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.
There are some places on earth that defy words. The sheer exhilaration that overpowers every sense leaves you speechless and breathless. As if God himself swept His mighty hand over the terrain and bestowed a magnificent aura.
From the silver-tipped mountains that stood against a sky of deep violets and blues, to the brisk river that swept past him and onto the rich, rolling hills behind him, he was humbled. He shut his eyes as the early evening air swept past. He inhaled deeply, letting the magical mist invade his very core. His fingers stroked the silky hair of the Irish Setter content to keep him company. She was a good listener. As if sensing his need, she moved her head and licked his hand.
"Good girl... pretty lady..." he cooed, scrubbing her neck.
A Healing Place.
He paused and eyed the three words he'd written on the top of the new page of his journal. He'd purchased it in town the day before. There was something about a new journal that excited him. Flipping through the empty pages, he felt a desire emerge. Those pale white bodies were starved for food and he was the master chef. He'd filled sixteen pages already, pouring his heart out.
The wind kicked up, sending his growing hair back in the breeze. He tilted his nose, scented the air and detected rain. Reluctantly, he rose, leaving this wonderful place behind. He brushed off his worn jeans and eyed the three words again.
A Healing Place.
"Come on, girl, we gotta make tracks."
The pretty animal thumped her tail, jumping up and playfully hitting him with her paws. She raced ahead, very familiar with the path home.
He tucked the soft leather journal into his jacket and headed back to the house. The short walk took longer due to his healing limbs. As he gingerly made the slow journey back to the house, he thought on his options. It had been nearly six weeks since the date of the crash and four since he'd arrived here. His therapy was nearly done and he had some rough choices to make.
He had to accept the fact that his memory was not returning. Vin paused, steadied himself against a small tree and flexed his legs, trying to dispel the oncoming pins and needles sensation. He pulled out his journal and flipped back four pages to the small list.
Options:
For several hours, that heading remained blank, like his past. What were his options? He didn't know where he came from, so how could he find his way to the future? He knew he loved the outdoors and wrote that down. He loved history; he'd found that out pouring through the General's library. He loved to write, poems and thoughts, ideas and dreams. He jotted that down too.
But it wasn't enough. Inside was a need to fight justice and right the wrongs done. Chris said he'd been a bounty hunter for many years. Vin also knew by the uniform on the man bearing his face in the photo in his room that his father had been in the armed services.
ATF
Three initials. That's all they were now. He'd studied the evidence and the documents that were compiled in Chris's makeshift office. He'd scoured through the blueprints of warehouses, especially those the blond leader stated he'd worked in before. He'd searched and prodded through his mind, poking and stoking embers in every corner.
Nothing.
Not one word of the terms, rules of procedure and all of the other things that composed his world as a federal agent made sense. The things he needed to govern his tenure, the rules by which he was required to conduct himself were now invisible. Could that be rectified? Sure, if he had the ways and means of doing it the hard way.
School.
That opened an ugly can of worms. They wiggled and squirmed, spilling over in his gut. Books, studying, writing essays, passing tests and giving oral reviews. Thick manuals to be memorized and only the very best cut the grade. He furrowed his brow, seeking an answer. He debated himself, reasoning back that he must have done this before, he as an ATF agent. If that was so, why did the whole idea of books and school cause such a pain?
He was good. Even without Chris's words, he had a gut feeling about that. His fingers itched to hold that rifle against his cheek. What he knew, the tools of his trade, didn't come from books, wasn't learned in a classroom. His gut told him that and he trusted it.
He slid his hand into the pocket of the denim jacket and brought out the worn harmonica. He ran it under his nose, inhaling the metallic residue. He hissed in pain as Virginia slipped away and he stood in the cold night of a New Mexico desert. He closed his eyes and felt his grandfather's hand on his shoulder. Vin held his breath, felt the power of the man course through him. He felt his fears dissolve and his pride grow.
Then it was gone.
"Don't... go...." he whispered, clenching his eyes and the mouth organ.
Nothing.
The shards that sprang from his locked box were painful as they ripped into his tender soul. Was it better to just not remember anything? The dreams, both in day and eve, brought nothing but pain. Oftentimes, the nightmares left him weak and his skull throbbing. Then he'd be so blue, totally wiped out by not being able to hold the image. Like a flickering picture on an old Sylvania television, it flipped endlessly, not allowing the eye to see the image. He carefully replaced the harmonica and rubbed his throbbing eyes.
He paused at the top of the knoll and through the trees, cast his eyes upon the beautiful home. He sat on a rock, resting his tender back. The small boy inside peeked out through those magnificent blue orbs and he was transported back in time. It was 1863 and the Union Army was in a firefight with a tough bunch of Rebs. Bullets flew through the air that was thick with the scent of gunpowder and smoke. The screams of the wounded and dying caused his ears to flinch. He saw them spread out on their bellies, behind rocks and trees, using their weapons.
Vin blinked and the hazy curtain closed, taking the ghost away... for now. He felt the dog's cold nose nudge his hand and he gave her neck a pat. Then the endearing animal lifted her head to kiss his face. He gave her a hug and patted her side. Taking a deep breath, he rose and walked very slowly down the hill and towards the familiar path. This place, this healing place had become home. The warmth of love that radiated through the historic home was like floating in a warm sea. It started with Kate, the mother, the giver of life. Adam was a strong man, the father, shaper of dreams. Of that union, came the gift.
Chris.
There was no definition that would suit. No words that could script what he felt every time he held that intense green gaze. Those cool eyes burned away his fears, calmed his turmoil and solidified his soul. The first weeks spent here, he'd been fragile and unsure. He'd lashed out time and time again, but the rock held firm.
Now he had to be strong for Chris. In a couple of weeks, the cast would come off. A brace would replace it and then intense therapy would start. Painful sessions that would leave his friend worn and frustrated. He hadn't said much, but Vin knew he was worried. The fracture had been bad, and in order to get full motion back, weeks of intense work — grueling sessions- were ahead. Now, it was his time to be there for Chris, to be his rock.
"Vin?"
"Evenin', General!" Vin nodded to the man who was sitting outside, sipping a cup of coffee with Maggie yelping and leaping by his side.
"Was about to send out the cavalry to find you, son."
"Sorry!" Vin eyed the clock through the kitchen window. It was almost seven and dinner was late. Kate was working overtime and Chris was in Washington, meeting with Orin and Paul Webber, the Deputy Director of the ATF. "Didn't mean t'hold up the vittles."
"That's okay, son. Sit down a minute." The dark eyes didn't miss the pain etched on the fine features. "She calls to you, huh?" he nodded towards the lake beyond the hills.
"Yeah, it sure is pretty out there," Vin agreed, settling on the bench. "Didn't realize how late it was. I got t'scratchin' in m'book and lost track..."
"No harm done." Adam patted his knee. "Chris tells me you're a very gifted poet."
"Don't know 'bout gifted," the Texan smiled shyly and eyed the dark blue sky. "I see pictures in my head and jest write 'em down."
"That's a gift," Adam nodded. "Those 'pictures' of yours mean a lot to my son. He told me your words can move him."
"So can Josiah's chili," Vin laughed, then cocked his head. "Hey, I remembered that! Hey!"
"Good for you! See how something small can be the key to open your lost memories? Don't give up."
"I ain't givin' up, sir," Vin said calmly. "But Chris told me, I need t'see the whole picture. I might not git my box open. So if I want t'keep my job... I'll have to start all over..."
Adam turned at the dejected catch in the soft drawl and saw doubt cropping up.
"You're young, Vin, and strong. Once you're completely healed, you can try. You have to if it's what you want. I know the training is rigorous but..."
"Ain't the trainin' what worries me, I can do that. It's them damned tests. I ain't much fer book learnin'. Them manuals is thick and rules and regs... thousands of 'em. I don't know if I got it in me t'do that.."
"Vin, you may be a lot of things, but you're not a quitter. Chris wouldn't have hired you. That much I do know. My son only picks the best. I taught him that, never settle for seconds."
"Thanks," Vin smiled, hearing Chris's tone in the older man's voice. "Reckon ya learned him a lot. Seems to me I oughta be thankin' ya. He got me through that River o'Fire in Mexico. He had faith in me... even when I doubted m'self. He never did."
They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the night air. The night creatures called out, their songs creating music on the cool breeze. Adam was just about to suggest they go inside and eat when that soft drawl tickled his ears.
"The wind carries yer song, yer spirit echoes through the silence. I breathe it in and exalt in the wondrous rapture ye've bestowed upon me. In rage and fear, in peace and prayer, in laughter and sorrow, ya paint my soul. With colors rich and alive, so pure they blind me, yer glorious song restores my spirit," Vin whispered in awe. "The eagle swoops down through the snowcapped mountains and o'er the blue streams. His wings broad and strong, his eyes clear and green. He soars down the hillsides and through the majestic canyons, burstin' forth through thunder and spillin' free in a healin' rain. It awes me... this gift o'm'heart. Yer m'brother in spirit who's freed m'bound soul."
"My God!"
The older man's shocked voice brought a sly grin to the younger one. He peeked over and widened his smile.
"Naw, jest Vin," he shifted. "I wrote that fer Chris. It was the first thing I wrote in m'book last night."
"It's beautiful, Vin," Adam paused. "I have a favor. I think Mrs. Larabee would love to hear that. She loves beauty in all things, art, music and words. I think she'd be honored if you shared that with her."
"Mebbe I'll scratch it out fer 'er... put it on one of them fancy papers in the desk upstairs."
"Sounds like a plan!" Adam slapped the leg again. "But first, you have chores to do."
"Chores!" Vin's voice rose.
"Chores!" Adam repeated, gingerly rising and getting his crutches. "Beginning with dinner. So get your lyrical ass inside and cook, boy."
"Yes, sir!" Vin laughed, heading for the door with Maggie scampering in ahead of him.
Thirty minutes later, Adam was dozing in the recliner chair with ESPN on in the background when a light tap interrupted his snooze. He frowned, pulled away and continued his nap.
"Sir... uh... General..." Vin waited, but the body didn't move. "Mister... uh... Adam..." Vin tapped thelean body but the scowl only deepened. "Hell," he sighed, tapping the arm yet again. "Sir...?"
"What!" Adam bellowed, sending the would-be chef three feet back. Maggie lifted her head from her spot on the sofa, then dropped it back down, content to snooze.
"Damn..." he shivered. "I thought Chris was bad... Dinner's ready."
By the time Adam got into the kitchen, he was greeted by a wonderful aroma.
"Something smells great!" He eased himself down at the table. "Doesn't smell like hamburgers."
"No ,sir. It's Pizza Soup. Old family recipe..."
"Old family?" Adam eyed the tureen that was placed in front of him and hid a smile. "Where'd you get this, son?"
"Dunno... I started gettin' the meat and such out and next thing I knew, I's makin' soup. Musta made if before..." he recalled of the delicious soup. "Kate had all the innerds I needed, b'sides the meat. Smushed up tomatoes, beef broth, 'talian seasonin's, pepper bits and onions, pepperoni..."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Adam hid a smile. "I meant the container."
"Huh?" Vin placed two bowls and two soup spoons down along with a loaf of hot garlic bread. "What container?"
"This," he tapped of the old cream colored tureen with a chip in the top. It had no real value other than it was the first thing Kate bought when they had gotten married. She'd paid about twenty-five cents for it at a church sale. It had been sitting on top of the refrigerator for years.
"Oh... I figgered it'd be easier if I loaded all the soup in somethin' and toted it over. Iced tea, sir?"
"Fine," he smirked, waiting for the slow moving young man to return. "How's your back?"
"It's sassin' me a bit, but I got pills upstairs somewheres... reckon I'll pop 'em once I eat."
"Good." Adam lifted the lid on the ceramic tureen and frowned. He fingered the chip and watched the blue eyes widen. "Hmmm... that's a damn shame..."
"Aw, hell..." Vin rasped, leaning over the table. His right hand shot out, slim fingers tracing the large chip at the top of the rim. "I'm sorry... how'd that git there? I was real careful."
"It belonged to Martha you know," he said with a straight face, ladling two hefty dips of the tempting soup. "Vin, this smells great!"
"Martha who?" Vin asked, watching his appetite flee the room.
"Washington," Adam deadpanned. "Pass the grated cheese..."
"Huh?" Vin squeaked, his stomach lurching.
"Cheese."
"Washington. Like George?"
"Her husband." The dark-eyed trickster kept the ruse up. Keeping the grin off his face was hard. The poor guest looked like a rat caught in a trap.He sunk down in his seat and his eyes began to dart around. His Adam's apple began to bob and his voice disappeared. "Dig in, son, before I eat it all."
"Reckon my appetite's headed fer the lake 'bout now," Vin managed, swallowing hard. "How much... I mean... can it git fixed?"
"I don't know." Adam took a bite. "Vin, this is great. I wouldn't worry about fixing it, once they're damaged the value plummets."
"Aw, hell..." Vin slumped, his chest constricting.
Adam couldn't contain himself any longer and hid a chuckle behind his napkin. He was about to let the guilt-ridden soul off the hook when the phone rang.
"I'll git it," Vin whispered, shaky legs taking him to the phone."Hel... lo?" He closed his eyes and rubbed them, leaning against the sink. "No, ma'am... we just sat down. I'm fine... well... truth be told, my stomach just slunk out the door. Ain't no easy way t'say this, Kate."
"Whaammf?" Adam muffled over a mouth full of soup. He choked it down and grabbed his iced tea.
"It was an accident and I'll pay fer it, no matter what it costs. I'm really sorry, Kate. I busted a piece o'that soup dish that Martha Washington gave ya... "
"What soup dish?" Kate frowned, putting down her container of yogurt.
"Vin..." Adam began to wave his arms but the younger man was turned away. "Vin... wait...!"
"The one on top o'the fridge. I was real careful, Kate. I didn't know it was one of them fussy pieces that them fuzzlebutts on the PBS talk 'bout." Vin paused, wondering why Adam was coughing and red-faced.
"Vin, I don't know what..." Kate paused, smelling a rat as the wavering, guilt-ridden voice continued. She could just imagine those large blue saucers and the panic-stricken face.
"It might take a while fer me t'pay it all off, but ya got m'word. I'm awful sorry, Kate. I feel like I'm totin' buckshot in my gut."
"Honey, listen to me," Kate said sternly. "I don't have anything that belonged to Martha Washington. I paid a quarter for that tureen at a flea market long before you were born. That chip came with it."
"What?" Vin's head popped up and his stomach crept back across the floor and up his leg.
"It's junk, Vin. It's got sentimental value but little else. Can you put the crippled rat on the phone, please?" she demanded.
"Sure, hold on." Vin crossed the floor, thrusting the phone out and smiling evilly. "She's riled up but good."
"Uh... I can explain, honey..."
"Don't you honey me! How could you...?"
"Aw, hell, Kate, I was having some fun with the boy!" Adam bristled, watching Vin Tanner gloat.
Vin ladled himself out a full bowl and tore off a hunk of garlic bread. He nearly choked himself when the phone suddenly flew several inches away from the wincing husband's ear.
"Now, Kate..." Adam pleaded. "I was just gonna tell him when you called." He paused, then sat up straight. "What do you mean?"
"I think you heard me clear enough!" Kate replied. "Maybe you can call 'Martha'... I'm sure she'll be free. You can return her tureen..."
"Aw, hell, Kate, it's Friday. I've been waiting all week." His disgruntled face looked up when his dining companion began to laugh. "Something funny?"
"No, sir."
"Okay, okay..." Adam winced. "What happened to your sense of humor?" he scowled. "It was so funny! You should have seen his face."
Vin continued to chuckle all through the rest of the one-sided call, easily 'hearing' between the lines. The General might wear the stars and bars, but Kate Larabee ruled this roost, that was for sure. He took the phone and hung it up, enjoying the egg now so elegantly draped on the older man's face.
"Sounds like the boys is in fer a long night."
"Truer words were never spoken," Adam lamented of his fate. "Listen, Vin, I've been thinking. How about Monday you come to work with me? At the Ops center, we have a world-class firearms training center. You can start in the fundamental arena with the handguns, move up to marksmanship and world-class sniper drills, judgmental alley... we'll leave out the survival training."
"Really?" Vin sat up, swallowed his bread and wiped his mouth. "Ye'd do that fer me?"
"Said so, didn't I?"
Adam sounded so much like Chris at that moment, Vin couldn't speak. He blinked several times and remained mute. It was the same pitch as the gruff tone Chris used. The one that always wormed its way into his gut.
"It's time, Vin. You're strong enough for most of the course. No obstacles or harsh physical elements, just the basics. If that goes well, you can visit the forensics training unit and the investigative and behavioral units. We have an excellent crime scene evaluation layout..."
"I don't know what t'say..." Vin sat back stunned.
"Yes, would be a good start," Adam teased. "Where's that fire Chris talks about?"
"Hell, yeah!" Vin nodded with a wide grin.
Vin cleaned up and went upstairs, taking a hot shower and his pain medications. He slid into a clean sweat suit and socks, then headed back downstairs. He heard a familiar voice as he entered the den.
"Field of Dreams," Adam stated, watching Vin's face. "There's cake left from last night if you want some."
"Yeah, sounds good. Coffee?"
"No thanks, Vin, I'm fine. Help yourself."
Several times during the movie, Adam noticed how silent Vin was. He didn't move an inch which was highly unusual. Normally, the wiggling fidget switched chairs several times, ending up on the couch, after both he and Chris threatened to tie the younger man down. But tonight he'd not moved at all, not in the hour since he'd arrived.
"You okay, Vin?" he asked, wondering about the large amount of chocolate cake he'd eaten.
"Yeah..." Vin managed, eyes glued to the picture. Over the roar in his ears and the heart gyrating in his chest, the words came. He heard them through a fog, as he always did, with his eyes rimmed with tears. The phone rang, jarring him and he jumped.
"I got it." Adam picked up the cordless and pushed the button. "Vin? Vin?" He craned his neck as the body headed for the kitchen. He heard the door open and shut and then frowned.
"Dad? What's wrong?" Chris asked, rubbing his aching back. He'd be glad to be rid of the heavycast and the sore arms and shoulders that went with it. He was doubly glad to be out of his suitand into sweat shorts and a t-shirt. He turned the news down and waited for his father to answer.
"I'm not sure, nothing maybe," Adam returned. "How'd the meeting go?"
"Good. We got a lot done. Orrin has the committee convinced that we need those funds to do our job better. You want the best, you have to pay for it." He sighed. "What's wrong with Vin?"
"He's been quiet all night. Well, since the movie started. Now he just up and bolted out the door."
"What movie?"
"Field of Dreams, why?" the older Larabee puzzled.
"Shit," Chris hissed, rubbing his aching eyes. It had been a long day and he was exhausted. All he wanted was his pain pills and a soft bed.
"What?"
"Let me guess, it's near the end," Chris recalled of the experience he and the team shared when they viewed the movie at Buck's one night. "Kevin Costner turns to his father and says, 'Hey, Dad, wanna have a catch?"
"How'd you know that?" Adam puzzled.
"Happened the last time too. We were at Buck's. Anybody who's seen that movie... well, that's the scene where you get choked up. Vin lost it... couldn't control himself. Ran off... embarrassed. It took me hours to find him. He didn't talk about it much, but it's tied to his father. Something in that scene rocks him. Is he there? Let me talk to him?"
"Uh?" Adam didn't want Chris to worry, not from that distance. He heard the exhaustion in his son's voice and knew he needed rest. "He's upstairs, Chris, I can't get to him. Can he call you back?"
"Yeah..." Chris yawned, eyeing the bathroom. How could such a small distance seem so great? "I gotta go, Dad. I drank too much coffee," he grunted of his full bladder. "Have Vin call... no matter what time."
"Got it! Goodnight, son."
Adam hung up the phone and got his crutches. He made quick time getting to the door. He flipped the powerful outside lights on and stared across the rolling hills.
"Vin! Vin!" he hollered, moving towards the barn. The large building was empty save the horses. The corral was empty too. Where was he?
"Vin!"
Adam called out again but only the rising wind replied.
The Saloon was crowded; the thirsty patrons were three deep at the bar. Nathan paused in the doorway, using his height to scan above the throng of humanity. He nodded to Casey who was busy taking orders. Then his brown eyes found the others and he ambled over.
"Business is good!" he called out to Inez who gave him a smile. Seems she smiled a lot these days and he knew the answer to that. Buck was pink with bliss most of the time and spent half his days at the pretty tavern owner's apartment.
"Hey, Nate!" J.D. hollered, shoving an overloaded nacho into his mouth.
"Did you get it?" Buck asked, eyeing the package tucked under Nathan's arm.
"Yup, where is he?"
"In the head," Buck nodded to the bathroom.
"Here." Josiah poured a glass of beer for the tired agent. "Take a load off, brother."
"Thanks." Nathan dropped into the seat and took a sip. He slid the gift out and put it on the seat next to him. Then he turned his eyes to Wilmington. "What did the doctor say? How's the arm?"
"Okay," Buck hedged, wearing a small smile that didn't meet his eyes.
Before Nathan could act on that, Ezra reappeared.
"What's this?" He took his seat and moved his glass of wine over. "It's not my birthday."
"Open it," Nathan suggested, then rolled his eyes when Ezra moved several inches back and poked it with a fork. "It ain't gonna bite you."
"Or explode," J.D. added.
"It's not alive," Josiah noted.
"I'm the pretty one," Buck finished, not having a 'quote' to spare.
"A less trustworthy lot I've yet to meet," Ezra stated doubtfully. "Your reputation precedes you."
He carefully slid his fingers under the seam of the silver paper. Inside was a slim box. He shoved the paper aside and opened the lid. He turned the box lengthwise and pushed the tissue aside.
J.D. elbowed Buck when the slow grin started to form. By the time the conman's jade eyes got to the bottom, the gold tooth was glistening.
"Gentlemen," Ezra looked up, tapping his chest. "I'm touched."
"Hell, Ezra," Buck chugged his beer. "We knew that before you got the present."
"Poor Brother Nathan wore himself out finding that for you," Josiah remarked.
"'Poor Brother Nathan'," Jackson lamented, "never wants to see a tee-shirt shop again. Do you know how hard it is to find that shade of gray? Your ass is too fussy."
"I have a reputation to uphold." Ezra held up the long sleeved tee shirt and then examined the label. "Egyptian cotton..."
"Like I said," Nate took a nacho and loaded it with cheese and salsa. "Your southern ass is too fussy. Half of them kids that work in them stores didn't know what the hell I was talking about."
"Thank you, Mister Jackson," Ezra nodded, scanning the charcoal shirt with the long list of over a dozen names on the front. "Ethan... Elroy... Emory... Elmer..." he chuckled, hearing Vin Tanner's drawl in his mind. Each name was in white letters and crossed out. "Ah, my personal favorite, 'Elvis-Earl'.."
"We had an argument about that," Buck said. "I wanted to go separate. Nate said it needed the hyphen."
"Grammatically correct as well." He nodded his chestnut head to the dark-skinned agent. "My deepest gratitude to all of you. I shall wear it in good humor. Speaking of our missing comrades, has anyone heard from them?"
"I talked to Orrin today," Josiah said. "He said Chris did great at the meeting. He blew them away."
"When Chris wants to make a point, he can get very persuasive," Nathan agreed.
"I'll drink to that," Buck said. "Still feels funny, them not being here."
"Yes, there is actually food left unconsumed," Ezra said, eyeing the empty chair where Vin Tanner should have been sitting.
"Ezra, you ain't hardly that good," Nathan grinned. "You miss him too. It's too quiet in the office."
"We need to tape Vin in the morning," J.D. decided. "When he's all cranky and cursing. Then we could play it back when he's out."
While the others discussed some of Vin's more 'colorful' pre-caffeine episodes, Nathan saw that strange look on Buck's face again. He caught the rogue's eye and saw something totally foreign to him - fear. Buck met his gaze and shook his head slightly. Whatever was bothering him, he didn't want it brought up here. Nathan nodded, but made a mental note to corner in later.
He ran.
Pain drove his wobbly legs forward. Invisible demons surrounded him, penetrated his throbbing head. Tears burned his eyes and he stumbled and fell. He curled up, shivering in the harsh wind. It ripped through his shirt and the icy fingers raked across his skin. His wild eyes went around the strange terrain.
Trees.
Long and tall, dark and menacing, they surrounded him. His terrified eyes, wide with fear, darted again around the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn't Texas. He shivered in the cold night air and tried to remember where he was.
Nothing.
What was he doing here? Where was here? Why was he alone? How come he hurt so much? They surrounded him then, the phantoms. They speared him with anxiety, fear and pressure. Then something sailed across the land, carried on the night air.
"Vin!"
Someone was calling him. He wasn't lost! Someone was here... looking for him. Someone needed him. The phantoms heard the call too and scattered, taking the fear away. He stood on unsure feet and turned, listening again.
Hoping.
Praying.
"Vin!"
His choked cry of glee pushed him forward. He followed the wonderous call of his name. He stumbled after the sound. It beckoned him like a beacon from a lighthouse in a dark storm. He tripped over rocks and stumbled. He ran pell-mell, needing to find ...
"Vin!"
"I'm here!" he choked, hissing as a branch hit him in the face and startled him. He kept moving, putting one foot in front of the other.
Then he saw it. His heart hammered, his throat went dry and he cried out again. He went down. He couldn't get up; his legs were numb. Pins and needles began to assault his lower body. So close ... so close... he slumped, then his heart rebounded.
"Vin!"
The voice was desperate, tinged with worry and concern. Somebody needed him! He sucked in his breath and began to crawl. His pained eyes never left the light that burned over the doorway.
Adam closed the door and ran a hand through his dark hair. He sighed heavily and glared at the cast, nearly searing a hole in it. Useless. He felt utterly useless. Vin was lost somewhere and God knows in what state and he could do nothing. His eyes went to the clock, forty -five minutes. He had to get help. He used the crutches to take him to the wall phone in the kitchen. He had his hand on the dial when the door flew open.
"Vin!"
He put the phone down and labored across the room, his anger building out of fear. "Where the Hell have you been? Didn't you hear me calling you? My God, I swear they heard me in Washington..."
His anger dissolved into genuine worry when he saw the lost blue eyes. They were wide and fearful, darting to and fro. He eased himself closer, noting that the dazed young man was on his hands and knees. Sweat poured down the face, clinging to every terrified feature. His breathing was labored and short. He saw a cut over one eye and a bruise forming on the right cheek. Worst of all, the slim body was trembling.
"Vin, can you hear me, son?" he asked quietly, reaching a hand out. Then the face lifted, full of such pain that it nearly tore his heart out.
"Son?"
Vin swallowed hard and looked around. It wasn't fancy like the houses of some of his friends. Base housing never was. But it was clean and warm. It didn't have a mother's touch, but his father tried hard to make up for that. He eyed the small television with the crooked rabbit ears, then his eyes moved to the tiny kitchen where something was overcooked and tossed in the sink. Bandit's dish was empty. At least he ate. A mournful cry and a wet tongue turned his head as his beloved terrier greeted him.
"Hey, boy... hey, Bandit... s'okay, fella... s'okay..."
"Bandit?" Adam frowned as Maggie rained kissed on Vin, her tail wagging in wild abandon. "Maggie!" he commanded and pointed to the den. The dog quickly obeyed. He moved closer and reached out, touching the lost soul's shoulder.
Vin Tanner gasped and pulled back. He was lost in time, in another home built with love. A small base house in Texas. There was another worried father's face peering intently at him. A slim man with short brown hair and wearing his own face. Panic rode hard in the father's eyes. Frantically, blues met fearful ones.
Vin shuddered at the touch and looked up. Everything seemed to be in slow motion and his vision was distorted. He saw such fright in the large blue eyes above him that it scared him. Then he understood. He knew why his father was hollering at him.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Vin. Do you hear me, son? You're all I have left..."
The voice broke then and Vin's resolve did with it. He wept. The tears fell for a mother gone too soon and the man she loved left with a hole in his heart. He lifted his arms up, his eyes pleading and his own heart full.
"I'm sorry, Dad... I'm sorry. Don't be mad. I didn't mean t'put the worry on ya. Please don't cry, Dad. I miss Mama too... I miss her... it hurts... D...d...ad..." he stammered, his heart breaking. "I'm sorry... I love ya, Dad... Don't be mad. I waited... waited fer ya... at the field. I had my glove. We was gonna play catch... remember?... remember, Dad?... I waited... the storm came... I couldn't find... I'm sorry... I messed up... Don't be mad... Dad... please!"
It wasn't bad enough that the voice coming from the man's mouth was that of a young child. It wasn't bad enough that every word hit the General's chest like bullets. It wasn't bad enough that the lost blue eyes were burning a hole inside him. His mind went to the scene in the movie, where Kevin Costner sees his father.
"Hey, Dad, you want to have a catch?"
Whatever happened, long ago on a stormy night in Texas, had forever buried itself in Vin Tanner's mind. Now, the amnesia coupled with the scene from the movie, had sent him back to that time. He was reliving the harrowing event in full color. He wasn't in Virginia; he was in Texas. He was a little boy, lost and afraid. So Adam put his crutches down and braced his weight, slowing easing himself into the chair. Then he put on another man's clothes. A young father left alone all too soon to raise a boy. He tapped the shaking body and held his arms out.
Vin saw his father's arms open and didn't waste any time. He scrambled up and dissolved into them. He let all the pain out, gaining unfathomable strength from the strong voice in his ear and those strong arms that always found him.
"It's okay, son," Adam soothed, rocking the man-child gently, his hand rubbing the back that quaked with sobs. "I'm here. I've got you, Vin. You're safe." Then he thought on the boy's words. A boy trying hard to make up for the hole in his father's heart. He heard the young boy's voice and could see the child's face, wide-eyed and wet. He felt the longing and returned it. "I love you too, son."
Warmth.
He sighed deeply and snuggled. What a wonderful feeling this was. He inhaled deeply and scented a fire burning nearby. Something old and comfortable was covering him. A soothing hand was rubbing his back. His fingers stretched out first, hitting soft silky fur. A soft whimper met his touch and a cold nose nuzzled his hand.
Voices.
He heard them in the background. They came between the strong feelings of safety, home and hearth. Things never to be taken for granted again. He sighed and licked his dry lips, turning his head slightly. He didn't open his eyes yet; he was still floating in the sea of tranquility.
"I didn't know what else to do, Kate."
"I know," she soothed, rubbing his arm.
The call came and was brief. She felt his panic in the words that weren't spoken. The sight that greeted her eyes a moment ago, upon entering the room, stayed with her. Vin was sound asleep, stretched out on his stomach on the sofa. His head was resting on Adam's thigh. An old comforter covered him. Her husband's hand was stroking his back. It was that look on his face, that 'father's love' that she saw so often when Chris was a boy. That was imprinted now as her husband held another man's son.
"Come on, honey," she coached, trying to pry him from his duty.
"I can't," he shook his dark head. "He needs me."
That brought a lump to her throat and tears crested her eyes. There weren't many who were privileged enough to see her husband's many finest qualities. She saw more than most and this was her favorite. The loving guiding force of a father's touch.
"Come on, Adam," she tugged at his arm. "We're both here for him, he's not alone."
"I don't like it," he grumbled but reluctantly inched away. He waited for Kate to lift Vin's head and slip a pillow underneath. Vin only sighed and snuggled, not waking up. His wife kissed the young man's cheek and then turned to him, helping him move to a nearby chair.
Kate sat in his lap, her head on his shoulder. She listened as his voice, wavering at times, recounted the ordeal. He paused briefly, his eyes skirting to Vin Tanner's face, and he squeezed her hand hard.
"You should have heard him, trying so hard..." Adam eyed the relaxed features across the room. "His father... he actually saw him again, as if he were here. He was so frightened. When he said 'I love you, Dad'..."
"I know, honey." She squeezed his hand and felt a swell of pride. The father in him was overwhelming at times. If Vin Tanner was lost in time, he couldn't have picked a better man... father... to guide him home.
"I better call Chris back," Adam sighed. "He called twice and I couldn't get to the phone. He's worried..." His voice broke off when two blue eyes opened and looked at both of them.
Vin eyed the room and sighed again. Then he saw Kate and frowned. She was supposed to be at work. Then he saw those black eyes of Adam Larabee. They were full of emotion and trained right on him. He sat up slowly and coughed, winced and touched his face.
"What... hap...pened?" he croaked.
"How do you feel?" Kate asked, worried that maybe 'young' Vin Tanner was sitting before her.
"I'm okay, Kate, jest tired." He rubbed his face. "My face hurts." He felt the bandage over his eye and frowned. Then he saw the worry in the dark eyes. "Aw, hell... Did I pass out? I'm sorry, sir."
"I'll get you something to drink, Vin." Kate stood up and gave Adam's shoulder a squeeze as she left.
"What do you remember, son?"
"Son?"
Vin gasped and sat back hard, eyes darting frantically. It all came back, whipping into his body like an out of control freight train. The original incident that haunted him still and the movie replayed. He eyed the dark sky and wondered how long he'd been out. Then he remembered stumbling in the door and rambling. He stood up, fisting his hands and moved away from the sofa.
"I'm sorry, sir..."
"Sit down!"
The tone nearly caused Kate to drop the phone. She sat the bottle of Peach Snapple Iced Tea on the counter and heard Chris's voice in the background.
"Mom? What's wrong? Who's Dad talking to? Why's he yelling?" Chris demanded, sitting up on the side of the bed.
"Hold on, Chris..."
"It's high time you stop dragging your chin around. Running never solves anything!" Adam ordered and saw the fists balled up. "You want to win this war, you stand your ground and fight. Get your head up! Don't you dare disrespect me or your father that way!"
"Your father... your father... me or your father... me..."
Vin swallowed hard. It was true. The strong arms that caught him and held him weren't a dream. A father's touch, a father's hand and a father's love. Not his father but another. Strong and sure, that beacon led him home. The words stung his ears and he obeyed. He lifted his head and he turned around.
"That's better. Sit down!" Adam pointed to the sofa. "Now, we're gonna talk this out. I won't have you upsetting Kate that way again."
Kate nearly choked at that and smiled. He wasn't that invisible, not to her. Cradling the cordless phone, she moved into the room, handed Vin his drink and left.
"Mom?" Chris waited. "Talk to me."
"Now what do you remember?" Adam asked, waiting for Vin to get a drink.
"The movie... the part where Kevin Costner asks his Dad to play catch."
"Go on..." Adam saw the slim fingers gripping the bottle hard and the young man's Adam's apple racing up and down. "I've got all night, you take your time, but it ends here."
"I was a little feller, seven or so. It was jest after baseball season started, 'round this time I reckon," Vin paused, painfully drawing up that night. "My dad got tickets fer us t'see a game, minor league, not far. I got mixed up... the dates... he went to school t'git me. I went t'the field where we played catch. Ya see, Thursday was his early day. He'd meet me at the field and we played catch. I loved that..."
Adam waited patiently for Vin was struggling now. Every word was an effort, a difficult memory pulled from a muddied past and uncertain past. The emotive eyes were working overtime. With each troubled breath, the younger man was reaching way down deep. Retrieving information shut away a long time ago. He knew too what those words meant. Often, in the quiet of night, his own mind recalled those moments vividly. Playing catch, fishing and just spending time guiding and molding his own boy. So with every shaky word Vin uttered, Adam was drawn in deeper.
"A storm blew in, black and ugly... winds kicked up. Rain came down s'hard it hurt. I's a little guy, I got scared and ran. I got twisted up in the woods. Thunder was chasin' me and lightnin'," Vin paused, sipped his tea and rubbed his eyes. "I was runnin'... it seemed like ferever... I fell." He paused, taking a good breath. "Some parts is fuzzy. I reckon I must have passed out. I was gone fer hours."
He sat up, put the bottle on the table and dropped his head, rubbing his neck. "Ya see, sir, my Pa got t'school and I wasn't there. He went huntin' fer me. Can't figure out yet how we didn't hook up. Then the storm came, roads was flooded, power went out... the news... they... they... said... two boys drowned..."
"Oh, God!" Adam's worst fear slapped him in the face. Every parent's worst nightmare was getting that call.
"...they didn't find 'em... ya see... river took 'em... he thought... he... until I fell inta the door..." Vin bit his lip and waited, then took several deep breaths. "Only time in m'life... I ever saw him scared. His face... when I came home... his face... Jesus... " he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. Then he lifted his face, seeking forgiveness. "Ya see... it was m'fault. I did that t'him. Put the worry on him... I made him hurt."
"I'm sorry, Vin. That's an awful burden for a little boy to bear. You were a boy, Vin, not a grown man. You got scared and if that storm was as bad as I think it was," he said, knowing the severe storms that blew through that part of the country in spring, "he had every right to be scared. One day, Vin, you'll have a child. From the time you first lay eyes on him until God calls him home, your heart is always full. Losing something that fine, so precious, is the worst kind of pain. I saw my own child grieve and there was nothing I could do to ease his pain."
"Aw, hell..." Vin rasped, recalling Chris telling of his lost wife and child. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Listen, Vin, from what I have seen with my own eyes and from what my son told me, I'd say your father did one helluva job. I can't imagine having that kind of courage, real courage, raising Chris without Kate." He shook his head, dispelling that awful burden. "But he was human, Vin, he bled when he was cut, and nothing cuts deeper that a child's pain. So for a few moments, in that kitchen earlier, I was given the privilege of easing that pain. I felt that power when I held you. I felt the fear leave. That's something that can't be defined or described properly. So maybe, just maybe, you can watch that movie now."
Vin didn't move for several seconds; he didn't dare. It was all he could do to hold his jangled nerves together. One thin thread of humanity was keeping him from dissolving. He closed his eyes and remembered. He remembered his father's handsome face. He remembered his smile and that wonderful laugh. He remembered those arms holding him during nightmares. A strong hand on his shoulder, teaching him how to hold a baseball bat. That hand on his face at night, raking through his hair, and that kiss goodnight.
"I love you, son."
"Dad..." Vin whispered and then suddenly his eyes shot open. "Hey... hey, I remember. I remember him. He taught me baseball and checkers and we bought Bandit together. I remember him... damn... I can see him... hear his voice again."
"Looks like you've taken the first step on the road home, Vin," Adam smiled at the euphoric face.
"Mebbe," Vin agreed, then walked across the room, extending his hand. "But it's sure as hell a comfort t'me, knowing I got somebody there if I stumble."
"These boots," Adam grinned, "are just the right size to kick your ass." He took the hand and struggled to his feet, keeping weight off his ankle. "These hands are just the right size to catch you, if you need it," he promised, embracing the shaken young man.
"Thank you, sir..." Vin managed, totally overwhelmed. He helped the older man resume his seat. "I'm tuckered out, think I'll head up t'bed. Goodnight, sir, and thanks again."
"Anytime, son, it's what father's do," he vowed, watching the young man slowly walk upstairs, Maggie trotting at his heels. "Traitor!" he called out and heard Vin laugh and scrub the dog's head. He turned and saw his bride weeping a few feet away. "Hey, what's that for?"
She moved and sat in his lap, holding his face between her hands. She kissed him softly, then let her eyes linger on every feature on his face.
"You never stand taller, Adam Larabee, than when you cradle the heart of a child," she whispered, having heard most of what he said to Vin. "I love you..." she whispered, kissing him again, deeper this time.
"Does that mean I'm out of the doghouse?" he hoped, eyes twinkling devilishly.
"Sorry, General," she shook her head and chuckled when the face scowled.
"Aw, hell, Kate...!" he growled, then devoured her lips again.
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