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Tired |
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January 11, 2002
Disclaimer - yeah, right.
I’m tired, Chris.I’m so fuckin’ tired.
I can’t take no more.
Can’t work with ya no more. Can’t be your best friend no more. Fuck... I need another beer. Put whatever kinda misconduct letters in my file you got to, Chris. I don’t give a shit any more.
I was everybody’s best friend. Everybody’s favorite coworker... Then I was everybody’s fuckbuddy. Well let me tell you somethin’, Chris. Not gonna happen this time. I ain’t gonna do it. No.
I quit, Chris.
Because I’m just so fuckin’ tired of it all.
Shit... Sorry about the blood. But I’m too fuckin’ tired and it’s too damn late.
Chris turned off his cell phone and hung his head. How many times had he listened to that message? That...note? Too many times. Not enough times.
Chris’s mind warred within itself, fighting the facts before him. Vin was the most capable, strong, stable person he knew. Or if he needed help, he’d never had a problem asking for it. But the evidence on a small cassette tape, sitting in a machine in his house and what he’d found in Vin’s apartment... he couldn’t dismiss them. He turned on the phone and dialed his answering machine again, punching in the codes to access the messages, to listen to Vin’s, hoping to find some inconsistency, some sign of duress beyond the drunkenness, some proof that it wasn’t Vin’s voice, Vin’s words, that he heard.
I’m tired, Chris.I’m so fuckin’ tired...
Friday, 9:00 PM
“Vin? You in there? Vin?” Chris shouted and pounded on the door again. “Come on, pard’, open up!” He pounded on the door some more.Finally, Chris took out his keys and rifled through them, looking for the one Vin had given to him, long ago. “In case of an emergency,” he’d said. Well, after listening to the message Vin left on his answering machine, he was more than sure this counted as an emergency.
“Vin!!” he cried out, barely able to stay standing, seeing his best friend lying in a pool of his own blood.
After a moment’s hesitation, he rushed to Vin’s side and reached for his throat, praying he’d find a pulse. And after a frantic few seconds, he finally felt a weak beat and sighed in relief. Knowing that time was of the essence, Chris ran to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of towels. Back at Vin’s side, he swallowed and shook his head in disbelief as he wrapped and tied the towels tightly around Vin’s wrist, hoping to stop the bleeding.
Satisfied for the moment that he’d done all he could, he reached for his cell phone and dialed 911. It was only after he turned off his phone, knowing that help would be on the way, that he saw Vin’s blood covered cordless on the floor, sitting next to the empty bottles of beer and pills.
“Oh, God, Vin,” he whispered and gathered the younger man into his arms, holding him tightly, protectively, lovingly. But too late.
Six days ago.
“Vin? You sure you’re going to be able to do this?”“Of course, Chris,” Vin replied quickly, shoving the papers Chris had handed to him into his desk. “Just another firearms course. I can teach ‘em with my eyes closed.”
“Vin, you’ve only been back on full duty for a week, can you handle this?”
“It was only a pulled shoulder muscle, Chris. Christ, I done it in Defensive Tactics class. It wasn’t like I got shot or nothin’. And besides, I ain’t the one that’s gonna be doin’ all the shootin’. I’ll be fine,” Vin replied. “Piece of cake,” he added.
Friday, 10:30 PM
“Chris? Chris, you with me?”Chris lifted his head up and looked at Buck, who was sitting on the couch next to him.
“Yeah, Buck, I’m here,” he replied tiredly.
“What happened? Is Vin okay?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Chris whispered and leaned his head back against the couch.
“Gotcha some clean clothes, like ya asked,” Buck said, offering Chris the plastic grocery bag he brought with him. But Chris did not even look. “Chris? Talk to me, buddy. You’re scarin’ ol’ Buck here.”
“You want scary, Buck?” Chris asked, sitting up again. “I’ll give you scary.” That said, he took out his cell phone and punched in the codes for his answering machine and handed the phone to Buck. “Listen to that and tell me if it scares you, ‘cause it sure as hell scares the shit outta me, Buck.”
He watched intently as his old friend listened to the recorded message; saw the pain fill Buck’s eyes and face before Buck turned the phone off.
Buck took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking at Chris again.
“And you found him.”
“He slashed his fucking wrist, Buck,” Chris ground out. “Booze and pills weren’t enough; he had to go and slash his fucking wrist! Why didn’t I see this coming, Buck? What the hell was I missing? What the hell would make him do this?”
Before Buck had a chance to respond, Chris rose up from the couch and bolted across the room, heading for the emergency room entrance.
“Chris!” he called, chasing after him.
Just as Buck caught up with Chris, a doctor exited the emergency room, halting Chris’s progress.
“You here for Vin Tanner?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Buck replied. “How is he?”
“I’m afraid he’s not too good right now.”
Four days ago.
Vin walked into the small classroom carrying his briefcase. He was well prepared for the basic firearms course he was to teach - despite the short notice. Vin had gotten a phone call from the Denver PD academy only days before, asking him to co-teach with fellow ATF agent and firearms instructor Karen Henderson, because the DPD’s instructors had both fallen ill with food poisoning.He nodded to Karen as he put his briefcase down onto the desk and greeted the students in the room.
“Good morning,” he began. “I’m Agent Vin Tanner of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms and this is Agent Karen Henderson, also of the ATF. We will be your instructors for your basic firearms course.”
Karen began handing out some papers to the class as Vin spoke.
“Agent Henderson is handing out a list of the safety rules we will be following during our class and also the class attendance roster. I’d like you all to read and sign both as they get to you.”
While Karen was doing so and while the class began to read over some of the material, Vin began scanning the room, taking a look at the dozen or so recruits. He stopped when he got to the third row and met gazes with one of the men. He tried not to flinch when the man continued to stare at him.
Friday, 10:35 PM
“What do you mean, ‘not too good,’ doc?” Buck asked.“His vital signs have been severely compromised,” the doctor began. “Between the blood loss and the alcohol and narcotic overdose, most of his systems had begun to shut down.” When he saw that he still had Chris and Buck’s attention, he continued. “Your friend seemed quite intent on finishing the job.”
“He didn’t do it!” Buck exclaimed. “He wouldn’t...”
“Sir...” the doctor spoke up.
“How the hell do you know, Buck?” Chris asked, ignoring the doctor. “How well do we know one another? You heard the message he left me.”
“Gentlemen?” the doctor spoke up again, hoping to calm the two men down.
“All I’m sayin’, Chris, is that, shit... if Vin was gonna...IF,” he repeated when Chris was about to interrupt, “IF Vin was gonna do it, he’d have done it a whole lot quicker and neater. He’s got a fuckin’ arsenal in that apartment of his, Chris. Why the hell would he need booze, pills and a knife?”
+ + + + + + +
“Ten minute break, everyone,” Karen announced, and quickly made room for the recruits to exit the classroom. “I’m gonna grab a coffee, Vin, you want anything?” she asked, when she saw that Vin wasn’t leaving, too.
“Nah, thanks,” he replied, putting some of his notes away and grabbing the next set of handouts from his briefcase.
As he counted them to make sure he had enough for everyone in the class, he was not surprised when one of the recruits came back early. He took a deep breath before looking up to meet the man’s gaze.
“Miss me, Vin?” he asked.
“No, Tim, can’t say that I have,” he replied. “Surprised to see you here, though.”
“Didn’t think I’d pass the entrance exam?”
“Didn’t think you’d pass the background check.”
Tim’s eyes showed the anger at Vin’s remark, but Vin remained seated at the desk and refused to be riled by him.
“So, you gonna flunk me?”
“Not unless you deserve it,” Vin replied. “You know me, I don’t hold grudges. What’s past is past.”
“We’ll see,” Tim got in just before some of the other recruits returned to the classroom.
Friday, 10:38 PM
“How the hell can you say that, Buck?!”Chris and Buck turned to see JD standing behind them, outraged at Buck’s words.
“How the hell can you say that?” he repeated.
“I can say that, because I’ve been here before, JD,” Buck answered flatly, meeting the younger man’s expression with sadness. “If someone really wants to kill himself, and he knows how to do it right, he’ll be in the morgue, not the emergency room.”
He hated being so blunt with JD, but sometimes it had to be done. And as he looked at Chris, he realized that though Chris knew the truth of it, he had needed to hear it, too.
“You can still say that, despite what you heard, what I told you?” Chris asked.
“I know Vin,” Buck replied.
“Gentlemen?” the doctor spoke up again. “Are you finished?” he asked. Seeing that he had their attention, he continued, “Mr. Tanner is headed up to surgery right now. We’ve called in a vascular surgeon to repair the blood vessels in his wrist. Afterwards, he’ll be sent up to ICU. I’ve also notified the resident psychologist.”
“Doc? Didn’t you just hear what I said?” Buck asked. “‘Cause I’ll tell you, too. Vin didn’t try to kill himself.”
“I’ll keep that under advisement,” was all the doctor said before returning to the ER.
Three days ago.
“Carver! Get your ears on!” Karen shouted. “Eyes and ears are to be in place before any shooting begins! That includes those of you not shooting!” When she saw that all the recruits had listened to her orders, she continued. “Eyes and ears finally in place! Ready on the left! Ready on the right! Ready on the firing line! Fire!”The sound of gunfire filled the air on the outdoor range, causing a flock of birds to scatter from the trees. Vin and Karen carefully watched each recruit as they shot, and made notes on their clipboards about each one as they dispensed helpful hints to those that needed them. After the round of fire stopped, they had the next group step up to the ten-yard line.
Vin watched as Tim Carver positioned himself on the line. He’d told Karen that Carver was an old acquaintance of his and asked that she do most of his evaluating, so there would be no question of objectivity. Unfortunately, he still had to deal with him every now and then. Like now.
Karen was helping one of the recruits with his grip when Tim raised his hand. Unable to ignore him, Vin went and asked what he needed.
“I think you know, Vin,” Tim whispered.
“Unless you’ve got a question related to class, there is to be quiet on the firing line,” Vin said, loud enough for the others to hear, as he walked away.
Throughout the day, Tim kept it up, asking for Vin’s attention when Karen was busy with someone else, only to whisper his taunts to Vin. Finally, at the end of the day, Vin cornered Tim and pushed him against the wall.
“Enough of the crap, Tim,” he ground out. “Just tell me what you really want.”
“I told you. A passing mark,” Tim replied easily, fingering Vin’s uniform shirt. “You’ve seen me shoot.”
“You’ll get whatever you deserve, Carver. Whether you improve enough to pass, or don’t and fail.”
“Even if it means outing you?” Carver asked. “I can do that, you know. I’ve still got those pictures. Remember them?”
Vin abruptly let go of the man, then, stepping back away from him.
“You do remember them, don’t you?”
Yes, Vin did. “You son of a bitch,” he growled.
“Now, I know it would be quite presumptuous of me to ask for perfect scores, but somewhere in the high eighties or low nineties would do nicely,” Carver went on casually.
Friday, 11:50 PM
Chris sat on the cold plastic chair next to the bed. Through the raised bed rails he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Vin’s chest. That and the quiet beeping from the heart monitor seemed to be the only way to tell that Vin was alive under all the tubes, wires and bandages.His gaze kept returning to Vin’s right wrist. Bandaged and splinted in place after the vascular surgeon pieced back the damaged blood vessels, it lay propped up on a pillow, as if presented for all to see.
“Why, Vin? What the hell happened?”
Two days ago.
“So, who should I send those pictures to, Vin?”“Don’t need to do nothin’, Carver, you’re passin’ the course all on your own. Got yourself an eighty during the last timed shoot.”
“Ah, but you forget, I wanted something in the high eighties, Vin,” Carver replied. “Wait! I know, how about Larabee? Last I knew, he was still quite the straight man, wasn’t he, Vin?”
“You fuckin’ leave Chris outta this, Carver,” Vin said in a low, but angry voice. “This is between you and me.”
Carver just smiled at Vin and took his place on the firing line.
Friday, 11:50 PM
“What’s gonna happen next, Buck?” JD asked.“What do you mean, JD?”
“Just that. What’s gonna happen to Vin? They gonna put him in the psych ward or something?”
“No, JD, they’re not,” Buck replied, somewhat harshly, and immediately regretting it. “Besides, they can’t do anything until he gets outta the ICU,” he added more softly.
JD followed Buck’s gaze through the windows of the ward toward the far cubicle. They were just able to make out the outline of Chris’s body as he sat watching over Vin.
One day ago.
He wished he had legitimate, obvious grounds for kicking the man out of class. He wished he’d disobeyed the safety rules. Or scored so badly that it would be obvious to everyone in the class that he’d fail. Hell, he wished the man were openly obnoxious to everyone, not just him. But Tim Carver was a charmer. He was everyone’s favorite guy, the recruit class’s squad leader, the class clown... Everybody loved Tim Carver. Except, Vin Tanner. And there was no way in hell he could tell anyone why.“So, whatcha thinkin’ on, teach?” Carver asked, approaching the picnic table where Vin was sitting.
“Wondering how a bastard like you gets away with the shit you do,” Vin replied coldly.
“I think you know, Vin. Nothing’s changed in the past six years, well, except for locations. Colorado’s a bit colder than Texas, huh?”
“Maybe ‘cause you’re livin’ here.”
Saturday, 12:04 AM
“It’s midnight, Chris. Why don’t you go home?”“Because I want to be here when he wakes up,” he replied softly, before adding, “I want to be the first one to ask him what the hell was going through his fucking head tonight,” angrily, tiredly.
Buck sighed and tipped his head back so it touched the wall behind the couch.
“I’ve been tryin’ to call Karen,” he said. “Left a few messages on her answering machine to give me a call.”
“Like she’s gonna call you?” Chris asked, incredulous. “I heard she slapped you last time you requalified at the range.”
Buck smiled and nodded his head as he replied, “Yeah, she slapped me, alright, but it was on the ass!”
Chris shook his head and smiled at his old friend. Only Buck could make him laugh at a time like this.
“Anyway, I figured I’d see if she’d be able to tell us if anything was up with Vin today,” Buck went on. “See if anything happened in class.”
Chris took a quick look at his watch and stood up. “Time to go back in,” he said and walked toward the nurse’s station. “Let me know if Karen calls.”
Friday, 12:50 AM
“Vin? What happened to Carver?” Karen asked, looking over the score sheets for the class. “He’d been scoring in the high eighties, sometimes nineties for the past two days and then, today, for the final two qualifying rounds, he dropped down to eighty and eighty-four.” She handed Vin Carver’s score sheet.“Don’t know,” Vin replied quickly, putting the sheet back on the pile without even looking at it. “Spent the morning concentratin’ on Watkins, tryin’ to get his score up high enough to pass.”
He didn’t want to get into it with Karen. He didn’t want to think about why Carver would purposely lower his scores; he already knew the answer. Carver lowering his score would force him into making a decision. To give Carver scores he didn’t deserve and save his reputation or leave the scores alone and ruin his career.
“Yeah, I see that he just eked by,” Karen remarked, looking at Watkins’ score. “All he needs is a little more time on the range, I think, and he’ll get better,” she added.
“Holds true for most of ‘em.”
“Would you mind dropping off the paperwork at the Academy?” Karen asked. “It’s on your way home,” she added, hopeful.
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied, tiredly. “Besides, I know you got a weekend getaway planned. Get outta here, get a head start and beat the traffic.”
“Thanks, Vin, you’re a sweetheart,” she said with a wink as she gathered up her things.
Only after Karen had gone did Vin pick up Carver’s score sheet. He looked at the lower scores. Thought about changing them. Karen would never know. Nobody would. Except him. And Carver.
Saturday, 1:13 AM
Buck walked around the messy apartment. He’d taken the spare key from Chris’s key ring, needing to see for himself what Chris had seen. To prove to himself, and to Chris, that Vin couldn’t have, wouldn’t have, attempted to take his own life.He saw what was left from the paramedics’ visit. Paper and plastic wrappers, plastic needle covers, latex gloves, tape; furniture moved this way and that... It wasn’t hard to tell where Vin had been when Chris found him, though. The dark stain on the carpet in front of the couch was hard to miss.
He saw the empty beer bottles strewn about the living room. Chris said he’d found Vin’s bottle of pain prescription pills on the floor as well, but that the paramedics took it with them to the hospital.
He felt a small twinge of guilt as he recalled the reason Vin needed them. He and Vin had been partnered off in their yearly Defensive Tactics course and they’d gotten a little too rambunctious while fooling around during the speed-cuffing segment. He’d wound up pulling Vin’s arm a little too far back and Vin had struggled a little too hard and the next thing they knew, Vin was writhing on the floor in pain.
“It’s not your fault, Buck,” JD called from the doorway. He smiled when Buck looked up at him. He’d seen Buck’s guilty look too often to not know when his friend was in that mood.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you had nothing to do with this.”
“I was just thinkin’ about them pain pills,” Buck responded.
“Well, stop,” JD ordered. “And start thinking of something else. Like what the hell happened here,” he added.
Buck nodded and continued his search for clues in the living room. JD pointed to the rear of the apartment, signaling his intention to search there, before heading that way.
Less than a minute later, JD was calling for Buck.
“Buck! Come on back here!”
Buck found JD in the bathroom, carefully avoiding the broken glass on the floor and sink.
“Looks like he punched the mirror,” JD said. “There’s some blood in the sink.”
“Then that explains where this came from,” Buck added, carefully holding up a shard of bloodied, mirrored glass he’d found in the living room.
Friday, 6:15 PM
“Goddamn it!” Vin shouted, punctuating his curse by throwing the beer bottle against the kitchen wall.He rummaged clumsily through his refrigerator, knocking condiments, fruit, vegetables and leftovers out onto the floor before finding the six-pack. He quickly opened one of the bottles, not caring where the bottle cap landed. He guzzled down about half the bottle before the conversation echoed in his head again. Carver.
“Hey, Vin, ol’ buddy!”“You passed the course, Carver. What do you want?”
“You know what I wanted, Tanner.”
“You got what you deserved.”
“Then I guess you’ll get what you deserve. Larabee should be finding that package on his doorstep as soon as he gets home tonight. In about, what, fifteen minutes or so?”
“I told you to leave him out of this, Carver!”
“And I told you to boost my scores.”
Vin sagged and leaned back against the kitchen countertop, and before he could do anything about it, slipped on the messy floor. He reached out blindly to stop his fall, but only strained his still sore shoulder on the way down. He let loose another string of curses as he hit the floor, landing on his bottom.
Closing his eyes and counting to ten, he thought about his options. Still holding his half finished beer, he brought it to his lips and emptied it. Leaning back against the lower cabinets, he reached for another.
Saturday, 2:08 AM
“Buck? What time is it?”“About two in the morning. How is he?”
Chris rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Buck had found him asleep on the couch in the ICU waiting room.
“Still no change. Where’ve you been?”
“JD and I went to Vin’s apartment,” he replied, somewhat warily.
“Had to see for yourself?”
Buck looked at Chris, but instead of the anger he’d expected to see, he only saw a tired sadness in Chris’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Buck agreed.
“Find anything?” Chris asked.
“Just a big mess. And what he cut his wrist with.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. He’d been in such shock at finding Vin and then so engrossed in caring for him until the paramedics came, that he hadn’t even thought to look for the knife. He was surprised when Buck pulled out an evidence bag with a piece of broken glass in it.
“The bathroom mirror was smashed,” Buck said, responding to Chris’s silent query. “But I found this piece in the living room, next to the couch.”
Chris nodded and then pointed to some other items Buck had with him, questioning him with his eyes.
“I figured, while I was collectin’ evidence, I might as well stop by your place and get the tape from your machine.”
Chris stood quickly, suddenly not liking where Buck was heading, not liking that he couldn’t just hide this evidence anymore. Or deny it. “You’re just digging a bigger hole for him, Buck, we don’t need to put this into evidence. We can’t make a case out of this. He’ll lose his job!” Chris argued, not understanding why Buck would want to do this.
“I still don’t believe he did this to himself, Chris,” he argued back. “What if someone else did this? What if someone forced him to take the pills? What if someone else cut him just to make it look like suicide? Remember what I said before about Vin.”
Chris closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. “Did you see any sign of a struggle, Buck?”
“The place was a mess. The bathroom mirror was smashed...”
“Okay, then. Answer me this: just how the hell do you force someone to drink two or three six-packs of beer? That’s why the place was a mess! Shit, have you ever known anyone to force Vin into anything? Besides me.”
Buck looked back at Chris and realized that he couldn’t argue with that logic. But he still refused to believe Vin did any of this on purpose - not with the intent to kill himself, anyway.
Chris saw the determination in Buck’s eyes and was just too tired to argue at this point. Letting out a sigh, he opened his eyes and looked again at what Buck had brought.
“Okay, so you’ve got the broken mirror and the tape,” he said, relenting. “What’s in the envelope?”
“Oh, that? Don’t know. Found it on your doorstep, addressed to you,” Buck replied.
“I would hope it would be addressed to me, if you found it on my doorstep,” Chris said, reaching for the large manila envelope.
Buck watched with anticipation as Chris first inspected the mysterious envelope and then opened it. He couldn’t reach for it fast enough though, when Chris paled and lost his grip on the contents.
Friday, 7:23 PM
“Shit...dammit...fuck!” Vin swore, muttered, cursed. He grabbed his shoulder and rubbed it as he tried to climb to his feet once again. “Beer ain’t doin’ shit for the pain,” he thought aloud. And not just the physical pain, he realized.He staggered toward the rear of the apartment, into the bathroom. He didn’t bother to look into the mirror. He didn’t want to see what he looked like. What he’d been brought to. He opened the cabinet door and reached for the pain pills that had been prescribed for his shoulder.
“Goddamn childproof caps!” he shouted, banging the bottle uselessly on the sink after he couldn’t manage to open the bottle per the directions. After a few more unsuccessful tries, he stopped to take a breath. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror then. He definitely did not like what he saw. Before he knew what he was doing, his right hand, holding the prescription bottle, flew toward the mirror and crashed through it, smashing it to pieces.
Shocked at first, Vin stepped back and looked at the damage he’d done. He tilted his head and turned his hand over, looking curiously at the sight before him. His hand and wrist were covered with blood and glass pieces, glinting in the light. But the only thing that really mattered to Vin was that the pill bottle was now open. He downed a few of the pills with the beer that he’d brought with him before heading to the living room.
Saturday, 2:12 AM
“Oh, shit, is that Vin?” Buck asked, looking at the top photo.“Unless he’s got a twin brother,” Chris muttered, angrily getting to his feet.
“Maybe he was on an undercover assignment?” Buck asked, hope in his voice. He shuffled the photos and saw a different one. “No. Not an undercover assignment,” he whispered, losing that hope.
“He knew I’d be getting these,” Chris ground out as he paced the floor. “That’s why he did it.”
“I can’t believe... Vin?”
“Why the hell couldn’t he tell us?!” Chris practically shouted. “We’re his best friends, for God’s sake! I can’t believe he couldn’t trust us!”
“I can’t believe he’d think... that we’d...you’d...” Buck was at a loss for words.
“Hell, if we’re supposed to be his best friends, how come we didn’t notice?! How come we couldn’t figure it out?”
“Chris, this ain’t somethin’ you just go and tell anybody about,” Buck tried to inject, hoping to calm Chris down.
“But we’re not just anybody, Buck! We’re his friends! His teammates!”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell us. Because we are his friends and teammates, Chris.”
“What, you think he was trying to protect us? From what? Him?”
“Maybe from whoever sent you these pictures,” Buck replied.
“Oh, and killing himself is supposed to protect us?”
“Well, judging by the way you’re acting, I can understand-”
“What? He could have told us!”
“Shit, Chris. How should Vin know how we would handle this? It’s not like we bring up homosexual sex as a topic of conversation around the office, you know. If anything, we’re like any other bunch of guys - if we talk about sex, we talk about women and sex. Remember what happened to Zach Lyons when he came out?”
Chris ran his fingers through his hair at the memory and sighed. “Yeah, I remember. Didn’t matter that he was a fifteen-plus year decorated veteran. Once DPD found out, he was practically blackballed from the department.”
“They put him on the desk for the last couple of years, until he had enough time to retire,” Buck corrected. “Think about what would happen to Vin around here, Chris.”
Chris did for a moment before asking, “So. Do you still think Vin didn’t do this on purpose?” while forcing Buck to meet his gaze.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
Friday, 8:02 PM
Vin sat on the floor in front of his couch. Looking around, he’d realized that he’d drunk all the beer within reach. He’d tried to get up to get more, but it was no use. Between the numbness in his body caused by the alcohol and painkillers and the pure lack of any more motivation, all he could do was slump back against the couch. Even the bottle of pain pills was out of reach. He cursed again at the state he was in. “Ain’t good for nothin’ no more. Fuck.” Looking around, he spied the cordless phone on the coffee table and reached for it. “Better least tell Chris ‘m quittin’. Owe ‘im that much.” As he grabbed the phone and hit the speed dial, something caught his eye. He looked blearily at his right wrist, noticed a shard of the mirror he’d somehow missed when he removed a few of them earlier. He pushed on the piece of glass and was surprised that it hadn’t hurt to move it. He thought about how it would be so easy to just move it this way or that, end things right there. End his misery. End the constant worry. The fear. Hell, your life’s over as it is, Tanner. Chris is sure to have gotten those pictures by now. Hell, he should have been here already, knockin’ on the fuckin’ door, demandin’ to know why I didn’t tell him he had a butt fucker on his team. The thought of Chris finally finding out, though, was almost a relief, Vin realized. No more hiding, no more denying, no more dishonesty. And he was tired of all that. Tired of the hiding, the denying, the dishonesty. Maybe this is all for the better. Yeah. Come clean. Then the shard moved to the right and the blood was everywhere. And Chris’s answering machine beeped.“I’m tired, Chris. I’m so fuckin’ tired...”
Saturday, 2:30 AM
The two men decided that while they couldn’t immediately help Vin, physically or emotionally, they could try to find out who was behind the apparent blackmail scheme that caused his condition. As much as they hated to, they forced themselves to look at the incriminating photos.“So, we gotta figure that these were taken more than two years ago, just by lookin’ at his hair,” Buck said, pointing to one of the pictures. “He’s had it long for as long as we’ve known him,” he added.
“Which means that whoever sent these probably knew Vin from his Marshal days,” Chris put in.
“Yeah, but who?”
“Obviously not the other man in the pictures, he’d be incriminating himself, as well,” Chris reasoned.
“I don’t recognize the location,” Buck began, “And you know I’ve seen the inside of most of the motels around here.” He ignored Chris’s headshake at that remark. “Think it was when he was in Texas?”
“That’s where the photos may have been taken, but whoever sent them is here in Denver,” Chris replied. “There’s no postage or anything on that envelope. It was hand delivered.”
“You want me to tag it as evidence and have it processed for prints?” Buck asked. “Or are we going to do this off the books? Because you gotta know Chris, I ain’t gonna let this go. On or off the books makes no difference to me, as long as we get the bastard that did this to Vin.”
Chris thought about it for a few minutes. Buck was right. Something had to be done to whomever had sent those photos. But Vin was already in a jam, as far as the job went.
“Okay, it’s already too late to keep all of this under our hats. There’s already DPD involvement in the nine one one call I placed and all the medical records here,” Chris began as he stood and paced again. “But you and me are the only ones that know about these,” he said, pointing to the envelope.
“Well, JD does too, sorta.”
“JD knows?!” Chris asked, his anger rising.
“He knows I picked up the envelope at your house,” Buck backpedaled. “But for all he knows, that could be your latest sweepstakes entry from Ed McMahon.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. He drove, I held onto it.”
“Okay. You get it processed - off the books. Run any prints you find through criminal and law enforcement records,” Chris ordered.
“I’m on it. Got a friend down in ID that owes me a few favors,” Buck replied. “See, I got him this date with Marjorie-”
Chris held up his hand, stopping Buck mid-sentence. “I don’t want to know, Buck. Too much information and all.”
Buck smiled and nodded his head before turning to head for the elevator. Chris stopped him with a hand to his arm.
“What else does JD know?” Chris asked. “He think Vin did this on purpose, now? After seeing the apartment?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Buck replied. “I think he thinks something probably upset Vin, enough to get drunk and stupid, but I think he believes it was all accidental.”
“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”
“Sure thing. I’ll check in with you later, okay?” he said when Chris released him. “Keep in touch.”
“I will.”
Saturday, 6:30 AM
“How is he?” Chris asked the doctor as he entered the waiting room.“Much improved,” the man replied with a smile. “His vital signs are up and holding their own and it looks like he’s showing some signs of coming around, too. We’ll probably be moving him out of ICU and over to the south wing.”
“So I’ll be able to talk to him soon? I need to talk to him.”
“I’d like the psychologist on call to talk to him, first,” the doctor cut in. “I think it would be best.”
Chris was going to argue, but felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. He looked back to see Buck. After a few moments, he nodded his head and sighed in resignation. “Whatever you think is best,” he told the doctor.
“I also think that it’s best that you two go home and rest. You won’t be able to see him until after Dr. Freeberg sees him and that won’t be until later this morning,” the doctor told them. “Come back later this afternoon, maybe.”
Saturday, 10:13 AM
Vin knew the hangover was a bad one. If it was too bright and too noisy and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, much less even moved or opened his eyes, then he knew he was in for a doozy. But the pain in his head was getting to be unbearable. “Aspirin,” he told himself and made the effort to get up. And making the effort was as far as he got as his headache flared, his weakness made itself known and nausea entered the picture as well. “Fuck.” Taking a few measured breaths as he settled back into his bed, he became aware of something else. Forcing his eyes to open, he looked around and realized what else was wrong with his morning. “Fuck.”“Disappointed?”
He painfully turned his gaze to his left and set his eyes upon the man sitting at his bedside. “What?”
“I asked if you were disappointed,” the man said.
Vin stared at the stranger for a moment before replying, “Can’t say if I’m disappointed or not. Don’t know if I shoulda been expectin’ somethin’ better.” He tried to shift a little bit to get more comfortable but only worsened the pounding in his head. “Fuck.”
“Didn’t you think it would be this painful?”
Vin stopped and stared at the man for a moment. “Who the fuck are you, anyways?”
“I’m Dr. Matt Freeberg. I’m one of the psychologists on staff here at Denver General,” he replied.
Vin was about to question the man as to why he was at his bedside, when he finally realized that he couldn’t move his right arm. Looking down at it, sudden memories of Friday night in his apartment came to mind. “Fuck.”
“So answer my question, Vin,” Freeberg spoke up. “Are you disappointed?”
Vin thought about it for a minute before returning his gaze to the psychologist. “That’s a loaded question, Doc,” he said with a sigh. “And I’m a little too hung over to figure out how to unload it right now. Why don’tcha come back later, when I’m sober,” he added before closing his eyes again.
Freeberg just nodded his head and smiled before leaving the room.
Saturday, 12:24 PM
Chris knocked on the open office door as he entered, gaining the attention of the man at the desk.“Yes? Can I help you?” Dr. Freeberg responded, standing up.
“My name is Chris Larabee,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m a friend of Vin Tanner’s,” he added for clarification.
“Ah, Mr. Larabee, I’m sorry, but I can’t -”
“I know you can’t tell me anything about Vin’s case,” Chris interrupted. “But I can tell you about Vin. And I can tell you that if...if... Vin did try to kill himself, then he had a damn good reason.”
Freeberg looked at the formidable man before him. He wasn’t going to be able to just shush him out of his office. And judging from the short conversation he had with Vin Tanner just two hours ago, he didn’t think he wanted to, either.
“Sit down, Mr. Larabee,” he said, offering him a seat. “And tell me a little about Vin Tanner.”
Saturday, 3:00 PM
Vin hit the remote on the bed to raise his head. The nurse had just left after checking him out. She smiled nice and treated him fairly and talked about the weather. But he felt the uneasiness in her. He knew what she was really thinking. What she really thought. Law enforcement officers were the same way. There were some that really felt badly and tried to help out the ones that tried. And there were some that felt that if somebody really wanted to off himself badly enough, he should be allowed to. This nurse fell into the latter category. Thankfully, they usually kept quiet about their opinions. Vin wasn’t in the mood for an argument. He was still trying to figure out what to tell the shrink when he came back. How to play his cards.There were advantages to ‘fessing up and admitting right away that you did it and now wanted help. Usually it got you out quicker. But then, that left a permanent record somewhere. Somewhere where it usually bit you in the ass later on.
The other option was full denial. But then he looked at himself. Felt the hangover still. How does one explain drinking two or three six packs of beer, taking a bunch of pain pills and winding up with a slit wrist, without thoughts of death and doom somewhere in the story? Accidental overdose? Too drunk to count the pills? Fell and cut himself as he crashed into the bathroom mirror in a drunken stupor? All of the above?
His thoughts were interrupted when Chris Larabee walked into the room.
“Morning, Vin,” Chris said, coming to stand next to the bed.
Vin didn’t reply with words, but Chris easily understood Vin’s unhappiness at seeing him when he turned his head away and closed his eyes.
“Yeah, you noticed I didn’t say ‘good’ morning. Hell, it’s probably the worst one I’ve had in about three or four years.”
Chris ignored the fact that Vin was ignoring him by grabbing a chair and dragging it over to Vin’s bedside. He was very grateful that Dr. Freeberg had given him visitation privileges. After talking with the psychologist for almost an hour, he’d convinced the man that while he honestly couldn’t say whether Vin intended suicide or not, that he should at least be given the benefit of the doubt. Without showing the actual pictures or telling him what they portrayed, Chris told Freeberg about the attempted blackmail scheme and that Vin probably did what he did because he feared losing his job and friends. He also told Dr. Freeberg that the fear was unjustified and that it was Freeberg’s evaluation that would determine whether or not Vin’s job was on the line. Now Chris just needed to let Vin in on that information. If Vin would listen.
“Vin? Will you look at me? Please?” Getting no response, Chris continued anyway. “Look, Vin. I know why you did this. I got the pictures.”
“You’ll have my resignation on your desk as soon as I’m outta here,” Vin finally said, still not looking at Chris.
“I don’t want your resignation, Vin,” Chris retorted, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed.
Vin just laughed at that, saying, “Yeah, right. Like you’d let me stay after seeing them.”
“Vin, I don’t care about the pictures, well, I do, but not as far as the job goes.”
“Oh, that’s right, can’t risk me suin’ on grounds of discrimination due to my sexual orientation an’ all,” Vin ground out, finally meeting Chris’s gaze.
“No, Vin... shit.” Chris sighed and tried to think of the right words to say. “What I’m trying to say, Vin, is that I could care less about who you sleep with or have sex with. You’re a good agent and one I’d like to keep on my team.”
“Okay, a good agent. Got it,” Vin responded in a flat tone. “Fine. As soon as I figure out how to get the shrink to give me a clean bill of mental health I’ll get right back on the job.”
“Dammit, Vin! I’m your friend! I thought I was your best friend!” Chris shouted, frustrated. When Vin refused to say anything he sat down on the edge of the bed and forced Vin to look at him. Softly, he said, “I thought we trusted each other, Vin. I thought we could tell each other anything.”
Finally, after a few agonizingly long minutes, Vin spoke again. “I been burned before, Chris. Bad.”
“Tell me.”
At first, Chris didn’t think Vin was going to say anything, but then Vin started talking.
“Back in Texas, when I was with the Marshals,” he began. “Fresh outta the academy... started hangin’ with a guy... the guy in the pictures. We were young and stupid, but we had a good time.”
Chris watched as Vin struggled with the returning memories. He saw the pain they caused. “What happened?” he whispered.
“We were on a raid outside El Paso,” he began. “Went bad real quick. Both of us took hits. I woke up in the hospital three days later. Joe didn’t make it.” Vin stopped for a minute as he remembered his former lover. “A couple of the guys went to Joe’s apartment to help his parents clear it out. One of ‘em, uh, found the pictures he took. Of us. Together.”
“Vin, I’m sorry,” Chris started to say, but was interrupted as Vin continued.
“I was a rookie on probation. So, when he decided that he’d make my life a living hell, I didn’t have no choice.” When he saw that Chris was ready to protest, to tell him that he did have choices, he put his hand up to stop him. “No. I didn’t, Chris. I was on fuckin’ probation. That meant if my boss didn’t like the way I tied my tie, I could have been booted outta there. If he found out that I’d been fuckin’ one of his favorite agents, ‘cause that’s what Joe was, I’da been outta there without any hope of landing any other law enforcement job. Ever.”
“So, what did the guy with the pictures want from you?” Chris asked quietly.
“My ass,” Vin replied, giving Chris no doubt that he meant that literally.
“So how did you get it to stop? The transfer to Denver?”
“No,” Vin said with a quiet laugh and a shake of his head. “I lucked out. Asshole got transferred to Seattle two weeks later. Never even got the chance to get the pictures. Figured I’d never see him again.”
“Who is he?” Chris asked.
“Don’t matter,” Vin replied tiredly. “Ain’t like I’m gonna take ‘im to court or nothin’. And accordin’ to you, I still got my job. Just leave it be.”
The silence between the two men was uncomfortable before Chris spoke up again.
“I still can’t understand why you couldn’t at least tell me, Vin,” he said.
“Like I said before, Chris. I been burned before. I didn’t want to go through what I went through in Texas.”
“Come on, Vin,” Chris replied, somewhat confused. “That wouldn’t happen again. You know the guys on the team, we wouldn’t give you a hard time about it, let alone blackmail you with something.”
“That ain’t the part I was worried about. Not mainly, anyways.”
“I don’t understand.”
Vin looked like he was about to say something, explain his reasons to Chris, but he changed his mind. “I’m kinda tired now, Chris,” he said. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”
Chris wanted to protest. Wanted Vin to keep the communications lines open between them, now that he’d opened them, but looking at Vin, he realized that he probably pushed him as far as he was going to get today. Maybe Dr. Freeberg would get more out of him.
“Can I ask one more question, Vin? Please?” he asked.
“Won’t promise an answer.”
“When you called me. When you left the message on my machine. Was that a suicide note?”
Vin looked him in the eyes then and swallowed before answering, “Didn’t start out that way, honest. But once I started bleedin’, I didn’t think it was such a bad thing.”
Chris nodded his solemnly. “I’ll see you later, then. Get some rest.”