A/N: I worked on this chapter off and on for weeks, then trashed the whole thing and wrote this in an afternoon. Horatio seemed to need his moment. I won't give away where this story is headed but I do want you to know there is a method to the angsty madness. Thanks for sticking with the journey.

Chapter 16

As he sped through traffic, Horatio Caine's mind was occupied with more than just a silent prayer for his two CSIs.

Horatio had known a lifetime of tragedy and trauma. Day after day, year after year, the weight of the burdens on his shoulders grew heavier. He never felt like he might fold beneath it, until now.

Eric. His brother.

Every member of his team was important to Horatio, but Eric was family. They'd known each other the longest, walked the most difficult roads together, endured the same pain. Horatio knew Eric when he was fresh out of college, lost in the world. He was hauling tin and trying to figure out who he was, and Horatio took him under his wing. That was how it started.

It couldn't end like this.

He couldn't lose Eric like he lost Speed, and Marisol, and Ray.

Grief was a constant companion for Horatio, and while most of the time he used it as fuel to right the wrongs of the world around him, there were those rare times when Horatio stepped back and wished someone else would just right the wrongs in his world.

Eric came the closest to doing that for him. Horatio pushed him hard, he knew it. But he pushed the younger man hard because every time Eric learned from a mistake or rose to meet a challenge, every time he conquered a demon, Horatio felt a kind of care and pride that made it all seem worth it. What began as a chance to mentor a lost kid had turned into an emotional investment in the happiness and well-being of a man who was now family.

Horatio thought about Marisol. He and Eric had formed a strong bond of brotherhood over the years, but their shared commitment, that journey they walked together to save the woman they both loved, cemented their fate as blood brothers.

Marisol took her last breath with Horatio and Eric by her side. Horatio reached to close her eyes, then turned his own to meet Eric's. The decision to avenge Marisol's death was made with a single exchanged look. The mutual, unspoken revelation that they were each capable of murder, that they could feel such a hatred and possess such a taste for vengeance, that their futures were clear and now permanently intertwined—was less shocking than it should have been.

Rio. Eric and Horatio were the only two people on the planet who knew every detail of what went down on that fateful trip. With Horatio's blessing, Eric had shared the high points with Calleigh. The full truth, the full truth would go to the grave with them. Because the truth was that if Antonio Riaz hadn't started the fight that forced Horatio to strike him down in self-defense, one or both of them would have killed Riaz in cold blood before the day ended. Eric and Horatio alone shared this secret—they had blood on their hands.

Then, there was Eric's shooting less than a year ago. That day was a blur, but Horatio often replayed it in his mind in slow-motion. He remembered the gunfire, the adrenaline, the initial shockwave of fear at seeing Eric go down the first time. He thought he was protecting his brother by pulling him behind that car. He thought he was doing the right thing, but he didn't see the trap for what it was, and Eric had almost died because of it.

The days Horatio spent beside Eric's hospital bed seemed endless. His recovery was painful to watch but made Horatio prouder than ever. He observed as Eric pushed through and fought back and regained his sense of self, accepting that life would be different and still choosing to move forward.

The only person to spend more time with Eric during those weeks and months was Calleigh. From afar, Horatio watched with satisfaction as his two CSIs grew close again. They used to be best friends, but the events surrounding Speedle's death changed them. They spent less time together outside of work, they shared fewer smiles and the longing glances they exchanged across the room grew more pained. After Eric's shooting, the old sense of longing returned to the gazes they shared. The laughter, while not yet as carefree as it used to be, was back, and it was happy.

Jake Berkeley threw a wrench in all that, but Horatio held out hope. He saw the resolve in Eric's eyes and the uncertainty in Calleigh's.

He knew they loved each other deeply. Eric and Calleigh shared a bond all their own, an impenetrable one that, despite everything that had happened in the last three years, remained firm. Two weeks ago, Tim Speedle did a hell of a job reminding them that bonds like that don't come around twice in a lifetime.

Image after image flashed in Horatio's memory, all the photos from Speed's last and greatest gift to Eric and Calleigh. His thoughts finally landed on the grainy video of the two friends kissing in a dimly lit restaurant, and the music playing in the background.

Horatio sighed. He felt a sense of bitterness building somewhere in the middle of his chest, something he wished he could label as righteous anger. But it was just bitterness. None of this was fair.

Life—life is never fair, he reminded himself as he accelerated and turned a sharp left through a yellow light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wolfe reach for the overhead door handle to hang on tight.

In the passenger seat, Ryan sat in silence, willing traffic to stay clear so they could make it to the hospital more quickly. He could see the fear and strain on Horatio's face, despite the sunglasses blocking his eyes. The hard set to his jaw gave him away; the cracks in the man's armor were showing.

"H, you okay?" Ryan asked his LT. It was a question he never thought he'd be asking Horatio Caine, but Ryan had also never seen that look on the man's face before or felt this kind of tense energy radiating from him.

Consumed with his thoughts and focused on driving, Horatio didn't notice the failure of his meticulously maintained guard, and he quickly shored up the fortress walls.

"Just fine, Mr. Wolfe," he said. "We're almost there."

Ryan observed the one-eighty and felt mixed emotions. Part of him wished his boss would show the chinks in his armor, because it was kind of reassuring to know Horatio was just as scared as he was. The other part of him knew why H kept the walls up and he was grateful; the team needed him to keep it together.

Calleigh was going to need him to keep it together.

Wolfe's body pitched to the side as Horatio made a final sharp turn into the parking lot of Memorial Regional Hospital. The medical center reserved spots near the entrance for police vehicles, and Horatio careened into one of them, parked and was out of the Hummer before Ryan could unbuckle.

The younger CSI lagged behind his boss and witnessed a physical transformation in him before he entered the double doors of the E.R. It was subtle, but Ryan saw it—Horatio slowed his pace, straightened his shoulders and took a calming breath.

H's uncharacteristic behavior surprised Ryan. It was kind of like going to Oz and seeing behind the curtain, and it made him appreciate Horatio, and the heavy weight of the burdens he carried, all the more.

A familiar feeling bloomed in Ryan's chest, the one he felt upon seeing the old photos of a young Calleigh and Delko all those years ago. Just as before, when Ryan realized for the first time how close his partners used to be and how much they'd been through together, he realized now just how strong the bond was between Horatio and Eric.

Ryan didn't have time to hash that thought out, because right then his phone rang, and he spied Frank Tripp's name on the caller ID. Finally, he thought. He took his sweet time calling me back.

Wolfe reached out a hand to stop Horatio before he fully entered the E.R. lobby. For some reason, he didn't want to have this conversation in front of Calleigh, nor did he want to debrief the call to Horatio in front of her.

Horatio sent Ryan a questioning look until he realized who the man was talking to on the other end of the line. While he couldn't know it, Horatio's thoughts echoed his CSI's: better to have this conversation now, away from Calleigh. Call it intuition.

"Husband is dead, there's a hole blown right through his chest." Tripp didn't mince words. "The wife's gonna make it. She took one to the shoulder and they bussed her to Miami General. We got enough witnesses to keep me here for a few more hours."

"So, it's pretty cut and dry?" Ryan asked.

He could hear Tripp pause for a moment, then the sounds of footsteps and lessening background noise, as if the detective was moving away for privacy.

When Tripp spoke again, his voice was low. "Look, Wolfe, IAB's here."

"Standard procedure," Ryan said, but a knot started forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Right. The shooting's legit. We have witness corroboration. That's not what they're questioning…" Frank trailed off.

Ryan feared the answer to his next question. "Then what?"

In an even lower voice, Frank continued. "Stetler's asking questions about why Calleigh and Delko were together in Miami when they're supposedly on separate assignment a thousand miles apart. Now, you know I don't care. But if there's something I need to know, now's the time to tell me."

Shit, Wolfe swore to himself, glancing in his LT's direction. "I'm going to punt to Horatio on this one, Tripp. Not to keep you in the dark," he added quickly, hearing the man grumble. "But because he knows more than I do."

"About what, exactly?" Frank pressed.

"Look, do what you can to distract Stetler from asking questions about Delko and Calleigh. Then get to the hospital. We'll debrief there." The CSI sent another look to his lieutenant and Horatio nodded once.

"Will do," Tripp responded, "but if y'all are draggin' me into something…"

"We're not," Ryan insisted. He wasn't entirely sure if that was true but at least his tone sounded confident. "We'll see you at the hospital."

They hung up and Ryan quickly updated Horatio on the parts of the call the man couldn't hear, although Horatio pretty much got the gist.

"Leave IAB to me," he said. "I'll talk to Detective Tripp when he gets here."

Ryan's faith in Horatio extended to his ability to outmaneuver Rick Stetler, but the question was, "At what cost?" Horatio's reach was long, and his influence was great, but Stetler's war on the Miami Dade Crime Lab—his personal crusade against one Lieutenant Caine—well, Ryan hated to think about the battle that could potentially ensue from today's events, or those of the last two weeks.

He forced himself to push those thoughts aside and turned to follow H through the sliding glass doors, searching for Calleigh.

She was the first thing he noticed when he entered the waiting area. She was hard to miss, not just because all eyes in the waiting room seemed to be studying her, and the stranger beside her, but because she was covered–completely covered–in dark crimson blood.

Ryan's heart sank at the sight of her. Is that all Delko's?

Calleigh looked up as the doors opened, spied the two men and leapt to her feet. 'Thank God,' Ryan heard her breathe out in a rush.

Before she could utter another word, Horatio stepped into her path and enveloped her in a tight hug. A small sob broke free of her chest, but she bit back any others trying to escape.

"Horatio," Calleigh murmured against his shoulder, before she pulled back and locked her eyes with his. "Please help. They won't let me back there. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

She glanced at Ryan and couldn't help but accept his outstretched arms, too. She buried her face in the crook of his neck for the slightest second as he pulled her tight, and the tears threatened to fall.

"Ryan–" she started to say, but she didn't know what to say. She stepped out of his embrace and shook her head, running a hand over her face and through her hair. "What have I done?"

Neither Horatio nor Ryan knew what had transpired between their two friends, but they both knew Eric being shot was not Calleigh's fault. That was a dangerous road for her to go down.

"Listen to me, Calleigh" Horatio intoned, softly but firmly. "You, you did not do this."

Calleigh sniffed back a threatening tear and swallowed hard. "We never should have been there. It was my idea. I–"

Ryan placed a gentle hand on her elbow and her words faltered at his touch. "Cal, don't do this to yourself."

Horatio took a step closer and placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side the way he did when he comforted a victim or a young witness.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" he suggested quietly.

She shook her head again, swiped at the stubborn tear and cleared her throat. She tried to speak, but no words came. Another throat cleared several feet behind them.

"Maybe I can help?" It was the stranger Calleigh sat with earlier. He stood up from his perch on the row of hard plastic chairs and extended his hand to Horatio. It was also covered in dried blood, up to the elbow.

"I'm Jack Carlisle," he said by way of introduction. "I was at the park."

Understanding dawned in Horatio's eyes as Carlisle (or Jack, as Calleigh now knew) reached out to shake Wolfe's hand. The young CSI noticed immediately that both of the man's arms were stained with blood, as were the front of his shirt and his knees. Ryan's stomach clenched even harder.

"I'm an EMT. My partner and I were playing a game of pickup when we heard shouting." Jack sought Calleigh's eyes for permission to keep going, and she gave him a small, grateful nod.

"We looked up and saw a man with a gun trained on his wife, and your two officers drawing their weapons," he explained. "It was over as quickly as it started. Three people down. We got to your Officer Delko first."

He hesitated and looked once more at Calleigh. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest but her stoic chin was up and her tears remained at bay. She gave him another nod to continue.

Still, he paused, unsure.

"Jack, keep going," she told him. His deep, reassuring voice, laying the events out plainly in a way she couldn't right now, helped ease some of the pain in her chest.

The EMT inhaled a long breath. "Officer Delko—Eric—was hit with a through and through bullet, here," he pointed to the right side of his neck, halfway between his chin and collarbone.

Wolfe's ability to retain his own stoic front was quickly disintegrating. He shifted his weight on his feet, rotated his body to the side and roughly rubbed a hand over his mouth.

When he turned back, he could see Horatio's head bowed. How many homicide cases had they worked with victims who sustained injuries like Delko's? Too many.

Jack felt the despair descend on the group and felt the need to interject. "Look, we were on the scene. We stemmed the blood flow and were able to insert a trach."

"How many minutes elapsed between the shooting and CSI Delko arriving at the hospital?" Horatio inquired seriously.

"Less than ten," Jack responded immediately. "He has a chance."

"How much of a chance?" Wolfe asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

"That, I don't know," Jack replied, peering down at the petite blonde next to him, debating his next words. "I won't lie, it's small, but if he's half the fighter Calleigh says he is…he'll figure out a way."

Cal uncrossed her arms and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, her chest heaved with a painful sigh, and she turned away from the men to reclaim her seat on the hard row of chairs. She fought hard to find the hope that Carlisle seemed to possess. If she couldn't find the hope, she would find the strength.

Horatio, Wolfe and Jack Carlisle saw the slump in her shoulders disappear. They watched Calleigh run a hand through her hair and heard her sniff hard. Then she raised her face to theirs and pinned them with fiery eyes.

Among the three men, Carlisle was the only one who had never seen this side of Calleigh Duquesne. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or scared. He settled for a little bit of both.

Horatio and Wolfe knew that look well, or at least one similar. Calleigh had gone to that place she only went in a fight. It was the steely look in her eyes when she stared down the barrel of a gun or faced off with a violent suspect.

The look burning in her eyes in this particular moment—the one that threatened to set fire to the room around her and had them taking a step back—held something extra that the two men recognized instantly.

It was love. Calleigh was going to fight for Eric.

She stood and addressed Horatio. "I want to know what's happening, now. And if they won't tell me, they're sure as hell going to tell you."

Atta girl, Ryan thought to himself.

"You can count on it, Calleigh," Horatio said, turning to make his way to the receptionist's desk.

Jack considered the woman before him, wondering if he'd ever seen a woman so fierce. The answer was, "no," and the idea occurred to him that if he met Calleigh Duquesne under any other circumstances, and if she weren't desperately in love with a man named Eric Delko, he'd be desperately in love with her.

He thought about Delko's odds. They were low, but they weren't zero…

Horatio swept by the EMT on his way to the front desk and took comfort from the man's words and the hope he saw written on his face.

Eric, his blood brother, stood a fighting chance. Yes, a small one, but a chance, nonetheless.