A Hero's Sorrow

I've been livin' for the moment, but I just can't have my way
and I'm afraid to go to sleep
'Cause tomorrow is today.

People tell me life is sweeter,
But I don't hear what they say.
Nothing comes to change my life,
so tomorrow is today.

Billy Joel

Horatio shuffled the keys around on the ring, trying to find the key to his front door in the practically faded sunlight. As he gripped the doorknob and turned, the echo of his own footsteps on the hardwood floor only served to remind him of how lonely he actually was.

Coming home to the emptiness equivalent to that of the cavernous hole in his heart each night was becoming increasingly painful. The silence gave him too much room to think, and the only solace proved to be insufficient as the nightmares continued to haunt him.

Physically, he was ill. Of course the stresses of the job were partially to blame, but only just. He had nobody else but himself to blame for the lack of sleep and miniscule meals. His tall frame once lean and strong had faded into a thin shadow. The lines under his eyes had deepened, just like his sorrows.

The redhead tossed his key ring onto the table and set his shoes by the door. For several moments, he kept his head low, trying to make up his mind.

In a completely rare act, he walked into the kitchen and pulled out a full bottle of Irish Whiskey. He turned to leave the room, completely disregarding the idea of grabbing a glass. There would be no need to use one tonight.

His body hit the couch haphazardly as he took up a seat in the living room. Drink by drink, he began to drown his pain. However, he found the onslaught on his mind to hit faster than he could drink and as he went to tip the bottle back once more, he stopped and allowed himself room to think; Before he took another swig, before anything else happened.

Look at yourself, Caine. Drinking to solve your problems. You let everyone down! Marisol, Raymond, Speed...your mother. Why?

And that, was one question he found himself unable to answer. Not because he didn't know, but because there were too many reasons. He looked down at the bottle, noting that half of it was already empty. As the effects of the alcohol starting kicking in, he found it difficult to stand up straight.

He wobbled repeatedly as he got up from the couch, his mind losing itself in an inebriated haze. Though the Whiskey was hindering his movement, his inherent despair would not disappear so easily.

Using the wall to guide himself, he made it to his bedroom at last. He sat down on his bed and abandoned the declining supply of Whiskey on the nightstand.

As a police officer, having a firearm at his disposal was convenient in terms of safety. But tonight, the only threat he had to look out for, was himself.

The cold steel bit into his hand as he withdrew the nine mil Sig Sauer from it's worn leather holster. He was coherent enough to think, perhaps too coherent. Without a second thought, he slowly raised the gun to his temple and shuddered a deep breath.

Eric yawned as he turned onto a small residential road leading into his brother in law's neighborhood. He aimed to return Horatio's watch after noticing that he'd left it on a workbench in the processing garage.

The Hummer came to a halt outside the medium-sized condo and as Eric stepped out of the vehicle, he noted the dim light seeping through the blinds. It was getting late, what was his brother doing up still?

The Cuban CSI prepared to knock, but stopped. His eyes traveled to the door jam, and he panicked at the sight of the slightly ajar door. He pulled his handgun from his side and on the count of three, swung the front door open.

He scanned the area in front of him awaiting an imminent attack from some sort of intruder, but instead, he gasped as he tossed a glance down the hallway and into the open master bedroom.

Just fifteen feet away, his brother, his best friend, and his mentor held his service weapon to the side of his head, seemingly Hell-bent on pulling the trigger.

"H! NO!" he yelled, running towards the redhead at full speed. In one swift moment, he reached outwards and locked onto his brother's wrist as they both hit the ground. Eric hit the hardwood floor with a thud with the redhead landing to his left. He sat up on his knees as fast as he could once he saw Horatio turn on his side and make a desperate grab for the tossed firearm.

Delko used his muscular build to his advantage as he grabbed hold of the Lieutenant's wrists. He didn't aim to hurt his brother, but he was willing to do anything to put distance between him and the nine mil lying on the floor just inches away.

Eric lightly shook the redhead and the sound of metal smacking the wall resonated in their ears as he kicked the gun aside.

"H, it's all over. It's all over," he repeated it doubly, trying to penetrate the haze surrounding the man gripped with sorrow next to him. Slowly, he encouraged him to sit up and stand, and as he did so, the elder of the gentleman remained in a trans-like state.

The Cuban officer sat the man down on the bed and purposely placed him on the left, out of reach of his own standard issue weapon. All was silent until Horatio turned to face the man beside him, and with tears cascading from his weary eyes, he lost every ounce of control left in his heart.

"I'm so sorry Eric, I'm so sorry,"

His words came out in one painful sob as he fell to pieces before his brother in an instant. Horatio cradled his head in his hands as he exhausted the lot of pent up emotions contained in his wounded soul. The merciless onslaught of sobbing refused to lessen with every passing minute.

"Come on H, I got you. I got you."

Delko did his best to soothe the redhead's hurt, fully aware of how challenging it promised to be. At a loss, he rested a careful hand on the man's shoulder and bit by bit, pulled him into a strong embrace.

His words were notably muffled by Delko's t-shirt, and once he deciphered what the Lieutenant had been saying, he felt his heart sink.

"I deserve to die," he repeated in between breaths. "I deserve to die."

"No. You don't deserve to die. We'd be lost without you, H."

Minutes began to feel like hours as Eric held onto his brother for dear life. To see him in such bad shape pained him. He regretted not being there for him sooner. It truly seemed as though he would last for hours, crying and letting everything out.

If that's what it would take, then Eric was willing to oblige.

"I don't know what to do, Eric."

The redhead's voice came in a shuddered whisper, and the Cuban CSI spoke strongly as tears stung at his deep brown eyes.

"You'll get through this, Horatio. I know you will. I'll be right here, I promise."

"I promise."

The end