Setting: ATF Universe
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.
This story was written for Cin on her birthday. Happy birthday Cin!
Buck blinked and shook his head slowly, as if to clear cobwebs. Dead? No...Chris...he couldn't be gone. While his eyes remained trained on the screen, his ears picked up the audio through Mark Winters phone.
"Check for a pulse..." Evan urged his brother, while keeping a knife Tanner's throat.
"Check for a pulse..." Mark parroted, "Do I look like fuckin' Marcus Welby?"
"Who?" Bobby asked, wrinkling his face.
"Nevermind!" Mark barked, "Give me that compact," he ordered, pointing to a cosmetic case. Bobby ripped one free and handed it over. Mark kept the small mirror in his mouth, as he pressed one hand on the hive-covered, swollen face and the other used to yank the slack blond's mouth open. He then pulled the mirror out and held it over the stilled man's nose and mouth. Minutes went by and no condensation appeared. "He's done..." he slid a hand down the body's chest, his own fingers were stiffened from the cold, but they felt nothing beating below. "Looks like your it, Nature Boy, get on your feet..."
"...move..."
The single word slid through Vin's tense lips and he pushed past Mark, dropping to his knees. It was too real and he felt his guts shredding. His hands trembled violently as they rested a moment on Chris's face.
"...m'sorry Chris..." he whispered, then pulled the buckskin coat over his best friend's face and upper body. He bent over, as if to straighten the corpse out and moved one hand deftly under the tan hide coat. Nimble fingers found the knife and moved it to Chris's waiting hand. He felt one hand move and grip his under the coat. A surge or euphoria shot through him, but his face remained stunned and shocked. He hung his head low, the matted, blood-encrusted hair draped over his face like a veil. But it gave him just enough room to shift his eyes around.
Evan was next to them, the knife in one hand, but his head was turned away, gazing at the flashing lights of police cars up the road. Bobby was bundle of nerves, the gun shifting from hand to hand, eyes going from Evan to the doorway where Mark went. The eldest had gone to the garage next to the store, to find bomb-making material. Now...the time had come and Vin tapped Chris's thigh. With a low growl, he sprung past Evan and using his last ounce of strength, took the baby-faced killer with him. They sailed into a display of canned soup, landing in a river or tin. The first shot Bobby took, went wild, hitting the ceiling. Vin grunted and felt a burst of fire explode in his side, as the second shot found it's mark.
Chris felt Vin's call to arms and moved in unison with the slighter man. As Vin took out the youngest killer, he launched his body at Evan. With his face screwed up in disgust and his lips curling ferally, Chris drove the blade home. He sunk the knife deep in the killer's gut and then gritted his teeth, ripping the weapon upwards. Winters never had a chance, his dead weight pushed both of the them back down. Chris struggled with both the weight of the large body, and seeking to help his comrade. Despite the violent tremors that shock was bringing to his body, he managed to shove the brute aside. That effort cost him all his reserve and he sucked in air greedily, through chattering teeth, as the room swum around. Then the shots rang out and he saw Vin's shocked eyes widen. Then a third shot sounded and the Texan's eyes closed and he collapsed on top of Bobby Winters.
"No..." Chris choked, reaching a single hand out towards the tangle of limbs. He could only see Vin's legs and one hand from this angle. Five bloodied fingers, uncurled and limp. "Vin..." he whispered, surrendering to the cold that engulfed him, the icy sensation had little to do with the shock he body was in, it was a deep freeze...and the sight of those stilled, five bloodied fingers, sent him into a black pool of ice.
For several agonizing seconds, Vin Tanner thought he was dead. Then he realized that both his red-slicked hands were pressing the wrist of the baby-faced killer. He moved his head painfully and saw the dead boy's eyes gazing at the display of homemade baked goods nearby. A sea of relief overcame him. Then he used the little gas he had left to reach his only goal - Chris.
"Chris...Chris..." he grunted, rolling over painfully. "Chris..." he crawled back towards where the unmoving Larabee lay silently. As he reached his best friend and collapse against the wall, he used his last bit of strength to bring the cold body up against his own. Blood and sweat poured from Vin and his breathing was ragged and painful. He tugged and tugged until the damp blond head was tucked under his chin. The leader's back was resting against the sharpshooter's chest. With his crimson-coated left hand, he held the shivering body against his own, grabbing the buckskin coat and pulling over the shocked man's upper body. Between the coat and his own body heat, he held Chris close, hoping to tame the tremors. His right hand still clutched the gun, the sticky fingers gripping it with little force. "...got..yer...back...Cow...boy..." he gasped as a wave of flames erupted in his chest.
"Move...move....move...!" The CO barked, sending a half dozen F.B.I. agents and local police down the road towards the gunshots.
"Not you...you stay here!" he barked to a deaf Buck Wilmington.
Buck brushed past the overweight agent and ran faster than he had since his high school quarterbacking days. He zigzagged over rocks and jumped small bushes, sailing towards the store
"Chris! Vin!" he screamed. "Fuckin' shoot!" He warned, as Mark Winters appeared from the side.
Mark heard the shots and ran through the garage back to the store. The sight of his dead brothers took his common sense from him and he left his back open as a target. He saw Vin Tanner clutching that blond to his chest like a sacred trophy. The battered matted head rose and the gun came with it, wobbling feebly in the weak man's hand.
"You're dead Freak..." he snarled, laughing manically as the bleeding man moved his body to shield his friend's from fire.
Vin heard the gunshot erupting, and braced himself, but no bullets struck. He looked up just in time to see Mark Winters do a macbre dance of the dead, as a dozen bullets struck him. Confusion rained over the wounded agent, as the loss of blood and shock his body was now in, caused him to panic. He saw bodies moving towards them...all with guns. Chris...protect Chris...his mantra became. He raised the gun and tried to shoot, nobody would hurt Larabee, not on his watch.
"Take it easy, Buddy, we're on your side," the lead agent warned, sending an arm up to force the others back and out of harm's way. "Put the gun down...we got Medic's here to help you and your friend."
"You fuck...in'...t...t...touch...'im...I'll kill...kill...ya..." Vin warned the enemy, gripping Chris tighter with his left hand. He blinked against the surreal scene as his vision turned and twisted. He was looking at the distorted faces through a red film. The gun wobbled again and he jerked it up.
"You can't go in there," two agents moved toward the tall, dark man flying towards them.
"He won't hurt me," Buck vowed, "I'm on his ATF team...get out of my way..."
"Okay," the lead agent halted the forward progress. "But you wear a vest...here..." he took his own off and strapped it on the taller man. "Slow and easy...he's in bad shape...we got a helicopter comin', ETA two minutes..."
"Okay, thanks" Buck replied, stepping gingerly into the room. He moved past Mark Winter's corpse and saw Vin's arm rise unsteadily. He felt an inward surge of warmth at the raspy threat Vin issued and his heart clenched at the sight. Chris was nestled backwards against Vin's chest, under Vin's coat. Only the top of the blond hair and a snatch of forehead was visible. "Vin, put the gun gun down now...nobody wants to hurt you. We need to get you to a hospital."
Vin heard some of the words...somebody was calling him by name. He lowered his arm a bit, then panicked, it was a trick. He raised the weapon again at the tall blur that was now kneeling in front of him.
"...don't...touch...I'll...kill..."
"You're too close!" the F.B.I man warned as the tall ATF agent moved in and knelt down in front of the bleeding young man.
"You look like shit, Slick!" Buck tried, making no move to take the wavering gun. He smiled as the lone blue eye able to open, widened and the bloody face rose up towards his. The childlike voice that emerged cut the older man deeply.
"Bucklin..." Vin gasped, peering through the blurry red curtain. "Oh God...he's dead...I tried...I...I...sorry...Bu..."
"Vin!" Buck caught the slim figure as his eye rolled back and he slumped sideways. He gently moved the bleeding body to the ground, cradling his head. One hand snagged out and touched Chris's throat. A pulse was still coursing...he moved aside as a sea of EMT's swarmed over the two injured men.
Funny thing about hospitals, they tend to look the same. Buck stood and stretched his long legs, walking around the private room. He entered the bathroom and splashed water on his face, jerking it upright when he heard a low moan. He dried off and peered through the doorway. Chris Larabee was still covered with splotches, but they were fading. A IV with Benedryl was attached to his arm, which moved in time with the restless head. Buck ambled over and gently kept the hand in place, while waiting for the eyes to focus.
"Welcome back..."
"Buck?" Chris yawned, blinking fuzzily around the strange room. He saw the IV in his hand and frowned. He began to shiver, despite the blanket and watched as his tall friend got a blanket from the closet. "Thanks...Christ I'm cold..." Chris yawned again, shaking his head slightly to try to clear it...something was wrong. His sandy brows drew together as flashes of the event jumped into his mind's eye. One image was burned on his brain...a bloodied hand...a bloodied Tanner hand...a dead man's hand. "Oh..." he sank his head in the pillow and covered his face with his good hand.
"You okay?" Buck saw the color drain from Larabee's face and bent over the bedrail. "Chris? You want me to get the nurse?"
"No..." Chris rasped, his chest gripped in pain, "Where is he?"
"Downstairs...they're not done with him yet." Wilmington noted of the fallen agent who was on the operating table.
"What?" Chris jerked his hand away, anger surging through his body. "What's the matter with you? You know how he hated that...How could you let them do that do him? Jesus Christ, Buck," he repulsed, his stomach swirling at the thought of Vin Tanner gutted like a deer, while some a pathologist and medical students gawked at his organs. "Get out!"
"Wait a minute!" Buck put his hands up defensively, never seeing Larabee so angry. The taut face was livid with anger and the eyes were burning like green coals. "It wasn't like I had choice...they know what they're doing. As soon as they're done with him, I'll..."
"...done with him?" Chris seethed, "He's not a fuckin' piece of meat. He meant something to me Buck...He...God...Vin..." He bit his lip and felt his eyes burning, he gripped the shit with his fists and felt his heart hammering. He began to shiver again and wondered if the cold he felt now would ever leave.
Buck's face screwed up in puzzlement and he tilted his head sligthly, trying to piece the puzzle together. Like a punch from a heavyweight boxer, it hit him...'meant something to me'...'meant' past tense. Chris thought..."Shit...I'm sorry Chris. He's not dead...God, I didn't realize...he's in surgery downstairs. What did you think I meant?"
"Autopsy..." Chris managed, suddenly dizzy and giddy.
"I'd never let anybody cut him," Buck vowed, "You got my word on that," he held his hand out and felt the cold one grip it. "Jesus, you're colder that a witch's tit..."
"Nice Buck," Chris wrinkled his nose and eyed the pitcher nearby. "How 'bout buyin' the next round?" he inquired, "and filling me in..."
"Sure," Buck quickly poured a large cup of ice water and handed it to the thirsty man. "They're a little worried about your blood pressure. You're gonna have to stay a few days for observation. They're checkin' you blood every couple hours and collecting urine for a test, something about histimine's...and you're lungs are a little cloudy..."
"Vin?" Chris gasped, having consumed half of the water.
Buck rubbed the back of his neck and his feature became somber. He shut his eyes for a moment, recalling the harrowing helicopter ride...all the blood pouring out of Vin's chest. "He's a mess...the bastards got him good. His face is all busted up, he's got broken ribs, a concussion, bruised kidneys, cuts all over his chest and he took one in the side..."
"How long?" Chris finally asked.
Buck glanced at his watch, which was approaching six p.m. "It's been about three and half hours...he had internal bleeding, they think it hit something. They were worried about his bowel...that's bad news..."
Chris remained silent for several minutes, absorbing the information. His eyes following the drips of the IV tubing and his mind wandered back to that calm persona. The cool Tanner that kept them alive, the plan that saved their lives.
"You should have seen him, Buck," he said gently, not hiding the pride in his voice. "Talk about cool under pressure...he was amazing. I'd be dead now...he got the EPI stick, got the andrenalin in me...kept me warm, he never lost control. Then those bastards beat him...called him names...taunted him. He barely moved...or talked...every time I lost it, he leveled me out with one stare. He thought of the road to that store, he knew it was a dead end. He thought of the plan..me playing dead...He's one helluva friend."
"Yeah, well I'm glad it worked out," Buck shook his head, "But it damn near killed me...scared ten years outta me. You went limp in his arms...he let out a sound...Hell, it wasn't human...Goddamn sorry-assed Texan..." Buck's voice was clipped. He saw the pride radiating from Chris's eyes and felt himself smile.
"I'll drink to that..." Chris grinned, downing his water.
"When we rushed the store, he was holding us all off with a pistol..." Buck relayed, "Had you clutched to his chest with one hand, waving that gun and spewing threats with the other. "Blood pourin' outta him...damn eyes defiant..."
"That's my boy," Chris choked, getting the vivid picture. "You call the team?"
"Yeah, can't get anybody...Oh, I did get Orrin, he should be here soon. I left messages all over the place."
"How come you're here?" Chris wondered.
"'cause you were here..." Buck's voice was wounded and his eyes showed it.
"I didn't mean it that way, Buck," Chris apologized. "You know I'm grateful. Wouldn't be the same if I ever woke up in a hospital without seeing that damn mustache..." Chris teased and was glad for the grin it brought. "I just thought with Vin in surgery..."
"They're gonna call this line," He nodded at the phone, "Besides, I'm on duty..."
"Duty?" Chris asked.
"You need to be observed, in case you have a reaction."
"How long?"
"Twelve hours or so..."
"Lucky me."
"Not to worry, Stud, I've got some great stories...like the time I saved your hide in that raid in Colorado Springs..."
"Twelve hours..." Chris moaned, sinking back on the pillow, "It's gonna feel like twelve weeks."
"Chris Larabee?" A voice asked from the doorway. "I'm Ted Stevenson of the F.B.I. If you're up to it, I need some questions answered."
J.D. tossed his keys on the table of his apartment and flicked the television on. He was returning from the kitchen, taking a long draw from the beer he'd just snagged. He opened a half-empty bag of potato chips and settled on the couch, rummaging through the newspaper. He had a mouthful of chips, when he noticed a familiar face on CNN.
"Buck!" he choked, spewing gummy chip residue all over the place. He turned the volume up and his jaw dropped, as the reporter continued to speak.
"...still in surgery. From what we were told, he lost a lot of blood and the bullet nicked his kidney. He also sustained broken ribs, a concussion and numerous cuts, abrasions and bruised kidneys. The other injured man, identified as Chris Larabee, also an agent with Denver's ATF, is being treated for anaphylactic shock, a severe allergic reaction to a series of wasp stings to his neck, face and chest. He is listed as stable and is expected to make a full recovery. "
"Denise, was that worried face behind you a friend of the injured agents?" the commentator asked of the file footage taken earlier that afternoon.
"Yes, I was told by Mel Harte, the F.B.I. spokesman, that he is Buck Wilmington. He brought Larabee down to Eagle Nest to visit Tanner. Tanner apparently, had completed a seminar and they were joining him for the weekend. Tanner stumbled upon Carl Winters raping and killing the young woman. The Winters brothers then took both men hostage, leading to the shootout at Avery's General store. The F.B.I. also arrested several of Thomas Winter's men at an airstrip nearby. I'm sure news of losing all four of his sons, won't set well with the drug lord in Mexico."
As she moved closer to Buck, J.D. had recovered and was dialing Ezra. "Turn CNN!" he screamed, "A shootout of some kind in Eagle Nest...Vin and Chris got kidnapped by some gang of killers," he answered the southerner's shocked question. "Taos?" J.D. stammered, seeing the hospital idenified at the bottom of the screen.
"How badly were they injured?" Ezra asked, watching the tape of a blond reporter approaching Buck outside the hospital. The tall agent looked shaken to he core and was with two men who appeared to be F.B.I. agents.
"Chris has anaphylactic shock, he got stung by some wasps. Vin sounded bad...got shot in the side from the sound of it, busted ribs, concussion...Jesus...Ez. What the hell happened? Damn!" he moved to the answering maching, seeing the blinking red light under a pair of gym socks. "Listen, you call Josiah, I'll get a hold of Nate. If we leave now," he eyed the hour of six p.m., we can be there by eleven. Nate'll drive...he's got the most room...okay..."
The other four were in the field all day and came home, without going to the office. Buck probably called them. The first message was from Buck, giving few details, the second was from Nate, having heard his own voicemail message from Orrin Travis, who was flying down to Taos. Within the hour, the quintet was headed south, and J.D. finally got Buck on the phone. Knowing that cell phones are not allowed in hospitals, the youth had the older man paged.
"Buck! We're on the road, we'll be there by eleven with any luck. Any news on Vin?" He asked. "We tried calling the hospital, but they wouldn't tell us anything."
"Hey Kid," Buck wearied, taking the phone at the nurse's station "We just got word from the doctor. Vin's gonna be laid up awhile, but he'll be fine. The bullet nicked his kidney,they have to monitor his renal function and hemoglobin, he lost alot of blood. He'll be in ICU for a few days, then moved to a regular room for about a week. I'll tell you what, from what Chris told the F.B.I., Vin kept his cool...saved both their lives."
"How's Chris?"
"Good. His blood pressure's low and he needs IV treatment...they're gonna keep him a few days. His lungs are a little cloudy and they want to keep an eye on that. I stayed with him while the F.B.I. took his statement in the ER. You should have heard his voice, he was so proud of Vin..."
"We're bustin' up, see you soon," J.D. said, wincing as the static on the line bit his ear.
"Okay, Kid...Orrin just got here, he's in with Chris. Don't worry..."
"I'll be glad when this month is over..." J.D. noted and heard his best friend laugh weakly. "See ya Buck!"
"He twitched," Chris moved forward in his wheelchair, eyeing the pale body on the bed. Vin's face was bruised, battered and swollen. Cuts marred the damaged chest, purple and blue scoring the broken ribs. A foley catheter measured his urine output, the crimson tinge still made Chris wince. Two IV's ran into the stilled body, an arterial line for blood pressure and sampling and as well as an antibiotic cocktail on the other. Oxygen ran into him via a nose cannula. The dull wheeze he produced was complemented by the slight rise of the colorful chest.
Nathan sighed and rose from the chair on the other side of the bed. Vin had been unconscious for almost twenty four hours. The nurse saw signs of Vin stirring an hour before and called up to Chris's room, to update the group gathered there. Once the blond found out, he insisted on being there to reassure Vin. He'd have enough to combat the awful beating and blood loss, Chris didn't want him weighed down with worry.
"He did," the blond insisted, his penetrating gaze fixed on the swollen, purple lids. "There...he did it again!" Chris moved closer and picked up a limp Tanner hand. "Come on Vin...get your eyes open. My ass is hanging out of this damn gown..."
"...ris..." the weak rasp came over the wrinked face, eyes still shut. A cough emerged, causing intense pain and he felt a strong hand holding his. "...God..." he cried, the pain slamming his lower back, side and chest at the same time. Tears ran from his eyes and he felt another hand on his back.
"Easy now, that's gonna hurt for awhile."
"Nate?"
"Right here, Vin," the tall agent bent over the bed, watching the eyes opening. He got a damp cloth and wiped Vin's face. "Come on now...get them blues open..."
A dark blur with teeth finally cleared up to reveal a tired Jackson face. He managed to grin back up at the older man and lifted his hand, taking the one offered. "Hey..."
"Hey yourself!" Nate returned, smiling at the sleepy face. "'bout time you woke up...you've been out of surgery for almost twenty hours." He saw the confused features and filled him in, "You're gonna be fine. You're in Taos in Holy Cross Hospital in the ICU. In addition to that pretty face you're sportin', you got broken ribs, bruised kidneys and the bullet that hit you nicked a kidney."
"Damn..." Vin sucked air and noticed his other hand was missing. He turned his head painfully and saw a pale face nearby. "Chris?" he frowned, trying to recall what happened. What did happen? The woods...a wasp...Chris in shock...He sighed and shook his head. "Ya okay?"
"Thanks to you...you saved my life, Cowboy."
"Yeah?" Vin found a small smile. "Damn I'm dryer than a dead buzzard in July..."
"You want some ice chips?" Nate offered, looking around.
"I'll get them," Chris reached over to the bedstand and got the pitcher. He carefully measured outa spoonful and fed the anxious parted , parched lips. The soft moans of satisfaction gave him a weary smile.
"Thanks..." Vin managed, his eyes fighting to keep open. "...I'm okay...ain't yer ass...should be...bed..."
"They're changing the linens," Chris supplied, fixing Vin's blanket.
"...need t'slap some Depends on yer runnin' ass..." Vin yawned and winced as his back flared up.
"I gotcha..." Chris said, supporting the agonized man with a grip on his hand. "Go on back to sleep, I got your back."
"...always..."
"Count on it," Chris returned, feeling warm again finally.
Vin had been exceptionally quiet all week. After three days in the ICU, he was moved to a private room. Chris was discharged after two days, but remained in Taos to be near his friend. The team came up for the weekend, and were to a man, worried about the lack of Tanner in Vin. Gone were the crusty comments, colorful cursing, snarling retorts, snapping comments, scowling and other Vinnisms. Each tried to push Vin into snapping, but it didn't work. He remained quiet and withdrawn. The others were down the hall, giving the leader a moment alone to address the problem.
"The doctor says you can go home in a couple days..." Chris looked up from the chair he was sitting in. "You're welcome to stay at the ranch. I'll be back on light duty next week, but..."
"Thanks, Chris," Vin said, "sounds good."
"Vin, what you did last week..."
"Ya ain't gotta keep bringin' it up," Vin eyed the other, "Ya thanked me six ways from Tuesday."
"I know Vin, but I'm worried about you. You haven't been the same since the shooting...maybe even before. There's a part of you that's been missing since that accident..." He saw the body jerk and heard the painful intake of air. The slim hands gripped the bedsheets and the eyes grew wide and fearful. "What? Don't hold back on me..." He implored and saw the raw fear shining from the expressive blues. "What are you afraid of?"
"Me..." Vin choked, swallowing hard. "I keep seein' yer head blown off...cause I lost m'temper..."
"Oh Vin..." Chris sighed, raking his short blond hair with an anxious hand. He moved over to the bed and leaned on the rail. "Look at me, Tanner." He waited for the shaggy head to rise. "You can't make yourself into something you're not. You got a temper, that's not gonna change. What did change...and I saw it...on that mountain with those killers...was your self control. You held all the cards...you were incredible Vin...I could have never been that cool. You did it, Vin. You beat that dragon in the Red Zone."
"But what if...I snap out...and...it...I keep seein' yer head..."
"Well maybe now that you talked about your fears, that will go away. I miss you, Cowboy...I want my Tanner back, every fiesty, cantankerous inch of him." He saw the wall come up and knew Vin was done talking. He eyed the clock, nearing eight p.m. Visiting hours were over. "I'll see you tomorrow..." He gave the leg a pat and headed for the door.
"'night Chris..." the voice called out in the dark.
"Goodnight Vin."
"Well?" Josiah asked, watching Chris approach. "That don't look so good..." he noted of the long face.
"I don't know," Chris blew out an air of frustration. "I tried...he's having trouble...he's afraid he'll lose his temper again...keeps thinking about the accident."
"This sounds like a job for the Dynamic Duo," Buck boomed, ambling over to Ezra. "Come on Ace," he hauled the protesting man upright. "We got work to do..."
"Unhand me this instant," the southerner protested, while eyeing Vin's doorway. He suddenly got an evil grin and arched a single eyebrow at the leader.
"I don't want to know!" Chris put up both hands, "Just make sure the Fire Department isn't involved or the bail bondsmen."
"Are sure that thing works?" J.D. whispered, peering out of the bathroom doorway.
"Yeah, we tested it," Buck said of the aroma producing device on a shelf over Vin's head and out of view. "You'll see..."
"Hopefully soon," Ezra winced, "This room was not meant for five men to hibernate in..."
"Shhh!" Nate warned, "He's waking up."
They had set up the room while Vin was in physical rehab. He remained sound asleep since returning, but part one of Buck and Ezra's plan was beginning to rouse the recovering man.
Vin's breathing was deep and even. He was cast in a wonderful dream. He was lost in Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory, in a grove of cocoa trees. He bit the trunks of deep chocolate, picked ripe milk chocolate drops from the laden branches. He dove into a field of white and dark chocolate flowers, inhaling the heady scent. He groaned in ecstasy, giving his hidden friends a good laugh.
"Damn!" Buck whispered, hearing the rapturous moan and seeing the drunken smile the sleeping man wore, "She must be somethin' else..." he interpreted of the dream.
"Not everybody has smut dreams," J.D. whispered.
"Did you say 'wet' dreams?" Buck hissed, "What the hell kinda statement..."
"Would you two shut up!" Chris warned, "That's not what he said..."
"He's waking up!" Nate whispered, causing all the others to converge on the crack in the doro. "Josiah, get your knee outta my butt..."
"That ain't my knee," Josiah chuckled, giving Buck a laugh.
"Buck get your ass outta my face," J.D. shoved the obtrusive thigh.
"Recess is over!" Chris warned of the schoolyard antics.
Vin licked his dry lips and kept breathing deeply. What a heavenly smell. Chocolate, rich and succulant, melting in mouth, the silken texture caressing his tongue. He moaned again and the wolfpack snickered, causing the head wolf to thwack three heads. Vin peeled an eye open and saw a large basket. He pulled himself up in the bed and realized his dream was real. Chocolate...a basket full...in every size, shape and form.
"Damn!" He yelped, ripping off the green plastic covering and ignoring the card. There were truffles and stars, carmel clusters and rounded cherry cordials. "Shit...s'gotta be six or seven pounds..." he marveled, beaming like a thousand watt bulb. Both hands dove into the treasure chest, he let them roll through his fingers, like a drunken pirate. Unbeknownst to him, his childlike wonder was giving his friends a memory they'd never forget. He eyed the confections carefully, before selecting a dark chocolate truffle, dusted with cocoa powder and drizzled with pink. He popped it in his mouth, sank back on his pillow and sighed in contentment. The trip to heaven was short lived. The face wrinkled up, the body shot forward. The eyes grew dark.
"What the hell?" He spat out the remains and eyed the mushy green interior. He clicked his tongue, tasting the residue that remained. "What kind of fucked up chocolate is this?" he clicked again and his face flamed. "Spinach...aw, hell, I swallowed some..."
J.D. and Buck were laughing so hard, they had to bite their hands to keep from exploding. Tears ran down their faces; Ezra was smirking and Nate was fighting hard to control himself. Josiah was smiling warmly and Chris Larabee was relaxing for the first time in several weeks. He recognized that cranky face; it was one his missed the hell out of...it was his Tanner face...and it was home.
"No...no..." Vin's voice rose like a soprano in a tight clench. "...fuck..." he kept biting them and encountering creamy vegtable interiors. Spinach, peppers, carrots, broccoli...all his beloved chocolate ruined. His eyes narrowed and his fists clutched a group of the vegolates into a multi-colored, mushy choco ball. Suddenly a clear picture of the culprit formed. "GODDAMMIT BUCK!" he swore.
"Me?" Buck mouthed silently, tears running down his face from his convulsive laughter, he thwacked Ezra, whose idea it had been. The conman was grinning like a cheshire cat.
"I bet he's laughin' his two-timin', connivin', skirt-chasin', bed-hoppin' ass off somewheres..." Vin ranted, still smelling the heady scent of the forbidden fruit. All those hours of lustful pleasure...ruined. "...I'm gonna fix it so's his nuts will dry up and fall the hell off..."
That was the straw the broke the camel's back and the loud laughter exploded from the bathroom. The door spilled open and the five ATF agents fell into the room. Buck was rolling on the floor, clutching his sides. J.D. wasn't much better. Nate and Josiah were doubled over, even Ezra was chuckling hard. He stared hard at his best friend, who wore a single evil grin.
"It ain't a Goddamn bit funny!" Vin raged, making his 'chocolate' ball larger, it now was bigger than a softball.
"The hell it isn't..." Buck protested.
"Y'all got a fucked up sense o'humor...pickin' on an invalid..."
"Invalid?" Ezra scoffed, "You hardly looked weak and frail when those two nurses were engaging you in physical activity."
"Huh?" J.D. wiped his tearing eyes. "Two...Geez Vin..."
"Now see what ya done!" Vin scowled, "Ya got the Kid's mind in the gutter. They was helpin' me with m'muscles...I was all stiff..."
"Indeed!" Ezra grinned, giving the Texan cause to scowl further.
"I'll bet they were..." Buck laughed, not able to control his mirth.
"Playing doctor?" Chris raised a single eyebrow. "Shame on you, Tanner."
"Ya think that's funny," Vin warned, lifting his heavy, melting, soggy massive weapon. "I'll show ya what's fuckin' funny..."
"Vin, I wouldn't, if I were you..." Chris warned.
"If ya were me, ye'd have more circulation in yer damn legs...it's a wonder ya can take a piss..."
"He's back..." J.D. high-fived Buck as Vin took aim and the others dove for cover.
"Vin..." Chris tried to back up, but wasn't fast enough. "Vin, put that damn thing down."
"Fuck off!" Vin snapped, unloading his missile with deadly precision. "Hah..." he gloated as the gooey, mushed vegtables and chocolate ran down Chris Larabees face. It was in his hair, his collar and part of one ear as well. He didn't say a word, just turned and walked out of the room.
"It was nice knowing you, Slick," Buck warned, hauling J.D. from the floor.
"I'll make sure your service is done tastefully," Josiah grinned and ducked out of the room.
"You're one crazy white boy," Nate shook his head, saluted and left.
"Mr. Tanner," Ezra nodded, "It was a pleasure."
"Can I have your bike?" J.D. asked of Vin's prize motorcycle. He laughed and joined the others. By the time they got to the lobby, Chris emerged from the bathroom by the exit, having cleaned himself off. He saw Ezra and Buck lingering and nodded to the triumphant pair.
"Thanks..."
"We done good, Pard!" Buck slapped the leader's back, relieved to have Tanner back on the team. "You coming with us, we're gonna get bring back some dinner."
"No, I have some work to do..." Larabee noted, with a secret smile.
"That don't look good," Buck shook his head.
Vin yawned and opened his eyes, trying to squint in the dark. He saw a body in the chair next to him and a glint of blond hair.
"Chris?"
"Yeah."
"Why's the lights out?"
"Didn't want to disturb you."
"Oh..." Vin licked his dry mouth. The pizza the gang brought for dinner was spicy and he was dry as a bone. "Hey, Chris...can ya get the light. I'm awful thirsty."
"Sure, Vin..." Chris oozed, standing and turning on a dim light over the patient's head. He smiled smugly behind Vin's back as the blue eyes widened in anticipation. There on the tray in front of him was a quart cup of coke, icy cold and glistening with condensation.
"Aw, hell..." Vin gasped, his mouth salivating. "What the fuck?" he yanked his hands and discovered he was in soft restraints attached to the railing. His ankles were bound as well. "Ya had yer fun...now get me outta this rig...Chris...Chris..."
"You know, it's getting late..." Chris pushed a button on a cassette player over Vin's head on the shelf, he also pushed the aroma maker, sending the rich, chocolate fumes into the room. He then flipped on the television to Lawrence Welk reruns, which were in a marathon on a local station.
"No..." Vin chirped weakly, realzing his fate. "I'm sorry Chris...come on...Chris...No..." he jerked his hands, then his face froze when the familiar song began to play. "I'm gonna kill you!" He roared, jerking his arms unsuccessfully as the first stanza of "American Pie" assaulted him. If there was one song that annoyed the hell out of him, it was this one.
"Payback's a bitch!" Larabee saluted at the door and slipped into the hall. He kept his ear to the door, an his smile lit up the hallway. The cranky, crabby, crusty, cussin', fussin' Tanner was back.
"...gonna fuckin' fry his balls and serve 'em t'the buzzards...Hell, probably give 'em indigestion..." the voice paused, "I knew yer out there...get yer ass in here and fight like a man...Goddammit Chris..." Then there was silence as the song ended on the cassette player, only to start up again. "No!" Vin wailed, trapped in Hell. His feverish eyes went from the icy cold soda just inches from his dry mouth, the polka on the television; the scent of chocolate was overwhelming and Don McLean's voice was like an axe in his head.
"Chris!"
The blond smiled and ambled down the hall, where Buck was waiting. He pushed the elevator button and watched the numbers light up.
"You ain't gonna leave him like that?" Buck worried, "Chris, he could hurt himself."
"Gimme a little credit Buck..."
"How long?"
"The tape's two hours..." Chris laughed.
"Two hours?" Buck chuckled, "He'll be in the psycho ward by then..."
"I'm going down to get the newspaper...ten minutes should do it."
As the elevator opened, they both smiled as a sad voice managed to find it's way through 'the good old boys drinking whiskey and rye'....As the doors slid shut, they heard the Texan's refrain
"...I ain't gonna ferget this Larabee...ya simple son-of-a-bitch..."
"It sure is good to have him back..." Buck mused and noticed the smile plastered on Chris's face. A smile that took him back in time, to the man before the storm.
"Damn straight..." the blond agreed.
THE END
Return to Deirdre's Fic Archive | Return to Lady Angel's Library
