Title: Evidence Confirmed
By: Macx (with Lara Bee)

He had been back to work for two weeks now, catching up on proceedings, cases and general bureaucracy. Gil Grissom saw more of Conrad Ecklie in those two weeks than he had in the same amount of time before Ecklie had taken his time off. Before he had been exposed to the world of the paranormal. Before he had made the jump from career horse to human being. The new and improved Ecklie, as Nick had remarked once, was a lot more balanced, open, accessible, and downright pleasant. He had taken over dayshift without much trouble. His stand-in, Vincent Kramer, was on his best way for a transfer to Phoenix to his own team of criminalists. Both men worked in conjunction until Ecklie was up to speed on everything.
The whole lab had been gossiping about Ecklie's return. All except the three men who knew the truth - Nick, Grissom, and Greg Sanders. Due to the smooth proceedings, gossip died down soon after the first week was over and dayshift was running normally. No one in the team was making any problems and the cases were handled as professionally as before.
The local sheriff, Brian Mobley, as well as some other higher placed officials, felt the change in Ecklie a lot more pronounced. Gone was the man who wanted to make nice with everyone to further his career. Gone was the hard, cynical opponent of Gil Grissom. Gone was the man who had seen his job as a career opportunity.
Grissom approved. A lot. Conrad Ecklie was a competent man, a scientist with a lot of dedication to his job, and he had finally, throughout that year of absence, found the focus he had been looking for.
In the third week of the dayshift supervisor's return, Grissom and Nick found themselves outside Ecklie's townhouse. It was a Saturday morning, just past nine a.m., and both men had gotten off their shift an hour earlier. Ecklie had actually invited them over for a coffee after shift and Grissom had expected a casino or a restaurant - not an invitation to his home.
"Nice place," Nick remarked, looking at the white house.
It was at the end of a dead end street and had no immediate neighbors. To the left was what looked like a former office or shop, now closed, and to the right a large garden stretched to the next house. Judging from the fences and tall plants, it wasn't Ecklie's garden but the neighbors.
Ecklie's Tahoe was parked in the driveway.
Nick rung the bell and both waited.
The door was opened by a tall, slender, blond man, dressed in jeans and a dark t-shirt. Gray eyes looked at them, smiling.
"Uh," Nick started.
"Come on in," the blond said. "Conrad said you'd be dropping by."
"And you are?" Grissom asked, straight-forward as usual.
"Franklin," was the pleasant reply.
And that was about all they got as an introduction.
Grissom walked past the blond, curious eyes examining both the man and the interior of the house. Nick followed, mystified.
Ecklie was in the kitchen, a large, terracotta tiled room with sliding doors that led to a small garden, no larger than Nick's. He smiled when the two men entered, appearing relaxed, totally at ease. Like Franklin, he was leisurely dressed. It was another change Grissom had become aware of. The suits mostly stayed home now. Except for official court appointments, his dayshift counterpart had chosen to appear in less constricting outfits. Together with his new attitude, it puzzled a lot of people.
"Gil, Nick. Good morning."
"Thank you for the invitation," Grissom replied, still curiously looking over everything as if he was in the middle of a crime scene.
"I thought it would give us some time to catch up," the other criminalist replied. "There was no time at work. It's currently a chaos in there."
Nick chuckled. "Yeah, Kramer mentioned it. You came back to some really bad cases."
Ecklie grimaced. "The cases aren't the problem, the bureaucracy is. I knew there was something I hadn't missed in San Francisco. Coffee?"
"Decaf," Grissom decided.
Nick nodded his agreement. They were planning to get some sleep when they got home.
Franklin walked past Ecklie and opened the fridge, pulling out what looked like a plastic juice bottle. It wasn't labeled and white, so there was no way to see the contents. Ecklie just glanced at him with a mild frown and received a slight smile in return.
"I'll be in the office. Still need to get the laptop working," Franklin said calmly. "Dr. Grissom, Mr. Stokes, nice to meet you."
And with that he was gone.
Grissom shot Ecklie a curious look and received a smile in return, but no explanation. Apparently Franklin knew enough about Grissom to address him by his academic title, something Gil never insisted on having people do.
Coffees in hand, the three men walked over to the living room where they sat down on the couch, sipping their hot drinks. Ecklie was gazing at the table for a moment, then met their eyes.
"I suppose you're curious about the past year?"
Grissom's face was unreadable. "You took personal time, Conrad."
A smile. "Yes, in a way. I took personal time to come to terms with what you told me about Tom... and about yourselves."
"And have you?" Nick wanted to know.
"In more ways than one. I laid a demon to rest."
Grissom nodded. "Good."
"I also came to terms with who I am, got an outside view of my past life, and I found that while it's rather fantastic, knowing about the paranormal world isn't as life-altering as I had thought. It takes getting used to..."
Nick smiled slightly. "Tell me about it."
Ecklie shrugged, amusement on his features. "I believe it was even worse for you. I'm honored you trusted me enough to tell me."
"You had a right to know."
"By risking your exposure?"
Grissom met the dark eyes evenly. "Yes."
"Who'd have believed you anyway?" Nick added, also serious, no laughter in his voice. "Vampires, witches... people who are almost immortal?"
A nod. "Yes, it'd have been hard to be heard without being labeled a nutcase," Ecklie confessed, turning the almost empty mug in his hands. "But you could have just made up a story about Tom's death... his murder."
Blue eyes gazed calmly at him. "I don't believe in lying to my friends in such personal matters," Grissom simply answered.
Ecklie nodded silently. "Thank you," he said softly.
And they continued to talk.
Mostly Ecklie anyway. About San Francisco, about his decision to come back, about turning his life around - about wanting to live that life, not waste it chasing a career he no longer saw as a priority.
He didn't explain Franklin.

       * * *
 
Leaving the townhouse almost two hours later, Nick stifled a yawn. They walked to the Tahoes parked on the street. Nick leaned against his and caught Grissom's eye.
"You think Ecklie and Franklin are an item?" he asked.
Grissom shot him an unfathomable look and smiled angelically. "What if they were?"
Nick grinned widely and opened the door. "I'd say good for him and he has taste."
That got him raised eyebrows. "Who? Conrad or Mr. Franklin?"
Nick's grin widened and he got into the car, starting the engine. He was the first to pull out, closely followed by Grissom, who was chuckling.

       * * *
 
Ecklie stood at the window and watched his two colleagues leave. It had felt good to talk, to explain his decisions to his colleague, and to simply have some friendly time with Grissom and Nick. Within a few months at work and a year away from it all, Conrad Ecklie had turned around 180 degrees, especially when it came to his old graveyard shift rival. Gil Grissom was a fascinating and deep man, someone whose friendship Ecklie valued, and he was glad he had made that fateful discovery about Nick and Grissom being a couple that one night. It had led to this, to a closure in his own life, and a new beginning.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and he automatically leaned back against his lover.
"They didn't ask?" Franklin wanted to know, equally looking out of the window onto the now empty street. His chin rested on Ecklie's shoulder.
"No."
"You think they suspect?"
Ecklie chuckled. "Grissom knows about my sexual orientation. Nick, too. Now they find an attractive man in my house. Go figure."
A nibble. "Attractive, hm?"
He closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle kisses and little teasing nibbles. "Very."
He had found Franklin handsome and damn attractive from day one, when the other man had accidentally spilled his drink on him. Yes, it had been an accident, not some kind of blundering come-on. And against his wildest dreams, this handsome man had started to date him - and more.
Franklin tightened his hold. "You going to tell them?"
"If one asks, yes. This is my private life."
Another nibble, then strong hands slid under the loose t-shirt and Ecklie covered them with his own.
"I thought you were working on your laptop," he murmured, enjoying the caresses.
"I'm done. Everything's working fine."
"Ah."
"I thought we'd enjoy some quality time together. It's a weekend, you're not on call, I don't have to be at the Inca..."
"I like the idea."
"Thought you would."
Ecklie turned in the embrace and caught Franklin's lips, kissing him. The kiss was returned with hunger and those nimble fingers slipped under his t-shirt and over his back.
They didn't try to make it to the bedroom.
Actually, the couch was just fine.

              * * *
 
It was another week later that found Grissom facing Franklin in the middle of the criminalistics lab - in his office. This time the leisurely look had been replaced by a business suit. It didn't help make the other man look older, but now he had an almost crisp air around him.
"Mr. Franklin," Grissom greeted the man standing in the doorway to his office. "Can I help you?"
Franklin smiled. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
"Actually, you are."
Another smile. "Conrad mentioned you're a direct man."
"So my direct question would be, what do you want?"
Franklin walked into the office and closed the door. Grissom's brows twitched slightly higher.
"I came by to pick up Conrad after his shift, but he was called out to a new case, so I've got some spare time. You're already in, so I thought I'd have a talk with you."
"About what exactly?"
Another smile. "You're a curious man, Dr. Grissom. I know you wanted to ask me questions the moment I opened the door when you came over to our place."
Our place, Grissom noted. So his suspicion had been correct. Ecklie had found someone and they were living together. Quite a jump from twenty years of hardly a relationship to living together with someone Grissom had yet to pin down. Something about Franklin made him more than curious. It wasn't the appearance that suggested he was younger than Ecklie. Who was Grissom to say anything? Nick was fifteen years his junior. At least he had been when they had met. Since the Phoenix regeneration in Salt Lake City, the age difference had gone down to nine.
"Yes, I did," he now said openly.
"So ask."
Gil tilted his head a little, trying to get a handle on the blond. "Where did you two meet?"
"In San Francisco. I lived there."
"Past tense?"
A nod. "I moved here when Conrad decided he wanted to return to work."
"Quite a step."
"No, not really. Not for me."
"You work in Las Vegas now?"
"At the Inca. I'm the personnel manager. Dayshift."
Grissom noted how relaxed the other man sat in his chair, hands folded, leaning back, completely at ease - answering questions about himself and his relationship with Conrad Ecklie.
"I suppose you've got a problem seeing me in a relationship with Conrad, correct?" Franklin now asked.
"Conrad is my friend and colleague," Grissom replied mildly. "It's simple curiosity."
"Because his last relationship ended badly or because he hasn't been in a serious one since then?"
So this was serious? Grissom mused. And why did Franklin make it sound like he was a protective friend?
Because, a part of him realized, it was what he was. Ecklie had been hurt badly in the past, he had had the shock of his lifetime just a year ago. Not only about the true cause of his lover's death, his murder, but also about the reality of the paranormal world. While they had never seen eye to eye, Ecklie had been a respected colleague. The respect had turned into sympathy at his past history. Ecklie had actually protected him and Nick, had been a friend, and the sympathy had slowly morphed into acceptance and then friendship.
"Don't worry, Dr. Grissom. I'm not going to hurt Conrad. And I'm not going to leave him for the next best set of legs and ass either," Franklin said bluntly. "I love him."
"It's a common phrase."
"No, not for me. Believe me."
"Others have said the words."
"Only one, Dr. Grissom. Thomas Morrison. He had to die because of who and what he was. Before you ask, I know about Tom. Everything."
Grissom's eyebrows rose. "Everything?"
"Yes, he told me. About Tom, about his life, about you. He's your friend and I'm his lover. And like Tom, I'm a paranormal."
The open, simple words hit something inside Grissom, but on the outside, only his rising eyebrows spoke of his shock. A paranormal? Either Ecklie was a magnet for them or it was just coincidence. And being a paranormal could mean a lot of things. From a magic user and Sidhe descendant to a werewolf or a...
"I'm a vampire, Dr. Grissom."
Grissom's eyebrows shot up. Okay... vampire...  Vampire!
"Conrad knows?" he asked evenly, keeping his surprise under wraps.
"Yes. And I gave him the choice when he found out."
"What choice?"
To be turned? part of him wanted to know, aghast, but he didn't voice it.
"To leave because of what I am or to continue what we had become."
"And what are you, Mr. Franklin?"
"Partners," was the simple reply, "lovers and friends."
Grissom studied the blond man in front of him, fascinated by the concept of vampirism anew. He had met vampires before, all kinds, all ages, but never had one been involved with someone he now considered a friend. The scientist in him wanted to study this infliction, this blood condition as Ezra Standish had called it. Dr. Nathan Jackson had given him his research about vampirism and it was a fascinating topic. Especially since the movie industry was so wrong about them. Then again, the vampires had planted the fake stories to protect themselves, so go figure.
Still...
Ecklie and a vampire. A vampire who claimed he loved him. A vampire who... worked dayshift hours as the personnel manager at the Inca?
Grissom knew a lot about vampire communities, had read up on them and he had asked Nandi, the local shaman. For Franklin to have moved here, he had to announce his presence to the community and its leader. Many vampires worked normal jobs, but mostly nights.
"I find it interesting that you chose a daytime job with your... condition."
Franklin gave him an open smile, not the least bit unsettled by the change of topics. "That way we work the same hours. I didn't want this to be some kind of weekend relationship. It means too much for me."
Impressive, Grissom mused. And interesting.
"I'm not going to hurt him, Dr. Grissom," Franklin repeated. "I love this man very much and I'm completely aware of his vulnerability. I'm not going to exploit him or what we have."
"Good," Gil replied evenly.
"You are very protective of your friends," Franklin remarked, smiling again.
Grissom just met the amused, gray eyes.
"I'm glad you consider him one," was the addition, then Franklin rose. "Thank you for your time."
"No, thank you," Gil replied softly.
Franklin just nodded, then left the office.

              * * *
 
"He's a vampire?" Nick exclaimed. "Wow..."
"Yes, he is." Grissom pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and took a swig.
"Ecklie in love with a vampire," Stokes murmured. "Kinda strange."
Grissom came over to him and sat down. "Why?"
A shrug. "Don't know. I mean, his first lover was a paranormal, then a dry spell, now Franklin."
The older man smiled. "Love moves in mysterious ways."
Nick grinned. "Yeah, well, kinda. Look at us."
That got him raised eyebrows. "Us?"
"Guess I didn't believe in an 'us' until it happened."
Grissom smiled at the memories, warmth in the blue eyes. "I'm glad it happened, Nicky."
Nick leaned against him, head cushioned on one shoulder. Gil took another drink.
"Me, too," Stokes murmured. "Real glad. I hope Ecklie finds the same we got."
"And what do we have?" Grissom asked quietly with a note of curiosity.
Nick twisted his head and looked up, brown eyes almost black in this light. "Us," he replied.
Grissom just smiled and dropped a kiss on his forehead. They had each other, yes.
And you're the best thing that ever happened to me, Nick Stokes. You saved me, in more ways than one, and you helped me through the most difficult time of my life. I'd be dead today if not for you. We now have each other - for a very long time.
Love you.
Nick changed position, holding the deep, serious gaze, then pressed their lips together. Grissom dropped the closed bottle on the floor and his arms came around his younger lover, holding him tight. The feeling was mutual.
And he shared Nick's hope that for Conrad Ecklie this new relationship would mean the same.
Something he hadn't been aware he needed, but a chance to be happy now.

       * * *

The general mood in the break room was one of ease and good humor when Grissom entered. The nightshift supervisor looked over the assembled men and women. Catherine and Sara were standing next to the fridge, Sara drinking coffee. Nick was in, of course. They had seen each other just this morning. Grissom had gone in early because of a call. Warrick wasn't in since he had a complicated case of his own to run that took up all his time.
"Hey, Gris," Sara greeted him.
"New assignments?" Catherine asked.
"One," was the level reply.
Nick frowned as he looked at him. Grissom knew his lover was picking up something, but he couldn't say what yet.
"Drive-by shooting," Grissom elaborated. "This afternoon, at 5.47 p.m. Two victims."
Catherine had by now picked up on the grave voice of her friend and frowned slightly. "Gil...?" she queried.
"It happened while dayshift was investigating a crime scene," Grissom added, his voice eerily stable even to his own ears. "Vincent Kramer died ten minutes ago from respiratory failure; Conrad Ecklie is in critical condition und currently undergoing surgery."

              * * *
 
It had been a simple case for the dayshift team, the call which happened to be close to the end of the shift. Two rivaling gangs had gone at each other, resulting in various injuries, as well as two sad deaths. The two dead boys were just teenagers, about sixteen, both stabbed, and both had died at the scene. There were, of course, no witnesses, and while various arrested gang members had knives, all claimed to have nothing to do with either death. Hostilities still ran high and when Ecklie and his team had arrived to examine the crime scene, as well as the suspects, things had blown.
The preliminary police report spoke of a suddenly appearing car with three to four people inside. Gunfire had erupted, scattering onlookers, police and suspects. One of the teenagers had been winged by a shrapnel from a ricochet; two bullets had hit Vincent Kramer; a third Conrad Ecklie.
Franklin was, to put it mildly, frantic. His nerves lay bare and he was ready to scale walls next. No one had told him anything about Ecklie and the smell of the place did nothing to calm him down. Somewhere in the bowls of this hospital his lover was fighting for his life, but he couldn't be with him. He was still in surgery since the bullet had ended up stuck between his ribs. Franklin was listed as next of kin, and Dave Jennings, a guy from Ecklie's team, had given him the short version of the drive-by shooting. Dave hadn't been very surprised to find Franklin here and the vampire suspected that the other man knew about them. It wasn't like they were a secret, but Conrad didn't openly announce either. It was just that they had been seen together before.
It helped a little.
But not enough.
Franklin was pacing up and down the waiting room when Nick entered, and the vampire whirled around with unnatural speed, sharp eyes pinning the CSI to the spot. Nick raised his hands and smiled slightly.
"Just me."
Franklin's shoulders slumped slightly. "Nick."
Nick smiled at the other man. Since their first meeting at Ecklie's townhouse, they had only run into each other twice, but Stokes was starting to like the blond. At least he was really good for one Conrad Ecklie. They both also shared a liking for various sports and had discussed football at length once - much to Grissom's amusement.
"Anything?"
"No. And it's making me crazy!"
 "I know how that feels," Nick told the other man. "We, that is Grissom's team, are investigating the shooting. I just thought you might want to know."
Franklin gave a little laugh. "Actually, at the moment I couldn't care less."
"Well, it's just that none of the others know about you and Ecklie. Or Ecklie as such."
"That he's gay and lives with a guy?"
Nick shrugged. "Yeah."
"I think Jennings suspects. We talked earlier. And I am listed as next of kin."
Nick smiled slightly.
"Anything I should keep to myself?" Franklin asked wearily.
"Well, mostly all the things about you being a vampire and such."
A small smile appeared on the thin lips. "I think I can manage that."
"I'll stay here till the doctors are done."
"Collecting clothes and bullet?"
A grin. "You seem to know a lot about it."
Franklin shrugged. "Living with a CSI, you pick things up."
"Yeah, probably."
"At least the police has every suspect in custody," Nick sighed. "All we gotta do is match bullets."
Franklin nodded. "Sounds easy."
"Sometimes it sounds easier than it is. It's why I need the projectiles from the doctor. Both from Ecklie and Kramer."
"I heard about his death." The blond studied his folded hands. "I might be selfish, but I'm glad it wasn't Conrad coming out first."
Nick studied the other man. "No, ain't selfish. I'd be the same if it were Grissom. Death is never easy, even in a job where you're confronted by it every single day, but when it concerns someone you know and love..."
Franklin's face looked even more drawn. "Yes," he whispered.
"You must've seen a lot of it in your time."
The gray eyes closed briefly. "Too many."
"Comes with the territory," Nick remarked.
Gray eyes suddenly flared silver and Nick stepped back instinctively as the vampire came to the forefront.
"I might be old, Stokes, but it doesn't mean I'm used to death!" Franklin spat. "You might not believe it, but he's the man I love!"
"I believe you," Nick said, voice steadier than he would have thought.
"Then don't give me that crap, okay?"
"It wasn't meant like you think."
The silver eyes flared once more, then the gray color was back. Franklin slumped against the wall and scrubbed a hand over his face. Finally he sat down on the chair again.
"I'm sorry. I'm not used to this. I never... never had to watch anyone I really love die."
"You had partners before?" Nick questioned, choosing his own chair.
"I had lovers, never partners. I enjoyed whoever I bedded, but with Conrad..." Franklin shook his head with a soft smile. "You can't understand, Nick. Ever."
Nick leaned slightly forward, hands clasped. "I can try," he offered.
Franklin sat down and looked at him. "How much do you know about vampires?"
"Uh, not much. Just a few basics. Rudimentary, actually."
"I'm not going to give you a lecture on my kind, Nick. It would probably take days." He rubbed his hands together, visibly searching for words. "I know that neither you nor Grissom understand why Conrad and I are a couple; why I chose him as my partner.  You see the outside, not what is beneath the surface. You see us and think we don't fit. Of course not. A vampire and a human. But there's more than just the body; there's also the mind."
Nick suddenly smiled. "I know more about this than you think."
Franklin chuckled. "Yes, maybe you do. But there's also something very special when it comes to vampires and humans. It's rare, but it happens, and I know of one pairing where it also occurred - finding your perfect mate."
Nick stared at him, his mind conjuring up Conrad Ecklie again. Ecklie and someone like Franklin - perfect partners?
"There's one human being on this whole wide planet that is the one perfectly fitting partner for just one vampire. Many will never find it, but in Conrad Ecklie, I found mine."
"Uh, how do you know...?"
"It's a feeling, like a tingle running all over you.  Neither race nor looks or gender matter. This is the one and you know it." Franklin smiled.
"Like... soul mates?" Nick tried to verbalize the subject.
"That's a loosely fitting term, but I wouldn't use it."
"So... you met Ecklie and everything went 'wham'?"
"It's more subtle, Nick. It's a meeting of mind and soul, and you just know."
Ecklie. Sheesh, Nick thought. Ecklie... Ecklie!
"Like I said, Nick, you only see the surface. You can't look underneath. There's a lot hidden underneath the surface when it comes to Conrad Ecklie. "
And Nick's mind went haywire, conjuring up another image. He winced at that.
"You love him," he said, trying to banish the inappropriate thoughts.
"Very much. It took him a while to accept it, to see that there is more to love than physical attraction. And don't get me wrong, Nick. I like the package, too. Even if not everyone shares that opinion."
Ah hell! Nick groaned. There goes the mind again. Right down into the gutter. And right in the middle of a dead serious situation.
Franklin sighed. "This is harder for me than anything else. There's nothing I can do. Nothing at all."

* * *

Catherine stood in front of the driveway leading up to a double garage, next to a typical Vegas style townhouse. Lower middle class, orange-tiled roof, and a garden that could have used some help, but was now just a brown, uneven landscape, further dug up by a lot of people running across it. Whatever plants had been growing beside the entrance to the house, they were trampled or had long since died, too. A large, white board with red lettering announced that the house was for sale. Catherine doubted there would be any interested buyers soon.
Bullet holes decorated most of the front, the windows had been nailed shut, and crime scene tape had been put across the door. This was where the stabbed boys had been found. It wasn't one of the best areas to live in and there were a lot of gang related incidents reported every week, but so far no one had been killed - until now.
Catherine's eyes wandered to the large, brownish red patch near the entrance, then the not much smaller one just outside the doorstep. Kramer and Ecklie had just been about to enter the crime scene. There had been a police patrol car with them at the time, but it hadn't been enough protection from the car speeding up to the house and peppering the scene with automatic fire. Ecklie had been the lucky one, standing slightly behind Kramer who had been hit twice.
Catherine looked at the dried pool of blood that told her that both her colleagues had gone down here, injured, one already fighting for his life, and she swallowed.
Sara joined her, silver crime scene kit in hand, her face just as serious as Catherine's.
"I'll do the site, you look for anything that might get us the vehicle," Willows said, voice calm and collected.
Sara just nodded and began her work, looking for tire treads, maybe parts the car had lost, anything at all. Catherine opened her own kit and began taking pictures of the scene.
 

Some hours later they were done. Sara held up several plastic evidence bags, showing paint splinters and what looked like a broken tail light.
"Car hit another one further down the road. Swerved badly, too. Got the paint chips and have some nice photos of the tire marks."
Catherine nodded, snapping her own case shut. "Let's get it all into Trace."
And they were off again.

* * *

"Case number 03-09953/01. Vincent Robert Kramer. Age thirty-nine. Caucasian male with brown hair and brown eyes."
Dr. Al Robbins looked at the familiar face of the body lying on his work table. Pale, strangely peaceful, the dark hair matted with only a little blood, Vincent Kramer looked more like he was asleep than dead. But many corpses gave off that feeling, as if they would open their eyes and say hello. Sadly, Robbins thought, it wasn't the case here. Kramer was dead.
"Rigor mortis is present in the extremities. The skin is of normal texture and there is a single scar in the right lower quadrant of the abdomen from previous appendectomy. Visible gun shot wound to the abdomen with no visible burn or gunpowder residue; visible gun shot wound to the chest, no burn or gunpowder residue either."
Looking at his assistant coroner, he nodded at David to begin the autopsy. The younger man, face grave and reflecting the same sadness Robbins felt, cut into the lifeless skin for the Y-incision.

* * *
 
Surgery was still in progress and no news had leaked. Nick had left Franklin in the waiting room and was on his way to the coffee machine when Grissom called.
"Anything?" his lover asked immediately.
"No news. Franklin's scaling the walls in there. I was about to get some coffee. You?"
"We're comparing finger prints, Trace has the clothes of the suspects, and Sara and Catherine are fine-combing the vehicle the police secured."
"'Kay."
"Call me if something changes."
For better or worse, was the unspoken addition.
"Will do."
If Ecklie died... Nick didn't want to think about it.
"Nick, stay with Franklin. Send the bullet over but stay with him," Grissom suddenly said, voice serious, intense.
"Gil?"
"Just do it."
"Sure."
And with that they ended the call. Nick put the cell back into his pocket and contemplated Grissom's last words as he stared into the black coffee he had in his hands. He would stay with Franklin, but he doubted it was in his powers to do something if bad news were delivered. Vampires were strong and if Franklin lost it...
He sank against the wall and gazed at the ceiling.
"Damn," he muttered.
 * * *

Dr. Al Robbins walked down the corridor of the criminalistics building, nodding at the people he met on the way and knew. As he arrived at the office he had been aiming for, he shifted his weight a little on his metal crutch, then knocked once before entering.
Gil Grissom, wire frame glasses perched on his nose, looked up from his work and gave the coroner a weary smile. It was rare that Grissom looked as tired as he must feel on his double shifts, but Robbins had known his colleague long enough by now. Today - well, this early morning - he was dead on his feet and his work wasn't over by a long shot. Everyone would be working doubly hard to have an airtight case to get the men responsible for this murder behind bars.
"Still here?" Robbins asked, smiling slightly.
Grissom shrugged, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. It was a strangely vulnerable, human gesture. "Work doesn't do itself, sadly."
The coroner nodded. "Got you the autopsy report."
Grissom's eyebrows twitched up slightly. "Room service, Al?"
"Only for the VIPs."
A slight smile crossed over Grissom's lips, then disappeared. He took the offered folder and read over the report. It was nothing new from what everyone had expected. No great mysteries; a clear case.
"I gave the bullets to Ballistics and the clothes are in Trace."
"Thanks," he murmured.
"How's Ecklie?" Robbins asked.
Grissom gave him a mild frown and Robbins smiled encouragingly.
"Still in surgery," was the reply.
"Hope he makes it. I'd hate to have another familiar face on the table."
Grissom nodded.
"Especially since the guy's made such a turnaround."
An eyebrow rose quizzically.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Ecklie's completely different. He started to develop human tendencies just before he left and since he came back it's been very pleasant to work with him."
"Sometimes, life changes you," was the calm reply.
Robbins nodded. "Life and other things. At least you two seem to be getting better along now, too." There was no reply to that and Robbins gave his old friend another smile. "Well, unlike you, I'm off now. End of shift. "
"Lucky you."
"Yep."
Robbins gave Grissom another smile, then left the office, aware that this double shift would be spent nailing the bastards responsible for Kramer death, the men who had nearly killed Ecklie.
 

Grissom gazed at the spot where Dr. Robbins had been just a mere minute ago, his eyes itching from too little sleep and too much reading. Ecklie's case wasn't the only one they were working on and crime hadn't stopped because of one dead criminalist. The news were still running the shooting, showing pictures of Kramer and his family, interviews with the widow and they were trying to find a way into the hospital to get to Ecklie. So far, the other man had been shielded from prying eyes and the hospital staff consisted of professionals. No reporters would show footage of the injured man. Grissom hoped that by the time Ecklie was released the story would be old news.
It was strange, he mused, how their relationship had changed within just over a year. From rivalry and open opposition to sudden understanding and tentative bonds of friendship. The Conrad Ecklie who had gone to San Francisco had been different from the man he had known for years, and the man who had returned... well, Grissom suspected that was the Conrad Ecklie of before Tom's death. A man who no longer used back-stabbing methods to achieve his goals, who was balanced and liked his life, a man who loved his job and did it because of this love, not for politically correct reasons. It was a man he liked to call his friend.
A man who was currently fighting for his life.
Grissom sighed and pushed those thoughts away. He had work to do.

* * *

To everyone's relief surgery went without a hitch and the doctor in charge was very positive about Ecklie's general condition. The bullet had hit him high in the shoulder, thankfully not shattering the shoulder blade, and with some time and physical therapy he would be back to work soon. The blood loss had been the main problem and would still remain it until transfusions had helped the injured body recover.
Franklin was beside himself with relief and Nick could see the urge in the other man to see his lover, but he was holding back with laudable restraint. For a two decades old being, he was no different in his emotional reaction from anyone else.
Grissom had dropped by after his shift, bearing no news except that two of the suspects had been booked due to the evidence found on them, but they were still missing two more. But it was just a matter of time. He remained with the other two men in the waiting room.
They all looked up when a doctor entered the room. He was a short, slender Asian with longish black hair. He smiled as he closed the door.
"Dr. Lee Kim," he introduced himself. "I'll be in charge of Mr. Ecklie's recovery process."
Grissom raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled, and so was Nick. The surgeon who had operated on Ecklie had already told them everything, so why another doctor?
"I know you're aware of the severity of the injury. My colleague already informed you about everything, especially possible post-surgery complications and the problems of blood loss."
Nick frowned. "Yes," he said warily.
"Which also brings us to the matter of Mr. Franklin."
Kim looked at the blond and the gray eyes flashed in alarm, but he didn't say anything.
"I'm quite aware of your relationship with Mr. Ecklie," Kim went on, smiling. "And who you are."
Grissom frowned, pursing his lips as Franklin tensed more.
"Which is why Conrad Ecklie was appointed as my patient," the doctor explained. "Las Vegas has quite a frequency when it comes to paranormals passing through and not all of them heal on their own when injured."
Grissom's eyebrows rose in blatant surprise at the open words. Kim smiled more.
"I'm one of this hospital's resident allies, gentlemen. Rest assured that you won't be in any trouble, Mr. Franklin, whenever you come or go. The nurses taking care of Mr. Ecklie are either allies or paranormals, too."
"Remarkable," Grissom remarked.
Kim shrugged. "It solves a lot of problems."
"But Conrad is no paranormal," Franklin argued
"I know, but you are."
As simple as that.
Kim chatted with them some more, then said his good-byes. It was by now around noon and Nick had to confess he felt tired. It had been a long day and it wasn't over yet.
"You two should go home," Franklin's soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Look who's talking, man. You look like shit, Franklin."
The vampire smiled, looking paler than ever. "I'm fine."
Nick frowned and he saw Grissom study the blond man with a mild scowl on his features.
"When was the last time you ate?" Gil asked calmly.
Franklin met the inquiring blue eyes and sighed. "I'll be fine, Dr. Grissom."
"In a hospital."
Nick noted the tone to his lover's voice, the nuances, and he knew what he was getting at. A vampire, probably hungry, in a hospital where blood was an everyday occurrence.
Franklin held the knowing gaze and bit his lower lip. "I can't leave him."
"You can and you have to," Grissom pointed out with no malice. He simply sounded reasonable.
Again a mild staring contest - which Grissom won. It was testament to the weakness of the vampire at the moment; he was hungry, he needed rest.
"I can drop you off at your place," Nick offered.
Franklin gave him a faint smile. "Thanks, but I got my own car. I'm parked underground."
Nick glanced at the clock above the entrance to the waiting room. It was already way in the morning. The sun was out.
"I'll be okay for the short trip," Franklin added.
Grissom studied him silently, then nodded. They left together, Franklin more reluctantly than the others, shooting looks down the corridors as if he expected a big sign declaring that Conrad Ecklie lay in this room. In the elevator, he briefly sank against the wall.
"You sure about driving?" Nick inquired again.
It got him a half-smile. "Ask one more time and I really have to think about it."
Nick flashed the other man a smile. "And the offer still stands. Listen, it won't help Ecklie if you crash the car on the Strip or the Interstate."
There was a visible fight going on inside the vampire, then he shook his head. "I'll be fine."
He exited the elevator at his parking level and the other two men remained behind, going up one level again to the ground floor.
"Stubborn," Nick muttered as they walked through the morning sun to their vehicles.
Grissom smiled slightly. "Yes." He pushed his shades up the nose. "Breakfast at home?"
Nick thought for a second, then nodded. "I'd probably embarrass myself in a restaurant," he chuckled, then yawned.
Gil grinned. "See you in a few."
Nick pulled out first, not even thinking about what 'home' to drive to. Grissom's place was his home.

* * *

The next night passed without a hitch. Catherine found the last piece of evidence to book the remaining two suspects and everyone shared a sigh of relief, which was only overshadowed by the fact that one of their own had died. Dayshift was running around like in a trance. Vincent Kramer had been assigned to leave Las Vegas next month to take charge of the dayshift of the Phoenix crime lab. Not only his team mates were mourning him, the whole lab was.
Nick ran into Dave Jennings in the locker room at the beginning of his shift, noting the pale skin, the lines in the other man's face.
"Hey," he said quietly as he opened his locker.
Jennings gave him a weak smile. "Hey. You guys did fast work. You got the perps."
Nick nodded as he slipped into the shirt he would wear for work. "Yeah. They made it easy."
"At least we got them," Dave murmured. "Vince would have approved."
Nick chewed on his lower lip. "Yeah."
"We got the news from the hospital today," Dave went on, apparently needing to talk. "Ecklie's gonna be fine. He was awake already and we plan on heading over there before the next shift. Just to say hello."
So did Nick and Grissom. Nick had called the hospital already and heard that Ecklie was improving, but visits did wonders to calm frazzled nerves. Dayshift had nearly lost their supervisor, someone who had just come back after a year, and someone who had changed so much. For the better. Relations between the two shifts had improved even before Ecklie's sabbatical, but now they were actually on very good terms. Favors were traded concerning work that could only be done throughout the other shift's time, and there had been some friendly invitations to softball matches or to go bowling.
"Sounds good," Nick said.
"Yeah, well, he can't just get away with taking some time off after he came back only a few weeks ago," Dave joked weakly.
Nick gave him an understanding grin. "Nah, he's a workaholic. He'll be back in no time."
"Yeah." Dave pushed his locker shut. "Happy hunting tonight, Nick. See ya."
Stokes watched his colleague go, then went to his own work. He knew how hard it was to have a colleague from the same shift in the hospital. Holly Gribbs had been a colleague for a night only, but still...
With a sigh, he concentrated on the evidence he needed to process.

* * *

He didn't know if it was the same for Ezra as it was for him: this incredible feeling of needing to be with his lover, the one person who touched him more deeply than all the other bed partners he had had in his long life. The one person who meant the world to him. Ezra had Chris, loved him deeply, was his life mate. Maybe he had fretted over his human lover just the same, had feared something like this might happen, and when it had, had felt so helpless. Chris was a vampire now, but that was one step he didn't want to consider making any time soon.
Franklin looked at the pale form on the hospital bed, feeling his insides tremble with the dark thoughts of what could have happened. Conrad could be dead now. Or in a coma. Or handicapped. Or...
He shivered and screwed his eyes shut.
Conrad Ecklie was human and he could suffer from all kinds of dangerous injuries, but Franklin had thought him to be safe in this job as a crime scene investigator. No fire fights, no chasing criminals with a gun... and still, he had gotten shot. Chris Larabee had been human once too, partnered with a vampire, namely Ezra Standish. His son. Well, a son he had never thought he had.
His past, Franklin thought. He and Ezra talked, they were developing a friendship, and the past hostility had evaporated. The urge to call the other vampire to talk to him had been great, but Franklin had held back. No one in Salt Lake knew about him being lovers with a human, and it was nobody's business. Especially since this human was his chosen life-partner.
Who had nearly died.
Only nearly.
Conrad would live.
Thank the powers.
Franklin gently touched one pale cheek, smiling when the simple contact drew a little twitch from the semi-conscious man. Dark eyes cracked open, blurry and unfocused, and Franklin whispered a soft, 'Hey there'.
He wrapped his fingers around one limp hand and held on. Ecklie's eyes were sliding shut again, his breathing regular, and his hand curled around Franklin's. One arm was thickly bandaged and in a sling, there were IV lines running into the injured man, but he looked so much better than the day before.
"How long have you been sitting there?" Ecklie finally asked, voice soft.
"Long enough to get the evil eye from every nurse who came in here," Franklin joked.
A smile appeared on Ecklie's lips and he opened his eyes once more.
There was a light knock and then the door opened. Grissom walked into the room, giving the two men a smile.
"Hello, Conrad. Franklin."
Ecklie didn't let go of his lover's hand and Franklin made no moves to either. Grissom was alone and from the time of day, he was on his way to work.
"Hey, Gil," Ecklie replied.
Grissom's eyes held an expression of shared pain and Franklin knew why. He regretted the death of Vincent Kramer, too. He had never met the man, but his lover had spoken highly of his 'second in command', a man who had just made the next step in his career.
"I'll leave you two to talk shop," Franklin said calmly and rose, giving the hand in his own a little squeeze. When Conrad squeezed back, he leaned over and brushed their lips together, unconcerned with their watcher. "See you tomorrow," he whispered.
Ecklie scowled slightly. "Get some rest."
"Yes, Mom."
With a smile at Grissom, Franklin left the room.
* * *

The funeral was a private one that included the CSIs. Grissom stood on the trimmed, green grass, looking at the coffin raised over the grave. There were flowers everywhere, some with condolences written on black bands that decorated the arrangements. Tall trees lined the driveway the funeral procession had taken and they moved in the gentle breeze that came in from the desert. The cemetery was like a green island within the dryness, lush and alive while it was actually a place of death, of eternal rest.
There were about fifty mourners, the family of the murdered criminalist sitting in the front rows listening to the soft words and prayers. Lab technicians, police officers, and friends made up the rest. A sea of black with the occasional dark brown or blue. Grissom's eyes went over to the assembled dayshift, all dressed in black, their faces blank, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
Grissom stood near the back of the mourners, out of the spotlight, out of the direct field of vision. Nick was at his side, wearing a black suit, underneath it a black shirt. His eyes were hidden behind glasses, his face a mask, but Grissom had no trouble reading the tears in those dark eyes. The others were standing left and right of him, silent in their prayers and thoughts, listening.
The funeral was over within an hour and the crowd dispersed. Grissom remained behind, looking at the coffin that held the body of a colleague, killed because of a gang war. Such a waste, like every criminal death, and burying one of their own was always the hardest.
"Gil?"
The soft voice drew him out of his thoughts and he looked at his partner. Nick's face was still rather closed off and there was infinite sorrow in his expression.
"Let's go home," Grissom just said.

* * *

It took another five days for Dr. Kim to release Ecklie into the care of his lover. The men and women of dayshift had come by almost daily, alternating in who visited when, keeping their boss up to date. Franklin stayed out of the way whenever 'work' came to visit, but he was there when Nick and Grissom dropped by.
By department regulations, Ecklie was required to talk with a psychologist about the events, especially his feelings concerning the shooting, so he spent a lot of time with Dr. Philipp Kane in the weeks following his release. He wasn't expected back at work for at least another ten days, which would make him absent for almost a month. Ecklie groused about it, but he had to accept the facts, and while he kept track of the shift's cases, he wasn't allowed into the building or to log on.
The close call had made Franklin quite protective in turn and while he tried not to, he treated Ecklie like a fragile porcelain doll. After the first week at home, Ecklie was close to frustration. Not only wasn't he allowed back to work, his lover was keeping his distance, too. Except for a kiss, the vampire refused to initiate any further contact. While the injury hurt, it was by now nothing but a bothersome ache.
Watching Franklin as he slipped out of the business suit he wore while he was at the Inca, Ecklie decided it was time for some action of his own. He approached the semi-nude man and wrapped his good arm around the slender waist. Franklin smiled and turned his head, kissing him.
"Hey."
"Hard day?" Ecklie asked, not letting go of his lover who was dressed in nothing but his underwear and a white t-shirt.
"Nothing extraordinary."
"Good."
And he began to kiss the exposed neck, nibbling at one of the hot spots he knew so well. Franklin closed his eyes and leaned back a little, enjoying the attention.
"Franklin," Ecklie whispered, reaching his ear. "I'm not made of glass."
The vampire frowned. "What?"
"I won't break if you touch me."
Franklin turned in his arms, serious gray eyes looking at the other man. "I know that, Conrad. I just don't want to hurt you..."
Ecklie smiled warmly. "Which I appreciate," he answered gently. "But I want you to touch me... I want you to touch me a lot." He ran a suggestive hand over the other's chest.
Franklin's eyes lit up with hunger. "Conrad..."
"A lot," he repeated. "I know I'm not up to the full program, but I want you."
He was taken into a pair of strong arms, which held him tenderly. Franklin kissed him, opening his mouth with insistent pressure, and Ecklie answered passionately.
Franklin guided him slowly down onto the bed, eyes alight with lust, and Ecklie smiled suggestively. His lover crawled over his body, looking down at him, then bent to kiss the familiar lips.

* * *

Nick walked out of the bathroom and looked over into the living room. He noticed his lover sitting at the coffee table, taking a sip of his beverage every now and then, otherwise deeply concentrating on something lying on the table in front of him. Once in a while he would make some notes, scribbling something or other on the piece of paper, smiling a little. Nick couldn't help watching the older man, knowing exactly what it was that had caught his lover's attention that thoroughly.
Grissom was filling out a cross word. Drying his shower damp hair with a towel, he leaned against the doorframe and watched, wondering how long it would take for Grissom to notice the observing eyes.
Deeply engrossed as Grissom was he didn't, so Nick decided to take the matter into his own hands. Leisurely strolling over to the table, he swung one leg over Grissom's legs and sat down on the table in front of his lover.
"Nick?"
"Gil."
"You're sitting on my cross word."
"I do? Sorry."
Smiling slightly, Nick watched Grissom closely, sensed the exact moment when slight confusion changed into awareness, noticed the almost invisible alteration in the way Grissom looked at him.
His lover's blue eyes were wandering over the exposed skin of his chest and stomach where the shirt was hanging open, traveling slightly over his sweat pant clad thighs toward a certain area that definitely took greater interest in the hopefully forthcoming events.
When Grissom slowly laid a hand on each thigh Nick knew he had him. Slipping forward until he was kneeling on the couch, straddling his lover's thighs he bent forward to claim the other man's lips in a gentle kiss, enjoying the small gasp this elicited, feeling Gil's hands glide up his hips until he was meeting the bare skin of his back. Leaning back, Gil was holding him, as engrossed in the kiss now as he had been in his crosswords mere minutes ago, and Nick had to smile at that thought. Whatever his lover did, he did it thoroughly.
Nick turned his attention to his lover's neck, licking and teething all the soft spots he knew by now, hearing Grissom gasp and almost purr in delight, feeling his touch intensify, and gave his own hands something to do, slipping them under the other man's shirt and running his fingers over Grissom's chest and stomach until he found what was looking for. Stroking one nipple into hardness earned him a deeper moan and a slight jerk of hips against his, his lover's groin meeting his own hardness. Grissom might not be in his twenties, and he might not harden as fast as he had back then, but Nick sensed his readiness nevertheless. He knew it wouldn't need much more encouragement and Gil Grissom would whimper with need in his arms.
The hands stroking his back went deeper, slipping into the waistband of his loose pants, pulling him even closer, and Nick reacted only too willingly, tongue gliding over Grissom's lips coaxing them into opening up for him while he turned his attention to the other nipple. This was all it took to make Grissom moan into his mouth and tighten his grip on Nick's backside.
"Bedroom?" Nick suggested.
Grissom's hungry look was answer enough.
He smiled and slid off his lover's lap, gazing down at the aroused man. Nick held out a hand and Grissom took it. He pulled the older man to him, kissing him once more.
"Bedroom," Grissom murmured.
Definitely...

* * *

He had been in the hospital when Vince had been buried. Now Ecklie stood at the fresh grave, looking down at the headstone, reading the name, but inside him everything was frozen up in a grief he hadn't thought lurked there. He had known Kramer for over ten years. Vince had transferred from L.A. and had been on the graveyard shift at first, then dayshift. Ecklie had liked the man, his easy going nature and his sharp wit, and when Kramer had been offered the shift in Phoenix because Ecklie had returned from Frisco, both men had celebrated the promotion.
"You didn't deserve this," he whispered and swallowed the lump in his throat.
It could be him down there, in that grave, he thought. But it was Vince.
"Damn!" he whispered, then turned away and walked in determined steps away from the grave, out of the cemetery and to his car.
Where Franklin was waiting.
Ecklie was still not allowed to drive, though he had regained much of his shoulder's mobility. Gray eyes looked at him as he slid into the passenger seat.
"Conrad?"
"I'm okay. Just... pick a bar. I need something to drink."
Franklin looked at him for a long two seconds, then nodded and pulled out of the parking lot. The sun was still out and while Ecklie was worried, as always, when the vampire was outside in daylight, today he didn't comment on it.
Today, he needed a stiff drink.
A very stiff drink.
And time.
Survivor's guilt, part of him remarked, but he couldn't care less about inner voices right now.
He just wanted to feel something strong burn down his throat and forget reality for a few hours.