Chapter 8

You in the sea
On a decline
Breaking the waves
Watching the lights go down
Letting the cables sleep

Whatever you say it's alright
Whatever you do it's all good
Whatever you say it's alright
Silence is not the way
We need to talk about it

"Letting the Cables Sleep", Bush

He walked through the bullpen to scoop up his parka and pulled it on as he walked out the back door of the station. There was a deck in the back of the parking lot that he'd seen from the window and he headed for it, shivering in the cold air as he zipped his parka and pulled on his gloves. His mind reeled so much he barely noticed that he was outside.

Thoughts chased each other around his brain, despite the fact they shouldn't be able to do that. Not after the Ativan Calleigh had made him take. Not with the antidepressants he was on. But they swirled and eddied like a snow flurry on an open road, ghosting across the black pavement. He shivered. Eric's gone and I don't…is that…blue tattoo, he had a blue tattoo, Eric didn't know, it's ok, it's ok, Speed, you're safe, I got you, but no, it's winter and no one's got me and he's gone and it's ice and snow and I left, I left to get away from this, and you gotta run, run away, and and and…I just want it to end, please let it all end go away stop thinking stop breathing and shouldn't have happened, shouldn't let them get so close make it harder I can't think…speak…do…go away, away far, far away…

I should have never come back…

A crunch under his feet told him that someone had salted the deck. He fetched up against the railing and looked out, unseeing and breathing hard. But then, something inside him broke, and he looked. The deck overlooked a small ravine with a tiny trickle of a creek. Every branch, every rock, everything was covered with a thin layer of ice and frost. The mist from the growing twilight softened all the edges. It was beautiful. I forgot, oh…oh, I forgot how pretty… Images from a half-forgotten childhood chased each other behind his eyes; glistening snow on a quiet street, drifts taller than he was, laughing as his Uncle Bryan showed him how to make a snowball, teaching Matt how to make snowman and feeling important that he knew. Snow forts and ice on Niagara Falls. How was it that he forgot all these things but remembered so many more? Twisting ice underneath him, skidding to a stop, thrown from the seat and sharp pain and dull numbness from the cold. No, don't, not…I can't. I can't. I can't tell real anymore, do you…nothing's real, everything's real, as real as anything is…what answer…none of it has an answer…how can you live with no answers….

Another crunch behind him told him he wasn't alone. He froze, listening, not wanting to let go of the railing for fear that he'd fall off the earth. "Speed?" Horatio's voice. He still didn't turn. "Speed, are you all right?"

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. He felt Horatio come closer as every nerve in his body sang fire and ice. Horatio stopped just inside of his peripheral vision and sat down quietly on a bench. "I'm just going to sit right here, ok? You tell me what you want me to do."

Still grabbing the railing with one hand…can't fall off…he twisted to face Horatio. "I forgot…" he said, his voice cracking. "I forgot it was pretty."

Horatio glanced out at the ravine. "It is pretty, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I don't like winter."

"I guessed," Horatio said.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Horatio's face was confused.

"I…told you that was the guy, but I really…I wasn't really sure," he admitted. "I…I don't really know anything anymore. But everyone was rushing around, doing their jobs and looking at me and I didn't know what to do."

"Oh," Horatio's face softened. "Speed, it's ok. Honestly. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you identify him."

"My job…It's…" he trailed off. "I should have been able to," he finished, quietly.

Horatio didn't say anything to that. Tim turned back towards the ravine, still feeling Horatio's eyes on him. The mists were deepening and starting to obscure the view. Somehow, that was a bit comforting.

"Speed?" Horatio asked, after what felt like a long time.

"Yes?" he asked, still looking out at the mist.

"Do you…this may not be the time to ask this, but do you want to go back to work?"

The question made his shoulders jerk. Somehow, Horatio had stumbled onto his second biggest secret. His breath caught in his chest and he closed his eyes. "I…I don't know," he admitted, finally. He opened his eyes again and looked down at his hands clenched on the railing.

"It's ok to not know," Horatio said. "It really is."

"I…" he shook his head. "Sometimes I miss it. Sometimes I never want to see the lab ever again. Sometimes I think I can't do it anymore, not now that everything is different."

"That's understandable," Horatio replied. "It is different, now. I won't lie to you about that."

"I'm scared," he whispered after another silence. "I'm really scared. I don't…I don't want to…I don't ever want to…I don't even know. I'm just…scared." He didn't have the words to explain.

Horatio seemed to think a moment. "What scares you the most?"

He frowned. It was so hard to sort out… "I think…I don't want to…it was really scary in the warehouse, all of it," he said in a rush. "Eric and Hagen and me shooting someone and…I don't ever want to do that again."

"Ah." Horatio said, in a tone of understanding. "You don't want to be in a position where something like that could happen again."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"That makes sense," Horatio said. "I've felt the same way before."

Tim shook his head. "You're stronger."

"I don't think that's true," Horatio replied. "I don't think that's true at all. I think I've been luckier, maybe, but I don't think I'm stronger."

"Maybe," Tim shrugged.

"You know," Horatio said after a moment. "Coming back to work doesn't necessarily mean going back into the field. You don't have to go to crime scenes if you don't want to. You can just work in the lab, if you'd feel safer."

He blinked and looked up. That had never occurred to him. "But…"

"But what?" Horatio asked.

"It doesn't seem fair," he said. "The lab is less work."

"It's not less work, it's different work," Horatio said. "Do Carrie and Valera do less work than you do?"

"Well, sort of," he said. Not that they were any less dedicated.

"Yeah, that was a bad example," Horatio said. "I found out just how much work you do, by the way."

He looked up at that, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Horatio chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Never mind," he sighed. "My point is, lab work is not less work. And even if it were, no one would think you hadn't earned the right to take a break."

"Mmm," Tim said. He shivered. It was growing colder as it got darker. His hands hurt. He let go, experimentally. When he didn't go flying off into space, he relaxed. Talking had slowed his brain down a little. He turned towards Horatio and gestured shakily at the bench. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course," Horatio said, sliding over to make room.

"Thanks," he said, dropping down on the bench. He rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned over to rest his head on his hands.

"You feel a little better?" Horatio asked.

"Maybe," he said. "It's hard to tell."

"You look a little better," Horatio said.

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing up.

"When I walked out here, you were so rigid I was afraid you were having a heart attack or something," Horatio explained.

"Oh. No. Just a panic attack," he sighed.

"I see," Horatio said. "Do you need something for that?"

He shook his head. "Not right now, no. Calleigh has the pills anyway."

"I wonder where she is. She said she was going to find a hotel, but she's been gone quite a while," Horatio mused.

He thought a moment. "She said something about a nap, but I don't know if she meant she wanted one or she thought I wanted one."

Horatio shrugged. "I don't know. You feel up to going back inside? It's getting really cold out here and we probably ought to find Calleigh."

He nodded and followed Horatio back across the parking lot to the station.