HORATIO'S SECRET

They worked together on the crime scene, in silence for the most part. They both knew the job, and each other, so well that conversation was hardly needed. In fact, it was only when Horatio stopped working that Eric noticed and looked up.

Horatio was leaning against the wall of the building. Something about his demeanour struck Eric as odd.

"You okay, boss?" he asked.

Horatio hesitated. "I don't feel too good…"

"Do you want to go? I can do the rest of this myself…"

"No. I'm just going to sit in the car for five minutes. You carry on." He eased himself off the wall, and walked away.

Eric now found it difficult to concentrate. It was such an unusual statement from his boss – the man who, only a year before, had been pulled half-drowned from the sea, with a bullet fragment in the gut, and still managed to complete a day's work, including a manhunt… Horatio was tough. And Horatio was so rarely ill…

He completed the crime scene processing, hoping he hadn't been too distracted to do it properly, and walked back towards the car. Horatio was sitting in the passenger seat, head back, eyes closed. He was pale, with sweat visible on his forehead. The window was rolled down. Not wanting to startle him, Eric cleared his throat as he approached. His boss opened his eyes and sat up.

He smiled. "Sorry about that."

"You all right?"

"Eaten something that disagreed with me, I think."

"Sick?"

"Oh yeah… And gut ache…"

"Shall I drive you home?"

Horatio looked indignant. "Good Lord, no! Back to work. And don't say anything, okay?"

"Whatever you say, boss." Eric knew it was no use arguing with him. Anyway, even he could get a stomach upset, he supposed.

Horatio was, in truth, not as comfortable as he was making out. This was the latest of several events over the past few weeks. True, it was the first time he'd been caught out at work, but he'd had various attacks of nausea, stomach pain, and just generally feeling unwell. He knew it was probably time to see a doctor. This one was bad. It was all he could do to appear relaxed in front of Eric. He had a fierce pain across his stomach. He pulled in deep careful breaths to try to ease it.

"What do you think, boss?" Eric's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Sorry… What did you say?"

Eric glanced at him. "You're not well…"

"I'm okay. Just not concentrating."

"You don't look okay."

Horatio shifted impatiently in his seat. "Don't nag me. I've got a bad stomach, that's all. Now, what were you saying?"

"I was just asking if you think it could have been accidental…"

Horatio struggled to put his thoughts in order. "I don't think so. No one called 911. And all the indications are that it was deliberate. One gunshot could conceivably be accidental, but not a second one. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. It just didn't look like a hit. No one picked up the casings. Small caliber weapon. No head shots. Unlucky that it was fatal at all."

"Which says 'amateur', not 'accident'. Still, you know me – open-minded until it's proved. Stranger things have happened."

They pulled into the parking garage of the lab. Eric looked at his boss. "Do you feel better?"

Horatio gave a non-committal shrug. "Go on, take the evidence in. I'll come and join you in five minutes."

Eric watched him go. He wouldn't say anything to the others, although he didn't understand why it should be a secret. But he knew Horatio – any hint of weakness was a taboo subject. With a sigh, he collected the evidence and headed for the lab.

In his office, Horatio went straight into the bathroom, locked the door, sat on the closed toilet seat and leaned forward, his arms wrapped round his body. The pain wouldn't go, but at least here, in private, he didn't have to pretend. After a few minutes, he got up, rummaged in the cabinet for painkillers and swallowed two. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked pale and sweaty. Noticeably so. As he waited for the pills to work, he pulled off his damp shirt and rinsed his face. A squirt of deodorant, a fresh shirt, and the edge being taken off his stomach pain, and he felt better. Even so, he went back to his desk and called the PD doctor. Before he changed his mind.

"Got any appointments, Richard?" he asked.

"If it's urgent, Horatio…"

"No, it's not really urgent."

"Come on, tough guy… You never call me… What's up?"

"Oh… stomach ache, sickness… It comes and goes, but it's been going on a bit."

"How long?"

"Couple of weeks, but very much off and on."

"I think you should come over. Half-four?"

Horatio sighed. "Okay."

He rang off and went to find Eric.

He felt better and worked with Eric for the rest of the afternoon, excusing himself – 'Got to go over to HQ…' – at four.

Now he faced Richard Evans, feeling a bit of a fraud.

"I feel better, Richard. As I said, it comes and goes."

"Even so, a couple of weeks is too long for a simple stomach bug. But you know that, or you wouldn't have called. Tell me about it."

He did so, reluctant, as always, to discuss his health.

"Well, it could be recurrent gastritis… Could be an ulcer… Any blood?"

"Where?"

The doctor chuckled. "Where there shouldn't be. When you throw up. Or the other end."

"No. None."

"Well, that's good." He indicated the bed. "Lie down – just loosen your shirt and pants."

The doctor came over and stuck a thermometer probe in his ear. "Hmm… You're slightly feverish, which probably means some kind of infection…" He pulled the clothes back and started feeling Horatio's belly. "God, you're tense! Try to relax…"

He went on prodding and feeling, occasionally asking, "Is that sore?" Horatio's 'Not really' made him smile. "Look, I know your 'I'm tough' routine. I need to know where it hurts, so stop pretending."

"How do you know it does?"

"Because your muscles are taut as a drum. And that little intake of breath is a giveaway."

Horatio smiled sheepishly. "Fair enough. It all feels tender. Sort of bruised. But I had a pretty bad session this morning."

The doctor moved his hand to Horatio's right side and pressed.

"Ouch! Jesus, what did you do?" Horatio muttered.

The doctor reapplied the pressure.

"All right! That hurts!"

The doctor stood back. "I think, my friend, that you have appendicitis."

"What?"

"Seriously. You've probably got chronic appendicitis, what laymen call a grumbling appendix. Comes and goes, but doesn't usually get better on its own, and there's a high risk of it turning into the acute form."

"What can you do?"

"Well, you ought to go into hospital…" He held up a hand to stop the inevitable protest. "But, as it's not particularly bad at the moment, I'll try you on strong antibiotics for a few days. It may clear up, but it may not. Get dressed."

Horatio stood and refastened his clothes, tucking his shirt into his pants. "And if it doesn't?"

"You know the answer. It's a very minor procedure these days. Look, if it either starts hurting more frequently, or more intensely, don't ignore it. I mean it, Horatio. It can progress into something serious very quickly, and that would mean an emergency dash to the hospital. Now, start taking these, and come back in a couple of days. Sooner if you need."

He scribbled a prescription and passed it to Horatio.

"You know antibiotics don't agree with me."

"I know, but you've only got the two options. Anyway, this is a new one. You might tolerate it better. Okay?"

Horatio nodded. "Thanks. I didn't think people my age got appendicitis."

"It's unusual, but far from unheard of. Look… I know how you are about your health – you'll happily ignore it until it floors you. I think you ought to think about surgery… Clear a week or two on your calendar and get it sorted once and for all. They'll do it keyhole, so you won't even be scarred."

"As if I care about that."

"I know, but you won't have to wait for surgical scars to heal, so it's quick and not particularly painful."

"How long off work?"

"Couple of weeks. Less if you're careful. Deskwork, no heavy lifting, and you might manage in… ten days."

"Or a week? Richard, I'm really busy…"

"I know. You always are. But you're not going to be that effective if you're constantly feeling ill, are you?" The doctor's voice was sympathetic. He and Horatio had known each other for several years, even if only for routine physicals, and understood each other. "This morning… Were you working?"

Horatio chuckled. "I was in the field, at a crime scene. First time I've got caught out in public. Though only Eric knows."

"Eric?"

"Eric Delko – my brother-in-law. He won't say anything."

The doctor shook his head, with a wry smile. "Horatio… My tough guy… It doesn't matter if people know. It's not a weakness."

"I'd just rather they didn't, that's all."

"I know. Think about it, yes? And I'll see you on Friday."

"Okay."

Horatio drove home, via a drugstore to fill the prescription. He wasn't sure how he felt about the diagnosis. He supposed it could be worse. And the drugs might clear it. With luck.

He switched on his laptop and researched 'chronic appendicitis' on the web. It wasn't very encouraging, leaning strongly towards surgery. He wondered if he had been guilty of downplaying it with the doctor. It had been more than two weeks. Just vague stomach aches… He hadn't thought much of it, putting it down to stress… So he supposed it was getting worse.

He began to think how he could take a week out. Of course, he could come clean and simply take a week's sick leave. But that wasn't his way. The last thing he wanted was to be quizzed about his state of health, or visited in hospital. His team, efficient CSIs as they were, were exceedingly nosy. Their inquisitiveness was a virtue in their line of work, but he didn't want it turned on him. He considered saying he was attending a conference somewhere. He'd get called, of course… but he could bluff…

He went to bed, hoping the antibiotics would have an effect on the infection, and not on the rest of him.

He knew, from past experience, that his body didn't take well to antibiotics. Sure enough, he awoke the next day with a pounding headache and mild nausea. In consequence, he was in a foul mood when he arrived at work.

When Eric inquired, "You feeling better?" he snapped, "I'm fine," far more abruptly than the man deserved. He felt Eric examining him, and added, "No work to do?"

Eric shrugged and went back to his work. Horatio didn't miss the tiny smile and shake of head from his co-worker. He toyed with calling his doctor, but he knew what he'd say. Instead, he dosed his headache, hoping he wasn't going to make matters worse, and toughed it out for the next couple of days.

On Friday, he presented himself to Richard Evans again.

The doctor chuckled. "You look happy… Problems?"

"Usual reaction to antibiotics. Splitting headaches and the rest."

"I'm sorry. What about your stomach?"

"Hard to tell. The headaches make me feel sick."

"Go on, lie down. I can soon tell…"

He was examined as before. "Well, you're not running a temperature, which is good," the doctor murmured. He pressed the appendix area. "Less sore?"

"Yes, I think so."

"So the antibiotics are working… How we proceed is up to you."

"I can't work, feeling like this. And I'm probably over-dosing on Tylenol…"

"Well, you know my recommendation…"

"I do. If I decide on surgery, how soon could I have it done?"

"I could get you in on Monday. You'd be out by Thursday, if there are no complications. Few days' rest at home…"

Horatio nodded slowly. "I guess I'll have to then."

"It's a wise decision. I'll instruct the hospital to give you intravenous antibiotics afterwards. They won't upset you. Promise me you'll rest. No rushing back to work."

Horatio nodded, his expression non-committal.

He drove back to the lab, booked a week off – he was tempted to take holiday, but thought that was plain stupid, and booked sick leave instead. Then he called Eric to his office.

Horatio was an accomplished liar, but Eric was one person he found difficult to lie to. Nevertheless…

"I'm going to be out all next week, so you'll be in charge."

"Oh, okay… Problems?"

Go on, say it… "Not at all. The chief's asked me to stand in for him at some conference."

"Sounds boring."

"It is, but I can't exactly refuse. I'll be reachable on the cell, some of the time…"

"Where is it?"

"What?"

"This conference."

"Oh… New York."

Eric nodded. "Want a lift to the airport?"

"No, it's all arranged. You'll be okay?"

"Of course, Acting-Chief Caine."

Eric grinned at him, and Horatio felt a blush suffusing his face. He got the distinct feeling that Eric knew he was lying. Still, he probably wouldn't challenge him. He wondered what would happen if the chief paid a visit to the lab, while he was away. Again, he knew none of his team would say anything. Unless the chief – anyone – said, 'Where's Horatio?'

Well, he couldn't go back on it now.

It was Tuesday evening. Horatio had retreated to bed, after an hour of exercise round the hospital corridors. He was appendix-less, sore, but more uncomfortable than in pain.

A nurse put her head round the door. "Visitor for you, Mr Caine."

"Who?" He frowned, thinking who could possibly know he was there. His heart sank at the thought he'd been found out.

"Only me." Richard Evans came in. "How are you?"

"Fine. You don't need to check up on me."

"I'm not. I was passing. Though I wanted to see if my diagnosis was correct."

"And was it?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Your appendix was infected. You're better off without it. What did you tell them at work?"

"That I'm at a conference."

"Horatio!"

"Don't you rat me out, Richard…"

"Would I! I just don't understand the need for secrecy. Anyway, as long as you're doing okay…"

"I am. Can I go home?"

"Give it a couple of days. You need to stay on antibiotics, and I'm sure you don't want oral ones. Have a rest…"

He was home on Thursday, feeling a little fragile, oddly tired. And fed up. But having given himself a week out of the office, there wasn't much he could do about that.

That evening, he took a call from Eric. "Just wondered how you're doing, boss…"

Again, he had the distinct feeling that Eric knew more than he was saying. "Fine. Bored."

"You don't fancy being Chief then?"

"I'd rather be working a crime scene."

"What's the weather like?"

"Oh… cold. I think. I haven't really been outside."

Eric chuckled. "Everywhere's cold after Miami. Nice hotel?"

He glanced round his own condo. "It's okay. You know…" Do you, Eric? Know? Are you testing me? "Did you want something?"

"Only to tell you we got the person who did that shooting. It was a woman."

"That was quick. Well done."

"You're back on Monday, right?"

"Should be, barring the… unexpected. You missing me?"

Eric chuckled. "Always."

He felt well enough to return to work on Monday. He was still sore, and knew he'd have to make sure he didn't get involved in anything energetic. But he thought he had probably got away with keeping the reasons for his absence secret.

He called Eric. "Come and give me a debrief…"

It had been a quiet week, and it didn't take long for Eric to bring Horatio up to speed.

Then Eric hesitated.

"What?" Horatio frowned.

"Are you okay?"

Horatio raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't I be?"

There was a long pause. "I know, H. I know where you were. I'm sorry – it was a complete accident…"

"What do you think you know?" his boss said icily.

"Don't be like that. I was talking to that girl from Human Resources – you know, the blond one – and she said 'How's your boss?' I had no idea what she meant."

"And?"

"Well, she knew she'd said the wrong thing…"

"Too right."

"Come on, she didn't mean anything by it. And then she wouldn't say anything else. But…" He shrugged. "It piqued my interest."

"Well, you are a CSI… And what did you find out?"

"That there was no conference. That you were on sick leave."

"And?" Horatio's voice was still cold.

"I… investigated."

"You would think that such things were confidential."

"Well, not to a man with a badge. Anyway, I tracked you to the hospital. They told me you were recovering from 'the operation' and were going home on Thursday, and I rang you – you were at home then, I presume… You're not too angry, are you?"

"I don't know. Does everyone know?"

"God, no! Just me."

"Small mercy, I suppose."

"What no one would tell me was why you were there."

"It might have been something embarrassing."

"You? Embarrassed? Was it? You don't have to tell me…"

"Too right I don't!" Horatio said shortly. Then he seemed to relent. "No, not embarrassing. Appendectomy."

"Poor you… Look, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have done it. And I probably shouldn't have told you. But I still don't know why it's a secret."

Horatio smiled. "It just is. Keep it that way, Eric, and I'll forgive you."

THE END