Author's Note: Hey there! Just a short one-shot for you to release my exam stress! Hope you enjoy it! :)

Looking down at his bloodied hands, Horatio Caine slumped onto the chair. As years passed by, he became a different man. He didn't know who he was anymore. He was supposed to be the protector. He was supposed to be the savior but that was no longer who he was. Now, he was a man with rage and angst. Beneath that calm and cool front, he was struggling to maintain it. His bravado was faltering and he was breaking. He was changing into someone he wasn't supposed to be.

Rubbing his thumb and his first two fingers against each other, he smeared the wet blood further. He never meant to change. He didn't want to change but it was hard when he had nothing to go home to; when he had no one to return to. Watching his colleagues have their own lives made him think what he did wrong that he didn't deserve what they had. He wished he had a different life. He wished he was somewhere else, living another person's life. If he could just have one day to be a normal person; to be a family man like he always imagined, he would pounce on that chance in a heartbeat. He just wanted to walk into a home and not just a house made of bricks. He just wanted to come home to a lovely wife and maybe to a beautiful baby; it didn't matter to him what the gender was.

But here he was, seated on the chair in his office, thinking about how he got himself here. His job was changing him or was it just an illusion? Was it his job or was it just him? Most people would say that change is inevitable but to change that much and be a monster was a whole different case. He hated how it felt to be a monster and it was killing him inside especially when he didn't have to think twice to pull that trigger. He watched as the bullet hit the chest and as the man fell onto the ground, lifeless. His shot was always a spot-on. They said that only you could change yourself. Was that true? Maybe he did change. Maybe he wanted it. Maybe he wished for it. Maybe he did want to kill. Maybe deep down he was the monster he chased after all his life.

He would often visit the cathedral with blood on his hands but now, he turned away from that. He couldn't remember when was the last time he stepped into one. A long time ago, he would try to confide and confess but that changed. He kept it to himself. He pushed it down as deep as he could and it was eating him alive.

They also said if you intend to change, you should into someone better but he proved them wrong. Instead of saving people and becoming a hero that people looked up to, he became one of those things he put behind bars. Ten years ago, he saved a man from falling to his death yet ten years later, for that same sin, he let another fall to his death. He became a killer. Hunting too much of criminals turned him. And even with that, his people still looked up to him. But they were fed with lies.

"What happened H?" they asked and he just replied nonchalantly, "I was too late."

Just like that, he lied to the people who trusted him the most and he was ashamed but it was too late to walk out. This was the only that kept him going; putting criminal behind bar, making the place one criminal lesser everyday but neither did anyone that he was a hunter hunting a predator. He would like to call it 'justifying the unjust'.

Walking through the lab with a somber mood, he looked around the place he called home. It was no longer the same. Not when his team a total different person. Calleigh was now a mother. Eric was helping here and there with the kids. Ryan and Natalia? They had something going on for sure. They all found each other, leaving his old self alone. Even Dr. Loman had someone.

I guess that's the reward for being a killer. Ever since the loss of his mother, he never really had a woman figure in his life. Marisol? She was brief even though his feelings ran deeper. He promised himself he wouldn't take someone else's daughter away from their father. He didn't want anymore blood on his hands.

Looking into the mirror, he gripped the basin with both hands. Tight. His blue eyes have lost their spark and shine. He gritted his teeth as anger began to consume him once again. His pupils dilated as he clenched his jaw and grinded his teeth. Perhaps all these anger wouldn't work anymore. His fellow comrade ever said that if you start feeling indifferent towards anything at all, on the job, you should walk out of that door and never look back. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was that moment that he should walk out.

He turned on the tap and placed his hands under the water. He stared at the red flowing down and into the drain. He knew how hard it was to let go of his entire life but he figured that if he didn't, he was going to lose everything. He was going lose the respect from the people he cared about and he would definitely lose the respect he had for himself. And he didn't want that. He wanted every bit of dignity and self-respect he had left. No matter how little that was. He didn't want the remaining of his life to go down the drain just like that blood on his hands.

He took a deep breath. He felt a warm stream of tears flow down his cheeks. He scoffed, as if laughing at himself for being pathetic. He formed a cup with his palms to hold water then splashed it on his face. He let the tears drip away with the water. He braved a tiny smile.

It's time to let go.

He stepped out of the locker room and looked around the dim-lit lab for the very last time. He studied it carefully, trying to memorize every corner and reliving his best memories. He smiled to himself recalling his happy moments in the lab. With his team especially. A lump formed at the back of his throat as he remembered about his team. After this, they wouldn't see him again and he wouldn't see them again. He didn't want them to question him. He didn't want to give them any answers. Not because he didn't want to but because he didn't know how to.

He would just walk out. There would be no sad goodbyes. There would be no second thoughts. It would just be him leaving behind the memories.

He unclipped his gun holster and held it in his hand, savoring the last moment with it, feeling the weight in his hand. He took it out from the holster and held it in position. He clicked the safety off then on again. He released the magazine and put it back in place. He slid the slide just to get the last feel of it. He gripped that frame tightly that the Colt was shaking slightly. He put it back into the holster. He unclipped his badge and he studied it. The shine was fading just like his eyes. The wordings on it could barely be seen. It was the most special thing he had. He ran his thumb across, feeling every dent and engravings on it. He placed both his gun and badge on the receptionist desk, knowing that it would be the very first thing they would find the next morning.

Walking to the elevator, he turned for one last look.

Don't look back. Walk away. It's over now. Time for you to let go.

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