Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them. Not long 'til Christmas, maybe I'll get lucky this year?

Authors note: Hugio thanks to Becs (remotecontrolprincess) for beta, giggles, friendship & everything. Thanks to Delga for the beta. SPOILERS for 3x01 Lost Son, post-ep fic for said episode. Don't like HoratioCalleigh? Not my problem, don't read it. Review, praise, send chocolate, cookies, love, or Rory Cochrane for Christmas. I won't say no to any of the above. Flames will be used to toast my toes, it's damn cold!

Candle in the Dark

I wanna hold you close under the rain, I wanna kiss your smile and feel the pain

Broken. That's the only word she can use to describe him as she walks through the door to the locker room, ballistics report in hand – the key to the closure of the hellish IAB investigation. He doesn't flinch as she enters, only moving his lips to form three words – you saved me.

There's a change in the air, she notes, as she hands him the report, telling him she wanted him to see it before she handed it in officially. The air has been strained all day, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. In that room, standing alone with the broken figure of the man she knew to be so strong, the tension was all but dissipated leaving only sadness and regret.

'He definitely had to look at his gun', she says softly as he opens the report. Her writing is strangely comforting in her trademark black ink. His eyes glance across the page as he reads aloud, confirming the events. His weapon expended six rounds; Tim Speedle's malfunctioned. There are many reasons for a weapon to malfunction, she reminds him, but the bottom line is, the weapon failed – thus closing the IAB investigation. They can grieve now, they can mourn for their colleague, their friend – their Speedle.

She turns to leave but he stops her, a barely audible whisper tugging at every heartstring. She blinks away tears and her breath catches in her throat as he whispers 'C'mere' and takes her into his arms, as much to comfort himself as to comfort her. He's trembling slightly as he holds her close and she tightens her hold, melting into him. She chides herself for feeling the way she does in his arms: safe, warm, ever so slightly aroused, even. A tear drops onto the top of her head, followed by another – and another, and yet another. She pushes herself up onto the tips of her toes and hugs him tighter, almost with a fierce anger.

He's more than broken, she realises, he's exhausted. She wriggles free of his embrace and lowers her hands to his wrists, leading him across the room to a set of wooden benches. She tugs gently on his arms, motioning for him to sit and he does. She sits beside him and leans into him, one arm around his waist and the other holding his hand.

As she rocks him back and forth, she idly wonders when he last ate. To just anyone, he'd look like your average workaholic, but to her, he was working himself into the ground – especially today. She realises she hasn't seen him eat more than a bagel and coffee in the last week and a half.

'Oh, Horatio', she whispers into the air. He's definitely lost a little weight, she concludes. He's clutching her hand tight, so tight she can't release it. Her fingers are slowly going numb but she doesn't mind – not yet, anyway. In a few minutes she'll prise herself free, she thinks, and she does. Ten minutes later, she wriggles free.

'I'll be ten minutes – less, even.' She informs him quietly, before walking briskly down the corridor and out into the warm Miami evening. The sun is beginning to set over the ocean and it casts a reddish-orange glow over the city. She runs to the deli across the street and orders food: two New York-style bagels, toasted and spread with cheese and topped with smoked salmon.

She retraces her steps back and glides into the locker room with a minute and a half to spare. He's still there, staring straight ahead at the wall, rocking himself back and forth. She slows as she walks around the row of lockers, her throat aching as she holds back sobs of her own. She touches him lightly on the arm as she slides back into her seat next to him, dropping the bag of bagels at her feet.

'When was the last time you ate, Horatio?' she asks gently. He turns slowly to look at her, eyes void of emotion. She knows he hasn't eaten recently. She picks up the bag and takes out a box, placing it in his hands. He stares at it for a moment, before opening it. The room is filled with the appetising smells but he barely flinches, much less eats. He closes the box after a while and places it on the bench beside him. He hears her sigh as she kicks off her boots and pulls her legs up under her, leaning into him again.

She finds herself with her head resting in his lap as he absently plays with her hair and it's strangely comforting, despite the backache she has from the wooden bench and odd angle. He hasn't uttered a word since he looked at the ballistics report and she hasn't spoken since she handed him the still-uneaten bagel. She sits up suddenly, startling him. She takes his hand in hers and rubs it gently – it's cold, he's never cold. His eyes are still empty as they dart anxiously around the room, fighting sleep with all the energy he has left.

She stands up and tugs on his hand, indicating he should follow suit. He stands slowly – just like everything else over the past hour or two. She tells him that she's taking him home and he doesn't complain. She leads him out of the building and through the parking lot to her Hummer, where she unlocks the doors and ushers him in.

She drives across town to his beachside house, wondering idly to herself how she knows where he lives, considering she's never been to his house before. She pulls up outside and hops out, breathing in the clean, sea air. For somewhere so close to everything, it was so quiet and peaceful. She helps him out of the car and leads him to the door, taking his key from him wordlessly. He takes her hand suddenly and leads her through the house to his room.

He looks at her and she's relieved when his eyes show something more than nothing – even if they are fearful.

'Stay with me?' he pleads, and she agrees – 'Always', she whispers in response.