Miami. Present day:
"How did it go?" Calleigh asked quietly as she watched Horatio pull himself wearily into the passenger seat and buckle his seatbelt.
"Fine," he mumbled evasively as he avoided looking at her.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Can we just go home, please?"
She felt slightly hurt that he would not divulge the details of his visit with the psychologist but took strength from the fact that he had actually stayed with the specialist for nearly an hour. She'd had visions of him leaving the building within five minutes of entering it.
He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the headrest, listening as the sounds of rush hour traffic passed by their vehicle. Perhaps the shrink was right; maybe he would never get past this until he admitted that he was a victim.
No, he thought to himself, it's your job to protect victims, not be one yourself.
He had always viewed himself as a protector of the weak and needy, a protector of victims who were unable to stand up for themselves. He needed to be strong; admitting he was a victim would mean that he was weak too.
It felt emasculating to think that he had been drawing strength from a woman, especially one that he had such deep and complex feelings for. Calleigh Duquesne was no shy and retiring wallflower and perhaps had more guts than most men he'd met in his life yet the small voice in the back of his head refused to let him believe that the attention she had lavished on him since his rescue was nothing more than a passing phase.
"Come on, let's go in," she said as she pulled the Hummer up in her driveway.
He followed her, like the meek sheep he had become.
He felt sick as he left the crime lab and made his way slowly to his car. Since joining Horatio's team he had never felt this low, not even when his mentor had to fire him for breaching department policy.
He'd caught the withering look that Eric had given him as their paths crossed a few moments earlier, knowing that the Cuban had little faith that he would protect Horatio in the same way that the Lieutenant had protected him several times before.
A meeting with the feisty IAB officer was the last thing he needed after the harrowing incident earlier in the day. His interview had been the longest two hours of his life as Sargent Craig bombarded him with endless questions about his colleagues.
He'd answered them as best he could, conscious of the need not to give her any rope with which to hang his teammates, but the longer she questioned him the more he found his head spinning as she began to pick holes in his answers, gleaning the kind of truth that she wanted to hear from him.
He needed to get away from the lab and the events of the day; he climbed in his car and sped away to a place that he had promised he would never visit again. He needed to release the tension the best way he knew how, by gambling.
By showering he had hoped to wash away the day's events, but as he stood under the steaming water he found himself replaying that fateful standoff. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the vision of his own hand shaking as he held his gun and found himself unable to fire off a shot.
After pulling on a pair of jeans he debated whether or not to wear a t-shirt, it was another swelteringly hot evening in Miami, even after the sun had gone down the heavy humidity remained.
Pulling on a t-shirt would make his scars visible and he hated the thought of Calleigh seeing him more marked and broken than he already was. He knew he was making a poor effort of hiding the emotional wounds and decided that it would be better for both of them if they were not reminded of the visible marks he bore every day.
He could hear her soft Southern voice calling him from the bottom of the stairs and heard the concern held within.
"Horatio, could you come down here please. I need your help."
His concern for her overrode his sense of shame at his own appearance as he quietly padded down the stairs, frowning as he saw the anguish clearly written on her face.
He placed a gentle hand on her arm.
"What is it, Sweetheart?"
"Moses," she said as she pointed towards the sliding door. "He won't come in...he's hurt."
Forgetting his own problems, he made his way over to the glass-paned door and opened it slowly, regarding the feline creature sadly.
It was clear that the cat had been in some kind of fight as it sat bedraggled before him, one paw held off the ground and blood visible on his nose and face. It mewed pathetically at him as he cocked his head to one side.
"What have you done, boy?" he asked the cat quietly as he reached out to him.
Moses cocked his head in an imitation of his owner as he hobbled forward a few paces and allowed his master to pick him up.
He wrapped the injured animal securely in his arms as he brought him inside the house and placed him on the kitchen table, checking him over for any other injuries that were less visible.
"Calleigh, could you get your kit from the car?" he asked as he kept his eyes on the cat.
"Sure," she replied, feeling slightly jealous that Moses was reacting so placidly to Horatio, when she had tried to pick him up all he had done was hiss and raise his front paws at her, clearly not wanting to be touched.
It was a heart-warming scene to return to as she found Horatio checking over the cat over with such a tender touch, treating him as if he were made of some precious and rare material.
She handed him the torch when asked and then stood back a few paces to watch him work.
"I'm just going to shine this light on you, Moses. I need to see where you're hurt, I need you to stay still, can you do that for me, boy?"
The cat cocked its head this way and that, as if deciding on whether to grant the human permission to touch him. He gave a mew of approval and stayed still as his owner ran his hands gently over his body.
"Good man," Horatio whispered encouragingly as the cat acquiesced to his commands.
"It looks as though it's just his paw and face, could you get me a bowl of warm water and a cloth, Calleigh?" he asked as he gave her an encouraging smile.
The cat seemed to be putty in his hands as she watched Horatio set about cleaning and bandaging the wound on Moses' front paw and then cleaning the cut on his face which was bad enough to probably leave a scar.
"There you go boy, all done," he said as he finished securing the bandage on Moses' leg, giving him a rub behind his ears.
"What you did, Horatio," she began, pointing at the cat that was lying on the kitchen table, regarding its injured paw intently, "That was amazing."
He shrugged his shoulders as he started tidying items from the table.
"It was nothing special."
"Horatio, he would even let me get near him. But you, he just seemed to trust you and know that you weren't going to hurt him. That's a gift, you know."
He gave her a small smile and a humourless laugh.
"Yes, Horatio Caine: Protector of defenceless animals," he muttered bitterly before adding, "Just a shame I can't protect myself or my colleagues."
"Why are you being so hard on yourself?" she asked as she felt her temper rising.
Flashback. Miami 8 weeks ago:
He had an unexpected surprise when he woke that morning, turning his head slightly he saw the slumbering form of his beautiful Southern belle beside him. He felt the pang of guilt as he watched her sleep, a deep frown marring her otherwise stunning visage.
He didn't want to disturb her but unfortunately his bladder had other ideas.
"Calleigh," he croaked as he tried to shift his battered body into a less uncomfortable position.
He was rewarded with a guttural moan from her as her eyes flickered open.
"You ok?" she asked sleepily.
He felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment as he inclined his head towards the en-suite bathroom as best as his injured form would allow.
"I…uh…." He stuttered.
She seemed to instantly understand what he needed and dragged herself from the comfy confines of her duvet and reached out a hand to help Horatio from the bed, steadying him as he stumbled into an upright position.
"I'm sorry," he muttered as they shuffled towards the bathroom, "You shouldn't have to do this."
"It's fine; you'd do the same for me, right?"
He sighed deeply.
"That's not the point; you shouldn't have to do it for me."
Perhaps it was the restless night that had shortened her temper but she couldn't help but snap at him and his self-pitying behaviour.
"What makes you think that you're so special that you can't accept help from the people who care about you?"
He flinched at her harsh tone before disengaging himself from her, shutting the bathroom door behind him.
"I can manage from here," he responded stiffly.
She sat on the bed, feeling awful for speaking to him like that. She stood up as she heard the door open again, coming face to face with a glaring Horatio.
Neither spoke as she helped him silently back to the bed, pulling the covers up to his chest before his uninjured hand reached out and took hers weakly.
"I'm not a child," he growled as their eyes met.
"Then stop acting like one," she retorted as she moved his hand and continued what she was doing.
Going to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and Horatio's medications had given her some much-needed space away from him. She had hoped that his discharge from the hospital would be a positive step forwards for him but a dark cloud of misery and depression had once more settled over him.
It was unreasonable to expect him to behave as if nothing had happened but his negative attitude was verging on becoming self-indulgent. What had happened to him was terrible, something that nobody could argue with, but sooner or later he needed to focus some of that energy into getting back on his feet.
She found him much the same way as she had left him, propped up in bed with a multitude of pillows, a scowl tarnishing his handsome face.
"I've brought you breakfast," she declared as she placed the tray on his lap.
"I'm not hungry," he muttered as he closed his eyes.
"Tough."
The firm response was enough to shock him into opening his eyes.
"You need to eat before you can take your pain meds. I made you eggs and bacon. Eat it."
She glared at him until he finally gave in, prodding at the food with a fork.
She sat beside him until he had cleared the plate before handing him several pills and a glass of water to wash them down with. He nodded gratefully as she took the tray away and handed him a mug of strong black coffee.
"Calleigh…I'm sorry," he said quietly as he drained the last vestiges of his coffee.
"It's forgotten," she responded as she gave him a warm smile.
"Let's say no more about it. But I don't want any more grumbling or grousing from you about accepting help, you hear me?"
Her words were firm but her tone was soothing as she spoke, he felt the remnants of his bitterness and anger drain away when he gazed at her beautiful face.
"Yes, ma'am."
Both of them smiled as their eyes met.
Present day. Miami:
"I'm sorry, Calleigh. Forgive an old fool?"
His rueful smile ate away at the frustration that had built within her.
She closed the distance between them and embraced him tightly.
"Always."
She was right, yet he couldn't find it within him to forgive himself for his past transgressions, but with Calleigh's forgiveness perhaps it was a start.
"I want you to stop beating yourself up about this," she whispered as she kissed his cheek tenderly.
He was powerless against her; he would try his best to do anything she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied even though he had no idea how he would be able to keep his word.