Title: Monsters Dance (1/1)
Author: Andrea (abc3969@juno.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to Horatio/Calleigh; and so, to my own muse I must be true.
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: This piece was written as a continuation of my earlier work, "Finding Peace," though it could reasonably stand alone. You need not read the first story to follow this one. Sometimes an idea won't go away. The theme of these stories has a firm grip on me and doesn't seem to want to let go.
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.
*****
Try as he might, Horatio can't force his mind to shut down. Over the years, there have been too many restless, uneasy nights for him to count. And bone-weary days always follow. Out of necessity, he's mastered the skill of living with it all and functioning, miraculously, at peak levels. Sometimes, the tiredness even fuels his performance on the job, making him focus and strive for accuracy. Other times, just as he is poised to stumble across the line from simply tired to ineffectually exhausted, his bullish body will give up the fight and he'll collapse into the arms of Morpheus.
As a young boy, he thought the nightmares he'd experienced after his mother's murder would be the worst he'd ever have--until Raymond died. Those images were even more grotesque and frightening. It didn't help that there were so many questions surrounding Ray's life, his career and his loyalties--questions that would forever go unanswered, and, consequently, would follow his son and widow ad infinitum, not to mention how they would haunt Horatio every waking hour and into the night.
Everything Horatio does, he does with intensity. He works with a dedication and determination unmatched by any other. His service record is an indisputable testament to his work ethic. His team is a fiercely loyal cadre, if only to keep up with his demanding style. When he plays, he plays hard as well. No namby-pamby hobbies for him.
And when he loves, well, that's when the intensity is blinding. The hard- nosed, all business Lieutenant Caine invests his whole heart and soul in every love relationship he forges. Family, because he has so little of one left, is paramount. He'd do anything to protect Ray, Jr. Yelina's a big girl. She can take care of herself, but R. J. needs a man in his life and Horatio is the one. Of that, he has no doubt.
But tonight, it's the other love, the sentimental, romantic, butterflies-in- the-belly love that's got him stymied. He has no desire to involve Calleigh in his nightly torture, but, like a moth to a flame, he goes to her. Only her presence, her nearness to him, seems to ease his torment. They are inextricably connected, and although he's tried many times to distance himself from her, she always manages to find her way back to him, never once shying from the task of standing sentry over his soul.
His inclination of late has been to walk at night, trying however ineffectively to hold the inevitable visions at bay. He's helplessly trapped in a classic Catch-22. Sleep stubbornly refuses to take hold, causing him to be irritable and bellicose, and when he finally does surrender, his rest is interrupted by hideous images of monsters doing a macabre dance across his eyelids. So he walks, nearly every time finding himself standing across from her home, drawing not only physical rejuvenation, but also emotional and spiritual strength from her very existence.
Most nights he would wait and watch outside her door, intending not to be discovered, wanting only to be close to her. But not long ago, she met him halfway and gently drew him into her apartment. Now, the façade of indifference thoroughly dissipated, he voluntarily seeks her out when the music of the monsters' dance starts to swell. With tender words and open arms, she offers herself to him, not for erotic purposes, but for showering him with the nurturing comfort he so richly deserves.
And he sleeps.
Author: Andrea (abc3969@juno.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to Horatio/Calleigh; and so, to my own muse I must be true.
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: This piece was written as a continuation of my earlier work, "Finding Peace," though it could reasonably stand alone. You need not read the first story to follow this one. Sometimes an idea won't go away. The theme of these stories has a firm grip on me and doesn't seem to want to let go.
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.
*****
Try as he might, Horatio can't force his mind to shut down. Over the years, there have been too many restless, uneasy nights for him to count. And bone-weary days always follow. Out of necessity, he's mastered the skill of living with it all and functioning, miraculously, at peak levels. Sometimes, the tiredness even fuels his performance on the job, making him focus and strive for accuracy. Other times, just as he is poised to stumble across the line from simply tired to ineffectually exhausted, his bullish body will give up the fight and he'll collapse into the arms of Morpheus.
As a young boy, he thought the nightmares he'd experienced after his mother's murder would be the worst he'd ever have--until Raymond died. Those images were even more grotesque and frightening. It didn't help that there were so many questions surrounding Ray's life, his career and his loyalties--questions that would forever go unanswered, and, consequently, would follow his son and widow ad infinitum, not to mention how they would haunt Horatio every waking hour and into the night.
Everything Horatio does, he does with intensity. He works with a dedication and determination unmatched by any other. His service record is an indisputable testament to his work ethic. His team is a fiercely loyal cadre, if only to keep up with his demanding style. When he plays, he plays hard as well. No namby-pamby hobbies for him.
And when he loves, well, that's when the intensity is blinding. The hard- nosed, all business Lieutenant Caine invests his whole heart and soul in every love relationship he forges. Family, because he has so little of one left, is paramount. He'd do anything to protect Ray, Jr. Yelina's a big girl. She can take care of herself, but R. J. needs a man in his life and Horatio is the one. Of that, he has no doubt.
But tonight, it's the other love, the sentimental, romantic, butterflies-in- the-belly love that's got him stymied. He has no desire to involve Calleigh in his nightly torture, but, like a moth to a flame, he goes to her. Only her presence, her nearness to him, seems to ease his torment. They are inextricably connected, and although he's tried many times to distance himself from her, she always manages to find her way back to him, never once shying from the task of standing sentry over his soul.
His inclination of late has been to walk at night, trying however ineffectively to hold the inevitable visions at bay. He's helplessly trapped in a classic Catch-22. Sleep stubbornly refuses to take hold, causing him to be irritable and bellicose, and when he finally does surrender, his rest is interrupted by hideous images of monsters doing a macabre dance across his eyelids. So he walks, nearly every time finding himself standing across from her home, drawing not only physical rejuvenation, but also emotional and spiritual strength from her very existence.
Most nights he would wait and watch outside her door, intending not to be discovered, wanting only to be close to her. But not long ago, she met him halfway and gently drew him into her apartment. Now, the façade of indifference thoroughly dissipated, he voluntarily seeks her out when the music of the monsters' dance starts to swell. With tender words and open arms, she offers herself to him, not for erotic purposes, but for showering him with the nurturing comfort he so richly deserves.
And he sleeps.
