Title: Nightmare
Author: Aeon Cole
Rating: T (PG-13)
Genre: Slash/Angst
Fandom: CSI:Miami
Pairing: Horatio/Speed
Warning: Dark themes. Talk of child abuse.
Summary: Horatio has a nightmare.
Author's Note: I have no idea where this dark plot bunny came from. I only know it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd written it.
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The young boy sat at the table quietly as he ate his sandwich. With his pale freckled skin and shock of red hair, he was the spitting image of his father, the man who sat across from him. The boy glance up from his plate, just a fleeting glance. Even though he was only eight, he had long ago learned not to engage his father, especially when he had that bottle in front of him. Speak only when spoken to and don't stare, those were the rules. He tried his hardest to be the perfect son.
It always made him nervous to be left alone with his father, but his mother had had to go to the store to buy groceries and she had taken his little brother with her. She had promised it would only be a quick trip, maybe an hour. He picked up his sandwich and took another bite. After he swallowed he reached for his glass of milk but his hand wasn't quite big enough to get a good grip. The glass slipped from his grasp and the milk spilled all over the table, some of it landing in his father's lap. The man jumped up from his chair. He growled at the boy and clenched his fists at his sides.
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Horatio tossed in his sleep. He was covered in sweat and was beginning to mumble. He threw his head to one side and muttered, "Sorry. Please, no." His eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, breathing heavily. He threw the blanket off of himself and turned to sit at the side of his bed. His arm throbbed and he held it, gently, in his lap.
The movement and noise woke Tim, who was sleeping next to him. He opened his eyes and noticed Horatio sitting at the side of the bed. "Horatio?" he questioned. There was no response. He reached out and brushed his hand over Horatio's shoulder. He flinched. It was then that Tim realized he had had another nightmare.
It was all because of the case they had just wrapped up. They had had to arrest a fifteen-year-old boy for shooting his abusive father. The boy had come home after school one day and found his mother beaten and half dead on the floor of their apartment. The DA had decided to press charges, since the boy hadn't actually seen his father carry out the beating. The man denied that he had done it despite the family history of abuse.
The case had hit a little too close to home for Horatio and he had started having nightmares soon after he had arrested the boy. The pattern was always the same. He would wake up in a cold sweat and not be able to get back to sleep. Usually he would get up and do whatever he could to distract himself from his own thoughts and memories. The one thing that bothered Tim was that Horatio couldn't stand to be touched after one of these nightmares.
This was the third one in as many nights and Tim decided it was time to do something about it. Usually by this point Horatio would have gotten up and left the bedroom but this time he just sat there. Tim got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. Maybe Horatio was finally ready to accept some help. He sat down next to him, careful not to get too close.
Horatio sat very still. Tim noticed that his eyes looked haunted and he was cradling his left arm in his lap. "Horatio," he said softly. "What's wrong with your arm?"
At first he didn't answer. Then, so quietly Tim wasn't sure he actually heard it, he said, "It hurts."
He looked at Horatio's arm. It looked fine, not a mark on it. He held out his hand and asked, "Can I see it?" Horatio pulled his arm closer in toward his body and winced in pain. Tim looked at him for a moment before he asked, "What happened to your arm? Why does it hurt?"
Horatio turned his head slowly. With tears in his eyes he said, "He broke it. I dropped my glass. The milk spilled. He got mad." He sounded like a scared child.
Tim closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He got up, knelt down in front of Horatio, and placed his hands on his knees. Once again he flinched and tried to pull away, but this time Tim wouldn't let him.
"Horatio, listen to me. I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you," he said emphatically. Horatio calmed. Tim let out a breath. "Good," he said. "Now listen to me. You're okay and you're safe. Your arm is fine. Look at it."
Horatio looked down at his arm and wrinkled his brow. He seemed to see it properly now and flexed it. He sighed, then let his head fall forward. "Sorry," he mumbled. His voice returning to its old self.
Tim smiled gently. "Nothing to be sorry for," he said. He sat back up on the bed and pulled Horatio into a hug. He tensed slightly but didn't resist. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," Tim whispered to him.
Horatio relaxed into Tim's embrace. "I know. He just gets into my head," he tried to explain.
"I know. And I'm sorry this happens to you," Tim said as he stoked Horatio's hair.
Horatio sighed. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who's messed up."
At that moment Tim wished that the elder Caine was still alive so that he could kill him himself for what he had done to his son. He kissed Horatio's temple. "You're not messed up," he said. "Come on, let's go back to bed."
Horatio resisted. "I don't want to go back to sleep."
"I know, but you need to." He pulled at Horatio's shoulders forcing him to sit up. "Come on. I have an idea." He maneuvered them back onto the bed and pulled the blanket back over them. Horatio curled into the safety of Tim's arms. Tim began stroking Horatio's back. "You remember that picnic we went on a couple of weeks ago?" Horatio nodded. "The weather was perfect and the park was almost deserted. We spread out the blanket and laid down together in the warm sun." He continued his story in a soft, soothing voice, until he heard Horatio's breathing even out and he realized he was asleep.
Tim closed his eyes and tightened his hold on Horatio. He prayed silently that if they could just get through tonight, that maybe things would be better tomorrow.
Fin