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The hot sun beating down on him was the first thing Sonny Crockett noticed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took in his surroundings. He was on a long stretch of beach. There was no one around as far as he could see, except for a pinprick in the distance that seemed like it might be a figure. He decided he had nothing better to do and headed towards it.
When Sonny got close enough, he saw that it was an older man, in his seventies maybe, sitting on a rickety-looking stool and fishing. It didn't look like an optimal spot to cast a reel, but to each their own.
"Hey, excuse me, old man," he began hesitantly.
The man turned his head, and Sonny froze. There was something so familiar in the eyes regarding him that he involuntarily took a step back.
The man also seemed to sense something. He squinted at Sonny. "Do I know you? You look real familiar."
"Yeah, you too." Sonny decided to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. He had an important question he needed answered. "Where are we?"
The man laughed. "Where are we?! Puerto Morelos! Want a beer?" he asked, grabbing one out of a cooler behind his chair and shaking off the ice water.
Sonny shrugged and accepted it. "Why not?" For want of anything approaching a plan, he dropped down onto the sand next to the old man's stool, crossing his legs. "How's the fishing?"
"Not bad. So, what brings you here? Vacation?"
"I…" When Sonny opened his mouth to speak, a wave of panic washed over him as he realized he had no idea why he was there or any memory of getting there. Memory issues were a touchy subject for the man who'd too recently forgotten his whole life.
And nearly killed his partner.
Still, that was something he wished he could forget. He inspected his head with his free hand, but found no bumps or signs of injury.
"Uh, not sure, actually," Sonny admitted.
The man laughed. "That's how I ended up here, too." He held out his hand. "I'm James."
"Sonny."
"Sonny. They used to call me that," James murmured wistfully.
The 'wrong' feeling in Sonny's stomach intensified, screaming at him to flee. He stayed put. Where was he gonna go? Besides, he figured if he couldn't remember his recent past, maybe asking questions of James would help him figure things out. "How'd you end up here, old man?"
"Quit my job. Bummed around with no direction for a while, until I got here. Then just… never left. Was never any point, I guess," James shrugged.
"What'd you do for a living?"
"I was a cop," James told him.
"I'm a cop," Sonny said almost involuntarily. The coincidences were piling up, and he'd never liked those.
"Don't let it destroy your soul, kid," James warned.
"I think it already has," Sonny found himself admitting. Luckily, his memory of his life and who he was seemed to be intact this time.
"I should have gotten out sooner. It's the regrets that'll haunt you, kid. Keep you up at night. Watch out for those. And there's going to be one – the one. That'll never leave you."
If Sonny was pressed to pick one regret, he wasn't sure which would come out on top. There were a lot of them. "What is your biggest regret?" he asked, interested in the answer despite himself. What did a man who'd lived his whole life view as his worst mistake?
James was momentarily distracted by struggling with a catch. Sonny watched as the man put up a valiant attempt, but in the end, the line went slack.
"It's always about the one that got away, kid," James intoned sagely, with a sadness pulling his mouth tight.
"I'm not a kid," Sonny finally protested.
"To me, you are."
"So, the one that got away?" Sonny grinned. "Who was she?"
James turned his body to meet Sonny's eyes with an intensity that was discomfiting, then seemed to make a decision and returned to contemplating the water. "He was my partner."
The feeling of fight-or-flight grew, but Sonny resisted it. "Oh." All he said, meanwhile, his thoughts were spinning.
"I don't understand why I let him walk away that day, even after all these years. Rico was the only good thing in my life. He was the other half of my soul."
At the mention of his partner's name, Sonny's body tensed with shock and a rush of adrenaline.
The old man, James, Sonny, continued the damming words. "I never told him how much I loved him. Why? At the end, there was no reason to keep silent. I was losing him anyway. Can you explain that to me?!"
Sonny shook his head in denial, unable to answer.
"At least he would have known… A few years later, he was killed in a shootout in—"
"No!" Sonny yelled, jumping up. "Shut up, old man! Shut up!"
"If only I had said something before it was too late…"
Sonny was done, couldn't bear to hear any more. He turned and ran back up the beach. Didn't stop even when his lungs were burning, and his legs felt like jelly. Not until he tripped over a piece of driftwood and his body pitched forward onto the sand…
"Jesus, Sonny!"
Sonny opened his eyes to the worried face of his partner, Ricardo Tubbs, who was on his knees on the floor beside him.
"Are you back with me, man?"
Sonny took a moment to let his heart rate get back to something approximating normal. Taking stock, he found himself sprawled on the floor of a warehouse, not on a beach. "What happened?" he rasped.
Relief washed over Rico's features, and his body visibly relaxed. "You got dosed."
Thankfully, Sonny's brain was quickly coming back online, his memory filling in the blanks. "Did those hippie rejects try to sell us LSD?!" Cocaine was the drug of choice in Miami, and the one Vice was interested in.
Rico nodded, his mouth turning slightly up in amusement, but still showing lingering worry. "They were real eager to show us how great their product was."
"I'm gonna kill them!" Sonny announced, struggling to sit up.
Rico helped support him as he managed to get upright and leaned against a convenient nearby barrel. "Are you okay?" Worry was back.
Sonny looked into Rico's face and suddenly remembered his… hallucination. A future meeting with a man he now realized was himself. Their eyes met reluctantly but inevitably. "I've been better, but I've been worse," he muttered, taking in his surroundings. "Did you call in the troops?" There was no one in the abandoned warehouse that he could see, just them.
Rico averted his eyes in discomfort. "Not exactly. After you hit the deck…"
"You let them get away?" he asked incredulously.
"We can bust them later. I promised if your 'trip' was good, we'd set up a big buy." Rico was being evasive. Sonny pinned him with a look that said so. "I didn't think you'd want anyone seeing you like that," Rico finally confessed.
There could be several reasons for Rico to spare him. Just the general issue of a cop getting high. Embarrassment; he'd probably never have heard the end of the ribbing. More 'evidence' against him when he was still dealing with the fallout from the amnesia, and everyone was just starting to trust him again… Or...
"You said some things…" Rico began, dispelling the excuses Sonny had been trying to tell himself.
'James' appeared in his mind. Telling him of his biggest regret. Sonny wanted to come clean, but that part of him warred with the part that wanted to keep this truth to himself. To tell would be risking everything. The only thing he had left. The only thing that mattered anymore.
What had Rico heard?
"I was on a beach," Sonny began. Telling Rico his secrets was like breathing. "There was this old man there, fishing, but it turned out he was me."
"You said I was the other half of your soul."
Sonny could do nothing but stare into his partner's eyes, knowing the longing was showing but unable to hide it. After the moment of honesty stretched to the breaking point, he closed his eyes in surrender.
"I'm one regret you don't need to have," Rico whispered.
Sonny opened his eyes.
"I'm right here."
That he was. And had always been.
"I can be the one who didn't get away," Rico continued earnestly.
There was no use in pretending anymore. "It's not gonna be easy," Sonny warned. Rico had to know what they were getting themselves into.
Rico chuckled. "When is it ever? Question is, is it worth it?"
Rico was asking Sonny if he was worth it? That was like a bucket of ice water waking him up with its absurdity.
"Worth anything and everything, partner," Sonny answered, reaching out.
Their hands connected, fingers interlocking and holding on tight. Sonny could hear the sounds of backup arriving. Later, they would talk. Make decisions and plans.
For now, it was enough to know that he wouldn't be letting the greatest catch of his life slip away.