Title: Restless

Author: JLo10131121

Spoilers: Post All In

Summary: Calleigh can't sleep after the kidnapping.

Disclaimer: Do I look as if I own this series?

Feedback: is food for my hungry soul and fodder for my ego. EG

Author's Note: This is heavily Calleigh-centered. Not sure if there's much EC, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

******

Calleigh pulled the soft fleece afghan throw across her shoulders tighter to her body. Eric had just left. After much convincing. She was nothing if not a good actor. Dull green eyes stared sightlessly at the television. Some infomercial again. Her eyes focused slightly on the clock in the cable box. 1:37AM. Closing her eyes briefly, Calleigh took a deep breath. God she was tired. The last 48 hours had been hell. Literally and figuratively. And she was exhausted. Having to keep her wits about her, focused on the present, mentally cataloguing the evidence she'd helped erase. Christ, she'd assisted a criminal in covering up evidence. The past 48 hours ran through her head like a movie. The ramification of her actions would have consequences lasting several years, if not the rest of her career. Criminals she'd helped convict based on the evidence she'd identified and presented and her testimony could possibly go free. Evidence she'd worked on thrown out. Her integrity could be called into question. All because of one decision: She had gotten out of the Hummer.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It hadn't felt right. Looking back on the situation now, Calleigh could see all the signs. The biggest and most prominent one being she'd been uncomfortable in the first place leaving her Hummer. Finding that kid in the middle of the street, apparently unscathed, should have been a red flag. If only she hadn't gotten out…. The first few seconds of the kidnapping played itself out on the canvas of Calleigh's mind.

Calleigh got out of the Hummer cautiously. Looking around, she hesitantly approached the young Black man lying on the street. Something wasn't quite right about the situation. Kneeling down slowly, she reached out to check if the man was alive. Something or someone grabbed her from behind. A wet cloth was slapped coldly across her nose and mouth and Calleigh struggled, fighting not to breathe in. A faint hint before the cloth came over her face had told her it was chloroform, and so she tried desperately not to breathe in and allow the chemical to do its work. But she was losing the battle. The more she struggled, the more she needed to breathe. Finally, she was forced to inhale the sickly sweet smell, the burn in her lungs too much. Immediately, her body began to feel numb, and in the last few seconds of consciousness, all she could think about was, please don't kill me.

Calleigh forcefully shook herself mentally away from that dark path. A small shudder, barely discernable, racked her body. She'd been helpless. Ineffectual. Out of control. Overpowered. Suddenly, the walls began to close in. Never mind her house was over 1800 square feet. Logically, Calleigh knew it was just the panic and fear of the last two days catching up with her, but it couldn't dispel the sense of utter claustrophobia. And as tired, utterly exhausted, she was, Calleigh needed to get out. Her eyes may be burning, but her body was wired with energy, a nervous, high tension energy that a few hours on the sofa wouldn't abate. Pushing off the warm blanket, she got up and toed on her sneakers she'd left by the door when she and Eric had entered her house earlier in the evening. She needed to get out, and she knew just the place to relieve the energy inside. Grabbing the keys by the door, Calleigh left.

*********

Calleigh swiped her access card across the panel at the department office and with a soft swoosh of the automated doors, she was granted access. This late at night, Miami-Dade PD was staffed with only a few officers to man the main lines and dispatch. All other personnel were on patrol. So it was unsurprising she didn't see anyone, and that was just fine with her. Calleigh wasn't in the mood to pretend everything was all right. It wasn't. But it could be. Walking through the halls, she counted the number of steps it took to get to the range. Firearms. Her Mecca. The one place that, while everything could be falling down around her, could get Calleigh centered and back on track. It was her refuge and only one moment in time had that ever not been the case. Calleigh shut the door on that thought. There was no room for John right then. Finally reaching the range, Calleigh checked out a Sig Sauer PT99 9mm pistol and loaded a 15 round clip, as well as five more. Grabbing a pair of goggles, ear muffs, and two paper targets, she walked down the long line of stalls, at last coming to a stop at her favorite, number 12.

Placing her gun and the extra clips down carefully, Calleigh began her normal routine before the target. She'd always done things in a very particular way, and over the years, the way she prepped before beginning to fire had become a ritual of sorts and the repetitive motions, familiar as they were, gave her a small sense of comfort. Of control. First, she laid her gun and extra clips down in order: firearm on the right—she was righthanded—then clip after clip, aligned horizontally, parallel to the handgun. Next, Calleigh withdrew one target and pressed the return button above and to the right of her shoulder to bring the cable and clips to her. After she'd attached the target to the clips, she retrieved her goggles and placed them over her eyes. Fourth, the ear muffs came over her head and secured around her ears. Fifth, Calleigh pressed the button again, this time twice in quick succession. She wanted the challenge of alternating proximity to the target. Finally when the target had begun its slow move into the first position, she closed her eyes for a few precious seconds, calming her heart rate and centering her mind and body. It took only ten seconds for the target to reach its first destination, and at the sound of a loud buzzer, she reached down and grabbed her gun, firing even before her eyes had opened fully. The loud report of the firearm was muffled by the ear muffs, but she could still hear it. Although it was a sharp, harsh echoing sound, to Calleigh it was comfort and as she got into her groove, all the worry and anger of the past two days faded and it was just her and the target. She was home.

But as much as it was home, as comfortable as it was here, in this place that was hers, by the second clip Seth's face was on the target, and all Calleigh could see was his smug face and his words. Nighty night bitch. He'd said that with a sneer in his voice just before the chloroform had done its work and knocked her out. That's all she could think about. She hadn't done anything. She'd barely fought back and he'd gotten the upper hand. She'd been powerless. Calleigh's lips compressed into a thin line at that thought. Before she knew it, she was dry-firing. She reached down for another clip, and grasped air, nails scraping on the short surface. Calleigh looked down in confusion and her face cleared as she realized she'd blown through all six clips, including the one in the gun. Ninety bullets. Glanced at the clock. 3:23AM. Only seven minutes. Ninety projectiles in seven minutes. Calleigh put down her gun, arms shaking slightly. This wasn't working. Her place of peace wasn't working. Anger rose at that thought. That he could come in and ruin this time. This was her place and he had no business there.

Sighing internally, she closed her eyes briefly, praying for strength. Strength for what, she didn't know, but she felt she could use some right now. Calleigh pulled off her safety glasses and muffs and proceeded to take the equipment back for check-in and clean up. Grabbing a couple of brushes, oil, and cleaning solution, Calleigh proceeded to break down the firearm and clean it out. But even that normally calming act did nothing to soothe her nerves. Her mind was still wired and she couldn't stop thinking about it. About him. After she'd put everything back in its place, she left the range and headed down to the gym. Maybe she could exhaust herself enough to stop thinking and maybe then she could sleep. As it was, even if she did manage to sleep, right now, with the way her thoughts were going, she'd just have nightmares—replaying those first few critical seconds over like some movie stuck on the film reel, repeating the same scene over and over again. No, he'd taken two days of her life. He wasn't going to follow her into her dreams. In her home.

Reaching the department fitness center, Calleigh walked in without hitting the lights. There was enough light coming from the few bulbs that remained on at night and she knew there was no one else in the gym. First, she headed over to the weights, and loaded on 75 pounds to the bench press weight. Logically she knew it was dangerous to work without a spotter, but for once, Calleigh ignored that little voice in her head, and positioned herself under the bar. However, five sets of ten did nothing. Even the normally soothing action of the count couldn't help. The light reflected off the metal of the bar and a distorted image of Seth's face flickered across the makeshift mirror. Startled, Calleigh swiftly raised the bar and rested it. With one quick motion, she was off the bench and on her feet, looking around the large, shadow-filled room. Heart pounding. Butterflies in her stomach. "Anyone there?" she asked roughly, and then internally cursed her stupidity. If someone was there to hurt her, they certainly wouldn't call out. Besides, she reassured herself, Seth was in custody, arrested for kidnapping a police officer and assault on an officer. He was in lock-up, twenty miles away.

Her heart began to calm at the reassurances and with one last sweeping, searching look around the gym, Calleigh walked over to the treadmill. She'd always loved running and she and Eric usually went for their morning run before work. Even when one or the other was off, they still met at ___________ Park promptly at 5:30AM. A small smile curved her lips as she thought of their runs. Next to the range, it was her favorite way to work out all her problems, or to get away from them. Eric knew when she was having trouble with something, and he also knew, almost instinctively, when to question and when to leave it alone and let it work itself out. They talked about everything and nothing, sometimes just content to enjoy the silence and just listen to the soft exhalations of their breaths as they pounded the pavement. They hadn't missed a day yet since they'd started this little trend right after Tim died. And even though she was with Jake now, the ritual had continued. Granted, they'd had a few rough patches, especially during the first two months of the start of Calleigh and Jake's relationship, but they hadn't let her choice destroy an eight year friendship. Jake knew she went on runs in the morning, and he'd asked to join her, but she had told him no. It was something between her and Eric only, and she wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want to analyze exactly why she gave only some parts of herself to Eric and others exclusively to Jake, so Calleigh got on the treadmill and started a grueling pace. The rhythmic sound of her feet pounding on the rubber mat drowned out her thoughts and all she could hear was her own breath pushing out from her lungs. Thirty minutes later, she was out of breath, and her legs felt like mush, but her mind was still going a mile a minute and she didn't feel tired enough to sleep. She had managed to push thoughts of Seth away for the entire run, but it hadn't helped.

After stretching her leg muscles and getting a long hard drink of water at the fountain, Calleigh turned and her eyes locked on the punching bag. Walked over slowly. She'd never tried it before. It wasn't one of her usual exercises and she never did get why guys felt the need to pound a defenseless bag into a pulp. But something drew her. She couldn't find a pair of gloves, but that didn't stop her. At first, Calleigh started out light, punching not too hard, wanting to get a feel for the movements. Then she began to throw kicks into the mix. Gradually, so slowly Calleigh didn't notice it at first, Seth's face began to appear on the black leather. Flashes of the last two days appeared in her mind's eye.

Nighty night bitch.

Maybe after we're finished here, we can have some fun.

Clean it up, or you fucking die, cunt.

With every memory, Calleigh's motions got more and more violent, her swings and kicks more forceful, so she had the bag swaying gently. Anger. Rage. Fear. Hopelessness. Helplessness. She hadn't been able to stop him from taking her in the first place. He'd been too strong, and she'd been taken by surprise. She'd had to erase the evidence, she told herself. She had no choice. He would have killed her. Even that thought didn't abate the guilt. Calleigh could still feel him arms across her body, pressing that wet cloth across her face, forcing the chloroform deeper. She'd never felt more helpless in her life, unable to do anything. Unable to struggle. Unable to get away. Unable to protect herself. And if she couldn't protect herself, how could she expect her co-workers to trust she could protect them?

Eric walked through the department on the way to the gym. Calleigh hadn't met him at their usual time for their run, and he hadn't really expected her to—although she'd never missed a run—but since she hadn't answered her house phone and her cell was off, Eric was worried. He should have insisted and stayed, even if it would have been on the couch. She was with Jake now, and although he didn't like it, he would never let that get in the way of their friendship. Stopping by the locker room first, Eric hung up his work clothes so they'd be waiting for him once he got his workout in. Work started in about two hours, 8AM. So he'd have to get dressed here. After he'd checked his shoelaces and snagged his bottle of water, Eric walked into the main room and was about to flip the lights on when he saw a figure at the punching bag. From where he was standing, the bag was losing.

A sliver of light briefly illuminated the person's face and hair, and Eric caught a quick flash of strawberry blond hair and a flushed face. He relaxed as he realized who it was pounding away at the bag. "Calleigh," he called from across the room. But when she didn't answer, Eric walked over leisurely, taking his time, enjoying the rare moment when he got to watch her without being caught. As he got closer, he caught snippets of Calleigh talking to herself.

"Never again…I can protect myself. My friends…Beat you…I won…"

Eric could hear the distress in her voice and the closer he got, the more he could also hear and see the tears in her voice and face. Frowning in concern, Eric reached behind her and gently laid down his palm against her shoulder.

"Calleigh…."

A startled and angry cry rose from her chest, and Calleigh grabbed the hand that gripped her shoulder. In one swift move, she'd bent over, pulled her assailant over her head, and now had him flat on his back with one foot against his throat and the arm he'd used twisted painfully.

"Cal…" Eric strangled out, the utter breath knocked out of him.

Calleigh let go immediately and dropped to her knees to check out her best friend. "Oh, God, Eric. Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, green eyes darkening.

It took a few moments for Eric to respond, but he did. "You're stronger than you look," he joked. His ears were still ringing. Calleigh's tension dissipated somewhat at his response.

"Christ, Eric. You scared the crap out of me. Don't sneak up on me again," she scolded.

"I'll have to remember that. But," he said, as he tried to pull himself up, "to be fair, I did call your name. You didn't answer. So what gives?" Calleigh had to help Eric get carefully to his feet and that gave her some time to think of a plausible excuse. They settled back down on the floor, this time seated. Before she had barely opened her mouth, Eric interjected with, "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, or what you want to say. Tell me the truth. I saw what was going on before you decided to go all Tae-Bo on my ass."

Calleigh had to smile briefly at the funny, but she actually had to think this time, and no platitudes would come to mind. So she opted for the truth. "I was thinking about him." No need to say his name out loud. Hopefully, in time, she could completely forget it and him. She didn't really want to talk about this, but Eric's encouraging expression and concern prodded her. "I can still feel the chloroform, that wet cloth, the sharp, stinging smell. I couldn't move Eric. He had me from behind and I couldn't move."

"Calleigh, you did what you could. Even though you couldn't get away, you gave us the clues to find you," Eric said, trying to comfort his friend.

Calleigh laughed humorlessly. "That's another thing. I covered up evidence, Eric. My actions over the past two days could have lasting consequences. Cases I've closed, cases I'm currently working on, the suspects and felons involved could go free. Evidence thrown out. Testimony suppressed. Because I tampered with evidence."

Eric said incredulously, "Cal, you had no choice. The guy had a gun on you. He could have killed you!"

Before he'd even finished his sentence, Calleigh was shaking her head. "Doesn't matter. It will still happen. There will still be challenges to my evidence, my testimony."

"Maybe so, but we'll take it one day at a time. One case at a time," Eric said as he hesitantly reached for her hand. When she didn't pull away, he squeezed gently and then released it. He didn't want to make things awkward between them.

Calleigh closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about what Eric had said. Her actions could be explained. And she had left those clues. "Okay, you're right." She said slowly. Eric saw the shadow that remained in his friend's eyes.

"Now that we have that resolved, why don't you tell me the real reason you've beaten the snot out of Stetler here?" Calleigh looked up, startled for two reasons. The first – Eric still knew something was bothering her. Two – who was Stetler? Or rather what? Eric saw the questions in her eyes and replied, "Calleigh, I've known you for eight years now. I know when something's bothering you, and especially when we've already gone through the explanations. Second, I call the punching bag Stetler," he admitted sheepishly.

No further explanation was needed and Calleigh laughed. Her smile cooled quite a bit thinking about his question. How much to tell him? Calleigh didn't like showing weakness to her co-workers. It had taken her a long time to earn respect in a field traditionally dominated by men. But Eric's open and waiting expression, his patience, convinced her. Besides, he wasn't just a co-worker. He was her best friend. "I only figured it out just now. Fighting the punching bag." Unexpected tears pricked her eyes and her throat closed up slightly, making it hard for her to get out, "I couldn't fight him off, Eric. I didn't have the strength. I couldn't protect myself. And if that's the case, how can I expect you or Ryan, or any one else on the team to trust I can protect them?"

Eric's face changed. Anger for Calleigh and concern waged a war inside. But anger wouldn't get the message across. "Cal, you were chloroformed and taken by surprise. No one expects you to have gotten out of that situation. Later you were tied up. You had a gun to your head. You couldn't have gotten away. What's the first thing they taught at the academy when dealing with a hostage situation? 'Do what you have to do to stay alive.' You can't be rescued if you're dead, Cal. As for the second part of your screwed up logic, I trust you with everything in me, Calleigh. I'd rather have you at my back than 'Talia, or Ryan, or even H. There's no one I trust more." No one I love more. But this was neither the time nor the place for that. And she was with Jake. Another reason. And she didn't feel that way about him. Probably never would.

"Why, Eric?" Calleigh asked, remembering the conversation they'd had just before she'd made her decision about Jake. You know I trust you with every fiber of my being.

Eric looked up. "You're my best friend, Calleigh. We've been through so much together. There aren't enough stars in the sky to count all the reasons. Regardless of…anything else, I know you'll always be there for me. And I hope you know it's the same for me." He couldn't look her directly in the eye, afraid she'd see right through him to what he was feeling. He knew she thought he had a crush, but this had extended far beyond a crush some time ago.

Calleigh reached over silently and gently put her hand in his, resting in the space between them. She'd caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, there but quickly shuttered. It was warm and comfortable, this silence between them, and slowly Calleigh leaned toward Eric. Of course Eric got the hint and put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thanks for listening."

Eric whispered back, "Anytime. Always. I'll always be here for you." He put his head on top of hers and breathed the sweet scent of her hair into his lungs. Sunshine and laughter. Tortured himself. But it was worth it. It always was with her.

And although she couldn't kiss him on the lips—it wasn't fair to Eric—Calleigh did reach up and softly kiss him on the cheek. He could always make things better, either by his presence or words, or both, and right now that was enough. For the first time, Calleigh was glad she'd missed their run today. Because if she hadn't, she didn't think this conversation would have taken place, and—as she admitted to herself—it needed to. After a couple of quiet moments, Eric said, "How about I take you home? You could use the rest."

Calleigh looked up and surmised, "But you were going to work out. You didn't get your run in this morning. And I don't want to make you late for work."

Eric gave her a look. "I think H will understand. Don't worry about the run. I didn't really expect you to come after these rough couple of days. I'm just glad you're okay." What an understatement. As he'd told her late yesterday afternoon at his Hummer, he didn't know what he would have done if he'd lost her. He'd already lost one woman close to him. Marisol. Eric didn't think he could bear it if he lost another. "Come on. Let me drive you home and get you settled in. Maybe now that you've done a number on the bag, you'll be able to sleep."

Calleigh smiled half-heartedly and pressed her cheek against his chest briefly, before following his lead and slowly walked through the gym, Eric's hand at the small of her back. They walked in silence down the hall and into the elevator. As they reached the main level, Calleigh recognized several co-workers and some of the night-shift as they transitioned out. All smiled at her, relieved one of their own was back safe and sound. When they reached the outside, she took a deep breath, breathing in the salty sea air, even though HQ was nowhere near the water, that salty scent tended to permeate the Florida air and this morning was no exception.

Eric lead her over to his Hummer. "Let's take the Hummer now and worry about your car later. You need to sleep," he said as he opened her side and helped her up before closing the door.

When he got in and started the car, Calleigh continued their conversation. "You know, that was the original reason I came over. After you left, I was just staring at the TV and I couldn't sleep. Kept rewinding those first few moments over and over and it was driving me crazy. I had to get the energy down."

"Didn't know your energy ever went away," Eric teased. Calleigh elbowed him lightly in the stomach and Eric playfully grabbed his side. "That hurt, Cal," he said as he tossed a crooked smile her way. A little part of her melted a smidge at that soft smile. They hadn't had many reasons to laugh and joke together much lately. With Calleigh's choice about Jake, Alex leaving, and all the high profile cases, especially the last year or so, she'd felt they'd kind of drifted a bit. It was nice to know that they were back on track. Facing forward, Eric started the vehicle and they drove the forty minutes to her house in a comfortable silence. No words were really necessary. Eric called Horatio after Calleigh nodded off. "H, I'm going to take off the day," he said softly.

"Are you all right?" Horatio asked concernedly as he walked into Miami-Dade.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to stay with Calleigh. She needs someone with her right now," he said simply, not wanting to go into the details of what had happened in the last hour.

"Take care of her, Eric," Horatio ordered.

Eric barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course. Always will." He clicked off and placed his cell back in his jeans pocket. Sometimes Horatio got on his nerves. Of course he would take care of Calleigh. He always had when something went wrong, when she let him. Even though those moments had been few and far between, he'd done everything he could, whether it was sitting by the sidelines and letting her work it out to crashing on her coach the night Hagan killed himself. He'd meant what he'd said. He'd always be there, regardless of Jake, or anyone else in her life. Even if they never had the chance he wanted with her.

A few more minutes of silence passed before Eric started to hear small, faint whimpering sounds coming from Calleigh. It sounded as if she was having a nightmare. "Hey, Cal, wake up, baby. Cal-" he said gently as he shook her slightly, trying to pay attention to the road and glance at his friend at the same time.

Calleigh started awake, jerked, and then the haze cleared from her eyes. "Fine. I'm fine. Just a dream," she said, trying to convince herself as well as Eric. She was wide awake now, nowhere ready for sleep as a result of her nightmare. The images from her nightmare were faint and fleeting. The more she tried to remember, the more they disappeared. The only real feeling she'd gotten was the dream had been about him. When they got to her place, Calleigh had a strong sense of déjà vu as they walked to her door and she laughed. "What's so funny," Eric asked as she opened the door and led him into the darkened interior. "We were just doing this a few hours ago." Eric got it and laughed too.

"Yeah, but at least now, it's under slightly better circumstances." Calleigh dropped her keys on the kitchen table and moved into the living room. Eric plopped down on the sofa and padded the seat next to him in invitation. Calleigh sat down beside her friend and reached for the remote. Eric stretched his arm out behind her head along the top of the sofa and Calleigh gave him a look.

"What?" he asked, innocent eyes blinking. "Just trying to get comfortable. What movie are we going to watch anyway?"

"Nice try, Romeo," she teased as she got up to check out her DVD collection. "Besides, how did you know I was going to put on a DVD?"

"Because that's what you do. When you're stressed, can't sleep, you put on one of a couple of your favorites to unwind and let go," Eric said, leaning back into the sofa. "And if that doesn't work, then you exorcise it physically."

"Okay, Eric-All-Knowing-Delko, what movie do you think I've got behind my back?" Calleigh asked before swiftly choosing one off the shelf of the entertainment center. She had over 100 movies on the shelves behind her and she didn't think he knew her center enough to pick out which one she'd chosen in the split second he'd seen.

Eric spent a few moments staring into Calleigh's eyes before saying, "Before Sunset." Calleigh wordlessly revealed the movie she'd picked: Before Sunset. Eric crowed in triumph. "Hah! I knew you'd go for one of your four favorite flicks – Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, Top Gun, or Dirty Dancing."

"And why Before Sunset?" she asked as she popped the movie into the player and sat down beside Eric, waiting for the commercials and warnings to finish. How well does he know me?

"You're a romantic, Calleigh. You want good to triumph over evil, the guy to get the girl. In that movie, which I know for a fact you've seen over 50 times, the hopeless romantic gets his girl. It's set in Paris, your favorite city, and it's got Ethan Hawke. One of your favorite stars," he finished.

"It's also one of the few movies I can watch and be almost instantly calmed. I can't believe I didn't think to watch it earlier, when I was having trouble relaxing," Calleigh said, shaking her head and putting the movie in the player.

"I think you knew subconsciously that watching the movie then wouldn't have done you any good. I think you needed to work out your issues physically," Eric said quietly, looking up as she took her seat beside him. The movie started in the background, but they continued their conversation, oblivious. "You were held hostage for two days, Calleigh. That guy had a gun to your head. It's kind of expected you can't just brush that off and say 'I'm fine,' like you usually do," he continued.

Calleigh was silent for a long minute, her attention back on the DVD. Even so, she could completely absorb herself in the flick like she usually could. Eric's voice played itself over in her head. He was right. She wasn't all right. And punching the living hell out of that bag hadn't completely erased the tension in her body. She still felt jumpy and wired somewhat. Eric put his arm over the back of the sofa again and Calleigh turned slightly to give him a look. He smiled a little, but didn't say anything. Neither did Calleigh. It was nice to have him there. Eric knew exactly what she'd been through and more than that, he knew when to push and when to let it go. Just being there was enough for her. Jake was on assignment halfway across the country and wouldn't be getting back at the earliest two days from now. She needed a friend now and he was here. Calleigh let herself concentrate on the feel of his arm across the back of the sofa, his hand draped across her left shoulder, thumb occasionally, absently, rubbing her collarbone, the weight and security it provided. Comfortable. Warm. Safe. Safe like she hadn't been for two days now. Concentrating on his hand made Calleigh shiver at the bittersweet sensation of the electric feel of his skin. Even so, she couldn't go there. She was in a relationship with Jake; she loved Jake, she reminded herself. Eric noticed the slight shudder and commented, "Cold? I can get you a blanket."

"No, I'm fine. Really. I'm perfect, right where I am," she said, twisting her body so she could lay her cheek on his cloth-covered chest. Yeah, you are. Perfect. In every way. Eric hugged her close to him, intensely happy she was okay, heart suddenly galloping a mile a minute. What if she had been hurt? What if she had been killed? He fought to control his breathing as it had increased with his morbid thoughts. "Eric?" Calleigh questioned as she felt his heart begin to gallop.

"It's nothing. Sometimes my heart races," he said. He didn't want to tell her the truth. What could he say? The reason my heart decided to jump out my chest was because I was suddenly terrified thinking about what if. The reason I was so terrified was because I'm in love with you. Yeah, that would go over real well. She was with Jake, he reminded himself. And she didn't need his confession, regardless of whether or not she was with Jake. She'd made it perfectly clear she didn't want a relationship with him. And who could blame her? He was damaged goods, with a train car of baggage. She didn't need that, not then and certainly not now. Eric's attention refocused on the movie on the screen and he tried to tune out his thoughts. About half way through, he began to nod off, and shook himself awake. "Cal-" he started, but when he looked down, he realized she'd already gotten a head start on her rest. Eric smiled a bit and carefully got up, slowly so as to not disturb the tenuous hold on sleep his best friend had. She needed her rest, with everything that had happened. Calleigh's head lolled back against the back of the sofa, which made Eric laugh inside at how utterly adorable she looked. Gently, he scooped her in his arms and carried her through the house to her bedroom.

He'd never been here before, but as he took a look around (trying not to invade her privacy too much, but hey, he was a guy) Eric thought the room was exactly like Calleigh: soft, feminine, and a hint of steel beneath that soft exterior. The furniture was all in a deep mahogany wood, strong masculine overtones, but the décor balanced it out with the soft touches of silk curtains and, as he laid her on the bed after having untucked the sheet and covers, 500 thread count cotton sheets. A soft moan welled up from her throat and Eric had to swallow hard. There should be a medal for this. The woman of his dreams and he was being a good boy. He slipped off her shoes and pulled the covers over her body. He hovered close, never having had the chance to watch her unguardedly, without having to hide his feelings. He listened to her breathing, the soft exhalations, feasted his eyes on her flawless skin, and ghosted his fingertips over her face gently, memorizing the lines and planes. Remembering her smiles, hearing her laughter. God he loved her. It seemed like he'd loved her forever. And she didn't even know he existed. That wasn't true. She knew he felt something for her, but she didn't know just how deep his feelings ran. And she couldn't. Wouldn't. Not unless Jake was out of the picture. And that didn't look like it was happening anytime soon. Unexpectedly, tears sprung in his eyes, burned down his throat. "I love you, Calleigh," he whispered softly. Unable to voice the declaration when she was conscious, Eric found it cowardly easy to say when she was asleep. He could wait. She was worth it. She was worth anything. Always had been, always would be. Pressing a soft kiss to first her forehead and then an even gentler one to her sweet lips, Eric rose and left the room. A soft snick of the door latch catching was preceded by a lone tear running down the side of the cheek not pressed into the pillow.