Title: Misdemeanors

Disclaimer: Violence, language, angst, slash.

POV: Speed

Chapter Fourteen: Ramblings of a Mad Man

I hear the faintest sounds of mumbling voices. The beeping in my ears has hit a steady frequency. A few minutes ago I lost sight of the road by which I sat and all the people walking around on the sidewalk. Fingers gently brush against my arm, creating a tickling sensation. Someone or something is able to touch me. I struggle to open my eyes and I'm confused when I do. The light around me is bright and everything is white. Has my spirit let go, after going back to the place where my life began to end? Does that mean I'm in heaven seeing the bright light people are always talking about?

A hand firmly grasps mine. "You have no idea how happy I am to see those chocolate brown eyes gazing into the world again."

I turn to my right to see blond-haired Calleigh standing there, looking at me with a smile that could light-up Vegas at night. "What…the…"

She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "The doctor said you might have some trouble remembering what happened when you woke up. Do you want me to fill you in?" She asks sweetly.

"Where?" Is the only word I can manage to get out.

"We're in the hospital; you got hit by a car two days ago, Timmy. Turns out that was a good thing," she says in a voice that is way to chipper.

"How?" My voice is hoarse and comes out a mere whisper. The smells of the sterile room begin to fill my brain with unhappy memories.

"Well, the bullet that they left lodged by your spine? Seems they really should have taken that out. Had I taken a closer look at the bullet instead of the gun I would have seen right away that the one in you should be removed. The bullets are sort of old and happen to have a high lead consistency," she drawls. "Now, usually it takes a while for the lead to have any affect on the system, about a few years should have gone by before it started showing up in lethal amounts in your system. However, you'd recently had surgery and for some reason thought it would be fun to nearly get hit by a car while playing in the rain..."

"Calleigh…"

My pitiful cry of her name stops her from talking. The detective in her realizes that I just want her to get to the bottom line. "To make a long story short, you had a nasty infection that got worse with the lead. Then you got hit by the car, of course."

"How bad?"

"There's a hairline fracture to your knee and you took one hell of a hit on the head. A few ribs were broken; one just slightly punctured a lung. The last two days you were in a coma. The doctors kept telling us that you would be fine if you would just wake-up. So," she sighs, "what took you so long to come back?"

"I died," I reply bluntly.

The smile disappears from her face and the light in her eyes dims. Even her grip on my hand lightens a little. "What are you saying, Tim?"

I let go of her hand. "Nothing. I'm tired." With that I turn onto my side, feel the pain shoot throughout my body, and do my best to ignore it well I pretend to fall asleep. I hear the door close a few minutes later as Calleigh leaves me alone with the thoughts in my head.

Had that all been a dream? Everything had felt so real. The feeling of emptiness and despair still sit on the edge of my heart, waiting to jump back in and make me feel awful. The stories told by the newspapers were believable in the fact that I had died here, in this hospital, just shortly after arriving. Why would I have a dream that left me shivering? That left me afraid to even talk to someone I considered family? Had my mind finally given me what I had been wanting for the last few weeks? I kept telling myself that they would be fine without. That they wouldn't even miss me if I just up and walked away. Now I know differently. They are my friends; they need me as much as I need them. Too bad it came to this, but at least I still have time to right things. At least, I hope that I do.

The door opens again. I'm still trying to figure out what's happening so I don't turn over to see who it is; instead, I continue to pretend I'm sleeping. The air around me shifts with the movement of a human. I can feel their presence as they walk around the bed and stop in front of me, most likely studying my face.

"I know you're faking it, Timothy," Horatio says quietly. "I'm content with leaving you alone for now but you gave Calleigh a pretty good scare and I want to know why."

I open my eyes to gaze upon the red-haired blue-eyed man that is my boss. Over the years he has become more than that; he's become a mentor, an older brother, a close friend, and even a father figure. How could I believe that he would just trade me in for someone else? The history between us was nothing anyone could erase. We'd always had each other's backs. And now I'd gone and let him down.

"Sorry," I mumble. My voice has grown a little stronger.

"For what?" He asks me innocently.

"Letting you down like I did." Shame fills my voice and makes me feel even worse.

He smiles that trademark smile of his. The one he uses on the victims to put them at ease and makes them believe fully in the promises he makes them; promises that he always keeps. "You've never let me done, Tim, never."

I roll onto my back, my siding having gone numb with pain. Calleigh had mentioned something about broken ribs. Now I guess I know which ones were broken. "The whole thing Ryan was uncalled for, everything I've done lately has been uncalled for."

Horatio pulls an old wooden chair close to the bed and sits in it. "It's partially my fault. I should have given you more warning about Ryan's new job. The department thought it would be best, since you had suffered a recent set back. I let you fly off the hand because I saw the way you were hurting. The last thing I really wanted to do was to sit you down and yell at you."

I try to laugh but it comes out more like a choking sound. "Next time, just yell at me, please?"

"There won't be a next time, hopefully. I fear they'd have me fire you," he frowns. "Anyway. What is it that you said to Calleigh to scare her so?"

I chew my lip. Can I trust Horatio with the dreams that plagued my mind? I know he'll never tell another soul but what if he thinks I'm unfit for my job and sends me to see a shrink? There's only one way to find out. "I died, H, in the last two days I've been dead. Only, I was gone for one day."

"Please make that a little clearer, you've lost me already," he says.

"Calleigh said that I have been out of it for two days. Well, in my mind it was only a day, time really wasn't present there though, and I was dead. I'd gone to the lab to talk to you about getting my job. You had newspapers all over you desk talking about me, the CSI who died at the hospital after being hit by a car. So I said my goodbyes to everyone and returned to the scene of the crime. Only, when I got there everything became fuzzy. That's when I woke up here," I explained. Let him think me crazy, at least I've gotten it off my chest. At least now I can get a second opinion.

"Sounds to me like your mind was trying to sort out the events of the accident and got them mixed up the thoughts of your depression. Trust me," he says, "you're very much alive."

He stands to leave, mumbling something about me needing real rest, and that I shouldn't pretend to sleep. He gives my hand a gentle pat, telling me that I still have a job at the lab when I get better. Seems he never told anyone about the conversation we had.

"H," I call when he's standing by the door, "how are the others?"

"Happy to know that you've woken up. I think Delko might give you the yelling that you need. He's been pretty upset. Even Ryan has been quiet and distant these past two days," he replies.

Once the room is empty again I settle in for some much needed work. My brain is still confused, still trying to figure every thing out. I'm happy to be alive. I'm happy to have a job at the lab. But most of all, I'm happy that I still have friends and knowing that they were there all along.