The door of the house opened and Francis stepped out. He gestured for Mark to come inside, so he turned the engine off and exited the car. He locked the vehicle and then went to Francis who just opened his arms and hugged him for a moment.
He didn’t ask if Mark had had a rough night, he knew.
“Come, I’ll make you hot cocoa and something to eat,” he said quietly.
Mark followed him into the house and sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands as he processed the evening’s final call.
It was one of the kids who had called, saying their parents were fighting and it sounded really scary. Mark had sped to get there in time, because his hunch had told him this time would be different. He’d been right, of course, but for once he would’ve given anything to have been wrong.
He’d gotten to the house and the biggest of the kids had come to open the door as soon as he was out of the cruiser. He’d seen the blood on the girl’s arm, and it had made sense as soon as he got inside with his weapon drawn and firmly pressed against his thigh, just in case.
Mrs. Young had been sitting on the couch with the children. She’d looked relieved and defeated at the same time.
“Here, drink that.” Francis put a mug on the table.
Mark took it and blew into the steaming cocoa.
Mrs. Young had pointed him toward the bedroom in the back and… yeah. She’d shot her husband in the chest. The kids had been in the other room to hear it all. Mrs. Young had been beaten badly, and she was hiding the pain from the children as best as she could.
Mark had secured Mr. Young’s pistol, called an ambulance and made sure she wasn’t moving around as they waited. She’d told him what had happened and he’d written it down, while the children stared at his gun that was back in its holster on his hip. Mark had taken photos of the bedroom and a few of the rest of the house, knowing the detective would appreciate it. It was a clean case, but there were things that had to be done.
Mrs. Young had started to lose consciousness just as the EMTs arrived, soon after followed by the funeral home people and the social workers who Mark had called while they waited.
It was a mess, all of it, straightforward as the incident itself was.
“Eat,” Francis said, pushing a bowl of pasta in front of him.
Francis pulled a chair closer and leaned to Mark’s side, a hand on his thigh for support as he forced himself to drink his cocoa and eat the food that was probably delicious, but he couldn’t taste right then.
All the while, Francis said nothing, just stayed closed and cleaned the table once Mark was done. Then he took his hand and pulled Mark up the stairs.
Together, they got Mark’s tool belt off and his gun put safely into a dresser drawer. Then Francis undressed him and took him to the shower.
“I’m sorry,” Mark whispered as Francis got into the tiny shower with him.
“No need. Anyone who works in law enforcement or in healthcare has had these kinds of nights.”
Francis pressed a kiss against the back of Mark’s neck and continued to wash off the evening.
Once they were in Francis’s bed, under the covers, Mark realized he wanted to talk.
“I never told you why I came to Acker, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.” Francis pulled him closer to his side and Mark laid his head on Francis’s chest.
“I jumped from one big city to the next a few times. Every time I’d leave after I… I witnessed the things LGBTQ people go through. Attacks on them just because….” He forced himself to relax.
Francis stroked his arm with his fingertips, firmly enough that he couldn’t ignore it and his body, once again, calmed down. His own hand rested on the mermaid tattoo on Francis’s ribs. He hadn’t asked about the significance, but he knew Francis well enough by now that there had to be some bigger meaning behind the beautiful image.
Francis didn’t prompt him or say that he didn’t have to continue telling him about the past. Mark realized that was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with this man. He just needed to find the courage to speak the words so Francis would know.
“The worst thing was a little boy in Detroit,” he started, then relayed the story to Francis who just squeezed him closer and kissed his hair until he was done talking.
“I remember reading about that case online. A side note on some news pages, a blog post somewhere else.” Francis sighed and Mark could feel the movement of him shaking his head.
“Yeah. And I was done, after that. I thought here I wouldn’t have to see that stuff. I could hide from the prejudice and….”
“And yourself.”
