2151 MDT
Room 421, Psychiatric Ward
Vin's head felt like an fish bowl sloshing over with water. Every time he opened his eyes, the room before him swirled and blurred. But when he closed his eyes, he felt like he was sinking. Instinct told him to swim, to fight his way back to the surface, but he couldn't move his arms or legs. All he could do was lie there, slowly drowning in the blackness behind his closed lids.
His mind screamed in agony, in terror and frustration. But he didn't have the energy to open his mouth and actually make the noise. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, could feel the trembling of his limbs as he waited for the worst to happen to him.
They'd drugged him, they'd restrained him. Now he was helpless. He knew they'd already broken his arm, he could feel the ache, the throbbing. He wondered what they'd do next. It didn't matter, really. He knew where it would end. Where it always ended. Damn fag, they'd say, then they'd fuck him just to prove how superior they were.
Then, he heard a voice -- a familiar voice -- and he struggled through the haze of the drugs. God, did they have Chris, too? "Chris!" he shouted, though the name seemed to stick in his parched throat.
Then he felt a hand on his face and he flinched away. Don't gag me. Please, don't gag me, his mind screamed as he squinted his eyes closed and clamped his mouth shut, hoping they would leave him alone. Hoping he could bide his time long enough to somehow manage to save Chris from his same fate.
He didn't know who they were or why they were hurting him, he couldn't remember. What had he done this time? What had he ever done? Why did they keep hurting him? Why did they keep slapping him? Beating him? Raping him? He just wanted to be left alone. That's all he ever wanted. He kept his mouth shut. He'd learned that lesson long ago. He bit back his sarcasms, his attitudes. Yet even that didn't save him.
"Answer me!" they'd yell. And when he would, smack. "Don't back-talk me, boy!" would come the reply.
"You stupid little shit," they'd say, then, "You damn smart-ass."
None of it made any sense to him now, because none of it had ever made any sense.
And when he was older, it only got worse. He'd always known he was cute. It was one of the things he remembered his mother telling him. "How'd you get to be so cute?" "My little cutie-patootie." "Can you be any cuter? Can you?" she'd tease and laugh. He still remembered her laugh, though so much else of her was forever gone from his memories.
But even that had been taken from him in a way. Twisted, deformed, from a loving tease into a hurtful taunt. "You think you're so fucking cute." "Only whores are as cute as you and you know what happens to them." Then they'd pin him, sometimes hold him, or tie him. They'd always fuck him. "Is this what you like, you cute little homo?" "What's that, cutie pie? Did you scream my name? Did you?" "You want it harder? Yeah, harder?" "You like that?"
They never came inside him. He couldn't ever remember that happening. No, they'd pull out and whack themselves into release, spewing their jism over his bare backside as if he were a tree to be pissed on.
He remembered the first time he managed not to cry, when he was somehow able to hold back the tears. He'd gotten a blow to the head for the brave attempt. So, he learned how to cry, when to cry, how hard, how many tears.
He cried now. Hoping for even the smallest measure of sympathy, that they would believe his tears meant submission to their fucked up, twisted game. Maybe if he didn't fight them, they'd let him off easy. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes was better than never.
2156 MDT
"What'd you give him?" Chris demanded of the nurse.
"It's just a sedative, sir. You should let him rest."
"You call what he's doing over there resting?" Chris glanced over his shoulder at Vin's bed. The man was writhing under the sheets, like he was trying to curl himself up into a safe little ball, if only the restraints wouldn't prevent him. Worse, he'd shied away when Chris had put a gentle hand to his cheek.
"You listen to me. I want those restraints taken OFF him and I want you to stop giving him whatever crap's in that sedative."
"I can't do that, sir. You'll have to talk to Dr. Haller."
Chris set his jaw. He was torn. Did he rip Vin out of the restraints himself? Did he plant himself down beside that bed and prevent them from injecting any more of that shit into him? Or did he march out of the room and track down that sadistic shrink?
Finally, he chose to return to Vin's side. He tried one more time to comfort his friend, his love, with a warm yet gentle touch. But before he could lay a hand on him, Chris noticed the tears streaming down Vin's face. With a quick, deep breath, the ATF team leader turned and stormed out to find the damn doctor.
A few minutes later, he found Vin's shrink in her office -- it was a small room with utilitarian blinds over a frosted-glass window. The desk, much like his own, was gray steel with a mottled-beige laminate top, piled with files and stacks of paper, again, much like his own these days.
Suddenly Chris decided a new approach was in order. "I know you're busy, but can I talk to you?"
"That's what they pay me for," she said, the previous degree of coldness gone from her voice.
"Vin's a real private man, and I'm not one for meddling in other people's business, but there's something you need to know. He's had a hard life, all his life. I don't know all the details, but I do know he was tied once -- at least once -- and beaten, maybe worse, when he was young, in foster care."
The doctor sighed, reaching for a file, then jotting down a few notes. "Anything else I need to know about your friend?"
"He's a good man. Despite all the hell he's been through."
She nodded. "I've got some of his lab tests back. His iron level is low. That might have contributed to his accident."
"How?"
She shrugged slightly. "Nausea, weakness, fatigue, dizzy spells, fainting.... There's a number of ways these symptoms could affect him. Both mentally and physically. But it's hard to say specifically -- I'm just speculating until I can speak with him."
"But what you're saying is he could be mentally altered because he's anemic?"
"Unlikely, but in combination with the car accident and the surgery...."
"Then, he may not realize he's in a hospital," Chris interrupted, latching on to his one last hope to spare Vin from any more anxiety. "He may think he's back in that foster home, being tied and hurt again."
Chris saw the doctor swallow hard before she finally said, "It's possible."
"Then you have to get him out of those restraints!" Chris insisted, not believing that this doctor hadn't yet to come to the same conclusion.
"I can't do that. I can't leave him unattended and unrestrained, not until I can properly assess his mental state."
"Then I'll watch him," Chris eagerly offered.
"You're not a trained medical professional."
Nathan immediately sprung to mind. "Then I'll get you one. I know a medic with current E.M.T. certification."
"Is he on staff here?" she asked, but when Chris shook his head, she turned him down. "The hospital won't permit it."
"Then isn't there anyone here who can watch him? A private nurse maybe?" Chris knew the government health plan wouldn't cover such a luxury, and he knew even Ezra wouldn't be able to convince them it was really a necessity. "I'll pay for it, personally."
Finally the doctor nodded. "If you'll wait out in the reception area, I'll check on Mr. Tanner again, then see if I can find someone qualified and willing at this late hour."
"Thank you," Chris said, and meant it. Fighting the urge to follow the doctor back to Vin's room, he headed toward the locked doors at the end of the hallway. He waited only a few moments for the nurse at the receptionist's desk to see him and decide he wasn't a patient before buzzing him through.
0008 MDT, Friday, July 20
Chris held Vin's unrestrained hand in his, resting his cheek against the back side. They weren't alone in the room, so Chris was careful what he said and kept his demonstrativeness in check. In the far corner, a nurse, probably closer in age to Josiah than to himself, sat reading a book. The white cover with gold flourishes was covered by a clear, plastic dust-jacket -- a Danielle Steel novel from the library. Other than moving Chris's chair to the opposite side of Vin's hospital bed and turning the equipment monitors slightly, so that she would have a clear view of all from her roost, Florence Nightingale had done nothing to care for Vin. Hell, Nathan would have done more and gladly! Though, in a way, Chris was thankful for the space. With Nate hovering like he so often did, he wouldn't have been able to just sit here with Vin, waiting for him to wake up.
The doctor had finally removed the restraints, and Chris swore Vin's body immediately relaxed, even before she gave him an injection of some drug she said would counteract the affects of the sedative. Chris assumed that meant he would regain consciousness, but all that happened was, instead of being fitful, Vin finally just rested. That had been a few hours ago. Still, at least it meant he could hold Vin's hand, without the man trying to tear it away, shaking with fear.
Chris's heavy lids were forcing themselves shut when Vin finally blinked his own eyes open. "Chris?" he muttered softly. "Are ya okay?"
He was instantly awake again, smiling at Vin's absurd question. "Fine, pard." Chris glanced quickly over at the attending nurse, but she had nodded off, her book forgotten in her lap. Yup, money well spent on that one, he noted as he leaned over enough to place a gentle kiss on Vin's forehead, then trailing his lips down slowly to place another kiss softly on the man's dry lips.
"Where are we?" Vin finally asked.
"You're favorite place," Chris whispered.
"Hospital, huh?"
"Yup."
"Don't reckon yer here ta take me home," the patient said, no true hope in his voice.
"Sorry. Not yet. You busted up your arm pretty good, so you'll be here a few days just for that. And...." Chris began, but he just couldn't finish.
"And, what?" Vin prodded him, squeezing the hand he still held for emphasis.
"They'll be wanting to talk to you, about the accident."
Vin nodded. "Didn't figure anything short of death'd get me outta talkin' ta that ATF shrink."
"Vin!" Chris admonished with a harsh whisper, still mindful of not waking the nurse. "Don't kid about stuff like that. Not now. Not here!" But all Vin did was furrow his brows. And Chris knew he had to tell the man. "You're in the Psych Ward. They've got you under observation. They think ... maybe ... you tried to crash your car."
"Tried to crash.... What happened to MY JEEP?!" Vin raised his voice, suddenly alarmed, and that extra volume was enough to wake the attending nurse. She immediately got to her feet, pretending as best she could that she hadn't been asleep just a moment before.
She inspected the equipment monitors and their connections to Vin. Then she quickly checked Vin. Satisfied, she moved to the telephone on the wall and dialed a three-digit number. A moment later Chris heard her say, "Mr. Tanner is awake." She then returned to her chair and resumed her reading.
Chris returned his attention to Vin. "I'm not sure what happened. That's what they want to talk to you about. What were you doing way out here in Summit County anyway?"
But Vin just shook his head. And Chris sighed. "If you won't tell me, you better tell them" -- he pointed over his shoulder at the unseen hospital staff somewhere outside Vin's room -- "Or they'll keep you here until you do."
"They can't keep me here. They got no right."
"Yeah, they do, Vin. They can keep you for seventy-two hours without a court order and there isn't anything you or I can do about it. Trust me, I've been arguing with your doctor for the last, um" -- he checked his watch -- "five hours." Then he couldn't stop himself from yawning.
The man's eyes widened at Chris's display. "It's late, huh?" Vin asked and Chris nodded. "You, ah, gonna go home? Sleep some?"
Chris noted an odd strain in the man's voice -- these weren't just idle questions. And, when Vin tightened his hold on Chris's hand, he knew the man was still afraid, of being left here, alone. This wasn't his normal I-hate-hospitals response.
But, before he could question him, Vin's doctor entered the room. "Mr. Tanner, I'm glad you're awake. I'm Dr. Haller." She held out her hand, but Vin just nodded, not releasing Chris's hand to return the gesture. The doctor then addressed Chris: "Would you wait in the reception area, Mr. Larabee? Please," she added, softening her detached, clinical tone.
But at that request, Vin tightened his grip on Chris's hand again, though his face displayed no emotion. Chris knew Vin didn't want him to leave, but he also wasn't going to make a scene about it. "I'd rather stay," Chris replied.
"I know," the doctor said as she held out her hand to him, offering him the door and no other alternatives. Finally Chris relented. "Someone will come get you when we're finished," she promised.
"I'll be back soon," Chris assured his companion as he tried to hide the force with which he needed to extricate his hand from Vin's.
As Chris made his way down the hall, he wondered if any of the other fellas would be waiting for him. He'd called them all, the last time he'd been exiled to the lobby to wait. It had been late even then, but Chris knew they'd all want to know. He hated that he had to tell them, though. He knew Vin wouldn't appreciate the whole team knowing he was locked up in Psych, even if he probably shouldn't be. And he knew the boys wouldn't be allowed in to see him. They'd all make the long drive out here for nothing. But, it was either that or have to tell them in the morning and then there would have been a mass-exodus from the office to the hospital anyway.
0044 MDT
Vin didn't want to talk to this doctor. He knew he wasn't crazy. He just hated hospitals. Was it wrong for him to want to go home? Or, at the very least, have Chris back in the room with him?
"Mr. Tanner," the doctor began, sitting down beside the bed in what had been Chris's chair. "I need to ask you a few questions." He nodded silently. "How are you feeling right now?"
He shrugged. "Fine."
The woman quirked a small smile. "Mr. Tanner, if I'm going to be of any help to you, you have to be honest with both me and yourself. Can you do that?" She waited until he nodded. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Reckon my arm's a bit sore," he indicated the left one, which was bandaged -- the internal screws making an actual cast and traction thankfully unnecessary.
"Would you like something for the pain?"
He shook his head. He didn't like being in hospitals. But, the thing he hated most wasn't the fussing and the food, like his friends all teased him about. It was the ease with which the doctors and nurses handed out the pain killers, the narcotics. When he'd lived on the streets, Vin had learned the hard way to always keep his guard up, and in training with the Rangers he'd learned to never let his guard down.
Yeah, sure, he wasn't on the streets any more, or in the army. He had a job, money, food, an apartment, friends, and he didn't have to be quite as diligent, but still the habit had never entirely left him. And you couldn't very well be on your guard if they doped you up with God-knows-what every four hours.
"You let me know if you change your mind, Mr. Tanner," the doctor said, regarding the pain killers. "Can you tell me why you're here?"
"Broke my arm," he suggested the obvious.
"Do you know how?"
What had Chris just told him? Car crash? He tried to remember. Not just Chris's words, but the actual accident. But he couldn't and shook his head.
"What do you remember about yesterday? Thursday?" the doctor finally prompted him.
He shrugged. "We'd been working on a case -- I work fer the ATF -- and it wrapped yesterday morning. It was a clean bust. The bad guys went down and we didn't." The doctor nodded, waiting for him to continue. Finally, he added, "We headed back ta the office. I started in on my paperwork. That's 'bout it."
He hadn't forgotten about the shooting -- about the young runaway he'd personally put in an early grave -- but, he had a suspicion that the ATF brass wouldn't appreciate him telling tales outside the Bureau. Besides, he didn't figure this had anything to do with that anyway. How could it?
"And after that? When did you leave the office; where did you go?"
Vin thought a moment, trying to remember the time. "It was late afternoon, just 'fore rush hour" -- which anyone who lived in Denver knew was closer to three hours than one, depending on the day. "I had a lead ta check out, so I made the drive out ta Dillon."
"And, did you get what you needed?"
"No. The lead didn't pan out. It happens," he shrugged, but the memory of him just sitting outside that white-stucco house in the quiet, middle-class neighborhood flashed into his mind.
"And did anything happen on the way home?"
Vin shook his head. But, he knew he'd never made it home, so maybe something had happened. He thought again. "I, ah, was supposed ta have dinner with a friend, but it was gettin' late and I knew I wouldn't make it back in time, so I was gonna call."
"Did you?"
Vin dropped his gaze to the soft blanket which covered him from mid-chest down. "I remember reachin' fer the phone -- I'd thrown it in the glove box -- and...." his words trailed off. There was more, but what was it? "I think maybe I got dizzy leanin' over?"
"Do you recall anything after that?"
"Lights -- bright white ones -- which hurt my eyes. Then, just now, talkin' ta Chris." In between he knew he'd had some dreams -- they seemed clearer, more real, to him than anything else -- but he had no intention of telling her about them. They weren't anybody's business.
The doctor nodded her head, continuing to make notes in her folder. Finally she stood, "We'll talk more tomorrow."
"So, when do I get outta here?"
The doctor looked straight at him. "I'm going to have a few more tests run, then we'll talk again. I'll be sending in a nutritionist to speak with you as well, so be as forthcoming with her as you can. Your iron level is low and I'd like to know why."
As much as Vin hated talking to doctors, he almost wished this one wouldn't go, at least not until Chris returned. He did notice the nurse still sitting in the corner, still reading her book. He felt a little relief from her presence, but he'd feel a whole lot better with Chris nearby.
0046 MDT
Psychiatric Ward Reception Area
"Buck. JD," Chris said once he'd been buzzed through the controlled doors.
"What's goin' on here, Chris?" Buck was immediately out of his seat and in his old friend's face. "Why they got Vin locked up?"
"Vin isn't crazy," JD added from his position just a few feet behind Buck.
Chris pushed passed them both and sat down. He was tired, beat down. What a fucking brilliant way to end a fucking long week. Ezra appeared from somewhere, joining his friends, but kept silent, waiting for Chris to tell them in his own time.
"They've just got him in for observation."
"Why?" Buck and JD insisted in unison.
"Doesn't make a whole lotta sense to me, but at first they suspected he was trying to drive his Jeep off the Straight River bridge--"
"He'd never do that!" JD immediately said.
"Yeah, he loves that old hunka junk," Buck added, undoubtedly trying to diffuse the deep emotions betrayed in the kid's voice.
Chris quirked a smile, but he saw JD frown and realized the kid was currently incapable of appreciating Buck's attempt at levity. Shit. This whole thing had to be hitting the kid pretty hard, especially after the shooting that morning.
"Well, I don't have all the details. Ezra, would you mind running down the police report tomorrow? And, fellas," he addressed his other two friends, "maybe you could check out the Jeep, see how bad it's banged up. Might ease Vin's mind to know if it can be repaired."
The pair nodded, and Chris could see having a job to do, something which would help Vin, drove some of the serious worry from JD's young face.
"What about you, Mr. Larabee? How may we be of assistance to you?"
"I'm fine, Ez."
"You don't look fine, pard," Buck said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You look well over-due for a good sleep."
Chris nodded. It was true. He could feel it in his bones, in his joints, muscles, and mind. But he couldn't leave Vin. The ranch was too far away. "I'll get a hotel near here tomorrow."
The boys nodded. "But that does not take care of tonight," Ezra reminded his team leader.
"Look. There's no reason for you guys to--" but his words were interrupted by the buzzing of the doors. Vin's doctor stepped toward them and Chris motioned for the men to stay behind as he crossed the lobby, meeting her halfway.
"He's lucid, which is a good sign. Though, he either couldn't or wouldn't elaborate much on the events of yesterday."
"He's not a big talker, so I'd guess wouldn't."
"Well, that remains to be seen. There's still a question about the iron-deficiency anemia, so I'm running more tests. And I'm still going to keep him here -- but I'll re-evaluate him again tomorrow."
"You're not gonna put him back in those restraints, are you?"
To Chris's relief, she shook her head. "Not unless something happens. The nurse will need to stay with him until I'm more confident that he's not working his way up to a psychotic episode. Like I said, I'll re-evaluate him tomorrow, physically and mentally."
"Can I go back in?"
"It's against standard policy, but, well, with the nurse there, I think that would be all right. Just remember, if anything happens, keep out of the way and let the hospital staff handle things -- even if you don't agree with what they're doing. We can always talk about it later."
"Okay." It wasn't a promise. He couldn't promise not to try to protect Vin if something didn't sit right with him, but he also knew he'd found a way to work with this doctor and right now that seemed to be the best thing for Vin.
"How about his friends? Can they see him?"
She shook her head. "I'd like to limit it for now. There's just too much missing information still and I don't want to inadvertently complicate things for Mr. Tanner. Maybe tomorrow."
Chris nodded, though he wasn't happy with her answer, and he knew the boys wouldn't be happy either.
She left then, heading to the reception desk, then pointing back over her shoulder at Chris as she spoke to the nurse stationed there. Chris returned to his team, his friends.
"He's doing okay. Guess that means better. The doc's gonna let me back in, but says that's it for visitors tonight. Maybe tomorrow."
"Ah, why can't we see him? Might cheer him up to know we're here."
"I'll tell him, JD," Chris offered with a tired smile.
But Buck said, "Now, kid, ya know how riled Nathan'd be if we got in there before he did."
"Where is Nate?" Chris finally asked. "And Josiah?"
"We couldn't reach them. But now that we know more about Vin's condition, I'll try them both again," Ezra offered. "But I must warn you, no matter what I say, they'll be knocking on that hallway door at the crack of dawn tomorrow."
"That would actually be today, pards. It's after one now," Buck reminded them all.
"Go home, fellas. No use in us all being good-for-nothing in the morning."
"Not that that would be any different where Ezra's concerned," Buck joked again, but JD gave him a frown and the older man hung his head at the scolding, though Chris saw the smile still plastered beneath his mustache.
Reluctantly, the friends boarded the elevator, while Chris asked the receptionist to let him back into the ward, so he could sit with Vin again.
0400 MDT, Saturday, July 21
Room 412
"Chris!" Vin's whisper was harsh in the still room, so close to his companion's ear that it startled the man awake.
"I'm here, Vin, but keep it down or you'll wake her," he said, indicating the again-snoozing nurse.
"What's she doin' here anyways?" Vin asked, frowning at her presence, though he preferred her to no one at all.
"Keeping you out of restraints."
Vin frowned at the man's answer.
"Do you remember earlier? Waking up with your hands and feet tied?"
Vin thought, but all he could remember were the dreams, the nightmares, of a time he wished he could forget, wished had never, ever happened. Vin finally shook his head, no.
"After surgery, they restrained you, thought maybe you might hurt yourself. You weren't awake when they first let me in, but I could see you struggling against the bonds. I knew it wasn't right, that you'd be better without them, but your struggling only confirmed their suspicions that you needed restraining."
Vin waited for more from Chris. Usually adults made more sense than this, and he had to wonder what drugs the nurses had been slipping into his IV when he wasn't looking. He shook his head to clear it, figuring it was him not understanding more than Chris not making sense.
Chris reached up then and stroked a strand of his long hair, which had fallen across his shoulder. "They agreed to undo the restraints, if there was a qualified nurse here to watch you. So, there you go," he gestured to the woman, slumped in the chair with her forgotten book barely hanging onto its place in her lap.
Well, she seems harmless, Vin thought. "Wish we had some privacy," Vin whispered and Chris agreed with a smile, squeezing Vin's hand.
"We'll have lots back at the ranch," he assure the younger man and Vin knew the truth of it. He only wished they were there now. He felt safe at the ranch, always had.
Vin wanted to make Chris promise not to leave him until he was released from the hospital, but he knew that wasn't a promise the man would be able to keep. He knew the nurses and doctors would kick Chris out eventually, for some reason or another. And then he'd be alone. He didn't want to be alone. Not here.
His eyes wandered again to the sleeping nurse in the corner. Harmless, he reminded himself, but hopefully not too light of a sleeper if he needed her once Chris was gone.
0711 MDT
Psychiatric Ward Reception Area
Knowing you could always put money down on Ezra's predictions -- he never made them on mere speculation -- Chris was not surprised to see Josiah and Nathan waiting for him in the lobby.
"How's Vin?" they immediately asked.
"Not bad. Busted arm, a few bruises, and they're still running some tests."
"Fer what?" Nathan, their resident mother hen and part-time E.M.T., immediately inquired.
"Doc says he's anemic."
"You see? You see! I was right. Not that I like bein' right when it means sufferin' fer you fellas, but now maybe you'll listen ta me once in a while." Both men stared at the former army medic, wondering what new tirade he was on about. "You've seen what that boy eats. Junk. Nothin' but sugar and caffeine. So what happened?"
Chris stared at the black man for another moment, making sure he was done with his rant. "There was a car accident. Vin's Jeep nearly went into the Straight River. The details are still sketchy -- Vin's not talking much, not that he ever does, but he doesn't quite remember it all yet either -- but it's possible he passed out from the anemia."
"Can we see him?" Josiah asked, but Chris shook his head.
"The doctor says not until she's had a chance to speak with him again. Then she'll let us know."
"Let us know?" Nathan gave an exasperated sigh, but then something dawned on the man and he was in Chris's face once again. "Wait a minute. If he's just busted up, bruised, and anemic, why's he on THIS floor?"
Chris hung his head. It had been hard enough explaining this to the other fellas last night. He really didn't want to rehash it all again -- it just made him feel so damn helpless. "The doctor says he was altered and despondent. She wants to check him out, make sure he's fine."
"The Bureau okay with that?" Josiah asked. Chris knew as well as Josiah did, from all their years on the payroll, how things really worked. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms liked to keep their business to themselves, and any agent of theirs, on duty or off, was their business. "If this isn't handled right, Vin could be out on his ass." And they all knew what the ATF meant to Vin and how much more Team Seven meant to him, how much more he meant to the team.
"I don't know," Chris finally admitted. He was too tired to put on a strong face for anyone anymore. At least Vin was sleeping peacefully. Finally. He made Chris promise not to leave, but the nurses finally kicked him out and he didn't have any choice -- even calling out Vin's name didn't wake the exhausted young man.
"I talked to A.D. Travis last night. He's pulled some strings, somehow, and got me past the watchdogs at the admittance desk," Chris informed them. As members of the team, and Vin's friends, they did need to know. "So, he's aware of the situation. He wants to keep this internal. It might not be a bad thing -- Vin's always had clean psych evaluations in the past -- and the ATF shrinks'll have that on file. This doc has nothing but a couple of brief conversations to go on."
"Yeah, maybe the Bureau can handle this better. As long as we're right about him and this doc is wrong," Nathan said, adding, "I just hope what happened yesterday didn't tip him over some edge none of us realized was there."
"It didn't. He's fine," Chris insisted. Vin was not crazy. Great, now he was sounding like JD. The man raked his fingers through his greasy blond hair. He needed a shower, food, a nap....
As if the two men could hear their leader's thoughts, Josiah offered him a piece of paper. "JD thought you might need this. He got you an 8 a.m. room reservation at the Best Western just down the road. They're even supposed to have a coffee shop."
"If you leave now, you oughta be able ta grab somethin' ta eat before they have your room ready. We'll stay here, in case anythin' changes."
"No need, fellas. They won't tell you anything. Hell, they're barely telling me anything. But, at the very least, it'll be a few hours. And, when I left, Vin was sleeping, so.... You know, I've got the others doing some leg work on this -- checking on the Jeep, running down the police report; I'd really appreciate you two heading back to the office, holding down the fort. I'm just not gonna make it in today."
The pair nodded. "We'll handle things. Don't worry about it. But call if anything changes with Vin."
Chris agreed and the three rode down in the elevator in silence.
1018 MDT
Room 412
"Please, Mr. Tanner. I can't help you if all you do is state the facts. I'm not interrogating you here, I'm trying to help you," Dr. Haller insisted.
Vin merely nodded.
"So, can you at least tell me why you don't want to talk to me?"
Now he just shrugged. He really didn't know what she wanted him to say, but he felt stupid telling her that. Then again, what if he said the wrong thing? Or something which might get back to the ATF? Something that might get him fired. He didn't want to be fired, not after he'd finally found the one thing he'd been secretly looking for all his life. A family. And he was afraid they'd all just drift apart if he wasn't part of the team anymore. They'd find a new sharpshooter, a new firearms expert. Maybe that Frank Riley feller who'd been visiting from Atlanta; all the guys had liked him and he knew his stuff--
"Mr. Tanner? How about we start with what you were just thinking about?"
"Bein' fired; losin' my job" -- he didn't say friends, knowing she wouldn't realize it was implied -- "because of somethin' I might say ta ya. Somethin' which would make a difference ta the folks in charge at the ATF."
"I can assure you, Mr. Tanner, whatever you say to me will not be shared. It'll go in your file, then into my filing cabinet and no further."
Vin shook his head. He may not be the smartest man ever to live, but he knew how things worked, especially how they worked in the government -- places like the army and the ATF. They had ways, plenty of them -- legal and otherwise -- to get whatever they wanted, if they had reason to want them. So, if they wanted to read his medical files, they'd damn well read them and no good-intentioned civilian shrink would stand in their way.
"You don't trust me?" she asked.
"I don't know ya well enough ta answer that question. But I sure don't trust them."
"You're sounding a little paranoid, Mr. Tanner."
"Got a right ta be. Just me bein' locked up in this place has put my job on the line. Yer kiddin' yerself if ya don't admit that. The ATF is in the business of keepin' armed loonies off the streets, not handin' 'em weapons and sendin' 'em out there ta protect America."
"We don't like that term around here, Mr. Tanner. No one in this ward is looney -- some are very ill, others just need help regaining their perspective."
He knew Ezra would have made some crack about political correctness, but Vin didn't have the energy to even try to be witty or sarcastic. "Fact remains, I may not have a job by the time ya come to yer senses and let me outta this place. Pretty much depends what ya write in that little file of yers and what ya tell the ATF folks when they come 'round."
"Fine," the doctor finally said, putting the folder down and laying her pen on top of it. "It's just you and me, then. No paper, no tape recorders, no witnesses. Say what you want, I won't tell them anything -- you have your rights in this state, Mr. Tanner, and I'll do everything I can to protect them."
"Like keepin' Chris out?"
"You want him out? He's out. I thought I was doing you both a favor, but that'll stop right now, if that's what you want."
Vin shook his head. He was trying to make a point: that she wouldn't be able to hold out against the ATF brass anymore than she'd held out against Chris. "He can come back. Just, ah, just don't tell him what we say."
"You have my word. So, can we talk now?"
Vin shrugged. He didn't know what to talk about. "What do ya want me ta say?"
"Well, I have some questions; how about we start there -- see where it goes?" Vin agreed. "It says in your records that you have no next of kin. Is that recent?"
Vin shook his head. Hell, she was just gonna drag up every goddamn painful memory for him, wasn't she? And would she care one whit about him when he'd bleed himself dry? Nope. You just can't pay people enough to care -- Ezra's words, though Vin had always agreed with them.
"I don't remember much 'bout my ma dyin'. Seems kinda strange that I'd ferget somethin' like that, but I was just a little feller. Reckon I missed her, but I don't know that I really understood what dead meant back then.
"I was in some state-run place fer a while. I just remember there bein' lots of beds and not likin' havin' ta sleep in the same room with so many other boys--- Look, Doc, is this really all that important? What's stuff that happened twenty years ago gotta do with why yer keepin' me here?"
"That's what we're here to find out, Mr. Tanner. You were quite despondent in the ER -- in a way the attending physician found unusual after such an accident. He suspected suicide and called me. Since then, well, things have changed a bit, but there are still a lot of unanswered questions and I wouldn't be doing my job if I just opened that door and let you go home. It would be like the ER doctors not checking you out close enough to have found that broken arm of yours. You wouldn't have appreciated them missing that, now would you?"
"Okay, I get yer point. Vin Tanner, this is yer life. Fine." He took a deep breath, then continued: "Some kids got adopted from the state facility, but most didn't. I was part of the most." He shrugged. He'd never figured that out. Not that he'd thought about it overly much at the time. But, later, he wondered. Only the cute ones get adopted, the older kids would tell him and that he shouldn't get his hopes up. But that never meshed with other memories. He remembered being told he was cute -- and not just by his ma.
So much of his childhood didn't make sense. And he had only vague memories now, not enough to fit any real pieces together. It just all seemed like a jumble of contradictions and inconsistencies. He was cute, but never got adopted. The boys picked on him because he was cute, but the girls never took any notice of him. Cute and a dime didn't buy you shit in the world, he'd figured out, but it sure got you in a lot of unasked for trouble.
"So, um, there was foster care fer a while. Different families. Most of 'em nice. There were usually a few of us, diff'rent ages. Some families had their own kids, too. That was always weird -- the parents tried, but the kids had a hard time with us. I don't blame 'em. How can ya not be jealous of some other kid takin' up yer parents' time? Eatin' yer dessert? Playin' with yer toys? Havin' ta share yer room? Though, I don't reckon I had reasoned that out at the time."
The doctor finally interrupted with a question: "So, generally, your foster care experience was a positive one?"
Vin noted the surprise in her voice. Vin shrugged, then nodded. "Got me outta sleepin' in a room with twenty other kids. Got me meals on plates instead of trays. Gave me an idea what it might be like ta be part of a family, what that can mean ta people. I learned other stuff, too -- stuff that sort of slips by in the state facilities -- like bein' polite and respectful of other people, their property, their feelings -- ain't nothin' like bein' a permanent house guest ta instill those things. But, I reckon I also learned sometimes people do things just 'cuz they can -- good and bad. Some of those foster families did it fer the money, but most would have found a way ta do it no matter what."
"I've had other patients with similar upbringings. Some don't remember it like that. Some were abused by their foster parents. Did anything like that ever happen to you?"
Vin shook his head. "S'pose I got spanked a few times, but who didn't? Can't remember a time when I didn't deserve it, but I remember lots more times when I did deserve it and didn't get spanked."
Nope, foster care wasn't a bad place. Most times. It was the going back to the state facility that he always hated, and for one reason or another he always went back, except that last time. He'd somehow overheard the social worker and his foster parents talking. He'd heard them tell the counselor they were going to have a baby and they'd have to send one of the foster kids back. Vin knew it would be him. He was the most recent arrival. He heard them say they didn't want to, but that didn't change the fact that they were doing it anyway.
He wouldn't go back to that state facility again. He wouldn't. So, he'd left that same night, after everyone had gone to bed. There wasn't much to remember about that night, stuffing a few clothes into his backpack, then walking down the hill toward the city which spread out across the valley floor. There were so many specifics he didn't recall about his childhood, but the memory of that blanket of tiny lights was burned in his brain, as was his only thought at the time: "Somewhere out there I'm gonna spend the night."
There were no thoughts about the perils of life on the streets, about what tomorrow would bring, about food or shelter. There was just those lights and that one night -- it was the limbo between the end of one phase of his life and the beginning of another.
"Mr. Tanner?" the doctor leaned over and put a gentle hand on his arm. "I think that's enough for now. I can see that you're tired. Just rest and I'll be back later."
Vin nodded. He hadn't realized it, but he was tired. But when the doctor left the room, Vin's heart began to pound and he desperately looked about the empty room. A moment later, a nurse entered and took the seat in the corner; Vin sighed and allowed himself to relax back in the bed. She wasn't the same nurse as the night before and she sure wasn't Chris, but at least he wasn't alone. And with that conscious thought, he allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off into sleep.