Ridley gave a small, weary smile as she spotted Raymond Caine Junior cutting a lonely figure in the November afternoon on a rusting swing in a small, vague form of a park. It had been no surprise that he had left school without waiting for a lift again but locating him was getting a bit trickier and every time whoever was picking him up always felt a surge of panic, worry and of course fear, fear for the boy, fear for the grief it would add to Horatio's state, and fear of the consequences should social services ever find out that the police and CSIs of all people couldn't keep a ten-year-old boy within their sights.

To begin with Raymond had started skipping school but then the school was always swift to call his guardian, Horatio, and it didn't take long for the redhead to track down his nephew. At first Horatio had been nice about it, reminded Raymond that he was entitled to take the time off if he wanted but Raymond had insisted on going to school. Then things turned sour as Horatio started to lose his temper. It hadn't taken Raymond long to work out that it was smarter disappearing after school rather than during as the school wasn't going to alert anyone if he walked home or left with a friend, as the school could never be certain who exactly he should be going home with.

"Hi Raymond," Ridley greeted softly as she took a seat on the rubber swing beside him and gave him a tired stare. Yelina had died just nine days ago, the funeral had only been six days ago, and yet to Ridley, who had hastened to pick up the pieces, work wise at least, it seemed like it could have been just yesterday or months ago. The New Yorker had lost all sense of time, she was working hard on Yelina's workload and sharing the bulk of Frank's as he was still on sick leave, and all the while there was the lingering knowledge that their Wonderland serial killer was still out there. Yelina was dead but the world was still spinning and no one could seem to make it stop even for just a moment so they could try and deal with their grief and shock, and compose themselves better.

"I thought Delko was getting me," the boy commented sullenly as he stared down at his dirty trainers.

'Delko,' Ridley thought dryly, 'I wonder who he picked that up from.'

"Why, would you have stayed at school if you knew I was coming?" she queried calmly.

"No," he retorted sardonically as if she was being stupid.

Ridley smiled. "Good to know it's not personal. It's quite cold; did you really want fresh air this badly?" She noted that he wasn't wearing a coat and wondered if he had left it at school or if Tim hadn't had the sense to insist he wore one to school.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Where's your coat?" Ridley pried.

"Speed said he didn't care what I wore as long as I got my ass dressed and in the car because we were late." Raymond actually gave a small smirk to his trainers at this. "I like him, if he'd come I wouldn't have walked. I asked him to come," he added moodily, "but he just told me to get out and go study."

"You like him because he gets you takeaways because he can't cook and he lets you watch adult movies instead of helping with your homework," Ridley pointed out as she shook her head chidingly. One night, Tim had only had to mind the kid for one night until Calleigh had gotten off her shift and according to the blonde the traces expert had failed at childminding spectacularly.

Raymond finally looked over at Ridley with Yelina's beautiful, brown eyes and frowned. "I don't like you," he said angrily, "Uncle Horatio cancelled seeing us because of you, I heard my mum tell her friends, she liked you at work but she thought you were hiding something. Now you're trying to be her at work."

"I'm not," Ridley protested as she kept her face calm though she wondered when exactly Horatio had cancelled seeing his only family for her and felt a surge of guilt. Yelina had always been a sharp detective, she imagined the woman had picked up on the odd relationship between Ridley and Horatio all too easily and undoubtedly had wondered at it. "I'm just trying to finish her work for her," she attempted to explain, "your mum worked so hard, it shouldn't be in vain."

"Worked," Raymond repeated numbly. "It's always past tense now!" he shouted suddenly. "Mum was and mum did, I hate it! The teacher said she was a good person and it sounds like she's not anymore, like she's bad, but she's not, she's still a good person! She is a good person! I hate it, it was only days ago and already people are acting like she's in the past."

Ridley's brown-grey eyes sparked with realisation and she nodded. "It is horrible hearing that," she agreed, "your loved ones talked about like they're gone completely. I understand, my best friend died last year and the pain of hearing people talk about her in past tense like she didn't exist anymore was agonising. It's just...it is how people try to deal with it Raymond, they don't mean to offend you it's just it's their way of moving on from the pain.

Your mother is still around and part of her always will be but it's a part you can't see anymore and unfortunately the part that you can...that is gone now. When people use past tense it's...it's about the part of your mother than was flesh and blood, she was a wonderful, smart and loving person, but the other part of her, it's always in the present, and even if people don't acknowledge that or talk about it, it's still here, your mother is still in the present, loving you and watching you."

"If she loved me she wouldn't have left! Why was she there huh? Why was she in danger?" he demanded as he glared up at Ridley.

Ridley sighed. "It was her job, she was protecting other people and unfortunately things went wrong and your mother got injured helping others. She fought hard to stay though, you must know that Raymond, you saw her in the hospital, she tried for so long to survive but...but sometimes we don't win that fight. She did try though Raymond, she didn't choose to leave you, she was taken from you, from all of us."

"And now I'm alone," he retorted tearfully.

"Now that's not true," Ridley said seriously as she gave him a stern look, "you have your Uncle Horatio and-"

"He's not around," Raymond interrupted flatly, "even now, mum's...dead and he still keeps working and I don't see him, no one has time for me. All these people I don't even know who work with my uncle taking me back and forth like I'm a chore to be shared."

Ridley looked saddened at this as she felt sympathy for the young boy. "You're right," she agreed solemnly, "but no one means it to be that way. This was all unexpected and it's meant a great deal of change, for you, for your uncle and for us. Your uncle loved and still does love your mother a great deal and this has been very difficult for him and he's not able to cope with it so he throws himself into his work to avoid it. I know, I did the same thing when my partner died, it's how some of us react to grief, by not actually dealing with it but I think you understand that Raymond because you're doing the same thing, you didn't wait very long before going back to school."

"School's the same, or it should be," he grumbled, "home's...not. School has the same classes, same schedule, it's meant to be normal but people aren't being normal, they're either avoiding me or being too nice or they don't know how to talk to me, and I hate it! And when I get out, it's someone different every time, someone to pick me up, take me home, wait and stare at the clock until the sitter comes or my nanny or someone else. I'm tired of it, I want my life back, I want my mummy back!" He threw his head into his lap and started to sob.

"I know Raymond," Ridley tried to console him as she placed a hand lightly on his back, "when someone close to you dies you don't just lose them, you lose so much more, your whole way of living. You feel sick and everything around you just moves in a confusing blur and you never think it's going to be right again. Everything's a painful reminder of them and of the change and you just want to run away from it all but that won't fix it.

Look, things seem bleak now, and they won't ever be the way they were, that's true but they will be good again, that's also true, even if you don't think it. Even if you think that right now you are completely alone and lost, I promise you Raymond you're not, your mother left good people around to watch out for you for her, and your uncle loves you even if he isn't showing it too well right now. You will get through this and one day you will wake up and even though your mother is still gone the pain will be less and when you think of her you will be happy because it will be the good times you are thinking about, not the bad. It just...it takes time Raymond and you have to give it time."

The curly haired boy sniffled into his lap before lifting his head slowly and rubbing at his eyes. "So are you taking me home now?" he queried crossly. "To wait for grandma?"

"I'm taking you home," Ridley retorted brightly as she withdrew her hand, "because it is cold and you need to get changed, but then I'm going to ring Horatio and see if it's okay if I take you to do something normal and fun, if you want of course."

"Like what?" he queried hoarsely as he looked at her curiously.

Ridley shrugged. "I don't know, what's fun for a ten-year-old boy?"

"Pizza and a movie," he suggested hopefully.

Ridley felt her stomach squirm objectively but tried to ignore it. Her stomach had been tender for the past three days; she was certain it was due to not eating properly and working too hard and told herself it would be fine once things calmed down, if they calmed down. "Sure," she gave into his pleading stare.

"Can Speed come too?"

Ridley shook her head quickly. "Sorry, he's working a long shift," she answered hastily.

"Oh." Raymond looked a little disappointed. "He doesn't like me, does he?" he asked quietly.

"Of course he does," Ridley reassured with a convincing smile. The truth however was that Tim had sent her several expletive filled text messages referencing Raymond this morning and was always grumbling about the boy. Ridley didn't think it was personal she just didn't think Tim was the type of person who was good with children, unlike Calleigh who seemed to be a natural with Raymond. 'You owe me Tim,' she thought sternly. "So, can we get in the car now?" Ridley suggested.

Raymond nodded and stood up from the swing at last. "How did you find me anyway?" he queried curiously.

"I'm a detective," Ridley reminded him with a small smile, "it's my job."

Calleigh felt nervous as she stood outside her boss' door, she had never visited his house before and had managed to avoid it since Yelina's passing, until now. There was no else free to do it but someone had to because no one had heard from Horatio since he had finished a ridiculous twenty-two hour shift at eight o'clock this morning and there were rumours swirling that it was only thanks to the captain's orders that Horatio had actually gone home. Eric was still recovering and barely fit for the childminding he had insisted on helping out with, Tim was only just nearing the end of his own shift, and Ridley was leaving Raymond home to his grandmother.

When the door finally opened Calleigh's nerves faded away, replaced by concern as she realised she was glad she had come here after all because evidently someone had needed to. Horatio leaned against his doorframe with his right arm and seemed to stare through Calleigh with his bloodshot cerulean eyes. He looked so exhausted Calleigh imagined he was past the point of being aware of it, now numb and functioning on auto-pilot and he was almost untidy, well untidy for Horatio, certainly not untidy the way Tim was. His grey trousers were beltless, his white shirt was hanging out and his blazer and tie were missing.

"Good evening Calleigh," he greeted wearily, just about managing to inject some politeness into his voice.

The blonde realised the redhead wanted to be alone but she could smell the whiskey on his breath and decided that solitude was probably not a good thing for him right now. The man did deserve his peace to grieve and no one could blame him for drinking but there was a deadness in his eyes that alarmed Calleigh and made her certain that he wasn't grieving right now or even trying to accept what had happened, he was simply drinking away his free time until he could submerge his mind in his work again and continue to avoid the life changing tragedy he was going through. "Evening Horatio," she greeted chirpily, "can I come in?"

He stepped back from the doorway wearily, fixing her a small, forced smile as he did. "Of course," he said, still forcing the politeness into his voice.

The redhead led the way up the hall slowly, pausing briefly as if deliberating over where was actually suitable to go before he led the way into his living room.

The living room's patio doors were open onto the wooden porch where a half-empty glass decanter and half-full whiskey glass sat on a round, wooden table portraying a sad and telling scene. As she followed, Calleigh took her chance to take in the living room and her first glimpse of Horatio's personal and private life. On a coffee table was a small stack of newspaper articles and notes from work, all seemingly referencing the Wonderland Murderer, and on a table beside the couch were photographs in silver, rectangular frames depicting Raymond Caine Senior, Raymond Caine Junior, and Yelina, and beside the photographs was an out of place Easter bunny teddy. The blonde couldn't help but stop and stare at the Easter bunny, when she read 'Happy Easter from NY' in black font on its blue baseball cap her suspicions only deepened.

Horatio kept walking, oblivious to Calleigh's prying, heading towards the open patio doors.

Calleigh followed her superior at a slower pace, noting the unused fireplace with a silver NYPD badge resting in a cracked glass box on its black top beside a tacky snow globe with the Statue of Liberty inside it, and a single photograph inside a horizontal, brass frame depicting all of them at Ridley's recent birthday party minus Frank, who had taken the picture. Calleigh felt tears budding at her eyes as she saw how close Horatio and Yelina were in the picture, their arms about each other, Yelina glancing slightly in the redhead's direction whilst he gave the camera a calm, warm smile.

"I broke the box when I learned about Ridley being Riddle," Horatio admitted coolly, "that badge was just a reminder of the cop that failed her." He was standing in the doorway, hand against a glass door as he leaned against it and stared back at Calleigh, mistaking where her gaze had fallen. "She only properly forgave me in Vegas." He gave a bitter smile at this. "It's probably the only reason why I don't completely regret the trip." He nodded and pointed at the snow globe with a wavering hand. "She bought the snow globe there, bad joke I guess." He laughed awkwardly, prompting Calleigh to glance his way.

The blonde gave her superior a sympathetic smile before she started walking towards him. "You went to Vegas to protect her," she reminded him, "and it was a good call," she assured, "the cartel came, just like you thought they would."

"I should have known when they couldn't get Ridley they would go for Emily," he said angrily before turning with a slight sway and continued out to the porch.

"You're not psychic," Calleigh chided, "and you couldn't be everywhere, there is always a risk with our jobs, we all know this and accept it, and Yelina knew it too."

Horatio collapsed in his seat ungracefully, crossed his right leg over his left and reached for his tumbler of whiskey before gesturing to the free seat opposite him with one hand. "It's a nice evening," he murmured.

Calleigh looked out to the burning amber sun setting on a gold kissed, endless ocean and sighed, it was a nice evening, what a pity she didn't feel like enjoying it. She occupied the seat opposite her boss and breathed in the sea air, she was a little surprised Horatio had a beach view just like her having assumed he was still attached to his city roots like Tim. "I am so sorry about what happened to Yelina," Calleigh said softly, "I'm sorry it happened, I'm sorry I couldn't protect her better, I'm sorry she was there, God Horatio I'm just sorry."

"It's not your fault," he retorted quietly, "it's mine. I knew about the mission, I didn't like it but I didn't do enough to stop it and if I hadn't been out of town it sure as hell wouldn't have happened. You and Eric certainly shouldn't have been involved, especially not twice. I'm sorry about that Calleigh, truly, after the first time you shouldn't-"

"We insisted," the blonde cut him off firmly with a serious stare as she reached out a hand to grasp his, holding his tumbler in midair, "and don't you apologise, Eric and I are adults and we have been at this job long enough to know the consequences. You are our boss Horatio but not our parent or guardian, okay?"

He gave her a sad, half-smile before glancing down at her hand and then back up at her. "Guardian," he repeated the word awkwardly, "I'm Raymond's now but I don't think I can be."

"You can," the blonde assured as she withdrew her hand, "and you will be good at it."

"I'm not so sure."

"No one is first time around," the blonde retorted.

"Do you want a drink?" Horatio suddenly offered.

Calleigh contemplated a refusal but realised experience with her dad made her too quick to scorn someone seeking solace in a glass, maybe trying to meet Horatio halfway would be a better approach, and so she nodded and said sternly, "just one."

Horatio nodded, downed what was left in his glass and stood up. "I'll get you a glass," he said calmly.

Calleigh nodded and watched him go. While she waited, she looked out at the setting sun and wondered if Yelina had ever sat on this porch with the redhead or if any woman had for that matter. For a confident, warm and successful man he seemed to cut a lonely figure. 'Maybe having Raymond could do him some good,' she thought to herself, 'if only to give him some company.' She wondered if any of her co-workers had ever seen his house, did Eric know an article about his involvement in a drugs' bust was resting on a bookshelf between Sleepy Hollow and The Hound of the Baskervilles, did Tim know there were several magazines about motorbikes in a magazine rack, undoubtedly purchased when Tim had gotten his bike because Horatio definitely didn't have an interest in them, and did Ridley know about the Easter bunny or the books she had recommended? At least now Calleigh knew about the photograph of her getting an award for her guns expertise, despite it being sandwiched between The Hound of the Baskervilles and a stack of books about drugs and cartels.

The redhead returned at last with another tumbler, which he filled along with his own. He lifted his and looked at Calleigh thoughtfully as she picked up her own. "I don't know what to say," he confessed.

"Let's toast to Yelina's memory then," Calleigh suggested, "and a hopeful future, because we all deserve that."

Horatio nodded grimly. "To Yelina then," he said quietly, "and a hopeful future."

They clinked their glasses but it was a hollow sound and Horatio was quick to take a gulp from his before setting it down hastily and turning away from the blonde just as quick.

"Horatio," she protested softly as she realised he was trying to hide his budding tears.

"Don't," he protested in a stern voice, "I just...need a moment." He shook his head wearily, seeming to clear the dampness in his eyes before he fixed a wounded stare on Calleigh. "All I keep thinking is, if I could do it again what would I do? Stay and risk Ridley to save Yelina or go to spare Ridley and doom Yelina? Yelina was family, my brother's wife, my nephew's mother, my...well I love her so much Calleigh and I knew her for years but I've only known Ridley for two. Ridley deserves a happy life though, she's already been hell through twice, once is enough for anyone, she shouldn't have to keep fighting for that. Yelina has a young son but Ridley's trying to have a relationship with Tim and that's been hell too, I don't know Calleigh, it's easy to say I didn't make that choice but I did, I chose to go to Vegas to save Ridley."

"Horatio you didn't know what would happen," the blonde reminded him, "you couldn't have. You didn't choose between Ridley and someone else, okay? You just chose to keep Ridley safe, that was it; the only choice was keeping her in danger or keeping her safe and you made the only sane choice."

"Ridley and someone else," he repeated bitterly with a grimace, "Ridley and Felicity Chase, was I making up for that choice? The choice to go down one prison instead of another, to find one imprisoned teenager instead of another?"

"Horatio it wasn't like that," the blonde said sternly, "you did not know. You can't blame yourself for those who don't get saved, none of us can carry that burden, we can try to help everyone but we're never going to completely succeed. Instead of carrying the guilt of those who are lost, who are injured, who die, we should live with the happiness from the knowledge of those we do help. That's all we can do Horatio, just keep trying to help, be proud of what we do achieve and keep going. Ridley doesn't want you wallowing in guilt, she's forgiven you, and I can promise you Yelina wouldn't want you wallowing in guilt either, it wasn't your fault, it was the cruel nature of her job."

The redhead sighed and nodded before taking another gulp from his glass. "I know, it's what I tell you guys when things go wrong, I know but it's hard to accept."

Tim gave Detective John Hagen a wary glance as the detective stopped him at the door of the laboratory. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?" Tim quipped tiredly.

John gave him a dark smile in response. "I got a call, I believe you guys wanted to know if anything related to a magician going by the Wonderful Llorrac came up."

Tim immediately looked interested.

"Well," John continued, "a girl called Rachel Bridges and four friends went out tonight and got stopped in the street by a man wearing a white rabbit mask who asked their names and invited them into a free show. She says the show was brief, lasted approximately twenty minutes and then they left to get coffee just ten minutes up the street. Only while they were walking, her best friend Connie Queens and Connie's boyfriend Jack Greendale vanished. It only happened just under an hour ago. Of course no one has any interest, no real time has passed but I thought you guys might."

"Fuck," Tim cursed eloquently. The names, Connie Queens and Jack Greendale, it was no coincidence, the guy couldn't have resisted that. "Where did this happen?" he demanded.

"Near South Beach in an abandoned theatre. Speedle if you're planning on taking this you can't go alone."

Tim rubbed the back of his neck with a frown, it was stiff and he was tired, it had been a long day but if there were lives at risk and no one else was reacting to it he knew he couldn't refuse. "I have to, this is our guy and I can guarantee he's got those kids."

"Well I have an address for the magician's show, in the old theatre, and the coffee house is just ten minutes away so it's a small radius for him to have acted. If you want to get your kit to process the scene I'll come with you in case something has happened and there are hostages. Unfortunately though I'm all you might get, we're short staffed as it is and after the business on the beach things are even worse."

Tim's frown deepened. "How did he get two?" he pondered darkly.

"You don't know that he did, what about the other CSIs?"

Tim shook his head. "I'll give Calleigh a text, and Horatio...he doesn't need this."

"What about Detective Moon?" Detective Hagen pried.

Tim shook his head. "No, she's been doing double shifts all week and minding that-" he hesitated over the word 'brat' and said hastily, "Yelina's son, she's fried, I don't want her out in this mess."

"Okay, well get what you need Speedle and I'll see you in the car park."

Tim shrugged before he headed back into the lab for his things. After packing his case and checking his camera for film he took out his gun and glanced down at it warily. He caught a flashback of a taunting rabbit mask before swallowing hard and opening the clip. It was fully loaded.

It took just over forty minutes for Tim and Detective Hagen to reach the scene. It was a rundown theatre that looked abandoned save for the cardboard sign half-hidden behind the theatre's rusting fence. Tim took a photograph before snapping on a pair of gloves and tugging it out. The font on the cardboard advertised 'The Wonderful Llorrac' in red paint. "Well this looks legit," Tim commented sarcastically as he set it down and took another photograph.

"A serial killer masquerading as magician," Tim summed up as he checked the gate for prints, of course there were a dozen partials, "guy should have stayed in Vegas."

They opened the gate carefully and headed up the weed covered stone path that led up to the worn, wooden building. They searched the path carefully but there was nothing to indicate a struggle and too much rubbish amongst the skeletal trees and weeds for them to tell what might be a clue and what might not. When they reached the double doors of the theatre they saw a wooden sign there that simply said, 'NO TRESSPASSING' in red paint.

"Now if you saw this, would you still go in?" Detective Hagen quipped sardonically. It was hanging on the left door just, sitting crooked on a rusting nail.

"What if they didn't see it?" Tim suggested as he took another photograph.

Detective Hagen looked to his colleague warily. "Well if they didn't then someone came back and hung it up."

They looked at the building again, the windows were dark and dirty and it appeared that whatever curtains were left were drawn, no clues there. Tim reached for the door handle carefully with a gloved hand and tested it as gently as he could, it turned. "Well it's still open but we should look for a back entrance. The coffee place is only ten minutes from here and there were two of them, lingering behind a group. It's a busy enough street; there can't have been a struggle, so what else? How did he get them?"

"Again Speedle, that's assuming he did," the taller man retorted warily. "It's just their friend who thinks it's suspicious, she says they weren't the type to just run off and she Connie's mobile several times and got no answer."

"Right, well I think he lured them back. It was over an hour ago now so it's possible he's already got their bodies in the trunk of a car but I don't think so. Look around, the streets are still busy but this place isn't, no one in their right mind is going to come here looking for a magic show. Either he's still here or he's only just left but either way we should probably call for back up and find another way in," Tim suggested. Catching the detective's wilting stare he added dryly, "humour me Detective Hagen. I got shot by this guy once I'm not eager for a repeat."

Detective Hagen knew Tim Speedle wasn't one for hunches so he decided to go along with it. It could be something, the something they had been praying for or it could be nothing but he knew with a serial killer they just couldn't risk it. So he tugged out his mobile and made the call before then drawing his gun and following the now armed Tim around the theatre in a low crouch.

When they reached the back of the building they found another entrance, through the basement but it had a rusted padlock on it, so they had to forgo the element of surprise and wait impatiently for back up. It came almost an hour later as no one was in a rush to follow up a CSI hunch despite a detective insisting on it and it was only when it arrived with Calleigh in tow that Tim guessed why anyone had bothered to show up at all.

"Hey," Detective Hagen greeted Calleigh hastily as he took a step towards her.

"Hi" the blonde retorted politely before she looked to Tim. "You think this could be our guy, he could be inside?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know for sure," he confessed, "there could be him, there could be hostages or there could be no one but we've wasted enough time out here debating the issue."

"Well let us make an entrance then," Detective Hagen suggested as he looked to the four cops that had come with Calleigh.

Tim and Calleigh watched as the officers checked the door before attempting an entrance, the doors weren't locked but something was definitely blocking them. Forgoing all caution they decided to break the lower right window, after that everything seemed to pass by quickly. After two made it through the window shards and removed the broken furniture pushed against the front doors everyone entered hastily and armed. The fact that someone had taken the trouble to block the doors gave an indication of a hostile body still inhabiting the building.

As it was a theatre it was a large building and they debated over where to go whilst Tim suggested the main performance area, certain the man's love for theatrics wouldn't disappoint them now. They moved quickly knowing he would be on the alert now thanks to the noise they had made but it was hard, the corridors were narrow, there were holes in the floor and the place was almost completely shrouded in darkness and they were relying on the officer's torch lights.

Tim entered the room first, his brown eyes went wide and his gun immediately went off as he let a yell.

"Tim!" Calleigh cried out in alarm.

"Jesus fuck!" Tim exclaimed widely as he turned about in alarm, the whites of his eyes showing as he pointing his gun but didn't know whether to shoot or not. Eyeless white rabbit faces seemed to be everywhere, facing him, mocking him, threatening him. He realised only when a beam of light struck off near what, highlighting a crack in the image that it was mirrors. Mirrors lined up on the aisles, carefully positioned to create the illusion of more than one. "Shit," he snapped as he realised there was just one mask, resting on a dummy as Calleigh revealed.

"Up there!" Detective Hagen snapped.

Tim finally looked ahead to the stage as he heaved out several deep breaths and tasted vomit. There it was, an abandoned show, no crude message, just a half-made display of a queen and her knave, sitting at a table sharing tarts. Both were tied to their chairs, the woman had a plastic gold crown on her head, the boy a heart shaped hat, it was a poor display but only because it had evidently been interrupted.

Calleigh hurried up the stage to the pair, neither was missing their eyes, the boy had several deep lacerations and foam at his mouth and the girl. The girl let out a low moan. "She's alive!" Calleigh yelled. "She's alive!"

It was late by the time Calleigh and Tim finished processing the scene correctly, that was all Tim knew. They headed back to the lab with their collection of evidence in silence, daring to be hopeful that they would finally have enough evidence to lead them to their guy.

"So how's Horatio?" Tim finally asked as he headed to the lab wearily, now thoroughly exhausted.

"He's okay," Calleigh answered carefully, "not great but not the worst either I suppose."

Tim nodded tiredly. "Yeah, it'll take time."

"What about you Speed, are you okay?"

Tim frowned at the blonde and grumbled, "fine Calleigh just tired."

The blonde frowned back at him. "Speed you panicked," she accused.

"I reacted," he corrected hotly.

Her frown deepened and she shook her head at him crossly. "Speed I get it alright, you got shot and it's still having an effect on you but admit it for crying out loud and get some help."

"I had help," he snarled, "I had therapy and I finished it, let it go."

"Damn it you're so stubborn sometimes and you wonder why Ridley gets on like that? It's irresponsible you know, you're not just risking yourself but others too, what if that bullet had ricocheted?"

Tim turned cold at that, recalling how Ridley had once did something very similar not that long ago. He swallowed hard and clenched his fists slightly before bowing his head in defeat. "Point taken," he said quietly. "I'm sorry Calleigh it's just hard, I think I'm over it then I see that fucking mask, it was in Vegas too, it just...it triggers something, brings it all back, I don't know."

Calleigh's clear blue gaze softened slightly and she nodded. "That's what post traumatic stress can be like, sometimes you think you're over it because it's not always there but it's actually just dormant waiting for something to activate it. You've faced the fear of death and the gun Tim, you're over that I think but now you need to face the fear the unknown man I think, that's the issue with the mask, no face for the guy, no identity, that's pretty scary. I mean sure we have a theory about his identity but nothing concrete. You know that's probably Ridley's problem too, she's never had an identity for the Suburban Legends killer, to her more than anyone he's like a bogeyman, more man than monster."

Tim paled slightly as he felt a surge of guilt at Calleigh's words. There was an identity for Ridley's attacker they just thought Ridley would be worse off knowing it. "Maybe," he said moodily.

"Just...look you can be reckless and stubborn but it paid off tonight, we've hopefully saved the girl and that's because of you, you reacted to the news Tim and you pursued it, I mean I criticise you for being that way and then it saves someone's life." Calleigh gave a tight, embarrassed smile at this. "I'm just afraid of a time when it won't save someone, it will endanger them or you so take care Speed, please."

"Right, I'll...look into therapy or something," the traces expert relented, "but right now I'm going home to bed."