This story follows Fearful Symmetry. Once again, you must read that one
first to get all of the undertones and background here. Someday, I may
take off in a different direction, but I loved FS so much and had such a
ball with it. That story grew a life of its own, and it won't let me just
drop it. So for this one and also for the next story, now in the works,
everything builds from Fearful Symmetry. This story is completed, but I
have to find time to actually write all the parts down. Thanks for all
your wonderful feedback and support; you guys are fun to write for.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, but if CBS wants to take notes, I will donate any H/C inspiration they get from this free of charge.
Rating: PG-13.
Dedication: To the late, great Jimmy Stewart, a wonderful actor who made my all-time favorite fluffy, purely good feeling happy ending film the huge success it was. And if you don't know already, you will guess which film that is by the end of this story.
***
"I can't fight this feeling any longer, Yet I'm still afraid to let it go . . ."
REO Speedwagon
***
Calleigh could never remember being so happy. Not that she had a great deal of experience of happiness to choose from, but for once, everything in life was fitting together. The last two months had been like a dream, and she had finally allowed herself to relax fully into living it. The shadow of doubt, the voice that said that her newfound joy would shatter, had finally been put behind her. Tonight, there were no doubts.
The source of her joy (and her doubts, came that voice like a ghostly echo in her head, quickly suppressed) held her attention completely captive at the moment. She was sitting on his couch, and he was playing the piano for her. Two months ago, she had not even known that he could play; now, she lost herself totally, not only in the music, but in the sight of him. The lines of his face had softened, his eyes still focused but not sharp, not analyzing the music, just enjoying it, enjoying her enjoyment of it. She longed for a camera, to capture this moment forever, but if one had been there, she would not have moved. Mental pictures were sweeter. His hands, as graceful as the rest of him, reached for the last chord, brought the music together in a final perfect harmony, and then lifted, letting the sound fade away gradually in the room. Calleigh let out a sigh of pure contentment.
Horatio looked over at her, the easy smile that she still marveled at lighting his face. Once she would have thought nothing could improve his already impressive looks, but the relaxation he had been trying on tentatively the last few weeks, like one tries on a new garment in the dressing room before buying, made him even more handsome. She could not know that he was thinking exactly the same thought, eyeing her curled up like a cat on the end of his couch, utterly at ease, with no defensive edges. Such an incredible change. She got more beautiful every day.
"You're wonderful," they both said at exactly the same moment, then both laughed. He stood up and came over to the couch, sitting down next to her, and she reversed her curl, snuggling against him instead of the armrest. He put an arm around her shoulders, his fingers lightly playing with her hair.
"Alexx asked me earlier today why I'm suddenly so happy lately," he said.
"What did you tell her?" They hadn't broadcast their relationship at CSI, preferring to discover it themselves before the rest of the office analyzed it, but looking at Horatio tonight, Calleigh wondered how on earth anyone could keep from seeing the change.
"I told her I'd found my guardian angel." He chuckled softly. "It wasn't a lie."
"She's probably already put the whole thing together weeks ago." She turned a bit, to face him. "We can't hide this forever, you know."
"I know," he said. "I've just been waiting . . ." He broke off, and she knew from his eyes that he was somewhere else suddenly.
"Waiting for it to disappear?" She wanted him to know she understood. "Like it always has?" He shuddered slightly, and she slipped an arm around him in turn. No, she reminded herself, her close relationships had always disappeared. Horatio's had always been murdered. "I'm not going anywhere," she reminded him. "But I've felt the same way. Waiting for something to go wrong, somehow. But Horatio." She waited a moment, waiting for his eyes to come back to her, wanting his full attention. "I don't want to wait any longer for what might happen. I don't want to waste life. None of us know what will happen tomorrow. Can't we stop worrying about tomorrow and just enjoy today? Enjoy the magic now?"
His eyes, meeting hers, were serious. "I think I would like that, but are you ready?" How she adored this man. To stop and ask, on the brink, if he was pushing her. All her previous fears about losing her identity in relationships vanished. He had so much respect for her as a person. Surely that would never change.
"I'm ready if you are," she said, and it wasn't a flippant response but a question, trying to extend him the same dignity he gave her.
He did not answer in words. Instead, he pulled her across and kissed her. She surrendered her soul completely, knowing it would be safe here. His surrender matched hers. And his cell phone rang.
"No," she said, softly but urgently. "Don't answer it." Of course he would answer it. He had too much sense of the responsibility of his job to ignore a phone, a possible call for help.
"Horatio." The relaxation dropped off him suddenly, and the eyes sharpened. She could not hear the other end of the conversation, but she knew what was said. Resigned, she slid away from him, found her shoes, and began to put them on.
"Where?" She found his shoes and brought them to him.
"Hudson Street." His eyes were as sharp as lasers. "A child was killed." Calleigh's own heart broke instantly. She did not ask anything further but gathered her things while he picked up his gun and badge, and they left the house in silence, in unison of outrage.
***
Horatio parked the Hummer behind the growing line of emergency vehicles. An ambulance, two police cars. The ambulance crew were working on a woman who was struggling against them, and Horatio slipped up beside the nearest policeman. "The mother?" He nodded toward the tableau of hysteria.
"Right. Single mom. She went out to the store. Left her 14-year-old home with her 5-year-old, who was asleep. She was only gone 30 minutes, came home to find the house in a shambles and the little girl dead."
"And the 14-year-old?" Calleigh was afraid to ask.
"Vanished."
Horatio eyed the mother, then turned away toward the house. She simply was not in any condition to be questioned. Already her hysteria was subsiding into drug-induced cooperation, still wracked by soft sobs. He and Calleigh entered the house reluctantly, yet decisively. A child had been killed. Neither of them would leave this case until the killer had been brought to justice.
The little girl lay in the door of her bedroom, clad in a pink blanket sleeper. Horatio knelt beside her sadly, then looked up and down the hall and into the bedroom. "No signs of struggle in the bedroom. She came to the door on her own."
"She heard the perp after her sister," suggested Calleigh.
"That's how I see it. So she came to the door, and the killer shot her. What would you say the range was?"
Calleigh studied the wound and the spatter on the doorframe. "10 or 15 feet. The pellets had started to spread. There are a few in the wood of the doorframe. 12-gauge, probably."
"Odd weapon for a sexual predator."
"You think it was sexual?"
"The older girl is missing." Horatio's eyes were hard, brittle. "This one just woke up at the wrong time. He didn't want a witness, but he wasn't interested in this one. Too young. He took her sister with him." He stood up abruptly, quiet fury etched in every inch of him, and whipped out his cell phone. "Butch? Horatio. I need you and your best dog right away." He gave the address and snapped the phone shut with a decisive click.
"You're thinking of tracking the girl?"
"Right. The mother was only out for half an hour. They don't have too much of a lead. Maybe for once, we can help someone before death, not just after." Calleigh touched his arm lightly with her gloved hand, but she did not try to soften his mood. She understood herself, God knew, how frustrating this job could be at times. Especially to someone as sensitive as Horatio. He looked about as sensitive as an armor-plated tank at the moment, but that was just a front for the times he was most moved. Still a dangerous tank, though. The appearance was not an empty threat. If she were the killer, she would be frightened to find this man on her trail. He will get you, she promised. Look over your shoulder. Horatio is coming.
Speed, Delko, and Alexx arrived in turn, and the standard crime scene processing began, but there was an unusual hush over all of them. The murder of a child was never just another crime scene.
Butch arrived with a bloodhound in tow, the large dog straining against the leash. Horatio handed over some of the older girl's clothes he had fished out of the laundry. Calleigh slipped up alongside him as the handler bent over his dog. "Let me come with you," she pleaded.
"You're needed here."
"Speed and Delko can start things back at the lab," she said. "But I don't want you out there without backup, in case something goes wrong." For one second, she saw the gratitude in his eyes before the anger settled back over them. Not since his mother had anyone been protective of Horatio. It still caught him by surprise. "Okay," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "Speed, Calleigh's with me. Keep me posted."
"Let's track," said Butch, and the dog leaped forward, almost tripping over his long ears in his eagerness for the quarry. The trail was fresh, just a few hours old, and the three people had to run to keep up. The trail was twisted, deliberately confusing, except to the dog. This perp had not wanted anyone following him. Still, the dog's acute sense of smell picked out the human target with ease from the traces left on the street through the getaway car's venting system. The pattern of turns gradually revealed a path toward the north. The further they got from the crime scene, the straighter the trail became.
Calleigh was glad she ran regularly. "If he lives up here, he sure went a long way for her," she panted.
"Right," said Horatio. He was actually sweating a bit himself. "No way this was random. But I'd already decided that at the scene."
"How?"
"The mother was only gone 30 minutes. Too tight a window to be coincidence. He was watching, and waiting. He wanted this girl."
"Maybe he saw her or her picture somewhere," Calleigh suggested.
The bloodhound had quickened to a gallop, and now he lifted his head abruptly and let out a deep bay. Lights snapped on in the darkened houses. "Shut him up, can't you?" said Horatio.
"Sorry," said Butch. "They bay when they get close to their target. It's inbred."
"Stop him here, then." Horatio had to help Butch pull the dog to a halt. The animal still lunged against the leash, and another bay escaped him before Butch clamped a hand around his muzzle. The street they were on was a dead end, and the dog's eyes and nose were pointed like a weathervane toward the house at the end. Horatio quietly called for backup and helped Butch pull the dog around a corner. The animal fought them every step of the way, determined not to be cheated of the prize at the end of his chase. Butch finally had his dog settled down, and Horatio pulled his gun out. "Let's give it a preliminary check-out," he said. "It will be a few minutes before backup gets here, and the girl. . . " He did not complete the sentence, but Calleigh knew that every second could count here. She drew her own gun.
The house was dark, quiet. Lights had gone on in several others since the dog bayed, but in this one, the occupants were either hiding or absent. Or dead, Calleigh thought with a shudder. Please, God, let us be in time. She and Horatio slipped up to the house, staying in the shadows. Calleigh was too short to see in the front window, but Horatio could just do it, standing on tiptoe. He put his head right up next to Calleigh's and whispered, "Someone is lying on the couch. Totally still. Too dark to see who. Not conscious." At best, not conscious. Calleigh could feel his dilemma herself. Enter the unsecured house to try to help the girl? Wait to secure the house and possibly be too late to help the girl? They took one quick, quiet lap of the house. There was nothing to be seen in any of the other windows. Horatio tensed up, and she felt his decision and pulled her own gun up at the ready. "I'll cover you," she whispered.
"Miami-Dade police!" Horatio hit the door with a force that burst it open, immediately darting to the side, toward the still figure on the couch. Calleigh was right behind him, but she did not allow her attention to go to the girl - and it was the girl, she read that much from Horatio's sharply indrawn breath. She stood with her back to the doorframe, her eyes seeking out movement in every corner. "She's alive," said Horatio. "Thank God." He pulled out his cell phone, calling quickly for an ambulance. Then he slipped off his jacket and covered the unconscious girl on the couch with it. He crossed back over to join Calleigh in the doorway, still wary. "Should we search the rest of the house?" she said.
"Better wait for . . ." The sentence was never completed, cut off by Calleigh's yell as she saw a movement at the end of the dark hall behind him.
"Down!" she shouted, and he dropped instantly as she fired. Two shots rang out together, Calleigh's just enough after the other that it sounded like an echo. Calleigh herself crumpled, and Horatio caught her before she hit the floor. He instantly spun back in the other direction, his own gun ready, but there was no need. A sharp sound of breaking glass and a gust of fresh air up the hall announced that the perp had made a new back exit.
Horatio turned back to Calleigh quickly, his gun dropping unheeded at his side. Her eyes were open, locked on his, and he saw the lips form his name, but there was no sound. He quickly got the first aid kit from the CSI silver case, putting pressure against the wound in her shoulder. Possibly punctured a lung, he thought. She was gasping for air. He knelt next to her, repeating her name softly, promising that it would be okay. She had lost consciousness long before the ambulance arrived to collect, not one patient, but two.
***
Horatio was sitting in the surgical waiting room at the hospital. Alexx had brought him a cup of coffee, but it had gradually gone cold in his hands, still untasted. The ME sat with him, knowing that he needed her more than the dead 5-year-old did just then.
"He was going to shoot me, Alexx," Horatio said for the twentieth time. "And she hesitated to make sure I was out of the way. She would have gotten him cleanly if I hadn't been in the way."
"It's not your fault," Alexx soothed for the twentieth time. "Things just happen. She knew the risks going into that house. You both did. And I'm sure she'll be okay. Calleigh's strong."
"If I lost her," Horatio began, then broke off. Alexx could not know everything going through his mind just then. She realized that herself, even as she tried to understand him. She was only seeing the surface of a deep river with strong undercurrents, and she knew it.
"She'll be fine," she said again. "You've been seeing each other lately, haven't you?"
The doctor's voice cut over Horatio's half-mumbled reply. "Mr. Caine?" Horatio leaped up so suddenly that he dropped the cold paper cup of coffee. Alexx was only a fraction of a second slower in rising.
"Is she going to be alright?" Horatio demanded urgently.
"Yes, eventually. The bullet punctured a lung and cracked two ribs, but it missed the major vessels. We patched up the damage. She's lost a lot of blood, but she is a fighter. She'll be fine." Horatio nearly collapsed in relief, and Alexx grabbed his arm to steady him.
"What about the girl?" he said suddenly. "The one who was brought in with Calleigh."
"I don't know; she wasn't my patient."
Horatio turned to Alexx. "Alexx, find out about the girl, would you? And call Speed and Delko. I'm going to see Calleigh."
"She isn't conscious yet," warned the doctor.
"I'm going to see her," Horatio repeated, and his eyes sharpened. Alexx patted his arm.
"Easy, Horatio. She'll be fine." Her own eyes indicated her coworker, pleading rather than insisting, and the doctor glanced back at Horatio and gave in.
"Fine, this way, please."
***
Horatio sat in a chair by her bed, watching her breathe. She was still on oxygen, the mask covering her face, the tubes and lines in her body somehow making her appear even smaller. She was still pale from blood loss. But the monitors beeped steadily, reassuringly, confirming the doctor's prognosis. She will be fine, he told himself.
This time . . .
Now that the immediate worry for her was lessened, the weight of the people he had lost in his life crashed down on Horatio again. His father. His mother. His brother. His best friend. All had died violently. Calleigh had been working on him gently but persistently the last few months, ever since the anniversary of his mother's death when she had discovered the burden of guilt he carried. Thanks to her, he could now see his mother's face again, could remember her in good times as well as in death. Thanks to her, he had begun to wonder if it was, in fact, a coincidence that everyone he loved died. "No one is a walking jinx, Horatio," she had told him, over and over, with such conviction that he himself had started to wonder. Maybe he could reach out to people without endangering them. Maybe his self-imposed isolation was unnecessary. So he had started to reach out, tentatively at first, but he had never completely let go until earlier this evening. For that moment, looking into her beautiful, hopeful face, he had been ready to step forward confidently, to give himself totally to someone. And only a few hours later, like a reflex from fate, she had been shot down while defending him. She had not died. On the other hand, he had not totally let her in yet, had only been ready to. Had the phone call come 30 minutes later, had he let go completely, he was certain she would now be dead.
Alexx entered the room softly and stood there looking at Calleigh. "Vitals strong and steady," she said. "She'll be okay, thank God." She turned to Horatio, then stopped for a longer look at him before she said anything further. He looked even more tense and upset than he had earlier, when her life was in danger. "Hey," said Alexx, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She'll be fine. It's okay."
"Right," he said with no conviction at all. "What about the girl?"
"She's still unconscious. She had been given a heavy dose of chloroform."
"Had she been . . ." He did not complete the sentence, nor did she.
"Yes," she said with fierce regret. "That bastard. Calleigh got him, by the way. His blood was on the floor at the end of the hall. Not a disabling wound, because he was able to run away, but it's certainly why he lost interest in sticking around."
"It will slow him down," said Horatio. "Notify all the Emergency Rooms . . . "
"Already done," she said. "I talked to Speed and Delko. Everything is taken care of. We'll get this guy." The prospect of justice, usually a fire that drove Horatio, only lit a brief candle in his eyes this time. "It's alright," she said again, squeezing his arm. "Calleigh will be okay."
His eyes went back to her still, small frame in the bed. "Yes," he said softly. "She will." And Alexx wondered what it was about his tone that suddenly frightened her.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, but if CBS wants to take notes, I will donate any H/C inspiration they get from this free of charge.
Rating: PG-13.
Dedication: To the late, great Jimmy Stewart, a wonderful actor who made my all-time favorite fluffy, purely good feeling happy ending film the huge success it was. And if you don't know already, you will guess which film that is by the end of this story.
***
"I can't fight this feeling any longer, Yet I'm still afraid to let it go . . ."
REO Speedwagon
***
Calleigh could never remember being so happy. Not that she had a great deal of experience of happiness to choose from, but for once, everything in life was fitting together. The last two months had been like a dream, and she had finally allowed herself to relax fully into living it. The shadow of doubt, the voice that said that her newfound joy would shatter, had finally been put behind her. Tonight, there were no doubts.
The source of her joy (and her doubts, came that voice like a ghostly echo in her head, quickly suppressed) held her attention completely captive at the moment. She was sitting on his couch, and he was playing the piano for her. Two months ago, she had not even known that he could play; now, she lost herself totally, not only in the music, but in the sight of him. The lines of his face had softened, his eyes still focused but not sharp, not analyzing the music, just enjoying it, enjoying her enjoyment of it. She longed for a camera, to capture this moment forever, but if one had been there, she would not have moved. Mental pictures were sweeter. His hands, as graceful as the rest of him, reached for the last chord, brought the music together in a final perfect harmony, and then lifted, letting the sound fade away gradually in the room. Calleigh let out a sigh of pure contentment.
Horatio looked over at her, the easy smile that she still marveled at lighting his face. Once she would have thought nothing could improve his already impressive looks, but the relaxation he had been trying on tentatively the last few weeks, like one tries on a new garment in the dressing room before buying, made him even more handsome. She could not know that he was thinking exactly the same thought, eyeing her curled up like a cat on the end of his couch, utterly at ease, with no defensive edges. Such an incredible change. She got more beautiful every day.
"You're wonderful," they both said at exactly the same moment, then both laughed. He stood up and came over to the couch, sitting down next to her, and she reversed her curl, snuggling against him instead of the armrest. He put an arm around her shoulders, his fingers lightly playing with her hair.
"Alexx asked me earlier today why I'm suddenly so happy lately," he said.
"What did you tell her?" They hadn't broadcast their relationship at CSI, preferring to discover it themselves before the rest of the office analyzed it, but looking at Horatio tonight, Calleigh wondered how on earth anyone could keep from seeing the change.
"I told her I'd found my guardian angel." He chuckled softly. "It wasn't a lie."
"She's probably already put the whole thing together weeks ago." She turned a bit, to face him. "We can't hide this forever, you know."
"I know," he said. "I've just been waiting . . ." He broke off, and she knew from his eyes that he was somewhere else suddenly.
"Waiting for it to disappear?" She wanted him to know she understood. "Like it always has?" He shuddered slightly, and she slipped an arm around him in turn. No, she reminded herself, her close relationships had always disappeared. Horatio's had always been murdered. "I'm not going anywhere," she reminded him. "But I've felt the same way. Waiting for something to go wrong, somehow. But Horatio." She waited a moment, waiting for his eyes to come back to her, wanting his full attention. "I don't want to wait any longer for what might happen. I don't want to waste life. None of us know what will happen tomorrow. Can't we stop worrying about tomorrow and just enjoy today? Enjoy the magic now?"
His eyes, meeting hers, were serious. "I think I would like that, but are you ready?" How she adored this man. To stop and ask, on the brink, if he was pushing her. All her previous fears about losing her identity in relationships vanished. He had so much respect for her as a person. Surely that would never change.
"I'm ready if you are," she said, and it wasn't a flippant response but a question, trying to extend him the same dignity he gave her.
He did not answer in words. Instead, he pulled her across and kissed her. She surrendered her soul completely, knowing it would be safe here. His surrender matched hers. And his cell phone rang.
"No," she said, softly but urgently. "Don't answer it." Of course he would answer it. He had too much sense of the responsibility of his job to ignore a phone, a possible call for help.
"Horatio." The relaxation dropped off him suddenly, and the eyes sharpened. She could not hear the other end of the conversation, but she knew what was said. Resigned, she slid away from him, found her shoes, and began to put them on.
"Where?" She found his shoes and brought them to him.
"Hudson Street." His eyes were as sharp as lasers. "A child was killed." Calleigh's own heart broke instantly. She did not ask anything further but gathered her things while he picked up his gun and badge, and they left the house in silence, in unison of outrage.
***
Horatio parked the Hummer behind the growing line of emergency vehicles. An ambulance, two police cars. The ambulance crew were working on a woman who was struggling against them, and Horatio slipped up beside the nearest policeman. "The mother?" He nodded toward the tableau of hysteria.
"Right. Single mom. She went out to the store. Left her 14-year-old home with her 5-year-old, who was asleep. She was only gone 30 minutes, came home to find the house in a shambles and the little girl dead."
"And the 14-year-old?" Calleigh was afraid to ask.
"Vanished."
Horatio eyed the mother, then turned away toward the house. She simply was not in any condition to be questioned. Already her hysteria was subsiding into drug-induced cooperation, still wracked by soft sobs. He and Calleigh entered the house reluctantly, yet decisively. A child had been killed. Neither of them would leave this case until the killer had been brought to justice.
The little girl lay in the door of her bedroom, clad in a pink blanket sleeper. Horatio knelt beside her sadly, then looked up and down the hall and into the bedroom. "No signs of struggle in the bedroom. She came to the door on her own."
"She heard the perp after her sister," suggested Calleigh.
"That's how I see it. So she came to the door, and the killer shot her. What would you say the range was?"
Calleigh studied the wound and the spatter on the doorframe. "10 or 15 feet. The pellets had started to spread. There are a few in the wood of the doorframe. 12-gauge, probably."
"Odd weapon for a sexual predator."
"You think it was sexual?"
"The older girl is missing." Horatio's eyes were hard, brittle. "This one just woke up at the wrong time. He didn't want a witness, but he wasn't interested in this one. Too young. He took her sister with him." He stood up abruptly, quiet fury etched in every inch of him, and whipped out his cell phone. "Butch? Horatio. I need you and your best dog right away." He gave the address and snapped the phone shut with a decisive click.
"You're thinking of tracking the girl?"
"Right. The mother was only out for half an hour. They don't have too much of a lead. Maybe for once, we can help someone before death, not just after." Calleigh touched his arm lightly with her gloved hand, but she did not try to soften his mood. She understood herself, God knew, how frustrating this job could be at times. Especially to someone as sensitive as Horatio. He looked about as sensitive as an armor-plated tank at the moment, but that was just a front for the times he was most moved. Still a dangerous tank, though. The appearance was not an empty threat. If she were the killer, she would be frightened to find this man on her trail. He will get you, she promised. Look over your shoulder. Horatio is coming.
Speed, Delko, and Alexx arrived in turn, and the standard crime scene processing began, but there was an unusual hush over all of them. The murder of a child was never just another crime scene.
Butch arrived with a bloodhound in tow, the large dog straining against the leash. Horatio handed over some of the older girl's clothes he had fished out of the laundry. Calleigh slipped up alongside him as the handler bent over his dog. "Let me come with you," she pleaded.
"You're needed here."
"Speed and Delko can start things back at the lab," she said. "But I don't want you out there without backup, in case something goes wrong." For one second, she saw the gratitude in his eyes before the anger settled back over them. Not since his mother had anyone been protective of Horatio. It still caught him by surprise. "Okay," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "Speed, Calleigh's with me. Keep me posted."
"Let's track," said Butch, and the dog leaped forward, almost tripping over his long ears in his eagerness for the quarry. The trail was fresh, just a few hours old, and the three people had to run to keep up. The trail was twisted, deliberately confusing, except to the dog. This perp had not wanted anyone following him. Still, the dog's acute sense of smell picked out the human target with ease from the traces left on the street through the getaway car's venting system. The pattern of turns gradually revealed a path toward the north. The further they got from the crime scene, the straighter the trail became.
Calleigh was glad she ran regularly. "If he lives up here, he sure went a long way for her," she panted.
"Right," said Horatio. He was actually sweating a bit himself. "No way this was random. But I'd already decided that at the scene."
"How?"
"The mother was only gone 30 minutes. Too tight a window to be coincidence. He was watching, and waiting. He wanted this girl."
"Maybe he saw her or her picture somewhere," Calleigh suggested.
The bloodhound had quickened to a gallop, and now he lifted his head abruptly and let out a deep bay. Lights snapped on in the darkened houses. "Shut him up, can't you?" said Horatio.
"Sorry," said Butch. "They bay when they get close to their target. It's inbred."
"Stop him here, then." Horatio had to help Butch pull the dog to a halt. The animal still lunged against the leash, and another bay escaped him before Butch clamped a hand around his muzzle. The street they were on was a dead end, and the dog's eyes and nose were pointed like a weathervane toward the house at the end. Horatio quietly called for backup and helped Butch pull the dog around a corner. The animal fought them every step of the way, determined not to be cheated of the prize at the end of his chase. Butch finally had his dog settled down, and Horatio pulled his gun out. "Let's give it a preliminary check-out," he said. "It will be a few minutes before backup gets here, and the girl. . . " He did not complete the sentence, but Calleigh knew that every second could count here. She drew her own gun.
The house was dark, quiet. Lights had gone on in several others since the dog bayed, but in this one, the occupants were either hiding or absent. Or dead, Calleigh thought with a shudder. Please, God, let us be in time. She and Horatio slipped up to the house, staying in the shadows. Calleigh was too short to see in the front window, but Horatio could just do it, standing on tiptoe. He put his head right up next to Calleigh's and whispered, "Someone is lying on the couch. Totally still. Too dark to see who. Not conscious." At best, not conscious. Calleigh could feel his dilemma herself. Enter the unsecured house to try to help the girl? Wait to secure the house and possibly be too late to help the girl? They took one quick, quiet lap of the house. There was nothing to be seen in any of the other windows. Horatio tensed up, and she felt his decision and pulled her own gun up at the ready. "I'll cover you," she whispered.
"Miami-Dade police!" Horatio hit the door with a force that burst it open, immediately darting to the side, toward the still figure on the couch. Calleigh was right behind him, but she did not allow her attention to go to the girl - and it was the girl, she read that much from Horatio's sharply indrawn breath. She stood with her back to the doorframe, her eyes seeking out movement in every corner. "She's alive," said Horatio. "Thank God." He pulled out his cell phone, calling quickly for an ambulance. Then he slipped off his jacket and covered the unconscious girl on the couch with it. He crossed back over to join Calleigh in the doorway, still wary. "Should we search the rest of the house?" she said.
"Better wait for . . ." The sentence was never completed, cut off by Calleigh's yell as she saw a movement at the end of the dark hall behind him.
"Down!" she shouted, and he dropped instantly as she fired. Two shots rang out together, Calleigh's just enough after the other that it sounded like an echo. Calleigh herself crumpled, and Horatio caught her before she hit the floor. He instantly spun back in the other direction, his own gun ready, but there was no need. A sharp sound of breaking glass and a gust of fresh air up the hall announced that the perp had made a new back exit.
Horatio turned back to Calleigh quickly, his gun dropping unheeded at his side. Her eyes were open, locked on his, and he saw the lips form his name, but there was no sound. He quickly got the first aid kit from the CSI silver case, putting pressure against the wound in her shoulder. Possibly punctured a lung, he thought. She was gasping for air. He knelt next to her, repeating her name softly, promising that it would be okay. She had lost consciousness long before the ambulance arrived to collect, not one patient, but two.
***
Horatio was sitting in the surgical waiting room at the hospital. Alexx had brought him a cup of coffee, but it had gradually gone cold in his hands, still untasted. The ME sat with him, knowing that he needed her more than the dead 5-year-old did just then.
"He was going to shoot me, Alexx," Horatio said for the twentieth time. "And she hesitated to make sure I was out of the way. She would have gotten him cleanly if I hadn't been in the way."
"It's not your fault," Alexx soothed for the twentieth time. "Things just happen. She knew the risks going into that house. You both did. And I'm sure she'll be okay. Calleigh's strong."
"If I lost her," Horatio began, then broke off. Alexx could not know everything going through his mind just then. She realized that herself, even as she tried to understand him. She was only seeing the surface of a deep river with strong undercurrents, and she knew it.
"She'll be fine," she said again. "You've been seeing each other lately, haven't you?"
The doctor's voice cut over Horatio's half-mumbled reply. "Mr. Caine?" Horatio leaped up so suddenly that he dropped the cold paper cup of coffee. Alexx was only a fraction of a second slower in rising.
"Is she going to be alright?" Horatio demanded urgently.
"Yes, eventually. The bullet punctured a lung and cracked two ribs, but it missed the major vessels. We patched up the damage. She's lost a lot of blood, but she is a fighter. She'll be fine." Horatio nearly collapsed in relief, and Alexx grabbed his arm to steady him.
"What about the girl?" he said suddenly. "The one who was brought in with Calleigh."
"I don't know; she wasn't my patient."
Horatio turned to Alexx. "Alexx, find out about the girl, would you? And call Speed and Delko. I'm going to see Calleigh."
"She isn't conscious yet," warned the doctor.
"I'm going to see her," Horatio repeated, and his eyes sharpened. Alexx patted his arm.
"Easy, Horatio. She'll be fine." Her own eyes indicated her coworker, pleading rather than insisting, and the doctor glanced back at Horatio and gave in.
"Fine, this way, please."
***
Horatio sat in a chair by her bed, watching her breathe. She was still on oxygen, the mask covering her face, the tubes and lines in her body somehow making her appear even smaller. She was still pale from blood loss. But the monitors beeped steadily, reassuringly, confirming the doctor's prognosis. She will be fine, he told himself.
This time . . .
Now that the immediate worry for her was lessened, the weight of the people he had lost in his life crashed down on Horatio again. His father. His mother. His brother. His best friend. All had died violently. Calleigh had been working on him gently but persistently the last few months, ever since the anniversary of his mother's death when she had discovered the burden of guilt he carried. Thanks to her, he could now see his mother's face again, could remember her in good times as well as in death. Thanks to her, he had begun to wonder if it was, in fact, a coincidence that everyone he loved died. "No one is a walking jinx, Horatio," she had told him, over and over, with such conviction that he himself had started to wonder. Maybe he could reach out to people without endangering them. Maybe his self-imposed isolation was unnecessary. So he had started to reach out, tentatively at first, but he had never completely let go until earlier this evening. For that moment, looking into her beautiful, hopeful face, he had been ready to step forward confidently, to give himself totally to someone. And only a few hours later, like a reflex from fate, she had been shot down while defending him. She had not died. On the other hand, he had not totally let her in yet, had only been ready to. Had the phone call come 30 minutes later, had he let go completely, he was certain she would now be dead.
Alexx entered the room softly and stood there looking at Calleigh. "Vitals strong and steady," she said. "She'll be okay, thank God." She turned to Horatio, then stopped for a longer look at him before she said anything further. He looked even more tense and upset than he had earlier, when her life was in danger. "Hey," said Alexx, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She'll be fine. It's okay."
"Right," he said with no conviction at all. "What about the girl?"
"She's still unconscious. She had been given a heavy dose of chloroform."
"Had she been . . ." He did not complete the sentence, nor did she.
"Yes," she said with fierce regret. "That bastard. Calleigh got him, by the way. His blood was on the floor at the end of the hall. Not a disabling wound, because he was able to run away, but it's certainly why he lost interest in sticking around."
"It will slow him down," said Horatio. "Notify all the Emergency Rooms . . . "
"Already done," she said. "I talked to Speed and Delko. Everything is taken care of. We'll get this guy." The prospect of justice, usually a fire that drove Horatio, only lit a brief candle in his eyes this time. "It's alright," she said again, squeezing his arm. "Calleigh will be okay."
His eyes went back to her still, small frame in the bed. "Yes," he said softly. "She will." And Alexx wondered what it was about his tone that suddenly frightened her.
