A/N: As I'm sure you are aware by now, this story is a little A/U and therefore the childhood that was depicted in the series for Horatio did not take place in this universe. I just wanted to mention that to avoid any confusion for readers :-)
Nine year old John Kelly sat in his bedroom playing with the toy police car his father had brought him last week. The die-cast metal vehicle was an exact replica for the patrol car that his father drove along with his partner, Officer Scott.
He liked his dad's partner, the blond haired man was significantly taller than his father yet he had a kindly face that instantly put the young boy at ease. It also didn't hurt that Shaun was at least a decade younger than his father and a hell of a basketball player.
He'd shoot hoops with Shaun in the small back yard of the modest home he lived in with his parents. It wasn't a grand building but he knew his father worked hard to provide for his family, wanting to give them everything he could in life.
It didn't stop him from wishing that his father spent more time with him though, there were weeks when he would barely see him at all. He was at school during the day and his father would have to pull the nightshift on a rotational basis.
He'd learnt to make the most of the days that he did get to spend with his father; the man would lavish attention on him and join in with his latest flight of fancy. They would go out, just the two of them to the movies, pizza, ice cream, all the things a young boy loved to do with his dad.
He felt bad for wishing that he could spend more time with him but he knew the job his father did was an important one and to this nine year old boy, he was a hero.
He already knew what he wanted to be when he grew up, a police officer just like his father. He would serve the city and wear his badge with pride, protecting the innocent and the needy, just like his father did.
His mother had called out to him over an hour ago to get into bed and turn in for the night, much like other young boys, he lied and told his mother what she wanted to hear, lying wide awake in his bed for at least twenty minutes before creeping out silently and returning to his game of cops and robbers.
He was almost at the point of apprehending his imaginary suspect when he heard the front doorbell chime. It seemed strange for someone to be calling this late in the evening and the would-be police officer in him was intrigued.
After hearing the front door open and close he made his way over to his bedroom door and listened through the thin wood.
"Catherine, you need to sit down for a moment."
He recognised the voice instantly; it was that of his father's partner. Even to his young ears he knew the man sounded sad.
He would never forget the wailing scream his mother let out for the rest of his life as it pierced the cold night air. Unable to move from the spot he was frozen in, he listened as his mother sobbed uncontrollably as she repeated the same word over and over.
"Why?"
"Shhhh, it'll be ok, Catherine. I promise," the male voice soothed.
He had no idea why he did it, a few moments later he opened his bedroom door and stole a glance out towards the living room where he saw his mother's tear-streaked face as she buried it into the man's shoulder.
He froze as he made eye contact with Shaun and his first thought was that he would be in trouble for being caught out of his bed after dark. Instead, the young officer gave him a sad smile and motioned for him to come closer.
He took a few shaky steps forward, still not really understanding what was going on. He watched nervously as the man disengaged himself from the sobbing woman and knelt down before him.
"Johnny, I have to tell you something and it's gonna upset you. I need you to be a man about it when I tell you, ok?"
He nodded his head nervously as he felt his bottom lip quiver.
The officer took a deep breath and wiped roughly at the tears that were streaming down own his face.
"Your dad and I…we were called out to a crime…..the suspect was armed…they shot him buddy," the man's voice cracked as he spoke.
"Will he be ok?" he asked with all the naivety of a nine year old boy.
The officer shook his head sadly.
"No, Johnny. They couldn't save your dad…..I'm sorry."
He felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace as the tears began to fall from his own eyes; he looked up into the dulled blue eyes of his mother and gave her a watery smile.
"Don't cry, Mom. I'll take care of us."
His face fell when he heard his mother begin wailing again, he broke away from the man and rushed to her side, clinging on to her desperately as he felt her kiss the same auburn hair that she had.
"I love you, Johnny," she sobbed as she held him tighter.
"I love you too, Mom."
"We'll get through this, Johnny. I promise you we'll get through this, ok?"
He didn't know what else to say, he was just a boy, but now he was a fatherless one too.
"Ok, Mom."
Calleigh let out a sigh of relief as she heard Horatio's breathing even out, satisfied that he was well on his way to a restful sleep. It had torn at her how reluctant he was to climb back into the bed they had shared for several months after the drama from the night before.
It had taken much cajoling, but he finally relented and allowed himself to be led towards the soft and inviting pillows that seemed to be calling out to him. He had tried, and failed, to keep as much of his body covered up as possible, not wanting the woman he loved to see the physical marks of his brutalisation, so intent was he on trying to block the memories from his mind.
He knew that the doctor he had been forced to see was right, he needed to face what had happened head-on. The truth was that he just didn't have the energy to do it tonight. His issues had waited this long, what was another day?
Calleigh had not taken 'no' for an answer, insisting that the summer heat at night was reason enough to wear as little as possible in bed. They had compromised on the boxer shorts though; he would only go so far to keep her happy.
She had held him in her arms as she rubbed soothing circles over his scarred back and arms, he had flinched and tensed at first but soon found himself becoming increasingly drowsy as he disengaged himself and turned onto his back with a deep sigh.
She didn't want to let him leave her arms, yet she knew that was his preferred sleeping position, one that he had gotten so used to as he lay flat on his back in beds for weeks after his rescue. She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his chest, the chest that still bore the ugly reminders of the Malucci's and what they had done to him.
It was a few hours later when she began to hear him murmur softly.
"Don't cry, Mom. I'll take care of us," he muttered sadly as his arms reached out to someone unseen.
She lifted her head from his chest to get a better look at him and was dismayed to find that tears were leaking from his eyes.
He looked so sad….and scared, yet he seemed more concerned about the person he was talking to.
She heard his breath hitch as he nodded his head.
"Ok, Mom," he spoke quietly once more as he bit on his bottom lip, trying to stall the quivering flesh.
She debated whether to wake him, the dream was clearly upsetting him yet it didn't seem to be one of the horrific night terrors that he often experienced. She lowered herself back down and ran soothing circles over his chest until she finally felt him relax under her touch.
When she was satisfied that he had returned to a peaceful sleep she felt her own eyes grow heavier and made a promise to herself that she would try once more to get him to open up and talk about the past that he seemed so intent on hiding from her.
Busying herself in the kitchen the next morning, she brewed a fresh pot of coffee as she heard the water in the shower upstairs being turned off. Horatio was the kind of person who always needed to greet the day with a mug of strong black coffee and even though it had become somewhat of an uphill battle, Calleigh was determined that he would eat something before he left the house too.
"Good morning, Calleigh," he said quietly as he entered the kitchen, placing his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs.
She gave him a sweet smile before returning her attention to the coffee pot.
"How did you sleep?" she asked as she kept her gaze on the mugs of steaming hot liquid she was pouring.
Risking a glance at him, she saw him frown and rub a distracted hand over the back of his neck.
"Fine, I think. I didn't disturb you did I?"
Her heart sank, why was his first thought that he had done something wrong, that he was inevitably to blame for something, no matter how small?
"No, you didn't," she replied as she brought the mugs to the table and motioned for him to sit down, "You were mumbling in your sleep, you weren't having a nightmare but you were talking to someone. You kept calling out to your mother," she finished quietly.
He immediately tensed, pushing away from the chair abruptly and moving to the other side of the kitchen.
"You seemed upset…..you were crying. Tell me about it...please," she pleaded.
"Calleigh," he began before she interrupted him.
"You never talk about New York, I feel like you don't trust me."
His eyes widened, shocked that Calleigh would think his reluctance to talk about his past was due to the fact he didn't trust her, of course he did, he just didn't trust himself to be able to block the memories from his mind and the negative emotions that they would entail. No, it was best just to ignore it and hope that it would go away.
"After everything we've been through, why won't you trust me?"
He ran a hand through his still damp hair as he saw the distraught look on her face.
"It's not you that I don't trust….."
"Please, Horatio…..let me in."
His subconscious screamed at him to look away, yet he was helpless to stop it as he felt himself getting caught and then hopelessly lost in those mesmerising green eyes of hers.
"My father was in the NYPD too," he began as he sat back down at the table. "He was a beat cop at the 27th Precinct. He loved his job even though it meant that I didn't get to spend as much time with him as I would've liked."
"I remember one evening that there was a knock on our front door, my father's partner came to tell us that he'd been shot and killed attending a disturbance. I remember my mother wailing when the officer told her what had happened…I remember telling her that it would be ok and that I'd look after us."
"How old were you?"
He closed his eyes at the distressing memory.
"Nine."
"My God, Horatio…"
He interrupted her before she could continue.
"It doesn't matter now, it's ancient history."
"What happened to your mother, is she still alive?"
He shook his head sadly.
"No. She died not long after I was kicked off the force."
Flashback. New York 1994:
Things were spiralling out of control much faster than he would have liked. The last few weeks seemed to have passed in somewhat of a blur. He'd been caught red-handed with half a kilo of coke, drugs that he had deliberately removed from a crime scene in order to keep his undercover role a secret. Days later his FBI handler, Agent Collins, had sold him out to Internal Affairs. He'd been arrested, stripped of his shield and gun and hauled before a judge. His life and career, everything he had worked so hard for, had been ripped to pieces in a number of days.
The people that he cared about despised him, they thought that he was nothing more than a liar and a dirty cop, a cop who took money and bribes for one of the biggest crime families in the city. Everyone except his mother that was, she had been spared the pain and misery of his fall from grace, the dementia that had gripped her for the past decade prevented her from realising what her son had really become.
He knew it was selfish, yet he needed to some human contact, he'd moved out of his old apartment and kept himself hidden from those he loved, knowing that it would make it easier for him to maintain the image that he had betrayed them all to line his own pockets.
He made his way quietly into his mother's room and found her laying on her bed attempting to cross stitch a pattern of some sort, she placed it down on her lap when she saw him come in.
"Hi, Mom," he said as he kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
"Hello, dear, come to visit me again?"
"Sure have. What are you making?" he asked as he pointed to the needle and thread in her lap.
"It's a picture for Johnny," she said proudly, "do you think he'll like it?"
His heart sank as he realised that his mother had once more confused him with his dead father.
"I'm sure he will," he replied as he gave her hand a light squeeze.
"I worry about him, he's just a boy…..A boy needs his father, John."
He felt the tears welling in his eyes, knowing that even in the grips of her illness she still maintained moments of startling clarity. She was right; he needed his father, now more than ever.
"You need to spend more time with him, he idolises you."
"I will," he choked out as he felt the tears escaping and rolling freely down his cheeks.
After a few moments silence, Catherine Kelly spoke once more.
"Johnny, what's the matter, why are you crying?"
His mother had once more returned to the present as she cupped his face in both hands.
"I'm fine, Mom."
"You're a good boy, Johnny. A good man, just like your father."
He bit furiously on his bottom lip as he willed it to stop shaking. How could he tell his mother what he had become, that he wasn't the man she thought he was?
"I love you, Mom. No matter what happens…..know that I love you."
He gave her one final peck on the forehead before bolting from the room, unable to control the emotions that were trying to overwhelm him. Would he have stayed if he knew then that would be the last time he would see her alive?
It didn't matter now, she had died but at least he had spared her taking the knowledge that her son was no more than a petty crook to the grave with her. She would never know what her son had become and the horrific things that he had done to protect the ones around him.
Present day. Miami:
"My God, Horatio. I'm so sorry," Calleigh gasped as the information began to sink in.
He shrugged his shoulders as he finished the last of his coffee.
"It's in the past, there's nothing I can do about it now."
Reliving those painfully memories made him think about the relationship that he had with his own son. Their stories were different yet similar in a number of ways, both of them had been denied a father in their young lives, there was nothing either of them could do about their pasts, yet he knew he could take control of the future and make sure that he did all he could for his son, guiding him through the pitfalls of the transition between boy and man. Perhaps if his own father were still alive he wouldn't have made the choices he had all those years ago. Choices that he'd lived to regret.