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Flashback. Miami 1997:
Frank Tripp sat heavily behind his desk as he tried to take in the news Horatio had just given him, "I don't get it, why are you being transferred?"
The redhead shrugged his shoulders as he sat opposite his partner, "Your guess is as good as mine, I got the call this morning."
"So when are you leaving?"
He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face, "At the end of the week, I'm to report to Al Humphries next Monday." Looking down at his hands he finished quietly, "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing you can do to stop it?"
Horatio shook his head sadly as he fiddled mindlessly with a report on his desk.
Frank cleared his throat, "I'm….uh…God, I don't know how to say this."
His partner's head shot up, "How to say what, Frank?"
The balding detective hesitated until the other man motioned for him to continue, "I'm gonna miss you."
He couldn't help but smile, the first few weeks of their relationship had been more than a little rocky. The two of them were constantly sniping at each other and there was a distinct lack of trust mainly on Frank's part. Horatio would have given anything to tell his new partner how he had really come to be in Miami but he knew that to do so would put more than just himself in danger. He couldn't blame Frank for his wariness, his attempts to inhabit his new identity had been average for the most part, stumbling over the questions he was being asked as he tried to remember all the facets of his new persona. As time went by he became more comfortable in the guise of Horatio Caine until he hardly remembered his life as John Kelly. He'd found himself adopting a different way of carrying himself and even the way he talked, he wasn't sure it was an entirely conscious decision or something borne of necessity to keep his real identity and past a secret. To some people his penchant for standing side-on and not making eye contact could be misconstrued as him being standoffish or arrogant when the truth behind it was that he didn't want people looking into his eyes, it was the one thing that he knew would gave him away.
Four weeks into his partnership with Frank Tripp and they were barely speaking to each other and only then in a professional capacity, it was then that they got a call-out that would change the dynamic of their relationship forever. They had been called to a shoot-out between two rival gangs which had left three men dead, deciding to split up seemed like a better idea than interviewing the witnesses together, the distance between them helping to ease the palpable tension in the air. Horatio finished talking to a young Hispanic woman and after giving her his card and a soft smile he made his way back over to his partner. The roar of an engine could be heard in the distance and he didn't think much of it until the black Pontiac came hurtling down the street towards the crime scene. He began running towards Frank trying to warn him of the impending danger when a glint of sunlight shone off of something metal, he saw the gun before he heard the shot go off and launched himself at his much taller and heavier partner.
The pair of them fell to the ground with a grunt and landed unceremoniously on the sidewalk, "You ok?" Horatio asked as he rolled off of Frank and onto his back, breathing heavily.
His partner pulled himself up into a sitting position as he dusted his suit off, "What the hell just happened?"
"Looks like one of the gangs came back to finish the job, are you hit?"
Frank checked himself over for injuries but found none apart from his pride, that and having the air knocked out of him. "I'm fine, which is more than I can say for you."
The redhead gave him a puzzled look and followed Frank's gaze to his left arm, the blood seeping through his grey suit began to spread and he could feel it trickling down his arm. His body didn't register the pain until he saw the injury for himself. Raising his right hand he attempted to staunch the flow of blood but found the warm liquid running slowly through his fingers.
Frank stood up and held his hands out to help Horatio up, after a couple of attempts and a lot of wobbling the redhead had finally made it to an upright position and tried to wave his partner's concern off. "It's probably just a scratch." Even he didn't believe that especially when his vision started to blur a little around the edges, the blood loss and shock finally starting to set in.
Horatio was surprised to find Frank waiting outside the ER for him a few hours later; the bullet had passed straight through muscle in his upper arm and had been stitched and cleaned before being bandaged. The doctor had advised him to rest the injured apendage as much as possible and confined him to desk duty for at least a fortnight. He trundled from the cubicle with his tail between his legs and his arm in a sling, it was only when he heard the gruff Texan voice that he realised he wasn't alone. "Come to see if I'm dead?" he asked testily as the painkillers they had given him in the hospital began to wear off.
The other man shoved his hands in his pockets and huffed, "I stayed to make sure you were alright, you needed someone to drive you home."
"Want to come and see where I'm hiding all my drugs and money?"
"Fine, have it your way."
He knew he'd been an idiot, Frank was trying to make peace and all he had done was throw it back in his face. "I'm sorry; it's been a long day. A lift home would be great."
As they drove Frank turned his head to look at him, "You saved my life today."
He tried to shrug his shoulders but sucked in a deep breath of air as his left arm complained of the movement. "I'm sure you would have done the same for me."
"To be honest I wasn't sure if you would have had my back. Guess I've been pretty hard on you since we met."
He was in no mood for mind games and so he answered honestly, "Yes, you have."
"I was wrong. You tell anyone I said that and I'll deny it 'til I'm blue in the face."
It wasn't what he was expecting to hear, "Your secret is safe with me, don't worry."
"Look, Horatio, could we maybe start again?"
It was the first time he'd called him by just his first name since they'd met, "Sure, I'd like that."
Miami. Present day:
"Over the years we both came and went yet somehow we always managed to cross paths regularly. We've been in more scrapes than you could shake a stick at and since that day in '97 I knew you'd always have my back." Frank's words were sincere as he tried to make the confused man in front of him understand how much he was loved and respected.
Horatio pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "I don't remember any of it."
Frank was spared from trying to offer words of reassurance by the front door opening and closing, he got up quickly from the couch and reached for his gun, he relaxed his stance when he saw the ballistics expert for the Miami Dade Crime Lab enter the room. He made his goodbyes and left quickly, glad to avoid upsetting his close friend more than he already had.
Calleigh sat beside Horatio and placed a hand on his knee, "I went to pick some things up at the lab for you." Taking the photos out of her purse she handed them to him, "I thought you might like to look at these, they might help to jog your memory."
He felt a stab of pain run through his chest as he gazed at the picture of him and Lori, it was one of his favourite pictures of her, he loved the way her hair fell seductively around her beautiful face and that look of pure passion in her eyes as they posed for the camera. He felt even worse when he saw the photo of him and Andy standing outside their precinct in Manhattan, hands on hips with guns and shields on full display, his heart ached for those precious days that now seemed so far behind.
His hand shook as he looked at each picture in turn; the last few of them were full of people he didn't recognise. He guessed that they were taken at the lab as Eric and Calleigh were in the pictures too, it didn't pass his notice that a young, dark-haired sullen man was only in one of the group photos. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, "He's dead, isn't he?"