Standing amidst the cold walls of glass and concrete, she wished they were some place more peaceful, in her living room perhaps. Where she could recline on a yielding sofa, lay his head in her lap, and run her hands through that deliciously orange hair until he fell asleep. Her attempts, to refuse herself the luxury of getting her hopes up for him, were falling to the charm he didn't know he had. Despite their hug, Horatio remained guarded. His head beside hers, their shoulders together, but from the chest down, they hadn't touched. An invisible wedge, he was always careful to put between them, marked a professional distance that kept him closed off.
"Thank you, Calleigh." He whispered to her ear.
"You're always welcome, handsome." He relished her words with a little smile. Could she really have meant that, he thought, he was always welcome? Surely, she was just being polite; after all, there was Hagen. Gently he withdrew from her arms, and they stood closely. Looking up at him, she drew her hand through his hair, moving it back from his face. She was melting in those eyes, and that puppy dog expression he got when something concerned him.
"Horatio," she cooed, "I really--"
"Knock, knock." The smooth voice wrought with exotic accent cut Calleigh's words. At the presence of this unexpected third party, the co-workers shifted nervously away from one another. "Hope I'm not interrupting." The statement sounded very much as though the speaker knew the answer, and it crawled beneath Calleigh's skin. Yes! She wanted to snap, you ARE! Instead she kept a polite, but uneasy silence and Horatio spoke.
"Um, no. What can I do for you, Yelina?" He changed the subject and gave her a smile. Calleigh's teeth clenched, she loved that smile. How was it she was only privy to it every now and then, yet Yelina was awarded with it whenever she batted her eyes? Watching the two speak she drifted further into her own thoughts. Why did he often stand like that when she spoke to him, keeping his head down, his eyes hidden, like an abused animal? What power did she hold over him? It was then Calleigh thought for the first time that perhaps his distance to her wasn't only professional. Perhaps it came from knowing his heart wasn't his to give.
"Ok. I'll be right behind you." Horatio's words, and Yelina's exit, brought Calleigh back from her thoughts. "I've got to go." He met her eyes, hoping she'd take this as a chance to finish what she had almost said.
"Oh, ok. That's ok." She did her best to hide her disappointment, but to H it was still visible.
"I'm sorry...Yelina wants me too--"
"No, it's ok. Really. I understand." She gave him the best smile she had; he nodded and returned his gun, from the table, to its holster.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yah, tomorrow." She agreed as he reached the door. Stopping a moment he turned back to her.
"Good night, Calleigh." The sincerity of his words, which shone in his blue eyes, compelled her to give him the same.
"Good night, Horatio."
At home, H hung up his suit coat and sat on the edge of his bed. People always told him how much they liked his apartment. They complimented the furniture, the spotlessness, and that cool, modern look about the place. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the décor was very him, but to Caine, it suited him only as far as looks went. The cleanliness and the crisp shapes and colors of the place made it seem more like some kind of an art gallery or museum, so untouched, so cold, even in Miami weather. When he was alone here, which these days was more than not, there was a barren unfriendliness about these rooms that made him feel foreign in his own home.
Yelina had come to the office in search of him, desperate to talk about earlier events of the evening. Primarily, her relationship with Stetler. When he showed up, and Stetler was there, it hurt that she hadn't told him. It hurt to see Stetler with his nephew. It hurt that after all he gave, she didn't choose him. These past years he tried to provide for her even more than what she'd lost. When Raymond left their lives, he felt obligated to her, as she and Ray Jr. were the last people he had to call family. He loved them both like family, and gave everything in him, just to be loved the same. Horatio had refused to accept that she'd never love him like that; instead he only kept trying, blindly giving. Now he didn't have anything left to give.
He laid back, without the energy to bother with the rest of his clothes, and lazily pushed his shoes off with his feet. Breathing deep he hesitated when a familiar, soft, almost sweet, scent changed the air. Grabbing his shirt collar, he pulled it to his face. That was definitely the source of this smell. It wasn't a perfume, or anything cosmetic, it just smelled distinctly of Calleigh. God, it was comforting. If more of this place smelled that way, he thought, he'd never feel alone here.