A/N: After another month of not updating because of work and such I am back with a longer update! You may now begin with the love! Or not...
Warnings: Violence, gunfire, gunshots, blood, fear, paranoia, all that good stuff.
Disclaimer: I still don't own squat people other than my laptop...
Secondary A/N: I am not entirely sure about the accuracy of this title, it feels wrong...
Chapter Three: Disparos a Medianoche (Gunshots at Midnight)
It was late, as well as the moon's position well above the window pane of Eric's home indicated. He looked at the clock, 11:50 it blinked back to him teasingly, admonishing his insomnia. Not a night has passed since he had left CSI and Calleigh that he'd gotten a decent night's sleep and tonight was no exception to the week-and-a-half's rule. He stared at the television that the clock was just above and reached for the remote and pressed the 'power' button. The TV flickered to its 'on' state for a moment before Eric scoffed at the show, or rather infomercial, that now plagued his screen. He pressed the channel button once to reveal some boring reality show about some island. He pressed the button again after half a minute and revealed another show, this time a cooking show. He gagged slightly as the ingredients were listed. Gross, truly, how much detail someone could go into just to cook a simple dish. He pressed the guide button and then the down button to flick through channels quicker. Finding nothing of particular interest he grumbled something similar to 'over a hundred channels and nothing on' and pressed the power button again, finding comfort in the dark silence of the box.
He stared at the clock again, 11:52. Great, another ticking minute to remind him that he now had all the time in the world but still couldn't have what he wanted. He swallowed somewhat, only to find his mouth dry. He forced himself off the couch and trudged into the 'kitchen' or rather the area that he stored his glassware and a few small things as he rarely cooked for one. He grumbled again and turned on the cold tap water, letting it run for a few seconds before grabbing a glass and placing it under the trickling liquid. He took a sip to test the temperature. Finding it adequate he took a rather large second drink, finishing the glass in the third. He wiped his chin of any water that had escaped and put his glass in the sink. He trudged back to the living room, or rather where his couch was, and stared at the clock again.
11:54, it mocked him. The end of the physical day was fast approaching but not fast enough for his tastes. He just wanted another day to pass to prove that time healed all wounds, even those caused by oneself. He sighed again and began to pace, if only slightly, between the kitchen and the living room. It comforted him, if only a bit, to hear the sounds of his own footsteps against carpet, then wood, then carpet again. That and it killed time that he seemed to have too much of on his hands, if you will excuse the pun. He looked at his hands on what seemed to be his fifth, or possibly seventh, round of pacing, trying to piece together the meaning of his lonely existence. Yep, way too much time on his hands.
He stared at the infernal time again, this time it read 11:58. Another two minutes and a new day would be greeting him, if only in a literal sense. The new day didn't dawn, officially, for another at least six hours. He growled slightly and went back to the kitchen and filled his glass again with cold water. He took it with him on his return trip, only to have an all to familiar sound greet his eardrums...
A single bang. All of his life always seemed to change with that one sound, that one hated and familiar sound. He found that it was followed by him quickly dropping the glass, the object shattering all over the floor. He found shortly after that he was inspecting his person for blood. Finding it absent he regained his senses and stepped over the broken glass and toward his living room to look for any other broken glass. Finding it absent after a second and third glance he raced to the door and opened it, his former cop instincts coming into full fruition. He looked up and down his block to see the street lights dim against the darkness but it was enough. The familiar sight of crimson on the ground made him reach for his cell phone. Too bad he'd forgotten it inside. Damn, not his night. He grumbled again and walked toward the scene, to see if anything could be done. A single wound to his next door neighbor greeted him and he shook his head. Something was definitely off about this whole mess, other than the fact that someone he didn't know was dead right in front of him.
He jogged, well more like half-jogged, back to his house and grabbed his cell phone off the table he'd left it on. He pushed a few buttons to see another familiar thing, this time the name of Horatio and a number. He pressed another button and the phone rang. He heard a sleepy "Hello" come from his former 'boss'
"H, it's Eric, there's been a shooting... Right next door to me." He said as calmly as possible, trying to hide the fact that a minute before he'd dropped his glass.
"Mm?" Horatio said in a strange tone, as if expecting more out of Eric then just a short bit.
"The man, that is my neighbor, is dead H. I don't know what kind of gun it was but I heard it right about..." He looked at the clock, 12:03. He figured it had taken him a minute to compose himself, another minute to figure out where the shot had come from and track it to his neighbor, and another to jog home and grab his cell. "About three minutes ago, midnight."
"I see, we'll be there shortly..." Horatio's voice answered quickly.
"We?"
"Certainly. This is a ballistics case, after all. If there is any casings..."
"Calleigh..." Eric interrupted, more like sighed. He'd see his angel again, if only for a moment.
"Yes, Calleigh..." Horatio said in a 'that is so obvious' tone that almost spooked Eric. Of course anyone that knew Horatio would know that he was once again shocked at Eric's demeanor. Weird night indeed.
Eric nodded silently before sighing "I guess I'll have to answer questions, right?"
"Mmhmm... Feels weird being a witness doesn't it?" Horatio said in a serious tone, returning to the discussion.
"That's the thing, I didn't see anything, I just heard it." Eric said in a professional tone, finally getting the rest of his senses to catch of with the fight or flight instinct of just a few minutes prior. "I don't think I'll be of any help."
"I suppose not..." Horatio said slyly before a pair of beeps interrupted him. "I've got another call, Eric, probably another witness to what you just told me..." He switched lines, essentially ending the conversation with Eric.
"That's more than likely the case..." Eric said slightly as he mulled things over. He sat in the silence for another few minutes before sirens interrupted his serene moment. He went back outside if only to observe Calleigh, his angel, his solace.
Calleigh arrived on the scene looking like she'd been woken up from a sound sleep but none the less ready. She noticed a single casing and bagged it before moving to the body. The wound was a through-and-through, definitely a fatal shot instantly. She saw a shining metal toward the stoop, or doorstep, of the home and followed it. She picked up the piece and noticed it was a severely damaged bullet, probably so done through the passage through the body of the victim. She bagged this as well before having the feeling she was being watched. She followed the feeling to the one watching her and recognized the stature. "Eric?"
Eric heard his name on the wind, Calleigh had spoken it. "Calleigh" He called back before she nodded at him and returned to her work. There was always work in their way...
Tertiary A/N: I promised exposition and I deliver. A much longer (comparatively speaking) chapter than I am used to writing. Please forgive the shorter ones as this is still in its infancy as a plot. However I do plan to have Eric ask Calleigh to hang out with him shortly, just not next chapter. Next Chapter: Calleigh and Eric reflect on chance.