Chapter Four: How to Make Everyone Hate You in Less Then a Day

"You can't do this!" Ryan continued to yell as the CIA Agents carried the evidence boxes through his crime lab. "That evidence is part of an ongoing investigation! If you remove it from this building a killer could very well walk!"

Horatio turned and looked at Ryan, staring the young man down. He looked at him in his suit and light blue dress shirt. His eyes wandered down to where his shirt was tucked into his pants, something Ryan hadn't done very often in the past, even when wearing a suit. He looked at the gold badge clipped to his belt, the word "Lieutenant" printed across the top of the shield.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant Wolfe," Horatio said, "The CIA has determined that the Miami Dade Crime Lab is unable to move forward with this case. You've had the evidence for eight months and have made absolutely no progress. In that time the bombing of shipping warehouses has become more frequent, resulting in more victim fatalities. The CIA believes you will not be able to ever solve this case, therefore we're seizing your evidence in order to process it ourselves."

"You're the one who collected and processed it to begin with!" Ryan snapped at him. "Your name is all over those reports! So if anyone is to blame it's you, Horatio!"

"With all due respect, Lieutenant Wolfe," Horatio quietly muttered, "Suck my dick." He turned and continued his path to the elevator.

Lisa smirked at him as he joined her outside the doors.

"Did you really just tell the Miami Lieutenant to suck your dick?" she whispered to him.

An embarrassed yet satisfied grin played across Horatio's face.

"Wolfe's too hot headed sometimes," he said as they waited for the elevator.

"Let's just hope he doesn't try to appeal our seizure," Lisa quietly said. "That little statement could cause a bit of a problem."

"H!" someone called out.

Horatio turned, rather confused. Since he started working for the CIA eight months prior, no one had called him by his former nickname his CSI team had given him.

Eric trotted up to him, stopping about five feet from him, as if he didn't want to get too close. He fidgeted nervously, trying to form the words he needed.

"Why are you doing this?" he finally asked.

Horatio turned his head away, looking up to see what the elevator display said the cart was.

"I was given orders by my superior agent," he quietly said. "We were instructed to seize the evidence from the Miami Dade bomber case in order to further aid our investigation."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Eric quietly said. "I was asking why you're being such a dickhead."

Horatio looked at Eric shocked.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Yeah, you heard me right," Eric said. "Ever since you left Miami and went to work for the CIA you've been nothing but a jerk. You're rude, impersonal, and a real bastard sometimes. You never call anymore. We've hardly talked at all in the last six months. I feel like I don't even know you anymore. What happened to the Horatio I knew? What happened to my brother?"

Horatio looked at him, anger burning deep within him.

"We're not brothers, Eric," he quietly said. "Marisol's dead."

The elevator doors dinged as they opened. Horatio and Lisa stepped into the cart. Eric stood there, glaring at Horatio as the doors closed.

"What was that about?" Lisa quietly asked him.

Horatio was silent.

"Horatio? Is something wrong?" Lisa continued on.

"Shut up, Lisa," Horatio muttered, stepping off the elevator. "I don't want to talk about it."

Horatio walked through the charred warehouse. He was still angry about what had happened at the Crime Lab. He was angry with Ryan for being so obstinate and keeping the evidence away because he held a grudge against Horatio. He was mad at Eric for calling him out, accusing him of being something he wasn't. And he was mad at Lisa for being so clingy.

Since they had started secretly dating two months prior, Lisa has been everything Horatio didn't want in a woman. She insisted on knowing exactly what he was going every second of the day. She wanted to know his plans when he had the day off, down to the littlest details. If he didn't answer her emails or texts she would call him. If he didn't answer her calls she would call until he did, filling his voicemail with useless messages until there was no memory left. If he didn't call her back she would show up on his doorstep. She had even accused him of having an affair. Horatio was starting to think being in a relationship with Lisa was a mistake in more ways than one.

He stormed through the wreckage, gun in hand. Since he had started working at the CIA there had been four additional bombings, becoming more frequent in the recent months. Every time it was the same thing. Some small shipping warehouse that no one even knew existed had been blown to pieces with several people inside. The CIA was called in and the crime scene evaluated. Twice at two of those scenes the woman with the short dark hard had appeared, fleeing in a different car each time.

This time, Horatio was ready for her. He didn't care who she looked like. She was a suspect. And she had to be brought in.

There was a light clattering noise. Horatio didn't vocally respond. He quietly crept along a charred wall, trying to stay invisible. Someone sprinted past him in all black. Horatio ran after them. He stopped for a moment and raised his gun, clicking the safety off. He fired three times and watched the person drop to the ground just before they reached the door.

"You son of a bitch," Horatio muttered as he approached the wounded figure, "Now you're going to get it."

He grabbed the person's slender upper arm. She fought him off, trying to mask her face. Blood poured from the wound in her left thigh, as Lisa called out Horatio's name. He struggled with her, trying to pull her hood down, but she continued to fight. He grasped the back of her hood and yanked it off.

His heart stopped and he stared at the young woman's face. She looked at him with a pained expression. He stared at her, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. His hand trembled as he reached for her face.

"Marisol," he whispered.

She suddenly grabbed his gun by the muzzle that he forgot he had been holding. She swung her arm and pistol whipped him across the face a few times. He cried out in pain as she beat him mercilessly. His knees buckled and he doubled over in pain as she continued to beat him. She grabbed a handful of his red hair and pulled him upright.

"I'm sorry, Horatio," she whispered as she placed the muzzle of the gun against his shoulder.

He screamed as the crack of the gun sounded through the small room. He collapsed to the ground as he began to bleed from the wound in his shoulder.

She limped away from him, towards a car idling not even ten feet from the door. He fought to stand but the pain in his shoulder was far too much. Tires squealed as she sped away from him once again.

Horatio laid there on his stomach, blood pooling around him on the ground. Pain seared through his shoulder as he stared in the direction her car had driven away in.

Agent Thompson walked into Horatio's hospital room, a grim expression on his face.

"Well, Caine, the doctor says you're going to be just fine," he said. "The shooter managed to miss everything vital in your shoulder. It was just a through and through in the muscle. A little time and rest and you'll be better before you know."

Horatio looked at him. "Then why do you look so upset?" he asked.

"Caine, you let a suspect steal your glock and then shoot you with it," Thompson said. "That's a very serious matter."

"I didn't let her take it," Horatio snapped. "She stole it from me."

"A little girl stole your gun?"

"This was not just some little girl," Horatio retorted.

"How so?"

"I think she has some kind of training, at least in combat. Military, police, could be anything. All I know for certain is that 'little girl' knew how to fight."

"Sure Caine, we'll look into it," Thompson replied with a certain bitterness in his voice. "Until then, you're going to be placed on probation for loosing your field weapon."

"Are you by chance related to anyone by the last name Stetler?" Horatio inquired.

"No, why?"

"Just curious."

Thompson left and Horatio was alone again. Lisa had yet to come visit him, claiming it would look suspicious if she did. However, Horatio really wasn't all that upset she wasn't there. He really rather enjoyed the time alone.

He looked out the window, wishing the ones he had once called his family were there to comfort him, just as they always had been in the past. A nurse walked in, but Horatio paid her no attention, until she dropped a gun on the tray that sat next to his bed.

The loud sound startled him, causing him to jump slightly. He looked up at the nurse. She was wearing blue scrubs with a blue surgical cap and blue face mask. All that was visible on her head were her brown eyes. Eyes he would never forget as long as he lived. Horatio stared at her, once again trying to figure it all out.

"Listen to me," she quickly said in a soft voice, "I'm exactly who you think I am. I'm sorry I've been living a lie the last four years, but I had to do it. The Mala Noche were onto to me."

Horatio continued to stare at her, unsure if whether he should believe her or not.

"I know you don't believe me," she said, as if she had read his mind, "But I swear it's true. I'm alive and well. I've been in hiding the last four years, trying to catch the Mala Noche. Yes, I'm the one who's been setting off the bombs. I know, a little rogue of me, but you have to understand, Horatio, I mean no one harm. All those bodies that have been piling up are Mala Noche gang members.

"My boss specifically put me on this case because he knew I could cover my tracks. I was good for two years until you were at that scene the MDPD got a hold of. It was supposed to go to the CIA, but you were too quick and you firmly stood your ground when Thompson tried to interject. I knew you would figure it out eventually, that's why I sent the Agent to offer you the CIA job. But he wasn't a real CIA Agent. He was an undercover FBI Agent. He posed as a CIA Agent to lure you in. I knew you would want to break away from the Crime Lab eventually, so I took a chance. The CIA doesn't work as efficiently as your CSI team does. That's why I had to break you away. If you left then they would be lost without their fearless leader.

"I'm sorry, Horatio. I've wanted to tell you for so long."

He sat there silently. He looked into her brown eyes, trying to find the truth in her words.

"Who are you?" was the only thing he could think to say.

She dug into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a leather wallet. She flipped it open, revealing an ID card and gold badge.

"Marisol Delko Caine, Secret Agent for the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation."

He stared at her badge, re-reading her ID card and examining the picture. At first glance it looked real. He looked back up at her, the pain evident in his eyes.

"You've been alive this whole time," he whispered.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Horatio," she quietly said. She suddenly turned and rushed from the room, disappearing from his sight.

Horatio sat there, alone in his hospital room. Sudden pain seared through his body. He turned and vomited onto the floor and his vision blurred and doubled as the room shifted from vertigo.

Then he passed out.