His head was pounding, his ears were blocked with a low ringing that dominated all other sound, his eyes burned with dust and he was acutely aware that his flesh felt like it was burning and damp in places. Yet for all his problems there was one that stood out at the front of Eric Delko's mind- where was Calleigh?

He had felt the wrongness the moment he had stepped into the cafe, and had cursed himself for not noticing it when they had been outside looking in. Yelina's face had tightened, her eyes had become fixated on one man, not too close yet close enough, her hand had twitched towards her gun and then suddenly pandemonium had broken out.

Eric pushed himself up from the shattered porcelain and glass, not even noticing how his palms were cut to bloody ribbons with the effort. He looked about anxiously, blinking hard to clear his eyes as he did. Where was she? Damnit if something had happened! 'Shit man you didn't tell her, you didn't let her know!' he thought in frustration. His heart was hammering fast but it wasn't fear, it was worry and uncertainty. He didn't care about himself, even the blur of people moving in the debris crying were only a minor factor, Calleigh, where the hell was she?

He caught a blur of long, blonde hair whipping through the air to his right and turned. She was there, moving, alive! She hastened to her feet, gun out and aimed, Eric followed her stare as he fumbled to pull out his own gun. 'Shit! Shit! Shit!' He moved as quickly as he could but it just didn't seem fast enough.

BANG! BANG! Eric's eyes widened as Calleigh suddenly twisted back with a wince. He started firing angrily with a cry of rage. BANG! BANG! The perpetrator went down, the straggler who, as Eric dumbly realised, had stayed to finish them off.

"Calleigh!" He rushed towards the blonde and extended out a hand as he looked at the growing bloodstain on her white pants' leg.

"I'm okay," she said with a wince as she looked to the motionless man on the floor, "God damnit they took her Eric!" She turned and looked to her companion at last, her blue eyes going wide at his bloody and bruised appearance. "Are you okay?!" she exclaimed.

"I'm fine," he assured with a nod and a faint smile. "What about Yelina?"

They searched through the cafe warily as Eric finally became aware of the song of police sirens and the blue and red lights flashing outside, help was here but for a few poor customers it was far too late. They had used a smoke bomb, then a minor explosion and in the chaos they had grabbed Emily and bolted, leaving two members behind to eliminate their would be pursuers. Eric noted that the second shooter was dead also, bent over a table awkwardly with a clean hole in his skull. He followed the path of the bullet and spied Yelina at last, in a crouch with her gun out in her right hand, her face angry and bloodied as she clutched at a wound with her free hand.

'What a mess,' Eric thought numbly as he hastened towards Yelina. 'We screwed up bad, people are dead and they got the girl...' He couldn't even think about what the cartel were liable to do to poor Emily Jenkins.

Neon lights, water features, women in bikinis dancing in cages, confetti, people in tanks performing acrobatic feats and four dizzying floors. Neptune's Palace wasn't well named but the theme was definitely there, there were two entrances, one with a complimentary soaking from an arch of taps above and one that just gave the illusion of it with neon blue lights, after that it was a maze of bars, dance floors, tables and more as music pumped out of every floor. It had nothing to do with the case but after lingering in a shady bar with a gothic theme that Estella had visited for a couple of drinks, Catherine has insisted on stalling the case until the morning and brightening up the mood. Nick had heartily agreed, reminding Ridley that she did want to see Vegas and that Catherine had all but promised them a show.

So here they were in a club Warrick had gotten them VIP access into with one quick phone call, the CSI claimed the owner owed him a favour after he had helped him out of a sticky situation. He had taken care to emphasise the word 'sticky' and jested about whipped cream, furry handcuffs and photographs being involved.

Nick and Warrick had practically dragged Ridley under the waterworks entrance whilst Catherine had shaken her head and grumbled about her dress until her wistful look had persuaded Horatio to offer her his jacket before he escorted her after the younger CSIs. Inside they had immediately gotten the eerie feeling of being underwater as the floor had a clever ripple effect on it thanks to expensive projections and the walls equally quivered with blue lights. There were half broken statues of the sea god Neptune, columns, mermaids and mermen. The centre piece of the room was a fountain with a huge golden chariot with two Hippocampus rearing up at the front of it, and Neptune standing in it with a raised trident that water spurted from. Everywhere they looked there were crowds and for a moment the effect was dizzying.

It was now after midnight and they had been in the club for over an hour, Nick and Warrick had insisted on taking Ridley onto the dance floor making a noticeable effort to cheer her up and even scorning her for looking at her phone too many times. Now they were back at the VIP table Catherine and Horatio occupied on the top floor taking a moment to rest and have some drinks.

Ridley toyed with her champagne glass as she sat on the edge of the cream, leather seats that were meant to resemble open clam shells. She took a deep sip before tugging out her phone and glancing down at it with a frown, three messages, all from Tim. The first was simply, 'where are you', the second was, 'seriously Ridley, where are you? I want to talk' and the third, the third was typical bitter Tim, 'fine, I hope you're having fun'. Ridley scowled angrily at the last message before she snapped the phone closed and shoved it back into her bag. Let him wonder, she knew it was petty not to reply especially given their pact to never ignore the other's text message but he had gone too far and if he was really concerned he could text Horatio couldn't he?

"So, Chris' niece?" Warrick queried bluntly. "And what's it like having an uncle who takes photos of bodies for scrapbooking?"

Ridley smiled and shook her head at that before taking another deep gulp. Uncle Chris, there was an awkward subject. "I feel about that how he probably feels about having a niece who's from Sleepy Hollow and whose birthday is on Halloween," she answered coyly.

"Halloween? Seriously?" Nick marvelled with a grin.

Ridley nodded even as she giggled.

"That's...unusual," Warrick commented carefully.

"No, that's awesome," Nick enthused.

Ridley shrugged. "It has its perks," she retorted happily before finishing her glass swiftly. She stood up and just managed to avoid a stumble as the bubbles hastened to her head. She knew it was unprofessional but it wasn't like anyone was telling her to stop or frowning at her and anyway, she damn well needed this. 'Thanks Tim,' she thought angrily, 'for dragging me right back to that place.'

"You know you're pretty fun," Warrick said with a small smile, "how exactly do you keep company with Speedle?"

"Yeah," Nick said with a slightly serious look as he grasped onto the subject he had wanted to mention most of the night. "Are you guys together? Because seriously, what he said at the table, what an asshole, I mean you can't be with a guy like that. What did he even mean by it?"

"Um..." Ridley looked awkward before she turned back to the table and seized another glass.

Horatio didn't even notice as he was occupied with Catherine's oddly infectious laugh. There was a small voice in his head that told him he should be keeping an eye on how much Ridley was drinking but a larger voice reminded him sternly that he wasn't her father, she was an adult and she probably needed this. "Sorry," he said apologetically to the blonde when he felt his phone buzz against his pocket. He tugged it out and put on an admirable poker face as 'Speed' flashed up on his screen. He opened the message and read it, 'H, I know I fucked up okay but where are you guys?'

'How eloquent,' Horatio thought dryly as he wondered if Ridley wasn't the only one trying to block out dinner with drink.

"We're dating," Ridley confessed to the Las Vegas pair at last before she took another deep sip, "but it's a little complicated. And that remark about the tour, just forget it, please," she added with a pleading look as her cheeks turned a dusky red.

Both Warrick and Nick frowned, and Nick folded his arms and looked at her curiously. "Okay seriously, why are you dating him?" he queried. Nick kept his voice light, trying to tell himself that he had only met this woman and this wasn't his business but Nick couldn't help it, when it came to people he was quick to empathise. It didn't help that Ridley seemed nice enough and that the pain in her eyes cut right through him and made him feel a deep annoyance towards Tim for causing it even though he hardly knew Tim either.

"Guy doesn't dress right," Warrick remarked bluntly, "so it can't be his fashion sense."

"He's got a bad attitude problem," Nick murmured, "I mean I don't get his remark but...well I think we all noticed that it hurt you."

Ridley blushed again at the remark and looked a little startled as she met his deep, dark eyes. 'You could get lost in those eyes,' she thought dumbly. 'Tim always has a spark in his eyes, even when he's grumpy there's a hint of humour there, just below the surface.'

"He...got me through a lot of pain," Ridley confessed softly.

"Okay, let me put it this way," Nick said seriously , "if I were with a woman like you I'd be here in the club dancing with you and making damn sure no one else could grab you up."

"Thanks," Ridley said sincerely with a small smile, "but you don't have to do that. It's Tim's problem, he can deal with it, I'm here to see Vegas, remember?"

"Right, well a big part of Vegas is the dance floors," Nick answered enthusiastically as he held out a hand to her.

Ridley accepted with another giggle as she swallowed down a pang of despair and the rest of the champagne. 'Tim hates dancing,' she reminded herself, 'so you'd only be missing out if he was here. Still, I miss his commentary on people's idea of fashion and the way he'll awkwardly try to half-dance on the outskirts of the dance floor when he's been drinking because he knows I like to dance.'

Tim sucked on his fourth cigarette of the night as he sat on the edge of a low wall and scowled down at his phone. Eric had yet to reply to his text message confessing how he had blown it, Ridley was blatantly ignoring him, which made him realise just how badly he had screwed up, even when mad she usually replied to him, and now he was waiting on Horatio deciding whether to get back to him or not. He had ended up in a bar, a terrible cliché but he had definitely needed it in his opinion, what he had not needed were the members of the hen party who had tried to chat him up. Oh sure they had been pretty girls but all he wanted was Ridley back beside him.

He hadn't meant to say what he had said, easy thinking that now of course but it was true. It was just that Nick, well Nick was taller, Nick was more muscular, Nick was handsome in a model like way and Nick smiled and was charming and friendly and Nick probably didn't get flashbacks of getting a bullet to the chest. Nick probably wouldn't flinch if an idiot in a rabbit mask tried to shoot him. Worse, all the Nick shit was just the icing on the cake for Tim; why in the hell did Warrick have to bring that photograph out? Tim you're so different, Tim you used to be friendly. 'Yeah I was different,' he thought moodily, 'I wasn't me but she liked me better that way, what if Ridley would like that Tim better too? She's probably fed up with grumpy, traumatised Tim who's too busy with his own nightmares to console her over hers.'

"Shit!" he exclaimed angrily as he stubbed out the cigarette and flicked it onto the ground. He opened his phone and decided to text someone else, someone who was probably in bed but who at least usually had time for him no matter how dumb the problem. 'Hey Alexx...I fucked up with Ridley, again. I don't know why I had to do it but I did, I said something nasty to her and...shit I don't think she'll forgive me for this one. They were talking about earlier...fuck they even had a photograph, all that time ago when...well when I had short hair and smarter clothes and acted like a happy little dick because it made her happy, you know...when I was with Megan. Fuck, sorry for swearing but, was I better like that? Was I nicer to know?'

He hesitated momentarily over the send button before pressing it hard, standing up and then heading into another bar. It was easier to text, he knew despite how drunk he was getting if he phoned Alexx the words wouldn't come out, Tim wasn't one for verbal confessions but texting, that was all too easy sometimes, it was impersonal, you didn't have to see the look of shock or disgust you were getting to your confession.

Three whiskey shots later and Alexx and Horatio finally replied. Tim, as he lingered over his fourth shot, looked at Alexx's message first with bleary eyes and realised that he had been stupid to expect sympathy. The message read, 'Timmy you are a fool. How did you manage this one? If you want to be with Ridley, be with Ridley and if you don't, don't but you and that girl have jerked each other around enough for a lifetime, it has to stop. And don't give me your self-pity act; I know that means you have been drinking. Believe me I'll be talking to Horatio about watching you kids better! I love you Timmy, even when you're pulling crap like this and I already told you, Megan made you someone else, it was manipulation, you are who you are and that's who I love and I suspect who Ridley loves too but you're going to have to ask her about that one. What exactly did you say anyway?'

Tim smiled bitterly as he attempted to send a reply, in the end it only became readable thanks to auto-correct and read, 'I more or less told her to fuck a Vegas cop. I'm awesome, right?' He hit send, finished the shot and finally read Horatio's text. The redhead was brief but polite, 'we're at Neptune's Palace, you are welcome to join us Tim but no more insulting Ridley.'

There was a sober voice inside Tim that said Horatio had every right to text what he had, in fact he had a right to be a lot more scolding but unfortunately the whiskey won out and Tim went with the eloquent reply of 'fuck you'. Only after he hit the send button did the voice in his head grow slightly louder and assure him this was something else he would be regretting.

Horatio looked down at his phone and sighed before giving Catherine an apologetic smile.

"Detective Speedle need you?" Catherine guessed calmly as her eyes glimmered with a hint of annoyance.

"Afraid so," Horatio retorted dryly before he turned his deep blue gaze on the dance floor where some dance craze from the 90s was being re-enacted.

"We could escort Detective Moon back to your hotel later if you want to spare her the drama," Catherine offered helpfully.

"I do want to spare her," Horatio admitted, "but I can't I..." He trailed off, unsure what to admit about his complicated relationship with Ridley.

"Need to keep her in your sights," Catherine finished calmly as she leaned into him to be better heard. She smiled when he looked to her curiously. "Normally you're a closed book Horatio but I've noticed how you haven't let Ridley out of your sight all night." She gave him a serious look. "You know I read about what happened to her in Miami, at least what the press released, although rumour round work says it was a lot worse, and you couldn't have prevented that."

"I could have," he retorted quietly as he held Catherine's gaze, "I let her out of my sight and she walked straight into a trap."

"Horatio I've worked with you and I know it couldn't have been so simple."

Horatio stood up. "Well anyway, much as I'd rather avoid a reconciliation between her and Tim tonight I need to find him and I can't leave her."

Catherine hastened to stand too. "I'd like to say you should let Detective Speedle sweat it out but I get it, if it were one of mine I'd go after them too, strange city and all that. We will all go, we would be poor hosts not to accompany you safely to your hotel," she said firmly.

"Alright, and thank you Catherine," the redhead replied sincerely with a small smile.

Catherine couldn't help but smile back, there was something sweet about the redhead's brief, minute grins, he smiled in a subtle fashion that made Catherine feel as if it was something to be earned.

It took Catherine a couple of minutes to find Ridley and the others and then it took them twenty minutes more to get their coats, leave the club and wrangle a taxi big enough for six passengers. By then Horatio had gotten Tim's location out of him via a phone call and also given the traces expert stern instructions to keep quiet and to sleep on the couch in Horatio's room without a fuss. The redhead contemplated that Ridley might not feel safe in the hotel room by herself and decided if that was the case he would occupy the couch in her and Tim's room.

It took them close to half an hour to reach Tim. The dark haired man was sitting on the edge of a fountain, half-slouched over, head bowed and a cigarette burning out in his left hand. Horatio exited the taxi and approached him wordlessly before hastening him into the middle row of the taxi between himself and Catherine. Tim said nothing and didn't so much as glance at the three passengers behind him. Instead Tim burrowed his hands through his dark hair and placed his head in his lap, and remained like that for the rest of the journey.

"Good night Catherine," Horatio said politely once they arrived at their hotel, "and thanks for a good evening."

"Our pleasure," Catherine enthused as she leaned past Tim.

"Night guys," Ridley remarked cheerfully to Warrick and Nick, "and thanks for a good night."

"No problem, it was fun," Warrick retorted calmly.

"Yeah, I hope you liked the tour," Nick said with a small smile. He knew it was a cheap shot but he felt it was worth the grunt of disgust Tim gave.

Ridley gave a soft smile at that but resisted the urge to retort and irk Tim further, even though he deserved it. Instead she slipped out of the taxi and scurried towards the hotel doors. She waited in the lobby for Horatio and a stumbling Tim but said nothing when they reached her.

"Speed's going to sleep on the couch in my room tonight," Horatio explained to her as she hit the button for a lift.

Ridley nodded dismissively.

"Are you alright with that?" the redhead pried with a serious look as the lift binged and the doors opened.

"Fine," Ridley answered coolly as she stepped into the lift.

It didn't take long for them to reach their rooms and head to bed. Ridley hurried into hers without a glance at Tim or a word to either of the men, the fury clear on her face. Horatio headed to his room quietly, abandoning Tim to the living room trusting that the younger CSI would eventually find his way to the couch.

It was to a rosy, hot Vegas morning that Tim awoke with a dry mouth, a pounding headache, a gurgling stomach and what he was certain was the worst hangover of his life. He opened his bloodshot eyes slowly and felt only a tinge of relief that the dark blue curtains were mercifully closed. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings and it was only when he tried to turn and rolled onto the floor with a loud bang and several loud curses that he realised he had in fact been sleeping on a couch.

As the traces expert clutched his pounding skull with one hand and made a half-hearted effort to sit up he realised the next question was where exactly was he? A hotel room yes, but which one? He had a blurred image of Ridley and Horatio but wasn't entirely sure whose room he had staggered into. After his stomach gave a loud groan he realised he no longer cared whose quarters it was, just where the bathroom was.

Ten minutes and several mouthfuls of vomit later and Tim staggered back into the living room, pale faced, sweaty and looking more than a little worse for wear. 'And Warrick thought I looked like shit yesterday,' he thought sarcastically to himself as he stumbled through the room looking for a hint as to who occupied it. The main clock read just after nine and he wondered if the occupant was even up. Deciding to risk it, he hunted for the main bedroom and found the door ajar and the room empty. Seeing one single, neat, brown bag he realised with a wash of embarrassment that it was Horatio's hotel suite he had passed out in.

After scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, Tim tugged out his phone and saw a message from Horatio saying, 'Speedle, I'm having breakfast in the lobby, Ridley is still in bed, don't disturb her.' He cringed awkwardly when he saw that his last message to Horatio had been rather expletive. "Shit," he murmured aloud. He rubbed his face briefly, let out a groan and glanced at the time of the message, just twenty minutes ago. 'Well I'm already in trouble, may as well keep going,' he thought to himself as he headed out of the room and promptly knocked on the door beside it.

After three more loud knocks Ridley finally answered the door, ashen faced and baggy eyed with a complimentary nightgown slung over last night's dress. Her hair was down in a messy tangle and her make-up was looking a little faded and smeared now, the raccoon eyes giving away the fact that she had been crying. She took one look at Tim and immediately slammed the door in his face.

"Ridley," he called as he knocked the door again, "come on! Ridley, I'm going to keep making noise until you open up," he threatened as he continued knocking.

She opened the door once more and gave him such a hateful glare that he actually flinched. "Whatever you have to say I don't want to hear it," she snapped at him in a low voice, "you said enough last night and I'm done Tim."

"I deserve that," Tim said with a guilty look as he entered the room, "and I shouldn't have said what I said but-"

"No buts Tim," Ridley interrupted sharply, "you knew what I went through with the shrink, all the accusations about me...using cops, then you sling it in my face, and act like...like I'm slut! Well fuck you Tim okay, fuck you! You can get off your pedestal you know, you waited weeks before you moved on from me, just weeks before you started sleeping with someone you hardly knew, at least I knew the men I fucked! God..." She shook her head angrily. "I thought we were past all this petty shit, I thought you didn't think I used you and that you understood why Justin even if you didn't approve, I was scared Tim not horny! You know what, it doesn't matter, you said yourself I've backed off too many times, well you've insulted me too many times, I think we can conclude this isn't working out and it's not going to."

"Ridley don't," he pleaded. "I got insecure over Nick, I admit it, because well Christ all you have to do is look at the guy, he's attractive, he's healthy, he's charming, he's friendly, and he's probably not having nightmares about a guy in a rabbit mask or suffering paranoia over getting shot. He's probably not dumb enough to let you walk into danger either, Hell he's the type who would never let you out of his sight, he could protect you, I couldn't and it eats me up."

"That's pathetic Tim," Ridley snapped crossly, "I've never made you feel that kind of inadequacy or guilt and it sure as shit doesn't give you the right to rip me up the way you did last night. Nor is it everything, you've been odd ever since we got here and anytime Warrick talks about before, you go quiet or angry. You know I don't even care what the hell your problem is anymore, I don't have the energy but nothing gave you the right to...to fuck me up again." Her eyes burned with tears and she rubbed at them fiercely with a scowl. "I've spent so many months trying to justify my actions you know, I told you that, about my insecurities over...over the idea of my cop hero and in a single sentence you demean it, act like my problem is that I just sleep around, our entire relationship and you act like it was just a fling for me, like I could just drop you and pick up with someone I hardly know. You said you loved me and yet you think so little of me."

"I...Ridley it's me I think so little of right now, and no, I'm not trying to throw a pity party here I'm just trying to explain. I got insecure so I tried to put that on you and act like you had the problem not me. I didn't think for one second that you were going to go off with Nick or anyone else and I don't think you sleep around with cops, I just...I was angry and you were happy and having a good time and I resented that so I had to be a dick and ruin it. It is completely pathetic I know, I should have supported you actually having fun for a change and instead I tried to drag you down to my mood, I was miserable and I wanted you to be miserable too."

She slapped him hard causing him to give a moan of pain and grasp his cheek with a wince. All he could think sardonically was that at least she hadn't punched him yet.

"Well congratulations, you got what you wanted," she retorted bitingly. "Look, I'm going to get washed, we have business to do here in case you've forgotten." She turned away from him and when he grabbed her right arm and turned her back the punch came at last.

"Fuck!" Tim was quick to curse as her fist caught him hard up the jaw. He released her to clutch at his jaw with both hands before glowering at her. His brown gaze was quick to soften into guilt as he saw the tears flowing down her cheeks. "Okay I deserved that," he grumbled as he released his jaw at last and swallowed down a mouthful of blood.

"Just leave me alone," Ridley said tiredly before she started walking off to the bathroom.

"No," Tim snapped as he hastened after her, "because I left you alone last time and it just went on. Look I fucked up, I'll say it again and again, I'm sorry, more sorry than you know and I love you and I know I hurt you and I know our relationship has been far from easy but damn it Ridley do you really not want a relationship?"

She glanced back him with a fresh look of anger. "Don't dare," she choked out as she swallowed down a sob, "don't act like it's me ending this by myself. You humiliated me and of all the things to say...then you left, you left Tim, you made that choice."

"And I regretted it and I tried to find out where you were," he protested. "Ridley it was a mistake, a big one but it was a mistake. Please, I got shot okay and I'm fucking terrified of it happening again, I'm scared and I'm tired and I'm angry because I'm scared and then Warrick frigging talks about the old me, this happy, outgoing prick and all I keep thinking is, shit was that better? Was I more likeable? Would Ridley like that guy more? Because someone else liked that guy more, and that guy wasn't real, that guy was something I pretended to be because I was stupid and in love. So I got angry thinking about all that, about how I wasn't good enough for Warrick, and I wasn't good enough for you and I just wanted to leave and I wanted you to leave with me so you wouldn't hear anymore about the false me or realise that Nick's a nicer guy than me and a better CSI, and shit, I lashed out and it wasn't fair."

Ridley looked at him in stunned silence before shaking her head. "Tim you really think so little of me," she said sorrowfully, "to believe that I would like a different you or that someone else's opinion of you would sway mine." She hurried to the bathroom and was swift to close the door and lock it.

Tim grumbled a curse before heading to the bedroom, wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

Almost an hour later found both Ridley and Tim washed and dressed. Before they could have another uncomfortable discussion the door knocked. Ridley opened it to a pallid Horatio. "What's wrong?" she was quick to ask.

"Calleigh, Eric and Yelina," he answered darkly, "there was an incident in Miami."