Setting: ATF AU
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
NOTE: Big thanks, no HUGE thanks to Julie, for her invaluable, generous and wonderful medical assistance.
For furhter information, see: http://www.jsonline.com/letsgo/dining/fingerfood/0322titanic.stm, http://sciencedrive.com/mitchk/menu.htm, and http://members.tripod.com/~titanic3/1912.html (Arron's titantic page)
She wrapped the fur coat around her slim frame, nearly obscured in the dark. She stood against the rails on the top deck, having just emerged from the interior. It was cold night and she inhaled deeply, letting the bitter wind kiss her face. Just hours before, she'd deposited her linen napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. The huge,ornate dining room was full of the world's wealthiest citizens, each enjoying a ten course feast. The food, like everything else on the Titanic, was divine. The first course of Oysters à la Russe was followed by a delicious Consommé, then Salmon in Mousseline Sauce with cucumbers. Filet Mignon and Chicken Lyonnaise came next in a small bouquet of vegtables. Lamb with Mint Sauce, Chatêum;au potatoes and creamed carrots preceded the Asparagus à la saffron champagne Vinagarette. A selection of sweets rounded out the fine meal, painted eclairs with french ice cream, peaches in chartreube jelly and waldorf pudding were followed by a large selection of fruit and cheese. The gentlemen then rose to retire for cigars and brandy, leaving society's top mavens to idle chatter.
She'd begged off, pleading a headache. In reality, nothing bored her more than the wagging, forked tongues of the wealthy women. So she roamed around the large ship, still awed by her majesty. She was brand new, this was her maiden voyage. Nothing ever like her ever existed. The Titanic was almost nine hundred feet long and eleven stories high. No expense on the trimmings had been spared. Their first class cabin, one of four parole suites that were huge fifty feet in length; they cost Raoul over four thousand dollars. Louis and his nanny had a first class suite of their own, nearby.
"'ey, Andy, now there's a somethin' t'set yer eyes on, eh?"
"Aye, Mate," Andy Simmons, a crewman replied to his friend, "She's a real looker, that one..."
They stared openly at the beautiful woman who was standing all alone at the rail. Her eyes were cast on the black sea and she seemed oblivious to them or the biting wind. They quickly hurried past her, already late for their job. They rushed past the entry behind which was the wireless office. Inside, a radio operator ignored the warning issued by the nearby Californian, warning of an ice field ahead. The busy operator had a stack of transmissions to get out, several of which came with a hefy tip if delivered on time. It was ten fifty p.m.
Violet Kelly trembled in the doorway, unsure of her decision. He was already undressed, with his back turned, sipping from an expensive silver flask. He'd met her the day they left England, while she was exploring the large boat. He'd pursued her for several days, gifting her with expensive jewelry. She'd resisted his advances so far, as there was nothing desirable about his looks. Balding on top, with dark, hooded, nearly repitilian eyes, she felt he undressed her with every gaze. Then she found out who he was and his looks dissolved in the word 'millionaire'. She'd saved the money from her work on the stage in London. For her twentieth birthday, she'd purchased the ticket, eager to try her luck in New York. She was good actress, by all accounts and America had more to offer. So she finally relented earlier that day, allowing him to maul her in the private dressing room off the ship's swimming pool. His kisses left her cold and his fingers pinched her pliant flesh cruelly, leaving her marked. She pushed him off, teasing him about her virginity and it's worth. He'd promised a draft of three thousand dollars, delivered at eleven p.m, in her stateroom. She eyed the paper, now in her hand and tucked it inside the tiny safe in the wall. She sighed, dropped her robe and stepped into the bedroom.
Raoul turned at the ravishing beauty walked towards him, filling him with a burning lust. She was volumptous, with a heart-shaped face, large green eyes and a head full of dark wavy hair. The fact she was a virgin led him to believe every male in London were blind or fools. He'd take her tonight and for the remainder of the trip. If she was good, he'd arrange to take her home. He loomed over her, setting her down on the edge of the bed. He felt her pale flesh tremble beneath his fingers and that only made him hungrier. With a low growl, he pushed her back on the bed, letting his teeth roam over her supple nipple, while he rough hands pushed her ample thighs apart.
André Sauville sat alone, amidst the luxury and felt like the lonliest man on the planet. Despite his vast wealth and holdings, his many 'friends' and business acquaintances, he was empty. It was worse than that, he was void of all feeling. As the years went by and Isabella grew more and more into her nickname of the "Ice Queen of New Orleans' he berated himself on the biggest mistake of his life. He'd let his selfish wants blind his heart. Raoul, while an astute and accomplished business partner for over twenty years, was despicable as a son-in-law. Power consumed him...power to conquer money and his seemingly insatable urges. The only light in the old man's life, was Louis. Just past three, the dark eyed, dark-haired, solemn child was his saving grace. He spent the morning at his offices in town, then retired to the mansion, to have lunch and spent the afternoon with his legacy. He read to the quiet boy, walked with him in the garden and was pleased at how intelligent he seemed. However, all his ministrations couldn't produce the one thing little Louis needed most, his parents. Raoul paid little attention to him and Isabella ignored him. He hoped his devotion would give the boy some confidence. He rose and left his cabin, making his way down the long hall to the boy's room. He tapped once, and Annette answered.
"It's late, Sir..."
"Yes, Annette, I know, I'm sorry. I won't wake him."
He brushed past the nanny and sat by the boy's side, stroking his dark hair while he slept. One eye popped half-open and blinked at him.
"Papy?"
"Yes, Louis, Mon Chéri, it's me..go back to sleep."
"Love you, Papy..." Louis murmured, cluthing his stuffed bear.
"I love you to, Fiston..." For that was what the lad had become, his 'little son'.
Andre sat in a chair and watched the tiny features resting in sleep. He vowed when they landed in New York, he would talk to both of the boy's parents. It wasn't too late to make them see how blind they both were and how selfish. He made circles on the boy's flannel backed pajama's under the heavy quilt.
High above the magnicent ship, in a crow's nest the two lookouts cavorted. Suddenly Frederick Fleet shoved his mate, Reginald Lee hard, turning serious.
"Blimey...it can't be...Dear God!"
"What?" Lee turned, squinting ahead.
"ICEBERG....ICEBERG... DEAD AHEAD!" Fleet screamed into the radio, warning the duty officers below.
"REVERSE ENGINES!" First Officer William Murdoch orders harshly into the radio, alerting the crew, "...hard to starboard...hard to starboard..." he barked, a sinking feeling telling him the swift turn wouln't be in time. He grimaced as the horrid scraping sound began and the ice dug her teeth into the ship. He immediately activated the ship's watertight doors and called for Captain Smith.
Isabella had gone back inside, warmed up and now headed back to the promonade deck. She was looking forward to returning home, having spent a long, loney winter in France. She shivered, deciding that the cold night air was not for her. The cough she picked up the day before turned worse. She hoped it was only a cold, put the pressure in her chest persisted. As she turned to take the long walk back, she gripped the rail hard, lurching and falling as the boat struck something. She righted herself and moved quickly, her eyes trained to the large white monster.
"Oh God..." She hushed, as the ship brushed by close enough to almost feel the deadly ice. The silence was painful, the only sound the hiss of the air as they crept by. Then the vehicle slowed and stopped. She moved ahead again, hearing the seaman barking out orders.
Captain Edward Smith stroked his white beard and grimaced. This was his last voyage, a farewell from the fleet after his many years of service. He was retiring. He sighed and ordered the radioman, Jack Phillips and Harold Bride to begin the new call for help, an "SOS" replacing the standard CQD distress call. He moved to find his First Officer and assess the damage.
"How bad is it Will?" He paused, seeing the color drain from Murdoch's face.
"We have over 2200 on board, Sir...and only half that room on the lifeboats...
The senior captain groaned and scrubbed a hand across his face. How far were the nearest ships? Would they arrive in time?
"How long?" He inquired of the time they could remain afloat.
"About two hours, Sir..." The First Officer replied. "The Carpathia is on her way, full speed, but she's fifty eight miles away... I'll put the word out, get the passengers in vests and on deck." He watched the grim face nod and left, taking several seaman with him.
Raoul eyed the plump derrière poised so invitingly beneath him and smiled evilly, digging his fingers into the pale, pliant flesh. He saw the frightened wide eyes peeking sideways from where her face was crushed against the fabric. Tears streaked the pale cheeks and linens, making it all the sweeter.
"Silence!" He thundered, slapping her rotound rear that sat beneath his flank hard. "Move your knees forward!" He shoved her impatientely. He'd just raised her hips and was about conquer her, despite the feeble objections she cried into the pillow beneath her face. Then the lurch created a frown on his face, following by the slowing and stopping of the engines.
"What the devil?" He pushed his hot body up and pulled his pants on, before padding to the door. Just as he was about to reach the knob, a rap was sounded.
"Yes?" He peeked outside, spotting a seaman in the hall.
"We've struck an iceberg, Sir," the ruddy-faced lad reported, spotting a woman on the bed. "Your Missus, Sir, please get her and any children ready. We'll be putting out the lifeboats and..."
"Lifeboats!" He roared, "Don't be silly, Boy. This ship is unsinkable, I heard Mr. Ismay say so..." he noted of the suave Englishman who was the chairman of the White Star Line who had been bragging about the ship all week.
"She's taking in water, Sir, please report topdeck and have the missus and little ones issued a lifepresever..."
"Foolish Boy," He muttered, shutting the door. "I have every intention of filing a complaint. Of course we aren't sinking..." He strode back to the bed, noting that the terrified girl was trying to get dressed. "Get on the bed and on your knees..." he commanded, slapping her hard enough to daze her. He shoved her slumped body on the bed, on top of the fat pillows and grabbed her hips again.
Isabella raced to her cabin and threw the door open.
"Father! Father!" She cried out, before running down the hall. She rapped on Annette's door, just as the frightened woman appeared. "We haven't time to waste, Annette, get Louis and go to the upper deck. Where's my father?"
"He went to look for you Miss..."
"Damn!" She hissed, quickly finishing dressing the sleepy boy. He had heavy wool pants on, socks and boots. She pulled another sweater over his chest and shoved his coat, hat and mittens at the stricken maid.
"We're gonna die..."
"Stop that!" Isabella slapped the shocked nanny, "Not get your coat on and get my son in a damn lifeboat...now!" She grabbed Buttons, his beloved stuffed bear and shoved the now recovered woman into the hall. "I'll find my father and meet you...go!"
Where would he be? She ran back to her room and looked around, spotting a small black bag in her husband's closet. She fingered the soft leather and felt her blood boil. She recalled all to well the first time she had seen it. Several days after they were married, he'd brought it into their room. Unbeknownst to her, the wine he plied her with was drugged. He had no trouble manuevering her stuperous, compliant body into whatever position he desired. Two pairs of silver handcuffs held her to the bed, the wicked pinching tools and small whip did the rest. She knew where he was...she'd seen him with the wide-eyed foolish girl earlier that week. She pulled the cuffs out and then took an item from her own suitcase, tucking it in her pocket. She took five minutes to gather up her jewels from the safe and shove them in her leather satchel. Then she hurried to the second class cabin of Miss Violet the Strumpet. On her journey, she passed by the carts taking the cutlery to the kitchen for cleaning. The strike against ice had delivered the tools to the floor. She laughed aloud, taking a nine-inch steak knife and slipping it beneath her heavy, ankle length fur. She found the room quickly. The door was unlocked and she pushed it open, silently slipping inside and closing the door. Raoul was so lost in his ego trip, he never heard her. The sobbing woman caused her no sympathy.
"Was it worth it?" She said, as the girl's blue eyes spotted her.
"Isabella!" He hissed, his back muscles still rigid and his feeble manhood still planted deeply within the underside of the girl.The click of a gun in his ear halted his motions.
"Get off her, you filthy swine!" she ordered, backing up as he moved. She waited until the shivering girl slid free, rolling on the floor. "Sit on the floor!" she ordered her husband, pressing the gun against his neck. He pushed back against her, seeking the gun and it fired, breaking his shoulder and sending him to the floor. She acted quickly, taking advantage of his shock. Within seconds, both sets of cuffs held each arm to a bedpost. His back was against the bedframe as he sat on the floor. She shoved his soiled, discarded underwear in his mouth, before tying the girl's pantaloon's tightly around his head, gagging him. "Get dressed, layer as much as you can, it's cold outside. Get your coat and whatever whore fee he paid you and get the hell out." She ordered of the other woman.
Violet didn't wait, pulling flannel sleep pants on, over heavy wool socks. She pulled a flannel top on, a sweater and then a heavy wool skirt. Her boots went on quickly, as did the coat and hat. She opened the safe, taking her money and his check and left without looking back.
"You know, Raoul," She pondered, drawing the gun along his face. "I wonder if you'll drown or bleed to death first? Perhaps you'll suffocate slowly..." She put the gun in her pocket and pulled out the large knife. He was scared, terrified, actually and that made her laugh. She ran the blade down his face in one quick motion, opening a large gash. "You're not a man, you've never been one," she hissed, seeing Philippe's bleeding, abused face. She slashed his chest and sneered, "I had the pleasure of a real man and you'll feel the pain...for what you did to him. You murdering bastard!" She grit her teeth, knelt down between his sprawled naked thighs and drove the knife right through his 'arrogance' impaling him to the floor for all eternity. "Rot in hell you son-of-a-bitch" she whispered. His muffled scream was heard by no one and she watched for several minutes, fastinated by the blood pooling under him. She took out the gun, hitting his head just hard enough to silence him for awhile. Then she left, locking the door behind her.
"Everyone get out, Ma'am?"
"Yes," she replied to the approaching crewman, "The room is empty."
André was racing through the ship, trying to find Isabella. He'd seen Annette and Louis safely loaded into one of the first lifeboats. His loud protest when they lowered the craft, which held sixty five was left on deaf ears. The boat had only twenty woman and children on it, leaving others behind. He protested again and was manhandled roughly. Two large seaman shoved him inside and down a flight of stairs. He rubbed his twisted knee and rose awkwardly. He limped back to the cabin, shocked when he saw his daughter coming down the opposite hall.
"Bella!"
"Papa!"
They embraced and he kissed her cheek, grabbing her beautiful face in both hands.
"I thought I lost you..." He murmured, not letting go. "I'm so sorry Bella, for everything. I should have never forced you to marry that animal. I was blinded by my own selfish..."
"Shh!" She silenced him, seeing the anguish in his eyes. "It's over now...we'll start anew. Raoul will never hurt me or anyone else again. Louis and Annette?"
"Already gone, safe in the first boat to leave."
"Thank God," She sighed.
"Why aren't you with them?" He asked, knowing she'd come from the opposite direction.
"I left something in the room," She clutched the leather sachel bearing her jewels and her diary, "Let's hurry, there's a crowd out there and..."
"No, Bella, woman and children only. There are only enough boats for half of the guests."
"But...you can't mean...you'll die..." She stammered, feeling very young all of a sudden.
"I died a long time ago," he stroked her face, "I want you to keep these for Louis, they belonged to my father." He dropped a watch, money clip and took off his ring, bearing the family crest. "Go, Chéri, before it's too late. I'm joining John Astor and the others in the bar, there's a grand party there..."
"No Papa, I won't leave you." She protested as he steered her up the stairs and out the door.
"You must, that boy needs a mother. You've ignored him for too long. It's not his fault, why do you blame him? Love him, cherish him, raise him to be a fine man, not like the despicable cad who sired him. He's a good boy, so smart and he yearns for your touch. Love him , Cheri...promise me..."
"I...I...I will, Papa....I'll make you proud."
"That's my Girl!" he beamed, kissing her once before the crowd surged and she was torn away from his embrace forever.
"PAPA! PAPA!"
"Getting in, Miss?" A crewman caught her and shoved her onto the lifeboat. "Room for one more."
He watched until she was a speck in the dark sea and then turned back inside, joining the other weathy men in the bar. The best brandy was out and cigars were passed around. They shared their thoughts as the sands of time cruelly slid through the glass. He eyed his watch, it was two a.m. A group of men appeared, haggard and faces painted with unspeakable sorrow. The last of the lifeboats had been lowered. First class, second class and some of the men from steerage, bonded together, sharing tears and alchohol. Language problems did not arise, the common feeling of doom and sorrow bound them for all time. They sat and waited as the boat split in two and the watery crypt opened up, swallowing them whole.
The cries went up in unison and they all wept, tears freezing on their faces. They entered the lifeboat as strangers, but now they were joined by fate — a brave gathering of new widows and orphans. With a deafening crack, the boat split in two and sank, the water around them littered with the frozen dead, their blue faces locked in agony.
"Here, Dear, it will warm you up."
"Huh?" Isabella blinked as an elderly woman next to her, handed her a flask. "Thank you," She took a sip, not wincing at the burning sensation. Her father's words haunted her. How could she too, have been so blind? She blamed him for her misery and yet inflicted the same cruelness onto her own child. She would make his life better, be the mother he needed. But she'd never give up her quest to find her angels. If they were still alive, she'd find them.
Despite orders from the crewman of the rescue ship, Isabella remained topside. Her eyes on the horizon, where New York would soon be reached. She took the coffee from the anxious young man and waved him off. She was lost in thought, when a tiny hand and quivering voice, snapped her head.
"Mama?"
She turned and saw Annette before her, with a small, dark-haired boy at her side. She smiled and felt tears brimming on her eyes. She studied his face carefully, seeing so very much of her father. Why hadn't she noticed the strong Sauville resemblence before? She opened the blanket and he crept inside, cuddling against her. She nodded to the tired nanny, who sought relief from the cold air. She kept him under her coat and the blanket, rocking him and rubbing his back.
"I sorry, Mama..."
"For what?" She puzzled, watching his eyes appear from under the blanket. A tiny hand crept up and brushed her tears away.
"...you cry...I sorry..."
"No, Love," She choked, more tears spilling. She took that hand and kissed it, before rubbing it against her face and neck. "I'm sorry, for not being a better Mama. But that will change, it's just the two of us now. I do love you...so very much and I'm so sorry."
"No cry, Mama...all better?" He lifted his face and kissed her, then offered his beloved bear. "Buttons needs a hug too...he's scared."
She continued to cry, watching the sun in the sky and rocked him to sleep. As the hour of nine approached and New York appeared, the feeling of his warm little body pressed to her chest gave her a new breath of life. They'd be fine...she'd show him the world, one which they'd learn about together.
The large mansions of the wealthy neighborhood loomed around him as he jogged past. Running was a vital part of him, since he was a teenager. It cleared his head and gave him a peace inside. He knew his limits, however, and the normal five-mile run was out of the question. He'd only gone about a mile and already he was wheezing and struggling. He saw an old cottage ahead with a stone bench and headed over. His blue eagle-eyes detected movement and his shifted his gaze left. It was barely dawn and the rose and gold day had just awakened. Two young males were accosting what appeared to be an elderly woman.
"Hey! Hey! Get offa her!" Vin tore across the quiet street, jump kicking and sending one assailant hard into the ornate iron fence. Another kick send the companion hard ontop of his friend. They recognized the black belt techique and took off down the street. Vin bent over the woman, who was dressed in almost gypsy-like fashion. A long skirt went to her black boots, several colorful blouses were tucked under a long black cape. Her dark wizened features peeked from under the hood.
"Are ya okay, Ma'am." He helped her stand and was surprised and the iron like grip. She might be old, but she was far from frail. "Did they hurt ya?"
For several moments, the old one couldn't talk. The hands she gripped created the familiar explosion inside. Hot bolts of electrical-like charges coursed through her veins. She gripped the young one's wrists hard, turning both palms over. Yes, yes, there it was...her journey was over. At last the dark one would be sated. She drew her sharp eyes up and stared at the handsome stranger's face. She intensified the grip, she had to test him, she had to know if he possessed the strength. She didn't want to lose another one...she still saw the faces of those who'd died in the quest.
"Ma'am...can ya hear me?" Vin's voice wavered and he winced at he steel like grip on his wrists. It was painful, sending pins and needles up his arms to his neck. He got a little dizzy and the trees, iron fences and estate behind them started to disappear into a fog. "What the fuck?" he murmured, yanking his hands free. The Herculian effort it took sent her to the ground. "Damn..." he hissed, rubbing his eyes and waiting for the fog to lift and the dizziness to end. "I didn't mean t'shove ya so hard, Ma'am but ya was...Ma'am?" He blinked at the empty street. Where had she gone? He stood on the stone bench and peered at the large lawn of the estate. The fence was twelve feet high, she couldn't have gone over. Both sides of the street were empty. A chill crept up his spine as he saw a large black crow swoop over him, cawing loudly.
"Shit!" He jumped back, shaking his fear away. "Get a grip, Tanner," he murmured of the tight gut he possessed. She was a native to the area and knew the terrain. She was scared and moved fast, maybe he frightened her. He sat on the bench and drained his water bottle, which was strapped to his hip. He kept shifting his eyes, almost feeling like someone was watching him. He sighed twice and stood up, suddenly very eager to get back.
"Lesove...lesove..." the wind whispered of the savior as he jogged away on shaky legs. He'd passed the test, he possessed a powerful spirit, the strength he sent in that brief encounter thrilled her. The information she'd been given was true, she followed him silently, creeping ahead to where she'd knew he'd be. Finally, the day was drawing near, soon...so soon...would the quest be done.
By the time he got back to the Sauville House, he was gasping audibly and still shook up from the strange encounter. His legs were like lead and he wanted to rest, yet he was drawn to the magnificent garden. The scent of the many kinds of flowers was intoxicating and he entered the famous maze. The bushes were several feet above his head and thick and dense. As his trembling legs were pulled forward, his heart began to hammer. Sweat poured down his face and his breath came in pants. The entry grew narrow, the green dense folliage brushing his shoulders. He couldn't breathe and kept jerking his head around. She couldn't have gotten here first...yet he knew she was near. "Oh God..." he croaked, dropping to his knees..."Chris..." he clutched his chest, his heart banging so hard, it hurt him. "No...go away..." He pawed for his medal under this soaked white tee shirt and saw the skirts swirl by him.
"Sleep..." She whispered, "...and forget..." she ordered, blowing gently into his face. He slumped forward and she caught him, letting him lean against the bush. She drew out a small bottle, from the ancient cord around her neck. She annointed him quickly, chanting and calling on the others. She took his hands again, smiling and rejoicing at his strength. Then, as she drew out the silver object, a loud voice and a machine stopped her. Cursing, she tucket her amulet away and fled.
"You okay, Son?" The groundskeeper shut his hedgetrimmers off and knelt by the stilled figure. He tapped the boy's cheek and the face pulled back, eyebrows furrowing. "Hey, hey..." he tapped again and two eyes opened.
"What...happened?" Vin blinked, eyeing the bushes.
"I dunno, Son, I was trimmed the bushes and found you here." He eyed the damp running clothes and the water bottle. "You jogging?"
"Yeah, but...how'd I get in here?"
"Most likely you came in through the east gate, took a wrong turn and got lost. Back here, the maze gets real tight. If you panicked, could be you just lost your wind."
"Yeah," Vin nodded, vaguely recalling feeling trapped. "That must be it, thanks...I'm okay. How do I get back to the hotel?"
"Follow me," he hauled the boy up and led the way.
His restful sleep was interrupted by a deep wet coughing sound, a string of curses, a hissing pop, and gulping sounds, which were followed by a loud belch. He peeled a lid half open, trying to focus on the blurry green image inches from his pained eyes. He opened them wider and blinked, wishing the image hadn't become clear.
"Christ!" he mumbled, rolling into a sitting position and hunching over the side of the bed. He dropped his head and yawned, trying to shake the cobwebs loose.
"Mornin'! Beautiful day outside. I been waitin' on ya fer goin' on a hour. Had my run, showered, got dressed, got m' crud out, took my med's and got me m'Dew."
"Breakfast of champions," Chris Larabee yawned again, wrinkling his nose at the vile can of Mountain Dew in Vin Tanner's fist. "You're gonna rot your insides, you know that?"
"Like guzzlin' all the coffee ya do ain't harmin' ya none..." Vin slid his butt off the bureau and landed on the balls of his feet. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a steaming cup of coffee. "Here, wake yer ass up, we gotta make tracks."
"How far?" the blond grunted, rising, stretching and eyeing the red digital numbers on the clock. It was almost six thirty a.m. He took the mug and sipped carefully, squinting his eyes at the best friend. Vin was in jeans and a red shirt, his sunglasses hanging from his neckline. A silver chain bearing a St. Michael the Archangel medal disappeared under the shirt. The sword toting image on the gift from Josiah suited Vin and he was seldom without it. His eyes looked clear and he didn't seem to be wheezing as bad. "Vin..." he narrowed his gaze again, knowing that normally the Texan ran five miles every morning.
"A mile and back," the younger man assessed, "I was careful...I turned around when I got t'wheezin'...sure is pretty around here."
"How'd you do?" Chris took the coffee into the bathroom, pulling his shaving kit from the large drawer on the right of the vanity.
"Considerin' I'm loaded with crud," he answered of his infection, "not bad...a little over twelve minutes. I took a walk in that garden out yonder, damn near got lost..."
"Some tracker!" the blond grunted, lathering up.
"Weren't m'fault, huge maze out there, confusin' as all hell...the gardener rescued me."
Chris watched Vin's nose wrinkle and his brows furrow. The slim fingers were rummaging through the soft leather Larabee case.
"What the hell's all this fancy shit? Jesus yer totin' more bottles and tubes that a woman...ouch!" Vin cried out as his finger was nipped when the drawer was shut in a hurry. He sucked on it angrily, flashing blues at the blond in the glass.
"None of your fuckin' business, Sherlock!" Chris drilled the blue eyes looking at him in the mirror. "Do I nose around in your stuff?"
"Nothin' t'hide," Vin pulled out the other drawer, which was nearly empty. "Course it ain't yer fault ya need s'much help. Being old and all...plus ya weren't blessed with this face," he crowed in a cocky voice, raised a smug eyebrow and winked, causing the bemused blond to grin rakishly back at him in the mirror. It was a pleasant motion that came without hesitation. There was something about the raspy drawling Texan that made him feel good inside. A part of that was due to the fact that since coming to Denver and joining the team, Vin had started to fill out emotionally. He was still fairly reserved around stangers and more loose with the team. But when they were alone, like this, he as all Tanner, wild and wooly to the bone. He grinned wider, thinking on the great time they had the night before. That he had the power to give that gift to Vin, to let him open up and reveal himself, was a heady feeling.
"Vin?"
"Yeah?"
"Is there a reason your glued to my hip in the bathroom?"
"Oh..." Vin slid out the other door, "Hurry them creakin' bones, will ya, Larabee. They're makin' some kind of crazy banana stuffed French Toast downstairs, they got bitty pecan rolls, all kinds o' funky sausages and bacon and hey ya outta see..." Vin jumped back as the door was unceremoniously slammed in his face. "Crank!" he hollered, then paused, "Old Crank!"
"Beats the hell out of being a long-haired Texan river rat," the voice called back from the shower, "...with no ass!"
"Shut the hell up, Larabee!" Vin laughed, taking his soda and a bag of cookies from the gift basket outside on the patio. He slunk down in the chair and inhaled the perfume liberally dosed by the blushing flowers below. It was a magnificent garden and he wanted to explore it when he had more time. He knew from what the gardner told him, here was an antique gazebo in the center and a fountain. He felt drawn to it and a strong need to find the center. He pushed his head back on the tall chair and let the sun bake his face. He knew the medicine rush wouldn't last all day. The headache and crappy feeling would return. He'd gone over the outline again and the 830 to 430 schedule would seem like 12 hours. Oh well...he sighed and sat up, hearing the water shutting off. He flipped the television on and surfed, until he found a television preacher. He watched for a few minutes and grinned, shaking his head at the antics.
"Hey, Chris?"
"Yeah."
"C'mere...just fer a minute..."
"What?" the leader walked into Vin's room, clad only in socks and tight black jeans. His bronzed skin glistened from the shower and a towel was slung around his neck.
"That little feller in there, the one with the bad toupee," he gestered with his finger, "He cures folks right through the screen. He 'shouts the devil' right outta 'em. Iffen ya put what's ailin' ya on a paper and hold it to the screen, he heals ya...then ya send in a nice donation."
"That's fascinating Vin..." the other rolled his eyes and turned.
"Hold up," Vin called back, "Get yer head over closer and put t'the screen. Maybe he can cure all that hair yer losin'."
"What?" Chris backed up, frowned and narrowed his eyes. "...the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh," Vin said with a solemn face, cocking his to angle it, thereby seeing the side of back of the damp blond head. He lowered his voice and blushed a little, "Uh...nevermind...that's okay, Chris...really..." He turned back, grinning to himself and waited. He then tiptoed into the entryway and caught his friend preening the mirror, holding a smaller mirror up to see the back of his hair. "Gotcha!" He hollered, stumbling as Chris ran to smack him. They landed on a heap on the floor, the blond straddling him from behind and getting him in a headlock. He couldn't stop laughing and that didn't help, it made his coughing start.
"Call it!" Chris ordered, gripping the wheezing trickster.
"Fu...c...k...o..oo...ff..." Vin gasped, coughing again and panicking as his air was cut off. "Chris...don't...can't...brea..the..."
"Nice try, Champ," the blond resisted, "Call it...Vin?" He felt all the muscles go slack and jumped up, hauling Vin up with him and planting him on the bed. "Aw, hell, Vin, I'm sorry...you okay." He was forced back as the angry hands shoved him away, the watering blue eyes were flashing anger. He retreated to his room, finishing dressing and slipped his coat on. He peeked in the other room and saw it was empty. He moved into the hall, where Vin was sitting, holding his worn, brown buckskin coat on his lap.
"Sorry," Vin mumbled, "...lost m'temper..."
"Me too," Chris patted the back of the red cotton shirt. "I shouldn't have done that, you having one foot in an iron lung and all."
"Yer think yer smart, doncha?" the blues eyes teased, he rose and followed the other man down the long hall. "I was thinkin'..."
"There's a scary thought," the older man stonefaced, ducking to avoid a thwack.
"...anyhows, we got three whole days comin' later on, Friday t'Sunday. I got stuff from the internet, brochures from the lobby and a book from Ez..." Vin jogged to catch up with Chris's long strides, which were headed to Isabella's the garden restaurant. "I figure ya know these parts pretty good and ya can show me the city on Friday mornin', then we can have one of them muffleups...mufflewumps...aw hell..."
"Muffulettas," Chris donated, eyeing the Victorian restaurant in front on him. It was like stepping back in time to the turn of the century. The furniture, done in creams, roses and soft greens were all Victorian in style. The marble and crystal accents along with the plants, gave it a restful feeling. He nodded to the hostess, waiting for her to appear.
"Yeah...that's them funky sandwiches, right?"
"Right, at the Central Grocery," he noted of the famous deli and the speciality of the house. "I got twenty ridin' on a bet with J.D. that you can't finish one."
"Hah!" Vin crowed, smiling at the waitress, "...fool born every minute. Mornin' Ma'am, lovely day ain't it?" he flashed his best smile and was rewarded with a comely one back. "Ya got somethin' outside fer two?"
"Right this way, Honey," she took his arm and left the blond man grinning and shaking his head.
The table was on the edge of the garden and the scent of the colorful flowers only made it more pleasant. Chris ordered Eggs Isabella, coffee and juice. Vin ordered the Creole special, which was a spicy omelette, potatoes and peppers, andouille sausage and a small side of banana stuffed french toast.
"Hey, hey..."
"What?" Chris looked up at the animated blue eyes that matched the excited voice. He furrowed his brows in puzzlement as Vin bent over and began whispering.
"Did ya know this place is haunted? The gardner filled me whilst I was lost...s'got all kinds o'ghosts runnin' around, unexpained noises, doors bangin' and such...cool huh!"
"It sells rooms," Chris returned dryly, shaking his head and buttering a flaky croissant.
"Ya know ya shouldn't be s'close minded." Vin tried, "Guess that means ya won't be comin' on the haunted tour of New Orleans at midnight...even goes to a cemetary...and a voodoo place."
"You guessed right!" Chris muffled through his pastry and picked up his coffee. He found that smile again, as Vin continued to talk a blue streak. He nodded at all the sights to see and bars to hit, enjoying every animated Tanner feature. If only Vin was this relaxed around everyone.
"What the hell's that?" Vin wrinkled his nose in distaste as the waitress put a plate in front of his friend.
"Eggs Isabella," she supplied, "It's like Eggs Benedict, but with crabmeat and bechamel sauce. Will there be anything else?"
"Ya got anymore of them bitty pecan rolls?" Vin asked, with another killer smile and beguiling eyes.
"For you Shugah," the waitress winked and cupped his chin. "I'll make some..."
"Don't go t'any fuss fer me, Ma'am...that's okay...yer busy..."
"Shugah fuh that smile I'd pick the pecans..." she tapped his face and sauntered away.
"Don't go to any fuss fer me Ma'am..." Chris parrotted the Texan with a heavy accent, "You ought to be ashamed."
"Can I help it if women like m'natural boyish charm and killer looks?" Vin chirped, '...like bees buzzin' around a pot o'honey."
"You slay, me Cowboy," Chris laughed, shaking his head. "What?" he saw the scowling face peering over the table at his plate.
"It's got...green stuff...spinach?" he saw the blond head dip once, "Fer breakfast? Yer outta yer head...what's it swimmin' in? Is that cooked all the way...it's runnin' the hell all over the plate."
"Vin?" Chris lifted his eyes as well as his fork.
"Yeah?"
"Keep it up and I'm move your whinin' ass to the nearest Motel 6," he noted of the discount chain.
"Hummph!" the sharpshooter dug into this meal with gusto, "Ya outta feel right at home with all them crabs..."
"Here's yuh tea, Shugah," The waitress set down a hot carafe of water next to Vin and opened a retangular wooden box.
"Aw, hell...where's Ez when ya need him?" the blue-eyed one perused the large variety of tea.
"Ya like fruit or maybe herbal?" She coached.
"I need somethin' that don't need milk..." he wheezed, coughed and sneezed, "'scuse me, Ma'am....that weren't very nice...sneezin' at ya..."
"Yuh got a cold Shugah?" She frowned, resting her hand on his forehead and ignoring the loud groan from his companion.
"No Ma'am, it's some kinda germ convention in m'chest...a respiratory thing...I'm fine..." he blushed, ducked his head and eyed the tea again.
"I got somethin' in the back that'll take care of that, Shugah...clear that mess right up."
"Oh, No Ma'am...don't go t'any fuss...really," Vin blushed again and took his wide eyes up to her face.
"Fuss?" She pouted, cupping his chin, "Yuh let Jasmine worry about that...I'll be right back. Where yuh stayin'...I have the maid leave some in yuh room..."
"Upstairs," Vin began, scowling as Chris began to choke, covering his laughter with a celery green linen napkin.
"Yuh sick too?" Jasmine frowned at the blond.
"No, he's fine," the ailing man snapped, "He's full o'somthin' but it ain't congestion."
"The Sophia Suite," Chris wheezed, shaking his head as she left. "You'd put Ezra to shame, you fraud" he chuckled, then laughed aloud when a pink Tanner tongue was thrust at him.
"Here yuh go, Shugah," She placed two herbal tea bags in the hot water. "Rosalie will leave some in yuh room. Yuh need anythin' else, yuh let me know."
"Thanks Miz Jasmine," Vin poured sugar in the delicate china cup and poured hot tea over it. "...name's Vin...Vin Tanner," he extended his hand. "...much obliged..."
Vin continued to chatter through breakfast, planning their outings and discussing all the haunted houses in the French Quarter. Chris left Jasmine a hefty tip and took the bill to the cashier. He watched Vin saunter into the garden, studying the award winning fauna. As he waited, his cell phone rang.
"Hello."
"Hey Stud, how's life in the Big Easy?" Buck boomed, eyeing the clock. "I didn't get a call from the bail bondsman, so I was checking in..."
"Hey Buck, we just finished breakfast and we're headed over to Tulane. Anything cooking there?"
"Nah, all quiet on the Denver front, Rain's got Nate's drawer's in a bunch, turns out he..."
"Shut up Buck!"
Chris grinned as the bantering in the office came through the phone. He signed the check and room number, took his receipt and walked a few feet away.
"How's Slick holdin' up?" the womanizer inquired, shooting a paper ball at J.D.
"Who Huckleberry Finn?" Chris quipped, "He's riding a Mountain Dew high and hasn't shut the hell up all morning." His eyes trained on the world class sniper who was now surrounded by Jasmine, another waitress and the hostess. "He's blushing and Ma'aming his way right up to the fuckin' presidential suite." He paused, hearing the laughter on the other end. "You should have seen him at breakfast, coughing and wheezing all over, batting them blue eyes at the waitress. The little bastard's holding court now, he has three of them buzzing around him." Chris was within a few feet now, hearing the conversation. "They're gonna bring herbal tea to the room, somebody's making him soup for later and I heard the word massage mentioned."
"For his congestion?" Nate laughed.
"That's my boy!" Buck boasted, with a wide grin."You paint the town last night?"
"Yeah," Chris waved to Vin and jerked his head towards the door. "All kiddin' aside Buck, he's havin' a great time. Wait until you seen the video I shot of him on Bourbon Street. We just about got there and some Amazon nearly smothered him." He grinned at the explosion of laughter on the other end. "Listen, I gotta go...I'll check in later in the week. Tell Ezra to get out of my chair!"
"How's he do that?" J.D. amazed, watching the stunned gambler vacate the large black leather chair. They were gathered at the leader's desk, using his speaker phone. "See ya Chris. Tell Vin we were askin' for him."
Within a few blocks of their destination, Chris noticed the change. The flapping gums were stilled and it was a pensive profile he saw when he peeked over. "What happened? Your string get stuck?" He noted of the death of the chatterbox. Then he added up the clues and the eyed the slim fingers tearing the edge of the brochure into tiny strips. "You'll do fine, Vin. Why do you always worry? You shine in every class you take."
"Never liked the first day o'school..." Tanner replied quietly, "...feel like there's a bunch o'wet cats clawin' in m'gut."
"Take a deep breath," Chris commanded, pulling into the parking spot. He pulled down Vin's visor and tapped the small mirror, "look him in the eye and remember you're a Tanner, not some green-assed rookie."
Vin took several breaths and studied his reflection. He finally snapped the visor up, got out and stood tall. He followed Chris through the door and down the hall, until they found the right room. They were a few minutes early and of the thirty students, only about twelve were there. Chris noticed that one of the instructors was a very attractive woman. He saw Vin eyeing the thick binder and study sheets they were handed. The Texan's Adam's apple was bobbing at a record rate. "Worst gets worst, you can always start batting them baby blues, blushing and Ma'aming..." he teased, but Vin didn't grin. Then he frowned as the wheezing started. "Calm down! It's everybody's first day...relax will you?"
"Sorry," Vin mumbled, feeling foolish. He looked up as the tall brunette smiled at them.
"Hi, I'm Heather LaSalle, my partner Mike Kopcho is getting some the video equipment. We'll be splitting the duties." She paused, eyeing Vin trying unsuccessfully to stifle a cough. "Are you alright?"
"Yes Ma'am..." Vin rasped, giving in and coughing. He fumbled in his backpack and drew out a bottle of water. "...sorry..."
"That's okay, and it's Heather," she paused, eyeing the handsome blond.
"Larabee and Tanner, Denver ATF," Chris supplied.
"Right!" She nodded, checking her list . "Larabee, Chris? You're with the Rams...Tanner you're with the Eagles." She saw the confused looks and smiled. "Instead of numbers on the tables, we use NFL teams, to get a better sense of unity, working together...the tables are marked. You have about twenty minutes. There's a cafeteria in the next building that's open until ten a.m. and then from eleven thirty until 1 p.m. We'll break at noon for lunch, one hour. There's also vending machines down the hall, next to the bathrooms."
"Thanks, Heather," Chris shook her hand and shoved Vin forward. "You okay?" He saw the shaggy head nod once and the hand pop a cough drop in the dry mouth. Actually, it would be good for Vin to be on his own team. He knew Vin had leadership qualities and working with a group of newcomers would let him spread his wings. The morning flew by and Chris's table was next to Vin's. Each group has six teammates, the group would elect a Captain by the end of the day. The exercises were fun and creative, the laughter eased the tension and both instructors were good. He kept one eye trained on Vin every now and again, noticing he was relaxing. Vin's perception and quick responses to many of the puzzles didn't surprise Chris. He also noticed Vin's organizational ability coming through. He was the one who gathered the team notes, wrote down the checklist of possible solutions and made excellent responses. Lunchtime came and the decided to at a nearby Italian restaurant. They ordered a large pizza, half sausage and an order of garlic bread with smoked provolone and mozzarella cheese. Vin got an extra-large coke.
"You done good, Tanner," Chris complimented, pushing the straw into his ice tea. "How you feeling?"
"Good...better actually," Vin admitted, popping some Tylenol into his dry mouth, hoping to stop the headache he felt starting. "Real thirsty, though."
"How's the wet cats?"
"Huh?" Vin puzzled, then smiled, "Oh, they're gone. All the folks in m'group are okay. Everyone's from outta town, two from New York, one from California, one from Nevada and one from Florida."
"...and one displaced Texan..."
The pie went down easy, they discussed the class, the book, the homework and the office. The place was crowded and the blond could see his younger friend was getting restless.
"Go on, I got it," he offered.
"Thanks, I'm hittin' the head then goin' outside," Vin nodded, tossing some bills down and heading for the bathroom. He got done quickly, washed his face with icy cold water and headed outside, passing a middle-aged businessman who was entering. He stopped at the newspaper box, reading the headlines. It was on the side of the deserted building. Suddenly, he felt cold all over and turned quickly, hitting a cloaked figure in black. He inhaled sharply and went to move past, but both his hands were grabbed.
"What the hell's...goin'...on..." he slurred, feeling an almost electric current racing through him. His hands and arms were numb and his head was fuzzy.
"Do not fear me, young one," she chanted, staring hard into his now wide, unblinking eyes. "Come with me...I need your eyes...your heart...your blood...come...come..."
Vin blinked and eyed the strange surroundings. It was cold and he was damp. A dense forest was nearby and water rushed past his face. He was kneeling by water, he could hear it, smell it, feel it's mist on his face. Then a hot pain shot through his chest, taking all his breath away. He felt himself falling and felt the earth rise up to meet his face.
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