Ok, please be gentle as this is my first ever foray into writing fanfic. It may be a little rough around the edges but I would appreciate constructive feedback so that I can perhaps improve in some areas of my writing. Also, I'm terrible at deciding on titles and this was the best I could come up with, so if anyone has any suggestions I'd be glad to hear them :-)
Also a HUGE thanks goes out to HCrazy who encouraged me to take my muse for a spin, this one's for you buddy!
He stood alone, gazing out into the blazing Miami sunshine. Unable to say anything, he could do nothing but stare into the distance. This was not how he imagined things would have turned out; years ago it all seemed so easy, so simple: Search the scene, find the evidence, process it and put the bad guy away. How could things become so difficult, so twisted and painful that he barely recognised the man he was today?
"Pull yourself together you stupid old fool" he thought to himself as he stood outside the Miami Dade Crime Lab, a place where he had spent most of his career, in a city that he had come to love as his home, a place far away from his chequered past, a place he felt he belonged. If that was so then why did he feel such anger and disgust at the things that this great city's residents were capable of?
True, it had been a hard case for everyone; no one liked working a scene where an innocent young child had been brutally and cruelly killed for nothing more than the change in their pocket. Why then was he feeling the need to tear the head off of the next person who had the misfortune of stepping into his firing line?
"I'm ok" he thought to himself. "We all feel like this after such a tough case". Shame that he didn't actually believe the pep talk he was trying to give himself; he knew that he had changed and that he was no longer the man that his team mates and the grateful citizens of Miami depended on.
It all seemed to start on that fateful day when Randy North shot blindly at him, at first he couldn't quite believe that after so many years of walking into life and death situations and coming out with barely a scratch that he could be hurt, and badly.
"That's because you were an arrogant and egotistical idiot" he berated himself.
It was true that he had garnered something of a reputation as invincible, walking away from all manner of situations without a speck of dust on his suit or a hair out of place. Had he become so disillusioned that he began to believe the myth that his expensive suits and designer shades were some kind of suit of armour that would protect him against anything? He once again chided himself for his arrogance and folly, how funny that a man he wrote off as harmless could be driven to such lengths. It wasn't just him that got hurt that day, Randy had endangered the life of one of his CSI's and as he lay on the ground bleeding he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop this man who had been pushed too far.
"Another reason to beat yourself up, old man" he shook his head bitterly, both of his parents were devoutly Catholic and it came as no surprise that the man himself could feel guilty for just about anything, being Catholic seemed to give you a God given right to feel guilty about anything and repent over everything. "Well, you can take the boy out of the church but you can't take the church out of the boy"
As a man he wasn't as religious as his parents may have wanted him to be, maybe that had something to do with the fact that his father used his religious beliefs to punish his son and wife. George Caine believed he had this misfortune to get his 'girlfriend' pregnant and his religion would accept nothing less than him making an honest woman out of her. At first being married was something of a novelty but the years gave way to bitterness and resentment of a man weighed down by his responsibilities to his family whilst his friends went out and had fun. Soon George began to realise that his wife and young son were to blame for his unhappiness and he began to express his anger through physical beatings of them.
Horatio would never forget the sight of his father staggering through the front door, reeking of booze and radiating anger and resentment. Usually it was his mother that bore the brunt of the initial attack, when she could take no more his father would stalk into his room, leather belt in one hand, rosary in the other and exact his revenge on the innocent young child. His brother Ray was the result of a particularly brutal attack on his mother from his father and George's contempt for his youngest son was greater than that in which he held his wife and other son, both of who would suffer in order to protect Ray.
"Ray, Mother, Marisol, Jesse, Speed" he winced as he relived memories of those that he had loved and lost along the way. No matter how hard he tried to protect those around him he always failed them in the end, they paid the price for his relentless need for justice, his stubbornness and his arrogance had got them all killed, their blood was on his hands and no matter how he tried to cleanse himself he knew that he would never be free of it.
The faces of the fallen haunted his dreams, although his colleagues joked that he must live at the crime lab his real reason for being there was that he couldn't bear to return to a cold and lonely house, to be left alone with the demons in his dreams, the ones who showed him over and over again what a failure he was. Drugs and alcohol had never been Horatio's thing, instead he preferred strong coffee and long working hours as a diversion from his problems, the trouble was that work was fast becoming one of his biggest problems, his anger at suspects and lack of control of his emotions were starting to affect his ability to do his job.
He knew that his team mates had noticed the changes in him, especially since the shooting, the lines on his face became much more prominent and he could no longer hide the lack of sleep in his eyes. He had lost a lot of weight after the shooting, "Who wouldn't?" he told himself, the truth was that he was existing on little more than coffee and his own stubbornness, burning the candle at both ends was showing on him physically and he knew that those around him had noticed it.
"That's why you're hiding out here, like a coward" he told himself reproachfully, afraid that if his colleagues saw him for who he really was that they would leave him, just like everyone else in his life had. He was about to talk himself into entering the building when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"There you are Horatio, I've been looking for you everywhere"
"Great. Just great" he thought and sighed inwardly, "Looks like you've had the decision made for you, old man"
"Frank." Horatio put his sunglasses on slowly, adopted his favoured 'hands on hips' pose and looked sideways at his colleague. "What can I do for you Frank?" he asked but not wanting to know the answer.
The big Texan was about to answer his question but before he did so he did a double-take. "Wow, Man, you look like shit!" Seeing the look of annoyance on Horatio's face he at least had the decency to look a little ashamed of his tactless comment. "Uh, I'm sorry. That didn't come out right, you don't look your usual self pal, anything you want to talk about?" Frank backtracked as quickly as he could.
"Frank, thank you for your concern and your honest critique on my appearance but I'm fine thank you. Just needed to get a little fresh air, you know?" he hoped that this would be enough to get Frank off of his back and out of his hair, brooding was so much harder when one had company.
"Well, as long as you're feeling so chipper care to come and help me finish the paperwork on the case? I have a warm chair and a cup of coffee with your name on it and the sooner we can hand this case over to the district attorney the sooner we can all forget about it"
And that, in a nutshell was Horatio's problem, he couldn't forget. Images and visions haunted him not only from his life but those of the victims he helped and tried to find justice for. He gave so much of himself to his job that he knew that it was slowly eating away at him day by day, piece by piece until soon there would be nothing left. He would absorb the pain of the others and make it his own, believing that after all the death in his life that he was meant to walk alone, the pain was his penance and his cross to bear alone.
"Be right with you Frank" he smiled at his colleague but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just got a couple of things I need to do first"
"Sure Horatio, it's not like the paperwork is going anywhere" Frank glanced at him one last time and returned to the building, knowing that something was wrong but feeling hopelessly out of his depth with trying to drag it out of Horatio, this cancerous cloud of doom that hung over him, making him look like a condemned man.
The truth was that Horatio couldn't face returning to the lab, he couldn't stand to see the looks of concern or pity on their faces, why couldn't they understand that this was his life, his problems? He was their boss, they all looked to him to be the voice of reason and their rock, when the proverbial hit it he was the one they looked to for guidance and reassurance, an island of calm in a sea of chaos. This was his cross to bear and his alone, he would take the punches if it meant that those around him were spared the pain, after all it was the most important lesson that his cruel and vile father had ever taught him. "You're useless, boy! You'll always be failure, you only ever brought pain to this family. That's all you're good for!" his father spat at him in a drunken rage.
As much as he hated to admit it, maybe his father was right.