Title- Gain Control Again

Authors- Dame Flame and pepsicolagurl

Rating- Yup, you guessed it. PG13.

Disclaimer- See Chapter One. The Cliff's Notes version? Don't sue us. That about covers it.

Author Notes- Sorry about the lack of updates. Suffice to say, a snowstorm, followed by a rainstorm and flooding, followed by work, kind of made us put this on hold for a moment. But, hey, we're back. Be scared. Enjoy and let us know what you think.

Gain Control Again
Chapter Eleven

And like a lighthouse you must stand alone
Landmark a safe journey's end
No matter what sea I've been sailing on
I'll always come back home again

Out on the road that lies before me
There are some turns where I will spin
I only hope that you can hold me now
'Til I gain control again

With her fist, she pounded on the door again. She knew he was home, his vehicle was in the driveway. "Just answer the damned door, Horatio," she muttered under her breath, choosing to hit it again rather than kick it. To her surprise, the door did open. Horatio stood gaping at her, wearing (in her opinion) an awfully casual outfit of dark blue pants and a plain black tee shirt, rubbing his still damp hair with a towel. "It took you long enough to answer." She glanced at the towel that he gestured to. "Oh, don't give me that 'look at the evidence' bull. We're in trouble. Or Tim is. I haven't decided yet."

"You're running off at the mouth today, aren't you?" he questioned, closing the door as she entered the foyer. "What's happened?" he asked in a more serious tone, when he saw the look on her face.

"Tim's run off to God knows where. He was at my place, and I know he's not at Mary's, and...I'm not making much sense right now," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. "The short version is that Mary died this afternoon. Terminal cancer. I think that, somehow, it brought back some sort of memory, because he had a freak-out that was larger than a volcano exploding. He said some things that I don't care to rehash, and then he just took off. I don't know where he is, but I'm worried."

He stopped rubbing the back of his head with the towel and gestured for her to go into the living room. She dutifully took off her shoes and walked in, taking her habitual seat on the couch. He joined her. "Calleigh, you have to understand that there's nothing we can do about this." She gave him a doubtful look. "If you don't know where he is, none of us would. You're the person that he's closest to at the moment, and he already severed that tie."

"Well, the least we could do is look around a little, see if we can spot him," she told him incredulously.

"We wouldn't know where to begin. I know that you don't like the idea of this, and I'm not crazy about it, either, but Miami is a big city. He could be anywhere by now. He may not have a vehicle, but he can easily get a taxi or get on a bus. He's upset, he's irrational, but he's not a wayward child that we can bring home. There is nothing that we can do." He reached out a hand towards her to rest on her arm, but when she felt the contact, she jerked her arm away.

Her eyes were wide as she regarded him. "I knew I was wrong in coming here. He may not be a child's age, but he sure acts like he's a child. We don't know what's happening to him out there. Like you said, Miami is a big city, but it's also a dangerous one. What if he gets into some kind of trouble? He doesn't remember anything about his training to help himself." She shook her head and made to stand up. Horatio took ahold of her and pulled her back onto the couch. "Let me go. I have to go do something."

"You have to let him get through this on his own. Whatever we were doing before, it isn't helping him." He sighed and bit back a few choice comments when he saw the stubborn look in her eyes. "Calleigh, there is absolutely nothing that we can do for him. The only person that can help Tim is Tim."

"Thanks for the Yoda moment, but it wasn't what I was looking for. I was looking for support, or maybe help, or..." She ran out of steam then, and leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. Her hand came up to rub her forehead, as if a sudden headache had just attacked her. "You're right. I know you're right, but I don't want you to be. I just wanted to help him."

He put his towel down finally, and turned towards her. "That's what everyone wanted to do, but if he doesn't want help, there's nothing we can do. It's just like trying to convince someone to give up an addiction. Only there is no twelve step program for amnesiacs."

She frowned, her eyes opened slowly. "Sometimes, and I can't believe I'm going to say this, Horatio, but sometimes, I wish that Tim had just stayed dead. It would have made everything so much easier."

Calleigh had been wrong. He did go back to Mary's house, but he had ignored the ringing of the phone and walked right past it into the guest room that he had claimed as his own. He didn't bother to turn on any lights as he went further into the room, looking around wildly, although he knew that he wasn't searching for anything. Instead, he went towards a corner of the room and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down until his knees were drawn up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He had a nagging feeling that he had done the same thing when he was a child, and his favorite grandmother had died.

Very slowly, he rested his forehead on his knees, closing his eyes when he felt an onslaught of tears. He took a deep, shaky breath, but couldn't hold back. The first tears made its path down his cheek, landing on his jeans and leaving a small dark mark. As soon as the first one hit, the rest came fast and furious, his shoulders shaking.

Although he couldn't remember much, he never remembered feeling this lonely before in his life. He had not only lost the one person that let him be whoever he wanted, but he had pushed away the one person that was trying to help him. He barely knew his family, and as for the rest of the people he knew in Miami...well, he didn't bother with them. There was just him now. And he wasn't even sure who he was.

He refused to give in fully to the tears, however. There was some part of him that screamed that he wasn't the type to just sit down and cry over something. His entire body shuddered with unreleased sobs, and he tightened his arms around his legs, refusing to give in to them. He wouldn't do it. There was just no way in hell he was going to allow himself to break down that far.

He didn't have the slightest clue how long he had sat there, crying for God knows what, but when he had calmed down, he had noticed that the knees of his jeans were almost completely soaked, and the cuffs of his long sleeved shirt were damp from wiping the lingering wetness off of his face. He took a shaky breath and raised his head, looking at the dark room with watery eyes. Standing up, he stumbled for a moment before he made his way over to the bureau, picking out a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt without a second glance, getting rid of the clothes he was wearing. He put on the new clothes and walked into the bathroom, washing the lingering tears off of his face.

Speedle didn't have a clue of what to do next. He knew that he should eat something; he hadn't had anything in his stomach since he had been forced to eat something in the hospital at three in the morning. But he was feeling nauseous from his cry, and he didn't want to have to run back into the bathroom just to throw everything up. He wanted nothing more than to get drunk and just forget about what had happened that day, but Mary didn't keep alcohol in the house, and he had never brought any in himself. He was pretty sure that he hadn't been much of a drinker to begin with. The simplest thing to do would be to lay down and go to sleep, but he wasn't tired. Although he had only slept for a few fitful hours the night before, he wasn't the least bit tired anymore.

With a deep sigh, he went back into his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes landed on the thick book on the night table, but he knew that there was no way that he would be able to concentrate on something like that. His hand reached out for the telephone, not even thinking as he dialed Calleigh's number, hoping to hell that he wasn't going to be waking her up. He was pretty sure that all the phone calls that had came earlier had been from her. No one picked up at her house, however.

Making a face, he reached for his wallet and dug through it, finding the slip of paper that had another phone number written on it. He bit his lip, chewing on it for a moment, before sighing and dialing that number, waiting to see if someone was going to pick up. He wasn't surprised when a somewhat familiar voice greeted him. "Uh, hi," he said in return.

"Hi," Horatio returned, waiting for him to say something else.

Speedle sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "I was...wondering if you knew where Calleigh was. I was...worried about her," he said softly, biting on his lip again. If he kept this up, he was going to draw blood before long.

"She's worried about you, too. She's here. Fell asleep on the couch."

"Oh." He was silent for awhile, digging his toe into the carpet, watching his own movements. "I was thinking that maybe I should talk to that psychiatrist, you know. Calleigh keeps telling me to, but I wasn't...wasn't sure. But I think I should. I don't have his number, though."

"I have it here."

He nodded. "Yeah, but...look, could you make the appointment for me. I don't feel up to it. Just...let me know when I'm supposed to be there, okay?" He hesitated for a moment and then put the phone back down gently, sighing before pulling back the covers and climbing into bed, looking up at the ceiling.

He knew he would fall asleep eventually.