A Hero's Valentine

A/N: Here's a little something for my fellow H and Calleigh fans. The DuCaine lover in me could not resist when this idea came to mind. I truly hope you enjoy!

Horatio Caine hauled himself into the driver's seat of his car in the early hours of the evening and as preamble to starting the vehicle, he merely sat, bathing in all too familiar silence. His thoughts roamed free as they did every spare minute of his days, and he was struck down further with the idea that this silence, this loneliness, would follow him into the desolate space that he tried to consider home.

He ran a weary hand through his auburn hair and fumbled with his keys before starting the car and driving off. As the sun faded on the horizon, the redhead thought back to how bright it had actually been as he strolled from the Hummer and onto the grounds of Holy Redeemer Cemetery in the early morning.

The crispness of the grass as he sat closely, the gentle yet humid breeze, and especially, the sensation of a carefully selected flower perched in his aged hands. Of all the motions he would go through in his life, these would be the ones to go unforgotten until the day he joined his late lover in Heaven.

The sun was persistent as he rested his arms on his knees, but he could have cared less. He mustered every bit of strength he had to speak, and he did so ever so softly.

"I...I don't know about today Mari. Without you next to me, I don't know how long I can hold it together," he confided quietly. The soft tone that he took on did not matter, for his words were loud with sadness and emotion. For how long he sat holding back tears, he wasn't sure.

Time had never been on his side. Especially when it came to his dearest Marisol. With a glance at his watch, he sighed painfully.

"Happy Valentine's Day Sweetheart. I love you."

The workday had been long and hard, a lasting case keeping them busy for the entirety of it. At one point, he had left the lab to follow a lead with Eric, and it had nearly cost him his life.

The Hummer came to a halt in front of the house in Coral Gables, the sleek black Dodge Challenger sitting in the driveway signifying the presence of their suspect. Horatio exited the passenger side and shut the door. He stood for a moment, waiting for Eric to make it over to his side.

Delko had barely made it past the front bumper when the first of many nine millimeter bullets flew by Horatio's head, only missing it by a literal inch. The redhead dropped low to the cement and dodged bullet after bullet as he ran behind the large response vehicle in search of cover. After locating the source of the shots by way of muzzle flashes, the two laid down returning fire and took cover once more as the supply in their magazines dwindled.

They heard the distant sirens of backup units along with their own heavy breathing. The persistent firing had ceased, but they didn't dare risk it.

"Jesus, H! Are you alright?" Eric huffed while placing a concerned hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I'm good brother...I'm good," he assured. Aside from his rapid heartbeat, he was certain that he was unharmed. The arrival of backup was a blessing, and the house was cleared. Their shooter was laying in a pool of blood and shell casings, a nine mil sized GSW expertly placed in the middle of his forehead.

They collected the gun and shell casings, along with the bullets lodged in the department Hummer. It would have to undergo a bit of bodywork and have a passenger side window replaced, but it was a small price to pay.

Eric and Horatio drove off towards the lab, and as he brushed a bit of shattered glass from the shoulder area of his expensive jacket, he found himself unconcerned with the fact that he had almost been killed.

His keys hit the ground as he attempted to unlock the front door of his house and he cursed under his breath as his back protested the attempt at retrieving them. The house the eerily silent as usual, with nothing more than the sounds of his small movements permeating the air around him.

The redhead rested his keys on the kitchen counter and walked off towards the bedroom. By then, the feeling of loneliness in his heart had deepened, and he tossed his dark jacket on the bed and walked back into the living room. He haphazardly dropped down onto the couch and closed his eyes tightly.

Everyone's out on a date tonight, and I'm sitting here like the lonely old man that I am, he thought to himself.

Through the haze of sorrow that he found himself in, he ambled into the kitchen wearily. The amber liquid flowing into the glass trembled with his hands as he held back his tears, the ache in the back of his throat becoming more apparent every second.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hold back any longer. As the tears streaked down his face, their bitterness met that of the sweet Irish Whiskey that he gulped. At a complete loss, he refilled his glass unsteadily and returned to the living room. The drink sat on the coffee table, going untouched by the man who had poured it. He let out a single shuddered breath, and admitted defeat as he convulsed in a painful fit of sadness.

He stayed that way for the longest time, his hands cradling his head as he cried. The name of his late wife spilled from his lips repeatedly, and through his cries, he failed to acknowledge the distant knocking that echoed throughout the house. And then, he heard it.

Her voice was muffled, yet angelic as she called his name from outside the door. The concern was evident in her words, and he quickly swiped the stray tears from his face before getting up to answer the door.

She waited several moments in between knocks, and by the third, a sense of fear began to course through her veins. The cadence of the locks coming undone soothed her worried soul, but as the front door swung open, she found herself shocked at the sight of the man before her.

His normally crisp long-sleeve shirt was wrinkled and his fiery auburn hair was notably disheveled, far from being neatly combed as it usually was. But was unnerved her most, was the cold expression marring his pug-Irish face. It was as if he was in a haze, as if his mind wasn't with his body. But for the most part,

he looked completely lost.

"Calleigh," his smoky voice broke the sudden tension and he stood off to the side, motioning for her to come in. The blonde Ballistics expert stepped inside and he noted the items that she held in her hand.

"Horatio...you left these in firearms," she spoke while handing off his wallet and sunglasses. The tremor in his hands did not go unnoticed as she held them out to him. As he accepted his belongings, he kept his head down, hoping to hide the evidence of his pain from the woman before him.

"Horatio, are you okay?" Her voice reflected that of genuine distress, and he raised his head just as the tears he'd been holding back escaped their boundaries. Horatio pressed his lips together and shook his head before collapsing into her arms.

"Oh, Horatio." Her voice broke with emotion as she held onto him tightly. Slowly but surely, she moved him over to the couch and eased him down, not letting go of him for anything. His body trembled as he sobbed uncontrollably and in turn, Calleigh held him tighter and rubbed soothing circles around his back.

"It's alright, handsome. Just let it out. I've got you."

The cadence of her beautiful Southern accent did wonders to comfort his agony-gripped soul, and once he found his words, Calleigh felt as though she'd been shot straight through the heart.

"Oh God, it hurts so bad Calleigh." Though his words were muffled, they were unmistakable. The redhead continued to cry, and she joined him.

"I'm sorry Calleigh...I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Don't apologize, handsome. You'll get through this, I know you will. I'm here for you."

"I'm not sure I will." His cries eased into hiccuping breaths, and she gently moved him from her shoulder. Emerald irises met azure, and she did her best to reassure him.

"Hey," she cooed calmly. "Don't say that. You're the strongest man I know. You'll get past this no matter what. And if you can't do it alone, then I'll do it with you. I don't want you to hurt anymore, Horatio."

They sat quietly for several moments and this time, it was Horatio who brought her in for a hug.

"Thank you."

Calleigh couldn't remember a time where two words were spoken with such meaning. They pulled apart, and she watched as one last tear made its way down his face.

Cal lifted her hand slowly, and he closed his eyes as she caressed his cheek, ridding it of the lone droplet. When his eyes fluttered back open, they searched her own, and he found his heart beating rapidly as they grew closer to one another.

This time, they both closed their eyes contentedly as their lips met, a passionate, lingering kiss being the product of their care for each other. The pain in his heart faded into a sense of hope, and as he listened to her angelic voice, hope was exactly what he felt.

"Too soon?" The Bullet Girl whispered.

"Not soon enough, sweetheart." He retorted before drawing her back in for a loving, tender kiss.

The end