CRASH

PART 2 – GOING HOME

"I'm here to see Horatio Caine." Eric had taken a late evening flight and checked into a hotel in the early hours. He had managed a few hours' sleep before going to the hospital.

"Are you a relative, Sir?"

"Brother-in-law." He was ready to make a fight of it, but thought he'd better not say 'brother'. No one would believe the red-headed former New Yorker and the olive-skinned Cuban were related by blood.

The nurse handed him a form. "Do you think you could get this filled in for us? We only collected the bare minimum yesterday. It's just patient details."

"See what I can do."

A doctor came up to him. "Did you say Horatio Caine? I'll take you to him…"

"How is he?"

"Not bad, considering he's just survived a plane crash. Dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone, cuts and bruises… Concussion, but no sign of brain injury. He had a good night's sleep." He indicated a door. "He's lightly sedated, so you may find him a bit woozy."

Eric went quietly into the room. Horatio lay with his eyes closed. Eric was mildly shocked at his boss's pallor, but, apart from his left arm being strapped across his chest, he didn't look too bad. He supposed other injuries were hidden by the bed sheet. He went over and sat down.

Horatio opened his eyes. His surprise was obvious. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing. You know," Eric joked. "How are you?"

"Glad to see you. I was going to call you today… but I've got no cell, no money, nothing…"

"We'll sort all that out. Oh H… You don't know what we went through yesterday…"

"I could probably rival it," Horatio murmured wryly.

"Yes, of course you could. Sorry. Do you hurt? The doctor told me about your injuries…"

"They're nothing much. They want to keep an eye on the concussion, otherwise I'd be thinking about getting out. Although… I've got no clothes either."

"I'll see about that too."

"I'm so glad you're here. I just felt completely… isolated. Silly really, but… strange city, no one I knew… and everything gone…" He sounded heart-wrenchingly unsure of himself, and Eric thought there was a faint tremor in the voice.

"Everything except your life," Eric said softly, putting a hand lightly on his uninjured shoulder. "We got news of the crash… We didn't even know if you were on that plane…"

"How did you find out?"

"Threw our weight around a bit and got the passenger list. Then…" He hesitated. "Well… I know you always travel in Business… and…" He stopped, wondering if he should even be discussing it with Horatio.

"You thought I was dead."

"Yes. What were you doing at the back of the plane?"

Horatio chuckled. "Pure luck. They messed up my booking, and Business was full. I was offered a later flight. I wish to God I'd taken it." His expression became serious. "Did they find any more survivors?"

"Three, I believe, but one died."

"Did it… catch on fire immediately?"

"I don't know, H. I don't think they know yet."

"NTSB wants to talk to me, well, to all of us, this afternoon. Not that I know anything… I think I was asleep."

"No emergency called?"

"No. I'd have heard. I don't sleep deeply on planes. But one of the stewards survived. He'll know if anything happened." He winced slightly, and rubbed his shoulder.

"You in pain?"

"Not really. Just uncomfortable. I'm okay."

Eric nodded. "I've got a form to fill in for you…" He took out a pen. "Height… six foot? Weight… what do you weigh?"

"I haven't the faintest."

"I'll make it up. Operations? Allergies?"

It didn't take long, with some answers from Horatio, and a little creativity from Eric. "Just put 'none' to everything else," Horatio murmured. "No one's going to check."

Eric put the form to one side. "So what do you need? Everything, I suppose…"

"Can I use your cell? I need to call the bank. I'll see if they can transfer some money to you."

"You don't need. You can pay me back later."

"And I need to tell them my credit cards are missing…"

Eric took out his cell phone and handed it to his boss. "Do you fancy calling Calleigh? She's desperate to hear you're all right…"

"I could do that. Give me your bank details first…"

Eric had to smile at Horatio taking charge. He was fairly sure he should be resting, but knew the man well enough to recognise that he wouldn't relax without sorting out his life a little. A little normality might even be good for him.

"I'll leave you to it for five minutes. Do you want a coffee?"

"A proper coffee… Not from the machine."

"You got it."

It took Eric ten minutes to find a decent coffee shop. When he came back, he was struck again by how pale and exhausted his boss looked.

"You look so tired…" he murmured.

"I am. As soon as I do anything, or try to concentrate, my head swims."

"Well, you're sedated, and concussed. Not surprising. Did you speak to Calleigh?"

Horatio smiled. "I think I gave her the fright of her life. She was expecting you." He added ruefully. "She burst into tears."

Eric chuckled. "So she was happy to hear you then. Here… coffee… Can you sit up a bit?"

"There'll be a thousand in your bank account within the hour…"

Eric nodded. No use arguing. Anyway, he could be paying for plane tickets or car rental soon. They sat in silence, sipping the coffee.

"So what do you want? Some clothes – casual, I presume."

"Just jeans and a sweatshirt or something. And underwear – I've got absolutely nothing. I need shoes, but it could be a problem."

"Why?"

"My feet are a bit of a mess." He pulled the bed sheets away to reveal the damage.

"Wow – they said some cuts and bruises…" Eric looked at the bandaged right leg and the dressings on both feet. "How much damage under there? I mean, can you walk?"

"'Course I can. I've got a gash on my leg that had to be stitched – got that in the crash. But I lost my shoes somewhere, so my feet got a bit cut about."

"Have you tried walking?" Eric said doubtfully.

"With help. As far as the bathroom. It's sore but manageable."

"Well, if I get you some trainers or something, say, half a size too big…"

"That'll do. And a new cell phone. Toiletries. Anything else you think of. And a bit of cash – I hate not having anything. Keep track of what you're spending."

"Will do."

"Do," Horatio said firmly. "It'll all be part of an insurance claim…"

There was a brief knock and a nurse came in. "Mr Caine! What's the use of sedation, if you're going to fill up on caffeine?"

Eric grinned. "My fault, sorry."

Horatio said innocently, "I live on coffee… I was missing it."

"All right, but not too much. Can I just check you?" She took his temperature, checked his pulse. "How's your head?"

Horatio gave a sort of one-shouldered shrug. "Aching a bit."

"You know coffee won't help. Do you need pain relief?"

"No, I'm okay."

"And I'm just going," Eric added. "So you can sleep."

The nurse went out, shaking her head.

"I am going. I'll go and do some shopping for you. I'll be back this evening. Get some rest." He turned to go, trying to ignore the sudden bleakness in the blue eyes.

Eric spent the day shopping. Not something he particularly enjoyed, but he was glad enough to be doing something for his injured boss. An astute CSI, he found he had unconsciously stored all sorts of detail – like Horatio's shoe size, the style of underwear he preferred, what sort of wallet he used. He felt vaguely disconcerted that he knew so much, but put it down to his job, which inevitably meant an eye for detail.

Over a late lunch, he phoned Calleigh. "How you doing?"

"Well, I've got over the shock…"

Eric laughed. "Horatio, huh?"

"It was your phone… And then his voice…"

"How did he sound to you?"

"Far too perky for someone who's lived through a plane crash. Was he putting it on? Is he badly hurt?"

"Not too badly." He repeated details of Horatio's injuries. "But I think he's much more shaken than he says. 'Perky' he is not."

"That's understandable. Take care of him, Eric."

"Would I do anything else? I'll let you know what's happening as soon as I know. Okay?"

It was late afternoon when he headed back to the hospital. Horatio was awake. Eric noted he still had that strange, rather lost, look about him.

"Hi, boss, how is it?"

"Okay, I suppose. I'm so stiff… I feel as if I ran into a brick wall."

"That's not surprising. Have you been out of bed yet?"

"Briefly." There was a weak smile. "Not good."

"Give it time."

"Yeah…" He seemed to pull himself together. "Don't listen to me. You know how I hate being out of action. Have you spent all my money?"

"Not quite." He noticed a basket of fruit on the locker. "Have you got an admirer?"

"From the airline."

"Hardly compensation. Still, it's a nice thought, I suppose." Eric leant over and pulled off a few grapes. "Want some?"

Horatio shook his head, and winced. Then he reached over and picked up a small folder. "And this…"

Eric read the contents. "Wow… free First Class travel…"

"They're obviously keen to keep their customers. Still, we'll be comfortable going home."

It was as good a moment as any to ask… "You happy to fly again?" He expected an indignant affirmative.

Horatio hesitated. "I think so. Logically, of course, it isn't going to happen again. How I'll be once I get on board…"

"Give it a few days and see how you feel. We could always drive."

"It would take ages."

Eric shrugged. "So? Long road trip… I don't mind driving."

"No. I've got to be able to get on a plane when I need to. It's like getting back on the horse – got to do it."

"Don't decide now. You're still pretty sick."

"I'm not sick. Just a bit knocked about. So what did you buy?"

Eric laid out his purchases, and Horatio nodded his approval.

"Is it okay?" Eric was anxious. Their tastes were hardly the same.

"Of course. Thank you." He hesitated. "Sunglasses?"

"Damn, I forgot!" Eric picked up the new cell phone. "I've put a few numbers on it… though I don't think our contact lists overlap much. But the lab's on there, me and Calleigh… PD's direct number - if you want to speak to Frank…"

"You're good to me."

"I know." Eric packed the few clothes he had bought into a small holdall, everything except the phone and wallet. "I've put fifty dollars cash in here. Is that enough?"

At Horatio's nod, he put the items into the locker.

"What else can I do for you? More coffee?"

"Better not. The nurse was right. It gave me a splitting headache." He pulled a face. "Eric, make me stop moaning! It all could have been so much worse."

"Moan if you want to. If it makes you feel better…"

"It doesn't. You know, I got off very lightly? I don't remember the crash at all, so I won't be having flashbacks or anything. Do you remember that Japanese air crash, where they knew for about an hour – everyone had time to write letters to their loved ones…? Thank God it wasn't like that."

Realising Horatio wanted to talk about it, Eric prompted him. "You don't remember anything then?"

"No. I was asleep. Next I knew, I came to in a wrecked aircraft. After that, it's a bit more vivid. Dead bodies… Body parts… Although, I suppose I'm probably more used to gruesome sights than most people. Sadly. Masses of luggage on the ground, spread over about five hundred yards… I suppose the hold must have burst open."

"What do they do with all that?"

"No idea. Collect it up, return it if they can, I suppose."

"So you might get your stuff back."

"I might. There's not much worth worrying about. A few favorites… leather jacket, my good camera… But nothing that can't be replaced really. The photos in the camera, of course." He looked suddenly at Eric. "I had a photo in my wallet…"

"Of your wedding day. I know." Eric hesitated. "I've got a pic of my sister on my cell. Do you want me to put it on yours?"

"Would you?"

Eric watched the desolate look fill his eyes again and wondered whether memories of his brief marriage, or the plane crash were causing it. He tried to break the mood. "I was told you helped rescue people."

"Helped. A bit, I suppose. It was Rob – the flight attendant - who did most. I couldn't stay conscious."

"No?"

"I was okay for a while, but I passed out… I think I lost a bit more blood than I realised."

"Do you remember being rescued?"

"Vaguely. I wasn't really compos mentis after that." Horatio sighed. "Nothing much till this morning.

At that moment, a nurse came in with a tray. "Dinner, Horatio. And don't give me the 'I'm not hungry' routine."

"It smells good," Eric said. "What is it?"

"Chicken in a tarragon sauce. Baby potatoes. String beans. And apple pie. Would you like some?"

"Is that allowed?"

"Not really, but we can bend the rules…"

"Then yes, please. Put it on his account," Eric said.

They ate dinner together. If Horatio wasn't hungry, he managed to hide it well.

"You know," Eric said, with his mouth full, "I don't remember hospital food being this good."

"Nor me. I suspect it's the airline pulling the strings again. It's a pity it takes a plane crash to produce first class service."

"That might not be true. I looked this place up on the web – it's got a great reputation."

"Hell, you've reminded me, I know what else I've lost! My laptop. It was in the overhead locker."

Eric said nothing. The nurse came back to clear the trays. She eyed the empty plates with approval, and smiled at Eric. "You're obviously good for him."

He sat with his brother-in-law for another hour or so. Horatio had fallen silent, and seemed to doze. It was nearly ten before Eric left for his hotel.

He pocketed an apple and an orange from the basket. "Back tomorrow. Hope you feel better…"

Eric spent a long time next day, searching for suitable sunglasses. He arrived at the hospital to find his boss sitting on the bed, dressed in sweatpants and t-shirt, reading a newspaper. He was barefoot, with only a few dressings on the soles. He looked up with a smile.

Eric returned it. "You look better."

"I feel it. Not so dizzy. I can read without feeling sick. Oh, and I managed a shower this morning."

"Without help?" Eric raised his eyebrows.

"More or less. They had to cover my leg… And I needed a bit of help to wash my hair." Eric would swear he blushed slightly. "And to get dressed."

"Nice nurse?"

"Very."

Eric chuckled. "Trust you. Bet you feel better for it."

"Too right." He indicated the newspaper. "They've got the plane's black boxes… but they're fire damaged, so they haven't opened them yet."

"So no idea of cause yet."

"Speculation… pilot error and/or freak weather phenomenon… Twenty survivors… and two of them are critical." He sounded very matter-of-fact, not nearly as shaky as the previous day.

"When are you getting out?"

"Tomorrow, we think."

"What do you want to do? Stay in San Francisco for a few days? Shall I book you a hotel room?"

Horatio looked up. "I want to go home…"

Eric nodded. "You want to go tomorrow?"

"I do. Sorry. Is that okay?"

"Of course it is. If you're up for it. Want me to arrange things?"

"No, I've got a special number to call."

"Okay. Let me know where I need to be and when. Here – I brought you a coffee…"

Eric spent the day at the hospital. He was amazed at the change in his boss. He seemed to be almost his old self, and much more alert. They experimented with the shoes Eric had bought. Coupled with thick sports socks, they were a good fit, and cushioned his damaged feet. Horatio tried a few steps. It was obviously painful, but he could certainly walk.

"The doc's not keen on this," he murmured. "He thinks I'll open up the cuts. But if I do, I do."

"Is he happy about you going home?"

"He doesn't get a choice," Horatio said mildly. "But yes, he says I'll be all right. I need to go to my own doctor to check my shoulder, and leg. I'm supposed to 'take it easy' for a week or two."

Eric laughed. "He doesn't know you, does he?"

"We'll see. I can hardly turn up at work like this, can I?"

"Shall we go outside – it's a beautiful day? And there's a wonderful view of the Golden Gate…"

"Don't know how far I can walk."

"I'll find a wheelchair." He noted his boss's expression, and added quickly. "Don't argue. You might as well be comfortable."

The two men travelled in near silence to the airport the following afternoon. Eric's single enquiry – 'How do you feel?' – was met with a fierce response of 'Fine'. So fierce, he didn't ask again. He was apprehensive. He knew Horatio was tough, mentally as well as physically. He was, nevertheless, going to board a plane within days of being in a serious plane crash. If he went into meltdown… Eric acknowledged to himself that it was unlikely. But Horatio's silence, and short-temper, spoke of his nervousness.

They were met at the airport by a stunningly attractive flight attendant, a brunette, nearly as tall, in her heels, as Horatio; standing out from the crowd in Virgin's scarlet uniform. She introduced herself as Lynda ('with a 'y'') and ushered them - well, ushered Horatio, Eric following – past check-in, past security, past the boarding gate, and onto the waiting plane. There, they were shown into the First Class cabin.

"Anything you want, gentlemen, just ask. We're on time. We should be taking off in about twenty minutes."

"I could get used to this," Eric murmured, sinking into the comfortable seat. "I've never flown First."

"Neither have I," Horatio admitted. "It's so expensive. Doesn't seem worth it for internal flights, and costs too much on long-haul."

They heard the thud of the door closing and the plane started to move, first backed off the stand by a tug, then taxiing under its own power. Eric glanced at Horatio.

"Don't keep watching me." Horatio had his eyes closed, so Eric had no idea how he knew.

"Sorry."

"I'm okay, you know."

"Good."

The plane waited at the end of the runway for a few minutes, its engines a low-pitched rumble. Then it began its take-off run. It was something Eric enjoyed; the increase in speed, the enormous power pushing him into the seat, then the nose lifting, and the reduction in noise as the wheels left the tarmac. He loved it, but he couldn't help glancing at Horatio again.

His eyes were open now. He looked at Eric and smiled. "Here we go…"

The seat-belt light went off and Horatio unbuckled and reclined the seat, reclined it almost to horizontal. He closed his eyes again.

Before long, they were served dinner and drinks, then, as they flew east, it grew dark outside, and the lights were dimmed. Taking advantage of the luxurious seats, they both dozed. Eric thought he'd been forever spoiled and would never want to travel in Economy again.

It was so comfortable, the flight went by quickly. He was surprised when the lights came up and he heard the engine note change. He pulled the seat more upright and glanced at Horatio, who was doing the same.

"You okay?"

Horatio nodded and looked up as Lynda appeared. "We're approaching Miami. Landing in about ten minutes."

Eric found himself surreptitiously watching his boss. Horatio looked nervous and tight-lipped. Of course… landing probably would be worst for him… Eric tried to think of something reassuring to say, but couldn't. The seat-belt sign came on and they put the seats upright. Eric leant over to help Horatio buckle the belt, then sat back and buckled his own.

He looked at his boss. "Nearly there…"

Horatio did not reply, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the arm rests. The lights of Miami appeared below them as the aircraft banked and turned. The engine note lowered. Eric was struck, as he always was, by the impression of the plane standing still. Horatio was staring straight ahead.

It was a perfect landing. The big plane seemed to touch down as lightly as a butterfly. As it slowed to taxiing speed, Horatio let out a long sigh.

He looked at Eric with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Sorry, I think I was holding my breath."

"Not surprised. You tired?"

"Yeah…"

"I expect the luscious Lynda will get us out quickly. You're home, boss."

THE END

Again, my apologies to Virgin America and Airbus Industries, both of which have impeccable safety records.