Title: Misdemeanors

Disclaimer: Angst, violence, slash, and language.

POV: Speed

Chapter One: Holding Me Down

Why does my head hurt? Why does my hand feel heavy? I rid my eyes of the sudden tiredness that overtakes me. It's only noon and I already want to go home. My ribs are sore. Sore from an old wound, or sore from my earlier stupidity? Is that why my head hurts? I flex the fingers of my left hand. They feel a bit awkward. Almost like they're going numb. What's wrong with me? I sneeze. I wipe my nose on my sleeve. I wonder if Calleigh has any aspirin to cut through the pain of my headache. I sneeze again. The soda can on the table topples over. The sound of tin hitting the floor echoes in my ears like a train horn. I shake my head. What the hell is wrong with me? I try to pick the can up with my left hand but it's not cooperating. Another sneeze hits me. The force is enough to knock me from my chair. I find myself kneeling on the floor. The soda can rolls under the table. I go to retrieve it.

"What are you doing down there?"

I whack my head on the underneath of the table. "Damn it," I swear. I come out from under the table rubbing my head with my left hand, holding the can in my right. "I dropped this," I explain.

Alexx looks at me. "Are you alright, honey?"

"For the most part. I have a headache. Do you have any aspirin?" I ask.

"Sure, I have some in my purse. I leave it in the Trace Lab for you." She pours herself a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," I say as she leaves the break room.

With a frown I throw the can in the recycling bin. The feeling in my fingertips is gone while the rest of my hand feels fine. I shrug my shoulders. Maybe it's a side affect of my headache. I sneeze. If I keep sneezing someone will hear me. They'll tell Horatio, and he'll send me home. I'm tired of being home. I'm tired of not being able to work. Why does everyone think I'm fragile? Yes, I took a bullet to the chest. Yes, it nearly killed me. But I'm still here. I'm still Speed. I'm always going to be me. So why is everyone treating me like a fragile flower? Why can't they just let me be? Treat me the way they used to?

I find the Trace Lab empty. Delko is gone. My watch tells me that it's twelve-o-five. That means that he's out having lunch. Probably with Calleigh. Why didn't they invite me? I grab the bottle of pills from the table. The aspirin goes down easily. The bottle is nearly empty so I pocket it. I'll buy Alexx a new, full bottle. She'll be happy.

There is no evidence for me to work with. It's all in the hands of other people. Technically it's also my lunch break. The door to the Trace Lab swings closed behind me as I walk down the hall. People are working all around me. Yet I don't see any of my team members. Not even Horatio. Hagen and Tripp are probably out to lunch. Or they could be off doing interviews.

I stop in front of some windows. The day is sunny once again. All traces of the earlier ran storm have dried up. You can't even tell that it happened. The sun beaming through the windows is warm on my skin, my dry clothes. I cross my arms as my headache dulls in pain. I close my eyes to enjoy the warmth of the sun. It fills me with a feeling of love. Of belonging. Things I haven't felt since that day. Nothing has been the same since that damn day. A sneeze comes along and ruins my mood.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder. "Getting a cold after your little stunt this morning?"

I turn to look at Horatio. He stands beside me, gazing out the window, his hands on his hips. "I'm fine, it's probably just some dust. People sneeze all the time. Doesn't mean they're getting sick," say. Why do I sound so defensive? Is it because I am?

Horatio smiles. "It's alright, Speed. I know you would tell me if something was wrong, you always do."

He looks troubled. H has been my boss for years now. We're the only two level 3 CSI's in the lab. We'd been at the job longer. Calleigh and Delko are family, Horatio and I are more. We understand each other. Sometimes words don't have to be spoken to get the message across. The other one just seems to know what needs to be done. Like a well oiled machine, we work together smoothly. Except for this morning. I know that Horatio had flashbacks. Seeing me, dying, holding me in his arms, telling me to hang on. I return my gaze to the bright sun.

"What's on your mind, H?" I ask.

He crosses his arms, mimicking my position. "I was going to ask you the same thing, Timothy. You haven't been acting like yourself lately."

Timothy, only H calls me that. And only when he's worried about me. Calleigh and Delko will occasionally call me Timmy. Everyone else calls me Speed. I've never understood why it is that way. Maybe I never will. Very rarely does Delko get called by his first name, and no one ever uses his last name. Calleigh's nickname, Cal, is about as popular as her name; both are used equally. Few people refer to Horatio as H; those people would be the ones he holds the closest. Others think that calling him 'H' is a sign of disrespect. I blink as a bird flies close to the window. Why am I thinking about name?

"I'm fine, you know that. Just trying to get back into the swing of things, that's all," I lie. My hand is still numb and my head still aches a bit.

"Tim, you took a big risk this morning-"

"I saw a piece of evidence. I couldn't let the rain wash it away," I defend.

Horatio smiles. He doesn't want us to argue. Something is on his mind. "I understand that. You're one of my best CSI's, Tim. I nearly lost you once and I don't want there to be a second time."

"There won't be a second time, H, and I'm sorry about the first time." Will I be apologizing for my mistakes the rest of my life? So I fucked up, doesn't everyone?

"This morning was the second time, Timothy. If Tripp and Hagen hadn't been standing with us, we never would have heard the officer's call for back-up. We never would have known that car was coming. You would have become part of the crime scene, Tim, and I can't have that."

"What are you saying, Horatio?" I ask. This time I concentrate on watching him.

"You're getting too risky, Tim. You can't be risky in this line of work. Risks get you killed-"

"Would you just say what is on your mind? I wasn't born yesterday, H. I know you better than anyone else."

He rubs a hand over his mouth. "I've been told by the higher-ups that you need to go. That they want you out of the lab. They think that you're a liability. I convinced them to give you one more chance. On one condition…"

I frown. "And what would that condition be? That I don't screw up again?" My voice is a bit louder than I like. Anger does that to me. It does it to everyone. Is my oldest friend about to fire me?

"Tim-"

At that moment a young man walks up to us. He's wearing a big smile and appears way too cheery to be in this lab. I bit my tongue to keep from being rude. This young kid shouldn't be interrupting us. It's rude. What right does he have to just walk around like this? The families aren't allowed in this area. How did he get pass security?

The kid waves at me. "Hi, I'm Ryan Wolfe. I'll be working with you." He sticks out his hand, expecting me to shake it.

I look at Horatio and know that he can read the hurt, anger, and disbelief written all over my face. Without another word I turn to walk away. I guess this is the one condition; my friend backstabbing me. I wish that I hadn't made it. I wish that I had died that day; and it's not the first time those thoughts cross my mind. They probably won't be the last.