"Shauna!" Eric knocked on her apartment door early in the morning, hoping she was out of bed but sure she wasn't. "Shauna! It's Eric!" He heard Frankie's big bark, heard the dog's nails clicking on the tile floor of the entryway as he patrolled the front of the apartment waiting for his mistress to appear. Eric tried again, banging on the door with his fist. "Shauna? Open up!"
Several long moments passed before he heard a sleepy female voice call off the Great Dane and turn the deadbolt. When she opened the door for him, Eric flashed her a smile that was part sympathy and part wicked enjoyment. "You're up."
Shauna yawned and gestured for him to come in. "I am now. Some crazy lunatic was banging on my door making all kinds of noise. Drove the dog nuts."
"You're the one that asked me to make sure you got up," he reminded her with a chuckle. "And I tried calling, but you didn't answer."
She trudged into the kitchen with Frankie close on her heals and Eric trailing behind. "Phone was in the living room," she told him, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't hear it."
Eric kissed her messy hair as he passed her on his way to grab Frankie's leash. "That's why I came over," he explained cheerfully. "So why don't you get your coffee going and I'll take the dog for his walk. We'll do a little male bonding."
"That sounds wonderful," she smiled gently. "Just keep a firm hold on the leash and distract him if you see any small animals—he likes to chase, even if it means dragging you along behind him."
"Got it." He took the leash down off its peg and headed back to the door, with Frankie now bouncing in excited circles. The CSI made the big dog sit while he clipped leash to collar, threw a wave at sleepy Shauna, and disappeared outside.
By the time they got back the smell of fresh coffee filled the apartment, complimented by the sound of scrambled eggs frying on the stove. Shauna, a bit more alert, chuckled when a confident Frankie trotted through the door leading a panting Eric. "Got your workout in for the day, didn't you?"
"I thought I was in good shape," he protested, unhooking the Dane and hanging the leash on its peg.
"Oh, you are," she teased, eyeing him with a playfully lecherous smile. Then, on a more serious note she added, "Young Mister Francis over there is into sprinting and darting—squirrels and frogs don't just sit still and let you catch them, you know. You're more of a long-distance endurance kind of guy, which is a whole different ball game."
Frankie dunked his face in his bowl of water, slopping the liquid around the kitchen floor in his exuberance, and Eric grinned, patting one of the dog's spotted flanks as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Most definitely. But we had a good time…and I see you're focused enough to cook, now."
Shauna shuffled the eggs in her pan, trying to keep them from sticking too much. "Yes." She turned her blue eyes on him and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks for getting me up."
Eric plopped down on one of the bar stools underneath the pass-through window and gulped down some of the water. "My pleasure," he winked.
"I bet." She finished with the eggs and dolled them out onto two plates, directed Frankie out of the kitchen and joining Eric at the pass-though. "But since you were kind enough to do me a favor, the least I can do is feed you before you go to work."
"Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you," he returned, trying to cover his hesitance with feigned nonchalance. "Are you busy this weekend?"
Chewing a forkful of scrambled eggs, Shauna ran through her mental date book. "Just the usual work schedule, I think. Why, what'd you have in mind?"
Staring at his plate, Eric frowned. "I, uh…I wanted to go to the cemetery." His dark eyes met her bright ones, and he took her hand. "But I don't want to go alone."
"You don't have to," she confirmed, squeezing his fingers.
His frown deepened and he shifted on the bar stool. "I feel guilty, though…y'know? I haven't been to Speedle's grave since the funeral. Part of me wants to go, to pay my respects, but part of me is…scared. I'm finally starting to deal with everything, and I don't want to end up the way I was before."
Laying down her fork, she covered his hand with both of hers, smiling gently when he reciprocated with his free one. "I don't think that's going to happen—you've grown a lot in the time we've known each other. You're stronger than you think you are, Eric, especially since you've learned to ask for help when you need it."
"So you'll go with me?"
It was her turn to hesitate, not out of unwillingness, but out of concern for her friend. "Are you sure you don't want to go with someone else?"
Eric was confused, and it showed on his face. "Why? You're always there for me, Shauna; I tell you things I don't tell anyone else. You've been such a big part of my, uh, 'recovery'…who else would I want to be with?"
"Well, maybe you'd be better off going with someone who knew him," she countered softly.
"If you don't want to go, just say so," he told her snatching back his hands, his old reactionary anger creeping in.
"That's not it," she tried again, stroking his shoulder. "I just thought that the first time you go to his grave you should be with someone you can mourn with, not in front of. If it means that much to you, though, of course I'll go."
He was irritated now, and couldn't stop himself from lashing out. "Don't act like there's a quid pro quo here," he growled, pulling away from her and rising from the stool. "I came to get you up this morning because you told me Frankie had an early vet appointment and you're not a morning person. Don't come with me to my dead friend's grave because you feel like you owe me for that. Or worse…because you feel sorry for me."
"Eric, come on," she tried, reaching for him again. "That's not what this is. Thank you for waking me up this morning…I really do appreciate that, but it has nothing to do with going to the cemetery with you. If you want me there I'll go."
He turned toward her, briefly catching the hurt in her eyes, but stormed on. "No, don't worry about it. I'll just go by myself." Breezing past a hopeful Great Dane, he swept out of the apartment and banged the door shut behind him.
ooo
Unfortunately, the switch that flipped Eric's mood so quickly did not reverse itself with the same swiftness, and his resentment followed him to the Lab. He growled and snapped his way though the workday, doing his job competently enough but leaving a trail of disgruntled and offended coworkers in his wake.
Calleigh had heard whispers and complaints about him all day from the other staff members, and late in the afternoon found a minute to look in on him. "Hey," she smiled pleasantly, strolling into the Fingerprint Lab.
He was hunched over a computer, glaring at the screen as thousands of prints flashed by in search of a match to his evidence. He glanced up at her when she approached, his expression relaxing slightly. "Hey."
"Whatchya workin' on?" she asked, circling the table and eyeing the computer screen over his shoulder.
"The Callahan case," he replied brusquely.
"Looks like you've got a nice print there," she observed. "Shouldn't be too much trouble to match it to something."
Eric pressed his lips together and frowned deeply. "You'd think so. But this is the third database I've searched—" He banged his fist on the table when the computer beeped a "no match found" message at him. "—and I've got nothing!"
Like Shauna before her, Calleigh laid a hand on Eric's shoulder to soothe him. "Well, you'll just have to keep looking," she reminded him gently. The only response she received was a heavy sigh and a stony silence. "Hey," she said again, lowering her voice and squeezing his shoulder, "are you okay?"
His reaction was the same as that morning's. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he demanded, rising from his stool and shrugging away from her.
"Because you seem to be awfully upset over some pretty small stuff today," Calleigh told him, concern competing with the edge creeping into her voice.
"This case is not small stuff!" Eric retorted quickly. "Somebody was murdered, and I have to find out who this fingerprint belonged to so the person responsible doesn't get away with it."
She waited a beat before continuing, choosing her words carefully. "I wasn't referring to the case, Eric. Of course that's important, but you've been walking around all day like you've got a burr under your saddle. Valera told me you practically took her head off in the DNA lab earlier."
"So you're gossiping about me now?"
She noted his raised eyebrow, the flash in his brown eyes, the willful set of his mouth, and knew he was determined to be angry. But she tried one more time. "Something's obviously bothering you today. Do you want to talk about it?"
"If I wanted to talk I'd call my shrink," he spat out, brushing past her on his way out the door.
"Maybe you should," she said pointedly.
Her statement stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to face her, index finger stabbing the air accusingly. "You think you know me…"
"I used to," she told him flatly. "But sometimes you're someone else, Eric. I know how difficult this last year has been, after losing Speedle, but you can't treat people like they don't matter, like you can just throw them away when you're done with them." Her voice rose with emotion, even as she tried to hold herself in check. "You don't see me doing that, or Horatio, or anyone else who knew Tim."
"Don't—"
She cut him off. "You weren't the only one who lost a friend that day, so don't walk around like you're the one person in the world grieving." Her green eyes drilled his face, daring him to deny her statement.
He didn't, of course, but felt his spirits sink even lower when she strode briskly past him and out of the Fingerprint Lab, her head held as if to defy him and his anger.
ooo
That night Eric lay in his bed, eyes roaming the ceiling, begging sleep to come to his chaotic brain and save him from the images and sounds of his day. He saw the hurt written all over Calleigh's face, despite her best efforts to mask it, when she walked out of the Print Lab. He heard the disbelief in Shauna's voice when he'd lashed out at her. Bitterness bubbled up inside him, directed at both women and their dismissal of his feelings.
Just as he had dismissed theirs.