This one isn't quite as long as recent chapters, but I sure did get it written quickly. :) Thank you all so much for the reviews (especially those who weren't logged in so I could reply!). I've been seriously putting off work and studying to write, so it's nice to know that at least if I'm slacking on adulting to write, other people are benefiting! Haha.
In what had become their typical Saturday night routine, Calleigh was helping tag-team bedtime at Sarah's. Tim was an anesthesiologist and worked Saturday nights at the hospital, and both Calleigh's need to spend time with her best friend and the realization that she should probably spend more time around kids given that she was about to have one had led to this Saturday night tradition. Sarah would take whoever was being most difficult, leaving Calleigh with the easier one(s).
Tonight, that meant that she'd ended up on the couch with the half-asleep two year old who'd been fixated on Paw Patrol when she'd arrived. But when she'd handed Grace her milk, the toddler had continued her nightly routine despite it being with a different person and crawled into her lap, turning her head so she could both drink and watch the flickering television.
As if that hadn't melted Calleigh enough, Grace had fallen asleep just a few minutes later, head on Calleigh's shoulder, one hand splayed against her chest. And that was how Sarah found them a little while later, emerging from the stairwell like she was returning from battle.
"Look, you're a natural," she said, smiling amusedly at the sight of her gun-toting, bad-guy-chasing, cop best friend cuddled up on the couch with her two-year-old.
Calleigh rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite hide the smile that was turning up the corners of her lips. She could really get used to this. "I think she was just that exhausted. What did you do to this poor kid?"
"She was at daycare half the day and then we went to the park." Sarah shrugged, moving toward them. "Want me to take her up?"
"I can do it, if you want," Calleigh offered, needing to get used to this. She carefully eased herself forward, scooting towards the edge of the couch while trying not to disturb Grace. Sarah smiled, because Calleigh was so new at this she had no idea that toddlers, at least this one, could sleep through freight trains. "Do I need to do anything else?"
"Nope, she's all ready. Just leave her door cracked." As Calleigh rose, Sarah tilted the bottle of wine on the corner of her kitchen counter – the one from the other night, actually – and took an inventory of its contents. "How much wine am I gonna need for this conversation?"
"A lot," Calleigh assured as she began to climb the stairs, eyes widening, "'cause you're gonna have to drink for the both of us and I could really use a glass or three."
After running downstairs after another bottle, Sarah poured the last of the first one into a glass and settled into her living room. Silencing the kids' show on the screen, she put her feet up and finally relaxed. As Calleigh returned, she eyed her, noting the way she settled in these days as she took a seat across from her at the other end of the couch: legs curled in, arm draped over her stomach.
"So…" Sarah began, already searching her for answers.
"Well, it was a very bad idea having him stay at my house," Calleigh said for starters, a little accusatory even though there was no way she'd have let him stay elsewhere regardless.
"Why?" Sarah asked, eyes sparkling mischievously at Calleigh over her glass of wine.
"Because I kissed him," Calleigh admitted, wincing as she recalled the sequence of events.
"That's it?" Sarah asked, a little disappointed.
"Yes, that's it."
"Okay, so you kissed him," Sarah repeated, shrugging. "That's a bad thing?"
"Yes, it's a bad thing," she assured, earning her a very skeptical, very questioning look from Sarah. "Nothing was supposed to happen. I just… I kinda jumped because I felt the baby move, and I could tell he was keeping his distance. I didn't think he could feel anything that early, but I didn't want him to miss out...so I let him try to feel."
Sarah nodded, pursing her lips as she tried not to smile. Of course this had started innocently and spiraled.
"And then when we were together before just kept running through my mind, and I couldn't think with him touching me and-" She stopped short, shrugging and shaking her head like she was at a loss. She was so serious, and so Sarah tried to hide the amused smile spreading across her lips.
"And you don't think that means something?" Sarah asked, raising a brow as she swirled her glass.
"What, that I'm attracted to him?" She could admit that; she could also admit that back in her state of mind yesterday, she'd have let things go as far as he'd let them because she was attracted to him, because he was sweet and amazing to her and this baby and that made her even more attracted to him.
"And that's all?" Sarah pushed. "You don't have feelings for him?"
Calleigh opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She didn't know what she had for him, but she definitely couldn't lie and say that she didn't feel something for him – not to herself and not even to Sarah.
"It's complicated," she finally said, running an unsure hand through her hair and tossing it to one shoulder. "It's not like we've dated. It's not like I know that risking our relationship, our careers, our team would all be worth it."
"Then shouldn't you find out?"
"I don't know," Calleigh said, conflicted. "It's not just our lives. It's our team members, our lieutenant's, the entire department," she continued, then retracting her arm a little to press her hand over her stomach. "Hers. I mean, my parents stayed together way too long for the kids and it was a mess, especially for us." She looked to the side, halfway rolling her eyes as she shook her head. "We'd be just starting to try to figure things out between us as we bring her into the world. I don't want some of her earliest memories to be us figuring out it wasn't going to work, us splitting up…"
"Okay," Sarah said, following her train of thought but playing the devil's advocate. "It's very sweet that you're putting her first...but on that note, what if it goes the other way? What if you're happy together and everything's great? If there's a chance that you could give her a happy, calm, loving home with both of you in the same place...don't you think you should at least try?"
That both tugged at her heart and made anxiety blossom in her chest, because even on the days her weakness for him felt especially strong, days like yesterday, she'd never even let herself go there. And then she recalled his words, not as blunt or future-facing, but eerily similar.
"You sound like him," she said softly, not answering. Fingers raking through her hair, she let her head rest in her palm, elbow propped against the cushion of the couch.
"Yeah, well, you know I love you, Cal, but I'm Team Eric on this one." Sarah sighed, tilting her glass back as she took a long drag of wine. "I get it. I mean, I kinda don't, but I understand where you're coming from. It's just that some things are bigger than work and policies and careers. Family is one of them."
Calleigh exhaled and turned, pressing her fingers to her mouth thoughtfully. Family. There was that word again. It had always been elusive to her, and dream as she might, she just couldn't picture a world where that wasn't still true.
One month later
As she adjusted the tote bag on her shoulder, Calleigh dug her cell phone from her pocket and checked it for the millionth time that afternoon. No response.
It was more than a little strange, and as she left the FBI building, walking through the courtyard and toward the parking lot, a sinking anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach.
They'd distanced themselves a little – a lot, in comparison to before – mostly him for obvious reasons, but she'd also eased up her inclination to text him about anything non-baby, and even a few things that were. With a little distance, she'd felt more and more terrible and guilty about putting him in a position where he'd literally had to turn her down in order to preserve his conscience or his heart, whatever it had been.
But whenever she had sent him a text, especially about the baby, he'd been pretty quick to respond. Now, however, as she checked their message thread to be sure, she only saw her messages from earlier: a photo from this afternoon's sonogram, a video, and her message: "24 weeks, 1 day. Baby's good, I'm good, no gestational diabetes from all those milkshakes. :)"
Sighing as she settled into her car, she told herself that he was probably stuck in the field or on an evidence recovery dive where cell service and and free time were both hard to come by. She made the first few turns of her drive home, then hopping onto the freeway and coasting along. Hearing the ringing of her phone above the radio, she grabbed her phone, ignoring the panic in her chest as Natalia's name flashed across her screen.
Pressing the call button and lifting it to her ear, she managed a shaky, "Natalia. Hey."
"Calleigh…"
She could hear it in her voice already and she gripped the steering wheel harder, turning her fingers around it.
"Eric's been shot."
Despite her whole body going numb, her skin felt oddly hot and tears prickled at her eyes. "Oh my God. How bad? Where is he?"
"He's-" Natalia stopped short, her voice shaking as she collected herself. "It was a gunshot wound to the head." She rattled the words off quickly, like it was the only way she could get through them. "It's bad, but they were rushing him into surgery. He's at Dade Memorial."
Natalia paused and Calleigh tried to think through the shock that was settling into her system. She needed to be in Miami now, and she hit the gas just a little as she passed the one-mile sign for her exit.
"I'll let you know when I hear anything else, H is on his way to the hospital and I'm about to leave. I just…" She stopped again, not knowing what else to say, and Calleigh suddenly knew what was going through her head. She'd known something was going on between them; she just didn't know what. She wasn't completely calling her as just a coworker; she was calling her as...whatever they were to each other. "I just wanted to let you know as soon as possible."
"Thank you," Calleigh said gratefully. Despite the shock flooding her system, a few tears managed to escape her eyes. She blinked them away to keep her vision clear, and then said without question, "I'm coming."
After the longest plane and cab ride of her life, Calleigh was racing through the halls of Dade Memorial on a mission. She'd been here so many times to question suspects and witnesses that she knew it like the back of her hand: cut left to the elevators, third floor, take a right, then a left to the trauma center. She was on autopilot as she made her way to him, already searching the halls and windows of the wing before she'd even stopped at the desk.
The clock on the wall read 1:52 in the morning. Visiting hours were long gone, and Ryan, Natalia, and Horatio had gone home for the evening a while after Eric's mother had arrived, knowing they had done all they could do and that he was in good hands. Calleigh was tempted to try to comb the halls until she found him, evading questioning hospital staff, but the woman at the desk was a little too sharp for her to slip by.
"Miss? Can I help you find someone?"
"Eric Delko," Calleigh said quickly. "I think he's out of surgery?"
The woman's hands flew over the keyboard, her eyes dancing over the screen. "He's been out of the OR recovery wing for about two hours," she said, a breath of relief escaping Calleigh's lungs and fresh tears springing to her reddened eyes – because he was alive, because he'd made it out of surgery, because there was a chance. And then the woman's eyes settled over the clock before asking, "Are you family?"
"Um…" She furrowed her brows, wanting to laugh dryly at that damn word. She was about to pull the cop card – something she actually hated to do when she wasn't working unless she had a really good reason – but a voice from the hall saved her.
"Calleigh?" It was soft and nurturing, with a thick Cuban accent clinging to the edges of her name.
She looked up to find Eric's mother staring at her. They'd met once or twice, bumping into each other in the MDPD lobby when she'd come to meet Eric for lunch. And then she'd been at Mari's funeral, standing beside Eric the entire day like his lifeline while he was his mother's. But given the circumstances, she wasn't even sure she'd remember her. And she definitely wasn't sure how much Eric would've told her by now.
But as Clorinda's eyes danced over her, lingering on her midsection, she knew that she knew. Of course Eric had told her. And then Clorinda's eyes drew over her features, taking in her red-rimmed green eyes, fresh tears, and tousled blonde hair.
"She's with us," Clorinda said decidedly to the desk attendant. She came closer, laying a gentle hand on Calleigh's back as she ushered her down the hall.
Calleigh's lips tightened in gratitude, but she didn't quite have the words right now. Something passed between their eyes, a silent understanding. "How is he?" she asked, the only thing she wanted to know.
"He's okay," Clorinda began as she led her to his room. "Stable for now. The bullet fragmented and caused some bleeding, but they were able to stop it. He's not out of the woods though." Her eyes welled up again, and she stopped outside the door of room 321, hesitating. "He has a lot of swelling and they don't know how he'll be when he wakes up, if he wakes up…"
"He will," Calleigh assured, suddenly positive. Because she simply couldn't imagine a world without him in it. "He has to."
Clorinda touched her arm, both gratefully and supportively. "Go see him," she urged, nodding to the door. "I was just going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?"
"No, thank you." She fixed her eyes on that door, feeling a supportive squeeze to her arm before she entered. Turning the handle and pushing the door open, Calleigh braced herself as the sight of him overwhelmed her with worry. He was hooked up to more machines than she could count: an IV drip, heart monitors, and oxygen, at the very least. Tubes were scattered across his body, and a white bandage covered the left side of his head. Those brown eyes that always seemed to see right through her were closed, but his chest was rising and falling soundly on its own – something she took comfort in as she took a seat beside him.
Pulling the chair right up to his bed, she delicately took his hand in hers as her eyes flickered over his face, silently hoping for some sort of response.
"Hey," she said softly, weaving their fingers together and smoothing her thumb over the back of his hand. As she continued to take him in – wrapped in bandages, bruising near the top of his head, a million wires leaving his body – another round of tears welled in her eyes. She lifted their hands, pressing her lips to the back of his as she closed her eyes tightly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, for everything. For not being here, for taking herself thousands of miles away, for not knowing what she wanted with him, for not knowing how to trust her feelings as readily as he did.
/~/
Clorinda cradled the warm cup of vending machine coffee in both hands, slowly walking back to her son's room. She'd taken a long walk around every floor of the hospital that was open to her at this hour, both needing a break from praying over the rhythmic beats – a constant reminder that her son was hanging on – and also wanting to give Calleigh some time with him.
She had no idea how Calleigh felt about her son. She knew that it was complicated. She knew that from years of Eric mentioning her, they were close. She knew that from the way his eyes had constantly searched for her at Mari's funeral and their hands had often found one another's, they were very close; her son obviously drew strength and comfort from her. She knew that when he'd told her Calleigh was pregnant, he'd had the weight of the world on his shoulders and it had very little to do with the fact that someone he wasn't involved with was pregnant with his child and a lot to do with the fact that he absolutely adored Calleigh and that baby. More than he should care about a coworker and friend. More than he should adore someone he wasn't dating.
That was all that had mattered when she'd seen Calleigh in that hallway – the way her son felt about this woman, regardless of her own feelings and intentions. But when she'd taken in the desperation in her reddened eyes, she'd known that there was more to the story.
And now, as she peeked through the cracked door and found Calleigh's hand wrapped intimately around her son's, her other arm rested beneath her head as she laid it on the bed with her forehead pressed against Eric's arm, she knew that there was much, much more.