Title: Picture Perfect
Author: sarcasticsra
Summary: A picture hides a thousand scars.
Pairing: n/a
Claim: Conrad Ecklie
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Theme: Set one, theme #40: pictures.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Yes. They’re all mine. Oh, and a purple chicken just walked by.
Author's Notes: Thanks for the beta, Kelly.

i. illusion

The photograph is old, crinkled, and in black and white. One of the corners is torn, and there’s a small stain at the top.

A petite woman sits in a hospital bed, smiling cheerfully, holding a small bundle in her arms. She looks exhausted, but content. A tall, handsome man stands next to her, smiling as well, and he looks every bit the proud new father. At first glance, they’re the essence of new parents—happy, excited, and loving.

(The stress lines on the woman’s face go unnoticed; the way the smile doesn’t quite reach the man’s eyes is never considered.)

ii. deception

The picture is small—not even large enough to be considered wallet size. It’s in color, and it looks like a yearbook photo.

A small boy is smiling brightly for the camera. He has brown hair and blue eyes, and he looks like he’s about to enter third grade. His blue shirt complements his eyes, and his boyish smile makes him look nothing short of adorable. It appears as though he’s just another kid ready for school to begin—anxious, excited, and curious.

(The faded bruises on his neck are never spoken of; the faint scar above his eye is completely ignored.)

iii. untruths

The photo is in color, and it doesn’t appear old so much as abused. There’s a tear nearly all the way through middle—it’s been mended with tape.

A picnic table is set for three. There’s a red grill half in the picture, and a tall man standing in front of it, cooking. A pretty woman with brown hair sits next to a teenager on the bench. They look like the typical family having a picnic—close, loving, and content.

(The faded burn marks on the teen’s arms are never wondered about; the worried look on the woman’s face is passed over.)

iv. lies

It’s a Polaroid snapshot, and it’s been bent—there’s a clear crease down the middle.

A young man stands on a stage, accepting a diploma. His bright blue graduation robes stand out from the grey background, and there’s a contented half smile on his face. He looks like he’s headed toward the center of the stage, where a brown podium stands. At first glimpse, he appears to be just like any other graduate—nervous, giddy, and full of wonder about the future.

(The sad, too-cynical look in the young man’s eyes is missed; the way his shoulders hunch is never even mentioned.)

v. cover-ups

The color photograph is pristine, as though it has just been developed yesterday. There are no smudges, no signs that anyone has ever touched it.

An older, portly woman in a black dress looks somber as she stands next to a tall, balding middle-aged man who wears a black suit. The woman is frowning, while the lips of the man are pursed into a fine line. They seem like any two people fresh from a funeral—saddened, grieving, and confused.

(The lack of grief in the woman’s eyes goes unseen; the relief etched on the man’s features is never talked about.)

vi. hidden

The box contains more pictures, of course, and they are of varying ages and in various conditions. It’s a Nike shoe-box and looks as though it has been through a lot, yet managed to survive the years, if only barely—the tape is evidence of that. The many pictures it contains are neatly sorted—black-and-white with black-and-white, color with color, Polaroid with Polaroid—and they appear to be arranged chronologically. It’s a methodical arrangement, orderly and sensible. The only thing that distracts from the whole thing is all the dust.

The pictures are sitting under the bed.

Their secrets will stay well hidden.

-End