Chaptered Fic: No Other One, Chapter 3
Title: No Other One, Chapter 3
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Yelina Salas, Horatio Caine, the whole Caine family
Author's Note: WARNING: SPOILER FOR SEASON 6. Fulfills
fanfic100 prompt #038, "Touch" and
alphabetasoup prompt, B is for Baal
Summary: Almost two decades ago, Horatio made a decision that would change his family forever. Will they ever be able to get past it? And will he ever tell Yelina how he feels? Spoiler for season 6. HY romance in the future.
I don't own it. Don't sue.
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2
No Other One
Chapter Three: The Woes of Lieutenant Caine
By Duckie Nicks
“Worry gives a small thing a big shadow.” - Swedish Proverb
The interrogation room’s door clicked shut behind him, and though his back was turned, Horatio could still feel Kyle Harmon watching him. Perhaps the blond thought that if he observed the lieutenant enough, he’d know what to say. But for his own part, Horatio was intent on making sure the teenager would fail, though he didn’t really understand why he should feel this way.
Still it hadn’t surprised him that Kyle hadn’t talked. The kid had a mile-long rap sheet and had no doubt learned to keep quiet (unless you thought you could get off) long ago. And truth be told, the redhead was almost grateful for the teen’s silence; it made his job that much easier.
Practically an open and shut case, they had witnesses who could now identify Kyle as the boy they’d seen lurking around. Two teenagers had pointed to him as the mastermind behind the whole thing, and with any luck, they’d get a DNA match as well. Still, something didn’t smell right, Horatio thought as he started his short journey to Valera’s part of the lab.
He wondered for a moment if it was the way this case seemed to be so neatly tied together that bothered him; it just felt too flawless, the redhead thought. And that didn’t usually bother him, but this… this had a perfection, which struck him as contrived.
Not that the case was all that perfect. None of the neighbors had originally been able to accurately describe Kyle. Some of them had even told Calleigh that the teenager they were looking for had dark hair and was Latino. Only when they’d been given a series of mug shots could any of them finger Kyle. And one neighbor hadn’t even been able to do that.
Stalking to the elevator, Horatio hit the down button, which would take him to the DNA lab. Naturally, it would depend on who tried the case, but the redhead was certain none of the neighbors would be asked to testify.
The elevator unceremoniously opened, and the lieutenant stepped in. As the doors shut, he thought about the other witnesses they had - the teenagers. The boy and the girl would absolutely be forced to testify against Kyle as part of their plea bargain. But Horatio was pretty sure anyone from the public defender’s office could eviscerate them on the stand. After all, it wasn’t like two kids trying to dump a barely alive body were paragons of truth.
And so in the end, the CSI knew that this conviction would come down to his team’s work. So far, they hadn’t found any fingerprints to put Kyle at the scene, but Horatio was hoping - and had a feeling - that Valera would find something. Because if they found a DNA match in that crummy apartment the Gannon woman had been kept in, then it didn’t matter to Horatio what role Kyle Harmon played.
It would mean that he was guilty, and that would be more than enough to quell the unease inside the lieutenant.
The doors opened, and Horatio stepped off the elevator. He walked down the hallway to the area where they processed the DNA, all the while hoping it would provide them with answers.
But as he neared the area, the redhead saw someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. Her hair was shorter now than when he had dated her, and it made her seem all the more severe - but there was no denying Rebecca Nevins was still beautiful.
True, Horatio had been the one to end things, and it was a decision he didn’t regret, but nonetheless, he froze then. He quickly evaluated his options: the CSI could continue on his path, run into her, and likely deal with an awkward conversation or he could duck into the AV lab situated to his right.
It was one of the easier decisions he’d made while on the job, and the redhead quietly slipped into the empty, dark room. Someone had left the monitors on, and it cast an eerie blue glow onto the space. The redhead snuck quietly to one of the chairs and sat down. From his position, he’d be able to see everyone passing in the hallway, but they wouldn’t be able to see him. It was the perfect place to hide.
Waiting for Rebecca to walk by, Horatio chose to pass the time going over what little conversation he’d had with Kyle. And it was then that he remembered:
“Next time try not to hire someone who attracts so much attention. But don’t worry. I was the perfect gentleman,” the blond teenager had said.
It had bothered Horatio then, though he tried not to show it, and he’d pushed it aside to get on with the interrogation. But now… now, he couldn’t get that part of the conversation out of his head.
What exactly had Kyle meant by that?
The blond had obviously noticed her, and now that he thought about it, she had been with Kyle when Horatio had arrested him. What had that been about?
And try as he might to come up with something remotely positive, the CSI couldn’t do it. Every conceivable option was bad - made him cringe with worry, and he could only conclude that something bad had happened.
But she would have told you, a voice inside of him tried to counter. Yet the rest of him knew that wasn’t true. Yelina hadn’t told him about Stetler hitting her; she hadn’t gone to him when Ray got into drugs the first and second time. If Kyle had said or done something to her (which Horatio couldn’t see how that hadn’t happened), then his sister-in-law would no doubt keep it from him.
Which made his desire to see her, he thought, all the more irrational. Yelina wouldn’t talk, but… Horatio needed to see that she was okay. He needed to see her face to face because as much as she would try to hide it, she was, in the end, horrible at keeping things from him.
The redhead abruptly got up from his chair.
True, right now he had little more than suspicion to go on. But Horatio had learned long ago to trust his instincts, and at least if he could see her… her eyes would tell him all he needed to know. And with Rebecca Nevins, the case, and the DNA all but forgotten, the redhead wrenched open the door.
His pace was brisk as he hurried towards the stairwell; an elevator would only slow him down. He didn’t even stop at the sound of Valera nervously calling out to him from the hallway that the DNA had been processed. His back turned from her, Horatio missed the dreaded look on her face.
It took him twenty minutes to get to his sister-in-law’s house, and all the while, he tried hard to ignore the voice inside of him arguing that this was wasting time. There was no use giving up now, not when he’d made his decision, he told himself.
She opened the door and smiled at him only moments after he’d knocked. “Horatio.” His name seemed to linger in the air, followed by a definite silence. And he knew he should say something, but the redhead hadn’t thought that far ahead. “You want to come inside?” Yelina asked finally.
Horatio shook his head no, and they fell into silence once more. Mustering up his courage, he asked eventually, “You wanna step outside?”
It was obvious, he thought, that Yelina had no idea what was going through his head, but she told him, “sure,” nonetheless.
Shutting the door behind her, the brunette closed some of the distance between them. Her heels clicked on the small landing. When she’d bought the house after coming back from Rio, Yelina had told him that she’d like the place because it didn’t have an “oppressive” porch. Indeed only a year later, the redhead could see that the yellow and red flowers she’d planted had blossomed proudly.
And now, with her nearer than before, both of them standing underneath the sun’s afternoon rays, Horatio could see it: a small bruise smirching the olive skin of her collarbone. His jaw involuntarily twitched.
Yelina must have noticed because she cocked her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. And when she did that, her dark curls tumbled over her shoulder and easily obscured his view. Which was just as well, Horatio thought, as he forced himself to look her in the eyes.
“I didn’t thank you earlier,” he began. “And I should have.”
The smile she gave him was a reassuring one. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”
“Maybe not,” he said, nodding his head. “Maybe not.”
She shifted on her feet and then asked him, “Is everything all right?”
“Uh… you know, I’m not sure.” He purposely hesitated over his words.
It was a technique he’d perfected over the years. Used mainly with victims of crimes, it allowed Horatio to push as hard as he wanted while still appearing reluctant. And the truth right now was he didn’t care about Yelina’s right to privacy - not when he needed to know what had happened. But he thought it couldn’t hurt to hide behind a cool lack of enthusiasm.
“Something came up,” the redhead said slowly. “In the interrogation.”
“Oh?” Horatio thought he detected a hint of caution in her voice.
“About you,” he told her. Carefully watching her eyes, he could see her expression change from confusion to recognition - and back to forced confusion.
“What about me?” she asked, her words sounding almost strangled.
“Kyle Harmon said there was… an incident,” he lied. “I want you to tell me about that.”
“An incident,” she repeated. “What kind of incident?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
“I was hoping you would tell me.”
Her hazel eyes narrowed on him at that moment, silently assessing him. It made him nervous, and he had to fight off the instinct to fidget under her gaze. Instead, he gave her what he hoped was a look of understanding. But it didn’t matter because somehow Yelina had seen through it, and she smirked.
“No,” she told him, and this time he did wriggle, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Yelina,” he started, but she cut him off.
“Nothing happened, Horatio,” but he could tell that was a lie.
“That’s not what I hear.” The lie was from him this time, and it seemed so odd to him that this should be the case because he had always considered her a friend - family. And Horatio had no delusions about the things they kept from one another; they did that, had always done that, but no more than any other family might. But this… this seemed to take things to a whole new level. Because now absolutely nothing they said to one another was the truth, and it wasn’t seemingly to protect him or even to protect her. They were lying for reasons he didn’t understand, and the redhead hated it.
“If you had heard anything,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s not true,” Horatio countered. “I wanted to...” he paused, this time the move uncalculated and reached for his sunglasses. Plucking them out of his coat pocket, he held the cool plastic in his hands but didn’t put them on. “I wanted to make sure you were all right… and…”
He took a deep breath, absolutely convinced she’d hate him for this next part. “And to once again remind you that there are other options, safer options, besides P.I. work.”
Whatever serenity there had been on her face vanished. Her eyes darkened, her lips turning downwards into a deep frown. “We have been over this before,” Yelina said. Each word was chosen carefully, and it was obvious in the way her accent rounded off each syllable that she was trying to keep her temper in check.
“Yes, we have. And I think we need to discuss this again, given what happened today.”
“'Given what happened today’?” She scowled as she crossed arms defensively over her chest. With the way she was looking at him, Horatio wisely pocketed his sunglasses once more. Normally he trusted her not to attack him, but… now, he wasn’t so sure, and if she did, the redhead would need both hands to protect himself.
“Nothing happened, Horatio!” This time she couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice. “Do you understand that? Absolutely nothing happened to me.” She rubbed one of her temples with her right hand. “And,” Yelina added, “I am not quitting my job because of something you’ve imagined.”
“Something I imagined,” he repeated slowly, softly.
“Yes.”
“All right.” He nodded his head slowly up and down, pausing. “Then would you,” Horatio started, “please explain to me how I imagined this bruise on your neck?”
This time the confusion on her features was not forced. “What are you talking about?”
With only the slightest hesitation, he stepped forward, narrowing the gap between them, and reached up with his hand. His fingers gently brushed her long brown curls aside to show her. Her hair out of the way, his thumb traced the small area of collarbone near the bruise, and he pressed ever so slightly on the injured area.
All the while, his eyes trained on hers; Horatio wanted to see her reaction to his discovery.
But discovery didn’t come quickly to her because, instead of looking down to where his hand was, Yelina seemed equal parts shocked and delighted by the contact itself. Her hazel eyes softened, though he could still see the traces of anger and sadness. Her mouth parted just a little, and she was beautiful, he thought.
And before the moment had even really begun, the niggling reminder popped into his head: she married your brother.
He dropped his hand, cleared his throat, and told her, “Here. Take a look.” Reluctantly, she did, awkwardly craning her head to catch a glimpse of what he could easily see, and Horatio was rewarded with the confusion and realization flitting through her features. “Did I imagine that?” he asked her.
“Horatio…”
“Tell me.” His voice was hard, but not cruel - at least he hoped. She bristled at the idea again, but he pushed some more. “Yelina, how did you get the bruise?” But her answer was more of the same as she pursed her lips and looked away.
He decided to wait her out. And eventually, the brunette looked back at him and said, “I’m fine,” but the words never quite reached her eyes.
Years of experience - hell, years of knowing her - told Horatio that Yelina very clearly wasn’t fine. If he hadn’t believed something had happened before, she’d just confirmed it then.
“What did Kyle Harmon do to you?” he asked more bluntly this time. Mentally, the redhead decided that no matter what her answer was, he was going to take care of that teenager. Oh yes, he would.
And given that his future actions were now already determined, Horatio wasn’t exactly sure why he kept pushing for an answer. By now part of him was more than aware that Yelina was not enjoying this, but… he just had to know. He needed to hear the details so that he could force the truth out of the boy later, needed to know exactly what happened so he could torment himself with another example of how he hadn’t protected his family. Needed to know so that the ghosts of what might have happened wouldn’t haunt his sleep - though admittedly, Horatio hadn’t had a good night’s rest since Yelina had taken the job.
“He didn’t do anything to me,” she said through gritted teeth. A bee buzzed noisily around one of the rose bushes near by. When it flew closer to her, she dangerously swatted it away. To his amusement, the bug didn’t dare fly near her again.
Exasperated, his sister-in-law added, “And what is with you and this kid?” The anger in her eyes gave way to suspicion as she said in a softer tone, “You seem so intent to find fault with him, and… that’s not like you.”
“I’m not-” Now he too was letting his frustration show, and he had to stop - pause - to figure out what he wanted to say. “I’m just going where the evidence is saying to look. And it’s telling me that he -”
“Kyle Harmon didn’t touch me, Horatio.” She was livid, displaying the quiet fury that always got under his skin. But for all her anger and her words, the CSI couldn’t help but think that she was lying. He was sure that she’d picked up on his incredulity, because her next words were, “But you obviously don’t trust me.”
And the painful truth was, in this matter, he didn’t. Her frown deepened at his telling silence.
“So… since that is the case, this is… obviously a waste of your time… and mine.” Her words were carefully chosen and their meaning absolutely clear.
He knew he should apologize or fight the matter - do something - but nothing seemed appropriate in his mind. Every possibility seemed more hopeless than the next; she was angry, and nothing he could say or do would change her mind; Yelina wasn’t going to tell him the truth, and so he remained rooted silently in place.
“You should leave,” she said finally, her voice choked.
There was a brief moment of silence before he conceded sadly, “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” Horatio nodded his head in understanding.
Yet he couldn’t help but tell her, “If something happened, I will figure it out.”
“I have no doubt,” but the tone of her voice, so snide and exacting, told him that she did doubt that. And he turned, started walking down her driveway, hoping she would change her mind. But when Yelina called out to him, it was not in apology.
“You’re not always right, Horatio.”
And slamming his car door shut, he mentally retorted as he drove away that he wasn’t always wrong either.
Go to next Chapter
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Yelina Salas, Horatio Caine, the whole Caine family
Author's Note: WARNING: SPOILER FOR SEASON 6. Fulfills
fanfic100 prompt #038, "Touch" and
alphabetasoup prompt, B is for Baal
Summary: Almost two decades ago, Horatio made a decision that would change his family forever. Will they ever be able to get past it? And will he ever tell Yelina how he feels? Spoiler for season 6. HY romance in the future.
I don't own it. Don't sue.
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2
No Other One
Chapter Three: The Woes of Lieutenant Caine
By Duckie Nicks
“Worry gives a small thing a big shadow.” - Swedish Proverb
The interrogation room’s door clicked shut behind him, and though his back was turned, Horatio could still feel Kyle Harmon watching him. Perhaps the blond thought that if he observed the lieutenant enough, he’d know what to say. But for his own part, Horatio was intent on making sure the teenager would fail, though he didn’t really understand why he should feel this way.
Still it hadn’t surprised him that Kyle hadn’t talked. The kid had a mile-long rap sheet and had no doubt learned to keep quiet (unless you thought you could get off) long ago. And truth be told, the redhead was almost grateful for the teen’s silence; it made his job that much easier.
Practically an open and shut case, they had witnesses who could now identify Kyle as the boy they’d seen lurking around. Two teenagers had pointed to him as the mastermind behind the whole thing, and with any luck, they’d get a DNA match as well. Still, something didn’t smell right, Horatio thought as he started his short journey to Valera’s part of the lab.
He wondered for a moment if it was the way this case seemed to be so neatly tied together that bothered him; it just felt too flawless, the redhead thought. And that didn’t usually bother him, but this… this had a perfection, which struck him as contrived.
Not that the case was all that perfect. None of the neighbors had originally been able to accurately describe Kyle. Some of them had even told Calleigh that the teenager they were looking for had dark hair and was Latino. Only when they’d been given a series of mug shots could any of them finger Kyle. And one neighbor hadn’t even been able to do that.
Stalking to the elevator, Horatio hit the down button, which would take him to the DNA lab. Naturally, it would depend on who tried the case, but the redhead was certain none of the neighbors would be asked to testify.
The elevator unceremoniously opened, and the lieutenant stepped in. As the doors shut, he thought about the other witnesses they had - the teenagers. The boy and the girl would absolutely be forced to testify against Kyle as part of their plea bargain. But Horatio was pretty sure anyone from the public defender’s office could eviscerate them on the stand. After all, it wasn’t like two kids trying to dump a barely alive body were paragons of truth.
And so in the end, the CSI knew that this conviction would come down to his team’s work. So far, they hadn’t found any fingerprints to put Kyle at the scene, but Horatio was hoping - and had a feeling - that Valera would find something. Because if they found a DNA match in that crummy apartment the Gannon woman had been kept in, then it didn’t matter to Horatio what role Kyle Harmon played.
It would mean that he was guilty, and that would be more than enough to quell the unease inside the lieutenant.
The doors opened, and Horatio stepped off the elevator. He walked down the hallway to the area where they processed the DNA, all the while hoping it would provide them with answers.
But as he neared the area, the redhead saw someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. Her hair was shorter now than when he had dated her, and it made her seem all the more severe - but there was no denying Rebecca Nevins was still beautiful.
True, Horatio had been the one to end things, and it was a decision he didn’t regret, but nonetheless, he froze then. He quickly evaluated his options: the CSI could continue on his path, run into her, and likely deal with an awkward conversation or he could duck into the AV lab situated to his right.
It was one of the easier decisions he’d made while on the job, and the redhead quietly slipped into the empty, dark room. Someone had left the monitors on, and it cast an eerie blue glow onto the space. The redhead snuck quietly to one of the chairs and sat down. From his position, he’d be able to see everyone passing in the hallway, but they wouldn’t be able to see him. It was the perfect place to hide.
Waiting for Rebecca to walk by, Horatio chose to pass the time going over what little conversation he’d had with Kyle. And it was then that he remembered:
“Next time try not to hire someone who attracts so much attention. But don’t worry. I was the perfect gentleman,” the blond teenager had said.
It had bothered Horatio then, though he tried not to show it, and he’d pushed it aside to get on with the interrogation. But now… now, he couldn’t get that part of the conversation out of his head.
What exactly had Kyle meant by that?
The blond had obviously noticed her, and now that he thought about it, she had been with Kyle when Horatio had arrested him. What had that been about?
And try as he might to come up with something remotely positive, the CSI couldn’t do it. Every conceivable option was bad - made him cringe with worry, and he could only conclude that something bad had happened.
But she would have told you, a voice inside of him tried to counter. Yet the rest of him knew that wasn’t true. Yelina hadn’t told him about Stetler hitting her; she hadn’t gone to him when Ray got into drugs the first and second time. If Kyle had said or done something to her (which Horatio couldn’t see how that hadn’t happened), then his sister-in-law would no doubt keep it from him.
Which made his desire to see her, he thought, all the more irrational. Yelina wouldn’t talk, but… Horatio needed to see that she was okay. He needed to see her face to face because as much as she would try to hide it, she was, in the end, horrible at keeping things from him.
The redhead abruptly got up from his chair.
True, right now he had little more than suspicion to go on. But Horatio had learned long ago to trust his instincts, and at least if he could see her… her eyes would tell him all he needed to know. And with Rebecca Nevins, the case, and the DNA all but forgotten, the redhead wrenched open the door.
His pace was brisk as he hurried towards the stairwell; an elevator would only slow him down. He didn’t even stop at the sound of Valera nervously calling out to him from the hallway that the DNA had been processed. His back turned from her, Horatio missed the dreaded look on her face.
It took him twenty minutes to get to his sister-in-law’s house, and all the while, he tried hard to ignore the voice inside of him arguing that this was wasting time. There was no use giving up now, not when he’d made his decision, he told himself.
She opened the door and smiled at him only moments after he’d knocked. “Horatio.” His name seemed to linger in the air, followed by a definite silence. And he knew he should say something, but the redhead hadn’t thought that far ahead. “You want to come inside?” Yelina asked finally.
Horatio shook his head no, and they fell into silence once more. Mustering up his courage, he asked eventually, “You wanna step outside?”
It was obvious, he thought, that Yelina had no idea what was going through his head, but she told him, “sure,” nonetheless.
Shutting the door behind her, the brunette closed some of the distance between them. Her heels clicked on the small landing. When she’d bought the house after coming back from Rio, Yelina had told him that she’d like the place because it didn’t have an “oppressive” porch. Indeed only a year later, the redhead could see that the yellow and red flowers she’d planted had blossomed proudly.
And now, with her nearer than before, both of them standing underneath the sun’s afternoon rays, Horatio could see it: a small bruise smirching the olive skin of her collarbone. His jaw involuntarily twitched.
Yelina must have noticed because she cocked her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. And when she did that, her dark curls tumbled over her shoulder and easily obscured his view. Which was just as well, Horatio thought, as he forced himself to look her in the eyes.
“I didn’t thank you earlier,” he began. “And I should have.”
The smile she gave him was a reassuring one. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”
“Maybe not,” he said, nodding his head. “Maybe not.”
She shifted on her feet and then asked him, “Is everything all right?”
“Uh… you know, I’m not sure.” He purposely hesitated over his words.
It was a technique he’d perfected over the years. Used mainly with victims of crimes, it allowed Horatio to push as hard as he wanted while still appearing reluctant. And the truth right now was he didn’t care about Yelina’s right to privacy - not when he needed to know what had happened. But he thought it couldn’t hurt to hide behind a cool lack of enthusiasm.
“Something came up,” the redhead said slowly. “In the interrogation.”
“Oh?” Horatio thought he detected a hint of caution in her voice.
“About you,” he told her. Carefully watching her eyes, he could see her expression change from confusion to recognition - and back to forced confusion.
“What about me?” she asked, her words sounding almost strangled.
“Kyle Harmon said there was… an incident,” he lied. “I want you to tell me about that.”
“An incident,” she repeated. “What kind of incident?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
“I was hoping you would tell me.”
Her hazel eyes narrowed on him at that moment, silently assessing him. It made him nervous, and he had to fight off the instinct to fidget under her gaze. Instead, he gave her what he hoped was a look of understanding. But it didn’t matter because somehow Yelina had seen through it, and she smirked.
“No,” she told him, and this time he did wriggle, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Yelina,” he started, but she cut him off.
“Nothing happened, Horatio,” but he could tell that was a lie.
“That’s not what I hear.” The lie was from him this time, and it seemed so odd to him that this should be the case because he had always considered her a friend - family. And Horatio had no delusions about the things they kept from one another; they did that, had always done that, but no more than any other family might. But this… this seemed to take things to a whole new level. Because now absolutely nothing they said to one another was the truth, and it wasn’t seemingly to protect him or even to protect her. They were lying for reasons he didn’t understand, and the redhead hated it.
“If you had heard anything,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s not true,” Horatio countered. “I wanted to...” he paused, this time the move uncalculated and reached for his sunglasses. Plucking them out of his coat pocket, he held the cool plastic in his hands but didn’t put them on. “I wanted to make sure you were all right… and…”
He took a deep breath, absolutely convinced she’d hate him for this next part. “And to once again remind you that there are other options, safer options, besides P.I. work.”
Whatever serenity there had been on her face vanished. Her eyes darkened, her lips turning downwards into a deep frown. “We have been over this before,” Yelina said. Each word was chosen carefully, and it was obvious in the way her accent rounded off each syllable that she was trying to keep her temper in check.
“Yes, we have. And I think we need to discuss this again, given what happened today.”
“'Given what happened today’?” She scowled as she crossed arms defensively over her chest. With the way she was looking at him, Horatio wisely pocketed his sunglasses once more. Normally he trusted her not to attack him, but… now, he wasn’t so sure, and if she did, the redhead would need both hands to protect himself.
“Nothing happened, Horatio!” This time she couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice. “Do you understand that? Absolutely nothing happened to me.” She rubbed one of her temples with her right hand. “And,” Yelina added, “I am not quitting my job because of something you’ve imagined.”
“Something I imagined,” he repeated slowly, softly.
“Yes.”
“All right.” He nodded his head slowly up and down, pausing. “Then would you,” Horatio started, “please explain to me how I imagined this bruise on your neck?”
This time the confusion on her features was not forced. “What are you talking about?”
With only the slightest hesitation, he stepped forward, narrowing the gap between them, and reached up with his hand. His fingers gently brushed her long brown curls aside to show her. Her hair out of the way, his thumb traced the small area of collarbone near the bruise, and he pressed ever so slightly on the injured area.
All the while, his eyes trained on hers; Horatio wanted to see her reaction to his discovery.
But discovery didn’t come quickly to her because, instead of looking down to where his hand was, Yelina seemed equal parts shocked and delighted by the contact itself. Her hazel eyes softened, though he could still see the traces of anger and sadness. Her mouth parted just a little, and she was beautiful, he thought.
And before the moment had even really begun, the niggling reminder popped into his head: she married your brother.
He dropped his hand, cleared his throat, and told her, “Here. Take a look.” Reluctantly, she did, awkwardly craning her head to catch a glimpse of what he could easily see, and Horatio was rewarded with the confusion and realization flitting through her features. “Did I imagine that?” he asked her.
“Horatio…”
“Tell me.” His voice was hard, but not cruel - at least he hoped. She bristled at the idea again, but he pushed some more. “Yelina, how did you get the bruise?” But her answer was more of the same as she pursed her lips and looked away.
He decided to wait her out. And eventually, the brunette looked back at him and said, “I’m fine,” but the words never quite reached her eyes.
Years of experience - hell, years of knowing her - told Horatio that Yelina very clearly wasn’t fine. If he hadn’t believed something had happened before, she’d just confirmed it then.
“What did Kyle Harmon do to you?” he asked more bluntly this time. Mentally, the redhead decided that no matter what her answer was, he was going to take care of that teenager. Oh yes, he would.
And given that his future actions were now already determined, Horatio wasn’t exactly sure why he kept pushing for an answer. By now part of him was more than aware that Yelina was not enjoying this, but… he just had to know. He needed to hear the details so that he could force the truth out of the boy later, needed to know exactly what happened so he could torment himself with another example of how he hadn’t protected his family. Needed to know so that the ghosts of what might have happened wouldn’t haunt his sleep - though admittedly, Horatio hadn’t had a good night’s rest since Yelina had taken the job.
“He didn’t do anything to me,” she said through gritted teeth. A bee buzzed noisily around one of the rose bushes near by. When it flew closer to her, she dangerously swatted it away. To his amusement, the bug didn’t dare fly near her again.
Exasperated, his sister-in-law added, “And what is with you and this kid?” The anger in her eyes gave way to suspicion as she said in a softer tone, “You seem so intent to find fault with him, and… that’s not like you.”
“I’m not-” Now he too was letting his frustration show, and he had to stop - pause - to figure out what he wanted to say. “I’m just going where the evidence is saying to look. And it’s telling me that he -”
“Kyle Harmon didn’t touch me, Horatio.” She was livid, displaying the quiet fury that always got under his skin. But for all her anger and her words, the CSI couldn’t help but think that she was lying. He was sure that she’d picked up on his incredulity, because her next words were, “But you obviously don’t trust me.”
And the painful truth was, in this matter, he didn’t. Her frown deepened at his telling silence.
“So… since that is the case, this is… obviously a waste of your time… and mine.” Her words were carefully chosen and their meaning absolutely clear.
He knew he should apologize or fight the matter - do something - but nothing seemed appropriate in his mind. Every possibility seemed more hopeless than the next; she was angry, and nothing he could say or do would change her mind; Yelina wasn’t going to tell him the truth, and so he remained rooted silently in place.
“You should leave,” she said finally, her voice choked.
There was a brief moment of silence before he conceded sadly, “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” Horatio nodded his head in understanding.
Yet he couldn’t help but tell her, “If something happened, I will figure it out.”
“I have no doubt,” but the tone of her voice, so snide and exacting, told him that she did doubt that. And he turned, started walking down her driveway, hoping she would change her mind. But when Yelina called out to him, it was not in apology.
“You’re not always right, Horatio.”
And slamming his car door shut, he mentally retorted as he drove away that he wasn’t always wrong either.
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