Setting: ATF Universe
Page 2
The bright snow glinted through the windshield, only adding to the driver's building headache. He fumbled in the glove compartment and pulled out his beeper, cell phone and a bottle of Tylenol. He popped two of the pills and swallowed them with a bottle of water. Draining it, he sighed heavily, glad that the three day trial was over and his civic duty was done. He cranked the heat on, warming up the chilly vehicle and started the car. He put the wipers on and punched out Vin's cell phone, but got no response. He then tried Buck's and got the same results. Frowning, he dialed J.D.'s and got a busy signal. He was about to dial Josiah, to find out how the detail went, when he eyed his dormant beeper. He pushed the beeper on and read the numbers that spilled out. He eyed the last group of unfamiliar digits and frowned. He punched out the numbers and headed south, out of the courthouse parking lot.
Josiah watched the hour of five p.m. approach as the lab crew continued to clean up the crime scene. He was just finishing up and ready to hitch a ride uptown with one of the departing patrol cars, when the phone on the wall in the kitchen rang.
"Detective Muller."
Chris frowned and it took him a few seconds to regroup. The words 'Detective Muller' caused his stomach to drop. "This is Chris Larabee, ATF agent. I got a message to call this number on my beeper."
"Hold on..."
Chris waited and heard the tired policeman's voice call out. "Anybody here call a Chris Larabee?"
Josiah waved and inched around the lab crew, heading for the phone. He nodded to the detective and walked towards the large freezer, away from the noise.
"Chris?"
"Josiah?" Chris replied more harshly than he'd planned, "What's going on?"
"Swing by and pick me up," the gray-haired agent requested, "I'll fill you in on the way to the hospital."
"Hospital?" Chris's voice rose to an unnatural level and his headache suddenly took a turn for the worse. "What the hell happened? Who got hurt?"
"Take a guess."
"Dammit Tanner..." Chris hissed, slamming his hand onto the steering wheel.
"Trouble does seem to find that boy." Josiah walked back towards the door. "Chang's gang showed up, the Old Man was waiting in the kitchen and we nailed him. Lee Danning, too..."
"Danning? What's his angle?"
"Guns for coke... Vin got cut in the take down."
"How bad?"
"Slashed in the side, it bled a lot, he's in surgery now. J.D. said the ER doctor told him Vin would be fine. He was more upset about ruining your fancy shirt."
"What fancy shirt?"
"Ooops... You didn't hear that from me."
"I'm around the corner, I'll be right over." Chris flipped the phone off as he pulled his sleek, black Ford Mustang into the curb. He flipped his badge to the officer who approached his car and then stepped out. He saw a group of agents behind a large surveillance van and headed over.
"Chris?"
"Matt," Chris replied, recognizing the DEA agent who was working undercover in Danning's organization.
"You missed quite a show." Kelly Harris, the senior DEA assigned to the case complimented. "That kid really put on some moves. You might want to see this..." he nodded to the video terminal inside the van.
Chris watched the black and white images scramble past in reverse motion, before the technician pushed the play button. His face remained passive during the short transaction. His eyes flinched slightly when he saw the knife fly under Vin's gray jacket. He watched until the black screen came up, and now his jaw was clenched in concern.
"What happened to Wilmington?" Kelly accussed angrily. "Ted said Tanner was working with him. He blew out before the bust went down. " Harris noted of the conversation he'd had with the senior agent who was the team's relief.
"I don't know." Chris gripped both his hips and scowled. "But I'm gonna find out..."
"Friend or no friend, Larabee, you better not cover for him..."
"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Chris drilled, eyes glowing, "...and I don't think you're in any position to be pointing fingers, Kelly," he growled and walked towards Josiah, who was waiting by the car. He jerked his head and didn't speak until they were at the corner, turning onto the expressway.
"Where the fuck was Buck!" Chris exploded, unleashing his fury.
"I don't know, Chris..." Josiah answered truthfully. "He slipped out just before it went down. Vin mumbled something about him being sick... said it was his call. We can't find him..."
"Sick?" Chris scoffed, white-knuckling the steering wheel. "He'll be wishing he was fuckin' dead when I get done with him."
"Chris, we need to hear Buck's side..."
"Buck's side?" Chris growled, turning into the parking lot of the hospital and heading for the ER. "Buck's place was at his partner's side. He deserted Vin, broke cover and walked out? There's no excuse for that. Vin could have been killed!"
"I know that Chris," Josiah got out of the car and jogged to keep up with Larabee's long strides. He grabbed his arm and saw the fury in the green eyes. "You calm down a minute and think on something. This is Buck Wilmington we're talking about. You know him better than any of us... Buck wouldn't desert his partner unless it was a real emergency, something must have shook him up good. They were ten minutes from the end of their shift... it was quiet... he had no way of knowing."
"Let go of my arm." Chris jerked free and strode through the doors. "Tanner?" He quizzed the receptionist at a keyboard. He sighed impatiently while she checked several images on the monitor.
"He's in recovery," she pointed to an elevator, "There's a waiting area on the third floor, Dr. Johnson, the surgeon, will be available in a few minutes. Mr. Tanner will be going to room 414."
Chris didn't say a word during the tense elevator ride, but Josiah saw the tell signs of rage. The tension in the jaw, vein bulging in his neck and those deadly eyes. He followed Chris to the waiting room and watched as the blond requested Dr. Johnson. J.D. jumped up as soon as they arrived.
"A nurse came out a little while ago and said he did good, that he's gonna be fine."
"Did you talk to Buck?" Josiah asked, before Chris's fury spewed from his lips.
"I can't reach him. I've tried his cell phone, his house and work."
"Goddammit Buck..." Chris hissed, seeing bloodstains on the lining of Vin's gray jacket, which was folded on a chair next to J.D.
"It's good to see you're so concerned," J.D. leveled right back, "He could be laying in an alley somewhere dead. You don't even care..."
"Take it easy, J.D.," Josiah soothed, as Chris shook his head and walked away, pacing in the small room. "I'm sure he's fine. Why don't you check some of his hangouts? Maybe stretch your legs a little?"
"Yeah... okay," J.D. agreed, tossing a smoldering glance at Chris's back.
"Mr. Larabee?"
They all turned when a tall, dark woman entered the room. Her exotic good looks and accent bespoke a Jamaican background. Chris moved forward and reached his hand out.
"I'm Chris Larabee." He nodded, shaking her hand, "How's Vin doing?"
"I'm Dr. Johnson and he'll be fine." She reassured, moving her hand to her side. "The wound went from here to here," she traced a path on her side, several inches long. "We had to repair some small bleeders. He lost quite a bit of blood and his hemoglobin count was low, so we gave him a transfusion. I'm keeping him on an I.V. overnight as a precaution. He'll be going up to his room shortly, if you'd like to wait there."
"Thank you," Chris sighed and shook her hand again as she left. J.D. grabbed his leather Avs jacket and angrily brushed past Chris without saying a word. The blond cocked his head and began to frown and Josiah stepped over.
"He's upset," the eldest assessed, "He's been tied up here for hours, worrying about Buck. He needs to get some air. You okay, Boss?"
Chris didn't reply, but his features lost a bit of their tension. Josiah saw the brief flicker of doubt in the icy green eyes and thought it might be worry. J.D.'s message struck a chord, even if the leader wouldn't admit it.
"I'm gonna head back to the office and start putting the report together. I'll update Kelly and Orin. I'll stop back later..." he gripped Chris's shoulder and headed for the elevator. J.D. was still waiting and Josiah asked for a ride downtown. He shook his head a little, noting that the long dark hair and hockey jacket would lead an unassuming eye to believe the youth was still in school. He was unaware the blond was next to him, until the small chime sounded, alerted them of the doors opening.
"Thanks, Josiah, You saved his life."
"That boy promised me six weekends working as a counsler at camp this summer," Sanchez noted of the camp he helped organize for handicapped and mentally challenged children. "Can't afford to lose 'im. Somethin' about that long-haired, cussin' Texan... he's like the damn Pied Piper..." He shook his head and saw a brief smile play on Chris's face. "I'll stop back later."
He'd filled Vin's pitcher with ice chips. He'd paced and paced in the small room. He'd watched the traffic patterns on the busy highway outside. He finally saw the white bag in the corner of the closet. He poked around and drew out a torn white shirt and felt his gut clench at the large amount of blood on it. His anger resurfaced and once he was sure Vin was settled in, he was going to find Buck Wilmington, if it took all night.
The door opened and he placed the shirt on the ledge by the window. He watched as Vin was carefully placed in the bed, with his I.V. alongside. The nurse read a chart that was attached to the gurney and adjusted the drip on the fluid in the plastic bag. She took his blood pressure, temperature and other vital signs, before turning to leave.
"He's doing fine," she answered the silent, brooding face across from her.
"Can he have water?"
"Ice chips..." she called out, "The nurse's station is just down the hall. You press that red button if you need anything."
"Thanks." He paused a moment, leaning over the bedrails to study the sleeping patient. Vin's chest rose and fell and he heard the soft hush of his breath as it passed the parted, slack lips. He pulled the sheet up a little higher, when he saw the pale form tremble a bit. He saw the knife again in the video, how with a flick of a wrist, he'd be viewing Vin in the morgue.
"You're gonna kill me, Cowboy."
He restlessly shifted in the hard chair, finally flipping the television on. Game shows didn't interest him and settled on a rerun of Barney Miller, when the door opened again. A pretty, dark-haired nurse approached with a can of ginger ale.
"The man in 404 didn't even open it," she offered.
"Thanks," Chris nodded and popped the top. He sipped the cold beverage slowly as Barney Miller ended and he sat through two episodes of Taxi. His grumbling stomach complained just as a soft cough from the bed, pulled his attention. He stood and leaned on the rails, turning up the low lights just a bit. Vin's pale face furrowed and a slip of tongue ran along his dry lips. Chris waited and cocked his head watching the signs of life return. First the eyes twitched, the tongue navigated the lips again, the nose wrinkled, the brows furrowed and finally slivers of blue appeared.
"Vin? Vin?" he called softly, patting the sharpshooter's shoulder. He watched the confused twin blues blink at him without interest.
Vin blinked and yawned, staring sleepily at the expensive watch at his eye level. He moved his head a little and saw a familiar blond haircut. He squinted his eyes and the blurry face came closer.
"Larabee?" he croaked, wincing and clutching his dry throat.
"Hey..." Chris smiled down, pulling his hand back to the rail. He heard the click of the tongue investigating the dry mouth and smiled sympathetically. He'd been there himself and knew how wonderful the ice chips would taste. "Hold on..." He pushed the button, raising Vin to a semi-erect position. "Incoming..." he warned the drowsy patient, who parted his lips on instinct. Carefully, Chris spooned a healthy amount of ice slivers into the waiting mouth. A low moan of pleasure was his reward. Vin munched on a few more spoonfuls, before his sated eyes peeled open again and squinted at his friend.
"How you doing, Cowboy?"
Chris's soft tone held enough concern to give the blue-eyed patient a weak smile. He gave a small nod, held his arm up and locked Larabee's forearm, giving him a silent response.
"You just can't let a week go by without giving them nurses a show," Chris teased watching Vin's reign of confusion continue.
"Don't recall..." Vin murmured, shivering slightly. "Damn it's cold in here..."
"That's because you have no body fat," Chris replied picking up the torn, bloody shirt. "Hey, I got one that looks something like this, only mine has buttons and no blood."
"Not really..." Vin grimaced and gripped the rail hard, his jaw clenching. "I was fixin' on tellin' ya... it was in yer closet at the office. Bucklin said it looked great. I'll get ya... a..noth..er..." He hissed and pressed back against the bed, trying to get comfortable. He was very drowsy and it was hard to keep his eyes open. He squirmed and tried to sit up, only to meet a firm hand on his chest.
"Don't worry about the shirt, Vin," Chris eased him back onto the bed. He saw Vin furrowing his brows and cocking his head. It was a dead giveaway, the sniper was trying too hard. "Forget about it for now, Vin. You just get some rest. You got another scar to add to your collection. You got a cut in your side, but the doctor sewed you up fine."
"Chris?" Vin blinked as a vision of a broken crate of rifles and the rapport of gunfire filled his head. He saw a leering face and felt a slash of pain in his side. Then he saw an awful image, Buck Wilmington's face full of deep pain. "Buck?"
"Can you tell me about Buck?"
The blond saw a flicker of confusion before Vin dropped his head. One hand came up and pulled the tangled hair from his face. The hand slid over the confused blue eyes and Chris cocked his head, waiting. A long sigh was his only reply.
Vin tried to weed through the muddy mire in his sleepy brain. Fleeting images of Oriental bodies and bullets were all he could recall. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at Chris, and saw the anger simmering in the green eyes. What happened to Buck? He heard the unmistakeable tone of accusation in the voice. Something went wrong... very wrong. Then another image appeared, a body in the corner riddled with bullets.
"Aw, shit... he's dead, ain't he? I fucked up..." he stiffened his body and swallowed hard to control a wave of nausea.
Vin's body jerked and Chris grabbed a group of paper towels, holding it by the injured man's mouth, but nothing came up. He rested a hand on Vin's shoulder and waited for the labored breathing to regulate. He saw Vin blink and the blue eyes darting, reaching for something beyond the edge of the muddled brain. "Don't push too hard, Vin. It'll keep..."
"No... I see... bits and pieces..." Vin's voice was fading. "...bodies in the corner... Bucklin?" The voice caught and Chris tapped the pale face, noting the lower lip being bitten.
"He wasn't with the dead at the scene, Vin. He left before it went down... he left you alone."
"...he's sick... told 'im t'go..." Vin frowned, not liking the anger in Chris's tone. He didn't know all the pieces, but he knew he had to protect Buck. "...I... called... it... I..." the raspy voice trailed off, even though his mind told him there was more, his eyes wouldn't comply.
Chris waited but the steady breathing told him Vin had slipped back into his recovery cocoon. He lowered the bed again and got an extra blanket from the closet, pulling it up over the shivering body. Visiting hours ended and the nurse came in to remind Chris that he had to leave. He nodded and made his way to his car. He wasn't aware of his path of action, until he pulled up in front of Buck's condo. He was still clutching the shirt, when he climbed the stairs. The house was dark, the only light was the one over the door on the patio. Chris walked around to the back of the house, where Buck usually parked, but the spot was empty. He went back to his own car and just as he sat down, he saw a set of headlights flicker behind the house, then die. He threw his body from the car and strode quickly. His anger increased with every step and by the time he reached the back door, the unmistakable tall body was just a few feet in front of him. Just as the key clicked and the door unlocked, he made his move.
Bud and Terry Wilson had been Grace and Frank's best friends. They lived just up the street and had come immediately to the shaken woman's side. Grace's sister Mary arrived and some other friends and Buck slipped out, promising to return in the morning. The cold air bit his skin, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel much of anything, it was almost surreal. He couldn't believe it yet, Frank being gone forever. The dull headache had been riding him hard for hours now and he needed to sleep. Grace would be counting on him and he wouldn't let Frank down. He'd promised his first partner a long time ago, he'd take care of Grace. He slid from behind the wheel and headed for his door, keys in hand. He was lost in thought as he unlocked the door and turned the knob.
Buck heard the crunch of snow on gravel behind him and turned, seeing only a brief flash of burning twin green lasers. Before he could utter a sound, he was slammed forward into the front door. He bounced off the wood and landed on all fours, inside his foyer. A click of a light switch sent illumination into the neat room.
"Where the fuck have you been?
He caught his breath and spit out a wad of blood from his split lip, before he turned and saw the irate face of Chris Larabee.
"Chris, I can explain," Buck defended, "...you see..."
"Explain?" Chris interrupted, his nerves fried, "It's been six Goddamn hours, Buck! We didn't know if you were dead or alive. Explain that!" Chris raged, lifting the stammering body and shoving hard against the nearby kitchen wall. "You see this nifty, little invention? You punch numbers in it and talk to people." He slammed the phone down, "It's called a fuckin' telephone!"
"That's enough, Chris!" Buck jerked free, spitting another wad of blood into his sink. "Look, would you just listen for a minute?"
"Listen?" Chris gritted, "Oh yeah, I'm all ears. I want to hear why you left your partner to face the fuckin' Chinese Mafia by himself."
"What!" Buck's heart dropped into his stomach, which was rapidly approaching his feet. "Vin?"
"Vin?" Chris repeated the shaken voice derisively, "Now you ask?" He paused and saw the shock descending into the dark blue eyes. Guilt hovered in the air, before settling on the tall man's shoulders, like a cape of misery. "So you're wondering..." Chris turned his back and moved away, back into the foyer. He bent over and picked up the garment, balling into a tense fist. "...is he home? Is he in the hospital? or Is he in the fuckin' morgue! You son-of-a-bitch!" Chris's venomous words were hurled at the stunned agent, along with the bloody shirt.
Buck froze when the once pristine white shirt landed about eight inches from his feet. More than half of one side was now stained maroon. His fingers trembled violently as he bent to pick it up. A vision of Vin's gray body on a slab, covering in blood, stabbed at his brain. "Oh Jesus... Vin... What happened?"
"You mean aside from his partner deserting him? Let's see... he was left to face a half-dozen deadly killers by himself... Oh and then there's the knife that Lee Danning shoved into his side..."
"Fuck..." Buck rocked back, raking a shaking hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Chris, I shouldn't have left him."
"No, you shouldn't have." Chris spat back. "You'll both have plenty of time to reflect on that little infraction, during your suspension." He paused, his chest heaving in anger. He took his wool coat off and tossed it onto a vacant kitchen chair. Even the pain in Buck's face and the heavy guilt he wore, didn't take the red fury away. "I'm waiting Buck."
"Is he okay?" Buck's voice was small and unsure. His chest ached so bad, he laid his shaky hand on it, pressing against his wool sweater.
"He's lucky... a few more inches and he'd be sleeping in the blue room," He noted of the morgue.
Buck's sigh was audible and seemed to take the little energy he had left. He took his leather jacket off and tossed it aside. He sunk into a chair at his kitchen table and rested his face on his crossed arms. The scent of Tanner still clung to the shirt and that made the pain worse. He almost felt Frank glaring at him, knowing that was the first rule he taught Buck.
"Never leave your partner to dance alone..."
"Huh?" Chris moved closer, trying to hear the choked voice.
"First thing Frank taught me," Buck murmured, wiping his moist eyes on Vin's bloody shirt. "He would have busted my ass good..."
"Would have?" Chris cocked his head. Why was Buck talking about Frank Delassi in the past tense? "Buck?"
"Yeah, okay..." Buck brought his head up, looking directly at his boss, "It was quiet, nothing happened in the whole time we were there. It was about quarter to three, I guess, I was in the bathroom when my beeper went off. It was a detective... Baker his name was," Buck paused and took a deep shuddering breath. "Frank... somebody murdered him... tortured him to death... made Grace watch..."
That scattered cluster of words hit the blond like a hail of bullets. It was the last thing he expected to hear. He'd known Frank as long as he knew Buck. He was a fine agent and good man.
"They... he... the cop..." Buck stammered, as the events of the day began to eat at the numbness that engulfed him. "think that it's tied to an old case of ours... Jesus, Chris, you should see what they did to him... it took hours... he suffered... the bastards made her watch."
That's when he broke, the numbness stole away into the darkness and the bitter tears finally fell. He bit his bloody lip and clenched his fists, pounding the ceramic tiles on his kitchen table. Over and over he banged the table, his hands wrapped in Tanner's bloody shirt. The salty tracks ran into his gashed lip, sending a welcome stinging pain into his anguish-racked body.
Instinct and a dozen years of knowing the man made Chris move, his anger now disapated. He rested his hands on Buck's shoulders from behind, squeezing them hard. It was no secret that Buck cared for Frank like a father. He knew the pain that racked his friend and held on, letting the fists pound in frustration, until the head sank down again.
"My God, Buck... I'm sorry." Chris whispered, resting a hand on the back of the sweaty, dark head. Finally, Buck's head came up and he wiped his face on a group of napkins Chris handed him. He took several deep breaths, and watched Chris disappear. A few minutes later, the blond came back, with two glasses and a bottle of Jamison's Irish Whiskey. He took the shot that Chris offered and waited until the other's glass was raised.
"He was a helluva guy..." Chris toasted.
"They don't come finer..." Buck agreed, tossing back the bitter liquid. Chris poured them each another shot and he sipped this one slowly. "I'm sorry, Chris... I'd cut my arm off before I'd let anybody hurt that boy..."
"I know that Buck," Chris sighed, feeling the deep anguish in Buck's repentance, "Josiah tried to tell me that you had a good reason."
"I called your machine and Vin's... tried Josiah and J.D. but the lines were always busy. I didn't want to wake Grace."
"How's she doing?" Chris drew his eyes up.
"Awful." Buck hushed, his red-rimmed eyes painful to look at. "She looked right at me, Chris, she said 'Why Frank?'" Buck sighed, staring at his oldest friend. "I didn't know what to tell her..."
"We'll get him, Buck." Chris vowed, tossing his shot back.
"...them... she said there were two of them... white males... young..." Buck took a deep breath, "I'm gonna find them... and God help them when I do... badge or no badge..."
"Won't get any argument from me," Chris supported. "I have to report it, Buck, I can't let a thing like that go by, Orin and the brass would have my ass. You and Vin will most likely be suspended."
"I deserve it, Chris," Buck admitted, "What happened with Frank... was no excuse. I shouldn't have left him... he could have been killed. I was gonna ask for some time off anyway, to help Grace with the funeral plans." He jerked his hand back, the moisture from his tears caused the maroon bits to cling to his skin. Vin's blood.."How's he doing?"
"They did a little surgery on him to repair some minor damage. He got some blood and he's on an I.V. The Doc said he'd be fine. He couldn't remember much... he thought you were dead..."
"Aw, hell..." Buck winced, see Vin's telltale blue mirrors. "I fucked up good..."
"I'll need a statement, Buck, Kelly was pretty pissed off at the scene," he said of the DEA leader.
"Yeah... I'll stop over in the morning," His head turned towards the doorway as new voices sounded.
"Buck!" J.D. appeared in the dining room, his face flushed from the icy wind outside. "Where the hell were you? I've been worried sick. I even went to the city morgue. Why didn't you call?"
"J.D.." Chris rose and stood in front of Buck, putting his hands up defensively. "Calm down..."
"The hell I will," J.D. was irate and would not be denied. He pushed past Chris and grabbed buck's sweater. "You damn near scared me to death... I thought you were dead."
"I'm sorry, Kid," Buck stared hard into the red faced fury. "I tried calling you, I couldn't get through. Something came up and I had to bolt."
"What the hell was so important that you deserted your partner?" J.D. shoved Buck and moved back a little. "He got stabbed you know... If Danning had a gun..."
"J.D." Chris moved between the two men and tried to calm down the angry young man.
"No, Chris, it's okay..." Buck now saw Josiah's angry face behind J.D.'s irate one. "I deserted them too... I'm sorry Josiah, Kid." Buck paused and took a deep breath, before retelling the awful story. By the time he finished, he was spent, exhaustion written on every feature. Josiah shook his hand, offered his condolances and left. Chris went outside for a minute, giving J.D. some time with his best friend. The youth then departed to pick up his girlfriend Casey at the airport. The pretty law student was coming in from Phoenix. Chris pushed Buck towards the stairs that led to the bedroom.
"Get some sleep. I'll crash in the guest room." Chris supplied.
"You sure?" Buck's voice was a little surprised, something that made Chris wince.
"What's the matter? One of your harem leave an unknown social disease in there?"
"Fuck you, Larabee!" Buck parried weakly and then his eyes caught the photo of himself with Frank and Grace at their last wedding anniversary. His eyes filled with bitterness again and he clenched them shut. He felt Chris embrace him briefly and the leader's words made a solid impact.
"I'm right here, Buck," Chris vowed, thinking of all the years he'd known Frank, "and they're going down.
"Buck swallowed hard and nodded, then retreated up to his bedroom. He shucked his clothes off and slid under the warm, flannel sheets. Cloaked in darkness, he let himself grieve for the man who'd become more than a friend. Tonight he would mourn Frank Delassi, tomorrow he would begin a quest to avenge his death.
The day droned on and he felt like his head was full of mud. The initial report, endless questions, a revised report, more questions, brief snatches of freedom to call Grace. Finally Orin and Kelly were satisified. They had a statement from Vin; J.D. and Josiah were scheduled for the afternoon. Chris had been more than fair, and he was grateful. He didn't condone the events by any means, but Buck felt his silent support. The suspension was fair too, he deserved that. The video was the hardest... watching that knife come up and Vin not seeing it... a few inches difference. He shook off the image and remained at the conference table, totally exhausted. He'd spent a restless night, tossing and turning, yielding little rest. He still had to go over to see Grace. He'd packed a bag, deciding on staying with her until the funeral was over.
Chris walked Orin to the elevator and while the head of the directorate was sympathetic, he had to enforce the rules. They talked for a few minutes, Orin had known Frank well and was sickened by the incident. He was on his way over to see the widow, once he picked up his wife.
"Evie and Grace are good friends. Evie was devastated... " Orin looked up as the doors slid open. "I'll be in touch."
"Thanks Orin," Chris extended his hand. It could have gone much worse. Buck could have been penalized severely. The suspension would give him time to grieve and help Grace. He walked back to the empty meeting room and saw Buck's deep sorrow etched on every feature of his sad face. He winced and drew a deep breath, before flanking him.
"Buck?"
"Huh?" Buck blinked as the hand tapped him.
"I need a favor."
Buck looked up and frowned, "I'm listening."
"Vin's ready to be discharged, I told him I'd swing by. I still have a mountain of paperwork to do..."
"You're a lousy liar, Larabee," Buck relayed as he stood, "That's why you're a desk jockey."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," Buck took a deep breath. Vin had been on his mind throughout the day. He wanted to see him, needed to hear the soft drawl of 'Aw hell, Bucklin'. He smiled as the echo played in his head. Chris knew it too, 'paperwork my ass' he thought. "Thanks, Chris... I won't let you down again." He vowed, shaking his oldest friend's hand.
"That's enough for me," Chris replied, tossing the pained figure a half-grin, "Wilmington's word is good as done."
"Damn right!" Buck laughed weakly, heading for the elevator.
Buck paused outside the doorway, studying Vin Tanner, who was half-dressed. The Texan's lunch tray was untouched, save the cola, which was in the trash. His boots and jeans were on, but his chest was bare. He was nodding thoughtfully as a doctor warned him about his downtime, rest and recovery.
"I hear ya, no call t'get huffy..." Vin protested, wincing as he raised his arm so the old dressing could be removed. "Ya think I was a child or somethin' the way ya carry on so..."
"History is on my side, Handsome." the slender hand patted Tanner's scowling face.
Buck smiled at Rain Jackson's comment as the pretty doctor moved aside. Buck's smile faded when he saw the horrid slash on Vin's side as the fresh dressing was applied. He heard Vin's intake of breath as the slender fingers of the physician traced his ribs.
"Damn yer hands is cold." Vin complained, scowling again.
"I iced them up just for you," Rain teased, patting his cheek again as she eased his shirt on. "You're so cute when you get mad."
"I think yer confusin' me with Nate."
"No way, Sweetie," she helped him off the bed, watching him carefully button up. "He's cute all the time... especially in the hot tub..." She teased, leading him to a tall chair by the window.
"Aw, hell..." Vin wrinkled his nose and complained, "If that ain't a fetchin' picture, Nate naked and wet... damn..."
"You hush up!" Rain smacked his sleeve and saw Buck's pale face. "Sit down, Vin, I'll bring you a wheelchair." She shook her head as the scowling face started to protest. "No you can't leave without it, yes it's a rule and with all the miles you've put on our wheelchairs, you should know better than to ask."
"Hmmph!" Vin grumbled, "Next thing ya know ye'll be sproutin' blond hair," he noted of her mind reading ability, not unlike Larabee's.
She moved into the hall and embraced Buck. "I'm so sorry, Buck. Nate was very upset. If there's anything we can do..."
"Thanks Rain... I mean that." Buck released her, eyeing the doorway to Tanner's room. "The boy's cranky, that's a good sign."
"He's worried about you, I couldn't get him to touch his lunch," Rain said gently, resting her hand on the handsome face above her, "...and he's not the only one."
"Time heals all wounds, right?" he asked bitterly. "It's such a waste, Rain. Frank for those two animals... shit." He fisted both hands, only to have her unbend one and slide her own into it.
"It gets better, Buck," she said from experience. "When my father was killed. I was full of hate. But having good friends who care about you, surround you with love and support..."
"...and kick your ass when you need it?" Buck thought aloud.
"Yes..." she nodded, squeezing the hand hard. "I'm here, Buck, so is Nate. Josiah, J.D. Ezra, Vin. and especially Chris. If anyone knows about pain, it's that man..."
"Yeah..." Buck dipped his head, "...sorry to dump on you Rain..."
"You hush up, White Boy..." She teased, kissing his cheek and rubbing the mark. "Don't shut us out, Buck."
"Okay," Buck nodded, then found a small smile, "How come he's Handsome and I'm White Boy?"
"We all have our crosses, Honey," she laughed, pointed to the empty wheelchair and made her way down the hall.
Buck pushed the wheelchair into Vin's room and quietly to the side of the bed. Vin was dozing in a tall chair next to the bed. He looked pale and drawn and Buck hated to disturb him. The decision was taken out of his hands, when the phone rang and the blue eyes jerked open. The patient's body lurched and Buck pushed him back.
"Buck!" Vin's eyes widened, while one hand latched onto the flannel shirt sleeve. "Where ya been? Ya alright? Did ya call? I tried t'stay awake... damn painkillers..."
Buck felt a tug inside as the open display of worry in Vin's voice and the concern shining from the pale blue eyes. He rested his hand on the sniper's shoulder and gave a good squeeze, as he picked up the phone.
"Tanner's House of Prostitution."
"Hey..." Vin protested, unsuccessfully swiping at the phone and fighting the strong arm that kept him pinned to the chair. "Cut that out..."
"No Sister, you have the right number. What convent was that? How old? No, that's not to old to become a convert. We got some fine little gals who can teach you the moves."
"Dammit Buck!" Vin wheezed, as his laughter sent pain ripples through his tender side. "Ya tryin' to kill me?" Vin reached up for the phone and saw the horrified look on Buck's face. "Aw, hell, Buck... I didn't mean it like that... Buck?" Vin took the phone and watched as Buck walked to the window, his back to the injured man. "Sometimes ya got shit fer brains, Tanner."
"A characteristic we've been aware of for quite sometime," a Southern drawl echoed.
"Shut up the hell up, Ezra!" Vin shot back, glaring at the phone. "Ezra?" he frowned, staring at the phone. "Ezra!" his voice raised, a smile splitting his face. "Ain't ya supposed t'be in some swanky resort gettin' laid by a French..."
"Ever the gentlemen," Standish smirked on the other end. "There is a rumor circulating that a sizeable amount of your blood was left in Chinatown."
"Don't believe everythin' ya hear." Vin kept his face on Buck's back. "How's Paris?"
"Full of good wine, exquisite cuisine and smartly attired snobs."
"Reckon yer right at home then."
"Smartass!"
"I try," Vin retorted sharply. "Ya comin' back?"
"Sad to say," Ezra relayed, eyeing the evening traffic on the Champs D'Elysees. "Josiah told me about Frank Delassi. How's Buck?"
"Busted up," Vin hushed, feeling the pain rolling off Buck's tense body.
"Furthermore, he mentioned that the dead vermin responsible were drug addicts and most likely it was a random act of violence?"
"Reckon... they ain't sure." Vin didn't want to upset Buck, so he kept the answers neutral. He heard the unusual sound of a long string of Standish curses. "Damn Ez, ya made me right proud."
"Excuse me, I didn't mean for you to hear that."
"Why the hell not?" Vin scowled, "Ya ain't as invisible as ya think, Ez."
"How are you, Vin?"
"A few pints down and a scratch on the door." Vin eased, smiling at the sincerity in Standish's voice. "By the time ya haul yer sorry ass back here with all m'gifts, I'll be right as rain."
"Gifts?" Ezra scoffed, fighting a chuckle, "Surely you jest?"
"Hell no," Vin crowed. "Ya best be haulin' a pack of 'em., bein's as I'm so weak and hurt and all... many, many expensive gifts, 'specially chocolate ones." His eyes moved to the window, when he heard Buck laugh.
"To think that some uneducated souls describe you as 'shy'," Ezra replied, smiling broadly now, "Charisse and Anisette are waiting, Reluctantly, I must bid you adieu."
"Ya got one o'them buy one, get one free hooker deals?"
"Your humor is in worse shape than your dwindling blood supply." Ezra drolled, the gold tooth glinting, "See that you remain intact until I get back to the Continent."
"I'll try," Vin promised, "Hey, Ez, thanks fer callin'... ya didn't hafta bust up yer trilogy."
"Menage a trois..." Ezra corrected and rolled his eyes. "I really must work on your diction."
"Ya stay the hell away from m'diction and any other movin' parts..." Vin tossed back and heard Buck laughing hard at the window.
"Is Buck still there?"
"Yeah, hold on... Ya watch yer back comin' home, Ez." Vin paused, "Leastwise get some o'that expensive insurance at the airport. Ya know that kind the doubles up when ya crash? Ya put m'name at the top o'the list."
"You sentimental fool." Ezra grinned, warming to Vin's voice. The smile faded when Buck got on the phone.
"Only two girls, Ace?" Buck pried, "You're getting old..."
"My monetary limitation is dwindling..." the other defended. "I asked myself 'What would Buck do?' and here I sit penniless, but sated." He smiled as Buck's laugher filled the earpiece.
"Spoken like a true rogue," Buck grinned.
"I was deeply saddened to hear about Frank Delassi's death. He was good man, Buck. A truly decent soul, there are so few among us."
"Thanks, Ezra." Buck paused and the silence made him uncomfortable. "Hey, can't have you gettin' tossed in jail for not payin' the hotel phone bill." Buck rasped. "I gotta get Cinderfella here home before he turns into a pumpkin."
"Yes, it is late," Ezra stood up, seeing Buck's painful face in his mind's eye. "Take comfort in the fact that Frank lives on within you, My Friend, his spirit never shined brighter." He heard a deep exhale of air and a rustling noise.
"Damn, Ezra... What the hell did ya say? Ya took all the air outta Bucklin..." Vin perplexed.
"I merely passed on the fact that Charisse say to tell Mr. Wilmington that young Buck looks just like him."
"Young Buck looks just like him?" Vin repeated. "Bucklin, yer family tree's sproutin' French roots?" He asked and saw Buck's blushing face break into a smile. "See ya, Ez..." Vin hung the phone up and tried to stand up, sucking air through his teeth as a pain shot through his side. He felt an arm brush past and latched on, gripping hard.
"Give you a hand?" Buck's voice dropped as he offered his arm.
"Ya always do, Buck." Vin answered, staring hard at the older man with such intensity it made Buck flinch. "It was my choice, Buck, my doin'... ya got no call t'be wearin' them worry lines."
"I'm sorry, Vin." Buck helped the slender man upright and eased him into the wheelchair. He sighed hard and dropped his head, staring at his hands. He saw the knife again and this time, it went upwards, ripping through Vin's heart. "Shit... I damn near got you killed. Stupid, fuckin' selfish..."
"Shut up!" Vin's sharp tone brought the dark head up and he didn't hide the rage in his blue eyes. "Ya ain't got a selfish bone in yer body. Quit feelin' sorry fer yerself. It's done... I'm fine. The state ya were in... hell... we could both be layin' on a slab."
Buck studied the intensity in the blue-eyed Texas terrier's eyes. He nodded, licked his lips and gathered up Vin's things. He sat on the bed, eyeing the stains on the gray jacket. "It was a bad move... I should have told that detective I'd be over later... I should have..."
"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," Vin snapped, his eyes angry, "It's all bullshit, Buck."
"I keep seein' you in that tape, Vin," Buck shook his head, "A few more inches..."
"Chance we all take, Buck, everyday. I'dda been worryin' about watchin' out fer yer ass and mine... that's a lotta ass to keep track o'" He frowned when Buck didn't grin. "It's done, Buck, leave it be... okay? Ya got more important things t'worry on." He offered his hand and waited and Buck finally took it. "How's Grace?"
"Sedated. Shook the hell up... devastated... He was her world, Vin. I can't believe he's gone." Buck whispered, swallowing his pain. He clenched his eyes shut, took a deep breath and dropped his head. He felt a delicate touch on his shoulder, so light it felt like butterfly wings. The hand traced a pattern, before resting, the tension increased and he felt the gentle tug on his neck.
"He was a good man, ya were lucky t'call him friend," Vin hesitated, groping to find the right words. "I ain't real good with words, Buck... I wish I could say it better... whatever ya need... ya got this..."
"Thanks, Vin," Buck replied, raising his head and taking the hand offered, gripping it tight. "Frank sure got a kick out of you and the Kid."
"Josiah told me the junkies what done it got themselves killed." Vin broke the silence. "Ya still think yer tied inta it somehow?"
"The detective said Grace thought they mentioned my name... but hell, Vin, they're were high as a kite and she was in shock... I don't know... been pissed off at them all day."
"Fer dyin' on ya," Vin assumed, "'afore ya had the chance t'get at 'em... know the feelin', Buck." Vin waited, watching the emotions play on the older man's face. He reached his hand out and laid it on Buck's sleeve, gripping it below the elbow. "Ya remember t'keep the best part o'him with ya... bein' bitter's only gonna eat away at ya... he'd hate that, it weren't his way. Ain't many that come along like Frank. I learned alot from him..."
"Me too," Buck whispered, "It hurts, Vin..."
"I know," Vin hushed, wincing at the unusual forlorn Wilmington face, and the anguished voice, devoid of the high spirits that were his trademark. "What happened t'yer face?" Vin puzzled, noticing the swollen lip, bruised cheek and slightly puffy eye.
"I ran into a wall," Buck replied, touching the lip unconsciously.
Vin furrowed his brows and thought on a conversation he'd had earlier that morning with his best friend. Chris and Orin stopped by to take his statement. Orin departed and the blond deposited a change of clothes. He spoke briefly with the drowsy sniper, before leaving. Vin waded through the bits and pieces and plucked a few out. The clues fell into place: that he'd change clothes at the office, turning off on Pike Street because the highway was backed up, that street wasn't anywhere near the road from Larabee's, but was close to Buck's.
"Goddamn interferin' no-account jackass..." Vin hissed, pounding his fist against the arm of the wheelchair. "I'm gonna kick his ass good fer this. Who the hell does he think he is? He ain't got call t'be poundin' on ya."
"He did and it's done," Buck interrupted, his lips turning up at the Texan's agitated face. "He didn't know about Frank, Vin. All he knew was that I bailed out and left you hanging by your balls." Buck paused and rubbed his weary eyes. "He stood by me today, it could have gone a lot worse...
"Ya sittin' fer awhile?"
"Yeah," Buck nodded, taking a deep breath.
"Reckon I'll be joinin' ya... Chris gave me the score."
"Chris was fair, too fair, maybe. I don't want folks thinkin' he's showin' preference. Kelly was mad as hell." Buck recalled of the sharp-tongued DEA agent.
"Kelly outta look in a fuckin' mirror..." Vin scoffed, squirming painfully in his chair. "Hell, Max Dempsey shot one his own men... Les and Tyler got picked up fer usin'..." He growled defensively of the other agent's men. "I'm thinkin' on givin' him a piece o'my mind... badmouthin' ya like he done..."
"You keep that colorful yapper shut, here?" Buck warned, leaning forward and smiling at the furrowed brows over the angry blue eyes. "Hell, Vin I got you broke in just right. You go bustin' up Kelly and I gotta find me another cuss-spouting, short-tempered, sharpshootin', chocolate-addicted, hockey-playin', blue-eyed, long-haired Texan."
"Ya fergot handsome and lots of endurance..." Vin piped up, as Buck handed him the plastic bag of clothes and pushed the chair out the door. He nodded to Mike, who Rain got to escort them to the exit. The orderly knew the ATF members well and got a kick of the crusty Texan.
"No, I didn't," Buck deadpanned and winced, ruffling Vin's curly hair. "Lots-of-endurance? Keep dreamin', Son."
"Hah!" Vin shot back, raising his face backwards to find Buck. "Shows what ya'll know. I'm just like that pink bunny, ya know 'he keeps goin' and goin'..."
"That's not what the pretty, red-headed gal in the Office of Counsel says. Worst five dollars and five minutes she ever spent."
"Shut the hell up!" Vin laughed, clutching his side, "Ya stay away from her. She's a nice girl, not the kind that yer hooked up with."
"Nice?" Buck wrinkled his nose as the elevator descended. "That's something you use to describe the weather or a birthday cake, not a fine lookin' woman like that. She really knows how to fill out a sweater."
"Sounds like some kind of Lady," Mike's dark face broke into a smile.
"Hell, Mike," Buck eyed the curly head below him and winked at the orderly, "I'd drink her bath water."
"Aw, Jesus, Buck!" Vin gasped painfully, clutching his side as laughter rang through the elevator.
"You okay, down there, Slick?" Buck bent over and saw the blue eyes full of tears from laughter. "Don't go bustin' them stitches... Rain's off duty, you'd likely get Barbara the mad-stitcher..." he said of the nervous intern. "I heard she sews up holes that ain't supposed by closed..."
"Buck... please..." Vin gasped, then clutched his stomach and doubled over, unsuccessfully muffling a cry.
"Aw, Shit, Vin," Buck pushed the chair into the lobby and dropped down, trying to see the face clenched in pain. "I'm sorry..." He rested a broad hand on the smaller man's back. His eyes were drawn to the hand covering the bandage.
"Gotcha!" Vin's head shot up, the smug face smiling triumphantly.
"You'd like to give me a heart attack, wouldn't you?" Buck warned, leaving Mike with the chair to get his car.
"He's something else," Mike complimented, still chuckling at the elevator ride.
"He sure is," Vin replied, watching Buck run for the car.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, then Vin turned to the somber driver. "I seen yer bag," he noted of the gym bag in the back seat, "I'd like t'see her. I get a ride home with Chris later."
"Vin, all kidding aside," Buck said serioiusly, "You lost a lot of blood, you need to rest. There's too many bugs floatin' around. You don't need to be catching anything while your weak."
"Fine," Vin replied, eyeing the snow covered street. "Ice isn't s'bad... reckon I can get there on m'own... course I'm a little dizzy and I haven't eaten..." He planted the bait and waited.
Buck scowled, casting an eye on the smug Texan. "You'd do it too, wouldn't you? Take that damn motorcycle out on the road." He sighed and moved to the right lane. "Alright, but you're not moving off her couch." He saw the smug grin and wanted to swat the smirking face. "Why didn't you eat your lunch?"
"Couldn't," Vin nestled his head against the headrest and shut his eyes. "...m'mind was busy... can't eat when I'm frettin'."
Buck shook his head as that tug gripped his gut again. It only took a few minutes until Vin's mouth parted and the soft breathing became regular. He glanced at the features, now at ease, looking far too young. Twenty minutes later, they were at their destination. He opened the door, bent over the slumbering figure and unclipped the safety belt.
"Musta dozed off..." Vin yawned, turning his body stiffly from the seat. He hesitated a moment, letting the dizziness settle down. "I'm fine... quit fussin'..." he grumbled at the hand hovering near him. He let Buck steady him and then slowly walked to the door.
"Mary," Buck greeted Grace's younger sister, kissing her cheek and ducking inside. "This is Vin Tanner, he's a friend of mine."
"Yes, I recall your name from Grace's letters," she greeted, eyeing the pale young man. "Please come in."
"Buck..."
Vin winced at the frail voice and felt his gut clench when he saw Grace Delassi coming towards them. He watched in amazement as Buck enveloped her into an embrace and she gained an immeasurable amount of strength. Vin allowed himself a small smile, Buck did have that effect on those he loved.
"Vin..." Grace noticed the shy young man standing a few feet behind Buck. She left Buck and moved closer, extending her arms.
"Grace," Vin rasped, eyeing the strangers in the room and feeling his face color. "I... uh... I wanted t'see ya... t'let ya know..." Vin's sentence was cut off when the widow unknowingly embraced him, sending a wave of pain onto his handsome face. His eyes widened and he bit his lip, as he put his arms around her. He saw Buck moving in, worry stamped on his face. "It's okay, Buck..."
"What's this?" Grace saw the plastic band on Vin's wrist. Then she saw the pain in his eyes and how pale he was. "The hospital? Were you hurt?"
"I'm okay..." Vin tried to assure her. He felt the small hand brush his side and pulled away, flinching.
"You're not well..." She worried, feeling the bandage. "What happened?"
Just lost a little blood is all..." Vin was feeling very unsteady and cast a hopeful gaze at Buck. The taller man wasted no time in moving to his shaky friend's side.
"Sit down before you fall down. I'll get you something to eat, then your going to bed." He guided the protesting body to the kitchen and watched Grace bustle into action. He smiled as she clucked her tongue and tore into the now blushing Texan. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter, as Grace piled food onto a plate. The dining room table was laden with food, gifts from the neighbors and many friends the couple had.
"It'd take me two days t'finish all that... I can't..."
"You hush up and eat." Grace scolded him, gripping his chin in her hand, "You made him laugh, Vincenzo..." she paused, her dark eyes filling with tears. "He cared for you... I care... I don't want you to get sick. You eat, you get well, for me, okay?"
Vin swallowed hard and felt his eyes fill as the pretty widow kissed his forehead, resting her hand on his face. "Such eyes..." she caressed his face and sighed, before moving to the coffeemaker.
Buck bit back a smile as Vin's fork poked through the food. He ate some of it, then paused, wrinkling his nose at a group of pasta.
"Problem, Slick?" Buck eased into the vacant chair next to Vin. He stuck a fork into his lasagna and eyed his younger friend's puzzled face.
"What this green stuff?"
"Pesto, it's good, eat it," Buck commanded, spearing a meatball. "Vin..." he warned, seeing the hand sliding toward a large napkin. "You weren't gonna wrap that up and throw it away?"'
"... course not..." Vin stammered, "I was... I needed a napkin is all."
"Uh-huh..." Buck smirked. He finished his own plate and Vin managed to get through most of his. , before Buck saw the blue eyes blinking. "Come on..." He helped Vin stand and led him to the small guest room, off the den. Vin was asleep within minutes of curling up on the bed. Buck pulled the quilt over him and stood watch for a minute. He felt a small tug on his sleeve and smiled down at the pretty widow.
"He'll be okay, yes?"
"Yeah... that boy is as tough as they come." Buck remarked, slipping from the room and into the quiet den.
"How about you, Buck?" Grace sat down on the couch next to Buck, linking her fingers into his and looking at the handsome face. She raised her free hand and rested it against his cheek. "How are you?" His deep sigh and the pain in his eyes, gave her the silent response. She rested her head against the broad shoulder and felt his arm around her. "We'll get through this together, bello ragazzo... We're a good team, no?"
"The best in the west..." Buck choked, feeling the full impact of her tender words 'beautiful boy', "I'll always be here, Grace. You know how I feel..."
"Yes, " she whispered through her tears, "I love you, too."
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