Shattered Perceptions

Rick Stetler parked his car next to the metallic silver Hummer of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab that was driven by his nemesis, Horatio Caine. He stepped out of his car and locked it before walking down to where the redhead stood on the deserted beach.

"You called?" he asked as he reached the crime lab supervisor.

Horatio turned to face him and for once Rick had a twinge of sympathy for the older man. He had rarely seen the redhead look so haggard and exhausted. To him, Horatio was a shade of the man he normally dealt with.

"Nice of ya to fit me in your schedule," Horatio dryly commented. He was tired and gave up controlling his New York accent.

"What do you want?" Rick knew Horatio was originally from New York, so the appearance of the accent didn't faze him.

"I'm tired of the bullshit, Rick," Horatio said, shooting the IAB officer an annoyed look over the top of his sunglasses. "Let's cut to the chase. Ya tell me the real reason why you're busting my balls."

The accent may not have thrown him, but the vulgarity certainly did. It didn't jibe with the image of the cool, calm, collected police lieutenant who was only interested in helping others.

It must have shown on his face despite his attempts to maintain a neutral expression.

Horatio picked up on it and smirked. "I'm not a saint."

"Aren't you?"

The redhead sniffed in derision. "All too flawed I fear."

"That's not the way I hear it," Rick scoffed.

"Ya shouldn't put stock in gossip."

"You are a smug bastard."

Horatio shrugged. "You're an annoying prick."

Rick growled. He was getting tired of Horatio's hard nose routine. "You want to know why I dislike you so."

"Yeah, not that I'll lose sleep over it."

"You waltzed in and stole my promotion. I should be a Lieutenant and you a lowly Level Three CSI," Rick snarled, surprised at how bitter he still was. "My scores were better than yours."

Horatio shook his head. "Of course your scores were better than mine. I didn't want take the damn exam, but Megan insisted. Wouldn't shut up about it," he explained. He slipped off his sunglasses and placed them in his lapel pocket. "And as to the promotion, I didn't steal it. I can't help it the higher ups think you're an ass."

"Fuck you!" Rick snarled as he stepped into Horatio's personal space.

"Didn't know ya swung that way, Rick."

"So is this 'the real' Horatio Caine?"

"This is Miami, Rick," Horatio drawled. "What appears to be real isn't and what isn't real is."

Rick snorted in derision. "You couldn't give a straight answer if your life depended on it."

"Ya make twisting your tail too easy sometimes."

"Asshole!" Rick took another step in Horatio's direction. He was practically breathing in the redhead's face.

Horatio laughed. "Ya wanna take a shot at me, don't ya, Rick? Ya can almost taste it, can't ya?" he taunted the taller man. "Come on, give it your best shot."

"No," Rick replied. He stepped back and tried to regroup. He wasn't going to let the redhead goad him into doing something foolish and career damaging. "You're still on duty."

Horatio placed his hands on his hips pushing back his dark suit jacket to reveal that he didn't have his gun, id or badge clipped to his belt. "Am I?"

"What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing. I'm being deadly serious. Ya want to hit me, hit me. Take your best shot because it is the only one ya will ever get."

"Why?"

"Like I said. I'm tired of the bullshit. Hit me. Get it out of your system so we can establish a better working relationship, because there are some days I'd as soon shoot ya as look at ya."

Rick studied the redhead for a few seconds as he waged an eternal war with his conscience. His desire overcame his caution and he swung. His fist connected with Horatio's jaw and the older man landed on his ass in the shifting sand.

Horatio sat there slightly stunned. He didn't think Rick had it in him to hit him so hard. He worked his jaw and wiped blood from his split lip. "Hell of a right hook ya got there," he remarked with a dry laugh.

Rick stood over Horatio breathing hard. He was surprised that he actually knocked the lanky man off his feet.

Horatio took pity on the brunette. He held out his hand. "Help an old man up?"

Rick chuckled. "You've only got a few years on me, Horatio," he said as he pulled the redhead to his feet.

"More like a few thousand miles," Horatio quipped as brushed the sand off his pants. "Ya wanna go somewhere and have a drink?"

"Wouldn't being seen with me ruin your pristine reputation?"

"Pristine reputation?" Horatio scoffed. "My brother was a dirty cop, one of my team members got caught buying marijuana and there is a mole in my lab, so why the hell should I care about my reputation?"

"You are a piece of work."

Horatio shrugged. He fished his sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on. "Well?"

Rick shook his head. "What the hell."

The End