Title: Easier To Run – 2/8
Author & Beta: Shadowfax27
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko
Category: Angst, Drama, Major AU
Fic Rating: M – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!
Chapter Rating: T for language and violence
Spoilers: Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the "We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you" part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?
Disclaimer: Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.
Summary: AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?
A/N: Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.
Written Entirely For: Persikay
--
Chapter 2 – Tearing Me Down
(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)
(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)
But those times have changed.
Now, he remembers that last time four months ago, right before Ryan had vanished without so much as a good-bye, leaving Miami for good without a hint of where he had gone. That was when they had had their last blowup, their last unresolved fight.
And truth be told, Eric hasn't been able to shake the memory from his mind. No matter how much time has passed between them, the pain of that fateful night still lingers, the pictures dripping down like fresh paint even now, smearing his thoughts with unanswered questions, with an endless parade of "what ifs?" and "what abouts?" and "why's?".
It was the fight that would drive Ryan away from Eric and Eric from Ryan, leaving only a jagged trail of mistrust, pain, and anger and lazy promises that will never again be spoken in hushed ardor.
It was a fight that neither one wants to relive, to remember, even though their insides are still screaming what they already know and cannot avoid: they have to.
They have to deal with it.
They must rehash it.
No matter how much it hurts.
Because they know that in the end, they can never really move on until they face each other again, until they settle the fight that both knew they can't simply run away from…
--
Four months earlier…
They were in Ryan's apartment, standing in the narrow hallway separating the living room from the dining room. Eric had actually rushed out to meet Ryan as soon as his shift ended, the hot Miami sun having just begun to kiss the edge of the glittering waters as he not-so-patiently fought his way through the rush-hour traffic.
When he finally reached the complex, he parked his car haphazardly into an empty space, his heart pounding too hard as he took the stairs up to the fourth floor three steps at a time, before banging on his lover's door.
It didn't take long for Ryan to answer, and Eric didn't waste any time with pleasantries.
"What the hell happened?!" he asked, nearly breathless as he spilled into the apartment.
"Well, 'hello' to you too," Ryan muttered.
Eric was about to spout off a none-too-pleasant comeback when he turned around and caught Ryan's disheveled appearance. He could tell that Ryan had been lying in bed, possibly turning fitfully, unable to quiet his mind, unable to get fully rested. He looked tired, even drained. His eyes were slightly red, but he couldn't tell if tears had caused them or if they were the result of tired ruminations of a troubled mind.
Nonetheless, the anguish flickering through those hazel greens were enough to soften him, if only for the time being. He reached out, trying to ascertain things from his lover's perspective, impatient to make sense out of the unthinkable.
He'd heard about what happened back at the lab. Horatio had actually called him into his office after he'd closed his last case, and he'd spoken to him behind closed doors. He never could've anticipated or imagined what he would hear from him next.
And that was why he was there… to talk to Ryan, to try to make sense out of everything.
That was the plan.
But things didn't always work out that easily. Things weren't always so clear-cut. Not between them, anyway. And that night didn't unravel as simply as he had hoped. In fact, the tension merely escalated, tightening to point where it was becoming quite a strain to breathe in the same room. It had gotten so thick that it was beginning to suffocate them. Consequently, it didn't take long before their conversation-turned-argument began to deteriorate even more.
And soon enough, Ryan had begun to stonewall, his defenses fully up and on high alert, determined to protect himself, to shut himself off from any more negativity, any more questions and criticisms and finger-pointing aimed his way. He had been so hurt and defensive, fuming and trembling with frustration beneath the surface.
But Eric wouldn't let up.
Didn't.
He wouldn't let Ryan off the hook, wouldn't allow him to sidestep his questions any longer. And all the while, he didn't want to believe what he'd been told. He refused to accept the answers he'd been given.
He had been so very angry, so overwhelmingly confused and feeling strangely and inexplicably betrayed for reasons that weren't even clear to himself. He had pushed and prodded for answers until he grew irritatingly tired and, inevitably, provoked Ryan so far out of the limits of his patience that he unexpectedly found himself hard-pressed against a flat surface, sandwiched between a frighteningly livid Wolfe and the simple wall bordering his living room.
That was the first time he'd feared that those same fists were going to strike and paint his face black and blue and purple and…
Red.
That was the only thing Ryan was seeing when his furious hands reached up to seize the taller man, holding him in place, his breath pouring out in hot, trembling mouthfuls as his face twisted up into a vicious snarl.
Eric would swear later on that he'd never seen Ryan Wolfe so devilishly angry before, so aggressively incensed and outraged.
Not until that night…
"That's ENOUGH!" Ryan exploded, his eyes gleaming with rage, with something nearly akin to murder. "Leave it alone, Delko! Just back off!"
He was trembling so powerfully and breathing so hard that Eric found himself fearing the younger man for a sliver of a moment before his own temper flared up inside him, spewing hot like lava, uncontrolled. And before Ryan could react, Eric got a hold of his shirt and retaliated, pushing him back and ramming him onto the adjacent wall just as hard.
If Ryan was winded, he didn't bother to show it. Instead, he only tightened his grip on Eric's shirt, adrenalin and a purely 'fight or flight' instinct taking over his whole being. And with a Herculean strength that surprised even the taller man, he shoved with all the anger that was fueling his body at the moment and slammed the Cuban back onto the opposing wall.
Then, as if on autopilot, his arm drew back, his left fist tightening, pulling back to deliver a blow.
At that moment, everything seemed to unravel in that proverbial slow motion. Eric's eyes could only widen in shock as he saw the fist coming straight towards him, rearing to put a dent on his face. He held his breath and braced himself, his body automatically tensing in anticipation of the hit. He turned his head just a little and closed his eyes, fearing the worst, and then…
Nothing…
No blow.
No pain.
No sound of knuckles connecting with flesh.
Not even blood.
Just… silence.
Thick. Almost defeaning.
He dared to open his eyes slowly, only to discover Ryan's fist just inches from his face, still just as tight and in its wound up position, but now seemingly suspended in mid-air, unable to follow through with the hit.
The younger man was still breathing hard, the greens of his eyes angry and blazing like red-hot coals. Eric could hear him panting through his nose, his chest and shoulders heaving, trembling visibly.
He dared to speak, to turn his head, to fight back.
Something…
Anything…
But nothing moved.
His body wouldn't cooperate; all he could do was stand there and stare.
"Get out!" Ryan hissed through gritted teeth before letting the taller man go.
Eric watched him take a few steps back before turning away, raking his fingers through his hair in evident and barely contained agitation. Only then did Eric unglue himself from the wall.
"Ryan…"
"I said get out!" Ryan's tone was more forceful now, not quite reaching a yell, and there's a menacing glint in his eyes.
He was tired of fighting, tired of being blamed, of getting torn down piece by infuriating piece without the chance to be understood, no matter how hard he tried to explain things from his point of view. Sure he knew that what he did was extremely risky, foolish even. He fully expected that his actions might have some serious and possibly grave ramifications one way or another.
But what he didn't expect was to lose his job over it altogether. Never in his most horrific of nightmares could he have foreseen being so callously dismissed and in such a cutting, humiliating manner.
What's more, he didn't expect to have the people he respected and cared about turn his back on him either, especially when he was only trying to protect their integrity, their credibility, of all things. And he certainly didn't expect Eric to come barging into his home that same night, only to carry out a winless argument with him over it.
He didn't expect the Cuban to make him feel like he hadn't a single ally, not one friend left to stick by his side, fighting for him instead of fighting against him.
"No," Eric shot back, defiant.
Ryan turned an incredulous look on him, brows furrowing.
"What did you say?"
"I said no," Eric answered, a little stronger this time as he took a bold step closer.
And not one to back down, Ryan did the same.
"Don't push me, Eric," his tone held a warning. "Leave now, or I'll…"
"Or you'll what?" Eric cut him off like an obstinate child. "You'll follow through this time, huh? You'll finish what you started?" he asked, and there was no denying the challenge in his tone.
He could see Ryan fuming inside, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he were trying to hold himself together. He thought surely that he'd pushed his buttons once again, but to his surprise, Ryan merely spoke, his voice amazingly unruffled despite the chill in its tone.
"Leave, Eric," Ryan told him once more before turning his back to walk away. "Please… Not tonight."
But Eric would have none of it. And if there was one thing Eric hated during a fight or an argument, it was people turning their backs on him and walking away. He was not going to be ignored.
Especially not by Ryan Wolfe.
"Don't you turn your back on me, Wolfe!" he nearly shouted, stalking over to grab the other's arm. "We're not finished, and I want--"
An arm suddenly swooshed past him, and Eric ducked just in the nick of time to avoid getting his jaw broken. His instincts took over, then, and before he could think clearly, he was charging and tackling Ryan back to the opposite wall with a back-breaking thud, knocking the breath out of him, before grabbing the younger man by his shirt and pinning him on the spot.
"What the hell was that?!" Eric shouted, enraged.
"Fuck off, Delko!" Ryan roared back, even as he struggled to catch his breath. "I don't…need…this shit…from you right…now!"
"That's right. You don't need this shit because you're already too deep in one!" Eric spat.
"FUCK YOU!" Ryan bellowed, anger pouring out of every pore in his body.
Bringing his face just inches from Ryan's, Eric hissed menacingly, "With pleasure."
--
TBC
A/N: Dum-dum-dum!! A cliffhanger! Mwah-ah-ah-ah-ah!!