Chapter 4
AN: this is the first chapter that had not been part of All These Things (see Chapter 1 AN). Again, I am sorry for the confusion...
Hold on
Hold on
We're on
Our way
I'm not falling apart
"Not Falling Apart", Maroon 5
Horatio squared his shoulders and took a deep breath before walking into the room where Yelena sat with Eric's parents. He really did hate telling people their loved one was gone. This, though, this was harder than almost anything. It was even harder than telling Yelena that Ray was dead. He'd been so numb that he hadn't been feeling anything that day. He wasn't numb now. Now, he was reeling with pain. His hands were unsteady as he sat down across from Mrs. Delko.
"Mr. and Mrs. Delko, I have some…difficult news," he began softly.
Eric's mother looked up at him, her eyes already read. "My son, he's dead, isn't he?" she asked.
Horatio blinked, taken aback. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he said finally. "How did you…"
"There's precious little else that would make someone bring us here to wait," Mr. Delko interrupted. "If he'd been injured, they'd have sent us to the hospital, no?"
Yelena nodded. "Yes, we would have."
"So then," Mr. Delko nodded, his arm around his wife.
"Was it…did he…did my boy suffer?" Mrs. Delko asked, hesitantly, as though she was afraid of the answer.
"No," Horatio said, with certainty in his voice. "Eric didn't suffer. It was very fast. He probably didn't even know it was happening," he explained,
"A blessing, then," she whispered, as her husband tightened his arm around her. "Can we…is it possible to see him?"
Horatio sent a questioning look at Yelena who nodded. "I think that could be arranged, if you like. It would be down in the medical examiner's lab, though, and he wouldn't be…cleaned up, perhaps," he warned.
"That is okay," Mr. Delko said. "We just want to see him."
"I will go see what we can do, then," Horatio said, nodding. "Please know, I am so very sorry."
"Thank you," Mrs. Delko whispered.
Horatio nodded and left the room. He went down to the morgue, and found one of Alexx's collegues standing over Eric's body. "Mark."
"Lieutenant Caine. I'm so sorry," Mark Hingle said, turning to greet him.
"Me too," Horatio said, his lips tightening as he looked down at Eric. "His parents would like to see him," he said finally. "Can you…"
"Of course," Mark replied. "Give me ten minutes, I'll get him presentable. I'm not even sure we really even need an autopsy here, but it's procedure."
"Yes," Horatio said, shortly. "I'll bring them down." He turned away and walked back upstairs to the room where the Delkos sat.
The hardest thing in the world, he thought later, was watching someone see death. The Delkos had handled seeing Eric as well as anyone could. He'd assured them that the body would be released in the morning and asked them to let him know if there was anything he could do. They'd gone blinking out into the sunset, leaving him alone in the cool darkness of the lab. Yelena was leaning against a wall, watching him. "Horatio," she said, tentatively.
"I'm fine," he said, automatically.
"You should sit," she said.
"I'm fine," he repeated, staring at the window.
She was silent, but he could feel her eyes on him. "Should I leave you alone?" she asked finally.
He nodded. "Please."
"All right," she said.
"I'm sorry," he said, turning towards her, "It's just…"
"It is all right," she said. "Just know that if I can help, I will."
"I know. Can you maybe check on Frank, see if anything's come up yet?" he asked.
"Of course," she said.
He watched her leave, walking deeper into the lab. His hands still shook. He looked down at them, trying to will them to be still. He had to be strong yet. There was still work to be done. The traces of Tim's blood caught his eye and he shuddered. It was all he could do to get to the men's room before nausea overtook him.
He sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with a bit of toilet paper. Taking a few shaky deep breaths, he closed his eyes and rocked up to his feet, leaning on the side of the stall. No one was in the bathroom, thankfully. He flushed and went to the sink, where he washed his still shaking hands. The blood was still there, around his nails. He scrubbed his hands almost raw with the harsh soap, his breath catching in the back of his throat. His hands were red and almost scalded when he finally felt clean enough to turn off the water. He held on to the sink, shaking and weak-kneed, looking up to see his face in the mirror. His face was pale, and his eyes and cheeks were red and blotchy from the effort of not crying. His breath was shallow as he tried to pull himself together. Time passed unheeded, before he took a deep shaky breath and straightened. He splashed cool water on his face, wincing at the feel of the coldness on his hands. His face looked a bit better now, he decided, examining his reflection again. His chin jerked up defiantly. There was still work to do. He'd best be about it already.
