Author: Sam

Story: Speed Trap: 3 of 23

Series: Speed-Burn

Setting: Early December, 2004. Miami.

Note: In many official (and unofficial) bios on Horatio Caine, it lists that he is divorced. However, as of the episode "Under the Influence", I have heard no mention of his ex-wife. Also, in researching these bios, I have found no mention of even the woman's name, why they divorced, or when they were married. Thus, I created her for this story, as I needed to introduce a little side story... as they often do in CSI: Miami.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

With a nearly inaudible curse, Horatio re-read the letter. It had been sent by regular post, and delayed in the Thanksgiving and Christmas rush that swamped the post office every year. Thus, it had taken over two months to reach his hands; the forty-nine year old redhead wished it hadn't come at all. He couldn't deal with this now, there was too much on his plate already. He had to make sure this new guy would work out; Ryan Wolfe had worked well on one case, but he might not mesh with the group long term. Horatio had to see if he could hire on more investigative staff, really a team of five for a county this big was hardly enough to effectively cover the busy day shift. And he had IAB breathing down his neck about the loss of Timothy Speedle, which still hurt deeply after nearly three months; he'd foolishly thought Calleigh's vague report had satisfied Stetler, but apparently he'd been too optimistic. Peg would have to wait; the crime lab supervisor simply didn't have time for her petty whining.

True, his ex-wife didn't often come to him with problems, so he was most likely being too harsh on her. After all, for nearly ten years, since their rather heated divorce, they had gone their separate ways. He could count on one hand the amount of times she'd actually asked for his help. Horatio, however, didn't want to deal with a woman who'd accused him of cheating on her to get a divorce, simply because, as it turned out, she hated being married to a cop. Though, in a belated sense of fairness, she'd refused the alimony the judge had tried to award her, her lies and ultimate confession still rankled... even after almost ten years. The woman he'd loved and thought to spend the rest of his life with now meant little more to him than any other person passing on the street.

However, unlike the person on the street, who only needed him if a crime was committed, Peg had decided to waltz back into his life like she still owned that privilege. Demanding, not asking but demanding, a meeting with him as soon as he could, which to Peg meant right away, was totally uncalled for. She didn't even have the courtesy to explain why she wanted him to drop everything and cater to her. Her note simply said, "We need to talk. It's urgent. Call me as soon as you can. Margaret."

Then again, ignoring Peg's odd starts had never helped him avoid them in the long run. It had already been two months since she'd mailed the letter. Two months were enough time to try to put off such a distasteful meeting, even if he'd not known of her request. If he didn't call her and arrange to hear her out, chances were the price for ignorance would be much higher than he cared to pay. Peg was nothing if not demanding and self-centered. Bemused, Horatio wondered just why he'd never noticed those traits while he'd been married to the woman.

Horatio sighed and looked over the letter once more. With a shake of his head, the redhead pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number he'd long ago wished he could forget; she was still living in the house they had once shared, still had the same phone number after all these years. Walking to the glass wall of his office, looking down over the busy techs and hand-picked CSI's, Horatio listened to the shrill sound of ringing in his ear. It was an idyllic view all too quickly shattered by the tired, harried voice he had once enjoyed listening to.

"Margaret Wilson-Caine, may I help you?"

She still used her married name? How had he forgotten such a detail. With a small shake of his head, Horatio pulled himself from the idle musings and softly spoke into the receiver of his cell phone. "Peg? It's Horatio. I got..."

He was quickly, forcefully cut off by her exasperated, "Well, it's about time! I sent that thing months ago. You picked a hell of a lousy time to give me the silent treatment, 'Ratio."

Wincing at the annoying nickname he'd once found so endearing, Horatio in turn cut her off. "Peg, I only just received it." His voice was as calm, as soft as it ever was, but it held that same hint of steel he'd often used in the interrogation room.

She was unheeding. "Right. It took two months to get a thirty-four cent envelope. Fine. I'll run with that." He could imagine her running her hand through those thick black curls, a habit of frustration that used to make him want to longingly follow with his own hands. "'Ratio," her voice cut that memory off, too, "I'm going over seas very soon... before Christmas, in fact. It's imperative that I see you right now. It's something that can't wait."

Ah, yes, Peg had become an investigative journalist, if he recalled correctly: a reporter, plain and simple; the bane of any cop's existence. He caught himself sighing and merely said, "I can meet you in one hour, for lunch. At the Bistro." He waited while she apparently flipped through an over-booked day planner to see if she could squeak him in for this all important meeting she wanted. Her answer actually took him off guard.

"The one we used to go out to when we were still dating?" Was that a softness to her tone?

Horatio didn't think so. He must have been hearing things. Rather than give into the pull of old memories, he spoke a little sharply. "Yes, that's the one. We'll meet for lunch, okay?"

Peg's voice quickly became just as no-nonsense. "Okay. Lunch in one hour. Bring your hearing aid, 'Ratio."

With a frown, Horatio stared at the now buzzing phone, trying to puzzle out that last comment. Damn, he used to think her cryptic remarks were funny and intriguing. Now, he just found it obnoxious: a puzzle he didn't need in a too busy time. Hearing aid? He'd never needed a hearing aid in his life. Maybe she just meant that she wanted to do all the talking. Well, that was normal; he hardly got a word in edgewise when Peg was on a tangent. He didn't look forward to lunch, already feeling the first signs of indigestion... and he hadn't even eaten yet.

Alexx was working quietly in the morgue, scrubbing down the main table after the most recent patient had come through. She preferred to think of them as patients, rather than dead bodies. After all, these people had been somebody, had people who cared for them. The moment she stopped thinking of them as people, she was afraid she'd stop treating them as people. And the dead had just as much right to dignity as the living.

Slowly, the medical examiner's hand stopped raking across the cool surface of the metal slab. Her mind had wandered back to a man who had somehow wound up on her table too early. Naturally, as she dealt for the main part with criminal cases and victims, most of her patients had died too early. But this man was different, special... because it had been Tim Speedle, her friend. Tears welled up as she let herself remember the scruffy, handsome young man she'd so easily befriended.

He had been brilliant, genius really. An insatiable curiosity, mixed with a quick brain, had made him proficient in everything he touched. There didn't seem to be anything Speed couldn't do. But, like all geniuses, he had a slow spot, something which seemed to trip him up where others would have breezed right over. Where some geniuses could run circles around normal people in mathematics or quantum theory, Speed could run laps around his colleagues in forensics and pathology. Like those geniuses, who often had trouble even tying their shoes or adding simple calculations like one plus one, Speed had his own weakness: he had trouble remembering the easy things.

Speed couldn't remember to eat or sleep if he was concentrating on a case. He forgot to restock his kit on a regular basis. Sometimes he even forgot his own kit and had to borrow from Calleigh or Delko. And he forgot to clean his gun. It was that last fault which had landed the man on Alexx's table, under her skilled knife, having a bullet removed from his chest, right near the heart.

With a shudder, still trying to repress the tears and sobs which had wracked her for the last two and a half months, Alexx shook her head and began vigorously scrubbing once more. She couldn't forget, though... and those memories were pushing to the surface, too long repressed for her to do anything but finally give in and ride them out.

Alexx had heard the call of "officer involved shooting" over the morgue scanner. Fearing she'd be needed, hoping she was wrong, the woman had collected her kit and run for the door. Perhaps, if she got there soon enough, she would be taking one of her friends or coworkers to recovery, not seeing him across her slab. Five minutes had been too long, though. When she arrived, on the run from the truck to the jewelry store, she knew she was too late. Taking off her glasses, hoping it was the sudden darkness in the interior of the store that caused her unholy vision, Alexx had to bite back a scream, instead settling on a look of total defeat.

Horatio Caine knelt next to the body of Timothy Speedle.

There was blood down the right side of the supervisor's face, and his normally sunny blue eyes held a lost look, like a puppy that'd been kicked by its favored master. Speed appeared to have bled out, there was so much blood around him, pooled and already congealing in the late September heat, that no one could have survived such a trauma. Alex walked over to the pair and slipped to her knees, uncaring that her beige suit was becoming stained with blood. It was Timmy's blood, after all... her Timmy, the man she'd claimed as her closest friend outside of her marriage... Tim Speedle, her protégée.

"Give him to me, Horatio." Alexx's soft voice had cut through the man's shock and he turned dazed eyes to her. Finally, after an eternity, he nodded and stood, proceeding to Calleigh with instructions involving ballistics. Alexx had been too busy with Speed to care what they spoke about, and so would never recall the exact conversation later, only that it had something to do with Speed's gun jamming.

She moved her hands carefully over Speed's blood-soaked blue shirt, not noticing just when other people arrived. Alexx, however, hadn't even gotten a chance to verify for herself that his pulse was gone before a gruff man knelt beside her and pushed her hands away. Shock and indignation welled up in the gentle African-American and she sent a dagger-laced glare at the offending man. It was her boss, the Chief Medical Examiner, and she softened her glare to one of pain. "I'll take him..."

His head shake stopped her in her tracks. "No. I'll take him. Meet me at the morgue and you..." he cleared his throat gruffly, "you can do the autopsy. But I'll escort his body, Woods. He's a cop, and I should see to the cops. It's only right."

Grief turned to shock and she shook her head in protest. "I should be with him... he's my friend," Alexx looked down at the still form of Speed, "my baby..." the last two words were so soft, she later doubted her supervisor had even heard them. It probably wouldn't have mattered; he immediately sent her a sympathetic look and explained that it would be better to give the reporters the appearances for now, that she'd be allowed to do the autopsy... in private... away from public eyes.

An underling allowed to do a friend's autopsy in secret... was this what her life had turned to?

Alexx stopped protesting before he forbade her to process Speed at all. After all, he was the chief medical examiner. By rights, he could pick and choose which bodies he took care of and which he passed off to his underlings. The woman merely walked back to her truck and drove herself back to the morgue, still unaware or uncaring about the blood soaking her suit and the trace blood coming off her hands to cover her steering wheel. She had to be there for Speed, to help him on that last, painful step to eternal rest. She had to be there in time to process Speed. She owed him that dignity, at least.

The oddities didn't stop with her boss' interference.

Once the body arrived, a full two hours after she'd left the scene, she'd been too relieved to pay too much mind. After all, long waits were sometimes quite normal in a murder... the crime scene, including the body, had to be photographed and processed before anyone could move anything. It was only a live victim who got immediate attention.

Fighting the tears in her eyes, Alexx gently cradled his much larger hand in both of hers. After a long moment, she put it down at his side and stroked his still soft, blood-soaked curls. He looked so peaceful, she almost expected him to respond as if waking, though she knew he couldn't ever respond again. Carefully, Alexx unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it wide to expose the bullet wound to his left pectoral. An inch or two lower and it would have gone into the heart. She raised the back of her hand to her lips to stifle a sob then continued to the foot of the table, removing his shoes one by one.

Sometime during the autopsy, Horatio walked in to watch, but Alexx couldn't have said when or when he'd left, either. She bit back another sob as she finally pierced Speed's cold flesh with her scalpel, examining everything, giving him her best work in his last moments. There was an appendectomy scar on his side; odd how he'd never mentioned the surgery to her. As she turned him over, deciding that taking the bullet out through his back would be easier, she was surprised to find the tattoo on his right shoulder. Speed had never mentioned a tattoo... ever.

She ran a gentle hand over the fine artwork, the intricate details. With a curiosity borne of the need to know everything about her friend now that he could not longer tell her, she pulled over the magnifier and looked more closely at the tattoo. There was a small set of numbers on one side; it looked like a date, a 1989 date. A quick calculation had her realizing that if it was a date, Speed would have been sixteen. Was that the date he'd gotten the tattoo, or had it meant something deeper to him? Alexx sobbed when she realized she'd never know; he couldn't tell her anymore.

Finally, after long hours of grief-filled work, the autopsy was finished. Alexx had discovered one other odd fact she had never known about Tim Speedle: he was left-handed. Actually, she had always believed him to be right-handed, but the musculature and bone mass of both arms told her that he used his left hand far more than his right, contradicting the times she'd seen him working right-handed, or even firing his gun right-handed. But after such intense grief, and such long hours, Alexx put it down to memory faults. She only thought Speed had been right-handed, after all, the body said otherwise.

Looking back on that autopsy now, Alexx had to puzzle out why those small facts had stayed with her. Perhaps because they were little mysteries she could no longer get an answer to. The medical examiner sighed once more, shook her head, and began to put away her cleaning supplies. She couldn't let the memories of Speed overwhelm her, or she'd never make it through the day. But, as always happened when she remembered her dear friend, Alexx wished she could just go home and cuddle with her husband and kids. It promised to be another long day in the sad line-up of long days she'd had since September 20th.

Well, there was always lunch break.

Alexx had the urge for company... the company of her friends. Thus, she picked up her cell and dialed Horatio's number. His calming influence always put her at ease these days. It was as if the strong, quiet leader of the CSI lab didn't have any room for worries, though privately Alexx knew of far too many worries the man shouldered. Somehow he always managed to make those around him feel relaxed, confident, and that was exactly what she needed right then.

The phone rang only twice before it was picked up and Horatio's quiet voice said, "Lieutenant Caine, Crime Lab."

A smile tugged at her lips, as she had known it would. "Horatio, are you busy for lunch?" Okay, so that was a little too to-the-point, but it wasn't a date she was asking for, just some good, solid companionship to take her mind off Speed.

There was a long pause at the other side, and Alexx was more certain with each passing second of silence that he did, indeed, have plans. He was trying to find a way to tell her. Had he heard something in her tone that made it hard for him to just turn her down flat?

She sounds too cheerful... the way she does when she's been crying. Horatio held back a sigh. He had that stupid lunch meeting with Peg, but Alexx needed him. He hated having to run out on his friends. It wasn't often Alexx got to crying, and nowadays it was usually because of Speed. He squashed the sudden hollow feeling that welled inside at the memory of his dead investigator. She needed to be with the living right then, and she'd chosen Horatio as the one that represented life most. Sometimes it was a heavy burden to be so morally supportive, but for a friend, he would move Heaven and Earth if he had to.

Making a decision, he finally said, "Not too busy for you, Alexx. I'm supposed to talk with Peg at one, but if you don't mind a brief moment of unpleasant conversation, I'm yours for the rest of the day."

He listened to the almost inaudible noises she made as she moved on the other side of the connection. It was clear to Horatio that Alexx was seriously considering backing out; any meeting with Horatio's ex-wife couldn't be pleasant. Finally, though she acquiesced. "You're on. I'll give you moral support and you be my shoulder to cry on."

With a soft chuckle, Horatio nodded, though she couldn't see it. "All right. Lunch at one then, Alexx. I'll meet you at the Bistro down the street."

"The one with the pastrami Frank's always trying to get me to try?" There was genuine laughter in the woman's voice at that. "I'm having the tuna," she stated firmly. "Anything Frank wants me to eat is bound to be far too rich in all the wrong flavors."

Horatio laughed back, said, "Okay. One," then hung up. If Peg had a problem with his taking out a colleague, especially a happily married colleague, for a simple lunch, then she could reschedule. It wasn't as if he wanted to meet her, after all. And Alexx had sounded like she needed company.