Here's the next part for you:

Miami. Present day:

"No, you're lying. Horatio would never stand back and let something like that happen, he's a good man." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, herself or Collins.

"Maybe you don't know your friend as well as you think you do. He did what he had to do to maintain his cover. Someone like you wouldn't understand." Collins replied dismissively.

"You're right, but I won't ever turn my back on him. Whatever he did back then is in the past, I know the man he is now. I'd give my life for his and so would the rest of the team."

"Being undercover is a lonely road, Miss Duquesne. Feelings and friendships just get in the way; your colleague would have done well to learn that much quicker than he did."

Flashback. New York 1994:

It had been two weeks since he had witnessed Luca Del Marco savagely tortured and murdered in front of him. Try as he might he could not get the image of the young mobster staring up at him with unseeing eyes, the look of accusation had stuck with him. However he tried to rationalise it, that the young punk had it coming, it still didn't change the fact that he had stood by and let the man suffer and ultimately die when he could have stepped in and saved him.

Lori and Robin had come knocking at his door but he ignored them and chose to spend his time drinking scotch and castigating himself for his actions. He had even heard the voice of young Detective James Martinez standing outside his apartment, the shame washed over him as he heard the pain in the other man's voice, begging him to open the door and explain himself. Andy had not paid him a visit since the day he had been arrested, his harsh words wounding his partner's ego.

They had all come looking for answers, answers he couldn't give them. He realised that he couldn't stay in the apartment any longer, he needed to find somewhere else, somewhere that they couldn't find him. He had managed to find an apartment a few blocks from his old one, the rent was cheap due to the fact that the building supervisor was being extorted by the Malucci brothers, forced to pay protection money to the mob organisation. The super was well aware of who John Kelly was and did his best to keep himself to himself and leave the redhead to go about his business freely.

He kept an eye on his old apartment building for the first few weeks, lurking in the shadows and watching as the people he cared about came and went, trying to find him. The physical pain of seeing them and yet not being able to reach out and talk to them or touch them hurt him deeply. When he slept at night he would see their faces and the looks of hurt and disappointment as they trudged wearily from the building and back to their own lives. He knew he had been drinking too much but it soon became the only way he could cope, trying to sleep whilst sober became nearly impossible, every time he closed his eyes he would be haunted by the things he had done recently. Even drinking himself into oblivion only helped for so long, he would wake as he did most nights, in a cold sweat with his heart thumping and his chest heaving.

He had been driving through Brooklyn that morning, collecting protection money from the local businesses on behalf of the Malucci's when he drove past a church. He pulled the car up outside and made his way into the old building. Upon entering he made the sign of the cross and sent a prayer up to God, willing him to listen. Looking around he could see the church was empty; he made his way to the confession box and was surprised when he heard the compartment to the other side open. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he said quietly.

A croaky voice came from the other side, "How long has it been since your last confession?"

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, "Too long, father. Months, I think."

"I see, and what has kept you away from the house of God for so long?"

"My life has spun out of control, I've done things I shouldn't have."

"And you've not confessed your sins to God, why?"

"I'm ashamed, Father. I've tried to ignore them and pretend that it didn't happen but it's haunting me, hounding me."

"Your sins?"

"Yes. I thought if I could block them out that the guilt would wash away, but it hasn't. It's got worse."

"And you have come to confess them and seek the forgiveness of God?"

He took a deep breath, "I don't think God will forgive me for the things that I have done, Father."

The croaky voice softened slightly, "You are never so far away from God that his arms can't reach you, my son. God will forgive any and all trespasses against him if your heart is pure. Tell me what it is that troubles you so."

"I've lied to the people I care about, betrayed my oath as an officer of the law, stolen and cheated. I watched a man die and didn't do anything to stop it, how can God forgive me for that?" He finished quietly, the hopelessness evident in his voice.

"And why did you do these things, my son?"

He gulped deeply, trying to regain his composure. "I had no choice, it was the only way I could protect them and keep them safe."

"You were forced the commit your sins by the forces of evil?" the priest questioned, keeping his voice level.

"They were going to kill them, the people I care about. It was the only way I could keep them safe."

"You admit that your actions were wrong but that you made your choices with the best of intentions?"

"Yes," he answered simply. "I never meant for things to get so out of control. They all hate me now; they think I did those things and that I enjoyed it."

"And did you? Enjoy it?"

"Of course I didn't," he snapped as his temper got the better of him, he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. "I've hated every minute of it, I can't eat or sleep."

"The weight of your actions hangs heavy on you, my son that much is clear. How have you reconciled your actions with yourself so far?"

"I haven't. I tried to tell myself that I did those things for the right reasons but how can I ever justify standing back and letting someone die? How can I ask for God's forgiveness when I can't even forgive myself?"

"And you are struggling to cope with this guilt?"

"Yes, even drinking myself into a stupor doesn't seem to work anymore. I keep seeing their faces every time I close my eyes, the people I lied to and betrayed. I want to confess to them so badly, tell them the reasons behind my actions. They won't understand, they hate me."

"Alcohol is not the answer, my son. God understands your reasons but might not agree with your actions. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

He ran a ragged hand through his hair, "Trust me, I know. If I could go back and change what I've done, I would. It's better that they are still alive and hate me, I think I could learn to live with that."

Silence filled the confessional before the priest finally spoke, "It is a brave man who takes it upon himself to bear the weight of responsibility for those he loves. It is an even stronger man who travels the path of righteousness on his own, cutting his ties from the people around him even though they do not understand the sacrifice he has made for them. God loves all his children, you may have strayed from your course but your heart is pure and He will forgive you of your sins."

"But what if I have to commit more sinful acts to keep them safe?"

"Then you must seek out the ear of God, he will always listen to you. Allow him to guide you through your time of torment and lead you back to His path should you find yourself straying. He is testing you at this time; you must keep your faith and remain true to God's word."

"I'm not sure I can do that." He answered quietly.

"You must for all other paths lead to Hell."

He left the church feeling slightly lighter for unburdening his sins and asking for forgiveness, he just wasn't sure he deserved it.