Chapter 3

Now that I have gotten going on this meant-to-be one shot, I am installing a third chapter. It will take on a more serious tone.

Possible spoilers for season 9. Sorry about the generality.

Horatio sat with Rick in his office; doing paperwork on the recent drug tests. Rick absentmindedly watched people work through the glass of the office's walls. He tapped on the wood of Horatio's desk and earned himself a solid slap on the wrist.

"Ouch." the sergeant complained.

"Don't annoy me." Horatio grunted without looking up. Rick studied some recent wounds on his knuckles.

"Did you get in a fight recently?" Rick asked.

"It's none of your business," Horatio said and gave him a pointed glare with his steely blue eyes.

"I'm just concerned."

"Don't be."

"Horatio-"

"Shut. Up."

"One of these days, you won't be able to snake your way out of a lawsuit. I know what you have been doing."

"I told you to shut up."

"It's dangerous Horatio. You're going to end up in a jail cell."

"Rick."

"And you won't last three hours."

"SHUT UP!" Horatio yelled and his voice reverberated off the walls. People down below looked up in concern but hastily went about their business. Rick swallowed a little bit.

"You know it is true."

"Get out. I'll send someone to your office with the paperwork." Stetler nodded, not wanting to anger him farther. He walked out of the office and shut the door behind him. He walked down the hall and got several curious glances. He met Kyle in the reception area.

"What did you do?" Kyle asked.

"I pressed him about something. Don't worry about it." Rick said gently. "Are you going home?"

"Yeah, but my dad is supposed to take me home."

"You don't have a car?"

"No."

"I have an old 88 Corvette convertible. My neighbor dropped it at my house when he moved last month. I think it only needs a new alternator and it will run. You want to help me out with it?"

"Sure."

"If we can make it run, you can have it."

"Really?"

"Yep; I have no use for it. Do you want to work on it this weekend?"

"That would be great."

"Great." Rick nodded. They walked down into the cool garage and to Rick's Lincoln Imperial.

"This looks like something Al Capone would drive." Kyle said.

"This car is too good for Al Capone." Rick took Kyle to his house before driving to the an auto parts store and got the right parts for the car.

000000

Later in the week Rick drove Kyle to his house out in the glades. He lived in two story Victorian style home. It had a wrap around porch, a small barn and a garage off near the barn. At the top of the hill a tree had grown through the shell of an old Ford truck. A few horses stood out in the pasture along with several dogs. The dogs leapt up as they stepped out of the car and surrounded it.

"They won't hurt you," Rick told Kyle as the dogs sniffed him curiously. The two stepped onto the porch and went inside. Kyle stayed downstairs as Rick went up to the second floor to change. He walked through the living room and examined the paintings and other works of art and antiques on the wall. A Blunderbuss hung over the fireplace along with a buck's head. He counted the points, 15.

The would creaked as Rick walked around on the second floor. A cat rubbed Kyle's ankles as he stopped to examine a photograph on an oak shelf. Three men sat together on their motorcycles. The one in the middle had long red hair. The other two had darker hair. The red head looked a lot like his dad, but quite a few years younger.

Kyle jumped a little as Rick appeared back down stairs in jeans and a t-shirt.

"The one in the middle is your dad. That's me on the right and Mac on the left." he said.

"You were friends?"

"Yes, believe it or not."

"Who is Mac?"

"He's an ex marine, right now he is the lieutenant of the New York police department." he said and walked over and stood beside him. "We all went to college together. I think this picture was taken in '82."

"Why aren't you friends anymore?"

"People change," Rick shrugged. Kyle wasn't satisfied with that answer.

"How so?"

"Time takes a toll I guess." The two walked off the porch and across the lawn to Rick's garage. He turned on the light and illuminated the covered Corvette. A Harley stood in the corner, along with a few benches full of tools. He pulled the cover off of the car and shook the dusk from the canvas.

"It's gorgeous," Kyle laughed and walked around the cherry red sports car.

"You like it? The owner also had the interior reupholstered about ten years ago." Kyle opened the door and sat in the driver's seat. While he looked over everything inside, Rick opened the hood and took out the drained battery. He replaced it within a few minutes with a new battery.

"What did you say to make my dad mad earlier?" Kyle pried.

"Nothing."

"Come on Rick."

"You don't need to worry about it."

"Is it about his knuckles?"

"What do you know about it?"

"I work in the morgue, I know fight wounds when I see them."

"I have a theory."

"I think you know what he did."

"You aren't going to let up on me are you?"

"No. Tell me your 'theory."

"He has a bad temper." Rick said and took a long pause as he fiddled with the engine.

"And?"

"He... he likes to... kick suspects' asses."

"Is that legal?"

"No. But he scares them so bad they won't dare tell a soul what happened to them."

Kyle didn't speak for a little while.

"He never talks about his childhood." Kyle said after a while. "He avoids it. Even when I ask."

"I don't think I'm at liberty to talk about that."

"Why not?"

"It's just a deep personal matter for him. We were friends at one point, and we did tell each other everything."

"I understand." Kyle nodded. In two hours the two replaced the alternator and did a little re wiring before trying to start the car. The engine sputtered a little bit before all eight cylinders roared.

"Success!" Rick laughed. "Let's take it for a ride."