Author's note: This was going to be a one-shot, but then after what Calleigh and Eric said in "Sink or Swim," I just had to add the conversation they alluded to.

Wakening

Minutes passed in silence. Eric held Calleigh's hand in his, massaging it gently. Her eyes had closed, and he thought she was asleep. He was thinking through a hundred permutations of what he was going to say to her, because he was determined to tell her exactly how he felt about her, because he'd almost lost her without ever having said it, because he'd held her in his arms and felt her fighting to draw breath, because she'd heard him say he couldn't imagine living his life without her, and she'd asked him to stay.

But it wouldn't be easy. He wasn't even sure what he was afraid of, but remembered too acutely the pain of hearing her say she was so confused, and watching her walk away. He couldn't just tell her that he loved her: not because it wasn't true, but because it was too true, too much. And at the same time, too little. He'd said those words to dozens of women before, not always sincerely. Love could mean a lot of things. It was so vague, so common. Merely telling her he loved her wouldn't come close to expressing how much she meant to him.

Calleigh coughed. Her wince of pain made Eric ache in sympathy.

"Are you okay?" he asked, then realized how stupid the question was: obviously not. "Do you want me to get a doctor?"

"No. I'm okay." She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

A long moment later, Eric said, "I was so scared I was going to lose you."

"I know. I felt the same way when you were shot."

"Not exactly the same way." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining leaping over a cliff as he forced himself to finally admit the truth. "Calleigh, I don't know what exactly you read in Dr. Marsh's file on me, but I talked to her about you a lot."

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. What he'd said when he thought she couldn't hear him had been enough to convince her the spark between them was more than just a passing infatuation on his part, but she wanted to hear it again, now that she was fully conscious. She wanted to always hear it.

"I have these feelings for you. For a long time." He paused between each sentence, evaluating every word before releasing it. "When you chose Jake, I kept waiting for them to go away, but they didn't. They're not going to." He looked down at his hands, still wrapped around hers. But loosely now, as though to allow her to escape if she disapproved of his sentiments. "I'm happy just being with you, just working with you, if that's all you want. I wouldn't trade your friendship for anything. But..." He paused, bit his lip, then looked into her eyes. "I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. You deserve to know that."

"Eric..." she whispered, "I care for you. I always have."

"But we work together," he said with a note of resignation, expecting those to be her next words.

"If you're sure about this, if you're sure that's the way you really feel, then it's a risk I'm willing to take."

His heart was pounding at her words, and almost a quarter of a minute passed before he trusted himself to speak again. "I've never been more sure about anything. But what matters is what you want."

She smiled softly. "You don't have to worry about that." Her eyes closed.

Eric decided not to ask what she meant. She needed to rest.

Of course, he couldn't be sure she'd remember this conversation later, or feel the same way when the medication and the shock of the near-death experience wore off. He had to prepare himself for that possibility. But right now he just wanted to be there for her. He lifted her hand and lightly pressed his lips to it, wondering if she was still awake enough to feel it, if she'd mind. But what mattered most to him was that she was alive.