Author: Lori51

Rating: T

Disclaimers: These characters do not belong to me.

Category: DuCaine

Drama/Romance

Summary: Horatio and Calleigh are together and starting a family, better late than never. But life is change, and this changes everything. How will they learn to be a family with all the adjustments that brings? DuCaine moving into the future post-series. Sequel to A Sea Change.

Timeline: Post-Series

A/N: This isn't anywhere close to finished so it may be slow going at times. But I'm off for the summer and my muse is really into this story, so I will post as often as I can.

One

Horatio was as quiet as he could be when he let himself into the house. It was far later than he'd intended to be, especially today, on the kids' last day of school, but it couldn't be helped. He had wanted to take them out for a celebratory dinner, but he knew they wouldn't mind doing it tomorrow. Or, actually, later today. They'd go out together and do something fun, make a day of it. He was still here to make plans, and after a day like today, that was saying something. Thank God Calleigh had taken the day off to help out at the kids' school during their end-of-year parties. This was the kind of day he was quite happy she'd missed.

The house was dark and quiet as he moved through it more slowly than usual. The painkillers were starting to wear off, and he winced as he moved to take off his jacket. He pulled the blister pack of pills Alexx had given him so he wouldn't have to stop at the pharmacy on the way home out of his pocket before draping it over a chair. Damn, this was the kind of day that, before Calleigh, would have seen him asking Frank to take him to a bar, so he could get himself shit-faced drunk, and stay to drive him home. It was that bad. He wondered idly if there was a law that you had to work the day from hell in order to go on vacation. Because he could have lived the rest of his life without going through this day, and been quite happy about it. Okay, that wasn't entirely true. A lot of lives had been changed for the better today, and he had been a part of that. He was proud of that; he couldn't deny it. It was still a shit day. He figured he really shouldn't test his luck and complain about it, since there were obviously untold ways that it could have been worse. He was home with his family. That was all that mattered.

The lure of the bar proved too much to resist, but at least it was their bar at home. One drink. That was all he would have, and then he would drag his tired old body up those damn stairs. He knew Calleigh wasn't awake and he didn't expect her to be. If she hadn't answered when he'd texted her that Frank was taking him to the ER and not taking no for an answer, at Frank's insistence, then she was out for the night, and the only thing that would wake her up was a sound from one of the kids through their monitors. Damned if he could figure out how the hell that worked. Mother's instinct, he guessed. He supposed it was a measure of the trust she had in him that she hadn't trained herself to respond to his text ringtone with the same urgency. Now all he had to do was prove himself worthy of that unshakable trust. He was working on it.

He poured himself a drink and took it out to the deck so that he could watch the ocean. The night was still warm, so he reached for the top button of his shirt. Damn it, that hurt, and he had to set his glass down so that he could use both hands to unbutton his shirt. Why he'd bothered with the damn thing anyway was a mystery. It was slashed almost in half and hard with his dried blood. It was going in the trash, along with his similarly ruined undershirt. He should've just thrown them out at the hospital and saved Calleigh having to see them, but no, he hadn't wanted to ask for something to wear that he knew damn well Alexx would've happily gotten him, or even Frank, from his car. He had no idea why he had to be so damned stubborn sometimes.

Frank. Damn it. He gave up on his shirt and sat himself down, taking a long, deep drink. He owed Frank an apology. He had been beyond pissed when Frank had insisted that he go to the ER, maintaining that it was just a scratch and he was fine. Frank had finally lost his temper. Understandable, really, after the hellish scene they had just walked out of.

"Damn it, Horatio! It's not a fucking scratch! You were damn near gutted and if it weren't for all that working out with Calleigh there would've been a whole lot more of you to gut and we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You'd be on a stretcher or filling up a god-damned body bag. And I'm the one who would have had to tell Calleigh and your kids!" He was shouting now, his face red with fury. "You know damn well Calleigh will shoot my ass if I don't take you to the hospital when you're bleeding like a stuck pig! So just shut up and get in the damn car!" It had been a long time since he'd seen Frank Tripp that pissed. If he ever had. He took another drink, emptying the glass. Damn, that was fast. He should have just brought out the bottle. He wanted more, but he didn't have the energy to go back into the house and get it.

Even Alexx had taken him to task when she'd seen him come into the ER, shrugging it off like he always did even while he was covered in blood, two shirts and quite a few layers of skin shredded. "Dear Lord, baby, what the hell did you do to yourself this time?" she'd exclaimed, peeling back the blood-soaked gauze one of the paramedics had given him when he'd refused medical attention. It had been a long, deep slice across his belly, and he'd been damn lucky it hadn't nicked anything vital, Alexx had scolded him. He knew she was right. He did, and when he thought of Calleigh and the kids… he had no idea what he was going to say. He honestly hadn't thought it was that bad. It had been a freak thing. The poor kid had no idea what was going on, was starved, dehydrated and traumatized out of his mind, and had been reacting purely on survival instinct. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone.

The sound of the back door opening made him jump in his chair, and then gasp in pain. Calleigh crossed to him, looking ethereally beautiful in her silk robe. He looked up at her, the guilt clear in his eyes, knowing she was going to be very pissed and that she had every right to be. The look in her eyes surprised him. She looked like she wasn't surprised to see him half drunk on the back porch at two in the morning covered in blood. She was looking at him fondly, with understanding that he didn't deserve, with compassion that he didn't deserve either. "You going to stay out here all night?" she asked softly, cocking her head like she did when she was trying to be patient with him, or one of the kids. "Or are you going to come inside so I can take care of you?"

"Cal, I'm so sorry. I…" She silenced him with a finger at his lips. "Hush. I heard. I'll chew your ass out tomorrow. Right now I just want to take care of you. Come inside and tell me while I get you cleaned up." She took his hand and half pulled him out of the chair, meeting his haunted eyes, knowing that nothing she could say would be worse than the self-flagellation he had already given himself. She had already gotten an earful from both Alexx, who had called her when she'd released him from the ER, and Frank, who had called her after he'd dropped Horatio off. She'd been waiting for him in bed, and when it became painfully obvious that he was going to sit out here and beat himself up, she couldn't take it anymore. Finally getting him to his feet, she lifted a hand to his face. God, she could have lost him tonight, and here he was sitting out here drinking alone because he couldn't face her. If he didn't know better than that by now, she was certainly doing a piss-poor job of things.

Slowly, carefully, she wrapped him in her arms, gently bringing his head to her shoulder, holding him and stroking his hair, his back, his face. She took care not to get near his abdomen. Thirty-eight stitches was nothing to sneeze at, even for Horatio Caine. He had to be hurting. Finally she drew back, satisfied that he was here, and safe. "Come on." She took his hand and led him through the house, grabbing up the pill pack she saw on the table on the way. Bless you, Alexx, she thought. She had no idea what she'd do without friends like these. She wasn't blind to the path she'd chosen. While it would always be worth it, it wouldn't always be easy, and she'd take all the help that she could get.

In the bedroom, she stripped him of his ruined clothes. Even his pants were going in the trash, although she was withholding judgment on the shoes. They may be salvageable. They had done a thorough job in the ER. His skin was clean under all that dried blood and nothing had soaked though the gauze pad, so she left it alone. She popped one of the pills out of the pack and handed it to him, along with the glass of water she had on the nightstand, and then took it back after he'd swallowed the pill. She pulled him with her to the bed, while he still watched her with those sad, beseeching eyes, so lost, she thought with a pang. Did he really think she would be that angry? Did he really think she wouldn't be here for him when he needed her? She could see that he wasn't up to talking right now and she didn't force the issue. It would keep.

She settled into the pillows and brought him with her, pulling him close and laying his head on her chest, over her heart, as he curled himself around her and made himself comfortable with a long contented sigh. "I love you, handsome," she murmured, stroking his hair. "Sleep." It satisfied her immeasurably that he went right to sleep in her arms, and she finally drifted off still holding him protectively.