What We Hope to Learn

by Annie

what we learned here is love tastes bitter when its gone pass yourself forget the light, things look dirty when it's on funny how it comes to pass, that all the good slips away and there's no one around you can remember being good to you shame, shouldn't try you, couldn't step by you and open up more shame, shame what we lost here is something better left alone second steps have been forgotten, will you tell me how they go set yourself, situate, like a fool try again there's no one around you can remember being good, for you so we never thought we'd get so troubled we could never think that much it should never get this bad so let the wind blow ya, across a big floor but there's no one around who can tell us what we're here for funny in a certain light, how we all look the same and there's no one in life you can remember ever stood, for you Shame - Matchbox 20

A hand reached over his head and slammed shut the open door, stirring up the few wispy flakes of snow that had snuck inside.

Vin leaned into the door, his forehead pressed against it's cold surface as he closed his eyes and wished he could manage a way to crawl inside himself and disappear. Hands brushed lightly over his back and gripped his shoulders. Warm breath wafted across his neck and he could smell the thick scent of whiskey as he inhaled.

"Vin."

He swallowed as he heard his name, knowing he would have to turn and face the man behind him and wishing desperately that he didn't have to do just that. Not now.

Words still rang in his ears...the same words he'd heard more often than not in his life. The phrase--doesn't have to mean a thing--standing out most of all. He despised hearing them uttered yet again. Would he ever mean anything to anybody?

"Vin, look at me."

He melted against the door a little more. "Chris. I..." he paused, hearing how unsteady his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and spoke up. "I just...I gotta go."

For a brief second the hands that touched him seemed to tighten as though they might hold and never let go, but then they loosed their hold from off his back and he felt an unexpected sense of loss. As though an inner flame somewhere within him flickered and then was snuffed out entirely to leave him in the dark.

He felt empty.

Goddamnit. This wasn't what he wanted...wasn't the way he wanted things to turn. Certainly wasn't how he wanted to be feeling.

Feeling. That was the problem, right there. He had too many feelings. Here he'd been handed a night with a willing Chris--just what he'd dreamed and fantasized about for months--and he'd blown it by walking off all because his own feelings drove too deep. Chris was looking for a one night ride and he just wasn't sure he could deal. No...he was sure. He couldn't deal.

Coward.

He needed to leave. Needed desperately to get the hell gone.

His body straightened and he fumbled for the doorknob that was sticking into his hip. With the slightest step backwards, he tried to yank it open. It wouldn't budge. His hands were sweaty and he gripped the cold metal knob again, turning...turning...turning...

...failing.

"Fuckin' Goddamn, fuckass great door y' fuckin' got here," he mumbled, all the while trying to open the door without success. He felt the threads of anger and frustration beginning to take root and he welcomed them. At least they were forms of emotion with which he was more than familiar. He could deal with feelings of anger and was only too happy to let it rise up and overpower the other unwanted feeling of desperate loss that had settled with a painful ache inside his chest.

He rattled the brass doorknob. How was it not ten minutes before, Chris had it open with no problem even though the man had to be shit-faced beyond measure? Just how was that?

He pulled hard, his damp palm twisting around the cold metal. Again, he frantically tried to open the stuck knob, ready to just to kick the living shit out of the thing, when a hand brushed his out of the way. Lithe fingers calmly and slowly opened the door. With ease.

Shit. Even drunk Chris had grace of movement.

A blast of cold air hit Vin hard in the face along with a multitude of tiny icy flakes that hurried into the warmer air as if seeking their own refuge from the frigid temperature. He pulled his coat tightly around his body and braced himself to leave.

Ah, freedom.

"Just like that."

He stopped mid-step as the soft words hissed at his back. However cold it was outside was no comparison to the near sub-zero readings he was now sensing behind him. He spoke without turning.

"What?"

"You."

Vin stood on the bottom step outside Chris's door and said not a word.

Without turning, he shook his head and headed for his Jeep. The door behind him began to close and he just barely registered the whispered words that drifted out on the wind.

"Fuckin' coward."

He spun to face the peeling paint of the now closed door. With a quick-to-ignite rage that surprised even him as it burst forth, he kicked open the door and took a step back into the kitchen.

Chris was standing pretty much where he had been a moment before, eyes steady and hard and looking nowhere near as inebriated as he should.

"What did you call me?" Vin growled, his breathing coming in short pants. Coward. He hated that word. He hated that Chris had thought the exact same thing of him as he had just thought of himself. He felt close to a near full-brain implosion as he now found himself back to where he didn't want to be...face-to-face with the man he desired.

"Why? You looking to put another dent in my door?"

"What did you call me?" Vin asked again.

"Who says I called you anything?"

"I heard you."

"Then why are you asking?"

"I wanna hear you say it to my face." Vin was reeling, his emotions swelling in huge waves as anger, loss, frustration and extreme confusion warred against one another.

Why was he back here? Did it really matter that Chris said out loud what he had labeled himself not a few minutes before. Why did he care? He'd had enough people call him enough things behind his back and to his face to not let this affect him. It shouldn't matter to him and yet, it did.

God, it did so matter.

Because it came from Chris.

+ + + + + + +

Chris's mouth broke into a slow grin of near menacing proportions. He knew just how intimidating he could look and relished the feeling of control that slowly seeped back into his veins.

He inhaled slightly and took a step forward. Hurt and embarrassment and confusion, all the emotions he had been feeling when Vin just walked out. He despised the way they left him feeling so out of control.

As much as he had to admit he was pleased that Vin was present again, standing by the door in his kitchen looking for all the world like he was ready to take someone's --mainly his-- head off, Chris couldn't help but grin. There was a spine-tingling thrill that came as he suspected the onset of an arguement. He might not know how to cope with the conflicting emotions whirling so wildly in his heart, but he damn sure knew how to deal with confrontation.

That was his forte.

"I said, coward," he said, knowing full well he'd not directed the slur toward Vin, but not much caring about that right now. All that mattered was Vin had come back inside.

One way or another, he was going to walk away from this episode with his full sense of control reinstated to its rightful position and his head screwed back onto his neck instead of up his ass, which was exactly where he felt liked it had been placed the last several minutes. What was it about Tanner that had him feeling like a young boy on his first date? Vin wanted him, he knew it...so why had Vin just walked away? He needed to know.

"Or, more correctly, I guess I said fuckin' coward."

He knew he'd just added fuel to the fire, and for some reason that sent a charge down his body. He was furious with himself for feeling so out of control, which was making him furious with Vin for causing him to feel that way.

Vin paled. It wasn't what Chris called him so much as it was the expression of sheer delight that flashed briefly on the man's face that was throwing him for a loop. For a fleeting moment, Chris had looked at him as though he were some squirming bug caught between an entomologist's forceps.

"Coward," he repeated flatly. On one hand, he knew Chris was right. He was a coward...but he wasn't about to admit that to Chris.

"Well, now that we've got that straight," Chris returned, the bite of his words sliding off a razor-edged tongue. Had he been that wrong in judging Vin's signals? No...Vin wanted him, he knew it and Goddamn if he didn't want Vin as well. Exactly when had it happened that one scrawny-assed, smart-mouthed Texas loner could have him feeling so Goddamned flustered by just looking his way.

Just exactly when had this happened?

His whole life he'd been the take-charge guy. Knew what he wanted, when to go get it, and just how much it took to make it happen. Flustered he just didn't "do". And fuck if he wasn't "doing" just that right now.

He inhaled slowly and silently counted to ten.

Stress management lesson. Breathe deep.

Fuck.

Vin stared at his own hand braced on the deep green granite counter. His fingers curled into a fist and he stuffed it back into his jacket. On the one hand, yes, he was a coward. On the other hand, he wasn't about to let himself be caught up in something that would only have him wallowing in his own misery. One night with Chris would just leave him wanting more...just leave him wanting, period.

"Okay. Coward. I guess I deserve that, considerin'--"

"Considering what?"

Vin looked down and studied the scuffed toes of his well worn boots. Really oughta buy new ones. He looked up at Chris and his anger renewed. He wasn't going to allow himself to be cast aside by yet another person he wrongly thought cared. Chris was drunk and horny and Vin wasn't going to put himself in the position of being his one night stand.

Fuck that.

"Considerin' I'm still standin' here, 'stead of bein' halfway home, that's what. I'm not just a coward, I'm a dumb-ass, too. No...a fuckin' dumb-ass."

Chris stared at him, sure he just caught a glimpse of sadness behind the flashing blue eyes. He powered down. "Hell, Vin. I wasn't talking about you, anyway. I was talking about myself."

"Yourself?"

Chris sighed and felt the urge to fight rush out of him. Stress management lesson...choose your battles. "Yeah," he said and closed his eyes. He was being a coward...Vin obviously didn't want what he'd thought...mainly, him. How could he have been so foolish?

Long beats of silence weighed heavy as the two men remained in their respective positions. Chris seemed to have pulled away and Vin stood quietly thinking, trying hard to sort out the past few minutes. It was clear the man had sobered considerably and was obviously regretting already the kiss that had happened between them. He debated on his next move.

Should he leave without saying a word? No, that hadn't exactly worked out well the first time.

Should he run right over and slip his tongue across Chris's closed eyelids? Yeah, right...if he relished a good ass-kicking.

He exhaled.

"What do you want from me?" He raised his head with surprise as he realized he'd just voiced out loud what he was thinking. Not what he'd expected to come out of his own mouth. With a quick glance, he caught the rather surprised expression of Chris's features. Clearly not what Chris had expected, either.

Maybe he should have just up and left.

He looked to his boots again. Since when did things come popping out of his mouth so quickly? And just when had he become such a masochist? He braced himself for a reaction.

Outwardly, he hoped he looked fairly well collected. Inwardly, he was falling apart.

Could Chris tell?

Chris's voice softened as he thought how to answer. He hadn't expected the question. "What do I want? Well, I really want to know what it is you want from me."

Vin stiffened. Leave it to Chris to throw it back. He thought for a moment about what Chris was asking. The same thing he was asking of himself.

What did he want from Chris?

Well, not a one-night stand, that was for damn sure.

"I want...I want..." his voice trailed off and he wondered if he sounded as pathetically juvenile to Chris as he did to himself.

He couldn't voice what it was he did want.

Yes...he did want Chris...but not if it was going to be just a one-time fuck followed by 'that was great, see ya Monday and don't let the door slam ya on your way out'.

Vin's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone and both men stared at it as he pulled it from his pocket.

Saved by the bell.

He read the number listed. "Buck," he said and caught Chris's eyes, holding them to his as he said hello.

"Hey there, Junior. I just wanted to check and make sure you boys made it okay. Weather's gettin' really bad and I know it's a long drive from the bar to Chris's and then back to your own place. So, Chris okay after you left?"

Vin nodded as he replied. "Yeah. Chris is fine." He could hear Buck chuckle into the phone.

"He give you any trouble? Sometimes he can be a real pain in the--"

"No. No trouble. In fact, he...he's standin' right here. Y' wanna talk to him?"

+ + + + + + +

Vin held the phone out to Chris, who grabbed it all the while shaking his head in protest. He had no interest in talking to Buck at the present time.

"Buck."

"Hey, Chris! Vin still at your place? I kinda figured you'd be passed out by now and he'd be halfway home. So, how's your head?"

Chris sighed. His energy was rapidly draining away from him only to be replaced by a spreading tiredness from head to toe. And he was getting a wicked headache. All at once, he felt ancient.

"I'm fine, Buck. Where are you?" Chris could hear noise in the background and Buck laughed again.

"I'm somewhere nice and warm for the night."

Chris laughed as well. "You at that girl--what's her name--Kerry's place? The one you were stalking earlier tonight?"

"No, and I'll have you know, I do NOT 'stalk'. I subtly pursue. But if you really must know, she up and left with her friends right after you all did. Poor girl, doesn't know what she'll be missing."

"Oh, I'm sure she has some idea. So, who's that I hear in the background, then? Anyone I know?"

"Well...It's uh...see, I'm at, uh...Ezra's, actually."

Chris paused. Buck's tone seemed to change suddenly and he couldn't help but notice the shushing noises sounding out faint but clear on the other end of the line.

"Ezra?"

"Yeah. Ezra. I drove by his place after you and Vin took off."

"What's the matter, Buck? Slim pickings after Kerry left and Inez turned you down?"

"Yeah, pickings just shriveled up and died after that. And Inez didn't really turn me down...she just was too busy to talk about it. I'll catch her next time. Anyway, the place got quiet a short time after you and Vin left. I was heading home but then decided to come over and help Ezra drink his fine wine and eat his food. The least I could do."

"Ezra," Chris repeated. Buck at Ezra's place. On the night of a snowstorm. Seemed a litte odd...even for Buck. "What're you boys doing?"

"Sippin' some of his private stock and playing cards."

"Poker? Not strip I hope."

"Strip? Hell no, we're not playing strip. Shit, Chris, whaddaya take me for? Besides, you know I won't play the high stakes with Ezra, the man cheats. I could wind up losing my shirt. So, uh...you lettin' Vin get snowed in for the night there? Kind of figured you to be passed out by now, Chris. You really were putting them away earlier. Didn't figure Vin'd still be hanging around your place, either. Kinda late for both of you, ain't it?"

"Buck?"

"Ye-e-s?"

"Just when did you decide to become my mother?"

"Aw hell, Chris," Buck snickered, "just call me Mother Buck--"

"Well, okay...I guess that's better than calling you motherfu--"

"Ahh, I get it. Okay, okay. I'm sayin' goodnight."

"'Night, Buck. Don't let Ezra cheat."

"I think he already has...though things are looking up. He ain't got any sleeves on to hide cards in now."

"No sleeves? Does that mean no shirt, too? Buck...you are playing strip--"

"OkaywellG'night,Chris. Gottago-tellJuniorIsaidlater-seeyabye."

Chris smiled at the hurried words and he shut off the phone, setting it down on the kitchen counter. Buck and Ezra. Who would've thought Buck to pick Ezra to be his snowbunny for the night.

For a fraction of a second he forgot just who else was standing there with him in his kitchen, and he turned with near surprise as he again noticed Vin, rooted to the same place by the door. Vin was looking at his boots.

Chris leaned against his built-in refrigerator and watched Vin. He was still angry, confused and somewhat hurt by Vin's actions and he'd have to admit that just gazing on the man now was rekindling that wicked fire in his groin. Which, unfortunately, was the very last thing he needed to have happen.

He pulled himself forward and opened the fridge's door to retrieve two beers. He held one out to Vin.

"Oh, shit, Chris. I think that's one thing I don't need right now."

Chris opened his and took a long pull. "Yeah, well, I know it's the one thing I do."

"Least y' need somethin'," Vin murmured as he traced a finger over the label on his own bottle.

"What made you leave?"

Vin looked up as he heard the unexpected question. He tried quickly to think of the right thing to say.

"What made you kiss me?" Well, hell Tanner...that sure wasn't it.

Both men stared at each other, their uncertainty showing as the words just rushed forward from each of their mouths. So much for beating around the bush.

"You kissed me."

"No...I..."

"No? I seem to have a distinct memory of your tongue inching its way to my tonsils, Vin. So, from where I stand, that makes you the initiating kisser."

"But you--"

"Are you accusing me of being a liar?"

Vin's eyes widened. Liar? What the hell was Chris talking about? "What the hell are you talking about?"

Chris stepped into Vin's space. He was playing with the man and he knew it. He wanted to hear Vin say that he'd desired the kiss just as much as he had. He needed to know that he wasn't wrong in his assumptions about Vin's attraction to him. He caught a faint trace of the scent of Vin's leather jacket. It had been dampened by the snow and, for some reason, reminded him of a rather familiar aroma. Not offensive, just familiar. Vin smelled like...like...a wet dog.

Dog. Dog years. "I knew it," Chris grinned to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Not a thing, " he said and backed off. He needed to calm down his own heightened awareness of the younger man. He really wanted to explore just where this was going with Vin. Stress management lesson...relaxed environments enable relaxed attitudes. "Listen, I'm getting tired. You gonna follow me into the den so we can sit down, or are you still ready to hurry on home?"

Vin never wanted to stay somewhere so badly in all his life...and never wanted to leave somewhere just as much. But he couldn't do it...he couldn't stay near this man one second more. He wasn't willing to endure the emotional upheaval that would surely come if he allowed himself this one night with Chris. Not to mention, it didn't look like Chris was all that interested anymore, anyway.

He shrugged and set the beer on the counter.

"I really gotta go."

Chris stared at him, his eyes cool and steady. He nodded slightly and took a deep pull from the bottle.

Vin was leaving. Vin was leaving and Goddamnit why did that bother him so much.

"Suit yourself."

Vin turned to the door, relieved to find it had been left slightly ajar so he wouldn't have to relive the knob fiasco. He smoothly left.

It was snowing hard, the flakes bit into his skin as he slipped and slid his way on the slick driveway. Tiny bits of sleet and ice were mixed with the snow and he could hear them tinkling against the Jeep's windshield as he seated himself. He jammed his hands further into the pockets of his leather jacket and dimly wished he'd worn a heavier coat. And gloves, maybe. Gloves right now would've been a good thing.

He started the engine and gave a long look to the firmly closed back door, wishing it would open. With a sigh, he put the Jeep in gear and pulled away.

Inside, Chris felt the increase of the hammers in his head. Vin hadn't wanted him after all. He had been mistaken. He leaned his back against the wall and stared at his kitchen door, wishing it would open up one more time with Vin on the other side.

With a heave, he hoisted himself standing and headed for bed. Maybe it was best this way. Stress management lesson...never fall in love with long-haired Texans.

He stopped mid-stride. Love?

No, not love. Lust maybe...yeah.

But love?

Well...maybe.

THREE

Take your head around the world See what you get From your mind Write your soul down word for word See who's your friend Who is kind It's almost like a disease I know soon you will be Over the lies, and you'll be strong You'll be rich in love and you will carry on But no--Oh no No you won't be mine Take your straight line for a curve Make it stretch, the same old line Try to find if it was worth what you spent Why you're guilty for the way You're feeling now It's almost like being free And I know soon you will be Take yourself out to the curb Sit and wait A fool for life It's almost like a disease I know soon you will be Over the lies, and you'll be strong You'll be rich in love and you will carry on But no--Oh no No you won't be mine You Won't Be Mine - Matchbox 20

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, a beer, a glass of water and two aspirin in hand, and he wondered at all that had transpired that evening. So much learned in just a few short hours. So much change

in less than that.

He'd learned that he still had a side left to him he'd thought long buried. A side that held the capacity for longing and desire and want and...well, love.

Love. There was that word again.

Did he really love Vin?

In that, he was unsure. There was no question he was definitely attracted to the man. And he would have to admit, too, that finding he still had the capacity to possibly find love again was not all that unpleasant a rediscovery. There was just something about the way in which Vin, with sometimes no more than a slight glance, could fill his heart with warmth. He smiled softly as he thought of all the many instances when that had happened, and he'd just been too blind to truly see them.

Love.

Maybe.

It was a nice thought, anyway. But then, it was a frightening one as well. Yes, he did have feelings for Vin, that much was apparent. Just what he was supposed to do about those feelings, if anything, was not.

And Vin. What about him?

Well, who knew what the hell he was thinking.

Chris reflected back on Vin's sudden departure. Surely that had to be a sign of his disinterest and discomfort with the evening's strange developments. Though, damn if Vin didn't kiss back as hard--no, harder--than he'd been given...

and VIn sure did know how to kiss. No room for doubt on that point.

Chris smiled at the memory of those twilight eyes staring so openly at him for those few tender seconds. Vin hadn't been too eager to leave at that precise moment...but then, he sure had later. Ran out the door, practically. Chris sighed as he reconfirmed that his earlier assumptions about Vin had to have been so very off the mark.

Vin really hadn't been interested. Curious, maybe...but not interested. In fact, considering the manner in which he'd hightailed it on out, he must've been damn near horrified.

And that left Chris...

'Where?' he wondered. He downed the pills and the water and stretched out on his back, fingers running lightly over the down duvet cover. The one with the dark green and burgundy plaid. The one Sarah had sewn.

Sarah.

He took a long pull from his beer. What would Sarah say if she knew what he was thinking about someone else...about loving someone else. He felt the familiar faint pangs of guilt. Guilt because he'd been thinking so longingly of someone else. Hell, guilt because he'd been with someone else, even if it had been only a kiss... and he felt guilty because he knew he'd wanted more than that.

Guilt because he was married. Had been married. Should still be married. Sarah was his wife.

No...Sarah had been his wife. She was gone now. Sarah was gone.

Sarah was gone and he knew it and he knew he needed to accept it and move forward, but damn if that wasn't the absolute most hardest fuckin' thing to do.

Until now. Until Vin.

He tipped back the bottle and let the cool beer slide down his throat. She would've liked Vin.

He shifted down and relaxed back into the pillows, drinking lightly from the beer. His headache was beginning to advance its hold, it's pulsing beat behind his eyes making his thoughts blur as he realized how very tired he really was. With a slight groan, he turned and set the half-finished beer onto the nightstand then lay back down and listened to the soft tinkling sounds of the snow and ice hitting against the glass of his bedroom windows. His eyes fell shut as he began to drift.

Yeah, Sarah would've approved. He was sure.

Not that it mattered.

+ + + + + + +

The last of the falling snow glistened as twin rays of light turned each tiny snowflake into sparkling glitter that danced within their beams as they drifted softly to the icy ground. Trees stood tall and sliver, their naked limbs encased by a hard shell of smooth ice. The ground lay blanketed in white as thick layers of ice and snow covered anything and everything. Above, the clouded sky finally began to break apart as the storm eased, allowing enough of the full moon's nightly glow to illuminate the frozen ground.

High up a steep incline, a silent road lay gleaming in its brilliance, the near invisible iced surface shining as brightly as a highly polished mirror. Along the road's small shoulder, the smooth, white surface was marred by the marks from a vehicle's tires. Tracks ran off the blacktop and down the embankment, each indentation of tread now just barely visible as they had been filled with the falling snow.

At the bottom of the slope, the outline of a vehicle could just be seen as the moon's beams bounced gently off its painted surface. One headlight pointed straight ahead while the other shined askew, its fading light barely a glow behind shattered glass.

Nothing stirred save the tiniest of flurries, which whirled and danced with the rise of each gusting wind as they were blown loose from the trees. The cold air swirled with an insistent whisper that blended with the faint, soft rhythmic whoosh of windshield wipers sliding across a cracked windshield. With one final pass, the rubber blades stopped their sweep and froze into place. The vehicle gave a low metallic whine and then a slow hiss, followed by nothing. No sound, no movement, just the quiet song of the wind and the faint tinkering of shards of ice falling from the overladen trees.

The headlights dimmed, their spread of light softening to a faint radiance against the white sheet of snow.

A sharp crack split the silence as a tree's thin branch fell to the ground, no longer able to hold its icy burden.

The breeze stilled for a brief moment and the flurries lessened their frenzied path, only to fly again as the wind gathered itself once more and hurried through the trees.

As if from nowhere, a tiny drop of bright red splattered onto the pristine white ground cover that surrounded the damaged vehicle... followed by another. and another, each warm circle fading to a soft pink as it melted into the hard shell of the frozen mix.

+ + + + + + +

Chris sat upright and gasped. For a few anxious seconds, his mind reeled with the remains of the nightmare that had awakened him. He gathered his wits and peered into the dark, trying to read the faint green glow of his bedside clock.

Two a.m.

With a groan, he leaned back onto the pillows and sighed softly. He ran a shaky hand over his face and wondered what woke him. Surely he'd had enough to drink to not find himself awake in the middle of the night. But here he was.

His mind couldn't clearly focus on the subject of his dreams, but the state of his sheets was enough to assure him that he'd suffered at least a few hours of obviously restless sleep.

Although he'd had plenty of disturbed sleep for a full year and a half after Sarah and Adam had been killed, he thought that he had finally been relieved of the nightmares. It had been quite a long while since he'd been plagued by dreams so upsetting as to awaken him from a sound, half-drunken sleep.

Must've been pretty bad, he thought, and was then glad he couldn't remember.

The light of the moon shined into his window and he rose to look out over the grounds that surrounded his ranch. The snow softly gleamed with hints of blues and grays. The storm seemed to have stopped, although he could tell that a layer of ice had frozen over everything outside.

For a brief moment, a rush of panic hit him hard and his mind flashed quickly on Vin's face. He wondered if Vin had made it home all right and thought maybe he should have insisted he stay for the night. If only to avoid the inclement weather and dangerous, iced-over roads.

No, the way Vin had rushed away, there was no way he would've agreed to stay, storm or no storm.

Besides, Vin had the Jeep. Four-wheel drive and all. Driving through the snow would not have proved a problem.

Of course, driving over a sheet of ice might.

He turned to the phone and wondered if he ought to call, just to make sure Vin was home safely.

Right.

Vin would be irritated as hell to find someone calling him in the wee early hours of the night. No, better he wait until morning to disturb the man.

He picked up the cordless receiver and punched in Vin's cell number, anyway.

What the hell, he thought. Live dangerously.

+ + + + + + +

coldcoldcoldcoldcold...

It was In his bones. In his veins. In his mind. Cold. His brain was rapidly becoming as numb as his body as he slipped and slid and waded over and through the thick, frigid ground-cover. His fingers and toes were blocks of ice, their nerve endings having passed the point of numbness and pain, turning now into near deadened stumps as he slowly and painstakingly inched his way down the frozen road.

He'd been walking for so, so long...one step followed by another...and another. And another. A slip and a fall, then upright again...another fall...spitting blood...another step...a pounding head...another step...taste of metal in his mouth...another step. Then another. and another.

His mind was in a blind freeze, his concentration centered solely on completin g his journey. It wasn't much farther. It couldn't be much farther. Please let it be not much farther.

Just one more step and he would be at the top of the hill. Another step and he'd be down. Another, and he might see the place. Another, and he'd be there and then warm...and dry...and...

His stride lengthened as he neared, and then he slid and fell hard and his body skidded across the smooth ice rink that was the driveway. His brain screamed for him to remain still...and he let his eyes close as his cheek came to rest on the sheet of ice. Again, he could taste that metallic taste and it reminded him of something, but just what that was he couldn't quite place. He began to rise, made it all the way to one knee before again falling prone. He should rest. He would rest, if only for a moment, and only because he was just so tired...and then he'd get up and resume his...his...he'd get up and...

He couldn't think. His head ached, his body felt dead and he was so overly tired....and suddenly it didn't matter what he couldn't remember. Nothing mattered but the fact that he was now lying down. Yes, he was lying flat...and that had to mean he could now rest...and sleep...and maybe that was all he needed to know, anyway. He was lying down so could finally fall asleep in this nice, warm, dry bed...had to be a bed...and thank God he finally made it because he was just so incredibly overtired and his head hurt and he couldn't possibly move one more...foot...and that made him laugh, though he wasn't sure why...he was just so mind-numbingly tired...

His world tilted jarringly uneven as he was wrenched quickly to his feet and a faint sting hit the near-frozen skin of his cheek.

He thought he heard a voice but in the next instant it was gone. His mind started its slide to blissful numbness once more, and he felt his knees begin to buckle and his weary body more than willingly start to follow. Then, something hard and unyielding jabbed him under both arms and with it came the renewed sting on his cheeks. That sharp pain caused a crack in the ice that held his mind, and for a split-second he saw and heard and recognized the force that pulled at him.

"Fuck-off, Lar'bee," his tongue slurred as it tumbled over the words. "Lemme 'lone...sleepin'." His body sagged against the one that held it, and he let his eyes slide shut as he tried to return to the warmth of unconsciousness.

Chris swallowed against the panic building in his throat and struck Vin as hard as he dared in order to rouse him. His action was rewarded by the pair of slitted eyes half-turned his way. He hoisted up the semiconscious man and propelled him toward the house and warmth it offered.

Thank God he'd awakened in the middle of the night.

Thank God he'd tried to call Vin and heard the ringing of the man's forgotten cell phone down in his own kitchen.

Thank God he'd decided, at that precise moment, and for whatever reason, to set down the phone and glance out the kitchen's window and wonder at the large, dark lump that lay heaped at the end of his frozen driveway.

Thank God he'd found Vin when he did.

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