It seemed to Vin that the winters in Colorado were getting harder, longer ... more days of nothing but gray skies and icy roads, more nights of getting snowed in at Chris’s ranch up in the hills just north of Denver. Tonight was one of those nights. Worse, since the power had gone out. It left Vin alone in the dark, a place to which he’d once been accustomed, but no longer. He was growing to hate the dark, because it brought memories he desperately wanted to leave behind. But they haunted him, even now that he was with Chris.

Of course, there had been other men — too many, more than he'd like to admit: men whom Vin had believed he loved; men whom Vin believed had loved him. Men like Dun Halleran. He and Dun had been so similar, or so Vin had thought: both from working-class backgrounds, from rural areas of Texas, from broken homes; both did more physical labor than not; both enjoyed the outdoors and tried to spend as much time there as possible; and both seemed to need the other's company.

Dun had been there when Vin had been at his lowest — alone after leaving the army, alone after moving to Tascosa as a U.S. Marshall. He'd been supportive and encouraging; at least it had seemed that way at the time. Dun had been in construction and Vin remembered passing his site some days, discreetly marveling at the man's tanned, muscular form. He always wondered what Dun saw in him.

"My hair looks dumb, doesn't it?" Vin remembered asking one night in bed. His dirty-blond hair had been long in high school, before the army, and he remembered liking it that way, feeling secure with it, less exposed than with the close crop the Rangers required. Since the day it was shorn, he'd planned to have it long again at the first opportunity. "Does it look weird?" The crew cut had grown out as far as the hair-length regulations of the U.S. Marshalls allowed.

"Honestly?" Dun had asked and Vin had nodded, thinking he wanted the truth. "Kinda makes your ears look pointy."

"M-my ears? Look p-pointy?"

Dun had nodded, screwing up his face with a mixture of sympathy and revulsion. Vin's mind had gone blank for a moment. He didn't know how to react to this: how to feel or what to say to Dun. Suddenly self-conscious, he reached up to card his fingers through his hair, to try to pull the strands as best he could over his ears. Dun had turned away without another word; in fact, neither of them ever mentioned his ears again.

But still, Vin had loved Dun, maybe because Dun was able to overlook his faults, or at least to somehow tolerate them. That's what love was, or at least that's what Vin had thought. You sacrificed for the other person, you were accepting and you compromised, you gave up whatever it took to make the relationship work, to make the other person happy, to keep them interested, and to keep them wanting you. You put up with whatever you had to in order to make that happen. That's what Vin had thought and so that's what Vin had done.

When Dun had complained that he worked harder than Vin — that construction was far more tiring than standing around some musty old courtroom all day — Vin had not disagreed. Silently, he simply assumed more of the chores. And though Vin did all he could, plus all Dun didn't do, it never seemed to be enough.

One day, Vin had brought home something from the supermarket that he thought might help, even a little bit: anything to keep Dun from complaining — to keep him happy.

"Vin!" he remembered Dun calling for him. "Did you do this?" he'd asked, pointing at the toilet. Vin had nodded. He'd bought one of those tablets that you drop in the tank, that helps keep the bowl from getting dirty. "The water's blue," Dun had said. Vin wasn't sure if Dun was annoyed by this fact. "You do that on purpose?" Vin had nodded again. "'Cuz it's the same color as your eyes."

To this day, Vin didn't know why Dun had said that. Didn't know if had been meant as an insult or not. Didn't know if Dun had meant to hurt his feelings or if he had just been thoughtless.

Vin remembered that they'd fucked that night. He remembered because Dun had taken him from behind and Vin had kept his face buried in the pillow long after Dun had collapsed into sleep on top of him. Vin had fallen asleep wondering if it might be possible to be smothered to death in that position and almost hoping it was.

When Dun left for a three-month construction job in Corpus Christi, Vin hadn't been too upset. In fact, he quickly fell back into the habit of being alone again. And the day he came home from the courthouse to find a message on the answering machine from Dun saying that he'd be home at the end of the week, Vin had gone as far as cleaning, loading, and tasting his handgun.

He packed instead and left without a word as to where he was going. Dun called him at work. Called him and called him until Vin's boss threatened to fire him if he didn't take care of his personal business on his own time.

Dun had apologized again and again for whatever it was that Vin thought he'd done wrong. He begged Vin to come back, assuring him that things would change and that he'd make it up to Vin.

And he gave in eventually, because he still loved Dun, and encouraged by the man's contrition, hoped that Dun could still loved him. Vin met Dun for lunch downtown one day in a busy coffee shop not far from the courthouse. He told Dun that maybe he had made a mistake and that he wanted to try again.

He remembered Dun's reaction, remembered it as if it had happened only moments ago. The man had leaned back in the booth and stared at Vin, looking him square in the eyes. Then he spoke, words Vin would never forget, "The thing is, Vin, I just don't think I can trust you anymore. You left once. There's no reason for me to believe you won't do it again. What I'm saying is, I don't want to try again. I don't want you back." And then he walked out.

Vin remembered the waitress setting down their two plates of hamburgers and fries. He remembered her looking at him and asking if his friend was coming back. Vin had told her no, and that one word had hurt more than he'd imagined anything could.

These were the things that haunted Vin when he was alone in the dark. It didn't matter that Vin had reasoned it all out later, that he knew from a psychological perspective that for Dun it was all about power and control. Dun was not the guy who got dumped; he couldn't be that guy. He had to be the one to do the dumping, so he did whatever it took to regain the upper hand.

Vin supposed that Dun slept well at night — that night and every night after — while Vin still woke from dreams about the man, dreams in which he was helpless to leave, helpless to rid himself of Dun Halleran, a man he'd grown to hate like no other.

"Son of a bitch!"

Vin heard the exclamation a moment after he'd heard the crash and the clatter. He was off the couch in an instant and feeling his way out of the living room and down the hall. He paused long enough at the laundry room to reach inside and grab the flashlight off the shelf before continuing to the door that lead into the basement.

"Chris?" he called as he pointed the wide, bright beam down the staircase.

"Yeah. I'm here," Chris called back. Vin could tell from the annoyed tone of his voice that he wasn't seriously hurt.

As Vin made his way down, Chris warned him of the broken bottom-most step: "Damn thing nearly killed me."

Vin tried not to laugh. It wasn't funny. Chris really could have been hurt. "Uh huh. That stair's been biding its time, just waiting for the power to go out, knowing you'd have to come down here to check the fuses. Patient bastard."

"This isn't funny, Vin. I could have broken my neck."

"Oh, I know," Vin said seriously. "And I swear it wouldn't have even occurred to me to laugh if that had actually happened."

"Shut the hell up, Tanner," Chris said as he struggled to his feet.

Vin smiled as he held out a hand to his partner. Chris took it and was soon dusting himself off.

And now that he knew for certain that Chris was unhurt, Vin took a moment to be annoyed with the man. They'd known for months now that the wood was rotting; Chris had promised to replace it again and again. "Reckon I'll fix the broken tread," Vin told him.

"No, I'll get to it later."

"How about I help you?" Vin asked. "Tomorrow?"

Chris glared at him in the odd diffuse light thrown by the flashlight. "Fine. We'll do it tomorrow."

Vin smiled. No matter how mad he got at Chris, he never seemed to hold a grudge. No matter how much compromising he had to do to make this relationship work, it never seemed like he was really sacrificing anything important; in fact, the relationship didn't even feel like work, not like all the other relationships Vin had had, all the ones where he'd thought he'd been in love. They all paled in comparison to what he had with Chris, to the way Chris made him feel, to the way he suddenly knew in every nook and cranny of his soul how Chris felt about him.

He leaned in and Chris met him. Their lips touched gently at first — hesitant and tender — before parting slightly to allow tongues to caress and mingle. Vin found himself, somehow, close against Chris — arms around waists, chests and stomachs pressed together, legs and knees and feet tangled, but still managing to keep them balanced and upright.

God, I love this man, Vin thought, and he knew for the first time in his life that it was real and true.

Too soon they eased apart, breathing just a bit hard.

"So, is it a fuse?" Vin finally asked.

"No," Chris said, still sounding a bit irritated. "Power must be out in the whole area from the storm. God knows how long it'll take them to fix it."

"Could be days," Vin said in all seriousness.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Weeks, even."

"We have enough food?" Vin asked. Chris nodded. "We have enough water?" Chris nodded again. "We have enough lube?"

Chris thought for a moment, but then nodded, adding, "We can always break open the Crisco if we run short."

"Sure you're not going to get tired of day after day of nothing but gray skies?"

Chris grabbed the flashlight from Vin and pointed the beam at the ceiling, effectively illuminating the basement almost as well as any working light fixture would have. He stared long into Vin's eyes and a gentle smile graced his lips. "All I see is blue, and I'll never tire of that."

~ fade ~

Series Index

February 2005

Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.

For JensenRick, because he made a very valid point. Title inspired by the song "I'm With You" by Avril Lavigne.

As always, thanks to my beta reader for her suggestions.

Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, CBS Worldwide, Inc., or their affiliates. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play so liberally within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.