Title: A Hand to Hold On To
Author: Andrea ([email protected])
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to H/C; and so, to my own muse I must be true.
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Inspiration for fic comes in strange forms-I went to the movies the other night and a 3-second snip of a scene gave me the idea for the last scene in this piece. That idea went quite well with my need to write about Calleigh losing her nerve to handle a gun. I'll probably explore this from other angles, but for now, this is what I had to write.
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.
*****
Horatio sat at his desk signing a monstrous pile of incident reports accumulated by his team. The recent heat wave had not bode well for crime in his town. All the "crazies" had apparently come out to play over the last few days.
His landline rang and he answered it with a terse, "Horatio."
"Uh, H, there's trouble down her. I think you should come-NOW," Speed muttered, still dazed.
"What's happening out there, Speed? Hold on a sec, my cell's ringing. Hang on."
Horatio clicked on his cell, only to hear Delko nearly screaming, "H. You better get down here fast! All Hell broke loose.Calleigh's in trouble."
Without another word to either caller, Horatio disengaged both phones and broke into a full run toward the door.
*****
The Hummer careened through the streets at breakneck speed, heedless of any number of traffic laws. Taking the last corner on two wheels, Horatio brought the truck to rest just outside the yellow crime scene tape marking a wide perimeter around the entrance to Monkey Jungle Park, one of many local wildlife attractions in Miami proper.
As he stepped out of the truck, Eric Delko met him.
"What the Hell happened? Where's Calleigh?" he demanded to know.
Delko pointed toward a guard shack at the front gate saying,
"She's in there with Foreman now. She's not hurt, really, but she's.I don't know, she's messed up, H," Delko lamented.
Horatio sprinted toward the shack, nearly breaking down the door with his emphatic entrance.
"Calleigh, don't say another word," he cautioned.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Lieutenant Horatio Caine," came the gruff voice of the man seated opposite Calleigh.
"Marcus Foreman. Internal ass., ahem, excuse me, Internal Affairs watchdog. Just think of me as Detective Duquesne's attorney-no one interrogates her without me present-clear?" Horatio said pointedly, glaring at the IA representative.
Foreman rose and sluggishly ambled to the door.
"No problem. She's not talking anyway. She's like a freakin' zombie over there. If you can get her to talk, we need a statement, ASAP."
Foreman stepped outside the shack and popped an antacid tablet behind his lips.
*****
Calleigh sat unmoving and unblinking staring into the space just over Horatio's shoulder.
Treading lightly for fear he might spook her even further, Horatio scooted a second chair in front of hers and sat down, letting his knees just barely skim hers. No reaction was forthcoming.
He tried another tack. He bent down onto one knee on the floor beside her chair and ever so gently covered her hands, crossed in her lap, with both his own.
"Calleigh, baby, it's me. It's Horatio. Can you hear me?"
She nodded half-heartedly, but said nothing.
Encouraged, he pressed on. "Everything's OK now. You're fine. Will you talk to me about what happened out there? I can't help you if you don't fill me in."
As he watched her, a menacing change took place. Her previously blank, stoic face crumbled, becoming twisted, anguished. A single fat teardrop dangled from her bottom lashes and fell onto his hand.
As if awakened from a trance, Calleigh breathed deeply, her shoulders and chest rising in unison, and blinked rapidly, clearing her head and collecting herself. She's armed herself for battle, he thought, we can get to the bottom of this thing now.
"Horatio, what about the girl? How is she? I have to know, Horatio. You've got to find out for me!" she cried.
"What girl, Calleigh? Slow down and start at the beginning."
Her hands still sheltered by his, Calleigh began her account of the events that had led them here. She, Speed and Delko had been called out to investigate a drive-by shooting-a young mother taking her daughter to the Monkey Jungle was hit twice from behind, once in the back and once in the thigh. The shooter knew what he was doing.
"Alexx and I agree that it's most likely not random. She was executed. The ticket taker at the gate saw some of what happened and was able to run out to the daughter, grab her and push her out of the line of fire. He called MDPD. They called us."
"OK, I'm with you so far. Go on." Horatio prodded.
"When we got here, the mama was dead and the girl was horrified. Lizzie from Children's Social Services was trying to work with her and distract her while Alexx loaded the body in the wagon. Just as they lifted the gurney toward the back of the van, the daughter saw what was happening and started screaming and running toward Alexx. We were all focused on the girl, so we didn't see the car circling through the parking lot. Before we could do anything, a gun appeared out the window of the car. He was aiming for the girl. I had to do something.so I took aim and fired. I knew I only had one shot to nail the SOB, and I took it. In all the screaming and shouting for her to get out of the way, the girl ran the wrong way-right into the path of my shot. I shot her Horatio! I shot a baby girl." With that, Calleigh dissolved into a heap, collapsing into Horatio's arms, sobs wracking her body, baptizing him with her tears.
*****
"Lieutenant, your detective is on administrative leave until this matter can be fully reviewed and a ruling made," Foreman stated matter-of-factly, more than a week after the shooting.
"This matter, Mr. Foreman, is my detective's career. You have a number of eyewitness accounts as to her actions and the unfortunate actions taken by the girl. Rule it a 'no fault accident' and be done with the whole incident. The girl lived. In fact, she's fine. She and Detective Duquesne have even spoken," Horatio groused.
"I'll take it under advisement," Foreman mumbled unconvincingly.
*****
Calleigh was restless-edgy and tense. Admin leave was torture on workaholics-even ones in denial. To burn off her excess energy, she had cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, done some baking, visited several times with the little girl who had stepped in front of her bullet and even read a couple of steamy novels. She wanted, no, needed to go back to work, but picking up a gun, well, that was a whole other story.
The though terrified her. And the repercussions were unthinkable-a ballistics expert who can't hold a gun? It just couldn't happen. She'd have to pass a battery of tests before being cleared for active duty again, and the firearms trial would make or break her results.
Mustering up her last ounce of moxie, Calleigh registered her presence at the Miami-Dade Police Shooting Range. She donned the standard issue goggles and headphones with practiced speed, and programmed the coordinates into the retriever, locking it in place, the paper silhouette taunting her from afar. As she reached for the Sig Sauer, Calleigh became aware that her hands were shaking violently and uncontrollably. She quickly shoved her arms to her sides and clenched her firsts several times to try to regain some composure.
She tried to lift the weapon a second time, the nose shuttering from side to side. Her pulse was quick, her palms, damp with liquid nerves. She dejectedly placed the weapon back on the stall's counter.
Calleigh took a deep breath, her body stretching with the effort. She looked first down to the floor, then at the gun, and finally, to the target. Using her honed 20/20 peripheral vision, she reached to pick up the gun once again while eying the target in perfect concentration. But that concentration was broken by the sudden flash of memory of the little girl falling to the ground, shot by Calleigh's own hand. As the vision peaked, Calleigh gasped and move to let go of the gun completely. From somewhere behind her, as if by kismet, came the low, sultry intonation that could only belong to one man-
"Relax. It's like riding a bike," Horatio crooned.
Calleigh chuckled at the double meaning, causing a boyish blushing grin to emerge on Horatio's usually serious face.
"You know what I mean," he laughed.
"Yeah, I do. I'm just gun-shy." Calleigh admitted, the tension now broken.
"Try it again, for me," he invited.
As she secured the weapon one more time, she took her firing stance and readied herself to pull the trigger. As a last method of focusing, she loosened and retightened her grip, and just as she extended her index finger, she felt Horatio move in close behind her, his mouth just at her ear, little puffs of breath tickling her neck. She steadied herself again, trying to downplay the tingling nervousness his nearness caused. Horatio hid a half-smile when he realized her predicament. To ease her nerves and keep her on task, he reached up and gently, but firmly, laid his hands over hers and whispered,
"Together." and, after a lengthy pause, he finished, ".on three."
The shot rang out and the target swayed on impact-a perfect, dead center bull's-eye.
Calleigh ecstatically turned and clung to Horatio, pulling him into a tenacious bear hug.
"We did it, Horatio!"
Horatio smiled and shook his head. "No, you did it. I just held your hand."
"You can hold my hand any time!" she offered.
"Is that a promise?" he asked, half-joking, half -serious.
Calleigh reached up to smooth a lock of hair back from his forehead and replied sassily, "That's a promise, Handsome."
Finis
Author: Andrea ([email protected])
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to H/C; and so, to my own muse I must be true.
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Inspiration for fic comes in strange forms-I went to the movies the other night and a 3-second snip of a scene gave me the idea for the last scene in this piece. That idea went quite well with my need to write about Calleigh losing her nerve to handle a gun. I'll probably explore this from other angles, but for now, this is what I had to write.
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.
*****
Horatio sat at his desk signing a monstrous pile of incident reports accumulated by his team. The recent heat wave had not bode well for crime in his town. All the "crazies" had apparently come out to play over the last few days.
His landline rang and he answered it with a terse, "Horatio."
"Uh, H, there's trouble down her. I think you should come-NOW," Speed muttered, still dazed.
"What's happening out there, Speed? Hold on a sec, my cell's ringing. Hang on."
Horatio clicked on his cell, only to hear Delko nearly screaming, "H. You better get down here fast! All Hell broke loose.Calleigh's in trouble."
Without another word to either caller, Horatio disengaged both phones and broke into a full run toward the door.
*****
The Hummer careened through the streets at breakneck speed, heedless of any number of traffic laws. Taking the last corner on two wheels, Horatio brought the truck to rest just outside the yellow crime scene tape marking a wide perimeter around the entrance to Monkey Jungle Park, one of many local wildlife attractions in Miami proper.
As he stepped out of the truck, Eric Delko met him.
"What the Hell happened? Where's Calleigh?" he demanded to know.
Delko pointed toward a guard shack at the front gate saying,
"She's in there with Foreman now. She's not hurt, really, but she's.I don't know, she's messed up, H," Delko lamented.
Horatio sprinted toward the shack, nearly breaking down the door with his emphatic entrance.
"Calleigh, don't say another word," he cautioned.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Lieutenant Horatio Caine," came the gruff voice of the man seated opposite Calleigh.
"Marcus Foreman. Internal ass., ahem, excuse me, Internal Affairs watchdog. Just think of me as Detective Duquesne's attorney-no one interrogates her without me present-clear?" Horatio said pointedly, glaring at the IA representative.
Foreman rose and sluggishly ambled to the door.
"No problem. She's not talking anyway. She's like a freakin' zombie over there. If you can get her to talk, we need a statement, ASAP."
Foreman stepped outside the shack and popped an antacid tablet behind his lips.
*****
Calleigh sat unmoving and unblinking staring into the space just over Horatio's shoulder.
Treading lightly for fear he might spook her even further, Horatio scooted a second chair in front of hers and sat down, letting his knees just barely skim hers. No reaction was forthcoming.
He tried another tack. He bent down onto one knee on the floor beside her chair and ever so gently covered her hands, crossed in her lap, with both his own.
"Calleigh, baby, it's me. It's Horatio. Can you hear me?"
She nodded half-heartedly, but said nothing.
Encouraged, he pressed on. "Everything's OK now. You're fine. Will you talk to me about what happened out there? I can't help you if you don't fill me in."
As he watched her, a menacing change took place. Her previously blank, stoic face crumbled, becoming twisted, anguished. A single fat teardrop dangled from her bottom lashes and fell onto his hand.
As if awakened from a trance, Calleigh breathed deeply, her shoulders and chest rising in unison, and blinked rapidly, clearing her head and collecting herself. She's armed herself for battle, he thought, we can get to the bottom of this thing now.
"Horatio, what about the girl? How is she? I have to know, Horatio. You've got to find out for me!" she cried.
"What girl, Calleigh? Slow down and start at the beginning."
Her hands still sheltered by his, Calleigh began her account of the events that had led them here. She, Speed and Delko had been called out to investigate a drive-by shooting-a young mother taking her daughter to the Monkey Jungle was hit twice from behind, once in the back and once in the thigh. The shooter knew what he was doing.
"Alexx and I agree that it's most likely not random. She was executed. The ticket taker at the gate saw some of what happened and was able to run out to the daughter, grab her and push her out of the line of fire. He called MDPD. They called us."
"OK, I'm with you so far. Go on." Horatio prodded.
"When we got here, the mama was dead and the girl was horrified. Lizzie from Children's Social Services was trying to work with her and distract her while Alexx loaded the body in the wagon. Just as they lifted the gurney toward the back of the van, the daughter saw what was happening and started screaming and running toward Alexx. We were all focused on the girl, so we didn't see the car circling through the parking lot. Before we could do anything, a gun appeared out the window of the car. He was aiming for the girl. I had to do something.so I took aim and fired. I knew I only had one shot to nail the SOB, and I took it. In all the screaming and shouting for her to get out of the way, the girl ran the wrong way-right into the path of my shot. I shot her Horatio! I shot a baby girl." With that, Calleigh dissolved into a heap, collapsing into Horatio's arms, sobs wracking her body, baptizing him with her tears.
*****
"Lieutenant, your detective is on administrative leave until this matter can be fully reviewed and a ruling made," Foreman stated matter-of-factly, more than a week after the shooting.
"This matter, Mr. Foreman, is my detective's career. You have a number of eyewitness accounts as to her actions and the unfortunate actions taken by the girl. Rule it a 'no fault accident' and be done with the whole incident. The girl lived. In fact, she's fine. She and Detective Duquesne have even spoken," Horatio groused.
"I'll take it under advisement," Foreman mumbled unconvincingly.
*****
Calleigh was restless-edgy and tense. Admin leave was torture on workaholics-even ones in denial. To burn off her excess energy, she had cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, done some baking, visited several times with the little girl who had stepped in front of her bullet and even read a couple of steamy novels. She wanted, no, needed to go back to work, but picking up a gun, well, that was a whole other story.
The though terrified her. And the repercussions were unthinkable-a ballistics expert who can't hold a gun? It just couldn't happen. She'd have to pass a battery of tests before being cleared for active duty again, and the firearms trial would make or break her results.
Mustering up her last ounce of moxie, Calleigh registered her presence at the Miami-Dade Police Shooting Range. She donned the standard issue goggles and headphones with practiced speed, and programmed the coordinates into the retriever, locking it in place, the paper silhouette taunting her from afar. As she reached for the Sig Sauer, Calleigh became aware that her hands were shaking violently and uncontrollably. She quickly shoved her arms to her sides and clenched her firsts several times to try to regain some composure.
She tried to lift the weapon a second time, the nose shuttering from side to side. Her pulse was quick, her palms, damp with liquid nerves. She dejectedly placed the weapon back on the stall's counter.
Calleigh took a deep breath, her body stretching with the effort. She looked first down to the floor, then at the gun, and finally, to the target. Using her honed 20/20 peripheral vision, she reached to pick up the gun once again while eying the target in perfect concentration. But that concentration was broken by the sudden flash of memory of the little girl falling to the ground, shot by Calleigh's own hand. As the vision peaked, Calleigh gasped and move to let go of the gun completely. From somewhere behind her, as if by kismet, came the low, sultry intonation that could only belong to one man-
"Relax. It's like riding a bike," Horatio crooned.
Calleigh chuckled at the double meaning, causing a boyish blushing grin to emerge on Horatio's usually serious face.
"You know what I mean," he laughed.
"Yeah, I do. I'm just gun-shy." Calleigh admitted, the tension now broken.
"Try it again, for me," he invited.
As she secured the weapon one more time, she took her firing stance and readied herself to pull the trigger. As a last method of focusing, she loosened and retightened her grip, and just as she extended her index finger, she felt Horatio move in close behind her, his mouth just at her ear, little puffs of breath tickling her neck. She steadied herself again, trying to downplay the tingling nervousness his nearness caused. Horatio hid a half-smile when he realized her predicament. To ease her nerves and keep her on task, he reached up and gently, but firmly, laid his hands over hers and whispered,
"Together." and, after a lengthy pause, he finished, ".on three."
The shot rang out and the target swayed on impact-a perfect, dead center bull's-eye.
Calleigh ecstatically turned and clung to Horatio, pulling him into a tenacious bear hug.
"We did it, Horatio!"
Horatio smiled and shook his head. "No, you did it. I just held your hand."
"You can hold my hand any time!" she offered.
"Is that a promise?" he asked, half-joking, half -serious.
Calleigh reached up to smooth a lock of hair back from his forehead and replied sassily, "That's a promise, Handsome."
Finis