Sweat dripped into Ryan's eyes, but he didn't dare blink. He focused in on his target, his finger poised on the trigger of his Beretta; ready to shoot at any moment. But he couldn't; not with his mentor and boss standing in the way with a Glock at his temple.

"Mr. Wolfe, get out of here now! That's an order," Horatio barked in his most intimidating and commanding voice. Ryan was no stranger to it, but he had never been on the receiving end of it, not even when he deliberately fixed a case, or gambled with a suspect, or any of the other frequent mishaps in his career as a CSI.

"Listen to your boss little man," Memmo jeered. "We don't want this to get ugly."

"It got ugly when you escaped from prison." Again. How the hell does a prisoner escape from the same prison twice, to go on killing spree? The incompetence of Miami West Correctional Facility was unbelievable. Almost. It was run by some of Horatio's enemies, who refused to take his advice and send Memmo to a supermax facility; not when there was money to be made.

"I'll give you one last chance to get lost. Horatio and I need to handle some business."

"I don't think so Memmo. This ends here. Today. Your precious reign over the Mala Noche is over; times up. Any last words?"

"Pequeno puta!" Memmo exclaimed. It gave Ryan the opening he needed, as Memmo's gun shifted away from Horatio's temple.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots rang out and Memmo was on the ground. Horatio had slipped out of his grip only moments before; he knew exactly what Ryan was going to do. It was as if he could read Ryan's mind.

Ryan walked over to Memmo's lifeless body. He surveyed his shots; one in the right eye, one between the eyes and one directly above that one. When did his aim get so good?

"Mr. Wolfe." Horatio had touched Ryan's arm and he flinched, startled out of his own thoughts.

"Huh? H?"

"Mr. Wolfe, I need your gun." Horatio said calmly, soothingly.

"Oh, Ok." Ryan put the safety on and handed Horatio his gun.

"H! H!" They heard Eric call. He appeared over the hill with Frank and at least a dozen other uniforms.

"You got him H?" Eric said, staring down ad Memmo's dead body, which was forming a pool of blood around his head, like a red halo.

"No Eric, I didn't shoot him. Mr. Wolfe shot him."

A strange look crossed Eric's face. "What?"

"You heard me Eric. Ryan shot Memmo and he…" Horatio paused, hesitating to finish his statement. "…he saved my life."

Eric turned to face Ryan. "Wolfe?"

Ryan stood there, motionless. "Wolfe? Wolfe? You with us?" Eric waved his hand in front of Ryan. Ryan could hear Eric but his voice was muffled…so far away.

Calleigh had arrived. Her voice was far away too. She was speaking to Eric in low tones, Ryan could make out some of the words "…shock…fatal…adjust…psych…"

Ryan felt himself floating towards an ambulance, guided by a strong but gentle arm. Calleigh. Dr. Loman was in his face, shining a penlight in his eyes.

"Ryan? Can you hear me Ryan?"

Ryan nodded slowly, focusing on the doctor. He still sounded far away, even though he was standing right in front of him. Charcoal suit, blue shirt, creamy hands, with fine red hairs, Ryan raised his head, and stared into Horatio's eyes, Horatio was speaking, his lips were moving and Ryan heard the drawl of his deep voice but he couldn't make out what he was saying.

The doctor was talking back, louder, more rapidly but he couldn't understand him either. He was so tired…so, so, tired. Maybe he should take a nap, yes that sounded perfect…

He woke up in a hospital bed hook up to an IV. He was extremely thirsty. His movement stirred the other person in the room. Red hair, charcoal suit, blue shirt: Horatio.

"Mr. Wolfe," Horatio's voice was no longer far away. It was as smooth and deep as ever. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty, confused. What happened? Why am I here?"

Horatio didn't answer right away, he poured some water from a pitcher and placed a straw in the cup before handing it to Ryan, but he couldn't hold it. His hands were shaking too badly.

"Here, let me help you." Horatio put his hand over Ryan's and help the straw to his lips. Ryan drank appreciatively.

"H, why am I here? I wasn't shot was I?"

"No Mr. Wolfe, you weren't shot. You are suffering from an Acute Stress Reaction."

"Shock? Why? What happened? Wait a minute…" It all came back at once, the bright Miami sun, sweat dripping into his eyes, Horatio ordering him to leave, Memmo….

Memmo. He shot Memmo. He, Ryan Wolfe, the team screw up, shot and killed Memmo Fierro, leader of the Mala Noche. How the hell did that happen?

"You were involved in a shooting," Horatio answered.

"Yeah, I remember. Memmo had a gun to your head and I…" he tailed off again. Had he saved Horatio's life?

"Yes Mr. Wolfe, you shot him. You shot him and ended his reign of terror over Miami."

"But the Mala Noche-"

"Is in chaos. Lower ranking members will be struggling for the top spot."

"What about retaliation-"

"I don't want you to worry about that Mr. Wolfe. I want you to rest and recover."

Ryan laid back and sighed. "Ok. Are you staying here?"

"Of course I am."

" 'Kay," Ryan sighed as his eyes closed again.

Horatio heard a familiar, but unwelcome voice outside. He stepped outside and motioned for an officer to sit in the room while he dealt with his arch nemesis on the police report.

"What do you want Rick?" Horatio demanded. Why is Frank out here with him? He wondered to himself.

"I've come to check on Wolfe."

"Bull. You're going to try and harangue a statement out of him."

"No Horatio, I'm not. I am aware that he went into shock after the shooting. I was just wondering how he was feeling."

Horatio narrowed his eyes. There had to be an ulterior motive. There was always an ulterior motive with Rick.

"I repeat. What do you want?" Horatio's tone had grown sharp.

Rick was taken aback. "Horatio, Ryan risked his life and brought down the most dangerous gang member in Miami, and saved your life in the process." Horatio flinched. "I simply came to see how he was doing."

"He's recovering. He should be ready for release after 24 hours of observation. Now you can leave."

Rick sighed, not feeling like arguing with Horatio in the hospital. "Keep me updated on his condition." He nodded to Frank. "Tripp." Frank nodded.

"What was that about?" Horatio demanded after Rick left.

"Well, he left like ten messages on my cell and desk asking about Ryan. I finally called and told him he could check on him but no IA crap in the hospital."

Horatio's face was unreadable but his mind was spinning. "I see."

"How is Wolfe anyway?" Frank asked, desperate to change the subject.

"He's recovering; groggy but more aware than he was after the shooting."

"Alright, just came to check on him. Calleigh's running ballistics and the boys are working on a computer simulation of the shooting."

"Thank you Frank."

"No problem. See ya." Frank did a quick wave and left.

When he got to his car he took out a phone and dialed a number.

"So what did he say? Do you think he suspects us?"

"Nah. Just wanted to know why we were there together. Told him you were bugging the hell out of me for a statement and I went along to make sure you didn't start anything."

"Well I guess that will do. You coming by?"

"You got my beer?"

"Of course."

"Ok, see you in thirty."