Disclaimer - I don't own the Miami characters - sadly, they belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. I do own Tim's wife and son, though and any other characters I might introduce as this little story progresses.

Rating – PG-13…..Lea is p-i-s-s-e-d!!! And our little southern belle apparently has no problem using bad language when she's angry!

Summary - Horatio finds one day that nothing is as he thought it was.

Horatio sat in the driver's seat of his rented black sedan, absent-mindedly fiddling with his sunglasses while he spoke to Calleigh.

"Cal?" he asked gently. He'd just told her that Tim was alive, that he'd been in Horatio's room just three nights before. Her reaction had been little more than stunned silence.

"I'm still here," she said quietly. "Horatio, I just..."

"I know," he responded, tossing the sunglasses onto the passenger seat and moving his hand over the leather of the steering wheel, imagining it to be the soft slope of Calleigh's shoulders.

"How?" she demanded, her voice slowly coming back to her, "how on earth is this possible?"

"I don't suppose you'd simply chalk it up to a miracle, for now?" he hoped aloud.

"Not likely," she responded with a snorted laugh.

He told her everything he knew - about Bruckson, Tim and Leanna's years in Witness Protection, Nicholas and Jack Collins. She listened quietly, allowing him to release three days of pent up frustration, anger and pure emotion before responding.

"Does Nicholas look like Tim?" she asked gently.

"Spitting image," he answered with a laugh.

"It's those good Irish genes of his," Calleigh sighed.

"So, am I forgiven for leaving you to run things?" he asked.

Calleigh laughed - the deep, throaty laugh he'd come to adore. "If you're nice to me and you come home soon."

"I don't know," he teased, a grin spreading across his mouth, "there's a woman here who reminds me a great deal of you."

"Really?" Calleigh asked curiously. "Is she pretty?"

Horatio laughed softly at the tiny hint of jealousy in her tone. "Cal, no other woman in the world could be even half as beautiful as you are," he assured her.

"You flatter me," she said quietly. Horatio could hear her shifting in her chair, allowing herself the luxury of getting comfortable.

"Where are you?" he asked, closing his eyes in anticipation of her answer.

"Your office," she answered, her voice as soft as a whisper. Horatio imagined her twirling the phone cord around her finger as she spoke. "I thought maybe if I came up here, I could, I don't know, channel you."

He rested his head against the back of the seat. "Is it working?"

"No," Calleigh sighed again.

"I wish I could help."

"Horatio," she said tenderly, "you have enough on your plate right now. We're fine here, but thanks for the offer."

"Cal…" the desperation in his voice startled him, and he let the rest of his thought trail off unfinished.

"I know," she answered, knowing exactly what he wanted to say. "When you come home, we'll deal with this together. But until then, keep Tim safe, okay?"

"Of course," he said softly, disconnecting the phone and leaning back against the seat, shutting his eyes to rest for a moment. Horatio felt as though he'd aged ten years in the last three days. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and yet, Calleigh's request had somehow energized him – if only a little.

He sighed…hoping to God he'd be able to keep his promise to Calleigh.

He knew he was taking a chance. What little remained in him of a rebel simply didn't care. For years now, he'd been a loyal husband and father, putting the needs of his family above his own at all times. He was quiet as he climbed the stairs, slowly shedding the anonymous blue exterminator's jumpsuit he wore over his clothes to prevent anyone recognizing him.

He turned the knob gently, avoiding the creak that he knew would wake her if he pushed the door open too quickly. For a moment, he simply watched her – the gentle, even rise and fall of her breathing as she slept, her hair cascading over the ivory pillowcase. His eyes drifted down her body, remembering how soft her skin felt beneath his fingers, how sweet it tasted to his lips.

He groaned – the memory more than he handle. He hadn't realized how much he needed her, loved her, until he was forced to be without her. He crossed over to the bed, stepping on the heels of his shoes to remove them. He had one hand on the bed, preparing to lower himself down beside her when she spoke.

"You've got a helluva a lot of explaining to do, Speedle."

He grinned – and she didn't return his smile. "It's not nice to startle your husband like that, Lea. I thought you were asleep," he teased.

He'd mistakenly thought she'd be happy to see him. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Leanna bolted upright on the bed, her cheeks flushed with anger. "You sorry son of a…." she yelled, grabbing a pillow and smacking him upside the head with it.

Before he could react, she was on top of him, beating him with the pillow. He rested back on the bed, as much as he could; allowing her to get the anger out of her system. "I thought you were dead, you bastard!"

"Baby," he said in a feeble attempt to calm her while he tried to sit up.

"Don't you 'Baby' me, you asshole!" she answered, forcefully shoving him back down on the bed. "Do you have ANY idea what I've been going through this last week? No, of course you don't, because you haven't BEEN here!" She smacked him once more with the pillow before crawling off him.

She turned her back on him as her tears began to fall, and Tim's heart simply broke. He scooted in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Lea," he said lovingly, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her vanilla shampoo mixed with her lavender body lotion, "I've got to end this thing with Bruckson, once and for all."

Leanna scoffed and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Oh yeah, that's an utterly brilliant idea. Let's see, I've been out of the bureau for five years. You've been cooped up in a lab for five years. You haven't shot a gun in five years, Tim. And you were never that good at it in the first place."

"Wow," he laughed, "that was pretty cruel, babe."

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling an overwhelming urge to be nice to you at the moment," she shot back angrily. Then she turned in his arms and glared at him, shoving him down on the mattress again. "And for that matter, where in HELL have you been?"

"Around," he answered vaguely, grabbing the front of her hooded blue jacket and pulling her down on top of him. His lips found their way to her neck and he tasted her skin for the first time in what felt like years.

He knew his wife well enough to know that while she was allowing him to caress her, Leanna was really plotting her next move, but he didn't care, at least until her knee slipped between his legs. "If you want more kids, you won't even think about it," he warned, whispering into her ear.

"I'm not even sure I want to be in the same room with you at the moment. My ending our sex life isn't much of a threat," she sneered. She tried to push herself away from him, but Tim's grip on her waist was too strong.

"Let go of me," she said through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," he replied, shaking his head playfully, "can't do that."

"And why the hell not?" she demanded, struggling against the strength of his arms.

"Because I love you more than anything or anyone on the planet, and I want to hold my wife, and make love to you like you've never been made love to before," he answered.

The passion behind his dark eyes both scared and thrilled her. "And you think I'm just going to let you do that, after everything you've put me through?"

She was still very angry with him, but he had her, he knew, the second she began moving her hips lightly over his growing erection, torturing him.

"Yes," he grinned, finally releasing his grip on her and tracing his fingers down her sides.

"Bastard," she whispered half-heartedly, melting into his touch, his kisses along her neck.

TBC…..