Chapter 9

AN: Thank you all again for the reviews. I'm glad you're all so willing to be patient, and I hope this will tide you over for a little. Oh, and I'm also kind of glad you all think the cats are great! Speed just seems like a cat person to me.
He went careening through the lab at just under top speed in an effort to get to the computer as quickly as he could. He just needed to know.

Swinging around the corner, he almost plowed into Horatio before the older man reached out to grab his arm to stop him. "Whoa, there, Speed. What's going on?"

Tim shook his head, waving frantically towards the trace lab and the computer within. "I got it, I got it, I just have to find it," he said, pulling away and entering the trace lab.

Horatio followed and leaned against the counter as Tim feverishly typed terms into the departmental records search engine. "Hialeah…Megan…Frank…date," he said, stopping suddenly. "The date, the date…oh, hell."

"Hm?" Horatio said, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know…I was a Level One, but I don't remember…what year," he said, frowning, staring at nothing. "Twelve years gone…and then, and then…" he trailed off, thinking. Twelve years gone, and then a year and some lost. Then he'd come to Miami and Megan had talked him into going back to school, and he'd spent 18 months getting his degree. Then a couple of months being an intern, and then…had he passed the Level One right after that? "I was with Bridget yet, and you…were still with CSI," he said, looking over at Horatio. "You'd gotten pissed at me because I screwed something up, that's why Megan was training me," he said, realizing. "And that was in the spring, because I remember….Bridget had… left by the end of the summer, and I was….95? Was it 95?" he mumbled, entering it into the computer. Nine years ago? Had he really been a CSI nine years?

Ping. There it was, on the screen. "Yes, yes, that's it," he said, nodding. "It was a serial, but we didn't know it yet, because night shift had caught the first one and we didn't realize it until we caught the third."

Horatio leaned over to look at the screen. "Andrew Markham."

"Yeah, he was a sick bastard," Tim nodded. "I didn't like being in the same room with him, I remember now. He just…looked at me." He shivered, remembering how the man's eyes had seemed to undress him.

Horatio nodded. "I remember." He flicked past a few screens. "He was convicted, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," Tim agreed. "We had a really good case after the third one, he got sloppy," he said, pulling up the convicted felon database.

"They always do," Horatio said.

"There he is," Tim mumbled, pulling the record up on the screen. "Convicted in 1996, sentenced to life…oh, hell," he said, pointing at the screen. "Paroled, August 2004".

"Well, that's interesting, isn't it?" Horatio said.

Tim shook his head in disbelief. "I…" he trailed off. His chest felt funny, like there was a giant weight on it. It was hard to breathe, suddenly. He couldn't figure it out. That case hadn't been something that he'd thought about much. He really wasn't all that upset about Markham getting parole. It happened all the time. Markham wasn't one of his nightmares, the criminals who really scared him. A sick bastard, yes, but if he got worked up over all the sick bastards he saw…

He doubled over, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Speed?" Horatio asked, concerned.

"I'm…it's ok," he managed to gasp out, as he tried to straighten up. Falling apart in front of Horatio was not something he wanted to do. It was one thing to do so in front of Calleigh or Alexx or even Eric. All they could do was pester him to death. Horatio could put him on leave.

Horatio put a hand on his back. "Easy, Speed, easy. Take a deep breath now, all right?" he said, gently.

Tim took a deep shuddering breath around the sudden lump in the back of his throat. His eyes stung. Oh, God, not here, not now, nothere, notnow…. He'd identified it, now. Knew what was happening.

I told you, you can't avoid it forever.

Not now…Oh, please, not now.

He took several breaths, forcing the tears back and the lump away from his throat, reasserting some semblence of control. "I'm ok," he croaked.

Horatio frowned. "You want to tell me what that was about?" Tim shook his head. "Not good enough, Speed. Try again. You want to tell me what that was about?"

Tim took another deep breath, mind racing. I can't, I can't…

You can.

I really can't…Oh God.

It's easy, Timmy. You open your mouth and say, "My best friend died twelve years ago…"

Stop it.

"…. and I had a nervous breakdown…"

No. No, no, no.

"… and ran away for a year…."

I…don't….stop….

"…and I never got over blaming myself…"

…stop…please

"…and I never quite figured out how to live."

"No!" he burst out. "No," he said, more quietly. "I can't, H, really, I can't," he babbled.

"All right," Horatio said gently. "All right." He looked at Tim, speculatively.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Horatio's eyes on him. Horatio could probably drag it out of him if he tried hard enough. But Tim wasn't sure if there would be anything left when he was done.

"Tim. Look at me." He opened his eyes, reluctantly. "Good. Listen to me. You have not been yourself this week."

He knew. He tried to look away, but Horatio's hand reached out and forced him to look back.

"You've been out of it, and you've worked yourself into a state of exhaustion."

"I slept…" his protest died on his lips at the look Horatio gave him.

"You're exhausted. And you're manic. You're a danger to yourself and anyone around you in the field, and I can't have that. I can't let you go out there and place yourself and your teammates in danger. I can't do that, and furthermore, I won't do that. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good," Horatio said. "I don't like to do this, but I really think it might be best for you to take some time away."

"No, please, H. I can do this, I really can. I promise," he said, frantically. Don't take my job away…

"Speed…Tim…look at you. You can barely sit up straight. You're heading for a breakdown and I won't have it. I need you too much," Horatio said.

"I know, I know, but just give me another chance, ok? I swear, I can get it together," he said, pleadingly.

Horatio sat silently for a moment, regarding Tim, who tried his best to look together and sane. "All right," he sighed. "This is what we're going to do. Since you seem to have made a breakthrough here on this case, I am going to let you pursue it for now. However," he said, sternly, "you are grounded to the lab for the rest of the week. You are not to go out into the field. If, for some reason, your specific presence is required at the scene, in my judgment, then I will accompany you to the scene. Otherwise, you are here, in the lab. You will not leave the building without my knowledge. You will go home at 6PM, no excuses. And you will not come back until 7AM tomorrow morning. You will leave again tomorrow at 6PM. You will take all of your breaks, including full lunch breaks. You will not work over the weekend- you won't even take anything home with you. If the case is still active as of Monday morning, we will revisit the matter then. But," he said, raising a finger, "if on Monday, I feel that you are still a danger to yourself and to the team, you will be placed on medical leave until a mental health professional clears you to return. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he whispered, looking away.

"Look at me," Horatio commanded, reaching out to turn his face towards him. "This is your one chance, Tim. This is all you get. If you can't get it together by Monday, that is it. I can't give you more than this. Asking for help will definitely be a point in your favor. If you can't sleep, I expect you to tell someone so we can do something about it. If someone needs to stay with you this weekend to ensure you rest and don't work, then that is what we will do. I am giving you this chance because I think you can pull yourself out of this, but I do not believe you can do it alone. You need to tell us what you need. Do you understand?"

Tim squirmed, but nodded.

"Good," Horatio said, releasing his chin. "Now, did you eat breakfast?" He shook his head no. "All right then, let's rectify that first," Horatio said, standing up. "Come on, I'll buy."

Tim let Horatio lead him out of the lab, aware that he really had little choice in the matter.