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.
"Ya hungry?"
Chris adjusted his sunglasses and turned his head towards the passenger. Ever since he stepped off the plane, he'd noticed his usually laid back friend was fidgeting. He considered the profile for a moment, wondering what was hiding behind the devilishly blue eyes.
"I could eat."
"Good," Vin sighed, nodding his head to the exit off the interstate. "Get yer ass over..."
"Why? Another half hour we'll be home."
"I got me a hankerin' fer one o'them chocolate shakes at that place..."
"Duke's?" Chris replied, putting his signal on and easing the car into the right lane.
"Yeah... I figure yer packin'," he noted of Larabee's wallet. "All them Lincoln's and such jest itchin' t'bust free."
"You own a wallet, Vin?" Chris teased and shook his head.
Adam moved from the window and walked back into the main room, raising his hands.
"Cut it!" he hollered, silencing the guests. "He's here..."
Chris turned the doorknob, wondering why Vin was lagging behind. The younger man was a half step behind him, dawdling.
"Christ, Vin, that wigglin' ass of yours damn near wore a hole in my seat. What..."
"SURPRISE!"
"Shit!"
Vin laughed and yelped in pain at the same time when the flushed-faced blond backed out of the diner and right into his sling. He wagged his eyebrows when the startled green eyes met his own teasing blues. He aimed his hand like a gun and pulled the trigger.
"Gotcha!"
"What the hell is this?"
"Fer a team leader, yer a little short on the uptake. It's yer party."
"It's not my birthday..."
"Jest git movin'... folks is waitin'... some of us is damn near starved..."
"You ate pizza in the car..." Chris protested as he was shoved through the door.
"You still backpedal pretty good, Larabee!!
"Billy!" Chris boomed, accepting the hearty handshake and pat on the back from the former offensive lineman. He couldn't help but be shocked at the lack of reddish curls the grinning Scotsman had been known for. "Chrome dome?"
"Yeah, my wife's idea. It started to thin out and she said it'd look better this way."
"Hey, I hope you didn't come empty? You still owe me thirty bucks from that rafting trip fourth of July..."
"I paid you, Taylor." Chris took the dark-haired man's hand and pumped it. "You were too drunk to notice. God, it's good to see you. What's it been?"
"Ten years since the last reunion." He flipped his wallet out, taking out a timeworn photo. "Remember this?"
"Do I?" Chris yelled over the music, eyeing the photo taken of the team celebrating their state championship their senior year. "What a night... God, what a night..." He saw something else in the wallet, a badge. "SFPD?"
"San Francisco�s finest," Mike Taylor grinned. "Just got my gold shield a year ago."
"Man, your white ass still looks too skinny..."
"You don't have the right tools, Tyler, and the ladies like my ass just fine." Chris turned and caught a hard slap on the back from the six-foot six running back. "ESPN says you're retiring, that true?"
"Hell, no..." the Atlanta Falcons star replied. "Too many tails to catch..."
"Still a hound, huh?" Chris laughed, eyeing the handsome black man. "I can't believe it... everybody came."
"We're not here for you, Larabee," a voice called out. "Nick threatened to have his cousin Vito break a few legs if we didn't show up."
"Shut up, Steve!" Nick popped his friend and made his way through the semi-circle. "How 'bout showin' the host a little love, huh? Man, look at you... GQ all the way. Chicks dig that 'Clint Eastwood' thing you got..."
"I got a reputation to upkeep," Chris deflected and noticed a handsome boy about seventeen giving out drinks. "Tony?" he guessed and saw the proud father's head bob. "Wow... he looks just like you. He's good?"
"Good boy, like his mother. What a pair of hands. He's got a half dozen schools chasing him. Here..."
Chris took the bottle and felt himself drawn into the crowd. His handsome face was split into a wide grin. Most of the team was there, kidding and kibitzing, eating pizza, chicken and ribs. Then a gruff voice turned his head.
"Beer? I don't think so. You're in training, Larabee."
"Coach?" Chris almost choked on the chicken he'd been eating. He eyed the gray-haired, well built man and allowed the brief bear hug. He was astounded to see his former coach. He'd heard the older man had moved west for health reasons. "God, I can't believe you're here. I heard you live out west now. How are you, sir?"
"Fine now, had a scare. Me and the wife live outside Phoenix. Hotter than Hell..." He paused, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder. �I wouldn't have missed this. You boys were the best I ever coached."
"I gotta tell you, sir, I learned more from you on that field about leadership and pride than about x's and o's. I still use those tools today."
"Thank you, son..." His voice choked up a bit.
"Hey! Look, the coach's is gonna bawl."
"Maguire, you're still a mouthy pain in the ass!" the coach barked.
"Ted? You look the same," Chris amazed at the very youthful blond with pale blue eyes. "You still writing?"
"Yeah, freelance mostly. As a matter of fact, if you didn't mind, I'd like to get a picture of the 'pack'. I thought I'd write a story about the reunion. I gotta tell you, when your face came over CNN as missing... I felt sucker punched."
"Yeah, that musta been somethin'," Tyler decided, eyeing the familiar bodies at the old tables they used to haunt. "You got guts... I heard them interview the reporter from CNN in Mexico that was involved. They showed a picture of that SOB Savage. Man, he was some kind of animal."
"A dead animal," Chris replied, swigging his beer.
"So how did you survive?" Billy asked, taking a slice of pizza. They'd all followed the stories on the news and prayed for his safe return.
Chris thought for a moment as the Doors played in the background and the scent of days gone by lingered in the air. He ran his thumb along the condensation gathering on the beer label and felt the heat of the Mexican jungle. He recalled those agonizing days and nights when fear threatened to take over.
"Survival?" He spoke quietly. "I guess when it comes down to it, every man will fight, claw and kick to survive... I did."
He took a sip and caught his parent�s reflection in the mirror. He thought on all he'd learned from them, given by loving example. "Faith... best weapon I carry." He grew somber then as the third and final piece of the puzzle snapped into place. "Most of all, I guess I'm the luckiest bastard alive. Vin?"
Chris turned and beckoned. Conscious that every eye in the crowded room was trained on him, the slim man slowly walked over to the table.
"Hey y'all..." he managed, nodding to the group.
"Guys, this is Vin Tanner. I'm sure you heard about his ATF credentials," he noted of the broadcasts during their kidnapping and afterwards when they were rescued. "But you also all know me." He paused, gripping Vin's neck and eyeing the men seated. "I know he's a little scrawny," Chris baited, watching the Texan struggle. "But I've never met anyone with more guts. He's the reason I made it out of that jungle alive..."
"Chris..." Vin warned, not liking this one bit, but Larabee wouldn't be deterred.
"I'm fortunate enough to work with the smartest man I've ever met and prouder still to call him friend... brother...� he corrected, lifting his bottle and saluting his quiet friend. He saw the flush rise and the slow smile form under the telltale blue eyes. "He saved both of us down there...�
"Most likely yer jest t'onry t'die... plus ya promised me Avalanche tickets fer m'birthday... don't be cheap neither, no nosebleed seats..."
"Wiseass!" Chris grinned.
"I try..."
"Son, you want to do something about that mustache?"
"Huh?" Vin's brow furrowed at the question posed by the coach and he grabbed a napkin, taking off the 'chocolate' mustache. "Aw, hell..."
"Good thing I didn't grow up in Hershey," Chris teased of the sniper's penchant for chocolate. "The factory would be empty..."
"I think I'll go finish m'shake..." Vin nodded. This was Chris's time to spend with his old gang, laughing, joking and reminiscing. "Nice meetin' ya..."
"Seat right here, Vin."
Vin smiled at his best friend and gave a slight nod. The chair being offered had little to do with sitting down. Larabee was inviting him into the 'pack'. That meant a lot to him, but it wasn't necessary. He cast his eyes over this group of men who had so many miles of memories to spill and recall. This was a moment for Chris to share with those brazen young men from twenty years past. A night to laugh, brag and exaggerate about exploits on and off the field. It was time for him to shine as the quarterback again.
"Thanks, Chris."
Larabee extended his hand and gripped the younger man's forearm. Vin caught the pass he sent beautifully, as if it was a fifty yard spiral. He wouldn't force the younger man to stay and realized Vin was giving him the chance to bask in the light of his High School days. It was more than generous and typical of him. He broke the grip and kept his eyes on Vin's back until a cry hit the air.
"Hey, let's get this party rolling..." Nick whooped as three more platters of food came out and another round of beer was ordered. "Tony, put that tape in..."
"Tape?" Chris paused.
"Steve works for NFL films in New Jersey," Nick said. "Him and your dad have been very busy..."
"Why does that thought scare me?" Chris muttered as he was shoved down into a seat and a movie unfolded on the twenty-seven inch television. An image of a naked baby running through a hallway emerged. The toddler had a Green Bay Packers helmet on. "Oh, man..." he groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes.
"Nice ass!" Nick yelled.
"Hey, look at that! You had moves even then," Ted noted.
So Chris sat there, transfixed as his early life was displayed, from his first days playing ball as a seven year old through those wonderfully rich life moments in his senior year when they were brawny young gods. The musical score, taking every perfect line from rock songs and blending them with the footage, made it a great show. He laughed and drank in the rude, funny and sometimes moving comments by his friends. Time faded away and he was eighteen again, youth drunk and swaggering.
"You still move great!"
"Pam!" Chris leapt from his seat after a kiss was planted on his cheek. He embraced his old flame who'd just arrived.
"Watch them moves, Larabee."
"Nick?" Chris clapped the owner's back after the final image faded. He kept his free hand around Pam's shoulders. "Listen, thanks for all of this. It means a lot to me. You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."
"Trouble? What trouble?" the Italian grinned. "We'd follow you anywhere, you know that. Pam and me made the calls, nobody was busy, if you know what I mean. That should tell you something, man." He tapped the cotton shirt with his beer bottle.
"Besides," Pam interrupted, "We're not the one you need to thank."
"What do you mean?" Chris puzzled.
"This whole idea, it was from your buddy Tanner. He did it..." Nick nodded across the room.
"He came back that first day," she recalled. "He wanted to give you a night to remember. He told me to call the pack together and make it special. Your folks got involved too. But the idea was his. He's a good kid."
"Kid?" Chris grinned, catching Vin's profile. He saw the Texan was already guzzling another chocolate malt, complete with mustache. "Yeah... I guess that kid inside Vin is something all of us should have."
"Duty calls!" Pam turned as one of the staff called out to her. Her wrist was snagged and she saw a hint of yesterday in those beguiling green eyes.
"Save a dance for me later?"
"You got it Golden Boy!" She hugged him and turned back to the kitchen.
Chris wasn't surprised but extremely humbled. Both that these men, from all walks of life and all parts of the country, had dropped everything to fly into a small Virginia town and turn back time... for him. Added to that, of course, the effort that Nick and his wife went to in order to host the party. But that his best friend, despite his own troubles, had orchestrated this fine night. That really meant a lot to him. He turned, peeking through the crowd and caught Vin's eyes. He raised his bottle and nodded, tapping his fist to his heart.
"Right back atcha, cowboy," Vin smiled softly, still warmed by the image of the young quarterback he'd seen on that film. He thought on that boy and the man he'd grown into and felt the words as a small pair of hands massaged his neck.
"I'll tell ya what..." His voice was thick and as Kate stood next to him, his eyes never left the laughing blond man across the room, reveling in his role as the leader of the pack. "Them fine hands of yers and the General's... " He paused again, swallowing hard. "...done one helluva job raisin' him up. There's no finer man wearin' boots..." His voice cracked then. "No, sir..."
Kate kissed his cheek and turned as Adam joined her, gripping Vin's neck.
"Oh, I don't know about that, Vin.� His voice was as warm as the blue eyes still following Chris. "I'd say Captain Paul did one helluva a fine job too, raisin' his boy up."
Vin turned slowly and met those dark eyes that once stormy, were now calm. He saw such strength and power residing there, it stunned him. He took the compliment, thought of his own father and offered his hand along with his heart.
"Thanks..."
A loud burst of laughter and whooping from the table brought Vin�s smile back. "Somethin' tells me it's gonna be a long night. Reckon we oughta head out, leave 'em ta celebrate?"
Chris saw his parents waving from across the room and excused himself. He jogged over, embracing his mother and shaking his father's hand.
"You leaving?"
"Why? Should I stay?" Adam's eyes narrowed. "Are there cheerleaders arriving... clothed or otherwise?" He noticed Chris needed a moment with Vin. "You stay in town tonight, son. There's a room for you across the street where the boys are staying."
"If I make it that far," Chris agreed, anticipating a long night ahead and a hangover in the morning. "Thanks, Dad... the movie... I don't know what to say."
"Say that if you make a comeback, you'll keep some clothes on when running the ball..." Adam teased, holding the door for his wife.
"Goodnight, honey." She kissed him again. "Have a good time."
Chris turned then, meeting the dopey grin Vin Tanner wore. His eyes went over his shoulder to the party in the background. He knew it would be a night to remember and he had one man to thank for that.
"Thanks, cowboy," he offered quietly, extending his hand. The shaggy head bobbed and the hand came out, gripping his forearm. "I'll never forget this, Vin."
"Weren't plannin' on lettin' ya," Vin sassed. "Figger it'll bail me outta a few tough spots."
"Yo, Chris! Beer's gettin' warm!"
"The pack's gettin' restless," Vin joked of the voice that bellowed. "I'll see ya by sunup?"
"This week?" Chris grinned. "You done good, Tanner."
He was gifted with a smile then, so deep and true it almost hurt. He kept that smile, storing it deep inside for revisiting during the quiet of the night. Chris watched as the lean man eased himself into the car and found his own smile. He kept it on, long into the wee hours of the night, leading the pack again.
Chris shifted in the chair, eyeing the clock on the wall. As much as he realized his input was vital for the meeting with Orrin Travis, Paul Davis of the DEA and Jeff Thomas of the FBI, he was wondering how Vin made out. They'd arrived back only that morning. He�d dropped Vin off at his house, staying with him until he felt the shaken man was okay. Vin had walked through every room, touching things, picking them up and even smelling some. Finally, he'd turned and said one word.
"Home."
Home indeed. He knew just how much that word and that feeling meant to the man who'd lost his memory. Ezra had filled the refrigerator with all the Tanner necessities and once Vin had a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl of cereal in front of him, Chris departed. But that was hours ago. He knew Nathan was taking Vin to have his physical at noon. He'd been stuck in this meeting for three hours and couldn't help but wonder how the recovering man made out.
"What the hell's takin' s'long?" Vin demanded, shivering. "I'm likely t'get pneumonia �er somethin'."
"You're worse than the preschoolers I tend to." Rain Jackson put the stethoscope to the grumbling man's back.
"Keep that thing in the freezer?" Vin hissed. "How come I ain't got m'pants? There ain't nothin' wrong with m'legs. The boys don't like this..."
"There's nothing wrong with your mouth." Rain moved to the chart. "How's the arm feel?"
"Sore..." Vin cradled the newly freed arm protectively. He winced and cried out when she slowly straightened it.
"I'm going to send you for therapy. It's right here in the building, fourth floor. I told them to expect you."
"She a looker?"
"Who?" Rain asked, gently rubbing the muscles in his lower arm.
"The arm wrangler... I'd prefer her t'be a looker, 'bout six foot and red hair."
"You sound like Buck," she teased but was puzzled when in lieu of a snappy comeback, Vin turned away as if hiding. "What? He's fine, you know. As a matter of fact, he's doing his therapy up there too."
"Dammit, Vin, you keep my wife any longer and my lunch out will turn into dinner."
"Eighth wonder o'the world," Vin pronounced, grabbing the wayward gown again.
"How's that?" Nathan entered the room, kissed his wife and approached the gurney where the sniping Texan sat.
"How ya got that woman t'marry ya. Somethin' as fine as her... don't make a lick o'sense."
"That's because you've never been with my brown bronco in the hot tub..."
"Aw, hell!" Vin spat his tongue out and wrinkled his nose. "Here comes m'breakfast up." He eyed the pretty physician. "Lunch? Ya been chompin'on stuff all afternoon. Like t'drive me crazy..."
"That's because I'm eating for two." She paused, cupping the shocked man's chin. "Uncle Vin..."
"Yer kiddin'!" Vin squeaked, eyeing the slim woman's abdomen, "Ya got a baby in there?"
"No, Vin, she's havin' puppies." Nate rolled his dark eyes.
"Shut up, Nate!" Vin slid off the table, tugging down the gown and yelping when he forgot about his stiff arm. He managed to kiss the mother-to-be and didn't hide his excitement. "He'll be the luckiest little fella ever born. Congratulations, Rain." He turned and shook his friend's hand. "All the best, Nate. Yer a lucky man, ya got the sun, moon and stars right here. So how long? I can't wait. Hey, I can get him a football and a hockey stick. Mebbe a little pair of cowboy boots..."
Nathan and Rain just laughed and left the rambling ATF man to get dressed.
Vin was still on cloud nine, excited for the Jackson's, when he arrived at the therapy floor. He had the orders in his hand and followed the numbers on the doors. He was about to enter the one he sought when a familiar voice found his ear.
"...look it's not your fault," Buck stated. "You did your best. I'll get by somehow. I wasn't expecting this kind of news. I guess I got my hopes up..."
Vin turned and walked down the hall, not even sure where he was headed. He found the waiting room and sat down, not hearing the intercom, the loud woman next to him or the screaming infant in the stroller. All he heard was Buck's voice and those words. Chris told him Buck was fine. He said the surgery was a success. Full recovery. What the hell happened? His head was still reeling and he shook it, trying to gather up his scattered nerves. Maybe Chris didn't know. That'd be just like Buck, not wanting to worry them. Maybe nobody knew.
"I'm sorry about that, Buck," the therapist replied. He'd mentioned wanting to take the lady in his life for a romantic dinner and then to the theater. Her mother worked at the theater, but the show was sold out. She'd promised him the tickets and now felt bad having let him down. He was such a nice guy.
"No problem, darlin'. I guess I'll have to do a one man show of my own... " He wagged his eyebrows and she groaned, rolling her eyes.
"Mister Tanner?"
"Huh?" Vin blinked up at a young woman with short curly hair. "Yeah..."
"I'm Kathy, I'm your therapist. I saw you walking away from the PT room. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, jest got a little mixed up..." Vin managed, rose and followed her back down the hall. He froze outside the room. What if Buck was still inside? What would he say to him? He braced himself and somehow got his numb limbs through the door.
Empty.
He sighed and sagged in relief, taking the seat on the matted area and waiting for his instructions. He nodded as she went over his problem, what the exercises were and what was expected of him. The session went well, but he was distracted. He decided to walk down to the Federal Building and try to meet up with Ezra. He wanted to thank the Southerner for making sure the house felt like home when he walked into it. He was passing a cafe when a voice called out.
"Vin!"
He turned and saw Buck waving at him. He backed up slightly as if an invisible sandbag hit his chest. His mouth went dry and he remained frozen in his tracks. The broad smile under the mustache disappeared and the tall man rose to walk over to him
"You okay? Sit down, your face just lost all its color. What's wrong?"
"Uh... nuthin'... didn't each much... must be that..." Vin stammered, letting Buck guide him to a table. "Cherry Coke," he asked the waitress.
"...bacon double cheeseburger and cheese fries," Buck added, knowing Vin liked that. "Hey, I couldn't find you at the hospital. I looked all over. Chris called, he was worried. How'd the physical go? Hey, you got your sling off!"
"Yeah," Vin whispered, still cradling the sore arm. "It's a little sore. Got some work t'do."
"Work? Lettin' pretty girls rub on that arm... that's not work!" He paused, seeing something he didn't like brewing in the cloudy blue eyes. "Damn, son, you look like somebody shot your dog..."
"I know it ain't much, bein' as how it's fucked up and all, but I want ya t'know that iffen it'd make a difference, I'd give ya m'arm so's ya won't lose yer badge. I'm sorry, Bucklin... Jesus God, I'm sorry..."
There. It came out in a fury without room for turning back. It was out and not a minute too soon, festering and growing inside all these long weeks. Finally, he lanced the wound and felt a weight lifted. He dropped his head, sucking a long draw on the soda the waitress put down. For a moment, there was no sound.
"What the hell are you talking about? Did they give you drugs over there? How the hell is this your fault?" Buck's anger grew. "Christ, I never met anybody so fond of wearin' a hair shirt."
"I done that!" Vin hollered, then felt his face flame when every patron in the immediate area turned to look at him.
"What?" Buck leveled, blue eyes hard." What did you do?"
"I took yer badge... I shot ya... it's m'fault."
"Get your head up and look at me!" Buck growled, moving to stand next to the slumped soul. He gripped the shoulder as the brown head came up. "First of all, my shoulder is fine. Chris told you that, right?"
"Yeah, but I heard ya talkin' this afternoon�.ya got bad news... from the therapist. I thought...�
"Dammit, Vin!" Buck exasperated. "She tried to get me theater tickets. You misunderstood," he appealed but still something lingered there. "Vin, you didn't put the bullet in my shoulder," he pressed but the guilty eyes still pained him. "You'd make a great saint, long hair and all," he noted of the unwarranted guilt. "You didn't do this to me, Vin."
"I did... I pulled the trigger. I seen it... black boots on the sand, m'arm come up... I shot ya..."
"That?" Buck groaned then, raking his hands through his hair. "You nicked my thigh, Vin, here," he tapped his inner leg. "A little farther north and I'd be a soprano. You gave my boys a good scare," he tried but got no smile. "After you and Chris were rescued, me and the General took off after Juan Xavier and the rebels. He's the one who shot me in the shoulder."
"Ya ain't lyin'," Vin amazed, seeing the truth so clearly it hurt. He dropped his head and let out a long breath, one he'd been holding inside far too long. A headache that had been nagging all day exploded then and the room began to spin. He dropped his head, rubbed his eyes and reached for the soda. But his dizziness caused him to misjudge the end of the table. He felt himself slipping sideways off the chair. He reached out to grab the end of the table and missed, banging his shoulder and nearly toppling.
"Sit still. That's all I need is for you to fall and bust something else. Chris'll fry my ass..." He got the younger man steady and guided the coke to his hand. "How long you been carryin' that fool cross?"
"I dunno," Vin sighed hard. "...I heard ya talkin' with Chris... the day I ate all them puddin's... I got a wicked flashback... I seen ya comin'... seen me shoot ya... ya... said... ya were gonna lose yer badge. I thought... I done that... I... felt... gut shot..." He took in some air and winced when the fading sun stabbed at his eyes, piercing the headache. "Idda done it, Bucklin..." he whispered, patting his arm.
"I know, Vin, I know," Buck lauded quietly, giving the downcast shoulder a pat. "You okay now?"
"Got a killer headache... stomach's sassin' me a bit..."
"Come on." He signaled the waitress, tossed some bills on the table. "Inez's place is five minutes away."
It was late when Inez came home. She took her shoes off, untied her hair and sent the dark silken tresses cascading down her back. She headed for the kitchen to get a bottle of Snapple and frowned at the dishes in the sink. She had planned to make Buck a late dinner for two... in bed.
"Buck?"
"Shhh!"
"What shush?" she whispered, following the voice. She paused at the door of the extra bedroom. Buck came out of their own bedroom wearing only a pair of denim cutoffs. He moved down the hallway and greeted her, kissing her softly. His eyes moved over her head to the bed where Vin slept soundly.
"Why is Vin here?"
"Well," Buck moved past her to pull the sheet up, pausing long enough to ensure that the Tylenol P.M. the younger man took was working. Then he moved out of the room, closing the door. "It's a long story that ends with Vin gettin' a bad headache, the kind that makes you sick. We were at Christine's," he noted of the gourmet deli. He unbuttoned her shirt and nuzzled her neck while his hands moved over her, caressing her.
"I like long stories... "
Buck took the kiss and returned it, a deep soulful kiss that left them both feeling like a shot of electricity zapped them. They left a trail of clothes on the way to the bed. Later as she slept, he eased her from his arms and tugged his shorts on. He went to the kitchen, took two cokes and went back to the guest room. He crept inside, popped the top and took the straw from the empty, putting it in a fresh can. The blankets were scattered again and he shook his head.
"Boy rides everythin' hard, even the bed..." he muttered.
"Bucklin...?"
"Go back to sleep," he whispered, shoving the straw towards the slack lips. They parted and took in the straw, taking a healthy drink. The loud belch that followed gave the mustached man a smile. He waited until the mumbling young man returned to dreamland and pulled the blanket back up. He took his own soda to the terrace and sat down, enjoying the gentle breeze and the stars above.
It sure was a beautiful night. All was right in the universe again.
Thanks as always to KET, for her patience and young sagelike advice throughout this epic. There was more than one time when I wanted to give up and not finish and she kicked my butt good.
To all of you who've hung in here for this long long too long 18 month trail drive, I can't thank you enough. Your words of encouragement along with the tears and the laughter meant a lot to me, you'll never know how much those kind thouths meant. to me.
Spew warning!
Thanks again...
They'd gathered at Chris's for a weekend of touch football, river rafting and general buddy stuff. The refrigerator and freezer were packed with steaks, burgers, chicken and ribs. A keg of beer had been tapped and five of the seven ATF teammates were sprawled around Chris Larabee's den.
"Kid back yet?" Buck asked, hearing Josiah shut the kitchen door.
"No, he took off with Sam and a Frisbee," the preacher noted of Larabee's black lab and his favorite toy.
"He'll come runnin' soon enough when those steaks hit the grill," Nathan decided, setting up a chess board. "When's Chris due?"
"He's working late," Ezra stated, eyes never leaving the game board. His brows drew together as slim fingers placed tiles down.
"It comes with the job," Josiah stated of their team leader. He settled into a chair across from Nathan and handed the other man a beer.
"Fixin?" Ezra scoffed, eyeing the Scrabble letters. "Remove that! Are you aware of the rules? You have to use acceptable words."
"Ain't nuthin' wrong with that word," Vin defended, pushing the letters aside and counting the points up.
"Then use it in a sentence," Ezra declared, reaching for the dictionary.
"I'm fixin' on beatin' yer cheatin' ass at this here game!" He paused to eye the shirt the con man wore. "...Elmo..."
"...'sing'..." the southerner corrected, glaring at the chuckling scorekeeper. "...it's 'sing'."
"That's a rite nice lil' word, Ez," Vin decided. "Soon as I'm done countin�, ya can pluck them tiles down."
"That's not the word I was planning on using. That," he tapped the tiles played, "needs a 'g' as in 'fixing'. As in I would like to do something about fixing the scorekeeper's annoying laugh."
"Annoying?" Buck feigned a chest wound, then implored to the blue-eyed Texan, "Vin, am I annoying?"
"Hell no, Bucklin," Tanner replied. "Yer real easy on the eyes, tell the truth..."
"Hey now... keep it rated G," Nathan called over.
"With all the extra bonuses and such, that comes t'ninety six..."
"Your math skills are nearly as bad as your English." Ezra slapped the hand. "Remove that, it's not a word!" Ezra then glared at Buck Wilmington, the scorekeeper. "You, sir, are lax in your duty."
"Vin, you got another sentence?" Buck asked.
"Naw, but I got one Ez's is gonna gimme," the sly sniper replied. "What are them words that's wrote on the sign next t'the straws and napkins at Bronco Billy's?" he inquired of the western style sandwich shop the team often stopped at.
Buck grinned and shook his head, watching Ezra try to worm out of replying. Twice his mouth opened, but no words came out. The mustached man tapped the pencil to the pad of paper, grinning wider as blue eyes challenged green over the board.
"I can't hear ya?" Vin cupped his ear and did a sing-song voice that caused the scorekeeper to snicker.
"That's not proper use of the word, furthermore..."
"What's it say?" Vin interrupted, wagging his fingers. "Come on, out with it..."
"Fixin's bar, but that's not..."
"Forty two," Vin declared, nodding to the pad. "Mark it down, Bucklin."
"He's got you there, Ezra," Buck noted, adding the points.
"What are you doing? You uncivilized Neanderthal!" Ezra's voice rose as the tiles he placed on the board were flicked back at him one at a time.
"Takin' justice in m'own hands," Vin supplied. "Yer cheatin' again."
"Standish's never cheat!" Ezra scoffed.
"That ain't a word, it's jest a bunch of vowels dancin' about." Vin eyed the letters. "A-m-o-u-r.."
"It's French..."
"Yer ass ain't squatted in Paris, this here's America. Ya gotta use proper English."
"If I weren't so outraged by your behavior, that would be funny. Proper English indeed, from your mouth,� Ezra scoffed.
"Ya got a word 'er not? I got a nice six letter killer comin' on."
"I can hardly wait. Judge?"
"English, Ezra."
"I'm doing an investigation after this game concludes," Ezra sniffed, eyeing the grinning judge. "You, sir, have been bribed."
"Hell, Ezra, Vin don't have enough money to scare up gas. He can't afford me," Buck sent back, winking at Tanner.
It was after eight when Chris pulled in, taking a moment after the engine died to let the atmosphere soak in. Three whole days coming up in the sunshine on his mountain with his brothers by his side. He caught the tantalizing scent of roasting meat as the smoke from the grill assaulted him. He smiled as Sam's excited yelps caught his ear. He slid from the black Mustang and pulled his laptop out with him along with three thick folders.
"Hey, buddy... you had a good day, huh?" he called out as he walked up the steps to the deck where the excited black dog was jumping, eager to greet the master. He paused and scratched the dog's head, rubbing his fur and talking softly to him. Curious at the lack of sound from inside, he made his way to the kitchen door. Light spilled from the interior but not a sound, not even a radio.
He took the back stairs from the kitchen to the bedroom and took his suit off. After a quick shower, he slipped into shorts and a t-shirt, shoved his feet into a worn pair of moccasins and took the same stairs back down. Pausing to fill a mug with beer, he ambled into the study. Three bodies were standing around three seated ones.
"What's going on?" he asked, moving closer.
"Ezra and Vin are playing scrabble..." J.D. replied.
"Vin, you drunk?" he asked.
"Thanks fer the vote o'confidence," Vin shot back, keeping his eyes on the Southerner.
"He's winning," Buck said, watching Larabee's eyes widen.
"Ezra drunk?" Chris asked, getting a glare from the Texan. He watched as Vin's fingers carefully placed six tiles on the board. "Clyster?" He frowned. "What the hell is that?"
"You can't be serious," Ezra pronounced, having spent the last couple of minutes watching Vin playing with the remaining tiles he had left. "That's not a word. Define it," he issued, raising an eyebrow.
"...rubber hose up the poop chute..." Vin issued, sitting up straight and arching his own eyebrow right back at the smug Southerner.
"You okay, brother?" Josiah managed over the explosive laughter.
Larabee had the misfortune of swallowing beer at the same time. He was coughing, laughing and choking all at once.
"Somethin' yer in desperate need o'. . ." Vin sent back to the sputtering gambler. "...bein's as yer full o'shit most o'the time."
"I thought you were Switzerland?" Standish growled at Wilmington.
"I am... I am... neutral... the picture of decorum at all times," Buck wheezed, wiping his damp eyes.
"See that you remain so!" Ezra glared.
"Shit �er git off the pot, Ez," Vin invited with a swagger.
"If you challenge him and lose, Ezra, the game's over. He's got you by fifty points now. You'd never catch him," J.D. noted, adding the score over Buck's shoulder.
Ezra pondered on that, keeping his eyes on Vin Tanner's sly blues. The Texan had played a good game, combining real words with 'Vin slang' deftly. He'd lost more challenges than he'd won and as a result, the slim sniper was winning. He eyed the tiles again and nodded to Buck.
"I challenge that word."
"Hah!" Vin smacked his hands together and began rubbing them. "Clete's tomorrow night fer supper boys, on me!" he invited of the all-you-can-eat BBQ night at the local tavern. He saw Buck fumbling through the pages of the old dictionary and frowned. "Hell, it ain't gonna be in there, that things older'n Larabee."
"Keep it up, Nimrod, and your fresh ass will be parked over at Motel 8," Chris wheezed, slowly recovering.
"Game, set and match!" Buck declared, his hand in the open book. "Nice goin', Slick. You lived up to your name," he offered with a smile of the nickname he used for the elusive agent.
"Surely you jest!" Ezra huffed.
"Ezra, didn't you see the pattern?" J.D. pointed to the other challenges that the Southerner lost.
"Cenacle..." Chris read aloud at the first word the youth pointed to. He turned to Vin who supplied the same reply he'd given the first time, causing his friends to laugh.
"That's the place where Jesus ate his last burger with the posse."
"The room where the last supper was held," Josiah translated.
"Chawdron," Chris read the next word followed by Vin's raspy drawl.
"Innerds."
"Nice, Vin..." Chris winked, shaking his head. "You reading the letter C chapter in the dictionary?"
"Ain't givn' m'secrets away," Vin touted, eyeing the tally sheet. "Bucklin, how much?"
"Well, it was a dollar for every point difference... until Ezra upped the ante."
"I don't recall that transpiring," Standish glared.
"Ya ain't weaselin' outta this, ya lyin' sac o'shit. Halfway thru when I was behind a bit. Double 'er nuthin' ya spouted, damn gold tooth nearly blinded me..." Vin dumped the tiles into the soft leather pouch. "How much?"
"Well, with the bonus for using your tiles up... double word score... 97 points... times two..."
"A hunnert and ninety four bucks... damn!" Vin clapped the stunned southerner's back. "How 'bout we make it easy, no sense workin' with uneven numbers. Jest write it out to Vincent A. Tanner fer two hunnert bucks."
"A?" Nathan eyed the grinning Texan. "Your middle name? Anthony?"
"Hell no!" Vin stood up, stretched and winked at Ezra. "Ahiaw."
"Hey, that's cool, you got an Indian middle name," J.D. clamored. "You get that from your grandfather?"
"Naw... give t'myself." Vin paused, seeing Chris's suspicious eyes narrow. "Ya ain't drinkin', are ya? Don't need a trip t'the ER." He eyed his friends. "Give up? Always Had It, Always Will." Vin draped a sympathetic arm around the still stunned Standish's shoulders. "Don't fret none, Ez. Next time I'll give ya some points fer when we get started so when ya lose, ya won't owe me as much."
"Ever the gentlemen," Ezra hissed. "Did you add that right?"
"Here." Buck turned the paper over to the other man. "Ahiaw... another Vinner. I gotta write that in the black book. Damn, that boy has a million of 'em. Preacher, them steaks ready?"
"They are!" Josiah headed for the door, clapping J.D.'s back. "Come on, son, grab a platter."
They ate outside on a large table Chris had made in town just for these occasions, a hearty wood table where seven men could spread out and enjoy a meal. He paused in the doorway, watching the other six laugh and whoop it up. They were teasing Nathan about his upcoming role as a father. Chris sipped his beer and let that wonderful laughter fill him. It sure was good to be home. Nothing felt better
It had been a wonderful day. The sun was high in the sky, the breeze just right for outdoor sports, and the mood had been as high as the Rockies. After a morning scavenger hunt during a hike, they'd shared a huge feast on the trail. Then, winding back down the mountain to Chris's led to a very rough �skins vs. shirts� football game. Ezra, of course, didn't sweat so he kept score.
Chris, Nathan and Vin were the 'skins', playing in cutoffs and sneakers. Buck, Josiah and J.D. wore green t-shirts and were losing by five points. Time was running out and Josiah had the ball. He dodged Nathan who was gunning for him and sent a spiral down the field towards J.D.
"Intercepted!" Chris screamed when Vin stole the ball and headed the other way. Buck tackled him as the air horn sounded, ending the game.
Six bodies lay heaving and gasping in the sweet grass, panting and covered in sweat. Ezra eyed the sun and wiped his brow, clucking his tongue.
"Barbaric..." he drawled, eyeing the prone warriors, bruised and sporting cuts and bumps.
"Bucklin?" Vin gasped.
"Yeah?" the exhausted man managed, not moving from where he lay on top of the slim Texan.
"Ya mind gettin' offa me 'afore them animal maggots o'yers get an itch."
"Son," Buck laughed, rolling off of the wet body and getting up, hauling the younger man with him, "you are easy on the eye." He ruffled the wet curling dark hair and got the growl and disgruntled face he wanted. "But I'm a peaks and valleys man. Besides, this heart and the hound dog that goes with it, is already locked up."
"Can't figger it," Vin coughed, bending over and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "She always seemed like a woman with brains. Musta hit her head one night..."
"You okay?" Chris called out from where he and J.D. were still sprawled.
"Yeah... jest catchin' some wind. Damn, I'm starved..."
"You're always starved. Between you and J.D., we'll be lucky if they let us back in Clete's." Nathan eyed the others, mentally looking for wounds to be addressed. "Nothin' broken? No trips to the ER? Won't seem natural."
"Full moon!" Chris stood up and hauled J.D. after him. "Hit the showers, kid."
He was sound asleep, enjoying a wonderful dream. A paradise, not unlike the one he'd seen in the Hawaiian movie a few nights before, was all around him. Under a cascading waterfall, with lush flowers in her hair, stood a naked Venus. Long dark hair fell down her back and her tanned body was peeking at him invitingly though the water. He swam closer, his mouth yearning to kiss those rich red lips that called out to him. She was just inches away, her skin begging to be touched and that body born to be made love to. His name left her lips...
"Vin... Vin..."
"Mmmm ...."
"Sorry, cowboy," Chris chuckled when Vin's hand slid down over the butt in his jeans.
"Huh?" Vin blinked and saw a Larabee where a lady should be. "What the fuck did ya do that fer? Dammit, Chris... she's wet and nekkid... me and the boys was fixin' on havin' us a party."
"Take those hot boys of yours to a cold shower, Romeo," Chris said, pulling Vin out of the bed. He got the cranky body to the window and pointed outside.
Vin blinked, yawned and rubbed his eyes. He scratched all the right spots and eyed the two horses saddled and ready to ride.
"Where're we goin'? Hell, what time is it?"
"It's just after five a.m." Chris paused. "I thought we'd catch the sunrise and cook breakfast over a fire. You up for it?"
"Hell, yeah!" Vin decided, grabbing some underwear and clothes and throwing them on the bed before heading into the bathroom to shower.
It was a cool morning and the two riders made their quiet sojourn into Mother Nature's embrace. The woodland creatures scurried about, foraging for their young. Overhead eagles flew, seeking out the new dawn. Birds chirped and the aspens shivered at the sight sending golden breath all around them. They'd been riding about a half-hour when Vin pulled up closer to the leader.
"Where we headed?" he asked, a chill going up his spine.
Chris didn't reply at first, but he nodded ahead and let the younger man take the lead. He saw that handsome profile turn several times, eyeing the trees, mountains and landscape. The blue eyes were searching for something.
Vin paused at the crest of the hill, letting his eyes drown in the sight before him. He slid from the horse, stroking the full mane and pausing to allow the assault on his senses to continue. Next to a lush meadow whose carpet of flowers in blues, violets and yellows stole his breath stood a log cabin. It sat next to a rushing river, crisp and blue, with white foam shooting off the rocks. Next to the cabin was a new corral. It dawned on him just as his best friend joined him. . Chris paused a moment, studying every bit of rapture and wonder displayed on Vin's face. This was the moment he'd dreamed about. This moment in time that was one born on another mountain, far away in Mexico. A dream that had been vital for his very survival... for both of their lives.
"You know where we are?" he asked quietly. "...and where we came from?"
"Crossed the river o'fire," Vin whispered in a prayer-like tone.
"...and into the Valley of Dreams," Chris concluded, gripping the back of the dumbstruck younger man's neck.
Too awed to speak and not trusting his voice, Vin nodded, recognizing the placed he'd longed for in those fevered days and lost nights in Mexico. Under that bloody moon, beaten and fearing he might not walk again, this place, this image, this majesty was his fuel. Now he was healed, body and soul, and it wasn't an image. It was real.
"I never seen it like this..." he managed, still unable to tear his gaze away.
"I never brought you up this trail before. I wanted to surprise you." Chris pulled a long wooden peg from his pocket. "Welcome home, Vin Tanner. Long may you stay."
"Home?" Vin eyed the wooden object and his body began to turn to pins and needles. "What's that?"
"The key."
"Key?" He shook his head. "Always used the winda. What the hell do I need a key fer?"
"It's symbolic." Chris pressed the object into Vin's palm and folded his fingers around it.
"What the hell are ya sayin'?" Vin denied, trying to pull his hand back. It hit him like a punch to the gut. He turned, wide-eyed and shocked. "Yer shittin' me?"
"Nice, I'll have that made into a plaque for over the door. It's a little different than 'Home Sweet Home'." Those wide blues continued to stare at him in muted awe and amazement. "It's private ground, the eagle sanctuary isn't far. It's not the Hilton, but it's clean and neat, solidly built. No cold air will sneak through. It's your healing place, Vin. A place you can come to think and relax. To chase the stress away when the job gets too rough. Just plant your Tanner ass on that porch and watch that river rush by."
"Chris... I ain't got words..."
"That's a first," Larabee grinned. He couldn't get enough of the beautiful light shining from Vin's eyes. He decided to capture it and stow it away deep inside, to call up when it was needed. "It's important to me, Vin. I've been planning this moment since we landed at the bottom of that hill in Mexico. You carried me through that river of fire, Vin, and now. . .I can give you the Valley of Dreams."
He saw Vin's arm snap out and gripped the forearm, locking into their brotherhood grip. Never had it meant more than at this very moment when time stood still.
"Come on, let's christen the stove I put in," Chris decided, eyeing the dark blue sky turning to light blue. "Sun'll be up soon." He clapped the stunned man's back and led them down the path towards the cozy cabin.
"Stove, huh?" Vin said, stepping inside. "Hey, look at all o'this..."
He walked around the cabin, not recognizing it. The outer walls had been shorn up, the glass replaced in the broken windows and the inside was scrubbed clean. A knotty pine table and two chairs were against one wall under the window. Two bunks were against the other wall and an iron stove was in the corner. The fireplace had fresh marble on the hearth and a rack inside to use as a spit or grill. A small refrigerator was almost hidden in the other corner underneath a cupboard. He opened the door and saw tin plates, mugs and some pots and pans. A cotton rug with a beautiful Aztec design in shades of coral, turquoise, cream and sage was in the center of the room. On the walls were other Native American decor. Vin moved towards the bunks, his eye catching the beautiful dream catcher, the soft white feathers moving in the breeze.
"Ya done this fer me?" He licked his dry lips and felt his chest tighten. "I'm thinkin' thanks don't cover what's nestin' in m'chest. Ya got no idea what this means t'me... Chris..."
"It means my refrigerator won't be empty and chocolate wrappers won't be littered all over my house," the blond teased, moving closer and patting Vin's back. "And you said it just fine. All the boys helped. J.D. and Buck spent a lot of weekends up here building that corral. Josiah made the furniture. Two chairs and table outside too. Ezra searched high and low until he found that rug. It's one of a kind from a collector. Rain got most of those," he nodded to the many handmade Native American items on the walls, "from her cousin in New Mexico. He's an artist."
"He sure as hell is," Vin nodded. "Never seen the like. Amazin'..."
"You get the horses settled down. I'll get the fireplace going."
Twenty minutes later, they sat side by side, each holding a tin plate with pancakes and sausage. Two mugs of steaming coffee sat on the table between them. The sun broke through the sky sending a golden cast over their faces. Bathed in the warmth of the physical and metaphysical, at this moment in time, Vin felt invincible. Nothing could hurt him here. This collection of sky and earth was his piece of heaven.
Chris kept eying the pensive Tanner who'd been silent since he'd gone outside to tend to the horses. He knew how much this meant to Vin; it was written in his eyes. He sat back and let the sun bake his face, watched the golden ripples turn the river into liquid gold. Harmony reigned supreme; the total and utter perfection of this place gave him a profound sense of peace and tranquility. He saw Vin moving to collect the dishes.
"There's a sink and a pump out back," Chris relayed. He was still basking in the light of the glorious new dawn when he felt his back tapped. He leaned forward as Vin placed something around his neck.
"My medal..." he stammered, eyeing the soft smile looking at him.
"Funny thing," Vin said, reclaiming his seat at the edge of paradise. "I was fixin' on makin' me a moment this weekend t'give it back. Not jest anytime, the right time. Ya give me everythin' I need with that." He tapped the leader's open palm. "This," he swallowed hard, still not absorbing the fine gift, "is above and beyond. That's what that medal was fer me. The light in m'darkness. I felt ya... heard ya sassin' me... urgin' me on when I wanted t'give up. As long as I had that, I had hope."
Dawn blushed and moved away, letting the golden new Morn take over. She bathed the two friends in her best light, casting a glorious blue in the sky. Every so often, she'd peek at them through the trees, hearing them speaking so eloquently without saying a single word.
"Come on, Ezra, don't use all the hot water, huh?" J.D. called out, shoving another sausage into his mouth.
"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Josiah thwacked the dark head lightly. "Get finished up. We're meetin' Chris and Vin for some rafting."
"I'm done." J.D. shoved the last morsel in and sat back. "What?"
"What?" Josiah's gray brow shot up. "I cooked, son, you're on cleanup."
Josiah was just putting the last of the gear into the truck when a deafening roar split the morning air.
"Era, get down here!"
"Since I've not gone deaf overnight, I fail to see the reason for..."
"Shut up and get down here. I'm ruined..." Buck lamented, staring at the newspaper in his hand.
"I'm innocent!" Standish declared, tying a towel around his wet waist and padding down the stairs. He couldn't help but wonder why Buck was staring at the ATF monthly newsletter with his mouth gaping. His face was a curious mix of shock and rage.
"Did you see this? God, I wonder who else saw it...?" Wilmington moaned.
"What on earth has your cage rattled?" Ezra moved in, taking the paper from the irate man's hands.
"I'll kill him!" Buck vented. "Larabee or no Larabee, them scrawny Texan's balls are gonna be in a sling. That blue-eyed weasel's pulled his last stunt..."
"You realize of course that our shifty sharpshooter had help. I sense Mister Dunne's fingerprints all over this.� He eyed the photo and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I should like to have a word with him. He could have found a more appropriate body to steal. I am hardly that thick across the middle. Furthermore..."
"Your waist!" Buck slapped the back of Ezra's wet head. "Read the words under it..."
"Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish..." he paused. "...the long time friends and teammates of Denver's most decorated ATF team have announced their upcoming nuptials." His voice went up a full octave.
"Nuptials?" Josiah walked closer. "How come you two didn't come to me? I could have given you a discount. Of course, I don't usually have two grooms, not that there's anything wrong with that..."
"This ain't funny, Josiah," Buck stammered, eyes glued to the photo.
"Hey, guys?" J.D. added, tossing the dishtowel and joining the group. "I can get you two a discount on dishes and stuff. Casey's friend, Gina, works at the new house wares store..."
"J.D., you best shut up while you can still talk. Don't think I don't know you had a hand in this," Buck warned. "How much did he pay you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dunne feigned innocently.
"Hey, it says here that you two lovebirds have a romantic hideaway where you first met," Nate chuckled, reading over Ezra's shoulder. "'The two lovers often escape the city to share moonlight and stolen kisses..."
"I fail to see the humor in this." Ezra moved his body, blocking the chuckling agent.
"Says in the last paragraph you're hoping to have a family. God, that's an awful picture!" Josiah noted.
"You gonna hyphenate your name for Junior?" Nate asked.
"Naw, that's too long," J.D. decided. "I've heard of some of your... well... same sex parents using morphed last names, like Standington or Wilmish."
"I'm glad you all find this so funny," Buck hissed, trying to get the paper back.
"Hey, Nate? Look closer, Buck's got his hand down the back of Ezra's pants," Josiah observed.
"Now that is a shock," Nate laughed. �I always figured Buck for a breast man, but Ezra does have a nice ass."
"You would be well advised to keep your eyes off my assets," Ezra hissed, eyeing the photo closer. "Good Lord, he's right. Your hand is groping me.."
"It's not my fucking hand!" Buck bellowed.
"Southpaw, huh?" Josiah said with a straight face and a nasty twinkle in his smoky eyes. "Never would have guessed, you shoot right."
"Gimme that! Nobody likes a wise-assed preacher," Buck growled, taking the newspaper back. "This paper is distributed to every office in the Federal Building, � he announced, watching the color drain from Standish's face. "GODDAMMIT, VIN!" He punched a sofa pillow, seeing the prankster's evil grin. "I'll bet he's laughing his ass off somewhere. I can't believe he'd do something this low."
"Yeah, like picking on a cripple," Nate tossed back of the prank the two pulled on the helpless patient in the hospital. "You two knew this was coming. You ain't got half the sense God gave you, taking on Vin."
"I wonder if there are openings in the Anchorage office," Ezra lamented of his fate. "My reputation is ruined, � he moaned, then narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps not... the guillotine may not fall after all."
"What?" Buck moved closer, seeing the wheels turning in Ezra's head.
"Mister Larabee always brings the advanced copy from his monthly meeting with Orrin which was late Friday afternoon."
"So?" Buck shrugged.
"It must be difficult urinating through your tiny brain," Standish glared. "The mailroom. It's a holiday weekend. Any bells ringing yet?"
"They're not distributed. They're sitting in the distribution bin. Hey, we got time to save face."
"Pretty face too!" Nate added, swiping Ezra's towel.
"Have you no shame?" Standish demanded, trying to get the towel back.
"Who'd have guessed, what with you having big feet," J.D. teased.
"Ezra, quit fucking around and get dressed."
"You�d best choose your words carefully, Buck. You'll get the bride all excited."
"Josiah, I swear to God..." Buck hissed, shoving his boots on.
"I'll drive," Ezra said a few moments later, flying by Buck in a flash of Kenneth Cole gray. "My Jaguar will prevent us from an early retirement."
"You two lovebirds keep your eye on the road now," Jackson laughed, leaning over Chris's porch rail. "You know how many folks have those 'embarrassing' accidents foolin' around in the car."
"Yuck it up, Nathan!" Buck screamed at the laughing trio, then got in the car.
Josiah walked onto the porch, handing his two friends each a mug of coffee.
"I wonder how long it'll be before one of them idiots reads the back page," Nathan chuckled, sipping his coffee.
"Season's Greetings to our men and women in the armed forces overseas," J.D. read of one of the copies Chris brought back in his files.
"You did a good job, J.D.," Josiah agreed, eyeing the copy. "How many'd you make?"
"Enough to keep Buck honest, that's what Vin said," Dunne bragged. "He's got five, they got one. There's this one and the one Vin gave Mike."
"Mike Ryan?" Nathan asked and saw the dark head nod. "Oh, man... they'll never live this down," he noted of the Team Eight leader that often subbed for Chris. They all respected the veteran officer who had a biting humor. His favorite target was Ezra.
"Chris made sure he left that copy out for Buck to see before he left this morning. Mike's on relay duty today, twelve to seven," J.D. noted of their team leader's role in the joke.
"And that's in the distribution center..." Nathan shook his head. "Lord, I wish I could see that..."
"Mike's gonna tape it... don't make plans for Tuesday at lunch. We'll watch it in the conference room," J.D. added. "I'm gonna take Sam for a walk before we leave."
"You know, Nathan," Josiah said when J.D. ran inside to get his sneakers. "Them two scare me,� he noted of Vin and J.D. and the pranks they thought up.
"I hear you, brother, I stay on their good side," Nate agreed.
Chris was on the porch nursing a beer in the morning sun. The others were due in about an hour, having to take the long road. He heard the loud whoop and turned his face toward the river. He saw Vin's lean body disappear under the water and reemerge on the other side, arms high in victory as another cry hit the air. He moved closer, his smile growing with each step. He watched Vin swimming and leaping from the water. He was lean, tanned and healthy, and the fire was back. Once again the lithe body sailed high, arms speared in victory and the handsome face split into a gleeful, whooping call.
The blond fingered the chain around his neck, taking in all the medal represented to both of them. He thought on just how hard Vin Tanner had worked and how many agonizing months he'd spent in the river of fire before being reborn. He raised his bottle and silently toasted the euphoric Texan as the lyrics from an old Simon and Garfunkle song seemed to fit the picture before him.
"...sail on by...
all your dreams on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend,
I'm sailing right behind...
I'll ease your mind..."
"Shine on, Vin Tanner, shine on!" he lauded, settling back and drinking in the rapture.
THE END!
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