Chapter 6: Chastity

Calleigh is vaguely aware of something warm against the palm of her hand, but it isn't until she opens her eyes that she realizes exactly where she'd placed her hand. She squints down at the space between their bodies, not making out much but quickly realizing that her fingers had crept past the waistband of Eric's boxers and are pressed against the hollow of his hip. She's confused and a little embarrassed, even more so when she hears his sleepy chuckle.

He seems more amused than anything else. "Mm, ulterior motive?"

It's too early for her brain to fully process spoken words, and after she withdraws her hand, she finds herself comfortable there. "Good morning," she murmurs in response.

He grazes his lips across her forehead without really thinking about it. "Morning."

She doesn't know what time it is, doesn't care, either. "Best night of sleep I've had in months," she announces, arching her back slightly to stretch. "This bed is amazing."

He runs his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. "Should've slept in here since day one."

"I tried," she replies quietly.

Momentarily, he says nothing, but his body stiffens slightly. She begins to grow restless against him, and he loosens his grip around her. He takes a minute and waits for her to relax again. "Hey," he murmurs, "I'm sorry about what I said last night."

"Hagen used to tell me that," she reveals. She closes her eyes and prepares for the pang. "That I had commitment issues."

He sucks in a deep breath and holds it. Exhales slowly. "Calleigh, I didn't mean it."

"You wouldn't be too far off base." She tilts her head downward until her forehead presses against his collarbone. "I don't try to be distant," she tells him with a hint of remorse.

He presses a kiss into her hair. "You're not," he reassures her. "Not with me."

She shivers. Her fingers trail short paths down the front of his shirt. She purposely avoids his waistline. "You think I overreacted about Ella's question?"

He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "A little," he admits. "Did it make you uncomfortable?"

She changes from lines to arches, her fingertips applying more pressure as she considers his question. "I couldn't figure out how I felt so I just pushed it onto you."

"I'm okay with that," he decides.

She rolls onto her back, placing a little distance between their bodies. "Did you mean what you said later?" she asks, fidgeting. "When we were in bed?"

"Every word," he replies without hesitation.

She swallows hard, the admission hitting her a little rougher than she'd expected. "Why?"

He lifts his head up off his pillow and props it up with his forearm, faces her. As the seconds tick by, he hears the doors of opportunity creaking shut. "Why not?" he finally counters.

Her eyes meet his for a brief moment. He's guarded, and the dark color in his irises betrays his uncertainty. She reaches up and instinctively traces a path down the stubble along his chin, watching as his eyelids close and open again. "Is that how you feel?" she asks tentatively.

He takes her hand into his and rolls onto his stomach beside her. "Look where we are, Calleigh."

She shakes her head with almost enough conviction to persuade herself. "We're here because my brother decided to book us a suite."

He frowns. "So if we had separate rooms, we wouldn't be here?"

Where 'here' is, she isn't sure, but she closes her eyes and tries to imagine it anyway, tries to imagine not curling up in his arms and breathing in his scent, imagines being alone. "Maybe not," she replies after a moment of hesitation. It isn't entirely a lie; the first time she'd fallen asleep the night before, she'd done it without him. He just makes it… easier.

He nods stiffly and gently rubs her arm as though he knows it's the last time he'll get to see her like this. "Tonight, I'll sleep in the other room."

She wants to tell him no, that they're only here for another two nights anyway, but she's aware enough to realize she'd be masking the real reason she wants him here with the excuse of time. She's not aware enough to pinpoint what exactly that reason is, though, so she remains quiet and allows the moment to pass. They remain motionless for a few minutes, silently suspended, until she feels a feather-light kiss against her bare shoulder and senses the bed shifting, his body rising. By the time she opens her eyes, he's already standing by the door.

He opens his mouth as though to say something but seems to decide against it. Without another word, he slips out of the room.

She lazes around for a few more minutes before getting up herself. She quickly realizes that the skating has left its mark, her muscles screaming at her all the way to the kitchen. He isn't there, but a moment later, she hears the water running in the bathroom. She slumps into a seat and contemplates breakfast. As she's about to rise to call up some room service, her own phone rings, simultaneously vibrating loudly against the kitchen counter. She doesn't particularly want to speak to anyone, but it's Valera and she picks up.

"Hey there, Calleigh," Valera chirps, a little too cheery. "How's your vacation?"

"Hey," Calleigh replies softly. She realizes the emotional edge in her voice and quickly clears her throat. "It's going well."

If Valera catches her tone, she doesn't mention it. "Thought I'd call and check up on you. Make sure you knew I've been harassing the bullet guy from swing who's covering for you."

Calleigh chuckles, her mood uplifted slightly at the idea of Valera pestering her temporary replacement. "Thanks, Maxine."

"So, did you and Eric get around to talking?" Valera asks without a hint of her teasing nature. She seems genuinely concerned for Calleigh's wellbeing.

"Not really," Calleigh replies. A half-truth, that, but she figures it's better than having to talk about it with Eric in the next room.

"Come on, Calleigh," Valera insists. "You'll feel better if you talk to him about it."

Calleigh hesitates. "I don't know what 'it' is."

"Just… stuff!" Valera supplies uselessly. "Do you think he would have traveled thousands of miles away from home for anyone?"

"I—I don't know."

"Sweetie, wake up. He's waiting for you." Valera's voice softens uncharacteristically. "If he hasn't said anything yet, it's out of respect for what recently happened to Hagen."

"And before that?"

"Before that," Valera replies, "he was being a wimp. Calleigh, think about it. After Speed's shooting, you two drifted apart. Don't interrupt me; you did. Everyone could see that. A little over a month ago, after his toothing got him involved in a case, something clicked with you. You guys grew close again. He's stayed out of trouble since then, hasn't he? He needs you as much as you need him."

"I don't need—" Calleigh pulls her lips into a thin line. "You've taken time out of your life to think about our relationship?" she asks with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm flattered."

Valera laughs. "You'd be surprised how much philosophy goes through the DNA lab. Ryan and I have been theorizing that—"

Calleigh groans internally. "Ryan, too?"

"Well, mostly me, but he follows me around like a lost puppy and agrees with everything I say," Valera dismisses. "Anyway, ask him about it."

"I think—" Calleigh pauses for a moment to search for the correct words. She weighs the consequences of telling Valera anything important, of telling anyone anything important, but she finally decides to trust her. Calleigh has the feeling it's more for her own sanity than Valera's insatiable curiosity. "Maybe he already mentioned… it."

She can hear Valera frowning at the other end. "Maybe?"

"I don't know," Calleigh says rather uselessly. She takes a quick, cautious peek toward the bathroom, has learned how quickly he showers over the past two days. "Listen, Valera, I gotta go."

"I hear a shower running. Is someone else there with you?" Valera asks casually before it clicks with her. "Oh my God."

Calleigh senses her own cheeks burning up. "No, no, Valera," she protests, "you stop that right now."

But Valera's voice seems to have risen an octave or two, and Calleigh's objections go ignored. "Calleigh, when were you going to tell me?"

Calleigh runs her hand across her face. God damn it. She was really going to get it now. "My brother booked us a suite but you listen to me. We're not—" She cuts herself off when she hears the shower being turned off. She lowers her voice. "I have to go."

"When are we going to talk about this?" Valera squeals.

Calleigh picks at a piece of lint on her shirt. "There are two beds," she clarifies.

"Say, when you get back?" Valera presses.

Calleigh doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Maybe when I get back," she relents. "But I swear, if you misrepresent this to anyone—"

"Your secret's safe with me," Valera promises. "See you in a few days, Calleigh."

"Bye, Maxine."

Immediately after hanging up the phone, Calleigh is surprised by the sudden gut wrenching emotion that tears through her. She'd learned to take Valera's words with a grain of salt, but she can't figure out why everyone else – even her five-year-old niece – seems to understand her relationship with Eric better than herself. She takes a deep breath, pushes back her confusion. She'd have plenty of time to think about it at night, she thinks dryly, when she was sleeping in her king-sized bed by herself. But she isn't thinking about any of that right now, and by the time Eric enters the kitchen smelling a little like hotel shampoo, she's properly recomposed herself.

Eric, however, appears decidedly uncomfortable. "Breakfast?"

She nods. "Let me take a quick shower and we can go and grab something."

It doesn't take her long to shower and complete the rest of her morning routine. As she blow dries her hair, she stares into the mirror and studies her reflection. Despite everything that's happened in the past week, including the amount of sheer confusion that'd been piled onto her that morning, she finds herself at ease. She notices that she looks… happy. Or happier, anyway. She tries for a tiny smile, finds that she likes the way it adorns her lips. Confrontations, she deals with every day at work, but she'd never enjoyed confrontations in her personal life. With Eric, it hadn't really been a confrontation between them but rather one between her heart and her brain.

And Valera. The lab tech had grown on her. Quirky yet caring. Forthright yet understanding. And maybe… maybe she'd been right.

Calleigh finds Eric leaning against the kitchen counter with the morning paper. Upon noticing her, he looks up and smiles slightly. He tosses the newspaper aside and stands up straight. "Ready to go?"

She picks up her purse. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Breakfast passes without incident, and the two decide to do some more sightseeing, though Calleigh assures Eric that there isn't much to see, especially in comparison to the flurry of activity in Miami. But there's a charm to a smaller city, a happy medium between large metropolitans and empty rural areas, and because Thunder Bay is a port town at heart, in some ways, that helps dissuade any homesickness either might've experienced.

After catching a lunch of fresh seafood, Calleigh mentions a ranch nearby that her brother had spoken positively about. Having grown up in Miami, Eric is unsure about the trip, but Calleigh convinces him there's nothing to worry about. Thus, the afternoon is spent horseback riding on a pair of old but elegant mares. The horses seem to smell the city boy in Eric and give him a hard time, but he manages to make it through the day with nothing more than sore thighs.

The ranch sells homemade sandwiches, which Eric and Calleigh end up having for dinner on their way back to the hotel. Upon reaching their room, before Calleigh has a chance to jump into the shower, Eric stops her.

"Let's go swimming," he suggests.

She chuckles, surprised. "Seriously?"

"I miss it," he admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I know it's probably only been a week since I last jumped in the water, but it feels like forever."

She smiles, finding his addition rather endearing. "I need to take a quick shower."

"You smell fine," he offers.

She gives him a look. "I'm going to rinse and change into my swimsuit," she informs him, leaving to do just that.

Eric uses that time to get changed himself, and when Calleigh emerges from the bathroom, she hands him a towel, hers already wrapped securely around her hips. He tries not to stare, because it's rude, and because it's Calleigh, but he has to focus to keep his eyes on her face. He thinks of Hagen, of why they're here, and it becomes a little easier.

Without verbal exchanges, she leads him downstairs to the pool room. He brightens up immediately, tossing his towel aside and kicking his flip-flops away. He jumps smoothly into the pool, his body disappearing beneath the piercingly blue water. A moment later, he resurfaces, droplets of moisture rolling down his cheeks, his neck and shoulders. He grins up at her, motioning for her to join him. Her towel slides from her torso; she places it neatly beside his, slips off her own flip-flops and steps to the edge of the pool.

"I'm just gonna watch you for a bit," she tells him, her bare legs kicking lightly against the water.

He dives underwater and with powerful, trained strokes, he swims a quick lap around the pool, dodging a few other swimmers in his path. She's only ever seen him free swim a few times – mostly she saw him equipped with diving gear in the canals of Miami – but it never fails to awe her, the way he navigates the water, controls and manipulates it.

He resurfaces again near her legs. "Come on, Cal," he urges. "You're gonna get cold up there."

"There's a steam room," she informs him, pointing to a closed door at the other end of the pool. "I'm thinking your argument is fairly ineffective," she explains playfully.

He approaches, his arm reaching out to grab her ankle. "Swim with me."

She kicks away his hand, then pushes off the edge with her arms. Her body slides into the pool with little resistance, the water cool against her skin. She swipes at a few strands of wet hair clinging to her face. "What do you love so much about the water?"

"It makes me feel weightless."

She grins. "Couldn't stay out of the water for a week?"

He appears a little sheepish. "It's a bit of an addiction."

She chuckles. "Clearly." She slaps her open palm against the water, sending a splash of water at Eric's face. Before he has a chance to retaliate, she kicks off and glides away. Eric allows her a moment's head start and takes off after her, easing up on his strides as he nears her. When she resurfaces at the other end, he makes his move, hitting the water with a precision that only years of practice could've harbored. Calleigh ducks, dodging the brunt of the splash but still getting thoroughly hit by the wave. She raises her arms in defeat.

He swims toward her. "Give up?"

She makes one last weak splash and smiles. "I can predict the future and I don't like it," she says with a chuckle. "It involves me getting splashed over and over."

He dives underwater and resurfaces mere inches from her body. "Fine, no splashing, but think you can catch me?" he challenges, disappearing beneath the surface again.

Calleigh, however, has speedy reflexes and instinctively reaches down and grabs his shoulders, wrapping her legs around whatever part of his torso she can catch. She barely has a chance to take a proper breath before she's pulled underwater. She digs her nails into his skin in protest, and he quickly breaks the surface, rubbing the area along his arm where she'd accidentally scratched him.

"Sorry," she murmurs from behind him, her legs still securely wrapped around his waist. "But it really wasn't that difficult to catch you."

He chuckles, paddling backwards until he has her pinned between the side of the pool and his back. "You cheated."

She rests her chin against his left shoulder, her breath brushing against his earlobe. "Did not."

There's a moment when their bodies are pressed together that she feels at peace, completely and unequivocally comfortable with the position, but it doesn't last, and she quickly grows embarrassed. Her legs loosen around his torso, and she gives him a gentle push. He kicks away from the wall to give her some space, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Are you any good at springboard diving?" Calleigh asks him.

"Am I any good?" he scoffs playfully. "I am the master."

She smiles. "Do you want to show off?" she asks, motioning toward the lone springboard resting three meters above the surface of the water.

"Yeah," he chuckles, looking over his shoulder at the board, "but don't laugh if I belly-flop."

Her smile widens. "Promise."

Eric pulls himself out of the water and heads toward the diving board. He doesn't remember the last time he'd actually done this at a pool, and with Calleigh watching his every move, three meters suddenly doesn't seem so trivial. He climbs the steps slowly, focuses on breathing properly and when he finally reaches the top, he isn't so nervous anymore. With one quick glance at Calleigh, then another at the water directly underneath to ensure no unfortunate swimmers are present, he bounces off the springboard and into the air. He manages a double front flip before sloppily breaking the surface with his outstretched hands. No Olympics in diving medals in his future, but it impresses a few swimmers who'd been watching.

He paddles over to Calleigh. "Didn't belly-flop," he chuckles.

Calleigh appears astonished. "I'll say." She turns to look at the diving board again. "When'd you learn to do that?"

He grins. "There're only so many hours you can spend at the pool without wanting to jump off something high."

She mirrors his smile. "One day, you're going to teach me."

The next quarter-hour is spent lazing around in the water, on account of both being sore from skating the day before. Soon, Calleigh tires of swimming, and Eric sufficiently receives his fix for the week, so the two climb out of the pool and grab their towels.

"I'm going to make a trip to the steam room," Calleigh announces, pressing her hair to squeeze out the water.

Eric runs his towel hastily over his body. "Mind if I join you?"

She shakes her head, beads of water flinging around her as she does. "No, of course not. Come on."

The steam room is empty when they enter, but the sudden heat takes a moment to adjust to. A light sheen of humidity immediately clings to their respective bodies, but it's not unwelcome. Calleigh pads over to the lower bench and sits down; Eric slips into the seat beside her. She leans back against the upper bench and closes her eyes, taking small, shallow breaths to make up for the lack of breathable oxygen. He watches her for a moment, simply enjoying seeing her relaxed.

"Don't sleep on the couch tonight," she says quietly.

He hesitates. "It's not a couch when it's pulled out."

She takes a breath, two, her chest rising and falling evenly with each one. "I—don't want to sleep alone," she admits with a hint of anxiety.

He exhales, a million thoughts swimming through his mind. "Calleigh, what are you asking?" he breathes, his own voice so low it's almost pushed back by the steam. "You told me you didn't need me there."

She experiences a strange twinge in her chest. "That's not what I said."

His brain working against the heat, he tries to focus. "What you said was if we had separate rooms," he rehashes, "you'd be okay with separate sleeping arrangements."

Her eyes pierce his. "I need time to figure this thing with us out," she tells him with a quiet assurance. "We're only here until Wednesday."

If he'd needed a reason before, he doesn't anymore. "Okay," he agrees.

Her "thank you" is so soft he almost doesn't hear her, but he does. He smiles, fighting the sudden, inexplicable urge to touch her. As though she senses that need, she laces her fingers loosely through his. She closes her eyes again, leans back and attempts to return to her previous state of mind. She tilts her head around in a circle, wincing slightly as her sore neck muscles are strained. With the fingers of her free hand, she brushes her damp hair away from her back and applies pressure to the base of her neck, carefully kneading her own skin to alleviate the ache.

Through half-lidded eyes, he watches her for a few minutes. "Sore?"

Her head leans forward in a nod. "Yeah."

He keeps her sight trained on her for another minute or two before he releases her hand and climbs up to the bench behind her and takes a seat there, easing his legs on either side of her. He's careful not to touch her arms with his knees. Taking a moment to work up some courage, his fingers land on tense shoulders. With his thumbs, he makes a small but firm arc against the back of her neck. Her muscles contract beneath his touch. He repeats the motion, a little further down, and leans in next to her ear. "Is this okay?"

She holds back a shiver and nods her approval, not trusting herself to do much more. The air is suddenly hotter, thicker, and while his fingers feel amazing against her skin, she can't bring herself to ease enough to really enjoy it.

"Relax," he murmurs next to her ear as his fingers skirt along her shoulders and upper back, applying small circles of pressure and making her squirm slightly.

She squeezes her eyelids shut and focuses on her breathing. His hands are soft but strong against her shoulders, skilled, and she decides that this is much better than attempting to give herself a massage. Just Eric, she reminds herself. And just a massage. Something she could've gotten from a stranger at the spa. The thought seems to reassure her, and eventually, she manages to relax.

"I bet Ella isn't sore from a little skating," he teases.

She chuckles. "Like you aren't aching," she retaliates.

"Am not," he fibs. He hits a particularly tense spot, and she leans forward to suppress a moan. He shifts, his leg brushing against her arm.

"Too bad," she taunts, her voice low and tranquil, "I was just about to ask if you'd like me to reciprocate."

He tries to appear hurt. "That's not fair."

"Serves you right for lying," she counters, her words followed by a soft sound of approval as he hits the knot along her spine.

Eric, meanwhile, tries hard not to let the heat get to him. He'd forgotten why he'd thought this was such a brilliant idea, but he comes to the swift realization that the whole situation has the potential to become very embarrassing for him. Very, very quickly. He hears his willpower fading away and begins thinking up ways to cover up, in case it becomes noticeable. Some are more creative than others, but before he has the need to employ any of these techniques, Calleigh rises, gently shaking off his hands. She stretches slightly, arching her back to test her muscles, and she finds that they ache considerably less than before.

He grins. "Better?"

She laughs. "Your hands are magic," she replies, genuinely grateful.

The pair makes their way back up to their suite, warm and comfortable. While Calleigh waits for her hair to air dry, Eric changes and settles into bed, exhausted. Forty minutes later, when she finally joins him, he's in a deep sleep, his body warm and firm. She curls up beside him, and he moves in his sleep to fit her into his arms. She breathes against him, listens to his steady heart rate and falls asleep with little difficulty.

Turns out, his hands aren't the only parts of him with a little bit of magic.