A/N: This is the lastterribly sad chapter for a while. This one was particularly difficult to write, and I hope I managed to do Horatio justice. As a quick apology to any psychologists out there who have read this and wondered what Frankie was on about - I'm not a psychologist, or even a psychology student, so any mistakes are all mine, and I apologise if anything is dreadfully wrong.


Frankie ran after him, not caring about the strange looks, too late to stop him leaving, but she was quick enough to still have the Hummer in sight. She leapt into her car and sped after him. Luckily, he wasn't doing his impersonation of James Bond. She remembered one high speed chase where she was convinced they were all going to die horribly, but Horatio had had complete control over the big vehicle at all times. This time, at least, he was sticking to speed limits, and she kept him in sight easily.

Unsurprisingly, he headed home, and had abandoned the Hummer in favour of walking along the beach by the time she had parked and rang Alexx to tell her to come up with an alibi for a while. Luckily, Alexx knew enough not to ask silly questions. Frankie walked up to him slowly, but he was lost in his thoughts, staring out to sea.

"Horatio?" He jumped as she spoke, and stared at her. Those damned sunglasses prevented her from seeing his expression. It struck her suddenly how he often used them to hide behind and instantly longed to stamp on the wretched things.

"What are you doing here? Again," he added.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine." It was his standard answer. Frankie rolled her eyes. He'd probably say he was fine if he had been shot six times.

"No you're not."

"Then why are you asking me if you already know the answer?" he snapped.

"Because it's polite to ask!"

"Why are you here Francesca?" The use of her given name startled her into more honesty than she had originally intended.

"Because I know about your father and what he did to you!" She winced as she heard herself, and he sucked in a sharp breath. She hurried to qualify that statement. "I know he hit you. I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you. That's all." There was nothing she could do unless he wanted her help, so she turned to walk back to her car.

"Was that what the other night was about?" His question stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to face him and nodded. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he suddenly looked lost. Walking back to him, she pulled them both down so they were sitting on the sand.

"I'm right, aren't I? He did hit you."

"How did you know?" Horatio was intrigued to see Frankie blush deeply.

"Umm, well, I sort of, kind of, managed to notice the scars you have on your back, and then something Calleigh said made me put two and two together." Calleigh's secret wasn't hers to tell, and wild horses wouldn't drag out her spying on him in the locker room.

Luckily Horatio was too deep in his own thoughts to pursue the subject. He spoke softly, not looking at her. "He used to hit Mom all the time. I was five years older than Ray and when I was seven I tried to stop him from hurting her. He turned on me instead. Beat hell out of me with his belt," he said sadly, and she took his hand in both of hers. "I always seemed to be the favourite target after that first time. In a way, I was pleased, because it meant he wasn't hurting Mom, or Ray." He gave a short, bitter laugh.

"Everything I did was wrong, but everything I did, I did to try to please him. I studied hard, got good grades and was beaten for being a teachers' pet. I won a science fair when I was twelve and was beaten for not being one of the cool kids in school. So I tried sports instead. I made the school athletics team and was beaten for not picking the right sport. And you know the really sad thing? Ray was jealous of me, because he never knew what Dad was like. He thought all the time we spent together meant Dad loved me more. Ray never knew what Dad was like until he'd gone. And then he resented the fact that Mom and I hadn't told him."

"When did he leave?" Frankie fought to keep the tears from her voice. That was one of the saddest tales she had ever heard, and told without a hint of self-pity.

"Mom threw him out when I was fourteen. It was the first time I tried to fight back, and I was getting to the stage where I might be able to one day stop him. Dad broke three of my ribs and my arm before Mom pulled him off me. She told him never to come back, and this time he didn't. By the time Ray had come back from a friend's house, he was gone, and the ambulance had just arrived."

Horatio drew a deep, shuddering breath, and Frankie put her arm around him, holding him close. Honoured beyond words that he had shared this with her, she just sat there, holding him, letting him know she was there.

Eventually he sat up, pulling back from her. "You, um, you won't mention any of this will you?" Frankie never thought she would hear Horatio Caine pleading, yet here he was.

She shook her head. "Of course not. You've never told anyone?"

He half-smiled sadly. "My ex-wife wasn't all that interested. She was the only other person I've been tempted to tell."

"What a bitch!" Frankie reacted instantly, without thinking, and was rewarded by a dry chuckle. She stood up, brushing the sand from her trousers, and held out her hand. "Come on, we should probably head back before the gossip mill otherwise known as Alexx starts a wild rumour we've eloped." Another chuckle, this time a little forced.

"Because we all know that won't happen," he said, and stood up. She frowned at him, wondering what he meant. "Thanks for being here Frankie."

"Anytime, you know that. I'm always available for my friends. Counselling, free of charge, plus many other talents. I'm a rare find." He smiled, and they headed back to CSI together, him following her this time.