'A free man' was a stand alone piece for an LJ challenge, but because of kind words from melly and Rahel, I decided to add a little Speed addendum.
He dislikes hospitals, remembers them all too well from not so long ago. A different friend, a different kind of Hell.
Yet, in a strange, twisted way, he can understand the snowmobile accident that crushed his friend, knows Fate is a cruel bastard that likes to play with fire and ice. The random whim of Sod he has grown to accept - this, this he can't.
Someone snatched away Eric for their own amusement, for a sick game of vengeance that was crystal-cut in their minds. A human being deliberately locked his best friend in a box and was waiting for him to starve to death. Speed shudders, grasping the polystyrene cup of cold coffee, blinking against the dull ache in his chest.
Speed thought he knew all the evil in the world, has seen every crime he could imagine and let it brush past him, struggling for composure he knew he had and nearing failure every time. Why should this one be any different?
He looks up, and Eric's face blurs before his eyes, but he forces himself to look. He doesn't need to though, because he remembers all too well - sunken eyes staring at him wildly, full curved lips starting to blue, hands frozen between his as the paramedics rushed him away.
Eric is the difference; he has brought Speed back to Earth, and he can't even attempt composure when faced with this. Eric did his job: he locked away a drug lord, and he was so happy, so drunk on his success when he came home to Speed that evening. His kisses were eager, his hands insistent, and Speed could never resist Eric, not even if he tried.
This was his reward. Minions and flunkies at a loss, thought they'd lock away the CSI like he did their boss. Speed couldn't even stand near the ones who lived, the revulsion making him physically sick. He's glad H is interviewing them, more glad that Calleigh's on vacation. She doesn't need this - hell, he doesn't need this.
Yet how he wishes it was him.
He can't bear the thought that Eric suffered, trapped in a box barely four foot square, no food or water for over two days; still hovering in a state of exhaustion with IV lines marring his dark skin. Then, the scratches, the ragged red gashes across both hands, as he tried to claw his way out and failed.
Speed isn't sure he would cope, but he would have done anything to stop Eric's pain. The thought scares him in a way, but he is resolute, reminds himself to tell Eric that when he wakes. His lover will probably laugh, and it will do them both good to know that smile lives on, can still shine.
Until then, Speed must wait with his thoughts, watching life-restoring liquid trickle down into Eric's arms, wishing he could help him, ease him, comfort him. Wishing they didn't fight the hour before over something so trivial, and Speed adds that to his 'Tell Eric' list - none of it matters if he has Eric. That's important.
Speed starts as Eric stirs, and he shuffles closer to the bed, closing his eyes in thanks as he adds one last note to his list - I love you.