Chapter Sixty-five: The Two of Us
Before Speed could the lab he was cornered by Horatio. His boss had an odd expression on his face, one that Speed could not read for the life of him. But he felt a sudden surge of worry, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was late, really late, nearing midnight the last time that he glanced up from the evidence. A bit of wandering around the lab showed him that all the others were gone, probably snug at home in their beds. He'd been so wrapped up in what he'd been doing that he let time slip away, and now he was tired, ready to venture home, get some shut eye. And he had been on his way to the locker room when he crossed paths with Horatio. That's when his boss decided that they needed to talk.
Speed wondered what it could be about, and why it seemed like everybody suddenly wanted to have a word with him. He thought for a fleeting moment that he could broach the subject about turning Mite into a forensic dog but then remembered the tone of Horatio's voice. It would have to wait until another time. He worried the entire way to Horatio's office, thinking possibly that he might just skip out, ditch the meeting and head home for some sleep. He could return to his apartment, let the impending conversation wait until the next day. He was tired, after all.
The more he thought about the more he wanted to sleep, his pace slowing as he neared the hall with Horatio's office. When he reached the corner he drew to a halt, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Mite stood at his side, void of leash, waiting patiently for him to make a move. And like that Speed made up his mind. He turned, heading back down the hallway making his escape. Surely when the morning came his boss would understand. Sleep was important to someone like him, to someone in his line of work. The slightest misjudgment could result in someone losing their life. He didn't want to put himself, or his friends, at that risk. At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he ventured outside into the cool night air. Despite the hour the city kept going around him, people always having places to be, things to do. He made it halfway across the parking lot before he heard Horatio yell his name.
He stopped in his tracks, his head hanging down, not bothering to turn around and watch as his boss approached. Had that been a note of disappointment that he heard in Horatio's voice?
"We need to talk, Speed," Horatio said, now standing behind Speed.
"I'm tired, can it wait until tomorrow?"
"No, I'm afraid it can't," came the response.
Speed had been afraid that he would hear those words. Slowly he turned to face his boss, realizing the he kept thinking of Horatio as his boss instead of his friend. When had that started happening? Was it some sort of unconscious sign? "Okay…."
"Eric came to me the other day…"
A stab of pain ran through Speed's chest, knowing instantly where this conversation was headed. He really should learn to keep his mouth shut, think before speaking, let some thoughts remain in his head for his own private entertainment.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Horatio asked when he read the expression on Speed's face.
He shook his head. "Not particularly."
Horatio sighed, hands on his hips. Apparently there was no way of getting out of this, no way of dodging the conversation. He knew the look on Horatio's face all too well, that hint of disappointment, the dash of worry. "Speed, every time I start to think you're making progress you take a step back. I understand, to a degree, that you made the offer because of the way Eric feels for you. However, that does not justify what…." He shook his head. "Seriously, no strings attached? Speed, do I need to worry about you?"
The word no popped into his mind instantly, yet he couldn't find it within himself to actually speak that simple word. In the long run it never turned out to be that simple. They stood in the darkness, the two of them quietly regarding each other. He was trying to figure out the right thing to say, the right way to get out of this conversation but nothing came to him. Nothing but the truth, and he wasn't willing to admit that to himself, never mind speaking the words out loud.
"Tim?"
"Fine," his voice wavered, giving away his lie.
Horatio waited patiently.
Speed sighed. "I…" He massaged the back of his neck out of nervous habit. "There are thoughts…fleeting thoughts of actions…for the most part I can keep them to myself, keep….from acting on them or voicing them. But…"
"Sometimes they break free." Horatio sounded understanding.
Amazingly he felt himself nodding.
Horatio regarded him, studied his face. "Speed, tell me the truth, do I need to worry about you? Are there thoughts in there, dark, unfriendly thoughts?"
Unconsciously he rubbed at the scar on his arm, remembering how it came to be there. This time he found it far too easy to lie, the simple word that eluded him earlier popping out before he could give it proper thought. "No."
No sooner had he said the word then he realized that Horatio didn't believe him. He could read it on his boss's face. However, Horatio let it slide, for reasons he couldn't figure out. Perhaps he didn't want to know. For all he knew Horatio planned to have a longer conversation with him the next day. Somewhat reluctantly, maybe hoping for Speed to make the next step, Horatio told him to go home, get some sleep. He knew that he should have stayed, should have talked about some of the things bouncing around in his mind. But that meant talking about things he didn't want to admit to himself so he let the whole conversation go, turned and headed for his vehicle, Mite right at his side.
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When he got home, the hallway of the apartment building smelling like burned popcorn, a smell he found repulsive, he could barely make it to his apartment door. He was so tired, literally dragging his feet. There would be no way he'd make it to the bedroom; it looked like he would be crashing on the couch. With some luck he would remember to secure his gun before passing out into the pleasant state of slumber. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, Horatio passing through his mind for some reason, reaching for the door knob. When the door opened he looked longingly toward his bedroom, knowing that he did not have the strength to make it there, the phrase 'dead on his feet' popping into his mind. He didn't want to think like that.
Stepping into the apartment he heard the crunch of paper under foot. Looking down he noticed a slip of paper on the carpet. Frowning he bent down to pick it up, wondering what it could possibly be. Then he saw his name scrawled in the familiar handwriting of his friend. That's when he remembered that Delko wanted to talk to him, though the time never presented itself. Closing the door, making sure to set the locks, he wandered over to the couch, dropping a few of his things on the coffee table. Mite immediately hopped onto the couch, curling up into a little ball.
In the glow of a lamp he flipped open the folded paper, reading the carefully handwritten words. Life never seems to work out the way that we want, thought that no longer surprises me. I really wanted to talk with you tonight but the time never seemed right. Before I left the lab I swung by to see if maybe we could ride together, yet you were so into your work that I felt it would have been wrong to bother you. You didn't notice me standing in the hall, watching you. I like doing that sometimes, I admit; watching you when you don't notice that I am looking. It gives me a chance to see you, the you that you were before the shooting. Might be hard for some people to believe but I do remember how things were back then, Speed, back before you nearly…died. Before I got shot in the head. I remember every minute I have spent in your presence, every word that you have ever said to me. There are a lot of things that I want to tell you, so many things that I need to get off my mind. When the time comes I hope you will be willing to listen, without judgment, without interruption. Delko
He read the note a second time before folding the paper and tossing it on the coffee table. He should have given the note more thought, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He just managed to get his shoes off before nodding off, sleep finally laying claim to him.