Note: I'm writing too quickly to respond to all my reviews like normal, but thank you thank you THANK YOU. They mean so much to me as I continue to neglect my adult responsibilities. I forgot to mention last time that yep, I decided to follow a little bit of the season 5 Eric storyline, but not toooo much. This has been angsty enough as it is. ;)

"You need to get some rest," were the last words Clorinda had said to Calleigh before leaving the hospital after her 14-hour stint there. But despite that, despite the hours she'd been gone to shower, eat though she barely could, and sleep fitfully, when Clorinda returned to the hospital that afternoon, she'd found Calleigh still there. Her arms were resting on Eric's bed, folded so she could lay her head down. Her forehead was pressed against her arms, head turned slightly and eyes closed, and if her rhythmic breathing were any indication, she'd actually fallen asleep there.

It was no position to sleep in, especially not for a woman five to six months pregnant, and especially not after a long day, followed by a long flight, followed by an all-nighter at a hospital.

"Calleigh," Clorinda called softly, touching a hand to her back.

She startled quickly, taking in a deep breath and drawing her eyes over Eric for any sign of change. Finding none, and slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings the more she woke, she turned toward Clorinda, straightening her half-asleep arms.

"Calleigh," Clorinda said again, catching her very red eyes. "You need to go home and sleep."

Her eyes softened at the maternal concern from her, not used to it at all, but her eyes quickly flitted over Eric worriedly. She didn't want to leave. She hadn't been here when it happened, and she wanted to be here when he woke up. She wanted him to know she was here.

"It could be days," Clorinda said regretfully yet firmly, reading her gaze. Her eyes fell to Calleigh's stomach, where her long-sleeved light sweater that was much more appropriate for Seattle stretched over her growing bump. "You need to rest, and eat."

"Okay," Calleigh agreed softly. Only because she was pregnant. Only because his mother was here with him and her eyes were growing bleary with sheer exhaustion.

She let Clorinda lead her into the hall and toward the waiting area, where Natalia and Ryan were waiting. Calleigh hadn't even known they were here again in her state, either too asleep or too dazed to notice.

"Calleigh," Natalia breathed out, beginning to reach for her, then hesitating as she took in her changing figure with wide eyes. She recovered quickly, sweeping Calleigh into a hug and feeling her arms just barely wrap around her.

"Do you think you could take her home?" Clorinda asked Natalia, holding her gaze meaningfully until she caught on.

"Sure," she said simply, eyes dancing between Calleigh and Eric's mother, attempting to put the pieces of the very complicated, very challenging Eric and Calleigh puzzle together.

Clorinda smiled gratefully, touching Calleigh's arm affectionately before she returned to her son.

"Here, let's get you home," Natalia said, grabbing her purse and beginning to lead Calleigh out of the lobby – but not before exchanging a wide-eyed, raised-brow look with Ryan.

Once they were in the elevator, Calleigh leaned back against the wall, gripping the railing behind her as her exhaustion fully hit her. Despite the daze she was in, and despite her inability to focus on anything but Eric, she realized an awkward silence had settled between her and her usually equally bubbly coworker.

A little bit of what was going on had to be obvious – the pregnancy, the fact that she'd barely left Eric's side since the moment she got here, his mother's protectiveness of her… She didn't owe Natalia an explanation, especially right now, but they were coworkers and friends.

She swallowed hard, watching the floors tick by. "Whatever you're thinking...it's probably true," she admitted, giving Natalia answers to all the questions she wouldn't dare ask right now.

Despite the circumstances, a smile lifted the corner of Natalia's lips as her eyes trailed over Calleigh and she shrugged. She had a million questions, but none of that mattered right now. "I was just thinking you make a surprisingly cute pregnant lady."

Calleigh met her eyes as her lips tightened in a grateful attempt at a smile. And in her delirious, overwhelmed state, the slight crack at her emotions had everything rushing back to her. The sting of tears burned her eyes again, but she had no more left to spill.

/~/

After a stop for take-out from one of her favorite lunch spots and a short drive to Bal Harbour, she was home. It was more comforting than she expected, not just the temporary home she'd grown mostly used to but home. Where they'd been together. He'd been here countless times for cups of coffee and drinks after long days, and now that she was here she realized she probably had a memory for him in nearly every room of her house.

Oddly, the memories didn't haunt her at all; they just made her feel closer to him while here.

She made her way upstairs in a daze, stripping day-and-a-half old clothes from her body and slipping into a t-shirt. She'd thought she wouldn't be able to sleep at all, but as she climbed into bed the last 24 hours caught up to her. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to the complete and utter exhaustion, but not before the first time he'd been here and the first time she'd realized there was a dangerous tension developing between them flashed through her mind.

They were at her place. She'd insisted, because they'd been on an evidence recovery dive off the coast at Haulover Park when they'd noticed a suspiciously empty boat anchored about 200 yards off. Eric had encountered the suspect underwater while diving, also searching for the gun they'd been after, and he had a nick from the perp's spear gun to prove it.

When he'd emerged gushing blood from a hole in the shoulder of his wetsuit, she'd worried he'd need stitches. He'd refused, knowing a visit to the ER would set them back even further. So instead she'd insisted on running by her house, which was a stone's throw from the park, stocked with first aid supplies, and their quickest option. He'd sighed and acquiesced, nodding and rolling his eyes a little as they began the short boat ride to shore. They'd hopped into her Hummer, and when they were pulling up to a gorgeous little house in Bal Harbour a short drive later, he realized her house actually was like 5 minutes from their dive site.

And it was lovely inside and out, a mix of the Cuban and Spanish influences that pervaded much of Miami along with her touches of southern charm. It was very Calleigh.

They'd known each other for a year and a half now and he had to admit that he was a little entranced by her. She was very attractive, very put together, and somehow both completely outgoing while very very closed off and private. And now he was in her home, seeing a part of her he had a feeling most people rarely saw. She had a little smile curving the corners of her lips upward as she watched him take in her things, briefly wondering what his own bachelor pad looked like.

"Can I change real quick?" he asked, holding up his spare clothes as she led him to the bathroom. He was still in his now dry wetsuit, something she was actively trying not to think about because the rather attractive muscles in his legs, shoulders, and back were very obvious in it.

"Yeah, of course." She stopped in the hall. "Just leave your shirt off."

He turned back to her before he closed the door, grinning at her forwardness and suddenly making this awkward when it didn't need to be at all. She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she pressed her lips together. "So I can get to your shoulder, Romeo," she clarified, leaning against the wall as he closed the door and she waited. A moment later he opened the door again, a pair of his normal slacks riding low on his hips, his torso every bit as shirtless as requested.

She made herself focus on the task at hand as she grabbed her first aid kit from the cabinet and hopped up on the sink, but out of the corner of her eye his sculpted chest and abdomen were tempting her to look. She bit her lip, and luckily he interpreted it as a cute concentration habit as she apologetically rubbed an alcohol swab over the gash at the top of the back of his shoulder.

The silence between them suddenly felt awkward, and she soon filled it with, "Well, I think you can get by without stitches."

A bit of fresh blood was still springing to the surface, so she pressed some gauze against it, applying pressure.

"Can you hold this?" she asked a moment later, and his hand quickly reached up to take over for hers. But instead of trading off in sync, his fingers brushed against hers as she let go. She pulled back a little too quickly, and a smirk played across his lips at her readiness to put some distance between them.

As she put antibiotic cream over a fresh pack of gauze, his eyes drifted around the bathroom, taking in the beautifully tiled shower and floors against the light yellow paint, the mix of modern and rustic decor.

"Your house is gorgeous," he let out.

"Thanks," she said proudly, because she was pretty dang proud of it. "I did most of it myself."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," she repeated, comfortably moving his hand aside to press the fresh gauze against it. "I'm pretty handy with grout and a nail gun." She unwrapped an ace bandage, taking the small metal clip between her teeth while her hands busied themselves with wrapping the bandage snugly around his shoulder and the top of his arm.

Eric chuckled. "I'll bet you are," he said, and for some reason a little joking banter that would've been nothing at work suddenly felt overwhelmingly flirtatious – especially when he just so happened to look at her right when she was retrieving the little clip from her mouth.

She looked away, clearing her throat now that she'd secured the bandage. "Good to go," she confirmed.

"Thanks," he said a little sheepishly as he looked back to check out her handiwork and then extended his arm to make sure he could still move around well enough. "Back to work?"

He stood, slipping his arms into his shirt, and she took the moment his eyes would be shielded as he pulled the shirt over his head to notice the way the muscles in his abdomen and chest rippled as he did. Calleigh swallowed hard, snapping her kit shut. "Back to work," she assured, jumping down from the counter.

She paused, waiting for him to leave the now rather warm and stuffy bathroom, but he was doing the same for her. He swept his arm forward in a ladies first type gesture and she smiled, brushing past him. As she did, he couldn't help but draw his eyes over her, suddenly very aware of the little slip of skin revealed at her hip where her holster had made her tank top ride up, not quite meeting her black pants.

She turned back around without warning, making a quip about how he owed her lunch now, and she really had to try to not be affected by the way she'd caught his gaze snap back up to her face. God, he was trouble, she realized, shaking her head as she grabbed her keys from the table. And she was determined to stay far, far away.

Maybe, she thought a second later, when she was holding her front door open for him and he was going on and on about "taking her to lunch" because owing her lunch had somehow turned into that. She grinned and rolled her eyes as she locked the door behind them. Maybe she didn't want to stay away.

It had been days of this: hospital, quick food, shower, crash at home for a few hours, repeat. There had been no change. The scans showed his swelling was slowly decreasing, he had no additional bleeding, and his heart rate was steady; his brain was just still protecting itself and he hadn't regained consciousness yet.

Today, Eric's mother had resumed her grandchild babysitting duties and Calleigh had brought her work with her to the hospital. Sitting on the poorly cushioned bench beneath the window in his room, she had her FBI-issued laptop balanced on her lap and a warm cup of tea placed on the ledge behind her. She reached up and behind her to retrieve it, taking a few sips while her eyes surveyed Eric for the millionth time that day before her fingers returned to the keyboard.

She was halfway through another paragraph in the report she was writing when she thought she heard his voice. Her eyes darted up, watching his own eyes flutter as he tried to open them, blinking at the daylight after days of darkness.

"Calleigh," he rasped out, loud enough for her to hear this time.

She practically threw her laptop aside, moving to settle into the chair beside his bed. "Hey," she whispered back in awe, eyes welling with tears as they fixated on him. Her hand quickly found his, wrapping around it and smiling when he threaded his fingers with hers this time. His eyes had finally adjusted to the light, and despite being in complete discomfort between the throbbing in his head, the dryness in his throat, and the stiffness in his limbs, his lips curved upward at the sight of her.

She was much more pregnant than the last time he'd seen her, the bump of her stomach now becoming quite obvious on her small frame.

"Look at you," he said, all boundaries and transgressions temporarily forgotten in this moment. "You look good." His voice cracked at the end and he coughed a little, wincing at the pain it sent through his head.

She wordlessly fetched him her water bottle, helping him take a sip. "So do you," she said, not a lie at all because seeing him haggard but awake was a million times better than his unconscious state the past several days. Her eyes danced over him worriedly, her free hand reaching up to brush away the tears that were spilling from her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching behind his bed to push the red button to call for a nurse. She placed a hand on his shoulder as though needing to inspect him, to feel that he was really awake and moving. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got shot in the head," he admitted, swallowing hard as he tried to move his stiff body.

She squeezed his hand tightly, reality crashing back down on her as she surveyed his body. He had been shot in the head, and the doctor warned them there were a million things that could've been wrong when he woke: motor skills, memory, speech. So far, he seemed miraculously fine.

"What happened?" he asked, reaching up to carefully touch the bandage secured around one side of his head. His arms had a few scrapes and bruises from falling against the pavement, but otherwise he seemed in one piece.

"The bullet only grazed your skull, but it fragmented," she explained, eyeing his bandage. "They had to go in and stop some bleeding. You had some swelling, which was what kept you out for a few days."

"Days?" he asked, raising a brow

"Three."

He blinked and shook his head, unable to believe he was out that long.

Calleigh tightened her hold on his hand, a fresh round of tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Eric," she began softly, drawing his gaze back to hers. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"Hey, it's okay," he assured, thumb sweeping over the back of her hand. She opened her mouth to continue, eyes dancing between his and their hands, but two nurses suddenly rushed in, effectively interrupting them as they swiftly began to check vitals and ask him a million questions. Calleigh squeezed his hand – a silent promise that they weren't done – and backed out of their way.

"I'm gonna call your mom," she said, retrieving her cell phone from the bench. It took a moment to register for him, but in between a nurse shining a light in his eyes and asking him about his vision, his eyes darted back to her.

"My mom? Since when you do and my mom talk?"

"Oh, since about three days ago." She shrugged as she left the room, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

Eric scoffed, shaking his head as a smile of his own spread across his lips. Something about two of the women he cared about most from very different parts of his life uniting felt a little concerningly diabolical to him.

/~/

Calleigh returned to a much more peaceful room than the one she'd left. Nurses gone and leaving him to rest, Eric had his eyes closed again, but she could tell it was from conscious rest this time. She closed the door slowly and carefully, trying not to disturb him, but given that he wasn't asleep anyway, his eyes quickly fluttered open as she returned.

"Hey," he said softly, letting her know he was awake.

"Hey." She smiled, letting the door click with a little less care. Striding over to him, she rested her hand on his bed and met his eyes. "Your mom's on her way. What'd they say?"

"They said everything looks pretty good," he answered disbelievingly. "My tracking is a little off in my right eye, but apparently one of the fragments was close to an optic nerve, so it could improve as it heals...my reaction times are a little slow, too, but I just woke up. They paged the surgeon and a neurologist."

"That's good," she said, eyes flitting over him again in awe.

His eyes softened on her then and he opened his mouth to speak again, treading carefully. He definitely wasn't assuming anything, and he really didn't want to bring up the rather explosive and complicated topic of how they felt about one another; he was just concerned.

"They said you'd been here nonstop, sleeping here…" he began, definitely leaving out the part where they called her his wife and then his girlfriend and he didn't have the heart to correct them twice. "You gotta take care of yourself, Calleigh," he reminded her, eyes dancing over stomach. "You two doing okay?" Despite everything, despite being shot and unconscious for days up until 20 minutes ago, he was quick to remember, though his words were a little slower and softer than usual. "How was the appointment?"

"We're good," she assured, eyes growing emotional over the fact that here he was, recovering from a gunshot, and one of his first concerns had been them. She eased her weight onto her hand that was still resting beside him, using it as leverage to lift herself up to sit beside him. "You really should've checked your text messages before getting shot," she joked, easing a bit of the emotional tension that had suddenly filled the room.

Picking up the phone from the bedside table with all of his belongings, she handed it to him and watched him scroll through. He smiled as he took in the photo – another picturesque profile of her curled up in there, her legs longer, her features growing more and more defined. And then he played the video, the now familiar whooshes and thump-thump-thump of her heartbeat on the sonogram filling the space between them. She'd been especially active at the appointment, arms and legs flailing around, and he chuckled a little at the constant movement.

"She's having a party in there." The sound stopped and he replayed it, further taking in every movement.

"Yeah, tell that to my insides."

As though right on cue, Calleigh smiled and pressed her hand to the side of her stomach, feeling the newest development: a little thump of a foot against her touch. Given what had transpired before, maybe she should've been a little more hesitant to curl her fingers around his wrist and guide his hand to her body again. But things were different now; something had shifted. She could feel it, and although he was quick to deny it, he could, too.

She pressed his hand over where she'd last felt her and then her eyes drifted to his, watching, waiting for his reaction. She knew the moment he felt her not only because she could feel the movement herself, but because his eyes softened and darted up to hers. Smiling, she let go of his hand, letting him have his moment with her as he relaxed into his pillows.

"Guess she's pretty glad you're okay, too," Calleigh said, the relieved smile that spread across her lips having nothing on his.