A/N: I just watched the new episode (ahhh!) and here is my take on Horatio's thoughts about- well, everything, I guess. If the dialogue is slightly off, forgive me; I only just saw it, and it won't be up on the internet for me to doublecheck until the west coast has premiered it, too. I'll do it later. :) PLEASE review!

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: Miami or the character Horatio Caine. I wrote this story, but not the episodes, so no lawsuit is necessary. :)

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Why do people say things when they don't mean them?

He'd been around for a long time, and in all his years, he had never understood it. Sure, there were times, like when Marisol died, when he lied because he didn't want to talk about things. But sometimes there's no excuse. Sometimes you have to take responsibility for your actions, and it still isn't good enough.

Sometimes you just have to wonder why you're alive.

"You have to go back."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

That didn't mean he liked it.

Heroism is portrayed as glamorous all the time, but no one ever considers what happens when that hero gets a moment alone, and has to deal with the guilt of what he's being praised for. No one considers that it's hard to have to be the one that saves those who need it.

So when he showed up here, wherever it was, and saw Marisol, he was relieved. He didn't have to be that person anymore. It was a huge responsibility, and he had carried it for what seemed like far too long.

But he reluctantly went back, just like Mari told him to. He dove in and pulled Natalia from the car, feeling the blood pour from his body into the water. He played the hero again, because no one else was around to do it.

And now, he watched Toller flash him an arrogant grin, and did nothing. They had won, but he couldn't help but feel defeated. Or maybe he was just tired, like he had been at the landfill. When Eric wouldn't let him sleep.

He didn't look up as Agent Locklear approached him. He only half heard what she said, until she asked one question in particular.

"Who's Marisol?"

That one hurt, worse than being shot or stabbed. Worse even than when Kyle was kidnapped by Joe LeBrock.

"…She was my wife. She was murdered."

He paused for a moment as she issued her sympathies, wondering whether she would think he was crazy if he told her what was on his mind. He decided that he didn't care.

"She… kept telling me to go back."
"Well, I, for one, am glad you listened."

He struggled to keep his head up. He was so tired, and not just physically. He was tired of everything.

"Do you think you'll be alright?"

There it was. Another thing people don't mean. They ask it with the best of intentions, but all they want to hear is yes. He decided again that it didn't matter anymore what people expect. It was rare in life to get what you want.

"Not really."

She seemed only barely surprised, almost like she had anticipated his answer. He was too exhausted to try to figure out her mindset at the moment, though.

"Why don't we get you checked out?"

She opened the door of the SUV, and after a moment, he conceded. "Okay."

Climbing in the car, he reflected that no one is really a hero. Heroes are people who can swoop in and save the day, and then return to their life as usual, their only scars physical. They were beautiful people who could put incidents and deaths behind them and be alright in the end. No one like that exists, though. Some people are closer than others, but at some time everyone reaches a point where they've had enough. He felt strained and worn out, and more tired than he'd ever felt before.

He knew now wasn't the time to make decisions, that could wait until he was better. But for a moment there, he was back with Marisol, and now she was gone again.

He didn't know how much more he could take.

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A/N: Please review!