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

Dear Diary...

August 02 1992

Diary, my shrink gave you to me today. He seems to think that writing my thoughts down in you is going to stop the nightmares I've been having.

It's bullshit! Spilling my inner thoughts and fears to a bunch of pages bound together is not going to make me feel any better.

Nightmares are best left forgotten; remembering them only makes them stay around for longer, so there's no point in putting yourself through more pain than necessary.

There! I've written my entry for today; no one can complain at me now. Night.

August 03 1992

It's 2.30am. I knew this diary thing wasn't going to work.

I had another nightmare again; the third one this week and it's only Wednesday.

The dream was no different from every other dream I've had.

I'm locked inside this tiny room. There are no windows and it's dark because the only light is coming from the little night light in the corner. I can feel the walls closing in on me. I'm sitting in the centre of the room, with my legs curled to my chest and trying to stop myself from hyperventilating.

So, you're supposed to tell me what my dream means? I know what it means; I'm claustrophobic, it doesn't take a genius – or a diary - to work that out.

My eyes are burning. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep without a nightmare. I'll write something tonight… maybe.

August 03 1992 – 11.00pm

Remembering to write in this thing is easier than I thought! Doesn't mean I understand why or how it's supposed to help me though.

It's been three months to the day since my wrist was broken beyond repair… well, maybe not beyond repair. I'll just never be able to play baseball professionally. Which means that I'm going to have to think of something else to do with my life. Do you have any suggestions?

I was at the park earlier with Jamie and Matt; not doing much, just chilling against the swings having a smoke. School's out for the summer so it's not like we have anything better to do.

I've lived here all my life and know everything in my neighborhood; everyone knows everyone. So when someone new appears suddenly, it's big news.

He's tall and very thin; but not too thin that his clothes don't fit him. His hair is such a dark shade of brown that it looks black. I wonder what color his eyes are.

I don't know what his name is either, but I'll find out soon enough; one way or another.

August 6 1992

Haven't had any nightmares in two days.

Haven't seen Him since. I wonder where he is.

August 10 1992

His name is Speed!

Okay… that's probably just a nickname; but at least it's a start.

You're wondering how I know, right?

Matt found out from his sister Liz, who heard from her best friend Julia who saw him at the preschool her baby sister goes to. He takes his little brother Joshua to the same school and she heard him shout 'Speed!' and run over to him.

He's the same guy I saw in the park; I know it is.

What do you think his real name is?

September 15 1992

The Shrink's bitching at me for not using you more often.

It's not my fault I had to go into hospital for a week and couldn't write for another two. I forgot about you after that!

I'm sick of my wrist hurting. The Physiotherapist tells me I have to keep exercising it, otherwise it'll stop working properly – or something.

But what's the point? The only time I put strain on it was when I was playing baseball… and I'm not allowed to do that anymore, so I can't fuck it up any more can I?

Speed's real name is Tim Speedle. I thought his nickname was something to do with his last name, but a few days ago I saw him go past on a motorcycle.

Rumor has it he lives three blocks away and the mall is in the opposite direction. So what was he doing around here?

September 18 1992

I saw Speed again. He was outside the mall, leaning on his bike and smoking.

I don't know how long he'd been there, but he left as soon as I did.

Fucking weirdo!

September 21 1992

Speed's following me! There's no other explanation for it. Every time I turn around he's there, right behind me.

What the hell does he want?

September 31 1992

He. Kissed. Me!

Yeah, you read right. He kissed me! Right on the mouth as well. No warning, just… bam, kissed me!

He didn't say anything, just kissed me, jumped on his bike and left.

Why did he do it? Why can't I stop thinking about him?

I wonder if the rest of him is as soft as his lips.

October 1 1992

I can't believe I wrote that! Where the hell did it come from? He's a guy!

Oh, man… this is fucked up!

November 30 1992

I'm going crazy! I haven't seen Speed for over a month. Not in class; at the park, anywhere!

It's like he's disappeared off the face of the Earth.

I hope he's okay.

December 5 1992

He was on vacation with his parents in Italy. How do I know? He told me…

Right before I kissed him!

Can you believe it? I kissed him and he kissed me back!

We're going to the movies next weekend. I can't wait!

What the fuck am I gonna wear?

December 13 1992

We couldn't go to the movies yesterday!

They're fumigating, or something because it was closed and we had to find something else to do.

We drove over to the park to watch one of those drive-in-movies. The movie was shit but… we didn't watch it for very long anyway!

Would you believe I lost my virginity in the back of my car at a drive-in? And to a guy no less?

It hurt like hell! Almost as much as my arm did when I broke it. I don't think I'll be doing that again any time soon. I can still feel him whenever I move though, which is kind of cool.

The rest of him is as smooth as his lips, by the way.

December 15 1992

I know I said I wasn't going to have sex again any time soon? I lied. We did it again yesterday. We were at his house this time though; and it was so much comfier than the car.

It didn't hurt as much this time. Don't get me wrong, it did hurt but only for a few moments.

He feels so good inside me. I can't wait to be inside him as well.

August 21 1993

I know it's been a long time since I wrote in you, but I haven't really had chance to. I left school in May and in September I'll be starting at the Police Academy.

It took me a long time to figure out what to do with my life after baseball. I don't know if I'm cut out to be a cop, but if I don't try I know I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have made it.

Pops wasn't happy when I told him what I wanted to do. There were always cops around home, trying to dig up some kind of dirt on him and his business. But they never found anything and they never will; he's too smart for that.

Speed left New York today; that's why I dug you out again. He said he couldn't take living here anymore, that it wasn't where he belonged and he needed to find his own place in the world.

I don't know where he's going; or even what he going to do once he gets there. I don't think he even knows himself, actually.

I can sort of see what he needs though. It's hard to be yourself and stand out in a city so big. I would love to leave with him; just get on the back of his bike, wrap my arms around him and drive off into the sunset together.

But New York is who I am; it's in my blood. I don't think I'd be able to survive anywhere else.

The nightmares are going to come back again, I know they are. I've had about three really bad ones since I was given this diary over a year ago. But now that Speed's gone, I don't think I'll able to sleep a full night without waking up because I miss him.

Surprisingly, I don't hate him for wanting to get away from all this; wanting to leave the city… college… me. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt that I can't be his reason for staying.

He said he's going to call me whenever he stops for the night, or whatever. I think he will. I trust him.

May 19 2004

I can't believe it's been ten years since I dug you out of storage!

Reading back over the first entries in this thing is enough to make any guy blush with embarrassment. I'm actually tempted to burn you just in case someone finds this and uses it against me.

I know finding out you're gay is going to shock to the best of people, but reading those entries is liking reading the diary of a pink-loving teenage girl whose just experienced her first crush. I swear if I sounded like that in real life, I'm going to sail to a desert island and pretend there's just me in the whole world.

In my defense, Tim was more than a stupid High School crush. How many High School crushes can still make you weak at the knees ten years later?

You'll notice that he's gone from being 'Speed' to 'Tim'. Speed was that motorcycle-riding college student I first met. Granted, he still rides a motorcycle but he isn't the awkward student anymore.

The year he spent away from everyone did him wonders. When he came back to New York to finish his degree, he was more comfortable in himself and his abilities. I swear the reunion sex we had then is definitely up there with the best experiences of my life.

He works and lives in Miami, but we still talk and have phone sex often. Not to mention real sex whenever we can find time to be together, which is always good.

I miss him a lot, I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But when he talks about Miami, Horatio and everyone else he works with, I can tell he found his place and he belongs down there with them, not up here with all the dirt and grime of the city.

Maybe I'll see if Horatio needs another CSI. I always did like the sun and sea.

September 22 2004

Tim isn't answering his home phone or his cell. And he hasn't replied to any of my messages or voice mails.

God, I hope he's okay.

September 25 2004

I can't believe this. I know why he didn't answer or call me. He was in hospital fighting for his life.

He came to a few days ago and the nurses let him call me for five minutes. All he told me was that he was okay, but he was in hospital resting.

I swear I felt my heart stop in that moment. I've never felt so scared; not in the year we were apart did the thought cross my mind that I might actually lose him for good and he wouldn't be able to come back to me.

Needless to say I caught the next flight there was from New York to Miami to see him; I needed to prove to myself that he was okay.

Of course, this is Tim Speedle we're talking about and he's always played down injuries, so he wasn't okay at all. It's the attention and the fuss that bothers him; he hates it when he can't take care of himself.

With a bullet wound in his shoulder, taking care of himself is the last thing he should be doing. Mostly the bullet damaged the muscles and tissue of his shoulder, but he told me the doctors thought his lung might have collapsed at one point.

I've been sitting next to his bed, talking and laughing like always. I can't think of anything to do other than make him forget that he's in pain and won't be able to get back into the field for a long time while he recovers.

There is something I haven't told him yet; only because he's going to kill me when he finds out.

I've spoken to Horatio about it and when Tim gets out of hospital, I'm staying in Miami. I know that seems like a rash decision but Tim won't be able to use his arm for a while and he's going to be in pain for even longer.

Plus, did I mention I always did like the sun and sea?