Here's the final chapter for you. Happy New Year y'all!

"Hey," Calleigh beamed, entering the hospital room. "They told me I find you up and about today."

Horatio smiled at her. He'd been transferred to a private room on the regular ward four days previously and had been disappointed that Calleigh had not yet visited him. He'd had visits from Speed and Eric, and even Frank had spent a few minutes with him while working on a case.

He doubted that he'd been able to make a good job of hiding his disappointment each time anyone who wasn't Calleigh popped their head around his door.

"I bet it feels good to be out of bed, doesn't it?" she asked, perching herself on the side of his bed.

"Sure does," he responded, wincing slightly as he repositioned himself in the chair, his hand automatically going to his taped ribs.

It had taken much convincing, but he'd finally got the doctor to acquiesce and allow him to get out of bed and start moving around. It had hurt like hell at first, but the more he moved his bruised muscles, the less discomfort it gave him.

She gave him an appraising look as he sat in the chair, taking in his unusually ruffled appearance. Dressed in sweat pants and an old MDPD t-shirt, he looked far from his usual tidy self.

"At least they've given you a shave," she remarked, noticing the stubble-free cheeks.

He let out a small laugh, grimacing as it pulled on his sore muscles. "I talked them into giving me a quick haircut, too. Got to keep up appearances..."

She had to admit that he looked better than he had in days. The swelling had reduced significantly and apart from the unusual attire, he looked much more like the Horatio she'd known before the attack.

"Have they said when they're letting you out of here?"

She saw the frown cross his features. "By the end of the week, hopefully."

She knew him well enough to know that he would want to return to the lab way before he was fit enough to do so.

"Alexx won't let you step foot back in the department until your doctor has given you the all clear. You know that, right?"

Horatio gave her a rueful look. "We'll see about that."

Even though the injuries were healing, it once again hit Calleigh as to how close she'd come to losing him. His tenacity was one of the things that she admired the most about him, but there would be no way she would feel comfortable with him being out in the field unless he was fully fit.

Perhaps it had been cowardly, but she'd chosen only to visit Horatio when she knew he would be asleep. Every day since the showdown with Yelina, she'd snuck into his room at night and watched him as she mulled on the complex feelings she held for this complicated man.

Something had changed within her when she woke this morning. The new day bringing with it a sureness that confronting her fears and confessing her feelings to Horatio was the right thing to do.

He looked at her briefly before his eyes fell to his lap. "I've missed you," he said quietly. "I thought maybe I'd said something to upset you."

Had he not been still recovering, she would have grabbed him and shook him violently.

Why was his first thought always that he was at fault?

"God, no," she said quickly, grabbing his uninjured hand and squeezing it tightly. "It's not that at all."

"I guess the lab's been busy. Being a CSI down and all."

Still he refused to look at her.

"It's not that either."

He looked up at her, confusion written on his face. "Then why?"

Such a simple question.

Such a complicated answer.

Taking a deep breath, she began.

John Hagen rubbed a tired hand over his face, groaning as the effects of last night's excesses made their presence known.

He'd been a no-show at work again yesterday.

People were starting to ask questions – questions that he didn't have the answers to.

Maybe it was his guilty conscience playing tricks on him, but he'd suspected that someone had been following him recently.

Was it one of the people he'd crossed?

He'd spent so long lying to everyone that he'd ended up tying himself in knots. Trying to keep the lies straight in his head was too much for his overloaded mind to deal with.

What if slipped and said the wrong thing to the wrong person?

It had once seemed so easy to be able to keep up the act. Everyone saw him as the straight and reliable John Hagen, all-American cop. Little did anyone know what lurked just below the surface.

The weight of that expectation had grown heavier until he could no longer bear the weight alone. Living a double life was breaking him. The cracks were increasingly visible each day. It would only take the smallest amount of pressure before the flimsy facade would crumble completely.

He knew that he couldn't carry on living like this. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock on the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

It had taken all his determination to bring himself here. Several times he'd contemplated running away. After everything that had happened, the time had finally come to pay the piper.

He felt sweat running down his back as he heard someone call from behind the door.

"Come in."

Scanning the surroundings, he checked to see if the coast was clear before getting out of the car.

The other man had given him instructions to meet him here, telling him that a representative of the Mala Noche wanted a meet with them.

Several times over the past few days he had considered bolting completely. The temptation to run and hide had almost been too much.

He'd been floored by the revelation - that the man he'd sacrificed so much for had been playing him all along.

He'd known that he was taking a risk by throwing his hand in with him, yet the payoff was too lucrative for him to resist. It had taken so much to get to this point, he'd risked everything to achieve his goal. He knew that if he threw the towel in now, it would all have been for nothing.

His life had been full of mistakes, full of regrets for the things he'd done and the people he'd hurt along the way. It had never been his intention to leave behind such a trail of destruction or that the people he cared for would be collateral damage in the carnage he'd caused.

He would be remembered for many things in his life, few of them good. The years of lying and betraying those who had trusted him chipping away at his belief that, underneath it all, he was still a good man.

Everything would come down to this.

Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, his heart hammering in his chest as he heard a voice call out.

"Come in."

"Wow."

Horatio felt the breath leave his body as he stared at Calleigh, stunned at her revelation.

Calleigh had barely taken a breath, speaking so quickly that his brain was having a hard time keeping up with the amount of words falling from those gorgeous lips of hers.

He cursed the hospital staff for the drugs they were still insisting on giving him.

Surely that was the reason he had misheard her.

He had to be mistaken.

He had misunderstood, surely?

"Are you ok?" she asked, a look of concern on her face.

"Uh," he mumbled, still unsure that he'd heard her correctly. "These damn drugs are still messing with my brain," he growled, motioning to the port still attached to the back of his right hand. "Could you repeat that last bit again?"

His heart sored as she gave him a beaming smile.

"I'll repeat it every single day for the rest of my life if that's what it takes to convince you."

Taking the small key from his trouser pocket, Rick Stetler unlocked the desk drawer and removed the folder.

Letting out a deep breath, he thumbed through the pages. The gesture more one of reassurance than a need to refresh his memory on the details held inside. Hell, he could recite the contents of the folder verbatim if needed.

It had become an obsession to him. So much so that it had clouded his judgement at times. There had been so many risks he'd taken to get to this point. Had he not been so resolute in his commitment to the mission he'd set himself, the guilt would have eaten away at him long before now.

He had come too far, risked too much to back out now.

The attack on Horatio Caine had been the catalyst. Things had move quickly these past few weeks and it had taken all he had to try to keep the lies straight. He had assumed that having Caine out of the way, albeit temporarily, would make his job easier and yet it had the opposite effect with everyone closing ranks around the injured lieutenant.

The hyper-vigilance of Horatio's team had meant the he'd needed to be even more cautious. One wrong step and everything he had worked for, everything he had risked up until this point, would be for nothing.

So lost in his thoughts, the knock at his office door took him by surprise.

Secreting the folder back in his desk drawer, he placed the key back in his pocket and called out.

"Come in."

"Horatio, are you ok?" Calleigh asked, placing a hand on his cheek, concern evident in her voice.

He opened his mouth to say something before shutting it again.

She was growing concerned at the blank look on his face.

The hospital staff had reassured her that, with time and rest, Horatio's injuries were all well on their way to healing. They were no longer concerned about the effects of the skull fracture and were satisfied that his damaged kidney had been able to repair itself without surgical intervention.

She suddenly worried that he was having some sort of relapse.

"Horatio, talk to me. You're starting to scare me."

He was looking at her, but his eyes seemed dazed and unfocused.

Finally, the soulful blue eyes cleared.

He spoke quietly.

"Can you pinch me, please?"

"Why?" she asked, thrown by the question.

"I've got this funny feeling that I'm dreaming," he replied, looking intently at her. "And if so, I'm not sure I ever want to wake up."

He smiled at her.

She thought of a more appropriate way to convince him. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his lips, holding his face gently in her hands.

This is was it.

It had all come down to this.

Opening the door, he'd not been surprised to see the other man there. Neither did he miss the look the Hispanic drug dealers gave him as he made his way inside.

"You brought a white boy with you?" one of them said, grinning.

He'd already taken a dislike to them and wanted nothing more than to punch the shit-eating grins off their faces.

Deal or not, he had no time for punks like this.

"It doesn't matter what colour he is. The man knows how to do his job."

He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. The man he'd thought he knew could still surprise him, even now.

"This is a big deal we're talking about. You sure you got the stones to handle this?"

"Look, are we gonna stand here measuring our dicks all day or are we gonna talk business?" he said, feeling his temper get the better of him.

He caught the warning look and was surprised when one of the Mala Noche men let out a laugh.

"White boy thinks he's got game, don't you?"

"Why don't you come over here and find out?" he shot back.

He had to prove his worth to these men, otherwise everything he'd worked for would come to nothing.

He saw one of the men approach him, feeling his stomach drop painfully. He refused to be cowed as the man stalked toward him, trying to intimidate him.

He felt a pat on his shoulder. "I think we're gonna have a very successful working partnership here. What do you say, white boy?"

The relief washed over him in waves.

This was it.

He'd achieved what he'd set out to do so long ago.

All the pain, all the risks that he'd taken and the sacrifices he'd made had come to this.

He knew his name and reputation were been ruined beyond repair. He would forever be known as a liar and a cheat. Perhaps they would never truly understand the reasons behind his actions. They would never know the threat that had been hanging over all of them for so long.

His 'companion' had made it clear that, if he pulled out before today, those he cared for the most would be in danger. The Mala Noche would know he was the one to blame if their criminal empire were to crumble around them.

His companion would see to it personally.

He'd had no choice but to do as he was told, as much as it ate at him to do so. He'd known the risks at the start, but it shocked him at just how deep he was in this now. He was in over his head. Although he could live with the thought of being killed for the cause, he couldn't risk the lives of those he loved.

He'd always clung to the hope that he would one day be able to make it right with them. He would need to keep that thought close as he once more took a step into the shadows. Hoping that, this time, he would come out the other side and back into the light.

Taking a deep breath, Raymond Caine shook the hand of the man before him.

"When do we start?"

And that's it, folks!

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review this story. Your support and encouragement is always very much appreciated. I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I did writing it. I hope that I managed to keep you all guessing as to who 'mystery man' really was :)

I have deliberately left some threads of the story unanswered and will consider a sequel of sorts if enough folks are interested in reading it (leave a review or drop me a PM - a writer loves to hear what readers think!)