AN: New Chapter already today... WOW :)

Oh, and I forgot the disclaimer in my prologue: I don't own CSI Miami or its characters. I do own Deborah, uncle Ron as portrayed here, as well as Ann Evans, who will be in this chapter.

Chapter One

Ryan opened the door to his apartment. He got in, closed the door again and threw his keys on the nearest desk. Finally at home. He loved this job, but since he had gotten back on the team, he felt the tension between him and the rest of them. They still didn't trust him. Except for Alexx. She did. But the others… Well, things between him and Delko had never been easy, and he had done his part in screwing it up with Natalia. It was the thing with Calleigh that bothered him the most. He knew things between them two would never be like they were. He had always felt that she was, next to Alexx, the only one in the team that respected him, yeah even liked him. But well… It was his fault. At least here at home, he could shut down from it a bit. He went to the living room. The light on his answering machine was on. He pushed the button:

"Hey, Ryan, it's Ron. Just wanted to remind you of tonight. Bye bye."

Ryan grinned. After all those years, Ron still hadn't managed to leave decent messages on answering machines. It was Ron's fiftieth birthday, and he was throwing a huge party at his penthouse tonight. No chance Ryan would forget this. He had four hours left until he had to go. Time enough for a shower and a quick bite. He walked over to the bathroom, where he took his clothes off and went into the shower. He showered for half an hour. Not that he felt the urge to do so. Since he had gotten OCD therapy, sponsored by Uncle Ron, he didn't feel that anymore. Okay, he still wanted everything neat and clean, and he still felt a bit of horror when he thought about not cleaning his gun like two times a week. But he could deal with it. He only showered that long because he loved the feeling of warm water. He had loved it since his early childhood. It reminded him of the times when he had spent his holidays with Ron in Miami, when the two were on the beach. He turned the water off and got out of the shower, his hand reaching for the towel that lay on the chair next to the door. He rubbed his hair and body dry and then he looked into the mirror. He liked what he saw. Well, like might be a bit over the top, but he could live with what he saw: fuzzy brown hair, hazel eyes… the little scar next to the right eye where the nail had hit him. It didn't distract very much from his looks. Only somebody who would look right into his eyes would notice it. He shrugged. Then he took a closer look at his body. He remembered when, years ago, he had complained about being too lanky. Well, the lankiness had gone completely. During the last years, he had managed to grow some muscles. He still looked rather slim when he was standing next to Frank Tripp, but at least next to Delko he didn't look like a twelve year old anymore. He sighed a bit, pondering about doing it or not, but then he turned around and looked over his shoulder into the mirror. He could see his back now. It was covered in scars. He had counted them years ago. He didn't remember the exact number, but he knew it was a lot. Somewhere around fifty. They were criss-crossing his back. It looked… He didn't know. In his pre CSI life, he would have said "disgusting". But after having seen so many mutilated corpses, he would never say such a thing anymore. It felt like an insult to those that had suffered so much more than him. He had suffered for a week or two, until the pain had gone. But then it had been okay. Well, physically. But he still had a hard time undressing in front of other people. Whenever he was at the gym with Delko or earlier on with Cooper, he had done his best to not let them see his back. Even Ron had never seen his back, not even right after the beating. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it. He knew he didn't have too. It was what he always told victims of abuse, that it was never ever the victims fault. He had understood that long ago in therapy. What he feared most was that he had to explain. And that was something he still couldn't. It always brought back the pain and the fear and the feeling of… well, just not being good enough. He had talked to Ron, sometimes, reluctantly. But he could not imagine talking to the team about it, not even to Alexx, who was sort of a second mother to him. It scared the hell out of him to even think about talking to anybody. Because it still hurt. After all those years, it still hurt to think about his family. Okay, he had never regretted his choice. It was actually the best choice he had ever made. But sometimes, like, after he had been fired, a little voice in his head asked him, if it had really been worth it. Most of the time Ryan knew it had. But when he was alone, he sometimes wished he could pluck up the courage and go just home and talk to his father. But he knew one thing: the fact that he was now grown up and cop and stronger than he used to be wouldn't stop Duke from doing it again. And Ryan knew that he still couldn't defend himself against his own father when it came to it. He looked at his back a last time, sighed and put a shirt on. No need to think more about it. He would never see his father again.

--

Later that evening, he parked his car in front of the building where Ron had his penthouse. When he got to the penthouse, the normally huge space was crowded with people. Ryan, through and through a cop, wondered how many of those guys actually were friends and "workmates" of his safecracking uncle, and how many of them were just potential victims Ron had met along the road and wanted to check out. He decided not to think anymore of it; he was a cop, his uncle a criminal. If he thought too much about this simple fact, it would make his life too complicated. He walked over to Ron, who was sitting on his piano, a young girl in his arm. Ryan immediately sensed something was wrong about the girl. He had seen his uncle's former girlfriends. They were always about 20 something years old, blond, slim, with big boobs… well, somewhat California beauties. This one wasn't. She was tall, taller than Ron, and normally he couldn't stand that. And she was brunette. And surely already close to her thirties. Must have been the first brunette and the oldest girlfriend Ron had ever had. Maybe this was why it looked so wrong to Ryan. He went over to them:

"Hey Ron. Happy birthday."

Ron smiled, "Thank you very much, Ryan. Ann, let me introduce you. This is Ryan Wolfe, my nephew. The best kid on earth. Ryan, this is my girlfriend, Ann Evans." Ann shook Ryan's hand. Her handshake was strong. Again, major difference to Ron's other girlfriends. Something was wrong here…. But Ryan didn't have the time to think about it any further. Suddenly, a young child came running towards him:

"Uncle Ryan!!"

Ryan smiled and kneeled down, just in time before the girl had arrived and threw her arms around his neck, "Hey, my little angel. How you're doing?" It was his niece, Kathy.

"I'm fine."

"Where's your mommy?" He looked up and scanned the room. There she was. Deborah, his younger sister. She hadn't changed a bit. He hadn't really seen her a lot these past years. She visited Ron sometimes, and sometimes, when Ryan knew she was there, he went over to see her. And Kathy. He had loved the child from the beginning on. He always bought her something for her birthday, even if Deborah and she weren't around, and then gave it to Ron so that he could give it to Kathy once he saw them. He got up, with Kathy on his arm, and went over to Deborah. She smiled at him, but it was an awkward smile:

"Hello, Ryan."

"Hey, Deb."

"How are you?"

"Okay. You?"

"Fine…" Silence. Ryan hated that silence. After he had been thrown out, at the rare occasions he had met Deborah, he never had managed to have a normal conversation with her. There were just so many things between them. After all, they never had the best of relationships, even when they were children. Okay, he had helped her, back when she was eleven. It would have been a good start for a normal brother-sister relationship. But it had turned out different and Ryan and Deborah had never managed to become close. Ryan sighed a bit and then asked, "How are mom and dad?"

Deborah answered, "Mom is alright. Though, she still misses you. You should call her some time, you know. What happened between you and dad is one thing, but it isn't mom's fault."

"I know. But I can't." He paused, "How is dad, then?"

"Well, he's still very active. He and Steve hang around a lot, to discuss new recruits and training methods." Steve was Deborah's husband or, as Ron had once called it, 'the perfect son-in-law for my idiot brother'. He had made career in the army already at a very young age, and of course, Duke had been more than thrilled that his daughter had chosen such a good man. He was recruiter in Boston, and apparently one of the best they'd ever had. And of course, he couldn't stand Ryan. Not that Ryan would care, anyways.

"Well, I guess at least I don't have to worry about having ruined family tradition anymore," he said.

"No, you don't. Though I seriously think you should…" Ryan never found out what Deborah thought, because in that exact moment, she tripped forward and dropped her champagne glass. Furiously, she turned around:

"Watch out where you're walking, in God's ..." Apparently, Ann had accidently shoved her when she was heading for the toilet. But before Deborah had finished her sentence, Ann had already caught the glass before it hit the floor. Not even a drop of champagne was spilled. She handed Deborah the glass, smiling a bit and then left for the toilet.

Ryan frowned, "That was impressive… Speaking about a fast reaction…"

"I can't stand her. She's only after Ron's money, like all the others…" Ryan only nodded. He didn't know why, but he felt Deborah was wrong.