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.
Josiah grimaced in the bathroom, when a slow parade of curses floated through the air. He turned off the hot water and dried his hands, then began to smile. It wasn't just the colorful usage, as only Vin Tanner could muster, it was that the heated words were accented by a series of sneezes. In a cruel twist of fate, the ailing man, with no use of either arm, had acquired a cold.
"Sometimes I wonder about your sense of humor," the preacher eyed the tiled ceiling in the bathroom and shook his head.
"...some fuckin' hospital... lyin' helpless... get jumped by a pack o'onry germs... dammit!" Vin sneezed again, sending another mess down his chin. "Hell, take yer time, 'siah, might as well wait until I'm drowned in snots."
"Sorry, Brother, duty called."
"Don't hurry on my account," Vin snapped, before his shoulders jumped and a powerful sneeze sent a previous hidden gas pocket out to freedom.
"Nice horn, Vin, you wanna test your lights too?"
"Shut the fuck up, Larabee and quit laughin'..." Vin's eyes were tearing from the sneezing and he could only see a dark blur in the doorway, with a shock of blond hair. "...ya got a twisted sense o' humor..." He wiggled irately as both his friends applied wet towels to take away the mess on his face. "...get yer hands away from me... don't know where they been..."
"Ungrateful jackass..." Larabee persisted, dropping the cloth in the trash, before cleaning the cannula and replacing it. "I could be sleeping now, you know. I'm still recovering..." he baited, watching the hot eyes flashing.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with m'teeth," Vin growled, "Ya wag that hand again, Larabee, I'll put ya in a pinkie fuckin' splint!"
"Nice, Vin," Chris wrinkled his nose. He turned to Josiah, who was sipping coffee in the bedside chair. "Josiah, shouldn't the fuckin' come before the pinkie? How would you diagram that in a sentence?"
"I do believe that's grammatically incorrect," the older man noted, watching Vin's eyes twitch. Before he could react, Chris's hand moved, catching the phlegm cloud.
"That's my sharpshooter!' the blond teased. "You finished?" He kept his hand in place.
"How the fuck should I know?" the irritated patient huffed, "Open a winda... it's like a fuckin' inferno in here..."
"That's cause you're working up a lather with all that cursing." The leader frowned, nodding for Josiah to get a cold cloth from the bathroom. "They don't have windows in here, Vin." He took the cloth and wiped the scarlett face. "Settle down, you have a busy morning ahead."
"...time is it?" Vin wheezed.
"Ten minutes after seven," Chris knew the darting blue eyes were fearful. "You'll be fine. It'll be over before you know it."
"...got a cast... don't need no damn operation..." Vin persisted.
"Vin," Josiah caught the troubled blue eyes. "That surgeon was very thorough when he explained your break. The wrist bones need to be realigned. They'll put pins in there to hold them in place until they heal."
"...that part I remember..." the Texan huffed, taking his gaze to the other side of the bed. "Ya sure he's dead?"
"They're all dead." Chris replied, inwardly recoiling at the brief look of horror in the Texan's eyes. Vin had been reliving his nightmare daily.
"...thought he's tryin' t'help... lifted m'hand up..." he noted of the broken wrist.
"Don't Vin, it's all over now..." Chris pressed, seeing the anxiety rising. "Bates had a dozen holes in him."
"...ain't good enough..."
"Mister Tanner?"
Chris and Josiah both looked up when a nurse came in the room. Chris continued to look at the door, but laid a hand on the worried man's shoulder.
"Hi, I'm Julie. I'm gonna give you something to help you relax. " She injected the sedative. "Your operation is at eight a.m. Escort is on their way to take you up. You won't feel a thing." She reassured, seeing the tension on his face.
"Thanks," Chris said.
"Do you have any questions?"
"...anesthesia don't agree with me... jes' so's ya know... have a bucket ready..." Vin managed, shutting his eyes.
"One of you will be here with him?" She asked, seeing the blond nod. "Good, he'll be confused and disoriented for awhile.
"Oh, we're used to that, Ma'am," Josiah smiled, as Chris jumped in.
"He was born disoriented."
"Shut the hell up... both... o'ya..." Vin wheezed, as his body started to relax.
He was vaguely aware of Chris talking to him, before he felt a tug on his shoulder. Then the bed moved and he faded away.
Josiah waited until Vin was in the elevator, before turning back to the room. Chris was at the winodw, his features hostile. He knew where the blond's head was and he felt the same rage. Vin had suffered cruelly and his tormentors had quick deaths.
"Come on, Boss, let's get some breakfast," he suggested.
The coffee shop was down the street and busy on a workday. They sat in a booth in the back. Josiah ordered the #2 special, French Toast, sausage and bacon. Chris got a Western Omelet, no potatoes. The brooding leader was on his second cup of coffee, when the preacher updated him.
"They're taking his chest tube out this afternoon."
"What?" Chris drew his head up. "I don't know about that... I've been there, it hurts like hell. Jesus, what else can they do to him?"
"Chris, they didn't do this..."
"Does he know?"
"Yeah, they told last night, right after his breathing exercises. Once they pull it out, he'll go to a regular room. He should be settled in there by dinner." He paused as the waitress put down two large glasses of orange juice. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know, Josiah." He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. "I met some tough customers in my day." He paused, his keen green eyes studying the hospital down the street. "...and then there's Vin Tanner."
"But?" the elder man prompted.
"But this is an awful lot to bear, even for a Tanner." Chris commented, taking a gulp of juice. "I'll tell you what, he's holding up great. You wouldn't want to be arount me with two busted up arms... Jesus.."
Josiah laughed and shook his gray head. "That would be one day after I took my vacation."
"He's got a helluva long road ahead..."
"He won't travelin' alone, Chris. He'll get tired of us kicking his ass."
"...scrawny ass..." Chris corrected with a sad smile. "...and what about the wounds that scalpels and stitches can't fix?"
"He'll get counseling." He paused, as the waitress set their plates down. "Thanks," he nodded. "Extra napkins?"
"Sure," she replied, also providing maple syrup and ketchup. "Coffee?"
"We're good," Josiah replied.
"More over, Chris, he'll have you. When he's ready, you're the voice he'll hear clearest. You might wear out your boots..." he teased of a potential 'ass-kicking'. "That boy can get stubborn..."
"I think Brie will help... she's good for him." Chris decided of the strong woman who had to return to New Orleans. "By Friday when she gets back, I'll be ready to shoot him!"
"Not to worry," Sanchez winked, "Buck's got a plan..."
"Why does that scare me?" Chris's brow drew together.and he slathered butter on his toasted bagel. "What kind of plan?"
"I'm not at liberty to disclose the details..." Josiah managed with a straight face..
"Why, does he have incriminating pictures of you?"
"You might not be old enough to hear them..." Sanchez teased of the plan and heard Chris groan.
For a brief moment, he wondered if he was dead. No, death doesn't hurt like this. His head had an axe in the back of it and his chest hurt. The congestive lungs were doing a wicked dance, keeping in step with his rocky stomach. He tried to hold on... but that only produced worse gagging. He'd been sick before, but this feeling went far beyond nauseous.
"Yuh cut that out, chil'!"
Unable to open his eyes, he parted his lips to protest and the bile spewed.
"That's bettah, don't make any sense holdin' that mess inside... come on, now, I know yuh ain't done..."
Again he tried to peel even one eye open and instead, his mouth went to work. The vomiting produced intense pain in his healing chest and ribs. So much so, tears ran down his face and he fought to breathe.
"Cut that out, now!"
Someone held his neck and head up, cleaning him off and instructing him to breathe. Weakly, he got his eyes half open and a saw a blurry dark brown face.
"...Nate..."
"Hmmphh!" The voice sassed. "I been called a lot of things in my day, chil', but old Maisie ain't never been mistook for no man. Open then pretty blue eyes now... come on..."
Vin blinked and licked his dry lips, watching the fuzzy face come clearer. A nurse... with dark skin and silver-streaked dark hair. Kind eyes... deep eyes... a mother's eyes. He relaxed at her touch, letting himself breathe.
"That's better..."
"...dead..." Vin croaked, hoping for relief.
"Not hardly," the thirty-five year veteran tossed back, picking up a spoon of ice. "Yuh too pretty tah die..." she smiled at the ailing young man. "Here, I got some ice... easy now... I gotcha..."
"...thanks..." Vin whispered, sagging against the ample bosom. It took his fuzzy brain a moment to realize where his head was. "...sorry Ma'am..." he flushed, coughed, sneezed and gagged.
"Lord, chil' yuh're a mess..." She frowned, catching the flying excess. "and don't be Ma'amin' me! It ain't like we're strangers, Son... yuh ain't got nuthin' t'hide." She saw him flush again and smiled, wiping his face with a cool cloth. "Yuh sure do blush pretty..."
He cast a blurry eye on the pins extending from the cast on his wrist. Then he took his eyes to the spot where his right arm should be. It was bound tightly to his chest. Frustration set in and he scowled.
"Aw, hell... trussed up like a fu... damn turkey..."
"Yuh ain't plump enough tah be a fit turkey," she teased, easing another spoonful of ice into his mouth."That scrawny white behind of yuhrs needs fattenin' up... " She saw the smile and the weak laugh followed. The blue eyes met her dark ones over a sad smile.
"...ain't... hardly... scrawny..." Vin coughed. "...need glas...ses..."
"I need glasses!" She moved the basin near his mouth and waited. "A blind man couldda seen I ain't nuthin' called Nate!" She felt him tense up and ran ahand around him ,holding him up. "Get rid of it, Vin Honey, Old Maisie's on the job... Come on..." she coached as more vomit came up. She waited past the dry heaves, the rinsing and cries of pain that produced tears. She cleaned him up and wiped a cold cloth over his face.
"...sorry..." Vin managed, shivering. "...s'cold..."
"I told yuh, yuh ain't got enough fat on them bones... hold on..." she headed for the blankets, then noticed his gown was soiled. Clucking her tongue, she grabbed a new one and a basin. After filling it with warm soapy water, she peeled the old gown off. Two blue eyes bolted half open and a defiant chin jutted out. She felt him trying to pull away. "Yuh ain't goin' a place, chil', yuh best jes' settle down. I raised five boys and cleaned up thousands more in this here ward over the years. Yuh ain't got nuthin Old Maisie hasn't seen before. Now quit fussin' and let me do ma job." Once the clean gown was secured, she pulled the blanket up and held his head up again, giving him more ice.
"...thanks... Ma'am... no... no... ain't right..." He slurred, trying to correct himself. "Ma...mie...?"
"Mammy!" She began to laugh, shaking her head. "Landsakes, chil' yuh're givin' ma belly a workout tonight. Maisie," She corrected and saw him blush. "No call fuhr that, yuh ain't got nuthin' ta be ashamed of." She paused, tugging the blanket up. "Well, almost nuthin'..."
"Aw, hell..." Vin whispered, feeling his face flush again and hearing her laugh. The cold cloth followed, wiping his parched skin. The ice tasted like liquid gold and he began to relax. Her deep voice, kind hands and gentle touch were the right medicine.
Chris was dozing in the chair, when the phone rang. He sat up, glanced at the empty bed and frowned. By the time the third ring went through his pounding head like a buzzsaw, he was not happy.
"Hello!"
"Chris?"
"Brie?" Chris winced, rubbing his temples, "Sorry, I dozed off and the phone startled me. He's not back yet."
"I know, I spoke with the surgeon," the doctor said, clearly not happy with being in New Orleans. "He should be up soon..."
"He got sick, didn't he?"
"...that and his blood pressure dropped. They're going to pull his chest tube later..."
"I'm not leaving." He answered the worry in her voice.
"Thanks," she sighed, knowing with Chris Larabee by his side, she'd be able to concentrate on her own patients. "How is he, Chris?"
"Onry," he grinned, "cursing up a storm, in between sneezes. I"m surprised you didn't hear him down there. He always gets cranky when he's sick. We're used to it..."
"I have to go," She waved to the nurse frantically waving at her. "I'll call later. Give him my love..."
"Will do Doc, but I think you're probably a better kisser!" He teased.
"Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Hey, that's sounds like the kind that comes with a hug."
"Count on it," she smiled, "I'll talk to you, later."
Chris was in the bathroom, taking some Advil, when the door opened. He swallowed the pill, rinsed his face with icy water and toweled off. He ducked back into the room, just as the orderlies got Vin back onto his bed. The Texan looked awful. He was a ghastly cross between green and gray. His eyes were half-mast and he was wheezing heavily, making strange moan-like souinds. Pins stuck out of the area where the bones were realligned. The other arm was still tightly bound to his chest. At least his urine was yellow again, now that the bruised kidneys were healing. He nodded to the orderly and waited for the duty nurse to complete hooking up his IV's and oxygen.
"We gave him something for his stomach, it should settle down soon."
"Thanks," Chris nodded to the nurse.
"Call me if you need anything." She noted, peering down at the green patient. "How you doing, Mister Tanner."
"...peachy..." Vin hissed, sneezed and snarled. "...leave me be!" He wiggled, trying to pry his face from what he knew wasn't a nurse. He began to gag then, but had nothing left to produce. The painful cries dissolved into a salty parade on his face. He let his eyes slid shut and surrendered, working to breathe took all his energy.
Chris ignored the muffled curses and continued his job. Finally, Vin slumped in his arms and he laid him back. The bed was raised up, so the now sleeping patient was sitting up. He took a seat, picked up a can of soda and turned the television on. A half-hour later, he was involved in an old episode of The Streets of San Francisco, when a sneeze landed on his hand.
"...seen enough..." Vin snapped at the face looking at him.
"Not yet," Chris stood, washed his hands and then cleaned up the patient, who tried to fight. "Don't fuck around Vin, I got a headache." He finished, then got three spoons of ice into the parched man.
"...that bad..." Vin whispered of the concerned face hovering above.
"You look like dirty snow on astroturf," he decided of the graying -green color. He saw the eyes drift too the can of cola. Vin's favorite beverage. "No way... if you behave, later on I can give you broth."
"Ain't I the lucky one," Vin settled back, lifting his tongue for more ice. Nothing happened. "Dammit t'hell, Chris!"
"What?" The blond feigned innocence.
"Where's m'fuckin' ice?"
"You didn't ask pretty," he smirked, watching steam coming from the tracker's ears.
"Ya jes' wait 'til I get one o'these arms freed up... I'll show ya pretty!" He sassed, resting his head. The short conversation took his breath away and he panted heavily, gulping air. A cold spoon nudged his lips, but he didn't part them. "...changed m'mind..." he said haughtily, tilting his nose in the air. He waited through the snorted smirk, until a full fledged Larabee laugh was born. He smiled then, seeing the worry leave the face finally. Then he stuck his tongue out and waited. But the blond sat down.
"...could be I changed my mind..." Chris deadpanned, wincing at the long stream of colorful words.
Finally, Vin fell asleep. Several times the body thrashed and the head tossed on the pillow. The brows furrowed and the eyes darted frantically under pale lids. Chris stood and waited, then rested a hand on the side of the damp neck. His strong fingers curled around the tense flesh and he lowered his face.
"I got your back, Cowboy." He waited and the breathing slowed, the tension disappeared and the features went slack again. Satisfied, he sat down and picked up his book. He looked up again, when Nathan entered, handing him a brown bag. He knew before he opened it, what was inside.
"Remind me to give you an on-the-spot award," the blond teased of the monetary rewards given for outstanding work. He popped the lid on the won ton soup and inhaled the aroma. "You're worth your weight in gold, my man."
"Thanks," Nathan moved to the bed, resting a hand on Vin's brow. "He's warm."
"Nice shade of green, too." Chris slurped, devouring the tasty won-ton on the spoon. He popped the top on a 20 oz bottle of ice tea and pulled out a napkin.
"His fever's up... it's almost a hundred and one. They give him anything?"
"Tylenol and something for his stomach. He stopped pukin' finally. I told the nurse to order him some broth. They're takin' his tube out later."
Nathan nodded, studied Vin's face and examined the surgical sight, before leaving to speak with the nurse. When he returned, the soup was done and the ice tea was nearly drained. Chris looked rough and had to heal himself.
"You've been here all day, Chris," he eyed the approaching hour of 2 p.m. "Go get some sleep." Although the head didn't move, the tight green eyes slid to the chest tube. "I won't let them take it out, until you get back. Go on..." He watched the blond stand and stretch, gaze at the sleeping body and then extend a hand.
"Thanks, Nathan. If he gets worse..."
"I know ... I know..." He shook his head. "Go!"
Hot. It was too hot. He must have put too many covers on. He tried and tried, but he couldn't find his hands. Have to get the blankets off. He furrowed his brows and bit his lip, but only got pain in return. He mumbled and tossed his head, panting and gasping for air. Then he panicked.
"Chris!"
"Easy now!" Nathan rested his hand against the fever-slicked face and waited for the eyes to focus. "Welcome back," he slid a healthy spoonful of ice into the parted lips and heard the moan of pleasure. Three more followed, before he used a cold cloth to wipe the hot face. "You almost look like a caucasian again, " he noted of the returning color.
"Thanks, Nathan..." Vin panted. "More..."
"Sure," he coached, getting more ice into the ill man. "If you keep this down, we'll try some water. They got your broth at the nurses station."
"....'kay..." Vin mumbled, chomping on his ice. "Don't feel s'good..."
"You have a fever... how's your stomach?"
"...Titanicked...." he said of the sinking feeling. He heard the laugh and managed to smile. He might not have a lot of money in the bank, but he was rich in friends. "...others go home?"
"J.D. and Ezra were needed. Mike Ryan's group is short a couple men." He noted of their brother team in Denver. THe phone rang and he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Nathan? It's Brie, how's Vin?"
"He's right here, hold on." He held the phone to the wet ear. "It's Gabrielle."
"Hey..." Vin whispered, closed his eyes and captured her voice.
"How you doing, Babe?"
"...was feelin' poorly... 'til I heard yer voice... like angel's singing... I miss ya... Brielle..."
"I miss you too, Sugar. I'll be back there by Friday night. You'll be sick of seeing me by Monday morning."
"...never happen... miss yer touch... need... t'feel.."
"I know, Cowboy, me too!" she whispered, still tasting his kisses. "I love you."
"...love ya... too..." Vin managed, before dissolving into a sneezing/coughing duel.
"Nathan?" Brie waited, until the medic came on. "How is he?"
"Surgery went good. The set him with pins. His fever's up a bit, but sometimes that happens after surgery. He's stomach finally settled down. Chris just left, he was exhausted," Jackson updated, juggling the phone against his head, while cleaning up the squirming Texan. "Vin, if you don't settle down , I'm gonna harness your ungrateful butt."
She laughed, on the other end, at Vin's colorful reply. "You tell him that was naughty and I'll have to punish him." She smiled, "I have to go, I'll call tonight."
"Okay," Nate hung the phone up. "She heard you cussin', she's gonna punish your sorry ass."
"Yeah?" Vin perked up. "Damn, how long 'til Friday?"
The hours passed, the broth went down easy and was followed up by custard and juice. He felt stronger and slept easy. A stong string of sneezes and coughing brought his eyes open. Through the blurry, wet eyes, he saw a mustache, that matched the booming voice.
"You're all wet, Vin!" Buck announced, cleaning up the messy face. "You must have made kindergarten hell for your teachers. Quit moving around!" He finished, "Ouch!" he yelped, shaking his hand. "You bit me!"
"Hah... I wasn't hardly tryin'... consider yerself warned..." Vin wheezed, eyeing the dark room.
"He's in the bathroom." The rogue answered the silent question.
"He okay, Buck?"
He smiled at then, a warm, genuine Wilmington special. Despite his own malady, Vin was worried about Chris.
"He's a little worn, but tolerable."
"You make me sound like a damn recliner chair!" Chris grunted, stalking the room. He stopped at the bedrail, giving a good long stare. "You look human again."
"Good thing one of us does," Vin countered, not missing the pale face and pain-rimmed eyes. "Chris, if yer feelin' poorly... ya didn't hafta..."
"..and miss that fresh mouth of yours?" Chris winked, "I'm okay. Here," he held out a cold soda and watched the drooling start. "You promise to be good boy and keep your uncivil tongue under control?"
"Quit fuckin' around and gimme my damn soda!"
"He's alright!" Buck grinned, "I'll tell the nurse."
"Okay," Chris held the soda out and waited. "Not too fast..." He pulled it back and smiled at he belch. "eight point six, a new record," he teased of the earthquake potential. "You ready?"
"Yeah, it's fast right?"
"Hurts like hell, but it's real quick. Just take a good breath and he'll pull it out," Chris relayed of removal of the chest tube. He heard the door open and snaked his hand on the side of Vin's neck. He gave a good tug and held that worried gaze, until the fear left the blue eyes. "I'll be right outside."
Vin watched the lean body until it left and then stared at the door. He couldn't even make a fist, so he felt the mummy effect returning. His breathing picked up and the doctor turned from the tray he was preparing.
"Mister Tanner, I'm Doctor Weissman, do you remember me?"
"Yeah, ya plucked m' other tube last night."
"That's right," He lifted the gown and removed the surgical tape holding the chest tube in place. Luckily, this young man had no chest hair. He lifted a piece of occlusive gauze and eyed the nervous young man. "I want you to take a deep breath. Then I'll pull the tube out very quickly. There are special sutures around the opening. I'll pull them, like closing a purse. Then I'll cover it with a clean dressing. Ready?"
"...g'head..." Vin nodded, then took a deep breath. "God!" He clenched as pain exploded in his side. "Jesus Christ!"
"It's done," the doctor secured the bandage. "Your vital signs are up and we'll be moving you now to a new room, out of ICU. Of course, we won't know for some time about your arm."
"It's fine," Vin hissed, as the fire continued in his side. "They put pins in there and ..."
"No, I'm sorry, not your wrist, your broken scapula. You lost a lot of blood and they had to clamp the subclavian artery..." he paused seeing the clouds of confusion swirling. "To save your life, they had to cut off circulation in your right arm. We won't know... there's a possibility that you might not regain full use..."
"Aw, shit!" Vin's eyes went wide, he studied every crack in the ceiling.
"I'm sorry, Mister Tanner, I thought you knew." The face remained void of emotion, except for the eyes, which were housing molten fear. "Your friends are outside, I'll get them."
"This is 'tween us, Doc, understand?" Vin warned. Chris looked like hell and he didn't want any extra guilt on the recovering man's frame.
"Very well," the doctor left.
"Vin?" Chris made his way to the bed, wincing at the tight line where lips should be He wiped the wet face, recalling all too well his own chest tube removal a few years back. "I've been there, Cowboy, you take all the time you need. Thirsty?" he offered the soda, but the wet head shook in denial.
The doctor's words felt like shards of glass being rammed into his tender skull. He dozed off, but the aftershocks rippled through his healing body. No use... a crippled sharpshooter. No job. A desk jockey. Chained to an eternal stack of papers and filing.
"...no fuckin' way..."
"What?" Chris asked, sitting forward. Vin had been silent for nearly a half hour "You say something?"
"No," Vin whispered.
"You want something to drink, Slick?" Buck offered, exchaning a worried glance with Chris. There was something unsettling about the fine features on the Texan's face.
"Somethin' wrong with yer brains that ya can't remember m'name!" Vin snarled, eyes flashing. "This ain't a fuckin' train station!" He shouted, feeling the walls closing in. That excitement brought coughing, gagging and a mouthful of vomit. His face was hot and his eyes stinging. He struggled and fought the helping hands. Was that pity in their eyes? Did the doctors tell them something he didn't know? Was he destined to be a cripple? The fever worked on his frazzled brain and he exploded, as the walls came closer.
"Get out!" He screamed. "Get the fuck out! Leave me alone!"
"Stop it!" Chris gripped the wet face on both sides, watching the lava-filled eyes burn into his own, before they rolled back in his head. "He's out."
"What the hell was that?" Buck wondered of the explosion.
"He's had a rough day, Buck, he's entitled to blow up. Go on, I'm staying. Make sure the nurse is updated .I'll use the extra bed."
"Okay, you need anything?" Buck paused, worried about both men.
"No," Chris wiped Vin's hot face and then called out, "But bring coffee and shit in the morning, okay?"
"I'm real good with 'and shit'..." Buck winked, easing out of the room.
"Don't hide from me, Vin," Chris whispered of the troubled sleep he saw forming. He knew something transpired between the time they left the room and the return. Having the tube pulled was a hellish experience, but not enough to cause this. Whatever his troubled friend was hiding, he'd find out. That was one fight Vin Tanner would lose.
The face loomed above his own, the dark eyes wide and glistening with malice. His own eyes took in the blade, watching it make arc's in the air. It was hot... too hot... sweat rolled down his face and into his eyes. Pain... everywhere... every inch of his tortured flesh throbbed. He tried to escape, but found he couldn't move at all. The knife came lower, aiming for his heart. The voodun's evil laughter scorched his ears.
"NOOOOO!"
"Shit!" Chris left the bed in a hurry, not bothering to shake the cobwebs from his skull. He blinked and adjusted his eyes to the darkness, then switched on the low light above the patient's head. "Jesus," he exclaimed, seeing the sharpshooter's wide-eyed frantic stare. He waved a hand over them and go no reply. The shallow breath came in pants and the lower lip trembled.
"Hey, wake up... come on Vin, it's a dream..." he tried, gently tapping the sweaty face. "You're burning up..." He pushed the call button, alerting the nurses. Then the panting increased and the blues flared in fear.
"Nooooo! Chris, where the hell are ya! Bates' is... he's... ahhhhhh!" Vin blinked and flinched at the palm that slapped his face. He didn't move, letting his eyes adjust to the room. Two nurses came in, and through a fog he heard Chris updating them. He shut his eyes, as the dream faded away and his living nightmare returned. The ghastly image of his arm poised with a gun, then unable to shoot came up. He bit his lip, allowing the nurses to tend to him. He felt the damp sheet peeled away and a pair of cold clothes trying to squelch the fevered flesh. He was gently turned and his back was bathed. He heard the hands snapping the damp sheets from one half of the bed. His head lolled as he was turned again, carefully, and the other half was stripped. Finally, bathed and feeling cooler, he was resting on clean sheets. He smelled the delicate scent of flowers and citrus. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw a pale cocoa face through blurry eyes. He heart picked up... how could this be?
"Brielle?..." he choked, chest heaving.
"No, it's Simone, Mister Tanner," the pretty nurse soothed, wiping the tangled locks from his brow. "But I'm sure sorry." She consoled, familiar with the lovely woman he was seeking. "Doctor Marquette is one lucky lady. Would you like some water?" She waited and the head nodded once. She allowed the bed to rise a bit, then placed the straw on his lip. "Not to fast... good... good..." she coached, seeing the water leaving the cup. "Hold on," She placed two Tylenols on his tongue. "That will help with your fever and let you get some rest. Okay?" Again the head nodded and she saw the eyes close.
"Thanks," Chris sighed, raking a hand throught his damp hair. Finally they were alone. He approached the bed. "Vin, if you..." He frowned, when the dark, wet, curly head turned away from him, to face the empty side of the room. "Fine."
Vin flinched at the tone of the voice, but didn't move. He heard the sound of the tense body hitting the other bed. He felt the wrestling match begin again. His anger rose at the two immobile arms. He didn't want pity; he didn't want to see looks of sympathy in their eyes. Hell, this emotional rollar coaster left him dizzy. He didn't know what he wanted. He drifted off to sleep, a dark, dreamless place. His coughing picked up, sending waves of pain through his chest. Combined with the messy sneezing, he again had to rely on others to tend to him. He cursed weakly, tossing his wet head and the helping hands descended.
Chris tossed the tissues away and wiped Vin's face. He ignored the curses and rage simmering in the half-mast blue eyes. He was too tired to care. He got little sleep and his arm was throbbing. He shuffled to the bathroom, washing his hands and then his face. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, cringing at the face in the mirror. The voice was welcomed, as was the strong aroma of coffee that came with it.
"Warn a guy, will you, Chris!" Buck chuckled, eyeing the bleary face and hair sticking up. "You get any sleep?"
"No... well not really. Between nightmares and that temper of his..." He exited the bathroom, passing the bed and going to the chair. He popped the top on the coffee and sipped carefully.
"He still all worked up?" Buck asked, handing Chris a ham and egg sandwich on an overized English Muffin. "Eat!"
"Thanks," He took a bit and chewed, not glancing at the bed. "He's hiding from me, Buck. What the hell happened when that tube came out?"
"Chris, he's been through Hell..." Buck stood vigil by the bed, eyeing the battered body. "Maybe that tube coming out just reminded him of how close he came to losing it all. You know he holds too much shit inside. You said yourself you wouldn't want to be mummied up like that..."
"Yeah, maybe..." He yawned, almost losing the end of his sandwich. "Man, I'm beat."
"Well, take your tired ass home then," Buck settled in the chair, pulling a Sports Illustrated from a gym bag. "The new shift nurses are coming on duty and I don't want you scaring them off."
"You gonna be okay?" Chris hedged, pulling his weary body from the chair. He recalled how hostile the Texan was the night before to the mustached agent.
"Hell, that boy can curse all he wants," Buck grinned. "Might do him good to work out some of them demons. Besides, he can't swing and he can shoot... So he's stuck with me." He paused, seeing the worried face. "Chris, go home. Go on..."
While Chris Larabee got his much deserved rest, Buck Wilmington contemplated. Vin was cold and distant, not offering one word of conversation. Buck cut the food up on the breakfast tray and stuck the spoon in Vin's swollen fingers. He didn't say anything, but saw the startled blue eyes shift. The cup had a handle and therefore, clumsily, the sniper was able to feed himself. He nodded to the nurse in the doorway and strode to the bed.
"What?" Vin snapped, shoving Buck's offensive hand away. "Get the hell away. Don't want ya squattin' in m'room. Take yer interferin' ass outta here. Leave me be!"
"Sorry, Vin, you got no choice." He waited for the nurse, who flanked the other side. He forced Vin to sit up and swung his legs around. "Come on, we'll go to the bathroom while Cheri gets your therapy set up."
"We? I don't need yer help... m'pee stick is fine." Vin wiggled, then panicked when he was standing and his knees buckled. "Buck!"
"I gotcha..." He supported the weak legs through the process. By the time he got Vin back into the room and to the chair, they both were sweating. Vin never said a word and Buck didn't push him. He knew the frustration on being helpless and not being able to take care of the most basic needs. The nurse wheeled a tray in front of Vin, with a plastic contraption that had a hose.
"Vin, this is an incentive spriometer, it's gonna help your lungs get better. I need you to blow in this, ten times an hour."
"Thanks, Cheri," Buck nodded, glaring at the silent patient. He waited a few minutes and then lifted the hose. "You sulking isn't gonna get them lungs better. So quit acting like a child and get it done."
"Fuck off!" Vin snarled, feeling the walls closing in. He hated being helpless and the fear of being crippled was adding to his fevered fear. "Don't want no speedometer..." He went to shove the plastic device away with his cast and two hands caught him.
"Now you listen to me," Buck's voice was low and lethal and his eyes were dangerous. "First of all, there's a lady in this room and you watch that mouth of yours. Second, it's not her fault that a bunch of maniacs hurt you. She has a job to do and don't you disrespect her that way. And lastly, you're not five years old, Vin, so quit throwin' tantrums." He moved one hand, lifting the hose and propelling it towards the ungrateful lips. "Now you open that smart mouth of yours and use some of that energy to blow in this thing."
"Go t'hell!" Vin spouted, as the hose was shoved in his mouth. He bit down on the tube. He was mad at the world and blew the thing until a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"That's fine, Vin." Cheri took the device away to clean it. "The doctor wants you to sit up for while, it's good for .lung expansion." She got a blanket from the bed and tucked it around his legs. "We'll put you back to bed in a little while."
He didn't say a word, while she took his vital signs. He heard her tell Buck his fever was down a little. He head the 'push fluids' order and closed his eyes. It seemed like only a minute passed, when the tube appeared again.
"Ah, hell..." Vin snarled, it hurt to blow in that thing. He saw Buck's face looming overhead and peeked around him. No nurse. "Stick that fuckin' thing up yer ass. Ya ever think maybe everyone don't want yer grinnin' face hoverin' around? Yer always stickin' yer nose where it ain't needed. I'm tired... leave me be..." His sentence was cut short when the hose went in his mouth.
"The lady said ten, get blowing!" Buck ordered, watching Vin vent his anger on the hose. By the number ten, Vin was worn out. Sweat poured down the face and his body was trembling. "Come on..." he said quietly, moving the table and hauling the weak man up.
Vin didn't have any air to protest. He let Buck get him to the bed and fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow. He heard buzzing sounds as nurses and a doctor came and went, after poking at him. He snapped out twice, not bothering to open his eyes. He heard Buck's voice again and wondered why he was still there. He saw a straw appear and turned away, but it nuzzled his lips. He was thirsty and reluctantly drank. That brought on a coughing fit and famliar watch band appeared with a tissue.
"Spit that shit out, Vin!"
"...ris..." he wheezed, seeing a blond head. He noticed it was twilight outside. "...time..."
"Seven o'clock..." He saw the eyes roaming the room. "He left at five when I got here." He updated of Buck. "You hungry?" He saw the head dip and picked up the buzzer. He updated the nurse, who contacted dietary and got Vin's tray sent up. It was pasta and meatsauce, which the hungry tracker was able to eat with a spoon. Two dixie cups of ice cream were harder, since the ice cream was solid. Instead of spooning it to the injured man, Chris wisely let it melt a little. Then watched while Vin clumsily manuevered the spoon. Half of it endedup on his chin and chest, but he did it himself. Chris took the tray away and replaced it with a bowl of soapy water. He wrung the rag out and handed it to Vin, who seemed grateful. His own rumbling stomach reminded him it was time to eat. He put the hose and breathing device on Vin's tray.
"I'm gonna go get some soup in the cafeteria. You blow in that ten times." He left without turning back.
Vin waited a minute, listening to the empty room. Chris trusted him to use it without being there. He was on his honor. He thought on Buck's words earlier, about it not being their fault. No, it wasn't but why did he feel like a prisoner in his own skin. He had a large itch he couldn't scratch. He sighed and used his broken arm to lift the hose. He got to five and the hose fell out, the device slid sideways.
"Dammit..." He tried to pick it up and it fell off the table, hitting his lap. "Shit..." He looked up as the door opened. "It skittered away... I done five... it fell..." he defended, knowing it looked like he threw it.
"I know," Chris took his soup to the vacant chair and placed it on the table. He righted the hose, stuck it in Vin's mouth and nodded.
How did he know? Vin thought, as number seven went out of his lungs. It was getting easier with each treatment. While he worked his lungs, his eyes stayed on the profile of his best friend. Chris never made eye contact. He ate his soup, a half sandwich and drained a coke. He put the trash away and washed his hands. He flipped the television on and found an old western. Vin felt uncomfortable, he knew Chris was upset. He was thirsty and eyed the pitcher.
"...s'water in there..."
"No," Chris replied, "You want a soda?" He stood and moved the tray over, offering a hand. Vin nodded and moved his body, letting the other man lift him. Chris managed to get Vin back in bed and covered him up. He saw something more than fatigue in the blue eyes.
"What's wrong Vin?"
"I..." Vin croaked, thinking of the crippled arm. He bit his lip and laid his head back. "... can't Chris..."
"Don't hide from me, Vin," Chris warned quietly, leaving the room.
He stopped at the nurses station, waiting for one of them to look up.
"Is there a soda machine near here?"
"No, but there are some in the doctor's lounge."
"He's thirsty," Chris said of the patient. "I thought I'd get him a coke."
"Help yourself!" Cheri nodded, she was going off duty and exiting the room.
Chris entered the lounge and found the refrigerator. He got a straw and some napkins, just as the door shut. He saw the surgeon who'd taken Vin's tube out and nodded.
"Hello again, Chris isn't it?" Sam Weissman asked.
"Yeah, Doc, how are you."
"Tired," He smiled, "How's Mister Tanner. I didn't mean to upset him so."
Chris's brows drew together and he cocked his head.
"What did you do to him?" He snapped, his voice edgy. "He was fine until you took that tube out. Now he's a mess... surly... snapping at everyone."
"You have to ask him." The doctor said. "I advised him on his condition... I wasn't aware he wasn't informed of all the information."
"Information?" Chris mused, as he made his way back to Vin's room. Then, as his free hand hit the door, the words hit his chest. "Shit!" He hissed. The only information Vin didn't know... was about his right arm. That's what was eating away at him. Knowing how Tanner took things, he probably only heard what he wanted. He felt he was doomed. A crippled sharpshooter. He pushed the door open and popped the soda.
"Thanks," Vin said, allowing Chris to get the cold can into his awkward grasp. He let it rest on his chest, able to sip from it.
"I spoke with the head nurse on my way in, Vin. The doctor said you might get out of here next week. Once your lungs get better and your vitals even out. You're gonna need some extenstive therapy on the arm," he nodded tothe bound right side. "I spoke with Brie and she's setting something up at the rehab in her hospital. You can stay with her until you're through it." He paused as the derisive raspberry that sailed through the air. He ignored it and the disgruntled face that matched. "Josiah and Nathan are going back to Denver tomorrow afternoon. They'll be here in the morning. I'm heading out..." he saw the head spin and smiled. "Not yet, Cowboy. You can't lose me that fast. I'm on sick leave for ten more days. You'll be in safe hands with Brie, she's one terrific lady."
"Yeah." Vin agreed, heart sinking. His eyes shifted to the arm again and then met Chris's green gaze. His voice caught and his blood ran cold. One look at the pale green depths told him... Chris knew. "Why didn't ya tell me?"
"Nothing to tell," Chris deadpanned, inwardly wincing at the fear trembling in the weak voice. He adjusted the soda can so it didn't tip on the Texan's chest.
"I don't call bein' a cripple nuthin!" Vin snapped.
"The only thing crippled is that thick skull of yours!" Larabee shot back. "Yes, they had to cut off circulation in that arm to save your life. Worst case scenrio, you're still here,Vin! Don' be so fuckin' selfish. You only heard what you wanted to here- selective listening. The day they..." He moved to the bed and grabbed the chin, forcing the head turning to look back. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He roared, not hiding his anger. "The day they operated on you, you damn near died. We didn't know for three days if you'd survive. The doctor told us there was a 'chance' that you might not recover full use of that arm. There's just as good a chance that you will. So get your head out of your ass, Tanner. You got people who care about you treadin' on eggshells. Is that what you want. Grace was supposed to come visit you today." That got his attention and he saw remorse appear in the sky eyes. "I told Caitlin to wait a few more days. I didn't want the kid to see you like that. Don't you think she had nightmares. She's only five, Vin. She's been through Hell too. She had to pull a trigger and shoot a man. Could you do that at five? The only thing she's talked about... is how you saved her." Disgusted and worn out, Chris strode to the window, watching the traffic outside
"... m'sorry..."Vin rasped after a pregnant pause of five full minutes. He saw the jacket in Chris's hands and his heart fell. "Ya leavin'..."
"Up to you." Chris replied, not looking, and trying not to be affected by the wounded voice. "I'm not spending another night like last night. Your call."
"My whole life is that badge, Chris. Ya know what it means t'me. Comin' t'Denver... findin' ya... the guys... I never had a real home before. Then he... said... m'arm... might not... I don't want that feelin' took away."
"Vin," Chris made his way back to the bed,still holding his jacket. He peered intently into those lost eyes and waited. "Your arm is only a part of you. The important part is inside. You'll never lose us, Vin. We're family. I know you like being out in the field... ridin' a desk isn't your idea of a job. If it comes to that, we're explore every option. I'll help you, all the guys will. But you can't give up, not before the game's over."
"That's easy fer ya t'say," the injured man shot back, "Ya got a fuckin' wall full o'degrees. I can't compete out there..."
"Being a success in life doesn't mean you need a PhD, Vin. I could sit in front of a notebook for three weeks and not be able to produce the beautiful poems that roll off your tongue without effort. I could take a camera for a trip around Colorado and not come up with one photo that can match that art that you create." He noted in pride of the outstanding collection the tracker had. He took up photography as a hobby, and was exceptionally skilled. "You're great with kids... and animals. You're an expert tracker... Shit, Vin you got more talent in that shaggy head of yours..."
"It ain't the same," Vin interjected, "At the end of a bust, when them scuzzbuckets get carted off t'jail. Damn, that feels good! I done somethin' right... keepin' the streets safe... it's what's important t'me..."
"I know that, Vin, and there's nobody finer carrying a badge," he saw the startled eyes lock onto his. "Look, let's make a deal, okay? Until we know one way or another about your arm, you can this 'mopey-whining,sorry-assed' attitude, okay? You're gonna your balls in gear to kick this therapy. You set one goal, to get healthy again. Let your body and soul heal, Cowboy. Don't bury yourself while you're still breathing. Deal?"
"Yeah..." Vin managed, wondering why he deserved a friend so fine as this man. "Ya think the little one's still up?"
"Sure," Chris smiled, dialing the phone. "Cait? No, he's okay now. Is Grace there? Here,"
"Hello?" Vin said, straining to hold the phone. Lifting his arm that high hurt his ribcage and he shook his head. "Chris..."
"Okay," the leader took the phone, holding it to Vin's ear.
"Hey, Sugar..." Vin's face melted when he heard the tiny voice.
"Hi, Vin. Are you all better yet? I miss you. The adults don't like Spongebob and the cartoons. I'm gonna make you lots of chocolate chip cookies. We can dunk 'em in chocolate milk. Are you coming home soon?"
"I miss ya, Sugar," Vin managed, his eyes welling. He thought of what those monsters did to her and how gutsy she was. "Ya was real brave out there, Grace. I'm proud o'ya. Ya saved Chris's life and didn't get scared. Ya done good..."
"I was scared..."
"I know, Sugar, I was too. But that all done, now. Ya got yer Ma and yer family t'care fer ya... ya give 'em all hugs fer me, Okay?"
"Okay, I been drawin' pictures for you. Wanna see 'em?"
"Sure, ya bring 'em over tomorrow."
"Can we have pizza and chocolate milk?"
"Sure!" Vin said, shaking his head. His voice was trembling and he didn't want to go on. "I gotta go, Sugar, goodnight."
"Goodnight, Vin. I love you."
"Love..." Vin paused, swallowing hard. "...ya too, Sugar."
While Chris watched his movie, Vin drifted off to sleep. They'd given him pain killers, his ribcage and arm were really bothing him. The lung injury was painful and he needed to sleep.
He was hot... and lost... and in pain. He stumbled through the darkness, seeking salvation. His tortured soul and heart were bogged down by his physical incapacities. He was so hot. He needed relief. He needed water. He needed to find the light.
While Chris slept, Vin Tanner tossed restlessly in the bed. His face was slick with fever and his breath came in pants. Then he felt a wonderful cold air surround him. He felt a soft hand on his brow and moaned in relief. He forced his eyes open, hearing a soft voice, a woman's voice.
"...Brielle.." he croaked, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. The only light came from the bathroom, a low bulb that gave the room a dull glow. She wasn't alone and he blinked his eyes several times. She was blurry... and in white. Then he saw the face cleared. Pale skin... not Brielle's. Light hair falling to her shoulders and an long gown.
"...who... are... ya..." he managed, his head pounding. He saw the man then, and shivered. It was like looking at his own face, but with long dark curling hair. He tried to reach out, but his cast was heavy and thumped against the sheet.
"We have come to say 'Merci'," Philippe Dubonnet issued, finally reunited with his lost love.
"You were brave, Vin Tanner," Isabella said, stroking his hair, "You kept my angel alive. We can rest now. The journey is over."
"...didn't do nuthin'... but... get... caught..." Vin insisted, his heavy eyes closing. "...hurts..."
"Sleep, brave Vin," she said, kissing his forehead and stroking his bound right side. "Heal... and live..."
"...yer kin..." Vin realized.
"Oui," Philippe said, "and you wear the name well, farewell, cousin Vin." He moved his hand over the casted one. "For your son... and his after..."
"...tryin'..." Vin mumbled, feeling his fingers moving. "...can't..."
"Vin?" Chris blinked, eyeing the empty room. He saw the tracker's lips moving and then saw him staring out of the other side of the bed. Dreaming? He sat up and then inhaled the air. "Roses..." He murmured, shivering at the cold air. Then he saw Vin's damp curls lifted on their own, as invisible fingers stroked his brow. Then he knew who Vin was talking too. He saw a hazy pair of figures then, and met her eyes briefly. He nodded once and saw her smile, tapping her heart. Her eyes went to the bed and he smiled.
"I got his back." He promised, as the pair disappeared. His own fatigue set in and he fell back asleep.
Buck was whistling when he got in the room. He set the large bag down on the tray and eyed the patient. He looked 100% better than the night before. A hand to the cool brow confirmed what he saw.
"Fever broke during the night. He's breathing better too. Seems his lungs got better." Chris relayed.
"Hey, you look almost human!" Buck marvled.
"I brought clothes with me,' The leader relayed. "Hot shower can work wonders." He'd risen early and taken a hot shower, letting the pulsating water revive his aching muscles. Clean clothes and a good nights sleep made him feel better.
"Looks like you both slept good."
"Man, did I have a weird dream," Chris confessed of his hazy recollection.
They ate at the table, watching the nurse taking Vin's vital signs.
"You should have cleaned this off before you gave it to him," she insisted, clucking her tongue as the messy swollen fingers contained in plaster.
"What's wrong?" Buck eyed the sharpshooter's broken wrist, wincing at the pins.
"Look at all that dirt!" She complained. "You men never think about the linens and the cleaning ..." Her voice trailed off, as she headed for the door. "I'll get clean sheets..."
"Buck?" Chris rose, eyeing his friend who was at the bedrail.
"I didn't give him that!" Wilmington pried the swollen fingers, getting a groan and a furrowed face from the sleeping patient. He examined it, then gave it to Chris. "Hey, that dirt looks like..."
"It's from the cabin," Chris whispered, his heart hammering. It wasn't a dream. "This is Philippe's watch. It's in one of Sara's sketches in the book Lily has." He popped the antique silver watch open and read the inscription. "It was his father's... remember, Philippe had a twin... Pierre..."
"Whose great-grandson is lying in this bed," Buck shook his head. "How... where did it come from?" He gently cleaned Vin's fingers, the Texan never stirred.
"...the mists of time..." Chris said, sighing and put the watch back. "Look at that..." He marveled, Vin's fingers locking around it and a smile playing on his lips. "That's a gift..."
"Yeah, I can see that... who gave it to him..."
"Philippe... last night..."
"I think you're the one who has a fever," Buck lamented, "He's dead Chris."
"Buck, after the things I've seen on this trip..." he moved away, "They won't be back. They came to say goodbye. She touched him... I saw his hair moving. She took his pain with her..."
"This is too creepy for me," Buck decided, taking a chair. "You gonna wait on Josiah and Nathan? Caitlin is dropping them off. They're gonna have a short visit with Vin and then head to New Orleans. They have to pack and get to the airport by five. Hey, Brie's coming in tomorrow night, that ought to make him smile."
"Speaking of which," Chris's eyes narrowed. "What's this plan I heard about?"
"That's on a need to know basis, Pard, and you don't need to know..." Buck winked, patting the sleeping man's shoulder. "I got plans for this boy..."
"You're right, what I don't know can't hurt me." Chris stood. "I think I'll get some air. I'll be back."
It was a beautiful sunny day. The sky was an incredible shade of blue. Soft, puffy white clouds dotted the air. The scent of the rushing river fill him and he smiled. Nearby, a large bounty waited on a checked blanket. Food of every variety in a magnificent picnic, accented with wine. He raised his face to the sun and tossed the frisbee to the waiting woman. He raised his arm and flexed every nimble finger with dexterity. He was healed. His arm was better than ever. His cry of exaltation brought the stunning woman to his side. He opened his arms and enveloped her, kissing hard and deep. He let his gentle touch run over her body. He groaned and pulled her down on the soft grass. They explored each other, kissing, tasting and touching.
Buck tossed the magazine aside when the groan went airborne. He smiled, seeing the contented smile on the pale face. Another moan and the mouth began to work.
"Sweet dreams," Buck nodded, "It's about time." He took the lid off the breakfast tray and watched the face move again. The eyes twitched, the brows moved and a tongue snuck out between the parted lips.
Vin took a deep breath, as the aroma invaded his tortured nostils. One eye peeled open, spotting steam rising.
"...hot cakes... sausage..." he stammered, "aw, hell... get me up..." he blinked and saw the watch in his hand. Memories came back, sharp and vivid. It wasn't a dream. Philippe and Isabella had visited him. It was a beautiful watch and he heard the man's words emerge from the back of his mind. "Fer yer boy... and his after..."
"What?" Buck said. "We found it in your hand this morning. Chris said that Isabella and her husband..."
"Yeah, I know," Vin whispered. "they come t'say thanks and goodbye..."
Then he felt his face flush with shame. He peeked up and only saw the warm light of genuine affection in the dark blue eyes. Hovering under that mustache was a wide smile, a very real one. His abusive and hurtful comments slapped him in the face.. His harsh words invaded his memory. Despite his mean streak, this man still came and stayed by his side. He turned, casting a soft, winning smile.
"Ya look like shit Bucklin..."
Buck smiled, leaned over the bed and ruffled the damp, greasy hair. "Fuck your sorry ass to Texas and back, Tanner."
"...gimme a hand?"
"Thought you'd never ask, Vin." Buck said, then saw the fingers on the watch. Vin looked at him and handed it over without hesitation.
"You sure?" Buck asked, knowing how valuable it was.
"Yer holdin' it ain't ya?" Vin shot back, eyes full. He heard echoes of his sharp words again and felt glad for the priviledge of knowing Buck. "Reckon until m'wings get free," he noted of both arms. "I won't have much use fer it. Ya keep it safe fer me?"
"It'll be an honor, Vin." He said with conviction, fingering the fine piece, "You know, I bet Caitlin knows a bunch of good jewelers in New Orleans. I'll get it cleaned up for you."
"Ya ain't gotta go t'any trouble, Buck."
"I said so, didn't I?" He slid the watch into his pocket.
"Thanks Bucklin," Vin offered, for far more than the meal. He poured every bit of emotion from deep within and sent it sailing through is blue windows "...fer everythin..."
"You're welcome." He baited, drinking in the shimmering eyes.
"...seems t'me ya fergot m'name...' Vin jutted his chin out and waited.
He smiled as he cut the pancakes, sausage, slathered ketchup on the meat and buttered the croissant. He popped a juice open and stuck a straw in. "There..." He handed Vin a spoon and raised the bed higher. "You best eat them pancakes before they get cold," Buck winked, "Slick..."
Happy, Vin smiled and clumsily ate his meal. He didn't care that half of the pancakes ended up on his sheet. He didn't care that the tea tasted like cat piss. He felt a healing spirit inside him. He knew Isabella and Philippe played a part in that. He didn't know how and he didn't care. Suddenly, the air was sweeter and the sky bluer. After he got cleaned up and did his exercises, he drifted into a peaceful sleep — a very healing one.
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