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: I want to thank the kind, generous and understanding editor, aka KET, for effortlessly going through this with her red pen. Thanks Pard, you got no idea how relieved I am to have my 'assets' covered. I am very very grateful, KET, thanks a million.
"It's about damn time!"
Buck smiled at his less than civil roommate and eased his lean body off the bed. The room swayed a bit and he paused before easing his tall frame into the wheelchair. As the chair turned, his dark blue eyes lit up with mischief.
"Wanna race?"
Adam Larabee continued to scowl even as the rogue's dark eyebrows wagged.
"It's not my practice to take advantage of cripples!" He sucked in a breath and eased his own body into a second wheelchair.
"From where I'm sittin'," Buck mused as the pair was wheeled toward the elevator, "you got a lot of nerve callin' the kettle black."
"You've got two new holes," the general noted of the dual wounds on the inner right thigh and shoulder. "A clean break beats a pair..." He tapped the splint supporting his broken ankle.
"Now that's what I call a pair!" Buck winked as the elevator doors opened and a very shapely nurse whose figure left little to the imagination walked past. He heard a chuckle and turned just in time to see the older man's dark eyes crinkle in mirth.
Chihuahua Hospital had been an unintended pit stop. The military chopper had a mechanical problem and they made an emergency landing at Chihuahua airport. The medical center was close by so both men were taken in for treatment.
The General suffered a broken ankle which was stabilized and then splinted. He would need surgery later on once he was back in the States. The bullet in Buck's shoulder was removed and his thigh wound was treated. His right arm was now encased in a sling.
The helicopter crew had efficiently completed repairs and the chopper was now ready to get under way. Most of the team would head home, but Buck and the General were flying to El Paso to be reunited with their missing family and friends.
Finally, they were strapped in and ready to go. Adam Larabee's dark eyes went to the horizon where a dusty image of his blond wife and son rose to greet him.
"Carson!" he barked to the pilot. "Let's get the hell out of here!"
His mother's scent was gone; the light and slightly Oriental floral fragrance that had been dusting his room was replaced by something decidedly male. Something born of perspiration and funk. Something God invented windows for. He wrinkled his nose and turned his face as the dull headache woke up as well.
The low buzz turned into voices. Not just any voices, but voices he needed to hear. He relaxed and exhaled, trying to scare the brain dust away.
"You bums never heard of a shower or cologne?"
"Always pegged you as the Chanel type, boss..." Josiah managed, easing his large frame into the small chair. Remaining on his feet was too painful. There wasn't a place on his body that didn't hurt and it showed.
The reluctant patient peeled an eye open and immediately regretted it. He blinked in confusion at the swollen, discolored and battered mess where J.D. Dunne's face should be.
"Kid?"
"Hey, Chris!"
"...nice face..."
"You want pretty?" The youth moved to allow his partner in crime to be seen. "Now that's pretty!"
"Josiah?" Chris eyed the two marred men and scowled. "...the hell happened?"
"We picked the wrong side of the mountain in Mexico to go camping on." The preacher leaned forward, watching the wheels in Larabee's head turn. "You didn't think we'd let you and Vin have all the fun?"
"Xavier..." Chris guessed and Sanchez nodded. He shot a look to J.D. who nearly dissolved under the still potent glare.
"I'm okay, Chris... some rebels caught up with us..."
Josiah turned to the groggy face and rested one hand on the cotton fabric over Chris's shoulder.
"Sure is good to see that happy face of yours, boss..."
Chris didn't miss the catch in Josiah Sanchez's voice. He took a steadying breath and winced as his injured ribs protested even the slightest movement. He studied each face carefully, seeing the unlikely combination of stress, worry, fatigue and relief. Not to mention Dunne and Sanchez both looked like they got hit by a truck.
"How's Vin?" he croaked, wincing and rubbing his dry throat.
"No change. He's having a difficult time with that fever and his breathing is somewhat impaired. We stayed until they took him for x-rays. We'll return as soon as visiting is permitted again at five..." Ezra offered quietly.
"Shit!" Chris hissed, laying his aching head back on the cool pillow and balling up a fist.
"The fact that you both have returned to the fold with all of your limbs relatively intact and still breathing is nothing short of a miracle." The southerner saw a brief flicker of reflection in Larabee's eyes and received a small nod from the damp blond head.
Nathan moved in then, recognizing the frustration and anticipating the questions that were forming in their leader's head.
"He's fightin', Chris. He's been through Hell. You both have. It's just gonna take him a little while longer. His vitals are holdin' steady and he's not worse. Fever's are strange that way... Once he breaks that hold, he'll pick up again. You'll see."
There was no reply, but the strong gaze that went beyond them to the window told the visitors it wouldn't be alright. Until Vin was over the worst of it and on the road to recovery, Chris Larabee would remain in Hell too.
Nathan moved closer, pouring a cup of water and offering it, along with exceptionally emotive brown eyes. These men had become family to him and nearly losing two members had taken its toll.
"Buy you a drink?" he asked, lifting his lips into a half smile.
"Thanks, Nate."
Chris leaned forward and let the healer give him a drink. He didn't miss the slight tremble in the skilled dark fingers and raised his own hand, steadying it. Their eyes met and he nodded once, completing his drink.
"Sometimes it's good to see those worry lines..." Chris offered, realizing the other man was emotionally overcome.
"I don't need gray hair this young," Nate admitted, taking the cup and then shaking the hand. "But it sure is good to..."
"Yeah..." Chris rescued the broken sentence, allowing Jackson to compose himself. "You okay?" he turned to J.D. who was struggling in the plastic chair.
"Yeah..." the youth replied, then shook his head. "No... you and Vin scared the shit out of me. I thought... we thought... they told us... you died. It was awful." He swallowed hard, averting his gaze.
"John Daniel."
Dunne moved his head up slowly, totally in awe of the deep affection in the tone of that voice. He cocked his head and saw Chris offer his hand. He stood awkwardly, taking the hand and wincing at the weak grip. Chris Larabee was the strongest man he knew. From the time he joined the team, J.D.'s ambition was to be like their tenacious leader. He sought to have that 'holding court' appeal that drew people to Larabee, to be that mentally tough and possess a spirit of discontent that made him constantly strive to find a better way. Too see him so frail, so hurt and weak, was hard.
Then he looked up and saw those eyes. They were unnaturally bright but not from fever. That glint and the reassuring grip came from something else. He felt it course through him just as the pale lips on the sunburned face opened.
"You did one helluva job." Chris paused, watching the flush rise on the young man's face. "I'm proud of you."
"But you don't even know what happened..."
"I know you..." Chris sent back, releasing the hand. "And I thank you."
"We'll fill in all the details later, Chris," Josiah noted, watching the pain-lined face. "But suffice to say, the Lord provided... and your dad's outfit took care of Xavier. He's dead."
"Wait a minute!"
Chris eyed the room, then his brows drew together. Every time he was injured, it was that mustached face he first saw when he came around. "Where's Buck?"
Unless Buck was bound and gagged, or possibly wounded himself, he'd have been squatted in the chair next to the bed. There was only one answer.
"He get hit again?" Chris vaguely recalled the thigh wound the taller man received from a delirious but determined Vin Tanner.
"Yeah, took one in the shoulder," Sanchez added. "He's in a room downstairs. He's doing good."
"What about my dad?"
"Busted his ankle," J.D. supplied.
"Fill me in," Chris demanded, laying back and covering his eyes with his unencumbered arm. The other was attached to an IV.
"Buck and your dad found Xavier and his men. Between the two of them, they took out Xavier and three of his guards. Your dad stepped in a hole that was baited with an animal trap."
"But he's okay!" Nathan answered the flashing green eyes and the hard swallow by the patient. "Just broke his ankle and they're setting it now. He's gonna be your roommate..."
"My mom know?" Chris asked. "I don't want her hearing that on TV..."
"Orrin called her. She's coming over," Ezra answered.
"Of course, by the time Buck gets his ass down here to tell you the story, I'm sure the four men they took out will blossom into about twenty..." Nate laughed.
"...and Buck will have fended them off with his bare hands..." J.D. gushed and saw the blond man find a smile. "From what he said," the youth continued, "after the chopper took you and Vin away, your dad and the rest of his unit scoured the hills looking for Xavier."
"Orrin said Buck also saved your father's life," Ezra provided and saw the leader's smile disappear. "Apparently, after stepping into the hole, the reptilian rebel leader had a knife against your father's throat when our humble rogue split his forehead with a bullet."
Nathan chuckled softly, watching Larabee's facial expressions change. From shock and anger at the outset to pain, disbelief and amazement.
Chris scrubbed his aching face with his hand and took a long drink of water. He set his head gingerly back into the pillows and closed his eyes a moment. As long as he could remember, his father's nearly larger-than-life aura had filled his world. As a boy, he'd wait anxiously until the moment the 'mission' was done. He'd watch for the black government car to pull up and for 'the man' to step out. He could still feel his father's touch, hoisting him in the air as a child.
How great that felt... words couldn't even describe it!
He always came home but the threat loomed in the air during every mission. One day, he just knew that car would pull up and another man would step out. A man with the dreaded words, 'We regret to inform you...' He shook off the pall and blinked, inhaling sharply, while saying a small prayer of thanks. He tapped his heart and nodded, thinking of another 'Father' far above.
"Thank you..."
"Chris?" J.D. moved closer. "You need to rest, we can swap stories later."
"Nathan, can you check on my dad?" he consented, his eyes fighting hard to remain open.
"Sure, Chris."
"Ezra, keep tabs on Vin and make sure none of those press people harass my mother."
Chris saw the conman nod once and turned his half-mast gaze to the other two. "You two get some rest... you look like shit."
"Are you saying I lost my boyish good looks?" Sanchez winked and held the door, letting the others out. He paused and caught the awful mask of disquiet that settled on the sunburned man's face.
"Chris?" He waited for the eyes to open wider and focus. "That boy's tough." He paused and raised the homemade cross around his neck. "Besides, I got an inside connection."
Chris nodded and let his head ease into the pillow. Although the creeping fear nagging at his brain and gnawing his gut wouldn't die until Vin Tanner was out of the danger zone, he felt better. Having his team, his 'brothers' around him was good medicine. As he drifted to sleep, he felt their collective strength surround him like a familiar comforting blanket.
"So there I was bleeding and barely able to stand. We were surrounded and the smell of death was in the air..."
"Death?" Ezra scoffed, eyeing the recovering rogue. "Is that the distinct odor that permeates the air when one soils their pants?"
"Show a little respect," Buck growled, wincing dramatically and sliding his good hand to his sling-encased right arm. "I could be permanently damaged..."
"I thought you drank equally from both hands?" Josiah said straight-faced.
"It ain't drinking that worries me..." the injured man moaned.
"You don't need two hands for that, Buck," J.D. deadpanned, gaining two snorts, a smirk and a chuckle. "What?"
"The voice of experience," Ezra grinned.
"I was leaving a trail of swooning women in my wake when you were busting out of diapers," Buck tossed back. "You're not seasoned yet. You don't know about 'the move'."
"Here we go!" J.D. rolled his hazel eyes dramatically. "Another lesson in Conquering Women 101 by Professor Wilmington."
"That's right!" the mustached man tossed back over the laughter. He thought on his injured arm and frowned. "My right hand is the one that travels and creates the shudders... this could be the most serious blow to the female world since Elvis got married."
"Buck, some of us just ate..." Josiah leveled, holding up his hand.
"Anything new on Vin?" Buck's tone turned somber as Nathan joined them. He'd spoken with Chris on the phone and felt every bit of the internal pain. Tanner was critical and Larabee was scared. Jackson had gone to check with the ICU again. His heart sank when the dark-skinned man's head shook negatively. "Damn..." he sighed, pressing his body back into the pillows.
"His fever's still up, his breathing is worse..." He paused, thinking on the nurse's carefully chosen words over the phone. "It doesn't look good..."
"Well, what are you squattin' in here for?"
Three heads turned at the crack in the normally jovial man's voice. They saw the dark blue eyes darting and one fist crushing the fabric under the blanket. Ezra moved in, pulling at the fist beneath the cotton.
"Don't..."
"We were so close..." Buck managed. "When I think of it now... with a few adjustments, we might have found them sooner."
"What you did was above and beyond the call, my friend, " the southerner stated with quiet awe.
Buck cocked his head sideways and regarded the other man. Then he nodded, brought the hand up and shook the one offered.
"Thanks, Ace..."
"All in a day's work," Ezra sent back with a smile.
"Go on... you're crowdin' me... there's a dozen nurses fightin' to give me a bath..." Buck recovered.
"Bath?" Josiah's brows drew together. "You got a shower right here," he eyed the bathroom.
"Best not to take chances," Buck sunk lower, tugging the blanket up, "with me being so weak and all..."
"I'm gonna be sick..." J.D. shook his head, winked at his best friend and held the door for Ezra.
"Hey, you got my number, right?" Buck noted of the phone. "Either way..."
"We'll be back later," Nathan soothed, "and you know they don't come any tougher than Vin Tanner."
"Enjoy your bath," Josiah grinned, letting the door close.
"Don't let him die..." Buck whispered once he was alone, his fingers on the small cross around his neck while his eyes skirted the ceiling, seeking a higher source.
He was sleeping. She ran her fingers through the pale hair and winced. In her mind's eye, she still saw the little boy with sun-kissed hair whom she tucked into bed every night. Where had the years gone? Still, when he slept, she saw glimpses of that outgoing child who grew to be a man she was so very proud to call her son. She bent and kissed his forehead, then turned to the window.
It was a brilliant sunset. The sky exploded in a burst of orange with crimson and blue shooting waves. She shivered when she thought on how close she'd come to losing both of them this time. She knew she was more than just lucky. Not just to have beaten the odds for so very long, but for having found her perfect soul mate. And ofthat love was born a child. But not just any child, one she knew was special from the first time he glared up at her just a few hours old.
"I'll be loving you, always."
At the first word, her breath caught in her throat. As the rest of the melody tumbled forth, her pulse quickened and her heart began to race. Chills ran up her spine and caused her to shiver and gasp.
"With a love that's true, always..."
She took a ragged breath, raked a trembling hand through her short blond hair and gathered up her jangled nerves. Then she turned and saw his face and lost her heart all over again. Her legs carried her over, propelling her across the room. Those eyes... those magnificent black eyes... drew her like twin coals of fire.
"...dreams will all come true... growing old with you..."
Then she was at his side, sitting on the bed, tears running down her face.
"...not for just an hour... not for just a day... not for just a year..."
Then his hand came up and rested against her wet cheek, one calloused thumb tracing the path of her tears. She gasped audibly at his touch.
"...but always..."
"Adam."
It was the only word her trembling heart allowed her to produce. He kissed her softly, sending a shower of tingles through her body. Then she was in his arms, the one place in the world she claimed as her own.
Four men stood transfixed in the doorway, watching the powerful scene unfold. None of them could speak, each rendered speechless by the moving scene before them.
"Wow!" J.D whispered, wide-eyed at the poignant moment.
"Indeed, Mister Dunne..." Ezra agreed, equally moved. "Well said."
"Could be we should pop in on Vin first," Josiah suggested, winking at Chris inside the room. He knew the Larabees needed some time alone.
"How's our boy?" Adam asked quietly, blissfully unaware of their audience as he briefly tasted the silky texture of her throat before she pulled away.
"Just a little embarrassed..." Chris scowled, but sending a chagrined half-smile to his friends as the door closed.
"Oh, I don't know, son," the older Larabee boasted, intertwining his fingers with his wife's. "This old dog can still teach you young pups a thing or two about romance."
Chris laughed then, letting the glint of pride in those black eyes take all the tension and hell that had been stored up inside his body away.
"Wanna compare scars?" he teased.
"Didn't I teach you never to make a bet you can't win?" Adam bragged, tugging his sheet down.
"NO!" Kate caught his wrist, then her voice trembled and she felt that warm hand grip hers tightly. "I thought ... I'd lost both of you..."
"Hell, Kate," Adam bragged. "I made that boy, put my mark and my name on him. Nobody takes him out, not while I'm drawing a breath."
She leaned in then and kissed him, feeling the familiar slide of his hand against the skin on the small of her back.
"Why in the hell didn't you two get a private room?" Chris groused playfully, eyeing his parents, then he narrowed his green gaze, drilling his father's eyes. "You're not wearing the dew of youth anymore. You might hurt something."
"Hah!" Adam laughed, smacking his wife's leg. "I feel a toast coming on..."
"Hold on." She rose, poured three glasses of water and distributed two.
Sorting through the many qualities that made his son so special, he chose that which shone brightest this day. Adam raised his cup towards his only son.
"The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out and meet it," he quoted of Thucydides, a 5th century historian.
A smile of pride graced his lips as he absorbed his father's words. He thought for several minutes, sorting through the many quotes he knew from the various books he'd read. Then he thought about his own life and choices and the words came. Not words from a celebrated author or poet, or a military leader or a king. His words came from a proud son's heart.
"All I know, from the simple joy of watching the sunrise to the pride I feel when I see the flag, I learned at his feet. From the grace of his mantle and wearing of cloak of courage that is eloquent in its natural ease, the man I hope to become is the one who gave life to me."
Kate felt Adam's grip on her hand intensify as a soft gasp escaped his lips. The dark eyes shimmered lightly and she smiled, turning to her fair-haired son.
"Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair but manifestations of strength and resolution,"Kate quoted Kahlil Gibran.
"She trumped us again, Dad..." Chris lauded quietly.
"Who do you think taught your father about betting?" she teased, then frowned when her son's eyes were painfully seeking shelter from the sun pouring in. She rose and drew the blinds at the window.
"Better?"
"Yeah, thanks, Mom..." He clucked his dry tongue. "You think you can scare up a soda...?"
"Ginger ale?" she asked and got a nod. "Be right back."
"I'll have a Jack Daniels straight up as long as you're buying," Adam tossed with a bold smile.
"One ginger ale and one coke," she added, leaving the room.
As father and son each examined their feelings and thoughts, of what had come so close to being lost, the full weight it hit the younger man hard. His father had crossed half the world to come and find him. How do you thank someone for that? Where do the words come from? Then another face, a small one,blossomed in his mind's eye and whispered the words to him.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?" Hearing a catch in the voice, puzzled, Adam turned and saw the green eyes fill briefly before closing.
"I had a boy once... put a name on him ... Adam Larabee..." Chris's voice cracked. "...finest name I knew..."
"My God!" Adam rasped, hearing a tone of pride he'd never encountered before. "He wore it well, Chris, just like his father." He paused and felt his chest swell. When he was able to speak, he chose the words he'd heard Robert Kennedy deliver of his late brother, John, a passage from Romeo and Juliet.
"When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars. And he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun."
Chris couldn't find any air and wheezed softly in desperation until finally he recovered. He didn't trust his voice. He turned and locked eyes with the man whom he cared so deeply for. Too overcome to speak, he let his wet eyes remain fixed, nodded once and then leaned back into the pillow.
"Sleep, boy, I got your back..."
And he did, filled with a healing power that didn't come from any bottle.
Ezra paused in the doorway briefly before making his way to the bed. He placed his gourmet cinnamon dusted coffee on the bed stand and leaned over the bedrail, examining the pale features carefully.
"Deja-vu, old friend," he said quietly, wincing slightly at how fragile the normally tanned outdoorsman looked. "It would appear neither of us is new at this game. At least this time, you've managed to attain a gown that is more suited to your eyes," he noted of the baggy blue garb. "Usually when I'm bending over these chrome rails, you've donned an unsightly grayish garment."
Vin heard a voice and strained to listen. It was hard. Listening meant you had to pay attention. He hurt so much and he was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. He didn't want voices or anymore prodding and poking to his body. He wanted them all to leave him alone. Yet this voice persisted. It had a smooth tone, like warm honey. He decided to listen. He relaxed. He decided he liked this voice.
"You are in arrears to me for another twenty dollars," Ezra continued, tapping the chilled hand. "It would seem you never get tired of parting with the little currency you seem to attain albeit briefly. Your birthday is still several weeks away and here you are..." he noted of Tanner's foolhardy bet from a few months prior. "Double or nothing if you'll grace me with that choirboy smile and an 'aw, hell, Ez'." He mimicked the drawl and sighed heavily, watching the blanketed chest rise and fall. Vin looked so frail. That was a word he'd never associated with Tanner. He was as tough as they came.
A slow smile gradually spread on his features as he took in the stylish short hair. It was well suited to the fine features, all traces of his part and long tresses were history. It looked almost GQ.
"It may come as a shock to you, but although your natty haircut suits your face and bone structure, I prefer my scruffy Texan." He gave the hand a final tap and settled in the chair, popping the lid of his coffee. "Of course, if you tell anyone, I'll deny it."
He sat in silence for several moments, drinking the strong brew and thinking about his silent friend.
"Josiah and J.D. will be along later, they're moving a little slowly today. Our resident medical expert is quizzing the staff on every detail of what's been done to that scrawny body of yours. You really must eat better... you suffer four times as many colds as the rest of us," he prattled nervously, finally glancing up and eyeing the placid face. "But I guess that being the 'Junk Food King of Denver' comes with a price."
He smiled then and a soft chuckle escaped. A mental image of the groggy, cranky Texan shuffling up the aisle between the agent's desks in the morning appeared. Buck, of course, egged him mercilessly just to get the crusty cursing to start. Josiah would be more subtle but pushing the right buttons nonetheless. Nathan would ease his tall body into the cantina ahead of Vin and purposely dally at the coffee pot, making the caffeine-seeking Texas missile more worked up. J.D. would ramble non-stop. They all timed it so that at the right moment, Vin would explode.
"A morning without the air split by your salty string of curses is like a day without sunshine." He furrowed his brows and inhaled painfully. It was unnerving to see his friend lying so unnaturally still. He cast a glance at the closed lids where those soulful blues should be. "You know, you made me break the rule. I vowed many years ago, when I first began my career, never to let anyone get close and it almost worked." He thought on the unlikely six men who'd become like brothers. "Until I transferred into this rather motley group. I've learned so much from all of them... but none so much as you."
He looked away for a moment, trying to compose himself. How was it that one short-tempered, hockey playing, cranky, cursing chocoholic who was so totally guileless had penetrated the inner Standish sanctum? A place he didn't even allow his mother to touch.
"...and you did it without even trying. To have the ability to render me speechless with one casting of those telltale eyes is quite a feat indeed. I pity the misguided fools who don't look beyond their short sight and long noses," he bristled of those who maligned Vin Tanner due to his informal roots. "... and that is their loss. They haven't been as fortunate as I, the beneficiary of so many of your gifts. Just knowing that eagle eye is watching from above has given me a whole new perspective on the word 'sharpshooter'. But your true gifts are not confined to the arena of justice. Rather, they flourish in here..." he tapped the sleeping man's heart. "I don't think you realize just how very fine your prose is." He swallowed hard and nodded once, lifting the limp hand. "Please don't leave, Vincent, the world is far too short on heroes."
He stood up and moved away then, unaccustomed to the strong emotions that threatened to spill over. His usually staid, composed self was in real danger. He walked to the window, fingered the blinds and eyed the new day, wincing at how harsh the sun seemed to be.
Far beneath the troubled sea Vin drifted in, the silent voyager felt a ripple of change. The smooth, warm tone was gone. He was alone again and he didn't like it. He searched and sought... but couldn't find the voice. He tried hard, pushing and fighting and then the black sea was gone.
"Hmmm..." Ezra turned, hearing an odd sound. It was a cross between a muted moan and a cough. "Vin?"
He froze, seeing two half-mast blue eyes trying to focus. He quickly moved to the bed, leaned over and peered down. He waved his hand in front of the dazed eyes that blinked lazily. Then the brows furrowed and the mouth moved, but no sound came out. One hand flipped up, banging against the bed. He grabbed it and narrowed his eyes.
"What's wrong?" He didn't hide his concern and saw the waxen lips part and the square chin moving. The hand weakly moved within his, trying to grip.
"...no... go..."
"I'll waive my usual fee," he rasped, totally undone by the helpless eyes. "But you must fight back or I'll leave..."
"...please..."
That almost did it. That one word, barely audible and sailing on a hint of a wispy drawl. The eyes were melting him, but he called upon his reserve. It almost made him give in, but he held firm. He pushed his emotions aside and got stern.
"I want your word," he issued with a glare. "Will you fight?"
Vin considered the voice for that's all it was. He couldn't see much else but a peach and brown blur. But the voice was not new; he knew it and needed it. He tried to focus; he didn't want the voice to leave. Was the picture that belonged to the voice locked inside the box in his head? Was it like Chris? Would he ever remember where the key to that box was? He felt himself fading and nearly lost the hand. What was the voice saying? Fight? Yes, he could do that.
"Good man," Ezra soothed, seeing the short-shorn locks bob. He sat back down, picked up his coffee and saw the sun peeking through the blinds. Perhaps it would be a good day after all.
The final seconds were counting down and the crowd was on its feet. Thousands of screaming fans sent their voices high above the ice. Below, a dozen men were battling for the division title. The score was tied and the clock was running down. But one player wasn't moving down the ice with the rest. Rather he was at mid-ice eyeing the locker room.
"Goddammit, Vin, fight!" Chris yelled from his seat. The blue eyes found his above the rest and his heart sank. Total and utter defeat met his scrutinizing gaze. The referee's sharp whistle interrupted him.
"Huh?"
He groaned, eyeing the daylight pouring into the room. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the ringing phone next to the chair the nurses put him in. He reached out and found the receiver.
"Hello."
"Good morning, or I guess I should say good afternoon."
"Orrin?"
"How are you, Chris?"
"Better. Where are you? I can barely hear you."
"I'm at the airport. I'm flying to Washington for a meeting but I'll be back in the morning. I'd like to speak to all of you then. I've arranged for some time in the conference room on your floor."
"What's up?"
"We need to tie up the loose ends and fill in the details. I'm preparing a report about the incident." He paused, watching the clock. "It's just past two and I have to go catch my plane in about twenty minutes. Oh, I heard from the F.B.I today. Eric McClendon has a string of charges facing him. Buck had a little altercation with him in New Mexico, shortly after your disappearance. It caused a ripple and other law enforcement agents and even some civilians contacted the District Attorney about run-ins they had with McClendon."
"Buck's altercation?" Chris paused and heard a long, drawn out exhalation of air.
"Buck got the first call. The state police found his car at that diner. I sent him and Nathan to investigate. Since it was in New Mexico and with federal agents taken by force..."
"Shit!" Chris hissed.
"Precisely. McClendon was in charge of the investigation and botched it up. With Nathan's help, Buck was able to hold it together for awhile. But the day after your plane crashed, those two reporters found Arlee Savage on a road in the mountains. DiTullio had already seen a CNN report about missing Americans and a map of New Mexico. So he called the toll-free number and got the operator to connect him to McClendon. He left a message but McClendon never followed up."
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Chris vented. "That slimy bastard... all that time... wasted.."
"When the word came about the plane wreck, they found charred remains with your badges..." He heard the chuffed breath and paused. "Although we had no DNA evidence, I had to tell the team. Buck... well... Buck took it very hard. Then he found out about McClendon and that message and paid him a visit."
"...and..." Chris's head came up.
"...and he's still in the hospital. You know how 'persuasive' Buck can be when he gets his mind made up. That was about the same time your father called me. He'd gotten a CIA tape of rebel movement and you were in the video. He wanted permission to take Buck with him."
"Good thing he did..."
"Buck's a good soldier. It's his passion that gets in the way."
"Yeah..." Chris choked, thinking on the numerous times the tall man had saved his life without a second thought. He couldn't fathom the depth of pain the other man must have felt, having heard of his demise.
"So, they'll be transferring McClendon to a prison hospital until the arraignment."
"Good. I hope that lock up that arrogant bastard and toss the key away."
"He'll do time," Travis sent back. "How's Vin? I haven't spoken to the nurse since this morning."
"Holding his own. Temp's down. He's pretty weak," Chris recounted of the update he'd gotten a short time prior.
"Keep the faith, Chris. That power you two have is as much responsible for your survival as medical treatment you've been given. He needs you to be strong for him."
"I think you have that backwards, Orrin. Vin's the strong one. He's always been stronger. But I'm gonna try and see him later."
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Safe flight," Chris signed off.
He squirmed in his chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. Leaning one way, his head and leg felt more comfortable but his healing ribs protested painfully. Leaning the other way was easier on his damaged chest and side, but his head ached.
"Damned if I do and damned if I don't..." he mumbled, then scowled as the cotton fabric of the gown under his robe ran up his butt again. "Goddammit!"
"Afternoon, Boss. Problem?" Josiah stepped into the room, glad to see the ailing man sitting up.
"...fuckin' gown ridin' up my ass..."
"Now that's the face I've missed," Nathan grinned, placing a bottle of peach iced tea in front of the blond.
"Thanks." Chris popped the top and took a hearty sip.
"You up to signing autographs?"
"What?" Chris eyed the medic who placed a newspaper on his lap.
Under the headline screaming of the 'miracle rescue' was a grainy picture of a helicopter and a half dozen soldiers escorting two stretchers into the medical building.
"Flip it over," J.D. suggested, sitting on the empty bed. "Where's your dad?"
"...out... somewhere," Chris muttered. "...told my mother he needed to stretch his legs..."
"Is that what they call it now?" Nathan chortled.
"Could be they needed a nice private spot..." Josiah teased and got a mini-glare.
"How old is that file shot?" J.D. grinned.
"It's not that old..." Chris complained, eyeing the likenesses of him and Vin in the paper.
"You're kidding!" Dunne shot back. "That's gotta be like ten years ago. That's okay, Chris," he addressed the green glare. "Lots of guys put on a few pounds when they hit middle age."
"I wouldn't know," Chris sent back. "I'm not middle-aged and unless you want to be saying 'would you like fries with that' instead of 'Freeze ATF' you'd be well advised to keep your comments to yourself."
"Aye, aye..." the team's youngest saluted with a sloppy grin.
"Vin's better." Chris pushed the paper away and picked up his iced tea. "If he keeps it up, they'll put him in here tomorrow after my dad checks out." He paused and eyed his dormant phone. "You sure Buck's number is 6857? I've been trying all morning..."
"He's been on the phone a lot. First the F.B.I called, then Orrin, then the F.B.I. again, then reporters... he finally took it off the hook."
"Tell him to put it back on!" Chris drilled, then raised his eyes. "Orrin talk to any of you?"
"I was in Buck's room when he called," J.D. offered. "We can wait until then to put the pieces of the puzzle together." He thought on the harrowing adventure his two friends shared. "No sense wearing you out today." His keen gaze didn't miss the features beginning to pinch in pain.
"He told me about Buck's run-in with McClendon." The injured man paused, rubbing his eyes. "I never trusted that son-of-a-bitch."
"Yeah... sounds like he'll be making license plates for awhile." Nathan agreed, not missing Chris's discomfort.
"Wish I could have been there..." Chris grunted, sipping his tea. "Orrin said Buck cleaned the floor with his face."
"How about you get some rest," Josiah suggested, "so you don't fall face first into the pizza."
"Is that where Ezra went?" the blond inquired, noticing a missing man.
"He needed some air," Nathan replied, nodding to Josiah. "Chris, how 'bout we adjust you there? You're slipping."
"Yeah..." he agreed, holding out his arms. His two strong friends carefully maneuvered him. "Much better... thanks..." He adjusted his blanket over his leg and eyed Josiah. "Is he alright?"
"No... he spent some time alone with Vin this morning. It shook him up, he offered to get the pizza."
"Go on and rest your eyes." J.D. noticed the green eye squinting and saw the hand with the IV lift twice to rub them. "It'll be awhile until the pies arrive."
"I'm not tired," Chris protested, even as his eyes slid shut. "...well... maybe just for a minute."
Smiling, the two older men each took a chair and settled in. Josiah was aching himself and had spent a restless night. He leaned his head back and rested his own weary body. Nathan pulled the newspaper from Chris's slack fingers and resumed his reading.
"I'm gonna call Casey, I'll use Buck's phone."
"Okay, be back in an hour," Nate eyed his watch, recalling the three p.m. pizza arrival.
"Hello!"
"Mrs. Larabee!" Nathan left Vin's bedside, took the tray in her hands and set it down on the stand over Vin's bed. Then he shook her hand. "It's nice to see you again. It's been a couple years."
"Chris's ranch, a Fourth of July party I believe," she recounted. "How's your lovely wife?"
"She's fine, ma'am..."
"Charmed as usual, my dear lady," Ezra nodded.
"Mister Standish, ever so civil," she smiled, then eyed the bed. "How's my boy?"
They exchanged a smile behind her back as she went to the bed. The nurses told them how she visited often, speaking softly to Vin and stroking his face. Even though he slept, his body responded and they gave her credit for his improvement.
"He's doin' better. His fever's down to 100 and his breathin's much better. He's in and out still..." Nathan updated.
"I saw the dinner trays coming, I thought I'd try and give him some broth..."
"He's in good hands," Ezra noted. "Shall we, Nathan?"
"Yeah, it's been a long day and I want to check on J.D. and Josiah. Them two don't know what the word 'rest' means. Ma'am..."
"See you soon," she waved and pushed the button, moving the upper part of the bed up a little bit. "Vin? Wake up, son..." She tapped his face lightly and saw the light brown brows furrow. A scowl formed and she took the square chin in her hand. "Don't you curse at me, young man."
She was back. She smelled good, like fresh flowers and soft rain. He breathed as deep as his injured ribs would allow and sighed in contentment. He felt the soft tap on his cheek and forced his heavy eyes open.
"...m'tired..."
"You can sleep later. You need to eat. I've got some beef broth for you."
"...soda..."
"Apple juice."
"Aw, hell..."
"Excuse me?"
"...sorry... ma'am..." Vin whispered sheepishly, parting his lips for the straw. It tasted like nectar from the hills of Mount Olympus. He drained the whole four ounces and gasped audibly, then burped. "... 'scuse me..."
"That's alright," she smiled, brushing the good side of his short hair. "How do you feel?" She placed the back of her hand on his forehead and smiled. "They took your cooling blanket away. Your fever is coming down nicely."
"...feel like a herd o'buffs was tap dancin' on me with metal cleats..."
"Open up." She eased a spoon in, glad that his eyes were clearer.
"How's Chris, ma'am?" he rasped, blinking at the rising headache. He hoped he wouldn't get sick, not with her taking care of him.
"He's much better and looking forward to seeing you."
"I miss him..." Vin blurted then looked away, his hand groping his chest. He couldn't believe he'd lost it. He felt the void acutely; he needed that medal. It was an undefinable link to something he couldn't see or touch. But he needed to feel it. Now it was gone.
"Vin?" She saw the emotions rising and the eyes darting frantically. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"
"No."
But he was and not from the food. He needed that chain and medallion; it was a part of him. A part of where he belonged. It was a link to his murky past and the key to his unknown future.
She watched his fingers moving and wondered on the odd motion. Nerves? Perhaps. She lifted the lid revealing lemon jello and saw the face scrunch up.
"No thanks, ma'am... don't care fer it..." He saw one sandy eyebrow rise and felt a shimmer of something he knew well. Chris's face flashed before him then, from a place far away. Another hospital room, snow outside the window. He was standing over the bed, the same brow raised. Vin blinked and the image left. Her determined face was still there as was the spoon. "... but I reckon I could learn."
"Good boy..." she coached, guiding the jello inside.
At last the tray was done and she moved it away. She poured the tea and put sugar in it, snapping a lid on and putting a straw in place. He sipped slowly, then one hand moved over hers. He peeped up at her almost shyly and she felt herself blushing.
"What?"
"It's been s'long..." he whispered, squeezing her hand. "I was only a little feller when my ma died. I forgot how good... it... feels..." He tried hard but he couldn't stop a tear from spilling. "I'm sorry..."
"I'm not." She leaned in and brushed the tear from his cheek, drinking in the audible gasp. She rested one hand there and lost herself again in those eyes. "I'm honored. It might have been a short time, but the few years your mother guided you were well spent. She must have been a fine woman to raise such a boy. I'm so glad you found Chris... he finally has the little brother he always wanted."
"Don't, ma'am..." Vin said softly, watching her tears build.
"It's Kate, Vin, and when I get you home, I hope we'll have plenty of time to talk. There's so much I'd like to learn about you."
"Home?" Vin gasped, shuddering visibly. "I don't know... where..."
"Home is here, Vin," she tapped his heart. "That's where Chris is, his father and I, and all your friends. You'll never be lost as long as you can find that place. Okay?"
It was like a supernova exploded inside of him. He drew on that wondrous pulsation of warmth and color. His gaze never left her green eyes and he felt a ripple of emotion rise. She was right. He had Chris; he had family and that was a powerful compass. He wanted to thank her, to tell her just how much she had come to mean to him.
"Ma'am... uh... Kate..." he corrected, his voice shaking badly. He moved his hand, taking hers gently. "I was lost in a storm, unsure and afraid. Then I seen an angel, shinin' with God's grace. She reached out and cradled me, holdin' me close. Her powerful heart chased away the storm and created a rainbow... keepin' me safe."
"Thank you, Vin, that's beautiful," she choked, bending and kissing his cheek. "You rest now, I'll be right here."
She saw the change then and it made her warm inside. He relaxed, a nameless pain that had been hiding in the blue eyes fled the room. He laid back and she moved the bed back down. His hand never left hers. She leaned over the bed, brushing the waves of his hair in a slow motion. She sang an old lullaby that Chris liked as a child. The eyes slid shut, the breathing evened out and she lifted her face to the heavens.
"Thank you," she offered, then thought of another mother whose spirit she felt so strongly. "He's a fine boy... I'll watch out for him now. You rest in peace."
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