Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. And any references to the NFL and the Nextel Cup aren't mine either.
Rating: Umm, I guess K+.
Pairing: E/C
Spoilers: only 10-7 so far.
AN: Since everyoe waso nice about reviewing The Lucky One, I decided to add this one too. I wrote this part before seasonfour started, so as far as this goes, season four hasn't happened. Oh, and the title comes from football. The two minutewarningannounces the last two minutes of the 4th quarter.There is a second part (maybe more) that adds on to this. If you like it, I'll post part two. Enjoy!
4th & Long: Two Minute Warning.
When it's 4th & Long, sometimes you just have to go for it. It's the only way to keep the ball moving.
He awoke in a cold sweat, heart pounding, gasping for breath. Sitting up and glancing at his bedside clock, Eric Delko ran his hands across his face and tried to slow his erratic breathing. But his mind refused to release the last vestiges of the horrible dream, and Eric scrambled for the bathroom.
After depositing the remains of his late and forced down dinner, Eric stumbled back to his bed, reading 3:28 on the illuminated clock face. Trembling from a mix of exhaustion, nausea, and the still lingering dream Eric collapsed on the bed, willing the images of someone holding a gun to the back of Calleigh's head to fade.
"Not someone," he mind whispered. "Hagen."
He willed the rising bile back down his throat and turned on the bedside lamp. The sudden flood of light did little to remove the images from his mind. Head in hands, elbows resting on his thighs, Eric reminded himself that the dream was not real. Calleigh was alive. Not alright or fine like she claimed, but alive. Hagen had died, not Calleigh.
But the dream refused his logic. Despite full consciousness Eric could see himself one by one handing the guns kept in the gun vault to Hagen. Watched as Hagen held each gun to the back of Calleigh's head. Heard as Calleigh softly called back "Too soft. There were more clicks than that. Too hollow," while he mentally screamed as he handed the Ruger to Hagen, knowing that when Hagen pulled that trigger Calleigh would die.
In his mind he begged Hagan not to do it, while Calleigh stayed perfectly still and dazed. But for all his effort to stop it, Eric saw his hand give the Hagan the gun, saw Hagan's sad smile that seem to say "I have no choice," and with a final "Calleigh!" watched as it was Calleigh's blood and brain matter that splattered against walls and ceiling.
He barely made it to the bathroom, retching until nothing more was left. He splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth, forcing himself not to replay the dream again. Body drained from the vomiting, the terrible day, and the general weariness that had manifested after Speed's death, Eric again collapsed on his bed.
The previous day had been horrible. Second only to Speed's death. And it was a close second. Having Calleigh point a gun at him, trying but failing to mask her fear, had scared him. There were few things that scared Calleigh like that. Her mumbled "You wouldn't hold a gun to my head, would you?" had certainly not diminished any of that fear.
He'd startled her when he found her staring into the gun vault, eyes distant and unfocused. He had hated every second of testing those weapons. Holding even unloaded weapons at Calleigh, or rather next to Calleigh, had made him feel sick.
He was a trained CSI. He knew what could happen at a scene. That fact had been cruelly reinforced when Speed died. But holding a gun to the back of Calleigh's head after coming so close to losing her earlier in the day was too much. He had gone through the test only because he knew Calleigh would find someone else if he refused, and because he wanted to honor the trust she placed in him by asking. And he knew she hadn't had any more fun during the test than he had. He'd seen the tension in her body, the shivers she'd tried to hide. So he'd been there, supported her the only way she would allow.
But now it was 3:36 am and his own trembling wouldn't stop. He needed to know she was alive, to reassure himself that she was physically safe, if not emotionally okay. He hadn't seen her since going out to the park with Horatio. He knew she'd left CSI upset. Claudia, the main CSI secretary, had confirmed as much when had inquired. He also knew she's taken her name off the board. That too had scared him. But despite numerous messages left on both her apartment machine and cell phone, Calleigh had remained silent. That was hours ago. And now he needed to know she was safe. The plan of giving her the night to decompress and think was overruled by his dream induced panic. Knowing she would be annoyed at his protectiveness and knowing that it was panic and not reason that prompted the call, he grabbed the bedside phone and dialed her apartment.
When the machine picked up, he hung up, sans message, and dialed her cell. He was surprised but almost dizzily relieved when her frustrated voice answered. "What?"
"Are you safe?" his hoarse voice croaked.
Maybe it was the question or the horrible way his voice came out, but it got Calleigh's attention. "Eric, are you alright?"
A part of him wanted to laugh. He should be the one asking that, not her. But all that came out was his original question. "Are you safe?"
Concern focused Calleigh. "I'm sitting on the beach. Eric, what's wrong?"
He sighed, further scaring her. Giving her a new reason to be upset had not been the goal of this call. "I just needed to know you were safe. It was only a dream, but I needed to know. I didn't mean to upset you."
The emotional roller coaster Calleigh had been riding all day was unprepared for the curve his words presented. She wanted to scream at him that it had been real, and she couldn't handle it. But she would not break down again. She willed herself to be strong, calling on every ounce of reserve strength she had left.
It only half worked.
"Where are you?" she asked, after what felt to both like a decade long silence.
"Home," he answered, his voice steadier.
"Will you go back to sleep?" she questioned softly.
"Not tonight," he answered back, an edge in his voice.
Without stopping to analyze or question why, Calleigh gave him her location. He grabbed two blankets from the small linen closet in the hall and grabbed his keys.