CSI: Miami Horatio Caine A Beautiful Piece of God's Handiwork
Title: A Beautiful Piece of God's Handiwork
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Claim: Horatio Caine
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1133
Prompt: 2--Everybody Hurts---REM
Summary: Horatio loses a dear friend.
Disclaimer: I don't own him nor am I making any money off of this story.
Author's Notes: This is a song fic bunny that refused to shrivel up and die.
Horatio pulled his Hummer up to a patrol car that was being used to cordon off the crime scene. He had received the call out just as he was getting ready to leave for work, so he came to the scene instead of going to the lab first.
The scene comprised of a small area around one of Miami’s high rise apartment buildings. He scanned the building and spotted the open door that led off from the balcony.
He grimaced knowing that his services weren’t going to be needed, but he went through the motions anyway. The victim demanded that much.
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his lover letting him know about the change of plans.
He pocketed his phone and stepped from the silver vehicle. He slipped under the yellow tape ignoring the media as they stood behind the tape clamoring for a glimpse of the victim. It was another senseless crime that would play out on the millions of TV screens across the city.
The thought made him ill, but he hid it well. He walked toward the body and was joined by Frank Tripp.
“What do you got, Frank?” he inquired of the balding detective.
“Bunch of freaking vultures,” Frank grumbled his dislike of the media evidently apparent. “The victim is Beverly Michaels.”
Horatio’s heart faltered in his chest at the news and he did his best to hide his reaction.
Only a few people knew that he and Beverly had become good friends over the years and Horatio was determined to keep it that way. He needed a private life so he could deal with the emotional destroying things his job threw in his path.
“The Pulitzer prized photojournalist?” he responded since that seemed like that was the next logical thing for him to say, if he had been thinking logically.
“The one and the same,” Frank replied. He looked down at his notes. “From what I managed to gather from the witnesses her death was more of a suicide than homicide, but the Chief wants us to treat it with care.”
“We always do,” Horatio murmured. He removed his sunglasses and looked down at the body. He looked at his friend laid out on the payment like a broken doll and grimaced. “We always do.”
Frank looked up and watched the redhead get lost in thought. A normal occurrence, but this time the Texan suspected that there might be another reason for the pensive looked on his friend’s face.
&/&/&
Horatio had been doing some housework when Beverly had called and asked if she could come over and talk. She had just returned from doing an assignment in Iraq and needed to decompress.
They had talked long into the night with her telling him the trip had been an eye-opening experience. Horatio could tell that it had brought a slew of old memories to the forefront of her mind; memories of her and her husband working in Kosovo.
Bart Michaels had died covering the sectarian violence and it had taken Beverly years to put his death behind her. She had still been a grieving widow when she had met Horatio, the MDPD’s new golden boy.
They had hit it off and the expose on the lab had been a welcome change to the negative press the MDPD had received in the past. It amused them both, and they would joke about it whenever they met for drinks.
He had teased her about it hoping to cheer her up and he thought he had succeeded. He had asked her before she left if she was going to be alright, and she had assured him that she would be right as rain.
He had believed her.
&/&/&
“You knew her, didn’t you, H?” Frank softly asked. He had worked with the redhead long enough that he could tell when Horatio was hiding something.
“I did,” Horatio admitted. He looked up and gave Frank a sad smile. “We met when she did that piece on the lab.”
Frank nodded. He had seen it. He had been impressed at the time that the piece hadn’t been a damning critique of the MDPD. “I’m sorry,” he said knowing it wouldn’t bring Horatio’s friend back.
Horatio opened his mouth to respond when his phone went off. He looked at the display. It was another call out. It was for a homicide on the beach.
He sighed.
“It’s going to be a busy day,” he told Frank. “I caught another case.”
“I’ll take care of Mrs. Michaels for you, H.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Horatio said before walking away.
&/&/&
Horatio sat on his beach reflecting on his friendship with Beverly Michaels as the sun began to set. He scooped up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers.
Beverly had told him one time that she was like a grain of sand. She didn’t amount too much by herself, but put her together with people who had a story to tell and her work became another amazing piece of God’s handiwork not unlike the beach he sat on.
It was a lovely way to think of her, but it still didn’t keep him from thinking that he had missed something, that he could have saved her.
Her favorite song ran through his tired mind.
When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on
'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone
Horatio had always found it an odd choice, but knowing Beverly he figured she found hope in it.
He felt his lover slip in behind him. He was pulled back against a solid chest and that was all he needed to finally let go of the pain he had been carrying around all day. He let the tears slide down his face unchecked as he grieved for his friend.
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Claim: Horatio Caine
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1133
Prompt: 2--Everybody Hurts---REM
Summary: Horatio loses a dear friend.
Disclaimer: I don't own him nor am I making any money off of this story.
Author's Notes: This is a song fic bunny that refused to shrivel up and die.
Horatio pulled his Hummer up to a patrol car that was being used to cordon off the crime scene. He had received the call out just as he was getting ready to leave for work, so he came to the scene instead of going to the lab first.
The scene comprised of a small area around one of Miami’s high rise apartment buildings. He scanned the building and spotted the open door that led off from the balcony.
He grimaced knowing that his services weren’t going to be needed, but he went through the motions anyway. The victim demanded that much.
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his lover letting him know about the change of plans.
He pocketed his phone and stepped from the silver vehicle. He slipped under the yellow tape ignoring the media as they stood behind the tape clamoring for a glimpse of the victim. It was another senseless crime that would play out on the millions of TV screens across the city.
The thought made him ill, but he hid it well. He walked toward the body and was joined by Frank Tripp.
“What do you got, Frank?” he inquired of the balding detective.
“Bunch of freaking vultures,” Frank grumbled his dislike of the media evidently apparent. “The victim is Beverly Michaels.”
Horatio’s heart faltered in his chest at the news and he did his best to hide his reaction.
Only a few people knew that he and Beverly had become good friends over the years and Horatio was determined to keep it that way. He needed a private life so he could deal with the emotional destroying things his job threw in his path.
“The Pulitzer prized photojournalist?” he responded since that seemed like that was the next logical thing for him to say, if he had been thinking logically.
“The one and the same,” Frank replied. He looked down at his notes. “From what I managed to gather from the witnesses her death was more of a suicide than homicide, but the Chief wants us to treat it with care.”
“We always do,” Horatio murmured. He removed his sunglasses and looked down at the body. He looked at his friend laid out on the payment like a broken doll and grimaced. “We always do.”
Frank looked up and watched the redhead get lost in thought. A normal occurrence, but this time the Texan suspected that there might be another reason for the pensive looked on his friend’s face.
&/&/&
Horatio had been doing some housework when Beverly had called and asked if she could come over and talk. She had just returned from doing an assignment in Iraq and needed to decompress.
They had talked long into the night with her telling him the trip had been an eye-opening experience. Horatio could tell that it had brought a slew of old memories to the forefront of her mind; memories of her and her husband working in Kosovo.
Bart Michaels had died covering the sectarian violence and it had taken Beverly years to put his death behind her. She had still been a grieving widow when she had met Horatio, the MDPD’s new golden boy.
They had hit it off and the expose on the lab had been a welcome change to the negative press the MDPD had received in the past. It amused them both, and they would joke about it whenever they met for drinks.
He had teased her about it hoping to cheer her up and he thought he had succeeded. He had asked her before she left if she was going to be alright, and she had assured him that she would be right as rain.
He had believed her.
&/&/&
“You knew her, didn’t you, H?” Frank softly asked. He had worked with the redhead long enough that he could tell when Horatio was hiding something.
“I did,” Horatio admitted. He looked up and gave Frank a sad smile. “We met when she did that piece on the lab.”
Frank nodded. He had seen it. He had been impressed at the time that the piece hadn’t been a damning critique of the MDPD. “I’m sorry,” he said knowing it wouldn’t bring Horatio’s friend back.
Horatio opened his mouth to respond when his phone went off. He looked at the display. It was another call out. It was for a homicide on the beach.
He sighed.
“It’s going to be a busy day,” he told Frank. “I caught another case.”
“I’ll take care of Mrs. Michaels for you, H.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Horatio said before walking away.
&/&/&
Horatio sat on his beach reflecting on his friendship with Beverly Michaels as the sun began to set. He scooped up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers.
Beverly had told him one time that she was like a grain of sand. She didn’t amount too much by herself, but put her together with people who had a story to tell and her work became another amazing piece of God’s handiwork not unlike the beach he sat on.
It was a lovely way to think of her, but it still didn’t keep him from thinking that he had missed something, that he could have saved her.
Her favorite song ran through his tired mind.
When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on
'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone
Horatio had always found it an odd choice, but knowing Beverly he figured she found hope in it.
He felt his lover slip in behind him. He was pulled back against a solid chest and that was all he needed to finally let go of the pain he had been carrying around all day. He let the tears slide down his face unchecked as he grieved for his friend.