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by: Firefox

 

Disclaimer: Of course they're not mine - everyone knows our guys belong to each other! No infringement intended, no money made... (you can send that one to the Fat Chance Department), and if you want to sue me - my cats are demented, my car is psychotic, and everything else I own is owed to Visa, so it's hardly worth the bother...

ATF / AU

Warning: NC-17 m/m sex ahead, so if that offends - now is the time for the 'delete' key, okay?

Pairing: Let's see now... C/V (well, you could at least act surprised!)

Author's Notes: Well, here it is... (drum roll please) - Firefox has taken the plunge into the purple - a bona fide slashfic (well, eventually) - so if Chris and Vin ain't your thing, you are in the wrong place! Loads of angst of course, and enough treacle to drown in, but, hey, this is me.... so stick with it (treacle...stick...get it?) - it gets there... <g> Thanks to Mog for creating the world I now seem to live in, and to Margaret and Glo (who thought they knew me all this time <g>) for the beta.

Dedicated to the incredibly talented, certifiably insane, ladies of the Black & Buckskin 'purple' list - LaraMee, Anita, Winnie, Ruby, the Jackie's, and all the others - with my thanks for the friendship, fun, and of course, the fic... and especially to my mentor, corruptor and friend, SueN, First Lady of the Purple - just to prove I have been paying attention!

Feedback to firefoxm7@hotmail.com most welcome, but this is my first real slashfic, so try not to laugh too much, okay?

 

 

"Chris?" Vin Tanner's voice floated from somewhere in the region of the front door.

"Yeah!" Larabee responded, grabbing his jacket out of the bedroom closet and pulling it on in a rush, "be with ya in a second!"

"Bring my wallet with you - would ya? I left it in m'other jacket!" Vin shouted.

They were late - again. This was getting to be a bad habit. Once upon a time, Chris Larabee mused as he re-opened the closet door, *I used to be in the office long before anyone else was even outta bed, and still in the office when everyone else went home.* He grinned to himself. *Yeah, that's right. But that was in the days when all you had in your life was work and whiskey, and before you had hell-on-wheels in your bed every night... *

They were rapidly replacing Ezra Standish as the office late-arrival joke. More often than not just lately, Buck would be waiting, eyebrows raised, tapping a long index finger to the face of his wrist watch, with some smart-mouthed comment about 'late-comers.'

Chris sighed. It took a helluva lot of determination to disentangle himself from those long arms and legs, look into a pair of eyes that could melt steel and say, "we've gotta get up Vin... we're gonna be late." Some days, the determination was there, and some days, like today, the blue eyes and the warm kisses won and the determination melted like an ice cube in an oven.

He grinned. *God Larabee, ain't you gettin' a bit long in tooth to be wanderin' around like a love-struck teenager?* He shook his head. No, he decided, he wasn't. It was the best damn feeling he'd had since too long ago to remember. One glance from Vin and Chris's heart would miss a beat, his blood pressure would sky-rocket and his skin would tingle. For someone who had thought those sensations belonged to another life, it was a pretty damn good feeling. He had truly forgotten how ridiculously euphoric love could make you feel - half-dazed, half-drunk, light-headed and dizzy, smiling at the world and everything in it like a half-wit and so damn happy you felt like you could burst.

"Chris? What are you doin' in there??"

Vin's voice intruded on his thoughts and he suddenly realised he was daydreaming again. Now they were going to be really late.

He ferreted in the pockets of Vin's second-favourite jacket, searching for the wallet. Vin had been wearing the jacket for the last few days, only changing into the newer, more warmly-lined one this morning, when the weather had taken a decidedly icy turn.

Chris's hands withdrew gum wrappers, pieces of dried apple and molasses candy that Peso seemed to able to smell from a mile away, elastic bands, paper clips, several receipts from the deli, a handful of coins and half-eaten packet of mints - no wallet. He tried the inside pocket - pulling out more pieces of paper, a folded napkin from the chinese take-out, the missing wallet and something else - a small package that fell to the floor of the closet.

Chris bent down to retrieve it, and realised it was a gift box, the lid of which had dislodged in the fall, and the contents of the box lay on the floor. He picked up the shiny object he could see had fallen from the box.

It was a small turquoise and silver Native American pin, decorated with several tiny, perfect silver and white feathers. A beautifully crafted object that looked quite expensive. He picked up the box and noticed the gift tag still sitting inside. It was covered in Vin's handwriting. Chris suddenly realised that this was probably a gift for him from the sharpshooter and felt instantly guilty at having found it. He replaced the little pin in the box, but despite trying not to, his curiosity got the better of him and his eyes quickly scanned the words on the card.

I never say your name, but you're always in my heart. Thank you. I Love You, Too. Vin

With a sudden realisation that stung like a whiplash, Chris knew the gift wasn't intended for him. The smile froze on his face as an icy wave of shock washed through him and cast a cold shadow across his heart.

 

+++++++

 

"What in the hell's wrong with you?" Tanner's blue eyes spat sparks at Chris as they drove to work.

Larabee had literally tossed the wallet at Vin, barrelled out of the house looking like a thundercloud, gunned the Ram down the driveway as if they were on the NasCar start line, and had spent the rest of the journey staring fixedly out of the windshield with eyes like lasers, not uttering a word.

Vin sighed. It was because they were late, he figured. Chris hated being late, and it had happened more than once in the past few days. Vin felt guilty. It was his fault. He just couldn't resist Chris - especially not first thing in the morning - eyes all drowsy and dreamy, blond hair all mussed up, long arms wrapped around him, and so warm... Vin felt the familiar wave of heat wash through him, and instantly felt guilty all over again. He reached out his hand and squeezed Chris's thigh in apology.

Nothing. No reaction. Not a smile, not a quick retort, nothing. Vin frowned and squeezed again.

"I'm tryin' to drive here..." The words were icy, and Chris would not look at him.

Vin swallowed. Heck, now he had made Chris really mad. Time to eat some humble pie Tanner, he told himself.

"I'm sorry Chris...I know it's my fault we're late... but early mornin's just sort of get to me like that..." Putting on his best apologetic grin, Vin reached out to stroke Chris's neck, knowing it was one thing the blond found hard to resist.

"Keep ya damn hands to yerself!" Chris spat the words out in a low growl, and Vin recoiled like he'd been stung.

Fortunately, they were just pulling into the ATF parking garage, and Vin suddenly felt relieved that they would soon be at work, where he could at least avoid the Team Leader for a few hours until he calmed down.

Chris did not speak as they walked to the elevator, nor on their way up to the office. He flung open the door to Team Seven's bullpen and glared hard at Buck, who was poised to say something, but instantly thought better of it. Without a word to anyone, he strode to his own office and slammed the door shut, so hard the windows rattled.

"And a cheery good morning to you too, Mister Larabee", Ezra said quietly from his desk.

"Sheesh! What crawled up Chris's butt?" JD asked, shaking his head.

The door to the bullpen opened again, and a miserable looking Vin trailed in and gave everyone a half-smile and an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry... he's a bit pissed 'cos we're late again..." he said softly, slinking into his chair with a slight blush.

Buck frowned. Something had set his radar going. A feeling, a sense of something - something he couldn't quite get a handle on at the moment - what was that expression his ma had used? Like someone walking over your grave?

Chris flung himself into his chair and a long, shuddering breath escaped him. He stared down at his trembling hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers in an effort to regain some control over his body. His senses felt numb, yet horribly raw and exposed, like someone had stripped his nerve endings and left him a mass of confusion and pain.

He had no idea how he had survived the journey to work - only sheer iron determination had prevented him from pulling the Ram over and... and what? His heart began to thump painfully in his ribs, fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage, as bewilderment washed over him again in a sickening wave and the cold stabs of something that felt horribly like betrayal began gnawing at his insides. The words of that note played across his mind over and over again, like some ghastly visual incantation he couldn't stop.

I never say your name, but you're always in my heart. Thank you. I Love You, Too. Vin

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of that tell-tale little gift tag, but it remained, clear and sharp as a photograph. I Love You, Too.

Dear God, Vin? His Vin? His partner, his friend, his lover, his...life? Yes, he realised with a sharp pang of real pain, that was true. Everything that was good and real and honest and worthwhile in his life now was down to Vin, and Chris simply could not face the prospect that all that he had become with the young Texan might be crumbling around him.

Chris's chin slumped to his chest. Dear God, Vin? Chris had loved very few people in his life, and paid a crippling price for bestowing that love. He was a man who gave his heart very rarely - frequently choosing loneliness rather than risk hurting or being hurt - but when he did give it, the gift was total. Absolute. And he had given that gift freely to Vin. He simply could not believe Vin would betray that.

His wife and son had been taken by fate, his parents by time; neither of which Larabee had been able to fight, even though he had tried damn hard to do so. Was the man that now formed the very centre of his existence also to be taken from him - and this time by something - or someone - that he could fight? If so, Chris thought with a hard wave of jealousy, then whoever it was, better be prepared for a long and bloody battle.

The note flashed again in his mind's-eye. I never say your name, but you're always in my heart. Thank you. I Love You, Too. Vin

Was it possible? Could Vin love someone else? If that were the case, then why hadn't Chris sensed it? Hell, he and Vin were like two halves of the same whole... or were they? Real fear gripped him then, his very world seeming to tremble on its' foundations as the shadows crept over him - dark, cold and menacing.

Dear God, had he been fooling himself? Had he given to Vin everything he was, everything he believed, only to find out that it was too heavy a burden for the young sharpshooter to carry? Had he smothered Vin? Chris knew only too well how wary and panicked Vin became when things began to close in on him - had Chris unwittingly driven away the one thing that made his sorry life worth living?

Doubt, anger, jealousy and raw pain reeled around his system like a maelstrom; his head ached, his eyes hurt, his body shook with the enormity of the emotions that rocketed through him. More than anything, Chris Larabee felt the bitter surge of fear creeping through his heart - a fear so real he had no idea how to fight it or how to escape it.

 

+++++++

 

Buck raised his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time to Chris's office door - it remained firmly closed. Vin kept glancing at the damn piece of wood like he was willing it to open, and everyone else fidgeted like they had ants in their pants. Finally, Buck decided he ought to intervene. Whatever had happened between his oldest friend and the young sharpshooter had settled over the team like a cloud, and Buck's big heart needed to see it sorted out before anyone suffered any more. Squaring his shoulders and giving JD a raised eyebrow look, he unfolded his long frame from the chair, strode to Chris's door, knocked once, and, without waiting to be asked, went in.

The instant Buck's dark blue eyes fell on Chris, the feeling of déjà vu hit him like an almost physical blow. The blond sat motionless, his hands clenched together on the desk in front of him so hard that the knuckles were bloodless white, his head bent so his chin almost rested on his chest.

This was a Chris Larabee that Buck hadn't seen in a while, and had hoped never to see again. This was his oldest friend in pain. Buck waited without speaking. He didn't have to wait very long.

"Stay outta this, Buck."

"Can't do that Chris."

"It's none of your business."

"You're my friend, that makes it my business."

Chris raised his eyes, without raising his head, and Buck almost winced at the pain he saw in them. "Don't push it, Buck - I ain't in the mood."

"No shit! And there's everybody out there thinking you're fixing to hold a party..." Buck hoped the acerbic remark might goad Chris into a response - hell even shouting would be okay - before this got any worse - whatever the hell 'this' was. Right now he had to play whatever cards he had in his hand, and they were looking pretty useless. Where the hell was Ezra when you needed him?

"Stow it, Buck... and close the door on your way out."

Buck stood his ground. "You and Junior had a fight?"

No response.

"Serious?" Buck pushed a little more.

No response.

"He thinks it's 'cos you were late again... but I sure as hell don't. What is it Chris?"

"I ain't gonna say it again Buck... stay outta this..."

"Why don't ya just talk it out with him Chris - what ever it is? He's sittin' out there with a face like a kicked puppy...lemme just get him in here..."

With a roar, Chris shot out of his chair and vaulted clean across the desk. Buck jumped, momentarily startled, but didn't take a step back. His troubled indigo eyes met Chris's flaming green ones as the Team Leader pulled back a fist. Buck didn't flinch - Chris didn't land it, just as Buck had known he wouldn't. The tension radiated off Larabee like a wave of heat. His muscles trembled, his face twitched and when he spoke, the words were a gritty whisper. "Don't interfere... you hear me? I don't need you pokin' your goddamn nose in where it ain't needed and where it sure as hell ain't wanted... you got me?"

With a sick feeling churning in his stomach, Buck looked straight into Chris's eyes. Whatever had hit his oldest friend, it had hurt deep - deeper than Buck had seen since... suddenly Buck recognised the emotion he saw reflected. It was fear. Chris was afraid. What the hell was going on here?

+++++++

 

Inez looked over to the corner table and chewed her bottom lip distractedly. Her hand hovered over the telephone. She didn't want to, but all her instincts were telling her she had little choice. Chris had been sitting in the same seat for several hours, the level in the whiskey bottle before him going down at the same rate as his mood. He was trying to get drunk - that was obvious. And he was alone - that was worrying. Half of her mind was telling her to mind her own business, the other half was telling her she needed to help this man she liked and respected enough to number among her few friends. Her teeth continued to worry her bottom lip for a few more moments. With a sigh and a brief nod, she picked up the phone and dialled.

"Wilmington." Buck's voice sounded strained, even that one word.

Inez took a deep breath. "Senor Buck? I think your friend may need a cab."

Buck winced at the words. It was a simple phrase that he and Inez had chosen long ago as a sort of code; back in the days when Chris's heart was still broken over the death of Sarah and Adam, and the blond had tried to numb his searing pain with whiskey and oblivion.

Buck and Inez had tried to protect him as best they could. The simple words were designed to let Buck know that Chris was heading for the bottom of a bottle and Inez was getting concerned about him. The phrase was innocuous, just in case anyone at either end of the conversation happened to overhear it - but it rang a loud and clamorous alarm in Buck's memory. Goddammit!

"Thanks Inez - I'll be right there."

Buck looked across the office to where Vin sat at his desk, his lean frame slightly hunched over as if in pain, his eyes staring, unseeing, somewhere in the middle distance.

The same question turned over and over in Buck's mind. What the hell was going on here?

Buck stood up and strolled across the room, perching himself on the edge of Vin's desk. Troubled blue eyes raised themselves to his face.

He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "Vin... I know this ain't any o'my business, but you got any idea what's goin' on?"

Vin shook his head. "Bucklin, if I knew, don't ya think I'da done somethin' 'bout it?" He sighed, his shoulders slumping further. "All I know is, I done somethin' thas' got Chris madder 'n a stepped-on snake, I jist gotta figger out what...", he looked straight into Buck's eyes and Buck saw real fear in the young Texan's face. It made his blood run cold. "Unless...."

"Unless what?"

Vin inhaled deeply - a long, shaky breath. "I bin thinkin' 'bout it ... 'an I'm thinkin' mebbe... mebbe... he's changed his mind." He words were so soft as to be almost a whisper.

Buck frowned. "'Bout what?"

"Us", Vin said, voicing the fear that had been running wild in his mind since that morning.

Buck put a large hand on Vin's shoulder. "I'll go talk ta him... see if we can't get to the bottom of this."

Vin smiled weakly. "'Preciate that, Bucklin."

Suddenly Vin felt claustrophobic, like the walls were rushing in on him. Without looking at any of his teammates, he bolted from the office, in search of coffee and a few moments out from under what felt like the constant scrutiny of the others.

JD's fingers were flying over the keyboard as he replied to the instant message he had just received from one of the ATF's software guru's. He was certain he had found a glitch in their new firewall system, all he had to do was explain it to the anonymous 'expert' who refused to read the messages he was sending with any degree of seriousness. He was barely aware of Buck's presence when the lanky agent stood beside his chair.

"JD - do me a favour? Take Vin back to our place tonight - I'm gonna get Chris and take him home, 'n I think it might be better if I stay out at the ranch and you 'n Vin stay at home, okay? Just grab some take-out and don't let him go back to the ranch... JD? You listenin' ta me?"

JD nodded, only half aware of the words. The guy on the other end of this message was a moron! "Yeah, I gotcha Buck - take Vin home..."

"Our home, not the ranch - got it?"

"Yeah, yeah..." JD was starting to lose his temper - if this idiot didn't read his message properly he was gonna pick up the phone to the senior IT manager and tell him in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought of their software development team.

Buck picked up his keys and strode from the office, his face set in a deep scowl.

 

+++++++

 

Inez indicated Chris's position with a swift nod of her head when Buck entered the Saloon. Buck saw his oldest friend seated alone at the corner table, his head bent, one long-fingered hand cradling a half-full glass of whiskey, and nodded his thanks to beautiful barkeep, who gave him a swift smile that was gone almost before it registered on her face. Hunching his shoulders a little in an unconscious gesture, Buck walked across the room and sat down opposite Chris. Larabee did not look up.

"I ain't in the mood for company, Buck."

Wilmington shrugged. "I ain't offerin' it - only want a drink."

"Then buy yer own."

"I figure you owe me one."

Chris raised his eyes and Buck noticed, with a stab of anguish, that the green gaze looked bleary, although the pain in it was now unmistakable. He wasn't drunk - yet, but he was a ways off sober. "For what?"

"The warm welcome I almost got from your fist..." Buck ventured without a smile.

Chris stared at him. "Hell Buck! I didn't even land the damn punch."

"You thought about it."

"Yeah, but I didn't do it."

"I knew you wouldn't."

Chris shook his head - an almost imperceptible gesture. "You couldn't have - I didn't even know myself."

"I still knew you wouldn't."

A twisted smile crawled across Chris's face. "Thas' somethin' thas' always amazed me 'bout you Buck..."

"What?"

"You've always had more faith in me than I have."

Now Buck did grin. "Ain't bin misplaced yet..."

Chris's chin fell back almost onto his chest. "No...", he said so softly that Buck almost didn't catch the words, "I'm the stupid bastard with that problem..."

Almost. But Buck had caught the terse comment. His brain raced as he tried to decipher what lay behind those words. Time - he needed to buy some time to think. "So, you gonna give me a drink, or what?"

Chris pushed the bottle across the table.

"Ain't gotta glass - c'n I borrow yours?"

With a feral grin, Chris drained the glass he was holding and slid it across the table to Buck, who poured a small measure for himself. At least he now had the bottle. He stalled for time as he raised the drink to his lips, trying to piece together the information. Vin was upset, and clearly bewildered about what had riled Chris. Chris was doing something Buck hadn't seen his friend do in a long time - try and drown whatever had rattled him in a whiskey bottle, and the hurt in his eyes was painful to see. And what was that comment all about? Misplaced faith? In whom? Vin?

Buck thought quickly. "Ya hungry? I missed lunch and my stomach feels like my throat's bin cut." He smiled winningly at his friend, knowing Chris had to be hungry, and hoping that the whiskey hadn't taken too much of the edge off it. If he could get Chris out of here, perhaps they could talk. "My treat", he added.

 

+++++++

 

The Italian bistro was almost deserted when Buck and Chris entered, the bell above the door announcing their arrival. Buck had chosen this place on purpose - it was one of his favourite 'first date' locations. Small, nearly always quiet on week nights, the tables set in separate booths, with unobtrusive staff and excellent pasta, it had seemed as good a place as any to try and drag some sense out of the recalcitrant and troubled man who now trailed behind him.

They sat down at a table near the back of the restaurant, and Buck studied Chris whilst pretending to read the oversized menu. He already knew the dishes almost off-by-heart and food was the last thing on his mind at the moment. The waiter materialised almost silently at his side and took their order for a bottle of Chianti Classico and two spaghetti carbonara, then Buck looked across the table at the serious expression on his best friend's face and his resolve hardened. "So..." he said at last, "you gonna sit there with a face like the wrong end of a mule all night, or you gonna talk to me?"

Chris sighed, then lifted a tired green gaze to Buck's expectant face. "Tell me somethin' Buck - exactly which part of 'mind your own goddamn business' are you having trouble with?" he said quietly.

Buck's dark blue eyes glittered. "The part that's lookin' at me right now. The part that says in letters ten feet high - my friend is hurtin' an' he needs help... the part that says the pain must be bad for it to affect the team and him not to notice..."

Chris's eyes flashed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Buck had played his trump card and it looked like he had won the hand. A cheap trick maybe, but if dangling a little guilt in front of Chris by making him think the team had been affected by his behaviour would get him to open up, then Buck would use it without compunction. He felt quietly elated, but schooled his expression carefully so as not to show it. He was definitely spending too much time around Ezra. He shrugged coolly.

"Chris... I don't know what's eatin' you, but I do know that for most of the day, the atmosphere back there was so thick you couldn't have parted it with a machete! Ezra's been sharpenin' his wits on anyone who gets near enough, Nathan's been givin' everybody those 'looks' that always mean bad news, and JD's bin as miserable as a hooker in a convent..." Buck lied. He consoled himself with the thought that the lie was only a slight exaggeration of the truth, and pushed on regardless. "You know how they are, Chris. You gotta keep 'em focused, keep 'em up ta speed, and to tell you the truth, I ain't as good at ram-roddin' that bunch o' renegades as you are...an' you ain't bin glarin' 'em inta line today..."

Chris considered Buck's words for a moment, twisting his fork around in his long fingers and staring at it intently. Buck could sense Chris's resolve beginning to weaken and decided to move in for the kill. "Chris, I known you a long time - hell, longer'n either of us probably wanna remember... 'n all I know is the Chris Larabee in front of me now is a guy I ain't seen for a while, an' to tell ya the truth, a guy I weren't in no great rush to ever see again, 'n if I can get rid o' this guy, an' get my friend back, I'd be right grateful to ya..."

The waiter appeared with their food, giving Chris time to take in what Buck had said. Buck waited, but his patience was impaired by his concern for Chris. "Look Chris, " he said steadily, "I know this has got somethin' ta do with Vin, and God alone knows I don't wanna go pokin' around in yer love life, but..."

"There's someone else..." Chris said quietly, unable to meet Buck's eyes, "Vin's in love with someone else... I found the proof this morning..."

Buck dropped a forkful of spaghetti carbonara all over the pristine white tablecloth.

 

+++++++

 

JD snagged the ringing telephone. "Dunne", he said smartly.

"JD?" Casey's breathless voice carried a smile, even though he couldn't see her.

"Casey! I thought you were working late!"

She giggled. "Well, we got finished much earlier than expected - so I was wondering... if you aren't too busy of course... " she let the sentence trail off.

JD lounged back in his swivel chair, grinning broadly at the ceiling. "Why, Miss Wells! I'm a Federal Agent - always busy in the service of our government..."

"Too busy to take me to the movies?"

"Let me check my schedule - would you hold the line a moment, please ma'am?"

Casey laughed lightly. "So, can you make it, or do I gotta ring Brad Pitt?"

"I think Mrs Pitt might have something to say about that - so, rather than risk upsetting a match made in heaven, I will agree to take you to the movies. I'll pick you up in half an hour, okay?"

"It's a date - and you get to buy the popcorn!"

It was only as JD put the phone back down he remembered he was supposed to be taking Vin home. He wouldn't have time to do that and be back in time to pick up Casey. A small twinge of guilt nagged at him, he *had* told Buck he would do it... Ezra was still sitting at his desk, typing up one of his infamous reports, which Chris always said should come in kit form with a thesaurus and a pack of Tylenol included. Vin was in the break room, brewing another pot of 'Tanner's Revenge'. JD sauntered across to Ezra's desk and cleared his throat.

"Can I assist you with somethin' Mr Dunne?"

"Errr Ezra, I, um, I... have a date tonight..."

"I doubt you require my assistance with *that*..."

"No... well, yes... well, no... it's just that I kinda promised Buck I'd take Vin home.... an' if I do that..."

Ezra arched an eyebrow. "... you will be late for the delectable Miss Wells?"

JD nodded. "Would you mind takin' Vin home?"

Ezra smiled. "Not the slightest inconvenience, I assure you."

"Oh thanks Ezra! I owe you one!"

"Think nothing of it Mr Dunne", Ezra's gold tooth glittered, "far be it from me to place obstacles in the path of true love", he said glibly, completely unaware that he was, in all innocence, about to do exactly that.

 

+++++++

 

"That's the stupidest thing I heard in my whole life!" Buck spluttered, trying to tidy up the mess he had made on the tablecloth with a red linen napkin - the result of which was that both items would now need laundering and the pasta was steadfastly refusing to co-operate. "Goddamnit Chris, I simply can't believe that! Hell, you and Vin are like salt and pepper, bacon and eggs, ... there ain't no way he'd ever do anythin' to screw up what you two got! Besides, you didn't see his face today, he's as confused about this as I am..." He paused in his unsuccessful attempts at tidying up the mess he had made, and looked hard at Larabee's stony expression. There was long pause.

"Geez...you're serious, ain'tcha?"

Chris nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Buddy, listen ta me...", Buck finally gave up with the napkin, and rested both elbows on the table, his gaze holding Chris's with total conviction. "I ain't pretendin' ta know what's goin' on in your head or your heart, but I do know somethin' 'bout human nature. You was turnin' inta the sorriest son I ever laid eyes on 'til that scrawny piece o'skin 'n bone turned up, an' he weren't doin' no better - skulkin' through life like a stray hound who never found a fire ta sleep by. I admit it - I had my doubts 'bout him at first...", he grinned as a flash of memory returned to him, "...an' I'd put a lotta hours an' a lotta heartache inta savin' your sorry ass... I watched the two of you, circlin' each other like two prize fighters - sizin' each other up, workin' each other out...you was both scared'r 'n a teenager on prom night ta begin with... then somethin' started ta change... it was like... like watchin' you come back to life...an' watchin' him realisin' he was alive... I tell ya, Chris, I was more'n happy ta take a back seat when I realised what you two was doin' for each other...", he paused again, frowning as he fought to find the right words, "...you both suffered more'n a body should have to, an' you both come out the other side of it 'cos of each other... 'n I don't believe either of you are damn fool enough to throw that away..."

Chris wanted to believe him. More than anything in the world, Larabee wanted to believe that Buck was right. His mind whirled, but his body was bone-achingly tired, and he felt every day of his forty plus years. At that moment, he would have happily given up feeling for the rest of his life. His heart felt like it was tied to a pendulum - one moment a zing of bright euphoria when he was convinced he was wrong and there was a simple explanation for all this - the next lurching into sick despair when the words that simply would not stop went round his head yet again, and the shadows reached out to crowd in on him.

I Love You, Too.

They were not words Tanner used lightly, that much Chris did know. Hell, it had taken them months of being together before Vin had uttered those four precious words to him. There was no way Vin would write something like that without meaning it. And if that were true, and Tanner did mean it, then that didn't leave too many options...

Chris toyed idly with the cooling spaghetti on his plate. It looked like he felt - tangled, confused, and rapidly congealing into a solid mass only fit for the garbage. There was one, tiny thought in his head that just might offer a glimmer of explanation. A thought that had come and gone a hundred times in the past few hours - a thought he had originally dismissed out of hand as being a completely irrational clutch at trying to make some sense out of this, but it wouldn't be dismissed that easily. He looked up at Buck, who raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Buck.... awww hell, this is too stupid for words...."

"Chris - after the day we've had, nothing is too stupid... spill it, Stud..." Wilmington's concern echoed in his warm voice.

"I... I was wondering if...", Larabee took a deep breath, deeply troubled by what he was about to contemplate, but confused enough to latch onto anything that could even loosely begin to sort out his beleaguered imaginings. "Do you think... could it be... a woman?"

To Chris's intense relief, Buck didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. He returned Chris's gaze with steady, unflinching eyes.

"Not unless I'm the worst judge o'character that ever drew breath - an' that, we all know, just ain't the case..." Buck said easily, but without a trace of humour in his voice. "Where did that come from, Chris?"

Larabee shook his head, his gaze dropping again to the mess of food on his plate. He closed his eyes. "What could I say, I mean really Buck, what could I say, if it is? I mean, I was married... so I know it ain't impossible! All I can think of is that whoever this is, it must be someone who can offer Vin somethin' I can't... God knows, that list is long enough, but... but...", he faltered, looking up again into Buck's eyes, "...supposing it's someone who could offer him marriage... a child... a real family... God, Buck, thas' somethin' he's wanted his whole life! I know how precious that is... and, if he's got the chance for it... how in the name of heaven could I deny him that?"

Buck's hand hit the table sharply, making the cutlery clatter and the wine almost slop over in the glasses. "Chris - that's crap and you know it! Vin don't want no woman. Shit, if he'd wanted that he coulda had his pick from every filly in the goddamn ATF from day one. Jesus, they're still throwin' themselves at him every day! An' you and I both know that there's more than one kinda family - what we got may not be what other folks call normal - but God knows it's strong and true an' a damn sight more of a real family than most people with half a dozen kids got...an' one thing I know for certain", the dark blue eyes shimmered, "... Vin understands that just fine - hell, he's taken more'n one bullet provin' it!"

Chris sighed and rubbed a shaking hand over his face. "I just don't know any more Buck...this mornin' I thought I had everythin' and tonight I feel like someone stole my life..."

Buck smiled wryly. "Well, they didn't steal me, an' I bin part o'your life for long enough to qualify - so what d'ya say we head on out o'here an' see if we can't locate a bottle of that single malt I know you got hidden away from Ez back at the ranch?"

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Chris actually smiled. Yet again, Buck Wilmington's strong spirit and seemingly bottomless heart was determined to hold onto him, keep him balanced and steady, drag him back from whatever threatened to engulf him and, yet again, Larabee knew he could spit, fight and claw to escape it, but the attempt would be futile - Buck would win in the end - he always did because he simply did not know how to give up where Chris was concerned.

Thank God.

+++++++

 

"Mister Tanner? It appears you have the dubious honour of me as chauffeur tonight, as Mr Dunne has been summoned by his paramour - are you ready to depart?"

Ezra smiled at the still cheerless sharpshooter, a wave of sympathy washing over him as he looked at Vin's haggard face. It had not been an easy day, and Ezra wouldn't have blamed Vin at all if he had no desire to return home to a stony-faced Chris Larabee and an atmosphere that would probably strip paint from steel. Standish smoothed an imaginary crease from the sleeve of his jacket and waited.

Vin shrugged. "Sure... I guess... whatever you say Ez - you're the driver..." He had to face Chris sometime - might as well be sooner as later.

Somewhere inside him, Vin was trying to come to terms with whatever awaited him at the ranch. The sickening puzzlement that had started this morning had not abated, he had simply spent all day trying to strengthen his defences as best he could. Worst of all was that he had absolutely no idea what had sent Chris spiralling into this foul mood; it was as if someone had thrown a switch - one moment his beautiful, loving Chris, the next a snarling, spiteful creature who Vin felt as if he hardly knew. All he *did* know was that Chris was hurting and somehow, he was responsible - and that was the hardest thing of all to take.

With downcast eyes he locked his desk and pulled on his jacket. "'Preciate the lift Ez." He'd better say it now, he thought, whilst he still felt it - just in case he changed his mind later.

Vin was completely silent as they descended in the elevator to the parking garage. Ezra frowned. His 'psychic radar' was as astute as Buck's, just tuned to a different wavelength - and right now that radar was telling Ezra that something was very definitely out of synch with this scenario. His multi-faceted skills were invaluable when working undercover, and over the years he had developed an almost uncanny knack of assessing human nature. All his senses were screaming at him that this was wrong - in every sense of the word, yet he didn't quite have enough of the pieces to fit the puzzle together correctly. His frown deepened. It was like trying to put together a jigsaw without the benefit of the picture on the box.

They walked across the almost deserted parking level side by side, but without speaking. Ezra pressed the button on his key fob and the lights on the Jag flashed as the central locking deactivated.

Would that human problems could be unlocked in the same fashion, Standish mused. All he needed was the correct key - but at the moment he felt as if he couldn't see the proverbial wood for the equally proverbial trees. Perhaps Mr Larabee might be able to furnish some of the missing pieces.

 

+++++++

 

Chris and Buck sat in the huge den at either end of one of the sofas, an open bottle of Glenmorangie and two glasses on the small oak table before them. There was something else on the table - a small gift box that Chris was steadfastly refusing to look at.

Chris's mood was darkening since they had arrived back at the ranch and he had handed the 'evidence' to Buck with distinctly shaking hands.

For long moments, Buck had simply gazed at the small, beautiful object in the box and the equally small gift card that had been the catalyst for all this. The words jumped off the card, unmistakable, indefensible and unquestioningly written in Vin's own hand.

He had carefully put the lid back on the box and placed the offending article on the table, his mind racing to try and make sense of what seemed so senseless.

Chris's heart had been in his eyes when Buck finally screwed up enough courage to look at his friend.

Larabee swallowed. "So?"

Buck shrugged. "Shit, Chris... I just don't know..."

The defeat that covered Chris's face in that moment turned Buck's heart over.

It was happening again, Wilmington thought with a sudden stab of savage fury - yet again Chris Larabee's soul was being shredded and Buck felt utterly powerless to do anything to prevent it. All he could do was what he had always done - be wherever Chris needed him to be, ready and waiting to try and pick up the pieces and put them back together. A shiver ran through the long body when he thought about it. This time there just might be too many pieces for even Buck Wilmington's stubborn spirit and strong grasp to hold on to.

Chris had drained his glass with one swallow and instantly refilled it. God knew it didn't solve anything, but it did make the pain a little softer around the edges, and blurred the mind almost enough to stop the constant whirling of his thoughts.

Buck was almost as confused as Chris. He had been so sure, so unswervingly certain that Chris had misinterpreted whatever he had found, had somehow gotten his wires crossed and plunged himself into some sort of self induced deception, but now? Now, Buck Wilmington realised, it was beginning to look as if Chris was right - and if he was - then the ramifications for all of them almost didn't bear thinking about...

His deliberations were disturbed by the sweep of headlights through the window. Buck stood up, and, to his consternation, saw Ezra's Jag drawing to a halt on the gravel drive. He turned to Chris. "It's Ezra... what's he doin' here?"

The words were barely out of Buck's mouth when he heard the soft scrape of a key in the lock and he realised that Standish was not alone. Alarm raced along his nerves and froze him to the spot.

Shit! Vin was with Ezra! Now what?

It was too late to do anything constructive, the two figures were already coming into view.

Chris stood up, picked up the little box and stuffed it into his trouser pocket, just as Vin and Ezra walked in, Tanner scanning the room with a wary eye and taking in Buck, Chris, the whiskey bottle - and the crackling tension that was almost palpable.

Buck stiffened. Shit - he was gonna kill JD! Vin wasn't supposed to be here! Why wasn't he at the CDC with JD, and why the hell had Ezra just calmly brought him back here as if it were the most normal thing in the world?

Chris was holding on by a thread at the moment, and the sight of Vin might just be enough to snap that fine line and send Larabee spiralling into Lord-alone-knew what.

Buck drew in a sharp breath, his eyes flicking from Chris, who looked as tightly wound as a watch spring - to Vin, who looked like he was poised ready to flee - eyes wide and wary, sparks of panic flashing in their soft blue - to Ezra, whose glittering green gaze met his steadily with a slightly perplexed expression.

You could have cut the atmosphere in that room with a knife.

Vin spoke - the words halting, nerves emphasising the soft drawl. "Ya....ya feelin' any better, Chris?"

The words hung in the air, suspended.

For a long moment, Chris didn't respond. He stared hard into those blue eyes he had thought he could read with such accuracy, and waited for his world to stop spinning. It didn't.

Vin tensed, his whole body taught with anticipation. Chris looked so... angry? No, not angry. Afraid... Chris looked afraid. Suddenly Vin felt afraid, too. His heart missed a beat.

"I found it", Larabee's hoarse croak almost choked on the words.

Vin's eyes betrayed nothing. The alarm in them faded a little, until he looked genuinely mystified, as if he had no idea what Chris was talking about.

Chris felt his heart swing again - Vin couldn't lie like this - he just wasn't capable of it! Just say it Vin! his mind screamed. Just say it out loud and put us all out of our misery - for God's sake!

"Found...w...what?" The words were barely audible.

With a sneer, Chris thrust his hand into the pocket and drew out the little box, willing his hands not to shake as he did so. Very slowly, he put it down on the table, his eyes never leaving Tanner's face.

They all saw it.

Buck, Ezra and Chris all watched as the colour drained out of Vin's face, leaving it white with shock.

They all stood dumbfounded as his wide blue eyes filled with a sudden fear, raw and real, and Buck felt as if someone had punched him.

There was no mistaking that expression - it screamed one word - clear as crystal and loud as thunder.

Guilt.

+++++++

 

Vin began to shake, eyes wide with panic. "Oh God, Chris... I'm so sorry... Oh God...ya found it...Oh dear God..."

The words were cut off suddenly as Larabee sprang across the distance separating them and, before anyone could do anything to prevent it, punched Tanner's face with all the force he could muster.

Vin's body almost toppled, his head snapped sideways, and almost instantly, his nose began to pour with blood.

The sharpshooter reacted on instinct, whirling around before he could fall, his body coiling and contracting into a half-crouch, arms coming up in readiness to fight, but he didn't retaliate. He simply watched in horror as, with a groan, Larabee dropped to his knees, his arms curled around his own body, his shoulders began heaving, and ragged sobs broke noisily from his throat.

The ghastly tableau remained frozen for a few seconds before Buck came to his senses, dropped onto his knees beside Chris as he circled the trembling shoulders with a strong arm, and looked up at Ezra. "Get Vin outta here... now... before they kill each other!" he hissed at Standish.

Ezra nodded, walking slowly up to Vin with his hands outstretched in a calming gesture, seeing the wild dread in the sharpshooter's eyes. Vin was wired, balanced precariously on the edge of instinct, adrenalin flooding through him. Blood ran down his face, dripping in fat, round drops and blossoming on the front of his shirt, but he seemed unaware of it.

"C'mon Vin... it's okay... come with me... come on.... we'll sort this out...", Ezra's voice was soft and steady, his eyes locking onto Vin's without a trace of fear, and Vin felt his heart slow a little.

Barely aware of it, he allowed himself to be led by Ezra out of the room and back to the door. Standish glanced over his shoulder and stared pointedly at Buck, who nodded quickly, just once.

It was going to be down to them to sort out this sorry mess, but at this precise moment, neither of them had the vaguest clue how they were supposed to start.

 

+++++++

 

The Jaguar's dash lights gave a ghastly green tinge to Vin's pallor, shadowing the hollows of his face, making the blood still dripping from his nose look a revolting shade of maroon/black. The young sharpshooter resembled nothing more than a living Halloween mask, Ezra thought as he drove, as fast as he dared, back towards the city.

Neither of them had spoken, not even when Ezra had handed Vin a freshly laundered handkerchief to try and staunch the flow of blood from his nose. The best Vin could manage was a weak travesty of his usual smile.

Despite his silence, Ezra's mind was working overtime. The tiniest beginning of a possible explanation for this bizarre series of events had taken root in his agile imagination, but he had to attend to Vin's immediate needs before venturing further with his idea.

Ezra was so deep in thought, the journey passed much more rapidly than usual, and with a start he realised he was turning the Jag onto the inclined driveway of his townhouse.

He turned to Vin, smiling gently, keeping his voice low and even. "We're here..." he said, knowing Vin was barely aware of where he was.

Vin frowned, but opened the door and climbed out.

Ezra pushed the front door open and reached around to flick on the lights, before motioning Vin into the hallway in front of him.

In the clearer light Ezra had to fight to keep his emotions from registering on his face. Vin looked awful - ashen-faced, with the beginnings of what promised to be a truly glorious black eye beginning to show around his cheekbone, dried blood caked to his face, liberally laced with the brighter red of the still flowing nose. His shirt was spattered with blotches of dark semi-congealed blood, and his hands were covered in it. But worse, much worse than that, was the utter defeat in his normally vibrant eyes. They looked flat, lifeless and completely devoid of emotion. His shoulders slumped, his whole frame seemed stooped and bent, as if a huge weight were pressing down on him. Ezra felt a wave of compassion for his friend wash over him.

"First things first I think, Mr Tanner. You need a hot shower and a change of clothes, then some food would be in order, I think..."

"Ain't hungry Ez..." The soft drawl sounded pained.

Ezra nodded, deciding he would cook something anyway. "As you wish... this way..", he said, leading Vin to the immaculate guest bathroom and retrieving a pile of thick navy blue towels from the cupboard before reaching into the shower and turning on the water. "Please..." he said with a gentle smile, "take as long as you want."

Whilst Vin was in the shower, Ezra raided his dressing room, eventually selecting clean underwear and socks, a brand new pair of jeans that he hadn't yet got around to having shortened and would probably therefore fit Vin's longer legs, a grey Calvin Klein t-shirt and a black cashmere and cotton mix sweater. He knocked smartly on the bathroom door and opened it just enough to put the clothes inside. The room was full of steam, the shower still in full spate. Ezra retreated to the kitchen, discarding his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his Armani shirt as he went.

By the time Vin emerged, Ezra had laid the small table in the breakfast area of his large kitchen, opened a bottle of very good claret, and was putting the finishing touches to a second frying-pan-sized ham and mushroom omelette - the first one was keeping warm in the oven.

Vin hovered in the doorway, looking uncomfortable, but much cleaner and a lot less haggard. His hair was still damp, and his face looked strained and drawn, but he definitely looked more human than he had in the car. Ezra smiled.

"Come in Vin... sit down and make yourself comfortable."

Despite himself, Vin's stomach growled when the aroma of the food finally registered. He felt considerably better if slightly out-of-character in Ezra's clothes. He realised that the sweater he was wearing probably cost more than his entire wardrobe. At least his nose had stopped bleeding - he didn't want to get blood all over Ez's fancy clothes. He sat down in the little dining alcove, taking in his surroundings.

He had been to Ezra's before of course, but had never known Ezra cook or invite anyone for dinner, so Standish's kitchen was undiscovered territory. Vin was surprised at how comfortable and domestic it looked. Warm terracotta walls, hung with stylised prints, plus a large framed map of the wine regions of France. Concealed spotlights cast bright cones of light onto the pictures. The table and chairs were Shaker style, simple and tasteful. The alcove was semi-divided from the main kitchen area by a low cupboard and counter unit, styled in natural wood and topped by a huge wooden bowl full of fruit and a lamp.

Ezra lifted the second omelette onto a warm plate, then opened the oven and retrieved the first, before carrying them to the table. Vin watched as he walked back across the kitchen to the fridge and produced a bowl of green salad and a bottle of dressing.

Finally satisfied with the meal, Ezra sat down and picked up the wine bottle. "Would you care for a glass of wine Vin? Or can I offer you a beer?"

"Wine's fine... thanks...ya didn't have to go t'all this trouble... an' thanks for the loan of the clothes...", he said, blushing a little and feeling rather out of place.

Ezra shrugged. "It's no trouble at all - I'm hungry and therefore felt it fairly safe to assume that you must be as well - and, as for the clothes - well, that sweater looks much better on you than it ever has on me, and you could hardly sit around in blood-soaked garments all night..."

The mention of Vin's blood shattered the illusion of civilised conversation, and both of them stared at each other, Vin's eyes widening with the memory of what had happened.

"Oh God Ezra, what have I done?" he whispered eventually, and to his horror, Ezra saw tears fill Vin's eyes and slide down his cheeks in total silence.

The southerner reached out a hand, placing it gently on Vin's forearm, and looked steadily into the young Texan's battered, bewildered face.

"Eat your food before it gets cold, then we will talk for as long as is necessary to sort this out - and I promise you Vin, we will find an explanation", he said, with such conviction that Vin felt his heart lurch.

If Ezra Standish can 'sort this out' I will be in debt to him for the rest of my life, Vin thought.

+++++++

Buck could hear music. It intruded on his dream - mixing with the images in his imagination. No - not music exactly, more like...

His eyes opened a little as he dragged himself back into the land of the living. His cell phone was ringing. He had left it in his jacket pocket, and the jacket was hanging over the arm of the sofa, next to where he had dozed off. He winced as his muscles protested their annoyance at the unconventional way he had fallen asleep - long legs draped over the table in front of the sofa - head tipped backwards and one arm curled uncomfortably to try and pillow his jaw. The ringing stopped and Buck realised his message saver must have switched in. He winced again, trying to stretch his completely deadened left arm and rubbing his face distractedly with his right hand.

It was light, he realised. He could see low, thick grey clouds outside the window. Light, but still early. Who the hell could be ringing him at this hour on a Saturday morning?

Suddenly, as his brain began to fire on all cylinders, the events of the previous day came back to him in a rush. He turned his head to the right. Chris was sprawled across the other end of the sofa, stretched out on his stomach, his head resting on his right arm, his long body covered with a quilt. The half empty whiskey bottle sat on the edge of the hearth. Buck remembered Chris eventually falling asleep - nervous exhaustion finally getting the better of him. He remembered covering the still form with the quilt and sitting down at the other end of the sofa to keep watch - just in case. Then he remembered nothing else until his ringing phone had woken him.

Shit! The phone! He scrabbled in his jacket pocket. He had missed three calls. Shit! He punched the buttons and held the phone to his ear.

One: "Mr Wilmington..." Ezra's voice, but he seemed to be speaking much more quietly than usual, almost a whisper. "Please call me as soon as you get this message - it is very important."

Two: "Mr Wilmington..." Ezra again, still quiet, but with more urgency this time, "I need you to call me as soon as possible...", there was a long sigh, typical of Ezra when his patience was beginning to desert him, "...I hope you have not succumbed to the temptation to drown yourself in alcohol rather than attempt to aid our friends?"

Three: "Buck!" Ezra again, and when he resorted to using first names, it was either in sympathy or frustration - and somehow, Buck thought, this was much more likely to be the latter. "Phone me - now!"

Extricating himself from the sofa with another wince, Buck padded softly to the kitchen, punching the short dial code for Ezra. He didn't even hear one ring the other end before a honey-dipped southern accent hissed, "Standish - and this better be you, Buck!"

"Yeah - s'me Ezra - now what the hell is so goddamned all-fire important?"

There was a slight pause. "Buck... I have ascertained the root of the problem between our young sharpshooter and Mr Larabee, and I am certain I can resolve it... but I need your help..."

"Anything ya need Ezra... jus' name it..."

Ezra looked at the slumbering form of Vin Tanner, curled on his leather sofa, the gaunt, exhausted face relaxed a little in sleep, a huge, bluish bruise stark over the left eye. That accusing injury, and a tangle of soft chocolate coloured curls, were all that remained visible above the thick quilt. Ezra smiled gently and took a breath.

At the other end of the conversation, Buck's eyes widened at Standish's next, unexpected, words, as Ezra said softly, "I need you to trust me - just for a few hours..."

+++++++

 

Thick clouds, the colour of old lead, hung gloomily in the sky - glowering and threatening, heavy with the promise of rain. Chris's face was a fairly accurate reflection of the heavens as he sat beside Buck in the passenger seat of the Ram - unspeaking, unsmiling and with a hangover the size of Colorado. He wasn't at all sure why he was even here - save that it was sometimes easier to just do what Buck wanted rather than try and argue with him - especially if your head was pounding and your tongue felt like old shoe leather.

Wilmington had shaken him awake at some ungodly hour, thrust him into the bathroom with terse instructions to "shower, shave and shake his sorry ass into gear" - then almost force-fed him toast, orange juice, aspirin and two large mugs of black coffee, before manhandling him into his own truck and taking off down the driveway like a bat out of hell, and all without a single word of explanation.

He looked across at Buck, who was edging over the speed limit as they sped towards the city, his face set in a determined mask of concentration - his mouth a thin line below the dark moustache.

"Where are we goin'?" He winced as the words reverberated around his skull.

"Denver."

"'S a big place Buck... where exactly?"

"Ya wanna shut up and let me drive, Stud?"

If Chris had been a little more coherent, he would have recognised the worry etched on Buck's face. At that moment, Buck Wilmington was more worried than he had been for a very long time. His telephone call with Ezra had raised as many questions as it had provided answers, and Buck was uncomfortable with going into this situation 'blind'. He wasn't sure why he had even agreed to Ezra's suggestion, but he knew that Standish had Vin and Chris's well-being at heart, and that was enough for Buck to trust him - at least for now.

Sometimes Ezra showed remarkable insight and was inherently capable - he wasn't Team 7's legendary undercover operative for nothing - he had the ability to think ahead, sometimes at a tangent that it took Buck a while to latch on to - but he was almost never wrong, and Buck trusted his motives completely. For all the southerner's irritating idiosyncrasies, Wilmington knew he had a loyal and steadfast heart, despite his best attempts to disguise it. Dear God, Ezra, Buck thought with real fervour, don't make this the first time you screw up - please!

Eventually, the Ram drew to a halt in a quiet street on the city outskirts. A street that Buck knew well - even though he wished he didn't. He said a silent prayer as Chris turned to him, pinched-faced and hard-eyed.

"What the hell are we doin' here, Buck?"

Wilmington took a deep breath and hoped Chris was too hung over to spot the deliberate lie he was about to tell. "I just thought it might help..."

Chris's eyes flashed, his headache receding as anger started to heat his blood. "Well, you thought wrong - now turn this fuckin' truck around and take me home - right now!"

Buck took the keys from the ignition and turned to face him. "No, Chris... not yet... please - just give it five minutes... please?"

Larabee shook his head. "I don't know what kind of sick joke you're playin' here Buck, but I ain't in any kind of mood for your stupid, half-assed attempts at 'help', and I ain't getting out of this fuckin' car..." The words were bitten off, hard, and acid-etched with barely concealed rage.

Buck shrugged. "Suit yourself - I am!" He clambered out of the Ram, shoved the keys into the pocket of his jeans and slammed the door - hard.

The wind blew cold, damp gusts into his face as Buck walked through the gate, silently begging Chris to follow him, and praying that Standish had played this right.

He could see Ezra, further along the wide central path, waiting - elegant as always in a dark wool trench coat. He seemed to be alone. Buck walked towards him, his mind racing.

*Come on Chris! Don't be a stubborn asshole!*

A few more strides - still he hadn't heard the car door.

*Larabee, you sorry sunovabitch - please just do this... please...*

A few more steps - he could see Ezra clearly now - poker face in place as usual.

*Goddamnit Chris! Just once... just this once... do what I ask without a fight...please...*

Buck walked up to Ezra, their eyes meeting. Standish's face was a mask of indifference but, as Buck watched, he saw the green eyes flash - just once, and heard the sound of the Ram's door slam. Buck closed his eyes and breathed out - almost a sigh of relief.

He had kept his part of the bargain - now it was all up to Ezra...

 

++++++

 

Buck watched as Chris approached, walking with his head bent, shoulders hunched, hands thrust into the pockets of his long black duster, the wind ruffling his hair. He looked the picture of dejection and misery. Buck's heart ached for him.

Chris did not look up until he was only a few feet from them, and the shock registered in his eyes when he saw Ezra. He glared at Standish - his frayed nerves evident in the taught muscles of his jaw, the tension radiating off that slim frame almost visible.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" The accusatory words flung at the southerner were a savage hiss.

Ezra didn't flinch from the barbed voice. Buck admired his cool exterior - the undercover persona creating a shell over what Wilmington knew had to be churning emotions underneath.

When Ezra spoke, he did so quietly, his voice low and even, the normal southern drawl adding softness to his words, but his eyes holding Chris's in an iron grip. "I'm here to introduce you to the other person in Vin's heart, Chris... the person he bought the gift for... the person he loves but is too afraid to tell you about in case it causes you too much pain..."

Ezra nodded slightly to his left.

Chris looked at the horribly familiar sight of his wife's grave. His thoughts whirled for a moment as he tried to take in Ezra's words.

Sarah?

Vin?

What? What? What the hell was Standish on about?

Vin?

Sarah?

His world reeled about him, tilting frighteningly, and he gasped.

Oh God, of course! Of course!

Suddenly, everything fell into place in Chris's heart and mind, and a torrent of shame and guilt engulfed him in a searing wave of gut-wrenching pain.

Vin hadn't lied to him - hadn't betrayed him... he had bought the gift for Sarah... as a way of telling her how much she meant to him, how much he valued the love of the man she had been forced to leave behind.

Oh dear God, he hadn't even given Vin time - hadn't given him even the opportunity to try and explain - the man he professed to love, and he had denied him even the slightest benefit of the doubt. Just the typical rampaging Larabee - he'd gone steaming off, accusing, setting himself up as judge and jury, lashing out at everyone who tried to help, and he'd been wrong - horribly, woundingly, and irredeemably wrong.

His heart pounded, his head spun and he hurt like he had never hurt before.

He deserved to feel this way. He was a stupid, arrogant, ignorant hot-head who had lost...no, not lost Larabee, thrown away the respect of his colleagues and the unquestioning love of other half of his soul. He had ripped Vin's heart to shreds and not even allowed him the opportunity to defend it.

He deserved to feel this way for the rest of his sorry life.

Chris felt his knees buckle, but he didn't fall. He found himself caught by two pairs of strong arms - one almost as familiar as his own, and one unexpected, but every bit as supportive and powerful.

"We've got you Chris... we won't let you fall." Even in Larabee's swirling emotions, one thing registered clearly.

It had been Ezra who said those words.

It took several moments for Chris to find the strength to support his own weight, his mind still reeling, his thoughts a churning mass of confusion and horror. He gulped in huge gasps of air, trying to steady his quaking body - a body that threatened to be overwhelmed by the realisation of the enormity of his mistake.

Eventually, he felt the grip on his arms release slightly and found he could stand. He couldn't look at either Buck or Ezra, he could only stare at the ground, willing this nightmare to be over - to be somewhere, anywhere, else -rather than here, trying to face the situation he had created.

Buck looked at Ezra over Chris's bent form, disquiet in his eyes, but a hint of something else - hope. Then, at the periphery of his vision, over Ezra's shoulder, he saw someone else. Vin. Standish caught the look and twisted his head around. He nodded, and he and Buck both stepped back as the figure moved towards them.

Chris was unaware of Vin's approach - he was still fighting a battle with his raging emotions, trying to regain his composure, get his laboured breathing under control and force himself to think.

Buck and Ezra retreated a few steps as Tanner drew nearer - cautious, edgy, silent as a flake of ash, his eyes wide and startling blue against the paleness of his skin and the horrible discolouration of the bruising, but in those eyes too, Ezra could see a trace of that same hope.

Chris sensed it - instinctively, intuitively. He hadn't heard Vin, couldn't see him, but he felt the presence. He turned around, and his clear green gaze collided with those incredible blue eyes that had illuminated his life and banished the shadows that had held him.

Vin almost gasped at the raw pain he saw in Chris's eyes, it seared him to his very core. Dear Lord, what had he done? He was responsible for this - this was all his fault and there was no way in hell that he could ever put this right.

Then, as he stared, he saw something else in those crystal green eyes...hope.

Tanner couldn't speak - emotion had robbed him of his voice - he could only stand, riveted to the spot by that glittering gaze, and wait.

Buck and Ezra watched silently as two halves of a damaged soul began to come together again before them.

"I'm so sorry..." Both voices, one a raw whisper, the other a soft drawl, spoke the identical words in perfect synchronisation.

Ezra allowed himself the smallest smile, and gently tapped Buck on the shoulder. "Our work here is done I think", he whispered.

They turned and began to walk away, without looking back. "In one spirit meet and mingle..." Ezra quoted quietly, as they strolled towards the gate.

"What?" Buck looked puzzled.

"Just a little thought Mr Wilmington - not mine- rather, that of one Mr Percy Shelley..."

"Who's he?"

Ezra grinned widely, his gold tooth gleaming. "Someone who was even more romantic than you are."

Buck grinned back. "Well Ezra, ya oughta know that just ain't possible!"

A laugh escaped Standish then, the relief he finally allowed himself to feel finding a voice. "Come along you reprobate", his eyes twinkled at Buck, " as I suppose I now have to give you a ride home?"

Buck smirked. "Yep! 'Fraid so Ez... ain't even got the Ram keys..."

Ezra narrowed his eyes. "Where are they?"

"Slipped 'em into Chris's pocket..." Wilmington replied, a huge feeling of satisfaction making him feel light headed.

"You are completely beyond redemption, Buck..."

"Hell Ezra, ya could always try tellin' me somethin' I don't already know..."

 

+++++++

 

"God Vin... I know I don't deserve it, but will you give me a minute to try and explain?" Larabee's voice was hoarse with emotion, and he almost flinched at the sight of Vin's swollen, bruised face.

Vin stood perfectly still, but his eyes were alight with feeling. "Was my fault Chris..."

Larabee shook his head fiercely. "No... no! I never even gave you the chance to explain... I was so stupid... I tell you I trust you and then doubt you at the first hurdle..."

"Ya can't have trust without truth Chris... an' I should've told ya the truth from the get-go..."

Vin's soft voice cut into Larabee like a knife. God - how could he have ever doubted Vin?

"I thought I'd lost you", Chris's voice almost cracked with the weight of the thought those words prompted.

A crooked smile flittered across Vin's features. "I didn't understand that until Ezra 'splained it ta me... after I tol' him who I bought the spirit gift for... I jist thought you was mad 'bout me buyin' somethin' fer someone I didn't have no right to..."

Chris groaned. "Right? Right? God, Vin - you got every right! I didn't think it through, hell, I didn't think at all.... I just reacted.... I'm just a blind, stupid, pig-headed idiot who thought you were gonna leave me... an' I was so damn scared... so fuckin' terrified you'd go..."

Vin took a step forward and placed his hand across Chris's mouth, cutting off the flow of self-recrimination. "I doubted you, too, ya know..." he said softly, his brow creasing into a slight frown as he tried to voice his feelings. "...I know how much you still hurt for her Chris, an' I thought you'd hurt more if'n I told ya the truth... that although I never knew her, never met her... I know that she helped make you inta who you are...inta the best thing that's ever happened ta me... an' I love her for that... she had ta leave ya Chris, but if she hadn't, I couldn't ever have had ya, and God knows, I'll be grateful to her fer that fer the rest o'my days... " The words were low, almost a whisper, and he drew in a long, shaky breath. "I jist didn't think you was strong enough ta hear that... an' me doubtin' your strength was more wrong than anything else..."

They paused, both breathing heavily, their eyes locked together, as the first raindrops began to fall. Vin let his hand drop from Chris's face, watching the feelings racing within those green eyes. Suddenly, Larabee's arm snaked out and circled Vin's shoulders, pulling the slim form to him in a warm, forgiving, redeeming embrace, resting his chin on Vin's head and closing his eyes with gratitude that Vin's heart was big enough and strong enough to believe in both of them. Dear God, what had he done to deserve this kind of love? And not once, he reminded himself, but twice. Most men would die for less.

Vin went into the warm circle of those arms willingly, his head resting on Chris's shoulder, his heart full to bursting with the power of what he felt. The rain began to fall faster, and Chris opened his eyes to stare over Vin's curls at Sarah's headstone, through the gathering strength of the downpour.

"She's tellin' us to get the hell outta here and go home..." he said quietly, releasing Vin.

"Yep... an' I reckon she's a lady who generally gets what she wants ..." Tanner said in agreement.

A faint smile touched Chris's mouth. "You have no idea, ...come on, let's go back.... oh shit!"

"What?" Vin said in quick alarm, knowing that Chris, hell, both of them, were still on a razor's edge of emotion, and wary of something upsetting the moment.

"I ain't got the damn truck keys! Buck drove us out here...." he patted the pockets of the long duster and felt something. Pushing his hand into the left pocket, he grinned, and withdrew the keys and the little box. As usual, Buck had thought of everything. He'd swing for Wilmington yet!

He saw Vin blush when he caught sight of the box, but Chris held it out to the sharpshooter and nodded slowly. "Go on..." he said gently, "she always loved presents..."

Vin took the box shyly from Chris's outstretched hand and carefully walked beside Sarah's grave, crouching alongside her headstone. Carefully, he scooped a couple of handfuls of the earth aside, and placed the little box in the shallow hole, covering it again with the damp soil.

Chris watched, the words Vin had written turning over in his mind.

I never say your name, but you're always in my heart. Thank you. I Love You, Too.

A beautiful thought, expressed as only his sharpshooter could. It was true, Vin never mentioned her name, but his heart was so inextricably mingled with Larabee's own, where Sarah's love still resided, it was the most natural thing in the world for Vin to feel it too.

Vin looked up at him, through the rain, his eyes wide and impossibly blue. He rose, and was beside Larabee again in a moment, his face serious. "The feathers are for her spirit Chris... ta keep it strong an' help her fly..."

Chris said a silent and heartfelt prayer of thanks to his dead wife for her help in keeping this extraordinary young Texan in his life and in his heart. She'd needed some help this time, though, he grinned. Had to rope in two earthbound angels to help sort this mess out.

And Gabriel himself could not have come up with two more unlikely angels than Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish. Still, Chris mused, as Josiah was always sayin', "the Lord works in mysterious ways...", and the Lord, Chris could verify, had nothing on Sarah Larabee when she set her mind to it.

 

+++++++

 

They jogged back to the Ram through the pelting rain, both now so wet there seemed little point in getting out of breath as well. By the time Chris started the engine, Vin was already shivering. Chris turned the heater up full. "Get outta that wet sweater - there's an old flannel shirt on the back seat... and hurry - I don't wanna have to drag Nathan out 'cos you've got pneumonia!" He smiled at Vin and his heart thumped when Tanner smiled happily back.

Vin pulled the sopping sweater over his head and Chris noticed him looking at it worriedly.

"What?" he asked.

"S'Ezra's...prolly cost a fortune an' I've ruined it..."

Chris grinned. "He probably fiddled it on expenses anyway - and I doubt it's ruined - if it shrinks we'll just tell him I tried to launder it!"

Vin leaned over and grabbed the over-large, creased shirt from the back seat, pulling it around himself and settling down with a sigh of contentment.

"Now that looks much more like you!" Chris said with a laugh, suddenly feeling dizzy with relief.

"Ya sayin' I'm scruffy?"

"No... but you ain't Ezra Standish, either! Somehow, I don't think Armani and Gucci are quite your thing, Vin..."

"Sound like mobsters ta me..." Vin giggled.

"If Ezra heard that, he'd say you were a heathen or a Philistine..."

"Well, I'd jist tell him I'm neither... I'm a Texan!" Tanner winked broadly and Chris felt a familiar warmth tugging at him. He reached out a hand to touch Vin's face, his fingers trembling as he looked at the purplish bruising.

He touched the tell-tale marks with infinite care. "God Vin, I'm so sorry...." Tanner reached up and grabbed Chris's hand at the wrist, planting a soft kiss in the centre of the palm.

"S'okay ...ya was afraid 'n hurtin'...s'nothing...", he breathed, enveloping Larabee's index finger in his soft mouth and sucking gently. Chris breathed in sharply, feeling his pulse pound, pushing all his blood straight to his groin.

"Ya better concentrate on yer drivin' tho', otherwise this may all be wasted..." Tanner mumbled around Chris's finger, sheer devilment lighting sparks in his eyes.

Chris pulled his hand back to the steering wheel reluctantly, wondering what his chances were of getting a speeding ticket on a wet Saturday morning.

Worth it, he decided, and hit the gas.

By the time they reached the ranch house, the rain was torrential, sheeting down from the sky as if someone had upended a bucket. Chris unlocked the door as fast as he could, and the two soaked figures almost fell through it in their haste to get out of the storm. Even before the door was closed, Vin's hands were on Chris's chest, pushing him up against the wall with a breathless snarl and capturing his mouth in a savage, hungry kiss.

Chris was giddy with the speed of the assault, the feel of Vin's tongue swirling across his teeth and into his mouth, the intoxicating scent of the sharpshooter's rain-washed hair. He groaned, tightened his arms around the lithe body, and returned the breath-stealing kiss.

It was only the need to breathe that finally separated them, chests heaving for lack of oxygen, limbs shaking with want and need. Chris looked at Vin - the raindrops still sparkling in his hair, his face flushed and still wet, his eyes full of fire - and felt the powerful surge of raw desire and overpowering love that he had been so terrified he would never feel again.

"What?" Tanner breathed, seeing the emotion flare in Chris's face.

"I thought I'd lost you... lost this..." Larabee said thickly, closing his eyes against the memory of it. Two hands cupped his face and he opened his eyes again, finding his vision full of the iced fire and simmering intensity of Vin's gaze.

"Well y'ain't... I'm here... an' I ain't goin' nowhere..." a wicked grin stole across that sinful mouth, "'less you c'n think of somewhere you'd rather be?"

Chris smiled back wolfishly. "Hell, yes! Outta these wet clothes for starters...", he arched an eyebrow, "...then I thought I jus' might go in to the office for a coupla hours..."

"In that case, cowboy," Vin said, leaning the full weight of his body up against Chris, "... I feel I oughta tell ya...

I got some different ideas about 'goin' in' ... an' they're a whole lot more fun than that..." He rotated his hips against Larabee's aching groin and licked his lips. "But..." he shrugged, "course...if y'ain't interested..."

Chris thought he might pass out. Or explode. Before he could do either, he felt Vin start to shiver and practicality surpassed passion - at least for the moment.

"Yer gonna catch yer death!" he said grimly, "now get outta them wet clothes before I do have to phone Nathan!"

"Reckon I am a mite chilly...", Vin said sadly, pulling away from him and beginning to walk up the hallway towards the bathroom. He paused, and turned around to shoot an evil glance over his shoulder. "Ya could always offer to give me a hand", he said softly, "seein' as how I'm 'injured' 'n all..."

Chris shook his head, but he didn't need asking twice - shedding his soaked coat onto the floor, he hared after Vin, who took off like a sprinter, laughing.

By the time Larabee made it to the bathroom, Vin had a large towel in one hand and was pulling off his boots with the other. "Yer getting' slow ol' man..." he teased.

"You're a goddamned smart-ass Texan Tanner, and when you get yourself dried off - I'll show you who's 'old'" Chris growled, his heart warming at the familiar banter. God, how he loved this man - and how could he have ever doubted him? He looked again at Vin's bruised face - evidence of his temper, his doubt, his anger... his fear, and he sighed as the guilt stung his conscience, hard.

Vin, who had stripped off his t-shirt and socks, and was in the process of unbuttoning his, or rather Ezra's, jeans, stopped, and turned to face him, understanding in an instant.

"I don' blame ya Chris... an' I don' want ya punishin' yerself fer tryin' ta protect yer feelings..." He reached up and touched Chris's face with long, gentle fingers. " You was hurt, an' confused... was a misunderstandin'... thas all..."

"There's other ways of sortin' out a misunderstanding that don't involve hitting out", Chris said bitterly.

"It's okay" Vin assured him in that soft, calming voice, "It's okay because I love ya, 'n I know that you love me..."

"Oh Jesus Vin, how can you believe that when I did somethin' like that to you?"

Smiling, Vin moved his hand down to Chris's partially unbuttoned shirt and slid it inside, to rest over his heart. "'Cuz I'm here in you..." he grabbed Larabee's hand and held it firmly over his own chest, "...and you're here in me... I c'n feel it... that's how I believe it..."

"You're a marvel Tanner, y'know that?"

Vin winked. "What happened to 'you're a goddamned smart-ass Texan, Tanner'?"

"I'm gonna shoot your sorry ass one day, I swear...!"

Vin finished pulling off his wet jeans and underwear, then wrapped one towel tightly around his waist and snagged another to swirl around his shoulders. "Well, I kinda had other plans fer your ass Larabee...", he smirked, striding past Chris and out into the bedroom, "course, if you'd rather stand there insultin' me fer the rest o' the day..."

Chris felt the jolt of electricity race along his limbs and ignite his nerve endings. His jeans suddenly seemed at least two sizes too small. With shaking hands, he began to pull off the rest of his soaked clothes, demonstrating the old adage, 'more haste, less speed' most effectively, he thought, swearing under his breath as he tried to peel the wet, unyielding denim over his rapidly swelling crotch.

"Well?" the taunting voice came from the bedroom, "ya comin' or not?"

"You ain't that good!" he snarled back with a grin, wrapping a towel around his hips, "I gotta at least be in the same room!"

Vin was sitting cross-legged on their enormous double bed, towelling his hair vigorously. He paused when Chris approached, and Larabee's heart did a somersault when he looked at the wild, tangled curls framing that face that was so ingrained in his soul he couldn't imagine how he had ever lived without it.

"Yer lookin' at me like ya wanna eat me..." Vin smirked.

"Your smarter than you look, Tanner", Chris said with a leer, launching himself onto the bed with a leap and knocking Vin over onto his back before claiming that sassy mouth in a bone-melting kiss, their tongues twisting and tasting each other in perfect unison, hands gliding over satin-toned skin, fluid swathes of muscle and hard angles of bone - feeling, touching, knowing as surely as they breathed that this was so right, so perfect, that nothing else mattered.

"I need you, Vin..."

"I'm right here cowboy, an' always will be..."

"I love you, an' right now I want you so much it hurts..." Chris mumbled against Vin's neck, his mouth nibbling at Vin's jaw, lighting the fire of raw want in his belly.

Vin felt that heat flow through his own body - the longing that only Chris had ever been able to ease, building in him, and he arched reflexively as those strong hands travelled over him. A noise escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and he pushed at Larabee's shoulders, rolling the blond onto his back and turning instinctively with him, their bodies in contact along their entire length. His lips left Chris's to lay a trail of searing, moist daubs along and down - jaw, neck, shoulders, chest, interspersed with smooth licks of his tongue and sharp nips of his teeth, fuelled by the guttural noises of passion emanating from Chris's taught, stretched throat.

Chris was drowning, sinking in a fathomless depth under that magical, taunting mouth - his flesh sparking, his nerves screaming. He was barely aware of Vin's strong fingers unwrapping the towel from around his hips and then moving with practised sureness, drifting over his abdomen and thighs - touching, stroking, feather light caresses that burned into his soul. All he knew was that he needed ~ Lord God how he needed ~ the touch, taste, feel, scent of Vin - it was as much a part of him as the lifeblood that now pounded through his veins, catapulting him to full, aching arousal.

Vin's mouth travelled lower, sucking on the ridges of hip-bone, sweeping and licking the flat plane of abdominal muscle, as slowly, agonisingly slowly, his fingers wrapped around Chris's aching, swollen cock. "Jeeesus!" Larabee hissed as that touch struck through him like lightning, convulsing his muscles. "Oh God, Vin...please..."

"Sssshhh...", Tanner whispered against him, and he shivered at the sensation of that breath against his skin, "s'okay...I'm gonna make it all okay..."

Larabee groaned again as Vin's tongue tracked a hot, wet path along and up the sensitive flesh of inner thigh, then he arched wildly with a strangled sob as the sharpshooter took the length of him into that soft, delicious mouth and sucked firmly, his tongue lapping and stroking the hot, silky length. Chris was burning, aching, every part of him filled with need - fierce, sweet and hot.

He began thrusting instinctively, lost in that feasting, ferocious mouth, those strong, gentle hands. His body twisted and thrashed against the bed, his skin dampening with sweat, his muscles, nerves, his very soul, on fire.

An anguished cry tore from his throat as he felt Vin's mouth leave him, but in a second those soft lips claimed his again, fleetingly, and he felt the heat of Vin's body stretching over him.

"Need ya Vin.... please... " the words were a searing whisper.

"Sssshhh... s'okay..." Vin soothed, his own voice cracked and straining, his body trembling as he moved himself between Chris's legs.

"Oh God, Vin...please..." Chris begged, then almost screamed, as he felt cool, slicked fingers between his thighs, gently exploring, softly stroking, seeking, searching and finally, entering him.

"Now, Vin!.... Please..." Chris plunged downwards onto those fingers to enhance the sensation, but a restraining hand on his hip held him firm.

"Easy cowboy... easy... nearly there..." Vin's voice was unsteady, his fragile grip on his own body deserting him, but he held himself in check, his love and patience winning the battle with own consuming need, as it always did, as it always would, where Chris was concerned.

He fought his raging emotions until he was sure he could continue without causing Chris any pain, then slid forward, finally, gently, slowly, entering his lover's body with a shuddering sigh, into that grasping warmth that stole his senses and fed his soul.

Chris tensed momentarily, then the incredible sensation of Vin filling him, melting into him, loving him as no other ever had or ever could, took over, and he surrendered to the feel of his blood becoming molten lava in his veins, dissolving his bones. Vin waited, unmoving, his breathing hard and heavy, his body rigid as he held himself still, refusing to give in to his desire until Chris was ready.

"M...m...move Vin...please ..." he said at last.

Vin responded, agonisingly slowly at first, long, easy thrusts that sent white heat through Chris's whole being, stealing his breath, robbing him of everything save the unquenchable desire that seared through him. His hands reached for Vin's body, his eyes opened and met with Vin's shimmering blue gaze, his senses melding seamlessly with the Texan.

Their rhythm began to build, quicken, becoming more urgent, gentleness and restraint crumbling in the depths of such power and passion. He felt Vin's fingers move to surround his aching, throbbing shaft and loosed a wordless howl as that hand moved in perfect counterpoint to the thrusting of his body.

"Oh Jesus! That's it!! Ohgodohgod..."

"I'm with ya...always...ohhhh Chrissss...."

The fire rose, built, engulfed them both, as with every long, sure stroke of Vin's body into his, Chris lost more and more of his self control, becoming a creature of raw emotion, his overwrought senses screaming for release.

He felt the change in Vin, sensed him losing control, felt it in the quickening of his thrusts, heard it in his fight for breath, his whispering of Chris's name, over and over again. Chris went with him to the brink, relinquishing everything to Vin without question, without doubt, without fear.

For the merest tick of time, it was as if they hung suspended, joined in far more than just the physical, a meeting of the very essence of both of them - heart, mind, body and soul, as they carried each other in an explosion of blind, total, elemental power over the edge and into that place known only to the two of them, that bright, searing place of total love - where no shadows fall.

A single thought flashed through Vin's mind at that moment, the same thought that always filled him when he and Chris fell into the abyss together - if he could choose a moment to die, he would choose then, when their spirits flew together, because no other moment could ever be its' equal.

"VIINNN!" Chris screamed as orgasm ripped through him in pounding waves, erupting from his body with a force that contracted every muscle.

That sound and the feel of Chris's body tensing with such primeval force, sent shuddering spasms through Vin, triggering his own boiling climax deep inside his lover's body. He cried out with the intensity of it, his head thrown back, every sinew straining to prolong the moment and keep them conjoined in every sense for as long as possible, but neither of them could ever hold onto that moment for as long as they wanted to.

Eventually Vin had to surrender to his shattered body's demands, his muscles relaxed and he collapsed in a boneless heap into Larabee's shaking arms.

Chris held him, feeling that heartbeat pounding in perfect synch with his own, stroking that sweat-soaked hair with a gentle hand, his other arm a living bond that steadied and protected that exhausted body, as the two of them slowly floated back down to Earth.

There was nothing hurried, no sense of urgency, just a languid, quiet calming of two spent souls, safe in the knowledge that here and now, nothing existed save the two of them.

Eventually, Chris felt Vin move and looked down at him, meeting those blue eyes that searched his face with their clear, frank gaze.

"All gone?" Vin asked at last.

"What?"

"Whatever it was that made ya so afraid..."

Chris nodded, enfolding Vin in a warm, safe embrace. "It was like....like a shadow... cold, dark, somethin' I couldn't grasp...", he murmured, trying to find words for something that now felt far away.

Vin's eyes never left his - strong, clear and true, they bored into his soul. "Well, the thing you forgot 'bout shadows is...", he said softly.

"What?"

" S'only 'cos you was lookin' the wrong way... all ya gotta do is turn around - ya can't see shadows unless yer already standing in the light..."

Chris Larabee looked into VinTanner's face and fell in love all over again.

 

~ The End ~

 

Well, there it is...my first purple plot bunny is now at rest...though I somehow have the feeling it won't be the last...