A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! I'm doing my best to write Horatio right, but I'm finding it very difficult. Lots of this chapter revolves around Ryan.

My first chapter didn't come out as well as I hoped for, so I hope this one is better (and longer!)

Chapter Two

1 hour before…

My eyes fluttered open. I stretched out my legs, sighing. Another day of work at Miami. I squinted through the blinding light, trying to see the time. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I could finally see the time… 12:00 a midnight? What the…

Oh, right the storm, I thought. Wait, if the storm turned off the clock… then… I stumbled out of bed and fumbled for my phone. It was… "9:00?" I shouted. Oh shoot, oh shoot.

I flew on my khakis and a wrinkled white button- up collared shirt. Tying on a loose, blue tie, I ran into the bathroom. After hurriedly brushing my teeth and attempting to comb my hair into place, I sprinted into the kitchen, grabbed a bagel, and ran into the car. I checked my phone for voicemails, and Horatio called three times. And that was thirty minutes ago.

Thirty minutes. Never have I ever been that late to work before. I could already imagine it. Everyone had already investigated the scene and collected the evidence. I walk in and everyone has to explain everything over again. It may seem a small thing to you, but if you're the person who's actually late, you will feel like everyone's judging you. You'll feel embarrassed that you're the only one late and that everyone has to take the time to explain things. Even if you know that they probably aren't judging you, you'll still have that feeling.

Remembering the address H gave me through the calls, I rushed out of the driveway, far too reckless for my liking. Oh well, I thought. I was going to need to fix the mailbox anyway.

I got my phone and dialed Horatio's number. After only the first ring, he picked up. "This is Horatio Caine."

"Hey H, it's Jesse. Look, I'm sorry that I'm late. The storm cut my power and the alarm didn't ring, so…"

"It's ok Jesse, Ryan's been having the same problems. We're investigating the murder of Jane Nathanson. Our suspect is the gardener, Michael Putman. He didn't show up for work today, and when we visited his house, he was gone. But what we did find was that he made a lot of calls to 'The Fisherman Storage'."

"Yeah I know the place," I interrupted. "I drive by it everyday."

"Good. Can you go and check it out? Natalia and Ryan are coming for back up. Do not approach until they arrive, understand?" he said.

"Yes sir." I hung up and wound through the traffick.

At the crime scene…

Horatio looked up from Jane Nathanson to see a very messy Ryan. His usually neat hair was sticking out and his clothes were wrinkled, which was strange because of his OCD. He was running towards H, panting. "I am so sorry H, my alarm didn't wake me up, but I came as fast as possible," he said, slightly embarrassed. Horatio smiled and easily forgave him, because his alarm didn't ring either. "So, what did I miss?"

H was about to answer when Walter cut in. "Jane Nathanson was murdered. Her husband found her when he came back home to retrieve a file he forgot and…" he faded when Ryan gave him a look. The 'I wasn't talking to you' look that made Walter blush. "Whoops sorry, I'll… just, um… go over… there and… um…" He slowly backed away, not sure of what to say. Once Walter was out of sight, they chuckled.

"So as he was saying…" Ryan said, insisting for H to continue.

"Walter's correct. Jane Nathanson's body was found when her husband, Carl Nathanson, forgot a file and drove back home. His alibi checks out."

"I'm no doctor, but I'm guessing that her COD was a stab wound," Ryan said, looking down at the body that Tom was examining.

"Actually, it is asphyxiation," the doctor said. "Mrs. Nathanson here was stabbed by that kitchen knife." He pointed at the tagged piece of evidence. "Not the best tool for a murder, but still very resourceful. The knife penetrated the lungs, causing blood to seep into it and suffocate her. She was dead within minutes." He shook his head. "The poor lady. She was suffocated by her own blood."

Ryan took one last good look at her before the EMT took her. Her layered black hair was soaked by her own blood. Her mouth was slightly open, and blood dripped out of it, reminding Ryan of a vampire horror story. He shuddered.

The stab wound penetrated her chest, and there was a blossom of dry blood around it. Her skin was deathly pale and her eyes were lazily open and clouded. They were staring right at him. He shuddered again.

The EMT lifted her gurney and drove off to the morgue. Ryan stared off at the truck. Jane probably had friends who were mourning for her death, who were crying because they'd never see her smile again, that they'd never hear her laughter just one more time.

And her husband. He couldn't even imagine what the Carl was going through. Maybe they were trying to have a baby, but now they can't. Maybe they were going to a vacation. But now they couldn't. Carl can't have that warm embrace from Jane everytime he came home from work. They can never have Friday night movies. They can never see each other again. Never again.

Ryan has never had to feel that feeling yet, to have someone you love, a husband, a wife, a girlfriend or boyfriend, who was so precious to you, stripped away from your arms. But that feeling was far too known in C.S.I. Horatio. Jesse. Two too many.

He's not sure how Natalia felt. Her ex-husband, Nick, beat her, so she wasn't in any way sad when he went to jail. He shook his head. Her own husband, who she had loved and trusted, beat her. Disgusting.

Ryan turned to see the husband, who was huddled on the ground, his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth, never looking up. Natalia was trying to ask him questions, but he didn't answer. He couldn't. Going through that event must have been traumatic seeing his wife dead in his own house. Seeing her blood on the ground, her body sprawled like an eagle.

The husband's usual strong build looked so feeble. He seemed about 6', but now he was hunched over, sitting on the ground. Ryan hated this. Carl was probably going to work, thinking that it would be an ordinary day, only to find his wife's body.

"There weren't any prints on the knife, were there?" Ryan asked. H shook his head.

"But… we do have a suspect," he said. Ryan raised his eyebrows. Already?

"Who?" Ryan asked.

Horatio smiled. "The gardener."

A/N: Well there you have it! My very first crime fanfic! Please tell me if I got anything wrong!