Ryan watched grimly as the speedometer continued to increase. He was up to 100 miles an hour.

Good thing there's no traffic around here.

With the aid of a map and a trace on Ryan's incoming calls, Dan and Horatio had managed to pinpoint Benny's location. Ryan had been right; she was being held in a rarely-used storage area near an oil refinery across town. As Ryan sped over, Delko had run a check on Fulton's credit card and confirmed: he had been renting the storage space for about a month and a half.

Please don't let me be too late. Ryan Wolfe was not a religious man, but in that moment, he begged God to forgive him his sins and allow him the survival of the only girl he had been able to think about for six months.

Greenway, Greenway, Greenway… Ryan's eyes scanned the streets for the sign that indicated the storage space where Benny was being held.

Greenway! There it was, just a dilapidated paved driveway with a faded orange sign reading "Greenway Storage Facilities". A few shrubs provided weak cover for the fifty or so units, one of which held the woman he loved. He turned sharply into the drive and halted to a stop outside the first unit. Hoping to surprise Fulton, he had turned off his siren when he had gotten the call from Horatio, and proceeded silently with his flashers on the remaining few blocks to the storage facility. Now he quietly opened his door and squinted into the Miami sunlight. He drew his weapon and searched for unit number 717.

704...708...710...Damnit these are only the even-number units. There must be another row of them behind.

He walked cautiously between units 710 and 712, to find himself facing unit 713.

Good. He grimly nodded his head in satisfaction and, his back to the hind walls of the units behind him, stalked quietly along the row until he was looking at the large garage-door style entrance to unit 717. The steel door was down, but through a tiny crack in the bottom, he saw a pale glow.

These places don't have electricity. He must have brought a light. They're in there.

Straining to hear the slightest sound from inside, Ryan pressed his side to the wall of the unit, his ear against the door. At first he heard nothing, and then:

Is someone crying? Ryan was confused. It was a man's voice who created this sound, based on the masculinity of the cries.

Why is he crying? Ryan did not dare to imagine that Benny had control of the situation, did not dare to believe that everything was going to be alright. But at the same time, he felt a strange sense of relief wash over him, until the male voice changed into a loud cry of anger.

"You BITCH! I'll KILL you!"

Now! Ryan Wolfe knew that he had to act. Wedging his fingers in the crack between the bottom of the door and the ground, he thrust it open and ran into the storage unit. Shocked and genuinely surprised, Fulton turned around from his position a few feet in front of Benny. His expression was one of pure confusion: he truly had not anticipated that he and Benny would be found before he had the opportunity to kill them both.

"Miami-Dade Police. Drop your weapon and lie on the floor, NOW!" Ryan could feel beads of sweat running down the side of his face and his back, but he resisted the urge to wipe them away and kept both of his hands on his gun.

For a single long moment, Fulton and Ryan just stared at each other, their eyes locked, neither of them more determined than the other not to fail.

"Drop. Your. Weapon." Ryan moved in slowly, just a few inches, his gun pointed directly at Fulton. The only sound was the ragged breathing of three very nervous, anxious people.

Suddenly, Fulton lunged at Ben, his shank coming dangerously close to her carotid artery. But years on patrol had granted Ryan reflexes unanticipated by a half-wit criminal such as Fulton. Ryan fired three times, not knowing whether he was shooting to kill or maim. The question was whether he would rather have Fulton rot in jail, or the ground. Nonetheless, his aim was accurate, and the bullets grazed Fulton's shoulder, lodged in his side, and drove into his upper thigh. He fell to the ground, shank in hand, and lay on the concrete floor, bleeding profusely.

Ryan ran over to him and, after kicking the knife from his hand, grabbed his own pocket knife and cut the bonds that held Ben. He grabbed her waist and rushed her outside, where they could better hear the sirens of the approaching police cars.

Not long now. It's all over. Keeping an eye on Fulton, Ryan wrapped Ben in a tight embrace, his arms locked around her waist as he lifted her from the ground. They would have stayed like that forever, had the police not arrived a few minutes later and squealed to a stop outside the unit. The officers raced in, patted down Fulton, and dragged him out in handcuffs. Horatio walked purposefully up to Ryan and Benny where they stood, and looked at them long and hard for a moment before he spoke.

"Good work, Wolfe. How about you get Ms. Wallace to the hospital now." He spoke the words softly, but they were undoubtedly a command.

"Oh, Horatio, I'm fine." She laughed painfully. "I think Fulton's the one who needs a doctor." She watched as the police loaded him into the jail infirmary-bound ambulance.

Horatio raised an eyebrow. "That laceration on your back begs to differ." Benny put a hand back to feel the stab wound she had earned so many hours before. The blood had crusted around the hole in her shirt, and she realized for the first time the excruciating pain shooting through her body. Suddenly tired, she leaned against Ryan and closed her eyes as she nodded slightly in agreement.

"Maybe I could see a doctor," She mumbled.

> > > > > >

"Alright, Cooper, now I need you to show me my footage from the ATM camera at Mayville and Brant." Benny had been hovering around the A/V lab for the past few hours, waiting for Dan to have a free moment to help her. She had been feeling restless and impatient lately, mostly due to her near-death encounter with Neil Fulton only three months prior.

"Right…and here we are." Cooper hit a few keys, bringing to the screens the footage taken from the automatic teller machine downtown. "Looks like your vic took out some money at around noon. Other than that…" Dan always felt bad when he couldn't help much.

"No, wait…can you enlarge that car in the background?" Benny pointed to the blue BMW behind the subject.

"Yup…just a sec…" Dan moved the cursor over the screen, enlarging the passenger window of the car in question. "Hey, isn't that--"

"It sure is! Thanks, Coop." Another case solved. Nothing felt better.

"Hey, Ben?" Cooper turned to look at her as he spoke.

Benny was looking through her case folder, and barely noticed Cooper's sudden attentiveness. "Yeah?"

"How's it…how's it going with the…case against Fulton?" He had heard, as most people at the lab had, that Fulton was pleading not guilty by reason of mental disorder, and the case was looking good for him.

Ben looked up, her eyes sad, longing. "It's going." She said shortly.

"How's Wolfe holding up?"

What a gossip. "He's fine." She thought for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

Dan just shrugged. "You know…I had heard about the IAB investigation and everything. Apparently they're breathing down his back pretty bad."

Benny raised an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Oh yeah, apparently the guy is claiming assault."

Benny's heart did a double-take. "How is that even possible!"

Cooper looked up at her, surprise registering on his face as he noticed her aggressive tone and body language. "Well cops are supposed to shoot to kill. Not torture. Dude says he was already down when Wolfe started shooting at him."

> > > > > >

"Hey, there's my favourite girl." Ryan called out to Benny as she approached him in the hallway. Noticing her disgruntled expression, he decided to change gears. "What's wrong?" They were only feet from each other at this point, and he genuinely feared that she was about to strike out at him.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Her bright blue eyes glared into him, inspecting him, probing him, interrogating him. Damn those eyes.

When Ryan didn't respond, she pressed further. "Don't you think I deserve to know these things? God, Ryan…" she said, pulling him into the nearby break room. Once inside, she continued to ostracise him. "Whatever happened to telling each other everything?"

By this point, Ryan had a fairly certain idea as to the basis of the interrogation. "You mean Stetler." he said, lowering his eyes in shame.

"Yes, Ryan, Stetler. You've been facing investigation and penalization for three months, and it never occurred to you to tell me? Believe it or not, the situation involves me, too." Her words were harsh, but her tone milder than before. Her love of Ryan had overcome her anger and frustration…and embarrassment that it was she who had earned him this professional difficulty. "I just…" She placed a gentle hand on his hip. "I don't want you to get in trouble for me." She moved in closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso. But the embrace with which he met her was cold and empty. Neither spoke for several long minutes.

"I think we should cool it for a while." Ryan's voice was barely audible, his words muffled through his nearly clenched teeth. It took all of his effort not to break down. It was a long time before Ben realized the implication of his words.

"What, like…break up?" She pulled away from him, tears standing in her eyes. "Because of IAB? Come on, Ryan, it's not that bad." Panic and desperation crept into her voice as she silently begged him not to do the unthinkable.

"It's not that simple, Ben. I've made too many professional mistakes involving women while I've been here. Everyone's sensitive about the relationships here because of the whole--" He sighed, remembering his short-lived relationship with Natalia Boa Vista "Mole, thing. I really care about you, it's just…I just…" He trailed off in thought as he raised his eyes to meet Benny's. They were as cold and empty as his embrace.

"You care about your job more. Fine." She turned quickly on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Ryan wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

> > > > > >

I won't cry. I won't cry. I don't care. I don't care. I'm better off alone. I hate him. I hate him.

She was seated in the passenger seat of Eric's Hummer, on their way to a crime scene. It had been almost ten months since she had moved to Miami; nine months since she had started dating Ryan; three months since she had been abducted; twenty minutes since she had had her heart broken.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Eric glanced over at his passenger, his heart going out to her. News travels fast in a culture like the Crime Lab, and he had heard just before leaving that Benny and Ryan had broken up. Initially, he had considered giving Ryan a lecture on the perils of ruining relationships; he had then realized that Benny, the attractive new criminalist from the North, would be on the rebound. And he was working a case with her.

She sighed and contemplated for a moment longer before answering. "It's nothing. You know. Stupid things."

"Oh, come on, Ben," Eric reached over and placed a comforting hand on her knee. "You know you can spill, right?"

She made her best attempt at a laugh, and then shrugged. "Just Ryan things."

Eric nodded. "Synonymous with 'stupid things', right?"

This time Benny genuinely laughed. "You've got that right. I mean, I knew that some guys cared more about their jobs than their girlfriends--" She cut herself off for a moment, realizing that she no longer had claim on that title. "Ex-girlfriends. But, I mean…what was the worst that could happen? He was just too chicken shit to tell me the real reason." She shrugged again, attempting to appear casual. "Whatever. His loss."

Eric flashed her a beautiful grin, hoping to get the same from her, but to no avail. "You're right it's his loss. But, you know…" He didn't know how to go about defending Wolfe to her. It was a sensitive position. "He kinda has reason to be cautious of what he does. I mean, there was the Erica Sykes thing--"

"Erica Sykes?"

"He never told you about that?" Bad call, Eric. Why did I bring that up! "Some reporter chick he dated for a while. She got him in some trouble."

"Made him a source?" Ben was obviously enjoying the mental image of Ryan in a tight spot.

"Yeah, something like that. Then he dated the mole, too." Eric hesitated. He wasn't the only one. "He wasn't the only one who did, but you know…I guess to some people it might make sense that he doesn't want to be involved with a colleague."

A single glare from Benny straightened him out. "But still, you're not a reporter or a mole…he's an idiot to let you get away."

> > > > > >

The scent of pine and gingerbread evoked painfully reminiscent memories that made Benjamin long for cold, snowy winters in front of a roaring fire, the power having long since gone out, playing Scrabble with her sister by candlelight.

It was nearing Christmas, and Benjamin Wallace was agonizingly homesick. The look on her face as she exited the lab's elevator must have tipped off her co-worker, for Calleigh immediately grabbed Ben's arm and lead her toward the morgue.

"How ya doin', Ben?" She drawled in her adorable Louisiana accent.

What I wouldn't do for an accent like that. She's probably never been made fun of for saying, "Oot and aboot".

"Oh, you know…keeping it together." She didn't pretend not to know that Calleigh had undoubtedly heard about her break-up with Ryan only three days prior. She acknowledged that it was a commonly known fact around the lab; Horatio had failed to pair them together three days running, a first in her ten months at the lab.

"Don't let him get to you. He only wishes he was worth your time."

"Who does?" Asked Alexx as the women entered the morgue. Alexx had just finished stitching up the Y-incision on a middle-aged man, and was now closing him into the confined surgical space of the mortician drawers.

With an approving look from Benny, Calleigh continued. "Ryan. Apparently he's not husband material like we thought." She felt bad, openly criticizing a friend and colleague, but before being a CSI, she was a woman, and she refused to let Ben suffer in silence.

God knows we've all been there. Ryan, Hagen, it's all the same.

"Aww, baby!" Alexx enclosed Ben into a tight hug, and released her with a pat on the back. "Calleigh's right, though; any man who doesn't appreciate you for the wonderful things you have to offer is not worth the time it takes to say his name. You're better than that, baby." It was an order, not a statement of pity. She had no doubt that Ben would be just fine.

Alexx thought back to the day of Benny's abduction, when Ryan had scrubbed his hands raw with worry. I really thought he loved her, too. She looked at Benny sadly, but still without pity, then turned to the examination table upon which lay a teenage corpse.

"Poor baby. ID'd him today. Oliver Trent. Nineteen years old." She ran an affectionate hand across his cheek, then looked up. "Must really ruin Christmas for his parents."

"It's already ruined by the weather." Mumbled Benny absently.

"What's that?" Calleigh smiled sympathetically. You mean it's ruined by Ryan.

Ben hadn't expected anyone to hear. "Nothing. I just don't see how anyone gets excited for Christmas around here. It just isn't festive when it's a hundred degrees and humid." She shrugged, an action that had become all-too common on her lately. "I guess you can't take the Canada out of the girl." She faked a smile.

> > > > > >

"Any plans for Christmas, Ben?" Ryan tried to sound casual and nonchalant as he walked into the evidence locker. Who would think it could be so hard to be friends with an ex?

Benny looked up from her forensic journal, pretending she hadn't noticed him walk in, when she was in reality painfully aware of everything he did. I guess you can't take the love out of the girl. "I'm a little broke to fly home, so I'll probably just hang out with Scott or something." She made no effort to pursue the conversation, because she hated him as much as she loved him, and had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing her put energy into a conversation with him. Sensing this, Ryan continued.

"You're probably better off that way." He laughed at his joke, and, getting no reaction from Benny, went on. "I'm going up to Boston for a few days. And you know my Mom will feed me to bursting point the entire time. Jewish maternal instincts." Earning not even a smile from Benny, he tried a more pragmatic approach. "How long is this going to go on, Ben?"

She looked up casually, staring into his eyes with her own sad ones. "What?"

"This silent treatment. I don't want to lose your friendship just because…" He was at a loss for words. "This" he motioned between the two of them "Didn't work out. I'm sorry, Benny, but I just don't think I deserve this kind of punishment."

Her eyes were dull as they peered at him, empty and longing. "I'm not doing anything. I treat you like I would treat anyone else." It was a bald-faced lie, and they both knew it, but Ryan retreated under her gaze, and ducked his head.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone." It was the last thing she wanted him to do, but she made no effort to stop him from leaving the evidence locker where she was left sitting alone.

> > > > > >

"Ryan! Come here and eat something, baby, you look like a skeleton!" Yeah, if you subtract the hundreds of carbs I've been loading on for two straight weeks.

Ryan Wolfe could weigh a thousand pounds and his mother would still accuse him of malnutrition. He stood in the doorway of his parents' Boston home, suitcase in hand, as he was assaulted by a large group of women. Four sisters, six aunts, three nieces, two grandmothers, and, of course, his own mother, all grabbing at his newly-acquired love handles, prodding him in search of hunger.

Laughing, he stepped into the warmth of the living room, dropping his shoes, coat, and suitcase in the front hall. Big mistake.

"Ryan Wolfe, you leave my home for two months and now, what, you forget your manners? You bring your things to your room, silly boy!" His mother smacked his bottom lightly as he headed up the stairs. "And wash up for dinner! Comb that hair of yours!" To his aunts, she said, "The boy refuses to get a decent haircut. Every time I see him, he has hair like some sort of crazy man!"

Retreating to the warm familiarity of his old bedroom, Ryan collapsed onto the bed, hoping for a few minutes of quiet before the insanity of a huge Jewish family set in. He loved them more than most grown men would admit they loved their families, but they were a tiring bunch. He closed his eyes, his face pressed against the argyle comforter under which he had spent so many nights as a child and youth.

Ryan awoke an hour later to find himself tucked under the comforter, a glass of cider on the bedside table, and fat snowflakes falling outside his window. It's good to be home. He also noticed that his hair had been neatly combed to the side, the way his mother liked it. "If it has to be long, let it be neat!" Oh, mother.

After making his bed and neatly folding his clothes into their respective drawers, Ryan headed downstairs to check out the action. He faced a multitude of his extended family members, sitting with cups of cider and other hot beverages, discussing their memories together. It was tradition in his family that, once the children had been put to bed, the adults reminisce. It was never made an official tradition; it was just a habit that tended to repeat itself, year after year. And Ryan, being completely routine-oriented, loved every moment of it.

"Ah! There he is!" Called out his aunt Linda, beckoning to him. His family looked up at him with genuine smiles as he climbed down the stairs.

"I was just telling them about the way you used to unplug all the appliances when you were just a boy." Another tradition was to lovingly jest at Ryan's obsessive-compulsive tendencies, none of which his disorganized and absent-minded family could ever completely understand.

"Funny, I was just thinking about the way you used to leave them on!" Was his witty retort, containing little--but still present--truth. His mother was renowned for forgetting things, leaving curling irons on, and even leaving the house wearing mismatched shoes.

Ryan's response was met with raucous laughter from the family as he eased himself onto a chair borrowed from the kitchen table.

"Will you look at this boy, thinner every time I see him and still not with a ring on his finger!" Sang out his father's sister, Gloria. In addition to his obsessive compulsion, he was being increasing chided every year for the lack of marital bliss in his life. He had four sisters, all of whom had married in their early twenties and had multiple children. And here I am, twenty-seven and unwed. So sue me.

"Yeah, Ry, when were you thinking of getting on that? Any lucky ladies in mind?" Asked his sister, Melissa, smiling at him in a secret way that said, Haha, gotcha.

All eyes were on Ryan as he laughed, replying, "Yeah, I'll have to get on that. Maybe put an ad in the paper, you know, scope out the Classifieds." His sarcasm went unnoticed by many of the senior family members, such as his Uncle Sport.

"I don't know, boy, the girls these days are not as they used to be. Dancing to their music, and wearing those…" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Clothes. Not like they used to be at all."

The younger generation snickered secretly at the outdated nature of his response, struggling not to laugh out loud and offend the senior man.

Ryan loved coming home for just this reason: the casual banter of the relatives as they playfully chided one another, joking and talking as easily as they breathed. He was usually a nervous person, trying so hard to please people that he forwent his own pride in pursuit of his goals. He had known such easy conversation with only one other person in his lifetime.

Benny.