A/N: At last. What you've all been waiting for. Spread across the next couple chapters. (Read with the slightest caution. Rated T. This is Eric and Calleigh, after all…)

Chapter 8

Calleigh was waiting for him on the sidewalk when Eric finally made it out of the building. She could barely look at him.

"So, I guess… do you want to follow me to my place?" Eric asked awkwardly.

Her eyes darted momentarily to his face before she nodded and looked away. "Meet you there."

And that's how they left P.D. The commute to Eric's condo was excruciating. Once in the safety of her car, Cal let the dam burst. She cried for seventeen minutes of her twenty minute drive, cried until she had nothing left.

She couldn't banish the images, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't drown out the sounds or keep the goosebumps from rippling across her fair skin. Flashes of the forgotten past blurred Calleigh's vision, so much so that once she pulled into her best friend's driveway, she could hardly believe she made it there without crashing her car.

It started with a look. The look, the feel of his lips against hers for the first time. The way he touched her, the way her stomach tightened and her head spun and her spine tingled. The way he tasted.

A blur of skin. A trail of kisses.

Above all else, his scent was etched into her memory. She could still smell him. They'd worked an arson case earlier in the day, and he smelled faintly like a campfire, the kind of campfire that reminded her of hot summer nights when she was sixteen, reminded her of young lust and first encounters, reminded her of freedom and excitement and the thrill of the unknown.

Crash of the front door, steam of the shower.

It wasn't planned, or even expected. It wasn't alcohol-induced or brought on by some sense of out–of-control desire. It simmered, festered, plotted its attack and waited for the precise moment they let their guards down. It took them completely by surprise.

Lungs begged for air. Blur after blur.

Somehow, even in that moment, it never felt like a rash decision. Calleigh supposed it was because their collision seemed like an inevitability, even though neither one of them (she knew because they talked about it that night) had ever considered it seriously. Looking back years later, Calleigh recognized that statement for what it was: totally absurd.

His whispers in her ear, his fingers in her hair.

She had considered it, in the dark recesses of her mind. Had thought about it, their mutual attraction. She just never understood it, and she gave up trying to understand it long before they ever kissed in that bar. Eric was her best friend, and while she would never profess to comprehend the complicated web that was their relationship, Calleigh knew at least that. Anything else was a distant, irrational, ridiculous, dangerous concept. It was a million things, but it was never a possibility.

Toes curling, against her will.

A dim restaurant, deafening music that drowned the crowd and shrunk their world to two, an innocent brush of his hand on her shoulder, and that look. Those goddamned eyes! It took so little to spark the inferno between them.

And an inferno it had been.

Calleigh sat in her car and beat her fists against the steering wheel. Would she have to claw out her eyes to stop seeing him? Tear at her skin to stop feeling him? I can't go in there like this.

She crumpled, beaten, into her seat and let it all wash over her. She'd fought for so long, and she was tired.

Eric kissed her softly at first, but electricity shot through them, desire crept from its hiding place and roared to life. It was controlled, barely. Before she knew what was happening, he threw down some cash, grabbed her hand, and they were in the parking lot. His body pressed urgently against hers, pinning her to the side of his car as he explored the depths of her mouth with need and passion.

Calleigh shivered at the thought and dropped her head to the steering wheel. He had needed her; they had needed each other.

The drive was silent. Eric helped her out of the car, and the moment her feet touched the ground he had her in his arms. He walked them backward to his door, fumbled with the lock, and they fell inside as one. He kicked the door shut behind him and they stumbled to the couch.

She forgot nothing, not a single detail, of that night. How Eric's hands memorized every last inch of her curves. His lips found spots on her body that she never knew existed. Sitting in her car thirty feet from him, Calleigh felt the savageness in her chest all over again, the one that made her flip them over on the couch and reach for his belt. Their shirts were already on the floor, along with her slacks. Three years later she closed her eyes and could feel him carry her to his bedroom, as if it had happened only a moment ago. She was lost.

When they made love, Eric never took his eyes off hers. Calleigh could see in his chocolate orbs the same look which she knew was echoed in hers. Four eyes filled with sadness. Deep, resounding, empty sadness that penetrated through the jet black of desire.

Because this was all they could have. This night, this one night together.

Eric refused to let the finality of that fact ruin the time he spent with Calleigh. He wasted nothing, took nothing for granted. Something passed between them and they silently agreed to shut out the world and just feel. Feel everything, without restraint.

Calleigh fought back more tears. They had agreed. They'd agreed to move on, because they were both painfully aware of the realities that surrounded them. The only problem was, neither Eric nor Calleigh ever did move on.

Mostly, they could forget. But not always. The casual contact and close proximity that their jobs demanded kept the visions of that night alive in their minds. Mostly, their friendship was more important. But not always. Sometimes when they looked at each other, they couldn't look away, and they knew… knew that the storm in their eyes was the longing that never totally left them alone. Knew somewhere deep down that friendship was never enough for them, but it had to be.

Calleigh wasn't sure that was true anymore. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. Speedle's an asshole, she thought acidly as she stared out the windshield at nothing. She couldn't see anything but Tim's damn photographs.

The top ten signs you're in love with your best friend? Cal repeated bitterly to herself. I only ever needed one.

"It's too late, Speed," she whispered tearily, finally climbing out of her car and steeling herself to meet her fate, her fate in the form of a 10,000-piece puzzle she called her best friend.

Eric beat Calleigh to his condo by five minutes. She spent another ten sitting in his driveway. He didn't blame her for fighting this. A small part of him wanted to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The only thing keeping him from making an escape was the knowledge that no matter how far or how hard he ran, he could never outrun his past with Calleigh. He didn't want to, which scared him more than anything else.

He sank against the kitchen counter and buried his face in his hands. I can't do this, he thought.

What, exactly, did they expect to happen after they watched that DVD? They already knew what Speedle was telling them; saying the words out loud wouldn't change anything.

That isn't true, Eric groaned. He knew it wasn't true. Saying the words out loud made all the difference in the world. Seeing himself with Calleigh from the outside looking in… it had already put a hell of a lot in perspective for him. He'd convinced himself that nothing was wrong, but the truth was, his entire world was one giant disaster.

He was living a lie. Eric came to work every day to the sight of a woman he loved more than life itself. For three years his love for Calleigh was nourished solely by what he felt for her as a friend. Three years after that, he still attributed the strength of his attachment to her to the unbreakable bond of their friendship. Yes, they'd shared an incredible experience, and it had transformed the way he looked at her. But it was in the past. A fleeting moment.

His act was Shakespeare-worthy. Others could see the transparency of his façade, but they never guessed at the reasons behind the carefully constructed walls. Eric did love Calleigh as his best friend. But he also loved her the way a man loves a woman.

The way a hero loves a heroine, Eric chuckled mirthlessly to himself. Damn Calleigh and her chick-flicks…

Fine, he could admit it. Are you happy, Speed? I love her. His confession opened the flood gates to the memories he'd kept at bay for three years. He'd fought for so long, and he was tired.

Calleigh's breath tickled his neck as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his blinds. Her blonde locks splayed haplessly across his pillow and he longed to feel the silky strands one more time. He couldn't stop touching her. As she slept, he ran his fingertips up and down, up and down her spine and just… watched her. The goosebumps that dotted her skin while she dreamed, the unconscious little shiver.

Their time was running out. He had to wake her up, wanted to see her in the morning light. He whispered in the stillness. "Cal?"

"Hmm…"

"Querida."

"Mmm." Sleepy eyes. A lazy, drawn-out kiss. His straying hands and her sigh of pleasure. Sighs that turned to moans, moans that turned to cries. And that look in her eyes…

For months, not a day went by that Eric didn't wonder what might have happened if Speedle hadn't called that afternoon. 'H needs you at a crime scene, and have you heard from Calleigh?'

She was in his arms. All night, all morning, all the way past lunch. Speed called at 1:23pm, Eric remembered precisely, and he and Calleigh were still together, content to stay where they were and forget that anything existed but the two of them. Reality barged in and stole away meager hope. Would she have stayed the rest of the day? Would she have stayed the rest of forever?

It didn't matter, Eric thought. It doesn't matter.

They had agreed to never mention that night again. They both returned to work and pretended like nothing ever happened. They pretended, and they kept pretending, until most of the time they actually believed it was true.

They couldn't pretend anymore. As Eric heard the familiar knock at his door, he swore that if Speed wasn't already dead he would gladly do the job himself.