Title: Love Apart

Disclaimer: Slash. Angst.

POV: Speed

Chapter Two: Down A Dark Road

I drive for nearly half a day. My mind is plagued with worries and doubts. Part of me wants to head back home. I can't run back to Horatio. That would be a sign of weakness.

Street signs flash by. Falling further and further apart. The mountains grow larger in front of me. I am looking for a driveway. I was told it would be marked by a street sign reading Forensic Ave. Apparently it is 'the thing' to do in this weird town; marking long driveways with street signs.

I drive another hour before I come upon my turn off. The dirt driveway looks more like a hurried afterthought than a real driveway. As though the construction workers forgot about it until it was almost too late.

Sighing, I take the turn. The Hummer is a good thing to have with all the potholes in the dirt road. If the road is this bad, what is the house going to be like?

I know in a few minutes. The house is a one story vacation home. It is covered in light blue siding. The wooden front porch seems newly stained. The yard and gardens are up kept. A garage to the right of the house looks brand new. A basketball hoop hangs from it. I park the H2 next to the garage.

My heart beats faster as I step out of the car. Is there a car in the garage? Or am I alone? I don't want to be alone. Not now, not after my long drive.

On the front door is a note. My heart sinks. I rip it from the door.

Timmy,

Went out to get a few things. Including dinner. Make your self at home. I'll be back soon.

Dying to see you,

Your Lover.

I crumple the note in my hand. How soon is soon, I wonder.

Inside I find dirty dishes in the sink. A pot of cold coffee sits on the counter. On a chair in the dining room is a gray T-shirt. Someone has been here and would return soon.

I leave my suitcase at the end of the bed. A hot shower sounds really nice all of a sudden. Imagine my surprise when I find a not taped to the shower door.

You'll probably want to shower after your long drive. If you feel you have to, go a head. But I wish you'd wait for me.

The idea makes me smile. Waiting would be nice but I feel dirty. Maybe the hot water would wash the worries away.

After the shower I dress in a pair of blue sweat pants and a plain white T-shirt. I am still alone.

My cell phone beeps alerting me to a message. It's from Horatio, probably checking up on me. I place the phone back on the kitchen table without listening to the message.

I go to the fridge and fish out a bottle of water. The cool water is almost as refreshing as the hot water from my shower. The silence begins to rush in and choke me. Outside, I need fresh air.

The twilight air is cool. Silence tries to creep in. But birds continue to sing. Crickets have come out early. In the distance a person is mowing their lawn.

I grab a basketball off the porch. Playing ball will keep me occupied. No way am I listening to the silence. Or giving in to the thoughts in my head. I start playing, making dunk after dunk. Sweat soaks into my shirt. So I take it off. Using it like a rag I wipe at the sweat. I toss it aside. A snatch of red catches my eye.

My shirt has blood on it. I check my chest. My gunshot wound has re-opened. Great, I sigh.

Back inside the clock tells me I have been here for two hours. And I am still alone. What ever happened to 'soon' meaning soon?

I go from the bathroom to the kitchen looking for a first aid kit. There isn't one. On some sort of impulse I snatch a knife from one of the drawers.

I take a seat at the kitchen table. The knife I place in front of me. The sharp blade shines with the rays of the dying sun that slips through the window.

My phone begins beeping again. The unexpected sound makes me jump. It is Horatio yet again. A good friend checking up on another? Or is it something else? I delete the message without listening to it. I want to run from my Miami life. My old world. Run from who I am.

Nervously I wipe my brow. Blood slowly trickles from the re-opened wound. My mind is growing dark. There is no one here when I need them most. I feel the tears begin to carve a path on my face. Little by little I am falling apart. I still am not able to deal with what had happened. My hand clasps the knife handle.

"Timmy?"