Coming Home
Rating: T
Spoilers: S 10.01 "Countermeasures"
Warning: Heavy angst and CHARACTER DEATH
Genre: Angst/ Tragedy
A/N: with such a phenomenal season premiere, I simply could not pass up the chance…
The pain was now fading into a cold numbness, confusing visions of her and the horror of the unfurling events flashing before his eyes. The day had passed before him at a mind numbing pace, the pursuit of justice draining him of his last reserves. He couldn't let anyone else become a victim in a day so wrought with tragedy and violence. So, despite the advice of his doctor, the concern of his friends and colleagues, Horatio pressed on even though each step took him that much closer to oblivion. From one moment to the other, he suffered in quiet, feeling his energy depleting with every second that ticked by. One thought compelled him to keep one foot in front of the other, sharpening his focus to concentrate on something other than the pain that coursed through his body. Quitting was never in his vocabulary; even in the face of his greatest loss, he couldn't find it in himself to succumb, always fighting. His life was built upon his dogged determination to survive and preserver and it kept him from the precipice of destruction many times over. He would never stop, the sacrifice was always greater than the reward for him and as always, it would help him fight the battle and win. No matter the cost.
He hadn't thought about the consequences of his actions, he just moved. Jumping into the ocean in pursuit of the quickly descending car harbored no doubts. Natalia was trapped and his brain wouldn't allow him to take in consideration his own dilemma. The blurred images of her being dragged to the car and thrown into the trunk forced him to move against the current of pain. He flung himself into the churning sea, fighting against the currents of time and his own mortality. As he worked to free Natalia, he could hear his thoughts, feel the darkness coming. Amongst his thoughts he heard her voice clearly, its sound easing the pain slightly.
Come home…
As quick as it came it was gone and Horatio pushed himself further until he felt himself giving. He saw Natalia kick free of her prison and felt her arms come around him, giving him a brief respite from his pain. Breaking the surface of the water and gasping for air made him realize that he wasn't done yet. Even as the world erupted into sound and debilitating pain, he knew that his journey had yet to cease.
Having survived the trip to the hospital, a new purpose surfaced and battled with the weariness. He couldn't stop until his job was done, even though his body had immediately begun to protest. Each breath ignited a soul draining fire, each step driving him to the edge of his limits. Yet still, he trudged on, his duty to the city and its citizens propelling him into action. He couldn't find rest until the young girl was found alive and Toller back in custody. He wouldn't stop until he saw justice done.
As the day grew long, he could feel his determination waning, his strong spirit dwindling. By the time he wound his way through the landfill, his lungs burned with the effort it took to simply breathe. Even as the doubts began to cloak him heavily, he found himself pointing his gun at Toller, his hand shaking as the pain began to topple his spirit and body, gripping him completely. He had spent the rest of his energy in obtaining his goal and as he watched them lead Toller to the radio car, he felt the winds change and heard her voice once more in his mind.
Come home…
"Not yet," he gasped desperately holding on to conciousness as he laid his head down on the concrete. The faint sound of Eric's words drifted over him and he fought against the impending darkness, battling to stay in the light. His body screamed for rest, though his mind revolted, reminding him still that his duty was not finished. He had to see for himself that Toller was going back where he belonged.
By some unknown miracle, he found his way back to the lab, standing as a sentinel at the entrance to the lab. It was then, and only then that he knew that his job was done. When Agent Locklear approached quietly and asked if he were okay, he had no choice to answer truthfully.
"No, I don't think so," he admitted roughly. It felt odd to give voice to the doubts that he'd harbored his entire life. He finally admitted to himself that he'd never been okay. Years of fighting without reconciling his feelings had now left him desolate, barren. Living through so much loss and grief, he always steeled himself to continue his struggle instead of recognize his need to release himself from the binds of despair. As his heartbeat began to slow and the adrenaline dissipated, he could finally admit that he was in need. He was ready to receive the help he always dismissed.
Now as he stared at the television, his vision became blurred and the sounds became muffled, the sensation of touch leaving him. He briefly replayed the day's events in his mind, content that he did everything in his power to make things right. His sacrifice for justice had been his life, and he readily received his due. He could feel as the oppressive weight he'd carried around all these years as it lifted slowly as her voice came to him louder, clearer…
Come home…
Taking in a deep breath, he released it and smiled, feeling the warmth of her touch he so missed, even as his eyes slid shut. His body slowly conceded to the grip of death; his reward, rest.
He was going home.