A/N: I just wanted to take this opportunity to welcome a new writer to the boards, Belle Goode. If you haven't already, please check out her profile and have a read of her work, I'm sure you'll agree that she's a fine addition to the site!
Present day. Miami:
"So you feel guilty for placing your elderly mother in a care facility?" Jeff asked as he tried to gain some understanding of what was driving his client's self-loathing.
"I should've taken care of her; it's what my father would've done."
"But you're not your father, in as much the same way that Kyle is not you." Jeff noticed the confused expression on the other man's face. "You did what was best for your mother at the time, just as you did when you risked your life infiltrating that gang."
Horatio shook his head, frustrated that Jeff couldn't see what he meant. "I betrayed them and made them hate me, people I loved died hating me. I can never take that back, no matter how hard I try."
"You believe in God, don't you?"
Horatio nodded his head slightly as he kept his gaze down.
"Then surely you know that they're up there looking down on you, knowing why you did those things, that you did them for the greater good."
"Then why do I feel like this?"
The pain in the blue eyes of his client was all too clear to see.
"Because you've had your life turned upside down in the most horrible of ways. Everything that you've kept hidden for so long has hit you all at once and that poor old brain of yours can't keep up anymore."
"Then what do you suggest?" Horatio asked tiredly as he ran a hand over his face.
"I would suggest trying to let things go…..but I know that is easier said than done. You need to face your past before you can move on from it. Tell me about your mother's death."
Flashback. New York 1994:
"Ok, thank you for your call."
He placed the phone back in its cradle sightlessly as he stared into space, seeing but not taking in the sparse surroundings of his new home. He'd left his old apartment in Queens in a hurry just days after being kicked out of the NYPD . He knew that people would want to know why he'd done it and there was no way he could face them without wanting to admit to everything.
He had convinced himself that it was better to run and hide, let them think that he was a dirty cop on the take. It might have been cowardly, but he couldn't stand to see the look of betrayal or disgust on their faces when they looked at him.
He could remember the harsh words he spoke to Andy the day he had been arrested, his partner had tried to reach out to him, to understand why he had agreed to work for a criminal organisation, and he had done the only thing he could think of, he'd lashed out at Andy and pushed him away. He still felt deep shame at the hurtful things he had said to him, it would only have been worse if he had spoken those same words to his own father.
He'd betrayed his father's good name and everything the man had worked for, the name John Kelly would forever be synonymous with greed and betrayal, everything an upstanding police officer wasn't. His mother, had she had the faculties to understand, would have been heartbroken to learn what he'd become. He had visited her a few short weeks ago, intent on confessing his sins and telling her the truth, and yet when it came to it he knew that he couldn't go through with it.
After turning everyone else away, his mother was the only person that he cared about that was left in his life and the only one who didn't hate him. It had been selfish need that had driven him to visit her, well aware that Collins or the Malucci brothers were likely tracking his every step, either one of them unscrupulous enough to use his ailing mother against him. He had risked both of their safety; he needed to see her, to seek comfort from the one person who he knew would never desert him, not like the others.
The ease with which they believed he was a crooked cop and the way that his loved ones had deserted him was a bitter pill to swallow. All it had taken was a few harsh words and Andy had turned his back on him, although he was in no position to judge, he felt let down by the man he considered the closest thing to a father that he still had. He had spoken coldly and cruelly to both Lori and Robin, shocked at the words that had spilled unbidden from his own mouth as he tried to keep them as far away from him as he could.
It had taken more than just a few harsh words for the women in his life to give up on him, for days afterwards they had returned to his apartment, intent on speaking with him yet leaving disappointed when there was no answer. Within a few short weeks the visits had stopped altogether as they moved on with their lives, without him in it.
His caller had spoken the words that he'd never wanted to hear, that his mother had died in her sleep that evening. The nursing home had told him that her passing was peaceful and swift but that was of little consolation to him as he sat numbly in the ratty old armchair in the living room of his tiny apartment.
The kind woman on the end of the line had agreed to his request for the home to make the funeral arrangements, knowing that his mother had a will and a certain amount of cash in savings bonds that he had put by for her since he'd joined the NYPD. It felt cowardly and awful yet again, but he couldn't face the prospect of having to make the arrangements himself as that would mean coming into contact with the people he had gone to such lengths to cut out of his life in the first place.
Two weeks later, the day he had been dreading had finally arrived. It was a bizarre notion, but he was glad that Frankie and Benny had kept him busy running their errands, it had helped to take his mind off of the day of his mother's impending funeral. Her death had come as a shock to him and yet he had no one to reach out to for support, if the Malucci's noticed a change in his demeanour they had not said anything, instead giving him yet more menial tasks to do.
It wasn't worth dressing up for the occasion, it wasn't as if he was likely to be seen by anyone and that was the point. He would attend the service but keep himself to the shadows, away from the accusing glares of the people he used to know. His mother deserved a peaceful and dignified service, something that would fail to materialise if Lori or Andy knew he was there. They would corner him, castigate him for the scum he'd become and demand answers from him, answers that he knew he couldn't give.
Tightening his black leather jacket around him, he hugged his arms to his chest and moved to and fro slightly as he tried to keep warm. It wasn't as if it was a particularly cold day, yet standing in the shade of the huge oak tree at the cemetery made him feel strangely cold inside. It had nothing to do with the temperature, it was his heart that was growing cold as bitterness and anger took hold, their icy hands gripping on to him and freezing him from the inside out.
There was a fair gathering for her burial in the beautiful cemetery and it eased his conscience just a little to know that she would be buried next to her beloved husband and that they would be reunited once more, just as they had been in life. His thoughts darkened as he realised that his own fate would probably be in some nameless grave somewhere, with a ceremony befitting of someone who had betrayed all he knew.
Lori and Robin had attended, as had Andy, who stood stiffly to one side with his hands shoved into his pockets, the small tufts of hair that still remained blew haphazardly in the gentle breeze that swept through the churchyard. He ducked further into the shadows, fearing that one of them might see him and point him out to the others. It was imperative that he stay hidden, out of sight where no one could spot him.
Running a hand over his unshaven cheeks, he waited until every last attendee had left the graveside. He took in a lungful of air and exhaled slowly as he made his way slowly to her final resting place, checking frequently to see if he had been spotted by anyone.
All that was left of his family lay before him; his father's moss-covered headstone had begun to look worn and uncared for without him or his mother being able to tend to it on a regular basis. His father deserved better than a son who had run away from everything, who had run away from the life he once knew.
Tears sprang to his eyes as he read the notes of condolence on the flowers by the graveside, he should have been standing here mourning with them, not hiding away in the shadows like a villain. But at the end of the day, that was what he'd become, he was a villain in the eyes of the people who thought they once knew him.
He knelt by her grave, not caring that the freshly-turned mud stained his black jeans, as he whispered quietly to her.
"I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry I'm not the son that you deserved…Dad will take care of you now," he choked on the words as he lay the flowers he had bought roughly down before stumbling to his feet and making his way back into the shadows.
Miami. Present day:
"That must have been hard to take, not being able to be at your own mother's funeral," Jeff's words were gentle and non-judgemental as he looked at his client.
"I told myself it was for the best….that she deserved a dignified service, she wouldn't have got that if I was there. I told myself that, time and again, when the truth was that I was a coward."
"What on earth makes you say that?" Jeff replied, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice.
"I hid in the shadows….I pushed them away so that they would hate me and then I turned my back on them so that I wouldn't have to see the way that they'd look at me when they found out what I'd done….what I'd become."
"Horatio, do you have any idea how brave a thing it was to do what you did?"
Horatio looked up at him but said nothing as he watched Jeff flick through the pages of the file in front of him.
"You gave up everything to protect the people that you cared about, you risked your life to keep them safe and did it all on your own. I don't think you realise how much courage it takes to walk away from everything you've ever known and start again. You did all of that and yet never told a soul for nearly twenty years about what you went through. I don't think that is anyone's definition of a coward."
His client looked at him tiredly and he knew then that the man had had enough for one day. They had certainly made progress as the stubborn Lieutenant had finally begun to open up and talk about his past. Raking up old memories that people rather were left forgotten was often an exhausting experience for both therapist and client and Jeff was aware that both of them would need a little while to get their heads around what had been discussed during the session.
After making one final note, he closed the file and bent his head down, trying to gain the other man's attention.
"I think we'll leave it there for today. Come back and see me in two days' time, can you make 4pm again?"
Horatio nodded his head slightly, the therapist let out a sigh of relief as he realised that he would not have to battle the man again over whether he would return for another session.
"Do me a favour, Horatio," Jeff began as his client made his way slowly to the door, "Try not to be so hard on yourself, get a decent meal and some sleep, ok?"
"Doctor's orders?" the other man replied sardonically.
He smiled in return, hoping that he had finally made some progress with the man who was so determined to hold himself accountable for every small thing that had ever gone wrong in his life. "4pm don't be late."
"Never, my friend…..never."
Jeff walked into the waiting room as he watched his client leave; hopefully in a slightly better frame of mind than when he had entered over an hour earlier, he caught his receptionist and former client, Sally looking at him.
"Mr Caine seems like a good man, Dr Pearce," she said as she shuffled the forms on her desk. "Do you think he'll be ok?"
He returned her smile with one of his own as he ran a hand through his short-cropped greying hair. "I sure hope so, Sally."
Calleigh had busied herself with the ever-growing pile of paperwork that was building up on the desk in Horatio's office. He had done as much of it as he could in between processing evidence in the various labs in the building. She had been privy to some of the gossip from the technicians as they questioned why the head of the Crime Lab was doing something as menial as processing and analysing evidence. It would not be long before rumours spread, she picked up the cell phone on her desk only to be halted by the hated figure of Sargent Craig standing in the doorway.
"CSI Duquesne, a moment of your time if you will."
"Sure, come on in," she muttered as the IAB officer walked in without waiting for an invitation.
"I'm looking for Lieutenant Caine, where might I find him?"
Panic surged through her; Horatio had left an hour earlier to attend an appointment with the psychologist. There was no way she could tell the aggressive Sargent that, should she ever find out, Horatio would spend the rest of his career being wrapped up in bureaucratic red tape, jumping through one hoop after another as Internal Affairs fished for any reason to force him into early retirement.
"He's not here right now; he won't be back until the morning."
"Well isn't that convenient?" Sargent Craig responded sarcastically. "Is he out in the field at the moment or are you trialling a new scheme of half days for your most experienced CSIs?"
"He had some personal business to attend to," she replied vaguely, trying to give as little away as possible.
"On the Department's time?"
"No," Calleigh replied slowly as if talking to a child. "If you look in the records you'll find that I authorised Lieutenant Caine to leave early two days ago. Now, was there anything else you wanted?"
The IAB officer looked as if she were about to object and argue her point with the ballistics expert before changing her mind and turning towards the door. "Please advise Lieutenant Caine that I will be expecting to meet with him here tomorrow," Sargent Craig commanded stiffly as she looked over her shoulder.
After waiting until her unwelcome visitor had stalked back down the corridor, she walked over to the door and shut it quietly as she pulled out her phone, dialling a number and waiting for the other person to pick up.
"Alexx, it's Calleigh. We need to talk, are you free for an hour or so?"
It had been another tough day for Eric and Ryan, things had not started particularly well when they had been hauled into Horatio's office and raked across the coals by Calleigh as she gave them both a dressing down. Both men had tried to apportion the blame upon the other, their temporary leader refused to believe either of them and instead had commanded them to put their differences aside and consider what was best for the team and their leader, Horatio.
Even a night in the cells had done little to loosen the mouth of Jesus Fernandez who still protested his innocence and refused to name his accomplice. Time was running out for the team of crime scene experts and it was at times like this that both Eric and Ryan would turn to Horatio for support and inspiration. Horatio was the most fearless interrogator they had ever witnessed; he could question a suspect for hours, never once flagging in his pursuit for justice for the victims or their families. He would always grind them down in the end, ego and arrogance tended to get the better of most suspects, Horatio was an expert at letting them think they had the upper hand only to reveal an incriminating piece of evidence or forcing a suspect through sheer will into a confession.
The DA had been clear earlier when he told the men that they either needed to bring charges against Fernandez or let him go. Eric had fully intended on consulting with Horatio before making his decision but was forced to make do with Calleigh instead after being told that his brother in law was not in the building and not contactable. It ate at him why Calleigh was being so evasive about Horatio's whereabouts but fearing another dressing down like the one he received earlier, he decided not to push her about it.
She had told him to release Fernandez, citing that'd be what Horatio would have done in the circumstances, advising him to keep officers on their suspect at a discreet distance in the hopes that he would either incriminate himself or lead them to the whereabouts of his accomplice.
For Horatio's sake, he had tried to make more of an effort to work alongside Ryan during the shift. Apart from Calleigh and Horatio, they were the two most senior CSIs on the team, people in the lab were starting to talk, it was best all round if they put on a united front. Ryan had been dismissive of his overtures at first; the shorter man seemed preoccupied and distant throughout the day as Eric became increasingly frustrated with his colleague's lack of concentration.
He had tried talking to Ryan in the locker room at the end of the shift as he attempted to get the other man to open up with little success, receiving the brush-off several times.
"Look, Delko. Calleigh said we had to work together, not be each other's best friend," Ryan barked as he slammed his locker door closed and shrugged on his jacket.
"Pardon me for showing concern, Wolfe."
Ryan shook his head dismissively as he patted his trouser pocket to assure himself that his wallet was still in there. He didn't have time to play games with Eric; he needed to get to the seedy motel for the high stakes poker game that was being held there.