(no subject)
Title: Spilt Milk
Author: tanzensiemit
Claim: CSI/CSI: Miami
Fandom: CSI/CSI: Miami
Theme: Combo: T-2, P019 = Strangers
Rating: PG-13 / WS / FRT (language)
Author's Notes: Not sure what brought this one on, but I was sitting on the couch, watching tonight’s premieres, and the idea of Ryan going back to the lab popped into my head. Why not?
Two years felt like an eternity but Miami hadn’t seemed to have changed. The sun still rose high each day, the weather was still warm, and the Miami-Dade Crime Lab still made Ryan nauseas. He’d left some bad memories here and he wasn’t to anxious to be back. The two dead cheerleaders his partner, Nick Stokes, and he were here for had absolutely nothing to do with the roiling in his stomach. Nick must have noticed because suddenly he was beside him, not touching but close enough to let Ryan know that he was there for him. The younger CSI appreciated the gesture. The moment passed and they headed inside.
The air conditioning hit the visiting investigators in a welcome rush, urging them further into the building. Nick looked towards Ryan in a silent question to which the other man merely nodded and took the lead. He steered them first towards the receptionists desk for visitor badges then jerked his head towards the elevators; they needed to head to the second floor if they were going to find who they had come to Miami to meet. It’s one of the things Ryan remembers well when he’d worked here - Horatio Caine was rarely in his office. If they were to find the red head they needed to hit the labs.
A few seconds in the lift, they arrived - Ryan led them down an open hallway surrounded by clear glass walls. The Texan followed close behind, turning his head every so often to look through them at the activity taking place behind the glass. A shock of red caught his attention.
“Hey Ry.” Nick’s hand reached out to tug at the sleeve of his friend’s blue buttoned down shirt. “Ain’t that him?” He pointed at the wall to their left with his other hand to indicate a tall red-head who seemed to be engaging a pretty blonde. He dropped both hands back to his side when he was sure Ryan seen them.
‘H. . .Calliegh.' God, He’d not seen nor heard from either of these people since he’d left the lab. No phone calls, no last minute visits as he packed his belongings; hell he didn’t even get a parting smile when he’d walked out the front door. Suddenly the younger man felt sick but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He -they- had a job to do.
“Yeah, that’s Detective Caine and Ca. . ., er, Detective Duquesne. Which works out in our favor since Duquesne is the lead on this end.”
“Lucky for us they’re both in the same room. The sooner we get our ducks in a row the sooner we can see about finding the bastard that killed these girls.”
There was a moment of inactivity between them, of silence. In those stolen seconds Nick remembered what his partner had said back when he’d still been new and just getting use to things on swing. It had taken awhile - a solid three months - for Ryan to finally feel comfortable enough to open up about what drove him out of Miami, a place the man clearly loved, and it had him mad enough to spit bullets. Nicky was an empathizer by nature but even he couldn’t understand how Ryan's former coworkers could let their hurt transmute into resentment and anger to the point where it not only caused them to lash out at an innocent but to essentially force said innocent out of a job that they were not only damned good at but loved.
Ryan watched the play of emotions wash over Nick’s face through the reflection bouncing off the glass and swept a hand out to graze a hanging arm at his friend's side. He appreciated that the older man felt indignation on his behalf, he really did. He even felt a little honored by it. It meant that Nick was truly a friend and Ryan knew he had a few dozen back home who shared the Texan’s sentiments. But there was no need, not anymore. He’d picked up and moved on with his life. The man he use to be wasn’t who was standing here today. And those people in there, the ones separated by glass walls and years of distance, they weren’t familiar to him anymore.
At one time Ryan had hoped the people here in Miami would come around and possibly be his friends. In Alexx though, the coroner, he’d almost found family and she was probably the only one he held any sort of familiarity and regret. She’d left Miami, he’d found out, for D.C. with a secured position with one of the federal agencies so, really, there was no one in this entire building left he felt the need to waste being upset over. Truth was, he didn’t know these people anymore and they sure as hell didn’t know him.
Ryan shrugged exaggeratedly and turned to head down the hallway. They had a job to do.
Author: tanzensiemit
Claim: CSI/CSI: Miami
Fandom: CSI/CSI: Miami
Theme: Combo: T-2, P019 = Strangers
Rating: PG-13 / WS / FRT (language)
Author's Notes: Not sure what brought this one on, but I was sitting on the couch, watching tonight’s premieres, and the idea of Ryan going back to the lab popped into my head. Why not?
Two years felt like an eternity but Miami hadn’t seemed to have changed. The sun still rose high each day, the weather was still warm, and the Miami-Dade Crime Lab still made Ryan nauseas. He’d left some bad memories here and he wasn’t to anxious to be back. The two dead cheerleaders his partner, Nick Stokes, and he were here for had absolutely nothing to do with the roiling in his stomach. Nick must have noticed because suddenly he was beside him, not touching but close enough to let Ryan know that he was there for him. The younger CSI appreciated the gesture. The moment passed and they headed inside.
The air conditioning hit the visiting investigators in a welcome rush, urging them further into the building. Nick looked towards Ryan in a silent question to which the other man merely nodded and took the lead. He steered them first towards the receptionists desk for visitor badges then jerked his head towards the elevators; they needed to head to the second floor if they were going to find who they had come to Miami to meet. It’s one of the things Ryan remembers well when he’d worked here - Horatio Caine was rarely in his office. If they were to find the red head they needed to hit the labs.
A few seconds in the lift, they arrived - Ryan led them down an open hallway surrounded by clear glass walls. The Texan followed close behind, turning his head every so often to look through them at the activity taking place behind the glass. A shock of red caught his attention.
“Hey Ry.” Nick’s hand reached out to tug at the sleeve of his friend’s blue buttoned down shirt. “Ain’t that him?” He pointed at the wall to their left with his other hand to indicate a tall red-head who seemed to be engaging a pretty blonde. He dropped both hands back to his side when he was sure Ryan seen them.
‘H. . .Calliegh.' God, He’d not seen nor heard from either of these people since he’d left the lab. No phone calls, no last minute visits as he packed his belongings; hell he didn’t even get a parting smile when he’d walked out the front door. Suddenly the younger man felt sick but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He -they- had a job to do.
“Yeah, that’s Detective Caine and Ca. . ., er, Detective Duquesne. Which works out in our favor since Duquesne is the lead on this end.”
“Lucky for us they’re both in the same room. The sooner we get our ducks in a row the sooner we can see about finding the bastard that killed these girls.”
There was a moment of inactivity between them, of silence. In those stolen seconds Nick remembered what his partner had said back when he’d still been new and just getting use to things on swing. It had taken awhile - a solid three months - for Ryan to finally feel comfortable enough to open up about what drove him out of Miami, a place the man clearly loved, and it had him mad enough to spit bullets. Nicky was an empathizer by nature but even he couldn’t understand how Ryan's former coworkers could let their hurt transmute into resentment and anger to the point where it not only caused them to lash out at an innocent but to essentially force said innocent out of a job that they were not only damned good at but loved.
Ryan watched the play of emotions wash over Nick’s face through the reflection bouncing off the glass and swept a hand out to graze a hanging arm at his friend's side. He appreciated that the older man felt indignation on his behalf, he really did. He even felt a little honored by it. It meant that Nick was truly a friend and Ryan knew he had a few dozen back home who shared the Texan’s sentiments. But there was no need, not anymore. He’d picked up and moved on with his life. The man he use to be wasn’t who was standing here today. And those people in there, the ones separated by glass walls and years of distance, they weren’t familiar to him anymore.
At one time Ryan had hoped the people here in Miami would come around and possibly be his friends. In Alexx though, the coroner, he’d almost found family and she was probably the only one he held any sort of familiarity and regret. She’d left Miami, he’d found out, for D.C. with a secured position with one of the federal agencies so, really, there was no one in this entire building left he felt the need to waste being upset over. Truth was, he didn’t know these people anymore and they sure as hell didn’t know him.
Ryan shrugged exaggeratedly and turned to head down the hallway. They had a job to do.