Remote Control Princess

MSR - 'Defeat'

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 18:55:29 GMT

Title: Defeat
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: Mac and Stella, pairing or friendship you decide.
Rating: K
Spoilers: Season 2 'All Access'.
A/N: Written on an Edinburgh-bound train after watching the episode for the umpteenth time. Gotta be my...third post ep fic? HOW DID SHE NOT GET AN EMMY?!
Summary:

She might have been a big girl, but this was far bigger than Stella Bonasera. Wandering through her apartment, her heart beat faster and faster with each speck of blood she found; each memory that flashed before her eyes (either actual or courtesy of evidence); and everytime her cheek throbbed as she steeled her jaw and pulled on the stitches.

No, she was a big girl, but she couldn't handle this. She grabbed a few sweaters and some jeans from a drawer and stuffed them into her hospital bag, careful to step over Frankie's blood embedded into the rug (that would have to go).
She slammed the door behind her, hearing the lock falter into place after Flack's boot had attacked it.

She quickly retraced her steps to the elevator and back into the foyer. She was thankful the doorman wasn't there to give her a pitying half-smile again, but saw him through the glass double-doors berating a motorist. He was leant in to the passenger window telling the driver to move along, then standing back in defeat.

It was only now she saw Mac flashing his PD badge. He stilled as he saw her, his lips slowly forming into a smile. He nudged his head, signalling her to get in.

She smiled in return, her jaw still taught as she fought back tears once again. She passed Mike, the doorman, as Mac swung open the door for her. He didn't say anything as he moved out into the evening traffic, headed for Central Park. .

Demons - 'Glimpse'

Wed, 22 Apr 2009 19:53:04 GMT

Title: Glimpse
Pairings/Characters: Mina, Galvin
Rating: K
Word Count: 645
Genre: Friendship?
Spoilers: None.
A/N: This is a kind of snapshot into Mina and Galvin's relationship, being friendship or UST or whatever you take out of it. It...doesn't really have a point, I guess.
Summary:

“Galvin?” Mina whispered into the darkened night. She pulled her silk robe tighter around her chest against the early morning chill. She knew it was him, could smell him from her bedroom, but very old habits still died hard.

“What are you doing up?” he muttered, spinning on the cold stone step. His mack was buttoned up fully with the collar shielding his neck from the London spring. He held a hand out as she closed the door behind her and took a seat next to him.

She shrugged, “You know I can’t sleep properly when you’re out a-hunting.”

He smiled.

“So how’d you fair?”

The night had turned into boys-only thanks to a piano recital. “Not bad. Two two’s, a four and a six.”

“Not bad,” Mina agreed. “Luke okay?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled with a memory. “The six gave him a run for his money.”

“Oh?”

“Literally. It had his wallet for a while.”

She smirked, nudging his knee with her own. She heard his lighter spark to life as he relit his usual post-grading cigar. She reached over and took the tobacco from his mouth.

“Hey,” he warned, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“These’ll kill you,” she scolded, sliding it between her eternally ruby lips. He watched , unashamedly mesmirised, as her cheeks dimpled and she blew plumes of flittering smoke into the moonlight.

His mouth agape, he realised his silence when Mina tilted her head ever so slightly to him, curious where his witty retort had gone.

He cleared his throat, reclaiming his cigar. “And I’ll kill you if you try that again.”

She smirked, clasping her hands on her laps, her face cast to the unseen horizon. He inhaled, taking a deep breath through the roll, slowly blowing out through pursed lips.

Mina leant back, resting her elbows on the cold steps behind her. “Lord, that takes me back.”

He looked to her, mimicking her position.

“That smell. Jonathon and the boys, they’d sneak off to his study to smoke. The smell would seep under the door and coat the entire house. I didn’t care, I would have done anything to be in that room,” a wistful smile crossed her lips before an almost imperceptible shiver ran down her spine.

Galvin, though, picked up on it and unbuttoned his jacket, draping it across her shoulders.

“No, you need it more than me,” she said, peeling it from around her. Though it was cold, it wasn’t the temperature that made her shiver.

“Keep it,” he whispered, “what would the neighbours think?”

She smiled, wrapping it tighter. Though it wouldn’t warm the cold blood that ran through her veins, she could feel Galvin’s body heat emanating from the fabric, as well as the scent of his cologne and cigars.

She sighed contentedly, her face cast to the sky. “Is the moon out?”

He looked around, “Yeah. To the left. Looks like a thumbnail.”

She smiled, closing her eyes and letting the icy breeze bite at her cheeks. She missed the moon and stars. She missed a lot of things, but to be able to just sit out and watch the night was something she had always enjoyed. Now she was trapped in perpetual darkness, but with no stars to shine through. Exhaling a deep breath, it dancing from her mouth like the smoke had earlier, she tapped her knees in a finale. “You staying?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

Mina got to her feet, Galvin instinctively taking her hand and guiding her to the door. She found the handle and twisted it, leaving it open for him to enter behind her. He flicked on the hall light, closing the door and watching as Mina placed his jacket on the banister. “I’m going to bed,” she whispered, walking back towards him. “Goodnight, Rupert.”

He kissed her cheek, her hand on his arm, “Night.”

HCR - 'Aftermath'

Sun, 19 Apr 2009 14:51:32 GMT

Title: Aftermath
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: HCR (duh)
Rating: K
Spoilers: 7.01
A/N:I wrote this so long ago! Right after the premiere, in Florida with my family with my then-3yo niece in the next bed haha Hope it makes sense after all that.
Summary: " I don't know whether to hit you or hug you," she said aloud, feeling Horatio's presence behind her. She always knew when he was near- a kind of sixth sense that harked back to their earlier years of working together. She rarely felt it much anymore.

"Might I request the latter?"

She gave a hint of a smirk as she spun around on her heels, wrapping her arms around him. She kept the embrace for a beat longer, wanting the comfort. Not just because Horatio was alive, but through the need for closeness after waving goodbye to Jake Berkeley once again.

She pulled back, her hands still clasped around his forearms. "You get shot to death and all you have is singed eyebrows?"

He smiled his patented lop-sided smirk, saying "What can I say? Good genes."'

Her grinned retort soon shifted to a more serious expression. "Are you okay? Really?"

"I'm fine. I'm always fine."

"That's what worries me. You scared me, Horatio. We thought you'd actually died."

"I apologise, but it was the only way. I had to make Saris think I was gone, get him to think Miami was free for the taking. It was the only way to take him down."

"I get that. I do. I just- I remember when it was me you'd come to for that kind of operation. Then Eric came along. Now Wolfe?"

"He was the right man for the job. It was too big a sacrifice for you to make."

"That sacrifice was still made," she quietly breathed.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. So you're okay? Alive, kicking and back in work tomorrow?"

"Bright and early. As usual."

"Let's keep it that way, huh?" She smiled warmly, squeezing his arm.

"Goodnight, Ma'am."

She stepped away, spinning back with a grin as she left the steps, Horatio watching after her..

MSR - 'Twenty'

Mon, 09 Mar 2009 18:19:26 GMT

Title: Twenty
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: Mac and Stella, pairing or friendship you decide.
Rating: K
Spoilers: None.
A/N: Not quite how I wanted it to be, but I haven't written MacStella / CSI:NY in years so I consider it a rehersal. With thanks to Sammie for using up her text quota ;)
Summary:

A gust of air swept over his face as a file slapped onto the desk infront of him. His head snapped up as glinting green eyes smirked back and watched as a paper coffee cup was set before him from its twin in a cardboard tray, a vendor-acquired cupcake placed next to it. "Thank you?" He smirked, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and interlocking his fingers.

"You're welcome," Stella smiled, setting her own on the desk as she took a seat.

"Okay, what have you done?" He asked when she hadn't spoken for a while.

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence there, Mac. Nice to know you're on my side."

"I'm always on your side, Stella. I just like to know who's going to be on the other..."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that no one is. Contrary to popular belief I CAN go a full week without pissing anybody off."

He chuckled as he brought the cup of steaming hot coffee to his mouth. He tested the gap in the lid on his lip and decided to leave it to cool a while, taking the lid clean off and placing it back on the desk. "Then what's the occasion?"

"Take a look at the file," she prompted, gently blowing into the lid-gap of her own. She crossed her legs and sat back, a happy smile spreading across her olive skin.

He moved the items from on top of the manila case file and flipped it open. "The Flores file?"

She nodded.

"What's going on with this? It was closed." He quickly scanned the notes, details of the case flooding back to him.

"Yes it was. Twenty years ago today."

Mac's head shot up, a playful smirk contradicting the disbelief twinkling in his eyes.

Her beaming smile was barely hidden behind the coffee cup as she nodded again.

"Well..." He breathed, leaning back in the chair. "Twenty years."

"Twenty years. I almost loathe to admit it."

He stood up and took the seat next to her, chuckling to himself. Adopting a classic Stella killer stare and nostalgic vocal tone, he quoted "Narcotics case, narcotics collar. If I hear you've so much as breathed in Flores' direction, I'll shove a bucal swab so far down your throat you'll be spitting cotton for a week."

Stella almost looked embarrassed as she picked at the cupcake wrapping on her lap. "Yeah I've calmed down a lot since then..."

"Ha!" Mac snorted. "Just last week you threatened to 'shove a microscope so far up' my ass I'd have 'perfect hindsight.'"

Stella was laughing, "One of my better ones, I'll admit. What, I have anger issues. You knew that when you hired me."

"I did, but who knew that such a powder keg was contained in such a petite frame."

"Just one of the things you grew to love about me," she sassed with a wink, sipping at her coffee.

He smiled as he reached over his desk for his own cup, taking a gulp. A sweet, somewhat familiar taste invaded his senses, resulting in bit of an unexpected grimace.

"Irish flavouring," she explained.

He swallowed heavily, not wholly enjoying the taste. "Hmm... Something like that." He cast a quick glance to the desk clock and crossed the office to retrieve his jacket from his chair. "Come on. Anniversary dinner. Proper irish coffee included."

Stella made a point of putting her cup on the desk, more than willing to forego 'flavouring' for the real deal, though she was shaking her head when she went slip past him at the door. "One condition," she murmured, her nimble fingers attacking the knot of his tie. She pulled the dark material free and flung it back into the office with an unceremonious fling, smirking as she smoothed his collar back down.

"Finished?"

She stepped back, assessing the situation. With pursed, amused lips, she undid his top button aswell, completing the casual ensemble she was going for. "Yes. Let's go."

Demons - 'Promises'

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 14:37:28 GMT

Title: Promises
Fandom: Demons
Pairing: Rupert/Mina, friendship or romance, take what you what out of it.
Rating: K
Spoilers: 1.06 'Nothing Like Nebraska'
Summary:

He was sat outside, watching. The reflection of the moon rising from the car bonnet was the only indication of the time, of how long he had been avoiding going in, of facing the truth. Her house seemed so empty, so devoid of life. He gave a wry chuckle - it was only ever full of half life.

He pulled a hip flask out of his pocket, guzzling back the single malt it held. Whether it was for courage, addiction or thirst, he didn't know any more, but the ache he felt for the burn and sting of the whisky should have rang a dangerous bell.

He went for another gulp when a police car came into view. His hand dropped to his lap - splashing the liquid onto his dark grey trousers - as he watched the uniforms glideby, not casting a second glance to the classic silver mercedes parked across the street. He wasn't outside the police afterall, no matter how much effort he put into protecting the streets of the city.

When the car was sufficiently out of view, he swigged the flask again and, with a deep sigh, got out of the car.

The door slammed behind him, though the sound barely made an impact. His stubby fingers were fiddling with his keys, trying to find the one that Mina had given him. He slipped it into the lock - again wondering why hotels had those credit card things that never worked first time - smelling the spicy, warm aroma he had come to look forward too. Anything was better than the cat piss and stale cigarettes of his current abode.

"Mina?" he called, deep down knowing the effort was futile. He wiped a sweaty hand over his face and heaved another heavy sigh, flicking the hall light switch on.

He walked a familiar path to her kitchen, casting a glance into the living room. He stopped, staring at the dialysis machine that had always managed to keep her...human. What he wouldn't give, right now, to see that doped, spacey look on her face as her blood was cleansed of the impurities that now kept her away.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he spotted the bottle of whisky on the counter, a note propped against it.

She was never predictable, Mina Harker. Always a surprise. Though he didn't begin to understand how she would be able to write, he never underestimated for a minute that she was capable of anything.

He poured a dram of whisky, knocking it back before sliding a thick finger under the tab of the envelope.

He'd never seen her writing before, he realised, but it was exactly as he had imagined. Cursive, old. Not quite straight but perfectly legible and...pretty.

Rupert,

I had no other choice - forgive me.

Luke needs you, London needs Luke.

You know what you have to do.

Always love,

Mina.

In the fold of the letter he found a long dark strand of hair. "Oh Mina," he sighed.

Demons - 'A Final Goodbye'

Sat, 07 Feb 2009 22:40:53 GMT

Title: A Final Goodbye
Fandom: Demons
Pairing: Slight Rupert/Mina, I guess?
Rating: K
Spoilers: 1.04 'Suckers'
Summary:

"Erm, a little help here? Luke?" Ruby asked with growing impatience. She had helped free Galvin from his restraints but she was still firmly attached to the chair. Luke smirked bringing his hand away from the lump on the back of his head, giving his fingers a quick scan for any sign of blood.

"This is becoming a habit, you know?" he said, bending down behind her.

"Hilarious," she muttered, making Luke chuckle. His nimble fingers worked at undoing the knots as Ruby’s eye line followed that of Galvin’s.

Mina was still sat cradling her son’s head on her lap. Her fingers stroked at his rapidly whitened wisps of hair. Ruby’s hands suddenly fell to her sides, the cable snaking its way to the ground. Before Luke could claim victory and berate her for being held hostage once again, he glanced to Galvin and, seeing the ever-worried look on his face intensified, followed his line of sight.

He watched as Galvin walked towards her, his large boots thumping against the stone floor. He crouched down next to her, laying his rough hands on her small shoulders, only to be shrugged off. Ruby and Luke silently left the room, as Galvin took a seat refusing to leave Mina’s side.

She fingered the delicate hair again, thankful her blindness had reverted back so she didn’t have to see his lifeless eyes staring back at her, blaming her for failing him. She kissed his leathery skin one last time, whispering "Goodbye, my baby," before laying his head back on the cold stone. She spun around suddenly, burying her face in Rupert’s neck, his coat bunched in her fierce grip as sobs began to rack her body. He rubbed circles on her back, gently shushing her. Usually he was totally inept in situations like these, but he had previous knowledge of Quincey’s effects on her.

He held her tight against him, his back beginning to ache from the unusual twist he bore on it from when she suddenly pounced on him.

They both fell silent in an instant as they heard a rustle come from the other side of the room. When they heard a groggy-sounding moan with the rustle, realisation set in.

Anika.

Galvin’s body tensed as he went to stand up, but Mina tightened her grip on him, her sightless eyes following the noise. Her jaw was set, her eyes hard and fearful, her fingers like talons against his chest; this was her fight.

Galvin pulled her to her feet with him, leaving a lingering squeeze on her arm before slipping out of the door.

He found the young pair on the staircase leading to the outside. Ruby rested her head on Luke’s shoulder as he fingered the gun still in his hands. "Where’s Mina?" he asked.

Galvin stared intently at the door he had just closed, as if with more determination he could see through the heavy wood.

"Galvin! Where’s Mina?" He asked again, force beyond his years in his voice. Ruby lifted her head, sensing the change in atmosphere. Luke rushed up to pass his mentor, only to be stopped with a hand on his chest.

"Only a vampire can kill a vampire," Galvin muttered as the first sound of violence broke through to them.

Resembling a baby deer stumbling to its feet, Anika tried to find her balance before pulling at the sake still impaled in her chest. Though she would heal instantly afterwards, actually removing the stake flooded her with all the human pain she had long since forgotten. She threw the ragged wooden post across the room, it smacking into a wall and shattering into splinters. It was only now, taking in her surroundings, that she noticed the body on the floor. She cried out "No!" grabbing at her chest, doubling over. Though he had aged nearly 100 years since before her unconsciousness, she would recognise those hypnotising eyes anywhere.

She attempted to run to him but Mina stepped into her path, Anika only now realising she was there. "You’re still here," she spat. The eternal rage of embraced vampirism surged her forward, sending her almost flying through the air with a guttural growl.

Mina allowed herself to transform again, the ingested blood still surging through her veins. As the scales dropped from her eyes, her sight restored to all its heightened glory, she twisted her body to deliver a powerful kick to Anika’s mid-section, sending her hurtling back where she came from into the solid stone wall with a resounding crack.

With death not applicable, Anika pulled herself out of the divot the impact had created and onto her feet, shaking her head like a dazed animal. She charged again at full speed, her face even more contorted with determination, hatred and anger.

Mina threw her head back, laughing at the doomed display of defiance. Did Anika really think she could take on a blood descendant of Dracula?

With a roundhouse kick, the lesser vampire fell to the floor head first. In an instant, Mina was behind her and tipping her rusty-haired head to one side. The pale pallour of her neck gave startling resolution to the ruby red blood pumping through her pounding arteries. Before Anika could even think of defending herself, Mina sank her sharpened teeth into the firm yet supple skin.

As the first droplets of blood leaked from the puncture wounds to her tongue, a feeding frenzy began. The rich velvet liquid seeped down her throat as her victim quivered and screamed beneath her touch, unable to refuse. Mina fed hungrily, the excitement of the act rivalling that of any man she had ever known.

Her tongue snaked out, tickling the sweet skin and swirling the warming flow around her excited taste buds.

It took mere minutes to drain her. She hadn’t needed to do so, in all honesty, just a single bite would have had the vampire melting before her, but where was the fun in that? As she withdrew her teeth, the limp body disintegrated into a tide before it even hit the floor.

There was no trace of Anika, nor of the death and destruction of her place in the world.

The strength, the power and the thirst was overpowering, Mina felt almost dizzy as everything she’d fought so hard to deny came rushing back to her in an instant. She stood up, her head slowly turning to the scent of fresh blood outside the door, an evil smirk playing across her ruby red lips. She suddenly stepped back as if punched by an invisible force. She tried to regain herself as the internal struggle began. Trying her hardest to fight the urges to attack, to continue feeding, she threw a hand up as Galvin rushed through the door. "No! Stay away!" she warned with frantic eyes and a breaking voice.

For once, Rupert did as he was told, staying in the room but using the door as a shield. He watched her face crease, brows furrowing, lips form a tight line. Worry etched onto his rough features, his mind pleading "Come on, Mina. Get a grip. Don’t make me smite you. Please."

Mina let out a deep, blood-curling scream, doubling over in agony. The menacing voices and insatiable thirst melding into one incredible din, its power over her near-impossible to resist. She crouched low, her hands covering her face as she reached back in her memory. She searched frantically for faces and times to ground her to humanity, her chest heaving at the exertion. Finally, through the reddened glare and scenes of tempting horror, she saw Jonathon. Sweet, gentle, loving Jonathon.

Baby Quincey.

Lucy.

Luke. Ruby.

Rupert.

He must have noticed the subtle drop in her shoulders as the dark lost its grip, because Galvin appeared before her, pulling her to her feet. Hands still covering her face, she fell against his chest, his head hitting it with some force. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, letting her calm down and breathing return to normal from its jagged hitches.

Ruby and Luke peeked around the door, seeing the destruction for the first time. Where‘d she go?" Ruby whispered, seeing only the body of Quincey. Luke made a minute motion to Mina. "Bloody hell," she breathed. "Way to go, Mina."

Luke looked at her, eyes wide as if say ‘Shut up!".

"What?" she defended. Gesturing to them in turn, she announced, "You had a gun, we got tied to chairs. It took the blind chick to sort it out! That seems like a ‘way to go’ moment to me."

Luke was about to drag her out by the hood - did she not see that Mina’s son had just died? - until he heard a muffled laugh. Mina turned to them, pulling herself out of Galvin’s iron grasp. "Thank you, Ruby. I think."

Luke relaxed slightly, receiving a bump and pulled face from Ruby. "So… what happens now?" he asked, gesturing to the body.

"We burn him," Mina answered with Galvin didn’t.

Galvin carried the body of Quincey from the building site, Luke guiding Mina through linked arms. It was a silent, grave task, save for the groans of exertion and expletives from the pallbearer. Once they reached outside, the body was dumped on a pile of construction waste in the yard, Rupert coming away rubbing his hands on his jacket. Mina stood back, her mind providing the images her eyes couldn’t see.

Not really knowing the procedure for this type of thing, Ruby drooped her head, choppy bangs falling into her eyes. It was one thing to watch a scene like this in a Hammer horror movie, but to watch it play out in real life wasn’t something she was sure she wanted to witness. Luke wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she turned into him, her eyes closed and buried into his neck.

"Mina?" Galvin asked, his whisky-rough voice soft.

"I said goodbye to my son a long time ago, Rupert," she replied, though still a tear escaped down her pale cheek.

Galvin turned back to the totem. Pulling a book of matches from one of his deep pockets, he tore one off and dragged it across the sandpaper strip. It burst to fiery light, contrasting the darkened night surrounding it. Tucking it behind the others of the book, he threw the flaming mass to the pile, the builders waste igniting immediately with a whoosh.

As the flash of heat tickled at her skin, she felt Galvin link arms with her, laying a hand across hers with a comforting weight. Her breath still came in emotional hitches, but she inhaled deeply, letting the hot smell of burning wood and flesh become both a harrowing memory and a closing door

RMR - 'Would You Do It Again?'

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 15:45:20 GMT

Title: Would You Do It Again?
Fandom: Demons
Pairing: Rupert/Mina
Rating: K
Summary: "Would you do it again?" Galvin asked, sipping at the whisky dram in his hand. He leant an arm over the back of the couch to reach her, curling a length of her hair around his finger.

"Do what?" Mina asked, knowing full well the answer. She plucked the curl from his grasp and tucked it behind her ear.

"Change someone."

She didn’t have an instant answer for a question like that. Of course, it was something she had gone over again and again in her head over the years. So many other questions came from those five little words though - would I do it again. Would they come to hate me for doing it? How many innocents might die? Would they become the same as Quincey? "That’s not a black-and-white answer, Rupert."

"Yes, it is," he pushed, as usual. "Imagine it was Luke. Some vile half-life has him at the brink of death. There are merely seconds left before he dies. He’s spitting blood, his body shaking, he’s pleading for you to help him. There’s only one hope - you. Would you do it?"

"I don’t know, Rupert!" Mina shouted, her hands shaking, tears threatening to fall. Memories flooded back from 1915 like they were made but yesterday. The all encompassing sense of helplessness, the fear that would watch her precious child die before her eyes like her beloved husband had, the impending potential loneliness. Then the years after, when Quincey embraced his second life like Mina never had. She saved him and lost him in just one action.

"Okay, okay," he whispered, sitting up to cradle her head in his hands. "I’m sorry," he stroked gently at her cheeks looking straight into her heavily lidded eyes. She placed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart beating rhythmically beneath. She sighed deeply and lay her head next to her hand. He sat back against the couch, his fingers threading through her silken dark hair.
.

RMR - 'Disturbing Images'

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 15:40:44 GMT

Title: Disturbing Images
Fandom: Demons
Pairing: Rupert/Mina
Rating: K
Summary:

"How is he?" Mina asked, her voice low. Galvin guided her to the car with a hand to the small of her back.

"He’ll get over it."

"You know, Rupert, sometimes your paternal instincts astound me."

"You should see my maternal instincts."

Mina chuckled, whipping her cane around to lightly tap him on the shin.

"Alright, is it really just me that sees something there?" Ruby asked, pointing to the couple walking ahead of them.

"Ruby, please," Luke moaned, "I’ve just vanquished my girlfriend, I don’t need any more disturbing images in my head."

She pressed her lips together tightly, linking arms with him. "I’m sorry, you’re right," she whispered, still keeping an eye forward as Galvin leaned into Mina’s limo, saying something to make her almost blush and smile back… seductively? "That is definitely disturbing…"

RMR - 'Hello'

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 15:32:46 GMT

Title: Hello
Fandom: Demons
Pairing: Rupert/Mina
Rating: T
A/N: Drabble based on the ITV1 supernatural drama.
Summary:

He pushed her against the wall, his hands against her waist as the front door shut loudly behind her. He always thought he surprised her when he did this, but of course she could smell when he was near. She still gasped seductively and dropped her cane to the floor. It fed his ego which, in turn, fed the excitement.

He chuckled as her stick fell with thumps against the hardwood flooring. "Most people just say ‘hello‘, Rupert," she breathed against his cheek as he placed kisses along her neck. He always liked to start there - it gave him some perverse pleasure in fuzzing the boundaries between black and white, full and half-life, friends and lovers.

"Hmm," he vibrated against her heated skin, "Hello, Mina."

"That’s better," she smirked, threading her gloved fingers into his hair. She pulled his head up so his lips met hers, a familiar dance beginning.

HCR - 'Vices pt 2'

Mon, 12 Jan 2009 21:34:09 GMT

Title: Vices pt2
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: Calleigh/Horatio
Rating: T
Spoilers: 5.01
A/N: Horatio didn't get married, never met Mari and only went to Rio to avenge Raymond. Somewhat related to Vices but not needed to understand this.
Summary:
She'd finally found him. He was sat on the small wall dividing the CSIHQ and the lusious green grounds it kept; his back to her. She watched as the gentle humid breeze ruffled the errant strands of his hair and fanned his shirt, complimenting the contours of his back. She wondered if the solid definition was in fact muscle or a build up of stress and tension across his shoulders.
Occasionally, a puff of white smoke would be carried away on the wind, telling Calleigh exactly what she needed to know about his peace of mind; it wasn't good.
She strolled down towards him, her heels sinking into the grass at times. He didn't jump when she placed her hands on his shoulders - they always somehow knew when the other was near.
She slowly and gracefully kneaded at his muscles, finding the scales were tipping heavily to tension. He drooped his head, eyes closing as his arms fell against his knees. Ash from the cigarette between his fingers scattered to the floor.
Her thumbs pressed deeply into his neck as goosebumps rose across his skin; he was enjoying it. A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth, glad to be able to help him in any way she could. She didn't care what they looked like to the outside world, it was a moment they didn't get to share often - usually just as an outlet when the job got to much.
It had definitely got too much this time.
Exhaustion was still rippling through his body, being fought against with ever fibre he could muster. He wouldn't give in, even though everything with the case was closed for the most part. Diaz died in Brazil (as a result from self-defence from Horatio's hand), I's had been dotted and T's crossed; there was nothing more to do for now.
Well, nearly nothing. He still had to reclaim the Lieutenant badge from Calleigh.
Calleigh pulled her fingers away, stepping over the brick ledge and taking a seat next to him. He squared his shoulders again, sitting up straighter. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting a stick from the end of his own. She smiled a thanks. This was what they did. Even though they wanted to be alone, the company of eachother was exempt from the rule. Only the other knew exactly what they needed in that moment. Generally not even a word would be exchanged, just the presence was enough.
They didn't really know when the cigarette tradition had begun. It just seemed a more responsible way to relax, even though the consequences were deadly - maybe the consequences were the draw? It was only the extreme times when they did this - when they were so angry that the shooting range was dangerous (you should never drive or shoot angry); so defeated that drinking was perilious (answers were not at the bottom of a bottle) and so scared and bewilderd that company wasn't recommended.
They had too much respect for eachother for the other 'relaxing' possibility - sex.
Of course, they would have much preferred sex to smoking. You didn't smell - or taste - like an ashtray and there was most definitely less health-related risks, but social ethics meant the subject was never even broached.
So, smoking it was. Horatio took his last drag, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a heavy sigh. He stubbed out the butt on the wall, slipping it back into the pack. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, before reaching for another smoke.
Calleigh put her hand on top of his, stopping him in his tracks. He looked into her emerald green eyes, sparking with mutual sadness, slght mischief and just an occasional flash of pity. "Desperate times call for...different measures."
Horatio blinked. She understood that a full pack of cigarettes weren't going to cover this episode. She's been there the last time. This wasn't just a difficult scene, or a drawn-out case, this was family, and family was always special circumstances.
She pulled a key out of her pocket - a spare already removed from a fob. Sliding it into his hand, she met his eyes again - bewilderment, concern and just a hint of gratitude in his dark crystalline eyes.
A blush flared across her chest as she watched those eyes turn even darker, anticipation already tingling in her every nerve. She curled his fingers around his palm, the silver key burning into his hand, feeling as heavy as the questions racing through his head. She let her fingers trail slowly across his knuckles as she stood up. She waited for his eyes to finally meet hers again, never saying a word, just letting their eyes converse in ways there voices never would or could. She climbed over the wall and retraced her steps to the building. Horatio's eyes flicked from her retreating figure - the mesmirising sway of her hips and bounce of her blonde hair - to the promise held within his sweaty hand.
He breathed heavily through his nose, letting it fill his chest completely, hoping the clarity could influence his decision. Could he? Could they?
He slid the key into his shirt pocket, taking the sports jacket from the wall and bunching it between his fists.
He spun his head around, still hoping to catch a glimpse, but she had already gone.
He ran after her, jogging his way across the soft grass, following the divets from Calleigh's heels. He turned the corner and there she was. She smiled sweetly when they locked eyes. She'd waited to see his reaction, if she had just made the worst impulse of her entire life. He stopped dead, as if he ran into an invisible wall. He smirked in that crooked way that secretly made her melt, and drooped his head to the ground, coy bashfulness coming over him.
He took a step closer, looking back to her with darkened lustful eyes. She almost looked scared as she stepped back against the wall of the building, her palms hitting the brick. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart beating in her ears. He looked for permission to come closer, instantly relaxing her.
She smiled, that mischievious glint returning to her eyes, the glint he loved to have a hand in making. He stepped closer, one hand resting against the wall, the other tracing over her cheekbone. "Are you sure?"
She heard the hidden message in his question. The message saying that he didn't want this to be a one time thing. Regardless of his state of mind, or the predicament this position had been borne from, he was stable enough to recognise the potential of this meeting.
She thread her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging gently for him to close the final distance.

JGF - 'Saying Goodbye'

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 16:40:39 GMT

Title: Saying Goodbye
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Gwen Friendship
Rating: T for language
Spoilers: Post 'Reset', no 'Dead Man Walking'.
A/N: The Cardiff/Chelsea line relates to the FA Cup semi-finals in British football.
Summary:

Number 206. Also known as the final resting place of Dr. Owen Harper. The stone door had no plaque for remembrance, nothing to note that Owen lay in there, just the number 206.

It was tucked away in the corner of the make-shift crematorium, last door on the second row. Jack had spent every night since his passing staring at that door, trying to find the right way to apologise. To make right with himself. Nothing had happened so far.

He waited in his office for the cog door to close behind Ianto - always the first to arrive and the last to leave - and just sat against the wall, continuously tracing the numbers with his eyes. His watch would beep in the morning, giving him enough time to wash and look respectable before the team arrived for yet another day.

It shouldn’t have happened. Why did he hesitate? Jack should have just killedCopley when he first drew the gun. Maybe just shot him in the shoulder, disabling him, giving them enough time to get the gun away, arrest him. No, he hesitated. Tried to negotiate. Watched as Owen stepped in front of Martha and took the bullet to his heart. The life draining from his eyes, the air from his lungs.

It shouldn’t have happened.

Jack slammed his fist into the wall again, burying his head in his knees and tucking them closer. The anger he felt was unbearable, it squeezed at his heart, took the breathe from within him. It shouldn’t have happened. He should have stopped it.

He hadn’t heard the footsteps, his self-berating too loud. He felt her hand on his arm as Gwen sat down next to him on the cold tiled floor. She could feel Jack’s eyes boring into her, but she didn’t look. “Hey Owen,” she said. “Chelsea lost and Cardiff are in the final. You owe me a tenner.”

She smirked slightly, and Jack scoffed with a nearly-there smile. He let his legs extend, his fingers entwining on his lap. “What are you doing here?”

“Forgot my phone. As usual,” she spoke softly. She didn’t know why she whispered in there, like she might wake some of the residents if she spoke too loud. “You?”

Jack sighed deeply, leaning his head back on the wall. “Repenting. As usual.”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” she told him, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear so to see him properly.

“Don’t, Gwen.” He refused to believe anything.

“You couldn’t have done anything and you know it. Owen was a stubborn bugger, always was. He would have jumped in front of a bus if it meant looking good in front of a beautiful girl.”

“I should have done something.”

“We could have all done something. We could have locked him away with Janet for the day, made sure he didn’t leave the hub and so didn’t get shot.” She turned to face him, crossing her legs beneath her. “We could have been a minute quicker getting out of that building. We could have ignored that whole rift episode and sat in your office drinking margaritas and doing the conga. It doesn’t matter. It happened.”

“I should have stopped it.”

“Stop it. Stop doing this. What would Owen say if he could see you now?”

Jack thought about it, a slow lop-sided smile forming on his lips. “To ‘suck it up, you big pussy’?”

Gwen smirked, “Exactly. He would have probably not spoken to you for a month if you’d have stepped in. He had just saved Martha’s life, and he was playing the big macho man, so naturally he probably thought he was in for some nookie. If you’d have saved him, he would have gone in a big strop and moped for days on end.” She laid a hand on his arm, mischievousness dancing in her eyes. “You did us all a favour, Jack.”

A smile flitted across his handsome features, remembering the countless times Owen had sulked about the hub like a child, practically stamping his feet, but using language beyond his attitude. He turned solemn again. “What, by getting him killed?”

“Jack…”

“I can’t die, Gwen. I can’t fucking die, but everyone else in this bastard world can. I could have saved him. I should have saved him. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, I should have stepped in front of him, ego be damned and taken that have been so taken off guard by my resurrection that you guys could have had him and Owen would still be alive. He would still be fucking here, Gwen!” He slammed his fist against the wall again, scrunching up his face as pain racked through him. He had broken his hand. Gwen grabbed hold of it, carefully touching the quickly bruising area. “I’m fine. I can heal, remember?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Jack! Yes you can heal, you’re fucking Jesus incarnate!” She dropped his fist unceremoniously. “We all loved, Owen. We all miss him. We all think we could have done something to stop him, but it’s over. We can’t go back and change it, we just have to go to tomorrow. We can’t do that without you, Jack, and you can’t do it without us.” Her face was flushed, her green eyes sparking with intensity.

“So…” she began with a smirk, “Suck it up-”

“Don’t say it-”

“-You big pussy.”

His face contorted, she’d said it. “A woman should never say that word.”

“What, ‘pussy‘? Should never say ‘pussy‘?” She flashed a toothy grin.

“Stop it,” he smirked.

“Make me.”

He looked at her, as if saying ‘you don’t want me to do that’.

She grinned wider, before standing up with a sympathetic smile. “Come on, you need a drink.”

Jack took her hand, easing himself up from the floor and forcing his muscles to work. “I do need a drink.”

Gwen linked his arm as they took one last look to 206. He took a deep breath, a final goodbye. She stroked at his arm and led him out of the hub.

\/p

GRR, JIR - 'Delivery'

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 16:05:48 GMT

Title: Delivery
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto
Rating: K+
Spoilers: See below.
A/N: Inspired by a line in the TW novel 'The Twilight Streets'::
Rhys: "When I married you, I imagined an NHS hospital, me pacing the corridors for eight hours drinking weak-as-piss tea, and Jack stood there, winding me up saying it was an alien. Or his. Or both." [pg168]
Summary:

“Rhys, would you please sit down. You’re making me dizzy,” Jack pleaded. He wasn’t even looking at the guy, but his peripheral vision was picking him up loud and clear. He was pacing. He was pacing for bloody Wales. His head drooped, his hand raking through his hair every third turn and a greenish glint to his features.

“I can’t sit down,” Rhys uttered back, u-turning and carrying on. A loud groan came from Gwen’s room, and that last drop of colour fell from Rhys’ face, till there was just an unhealthy greyness about him. “Oh, Christ...”

That had momentarily halted the pacing, but he restarted with even more fervour. Gwen was in the process of giving birth to their first child, but Rhys was ready to have kittens.

“Okay,” Jack started, throwing an old copy of Cosmopolitan to the waiting room table. “I’ve been thinking about names. You want something strong, right? A name to be proud of. I’ve narrowed it down to two: Jack and -”

He wasn’t sure if Jack had started choking or he was being serious. The second ‘name’ sounded to Rhys something along the lines of ‘Sudoku” with a tongue-click at the end. “I don’t think so.”

“Why? That’s a good name where I’m from. Common, I’ll give you that. Sort of like an alien Gareth Jones.”

“No.”

“Okay, well, Jack. At least name him after his father,” he smirked.

“Fuck off, Jack,” Rhys muttered. Gwen had warned him plenty that Jack would take the piss, but he didn’t really believe her. Boy, was he wrong.

“Jack,” Tosh scolded, appearing in the hall with a plastic cup. “Ignore him. Here, I got you some tea.”

“Thanks, Tosh,” Rhys breathed, taking the drink. He brought it to his lips, but jerked back as the smell of it hit his senses.

“Yeah, you don’t want to drink that glorified cat piss,” Owen said, grabbing the cup and thrusting a water bottle in his hand instead. He sat down opposite Tosh, who greeted him with an embarrassed look.

Rhys unscrewed the lid and took a gulp, before spraying it across the hospital corridor. “Jesus, Owen! That’s vodka!”

“Yeah,” he replied, missing the point.

Jack reached behind him and took the bottle. “I’ll take that for you,” he said flashing a grin to Owen.

A string of loud expletives carried from Gwen’s room.

“That’s my girl,” Jack smirked.

“Oh, God…” Rhys muttered, practically running now.

“I’ll go see how she’s doing,” Jack said standing up and pointing to the room.

“Sit down!” Rhys bellowed, “You are not seeing my wife’s business end.”

“Oh, please, honey,” he scoffed, sitting back down. “I’ve seen it plenty at the Torchwood orgies.”

“He’s joking,” Tosh said, barely looking up from her PDA.

“Unfortunately,” Owen muttered.

“I hate you guys,” Rhys said, u-turning.

“Did I miss it? Is he here?” Ianto asked, bounding up the corridor, blue balloon bobbing behind.

“If only,” Owen grumbled.

“Any minute, they said,” Rhys said, coming to a stop and folding his arms around himself.

“What’s in the bag, Ianto?” Tosh asked, sitting forward and leaving her PDA on the table. There wasn’t much rift activity thankfully.

The balloon came forwards as he brought the bag up. “Erm, teddy with a Welsh dragon t-shirt; rugby ball for when he’s older, and a flask of tea and one of coffee. The drinks here aren’t fit for human consumption,” he gestured to Jack, “or alien.”

“Thanks, man,” Rhys managed to smile, slapping him on the shoulder. He ordered a coffee.

“How cute are you?” Jack asked, turning around on his chair and smiling up at Ianto.

He blushed gently and handed Rhys a cup before sitting down.

“Who’s the father?” A nurse asked, peaking her head through the delivery room door. Ianto grabbed Jack’s knee to keep him sat.

“Me. That’s me. I am,” Rhys muttered.

“Would you like to meet your son?”

“My s… I have a s…” he fidgeted, not knowing what to do with his hands. He was frozen to the spot, before feeling a hand on his shoulder.

“Go meet your kid. Tell Gwen we love her,” Jack whispered, edging him closer to the door.

Rhys nodded and took the final steps to meet his new extended family.

HCR - 'Requested Presence'

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 19:34:25 GMT

Title: Requested Presence
Rating: K
Show: CSI:Miami
Pairing: Horatio/Calleigh
Summary:

Horatio Caine was walking the halls, just a little hot under the collar. He’d been on the receiving end of a telephone call telling him he was expected to be elsewhere than Miami for the weekend. He hated leaving his team in the lurch.

“But I already have one team member out of town this weekend,” he mentioned, turning into the break room. Eric looked up from his lunch.

“You should manage your team more efficiently then,” the female voice on the other side of the phone spat.

Horatio stopped in his tracks. “With all due respect, Ma’am, how I manage my team has nothing to do with you,” with that he hung up.

“Everything okay?” Eric asked with a grimace. He knew how much Horatio loathed the politics that came with the badge.

“My presence has been requested else where for the weekend,” he took a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“I see, and you’re worried that with Calleigh away as well the team will fail without your presence?” Eric lifted an eyebrow in away that would probably have resulted in a cuff to the head if it was too his mother. “Horatio, you’ve taught us well, we can handle one weekend.”

Horatio smirked, his head dropping. “Hmm, is that so?”

“Sure!” He rolled up his sandwich wrapper and threw it into the bin on the opposite wall. “We’re only on call this weekend, so I’m sure Ryan and myself can handle this here town.”

“I guess I have to take your word for it, they want me there by tonight,” he mentioned as he left a grinning Eric in his wake. He heard a “Have fun!” with a familiar sarcastic tone.

Calleigh took the key card out of the slot and groaned tiredly as the weekend bag fell from her shoulder. A journey that should have only taken a few hours had lasted almost four, and that was after a full days work. Her legs were not appreciating the extra effort.

The door hissed to a quiet close behind her as she threw her clothes onto a chair. She didn’t have the energy to root through her bag for pyjamas, nevermind turn a light on.

She sank beneath the covers and slept within an instant.

It was still dark when Horatio woke. He turned beneath the covers, his cheek hitting the cold side of the pillow. His eyes fluttered open. “I managed my team,” he whispered with a smile.

“I can see that, Handsome,” came a weary reply. “And with all due respect, sir, you talk to me like that again and you won’t be getting your presence requested anywhere near me for a long time…”

“Duly noted,” Horatio chuckled, wrapping an arm around Calleigh’s waist, and bringing the cover over them with the other...

For Vicki's crappy day x

HCF/HCR - 'Auld Acquaintance' [Challenge Fic #017]

Fri, 04 Jan 2008 17:49:42 GMT

Title: Auld Acquaintance
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Characters/Pairings: Calleigh Duquesne. Horatio Caine. [Possibly HCR]
Rating: K
Spoilers: Speed's dead. So is Hagen. I know, this is new information!
A/N: To make this work, both sorta died within 2005. If you think about it, they sorta did... it was the season that began in 2005...gotta count for something ;)
Challenge Info: Fic: #19. Prompt: #17 - Celebration
Summary:

Lord, she didn’t want to be there. Her heart was beating out of her chest and her stomach performing circus tricks inside of her. She was scared. She was actually scared of walking into a house full of her peers. What had Calleigh Duquesne come to within twelve months?

New Year was a time of reflection, but she’d had plenty of that living through the year past. She wished so much that she could wake up and find it was 2004. That year was a good year. She didn’t lose as many people in that year. Alexx, however, was adamant that not only was everyone to attend her annual party, but they were all going to have a damn good time. Or else.

The year hadn’t been particularly favourable to her either - she took Speed’s death like a loss of a child - but she felt maybe a fraction of what had changed the lives of the Miami CSI’s indefinitely. Calleigh’s life especially. To say Alexx was worried about her would be like saying Newton was bemused about why things kept dropping on his toes.

Just ten days had passed since John’s funeral. The shortest and yet longest days Calleigh had ever experienced. She hadn’t been back to the gun range since the incident, and she’d be damned if she ever did again. For the time being, Calleigh was on leave, taking the well earned holidays she had saved up for the past twelve years. Monday signalled the ominous day she was to return to the hallways and to her new post in Trace. She could only imagine the stories floating around about her.

The car interior was beginning to feel very small. Her laboured breathing was making her head spin and she could feel bile start its way up. She had to get out, get out before she really made a fool of herself. At least Alexx’s house was larger than her car, and had large glass doors overlooking the ocean which would calm her down. The ocean always calmed her down. Calleigh wasn’t sure what emotion was affecting her most - the fear of confronting people who didn’t know the whole truth about John’s demise, or the hatred at herself for feeling scared. She swore to herself at thirteen years of age that she would never feel fear unless looking down the barrel of a gun.

Of course, that was what had happened. Near enough, anyway.

She shook her head and curled her hands into fists until she could feel the burn of ten crescent shapes into her palms. ’Get it together,’ she told herself, ‘You’re not this person.’

“Calleigh,” Alexx breathed, whipping the door open and wrapping her arms around Calleigh’s neck. “Oh, honey, I‘m so glad you came.”

“I’m not so sure yet,” she smiled lightly, folding into the hug. It was nice to have a hug that wasn’t from her pillow.

“Yeah, well, leave that to me. I’ll have you on karaoke in no time,” Alexx smirked, linking arms and guiding her inside.

“You have karaoke?”

“No, but that’s how much fun you’ll be having,” she winked.

There was a good turn out for the party, more than the year before. Calleigh’s breath caught in her throat for a second when she noticed all the eyes that had shot to her direction.

(She came.)

(She’s got some nerve.)

Alexx squeezed her arm and led her through the throng to the drinks table. “Here, get this down you,” she smiled, placing a glass of wine in her hand. “If anyone gives you any trouble, you just send them to me, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Calleigh sassed, but her eyes shone with the gratitude she felt. This wasn’t easy on her, and she knew that Alexx would understand the inner turmoil she was trying to hide.

Jonathon Woods slid up next to the pair and gave Calleigh a hug. “Happy New Year, Cal.”

“You too,” she smiled.

As much as he fought the urge to, he knew it would have been more than his life was worth to give Calleigh a ‘hang in there’ smile or head tilt. He had the pleasure of being at the end of the wrath of Alexx, but at Calleigh too? He didn’t fancy that. “Honey, we have a dip emergency.”

“There’s more in the cupboard,” Alexx said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Which… cupboard?”

She rolled her eyes to Calleigh in a fashion that said ‘See what I have to put up with?’. “I’ll be right back.”

Calleigh chuckled, “Okay.” She watched the husband and wife meander through the crowd and disappear into another room, leaving her to linger onto the guests again. Not allowing herself to hitch a breath again, she sipped at the glass in her hand.

(Huh, little black dress. More like little black widow, eh?)

She spotted Eric on the other side of the room, a bevy of beautiful interns and lab techs surrounding him. He gave her a wink when their eyes met.

Calleigh smirked, gesturing the women fawning for his attention. He held his hands up trying his very best to look innocent, but when girls where involved, Eric Delko was never innocent. She shot an incredulous look back and left him to adoring fans.

(Next victim?)

It wasn’t often that Calleigh Duquesne had been left to her own devices at a party. Sometimes the attention wasn’t much favoured, but she would give anything for a conversation not concerning death or guns or work in general. She would even go so far as talk about the weather or an equally mundane topic. She sipped at her wine again.

(I heard her Dad’s an alcoholic.)

(Huh, even her own friends must be scared of her.)

She found herself thinking back to the New Year’s party the year before, when two prominent guests where in attendance. She smiled, remembering how Eric and Tim where inseparable and surrounded by a hundred doe-eyed ladies. She wondered how Eric felt having all the attention to himself this year…

John had brought a woman along to the party, a Jenna, if memory served well. Calleigh remembered how Alexx told her that it was all for her benefit.

‘He wants you to see what you’re missing.’

‘Oh please, we’re not teenagers. He’s moved on, and so have I.’

‘Oh really, and who is this person that you have moved on with then?’

‘Okay, so he moved on a little more literally than I did, but I’m working every hour God sends, and that doesn’t exactly cooperate with a healthy love life.’

‘How many times have I told you that?’

‘Oh shush, you! I’m happy for John, but our ship has well and truly sailed. You wont be seeing him in my life like that again.’

The irony of the whole conversation sent another shot of pain shattering through her heart. She wanted so badly to see Tim hooking his iPod to the hi-fi, only to get a cup upside the head from Alexx; or to have John watching her over that girl’s shoulder.

(Is she crying?)

She blinked furiously, wiping at her cheeks. What the hell was she doing? What was she doing there? She couldn’t do this, she had to get out, she needed fresh air.

(Did you see that? She is crying. Where’s she going? Can you see?)

The air hit her over-heated skin and a flurry of goose-bumps travelled up her arms. She leant against the railing, holding a hand to her chest to try to calm herself down. She was panicking again. The doctor told her she probably would do, that it was perfectly normal. She just had to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl back into her bed and drown out her thoughts with the loudest music she could find. The thought of walking back through all those people, though, was almost enough to bring on another attack. She stared at the ocean for what felt like hours. She had always been drawn to the ocean, it was a place she could go to sort her head, hear her mind. It was soothing.

She closed her eyes and just listened to the waves, using the crashing of the water onto the beach as a guide to her breathing. Her heart beat finally slowed and the loud rushing of blood disappeared from her ears. It was perfect.

She slowly opened her eyes, the reflected moonlight on the water making them sting until they became used. It was then that she noticed the presence at her side.

“Good Lord, Horatio. You frightened the life outta me!” Her heart beat had elevated again from the shock. “You’re the quietest person I know.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked very peaceful,” he said, leaning against the railing next to her. He had watched from a distance as she sped from the room, and saw with distain the number of heads that followed her, only to turn back and whisper. He slowly made his towards her, knowing that she wouldn’t want him to see her without the strong, defiant façade he knew so well.

“Yeah,” she scoffed. Not altogether sure what ‘peaceful’ was anymore.

They stood their for a while, not saying a word but sharing a million conversations. There was something about Horatio Caine, just his presence had a calming influence. You didn’t need to utter a word, but your mind would be clear of all the questions it begged to ask but didn’t have the courage. It was something that had saved her on many an un-commented occasion. She didn’t know, but the feeling was reciprocated.

Eventually, Horatio gestured out to the burning horizon. “Red sky at night, should be a nice day tomorrow.”

Calleigh’s head snapped to him. “Yeah,” she smiled, her eyes shining. “Yeah, it should.”

“I always forget the rest of that saying. Red sky at night…”

Calleigh followed his eye line. “Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.”

“How on Earth do you know that?” her smirked, looking to her.

She chuckled, “I have no idea!”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that if you see a cow lying down it means there’ll be rain.”

“I don’t think that’ll really help us in Miami though…”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’ll tell you what I know, the Dolphin’s have really got to buck their ideas up if they want to get to the playoffs next season.”

“Oh I know! There defence is wide open! But did you see that touchdown in the closing minutes against the Giants?”

“They’ve still got the ability, they just need to use it more often,” Horatio muttered, gulping some more of his beer.

Calleigh nodded, her eyes slowly returning to the horizon. She had actually forgotten about everything for a minute there. Let herself get wrapped up in the mundane aspects of life that she craved for so much.

There was a commotion inside the house which Horatio and Calleigh both turned too. How had it gotten to the countdown already? Everyone was turned to the television, watching as the ball was dropping the final few inches. The guests were shouting the numbers, confetti flying through the air and noise-makers at the ready.

They all let up a cheer as it finally rang midnight.

Calleigh sighed, her back resting against the railing. “2006.”

Horatio put his bottle out in front of him. “To Tim and John, may you rest in peace in 2005.”

She gave a deep breath. “Tim and John. Always missed, never forgotten.” They clinked bottle to glass and took a sip.

They watched as people twisted their arms and joined hands, swinging on the spot and singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ as loud as they could muster.

“C’mon,” Horatio smiled, opening the door and making the singing that much louder.

Calleigh took another breath, deep and cleansing and nodded her head. She smiled a grateful smile at her friend and her boss, thanking him how they always thanked each other.

Once inside, Alexx beckoned them over to her group and let them slide in beside her as they joined in the traditional dance. Alexx, Jonathon, Eric - linked with his apparent pick of the ladies - all shot each other the same smile. One that said ‘Here’s to the new year and the new start. Things are going to be different.’

Some of the text is defiant and refuses to conform to the 'x-small' type face. Any larger text is not for emphasis, intentional nor appreciated. My computer just sucks.

HCR - 'Happy Endings Where Only for Movies' [Challenge Fic #018]

Tue, 25 Dec 2007 17:29:56 GMT

Title: Happy Endings Where Only for Movies.
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Characters/Pairings: Calleigh Duquesne / Horatio Caine. Calleigh Duquense / Jake Berkeley.
Rating: K
Spoilers: None, but Jake is no longer with the team, having gone back undercover.
A/N: Happy Holidays, everybody! I hope you're all having a good day xxx
Challenge Info: Fic: #18. Prompt: #03 - Love
Summary:

Watching the old movies in her youth had always given Calleigh a sense of hope for Christmas. Seeing Judy Garland sing by the window, or all of New York come together for one man who claimed to be the big man himself, that was how she imagined Christmas with her own family to be.

Children poking at presents under the tree, groaning when the wrapped surprises felt like boring clothes; a husband bringing her a glass of wine and snuggling in on the couch to watch the same old movies and have that warm feeling spread from her eyes to her toes that told her she was living the dream.

It was actually happening. Maybe a little later than she had planned for at 12 years of age, but happening none the less.

Little Jacqueline was wrapped up tightly in bed, eyes finally closed. It had taken a number of attempts to get the five year old to realise that Santa only came when good little girls had slept all through the night and didn’t wake up until it was at least daylight. Of course, she was a child of her mother’s and didn’t take orders – no matter how subtle – to heart all that easily.

She was told she was allowed to stay up a whole half hour past curfew, but had made it maybe fifteen minutes when her green eyes fluttered closed. She was carried to bed and hadn’t stirred since, allowing the adults some time to themselves.

Calleigh tucked her legs further beneath herself and sighed contentedly into Horatio’s chest. It was finally all coming together.

She could have kicked herself in that moment. She dared to think optimistically and in that instant came a knock on the door. She closed her eyes tightly; hoping whoever it was would just go away and let her enjoy the moment.

No such luck, as another knock sounded.

“Someone’s got to answer it, or Jacquie will think Santa couldn’t find the chimney and be down here in a flash,” Horatio whispered into her hair, understanding fully why neither of them had moved.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she replied, peeling herself from his embrace.

She padded into the hall, stopping for a moment to see if she could hear any little feet running around upstairs, before opening the door and promptly wanting to shut it again.

“Jake…”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Cal,” he smirked, looking her over in that way that had it been anyone else, it would have resulted in a burning cheek on him and a smarting hand for her.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. She didn’t know if she wanted to hug him or hit him. What the hell was he doing back there?

“What, no hug?” he asked.

“Jake, I….”

“Mommy!” A voice shouted from above. “Mommy, is it time yet?”

She closed her eyes, all the breath escaping her body. She spun on her heel, “No, honey. Go back to sleep,” she called up. Horatio appeared behind her, a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get her. Hello, Jake.”

“Horatio…” Jake wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

Horatio disappeared upstairs, but Calleigh couldn’t bring herself to move. Eventually she tore her eyes away from the confusion on her ex-beau’s face and took her jacket from the hook behind the door. She ushered Jake outside.

They sat on the step for a while, neither quite sure how to start the conversation. “So, do you want to start with the questions, or should I?”

“You’re a Mom?”

“I am. For the past five years,” she smiled lightly to herself, arms hugging her chest against the chill that ran through her body.

“Five? Is he… she…?”

“Yours? Yes, she is.”

He raked a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh with wide eyes.

“I found out I was pregnant when you went back undercover. I told myself that I wouldn’t tell you until I could tell you in person. I was so excited, Jake. I kept imagining what words I would use, or if I would be showing already and wouldn’t need to say a word. But…”

“But I never came back.”

“No, you didn’t.” She turned to him, seeing the regret, the confusion and the smallest flash of excitement skim across his features at a hundred miles an hour. “I tried to find you. I called everyone I could think of, tried every avenue, but it was like you just dropped off the planet. I didn’t know if I was more annoyed that I couldn’t get a hold of you, or more scared. And then she arrived.”

“You were alone?”

“For a while, yeah, it was just me and the baby. Horatio had been my rock, though. He helped me through every step, even calling people he thought could help get to you. Eventually… eventually I told myself that you wasn’t coming back and found happiness somewhere else.”

“With Horatio…” He breathed, gesturing to the rings on her finger.

She rubbed at the bands with a smile, “With Horatio. He’s been amazing, Jake. He’s so good with her.”

“Does she… does she know about me?”

“She’s still too young to fully understand, but she knows that she is incredibly lucky because she has two daddies. One who loved her but had to go away, and the one who choeses to love her.”

He turned on his concrete seat, facing her with emotional, yet numb, eyes. “Calleigh, if I had known, God, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere. I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I should never have accepted the assignment-”

She put her hand on his knee. “Jake, I know. I know, but life had to go on. It wouldn’t have been fair to Jacqueline to have missed out on what Horatio has given to us.”

“Jacqueline?”

“Mmhmm, Jacqueline Louise. Closest to ‘Jake’ for a girl I could find.”

He smiled. “And Louise for Louisiana?”

“I wanted to make sure she knew her roots,” she smiled, looking earnestly into Jake’s eyes. She could see him still trying to process everything. She was still trying to mentally pinch herself that this moment was actually happening. She had imagined this conversation so many times over the years, but had eventually resigned herself to never needing to. She had even tried to tell herself that Jake was dead, she might never have known otherwise.

Calleigh had to laugh, though; Jake was never one for good timing. Christmas Eve nearly six years later and he decides to show up? She couldn’t imagine what his brain was firing at him.

“How…how long you around for?” She asked.

It took him a minute to respond, his eyes cast to his feet in deep thought. “Erm, I-I don’t know. I don’t tend to think much past the present.”

Calleigh smiled, he hadn’t changed. “Okay, well listen. The ball is in your court now. Whatever you decide to do, we’re going to be here. Like I said, I want our daughter to know where she’s from, but that doesn’t mean that you need to be here if you don’t want to be. Horatio only wants what is best for Jacquie, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

“Does she call Horatio ‘Daddy’?”

She nodded, knowing that that probably hurt Jake the most, but knowing that he would understand. Horatio was who Jacquie knew as a father, and Calleigh was so thankful.

“Do you…do you want to see her? She should be sleeping, and she’s a light sleeper over Christmas, but if we’re quiet?”

Jake smiled and nodded. He hauled himself to his feet and followed Calleigh inside. Maybe she hadn’t changed physically, but everything else about her was different. She had a home now. A family home, with pictures on the walls and a toy box in the corner. It was everything she had ever wanted.

She guided him up the stairs, and through the door branded with a ‘J’.

It was dark, save for a shaft of moonlight through a gap in the curtain, and an ocean-themed revolving night light. She put a finger to her mouth as she sat down on the bed, brushing away a fallen strand of hazelnut-coloured hair. She looked back to Jake with a beaming smile.

He stood in the middle of the room, hugging himself, watching the sleeping child intently. He almost looked scared.

Calleigh held out her hand, ushering him forward. He took a step and held to her hand, kneeling beside the bed. “She’s beautiful, Calleigh,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

Calleigh nodded, knowing it already. Jacquie was beautiful inside and out. Her Mom’s green eyes, nose and cheek bones, but her Daddy’s jaw line and chin. Her hair was a mix of both her parent’s, along with her temperament.

Jacquie had inherited Calleigh’s stubbornness and killer stare, but her Daddy’s charm which had the same effect over Calleigh as it had from Jake all those years ago. Even though no blood, she could see so much of Horatio in the little girl as well, proving that nature didn’t mean everything, that nurture really did have a say in a child.

“I’ve missed so much.”

“There’s plenty more to come, Jake,” she whispered. They sat there for a while, staring at the child that would bind them together forever. His mind flashed with images of them as a family: Himself, Calleigh and Jacquie. The thought had certainly crossed his mind while away with the assignment, but he thought that he had well and truly missed the opportunity. Maybe he still had, but half of the equation was there: Jacqueline.

God, she was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. His baby girl.

They wandered downstairs afterwards, finding Horatio in the living room. “I thought you could use a drink,” he told Jake, handing him a glass of scotch.

“You thought right,” he replied, taking a large sip at the liquid. Calleigh disappeared into another room for a moment, leaving Jacqueline’s two daddies alone.

“Jake,” Horatio started, “I have to say something to you, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way. I was here for Calleigh when she was at her lowest over you. Although she can almost certainly handle herself quite efficiently, I have to say that if you hurt her –or that little girl- again, it won’t only be Calleigh you’ll have to watch for. Do you understand?”

“Horatio, believe me, I have no intentions to hurt either one. I was half expecting to return to the famous right hook anyway, never a kid though.”

“She is an amazing little girl, Jake. A credit to yourself and Calleigh.”

“And to you. You’ve raised her, and I thank you for that.”

“It is my pleasure. I may be her Daddy, Jake, but I can never be her father. That will forever be your gift.”

Calleigh returned and sat down at the kitchen table, Jake and Horatio joining her.

“I have to ask, Jake,” she started. “Where the hell have you been?”

His hands encircled the glass, his eyes intently watching the liquid. “It’s still not something I can openly talk about, but I was in Europe. I only stayed away for your safety, Calleigh. The people I was with…they would have stopped at nothing, you have to believe me. However much I hurt you, you have to know it was for your own good.”

Calleigh nodded, still fighting the urge to punch him for all the pain his disappearing act had given her. She grabbed Horatio’s hand at her side and he held on tightly, knowing that she wanted nothing more than to swing it at his face.

“I understand, Jake.”

His eyes found the entwined fingers of his former love and his former boss, and he didn’t know how much more he could handle. “I-I should get going.” He stood up.

“Wait, I want to give you something.” Calleigh took a picture from the mantle – herself and Jacquie at the park – and slid the photograph out of the frame. She scribbled Jacqueline’s full name and date of birth of the back, along with her age at the time it was taken, and slid it back into the wooden frame. “Here. Whatever happens, you should have something of your daughter.”

He stared down at the picture. “Thank you,” he whispered, tucking it inside his leather jacket and zipping it up. He turned on his heel and walked out the door. Horatio slipped an arm around Calleigh’s waist and held her tightly as she watched his figure disappear again.

Jacquie bounded down the stairs, almost two at a time, and threw herself on to her knees before the tree. “He came! He came!”

“Well, of course he did, honey. You’ve been very good this year,” Calleigh beamed, taking a seat on the couch. She hadn’t had much sleep that night.

Horatio sat down beside her, handing her a letter. “This was on the mat.”

She sighed, recognising Jake’s handwriting. Horatio went to his daughter’s side, helping her to read the tags on her presents.

Calleigh took the letter from the envelope and unfolded it with a heavy heart.

Calleigh,

The right decision has never been a strong suit of mine, as you well know. Whether my decision now is right or wrong, we will soon see, but it is the only fair one I can imagine.

Jacqueline has a family; a mother and father who love each other and love her. That is something that neither of us quite managed to find in our own childhood, and I’ll be damned if I come in between that for our daughter.

I will think of her every day, and love her forever, but she is in good hands. Maybe when she is older, you can show her this letter and I hope she will understand that I stayed away for her own good. I’m not ready to be a father, I’m still too much of a child myself.

Stay safe, Calleigh. Take good care of yourself and your family.

Be happy.

Love always,

Jake.

A sigh escaped her as she folded the letter up again. She couldn’t deny that a small part of her was happy. She was immensely happy with Jacquie and Horatio, she had built an amazing life for herself and was truly content. Yes, she would want Jacquie to know her father, and she would in time. When she was old enough, Calleigh and Horatio would sit her down and explain the whole situation to her. They would show her the letter, tell her how much her father instantly fell in love with her, and tell her all about Jake Berkeley. One day, when Jacquie wanted to, they would look for Jake again and go on from there.

Calleigh grinned as she watched Horatio’s hands be swatted away as he dared to help Jacquie open her presents. She put the letter on the mantle, in the gap that once held the photograph, and kneeled down beneath the tree.

Horatio pulled her to him and kissed her hair, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. She smiled and kissed his lips, whispering “Just us.”

Horatio nodded and kissed her again. “All we need, sweetheart.”

Calleigh nodded and joined in the fun of Christmas morning.

HCR - 'Pendulum' [Challenge Fic - #017]

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 14:24:18 GMT

Title: Pendulum
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Characters/Pairings: Calleigh Duquesne / Horatio Caine
Rating: K
Spoilers: None.
A/N: For Tricki, because the song it is somewhat based on is 'Pendulum' by the Indigo Girls
Challenge Info: Fic: #17. Prompt: #10 - Breakfast.
Summary:

The pigments of another Miami morning filtered in, banishing the dark for another 13 hours before its shift returned.

Calleigh pulled to a halt at the beach side. She wasn't surprised to see him already there, leaning against his Hummer, eyes cast to the horizon. He slowly turned to her as she broke the silence with her car door. He lifted off the car to meet her.

She smiled to him, her gaze drooping as he smiled back. The assault of cologne – expensive cologne – hitting her as she neared. It wasn't something she had the pleasure of often.

She held out the small white paper bag and takeout coffee. He thanked her and placed the cup on the hood of the car, taking a glance inside the bag and shooting her a bemused smile.

"I know you. You won't have eaten yet." She smirked.

"You're right."

It was becoming a regular thing – meeting at the beach for coffee. Usually only when one wouldn't be in work that day for a court appearance, conference…

This time it was Horatio who would be missing. He was due in court for the final day of testimonies for a case. It was yet another that had consumed his all and left him perilously close to the edge. She could see his every fibre almost jumping – excited to finally get his chance to convey his findings and the truth amidst the politics.

His blue eyes were glistening with the hell he was going to give them all. Lord, did she wish she could be there!

Confidence emanated from his every pore. His hands flared his suit jacket to the sides as they took their rightful spot on his hips. His hair slightly ruffled from the morning breeze helped along the boyish charm that would easily win over every female on that jury. His hands were resting just above his holster that housed his immaculately kept service pistol with which he rivalled her in accuracy. But she always liked a challenge.

"I should get going," he mentioned, breaking his gaze from the vista and his attention from Calleigh. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Of course," she grinned. "Your place or mine?"

His hands dropped from his hips. "I was thinking we'd go out…" he said, not sure himself if it was question or a statement.

"Horatio…" Her face contorted into apprehension.

"I think it's time. I hate feeling like we're doing something wrong, Calleigh."

Calleigh hated it too, hated little else as much, but it was logical. It was what they had to do. Wasn't it?

Horatio knew that her head would be firing different scenarios for every outcome. He pulled her too him and pressed his lips to hers.

"I'm not ashamed," he whispered as he pulled back, keeping hold of her hands.

"Neither am I, Horatio, but the consequences could be detrimental to our careers."

He kissed her again before climbing into his car. "Think about it. Let me know." He smiled and peeled out of the car-lot, leaving an air of disinterest to what hits his career might take. It wasn't the most important thing to him anymore.

Horatio sat on the wooden bench outside the court room, wondering -not for the first time- how expensive a cushion must be for the uncomfortable seats to still be bare.

"Lieutenant Caine?" The bailiff announced to the hallway. "Lieutenant Caine, you're up!"

Horatio stood and walked to the door, eyes following his steps from the other witnesses and experts for the case. Just as he was about to enter, his cell phone trilled in his pocket. He stopped short and flipped it open, reading the message from Calleigh.

'Let's do it. x'

And so it began...

HCR - ...Alibi.

Mon, 17 Dec 2007 19:13:12 GMT

Title: In Which the Context of the Piece is Incredibly Compromised and Whittled Down to Pure Fluff. ~~Also known as Alibi.~~
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: HCR
Rating: K

She saw him over the crowd, not one to be easily unseen. He was leaning against the railing, eyes cast to the sparkling horizon.

The busy hotspot wasn’t a usual meeting point, nor somewhere particularly suited for a one-to-one. Calleigh was intrigued to say the least. “Horatio?”

He spun to greet her with his trademark coy smile. “Thank you for meeting me here.” The fact that many a-man had followed Calleigh’s entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed to him.

“Anytime. Everything okay?”

“I need your help.”

She immediately steeled everything, her jaw setting and her eyes brimming with determination. “Okay.”

“I need an alibi.”

“Alibi?”

“Something is going down, but you’ll hear about it soon enough. I ‘d rather you be able to deny knowledge as much as possible.”

Calleigh nodded. “I understand. How can I help?”

“The details are in your court.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or be scared as he watched a mischievous glint form in her sparkling emerald eyes.

She subtly cleared her throat, her fingers curled to her mouth. Suddenly her hands flew to his arms, he instinctively grabbed her forearms. “No, Horatio! No, I can’t do this-” she almost shouted, then pushed herself into his chest. She kissed him, working to make it look as if against her will, before melting into him and the kiss. Her arms began to wrap around his neck, but she suddenly pulled back and slapped him straight across the cheek. She turned and walked away, putting an extra sway to her walk and leaving Horatio bewildered and tingling in her wake.

His eyes slowly peeled themselves away from the smouldering vixen ad to the shushed crowd. The males in the parties were firmly attached to Calleigh, while the women whispered among themselves about the live soap scene before them.

Alibi: check.

Calleigh Duquesne - 'Not Again' [Challenge Fic #016]

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 21:38:33 GMT

Title: Not Again
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Characters/Pairings: Calleigh Duquesne
Rating: K
Spoilers: 'Man Down'
A/N: They say write about what you know.
Challenge Info: Fic: #16. Prompt: #03 - Friends.
Summary:

Her head was bowed, her body moving on autopilot. Her mind chanting over and over "Get to the car. Get to the car." She vaguely registered that people were calling to her, saying hello, asking how Eric was, but all she heard was "Get to the car," and all she saw was her boots quickly walking out of the hospital.

If she focussed on her chant, the fact that Eric was lying on his possible death bed wouldn't mean she broke down. Not yet. There was a time and a place for grief.

Anyway, there wasn't anything to grieve. Eric wasn't dead. He was still breathing. He was just in a coma. He was healing. He was going to be fine. He wasn't going to die like Speedle.

She finally got to the car. She only realised because the full mid-day heat hit her body as she left the air-conditioned hospital. A shiver ran through her body.

She climbed in, her head still bowed, her mind still chanting. She put the keys in the ignition and leant across to the glove box. Her fingers numbly found the iPod adaptor and attached it. She flicked down to the genre she wanted and slammed the player into the slot.

Instantly the heavy drums and guitars loudly filled the car. Her head fell onto the wheel as she sighed deeply.

If she couldn't hear herself think, she couldn't remember that another dear friend had been the victim of a weapon she classed as her specialty. She could suppress the image of a prone, lifeless body she once knew to be so alive. Because he was going to die, wasn't he. He was going to die and everything would change again. Alexx would have to do the autopsy, she would have to examine the fatal bullet at close range and Horatio… God, Horatio wouldn't handle another death. Not Eric's. Not his brother-in-law's.

Her fingers blindly located the volume switch and turned the music even louder, drowning out her thoughts until all she could hear was the melody among the madness.

She took deep breaths. Deep breaths. She told herself another chant.

He will be fine. He will be fine. He will be fine.

HCR - 'Return from 1190 Miles' [Challenge Fic #015]

Thu, 01 Nov 2007 17:50:19 GMT

Title: Return from 1190 Miles
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: HCR
Rating: T
Spoilers: None.
A/N: Third in 1190 series. Carries on from #2 almost immediately.
Challenge Info: Fic: #15. Prompt: #19 - Home.
Summary:

Her bag dropped to the floor and her keys into the dish with a resounding thud and crash. A frustrated and increasingly angry sigh followed. “John? Are you home?” Calleigh called in to the quiet house.

John Hagen sauntered in from the bedroom, passing her on his way to the kitchen. The open beer in his hand explained the less-than-straight walking and the slurred “Welcome back.”

She watched with her mouth agape. A shudder passed through her in unspoken angered disbelief. “Welcome back?” she asked, following him. “Where were you? You said you’d pick me up from the airport nearly an hour ago! I had to call a cab after you didn’t answer

your cell phone. Now I see why…”

“Oh, don’t come off all high and mighty, Calleigh. I’m not in the mood.” John finished the remainder of his beer, throwing the bottle into the trash and grabbing a fresh one from the fridge.

“High and mighty? Are you serious? You’re drunk!”

“How else do you expect me to be? You go off for the weekend, back to Miami and back to him. That was the whole reason we moved out here in the first place!”

She didn’t want a fight. Well, no, that was a lie - she wanted a big stinking fight and to be given the excuse to walk out that door and never come back. She just didn’t have the energy for one, after the flight back to Chicago and everything the weekend had thrown at her. “I’m not going to talk to you when you’re like this, John. I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, really? I thought you’d had enough ‘bed’ this weekend, already!” Came a loud, slurred reply.

She stalked back to the kitchen, her blood beginning to boil even more so. Were they really going to get into this again? “What is that supposed to mean, John?”

“I called your hotel, Calleigh. The number you gave me on that little post-it note? They said you hadn’t checked in! You stayed with him didn’t you! You slept with him, you little whore!” He threw his still full bottle into the sink, glass and liquid flying.

Calleigh really had to fight with herself to not shout back. Lord, she fought so hard. She spun on her heel and marched to the bedroom. Her fists tightly balled, a million insults running through her head.

“Where are you going?” John shouted, following her.

“I’m not having this fight with you again, John! When will you ever grow up? I’ve fought with too many drunks in my life, had too many pissed insults thrown at me to just stand here and take it.” She pulled a suitcase down from the closet and threw it on the bed. “Call me when you’re sober and want to apologise.”

He stumbled into the room, catching himself on the dresser. “You’re not going anywhere!”

“You can’t even stand up! You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m going stay and listen to the jealous ramblings of a drunken man!” She threw clothes from the drawers into the case.

She went to pass him for the en-suite bathroom, but he grabbed onto her wrists. “I said you’re not leaving this house.”

Anger bubbled so intensely beneath her skin, blood loudly rushing to her ears. “Let go of me, John.”

“No!” He tightened his grip.

She pulled at her wrists, but he was holding on tight. She kept twisting and pulling and eventually managed to free herself, but not without injury. The force of John’s grip, and the sudden release of what he was holding, had catapulted his hand up and across Calleigh’s face.

A resounding slap sounded and she fell onto the bed. She instinctively brought her hand up to her cheek, though the adrenaline coursing through her veins disguised the pain she’d feel later.

It was as if everything had gone into slow motion, as she watched John struggle between reactions, not knowing what to do. She lifted herself up from the bed, almost Terminator like, and threw a punch so hard John fell to the ground with a bloodied nose.

“No-one ever has the permission touch me like that!” she spat, leaning over a thoroughly shocked John Hagen.

She zipped up the case and stepped over him. “Goodbye, John.”

“Calleigh, wait!” he called, scrambling to his feet in sudden soberness. “I didn’t mean to hit you, I’m sorry!”

She knew what had had happened was probably just down to physics and wasn’t intentional, but it was certainly the push she needed. She had vowed long, long ago that no man would ever touch her in such a manner, and she was by no means going to let John’s touch slide. “Goodbye, John.”

She picked up her car keys and the weekend bag and was gone.

Her mind was reeling. A million speeches ran through her head that she coulda-woulda-shoulda shouted back to him, the whole sequence of events plaguing her every blink.

She was just driving. She didn’t know where too and didn’t much care. She just needed to think.

What the hell was she going to do now?

She found herself pulling to a stop and looking out the window. Michigan River. Water was like a beacon to Calleigh. Ever since she was a child she would sit and stare at an ocean or a lake and be able to right any wrongs in her head. She often told herself that that was why Miami appealed so much to her.

She grabbed her now ever-present duffel coat and gloves and made for the waterside.

God, that had actually just happened. John had actually just hit her and she had actually just stormed out. Where was she going to sleep? Did she really want to stay in Chicago now that the one main pull - her fiancé - was never to return to the picture?

She struggled over the rocks and took a seat on a cold and dewy boulder, her eyes quickly casting over the shimmering horizon. So many questions ran through her head. So many questions with so few answers.

Calleigh brought a hand back up to her cheek, the tingling beginning to fight through the adrenaline. She took off a glove and ambled over the rocks to the water, dunking the glove in the ice cold mass. She wrung it out slightly before bringing it to her cheek to act as a cold compress on her way back to the seat.

Suddenly her footing slipped, sending her crashing down to the hard, bumpy surface.

Blackness.

“Goddamnit,” she uttered under her breath. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, a hand heavily making its way to her head.

“Good to see you, Miss Duquesne.”

Her eyes shot to the voice.

“I’m Doctor Covarrubias. You’re in Chicago Memorial Hospital, how do you feel?” The doctor pushed a lock of fallen blonde hair behind her ear and smiled warmly down to her new patient.

Calleigh cleared her throat. “Sore.”

“I can help you with that,” Covarrubias clicked a button on the monitor, increasing the pain killers.

“How long?”

“Have you been here? About two hours. Can you remember what happened?” The doctor watched as Calleigh’s eyes screwed up in contemplation. “You were on the side of Michigan River. Looks like you slipped and hit your head on a rock. Luckily a campus patrolman from the university keeps a lookout there for drunken kids and raised the alarm.”

Calleigh shut her eyes again and dragged a hand over her face with a sigh. She edged herself up the bed, the doctor helping position the pillows behind her.

“We’re going to keep you over night, just to be on the safe side, but I don’t think we’ll be having any problems.” A trill sounded from her beneath her coat. She pulled the beeper out and looked at the screen. “Okay, I’m going to have to go. You have a number of people waiting to see you,” she smiled, “ I’ll send your fiancé in, first.”

“My fiancé?”

Covarrubias stopped in her tracks, slowing turning back to Calleigh. “You-you don’t remember him?”

“Oh, I remember him, but he is not my fiancé.” She corrected, putting a cup of ice water back on the counter.

“Ah. I’m not sure if he knows that. Or believes it. Anyway, I’ll send someone else in.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Calleigh’s gaze drifted to the window as she waited for a visitor, her mind going over the events of the last few hours. Memories began to come back; her flight home, the impatient looks to her watch in the parking lot, her fight with John… but nothing came about how she ended up in the hospital with a bump to her head.

“G’morning, sleepy head,” a voice announced.

She turned to the voice, “Can I help you?”

The visitor sat down with a thud, shock etched across her features. “You don’t - Cal, it’s me. Krista, your boss?”

“Lord, I forget how gullible you are…” Calleigh grinned, dodging a playful punch.

“I’m so glad that part of your humour didn’t fall out when you cracked your head open,” Krista Montayne pouted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Me too,” she smirked. “So how’s John looking?”

“He was worried about you, in his own little way,” Krista relaxed back in her chair, twisting her back into a semi-comfortable position. She flicked a strand of her auburn bangs from her face and gestured to the waiting room behind her. “He practically arrested every doctor who passed for an update on you. He, er, he wasn’t too pleased when you let me in here instead of him. So you really over?”

She took a breath. “It was over when I got to Chicago. I just…”

Krista nodded, knowing the state of their relationship. It wasn’t hard to realise that what Calleigh and John had wasn’t as fruitful as she tried to make out. “What are you going to do?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Doctor Covarrubias returned to the room, letting Krista know that visiting times were nearly over.

“I’ll let you sleep. Come back tomorrow.” Krista said, standing up and smoothing her clothes out. She leant over and embraced Calleigh. “Don’t be doing this again, okay?”

“I’ll certainly try. Only ‘cos you asked so nicely.”

Calleigh watched her leave and settled into the pillows, her gaze travelling to the window again. It was beginning to rain, steady rivulets running down the glass. She watched them as her eyes grew heavy, letting herself have one good nights sleep before the worry of her future kept her up at night.

It was still dark out when Calleigh woke. She hadn’t heard the nurse turns her lights off or the sleeping figure in the chair arrive. “Horatio?” she whispered.

He didn’t flinch from his slumber. Who had called him? Had he really flown out just because she hit her head?

She decided that he still needed to catch up on his sleep, so the questions could be asked in the morning. She let her lids drift together again.

When she awoke again, this time with the sun greeting her a good morning, she could feel two eyes boring into her. A small smile grew on her lips as she turned her head, her fingers rubbing at the corners of her eyes.

She didn’t see quite what, or who, she expected too. “John?”

“How do you feel?” He asked, sitting forward in the chair. His shirt was crumpled as if he’d slept on the unforgiving hospital chairs.

She blinked. Had she dreamt Horatio? “Better. Nothing an aspirin won’t cure.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“What about you?”

“Cal, I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”

She felt awful. It was easy to forget how caring John Hagan could be at times. If you wanted someone to take care of you and fetch to your every whim, he was the go-to guy. It was just that Calleigh was brought up to reject the damsel image of southern women, she felt smothered around John at times, claustrophobic at times. His jealousy didn’t make matters any easier either.

John was just worried about her, and she banished him from the room the night before. “Listen, John, we need to talk. No shouting, so storming out, just talk. Okay?”

John’s eyes closed, his face contorting as if shot in the stomach.

“I’m sorry, John, but what happened yesterday still stands. I can’t remember my accident much, but I can still remember that we… that we broke up. I know that what happened in the bedroom was an accident, but it gave me the push that I had been searching for. You really are one of the sweetest guys I know, and I thank you for everything you’ve done for me, but it’s time we went our separate ways.”

John’s head drooped. “Man, I wish I knew that last night.” He sat straight up, stretching his back in different angles, supporting her theory about his night outside. “I understand though. Since coming here, we just seemed to have fought. I put it down to you missing - “

“Don’t say Horatio, John. Don’t make this out into a fight.” She warned.

“- Miami. I thought you were missing Miami, worrying about your Dad…”

Calleigh nodded, “That didn’t really help matters, no.”

He nodded, and waited a beat to take one last look at Calleigh. Capturing her face for the last time, he stood up and kissed her forehead. “I’ll miss you, Cal.”

“Goodbye, John.” She smiled sadly, keeping a lingering hold on his hand as he walked out.

It was always sad to see someone walk out of your life, no matter the level or kind of relationship you may have held. John had been a part of her life for such a long time, a time when she had lost people close to her. Not forgetting the people she had left for him.

She allowed herself a wistful recount of their time together, her eyes again cast to the world beyond window. She would soon be rejoining it, but stationed where, she did not know. She had to find somewhere to live, move her belongings from John’s, and all within the few spare hours she had from work.

A knock at the door broke her once again from her reverie. “Are you taking visitors?” A familiar voice asked, the door slowly being pushed open.

“Of course,” Calleigh smiled, recognising the whiskey tones instantly.

Horatio shut the door behind him with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to see you awake.”

“So you were here yesterday!” She smirked, thankful that her mind hadn’t played tricks on her.

“Yeah, I went before you woke so I could,” he checked over his shoulders, “bring you contraband.” He produced a tall take-out coffee cup from his jacket. Chicago’s most famous.

“You. Star.” She smiled, taking the cup. Perfect to her tastes as usual, she poked the hole in the lid and took a sip. “So, how come you’re here?”

“Got tickets to the Dolphins-Bears game.” He said, his face as straight as an arrow. “I got a call from Miss Montayne, asking me to tell your father about your accident.”

Her eyes must have registered her worry.

“I didn’t tell him. I thought I should check the facts before I go worrying him like that.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. He worries, and when he worries, he…” her hands gestured that he knew the end of the sentence.

He nodded. “So, how do you feel??”

“Slight throbbing, but the percussion band has gone which I‘m thankful for,” She smirked, copying verbatim Horatio’s words from the weekend.

“Hmm,” he smirked. “I hear you’re getting discharged today?”

“I am. Lord, this has been like a spa break,” she smiled.

“I can believe,” he smiled back. “I, er, also hear that you may not have a home to go to when you leave?”

“Yeah,” she said, the familiar bout of discomfort forming when talking about her love life. “It was a while coming, but bound to happen.”

“Well, you know you’re more than welcome to come back to Miami if you wished. We never could quite find someone matching your ballistics’ expertise…”

Why hadn’t returning to Miami crossed her mind? Other than her job - of less than four months - she had no real ties to the Chicago yet. She had made friends with her colleagues, but how lasting was a relationship of just a few months? There was still lab techs whom she just referred to by their department expertise…

Miami, though? It was still her home. Where her heart wanted to be.

“Listen, with what you’ve been through the last twenty-four hours, you don’t have to give me an answer yet. Just give it a think over?”

Calleigh nodded and took another sip of coffee. “Speaking of Miami, aren’t they missing you?”

“Are you kidding? Alexx practically drove me to the run-way.”

She chuckled. She missed that about Miami too: Alexx mothering everybody, Eric twisting everything into an innuendo, Ryan hanging on Horatio’s every word…

“Okay,” Doctor Covarrubias announced, walking into the room her head buried in her clipboard. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Definitely.”

The Doctor smiled, “Get dressed and I’ll have the nurse bring in your papers and pain killers.”

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.” Calleigh got a wink in return.

Now where?

At one time, Calleigh regarded the six month probation at work as a formality, now she saw it as a blessing. Within a few weeks her belongings where being shipped back to Miami, and herself on a plane heading in the same direction.

HCR - 'The End' [Challenge Fic 014]

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 21:26:41 GMT

Title: The End
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Character/Pairing: Horatio/Calleigh. Suzi. Maddison.
Rating: K
Spoilers: None.
A/N: Humor/Parody
Challenge Info: Fic: #14. Prompt: #07 Not Enough
Summary:

“I never thought it would end like this.”

“Nothing has ended yet, Calleigh,”

She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves for what was to come and reinstalling her optimism she had when it all kicked off. “I don’t have much left,” she said, putting the gun on her lap.

“Me neither,” Horatio stooped low, scanning underneath the car for their assailants.

“What’s the plan?” She pressed her back against the door, ignoring the discomfort from the cold concrete below her.

“Spray. They’ve approached too far to be trigger-cautious. The only option we have is to spray.”

Calleigh nodded tightly, gripping the pistol in her hands.

“On three.” They cocked their weapons. “One…two…three!”

They spun as they stood up, fingers pressing firming on the triggers, a steady stream of water shooting out the end.

But it was too late.

He was hit.

A flash of wet struck across Horatio’s shirt. He dropped to the floor.

“No!” Calleigh called, falling to his side, cradling his head on her knees. “No, Horatio, speak to me! Your own flesh and blood. Your own flesh and blood! Why? Why?” She drooped dramatically over him.

“Erm, Uncle Horatio?” Madison asked, standing over the two, not sure whether to laugh or worry.

“Yes, Princess?” he asked, his eyes snapping open.

She giggled and climbed into a hug, before racing off to her friends again.

“You two took that way too seriously,” Suzy smirked, tossing them both a towel.

“Guns are serious business, Miss,” he said, full authority in his voice as they stood.

Suzy swooped to pick up the ‘gun’. “They’re water guns!”

“Still gun in the name.”

She rolled her eyes, “C’mon, he BBQ’s ready.” She lead them to the grill which sat under a banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday, Maddie!”

Calleigh Duquense - 'Routines' [Challenge Fic 013]

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 13:49:23 GMT

Title: Routines
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Characters/Pairing: Calleigh Duquense. Kenwall Duquense.
Rating: K
Spoilers: None.
Challenge Info: Fic: #13. Prompt: #16 Resentment
Summary:

Another night. Another bar. Another stakeout.

Calleigh slunk further down behind the wheel of her car, shuffling her body into a comfortable position. She flicked the radio to another station. She hoped it wouldn't be much longer. Regardless of the service pistol still in her possession, the self defence techniques she often executed, or the southern charm she worked so well, the pitch black still uneased her.

Street lamps cast circular illuminations onto the parking lot she was in. Insects and bats danced in the lights and gave her something to watch while she was waiting.

She loathed spending her free time like so, but it proved easy than the alternative. Unfortunately, it was experience with the alternative that had taught her so.

Her eyes flicked to the bar door for the umpteenth time that night, praying that he'd just give up the goat and go home, and finally her prayers had been answered.

Kenwall Duquesne swung on the door, laughing to himself as he narrowly escaped a broken nose. He stumbled his way to his car, his hand digging in his pocket for the keys. Another inch of respect fell to the wayside again as she watched her hopelessly inebriated father attempt to drive himself home, when he could barely walk a straight line.

Calleigh sighed and started her own engine, inching herself back up the seat-rest. She followed her father onto the, thankfully, deserted Miami roads and onto his safe route home. This was her nights - praying that her father would be able to drive himself home without killing anybody. If she followed him and something happened, she'd be able to respond to the incident. Lord knows she'd tried enough times to get him to relinquish his keys, but he had just gone to Budget and rented a car instead. Anything for that shot of whiskey. So, she'd taken to just following him.

Kenwall weaved across the lanes and took some near misses with the embankment, all without noticing the small Audi in his rear-view.

His erratic driving had garnered some other attention this night. A motorcycle cop emerged between Calleigh and her father's car, high-low's blaring and lights flashing. Calleigh slowed as Kenwall pulled to the shoulder with the bike in tow.

She took a wide birth as she passed the commotion, watching the cop approach the drivers side in her mirrors. She wondered if she'd still get a phone call later that night. Would he want to be picked up? Or would he rot in embarrassment in the holding cells of MDPD?

Either way, she decided she was unplugging all phones when she got home. Even if he was in the cells, he would be safe for the night, and it might even teach him a lesson. Or so she hoped.

Calleigh Duquense - 'Lieutenancy' [Challenge Fic 012]

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 21:56:51 GMT

Title: Lieutenancy
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Character/Pairing: Calleigh Duquense.
Rating: K
Spoilers: 5.01
Challenge Info: Fic: #12. Prompt: #20 Close, but Far
Summary:

Lieutenant Calleigh Duquesne.

God, it had been fun. The power trip she'd been working towards without really realising so.

She stared at the shiny crest in her hand - it was time to give it back to its rightful owner. She was definitely going to miss it. But, Miami wasn't her city to reign over. As much as she had succeeded in Horatio's absence, and had enjoyed the fight, it wasn't her fight.

To be honest, though, there was some aspects of the role she would gladly hand back. How Horatio handled the paperwork and politics of the title was something that just added to her admiration for him.

No successor could even hope to be able to achieve what Lt. Caine had, and hopefully, now that he and Eric were back from Rio, he would continue with his mission. The crest belonged to him and only him as long as he still had the passion for the job.

That was another additional point of admiration for Calleigh to the man - how he managed to keep such passion and furore for his job, when it was said job that had cost him so much. His family, his friends, almost his life on more than one occasion.

As much as she loved Miami, without Horatio in the drivers seat, she didn't think she would stick around the city. She loved the day-to-day challenge, but to be in constant fear that that day would be her last, or Horatio's last, or the last of someone else she cared about…

She knew that wherever she went, that level of fear would not go away, but she might be able to take a day off and enjoy it. Might be able to forget all she had lived and seen for long enough to enjoy a meaningful relationship, or a friendship not forged on experiences unimaginable to those who hadn't been there.

Yes, the lieutenancy of the city of Miami was not suited to Calleigh Duquesne.

New Orleans, on the other hand, might be exactly what she was looking for. The position was open, her name had been dropped thanks to her old colleagues, all it need was a signature on the dotted line. Could she really leave Miami so soon, even with the pinnacle of her career so close she could just about touch it…?

Calleigh Duquense - 'Box' [Challenge Fic 011]

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 21:54:03 GMT

Title: Box
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Character/Pairing: Calleigh Duquense
Rating: K+
Spoilers: 5.02
Challenge Info: Fic: #11. Prompt: #18 Shower
Summary:

It was a feeling like no other. No other activity could relax Calleigh in the way a hot, powered shower could. The heavy droplets beating an almost tuneful beat against her skin, stepping into the spray so they could drum their way on to her face and hair.

They washed away the stresses of the day, not to mention the humid air that stuck wayward sand grains to dewy passers-by.

She rubbed the shower gel into her skin, the mint fragrance tingling and assaulting her senses beautifully. She closed her eyes and stood directly under the water, the soap disappearing down the plug.

Suddenly, a sequence played behind her eye-lids:

Crash.

Water rising.

Confusion.

Radio quieting.

Blood rushing to ears.

Water rising.

Gasping.

Burning.

Panicking.

Calleigh pushed away to the far side of the shower cubicle, gasping painfully for breath, hand clutched to her heaving chest.

All she wanted to do was cry. Slide down the filmed window and finally break down. Relinquish the hold of all pent up emotions to do with that day and that incident.

But she refuses. She can’t let herself give in.

She takes deep breaths, ignoring the rapid heartbeat beginning to make her dizzy, the incessant shouting from within for her to run away, the trembling of her limbs.

She pushes herself away from the door and back under the spray. Her tears mingling unrecognisably against the flowing water.

A sound escapes her and she pulls away again, only to return to the spray a second later.

She has to do this. She cannot let another fear ruin her life. She has to gain control of it. Has to. Has to.

HCR - 'Hardwood' [Challenge Fic 010]

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 21:49:18 GMT

Title: Hardwood
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: Horatio/Calleigh
Rating: K+
Spoilers: None
Challenge Info: Fic: #10. Prompt: #13 Dark
Summary: One of Horatio Caine's main orders as Lieutenant of CSI was that, once a month, he took his colleagues out to show his appreciation for all their work. It was also a good chance for the team to bond, unwind and generally have fun.

He would give them a place and a time and feel the energy in the building elevate instantly. Of course, it wasn't mandatory attendance, but few had missed the night out for the last six years since it's inception.

This time, they were all to meet up at Sassimi's, a dance-and-drink club off the beach. It was a tiny little building in a residential area - hardly the place for a nightclub- and the team could only imagine how Horatio knew about it. He may seem like a work-aholic, but appearances were certainly deceptive with that man. He was often in attendance when a new club opened up - the owners liked having the lieutenant in presence, it showed good intentions.

Because of the location, the building was practically 100 soundproof, only when the doors opened did latino beats cascade onto the streets. Not to mention a strong beam of multicoloured lights illuminating better than the street lights ever could.

The clientele varied in age, mid-twenties to late thirties they thought. It was easy to see that every one there were amazing dancers. Salsa, merengue, hiphop…whatever tune the DJ spun, the patrons knew the right dance and the right moves for each.

Calleigh was happy just to sit and observe - to watch Eric dancing with a leggy blonde and joke that she hoped the club carried a crowbar to pry the two apart. Even Ryan seemed to have struck it lucky with a girl by the bar, though they disappeared to a quiet area a bit ago.

Alexx and her husband Jonathan enjoyed a dance or two, but admitted that they couldn't keep up with the young folk' anymore.

"But you, honey," she said, turning to Calleigh, "Are much too young to still be sitting."

"I'm not much younger than you!"

"Yeah, but I've had two kids. My hips don't shake like they used too," she smirked.

Horatio looked down with a smile, before standing up and offering his hand to Calleigh. "May I have this dance?"

"Why, thank you, kind sir." Calleigh smirked, accentuating her accent and shrugging off the jacket from her shoulders.

"Watch it, Horatio. The drawl's out, she means business." Jonathon laughed.

Horatio and Calleigh walked the little bit to the dance floor, bypassing the already dancing couples as a new song began.

He slid his hand to the small of her back when they found a clearing. She placed her hand on his shoulder and brought their already connected hands higher. The music was deceptively slow, but both knew the outcome to the tune - the undercurrent beat was unmistakable. "You ready?" he asked, as they began to dance.

"Are you?" Calleigh sassed, hoping she could still remember all the moves.

The sound of the record scratching sounded through the club as the tune suddenly went up tempo and showed its true colours - Tango.

They shared an intense look, tension rising into an almost pulsing vibe matching the music.

They began to move. Mirroring the other's steps perfectly as they danced with smirks spread across their faces. They had no doubt that the other would know the steps - Calleigh had too much sway in her hips, and too much fire was buried within Horatio - but the mesmerised stares from their colleagues, seen during the spins, enticed smiles.

Soon, they began to notice more room had opened up for them, as the other couples stood back to watch them.

When Calleigh pulled in tight to wrap her arms around Horatio - to symbolise the emotional pull and fight the lovers of the dance had over each other - she noticed for the first time the change in her partner. His eyes had darkened to a captivating cerulean blue and his demeanour dripped with the sexual tension the dance called for. If she hadn't seen his eyes, she'd have said he was as good an actor as he was dancer… but those eyes.

She found herself staring straight into them at every opportunity during the dance. They bore right into her, almost making her feel uncomfortably bare if she wasn't so incredibly turned on.

As she stalked around his stationary figure, arms trailing behind her on his torso, he pulled the sticks from her hair, sending it cascading over her shoulders as she stroked a leg against his.

He spun her around - hair whipping around - and dipped her low as the song came to a stop, the crowd erupting into applause and catcalls. Horatio was so close to her, his lips barely inches for hers, his eyes unblinking as they looked into her.

If she was to say a word, their lips would touch and she couldn't think of anything more in the world she wanted in that moment. She could barely think, period.

She watched as he swallowed and pulled Calleigh back to her feet, another song beginning to play over the systems.

Calleigh swallowed too, composing herself as she smoothed out her dress, praying that her legs would hold her. She looked back and Horatio had disappeared. She searched the bobbing crowd for his unmistakable hair, but couldn't see him. Instead, she saw Alexx coming towards her, her drink in hand. "Sweet heaven, where'd you guys learn to do that!"

"Where is he? Can you see him?" Calleigh asked, pouring the liquid down her dry throat.

"I think he went outside, he passed me in a bit of a hurry. I'm not surprised he needed some fresh air after that. How many times have I told you… two…" her sentence filtered out by the disappearing figure.

Calleigh fed her way through the throng - bypassing an onslaught of interested men - and to the front doors. The music and light filtered back into the street as she left the air-conditioned club for the humid street. The temperature made little difference to that of her own body's.

She surveyed the darkened street, heading spinning for a glimpse of Horatio. She didn't know what to think. Had they just ruined their working relationship irreconcilably? Would they be able to be in the same room without awkward glances and shifting of feet? What about their colleagues - would they be able to see them in the same light?

She finally spotted a figure leaning against the wall and gingerly made her way towards it.

"So, Alexx just about offered me a cigarette…" she smiled, hoping to shoo away the elephant in the bushes.

Horatio just looked to her, those same intense eyes boring into her - this time with uncertainly and… embarrassment?

"Are you okay?" she asked him, stepping closer.

"Do you know how many times I've danced that? How many partners?" He said, standing straighter. "Not once - not once, Calleigh- has it been given so much justice as then. That scares me."

"Why does it scare you?" her hand found its way to his arm.

"Because the Tango is a dance between lovers, Calleigh! Not between friends and work colleagues. I knew that we had a connection, Alexx had mentioned it often enough, but a connection that ran that deep?" His head drooped, he'd said too much. His mouth was voicing his mind more than he had hoped.

Calleigh stepped up close to his body and nudged his chin up to her level. "We tell people that there's an explanation for everything, Horatio, but that's not always true. Some things don't have forensic reasoning, just chemistry…" She fell against his chest, playfully touching his lips with her own, hoping he'd take the bait and give in.

She felt a hand snake onto her waist before a firm kiss melted against her lips.

Her whole body was alive with tingles, travelling from lips to toes and back up again.

She brought her hands up to cup his face, giving the kiss everything that had been pent up from their dance and whatever had been buried beneath the surface for those 9 years together.

The sudden sound of music and beam of light ripped them from each other and back to reality. Calleigh's fingers flew to her lips as she shuffled away from Horatio. She dreaded to think where her lipstick was right now…

"I was just - just checking - that…" Alexx muttered from the doorway, fighting with all her might to not grin. "I'm going to go back inside." She spun on her heel and disappeared again.

"Erm…" Calleigh managed to utter before bursting into giggles, her forehead slamming into Horatio's shoulder in climactic relief. Oh, the elephant had gone alright, but she didn't think she was going to lose Alexx at all the next day.

"Think we should go back inside?" Horatio asked, his voice a slight huskier. He smoothed down a lock of Calleigh's tussled hair.

"I think we'd better. But you're sitting next to her!"

HCR - 'Relaxation Therapy' [Challenge Fic 009]

Fri, 11 May 2007 21:56:45 GMT

Title: Relaxation Therapy
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: Horatio/Calleigh
Rating: K
Spoilers: None.
Challenge Info: Fic: #09. Prompt: #08 Touch
Summary:

The file was complete, her work was done and her bed was calling her name. Calleigh flicked through the manila folder, checking her print outs for those elusive typos that tired eyes could have missed. Finding none, she shut it between her hands with a relieved sigh and took to the steps leading to Horatio’s office.

The last place she would have expected to see Horatio Caine was in there. His office had become a starting point to his day and not much else. Although glass walled, it had no view of the beautiful vistas, nor natural sunlight, so seemed more like a open plan prison where the punishment was paperwork. Lots of paperwork.

So to see the man himself - head lolled on his desk, eyes shut - was more than a surprise. She tried to catch the door before it sweeped back into place with a loud whoosh, but to no avail, closing her eyes in hope that he might have slept through the noise as she spun back to face him.

No luck. Horatio stirred from his slumber, eyes glancing in all directions in sleep-dazed confusion.

“I am so sorry, Horatio. I had no idea you were sleeping or I would have kept this for tomorrow,” she said, stepping closer and gesturing to the file.

“No, no. Don’t apologise,” he straightened up, face registering the pain of the watermelon-sized crick in his neck. “Damn. How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” she smiled, checking her watch, “It’s Nine-Thirty now.”

“Damn,” his hands kneaded at his neck. “Damn,” he muttered again.

“You’re allowed to sleep, you know,” she smirked, crossing to his desk. She put the file down and took position behind his jacket-draped chair, replacing his hands with her own. “It won’t diminish your hero status. Even Clark Kent had to sleep some.” Her fingers worked to loosen the tension in his shoulders. There was more than just a crick there - more like Forty-Seven years of hardships and stress. The crick was barely a snowflake on the tip of the iceberg.

Horatio smirked at her remark, quickly - and involuntarily - losing himself in her workings. His head lolled forward again, allowing her hands to roam freely. She added more pressure, her thumbs moving in circles along his spine, her fingers squeezing at his shoulders.

His breath was beginning to even out, relaxation finally enveloping his body.

“There isn’t much more weight these shoulders will take, handsome.”

He sighed, as if fully agreeing with her but lacking the energy to do anything about it.

“You’re very good at that, you know,” he said a while later, looking over his shoulder to her.

She smirked, leaning down to his ear. A sheath of hair fell as she whispered, “I’m more than just a pretty face and a killer aim.”

He chuckled, “I never doubted.”

She smirked, stilling her hands on his shoulders. “Okay, how about a proper sleep now? You know: bed, pillow, snoring. Dreams of red capes and dodgy underwear practices?”

“I’m sure I can achieve some of that…” he chuckled.

Calleigh moved back to the door. “I am going to phone you in a half hour, and if you’re still in this office…” she pointed accusingly and gave him a stern, but playful, look.

Horatio smiled, standing up and pushing his chair away from the desk. He held up his hands in defence mode.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”