Many years ago, I read a piece in the Gatchaman fandom by Jane Lebak. She wrote a compelling story in which the universe as we knew it had been turned on its head - there was no Galactor, no alien invasion, just a paranoid old man and his family. I started to wonder what would happen if I applied this premise to CSI: Miami ...

This is a work of fan-fiction, written by a fan for other fans. I do not own any of these characters, although I did bend them pretty far out of shape while I was borrowing them.

If you enjoy this highly AU piece, let me know. Right now, I have one more chapter planned. :)

Ryan Caine opened the door wearing a pair of chinos and a black T-shirt emblazoned with a howling wolf. "Hey, Delko. Good to see you, man."

Eric gave him a hug with one arm since he was carrying a heavily-laden grocery sack in the other, but he still managed to tousle the boy's hair. Stepping inside the foyer of the beachfront home, he replied, "Nice to see you, too, Wolf-boy." Glancing around, he asked, "Where's H? He's going to miss his own birthday dinner."

The younger man gestured at the Cuban to follow him into the kitchen and Eric set his bag on the table. "Dad's been acting even weirder than usual. He's at some neighborhood crime watchers meeting." He handed Eric a beer and took one for himself. Popping the top, he took a swig from the bottle. "You just know he's gonna tell them his theories about this new Cuban-Russian super mob." Ryan gestured an explosion with his free hand and rolled his eyes.

Delko winced. "I thought he was over that. I knew he was upset after Marisol died, but I was sure he'd accept the coroner's report by now." Eric opened his own beer and took a sip. "Especially when Alexx looked it over." He followed Ryan from the kitchen to the living room, a hexagonal space with walls of windows overlooking the ocean. Ryan flopped down on the sofa and put his black canvas tennis shoes up on the coffee table. He ignored the exceptional scenery.

"Nope." The younger man shook his head, shaggy brown bangs waving back and forth. "He's convinced it was a mob hit."

The Cuban's dark eyes flashed. "She had stage four cancer!" He gestured at Ryan with his beer bottle before sitting beside him.

"I know." Ryan's voice was soft. "I miss her. She was good for Dad." He stared at the floor.

Eric nodded and took a deep breath. "I miss her too." He coughed over the lump in his throat and took a drink.

Ryan looked at him. "Thanks for coming over, Eric. It's nice of you to do this for Dad." He locked eyes with the Cuban until Eric felt uncomfortable and glanced away.

"I promised Marisol I would look after you guys."

Ryan nodded, and both men politely sat side by side, sipping their beers. There was a long, protracted silence until Eric ventured to speak.

"So, Wolf ... how's school?"

The younger man subconsciously rubbed his right eye. "It's ... uh ... not going so well right now. I took a semester off." He set the beer aside and folded his arms across his chest.

Eric frowned, his tone accusing. "You never said anything."

Wolf shrugged, wrapping his arms even more tightly across his body. "It's no big deal. I ... um," Ryan stopped to rub his eye again, "I just can't keep up with the reading right now. I'll make it up after the surgery."

"You're having surgery? On your eye?" Eric stood and started to pace. "Why didn't you tell me before?" His voice was a mix of anger and confusion.

Ryan jumped up. "Because of this!" He gestured at the pacing man with his hands. "I knew you'd flip out on me! I don't need that, Eric. I've got Dad to deal with. He's convinced that this Cuban-Russian gang of his caused it all to happen."

Eric set the beer on the coffee table and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, stopping to finger the unsightly scar on the back of his scalp. He shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, man."

"Eric, we've been over this like a million times. You didn't cause the accident either. It's my fault for not wearing a seatbelt."

"But I was speeding! We were late to that party and I -"

Both men jumped at the sound of the front door slamming. "Wolfie? You home? I saw Eric's car around the corner."

"Yeah, Dad, we're in here," Ryan called back.

Horatio Caine walked into the living room, carrying a slim leather folder. Despite the ongoing heat and humidity, he wore tailored dark pants with a long-sleeved white dress shirt. His only concession to the Miami sun was an expensive-looking pair of shades. He held his hand out for the Cuban to shake.

"Eric. It's good to see you." The man removed his sunglasses and graced his brother-in-law with a rare smile.

"You, too, H. How've you been? What've you been up to?"

Ryan stiffened on the sofa cushion next to Eric. "I'm going to start dinner now," the young man said as he fled the room.

Horatio sat down in Ryan's place. "Wolfie doesn't like hearing about the gang activity in our neighborhood." He tapped the file. "But I've got photos of the ringleader right here," he whispered conspiratorially.

Eric plastered a fake smile on his face and took the proffered file. Opening it revealed photographs of a man wearing a gaudy outfit with a goofy hat. Despite his desire to humor his brother-in-law, Eric found himself gaping at the redhead. "Luigi the ice cream man?"

"Exactly," Horatio replied, his voice smug.

"But he drives a-"

"Ice cream truck," Horatio interrupted. "Perfect cover. He can go into any neighborhood he wants without suspicion." He leaned in closer. "And when he kills his victims, he can put them on ice and no one's the wiser."

Eric nodded politely. "Ryan!" he hollered in a slightly strangled voice. "You need some help in there?"

"Yeah," the younger man called back.

Eric leapt up. "Sorry, H. Duty calls. Gotta get the food on before the girls get here." He practically ran into the kitchen.

Ryan frowned at him once the swinging doors to the kitchen had closed, hazel eyes flashing in annoyance. "I tried to warn you. Do not get him started."

Blinking his eyes, Eric shook his head. "Thanks, man. I had no idea he was still this bad." He lowered his voice. "What did the doctor say?"

Ryan shrugged as he opened the containers Eric had brought from home, transferring the contents to various bowls and pans for reheating. "His therapist says he's still in shock over Marisol's death. She thinks he can't accept the randomness of cancer, so he's trying to cope by inventing a enemy he can defeat." The younger man pulled two wooden spoons out of a drawer and began to stir the black bean soup with one. He handed the other spoon to Eric.

"The Cuban-Russian gang," Eric supplied as he transferred his mother's guacamole into a serving bowl and opened a bag of tortilla chips. "But, Ryan, he's never gonna get clearance to go back to work talking like that. What did Frank say?"

Ryan shrugged. "He says Dad's place on the force is waiting for him, whenever he gets the medical and psychological clearances to go back."

Eric's dark eyes flashed. "Maybe he needs a new therapist! It's been almost a year, Ryan. He's not getting any better!"

Ryan's shoulders slumped and he set the spoon down on the stove. Rubbing his right eye, he conceded, "I know, Eric." The young man's wavering voice was barely a whisper, and it soon became obvious that he was choking back tears.

Eric pulled Ryan close. "Hey, Wolfie. Shhh," he soothed. "It's gonna be okay. I promise." He stroked the young man's long hair and rubbed his shoulders as if he was a small child.

Wide, red-rimmed eyes stared back. "I'm scared, Eric. I don't have any other family but my Uncle Ron, and he's still in prison. I'm lucky Dad was willing to take me in. If I lose him, I don't know what I'll do." He sniffed unhappily.

Tanned hands grasped Ryan's shoulders. "Wolf, look at me. I'm not leaving you. You and H are family. We'll get through this." Brown eyes locked on hazel.

"Okay." Ryan ducked from under the older man's grip. He looked away from Eric and wiped his eyes with one hand. "Why'd you bring so much food for just the three of us?"

"Ah, grasshopper," Delko intoned, "you have much to learn." He smirked at Ryan.

Ryan folded his arms, raised one eyebrow, and gave the older man a skeptical look. "Seriously, man. What gives?"

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Eric yelled, giving Ryan a sidelong grin. Both men ran for the door.