Esposito's Point of View

The paramedics found him a few hours later, or so he was told. He acted grateful, smiling at people he knew, saying "thank god" more times than he could count, but inside he knew he wasn't. Soon after he woke the memories came flooding back, as well as the guilt. He had let his partner die and despite the minor injury he couldn't walk three damn feet. He couldn't even will his own body to reach up and try to stop Jerry Tyson.

He knew the police would question him about what the suspect was wearing, when and why they had taken Ryan and worst of all why he couldn't stop him, it was routine and he knew it. If the questions didn't kill him it would be the guilt. Not the guilt that swallows you up and then disappears, no that would be a relief. It was the kind of guilt that frays the edges of your sanity, the guilt that worked its way through your subconscious and woke you up from an otherwise peaceful existence. It was the kind of guilt that you could not escape. The kind of guilt that would never disappear, the kind of guilt that woke you up at midnight because you thought you heard your partner cry out to you, the kind of guilt that haunted you day in and day out.

He had never experienced anything like this with Thornton. He wasn't even in the same side of town when Ike was "killed", but not with Ryan. He was three feet away. He could almost hear the sound of his partner's heart beating and the heat rolling off of him in agony filled waves. He could almost feel his partners eye of his back, unraveling him from the inside out. He could almost hear the sound of Kevin's shallow breathing, and the blood pounding against the dull metal bullet. He swore he could hear Kevin call out his name in a hoarse tone, almost a whisper. He was so close, too close, he could see the pleading look displayed in his Ryan's face.

He and Kevin had often joked about what it would be like to actually have a time machine. They had suggested using it to go back in time and ask the girl who would have said yes to go to prom with them instead of being that guy sitting in the corner with a bunch of jerks. Now Javier knew what he would have done, he would have gone back in time and stopped Tyson from shooting Ryan or even better not even being arrested. Yes a serial killer would have gone free, but Kevin would be here, with him. Partners till the wheels to fall off.

But now because of him there were no wheels to fall. They had fallen off and plummeted into the abyss, the place of no return. There wasn't even anything to attach them too if he did manage to find them. They were a metaphorical object who's only objective was to signify their friendship, there partnership. Now there was nothing to represent. Now it was just some guy cooped up in a hospital with a minor injury and a two day medical leave from his job at a precinct. He wasn't a cop anymore, just a coward, and a fool. Two days and he would be back at his job, without Kevin by his side. Two days and he would be fine, and what did Ryan have. Forever in some unknown mystery and eternity in a place nobody ever came back from.

He knew the guilt would haunt him and it had a damn good reason. He had let his partner die and his killer walk free over his own paralyzed form. Ryan's murderer would never be caught, never brought to justice and just because his body was just too damn stubborn. He didn't even give a sideways glance to his partners dying body only three feet away. He had been too busy watching a ghost doing what it did best, disappear. After two of days being cooped up in a hospital he was fet up with having the same thought rocketing around inside his head like it was its life mission. He couldn't stand the guilt and the suffering he had knowingly caused Ryan. Within a few days he would be free to live his life while Ryan lost his.

Packing up the get well card from Beckett, the large overpriced teddy bear from Lanie and those disgusting chocolates his mother had sent him, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed home. When he arrived home, it felt empty and it scared him. His home had never been truly empty before. It always had some movement whether it be him alone or him and Ryan, it was never empty. He couldn't even sit down on his couch; it reminded him too much of the Madden nights that he had hosted every other Thursday. Today would have been Ryan's night to host, but of course Ryan wouldn't be at home.

Returning to work the morning proved to be a challenge. He was happy to be home, he really was, but at the same time it was a curse. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night; the memory of his partner dying a few feet away seemed to haunt his every thought, even in his subconscious he dreamed that Ryan was yelling out to him, beckoning him to help, but he couldn't move. He could only watch as Kevin bled out, the waves of agony never ceasing to roll off his partners' suppressed form. He had woken up in a cold sweat, jolted awake by the powerful feeling of a bullet piercing his chest and his partners look of smugness. In his dream Kevin was taunting him, almost laughing at him, laughing at the Latinos helplessness and lifting away the fine veil protecting his soul from the guiltiness in his heart. Laughing at his partner, laughing at the man who was always there for him and who never left his side. This had been the first time in years he hadn't gone with Ryan and the only time it had ever really mattered.

Everything seemed to remind him of Ryan, his partner ... um former partner. He had gotten out of the habit of making coffee in the morning, preferring the processed stuff Ryan brought him before the first body was called in or when he jogged past the barrier of yellow tape. It wasn't as grand as Kate's bear claw and expensive brew but it suited him just fine.

He sat down on the couch, hoping that the others would try to understand if he was a little late. He tried to get comfortable but failed miserably. He stood up quickly, trying to escape the sharp pain in his backside. Picking up the sharp metal object he immediately recognized it as Ryan's lapel pin, a classic American flag, always the patriot, Esposito thought. He must have left it here last week when a particularly intense round of Madden had continued on till past one in the morning.

Esposito had got up to retrieve two more beers from the fridge. It couldn't have been more than a minute but when he returned Ryan was sleeping peacefully, taking up the three cushions of Esposito's leather sectional, a big difference from Ryan's red monstrosity. He remembered having to resist the urge to curl up right beside him, not caring if his arm draped ever so slightly against the other mans small waist.

Looking at his watch he stood up quickly yet again, spilling a small amount of bad tasting coffee-like sludge to his wrinkled polo and losing the comfort of the desk chair he had been sitting on. He had been sitting there for half an hour, reminiscing or whatever it was called. If he kept this up he would have to be excused for a lot more than an hour.

Getting up he nearly ran for the elevator, the small drop of toxic sludge completely forgotten.

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