Vin couldn't believe how tired he was. Tired and sore. The inside of his thighs ached and burned as he slowly made his way out of the barn and across the yard. "I'm getting old." He immediately regretted the thought, because it only served to make him feel worse.

He figured Chris, who was going to be forty-eight this year, ought to be feeling pretty damn bad as well, though the man didn't show it. They hadn't planned to ride all day; they'd planned to stop at the creek high up in the hills behind the ranch and have a leisurely swim, but the winter had been long and the still-melting snow made the water far too cold for lingering. They'd ended up stopping only long enough to eat lunch before climbing back in the saddle and jogging further east along the little used trail.

Chris was almost to the house now, just a few strides ahead, and Vin took a moment to admire his backside. Even after all these years, it was still a fine specimen and Vin had yet to tire of looking at it. As much as he'd always longed to settle down, to be loved and wanted, he never really thought it would happen. There'd been too many years of moving and moving on; too many men to even remember, night after night. They were blurs now, like headlights speeding past him as he stood by the side of the road, like sunlight seen from the depths of a lake. It hadn't been real, it couldn't have been, not when he thought about it now, but Vin knew it was and the reality of what his life had been still stung like a scratched scab — never entirely forgotten, never really healing — eventually leaving a scar that ran far deeper than a mere pink, wavering line across his skin, to be noticed at the oddest moments, a reminder of some not-quite fatal wound.

Chris was pulling his shirt off before he even stepped inside the mudroom. Vin began to undress as well and found Chris inside the house, depositing his dust-covered clothes directly into the washing machine. Naked, Chris grabbed the laundry detergent and sprinkled a scoop over the clothes just as Vin was adding his jeans and underwear.

"Shower?" Chris asked.

Vin shook his head. "You go first. I want a beer." Chris left him at the kitchen and Vin pulled a Guinness from the fridge. He deftly twisted off the top, and then leaned back against the counter as he tipped the bottle up to his lips. He could feel the chill of the liquid sliding down his throat to fill his belly. It felt refreshing and satisfying and it made Vin regret the forbidding temperature of the creek earlier that day.

Before he'd even drained half the bottle of dark, thick beer, Vin heard the distant echo of running water die; Chris was finished with his shower. Vin pushed himself away from the counters, rubbed the impression the edge had made across his bare cheeks, and then headed toward the back of the house.

He met Chris in the bedroom. His partner stood bare-chested with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was dark and stringy, still damp from the shower; he pushed the strands off his face as Vin handed him the beer.

"Thanks."

Vin then headed for the shower and Chris followed.

"What do you feel like for dinner?" Chris asked.

Vin shrugged. He was so worn out that another Guinness would probably do him just fine, but before he could utter the word 'beer', Chris offered, "Tuna casserole?"

"Sure." Vin hadn't even noticed when he'd been at the fridge, but if Chris said there were leftovers, then that was fine with him. But, he was still thinking about his beer. Vin reached for the bottle he'd given Chris, but the man pulled it away, holding it hostage until Vin leaned forward and kissed him. Chris tasted strongly of Guinness and Vin's lips lingered for a moment until his craving for the liquor waned.

Vin then turned away and stood in front of the shower. He reached in and turned on the hot water; it took only a moment before steam began to rise inside the stall. As he adjusted the cold tap and waited for the temperature to reach something acceptable, Vin felt a callused hand on his shoulder.

The hand moved up his neck, to cup the side of his head just below his right ear. Then Vin felt Chris lean in close; he pressed a kiss to Vin's opposite temple. "Have a nice shower."

Then Vin was alone.

He stepped under the water and slid the glass door closed. Then he just stood there, face to the wall and head hung, as the water poured over him, drenching his hair and rinsing away the layers of grime-infused sweat.

He was tired, and it was more than from the daylong ride; it was more than that, even if he didn't like to admit it. When had he grown so comfortable? When had he gotten so wrapped up in this job ... these people ... this life? When had he settled down, and why hadn't he noticed before ... before all of this?

Had it really been six months? In so many ways it felt unreal, like a bad dream, but he remembered it all so clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday.

He still remembered Mary, holding Chris so close, clinging to him, out of need and loneliness. Vin hadn't minded, not really; he understood that Chris was the steady core for all of them and while Orin Travis had meant a lot to each of them, he'd been like a true father to Mary after Travis's son had left her widowed, alone to raise their small son who wasn't so small any more.

Billy had stood tall and silent beside his grandfather's grave, while his mother sobbed on the shoulder of a man who would have been a good father to him. Would have been, if Chris had loved Mary and Mary had loved him, but they had never been more than close friends, despite what people thought, despite what people said, despite what Billy may have at one time hoped and Vin may have at one time feared. But Chris was there for them both that day, because their need for him had been greater than anyone else's.

And Vin understood, though he had still felt alone at the funeral — isolated, cold, and lost. He just couldn't believe Orin Travis was dead, the man who'd pushed for the formation of their ATF team, the man who went to bat for them whenever the brass riled at their sometimes unorthodox methods, the man who fought to keep them together through not one but three department restructurings.

And he'd died in his office, behind his desk, in the middle of a Funds And Allocations request for Team Seven. Died of an aneurysm, killed by a job that had become the better part of his life after his Evie had passed away several years ago. Other than Mary and Billy, the men of Team Seven were his only remaining family and friends.

And each of them, in their own way, knew it.

But on the day of the funeral, Vin had wondered if they all felt it just as he did. If they all knew that things would never be the same without A.D. Travis's unyielding encouragement and support. Team Seven, both despite of and because of their successes, had made a lot of enemies within the bureau. Orin had been their savior more than once and now he was gone.

No one had spoken of the future that day, but Vin remembered what had been said when they'd gathered at the saloon the following Friday.

"Any word on Travis's replacement?" Nathan had asked.

"Don't believe a man like that can be replaced," Ezra opinioned.

"Amen, brother," Josiah agreed before asking, "Any word, Chris?"

Chris leaned back in his chair, downing the shot of whiskey he refused to drop into his mug of beer as everyone else had. Then he nodded slowly. "They're transferring someone from the Kansas office: Assistant Director Marshall Bryce."

"Marshall?" JD asked with a sour look on his face. "Who names their kid 'Marshall'?" Buck cuffed him on the back of the head. "What?"

"That's A.D. Bryce to you, son," Buck told him.

Vin ignored their banter and shook his head. "This ain't Kansas."

"I know, but the decision isn't ours," Chris reminded them all.

"I guess we'll just have to give it some time, see how things go with Bryce," Nathan said.

"I suppose it might not turn out to be as bad as we think," Buck said, obviously trying to sound optimistic. "This Bryce might be a good man."

"God moves in mysterious ways," Josiah said. "I reckon time will tell."

But the whole thing disturbed Vin. Change had been such a constant in his life for so long, but somewhere along the way, without any conscious realization, it had become something Vin feared. Without thinking about his surroundings, about where they were or who might see them, Vin had reached over and clasped Chris's hand. At that moment, he felt like he would drown if he didn't hold on, if Chris didn't hold his head above water.

"Hey, you coming up for air anytime soon?" Chris's voice interrupted Vin's reverie.

The water was barely warm now, so Vin adjusted the temperature and then reached for the soap.

"Got an email from Buck," Chris said. The man was somewhere in the bathroom, but Vin didn't want to open his eyes long enough to find out where.

"What'd he say?"

"Him and JD finally found a new place."

"Yeah? Where?"

"Just a mile from the beach. Buck says the kid's already out pricing surfboards." Chris laughed at this, and Vin could only think that Chris was imagining JD in a wetsuit running down the beach as if he were a teenager again. "Bet he'll be handing out lessons before too long."

Vin shook his head and almost smiled. San Diego would suit those two. "Reckon we better wait a few months then before we visit; let him get good before we let him try teaching us anything."

"What 'us'? No way in hell I'm getting on a surfboard, especially not with JD calling the shots!" Chris said. He was laughing again, but Vin knew he was deadly serious. "I think me and Buck'll be just fine sitting on the beach, watching the two of you make asses of yourselves in front of all the pros."

Vin should have been laughing along with Chris, but he couldn't find the energy.

"Vin?"

There was concern in Chris's voice, so Vin changed the subject. "Buck say anything about Nettie and Casey?"

"Just that they haven't found a place yet that suits Nettie."

"I s'pose Casey'd be happy with just about anything, as long as it's close to JD and to the university."

"No doubt." Chris paused and Vin knew exactly what he was thinking. "Still can't figure out why those two haven't gotten married yet."

"Well, maybe now that Nathan's finally asked Rain that'll give 'em an idea," Vin said. He was happy for the couple, even if it was the cause of Nathan quitting. Too dangerous for a family man, Nathan had said to them, and no one had looked at Chris for a good few minutes after that assessment.

Vin finally shut off the water and Chris handed him a towel over the top of the glass. Vin gave himself a good rub before opening the door and stepping out onto the bathmat.

"Feel better?" Chris asked.

Vin nodded, though it was, at best, a half-truth.

"Come on, then. I'll go throw the casserole in the microwave."

Vin squeezed the water from his hair, and then spread the towel over the top of the shower door to dry. In the bedroom, he pulled on a clean tee-shirt and grabbed a pair of sweatpants, which he awkwardly stepped into as he made his way haltingly down the hall.

Chris was just setting the plates on the dining table when Vin arrived. Vin sat down and stared at the food for a minute. It just seemed like too much effort to pick up his fork and eat. He forced himself to take a deep breath, but it didn't help.

"Something wrong?" Chris asked.

Vin shook his head. Another lie. He willed himself to take a forkful of the casserole. It tasted good — he really hadn't realized how hungry he was — and he didn't pause from eating until he was nearly finished. Then, he took a slow pull from the new bottle of beer Chris had set out for him.

Vin then pushed the last forkful of food around his plate, suddenly more interested in the taste of the beer than the casserole. "When's Josiah gettin' back from vacation?"

Chris paused from eating. He stared off for a moment, obviously thinking. "Reckon he's got a couple weeks to go. Can't believe how much time he'd accrued."

"Nice of the bureau to let him take it all at once." Vin asked, before taking a long drink of beer.

"Yeah, they didn't have to, and I doubt they would have if he'd been assigned anywhere other than Quantico. Won't be much for him to do there until the new class of recruits arrives the beginning of next month."

"Sure seems excited about teaching, though, doesn't he?"

Chris nodded. "I've no doubt he'll impart some lasting wisdom on those greenhorns. Might even do some of them some good."

Vin could only imagine that Chris was hoping Josiah would stem the tide of assholes that seemed to be growing in the ATF ranks. He took another mouthful of beer, this time letting the liquid trickle down his throat slowly. Then he asked, "Anyone heard from Ezra?"

Chris shook his head.

All they knew was that Ezra had been transferred by special orders to the F.B.I. He'd boxed up the contents of his townhouse, placed them and his car in long-term storage, and then let Nathan drive him down to Peterson Air Force Base. What happened to him after that was anyone's guess.

"S'pose he's okay?" Vin asked.

"He's one of the most resourceful men I know. It's just...."

"What?"

"It's just that it's been years since he didn't have at least one of us watching his back."

"He'll be okay."

"Yeah. He'll be fine," they reassured each other.

"What about you? You gonna be all right?" Chris asked. "Tomorrow's the big day."

Vin nodded. Another lie? He wasn't sure. "Yeah, the big day.... It's gonna be strange not having you around...."

"Tell me about it, but I promise I'll get over to see you as often as I can."

Vin nodded, but he knew how Chris's promises and his ATF responsibilities were often in conflict. Still, even if Chris made it over just once, that would justify sticking around, Vin told himself. After all, what other options did he have? What could a man do whose primary skill set was based on consistent and deadly aim? Bounty hunting, but he'd done that, and it would only take him away from Denver, away from Chris, and that wasn't what he wanted. No, it was better to stick it out at the ATF, do whatever they asked him to do as long as they didn't transfer him away like they did JD and Josiah. The minute they did that, then, yeah, he'd quit; he'd quit so fast it would look like 'bullet time.'

"I'll be fine running the firing range," he told Chris. "'Sides, what better place for an ol' sharpshooter like me?" Vin smiled, but he didn't feel the emotion. There were just too many changes happening: all of his friends going or already gone and things changing so often down at the bureau that he hardly recognized the place or the people anymore. The one constant now was Chris and their life at the ranch. It was the one thing he still had, and the one thing he would cling to until his dying breath.

Vin reached across the table and took Chris's hand, twining his fingers with his partner's. Chris would be there for him; Chris would see him through this; Chris would keep him from drowning. He couldn't do it without Chris. He wouldn't. He didn't want to.

Chris smiled over at him, and squeezed his hand. "It'll be fine," Chris promised. "You and me. And everything'll be fine."

~ fade ~

Series Index

May 2004

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

Story inspired by the song "The Sound Of Settling" by Death Cab For Cutie.

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.