Here's a bonus chapter in honor of a rainy day that prevented doing any work out on the farm this morning. There's a bit of a shift here, but we're far from being out of the woods yet with H/C. Probably 2-3 more chapters left on Betrayal (I'm never sure on length until I actually write them down). Reviews will determine when you get them. :)
(H/C)
"Something deeply hidden had to be behind things."
Albert Einstein
(H/C)
Calleigh awoke slowly, feeling sleep-logged. She hadn't gotten to sleep at all until after 1:30, when Horatio had come to bed finally, and it had taken a few more hours to really get soundly out. Her mind wouldn't shut down, like a dog gnawing a bone.
The morning light was spilling through the windows, already quite bright. She knew Horatio was up already; the other half of the bed behind her was empty and cold. Rolling over, she looked at the clock. Almost 8:00 a.m. She'd needed the sleep, but she still felt unrested. Maybe if she just ignored the morning and went back to sleep, she'd wake up again with everything all right.
The house was shrouded in silence. Even Rosalind, who was normally up by now, was quiet. Unless Horatio had taken her out on the beach or something and left Calleigh to sleep late. She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Hope heard and came running, jumping up on the bed and starting her breakfast-anticipating purr. "In a minute," Calleigh told her, standing up.
Rosalind was still asleep, curled around her favorite stuffed horse. Horatio was nowhere to be found. It was only on her second round through the house, as if she could have missed him the first time, that she thought to check the refrigerator door, their usual message center. He had left a note. "Calleigh, I've gone out for a run. Back soon. Love, Horatio."
Love. She studied the word. Why was he acting so suspicious lately, then? She had once, very briefly, questioned his faithfulness herself, although he never knew it, but that was only for a few hours under stress, and she'd quickly realized how absurd the idea was. The last few days weren't just a passing thought under stress but a bull-headed course of action that he absolutely refused to discuss or reconsider. "I love you, too, Horatio," she told the refrigerator, "but why won't you talk to me about this?"
"Mama? Dada?" Rosalind's voice echoed down the hall, and Calleigh sighed and put on a mask for her daughter as she headed to the nursery.
"Good morning, Angel." She lifted her out of the crib.
"Good morning. Dada?"
"He went out for a run, Rosalind. He'll be back soon." Rosalind accepted it. Whenever one of them went jogging these days, the other always stayed behind with her. "And then, guess what we're going to do? This is Saturday, Rosalind. Remember about Saturday?"
Rosalind perked up. "To the park!"
"Right. To celebrate all being well this weekend." Calleigh had never felt less like celebrating, but Rosalind would have remembered the agenda shortly, anyway. She knew when she didn't go to day care, it was the weekend, and she would never forget a promised trip to the park. Horatio at least seemed to agree with Calleigh on this much; they were both acting like everything was fine in front of their daughter. She fixed breakfast for the two of them and then settled down to wait for Horatio.
After one hour, Calleigh was surprised. After an hour and a half, she was annoyed. After two, she was starting to get worried. She played with Rosalind, trying to appear casual, but she found her fingers itching for the phone, then pulling back. Calling would put her in the position of appeal, and she was absolutely determined that he should be the first one to close the distance. She had nothing to apologize for. His list was growing by the minute, now including worrying her and his daughter.
What if something had really happened? She remembered vividly the morning a few years ago that Horatio had set off on a routine jog and disappeared for two days after being mugged. Her hand leaped for the phone of its own volition, and she had hit speed dial before her pride could stop her.
Two rings, and he picked up his cell. "Hi." He didn't say good morning, but he didn't sound hurt, either. Just guilty.
"Where are you?" It came out quite sharply, and Rosalind, in the floor with Hope, looked up at her mother in surprise. Calleigh forced the fury under the surface. Nothing was physically wrong. He just didn't want to be home, apparently. "We're waiting for you, Horatio."
"I'm sorry, Calleigh. I just lost track of things out running, and I went farther than I realized. I'm almost home now. About 10 minutes."
He had lost track of things. Horatio never lost track of things. He was a walking database of organization. "Well, hurry up," she said, trying not to snap at him in front of Rosalind.
Her daughter reached for the phone. "Dada?"
"Here, talk to your daughter for a minute. You had her worried." Calleigh thrust the phone at her daughter. Horatio had had her worried, too, but she wasn't going to admit it. Not when nothing had been wrong.
Only something was wrong. She knew it, he knew it, and even Rosalind had no doubt by now. "Okay, Dada?" her daughter said. Calleigh couldn't hear Horatio's response, but it must have reassured Rosalind. She relaxed, rattling off a story about birds she had seen on the beach that morning. Calleigh went into the kitchen to fix a cup of tea for herself and to escape her daughter's perceptive presence. Once there, she found herself staring at the cabinet doors like they would provide the answers she was seeking.
"Bye, Dada." Rosalind trotted into the kitchen, holding out the cordless phone. "Dada said bye. Home soon."
Calleigh took the phone from her and hit end. "Thank you, Rosalind."
Rosalind looked at her. "Mama okay?"
"I'm fine, Angel. We'll go to the park soon." She realized that the microwave was no longer running, although she hadn't heard it stop. She removed her cup and put in a tea bag.
"Hope, too?"
"We are not taking Hope to the park with us," Calleigh said firmly. Ever since seeing a few people in the park who had brought along their dogs, Rosalind had been campaigning to take the cat.
The front door finally opened, and Rosalind turned and ran into the living room. Calleigh followed more slowly.
"Dada!"
He bent to pick her up and hug her, lifting her up toward the ceiling before setting her back down again.
"Good morning, Angel. Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I just went out for a little run." He smiled tentatively at Calleigh. "Good morning, Cal."
"Good morning." Rosalind looked from one of them to the other, head slightly tilted. Horatio walked a few steps to the desk to put his cell phone and his keys on the corner in their spot.
"You're limping," Calleigh noted, concern flooding back in. Not much, but he was favoring that leg.
He gave her a reassuring smile, or an attempt at one. "I'm fine, Cal. Like I said, I went a lot farther than I'd meant to. Just lost track of time, and then I had to come back, too."
She studied him. Not only a lot farther but a lot faster, she deduced. His hair was absolutely plastered to his head, and he had sweated extensively through his sweatshirt on this January morning. Simply going for a run wasn't enough to bother him. He must have been running full speed over a long route, something he hardly ever did anymore, so consumed that he probably had not even been aware that he had jolted his leg. What had he been running from? Whatever it was, he hadn't escaped it. His eyes were still hooded, and she knew he wasn't going to let her in. "You should have called me to come get you."
"I didn't want to bother you," he replied.
Calleigh bit back several possible responses to that. Not in front of Rosalind, she told herself firmly. "You'd better go take a shower. Have you had breakfast?" His surprised look answered the question. No, he hadn't even thought of breakfast. "I'll fix you something while you shower."
"Thanks, Cal. After that, I'm going to go in to work, see what I can do on Winslow's case today. I know it's Saturday, but there might be people home today to talk to who weren't there before."
Rosalind had been listening to this whole exchange, looking back and forth from one to the other of them like she was watching a ping-pong game, but now, she suddenly spoke up. "No, Dada! To the park!"
Horatio smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Rosalind. Maybe Mama can take you to the park today, but I have to work. Some other time, okay?" She stared at him, stunned, and for once, Horatio didn't follow her expression and had to look back to Calleigh for translation.
"You promised her we'd all go to the park today, no matter what. Wednesday night, you promised. Remember?"
He literally jumped. "I'm sorry. I'd forgotten."
Calleigh was going to choke if she had to swallow many more of her words. "Rosalind, why don't you go back to your room and pick out what toys you want to take? We're going to the park. All of us." Rosalind hesitated, looking back and forth between them again. Waves of tension crackled in the room. "Go on, Angel. It's okay." Rosalind headed up the hall at a slow walk, far from her usual scamper, and Calleigh latched onto Horatio's arm and dragged him into the end of the kitchen, the farthest point of the house from Rosalind's room. She spun to face him squarely once they reached the cabinets. "What is wrong with you?" Her voice was a low hiss, like a snake, and he flinched. "You are going to keep your promise to your daughter, even if you break them to me."
His eyes fell away from hers, unable to stand what he was reading there. "I'm sorry, Cal. I just forgot I'd promised her."
"You don't forget things like that. At least, you never used to. Why are this case and keeping me away from Winslow suddenly more important to you than your own family?"
"They aren't, Cal. Believe me, you and Rosalind are the most important part of my life."
"You aren't doing a very good job of showing it lately."
"I'm sorry," he repeated helplessly.
"Sorry doesn't mean much unless something changes, Horatio. Are you going to let me back on the case and start trusting me again?"
"I do trust you, Calleigh."
She revised the question. "Are you going to prove it by letting me back on the case?"
"I can't. I wish I could, but I just can't."
She turned her back on him, opening the cabinet. "Go take a shower, Horatio. I'll fix you breakfast, and then, we're going to the park with our daughter as a family, and you are going to at least act like you're enjoying it, for her sake. I'm old enough to stand disappointment, but she's not."
He touched her shoulder, and she pulled away from him. After a few seconds, he turned, and she heard his footsteps retreating. She abruptly noticed her cup of tea still sitting on the cabinet untouched, and she put out a hand against the cup to test it. It was going cold.
(H/C)
The family outing took the rest of the day. After they ate lunch from a concession stand in the park, they spent the final part of the afternoon at the zoo, Rosalind's choice. She especially loved the big cats. All together, it should have been a wonderful family day, but neither Horatio nor Calleigh enjoyed it. She kept finding him looking at her with the oddest expression in his eyes. Rosalind was a bit subdued, too, although she enjoyed seeing the animals.
When they finally got home, Rosalind was thoroughly tired out and went to bed early without complaint. Calleigh really expected Horatio to do the same. Not only had he slept little and badly the last few nights, but he had run himself into the ground this morning and then walked around all day. He needed the rest. When she came back from tucking in Rosalind, though, he was already settled at the kitchen table with the ever-present case.
"Are you working tonight, too?" She tried to keep disappointment out of her voice.
He looked up at her briefly. "I'm sorry, Cal. I can't talk about it; I told you that."
"Actually, I wasn't expecting you to talk about it tonight. I've gotten the point by now that you won't discuss things, even if it annoys me. I just thought you could use some rest."
He relaxed somewhat, relieved to be off the dangerous subject. "I'm okay, Calleigh."
"You've hardly slept the last two nights, you're just getting over being sick before that, and I still can't believe what you did this morning. How's the leg?"
He gave her an honest answer, which surprised her. His own health was the one area he'd try to lie about under normal conditions. "It aches a little, but I didn't do any real harm. I really didn't mean to go that far, Calleigh, and once I realized I was bothering it, I stopped and walked all the way home. I'll know better next time."
"You knew better anyway," she pointed out. "What were you thinking of?"
He took the question literally and dodged back behind his wall instead of answering. "I'll try not to work so late on Winslow's case tonight. Tomorrow, I'm going to spend the day at CSI, though. I didn't promise Rosalind anything for Sunday, did I?"
She bit back a sharp response when she realized that it was an honest question. He wasn't trusting his memory. Horatio, not trusting his memory. Amazing. "No, you didn't. Horatio, when I asked you to make a real effort on this case, I didn't mean you needed to work on it 24/7. You're going to wear yourself out."
He smiled at her, but his temporary relaxation had vanished. "I'm fine," he insisted, and this time, she knew it was a lie.
She gave up, walking over to the microwave. "You want a cup of tea? I'm fixing myself one."
"That sounds good. Thanks, Cal." Neither of them said anything for a few minutes as she worked. He seemed totally focused on the file and apparently lost track of her, because he jumped slightly as she put the tea and two Tylenol next to him. "I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late with this, Horatio."
"I won't," he replied, and it was another lie. It was 3:00 a.m. before he joined her. She knew he realized she woke up, but they lay there in the darkness and silence, and neither one of them said a word.
(H/C)
Horatio didn't get in Sunday night until almost midnight, and he was as distant as usual these days, a totally locked, noncommunicative shell of his former self. They went to bed with eight inches and a canyon between them, and even after exhaustion had forced him into unwilling sleep, Calleigh lay awake staring into the darkness, looking for answers and not finding them. What on earth was wrong with him? Since yesterday morning, the hurt from Thursday night had slowly begun to be replaced by concern. Horatio seemed absolutely possessed by something, and she was starting to realize that it wasn't merely Winslow or the case. Something was badly wrong here, something she didn't understand. She vividly remembered a man in Darnell who had died of a brain tumor, and the first symptoms, even before anyone knew he was ill, were irrational personality shifts and paranoia. And last night, Horatio really hadn't been certain how much he remembered or how accurate it was.
She still was stunned at yesterday. He had never forgotten a promise to his daughter before. The job might intervene sometimes, but to simply forget wasn't Horatio. Her hands clenched on the blanket. That was it exactly. He wasn't acting like Horatio. She was married to a stranger. And yet the eyes, the expression, the almost-pleading note in his voice told her that he realized it as much as she did. But why wouldn't he talk to her? She was sure she could help him work through this, that things could be resolved if they could just talk it out. Part of her, too, was still annoyed and hurt, not just by being pulled from the case and by his ungrounded suspicions but by the fact that he refused to discuss it. After three years, including working with him on his mother's death and supporting him through the long convalescence after he'd hurt his leg, she'd thought he could trust her with anything at this point. She had been wrong.
She finally slid into restless sleep, only to be woken up a few hours later by Horatio. He was twisting, fighting something in his sleep, the covers being dragged off of her into a frantic knot. She reached over to touch him, and every muscle in his body was tense, his face slick with sweat. He pulled away from her hands, muttering something unintelligible, and his ragged breathing was loud in the quiet house. She caught him again by the shoulder, shaking him with gentle firmness. "Horatio! Come on, wake up, Horatio!"
He snapped awake abruptly, bolting up, halfway out of the bed before reality kicked in and he recognized his surroundings. He fell back limply against the mattress, and she pulled him against her, feeling his racing heartbeat. "It's okay, Horatio. Easy. It's okay."
He latched onto her with a grip tight enough to hurt. "Calleigh?"
"I'm here. Were you dreaming about your mother?" That was the only nightmare she could think of that affected him this strongly. Probably the crime scene photos from Winslow's case had reminded him.
"Yes." His voice was shaky. "But then it changed, and it was you. I'd lost you." He pressed closer against her, and his hands were trembling.
"I'm right here, perfectly fine. You're not going to lose me." Was it losing her he was afraid of? Had Winslow just been the symbolic embodiment of a much-older fear? Whatever it was, why didn't he trust her with it? "Horatio, why won't you just talk about it? Why are you suddenly shutting me out like this?"
He gave a shuddering sigh, and for once, he didn't reply that he couldn't talk to her. Instead, his voice was a desperate plea, barely audible, whispered into the darkness. "Hold me, Cal. Please, just hold me."
She held him.
