Title: Unknown

Warnings: If you're at Chapter 7, you know that this is about domestic abuse, and that Speed is a little confused. You also know that it's slash.

Chapter 7

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After the Donahue interview, I figured H would take me back to his office and ream me out. Instead, he decided it was time for lunch. So, he called Eric and Calleigh and asked them to join us at a pizza place close to headquarters.

I think this is all part of some master plan to get me to "open up." I mean, the four of us don't usually take our lunches at the same time. And everyone is being insanely supportive.

I figure Calleigh must've filled Eric in about my "injuries," because Eric immediately sat down next me and started examining my arms. He joked that I should've called him if I wanted to hit a bar last night. He said he would've "had my back." I don't doubt it.

Right now, Eric's cradling my bruised arm, pressing on it with his fingers. I can't shake the warm feeling I get from the contact. It's like Eric is holding my hand, and I get a tingling sensation that courses all over my body.

I must sleep-deprived.

"Ow!" I yank my hand away when Eric hits a sore spot.

Eric frowns. "Are you sure it's not broken?"

"I told you," I say, "I went to the ER."

Eric narrows his eyes. "You told me lots of things." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Eric glances guiltily at H.

I glance at H, too. He hasn't said a lot since we got here. Instead, he's just eating and watching the three of us. Suddenly, I understand what it must feel like to be a suspect in an interview room with one cop grilling you and another watching you from behind the mirror.

Rolling up my sleeve, I say to Eric, "You want proof? I still have glue on my arm from the tape they put on me after they drew blood."

"We believe you," Calleigh drawls sympathetically, "It's just that lately you've been less than forthcoming about things."

I like how Calleigh can defend me and scold me at the same time. She'll make a great mother.

"I know that," I say. Exhaling, I lean forward. "I'm having some personal problems right now, and I let it affect my professional life. I'm sorry."

"Well, do you want to talk about it?" Eric asks.

"No. Not really."

"We're you're friends, Eric prods.

"I know that, and I appreciate that." I stick my finger into my glass of ice water and absentmindedly stir the ice. "I just don't want to talk about it." I turn to H. "Horatio, I'm sorry I lied to you. It won't happen again."

I hope.

Horatio nods, but doesn't say anything. Finally, he takes a sip of diet cola and says, "Eat guys. Miami needs well-fed CSIs."

-----

Eventually, the lunchtime conversation veered away from me and centered on new equipment in the field, a pretty nighttime technician Eric has the hots for, and the car Hagen's been bragging about buying. It was nice to sit and talk to everyone without feeling pressured or nervous.

I'm still not sure if I'm going to have office time with H tonight or not. He hasn't said anything. On the up side, I think I may have escaped suspension. But a good reaming out or a written reprimand are still looming in the background.

If I'm being honest with myself, I deserve to be busted for my recent behavior. I really do. In the past few weeks, I've become something I don't like—a liar. I know that I have to protect Mark and our relationship, but lying to my friends gives me a pain in the center of my stomach.

I really believe things will calm down at home, though. Mark's a good man, and if he says something like last night will never happen again, it won't.

Now, our lunches eaten, Calleigh, Eric, H, and I are trudging into headquarters.

As we pass through the doorway, Valera collides with me. Placing her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, she says, "Apparently neither of us can walk!"

"Apparently not," I quip.

"Well," she smiles, "I'm weak from hunger. On my way to lunch."

"You're just going now?" H asks with concern.

"Carrie and I were trying to catch DNA up, Lieutenant. We're seriously swamped."

H nods. "Did you finish the scrapings from the Carver case?"

"Yes, sir. Carrie has the results." Valera waves and starts to take off. Then she turns back to me and says, "Oh, Speed. Your boyfriend's at the reception desk." She smiles approvingly. "He's hot."

All at once, the pain in my stomach starts pounding with new, bloodthirsty vengeance. Swallowing, I can feel three pairs of eyes on me as I round the corner toward the front desk.

Sure enough, Mark is standing there waiting for me. When he sees me, he smiles guiltily. "Hey, Timmy."

"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual.

Mark glances around me at H, Calleigh, and Eric. "You have an entourage?"

"We just got back from lunch," I say. Letting out a labored breath, I turn to my companions. I'd better get this over with. "Everybody, this is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my boss, Horatio Caine and my friends, Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne."

Mark flashes a broad smile. "I've heard a lot about all of you," he says. I notice that his eyes rest on Eric for a few seconds.

Eric mutters a "hey," and then shuffles his feet awkwardly

Calleigh thrusts out her hand. "I'm so glad to meet you," she says cheerfully, "We knew there was someone in Tim's life, but he wasn't giving details. Mark, was it?"

"Yeah," he grins. "Okay, you're the one who likes guns."

She beams, "That's right!"

"Pleased to meet you," H says.

Mark smiles. "Lieutenant Caine," he says, "I'm sorry Tim was late this morning. It was my fault."

"Your fault?" H raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Mark nods, "I turned the alarm clock off when I got up. Forgot to wake him."

Well, any hope of passing Mark off as "just a friend" is out the window.

Mark turns to me. "I'm really sorry."

"Well, it happens," H says evenly, "I figured he was probably still run down from his trip to the ER the other night."

H is checking my story. Damn.

When I see panic ghost over Mark's face, I say, "I told them about the idiot in the bar." I can feel my legs shaking almost uncontrollably.

Licking his lips, Mark nods, "Okay. Good." He gently squeezes my shoulder, and then faces H. "Is he in trouble?"

H's lips form a thin, but pleasant smile. "No, he's getting amnesty this time."

This time.

H gestures to Calleigh and Eric. "C'mon, guys. Let's give them a minute." Patting me on the shoulder, H says, "See you in a few minutes, Speed."

"Okay, H," I say.

Mark takes his thumb and runs it along my bottom lip. "I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I was worried about you being late." He grins. "And I got sick of asking to meet these people."

I half-smile. "So you figured you'd take matters into your own hands?"

"Yeah," he says, "Desperate times and everything."

Part of me is glad Eric, Calleigh, and H have finally met Mark. That's one less secret I have to keep. But the other part of me . . . Well, I love Mark, and I want to share my life with him. But I sort of liked that my work and my friends from work were mine and only mine. I guess I liked having a small section of the world that Mark couldn't touch.

Now that's done.

"So," Mark says, "Now that we've all met, maybe we can have them over?"

I shift uncomfortably. "To my apartment? I've never had any of them over before."

That's true, and this is the first time it's occurred to me. In all these years, I've never had any of them over. I mean, Megan used to come over all the time. And Tyler came over to do some stuff to my computer. But I've never had H, Eric, or Calleigh over to my apartment.

Weird.

"They're your friends," Mark says.

I shrug. "I could ask them. I don't know."

"Ask them," he urges gently, "I want them to be our friends. Not your friends."

I gaze quietly at Mark for a while. This could be a good thing. I mean, I've felt really isolated from everybody lately. This way, I could spend time with my friends without ignoring Mark.

"I'll ask them," I say.

Mark grins. "Great. How about tomorrow night? I'll cook."

Smiling, I say, "I'll let you know tonight."

He cuffs me on the jaw. "Don't worry. They'll love me, Timmy."