Disclaimer: I own nothing. CSI: Miami and CSI: Crime Scene
Investigation belong to whomever they belong to. The songs belong to Enigma and Micheal Cretu.

Synopsis: Angst fest. Tim loves Eric and Eric doesn't love him. It's Horatio to the rescue… sort of. (Timothy Speedle/Horatio Caine)

Archive: Long as you ask and make sure my e-mail address is with it... :)

Pairing: Horatio Caine/Timothy Speedle

Rating: R because of allusions to sexual content and very little
strong language. Rating will probably go up later due to sexual
content. (LOL)

Authors Notes: This was supposed to be a Eric Delko/Timothy Speedle
fic but for some reason it didn't work out. Then I was going to make
it Speed/Greg Sanders-- but my muse demanded that I write a
Horatio/Speed fic. So, here is the first part and I hope you enjoy.
(Be forewarned... it takes me a long time to post the chapters
afterwards... LOL. I'm bad about that...) Ah, and it is extremely
disjointed... it's supposed to be.

Chapter 1: Close Your Eyes

((Close your eyes, just feel and realize. It is real and not a dream… I'm in you and you're in me. It is time, to break the chains of life, if you fall out you will see, what's beyond reality.))

Warm water trickled down his body as he tried to wash the dirt and grime off of his skin. It was one of those days, when the case followed him home. One of those days when he wore his heart on his sleeve so badly that it made him look foolish and hotheaded. It was one of those days when he knew that he would probably have to do some fast talking to pull his ass out of the fire—but he was willing to take that chance, to reach out, because everyone else was so goddamned distance. It tore him up inside to see the victims so pained without an ounce of compassion directed towards them. So, he had taken a chance and he had reached out… because the case hit so close to home. They had to determine whether it was an accident or not. But someone went water skiing, hit something, and was paralyzed. She died from complications a couple of hours after surgery. He had taken her best friend out for a drink. This had caused him to get a bit of fire from the higher ups. Even his boss was pissed, but there was nothing he could do because he felt so bad for her. He had to do it, because he knew how it felt to be in that situation. He knew that feeling of abandonment… he knew that feeling of betrayal. There was absolutely nothing that he could do to persuade himself not to take her out. Of course—the others didn't understand. Horatio would have understood—but his brother's murdered had been caught. It was worse when it was an accident. If it was not an accident there was someone to blame—when it was an accident, though, there was no one to blame and more often than not—the one who lived found themselves blaming themselves. It was a horrible feeling and he had to be there for her… because he knew what it felt like to be all alone when something like that happened. He wasn't afraid to let everyone know that he had done that willingly. But still, they didn't seem to understand. With his mind racing and his eyes glistening with unshed tears, Timothy Speedle exited the shower and toweled himself off absent-mindedly. His curly hair was matted down to his head with the water, but Speed, as he was called by his friends, quickly changed that by drying it off as well. Soon, his entire body was dry again and he pulled on a pair of sweat pants. He was comfortable. Unlike most nights though, he was feeling an immense amount of guilt. So, he did what he always did when he began to feel this way. He pulled the half quart of Moose Tracks ice cream out of the refrigerator freezer and grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer.

Speed walked over to his movie cabinet and pulled out an old favorite. He popped it into his VCR and began to watch it. He curled up on his couch, opened the ice cream, and began to gorge himself. He knew that the ice cream was bad for him, but he couldn't help it. He was feeling so down—and with no one to physically comfort him—he wasn't sure where to turn. A previously unshed tear made its slow trek down his cheek, followed soon by another one. Soon, he was openly crying, forgetting about the half quart of ice cream sitting in his lap. He set the spoon in the container and buried his head in both hands. Soon, the silent tears turned into loud sobs which racked his body with every one. He curled up into himself, assuming the fetal position. He wasn't sure what to do anymore and every extra second he spent alone, wallowing in his pity, his pain got worse and worse. He knew that he was close to his breaking point. He also knew that his knives had been sharpened recently. He contemplated that method for a minute, before deciding that death by his fire arm would be more convenient and quick… less painful. Fortunately for Speed, whose thoughts were treading down dark roads, he had not the will power to eat his gun or to inflict any harm upon himself. He just couldn't do it. The pain that he was feeling though was unbearable. Maybe, it was time to face down the demons of his past. Though he knew that he couldn't. There were too many things back there which forced him to shy away from that. He sighed and focused once again on the movie playing on his screen.

The age old movie he was watching was "Breakfast at Tiffany's" with Audrey Hepburn. It was not his favorite part and he looked down at the quart of ice cream. Sensing that his position in life was not going to get much better, he dove back into his Moose Tracks. Eric Delko, his best friend and co-worker, had harassed him a lot about his weight, especially since he didn't fit the typical standards of what a "real" man should look like. Speed snorted into his carton of ice cream. Even after everything that had happened, he still considered Delko his best friend. After all that had happened between the two of them, Speedle felt no less in love with him than he had before. In some far reach, pathetic center of his mind, he felt more love now. For some reason, the rejection and one night stand that had been born of Speedle's confession to Eric just made the emotions he felt that much stronger. It was pathetic actually. What Speed could not figure out was why Eric had moved things along as though nothing had happened. Their relationship, friend wise, seemed to be flourishing. There was even a lighter spring in his step. All of those questions had been answered this day.

Of all days it had to be this one, the day he got heat from his boss for caring about the loved one of the victim. Horatio, of all people, should have understood what it was like to not be able to control emotional involvement. He had to know what it was like to feel those stirrings of an animalistic and baser emotion of anger pulled on the heart strings. He knew that Horatio had to know—and of all the people who would crawl on his back for something like that. With an indignant, childish, and petulant sigh, Speedle tried to refocus his attention on the movie. However, his self-pity party had taken over his mind and there was no backing away from his feelings. But, on top of being bitched at by his superior—other news has ruined his day even more.

He had found out the real reason why Delko had turned him down. No, it was not even that insomuch. In truth, Eric had not turned him down. Eric had said yes, initially. He and Speed had had a nice roll in the sheets. The next morning, before work, Tim had woken up alone in his bed. A small note was attached to his pillow that was a note that basically said, "I'm flattered, I had a nice time, but no thanks. See you around at work." Speed felt the beginnings of tears beginning to sting his eyes as he thought about the note. The depth of his obsession with Eric went so far that he kept the note, just because it smelt faintly of clove, the scent that seemed to cling to Eric no matter how much cologne he put on or how many showers he took.

But today, Eric had told him about his lover—his boyfriend. He remembered the conversation oh so well, it played like some demonic broken tape inside of his mind. Closing his eyes only made it sharper, plugging his ears only made it louder. It was twisting around in his mind like a venomous snake, writhing within his mind. It had so poisoned his mind that by the end of the shift he could think of nothing but the conversation. Being berated by Horatio had just made the snake tighten its constricting grasp around his brain. It was just another bite, filled with deadly poison, and left to simmer and boil in his mind. It was like a large pot inside his head with a hodge podge of ingredients that were specifically made to enrage and sicken.

"Speed?" Eric's voice was softer than normal. For some reason a sick feeling had settled into Speed's stomach. Irregardless, the CSI/Detective turned to face his colleague/love-interest. Speed stared into the endless chocolate irises that were beset like jewels in the statue of some ancient tribal god. He deeply admired every aspect of his friend—too much, most likely.

"Yes?" Speed asked, thrusting his normal joy and friendliness into his voice. It was forced, he knew it, he was pretty sure that Eric knew it too. Speed knew that he wasn't going to like what was coming. He was sure of it.

"You remember Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown… from Las Vegas?" He asked, his voice sounded weighted down. Tim wondered if something had happened to the two of them. But there was something else… he noticed that Eric would not meet his eyes. With a slight sigh, Tim steeled himself for the worst. Whatever it was, it could not be all that bad. However, Eric's next comment was not only like a kick in the mouth—but it was also like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head in the middle of January in Michigan. Tim nodded slowly.

"I've been seeing Warrick since before he left… I mean, dating him. We fly to the others place of resident alternating weekends. We've been engaged in a relationship for almost two years…" Eric said, still not meeting Tim's gaze.

Back in the reality of his thoughts, Tim curled up tighter into himself and began to sob into his arm. Hot tears gushed out from his eyes before he could think to try and stop them. Sobs racked his not so small frame. Finally, he succumbed to the grief in his heart… and he went to write a letter.

° . °

Horatio, in an uncommon act of compassion towards his team, had made his way over to his long time co-worker's house. The door was shut tight against any visitors it seemed, all lights except for one in the kitchen were out. The tell-tale glow of a flickering television screen glowed eerily in the slightly parted lace-like curtains. Something told Horatio that something was amiss and given his profession, he had learned long ago to always trust instinct. Horatio rapped lightly on the door and seeing as there was no answer, he drew his firearm and opened the door as quietly as he could. He was surprised to find Speed, hunched over his computer, focused on nothing but the computer screen. His fingers were flying rapidly over the keyboard and occasionally, he would mutter to himself. To Horatio, it was nonsensical ramblings… to Speed, it was his life crumbling around his ears.

Speed was intently focused on his computer screen. He glanced down at the bottom of his screen and noticed that his suicide note was reaching three pages. He sighed aloud, a sound that almost brought tears to Horatio's eyes, and leaned back away from his computer. He stretched himself out languidly, and Horatio felt a stirring within his body. Quietly, he moved behind the younger man, wondering what it would feel like to feel that soft looking skin underneath his fingers. A shiver of desire ran through him. He had never felt a desire this strong pull him, his fingers were almost twitching at the thought of running themselves over his baby soft skin. His eyes darkened slightly and he read over the younger man's shoulder. Because of the way it was positioned he couldn't read too much of it. But what he could see was enough to make the blood drain from his face and his heart to ache for the younger man. He also knew, right away, that it was a suicide note. Horatio finally settled his slight, rough hands on to Tim's shoulders.

His hands began to massage a gentle pattern on the younger man's broad shoulders. Speed groaned low in his throat, instantly succumbing to the feeling of warm probing hands on his overtly tense back. A low purr began to grow in the base of Speed's throat. Abruptly, though, Horatio stopped. With a force rougher than he normally had, he spun Speed around to face him. His slight hands gripped the man's chin with unknowing force.

"What the FUCK were you thinking!" Horatio exploded, the anger bursting forth through his words and his motions. The anger seemed to tense up the older man's body. Speed stared at him, wide-eyed with fear. He was not used to his boss being so angry with him. Horatio bore his green-blue eyes into Speedle's dark brown ones. They stayed there like that for what seemed like eternity, even though it was only mere seconds.

"I promise you, Timothy Speedle, that I will never let anything hurt you. As long as I draw breath within this body, I will keep you safe. I cannot promise to deflect you from everything, but I promise we will work through everything. I love you, Timothy Speedle… and I cannot let you leave me like this…" Horatio said, keeping his eyes locked into Speeds. With those words out of Horatio's mouth, the last shreds of Speed's control left him and for the second time that night—he collapsed into helpless sobs.