Chapter One: A Change of Scenery

Horatio turned over on the soft yet unfamiliar mattress of the North Moose Lodge Hotel. He looked lazily over at the clock radio next to his bed. It read 5:06 am. He groaned softly and buried his head back into the pillows, trying to fall asleep. He had been up for several hours, his jet lag getting the best of him. He is used to getting up around five in the morning to get ready for his day shift at MD-PD, but this was his vacation; a vacation of mandatory time with other crime scene investigators from across the country. Every year several hundred are chosen at random and are brought to the mountains for skiing and teamwork games. Horatio was a little unsure as to why, but figuring that it couldn't hurt and was better than doing nothing, he went along with it.

Lieutenant Horatio Caine moaned again and tried to fall asleep harder. He was cold and up far too early, breakfast wouldn't even open until 7. He felt like an idiot for not bringing at least a book with him. After lying in several different positions he gave up and decided to eat up time by taking a nice long shower.

He threw the blankets off of his body, climbed out of the bed, turned on the light and stumbled over into the bathroom. The light was a bit too intense for him, he had to stand still and just blink for a little while. Finally after his eyes adjusted he turned to the mirror, his eyes falling upon his strong but pale body. He heaved a heavy sigh as he realized that his subtle Miami tan had already disappeared in the short day he had been gone. The freckles on his shoulders stood out more than he thought they usually should. He shrugged his change in appearance off, deciding that he would look even more ridiculous if the majority of his body wasn't covered in soft red hair. Horatio scratched at the stubble on his face for a few seconds before deciding to deal with it later.

The cold metal shower knob felt so strange and new to Horatio's hand. He shifted around a little, his nude body not used to the feeling of the cold mountain air. Thankfully, the water was warm and welcoming. He took a little step back before electing to sit down and let the water wash over him. He blinked the water out of his eyes as he slicked back his fiery red hair. The droplets beat down upon his chest and legs, soothing him. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

About 45 minutes later Horatio emerged from the bathroom, his body clean and his face shaven, a robe wrapped around his figure. He looked at the clock again, 6:12. Damn. Horatio bent over and dug around in his suitcase, wondering what to wear and how the hell he was going to spend the next ¾ of an hour. He dropped his robe, shuddering as a cold breeze breathed against his exposed body. He stepped into his boxers, then his nice black pants. There will be no skiing today, as today was the teamwork game day…whatever the hell that is. He stood shirtless before his suitcase wondering how many layers the weather would require him to wear. He parted the curtain slightly to take a peek outside.

The mountains were covered in beautifully white and glistening sheets of snow. The pine trees were generously dusted from last night's blizzard. Now everything was quiet, everything was still. Horatio's ocean blue eyes surveyed the land, he was breath taken by such beauty.

Turning away from the landscape, Horatio put himself to the task at hand, he was getting a little cold. Undershirt, shirt, sweater, coat; that ought to do it. He pulled on the rest of his clothes, slipped on his socks and stepped into his shoes. He pocketed his wallet and badge before snapping on his watch, he checked it. 6:30. Screw it. Snatching his room key, he stormed out of the room (which was beginning to feel more like a prison). He made his way down the halls, down the stairs, down more halls, and into the ball room, where he waited for his breakfast to be set before him.

***

The hall was remarkably large, with a roaring fireplace on one end and a buffet being carefully set up on the other. Dozens of small round tables with white table cloths littered the room, above them hanging a giant chandelier. Several grand windows opened the space out into the mountainous setting. Detective Investigator Mac Taylor wrapped his coat around him a little tighter; the fireplace creates an impressive draft. His eyes finally rested on the figure of a man with stunning red hair in a long black coat. Mac smiled to himself, he slowly and quietly approached the man.

Horatio sat slumped over in his chair, half draped across the table. Breakfast was going to be fifteen minutes late, according to the chef who reported to him. He was tired; the coffee wasn't even made up yet. To occupy the time Horatio had dug a quarter out of his pocket and began spinning it across the table over and over and over again. Each spin lulled him into what he called his "early morning stares"; which cleared his mind and kept him from yelling at the chef, demanding breakfast.

The quarter twirled slower and slower across the tablecloth, but it was caught before it could finally collapse. Mac turned the quarter over in his fingers, playing with it and teasing Horatio. Horatio let out a sad and slightly pitiful moan before he let his forehead drop onto the table. Mac chuckled and patted Horatio on the head lightly. He handed Horatio his quarter back and sat down next to him. The redhead sat up and tried to shake off his sleepiness, he give Mac a little smile before he spoke.

"I didn't know you were here too, what are the odds?"

"Slim but increasing with turn," Mac noted. Horatio nodded in agreement, too tired and hungry to reply. "You aren't much of a morning person, are you, H?" Mac asked. Horatio arched his back, letting go a few pops before settling back into his chair.

"I am after breakfast," Horatio mumbled before slumping back onto the table.

"You know, Horatio, I'm a little concerned about you", Mac said calmly. Horatio looked up inquisitively. "You always seem to be in some sort of depressed mood whenever I have seen you lately".

"I see a dead body every day", Horatio said softly as he crossed his arms on the table and buried his face into them.

"That's not it and you know it", Mac said matter-of-factly. "We all get a fair share of trauma every day but it doesn't eat into us, not after all these years. If it did none of us would be able to get any work done and every case would be an unsolved. So I ask not only as a friend, but as a fellow CSI. Now are you going to tell me what's wrong or aren't you?"

Horatio looked up into Mac's light brown eyes before laying his head back down on the table. "Get me waffles. Waffles and coffee", H grumbled. Mac cocked his eyebrow, confused, before he looked up and saw that the buffet was now open.

"If I bring you breakfast will you tell me what's wrong?" Mac asked. He looked down at Horatio, seeing his mass of red hair bob gently up and down in agreement. Mac heaved a sigh before making his way over to the buffet table.

***

"Now do you feel like telling me?" Mac sighed, slightly aggravated as he watched Horatio happily sip away at his coffee and poke at his waffles. Horatio hummed contentedly to himself before turning his eyes to Mac.

"This morning as you could see, I was tired. I am unsure as to what other occasion you refer to", Horatio stated before he took a bite of the waffle.

"Ahh, so you have been down lately. Well you may not have noticed, but we were in the lobby at the same time yesterday, although I believe you went right to your room" Mac said as he poured some cream into his coffee.

"We were?" Horatio said between bites. "I'm sorry; I mustn't have seen you then. As you could tell, my mind was distracted". Horatio dipped a forkful of waffle into a small pool of syrup on his plate before devouring it and taking another sip of coffee.

Mac watched impatiently as Horatio took his time with his food. He quickly eyed the room over before leaning in to Horatio and saying quietly, "you can tell me, H. No one else will even hear you". Horatio put down his fork, dropped his head and sighed.

"I think," Horatio whispered as he leaned in towards Mac, "that I am under investigation. And I can't figure out why, unless one of my old cases has been opened up". Horatio gently rubbed his brow in thought. "I just don't understand it".

"We all have gone above the law at one point or another," Mac started, "You can't let IAB get to you. Why did you even come to that conclusion?"

"You see, there's this one," Horatio began, but his voice trailed off for a second as he wondered where he was going to go with this. "Stetler …erm, what the hell is his first name again? Pisses me off so much I forge- Oh yeah, Rick. Rick Stetler. He's been harassing my lab for a long time, and I've been seeing him everywhere. He followed me here".

Mac sat back for a few seconds before he was able to find an explanation. "That's probably just protocol. I'm sure my IAB agent is here too".

"It's like he lives in my shadow, I can't get rid of him," Horatio hissed, anger and frustration audible in his voice. "You know, I-" Mac cut his friend off. Horatio looked around; he didn't realize that his voice was beginning to build. He buried his face in his hands and sighed heavily.

"It's okay," Mac said soothingly.

He looked up, the other CSIs had begun filing into the room and swarming the buffet. "We can talk more about it later if you would like that. In my room where we can have privacy and you won't have to worry about Stetler".

Horatio nodded in agreement as he sat back up, regaining his composure for the others.

"Now," Mac started up again lightly, "how about I go and grab a crossword and we both work at it?"

Horatio looked sadly down at his breakfast, eventually nodding again in agreement. Mac got up and patted him gently on the shoulder before seeking a newspaper kiosk in the lobby. Horatio poked apathetically at the remaining quarter of his waffle as he took another sip of coffee. The room was slowly filling up; the soft chatter was beginning to crescendo. Behind him he heard the sound of a plate crashing to the ground and shattering. Automatically he turned to observe the scene, only to once again meet his eyes with Stetler's.