Summary: Every person is supposed to have an exact double somewhere in the world. When asked about it once, Grissom said, "Never been proved." Until now.

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. No silver has crossed my palm, either.

A/N: Special thanks to my friends csishewolf, vrtrakowski, smacky30, scifijoan and mingsmommy who have given me invaluable feedback on this story and supported me throughout this process.

This story is a crossover between CSI and Manhunter (Red Dragon). William Petersen created an enigmatic and tortured character in FBI Agent Will Graham. Some say he reprised the character when creating Gil Grissom. Dead Ringer throws Gill Grissom and Will Graham together as they try to sort out a series of murders so horrible they rival the crimes of Hannibal Lecter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Honor and Justice

Cursed is the man who dies, but the evil done by him survives.
Abu Bakr

February, 1960 – Duluth, Minnesota

The rumpled little man stared across acres of desk, dumbfounded. "What do you mean you won't take them both? Our agreement was that you would take the twins in exchange for a $10,000 gift…so that I can build my church."

"They are not perfect, Mr. Lark."

Honor Lark hastily wiped his face with his handkerchief. "I explained that to you, Judge. The second child was breech and there was an injury during birth. Dr. Baker assures me he is normal in all respects and will recover fully."

"They are not perfect. I believe I have made myself clear, Lark."

Stiffening, he replied, "They are perfect in God's eyes, Judge."

"All the more reason for you to keep the injured child…so he may be closer to God." Sliding a thick, sealed envelope across the desk, Judge Roger Culpepper said, "Now then, there is $5,000 cash in this envelope. My nanny has already taken the healthy child home to my wife. You will, of course, take the other home with you to International Falls. I expect this will conclude our dealings, Lark."

"What am I supposed to do with a baby?" Honor Lark said, genuinely perplexed.

"Why, raise it, Mr. Lark. Congratulations. It's a boy."

February, 1960 – International Falls, Minnesota

Dolores Lark was thrilled to have a baby to care for, even an imperfect one. The boy was a light in her world and almost made up for loss of the child her husband had sacrificed for God.

Things had gone terribly wrong when she'd married Honor. Her family thought he was beneath her; they certainly did not share the same social position and there was the matter of his father's business, but she fell in love with the sensitive young man and his love of God. They were young – foolish enough to think love was enough. They soon learned that it was not.

Honor then worked for his father at Lark Memorial Apartments, the family's funeral home. The future had looked so bright. In fact, he fully expected to inherit one day; the mortuary had already been passed down through three generations.

The elder Lark expanded the business with branches in Cook and Chisholm around the time the young couple married. But directing three funeral homes so far apart was too much for Venture Lark – mounting debt forced him to sell controlling interest to competitor, Gerald Scarey, who had the bad taste to rechristen the chain Scarey-Lark Funeral Apartments. Venture stayed on to manage the International Falls branch, but Honor's plans to attend college for a degree in mortuary science died. He managed to keep his position as mortician's assistant, but it was a dead end job and the pay was dismal.

Scouring the Bible, Honor likened his suffering to that of Job and sought to prove his faith by suffering nobly. So began his travels down the stranger paths of piety. Dolores was an unwilling passenger on that road, watching the man she married disappear an inch at a time as circumstance thwarted his every ambition. Little by little she lost all connection with her family, particularly her twin sister, Dorothy. The occupants of the Lark home were at once feverish and despairing.

In February 1959, a minister unexpectedly missed a funeral service at Scarey-Lark and Honor filled in at the last minute. Afterward, everyone said he'd done a beautiful job. Believing himself led by God, Honor offered to preach funerals at the mortuary in addition to his other duties, thus launching himself in a new career. Venture was against it, but Gerald Scarey saw it as a potentially lucrative, chargeable service and encouraged the young man. Eventually, Honor was seized with the idea of founding his own church. Dolores prayed for a miracle.

Upon finding herself pregnant in June of 1959, Dolores thought the sorrow in their lives was about to lift. Honor had always loved children…she expected him to be thrilled with her news. And he was. There was even a remission in his religious mania. But when Dr. Baker let them know twins were on the way, Honor's pleasure began to wane. He studied the Biblical passages about Jacob and Esau with increasing anxiety, sometimes staying up all night reading scholarly interpretations of the story. He started mumbling to himself about betrayals and birthrights. As Honor deteriorated, Dolores realized she needed help and wrote to her sister. She had to tell someone she was afraid to bring children into their home.

Once close, the girls' lives diverged years previously. Dorothy had done much better with her marriage: an up and coming district attorney named Roger Culpepper who'd landed his first court appointment at 35. They traveled in the better circles of Duluth and were quite happy. With one little exception: they had no children.

While he was distracted with the internecine struggles of Isaac and his sons, Honor fell victim to something equally ugly in his own house.

Roger Culpepper loved his wife. It pained him to see her pine so for children…the ones who would never come now and the two little stillborn girls they'd lost. The deaths had hurt him, too, of course, but she was burdened with a sadness that never left her. He'd resigned himself to the situation when Dorothy showed him her sister's letter.

"Twins on the way…" he thought to himself, "Replacements."

Children reckoned as nothing more than interchangeable parts…it said a lot about the man's character that such an idea would even occur to Roger Culpepper.

A little research showed Culpepper that the Lark family was good stock – well respected in the community despite Venture's uncomfortable profession and Honor's tenuous grip on reality. Culpepper decided that a judicious offer…a 'donation' to the building fund for Lark's church…might be just what he needed to get those babies. He was right.

Baby Boy Lark literally put his foot in it the moment he made his reluctant way into the world. Dr. Baker was mistaken about the rejected twin: the birth injury required multiple surgeries and eventual amputation of his right leg above the knee. Honor Lark never got his church.

Still obsessed with Jacob and Esau, Honor believed the child he'd been forced to keep…the younger one…had been robbed of his Biblically-precedented birthright. He named the child Justice and immediately set about teaching him what he needed to know to live up to his name.

Every night before bed and after prayers, he repeated one thing to the boy: a quote…a lesson…a promise:

Foolish men imagine that because judgment for an evil thing is delayed, there is no justice; but only accident here below. Judgment for an evil thing is many times delayed some day or two, some century or two, but it is sure as life, it is sure as death.

August, 1966 – Duluth, Minnesota

Justice Lark loved coming to Duluth. It was big and noisy; so much different than tiny International Falls.

He'd only been to the city a handful of times. The Easter Seals people made him a new prosthesis every year. Papa had brought him for a fitting last month and they were in town today to pick up his brand new leg. He looked down at his old one and smiled, "Guess this is goodbye, Sparky," he thought. "Wonder what the new one's name will be?"

Justy Lark was an imaginative child. He'd started naming his prosthetics when he was three (the first one was 'Buddy,' because, as he'd told his mother, "That's his NAME"). Dolores had indulged him and gone along with the game after warning him not to tell Papa. Fostering his imagination was just about all Dolores Lark could do for her boy; Honor Lark controlled virtually everything else in the house.

Their existence was Spartan. Every bit of money was earmarked for church work, sometimes leaving the family on the brink of financial ruin. Honor Lark's belief that 'the Lord will provide' was put to the test many times. On those occasions when the table was bare, Dolores and Justy endured long sermons about their faltering faith along with their hunger.

Still, the child flourished in his mother's warm attention and the two clung to each other, secret allies in Honor Lark's strange world. Justy had learned to be seen and not heard in his father's presence, except when he parroted scripture on command. At six, he didn't quite understand what he was asked to say, but he could recite it perfectly. Honor would smile at him then and sometimes give him a little card with Jesus or a saint on it. He liked the ones of the Holy Family best...where Mary and Joseph and Jesus looked so contented. He kept hoping he'd see those expressions on his parent's faces some day.

Mama and Papa never smiled at each other, more often arguing quietly when they thought he couldn't hear. Lately they'd been arguing loudly about drink. The only drinks he knew about were water and milk and cocoa and maybe a Coca-Cola once in awhile, but whatever Papa was drinking smelled bad. That must be it, because he always smelled like that when they fought.

The waiting room at Easter Seals was crowded and they'd been waiting a long time. Papa didn't like the delay; he kept muttering that their appointment was at noon and that the technician was over an hour late. Justy didn't mind. There were crayons and coloring books here…he could keep himself occupied for a long time, though it was hard to find a clean page to start on and many of the crayons were broken.

He was concentrating on staying inside the lines when he heard a soft, friendly voice somewhere above him.

"How would you like a brand new box of crayons?"

Reluctant to look up, he said, "Yes, please…" and added a few more strokes to his picture. When he finally did glance up, he looked straight into the eyes of a woman who might be his mother.

The two stared at each other long enough to catch Honor's attention, who stood and put himself between the woman and his son.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Dorothy Culpepper stuttered, "I volunteer here…uh…is this….is this…?" as she held out a brand new box of 64 Crayolas to Justice.

Before the boy could take them, Honor seized the box and placed it firmly back in the woman's hand. "We need nothing from you but to see your back."

Confused, the child only saw the prized crayons float from his grasp. "But Papa, it's a new box…can't I have the new box?"

Too late, he realized his error. Honor whirled and slapped him hard across the face. "You will not talk back to me, young man. And you had better keep hold of yourself."

Silence descended on the waiting room as waves of shock spread from the ugly scene. All eyes were on Honor; disapproval thickened the air. Justy struggled to hold back tears: not from the slap but from the loss of the crayons. He'd never had a new box of 64 Crayolas to open by himself.

Just then, the technician they'd been waiting for called their name. Honor snatched Justy by the arm, hastily pulling him to a standing position and, head held high, marched out of the waiting room.

Dorothy Culpepper whispered, "Oh, Roger, what did you do to those boys?"

July, 1972 – International Falls, Minnesota

Honor Lark had risen in the ranks at Scarey-Lark over the years. He was now assistant to Funeral Director Gerald Scarey. What this really meant was that he ran the International Falls funeral home in fact while Scarey retained the status and pay that went with the job title.

As ever, Honor sought to bear the injustice nobly as a gift to God. Dolores Lark had long since surrendered to her husband's unusual relationship with the Lord, happy the steady paycheck allowed them to eat and pay their bills.

Justice Lark had been helping out around the place since he could push a broom. Now that he was 12, Honor felt it was time for his son to learn the family business. To that end he insisted Justy come in every day after school to work with the embalmer. Like so many things in his life, this new idea of his father's was something to be borne…no matter how much he or his mother might object, once Honor's mind was made up, it had the force of law.

The general public tends to think of morticians as strange because on their discomfort with the profession. But most people in the business are like anyone else – in fact many feel called, providing a needed service in addition to comfort for the bereaved. There are a few oddballs, though, and Harold Scarey was one of them.

Gerald Scarey's third son was the only one to remain stuck 'in the back.' Vernon and Edgar had progressed to Funeral Directorships of their own, each running a branch office of Scarey-Lark in nearby towns. Harry never would. In fact the elder Scarey had tried him in the Chisholm branch and replaced him within a month because of customer complaints.

The generous souls of International Falls thought Harry was just…odd. Everyone else thought he was downright weird and it wasn't just his wall-eyed appearance or his father's penchant for unfortunate names. Harry Scarey made people feel uncomfortable. Women felt he was looking at them inappropriately…undressing them mentally or thinking God-knows-what as he spoke to them. For men it was less clear cut, but more than a few swore the hair on the backs of their necks stood up when Harry stared at them too long.

So Harry was left in the back at Scarey-Lark, pretty much to himself until Justice joined him in the spring of 1972. Until that time, Justy's jobs consisted of stacking chairs, sorting literature and stuffing envelopes, unpacking supplies…nothing directly related to preparation of the deceased. He'd seen corpses, of course, but only from a discreet distance and never before show time. Nothing that properly prepared him for Harry Scarey's little corner of the death business.

At first, Harry made an effort to behave appropriately. He'd seen the darker side of Honor Lark's anger more than once; he didn't want to draw fire if he could help it. But after awhile, it was clear Justy wasn't a carbon copy of the old man even though he could quote Scripture like a bastard, so bit by bit he opened the door into what he called his playroom, hoping he'd found someone to share it with.

Justice Lark came from a sheltered home. Even if he'd been able to overcome the family reputation, Honor discouraged friendships so the boy had no one to confide in but his mother. At 12, there were some things he couldn't share with Mama, and Papa would have beaten him if he'd brought up the subject of nocturnal emissions or masturbation. Despite his suspicion that he was going to rot in Hell, some things felt too good to give up…so when Harry Scarey started talking about sex one afternoon, he was all ears.

International Falls attracts a lot of tourists each summer; there are usually one or two boating accidents with fatalities. One such had just come in…a local girl, 15 year old Mary Elizabeth Flowers.

She'd been staying with relatives from out of town at the family cabin on Rainy Lake. First cousin Polly Harper was Elizabeth's age and liked to water ski – Mary Elizabeth was just learning – so they spent a lot of time pestering Polly's dad to take them out. On the fifth night of her stay, Mr. Harper agreed to take the girls around the lake one more time while there was still enough light. The half a case of beer he'd had that afternoon made him deadly on the water. Both girls had died when he'd crashed into the jump in the middle of the lake; he'd escaped with a broken wrist and enough guilt to last any man a lifetime.

Polly's body had been sent to Duluth, but Mary Elizabeth, being local, was sent to Scarey-Lark.

International Falls is such a small town, everybody knew one another. The Larks knew the Flowers and Justice had gone to school with Mary Elizabeth. He even had a little crush on her, but she was older and never gave him a second thought. This wasn't the first time he'd seen someone familiar at Scarey-Lark, but it was the first time the body of a peer had come in to be embalmed.

Harry was just unzipping the body bag when he noticed Justice hesitating in the doorway. "Gimmie a hand with this body, kid," he said, gesturing him over with his head. "Here, pull this off while I hold her up."

Justy obeyed, alternately averting his eyes and stealing glances at Mary Elizabeth's partially nude body...the curve of her buttocks, an expanse of thigh, the dip of her waist where it flared again at her hips. When the bag pulled free he lost his balance and fell on his ass.

"Jesus, kid, quit screwing around...get up here and help me."

"Sorry, Mr. Scarey," he said, scrambling to his feet. "What do you want me to do?"

"And stop calling me that... 'Mr. Scarey' is my father...I'm just Harry, all right?" When Justy nodded, he said, "OK, kid...hand me that file folder."

Lark turned with relief from the preparation table. He'd never seen a girl even close to naked, and Mary Elizabeth...well, he'd dreamed of her several times and beaten off often with thoughts of her...to see her now was at once sickening and exciting. He wanted to see what was under the modesty cloth she'd been shipped in. Shaking himself to banish those mental images, he grabbed a file and handed it to the older man.

Harry Scarey had been watching Justy for weeks now. The boy was quiet and did as he was told without question, but he couldn't hide his curiosity or his interest in their female cases. More than once he'd entered the men's room after Lark had left and detected the unmistakable smell of semen; the kid was jerking off in there. That was promising.

Noting the blush on Justy's cheeks and the way he was holding his hands in front of his crotch, Harry smiled to himself. "The kid just might be ready." When he glanced at the file, he saw that it was for another case. "Yep, this could be it."

"Justy...calm down, son...she ain't gonna bite ya," he said, rounding the table and cuffing the kid on the shoulder.

Swallowing hard, Justy tried to relax. "Yes, sir...I mean, Harry."

"Get me a sheet from the shelf there, OK?"

"OK."

Harry said, "You ever seen a naked girl before, kid?" as they spread the sheet flat between them and covered Mary Elizabeth from the shoulders down.

"No, sir."

"No tits, no pussy...nothin'?" he said, arching an eyebrow and trying to catch Justy's eye.

Lark looked at the floor, blushing scarlet, "Uh, no, sir...er, Harry...never."

Harry lowered his voice, "But you want to, right?"

Something in that low question gave him confidence...looking up, he said, "Yeah."

Grinning, Harry swept the sheet away from Mary Elizabeth's body like a magician revealing a magic trick. "Well, kid, no time like the present."

To Be Continued...Chapter 15 to follow shortly