Title: In The Line of Fire

Timeline: 7x25 "Seeing Red"

Author: Quitethefangirl

Genre: Angst/Crime

Summary: Eric is missing and on top of that the team is facing another battle and Stetler is behind the gun. As the team' searches for Eric and they put under administrative review by IAB.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author Note: Long time no update right? Been crazy busy but here we are. So much has happens since my last update, I have this creep guy stalking me at school, he kissed my hand (I had a major OCD moment and I didn't have any Purrell with me. I basically gave myself a 1st degree burn washing that kiss off) I got screwed by my college and that is a long story that I will not tell because it would be longer than this chapter. I need glasses and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but the eye doctor was the tiny little old man who looked like he was a pixar character and hilariously enough his name is Micheal Micheal. I'm a have an secret identity who? That I can't tell you because it's a secret, but I'm kind of in a Justice League Type group and as weird as it sounds it's true. I like twitter and "Party in the USA" by Hannah Montana and I hate myself for it. Though I absolutely loathed the last season with a passion at how it started so great and end so lame, I've decided to watch Ugly Betty this season solely because Adam Rodriguez is going to be in it and heart him. While we are on the subject of Adam there is this boy who goes to my school, who looks like he could be his cousin or something (HOW ARE YOU DOING? :) :) :) Anyways I'm enjoying the new season of CSI: Miami, could be better but I'll taking what I can get. I must say I hate Jesse Cardoza with a burning passion, there are so many should be EC scenes with him in it instead of Eric. With Eric leaving (I HATE YOU CBS) and the relationship of the hiphuggers potentially ending (I have my finger cross they stay together) Jesse scares me. If they make him and Calleigh an (pain me to say it) "item" I will never watch the show again and I kill the writers and Jerry Bruckheimer (Joking). Anywhooser I'm being stupid, I know no one reads the Author notes anyway so why do I write them?

Chapter 7

Makes No Sense

Calleigh left the lab filled with hope, but nothing could prepare her for the feeling that would overtake her when she arrived home. Two of her five senses screamed Eric as soon as she opened the door. The smell his cologne he ritualistically 'bathed' in every morning, filled her nose as she entered the house. She always teased him about how it smelled too sweet for cologne and swear it was perfume, but she loved the way he smelled and how his scent only complemented hers.

She saw evidence of Eric all over the living room. On the couch she found a scattered mess of Eric's clothes and an overflowing basket with more on the floor. He'd promised to fold them after work, three days ago. On the coffee table were a half eaten breakfast plate and a cup of Coffee Cubano he hadn't cleaned from that morning. Many other random items of Eric's decorated the floor and shelves.

Calleigh, who was somewhat a perfectionist and clean freak normally kept her house spotless. There was actually more evidence of Eric living there than she herself. She called him a slob, but he claimed there was a method to his madness; he had a philosophy that 'if a house is a home, it's ok for it to look like someone lived there.' He was right; he made her house feel much more homely than it ever had.

What she missed the most was his touch, his voice, his taste, his presence. She collapsed in the doorway, drowning in her own despair once more. She was unable to make it any further into the house, as Eric's absence was too much for her to bear. She sat there alone, upset. Crying, she put her hands up to her face, unsure where to go or who to turn to.

A little girl stood staring at Calleigh. Walking over, the girl tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me Mrs. Officer Delko, is Mr. Officer Delko home? Do you remember me? Mr. Officer Delko said he'd help me fix my bicycle today."

Calleigh looked up at the little girl, unsure where she came from or who she was. She could be one of her neighbors, but between work and life she never really took the time to officially meet any of them. She'd only seen them in passing, offering a 'hello' as she headed to work, but that was the extent of it. She only had a friendly passerby relationship, nothing personal. Calleigh looked at the girl unsure what to say to the child beaming at her; totally oblivious to her distraught appearance.

The girl reminded Calleigh of herself as a child, at about five or six, with curly blonde hair and beautiful green eyes. She held a bike with a bent front wheel and had cuts and bruises on her arms and legs, which made Calleigh remember something Eric mentioned the other day. On his way home the other day, he saw her neighbor's little girl trying to teach herself to ride a two-wheeler when she almost crashed to the ground. He'd reached her just time to save her before she tasted the cement. He asked where her parents were and why she didn't ask them to teach her to ride a bike, but she told him that her parents were too busy working to teach her and her nanny was cooking dinner. Eric then spent the evening teaching her to ride.

There were some bumps and bruises on the way but finally they succeeded. They were finishing up when Calleigh pulled in the driveway. Seeing Eric and the little girl she smiled, knowing she had picked the right one. For a second she imagined what it would be like to marry Eric and have children with him. Though all her life she thought that it wasn't for her, it was in that moment that she realized it was something she greatly desired, especially with Eric.

Since he had started to come over, her neighbors would wave at her and call her by name. Some even started conversions with her, asking about work or Eric; often mentioning how great he was. In his neighborhood everyone knows everyone. Due to his great sense of family and community, and always wanting to familiarize himself with his surroundings, he knew more of Calleigh's neighbors than she did.

"Yeah, I remember you." Calleigh wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at the girl. "Um Mr. Delko is not home right now, I'm sorry." She couldn't hide the sadness in her voice. The child looked at her worried and took a seat next to her, grabbing Calleigh's hand.

"Are you ok, Mrs. Officer Delko?" She said softly. The child felt her distress and was trying to comfort her. Calleigh smiled weakly. The little girl kept calling her Mrs. Officer Delko. She obviously thought Calleigh and Eric were married, and Calleigh didn't know whether correct the girl or not. She liked the way it sounded, but hearing his name with hers just wasn't right; it tore her apart and made her feel even more guilty. Ignoring the question Calleigh turned to her.

"It's Ms. Calleigh Duquesne, ok? Eric and I um-uh are friends. You can call me Calleigh, ok?" She sweetly brightened her smile at the girl, who was looking so innocent and cute.

"Um ok, well my name is Molly DuPont." The girl said proudly point at herself. "You can call me Molly, why are you sad?" Molly asked; her face set in deep concern. Calleigh didn't know how to answer her. Molly was persistent with her questioning and wanted to cheer Calleigh up. Calleigh looked away, formulating the words to say to the girl. She didn't want to lie. She hated when people did that to her when she was a child.

"Eric got lost and I miss him." It was the truth, plain and simple. Molly's eyes widened as she threw herself into the CSI's arms.

"I missed him, we have to find him." She started to cry. Calleigh sat shocked at Molly's reaction; she hadn't intended to upset the child. As she recovered, she slowly wrapped her arms around Molly. As soon as she did the child pulled away and faced her.

"But we'll find him Ms. Officer Calleigh. I'm sure of it, because if we don't who will fix my bike?"

"Yeah." Calleigh laughed "We will."

Before another word could be spoken Molly's nanny started frantically calling her name. "MOLLY, MOLLY?" She yelled as she ran across Molly's front lawn.

Calleigh stood up and walked Molly over to her frantic nanny, handing her to the woman. "I'm so sorry if she bothered you at all, I was just so busy cooking. I didn't notice she slipped out the house." The nanny apologized.

"It's ok really, she's a sweet child." Calleigh smiled.

"Thanks." The nanny scooped Molly into her arms, fussing at her in Spanish as they walked into the house.

"Bye, Ms. Officer Calleigh." Molly waved at her as she was being carried away.

Calleigh walked back to her house taking her place on the porch, thinking. All her life she strived to be the best she could be and she was; she was the best ballistic expert Miami-Dade county had seen. She was determined not to walk in the footsteps of her parents, but she was very much like them. Though alcohol was not her chosen addiction, her work was.

Her work was her life. She had no friends outside of work, no real life outside of work, even the men she dated she met at work or through work; she had no real family she could count on. Every aspect of her life revolved around her work. She neglected making friends because she was always thinking about the next case even after she was off the clock, every conversion would always wind up being about work.

Now she sat on a porch, alone, in front of a house that she couldn't bear to enter and with no one to turn to, because she had pushed everyone away, so absorbed in her own problems and taking pity on herself.

She thought she deserved it. The way she treated others, to her made no sense why they still loved her. She sat on the porch for an hour in misery before finally entering the house; she had to get some rest if she going to make it to work on time in the morning. Even in all the sorrow her mind was still on work, the only thing in life she could depend on.

Before she went inside, she promised herself that she would change. When things got back to normal and Eric was found she would change. She'd meet the neighbors, have friends outside of work and even have dinner parties, get married to Eric, if he would have her, and start a family of her own. She would unlock herself from her own personal prison and live. She promised herself she would change. Entering the house, she looked towards the future. After taking a shower, she went to the guest room and straight to bed, falling asleep instantly.

The more Ryan processed the car, the more confused he became. After shooting a couple of pictures of the holes, he proceeded to bag and tag the bullets. First pulling Calleigh's bullet out of the front seat and placing it in an evidence bag and labeling it, he then proceeded to retrieve the bullet from the back seat.

Inserting a long pair of tweezers into the seat cushion and reaching as far in as possible, he could only reach the tip of what he thought was the bullet. After a few moments of trying he resolved that it was necessary to retrieve the bullet by other means. He walked to the front of the car and popped the trunk. He whistled as he made to the trunk, but the tone died on his lips when he saw the contents.

It caught him off guard completely. He was expecting the trunk to be empty with the minor exception of the random stuff a normal guy kept in his trunk, but this, this was—he was at a loss for words. Ryan looked into the trunk, blinking excessively from disbelief. He prayed that his eyes were fooling him because Eric's trunk was filled with guns, guns and more guns.

The sound of the tweezers hitting the ground broke him from his daze. Putting his hand to his head in shock, he let out a huge sigh. Up until now, though there were a few moments of doubt, he truly thought Eric was innocent. However he was having a change of heart, well it was more a rush of confusion, he didn't know what to believe.

Eric had been different recently. Though the mob was hunting him down over the last few months he'd been happy. He had everything going for him, so why would he be working with the Russian? Was the threat of the mob just a front for Eric? An excuse he used to get closer to the mob's dealing without setting off any red flags? Putting the lives of the rest of the team at risk?

He couldn't breathe. The thought that one of his co-workers, his friend, was a criminal, a traitor was too much for him to bear. He stumbled over to a nearby work station and sat down. After a few breathless seconds his brain recognized its need for oxygen and remembered how to intake the air once more. With his head still in his hands he took in several deep, laboured breaths.

His mind was working on overload. Closing his eyes, he ran his hand down his face, before balling his hand into a fist and resting it on the bridge of his nose. "Eric, what have you gotten yourself into?" He said aloud knowing the only person who could answer was still missing. In frustration he swiped his arm across the workstation, sending several objects crashing to the floor. He hated himself for believing his friend Eric was guilty, but he couldn't fight the feeling.

He'd abandoned processing the car for the time being. He couldn't bring himself to look any further for fear of what he might find. He sat, pondering what his next steps should be. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Horatio's number. The phone rang twice before the senior CSI answered.

"Ryan." His voice was raspier than normal, sounding broken, wary and very un-Horatio.

Ryan closed his eyes and pinching his left brow with his thumb and first finger. He started to pace the room. With his head slightly bent down, he sighed heavily into the phone before speaking. "Horatio, um" he didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he decided to be as straightforward as possible. "I found- I found guns in Delko's trunk. The incriminating evidence in this car alone is enough to-- it has me-- has me um questioning the likeliness of Delko coming out of this clean. His chances are slim, very slim. I-I don't know what to think or believe right now. HE HAD GUNS; GUNS FROM THE ARMORY IN HIS TRUNK, H." He yelled the last part in frustration. Stopping his pacing, he let out a few quick pants into the phone.

Horatio hesitated before he spoke, sighing. "Ryan?" He said in a hushed voice. He was on the move from what Ryan could hear; it sounded as if he was distancing himself from people around him. Ryan didn't answer. "Ryan?" He said again, even quieter than the first time. "I need you to calm down, son."

"Ok Ok, H. I just don't know--" He stopped mid sentence, cupping his hand over his mouth and balling it up in a fist over it.

"I need you to—I need you to think about what you're saying? Do you actually believe that Eric is working for the mob?" There was a silence over the phone before he continued, "I need you to look at this not from a personal perspective, but professionally. Could Eric be dirty, what does the evidence say?"

Ryan could hear the pain in Horatio's voice as he spoke the last words. He hated that he had to do this to Eric. The younger man wasn't just a subordinate to him, he was one of his closest friends and he felt like a brother. They'd been through a lot with together and it tore him a part to have to betray him like this. Ryan could hear him weakening with every word.

"I-I didn't know, H. My professional opinion with all this evidence mounted against him said 'yes, he's guilty,' but the fact that I know him personally, I know Eric would never do such a thing. This is Eric we're talking about; he's as loyal as they come. There's no way he's a traitor. He has so much going for him. He wouldn't- he wouldn't do this, he wouldn't." Ryan said, throwing his earlier doubt to the wind. "Who's to say someone's not painting the portrait they want us to see to disguise the true picture?" Ryan added. He knew how well set-ups could be orchestrated.

"Well, I'm glad we see eye to eye." Horatio replied, relieved Ryan still some faith in Eric, when almost everyone else's seem to be dwindling. "Finish processing the car. We still need to prove our theory with evidence." With that Horatio ended the call.

After Ryan collected himself, he proceeded to collect the guns for the trunk of the car. If Eric was in his position he'd like to think the Cuban would give him the benefit of the doubt. That was what he planned to do, help Eric maintain his innocence. He wasn't going to be a let down again; he was going to redeem himself.

He worked endlessly, processing every single weapon thoroughly. A few hours later he had fingerprinted, bagged and tagged every single one of the 64 weapons that were in the trunk. When it was completely empty, Ryan retrieved his tweezers once more. Removing the half exposed bullet from the seat now proved to be an easier task.

He twisted the projectile in the air examining it, only to learn it wasn't a bullet at all. He didn't need Calleigh to tell him that it was some kind of dart or tranquilizer of some kind, confusing him more, "Why would the second shooter be using tranks?" He asked himself aloud. He couldn't find an answer. Picking up his phone, he dialed Horatio once more.

"H, you're never going to believe this." He said into the phone.

I'll try to update soon but I'm a little blocked at the moment, I'm looking to be re-inspired. Reviews help the process greatly- Quitethefangirl