CSI universe short prompts

106. Sports - Walter Simmons/Jesse Cardoza

Walter Simmons and Jesse Cardoza were more than colleagues—they were friends who shared secrets, victories, and the court at the local basketball court. Miami's sunsets painted the sky as they dribbled, their sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

Jesse had known Speedle prior to his departure from Miami, but it was Walter who became his confidant. They'd swap stories—about cases, about life, about the ache that lingered after a long day of solving crimes. Walter's jump shot was impeccable, and Jesse's layups were poetry in motion.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case, they sat on the bleachers, sweat-soaked and weary. The city buzzed around them, but here, in the quiet of the court, they could breathe.

"You know," Jesse said, wiping his face with a towel, "we're like the unsung heroes of Miami."

Walter chuckled. "Unsung and underpaid."

"But we make a difference," Jesse insisted. "Even when the bad guys slip through our fingers, we keep fighting."

Walter glanced at him. "You miss New York?"

Jesse hesitated. "Sometimes. But Miami has its charm. And you—you're the heart of this team."

Walter's cheeks reddened. "I'm just an art-theft specialist."

"No," Jesse said. "You're the guy who notices the brushstroke that leads us to the forger. You're the one who sees the hidden patterns."

They sat in companionable silence, the court bathed in moonlight. Walter's heart swirled with emotions he couldn't name. Jesse's smile was a balm, and Walter wondered if friendship could heal the cracks in his soul.

When Jesse was killed, the court lost its magic. Walter played alone, the echoes of their laughter haunting him. He'd never forget the day they'd raced each other to the basket, the sun setting behind them. Jesse's sneakers had left imprints in the sand, and Walter had vowed to keep running, keep fighting—for both of them.

Natalia found him there, staring at the empty court. "Walter," she said softly, "you don't have to face this alone."

He shook his head. "Jesse—"

"He'd want you to keep playing," Natalia said. "To honor his memory."

So Walter dribbled, his heart heavy. The moon watched over him, and he imagined Jesse's laughter in the breeze. Maybe, just maybe, they'd meet again on this court, shooting hoops in the afterlife.

And as Walter sank a perfect three-pointer, he whispered, "For you, Jesse. Moon over Miami."