They stood quietly together, confined by each others arms for what felt like forever, and yet still wasn't long enough. Slowly their grasp of one another relaxed and the fading warmth of Calleigh's body felt lonesome to Horatio. He didn't look up as they separated from one another. She looked expecting to meet his eyes, but instead his face remained downcast, focusing on his own feet, and his hands slipped into his pockets. The demeanor in which he stood was not one that personified him, Calleigh thought. This was so frail, so self depreciating, this was not Lieutenant Caine.
"Horatio?", she spoke softly, "are you.." She didn't know how to finish her question when she realized she could see the answer all over him. His hand idly straightened the front of his shirt when he noticed the blood that still remained there. Three random spots stained a blackened red, in contrast to the pale blue fabric. Tim's blood. For reasons unbeknownst to him the sight made him feel guilty, as though he'd stolen some piece of Tim that belonged somewhere else now. He clenched his jaw, biting back something inside.
"What have I done, Calleigh?" The words were just audible.
"What have you done?" She questioned gently, "Horatio, you haven't done anything." Her voice was always so reassuring but, in his mind she was more right than she knew.
"Your right. I didn't do anything." He paused a moment and his sight cast down the locker row, "I didn't react fast enough. Tim saw it before me and I should have reacted faster when I saw him. I don't know why I didn't. He'd still be here if I had." His voice was so matter of fact, that as much as Calleigh wanted too, she wasn't sure she could convince him otherwise. She opened her mouth to speak, but he looked back into her eyes and spoke first, as his hand brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, Calleigh...I'm sorry, I lost something so valuable to us all... I don't expect to be easily forgiven." At a loss for words Calleigh didn't speak, and Horatio nodded to her lightly before he walked away down the corridor.
Hours later and the building was even darker now. Only various security lights were on in the halls, and the locker room was shrouded in rich shadows of midnight blue. Everyone had gone now; Caine had made sure of that. The whole building was lonesome and empty, save himself and the security guards. He had a small box with him and in it he delicately placed the contents of his fallen comrade's locker. Removing various objects from Tim's work and home life, some of which brought Horatio a memory of the young man, soon made the locker, desolately empty, until there was only one final container resting inside. Horatio examined it in the low light but didn't figured out what it was until he opened the small plastic case. A gun cleaning kit. A particular gun cleaning kit. One Horatio had given Tim months ago, after a particularly trying Dispo-day. A day H had considered the closest call with the life of a colleague and friend he'd had in ages. Horatio's lips parted as he struggled to hold still his breath, to keep from gasping out a sob. He drew his fingers over the name scratched into the top of the kit by Tim himself. Before long his hand fell over his eyes and his breath became uneven as tears slid down his face.