AN: Sorry for the delay I had some things. This may be the last update until I get back from Africa in Augut... depending on how my muse is feeling.

Y'all need to give Kazalene a big squishy hug for this; she's my superstar.

Angrily punching the address she'd gotten off Valera into the satellite navigation machine, Calleigh played the conversation between herself and Eric over and over in her mind as she drove from the lab. She knew he was right. The case had affected her more then she cared to admit, but the fear she felt knowing an outside force was having that much control over her was overwhelming. She felt… isolated.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right that she had to live this way; with every little thing sending her thoughts catapulting back to those dark times. She shouldn't have to deal with it - no one should. But Eric made it okay for her. He allowed her to be vulnerable without fear of judgment. Eric gave her reason to think of the things she had gained, rather than what she had lost. And it wasn't just the physical things -- though that was definitely a plus -- the emotional upheaval had allowed her to gain a greater understanding of herself. Through her kidnapping, she'd learned an understanding of the world most couldn't begin to comprehend.

It was strange how something so terrible could have impacted her life in such a positive way.

Yet that knowledge didn't stop her anger. It didn't stop the disappointment she felt for herself when he made her feel so incapable. Calleigh knew that if she and Eric weren't together, she'd still be angry – but no where near the capacity she held now, knowing there were so many things she just couldn't face. He'd let her down. The anger at that bubbled beneath the surface, clouding her vision and spreading an annoyed flush across her chest.

Approaching the street, she pulled out her pager and quickly sent the address first to Horatio, and then to Eric. As an after thought, she called for back up. Cursing for letting herself get so distracted, she stepped from the car, shutting the door quietly behind her.

-/-

Glancing once more through the front window of the house, Calleigh considered holding back to wait for back up and a warrant. She had no reason to enter the house alone, and wasn't wiling to risk whatever evidence she'd potentially find in there by conducting an illegal search. But as she stepped away from the door, her eyes were called to the ground, a slight glint of something metallic on the doorstep catching her gaze.

A silver bracelet. Another victim.

Calleigh's heart stopped suddenly. Moving silently back to the door, she paused again, thinking about her next move. If she waited for backup, the woman may be killed – she didn't know how long he'd had the victim for. But if she went in alone... would he snap? Noticing a long, narrow window on one side of the porch, she knelt down and peered under the white net curtains at the hallway within.

Small drops of blood graced the floors, the occasional smear filling Calleigh with hope that the woman was still alive. Without thinking, she rose and kicked through the weakly locked door, pulling her weapon free as she did so. She followed the blood-drops quickly, knowing the killer would have heard her entrance, and paused only momentarily at the door of what appeared to be a basement.

Breathing deeply, she opened it and, after a first tentative step, she gingerly began her descent into the basement.

- - -

Horatio strode purposefully down the corridor, his eyes landing on the man he was searching out. "Eric," he called, pausing as the Cuban glanced up from his pager. "We've got the address," he informed, punching the button for the elevator.

"Calleigh on her way there?" Eric asked, replacing his pager at his hip and following his boss through the metal doors.

"Actually," Horatio paused, placing his sunglasses onto his shirt and turning his head slightly, "actually, she's already there."

"What?" Eric asked as the sliding panels closed, worry gripping at his chest. The memories of the last time Calleigh attended a crime scene alone played on a loop through his mind. He sped up his footsteps, slipping quickly into the passenger seat once Horatio unlocked the Hummer. "H, why'd she go alone?"

Turning on the engine and pulling swiftly out of the garage, Horatio gave a one-shouldered shrug. "She got the address, she ran with it," he stated. "MDPD's on their way to the scene, we should arrive about the same time," he clarified, catching Eric's concerned tone.

"Yeah," Eric muttered distractedly, his eyes trained on the road as his mind focused solely on Calleigh's safety.

- - -

Raising her weapon at the man before her, Calleigh spoke with conviction. "Put the gun down, Mr. Clayton," she ordered, keeping her aim steady on his face; or at least as much as she could, given the position of the woman he was using as a shield. The florescent bulb didn't help either, causing the dirt on the white walls to become overly sharp, and she found herself squinting a little. Various shelves adorned the walls, but she couldn't focus on their contents while the situation was so tense.

Richard Clayton shook his head, his hand gripping the barrel of his own gun tighter as he tried to hide the trembling that raked through his body. "You need to go now," he said to her, voice curiously high pitched. "You can't be here."

Calleigh let her eyes fall downwards, meeting the terrified gaze of the kneeling woman. Quickly scanning her body to check for life threatening injuries, she gave the woman a tight nod, silently letting her know she wasn't going to let him hurt her any more then he had. Still squinting slightly, Calleigh noted the safety snap on Richard's weapon was indeed unlocked, and her hope that he wouldn't know how to work one went flying out of the window; he'd never used one in a killing before, why now?

"It's over, Richard," she tried, lowering her voice as she recalled Joe's words. If he'd be intimidated by a 'female authority figure' then Calleigh would do everything in her power to move away from that. The last thing she needed was to scare him into firing rounds. "You're not walking out of here, Richard, so why don't you put down the gun, let her go and you and I can talk this through." Her words were soft and, for a moment, she thought she'd got through to him. His eyes fell on hers and his lower lip began to tremble.

But suddenly, Calleigh's pager gave a shrill beep from her hip.

Richard's eyes widened. "No, no, no, no," he murmured quietly to himself. "No, she'll get mad; she'll get mad."

"Who'll get mad?" Calleigh asked, already knowing the answer. Richard's eyes filled with tears and he frowned, shifting on his feet like a scolded child. She recognized the signs of the mentally unwell. Though most of Joe's 'work talk' went straight over her head, she had tuned into to some parts and now, as she saw a real life example of his case studies, she felt an overwhelming sense of uncertainty flood her body.

Richard tightened his grip on the weapon, pushing the barrel further into the crying woman's head. "You have to be quiet," he whispered, "or she'll punish you, too." He paused, glancing to the window as the approaching sirens grew loud enough to hear. Calleigh took the opportunity to step closer, casting the woman a reassuring glance, hoping that backup would hurry. She didn't know how long she could stall him; the slightest thing could trigger him into killing.

She observed as he raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it harshly, muttering words to himself as he got more and more worked up. His posture changed before her eyes, becoming more closed in as each passing beat of the sirens grew in volume; the realization that his activities could soon be brought to a halt sending bolts of anger through him. Once again, Calleigh recognized the signs; Richard's intensifying frown and increasing pacing telling her he was fast loosing control of the tiny shreds he had left.

"She's gonna get so mad," he stressed, no longer meeting Calleigh's eyes.

"Fight her," Calleigh replied, trying a different technique this time. "Richard, don't let her control you anymore. I know what you went through." It was a lie, but it got his attention; she only knew he had a bad relationship with his mother. She still wasn't aware if she was alive or not but if she was dead, she couldn't physically manipulate him anymore. Calleigh adjusted her tone, setting it as caring and motherly as she could – her first mistake. "I know you're stronger than she is. Don't let her beat out again."

Richard's eyes snapped to hers as he glared at her from an angle. "You think you know me so well," he mocked, and it was clear to Calleigh that he was no longer talking to himself. "Got me all figured out? Try me." He removed the gun from the woman's head allowing Calleigh to re-level her aim on his now free chest.

Suddenly, Richard turned to face her directly. He gave a sardonic laugh as he held his gun out in front of him. "You think this is loaded?" he asked, pulling his lips back in a cruel sneer. "I don't got no bullets." His total personality change threw her off, and she wasn't sure how to read him. Was he lying? Did he even know what was fact and what was fabrication? "It ain't loaded," he reiterated, his eyes now a cool shade of grey.

Calleigh winced at his anger, the complete contrast to his prior nervous tone hitting her like a slap in the face. "Try me," he repeated again, his breath coming out in pants as his eyes resumed flickering towards the window, ever mindful of the sirens outside. Calleigh tensed as she watched him cock the gun, pressing the barrel back to the kneeling woman's head.

As two shots echoed through the building, Calleigh barely blinked.

- - -

"MDPD!" several voices shouted into the small room, armed officers descending the stairs into the room. They surrounded the body on the floor and, after securing the suspect's weapon, they declared the area clear. As they pulled the sobbing woman to the side, Horatio and Eric followed quickly; the former moving swiftly to the victim to gauge her status.

Calleigh kept her eyes on the body on the floor. Though she'd hit the stomach in an attempt to keep him alive, it was clear that Richard Clayton was dead. By her hands. She followed the officer's movements as one pulled the gun apart, feeling a bolt of apprehension as his eyes shot to hers. "It's not loaded," he stated, a note of surprise wavering his tone.

She let her eyes fall shut, a wave of emotion flooding through her as she realized, no, he hadn't lied. He wasn't testing to see how far he could push her. He was telling the truth and she'd killed him for it. Telling herself he was a murderer wasn't helping much as the memories of their final moments played behind her eyelids. He was ill; he needed help and, instead of getting him that help, she'd killed him. "He told me," she murmured, wincing as she felt Eric move behind her. "He told me it wasn't loaded and I... I just..."

Eric felt his heart clench once more at her words; he was ever familiar with Calleigh's guilt and her tendency to blame herself for things beyond her control. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, hoping to convince her he was still there for her, despite their argument.

As his hand hit her shoulder, Calleigh stiffened, twisting around to face him with blazing eyes. "You," she stated icily, "you stay away from me." With that, she turned on her heel and handed over her weapon as evidence to the waiting patrol officer before ascending the stairs, her limbs still shaking uncontrollably with anger and adrenaline.

Eric stood silently as he watched her leave, tremors of confusion reverberating in his stomach. He'd not expected total rejection. Some anger or distress, yes; but her actions hit him like a slap in the face. He had little time to mull it over, however, as Horatio approached him, determination written on every line of his face.

"Eric, get your kit," Horatio ordered. "I want every fibre in this place taken to the lab."

Eric nodded. "Sure thing, boss."

- - -

"Yo, college girl," Joe announced as he wandered into the break room, a large cup of steaming coffee in his hands. "For you," he stated, placing the cup in front of Calleigh with a flourish.

He watched as she gave a soft smile, before bringing the cup to her lips and sipping the hot fluid. But when she gave no other response, Joe's senses immediately went into overdrive. "Talk to me, girl," he said, lowering his voice in such a 'therapist' way he almost cringed.

"I talked to you," she retorted.

Joe smiled, shaking his head at her behavior. "Facts aren't emotions, Calleigh. You gotta talk about it someday. Your IAB office is gonna want a report."

She didn't look at him, simply breathed deeply and shot it out quickly. "Why did he tell me the gun wasn't loaded?" she asked bitterly, all semblance of her fear and nausea replaced with anger and guilt.

Joe pondered that for a moment, playing various lectures and textbook extracts over in his mind. Did he have an answer? He had various explanations, but he didn't think any would suffice. Still, he gave it a go. "He was sick, Calleigh," he stated. "It was suicide, he knew you'd have no choice. But the fact he told you the gun wasn't loaded tells me he's incapable of taking responsibility for his actions; he could never 'kill himself' because he couldn't face the responsibility of taking his own life. In making you do it, he's placed the blame elsewhere." Catching her unconvinced glance, he changed direction. "You understand Freud's defence mechanisms, right? He's classic level three, pushing into levels two and one. In the case of his final death, what you saw was displacement; the casting off -- or redirection -- of unacceptable urges onto another being. In him, his anger at himself and his mother was redirected onto you, thus pushing you into conducting the act he wanted to conduct himself."

"So he manipulated me?" Calleigh asked, a touch of indignation coloring her tone.

"Despite being socially inept, people like him are generally very good at picking out weaknesses in others and using them to their advantage. From what you told me about his behaviours, I'd classify him as I stated in my profile - possibly a little more severe. He's not just a psychopathic personality, he's almost completely unable to distinguish adequately between his own pseudo-intentions and reality. Most males will follow their childhood abuse with the further abuse of drugs or alcohol. He didn't do that; instead he let the overwhelming fear of being around people, specifically women, take control of him and that blurred those lines of reality even further."

Calleigh nodded, realization of what she had seen dawning on her. "His voice changed," she said simply, continuing when Joe cast her a questioning glance. "I was talking to him, and his voice -- his pronunciation -- changed. His pitch went higher; like a child's."

"Regressive behavior," Joe stated, nodding tightly. "Once the present situation becomes too difficult for a person to handle, he reverts back to his childhood, when things were simpler and there was less responsibility. It happens mildly in everyday life. You're doing it right now" He stopped, pointing his finger towards her left hand. "A nervous response; you're feeling uncomfortable so you're nibbling your thumb. You did it all the time as a kid." Joe gave a soft chuckle as she self-consciously pulled her hand away, setting it back on the table. "That's what Richard was doing, just on a grander scale."

"Makes sense, in a way," Calleigh sighed. "I just wish... I wish I'd not killed him, AJ... I mean, he was ill; he needed help." She ran her fingers through her hair, flicking her eyes to Joe's when he reached out a hand to stop her movements.

"Cal, you have to understand that no matter how sick he was, he'd have gone on killing. You know about distortion. You understand Richard grossly reshaped his external reality to meet his own twisted internal needs. You know he couldn't fight that. He wouldn't stop."

"But he lost his right to psychiatric help because of me. Someone should have helped him. Yes, he did terrible things, but does that mean he should have died rather than receiving the help he needed?" Calleigh asked, unsure of the answers herself. And unable to focus on the line of conversation any longer she pushed back her chair, stalking out of the room with her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

"Cal?" Joe called, sighing deeply as he received no response. Disheartened, he reclined in his chair, the pain Calleigh was going through increasing his heartbeat slightly. Doing the only thing he knew would calm his nerves, Joe flipped open his cell, glancing at the clock to calculate the time as he dialled his daughter's number.