TITLE: Associative Evidence
Part of the Denuo AU
AUTHOR: Macx and Lara Bee
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Ecklie/Franklin (main), Chris/Ezra, Nick/Gil
ARCHIVE: yes
DISCLAIMER: not mine. Wish I could have them, but whoever all owns them, I'm not trying to infringe on anything. All rights are with the creators of the show, the studios, whatever.
The Denuo universe was created by Lara Bee and myself. More stories from different shows can be found here: http://home.arcor.de/larabee/mag7/denuo.html
Macx's Voice of Warning (aka Authors' Note): English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize <g> The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are.....
 

Some lines/scene with Hodges were taken from the 6th season episode 'Room Service'. They fit so well to Hodges actual situation in our little AU...

Franklin could say he had really loved the evening. As well as the night. What was not to love? he mused. Great entertainment, tasty food, and his company was he man he loved, the man who was his life-partner. There had been no special celebration, just the two of them taking time off from their respective work, from responsibilities and pretending to be what neither was - a normal human being. They had wanted to enjoy themselves, and it had been a complete success.

It was now early morning, the sun was peeking through the clouds that promised a rather mediocre day, maybe even a spatter of rain, and the vampire smiled. Conrad was at his side, looking a bit tired, but like Franklin he had enjoyed himself immensely. Both men were dressed up more than usual. Franklin had chosen a charcoal suit with a dark gray dress shirt and a black tie. His lover had gone for the more classic black and white combination, but he looked just tasty in Franklin's eyes. Underneath that formal wear was a very nice body, hidden from view. He doubted anyone knew just what Conrad Ecklie looked underneath his suits and ties.

Better for them. More for Franklin.

"Told you they were good," Franklin said softly as they walked out the front of the Morocco Casino and Hotel with a crowd of gamblers or tourists. Some of the people had been in the show with them; others had spent their money in the casino.

"I believe you," Ecklie chuckled.

There was a warmth in his eyes that told Franklin that the other man was completely relaxed, had truly unwound in the last hours, and while there was tiredness, it wasn't enough to stop the vampire from planning a slow seduction at home.

He was about to reply when something punched him into the side. Hard. His eyes went wide as he stared at his stomach in disbelief; disbelief at the red stain suddenly growing there. And then the pain registered. He gasped, his hand coming away from his abdomen with blood, but before he could say anything, a second hit pierced his shoulder. The vampire gave a soft cry of pain, his senses overloading.

He wasn't aware of the screams all around him. He wasn't aware of more shots being fired. All he registered was his own blood, the presence of too many people around him, and then the darkness.

*

Ecklie had enjoyed himself. The late evening show had been breath-taking and the food served afterwards had been very good. The company had been handsome, downright edible in that charcoal suit, and Franklin knew just what he looked like. He had earned appreciative looks in the casino, but Ecklie hadn't felt a single rise of jealousy. His doubts of before had vanished in view of the events of the last years, and he knew just how faithful the vampire was. Nothing and no one could sway him from the human's side, and it was both humbling and breathtaking to be loved by this very attractive man.

Lately it hadn't been very often that they could spend a nice night or evening together. Ecklie's job had become rather demanding, the Assistant Director of the second-best crime lab in the US, and he had been traveling a lot. The undersheriff kept him busy and the mayor was demanding regular updates on crime matters. Add to that his second job as a shaman and Conrad Ecklie was slowly but surely having no more private life. It bothered him and as of late, he was giving the option of leaving the AD job a closer thought. But if he gave that up, he would also leave the protection of Grissom and Nick to someone else.

It was a hard decision, one not to be made just like that, and whatever he did, he wouldn't be able to satisfy all needs. Franklin didn't pressure him into anything, accepted the doubled work load, and he hadn't complained so far. But Conrad knew he would have to make a sacrifice.

He hadn't come to the show in an official capacity, but he had run into someone who knew him as such anyway. Undersheriff McKeen had made small talk, nodded at Franklin, then walked off again. Ecklie had sighed in relief. He hated politics invading his private life.

When they left the Morocco, he blinked into the early morning sun. It was five already and he was glad to have today off, today being Saturday and all.

The first shot had him freeze. He stared at the red stain blossoming on his lover's otherwise pristine shirt. Wide, gray eyes stared at him and Ecklie was about to say something when the second shot hit. He felt something burn into his own arm.

People screamed in panic.

Something... someone... hit him in the ribs and he doubled over, going down. A foot collided hard with his head and bright flashes exploded in front of his eyes.

There were suddenly sirens.

More screams.

His arm was a useless appendage at his side, his head hurt, his ribs were one big bruise, but the sight of his lover lying not far away, bleeding, pushed all his own pains into the background.

Ecklie weakly groped for his cell and hit a speed dial button. They needed help. Special help.

* * *

When Captain Jim Brass had received the call about a shooting in front of the Morocco it had been close to the end of his shift. He had sighed to himself, grabbed his jacket and headed out to the new hotel on the Strip.

Open for two months and already a crime scene, he mused.

There were ambulances and squad cars already there, uniforms keeping onlookers away, unrolling crime scene tape, and some were taking witness reports. Sergeant O'Riley nodded at him, looking strangely perturbed.

"O'Riley, what do we have?"

"A shit load," was the reply. "Unknown shooter. Fired several shots into the crowd. Hit five people, one of them Ecklie."

Brass felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Ecklie?" he echoed.

"Yeah. He was hit in the arm. We also have a victim with two bullet wounds, one in the abdomen, one in the shoulder. He was next to Ecklie."

"Name?"

"No idea. I sent someone to the hospital to get the information."

Brass scanned the ambulances and found a familiar form just beyond the taped off area. He was currently pushed back onto the gurney.

"Damn," he gnashed through clenched teeth and hurried over to the paramedics.

The last thing he needed was the press swarming all over this. The Assistant Director of the crime lab had been shot, the undersheriff had been in the same show, and Brass just knew he'd have a migraine by the end of this shift - which promised to be very, very long.

Brass flashed his shield and nodded at Ecklie, whose slightly glazed eyes were dulled with pain.

"What hospital?" Brass demanded of the paramedics.

"Valley."

Brass made a note. "Ecklie? I'll call Grissom and have someone handle the press."

All he got was a weak blink of the eye and a nod. Ecklie looked shocky, pale, and barely conscious. Brass motioned at the paramedics to go and walked back to O'Riley.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Yeah. Barrel full. McKeen's on the warpath. He wasn't in the crowd, was still in the casino when it happened. Where do you want to start?"

"Witnesses."

And they were off.

* * *

Ecklie sat on the exam table, gritting his teeth, fighting with his shirt. The sleeve had been cut off, but there was blood everywhere spattered across the rest. It was a lost cause. With a growl he threw it onto the ground. He was still wearing a white t-shirt underneath and while that was bloodied as well, it was at least better than a ruined shirt. He slid off the exam table and groaned against a pulse of pain. His arm had been treated, the ugly bullet wound stitched closed, and a white bandage wrapped around it. He had been given dozens of shots, some of them probably against the pain, but those still had to kick in.

A nurse was cleaning up the exam room, shooting him sympathetic looks.

"You should lie back and rest, give the medication time to work."

Ecklie nodded briefly.

"Do you need to call someone?"

"No. I already did," he replied weakly. "Thanks. Do you know anything about my partner?"

"What's his name?"

"Franklin McDermott."

Franklin had taken his former name, the name before he had become a vampire, as his last name. It helped with official matters and it was on his driver's license and other papers.

"I'll see what I can find out."

"Thanks."

He sank back, feeling tired, the pain pulsing through him, through his head, and he tried to relax, but his mind was in turmoil and his worry about Franklin kept him awake.

Someone had told him that the press was haunting the lobby of the hospital, trying to get word of his condition or talk to one of the other victims, but nurses and doctors fiercely protected their patients. It was even more fierce concerning Franklin and Ecklie because of their paranormal status. They had been brought to a different wing where the staff knew about them.

After a while the nurse came back, smiling reassuringly. "Your partner is in special care. You can see him when Dr. Landis clears him."

"Who is Landis?" Ecklie asked.

"The resident ER doctor for paranormal cases. He knows about vampires and how to treat them when they are as badly injured as Mr. McDermott."

Ecklie didn't find the words all too reassuring. Especially the 'badly injured' part. He had had glimpses of Franklin, of the blood soaked clothes and the terrible injuries. He needed to see his lover.

"Where is he?" he wanted to know, sounding tired.

She gave him the room number, but cautioned him that this was a treatment room and he would be informed when Franklin was stable.

"Get some rest," she advised, then left him again.

Ecklie's thoughts were far from restful.

* * *

Grissom had the whole team on the case, no exception. Aside from Ecklie and Franklin, two more people had been hurt by flying bullets, but those injuries were relatively harmless. One had been clipped at the thigh, another at the shoulder. Franklin was the most serious case and Grissom had divided the team so that Sara, Warrick and Catherine had the other two victims, and he and Nick and Greg worked Ecklie and Franklin's case.

Officially it was because of seniority on Grissom's part. Ecklie was their AD and because of that it was Grissom's job to handle his shooting.

Unofficially the two paranormals and their ally were quite aware of the possible implications of this shooting. So far it wasn't clear what or who the target had been. If it had been Ecklie, they had to find out whether or not the shooter had been aware of Ecklie's identity as a shaman. If not, it was probably political or even personal. If the target had been Franklin, it was a completely new ballgame. Someone shooting a vampire would call the community into action.

Greg had immediately informed Danielle, the community leader, told her to keep everyone in check, that so far there was no indication of Franklin being the target, and she had reluctantly agreed to wait. Franklin might not be high in the chain of command, but he wasn't a nobody. The life-partner of a shaman who happened to be a vampire was known in the community.

Now Grissom stood at the taped-off crime scene, let his eyes roam over the dried blood stains, some larger, some smaller, the debris all over the place, the scattered medical supplies. Shades hid the blue eyes as he scanned the buildings around him, the people that passed by the crime scene, shooting curious looks at him and his team, and he finally turned to the others.

"Sara, photograph everything. I don't want any details missing. Catherine, Brass is already interviewing witnesses and talking to the conscious victims. I want you there. Warrick, Nick, evidence collection."

Catherine shot him a quizzical look. "You?"

"I'll be at the hospital. We have two more bullets to collects and they were inside one of the victims. Greg is already there."

Catherine nodded. Grissom walked to his car and drove off, mind on their latest case. It wasn't the first time he worked a scene that involved Conrad Ecklie. Years ago he had been shot while exiting a crime scene. Then he had been involved with Caine's murder to a degree, again as a victim. And now his life-partner had been nearly killed and he had been injured.

Life was never dull around them.

* * *

Franklin was in a single room, under heavy security, with two nurses and one doctor. They were all probably paranormals, maybe even magic users, because treating a gravely injured vampire was dangerous. Ecklie didn't care about any kind of danger. His feverish mind wanted nothing more than to see his lover for himself. Franklin had been shot twice, had lost blood, and he needed to be there.

The smell of blood was everywhere and Ecklie felt something shiver through him. Franklin had been stripped, the clothes nothing but bloody rags on the floor. The vampire was pale, the blood the only color on him, and the doctor and two nurses were working quickly and efficiently to clean out the wounds. Their movements had no finesse, they weren't trying to make this as good as possible, they were just hurrying through the motions.

Ecklie stared in shock.

Franklin had been tied to the table, hands and feet securely fastened with leather straps. It looked like a butcher's workshop, with no medical equipment aside from the basics. No heart monitor, not ventilator, nothing.

"W-what...?" he stuttered, his own drugged brain unable to understand what was going on.

How could they treat Franklin like this?!

The doctor looked up, his face pinched in concentration. "Who are you?"

"Conrad Ecklie. He's..."

"Your life partner," the man finished briskly. "Yes. Now get out of here!"

"What are you doing?!" Ecklie demanded, agitation flittering through him.

"Treating a vampire! Leave this room now! Where the hell is security?!"

Ecklie was rooted to the spot, his shamanic senses flaring to life, taking in the weak life signs of his lover, the massive blood loss, and the rising consciousness in the other man.

A growl left Franklin's lips as they pulled back over white teeth. No canines. That was vampire lore. Vampires didn't actually bite their victims.

"Ah hell!" the doctor exclaimed.

The vampire tugged weakly at his bonds. Then with more force. Gray eyes opened, revealing silvery blazing orbs.

Vampire eyes.

"Shit!"

Franklin roared wildly and sat up, the straps ripping under the sudden onslaught of supernatural force like paper. Superhuman strength, that was one of the truths about vampires. The nurses scattered back, the doctor not far behind, all of them covered in Franklin's blood.

"Franklin?" Ecklie tried weakly.

The eyes were wild, resembling nothing he had ever seen in his lover. This was the primal being hiding underneath a civil façade, and it was lose.

Franklin hissed like a large cat, the growls and grumbles rising to a crescendo, and then he moved.

It was fast. Despite his injuries, it was lightning fast. Ecklie didn't know how he did it, but it had to be the shaman. Powers flared to life, magic fizzed and crackled, then struck the attacking creature. It stopped Franklin right in his tracks, froze him for a brief moment. The vampire screamed in denial and frustration. Fingers that had been curled into claws tried to scrabble for his prize, for Ecklie, who stared at the man he loved in shock.

Nothing of Franklin had remained.

Nothing at all.

This was a wild beast, a primal being, without rational thought.

"Knock him out!" the doctor yelled. "His blood lust will kill him!"

He could feel the all-powerful instinct to survive. It was the only thing that drove Franklin on. There was nothing of the man he loved in those wild eyes. Only the beast. Only a mindless creature.

Ecklie looked into those silver orbs, agony racing through him. He felt the magic as it lashed at the vampire it held, cut into his very aura to drive him back, and Franklin howled in pain, driven wild with the need to feed and the inability to do so. Blood was pouring out of his reopened wounds, terrible, terrible wounds that had been inflicted by an unknown shooter.

"God damnit, do it!" the doctor screamed again. "He'll bleed out!"

Ecklie had no choice. With an almost-sob he let his powers flare once more and struck at the hapless vampire's mind. Franklin gave a keening cry of pain, then collapsed, curling in on himself.

Blood pooled on the floor.

Franklin's blood. Too much blood.

Conrad felt faint, power thrumming through him with each heartbeat as he held the weakly struggling being. Franklin was still breathing, still alive, but his life spark was barely there. He could sense the drifting energy, was very much aware of the life ebbing away with each heart beat.

What had he done?

"Get him out of here!" the doctor ordered, snapping Ecklie out of his stupor.

Ecklie detected a flare of magic in the other man, identifying a powerful witch. He wouldn't have been able to hold Franklin as easily as the shaman had done, but he was very well able to defend himself.

Someone touched his elbow very carefully.

"No," Ecklie croaked.

"You saw what happened, damnit!" the medic exploded. "Get out of here! Your blood triggered this! He is depleted, he needs blood, and he'll attack whatever he can get. He's wild."

"Then get blood into him!"

"Not before we manage to close all his wounds. He's bleeding out too fast. Now get out of here!"

"I... I can help," he whispered.

"No, you can't. You triggered him because you're injured. Get a clue and leave!" the doctor snapped.

Ecklie was shaking as he was guided to the outside where a nurse quickly checked his injury.

"We need to suture it again," she said calmly. "You ripped a few stitches."

Blood was trickling down his upper arm. Ecklie didn't even notice. He still saw the terribly wounded being that was his lover, curled up on the floor, struck down by his powers. Something inside of him curled up just the same, whimpering in shared pain.

Conrad's eyes were on the closed door of the treatment room, ignoring the nurse who was busy with his arm. He stretched his senses, moaning silently as he identified Franklin's barely existing life force.

Vampires were hard to kill. Those two bullets couldn't end Franklin's life and even if his heart stopped, regeneration would help him survive. But just watching each laborious heart beat was painful, and Ecklie couldn't turn away.

* * *

The press had found a victim in form of the undersheriff and hungrily flocked toward the man as McKeen gave a statement as to what had happened.

"So far we have little evidence to support a premeditated hit on Assistant Director Conrad Ecklie. Our best team is on this case," he told the crowd.
Cameras were on his face, pictures were snapped, and microphones recorded every word.

Questions were fired and he answered them calmly, never saying too much. Gil Grissom had to give it to him, the man was a good politician. Sipping at the special blend Greg had brewed, he listened for a minute more, then turned away.

The lab was in uproar. Ecklie had been shot, his partner was in critical condition, and even those who didn't like the man were shocked. Conrad Ecklie had changed from the coldly calculating asshole of a dayshift supervisor to a supportive and rather lab-oriented AD. Grissom suspected that most people here had changed their opinion when Ecklie had tried to get the money for Nick's kidnappers out of his own funds for the lab, talking to everyone about possible cutbacks. They had supported him and their anger had turned toward the mayor and everyone else when that solution had been cast away.

Ecklie held a lot of bonus points with a huge number of his employees, even if they rarely showed it. Some still sucked up to him, but some were truly loyal now. That he was in a relationship with a man and not a woman had only turned Ecklie that much more human in many eyes. Those who had homophobic tendencies were outweighed by those who couldn't care less.

Grissom rinsed his mug and walked back to his office where a stack of notes was waiting. Press calls, he noticed with a grimace.

He just threw them into the waste and turned to his work. Nick was still with Sara at the crime scene, Catherine and Warrick were checking in with the other victims, accompanied by O'Riley, and Greg was at the hospital, doing what allies did: provide help.

* * *

Greg Sanders had been already on his way to the hospital by the time Grissom was called to the crime scene. He had followed an emergency call from one of his contacts, informing him of what had happened outside the Morocco. He had dropped what he had been working on, informed Grissom in brief words, and then gone off to see what kind of damage control he had to do. What he found was a devastated looking Conrad Ecklie, pale, a bandage around his right upper arm and the arm in a sling, hollow eyes gazing at the floor.

Greg quickly scanned the area, found no one too close by, and approached. "Ecklie? Conrad?"

Ecklie blinked and looked at him, brow furrowing. "What are you doing here?"

Greg briefly rolled his eyes at the rather superfluous question. "I'm your ally. Where do you think I should be?"

Ecklie closed his eyes and cradled his injured arm. There was a pinched look to his features and Greg didn't like his whole behavior. He had been shot, his life-partner was critical, and something had happened. Greg had no paranormal powers, but he had come to know Conrad Ecklie pretty well in the last years. The man was too shocky for a shaman.

"I brought clothes. Found some in your locker," he explained almost apologetically.

Conrad gave him a wavering smile. "Thanks."

"Go, change."

Greg shooed him off into an empty exam room to change while he hunted down the doctor in charge. It didn't take him long and he identified himself as an ally, demanding to know how bad the vampire was off.

"He went feral, Mr. Sanders," Dr. Oliver Landis said, face stern. "He lost too much blood to retain his human façade and attacked his own life-partner. Mr. Ecklie had been bleeding, reeking of blood, and the vampire broke free. We have him on a constant blood feed now, his wounds have been closed, and natural healing will do the rest. He has to rest and recover."

"Do you have the bullets?"

"Yes."

"I need them."

Landis gave him a frown and Greg sighed.

"I'm with the crime unit, CSI. We're working the scene of the shooting and the bullets are evidence."

Greg knew that nothing short of Armageddon would be able to remove Grissom from this case. He felt the same. His primary work was that of an ally right now, but he would join his team soon enough and two of them were aware of the special circumstances of it all.

"I'll have a nurse get them. Take care of Mr. Ecklie. He was pretty rattled by the attack. I believe he's a magic user?"

Greg only nodded, not revealing the more complicated nature of Conrad Ecklie. Not everyone had to know he was a shaman. He walked back where the shaman in question was waiting, looking a little better in the fresh pants and the dark shirt. He was still cradling his arm, still looked exhausted and pale, and Greg knew Ecklie had to get some rest soon.

"They have Franklin on a blood feed and he's sedated," he told the older man. "And no, you can't see him again."

"He's my partner!" Ecklie snapped, some of the old fire back in his eyes.

"And he's currently asleep. You can't do anything and it would be better if you caught a few hours of sleep. Go home, Conrad."

Ecklie looked drawn between fighting him and relenting, and finally he relented. The dark eyes were shadowed and the hollow seemed to deepen.

"I'll drive," Greg decided.

And he did. Ecklie was a silent passenger, staring out into the bright Las Vegas day.

* * *

Ecklie had spent a lonely, sleepless night at home. Cleo had been his constant companion, purring softly, never leaving his side. But her small warm body was no replacement for Franklin's presence. When he had finally drifted off, it had been to nightmares and restless shifting, until the pain in his arm had woken him. Ecklie had taken his painkillers and showered, the hot water beating against his tired, bruised body, soaking the bandage so thoroughly he had to change it. It looked clumsy and he knew he had to go to the hospital to get it renewed.

Next on his agenda was calling Grissom and getting an update on the shooting.

"You should be resting," Grissom admonished gently.

"Gil, drop it, okay?" he sighed tiredly, feeling close to a hysteric outbreak.

Franklin had been shot. Right next to him.

Franklin had attacked him. The vampire had broken through.

And Ecklie was trying to remain calm and collected, not think about the latter, concentrate only on his job.

"We have collected the evidence, Conrad," Grissom told him, voice never changing his calm inflection. "Brass talked to witnesses, Catherine has been at the hospital where the others were treated, we have some leads, and we need to sift through it all."

Ecklie rubbed his head. What had he seen? Had he seen anything at all? Could he remember anything?

The answer was no.

"I didn't see a thing," he murmured.

"Maybe, maybe not. You're a shaman, Conrad. Maybe you saw something subconsciously."

He laughed humorlessly. "Maybe. Right now, I'm not so sure what I am, Gil."

"Greg is back at the hospital with Franklin," the other man informed him. "He told me things are looking up."

Ecklie closed his eyes, leaning back against the chair. He was still so tired and despite the painkillers his arm throbbed, a headache was taking root, and everything appeared dull.

"Keep me updated. I'll be in the office."

"Conrad, stay home!" Gil said firmly. "There's nothing you can do and everyone will understand when you stay home. You just got shot!"

Ecklie was drawn between agreeing and protesting. In the end he sighed.

"I know, Gil, I know," he answered quietly. "But I can't stay here and they won't let me close to Franklin."

It hurt. It hurt more than his lover attacking him, because that had been a hungry vampire. Part of Ecklie understood that.

"I'll send Nick or Greg over," Grissom decided. "He can give you a rundown of the case. But you will stay home."

"Yes, sir," Ecklie replied with a chuckle.

He hung up and closed his eyes, trying to wipe his mind of things, but it was no use. He just couldn't find that calm center he normally used to balance himself and with a frustrated sigh he got up, aimlessly pacing through the house until the pain in his arm made him sit down again.

Ecklie finally found a mindless TV program to watch.

* * *

Nick had dropped off the evidence he had collected at the crime scene the night before and now returned to the next shift with the intention of going over it with a fine tooth comb. He was just about done with unpacking the evidence container when Grissom walked in. Gil looked over the evidence collection, then at the list.

"Is that everything?"

"Yeah. I'll start right away and let you know what I find."

"Leave it to Sara. I want you with Ecklie."

Nick frowned, looking far from affronted by the new duties. "Gil?"

"Conrad's home and we talked, but I don't like it. I want you there, keep him from overreacting."

"Sure. You really don't need me here?"

"I'd rather have you with Conrad. And should he remember anything, call. Stay the day if you have to, but keep him from doing something stupid."

Nick nodded. "Will do. See you next shift."

And with that he left the lab for the garage where his Tahoe was parked. He was out on the street a few minutes later, heading for the townhouse shared by Franklin and Conrad Ecklie.

* * *

Greg had taken the two recovered bullets to Ballistics and left them in Bobby's care. Bobby Dawson looked at the plastic container, inspecting the two pieces of metal. He knew what he had to do and he knew how important this evidence was. Analyzing the bullet would be first to determine what kind of weapon had been used. From there he could take an estimated guess as to how far the bullet could have traveled, and if a shell casing was found somewhere, this bullet would be important to match it to the casing and to the possible gun.
 

Three hours later Greg was back in Ballistics, following Bobby's beep.

"What do you have?"

Dawson nodded at the now again safely sealed bullets. "Fully jacketed bullets, shot from a high powered rifle over a good distance. They had a high penetrating power, as well as a very high muzzle velocity. I ran them and found a striations match from an older case."

He gestured at the computer and Greg read over the open file. It was a similar shooting, two years ago in LA, where an unknown shooter had killed two people, injured five more, and disappeared. Shell casings had been found, bullets extracted, but it had never been solved.

"Thanks, Bobby," Greg said and took the bullets into his care again. He would drop them off with Evidence.

"No problem. Hope you find the guy."

Greg gave him a tight smile. Bobby hadn't been and probably wouldn't be the last to say that. Jackie had already expressed her disgust at what had happened, and more lab techs had asked about Ecklie. The AD would probably have a coronary if he knew how many people had started to care. Sanders smiled tightly to himself.

"Uh, how's his partner?" Bobby asked carefully.

It was an open secret that Conrad Ecklie was together with another man, but no one had taken offense in an official way. At first it had been because no one really liked Ecklie and couldn't care less, but things had turned around and changed a lot in the past years. By now Franklin was a known sight in these halls, and while they didn't hold hands, kissed or stared lovingly at each other, the lab was quite aware of the relationship.

"Hanging on," Greg answered. "It's bad, though. He was hit twice." He looked at the bullets. "Those were removed through surgery."

Bobby looked sympathetic. Greg knew that Dawson was gay, had a steady partner, and the sympathy was real.

Sanders left Ballistics, deep in thought.

* * *

A yawn escaped unbidden, right the moment Catherine walked into the Trace Lab. David Hodges blinked, looking caught. Damn.

"Sorry! I just started seeing someone," he murmured. „Had a bit of a late night. "

That was actually an understatement. It had been a brief night. Not because of the great sex. It was more of a thing to time their dates. Nandi Kidja Kunene wasn't just his girlfriend. She was also a business manager with a high profile and very responsible job in the casino business. And she was a shaman, which wasn't really a job description but more of a general existence in this universe, as Hodges understood the whole matter. She was bound to the earth, a woman in total harmony with the spirit of the elements, so powerful and yet still so... womanly.

He still didn't understand why she had chosen him. She had so many more fitting partners to pick from in his opinion. She didn't need to put up with a lowly lab tech. Even when she had told him about her background, that she had been a slave in her past life, he couldn't push aside his feelings of inadequacy.

She was stunningly beautiful.

At Catherine's expression, Hodges felt something inside of him go forth and ask what he wouldn't normally say out loud.

"Let me ask you something. How do you know when it's gone from just friends to more than that?"

Even 'just friends' could have great sex. Nandi had told him she loved him, but his innate wariness made Hodges... wary.

"Well, if you have to ask... just friends."

"She is making dinner for me this weekend," he added quickly.

That was more or less the truth. They were having another date, even though there was this great reception at the Shaman, and she had invited him.

"Are you the only guest?"

Aside from several dozen others? He wondered.

"Do her roommates count?"

Well, 'roommates' was a lie, but he could hardly say he was seeing the business manager of the Shaman Hotel and Casino. So he covered. He was an ally. That's what they did, even in their private lives.

Catherine's face drew into an expression of amusement and Hodges quickly pushed aside the personal aspect of the conversation and went right to the professional one, giving her the results of his tests on whatever trace they had brought in from the shooting.

That was on his mind even more than Nandi. Conrad Ecklie had been grazed by a bullet, Franklin had been hit twice. As an ally, he should be trying to help, but Greg had informed him he'd be the primary on this one. Hodges would work in the lab, keep blood evidence from Franklin inconspicuous, and do whatever was necessary to hide the true nature of the two men - without compromising the evidence or the case.

Hodges leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his face. Shit was hitting the fan, but there were people in this lab and outside to protect the shaman and the vampire, him included. He might be a reluctant ally, but he had grown into his new old role in the last months. He wouldn't let them down.

* * *

Nick didn't do much more than sit in Ecklie's living room, the TV off, no music in the background. Everything was silent except for the sounds coming in from the outside. It was already dark and everyone would be busy at the lab or talking to witnesses, he mused. He didn't mind being here. It was a chance to repay Conrad for the incredible help and support he had been in the past year. The shaman had done far more than just help him find his inner balance again. He had initiated a healing in Nick's wounded soul and while the scars were still there, the nightmares had disappeared and the memories were bearable.

Currently the shaman had his eyes-closed, sat cross-legged on the rug that covered a hardwood floor, and he was trying to sink into a meditative state to regroup his energy, to find an inner balance.

Nick knew that it wasn't easy to achieve that state when your mind was in upheaval. Ecklie had taught him the technique over months and even today he sometimes faltered.

The other man looked like a pale shadow of himself, exhausted, mentally as well as physically, and he needed this. He needed to recharge his paranormal side. Nick couldn't see auras, but he would bet on it that Ecklie's was rather grayish at the moment. The injury was only contributing to the unwell feeling.

They had gone through the evidence Grissom's team had already collected and Nick had given his friend and superior a very detailed report. Ecklie had listened, had placed a few very precise questions, and he had tried to remember what he might have seen.

It was then that Nick had suggested meditation.

Now Ecklie was attempting just that, going back to that precise moment and letting the shaman watch the events through his eyes.

Nick turned back to his reading, lying comfortably on the leather couch, catching up on a novel he had started what seemed a life time ago. Cleo had chosen his lap as a place to doze off. He petted the little cat and she purred softly.

Nick couldn't physically help Ecklie, nor with any kind of power, but the other man had requested his presence. Nick trusted Conrad and he knew that trust was returned. If his presence helped, Nick would stay here.

*

It wasn't too hard for a shaman to cast his mind back to what had happened to him, especially such a painful event. With an anchor it was even safer and Nick was that anchor. The Phoenix-Mimic was well-known to Ecklie. Conrad easily slid along the lines of his power, seeking this moment in time, just before the shooting, in his memories.

//It had been a nice evening, a nice night, and after their dinner, which had been rather early in the morning, they had strolled through the casino of the Morocco. Even this early in the morning the tables were crowded, people wanted to try their luck at the machines, and some die-hard tourists were hanging about and looking around. The Morocco had been opened just a few months ago, and the entertainment offered was world-class. The show tickets had been expensive, but Franklin had insisted they were worth it and he wanted to treat Conrad to one of the famous new performances.

So they had seen the midnight show, had had dinner after that, had played at one of the tables, and then left the casino.

Only to run into the shooting.

Ecklie stayed where he was in his mind, in that exact moment, looking at his lover, the people around him, the buildings. Franklin had still been excited, eyes aglow with life, lips showing an open smile. No one around them had given them more than one passing glance. They weren't standing out, weren't special.

Then the first shot had been fired.

Blood on his lover's body.

Ecklie forced himself not to look at the terrible wound. He tore his eyes away and looked around, needing to see what he had really seen.

A second shot, going wide, hitting another person. A young woman, mid-twenties, holding a child on one hand.

A third shot, again hitting Franklin, pushing him back.

There.

Something glinted.

And then his own arm exploded into pain. The fourth shot.

He gasped, pushing the pain away. It was a memory and the pain had long since turned into a dull throb. It wasn't fresh any more. But it still burned through him.

The glint, movement, across the street, where a hotel was being built.

A fifth shot, hitting someone else... two people, standing one in front of the other, the bullet leaving bloody traces on both.

And then he went down, his focus shifting, and the pain overwhelmed him again.//
 

Ecklie opened his eyes with a little gasp and he was aware of Nick crouching close by, not touching, but offering support. Cleo sat on the couch, watching him with alert eyes, ears pricked, tail twitching.

"Conrad?"

"I'm fine," he managed, though his arm begged to differ. It hurt.

"Sure." Nick gave him a smile.

Ecklie rubbed his forehead and laboriously climbed to his feet. He swayed briefly and felt Nick's hand at his elbow, gently pushing him toward the couch. The shaman sensed the strong, healthy aura of the Mimic close to him and took his own strength from that presence. He was so familiar with Nick's presence, he didn't even have to readjust his own aura to it.

"Any success?" Nick asked carefully.

"In a way. The shooter was at the construction site across from the Morocco. I saw the glint of a rifle. He fired five times, but he wasn't aiming at anyone particular as far as I could see."

Nick made a few notes, nodding.

"After I went down I didn't see anything. Sorry."

"Hey, no problem. At least we have somewhere to go and look for shell casings or other trace. We might be able to get security footage from the construction site or from the hotels around it."

"Good luck on that." Ecklie leaned his head back, fighting the headache and nausea.

"Want the painkillers?" Nick offered.

"Might not be such a bad idea."

He listened to Stokes walk into the kitchen, then as he came back with the medication bottle and a glass of water. Ecklie took it gratefully.

"You should get some rest."

"I need to talk to Nandi," Conrad answered, stubbornly getting to his feet.

Only to run into a very solid presence in form of Nick's hand against his chest, holding him back. The brown eyes were hard, the expression unyielding.

"She can come to you if you need to talk, but you are injured, Conrad, and you need to rest. You were shot, damnit! It's nothing to take lightly. You won't be any help to Franklin if you just collapse, shaman or no shaman!"

Nick was playing the Franklin card, Ecklie mused, and he was having success because Ecklie's subconsciousness agreed with the younger man. And looking into those dark eyes he knew he had no chance to get out of this place, unless he used force.

"You play a mean game, Stokes," he muttered.

"I'm being a friend."

"And that."

Ecklie slowly shuffled over to his bedroom, feeling so many aches now. He had to sleep, he knew it, especially after this recollection meditation. It had exhausted him. Nick stayed, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking like a fierce guardian. Ecklie smiled at that only too true analogy.

* * *

Nick actually stayed the rest of his shift and Ecklie finally managed to convince him to go home, take a shower and sleep in his own bed when he found Nick dozing on the couch. He appreciated the gesture of staying, but Nick wasn't his bodyguard. As good as it felt to have a friend around, Nick had a job to do. That job involved catching whoever had shot at them.

Ecklie himself had a brief breakfast and then drove over to the hospital. He walked into the private room, aware of the security measures taken to ensure that Franklin, should he become primal again, wouldn't be able to escape. So far he had been given large amounts of blood and sedatives, and it was looking a lot better than the day before. His healing abilities were kicking in and Landis was pleased with the developments so far, though it could be better, he remarked.

Franklin's face was still deathly pale with a sickly gray tinge. His eyes looked bruised and his chest was thickly bandaged. Ecklie approached carefully, trying to shake the image of the silvery-eyed fury that had tried to tear his throat out. He had seen his lover's vampiric nature rise before, on several occasions, even in bed. Franklin's eyes glowed a warm silver light when he let go, when emotions flared, when he reached climax.

But this had been different.

Gray eyes, dull and slightly glazed over, opened. They blinked once, twice, then Franklin's lips moved into a barely perceptible smile.

"...conrad..." he whispered weakly.

The shaman knew he was a match for this vampire, he knew he was a lot stronger, but Ecklie's memories liked to remind him of the danger this being represented. He pushed them aside and touched the too cool skin.

"Hey."

Franklin let his eyes slide shut, leaning into the caress.

"...what happened...?"

"You were shot. We don't know who or why. You and some others in the crowd."

"...you...?"

Ecklie hesitated, almost automatically cradling his arm closer. "Yes. It's not too bad. You got two bullets stuck in you, one hit a major artery. That's why you probably feel a little worn out now. You lost a lot of blood." You lost yourself...

"...tired..."

And with that Ecklie felt the meager energy even out once more, saw the aura, a sickly grayish matter, flicker, and he sighed softly. It would take Franklin a few days to recover from this and he hoped that until then they had the shooter. Otherwise Ecklie couldn't guarantee for anything.
 

He stayed as long as the nurses and Dr. Landis let him, then went home again. This time he was alone once more, only kept company by a worriedly meowing Cleo who immediately snuggled up to him.

The dreams weren't pleasant that night.

* * *

It was when he fell asleep on the microscope that Hodges knew he was about to blow his cover. Not that as an ally, but that as the lover of Nandi Kidja Kunene.
Nick and Warrick had found him, and Nick had teased him for the rest of the shift. Yes, he had caught up to missing sleep, and yes, he had had the greatest dream, but if this had been anyone but a friend catching him sleep... Damn.

Being with Nandi was more than he had ever imagined to be. She was great. She was beautiful and warm and caring, and whether she did it consciously or unconsciously, she calmed him. It had to be the earth magic, but Hodges didn't really care. Just being around her was... wonderful. They went to movies, had dinners or lunches, they went shopping or just strolled around. Normal couple stuff. Couples in love.

David Hodges was in love.

It was so new to him, so unexpected, too. He had been with women, but none had ever interested him as much as this one.

The guys at the lab tried to find out about his new girlfriend. Archie was teasing him, digging for information, wanting to know about her. Bobby was congratulating him for finally landing a strike, and Hodges felt like decking him. Greg had made a few remarks, but they weren't as insulting as he had thought Sanders would be. Actually, the younger man had told him whoever she was, she was good for him.

But Hodges kept the name and the face of his lady to himself. No need in making a fool out of himself. Nandi might just dump him next week.

Currently, all their 'extracurricular activities' were more or less suspended due to the latest crisis. Yes, they still shared evenings together, but Nandi was distracted and Hodges just let her snuggle up to him, use his lap or shoulder or whatever as a pillow, and he watched her think. Sometimes he felt her magic more pronouncedly, but never sharp or uncomfortably.

"I'm not good company right now," she apologized.

"Hey, any company that is you is fine," Hodges replied softly, running his fingers through her thick, black hair.

She chuckled. "Charmer."

"That's me. Every woman's dream."

"Not every woman's. Mine."

It stunned him, the whole woman stunned him, and when her lips caught his, he willingly dove into that kiss.

"You're worried," he murmured after they parted.

"Yes. This will be difficult for them both, mostly for Franklin. He attacked his lover. But what worries me more is that Conrad has a decision to make, and that won't be easy. I need to talk to him." She smiled. "But not now. Now is for us. Feel like dinner?"

"Sounds great."

"Any preferences?"

"Italian?" he asked hopefully.

"I know just the place where to get the most perfect pizza," Nandi agreed.

"Lead the way, M'lady."

The shaman chuckled and got up. Hodges followed, unable to resist stealing another kiss.

* * *

Franklin was finally allowed to leave the hospital when Landis was satisfied with his regeneration process, though the doctor repeated again and again that it could be better. Franklin had insisted he wanted to go home and rest there, that he would take it easy, yes, promised, though the injuries were still tender. He felt too weak for his own liking, but anything was better than the hospital and the tests.

The black-out of before had made way to slowly returning memories, and with each fragment the horror grew. He remembered losing control. He remembered going for his lover's throat. He remembered the mindless hunger.

The bullet wounds paled in comparison to his attack on his life-partner and lover. The vampire could almost still feel the blood lust, the need to feed, and the warm body with the enticing, so familiar smell. Blood, readily available. And he had attacked. He had attacked Conrad.

Coming home, he had been silent, withdrawn, noticing how Conrad seemed to watch him with a trace of wariness that hurt. It hurt deeply. Cleo stuck to his side, purring loudly, sometimes meowing her encouragement. Franklin curled up on the couch and let his weakened body doze off, the small cat at his side.
 

He was woken by his lover a few hours later, greeted by a shake to rebalance his system, and he drank it almost self-consciously. Franklin had never hurt Conrad. Never in all their time together. He had never bitten him either. He just couldn't imagine taking blood from the man he loved so deeply, even if the experience was highly erotic.

He hadn't sworn off human blood like Ezra had done, but he substituted often. Cow, horse, pig, whatever he could get from the suppliers of vampires in Las Vegas. Sometimes there were blood packs with human blood. Sure, it tasted different, but it wasn't more powerful like legend and lore had it. Taking from a living donor was a different kind of experience, though. The taste was richer, the blood was warm and alive, not cooled down and stale. It was the difference between frozen and freshly made food. Both nourished, but only one would ever make it to a candlelight dinner.

Franklin had never lost a thought about whether or not he could get a pint from Conrad, turn it into a more erotic experience than mere sex. It wasn't how their relationship worked, how any serious vampire relationship worked. Taking from a human was also highly dangerous for the donor involved. The experience was almost addictive and he had even heard of vampire brothels that had little to do with the sex and more with the addiction the humans fed. They needed this pheromone high to get off, unable to do it otherwise any more.

Now he had attacked his lover and he was afraid. Franklin had always been scared of losing control, and now it had happened.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, repeating what he had said in the hospital so often before.

"Not your fault, Franklin," Conrad answered calmly. "This was beyond your control."

He swallowed. Yes, maybe. He had been close to death, had been in desperate need of blood when he had snapped out of unconsciousness, and the primal being that was the vampire had taken over in that moment.

"I could have killed you. If you hadn't been... I mean, if you weren't a shaman..."

"But I am. I can defend myself."

Franklin felt some of the old temper flare, but he bit down. Conrad was human, even if he was a paranormal human, and if he hadn't reacted as quickly as he had, Franklin would have torn his throat out. He knew that. Ecklie knew that, too. It was why he was so reluctant around him.

"I'm tired," Franklin only said, rising a little unsteadily. "I'm going to bed."

Conrad watched him go, trailed by their feline familiar. Franklin stayed in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. A pale, haggard and rather exhausted face met his dull gray eyes. The face of a creature that would even kill his own life-partner to survive.

Franklin screwed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply, feeling the injuries twinge sharply. He wasn't healing properly and Landis hadn't been very happy about it, but the vampire had still left the hospital.

Cleo meowed and he gave her a weak smile. "I'm so fucked up," he whispered.

She butted her head against his shin, purring. Franklin scratched the cream colored head, sighing once more. After some time he got his courage together and shuffled into the bedroom, which was, as not otherwise expected, empty. Cleo hopped onto the bed and looked expectantly at him. The vampire slid under the covers and she curled up close, purring reassuringly.

It was how he fell asleep.

* * *

It took the team four days to get a viable clue to the identity of the shooter, and only because another witness had come forward, a very frightened and intimidated tourist who had had his video camera along and accidentally shot a few scene from the shooting. Brass and O'Riley took it from there, and with the help of the A/V lab they had a rather good image of the suspect. They rounded up a few men who might be the one, and trace evidence and some DNA in form of bodily fluids left on the shooting site got them the actual shooter.

His reasons for shooting into a crowd of people stayed his own since he was refusing to talk. Connection shad been made to LA, a city where the man had lived right to the day the other attack had taken place. They had hard evidence and the District Attorney saw it the same way.

Grissom and his team were handling the preparation of evidence for the DA and the preliminary hearing.

In private, both Nick and Gil were worried about Franklin and Ecklie. Ecklie was on continued sick leave, but he had been in a few times, only to get kicked out by Grissom whenever the caught sight of him. Conrad looked terrible and he needed the rest. Whatever was going on at home, though, it drove him to come here against medical advice.

"You're worried," Nick stated one evening as they sat together, watching TV.

Grissom was thoughtful, silent, eyes on the TV, but he wasn't really watching it. He had tried to relax with his Sudoku booklet, but after about an hour he had left it on the couch table with a rather frustrated expression in his eyes.

"I am," he finally confessed.

Nick watched him with attentive eyes. "So am I," he finally said.

Now he had Grissom's full attention.

"Conrad is like... frayed around the edge. When I was there, he couldn't really achieve a balance to cast his mind back. Shamans usually can. I know he sacrificed his training for his job, but it's taking its toll. What he helped me with are peanuts compared to what he's going through now. It's personal now. It's about him."

Grissom had to smile at the way Nick had picked all that up from their AD and friend. Nick was sharp, had a quick mind, and he was attentive to details. He knew Conrad Ecklie a lot better than even Grissom could attest to, mainly because of the months they had spent training in the desert, and because of what had happened in the canyon. Nick had actually channeled Ecklie's shamanic energy for a while.

Grissom wasn't jealous of that intimate knowledge. It didn't endanger what he had with his lover and never would. What was between those two men was special, but in a different way than the bond Gil shared with the younger man.

"He needs distance, but he can't achieve distance because it's too close to him," Grissom summed it all up.

"Yeah. And Franklin's been injured, too. He can't help because he is a victim and he's also the problem. They need to deal with it."

"Which is the problem."

Nick sighed and leaned back. "Wish I knew how to help. I can be there to talk, but it's not helping for real. This is between Ecklie and Franklin. Wish we could help, but we're outsiders."

The older man could only agree. Grissom knew how much Franklin meant to his former nemesis. The vampire had filled a hole that had been violently torn open when Ecklie's lover had been killed over twenty years ago. Tom had been a magic-user, something Ecklie had never known, and because of his heritage he had been eliminated. It had left severe scars on the younger Conrad Ecklie and ever since his career had been his priority. Until Franklin.

Grissom rested a hand on his lover's knee and squeezed it gently. Nick smiled. They would be there as friends, there was no question about it. Nick leaned over and kissed him, then snatched the abandoned Sudoku booklet.

"Mind?" he asked slyly.

"No," Grissom simply answered, smiling.

It got him an easy grin and Nick opened an empty page, attacking the virginal Sudoku puzzle. Grissom returned his attention to the TV program, which had switched from news to a documentary about ants. He briefly glanced at Nick, but the younger man shook his head.

"I'm fine. You just watch."

It had been ever since the kidnapping that Nick had a much greater aversion to creepy crawlers than before, which was rather inconvenient because Grissom was an entomologist and loved bugs. Things had evened out, smoothed over, and Nick didn't flinch away from any kind of roach or beetle, but ants were still a problem.

Grissom left his hand where it was, gently rubbed it over one strong thigh without trying to arouse his lover, and he felt Nick relax.

* * *

There was a rift between them and it was growing by the day. Franklin kept to himself, spent hours either in his office, doing whatever he was doing there, and always accompanied by Cleo, or he left for the night and wouldn't return until morning. Rationally, Ecklie knew that Franklin would never touch him in any way Conrad didn't want him to. He would never hurt him intentionally. He would never attack.

But he had.

A wild creature, primal and without rational thought, had tried to get to his throat.

The sight was burned into Ecklie's mind and whenever he was close to Franklin, he tensed, expecting another attack. Rationally he also knew this had been because of the severe, almost fatal blood loss. He knew it had been the vampire fighting for survival. He also knew that he, as a shaman, could stop him.

But the human was suddenly afraid.

Not even in San Francisco, when he hadn't yet been turned into a vessel for Caine's shamanic powers, Conrad had never feared the other man. They had been in bed together, he had been vulnerable and easy prey, and he had never lost a thought about what Franklin truly was.

Now he did. And it bothered him, scared him, terrified him...

Franklin had grown silent, had pulled away, rarely came to bed before Ecklie wasn't already asleep, or he spent the nights he was actually home on the couch. Ecklie was pained by his lover's behavior, but part of him was relieved that the vampire wasn't too close.

Others had noticed the tension as well, but only two people had actively approached him. One had been Nick, asking if he needed someone to talk to, offering an open ear without judgment. The other had been Nandi. Ecklie had taken Nick up on his offer, over a beer, at a small bar, and Nick had simply listened.

"Fear is normal, Conrad," the younger man said softly. "Grissom isn't a vampire and I can't relate to that aspect of your relationship, but if Gil had been drugged and had attacked me... I think I'd feel the same."

"Drugs leave the system. Franklin is a vampire, Nick."

"And he loves you. He didn't attack you, Conrad. He tried to find blood to survive and you happened to be there. He wasn't specifically trying to kill you."

"I know that." He buried his face briefly in his hands. "I know it, and I know it's just irrational fear, but I can't even let him touch me, Nick. I'm a shaman and I can turn him into a smear on the wall should he ever attack me, but the human being is terrified of the monster."

"Franklin is no monster." There was an edge to Nick's voice and Ecklie looked.

He smiled a little. "No, he isn't." He had defended his lover like this before. "And I still love him. It hurts to be alone, with him there."

"Then jump over your own shadow. Touch him. Let him touch you." Nick leaned forward, dark eyes reflecting deep emotions. "You helped me find my way back after the burial. You helped me survive, Conrad. You are that strong."

And Nick was that strong, too. He didn't recognize his own strength, didn't want to probably, but he was. Ecklie had seen it in him after the ordeal of being kidnapped and buried alive. He hadn't broken. Everything else, the panic attacks and the lingering fear and nightmares, those had been normal. He had worked with Nick to help him come to terms with it all, achieve an inner balance.

He had to do that with himself, too.

Meditate. Face his demons. Face Franklin - who wasn't a demon. He was human, he had suffered, he was still suffering, and he needed his life-partner.

Ecklie nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly. "For listening."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Nick gave him an easy smile, friendly and open.

* * *

Nandi looked at the man sitting in front of her, took in the still rather lined face, the haunted look in the otherwise so lively eyes, and she sighed softly. She knew this day would come, though not like this. She was aware of what was going on, what had happened on a personal level, and she knew it had taken its toll as well.
Franklin had attacked his life-partner and Ecklie had had to defend himself against a primal vampire. It had left scars on his soul and those, on top of this huge decision, were painful.

"It's your choice, Conrad," she said softly.

Nandi reached out and checked her fellow shaman's aura, noting with dismay how weak it still was. He needed some quiet, away from the daily challenge of the Assistant Director, away from the pressure of protecting the two men he worked with, just to regenerate himself.

"I know," Ecklie replied. "And it's the hardest decision I ever have to make."

"You are a shaman. It's a job like every other, but a lot more demanding. Stepping back from your 'real' life is a sacrifice, but it will bring you a lot more peace."

"You are working, too," he grumbled.

"My job may be demanding sometimes, but essentially I'm a shaman undercover."

"And my job is different how?" he demanded.

"You are the AD first, and you are still young, Conrad. You broke your shielding, you are now known to the whole community, and you need to set some time aside for training what you are to defend yourself against larger threats." Nandi leaned forward, compassionate eyes on him. "I did the same. I've been around for over two centuries now. My situation is different."

Ecklie rubbed his forehead, sighing. "I can't make this decision alone."

"No," she contradicted. "It's only your decision to make."

"People depend on me!"

"Grissom and Nick are their own persons. They can take care of themselves," she argued.

Nandi was aware of how protective shamans were, and in Ecklie's case it was because of his close involvement with those two men in question. Nick held a special place, and those two men had supported each other a lot lately. Ecklie was responsible for Nick's mental healing and Nick reacted just as strongly to injuries to Conrad.

"Nandi, please..."

"It's your decision, Conrad. You alone can make it. It's about your life, your future, and essentially your survival."

* * *

It was when Franklin disappeared without a note that Ecklie knew he was losing him, and himself, to this. And that hurt. It hurt terribly and just the thought of separating from the man who was bound to him for life was impossible to pursue.

When he received a call from Salt Lake, he knew things had really gone down the drain.

* * *

Franklin had come to a decision. It had been a decision only he could make and a decision that would hurt not just one, but both of them. In the last days the decline of their relationship had hurt the vampire. Conrad was flinching away from him, refused closer contact, and he was startled several times when his lover approached. It wasn't as if the shaman wouldn't be aware of him, the vampire, but the human was frightened.

It hurt. Franklin couldn't look into those dark eyes and not see the faint shadows of fear and betrayal. He had attacked his lover and it had left deep wounds. As powerful as Conrad Ecklie was as a shaman, he was still human and still feared the monster.

Franklin swallowed, sinking in on himself.

He was a monster. A blood-sucking creature, a primal being that, if cornered, would even sacrifice his own life partner to survive.

That realization had him on the edge, wary of his own actions, and pulling away from human contact as much as Ecklie was avoiding him. It was a vicious circle on both sides and Franklin needed to break it. The only solution he saw was to remove his presence, reduce the threat and the risk, and the only place to go was Salt Lake City. He had to talk to Ezra. The other vampire was his only safe haven in this terrible time, and even if Ezra just kicked him out because of what he had done, it would at least have been worth a try.

So while Conrad was at the Shaman Hotel, Franklin threw some clothes into an overnight bag and called a cab, catching a rather expensive flight to Salt Lake. He didn't care about the money. He needed to do this. Maybe it was a short circuit reaction, maybe it was stupid, idiotic, totally inane, but he had to go. He had to get some distance between them, maybe look at things from another angle, and maybe talking to Ezra would help.

It was in the middle of the day that he arrived at the airport and rented a car. He swallowed the contents of a shake and steeled himself for the long drive. His body was ill-equipped to handle prolonged exposure to the sun, but that didn't matter right now. He couldn't wait till dark. Ezra would probably be at the Grotto then and Franklin didn't want to be around too many people.

Bad luck had it that while he arrived in the daylight hours, Ezra Standish wasn't home. The vampire groaned softly as after the third ring no one answered the door, and he fell heavily against the Victorian façade, closing his eyes. Tremors ran through his body and his mind feverishly tried to find a new way to go.

Maybe he should have called ahead, but talking to Ezra over the phone would probably have had him spill it all. He needed to see him in person.

There was a noise and suddenly the door was opened. Franklin blinked dumbly at the man shooting him a quizzical look.

"Franklin?"

"Uh, hi, Vin," he stuttered. "Ezra's not home?"

"No. He and Chris left early. What are you doing here?"

"I... I came to talk to him, but... it's okay. He's at the Grotto?" He felt slightly faint, dizzy, and the sun was burning his skin.

"Yeah, but I can't let you drive there in your condition. C'mon in."

Vin unceremoniously grabbed him and pulled him inside. Franklin stumbled after him, sighing a breath of relief in the cooler, darker interior of the entrance hall. His body was shaking with the strain of so much sun and the scars hurt. Normally they should have healed by now, but they hadn't. His healing factor had plummeted from vampire to human and he was suffering the consequences.

"You look like hell," Vin commented as he dragged him into the first floor apartment, the one Chris and Ezra shared.

Franklin wanted to protest, but when a shake was pressed into his hand, he drank it greedily. Vin watched him with a steep line of worry on his forehead. The vampire closed his eyes, swallowing a few more times, the blood like the nectar of the gods in his dried out body.

"Thanks," he murmured.

By now Shawn had appeared in the doorway, tail flicking, ears attentive, whiskers spread. She was watching the newcomer closely without a sound.

"You're welcome. You still look like shit. What happened?"

Franklin evaded the quizzical blue eyes, staring at the floor. "Something happened. I... wanted to talk to Ezra about it."

"I can call him," Vin offered.

"No, not necessary. I thought I might catch him here, but..." Franklin trailed off. "I'll just go, okay?"

Vin stopped him with a gentle hand on his forearm. "Not okay, Franklin. What happened?"

"I attacked Conrad," he blurted, then shrank back from his own words and from what he would see in Vin's eyes.

It was surprise, then realization, then compassion and the need to know. Vin nodded at the chairs and Franklin staggered over, sinking on the wooden chair, feeling weak and sick. Shawn was still in the doorway and now came forward, winding around Franklin's legs with a soft purring sound. Her daughter, Cassie, Chris's familiar, hopped onto the table and butted him gently with her head. She was the mother of Cleo, Ecklie's familiar, and like all of her kind she sensed how badly the vampire was off. Cassie couldn't do much about it aside from being there, but she did just that.

Franklin smiled sadly and stroked over the silvery fur. It got him a deep rumbling purr.

"Want me to call Ez?" Vin offered again.

"No... I think it was a bad idea to come here..."

"It wasn't. Does Ecklie know you're here?"

"No."

"Did you leave him a note."

Franklin swallowed hard. "Kinda. Well, no..."

Vin sighed softly. "All right. Do you want to talk about it?"

Franklin hesitated, but part of him needed to get this out, tell someone, explain himself, and right now it was Vin. The werewolf had been around vampires long enough to understand, to hopefully listen to him without judgment. Even if he did judge him... Franklin didn't care any longer.

So he started to talk.

* * *

Vin listened to the explanation, to what had happened in Las Vegas, and with the growing horror came growing understanding. Franklin didn't look at him, just stared blankly at everything but Tanner. When he had finished, he lowered turmoiled gray eyes, as if awaiting a verdict.

Vin got up and carried a second shake over, pushing it into the unresisting hands. Franklin sipped at it without a word. He looked tired and worn.

"You should get some rest," Vin said softly.

"Can't sleep."

"Just lay down on the couch. Can I call Conrad? Tell him you're here?"

Franklin looked torn, then finally nodded slowly. "'kay."

Vin squeezed one thin shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, Franklin. Something like that happened to Ez once, too. He beat himself up over it, but it wasn't his fault either. You wanted to survive."

"By attacking my lover?!"

"Franklin..."

"If Conrad wasn't a shaman he'd be dead now!" the vampire howled, shooting up from the chair and swaying a little.

"But he was and he isn't. What happened was horrible, but it's not your fault. You were shot, for crying out loud!"

"I should have been able to recognize him," Franklin whimpered, slumping.

Vin guided him over to the couch and made him sit. "As strong as a life-partner bond is, survival is the most primal instinct. It's stronger than that. Even in wolves." Vin hesitated for a moment, then added, "I bit Buck when I was trapped and in pain. I bit my lover and turned him into a werewolf. The human inside me was horrified because I knew what he would have to go through. I nearly lost him then and there, Franklin. My emotions were all over the place, but the logical part kept telling me it was unavoidable. I was the animal and my human side was drowning in pain."

Franklin whimpered a little, curling up. Vin touched him reassuringly.

"He fears me," the vampire whispered forlornly.

"Irrationally maybe, but not rationally. He needs to cope with what happened. You need to give yourselves time." He squeezed Franklin's shoulder again. "It took Buck and me months to get back to what we had before the accident."

Franklin closed his eyes, lines around his mouth and eyes that spoke of pain. Vin rose, giving him a last pat, then got out his cell and dialed Ezra. Afterwards he'd dig out Ecklie's number and inform him of his lover's whereabouts.
 

Four cats sat vigil in the living room, two familiars and two the daughters of a familiar. Shawn and Cassie were closest to the restlessly dozing vampire, Peekaboo and Sequoia took up their places around the room, watching, guarding, waiting.

* * *

Nandi's eyes fell on the man sharing the king-sized bed with her, still blissfully asleep and unaware. Slipping on a t-shirt, she padded over to the nude form and ran a gentle hand over the stubbled cheek. Earth magic suffused into the relaxed mind, waking it gently as she caressed him.

"David?"

There was an incoherent mumble and gray eyes blinked open. "Huh? Already?"

"David, I need to go. I'm needed."

Another blink. "What happened?"

"Leo called. He had to reschedule my meeting in Miami."

"Miami?"

She smiled at his sleep-muddled expression, then suddenly he woke more clearly.

"Miami?!"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Now."

He sat up, finally completely awake, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"You didn't mention Miami."

Nandi collected some more clothes, deciding on what to wear. "I wasn't supposed to be there until the end of next week. Business meeting." She shrugged. "You want to come along?"

Nandi had no idea why she was asking. It wasn't like David was in the same kind of business, but the prospect of having him there with her... She was a powerful shaman, but in the last months something had happened to her on a level that had nothing to do with the paranormal she was, but the woman she had always been. Nandi had never considered herself in any kind of relationship because she would always be required to be a shaman first and a woman second. David had changed a lot for her, and he wasn't even a paranormal.

"Miami?" he repeated, looking stunned. "I... I gotta work. I mean... uh..."

Nandi walked over to him and gave him a little kiss. "It's okay, David. I'll be back in two days. Take care of the others for me?"

He answered the kiss and something shivered through her, a kind of intense feeling she had never felt before.

"Love you," she said and watched the by now familiar warmth flush through his expressive eyes. Expressive when the shields were down, when he opened up to her like he did to no one else.

She didn't want to leave Vegas, especially since Ecklie had flown to Salt Lake to find Franklin. Nandi's need to protect was just as strong as Conrad's, but she had been in this job longer and she needed to prioritize. Miami had priority.

"Call when Conrad comes back," she told her lover.

Or when he doesn't, was the unspoken addition.

Hodges had pushed himself up on his elbows. "Will do. Have fun."

She chuckled. "Thank you."
 
 

Nandi left an hour later.

* * *

Ezra had come back home the moment Vin had told him what had happened. Chris had already been off to work and he simply informed his lover of the situation, then told him not to worry. Chris, as usual, did worry, and he would call Las Vegas.

When he came home, it was to Vin greeting him at the door and wordlessly nodding toward the open apartment door.

"He's in a really bad shape. I got two shakes into him, but he looks like run over. He was shot twice, nearly died, lost a lot of blood, and went primal on Ecklie. I think he's also still hurting from the injury."

Ezra's lips became thin lines. For a vampire to heal so badly it meant malnourishment and general sickness.

"Be gentle," Vin advised softly. "He's beating himself up about this enough already."

Ezra shot his friend a dark and slightly outraged look. "He didn't do anything wrong," the vampire only said. "For our kind, losing control can happen in extreme situations. His was very extreme."

"You know that, I know that. But Franklin is in his own personal hell. I nearly had to tie him down to keep him here. He wants to talk to you," Vin told him calmly, "but he's also afraid of judgment."

"I wouldn't judge him, Vin," Ezra replied firmly.

"I know. But you're a community leader, the two of you started out on the wrong foot, you weren't friends until a few years ago, and he's emotionally so off-balance, it wouldn't take much to push him into a major depression."

Ezra smiled. "When did you get a degree in psychology, Mr. Tanner?"

"None needed. Franklin's a mess and I know where he comes from. I've been there with you, remember? I know your history."

Ezra nodded. He was quite aware of that. When he had first met this special group of people so many years ago, it had also been his first encounter with his Sire. He had never known the man until then, and he had hated him right from the start, blaming him for his losses.

"I'm not here as a community leader."

Standish walked into the apartment, sharp senses taking in the soft breathing from the general area of the couch. He noiselessly came closer and looked at the pale blond, noting the signs of malnourishment and injury. Damn, this wasn't good. Franklin emotionally off kilter was one thing. But physical deterioration wasn't a good sign.

Franklin's eyes shot open all of a sudden and he sat up, an arm curled over his stomach, and he shrank instinctively back.

"It's Ezra," Ezra said softly, keeping his voice gentle.

"Uh, hi," the older vampire stuttered.

He looked ragged, Ezra noticed. Ragged and exhausted. He looked at his 'Sire', the man who had accidentally created him, and felt compassion rise. Their animosity and Ezra's downright hatred of Franklin had disappeared and he called him a friend.

"Hello."

"Sorry to bother you. I didn't know..." Franklin broke off, evading the sharp green eyes. "It was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't." Ezra sat down opposite and studied the tired vampire.

"I have no right to bother you with this," Franklin continued, almost as if talking to himself. "I mean, this isn't something that involves you or your community. And I'm not part of it. And I'm not even... I mean..."

Franklin was rambling. He appeared terribly young and unsure, looked bleak and wasted, and Ezra couldn't see the man he had despised for such a long time in him.

"Yes, you aren't part of my community," he answered. "But it concerns me."

"It won't fall back on you," Franklin blurted.

Ezra could have laughed if this hadn't been so serious. Franklin wasn't high enough in any power structure, be it San Francisco which he had left behind, or Las Vegas, where he didn't get involved in anything. Technically, Franklin was his Sire, but that was about where their connection ended.

"It wasn't your fault, Franklin," Ezra went into the frontal attack.

"I should have been able to stop. He's my life-partner!"

"As Chris is mine. As Vin and Buck are my friends, like so many others, but when I was gunned down by a Hawthorne dart, all that no longer registered. You were hit by Hawthorne, too. You know how it burns and hurts."

"This was worse," Franklin argued.

"You were mortally injured. You wanted to survive. Conrad made a mistake coming into the room with an open wound."

"It wasn't his fault!" Franklin snapped immediately, glaring at the more powerful vampire.

Ezra smiled, meeting the enraged gaze. "In a way it was. He was the last straw that broke your back. The doctors made mistakes by letting him walk in. Many little things combined to make this happen, but none of it turns you into the sole responsible person. How are your injuries?"

Franklin sighed. "Hurting now and then."

That didn't sound too good. "How long were you in the sun?"

He got no answer, but that was answer enough. Ezra was a good three decades younger than Franklin, but here Franklin was, seeking help, looking for answers, and Ezra knew that he couldn't be what Franklin needed: his absolution.

"You and Conrad need to talk."

"I can't!"

"Running away won't help."

"I..." Franklin looked helpless.

"Do you think you can just turn your back on him?" Ezra challenged. "I know you love him. You fought for this and he belongs to you like you belong to him. Turning away will tear you apart."

Franklin closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. "I know. It already hurts. He shies away from me and it hurts. He looks at me and I see the fear, and it hurts."

"We all fear the unexpected. Conrad was always aware of what you are, but this is the first time he saw you go out of control. How often has that happened in your life, Franklin?"

"Once," he whispered. "I didn't really lose it, though. I had a matter of control, but the hunger... it was so overwhelming, such agony, and I just acted without thinking."

Pained gray eyes looked at Ezra, layered with memories of a time when Franklin had made his biggest mistake. Ezra nodded his understanding. He had come to terms with his past and he knew that past mistakes had no right to remain in this life. The past was the past. He had dealt with it.

"I could have made the same mistake, Ezra," Franklin added shakily. "Conrad was grazed by a bullet, he was bleeding. I was shot and bleeding. Our blood could have mixed and if I had fed..."

"He's a shaman, Franklin."

"He's human!" the blond cried helplessly.

"Vampires can't turn paranormals into vampires. I could drain JD or Vin or even Josiah and they wouldn't change. Ask Nathan, he wrote a whole paper about it. He believes it's a natural barrier to keep vampires from turning magic-users or even werewolves. That would be a bad mix on a good day."

Franklin grimaced as if in pain and held his stomach. Agitation was flickering through him and Ezra could almost feel it.

"You need to accept that this was an accident, Franklin. You can't destroy what you have with Conrad over this. You both went through too much to break now."

"He is afraid of me."

"You both need to heal. Neither one of you can just shrug it off."

Franklin didn't reply, just stared at the floor, looking lost and alone. Ezra met Vin's clear blue eyes. The werewolf looked sympathetic.

"Get some sleep. Stay here and rest," the vampire offered. "Vin called Vegas to let Conrad know that nothing happened to you. We'll look at things in a few hours, when you're rested."

"Okay," was the soft reply.

"You can have our guest room," Standish went on and rose from the couch. "C'mon. I'll have a change of clothes for you. You're about Chris's built."

Franklin didn't protest, just followed Ezra to the guest room, where he collapsed. Ezra went into their master bedroom, dug out a sweater and sweat pants from his lover, and handed them to Franklin on his return.

"Sleep," he advised.

Franklin gave him a bleak look and nodded. Ezra closed the door and walked silently back into the living room where Vin was still waiting.

"What a mess," Tanner remarked.

Ezra nodded. "I understand his guilt, Vin. I know what I felt. This will need time, and it needs Ecklie. As long as Franklin is convinced his partner hates and fears him, he'll continue to destroy himself. I doubt his wounds have truly healed. He's in too bad a shape to heal properly."

"You think Ecklie should come here?"

"It might be best."

"I'll call him," Vin offered. "You take care of Franklin."

Ezra could only agree. Ever since he had gotten to know the man behind the formerly so arrogant and high-and-mighty façade he had come to care for Franklin. The older vampire wasn't what he pretended to be, and he had long since shed that cover. He had lost his position in San Francisco when what he had done - accidentally create a sireless vampire, leaving him to fend for himself - had leaked to the community.

Back then Ezra had felt a sick kind of satisfaction that the man who had given him this hell of a life had been punished. He had lost everything because a young Franklin had thought he was in control enough to be by himself, because he had left his Sire, because he had stilled his hunger on Ezra Standish. Ezra had found himself buried alive because everyone had believed him to be dead, and when he had clawed his way out of his grave, he had found he was no longer human. He had lost Chris back then, to alcohol and finally to death. He had lost everyone, the group of seven, their friends, everyone and all his belongings. He had been a rogue vampire, lost and alone, unable to understand what had happened.

He had hated Franklin.

Until the day he had truly gotten to know him. It was largely Chris's part. His lover had insisted he give Franklin a chance, that youthful ignorance had punished him enough. And throughout the years now he had looked beyond, had heard about his so-called Sire's past, and he accepted that while there would never be a Sire-Child relationship, something he really didn't want, he could offer friendship.

When Franklin had found his life-partner in San Francisco, when he actually broke off all connection and moved to Vegas with him, and when fought to convince Conrad Ecklie this wasn't just an affair to pass a few years, Ezra's opinion of him had changed once more. Franklin was stronger than he looked, he was generous, he loved, he protected, and he needed Conrad Ecklie in his life. For all his experience of nearly two centuries, he was vulnerable when it came to his lover.

Ezra walked to the guest room again, silent, like the predator he was, and looked at the too thin vampire. Franklin was suffering, and he didn't doubt that Ecklie suffered just the same. This was the worst that could happen to a partnership, and they had to somehow fix it. Life-partners were so totally rare and so very precious. Chris meant everything to him and imagining himself in that situation... it was the stuff nightmares were made of.

Vin approached and stopped several feet away, not wanting to disturb. He nodded at Ezra that he had made the call. Standish closed the guest door, letting the other vampire sleep. He needed to replenish his strength. Badly.

"Coffee?" Vin offered.

"Sure. What did Ecklie say?"

"He sounded bad. Shaken, actually. He said he'd catch the next flight or drive. If he drives, I bet he breaks all speed records."

"He was injured in the shooting, too."

"Yeah. I gave Chris a heads up and he'll call Grissom to get the full story on it."

"Thanks."

They sat down in the kitchen to share coffee.

"Do you have to be in the Grotto tonight?" Vin asked.

"No. Luther can manage. This is more important." Ezra rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I think Nathan should have a look at Franklin, too. He's just been out of the hospital and hasn't continued to heal properly. It can wait till tomorrow, after work, though."

"I can send him an email."

Vin was working from home now, no longer a part of the CSI team since the work for the Nexus was already taking up such a large part of his life.

"KC is coming over after midnight. She and I want to go over the latest figures we were sent."

"You do that. I think I can entertain myself." Ezra smirked.

Vin chuckled. "I bet."

* * *

It hadn't taken much convincing for Ecklie to catch a flight to Salt Lake and drive to Ezra's home. He was on sick leave and no one would ask twice why he was leaving Las Vegas. Grissom, Nick and Greg knew what had happened and understood.

His arm ached when he was finally at his destination. The doctor had told him to keep it in a sling, despite his increased healing abilities. Using the injured arm only kept the healing from taking root. So he used the sling if he had to, but he had refused to take a cab, so the sling had come off.

Ecklie walked up to the door and rang. It was late afternoon and the sun was still shining brightly. He wasn't surprised when Chris opened, and he smiled briefly at the other CSI.

"Hey," Chris greeted him, smiling back. "Come on in."

"Is Franklin...?"

"He's okay. Ezra force-fed him. He slept most of yesterday and last night, and we managed to get him coherent." Chris smiled calmly.

His eyes were on Ecklie's injured arm and the AD shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Sure. Bullet wounds are kids' stuff."

Ecklie grimaced. "I have bigger problems than a few stitches in my arm."

"Hey, I'm just worried," Chris laughed, fending off the bad mood. "Franklin needs you and collapsing on him because you're in pain isn't productive."

"Chris, I'm a shaman. We heal faster, like all paranormals."

"And I'm a vampire and can smell the open wound."

Ecklie's jaw clenched a little. This wound had been what had driven Franklin over the edge.

"He's fed, he's in control, but he's emotionally and mentally depleted," Chris told him. "He won't react to the dried blood or the open wound. What he needs now is the reassurance that you still love him."

"I do!"

"But you also fear him."

Ecklie sighed. "Part of me, yes."

"I understand that fear. Part of every human fears the monster in the unknown."

"Franklin is not a monster and he's not unknown!"

Chris smiled calmly again. "Inside our minds and souls resides a primal being that will do whatever is necessary to survive. We easily keep it under control, but when all shields and shackles are down, it will break through."

Conrad glared angrily at him and pushed past the taller man, intent on seeing his wayward partner. Magic danced around him as his turmoil grew and he forcefully brought it back under control. Chris raised an eyebrow, his fine-tuned senses picking up on the changes.

They entered the apartment and Chris nodded toward the living room, the largest room in the place that had once been two apartments. Chris and Ezra had connected them, giving them shared living space but also the opportunity to retreat and have some necessary private time.

Franklin jumped up when Ecklie walked in, wide eyes on his lover, and Ecklie sensed his fight-or-flight reaction. He let his aura expand, touch the agitated mind, sent warmth and reassurance.

"Hey," he greeted the pale vampire gently.

"Conrad..."

There was hope, there was fear, and there was this need that pulled Ecklie toward the other man like a moth to the flame.

Ezra was already moving into the background and he and Chris were noiselessly leaving the two men to themselves. Ecklie approached, steps firm, unwavering, eyes on his too thin lover. Vampires could lose weight, even when feeding. Franklin hadn't fed regularly, just enough to stave off the hunger. Checking the slender form, he noticed the knot of energy where the stomach injury had been, another smaller knot where the second bullet had entered Franklin's shoulder.

Ecklie reached out and ran a careful, almost exploring caress over Franklin's arm. The vampire stiffened, about to pull back, but Ecklie simply grasped his wrist, shaking his head.

"Franklin," he implored.

Gray eyes were widening, got even wider when he stepped very close. Ecklie let his fingers explore, let them run over familiar lines of a strong forearm, then slide up to caress the upper arm. Franklin swallowed, not making a move of his own.

"Touch me," Conrad said softly.

"Conrad..."

"I love you, Franklin. I don't want to lose you. Please... help me, help us..."

"You fear me," Franklin replied, voice shaking.

"Part of me does," Ecklie admitted. "And it's the part that needs to be touched."

Trembling fingers stroked over his left hand and Ecklie leaned in, holding the wavering gray eyes. He reached for the pale face, felt the cool skin under his touch, and Franklin automatically leaned into it. Conrad smiled.

One hand ghosted over the mauled stomach, caressed the injury through the clothes, and Franklin whimpered as energy touched that knotted place.

"Shhh, it's okay. Let me help you heal..."

He wasn't a healer, but he had learned that particular skill quickly, mainly thanks to his involvement with Nick's recovery. He could give the knots a few pokes and prods, help them unravel, and Franklin's body would do the rest.

"Come with me?" he asked, tugging gently at the still trapped wrist.

He guided him to the guestroom, to the bed, a place they hadn't shared in a long time; ever since the shooting.

"Conrad..." Franklin hesitated.

"Please?"

The vampire looked unsure, but he followed. His face took on a note of surprise when Ecklie pulled him onto the mattress, fully clothed.

"I want to feel you," the shaman murmured, sliding a hand over the firm, slender body.

It was all they did that evening. Touch and caress and feel the other, getting to know a person, a lover, they hadn't touched in weeks. Ecklie felt the tender caresses, closed his eyes and let the shields waver. He trusted this man, he loved him, and there was nothing to fear. Lips pressed little kisses against his jaw, never coming close to his neck, and then their lips met in a very slow, loving kiss. Languid and exploring, like everything else.

Franklin ended up snuggled against him, seeking closeness, shivering now and then as if he was cold. Ecklie let his aura rise, felt the strength he had despite the latest events, and Franklin clenched his hands into the dark t-shirt, inhaling sharply.

"Sorry," Conrad murmured, kissing the blond head.

"No, it's okay. It's nice. Just... like you I can remember."

And he remembered the pain of the attack, the shaman stopping him violently. It could have been a lot worse if Ecklie had let lose completely, but he had been under control.

"I'm glad you are what you are, Conrad," the vampire murmured, drawing a shuddering breath. "You can fight me."

"I don't want to fight you, Franklin."

"You can defend yourself."

He held the slender form tightly, feeling his powers rise once more. Yes, he could defend himself. He could turn Franklin into a very dead vampire if he wanted to, but he wouldn't. It would be a last resort, if all else failed. Nothing could ever get him to hurt his lover intentionally.

He sent gentle warmth at his lover, felt the body relax, and Ecklie smiled a little. They still had a very long way to go, and it would be painful, but he wanted this. He wouldn't lose Franklin.

* * *

When Buck came home from work, he shot his lover a quizzical look. Vin smiled.

"Sleeping. Both of them. In Ezra and Chris's guest room."

"Good. Nathan says he'll be by in two hours. He needs to run a few errands and he thought it might be best to let them sleep if they are."

Vin nodded. "Good."

Buck kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch, yawning.

"Hard case?" Vin wanted to know.

"Stupid suspects, s'all." Buck shrugged. "We'll get one of them for it for sure, the others on accessory. They just don't know when to shut up and when to talk."

"Good. Hungry?"

"Ravenous."

"Frozen pizza?"

"Whatever. I could eat a horse."

Vin chuckled. "Can't offer you horse, but I think there's pork on it."

"Sounds wonderful."

Vin pushed the pizza into the oven and joined his lover on the couch again. The timer would tell when to get out the food before it turned black. Buck pulled him close, kissing him.

"You think they'll work it out?" h asked quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so. It's all a matter of fear and guilt and complexes."

"The usual then."

Vin laughed softly. "Yeah, kinda."

They snuggled until the timer rang and Vin dragged Buck into the kitchen to carry his own dinner plate.

* * *

Ecklie looked at the man so trustingly curled up at his side, as close to the warm body of his human lover as he possibly could. Dark blond hair was tousled and in disarray, some color had returned to the pale cheeks, and Ecklie saw nothing malicious or dangerous in the peacefully resting man. He touched the wavy hair, let strands tickle his fingers, smiling.

He loved Franklin. Deeply. There was no question about that emotion. He couldn't imagine a life without him, without his presence, and the shaman quickly scanned the other being, noticing the still so very grayish aura. That, on top of everything, roused the natural protectiveness of a shaman like nothing else.

"Conrad?"

The sleepy mumble was accompanied by gray eyes opening a little. No silver, no danger, no primal creature. Just Franklin.

Ecklie leaned down and gave the blond a kiss. "Hey. Slept well?"

"Best I had in weeks," was the honest confession.

Ecklie felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't really seen his lover's decline, though he had looked at him every day. As a shaman he was aware of another human being's aura, could read it well to check on personal health, but he hadn't given his lover a single thought. He had been too busy reflecting on the events in the hospital, always shying away from Franklin.

Not any more, he had sworn to himself. This would stop now. He had a responsibility, not just as a shaman, but also as a partner. He had failed miserably in both.
Ecklie carded his fingers into the blond locks and enjoyed the sensation of the silkiness sliding through his grasp.

"Conrad?" Franklin murmured.

"Hm?"

"What's bothering you? Aside from the obvious?"

"And the obvious would be?"

"Me."

Ecklie froze briefly, then sighed. "You're not bothering me, Franklin. I was never truly afraid of you. I just couldn't forget."

"... that I attacked you?"

Shame and guilt mixed in those four words. The vampire evaded his eyes, looking bleak once more.

Ecklie was silent, then leaned down and pressed a kiss against one temple. "You didn't attack me personally. You were trying to survive."

"I could never hurt you," Franklin whispered brokenly.

"I know."

"But I did! I didn't touch you, but you were hurt nevertheless."

Never mind that it had been Ecklie who had hurt the already very weak vampire, had opened whatever the doctors had managed to close prior to his entry into the treatment room. Never mind that his defense had been a bit more than necessary when it came to the magical power output. He had seriously rattled his lover's system and Ecklie wondered if that attack had, in part, something to do with Franklin's current condition.

"Then what...?"

"I talked to Nandi. She said I needed to make a decision about my future."

Franklin stiffened and those sea gray eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Not about my future with you," Conrad soothed him immediately. "I don't have to make a decision there. I will always be with you, no matter what. I love you, Franklin. Unconditionally."

There was warmth in the vampire's eyes and Ecklie smiled. "Then what?" Franklin wanted to know.

"About my powers. They broke Nandi's shielding when I tried to save Nick and myself in the canyon. The shamanic community knows about me. I know I need to train my powers, step back from my life and concentrate on what I am as a paranormal. I know its vital, but I'd leave everything, not just my position as an Assistant Director."

"You worked hard for that," Franklin murmured. "You wanted it and you got it."

"It's no longer as important as maybe five years ago. Something else took that place. You. Grissom and Nick."

"You wouldn't be able to protect them."

"Yes."

"You think you'd have to move away from Vegas?"

"I don't know. Stepping back as the AD... it would create waves. Taking a sabbatical wouldn't work. I don't want to go. Shamans aren't territorial, but with what happened, I am when it comes to people entrusted to me on so many levels."

"Did you talk to Grissom and Nick?"

"Not yet," Ecklie said reluctantly.

"You should. They can't make that decision for you, but they should know."

He nodded in agreement, still caressing the other man. It felt so good to have him close, to finally relax into that familiar warmth.

"Missed you," Conrad whispered.

Franklin leaned up and their lips met in a languid, slow and deep kiss. Ecklie's stomach rumbled and he laughed a little. Franklin smirked, patting him on the stomach.

"Breakfast?" he offered.

"Sounds good. Think Ezra will mind?"

"I doubt he'd mind if we stayed the whole day," Ecklie replied.

They untangled themselves, still touching though, and Ecklie couldn't but claim another kiss. Arousal slithered through him. He wanted this man and he had always wanted him, but the last weeks their sex life had been non-existent. Franklin's eyes reflected a similar state of arousal, but he pulled away, mouthing 'breakfast'. Conrad chuckled.

"Okay, food now," he agreed and his stomach rumbled again.

* * *

Chris had already prepared pancakes, waffles and some other sweet stuff for breakfast, and Ecklie took in it in with raised brows. Ezra only rolled his eyes in fond exasperation.

"Sweet tooth. Can't make him understand that it doesn't do anything for him."

"It does. It tastes great," Chris argued.

"Uh-huh."

Franklin took the offered shake from Ezra's hands and drank it slowly, then stole a pancake from Conrad's plate. Ecklie gave him an exasperated look.

Nathan came half an hour later, when stomachs had already been filled, and Franklin groaned.

"Oh please! I'm fine. Really!"

It only got him a stern look from his lover and from Ezra. Franklin ducked his head and sighed. He relented. Nathan had him strip off his t-shirt in the living room, then palpated the still visible scarring. The scars should have disappeared by now, made invisible by vampire healing ability, and Franklin should have looked healthier.

Ecklie watched the examination with worried eyes and immediately joined his lover when Nathan stepped back. The verdict was more rest, regular shakes, and even more rest. Inquisitive hands touched the vampire and Franklin gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, Conrad. No pain. Not any more."

Ecklie's eyes were briefly on the now again hidden scar. "You're not yet fine," he said quietly, not vacating his spot in Franklin's private space.

He brushed his lips over Franklin's, then smiled at the warm expression in the gray eyes. One hand came to brush over the hidden scar, sending warmth into the knotted area, and Franklin briefly closed his eyes at the sensation.
 

Ezra watched the loving interaction and Chris joined him.

"They'll be okay," Larabee murmured.

"I hope so."

* * *

Ecklie and Franklin stayed for another day, then flew back to Las Vegas. Ezra really hoped they could work this out.

A hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing it, and Ezra turned to meet his lover's concerned gaze.

"They'll be okay," Chris repeated once more.

"I know," Ezra replied. "Franklin needs him."

Chris nodded and pulled him to the couch where they snuggled together. Ezra knew he'd worry for a while longer, until he could call and talk to Franklin. He truly hoped things would be all right

* * *

Las Vegas was located right in the middle of a desert, but that didn't mean it wouldn't rain once in a while. Usually the rain came down in sheets, flooded roads that were ill-prepared to handle so much water, and some of them turned into lakes or rivers.

Nick was glad to be home and able to watch the thunder shower from the safety of his home. His and Gil's house was located at the end of a lonely stretch of road and while they rarely flooded, this looked like one of those rare times. He wouldn't want to brave this weather for anything but an emergency call.

A loud clash of thunder seemed to shake the very building and Nick watched the spectacular light show from behind the terrace sliding doors.

"Beautiful," Grissom remarked as he stepped up behind him.

"Hm. Nature," Nick only replied.

Arms slid around his waist and Grissom rested his chin on his lover's shoulder. "Spectacular," he murmured.

They watched, enjoying each other's closeness. Grissom's lips brushed over Nick's exposed neck and Nick turned his head, smiling lazily. Grissom's eyes were twinkling, inviting, and Nick took him up on the invitation. He turned in the loose embrace and met the inquisitive lips.

Outside, the thunder moved into the distance, into the mountains, while the rain remained, pounding down. For the two men, it was no longer of interest.

* * *

Things had smoothed over. The press was no longer haunting either the CSI or the mayor's office, and Conrad Ecklie had returned to his lab to the welcoming nods and greetings of his people. It was strangely touching and the shaman spent a lot of time just fending off well-wishers. Grissom smirked to himself.

Franklin had picked up where he had left off at the Inca hotel where he worked as a personnel manager. His wounds had healed, just like Ecklie's, even if there were scars on his soul that still needed to disappear. Both men were working on that, but it was a slow process.
 

When Franklin arrived at his office his secretary greeted him with a smile and a cup of tea - not that he had ever asked her to make tea for him, she simply did, and she did know how, too. He didn't like the brew some people called coffee, though he enjoyed a good Espresso every now an then. He assumed his liking of tea stemmed from the British roots he still had - very deep down somewhere, even if John McDermott, Plymouth dockworker, drug addict and male prostitute, had died a very long time ago. The vampire thanked her with a smile of his own and disappeared into the office to see to his daily routine.

Sipping his tea - finest Orange pekoe, first flush, he noticed - Franklin skimmed through his mail, raising his eyebrows when he picked up an envelope with a very familiar handwriting. The envelope had been delivered by courier just an hour before, and when he opened it and shook the contents into his waiting hand, there was only a small note attached to the hotel room keycard saying: "8 p.m. Sharp. You don't want to keep me waiting. "

His brows rose even more and he searched the envelope, but found nothing else.

What the heck...?

But there was a trickle of excitement, too. He'd play along and see what happened.

* * *

Franklin slid the keycard through the lock, hearing it click open softly. Entering the room the first thing greeting him was - darkness. Not to vampire senses, it wasn't, but Franklin had expected otherwise.

"Come in."

The voice was soft, holding a purring undertone, beckoning him inside within a second. The door snicked close behind him and he walked a few steps deeper into the room.

"Close your eyes. I don't want to blind you."

Following the instruction Franklin heard a soft whoosh, sensing something had brightened the darkness, something that sounded and smelled a lot like ...

"A fireplace?" he asked, blinking in both confusion and awe.

In the middle of the room - well, suite was more like it - was a hollow, surrounded by a small stonewall with something like artificial wood blocks, a fire crackling and dancing over them, along with what looked like at least two dozen candles illuminating the rest of the room. Warm wooden walls, earthy colors, animal coats decorating both walls and floor, large plants, some spears and shields as well as some tribal masks and other African native stuff adorned the walls and furniture which looked as if it was partly carved out off dark, almost black wood.

One wall of the room was dominated by a large king-sized bed place covered by lots of pillows, blankets and even a leopard fur - artificial, of course. Soothing but lascivious music with soft dark voices and low beats completed the impression, letting a sensation of subtle warmth wash over him.

"The Massai Suite? How...?"

"I happen to know the manager," the soft voice chuckled in his ear from behind.

Arms came around him, fingers dancing over his stomach, adding to the overall sensation that was slowly concentrating in his more southern areas. Franklin sighed softly and leaned back into the embrace, feeling the fingers slip under his shirt, a pair of lips descending on his neck.

"I always wanted to see Africa," Franklin murmured.

"I know. Steppe, desert, sun...?"

"Yeah, I know. So?"

"Blood condition?" Ecklie reminded him.

"I can cope."

"No, you can't. Let's not have this discussion now. There are many things we can do instead. Are you thirsty?"

The fingers tickling his abdomen retreated and Franklin noticed the wooden tray beside the bed, laden with snacks and fruits and some delicacies like crabs and prawns, little skewers with meat and fruits and some dips and...

"Conrad - oysters?"

"Baked. Nothing wrong with a little cliché every now and then, don't you think?"

Conrad Ecklie smiled at him and offered him a crystal glass with a deep red liquid.

"For me or for you?" Franklin chuckled and took a sip of the wine - with a little addition, he noticed - watching his lover recline on the spot-patterned fur.

Most people would look at Conrad Ecklie, see an average, balding man in his early to mid-forties wearing ties and suits, with crow feet around the eyes and sometimes some worry lines around his mouth; dismiss him as the regular nine-to-five office worker and not give him a second glance. Franklin knew otherwise - he, too, saw the receding hairline and the suits, but he knew what was underneath, well hidden beneath dress shirts and silk ties. Conrad Ecklie was in fact a very fit man, with just the right amount of muscle, not sporting a defined six-pack, but not soft either.

Franklin knew the sense of humor, the tenderness and deep caring Conrad Ecklie was capable of, the equally sharp mind and tongue - and of course all the other things nobody but him would ever get to know. Being in a life bond with a shaman sometimes had its advantages, too. Said shaman was watching him closely, a tell-tale spark in his brown eyes, while he reached for an oyster.

"Are you going to join me anytime tonight?" Ecklie asked.

Franklin looked down at the man on the bed, the faint smile his lover was sending into his direction, the flickering of the flames reflecting in his eyes and giving him an almost - vampiric aura? Ecklie pulled the baked oyster out of its shell and swallowed it, his gaze not wavering for a second.

"Come here," he whispered and Franklin felt himself slide down to his lover's side, mesmerized by the entire atmosphere Ecklie had created.

The shaman pushed him down gently and leaned in for a kiss, and Franklin didn't hesitate for a second. Surprisingly his senses were flooded with sensations - a trickle of cold, sparkling champagne, the taste of oysters and strawberries with hot pepper, a rush of pheromones that seemed to go into his head within ten seconds, silky fur underneath his fingers, the hard body above him...

Franklin gasped when Conrad broke the kiss, sucking in a lungful of air.

"Here, try this."

 Conrad held a skewer with steaming meat to his lips and Franklin pulled a bit off. The strange spicy flavor filled his mouth and he chewed slowly, savoring each bite.

"What is this? I've never tasted anything like it."

"Secret shaman recipe," Conrad retorted with a smile, stealing another kiss before offering a slice of fruit.

Franklin relaxed into the soft pillow, enjoying the music, the pampering, the presence of his lover. He ran his eyes over the exposed chest, the sparse hair he liked to play with, and he took the offerings, smiling.

There was something powerful to this man. Not political power. It was natural, residing inside him, had maybe always been there and had been enhanced by Caine's inheritance. Shamanic power didn't just seek out anyone and turned him into a shaman. There were requirements and one was an ancestry line that allowed such a great responsibility. Ecklie had such a line, an Irish ancestry that qualified him, but his paranormal genes had never broken through in any form. Now he was a shaman, a secondary choice, but a first rate shaman anyway. The power didn't differentiate between primary and secondary. It evaluated the compatibility. And Ecklie had been compatible.

Franklin curled his hand around the strong neck and pulled his lover into another kiss, tasting fruit and meat. Conrad's whole presence was intoxicating and it had nothing to do with magic or where they were. When they had met in San Francisco, the vampire had been interested, then had fallen in love. Their bond didn't care about looks or race or gender. Life-bonds were extremely special and very rare among vampires. And the vampire himself didn't care about the looks either. Never had.

He deepened the kiss and was about to push for more when Ecklie drew back.

"Conrad?" he asked.

"Shh... just lie back and let me seduce you. This is for you," Conrad whispered and Franklin had a hard time not to moan at the words.

He felt his arousal flare with a vengeance, his need rise. Conrad's hands were roaming over his body, slowly, sensually, sliding underneath and pushing away clothes, a tender and tantalizing massage. The low drums in the background, the feeling of silky fur and naked skin on his body, the flickering of fire and candles on the coats and shields on the wall giving the whole scene a strangely erotic atmosphere.

Franklin closed his eyes, gasping at the teasing, feather-like caresses. His skin prickled, burned, needed this touch, and he mourned the loss of the sensual touches when Ecklie drew back once again.

Conrad materialized a little vial, dripping some droplets onto his palm. The scent told Franklin the glistening liquid was oil, massage oil probably. His lover repeated the earlier moves, but this time the hands that were touching him were slick with oil. Gliding over his body like countless times before, yet strangely different, it made the vampire sigh and arch slightly, seeking the contact.

Gawd... he thought. This was incredible. They had been a couple for a long time now, but this was a first for Franklin, even in his very long life as a vampire. He had never been seduced like this, had always enjoyed a fling and then left for new hunting grounds. With his life-partner things had settled down, but had never been boring. There had been tender love, rough tumbles between the sheets, need and hunger and sensuality and loving, all of it. Never like this.

"Conrad..." he breathed.

"I'm here," was whispered into his ear and the broader body pressed against him,

Ecklie urged him to turn on his back once more and he did, inhaling sharply at the sight of so much naked skin. Franklin wanted to reach out and touch, but it was denied. Conrad pushed his hands down, looming over him, smiling seductively, almost hungrily.

"You look like a human sacrifice ready for the taking," Conrad murmured roughly and somehow it sent shudders through his body.

Pulling up his knees and spreading his legs wider Franklin slowly put his hands over his head, crossing the arms at the wrists as he watched Conrad watching him. There was no rope binding him, no shackles or chains holding him down, just the heated look from brown eyes, and his own free will.

"Franklin?"

"Do as thou want, I'm at thy mercy," he whispered.

And, strangely enough, he found he really meant it. Conrad could do anything to him now - he wouldn't even try to fight.

And then the touch was back, slowly ghosting over his skin, teasing, arousing, almost prickling, making him moan involuntarily with the strength of its power. When Franklin looked at the hands gliding over his ribcage and chest his eyes widened in shock - where Conrad had touched him faint golden remnants of energy were visible, dancing over his skin like reflections of light on water, before they faded slowly into his body, creating the most intense feelings and reactions.

Almost like a vampire's hunt...

Franklin didn't get the chance to complete the thought because those hands had reached his thighs, dipping between his legs, further and further, into him, around him... his head fell back and he cried out in shock at the jolt that ran through his body when he reached something that felt very much like a climax, but didn't stop there.

"Let go," Ecklie whispered.

Franklin swallowed hard. "Conrad..."

"You can't hurt me. Let go..." He pushed deeply into the tight heat and Franklin groaned.

Everything around him was heady, dizzying, pulling him along and breaking down his carefully erected walls.

Ecklie leaned forward, capturing his lover's lips in a hungry kiss. Franklin whimpered and when his eyes opened, there was a flare of silver. The shaman responded to it, meeting the vampire, and Franklin gasped as he felt the power thrum through them. His hips pushed back, wanting to be closer, deeper, wanting more. He keened softly, still fighting, but it was too powerful. Ecklie was too powerful, too dominant in his demands.

Franklin felt the incredible magic of his lover, his life-partner, his Conrad, and it was a rush. A total and utter rush of everything that wanted to drown him in such exquisite pleasure, Franklin gave in. the vampire in him broke free, opened up and let the other, much stronger and more powerful being take him, and his cries echoed in the room. Eyes turned from sea gray to silver metallic, glowing with the creature inside him that confronted the shamanic power with vigor and hunger of its own.

Conrad quickened his pace, driving harder into the willing body beneath him, and one hand tugged at the straining arousal of his lover. Franklin suddenly cried out, eyes a bright silver as he came over his lover's hand.

Hands ripped into the mattress, muscles spasmned with the uncontrollable orgasm that didn't want to end, and he whimpered softly as his already heightened senses were flooded by the energy contained in the vessel that was Conrad Ecklie.

Ecklie pushed once, twice, a third time and came just as hard, groaning Franklin's name. The vampire moaned, body trembling and shaking with the aftershocks and when he opened his eyes, it was to a sight he had never seen before.

Conrad was still leaning over him, surrounded by a powerful aura of energy that made even his eyes... glow. The vampire shrank back in fear, but the human soul in Franklin recognized the beauty in what he saw, the complete control and still so much hunger and need and love. One trembling hand reached up and was caught by strong fingers.

Ecklie leaned forward and kissed him. It was like sparks erupting between their lips, like kissing power. Franklin hungrily answered the dominating kiss, the vampire bowing to the shaman.

"I love you," Ecklie whispered, voice rough. "I love you."

Franklin pulled him close, feeling weak but so very, very sated. He didn't want to move, didn't want this to end, didn't want to lose the connection to his life-partner, but when Ecklie lay down, his softening erection slipped free. The vampire whimpered with the loss. He nuzzled the sweat slick neck. There were no teeth involved, just a gentle kiss against his pulse point, something Franklin had done so often before.

"This was... is... incredible," he managed after a moment. "You never... you never did this before."

Dark eyes looked at him and Franklin gazed at the unnaturally colored irises, golden sparks in their depth. The gray and dark blue and whatever color else resided in those eyes were enhanced, unnatural, magical.

"I wanted this to be special," Ecklie murmured, caressing the sated, spent form.

"It was. Like a hunt... like... so much more..."

"And you could let go."

He glanced at the mess that had been the bed and a light blush crept up his cheeks. Franklin had never used the hunting skill on his human lover because it could get out of hand, it could hurt Conrad, but after tonight...

"Shamanic energy," he murmured.

"Yes."

"I never felt it like this." Franklin felt his body slowly coming down from its high and a pleasant lethargy settled in.

"I never let it out."

Ecklie leaned forward and kissed him, the overpowering presence gone. This was only Conrad again, the shamanic energy safely bottled.

"Even if you lose it... I can defend myself," the shaman added softly and looked into the gray eyes.

Franklin swallowed. He believed it. Now he did. No vampire had a chance against this kind of magic. He raised a hand and placed it on his lover's chest, over his heart, feeling the reassuring thump. Warmth seeped into his palm and Franklin smiled.

He wrapped his arms around the shaman and pulled him close, trailing his lips over the flushed skin, feeling small trickles of energy. Conrad sank down next to him, pulling him into his arms. Franklin was too lethargic and spent to do more than snuggle up and let his body fall into the much-needed sleep. He listened to his lover's heartbeat, his breathing, felt the reassuring power around them, and smiled to himself.

"Love you," he murmured.

The answer was a loving kiss to his temple.

* * *

Ecklie had been the first to wake and he smiled at the peacefully sleeping man at his side. Franklin looked adorable and he couldn't but kiss him gently. Franklin murmured something and dug deeper into the covers. Ecklie let him rest, aware that last night had been draining for the vampire. Shamanic energy was powerful and demanding, and he had felt the pull himself. He had triggered the vampire and had looked into the brightly glowing eyes, meeting at the same being that had attacked him, but this time the hunger and need had been sexual. There had been no violence, just love.

Conrad walked into the shower and let the warm water pound his skin, feeling pleasantly relaxed and very much aware of himself, his powers, everything around him. He had never truly released this magic in a controlled way. Actually, he had never released them like this at all. The only time his powers had broken through and in the wake of it destroyed Nandi's shields around him had been in the canyon. He had saved Nick and himself, but now he was known to the shamanic community.

He turned off the water and toweled himself off. When he walked back into the main suite, it was to a more or less awake Franklin who regarded him like a sleepy cat.

"You're up," he murmured.

"Very perceptive."

"And you showered already."

Conrad walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, leaning over to kiss his lover.

"You're wet," Franklin murmured, running his fingers through the wet strands.

"Want to have breakfast?" Conrad asked, smiling.

"In bed?" Franklin asked hopefully.

The shaman chuckled. "You really think you're up for anything right now?" he teased.

Franklin smirked. "Wanna find out."

The next kiss was deeper, exploring, and Franklin hummed in appreciation.

"Food first," Conrad said softly. "Then we'll see about that libido of yours."

"It's a bit sore, but it's still very attracted to you," Franklin replied seductively.

Ecklie chuckled. "Food," he insisted.

"Spoil-sport."

Franklin got up and winced a little as not only his backside but a lot more muscles complained. Ecklie smiled. Apparently shamanic magic colliding with vampire power left even quickly healing beings with muscle soreness.

After a shower Franklin got dressed and joined his already ready lover. Ecklie drew him into another kiss, his aura expanding, surrounding them like a warm blanket, and Franklin fought back his reaction to it.

"Don't," Conrad murmured, quite aware of what he was doing.

"Conrad..."

Again the flare and this time Franklin let the vampire rise, inhaling sharply at the heightened sensation of his lover so close by.  Ecklie smiled calmly.

"Love you," he said gently. "All of you. You would never hurt me."

Franklin put a lid on his reactions and pushed the vampire back where it belonged. "Never," he echoed. "Thank you."
 
 

They did get out of the room, but not before the kisses had grown dangerously close to arousing and nearly thwarted their efforts for food.

The Shaman Hotel was a Las Vegas casino, but it also catered to the paranormal, so Franklin had no trouble getting a shake before he had a breakfast that, while it wouldn't give him any nourishment as blood did, tasted great and he enjoyed it.

They were just done when Nandi stopped at their table, smiling. "I see you two are fine," she commented, an appraising eye on Ecklie.

The younger shaman knew she could read the strength of his aura, its health, and he knew that last night had contributed greatly.

"And a good morning to you," Conrad replied.

She smiled more. "I have booked the suite for another two days for you. I think the healing should be completed."

Nandi turned, gallantly ignoring the blush on Franklin's features, then stopped and looked back at them.

"And Conrad, if David gives you strange looks... ignore him. Shamanic energy is quite... stimulating..."

"W-what?" he stuttered.

She smirked. "We were in the room next door. While the suites are sound proof, energy travels. Shamans can ignite passion, as you know. They can influence other paranormals, and humans, too."

Ecklie felt his own blush appear and when he looked at his lover, Franklin smirked knowingly, playing with the last of his scrambled egg on the platter.

Nandi walked away, her smile wide, and Ecklie sank back into the seat. "Great..."

"Sex machine," Franklin remarked sotto voce.

"Oh, shut up!"

"Hey, you didn't just get me off... you even got Hodges off."

"That's an image I didn't want to have, thank you very much!"

Franklin's smile was unrelenting, teasing, but also filled with a warmth that had been missing in the past weeks. They finished breakfast, strolled through the bustling casino, enjoyed just being themselves, being with each other, and without pressure on them from anywhere.

Ecklie still had a decision to make, but that would take time. More time than just a few weeks where all his focus had been on his lover. He had to talk to Franklin again, about this decision. And he had to talk to Grissom and Nick. Maybe there was an intermediate way. Maybe there was no solution to his problem at all.

Whatever happened, right now it wasn't important. Right now, only they counted.

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