A/N: Based around the episode "In Heat", inspired by how Will felt about Charles being gay: he didn't care. Beta'ed by my brother.

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds

Have No Shame

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."
-Norman Cousins-

Charles Luvet leaned against the bar, eyeing his fellow customers as he sipped leisurely at his beer. He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass, watching it catch the small bits of foam that still clung to the sides. He lifted it to his lips for one final swig, emptying the glass of its final swallow before setting it on the bar and signaling to the bartender for a refill.

While he waited for his glass to be filled, he glanced behind him at the carefree patrons in the bar, watching them with a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he thought of how many of them, himself included, would soon return to the lies that made up their everyday lives.

"Here you go," he heard the bartender's voice slip into his thoughts. He turned his attention back to the bar and grabbed his glass. He didn't drink, not just yet. He turned from the bar, surveying the crowd.

"You here alone?" a voice asked. Charles turned to look at the young man beside him, taking in the short brown hair and the light stubble on his chin.

"Yeah," he said with a nod, sipping his beer. "Like pretty much all these poor saps." The young man nodded.

"It's sad, ain't it?" he mused, watching the crowd, his foot tapping up and down quickly. Charles watched him intently and a shy smile grew on the young man's face. He held out his hand, Charles took it. "Danny Brown," the man said.

"Charley Luvet," Charles replied. They shook hands, Charles noting the pressure of the other man's grip, the need for it to be strong accentuating how weak it really was.

"Where're you from?" Danny asked, taking a sip of his own beer, his eyes never leaving Charles.

"New Orleans," Charles replied. "You?" Danny shook his head as he swallowed, a trace of a smile trailing across his face.

"Doesn't matter," he said. Charles chuckled lightly.

"All right," he said, setting his once again empty glass down. He pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills onto the table, nodding to Danny as the bartender collected them. "His is on me," he said, then, "What d'you say we get out of this place? Get some fresh air?" Danny nodded.

"Yeah," he said, standing. "Yeah, I'd like that." He smiled, matching Charles' grin, though the detective caught the force behind it. In the young man's eyes there was no smile, and the corners of his mouth pulled slightly downwards, fighting the show of emotion.

Charles lead him through the crowded bar and out into the night air anyway.

"What do you do?" Danny asked as they emerged into the night, Charles glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, watching as his nervous gaze traveled around the parking lot.

"I'm a Detective," Charles finally said after a few moments of silence. Danny nodded and came to a halt, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. "This your car?" Charles asked, nodding to the vehicle they'd stopped near. Danny glanced at it and nodded.

"Yeah," he added, breathing out a puff of smoke with his words, his cigarette held almost daintily between his pointer and middle fingers. Charles chuckled lightly.

"What a coincidence," he said, "this is my car." He pointed behind him at the sedan he'd rented for his trip, and watched with growing curiosity as Danny's face lit up.

"What d'you say we get out of here?" he posed, nodding to Charles' car. "You drive."

Charles grinned and nodded. He waited until Danny had rounded the car and climbed into the passenger's seat before getting in himself, slipping the key in the ignition and waiting for Danny to pick a destination.

"The beach," the man said, and Charles drove.

.-.-.

"Why's a cop so trusting?" Danny asked, scuffing his toe in the sand. Charles shrugged, stepping closer to the younger man.

"It's hard not to be," he said. "When you can finally let loose, y'know?" Danny shook his head, gazing out at the shimmering water.

"No," he said. "I don't know." Charles glanced at the water, then turned his gaze back to Danny, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"What're you afraid of, Danny?" he asked.

"What d'you mean?" Danny queried defensively. "I ain't afraid of nothin'." Charles shook his head. He laid a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder and gazed down into his eyes, letting a knowing smile appear on his face.

"I'm a detective, Danny," he said. "I'm trained to notice the small things." He leaned down, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips neared Danny's. He felt the younger man's hot breath on his cheek, but a moment before their lips met Danny roughly pushed him away. He stumbled backwards, but regained his balance quickly, staring quizzically at the distorted expression on Danny's face.

"Disgusting," the younger man spat, advancing on Charles. "Shameful. Disgusting." Charles held up his hands in defense, but Danny stopped a few inches away and scuffed his toe in the sand once again. "Sorry, darlin'," he said, softly. "Guess I got a bit drunker than I thought." Charles nodded.

"S'all right," he said, eyeing Danny warily as he turned to gaze out at the water once more. "Know what?" he said after a moment's pause.

"What?" Danny asked, his voice still rough from their encounter those few moments before.

"It ain't shameful," Charles replied. "I ain't ashamed."

"Then why're you here hiding?" Danny queried quickly, though Charles guessed the young man never meant to voice the question.

"'Cause I thought I had to be," he said. "That I had to hide."

"So, what? Now you're gonna go back and have no shame?" Danny queried.

"Exactly," Charles said, closing his eyes as a light breeze passed over him.

As he breathed in the humid, Miami night, he felt an arm close tightly around his throat. His eyes flew open and he struggled against the hold, but he knew all too well that this was it. That he would die in hiding, in shame.

.-.-.

The funeral attendance was much more than William LaMontagne had imagined, including Charles Luvet's fiancé. The tears staining her cheeks were, William knew, for far more than just the death of the man she loved.

Telling her the truth about Charley had been one of the hardest things William had had to do, but he'd done it for Charley. For his partner. Because, though he was dead, he deserved to be remembered and loved as the man he was.

William intended to make sure that happened. Vowing to himself as the bagpipes played that he would never let the memory of Charles Luvet be tarnished by anyone.