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.
Time did not heal all wounds. They lied.
He sighed and shifted, eyeing the foaming lips in the mirror. He let the minty toothpaste burn a crater in his mouth. The steam rose, clouding the accuser's eyes. The last few days had been awkward at best. Prior to the ball, Ryan drove him to therapy, on the way to dropping Grace at kindergarten. He spent his morning doing rehab and talking to the therapists. He walked to a preselected cafe or restaurant, where he met Gabrielle for lunch and stolen kisses. She drove him home and continued to the hospital. He spent the afternoons with Grace. They shared books, cartoons and snacks. On days with no therapy, they had breakfast in bed, feeding each other and reveling in the wonder of new love. They saw the musuems and sites around town, ate decandent lunches and kissed in the shadows of blushing magnolias. But this week, everything changed.
He moved a cloth, wiping a spot off the mirror, so he could see the accuser. Now, everything was different. He saw the hurt in her eyes, when he pulled away from her touch. He told himself, that as time went by, it would be easier. Four days and it still hurt... hurt like hell. The days in between therapy were endless. He was bored. They went off to their careers, their peers and coworkers. He had four walls to keep him company. He tired so easily and scorned the doctor's words. The injuries were severe and would require several weeks until his energy level returned. He'd fall asleep and wake to darkness, having missed another day. The same four walls laughed at him, and everyday that mocking tone grew louder.
The nights were the worst, when she came in after work. It would be just after midnight and she'd be fresh from the shower. He could smell the jasmine and musky scent before she sat on the bed. He'd pretend to be asleep, his face a stone over a pounding heart. Every fiber would threathen to explode when she'd brush her fingers through his hair or stroke his face. It was for the best. She'd move on... find someone in her peer group. The ringing phone interrupted his lecture.
"...coward..." he spat a mouthful of mint at the accuser's blue eyes, rinsed once and left the steamy bathroom. He shuffled to the phone, sitting down easily on the bed. He knew who is was, it was ten o'clock, right on time. He yawned as the phone his his ear.
"...h...h...e..y..." he blinked, shaking the drowsies away.
"Hard day at the mines?" Chris waited, but there was no snappy retort. "Vin?"
"Huh?"
"It's not polite to yawn in someone's face."
"Yer face ain't squatted here..." Vin shot back, then the tone of the voice hit his aching heart. "...wish t'hell it were..."
Chris winced at that, gripping his beer a little tighter, his thumb peeling the damp label. The voice was aching and small, the wisps of wistful want scorched his ear. He'd spoken to Brie earlier, her call had surprised him. She was an intelligent, level-headed , pratical physician. She wasn't the type to panic. She was in love and her heart was broken. He wasn't eating right, sleeping way too much and hiding in the cottage. The shades were always drawn and he'd stopped sharing meals with them. He shied away from her touch.
"I'm losing him, Chris..." she'd whispered painfully.
"He's depressed, Brie, the doctor's warned us about this. I've been there..." he recalled of a number of job related injuries. "it sucks... everybody else is working... busy... you feel useless... you think it must by six p.m and it's only noon. The days are endless..." he tried. "Vin turtles up when he's shook up or hurt. It's his way. He'll be okay... Brie. Once this case breaks, I'll fly down and talk to him."
"Looks like tomorrow is a big day for both of us..." Chris broke the silence. "What time's the cast coming off?"
"Nine. Ya headed out?" Vin asked, knowing that the team was split up in pairs. They were canvasing three different areas of Colorado, zeroing in on the wealthy owner of a string of gun shops. He was suspected of shipping illegal weapons out of the country, as part of a larger network. Previous attempts to bring him down resulting in two undercover agents being executed, in separate incidents six months apart. Ezra was undercover as a buyer, Chris was his partner and would be flying to Scottsdale, AZ, where Guy Beauchamp made his home.
"Flight's at seven... we're meeting Beauchamp at noon."
"When's the buy?"
"Not sure... Ezra said he's keeping it close to the vest." He heard another yawn.
"You okay, Cowboy?"
Vin thought hard for a full minute, wanting to unleash his fears but hesisted. Chris was going into a firefall and didn't need more burdens on his already weighted back. He would talk to him, but not when he had such an important job to do.
"Jest tired o' bein' tired,Chris... seems it ain't never gonna end... one big gray blur..."
"I know, Vin, I've been there... it's a bitch. I won't sugarcoat it... you're gonna have to suck it up and stick it out."
"Yeah..." Vin yawned again and his aching shoulder and chest began to argue. "Listen, Chris, my shoulder's bitin' me good. Tell Ezra t'keep his head down and ya watch yer back..."
"That's your job... and I'm holding it open for you."
Vin found his first true smile in four days. There between the scattering of words was a forceful clap on the back. It was the power of Chris Larabee's open hand and the trust in his eyes. He felt it as clear as if the man were next to him. It made a difference... he needed that faith tonight.
"Thanks, Cowboy."
Vin's cast came off and he got more exercises to do at home. Having his left hand back felt good. The therapist was encouraged by his shoulder and Vin kept that in his mind. It became the only focus for him and he pushed himself too hard. One day after a particularily hard workout, he met Brielle for lunch. She wanted to explore 'antique row', a string of pricey antique stores near the French Quarter. He had a nasty headache and his shoulder was killing him. He craved those painkillers on the bedstand.
Actually, she was hoping the change of pace would put some spark back in the stormy blue eyes. For the last week, he'd been sullen. The others told her she was worrying too much. They attributed his withdrawl to the painful therapy and the loss of his friends. He was lonesome... and bored. That was the reason he slept so much. But the shine was gone from his eyes and he seemed to avoid her. Also, they hadn't been intimate in nearly a week... since before the banquet. She didn't push the issue, he was so exhausted and in such pain, she felt guilty. Plus, she noticed the pain pills disappearing. The therapist told her it was normal for someone like Vin, who was used to being active, vital and on the go, to suffer a depression. He had nothing to occupy his time and he was away from all that was familiar. Perhaps that was it... maybe the depression was natural. But a nagging pain in her stomach told her different. She was losing him and had no idea why.
"Ah, my favorite doctor..."
"Hello, Henri!" She greeted the owner, an owlish man with large glasses. "How are you?"
"Very well, and you have never looked lovlier," he gushed, "You have a new beau, yes?" He saw her nod and then eyed the handsome young man with faded jeans, a faded denim shirt and worn leather jacket. He went right by the odd binding sling, zoning in on the wellshaped backside. "Ummmmm... delicious!"
"Henri, you're bad!" She laughed, "Anything new?"
"Perhaps... a pair of chairs from the Gaston estate. You read about his death?" he noted of the wealthy recluse.
"Yes," She nodded, then spotted the chairs. "Oh Henri, they're breathtaking..."
"Aren't they, though?" He swished, "Nineteenth century walnut..." he waved over the armchairs. "exquisite tapastry and cartouche shaped back," he waved again over the delicate rose fabric embroidered with cream and pale jade roses. "scrolled arms and did you see the legs?"
"Yes, cabriole..." She squatted down, examing every inch. "Vin , what do you think?"
The owner didn't cover his guffaw, as if the dusty cowboy would know silk purse from a sow's ear. His snort earned him a nasty glare from the blue-eyed honey. Oh, a temper, too... what a face. He moved away, fanning himself... dreaming naughty thoughts.
"They're real nice," Vin shrugged, his stomach growling. He hadn't eaten since early that morning and the therapy used that fuel up. It was now after one p.m. and he was getting dizzy. He went to sit down and heard a loud hiss.
"No!" She pulled him away. "you can't sit on them!"
"Why not?" he was annoyed, "They're chairs, ain't they?"
"They're an investment... " She waved to Henri, who glided over, raking his eyes on her man. She heard Vin's chuff and hid a smile. "How much for the pair?"
"Well... they are one of kind... in mint condition... I could let them go for $4000."
"Dollars!" Vin choked, eyes popping. "Fer chairs ya can't use... Yer nuts! He's robbin' ya blind!"
"Wait outside, Vin." She was annoyed now, she didn't like his tone. She made her usual arrangements with Henri for delivery of the exquisite collector's items. He was leaning on a car, his face a cross between anger and boredom.
"Don't do that to me again," she warned. "I love antiques. I've been collecting them for years, especially nineteenth century France. I am not a greenhorn and I've known that man for years. That's a very fair price for those chairs and I was lucky to get them. He saved them for two days so I could see them. It's my money, Vin."
"Yeah, ain't it though," he scoffed. "We eatin' 'er not?"
"Charming," she strode off, heading for a cafe at the end of the block. She ordered a seafood quiche and a ice tea. He got a large bowl of gumbo and a sandwich. He barely spoke, only vocalizing to ask for condiments. She put her fork down, that inner voice nagging.
"What's wrong , Vin?"
"I was hungry. Hell, I ate about seven this mornin'... 'scuse me fer bein' cranky. Ya ever try concentratin' when somebody's pullin' yer bones around?" He shoved a buttered piece of bread into his mouth, eyes hot.
"I wasn't talking about the therapy and you know it. You're irritable when you're awake, which is rare or distant. You're sullen and moody, you've withdrawn. I've noticed you're not eating as much and taking far too many pills..." she flinched when the mug of water slammed down.
"That's m'business... like them fussy chair o'yers..."
"No, you're wrong," She reached out to take his hand and he pulled back, as if scorched. "You don't touch me anymore... am I that repulsive?"
For several pregnant seconds, there was no movement. Then his head dropped and his eyes began to burn. It was working and it hurt more than he figured. He wanted her to forget him. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, not touching her, pulling back and retreating. But it had to be done. He wasn't good enough. She'd never get ahead in her field... he heard them say so. She deserved the best ...and that wasn't wearing scuffed up boots.
"I'm talking to you, I'd like an answer," she pressed.
"Gabrielle?"
Her head turned at the voice and her smile was genuine.
"Cliff!"
"Great!" Vin mumbled to himself. "Super fuckin' Cliffman..."
"How are you?" She gushed, rising to embrace him. "You look great? How was New York?"
"Exciting for awhile, but it's not home. You've never been more beautiful." He kissed her cheek and admired the dazzling body and smile.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Cliff," she turned to the table, where the sullen face was eyeing the newcomer with a bored expression. "This is Vin Tanner. Vin, this is my former fiance. Doctor Clifford Montgomery."
"It's nice to meet you," the tall, distinguished, darkskinned doctor smiled and extended his left hand.
Vin nodded and shook, wincing at the grip. Six foot four, close cropped dark hair over distinguished features set in smooth dark skin. The beige suite cost more than his whole wardrobe. This was her world... the antiques, clothes, wine... without thought to expense. He felt like a old beat up chevy competing with a shiny, new Lexus.
"Vin's cast isn't off that long..." She apologized for the nasty look he was giving.
"Sorry, man, I didn't know," Cliff shifted, wondering what this beautiful woman saw in the snarling, scuffy hippie.
"I'm goin' back," Vin turned to her. "I'm worn and m'shoulder's killin' me. Nice t'meet ya..." he turned away.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch. Please don't leave." the newcomer offered.
"Ya didn't bust up anythin', Doc, I was done. Go on and visit fer a spell..." he pushed past and kept going. He didn't stop until he was halfway to her house. He knew he acted like a jerk, and he didn't care. He didn't care about anything. How could they understand? They had their jobs to go to each day. He slept most of his away. Her with her fancy chairs and old millionaire boyfriends. His eyes burned and he fought to control the passion that overcame him with every thought of her. The faces from the party came back... the words pierced his heart. Hayseed... Jethro... hillbilly... nobody... Nobody...
"Not good enough..." he slurred, as he drowned his sorrows in his painkillers and lite beer.
He slept through dinner and slept in the next morning. He didn't bother washing or shaving and left a trail of candy wrappers, an empty cookie bag and a pile of soda adn beer cans on the floor. A pizza box with two congealed slices was lying haphazardly. The pillows from the sofa were on the floor. He stumbled to the bathroom and threw up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His arm, shoulder and back were throbbing and his head had a hot jackhammer pounding into it. He leaned against the doorjamb, shutting his eyes against the agony. The pills... where were they? He tossed more articles on the floor, desperate and greedy for relief. A red, pulsating tiger was eating his brain. He couldn't reason or think beyond that. He didn't hear the door open.
"Vin?"
He was trying to fight the red beast eating his head and find his pills at the same time. He didn't hear the second call or the third. He turned sharply, as the tug on his robe.
"What!" He screamed, eyeing air.
"I'm sorry..." Grace whispered, clutching Miss Emily. "You always watch cartoons with me... after school. Are you sick?" her eyes were like saucers as she looked at the unshaven, dirty face and greasy hair. His eyes were scrunchy and he smelled like the broken sewer at school.
"Yeah, I'm sick and I ain't got time fer any stupid cartoons!" He snarled, blinking at the red haze in front of his eyes. He moved past the stiff body and continued his search.
"...lose somethin'?" She squeaked, not understanding what she'd done to make him mad at her. She padded over, behind him. "Maybe I can help, Vin?"
"Ya can help by gettin' the hell outta here!" He growled, lost in a frenzied state. He didn't see anything but the thick red haze and only heard the roar of the tiger as it sank claws into his tender skull. "Get out... Get out!"
Finally, he found them... and took two, chasing it down with flat rootbear in a dirty mug. He stumbled to the disheveled bed and fell across it. He didn't see the terror in the amethyst eyes. He didn't feel the tiny hand pat his cheek. He didn't see her tears.
"I'm sorry... Vin..."
Ryan came through the door and frowned. His handsome features scanned the empty foyer. Usually, a flying, laughing bundle of child landed in his arms. He peered in the living room and saw her sitting quietly on the sofa. The television wasn't on. She was clutching her doll tightly.
"Buttons?" He moved in closer, sitting down. "Hey..what's wrong?" he caught the stiff body and held on tight. He brushed his lips against her hair and felt her tiny heart beating too rapidly. "Did you watch a scary movie by yourself?"
"No."
"Trouble at school?"
"No."
"Want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Want some milk?"
"No... a bug hug."
"Oh, honey," He rocked her, wrapping his arms tight, eyeing the wide eyes and seeing deep pain. "Are you sick?" He kissed her forehead, but detected no fever.
"No.'
He caught Caitlin's worried look from the foyer and questioned her with his eyes. She just shook her head and shrugged .Whatever was troubling Grace, she wasn't ready to share.
"Dinner's ready, Sweetie. Can you help me with the ice cubes?"
"Okay." She slid down and walked towards the kitchen, head dropped.
"What the hell happened?" Ryan demanded, not liking this one bit.
"I don't know. I came up from the basement,from doing some wash. She was sitting on the sofa. She hasn't moved in two hours."
"Did you call the school?"
"I picked her up, Ryan, she was fine."
"Something did that!" He nodded to the forlorn figure with the ice bucket. He saw the empty place at the table and frowned. "He's not eating again?"
"No... the door was locked. I looked in the window and... it's not pretty. He can't go on like this..."
"...it's my fault..." Her chest was so tight she could hardly get the words out. Her throat hurt and her eyes burned with tears. Her beloved Vin was sick and she'd made him mad.
"What's your fault, Honey?" Caitlin moved and crouched down to the child, playing with her spaghetti.
"...Vin's mad and... and... he... it's... he... hol...lered... at..at... at... m...m...e..."
"What!" Ryan bellowed, jumping up and hitting Caitlin's outstretched hand. The amethyst eyes flashed him a warning. He saw Grace jump and realized his shout scared her.
"Did you go see Vin after school?" Cait asked and the dark head bobbed. Tears fell slowly. "While Mommy was washing?" the worried woman pressed, again the head nodded.
"What happened next, Buttons?" Ryan stroked her glossy curls. He winced at the strangulated grip she had on Miss Emily.
"I... went... in... like... I... I... do... aft..er... school... he was... looking... for something... he was... yellin'... I ... asked... him... about... the... the... car...toons... and... and... he said... they... were... st..st...stu...pid... and I tried... to help... him... his eyes were funny... I did... I did..." she raised her wet eyes.
"I know you did, Sweetheart," Cait coached, rubbing her back. "Vin is sick, Honey, remember we explained that? Somedays his arm really hurts bad..."
"He... yelled at me... Get out!" she whispered... eyes like burnt violet saucers..."..he... took pills... and ... and... fell down... and ... I told... told... him... I was sorry..." she cast her mournful eyes at Ryan. "I did... I even... gave ... him... an..an..angel kiss... but... he didn't... he..." her face crumpled and her arms went up. "Vin..."
"Shhh!" Caitlin soothed, holding her and rocking. "I know it hurts... but you have to remember Vin isn't feeling good. He didn't mean what he said..."
"I'm gonna kill him!" Ryan shoved his livid frame from the table, then stopped when a tiny warrior screeched and threw her body on the door.
"No... you can't... you'll go to jail... you pwomised... you... you... said... you... would be... my daddy..." She stuck her heart out. "...and... maybe... Vin... my Vin... won't be sick... nomore... and he'll come back..."
"Grace, Uncle Ryan didn't mean that," Caitlin glared, causing him to flush. "Go back and try to eat some dinner. I want to talk to Uncle Ryan."
"Pwomise!" She eyed the tall man ,who nodded. "Swap spit?"
"Grace!" Ryan shook his head, patting her as she moved to the table.
"Sit down," Caitlin tried to pull his arm.
"No, you sit. Me and that..." he bit the word off. "Our guest are going to have a talk about manners... "
"Apparently, you have no mirrors in your house," She defied. "If I recall correctly, you took Johnnie Walker Red and Jack Daniels on a booze cruise all over world. We didn't know if you were alive or dead..." She saw the defeat in the blue eyes. "He's sick, Ryan. He's very depressed. ..."
"He's leaving!" A new voice declared, having witnessed the entired horrible episode.
"Brie!" Caitlin hugged her best friend, seeing the tears in her eyes. She felt the slim woman trembling in her arms. "She just caught him at a bad moment..."
"He could have hurt her... he's leaving. He wants to wallow in a pool of self pity... he can do it elsewhere. I won't watch that... I've tried talking to him for over a week..."
She moved past and out towards the cottage, Ryan on her heels. She unlocked the door and backed up, bowled over by the overpowering stench.
"My God!" Ryan recoiled, gingerly walking among the debris. He shook his head in disgust at the unshaven, filthy body sprawled on the bed. He saw the pills and picked up the bottle. "...he's using too many of these..."
"The pills didn't do this..." She stood with her arms crossed, eyeing the human wreck. "He's hiding something..."
"When did this start? The bad episodes and his odd behavior?" Ryan picked up Vin's black duffle bag and began filling it with the few clean clothes that remained. He moved to the bathroom, carefully selecting the scattered toiletries as she spoke.
"Uh.." she thought back. "the ball... he was shaken up... I thought it was stress and the crowd...'
"No, I heard something in his voice on the phone." He sighed, scratching his chin. "I'll call Chris..."
"He's not back yet... I'll leave a message on his voicemail. Where will you go?"
"Hotel." Ryan said, effortlessly lifting the unconscious man and taking him outside. He laid Vin across the back of the seats in the van. The duffle bag went on the row behind that. He took both of Brie's shoulders and gave a squeeze. "I'll sober him up and talk to him. You okay?"
"No," She turned away, unable to look at the man who broke her heart in a million pieces.
From a riverbed of thick, hot mud, he pulled his eyes open. Somebody had put his body into a blender and turned it on puree. He couldn't move. Every inch hurt and his shoulder was on fire. Horrid pains stabbed his stomach and guts. Eyes widened in panic, as the bile rose. He moaned in a scratchy voice, his lips stuck together. Somebody gently lifted him and held him over the side of a bed. He vomited until there was nothing left. Tears ran down his face and he coughed and sneezed. A wet towel appeared with commands to spit, blow and then a cup and 'drink.' Cool water soothed him. He fell back on the pillow and saw a dreamy vision of the most beautiful face on God's green earth. A wavered hand reached out... his delirious eyes yearned for her. Through a wall of agony with barbed wire tightning on his tender insides, his soft voice broke.
"Brielle... God... love ya... they won't hurt..ya... won't let 'em... protect... ya... m'sorry... won't hurt ya... no... more... protect..."
"What?" Ryan inquired, grabbing the wayward left hand and easing the now unconscious man back down. Frowning , he wrote down the cryptic clues and shook his head. It was after midnight and he was exhausted.
The stuperous man had not awaken during the journey. He'd remained unconscious when he'd been stripped, bathed and shaven. He hadn't stirred when the Irishman scrubbed vomit and mucus from the tangled long hair. Now, he looked like Vin again, except for the gaping wound inside, the one no one could see. He shut his eyes, stretching his long frame on the empty bed and fell asleep.
Vin blinked and opened his eyes. The tan ceiling caused a frown. Moving his head caused the jackhammer crew to begin work again. The stomach sharks renewed their frenzied movements as well. He swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. He turned his head and saw navy blue and burgundy in swirling patterns on a bedspread. His confused eyes went around the hotel room
Hotel room?
"...the hell..." he muttered, sitting up and reeling as his head and stomach demons were heaving pitchforks in mad glee. He saw Ryan sleeping and the digital readout of 4 a.m. on the clock. He shuffled to the bathroom and then while getting a drink, he saw his face. Clean shave... skin sallow but clean. Dark circles under the eyes... a pair of haunted eyes. He was wearing a clean sweatsuit as well. He saw on the toilet, keeping his confused blues on the man in the glass.
"What the hell happened?" he croaked, his foggy brain putting up searchlights. Images appeared, scattered and musty. A messy room... a bad smell... vomit and waste... food strewn... screaming and then nothing. The pain in his shoulder and head caused him to move. He moved quietly into the room and to the bag. His left hand went through the pockets... searching... desperately.
"They're not there."
His head jerked, catching the tall Irishman moving closer. One look in those steely hot blue eyes caused him to backpedal, his left arm moving over his immolized right one.
Ryan stopped, seeing the naked fear in the younger man's eyes. Panic and fear... rising quickly.
"There's a coffee shop across the street. I'll be right back." He moved to help the swaying man who backed up again, in fear. "I wouldn't waste the effort," his voice was flat. "Sit down... we're gonna talk."
"...nuthin' t'say..." Vin managed, sitting on the bed.
"The hell there isn't." Ryan roared, "Get your head up , when I'm talking to you. Is this how you repay people who open their homes and hearts to you? Trashing it... covering it with your own filth?"
"m'sorry..." Vin managed, fleeting images of the mad search for the pills in the cottage forming in technicolor.
"Sorry doesn't cut it!"
He lifted his eyes and saw something bordering on rage simmering in the tall man's eyes. He noted both fist curled into controlled clenches.
"You cut the heart out of a woman I care very deeply about. You cut it to ribbons... you bastard." He saw a brief flicker of pain, then the eyes went blank. "That's inexcusable. But when you terrorize a child..." he had to stop and keep his cool. He saw the panic return as the 'deer in the headlights' look roamed the room, searching for the past. "A little foggy? Let me refresh you!" He leaned over, inches from the stricken man's face. "That child loves you... adores you... worships the ground you walk on. She came home from school, looking to help a sick friend. You screamed at her... insulted her... broke her heart, you bastard."
"No..." Vin's voice was small and his heart hammered right through his chestwell. "I coudn't... please Ryan... yer makin'..." But he wasn't making it up. And seeing the simmering rage reminded him he was lucky that he was still in one piece. Then the worst image rose... a terrified pair of amethyst eyes hovering over him... and a tiny hand on his face. His voice screaming... raging... out of control. "Oh God... " He jumped up, barely making it to the bathroom. After he emptied what little was left in his stomach into the bowl, he sat on the floor, resting his head against the cold tiles and cried. He heard the door slam.
When Ryan returned, Vin was waiting, his black bag by his feet.
"There's a flight at 9... t'Denver. I can get a cab from here..."
"I don't care if you walk back," The angry man stated, "But you're not leaving until you apoligize to my fiancé, her best friend and the finest angel God put on this earth." He sat a large cup of tea and a muffin on the table. "Eat." He knew Vin had low blood sugar and didn't want him to pass out.
Vin didn't taste a thing. He ate the large muffin and drank the sweet tea. He shuffled to the car and watched the houses go by. They were outside when the car pulled up. The look on Brie's face sent a flaming arrow into his chest. Grace's face turned all his insides into ice and his heart shattered. They were full of terror. As he walked up the stone path, she backed up, ducking behind Caitlin. She hid from him... in fear. That twisted the barbed wire in his gut even tighter. His eyes glazed onto Brielles. What once were hot blue-green orbs of passion, were not aqua blocks of ice. He stopped several feet away.
"I come t'say... I'm..." He paused, swallowed hard and trying to hold on. "...s...sorry. There's no excuse fer what I done. Folks open there heart... home... t'ya... care fer ya when yer sick... tend t'ya... I... can't..." he lifted his face to Gabrielle's. "I'm sorry..."
"Why Vin?" She pleaded, the sight of his anguished eyes ripped through her. He started to speak, the lips parted, but didn't finish. She still felt the thrill those lips left when they touched hers. She moved towards him, resting a hand on his face and brushing the single tear away. "You're leaving?"
Not trusting his voice, he nodded mutely. Her touch burning him like a branding iron.
"...m'goin' t'the mountains... t'find..."
"What?" she pressed, confused and bruised.
"...peace..." He moved his left hand and cupped her chin. "I love ya... but... I can't..."
She turned away, running into the house as the tears rained down.
"Caitlin, I got no words... what I done..." His words were stopped when she placed her hand on his lips. She hugged him and whispered in his ear.
"Go home and heal, Vin. She'll be waiting. But don't break her heart again. Once your insides mend... and you're free of whatever demon is haunted you... you come back for her."
He took a shuddering breath, a non commital kind. He saw a tiny head peek out from behind her mother's skirts.
"Hey Sugar..." his voice cracked and he held his hand out. But she turned and ran, following her aunt into the house.
"Aw, hell..." That did it and he let the tears fall. "God, what've I done... fuckin' coward... shudda flushed them pills..." He moved past Caitlin's attempt at a hug and toward the street.
"I'll get a cab..." he awkwardly tried to open the door.
"Ryan..." Caitlin pleaded. "You can't let him go like that... he's a mess. Talk to him..."
"You're a real Lady, Caitlin McKenna," he hugged her and kissed her.
It was by the gate, as the flight was being called. Vin stood and shuffled towards the plane, a hand caught his shoulder.
"Why? I need to you. You destroyed my... our family. Why? She loved you, Man. How could you..."
"I could... and did... caused I love her that much," Vin said honestly, eyes like mirrors.
"But why?"
"She... we come from two different worlds, Ryan. I won't drag her into hillbilly county... " he paused in the doorway. "It weren't supposed t'hurt this bad..."
Ryan's eyes bore into the anguished blue ones. It was then he put the clues together. Vin was sacrificing himself and his chance at happiness. He knew without question, looking at the pained body, that this man did indeed love Gabrielle with his heart and soul.
"She'll ferget... me... find someone... proper..."
"Horseshit!" Ryan hissed, getting a nasty glare from the annoyed stewardess.
"You have to board now, Sir."
"Okay," Vin nodded, not sure what to do with his left hand. Ryan ended the decision by shaking it and grabbing the shoulder.
"Whatever twisted idea got stuck in that hard head of yours... is wrong. You go home to that mountain and you heal... body and soul. She's in love with you, Vin. The man in here," he tapped the sweat shirt. "She's no fool... don't shut the door, okay?"
"Okay," Vin nodded, "This is 'tween us, Ryan."
Ryan's befuddlement grew stronger as the forlorn figure shuffled towards the door. He saw the plane takeoff and eyed the new day.
"Sorry, Tanner, but that's one promise I'm gonna break." He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Chris Larabee.
"You know," Buck Wilmington grinned, placing the last of the suitcases in the van. "It's not too late... we'll leave a note. No," He turned, his handsome face breaking into a smile. "We'll send an email from Paris... from our honeymoon suite."
"Tempted as I am," Lily Gavin took the rogue's hand and lead him back inside the large, rustic cabin she'd called home for all these years. "I'll have to pass."
"It won't be the same without you, Lily," his voice was rich and full of sincerity.
"Oh, I'll miss you too, Handsome," she hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You take care of my grandson... all my boys."
"Does Vin know?" Buck sipped his coffee, his dark blue eyes running over the beautiful interior of the fabulous home.
"No, I'm going to surprise him at dinner. I spoke with Caitlin earlier this week. My poor boy's a mess. He's not eating... sleeping too much... he's hiding from them."
"He's turtlin' up," Buck mused, "that's his way. When he's hurtin'... he pulls everything inside. Usually, Chris can draw him out. Hey, he's been through Hell, Lily. Coupled with a long rehab... that can wear on a man."
"I suppose.." She paused, hearing a car door slam. "Who on earth can that be?"
"Dunno," Buck shrugged. Their job wrapped the day before. He and Orrin came back last night, to begin the paperwork. Josiah, J.D. and Nathan weren't expected until this afternoon. Chris and Ezra sometime tomorrow.
"Stay put," he warned, always wary. He moved to the door and was about to peek out the window, when the large knotted pine door opened. "Vin!"
"Buck?" He blinked, swayed a bit and felt a strong arm steady him.
"Whoa!" The womanizer eyed the other man in shock. He'd lost weight. Dark circles rimmed swollen eyes. His color was sallow and there was a hauntedness in the muddled blue eyes. Pain was etched clearly on each feature. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?"
Vin didn't say a word, he didn't know the answer. He didn't realize he was approaching Lily's until the cab driver came to a fork in the road. Her cabin was well hidden, perched high on the side of the mountain. It offered a spectacular view of the mountains, lakes and was as close to Heaven as you could get. She'd added to it over the years, but presevered the rustic feel. A large living area, dining room and huge kitchen occupyed the ground floor. Her studio was on one side, it's floor to ceiling windows peeking into God's house. Upstairs, four bedrooms, two bathrooms and her star room. She called it that, having put in a glass skylight over most of the roof in the room. At night, every star in the heavens was right in the room with you.
When Vin didn't answer, Buck noticed the cab driver and the bag on the step. "Oh, how much?" He peeled off the bills and paid the man. He set the bag inside, just as Lily appeared.
"Oh, Honey, what's happened?" She moved in and caught him, just as his knees gave out.
"Easy there," Buck grabbed the baggy panted waist and got Vin to the large brown leather sofa, covered with a Native American throw. "You stay put, I'll get something with sugar to get your battery recharged."
"Lily..." his voice broke over her name and he felt comfort in her arms. "I didn't even know I was here ... 'til the feller asked fer directions down at the fork."
"You came home," she reassured, knowing how much she loved this place. She drew his head to her shoulder and stroked the long, soft hair. "Now you tell Lily what's wounded that mighty heart."
"I done somethin' awful..."
The razor slashes between the whispered words concerned her. In halting words, he told her of the week of his decline, ending with the trauma of the day prior.
"...the little one... God what have... I done..."
"Shhh!" She rocked him as the floodgates opened. Shaking her head to Buck who was numb and dumbfounded. He put a large glass of orange juice down and caught Vin's large, pained eyes.
"I'm sorry, Vin, I didn't mean to hear that. I'll wait outside."
"No, s'okay, Bucklin..." Vin sat up, wiped his eyes on a napkin and slid his hand into Lily's. He felt Buck's hand on his neck, massaging it gently. The larger man had no idea how much he needed that. "I need t'heal... inside and out... do some thinkin'..."
"You take all the time you need, Slick," Buck offered, both hands on Vin's neck. He let his strong thumbs work into the younger man's knotted flesh. Then he released and picked up the foaming fresh juice, handing him a glass. "Here, you look like Hell , Tanner."
"Buck's right, Sweetheart, you came home... here... to this place because it's such a part of you. " She smiled then, recalling al lthe weekends he'd spent here. Now was as good a time as any, she nodded to Buck, who smiled and got her satchel.
"What's this?" Vin hiccuped, wiping his running nose, before taking a large envelope.
"The deed, to my... your house." She smiled at the stunned blue eyes.
"No way, Lily. I can't take this. What the hell were ya thinkin..." He said of the prize property, worth a small fortune.
"I was thinking of that old expression, 'Home is where the heart is.' Your heart is here... it belongs to you. Honey, I can't live forever. I won't have strangers in my house. You live here... in your 'church'. "
"But Chris," the stunned man managed, "he's yer kin..."
"I have property in the wine country of France, a small chalet in Switzerland and a lovely home in Florida. Don't you worry about my grandson, he's been well provided for... all my boys have been," she winked at Buck Wilmington, who she cared for deeply. "You, Child, have a special place in this old woman's heart..."
She drew his troubled head on her shoulder and stroked the silky hair. "...you think on your life, Vin. How lonely you were before you found this place, Chris and your brothers." She pulled his face up, cupping his chin and drilling his eyes. "Then you bring that beautiful woman here and fill this home with love. You two belong together, you know I'm right. I'll sleep in peace... please, Vin. don't break this old woman's heart."
"Lily... I..." he still denied, tingling from head to toe. It was too much to absorb. Yes, he did love this home, the view and the peace he found here.
"Honey, it's in my will. Let me see you enjoy this home while my eyes are still open. There's a trust fund set up, to pay for the property taxes. From the moment I met you... I felt God's hand moving. This is right, Vin... you bring that lady home..."
He lifted his head and looked at her, eyes wet with wild amazement. Such love was pouring from her eyes. Was she right? Would these mountains heal his wounded would and mend his broken heart?
"I can't... Lily... we're in two different worlds... I can't take her from what she loves..."
"Then you find a place... a special place... for both of you." She stood, knowing they would miss the plane. He rose and faced her, she kissed his cheek and kept a hand on that magnificent face. "You are so very beautiful. Do you know that Boy?" She choked, brushing her hand over his forehead. "I love you, Honey.
"Aw, hell, Lily,"
His cracked voice and luminous eyes gave her a smile and she hugged him tight, relishing the wonderful rising tide of emotion that flooded her.
"Oh, I'm gonna miss you, Vin Tanner. I'm going to live with my sister. Fate took over 90 years from us. I won't leave her side again. Ryan is expanding the cottage in the garden. It'll be plenty for us. Our family will be close by, especially that lovely child."
She saw his face blanch and a hand go to his mouth.
"Cut that out!" she ordered, "I won't have you making a pity puddle in my parlor. What's done is done. You take the next three weeks to get that shoulder healed. I don't have to remind you of the date three weeks after that."
"No," Vin whispered of Ryan and Caitlin's wedding. "I'll be there..."
"Good,"She decided, "Maybe this time will give both of you time to reflect. Follow your heart, Sweetheart, you have so very much to offer her." She saw the shock riddled in the blue eyes. "If you talk trash again about two different worlds I'll pop you!"
He heard Buck laugh and felt that large hand grip his neck again.
"She's right, Vin. Don't be a fool. What you two got is rare... most folks don't ever get to that place. You give her this," he tapped the slim man's heart. "...and these..." he lifted the healed left and and tapped the right one. "That's all you need. You find a place..." he eyed the beautiful home. "Here ... for both of you. If you don't... you'll regret it forever. Don't throw away what God brought together."
"God?" Vin blinked, studying Buck's serene face.
"God," Buck nodded. "I might not hit the pews every Sunday, but I know a thing or two about how He works." He paused, "I'm taking Lily to the airport, then I have a meeting with Orrin. I'll pick up some groceries for you and come back tonight, okay?"
"Thanks Buck," Vin nodded, still numb at the whole thing.
"You call your insurance company and get the switch for therapy approved. Have the folks in New Orleans fax them your progess report." Buck ordered, helping Lily in the car. He jogged back to the doorway, where the shocked man stood. "There's plenty of lunch left in the refrigerator. You need to but some meat on them bones." He caught the troubled blue eyes again. "Don't fuck this up, Vin. I don't want to have to kick that scrawny Tanner ass clear to New Orleans."
"...I ain't scrawny..." Vin defended, then eyed his baggy clothes. "...well... mebbe a little... but I'm tough."
"Yeah," Buck's face was serious again. "That's what I'm counting on."
He got up early, before the break of the new day. He took a long shower, letting the hot water hit his skin like bullets. He pulled a sweatsuit on, hissing and wincing as he manuevered his injured arm. He carefully eased his arm back into the immobilizer and adjusted it. His mind was speeding with the jagged images of the past ten days. He padded down the wide, pine stairs and into the large kitchen. He popped some pancakes in the microwave and tossed some sausages in the frying pan. Coupled with a large glass of juice and a doughtnut, it filled his empty belly. He filled a large thermal mug with coffee, doused with a lot of sugar and headed out for a hike.
It was cold and his troubled breaths created frosty bursts of doubt. He watched the geese flying over the lake and calling out noisly. Deer and other wildlife paused in trepidation, seeing the solitary figure. He sipped the coffee and felt the warmth of the rising Dawn kiss his face. He painfully missed her more now, than he had before. How he would love to share this special place with her. His mind's eye brought a picture to play. A large wool blanket, they're huddled under it, kissing and enjoying each other and the wonders of the new day being born.
"Brielle..." he whispered, heart full of spiked thorns.
He thought on all that Lily said. Could there be a place where both of them could exist, happy and fulfilled? Had he shortchanged her? Should he have voiced his concerns? What if that choice would have been too hard for her? What if she chose him? How would he know her choice was real? Would that choice wear off too soon? Would she miss her life and what dreams she'd projected for her future?
He sipped the coffee again, eyeing the rich, blue water racing by. How he loved this place. He could stay here forever. Lily's face sprung up, the beautiful eyes shining with love. The night prior, after Buck left, his troubled mind eased inside that special house. That what it was... special. Was the eldery woman right? Could he change the house into a home? He'd need Brielle for that... to fill it with love and convert it.
He finished his coffee and took a hike. His arm, back and shoulder were throbbing without mercy. But he welcomed the pain. It kept his mind sharp. He never wanted to repeat the disgraceful place he created with those pills. Every step brought a jarring pain to the healing limbs. Finally, with the sun's rays creating a damp line of sweat on him, he headed for home. With every jarring step, he realized he'd pushed his still healing body too far. The red tape of the therapy transfer would be straightened out by Thursday and he was due in town for his first session.
He paused, his left hand covering his injured one and relished how good that word sounded. Home... home... he eyed the magnifcent edifice rising above the gorgeous pine trees. That's when it hit him... he was home.
Without the pills to pull him quickly into a numbing sleep, he distressed. He couldn't settle in the large bed. He padded downstairs and got a coke, then picked up the Tylenol P.M. He popped a couple, flipped the 52 inch television on in the living room and carefully settled on the couch. He pulled the large Indian design blanket on him and fell into a hard sleep.
When he peeled his heavy eyelids open, it was dark. It took him a full minute to realize where he was. Outside the large window, the spectacular panorama was shielded in twilight's cloak. The room was dark, only the snapping fire giving it a soft glow. Fire? His troubled brows furrowed and he moved his left hand, rubbing the pain-throbbed eyes. Fire? He sighed, coughed and sat up... then he saw the boots.
Between the headache, his back and arm throbbing and gnawing talons of the painkiller withdrawl, he was in a shitty mood. Their eyes met and remained locked for a full minute, clashing in muted resistance. The visitor's features were pinched in anger. The knuckles were white against the wooden claws on the arms of the great wingchair. Every muscle was taut in simmering rage. The eyes were the coldest shade of green he'd ever seen. Chris Larabee was pissed off... and Vin Tanner was in no mood.
"Yer trepassin'... " Vin snapped, deflecting the lecture before it got airborne. "Get the hell outta m'house." He hissed. The body never moved. The only hint of change was one single, sandy eyebrow rising over scorching seagreen eyes. Ignoring the challenge, he eased his body back down, averting his gaze.
"Get up!"
The words that hit his tender ears were dripping with rage. Vin sucked in a hot breath and felt his heart jackhamming against his ribcage. Why couldn't they leave him alone? His headache was in overdrive, threatening to spill his hot eyes onto his cheeks. His shoulder felt like hot knives were slashing it. He didn't want to face the wrath of Larabee. The jeans remained at his eye level and his own anger exploded. With andrenalin bubbling over, he shot off the sofa in a hurry. Not having eaten all day and being hypoglycemic, the whole room spun wildy. His knees buckled and his body flew sideways. He landed on his knees, left hand flying out to grab something to stop his fall. Flesh smacked against flesh.
"Leave me the fuck alone..don't need no fuckin' yella haired conscience up m'ass... " he panted in agony, trying unsuccessfully to wiggle free of the body hauling him up.
It wasn't much of a battle. He was losing badly. But he wouldn't give in... he thrashed and jerked, trying to free his pinned body. Larabee's chest wall and legs seemed to be made of iron. The harder he fought, the harder it got. Finally, panting heavily and with sweat soaking his face, neck and shirt, his grunts of frustration turned into hacking pants of fear. The wall of dizziness smashed into him and his body went limp.
"Great."
Chris shook his head and gently got Vin's troubled body back on the couch. He kept his troubled friend's body upright, easing the head back against the high, padded cushion. He tapped the sweating face and the jaw fell open.
"Stupid... fuckin' Texan..." he hissed, "you didn't eat, did you? Dammit to hell, Vin... " He muttered, heading for the kitchen. He came prepared and a large pot of beef stew was simmering on the stove. Two frozen loaves of garlic bread were waiting and he put them in the oven. He poured a large glass of juice and returned. He sat on the top of the polished, knotted pine coffee table and waited. The eyes twitched twice, a small groan crept between the slack lips. An uncertain tongue peeked out, then retreated. Several small coughs came next and the fingers on the left hand began to move.
Finally, two eyes opened. He was ready to fight again, but there was nothing left in there but defeat. They remained locked onto his own for a pregnant cluster of seconds. He handed the glass of juice over and nodded. The pint disappeared and the empty glass was returned. He changed his offensive strategy, easing back on the ferocious attack plan. His voice, like his eyes, were full of concern.
"What happened?
"Reality." Vin replied, trying desperately not to melt under the scruntinous gaze. "I ain't gonna spill anythin'..." he warned, not wishing to speak.
"You don't have a choice," Chris stood, "...dinner's ready. Get your chin off the ground and your ass off that couch." He offered his hand and waited.
Vin stared at the open palm for several seconds. He took three steadying breaths, long and painful. He thought on that pink skin inches from his eyes and what it represented. Chris was the best thing that ever happened to him. The one person who saw him for what he was; ugly scars and all. Nobody understood him like this man, nobody ever tried. Effortlessly, the blond could stroke his soul. He took two more breaths and made a decision-the only decision. He needed this man now... more than he ever had before. He raised his troubled head, met those eyes and lifted his left hand. When the other gripped it, he felt an almost electical charge race through him.
They ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of utencil to dish. Vin downed two glasses of ice tea in vain, trying to squash an undying thirst. He pushed the plate away and held the cold glass against his face. He shut his eyes, as the fierce battle raging between his temples flared up.
Chris took both plates to the sink, depositing them, along with utencils and the pot into hot, sudsy water. He dried his hands and eyed the sorry sight before him. He sighed, poured himself a glass of red wine and tapped Vin's shoulder. He didn't wait for a reply, there would be only one option. He needed to get to the bottom of this mess... if it took all night. He stoked the fire, settled in the tall wing chair and waited. Finally, Vin shuffled in, clutching a large thermal mug of ice tea, with a red straw shooting out.
"What the hell did you do?" He drilled, watching the dull waves of pain in the blue eyes.
"I fucked up."
"Well, thanks, Vin for clearing that up!"
The sarcastic reply caused his head to rise. He knew then, by the fire in the determined greens, that it would be better to put it all on the table. He sat down, sipped his tea and leaned his aching head against the sofa.
"How much do ya know? I ain't repeatin' nuthin' I don't hafta..."
"I know I shouldn't have to come home after a tough assignment to a machine full of fuckin' messages about you trashing houses and breaking hearts."
"...guess there ain't nuthin' left t'tell..."
"You guessed wrong. Between Brie's shattered voice, Caitlin's shocked one and Ryan's pissed off one... Jesus, Vin, what the hell happened?"
He sighed hard, placed the mug on a cloth coaster on the table and raked a hand through his hair. Start... where to start.
"I know the doctor warned about how recovery time can put ya in a depression. Y'all had yer jobs and lives and business all day. I had four walls starin' at me. It weren't t'bad in the beginning... then the days got longer. Between the pain and the emptiness... well them pills started lookin' good. I didn't take them at all the first week or so. Brielle got rite pissed off... warnin' me I wasn't takin' the doctor's advise. So one day, after a hard workout... I popped 'em. Then, it jest got easier and easier." He paused to take a drink and then eyed the impassive face. "Most of it is blurry... I'd wake up at night... groggy and dry... take more and pass out. I got hooked on 'em... got cranky. Then Brielle got some award and we got fussied up and went t'a ball downtown. Never seen so many fuzzlebutts in one place. The jewelry damn near blinded me. I didn't know no one... couldn't catch half of what they were talkin' 'bout. I ain't good with folks I don't know... especially rich ones."
Chris did wince inwardly at that, knowing just how uncomfortable Tanner had been. His brief conversation with Ryan had netted that information. The Irishman recalled how lost Vin's voice was the night of the ball. It was in the following days, that his journey into Hell began. Something happened at the party to start the ball rolling. From the other cryptic clues, Vin slurred the night Ryan carted him out, he felt inadequate. More likely, someone made him feel out of place. Ryan added that Vin felt he wasn't good enough for Gabrielle.
"...and..."
"It wouldn't have been s'bad... if Ryan and Cait had showed up. I wouldn't have felt so out of place. These folks was nasty, Chris... mean... cruel." His throat choked, recalling the vulgar terms. "I still had m'cast on... they put that fucked up midget chicken in front of me... I couldn't cut it... they gave me dirty looks... real dirty. I tried eatin' the potatoes, but they fell all over... I couldn't pick the glass up... it was too slippery... I was drier than a buzzard's but in July."
As the picture became more visible, Chris's empathy grew. He did know how mean and cruel some small minded people could be.
"I dropped the glass... it busted over the crone. From the time I sat down, she gave me looks like I was a bug 'er somethin'. Nasty like... then... after the glass..." he paused, eyes burning.
"Get it out Vin..." Chris pushed, seeing the wall starting to form. He knew the hot eyes were holding back something painful.
"I said I was sorry... offered t'help... they... called me... Jethro... said I was from hillbilly county and worse.. It was awful... they was loud. All the folks from the other tables... rich folks with blue blood... starin' at me, repulsed..."
"Damn," Chris swore softly, seeing an mental picture of Vin, complete with two broken arms, all alone and in pain.
"I took off... I couldn't breathe... that's when I found out about Ryan and Cait. So I tried t'find Brielle... and... I passed that old crone again... Mrs. Hitchcock..." He spat out in disgust. "...holdin' court with some of the ones from the table and some of Brielle's friends from work. They said... bad..." His voice broke and he stopped, rubbing his eyes and dropping his head.
As hard as it was to listen to this conversation, it had to be done. Chris sipped his wine, gave Vin a moment to compose himself and spoke.
"Get your head up and finish."
"One of 'em... said... that somebody like her would only want one thing from me... and it weren't my brains. They said I was trailer trash... that she'd never get ahead at the hospital as long as I was... " He paused again, this time as Chris's low voice emitted a string of curses. "They was laughin' at me... makin' fun... " He paused and took a deep breath. "I walked away and later I saw her... with some of the other doctors. They was talkin' about aneurisms... Chris, she was glowing. She was smarter than any of 'em. She was in control and lovin' every minute of it. I couldn't understand anythin' they were sayin'. Then I seen jest how right them buzzards were... I love her t'much t'take her away from that."
"There are lots of federal offices in New Orleans Vin..." he offered, "and there are fine hospitals here."
"Ya don't get it... we got nothin' in common. When we're alone, I feel like I'm fuckin' superman. But once we're with her... in her world... I'm lost. I can compete there."
"She loves you, Vin. Don't fuck this up."
"Ya don't know a damn thing, Larabee." Vin laughed sarcastically. "Did ya know she's fluent in several languages? I can't even manage English. We'd meet friends o' hers around town and most o' the time, I couldn't follow what they were sayin'. I'd jest nod and smile like a bobbin' head doll... I heard a bunch o'them nurses at the hospital whisperin'... callin' me her boy toy." He eyes narrowed at the short snort. "It ain't funny!"
"No, neither is your pity party. Vin, you never listened to trash talk before. As for languages and education," he sat forward, directing his full attention. "I've dined with five star Generals and worked with professionals that had doctrates. But I've only known one Tanner and he puts them all to shame. It's not about degrees or polish, Vin, that's all bullshit. You think Sara and I weren't different?" He laughed, shaking his blond head. "She was outgoing, full of life. I was more staid. She loved art, music and literature. I loved the Wall Street Journal and the Stock market. I was conservative, she was a liberal. I liked rock and roll and she loved classical. I loved red meat, she was a vegatarian. We didn't let any of that shit stop us." He moved across the room, sitting on the edge of the knotty pine table. He caught the side of the distressed man's neck with his hand. "You don't push the differences away, Vin, you celebrate them. You learn from each other. You don't go belly up at the first sign of differences. You're a better man than that..."
"It ain't jest that, Chris." He found a voice, albeit a small one, "She spent more money on a pair o'old chairs last week than I bring home in six weeks. She loves all them museums and statues and fussy antique shops. She loves fancy restaurants and good wine and don't care how much it costs. We went t'one French place and I couldn't even afford the water. That's her world... not mine. I'm.. suffocatin'Chris. I'm tryin' like hell t'tread water, but I'm drownin'."
"So that's when you started hittin' the pills and buryin' your sorrows?"
"Yeah... the day with the chairs... I exploded in the store... embarassed her. She was pissed off. We didn't say nuthin' durin' lunch. Then super fuckin' Cliffman shows up... tall, dark and handsome... right offa a GQ cover. What?" He frowned at the soft chuckle.
"Super fuckin' Cliffman?"
"Her old fiance... them fuzzlebutts liked t'have compared him with them gods from Mt. Olympus... when they was trash talkin' me..."
"So you felt inferior to this guy?"
"Hell, yeah!" his head flew up, "He's a fancy surgeon... his suit musta cost a thousand dollars... all polished up ... smilin' t'wide... gave me shivers. I cut out... headed home... left them t'their reunion..."
"...and that's when you fucked up?" Chris guessed.
"Yeah, I figgered I'll make her... turn away..."
"Not your best move."
"At the time it seemed t'be... them days... are a blur, Chris. I threw up, trashed the cottage... didn't clean m'self up... it was horrible. Ryan said... Grace... came... " He stopped, unable to finish.
"I heard, and you're lucky I wasn't the one who found you. Ryan's a better man than me. She's a kid , Vin."
"Don't ya think I know that! Goddammit Chris!" He screamed, stood and shoved the other man hard, sending him off the table.
"What I know," Larabee stood, watching those raging blue eyes. "Is that Doctor Gabrielle Marquette is one classy lady and she loves you, the forever kind. I saw her face when she sat over your bed when you were in a coma. She never left you, Vin. She stroked your face, cooled the fever, kissed you, spoke to you. I saw the tears in her eyes... real tears I saw the compassion when she took your hand and pressed it to her lips and face. Vin, she loves you. .How can you disrepct her like this. She's one of the most intelligent women I've ever met. She's no fool and she knows class when she meets it."
"Disrepect... I wouldn't do that!'
"You just did..." Chris rose, crossed the room and got his wine. "Seems to me your ancestor was a helluva lot smartter than you."
"What's that supposta mean?"
"Philippe loved Isabella for who she was not what she was. Her money didn't matter to him. The difference in classes didn't matter to him. Her education, culture and bearing didn't matter. He followed his heart."
"That was different..."
"No, you're a coward!"
"It was..." he furied, standing up and flexing his lone arm. "She left all that shit behind and went t'him."
"It's not about money Vin. He loved her ...all of her, not some of her. You can't love Gabrielle but not who she is. It doesn't work that way." He paused, walking to the fire to poke at it. "and you never gave her a chance. You chose the words of those bigots over someone you loved and respected. That makes sense to you? You never even asked her." He turned, leveling a hard stare.
"No, ya don't get it!" He tried weakly to defend and tried to walk away.
"I get it better than you think. Sara was Lily's only heir when we met. She was also smart enough to realize that it didn't matter. I embraced her for who she was, the most beautiful soul God ever created. I got up every day yearning to be with her, touch her, hold her... love her for all she gave me... her heart and soul."
"It ain't jest the money, Chris." Vin sighed, sat down and hunched over. He was tired, in pain and defeated. "I can't help thinkin' she's up there," he gestured above his head. "... and I'm down here... "
"What I get is that you chose to build walls between you, instead of a solid fort AROUND you. You didn't respect her enough to be honest." He walked over gripping the back of the downcast neck. "Then you live here," he balanced his palms flat out. "Vin how somebody talks or acts or what their hobbies are ... that's not what they're about. It's here..." he tapped his chest. "You didn't raise a stink like this when we went to that Civil War auction and I bought that U.S. percussion rifle."
"That was different..."
"How so?"
"Yer not her..." He shook his head. "I can still taste 'er... smell 'er... see them eyes..." He shook the image away. "Ya went t'college. Ya know about the right suits t'wear, the charity shit and how t' talk t'all kinds of olks.. Ya got spit an polish. Folks don't look down at ya... like a bug..."
"Are you finished?" He used a hostile tone and saw the younger man flinch as if wounded. "Is that all I am to you? Spit and poilish? I thought we had more than that. I thought what we had went beyond anything material or physical. To a place with no boundries. I thought we had something deep and spiritual. . I learned more about life and living it from you, than any book I read or all of them degrees hanging on my wall. I thought I found my brother... I guess I was wrong."
With that he placed the glass down and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door. His long strides made short work on the floor. He didn't want to hear Vin's excuses. He was angry and wanted out. He wanted the younger man to think on his words.
"No! Chris, please..."
He paused but didn't turn around. He gripped the door knob and waited. Then, after hearing the slow shuffle of feet across the floor, he felt a hand on his shoulder — a trembling hand. He turned his face and saw a pair of horrified blue eyes reflected in the window. Their mirrored depths shimmering with shame, loss and anguish. Sighing, he turned, snapping his hand out automatically, gripping the other's forearm.
"I'm sorry...." Vin gasped, "I can't lose ya... be a pain worse than anything Trent and Fowler dished out... don't never want t'feel that... never."
"Okay, then," the blond issued quietly. "Vin, you love each other, the deep and for real kind. That's a good foundation. Don't push away her differences — embrace them, learn from them. You got no idea how much that heart of your affects people." He laughed at the startled expression now facing him. "You're a good man Vin Tanner, the finest man I know. That's who she sees, a knight on a stallion, just like in the fairytale books. Something strong and true, whose heart shines with honor. She's offering her heart to you, Cowboy. You take it and cherish it, then ride into the sunset."
"How?" Vin managed, after a long pause.
"Do you love her?"
"Stupid question!"
"Then you start there and you talk to her, open your heart to her. She won't go away, Vin. Trust me." He saw a flicker of hope in the sky eyes and seized it. "It starts with one step. You call her, talk to her. You use these weeks to heal, inside and out. Then we'll fly to that wedding." He saw a brief cloud of hesitation, and images of those wagging tongues. "I got your back, Cowboy, okay?"
"Okay," Vin sighed, suddenly feeling a weight lifted off his frame. Sometimes, the power of this man slayed him. Most times it left him speechless, but grateful. Tonight, it burned a deep and lasting brand onto his soul
"Good, get yer scrawny ass in the kitchen. You owe me dessert."
"Seems to me," Vin paused in doorway, eyes deep and emotive, "What I owe can't never be repaid... thanks, Chris Larabee, fer yer hand and all that comes with it." He cast the other a crooked Tanner grin. "Don't them boots of'yers ever get tired?"
"Of kicking Tanner butt?" Chris returned the grin, cuffing the shaggy head. "Never!"
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