Chapter 4

I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world

"Mad World", Gary Jules

The house was dark when she finally pulled into the driveway late that night. She let herself in and dumped her bag on a chair with a sigh. There was a light on in the kitchen, but the house was too quiet for Tim to still be up. She kicked off her shoes and wandered into the kitchen to find a note on the table.

Hi Cal- There's chicken paprikash in the blue Tupperware in the fridge if you're hungry. I hope your day was ok and that it's not incredibly late when you got in. See you in the morning, maybe- Tim

She glanced around the kitchen. It was sparkling clean. She shook her head, but didn't investigate the fridge. Dinner was the last thing on her mind by then. She really just wanted to take a shower and collapse. Stretching, she walked down the hall. Tim's bedroom door was half open to let the cats wander in and out as usual. She poked her head in to check on him.

He was asleep, but his restlessness had tangled him up in the blankets in a way that was going to leave him cold, if he wasn't already. She slipped into the room and walked over to the bed quietly.

"Cal?" he mumbled sleepily as she reached to straighten the blanket.

"I should hope so," she replied, smiling a bit.

"Mmm," he said, half cracking his eye open. "Time's it?"

"About 11," she said, helping him untangle himself from the blankets. She drew them back up over his shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed

"Ah," he yawned. "I made dinner, did you see?"

"I saw the note. I ate already, but I'll take it for lunch tomorrow, if that's ok," she said. "The kitchen looks great, though."

"Thanks. Oh, your dry-cleaning is hanging by the washer," he said.

"Thanks," she said. She'd intended to pick that up on her way home tonight, but the dry cleaner had been long since closed when she'd finally left the lab.

"Welcome," he said, squinting at her. "Bad case?" he asked, after a moment.

"Well, there's no really good time to get murdered, but finals week during your first semester of college has to be one of the worst," she sighed.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Long one?"

"No, actually. That's why I'm late- we made an arrest already," she said.

"Yeah?" he said.

She nodded. "Yeah. Apparently, there'd been some sort of drunken experimental one night stand that both parties weren't as ok with as they thought they were."

"That's a reason to kill someone?" he asked.

"Who knows?" she sighed. "Anyway, our perpetrator's roommate declined to give him an alibi and gave us enough for a warrant, and we found the gun that matched the bullets and a jacket that had the same fabric content of some fibers we found and it was all wrapped up in once nice neat package, so we arrested the kid."

"Well, that's something, anyway," he yawned.

"Mm-hm," she said. "I'm beat, I need a shower. Horatio called before I got the chance to take one this morning."

"So go take one," he said, sleepily.

"I am," she said. "Sleep tight."

"Mmm," he mumbled, as she stood up. "You too."

"Night, Tim," she said, pulling the door half shut on her way out.

She took her shower, but despite her exhaustion, she didn't go straight to bed, since she hated sleeping on wet hair. The hairdryer, however, would be sure to wake Tim and the cats up. So she took the book she was reading to the living room and settled down on the couch to read until her hair dried enough to no longer be cold.

The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her shoulder and calling her name. "Cal?"

Her eyes opened to find Tim standing over her. "Huh? What?"

"I thought you'd missed your alarm," he explained.

"What time's it?" she asked, sitting up.

"6:15," he said.

"Oh, God. Sorry," she said.

"No, it's fine. Did you sleep here all night?" he asked.

"Must have. I didn't mean to, I just didn't want to go to bed with wet hair," she said, vaguely. She glanced at the clock. "Oh, hell," she said, as the time actually sunk in. "I'm gonna be late."

"No, you're not. Go get dressed, I already put on the coffee," he said, walking over to the door to retrieve the newspaper.

"Right," she said, walking down the hall to her bedroom. She got herself together and dressed quickly, walked back to the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Sitting on the table was the blue Tupperware that presumably held the remainder of the chicken paprikash Tim had made the night before. On top of the container was an apple and a small bag of pretzels. She blinked at it and turned towards the kitchen and asked, "Did you make me lunch?"

"You don't have time to fuss about it, just sit and eat," Tim said, handing her a plate with two slices of French toast. He sat down with his own plate and the maple syrup. She joined him after a moment of staring blankly at him.

"Thanks," she said, as she started eating her breakfast. "I really appreciate it."

"Someone's gotta take care of you," he mumbled, not looking at her.

She didn't say anything, knowing it would just embarrass him. "I figured you'd go back to bed."

"No, I gotta get my teeth checked at 8," he said. "And then I've got Andy at 11."

"Ah," she said. "Are you going to talk to him about the counseling?"

He nodded as he took a bite. "Yeah. I want to do it before I think about it too much and make it harder."

"Makes sense," she said, finishing her toast and taking her plate to the sink. "What are you going to do after that?"

"The office, I think. I want to go through some of it, clean out the file boxes, clean up the computer, that kind of thing," he said. "I've been meaning to for awhile."

"Sounds good," she said. She glanced at her watch. "I've got to get going. You have a good day."

He nodded as she scooped up the lunch. "Cal?"

"Hmm?" she asked, looking back at him.

"It's going to be all right, you know? We'll make it all right," he said.

She looked at him in some surprise. "Ok," she said, finally.

"Have a good day," he said.

"Right, you too," she said, walking of the room and out the door, grabbing her bag on the way out.

She felt stunned as she got in the car and turned the key. In the nearly 5 years that she'd known Tim, she had never, ever, ever once heard him be the least bit optimistic about anything. Ever. It had been all she could do to not stand there with her jaw dropped, or to ask if he was feeling sick, or to ask who it was sitting in front of her and what they'd done with Tim.

A horn honked behind her and brought her back from her shocked reverie. "It's a mad, mad world," she mumbled to her reflection in the rear view mirror as she turned down the road to the causeway.