Furbi
Witness
Okay, I'm back under the name Furbi. I don't know what happened to my old acount, but I'm not even going to try and mess with it. Thanks to fanilowchick for posting in my absence, and to everyone who's reviewed. On with the next chapter!
Healing Chapter VII - Beginning To Dawn
Horatio awoke with a start. It took him a few moments to realize where he was. Accustomed to the plain, austere walls of the hospital room, he remembered with a great sense of relief that he was now home. Mindful of his injury, he raised himself and sat on the foot of the bed for several moments, trying to will away the pain in his side. He would be substantially more comfortable as soon as he had some breakfast and taken his morning dose of pain medication.
It was only after he had entered the bathroom to clean himself up that he realized he was still wearing the same outfit as when Calleigh and Eric had picked him up from the hospital, over sixteen hours ago. Gazing at his reflection, Horatio saw that his blue dress shirt was terribly wrinkled, and his hair was a complete mess. He ran his hands through it, but a few stubborn locks refused to settle down.
He gave up on trying to tame his red mane and instead descended the stairs to the main floor of his condo. Each step jolted his weakened body more than he would have liked, forcing him to slow his pace to a crawl. Horatio leaned against the wall by the staircase, breathing heavily, one hand pressed to his side as though it would somehow alleviate the agony. Funny how a simple task such as using the stairs in his condo, something he did every day, now seemed such a gigantic obstacle.
Granted, he hadn't been in the greatest physical shape even before the shooting. Horatio could admit that he'd let himself go in the past few years. He no longer bothered to dress in the latest Miami fashions as the younger men of his team did, choosing instead to wear the same old shirts and suits. And yes, he'd gained a considerable amount of weight since Mari died. What, he mused, was the point of keeping himself in shape? It certainly wasn't to impress women; he hadn't dated in longer than he cared to recall. As long as he was fit enough to do his job, Horatio didn't really give a damn what others thought about his appearance.
Or at least he hadn't until eight days ago, when he'd met Renee Locklear. She was a fascinating lady in every aspect; independent, intelligent, and tough, with an open frankness that helped put him at ease. She was also incredibly beautiful, and unfortunately, that seemed to bring out his shy side. He wanted her, but thinking about it also brought to mind Marisol. Her memory, and his grief, had kept him from even considering a relationship with another woman in the last six years. Casual sex was not an option - he wasn't that kind of person. When he made love to a woman, it was far more than physical; he was connecting, bonding his soul to hers.
In other words, when Horatio Caine fell, he fell hard.
Making himself a simple breakfast of eggs and toast had taken nearly twenty minutes, and by the time he had eaten, Horatio was exhausted. Perhaps he should have taken up Calleigh's offer of staying with her for a few days. Taking care of himself with a bullethole in his side was harder than he had anticipated.
He sat on the couch, trying to build the stength to hike back upstairs. The pillows were flattened and wrinkled but held a vague feminine scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the remnants of Renee's perfume. Desire surged through him as he was struck with the sudden thought of what it would be like to kiss her. He imagined how she would taste... and then he could visualize doing more than kissing.
Slow down, boy! he reprimanded himself. She's probably not even interested in you.
Why would she be? Renee was a gorgeous young woman with a good head on her shoulders and a body that would make most men drop to their knees. For her to be attracted to an old, lonely man like himself would be nothing short of a miracle. But there was something in her eyes, something that made him want to cling onto that distant hope. He wanted to believe she truly cared.
There was only one way to find out, he reasoned. Horatio summoned his courage and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, along with the note Renee had given him the day she'd visited him in the hospital.
Hands trembling with nervousness and anticipation, he began to dial the number.
Healing Chapter VII - Beginning To Dawn
Horatio awoke with a start. It took him a few moments to realize where he was. Accustomed to the plain, austere walls of the hospital room, he remembered with a great sense of relief that he was now home. Mindful of his injury, he raised himself and sat on the foot of the bed for several moments, trying to will away the pain in his side. He would be substantially more comfortable as soon as he had some breakfast and taken his morning dose of pain medication.
It was only after he had entered the bathroom to clean himself up that he realized he was still wearing the same outfit as when Calleigh and Eric had picked him up from the hospital, over sixteen hours ago. Gazing at his reflection, Horatio saw that his blue dress shirt was terribly wrinkled, and his hair was a complete mess. He ran his hands through it, but a few stubborn locks refused to settle down.
He gave up on trying to tame his red mane and instead descended the stairs to the main floor of his condo. Each step jolted his weakened body more than he would have liked, forcing him to slow his pace to a crawl. Horatio leaned against the wall by the staircase, breathing heavily, one hand pressed to his side as though it would somehow alleviate the agony. Funny how a simple task such as using the stairs in his condo, something he did every day, now seemed such a gigantic obstacle.
Granted, he hadn't been in the greatest physical shape even before the shooting. Horatio could admit that he'd let himself go in the past few years. He no longer bothered to dress in the latest Miami fashions as the younger men of his team did, choosing instead to wear the same old shirts and suits. And yes, he'd gained a considerable amount of weight since Mari died. What, he mused, was the point of keeping himself in shape? It certainly wasn't to impress women; he hadn't dated in longer than he cared to recall. As long as he was fit enough to do his job, Horatio didn't really give a damn what others thought about his appearance.
Or at least he hadn't until eight days ago, when he'd met Renee Locklear. She was a fascinating lady in every aspect; independent, intelligent, and tough, with an open frankness that helped put him at ease. She was also incredibly beautiful, and unfortunately, that seemed to bring out his shy side. He wanted her, but thinking about it also brought to mind Marisol. Her memory, and his grief, had kept him from even considering a relationship with another woman in the last six years. Casual sex was not an option - he wasn't that kind of person. When he made love to a woman, it was far more than physical; he was connecting, bonding his soul to hers.
In other words, when Horatio Caine fell, he fell hard.
Making himself a simple breakfast of eggs and toast had taken nearly twenty minutes, and by the time he had eaten, Horatio was exhausted. Perhaps he should have taken up Calleigh's offer of staying with her for a few days. Taking care of himself with a bullethole in his side was harder than he had anticipated.
He sat on the couch, trying to build the stength to hike back upstairs. The pillows were flattened and wrinkled but held a vague feminine scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the remnants of Renee's perfume. Desire surged through him as he was struck with the sudden thought of what it would be like to kiss her. He imagined how she would taste... and then he could visualize doing more than kissing.
Slow down, boy! he reprimanded himself. She's probably not even interested in you.
Why would she be? Renee was a gorgeous young woman with a good head on her shoulders and a body that would make most men drop to their knees. For her to be attracted to an old, lonely man like himself would be nothing short of a miracle. But there was something in her eyes, something that made him want to cling onto that distant hope. He wanted to believe she truly cared.
There was only one way to find out, he reasoned. Horatio summoned his courage and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, along with the note Renee had given him the day she'd visited him in the hospital.
Hands trembling with nervousness and anticipation, he began to dial the number.
