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Paradise Lost |
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"I don't want you and the...others making a fuss, is that clear, Buck?" The slight hesitation before he'd said others was barely noticeable. At least, Chris hoped so. He didn't want any man's pity, particularly not Buck Wilmington's. Or Nathan Jackson's. Or JD Dunne's. Or any of the rest of Team 7, either. He'd rather have them think he was a mean, ornery son of a bitch. Which was nothing less than the truth, anyway.A few more terse orders to Buck, and Chris was able to hang up the phone with a barely concealed sigh of relief. Ignoring the beads of sweat dripping slowly down his face, he waved away the nurse who had popped her head in to check on him. Chris didn't want her to get too close. Just the simple effort of calling work to inform them he was being released from the hospital tomorrow had been more of a drain on him than he wanted anyone to know. There was no way in hell he was staying here another day though, so he wasn't about to give the doctors or nurses any excuse to try and keep him.
At least I know Vin don't pity me. He's too busy feeling guilty. There was a grim sort of comfort in the thought. The sharpshooter had been to visit Chris a grand total of two times in the past six weeks since his own release. He'd come by himself and sat down in a chair near the bed, trying to pretend he wanted to be there. And then he'd talked about football. The Broncos. That had been like rubbing salt in an open wound. His team was the Packers. Vin's had been the Cowboys. Something that had afforded both of them a great deal of amusement. So Chris had responded by shutting down. If he didn't care, then it didn't hurt. It was either that or pound someone or something into a bloody pulp and his body wasn't quite up to that just yet.
Only one more week and then he could go back to work. Chris both yearned for and dreaded that day. What would he do if he lost that? In his weaker moments, he wasn't always certain he'd be able to do it. Could he really work with Vin and the others with things as they were? Yes. He had to. His job was the only thing he had left. It had always been one of the driving forces in his life. Sarah had used to tease him, saying he was a bigamist. Married to Law and Order first and her second. But she'd always smiled and kissed him when she said it. And he had never needed to explain his dedication to Vin. The sharpshooter had understood without words, just like he always did. Like he always used to do, Larabee. The thought was bitter. The pretense of not caring only stretched so far it seemed.
There had been only one matter of any importance that he and Vin had never been able to agree on. Chris hadn't wanted to hide their relationship. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought. If something was right then you stood your ground, consequences be damned. And he and Vin had been so right together. Or so he'd thought, anyway. But the sharpshooter had adamantly refused to consider telling even the rest of the team. Vin hadn't thought they'd be able to accept the idea of him and Chris together. Maybe not. But Chris thought they deserved the chance to decide that for themselves.
Chris was under no illusion that things would have been the same once he and Vin had told the others, but the seven of them might have been able to work it out amongst themselves. But now the whole thing was only so much water under the bridge. There was no he and Vin, no them, to tell anyone about. Hell, Vin still hadn't remembered him and it had been almost two months since the accident. It was plain as the nose on his face that Vin was happier this way. Or he would be, once he got over the guilt. Well, that was just fine by Chris Larabee. No one had ever died of a broken heart and he didn't aim to be the first. Even if, in the dark of the night, it hurt so bad that death would have been a blessed release. But Chris Larabee was cursed with far too much pride to allow himself such an easy out. He'd survived losing Sarah and Adam, he would survive losing Vin. But he would never ever lose anyone else. There was never going to be anyone else. No one that really mattered, anyway.
Scrubbing tiredly at his face with the palm of one hand, Chris shifted his weight on the bed, trying to ease the pain in his legs and back. He supposed he should be grateful he felt anything at all. There had been a time when he had thought he might never feel anything below his waist again. He didn't know if he would have been strong enough to survive that. His spirit might have broken under the weight. He was just damn glad he wouldn't have to find out. Chris had never been a praying man, but after he'd taken his first weak, trembling step since the accident, he'd gone back to his room and cried like a baby. Then he'd haltingly said a prayer of thanks. One that he dimly remembered from childhood. Then he'd begun working himself to the limits his doctors would allow and often beyond. That left him too tired and in too much physical pain to feel anything else. Except for those times when he woke in the middle of the night, reaching out for someone who was no longer there. That was a pain sharp as any knife. A sadistic part of him hoped the same thing happened to Vin. Only the sharpshooter wouldn't know who it was he was reaching for. Goddamn him, anyway.
Sometimes, Chris wondered what would happen if Vin regained his memory. Would the sharpshooter still want him? Love was out of the question. It hadn't been enough for Vin before and Chris doubted that had changed. Some things never did. But wanting was another matter entirely. A whole different ball game. No pun intended. Chris was pretty good at pushing away unwanted emotions, but he still couldn't quite control his body's involuntary reaction to the sight of Vin in a pair of well worn jeans, or to the memory of the sharpshooter's voice, husky with desire. That this was but a symptom of the disease, was something Chris preferred not to think about. He wanted to believe that Vin had been reduced to just a simple case of want, rather than need. Maybe if he believed hard enough, he could make it true. And yes, Virginia. There really is a Santa Claus.
Whatever the case, he was tired of thinking about it. Picking up the book Ezra had given him, he looked at the cover. Liar's Poker. Sounded like it could be interesting.
He glanced at the clock on the wall before opening the book to page one. Less than twenty four hours before Buck arrived to take him home. Without Vin though, home was just another four letter word to Chris Larabee nowadays.
+ + + + + + +
"Mr. Larabee, here are the instructions you are to follow. I have written my home phone number at the top. If there is ever anything I can do..." The doctor trailed off, knowing what Chris's response would be. A polite, if somewhat curt, nod and a blank, opaque green screen where his eyes should be. Chris Larabee was the worst patient he'd ever seen.
"Thank you." There was the nod. "I'll be just fine." There was the cool, impassive gaze. Check and checkmate. But there was one more card up his sleeve.
"I'll see you in one week. I have to sign the final authorization forms for your return to work then." Trump card played. Let's see you wiggle out of this one, Mr. Larabee.
"He'll be here, with bells on. Won't you, Chris?" Buck was immune to Chris Larabee's glares after all these years.
"Yes." Chris grated out.
"And he'll be more than happy to follow your instructions to the letter, I'm sure of it. Our Brother Chris is a mite hardheaded, but he isn't foolish." Josiah said blandly. He didn't even appear to notice the black look his boss was giving him.
"No. I'm not the one that's foolish." Chris snapped, his tone making it perfectly plain whom he thought the true fools were.
"Well then, pard. Now that we got that settled, why don't we let this pretty little gal wheel you out and we'll have you all tucked into the car before you can say Jack Robinson." Buck was much too cheerful in Chris's opinion. He'd definitely have to do something about that. Especially if Buck was going to be staying with him for a while. They thought he didn't know. Hah! They were as transparent as glass, all of them. Chris knew they'd be taking turns staying with him for a while. He also knew it was one of the only reasons the doctors hadn't been more difficult about releasing him.
"So which one of you is the lucky fellow who gets to babysit me first?" Chris asked aloud as the nurse began wheeling him down the hall.
"That would be me." Buck replied cheerfully, after a quick rueful glance in Josiah's direction.
"How long is this babysitting gig going to last?" Chris said dryly.
"Til all of us have had a turn. Wouldn't want anyone feeling left out." Josiah turned his head and glanced back to flash him a quick smile.
"All of you?" The words were out before Chris could stop them.
"Yeah, pard. All of us. Is there a problem with... do you not want Vin...I reckon he would understand." Buck floundered around before falling silent, looking at Josiah pleadingly.
"Whatever is comfortable for you, Chris. Just let us know." Josiah said quietly.
"No. It's fine. If Vin wants to, he can. I...It's ok." It was Chris's turn to flounder for words. He hadn't expected Vin to volunteer for the duty. Or maybe he'd felt pressured into doing it? Or maybe it was his goddamn guilt complex. Well, at least he'd have the satisfaction of knowing that Vin would be as miserable as he would the whole time. Even if it was for entirely different reasons.
Chris knew the anger he felt towards the sharpshooter was a dangerous thing. After Sarah had died, he'd taken all kinds of crazy risks, angry at the world and wanting to hurt it like he'd been hurt. He recognized the same feelings in him now. Vin had pulled him out of the last of it then. Who would do that for him now? Especially since Vin seems to be as angry with the world as I am. The two of us should just go beat on each other in private somewhere. Hell, maybe a knock on the head is just what he needs to help him remember.
Chris shook his head slightly as the nurse brought the wheelchair to a stop. Gritting his teeth, he leaned heavily on the cane Josiah held out to him as he struggled to his feet, with Buck's help. Vin remembering wouldn't really change things. Not anymore. It might even make it worse in some ways. He knew the others didn't really understand his reaction, or Vin's either, to this whole thing. Unless they knew the whole truth, they never would either. Since that wasn't going to happen, they were all just going to have to deal with matters as they stood. End of story.
Staring out the window of Josiah's Suburban, Chris Larabee watched the familiar scenery flash by. He was finally going home. Too bad it didn't feel that way.
SEVEN
Today was the day. He felt sick just thinking about it. Maybe he ought to go...to go...uh...maybe he should see about doing...doing... awwww hell. He just didn't want to be here when Buck arrived with Chris Larabee. He'd spent the past week dreading it. Then finally, he'd managed to convince himself that it wouldn't be so bad and that once it happened he could quit worryin' about it. But that was yesterday when it was still 24 hours away. Not five minutes away, like it was now."Here, Vin. You look like you could use this." Josiah spoke quietly, handing him a steaming cup of coffee.
"I reckon. Thanks, Josiah." Vin took a grateful sip of the hot, sweet brew. He'd hoped his feelings weren't quite so apparent. This uncomfortable situation was tough on all of them, not just him and ...Chris. And one day, maybe he'd be able to think of that name and not stumble over it like some drunken sailor . Or feel the perpetual surge of guilt and resentment that accompanied it. And maybe pigs would fly. That possibility seemed more likely at this moment in time.
"You're very welcome, Vin." Josiah took a sip of his own coffee and gave Vin's shoulder a brief squeeze before moving on towards Nathan's desk. Vin watched as the two men began discussing something, pointing every so often to the map that was spread all across the surface of the desk. The sharpshooter glanced up at the clock. They should be arriving any minute now. His stomach clenched in anxiety and he took another sip of the coffee, hoping it would help some. It didn't. He fidgeted nervously with the stuffed wolf sitting on the edge of his desk. A souvenir from his trip to the Denver zoo with Buck and JD back when Buck had been dating the gal who fed the lions there.
But much as Vin liked the wolf, identified with it, he didn't want to be playing with stuffed animals when Buck arrived with Chris. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he didn't want Chris Larabee to know how nervous he was. He stared at his bare desk. Where the hell was the damn paperwork when you needed it?
"Mr. Tanner. If you have a few moments, I'd like to discuss the Ryan case with you." Vin knew Ezra didn't really need any input from him. That case was as cut and dried as they came. But he wasn't too proud to take the occasional hand when it was offered.
"Sure, Ez. Be glad to help." Vin was pleased that only a tiny little bit of the desperate gratitude he felt could be heard in his voice.
The southern agent pulled his chair a bit closer and after a short time, Vin quit glancing towards the doorway every few seconds. In fact, he'd managed not to think about Chris's arrival for five whole minutes, when JD's excited shout interrupted the conversation.
"They're here! Sandy from the front desk just called." JD's grin was so wide, it threatened to split his face and he half rose out of his chair. The young man's belief in their leader's invulnerablity had been severely shaken by the accident and Chris coming back to work was a welcome restoration of his world order.
"Now, don't overdo it, JD. Chris is bound to still tire easy." Nathan tried to quell a bit of the younger agent's enthusiasm, knowing this would be enough of an ordeal for their somber leader.
"I know that, Nathan. Geez, I wasn't planning on challenging him to a race or anything." JD said, with an air of wounded dignity. He did sit back down in his chair, however.
Vin sat numbly in his own chair, wondering how the hell he could work for a boss he didn't remember. One who'd been his friend in another life. Things like this just didn't happen outside of books and TV movies. Or they shouldn't, anyway. Real people weren't equipped to deal with this shit.
The elevator doors opened and Vin continued to watch, frozen in place, as Buck and Chris stepped off. He hadn't seen Chris Larabee for a couple of weeks. Not since his second, and last, visit to the hospital. Damn. Even after nearly two months in the hospital and a week at home, Chris was still using a cane and limping slightly. Vin hated the sight. It was his fault the other man couldn't walk without the damn thing. His fault that the black jeans hung so loosely on the narrow hips. Except for a faint scar on his forhead and a slight residual soreness in his arm, Vin wasn't hurt at all anymore. Unless losing your mind, or part of it, counted as hurt.
"Don't you boys have paperwork or something to do? It seems Josiah hasn't been keeping you busy. I can change that easy enough." Chris Larabee smiled as he walked into the room, taking any sting out of the words.
"He's back, fellas." Buck announced, eyes twinkling.
"Yep. Guess that means I'll have to move back out here with the rest of you commoners." Josiah sighed.
"It'll do you good. Ain't pride one of the seven deadly sins?" Nathan nudged Josiah, grinning.
"I'm just glad he's back." JD was too happy to joke around. And less inhibited than the older men about expressing his feelings.
"And I, as well." Ezra agreed. "Mr. Sanchez can really be quite puritan in his views at times. I never thought I'd say this, but Mr. Larabee is rather reasonable in comparison."
"He wouldn't sign off on your expense reports." Chris said, quirking his lips slightly.
"Alas, no." The words may have been mocking, but the welcome in the green eyes was sincere.
"Welcome back." The words came out stiff and awkward and Vin wished he'd kept his mouth shut when Chris turned his gaze towards the sharpshooter. Vin hadn't even been able to say the man's name, for chrissake. And now here he was, looking at Vin and no doubt knowing exactly what Vin was thinking. Knowing that Vin wished him gone. Nice welcome. Yeah.
"Thank you, Vin. It's good to be back." There was nothing in the voice to indicate Chris felt the least bit uncomfortable, but then that was probably why they paid him the big bucks. Vin felt an irrational surge of resentment at the other man's cool, collected manner.
After a few more minutes of conversation with the others, Chris went into his office and shut the door. Despite Josiah's best efforts, he no doubt had a whole slew of work to catch up on. The rest of the team eventually followed suit, filling the office with everyday noise and routine.
Vin stared long and hard at the closed door seperating Chris Larabee from the rest of them and sighed. He already had a headache and it wasn't even nine o'clock. It was gonna be a long day.
+ + + + + + +
Today was the day. Chris felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He wasn't ready. Maybe he should put it off for a few days. What if he stumbled and fell flat on his face? That had happened just the other day. He'd overexerted himself, stubbornly insisting he was just fine, and then he'd taken two steps and collapsed in a heap, right under Buck's nose. Buck hadn't said, I told you so., to Chris's everlasting gratitude, but he'd been thinking it. Who wouldn't have?
And what if he found Vin's constant presence too much to withstand? Chris had thought a lot about him and Vin as he lay in that cold, lonely hospital bed for six long weeks.
And then he'd thought some more laying in his own cold, lonely bed at home the past week. He hadn't liked most of the conclusions he'd come to. But he didn't have to like them, he just had to live with them. And that's what he would do. Even if it killed him.
It wouldn't kill him, of course. It probably wouldn't even hurt that bad, after a while. At least, that was the theory, anyway. If only Vin would quit looking guilty all the time. It just made Chris angry. And it made Vin mad, too. Chris hadn't missed the flashes of resentment in his former lover's eyes.
"Hey pard, you about ready? We're gonna be late." Buck called out jovially, knocking on Chris's bedroom door.
"You're riding with the boss this morning. You can be as late as you want." Chris said dryly, opening the door.
"Shoot, Chris. I usually am, anyway. Even without ya." Buck laughed.
Chris smiled a bit in return, relaxing slightly. He'd probably never admit it, but he'd liked having Buck here this past week, despite the initial pain of seeing someone else in Vin's place. Normally Chris preferred being alone to lick his wounds, but he'd kind of gotten used to having someone else around the house. Vin had wound up spending most nights at Chris's ranch the last few months they were together. And he was tired of licking these particular wounds, anyway. It didn't help.
"Let's go. It's probably not a good idea to leave them unsupervised for long. No telling what they might do." Chris shook his head and grabbed his cane from the corner before following Buck outside to the truck.
Chris listened absently to Buck's chatter as they drove the distance to town. Most of his attention was centered on wondering what he'd say when he got to the office. How should he act? How would they act? Ok, what he really meant was how would Vin act. He knew what the others would do. They'd all joke around a bit and then they'd settle down and get back to work. It wouldn't be that hard to reestablish the old routine with them. But Vin was a different story. They didn't have a routine anymore. Chris rubbed his neck, trying to ease the ache that had sprung up, without letting Buck see what he was doing. His chest hurt, as well. But rubbing it wouldn't ease the ache in the slightest. If only it were that easy.
By the time he and Buck stepped into the elevator, Chris had managed to get a firm grip on his emotions. He'd had long years of practice, after all. Both before Sarah and Adam had come along, and after they had died. Before Vin had come along. So he was able to walk into the office and make a joke and smile a bit. And he was able to reply to Vin's less than enthusiastic welcome with no betraying tremble in his voice and no hint of anger at the sharpshooter's guilty expression. He was even able to make small talk with the others for a few minutes after the exchange with Vin before escaping to his office and closing the door. If only he could keep it closed.
Chris sat there, staring at his desk for a long time, listening to the faint sounds coming from the outer office. He finally looked up, glancing towards the clock on the far wall. It was just barely nine o'clock. Too early for whiskey. It was going to be a long day.
EIGHT
Only one more hour. Then he could go home, crack open a beer and forget everything. He was obviously real good at that, so it shouldn't be any big deal for him to do, right?Yeah right. And I suppose you'll be buyin' yourself a bridge bright and early tomorrow mornin', huh Tanner? Vin snorted in disgust. Maybe if he looked at the situation logically it would help.
1) Eight hours a day five days a week in the same office as Chris Larabee was no worse than the time he'd gotten separated from his unit on a training exercise, fallen halfway down a mountain and spent three nights in the rain and mud waiting to be rescued. He'd survived that. Six months worth of casts up to his armpits and he'd been good as new.2) He needed to eat and pay rent, therefore he needed a job. He liked the job he had now. He was good at it. He didn't want to find another one. And with the story of his amnesia floating about, no other team was gonna take him, so he could forget a transfer.
3) Conclusion? He needed to settle this thing with Chris for once and for all.
4) This was easier said than done.
And look where logic got me. Right the hell back where I started. Vin sighed and looked at his watch again. Forty-five minutes. He began pecking at his keyboard, a little more forcefully than necessary. And if he imagined that some of the keys were Chris Larabee's face, with its green eyes that were colder than a mountain glacier, well it wasn't nobody's business but his own.
Five minutes later, Vin stopped typing and glared at his monitor. Damn computer. It never acted this way for JD. It always gave the kid every last scrap of information he'd asked for, plus some. All Vin was asking for was one lousy file and the only thing it had to say was no way sucker. He drew in a slow breath and tried again, tapping the keyboard gently, coaxingly. When that didn't work, he went back to pounding on it. Then he turned it off. Then he turned it back on. All the while, the computer remained smugly certain that there was no such file when Vin knew damn well that there was!
Where the hell was JD when you needed him? Oh yeah. Chris had sent him and Ezra on a two day seminar about the threat posed to security by hackers. Well what about the threat posed by pissed off sharpshooters? This was all Chris's fault, anyway. Not only had he made Ez and JD unavailable, but he'd sent Nathan and Buck to testify on the Rawlin's case and Josiah was God only knew where, doing God only knew what, on some mission for their glorious leader. So now Vin was sitting here, frustrated, angry, and about ready to explode if anyone even looked cross eyed in his direction.
"Ain't no way I'm askin' that bastard for help. Wouldn't ask him for a sip of water if I was dyin' of thirst in the desert." Vin muttered aloud, giving his computer another hard look before pushing his chair back, ready to concede the battle.
"Something I can help you with, Vin? Or am I the bastard in question?" Chris Larabee's cool tones came from behind him, causing the sharpshooter to nearly jump out of his skin. Goddammit! Had the man always been this quiet? And what the hell was he doin' out of his office, anyway. He was usually holed up in it like a badger. Plotting new ways to make one Vin Tanner feel shittier than hell.
"Ain't no question about it." Vin swiveled around so that he was facing Chris. He was damned if he was gonna apologize for tellin' the truth. Chris had spent the last two weeks since his return to work acting like Vin was lower than a snake's belly and not hardly worth the time of day. It was like he didn't want Vin to remember him. Didn't want Vin to like him. And by God, he'd gotten his wish. Vin didn't like him one bit.
He didn't like the way Chris was always so carefully polite and formal with him. But he didn't like it any better those times when Chris acted like Vin was some slacker who wasn't pulling his weight, either. And he didn't like it that he had to feel guilty every time he took Ez or one of the other boys up on their invitations to hang out at the saloon after work or go watch football over at Buck and JD's or play poker at Nathan's. It hadn't escaped his notice that Chris was the first one to leave on every single one of those occasions. Not that there were many. Just enough so that the others didn't start to worry. They just chalked it up to Chris still recovering, but Vin knew better. And not only didn't he like it, he was gettin' pretty sick and damn tired of it.
"No question that you need help, or that I'm a bastard?" There was a flash of something close to humor in Chris's eyes, but it was gone so quick Vin couldn't be certain he'd actually seen it. But he knew what he was seeing. Red. He'd had a bellyful of this; Chris starting to act human and then all of a sudden remembering it was Vin he was talking to and turning back into a cold, stiff necked bastard. So what if Vin didn't remember him? It wasn't like he'd forgotten on purpose, no matter what those damned doctors said. What the hell did those quacks know, anyway?
"You tell me." Vin raised his chin pugnaciously. He may have been bested by the hunk of plastic and wire sitting on his desk, but Chris Larabee wasn't about to win that easily.
"I'll tell you two things. One, you typed in the wrong extension for the file." Chris leaned over, being careful not to touch him, and typed something quickly on the keyboard. Seconds later, the file Vin had been looking for popped onto the screen. The sharpshooter gritted his teeth. "Two, I didn't think I had to tell anyone what a bastard I am. I thought it was common knowledge." Chris turned to go back to his office, but Vin was spoiling for a fight and Chris was gonna give him one, even if he had to drag the other man kicking and screaming into the fray.
"If you're such an ornery cuss, why don't ya stick around for a few minutes and we can have ourselves a nice unfriendly sort of discussion? Cause I got a few things need sayin'."
"Another time, maybe." Chris again turned to go back to his office, but Vin sprang out of his chair and slid in front of the other man, blocking his way.
"I think now's as good a time as any."
"Then it's a good thing for me that you're not the Boss, so I don't have to worry about what you think." Chris tried to move around him, but Vin sidestepped, continuing to block his path.
"This ain't about work, so you bein' the Boss don't mean shit." Vin was belligerent and not about to be put off.
"I ain't in the mood for this, Tanner. Now move." Chris's composure was finally cracking a bit. About damn time. Vin wanted him fully pissed off and in the mood for this little confrontation.
"Nope." Vin allowed just the hint of a smirk to show.
Chris tightened his lips and narrowed his eyes, then he made a sudden feint towards Vin's right side and when Vin instinctively moved in that direction, the other man quickly dodged around him on the left. Chris might have made it too, if it wasn't for his cane getting caught on the leg of a chair.
Vin watched in horror as Chris seemed to fall in slow motion, landing heavily on his side. Awwww shit, he was some kind of personal fucking menace to this man or something. No wonder Chris hated him. Dropping down on one knee beside the fallen man, Vin hesitantly touched a shoulder. Chris flinched slightly and Vin cursed under his breath.
"You hurt?" Ok. He knew what a stupid question that was, having been on the receiving end of it more than once, but you still had to ask, right?
"I'm fine." Chris said through gritted teeth. Whether from pain or anger, Vin couldn't tell.
"You ain't fine. Your shoulder's hurt." Vin said, thinking of the way Chris had flinched from his touch. Like it had hurt.
"My shoulder's fine. Just move so I can get up." Chris was sounding more irritable by the second. Vin rose to his feet and stepped back, not offering his hand to the other man. He had a feeling it wouldn't be welcome.
"You oughtta see a doctor." Vin frowned at the way Chris was favoring his right leg as he struggled to his feet.
"I'm fine." Chris repeated stubbornly.
"Ain't."
"Am."
The two men glared at each other for a moment, til the ringing of the phone interrupted their contest of wills.
"Tanner, here." Vin reached back to grab the phone off his desk.
"Yeah. Hang on a sec." Vin held out the phone to Chris, who hobbled forward a few steps to take it gingerly out of his hand.
"Larabee." he barked into the receiver. Vin watched as a brief look of dismay passed quickly across Chris's face as he listened to whatever Josiah was telling him. But he didn't say anything beyond telling Josiah not to worry and that he'd be fine and tomorrow would be soon enough. Then he silently handed the phone back to Vin, who took it and hung it back up. Both men stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, before Chris finally shook his head wearily.
"You can go ahead and take off, Vin. You know the government doesn't like to pay overtime." Chris nodded his head towards the clock on the far wall. It read 5:15.
"What about you?" Vin asked, not moving. He knew it was Josiah's week to stay with Chris, which meant the big man would've driven them both to work, leaving Chris without a way to get home anytime soon, from the sound of it.
"Josiah ran down a possible lead for that gun smuggling ring we've been trying to crack. He needs to stay where he is and follow up on it. I'm going to finish up some work here and then I'll be heading home, too." Chris shrugged, avoiding the question he knew Vin was really asking.
"Come on, Larabee. We may not like each other much at the moment, but me givin' ya a ride home ain't gonna kill either one of us." Vin stated bluntly, tired of pretending.
Chris stared at him for long moments and Vin could see a refusal hovering on the edge of those lips. His own lips tightened in annoyance and determination and he stared unflinchingly back at Chris. Then the older man sighed unexpectedly and relaxed his stance.
"I'm too tired for any killing. How about you?" Chris's smile was small, but it was the first genuine one Vin had seen aimed in his direction since...well since he could remember.
"I reckon that's the case with me, too." Vin agreed. The thought of a knock down drag out fight had lost a lot of its appeal. Maybe they could have a civilized conversation about things, instead. Whatever the hell that meant. He wasn't even sure how you went about havin' one of those with a man. Hey, Chris. I hate you cause I can't remember you and you hate me cause I can't remember you but let's be friends, anyway. Yeah right. That'd go over like a lead balloon. Maybe punching each other's lights out was a better solution after all.
But Vin felt an odd sense of contentment as he and Chris went around the office, making sure everything was turned off and locked up before walking out to the elevators and waiting in silence for one to arrive. It had almost seemed familiar, like a ritual of some sort, like it wasn't the first time they'd done that together. But try as he might, he couldn't call up any memory of them doing so. Couldn't call up any memory of Chris at all, other than the last 2 1/2 months. There was just that strange sense of deja vu that he couldn't quite shake. And as they reached the parking garage, climbed into his jeep, and began heading down the highway leading to Chris's ranch, Vin had the even stranger sensation that he was going home. Where the hell had that come from?
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