A/N: I'm still working on CSI: NY but this story also crossed my mind and I decided to try and get it out before it drove me crazy. I do not tolerate or advocate abuse in any form, but having been a victim of it, I can understand where the victims are coming from. R&R if you like please and thank you. Also, the story title is also an old Vince Gill song. If you haven't figured it out by now, I like Vince Gill's music.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I wish to own, any of the characters of CSI: Miami, except those created by me.
Savannah, Do You Ever Think Of Me?
Jane was working at the Reception desk when a young woman with short, pale blonde hair, dressed in street clothes and carrying a large duffle bag approached the desk.
"Excuse me?" the young woman asked hesitantly.
"Can I help you?" Jane asked, placing the girl in her mid to late teens.
The girl held out a well-folded newspaper clipping showing a very familiar red-haired Lieutenant Caine. "Does Lieutenant Caine work here?" the girl asked.
Jane noticed the girl seemed to have a heavy southern accent. "May I ask who's asking please?" she asked cautiously.
"H-hannah Peterson," the girl said, stammering nervously.
"Okay, Hannah, how about if I let him know you're here? Would you mind waiting?" Jane asked.
"No, not at all. Thank you, ma'am," Hannah said, tucking the news article back in her bag.
Jane quickly made the call and the Lieutenant promised her he'd be right there. Then Jane turned back to the visitor. "Whereabouts are you from, just out of curiosity?" she asked, trying to be friendly.
"I'm from Ladonia, Alabama, ma'am," Hannah admitted. "It's just outside of Phoenix City."
"Wow, you're a long way from home," Jane said.
"It's my first time in Miami and it's nothing like Alabama. You guys got oceans you can see for miles!" Hannah enthused.
Jane smiled. If it weren't for the fact that she was a bit wary of Hannah for Horatio's sake, she would really like the girl. "How long have you been in Miami?"
"Got in a couple of hours ago. It took me that long to get from the airport to here, never mind finding this place," Hannah admitted.
"Miami can be a bit confusing at first," Jane admitted.
"I know, but if it's one thing I'm really good at doing, it's figuring out maps, and, well, if you ask an officer nicely, they're usually quite happy to tell you where their crime lab is," Hannah said cheerfully.
"There is that," Jane admitted, grinning.
Just then, Horatio walked into the reception area and Jane watched as Hannah suddenly froze. Jane thought the girl looked absolutely terrified and was fighting with herself not to show it. What the heck was going on here?
"Sir, this is Hannah Peterson from Ladonia, Alabama," Jane said, quickly doing introductions.
"A pleasure to meet you, Hannah. I'm Lieutenant Horatio Caine, how can I help you?" Horatio asked.
"Um, I-I don't mean to be rude or anything, but-" Hannah gulped nervously "Is-is there a place where I could get some water? I'm, I'm not really used to Miami's humidity yet."
"Certainly, Hannah. This way," Horatio said, gesturing down the hall. He nodded towards Jane and was about to put his hand on Hannah's back when he saw her flinch at the raised hand. He wisely lowered it.
In the break room, Horatio poured Hannah a glass of cold water, which she drank gratefully. While the water was needed, it was also a stalling tactic as she tried to figure out how to introduce herself properly.
"Umm, I'm sorry, sir, about lying, but my-my real name is Savannah Abbot, not Hannah Peterson. We've-we've met before. Matter of fact, sir, we've been chatting on-line for about six months now. You know me as bamacountrygurl," she finally admitted.
Horatio leaned back against the wall thoughtfully, his mind quickly speeding up. "I remember you. As I recall, I never told you my name so how did you find me?" he asked.
"You mentioned you had red hair and that you worked for the Miami-Dale PD. I found an article in a national newspaper a couple months ago about a Lieutenant Caine of the MDPD. They had your picture in it and I quickly figured out that there really weren't that many red-haired officers for the MDPD, especially when you mentioned you had a science degree," Savannah admitted. "That suggested that you were part of the crime lab which narrowed things down quite a bit." She handed him the newspaper article and he glanced over it, momentarily glaring at the photograph of himself.
Horatio had to admit, after seeing the news article, that Savannah was very bright. But what possessed her to fly all the way from Alabama to Miami, just to meet someone she'd only been chatting with on-line? He asked her that.
"Well, umm, I, I-uh, wanted to get away from home, start over somewhere else, y'know? I'm, I'm a really good waitress and I'm, uh, sure I can get another job somewhere here," Savannah stammered, her face going red. Horatio just looked at her and quietly raised one eyebrow. "Look, I'm really, really sorry about imposing on you, but I just don't want to go home!" she burst out, nearly in tears.
"And why not?" he asked gently.
"What kind of home is it when your boyfriend uses you for a punching bag, just like your daddy does and nobody gives a damn!" Savannah shot back.
"Good point," he admitted.
"Can, can I, sh-show you something?" she asked tentatively.
"Of course," he said, placing his hands on his hip and, coincidently, near his gun.
Savannah, who had already set her bag down, turned around and, after taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, carefully lifted her shirt to her breasts. She knew what he would see; man-made bruising all along her back and reaching around to her front. She froze when she heard a snapping sound, and then she felt Horatio's hands on her back, but they were gentle and carefully examining her bruises. After a moment, those same hands gently raised her shirt higher to reveal the rest of the bruising. A tear slid down her face. She was so tired. It had been a very long flight from Phoenix City to Miami, not to mention the bus trip from Ladonia. And that last fight with her father had been a nasty one. Plus, she'd also fought with her boyfriend the night before. All in all, she just wanted to sleep for a few hours before she had to do anything else. She sincerely hoped Horatio could suggest a place to sleep that was relatively cheap as she still had some money left but not a whole lot. She would have to find a job soon.
After checking over her bruises, Horatio was concerned. He knew she was being abused; both the bruises and her mannerisms in Reception had clearly proven that. She was right, they had been chatting back and forth on-line and via e-mail for some time and he enjoyed doing so; the chat was clean and often funny; a form of stress-relief for him. And now that she was here, he had to admit she was a pretty young woman. However, she was a young woman who had escaped, if he was hearing things right, two abusive men. He had to admit, Savannah was a survivor. Somehow she'd come up with the money for a plane ticket from Phoenix City all the way to Miami just to meet someone she'd only spoken to on-line. However, Horatio knew abused women often grasped at straws in their desperation to survive. He had been, unintentionally, a ray of hope, a means of escape for Savannah. And now that she was here, well, the only logical thing to do was to try and help her get back on her feet. He only hoped his kindness didn't come around and bite him in the ass one day.
"You look exhausted," he said, gently tugging her shirt down. She turned around to face him, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Long flight and bus ride combined," she admitted.
"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked.
"No sir. I was hopping you could recommend a place that was cheap," she said.
"Well, I have a spare bedroom at my place. You are welcome to that for now until you can find a job and a place of your own," he offered. "However, my day is not yet done, so I offer you the use of the couch in my office for now."
"I-I don't want to impose on you, sir," she stammered out.
Horatio smiled warmly. "You're not imposing on me. Besides, my ballistics expert would have my head if I didn't at least offer," he admitted. "And please, call me Horatio. 'Sir' makes me feel like I'm dealing with other officers and you're not an officer."
"Why would your ballistics expert have your head, s-Horatio?" she asked, curious.
"Because she's a southern girl, just like you," he replied, grinning.
Savannah smiled back, still a bit nervous, as she considered her options. Okay, having a nap in his office wouldn't be so bad because it was in a public place. But after that, she'd just have to be very, very careful. Just because he seemed nice now, well, that could change once they were alone. Andrew, her boyfriend, had proven that to her repeatedly. "Okay, if you don't mind, then I would like to take you up on your offer for the couch, at least for a few hours," she said tentatively.
"This way," he said, gesturing towards the door. "Oh, and Savannah?" She looked at him, curious. "Welcome to Miami." She smiled and in that smile, Horatio thought he saw a promise of hope.