A/N: I would just like to take a moment to wish all of my American readers a very happy and safe 4th July, I hope you have fun!
She lay quietly next to him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, allowing it to lull her to a state of relaxation where she felt she could finally get some rest herself. She wasn't sure how much longer they could carry on like this, Horatio had instigated the physical contact between them this time and yet he still couldn't seem to put the demons that haunted him out of his mind.
He was angry and bitter at what he perceived as his repeated failure to please her, giving into the passion and need that he felt for her only to pull away suddenly. Deep down she knew that it wasn't because he didn't love her or was not attracted to her; he had made that perfectly clear. His problem was with himself, something deep inside of him held him back from giving in to what they both wanted.
He'd barely said a word as they got ready for bed and stared sightlessly at the ceiling as he laid down, the twitching of the muscles in his jaw clear evidence of his tense state. Talking to him when he was like this was futile, time and experience over the last few months had taught her that. He needed time to think things over and come to his own conclusions about what had happened. Those conclusions usually revolved around the stubborn man apportioning the blame on himself and it would take a great deal of time and effort for him to see otherwise.
She watched as his eyes grew heavier and eventually closed, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw his body begin to finally relax. She felt the tension draining from her own body as she lay on her side watching him breathe.
How could he not know how special he was, how much he meant to her?
Those were the last thoughts on her mind as she closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.
Looking up into the blinding light before him he smiled as he saw her waiting there for him, at the same table they had shared in his last vision of her.
"Marisol," he breathed as he took in her angelic form, smiling as she leant over the table and touched his face.
"It's been too long, my love," she responded as she gave him a wistful smile.
"I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Horatio."
He wanted so much to stay there, praying that their time together would never end. The longing to sit at the table, gazing at her beautiful face, this was what Heaven was meant to feel like.
It was then that he felt the pain all over, groaning as he felt it wash over him, burning his skin as if he were on fire. The breath rushed from his body as he gasped, grabbing onto his abdomen with both hands, the torturous pain threatening to eat him alive.
With all the strength he could muster he looked up at his beloved wife and was shocked to see her smiling as she moved further away from him.
"Where are you going?" he asked in a pained whisper, she grinned gleefully at him, taking pleasure in his discomfort.
"I am going back to where I belong…..Heaven," she replied as she pointed at the bright light behind her.
"Wait…I need your help," he begged as the pain drove him to his knees.
She shook her head as she took another step back.
"You don't belong with us…you belong down there."
He followed her finger as she pointed to the dry and arid ground he was kneeling on, watching as the ground began to smoulder around him.
He squinted as she moved further into the distance, she stood by a set of tall white gates and it was then he saw the figures of his mother and father, Speed, Robin and Jesse, all smiling at him as they took pleasure in his suffering.
The gates slammed shut with a loud 'clang' as the group stood behind them, smiling.
"You will never escape from what you've done," his mother told him as she shook her head sadly.
His father placed a hand on his wife's shoulder to comfort her.
"This is the way it has to be, Cathy. The boy needs to learn that a sinner never changes his ways. God has a special place for men like him."
The ground around him began sizzling and spitting as the flames tore at his skin, he felt the burning embers bite into him and consume him as he screamed for mercy.
The Lord would show him no mercy as he continued to be consumed by the flames, the flames of hate, of hurt and betrayal. It was too much to hope that he would pass out from the pain, the welcoming darkness never came as the fire burned ever brighter around him and he knew then that this was his punishment, his penance.
He would burn forever for what he had done.
It was pointless, yet he couldn't help the scream that rushed from his lips.
"NO!"
Calleigh shot awake when she heard the tortured scream from the man lying next to her. A noise loud enough that it caused Moses to jump from the bottom of the bed and leave the room that he shared with his masters.
He'd had nightmares before; she'd seen enough of them to know. Yet this one was different, never had she heard such a feral and violent noise emanate from his weary body. She watched in horror as he sat bolt upright in the bed, panting and trembling.
He shot from the bed as she began reaching out a hand to him, stumbling in his haste to make it to the bathroom in time as his stomach rebelled. The sound of his retching became pitiful as he brought up the little he'd eaten at dinner.
The sight of him hunched over the toilet was heart-breaking, hugging the porcelain with shaky arms as he knelt before it, his eyes screwed shut.
"Are you ok?" she asked shakily, before berating herself for asking such a stupid question.
He looked at her with bloodshot eyes that were rimmed with dark circles, proof if any was needed that he had barely slept recently.
"You wanna talk about it?"
He shook his head.
"It was a bad one, wasn't it?"
He nodded his head sadly as he covered his face with his hands, wiping the perspiration from his face.
She held out a hand to him and was relieved when several moments later he took it and allowed her to lead him back to the bedroom. He stood still when he saw the bed, caught in two minds as to whether he wanted to return to the one place where he couldn't seem to rid himself of the memories of his past.
He placed his faith in her as she gently pulled him towards the bed and guided him to the pillows. Faith was an alien concept to him at the moment; it had been years since he had put any stock in his Catholic beliefs. Surely God had deserted his wayward child by now, turning his back on a man who had lied and betrayed all of the people he was supposed to care about.
There had been times when he had prayed for forgiveness or some sign that what he was being made to do was for the greater good, yet he had found none. His God had left him to suffer, left him alone in a cruel and harsh world to fend for himself.
What kind of God would subject him to the barbaric abuse he suffered at the hands of the Malucci's?
Even today, he had sought guidance from the Lord yet by night he was shown once more that God would not forgive him for what he had done, that he would forever be condemned to the fiery pits of Hell, never to see his loved ones again.
Calleigh was like an angel to him, a beautiful vision of all the things he could have had if only he'd made different choices. He sometimes questioned whether he was already in Hell, having the woman of his dreams so close to him yet unable to give into his deepest desires for her. Having her close yet not being able to have her in the way he wanted, it was such sweet torture to him and far more painful than anything Gianni or Danny could ever have dreamt up to punish him.
Flashback. Miami 6 weeks ago:
Andy pulled at the stiff collar of his button-down shirt as he stood awkwardly on the porch outside, cursing the heat and humidity of Miami. He ceased his fidgeting as he heard the door creak open slowly, smiling as the face of a blonde-haired young man gazed up at him.
"Coast clear, kid?" he asked as he adjusted the paper sack in his hands, looking left and right in an exaggerated manner.
"Don't worry, Mr Sipowicz. Calleigh's at the lab," he smiled back as he opened the door wider and beckoned his visitor in.
"How many more times, Kyle? You call me Andy, you got it?"
"Yes, sir," the young man smiled back as he led his father's old partner into the kitchen.
"Where's your old man?" Andy questioned as he set the bag down on the table and began unloading it.
"On the back porch," Kyle replied as he inclined his head in the direction of the sliding glass doors. "What have you got in there?" he asked a few moments later.
Andy looked up at him and smiled.
"I found some scientific, geeky magazines I thought he might like. Oh, and I got these," he proclaimed proudly as he held a smaller bag up.
"Pretzels?"
"Don't look at me like that, kid. Your old man used to love these puppies back in the old days. I figured that some things never change."
The boy smiled at him sadly.
"I also brought proper coffee and bagels from the diner down the road."
"Thanks, Mr….." Kyle paused as he saw the wizened old man arch an eyebrow at him. "I mean….Andy."
The stocky man smiled at Kyle as he followed him out onto the back porch and found his old partner sitting in a comfy chair, surrounded by cushions.
"Hey, Stringbean. I heard you were up and about, how you feeling?" he asked as he lowered himself down to one of the wooden chairs at the table.
Even though the man was wearing sunglasses he could see the warm smile that crossed John's face.
"I'm doing…well, Andy."
"How are the eyes?" he questioned as he handed his friend a Styrofoam cup, having the forethought to take the lid off first.
The sunglasses did a poor job of hiding the frown that crossed the younger man's face.
"Getting there, Alexx says they should be fine…with time," he finished quietly.
"Hey, mind if I join you?"
The two men looked up as Kyle made his way onto the porch and sat down.
"Of course not, son."
Horatio might have been injured and weak but he wasn't blind, he could see that there was something bothering his son, there was something that the young man felt he needed to say.
"What is it, Kyle?" he asked softly as he stared intently at the boy.
Kyle had no idea how he was going to break the news to his father, the last few days had been a step in the right direction in his recovery, breaking the news that he had to return to his unit would not go down well.
"I had a call from my commanding officer yesterday," he began as he fiddled with the cup in his hands, suddenly feeling awkward that all eyes were on him.
There was no easy way to say it, perhaps it was just best to blurt it out and deal with the consequences afterwards.
"I have to report to my new posting in two weeks."
He felt awful as he watched the tremor that ran through his father's uninjured hand; he leant forward and took the coffee from him gently.
The movement seemed to bring Horatio back to reality as he shook his head slightly. "Where?" he asked after a long pause.
"Camp Blanding. It's in Florida so at least I'll be able to visit at weekends, it's not too far to travel, Dad."
An uncomfortable silence filled the air and Andy suddenly wished he'd been anywhere else at that moment, stuck between a boy who was terrified and a man who was equally as scared but for very different reasons. This wasn't a conversation that he should ever have been privy to.
The atmosphere became more than Kyle could bear as he watched the emotions flicker across his vulnerable father's face. He'd hoped the good spell that they'd been experiencing would last for a few more days at least. It was too much to hope for now; he had single-handedly destroyed the little foundations that his father had managed to rebuild in one single blow. He'd taken away his father's happiness, the situation had been all his doing, he'd caused his father this pain.
"I need another coffee," he stammered as he shot from his chair and made his way back inside the house, pulling the screen door closed behind him.
He sat at the table with his head in his hands, hating himself for what he'd just done.
"John."
"Hey, John?"
Andy's raised voice roused him from the stupor he'd fallen into; he turned to look at him, dazed.
"You ok, John? Talk to me."
He opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to.
"He'll still be in Florida, you'll still see him."
He stared straight ahead, still unable to speak.
"He's safe, John. You don't need to worry about him; it's not like….."
His next words were cut off as John slammed his injured arm down heavily on the wooden table, causing the cups of coffee to bounce and spill everywhere.
"He's my son!" the younger man yelled as his eyes shot towards his former partner.
It was only after the anger began to dissipate that he realised that slamming his recently pinned and plated arm onto a hard and unyielding surface was not a particularly bright idea as the pain began to shoot through the abused area, throbbing in rhythm with his heart.
"I'm supposed to keep him safe," he whispered.
"He's a big boy now, I'm pretty sure he's just like his old man, he'll be able to look after himself."
"It's my job to protect him. Do you have any idea how pathetic I feel that I can't protect my son?"
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
Andy's comment caught him off-guard as he looked at him in confusion.
"Did you ever stop and wonder how I felt when I thought you'd gone rogue. How many times I lay awake at night wondering if I could have done something different, if I could have protected you somehow."
His injured friend opened his mouth to reply but he wouldn't let him, not until he'd finished saying his piece.
"When they found your body…when I thought you were dead…I realised then that I'd failed you and that your death was on my hands."
"You hated me, Andy; you told me that you hated me."
"I was angry, John. Mainly at myself….If I'd just paid more attention to what was going on with you, if I'd been the partner you deserved then maybe you wouldn't have ended up in the mess that you did."
"Andy, there was nothing you could have done. I made those choices."
"And so has Kyle. The Army is his career; it's what he's chosen to do. Don't make the poor kid feel bad for having to do his job, it's not his fault."
He felt awful as he saw the look of dismay on John's face.
"I would never…"
"But you are. Let him make his own choices and be his own man, he's not some weak little boy that needs protecting anymore. He needs to know that his father is proud of him."
"Of course I am."
"Then show him. Show him, that he can be just as strong as his father is. Don't let what those animals did to you ruin what you have with your kid. You don't get a second chance at being a father…..believe me, I know."