Here's the next chapter in honor of Valentine's Day. Really. Because this Tuesday happens to be Valentine's Day, the choir I'm in voted to cancel rehearsal. We are doing well for the next concert, so we could afford to miss one, and many of the group wished to be elsewhere tonight. So I'm writing instead of singing. Tuesday rehearsal is usually the highlight of my week; give me some feedback to make up for missing it. Thanks to all who have reviewed already, and about the title, I doubt anybody quite has it yet, but the plot will thicken imminently.

(H/C)

"For there is nothing greater and better than this – when a husband and wife keep a household in oneness of mind."

Homer, The Iliad

(H/C)

The remainder of the day was spent untangling evidence, or at least attempting to. Staring at an uncooperative bullet that evening, Calleigh wasn't sure how much untangling she had achieved. Speed and Eric had spent the day painstakingly processing the very-complicated crime scene, and Calleigh had gone with Tripp to interview the other residents of the street, as well as the street behind the house. Nothing. No one had seen anything or heard anything from the house (with a shotgun and a handgun used?). No one noticed anything unusual about this weekend. Speed and Eric had turned up a mountain of evidence, but nothing was conclusive, so far. The perp or perps had been quite careful. Only Winslow's fingerprints and the victim's had been found on the doorknob. A hair had been found in the blood spatter on the pillow, but it matched Winslow's, and he admitted going up to the body. The killer probably had not gone beyond the foot of the bed. Alexx would do the official autopsy tomorrow, but it was pretty well established that the victim had died in her sleep. At least she had been spared the horror, Calleigh thought. Too bad that Winslow hadn't.

Calleigh was now working on the bullets, trying to extract fingerprints from the shotgun shells and the handgun casings, which were 9 mm. It was very hard to insert bullets into a gun wearing gloves. The perp, though, had been careful to grip them only by the very edges. Calleigh had retrieved only partials – very poor-quality partials. They might have matched hundreds of criminals in Miami. She literally growled at the latest bullet. Nothing.

Her cell phone rang, sounding obscenely cheerful, and she flipped it open without looking, resisting the urge to throw it. "Calleigh Caine."

"It's me."

Horatio. He must have realized by her tone that she hadn't checked caller ID. His own tone didn't sound quite right, though. "What's wrong, Horatio?" The concern from that morning abruptly flooded back over her.

"Dana from day care just called me. She wanted to know if we forgot to pick up Rosalind tonight."

Calleigh stared blankly at her watch. 6:45. How had it gotten to be 6:45? Her mind and her voice went into overdrive. "I'm sorry, Horatio, I was just working on this new case, and I lost track of time, and I'm leaving right now, okay?"

"I can take a taxi over to get her if you need to work late."

"No! You stay put. Call Dana and tell her I'm on my way. Bye." She was already flipping the phone shut as she said the last word. After quickly packaging the bullets and filing them, she bolted for the elevator, chewing herself out mentally. The few workers from second shift who were already around parted like the Red Sea, staying out of her way. She didn't notice. Her shoes beat a quick, annoyed staccato to her Jeep. No Mother of the Year award this year, Calleigh. You don't have the luxury of forgetting everything else while you're working anymore.

Dana was the one worker remaining at day care, staying with the one remaining child. Calleigh was already apologizing as she entered the building. "I am so sorry, Dana. We had a complicated new case come in today, and I just lost track of things."

"It's okay. She's never a problem." Dana hesitated. "We will have to bill you for the extra time, though."

"Of course. Sorry again. It's just been one of those days."

Dana smiled at her. "Don't worry about it. See you tomorrow, Rosalind."

"Bye," Rosalind replied. She was silent then until Calleigh was buckling her into the car seat, but her eyes had been tracking her mother ever since Calleigh arrived. She reached out a hand and put it over Calleigh's as the belt was about to be fastened. "Mama okay?" she asked.

Calleigh smiled at her reassuringly. Rosalind was so much like Horatio at times. "I'm fine, Angel. I forgot what time it was, that's all, but I didn't forget you."

Rosalind considered, then accepted it. "Okay. Home now?"

"Right. We're going home now."

"Let's eat."

"I know you're hungry, Angel. We'll eat soon. I'm sorry." Calleigh kissed her daughter, then closed the door and went around to the driver's seat. She realized for the first time that she had forgotten her jacket at CSI. It wasn't often needed in Miami, but the January night had turned chilly. She turned the heater on after starting the Jeep. "Are you cold, Rosalind?"

"No." At least Calleigh hadn't forgotten Rosalind's jacket in day care. She'd only forgotten the girl herself. Still annoyed, she pulled out into the road, heading for home.

"Dada okay?"

"I haven't really talked to him today, Angel, just once. He's probably feeling better now, but he won't be well yet."

Rosalind stared out the window at the passing cars. "Still stay down?"

Calleigh laughed. "We'll see. I hope he was good today."

"Horse!" Rosalind perked up instantly, spying a horse trailer in front of them. Calleigh felt some of the stress of the day slowly seeping out of her as Rosalind engaged in lengthy guesses as to what color of horse occupied the trailer and then, after they had turned different directions, kept her eyes peeled for another one.

Rosalind trotted up the sidewalk ahead of Calleigh when they got home, but she abruptly came to a halt at the door, obviously realizing that if she knocked, Horatio would have to get up to let her in. Grinning to herself, Calleigh hurried the last few feet up the sidewalk and opened the door.

Horatio was stretched out on the couch, but a savory smell filled the entire house. "It'll be ready in five minutes," he said, answering her raised eyebrow. Rosalind scrambled onto his lap, and he hugged her. "Hi, Angel. Hi, Cal."

"Horatio, you're supposed to be resting."

"And I have been. Honest. I was asleep when Dana called. Since you were running late, though, I thought I'd go ahead and cook. One less thing for you to do."

Calleigh bent over to kiss him on the forehead. He still felt a bit warm, but the improvement from that morning was significant. She marched back to the bathroom, took the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet, and inserted it into his mouth on her way back through to the kitchen. She inspected the oven, finding fish sticks, one of Rosalind's favorites. She got out three plates, poured drinks for all of them, and then split most of the fish sticks between herself and Rosalind, giving Horatio a few. She could tell from the number he'd cooked that he wasn't really hungry yet.

Leaving two plates on the table, she picked up one and a glass and came back into the living room. "Go and eat, Rosalind." Rosalind hesitated, looking back at her father. "I'm right here. Go ahead." Satisfied, her daughter trotted off to the kitchen, and Calleigh set down the plate and glass on the coffee table and extracted the thermometer. 99.5.

"Convinced that I'm better yet?" Horatio asked.

"Better, yes. Well, no." She handed him his plate. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better than this morning. I really did just lie around all day." He took a bite. "Yours is getting cold in there, Cal. Go get it and tell me about this new case."

She retrieved her plate, checked on Rosalind, who was happily eating fish sticks herself, although she was ignoring the silverware, and returned to drop into the recliner. Like Horatio the night before, she kicked off her shoes, and like herself the night before, he noticed.

"You remember Winslow Mitchell?"

He cocked his head slightly, accessing the mental files. The answer popped up amazingly quickly. "Your prom date."

"Right. Well, his wife was murdered today. Actually, not today, but he found her today."

Horatio sat up a little straighter. "I thought he was dead."

"So did I. I nearly fell over when I walked into that room."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Poor Cal. I'm glad someone he knew was there for him, though."

"So am I. He was in shock, of course."

"Of course. Why didn't he find her before today?"

"He's been on a long weekend sailing. Just got back this morning. Don't let your fish sticks get cold."

"Or yours." They ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes. Horatio finished the few she had given him, but he didn't ask for more. Calleigh smiled at him while she finished eating. What a guy. He had immediately been concerned for Winslow, even before wondering how it was he was still alive. Such compassion he had for victims' families. She set her empty plate on the coffee table to join his and settled back into the chair. Horatio was silent, giving her time to organize her thoughts.

"Turns out, Winslow was just captured for a while on a special assignment in the military. He wasn't killed after all, and I never actually followed up on it after being told by his mother he was dead."

He nodded. "You didn't want to push her. You probably didn't want details yourself."

"It wouldn't have made any difference. Well, if he had really been dead, knowing how wouldn't have mattered."

He understood, of course. "Details would be looking backwards, too. He was the last thing from your childhood you had to let go of in starting your new life."

"Exactly. In fact, he was the one good thing from Darnell."

He flinched. "I'm sorry, Cal."

"It's okay. Nobody picks their parents. I'm glad he was in Darnell, though. If I hadn't had one person I knew who was trustworthy, I would have arrived in college with a shell even thicker than it was."

"Did he blame himself for what your father did?"

"No, he blamed my father. He would have gone over to 'discuss it,' as he put it, but I begged him not too. I had already left home and moved in with a friend. What was the point? Nothing would have changed Daddy. Winslow and I never quite felt comfortable after that, though. Daddy changed our friendship, even when I tried not to let him. We wrote for a while after I left Darnell, but it got less and less often."

He nodded. "You still blame yourself for that, don't you?"

She sighed. "You're good, you know it? Yes, I blamed myself. Especially after I thought he was dead. I couldn't even remember what my last words to him were. He deserved better friends than that. How did you know I blamed myself, Horatio?"

"You've never wanted to talk about him all these years. There had to be a reason why." He smiled at her. "But I'm sure he doesn't remember you as a poor friend. And I'm sure you weren't one to him today."

She closed her eyes, replaying the words in his velvet voice. "Thank you, Horatio."

His eyes warmed her as she looked at him again. "Anytime. So, how did he wind up in Miami?"

"We weren't exactly catching up socially." He flinched, nodding. "I'm not sure what all he's done in the meantime. He did say he loves sailing, and that's probably one reason he picked this city."

"Tell me about the case."

"She was shot with a 12-gauge shotgun and a 9-mm handgun."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's called overkill."

"Believe me, it was. She was apparently asleep, at least. Perp stood at the end of the bed and fired. One strange thing; the shotgun shells were under the edge of the bed, but the 9-mm casings were out in the open." She could hear the gears in his mind turn, processing this. "Alexx hasn't done post yet, but rigor had fully worn off. Speed and Eric are processing the house – nothing conclusive so far. Tripp and I didn't get anything from the neighbors."

"Prints on the casings?"

"Only partials. He held them by the very edge. It's not enough for identity." She sighed. "That's what I was working on when you called. I just lost track of time."

"Understandable." He leaned back into the cushions a little, and she suddenly realized how tired he looked, much tireder than when she had gotten home.

"I'm sorry, Horatio. I'm talking away here, and you ought to be in bed."

"No, I ought to be listening to you. You needed to talk about it."

"All the same, you're going to bed early tonight. And by going to bed, I mean in the bedroom, not on the couch trying to turn a simple bug into pneumonia."

He gave in. "Okay. I'll admit, I'm still kind of weak. I'm sure I'll be well in the morning, though."

"It took both of us a full day and a half to get over it."

"Ah, but you got sick on the weekend. That's different."

"How?"

"Weekday bugs wear off faster than weekend bugs. Everybody knows that." His eyes twinkled at her.

She forced herself to keep a stubborn expression, although her lips were quivering a bit. "We'll see." The silence from the next room struck both of them in the same moment. Horatio raised an eyebrow and tilted his head that way, and Calleigh got up and quietly walked to the kitchen door in her bare feet.

"Hope! Get down from there." Hope, on the kitchen table being fed fish stick bites by Rosalind, looked up guiltily. Rosalind smiled at her mother, breaking off another small piece from the end of her last fish stick. Hope snatched it as Rosalind poked the rest of the stick into her own mouth.

"Hope hungry, too."

"Down!" Calleigh insisted, stalking to the table. Hope was a calico blur as she leaped. "Rosalind, you do not feed the cat on the table." Horatio was laughing in the next room. "Now then, let's get you to bed."

"Not yet," Rosalind said. She usually played for a while between eating and bedtime, but the whole schedule tonight was late.

"I know you just ate, but it's already bedtime tonight, because I was late picking you up. Now let's go to bed." Reluctantly, Rosalind hopped out of the chair.

Horatio spoke up from the couch. "I have to go to bed early, too, Rosalind. Why don't you come with me to make sure I behave?"

Rosalind perked up instantly. "Okay." She trotted into the living room, stopping in front of her father. "Bed, Dada!"

Smiling, Calleigh watched them head down the hall together. "I'll come tuck you in shortly," she called.

"Both of us?" Horatio asked as he turned into the bedroom.

"You'd better believe it. I just need to straighten things up a bit." She removed her gun and badge, which she hadn't taken time to do yet, and locked them into the desk drawer. Her shoes were retrieved from the middle of the floor – not that she really minded them there, but she knew Horatio did, although he wouldn't have mentioned it. She straightened up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and lectured a purring Hope, who appeared looking innocent for her nighttime splash of milk. "You've already had your treat tonight. You know better, Hope. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." Hope purred and rubbed through Calleigh's ankles, unrepentant.

Suddenly realizing how tired she was herself, Calleigh headed back for the bedroom and then stopped in the doorway, just enjoying the scene for a minute. Both of them were asleep already. Rosalind was tucked into Horatio's side, and he had one arm wrapped protectively around her. Golden hair and red lay side by side on the pillow, and in sleep, the lines faded somewhat from Horatio's face, making him for the moment look as peaceful as his daughter. She could have watched them forever. Finally, Calleigh tiptoed into the room, turning the covers back gently and moving Horatio's arm to extract their daughter. Horatio tightened his grip, then half-opened his eyes. "It's just me," she whispered. "Go back to sleep." She carried Rosalind across to the nursery, put her in her pajamas, and tucked her in, and her daughter never stirred. Calleigh undressed and slipped soundlessly into bed, and Horatio stirred in his sleep, his arm coming to rest around her, just like Rosalind. Calleigh snuggled against him and kissed him, checking his fever again. "Sleep well, love," she whispered. She closed her eyes and rested against him, feeling exhaustion overwhelm her. What a day, she thought. Poor Winslow. Wonder what will happen tomorrow. With that, she fell into the canyon of dreams.