Author's note- You came back? That makes me love you more!
Song: You're a Wolf- Sea Wolf

The Taxi
I catch a glimpse of Horatio watching me through the mirror. I probably shouldn't have snapped; hell, he was only doing his job, but the guy's voice makes the muscles in my jaw clench. Not to mention his eyebrows. And that stupid vacant, crooked smile.

"You okay, Ma'am?"

"Yes."

"You sure?" He said that last bit with a raised voice, patronising, like he wasn't half my age and a quarter of the wisdom.

"Yes"

"You look kinda pale" He was talking at me. Not with me. Enjoying the concept of a conversation. Not partaking in one. Not that I was in the condition to, myself.

"Well, so would you if you understood the importance of...of sun cream."

"Ma'am, we live in Denmark"

I couldn't be arsed to think of a witty retort. My brain was pulsating. The scotch left my throat dry.

"...And?"

'Are you drunk? It's like, two degrees outside. I've had the heating on full blast in this car for an hour. Your champagne has steam coming out of it'

"...Suit yourself, Horatio. How old are you anyway? You're like twelve."

"You should let yourself out in the sun. Soak up the Vitamin Ds. You know, that point where the sun hits the west turret of the palace. It's beautiful. You can practically ingest the rays-H-Hey!"

I pulled the little window which separates the driver portion of the taxi completely shut, muffling his voice. I relaxed back into my seat. Gargled with some mints. My eyes had the familiar concoction of the compulsion to close and the burning sensation when I complied.

In the end, I stuck on a little sleep mask to shut out the light, shook off my heels, hit the music button, and absorbed some Tchaikovsky. It was going to be a long journey.

He slammed his foot on the break and the car skidded to a halt.

"You what?"

"I said, I think I saw a ghost at the airport"

A few hours had gone by; I had sobered up enough to crave human interaction, and felt the guilt of shutting Horatio out, and so decided to converse with him my sightings at the bar.

"Again, you what?" He wiggled a stupid ugly eyebrow at me.

"You know, walking through walls. Being transparent. Floating"

His face drew a blank from what I could see from the mirror.

"...A ghost." I concluded.

He let this settle for a moment, and then decided upon;

"I think you need some coffee"

It was pitch black outside now; really late. I'd lost my watch, but judging by the bags around Horatio's eyes, it has got to be around 4AM. I'd slept a little, but not enough to shake off what I'd seen. And the drinking hadn't helped much. We pulled into a rest stop, he filled up the Chrysler and I watched from a blackened window, making out his face under the light of the car behinds headlights. He then walked out towards the station, adjusted his tie a little and went to pay for the gas.

He arrived a minute later with a cup of coffee and three different types of magazines, all with the word 'beauty' in the title. I didn't bother to take them from him. He put them down on the seat beside me.

He then leant against the car door, rubbed his nose a little, and tried to deal rationally with my profanity.

"Okay, tell me this again, calmly. What did you actually see?"

"A Ghost. Look, how many times to I have to say this?"

"Okay, what did this-" The cold got to him, he then got into the car and sat next to me. I shimmied the magazines out from underneath him before he could sit down. He used little air quotes which made me feel silly and small "-ghost- actually look like?"

I grimaced. He was freezing. Snow was spread over his shoulders and in his hair like some repulsive dandruff. Personal space was not quite his forte. Actually, I don't think anyone in the palace knew Horatio's forte. He was just too nice/persistent to be let go. I moved a little further away from him.

"Blonde hair. Horn-rimmed glasses. Suit and tie. Aura like he was holier-than-thou" I cast a flippant hand at this, trying to act nonchalant, like I wasn't acute aware of quite how increasingly preposterous I sounded to myself, and what I must sound like to him.

He pursed his lips now before he replied "Well, ma'am, don't take this the wrong way or nothing, but, it sounds a lot like your late husband"

"Don't be so absurd. He does not sound remotely like my..."

He watched me through a pair of raised eyebrows.

"...Shit"

"Shit." He agreed. "Have you tried therapy, ma'am?"

"...I'll take that coffee now"

He handed me the steaming cup. I brought it to my lips. It tasted delicious. Warmed up my insides. I hadn't realised how cold I was. The dose of caffeine was welcome and sent my mind into a frenzy, before the necessity of sleep took over, numbing it out.

It had been him. I had seen my late husband. The one that was supposed to be dead and buried.

'Take me home, Horatio. I want to go home' my voice broke on that last bit. He turned away with the awkwardness of my tears, slammed the car door shut and returned to the driver's seat.

'I'm on it, ma'am' he whispered, with his back to me.

I let the tears flow now, hot and wet, onto the double page spread of a 'Beauty-NOW!' magazine.