Prompt: Stranded

Ready for the Storm

It was raining heavily when Horatio answered the doorbell and turned on the porch light. He opened, not sure of what to say in response to a partially damp Rick Stetler standing at his doorstep.

"Coming to harass me at home?" Horatio said lowly, tightening his grip on the doorknob and preparing himself to slam it at any moment. "That's pretty low, Rick; even for you."

"This isn't about work," Rick sighed, looking up through the storm door at the older man. "I need to talk to you."

Horatio didn't budge. "What about?"

Rick bounced on his heels for a moment, trying to find the right words. Internal Affairs gave Rick the promotion to Lieutenant because he once was able to get a handle on Horatio and the other CSIs, but things have been getting out of control. For the past several weeks Horatio had been more hostile than usual towards his suspects; the complaints of brutality making their way to Rick constantly.

"Your post-traumatic incident interview after Jesse's death," Rick sighed, not wanting to meet Horatio's eyes, "you never went."

"Ahh." The redhead chuckled lowly, ducking his head and arching his eyebrows. "So this is about work. As expected, Rick."

"It's not just Jesse," he retorted, taking a small step forwards and hoping that Horatio wouldn't close the door on him. "You just keep having things get thrown at you, not all of them as drastic as death but certainly something you should talk to someone about. In the beginning I didn't say much because I thought you had a handle on it, and you did. You were able to manage everything quite well. But now you can't handle it anymore, that's pretty obvious. And you're taking it all out on your suspects. It's bad for your record. It's bad for the department. And I know it's not you, Horatio."

"I see," he nodded, although his flashing blue eyes and the low growl of his voice hinted otherwise. "So you're saying… what you're saying, Rick, is that you think I'm endangering the department and it's making you look bad."

"That's not what I said," the IA lieutenant growled back. "I'm trying to say that there's something big going on with you. Really big. And you keep trying to repress it and you're having a hard time holding back. And I don't think you're the sort of person who would start sniping people from the rooftops; I think you'll turn this all back on yourself. I know you're frustrated and I honestly think you need help."

Horatio's grip on the doorknob tightened. "I don't need help."

"Horatio, if you're depressed or bipolar or have PTSD, there are medications out there." He took a deep breath as he noticed that Horatio was glaring at him. "What you have to understand that some of this isn't you, it's a chemical imbalance. It's not supposed to be there, but you can manage it with the right treatment. Horatio, listen. With everything that's happened, I can understand. You can't just keep hiding from what happens and pretend it didn't mean as much to you. I mean; Rebecca, Eric, Julia, Saris, Kyle, Marisol-"

"-Rick."

"Resden, Rachel, Ray, Speed-"

"-Stetler."

"You know what? I'm willing to say that you didn't even talk to anyone after your mother was kill-"

"-Go to Hell."

Rick blinked as the door slammed in his face, a breeze perfumed with Horatio's aftershave brushing against him. He pulled open the storm door and knocked.

"Horatio?" he called against the wood frame. "Horatio, I went too far. I'm sorry. Look, we can talk about this. Horatio?"

He heard the soft click of the deadbolt lock before the porch light went out. Leaning against the outside walls, Rick turned to look back to the street. Rain was pouring from the awning in sheets, the flooded gutters spilling down to drown a forgotten flower bed. Somewhere across the green and grey sky thunder growled. Palm trees across the street bowed to the weight on the rain on their fronds.

Unwilling to walk back across Lieutenant Caine's front yard and even less unwilling to try to drive home in the rain, Rick sat down on the porch. The cold brick snagged small threads of his suit as he rested, pulling his knees to his chest. He knew that Horatio wouldn't be happy to see him sitting out there and would be much more content having him try to handle the slick roads; but he didn't care anymore. The two of them fought so often that their arguments were beginning to lose all meaning. It was only when they were on the same page when things began to matter at all to either of them.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rick sighed. Horatio was a series of dead-ends for him, each route looking promising and all coming to the same conclusion. After so many years of this, he was sure that there must be something wrong with him; there had to be a reason why he kept going in circles. Maybe it was Horatio and a wall he built around himself. Whatever the reason, it had gone on long enough for Rick to not even be sure if he had ever even gotten anywhere.

He looked at the puddles that formed in the street, shining silver with the rain and streetlamps. Somehow Horatio always managed to make him feel helpless. And now he was left to sit on the porch until either the rain stopped or Horatio opened the door for him; stuck without much distraction until one of the forces of nature granted him mercy.

Rick looked up at the sky and waited.