(Mystery - something that is difficult or impossible to understand or explain)

Three days later saw Ivan sitting at his desk going over the latest case file connected to the case that, in his career, has never disturbed him more. 

The latest victim, a thirty-one-year-old male. His body was badly mutilated with deep lacerations across his abdomen, buttocks, penis and testicles. As he was flipping through the pictures the coroner had taken of the body, noticed something that looked familiar that was not present on the other victims' bodies, however the way in which each person was murdered, the bodily mutilations as well as a pendant gripped in each of their hands, as if placed there postmortem, was the same in each murder. The pendant was, in each case including this new one, St. Nicholas, the patron saint of whores. 

What caught Ivan's attention on this particular photo was a tattoo. Ivan frowned as he studied it but didn't recall a photo of this tattoo in any other of the files. 

He picked up his phone, dialing a number from memory. He listened, counting the rings on the other end. "Come on, damn it, answer." On the fifth ring someone answered. "Sam, hey, quick question on this case. The newest victim has a tattoo on his right hip. A long stem rose. Was that present on any of the others and photographic evidence wasn't taken, by chance?"

There was a pause before, "Not that I'm aware of. It wasn't mentioned before in the M.E.'s report. What's the significance? Think it's some kind of brand?"

Ivan's heart stammered at those words. "I'm not sure of the significance yet. I was just double checking. Maybe you'd caught something I'd missed."

"Sorry, no. I saw the photos but I just figured it was a run-of-the-mill tattoo."

"Alright, thanks, Sam. I'll let you know if I come up with something." He disconnected the call and stared at the tattoo. It was a symbol he knew intimately. A churning in his gut told him something was amiss. But he had no idea what. "There's no way he's connected to this..." he said to himself. A quick search of this person had discovered him a startling coincidence. Ivan sighed. This couldn't be right. 

When Ivan returned home he was greeted by Juno at the door; tail wagging and ears up. Corbin was sitting on the couch reading a Dean Koontz novel, his legs stretched along its length. He smiled at Ivan when he entered the living room, set his book aside and slid his feet to the floor. 

"Hey, baby. You look tired. Rough day?" Ivan sat down next to him, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

"Long. This case. It keeps throwing me curve balls." Ivan closed his eyes and sighed. "Cor...can I, um, can I ask you something?"

Corbin frowned. The hesitation in his voice scared him. "What?"

"The tattoo on your hip. Where did you get it?" Do you think it's some kinda brand? He did now. 

"Why?" Ivan watched Corbin's face closely. His body. He began shifting, fidgeting his fingers nervously around one another. 

"It's probably nothing. But off chance, do you know anyone by the name of Mark Franklin?"

At the name Corbin paled, though he schooled his expression quickly. "A long time ago."

"Corbin, he...he was killed last night."

Corbin closed his eyes inhaling a shaky breath. "How?

Ivan watched him. He was barely in control. "It's better if you don't know the details. Did you get the tattoos together?"

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded. "It was another lifetime. I...hadn't spoken to him in years. He...he was here? In Houston?"

Ivan wondered why the sudden panic filled the question. "Yeah. You didn't know? I mean, when y'all split ways, it wasn't in Houston?"

Corbin shook his head. "No. We went to Austin when we...left San Antonio. Spent the weekend there. And on a Sunday night on sixth street after some drinks, we went our own ways. I never saw him again."

Ivan knew he was telling the truth. But he was also aware that the story he'd been told was the Reader's Digest version. He chose not to comment. Corbin had never been open about his past and Ivan didn't want to push too much, too fast. From experience he knew that would not have the hoped for results. 

Ivan nodded. "I'm sorry, Cor. He seems to have meant something to you."

Corbin nodded. "He did. He...kept me alive." He said the last bit as if to himself.

Ivan frowned. "What do you mean?"

Corbin's eyes went to his hands that were clasping tightly to one another. "Ivan," Corbin said. He took a shaky breath as a tear fell from his eyes. 

"Baby, I don't want to make you relive whatever it is you're running from, but if you knew him...what if you knew the others?"

"Others?" Corbin covered his face, slowly inhaling. Exhaling. Ivan didn't say anything. His detective brain reeling. "What others?"

"Corbin..." Ivan exhaled. He didn't like discussing his work with him. He tried protecting Corbin from that side of his work. He didn't know much about Corbin's past other than the conclusions he'd drawn with deductive reasoning over the years of their relationship, but knew it was bad, and didn't want him to hear all the bad things he dealt with on a daily basis. 

"Ivan, please."

"If you want information, I need information in return. Can you do that?"

Corbin felt his heart break at not only Ivan's words but at the icy undertone in his voice. "Ivan. How can I tell you what I've been through? You'll never look at me the same. Nothing will be the same." Corbin hid his face in his hands, his body tense. Ivan could see he was shaking. He knew it wasn't fair of him to demand but it went further than them now. If Corbin held knowledge that could help stop this killer, he needed to know.

"Your past will never change how I feel about you. But Corbin, there's a killer going around. He's killed at least one person you were acquainted with. Baby, what if they're coming after you next?" At these words Corbin began sobbing. A wailing cry Ivan had never heard before from him. Ivan knew he'd struck a chord with those words. Ivan reached over his hand to Corbin's shoulder and he jumped with a small moan of protest, his shoulders shaking ever the harder. 

"Corbin." Ivan got no other response than more lamenting wails. "Baby, look at me." Corbin refused with a shake of his head, his face remaining covered with hands dripping water like a left-on tap. "Corbin." Ivan lightly gripped Corbin's wrists to try and pull his hands away from his face, but recoiled as if burned as Corbin began to scream. He didn't thrash or fight or try to get away. He simply bellowed the most heartbreaking sound Ivan had ever heard. Ivan didn't know what to do. In their three years he'd seen Corbin in many states of distress; but never like this. Snapping out of his shock, Ivan set his hands on Corbin's shoulders, shaking him once with a sharp call of his name. With one last shriek he quieted down, opening his fingers slightly to allow sight while still holding his face. His breathing was heavy, but was beginning to slow. Tears and sweat mixed on his face unnoticed. 

"What did they do to you, baby?" Ivan whispered this to himself as he raked his eyes slowly over Corbin's balled up, quivering form. 

Corbin looked at him, his hands slipping from his face, curling under his chin, seemingly to complete his human-ball shape of self-protection. Small sobs wracked his body as his mind conjured just exactly what they did to him. "They ruined me." His voice was barely perceptible. His reddened, glassy eyes met Ivan's then. "They ruined me, Ivan, before I had the chance to be...anything else. Please don't make me tell you, Ivan. Please. Please. Please don't make me. I can't. I can't see that look in your eyes. I can't see how you'd see me once you knew." Corbin sucked in his bottom lip, chewing with nervous, fearful fervor. 

Ivan sighed and closed his eyes, his head dropping in defeat. "How can I protect you if I don't know what I'm up against?"

"You can't protect me, Ivan. No one can protect me. If they want me. They'll find me. And they'll have me."

"Corbin, baby, who?" Corbin jumped slightly at his raised voice. His eyes a shade of fear Ivan had never witnessed. The fear was for him. The realization made Ivan break all contact and breathe deeply. He needed to calm down. He sighed. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere. He'd fix this another way. Protect him another way. Ivan was silent for the span of two hundred heartbeats, his eyes diverted to his folded, clenched hands. When he finally did speak, his voice was shaking, his eyes watering. He didn't look at Corbin as he spoke. "I love you, Corbin. I hope you know that. I hope you know that I will protect you. That I'd die protecting you. And if someone is...after you...even if you don't see me, Corbin, I won't leave you to the wolves."

Three days passed and Corbin was more jumpy than he'd seen him in a long time, if ever. At his desk Ivan sat in silence, his fingers steepled together, brows drawn together in deep thought. He picked up the phone. "Sammy, hey. It's me." Samuel Barnes was a long time friend of Ivan's dating back to middle school. As young teenagers Sam was the first person he confided in that he was gay. Ivan trusted Sam implicitly. As young college graduates they entered the police academy together, and by chance ended up working closely together later as detectives. "I need help, Sam. I don't know where else to turn." 

When Ivan came home that night he was exhausted. He'd been digging into the past of each victim beyond the initial generalities reported in the files. They were in fact all connected to each other. Each victim known to the other. Each of them connected with one man. Alister Martin. He looked carefully at the mug shot that was on his computer screen, reading everything he could about this particular kind of scum. As he looked at the photo taken by the police in the early eighties, realized with a gasping shock how Corbin was related to this man. To the other victims. It is a brand. 

The effectuation in his mind revolving the entirety of the situation took his breath away. He now knew Corbin's big secret that for three years he's been so afraid to confess. Ivan understood why Corbin feared his reaction. The truth of the matter is it made him realize many things. He understood now as best he could what Corbin lived though. And how strong he was for surviving and finding any iota of happiness in its wake. He realized how much he truly loves the man he comes home to every night. How vulnerable he really was. How much he couldn't allow him further harm. 

Corbin lay asleep on the couch, Juno curled up on his feet. She wagged her tail but didn't move. Her expression as she looked at him seemed as worried as he felt. He pet her head before kneeling slowly down. His body leaned against the couch at Corbin's chest, his fingers softly tucking a lock of hair behind Corbin's ear. 

"Cory, baby, wake up. Come on, love." Gently he rubbed Corbin's shoulder as he spoke softly, kissing his cheek. Corbin frowned and stirred but didn't wake. Ivan smiled. Stubborn even in your sleep. "Sweet baby, come on, wake up."

Corbin's eyes opened and he smiled. Ivan's heart both melted and constricted. "Hi. What time is it?" He asked, sitting up. He stretched and yawned, leaning sleepily into Ivan, who moved to the couch when Corbin sat up. Ivan inhaled him, pressing his lips to the back of Corbin's neck. He nuzzled his nose into that same spot and was rewarded with a ticklish giggle and subsequent squirming. He tickled him a bit more, loving the sound of Corbin's laughter, which had been too absent in the last several days. 

Ivan pulled away after Corbin squirmed, twisting in his arms until they were facing each other. Corbin smiled up at Ivan; Ivan returned it before gently lowering his head, capturing Corbin in a kiss. Within the kiss Ivan attempted to convey everything he couldn't at the moment tell him. When he pulled away Corbin was frowning slightly. Ivan gave him a questioning look and wordlessly Corbin reached up, swiping a thumb across Ivan's cheeks. Ivan shook his head at the question in Corbin's eyes, nuzzling into his palm, kissing its center. 

"I love you," Ivan said in a tone and with a look on his face that Corbin had never known before. "You understand that right?" Ivan ran his fingertips lightly down Corbin's cheek, his eyes traveling the contours of Corbin's face. "You know that, right? Nothing...Corbin, nothing will ever change that."