Title: Misdemeanors

Disclaimer: Violence, language, angst, slash.

POV: Speed

Chapter Twelve: Ghostly Wanderings

I walk down the corridors of the lab. For once I was happy to get by the receptionist without her seeing me. I shouldn't be here and Horatio will have a fit when he does see me. But I don't care about that. My plan is for him to see me, see that I'm okay to come back to work. Those that I said before the accident, I hope he'll let me take them back. He'll understand that I was thinking properly. This job is my life, my very reason for existing. There is no greater joy in the world than seeing that smile on someone's face when you know that you've helped them. Maybe that's why Horatio has been at this job for so long.

The accident is behind me now. The whole dispute with Ryan can be worked out. Nearly dying opens so many doors. I feel like a cat with seven lives left and I want to spend those lives helping others by putting the criminals behind bars. I'm stronger now then I've ever been. Before coming into the lab I threw my cane in the trash. It screamed weakness to everyone who saw me. I'm not weak. I'm not someone who needs coddling.

As I pass by the Trace Lab I hear the voices inside and catch my name. I ease the door open a crack to listen to the conversation inside.

"Tell me, how did Speed end up in this job?" Ryan asks innocently.

Calleigh sighs. "I'll tell you the truth, I really don't know. Timmy liked keeping his past a secret. Part of me always thought he was running from something, or maybe someone."

"You're hiding stuff. You know more than you're letting on," Ryan accuses.

Calleigh rests her hands on the table. "Don't let this get out, but one of his friends died in an accident. Personally, I don't think he ever got over the loss, and I think that's what he ran from."

Ryan lets silence fall into the conversation. Normally I'm not too happy when people pick me as their conversation topic. The new me, though, thinks that this could be interesting. There's a chance that I could learn something, learn about how these guys see me.

"Do you think he took the job because he failed to help his friend?" Ryan finally says.

"It's a possibility. Does it really matter why he took the job? He was great at it," Calleigh says softly. "There was a special bond between him and Horatio, something that Delko and I have never had with the boss. Those two were extremely close."

Ryan puts a sample of some liquid into a machine for tests before speaking again. "I thought he was closer to Delko?"

"How to phrase this? What Horatio and Speed had was like a father/son-mutual goal-colleague thing. With Delko, it was always about girls and sports; more buddy-buddy. Why all the interest, Ryan?"

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to understand the great Timothy Speedle, that's all."

I ease the door closed, making sure that they don't hear it. I find it troubling that they're already talking about me in past tense. Has Horatio already told them that I quit my job? This thought ways heavily on me; if he's told them than he probably won't even fathom giving me my job back. Seems I may have fucked up big time. I let Horatio down and never thought about his feelings in this whole matter. What kind of friend am I?

And why the hell does Ryan have to go prying into my past? It's bad enough that I slept with the guy that one time, something I still haven't been able to shake. Love never made sense to me; things shouldn't be any different now. Ryan held some sort of fascination that attracted me to him like a moth to the light, and yet, I despise his being here, in this lab that has become my home. I'll have to make the extra effort to act nice to him, especially when Horatio is around. I can throw that in as a bargaining chip if H doesn't want to give me another chance. I move on from outside the Trace Lab shaking my head. What the hell am I thinking? Of course H will give me my job back. That's just the kind of caring person he is, and it wouldn't be bad of me to take advantage of that this one time.

When I tear my gaze away from the shiny tile floor I see Delko coming in my direction. His face is red and his eyes clouded with tears. There's blood on his shirt. I recognize the look in his eyes, a life was lost and he feels hopeless. I've been there, it's a horrible feeling. I flash him a sympathetic smile.

"Hey man, what's with the tears? Whatever happened to never showing the world your weaknesses?" I ask, bringing up the motto we often whispered to each other at particularly bad crime scenes.

He ignores me and breezes into the locker room. I frown. I can understand not wanting to talk about the issue at hand but did he have to be so rude? With a shrug of my shoulders I follow him with the loyalty of friend.

"Delko, buddy," I call as I open the locker room door.

A loud crash resounds throughout the otherwise silent room. Standing in the doorway I see that Delko has thrown the long wooden bench into the lockers. Now he's sitting on the floor, his head in his hand, his shoulders shaking as he cries.

"Who died?" I inquire. "Or did you lose a bet with Tripp again?"

Through the sobs he mumbles a name that never reaches my ears. Feeling uncomfortable I shuffle my feet. Delko never looks up, never says another word. I figure he just wants to be alone and turn to leave. Friends are good to have around when the world crumbles under you but sometimes, silence is the best healer. Not to disturb him, I make sure that the door is closed quietly.

My next stop is Horatio's office. The door is open so I just walk right in without saying anything. The boss is on the phone and he doesn't look to happy. In fact, he's almost a mirror image of Delko, only with a little more self composure. Various newspapers are scattered across his desk top. I figure that maybe he's looking over a headline of someone who died, the same person that Delko is mourning. He wouldn't mind me reading them while he finished his phone call, as long as I am quiet.

I lean over his desk and my heart nearly stops. The big bold type screams out at me. A paper from two days ago proclaims, Cop Hit By Car Dies at Hospital. Another one says, Life Cut Short for CSI. The paper from today catches my eye in particular, Lab Mourns Loss of Friend. Were the cop and the CSI the same person? Or were they two separate people that Horatio had met in his long career? I moved around the desk to read the story from today's paper.

Late Wednesday afternoon a member of law enforcement had his life taken away when he suffered major injuries after being hit by a car. The driver of the car claims that the officer stepped out into the road without looking. Various cameras in the area help to support this claim. Sources say that Timothy Speedle, a CSI with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, had been shot late last year and recovered from the near-death experience with a renewed interest in life. Two of his colleagues, Calleigh Duquense and Eric Delko, came across the scene on their return to the lab. Make-shift life saving techniques were used to keep Mr. Speedle responsive until the ambulance came. He later died in the hospital from internal injuries made worse by a nasty infection.

I stop reading before the article goes on to tell about my career achievements and most likely relay quotes from people who knew me. Now it all made sense to me. Why Ryan was so interested in my past and why they spoke of me in past tense. The reason Delko was crying. The reason why Horatio hasn't said a word to me even though he'd hung-up the phone. I'm dead. My heart breaks as I realize just how much I failed everyone.