A Life Not Left

EIGHT

"Vin."

He was floating away...

"Vin. Wake up."

"No," he thought he'd said...

"Vin."

Insistent, this time, that voice. He wanted to shut it out, but...

Eyes peeled open and too bright light assaulted him from every direction. He closed them with a groan.

"Open your eyes, Vin."

Ezra? He tried again, this time squinting against the intrusion. "Ez," he said, thinking something was not right at all about Ezra being there...

"You're doing fine, Vin. Take it easy..."

Doing fine? He was...he was...hurting. Stiff and groggy as all hell. Couldn't think of what the hell happened--

And then remembered. "Chris!"

"Buck should be picking him up at the prosthodontist's--we'll meet them later."

"Bishop..."

Ezra sighed, sounding tired. "They're looking for him, Vin, but..." Ezra moved closer to him, to the bed--he was lying in a bed--hospital?

"You with me here, Vin?"

Nodding, Vin squinted, could just make out Ezra's features. "Think so..."

"How are you feeling?"

Like he'd been run over by a truck and left flattened, like in a cartoon, was the first thing that came to mind. He shifted on the mattress. "Okay--how's Chris?"

"Hairline fracture in his jaw and enough stitches over his eye to give him just the loveliest appearance for the next several days--but I digress. How are you faring?"

"Feel like shit." And that was putting it mildly. He shifted to sitting and felt hands steadying him. He reeled. "Head rush," he muttered.

"And then some," Ezra countered.

"He's okay, though...Chris?"

"Oh yes. Okay enough to be barking orders at everyone near him, I hear. Even with his jaw swollen nearly shut."

"His jaw..." Jesus.

"He'll be okay, Vin. Isn't happy about Bishop, though..."

Vin shot him a look. "Makes two of us."

"Seven of us. Eight if you count Travis...thirteen if you throw in the prosecutor's office...twenty if you add--"

"I get it--I get it, Ezra." He winced, the pain in his head sparking to life with every word. His leg was still fairly numb, thankfully, and he ran fingers lightly over a large dressing there. Felt like a dead weight. "They got a lead on the sonofabitch?"

A sigh then. "No. Seems the man has vanished into the thinnest of air."

"Damn." A glance down and he realized... "Ezra...can y' maybe scare up my clothes?"

"Have some sweats for you right here. Your jeans were cut apart when they brought you in. That is, cut up more than the rags they were already...really, Vin, we do need to work on your wardrobe."

"I loved those jeans." He carefully slid one leg into the sweatpants, Ezra helping him to ease the other. At least it wasn't throbbing anymore. "What happened? I mean, after--"

"According to Chris, Bishop dragged you out the door and toward the car he had waiting. Chris thought he'd taken you, Vin--for good. He said he thought you were dead."

That gave him pause. "Don't remember parts. I do remember kissing the asphalt."

"That's one way to put it, I suppose. They shoved you out the door at the last minute. You have a nasty case of road rash across your forehead." Ezra pointed to him, then went on. "Chris called Buck, dialed with his nose, I was told...though Buck and I were already on the way. Never could I imagine Chris refering to you as 'Vincent' unless there was something by way of a situation. Chris apparently made it down the stairs just in time to see the car pull away and then you rolled out and kissed the asphalt, as you so put it. Drew quite a crowd by that time."

"He was saying my name...I remember..." Someone had been calling to him, he knew he'd heard his name.

"He was with you when we arrived. The both of you looked...bad."

Fingers rubbing at his neck, he could half feel the tightening of that cord, and then a hand covered his own, Ezra's words soft and low. "I removed that myself."

"Thanks, Ez."

"Anytime, my friend. Anytime. Now you rest and I'll go see about when they're going to let you out of here."

+ + + + + + +

A few bloodtests, then a few more and he was finally released. Whatever it was Bishop had injected him with hadn't done any damage, at least none they could find. For that, he was grateful.

Now, what seemed days later, though he was pretty sure had only been hours, found him being driven home from the hospital by Ezra. Home--the thought of entering his apartment made him shudder. The thick smell of Bishop's cologne would surely be lingering, and if he caught even the most minute scent of it, he knew he'd be violently ill.

Have to buy a new bed.

Ought to have the place fumigated, too.

He'd slept in Ezra's car, awakening when a gentle jostle rocked him slightly, and then peered out the window in surprise.

The ranch. They were at Chris's ranch. Somehow he'd assumed he'd just be going home, and with that assumption he'd slept. It was one thing to know Chris was okay, another to have to face him so soon after...

"Ezra," he said, hearing the apprehension in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Ezra, I don't think--"

"Chris asked for you, Vin. You know him, always in charge. Wants to see for himself you're doing well, and we figured the two of you staying out at his place might be more conducive to both your healing."

That sent a sharp pain through his stomach. He didn't care what Ezra or any of the others suspected about his relationship with Chris--whatever plane on which that relationship might now be teetering--but he wasn't ready to see Chris face to face. Not yet.

And then Ezra was out of the car, coming around to his side and helping him out. He stepped carefully, his leg pulling and head throbbing still, though somehow he didn't think that pain was from Bishop hitting him. Moving was slow, ridiculously so, though if he could get the hang of using the crutches, get them going in the right direction...

Ezra's hand slid to his back to help brace him. He was staring at him. "Vin--you know I don't think you did anything out there willingly--"

"Don't wanna talk about it, Ezra." And sure as hell he didn't--though he knew he was about to have to--about to launch right into everything, once he got inside and faced Chris. He owed him...

Ezra walked him in, stopping to talk to Buck, who was cooking something in the kitchen. "He's in the den," Buck said as they entered. "And Vin--I'm really glad you're okay."

He nodded, then maneuvered slowly on the crutches into the other room, not sure what to think. Unsure what to say. Unsure what to do. He wanted to see Chris, wanted to make sure for himself that he was alright, but the thought of having to open up about everything that had happened...all that had happened before...

His stomach was in knots.

But it wasn't like Bishop left anything to secret--and the fact Chris was almost killed...

Chris looked like hell. "You look like hell," he told him, and he did. Face half bruised and swollen...

"So d' you," Chris mumbled in return from where he reclined back on the sofa. Vin could barely understand him. Chris patted the cushion next to where he rested. "Sit down," he said, lips hardly moving. "'Fore y' fall." It was deceptive. Chris looked half asleep himself, yet Vin could feel him studying him closely from under nearly closed lids.

He was tired, though. Weary. And so he hobbled like an old man into the room, pretty much dropped the crutches to the floor, and sat. "I'm beat," he said and let his eyes close, still all too aware of the close scrutiny. Maybe they would both just fall asleep and not have to say anything about any of it...

Ever.

But then Chris was sighing as well. "Me, too."

A cautious peer to his right, and he saw Chris's eyes fall all the way closed. For a stretch of time they both lay there, just breathing. So far okay--breathing, he could handle.

"Feel like shit," Chris said softly into the silence.

"Look like shit," Vin agreed.

"Smell like shit," Chris finished.

"Nahhh, that's just Buck's cookin'," Vin added, smiling as that got a bark of laughter from Chris. This followed by a groan.

"Ah, shit, Vin...don't make me laugh..."

"I'm sorry, Chris."

Chris sat up, wiping at his eyes. "S'okay...only hurts when I breathe…"

Vin sat up, too, ignoring the pain flaring in his leg...his head..."No, Chris. I mean...I am sorry. I am so, so sorry." There he was, touching on exactly what he wanted to avoid, and though it was hard, it maybe wasn't impossible. Chris turned to him.

"Not your fault--"

"I should've come t' talk to ya before, I know...it's just, I--"

"'S okay, Vin...you don't have to--"

"I do, though. I mean I should 'a said somethin' long before....ain't like he said, Chris. Ain't like he told ya..."

"I know."

"That stuff he give me..."

Chris leaned forward and pressed his fingers over Vin's lips. "I know, Vin," he said. "I know now." His hands slid to Vin's shoulders and he gently pulled him closer. Their eyes met, Vin's searching for what he wasn't sure...and then he allowed his head to come to rest on Chris's shoulder. Hands wrapped his chest, his fingers laced into Chris's and he relaxed and let the voice in his ear warm him.

"Let it go, Vin. Just let it go."

NINE

How long he'd slept and 'til what time he wasn't sure. But he awoke alone on the sofa, the room filled with shadows, barely lit by a single lamp. Faint tinkering sounds in the kitchen had him rising, but that movement set his head to spinning...his leg to throbbing...

"Chris?" he all but whispered into the air.

And then he was there--Buck and Ezra in tow.

"Bout time you woke up," Buck said, grinning.

"Any longer and you'd have missed the meal Buck is calling dinner...what I call garbage disposal fodder," Ezra added, quickly maneuvering away from Buck's fist.

"Not much hungry, anyway," Vin said, feeling more thirsty than anything else and before he could even ask, Chris was there with a large tumbler full of water and ice. He sat down next to him and helped steady his shaking hands. "Feel a little shaky--stuff the hospital give me ain't all worn off yet, I guess." Or worse, the stuff Bishop had given him.

Buck nudged Ezra in the arm. "Come help me clean up."

"I believe you mean, come watch you clean up," Ezra replied as they turned out the door.

"Buck's cookin' that bad?" Vin asked, turning to Chris and suddenly unsure of what to say.

Chris was smiling. "Dunno--could only have soup."

He reached out to run light fingers over Chris's jaw, the swelling and bruising looking even darker in the dim light. "Shouldn't 'a happened."

"Told you," Chris managed, "not your fault."

But it was in a way--all his fault. "It ain't just what Bishop did...it was what I did, too, Chris."

"Vin--"

He shifted on the sofa, turning to look Chris fully in the eyes and hoping his heart would leave his stomach some time soon. "Was like you said, Chris...I let him."

"I never said--"

"No. Shut up, will ya, an' let me talk here. Got your jaw broken 'n now all you want t' do is gab." This wasn't easy, but he had to face that which ate at him--had been eating at him for these long weeks. "You don't understand--I let him, Chris."

He watched closely, afraid, yet having to see the reaction to his words. This had gone on long enough. "Those first couple times I didn't know what was happening--that stuff he give me..." A long look at Chris revealed nothing. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, his bruised face impassive. "But then...the last time..."

"It doesn't matter, Vin."

But it did...it mattered. He sighed and studied his hands. This was...hard. "I--he came to me again. Was the night 'fore it all ended, Chris, that night before you met me outside 'a jail..." No--this was much, much more than hard--it was near impossible. God, he needed a drink. "See...I let him." Raising downcast eyes, he met Chris head on. "I let him tie me to the bed, let him put them things inside me... I let him." A shudder then, and he inhaled and exhaled slowly and hoped to God Chris wouldn't say anything and just let him finish. He wasn't going to repeat this--ever.

And Chris wasn't saying anything...wasn't looking at him, either. But he had to go on, had to get it all out in the open. Even if it cost him everything--even if it cost him Chris, which, the way the last few weeks had gone, was happening anyway.

"I didn't want it--didn't want none of it. But I didn't want to break my cover, either. Jesus. Everyone'd worked so hard for so long...cost Ed Myers his life even, and so...so I let him..." Back to looking at his hands--his fingers were wrapping into knots. "He liked to choke me, got off on it, and would wrap this cord around my neck and pull 'til I 'bout passed out. But at the same time, he would also--"

"Vin--"

"Please. Let me finish. He'd pull the thing tight, so tight--I couldn't breathe. Everything would get all dark an' hazy an' then...he'd do me with his mouth. Would get me right up t' the point I'd... My body would react on it's own--I swear I didn't want any of this..." Chris's hands covered his and he looked up to face him, surprised at the care and concern he saw and it bolstered him.

"You were drugged--"

"No...no. That's just it, see...that last time... I didn't drink that stuff. That shit he give me. I was pretty sure he'd been spiking the bottles 'a water I had in my room--guess he used a hypodermic. But that night I didn't drink any. I couldn't. Didn't hardly eat or drink all day 'cause I kept thinkin' maybe he'd put somethin' in there..."

"God, Vin..."

"And so...when he came in my room and tied me to the bed... I let him, Chris. I let him. I did."

The throb in his head was incessant. It pulsed sickeningly behind his eyes. "I faked being out. I didn't want it--didn't want any of it, but I couldn't drink any more of that shit again, either--made me so sick and I was... I was afraid he'd end up killin' me by pullin' that cord too tight for too long." He sighed then, and sat wearily back against the cushion. Chris's hands fell away from him.

It was almost over. Everything.

He spoke the last, his voice a low, rough whisper in the quiet of the room. "Y' see...I let him do it to me, an' I gave him what he wanted. All like you said. I sold m'self, Chris. I let him use me like that, all just to get what I needed to bust him--and in the end, it didn't even matter. None of it mattered."

"And the fight?"

"Bishop's son-in-law. Anthony. He'd been at me from day one. Didn't like me where he thought he should'a been--at Bishop's side. Things got kinda heated that night 'n' I got outta control, I guess. Took out my frustrations--but I wasn't on anything. I'd been drinking--everyone had, which just added to it all, but I wasn't drugged. Everyone else just kinda jumped into the fray after the first punch, though. Even Ezra."

Chris was nodding then, small, nearly imperceptible movements that gave Vin no idea of what he was thinking.

"It was dumb to let him get to me, I know...but some 'a the shit he was sayin'..."

"You could'a been killed, Vin, your cover blown. You and Ezra--"

"I know. God, I know." Wasn't like visions of what could have been hadn't filled his brain. And now, with what all had just happened with Bishop... He reached out to touch along the dark bruises on Chris's jaw, then pulled his hand away, hesitant. Nothing felt right, anymore.

Silence then, for too long. Vin let his eyes close and his head rest against the back of the sofa. He'd thought it would've been some sort of soul cleansing to reveal all this--but it wasn't. Just made him feel that much worse now Chris knew.

His head ached, his leg. His heart.

He felt Chris move off the sofa, away from him, but he didn't bother to open his eyes. He'd leave, get Ezra to drive him home...and then...

Shit. He had no 'and then.'

Gentle hands brushed the hair back off his face, startling him. Fingers traced like feathers over the line of tiny stitches that ran into his hairline. He shivered.

"This hurt?" Chris was asking and then his eyes did open. He shook his head. The only thing that hurt was Chris's touch.

"None of this was your doing. You suffered, Vin, and don't you think otherwise." Chris slid back into the seat next to him, his fingers moving over the still bruised skin of Vin's face. "I don't."

And that amazed him. After what he'd said, after what they'd just been through because of him...

He sat there a long time, thinking of all that happened. To him. To Chris. And when Chris's hands pulled him closer, he willingly fell into them. He was tired--so very tired.

"You're falling asleep," Chris said against his hair.

"Thought I just woke up," he replied softly. The pull of sleep was strong, though...he felt exhausted. "Still feelin' groggy as all hell."

Chris was stroking a hand over his forehead, rubbing softly. He sighed. Felt incredibly real, like nothing had in quite some time.

"You're due a painkiller."

Lord, that was the last thing he wanted right now. "Nah, don't need it."

"Vin."

"Still feel kinda out of it--I ain't about to take something else on top of that."

Chris rose, sliding out from under Vin and heading toward the kitchen. "Well I'm due 'n' I'm takin' mine. Be right back."

Vin lay on the sofa, the warmth from Chris still evident on the cushion where he'd sat. He ran a light hand over that area, then lay his head down, thoughts and images from the day swirling in and out of his brain. He closed his eyes and pulled in images of him and Chris instead--laughing, riding, relaxing. Kissing.

They hadn't kissed in so long.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and lips flitted across his temple. It woke him, he hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep, but when he started to rise, the hand pressed him back down.

"Shh," Chris whispered to him, "don't get up."

A blanket fell over him, the handmade afghan from the back of the couch, he assumed, and he suddenly felt warm--a warmth he hadn't had in months.

"Sent the boys home," Chris was mumbling from over the sofa. Vin had already gotten used to his rather oddly clipped speech. "You hungry yet?"

He shook his head. Just felt completely drained of energy. Even hunger couldn't be mustered.

"Eat later," Chris said then, his voice now coming toward him. Without opening his heavy lids he could feel Chris settle in beside him. The television came on, the room painted in its blue flickering light. Chris muted the sound, and silence stole over them.

It wasn't hard, being with Chris like this. Not as hard as telling him had been--not as hard as he'd thought it would be when all was said and done. In fact, it was surprising how easy this all felt now. He sighed then, a long softly released breath that pretty much poured from him. Even he could hear the exhaustion within.

"Okay?" Chris asked.

Vin felt him slip a hand beneath his head and he half raised up to let Chris shift closer to him, settling down with his cheek resting on the denim of Chris's thigh. He nodded, adjusting his position. More okay than he'd thought he would be. "Jus' tired," he whispered in answer. A comforting weight of a hand fell over his shoulder and stayed there.

For a while they just watched whatever was playing silently on the television, and listened to each other breathe. Vin let his eyes slip shut and kept them closed. It felt too good to do otherwise.

He startled awake when Bishop's face loomed too close, panicked and unsure of his bearing until he realized he was staring up into Chris's concerned eyes. Not Bishop. He'd been dreaming--a nightmare.

Chris was frowning. "You were moaning."

He let his eyes fall closed again. "Dreamin'...an' m' leg hurts."

"Here--" Chris was shaking out a pill from the vial--a painkiller. He shuddered. Somehow the thought of taking anything... and then Chris was helping him sit, placing the pill on his tongue for him and helping him steady the glass of water as he swallowed it down. He didn't really want to take it, but as much as his leg and head were hurting, it would be foolish not to.

"Ready for bed?"

He nodded, too tired to rise, and then hands pulled at him and he came up with them, swaying on his feet and letting Chris help him get his body and the crutches up the stairs.

"You gotta be tired," he told Chris, staring again at the dark bruising along his jaw. Chris looked like he felt.

"Am tired." Chris agreed softly as they neared the door to the bedroom. Chris's bedroom.

Vin eased the crutches out from under his arm, then leaned against the doorjamb, watching as Chris stepped into the room. The pain pill was kicking in--he was beginning to feel a soft fuzziness wash over him.

Chris turned, nodding toward him. "You comin' in?"

Like it was that easy.

Returning with the barest nod, Vin allowed his eyelids to slide shut. He didn't move away from the door, just let his head come to rest against the moulding. "May just fall asleep right here." And he felt like he could.

"Don't have t' sleep in here, Vin, not if you don't want to--"

"Nah, ain't that. I do want to...have wanted to, just--" he sighed, relieved to find the twin throbbing of his head and leg fading to a much more tolerable level and his body was ready to shut down for the night. Right now even the rug looked good.

Why was this the hardest part?

With a yawn, he pushed off the wall, stumbling awkwardly on one crutch as he moved forward. Hands wrapped him, Chris helping--not pushing, but prompting him to enter. They moved to the bed and he all but collapsed onto it, eyes closing the minute he hit the cool sheets.

"Vin, wait, let me get your shirt..."

Chris was undressing him...he should care. Should care he was now in Chris's room, in Chris's bed after so long. Should pay attention, but the pills were making him drowsy and he was just so dead tired...

"Chris--you think this really is all over?"

Chris nodded. "It's over," he whispered, tucking in blankets and crawling under the covers to pull VIn into his arms.

TEN

He awoke in the middle of the night, sitting up with a startled gasp, eyes wide to the pitch black. "Don't fuckin' touch me," he roared as hands set upon him. Bishop, he knew.

And then realized it wasn't as a soft howl of agony sounded in the dark.

"Chris!" The cry pierced through the terror that held him as he realized he'd inadvertently hit Chris in the face--in the jaw. Oh, Jesus. "I'm sorry...Chris, I'm so sorry." Rubbing Chris's shoulders to help ease the pain...Chris was rocking as he sat on the bed, face tight, hands clenched tightly into fists as he rode through the hurt.

"I'm sorry--"

Chris held up a hand, the rocking slowing. Vin sat deathly still, just staring in anguish, and hoping for the pain to ease.

"Sorry," he repeated, knowing his words were inadequate. Not sure Chris was even listening. "I'm so sorry...

Chris looked at him, the lines in his face relaxing enough Vin felt he could breathe again. "I didn't mean... I thought--I just thought you were--"

And then Chris was nodding, reaching for him. "I know. But I'm not him and you're not there."

Hands held him, one played lightly over his chest, and he settled into their embrace. And then he felt embarrassed. "I really am sorry--"

"You gotta stop saying that, Vin."

"Sorry," he chuckled softly, somewhat surprised to find he could still laugh. Bit by bit he tried to relax, methodically releasing the tension in each of his muscles, and becoming all too sharply aware of the hands that touched him. The one on his chest continued tracing over the flesh there...the other skated a slow path down his abdomen.

"Chris--" he said, feeling nothing short of awkward and uncomfortable--all of which seemed highly ludicrous in the face of him lying nearly naked next to Chris, and in the man's bed, no less. Not like he hadn't been there before. But still...

"Don't have to do anything, Vin. I just wanted to touch. Sorry--been a while..."

It had. And he wanted the same so often it had scared him. But now, after Bishop... "Don't know I'm ready for any of this."

"It's okay," Chris replied and then the hands left him.

He shivered from their loss. "Or maybe I am," he said, staring softly up into the dark. Funny it could be easier to say and do these things when he didn't have to meet Chris's eyes.

The hands returned.

They each traced one another's skin, lightly placed fingers mapping muscles and skimming planes that hadn't been touched in what seemed forever.

Vin wondered what was going through Chris's mind, but wasn't going to ask. At this point, he was just relieved he wasn't overpowered by images of Bishop--

Bishop tying him...

Bishop fondling him...

Bishop raping him with those...

Jesus, Tanner, don't think of that fucker now--

He let Chris take the lead; a lot of exhaustion, not so much hesitation and, if he'd admit it, the good amount of hurt to his body combining to leave him pretty much at the man's will and mercy.

Like he'd been with Bishop. Just like he'd been with Bishop...

"Stop," he said, horrified to realize he'd spoken that aloud. Chris pulled away from him as if he'd been stung and oh, God, that's not what he meant--not what he wanted at all. "Wait, Chris--"

For a prolonged second they both lay there, not touching. Not speaking. This wasn't right...

"It's fine, Vin." Chris's voice was soft in the dark, already pulling way and then he was up and out of the bed, heading toward the bathroom and Vin was left feeling like just the biggest fuckin' ass of all time...

Light spilled into the room from the bathroom as the door opened again, flicking off when Chris headed back to the room.

"Leave it on, Chris," Vin called out, suddenly finding himself needing to watch Chris's face--meet his eyes--and, as embarrassing as it really was, have the reassurance that it was truly Chris at his side. "Please."

"I can sleep in the other room, Vin, if that'd make you more comfortable--"

"No." Finally--something out of his mouth that he really meant to say. "I want you here, I do. I just...I need to take it a bit...slow."

And then Chris smiled, though Vin knew it had to hurt. That grin, that dip in his lower lip was showing and all Vin wanted to do was fill it with his tongue. He flipped back the covers, inviting Chris in.

+ + + + + + +

Waking on a Saturday morning with the warm rays of sunshine drifting lazily across the bed was about as close to perfect as Vin thought things might get. Add in the fact he was sprawled across Chris Larabee's bed and that pretty much sent him to Heaven.

Two months had passed since Bishop. Two months of him and Chris learning about one another all over again. Like a new lease. A fresh start.

It really was finally over.

It was late...and he never slept late. With a smile, he rose and stretched, the prior night's activities still felt in pretty much all his muscles, but it was a good ache. His leg still bothered him some, but all in all he felt pretty much back to normal. Figured his life was falling back to what was close to normal, too.

And sure enough Chris's mouth was back to working order. That brought a smile to his lips.

The sound of water in the shower had him grinning like a madman. It took only the conjured picture of Chris naked under that water for a fire to start in his groin, and he hopped out of bed and headed toward the sound.

"Here's Johnny," he called evilly as he walked into the bathroom and stuck his head inside the already steamed up shower doors.

Two arms reached out to yank him inside. He found himself face to face with the scowl of a bear. "Ain't you ever gonna learn to greet the mornin'?"

"After I've had a cup of coffee..."

"I hope that means I can expect things to start lookin' up later."

Chris was grinning at him, then. "Oh, I think you can find something starting to look up right now."

Vin wasn’t having too much problem in that area, either. He grinned back. "Don't think this shower's big 'nough for the both of us..." His swallowed his next words as hands turned him quickly around, his own hands now braced against the ceramic tile. Warm water sprayed his back and then stopped as even warmer flesh blanketed the area. Soft words slipped into his ear...

"You tryin' t' run me outta this shower, Tanner?"

"Just tryin' to get a rise out of ya, Cowboy."

"Oh, you got that," Chris said, "definitely."

Hands everywhere then, pulling, grasping, caressing water-slick skin, and Vin nearly fell to his knees with desire when Chris finally, slowly began to enter him. It hadn't been the longest session they'd had, but just as intimate...just as loving. And when he came, he came hard, crying out Chris's name just as Chris had called out his, and then they both fell against one another, panting and standing under the shared spray until their bodies calmed--until the lack of warm water forced them both out.

"Guess this means I'll have to finally be buying that bigger hot water heater."

"Only told y' to months ago...an' if that's supposed to be an invitation, I've heard better."

Chris slid behind him, arms wrapping around the towel at his waist. "But have you had better, is the more important question."

"Never better, Larabee." They dressed then, and Chris went downstairs to make coffee and something in the way of breakfast. Vin took his time getting dressed, eyes and then fingers tracing lightly over the faint scar on his calf. Sometimes it still burned...

But not now. Now, he felt wonderfully, happily content. Those weeks of pain becoming, if not exactly faint, then at least a fairly distant memory. Bishop hadn't surfaced, but then Vin didn't expect he would. Probably somewhere in China by now...and they could have him.

For now, he and Chris were quickly catching up on some lost time. Beginning again.

He startled some as Chris came in the room.

"Hey, you got a package delivered here."

"I did?"

"Yeah," Chris told him. "Found it outside the door when I went to get the paper."

They both looked at one another, then at the small, plainly wrapped box.

"I ain't opening it."

"Vin--"

"Chris, you know who it's from...I know who it's from..." And he did, as he knew Chris did as well. Sometimes that gut feeling was dead on.

"I'll open it then," Chris said and undid the paper. No return address, it had obviously been delivered by some sort of private courier. Inside was an unmarked white box.

"It's Bishop."

"You don't know that for sure."

He did. Nausea filled him and he wavered on his feet as he whispered, "I can smell him." That cologne...the box had to have been close to Bishop to smell that strongly of him.

Chris stared at him a long second, forehead furrowed until Vin nodded toward the box. Carefully, Chris opened the top. Inside was one of the handmade crystal play toys that Bishop had been so fond of.

With a look of concern, Chris handed it to Vin. "You okay?"

Vin nodded, watching as Chris then turned to go back downstairs. "I'm gonna make some calls," he explained. "Someone might have seen something..."

And then Vin looked in the box. There was a note stuck in the bottom. A chill raced through him as he unfolded the paper.

My dearest Vincent, it read, As a keepsake and reminder of all we could have...
all we did have...
all we will have...
Until that time,
I am forever yours,

T.

He threw the thing against the wall where it caught the sun and sparkled like diamonds as it shattered into thousands of tiny, shining prisms.

He was wrong.

It would never truly be over.

END

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