She opened the door to her suburban condominium and saw him standing there, dressed in a dark suit with hazy blue shirt, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He leaned one hand on the door frame, and didn't look up when she swung open the door. The early morning cast long shadows on his chiseled face.

"Horatio? What are you doing here?" Calleigh checked her watch. "It's five in the morning...is everything all right?" He finally looked up at her, and a weak smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Everything's fine," he whispered. There was a tense pause in which Calleigh tried to speak several words, but nothing escaped her lips. He took a deep breath that made his shoulders heave, directing his eyes to the ground.

"Can I...would you like to come in?" Horatio glanced into her concerned face. His eyes were drawn to her newly dyed hair. The dark, brunette tendrils curled around her face like a wreath.

"I can't stay," Horatio muttered as if in a daze. She awkwardly fingered a strand of hair and waited for him to explain his presence. "I've got to...go away." Calleigh's fingers halted abruptly.

"Away?" She repeated. The Lieutenant nodded and inhaled again. "O--okay, I think I'll be able to cover for you for a few days, but I've got to attend my mother's wedding on Thursday--" Horatio shook his head with a somber smile.

"I don't think I'll be back, Calleigh," he interrupted. Her face was twisting in confusion as she tried to understand. "There's something I have to attend to..." Something in his voice caught and he roughly cleared his voice and continued as Calleigh tried to interject. "I need you to do some things for me. Make sure that Ray, Jr. is taken care of, please...and Susie...give her the key to my bank account...will you do that for me? Will you..." He broke off and stared, lost, into the brightening horizon.

"Horatio, you're starting to scare me," Calleigh told him seriously. Horatio straightened and took her quivering hand, pressing something cold and hard into her warm palm. She felt the engraved surface of his badge with her fingers and her blue eyes widened. "What's going on? Please tell me what's going on!" She searched his face desperately for some sort of clue, but it was to clouded to read, as usual.

"Thank you, Calleigh," he managed to whisper, his voice breaking down so that he had to turn and walk sharply away without another word. She stood there blankly, gazing at the place where her boss once stood, and suddenly grabbed a coat, and ran after him, the early morning chill cutting through her light clothing. She sped after his retreating figure, calling out to him, but he would not stop.

He was unlocking his Hummer, and without a glance behind him, he roared the engine to life and raucously drove the vehicle out of the lot and into the distance. She noticed something had fallen out of his pocket when he entered the SUV, but could not see it clearly for the tears spilling from her eyes. She bent, tripping over her long pant legs and took a small agenda book into her hands, but could not get up again. Calleigh sat, legs sprawled before her, crying piteously into the night, holding his badge close to her as desperation saturated her heart.

A ringing woke the sleeping brunette from her daydream and she reached for the phone of her large office, courtesy of promotion. She held it to her ear.

"This is Duquesne," she mumbled sleepily. A familiar voice caused a smile to break across her lips.

"Dozing on the job again?"

"Speed," she laughed. "Where are you?"

"Driving to see you, but apparently, you're indisposed." Calleigh giggled as her fiancé's cell phone was interrupted by static. "Are you there?"

"Yeah," she called back. "You do realize there are newer versions than the 1996 model of the cellular phone, don't you?" His voice was tinged with amusement as he mumbled something indiscernible into the phone. "I can't hear you too well, Speed."

"And it was too dirty to repeat," he teased, "Your loss." Calleigh sighed in content as she signed some paperwork stacked on her desk. "That's a beautiful blouse you're wearing, Cal. Where did you get such a spectacular color this side of Miami?" She looked up, grinning, trying to find him. "And those lovely pearl earrings. Fresh plucked from the oyster, I'm guessing?"

"Where are you?" she chortled, setting down her pencil and walking to her office window. Poorly hidden behind a clump of trees, she saw Tim's Volkswagen parked in the lot below her. "Sneaky bastard."

"I'm hoping you won't talk to me like that as your husband, Mrs. Speedle," he mocked. Calleigh's smile faltered just a moment. Her new name hadn't occurred to her yet, and it was foreign to her ears.

"I've still got time to back out, mister," she recovered, "Watch yourself...I may be having an affair with a Columbian surfer with a six-pack and monster biceps." Speed reversed his car back a couple of feet and stuck his head out the driver side window. "I spy a bored fiance." Suddenly, she heard his voice bellowing from 100 or so feet below her.

"I LOVE YOU, CALLEIGH DUQUESNE!" A deep blush rose to her cheeks as her closest friend, Alexx, passed by her office with a knowing smile. Calleigh grinned and turned away, waving at her husband-to-be through the window. His voice rang clear on the phone once more. "Spontaneous enough for you?" She recalled daydreaming about spontaneity to him a few days earlier.

"You're adorable," she cooed. "Now, shut up and let me finish this work before I go insane so I can go home." With a few words of good-bye, she was disconnected and once again flipping through documents on her desktop. The heading of a newspaper clipping attached to one letter caught her eye and she slid it from the pile, paling to read its contents. It was her want-ad for a private eye she had put out almost two years ago. It was yellow and worn and ripped at the edges, but had been preserved carefully. Trembling fingers flipped the clipping over and read the contents of the letter. A polite message and phone number left her feeling numb and shaken. Alexx's voice made her jump.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" She asked, tying her dark hair behind her face in a loose bun. Calleigh managed to nod emptily and was finally alone again. Her sweaty hand picked up the phone once more, and without thinking, she dialed the written number. It was probably a joke, a trick played by some teenagers with no social lives, someone targeting perfectly innocent strangers, a twisted madman who–

"Marc Edwards, PI, speaking." Calleigh gaped like a fish for air and the detective sighed impatiently. "Hello?" She managed to find her voice.

"Yes, sorry," Calleigh stuttered, kicking the office door shut. "I'm calling about a response you sent me to a want-ad I advertised?" Edwards paused for a moment to think, then cleared his rough voice.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, "I think I could be of use." Calleigh unconsciously lowered her hand to the bottom drawer of her desk where she kept a dusty silver badge in black leather wallet. "Who exactly is it you're looking for, and I'll find 'em."

"I–uh–am looking for ...a—a man by the name of...Lt. Horatio Caine..." She shuddered as the name rested on her lips, strange from not being spoken for so long. There was a pause on the line before the detective assented.

"My fee's two-hundred for a background check, one hundred for location, and fifty for personal charges," he droned on, but Calleigh wasn't really listening.

"It's done," she cut in. She didn't even think of asking for qualifications and licenses. Adrenaline and fear was overpowering her. "I'll send it to you when you give me a location via your return address."

"Agreed," the detective said. She could hear a smile stretching across his face. "Action first, money later." Finally, he hung up, and she held the phone to her ear until the dial-tone crescendoed into a loud blaring announcement by the operator. Calleigh dropped the phone onto its ledge and leaned back, sweaty and nervous, into her chair. Her fears and anxieties for her former boss, role model, and friend resurfaced unpleasantly in her mind. She glanced down at her hand where his badge rested, shining coldly back into her blue eyes. She needed to get out.

Without a second thought, she threw together her suitcase and coat, switching off her light and locking the door, aware that she was leaving three hours early. Alexx watched her curiously but said nothing as she stormed out of the building, feeling nauseous. Her mind told her to go home, be comforted by her fiancé, but instead she drove to the local bar and ordered a glass of wine. The young bartender grinned at her, and, mirthlessly, she paid him in full without a word or tip. As the mellow taste of Merlot eased her nerves, Calleigh watched as a group of men played pool jovially with several mugs of beer and whiskey within reaching distance. The alcohol and atmosphere did not sooth her completely, however, and she soon left, feeling the eyes of the bartender follow her as she exited the smoky room. Night was falling fast, and she drove around in a wide, looping circle for a half an hour before accepting the confines of the condo she shared with Speed.

"Hey there," he murmured after she pulled in the drive and stepped out of the BMW. Speed held back her still dark hair and kissed her neck, but she unintentionally shied away from him. His face was surprised and hurt. "What's the matter?" She couldn't let this control her again.

"Nothing...hard day..." Calleigh recovered smoothly, rubbing her temples convincingly as if she were plagued by a headache. Speed massaged her neck. He understood, he told her, and she managed a weak laugh. She climbed the spiral staircase to her bedroom, still separate from the man below her, and collapsed onto the bed. Sleep and terrible dreams soon over took her.

The days passed sluggishly, and Alexx commented daily on Calleigh's worsening appearance. She didn't doubt it. The lack of sleep and anxiety that had weighed on her mind since discovering the letter on her desk hadn't given her a moment's peace since. When she was at worked, she feared the detective would call at home. When she was at home, she was cursing herself for not being available at work. Even Speed had noticed the change in her, and he avoided asking her about it for fear of a "heated discussion."

"I'm off to work," Speed called to her one morning, fully dressed and jingling his car keys in his hands. He watched her still form, clothed in a large nightshirt and shorts, staring out of the window. "Want a ride?" Calleigh inhaled deeply and shook her head, forcing a smile.

"No thanks, darlin'," she chimed. She hoped he wouldn't hear the cracking in her voice that threatened to betray her. "I'm not feeling to well... I think I'll take the day off." Speed moved towards her, concerned.

"You want me to stay with you?"

"No," she answered, standing up and walking over to him, linking her arms around his neck. Calleigh kissed his cheeks, covered in a dark stubble, and saw him out of the condo, returning his shouted "I love you." Once he was gone, she retreated back inside, taking her hot tea onto the balcony and sitting in her wicker rocking chair. The sun was rising brilliantly in the east, casting rays of crimson and gold onto the clouds. A rare moment of peace settled in her mind and sleep began to quiet her edgy state of being when the phone rang. She jumped up, spilling the herbal tea onto her front.

"Shit!" She hissed before running inside. Calleigh grabbed the portable phone and ran to the balcony before the second ring had even trilled. "Hello?"

"Ms. Duquesne?" The familiar rough voice of a smoker intoned. She felt a sickening creep into her stomach. "This is Detective Edwards. We spoke a couple weeks ago..."

"I remember," she cut in. "Have you found something?" Calleigh heard him take a long draw on a cigar and wheeze before answering.

"Well, as much as we could, ma'am," he muttered, concentrating on something on the other end of the line. "I've got an address here. A way away, I must say. You want it over the phone?"

"Yes." Calleigh kicked the screen door out of its track as she bounded indoors to grab a ben and paper. "Yes, yes, I'm here. Go ahead." She scribbled on the paper to make sure it worked.

"Ah...we must reaffirm the fact that we're not responsible for—"

"Just tell me the address!" Calleigh sucked in a deep breath and calmed herself down, waiting for the man to continue.

"178 Waterloo Drive," he began suspiciously, "Charleston, West Virginia..." Calleigh scrawled the address in short, agitated handwriting and thanked the man in full.

"Hey, it's your money, lady," she could