ATF Alternate Universe
JD waited in the ATF office for the others to show. He’d wished he’d been able to go to the hospital with Buck and Chris, but someone needed to let the others know what had happened and Buck said he wanted some time alone with Chris.
Josiah and Ezra were at court, waiting to testify before a Grand Jury on one of the cases they’d worked on earlier in the year. He’d tried to call the courthouse, get a message to them, but the secretary said she wouldn’t make any promises, there were several cases going on in the courts that day, with hundreds of possible witnesses around. He’d tried their cell phones, but they were apparently turned off. ‘Must have Judge Dane,’ JD mused. The woman was a stickler about phones and pagers in her court. Everybody had to check them at the door.
Nathan was out of town, taking a much-needed vacation. He’d just finished a grueling week at a Federal Tactical Medic school at Quantico and Chris let him use some of his vacation time to recover. Last they knew he and Rain were incommunicado somewhere in Mexico.
So he sat there waiting, thinking about the events. He still couldn’t believe that only an hour ago he was kneeling in front of the elevators performing mouth to mouth resuscitation on one of his best friends. Tears welled up in the young man’s eyes as the scene came into his vision again. And the note! What could Vin have written to make Chris believe that the sharpshooter would commit suicide? Vin wouldn’t do that!
Becoming restless, his hand becoming sore from pounding it on his desk, JD got up, grabbed some keys from a hook by the office door and headed for the elevators. A few minutes later, he got out of the elevator and stepped into the underground garage. As he searched for the department’s car, the ring of his cell phone startled him.
“Dunne,” he answered, walking toward the found car. “Yeah, Josiah, I called. Look, I don’t know how to explain this,” he sighed, leaning on the car. “Something happened to Vin. No, he’s not all right. They took him to the hospital about forty-five minutes ago. He overdosed on Tylenol.” JD paused then, trying to fight back the tears. He was unsuccessful though and tearfully told Josiah, “Chris thinks he tried to kill himself. I’m in the garage. Yeah, I’ll wait.”
JD slid down to sit on the concrete, leaning back on the car door. He let the tears flow, then, not caring about the people driving by, staring.
+ + + + + + +
“JD? JD?” Josiah called quietly, shaking the young man’s shoulder.
“Huh?” he finally responded, surprised that he’d been out of it long enough for Josiah to arrive. “Where’s Ezra?” he asked.
“He went to the hospital,” the big man replied. “Now why don’t you tell me what happened,” he said, squatting down in front of the young agent.
JD went on, albeit shakily, to tell Josiah of the morning’s events, up until the ambulance took Vin to the hospital.
“I just can’t believe he’d do that, Josiah,” he finished, shaking his head. “I don’t even know if he’s alive anymore.”
“Well, why don’t we call Buck and find out?” Josiah said, pulling out his cell phone.
JD listened as Josiah spoke with Buck and watched as the big man put the phone back into his pocket.
“Well?” JD asked.
“Vin’s alive, but he’s not out of the woods,” he replied, repeating Buck’s words. “Buck also said that the doctor isn’t so sure Vin overdosed on Tylenol. That there may have been something else going on.”
“Can’t they run some tests? Find out?” the younger agent asked.
“They’re doing that, son,” Josiah assured him, putting his hand on JD’s shoulder. “And Denver PD is checking things…,” he added, trailing.
JD looked up at Josiah, then, wondering what would make the man stop talking mid-sentence. He saw Josiah staring across the garage. The big man got up and started walking away. JD got up quickly and followed.
“What’s the matter? What do you see?” he asked.
“Vin’s Jeep look kinda funny to you?” Josiah asked, stopping before the beat up blue vehicle.
“Other than the fact that it’s taking up two spots and it’s barely in those?” JD replied, his own curiosity now piqued.
“Look on the floor,” the older agent said. “Looks like the missing Tylenol,” he added, pointing to a couple of dozen tablets spilled on the floor of the Jeep and the garage.
“Looks like he was in bad shape before he got here,” JD thought aloud.
“JD, go get some evidence bags and a camera,” Josiah ordered, pulling some rubber gloves from his pocket.
FIVE
“Agent Larabee?” one of the nurses called, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to move him up to a room, now,” she continued when she had the agent’s attention. “If you could wait outside while we get him ready, it would be appreciated. He’ll be going up to room 242 South,” she added, double checking the orders.
“Sure, thanks,” he agreed quietly, taking a last look before heading back to the waiting room.
Upon his arrival, Buck and Ezra met him.
“How is Mr. Tanner?” the southerner asked.
“They’re getting him ready to move up to a room now, 242 South,” he replied.
“The psych ward,” Buck said quietly.
“I know,” Chris returned, closing his eyes and sighing, jaw clenched tight.
“Surely there must be some mistake,” Ezra put in. “Mr. Tanner certainly -,”
“Mr. Tanner certainly did!” Chris interrupted angrily. “Go ahead and read it for yourself. Let everybody in on the office gossip, now!” he shouted, shoving the letter into Ezra’s chest before storming off toward the South Wing.
+ + + + + + +
A short time later, after the nursing staff finished settling the young ATF agent into his room, Chris was allowed in. The blond took a seat next to the bed and noticed the changes made. The breathing tube was out, with just a nasal cannula across the pale face, now. He was a little cleaner too, his face and hair having been washed, the dried saliva and vomit removed. He moved his gaze a little further down and noticed the straps around Vin’s wrists. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sight. ‘God!’ he swore to himself, putting his head in his hands. ‘Why?!’
A deep breath and a slight moan caught his attention, bringing his head out of his hands. Looking up, he saw Vin’s head loll to the side.
“Vin?” he called, anger put aside as he put a hand to his friend’s cheek. “Vin? Can you hear me?”
He got a pain-filled moan in response as Vin turned his head back the other way.
“Come on, Vin. Open your eyes for me,” Chris urged, gently turning Vin’s head back toward him.
The ATF leader smiled gently as blue eyes fluttered open.
“Chris?” Vin croaked, throat sore, expression confused. “Wha’ happened? Wha’s goin’ on?” he slurred.
“That’s what you need to tell me,” Chris answered. “Why’d you do it?”
“Why’d I –,” Vin began to ask, but stopped when he found he couldn’t move his arms. “Wha’s goin’ on? Why’m I tied down?” he asked, panicking.
Vin tried to sit up, to see the straps at his wrists, but was stopped by Chris’s hands on his chest.
“Vin. Calm down,” the older man ordered quietly, soothingly, trying to ignore the quickly increasing number of beeps coming from the heart monitor. “The straps are there to keep you from hurting yourself again.”
“What the hell is goin’ on, Chris!?” Vin demanded through clenched teeth, fighting the restraints, trying to stay awake. “What do you mean hurt myself again?”
Chris felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to see several of the nurses come into the room, having heard the shouting.
“Mr. Larabee, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave for a little while,” one of them said, gently pushing him toward the door.
“What the fuck is going on, Chris?!” Vin shouted. “CHRIS!! CHRIIIISSSS!”
SIX
JD watched as Josiah worked, carefully picking up all the Tylenol tablets, counting them as he placed them into an evidence bag. JD had already taken pictures of the Jeep, from all possible angles – inside and out, how it was parked, where the tablets were, what else had been thrown around inside it. He looked at the dozen or so bags of evidence, things found in and around Vin’s Jeep, scattered on the garage floor.
“What happened here, Josiah?” JD asked, leaning on a support pillar and sliding to the ground.
“I don’t know, JD,” he replied. “But we should check all the possibilities, shouldn’t we?” He paused for a moment to look at the young agent before adding, “I think Vin’s had a lot of tough times in his life. And now, I think he’s going through another one - a big one. But I don’t think Vin is the type to take his own life any more than you do, JD.”
“We done here?” JD asked suddenly.
“Yeah. Let’s get this stuff up to the lab, see if anything turns up,” Josiah said, picking up the evidence and equipment.
+ + + + + + +
Buck and Ezra found their way up to the South Wing of the hospital. They found Chris sitting on a couch in a lounge down the hall from Vin’s room.
“Won’t let you in, yet?” Buck asked.
“Kicked me out already,” Chris replied without looking at the men.
“How is he?” Ezra asked quietly, not wanting to rile up Chris again.
“Scared, confused, pissed. They’ve got him restrained,” the blond agent answered angrily. “He was struggling, trying to get out of the straps. He was shouting at me, as if it was all my fault. And it is,” he added quietly.
“Don’t you get goin’ on that road again, Chris Larabee,” Buck admonished.
“Why not, Buck?” Chris demanded. “If I had just gone ahead with the relationship without being so damned selfish, he wouldn’t be here right now!”
“You didn’t force those pills down his throat, Chris,” Ezra responded, keeping his words informal. “Vin’s the one who chose that route.”
Nothing else could be said between the three and they sat to wait for the news from the nursing staff. Waited to see their young friend again.
+ + + + + + +
Just as Josiah and JD arrived to wait, joining Chris, Buck and Ezra, the staff psychologist came out to meet the group.
“I’m Doctor Foley. I’m in charge of Agent Tanner’s case,” the woman said, introducing herself.
“Chris Larabee. I’m Vin’s supervisor,” Chris returned, standing. “These are his coworkers.”
“What’s gonna happen to him?” Buck asked.
“I understand that there is no immediate family?” the doctor asked, looking at the file in her hand.
“That’s right,” Chris answered. “Now, what’s gonna happen to him?” he repeated Buck’s question.
The woman sighed as she looked at the men surrounding her.
“Right now, I’m not sure. He’s still got some of whatever he took floating around in his system, and is therefore being affected by it. He’s not oriented, so I haven’t been able to have a good conversation with him to truly evaluate him yet,” she told them.
“So he hasn’t been able to tell you what he took or how much?” Josiah asked.
“No. He doesn’t even seem to know why he’s here,” she replied. “Whether he’s denying the act or whatever he took has affected his memory, we won’t know for a bit. Not until he becomes oriented.”
She was about to continue when a nurse handed her some paperwork, pointing to some of the contents.
“Well, we have our other drug,” the doctor remarked, looking up at the men. “Rohypnol.”
“Roofies?” Buck asked, surprised.
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “And apparently enough to OD on.”
“That would explain why he wouldn’t remember anything, too,” Chris put in.
“We may not ever get an answer from him, then,” the woman went on. “So, as for what happens next, we’ll wait until he’s gotten the drug out of his system. Then, we’ll talk to him.”
After the woman left, Josiah turned to Chris.
“I met JD at the parking garage and we decided to check out Vin’s Jeep,” Josiah began to explain. “We noticed that it wasn't parked very well - took up a couple of spaces. We found the missing Tylenol tablets scattered around, and did a full crime scene work up.”
“You think there may have been some foul play involved?” Ezra asked.
“We all know what kind of man Vin Tanner is,” Josiah began, looking directly at Chris. “Suicide is not a path he’d choose. No matter what that letter said.”
SEVEN
Vin opened and shut his eyes with a groan. The morning sun burned and all he wanted to do was shut them tight again. But something wasn’t right. The sun was on the wrong side of the room. He opened his eyes again and this time held them open as he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a hospital room, he realized. But why? A vision of Chris at his bedside came to mind, but the older man was not there now. Vin attempted to sit up, but was thwarted in his efforts by straps around his wrists. He looked down at them in confusion and fear and began to struggle with them.
“Mr. Tanner, take it easy,” a woman’s voice spoke to him from the doorway.
“Take these things off me! What am I doin’ here? Why am I bein’ restrained?” he demanded, all in the same breath.
Dr. Foley approached the young ATF agent slowly.
“I’m Doctor Foley, I’m in charge of your case, Mr. Tanner,” she said, introducing herself. “The restraints are on because we have reason to believe you tried to hurt yourself.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he asked, still struggling with the leather straps.
“Mr. Tanner, what is the last thing you remember?” she asked.
The question stopped him cold. Memories churned in his mind as he tried to recall recent events.
“Goin’ to the drug store, gettin’ some aspirin,” he said slowly, warily.
“Do you remember what brand?” Dr. Foley asked.
“Tylenol,” he replied. “Now, what’s that got to do with these restraints?” he asked, pulling at them again.
“How many did you take?” she asked, continuing on, taking notes.
“I don’t know! I had a headache, two or three,” he replied sharply. “Now what the hell is goin’ on?!”
“You don’t remember going to your office at the Federal Building?” she asked.
“I ain’t gonna answer no more questions until you tell me what the fuck is going on and untie me!” he shouted angrily at the doctor, struggling with the restraints again.
“This is what’s going on, Vin,” Chris spoke from the open doorway, holding up the letter Vin had written.
He walked into the room, ignoring the exasperated look from Dr. Foley and stood next to the bed.
“Tell me what this means, Vin,” he said quietly.
The more and more the others talked to him, reminded him what kind of man Vin Tanner was, the more Chris began to question the possibility that Vin didn't try to take his own life. But that damn letter kept coming back. ‘Maybe we’ll meet again someday, in some other life….’ That single sentence kept haunting him.
“You know what it means, Chris,” Vin replied quietly, glancing uncomfortably at the woman still sitting by the bed. “You said it yourself. It wasn’t gonna work out,” he added, returning his gaze to Chris, the hurt from the older man’s rejection still showing in his eyes.
“I know what I said, Vin,” the blond replied quietly. “And I’ve been regretting it ever since. But I still gotta know exactly what you mean by this letter.”
“I figured the least I could do was say goodbye,” he said, bitterness still in his voice.
Chris closed his eyes and sighed. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“Mr. Larabee, please,” Dr. Foley cut in. “I’d like to talk with Mr. Tanner alone.”
“Not until he gives me a straight answer,” he responded coldly. “Did you do it, Vin?” he asked.
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Vin asked, getting angry now, renewing his struggles with the straps. “And will someone please get these Goddamn straps offa me!”
“Mr. Tanner, you need to relax,” the woman tried to soothe.
“Did you or did you not try to kill yourself?!” Chris demanded, shoving Vin back down onto the bed, holding him by his upper arms.
Vin looked at the man above him, searched the intense green eyes. He saw the myriad of emotions playing in them – anger, fear, uncertainty, desperation. He wasn’t sure how to answer. His memories were so jumbled. He remembered writing the letter. He remembered sitting in his apartment, playing with his gun. Looking down its barrel. Feeling it. Tasting it. And then the images of Gina and Megan, two little girls in his building, came to mind. There were other ways to solve his problem. And then he remembered talking to Mr. Jeffers at the drugstore.
“What if I did?” he finally replied, looking up at Chris.
Chris released the sharpshooter’s arms and backed away slowly from the bed. He didn’t say a word, as he quickly made his way to the door.
“Chris?” Vin called.
But the senior ATF agent ignored the plea and headed toward the stairwell.
EIGHT
Buck saw Chris as he left Vin’s room. Something had happened. Something bad.
“Chris!” he called. “Chris!” he shouted as he entered the stairwell.
“Leave me alone, Buck,” Chris muttered, stopping to collapse onto the steps.
Buck finally reached him and sat down next to him, taking in the weary, hurt look in the man’s eyes.
“What happened, Chris?” he asked. “What’d Vin have to say?”
Chris rubbed his hands down his face and then up through his hair, sighing, before resting his head in those hands, elbows on knees.
“Come on, pard. Talk to me,” Buck implored, almost whispering.
“I asked him if he tried to kill himself,” Chris began, his voice cracking. “He said ‘what if I did?’” he continued, looking into Buck’s eyes.
Buck sat back and closed his eyes at the disclosure, letting out a long breath.
“God, Buck!” Chris swore, pounding his fist into the wall. “What the hell happened?! How can the most rock steady person you know go and try to kill himself? What am I gonna do, knowing that it was because I said no, he broke? How am I gonna be able to look at him? Hell, I ain’t gonna have to worry about that - once Personnel finds out he tried to off himself, he’s out of a job!”
He looked at his old friend, but Buck had no answers for him.
“I don’t know, Chris,” the mustached man finally spoke. “I don’t know.”
+ + + + + + +
“Mr. Tanner, please,” Dr. Foley spoke softly. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling with the restraints.”
“Then get them the hell off me,” he growled back.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that if you’re going to continue like this,” she replied. “Now, let’s calm down and try to have a nice conversation -,”
“A nice conversation?!” he balked. “I just told the man I love I tried to kill myself! And what did he do? He walked out! It’s no wonder I did it! Couldn’t handle a commitment, now he can’t handle the fact that… shit!!” he swore, slamming his head back onto the pillow. “How the hell did I get here, anyhow? What’d I do, jump in front of a bus? My legs and ribs are killin’ me,” he muttered.
“You overdosed,” Dr. Foley replied, flipping open the file folder she held. “Your legs are bruised from being stuck between the elevator doors where you collapsed. Your ribs hurt because the paramedics had to perform CPR on you enroute to the hospital,” she read.
“Almost did it, then, huh,” he remarked, shaking his head. “So, I OD’d on Tylenol,” he added.
“Actually, no,” the woman countered. “On Rohypnol,” she told him, looking for some kind of recognition or reaction.
“Roofies?” he questioned. “Makes sense. Easy to get a hold of…obviously the memory wiping worked,” he thought aloud.
Dr. Foley was not happy with the remarks. Deep down, she was hoping for some kind of denial.
“So what happens next?” Vin asked, swallowing. “And how do I go about gettin’ these things off?”
“What happens next, is that you and I, and maybe another counselor will talk together,” she answered. “We’ll find out exactly why you did what you did and discuss ways to keep you from trying again. As for how to get the restraints off -,”
“Let me guess,” Vin cut in. “Be a good boy and promise not to hurt myself, right?”
“Something like that,” she smiled.
+ + + + + + +
“What am I gonna do, Buck?” Chris asked. “I still love ‘im. But I am just so damn angry with him! How could he do that? How could he just throw his life away like that? Could he have been so mad at me that he’d want me to lose yet another person in my life?”
“Chris,” Buck began. “I don’t think he did it to hurt you - or any of us, for that matter. I think he was hurt and confused and didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he’s one for talkin’ about his problems. And this one in particular ain’t one he could have talked to just anybody about, either,” he continued. “But right now, he’s gonna get some help, whether he wants it or not. And you can either be there for him… Or not.”
Chris looked at his old friend, thought about the words they’d said and thought about the man strapped to a bed upstairs. ‘What if I did?’ echoed in his mind. He closed his eyes and put his head back into his hands and sighed.