Chapter Fifty-two: Here We Go

"Here we are," Horatio said placing the plate on the table in front of Speed. "A hot, home cooked meal to make things feel a little more normal." He settled at the table across from Speed with a plate of his own.

How had he gotten here, Speed wondered. How had he let Horatio convince him of this? He should have been on the road to some far away destination where nobody knew his name, where his past would remain where it belonged instead of haunting his every moment. Who was he kidding; the demons just followed him from town to town, city to city. He could run himself right into the grave and they'd be right there behind him, never relenting in their dogged determination to bring him down. Picking up the fork he absently moved the food around the plate. Though his stomach growled he felt no urge to spear the food and bring it to his mouth. A few feet away Mite contentedly munched away at a bowl of kibble poured from the bag that had been in the car with Speed. All of a sudden, out of the blue, he missed his motorcycle. The rental cars left him feeling caged in but a motorcycle left him with no way to bring Mite along.

"Speed?"

Horatio's voice broke through the fog in his mind. He stared at his boss, at the scar along his boss's arm. That scar nothing more than a reminder of that day months ago. It was jagged, cutting a swath from the bend of Horatio's arm along the side and stopping on the top at the base of his wrist. An ugly reminder of the horrors that befell them, that haunted Speed's sleeping and waking moments. Still fresh in his mind…

"Tim, are you okay?"

"Fine," he managed to choke out. "Just a little fatigued from driving all day. I'm sorry; I guess I don't make great company right now."

Horatio smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Speed. I really am happy that you came home. It hasn't been the same without you around."

"You must have found a replacement at the lab," he said, fishing for information without coming right out and asking. He'd left so quickly it wouldn't surprise him to learn that his job was handed over to someone else. Maybe they'd even given the position to Cooper, who showed so much promise. Cooper got along great with the other team members. Speed could see him fitting in perfectly.

To his surprise when he looked up from his plate he found Horatio shaking his head. "Your job is still there. I told the powers that be that you took a sabbatical. At first they didn't question it; dealing with all those officers in the aftermath of the….well, this last month it's been hard to convince them that you'd be coming back. And to be honest with you, Tim, I damn near gave up myself. Now that you're back-"

"I don't want to see the lab," he said forcefully. "I don't want to set foot inside there, or even talk to the people working there. I can't…"

"These things take time," Horatio said matter-of-factly. "I've already got it all figured out. I have some paperwork that needs to be dealt with, old case files that need sorting. You can do that here, no risk of setting foot in the lab. But you'll still maintain your job so that when you are ready…"

Speed closed his eyes. "I'll never be ready," he said. The sound of screaming and shattering glass crowded his thoughts. He saw Delko, heard the gunfire, smelled the cordite in the air. Like a movie that never ended the images played on, a broken record in his mind. He pushed his plate away. "Excuse me. I think…I think I'll shower and hit the hay. I'm sorry, Horatio. I…"

Putting up a hand, shaking his head, Horatio said, "Stop apologizing. Go, you've most likely had a long drive. Get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

A few minutes later Speed stood under the burning hot water hoping the water would wash away the memories while knowing it was a futile attempt. Even after his skin turned red he kept the water on hot, loving the way that he made it him feel, the way that it kept him from being numb. When it finally got to the point that he couldn't take it anymore he shut off the shower, pulling back the curtain and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. The door was open the slightest bit to the bedroom beyond, the same room that he'd slept in all those nights ago. Why did he keep finding himself here? Was it out of convenience? The simple fact that his boss cared about him? Or was it because he felt safe within the walls of this house, the world outside no longer a problem? He leaned on the counter top, closing his eyes. Safe. What did it mean to be safe? Would he ever know what it truly meant to be safe?

He pushed aside the thoughts while he dried off, pulling on a pair of boxers and a pair of track pants. He reached for his shirt and stopped, his reflection in the glass stopping him. His eyes instantly focused on the ugly red scar slightly left of center on his chest. The damned scar…every time he saw it he felt the bullet ripping through his flesh all over again. And now it had a much smaller partner in his right thigh; his physical reminder of the attack on the lab. Sometimes it was hard for him to walk, the pain almost unbearable. The damned bullet nicked the thigh bone, tore a chunk away, shredded its way through the muscle. By all rights he should have gone through weeks, even months of physical therapy. Instead, the minute he walk well enough, he left town without looking back. On bad days he walked with a slight limp. Just another reminder of a past that wouldn't let him go.

And now there was a new scar, one still fresh enough in the healing process to be pink against the paleness of his skin. It stood out like a neon sign in the mirror reflection. A moment of weakness. A night so dark. A road empty and cold.

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Horatio was in the middle of cleaning up from dinner, his thoughts more on Speed than the task at hand, when he heard the sound of shattering glass. At first he thought it was the sound he heard on the nights when the nightmares plagued him. But then he heard a hollow thump and realized that the sounds were coming from his guest bedroom. Shutting off the water, grabbing a towel as he walked by, he headed for the back room.

"Speed?" he called. "Are you okay buddy?" He waited outside the closed bedroom door with baited breath, praying to get an answer, any answer. But silence greeted him. A feeling of unease forming in the pit of his stomach he tried the door, thankful to find it unlocked. Speed's suitcase was open on the bed, the bathroom door open slightly, the light glowing. Horatio heard the faint sounds of someone crying. He crossed the room, rapped on the bathroom door with his knuckles. "Tim, are you okay?"

When Speed didn't answer he pushed open the door. The first thing he noticed was the smell of blood. The second thing was the broken mirror, shards of glass littering the sink and counter, some had fallen to the floor. And sitting amongst them was Speed, knees drawn toward his chest, one hand to the side of his head, the other clutching tightly at a jagged piece of glass. Blood seeped slowly from between Speed's fingers, down his palm and wrist, dripping on the floor. Horatio knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on Tim's wrist.

"Let go of the glass, Speed," he said softly but with an authoritative voice. "Let it go." Speed's fingers eased up enough for Horatio to pluck the glass from his grasp. He let it fall to the floor with the others. "Tim-"

Speed's other hand fell away from the side of his face. "I'm sorry. I just….it's so…the memories…"

Horatio glanced at the scar running along Speed's arm, still pink in the late stages of healing. It wasn't until that point that he realized how far Speed had fallen, just how close he'd come to losing his friend. Without saying another word he sat on the glass sprinkled floor at Speed's side and put an arm around his shoulder. Right now no amount of words would ease the pain. Nothing he could say or do at that moment would send the darkness away. And in all honestly, even if words could help, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Speed had fallen so far and he wanted to help but didn't know where to start.