A/N: Once again, I delayed because of work. Sorry again. Ah well, I will try to get a good chapter in to make up for it.

Warning: Mm, OOC, Violence recounting, and short court questioning that seems incomplete and off to me and I'm the one that wrote it. Also, I cannot- for the life of me- spell Calleigh's last name. Sorry.

Chapter 5: Como se Hacen Preguntas ('As Questions are Asked')

~A few days later~

Eric sighed heavily as he got dressed in his 'court clothes', which consisted basically of nice slacks, a button up shirt, and a tie. His mind was racing, only a few questions could be asked of him based on what he had seen, or rather hadn't seen that night. It was more like he had heard and his instinct just ran on high-octane. He couldn't help it; all in all he was a cop. There was no such thing as an ex-cop. Former perhaps but never an ex- it didn't seem possible to leave that life behind, even for the sake of protecting those closest to him. Those that he loved so much he'd even give his own life for theirs a thousand times over. He wouldn't ever admit how much he truly loved Calleigh, he couldn't to her. Perhaps that was why leaving her was so hard, and yet so needed. If anyone were to use his most kept and precious secret… He didn't even want to think about it at the moment, ever really. He wouldn't ever desire that kind of thing to happen to anyone. "I have to mentally prepare for any question. I want to be ready for anything they throw my way…" He muttered to himself as he rubbed his temples. He was exhausted from the late night, early morning combo that he'd been pulling due to his insomnia the last few weeks. He was not one to take any medication for it and he wouldn't ask for it anyway. He grumbled slightly and left his house silently, leaving earlier than necessary just in case. After all, he knew this city often held the unexpected delay.

Meanwhile, Calleigh was also preparing, getting ready for the trial, she had to testify based on the evidence for what seemed like the millionth time in her lifetime as a criminologist. It was possible that it was, in all actuality, close to that number at the moment. She wasn't able to count the times but she figured that the court dates were too numerous to count in any measurable number. Or if she had enough time to actually start counting it. She was too much on her hands to have enough time to count random cases that were based on her own evidence, her own analysis. The bullets were identical and it all pointed to the man that was now in custody and headed to the courthouse as she was. She allowed herself to primp her hair up again and spray it with some hairspray and head out of the door, to her car. She left early, as she always did. She believed in being earlier then she was expected, it was her nature. Most people expected her to be the opposite, more lax- more 'southern' as her still present soft accent that revealed her true origin. She allowed a soft sigh to escape her lips and she drove out of her driveway. Headed out of the area at a normal speed, she always obeyed the speed limit as much as possible, even when on a case. She was a perfectionist in such a way. She always had been.

The court room was silent, it was ordered to be so. No press was allowed within the hallowed ground, the press would ruin the concentration of the witnesses and the jury. It would skew the justice and the evidence would be moot. The witnesses had been prepped and subpoenaed to appear here and were such. All prepared mentally and physically for the task at hand. Each of them would be called in turn and the evidence would favor the truth. They hoped so, anyway.

Each question seemed to be answered in turn, a few seconds of thought for ones that were uncertain but other than that it was swift as a game of checkers. But forensics were science, much more like chess- intellectual and exact. The witness that was now on the stage, or rather stand, knew that all too well. Perhaps because he was once in that life- that eerily familiar feeling of the 'end' coming nigh brushed his thoughts once again- he recounted as he testified- and the feeling made him check himself for the tale-tale signs of injury. "I've been shot before and I've shot a gun before so I know that sound quite well. Instinct kicked in once I found out that my own home was not the target." He repeated to the jury "I ran outside to see what had been the intended target and to offer assistance if needed." He said, concluding his answer to the question asked him.

"After 'rushing outside', Mr. Delco, what was the first thing you did…" The attorney questioned, pacing slightly in front of the stand.

"I checked the area and saw my neighbor on the ground after which I ran over and checked him for vital signs, only to see that the wound was right where the heart would be and that he'd lost a lot of blood. It would have been moot to attempt to revive him so I called the Crime Lab instead, knowing that I still had that number on speed dial." Eric replied, fingering his pocket that normally kept his phone but was empty due to the regulation to keep it out of the court room, lest the ringing disturb the court.

"And did you see any spent casings?" The attorney quipped, the movement ceasing to look at Eric in the eye, to judge his truthfulness.

"It was midnight; all I saw was the glint of blood because of the street-lamp. Metal was not visible in such light on first glance." Eric answered, looking right back in those eyes that stared him down "and if there was any to be found, Calleigh would have found them in their original location because I do not tamper with evidence." He said, answering an unasked question about something in the past that didn't need unburying, both literally and figuratively. He sighed as the answer came unrequested "Nor would I ever."

"I did not ask anything to that effect. If you have a guilty conscious that is your own whim, not mine…" The consol replied smugly, returning to his pacing. "I have no further questions…"

Eric was dismissed, followed by a few more neighbors and close proximity witnesses, each asked similar questions to see if their stories matched or pointed directly at the individual seated in the defense's stand. He himself also was called, but only one or two questions of any true relevance were answered. Calleigh was the last called.

"Alright, so as I said, I was called on the scene by Eric Delko- indirectly. He called Horatio who then called me to go down there and collect ballistics and casings, if any, that I could find." Calleigh said, her legs crossing slightly in the chair and revealing a long skirt that nearly reached her ankles. "I photographed all the visible evidence, which given the lighting was little other than the glint of metallic objects, the body, and the blood. If it were brighter I would have had a better idea of where things were but I was not hindered by any means." She said strongly, watching the consoler pace again, making her follow him with her eyes.

"So the lack of light, or street-lamp light was not enough to damage any process of gathering evidence…"

"Correct…" Calleigh answered, her eyes holding truth and the green-gray shifting again because of the angle of light. She was infamous for those eyes but that wasn't why she was here. Or rather it was what those eyes saw, the bullets and their unique striations, that led her to this position so many times thus far. She always seemed to be the one trusted the one that never had her loyalty or honor questioned. Perhaps it was because the question was never needed, never warranted. Everyone else- Eric, Ryan, even Horatio himself a time or two- had been questioned on their integrity and honesty but never Calleigh. It seemed that the accent did more than identify her; it made her more believable- more 'honest' knowing that she was never ashamed, never closed about who she was. Or perhaps because she'd proven herself so many times that no one dared to question how she came to get to where she was. She was a rare flower, she knew that many times over. But she wasn't sure now if she wanted to be rare.

"Alright, that's all the questions I have. You are dismissed." The attorney said, allowing Calleigh off the uncomfortable chair that seemed to face everyone. Not that she feared public anything, she faced them every day.

After the jury was released to deliberate, Calleigh and Eric stayed behind. Eric frowned slightly "Sometimes I wish the life didn't haunt me…" He said, the rare expression gracing his face more so than before.

"It doesn't have to…" Calleigh said simply, walking closer to him "you don't have to fear everything… You have us…"

"Well, that's the thing. Every night I lie awake with thoughts of someone coming after you, and when I finally fall asleep I'm awoken by nightmares of death. It's not something that I consciously desire but the fear is there. Sometimes I wish for one night I don't have to worry." Eric said, immediately looking away in regret. "One night… Then I'd be content…"

"Hm? Is that a question to me or a prayer?" Calleigh said cheekily, brushing his shoulder with the tips of her knuckles. "Or both"

"A question. How about after this guy gets his justice we watch some movies and eat dinner and just… Be." Eric asked, his hand going to his shoulder in a protective motion "besides, you know I pray differently than the 'direct' approach…" He said, smirking at the southern belle.

"I know that quite well. Your… Religion… Has come up in conversation before." Calleigh quipped back, her hand going to her chin. "And movies sound… Nice…"

Secondary A/N: And that's how it begins… Now to write out the date. Not that I'm good with dates. I may just time skip at random intervals. I have no idea what to right for that.