Paradise Lost

by Tiffiny

"Turn right at the corner and then you'll go straight for about five miles." Chris stared straight ahead as he gave directions to his companion. Directions that shouldn't have been necessary. Wouldn't have been necessary if his goddamn former lover hadn't seen fit to forget everything about him after the accident. Chris heartily wished he could return the favor. Goddammit, Vin was just a skinny, long haired, no account sharpshooter. He could hardly write a literate sentence. He liked to get up at an ungodly hour in the morning. He made terrible coffee. And he was a stubborn bastard to boot. He...

He was sitting right there next to Chris, looking just like he did in Chris's dreams. The ones where Chris woke hot and fevered, thinking he could still feel the touch of Vin's hands, smell the scent of his skin. And then he'd go from red hot to ice cold when he realized that the only thing in bed with him was the ghost of memory. Chris didn't want any ghosts. He wanted Vin. He might as well wish for world peace, though. He stood a better chance of getting that. Chris fought off an insane desire to laugh at the thought. Or maybe cry. He wasn't sure which. He could feel his eye begin twitching. Next thing you know his lips would start trembling and then he'd be blubbering like some lovelorn idiot. In front of Vin. He'd rather be roasted over an open fire, thank you very much.

Chris tightened his lips, staring blindly out the window until he felt some semblance of control return. Shit. Tanner was driving him fucking crazy. Chris couldn't afford any more drain on his sanity. He had to get a grip. Grow up. Move on. Whatever. Like the commercial said - just do it.

"Is that it up ahead?" Vin slanted a look at Chris, trying to gauge his mood. The sharpshooter hadn't said anything up to now, just silently followed Chris's terse directions. He didn't want to be the one to break their fragile peace by putting his foot in his mouth. And by the way his Boss's jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth, Vin figured it wouldn't take much to set off the fireworks. Breathing too loud would probably do it. After staring at that cold, chiseled profile for a long moment though, Vin was tempted to push the boundaries. Hell, why not start a knockdown dragout settle this thing once and for all battle? They'd been in the midst of a cold war these past couple of months, anyway. Ever since he could remember. The irony of that didn't escape him. Despite what Ezra liked to say, Vin did have a nodding acquaintance with a literary device or two. Although he'd never give a genius a run for their money. But he could shoot straight. That was a hell of a recommendation for a man. Yeah. Vin looked away as the seconds ticked by and Chris still didn't answer him. His own lips tightened in annoyance. Dammit, but Chris Larabee could drive a saint to distraction. And Vin Tanner was no saint.

Yeah. That's... home." There was an underlying weariness to Chris's tone that spoke of more than the physical. Vin slanted another look at his companion. Home shouldn't be just another four letter word. Dammit. Just when he was all set on hating the man, Chris went and sounded human. Vulnerable. Shit. If Vin didn't watch himself, the next thing he knew he'd be wanting to soothe that tired brow. Wouldn't that just fry Chris Larabee's bacon? Yeah. And get one Vin Tanner into a heap of trouble, too.

The two men were silent for the rest of the short drive up the dirt road and onto the graveled drive leading to Chris's sprawling ranch house. Vin brought the jeep to a stop as close to the house as he could manage and then slowly unbuckled his seat belt and fumbled around with his keys, trying to give Chris time to get out unassisted without being too obvious. Vin knew all about being helpless and how it hurt a man's pride. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy. And Chris Larabee may have been an aggravating, pigheaded, colder than a mountain glacier, SOB, but Vin didn't think of him as an enemy. Although he wouldn't place bets on Chris feeling the same way about him.

Chris limped up the drive and managed to maneouver his way up the porch and open the front door without major mishap. The man was graceful, Vin had to admit. He reminded Vin of one of those big black cats he'd seen at the zoo a long time ago. They'd fascinated him - all that raw power and beauty.

Vin followed closely in Chris's footsteps, taking in his surroundings with a practiced ease. It was strange, knowing he'd been here countless times before and yet seeing it for the first time. Chris stripped off his coat and hung it on a stand by the door. He then leaned his cane carefully against the wall and glanced up at Vin with green eyes that gave nothing away.

"This way." Chris began walking purposefully down the long hallway until they came to a room that looked like a den or something. Vin was guessing that the wet bar in the corner had a lot to do with the reason Chris had chosen this particular room. Well, he had to admit that a whiskey or two didn't sound half bad right about now.

"What'll you have?" Chris asked, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass.

"Just a beer." Whiskey and driving didn't mix, more's the pity.

Chris just nodded and pulled out a bottle from the small fridge behind the bar. Vin wondered if it being his favorite brand was just coincidence. Maybe he and Chris just liked the same things and that's why they'd been friends. That was a more comfortable thought than Chris stocking this brand because it was Vin's favorite.

"Nice room." Vin was the first to break the silence that had fallen. He'd said it mostly just to have something to fill in the quiet, but as his gaze traveled slowly over his surroundings, he realized that it was true. It was a nice room. Austere, like its owner, but with everything a body needed to be comfortable. Not too much, not too little, like Goldilocks had said, it was just right.

"It's the kind of room you can take off your boots and get comfortable in." Vin hadn't really meant to say that aloud. It sounded so...personal. Looked like Chris thought so too, because those firm lips had folded themselves into a flat line and he'd turned half away from Vin, hunched over like a man recovering from a blow to the gut. Shit. Seemed like he couldn't spend twenty minutes in Chris's company without one of them getting their feathers ruffled. Although, Chris didn't look mad. He looked... hurt. That was worse, dammit. Vin didn't need any more guilt where Chris fucking Larabee was concerned.

"Yeah. I used to think so." Chris forced himself to straighten up and face Vin. He even dredged up a smile from somewhere. There was no way that Vin could know how many times he'd said those exact words to Chris in this room. And he couldn't know how many times he'd taken off more than his boots in this room. Chris could still see him, tossing his boots casually on the floor, quickly followed by jeans and shirt and whatever the hell else he was wearing til there was nothing left but Vin. Chris's smile softened at the memory and Vin sucked in his breath at the sight.

Jesus. What the Hell was Chris thinking about to make him smile like that? Did the man have any idea how incredibly fucking hot he looked? And why hadn't he ever noticed how good looking the man was before now?

Cause only a damn fool idiot gets involved with his Boss. Vin answered his own question. And it takes an even bigger fool to start gettin' ideas about his straighter than straight Boss, no matter how hot he looked smiling like that. Chris had been married. Had a kid. Had never dated a man that Vin heard tell. And he'd heard tell plenty. The other boys had been all too eager to try and jog his memory after the accident. They'd told him everything about Chris except the color of his underwear. No. Wait. Buck had said something about Chris liking to go commando once.

Ok, Tanner. Time to jump off that train of thought. Vin shifted uncomfortably, tearing his gaze away from Chris. He swallowed the rest of his beer in one gulp. It didn't really help, but it was something to do.

"Thanks for the ride." This time it was Chris who broke the silence. The fact that he looked as if the words might choke him made Vin feel marginally better.

"Yeah. Well. I figured it couldn't be any worse than drivin' my old Captain 350 miles across the desert with no water in a jeep that didn't have a roof, and a hat that had got blown off twenty miles into the trip."

"Sort of along the lines of that which does not kill us only makes us stronger?" Chris's voice held a thread of amusement.

"Somethin' like that." Vin smiled, feeling at ease in Chris's company for the first time. The mind numbing lust of a few minutes ago had been buried beneath a surge of something that felt dangerously akin to friendship. Or the possibility of friendship, anyway. Vin was surprised at how much he wanted that possibility.

"It's getting late. You got a long ride home." Chris spoke quietly, the warmth of a moment ago vanishing - replaced by the cool, impersonal tone Vin was accustomed to hearing.

"Chris." Vin stopped, no longer certain exactly what it was that he wanted to say.

The sound of the front door made both men look up and their eyes met for the first time that evening. Regret. Relief. And something else? Vin couldn't be sure.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Vin." Whatever moment they'd been about to share was gone. Making friends would have to wait for another day. Vin didn't know whether to thank Josiah or whether to shoot him for interrupting the first moment of any kind, good kind anyway, that he and Chris had ever shared. That he remembered. Dammit. Why the hell couldn't he remember? Shit. Shit. Shit.

Vin settled for a brief nod to Chris and an even briefer one to Josiah as he passed him in the hall. He had a lot to think about. Well, like Chris had said, it was a long drive home.

TEN

Vin got halfway to his jeep before he stopped and turned determinedly back around. He began marching back up the drive towards Chris's house, muttering under his breath. "Fuck this. Nothin' to think about. I ain't gonna spend the rest of my life tiptoein' around Chris Larabee. He don't like it, that's just tough. I'll pin his ass to the floor and sit on him if I have to, but one way or another we're having ourselves a good old fashioned clear the air sorta chat tonight."

Vin paused for a brief moment. It might be best if he didn't think too much about Chris's ass while he was in there. Yep. He resumed walking. For the best. Damn it all to hell.

Josiah opened the door in response to Vin's knock, as calm and unflappable as if the sharpshooter hadn't just sounded like he was trying to singlehandedly batter it to pieces. "Forget something, brother?"

"Real funny, Josiah. Don't quit your day job, though." Vin stalked through the doorway, glowering. "The only thing I seem to be forgetting this time is my good sense."

"And apparently any sense of self preservation you once had." Josiah observed, as he stepped back to let Vin pass.

Vin stopped and turned to look at him. "You got anything helpful to say? Like maybe whether Chris is still in the den or not?"

Josiah just shrugged. "Where else would you beard the lion? I'll be in the kitchen rolling bandages if you boys need me."

"You're a real pal, Josiah." Somehow though, the big man's words had calmed him. They'd had the ring of familiarity. Of ritual. He resumed walking towards the den, his gait a little less militant than before.

Chris was already struggling to his feet when Vin entered the room.

"Forget something?" Chris's voice wasn't particularly welcoming, nor was the look he directed at Vin.

"Everyone's a comedian." Vin muttered.

"Sorry." Chris replied stiffly. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know that." Vin sighed. "This might be easier if you had."

"What might be easier?"

"The little chat I aim for us to have."

"I don't think..."

"Don't recall askin' what you think." Vin interrupted, determined to have his say.

Chris's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Shit." Vin cursed. Throwing Chris to the ground - Oooh nice visual there, Tanner.- and forcing him - Focus, Tanner. Focus. - to listen to ya probably aint the best way to start off our new friendship.

"Chris..." he tried again.

"I think you'd better..."

"No." Vin spoke reflexively, his voice sharp. Chris's lips tightened and the sharpshooter struggled to find some way of salvaging the situation. "Please, Chris." It was the best he could come up with.

Chris stared at him for a long moment before sighing heavily and dropping back down onto the couch. He scrubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "Say your piece." The words, and then get out, hovered unspoken in the air.

Vin echoed his sigh, removing his hat and running his fingers through his hair. He stared down at Chris, frowning slightly. "We was friends once, right? Leastways, that's what everyone keeps trying to tell me."

Chris shrugged. "I suppose you could say that."

"We ever fight?"

"Sometimes."

"Were we fightin' when we had the accident?"

Chris hesitated before finally replying. "No. We weren't fighting exactly."

"Either we was fightin' or we wasn't."

"Guess you could say we had a slight difference of opinion about something."

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what that something was?"

"Doesn't matter now."

"You're a prize winning bastard, you know that?"

"Been told that a time or two."

"Don't know why in hell I want us to be friends."

Chris just looked at him.

"Awwww hell, Larabee. I'm sorry I don't remember you, ok? That's a shitty thing to do to a friend. Especially after you saved my life and everything. I'm an asshole."

Chris still didn't say anything.

"Ok. How about this. I'm an asshole and an ingrate. You're a mean son of a bitch and a stubborn bastard, to boot. So whaddya say? Wanna be friends?"

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Chris's mouth. "You really are an asshole, Tanner."

"Been told that a time or two."

"I'm sure you have."

"Well then..." Vin trailed off, suddenly awkward. Trying to cover it, he held out his hand with a strained smile. "Shake on it?"

Chris glanced down at his own clenched hands for a brief moment before lifting one of them slowly up to grasp Vin's outstretched hand. "There's just one thing." Chris's tone left no room for argument. Whatever he was about to say, Vin could just like it or go straight to hell. There would be no compromise.

"What's that?" Vin asked quietly, his fingers curving around Chris's hand.

"We start with a clean slate from here on out. I don't want to discuss the past. Ever. That clear?"

""Bout as clear as it gets, I expect."

The two of them shook hands briefly and then Vin stepped back.

"See you at work tomorrow?"

"If Josiah doesn't kill us getting there."

"I heard that." The big man appeared at the door as if by magic, a wide smile nearly splitting his face in two. Vin realized, with a twinge of guilt, that he and Chris hadn't been the only ones who'd been suffering lately. That one for all and all for one thing had its down side.

"Now, now. Ain't Josiah's fault he never learned to drive. Need a real vehicle for that. Not one of them kiddie carryalls like he drives." Vin shook his head at Chris in mock reproach.

"Big words for a man who drives a tonka toy." Josiah pointed out.

"Neither of you would know a decent set of wheels if they left tire tracks across your forehead." Chris snorted.

Arguing amiably, the three men escorted Vin outside to his much maligned jeep. With such small steps are great journeys begun.

+ + + + + + +

"Awwwwww hell. This ain't gettin' me nowhere. Ain't got me nowhere for the past two months. Damn Chris Larabee and his tight ass, anyway." Vin Tanner rolled over and punched his pillow in frustration. When that didn't work, he sat up and switched on the bedside light before flopping back down on the bed. He lay there, unmoving, as he stared fixedly at the crack running along his bedroom ceiling.

"Ok, Tanner. Just like your old sarge used to tell ya. Look at the facts. Make your plan. And don't forget your gun."

Vin held up a finger, pursing his lips, as he began ticking off imaginary items.

"Fact number one. Chris Larabee is your Boss with a capital B."

"Fact number two. Chris Larabee is your friend, as well as your Boss."

"Fact number three. You like your job and you need the paycheck."

"Fact number four. You want to fuck Chris Larabee senseless."

"Fact number five. You ain't gonna have a job or a friend if you try number four."

"Fact number six. You don't care about any of the above facts. Except for the one about wanting to fuck Chris blind." Or was it senseless? No matter. Both applied.

"Fact number seven. You've lost your everloving mind."

"Fact number eight. You may be out of your everloving mind, but you still got eyes."

"Fact number nine. You've caught Chris looking at you once or twice. Looking at you like it meant something."

"Fact number ten. You're not only out of your everloving mind, you're delusional."

"Well that was real helpful." Vin muttered sourly, lowering his hand. "Worked a whole lot better in the Army. But I ain't in the friggin' Army anymore."

Still, once a soldier, always a soldier. So Vin perservered.

"A plan. A plan. Hmmmm..."

"Well, I could just ask him out. Simple. Straightforward. And about the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

"I could get him really, really drunk and take advantage of him. Why the hell not? Ok. Ok. I know why the hell not."

"I could hire a goddamn mariachi band to serenade him?"

"Or I could just keep my mouth shut and find someone else to fuck. Someone who ain't my Boss and ain't my friend and ain't named Chris Larabee."

Vin sighed and turned out the light. Eventually he fell asleep.

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