Note: Sorry for the delay! Holidays have kept me busy!

Chapter Fifty-nine: It Makes me Ill

He stood there with his hands in his hair, the look in his eyes one that Horatio had seen numerous times before. Speed was quickly losing his composure, a myriad of thoughts expressed on his face and none of them happy or even the slightest bit pleasant. The wound in his side hurt like a son of a bitch and would most likely require stitches. But he forgot all about the warmth of the blood, the burning sensation in his skin. To him the stab wound was merely that, a wound, and nothing more. However to Speed it was the doorway through which old haunting memories entered, the doubts and fears lurking in the darkness skipping into the shining glory of the light. He whole heartedly believed that if he didn't do something he was going to lose Speed all over again.

"Tim, calm down," he said in a soothing voice. "The situation is not nearly as bad as you might think."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" countered Speed, his voice conveying his surprise at Horatio's choice of words but failing to cover-up the worry seeping through. "You're bleeding pretty badly, H, and I have no way of getting you to the hospital."

"Yes, you do, Speed," suggested Horatio. Patience, he needed to use patience to get through the fog quickly thickening around Speed's mind and ability to think straight. "We may not have the keys and therefore cannot drive out of here but the radios are still very useful."

Speed smacked himself in the forehead, a gesture so out of place in the situation, all wrong for the emotions swirling around. Without saying another thing he ran to the nearest company vehicle. Throwing open the passenger side door he reached across the seat for the radio. He wasted little time in getting across the fact that there was an officer down, assistance needed. He didn't even bother giving the lady at dispatch a chance to ask him questions. He told her to hurry, as though the urgency in his voice was not enough to get it across the airwaves and through her headset. Closing the passenger door he headed back to Horatio. Oddly enough his boss seemed less bothered about the injury than he did. The lieutenant had resumed lying on the ground with the suit jacket pressed against his wound. For a moment Speed was struck with the sudden image of his boss, his friend, dead and no longer a part of this world. So vivid was the image in his mind that his heart skipped a beat, he grew unsteady on his legs.

And yet he managed to keep his composure, driving away the unwanted image and kneeling in the grass at Horatio's side. Out of reflex he took Horatio's free hand and applied two fingers to his wrist, checking the rate of his heartbeat. "Help is on the way."

"That's good."

Speed sat back on the ground, letting go of Horatio's hand as a cloud passed over the sun. A chill trickled down his spine. He felt the familiar twang of an anxiety attack as the situation finally began to bore its way deeply into his subconscious. He was no longer sitting in the grass of an upscale Miami house, the autumn air brushing across his skin, ruffling his hair. No, he was in a different place, a dark void that he longed to forget, a memory he simply wanted to erase with the push of a button. Instead of kneeling by Horatio and making sure that his boss was still alive he felt numb, cold. Empty. He heard the words that Horatio spoke to him all those months ago, felt the comforting of a familiar presence when he knew that Death lingered nearby. So strong was the sensation that he smelled the gunfire in the air, felt the intense pain in his chest.

"Speed!"

Jostled from the burning memory he found himself sitting once again in the front yard of the crime scene, a hand pressed to his chest. The not so phantom pain had returned.

"I though I'd lost you there for a moment," Horatio said with relief.

He had not idea what to say in response, choosing to sit quietly while he waited for his heartbeat to slow. The sound of tires on gravel drew his attention to the end of the driveway where a dark sedan was pulling in. On reflex he reached for his gun; which he did not have. There was one a few inches away but he could not be sure it was Horatio's or a piece of evidence left behind by the maniac that ruined the day. How was he going to defend them if the person behind the wheel was an associate of the man Calleigh and Delko were currently chasing down? He didn't have to worry for long as the door opened.

"Do you need help getting him up and moving?" Hagen called from where he stood.

"I'm not sure," Speed said, never happier to see the detective. Hagen walked over to offer assistance. This was the first time that Speed had seen the detective since a passing glimpse in the hospital. Aside from a few scars and a slight limp he looked as though nothing had happened. While they worked together to get Horatio to the sedan Hagen explained that he'd been on his way to the grocery store when he heard the call on his personal police scanner. Being as close as he was he called dispatch to let them know he was taking the call. Squad cars were already on the way to the scene to make sure everything remained intact for when Calleigh and Delko returned. The officers had already been warned to be on alert.

Once Horatio was loaded in the sedan Hagen backed out of the drive and drove like a mad man toward the hospital.

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He sat outside in the fading light of the day, his shift nearly over. Everything seemed to be falling apart all over again. For reasons that continued to remain unknown to him he returned to Miami, the black hole which his nightmares crawled out of. He threw himself right back into the middle of everything he'd been running from. The terrible memories. The situation with Delko that he still couldn't figure out how to handle. The constant reminder all around him of just how fragile life could be. Not for the first time he wondered if staying away would have been better for him. Not even in town for two weeks and already bad luck crossed his path. If he stayed he could very well get his friends killed. They deserved better than that.

Better than him.

"Now that's the face of a man in deep contemplation," Calliegh said as she settled on the step beside him. For some reason she seemed unfazed by all that had happened earlier in the day. Between her and Delko they caught the stabber, brought him in for question and at present he was sitting behind bars. "What's on your mind, hon?"

"Nothing."

A dark cloud passed over her face. "No, don't you even start playing that game again, Tim. I will not go through this with you, not for a second time. Do you have any idea what it was like while you were gone, always wondering what the hell happened to you? I spent so many sleepless nights wishing that you would call, praying for even the slightest sign that you were okay. I cried a lot of tears for you, Speed. Having you walk out of my life, that hurt more than I can ever express in words. We're family and family sticks together. Family is there to offer support, to hold you up when you can't stand on your own. And you waltzed away; shut me out of your life like I never mattered to you. Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen a second time."

"Calleigh, please…"

"Tell me what is wrong, Speed," she pushed.

He stood. "You want to know what's wrong?" his voice on the verge of shouting, anger coating the words. "I'll tell you what's wrong. Me."

She followed him, standing, searching his eyes. "What happened to you, Tim?" She placed a hand tenderly on his cheek. "Where have you gone? Why won't you come back to us?"

"I'm right here."

With a sad shake of her head, her hand slipping away she said, "No, no you're not, sweetie."