Laila was jolted to wakefulness by a sudden noise, almost a groan of pain. She turned over, feeling for Horatio. He was there, his chest warm and solid beneath her hand. The groan came again, vibrating under her palm. She could see a little with the moonlight coming in though the window. Horatio felt warm, healthy, but there was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, and he twitched under her hand.
"Speed." He groaned, and Laila could make out his eyes flickering under his eyelids. "Speed. Should be me." Laila felt her heart tighten, reaching her fingers up to gently brush his hair. He had told her about Tim Speedle, about how he had been an amazing man and an even closer friend. And then he had been shot, dying in Horatio's arms.
"Don't say that." She whispered. "I couldn't handle it if you were gone." She shifted herself around, so that she could encircle her arms around his head, pressing him to her. There was no way she could sleep if he was like this. If he was remembering the past, then so would she.
Maria had been her first friend in Miami. She had shown her around the campus, taken her to the football games, and had basically been the reason she had been able to make it through her freshman year. When she got back from Iowa the next year they had quickly set up their weekly girl date. Every Tuesday they'd get Chinese food from a place down the block and watch a movie. It was fun, well, it had been fun. It had all come crashing down in flames one Tuesday night.
She'd arrived back from her job, assisting a professor with his research, and had gone to her room to shower and get ready. Afterwards she had sat around for about half an hour, waiting for Maria to come over. She'd gone over to Maria's door, which was always open. Her deadbolt held the door open, all she had to do was push. She walked in, calling out. But Maria hadn't responded. And then she had seen the blood, a whole pool of it dripping off of the bed.
That was what she had told the officer when the police had arrived. She had run screaming out of the dorm after checking to see if Maria had a pulse. The front desk had called the cops after she had arrived there covered in blood. Then they'd had questions, and she tried to answer as many as she could but she couldn't remember a lot. They had released her to go to her dorm room, telling her that she couldn't leave. She'd just begun to wash the blood off her hands when she heard her door open and close.
"Miss Collins?" A male voice asked, making his way towards the bathroom.
"I'm here." She said, drying her hands and walking out. The man standing there was handsome, at least to her eye. He had bright blue eyes, a crop of red hair, and a small smile on his face. His khaki uniform reassured her a little, but she still felt empty inside.
"Miss Collins, my name is Horatio Caine. I just want to ask you a few questions, see if you can remember anything else." He said, "Do you mind if I sit?" He gestured towards the small chair she had, and she sat on the edge of her bed.
"No Mr. Caine." She shook her head, watching as he eased himself down.
"Call me Horatio."
"Then call me Laila." She responded.
"Alright, Laila. Now, you said that Maria always kept her door open. Why?" Horatio had pulled out a small notepad and pen, poised to record what she said.
"Maria," She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "She wanted people to come in and talk to her. She was always popular, always nice. Why would anyone want to do that? Why would he do that?" She put her head down into her hands, feeling a sob rise in her throat.
"Because sometimes, people just do." Horatio looked her in the eye. "But we will find him." He sounded so convinced, Laila couldn't see any other outcome to the situation. Horatio asked her more questions after that, and before he had gone he had given her a card. "If you ever need to talk, call me. I can make time."
She had called him a few days later.
All she had been able to think about was Maria. The University had given her the rest of the week off from school, time to grieve and clear her head. But all it had done was cloud her mind, made her paranoid that every time she heard some person walking by in the hallway they were going to bust down her door and stab her. She had barely been able to sleep, tossing and turning every night. It had been Hell, so she had called him and asked him to meet at a beach, on a bench by the shore. He arrived a couple minutes after her, parking his squad car on the curb.
"I need to talk." She had said, sitting with her arms wrapped around her.
"Go ahead." He replied. He was sitting next to her, looking out at the ocean. And she had, she told him how great Maria was, how she had been going mad ever since. About how she was afraid to leave her room at night, or go out with some other friends. And he had listened. He didn't think she was crazy or that she was over-thinking everything. When she had finished, he finally spoke.
"Sometimes, when we love people we love, it's hard to look at life. It's hard to look down the road and think about everything we could have done with them if things had worked out differently." He looked over at her. "So, sometimes it's best to take life day by day. I'm not saying you should forget Maria, but don't let your loss consume your life. Because then, it almost isn't worth living." With that his shoulder radio had gone off and he had left.
He had been right, and she had taken his advice to heart. It had been hard, but once her classes had started up again she found it easier. Some nights, some nights she would sill sit up and sob softly. One day, on her way back from her Psychology class Horatio had called to say that they had found the guy. About a week later she had used her dorm's kitchen to make a batch of cookies. She had gone to the police station, asking after Officer Caine. They said he had been transferred, up to New York. She had left the cookies for the entire department. On her bike ride back to campus she had cursed herself a dozen times over. Every time she thought she had found a nice guy she wound up in the dirt.
But you found him, or he found you. She felt Horatio's groan again, but it was fainter. Soon enough he was sleeping peacefully again, and she felt herself drift off. Maria, I miss you. I think I always will, losing a friend is hard like that. I hope though, from where you're looking down at me, you're happy. For me, she looked down at Horatio and him.