Miami. Present day:
"Hey Cal," Frank called from down the corridor, "You got a second?"
"Sure, what's up?"
The tall Texan rubbed a hand over his balding head as let out a frustrated sigh.
"I wanted you to be the first to know, I had a little run-in with IAB yesterday."
"Sargent Craig?"
"Yeah, that little witch."
Calleigh smiled at the description of the smartly dressed IAB officer, a fastidious and unlikeable little witch she certainly was.
"She came to see me too."
"She give you all that crap about the Malucci thing?"
"Both barrels," she replied sourly.
"I swear, Cal, if she'd been a guy I would have smacked her mid-way into next week the way she was running her mouth off."
"She's just trying to get a rise out of you. Don't let her get under your skin."
Frank straightened to his full height and placed his hands on his hips.
"I kinda find that hard to do when she spouting all sorts of crap about you and Horatio."
Flashback. Yesterday afternoon:
"Sargent Tripp, a moment of your time if you please."
He looked up and found himself staring into the face of the now infamous IAB officer, Sargent Hillary Craig. Rumours of her hard-nosed approach spread through the department like wildfire, the fierce young woman had put paid to a number of officers careers since she'd transferred from out of state last year.
"What do you want?" he asked gruffly as he returned his attention to the paperwork on his desk, he hated paperwork at the best of times but today it was preferable over a grilling from the woman in front of him.
"I'd like to speak with you privately, is there somewhere we can talk?"
He could feel the eyes of the room on him, no officer wanted to be caught talking to the IAB, that was how rumours of snitches and rats started.
"This way," he barked as he led her out of the bullpen and into a small, windowless room.
"Do you have something to hide, Sargent Tripp?" she asked coolly as she laid down her attaché case on the table and took a seat.
"Only my dislike for trolls like you."
She ignored the insult, treating it as if it were water off a duck's back.
"I take it that you know why I'm here."
"I couldn't give a damn why you're here. Why don't you spell it out for me?"
"I'm investigating two of your colleagues, CSI Duquesne and Lieutenant Caine."
"What about them?"
"The department needs to ascertain whether their actions were in contravention of department policy."
"Bullshit. You're just on a witch hunt."
"Think what you like, Sargent Tripp. The fact remains that we have four dead officers and seven dead civilians. Questions must be asked of what happened."
He crossed his arms across his chest and continued standing, as far away from the IAB officer as possible.
"I'm not helping you hang my colleagues for something they didn't do."
The smartly-dressed young woman looked at him with disapproving eyes.
"Do you really think that your colleagues would do the same for you if they were in your position?"
"I know they would. You're just a jumped-up pen-pusher; I bet you've never seen a day of real action out there on the streets in your life."
"Ah yes, the brotherhood between officers."
"Damn right. I know my colleagues have my back no matter what."
"So if you were in CSI Duquesne's shoes you would have done the same?"
"You mean would I throw everything I had at finding Horatio?"
The curt woman nodded her head.
"Of course I would have, nothing else mattered apart from getting him back in one piece."
"Even if it meant neglecting other cases that needed the department's attention?"
He huffed in frustration but said nothing, refusing to be goaded into tripping himself up.
"What about the dozens of officers who helped in the search, are you just expecting the department to pay for all of that unsanctioned overtime?"
"That was nothing to do with me, those men chose to come in during their time off."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. It might surprise you but the people here are a team and we stick together."
Flashback. Miami 8 weeks ago:
"Hey, partner, how you feeling?" Frank asked as he walked into his colleague's hospital room.
"Better, thanks. What am I missing at the lab?"
"Nothing much, pal. It's been strangely quiet this week," he mused as he made himself comfortable in the chair by the bed.
"That's never good, Francis."
"I know, I keep waiting for the penny to drop and all hell to break loose."
The two men smiled at each other, they had grown close since the Horatio had moved to Miami to start a new life with a new identity. So much could be said between them with just a simple look or nod of the head. Neither man would ever profess the depths of their feelings for each other but both of them knew that the bond between them ran deep.
"So, they throwing you out of here soon?" the stocky Texan drawled.
"Soon, I hope. Alexx says next week."
"I bet you can't wait."
"No, I can't. I'll be glad to see the back of this place."
"You and me both," Frank agreed.
He took a good look at his friend and colleague, he still looked haggard and the numerous injuries were still in different stages of healing but it was clear to see that Horatio looked a great deal better than he had when he'd been brought in nearly six weeks ago.
The grey and unattractive hospital gown had gone and had been replaced with an MDPD t-shirt and shorts. With the change of clothes seemed to come a change in temperament, Horatio appeared more hopeful and enthusiastic if still quite distant and quiet.
He hoped that a change of scenery would do Horatio some good and that he would find it easier to recover in surroundings that were familiar to him. That was until he realised that his friend's house was still a crime scene.
"I bet you'll miss the bed baths though," he suggested, trying to raise the other man's spirits.
He was disheartened when he saw the pained look on Horatio's face.
"I just want to go home, Frank," he said quietly as he ran his good hand over his clean-shaven face.
"You will, pal, I promise you. We're all going to do whatever it takes to get you back up on your feet."
"Frank….."
"No, Horatio. We're a team and we damn well look out for each other, you hear me?"
Miami. Yesterday afternoon:
"Tell me about the relationship between CSI Duquesne and Lieutenant Caine."
He gave the small woman a look of pure venom.
"They're colleagues."
"Are you sure there's nothing more to it than a professional admiration for one another?"
"Yes."
"Really?" Sargent Craig began as she walked around the room with her hands behind her back.
"I would have thought for a detective as seasoned as you that you would have noticed the signs by now."
"What signs?"
"The little looks, the brief body contact, the flirting…."
He refused to be spun into her web of deceit.
"They've known each other a long time, they have a close relationship."
"How close?"
"Pardon me?"
"How close are they? Are they just colleagues or are they sleeping together?"
"I wouldn't know."
"But you've just told me how you're such good friends with the Lieutenant, wouldn't he tell you something like that?"
"Look, lady. We're not the kind of guys who get together to paint each other's nails and talk about our love lives."
"What do you talk about?"
"What does it matter?"
"Maybe you should ask your colleagues where their loyalties really lay, Sargent Tripp. What do you think would happen if one of them was forced to make a decision between saving your life or the one they loved?"
He was tiring of the mental hoops the IAB officer was trying to make him jump through as he ran a hand over his face and snapped at her.
"If you have nothing reasonable to ask me then why don't you do us all a favour and get lost."
"I'll be seeing you, Sargent Tripp. Be assured of that."
Miami. Present day:
"You should watch your back, Cal. That evil little troll is after blood and I get the feeling she ain't gonna stop until she gets it."
"I appreciate the concern but she can throw whatever she wants at me; it's Horatio I'm worried about."
"Yeah, she made it pretty obvious that the department are looking for a scapegoat in all of this."
"Well, it won't be him," she replied confidently.
"And it sure as hell won't be you either," Frank responded with equal conviction.