Rating: PG
Pairing: Speed/Calleigh
Spoilers: Double Cap post ep.
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo; anywhere else, please ask.
Summary: Yellow tulips were her favourite flower…she just couldn't look at them anymore
Author's Notes: Many thank yous to Heidi for sending the tapes, and to Mel, for filling in the blanks … you two rock!

She'd always loved yellow tulips, ever since she was a little girl. She didn't know what it was, maybe something about the colour, the scent, but they'd always been her favourite flower.

They were still her favourite flower. She just couldn't look at them any more.

This was a recent development, only since her father had come to live in Miami, since dragging his ass out of his favourite watering hole had become something of a hobby for her. She'd begged him and her mother not to move down here, her mother having decided that the sun would do them both good, not to mention deciding that Calleigh and her father had been estranged for too long, and that close proximity would be the best thing for them.

It hadn't worked out that way as far as Calleigh was concerned.

The first time that it had happened, she'd chalked it up to one of those things, had done the same thing the first couple of times. Then it got to be more than a once-a-week event, and she was just waiting for someone at CSI to notice that she kept dashing off to respond to mysterious phone calls, to ask her a question that she really didn't want to answer. Horatio already had, the rest couldn't be far off.

In the meantime, all she could do was sneak off to collect her father, bring him home and deposit him with her mother, and wait for the apology present to arrive. Sometimes it was jewellery, sometimes it was dinner, but more often than not, it was a bunch of yellow tulips.

She knew that tomorrow, there would be another bunch left at CSI, either to be given away to someone who might like them, or thrown into the bin, depending on her mood. It broke her heart to give them away, but she didn't want to take them home. When she was at home, she wanted to forget about her father, about her problems, and looking at those flowers would only remind her of them.

Of course, she reminded herself with a sigh, it wasn't like she could forget.

She was so tired that she could barely drag herself the couple of steps from the door of her car to her front porch, and all she could think of doing was crawling into bed, maybe sleeping until the turn of the year.

She came to a stop when she saw something lying on her front porch, right in front of the door, her breath catching in her throat when she realised what it was.

"Oh my word…" she murmured, bending down and picking up the bouquet of white roses lying there. Closing her eyes, she buried her head in the blooms, the better to enjoy their heavenly fragrance. That done, she looked at them again, checking for a card, though she knew that there wouldn't be one.

She didn't need one anyway; she knew who they were from - the only person in the world who knew that her second favourite flowers were white roses.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she called, turning around slowly, not the least bit surprised when he came out of the shadows, hands jammed in his trouser pockets, walking slowly towards her, up the steps of the porch.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Speed asked her as he walked, and she smiled at him, her first genuine smile of the evening.

"Like you'd miss this," she said fondly, and he inclined his head as if conceding the point. "I didn't see your bike out front."

He shifted on his feet awkwardly, jerking a thumb in the direction of the side gate that led to her backyard. "I put it around back," he said, somewhat guiltily. "I wanted to surprise you…I didn't think you'd mind."

Her response was instant. "Oh, I don't." She sniffed the flowers again, looking up at him curiously. "You shouldn't have done this."

Speed shrugged, his face serious. "I thought you might need cheering up." He was close enough to touch her now, and did so, reaching out a hand and laying it on her shoulder, frowning in concern. "You ok?"

She looked up at him, her shoulders rising and falling with the deep breath she took, before leaning into him, practically toppling against him. He emitted a soft grunt of surprise, but his arms went around her, his chin resting on top of her head, and she knew that he'd be holding her more tightly were it not for the flowers in her arms. Regrettable as she found that fact however, she put it to the back of her mind, closing her eyes and letting herself get lost in the sensation of being held, protected, for just a few moments.

She'd almost succeeded in forgetting the world around them when she heard him sigh, felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. "You can't keep on doing this Calleigh," he breathed, his voice gentle as she'd ever heard, but causing her hackles to rise all the same. She didn't want to have this conversation with him, not now, not again.

Pulling herself straight with difficulty, she looked up into his eyes, any irritation dissipating when she saw the concern there. "Can we not do this on the front porch?" she pleaded wearily, and the familiar Speedle half-smirk landed on his face.

"You mean you're inviting me in?"

"Don't get any ideas," she told him, smiling all the same, turning away from him to insert her key in the door. "Your prowess in the kitchen is all that interests me."

He snickered behind her. "Right," he muttered, pure amused scepticism which she didn't dignify with a comment. He followed her in though, hanging up his jacket beside hers, both of them heading for the kitchen. Once there, they worked in easy silence, Calleigh finding a vase in one of the cupboards, filling it with water and arranging the flowers. Speed meanwhile looked around her cupboards and refrigerator, moving with the confident air of one who had been here, done this, many times before, muttering under his breath with the disgruntled air of one who didn't like what he was seeing. "You've got to go shopping," he told her, but seeing as he was speaking from in front of her cooker, what looked like an omelette bubbling away merrily on the pan, she just laughed lightly.

"You found some stuff didn't you?" she asked, and he gave her a look that quietened her instantly.

"Barely." He turned back to the pan, shaking his head. "You've got to start taking better care of yourself Calleigh."

He wasn't just talking about her shopping needs, she knew, but she didn't say anything about it, choosing instead to finish off arranging her flowers, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "There," she said, half-turning to him. "All done." She didn't wait for him to reply, walking out to her living room, placing them on the table near the window. The smell of cooking was even stronger when she got back to the kitchen, and she walked over to him, standing behind him and slipping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. "The flowers are beautiful," she told him quietly. "Thank you."

She wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, but he settled for laying a hand over hers. "You're welcome," was all he said. He traced patterns on her skin for a long minute before changing the subject completely. "You want to get me some plates? These are almost ready."

She did as she was told, getting two glasses on her way, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge to share between them. There was a bottle of wine in there too, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was drink. They ate in companionable silence, punctuated by bursts of conversation about things that had happened at work that day, other assorted item of interest. What had brought Speed there that night remained unspoken, the proverbial elephant in the room with them, at least until their food was eaten and they'd retired to the living room.

Speed led the way, sinking down onto the comfortable couch with a sigh, Calleigh hesitating at first as she looked down at him, unsure of whether she should sit beside him or on one of other chairs. Her problem was soon solved though, Speed's arm going across the back of the couch as he looked up at her expectantly. When she further hesitated, he didn't say anything, just tilted his head and smiled, and that was all Calleigh needed to see from him. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down, tucking her legs underneath her, leaning against him, sighing with contentment when his arm settled on her shoulders, pulling her tighter to him. His free hand reached up, beginning to play with her hair, and she closed her eyes in bliss. "You're too good to me," she whispered, because while she'd wanted to do nothing more than crawl into bed when she got home, a surprise delivery of flowers, having a meal, however simple, cooked for her, then curling up on the couch like this was much nicer.

"It's nothing." A soft chuckled preceded his words, but once he'd spoken, she could feel him becoming more serious. "You can't go on like this," he told her then quietly, and she wouldn't, couldn't, look up at him.

"He's my father Tim," she breathed.

His response was immediate. "And look at what he's doing to you."

She didn't reply for a long time, because she didn't know what to say, had no reply in the face of the obvious truth. They'd had this conversation, or versions of it, many times over the last couple of months, and Calleigh had known that it was coming again the instant that Tim had walked past her and her father in the halls of the lab. She'd seen the vaguely questioning look that he'd sent her way, had known what he was thinking. She'd been with him in the editing bay later, and only a few terse words from her, combined with her body language, had saved them from having it out right then and there.

"I talked to him," she told him finally. "Asked him to think about cutting down. He said he was going to." Tears came into her eyes unbidden, because she'd let herself believe that it was true, that this time, he was telling the truth. "Then I got another call…" She swallowed hard, clutching a fistful of his shirt in her hands in an attempt to bring herself under control.

"It's ok…" Speed murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "It's ok…"

She shook her head, looking up at him then, and she didn't care if he thought her weak, didn't care if he saw the helplessness she felt. "It's not ok," she protested. "And it's not going to get better…he's never going to stop drinking." There was nothing Speed could say to that, and he didn't even try. "You know what really scares me though?"

He frowned. "What?"

"One day, I'm going to get a call, but it's not going to be from Dana at The Whiskey Stop. It's going to be from the hospital, or the police…and I know exactly what it's going to say…" The tears spilled over at the thought and she didn't even try to stop them. "I keep remembering him when I was little…God Tim, he was so handsome, so powerful… I thought there was nothing he couldn't do." Her breath caught on a sob. "I want my Daddy back," she told him, the words breaking any semblance of control that might have been left to her, and she began sobbing in earnest, like a broken-hearted child.

When she calmed down, the front of his shirt was soaked with her tears, and she sat up properly, rubbing her cheeks, pulling in deep breaths. His arm never left her shoulders as he sat up with her, his other hand on her forearm, his head close to hers. "I know how you feel about this," she told him quietly, looking down at the floor. "And I know why. But he's my dad." She looked up at him then, held his gaze. "He's my dad, and I'm not ready to give up on him yet."

A glimmer of a smile flitted across Speed's face and was gone. "Stubborn little thing aren't you?" he asked dryly.

"You're just figuring that out now?"

It was a moment so normal that she almost couldn't believe that it was taking place in the context of this conversation, and she knew it couldn't last, knew it was over when Tim's arm tightened on her shoulders. "I understand what you're doing Calleigh," he told her. "Why you're doing it. And I respect that, I do. I just want you to take care of you a little too. That's all." He shrugged. "And the times you can't? That's what I'm here for."

She smiled at his words, a genuine smile. "What did I do to deserve you?" she wondered aloud, her hand going to his cheek, the stubble on his chin rasping against her palm as he smiled.

"You deserve more than me," he replied, and she would have contradicted him had he not continued immediately with, "I'm just doing the best I can."

"Tim…" His name was about all that she could manage, so she settled for wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she hugged him tight, pressing another one to his lips as she pulled away. She'd intended it to be a quick kiss, but he had other ideas, strengthening his grip on her, not that she tried hard to resist. When he did let her go, he smiled at her, and she knew just what she wanted to say to her. "Will you stay tonight?"

He leaned back on the couch, pulling her with him, her head to his shoulder, his hands in her hair. "Every night you want me," was his reply, and she smiled against his chest, closing her eyes in contentment. She knew that nothing much had changed. Tomorrow, her father would send her a bouquet of her favourite flowers that she would throw in the bin. In a couple of days, she'd get another call from The Whiskey Stop, and she'd have to do this all over again. But for now, she had the scent of white roses and Tim surrounding her, and it was more than enough to let her forget.

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