COUNTERMEASURES 2

"H, for God's sake!" Eric suffered a moment of complete exasperation. Oh, he loved and admired his boss, was sometimes in awe of his ability to deal with adversity, but on occasions - and this was one such - infuriated by the man's complete denial that anything could stop him or slow him down. It was how he was. The legendary 'superman' act wasn't, he knew, an act at all. It was simply the way he operated. Something needed to be done, he'd do it. If it hurt, well, it did. If it was risky, then he'd take the risk - rather him than someone else…

Now Eric helped him to his feet and felt him stagger. He went to put an arm round him, but Horatio shrugged him off. "Don't."

Eric lowered his voice. "You're going to embarrass yourself far more if you pass out in the middle of the plaza…"

"I'm not going to pass out!" Horatio snapped. "I'm just a bit dizzy… My legs are shaky…"

"Which is a precursor to passing out," Eric snapped back at him. "Sit down."

He pulled one of the plastic chairs forward, and virtually pushed his boss into it. Whatever he said, it was only too clear to Eric that walking as far as the Hummer, some fifty yards away, was out of the question. Weak from loss of blood, no longer buoyed up by the hunt for North, the man was fading, fast. Now Eric was torn. He could fetch the car, but that meant leaving H. And where he was sitting was very public…

He straightened up, and looked round. With relief, he saw a patrolman he knew slightly, and called him over.

"Ramirez, isn't it?" He handed him a set of keys. "My Hummer's parked behind those shops. Will you bring it over here?" The patrolman glanced at Horatio, and frowned, about to ask questions. "Just do it, please."

He turned back to Horatio, and his tone softened as he saw a ghost-white face, with a dew of sweat on the forehead. "Take a few deep breaths…"

H's voice had also lost any trace of temper. "God, I'm sorry, Eric."

"No problem, boss… We'll sort it." He was thinking, 'just don't keel over in the next five minutes,' but all he said was, "Someone's fetching the car." He resisted the urge to put his hand on his boss's shoulder.

It seemed a long wait, though in fact it was only a few minutes before the Hummer was parked nearby, engine running.

"OK, H?"

"Yep. Give me your arm."

As discreetly as he could, Eric helped Horatio first to his feet, then into the passenger seat, closing the door on him. He ran round to the driver's side, got in and closed that door too. He adjusted the air-conditioning, then looked sympathetically at his passenger.

"Thought I was going to lose you there…"

"Not quite." Horatio was lying back in the seat, and looked at his junior with a hint of a smile, and a faint trace of embarrassment. "Close…"

"How do you feel? And don't say OK…"

"Terrible."

Eric raised his eyebrows. "Go on… Are you in pain?"

"Nothing I can't handle. It's not that… Just… dizzy… and nauseous…"

"Hospital then?"

"I don't think so. Maybe home."

"What about your stitches?"

Horatio pulled his shirt up, and gingerly peeled back the blood-stained dressing. There was a trickle of fresh blood, but not much. "One stitch. Not worth a hospital visit." He pressed the dressing carefully back into place. "I think I need to rest."

Eric laughed.

"What's funny?"

"That's quite an admission, from you." Then his face straightened. "I'd be much happier to see you back in hospital. You're really not well."

"I'll do, Eric. I just lost a bit of blood… Bit more than I thought, possibly."

Eric sighed. "I'm not going to argue with you. I'll take you where you want…"

"Then home." He closed his eyes.

"Don't throw up in my car, will you?"

"Promise."

He seemed better, out of public view, as Eric drove him carefully home. Once there, ignoring the inevitable protests, Eric saw him as far as his bedroom, before returning to work.

Once there, he was unsurprised to find that they were 'saving' Randy North for Horatio.

"He's in solitary," Frank announced, with some satisfaction. "Thought H would want to do the interview. Though I'd happily do it myself…"

"He'll have to stew for today. I've just taken H home. He's out on his feet."

"Hardly surprising. Skipping hospital when you've had a bullet in the guts is pretty extreme, even for him."

"I think he might have realised that."

Calleigh joined them. "So how is he?"

Eric wasn't going to say how nearly he'd had an unconscious Horatio on his hands. Instead he said, "Bit fragile. He's accepted he's got to rest."

Frank chuckled. "Good God - he must be feeling rough!" He rubbed his hands together. "Perhaps I'll go and see our Randy…"

Calleigh caught Eric's eye and shrugged.