Rating: PG
Pairing: Tim/Calleigh
Spoilers: Broken post ep.
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site Checkmate (http://helsinkibaby.ahkay.net/); anywhere else, please ask.
Summary: Tim finds Calleigh in the locker room at the end of the shift.
Author's Notes: Once again, especially for Heidi…let's call it fic-in-lieu…or blame in advance, take your pick!

She looked tired; that was the first thing he noticed about her as he stood at the door of the locker room, just looking at her. She'd brushed out her long blonde hair so that it fell in a thick curtain down her back, and he'd heard her say many times that even doing that simple task, nothing more than getting the tangles out, could be enough to invigorate her, give her an extra boost. It didn't seem to have worked that way tonight though, not if the slump of her shoulders was anything to go by. From his stance, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, he could only see her profile, and that much slightly obscured by shadow, but he could imagine what she looked like; eyes troubled, brows knit together in a frown, dark shadows under her eyes.

"You look done in," he told her, not moving from his position, and she turned her head to look at him, her face lighting up in a smile that was perhaps one tenth of its usual brilliance.

"A fair observation," was the only reply, her voice saying more than the actual words, her accent thick as molasses. The more tired she was, the stronger it tended to get, and tonight it was as strong as ever he'd heard it.

"You going home?" he asked, stepping into the room, the better to see her. He knew that Horatio was still interrogating Stewart Otis and that the rest of the team had scattered to the four winds, Alexx in particular having muttered something about going home to give her kids a hug.

"Yes indeed," she breathed, rifling around in her locker for something, not looking at him. "After this case…being in that house…" Memories of the dark, dusty room, the toys, the clothes scattered around the place, the graves in the back garden, flooded his mind, and he had to swallow hard. He could see a shudder run the length of her body and knew that she was remembering the same things. "I just want to go home and scrub my brain clean." She paused for a second, before concluding wryly, "With lye."

A mirthless chuckle escaped him. "I know just what you mean," he murmured, dropping on to the bench behind her, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

"However," Calleigh continued. "Failing that, I intend to take a nice long bubble bath…"

He lifted his head from his hands at the image of her covered in nothing but bubbles, only to see that she still hadn't turned around from her locker. Her voice though, while still more Southern than he was used to hearing it, didn't seem to be as tired as it had been a second ago. Or was that just wishful thinking?

"And after that," she went on, "I have a bottle of Southern Comfort to break in to. Maybe then I'll be able to sleep."

He raised one eyebrow. "You're not much of a drinker Cal," he pointed out, knowing that she avoided alcohol, both because of her parents' experiences with it, and also because her diminutive stature meant that she had an extremely low tolerance for it anyway.

She pivoted, leaning back against her locker and grinning at him. "This much is true," she acknowledged.

"I mean, what, you'd have two glasses before you were out cold?" he asked with a teasing smirk, standing up and going over to her. "Where's the fun in that?" he continued, stopping when he was standing in front of her, putting his hands on her hips.

"I can handle more than that," she protested, her hands finding a place on his shoulders. The look on her face though, told him that she knew he wasn't that far from the truth.

"What, like three?" he teased, and she shook her head, smacking him on the shoulder.

"Stop it," she said, but she was more relaxed now, her smile more genuine, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He felt her take a deep breath in, heard her let it out in a sigh. "Sometimes I hate this job." The whispered words echoed in the empty room.

"I know." One of his hands reached up to finger her hair. "I know."

"What kind of sick…" Her voice trailed off. "They were just babies Tim…just babies."

There was nothing that he could say to that, so he just held her a little bit tighter, wishing that he could do more. "It's been a long case," he told her, knowing that it had been an emotional one as well. Somehow, it always seemed worse when there were children involved. "Let's get you home."

His hands were slowly moving up and down her back, and she didn't move a muscle. "I'm so tired," she muttered, as if he hadn't spoken. "I fell asleep in the lab last night. Horatio caught me this morning." She looked up at him then, her cheeks, which had been pale, turning pink. "Do you have any idea how mortifying that was?"

He bit back a grin, refraining from telling her that he'd seen her asleep as well, having come by the lab to see if she needed anything. Once he'd seen her like that though, head resting on her arms, dead to the world, he'd tiptoed out quietly the way he'd come. If she was tired enough to fall asleep in the middle of work, then he didn't think that he should wake her. "Home," he said firmly instead, spinning her around so that she was facing her locker again.

"Yes Sir," she agreed, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Will I be going home alone?" she teased, and he slid his arms around her waist, lacing his fingers together and closing the distance between them so that he could feel the heat of her back against his chest.

"Well, that bubble bath sounded pretty good," he murmured, planting a kiss on her neck. "Is there room for two?"

She arched her neck, granting him better access, one hand reaching down to cover his. "Maybe," she allowed. "Know someone who might be interested?"

Another kiss to her neck followed, then another before he replied, "I'm sure I can find someone…"

She turned in his arms then, meeting his lips with hers, and they lost all track of time for a long moment before she pulled away. "We probably shouldn't do this here," she whispered, and he had to admit that she had a point. They'd come too far, had hidden their relationship for too long, to let it slip now.

"You're right," he agreed, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Save it for when we get home."

Her arms around his waist, her head returned to his shoulder. "Sounds like a plan to me." She stayed where she was for a couple of seconds longer, then straightened up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, her face momentarily serious again. "What would I do without you?" she whispered.

He smiled in response. "You don't need to worry about that," he told her, reluctantly releasing her, taking a step back. "Go home," he said. "I'll follow you."

Turning away, she reached for her jacket, and he helped her with putting it on, pulling her hair from the collar gently, kissing her forehead before she left the room. He didn't take his eyes off her as she walked away from him, didn't turn to his own locker until long after the door had swung shut behind her.

He followed her to her place as promised, idly reflecting as he parked his bike out front that he was spending more nights here than he was at his own place, and using his key to let himself in. He called out her name as he hung up his jacket, grinning when her voice drifted out to him from the bathroom, and he joined her in the tub, just like he'd said he would. When the water turned lukewarm, they dried themselves off, wandering out to the living room in sweatpants and t-shirts, where they ordered takeout pizza and cuddled up on the couch, channel-hopping for all they were worth, squabbling good-naturedly over what they should watch, never settling on anything for too long. When she finally dozed off in his arms, he shut off the television, lifting her easily in his arms and carrying her to the bedroom. She woke up on the way there, ending up twining her arms around his neck, planting kisses along his jaw, and things rapidly escalated once they reached the bedroom, not that Tim minded in the slightest.

"Feeling better?" he asked her much later, as he stared down at the crown of her blonde head, pillowed on his chest. He trailed a finger lazily up and down her back, and she stretched against him, the sound she was making almost a purr of contentment.

"Much," she told him, shifting slightly so that she could look up at him and see his face. "Thank you," she said softly, one hand going up to his hair, running her fingers through it.

"Any time," he told her honestly. Then a thought occurred to him, and his lips turned up in a smile. "As long as you don't mind missing out on your Southern Comfort."

She giggled in his arms, beginning to plant kisses along his neck, a teasing glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Nah," she decided. "This is better."

Moving his head so that he could capture her lips with his, there was only one thought in Tim's mind before all thoughts vanished completely. "I know just what you mean."

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