A House Divided Chapter 2: A Lesson In History, a csi: miami fanfic

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows CSI: Miami does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Inspiration comes from odd places. The company named in this story is real as are all facts related to it save my OC's relation to it; that is fabrication. That said, I came across the name of that company in the captioning of the picture on page 585 of Modern Physics, fourth edition, used for course 750:313:01 in Spring 2004 and taught by Professor Gustafsson. Also, many thanks to Professor Figueira. As always, Mr. Hathaway; thank you for coming into my life. Sun Mee and b8kworm, you feed the obsession so nicely. Marianne and kdeb, you guys rock my world.

Summary: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): EoTU, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): Horatio/Calleigh

Spoiler(s): Small for "Complications". There is also a reference to that article posted on the H/C list regarding the Miami/NY crossover. When you get to that part, I'm sure you'll recognize the one I'm referencing.

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Title: A House Divided

Author: Laeta
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."
--- Abraham Lincoln,1858
"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation;
and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."
--- Matthew 12:25

Chapter 1: A Lesson In History

The name of Duquesne was distinguished; it always had been. Originating in France, the family was lower gentry and proudly served the king in arms. They were amply rewarded for their loyalty and eventually found themselves to be the protector of a small quaint village in the French countryside. There they lived peacefully for generations, justly presiding over affairs and sending their sons to war when the crown deemed it necessary.

During the eighteenth century, there were two brothers, the sons of the current Duquesne patriarch. As it always happened, the elder became his father's heir and the younger chose the army rather than idle his days away.

The younger son, Henri, found himself under the command of one Marquis de Lafayette and voluntarily traveled to the New World to fight for his commanding officer. The land he found himself in was equal parts familiar and strange, homesickness washing over him everyday as he heard his native French spoken in some quarters but exotic, foreign languages in others.

Eventually, as man always does, he acclimated and chose to stay behind when the Marquis returned overseas to help their home country fight her own revolutionary war. He was lucky in some respects as many of his compatriots had lost their lives fighting for a cause so similar to the one at home but not completely theirs.

It was with a bittersweet sensation that Henri Duquesne stood proudly beside General Washington as they welcomed the Marquis de Lafayette to the newly formed United States of America. For sure, it was a job well done, but Henri knew the Marquis carried a letter from home. Men who served so long together needed only a flicker of the eyes to know such things.

He was not disappointed.

The letter had dire news: Father had died early during his tenure in the New World and Charles prudently had refrained from sending news so he would not be distracted. Suddenly, the heavy weight of solitude forced Henri to tears. It was time to go home.

As he rolled along the cherished roads towards his village, he became aware of a sinking feeling in his stomach. It remained there as he saw the beloved faces of those who constantly reminded him about the reason he spent the cold, long winters overseas. It did not leave his soul as he made the pilgrimage to his father's tombstone and spent an afternoon there, missing the man who had shaped so much of his life.

He spent time helping Charles however he could, but the melancholy never left. When the French winter came, Christmas along with it, many fire lit conversations with his elder brother gradually brought to light the reason and remedy.

France was no longer home for Henri; he did not belong within the naïve world of the village. He had seen too much, he had done too much, and he had much more to see and to do. His place in life was in the New World.

Amongst tears and farewells, he parted ways from his ancestral home to make a new one in America. With the monetary grant from Charles, he put himself under the tutelage of General Washington and did fairly well for himself. Ever the restless spirit, one well suited for the rootless wanderings of a soldier, Henri explored the United States of America and ventured south.

There, in Louisiana, he rediscovered the charms of France in one beautiful, faerie woman. She captured his heart and he built his house near her family's land. Nostalgic once again, he mirrored his home after the ancestral seat nestled in the French countryside.

Married and his house turned into a home, his estate flourished as did his family. Both he and Charles were blessed by the Lord when their many sons grew into sturdy, well balanced youths. When the time came, they sent their sons overseas - one to the Old World, the other to the New - to experience everything.

Generations passed, and familial ties were gradually lost and rediscovered, lost and rediscovered. Times were peaceful.

Then war broke out.

By this time, Henri Duquesne's descendents were ignorant of the well respected family they had in France. All they knew was the bitterness of political divisions. Two brothers faced off viciously - one who saw no reason to break away from the practice of slavery, the other who hated the chains that bound man beneath his fellow man.

The story goes that one drove the other away from home; another tells it as one left home in disgust. Whatever the case, Pierre Duquesne enlisted in the Union Army and fought bravely. The story that brother faced brother on the battlefield is a lie, created for the sake of sensationalism, but it is true that neither ever looked at the other evenly again.

When the Civil War was over and the country healing from her many wounds, Pierre found a home in Pittsburgh. He stayed at a small townhouse in a respectable neighborhood and began an amazing career as a writer. It was through his works that he made a small fortune. It was also through his works that a certain family in the French countryside sat up and took notice.

Maurice Duquesne made the voyage overseas and made his way along Interstate Seventy-Six's predecessor. Once in Pittsburgh, he only needed to utter the name "Duquesne" and he was directed to a modest townhouse. He contrived a meeting through mutual friends and an instant brotherhood formed.

Pierre's fame was at its height when he began to write the history of his family. As he and Maurice sifted through the estate in France for material, and the book evolved to become a memoir for them. Most people of the times thought he would begin with his founding father in the United States. It was surprising to all when he recorded the falling out he had with his brother and then proceeded to chronicle every previous generation before him. His opening words of the book were: "I finally felt like I belonged".

He wrote about the Duquesne responsible for the freedom of the country he proudly called home. Henri Duquesne deserved a lot more than a chapter in a book, but Pierre knew - in his heart - that it was the most suitable honor his forefather deserved. He included chapter after chapter of the noble French Duquesnes, starting from when they used Quercus, noting carefully which kings they had served. He did not forget those from after the seventeenth century and included a poignant chapter on Maurice, who showed him that he had a family when his own brother alienated him.

Though he loved his time in France, Pierre returned to Pittsburgh and the lonely townhouse he called home. His small fortune had grown to a massive one, and he commissioned the Duquesne Family Estate. Knowing his family's history, he knew the mansion in Louisiana was a replica of the one in France, built to honor the family name; he did the same.

As always, time moves forward and families fall apart. Soon, the Southern, the Northern, and the French branches of the Duquesne families lost and rediscovered, lost and rediscovered their blood ties. Not even two world wars were enough incentive to have Fate bring them together again.

In the meantime, the Duquesne in the southern United States turned to law enforcement, fighting as Duquesnes always do for the weak and downtrodden, for justice, and for freedom.

Be it as it was, Calleigh followed in footsteps cast thousands of years ago by ancestors she read about in a very worn book. She heard their stories in a large formal dining room, surrounded by her cousins, fascinated. She never knew she would be the one to bring them all together again.