Title: Evidence of a Past Long Gone
Part of the Evidence Series (CSI)
Part of the Denuo AU (Mag 7)
By: Macx (with Lara Bee)
Pairing: Eckile/Franklin

This is a crossover, in case you haven't discovered that yet.
 

Las Vegas throughout the holiday season was not much brighter or crowded than any other time of year. The Christmas trees and lights were just another addition to the garish, bright and loud city that sat in the middle of the Nevada desert, lit up like a giant Christmas tree throughout the year anyway. Crime happened just like on any other day and while the festive spirit did exist in the family homes, so did greed, jealousy and downright viciousness.
The CSI shifts of the LVPD were busy around the clock and Conrad Ecklie envied his colleague's calm demeanor not and then. Grissom was his usual, unrattled self in the face of so many senseless murders over trifle things. Maybe his moods also came from the fact that he hadn't seen much of his partner and lover in the last three weeks. Double shifts meant he wouldn't come home until late, have some dinner and drop off to sleep, too exhausted for anything else. Mostly he woke early, got up, showered and simply drove to work to finish whatever had been left undone the day before.
Franklin in turn felt the holiday spirit his own way. The Inca, the hotel and casino he worked as a personnel manager at, required him more and more often now, too. Work was piling up for both and if they saw each other in the evening, it wasn't for more than a bit of cuddling and a kiss good-night.
The invitation to drive over to Salt Lake for Christmas had been surprising but Ecklie found he was actually looking forward to meeting the Salt Lake graveyard shift again. At least some of them. A brief call to Chris Larabee had revealed that Vin and Buck were away over the holidays, and the others would be on call. Nothing new there.
So he had taken a few days off himself, his own vacation days accumulating endlessly anyway, and he and Franklin had driven to Salt Lake on the 23rd. Franklin had done some major shuffling to make this happen.
This time they would be staying at Ezra's place. They had a huge guest room that was more like a small apartment anyway.
What came as a surprise was the litter of kittens.
"Cassy's lot," Chris explained fondly as the men stood around the box that held one mother cat and three babies. One was cream colored, another looked like her mother, though darker, and the third was a black-and-white. "Three weeks old," Larabee added.
Cassy looked at them, a proud mother, and purred loudly. The three kitten were moving in the padded box, the cream colored one stalking over its siblings as it tried out its legs. The ears were still not completely straightened up and the eyes, though open, didn't see a lot.
Ecklie crouched down and touched the little cream colored one. It gave a small 'mew' and tumbled over, its fragile balance upset. Cassy leaned forward and licked over the small head as the kitten staggered back to its four paws, continuing its way unperturbed. The criminalist smiled softly.
He wasn't aware of the two vampires exchanging meaningful glances behind his back.

*

As not really otherwise expected, a case interrupted.
It did nothing to keep their spirits down. While it was out of the question for Franklin and him to go sightseeing, there were other ways to enjoy themselves. Ecklie was more than happy to just put his feet up and watch some TV, read a paper or a book. Franklin was at his side, dozing, his head on Ecklie's lap.
He glanced at the clock and rubbed over his lover's arm. Franklin's eyes cracked open.
"We should get ready," Ecklie said softly. "We're meeting Chris in an hour."
"Oh, yeah, right," Franklin mumbled and sat up, yawning. He stretched and shot Ecklie a smile.
They were on their way not much later, Franklin maneuvering their car through the streets of Salt Lake, which were lushly decorated with Christmas lights, adorned with trees and figurines of Santa Claus, reindeers and angels. The shops were all lit up, people moving in throngs past the parked cars, and it was close to impossible to get a parking spot. The Clarion Tower had its own parking lot and they easily found a visitor parking place.
Chris wasn't out yet, so Ecklie identified himself at the reception desk and asked for the graveyard shift supervisor.
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Larabee was called out again," the receptionist, a woman in her mid-fifties replied. She was about to add something when a call interrupted them.
"Hey, guys!" JD waved at them, then shot the receptionist a smile. "Valerie."
"Hello, JD," Ecklie replied.
"You waiting for Chris? He should be back soon. You can come and have a coffee or something." He grinned at Franklin.
The vampire smiled back, then shrugged. "Why not?"
They were issued visitor badges and JD led them to the break room. There were still a lot of people around and the labs seemed busy. The break room as such was not much different from the one back home in Vegas, though it didn't look like some kind of giant fish tank. Only one wall was completely made of glass and there was a larger fridge.
They made themselves comfortable, talking with JD until the young criminalist got a page and had to hurry off. Ecklie watched the bustle outside through the glass window and finally Chris made his way through the corridors. He smiled at them.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, guys."
"Actually, I'm surprised you weren't detained for the rest of the day," Ecklie chuckled. "Happens whenever I've got something planned."
Chris smiled and shrugged. "Josiah volunteered to handle the wrap-up."
"Very generous of him."
They walked down the corridor toward the parking lot. Chris nodded at some of the people he knew but was suddenly stopped by a guy in his late forties, maybe early fifties, with thinning hair, wearing a lab coat.
"Thought you might want the results on your street rat," the man said.
Larabee frowned slightly as he took the piece of paper.
"We found traces of semen on the kid," the man said. "According to the lab, four different DNAs."
"He was raped?" Chris asked sharply.
A shrug. "Dr. Jackson ran a rape kit and while there are signs of a forced entry, most of the semen was recovered on his body. He wasn't a virgin either. He thinks he's had intercourse before."
"Prostitute?"
"Likely. The bruises are inconsistent with a regular beating and he was high on drugs. Found some more in his pockets. Cause of death if overdose. He must have come back from a party of something."
Ecklie knew what parties they were talking about. There were circles in every city, men and women alike who paid a prostitute to be the toy of the evening, watching or participating as the toy was used to one's pleasure.
"You know the kid's name?"
"Not yet. He's not in the missing persons' files, but I doubt we'll find something. He was a whore, Larabee. Took an overdose and cleared the streets of another scumbag."
Ecklie tensed, brows dipping at the carelessly uttered words. There was one thing every criminalist always kept in mind: whoever the victim was, rich or poor, good or bad, they were all treated with the same respect, the case was handled with the same diligence, and no preferences were shown.
"This boy, Matthews, was a human being," Chris said, voice cold and laced with steel. "We don't know anything about him, his background, his family. But he suffered a grievous death and no one should judge him by what he did just to survive."
"He was a junkie and a whore, Larabee. It's what killed him," Matthews replied.
Ecklie was impressed by the guts the man showed, standing up to a superior. Especially looking at Chris now, the hazel eyes promising imminent doom.
"And I think you should reconsider your words," Chris replied. "We work impartially, without judgment, and if you can't, this is the wrong job for you."
Matthews glanced at Ecklie, who gave him a scowl, then turned on his heels and left. As Ecklie turned to Franklin, he suddenly came aware of the fact that his lover stood completely still, face an unhealthy gray, the eyes wide and filled with something that could only be described as rage. Suddenly the vampire moved, long strides taking him past the two stunned men and out of the building at an almost unnatural speed.
Ecklie and Chris followed, hurrying after him into the dark parking lot where only a few people were walking among the cars.
"Franklin!" Ecklie called.
The blond man stood next to their car, tense, radiating anger.
"Franklin?" Ecklie asked, concern coloring his voice as he watched the slender form of his lover, chest heaving with heavy pants.
Air hissed through clenched teeth and gray eyes glowed silver, reflecting the fury Franklin felt, but why? And at what or who?
Reaching out to touch the other man, Ecklie was unprepared for the violent push he received, flinging him back with a force only a vampire could muster. He actually flew through the air, but instead of a hard brick wall hitting his back, maybe injuring him, he was caught by a pair of strong arms. Chris staggered back under the impact of Ecklie's weight and the strength with which Franklin had propelled him away.
"Gotcha," Chris whispered. "You okay?"
"Fine," he answered automatically, eyes on his lover.
Franklin was shaking, pale, so completely different... and something had set it off. And then he started to run. He pushed past some people and just ran out of the parking lot into the streets, ignoring the startled yelps of pedestrians or the honking of surprised drivers.
Ecklie just stared at the quickly disappearing figure, completely at a loss.

* * *

Ezra had listened to the brief explanation from Chris and his frown deepened with every sentence. He didn't know much about Franklin as such, only what the older vampire had revealed in the time they had really gotten to know each other. From the looks of it, Conrad Ecklie knew even less and it was something Ezra regretted. When he had met Chris, he had shared his past with his lover, but something in Franklin's history apparently prevented him from opening up.
"You think he's got issues with crimes against children?" Chris muttered as he steered his car through the by now silent streets.
Ezra shrugged. "Maybe. Or it might be something else. We've got to find him to get answers."
Chris smiled wryly. "I doubt he'll give us any we like - if at all."
"Oh, he will answer. Attacking his claimed partner isn't a matter to take lightly."
Ecklie sat in the back of the car, eyes on the dark streets, apparently far away with his thoughts. They had left the car at the police parking lot, taking Chris's SUV instead. Ezra had called Luther, asking him to keep an eye on the Grotto, just in case Franklin decided to go there - which wasn't likely, but still an option. Alerting the other paranormal drinking places, as well as the usual haunts of vampires, Ezra was sure the proprietors would call should Franklin set foot in any of the establishments.
So far, after three hours, there had been no call.
And it was getting close to sunrise.
Ecklie shifted slightly but without a sound. Chris glanced in the rearview mirror, then concentrated on the streets again. They had been cruising for a long time, but there was no Franklin anywhere.
"Maybe he went home?" Ecklie suddenly spoke up, his voice unnaturally loud in the cab of the car.
Both vampires shot him surprised looks.
"Vegas?" Chris wanted to know.
"No, the mansion."
Another exchange of looks.
"Possible," Ezra conceded as Chris turned the car around.
They stopped outside the large building twenty minutes later. All windows were dark and the drapes and blinds were closed. Chris opened the door to his apartment and stepped in as Ezra did the same with his. Their apartments were fully independent of each other but had a connecting sliding door. Ecklie followed Chris, his eyes unable to penetrate the gloom, unlike Chris, who could see perfectly well. A soft meowing noise greeted them and in the light coming in from the hallway, Ecklie discovered a pair of reflecting eyes gazing at them.
Larabee switched on the light and Ecklie's heart missed a beat as he discovered the huddled bundle of misery on the couch. Franklin had curled up, legs pulled up, arms around his knees, his forehead resting on his knees. Two cats were curled up with him, a third sitting on the back of the couch. Cassy was with her sleeping litter.
"Franklin?" Ecklie blurted, making advances to go to his lover.
Chris's hold kept him back and he glared at the other criminalist. His glare was met by calm, hazel eyes that relayed a warning.
Ezra had entered from his apartment and approached the vampire on the couch.
"Franklin?"
"Leave me alone," came the muffled reply.
"No."
The blond head lifted and burning gray eyes, lined by pain, met the calm green ones.
"You're in my home."
"That can be changed," came the snarl and Franklin unfolded from his position, drawing a protesting 'mrow' from the cats. There was a flash of silver in the gray eyes, telling of the vampire too close to the surface.
Ezra's hand shot forward and he grabbed the taller man, holding him. "Franklin!"
Gray eyes flared silver and a growl emerged from the vampire. Ecklie froze, shocked by the feral sound, but he was more shocked by the appearance of Franklin. Something had hit him badly, deeply, and it was eating away at a man he had thought wasn't easily flustered.
Ezra suddenly grabbed the older vampire and pushed him back against the wall, hand fisting into the black shirt. Green eyes now glowed as well. Ecklie made an unconscious step forward at the confrontation, but Chris held him back once more.
"Franklin!" Ezra hissed, voice almost a snarl.
Franklin tried to twist away from the restraining hand, but Ezra held on. "Let go of me!"
"When you calm down enough not to hurt your partner!"
Franklin stopped short, the glow fading and the gray eyes seeking out Ecklie, who still stood with Chris, feeling a bit shell-shocked. "I... Conrad? No... no... I'd never..."
"You attacked him!" Ezra growled. "You could have hurt him badly if Chris hadn't caught him!"
Franklin flinched and seemed to sink in on himself. "No..."
"Yes, you did! And I want to know why! What's going on?"
"I... it's private," came the pained whimper.
"Maybe, but not any more!" Ezra pushed him towards the couch and Franklin almost fell on it. "Now talk before I find very unpleasant ways to get to the truth!"
Ecklie came forward, this time not stopped by Larabee, automatically sitting down next to his lover who seemed to shrink back from him. Haunted eyes looked at the three men.
"Is it because of the boy?" Chris suddenly asked, alert eyes on the older vampire.
Franklin closed his eyes and nodded.
"Did you know him?"
A shake of the blond head. "No. Someone like him."
Ecklie frowned. Another shard of his lover's long past.
"Who?" Chris asked softly, automatically adopting the voice he used to interview victims or scared witnesses.
"Me."
Ecklie froze and he knew he was gaping. "Franklin?" he whispered, but a raised hand from Ezra stopped him.
The vampire's attention was riveted to the one who had turned him such a long time ago, features softening slightly.
"When I heard you talk... when I heard the other guy say the boy was no one to mourn, just a street rat... that the street's are safer now..."
"You lost it," Ezra supplied.
Another nod.
"I was just like him," Franklin said softly, staring at the floor. "Older maybe, but so much like him."
Ecklie leaned back, shock coursing through him. He was too stunned to ask.
"I was born and raised in Plymouth as John McDermott. When I was old enough, I worked wherever hands were needed. Mostly in the harbor. It was hard work, mostly at nights or the early morning, unloading ships, and it was in that time I got addicted to drugs."
Drugs?! Ecklie continued to stare at his lover.
"They were expensive and I didn't have the money to buy them every time, so I... did what was necessary. Steal and... deal with whatever I got my hands on. When that wasn't enough, I sold myself."
Franklin's pale face grew even paler. He didn't look at anyone, just continued to stare at the floor. Conrad Ecklie felt his world start to tumble. Franklin had... sold himself?
"I got into the wrong circles, but I didn't care as long as I could get my dosage. I met Pierre in that time, my Sire. He worked in the docks, too. He was in administration and he tried to help me."

//"C'mon, John, the ship's waiting to be unloaded."
The voice calling through his slightly fogged brain belonged to a friend and colleague by the name of Ian. The big red-haired dock worker with the heart of gold slapped his back gently - well, for Ian it was gently. It made him stagger even on a good day, and today was far from good.
"John, you're all right?"
He faked a slight cough.
"Might be comin' down with somethin'."
Ian glanced at him a little worried.
"Aye, you don't look so good tonight. Want to go home? I'll excuse you."
Ian knew perfectly well that question was futile. Every man working on the dock, doing bone crashing hard work like loading or unloading the ships, didn't do it because he simply loved his work so much. They all were in dire need of the money, and his friend of all people should know it better than anyone else. Ian was a married man and his wife Catherine was expecting their third child.
"No, it'll pass. Let's go."
Clenching he teeth he bent to get another sack of grain packed on his back. He had stopped counting, for the fog in his mind wouldn't lift as easily as it normally did. His back hurt like hell, his legs were already complaining, and he had started sweating - nothing unusual, given the hard work. But he knew the signs, and as much as he hated it, he would have to go to Ashton again. His stomach lurched with the very thought and his legs quivered, making the load on his back slide away.
Strong hands grabbed his arms as he threatened to sink to the ground, helping him to ease down the sack. Lifting his head he looked into a pair of piercing blue eyes, studying him closely. Chiseled features, long black hair tied together at the back of the neck...  he swallowed when he recognized who was taking care of him. Pierre Rousseau, the new administration man.
"Thank you, sir," he managed to get out, trying to get away from the man's intense gaze. Rousseau frowned a little and inhaled, before he let go of his arms, nodding once.
"Ne le mentionnez pas. You ... do not look good. Go home and rest."
"Sir, I can ..."
"No, you can't." Rousseau snapped at him sharply. "I do not need sick workers. Go home."
He felt his stomach lurch again, this time with fear. If Rousseau threw him out ... if he wouldn't be able to earn money here, he would be forced to visit Ashton much earlier than he had hoped.
"Sir..."
Rousseau turned, his gaze more sharp than before, watching him intently. He had the indistinct feeling as if those blue eyes could pierce his soul, look directly through all his walls and see the slimy dark creature that was his true self. He shivered.
"I do not need sick workers here, McDermott. Go home and rest." His gaze softened a little, but it didn't do anything to dissolve his fears. On the contrary. He knew those kinds of looks only too well.
"Come back when you are feeling better." The blue glance lingered on him a second longer before the Frenchman turned and went back to his own work. He sighed, wrapping his arms around his waist when another shiver, more violently this time, shook his body. So it had to be Ashton tonight. At least he hadn't lost his employment. //

"Pierre continued to be there for me, even though I was just a mere worker. He made a real effort and we became good friends after a while, but I couldn't kick the habit." Franklin smiled wryly. "And it wasn't for lack of trying from Pierre's side. All I did was promise that I would turn away from the addiction, but I couldn't and by the time, I was in too deep. I had a circle I serviced and they paid good."

//Violent shivers, white hot agony clawing through his entire body, sweat soaking his shirt and the bed underneath him ... he moaned when a soft hand carefully put a cool wet piece of cloth on his forehead.
"Pierre," he whispered, his voice rough and shaking, "please, Pierre, I need it ... just a little bit. Help me, please, give me something?"
Blue eyes watched him sadly.
"Tu m'as promis, mon ami. You have promised me, John. You broke it, again. Why?"
"You have no idea ... Pierre, I need it, it's my medication." He reached out pleadingly, wrapping his fingers around his friend's forearm. "You can see how sick I am without... please, Pierre, what do I have to do? I'll do it, you know. Whatever you want, I'll do it. I know you want it, you want ..."
"Non!" Pierre snapped, turning away sharply, pulling his arm out of his grip. "I don't want that, and you know it. Stop it."
He grimaced, riding out another wave of pain and nausea.
"You're like everybody else," he muttered, "of course you want it."
Pierre just looked at him, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, totally missing the deep sadness in his friend's expression.//

He clenched his hands and stared at the white knuckles.
"But it got out of hand. I was a toy... to be used. That's what they did..." Franklin screwed his eyes shut. "When Pierre found me, I was beaten, bruised, and I had bleeding wounds. The riding crop bit deep... through skin and flesh... the guy using it had had no experience."
Ecklie glanced at the two vampires listening silently to the horrifying story and found they were as shocked as he felt. Ezra's lips were a thin line and Chris looked ready to kill the people who had done this to a young man who had lived two hundred years ago.
"Pierre... he helped me. He got me medication, he took me to a doctor who would help a boy like me... and he paid him handsomely. I didn't know who he was at the time, or what, just that he was paying for everything, nursed me back to health... and I thought he wanted me for himself." Franklin laughed darkly. "No one would spend so much money on damaged goods otherwise. I couldn't work, I couldn't sell my body the way I looked - I would have died without him."

//"Mon Dieu !!  Qu'ils ont fait à tu ?!"
Pierre. Good Pierre, always there for him. Losing his English vocabulary when angry. And right now the Frenchman was more than just angry. He tried to answer, tried to move, but all he could do was groan when the pain shot through his abused body. Cool hands on his body, making him flinch not only because they were touching the abused and bleeding areas, removing his torn and filthy clothing.
"Shhh, I'll be careful ... oh my god... " A shocked gasp at his back. He could only imagine how he might look, but he definitely knew how he felt.
"Your back... were you whipped?"
He could only nod, clenching his eyes shut against the pain and the memory of the crop cutting into his flesh while something else was...  his stomach turned, and he retched, but nothing would come out.
"God, John... you are bleeding."
Pierre didn't refer to his back this time, and again he could only nod. Fingers ghosted over the raw flesh that was left of his wrists, sad eyes bore into his.
"It's already infected. When did this happen, mon ami?"
"Don't know... what day...?"
"Today is Wednesday. When I came back from Bristol and didn't see you at work, Ian told me you hadn't shown up in days. I came immediately."
"Sunday... "
 This time Pierre swallowed down his gasp of shock.
"I'll get a doctor."
"Pierre... can't afford... "
"I can."//

"He turned you?" Ezra asked quietly, the first thing he had said in a long time.
"No. He didn't. He let me go through withdrawal and the pain of a healing body. Like I said, I didn't know who he was back then. And I tried to make it up to him the only way I thought I knew. I came on to him, offered myself, and he turned me down. The first time my brain worked without drugs he told me he didn't expect anything of me - just a promise. Never to do this again. He would pay for my expenses as long as I kept clean." A small smile started.

//"You can't do this again, John. It is far too dangerous, as you already know."
"Of course I know that, Pierre, but what else am I supposed to do? I lost my employment at the docks, I haven't learned anything else than working with my hands. Well, except for working with the rest of my body, that is."
His friend shook his head.
"What about working with your brain for once?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You can read, ne c'est pas?"
"Oui, I can read, you know that. So?"
"Then READ!"
A large pack of books was slammed down in front of him. He looked at them, totally dumbstruck at the sudden and entirely unexpected outburst. Hesitantly he took one of them, letting his hands ghost over the heavy leather cover, the gold cut pages.
"These are precious, Pierre. I can't ... "
"Oh yes, you can! Look," the voice of his companion softened as he sat down at his side, "nobody can take away what's in your mind, what you have learned. You can lose employments, money, even friends, but when you have learned something, it's yours forever."
He looked at the heavy volume in his hands, opened it and read the title, before slamming it shut again.
"You expect me to learn... study *this*? Pierre..."
"I know you can do that, John. You are not dumb, au contraire. I wouldn't have brought them to you if I had only the slightest doubt."
"Pierre, I... " looking into his friend's open face, he felt something stir inside him.
"I don't know how."
Pierre smiled.
"I do."//

"Pierre told me back then that he had been a teacher at a school in Paris once."
Franklin smirked.
"Turned out later that 'school' had been the Sorbonne and he had been a tutor there - for physics and engineering, can you believe that? Unfortunately he somehow missed to mention the year."

// "Sorbonne? Pierre, you are a ... a... "
"That was a long time ago, John. It is not worth mentioning."
"A long time? Pierre, you're not that old... let me guess, 30? That's damn young for a professor."
"I am older than I look."
"Really?"
"Really.//
 

"I kept clean, even got a decent job. I didn't find out about him until a long time later... almost a year after we met."

//"You are WHAT?"
Stumbling back several feet he fought down the urge to grab the bible and hold it in front of him. Of course this was the 19th century, and who believed in such myths anyway? Pierre sighed, but made no attempt to follow him.
"I am a vampire, John. The undead, if you will. Creature of the night, Nosferatu, however you name it."
Was it just his imagination, a trick of the dim lamplight, or were his friend's eyes glowing in an unearthly light?
"Vampire."
"Oui."
"And you're... drinking blood?"
"Oui, we are feeding off blood, but we do not kill, never." A short glance, an amused smirk.
"Don't you think that, if I had wanted to, I could have had you in the past? But," he waved a hand in an overly gesture, "here you are, safe and alive. And not in the need of using drugs anymore, I may add. You are reading, you are even learning my language."

*

He knew he still waited for the other shoe to drop. Sure, Pierre had taken care of him, had helped him fight his addiction, had taught him his language, had even taught him what he knew about economics and physics, and had never touched him. He had told him his deepest secret. But at what cost? Sooner or later he would want something from him, and he had a good impression what this might be. So, better take things in his own hands.
Pierre pushed the book over to him to point out a special paragraph, but he just looked at the Frenchman. He was an attractive man, and from what he had learned in the past, most certainly not violent. It wouldn't be too hard. His friend seemed to sense his glance and looked up.
"John?"
He walked over to where the man was sitting, knowing that his smile held a promise of things to come. He could smile that way, Ashton had told him often enough his mouth was a sin in itself. Pierre frowned when he came near, looking at him in confusion as he slid down on his knees in front of the man.
"John, is everything in order?"
"Oh yes... " Placing his hands on the other man's thighs, gently stroking upwards he felt the muscle under his fingers tighten. So, he didn't want him that way? Right.
"You've done so much for me in the past, Pierre. I just want to thank you."
"It is all right."
"No, I want to... thank you properly." Spreading those legs, his hands slid upward, leaving no mistake as what he was planning, reaching the groin, hearing the other man gasp... oh yes, you DO want me, I knew it...
His wrists were snatched away, held in a vice like grip; and when he looked up it was him gasping in shock. He was looking at one furious vampire.
"Non, merde! Je t'ai dit non!"
Blue eyes, glowing with a diamond like sparkle, flashed lightning at him.
"How many times have I told you I do not want this from you? How many times have I... mon Dieu, John! Just because somebody is nice to you, it does not mean he wants to play with you. You do not have to do this ever again; unless you want to share it with someone out of your own free will."
"So you want me to give it willingly? I am... "
"No, you are not! There is some twisted thing inside you telling you that this is all you are worth, your body and what you can do with it is all that you are. That is not correct. You are a kind soul, John McDermott, and you have a sharp mind. Use it!"
With that Pierre let go of his wrists, and he crumpled to the ground. Pierre simply waited, watching him regaining his composure. After a while he looked up, looking into those blue eyes, now normal again.
"Then what are you gaining out of this?" he whispered.
"A friend, John. That is all I ask of you." //

Ecklie didn't know he was moving until he crouched in front of his partner, hands resting lightly on the white-knuckled fists. Shared pain and the need to help his lover coursed through him but Franklin wouldn't look up, wouldn't meet his eye.
"You never told me," he said softly.
"You never asked."
"It's not a dinner conversation topic, love."
Finally the blond head lifted and turmoiled eyes met his briefly before flitting away.
He didn't notice Chris and Ezra leaving silently, concentrating only on the man before him.
"Franklin?" he asked softly.
"I'm fine."
"Sure."
"It's been one hundred and eighty years, Conrad."
Ecklie enveloped the clenched hands in his. Franklin felt cold and there were little shivers coursing through his body.
"Let's go," he said softly, getting to his feet.
The vampire rose almost automatically with him, swaying a little. He wrapped an arm around the lithe figure and felt Franklin lean closer. The trip to their shared room, the guest room, was short and he was thankful they weren't staying at a hotel. He didn't think he could have driven a car now.
Closing the door after them, he deposited Franklin on the bed and went to close the window, which had been left open to let some of the now cool night air in. As he turned, he discovered that his lover had already pulled off his shirt. Ecklie's eyes fell on the scar he had noticed early on in their relationship. It was long, thin and looked old. Stretching over the lower right quadrant of the slender back, it was one of two marks. The other was higher up on Franklin's shoulder. He had asked him once and the vampire had said something vaguely about an accident when he had been still human.
Accident.
Right.
Ecklie bit down on the anger that rose inside of him at the thought of the people who had done this. In his line of work he had seen a lot of gruesome and cruel things. The dead boy from Chris's case had been nothing new and while a vicious crime, it was also nothing that warranted headlines or made it on the frontline news. A small article, if at all. Only the criminalists might know the boy's name one day. If no one claimed the body, he would be buried as a John Doe, with a case file number and no family to mourn him. And his own family, the one who might just be out there somewhere, waiting and hoping, would never know.
"Conrad?"
The tentative question drew him out of his thoughts and Ecklie was suddenly aware of how he had stared at Franklin's back. He closed the distance.
"You lied to me about the scars," he said softly, no accusation in his voice. One hand stroked over the marked shoulder blade.
Franklin caught the hand and interlaced their fingers. "It's nothing I'm proud of," he replied, gazing at their hands. "And I didn't know... if... when you found out..."
"You think I might have reacted badly? Pushed you away?"
An imperceptible nod.
Ecklie sat down next to his lover and gazed at the drawn features. "I thought we were life partners."
Franklin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, releasing the breath slowly. "Yes, we are. I love you very much and... I never felt this before, Conrad. With anyone. Ever. I'm scared to think that you'd go and never come back. My past... is not exactly something I'm proud of."
"You never told me about yourself before, Franklin. I know very little of you."
A wry smile. "Well, I'm not a movie vampire version, Conrad, as you figured by now. I'm not of noble blood, no son of a lord or a duke or whatever. My mother got pregnant when she was sixteen and my father left her when I was three. She had three more men in her life and none ever stayed. I was fifteen when she died in an industrial accident. By then I was already a whore and junkie."
Ecklie still held the hand that now clenched his tightly.
"All my own children were like me. I'm not sure why... probably because I wanted to save them from a life that had nearly destroyed me. I made a mistake in Alicia. She was too far gone already, but she managed to pull the wool over my eyes. She killed everyone, almost Ezra too, all because her brain had already suffered from all the crap she had inhaled or swallowed or injected herself with. And because she had been conditioned by her last 'master' to serve only one. She saw me as her new owner and when she figured out she had competition, namely the others, she killed them all."
Franklin sighed deeply, looking exhausted.
"My whole life... before I was turned.... It was nothing but a long, dark night that finally turned into day when Pierre turned me. But I couldn't really live it because I tried to make up what I had missed. I fucked who I wanted... never too long with one partner... always moving, looking."
Gray eyes held Ecklie's darker ones and he found himself mesmerized by the vulnerability, their depths. He was shocked to realize that what Franklin was telling him was that he had never committed, never loved enough to stay. He had always moved on, afraid to open up. And now here they were, two very messed-up people, one who had healed through the vampire in his life, and now the vampire was trying to cope with his own dark memories.
Franklin loved him. He had fought for him, had tried to make this work, and it was probably the most he had ever put into a relationship.
For them.
And then something else struck him. Vampires who had sired a rogue were no longer allowed to have more offspring. That meant... Ezra was Franklin's only child and there would never be another.
Ecklie cupped the haggard face and rubbed a thumb over the pale skin. How could this man still let anyone touch his body after the past experiences? How could he turn his back on someone who might just do the same his old tormentors had done? How could he stand a touch that might suddenly turn into bruising strength? Even as a vampire, Franklin could still get hurt.
Franklin covered Ecklie's hand with his own and turned it to kiss the tender skin of his wrist.
"As a vampire, rough play isn't dangerous, nor deadly," he said softly, answering the unspoken question.
"Rough play?"
"The hunting skill. I could hurt you, kill you, if I let go, but not with another vampire."
Yes, Ezra had explained that before, too.
"I can be a bottom and not have panic attacks, Conrad. What happened is long past. A memory, parts of it very hazy, but it's not dominating my life."
Ecklie ran questing fingers over one wrist, seeing the very faint scars of a painful past. Rope burns. Only now that he looked did he see the almost invisible evidence.
"I can't stand to be... bound, though," Franklin whispered. "I never could let any of my bed partners do that to me, tie me up... It's why I never offered you this chance. It's a way to curb the danger of the hunting skill for a human."
Ecklie's face darkened. "I'm not into bondage, Franklin. I never was and I'd never ask something like it of you."
The vampire smiled slightly, then leaned forward and kissed Ecklie gently, pulling him close. There was a sudden hiss of pain and the body in his arms stiffened briefly.
"Conrad?" he asked, confused.
"It's okay," came the slightly pain-filled reply.
He met the dark eyes and suddenly shivered. "You're hurt..."
"It's just a bruise, Franklin."
Trembling fingers ghosted over the front of the dark shirt until they were caught in strong hands.
"Just a bruise," Ecklie repeated.
A bruise from his blow against the other man's chest. He could have broken bones, seriously hurt his lover, and it was sheer luck that nothing had happened...
Franklin opened the buttons and pushed the shirt open. His eyes widened at the colorful bruise spreading over Ecklie's chest.
"Oh my god..."
His hands were caught again and he looked into his lover's warm eyes. "I'm not bleeding, there aren't any broken bones, just a bit of bruising. It was an accident."
"It shouldn't have happened," the vampire whispered, feeling crushed. "I shouldn't have attacked you!"
"It was an emotional reaction."
He glared. "So if I hurt you while making love, that would be okay, too?"
"Franklin..."
"I lost it, Conrad. I totally lost it and I didn't realize it was you touching me!"
Ecklie pulled him close, feeling the tremors racing through the slender frame.
"I'm sorry," the blond whispered. "I'm sorry..."
He ran his fingers through Franklin's hair, one hand rubbing over the naked back.
They sank onto the bed, lying together, neither man asleep. Franklin just held on to his partner, felt the gentle strokes and pats, and he tried to relax, but he couldn't. So much had happened and where he had expected others to leave, he now had someone to stay with him. Willingly.
"Franklin?" Ecklie asked after some time.
"Hm?"
"Tell me...?"
"About...?"
"What made you decide to become a vampire."
Franklin tensed, then sighed softly.

//"John, I... I want to ask you something."
"What is it?"
He felt the vampire's gaze lingering on his face, thoughtful and somewhat insecure, and his eyebrows rose. Pierre never was insecure, so this must be something important.
"I will leave England."
Now that came as a shock. In the past years, Pierre had been there for him with whatever had come up, had helped him fight his addiction, going through a relapse with him, had put up with his twisted picture of himself - and even straightened it up - short, he had been his friend. His only friend. And now he was leaving.
"Where to?" he managed to ask quietly.
"America."
"When?"
"Next month. But that is not what I wanted to ask."
"Then what is it?"
"John I have told you about the community of vampires, about the rules we live by, about the way we - reproduce."
"Yes?"
"I have been given permission to sire a child."
Now that came as a total surprise.
"Who?" he asked flatly.
"You. If you want to, that is."
"Me? You want me to become ... "
"A vampire. John, I see so many things in you, and there is so much out there just waiting for you. As I once said, you have a sharp mind, and you are curious. Staying here in Plymouth only makes you go back to the things you know, especially when I am no longer here. No, you have to admit that I am right with that. And going back will kill you. I couldn't have that. I already love you like I would love a son of mine. I offer you this: come with me as my child, my son. Be at my side as long as you wish, see what this world had to offer you."
"And exchange one addiction with another? Only be able to go out at night, live off blood, be a monster ..."
"That's what you see in me? A monster? Am abomination?"
Pierre retreated and he understood that he had hurt his friend, and deeply.
"I'll ... think about it."
"You do that. And John?"
"Yes?"
"Even if you decide you don't want to follow this path, I'd ask you to come with me."
 

And he had thought about it, three entire days and nights, looking at it from every angle he could imagine. Pierre had given him all the time he had needed, and now he had come to a decision. Standing in front of his friend's home he knocked once, not surprised when the door swung open immediately. He had already learned that a vampire had an excellent hearing.
"I made my decision."
Pierre just looked at him for a second before he stepped aside, asking him in wordlessly. He walked into the warm room, and sat down in front of the flickering fire.
"There's nothing here holding me, Pierre. I'll come with you."
There was an unspoken question in his friend's eyes and he simply nodded.
"I'll take your offer. All of it. Turn me."
Pierre smiled at him, kneeling at his side, and there was this intense gaze again.
"You mean it." It wasn't a question, yet he nodded.
"Yes. Do it."
Nimble fingers gently stroked his wrist, slightly glowing eyes watched him. The fingertips left tickling traces behind, and he felt his breathing speed up with more than anticipation or anxiety.
"I'll make it good, I promise. You won't hurt."
Lips touched his wrist, trailing up the sensitive skin on the inner side of his arm in a kiss that was much more than that of a lover, and he moaned at the fiery sensation running through his body, Falling back against the soft curtain he felt himself harden with a desire that was more than sexual, moaning with a sudden need he had never felt before. His breathing becoming ragged, heart hammering in his chest he spread his legs, whimpering when he was touched. With the blinding fire rushing through his veins, concentrating itself in his groin and exploding in a hurricane of pleasure as he cried out a completion that was unlike any he had experienced before, he didn't notice the pair of lips still attached to his wrist. And slowly gliding into a sated afterglow he closed his eyes, not attentive to his faltering heartbeat, and not caring, too.
Pierre Rousseau picked the limp lifeless form of his soon-to-be-son effortless up and carried him into his bedroom, placing him gently onto the bed. He gently cleaned the lithe body of their earlier encounter, before he placed a soft kiss onto the white forehead.
"Au bientôt, mon fils."//
 

The ocean breeze was playing with his Sire's long black hair as they were standing on the deck, watching the ship's bow cut through the waves toward a new coast.
"I am so glad that you have decided to come with me to the 'new world', John. "
"Uh, Pierre - this is a new beginning in a new world, even a new life for me, right?"
"Oui?"
"John McDermott died in Plymouth. I am Franklin."
"If that is what you wish, mon fils."
"Oui, mon père."//

"I don't think John died," Ecklie said, playing with the sandy blond hair. "He's still here with you."
Franklin shook his head. "I'm not him. I haven't used the name since that day on the boat. He's one of the many missing people of that time, probably killed, but Franklin came to America."

* * *

Ezra sat on the couch, wrapped in Chris's arms, staring at the fire place. His thoughts were whirling with the revelations of the last hours and he just couldn't put his mind around the fact of what Franklin had told him.
Abused, beaten and raped as a young man, saved by his later sire, fleeing from a life that would have killed him sooner more than later. A drug addict who had tried to kick it, who had relapsed, who had fought everything in his life until one single man had managed to get through that drug-muddled mind. One man who had taught him more than life ever had. One man who had later given him the choice to become a vampire.
"Changes your mind about him, hm?" Chris murmured into his ear.
"I had already changed it," Ezra answered just as softly.
"But not completely. You were still unconsciously uncomfortable with him around; he reminded you of everything."
Ezra sighed. "Okay, true," he confessed. "I thought he was some pampered, blue-blooded son-of-a-bitch who had taken a life out of fun. Yes, he told me it had been because of the hunger, but I never really believed it. Then one of his children kills all the others, nearly me too, and he didn't even show a reaction. I thought he was cold and an asshole."
"He's a man whose past was locked away under a different name," Chris said calmly.
"Yes. It's kind of a shock to find out that he's just as vulnerable and human as me."
"At least he has a partner to share his life with now."
Ezra nodded. Franklin had changed a lot ever since meeting Conrad. Even before, after they had come into contact again, Ezra had noticed subtle differences, but Ecklie had worked wonders on this man - probably unknowingly.
His eyes strayed to the darkness outside. Normally they would have gone to one of the many clubs or bars in town, maybe even the Grotto, talk, have some fun, but now that was out of the question.
Chris kissed his neck. "Merry Christmas," he murmured.
Ezra chuckled wryly. Yes, it was already past midnight. Today was the 25th. He turned in his lover's arms and kissed him on the lips, drawing out the loving contact until he registered the questing fingers drawing patterns on his skin.
"Merry Christmas," he breathed, eyes glowing softly.
They just lay together on the couch, comfortable in each others arms, Ezra wondering what to do now. Franklin was carrying a heavy load of emotional baggage and there was nothing anyone could do.

* * *

Franklin left the bed after two hours of simply holding each other. Ecklie was dozing and Franklin snuck out of the room, unable to stay put any longer. He needed some solitude, he needed to think, and he had to come to terms with what he had said and done.
He had attacked his lover.
Biting his lower lip he picked his way through the dark and quiet house until he reached the large terrace leading into the forest behind the mansion. Franklin stopped outside on the tiled floor, eyes on the tall trees moving gently in the cool breeze of the night, and he inhaled deeply, letting the air clear his head.
He had attacked Conrad, had nearly hurt him... and only Chris's intervention had saved his lover from harm.
Because Franklin had lost it. Lost it over memories so old, they were history. He had dealt with the life and times of John McDermott! John was dead, he was the past... but not completely. All the decades, the nearly two centuries, hadn't been able to erase the atrocities done to him.

//Hands pushing him down on his knees, weaving into his hair.
"You know what to do, my pet."
He was pushed forward, toward the man's exposed hardness. Shivering once he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Oh yes, he knew.
Hands on his naked body, stroking, teasing, pinching, lips claiming his, both male and female ... he couldn't get himself to really care. He had done this before, Ashton paid him much better for being everybody's plaything, and he'd rather do one evening a week's ration worth than doing Ashton three times a night.
Ropes were wrapped around his wrists, tying his hands tightly above his head. That was new.
"No, I don't ... don't ... Ashton, no ..."
Frantically looking around, trying to make out the face of the man who had introduced him to this circle. Then he was there, cupping his face.
"I'll pay you double, pet." Hands wandering down his body, spreading his legs, other hands holding him down... oh god, no, this was definitely getting out of hand now.
"You want this, wanted this for a long time, I know. Be a good pet."
"No ... " Eyes widening as the shock of realization pierced his drug fogged brain ... the same moment something else that wasn't human flesh pierced his body. His scream was cut off by a cloth.
It wasn't the last one that night.//

Soft steps, deliberately loud for vampire ears, alerted him to the presence of another. He drew himself out of the nightmarish memories, shivering. A steady hand held out a small plastic container. A shake.
Franklin looked at the smaller man, green eyes meeting his own. "Thank you," he said softly and took the drink.
 

//"You did WHAT?" Are you even remotely aware of what you have done?!"
He looked at his furious Sire miserably.
"I know I have killed a man... I'm so sorry... "
"Being sorry does not even cover half of it! Running away the way you did - you are not even halfway prepared to be what you are now. And a man paid with his life for your cockiness and thoughtlessness. Much more ... you know the rules, Franklin."
Pain-filled blue eyes looked at him, strong hands cupping his jaws in a gesture he had come to recognize as paternal affection.
"You know you could be sentenced to death, mon fils. Killing is a crime punished equally. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, so nothing will endanger the community. I have taught you that."
"I know," he whispered. He didn't exactly remember the incident, only flashes of excruciating hunger, spiked by the scent of fresh blood all around him - and then the opportunity presenting itself to him.
"I'm sorry."
"I know." His Sire's voice was soft and sad, but it didn't waver. "Let's face the trial."
 

"Fifty years?! My punishment is fifty years of *house arrest?* I don't believe they did that..."
"Be thankful, mon fils. You will live."
"Yes, but ... "
Pierre whirled around, using his entire power to press him against the next wall.
"Be thankful," he hissed, eyes glowing, "you live. This is a second chance for you, to learn, to grow. Take it. I do not want my one and only child ever to become a rogue."
"One and... Pierre, you can sire others, you have just... "
"Non! Il est défendu. I will never be given permission to sire another child ever again. That is my punishment."
"But ... I don't understand ... "
Pierre sighed and let him go, all anger vanished as sudden as it had come.
"Learn this, Franklin. The Child is the Sire's responsibility. The choice speaks about the Sire as of the Child itself. If the Child fails, the choice had been a wrong one, so obviously the Sire had shown wrong judgment. He or she will not given the chance to do so again. That are the rules."
He stood stunned, watching his Sire turn and leave.
"I'm sorry... " he whispered. But Pierre had been right: sorry wasn't enough.//

"I'm sorry," Franklin whispered. "For everything. For taking your life, for leaving you..."
"You didn't know, Franklin," Ezra replied calmly.
"That's no excuse. I should have, but I was too inexperienced. I was out of my mind from hunger, there was blood everywhere... and I didn't think." Franklin started to tremble. "I should have thought of the possibility, but I didn't."
Ezra gazed at the troubled man.
"I just ran and when Pierre found me, he took me someplace safe. When he found out what I had done... he lost it. I had killed someone. I had killed you."
"For a while," Ezra added, smiling thinly.
Pained eyes met his. "No, forever. I took your life... a life that would have continued at the side of your lover for a lot longer. You lost everything. Your life... your love... because of me. I took Chris from you. Everything."
Ezra closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "But I found someone else."
"After one hundred and fifty years of pain!" Franklin argued. He clenched his hands into fists. "I had no right..."
"No, you didn't," the younger vampire agreed.
Franklin flinched and stared out into the cool night.
"But I survived," Ezra added.
"How?" came the almost shy question.
"Sheer luck. I killed a girl to quench the hunger inside me, a working girl."
The lines in Franklin's face deepened. "Because no one misses them," he whispered.
Ezra's eyes darkened. "Something like it, yes. After that, I only lived off animals. Rats, cats, dogs, the occasional cattle or horse. It took me years to find others like me. They could have killed me, had every right to do so. I was a rogue, had killed a human being, but they let me live - after they discovered I had had no sire to guide me. I was very lucky... but back then I felt death would have been better."
Franklin scrubbed a hand over his face. "I wish I could have been there for you, Ezra. You're my oldest child, my only child. Instead I bore the wrath of my sire, the community, everyone. I sired more children, all with the same history in drugs and prostitution I have. I wanted to give them a chance, I gave them a choice, but I never gave you one."
He shook his head, laughing darkly.
"Pierre paid for my crime, too. I was his first child and I remained his last. Because I had killed a human, because I had gone rogue, he was accused of having no judgment when it came to turning humans. He wasn't allowed to sire more of our kind and I know he had wanted to give this gift to a woman we had met on our journey. He was furious, but he never punished me."
Franklin's shoulders hunched over. They stood in silence together for a while, Ezra keeping a close eye on the troubled man at his side. He had gotten to know more about Franklin than he ever would have thought. His 'sire's' past was so completely different from what Ezra had always thought it must have been. John McDermott had been a tormented soul, addicted to drugs, used by people, and only one man had held out a hand to pull him out of this swamp. Strangely, all that pain made him all the more human in Ezra's eyes. Their very first meeting had left him with the impression of a man who had had a life of luxury and niceties, who had never felt what Ezra had gone through as he had struggled to come to terms with what he had become. With his own death, with losing his lover, his life, everything.
Now... now he saw a different picture and it scared him. Even though they had become tentative friends, even though Ezra no longer felt threatened by Franklin's presence, there had been tensions.
"After all that time, why did it come back now?" Franklin whispered, interrupting his thoughts. "I had a hundred and eighties years to deal with it!"
"I know why," Ezra replied quietly.
Franklin's eyebrows shot up in sheer surprise.
"Who were you in all those years as a vampire?"
"Come again?"
"Who were you really?" Ezra wanted to know. "You were Franklin. You let John McDermott die, but you didn't bury him. Yesterday he came back as a ghost to haunt you. You never dealt with what was done to you. Chris's case opened old wounds."
"I could deal with child prostitution and drug use in the past, too!" Franklin argued.
"Yes, by turning some of them."
The blond winced.
"It's laudable that you wanted to give them a chance and all but one used their new lives to make something of themselves," Ezra went on. "But they were all killed. You were stripped of rank and position and privileges."
"I call it freedom, Ezra," Franklin replied quietly.
"A freedom Franklin never had. You could suddenly be yourself. And part of John McDermott came back in that time. You found Conrad, you love someone for more than a few good fucks and as a toy to play with. You want this man because you feel emotions, not because of some nether need, Franklin. All that is breaking free."
"Degree in psychology?" the blond asked, no venom or anger in his voice.
"Actually, yes." Ezra grinned. "Dr. Standish at your service."
A small smile graced Franklin's lips. "Thank you for listening."
"As long as it helps."
"In a way," he confessed. "I just wish I knew what to do now."
"Why is that so hard? You have someone who loves you, who wants to be with you, and Conrad is more than capable. He's your life partner, Franklin. You should tell him about your past, about your life. He has a right to know."
Franklin didn't say anything.
"Before tonight, did you tell him much about yourself?"
A shake of the head.
"Chris and I, we talked. At the stage your partnership is now, looking at how long you've been together, Chris knew about my life already. He knows the good times and the bad times." Ezra stepped in front of the taller man. "He has to know, Franklin. And he has a right to know. You're sharing more than a bed, my friend. You're sharing your soul."
Franklin inhaled shakily, then nodded.
"What a way to spend Christmas," he murmured.
Ezra chuckled. "It's not yet over and there are gifts you can give that don't need a lot of wrapping."
Franklin shot him a smirk. "How about you put the doctor of psychology back in the box and I promise to talk to Conrad?"
A dimpled grin was his answer.

* * *

Conrad Ecklie hadn't been asleep or even dozing very deeply when his lover had wriggled out of his loose embrace and left their room. He had given Franklin a little head start, then quietly gone after him. To his surprise, Ezra had been there, too. He had watched the two men, sire and child, had felt the need to be with Franklin rise exponentially at the pain he read in his lover's body language, but he knew now wasn't the time.
Turning away, he nearly ran into Larabee. Biting back a yelp, he glared at the other man. Chris just gave him a quick smile, then gestured with his head to leave the other two alone.
"Coffee?" Chris asked as they entered the kitchen.
"Got something stronger?"
A smile answered him. "Whiskey? Bourbon?"
"Bourbon."
Chris poured him a generous amount into a glass and both men settled on the couch. Ecklie gazed into the alcoholic liquid.
"Has been a lot in a short time, hm?" Chris asked.
"Kinda. But with such a long life, there are bound to be stories."
Chris smiled humorlessly. "We just heard one of them."
Ecklie nodded, sipping at the bourbon. He wondered if this was the worst he would have to deal with when it came to his partner. He wanted to know, but he was afraid to ask. Franklin's past was messed-up and he had thought the confrontation with Eric had been bad. This was worse. By lengths.
"How do I deal with this?" he asked softly.
"Each day at a time?" Chris offered.
A wry smile.
"Living together with a partner means sharing his past, too. You never know what you get. When I met Ezra, I knew what he was. When we got together, I didn't know all about him either. His past was full of revelations, too."
Another wry smile. "I guess."
"Tell me something, Conrad. Do you love him?"
Ecklie shot the blond man a surprised look. "Of course," he answered without hesitation.
"Then you'll find ways to deal with it all."
Chris suddenly looked up and Ecklie turned his head. Franklin had entered the living room and wide gray eyes looked at his lover.
Ecklie rose and approached him, drawn to the vulnerability the vampire exuded.
"Franklin," he said softly.
"Conrad, I..."
He just took him into his arms, holding him. "It's okay. We can get through this."
He felt Franklin's arms come hesitantly around him, then holding on, too.
"I love you," Ecklie whispered. "All of you."
Franklin buried his head against his neck, sighing. "Thank you."
"What for?"
"Being here. Staying with me."
Ecklie was stunned and pushed him back a little, trying to catch the open gaze. "What did you expect, Franklin? That I'll leave you? Because of something you had no control over? Something that happened so long ago? It was never an option!"
Franklin smiled dimly. "You are a remarkable man, Conrad Ecklie."
"No, I'm the only sane one here!" He smiled softly. "How about we get back to bed, you get some rest, and we talk about this tomorrow?"
Franklin shrugged. "Best idea I've heard so far."
Ecklie briefly glanced at the other two men, then they left.

*

Chris wrapped an arm around Ezra and gave him a little kiss. "I think they're getting there."
Ezra nodded. "Yes. So am I."
"Oh?"
"We talked some more. About a lot of things."
"So, you're okay now? Both of you?"
"I'm okay with my past," Ezra answered softly. "More than ever. I can believe him now."
Chris rested his head on the auburn head. "Good."
Finally.
Well, maybe something new could begin now. For all of them.

* * *

Franklin sat propped up against the head of the bed, looking at the man sleeping peacefully at his side. He studied the relaxed features and ran a hand through the short hair. He smiled as he remembered their night of loving. It had been slow and gentle. Not that it had been something extraordinary. They had had such nights before, but this time it meant more for Franklin. A lot more. The soft touches, the tender smiles, the gentle kisses, and the loving words, they all managed to chase away memories that had come back unbidden to haunt him in his new life. Ecklie had dozed off in his arms, spent and relaxed, and he had just held him.
It wasn't over just like that, but it was a first step.
Sleepy eyes opened and he smiled as his lover blinked at him. Franklin leaned forward and kissed Ecklie, feeling the other man react gently.
"Awake?" Franklin murmured against his partner's mouth.
"Reasonably."
"Good. Merry Christmas."
A smile. "Merry Christmas, Franklin John McDermott."
Franklin felt something tremble through him at the name and a warm hand rubbed over his side.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
Ecklie shot him a skeptical look, but he didn't ask.
"Franklin?" he asked after a while.
"Hm?"
"Will I ever get to know my father-in-law?"
Franklin's eyebrows dipped in confusion, then shot up. He laughed softly, for the first time in two days really feeling like laughing.
"Pierre?" he wanted to know.
A nod.
"Father-in-law?" the vampire teased.
"Well, seeing as to how we're life-partners... and he's your sire... yes." Dark eyes sparkled with amusement.
Franklin caressed the narrow face, kissing him gently. "You're right. I think Pierre would have loved to meet you."
Ecklie's expression changed abruptly. "Oh... I'm sorry, Franklin."
He cupped his lover's face. "It's okay, love. He died a long time before you were born. He was involved in an airplane crash in 1938. Vampires can be killed, Conrad, and while he could have come back from fatal injuries of a plane crash after a long time of regeneration, the people in that plane burned to death."
Ecklie's hand rubbed over his side, dark eyes holding his. "I wish I could have met him."
Their lips met and Franklin willing slid over the warm body, feeling regret join the memories of his past. He had mourned his sire's passing, but he had never let it touch him. Today he wished he could introduce his life partner to the man who had given him his second chance in life. Burying his head against Ecklie's shoulder, kissing and licking at the tempting flesh, he banished all those thoughts.
His past was just that: past. He had a future he was looking forward to, a future he wanted to share with this man.

* * *

Crime didn't stop just because of the holiday season or because one criminalist had been vacationing for a few days. Conrad came back to death, blackmail, extortion and burglaries, slipping into the routine easily. Work also meant distraction from the truth of Franklin's past. While his lover appeared to be back to normal, Ecklie couldn't forget the pain and despair he had seen in those gray eyes, had heard in the normally so smooth voice, and he wondered if the ease and normalcy weren't just a ruse. No one could just turn his back on horrors like these, pretend everything was okay. No one.
Not even a two centuries old vampire.
So he gave his lover room, distance, to decide how far they would go in their lovemaking. True, they had slept with each other that last night in Salt Lake, but Ecklie wondered if Franklin had truly enjoyed it or just gone along with the contact to ease Ecklie's mind.
It didn't help that one of his cases involved a rape victim who had survived her torments but bore the marks of the torture. She didn't talk to anyone, not even a psychologist, and the suspects were laughing in their faces. So far, there was no evidence, except their past relationship to the girl. No DNA had been found, thanks to condoms. It was frustrating, but it wasn't any different than all the other cases where persistence and just a knack of luck could change so much.
A week after their return, Ecklie came home, feeling slightly elated at having caught the rapist, though the girl was still not showing any progress. She was traumatized quite severely, probably the rapist had even threatened to kill her should she ever talk. For him, it was over. But not for her. Never for the victim. He understood why Grissom was such an advocate of the victims. In the past Ecklie had seen each case as a step closer to the top, to a promotion, to a career. That had changed and since then, his view of his work had changed as well.
Franklin was already home; no great surprise. Ecklie had pulled some overtime, but at least he now had a free weekend and they could celebrate New Year's. His lover smiled at him.
"Long day?"
"As usual."
Franklin kissed him, wrapping his arms around his waist. "It was also a long week."
For both of them.
Those lips were back, including a tongue, and Ecklie let his lover in, enjoying the deep contact. Nimble fingers sought warm skin and slipped deftly under his shirt, making him shiver.
"Conrad?" Franklin whispered, leaning his forehead against him.
"Hm?"
"I'm not made of glass."
Ecklie was silent, eyes closed, and bit his lower lip.
"I've had a very long time to deal with this. I know some people never do, especially considering the extent of it, but it's been a three-digit number of years, Conrad."
"It didn't stop the memories from coming back just a week ago."
Franklin sighed softly. "Yes. I hadn't dealt with them for real. At least John McDermott never did."
"And who are you now?" Ecklie looked seriously at the other man.
"I'm the man who loves you, Conrad."
"But you're also John."
Franklin nodded slowly. "I'll always be him," he said softly. "I realized that now. I'm him, but I'm also Franklin. I'm two people and one has finally dealt with the atrocities done to him."
Ecklie rubbed a gentle thumb over the pale cheek. "It's just... how can you let someone touch you... when those memories are back now?"
"Because I trust you, more than anyone. I love you, Conrad. You know I've slept with different people in the past and my history was never a problem."
"Because it was John's past."
"Yes, in a way. But now it's mine, too."
"Franklin, I deal with rape victims at work and I know what kind of trauma it inflicts on a human being..." Ecklie tried.
The vampire smiled slightly and hugged him closer. "Believe me, I'm dealing with it all. My way. With you and with Ezra. You both helped me. Treating me like some porcelain doll doesn't help, though."
"Okay," he murmured. "Okay."
Franklin pulled him over to the couch and made him sit down, his back to him, and started a slow, gentle massage. Ecklie sighed softly, eyes sliding shut, as tense muscles were expertly manipulated.
"So, what are your plans for New Year's?" Franklin whispered into one ear.
"You, me, at home."
A chuckle. "No party?"
"I'm not a party animal, but if you want to go..."
Franklin kissed his neck. "No. Home is fine. Just us, some classic movies, nice dinner..."
Ecklie sank against the strong body behind him and smiled. "Sounds wonderful."
The vampire wrapped his arms around him and out an upside down kiss on his lips. "Yes, it does."