Author's Note: RIP Lumina Orchis. Okay. I don't like Season 1, but this story takes place in the first season nonetheless. I prefer human Frankie over ghost Frankie.

I needed a distraction from another story I'm writing. I wrote this up pretty quick. (Now that I think of it, I write all my stories in one sitting…) No one reads Liar fanfic, but it was still fun to write. :)

In episode 206, Frankie said he looked up to the vampires. Therefore, he wasn't as brain dead as Richie.

HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER

By Evgeniya

Colin and Damian stood at the entrance of the Liar. They watched Frankie drink shot after shot at the bar. That wasn't unusual. Frankie usually drank to calm his nerves, although it never seemed to work.

But tonight was different. Frankie waited at the bar while the vampires came to a decision, (ultimately holding his life in their hands). He had been talking to a newspaper reporter from the Island Gleaner; feeding him information to publish in his articles and take to the police.

Then more people became involved. The writer's boyfriend came to the Lair, forcing Damian to kill him. Then Frankie disposed of the body without making sure he was dead. Now the police were a constant nuisance at the club.

Frankie had been punished for similar transgressions in the past. The vampires had burnt him, strangled him, tied him up, but Frankie never learned. Damian decided that he needed to find a new approach to handling their janitor.

"We should just cut our losses," Colin suggested, even though Damian had already made up his mind. "It's too risky keeping him alive and, let's face it, he doesn't exactly offer much to the scenery."

"No," Damian answered with a heavy sigh. "I think Francis still has some value left in him."

Colin snorted. "Value? He can barely sweep the floor."

"Don't worry," Damian replied casually, ignoring Colin's statement. "I'll handle Francis." He then pushed himself away from the doorway and headed towards the bar.

Frankie jumped and spilt his drink as Damian's hand fell on his shoulder.

"Follow me," Damian hissed into Frankie's ears. He pulled the human away from the stool and led him through the back of the club.

Damian never took his hand off of Frankie's shoulder. It wasn't a harsh touch, but still heavy and controlling nonetheless. Even though it was not painful, just the slightest physical contact with vampires made Frankie's skin crawl. After working at the Lair for so long, one would think he would become desensitized to violence and corruption. However, Frankie just became more fragile and jumpy. Damian barely touched him, but Frankie felt like his hand was crushing his bones.

It didn't help that Damian was silent. Now was the perfect time to bark orders or scold him publicly. Frankie would much rather been shouted at than to try and anticipate Damian's next move. He was tempted to risk a look behind him, but he did not want to come face to face with vampire fangs. If Damian was finally going to kill him, he'd rather not see it coming. He would love to die in unsuspecting bliss! Unfortunately, he had seen too much over the years to be completely unaware.

Suddenly, Frankie was pulled back. His heart skipped a beat as they halted in an unfamiliar area of the club. Frankie expected to be led into the dungeon or one of the backrooms. They loved to torture him while two or more vampires fucked in the next room; hear his cries of pain mix with their shouts of pleasure. Frankie just snapped his eyes shut and cringed. What could Damian possibly have planned that would be worse?

"Wait for me in my office," Damian instructed.

Frankie's eyes shot open and finally stared at Damian's. He was rarely allowed in the office and certainly never alone. He had no intentions to be insolent now, but he couldn't help but stutter, "…your office?"

Damian nodded stiffly. "Pick a corner and wait for me."

A question caught in Frankie's throat and escaped as an awkward gasp. He wanted to form words, but it was impossible to speak and breathe at the same time. His body took control and ultimately decided that breathing was more important than asking questions; even if they were just desperate jerks of breath. But Damian was waiting for some sort of reaction, so Frankie's head twitched in response. That was the best he could manage for a nod.

"Now!" Damian growled and Frankie immediately scurried into through the office door.

The office was much cleaner than he remembered. No dead bodies or blood like the last time. It actually looked more like a regular office, but Frankie knew not to take comfort in that. He was still alone in a vampire's office and waiting for his imminent demise. What could Damian possibly be doing that he had to wait?

But then Frankie remembered Damian's instructions. Pick a corner. Frankie was just so relieved it didn't involve chains or knives that he barely paid it any thought. But now he looked at the far corner of the office.

"…oh, god…" he whimpered to himself as his eyes frantically snapped to all corners of the office. Anxiety got the best of him – that had to be the explanation. He must have heard Damian wrong and now a random and ridiculous command popped into his head.

Unfortunately, that was the last semblance of an order he could remember. Frankie bit his lip and picked a corner. He desperately needed Damian to see he could obey, but now he wasn't so sure he was even listening to begin with. He usually just shut his eyes and waited for the claws to wrap around his throat.

Frankie stood in the corner and anxiously chewed his lower lip. Thoughts whirled around in his brain. He shouldn't have gotten that writer involved. He should have given that necklace back to Damian. And he certainly should have checked that John Doe's body for a pulse. Why did he have to betray the vampires at every turn?

Oh, right. The murders…

But the Lair was full of vampires that he was envious of. He actually hoped to become one someday. If only he could prove his loyalty and his worth. They would have no choice but to turn him. Right?

Frankie grumbled and smacked his head with his fists. He was so stupid! That damn writer... Frankie hoped to stop the deaths, but instead he created more. Now he was stuck in the Lair with an entire nest of vampires that he just betrayed. He would be lucky if death was all he faced.

As each minute passed by, Frankie cringed further and further into the corner. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? What could Damian be doing that would take so long?

Frankie whimpered again. He knew what Damian was doing. He was probably dragging the waters to find medieval torture devices. Or personally inviting each vampire to come and witness his punishment. It wouldn't be the first time he was beaten in front of an audience. That was the worse because it meant that each vampire would take turns torturing him. What they loved even more than abusing him was watching him the next night as he struggled to work through the open wounds and the bruising.

That had to be it. Nothing could be so simple as to just stand in a corner.

After sometime, Frankie managed to settle down. He was no longer fidgeting and his breathing was somewhat normal. He realized that waiting was far better than pain. In fact, he was willing to wait forever if it stalled any amount of discomfort.

As the night wore on, Frankie examined the wood in the corner. He had very little choice since it was just inches away from his nose. The wood was scratched in the most unusual pattern. It was supposed to distract his mind, but his nervous fidgeting and whimpering returned. His mind spun around scenarios of how the wood became so scratched. Someone was trying to claw their way out…

"Relax, Francis," Damian ordered casually. He recognized Frankie working his way into a nervous breakdown.

Frankie jumped and immediately snapped back around to face Damian.

"I'm so sorry, Damian!" he pleaded when he realized he moved from the corner without permission. "I just-"

"I'll let that one slid."

Frankie sighed in relief. Finally – some leniency! He looked around the office again. Damian was alone. They would talk in private. For once, fortune was shining on him!

"Come here," Damien ordered firmly – interrupting whatever relief Frankie was basking in.

Frankie was about to step forward, but his eyes dropped to the paddle in Damian's hand. The vampires had collected many unusual treasures over the centuries, but Frankie would have certainly remembered a paddle. Whips, thumbscrews, choke pears, molten metals… now a simple wooden paddle?

Frankie's nerves fought their way back through his body as tremors. His mind instantly connected the paddle to childhood punishments, but that was too ridiculous of an idea. Damian was a bloodthirsty vampire for crying out loud! The vampires loved blood, whether or nor they ate it. They just wanted to see it pour from a warm body. A paddle really wouldn't do the job.

Damian remained stern, but he was secretly smiling inside. Frankie may beg and scream, but he never fought his punishments. Torturing Frankie showed temporary improvements, but mostly because he was too sore to disobey so soon. Damian wanted to try a new tactic – find a way to teach more than to punish.

But of course, Frankie would be punished. Damian couldn't just let him walk away after he undermined his authority. Again.

Pain would certainly be involved, but not to the extent Frankie was used it. Instead, Damian would administer only what he thought Frankie deserved.

Frankie had to understand that vampires killed for survival. If he truly ever wanted to become one, he would have to accept that. Plus, the John Doe murders only occurred every year or so. That was the best Damian could do. If it were up to Colin, there'd be several dead bodies every night.

Damian resented every evil act he performed. It was continually rubbed in his face as his portrait decayed and mutated in front of his eyes. He hated what he became, but those sinful acts ensured his survival - and the survival of all the vampires on the island. His death would destroy every last one of them and they were his family.

Damian had assessed the situation carefully. Torturing Frankie only made him appear more cruel and uncontrolled. He had offered Frankie a home, a job, and protection, yet the human still did not trust him. Damian wanted this human's complete devotion and continued dedication. Frankie was not always competent, but he had proven to be useful from time to time. Damien wanted to make sure that Frankie continued to work for him, instead of against him.

Damian knew Frankie idolized the vampires. And in many ways, Frankie had become part of the family, even if he was just a janitor. Damian decided that Frankie needed a more personal punishment. He wanted Frankie to feel bad about his actions, not feel sorry for himself. Whenever he felt fearful or downcast, he would always jump at the opportunity to turn on them. Thankfully, he hadn't been very successful so far. Damian was determined to break that habit and remind Frankie that he always had a place in the Lair. Who knows – maybe one day Frankie would prove valuable enough to make a permanent member.

Damian had been around for centuries. In comparison, Frankie was very much a child. He needed to be instructed and scolded when he misbehaved. Damian decided paddling was a fair punishment.

"Francis," Damien said more sternly when Frankie did not take another step. "I'm waiting."

As Frankie willed his legs to work, Damian dragged his desk chair to the center of the office. He sat down and offered his hand to Frankie. However, Frankie had forgotten to breath.

"I'm not going to bite," Damian said casually. It was somewhat of a joke, but also an attempt to reassure him. Frankie had been anticipating a fatal vampire attack since he started working at the Lair. But for tonight, Frankie's neck was safe.

Frankie raised a shaky hand to meet Damian's. But as soon as Damian took hold, Frankie immediately jerked back.

"Wait!" he squeaked, even surprising himself. "What are you doing?"

Damian snorted, but did not release Frankie's hand. "I thought you would have figured that out by now."

Frankie's eyes sunk to the floor and his pale cheeks instantly blushed in front of Damian. He was constantly humiliated at the Lair, but this was something different.

"I am very disappointed in you, Francis," Damian remarked sternly.

Shocked at the word disappointed, Frankie's eyes met Damian's. The human's face was completely red now, but he actually looked more hurt then shamed. Sure, he angered Damian before. But this was the vampire he worshiped. It destroyed him to think he disappointed his idol.

Frankie could not process what point in time Damian actually had expectation of him; that someone actually counted on him for something. Yeah, he disposed of the occasional dead body or cleaned up evidence, but everyone always expected him to mess up. And he usually did.

Frankie was so taken aback, he could barely think. Damian took that opportunity to tug at Frankie's wrist and guide him over his knees. The human fell willingly, but cringed as he settled against the vampire's hard thighs.

When he felt Damian lift the paddle into the air, Frankie stiffened and squeaked, "WAIT!"

Damian paused. He hated how Frankie liked to drag things out. "What is it, Francis?"

Frankie was practically gasping for air. That poor human did not take stress well. "Is… is this going… to hurt?"

Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had seen Frankie face harsher punishments.

"You'll find out soon enough," he answered, then cracked the paddle hard against Frankie's backside.

The human jerked and cried against Damian's knees. Not quite as painful as a punch in the face, but definitely more humiliating. The sting lingered, but the paddle quickly fell a second time.

"Ow! Damian, please!" Frankie screeched. "I am sorry! Really! I am!"

"Francis, we just started," Damian answered smoothly, with only the slightest hint of annoyance. "Now stop struggling. You're going to be here awhile."

Without waiting for a response, Damian smacked the paddle again. This time, he didn't pause. He continued to paddle Frankie with consistent blows. Each one burned into the last and Frankie was desperately pleading and twisting with every crack of the paddle.

Frankie continued to beg. It was useless – he knew that. But his body continued to jerk and buck on top of Damian's thighs. He couldn't stop himself. His entire backside was blistered and sore, so he kicked without restraint to try to alleviate some of the pain.

It didn't work. Damian always hit his target and Frankie's poor bottom was scorched and going nowhere. Frankie gasped and squirmed at the incredible pain. His hands were on Damian's left thigh as he tried desperately to push himself off of the vampire's lap.

Unfortunately, Damian kept a tight grip around Frankie's waist. The human could kick and squirm all he wanted. Damian wasn't about to let go.

Frankie knew his struggles were useless. Feeling ashamed and completely helpless, he dropped his head and let his first sob escape from his throat.

Damian didn't pay much attention to Frankie's pleas and apologies. The human was known to give into dramatic easily. But once Damian heard the sob, he paused.

"You let me down, Francis," Damian stated slowly.

More distraught sobs escaped through Frankie's tight throat. "Damian, I'm sorry!"

"Why do you constantly disobey me? First you lead that writer here and now he has led the police here."

"…I'm sorry…" Frankie choked out. "It… it was that last dead body…"

"I see…" Damian knew Frankie would never quit, but he could certainly be terminated. "Perhaps your time at the Lair has come to an end."

"NO!" Frankie jumped and tried to jerk himself away from Damian's lap, but the vampire just tightened his grip. "Don't say that, Damian! Please! Give me another chance!"

"Hmmm..." Damian gave it some thought. "Perhaps this job is too stressful for you. Maybe we should consider increasing our staff. It would ease the workload for you. Let someone else handle the bodies."

Frankie frantically shook his head. He has always been the only human at the Lair. He didn't need the competition or even worse – the new guy would be turned into a vampire and he would still be the pathetic mortal janitor.

"No, Damian! I promise. I'll be good from now on!"

Damian kept his arm wrapped around Frankie's waist as he let the threat linger in the air. He would never add another mortal to the staff, but Frankie could use the motivation.

Damian waited for the human's sobs to die down before he finally loosened his hold and helped Frankie to stand.

"I don't want to be disappointed like this again," Damian stated crossly.

Frankie shook his head and desperately wiped at his eyes. Then he sniffled, "No, not ever again!"

Damian grabbed Frankie's shoulder to lead him out of the office. "Go to your room and straight to bed."

Frankie blanched. He was lucky to get off so easily, but another childish punishment was just further humiliation. "You're sending me to bed? My shift isn't even over."

"You don't nearly get enough sleep as you should. It makes you edgy, twitchy and careless. You can finish your chores in the morning."

With a frown, Frankie slowly turned back to the door. He was too sore to sleep, but resting his head against his pillow was a better way to spend the night than dumping bodies.

Before Frankie left, Damian grabbed his wrist. "Remember, Francis, you are very much a part of the Lair. Once you prove to be a loyal and obedient servant, you will be promoted."

"…promoted?" Frankie stammered. "…as in… turned?"

Damian nodded. "You're still far from ready, but I wouldn't completely rule it out."

Shocked and delighted, Frankie nearly choked on a smile. "Damian, I-"

Damian raised a hand to silence Frankie. He was still supposed to be repentant, not happy.

"Bed," the vampire reminded simply.

"Right," Frankie nodded with a tight jerk of his head. He stumbled out of the office and jumped slightly when he saw Colin waiting with folded arms at the door. Frankie quickly ducked his head away from the blond vampire, so he could not see his swollen eyes or tear stained cheeks. Frankie wondered if everyone at the club knew he was paddled. It didn't matter though – he still wouldn't be able to face anyone for the rest of the night.

"Why'd you have to go and say that?" Colin snapped snidely as he stepped inside the office. The last thing he wanted was a vampire Frankie.

Damian nodded absently. "Everyone needs a little hope. It'll give him something to aspire to."

"It's disgusting…" Colin groaned. "Now he's constantly going to be seeking your approval."

Damian smiled. "That's not such a bad thing."

"I still say you should have killed him."

Damian turned around and glanced at the portrait that sat on a small easel at his desk. It had not changed from when he first walked in. Had he killed Frankie, the portrait would have instantly decayed and darkened.

"I think I did the right thing."

THE END.