Okay, I suck, I know. My updating is not what it once was, and, for that, I apologise. I think I've finally worked out just what the hell I am doing with this fic, though, so maybe I can pick up the pace again. I hope, anyway. This chapter is a little different to the others, but I think it's necessary for the story to progress.

Special thanks have to go to Adorelo, who lets me complain at her enough so that I actually get things written. Have a squishy hug!

Edit: Changed a word. American English/UK English - how is it that we differ so much!

Enjoy.


A Word From The Wise...


The room was quiet, save from the occasional beep of her heart monitor, or the incessant ticking noise from the clock on the wall. And Eric continued to sit there, silent and still, watching for any sign that told him that Calleigh was waking up. On and on the seconds dragged; tick... tock. Tick... tock. Tick... tock. Tick -

"Eric?" a familiar voice called out from the doorway. "Has there, uh, been any change?"

Glancing up, his eyes connected with those of Calleigh's father, Kenwall Duquesne. Shaking his head, Eric answered quietly, "No. Nothing."

Kenwall nodded, his gaze falling briefly to the floor as he composed himself - a gesture that was typical Calleigh, Eric couldn't help but think to himself as he glanced back over to her bed. He waited until he heard the other man move further into the room before he spoke again. "I keep thinking that I see things, you know? Keep thinking that I can see her move..."

Her father remained silent, merely nodded again, and instead took the opportunity to reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and whispering, "Hey, Lambchop. Your mother's on her way." Then, turning to Eric, he forced a smile, adding, "Lord knows I could never sleep with the racket that woman makes. Maybe Calleigh'll think the same."

A small chuckle escaped Eric, the first in a long time, and he asked, "How are you holding up?"

He wasn't surprised when Kenwall answered, "A lot better than you, clearly," giving him a piercing stare that put even Calleigh to shame. Feeling a little self-conscious, Eric tightened his grip on the photo album, hugging it to his chest as he straightened in his chair - a movement that didn't go unnoticed. "What's that?" came the deep Southern voice, the same one Calleigh used when she was looking for a straight answer, and Eric couldn't help but smile.

"It's, uh - " He paused, not sure that he was ready to let someone else in on his private coping mechanism... but one look at Kenwall's face told him he better start talking. "It reminds me of her," he said simply, holding the album out to him, hating the loss he felt as soon as it left his hands. And he watched in silence as her father began to leaf through it.

Eventually, Kenwall shut the book. "How about we take a walk?" he asked, though Eric knew it wasn't a question. So, with a sigh, he stood, realising that he had no choice but to follow.

They moved out of her room and down the corridor in silence, Kenwall only breaking it when he led them out into a courtyard garden and gestured for Eric to sit down on the bench next to him. "I'm glad she has you," he murmured quietly, letting the comment linger for a moment before he continued with, "but you can't keep doing this to yourself. You need - "

"What I need is to be here, with her," Eric cut in, a little more sharply than he'd intended.

Kenwall ignored him, however, instead regarding him with a knowing smile. "When was the last time you shaved? Showered, even? You think the first thing my daughter wants to see when she wakes up is the state you've got yourself into?"

Eric looked away, then, knowing the man was right. But he wasn't ready to leave her, not yet, anyway. He returned his gaze when he heard the sound of pages being turned, and he raised an eyebrow when he realised Kenwall was searching through the photo album. "What are you - " His question died from his lips when her father held up the book, pointing to a photograph that Eric had almost forgotten about, to a photograph he wasn't even aware had been in there.

And he knew exactly where Kenwall was going with it.

The man must have sensed it, too, for he said nothing, instead laid the photo album flat on the bench and stood up. Placing a hand on Eric's shoulder, he then told him, "I'm going to sit with her for a little while." And without waiting for a response, he walked back into the hospital.

Glancing down at the photograph Kenwall had highlighted, Eric sighed, shaking his head a little as he forced himself to remember. It had been taken before he and Calleigh became an item, shortly after he'd been shot and nearly... nearly died.

It was a picture of the two of them, captured by a nurse after a physio session; one that he'd passed with flying colours. The therapist had told him it was important to remember achievements like that, especially so soon after the incident, and so Calleigh had come up with the idea of taking a photograph to mark the event, to use as a visual aid in case things got tougher.

She'd been amazing during that time, he remembered; continually there for him. Even to the point of exhaustion.

/EC/

He awoke in his hospital bed to find her beside him, curled up in the bedside chair and sleeping, a soft frown colouring her features as she lost herself to dreams. And he took a moment to watch her, thinking that he could get used to this. Although, hopefully, in a slightly different situation... one where she was actually in his bed, one where he could -

"Stop it," she murmured sleepily, opening an eye to mock-glare at him.

"What?" he grinned, rolling over onto his side so he could get a better look at her.

"Staring at me," she yawned. "Anyway, you should be sleeping. You need rest; it's been a long day."

He held her gaze for a moment, arched his eyebrow and told her, "I don't think I'm the one that needs sleep, Calleigh. You've been here what, nine hours now? I thought today was meant to be your day off."

"It was," she replied simply, looking down at the floor for a moment. "But I wanted to see how you were doing. The lab's, um, it's not the same without you."

"And you're still here because?" He tried to lace his question with a light tease, but he couldn't hide the hope in his eyes as he asked it. The hope that maybe... maybe she cared for him as more than just a concerned friend. She must have seen it, too, for she fell silent, hugging herself as a shiver ran through her. Feeling like he needed to say something, Eric began with, "Calleigh, I - "

"I miss you," she said quietly, pulling at a loose thread on her top.

He sighed, rolling onto his back as her words began to digest. It wasn't a clear revelation of love, by any means, but it wasn't a definite no, either. So, deciding to play it safe, he said, "You're exhausted, Calleigh. You need to go home; get some sleep." When she made a noise to protest, he cut her off with, "No, you're not sleeping here. You stay in that chair all night and you're gonna wake up with a cricked neck. Now, be gone with you."

She made no attempt to move, however, and he rolled his eyes, hating that she had to be so stubborn all the time. "I'm not going anywhere," he told her, "you can stop by tomorrow, after work."

"I'm just..." She paused, clearly considering her words. "Eric, I was really scared when - "

"I know," he breathed, turning back over to face her, holding her gaze with his most sincere one. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand. She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity got the best of her and she moved out of the chair, slipping her fingers through his. Ignoring the tingling sensation at the contact, he slid their joined hands up to his chest, settling them over his heart. "You feel that?" he asked, continuing when she nodded, "I'm okay."

A small smile broke through onto her features, and she waited a few seconds before she pulled her hand back. "You are," she said, though he got the feeling that it was more for her benefit than his.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Now, would you go home? Please? I don't want you making yourself ill over me."

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "I'll call you tomorrow and see how you're doing," she told him as she reached for her bag, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she turned to leave.

"You better!" he called after her, stretching out his fingers as the warmth of her touch travelled through them.

/EC/

It was something he did now - flex his hand - as he remembered how it felt.

How she felt.

But he knew he couldn't go on like this, hopelessly dreaming their past and wallowing in his own self-pity. He'd refused to let Calleigh even spend the night in his hospital room, and he dreaded to think how many hours he'd been in hers for now.

He laughed when he realised that she'd call him a hypocrite when she woke up. And, deciding it was time to do something about that, he stretched his legs and stood up, making sure to pick up the photo album as he did so; he wasn't quite ready to let go of it, yet.

But after realisation comes acceptance, or so he'd often been told, anyway. And it was with a much lighter heart that he made his way back into the hospital, down the corridor and into her room.

Kenwall looked up as he entered, shot him a questioning glance and asked, "My work here done? Or are you going to be a mopey, pain in the ass for a little longer?"

Eric laughed at that, another realisation sinking in at the words. "H phoned you, didn't he?"

"Maybe," came the reply.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. Then, moving over to Calleigh, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, telling her softly, "I'll be back, okay."

"Make sure you take that shower before you do," Kenwall warned him, holding a hand out for Eric to shake.

"I will," he said, returning the gesture. "And, uh, thanks... for everything."

"Don't mention it," Kenwall smiled. "You're practically family now." He waited until Eric had reached the door before he called, "I'll phone if there's any change!"

Making his way out and into the parking lot, Eric reached up to the side of his head and ran his fingers down the small scar that rested there, wincing as the memory of how it happened flashed through his brain. But then a new one took hold, reminding him of another moment he and Calleigh had shared. He tried to fight it at first, knowing that he needed to try and regain some control over his life.

But everything about her was magnetic.

And he found himself slipping within seconds; back to a time during the early stages of their romantic relationship, a time when they were still learning about one another.

/EC/

As he made his way up her driveway, he checked his watch, hoping it wasn't too late for a spontaneous visit. He could see her lights were still on, though, and he decided he could always go back to his own house if she chose not to answer. Although, he hoped that wouldn't be the case. He'd barely seen her all day at the lab - she'd been snowed under - and, as silly as it sounded, he missed her.

Deciding to just knock and see what happened, he rapped quietly against the wood, smiling when she appeared after a few moments. "You always answer the door like that?" he teased, raising his eyebrows at the single item of clothing she had on - one of his sweaters that he'd left the other day.

"I keep my gun close..." she replied, flashing him a smile. "Besides," she told him, "I knew it was you."

"Oh?" he asked, taking a step forwards.

"Yeah, I heard the sound of a car. Naturally, one gets curious about these things..."

"You peaked out the window?" he deduced, his body now inches away from hers. "How very CSI of you."

"I like to think so," she breathed, just before he kissed her, running her fingers along his forearms. "I've still got work to do," she murmured once he broke the contact. He simply nodded, stealing another kiss before he turned to go.

Her voice stopped him.

"Hey, um, sit with me a while?"

He smiled, moving back over to her and brushing his hand through her hair. "Always."

Having led him down the hallway and into the living room, she gestured over towards the couch and told him, "I'll be right back." And then she was gone, returning moments later with a stack of paperwork which she promptly deposited on the table, before settling herself beside him.

"Tough day?" he asked, as she sat forward to begin sorting through the reports she had to sign off on.

"Yeah," she sighed, arching an eyebrow over her shoulder when he began to trace lightly up her spine through the fabric of his sweater. "You know, you can help yourself to a drink or anything."

"I'm okay," he told her simply, starting to rub smooth circles now. He caught sight of a knowing smile, but she chose to say nothing more, instead reaching for a pen and crossing one leg under her as she began to scan over a sheet of paper.

That was when he noticed it.

The tiny scar that ran along the inside of her thigh. And he found himself wondering how he'd never noticed it before. "What's that from?" he asked quietly, causing her to look over at him, following his gaze to her leg.

"Oh," she started, "it's nothing. My brothers were playing a game of frisbee; I got in the way." She glared at him when he began to laugh, swatted at his chest when he didn't stop. "It's not funny, Eric! Those things really hurt. They're lethal." She opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off with a kiss, effectively silencing her. He knew he was going to pay for it later - especially when she bit down on his bottom lip - but he didn't care, and as she parted her mouth with a sigh, he deepened the kiss; his tongue making slow, deliberate strokes against hers...

/EC/

She never did finish that paperwork, Eric remembered with a smile. At least not that night, anyway. She'd been annoyed with him in the morning, actually refused to speak to him for a good few minutes, but he soon managed to bring her round; he always could.

But not like this. Not in his current state. Because Kenwall Duquesne was right.

This needed to stop.

And it would, he hoped.

Climbing into his Hummer he took a moment to close his eyes, to force himself to focus on something that wasn't her. And he nearly succeeded, but he couldn't help the small thought that tugged at his mind, the one that told him he didn't know how long he could hold onto this new-found thread of... realisation.

And as he reached for the ignition, he knew that Calleigh needed to wake up soon.

Very soon.

Because his sanity depended on it.