"Hello, thank you for calling 'Leap of Faith', how can we help you?" The voice is definitely male, low pitched and somewhat husky. It sounds warm and genuine which is throwing Eric off. He certainly didn't expect this when he decided to call.
after the death of his sister, eric calls a helpline catered to helping those who lost loved ones through medical diseases. he was looking for comfort, but didn't expect to find love.
tumblr — @ericdelko
in which ryan volunteers for a helpline company and eric calls in for help.
some of this follows the timeline of the show, like marisol does die, eric does get shot, and he does have memory loss. but there's also a few elements that aren't canon: walter and jesse join the team earlier, ryan is a detective who joins as tripp's partner, marisol dies from cancer and not getting shot, and speed and jesse are alive.
(loosely inspired by this fic by punk_rock_yuppie: your struggles, your dreams, your telephone number)
(/ = time skip)
Before everything had fallen apart, all that shit hitting the fan crap, Eric would have scoffed at the idea. But now, now Marisol is dead, she's gone, and he's left picking up the pieces of his shattered life.
His hand grasps the scrap of paper tightly and it crinkles loudly, a reminder of what he's succumbed to.
He scoffs. On the paper, neatly typed is, 'Leap of Faith', a helpline for those who lose loved ones to medical diseases.
Sighing loudly, Eric shakes his head and dives head in first, dialing the number scrawled on it and waits.
He's already had to convince himself just not to hang up at least three times when the other line picks up and a voice answers.
"Hello, thank you for calling 'Leap of Faith', how can we help you?" The voice is definitely male, low pitched and somewhat husky. It sounds warm and genuine which is throwing Eric off. He certainly didn't expect this when he decided to call.
"Um, hi. Uh…this is my first time calling one of these, what do i do?" He confesses hesitantly, feeling out of his element.
"No worries, no one ever thinks they'd be in this situation. Why don't you tell me the reason you called and we can go from there?" The man is quick to reassure and Eric's tense shoulders loosen slowly.
"My sister," he clears his throat, feeling it start to close up, the tell-tale sign of his emotions beginning to overwhelm him. He tries again. "My sister, she died a week ago. She was diagnosed with cancer a couple of months ago and tried to fight it."
He squeezes his eyes tight, in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing down his face. He's already cried, when he found out she had died, when he had to tell their family. When he ran into Horatio, his boss who was usually so put together and unfazed at the thought of danger, practically fall apart at the news of Marisol's death, Eric walked away, his heart breaking. He had spent the night home bawling over the thought that his sister was gone and he'd never get to experience life with her ever again. Yesterday, he had to arrange her funeral, his mother too upset to pick out the service. He was able to do so, but not without alternating between crying his eyes out and trashing everything in his apartment.
Eric had gone to the hospital to finish up any last minute paperwork and bills need to pay. One of the nurses, a kind and young soul who took care his sister, took one look at him and shoved a flyer in his hands, murmuring sympathies and get some help.
Later on, after another session of crying over Marisol's death, he dug through his pocket, forgetting all about that flyer until he found it randomly.
Eric thought he had nothing to lose, and besides, work has been hard to handle with all the sympathy and pity looks thrown his way over his sister.
He's shaken out of his thoughts when the man on the other side of the line replies.
"I'm sorry about your sister," and it sounds like he really means it. It warms Eric in the chest that a total stranger would be sorry and Eric would actually believe it, even more than it coming from people he knows.
The man continues. "Most of the time, people would say, 'I don't know what you're going through' or 'I can't imagine what you're going through'."
He pauses, and Eric chimes in. "Are you going to say that too? Cause let me tell you, I have had enough of people coming up to me and telling me that."
"No," the man says, and Eric detects something in his voice.
"My mother died from cancer when I was younger," he shares, and Eric closes his eyes, sadness coming over him for this stranger.
"The doctors," his voice hitches for a moment before he continues. "The doctors, they said they caught it too late, and I had to watch her slowly die for months, not being able to do anything about it."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay, it was a long time ago. I made my peace with it, there really was nothing I could do about it."
"I'm still sorry…? Wait, what's your name?"
The man sounds amused to Eric when he answers. "It's Ryan, and since you asked first, it's only fair that I get to ask for yours."
Eric's lip quirks up briefly hearing that. "Fine, it's Eric. Can I ask…what you do?"
He can hear regret twined in the man, Ryan's voice when he responds. "Sorry, but I can't say. Something about privacy rights, blah, blah, blah, in the contract or something like that." He laughs, a light chuckle that makes Eric feels something. "Truth be told, I wasn't paying attention during that part."
Eric laughs, his first time since Marisol's death he notes, and sobers immediately at the thought that he's essentially betraying her. He's laughing when she's the one who's dead and the joy he briefly felt disappears just as quickly as it appear.
"It's okay to laugh, Eric." Eric has a brief rush of respect for the man, he's quick to notice the mood change and his instincts are spot-on on what eric's thinking.
Ryan elaborates. "I thought that too at first. That I had no right to be happy when my mom was the one who was dead. She'd never get to feel that happiness ever again and that it was wrong for me to feel it." He breathes out deeply. "But it's not wrong. It just takes time, you know that crap about how time heals wounds and all? Like I know it sounds like bullshit, but there is something to it that's true."
Eric stretches out on the couch, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder when he asks. "So? Did it work for you?"
They both can hear the hopeful tone in his voice when he asks.
"Sometimes I think I'm okay, but other times…" Ryan trails off for a second and when he returns, Eric can hear the weariness in him. "Other times, I'll see something that reminds me of her, or I'll hear something that I think she would have enjoyed if she was still alive."
He adds, "I think it really depends on the person."
Eric hums, fingers tapping against his thigh. He feels content right now, right here, talking to a random guy he doesn't know, about his sister.
His phone dings and he pulls it away to check. He groans when he sees it's a query about the flower arrangements for the funeral.
When he pulls the phone back up to his ear, he catches the tail end of Ryan's question.
"— need to check that?"
Eric's sure his eye roll is obvious through the phone when he answers. "Yeah. I, uh, have to go, it's important."
"Alright," is all he gets back and he feels a brush of nerves.
His palm is slick with sweat when he asks Ryan. "What, uh, what do i do if i want to call again?" He's afraid he didn't convey what he actually means. Thankfully, Ryan catches on to what he's saying immediately.
"Oh. Oh! Well, next time you call and someone else picks up, you can request me by name. They usually let you do that; They're good like that. If I'm not available at that time, they'll make sure I'll get it and I'll return your call when I am available. Is that okay with you, Eric?"
He feels a rush of relief flood through him at that and he nods. "Yeah, that's good, that's great actually. Thank you, and I guess, talk to you soon, Ryan?"
He can hear the grin in Ryan's voice when he answers. "Talk to you soon, Eric."
/
For months, Eric establishes this routine, of calling the helpline and requesting to talk to Ryan.
The first time after they talked, Eric was nervous when he called, wondering if Ryan had really meant it when he said that he was willing to talk again.
A grin lights up on his face when the line picks up and Ryan answers.
It continues from there, both of them sharing their loss over people they loved and talking about random things that happened during their day.
They don't talk about their personality lives, honoring that contract that Ryan had to sign about not sharing anything personal about himself.
But it becomes a safe spot for Eric, to share his grief, to have someone who somewhat understands what he's going through and not have to deal with the superficial condolences he still gets at work.
Eric can even admit, it fills a void in him that wasn't there before. Hearing Ryan's voice, late at night, is strangely intimate, which is bizarre because they've been talking to each other for a while and he has no idea what Ryan even looks like or who he is.
It's even more unusual, because Eric has fallen in love with the man.
He doesn't know when or how, but somewhere along the line, late night phone calls and shared laughter as stories are told about Marisol and Ryan's mom, Eric had fallen in love.
All he has is a name, some details, and a soothing voice that he gets to hear every time he picks up the phone. But apparently, it's enough for Eric.
And then he gets shot.
/
Afterwards, the world is different.
He had survived, a miracle, the doctors tell him when he comes to.
All Eric had remembered was that he had been looking for a missing hostage in a parking garage with Horatio. Then he felt a burst of pain in his head and everything turned dark.
Of course, there were side effects to surviving from this. He had almost died after all, no surprise that he'd lose something with gaining his life back.
Memory loss, he had been informed by Alexx. not critical, but he would have to experience a few things again. And it certainly was true, when Calleigh visited him and told him the first thing he had said when he woke up was about his sister. Apparently he forget that Marisol was dead, had been dead for months now.
Eric had overcome that, slowly falling back into his usual pattern of work and his life. But despite everything, his life going back to normal, his recovery slow but progressive, he knew there was something missing.
Sometimes, late at night, memories flash in his head. A image of him talking on the phone, a low chuckle in his ear, a feeling of warmth glowing in his chest. It confuses Eric, because he can't seem to grasp where this all came from.
He's played with the idea of asking around, but what would he even ask? Eric doesn't even know what it is.
And then he meets Ryan.
/
He's returning from a crime scene, tasked with canvassing for evidence, maybe even bullet casing if he gets lucky. Eric pauses in his movements when he spots Calleigh waving him over to the group gathered in the conference room.
When he steps over the threshold, he analyzes the room. it's filled with the usual suspects, Horatio standing at the head of the table, Natalia and Calleigh seated side by side to H's right. Speed sits across them, on the left side of the table, talking about something exciting, a sign of that by his hands gesturing wildly, to Jesse, an old recruit who recently transferred back from L.A. And in the corner of the room, Tripp stands, eyes shining in amusement as Walter, newly promoted from the night shift, is having a hushed conversation with a handsome young man.
Eric pauses, eyes locked on the stranger, and notes the badge hanging from his belt, the gun placed on his hip and his defensive stance. He looks like he's ready to pounce if danger arises and wonders if he's a detective.
His profile is spot-on, when after Horatio notices the last of his team has arrived, calls the morning briefing to order and introduces Tripp's newest partner, detective Ryan Wolfe.
The man steps up, dark green eyes darting from face to face and smiles. "Hey," he says and Eric momentarily has a thought, a feeling that that voice sounds familiar.
He pushes the idea aside, choosing to pay attention and focus on their latest case as everyone tosses theories around. The man, Wolfe, decides to observe, remaining quiet as he listens instead of participating.
It hits him, much later, when he's called in to a new crime scene, relating to their current case as the newest victim has a connection to the first one.
Wolfe is on the scene, having arrived first with Tripp, and he's clearly waiting for Eric, pacing back and forth outside the house.
Eric ducks under the yellow tape and strides towards him.
Green eyes meet his when Wolfe looks up at his footsteps.
"Hey, Eric, right? So what had happen was…"
Eric can feel the headache growing from the back of his head, a sign that his brain is working overtime to place that voice, why it's so familiar.
He finally remembers when the memory plays through his mind, vivid as he remembers all those late night phone calls, the shared burden in his sister's death, the low voice in his ear.
When Eric comes to, he discovers that he was led towards a bench, a hand wraps gently around his upper arm, someone crouching in front of him, and that familiar voice murmuring comforting nonsense in his ear.
His eyes open, to the sight of Wolfe, no, Ryan, his mind quietly corrects.
"Ryan?"
He watches Ryan's eyes widen in recognition, his body tensing.
"Eric?" the disbelief is clear in Ryan's voice, confusion blooming in his face, and Eric smiles.
A year later, after his sister's death and a couple months after he was shot, Eric laughs joyfully on a sunny afternoon, sitting on a bench at the crime scene, in front of his new co-worker who was the one who saved him during a dark time in his life. He finally remembers and the void that had felt missing since he woke up from the accident, is filled.