A Tour of the Heart (2/?)
Title: A Tour of the Heart (2/?)
Author: SomewhereApart
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Characters: Eric/Calleigh
Rating: PG13
Summary: They say if you really want to understand someone, you have to understand where they come from.
Catching up? Chapter One
The first thing Charlotte Duquesne noticed when she pulled up to the curbside pickup at New Orleans International Airport was that her sister-in-law had lost weight. The second, that she was irritated, and the third, that she was tired. Not sleepy-tired, though. No, Calleigh looked bone-tired, the kind of soul-sucking exhaustion that doesn’t come from air travel and a night of bad news. She knew better than to think Calleigh would want her help, so she flipped the automatic lock on the doors and waited for her to toss her carry-on in the backseat, shut the door, then climb into the passenger seat.
“Watch your feet,” Charlotte instructed. “There’s a plate of Adelaide’s fried chicken on the floor.”
Calleigh didn’t respond, but she did look down, eased in around the foil-wrapped dish and stretched to tuck her purse behind her seat. “This is new,” she remarked, and Charlotte patted the Pilot’s steering wheel gently as Calleigh finished buckling in.
“Well, can you see me with a minivan?” she drawled, arching abrow and finally earning a smile.
“No, I can’t say that I can,” she replied, tugging her belt behind her shoulder then reaching for a hug that was tight and a little desperate. Charlotte didn’t question the need, responding in kind. “It’s good to see you, Char.”
“You too, babygirl.” One last squeeze and Calleigh sat back, situating herself as Charlotte pulled out into the light airport traffic. “That chicken is for you, by the way - well, us, but you look like you need it more than I do.”
Calleigh paused where she’d bent over to pick up the plate, arching a brow at Charlotte. “Oh, do I?” she asked, voice frosting just a little before she hefted the dish and peeled the foil back.
“Mmhmm. You’re lookin’ a bit on the thin side.” Tact and decorum, while staples of Southern femininity, had never been a driving force between the two of them. Politeness was well and good, but you needed a few first-rate women in your life to tell it to you straight when you were being foolish, and Calleigh and Charlotte had been serving that purpose for each other for more than a decade. No need to stop on account of impending family grief. Besides, Charlotte had been sent on a mission and this was no time to let down Kenwall Duquesne.
“Well, thanks ever so,” Calleigh muttered, tucking into the chicken regardless. She was still tense, still edgy, and Charlotte had no desire to spend a car ride with a cranky Duquesne. She’d learned better in her years with the family. Best to just have it out now.
“What’s got your panties in a pucker?” she asked, pulling onto the highway.
Calleigh glared for a second, then shook her head. “It’s a four and a half hour drive, Charlotte.”
“I know that, Calleigh D,” she told her brightly. “I just drove it.”
“For no reason,” she insisted, setting down her chicken with a huff. “There was no reason for you to drive all the way from Darnell to pick me up when I could just rent a car and drive myself.”
“It’s quarter to midnight, you haven’t driven these roads in years, and you know your daddy doesn’t like when you drive upset.” She reached over and tore a hunk out of a piece of chicken, popping it into her mouth after adding, “You’re enough of a mad woman on the road as it is - I’m surprised they’ll even let you rent a car.”
“I’m fast, not reckless.”
“Please, Calleigh,” Charlotte scoffed. “Your lead foot has a lead foot. And you’d be worryin’ about gettin’ there too late, so you’d drive even faster than normal.”
“But not fast enough that anyone should worry,” Calleigh insisted again, typical Duquesne stubbornness. “You didn’t need to spend nine hours inthe car.”
Charlotte just shrugged. “You’d do it for me.”
Calleigh must have realized the truth of the statement, because she stilled, frowned slightly, then relaxed back into her seat. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Usually am,” Charlotte smirked haughtily, earning a light chuckle from Calleigh. “Now tell me what's wrong.”
“I just told you,” Calleigh began slowly, and Charlotte could hear the slow creep of irritation in her voice again. Hitting a nerve.
“No, you didn't. Not everything.” Off Calleigh’s sigh, Charlotte added, “And in the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should let you know that your daddy requested I pick you up, on account of he got, and I quote, ‘an earful,’ when you answered the phone, and he figured if anyone could get you to spill what was bothering you in four and a half hours, it was me.”
Another sigh, this one ripe with irritation, and Charlotte couldn’t help smirking. Nothing irked Calleigh more than someone spreading her business around before she was ready. “I suppose it was too much to hope for that he’d keep his yap shut about that.”
“Well, you know how he worries about his little Lambchop.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “I do.” Another sigh, this one sadder, and when had Calleigh become such a sigher? “It's nothing. Eric and I got in a fight tonight. That’s all. Actually… I think I might have broken up with him.”
“Oh, Calleigh,” Charlotte sympathized, heart aching for her sister. She’d really been stuck on this one, all sweet and smitten when she talked about him. He was supposed to be the good guy, the long-haul guy. Losing him would be a sucker-punch to both the heart and the ego. Then, her brain caught up with the second half of Calleigh's confession. “Wait - what do you mean you ‘think you might have’ broken up with him?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” she muttered, turning her face toward the window while she continued to pick absently at her chicken.
“Calleigh Jo. This is me. Talk.”
“Charlotte…”
“Four and a half hours, Calleigh,” she reminded pointedly.
Another sigh. “Things were said; not particularly nice things. I don’t know. It was an argument.”
“Does he know you’re three states away right now?”
“No.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Typical. “You’re headin’ into grief and not only do you not bring your honey to stand by you, you don’t even tell him you’re goin’?”
“Charlotte. If I wanted another confrontation tonight, I’d go back to Miami and call Eric. Dad called two minutes after he walked out; what was I supposed to do?” Charlotte opened her mouth to tell Calleigh that she was supposed to suck it up and break the silence, however brief, but she never got the chance. “But I don’t want to talk about it. There are more important things going on. So can we just...not?”
“Fine,” Charlotte relented, reaching to steal another hunk of chicken. They’d need gas before they left New Orleans. And something with caffeine. And a toilet. Not necessarily in that order.
Silence hung in the SUV for a minute while Charlotte tried to remember where she’d seen that gas station on the way in. Just as she navigated a turn, Calleigh spoke up again. “How are my angels?”
“Oh, you mean my monsters?” Charlotte grumbled, shaking herhead. “They’re nuts right now. Can’t get enough of Grandpa Duke - probably because he insists on showing up with lollipops and ice cream cones on a regular basis. I swear, your daddy is going to be the death of me. Sugaring up those children - as if they need it.”
Calleigh’s soft laughter made Charlotte smile. That was progress, at least. “Has he been staying with you, or…?”
“No, he's been with your mama. For better or worse, y’know?”
“Except when he’s drinking.”
“Except then, yes,” Charlotte confirmed, ignoring the slight edge in Calleigh’s voice. She’d always been the daddy’s girl. “But he’s not drinking right now, just hurting. And she loves him. She always has, you know that.”
“Yeah. I just…” She sighed heavily, wearily. “I’m just afraid that if she’s his rock through this, they’ll think they should get back together and work things out, and… it'll go poorly."
Charlotte chuckled ruefully and shook her head. "Y'know, I think you are the only person I know who doesn't want their estranged parents to work things out."
Calleigh shook her head, and supplied immediately, "Tracy Miller."
"Okay, her daddy put her mama in the hospital for three weeks when she was twelve. She doesn’t count."
With a shrug, she excused herself, "You said-"
"I know what I said,” Charlotte scoffed, with a shake of her head. “And you know what I meant. Your parents didn't divorce because they didn't love each other, or because they were violent; they divorced because they couldn't live with each other."
"Exactly. So what makes them think it would work out now?"
"Nobody said they do think that,” Charlotte reminded, continuing, “But, Calleigh, people change. Your dad has changed. He hasn't had a drop to drink, and his mother is dying."
"Yet. He hasn't had a drop to drink yet,” Calleigh clarified, and Charlotte rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on the wheel. She was only slightly mollified by the weariness that crept into Calleigh’s voice as she continued, “He can’t give it up, Char. He tries, and he tries, and he always drinks again. He had a good life going in Miami. Working again, steadily, hadn’t been drinking - I think he may have even had a date a few months ago. If they try to work things out, he’ll move back here, and leave all that behind. And then he’ll get bored with his life, they’ll bicker, he’ll drink, and they'll both be heartbroken again."
"Well, its good that you're optimistic," Charlotte muttered as she changed lanes.
"Realistic," Calleigh corrected tersely.
"Look, honey, I’m not saying you're entirely wrong here, but...” She trailed off, sighed, tried to gather her thoughts into sentences that wouldn’t start an argument. “Marriage changes you. It changes your relationship with a person, even if it doesn't work out. And it's nice to have someone to come home to at the end of the day - even you know that."
She heard the short, offended laugh, and realized where the phrase had gone awry even before Calleigh spoke up. “‘Even I know that?’ What is that supposed to mean?"
"I meant you're not married, Calleigh, not that you have some kind of social defect. Jesus, you're testy tonight. Were you like this before your little tiff with your boyfriend?"
She was completely unsurprised when Calleigh shut down, her voice going carefully even, face turning toward the window again. "Okay, you know what? I think we should just drive. In silence."
That sounded like a damned fine idea, so Charlotte clipped a short, "Suit yourself, Cranky McGee," then fell silent. Calleigh’s answer had told Charlotte all she needed to know anyway; in her experience, denial generally served as its own affirmation. But she decided not to press it for now, not tonight. Later. When they’d both slept, maybe. For now, she just drove, the silence hanging in the car until she spotted the gas station sign and headed for the off-ramp. "I'm pulling off for a pee break. You wanna sit with the car or stretch your legs?"
"I peed at the airport,” Calleigh replied quietly.
"Want a Coke?"
"No."
"Valium?" Charlotte drawled, a hint of irritation in her voice, earning a quiet glare from Calleigh. "Okay, you just sit tight then.” She pulled into the gas station, killed the engine, took the keys, and reached for the door handle. “There's a pillow in the backseat if you want to nap. I'd recommend it; a bad attitude isn't really appropriate for the deathbed."
Calleigh didn't answer, but somewhere in the time it took Charlotte to fill the tank, empty her bladder, and stock up on caffeine and Twizzlers, she knocked her seat back, torqued half onto her side, and conked out.
Four hours later, Charlotte was exhausted and caffeinated to the point of jitters; Calleigh was still out like a light. They were close, though, so Charlotte reached over and shook her sister’s shoulder gently. “Calleigh.”
Nothing.
Another shake. “Calleigh.”
Still nothing.
Charlotte judged the distance to the nearest house, deemed it safe, and laid on the horn. Calleigh jerked awake, startled, and Charlotte couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk. Served her right for the attitude she’d pulled earlier in the evening.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Calleigh brought her seat up and twisted to stretch her back, grunting in discomfort. “How long?” she rasped, blinking heavily into the night-soaked landscape.
“We’ll be to Darnell in a minute. Another five to Pioneer.”
“Okay,” she murmured quietly, dropping her head to the headrest, arms crossed tightly together as if she was cold or miserable. Charlotte figured it was probably a combination of both, so she turned the A/C down a notch and held her silence.
When they pulled up to the gates of the Pioneer Fields Retirement Community, Calleigh began to fidget, and by the time they parked, she already had her seatbelt undone. Charlotte shut the car off, but was stopped from reaching for the door handle by Calleigh’s hand on her arm.
“Charlotte…” She looked back at Calleigh, found her looking contrite and a little confused. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I’m just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” she assured, settling her hand over Calleigh’s and giving it a squeeze. “Now, let’s go on in.”
Callleigh pulled back, nodding, then took a deep breath and stepped out of the car as if she was going to the gallows. Charlotte knew the feeling.
.
“The truth is so unkind,
But I'm good when I'm out of sight,
Best when I'm out of my mind.”
-- “Out of My Mind”
SHeDAISY
Author: SomewhereApart
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Characters: Eric/Calleigh
Rating: PG13
Summary: They say if you really want to understand someone, you have to understand where they come from.
Catching up? Chapter One
The first thing Charlotte Duquesne noticed when she pulled up to the curbside pickup at New Orleans International Airport was that her sister-in-law had lost weight. The second, that she was irritated, and the third, that she was tired. Not sleepy-tired, though. No, Calleigh looked bone-tired, the kind of soul-sucking exhaustion that doesn’t come from air travel and a night of bad news. She knew better than to think Calleigh would want her help, so she flipped the automatic lock on the doors and waited for her to toss her carry-on in the backseat, shut the door, then climb into the passenger seat.
“Watch your feet,” Charlotte instructed. “There’s a plate of Adelaide’s fried chicken on the floor.”
Calleigh didn’t respond, but she did look down, eased in around the foil-wrapped dish and stretched to tuck her purse behind her seat. “This is new,” she remarked, and Charlotte patted the Pilot’s steering wheel gently as Calleigh finished buckling in.
“Well, can you see me with a minivan?” she drawled, arching abrow and finally earning a smile.
“No, I can’t say that I can,” she replied, tugging her belt behind her shoulder then reaching for a hug that was tight and a little desperate. Charlotte didn’t question the need, responding in kind. “It’s good to see you, Char.”
“You too, babygirl.” One last squeeze and Calleigh sat back, situating herself as Charlotte pulled out into the light airport traffic. “That chicken is for you, by the way - well, us, but you look like you need it more than I do.”
Calleigh paused where she’d bent over to pick up the plate, arching a brow at Charlotte. “Oh, do I?” she asked, voice frosting just a little before she hefted the dish and peeled the foil back.
“Mmhmm. You’re lookin’ a bit on the thin side.” Tact and decorum, while staples of Southern femininity, had never been a driving force between the two of them. Politeness was well and good, but you needed a few first-rate women in your life to tell it to you straight when you were being foolish, and Calleigh and Charlotte had been serving that purpose for each other for more than a decade. No need to stop on account of impending family grief. Besides, Charlotte had been sent on a mission and this was no time to let down Kenwall Duquesne.
“Well, thanks ever so,” Calleigh muttered, tucking into the chicken regardless. She was still tense, still edgy, and Charlotte had no desire to spend a car ride with a cranky Duquesne. She’d learned better in her years with the family. Best to just have it out now.
“What’s got your panties in a pucker?” she asked, pulling onto the highway.
Calleigh glared for a second, then shook her head. “It’s a four and a half hour drive, Charlotte.”
“I know that, Calleigh D,” she told her brightly. “I just drove it.”
“For no reason,” she insisted, setting down her chicken with a huff. “There was no reason for you to drive all the way from Darnell to pick me up when I could just rent a car and drive myself.”
“It’s quarter to midnight, you haven’t driven these roads in years, and you know your daddy doesn’t like when you drive upset.” She reached over and tore a hunk out of a piece of chicken, popping it into her mouth after adding, “You’re enough of a mad woman on the road as it is - I’m surprised they’ll even let you rent a car.”
“I’m fast, not reckless.”
“Please, Calleigh,” Charlotte scoffed. “Your lead foot has a lead foot. And you’d be worryin’ about gettin’ there too late, so you’d drive even faster than normal.”
“But not fast enough that anyone should worry,” Calleigh insisted again, typical Duquesne stubbornness. “You didn’t need to spend nine hours inthe car.”
Charlotte just shrugged. “You’d do it for me.”
Calleigh must have realized the truth of the statement, because she stilled, frowned slightly, then relaxed back into her seat. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Usually am,” Charlotte smirked haughtily, earning a light chuckle from Calleigh. “Now tell me what's wrong.”
“I just told you,” Calleigh began slowly, and Charlotte could hear the slow creep of irritation in her voice again. Hitting a nerve.
“No, you didn't. Not everything.” Off Calleigh’s sigh, Charlotte added, “And in the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should let you know that your daddy requested I pick you up, on account of he got, and I quote, ‘an earful,’ when you answered the phone, and he figured if anyone could get you to spill what was bothering you in four and a half hours, it was me.”
Another sigh, this one ripe with irritation, and Charlotte couldn’t help smirking. Nothing irked Calleigh more than someone spreading her business around before she was ready. “I suppose it was too much to hope for that he’d keep his yap shut about that.”
“Well, you know how he worries about his little Lambchop.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “I do.” Another sigh, this one sadder, and when had Calleigh become such a sigher? “It's nothing. Eric and I got in a fight tonight. That’s all. Actually… I think I might have broken up with him.”
“Oh, Calleigh,” Charlotte sympathized, heart aching for her sister. She’d really been stuck on this one, all sweet and smitten when she talked about him. He was supposed to be the good guy, the long-haul guy. Losing him would be a sucker-punch to both the heart and the ego. Then, her brain caught up with the second half of Calleigh's confession. “Wait - what do you mean you ‘think you might have’ broken up with him?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” she muttered, turning her face toward the window while she continued to pick absently at her chicken.
“Calleigh Jo. This is me. Talk.”
“Charlotte…”
“Four and a half hours, Calleigh,” she reminded pointedly.
Another sigh. “Things were said; not particularly nice things. I don’t know. It was an argument.”
“Does he know you’re three states away right now?”
“No.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Typical. “You’re headin’ into grief and not only do you not bring your honey to stand by you, you don’t even tell him you’re goin’?”
“Charlotte. If I wanted another confrontation tonight, I’d go back to Miami and call Eric. Dad called two minutes after he walked out; what was I supposed to do?” Charlotte opened her mouth to tell Calleigh that she was supposed to suck it up and break the silence, however brief, but she never got the chance. “But I don’t want to talk about it. There are more important things going on. So can we just...not?”
“Fine,” Charlotte relented, reaching to steal another hunk of chicken. They’d need gas before they left New Orleans. And something with caffeine. And a toilet. Not necessarily in that order.
Silence hung in the SUV for a minute while Charlotte tried to remember where she’d seen that gas station on the way in. Just as she navigated a turn, Calleigh spoke up again. “How are my angels?”
“Oh, you mean my monsters?” Charlotte grumbled, shaking herhead. “They’re nuts right now. Can’t get enough of Grandpa Duke - probably because he insists on showing up with lollipops and ice cream cones on a regular basis. I swear, your daddy is going to be the death of me. Sugaring up those children - as if they need it.”
Calleigh’s soft laughter made Charlotte smile. That was progress, at least. “Has he been staying with you, or…?”
“No, he's been with your mama. For better or worse, y’know?”
“Except when he’s drinking.”
“Except then, yes,” Charlotte confirmed, ignoring the slight edge in Calleigh’s voice. She’d always been the daddy’s girl. “But he’s not drinking right now, just hurting. And she loves him. She always has, you know that.”
“Yeah. I just…” She sighed heavily, wearily. “I’m just afraid that if she’s his rock through this, they’ll think they should get back together and work things out, and… it'll go poorly."
Charlotte chuckled ruefully and shook her head. "Y'know, I think you are the only person I know who doesn't want their estranged parents to work things out."
Calleigh shook her head, and supplied immediately, "Tracy Miller."
"Okay, her daddy put her mama in the hospital for three weeks when she was twelve. She doesn’t count."
With a shrug, she excused herself, "You said-"
"I know what I said,” Charlotte scoffed, with a shake of her head. “And you know what I meant. Your parents didn't divorce because they didn't love each other, or because they were violent; they divorced because they couldn't live with each other."
"Exactly. So what makes them think it would work out now?"
"Nobody said they do think that,” Charlotte reminded, continuing, “But, Calleigh, people change. Your dad has changed. He hasn't had a drop to drink, and his mother is dying."
"Yet. He hasn't had a drop to drink yet,” Calleigh clarified, and Charlotte rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on the wheel. She was only slightly mollified by the weariness that crept into Calleigh’s voice as she continued, “He can’t give it up, Char. He tries, and he tries, and he always drinks again. He had a good life going in Miami. Working again, steadily, hadn’t been drinking - I think he may have even had a date a few months ago. If they try to work things out, he’ll move back here, and leave all that behind. And then he’ll get bored with his life, they’ll bicker, he’ll drink, and they'll both be heartbroken again."
"Well, its good that you're optimistic," Charlotte muttered as she changed lanes.
"Realistic," Calleigh corrected tersely.
"Look, honey, I’m not saying you're entirely wrong here, but...” She trailed off, sighed, tried to gather her thoughts into sentences that wouldn’t start an argument. “Marriage changes you. It changes your relationship with a person, even if it doesn't work out. And it's nice to have someone to come home to at the end of the day - even you know that."
She heard the short, offended laugh, and realized where the phrase had gone awry even before Calleigh spoke up. “‘Even I know that?’ What is that supposed to mean?"
"I meant you're not married, Calleigh, not that you have some kind of social defect. Jesus, you're testy tonight. Were you like this before your little tiff with your boyfriend?"
She was completely unsurprised when Calleigh shut down, her voice going carefully even, face turning toward the window again. "Okay, you know what? I think we should just drive. In silence."
That sounded like a damned fine idea, so Charlotte clipped a short, "Suit yourself, Cranky McGee," then fell silent. Calleigh’s answer had told Charlotte all she needed to know anyway; in her experience, denial generally served as its own affirmation. But she decided not to press it for now, not tonight. Later. When they’d both slept, maybe. For now, she just drove, the silence hanging in the car until she spotted the gas station sign and headed for the off-ramp. "I'm pulling off for a pee break. You wanna sit with the car or stretch your legs?"
"I peed at the airport,” Calleigh replied quietly.
"Want a Coke?"
"No."
"Valium?" Charlotte drawled, a hint of irritation in her voice, earning a quiet glare from Calleigh. "Okay, you just sit tight then.” She pulled into the gas station, killed the engine, took the keys, and reached for the door handle. “There's a pillow in the backseat if you want to nap. I'd recommend it; a bad attitude isn't really appropriate for the deathbed."
Calleigh didn't answer, but somewhere in the time it took Charlotte to fill the tank, empty her bladder, and stock up on caffeine and Twizzlers, she knocked her seat back, torqued half onto her side, and conked out.
Four hours later, Charlotte was exhausted and caffeinated to the point of jitters; Calleigh was still out like a light. They were close, though, so Charlotte reached over and shook her sister’s shoulder gently. “Calleigh.”
Nothing.
Another shake. “Calleigh.”
Still nothing.
Charlotte judged the distance to the nearest house, deemed it safe, and laid on the horn. Calleigh jerked awake, startled, and Charlotte couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk. Served her right for the attitude she’d pulled earlier in the evening.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Calleigh brought her seat up and twisted to stretch her back, grunting in discomfort. “How long?” she rasped, blinking heavily into the night-soaked landscape.
“We’ll be to Darnell in a minute. Another five to Pioneer.”
“Okay,” she murmured quietly, dropping her head to the headrest, arms crossed tightly together as if she was cold or miserable. Charlotte figured it was probably a combination of both, so she turned the A/C down a notch and held her silence.
When they pulled up to the gates of the Pioneer Fields Retirement Community, Calleigh began to fidget, and by the time they parked, she already had her seatbelt undone. Charlotte shut the car off, but was stopped from reaching for the door handle by Calleigh’s hand on her arm.
“Charlotte…” She looked back at Calleigh, found her looking contrite and a little confused. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I’m just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” she assured, settling her hand over Calleigh’s and giving it a squeeze. “Now, let’s go on in.”
Callleigh pulled back, nodding, then took a deep breath and stepped out of the car as if she was going to the gallows. Charlotte knew the feeling.
.
“The truth is so unkind,
But I'm good when I'm out of sight,
Best when I'm out of my mind.”
-- “Out of My Mind”
SHeDAISY