Title: Love Apart

Disclaimer: Slash. Angst.

POV: Speed

Chapter Six: Sex Crime

I sit at a café in New York. A cup of coffee sits on the orange table in front of me. Something keeps me from returning to Miami. Just can't do it.

I keep getting weird looks from the other patrons. Doesn't surprise me any. Wouldn't you get suspicious of someone climbing out of a Hummer marked Miami-Dade Crime Lab in a New York city? No, I not here for work, but they don't know that. I smile to myself. I know my badge is in my back pocket and my gun is in a holster hidden by my shirt. Never leave home without them; it is a habit that I find hard to break. In my line of work, who knows when I will need them?

An elderly couple sitting at a table across from me keeps giving me worried glances. I continue to drink my coffee. Let them be worries. They call their waitress over and say something, pointing at me. Great, the waitress heads my way.

She looks about seventeen or eighteen. Her brown ponytail bounces as she comes to my table.

"'Scuse me sir," she giggles, "but that couple over there is under the impression that you have a gun."

I say nothing, just reach for my badge. The waitress's eyes grow large as she sees my gun. I drop my badge on the table. She just stands there. So I pay for my coffee, pick up my badge, and leave.

My mind is full of jumbled thoughts. Delko's love for diving. Calleigh and her knowledge of guns. The understanding manner of Horatio. Yelina's accent. Danny's soft skin and Nick's strong arms.

I rest my forehead on the steering wheel. I miss them all. I want to be with all of them. Yet, at the same time I want to keep running from them.

Someone honks their horn, impatiently. I haven't even been in the H2 for two minutes and someone already wants my spot. What in the hell had possesses me to come to New York? Danny isn't here, so why am I?

I drive around for awhile before stopping at the Park. The day is sunny and warm. Like Miami. People mill about doing all sorts of things. Picnicking, playing Frisbee, skating, jogging; if you could do it outdoors, I see it here.

I am walking quietly, minding my own business when a man crosses my path. He is running so fast that I have to jump back or risk him running into me. He doesn't even acknowledge me as he runs pass.

A girl comes out of the bushes. Her clothes ware torn and she is crying. Blood slowly trickles from a cut above her left eye.

"Stop him," she screams. "He raped me!"

I take one look at her and run after the guy. He checks over his shoulder. Seeing me pursuing him causes him to run faster.

He dodges a woman walking her dog. He pushes a young boy out of his way. The kid stumbles but doesn't fall. The rapist keeps running. He jumps into a fountain and is out the other side before I can catch him.

What he does next shocks me. He shoves a pregnant woman. She losses her balance and falls. Knowing full well that hard choices are part of my job, I stop to help her up.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"I…I think so." She brushes herself off. "I'm not bleeding and nothing appears broken."

"Good, good. Here," I take her arm and help her over to a bench. She promptly sits. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. My husband will be along soon. You go right on a head," she says sweetly.

I glance around the park looking for the man I had been chasing. He is long gone. The only thing I can think to do is return to the young lady who cried rape.

Someone has called the cops, thankfully. As I draw near the "crime scene" I can see a few cops, three or four CSI's, and two detectives. My approach gains more attention than I thought it would.

The black haired detective starts toward me. Suddenly he stops and pulls his gun. It points at me.

"Remove your weapon from the holster and place it on the ground," he demands.

I was not aware that my gun had become uncovered during the pursuit.

"Okay, okay," I say. Slowly I remove my gun and place it on the ground. To show my trustworthiness I kick the gun in his direction. Everyone is watching us now. Ready to shoot me if they have to. What a lovely thought.

I reach for my back pocket. "I'm not going for a weapon. Okay?"

He nods in understanding. I pull my badge out and threw it to him. He catches it. After checking it over he holsters his gun.

"Might I ask what a CSI from Florida is doing in New York?"

Running, I think. "On vacation. Kind of."

He hands me back my gun. The victim stands up, and pointing at me, shouts, "That's him. That's the man."

"You chased the suspect?" the detective asks.

"Yes. I got a fairly good look at him."

He smiles. "Well, Mr.-"

"Tim Speedle."

"Mr. Speedle, I'm Detective Elliot Stabler."