CSI: Miami & CSI: New York Crossover Stories: Speed-Burn series: Speed Trap: Reunions

Letting the hot water cascade over his tired, cold body, Danny felt the nervousness start up again. It was rare he was with Joe... uh… Tim, and he wasn’t too comfortable with the other man. Added to the mix was the fact that Tim reminded him of Spedelli; it was enough to make his skin crawl. Danny shuddered and warily looked over at the darker man.

Tim’s back was to him, the scars from his wound very evident against his pale skin. What was even more evident was the lack of the Tanglewood tattoo Danny had so dreaded seeing. There was no indication the man had even had a tattoo, either, no marks, scars, or anything confirming removal by acid or other means. Stunned, unaware he was staring, Danny tried to wrap his head around the idea that he’d mistaken their tech for an old adversary; Joe, or Tim, or whatever he wanted to be called today, was not TJ Spedelli.

The calm voice of Tim broke through Danny’s surprise and he came back to his senses, flushing at how his staring might be construed. With a nonchalance he found hard to display, the New Yorker shrugged and gestured with a careless hand towards the other man’s scars, also visible on his chest. “Went right through the heart?”

Looking down, as if vaguely interested, the man glanced back up and nodded. “Yeah, through-and-through, actually. Guess I’m lucky to be alive at all.”

Danny felt his shoulders jerk and wondered why Mac would think… then his quick mind added the few facts he knew with the many missing pieces and he realized that his boss was probably right. Somehow, New York City’s crime lab had wound up with a CSI from Miami; someone in the Witness program had screwed up big time.

Staying quiet, Danny watched as Mac turned off his showerhead and grabbed a towel, moving closer to the man they’d known as Joe Avery for the past nine months. Absently, Danny noted Mac’s chest scarring from his time in Beirut. Somehow, he felt a little awkward without any marks on his own torso, as if he’d failed to prove himself somehow. The blond shook off the negative feeling and turned his own shower off, grabbing one of the standard locker room towels that were sitting nearby.

Stopping in front of Tim, Mac waited for the man to wrap the cloth around his waist before asking, “So, who is TJ Spedelli? You said you knew him.”

Intense fear struck with that name, and Danny fought for control. His hand shook slightly as he slipped his slightly fogged glasses back on. He knew Tim couldn’t be a Tanglewood Boy, but he apparently had connections, too… just like Danny did. Had Tim recognized Danny, just as the blond had thought he’d recognized the raven-haired man? Taking a series of deep breaths to maintain calm, Danny waited for the answer, his eyes remaining steady on the trace expert.

Speed shook his head at the curiosity he saw in Mac’s and Danny’s expressions, ignoring the fear he also saw in Danny. He headed towards the benches, and the folded CSI jumpers there. In a steady voice, Speed answered, “He was my brother. I’ll explain when we’re all together, Mac. It’ll be easier than repeating it several times.” He turned dark eyes on his current supervisor. “I have a feeling he was the one they were supposed to be putting in protective custody… and if that’s true, someone lied about his death a long time ago.”

As he passed the blond investigator, Speed noticed Danny stiffen. “You must’ve known Tom… TJ,” was his only comment. He stopped by the bench and grabbed the clothing up. Glancing over his shoulder, Speed couldn’t help but notice the stiff set of Danny’s shoulders hadn’t lessened one bit.

It looked like it would take a bit of convincing to prove he wasn’t as bad as his brother had been. Speed did not relish the task; he’d been cleaning up his brother’s messes his entire childhood and escaping his brother’s cruelty during adolescence. It looked like his older brother hadn’t finished blackening either of their names, even after being reported dead fifteen years ago.

Quietly washing and rinsing, HR stayed out of the adult conversation he was hearing. His mother had never appreciated his interruptions, even if they were good questions, so he’d learned long ago to keep his questions to himself. That is, except with Dad; he seemed to like questions. But these men weren’t Dad, and HR had no idea if they even liked kids, let alone questions.

They kept talking about somebody named TJ, which struck HR as interesting since he was going by his initials, too. The tones, however, made him feel like that TJ guy wasn’t very nice. He sure hoped he didn’t have to meet him.

Being a naturally curious ten-year-old, the boy took this rare opportunity to inspect the men, comparing his self to their much larger forms. With some surprise, he noted that there was little difference, except hair and scars; only one even had a tattoo, which seemed to be a common fixture of adult males in cop shows.

Trying to maneuver around to get a good look at the blonde’s arm, and thus the intricate tattoo he wore, HR froze when he noticed the really tall guy moving towards him. It was the man he’d talked to outside, the one who’d said he could come to the crime lab before HR even got to tell him that his father runs the crime lab. With a wide-eyed stare, the boy noticed the scars over the heart area and wondered if he’d been shot; a lot of cops got shot.

When the man moved right by him, the boy swung around and continued watching, seeing the scars on his back, as well. What had he said when the blond man asked? A through-and-through… What did that mean? He’d have to ask Dad; it sounded dangerous. Maybe, HR’s quick mind worked the problem, it means he’s been shot and the bullet went all the way through his body?

The movement of the other two men interrupted his thoughts and he quickly finished rinsing, not wanting to be left in that shower room alone. It was kind of creepy, being so quiet, with that weird echo.

Right on the blonde’s heels, pretty much, HR grabbed his own smaller sized jumpsuit and followed the men to the lockers to get dressed. It was too large, and the boy had a sneaking suspicion it had been made for a woman, even if the embroidery on the front spelled the word “Duquesne”, whatever that meant.

With a soft growl, the dark-haired woman unfolded herself from the tiny rental car and hurried over to the unsheltered glass doors of the crime lab. She tried to pull them open then, ignoring the blatant "Pull" sign in case someone had messed up, she pushed for good measure. Cupping a hand against her face, Margaret Wilson-Caine tried to get a glimpse inside of the normally light, airy building, but it seemed rather forbidden and empty. Had Horatio actually evacuated with Junior, after all?

Rain lashed the woman, sending shivers convulsing through her thinly clad body. A business suit really wasn’t appropriate for a hurricane, and she was beginning to hate Miami all over again. When a tree limb slid over the water-logged road behind her, the reporter nearly screamed.

This was getting ridiculous! It seemed like she’d been chasing after Horatio all day. The least he could have done was leave a note on his door, explaining what shelter he’d gone to. Giving the door one last hard smack for good measure, the woman trudged back to the hated rental car and slumped inside, forehead pressed to the steering wheel as she tried to figure out where to look next.

She was bound and determined to get out of here as soon as possible, and that meant having to pick up Junior from wherever his father was keeping him. It never struck her that she should leave her son in his father’s capable hands; after all, Horatio Jr. was hers, and Margaret Wilson-Caine didn’t like to share.

The sound of several vehicles pulling up brought the woman’s attention from her internal musings. She glanced over and instantly recognized the crime lab Hummers assigned to the investigative staff. Watching, she saw two… three… four people getting out of their separate vehicles, recognizing Horatio as one of them.

With a fierce growl, she yanked open her door and slipped getting out, falling to the pavement. Swearing profusely, she tried to stand and found herself unable in the tight, water-logged suit skirt. She added the pain and humiliation to Horatio’s growing list of crimes. When she felt someone next to her, squatting down and reaching to carefully grasp her elbow, she growled louder and yanked away, slamming her arm against the side of the rental car.

Peg yelped and lashed out at the dark-haired Hispanic man trying to grab for her, ignoring his “Hey, calm down. I’m trying to help you.” Her well-manicured nails raked the man’s handsome face and he swore as he pulled back, hand going instantly to the bleeding welts she caused.

A sudden yank on her other arm had her on her feet and well out of attacking distance.

Anger welled in Horatio when he saw Peg scratch Eric’s face. He strode over in two long strides and yanked her up by her free arm, absently uncaring if he’d managed to hurt his ex-wife. Since she didn’t even cry out, he doubted she’d been injured by him; she would have been screaming bloody murder if she had. “Delko, get inside and get that tended. Document it, in case it becomes trouble.”

“Sure,” Peg’s tone was venomous, “worry about your little cop friend but don’t even ask me if I’m hurt. In case you’re blind as well as deaf, 'Ratio, I’m the one who fell.” She didn’t yank her arm from her ex-husband’s grip, however, believing that if she over-balanced, he’d probably let her fall.

Horatio’s blue eyes snapped fire as he calmly, softly stated, “Don’t ever attack another member of my staff, Peg, or I’ll press charges.” Without another word, he pulled the dark-haired woman to the lab door, sliding his ID through the reader and pulling her inside. She didn’t argue, at least.

Once inside, Horatio let go of his ex-wife as if burned. He watched her stagger, prepared to catch her before she hit the hard floor, but was thankful when she found her balance and remained standing. Vaguely, the lab supervisor was aware of Delko heading towards a first aid station while Ryan unlocked the front door and Calleigh stood by to help if she was needed. Horatio slipped his hands onto his hips, still watching Peg angrily.

With a sigh, Horatio suddenly let the anger go; it wasn’t worth it to get into one of their legendary arguments right in the lab. Peg wouldn’t listen anyway, and he’d just look bad in front of his team. The redhead gestured towards his office, watching Peg carefully. “Let’s go talk, Peg.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of the door opening drew her attention.

Horatio glanced over his shoulder and gave a tired smile to his sister-in-law and nephew. Neither Yelina nor Ray Jr. looked too pleased, and the man knew he’d have to find a way to appease his family. But first, he had to deal with Peg. Turning back to her, he gestured again towards his office, “Peg…” It wasn’t a request, it was a veiled order; and by the narrowing of Peg’s grey eyes, he could tell she recognized it as such.

Peg moved off towards the stairs, not even limping, Horatio noticed. Apparently her worst injury was the arm she’d slammed into her car. He’d have to see that taken care of.

When Yelina signaled Ray Jr. to wait in the lobby then followed the pair, no one protested. Horatio figured Peg thought the woman would take her side, as a matter of feminine principles, while Horatio preferred not to be alone with the woman who had once been his wife. If Yelina wanted to insinuate herself in the middle of what promised to be a very unpleasant interview, Horatio wasn’t about to stop her. He appreciated the backup, even if he didn’t say it.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about his wayward son; Alexx had called to say she had him with her. That was why he’d called his own staff back, as well as Yelina. He wanted them to be able to relax a little, knowing the boy was safe. Horatio would have to see to his son as soon as he got rid of Peg; at least Yelina wouldn’t mind waiting, even if she chose to follow him around until he was free. His sister-in-law was a patient woman.

Once inside the supervisor’s office, Peg’s eyes roamed the room she had never seen before. When she’d divorced Horatio, he’d been on the bomb squad. Naturally, after the divorce, she never visited her ex-husband, so wasn’t even fully sure of just what he did to supervise a criminal science lab. She figured he told the others what cases to research and helped them figure out where to look for their evidence when they got stuck. Supervisors in most occupations, after all, rarely went into the field.

The office was glass-lined, giving a clear view of the labs below. It was neat, clean, and had very few personal touches to denote the man who worked there. Only a few pictures, displayed on the side of his desk, and a childish drawing on one of the cabinets, showed that a person actually used the place. Curiously, Peg drew closer to study the drawing and pictures. What she saw sent her anger flaring once again.

“Who the hell is this?” Peg reached out and snatched the picture off of the desk. The photograph was of a small girl with bright red hair and a pretty, shy smile. There was no denying the resemblance to Horatio, and Peg, who knew he wasn’t married, was livid that he’d display a picture of his bastard right next to her son’s photo.

His attitude was calm, collected, as he glanced at the picture and softly said, “That is Madison, my…”

But Peg cut him off, whirling around and glaring at him. “You had the judge convinced you were a saint. I told him bomb squads can’t possibly work at all hours of the night, all week long. But somehow you managed to get him to side with you and claim that fidelity wasn’t the issue. I had to tell him that I didn’t want to be married to a cop to get the divorce!” Peg slapped the photo face down on the desk and pointed a trembling finger at the taller man. “You convinced the entire world you were this pure, innocent man who was misjudged by his wife, and here I see the evidence! You were sleeping around, ‘Ratio, and I think that’s disgusting!”

Anger sparked again in the redhead’s eyes, but this time he managed to keep his cool. With one swift stride, he stepped next to his ex-wife and reached out. She flinched, surprising him, as he’d never struck her in the entire time they’d known each other. Who hit her? Who scared her so much? Horatio ruthlessly pushed back the wayward thought and finished reaching for Madison’s picture, running a gentle finger over the pretty features of the girl.

“First of all, Peg, Madison is only five. Since we’ve been divorced over ten years that would mean I couldn’t possibly be cheating on you and produce Madison. We were no longer married when she was conceived.” He carefully placed the picture down and turned to Peg, catching just a glimpse of Yelina standing silently in the doorway.

Slipping his hands to his hips, Horatio added, “Second, Peg, I never cheated on you. You admitted yourself that you had made up the infidelity charges to get a divorce. You lied, and you paid.”

“And third,” Horatio knew admitting Raymond was the girl’s father would hurt Yelina, and suddenly, he wanted to protect Yelina. Hurting her to get a point on Peg was not the way to do that. So, he changed what he’s been about to say. “Third, I am as proud to claim Madison as I am HR. She’s a special girl. If you can’t say anything nice about her, leave my lab.” After a small pause, watching Peg try to form words to throw at him, he added even more softly, “On second thought, don’t even mention Madison again, Peg. You don’t have the right to judge her or the circumstances that brought her into the world.”

Yelina’s gentle touch on his shoulder showed Horatio that his sister-in-law was going to support him in this. He was silently thankful for her display. Family was one of the most important things to the criminalist; Peg’s lies and the divorce had been bitter indeed.

“Now, Peg, why are you here?” Horatio looked at the dripping wet woman. “You are supposed to be in Iraq, aren’t you? Or,” he couldn’t resist the barb, “were you shooting safari in Africa?”

The woman straightened her shoulders and sent a glare up to the tall redhead. Crossing her arms over her bosom, she declared, “I’ve been reassigned to California. I want to get moving right away. Where’s Junior?”

She blinked at his calm tone, and Horatio let a small smile play across his face. At her confused, “what?” he responded, “Our son likes to be called HR.”

Peg shook her head then had to push the wet strands of her hair from her eyes. She shot him an annoyed glare. “That’s a stupid nickname. I didn’t give him your name because I thought it would be cute to have him go by your stupid habit of using initials for a name. I…” With a frustrated grunt, she apparently decided that nicknames were foolish to argue about. “I want my son, ‘Ratio.”

“I told you when you left him with me that I would fight in court to keep him, Peg.” His tone was deceptively calm, and it served to force Peg to backtrack.

Doing an apparent reversal, the woman looked around and snapped out, “So, where is he? Did you send him to some shelter by himself? That’s low, ‘Ratio; he’s just a little kid.”

Tilting his head, moving so that he faced the lab below more than his ex-wife, Horatio said, “He’s here with Alexx.”

“You bastard!” Peg slammed her hand on the desk, but no one seemed surprised; Yelina had known the woman way back when and was pretty immune to her odd outbursts, as was Horatio. “I told you I didn’t want him involved with law enforcement. You turn around, defying my wishes for my son, and fill his head with adventurous stories about the glory of police work. He’s going to think that it’s all fun and excitement and get himself shot like your brother did!”

That last comment had been hitting below the belt, and Horatio drew himself up even as Yelina flinched. Blue eyes narrowed dangerously as Horatio stepped closer to his ex-wife. “Your wishes don’t mean anything, Peg. You gave up that right when you dumped him on me just before Christmas. If my son wants to be a cop, I’ll damn well let him be.”

“You’ll get him killed like your brother,” Peg’s voice turned just as deadly.

The pair was interrupted by the sound of Calleigh calling up the steps, “Hey, Horatio, maybe y’all should get dried off.”

“Another one of your sluts, ‘Ratio?” Peg had never known when to back down.

Horatio merely looked the woman straight in the eyes. “A lady, Peg, something you wouldn’t know anything about.” With that, he strode over to Yelina and opened the door for her, gesturing that she should precede him out of the office. At the crashing sound of a photo frame breaking behind him, he calmly stated, “If you damage one more thing in that office, Peg, I’ll charge you with destruction of property and vandalism. Get downstairs and get dried off. I don’t need you getting sick and throwing a tantrum while I’m trying to work.”

To Be Continued in Chapter Twenty: Endings and Beginnings

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