My apologies for the long delay. I have been dealing with back pain brought on by an old injury. I do fully intend to finish this story! Thank you to those that still take the time to read and review it. =) Much appreciated.

Chapter Sixty-four: The Game is Over

Evidence from the crime scene was already waiting for him when he got to the lab. Seemed that the others had been especially busy in his absence. Did any of them actually have lives anymore or had work become the only thing that mattered to them? There was a time when they used to go out together after shift, hit the newest club, have a few drinks and do some dancing. For him it seemed like those days happened years ago, possibly even in another lifetime. Maybe in a movie that he happened to catch on television. So much have changed that he wasn't sure they could make things right. Then again, he no longer knew what it meant to have things be right. He wondered if he would ever be right, after all, everybody else seemed to be fine, moving on with their lives and passed the tragedy of a few months ago. Why couldn't he just let go the way that they did? Why must it haunt his every free moment?

Like now.

Shaking his head he checked to see what his dog was doing, happy to note that Mite behaved like an angel while at the lab. The shepherd was currently sleeping under the table, unbothered by the sounds of the people and machines. As he waited for a test to finish he watched Mite, watched the rising and falling of the dogs chest. Every once in a while a paw might twitch, his tail might move. A horrible crime brought the unwanted dog into his life. And now he found it hard to be without Mite. He received a source of comfort from having the large shepherd around, believed that should it come down to it that Mite would protect him at all costs. Dare he even think that having Mite around kept his anxiety levels down to a more manageable level? Without the dog there was no telling what might have happened on his journey through the states.

And now he had new worries.

People were being killed and rare breed dogs were disappearing for who knows what purpose. He checked. Anatolian Shepherds didn't exactly make the popular breeds list. Mention a Labrador and most people knew what the hell he was talking about. Mention Mite and they usually looked at him with that classic puzzled expression. For all he knew his dog could very well be the next one on the list. He was worried about leaving Mite alone, afraid that he would return from a shift to find the dog gone for good. What would he do with himself should something like that happen? He didn't even want to think about it. He had to find a way to keep a constant eye on Mite.

Then an idea came to him.

Law enforcement officials used dogs for a lot of different task. And it was no longer the German Shepherd or Doberman that officers picked time and time again. Labradors, Beagles, Rottweilers, Bloodhounds; they all had jobs in the law enforcement. Hell, he knew more officers that used the Belgian Malinois over the German Shepherd nowadays. In fact, there was one working various states as a bomb dog. The understanding of a dog's abilities had come so far in the last few years. Not only did they help law enforcement sniff out drugs and bombs but they rescued people buried in the snow; led anthropologist to cadavers; located missing people; and some were even known to be able to detect when their owner was going to have a seizure. There had been a story some time ago in one the science journals about dogs actually being able to sniff out certain forms of cancer. The possibilities for a dog having a career were endless. He wasn't exactly sure what someone might use an Anatolian Shepherd for but a little research might lead him to the right answer.

He definitely needed to have a word with Horatio about the prospect of making Mite part of the team.

Officially.

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A short time later he was heading toward Horatio's office, still trying to figure out what the hell he was doing at the lab so late when there was a night shift. Padding along quietly at his side was Mite, free of a leash. The dog seemed almost at home in the lab, like he enjoyed the place as much as his owner used to. Speed felt energized with the prospect of training his dog to be of help in some way. Then he could take Mite with him everywhere. And maybe, just maybe, he would regain some of his confidence, learn to love his job the way he once did. He really wanted to run the idea by Horatio but never got the chance because his pager went off, a second later his phone rang. With a sinking heart he listened as Frank read him an address. From the sounds of things the missing celebrity had been found.

Not alive.

And her dog long gone.

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He left Mite in the back of the Hummer when he arrived on the scene. For now he did not want the dog to contaminant the crime scene. That would only work against them, not with them. As he trudged across the open space with his kit in hand he found it odd to be working under streetlights and in the glow of headlights. He wasn't used to collecting evidence under the night sky. In dark clubs and the farthest reaches of a car trunk, yes, but an open field in the middle of the night? He figured that it could have been worse. They could have been working out in the everglades where the only light would have been from the emergency vehicles. Talk about making easy prey for gators.

On his way to what looked like ground zero of the scene he came across his boss. Horatio was on the phone but clearly on hold while the person on the other line fetched someone or did who knows what. Feeling that this might be his only chance to bring it up the rest of the night he stopped by Horatio's side. His boss looked at him, ready for the impending question.

"Can I talk to you later about Mite?"

"Sure," Horatio answered. "When we find time."

He was going to say more but whoever his boss was talking to came back on the line and their conversation resumed. Times like these he was sure happy not to be in Horatio's position. A high profile person being murdered in Miami? Especially when it seems that she was murdered for her dog? Horatio's lab was the one processing the scenes so they would be put under a lot of pressure. Horatio would undoubtedly take the brunt of that pressure. He always did, when asked why he said that it helped his team work better. Too much pressure led to mistakes being made which only made matters worse in the long run. At this rate the stress of the job would kill Horatio before a bullet or well placed knifing.

Speed pushed those thoughts from his mind.

He did not want to think, for even a millisecond, about the stabbing.

About all that blood.

The fear.

The rush of hopelessness.

The possibility of loss.

Blood. Crimson blood.

"Speed?" Eric's voice drew him from the depths of his unwelcome thoughts, forcing the images back into the box they'd come from. "Are you okay?"

Speed smiled somewhat shakily. "Sure, dandy as can be, given the circumstance."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Eric said, having a general look around. "From what Calleigh and Ryan have told me, this scene is a complete mess. Might take us hours to sort out everything."

"City is going to love paying us over time," Speed remarked, thinking that perhaps it was not in the budget. Then again, with someone famous having died, the mayor might find a hidden stash of money. One never knew. Then something dawned on Speed. He'd been standing here like a civilized person making small talk with one of his best friends. For a short time he forgot about everything else, slipped back into an old routine. Acted like he would have before being shot. And just like that the moment was ruined, gone, slipping from between his fingers. What he would give to have that feeling back.

"Hey," Eric interrupted his thoughts again. "Can I talk to you when we have some free time?"

"Uh, sure." What could Delko want to talk to him about?

The kiss, a little voice in his head chimed in. He wants to talk about the kiss