Disclaimer: I own n-o-t-h-i-n-g. And yes I know I'm very late posting it. I finished this like a month and a bit ago but I totally forgot it existed. I'm posting it now though…
Guilt. Remorse. Regret. Shame. All of those are perfectly adequate words to describe how Ryan Wolfe SHOULD feel right now. But he doesn't feel any of those things. He feels something that could better be described as empty. All the things he's endured since becoming a CSI are catching up with him. And for once he isn't sure if he can keep shoving his skeletons farther back into the closest and pretend their not there.
He's jealous of the people he sees walking through downtown Miami. He doesn't know them, not their names, what they do, how they're feeling. But it seems like they have it so much easier than him. They've probably never struggled with that nagging feeling in their gut that they don't belong. That if they simply vanished right now, no one would notice that they were gone. No matter what these strangers were going through it had to be easier than what he had to deal with.
Long walks are supposed to clear your head, bring you to a pleasant conclusion and make the world seem like a better place. Or maybe that's just in movies. Because the farther Ryan walks from the Miami-Dade Crime Lab the more he realises that he's not going to end up with a happy conclusion. Things might be clearer, and more obvious but definitely not happier. This isn't a walk that will lead to something better but perhaps a conclusion that will one day lead to a something better. Maybe.
But that day probably won't ever come. There are too many skeletons in Ryan Wolfe's closest for him to deal with. And it seems like everyday more are slowly filling that closet to the brim. Eventually though he won't be able to hide anymore. He's been hiding from his ghosts ever since he could remember. Life just seemed easier that way. Maybe if he had learnt to deal with those demons head on he wouldn't be here today. And maybe that would be a good thing. Because being the loner, the outsider, the outcast whatever you wanted to call it, had been something Ryan had become far too good at.
Except maybe it was a good thing. Maybe. But who was he kidding? No one but himself. Being the loner hadn't got him anywhere. Except for the Miami Dade crime Lab. And that most certainly wasn't a good place. He might be part of the team, technically but he most certainly wasn't included. At first it had been easy to pretend that it was because they didn't know him. But now he couldn't deny, after more than four years, that he most certainly didn't belong. He was just there and when he wasn't any more it that would be ok.
He'd considered leaving more times than he could count. But as good for him as it would have been, it wasn't the right thing. It wasn't his time. He was still making a difference. And when that stopped, then he would leave. He tried to push the thoughts of what he done today out his mind. But that little voice, in the back of his skull, the one that had plagued (hopefully) every human being since the dawn of time kept reminding him exactly, every detail, of what he had done today. And he couldn't tell that little voice it was wrong because it wasn't. It was right. He had helped the bad guys win. Something he'd never wanted to do. Something he hadn't meant to do.
But he had to. He would have willingly let himself die to stop them, but he couldn't let them kill Billy. Even if Billy wasn't his own son, even if he didn't need to concern himself, he had to. He couldn't just stand by and let them get away with that. He couldn't let the bad guys win. Even if by trying to stop them from winning, he might have helped them. And even if it had pushed him farther away from the team. That hadn't really mattered though. It had been a long time since he had tried to belong there.
He had succeeded though. Billy was safe and the Russian Mob hadn't won. They were still out there and still dangerous but at least they'd lost this fight. But like always that little voice in his head had to remind him of the consequences of his actions. They were going to be determined to get revenge now. And where would they start? Most likely with him. And Horatio. And Billy. It didn't matter so much that they were after him. Or Horatio. Horatio was more than capable of taking care of himself. And so was he. It was only Billy he had to be worried about. Even though Billy wasn't his son, not something he should concern himself with. It didn't matter. He still cared.
The sun was setting now. The sky was turning a light purple and the people seemed to be exiting the streets in favour of the clubs. He was tempted to follow them and forget everything but he'd spent too many nights doing that lately. It didn't really matter any more though. Nothing really did. Nothing ever had really mattered much in Ryan Wolfe's life.
I'll spare you the usual pleading for reviews and I won't resort to bribery either. Because seriously if I offer you cookies you know you won't get them. Even if I mailed them they'd be all gross and mouldy by the time you got them. So review or I'll send H on you. Seriously. He does my biding. Where do you think he gets the money to buy Kyle his own house?