My heart's pounding in my ears as I walk as fast as I can, without actually running, through the corridors of the PD.
I can't believe he yelled at me for talking to Cookie, no, Sara. I know she's off limits. I told her so. Not that I'd date her even if I could. I still love Horatio Caine. More fool me.
I really wanted to punch his lights out for ordering - ordering! - me to take a vacation. He should just get over himself. I plan to.
As I reach the Ducati, it hits me. What I said to him, what I did. I threw my badge at him. Quit my job. Of course, I can afford to not work for a while, but eventually I'll need another one. And this one was one of the best I've ever had.
The shock starts to wear off and I know that the aftermath is going to be worse than the night he threw me out. The exhaustion is pulling me down. I sit on my bike and rub the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars. I feel like I can't do anything right; everything I do is wrong. Including loving Horatio. I always screw things up. I fight back tears as I realize it's going to take more than a few measly cuts on my arms to numb this pain. The pain of hurting the man I love.
I kick-start my bike and head out to an area of Miami I haven't been to in over ten years. This is the only way to stop the memories of heat filled blue eyes and skillful hands.
The house looks the same as it did the last time I was here. But then I expected it to. Nothing really changes on this side of town.
As I roll to a stop in the front yard, two evil looking men step out on to the porch. I don't recognize them. They must be new. I know better than to move until Marcus comes out to see who has arrived.
"Speed?" Marcus squints at me in the late afternoon sunlight. "That you?"
"Yeah." I reply.
"Whatcha doin' here?"
"I need something to help me forget." A code. He told me when I left that if I ever needed to come back, to just say those words and he'd know I wasn't there as a cop.
"Yeah? Whatcha tryin' ta forget?"
"Does it matter?"
"Nope. He's good, boys," he turns to the goons and nods in my direction.
They just grunt and precede us into the house.
"Speedy!" My name is called by a very beautiful blonde. Amanda. I haven't thought of her in years. She's the one that the young OD victim from a few months ago reminded me of. She's also one of the reasons I decided to get clean. Eleven years ago, she got pregnant and then miscarried after ODing.
"Amanda," I say as she hugs me. "Why are you still here?" I whisper in her ear. We'd planned to leave together; it was my child she miscarried. But Marcus wouldn't let her go. She promised me that she'd find a way to get out.
"Marcus," she answers as if that one word explains it all. And it does. Marcus is her brother. He's supported her for years. Started her habit as well. "I've got some really good shit for ya to try. Ya up for it?" she asks as she walks backwards pulling me by the hand towards the couches. She licks her lips and gazes at me through her eyelashes, just like I did Horatio that last night. Stop thinking about that son of a bitch right now, Speedle! I order myself as I allow Amanda to settle me between her legs, my back pressed to her ample chest.
"Yeah. Help me forget," I murmur as she ties off a vein and preps the needle to give me my first taste in over ten years of the drug that gave me my nickname.
The following seven days pass in a blur of sex and drugs. Just like old times.
I can't sleep, can't eat, and can't stop thinking about a certain redheaded MDPD lieutenant. I eventually pass out from sheer exhaustion and wake up some time later covered in naked female bodies.
I'm sure I don't want to know what happened these past seven days. As I lie there feeling the weight of the drugged bodies, I realize that it didn't help. I still love Horatio as much as I always did. I need to go home. Home to Horatio.
My phone rings as I start the slow process of pulling myself out from under the tangle of arms and legs.
It stops ringing just as my hand closes around it. Of course.
I recognize the number. It's my mom. I wait to see if she'll leave a message and notice that she's called me several times in the past week. Damn. Shouldn't have come here. Always forget that there are some people in this world who still care about me. As I start to gather my clothes, I notice my stench. I'm going to need a very long, very hot shower to get rid of it. Forgot that weeklong benders don't include showers.
My phone beeps to let me know there's a message waiting and I listen to what my mother has to say. 'Timothy, where the hell are you? It's been a week and someone from the lab said you'd quit! Call me NOW and let me know you're still alive! I mean it, Timothy Michael Speedle! I want to hear from you within the hour or your father and I are coming to Miami to drag you home!' And with that, she hangs up.
I need to get out of here. Even now, I can feel the pull of the drugs. The high did nothing but remind me of what I'll be throwing away if I allow myself to go back. Horatio. And the only thing in this world that means more to me than breathing. His respect.
"Speed?" a sleepy voice calls from the direction of the pile of strung out bodies.
"Amanda," I call softly. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Ya didn't," she says as she pushes several body parts out of her way and stands up to approach where I'm standing holding my clothes. "Goin' somewhere?"
"Yeah. Home," I reply as I start to get dressed.
"Home's overrated," she smirks. "Ya know ya don' really wanna leave. Ya wouldn't have come here if ya didn' wanna be one of us again."
"Amanda, stop. This is not who I am any more. The high didn't make me feel any better. It just made me feel worse. I can live without that junk and so can you, if you just try." I reach into my pants pocket and pull out some money. "I don't know how much is there, but take it and leave. Now, today. Just get dressed and go. Don't take anything else with you." I place the bills in her hand and close her fingers around them. I want to help her. She almost made me a father, after all. I do still care for her. I'm hoping she'll let me help.
"Tim. I can't leave." Amanda rubs her face with her free hand.
"Why not? What's he got on you?" I ask as I put on my shoes.
"My son. He's got my son," she whispers on a broken sob.
"What? When did you have a kid?" I demand, shocked.
"Two years ago." Tears are running down her face.
"I know someone who can help," I say as I open my wallet and pull out a card. "Call them. Tell them I referred you. They'll help. Just make sure you say my name before you ask for assistance. Okay?"
"They'll help me get my son back?" There's hope in her voice.
"Yes. If you can stay clean. Can you do that, for your son?" Maybe this time she'll get the help she needs.
"Yes. I can."
"Promise me." She ducks her head and then looks me in the eye with renewed determination.
"I promise." Her voice is strong. I believe she means what she says.
I kiss her cheek before leaving. I take one last look back as I mount my bike and drive away.
I pull up to Horatio's house and find his Hummer in the drive. That's odd, I think. He should be at work. I didn't want to confront him at the PD. So I chose his house. I have a key. I would have used it immediately if he'd been at work.
No one answers my knocks and he's not answering his phone. I refuse to leave a message. I need to see his face when I tell him that I can't allow him to push me away anymore.
As I let myself into his house, I remember that my mom threatened to come to Miami and drag me back to New York by my hair if I didn't call her back. I dial her number, hoping she hasn't left yet.
"Mom," I start to explain when she answers her phone. "I need to tell..."
"My God, Timothy! Where the hell have you been?" she interrupts. "We've all been frantic. Your friends at the lab said they'd looked everywhere for you."
Obviously not or they would have found me breaking the law and the number one rule in Horatio Caine's book. My whole body shakes at the thought of how Horatio will react to my going back to drugs. Everyone knows how he feels about addicts. His brother was one and it nearly destroyed their family.
"Come home. Please. Let me take care of you," she goes on, and I can tell the 'dragging me home by the hair' threat wasn't an empty one.
"Mom." I stop to clear my throat. I refuse to shed any more tears over him. "I really messed up this time." I whisper as I lean against the wall when my legs refuse to support me anymore.
"That's okay, honey. Just come home," she pleads as I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor, my head on my upraised knees.
"I fell. Hard," I don't have to tell her what I mean; she knows I'm talking about the drugs. She fought so long and hard to pull me out, I hate to have to tell her that it was all for nothing. That the drugs can pull me back so easily. "I'm sorry I let you down. I just wasn't thinking. It hurt when it ended."
"Oh, baby. You could never disappoint me," she soothes. "How long had the two of you been going out? And why didn't you mention her to me?"
Damn. How to explain about my relationship ending without telling her it was with a man.
"Just a few weeks. But I'm in love, Mom. This was it. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to jinx it."
"You still love her?" I can just see her planning the wedding and naming my children.
"Yeah. Have from the moment we met," I sigh. I just want to tell her, but I'm afraid of her reaction. I know she loves me, but I don't know how she'll react to finding out her oldest son is in love with another man. Hell, it scares me and I'm the one in love.
"Well, what you need to do then is come home. Let us take care of you. Get away from Miami and all those painful memories of her."
"No, Mom. You don't understand. It's not like that..."
"I don't care," she talks over me. "Just come home, Timothy Speedle. Now."
"Okay," I sigh as I realize that fighting her on this will only prolong the agony. I can always try to explain once I'm in New York. "I'll come back to Syracuse. But just for a while. I still don't want to work for Dad."
"That's fine. You don't have to. Just let us take care of you. You know we love you, right?"
"Yeah. I love you too." The tears start to fall as we hang up. The last time she asked to take care of me had been right after I confessed to being addicted to speed. She just took me in her arms, rocked me like I was a little boy, and begged me to allow her to take care of me while I detoxed. It had been a long painful journey back to the little boy she raised. But with her and my dad's help, I made it. And with their help, I can do it again. I just wish Horatio were here as well.
I feel like I could sleep for days. The excesses of the past week are starting to take their toll.
I decide to use his shower and bed. If he has a problem with that... I can't seem to find the energy to care.
I pick myself up off the floor and make my way to the bathroom, pulling off my clothes as I go.
The shower feels too good to rush through. I wash myself all over several times, before I feel anywhere near human again. My legs give out after a while and I sit on the floor of the stall letting the hot water wash over me.
A shiver catches me unawares, and I vaguely realize that the water is now ice cold. Hurting like the razor blades I used to use.
I stagger to my feet and turn the water off with shaking hands. My teeth start to chatter as I swipe at my wet skin with a towel. I'm too tired to dry off completely.
I barley make it to the bed before I lose the battle to keep my eyes open and I fall face first on top of the covers, to sleep like the dead.
My phone wakes me some time later.
It's my mom again. I really don't want to answer it. She's just going to be 'mom' again. But of course, I know if I don't...
"Mom, please stop worrying. I'm fine and I'm headed north soon." I try to head her off at the pass.
"I'm your mother, Timothy. It's my job to worry about you," she says on a huff. "Please don't ride that death machine you call a motorcycle. I'll wire you the money to fly."
"Mom, please. I don't want to fly. You know I can't stand to be that close to that many strangers. I'll be fine. You'll see. I'm going to take another shower, grab something to eat and then I'll be on my way. Okay?"
"Okay. Please be careful. We love you." I can tell she doesn't want to give in on the motorcycle issue. She didn't speak to me for a week after I bought it.
"Yeah. I love you, too. I'll be fine," I stress the word 'fine'. Hoping she'll let this drop, at least for now. But knowing that she won't. Ever. She worries too much.
After trying to eat and giving up when the toast turns to dust in my mouth, I sit on the Ducati and stare at Horatio's house. The first place that really felt like home to me. Even the house I grew up in never felt like home. I learned to love in Horatio's house. His arms, his bed. I know that even if I return to Miami, that I won't be returning to the crime lab or Horatio. I have to start rebuilding the wall around my heart. The one that he destroyed with a look all those years ago.
I take my time driving to Syracuse. I have no reason to hurry. Of course, the fact that I really want to be in Miami in Horatio's arms has absolutely nothing to do with it. Yeah, right and the sky is green.
I drive until I need gas. I grab some coffee and try to eat again. The sandwich just sits heavily in my stomach. I decide to not try eating again for a while. Forgot that food loses its appeal while coming down off a bender.
As the sun starts to set, I begin to look for a hotel. I finally find a cheap one that looks half way decent.
Once in my room, I have a repeat performance of my shower at Horatio's. I barely get dried off before falling asleep; face first, on top of the covers.
When I wake up, I realize I didn't bring a change of clothes. At least the ones I took from Horatio's are clean. Well, cleaner than the ones I stuffed into his trashcan.
The next three days are repeats of that first one. Only without my trying to eat. I live on coffee and soda. It is the only way to avoid getting sick before I reach Syracuse.
It's midmorning of the fourth day when I realize I've crossed the New York state border. I decide to drive on through. I'm still so very tired. I just want to let my mom pamper me for a while.
It's noon on the fifth day when I finally pull up in front of the restaurant where my mom and dad can usually be found these days and I'm finally feeling halfway human again.
"Timothy!" my mom calls out to me as I walk in the door and approach where she's standing behind the counter. She drops the rag she's wiping down the Formica with and runs around the end of the counter to throw herself at me.
"Mom," I respond, hugging her back, hard. God, it's good to be here. In her arms. I won't stay long, but at least I can enjoy it while I'm here. My mother kisses me on the cheek while across the room, someone drops a plate.
"Be careful!" My dad scolds whoever it is, as he emerges from the kitchen. "That's coming out of your pay," he says with a chuckle as he joins Mom and me and puts his arms around both of us. It must be my brother, Joshua, I think as I hug Dad, too. The whole family is here. Or most of it. I feel tears prick my eyes as I think about how Horatio was starting to become like family to me.
"About time you got here. What took you so long? I expected you last night," Mom scolds me sweetly. The sound of broken china being swept up rattles on in the background. "We hired a new bus boy." That makes me laugh a little. No one can accuse my mom of being able to hold on to one subject for long.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. There was an accident on the freeway. I got lost when they diverted us." I explain. "A new bus boy, huh? Really?" I ask as I wonder why it's important for me to know this.
"Yep. I think you'll like him. Want to meet him?" Mom asks as she walks back behind the counter.
"Mom, let the boy work, will ya?" I sit down on a stool as she pours me a cup of her famous coffee.
"It's almost time for his lunch. Oh, here he comes now," she smiles at someone over my head. I resist the urge to turn around and take a sip of my coffee.
"I'm so sorry about the plate. Will there be anything else before I go to lunch, Mrs. Speedle?"
I know that voice. I hear it every second of every day, awake, asleep, it doesn't matter. It haunts my every moment.
"No, Horatio, that's all. Don't worry about the plate. And I do believe I told you to call me Irene, didn't I?" I can barely hear her over the blood rushing in my ears, but the smile she bestows on him says she's already accepted him into the family.
Did he tell them about us?
Mom goes on oblivious to my distress. "Timmy, aren't you going to say hi?" I get The Look. The one that all mothers seem to know how to give.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and turn to face my ex-lover and ex-boss.
"Horatio." I really don't know what else to say.
"Speed." He seems at a loss as well.
Mom beams at both of us as though she has no clue that I'm looking at the man who holds my heart. "Well, why don't the two of you go grab something to eat and talk, hm?" she suggests and I blink.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she does know what he is to me. Who would have thought my mother would play matchmaker for me? With a man.
"Speed?" he asks, uncertainly.
"You know how to not fall off, right?" I ask as I mount the bike and rock it level.
"Yeah. Ya hold on." There's a gleam in his eyes that I haven't seen in several months. That's how long it's been since he kicked me out of his bed and his life. "Do I need to fear for my life?" he asks as he mounts the bike behind me.
"No. I do know how to drive the speed limit."
"Really? Then why don't you do it more often?" Has he been peeking at my record? I know I have some speeding tickets, but they're all several years old.
"Maybe I don't like to go slow," I respond, thinking about our first night together. We definitely didn't go slow that night.
"Yeah, I know."
Did you know you can actually hear someone smirk? I didn't, until Horatio did it where I couldn't see.
I take the short way to my parents' house. Driving the speed limit the whole way.
I wonder if he's ever ridden a motorcycle before. He seems to know what to do. He holds on with his thighs and I can't help but wish he'd hold on to me. I can feel his thigh muscles bunch with each turn we make. It's killing me to not slide back between them at every stop light. I wonder if he's as hard as I am.
The ride is silent for the most part. Neither one of us wants to try to talk over the wind and I know that I need to see his face for this confrontation.
Everything is under some semblance of control, until we stop at a stop sign in front of the elementary school I attended as a boy.
He places his hand on my shoulder to lean up to whisper in my ear, "Is this where you went to school?" His touch is like fire in my blood. The warmth of his chest pressed against my back; the weight of his hand on my shoulder. The brush of his lips against my ear; the heat of his breath on my cheek.
I barely control the shiver that courses down my spine at the reminder of what his touch makes me feel. I want nothing more than to pull over somewhere and let him make me scream. Make me his again.
"Watch out," he chuckles as I lose my balance and the Ducati starts to slip sideways. He has me so distracted. "It's a stop sign, Speed. You can go forward now," he purrs in my ear.
I just blink as I do as he suggests. The rest of the ride passes in silence.
"I can't believe my parents have you busing their tables!" I wait until we're almost to my parents' house. I don't think I'll want to say much once we're there, when all I want is to be held in his arms; to be reminded that I belong to him.
"I asked to help. You know I hate to feel useless. I was just sitting around their house..."
"What? You're staying at their house?" We arrive just as he drops that little bombshell. Thank goodness. I'm so startled I'm sure I would have crashed.
"When I showed up at their restaurant, they insisted. Well, actually, just your mom insisted. Your dad didn't seem to care."
"What did you tell them about us?" I demand.
"Not what you're thinking, I'm sure," he says as he gets off the bike.
"Really? Just what do you think I'm thinking?" I ask as I set the kickstand and walk to where he's standing on the front lawn.
"Look, all I told them was that I'm your lieutenant and I'm worried about you. You stalked off after a misunderstanding after a case..."
"Misunderstanding?" I interrupt. "You threatened my job if I went out with her."
"I was jealous. So sue me." He gives a half shrug.
"Jealous? Really? Just how is that possible? You threw my ass out of your house so fast my head's still spinning!" I really do not want to get into this in the front yard, so I walk up to the door, Horatio right behind me.
Have you ever noticed how much clearer everything seems when you're beyond pissed? The birds are singing louder than I have ever heard them. The sun is shining brighter and the smell of the honeysuckle my mom planted on the side of the house is so much stronger. Sweeter. It clashes with my anger at Horatio. I can't believe he's trying to shrug this off. That makes me even angrier.
"I made a mistake. I'm sorry," he whispers from right behind me causing tiny shivers to run through my body, making me fumble with the keys.
"Not good enough, H. I need a hell of a lot more than 'I'm sorry'," I snarl as we enter the house. "But ya know what? I don't need it right now. Right now I need you... in me." This has the desired effect of making him grab my shirtfront to pull me towards him. Our teeth knock together as we fight for dominance, our tongues dueling, snaking in and out of each other's mouths.
"Shit, Speed. I was so afraid. Afraid I'd fucked up big time," he says as we break apart to drag some much-needed air into our lungs.
"Yeah, ya did. Now no more talking," I reply as I pull him in for another long, heated kiss. "Upstairs, now."
As we make our way up the stairs to my old bedroom, which is where he's been sleeping, we unbutton, untuck, and unbuckle everything we can. "Can't leave a trail," I warn as he starts to remove my shirt before we're in my room.
"Right."
Once we're behind a closed door though, everything is thrown aside in the frantic need for skin-to-skin contact. It's better than I remember. His hands are everywhere and I swear there are more than two of them. He strokes and pinches and teases all the right spots.
"Don't want to go too fast," I say as he backs me towards the bed. "Don't want it to be over before it's begun."
"Oh, don't worry, baby, it won't be," he replies as he pushes me onto the bed and falls on top of me. I can't bite back the moan of pure pleasure as his weight presses me into the mattress. I chuckle just a little as I realize that this is only the second time I've ever done this in this room.
"What's so funny?" He frowns down at me.
"Nothing. Just that you're only the second person to fuck me in this room."
"Yeah? Who was the first?" he growls.
"Jealous, much? My first girlfriend. The night we lost our virginity to each other."
"Oh, well. Why didn't you say so?"
"I just did. Fuck me, Horatio. Fuck me through this mattress, now." I don't care that I'm begging.
"Are you giving me an order, Detective?"
"Absolutely, Lieutenant. Now FUCK ME!"
"Shhh, Speed. Baby, it's alright. We got all the time in the world," he purrs as he fumbles with the bedside drawer. I whimper as he pulls out a tube of KY and squirts some on his fingers. "No, on your back," he says as I start to roll over.
My favorite position is on my back, so I can look him in the eyes while he fucks me, but he usually wants me on my hands and knees.
"I want to look at you."
I clutch the sheet with both hands as his talented fingers prepare me to take him into my body. He doesn't take long, thank God, because neither one of us can last much longer.
"Now, H. Please." I'm practically crying. I feel like it's been forever since we've been together like this. "I need you. I love you." The words become a mantra. I say them over and over.
He pushes two fingers into me twisting and turning, trying to find that sweet spot. When his fingers find it, I nearly jerk right off them at the pleasure that courses through me. He just chuckles against the skin of my belly and adds a third. He seems to be enjoying torturing me.
Finally, he removes his fingers and places the head of his penis at my entrance.
I swallow my gasp of pain as he breaches me. He didn't take long enough to keep it from hurting like a bitch, but the pain soon gives way to pleasure. All too soon and yet not soon enough he's buried to the balls in my ass.
"God, baby, I've missed you," he whispers as I wrap my legs around his waist.
"Please, Horatio. More. I need more." I am crying now. I thought I'd never be here again. He was so very angry with me for so very long.
He leans down to kiss me and then begins to slowly thrust in and out. He takes his time. Angling every other one to stroke my prostate. After a minute or two, he changes the speed, depth, and angle. He's teasing us both, trying to prolong this.
"I don't think I can hold out much longer!" I gasp as he rises up on his knees and pulls my legs over his shoulders. He begins to really pound into me hitting my prostate each and every time.
"Touch yourself, baby," he instructs.
He loves to watch me masturbate. I grab my dick and start to stroke myself in counterpoint to his thrusts. After only a few minutes I feel my orgasm approaching and speed up my strokes, which makes him thrust faster. We both come with ear splitting shouts. Thank God the neighbors aren't home.
"My God, Speed," he gasps as he collapses on top of me.
"Mmmm," is my intelligent reply. I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and it's starting to catch up with me. I can barely keep my eyes open. Darkness sweeps over me as I give in and close them, everything fading away except the wet and sticky heat of my lover's body against mine. Sleep, real sleep, hovers around me like the wings of a bird. I sink into their softness.
"Come home with me, Speed. Come back to Miami." Whispers follow me into the darkness as I fall asleep.
Home.
Where my life with my love awaits. I think it's time I went there.