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.
Oblivious to the peril his best friend was in, just outside the door, Vin was locked in his own nightmare. Chris's face was covered in blood and the murderer's gun was pressed close to his neck. He fought against the arms that restrained him, crying out a warning to his fallen friend. He saw the deceiver's sneer and lashed out, then fell back into a deep sleep.
"Thank God!" Gabrielle hissed, easing the patient back down and running outside to see what the loud argument was about. Caitlin was standing just inside the foyer, a lusty rain hitting her face. The wind shrieked in protest as the doctor's trained eye saw blood on the broad white doorpost. Then she saw Chris Larabee's hands cuffed and a gun to his neck. She didn't have to blink, she knew who the bearer was and her stomach turned. Geoff Trent wasn't a bad looking guy, short dark hair, dark eyes with a rakish scar under his eye and to his cheekbone. He stood several inches over six feet, was a wall of muscle and abused the power of the badge he wore. She hadn't liked Lt. Geoff Trent from the moment she met him. She and Cait had more than a few arguments over the fact that Cait dated him. As the weeks turned to months, the relationship turned serious, with an engagement ring appearing on the ten month anniversary of their first date. Brie's heart sunk, the only man Cait was destined for, Ryan McKenna, was too blind to see what he was throwing away. Now, she felt her disgust build up, watching Trent sneer over the groggy blond and dig his knee deeper in the cuffed man's back, gaining a grunt of pain.
"What the hell are you doing?" She screamed, moving quickly to Chris's side. "There's no excuse for this, you've hurt him..."
"Stay out of it, Doc!" Geoff nearly crowed in delight. Seeing Chris Larabee's bleeding face was an unexpected pleasure. Then a thought knawed at him, why was he here? Had he uncovered something about his wife's death that connected them to the murder? "Who the hell is this guy? He attacked Caitlin."
"He's just a man on vacation... his friend collapsed outside and I was helping them."
Vacation? He relaxed a a little, then grabbed the damp blond hair and laughed as the ATF agent protested.
"...be... a ...sorry fuckin' bastard..." Chris grunted, blinking hard against the dizziness that was still surrounding him. Blood ran in a haphazard line down his face, meeting and mixing with the crimson stream that ran from his cut lip.
"You keep that mouth shut, Larabee, and maybe, just maybe, you won't have an accident on the way in."
"In?" Cait found her voice, "but... he didn't do..."
"Assault and battery and resisting arrest to start... he's going downtown."
"The hell he is!" a six-foot-four wall of blue-eyed menace dictated.
"Ryan!" Cait nearly wept in relief, at the sight of her handsome brother-in-law. His eyes were dark and stormy, locked on the man she was supposed to wed. A pale lavender slicker was nestled tight in his arms. He moved towards her, handing the sleeping child safely over.
"Get her out of here." He waited until mother and daughter disappeared into the back of the house and wheeled around, eyes shooting fire. "Quit playing Kojak, Trent and let that man go."
"Stay out of it, McKenna, it's none of your business," Geoff turned and smiled smugly, "he attacked my fiancé."
It took all of Ryan's nerve to hold back the hatred he felt towards this man. He was an arrogant, over-bearing, egomaniac and what Cait saw in him was a mystery. He was also a very dangerous man who abused his power.
"Geoff, can we at least talk about it?" Brie suggested, pressing a cloth against the cut over the injured man's eye. She felt every muscle on his lean body straining and felt the venom oozing from every pore. She used her free hand to squeeze his shoulder in warning.
"Talk? Go ahead, you follow him to the car while I read him his rights..."
"You're not taking him anywhere, unlock the cuffs," Ryan said in a deadly voice, just inches from Geoff's face.
"You interfering? I'd love to lock you up. I bet the lifers in the Big House would love a piece of your candy ass..." Trent shot back, feeling the rage he always felt when he was near McKenna. He saw Cait stealing looks at the former NFL'er. He knew she loved him.
"You want trouble? My pleasure," Ryan goaded, "The newspapers and television will be all to happy to get my eyewitness account. I saw you beat an unarmed man in handcuff's... a man whose done nothing wrong. I'm sure there are a lot of faces in the 'Big House' that would love a reunion with you..." he lashed out, every chord in his neck straining. "You overbearing mother fucker..."
Chris's first sigh of relief came when he heard Ryan's voice. Having a tough, strapping body who was clearly not afraid of the out-of-control cop, gave him hope. Now, as he watched the exchange of words, he liked the fire shooting from McKenna's eyes. He had balls and guts and Larabee like that. The room wasn't spinning quite so hard and he began to breath better.
"Trent, take these cuffs off my patient," Gabrielle insisted, "he's bleeding and he needs stitches. Caitlin, are you pressing charges?" She asked to the shaken woman, who reappeared alone.
It wasn't a question, Cait knew that. She also knew Ryan had long passed the dangerous zone. Something about the look on Geoff's face made her cringe. It was a feeling that left her cold inside and fearful, the same feeling that prevented her from setting a wedding date. "No," she shook her curly head, "He ran into me, it was an accident. Please Geoff, don't hurt him. I'm fine, no harm was done."
Reluctantly, he unlocked the keys and shoved Larabee hard as he stood up fully. He holstered his weapon and stared hard at Ryan McKenna, seeing bloodlust in the blue eyes. "This isn't over, McKenna."
"Time and place, Fuckface!" Ryan's anger boiled over and he lost control. "I'll tear you apart..."
"Ryan!" Cait moved between them, pressing her small hands on his narrow waist. "Help Brie with Chris, please?"
He grunted and shoved past the cocky cop, bending over and firmly grasping the fallen man's underarm. "You okay?" He asked, hearing the door shut as Cait went outside to talk to Geoff alone.
"Thanks to you," Chris nodded, sighed hard and swayed, grateful for the other man's steadying arm. "I'm grateful."
"Oh it was my pleasure, if he wasn't wearing a badge..."
"Yeah," Chris smiled, catching the other's eyes. "Thanks for that too!"
"What happened?" he asked, having only seen Trent slam and manhandle the blond.
"My name is Chris Larabee, my friend Vin Tanner and I are ATF agents from Denver. Vin got sick... right as the storm broke out. He was running and collapsed, just outside. Doctor Marquette was kind enough to help us... give us shelter, tend to Vin."
"She's really an angel, you know," Ryan said with a wink to the pretty brunette, who he both respected and admired. She was good people, plain and simple.
"A tired angel," Brie said, turning to Larabee, "You heard him cry out?"
"Vin?" Chris blinked, eyeing the closed door to the exam room, "I got turned around in the hall and thought that door..." he sighed, "Yeah, I heard him. I wasn't paying attention and ran into... she's looks so much like my late wife... it stunned me... right down to the locket."
"Locket?" Ryan puzzled, but the doctor intercepted.
"Ryan, how about making fresh coffee, there's soup if you want some. I'll stitch up Chris and we'll meet you in the kitchen. We'll get all of this straightened out, okay?"
"You're the boss, Doc!" he teased, kissing her cheek, "I'm sorry about losing control. I didn't mean to swear like that. It's just the sight of that bas..."
"Yeah, I know," She squeezed his hand. "Go on..."
"Thanks, again, McKenna," Chris nodded, letting the slim, pretty doctor lead him away.
"Over here," She shut the door behind her and pointed to an examination table across the room. She smiled as he went immediately to Vin Tanner's side. One bloodied hand was holding a cloth to the marred eye. The other hand tugged the blanket up to the sleeping man's neck, rested briefly on his shoulder, before moving back. She didn't miss the worry on his face. "He's okay... it was just a bad dream."
Chris moved across the large, clean office and sat down, eyeing the pretty doctor's face. She cleaned the wound and then pulled a metallic tray over, with stitching tools. "Ow!" he hissed inadvertantly, when she dabbed antiseptic on the wound. He didn't miss the fire in her eyes and the stern set of her chin.
"Sorry," she sighed and turned away, picking up the needle.
"The cop friend of yours has an attitude problem," Chris winced as the needle bit his skin. "I could have fun fixing it..."
"That snake's no friend of mine!" She released in a huff, "and I'd pay to see you or Ryan teach him a lesson."
"I like the way you think, Doc," he whispered, "Seems to me, she could do a lot better... she ought to look in her own backyard."
"You might as well talk to that wall," The doctor finished with the head and moved to stitch the lip. "She's in love with Ryan and I know he loves her... but he blames himself for Max's death. The guilt nearly broke him... he keeps her at arms length. The only time he lets the love he has inside show, is with Grace. He's crazy about that child." She concentrated on her work, stopping briefly.
"Grace?" Chris recalled fuzzily a blurry pastel bundle going up the stairs. "Caitlin's daughter?"
"Just turned five and a heartbreaker. They moved in here three years ago after Max was killed." She paused pulling the thread through the wound. "Cait needed him then, in those first months after... but he was a lost soul. After his body healed, he took off for almost a year, travelled around the world. He came home when Seamus, his grandfather, took sick. We hoped maybe once he saw her again..." her voice trailed off, recalling those difficult months after his return, "but he got worse, angry and brooding, shutting us all out, except little Grace. Caitlin is a beautiful woman..."
"You don't have to tell me that twice, Doc, I got eyes..."
"She's smart, loves life and gradually the wound healed, but she was lonely. Almost a year ago, she met ...him..."
Chris smiled, pulling at the stitches in his lip, as the disdain on the pretty face. "How'd you two meet?" He asked, changing the subject.
"In high school," she smiled, "I was a shy, only child, quiet and withdrawn. Cait was outgoing, wild, crazy... we've been best friends... sisters really, ever since. She met Max in New York, working at a museum. They were so happy... until her world exploded with that car..."
"Car?" Chris's ears perked up.
"Three years ago, when Max was killed. His car went off the road outside town. He was investigating the Moreau estate, after the will was probated. Louis Moreau was a millionaire, in his will he left orders to find his mother's lost heirs." She paused, watching him shake his head. "Hold still, I'm almost done... there!" she snipped the edge.
"There's so many coincidences, it's scary..." he eased off the table. "Thanks, Doc, how much..."
"No," She put both hands up, "Forget it..." then she understood the reason for the lingering question in his eyes. "You're staying in his house... Louis's house became The Sauville... named for Isabella's father."
"Max..." He cocked his head, "McKenna... the writer!"
"The same." She paused over Vin, taking his pulse and respiration. She stuck the probe in his ear to record his temp and then took a blood sample. "It's up ...he's nearly back to normal."
"He was good... I read his books, his articles. He was very good. I don't remember that accident, it was almost the same time Sara was killed. But later, there was a retrospective on television, they showed news footage. Wasn't Ryan there... hurt... yeah," he answered himself. "...ended his career."
"Max was almost certain that Isabella had a child, up near Baton Rouge. That her first husband was a painter, a poor artist who her father didn't approve of. Somehow, Raoul, the man her father picked to marry her, found out where they were. Max's theory was that Raoul murdered him. But there was no trace of the baby. Until that night... he called and left a message on Cait's machine. Then he called Ryan and told him to get Cait and Grace out of town... he was scared. Max McKenna covered the bloodiest wars in this world, for him to be scared..." she paused, "Ryan said later Max had proof and whatever it was, it terrified him. Ryan took Cait and Grace to a private airfield and chartered them a flight north to New England where her mother and grandmother were. He was on his way back, when he saw... well... the police said Max was driving crazy... all over the road. The official report has him losing control and going over a cliff. Ryan feels he was murdered. He got there, tried to stop the car and fell."
"What does she see in Trent?" Chris broke the silence following the recap.
"I don't know."
"You don't trust him?"
"No, and I don't think, deep down, she does either. That 's why she won't set a date. If I could only convince that thick-headed Irishman how wrong he is... that no one blames him for Max's death and that he's about to lose the only woman he's ever loved."
"He's seems like a good man..." He theorized, and was usually a good judge of people.
"He is... one of the best." She saw him smile and turn quickly, when the young man on the bed moaned. "You two close?"
"...and then some, Doc. After my wife and son died, I was in a dark place, cold, alone, shut the whole world away. Vin, he brought the sun back, without even trying."
Voices... he heard voices in the woods. A woman... and a man. A woman? Isabella? Was his beloved here? He cracked his eyes open and saw Chris. The man with blond hair and penetrating green eyes was Chris. He knew the name matched the face. But he didn't know how or why he knew this man.
"You're okay, Vin," Chris tried to take the confusion from the fuzzy blank stare that met his eyes. "You remember the doctor? She's been... Vin?" The blank stare grew into fear and the body stiffened on the cot. Twin blue balls of apprehension flew around the room.
Vin? Who was this 'Vin'? He eyed the pretty young woman and the strange clothing she wore. Pants? On a woman? He eyed the man again and wondered about that. He felt the man's hand on his blanketed arm and pulled away. Again he stared at the strange clothing.
"Vous devriez poursuivre votre tailleur en justice," he gasped in distaste.
"Shit!" Chris clenched his eyes shut and balled his fists."Here we go again..."
She laughed and covered her mouth.
"What?" Chris inquired, seeing blue fury in the sharpshooter's eyes.
"He uh... said you should sue your tailor." She whispered and grinned.
"Yeah, well at least I'm wearing clothes!" He shot back and saw the younger man's face flush. He began to speak so fast and furious, Chris lost track. He saw Vin trying to sit up and shoved him back down.
"He wants his clothes and he wants out of here."
"That's enough, Vin, cut it out, now!" Chris hollered and saw Brie shake her head, mouthing words out of Vin's sight. 'He's not Vin'...that rocked him. He backed up and watched the younger man struggling to remain in control. His eyes were large and fearful, his breating in short pants. Somehow, the doctor's soft voice and hand on his cheek was working. "Comment allez-vous?" She asked, wondering how he was feeling.
"Je ne me sens pas bien," he admitted to not feeling well. "vertiges...nausées..." Yes, he was dizzy and nauseous.
"What?" Chris demanded, feeling very left out. "Is he worse?" He got impatient, "Dammit, Vin, speak English!"
"Je m'appelle Gabrielle Marquette," she introduced, moving her face close to his. She could feel his hot breath and could so easily get lost in those limpid blue eyes.
"...Philippe Dubonnet..." Vin stammered, his eyes not leaving hers. Then another picture appeared, his infants... the angels... where were they? Isabella? What about the men by the river? His hands went to his head and chest? There was no pain. "Je ne comprends pas?"
"I know you're confused," she said slowly, addressing his question. "Philippe, Anglais?"
"Where are my babies?" he blurted, eyeing Chris with hostility. "What have you done with, you filthy curr! I am very handy with a saber, you swine and it will be my great pleasure to carve my name on your chest!"
"What?" Chris shot back, leveling a scowl. "Jesus, Vin you speak better English when you're French, then you do when your American. How is that possible?"
"I am not a... a... Vin..." he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "I will have my clothes now... I need to find my wife... my children... I need... those men who attacked me... by the turn in the river..."
"Your wife!" Chris's breath caught.
"Isabella..." Vin felt the room spinning and collapsed, letting the strange-dressing pretty woman lower him back down. "I am... sorry... Madame... I... I..."
"He's out again," she pulled the blanket up, "We need to talk!" She turned on the monitor above the cot and jerked her head, "Let's go."
"How's your friend?" Ryan asked, seeing the lost look on the blond man's face. He put a pot and four mugs on the table. Brie got down a tin of shortbread cookies and flipped the button on the monitor hanging on the wall. Vin's sleeping body appeared, his features relaxed and resting.
"Is he gone?" Chris asked of the abusive policeman. Caitlin quietly nodded. "Good... because I don't trust him, he's up to something."
"Chris, can I call you that?" Caitlin asked and saw him nod. "I know you got off to a bad start but..."
"Bad?" he took a mug of steaming coffee and sipped carefully. "Lady, he tried to kill me." He paused, eyeing Ryan, who he felt clearly was an allie. "You don't trust him either, do you?"
"Not from the minute I had the misfortune of meeting him. What?" He asked, seeing a question lingering in the green eyes. Then drifted to the monitor for a second, before turning back.
"I'm a pretty judge of people and my gut's twisting... and something he said." He paused, sipped and continued. "he said something about uh... 'keep your mouth shut Larabee'." He looked at every face, then stayed on Ryan's. "How'd he know my name?"
"That's right!" Brie leaned in, stirring French Vanilla creamer into her cup. "I didn't... nobody mentioned your name. How does he know you?"
"I don't know, but after this past week and the crazy stuff that's been going on..." he sighedin frustration. He turned to Caitlin then and the shock set back in. It was almost surreal... as if Sara was sitting with him. "I'm sorry, Mrs. McKenna, I hope I didn't hurt you."
"It's Caitlin and it's done now, I'm fine."
"I think, when you see this," he pulled out his wallet and took out a photo of Sara, "You'll understand my severe reaction."
"My God, that's uncanny!" Ryan was the one shocked now, looking at a woman with long dark hair, who face mirrored his sister-in-laws. "How is that possible?"
"Doc, you have a magnifier?"
"Sure..." Gabrielle rose and shuffled through a drawer in the large cabinet. "Here..." she handed it to Cait and stood behind her, eyeing the close up.
"Look at her neck..." Chris's voice was broken... seeing Sara's 'twin' was opening up an old wound.
"Oh my God!" Caitlin gasped, clutching her throat, seeing her necklace on the other woman. "How... can... that... be..."
"May I?" Chris asked, palm out. He nodded in gratitude. "It's identical..the rose, the scalloped edges... the inscription inside, 'Now and Forever'. But this... is different. Yours has 'ARD', Sara's has 'ALD'. She got it from her grandmother too... Lily and she were very close, Lily raised her."
"Lily?" Gabrielle asked.
"Alexandra Lily is her given name." Chris paused, "That's the AL of the locket. She was adopted as an infant with another child, ten years older, Sara. Sara fled Louisanna with Lily when her grandmother died. She had no mother and found her father in New Mexico. He adopted both of them. Sara had Lily's birth mother's journal. She added to it... kept the secret guarded. Something in the book terrified her."
"ALD... ARD... Twins!" Caitlin whispered, "My grandmother, Grace, was adopted in a small church near Baton Rouge. She was found in a basket, by the Blessed Mother's image. I can't believe it... we never knew what the initials meant. She was wearing this... when they found her."
"Aimée... no..." Chris closed his eyes and rubbed them. "Annabelle... no... shit... Sara told me once..." He sighed and tapped his fingers on the table. "She read the journal once, when she was carrying Adam." He slid a second picture over, taken right before the boy died. "He was only five..."
"I'm so sorry, Chris," Cait's heart broke, she couldn't imagine if Grace had been killed. She moved her hand across the table to squeeze his. Her eyes welled up and she choked back a sob.
"Thank you," He saw and felt her pain, for him and nodded.
"Jesus, that's scary," Ryan pointed to a photo on the refrigerator. "That's Grace, she's five, Cait and Max's little girl. With her hair short..."
"Yeah," Chris managed, barely able to look at the five-by-seven color photo. It did look alot like Adam. "Angélique Rose!" He blurted, "that was the other baby. Sara read the journal once... I was only half paying attention to her, but I remember that."
"Chris?" Gabrielle's quiet voice was full of concern, her nearly turquoise eyes went to the monitor. "...that's it, isn't it... that's who he was looking for?"
"Yeah," the blond allowed himself to admit.
"Who?" Caitlin asked, then looked at the image on the small screen. "Your friend?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed, "We're staying at the Sauville House. We were in class in Tulane until Tuesday. For over a week now, Vin's been having strange dreams... passing out... speaking in fluent French. There's a maze behind the house, he spends a lot of time out there. One night, I found him there, disoriented, speaking French, looking for his 'beloved'."
"Isabella!" Cait recoiled, knowing the history of the famous family. "So... you think... my grandmother... was one of her babies?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed, "Just now, we both heard Vin again. He was looking for his 'babies' and 'Isabella', he identified as his wife. He said his name was Philippe Dubonnet."
"ALD, ARD, that's it!" Cait gushed, "My God , Do you know what that means!"
"I'm beginning to get the picture," Ryan observed, thinking of Max's work. "The night my brother was killed, he was in that place." McKenna recalled, then gave a brief recap of the reporter's job there. "There's been a rumour for years that Isabella had proof of her first marriage and a child. That a book was hidden in that house somewhere. He found it... and somebody killed him for it." For a change, he didn't pull away when Cait took his hand and leaned on his shoulder. Instead, he drew her close, gaining strength from her.
"You said Lily's older sister had Isabella's first journal?" Gabrielle asked, moving her hand over the blond man's. She knew this was hard for him, especially since Cait looked so much like his dead wife. "I know it hurts, and I am so sorry. But you have a stake in this too, Chris. You... we... need to find out the truth "
"Your word!" He asked Caitlin, "You can't tell him..."
"I promise, Chris." She vowed, "Where's the book now? Can we see it? Do you have it?"
"No," Chris pursed his lips and eyed the phone on the wall and the clock. "But I know somebody who can. Can I use your phone?" A few minutes later, he heard a familiar voice. One person, aside from Vin, the only person he could trust with this problem. "Buck, I need a favor... a big one. Are you sitting down?"
Although the large leather couch in the room with Vin was comfortable, Chris had a hard time sleeping. It seemed like he'd just fallen off, when he felt something brush against his arm. He blinked in the semi-darkness and saw a body stumble past. The digital readout on the clockradio next to the bed shouted four-fifteen a.m. in large red letters. The low glow provided by a nightlight was enough for him to spot Vin padding into the foyer.
"Vin!" he whispered, tossing off the blanket that covered him. He hoped none of the ladies in the house were up for a snack. The sight of a naked, sleep-walking Texan would be startling to say the least. "Vin, come back here." He caught up to the sleeping patient, just as the younger man was about to urinate on the antique rug in the middle of the foyer. "Whoa!" he hissed, grabbing Vin's arm and slapping his face lightly. "Put the pony back in the barn, Cowboy, this ain't the bathroom."
"Huh?" Vin rasped, squinting in confusion. "...moved... it..."
"Nobody moved it, come on," Chris guided him to the small bathroom in the entryway to the doctor's office. "There," he left Vin in front of the commode and went to get his clothes.
"...it shrunk..." Vin muttered of the tiny room. He blinked, yawned and shivered.
"It rained last night," the other replied, moving to the dazed man's side.
"Oh!" Vin nodded, seemingly satisified. Then he saw the new stitches above Chris's eye, a bruise on his cheek and a fat, stitched lip. "Yer hurt!"
"I took a little fall, it's fine."
"Where we goin'?"
"Nowhere, you need to put some clothes on." Chris answered the confused, groggy voice.
"Oh," Vin sighed, lifting each leg and shoving his arms whenever commanded. He ran his dry tongue around his Sahara like mouth and clucked it several times. "I need a Dew..."
"Here," Chris guided him back to the bed and eased the back up. Once Vin was in a semi-sitting position, he handed him a large cup of fruit juice. The lid was snapped on and it had an attached straw. Dr. Marquette left fruit juice, pudding and cookies if Vin woke up.
"This ain't Dew." Vin burped, having gulped down the cold liquid.
"It's fruit juice, want more?" He inquired, but the redtinged lips were already parted. The eyes were closed and the Texan was sleeping. Chris lowered the bed and pulled the blanket up, before resuming his own sleep.
"Wilma!"
Vin's eyes jerked as the distinct sound of Fred Flintstone's voice filled his ear. When the black and flesh blur in front of him cleared, a tiny face was revealed. Just inches from his own, leaning over peering at him intently, was a heart shaped face with a cap of black curls and large amethyst eyes.
"Miss Emily thinked you were dead."
"Huh?" Vin croaked, rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the new day shining through the window. "Who?"
"Miss Emily."
"Oh," Vin ducked back as an antique cloth doll was shoved in his face. It was wearing a faded blue calico dress and wore a kerchief tied to a cluster of yarnlike curls. "Sorry t'disappoint ya. Where are we?" He peered around the unfamiliar room, still shaking the cobwebs from his head. Other than lightheadedness, he felt fine.
"In my house..." she paused, screwing up her small face. "Well, me and my Mommy live here with Aunt Gabrielle, she's a doctor. My Daddy's in heaven."
"I'm sorry t'hear that," Vin studied the small child, a small girl about five, who was wearing fuzzy pink Barbie blanket sleepers. "My Pa and Ma are in heaven too and I miss 'em a lot sometimes." He ran his eyes around the office again, as images of a very beautiful woman with gorgeous blue-green eyes and pale cocoa skin floated into his mind. Then other images appeared, her caring for him, taking softly to him, calming his fears. A bad nightmare, Chris by his side and a bad storm. When he turned back around, the small body had wormed it's way onto the bed next to him. "Somethin' wrong with yer eyes?" He backed up, as the face leaned into his again, eyes narrowing. "Where's yer kin? Ya the only one up?"
"My what?" She wrinkled up her nose at the strange twang and word.
"Kin... uh... yer Ma, brothers and sisters and such..." Vin translated with a sloppy yawn, which dribbled onto his chin. He swiped at it and eyed the Bedrock bowling alley on television.
"I can spit too, Uncle Wyun teached me, wanna see?"
"No, yer a little lady, ya oughtna be spittin'."
"You sure talk funny!" She giggled, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Miss Emily thinks you're pretty!" She announced, studying his face carefully.
"Well, Miss Emily," Vin's voice softened, he smiled and shook the tiny, rag doll's hand, "I think yer right pretty too." He winked at the small girl and ruffled the black curls.
"I'm Grace," she said, holding up a ziplocked bag full of sugar pops cereal. "Want some?"
"Tell ya what," he gingerly eased his body over to where a small cooler stood. He vaguely recalled Chris pulling something to drink from here during the night. He saw the scattered blanket on the couch and smelled coffee. Chris must be awake and seeking caffiene. He found the remainder of the juice, poured two cups, snapped the lids on and returned to the bed. "I'm Vin, how 'bout we share?"
"Okay," she nodded, picking up the remote and aiming it at a tiny television that was suspended from a bending iron arm in the ceiling. "Aunt Brie said I wasn't supposed to bother you. Am I bothering you?" She cocked her head and saw him smile.
"No, Darlin' yer not botherin' me," he yawned again.
"Good! Then it's okay to stay," She decided, flipping past the dial. Several children's shows went by in a technicolor blur, when a familiar yellow square shape filled the screen.
"Hey Bob's on!" Vin grinned, taking a handful of the sweetened cereal.
"You like Spongebob?" Her eyes grew wide and her voice rose in awe and newfound appreciation.
"Hell... uh... I mean... uh... heck yeah," Vin crowed, chuckling at the antics on the screen. "I never miss him."
Twenty minutes later, having swapped their favorite cartoon episodes, colors and love for chocolate, they two new friends went into the kitchen. His eyes widened in appreciation, as he took in the large, warm, well-appointed room. The cabinets, countertops and stove bespoke a Victorian kitchen of days gone by. One part of the large wall facing the yard, was a window seat. Outside was a lovely garden and glider. He spotted a note on the table and walked over. It was from Chris, he'd gone upstairs to shower and would return. Nodding, Vin turned as his pint-sized hostess beckoned from a replica of a turn of the century ice box.
"This is my shelf," She announced proudly, "All the stuff I can have are down here, so I can reach 'em, see?" She pointed to juice boxes, pudding, fruit cups and yogurt. "You gonna drink that coffee?" She eyed the brewing liquid and saw him wrinkle his nose and shake his head.
"Nah, I'm a hot chocolate guy... Miss Emily like hot chocolate?" He smiled, spotting a large cannister of Swiss Miss Hot Cocoa Mix nearby.
"Do I... I mean she sure does!" Grace squealed, but then grabbed his wrist. "We can't have that. We need a grown-up to work the stove. We gotta do the milk thing."
"I reckon I can figure out how t'boil some water," Vin reassured, lifting a copper tea kettle and filling it with water.
"No!" Grace flung her body against his legs, "We can't use the stove. That's breaking the rules. We gotta wait for a grown-up!"
"Okay," he backed up, not wanting to upset her, and replaced the kettle. Just then, he heard movement from a staircase nearly hidden by the pantry. A pale face, uncombed wet blond hair and a hard set of green eyes appeared. An image flashed of a storm and the two of them in the street. Chris must have cut his eye there, during the fall. Vin's grin split his face, he loved the 'pre-caffiene-don't-look-at-me-if-you-want-to-live' Larabee look. He bit his lip, trying not to laugh as the bubbly child grew silent and backed up against his legs. Her curly head followed the man in black across the room and back. Vin waited until the brooding man was seated and the mug of black coffee nearly to his lips.
"Mornin' Cowboy!" he boomed, grinning again as the shoulders jumped and the coffee nearly spilled.
"Vin!" Chris growled, "One of these days I'm gonna fu..." He stopped as Vin's loud 'throat'clearing' noise stopped him mid curse. He saw the Texan pointing downward, to a pretty little girl who was leaning against him, eyes wide. "...uh... uh..."
"...remember t'say Good Mornin' back?" Vin offered.
"Yeah..." Chris stared at his friend hard, saw the eyes clear and color on the handsome face. "How do you feel? You collapsed during the storm outside last night. Some kind of trauma mixed up with your blood sugar."
"Pretty good... a little shakey..." Vin patted his flat ribcage.
"You need to eat," the blond decided, sipping his coffee.
"We was fixin' on doin' that... we need a grownup t'work the stove!" he grinned and saw the confused look on the other's face.
"Huh?"
"We was gonna have some hot chocolate," Vin announced.
"So go ahead," Chris replied, picking up his mug.
"Can you turn the stove on, Mister... uh... Mister..."
"Old Grizzly," Vin supplied, watching twin beams of green fire shoot at him. "Reminds ya on one don't he?"
"Your arm broke?" Chris drilled the all too amused Texan.
"We ain't allowed to work the stove. Only a grown-up can work it, so can you, Mister Grizzly?" the small girl asked.
"Vin..." Chris warned, as the sharpshooter's laughter filled the kitchen.
"Puts me in mind o'a whole new theme fer yer birthday, Mister Grizzly. Yup, tee-shirts, mugs, might even spring fer a sign out front..." He saw Chris's confused face. "I ain't growed up enough," Vin's animated eyes lit up even further, as he answered the silent question. "Please, Mister Grizzly... we got an awful hankerin' fer cocoa."
"Yeah," Grace's head bobbed, one hand slide into her new friend's larger one. "Miss Emily's got a... a... hankerafakin... too..."
"Josiah's right, sometimes God has a cruel sense of humor," Chris sighed, rose and turned the kettle on. Vin and Grace sat in the window seat, side by side, watching a mother bird feed her young. He watched for a moment, as Vin's features softened, watching nature at work. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, not be 'growed-up enough'. When the whistle sounded, he poured two mugs of cocoa and carried them to the table. He settled into his seat, once again attempted to drink his much needed coffee, when the child, who was perched on Vin's lap, whispered loudly to him.
"Miss Emily wants to know if he has a bellyache. Is that why his eyes is all twisted up like that?"
"Could be," the blue-eyed mischief-maker nodded nodded, "I heard tell that's how he got his name!" he chuckled bravely.
"Vin, so help me God," Chris warned as Tanner's shoulders began to shake and he hid his laughter behind his hand.
"Mommy!" she shrieked, throwing herself off Vin's lap and running across the room. She dragged the startled woman across the room, her voice high with euphoric excitement. "Look what I found, his name is Vin and his Mommy and Daddy are in heaven. He likes chocolate and Spongebob Squarepants. He's awful pretty, can I keep him!"
That burst of pure adolation brought Chris his first smile of the day. Vin blushing helped that along. Right behind the smiling, but embarrassed Caitlin, was the tired Doctor. Chris's smile deepened, when he saw Vin's eyes widen and his mouth drop. He could almost feel the Texan's heart racing.
"You're catchin' flies there, Tanner," he joked, kicking Vin's foot.
"Huh!" Vin blinked. "Aw, hell, I'm sorry, I didn't mean t'stare, Ma'am."
"That's okay, Vin," Brie sat down next to him, resting a hand on his forehead. "Your flushed..."
"You noticed that too?" Chris teased, raising a smug eyebrow at his struggling friend, who glared at him. "Looks like you got quite a fever going there, Vin."
"Shut up, Chris!" Vin hissed, swallowed hard and tried not to stare at the lovely face just inches from his own. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Short, dark hair feathered in a perfect cut, large, almond shaped turquoise eyes and perfect white teeth peeking through coral lips.
"Your pulse is racing," She noted, "After you eat something, I want to examine you again."
"Again?" Vin croaked, eyes darting sideways.
"I'm Doctor Gabrielle Marquette," she stood up and took the coffee the other woman offered. "This is my best friend, Caitlin McKenna. You've already met her daughter Grace. We live here, my office is where you stayed last night. You passed out in the street. You were in shock and your blood sugar was dangerously low."
"I'm sorry," Vin hushed, dropping his warm face.
"Uh, Honey, why don't you take your hot cocoa and we'll go get dressed, okay?" Cait offered, knowing Vin was not comfortable.
"No, I wanna stay here!" she pouted.
"We'll come back down and help Aunt Brie make pancakes. Right now, she has to talk to Mister Tanner and his friend Mister Larabee."
"That's not his name," she protested on the way up the stairs, "It's Mister Grizzly, Vin said so. He talks funny... it makes my ears tickle. So can I keep him?"
"Your modesty is intact," Brie gave his hand a pat, "Chris got your wet clothes off and settled you in. I monitored you vitals signs until they leveled out." She glanced at the pensive blond, wisely leaving out the rest.
"What's goin' on?" Vin demanded, seeing the exchange.
"You had one of them dreams again, Vin, you were talking in French." Chris said quietly.
"Shit!" Vin slumped, wrapping both arms around his chest and rocking. He closed his eyes and a flash of a forest, water and evil laughter entered his mind. Words filtered in, his lips moved repeating them.
"...remember the deceiver... eye of the deceiver... protect the bloodline... protect her..."
"Vin, what's..."
"Shh!" Brie waved off Chris, who was now at his friend's side. He squatted down, watching the lips moving. "He's remembering, that's good, it means he's fighting back."
"Anything Vin?" Chris asked, when the eyes finally opened.
"Woods... water... a man... two men... laughin' at me... hurtin' me... bad..." he paused, cocked his head. "...a voice... warnin' me...beware ... of... the... deceiver... remember his face... protect her.."
"Who?"
"I can't..." then Vin's face went slack and his eyes rose to Brie's, as the face reappeared. "Yer friend's... she's the one I'm supposed t'protect. I don't understand any o'this..." he whispered, let out a long shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes. He felt two hands, strong ones, on his shoulders. Chris didn't say a word, but the firm massage spoke volumes. "...sorry... Miss... Doctor... uh... fer bringin' all o'this trouble on yer doorstep."
"It's Brie or Gabrielle and don't be, I was glad to help."
"I wanna go home, Chris," Vin asked, raising his bruised eyes to his brother's.
That hurt, more than words could say, but Chris remained firm, "Yeah, I know Vin, but... there's... we can't right now..." He scratched his neck, wondering how to explain.
"Why?" Vin demanded,anger rising, "Ya ain't the one whose head is all twisted up with nightmares... yer not the one speakin' another language... I don't wanna do this no more..." He sighed, sipped the chocolate and let the warmth ride down into his tight belly. "Did I say anythin'?"
"I couldn't understand you, but the Doc could." He paused and sat next to Vin, studying the troubled blue eyes. He felt every bit of the younger man's fear and needed to reassure him. "Whatever happens, Vin, we'll get through it together, you got my word." He waited several seconds until the long haired man's head bobbed and he continued, "Vin, do you remember Sara's locket?"
"Locket?" Vin puzzled, "Uh... that heart shaped one... in the weddin' picture on yer desk? It's got letters wrote on it?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed.
"It's Lily's right?" He asked of the charming elderly woman.
"It was given to her by her real parents, before she was adopted. Last night, I saw it... one just like it... right down to the inscription."
"Where?" Vin was confused and getting dizzy.
"Here," Caitlin supplied, walking closer.
Vin looked up and saw the difference. Her hair was combed and when he saw her face he gasped, shaking his head. "Ya look just like... Chris, she looks... like... Sara..."
"Yeah," Chris winced, biting his swollen lip. "It turns out, Lily had a twin sister. They each got a locket. Caitlin is her granddaughter, like Sara was Lily's." He touched Vin's wrist then, gathering his full attention. "Vin, last night, when you had the dream, you spoke to Brie, told her a name... you said you were Philippe Dubonnet. The twins, were his with Isabella, she was his wife."
"The ghost from the hotel? Damn!" Vin whispered, blinking as images appeared.
He reached out to touch the necklace and his fingers brushed against her throat. The warning came again, roaring in his ears. He cried out and put his hands on his ears, before sliding out of the chair and onto his knees. The words back... protect her... protect her... murderer... murderer. His face appeared again, black hair, black eyes and a scar. Then another face appeared, one that seemed too familiar. Long dark curls, sapphire eyes, strong square chin and a proud heart. Then he felt an almost peaceful strength fill him. His breathing regulated and he shivered a little.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked, trying to get at Vin, past Brie and Cait, who flanked him.
"I won't let him hurt ya..." Vin said in an almost tracelike voice, taking Cait's hand and staring into her eyes. "I give ya m'word... yer safe. I know his face... the eye of the deceiver. I think he killed Sara, Chris... I seen him... some other fella too... with...reddish hair... in a silver car... blowed up..."
"Oh my God!" Cait pulled away, shaking all over. "Max... how could he know?"
"First things first, you're still my patient," Brie took command, helping him stand. "You need food, before you crash again. Then we'll talk."
Grace was in the living room watching cartoons. The adults were in the kitchen, eating. They filled Vin in on all the details from the night before. It was during his second stack of pancakes, when Vin's fork froze halfway to his mouth. He placed it on the table and turned to Chris.
"Dubonnet?" He asked, watching the blond head rise. "Did ya say... Dubonnet?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed, "Do you know a Philippe Dubonnet?"
"No," he furrowed his brows, thinking hard, then looked hard into the green eyes, "Chris, my Ma's maiden name was Dubonnet. That's gotta mean somethin', don't it?"
"What do you know about her?" Cait's voice rose in anticipation.
"Nothin'," Vin shrugged, scratching his neck, "She died when I was five... uh... I seen her name on m'birth certificate. I recall... my Pa tellin' me... her pa died in Viet Nam..." he turned to Chris then, "...a chopper crash in '65 I think, name was... Peter Dubonnet. But I don't know anythin' else. It ain't much, I'm sorry," he apologized, seeing the hope rise in the pretty widow's eyes.
"It might be, Vin, in the right hands," Chris raised an eyebrow and saw Vin's eyes widen.
"Ya think he could find somethin'?"
"I think it's worth a shot!" the leader said, "Can I use the phone again?"
"Sure," Brie nodded, tapping Vin's plate, "Finish!"
"Yes, Ma'am!" he grinned boyishly, flushing slightly as her hand touched his.
In between the rogue's colorful desciption of sending a young lovely to 'another plane of pleasure', the phone in the quiet ATF office rang. "You are so full of shit, Buck!" J.D. Dunne hollered to his best friend, who was engaging them in a tall tale. "Unless she was unconscious, why would Miss Universe look at you?"
"That's professional," Chris grimaced on the other end. "I leave for ten days and you forget how to answer the phone. Somehow, I think 'ATF, Dunne speaking' has a more pleasant ring to it."
"Sorry, Chris!" the youth gulped, "How's Vin? Buck told us he passed out last night."
"He's fine," Chris cut in, "Listen carefully J.D. and then get them magic fingers of yours working," he noted of the computer whiz and information and records bloodhound.
Meanwhile, across town, Nigel Bates was alone in what once was André Moreau's study. Now the office for the Sauville House, he was getting the catering list together for a garden party. His cell phone rang and he turned away from the menus before him.
"Yes?"
"Bates, you alone?" Geoff Trent asked and got an affirmative reply. "That guy you told me keeps wandering in the garden at night? The one the gardener found unconscious? The one that the maid claimed saw Isabella's ghost?"
"Mister Tanner, Vin Tanner, he and a friend are staying in what was Isabella's bedroom. The night watchman saw him running loose out there last week, deep in the garden, speaking French."
"The other man, the friend staying with him, is his name Larabee?"
"Yes, they're from Denver." He replied, "I told you the time had come, the vision she had was right. That Old woman trusted me and led him right into our hands," he noted of Jessanie Broussard.
"I think, my friend, our prayers have been answered. I think the dearly departed Isabella has shown Tanner where her journal is hidden. I need that book, Nigel, my fortune is within those pages."
"What do we do now?"
"You follow him, then tonight, we'll take Mister Tanner for a long ride in the country. I know a place where we can have a nice, intimate chat." He smiled evilly and laughed, "real private... somewhere where no one will hear his screams."
"How?" Bates asked, "and what about the blond? He sticks to him like glue..."
"Him we don't need, he's expendable. I think he'll make a nice snack for an old alligator I know out that way... a midnight snack!"
"I'll be in touch," Nigel paused, "This is going to cost you, they're ATF agents. Two Fed's disappear and folks ask a lot of questions."
"Two visitors unfamiliar with the bayou got lost and their car went off a bridge. When we get through with Tanner, we'll toss what's left into the swamp too."
"You okay, Trent?" Dominic Novelli asked the grinning detective who was practically drooling onto his desk.
"Fine, Captain, never better!" He nearly sang, already counting all those zero's behind his future bank account and feeling the supple flesh of Cait McKenna beneath his body. Oh, life was sweet!
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