Left Undone
Chapter 3 - Unraveling
Calleigh sat at her desk with her head in her hands, unable to focus on what was in front of her. Instead, her mind kept replaying what her son had said to her in the heat of the moment,
" Why should I, you let him die....
She couldn't help but think that Timothy was right, she could've done something, but she didn't. It stung her to hear that from her son, she had loved Tim with all of her heart , and she could never hurt him, but by staying quiet and doing nothing, that is exactly what she did. She killed her own husband.
The door opened to the lab, startling Calleigh and she quickly wiped the tears from her face. It couldn't be let known that she was still doing this to herself. She turned to see Horatio standing just inside the lab, his hands made busy with the black sunglasses that he carried with him. He had a look of sorrow as he glanced at her then down to the floor. His was very similar to Calleigh's, in that he felt like he had let him down. He , after all ,was there when Tim was shot and he had watched his life slowly drift away. If only he had been more prepared, more aware, Tim perhaps would still be here.
" How are we coming with the samples?" Horatio asked in a hushed tone. The atmosphere in the room had been delicate and he debated whether to invade her solitude.
"Um, they're coming along," Calleigh sniffed as she continued to wipe her eyes. When she had gotten herself somewhat together, she brought a smile to her face as she reported what was found at the club. "Ryan and I found a contact in the water bowl at the club. I think it belonged to our vic. She was missing one on the plane trip."
Horatio nodded and smiled lightly, keeping his lips pursed tightly, " Good, good. How are you doing?"
" There's a lot more to test, I've got to get Cynthia the checks that were found in the plane to check for forgery, then I want to go and talk to ..."
" Calleigh, take it easy," Horatio said as he walked up to her. Up close he could see the toll that her life, her stresses were taking on her. His heart sunk at the memory of Tim's autopsy.
" Horatio, I have a lot of work to do."
" Yes, we all have work to do, but Calleigh, what good would it do if you go through this evidence with all that is troubling you? You could be inadvertently compromising the case."
"Are you saying you want me off of the case?" Calleigh asked , " I can assure you , Horatio , that I've been no less than committed to this."
" I know that, but Calleigh, sometimes we have to take a minute to let the blood start flowing again."
Calleigh knew exactly what he was talking about. Every since Tim , Calleigh had turned off every emotion, every hint of laughter, of enjoyment, all of it. She stuffed it deep inside of her, feeling no need to use them anymore. The love of her life was no longer around to enjoy it and she didn't have the strength nor the desire to invest it into someone else.
" I know, Horatio, it's just hard," Calleigh said as her eyes began to crinkle. She didn't want to cry in front of him. " Every moment that I have, I think of Tim, of what I lost that day in the jewelry store, and I feel like I can't go on. What's more is that Junior isn't doing his best, and he blames me for what happened to his father. I feel like I'm unraveling at the seams."
Horatio put a comforting hand on her shoulder as the tears finally appeared , dropping on to the table. This was brutal to experience, grieving that seemed to have no end. No matter what Horatio said to her, it wouldn't change anything. She would still blame herself and she would still carry around her regrets and guilt.
" What's been going on with Timothy?"
" He's failing his classes, and he cursed out a teacher today before walking out. The respect isn't there, he comes and goes when he pleases. I don't know what to do with him anymore, Horatio. I've lost control ."
By this time Calleigh was weeping at full tilt , and Horatio reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a handkerchief , offering it to her. As raw as this felt , he knew that it was good for her to get this out.
" How about I talk to him?"
Calleigh looked up to him with questioned eyes and shook her head, " This is my problem, Horatio. I shouldn't drag you into it."
" You are not dragging me into anything, Calleigh. Speed, ... Speed was like a son to me, and Tim jr ... I feel like it's something I have to do. For Speed," Horatio replied quietly. Calleigh continued to look at him, seeing what he thought he could hide from others.
" Horatio, there was nothing you could've done to save him, it was a kill shot. Even if you did try to stem the blood, he would've bled out any way."
" But I was his supervisor, I could've done something ... suspended him ... reprimanded him, something to let him know that his gun maintenance was serious business. But I chose not to, and he suffered."
" We all let him down, Horatio. Those that loved him, who were closest to him, by just letting this go on, we all had a part in his death. It's just too much for some of us to bear I guess," Calleigh rationalized.
" Just the same, Calleigh, I want to talk to him. Maybe if he got it from a man's point of view, he would receive it better."
Calleigh finally conceded and nodded her head slowly, " Okay, Horatio. But if you want to talk to him, you are going to have to find him. He split after out little 'discussion'. I don't know where he is."
" Don't worry about that, Calleigh, I'll find him. Now what's this business about Hagen? Did he assault you?"
Calleigh tried to hold in her surprise, but was failing at it. How could Horatio have possibly known about what happened, she was alone with him in the corridor.
" No, I got away from him before it could escalate. I think he's got the picture," Calleigh responded, hoping that she was exuding the strength that she once had.
" Let me know if he approaches you again," Horatio said as he turned to leave. He stopped at the door with his back to her. He felt like he had started inroads to make amends for what had happened, " You hang in there ,okay?"
Calleigh nodded, feeling a fresh round of tears starting behind her lids. He had said the same thing to her right before Tim's funeral, the memory burning through her mind, " I will, Horatio. Thanks."
With that, Horatio pushed through the doors of the firearms lab, heading for the elevators. Once in the sanctity of the small space, Horatio wiped the tears from his eyes. His own memories of Speed still haunting him.
TSJ
Timothy eyed H as he shoved the key into the knob and fought to open the door. When he burst into the small store, Timothy eyes went wide as he saw the antique musical instruments that were in glass cases. The modern instruments were displayed throughout the store, but the antique ones were the obvious favorites. He walked through the store silently, seeing old clippings about different musicians, some dating back to the thirties. Timothy glanced back at H, noting that he was way too young to have clipped this out of the paper then turned his attention back to the clippings. They covered the wall, the old intermingling with the new, giving the store an historical feeling. As he continued to scan through the various clippings, his eyes froze on one picture. It was his dad. Timothy walked up to the board, reaching out to touch the clipping as he read the byline.
" Local police help rebuild antique music store," Timothy read softly. He continued to look at the picture of his dad sitting at the piano, smiling.
" I told you that he was the greatest on or off duty," H said as he came behind Timothy. " He loved to play the piano."
" I know. He had a tough job, so the piano helped him to relieve what he saw daily. Just like the drums does for me."
"So he brought the set for you? You any good?"
"I'm okay. I practiced everyday the first week that I got it. It was never work for me, I enjoyed it. He made it fun."
" He had a way of doing that," H said as he reminisced. " A lot of people saw the sarcastic side of him, but I saw a different side , a side that he didn't trust with many people. When he came around, he was happy, talkative. He said that people thought that he was a smug, sarcastic son of gun, and he was happy to let them keep on thinking that."
" Yeah, that sounds like him," Timothy said as he finally broke his gaze with the clipping and walked over to the supplies. He eyed the new drumsticks, and thought of his worn out ones at home. H passed him and walked behind the counter and took them out.
" You need new sticks?"
" Mine are kinda worn out. How much are they?"
" Twenty bucks. But for Speed's kid, nothing," H said as he handed the sticks over to Timothy, who took them. He twirled them in his fingers a moment then stopped. He then turned them over back to H, shaking his head.
" No, I can't."
" Why not? It's a gift," H said as he put a hand up to push the sticks away.
" I want to earn the things that I get. I don't like hand outs."
" Earn , huh?" H said as he smirked at him, " As you can see, the place is in need of help. How about I give you a job, and your first payment will be these sticks."
" A job?" Timothy asked as he looked H in the eyes. Almost thirty minutes ago, he was a stranger to this man, now he was being offered a job, something he'd been wanting since turning sixteen.
" Yeah, sure. You can come in after school and help me clean up the place and look after it . Whaddya say?"
Tim thought about it for a moment then nodded his head vigorously. He could definitely use something to keep himself busy.
" I'll take it."
" Good, and maybe on the weekends, you can come by the club and watch me play."
" Play? What do you play?"
" An assortment , but I favor the piano."
" You're kidding me, right?" Timothy said as he smiled widely. " You any good?"
" You want to find out?" H said as he walked from behind the counter top. " The club is right across the street over there. I got a piano and a drum set on stage right now. You game?"
" Are you sure you can keep up?" Timothy quipped.
" I thought you said that you were just okay," H said as he walked quickly to the door. He had waited for so long to get back behind the ivory white keys.
" I was being humble," Timothy quipped as he followed him out the door.
" Sounds like you are being boastful to me," H returned, smirking as they crossed the street. Getting there, H quickly unlocked the door and opened it, turning on the lights as he closed the door behind Timothy and locking it.
Timothy let his eyes roam the building, seeing several chairs and tables scattered through out the vast room. He walked into the middle of the room noticing the bar to his left and a darkened stage in front of him. He looked to the piano, imaging his father sitting behind it , playing. He smiled , feeling a stinging behind his eyes, as the lights popped on the stage. Wiping his eyes, he saw the sterling white drum set, gleaming in the spotlight.
" Okay, Krupa, you ready?" H said as he stood beside him. Timothy took off his jacket and walked up to the stage with his new sticks in hand. He marveled at the set for a second before he took his seat behind it.
" Anything in particular?" Timothy asked as he twirled the sticks in his fingers, his eyes closed.
" Whatever you can pull out, I'll follow," H said as he lifted the cover of the piano. He stretched his long fingers and watched the young man as he continued to twirl , with his eyes closed. When Timothy lifted his head, H knew that he was ready.
Timothy began slowly, hearing the piece that he had just made that afternoon. Soon he heard the piano accompanying and he closed his eyes against the tears that had formed behind his eyelids. He squeezed his eyes harder, making the tears drop out of them, blazing a trail down his face. He hadn't heard a piano mixed with his drums since his father had died. H followed his beats effortlessly, as his fingers lightly danced over the keys. They played for almost an hour, changing up songs without even stopping. When they were finished, Timothy was sweating profusely, but he felt like a million bucks. Playing with H on the piano, had completed him.
H walked over to the bar and grabbed two bottles of water and a towel for Timothy. Timothy took the bottle and the towel and nodded his thanks.
" I stand corrected," H said as he opened the bottle, " You are more than just okay. That was fantastic. Have you ever written any music?"
" My dad brought me a computer program that writes the music as I play. I have a notebook full of pieces that I have done. Just foolin' around."
" That what you did up there, was not just foolin' around , Speed. That was pure genius," H said as he took a swig of the water.
Timothy dropped his head suddenly and gazed at the floor, the pain of sadness creeping up on him.
" Hey, what's the matter? It's true..."
"It's nothing , really," Timothy continued. " It's just that no one has ever called me Speed. That was my father's nickname."
" I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to..."
" No , H, it's alright, I kind of like it," Timothy said as he finally looked up at him.
" The way that you played those drums, I'd say that it fits you ," H said smiling at the young man ,"just like it fit your dad."
" Well I am his son," Timothy returned , a little sarcastically , as he took a drink. He hadn't felt this good in years. He liked the feeling that had surfaced, it made him viable again. He looked at his watch and then to the darkness that had permeated the Miami skyline and jumped up quickly.
" Hey , where's the fire?"
" I gotta go, my mom's gonna have a cow," Timothy said as he raced to his jacket and put it on quickly. He held the sticks tightly in his hand as he glanced back at H , who had gotten up and walked off the stage, " See ya tomorrow?"
" Yeah. What time do you get out of school?"
" Whenever," Timothy said shrugging his shoulders.
" Whenever? Sounds like you're cutting class. That ain't right," H said as he shook his head.
" I don't happen to like school at the moment," Timothy replied as he smirked.
" No more cutting class, Speed. You wanna work here, you gonna do it right."
" H,..."
" I'm serious man. You've got to get your education. It's the most important thing you'll ever do."
Timothy chuckled lightly at this conversation. This would be something that a father would say to his son. But he conceded and nodded his head, " Alright, alright, my last class is dismissed at three."
" Then be here at three fifteen," H said as he opened the door and held it. " Any earlier and it's lights out."
Timothy laughed and paused to look at him, then offering his hand, " Thanks , H."
" Hey, don't mention it, Speed. See you tomorrow. And be careful going home."
" Maybe tomorrow, I can see the other Ducatis," Timothy said as he let his hand go.
"Oh, yeah. I completely forgot about that. Yeah, I'll show you my babies before you get to work."
Timothy smiled widely and walked out the door, feeling like the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He started his bike and raced through the streets of Miami, hoping that his mother would still be at work.
TSJ
Calleigh sat in the darkened living room, as the television played, her attention obviously somewhere else. She had come home from the lab later on in the evening to see that Timothy had not come back. As she sat on the couch, her emotions at first ranged from calm, to angry when she noticed how late it was, then finally to worry. He had never been out this late, even on the worst of occasions. With her legs tucked in behind her, she had tried to watch the tv , but her concern for her son had outweighed the forensics show that she had found, and she abandoned the attempt at following it. Sitting in her solitude, she felt her heart breaking at the thought of the conversation, her son's words being etched on her brain.
" you let him die..."
Calleigh wiped the tears as she spoke out, her voice seeming loud in her own ears, " Oh Tim, I'm sorry, so sorry..."
Soon ,she heard the familiar sounds of the Ducati's engine as it pulled up the drive way. Calleigh bolted out of her seat and raced to the door, opening it, just as he was putting his key in the lock. She furiously switched on the light as he entered the home, thankful that he was alright.
" Timothy James Speedle, where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?" Calleigh asked as she glared at her son. Something in his eyes had caught her attention.
" I told you that I was going out, mom," he returned easily.
" Yes, but I expected you at a decent hour. Honestly, Timothy, I don't know what to do with you anymore. I've tried my best..."
" Mom, I'm sorry," he said as he gazed into her eyes. Calleigh was genuinely shocked when she saw the softness of his eyes and as the warmness, that had vacated long ago, returned. It was a far cry from what she had experienced earlier. " I've got to get to bed, school in the morning you know."
"Timothy, ..."
" Mom, I'm tired. Can I just go to bed?"
"No, I want to talk about this," Calleigh said as she put her hands to her hips.
" Tomorrow, mom. I promise, we'll talk," he replied as he started to ascend the stairs.
" Horatio asked to speak with you about what's been going on. I expect that you will do so."
"Mom,..."
" Enough, I want you to meet with him after school tomorrow."
" After school? Can't it wait until tomorrow night? I've got something to do," Timothy said as he stopped on the stairs.
" After school, tomorrow, got it?"
Timothy nodded his head and went upstairs , leaving a stunned Calleigh staring up at the empty stairs. What had just happened?
TBC...
A/N: for those that didn't know, Krupa is Gene Krupa, a kick ass drummer from the forties and fifties. He is what some would call the best. I just happened to agree:) R&R please...