A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful friend, Jasmine105. Thank you sweetie xxxx
Present day. Miami:
Alexx had left by early afternoon, having stayed longer than either of them had intended. It felt nice to have a friendly face to talk to; a bonus considering that the last time she had spoken to the kind doctor it had almost cost them their friendship.
That was one of the good things about Alexx, she never held a grudge. Although she now realised that she had been foolhardy in the extreme to ask her friend to lie to Sargent Craig, the doctor knew her well enough to know that her heart was in the right place and that her intentions were pure. After all, they were united by the same thing, wanting what was best for Horatio.
She had felt so helpless over the preceding months when Horatio had needed the skill and support of Alexx and her medical team to recover from his injuries, there wasn't much for her to do but sit by his bedside and murmur soothing words in his ear as he lay helpless in a hospital bed. Those times that he had fought against his own body's weakness, she had been powerless to do anything to help him except tell him that things would be alright, something that had sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.
She felt useless as she watched him flail from one setback to another during his time in hospital, each time he took a step forward and made progress, something would invariably happen to cause him to take another two steps back. There was nothing she could say, no words that would make his period of recovery any easier. So she stayed steadfast by his side as she attempted to imbue him with a little of her own steely strength and determination, not allowing him to push her away in a fit of anger.
She had always thought of herself as a patient person, but there were times when Horatio's bitterness and inability to accept his situation grated on her nerves to the point that she had snapped at him, completely at odds with her usually sunny disposition. Horatio in a foul mood would be enough to bring many a grown man to tears and beg for mercy, some days she had tolerated the growling and the cold stares, others she had reached her limit with him and his self-indulgent fits of pitying as she fired back with her own stinging retort.
Yet she couldn't deny the truth in his words last night as he told her that she was becoming too much. She had been forced into the role of protector for so long that she found it an extremely hard habit to break. Due to her career and circumstance, she had never been gifted the honour of having children and it had started to become something she had thought of with increasing frequency over the last few years.
Her biological clock was ticking. Nearing her forties, she knew that time would soon run out to have children of her own. There had always been that mothering instinct in her since she was a child, her upbringing in Louisiana had forced her into the role of caregiver at a relatively young age. Her father, although he was a dear, sweet man, needed a great deal of attention to ensure that he stayed on the straight and narrow.
Kenwall Duquesne was a man who seemingly had it all. A good job, a loving wife and a beautiful daughter with which he shared his home in the beautiful surroundings of the Louisiana countryside. How could a man with a life only others could dream of be so insistent on throwing away everything that was right in his world?
It had been a question she had asked herself many a time as she once more came to his aid and drove him home after one too many drinks at the local bar. Her father's drinking had become noticeable when she was turning into a young woman herself, with age came awareness, suddenly her father's strange behaviour began to make sense. When she was a child she had put his clumsiness down to being a quirk of his nature, she would giggle at the way he tripped over his own feet and be rewarded with a giggle from her loving father in return as they shared in their own private joke.
As a child, she could never understand why her mother would not join in with the fun and games when Daddy was being silly and falling over. Her mother would tut and walk away, shaking her head sadly as she made her way back to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the day.
It was not until she turned thirteen that she realised just why her mother took such a dim view of their larking around. The other kids at school had begun talking about stealing their parent's liquor, planning to meet up by the abandoned house down the road so that they could all get their first taste of alcohol. Giving in to peer pressure, she joined them as the large group of boys and girls sat in a circle in the creepy old house that had lay derelict for years, the boys told horror stories of what had happened to the people that had lived there in the hopes that one or more of the girls would be so frightened that they would leap into their safe and strong arms, and perhaps even reward them with a kiss.
Calleigh Duquesne knew better than to listen to the far-fetched tales of a few randy boys looking to get themselves a bit of action. Sitting quietly next to her best friend, Charlie, she watched the rest of the group with quiet amusement, casting furtive glances at her watch to make sure she would be back in time to devour her mother's famous pot roast.
A bottle of liquor had started to get passed around the circle and Calleigh found herself getting increasingly nervous as it came nearer to her, not knowing whether she would be brave enough to take a sip herself or risk being singled out by the group for passing up on the opportunity. They would rib her mercilessly if she didn't take part, the teasing would last for weeks and that wasn't a thought that she particularly relished.
She had a rare combination of both brains and beauty which afforded her the freedom to walk the fine line between being part of the in-crowd while also being able to devote enough time to her studies to achieve good grades. Most other children associated intelligence with being a dorky geek, all thick glasses and goofy braces, but not Calleigh, she had been fortunate enough to gain the best of both worlds.
The debate as to whether to take a sip of alcohol was still raging in her mind as the bottle reached Charlie, it was then that she inhaled a scent that was strikingly familiar to her. The smell of scotch took her back to those summer days that she and her father would run around the house tripping up and falling over, giggling to themselves until their sides hurt. All of a sudden, those innocent tumbles didn't seem quite so innocent after all.
She had made her excuses and left as she took the bottle from Charlie's hand and passed it to the person on her left, climbing to her feet and dusting the dirt from her skirt as she made her way hastily to what was left of the front door. She could hear her friends calling out to her, some teased her and called her names, others just laughed at the girl who had wussed out of taking a swig of liquor.
All the way home her thoughts were consumed by the times that she had shared with her father, the times that she had thought they were being playful. It was beginning to dawn on her that her father's behaviour was not normal and that the scotch had played a large part in the way he was. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that his bouts of clumsiness were increasing in their frequency.
It gave her a much better understanding of her mother's fractious relationship with him. For such a long time she had been confused as to why her parents didn't seem to get along, she had such a good relationship with both of them that she couldn't work out why they were always so unfriendly towards each other.
She had always been close to her mother, more often than not they were more like best friends than mother and daughter, always doing girly things together. As she was beginning to mature into a young woman, her mother would allow her to put on a little lipstick from time to time and they would both lose themselves in styling each others hair. She had two parents that loved her and treated her well, why couldn't they do the same for each other?
As she continued to grow, she continued to understand her father and his odd behaviour a little better. There had been times when she had asked him why; if things were so good in his life, why did he choose to waste all that he had by drinking?
It was a question that he had struggled to give her a suitable answer to and after a while she stopped asking and just accepted that was the way her father was. She would avoid telling him of parent-teacher meetings when she was in high school, dreading the fact that it if he knew he would likely turn up drunk and make a show of himself, and her too. She loved her father despite his battles with the bottle, always believing him when he declared that this was the time that he would kick the habit for good.
To be the child of an alcoholic parent was never easy, there were days when she questioned why her father drank to excess; was the love of his wife and daughter not enough for him?
There were dark times when she would blame herself for his drinking, convincing herself that she had somehow failed as a daughter and had caused him to reach for the bottle. Other times she would be so consumed by her disappointment in him that she would wonder why he loved the drink more than her. Surely if he cared for her he would give up drinking, did he not love her enough?
Time and experience had taught her that her father's issues had nothing to do with her, he would continue drinking until he finally came to the realisation that he wanted to stop, no amount of begging and pleading on her part would make him change his ways. Her unconditional love for him kept her coming back each time he had declared that he would be turning over a new leaf. She would allow herself to feel a small sense of hope only to be crushed by disappointment when he fell off the wagon again, each time she thought it would be different, yet the end result was always the same.
Her parent's marriage fell apart when she was no longer there to keep them together, as she graduated from high school and made her way in college the two of them no longer had anything that kept them united. Her mother had loved him with her heart and soul, but she could no longer bear to put herself through the trauma of staying with him. She had wanted a husband who would take care of her and yet she found herself cleaning up after the man she loved as he stumbled in from yet another heavy night of drinking, again and again.
The divorce was a bitter affair and soon turned nasty as her mother and father turned on each other, causing him to hit the bottle even harder than he had previously. It was a small mercy that she herself had been deep into her studies at college at the time; she loved both of her parents deeply and did not want to be forced to choose sides. Since she had discovered her father's problems with alcohol she had maintained a sunny disposition, broadcasting to the world that she was fine and that she was happy. The truth was something else entirely.
Smiling and being bubbly became her coping mechanism, if people thought she was happy they would not question her too deeply about her life, that way she could hide from what was really wrong. There would be no point in walking around with a permanent frown on her face; it wouldn't change her lot in life. No, the best thing to do was dust herself down and get on with things, never letting the world see the turmoil she felt inside.
Maintaining contact with her parents had become difficult, both of them would talk disparagingly about the other and expect her to voice her opinions or take sides, which she refused to do. The only answer was to move away and leave them to get on with it, when the opportunity to work in ballistics at the New Orleans Police Department came along she jumped at the chance to make a fresh start.
New Orleans was a place that was away from her parents yet close enough that she could get back quickly if an emergency arose. Her mother had seemed much happier in herself after the divorce and had found a new man to settle down with, a man who took care of her and loved her in the ways that her ex-husband couldn't. Phillip was a breath of fresh air and made her mother happy, who was she to stand in the way of their relationship?
Her father meanwhile had never really moved on from the divorce and it appeared to her that he used it as an excuse to carry on drinking, the self-pity exacerbating his desire to drink himself into oblivion and forget the world around him for a precious few hours.
She had returned to Louisiana to celebrate his birthday one year, knocking on his front door and receiving no answer, she had begun to worry about his safety and had spent the day driving around the local town trying to find him before returning to his house early in the evening. As soon as the patrol car pulled up by the sidewalk she knew immediately that it was her father inside. Her heart sank as he stumbled from the car and only remained on his feet due to the fact that a uniformed officer was holding him upright.
After thanking the officers, she had taken him inside and put him to bed, pulling his shoes from his feet and covering him with the comforter as he lay fully-clothed, making sure he was lying on his side as she left the room quietly. She had spent the night on the couch only half-sleeping as she kept an ear out for movements from her father's room should he need assistance.
He woke the next morning in the usual way, promising never to drink again and that today would be the start of a new era for him. He would stay sober and make his little 'lamb chop' proud of him. She would respond in kind, smiling at him and telling him that this time it would be different; willing herself to believe that, even though she knew it was unlikely. It was her curse as his daughter that she would believe him each time he swore he would never drink again, before feeling the inevitable pangs of disappointment once more.
She had met Horatio while working in New Orleans and had been instantly mesmerised by his deep blue eyes and his thirst for justice. The two weeks that they had spent working together had served to give her a renewed enthusiasm for her work and after he had left to return to Miami she had found herself missing his presence.
He'd told her that he could do with a ballistics expert like her in his Lab and after only a few days of thinking about it she had made up her mind that moving to Miami would be a good thing for her, enabling her to put more distance between her, her parents and their problems.
It had worked well for a while, that was until her father decided to move to Miami to be closer to her. Her heart sank as he told her of his plans, she had resigned herself to the fact that he would never give up drinking, but it had become too painful to watch him throw his life away. Perhaps it was selfish on her part, out of sight out of mind, but she could no longer stand to watch his descent any longer.
Her father moving to Miami had only served to make her more disillusioned with him as she was once again forced into the role of caregiver, often having to collect him from one bar or another at the end of the night and driving him home, staying on the couch to make sure that he was alright.
Still she maintained her perky demeanour at work, not wishing to let anyone know about her father and his drinking, even though Horatio had started asking questions about the erratic behaviour of 'Duke' Duquesne when he came to the Department on professional business as a defence attorney. She was well aware that her superior could sense the unease she felt around her father, yet said nothing of it except to ask if she was ok.
Horatio had always employed an 'open door' policy in the Lab and it comforted her to know that she could always talk to him if she felt the need to. The chance had never arisen though, the Lab had always been a hive of activity and it seemed as if she rarely found a spare moment to sit and talk to the Lieutenant about the things that were bothering her.
It began to occur to her that in many ways perhaps she was the same as Horatio, both had kept their minds from their personal issues by consuming themselves with their professional duties. She had snapped at him for keeping things from her and not being open and honest when really she was no better herself. Perhaps talking to Horatio about her parents would enable him to see why she felt the need to mother him.
The nurturing instinct in her was strong, borne of the need to take care of her father on a regular basis. It had been an instinct that had increased during her adult life as the roles between parent and child were reversed. Horatio had been injured and vulnerable, she had instilled herself in the role of protector without a second thought, keeping him from those who meant him harm as he struggled to recover from what had been done to him.
Yet Horatio was not her father, nor was he a child who needed mothering. He was a man who was proud and independent, and now that his strength was returning he would not stand for her fussing over him. He didn't need her to take care of him like she had her father, he would not tolerate it, and deep down she knew it would push him away if she continued to do so.
Horatio's situation had not been of his own doing, unlike her father. Kenwall Duquesne had chosen to drink even though he had a family who had loved him. Horatio had been through more traumatic events than most and yet he maintained the resolve not to descend into destructive habits. His strength had been put to the test in the most challenging of ways, and though he had faltered at times, he had finally begun to emerge from the horrific events that had transpired.
Horatio was different from all of the other men in her life, looking back it was clear that the men she had dated had all needed that nurturing instinct from her. They had all needed taking care of in one way or another and she had fallen into that role, not knowing any different after years of caring for her unpredictable and erratic father. All of those relationships were doomed to fail; she didn't want to be thrust into the role of being the responsible one, always taking care of the men in her life. The men she had dated had been emotionally needy or immature and it was only a matter of time before she would walk away from the relationship with her heart broken and her hopes dashed as yet another relationship crashed and burned.
Horatio was different, he was a man who was in control of his life and didn't need the emotional support or someone to take care of him. He was a protector, like her. His ordeal had tested his physical and emotional resilience and she had been called upon to offer him those nurturing and maternal instincts that came so naturally to her. Now that his strength was returning, she needed to take a step back from her urge to take care of him, he needed to be given the space to work through things on his own.
She knew that she loved Horatio and one of the main things that attracted her to the handsome Lieutenant was his inner strength and determination. Being with a man like Horatio would allow her to take a step back from being the strong one all the time, she would not be required to take care of Horatio like she had the others. She would be able to be herself around him, and perhaps discover the woman she had always been yet never had the chance to find out. The key, she told herself, was to let Horatio find his own way and hope that he would return to her side.
Feeling a renewed sense of determination, she pulled herself up from the kitchen table and made her way to the lounge, pausing when she heard the front door open quietly.