Hi guys! :D Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed my last story, Sacrifice! I had such a great reception to fanfiction :) This one is just a oneshot, hope you enjoy :) Please review!
Kyle stormed up the steps to the front door, angrily fishing for his house keys in his pocket.
His friend had stood him up for some popular college student's party – the 'occasion of the year'. His friend was supposed to hate the guy! Or at least that's what Kyle had thought. Either way, his evening plans had been ruined.
He slammed the door behind him and threw his jacket over a nearby table, jumping when he heard a sudden smash. He froze, listening for any more noise. There was a string of muffled curses and the sound of someone shuffling around: it was coming from the kitchen.
"Dad?" Kyle called out tentatively. He frowned as he heard another curse: Horatio rarely swore. Creeping towards the kitchen, Kyle peered around the doorframe, preparing himself for a face off with some intimidating, muscly burglar – only to see Horatio standing in the middle of a heap of shattered glass, and looking quite vulnerable and confused.
"Dad, what the hell? I thought you were –" Kyle stopped as he really noticed his father state. Horatio was hardly standing; he was swaying – dangerously. The man hadn't even noticed Kyle had entered the room. His suit jacket and tie were missing, his hair dishevelled. He looked like a lost man in his own home. What disturbed Kyle the most were the crimson droplets that were falling from Horatio's hand from a large shard of glass that was imbedded in his soft palm.
"Dad? Hey, Dad?" Kyle tried to get his father's attention.
It worked. Horatio looked up, startled. "Who are you?" he asked dazedly, squinting at Kyle.
"You don't – oh… Oh…" Kyle took in the thick smog of alcohol, the several empty bottles crowded together by the sink and his father's unsteady form.
Horatio was drunk. Really drunk.
"It's okay," Kyle smiled, trying to be as reassuring as he could. He wasn't really sure what to make of the situation – he'd never really seen his father drunk, now that he thought about it. He had a sudden urge to go and find a video camera and film the whole event, but that cut needed to be taken care of. "I'm your friend."
"I can trust you?" Kyle smiled again at the usually fierce and daunting Lieutenant Caine sounding so small and doubtful.
"You can trust me," he assured.
Horatio reached out to the kitchen counter to steady himself, inadvertently pressing the shard of glass deeper into the soft skin of his palm. "Shit," he mumbled, jerking his arm back.
Kyle winced as more blood trickled from the wound. "Here, let me help you clean that up."
Without much protest from Horatio, Kyle slipped under his father's arm and gently guided the man to the bathroom. Sitting him down on the toilet seat, Kyle retrieved the small medical kit they owned from the cupboard, kneeling down next to his father.
"You don't have to do this," Horatio said suddenly. "I'm fine, really."
"You're bleeding. There is a lump of glass stuck in your hand," Kyle stated incredulously. "That needs to be taken care of."
Horatio lowered his gaze. "You're wasting your time. Why are you helping me? Why not help someone else… someone like Speed… or Marisol. Marisol…"
Kyle's face softened. His father hadn't disclosed much about either person to him. If fact it had been Eric who had told him all he knew about the loved ones that the team had lost. It had explained several of Horatio's weird little habits to Kyle.
This development in their conversation also proved to Kyle that Horatio was drunk out of his mind – he had no idea who he was speaking to and probably not even what about. Kyle doubted that he would remember this ever happened.
"It's too late to help them now," Kyle reasoned gently, taking out some padded gauze and bandages.
"I know," Horatio whispered. "But I can't help thinking what if… what if I got there sooner, or figured things out quicker, or –"
"Dad," Kyle interrupted, "you can't worry about stuff like that. You couldn't have done anything more. You're only human." He took his father's good hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "What happened is not your fault."
Horatio gave a shuddering sigh, his shoulders sagging further. "A girl… a child… died today. I couldn't save her."
"It's not your fault. You did all you could." Kyle gently but firmly took Horatio's injured hand. "Now stay still."
Kyle carefully eased the glass from his father's palm, swiftly applying a gauze pad to the wound to stem the bleeding.
"Do you know what it's like?" Horatio whispered. "To… to lose someone?"
Kyle smiled sadly. "Yeah," he replied, not taking his eyes off his father's hand. "I do."
"Then you… understand."
Kyle carefully peeled the gauze away from the deep cut, quickly binning it and replacing it with a new pad. He took the roll of bandages and wrapped them tightly around his father's hand, securing the gauze. "That should do it." He looked up and smiled at Horatio. "Good as new."
This time his father met his gaze. "You know, you remind me of someone. Someone familiar."
Kyle laughed quietly, playing along. "Really? Who?"
Horatio smiled warmly. "My son, Kyle. I'm so proud of him, you know. Do you have children?"
Kyle chuckled. "Nope, definitely not."
His father smiled, eyes distant. "I'm so lucky to have Kyle. He's… he's everything to me."
Kyle's breath hitched at his father's heartfelt admission. He'd never meant so much to anyone before – it was overwhelming. He reached out and gave Horatio's forearm a tender squeeze.
"I try so hard to be a good father to him," Horatio continued shakily. "Sometimes I don't think I'm good enough, but I love him. I really do." He clutched his injured hand to his chest.
Kyle smiled thickly as tears stung his eyes. "You're a great father," he said sincerely. "And I know that Kyle is so grateful for everything you've done. He loves you too."
"You know Kyle?" Horatio asked, surprised.
Kyle grinned at his father's obliviousness. "Sure do."
"Oh. He's great, isn't he? He's going to become a fine man. I'm sure of it. He won't let me down."
This elicited another watery smile. Kyle found Horatio's faith in him staggering. "I'm sure he won't," Kyle agreed affectionately. "Right, let's get you to bed."
Once they'd made it to Horatio's room Kyle helped him remove his shoes before letting his father get some decent rest and sleep off all that beer. Returning to the kitchen, Kyle quickly swept up all the glass. Looking at what drink still remained, he grabbed every bottle and poured it down the sink, relieved when it was all gone. Leaving all the empty bottles next to the sink – he figured he'd find some excuse for them in the morning – Kyle finally headed off to bed.
He paused outside Horatio's door, smiling on seeing that the man was sound asleep. It warmed his heart to know that his father trusted him and believed in him. Kyle couldn't understand how he used to hate his father. Horatio had always looked out for him. Tonight he repaid the favour.