Thanks again to everyone who has taken time to review my work, your comments are much appreciated and give me the confidence to carry on writing :-)

Also, I would like to say a huge 'thank you' to deeds73 who created an excellent fanart to accompany this story.

Here goes part three, I hope you all enjoy...

Realising that sleep would not return he wearily rose from his bed and headed downstairs to his kitchen, deciding to make himself a coffee, he cursed as he dropped a mug on the floor, blaming his lack of sleep for his clumsiness he bent down to pick up the broken pieces only to bang his head on the cupboard door that he had left open. Anger surged through him, like a dam bursting its banks; his pain, frustration and bitterness could no longer be held in check as he screamed at the inanimate objects in the room. Anger and frustration soon turned to violence and without much conscious though he threw anything he could get his hands on towards the nearest wall. Soon that wasn't enough, next to go were the tables and chairs, when the kitchen was suitably destroyed he stalked into the next room and unleashed his unbridled fury at anything that he could lay his hands on.

Glass, plaster and broken wood littered the house, he found himself in his bathroom and turned to stare at his reflection in the mirror, he loathed the pathetic excuse for a man in front of him, so enraged with the face staring back at him that he smashed his fist into the glass over and over again. Shards embedded themselves into his flesh and he welcomed the blessed release that the bleeding afforded him, it was not long until the bleeding from his hands was not enough, he had to get the images out of his mind before they drove him crazy. He had tried his best to fight his demons and battle his pain but the visions had become too much to bear, he stood at his full height and with as much force as he could muster he slammed his forehead into the plasterboard wall, he saw stars float across his vision and felt his ears ring, he was going to rid himself of these visions even if he had to beat his brains out doing it.

He had no idea how long he had remained in the bathroom or how he ended up back in his bedroom, he sat on the bed staring out of the bay window as the sun began to rise in Miami. His anger had long since burnt itself out and was replaced by pity and self-loathing; once more he glanced at the gun on his bedside table wondering if anyone would really care if he died. He picked the gun up with shaking hands and once more disengaged the safety, he held it with the barrel facing towards him, and no matter how he tried he could not keep the gun still enough to get off a good shot.

He was shaken from his reverie by his cell phone chirping and vibrating on his bedside cabinet; he looked at the display and hung his head in despair. "Maybe if I just ignore it they'll stop ringing me" he thought, but he knew that the person calling him would not give up without a fight, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what was to come he answered the phone.

"Hello?" his voice barely a whisper.

"Horatio, are you alright? I've just been woken by your neighbour Mrs Jefferies, she rung me and says it sounds like you were being attacked in your own home! Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I'm….I'm….uh…..I'm ok….Calleigh" he responded quietly.

She knew as soon as he had answered the phone that everything was not ok, her heart hammered in her chest when she heard his defeated tone, she realised that she had to get to him. Fast.

"Just stay where you are Horatio and don't move, I'll be with you in less than ten minutes" shetold him whilst scrambling to get dressed and find the keys to her Hummer. She was about to tell him to stay on the line when he abruptly hung up on her.

Her tyres screeched on the gravel of the driveway, she lept out of her Hummer and hurried to his front door. Seeing no lights on she withdrew her gun from her holster, took a deep breath and slowly turned the handle of the front door. She called out his name but got no response, crossing over the threshold with gun drawn she crept quietly from the hallway into the kitchen, she reached out blindly for the light switch and prepared herself for an attack from Horatio's assailant should he still be in the house. She gasped in shock as she took in the carnage in the room; china, glass, wood and plasterboard littered the kitchen, her CSI instincts telling her that a fight of some magnitude had taken place not long ago. She carried out into the lounge and was greeted with another trail of destruction but still no sign of Horatio or his attacker, heart thumping in her chest she called out to him once more.

"Horatio? ". No answer.

"Horatio, can you hear me?" Silence.

"Horatio, I need you to tell me where you are. Are you hurt?"

Panic gripped her now, visions of her friend lying in a pool of his own blood, dying flew through her mind, her gun was shaking in her hand and she willed herself to regain her composure. Then she heard it, at first she thought she had imagined it but when she heard it for the second time she knew that it was real. Climbing the staircase two steps at a time she silently checked the landing for intruders and then carefully and quietly made her way to his bedroom.

She found him there, sitting on his bed; gun in one hand and head in the other. He looked bruised and battered, his hands were covered in blood as was his face, she only hoped that the other guy had fared worse. Wary of startling him, she gently called his name once more.

"Horatio?" she crept further towards the bed.

He looked at her now, through the one eye that wasn't swollen shut but what she saw there shook her to the core. She had never seen this brave, strong, heroic man look so utterly defeated.

"What happened to you?" she asked him once more. "Who did this to you, did you know your attacker?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, "I'm ok. You can put your gun away Calleigh, there's no attacker, I…..uh…..just had a bit of an accident is all"

"You had an accident?! In every room of your house?!" she asked incredulously, her voice rising now. Suddenly the pieces fell into place in her mind and the realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks, had done this, all of this. To himself.

She could have smacked herself in the forehead, how could she have not seen this coming? They had all noticed Horatio becoming more and more withdrawn of late, his unpredictable mood swings and erratic behaviour had the whole team concerned. He was their fearless leader, he had been through more traumas and lucky escapes than the rest of them put together and each time he was knocked down he got back up, dusted himself off and carried on. Looking back now she could see the effect that the years had on Horatio, each blow he took weakened his legendary resistance a little and chipped away at his soul. It was only a matter of time before his armour would crumble and his strength would desert him completely.

She felt ashamed. Ashamed that she and the rest of the team had stood back and let this happen, they told themselves that he was invincible, their pillar of strength in their times of need. She now realised that this pillar had collapsed under the relentless pressure of holding the team together, through each trial and tragedy, through the pain of losing those he held so dear. She knew now that he needed her more than ever and this time she was determined. She would not let him down.