Horatio has just given me the ride of my life when his phone begins to ring. "Ignore it, H." I plead as he shifts to answer it.

"It might be important." he says. "Damn. All hands on deck." he rolls off me to walk to the bathroom.

Just as he starts to close the door, my phone rings. "That had better be my mom." I snarl as I roll over to grab it off the bedside table. "Fuck! I'm on vacation." I can't believe dispatch put a call out to me. They know I'm on vacation.

"Not any more, you're not." my 'boss' replies. "Now get that pretty little ass of yours out of bed and start getting ready." he orders as he closes the bathroom door.

I lie in bed thinking about whether or not I should ignore the call. I'm on vacation. I don't have to respond. But if I know Horatio, and I think after all this time I do, he won't let me ignore it. Not an all hands, anyway.

So I toss back the covers and walk to the bathroom, determined to make him regret ordering me to respond to this call.

I open the door and just stand for a minute admiring the view of my lover in the shower with the water pouring down on him, making his skin glisten. We still haven't ever taken one together. But today I think I'll just have to break my own rule.

"Close the door, will ya? You're letting all the hot air out." Horatio calls from his place under the showerhead.

I do as he asks and then step into the shower with him, reaching out to lightly stroke the small of his back.

"Speed?" he questions as he turns to face me.

"Thought I'd find out just exactly what it is you like so much about me and showers." I reply.

"Mm." he hums as he leans in and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips. "It's actually the fact that I caught you jerking off in the showers at work. Remember?" he murmurs against my lips.

"I remember. It was the night we both realized we had feelings for each other."

"Yes. It was." his smile splits his face. "I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn't entered the locker room at that moment."

"I try not to think about that." I say as I run my hands down his back to cup his ass. "I'm so very glad you heard me singing." I run my tongue across his lips causing him to open his mouth and suck it inside, pulling a deep guttural groan of need from me.

"We don't really have time for this, Speed." he pants against my neck when we separate to draw air into our lungs.

"Then this had better be quick." I drop to my knees and lick the tip of his cock. "I just love the way you taste." I state before I swallow him down.

His fingers twist almost painfully in my hair as I start to bob my head up and down his length while flicking my tongue against the flared head. I want to take my time, really enjoy this for once, but he's right; we have a crime scene waiting for us. So I take him all the way down until my nose is pressed against his belly and start to massage his cock with my throat muscles. I run my tongue up the vein on the underside and pull back slowly until I can dip the tip of my tongue into the slit.

"Speed..." he moans my name as his fingers tighten even more in my hair.

"Yes?" I pull back far enough to ask.

"Please. Don't tease. Not now." he's panting hard.

I want to take pity on him and end this now, but I've only blown him once before and that time was really quick. I want to really taste him. Enjoy having him in my mouth.

I lean back in and run the flat of my tongue along the side of his dick making him squirm and tug on my hair.

"Speed!" he begs. But I can't find it in me to take this any faster.

As he continues to try and make me suck all of him, I look up at him through my wet lashes. Seeing just a hint of blue from under his lashes is almost enough to make me come right then and there. But I squeeze the base of my cock and go back to teasing my lover.

The taste of his pre-cum is so very addictive. I find I can't get enough as I nibble on the crown of his dick. When I finally swallow him down again, his hips buck hard and I have to pull back quickly to avoid gagging.

"Sorry." he mumbles as he sags even more heavily against the tiled wall of the shower.

"S'okay." I reassure him as I once more take him in deep.

I reach up with one hand and fondle his balls, rolling them in their sacks. He moans again and flattens his hands on my head, pushing himself even farther down my throat and I let him, knowing that he's close. Just as I feel my orgasm rushing at me like a runaway truck, I slip two fingers of my free hand in his hole and start to swallow. He explodes with a shout and gives a painful tug to my hair.

Once I've licked him clean and he's gone soft again, I kiss my way up his body. As soon as I'm standing completely upright, I claim his mouth in a tongue-tangling kiss that leaves us both weak in the knees.

"Damn, Speed." he says as he breaks the kiss in order to drag in some air.

"Enjoyed that, did you?" I ask with a chuckle.

"You know I did." he responds with a swat to my ass. "Now you get to take a cold shower." he smirks as he steps out and leaves me standing under the now very cold spray.

"Thanks." I reply sarcastically, watching as he finishes his daily routine of shaving and dressing.

Once I'm done showering, I leave the bathroom to find him completely dressed and clipping his gun to his belt.

"Get to the scene as soon as you can." he says meaning 'I want you there right after me.'

"Yes, sir." I answer, barley refraining from saluting him.

He glares at me over his shoulder. I can tell from the glint in his eye he knows I thought about saluting.

"Now, Tim." he orders as he walks from the room and out the front door.

I sigh as I turn to get dressed. How to make him smile again? I wonder. I know. I can't help the smirk as I pick up one of my favorites of his shirts out of his hamper.

Eric and I arrive on scene at the same time.

"Thought you were on vacation." he chuckles at me as I kill the engine of the Ducati.

"Yeah." I sigh. "So did I." It's not fair. Horatio and I, we were finally connecting again, at least in bed, and he told me he took the day off to spend it with me. I think I can count on one hand the number of times since I started as a CSI that an 'all hands' has been called. Something is wrong, but I can't figure out what. It's not Horatio, not us. But something is out of place.

Reflex has me scanning the crowds behind the yellow tape, checking out the rubberneckers, looking for anyone who doesn't belong here. Not that I could tell, I guess, since police cars, ambulances, flashing lights and cops always draw a crowd, most of whom never have anything to do with the scene.

"Isn't this one of H's shirts?" Eric plucks at the sleeve of the royal blue shirt I'm wearing as we walk across the street to where Horatio is waiting under the bridge.

"Oh, does H have one like it?" I shrug, my attention pulled back to him. "I had no idea." I play dumb, because I'm not sure if Horatio wants to let anyone know about us or not. Although I'd like nothing more than to tell Eric. He is one of my closest friends, after all.

"Yeah. He wore it just the other day..." he starts to say but stops when he notices the looks of annoyance we're getting from the other officers on the scene. It's almost like they think we shouldn't have a personal life.

"Gentlemen. Thank you for cutting your vacation short," Horatio says as Eric and I join him under the bridge. The wreckage of the boat is clearer from this perspective. It's obvious that whoever was driving headed straight for the bridge pylon

"No problem." I respond as I casually look around, pretending to survey the scene, but I'm really hoping to figure out why the hair on the back of my neck is prickling. "So this boat slams into a bridge. Is that a crime scene?" I put my hands in my pockets as I glance over my shoulder at Horatio. The prying eyes seem to be gone, for now.

"Witnesses say that the boat was aiming at the bridge." Horatio responds, confirming my suspicions.

"All right, we'll go grab our stuff," Eric replies.

As we all turn to go about the business of processing the scene, I smile at Horatio, his lovemaking of just an hour ago still as fresh in my memory as his scent is on the shirt I'm wearing.

"Speed, how's it going?" I can hear the worry in Horatio's voice even over the phone. He left me and Eric here to finish processing the scene while he and Alex went back to the morgue to deal with the DB. Horatio and I still have a long way to go until we are anywhere near what I would call good, so I'm not sure if his worry is for me, or for the case.

Although the sex is phenomenal; the little aches from this morning's mini-marathon are still present in my muscles. I can almost smell him on my skin, even though we both showered.

"Fine." I walk a little way away from were Eric is taking pictures of the blood stain left by the victim, hoping he can't hear my side of this conversation. "So what did Alexx turn up in the post? How long has he been dead?" I ask, sticking to the case until I'm sure what his mood was.

"Alexx says he's only been dead a few hours. No more than two. Hey, are you wearing my shirt?" So he did notice. I'd wondered.

"Yeah. It looks better on me than it does on you," I chuckle. "So..." Eric starts to walk towards me so I quickly change the subject. "Frogmen didn't turn anyone up. I did get some soil on the... uh... point where the shooter went into the water. I don't know how instructive it's going to be."

"I think we have a kidnapping situation here; a six year old boy," Horatio states.

"Who's our dead guy?" I ask.

"The boy's father. And I think the situation went south, so that mud might be our only connection to the suspect," Horatio informs me.

"I'm on it," I say with a sigh as we hang up.

"Was that H?" Eric asks as he comes up behind me.

"Yeah. Says our dead guy's son was kidnapped." I pick up my camera and start taking pictures of the footprint Horatio found earlier.

"So, the ransom handoff must've gone wrong." he states.

"Yeah, that's what H figures." I respond not turning around.

I hear Eric walk away and then he calls out, "Hey, check this out. Ransom could've fit in this bag."

When I turn to face him, he unzips it and pulls out a fish.

"It's a fish." Never let it be said that I miss the obvious.

"Might've just given ourselves a secondary crime scene right here."

"How do you figure?"

"I'll explain once I get back to the lab. In the meantime, you... uh... missed a spot over there." He points to the side of the boat and chuckles. I just flip him off and walk away, feeling that 'wrongness' again. I can't put my finger on what it is, but a shiver slides down my spine as I crouch down and take a closer look at the dirt the killer left behind.

"All right, which one of you stole my Crime Light?" Calleigh demands as she comes rushing in to the lab where Eric and I are working.

"Well, 'stole' is-is very negative. I-I had borrowed it, and I had replaced it, I... uh...I put it back," I stammer. Calleigh angry is a very frightening sight.

"It would be nice if you charged it first. I was at the scene and it flat lined," she sighs.

"Sounds like she's mad at you." Eric also has a way with the obvious.

"Calleigh, I sincerely apologize." I place my hand over my heart and give her my best 'kicked puppy' look.

"Apology accepted. Give me yours." She holds out her hand impatiently.

"Go ahead, it's in my kit." I point over my shoulder towards the counter. "Hope she doesn't need her sodium rhodizinate," I mutter as she walks out of the room.

Eric chuckles and continues flipping through a field guide, trying to ID our fish. "Confirmation. Triploid Grass Carp. It's... uh... specifically engineered to control aquatic vegetation in the canals. The county dumps them; they eat five times their weight in vegetation."

"Well, Nemo there is 8 inches long, so he was just released."

"All right, so... uh... we find out what canal, we'll be able to find out where our suspect was prior to the ransom handoff."

"600 square miles of waterway in Miami..." I remind him with a sigh.

"That's okay, we can narrow it down. The county needs a permit to dump carp, so... let's enter the carp size to find the date and location of the carp," he says as I do a search on the computer. It takes a minute or so to spit out a likely answer.

"You got something?" Eric wants to know as the computer beeps.

"Yeah. Canal number 3329 on Newberry Road between 103rd and Fountain." I state as I pick up my cell to call Horatio with the address. Over the top of the computer screen, through the glass partition that separates our lab from the hall, I watch a few coworkers hustling back and forth between their stations, swerving to avoid someone standing there... just... standing and watching. What the hell is he doing here?

After Eric leaves to help Horatio at the canal, I track down Alexx. Ever since Horatio and I got back from Syracuse, I've had this... feeling. Like in spite of everything we've been through in the last few months, some new disaster is just waiting to drop on us. And the creeps I've been getting all day haven't done anything to ease my mind, either.

I have some things I want to make sure Horatio hears. Some things I... can't quite bring myself to say out loud, as if a kind of primitive superstition will make my nagging fears real if I voice them. But at least I can buy myself some cheap insurance by putting the words on paper and giving them to the only other person in Miami I trust to do as I ask, and hold that letter for me with no questions, just in case... Just in case I can't tell Horatio myself...

"Alexx?" I call when I finally locate her in the autopsy room.

"Yes, baby?" she responds as she strips off her gloves before turning to face me.

"I...uh..." I take the envelope out of my pocket and play with the flap. "I need you to keep something for me." I shift nervously from foot to foot.

She closes the distance between us, reaching for the envelope, but I draw it out of her grasp before she can take it from me. She scowls at me, crossing her arms under her breasts. "Timothy Speedle, just what kind of game are you playing?" she demands.

"Alexx, I just need... I need your word you won't open this, okay? I only want you to hold it for me. Just in case."

Her scowl goes from annoyed to worried, and her hands drop away, one of them resting on my arm lightly. "What do you mean, 'just in case,' baby?"

"Hold it for me, Alexx. No questions, okay? It's better for you if you don't know."

"Know what?" she asks, and I can hear her concern in the sharpness of her words. "Tim, is this about Horatio? What has he done now?"

For a minute, I almost want to laugh. The irony of that assumption now, when Horatio and I are finally on the same page, more or less, or at least on the same chapter, would be funny if I didn't have the awful feeling that the progress we've finally started making is going to be screwed up. "No, Alexx, no, it isn't H. We're... we're good. I swear. I just want you to make sure he gets this if something happens."

Now the concern in her face has become fear, and her fingers on my arm tighten, hard. I think I'm going to have a bruise. "What are you talking about? What is going to happen to you? Timothy, you'd better start talking to me right now, or I'll go to Horatio myself!"

"Nothing's going to happen, alright?" I try and reassure her, realizing belatedly that her maternal instincts are going to blow this all out of proportion. I don't even know for sure there's anything to worry about, yet. "I'm on my way to meet up with H as soon as I leave here, okay? I promise."

She eyes me; clearly not sure she believes what I'm saying. "You'd better not be lying to me," she warns. "Because I will hurt you if you are."

I can't help the little laugh. "I promise, Mom, I wouldn't lie to you. It's just this case, you know? It makes you think about things. About what you'd do if you lost someone you love. I just want to make sure that nothing goes unsaid between H and me. And yeah, I know, I need to talk to him directly, but..." I duck my head, looking at her from under my lashes. I'm playing my ace in the hole with her, just like I did with Calleigh, earlier, using the whipped puppy look to its best effect. But hell, I need to get her off track, here, and let me handle this my way. "We have to get there in our own time."

She narrows her eyes at me, not answering right away. Finally, she snatches the envelope from my hand, and this time I let her. "Alright, baby boy, I'll hold this for you. But you'd better be straight with me. And you'd better do the same with Horatio. I care too much about both of you to see you tear each other apart again. Are you hearing me, Tim?"

Relieved, I bend and kiss her cheek, hugging her fast and hard. "Thank you, Alexx," I smile at her with my best little boy look.

She swats me lightly on the same arm she just bruised, shaking her head with a rueful smile. "You are a handful, Timothy Speedle, you know that? Now go. I have work to do, and so do you." She shoos me out of the autopsy room with a flick of her latex glove at my ass.

"I'm going! I'm going!"

"So these diamonds were hanging off the boat?" I ask Eric as I examine the jewels he's brought back to the lab.

He had gone with Horatio to find the car, then to stop DOI from moving our crime scene and found some jewels that had been knocked loose from the side of the boat when it was moved.

"Yeah. Why? What's up?"

"Nothing. They're fake." I look up from examining the diamond bracelet.

"You sure?" he sounds as if he doesn't believe me.

"You may be the fish expert, but I know gems. This is the latest thing, laboratory grown diamonds." I answer, a little smugly. "I did part of my undergrad concentration in inorganic chem. One of my favorite experiments was creating diamonds in the lab."

"Like zirconium?"

"No, they're real diamonds, just man made. Fraction of the price of diamonds from a mine. Take a piece of pure graphite and put it in a ceramic box with some chemicals. Then slide the whole thing in a pressure cooker. It simulates the temperature and pressure fifteen miles below the Earth's surface. Graphite vaporizes. After three days, they pull out the ceramic box, break it open, then you got yourself a diamond crystal. Just like nature only a million times faster," I explain just as Horatio walks in.

"Gentlemen, are these the emeralds?" he asks as he approaches the workbench where I have the jewels spread out, waiting to be examined.

"Yeah, we were just about to check 'em," I reply while trying not to stare. I haven't seen him much today and it's starting to get to me.

"Okay," Horatio says as he picks one emerald up and places it on the microscope. "Wait a second; this emerald has a scrape on it. You can't scrape a real emerald."

"What's the tool mark?" Eric asks.

"It's not a tool mark, it's a tooth mark. Look at the striae pattern." He backs away from the microscope and Eric takes over.

"It's a chipped tooth," Eric confirms.

"Mr. Williams got shot for passing fake jewelry," Horatio states as he walks out of the room.

"That's not possible. Our jewelry's real. We don't own replicas," Mrs. Williams says, disbelieving, as Horatio and I question her about the fake jewels. We're all standing in her living room. Well, Horatio and Mrs. Williams are in the living room. I'm leaning against the wall near the arch that leads into what was probably Mr. Williams' office.

"Did your husband know that?" Horatio asks.

"Meaning what?" she snaps.

"Meaning that it's possible that you swapped out the fake ones for the real ones and didn't tell him." Horatio steps in close to her. I've seen him do this hundreds of times. He moves into a suspect's personal space and they tend to get nervous and slip up.

"You sent him in with a fake ransom. Sounds like a two-fer. Gets rid of the old man. Now you can collect on insurance money for jewelry you never lost in the first place," I state shifting my weight to my other foot. I really hate stupid people.

"You think that I'd…that I would put my son's life at risk like that?" Mrs. Williams is starting to get desperate. She's wringing her hands and looking nervously around the room, refusing to meet my or Horatio's eyes.

"Don't you mean your stepson? You neglected to mention that, didn't you?" Horatio is getting frustrated. He hates stupid people, too.

"We're a blended family. We don't use those terms." she sniffs, her chin going up a notch in indignation.

"You see, the problem Mrs. Williams, is that you've withheld information and it makes you look complicit in his abduction." I watch as Horatio tries to control his temper. There's just something about crimes against women and children that makes him lose it.

"We got the jewelry appraised last year." Mrs. Williams walks past me into the office and grabs a stack of papers off the desk. When she comes back out, she hands the papers to Horatio.

"A lot can happen in a year. Now...who else had access to those jewels?" he demands with barely controlled anger.

"Just me and my husband. We keep them in the vault."

"Did you ever have them cleaned?" he growls. I feel like we're just going around in circles, and obviously, so does Horatio.

"After events, sure. At McCauley Jewelers." Mrs. Williams states slowly as if she were speaking to a child.

"McCauley Jewelers, Speed. Thank you." Horatio walks off without looking back.

I follow him out and get the eyebrow when I step up to the driver's door.

"What?" I ask. "I do know how to drive a car, H. You're still a little bit hot under the collar, so let me drive. Okay?"

"Okay." he nods after a moment, then walks around the Hummer and gets in.

I release the breath I'm holding as I start the engine and pull out onto the street.

Taking a deeper breath, I clear my throat and glance over at Horatio in the passenger seat where he's focused on the city outside the car. The look on his face makes me wonder if he's willing the heavy mid-day traffic to get out of our way, he's so intent on it. Or maybe it's something else he's looking for, I speculate as I catch his eye for an instant. In that split second, the storm clouds clear from his face, and his smile is like the sun breaking through, at least until he turns away again, leaving me feeling chilled by the absence of his warmth...

"H?" I say, knowing I'm interrupting his train of thought. The trouble is, I need to know if he's picked up on it too... "I think this case is weirding me out," I admit reluctantly. I know what I have to say will sound paranoid, but I can't help that.

"How so?" he asks, turning a little in his seat to look at me, a furrow between his eyebrows.

"I keep feeling-" I don't get any further than that when another motorist makes an illegal left in front of us from a cross street, and I have to swerve hard to miss the moron. Horatio is slammed up against the passenger's side door hard enough to drive a grunt of discomfort out of him, and if I wasn't feeling so freaked out, his reaction would almost be funny.

Horatio Caine loses it. My unflappable boss who usually has the patience of a saint, and almost never publicly loses his temper, swears violently and actually flips the other driver off. She's oblivious, yakking into her cell phone as her Lexus SUV zooms on ahead of us, swerving through slower traffic like a skier on a slalom course.

Never one to take things lying down, or at least not these kinds of things, Horatio calls it in, reciting her plate numbers to dispatch in a clipped staccato that tells me he's royally pissed off.

I guess the dispatcher must have heard it as well, because we haven't even gone three more blocks before we spot her pulled over by a patrol car, a couple of uniforms looking tough as one gets her info and the other keeps an eye on her, one hand resting threateningly on his holstered weapon.

I grin at the sight as we cruise on past more sedately. "Who says there's never a cop around when you need one?" I quip, my mood inexplicably lightened a little by Horatio's temper tantrum. The fact that he actually let me see it, and that it wasn't me who set him off for a change, leaves me feeling strangely intimate. Like he's relaxing a little and letting it be okay to reveal some of what goes on under that perpetually calm exterior of his. The surge of affection I feel catches me by surprise, and I just bask in it for a moment.

The rest of our drive across town is spent arguing about cars: various makes, models, their pluses and minuses, the people who typically drive them - and my preference for my bike. When we finally pull up in front of the storefront, it's almost as if the subject has become the theme of the day. I fit the Hummer into a spot at the curb right behind a red Rolls Royce convertible that probably costs more than 10 years of my salary.

"Nice Rolls. Bet it belongs to the owner. Cars are such a bad investment," I snark as we get out of the Hummer at McCauley Jewelers. "I'm just happy I have my bike," I say, knowing it jerks Horatio's chain. He's just made it clear he worries about me riding the streets without the protection a car offers. But I'd rather have the speed, and the maneuverability, than play it safe. I mean, what's the point in living in Miami if you can't feel the sun on your skin or the wind in your hair once in a while?

"Someday, you might need something with doors," he replies as we approach the entrance.

"Well, I got plenty of time for that." I chuckle, then swallow hard as he gives me the hands-down sexiest look I've ever had aimed my way, bar none.

"Someday I might need you to have something with doors, Speedle. It's damned hard to think about fucking you on that Ducati, unless it's parked in the garage," he whispers, mouth just a fraction of an inch from my ear as he opens the door and holds it for me so I can precede him into the jewelry store.

He's all business as soon as the door shuts behind us, "We're here to see Mr. McCauley, please," Horatio tells the man who approaches us when we enter. He has one hand on his hip, the other on the butt of his gun, pushing his jacket back to show his badge.

"Oh, Mr. McCauley is the previous owner. I'm the new owner. Rudolph Koehler; call me Rudy." He glances over his shoulder at me then turns to face Horatio. "But maybe I can help you with something, officer. I'd be more than happy to help the police."

I start to look around, willing my body to calm down. Now is not the time or place to be thinking about Horatio bending me over one of the counters and fucking me senseless.

"Yes, I've recently been speaking with your customer, Mrs. Tawny Williams," Horatio says just as I come to a counter top where two female employees are standing, pleading with their eyes for me to help them.

Their silent warning slams the mental doors on the foreplay Horatio and I were just indulging in a few seconds ago as I glance behind the counter, through the glass wall into the workroom, and see a man crouched below a table. My heart skitters against my ribs painfully as fight-or-flight instincts kick in as I try to figure out what he's doing and whether or not it's a threat. I hear a noise coming from the back room. A noise that shouldn't be there. My hands begin to sweat and my heart picks up its pace even more. Something is definitely not right.

"Yes, I just heard the news about her husband," Rudy tells Horatio as I reach for my gun. "It's tragic. She's such a nice lady."

"Excuse me. Speed?" Horatio picks up on my alarm as I make eye contact with him. If I can sense something isn't right, then you can bet your life it's gotta be bad. "Stay put," he instructs Rudy as he starts to walk to where I'm standing with my gun out and ready.

"She and her husband were very good customers." Rudy continues to talk as if Horatio and I are still listening.

Horatio is now standing near me. As I stare through the glass wall between the showroom and the work area, a door in the back of the workroom slowly opens and a man steps through, gun in hand.

I'm not even sure he's all the way into the workshop before Horatio pulls out his gun. I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins as I prepare to defend myself and my lover.

"Speed!" Horatio calls out a warning as the man opens fire. The two ladies behind the counter scream, breaking my concentration momentarily. I hear Horatio return fire and I take aim, hoping to provide cover for him. But goddammit, my gun doesn't work.

I glance down at it in frustrated horror. Jammed? How the hell can it be jammed? Just as that question enters my head, pain explodes across my chest. Horatio and the guy in the back of the shop continue to snap off rounds at each other as I go flying backwards from the force of the round hitting me. My chest is on fire, air a luxury I no longer have.

Breathe. I can't breathe. God, Horatio. Help me... I lose track of what's going on around me, the searing agony in my chest swamping my senses. The sound of gunfire becomes the hammering of my heart, fear and shock chilling my extremities. H, Oh, God, H, please be alright, please!

The roaring of my pulse and the whine of bullets make it impossible for me to tell what the hell is going on around me, and every heartbeat makes it harder for me to focus on anything at all. But out of the chaos, I hear his voice, the terror in it enough to frighten me all over again. "Speed!"

His voice makes it through the haze that's fallen over my hearing, my eyes, and Horatio is suddenly beside me. I can feel him reaching for me, even though he barely twitches a muscle, and I hate the pain I see in his eyes.

Bad dream. It's all just a nightmare, and I'll wake up. I have to. Horatio needs me. I need him. I can't go through this again. The day, that horrible day that first broke down the walls between us, the day he found out I wasn't cleaning my gun, THAT was real. This, this can't be. It can't. I struggle to draw oxygen into my lungs, and get only the acrid, coppery foam of blood in my mouth.

I cleaned my gun just... I can't think.

Horatio grabs his cell phone; he must have dropped it in the chaos of the gun fight. His hands and voice shake just a little, but enough to let me know that this is real. That I'm lying here, bleeding out onto hard stone in an air-conditioned room, an eon from the heat and sweat of Horatio's bed. It seems like a lifetime since we were there, together, laughing...loving...

"This is CSI Caine. We have a priority here! I got a man down, shots fired!" he drops his phone to the floor, and I can even make out the clatter of plastic on the hard surface. Odd that I should be able to hear that… but then, the guns are silent. The only thing left is the pounding of Horatio's heart. It matches my own.

He cradles my head in his hand. "You're going to be okay, Speed. Look at me. You're going to be okay. You'll be fine," he tries to reassure me.

"I-I can't feel anything," I say as I choke on blood and try to touch his face just one more time... I love him for lying, for trying to ease both our fear, and Horatio wipes my mouth gently with a handkerchief, pleading with his eyes for me to hang on just a little longer.

I can see his mouth moving, but can't hear his words any longer. The roaring is back, my heartbeat faltering, thudding erratically against my ribs.

"I can't feel anything!" Maybe if I keep talking, then I won't die, but I'm not even sure I spoke aloud.

I'm not ready to die.

Horatio still needs me. I still need him.

He leans down and I can feel his breath as he whispers something in my ear. I can't hear what he says, though I know what it is he's whispering. What it seems I've waited a lifetime to hear...

I try to tell him I love him, but instead, I cough up more blood in place of the words I need to say. Fascinated horror focuses my attention for just a moment against the pain and darkness that's closing over me as some of that blood hits Horatio in the face, and he doesn't even blink.

There is so much I've yet to say... So much I've yet to experience... I fight for consciousness, but it slips out of my grasp, silence and blackness sweeping over me like a tide. It's so much stronger than I am and it will not be denied. The light fades into nothingness... and mercifully, the pain goes with it...