Title: Easier To Run – 1/8
Author & Beta: Shadowfax27
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko -- This is M/M SLASH!! Don't like? Don't read.
Category: Angst, Drama, Major AU
Fic Rating: M – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!
Chapter Rating: T for language and some sexual reference
Spoilers: Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the "We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you" part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?
Disclaimer: Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.
Summary: AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he was fired?
A/N: My first "comeback fic" after nearly 7 months of absence and not writing anything. These are a new breed of Plot Penguins, by the way. They're called, "What if…?" Penguins, and they're curious little buggers. Indulge them, if you will. Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.
Written Entirely For: Persikay. Happy Birthday!
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Chapter 1 – Prologue: Every Wrong Move
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
Something has been taken from deep inside of me
The secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see
Wounds so deep they never show they never go away
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they've played
It wasn't always like this.
There was a time when they were just colleagues. A time not long after when they became enemies. An even shorter time afterwards when Ryan's accident involving a nail gun drew them to declare a stalemate.
They started over, then, their new "friendship" as tentative as the truce they had made, until eventually, it grew to be something more, something neither of them expected but didn't want to ignore.
There was a time when they became lovers… in every sense of the word.
But not anymore.
Now… they don't even know what they are to each other. And Eric doesn't know what to think at present, now that they've come face-to-face again – on his own unexpected behest and much to Ryan's reluctance – after four months of non-contact.
All he knows is how he feels…
"Didn't think you'd show," Eric's voice is clipped, his eyes betraying the months of turmoil their separation has brought.
"Yeah, well…" Ryan shrugs, his tone just as clipped, detached, indifferent. "I'm here now. What do you want, Delko?"
Delko.
He hasn't heard Ryan call him that since they became lovers. Even though they used to call each other by their last names at work to keep up professional appearances, alone, however, they were always on a first name basis.
He tenses up at that, his posture tightening in automatic defense as if an iron rod just poked him in the back. He grits his teeth, his jaw squaring visibly. He can feel the steam pouring out of his nose, his breath becoming heavy and labored as he senses his blood begin to boil.
Across from him, the ex-criminalist holds his ground, his face an unchanging mask of cold apathy. Only his eyes flicker from green to brown and then quickly back to green again, giving just the slightest hint of anger, of pain.
"I think you know," is the first thing out of the Cuban's mouth before he can regain composure, and he knows the other man comprehends what exactly he's talking about.
But Ryan does a good job of pretending… or so he likes to think.
"Do I?"
There's a mock innocence in the way Ryan speaks, offset by the barely visible smirk smugly outlining the corners of his lips. He's taking pleasure in the way Eric's frustrated and annoyed by his non-answer, but he doesn't want to bring himself to care. He didn't come all this way just to defend himself again. And he's not about to make it easy for the Cuban.
They stare at each other.
"I want to know why," Eric finally breaks.
The younger man snorts at that and shakes his head, a mocking chuckle proceeding from his lips.
"That's a loaded question."
"I want to know why you did it, Ryan," Eric clarifies, his voice betraying his frustration. "I want to know why you gambled on the clock to pay off a suspect," he rattles off.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Yeah? Try me!" he rejoins, challenges, stepping closer now to invade his space.
He can't resist.
He just can't.
Even after four months of not seeing the younger man, of not hearing from him, of constantly wondering how things had gotten the way they did between them, he finds that Ryan still hasn't lost his touch – he can still get under the Cuban's skin like an itch that refuses to be scratched, riling him just as naturally as mouthing off words, just as unconsciously as breathing.
Hazel eyes bear into Eric's, the cold, indifferent mask swiftly replaced by a scowl. Eric can clearly see Ryan's hands balling into quivering little fists, tightening by his sides as he now struggles to keep calm.
There was a time when Eric had reveled in seeing those fists clench…
A time when those fists would clutch desperately at the damp sheets while its owner writhed and moaned in starburst rapture underneath him.
A time when those fists would seize his shirt to press full lips down onto slim ones, gifting him with an impassioned kiss, teasing him with what was to come when they finally got off their shift.
A time when those fists would grasp firm handfuls of his hair, back arching and hips dying to thrust up as Eric took him slowly and yet hungrily into his mouth, feeling the full weight of his arousal against the flat of his tongue, tasting his absolute pleasure.
But those times have changed.
Now, he remembers that last time four months ago, right before Ryan had vanished without so much as a good-bye, leaving Miami for good without a hint of where he had gone. That was when they had had their last blowup, their last unresolved fight.
And truth be told, Eric hasn't been able to shake the memory from his mind. No matter how much time has passed between them, the pain of that fateful night still lingers, the pictures dripping down like fresh paint even now, smearing his thoughts with unanswered questions, with an endless parade of "what ifs?" and "what abouts?" and "why's?".
It was the fight that would drive Ryan away from Eric and Eric from Ryan, leaving only a jagged trail of mistrust, pain, and anger and lazy promises that will never again be spoken in hushed ardor.
It was a fight that neither one wants to relive, to remember, even though their insides are still screaming what they already know and cannot avoid: they have to.
They have to deal with it.
They must rehash it.
No matter how much it hurts.
Because they know that in the end, they can never really move on until they face each other again, until they settle the fight that both knew they can't simply run away from…
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TBC
A/N: Forgive the errors. My writing's a bit more than rusty, I know.