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Two Weeks In Miami	By : blackbear355 Category: 1 through F > CSI: Miami Views: 1436 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI MIAMI or any of it's characters. I do not make any money from writing this story. I do not own the character of MacGyver. The characters of Julie and her family belong to me.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER SEVEN
March 29, 1995 (Wednesday)

JULIE'S SEVENTH DAY IN MIAMI

CONCUSSION AND A CAST
Horatio lay with his arm around Julie, watching her sleep. Her back was to him, and he was listening to her steady breathing. There was a troubled look on her face, and he thought he could see dried tear streaks on her cheeks. He kissed her awake, and she frowned, the furrow appearing above her right eye. Then, she smiled up at him, gently whispered his name, and stroked his face slowly, giving him her curious, deep look.
"Sweetheart, you've been crying." He gently wiped her lashes and her cheeks.
She said nothing, just snuggled closer into his neck.
"Honey, does this have anything to do with last night? My teasing about getting clipped?" It hurt him to see her unhappy, and it bothered him to think that he was the cause of it.
"Well, it might."
"Sweetheart--I've been intact my whole life, and I can assure you, I am not gonnu do anything now. Especially after what you told me last night. About how you feel about it. Okay, babe?"
No answer from her.
"I just wish you'd tell me why you feel that way."
"It--is personal. You are not the only one with secrets."
She shifted her position to lay on her back, with his arm around her, and her head on his shoulder, and she took his other hand and caressed it as they lay there, and he breathed in her essence, her very presence, and was happy with the fact that she was here because she wanted to be with him.
He looked at his watch, and realized he had to get ready for work. He wondered what she was going to do today, and she told him, as he got dressed, that she didn't yet know what she would be doing. Maybe she would find a haunted house. He suggested she try the Miami Science Museum. She promised him a home-cooked meal this evening, if he came home in time. He promised he would try. He went to the kitchen to make his morning cup of coffee, and to eat some toast.
By the time he had to leave for work, she had gone back to sleep. She was not aware of his kisses to her lips before he left. She woke up an hour later, brushed her teeth, and dressed. She took some pain-killers for her aching tooth, and thought about doing a load of laundry this evening.
She ate breakfast and decided to take his advice, and go to see the Miami Science Museum. She spent some delightful time at the museum, and wanted to see the entire museum, but her leg was giving her some trouble, so she hobbled onto the bus at lunchtime, and rode back to the apartment. She went to bed for awhile to sleep, and when she awoke, she had a severe headache.

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At about 4:00, she got up and limped into the kitchen to start dinner. Her leg was feeling better, and she took a couple of Ibupropen for her headache. Her tooth was giving her a respite, and she was grateful for that. She was looking forward to welcoming Horatio home from work.
At the police department, Horatio was still trying to put the finishing touches on the plastique explosive case he was working on. Investigative evidence had shown that the suspect was ex-military, and had a library of knowledge on C4 explosives--but then, so did Horatio. The suspect also left behind evidence to show how stupid he really was--like the fingerprints and shoe tracks left on the window sill, deposited when he decided to jump from the window to the sloping roof, and then to the ground.
They were close to solving the crime of who had stolen the diamond necklace, but during the day, Horatio became involved in an argument with his boss over a piece of antiquated equipment in the lab. Words were exchanged about the new lab computers Horatio felt he needed, to improve the work load and take some of the stress off the detectives and other employees. The boss said Horatio just wanted some new 'toys' to play with. The equipment they had to work with had served them fine for twenty-five years, he argued. Horatio felt that they needed updated software, a new telescope, and a few pieces of equipment for the twentieth century, and if it required more money to be spent on modern supplies to help solve twentieth century crimes, then they should invest in the newer equipment. This was an argument Horatio had with the brass almost on a yearly basis.
Also, Horatio wanted to start a team, a highly-trained unit to specialize in on-the-scene crime investigations, and the brass refused to see the value in such an outfit. It just wasn't in the budget, the higher-ups argued.
After this long and very difficult day at work, Horatio came home, parked his car, went over to the mailbox to get his mail, and slouched toward the apartment. He was irritated, tired, and cranky, and his shoulders slumped. He had completely forgotten the home-cooked meal Julie had promised him. The wind was blowing, and when he opened the door to come into his apartment, a leaf took the liberty of blowing in with him.
Julie showed joy at his appearance, and hugged him when he came in the door, and tickled him a little on his side. He recoiled, and lifted her arms away.
"Piper, please--" he growled, with a peeved look.
"I am just happy to see you." She perceived immediately that he was in a foul mood, and she jumped back in surprise.
"I can understand that, but I just need some time alone. I can't deal with you right now--not right now--okay?"
"I'm--ss--sorry." She stammered an apology, backing toward the hallway.
"You do not want to see me?" Her voice wavered as she tried in vain to make eye contact with him.
"I never implied that," he said impatiently, not bothering to look at her.
"You do not want to deal with me." The realization suddenly hit her like a slap in the face, and she limped back down the hall to the bedroom, feeling very foolish for showing so much outward affection for him. Her face was flaming with remorse over her actions. She had assumed too much--taken too much for granted.
Horatio went into the kitchen to read his mail, then took some of it into the living room, where he lay it down on the recliner across from the sofa. He strode down the hall to the bathroom, then afterwards, walked back down the hall toward the living room.
Unbeknownst to him, when he was in the bathroom, Julie was slipping out of the apartment quietly, to get away from him for awhile. She wasn't sure about his reaction if she stayed in the apartment with him, as pissed off as he was, and she wanted to put as much distance between herself and him as possible. She was wondering how easy it might be to wait until he went to bed, then slip back in, quietly pack her suitcase, take her Care Bear, and go find a hotel.
Meanwhile, he had some time to cool his temper, and he slowly realized what he had done, and what he had said to her, and he felt like kicking himself. Now it was his turn to have the red creep up his cheeks.
"Oh, shit," he mumbled, as he stood before the sliding glass door, staring out at the patio.
"I'm sorry, honey," he whispered into the air, and with a guilty shake of his head, he headed toward the bedroom to apologize.
She was gone. He checked all through the apartment, and she was nowhere to be found. He went outside to the ledge, and looked around. Nothing. All he could do, was go back into the apartment and wait. Once again, she had eluded him. He was afraid he may have chased her away forever. Why, oh why, he wondered, did he always do this to the people he cared about?
He took a shower, and ate the now-cold meal alone. Still no Piper. He noticed her teddy bear was gone from the sofa, and his heart skipped a beat. On an impulse, he went to the bedroom, to see if her suitcase was still there. It was, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Her bear was perched on her pillow, regarding him with a silent stare--rather accusingly, he thought.
Horatio was sitting on the couch, holding Julie's Care Bear and watching television, when he heard the front door open. She came into the foyer, past the kitchen and living room, and turned the corner, limping down the hall toward the bedroom. He called to her, twice, and he knew she heard him, but she did not respond.
Leaving the bear on the couch, he stood up and walked down the hall, feeling hurt that she was ignoring him. Which was exactly what he had done to her, he realized with a guilty pang.
She was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking into the mirror.
Once again he spoke. "Piper." It was as though he were alone in the room. His heart fell to his shoes.
She was examining the bruise on her forehead, but there was one on the left side of her neck that she didn't know she had--until about an hour ago. A hickey. He had given it to her, but when, she didn't know. It must have been yesterday morning, she concluded, or maybe the evening before.
She stared at it, transfixed. She wasn't at all sure she liked it. She had mixed feelings about it.
He stood behind her, looking into the mirror over her shoulder. He was dejected, and afraid he had driven her away with his behavior toward her. He didn't know what to say or do.
She appeared not to notice him, as she fingered the bruise on her neck.
"Ow." It hurt when she touched it with her finger.
"Piper, I--" He didn't know what to say.
She poked it again, in disbelief. "I did not know that vampirism was one of your talents." Her voice was flat and cold.
"Didn't anyone ever give you a hickey before?" He asked the back of her head.
"Not without my permission, and I do not recall giving it to you." She didn't really sound too angry, just a little defensive.
His eyes wandered away, sheepishly.
She looked at him in the mirror, but he got no smile, just an icy stare that made him shiver.
She turned, brushed past him, and with her stiff-legged gait, went into the bedroom. She lay down on her back on the bed, holding her magazine up in front of her.
For a few minutes, he just stood in the bathroom, looking at the floor, at the sink, his hands, his shoes, wondering what he should do next.
By the time he had followed her into the bedroom, she had changed into her nightgown.
"The dinner was good, sweetheart," he told her. "I liked it. Thank you."
She didn't respond.
"You should eat some, honey."
"No, I am not hungry." Her voice seemed small, and far away.
She went to bed. She did not try to hug him, or talk to him. She left him alone.
He begged her, "Piper, please--talk to me."
He went down on one knee. "Sweetheart--I am really sorry."
He reached for her, his arm around her stomach. She yelped. He raised his arm, startled.
She lifted up her nightgown, and they stared at her stomach. Above her belly button was a large bruise, very sensitive. He wondered how she got that bruise. She turned her back on him. She didn't know how she got it; perhaps from her fall into the fountain.
He rose, walked around the bed to the other side, and sat down on the bed. He looked at her forehead bruise, her hickey, her injured leg, and her stomach bruise. Instinctively, he began to think that maybe there was more to this than just her being angry with him.
"Sweetheart," he begged. "I wish you would tell me what's wrong."
"I--I do not feel well," she admitted. "I--I feel dizzy, and I'm so tired. And my headache won't go away."
He took a closer look at her. She was unresponsive. Her pupils were dilated. She was having trouble focusing on what he was saying. He thought she might have a concussion.
He gathered up her clothes, and told her to get dressed.
"Why? Do you have to go to work?"
"No."
"Are we going to the beach?" She sounded confused.
"No. I'm taking you to the hospital, to get you checked out."
She knew it was futile to argue with him.
He helped her get dressed, he put her into his car, and off they went.
At the hospital, she checked in at the emergency desk, and they waited about fifteen minutes before they were called into a room. He was alarmed by her demeanor; her eyes were blank and staring, and her face was too pale. She wasn't herself.
She wanted Horatio to go in with her, so he accompanied her into the examination room. She changed into a ridiculous-looking paper gown with a tie in the front, and she perched on the edge of the exam table, while Horatio sat in the chair facing her.
He whispered to her quietly, holding her socked foot in his warm hands.
She tried to focus on him, but her eyes refused to stay open, and her face scrunched up as though she would cry at any moment. Her headache threatened to split her head open. She was very nauseous. Her hands rubbed her temples.
The attending nurse came in, and after greeting the two, set about taking her temperature and blood pressure while she sat on the table.
The nurse asked her some questions to attempt to determine what was wrong.
"What is three times three?"
"Nine."
"What day is it?"
"Mm--Wend--Wednesday."
"Who is the president?"
"Of what?"
"Of the United States."
"Clinton."
Julie's answers were slow and guarded, as though she were having difficulty with cognition.
The nurse curtly told Julie and Horatio that the doctor would be in shortly, and then she left the room.
After a few minutes, the doctor came in, and with a business-like greeting, had Julie lie down on the exam table, and he poked and prodded at her, until she wanted to grab him around the neck and squeeze. During this examination, he had to have noticed the burn scar on her lower back, as well as the fish skeleton-shaped scar on her outer right thigh, but he said nothing, and asked no questions about them. Had he asked, she would have told him how she acquired them.
They talked about how she got the bruise on her head, and the one on her stomach, and she had to give the account of how she had been knocked into the fountain pool.
He told her to sit up again, and she did so, arranging her paper gown in front of her.
He shined a light in her eyes, which irritated her further, and asked her and Horatio a few additional questions.
"How long have you had this headache?"
"About--a day." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, then opened them again.
"How far did you fall into the fountain?"
"About--five feet, I think."
"Are you pregnant?"
Julie began to nod her head, them paused, and answered, "No."
"Have you had unprotected sex?"
Horatio was quicker to answer. "Yes, she has."
Julie glared at him, astonished that he would tell anyone that.
"Have you had multiple sexual partners?"
"No. Just him." She pointed her head at Horatio.
"Did you hit her?" The doctor looked at Julie, even though the question was for Horatio.
"Absolutely not."
It was plain to both that the doctor doubted Julie's story of how she was knocked into the fountain.
With her head taken care of, the doctor turned his attention to Julie's leg. She told him the leg was quite painful, and she had to repeat her story, yet again, of how she had fallen into the pool.

The doctor wanted to x-ray the leg, so Horatio waited in the examination room until she returned from x-ray. Then, the doctor talked to both of them. The x-ray was showing that she had a hairline fracture of the right femur. The fracture was not new, having been sustained, apparently, a couple of weeks before now.
Throughout the examination, Horatio harbored the sick feeling that the doctor suspected him of inflicting these injuries on Julie, and it made him angry, although he successfully suppressed his feelings. Right now, she was all that mattered.
Julie couldn't seem to remember how this had happened. The bone had healed, and calcified--this was evident on the x-ray. Julie and Horatio studied the image closely. The doctor thought that what she had now was a pulled muscle, from the force of the bicycle hitting her, and maybe from the impact of hitting the pool floor.
The doctor wanted to put a cast on her leg. Julie was aghast. A cast! To stabilize it, he said, and assist the pulled muscle to heal by compression. To hold it steady for about two weeks, until she could get back up to Connecticut, and see her regular doctor.
The doctor prescribed some medication, and to tide her over, she was given a small zip lock baggie of pills until she could get to a pharmacy. The pills were to help with her headache, relax the muscles, and to reduce inflamation.
The doctor explained that what she had sustained was between a Grade One and a Grade Two injury, whereby the muscle had been severely pulled, and a number of the muscle fibers had been stretched. This was causing the tenderness, and some swelling, but no external bruising. She had lost some strength in the leg, and he wanted her to refrain from using it as much as possible for a few days. The cast would help with that.
Horatio had to wait while Julie was taken to another room, where she could be fitted for the cast.
So a fiberglass cast was made for her, and placed around her leg. The cast was extended from her upper thigh to just above the knee. The doctor also told her again that he wanted her to stay off of the leg for a few days, and keep the leg elevated as much as she could.
Horatio was in the waiting room, reading a magazine, and leaning against the wall. The door to the waiting room opened, and in came Julie, using crutches that were provided by the hospital. She hobbled over to Horatio, frowning. He threw down the magazine and helped her out to his car, although she didn't want any help. She refused to speak to anybody.

Back in his car, he drove home. She was silent, and distant. It was 3:00 AM. She hobbled down the garden-level steps, and into the apartment. He hung back a little. Julie was not her happy, peppy self.
Julie frowned, muttering. "Boy! Some vacation this has turned out to be!" She threw her clothes into a corner, and her crutches down beside the bed. "I should have stayed home!"
He reminded her, she wouldn't have found that fracture of her femur if she hadn't come to Florida. And I wouldn't have found you, he thought to himself.
He examined her cast. It was a lovely blue color, and very well-made.
He was perplexed about something else, though. Nothing had been openly said at the hospital, but he had the distinct feeling that the medical staff suspected him of abusing his girlfriend. This disturbed him deeply.
They went back to bed.
Julie turned away from him. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, until she fell asleep.
He lay in the dark, thinking. I can't let her turn away from me like this. I don't know what to do. Have I screwed up? I love her. I've only known her for seven days, but this is THE ONE. I want her for my wife, but now she won't even talk to me. He fell into a troubled sleep.
They both had a restless night. She tossed and turned. She tried to wrap herself all over him, couldn't get comfortable. Her cast bumped into him. She dug her toenail into his calf, but he didn't know it until later, when he rubbed it on the sheet, and he felt the pain. For the rest of the night, he kept a wary eye on her feet, particularly her toenails.

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN
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- 8
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Two Weeks In Miami