He grabbed his shirt from the table roughly, fumbling to do the buttons up in his haste to catch up with Calleigh, desperate to make her see that she'd got it all wrong, horribly wrong.

"Where are you going?" Lori asked as she watched him tuck his shirt back into his pants.

"You need to leave," he told her without looking up.

"Who was that?"

"It doesn't matter who it was, you need to leave. I have to go," he pointed towards the hallway as he patted his pockets, checking for his keys to Calleigh's house.

She felt disappointment stab at her heart at the harsh way he dismissed her questions, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen she scribbled something down and passed it to him. "I'm staying at the Hyperion. Call me, John…we need to talk."

He took the proffered piece of paper with a nod and watched her leave, the gentleman in him refusing to leave until she was safely in her rental car and back on the road. He made his way to his own car with no idea how he would make things right with Calleigh.

He had been tempted to knock when he arrived at her front door, yet he knew it would be pointless, she would refuse to answer the door to him based on what she'd just witnessed. He needed the chance to explain it to her, that he had done nothing wrong….that his heart still belonged to her.

Opening the door quietly, he half expected her to jump out at him brandishing a weapon of some kind. The house was hauntingly quiet as he walked through the hallway and popped his head into the kitchen, surprised to find her sitting at the table, nursing a large glass of red wine.

"Calleigh…..sweetheart…."

"Don't," she ground out between her teeth as she refused to look at him.

"Let me explain….."

She took a large gulp of wine before answering. "It's ok, I get it. This is how you get back at me for not being honest with you last night."

"Calleigh, you've got it wrong….."

She looked at him this time; he felt a piece of his heart shatter as he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. "You picked up the first whore you saw and took her back to your place for a quick fumble. I guess there's no stopping you now that you're back on the horse."

She wanted to take the words back as soon as she had said them, they were callous and beyond cruel. It was such a low blow, to use his recent lack of sexual functioning against him in such a way. But she was hurt by what she saw, no matter how innocent it might have seemed. Horatio was hers, no one else's.

He felt the breath leave his body, momentarily numbed by her savage remarks. "You've got it wrong," he repeated, much quieter this time as he let out a deep sigh.

"So your shirt accidentally came off and she tripped and fell on you did she?" She couldn't help herself; the stress of the last few days combined with the wine had served to make her bolder than she had ever been.

"I know her, Calleigh…." He tried to explain.

"Oh, good. Nice to know that you don't take your clothes off for just anyone," she retorted sarcastically.

He made is way over to her quickly, grabbing her almost roughly as he felt his temper fraying. "Damn it, Calleigh. She was my wife!"

Flashback. New York 1991:

The first few days back at work always seemed to drag when you'd just spent a week relaxing in the sun on holiday. Landing back in New York felt like a shock to the system for both of them as the cooler temperatures and the noise and clamour of everyday city life hit them at full force.

It had been great to spend a week not worrying or caring about anyone except themselves and they had made the most of what the luxurious Mexican resort had to offer. She laughed as she remembered the way her husband had neglected to wear any sunscreen on the first day and had ended up getting a nasty case of sunburn, it was lucky that she had been on hand to rub in the cooling after-sun lotion on his sensitive skin afterwards. They had never been able to just leave things as an innocent touch here or there, it always seemed to turn into something much more passionate between the pair of them.

She admired how tanned her arms looked in her sleeveless top as she waited for him to return home, his shift had ended half an hour ago and he had promised that he would come straight home as he had each night this past week. A smirk crossed her face at how badly his fair skin reacted to the ferocious Mexican sun, John was definitely not a man who suited high temperatures, often burning easily and turning a deep shade of red if he stayed out in it too long. Perhaps it was his Irish genes that made him that way; still, it didn't make her love him any less.

Placing her glass of wine down, she turned her head as she saw the front door open, her weary husband standing the other side of it as he grinned at her like a fool.

"Hi, honey. I'm home," he drawled as he threw his suit jacket on the back of a chair and sauntered over to his lovely lady wife, planting an amorous kiss on her lips, licking the wine off of his own as he broke the contact between them.

"That was quick," she teased as she placed her hands flat against his chest and ran them up and down, feeling his muscle twitch beneath her expert touch.

"What can I say; I guess I've got a good reason to make it home early." He raised a playful eyebrow at her as he nuzzled at her neck.

"And what might that be?" she responded as she turned her head to the right, allowing him better access to the smooth skin of her neck as he nipped at it gently.

He stopped what he was doing for a moment and looked at her. "Dinner," he retorted as if it were the most obvious answer. "I think we should skip it and head straight for desert.

He lunged forwards to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom and was only stopped when she took a step back from him. He looked at her in confusion.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

He gave her a wolfish grin. "Not all I think about. What's for dinner?" he asked, knowing that his wife had shut him down….for now.

They had sat and ate a pleasant dinner but throughout the meal he got the impression that there was something that Lori wanted to say but couldn't. It was not a wise move to push her on it though, that would likely lead to an argument of epic proportions between them, the only plus side being the make-up sex afterwards. An angry Lori was always a delight to contend with in the bedroom.

Jesus, you do have sex on the brain!

After watching her down the last of her wine, he cleared the plates and took them into the small kitchen area of their apartment and began washing the pots and dishes that had accumulated there. Theirs was a relationship based on compromise and sharing, if Lori had gone to the effort of cooking it was only fair that he did his share by taking care of the clearing away.

She admired the way he moved around the kitchen, his hands covered in soap suds. How she wished he would take those hands out of the water and run them over her body. She could imagine the sensation of his damp hands and the small rivulets of warm water that would trickle down her as his touch set her skin on fire.

Now who's got sex on the brain!

It was with a sense of disappointment that she watched him finish up in the kitchen, towelling his hands dry as he leant back on the sofa. He pulled her close so that she was lying on top of him as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head.

It felt so safe to be wrapped in his strong arms, she reached a hand out and placed it on one of his forearms as she rubbed her thumb up and down, feeling the weight of the world drift away from her as they lay together, their chests rising and falling in time with each other. It was only by chance that her hand ran over something raw and sensitive that she noticed anything was wrong as he hissed and attempted to move his arm slightly.

Fear got the best of her as she sat up from his embrace and held his arm up to get a closer look, wincing as she saw the sore-looking graze on his left arm. "How did this happen?" she asked as she moved his arm this way and that in an effort to see it better.

He pulled his arm away and rolled the sleeve of his shirt down, waving off her concern. "It's nothing; just a little tumble when we were taking down a suspect. It's no biggie."

"Did you get yourself checked out?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's only a cut, I'm fine. I promise." He gave her one of his most endearing smiles as he tried to convince her that he was ok.

"I don't like it, Johnny," she replied with a frown, visibly relaxing as she lay back against the sofa. "It's too dangerous out there."

"Lori, I can look after myself. You don't need to worry about me."

"But I do, I worry every single day that Andy is going to come knocking on our door one day to tell me you've been killed. I couldn't bear it if that happened."

He wanted to promise her that nothing would happen, that he would be fine, but the truth was that he couldn't guarantee it. Each day that he went out on the streets he knew that he would be taking his life into his own hands. The streets of this city could be mean and cruel; he knew only too well that you could never know which day might be your last. All it took was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and your life would be over before you knew it.

It was his job though; he had chosen to do it so that others wouldn't have to. He chose to take those risks on a daily basis in order to protect the people he loved as well as the people of the city that he called home. Didn't Lori realise that he felt exactly the same way, each time she chose to go up against some crime don or shady hustler up in court?

She was hardly keeping herself out of harm's way when she deliberately antagonised the criminal underworld. She was a feisty ADA who was used to getting what she wanted, not caring if she pissed the wrong people off along the way. He worried every single day about her, sometimes to the detriment of his own safety on the job. Couldn't she see that this was the job that he had to do, that he was born to do?

"I think you should ask for a transfer…..Staten Island maybe."

"You've got to be kidding me," he replied incredulously. The only cops that worked Staten Island were the ones who were close to retirement age or had pissed off the brass is some major way. To take a transfer to the Island was no more than career suicide.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life in some cramped little apartment downtown; you think this is the ideal place to bring kids up in?"

"Well, it didn't do me any harm growing up in Queens," he responded as he felt his ire rising within him.

"You can do better, Johnny. You don't want to be a lowly detective all your life, do you?"

Her words hurt him deeply, he might not have come from the same Ivy League privileged background that she did but he had worked his ass off to get where he was. He'd grown up an only child to a single parent for most of his young life, paid his way through community college and then grasped every opportunity that came his way in the NYPD. He'd been one of the youngest officers to make it to detective in the Precinct's history and he'd done it by keeping his head down and working hard.

So what if she was some high-flying lawyer-type with an honours degree behind her, did she think that made her better than him?

He stood up quickly, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry that my working-class roots aren't good enough for you, Lori."

"That's not what I meant," she said as she tried to placate him, realising that she'd offended him inadvertently. "I just mean that I want you to have a career where you're not putting yourself in danger on a daily basis."

She walked towards him slowly, still not sure if he would push her away in anger. Emboldened by the fact that he had not moved she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest, hearing the steady thumping of his heart. "I love you, Johnny."

He refused to return her embrace for a number of moments, the two halves of his mind warring with each other as whether to accept her apology or storm off in a rage. The former won out in the end as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. "I know you do."

Miami. Present day:

"That was Laura?" Calleigh asked as she looked up into the haunted blue eyes of her lover.

He nodded his head as he looked down at her. "Yes, it was."

"What's she doing here?"

He let out a deep sigh as his head dropped. "I have no idea, I didn't even know that she was in Miami…She just turned up out of the blue."

Suddenly she felt terrible, terrible for saying such vicious things to him. She had lashed out in spite, wanting to hurt him as much as she was. Still, it was a confusing situation she had discovered him in. "What were you doing when I walked in?"

His body trembled slightly as he closed his eyes. "She wanted to see…see what they had done to me….I couldn't stop her, Calleigh."

"Why not?"

"Because….."

"Because of what, Horatio? Do you love her?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "She was my wife; I've never stopped loving her."

It wasn't the words she wanted to hear, she wanted him to tell her that Laura meant nothing to him, that she was something that had been consigned to ancient history. After everything she had done for him, how could he still love another woman?

The look on her face spoke volumes as he saw the multitude of emotions flicker across it. Cupping her face gently, he planted a tender kiss on her lips. "I love her….but I'm not in love with her."

She continued to look at him with that same hurt expression on her face.

"I…..love…..you," he told her between kisses, trying to make her see through actions alone that his heart belonged to just one person….her.