A/N: I don't own CSI:Miami, CBS, or any other known entity. The title and summary come from "Trust Me" by The Fray, which I also don't own. This story came to me after watching Show Stopper. I hope you guys enjoy, and please review. :)
Trust Me, Trust Nobody
"He also killed my wife."
As soon as his words hit her ears, the only thing she can do is stare in shock. The mystery she thinks has been surrounding him has now been reduced to a mask for the pain, and before she can respond to his statement, he turns his back and walks out of the locker room. Part of her thinks she should go after him, talk to him more, but part of her thinks she should let him go and get himself together.
Her mind is torn as her body goes through the motions, opening her locker and grabbing her bag. She pauses with her hand floating near her purse, wondering if she really can just leave right now, or if she should stay and talk with him further about this. After all, he has extended the proverbial branch.
But does she take hold of it, or let it go?
He closes his eyes briefly as he stops outside the trace lab, finally done with what some might consider running away from the prospective conversation. He sighs heavily as he opens his eyes again, willing himself to tamp everything back down.
Who would've thought coming clean could make him feel so guilty?
He shakes his head, making his way down to the office he needs to visit before he leaves. The door opens, and Rick stands before him.
"I believe I owe an explanation on mileage," he says before Rick can get a word in.
Rick, surprisingly, says nothing, instead stepping out of the doorway and letting him walk in.
She's waiting for him as he opens the door of Rick's office, and he pauses briefly in the doorway prior to walking out of it. "You're in the clear," he says simply, trying to move away from her.
"What about you?" she asks.
He merely shakes his head as he pushes himself past her. "Don't worry about me."
She frowns, grabbing his arm. "We're a team."
He exhales sadly. "Regardless, you shouldn't feel like you have to cover for me or be concerned. I'm sorry I put you in that position."
"You didn't put me in any position," she insists.
He looks at her, wanting to dispute that claim, but her facial expression makes him think better of it. "Whatever you say," he concedes quietly.
His quick concession is off-putting, and she wants to make something of it, but doesn't quite know what to say. Instead, she lets go of his arm, and is mildly shocked that he doesn't walk away, considering moments ago he couldn't leave fast enough.
Both of them lean against the wall, albeit on opposite sides of the hall. To the untrained observer, it looks as though they are both waiting for someone else to come by. But under ever watchful eyes, their discomfort becomes apparent as both stare at their own shoes instead of each other.
Neither one moves, but neither one speaks, because neither one is sure of what needs to be said.
"How long?"
Her question snaps his attention away from the speck of dirt on his shoe to her concerned gaze. "How long?" he repeats, knowing what she means but not wanting to answer all the same.
"You know what I'm asking."
He nods his head off to the side as he pushes himself off the wall, and she follows suit. They walk in silence, her following his lead, as he tries to figure out the best place for this conversation.
Yet no place in the lab truly seems safe.
He leads her to the parking lot, and her curiosity piques. "Where are we going?" she asks, causing him to turn around.
The fading sunlight manages to illuminate every worried and pained line in his face, and the man standing before her suddenly seems as if he's aged fifteen years in as many seconds. "I know a place," he says casually. "You could either follow me, or you could come with me."
She narrows her eyes slightly, trying to read his mental state.
"Trust me," he maintains.
"Alright," she says. "Lead the way."
He pulls into the parking lot of Ralph's Bar and Grill, and she pulls in behind him. He climbs out of his car, waiting as she walks over. Without a word, he gestures for her to walk inside with him, holding the door for her to enter before him.
"Hey, you," Ralph greets, pulling him into a hug. "I heard about your wife… I'm so sorry we weren't able to make it out there."
"It's okay," he says, shooting the briefest of glances in her direction.
Ralph nods. "Again, man, I'm so sorry."
"Thanks."
Ralph brings up a smile as he changes the subject with, "I was glad to hear you came back for good, but why'd you wait so long to stop in here?"
He shrugs with a smile. "What's it matter? I'm here now. Ralph, this is my colleague…"
She sits in the chair he pulled out for her, watching him inquisitively as he moved around the table.
"Chivalry isn't completely dead," he says simply, sitting across from her.
She smiles slightly as she picks up her menu.
"My treat."
"I can't let you do that," she says.
"You didn't mind a few months ago," he reminds her with a teasing smile.
"A round of drinks isn't the same thing as dinner."
He shrugs. "Look, I'll let you in on a little secret. You say it's on me, it's really on Ralph."
She smirks as she shakes her head. "And why is that?"
"Ralph and I have been friends since college," he explains. "When he wanted to open this place, I gave him a little financial and promotional help."
"And in return, you get a good table and some free food," she surmises.
His only response is a smile.
As their drinks hit the table, he watches the mischievous glint grow in her expression. "What?" he preempts.
"Is this where you bring your dates?" she asks with a smile.
He closes his eyes temporarily as he shakes his head slowly. "Only girls I'm serious with. Otherwise, Ralph would have a field day."
She smiles wider at the comment.
He takes a drink, wondering which one of them it will be who brings up the elephant that started their evening at PD.
"How well did he know your wife?"
He should've figured it'd be her.
She watches as he shifts in his chair, and she wonders if maybe this is a bad idea, as he doesn't exactly seem comfortable talking about his wife.
"He knew her well enough," he answers as he stares at the drink in his hands. "He was best man at our wedding."
She nods, not sure whether or not he's going to elaborate.
"Speedle was in the wedding party too," he continues, looking up from the glass.
"I remember that," she says, smiling at the memory of their mutual friend. "He was so mad that he was going to have to wear a tux."
He laughs. "He was even more pissed when he found out the tux was a joke."
She snickers.
"My wife wanted to do a casual beach wedding," he adds. "I thought the tux was just funny."
"When did he find out?"
"Not until he got out there for the final fitting. I thought he was going to kill me."
She chuckles, shaking her head.
"Horatio thought it was funny as hell," he says, smirking.
"I remember that, now that you mention it," she says. "Eric, Megan, and I held down the fort, but they told us all the stories when they got back."
He nods. "I was sorry to hear about Megan's husband, Sean. Of course, I didn't hear about it until about three months later…"
She nods. "Yeah, Tim wasn't always the best with relaying news."
He watches as her face droops, more than likely because she's remembering Speedle's demise. "I still miss hearing from him," he confesses, letting her know she's not alone.
She gives him the tiniest glimmer of a smile before frowning. "Two years ago, some evidence came up that made us think he was still here," she admits. "Turns out, one of our lab techs stole his credit card."
His sigh comes out more like a grunt.
"Yeah, that's how we felt too."
"He or she's in jail, I presume?" he asks.
"I'm not sure where he is right now," she replies.
"Well, let me know who he is so that I don't accidentally kick the wrong guy's ass."
"I'm pretty sure Eric took care of that."
He nods. "He seems like a good man," he comments with a smirk.
"I like him," she dismisses with a sheepish grin.
He smiles. "Good."
Their food arrives, and the first few bites are in silence before curiosity wins out again. "What's her name?" she asks.
He picks at his food, and she wonders if he's ignoring her or just thinking about how to answer. "Tracy," he says softly.
"Where'd you two meet?"
"Charity benefit in L.A. We were both guests."
"What'd she do for a living?"
He clears his throat before taking a drink from his glass. "She was a doctor. Pediatrics. She, uh, she loved kids."
"You two never had any?"
"We always said, once she finished her residency." He shakes his head slowly, taking a bite of his food.
She frowns. "I'm so sorry," she whispers.
He bites his lip before nodding slightly, acknowledging that he heard her.
She reaches out and grabs his hand, and he looks up briefly. He gives her a slight smile, letting her know he's okay.
Even if it's not completely true.
"I'm sorry if I bugged you about the girl," she says softly.
He shakes his head. "It's okay," he tells her. "I'd have done the same if I were you."
She smiles, giving his hand a small squeeze before letting go.
"Speaking of which, how are things with Delko?"
She blushes slightly, and he chuckles.
"Turnabout is fair play," he says.
"I suppose," she replies, shrugging.
The End.