By SueN.
C/V; ATF AU
NOTE: Italicized sections
are flashbacks.
WARNING: This story
deals in a way with the events of September 11, 2001, and includes
memories of the images from that day. It is, I hope, an ultimately
uplifting, life-affirming story, but if that day and all it evokes
still upsets you, please don’t read any further. Thank you.
Memento Mori
The weak light of early morning
had barely begun filtering into the bedroom through the blinds
but Chris Larabee was already awake, had been since the first
blush of dawn. He was in no hurry to leave the bed though, but
was content to remain right where he was, sitting up, his back
against the headboard and cushioned by pillows, his gaze fixed
on the man who still slept beside him.
God, he could look at Vin forever.
Tanner lay on his side, facing
him, long brown hair falling across his face and throat and spread
over his pillow in a tousled wealth, and it was all Chris could
do not to reach out and stroke the silken locks that drew his
fingers like a magnet. But Vin looked so peaceful that Larabee
didn’t have the heart to disturb him. His face was relaxed as
it only was in sleep, devoid of the instinctive wariness he wore
like a shield in his waking hours and untouched by the age that
had nothing to do with years. Dark lashes lay like feathered crescents
against skin softly flushed in sleep, his full lips were slightly
parted, and one slim, bare shoulder peeked above the covers in
a shyly enticing reminder of the lean, hard body that was hidden
from view.
Last night he’d enjoyed the pleasures
of that body to the fullest. Right now, though, what he felt for
Vin had nothing at all to do with sex and everything to do with
love. And as he let his eyes drink their fill of Vin’s unconscious
beauty, he felt the full depth and force of that love rising through
him in a hard, fierce wave, over-filling his heart and soul, robbing
him of breath and bringing the sharp sting of tears to his eyes.
Oh, God, God, what would
he do, what would he be, without this man in his life?
He finally drew a ragged breath
and briefly closed his eyes, trying to banish the question from
his mind. Because even as he asked it, he already knew the answer.
He’d been down that dark and twisted path once before, had almost
lost his soul to the searing agony of such a loss, and had no
desire ever to journey into that hell again. Vin had been his
salvation then. To lose Vin would be his final damnation.
He shook his head to clear it
of such thoughts and opened his eyes, fixing them once more on
his sleeping lover. Like a man lost in the desert for too long
but suddenly stumbling upon a spring, he drank in Vin’s nearness
greedily, quenching his soul’s thirst with life-giving water.
In this as in all things, Vin
Tanner was his oasis.
Chris gave a small, wry smile
at his uncharacteristic sentimentality and ran a hand through
his unkempt blond hair. He’d been harboring such thoughts all
weekend, had been startled by the intensity of emotions that seemed
to overtake him from nowhere, and only now fully understood why.
It was the day, this day,
Memorial Day. The day set aside to remember those who had fallen
in service to their country, to commemorate their sacrifice and
to take stock of what that sacrifice had won for those who remained
behind. For a full month now, newscasters, experts and pundits
had been predicting that the holiday would mean far more to Americans
this year than simply the unofficial beginning of summer, would
carry with it a profundity and weight that would surely strike
a chord within an entire nation’s consciousness. And Chris had
expected that, too.
What he hadn’t expected, and
hadn’t prepared himself for, was for it to hit him like a falling
mountain.
True, Memorial Day had always
meant more to him than just another excuse to fire up the grill.
His six years in the Navy SEALs after college and then his subsequent
career in law enforcement had given him a deep appreciation of
the singular meaning of this day. He’d watched too many comrades
fall, had attended too many funerals with flag-draped caskets
and the haunting refrain of Taps, had flinched from too many 21-gun
salutes not to feel this day in the most visceral part
of his being. But nothing he’d felt in previous years came anywhere
near what was throbbing through him now.
And, like everyone else in the
country, he could trace this feeling directly back to September
11th.
He scrubbed his hands over his
face and then, realizing that these thoughts were not going
to go away, pushed back the covers and got carefully out of bed,
determined not to disturb Vin. He knew that if he stayed, the
intensity of his feelings would somehow reach Vin even through
sleep, like some kind of psychic overspill. He still didn’t quite
understand it, but he’d seen it too often to doubt it. They’d
become so intimately bound up in each other, were so acutely attuned
to each other, that it seemed the thoughts and feelings of one
belonged equally to the other.
He stared down at Tanner’s unlined,
placid face a few moments more, then turned and padded silently
out of the bedroom so his lover wouldn’t be caught in the avalanche
when the mountain came crashing down.
It was one of those moments
in life when everything literally stopped, when the heart
stopped beating and the lungs refused to take in or let out air,
when the world ceased spinning and the whole of human existence
was reduced to a devastating blow to the gut and a searing pain
in the soul. As one, a whole nation dropped to its knees in shocked
disbelief and loosed a cry of shattering grief.
In his den, Chris Larabee
did the same.
But he never felt his knees
connecting with the hardwood floor, never heard the wordless cry
torn from him. All he knew, all that existed for him, was the
horrible image on his television of a jetliner slamming into one
silver, shining tower while its already stricken twin burned.
Oh, God, God, Jesus God, it
was no accident.
Unable to take in the enormity
of what he was seeing, unable to comprehend the truth shrieked
out by those mortally wounded towers, he simply knelt and stared,
never feeling the tears running down his cheeks, numb to everything
except the terrible ache building in his heart. Like so many others
in an anguished nation, he watched and wept as flames and smoke
rose to the heavens, carrying countless souls upon them.
It was too horrible even for
him to feel sick.
Instinctively he reached out
for the man who was his surest anchor when his world was torn
from its moorings, only to remember belatedly that Vin wasn’t
with him. Wasn’t even in Denver, and wouldn’t be until later today.
He’d been at a conference in Boston since the previous Wednesday,
attending and presenting seminars on the latest developments in
weapons, tactics and training. It was an elite gathering of the
best of the best in federal law enforcement, and Tanner had been
picked to take part not by Chris, not even by AD Orin Travis,
but by the top Bureau boys in Washington. Team Seven had damn
near burst its collective buttons at the honor done their unassuming
sharpshooter, while that sharpshooter himself had done all he
could to slink out of the spotlight. And Chris more than anyone
had beamed with pride even as he’d threatened to shoot Vin if
he didn’t get his scrawny, complaining ass on that plane and show
the folks back East how they did things out West.
But he felt no pride now,
only the empty ache that came with knowing his anchor was gone.
He had no idea how long he
knelt there, how long he bled from wounds he couldn’t see. When
finally he was roused from his stupor, it wasn’t by the voices
that seemed to be babbling nonsensically from the television,
but by the shrill, insistent ringing of his phone.
God, please let it be someone
calling to say it was all a very bad hoax!
Somehow he climbed to his
feet, then stumbled to the phone. As his shaking hand pulled the
receiver from its cradle and raised it to his ear, he heard Buck’s
voice – thin, strained, broken – and knew it was all horribly
real.
“Yeah,” he whispered shakily
in answer to Wilmington’s equally unsteady question, “I’m watchin’
it now.”
Then came another blow, one
he hadn’t seen coming and couldn’t possibly defend against. It
hit him square in the heart, and even as he went to the floor
again he wondered how he’d missed hearing it before.
Two of the four planes that
had been turned into weapons that beautiful, shining morning had
taken off from Logan Airport.
Logan was in Boston.
Vin was in Boston.
And Vin had told him just
last night that he’d managed to get an early flight back.
Vin was supposed to be flying
out of Logan this morning.
Chris settled himself in one
of the chairs on the porch and gazed out into the distance, his
long fingers curled about a steaming cup of coffee. He’d thought
about that awful day so many times over the past eight months,
and each time the pain grabbed his gut just as it had then. For
the first few agonizing moments after Buck had spoken the word
“Boston” into the phone, he’d sat on the floor, literally knocked
on his ass, unable to see, to breathe, to think, unable to do
anything except shake violently in mindless terror.
Reason should have told him that
Vin wouldn’t be on either of those planes. But that had not exactly
been a morning where reason held sway.
Sensing that, Buck had stayed
on the line with Chris while directing JD to contact the others
and send them to the ranch. They’d all gotten there in record
time, even Ezra, deathly pale and deeply shaken to a man, yet
each instinctively knowing that what little comfort could be found
would only be found in the company of the others.
As it always did in times of
trouble, sorrow or hurt, the wolf pack had closed in upon itself,
and the whole had immediately found a strength lacking in its
individual parts.
Except that one part had been
noticeably missing.
Chris sipped at his coffee, no
longer even attempting to stop the onslaught of memories. They
were going to come whether he wanted them to or not. And maybe
it was time he let them, time he tried to understand the message
and meaning in them.
Wasn’t remembering, trying to
reconcile life and death, gain and loss, what Memorial Day was
all about?
He sat back, drank his coffee,
and let the mountain fall.
An hour after the others arrived,
the call came, and he found he could breathe again.
“Chris.” The voice was raspier
than usual, betraying the strain of emotion, and held an uncharacteristic
quaver. But it was blessedly familiar and blessedly real. “I’m
all right, y’ hear me? I’m all right.” Vin hadn’t even
given him a chance to answer, had just rushed on with much needed
reassurances uttered in that beloved drawl. “I wasn’t on either
’a them planes, cowboy. I’m here at the airport ’n I’m in one
piece ’n I swear, Chris, I swear ta God, I’m gonna git back ta
you if I have ta crawl all the way ta Denver on my hands ’n knees!”
Again, Larabee never felt
himself hit the floor, never felt or tasted his tears, never felt
anything but the violent tide of relief crashing through him as
he clung to the telephone like a lifeline. “Vin,” he finally uttered
in a choking gasp, causing every other man in that room to sink
into that same relief. “Oh, God, Vin! Jesus, please, tell me again
that you’re all right!”
“I am, Chris, I promise. At
least,” Chris could almost feel the shudder that racked the sharpshooter’s
lean frame, “as all right as anybody can be right now. I saw…
I’s gittin’ some coffee… ’n there was a tv… Lord God in heaven…”
His voice broke and Larabee closed his eyes, his arms aching unbearably
to hold the man who was so far away. “Chris, I wanta come home!”
A sob ripped from him at those
whispered, tearful words and he took no pains to disguise it.
He wasn’t sure just who on the team knew about his and Vin’s relationship
and who didn’t, but he no longer cared. Everything had changed,
everything, when those planes had hit, and that included
his petty concern over who thought what about his feelings for
another man.
Vin was alive. Anything else
he would deal with later.
“And I want you home, pard,”
he answered, leaning back against the bar and crossing his legs,
closing his eyes and envisioning the long-haired, scruffy Texan
who was the other half of his soul. “Want you here so bad it hurts.
When I saw the plane hit, I reached for you… Wish I could reach
all the way to Boston.”
“Y’ can,” Vin said, warmth
easing the ache in his voice. “Y’ are. Don’t ya know that by now?
There ain’t no place so far away that I cain’t feel ya with me.”
Chris smiled slightly at that
and absently pressed a hand to his heart. “I know,” he whispered
roughly, his tears still streaming. “Forgot it for a minute, but
I won’t ever forget again, I promise.”
“See that ya don’t,” Vin growled,
and Larabee could see the fierce scowl that crossed that unshaven
face. “I’d hate fer kickin’ yer ass ta be the first thing I have
ta do when I git back.”
“You just come back in one
piece, Tanner, and you can kick my ass from here to hell.”
“Tell me it’s gonna be all
right, Chris,” Vin pleaded suddenly, sounding as lost and frightened
and alone as Larabee had ever heard him. “Jist tell me ever’thing’s
gonna be all right ’n I’ll believe ya. I’ll believe anything ya
tell me.”
He had no idea where or how,
but Chris found the words and, to his surprise, found that he
believed them. “It’s gonna be all right, Vin,” he said calmly.
“We’re gonna be all right. I promise, pard, we’ll get through
this like we’ve done every other damn thing – together.”
“Ain’t together now,” Vin
reminded him in a plaintive voice.
Chris lifted his head and
opened his eyes. “Are you alive?”
“Yeah.”
“Am I alive?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then,” he smiled, “we’re
together.”
“I love you, Chris.” New strength
filled Vin’s voice and stilled its shaking. “Ain’t said it in
a while. Too long, I reckon. I know the world ain’t endin’, mebbe
jist changin’ directions, but, still, I want ya ta know that I
love ya ’n that yer the finest damn thing I’ve ever had in my
life.”
Chris knew full well that
five pairs of eyes were watching him and that five pairs of ears
were listening. And yesterday that would have mattered.
But yesterday was a lifetime
ago and a whole different world. Right now, in this lifetime
and in this world, the only thing that mattered was on
the other end of the phone. Vin was alive and Chris’s whole soul
rose sharply in rejoicing.
“And I love you,” he said
plainly, needing Vin to hear and understand the words and little
caring who else did in the process. “You come home to me, you
hear? I don’t care how you do it. You just get back here where
you belong so I can see for myself that you’re all right. I need
you, and I won’t rest until I’ve got you back.”
“Well, hell,” Vin drawled,
his voice warm and husky with the love Chris knew so well, “I
reckon that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
“That better be the only
offer you’ve had all day!”
“The only one that matters,
cowboy,” Vin breathed.
Chris knew a silly, almost
drunken smile was spreading across his face, but he wouldn’t have
stopped it if he could. Maybe the world had changed. Certainly
much in it had. But one thing at least – no, not “least” at all
– remained blessedly the same.
He still had Vin.
He finished his coffee, thought
briefly about going inside for more, but decided it could wait.
There was still so much he had to sort through, to arrange into
some semblance of sense, and he was afraid that if he put it off
for even a moment, he might lose this chance for good.
One of the lessons learned from
9-11.
But, Jesus, had there ever been
a steeper learning curve?
Certainly the cost of the lessons
had been brutal. Some 3,000 dead, a city’s skyline forever altered,
the Pentagon – the very nerve center of the country’s military
might – ripped open, a nation’s confidence shaken, its vulnerabilities
laid bare. A war that would go on until God knew when. And who
would ever have guessed that postal workers would be on the front
lines?
New threats and new warnings
had become almost a daily occurrence. Anthrax, dirty nukes, suicide
bombers. Airline pilots wanted guns, and passengers were encouraged
to use any means necessary to take down potential hijackers.
In case of emergency, your
seat cushion can be used as a flotation device, or as a weapon.
So much had changed.
Now the White House, Congress,
the FBI and the CIA were all pointing fingers at each other.
And so much remained the same.
He sighed and ran a hand through
his hair, knowing that held true in his own life as well. So much
had changed. Certainly the biggest change was that he and Vin
no longer had to wrestle with hiding the true nature of their
relationship from their teammates. Their friends. Clearly two
of them had already guessed, or at least suspected, the truth
– Josiah and Ezra had looked singularly unsurprised by his revelations
that morning – but just as clearly the other three had been caught
completely unaware. And each of those three had taken it in a
different but completely characteristic manner.
Nathan had been guardedly accepting,
though not wholly approving. No surprise there; he didn’t exactly
approve of Buck’s lifestyle, either. And he’d seized immediately
upon health concerns, taking the first chance he got to talk seriously
with them both about the risk of injuries, STDs, AIDS. And they’d
listened with far more patience than anyone would ever have expected
from them because they’d understood that his words had been born
of friendship rather than prejudice.
JD had been shocked beyond speech
at first, a rarity for him. Once he’d had time to think, though,
and had gotten past the point of gawking and sputtering, he’d
accepted it with an ease that startled them all, revealing yet
again the maturity that could surface at the damnedest times.
Then, like the detectives he so loved to read about, he sorted
carefully through every shred of evidence he’d overlooked before,
retraced every clue he’d previously ignored, and decided he was
an idiot for not having seen it for himself.
And Vin, no slouch at picking
up a trail or covering his own, had gotten a sly enjoyment from
their young genius’s frustration.
Buck, though… Chris winced and
shook his head at the memory. Buck had struggled the hardest and
longest with the radical change in his oldest friend’s life, partly
out of hurt at not being told right away, and partly out of the
love he still bore for Sarah. Chris had expected that, and had
given the man the time, space and patience he’d needed to make
peace with it. Buck had come perilously close to resenting Vin
for exerting what he considered an unhealthy and unnatural influence
on Larabee, and it had been hard on Vin to think that he’d caused
a rift in such a deep and precious friendship.
In the end, though, it had been
that friendship, and Buck’s own inability to turn his back on
his friends, that had brought him around. When he’d finally allowed
himself to see that Chris was truly happy and that it was Vin
who made him so, then he’d finally allowed himself to accept their
relationship. If he still had doubts or resentments, no one saw
any trace of them. He was as physically expressive with Vin and
Chris as he was with anyone else, was back to trapping them in
his famous hugs, and could tease Chris about not letting the younger
man wear him down.
Finally letting their friends
in on their love had lifted a huge burden from the two men’s shoulders.
Of all the changes wrought by September 11th, that surely had
been the best one.
But so much else remained the
same. While the military went after terrorists that threatened
the country from without, Team 7 went after the criminals that
threatened it from within. They attended pointless meetings, filed
endless paperwork, spent countless hours on surveillance that
led nowhere, and, now and then, shed their blood in taking down
one vicious bastard or another.
Boredom, migraines, indigestion,
frustration, adrenaline rushes and hospital bedside vigils – all
just parts of the job. And sometimes, when one of the bastards
got loose on a technicality or he leaned over the too still and
too pale form of one of his men, he wondered if it was really
worth it.
How could a job that never really
got done be worth the blood of those he loved? And what if next
time it was more than blood that was lost? What if it was a life?
And what if that life was Vin’s?
What if the next funeral he attended, the next flag-draped coffin
he saw, the next refrain of Taps he heard, the next 21-gun salute
that thundered in his ears, were all for the man he loved?
How was he supposed to determine
which gain was worth what loss?
He leaned forward and rubbed
his hands over his eyes, suddenly deciding he needed more coffee
now. Before he could get up, however, the door from the den opened
and a soft footfall whispered against the planks of the porch.
A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye and he turned
and raised his head, giving a slight smile as Vin approached with
a thermal coffee carafe in one hand.
“You bring a straw, or are you
just gonna guzzle straight from the pot?” he teased.
Tanner crossed behind Larabee’s
back to the chair at his left and sank into it, setting the carafe
on the small table between them. “Was thinkin’ I’d jist start
mainlinin’ it,” he answered, his thick drawl and bleary-eyed face
giving evidence that he had just awakened and hadn’t showered
yet. “Then I ’membered how much I hate needles.” He reached over
and set the large mug he’d carried in his left hand on the table
next to the pot. “So I brung that instead.” He slumped back in
his chair and closed his eyes. “Try not ta burn yerself pourin’
me a cup.”
Chris arched a blond brow at
him. “Cranky in the mornin’, aren’t ya?”
Vin yawned widely. “Jist hate
wakin’ up all alone in a big ol’ cold bed. I’s all set ta wrap
m’self around ya, ’n got cozy with yer pilla instead.” He forced
open one eye and turned it on Larabee. “’S a helluva disappointment.”
“Really?” Chris frowned. “I thought
you liked those pillows.”
“Shut up ’n pour the coffee ’fore
I have ta hurt ya.”
Chris snorted. “You’re not nearly
awake enough to take me on, Tanner.” Nonetheless, he reached over,
lifted the pot and poured coffee into the mug. “You want me to
go fetch the sugar and stir it for you, too?”
Vin shot him a weak smirk. “Sugar’s
already in there. Managed fine on my own, thanks.”
Chris held the carafe suspended
over his own empty cup, but didn’t pour a drop. “Sugar’s in where?”
he asked suspiciously, knowing just how much of the stuff it took
to get Tanner jump-started in the morning.
“My cup,” Vin said tersely. “Don’t
panic, I ain’t about ta lace yer pot. Though God knows you could
use the sweetenin’.”
“I’ll remember that when all
your teeth fall out and you weigh two hundred pounds,” Chris retorted,
filling his cup and setting the pot on the table.
“I knew ya only love me fer m’
looks.”
“Yeah, well, you only love me
for my horses, so I guess we’re even.”
“Reckon so,” Vin allowed, reaching
for his mug. He cradled it in both hands, raised it to his lips
and sipped from the strong, hot brew as if it were the very source
of life.
For Chris, however, the source
of life was not in his cup, but slumped in the chair across from
him. He watched Vin intently, taking in the fall and curl of unruly
earth-brown hair with its glints of red and honey-gold, studying
the subtle curve of brown brows, the angular jut of high, hard
cheekbones, the proud line of that long, straight nose and the
chiseled beauty of that incredibly square jaw. He watched raptly
the feathered strokes of those long lashes as Vin closed his eyes
to drink, followed the sweep of a pink tip of tongue across full
lips after each swallow, noted the length and strength of the
slender fingers curling around the large stoneware mug.
From those hands, his gaze traveled
slowly over the lean body clad in a Dallas Cowboys muscle shirt
and dark blue sweatpants, and he smiled slightly at the sight.
Gone from Vin was every trace of tension, of wary vigilance, replaced
by the complete and perfect relaxation he so rarely displayed.
The wide, sinewy shoulders were loose, his spine was curved into
a comfortable, nearly boneless slouch, and long, slim legs were
stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. Each time
he raised his cup to drink, Chris watched the supple ripple and
flex of muscles beneath smooth, tanned skin, reminded of the lithe
and latent power of a cat lazing in the sun. An air of calm, of
peace, surrounded the man like a tranquil pool, and Larabee wanted
nothing more than to dive into those deep, still waters and rest
submerged in them forever.
God, how had he lived without
this for so long? And what would he do if ever he were forced
to live without it again?
“Ain’t gotta stare like that,
y’know,” Vin said quietly, never turning to face his lover. “I
ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
The words drew a startled gasp
from Chris and he sat up straight, snatching his gaze away guiltily.
“I wasn’t–”
“Yeah, ya were,” Vin contradicted
easily. He did turn then and set his cup on the table, fixing
deep and knowing blue eyes on his lover. “Been doin’ it all weekend
now, never lettin’ me outta yer sight fer more’n a few minutes,
like yer scared I’m gonna disappear.” He cocked his head slightly
to one side, frowning at the sudden tight clench of Larabee’s
jaw. “There somethin’ ya need ta talk about?”
Chris turned his face away, staring
out toward the barn and trying to think of some words of denial.
But even had they come, he knew, Vin would never believe them.
The damned sharp-eyed Texan could see straight through him as
if he were made of glass.
“When I said I ain’t goin’ anywhere,”
Vin persisted, undaunted by Larabee’s silence, “I meant it. That
includes right now. So ya might’s well tell me what’s stirrin’
around inside that head ’a yers, ’cause ain’t neither one of us
leavin’ this porch until ya do.”
Chris jerked his gaze back to
Tanner and scowled. “That a threat?” he growled.
Vin smiled slightly. “Hell, Chris,
ya know me. I don’t make threats.” Blue eyes glinted with something
between teasing and resolve. “I give warnin’s. If yer lucky. Now,”
he sat back in his chair, folded his hands across his flat stomach
and arched a brow at his lover, “ya wanta try this again?”
Chris tried to meet that stare,
tried to subdue it, but couldn’t. Vin Tanner was stubborn. Vin
Tanner with right on his side was absolutely immovable. He sighed
in defeat and bowed his head, closing his eyes and rubbing them
with a thumb and forefinger.
“It’s the day,” he breathed.
Vin nodded slowly. “Figgered
as much,” he said softly. He let his gaze drift away from Larabee.
“Been thinkin’ on it some m’self.”
Chris’s head snapped up and his
eyes shot open, slashing across to Vin. “You?” he asked in sharp
surprise.
Again, Vin arched a brow and
returned his mild blue gaze to the older man’s face. “Yeah, me,”
he answered evenly. “I think too, y’know.”
Chris had to chuckle at that.
He knew Tanner thought, and a good deal more than most people
gave him credit for doing. That mop of hair, lopsided grin and
lazy drawl concealed a mind that was lightning-fast, razor-sharp
and sometimes frighteningly inventive. The Texan was also about
the most perceptive damn man on the face of the earth, with instincts
and an intuition that were sometimes downright spooky.
“All right,” he said at last,
still grinning, “tell me what you’ve been thinkin’.”
Vin shrugged lightly. “Same things
I usually think about,” he rasped, watching Larabee intently and
noting the subtle play of sunshine and shadow over the strong
face of the man who was himself an amalgam of light and dark.
“You, me, what we got between us, ’n what we got with the team.”
He continued to gaze raptly at Chris, even now marveling that
such a man could truly be his. “I swear ta God, Chris,” he breathed,
everything he felt for Larabee rising through him in a hard, hot
wave, “in all my life, I ain’t ever had anything near as fine
as you. And I ain’t ever taken you or one minute between us fer
granted. I cain’t, ’cause I know all too well that there jist
ain’t a whole lotta men like you out there. And, b’lieve me, I
seen enough ’a the kind that ain’t like you ta know.”
Chris winced at that, hating
the thought of all the hurt Vin had known in his life, and much
of it at the hands of men who’d claimed to love him. He wondered
if any of those bastards had understood what a rare and precious
gift they were so callously abusing and how they’d lived with
themselves afterward.
“’N Lord knows I ain’t ever had
nothin’ like what I’ve got with the boys,” Vin went on in that
soft, raspy voice. “I don’t mean the job, though that’s part of
it, but them. I’s on my own fer a long time, ’n figgered
it’d always be that way.” He dropped his gaze to the table and
shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t have nobody tyin’ me down, but
didn’t have nobody watchin’ my back, either. Didn’t have nobody
who cared if I lived or died. When ya’ve gone as long as I did
without havin’ that, then once ya get it, y’ don’t ever stop givin’
thanks. ’Specially,” he lifted his gaze again and locked it on
Larabee’s, “when ya know ya could lose it again at any minute.”
Chris’s eyes widened and he sucked
in a sharp breath as Vin’s soft words struck home. Damn sharpshooter
had hit the target again.
Vin nodded at his lover’s reaction.
“I reckoned that was it. You’ve had shadows in yer eyes fer three
days now, ’n you been lookin’ at me like I’m another one ’a them
ghosts that haunt ya.” He straightened in his chair and leaned
across the table, taking one of Larabee’s hands in his and holding
tightly to it. “But I ain’t dead, Chris. I’m alive ’n I’m right
here ’n I ain’t ever gonna leave ya.”
“You can’t say that,” Chris protested
hoarsely, his eyes filling as too familiar pain lanced through
him. “Christ, look at what we do for a livin’! I’ve already come
so damn close to losin’ you so many times…” His voice broke and
the tears spilled down his cheeks. “One day a bullet’s gonna find
its mark,” he whispered raggedly, clutching fiercely at Tanner’s
hand. “And then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Vin ignored the death-grip on
his hand, ignored the pain shooting through his fingers, and concentrated
solely on the pain in his lover’s eyes. “Yer s’posed ta do the
same thing I am if it’s you that falls,” he said in a low but
steady voice. “Hurt like hell, grieve fer all that’s gone, then
get up and live yer life so’s ever’body’ll know I didn’t die in
vain. And remember until the day you die that I loved you
with ever’thing that was in me.”
Chris bowed his head and pressed
Vin’s hand to his wet cheek. “I just don’t know,” he whispered,
“if I have another goodbye left in me.”
“Well then,” Vin sighed, pulling
his hand free and sitting back, “I reckon you shouldn’ta took
up with me, ’cause I ain’t gonna live forever.”
Chris raised his head and stared
at Vin in stark terror, his naked soul in his eyes. “You’re younger
than me!” he said desperately. “You’ll outlive me–”
“I live in Purgatorio, cowboy,”
Vin said calmly. “I take down scum on the job and face it again
when I git home. I drive a motorcycle. Hell, I drive, period.
I ride a horse that ain’t but half-broke on his good days, I go
campin’ in places that ain’t on no maps… You want me ta list fer
you all the possible ways I could die? Look at me, Chris,” he
demanded when Larabee again turned away. “Damn it, Chris, look
at me!” When Chris did, he reached out and again took the man’s
hand, holding it in a vise-like grip of his own. Blue eyes bored
into green as Tanner poured every ounce of his formidable will
through their linked gazes. “Ain’t no guarantees in this life,
cowboy,” he said firmly, refusing to let Larabee look away. “If
ya don’t believe me, ask all them folks who was made widows and
orphans on 9-11. Ask the folks in Oklahoma City. Hell, ask the
parents of all them kids that was killed at Columbine! Life jist
don’t come with guarantees, Chris! I wish ta God I could give
ya one, but I ain’t ever lied ta you yet, ’n I ain’t about ta
start now. Not even when I know ya want me to.”
“So what do we do?” Chris breathed,
his fear like a thing alive within him.
Vin smiled gently. “What we’re
doin’ right now, cowboy. Takin’ ever’ chance we can jist ta be
together ’n holdin on ta each other fer all we’re worth. Lovin’
each other ’n livin’ the lives we got. ’Cause they’re the only
ones we got, and they sure as hell beat any alternative I’ve ever
seen.”
Chris stared down at the hand
gripping his and let himself feel the strength and warmth, the
life, in it. “I remember when Sarah and Adam died,” he murmured,
idly running his free thumb over Vin’s knuckles. “When I buried
them, I buried me. Or told myself I did. Told myself I’d never
love anyone again, that it just wasn’t worth it. That life would
be easier, less painful, without it.”
“Was it?” Vin asked softly, watching
intently the play of emotions across the face he knew better than
his own.
Chris shrugged. “I told myself
it was.” He looked at Vin, and a small, wry smile tugged at one
corner of his mouth. “Turns out I was lyin’ to myself. I used
to be real good at that. Told myself I had everything I
needed with the job and the ranch and that I didn’t need any more
complications. Told myself that was the way it had to be.”
“What happened?”
Chris laughed softly. “Then one
day when I was livin’ my dull, uncomplicated life, into it moseys
this long-haired, scrawny-assed Texan with an insolent smile,
a smart mouth and the goddamnedest drawl I’ve ever heard. And
all of a sudden I’ve got more complications in my life than I
know what to do with. See,” he frowned thoughtfully, still contemplating
Tanner’s hand as if it were an infinite mystery, “everybody else
I’ve ever met is scared to death of pissin’ me off. Not this cocky
sonuvabitch, though. He delights in it, goes out of his way to
do it, and doesn’t seem to understand that one day I’m gonna shoot
his ass for doin’ it.”
“Mebbe he does understand,” Vin
said with a sly grin. “Mebbe he jist don’t care.” He winked. “Mebbe
he does it ’cause he thinks yer awful damn purty when yer spittin’
nails.”
Chris lifted his gaze from Vin’s
hand to his face and arched a blond brow. “One of these days,”
he warned, “one ’a them nails is gonna hit you.”
Tanner’s grin widened and turned
wolfish, and an unholy light gleamed in his eyes. “Cain’t say
gittin’ nailed by you is a bad thought at all,” he drawled.
Chris laughed aloud and shook
his head, thrusting Tanner’s hand away. “How do you always do
this to me?” he asked in happy wonder. “How is it that when all
I can see is darkness, gloom and doom, you come along and make
the sun rise all over again? How do you do that? Why do
you do that?”
Vin rose to his feet and walked
around the table to him, lowering himself onto Larabee’s lap and
circling long arms about his neck. “I do it ’cause I love ya,”
he said softly, seriously, blue eyes dark and eternities deep.
“I do it ’cause I cain’t stand ta see ya lost in the dark, cain’t
stand ta see ya hurtin’.” He lifted one hand and ran his fingers
slowly through Chris’s golden hair. “Lord, Chris, don’t you know
that I’d take away ever’ bit of hurt in yer life if I could?”
“You can,” Chris whispered, twining
his arms about the Texan’s lean body. “You do. More than
you’ll ever know.”
“We’re both gonna die one day,
cowboy,” Vin said. “Ain’t no way around that. And unless we go
out in a blaze ’a glory together, one of us is gonna git left
behind. So mebbe we should jist concentrate on givin’ each other
love enough and mem’ries enough ta git us through until we’re
back together.”
“You really believe that, don’t
you?” Chris asked, seeing the certainty in his lover’s eyes. “That
we will get back together, I mean.”
“I don’t jist believe it, I know
it.” He smiled and winked. “Made my way back to ya from Boston,
didn’t I? Took me four days, sharin’ three rental cars, hitchin’
a ride on a semi ’n walkin’ them last few miles, but I did it.
I’ll always do it. Long as I know yer waitin’, ain’t nothin’
gonna keep me from ya. Not even death.”
Chris exhaled hard and pulled
Vin to him in a fierce embrace, clutching tightly at the younger
man and burying his face in Tanner’s long hair, wetting it with
his tears. “Let’s go inside,” he whispered tightly against the
sharpshooter’s warm neck. “I need ya with me now.”
Vin nodded and pulled away just
enough to smile at Chris through his own tears. He lifted a hand
to Larabee’s cheek and stroked it tenderly, loving the man with
his eyes and his touch. “Lord, cowboy,” he breathed, “I thought
ya’d never ask.” He slid off Chris’s lap and rose to his feet,
holding Larabee’s hand and pulling him up as well. “C’mon,” he
said with a slow, sweet smile, “let’s see if we cain’t make the
sun rise all over again.”
Holding tightly to Vin’s hand,
Chris followed him into the house, refusing any longer to think
of death while he still had a life with this man.
He was in the kitchen, washing
the few dishes from his meager supper, when he noticed the message
on the alarm system panel. The security light in the front yard,
activated by motion, had been tripped.
Immediately on alert, he went
to the cupboard, opened it and took down the pistol he kept on
the top shelf. Checking to make sure it was loaded, he walked
back through the dining room and into the rarely used living room.
Going at once to the wide front window, he parted the blinds just
enough to peer through them into the light-flooded yard. At first
he saw nothing and instinctively tightened his grip on the pistol.
Moments later, though, a figure emerged from the shadows of a
tree, alone, on foot, trudging slowly but determinedly up the
gravel drive. A large duffel bag was slung over one shoulder,
a garment bag over the other, and a distinctive, expensive rifle
case hung heavily from one hand. Long hair and jacket fringe fluttered
on the cool night breeze.
Chris gasped hard, his heart
hurling itself into his throat, and, before his mind could register
what he was doing, he dropped the pistol onto a lamp table and
raced to the front door, fighting the deadbolts with shaking hands
and finally wrenching it open. Then he was through the storm door,
over the porch and running across the yard. Tears streamed down
his face, but, like all the others he’d shed over the past few
days, he never felt them.
Couldn’t feel anything except
near-delirious joy at seeing that beloved figure before him once
more. Four days. Four days he’d existed on a knife’s edge of worry,
fear, pain and loneliness, four days he’d tried desperately to
hang on as the foundations of his world were rocked violently
and damn near shattered. Four days he’d spent in a world where
the sun refused to shine.
But now here, in the dark
of night, he finally felt that light breaking over his soul.
Vin…
He never heard his own cry,
but Tanner did. Exhausted to the very marrow of his bones, hungry
and plagued by brutally aching feet and back, he lifted his bowed
head at the sound of that voice, saw the man racing toward him,
and forgot every bit of his misery. Dropping the bags that weighed
him down, he loosed a cry of his own and launched himself forward,
all but blinded by tears but never needing eyes to see the man
who was all he’d ever known of home.
They came together in the
brightest heart of the light, Vin throwing himself into Chris’s
arms, Chris catching him and holding him as if both their lives
depended on it. Mouths met in hungry, desperate, tear-salted kisses
and two hearts pounded as one in a single, frantic rhythm. Hands
explored, caressed, clutched fiercely and, between deep kisses,
two breathless, broken voices uttered words of love.
A full fifteen minutes or
more they spent like that, never parting further than the space
it took to breathe, neither ever releasing his hold on the other,
two strong men clinging together and weeping unashamedly in sorrow
for all that had been lost and in joy at what had finally been
restored. Only when each was fully assured of the other’s health
and wholeness did they ease apart and turn their thoughts and
energies to the practical matter of getting themselves inside.
Yet even so, as they retrieved
Vin’s bags and walked back to the house, they were hip-and-hip,
the arm of one circled around the waist of the other, Vin’s head
bent to Chris’s shoulder, Chris’s cheek against Vin’s hair. It
was like that for the rest of the night as, finally reunited and
still reeling from the magnitude of what had happened, they found
it almost impossible to bear even the briefest separation. From
the late supper Vin ate on the sofa in the den with his legs draped
across Chris’s lap to the hot shower they took together, and then
through a long night of alternately tender and intense lovemaking,
they took every opportunity they could to give physical expression
to their love.
As the first light of dawn
crept slowly over the bed, Chris felt Vin’s warmth and weight
pressed up against him and let the last bit of fear drain from
his soul. He smiled and pulled his sleeping lover closer still,
then surrendered to his own exhaustion, finally allowing himself
to believe that somehow, someday, everything might just be all
right again.
He drifted off to sleep at
last, content with the knowledge that Vin was home and the sun
was rising again.
The End
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