Open Invitation

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Miami or any of the characters.

Summary: He'd come face to face with his own mortality. She was determined not to let him face it alone. [Post ep for Dispo Day.]

He had fucked up. He didn't need anyone to highlight his errors for him, he didn't need the sympathetic stares or the constant inquiries as to his current mental and emotional stability. He'd been lazy concerning his gun maintenance and, despite Calleigh's assurances earlier, sergeant Hollis had paid the price.

Two little girls would never see their father again because of his oversight. His negligence.

It should have been him. He'd known it as soon as the paramedics had pronounced Hollis dead; it should have been him. Hollis had a wife, a family. Him? He had nothing. He had escaped this close call to return to an empty apartment and drown his guilt in cheap beer.

There was no one to mourn him, save his parents back in Queens, and they would survive.

What of Hollis' wife?

His daughters?

How would they fare?

He shook his head as he strode toward the parking lot. He didn't want to think about them now. He couldn't. All he wanted at the moment was to get on his bike and disappear.

"Hey," a voice called from behind him.

His pace slowed marginally but he didn't pause.

She would catch up with him, of that he was sure. She always did and tonight would be no different.

"Hey," he threw back, smiling grimly as the 'clack' of her heels quickened, no doubt in a doubled attempt to reach him.

Even if she caught up with him physically, she wouldn't truly reach him tonight. He wouldn't allow it, couldn't. She was such a happy creature, unfailingly armed with a smile and a kind word. Her steadfast loyalty and faith never ceased to amaze him, or touch that small place inside him that was still capable of feeling emotion, but he couldn't bring her down. Not tonight.

Not after his mistake could have cost her her job.

And it wasn't just a job for her, it was a calling. He knew that just as sure as he regarded their profession with the detachment and dourness of a paycheck only mentality, she took each and every case to heart. Each bullet meant something, each arrest and prosecution profound to her entire existence, which was comprised of justice and good deeds.

He'd almost cost her that today. She could have lost everything she held dear because of him and she would be kept at a distance, tonight more than ever.

"I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight?" she suggested unsurely as her blonde locks entered his peripheral. "There's a cold beer in my fridge with your name written all over it. What do you say?"

The offer was tempting, inescapably so. He'd been craving a beer since the shooting, even more so since his polygraph, and for some unfathomable reason the prospect of her company made the proposition even sweeter but he couldn't. Instead of rising to meet her level, he would end up lowering her to his.

The fallout would be like popping a child's balloon animal and the thought of hurting her like that made his insides clench uncomfortably. Not that there was a chance in hell that he'd admit it. She unknowingly affected him enough as it was and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she would be unstoppable if she actually became aware of her influence over him.

"Not tonight, Cal," he declined with a shake of his head, inwardly relieved as they came upon his bike which was, ironically enough, parked right next to her bright yellow Jeep.

He turned just in time to catch her smile falter for a moment before brightening again. "At least let me take you home," she offered, eyeing the Ducati warily.

A dark brow rose in question as she visibly gulped before turning rapidly blinking eyes back to him. "Look, I might not be able to handle my gun," he began gruffly, chalking up the curious eye movement as an after effect of the cocaine she'd unknowingly inhaled earlier. "But believe me when I say I can handle my bike."

Meticulously groomed brows furrowed above narrowed green eyes as her posture took on an offensive air. "That is not what I meant and you know it," she protested, hands flying to her hips in agitation. "But can you honestly tell me that you think flying down the road on that...contraption just before midnight is a good idea after what happened today?"

He scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "And what happened today, Calleigh? Why is this day so different from all the others?" he spat, leaning toward her in hopes of intimidating her with his height. Maybe if she felt overwhelmed she'd back off before he said or did something stupid.

Something he couldn't take back.

Her eyes widened a fraction in disbelief at the carelessness with which he regarded his life. "You almost died, Tim," she whispered, Southern drawl devoid of her trademark upbeat lilt. "If you hadn't been wearing that vest-" she broke off, voice faltering a bit as he continued to stare at her, completely unaffected by her plight.

"Well as you can see, I'm perfectly safe," he assured without warmth, eyes holding a malicious gleam. "How safe the Ducati is should be the least of your worries. Trust me when I tell you it's the least of mine." His tone held a note of finality as he promptly turned from her and smoothly mounted his mode of transportation.

He had to escape her. He had to escape that look on her face.

Sparing her one last glance, he was surprised to see her face harden.

"Fine," she began heatedly, turning her back on him and unlocking the door to her Jeep. "If you don't care about your own well-being then there's no reason I should even bother."

Shocked by her sudden mood swing, he opened his mouth to try and mollify her but she carried on, throwing her purse in the car without even glancing back at him.

"You are so selfish, do you know that?" she demanded, turning to glare at him before climbing into the Jeep. "Try not to get yourself killed," she tossed back as she slammed the door, the sound acting as a punctuation to her statement. A testament to her anger.

Moved by the sight of tears she tried to hide, he scrambled in an effort to dismount his bike and catch her but he was too late. Tires squealed as she tore out of the parking lot, ignoring his attempts to call her back.

"Damn it, Calleigh," he growled, kicking the curb as her tail lights disappeared.

"Speed."

It wasn't a question, a summons or an accusation. It was a statement and, when he turned to face Horatio, he was not met with criticism or judgment, just a solemn sense of understanding.

"How much of that did you hear?" he wondered, breath coming out in heavy, uneven pants.

Horatio's head tilted to the side but his expression was as indecipherable as always. "Enough."

Tim shifted under the older man's penetrating gaze, feeling very much like a scolded child despite his boss' silence. "I didn't mean to be so harsh with her," he explained feebly, sounding unsure of himself even to his own ears. "I just...I just need to be alone right now."

Though Horatio's well-guarded countenance gave nothing away, Tim felt his displeasure as he dipped his head, staring at him through hooded eyes. "Are you sure about that?"

His mouth dropped a bit at the open verbal challenge as his lieutenant continued.

"Speed, do you realize what you turned down tonight?"

He sighed, mentally preparing for the lecture he knew he deserved. "A cold beer and the company of a pretty lady."

Horatio smiled and shook his head in that all-knowing way of his. "You turned down the opportunity to assure her that you were okay." He paused, studying his young CSI for a moment before adding: "To make her okay."

He shook his head, eyebrows going up in confusion. "I don't think I understand..."

A weary laugh escaped Horatio as he walked toward the reckless biker before him. "According to Alexx, your brush with death shook Calleigh pretty badly. It is my guess that she extended an invitation to you tonight for her benefit as much as yours."

"But she didn't even-" he protested immediately only to be cut off as his superior forged on.

"Of course she didn't," he began, answering Tim's incomplete statement. "She knows better than to ask if you're alright."

Another sigh escaped him but, unlike his resigned exhalation from earlier, this one conveyed the trace expert's growing frustration with the lab's blonde ballistics analyst. "Why didn't she just say that then?"

Blue eyes narrowed and Tim shivered under the intensity of their glare. "In the heat of the moment, how would you have reacted?"

He opened his mouth to deny the accusation but the words wouldn't form. Horatio was right. He would have lashed out at her anyway.

Having seen realization dawn on his colleague's normally impassive face, Horatio turned to leave Tim with his thoughts but paused when the younger man's gruff timbre called out to him.

"Hey, H," he began hesitantly. "Can I hitch a ride with you?"

000

For the first time in his life, Tim Speedle was nervous. His palms were sweaty and there was a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball. A hasty, cowardly retreat briefly crossed his mind before he shook his head and continued on his way to her apartment. Sure he could have made a break for the parking lot and she probably never would have been the wiser but it wouldn't help either of them. It wouldn't erase the tension he'd so carelessly created.

Not to mention that he was stranded. He'd assured Horatio that he would be fine and had sent his mentor on his way a good ten minutes ago. He only hoped that he would be fine.

Calleigh wasn't called Bullet Girl for nothing.

He wasn't entirely sure which one of them was more startled when she opened her door and found him standing there but he did know one thing: it killed him to see her red-rimmed eyes and tear stained face and know, without a doubt, that he was the cause. He'd screwed up so many things in less than twenty four hours and, while he would come to terms with most of them over time, he wasn't sure how he'd get over the fact that he'd brought her to tears.

In all the time he'd known her, worked beside her, he'd never seen her cry.

He found himself momentarily at a loss for words as her green eyes scanned him warily and, when he finally did find his voice, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"I think I'll take that beer now. If the offer still stands, that is."

It was lame and didn't even begin to make up for how he'd hurt her earlier but it chased that haunted look from her eyes and that was really all that mattered to him. She launched herself at him unexpectedly and he stood there for a moment, shocked by the out of character action, before placing a hand on her back to steady her and gently walking them into her apartment.

He knew he was in for a long night but, as the door clicked behind him, he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd do whatever it took to assure her that he was alright and make sure that she was alright in return.

Please review.