[AUTHOR'S NOTE:] My Muse has arrived at my new residence, cranky and grumbling and in a sulk. Another chapter seemed in order, so here we go! Horatio and Calleigh talk and she discovers something more about her new lover. And Eric discovers how love can drive someone to great ambition - while taking a back seat to a desire to heal wounds even when all hope seems lost.. Please let me know if you folks are reading and enjoying this - I love reviews! :) Jason must defend the Lab in secret from a deadly foe - with a little help from another of Ian's agents!

- Shadewynde

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Forty-Two: "Fang and Claw"

"Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't."
― Mark Twain, "Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World"

Calleigh was watching Horatio drowse, enjoying the rare view of her lover's face relaxed in sleep. The warmth of his skin against her own was - still - warmly sensual, and the blonde felt the faint sparks along her skin made simple contact all the more precious to her.
Horatio's eyelids fluttered slightly, and she held him tighter, hoping that she could keep his dreams - his nightmares - from gaining a grip over the tenuous peace of the redhead's rest.
Careful to keep her voice soft and soothing, aware that even the faintest sudden sound could jar him into full wakefulness, Calleigh whispered, "It's all right, shhh. Relax, Handsome. It's just you and me."
This time the dream-pained voice came out on the edge of what sounded suspiciously like a sob, "No...no...Chaucer...Chaucer...DON'T TOUCH HIM!"
His blue eyes snapped open, so full of pain they were almost bruised-black. Once more, his thrashing once again almost landed him on the floor. Only Calleigh's tender grip and the tenuous brace of the sheets kept his night terror from sending him tumbling out of of the bed, causing Calliegh to feel her heart ache for him, for the pain he kept so deeply hidden.
As a knock sounded on the door, Calliegh asked herself again, That name again...who is Chaucer?

Speed was drinking a cup of much-needed coffee when Jason stalked past him, looking like a lightning-strike on it's way to an epic Olympian battle.
The returned-CSI paused, looking back at the blonde, who was once again sorting through evidence packets.
After a moment, the dark-haired man commented quietly, "I know that look."
Jason didn't even look up. "Michelle's comin' in." he stated.
"Must be serious."
The blonde switched slides. "Allen." he returned, shortly.
"Big trouble."
"An' we got two watchin' us."
Speed swore inventively. "Which two?" he asked, glancing back for the two CSIs who were headed into the AV Lab.
"Off th' cuff, I'd say the female critter an' the brainless one."
The dark-haired man scowled. "How're we handlin' it, Jase?"
Jason glanced up, a faint smile touching his face, one that made the other man's blood run cold. It always had.
Nonetheless, Speed frowned, commenting, "Ya know, knowing what they're walking into, I almost feel sorry for 'em."
Jason pressed another slide into the microscope, fingers light as he wrote something down.
"I don't." The grey-blue eyes that glanced up to meet Speed's were colder than a shark's. "They're walkin' inta my world. I don't need any
more excuse'n that."

Eric stared at the older man, aware he must look pretty funny with his eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open.
"Twin?" he got out, feeling startled. "I knew Ryan has an older sister..." he began.
"Sharon? She hasn't seen Tia in years, and Ryan doesn't have much to do with her. He keeps in contact with his niece through cards and gifts, but they aren't really close." Ron swung up into the stool next to the bar, rubbing his hand over his eyes.
Eric stared at the man a moment, then looked back at the door. The horrible retching sounds had stopped, and he could hear Ryan speaking quietly and the female voice - soft, raw and full of pain - answer.
Ron spoke almost sadly. "I can't tell you how upset Ryan gets when Tia goes through an attack, much less how much she panics when she knows Ryan's hurt or in trouble." He shook his head, his brown hair showing the first signs of grey. "When Ryan dropped out of school, I thought Tia was going to have a heart attack..."
"He has a Masters', doesn't he? Genetics?" Now Eric's innate curiosity was back full force.
"Yeah, both of 'em, smart as whips." Ron's tones were fond and proud. "Different specialties, but Tia cried for days when she found out Ryan had joined the Academy. Poor thing felt like it was her fault." Again, he shook his head. "Blind in one eye for days after Ryan got hurt at work, then wanted to take care of her "big brother" while he was hurt. They're really close, even for twins." He blew out a breath, glancing back at the still closed-door, and blew air out sharply. "The only - and I mean only - time I ever saw Tia get upset with Ryan was when he got into gambling to help with the bills. I warned him, but God knows we needed more than he was making as a cop..."
Eric stared at the older man, partially relieved he was willing to vent, mostly concerned. He truly wanted to help his friend, and Ryan had seemed so distraught he was worried about his fellow CSI.
Ron looked over at the younger man. "When Tia was born, she was so weak and sick it was touch-and-go for three months. Bills, and more bills. Went through my savings so fast it was crazy - not that I minded, they're both great kids - and my sister, well, I can't stand the shrew."
"Sounds like you don't get along."
Ron scowled. "I spent years as a CPA, and she was the family golden child. Modeling." He snorted. "She's eight years older than me, and going on eight." He clenched his hands, eyes showing his fury. "She had Erica - too much like her damn mother - when she was twenty-one and then, eight years later, unexpectedly had Ryan and Tia. Never paid attention to them, so I got custody, tried to give those two as good a life as I could, even - well, I won't go into that mess - but Tia's always been sick, and Ryan's always looked after her. I could swear those two could read each other's mind. Could get downright eerie at the dinner table." He looked up, clearly hearing something, the creak of springs, a worried voice, a softer, reassuring answer.
He looked over at Eric. "Listen, I need to go feed Tia's beasties. Could you keep an eye out for the twins? I'm sure she'd love to meet you, and he could use the support of a buddy."
Beasties? Twins? Okay, I'm beginning to wonder what I do know more than what I don't...! Aloud, Eric said quietly. "Sure. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Get them to eat, Ryan will probably try to order pizza, and Tia needs something more than cheese and pepperoni. And I bet so will he." He rolled his eyes. Ron fished in his pocket and came up with a battered fifty dollar bill.
Eric smiled at the older man, holding up a hand in polite denial. "That's okay, I've got it."
Ron grinned, clearly grateful. "Thanks. I should be back in no more than an hour." he replied, and with a final concerned glance back at the closed door, the older man hurried out with measured steps.

Lustbringer and Bloodsplatter were crouched in the parking lot, when she Shifted to her stunningly beautiful blonde-haired, blue-green eyed female form and scowled at the drooling, over-large, corrupt wolf form of her fellow Vilisune.
Wrinkling her nose at the male, she pouted, a faint frown on her lips.
"They took him." It was sultry, but almost sulky as well. "I can't See through that soft-skinned near-thing any more."
Still hunt. Tear-hunt. Kill-hunt. Help bring down Red. Bloodsplatter's jaw snapped shut with his comment, then fell open, tongue lolling out, dull eyes shining with eagerness.
"I cannot long-speak with the others at this distance. I will get closer. You," and she purred it, stroking the dingy brown fur of her companion in a particularly intimate spot. "You may have this Kill."
Bloodsplatter uttered a low, pleasure-touched whining sound, a warped, twisted version of a purr.
Lustbringer smiled seductively at the other Vilisune, and bit down on his ear, enjoying the whining growl from the male.
"Then, we shall celebrate, as we always do. My pride - my son."

Ryan was holding his twin in his arms, rocking the exhausted form against him as Tia finally slipped into welcome sleep, her body drained after this latest bout.
There was a faint, soft knock on the door, and the CSI's head snapped up, as he spoke softly, "Come in."
Eric carefully stuck his head in the door, concerned to see tears streaming down his friend's cheeks, which Ryan hurriedly dashed aside.
The young Cuban glanced at the thin, attractive young woman in his friend's protective embrace, quietly saying, "I got some baked chicken and some sides...are you..."
Ryan was pretty sure he knew what he was going to say. "We're okay." he almost-whispered. "I need to call the college..."
Eric glanced at the young woman, then quickly back at his friend's face. "Classes...? I don't think an absence will hurt..."
Ryan stared at him, then sighed softly. "She's not a student."
Eric looked at him, opening his mouth to ask, then snapped it closed when Ryan plunged on. "Tia's not a student." He looked up, as though defending his sister, his twin. "She's a Professor about to get tenure." He cradled the young woman closer. "I won't let her lose that."
"She sounds pretty smart." Eric shook his head, in an act of mollification.
"She is." Ryan's voice held a tinge of pride, despite his clear concern. He looked up, directly into his friend's eyes. "Tia's...special."
Eric remembered - painfully - Marisol, struggling with cancer, her...dying.
The agony of it was tempered with the passage of time, her finding love with Horatio - the anger, the loss, the aching emptiness opened up with the loss of her presence in his life, that ache left by the lack of her, the loneliness it left behind in all her family...
The sacrifices made for - for - him by the man who his heart claimed as both father and brother, and the horrible cruelty of the world.
The cold of the injustice of it all.
Hold onto him for me - for us. All of us. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes, and edged in the door, seeing the ravages of unspoken fear in Ryan's anguished gaze.
Awkwardly, he spoke, whisper roughened by the loss of his sister, and the small young face of the young woman his friend unconsciously tried to shield from the pain.
"Let me get you something." he managed, latching onto the idea that he needed to speak to Horatio. Someone who could offer empathy and warmth, compassion and strength.
Like hope. God, I wish H was here. I just don't know what to say.
But his hand closed on Ryan's shoulder, in silent support, and thanked God that Horatio had taught him one thing.
Hope. There's still hope, and we'll be there to help.
Ryan's green-hazel eyes met his, a faint look of surprise showing in their depths.
Eric flushed, grateful that his dusky skin hid the rush of blood to his face.
Ruefully, he realized that he wasn't sure if he had spoken out loud.

Horatio's eyes has returned to their natural, mutable blue and he looked faintly embarrassed. He was clearly about to speak when a deceptively delicate finger pressed against his lips.
Calleigh wasn't having it. She wasn't going to let him apologize for anything.
The knock sounded again, and she looked toward the door, then back at Horatio, who called, "Come in, Austėja."
With a faint laugh, a middle-aged woman came in, smiling at Horatio, eyes twinkling at the faint flush of color appearing on his fair skin as he lightly touched Calleigh's shoulder and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at his old-school manners in the presence of a woman.
Handsome, believe me, any woman fortunate enough to be in a, and next words were accompanied by a mental snort, compromising position with you would show you off!
Austėja shook her head with a chuckle. "I brought up a good brunch for you and the young lady." She winked mischievously at Calleigh. "Your favorite - Belgian waffles!"
The younger woman burst out laughing at the look of embarrassment on Horatio's face.
Austėja winked at Calleigh, her tone teasing as she grinned. "Make the poor boy eat!" With a warm, fond grin at the redhead she swept out the way she had entered, closing the door behind her.
Calleigh all but doubled over laughing at Horatio's faintly-startled expression at the double-indenture.
Horatio leaned over and slowly lifted the draped tablecloth from the top of the cart and the delicious smells of homemade waffles, warm honey-based syrup, fresh whipped cream, and ripe blueberries wafted enticingly from the warm steam-trey and as he started to get up and clearly intending to gather her some breakfast, Calleigh swatted his arm gently, even playfully, and when he looked back at her questioningly, she gave him a dazzling smile.
"You lay back and let me spoil you, Handsome." she mock-scolded, waving a finger in the startled face, leaning across his body to press a kiss to his forehead, then his lips. "One second."
She reluctantly moved from his side, hurried over to the cart, and smothered a grin when he scooted over to where she had lain, making room as she sat down at his side and carefully began to slice the thick, warm stack of Belgian waffles into bite-sized slices, then carefully lifted one piece onto the lightweight metal fork and applied whipped cream and a few blueberries to them and turned back the man she loved. Secretly delighted to see his head give that faint, beloved head-tilt, Calleigh gently waved the mass under Horatio's nose and was pleased when he obligingly opened his mouth and accepted the bite, watching her with those mesmerizing, azure-blue eyes.
After a moment of enjoying the rare view of the redhead chewing the offering, she took a bite herself, simply enjoying the view.
Whoever thought watching Horatio chew and swallow could be downright erotic? The thought made her restrain what was dangerously close to a giggle.
She was pleased to feed him more, taking the occasional bite herself, just enjoying the delicious tastes - and the even more tempting view of Horatio - and enjoying the warmth of of his presence.
Even better was the light that sparkled in those vivid blue eyes.
That, and the knowledge that she was wrapped in the warmth of his love, and the truth that words weren't even needed.

Rick Stetler entered the elevator, a scowl on his face, one that the young technician moving back a bit to avoid the other man's notorious temper.
Noticing the young man's neutral expression and felt a rsw, black-red rage burned through his vision.
What happened next was completely unexpected.
The young man's body arched in agony, a silent scream marking his features as his body - simply fell apart, seeing the boy's body rot to dust in moments.
Then Rick felt a blaze of incredible ecstasy that blotted out everything else, every sense, every thought, every emotion became enhanced with raw, indescribable pleasure.
When he returned to himself he realized that (1) the elevator showed no sign of the fact a young man died there, (2) The doors were sliding open,
and (3) He was going to stop by the men's room.
The half-expected mantra grew softer, weaker as he shakily made his down the hallway.
This is wrong...this is wrong...thisiswrong... He paused, stumbling into the men's bath room.
Despite not understanding what had just happened, he realized that the ecstasy wasn't just pleasurable, it was addictive.
He felt more than powerful.
Rick Stetler felt like a god.

Michelle Gauthier headed into the main reception area of Miami's CSI Headquarters, muttering under her breath darkly in a particular irritated - and inventive - blend of English and French.
She paused a moment, gathering herself, momentarily pausing as the memory of Allen, his bright eyes and inquisitive expression, looking up at her with complete faith, and the knowledge of his death tore through her heart as if it had just happened.
Que Dieu vous bénisse, mon ami d'être là, mais bon sang, ça fait toujours mal! she thought then forced her mind to the one good thing - she would get to see her old friend, the man she secretly considered to be a brother.
She was surprised, then, to see Ian come around the corner and nod to the receptionist, then motion to her to follow him.
"I wasn't sure you'd greet me, sir." she said, in a low, melodious voice.
"One of those who wronged us - especially you, my friend - now lives in a hell of his own making." The emerald-eyed man kept his voice low, though dangerous fire smoldered under the words. "Poor justice for a such a bright soul, but justice nonetheless. Now, as you have observed, the killer prepares an attack on more innocents." A pause, as she lengthened her stride to keep up with the tall man. "Jason reminded me that you have a just claim for their life's blood, but I must warn you again, what the killer lacks in intellect he makes up for in brute strength. And let it be said, he is Vilisune."
Michelle nodded grimly. "I will bathe in his heart's blood before the night is done, my Liege. For Allen and the pain the monster inflicted." Her clear blue eyes darkened. "And for myself."
Ian rested a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Guard yourself well, Michelle. And Jason does tend to be a bit - enthusiastic." he murmured.
A faint smile of grim understanding. "I know." she clenched her left hand, then opened it, leather glove stretching over the scars there. "And at the moment, I can't feel anything but pleasure in knowing that." Michelle cocked her head to meet the emerald eyes. "He works here, oui?"
"He does."
"One joy then, Ian." she said, softly. A pause as they walked. "I am glad for you - and him - Sire." She glanced down the hallway. "And our wild friend is - here?" The faint hope in the question had Ian cover a smile.
"He is."
"I'm glad you found your son, at last." Michelle gave a lopsided smile. "Jason is probably in the vent, or gone to ground to wait."
"Doubtless."
The woman cracked her knuckles, and smiled.
"Good." was all she said.

Ryan watched Tia stir and open her eyes, blinking a few seconds, managing a smile for him. She turned her head slightly and her eyes widened when she saw Eric.
"Hi." Eric summoned a smile for the young woman, and saw her blush slightly and move a bit behind her twin.
"He-hello..." her voice was soft, as she peeked up from behind the protection of Ryan.
Eric's gaze was drawn to her eyes, a shade lighter than Ryan's hazel, bordering on gold.
Ryan spoke gently to his twin.
"Eric works with me, remember?"
Tia blinked then smiled a greeting. "Oh. Yes, your friend!' her voice was brighter. Her eyes sparkled warmly. "It's nice to finally meet you! Ummm...I'm Tia."
Eric returned the smile, and commented, "I hope you like chicken, I ordered a pretty big selection.
Tia accepted her brother's hand, and as he stood up she leaned on his shoulder, and smiled shyly at the Cuban, "I do, and Ryan likes fried things."
Ryan grinned, supporting his twin as they followed the CSI down the hallway, as he kept one hand on her shoulder.
Tia managed s tentative smile.
"it's a change from pepperoni." she managed, and both men found themselves smiling at the fragile young woman.
Eric was impressed at the humor in her voice.
This is one strong woman. he thought to himself as Ryan settled his twin at the table. With sense of humor.

Bloodsplatter drooled with eager anticipation as he skulked up the side of the building, dull eyes showing his savage glee.
First, he would gut those dear to Red, leaving their ravaged bodies for the boy to find.
Fun, watch hope in weak one's eyes die. His tongue lolled out as he reached the roof. Fun, watch him become Vilisune, inside. He gave a dark rumble, marked with vicious laughter. Then mother and Bloodspatter have burn-together, maybe make little one.
"Took ya long enough." The voice echoed as the wolf-thing's head turn. He couldn't see the speaker, but he looked toward his target - the skylight. Something sharp slammed into his neck, piercing his neck and sending a flash of agony along spine.
"Remember the boy you killed?" The male tones he expected, soft and dark. A low danger shivered along his spine as the metal not-claw twisted and a hand shoved hard, spending a ripping sensation along spine.
The male moved back, and a lighter, smaller hand gripped the wet chin, yanking back the huge head with enough force to almost cause whiplash.
"Low one suffer." He fastened his fangs on the edges of the blade, not caring that it sliced into his skin. "Weak." It was mocking.
A reverse of the twist, and he growled, fangs glinting in the shadows. "Stupid. Weak. Enjoyed watch end."
An intent pause, low voices speaking. The male tones moved back a bit, and the other twisted the blade, working it under the fur and skin.
Bloodsplatter tried to roll, to snap the weak one's paw and then go for the vulnerable throat.
He could barely move, and he felt the weak heat of the other press against his back, working the knife with slow, deadly efficiency. The female's voice was low, dangerous.
"Now run, monster. Run for your worthless existence. Just know this - no matter how far or how fast, this night you will die, drop by drop and nerve by nerve. Run, Bloodsplatter. Run, and know death follows!"
Michelle moved back a step and saw the twisted wolf-thing roll and regain his feet, Shifting then, and charged the woman, who moved easily to the side.
Jason watched the bleeding thing limp off, listing slightly to the left.
The blonde nodded, then looked after him.
"Get 'em, an' make sure ya twist when he's down." His smile was calculating. "Ya know what it takes t' kill these, right?"
Michelle met his gaze and nodded, once, sharply.
"I'll go back down an' keep an eye on CSI. Ya need me, holler."
The woman nodded once, eyes showing wordless gratitude, and dropped after her prey.
Jason grinned darkly, then dropped back into the ventilation system.
One less of 'em, and no paperwork.

TRANSLATIONS

French

Que Dieu vous bénisse, mon ami d'être là, mais bon sang, ça fait toujours mal! - Bless you, my friend for being there, but damn, it still hurts!