Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:Miami or NY.

Runaway

I don't know why I'm surprised that he ran; that's what he does best.

Standing up and facing his demons isn't who he is; he never has been and I have a feeling he never will be that person.

Running from your fears and nightmares is easier than admitting to both yourself and others. I know that as much as the next person.

Hell, there are skeletons in my closet that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy.

His secrets are as dark and sinister as mine; both of us have done things that we wish we hadn't and said things we wish we hadn't even thought.

But for some strange it kept us together; that sick connection between us seemed to be the glue in our relationship. If you could call it that.

A relationship means trust and honesty between two people. I don't think we were ever honest with each other.

Even back when we went to Columbia there was always some degree of secrecy. Something that we kept hidden from the other for no explainable reason.

It was how we functioned; we worked that way. Neither of us got hurt by the other's history and neither of us knew more than we needed or wanted to.

The first time he ran I knew I could have said something to make him stay; a little lie that would have been soothing to the soul but had no real meaning.

The words would have a pointless waste of breath though. We both knew that neither of us had any real feeling for each other. What we had was purely physical; something to do when we were bored.

Months and years passed and with each change of the seasons I found myself thinking about him less and less. Eventually I could barely remember what he looked like, or even what his voice had sounded like.

Then my phone rang at work and all the memories came rushing back; like a gateway had been opened just by hearing that voice which had deepened over the years but still remained unmistakable.

We started our relationship back up almost without realising to. It wasn't long before we were exchanging x-rated emails and phone calls.

Things seemed to be as they had been before. But it was almost too identical, there were still no feelings.

When we got together the only thing we had was just pure, unadulterated sex.

There was chemistry between us but the spark to set us on fire was missing and I knew that this time I was going to be the one that had to leave him standing in my dust.

I've changed since I was a teenager; I'll be the first to admit it. Having meaningless sex wasn't something that interested me anymore.

Yeah, he's hot, but I wanted more. Something inside of me was screaming, telling me to find that one person I could wake up next to on a morning and consider calling in sick just to be with.

That's not what he wanted, he made that very clear. What we had was just a fucked up way to release some pent-up energy.

This time it was me kicking the stand off my motorcycle and tearing off into the sunset, heading back to Miami.