This story is intended as a companion piece to Carla's wonderfully emotional Careless Whisper, and that story really should be read first. It is also a companion piece to my story Windows to the Soul, which presents Chris's point of view.
Size: Approx. 115K
| Now Cain said to his brother Abel, "Let's
go out to the field." And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his
brother Abel and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, "Where is your brother Abel?" "I don't know," he replied. "Am I my brother's keeper?" - Genesis 4:8-9 |
NATHAN JACKSON
I'm feelin' guilty.Friday night, when Chris announced that Vin was gay, the only thing I could think about was how many times my unprotected hands had been covered in Vin's blood and other bodily fluids. Had I been exposed to HIV, AIDS, STDs, hepatitis, or who knows what else? Could I have exposed my wife and the children we hope to have someday to some unseen danger? I was scared shitless.
I wanted to call Rain -- needed to call -- but I knew I wouldn't be able to hide the fear and worry in my voice. As soon as she heard it, she'd be on her way home, and there was no way I was gonna interrupt her weekend away. I was just gonna have ta work through this on my own. Besides, at that moment, my brain was too fuzzy, too muddled, ta think straight. I took a coupla pills fer my throbbin' headache and went ta bed.
I fell asleep feelin' worried and afraid, and I woke up feelin' disgusted -- disgusted at myself. Of course I didn't get exposed to HIV or anythin' else from treatin' Vin! In the clear light of day and no longer under the influence of alcohol, it was obvious ta me I'd been overreactin' the night before.
Vin Tanner is one of the most aware men I know. Why, I remember a workshop a couple of months ago on new procedures for dealing with situations where bodily fluids are involved -- one of the hazards in our line of work. The consultant who ran the show started with a kind of interactive quiz -- twenty multiple choice questions -- to see what we knew goin' in. Now I consider myself pretty knowledgeable, what with my medical training and all, so I was pretty happy when I got eighteen right, but Vin scored higher than me. Hell, he got all twenty right -- best score out of the fifty or so people in the room. Folks tend ta underestimate Vin's intelligence 'cause of that drawl and his easygoing manner. His dyslexia don't help neither -- on that quiz, he used all the allotted time -- but he sure knew what he was doin'.
I asked him how he picked up all that medical stuff, and he said it was a carryover from his bounty huntin' days when he had a lot more hands-on experience with the people he was trackin' down. Today, o' course, he's our sharpshooter, so that puts him at a greater distance from the bad guys. Unfortunately, it seems that if he's involved with bodily fluids at a takedown these days, it's likely ta be his own. That boy sure has a flair fer findin' stray bullets with his own body!
Lookin' back today, o' course, I understand why he knows so much. Being gay means all that information is a matter of life and death fer him. Takin' the time ta learn it, though, tells me he knows how ta be careful, how ta look after hisself. And he ain't gonna do nothin' ta put his friends in danger neither -- I shoulda thought o' that Friday night when I was so upset, but I guess all the beer was cloudin' my judgment.
I been thinkin', too, 'bout how private Vin is. He ain't the type ta engage in meaningless one-night stands just fer the sake o' sexual release. No, Vin's not promiscuous -- he'd rely on his own hand or take a cold shower before he'd cruise the gay bars and pick someone up. Besides, he wouldn't wanna be seen in places like that, and on top o' that, he ain't got all that much free time, 'specially on the weekends, 'cause o' all the time he spends with all of us. I don't know all that much about Vin's past -- he ain't shared a whole lot in that area -- but I do know he had it bad growin' up on the streets. I imagine there was things happened ta him he'd just as soon forget. So Vin ain't gonna put himself at risk o' havin' those things happen again.
So Saturday mornin' I put aside all my fears from the night before, chastised myself fer bein' so stupid and selfish, and got on with what had ta be done. I had some errands I needed ta run, so the first thing I had ta do was take care of Rain's car, which was still in the hospital parkin' lot.
Ya see, Rain was supposed ta leave Friday afternoon fer some seminars bein' held at The Broadmoor in Colorado Springs. She'd been lookin' forward ta it fer weeks. The Broadmoor is kinda out of our league, but there was a special room rate, so she decided ta go early and stay the whole weekend -- three nights. She planned on meetin' up with some friends from her college days, includin' her med school roommate. So she was in a bit of a panic when she called me Friday afternoon and said her car wouldn't start. She was ready ta leave and didn't have time ta fuss with it -- if she didn't get goin' right away, she was gonna miss the first get-tagether with her old friends.
I told her ta call a cab and git down ta the Federal Buildin', and she could take my car, which is what she did. It actually worked out pretty good 'cause I got ta kiss her goodbye all over again. So that's how I come ta be ridin' with Josiah ta the saloon after work and why he drove me home afterwards. Now me and Josiah us'ally have lots ta talk about when we're tagether, but Friday night we was practic'ly silent. Guess Josiah musta been in shock, and there I was with all them baseless fears 'bout my own health, so it was a real quiet ride.
Anyways, I took a cab ta the hospital Saturday mornin' -- figgered I'd try startin' Rain's care myself before callin' a tow truck. Lo and behold, it fired up on the first try -- musta been a vapor lock or somethin' like that. So I was able ta get my errands done, and I did some heavy-duty shopping for Rain's birthday present. I know, her birthday's not until October, but I really wanta make it special. We're gonna go ta Vegas for a long weekend -- she knows that -- and I booked a room at The Venetian with a coupla packages at the Canyon Ranch SpaClub there -- that's gonna be a big surprise. They got this one program for couples that -- well, let's just say I'm really looking forward ta that weekend -- it'll be the honeymoon we never had. I picked out a watch for her, too, and it's bein' engraved. Yeah, Rain's gonna have a really special birthday!
I decided on havin' somethin' simple fer supper -- soup and a sandwich -- and decided ta eat it watchin' TV. Rain and me almost never do that -- suppertime gives us a chance ta talk about what we done durin' the day -- but I'd taped some shows on the Discovery Health channel, so I decided ta start watchin' 'em while I ate.
I was just about done eatin' when this show started on GLBT -- gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender -- teenagers. Talkin' about how all the hasslin' they get in school and sometimes at home can affect their self-esteem, makin' 'em hate their sexuality and makin' 'em two or three times more likely ta commit suicide than other teens.
It felt like I'd been punched in the gut or somethin'. Good Lord . . . Vin! I'd been so wrapped up in my own petty fears that when I finally rid my mind of them, I just went about my own business and never gave my friend a second thought. I dropped the sandwich I was eatin' -- no appetite all of a sudden -- and turned off the VCR and TV.
Ya call yerself Vin's friend? I chastised myself. What kinda friend are ya ta fergit about Vin so easy? The image of Vin as I'd seen him last came inta my mind -- standin' there in the saloon, lookin' at Chris with tormented eyes, sayin' Chris was a bastard, and then walkin' out with as much dignity as he could while all them others was hootin' and hollerin' at 'im. Lord, how he musta been sufferin'!
And I just sat there, doin' nothin', thinkin' only about myself. Didn't do no better on Saturday neither -- runnin' around town shoppin' and stuff as if I didn't have a care in the world -- and all the time, Vin . . . What about Vin? What had he been goin' through all day? What was he gonna do? Had he already started runnin'?
I jumped up, grabbed the phone, and called him. He didn't answer, though, so I left a message on his machine. Better late than never, right? Told him I was concerned and wanted ta help any way I could -- asked him ta call me back. I knew he wouldn't, and sure enough, he didn't. Why should he? I'd abandoned him, and I figger he's prob'ly been lumpin' me in with Chris.
When I finished callin' Vin, I called Chris ta let him know I wasn't gonna be at the cookout -- couldn't stand the idea of bein' around him just then. He was slurrin' his words, so I knew he'd been drinkin'. Typical Larabee behavior, but I don't guess he found much relief in the booze this time, not if his appearance this mornin' is anythin' ta go by. Looks like he's sufferin' one hell of a hangover!
I went back ta sittin' on the couch, thinkin' about Vin, and wonderin' if there was some way ta help him. Ya see, I really like Vin -- he's been a good friend in so many ways -- and I know Rain feels the same way. I'll also be eternally grateful ta Vin for savin' my life during a raid a few months ago. I never seen the guy lurkin' in the shadows behind me, but Vin did and took him out. Rain kissed him at our next get-tagether, and ya shoulda seen Vin blush!
The more I thought, the more I realized I shouldn't have been so shocked ta learn Vin is gay. That didn't come out quite right. Yes, I have ev'ry right ta be shocked that it's Vin who's gay, but I shouldn't have been surprised that one of us is gay. Does that make any sense? Statistics suggest that one in ten Americans is homosexual, and there's seven of us on the team. That oughta increase the odds that one of us would be gay, don't ya think? Sure seems that way ta me.
A few minutes after I sat down, the phone rang. I was hopin' it might be Vin, but I knew it wouldn't be. It was Rain, callin' much earlier than I expected. Can't tell ya how glad I was ta hear her voice! I figgered I could tell her there was a problem 'between Chris and Vin -- not all the details, mind ya -- and see what she had ta say, see if she had any advice. Never got the chance, though.
She was callin' 'cause she was all upset -- hell, she was madder'n a wet hen. Seems she was sittin' in a lounge at The Broadmoor havin' a drink while she waited fer a friend, and this couple came up and sat down at her table. They tried ta buy her a drink, and the next thing she knew, they were askin' her if she wanted to go up ta their suite later fer some kinda sex party. She let 'em know in no uncertain terms just what she thought about that idea, and they took off, but she saw 'em stoppin' at other tables later. She said some o' the folks they talked ta looked receptive, and she wondered what was gonna be happenin' that night.
Needless ta say, I didn't tell her any o' my troubles -- she couldn't've concentrated on what I was sayin'. I tried ta calm her down, told her ta take it easy, and relax with her friends -- wasn't nothin' she could do about it anyways. I even told her it was sort of a compliment -- her being so beautiful that couple wanted ta be with her. Guess she didn't quite see it my way, 'cause she got kinda sarcastic, thankin' me for all my help, and hung up. I prob'ly shoulda called her back right then, but I just wasn't up ta it. What she'd said just seemed so . . . trivial compared ta what was happenin' with Vin. Besides, I was gonna be callin' her Sunday night, and I figgered by then she'd be thinkin' it was all kinda funny after she tellin' the story ta her friends a few times.
And that's exactly how it turned out. Rain was kinda sheepish when I called Sunday -- said she'd been tired and had blown things all outta proportion. She told me she and her friends had had fun later makin' up stories about the couple and what was goin' on in their suite. I didn't tell her about what Chris had done though, 'cause I decided it was somethin' I had ta say face-ta-face and 'cause I wanted ta know more 'bout what Vin was gonna do. She'll be home when I get there after work today, so I'll talk ta her then.
Did a lotta thinkin' on Sunday after I went ta church and said some prayers. Can't say I was too happy 'bout Vin turnin' out ta be gay, but what Chris did bothered me more. He's our team leader, fer God's sake, so he's supposed ta be lookin' out fer all of us. And he always has been, at least up ta now. What the hell was he thinkin'? What the hell was he tryin' ta do? I mean, Chris and Vin been closer'n most brothers. That bond of theirs -- we all seen it -- but I sure as hell don't know how ta explain it.
Chris knows what it's like ta lose almost everything ya hold near and dear, and it took him more'n three years ta recover from that tragedy. Accordin' ta Buck, it's Vin who should get the most credit fer bringin' Chris back ta life. So I just can't understand why Chris turned on him like he did. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Vin told Chris he was in love with him -- so what? Why didn't Chris just tell 'im he wasn't interested? Why . . . why . . . why?
Okay, so maybe the rest of us should know that Vin's gay, but Chris should've just told us quietly, and he prob'ly should've had Vin's permission. But that ain't what he did. Oh no, Chris had ta be as nasty as all get out in what he said, and he had ta do it in public. What did he think was gonna happen? I mean, when ev'rybody in the saloon started carryin' on, Chris sat there lookin' shocked. How could he not know how folks was gonna react? And if it was just the alcohol talkin', what does that say about his judgment? How fit is he ta be team leader? He sure looks lousy this mornin' -- makes me wonder if I still wanta work with 'im.
Does Chris want Vin ta get out -- ta leave the team? Again, why not just tell 'im quietly? I don't imagine Vin would've put up much of a fight, and that way, Vin could've transferred ta another team or another city, whatever. Can't do that now -- too many people know, and they got contacts all over the country, so the news'll get out.
Of course, right now it looks like Vin is gonna try ta tough it out. He's here, and it looks like he's tryin' ta get some work done. But is he gonna stay? I wish I knew. Like I said, I like Vin, and I hope he stays, but I don't know what'll happen ta the team if he does. I mean, look what happened this mornin' at the end of the briefin' when we all turned our backs on Chris and walked out behind Vin -- couldn't be any plainer who we're supportin'.
All this thinkin' made my head hurt Sunday, and it's startin' ta do that today. Talked ta the others a little this mornin'. Buck and Ez spoke ta Vin over the weekend -- not that they had much of a conversation, if ya know what I mean -- but nobody's talked ta him yet today. Josiah greeted him this mornin', but all he did was nod ta us and sit down at his desk. Didn't say nothin' at the briefin' neither, but his eyes, when I finally seen 'em, said it all. Vin . . . Vin ain't really with us no more. His body's here and walkin' around, but his spirit . . . his spirit's not just broken -- it's gone.
Can't explain that. Friday night, just before Vin left the saloon, it was obvious he was in torment -- heartbroken and betrayed -- but he was also mad, and of course, he had ev'ry right ta be. So what happened? What the fuckin' hell could've happened on Saturday or Sunday ta destroy his spirit -- his soul -- so completely? And I hafta ask again, what does it mean fer the team?
I wish there was some magic pill, some miracle cure, that would heal Vin's shattered soul and bring him back to us, but there isn't. I almost wish he'd been shot or had the flu or something, 'cause then I'd know what ta do ta make 'im better, but this -- I ain't got a clue.
So here I sit -- guilty, helpless, uncertain of what the future holds. I hate these feelings, hate not feeling in control of my own life, but I don't know what I can do to change things, and that is the worst feeling of all.
JOSIAH SANCHEZ
I'm feeling guilty.I should have seen what was happening, should have anticipated what was going to happen. How did I miss it? How could I not see what's been right in front of me? I'm a profiler, for God's sake, with a degree in psychology, and I work with troubled teens at a shelter. I should've seen something, shouldn't I?
I heard what Chris Larabee was saying Friday night, but it didn't sink in right away. I heard all the words he was stringing together, but I couldn't comprehend the meaning of them. I couldn't get my brain to wrap around the words until I looked at Vin. The stricken expression on his face, the tormented eyes, the tense posture, the pleading words -- all pointed to the truth.
I'm not making sense, am I -- jumping into the middle of things. Let me start more or less at the beginning. All of us had noticed the sudden coolness between Chris and Vin last week, but for myself, I thought they'd had a fight over something trivial, but each was just too stubborn to admit being wrong. I was a little surprised Ezra didn't start a pool or something for when they would make up, but you just never know with that man -- probably figured he didn't want the two of them mad at him for betting on their private lives. Still, we all went to J. Watson's for drinks just like any other Friday. Just like any other Friday except Chris was drinking more than I'd ever seen before, and Vin was watching him -- watching him like the proverbial hawk.
And then Chris started talking, warning JD about being careful around Vin -- warning all of us, for that matter. Vin was begging, pleading with him to stop, but Chris just kept going -- said Vin had a secret, said Vin was in love with him and wanted to have sex with him. Chris sat there smirking, Vin was falling apart, and the rest of us just sat there looking back and forth between the two of them with our mouths hanging open in disbelief, shock, denial, and who knows what other emotions. What seemed to start as a big joke turned into something deadly serious in a matter of seconds.
Then Vin managed to pull himself together and walk out. The rest of the customers in the saloon -- fellow ATF agents, FBI, DEA, IRS, all manner of people from the Federal Building -- erupted in a torrent of abuse aimed at Vin -- vile names, comments, catcalls, you name it. Tom Barlow, that shit-for-brains sharpshooter from Team 3, threw a glass of beer at him, missing his head by inches.
Buck recovered first and told Chris to leave, to just get out of there and go home. In fact, we all got out of there pretty damned quick. None of us could've carried on a coherent conversation -- the situation was just too raw, our emotions too much on edge, too close to the surface. All I wanted to do was get home where I could think about what had happened without distractions. Unfortunately, I had promised Nathan a ride home -- Rain had picked up his car right after lunch because hers had broken down. We didn't exchange more than a half dozen words all the way to his house, but I was immeasurably relieved when he finally bade me good night -- I needed to be alone.
I craved solitude, but I didn't want to think. All kinds of questions and speculation were running through my mind, but I wasn't ready to sort them out yet. After I dropped Nathan off, I went to the Mission and took care of some paperwork. Some of the boys were watching a movie on TV, so I ordered a pizza and wings and joined them. I enjoy spending informal time with the boys -- it gives me a chance to evaluate how some of them are adjusting to this environment -- but Friday night it served as a useful distraction to take my mind off things I didn't really want to think about.
Eventually, I had to go home and get some sleep. I took a couple of acetaminophen and went to bed, where I couldn't escape my dreams, much as I wanted to. Thank goodness, I couldn't remember most of them when I woke up Saturday morning, but the ones I did were bad enough.
The first centered on a little brown mouse out for a quiet stroll on a moonlit night. Suddenly, a ferocious tiger pounced on the mouse, encircling it in a huge paw. The tiger laid down, and with its other paw, it began to nudge, push, and prod the doomed mouse with one of its claws. Each movement drew blood, and the little creature shook with terror. Sometimes the tiger released the mouse and batted it back and forth between its paws, sometimes letting its victim stagger a short distance away -- only to snatch it back up again. The torment seemed to go on forever, but eventually the tiger released the mouse one more time, and it just lay there, resigned to its fate. The cat finally showed some mercy and gobbled the mouse up.
In the second dream, a young wolf, running free through a forest, was suddenly caught in a vicious leg trap. He pulled and tugged and tugged and pulled but couldn't get away. Desperate, he started gnawing away at his leg and finally chewed it through, winning his release. On three legs, bleeding, and in agony, he made his way back to his pack, needing the comfort of his family. The leader, the alpha wolf, took one look and leaped for his throat, and the rest of the wolves joined in, fangs slashing and tearing. Within moments, the poor young wolf was lying dead -- killed by those he trusted the most -- and that's when I woke up shaking.
It didn't take a genius, or a psychologist for that matter, to figure out what my mind was saying in light of what happened at the saloon. The tiger and the pack leader represented Chris, while the mouse and the young wolf stood for Vin. The second dream was more troubling than the first though, because my subconscious was showing me what my conscious mind didn't want to see -- that all of Team 7, not just Chris, had betrayed Vin. Chris was the worst offender, but the rest of us are at fault as well.
Not one of us stood up to support or defend Vin -- not one of us followed him to offer comfort. Yes, we were in shock, but that's no excuse. He's our friend -- our brother -- and we let him down. I wonder what Vin saw on our faces that night as he stood there begging Chris to stop. Did our expressions inadvertently make him believe we were supporting Chris? Does he believe he's lost us, too? God help him if that's the case.
I spent the rest of the weekend thinking -- after those dreams, there was no way to avoid it. I did call Vin Saturday afternoon, but he wasn't picking up, so I had to talk to his machine. Not satisfactory, but I had to let him know that I was thinking about him, that I cared for him, that as far as I was concerned, nothing had changed.
That was a lie, however, and Vin would know it. Things have changed, and there's no way around that fact. Chris has betrayed his best friend in a particularly egregious fashion, and I imagine the rest of us are wondering if -- or maybe when -- he'll do the same thing to us. Vin, the most private of men, has had his greatest secret revealed to the world by the one man who should have most protected him. Good Lord, how could Chris do that?
I also called Chris because there was no way I could go out to his ranch on Sunday. I told him there were things that needed to be done at the Mission. Not a lie per se -- there are always things that need doing there -- and I can't help it if Chris inferred that I would be there doing them. I didn't go to the Mission, of course -- I had some heavy-duty thinking to do.
I tried hard to avoid my thoughts on Saturday -- ran errands, wrote letters, balanced my checkbook -- you name it; I did everything I could to not think about Friday night. It worked for a while, but I knew it couldn't work forever. I thought about calling the rest of the team and suggesting we meet on Sunday, but I decided against doing that.
After all, what could we do? There seemed little point to our discussing something over which we had no control. The damage was done -- I knew that by Monday, everyone in the Federal Building would be aware of what happened and know that Vin was gay. The next move is Vin's -- only he can decide if he'll stay or go. He's here in the office right now and doing his job, but only he knows if that's going to continue.
I want Vin to stay with the team. I want him to fight for the life he's carved out for himself here in Denver. He's a good man -- I've seen so many examples of that since he joined the team. He's had such a hard life -- losing his mother when he was so young, getting shuffled from one foster home to another, battling to survive on the streets -- and he's overcome all of it. Add homosexuality to the equation, and it's a wonder he's even here at all.
Up to now, there's been no bitterness -- just a calm acceptance of his lot in life -- when anyone else would have been raging at the unfairness of it all. All of us in Team 7 worked very hard to assure him of our friendship, but it was Chris who made the biggest difference in his life, who shared one defining moment with him and created a bond I firmly believed only death could sever. And I wasn't even sure that death could truly separate them.
Now, a few words carelessly spoken by Chris have destroyed that bond -- that bond we all thought was unbreakable. Chris clearly regrets what he did and is suffering -- I could see it in his eyes when he looked at Vin during this morning's briefing -- but his words can't be taken back. No apology can make up for Chris's betrayal or for the havoc those words will cause -- have already caused -- in Vin's life.
I know that Vin's first instinct must have been to run, and I was surprised when he showed up for work this morning. Frankly, I think he is so lost, he doesn't know what else to do. I saw his eyes this morning, and my heart ached for that wounded young man. It was obvious he believes he's lost everything -- there was absolute emptiness in those expressive blue eyes. If I hadn't already known who I would support -- Chris or Vin -- my decision would have been made right then and there. Vin is a lost soul, and something must be done to bring him home.
It's also obvious to me that something else has happened since Friday. When Vin called Chris a bastard and walked out of the saloon, his eyes were snapping, and his rage at Chris's betrayal was plain to see. Today, that rage is gone -- everything living is gone from those eyes. Did he go to see Chris, or did Chris go to him? There's no way to know -- neither of them is talking. Whatever it was, it was the final nail in the coffin of Vin's spirit.
After much contemplation on Sunday, I realized I shouldn't have expected to detect Vin's homosexuality. He's had too many years of hiding it to allow any outward signs. The same goes for his feelings for Chris -- he never expected them to be reciprocated, so he never let anything show. Their friendship -- their bond -- was too important to him to put it at risk, so I realized I couldn't have known.
What Chris did, though, is another story entirely. Vin told him he was in love with him. So what? I mean, Chris could have yelled at him, could have let him know in no uncertain terms just how he felt, could have punched him, and that would have been the end of it. Vin would have made sure of that, would have made sure Chris didn't feel uncomfortable around him, because their friendship was so important to Vin. Why then did Chris have such an extreme reaction?
The more I thought about it -- and I thought about it a lot -- the more I remembered -- Chris touching Vin, watching him, spending more time with him. Hindsight is 20/20, but I should have seen it. Chris's subconscious feelings were finding expression, and he didn't even know it was happening -- not until Vin's actions opened his eyes. I should have seen it, though -- I really should have seen it! If I had, I could have talked to him, could have given him the opportunity to try and resolve his conflicted feelings. Because that's obviously how he feels, how he felt Friday night. His subconscious mind was exhibiting feelings towards Vin while his conscious mind was denying -- and continues to deny -- those very feelings. He is obviously feeling insecure and feels he will be a lesser man in his own eyes if he gives in to his feelings for Vin -- for a man. By 'outing' Vin, he was punishing Vin for the feelings he harbored himself.
I cannot absolve myself of the guilt I feel for missing what Chris was doing, but at the same time, I cannot excuse Chris for betraying Vin as he's done. He's acted as if everything was Vin's fault, yet Vin did nothing wrong. It was Chris who was giving off a scent, laying down a trail, baiting a trap, whatever image you choose. And Vin -- God help him! -- Vin picked up on it, followed it, fell into it. How could he not? To him, it would have looked as if everything he ever wanted, everything he'd ever dreamed of, and everything he'd never believed he could have, was suddenly within his grasp -- was his for the asking. Of course he told Chris Larabee he loved him -- he couldn't have helped himself if his soul depended on it.
If his soul depended on it! It did, didn't it? Now his soul is lost, and Vin's been cast adrift. The Bible tells us that Cain said to God, 'Am I my brother's keeper?' The answer, of course, is yes, and Vin is my brother. I cannot condemn him for who he chooses to love -- love is too rare a commodity in this turbulent world.
This morning, five of us rallied around our shattered sharpshooter, trying to let him know we were watching his back, but he's so wrapped up in the wreckage of his life that I'm not sure he even noticed. If I called his name right this minute, I'm certain he wouldn't respond because his mind is so tightly focused on what he's doing, on trying to maintain control. I imagine that if he allows himself to be distracted, his . . . his anguish will take over, and he'll run screaming from the building. I wish there was some arcane philosophy that would heal Vin's shattered soul and bring him back to us, but there isn't.
So here I sit -- guilty, helpless, and uncertain of what the future holds. I hate these feelings, hate not feeling in control of my own life, but I don't know what I can do to change things, and that is the worst feeling of all.
EZRA STANDISH
I am feeling guilty.Friday night's fiasco and its current aftermath -- Mr. Larabee looking like death warmed over and Mr. Tanner just looking like death -- are my responsibility. Not totally, of course, but I could have prevented it, you know. I could have prevented this whole thing, and all of our lives would have proceeded along their usual paths. I did nothing, however, and now seven lives have been disrupted. Yes, I said seven -- my own life is among those experiencing upheaval, and that's something I never anticipated.
Not long after I joined Team 7, I made a serious mistake. We were in the middle of an operation, one in which I played a crucial role. At a critical time, I panicked, and I . . . I retreated to a place of greater safety. No, I need to be honest here, even with myself. I ran away that night, and as a result, Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson were placed in serious jeopardy. The only reason they weren't hurt was because Mr. Tanner performed his usual magic, but they could have been because of my actions.
Let me say in my own defense that I did go back and almost immediately found myself in a most vulnerable position. Again, though, Mr. Tanner -- our guardian angel -- was there and saved my life. When it was all over, Mr. Larabee took me aside. I could see the fury in his eyes, in his body language, and I must admit, I was positively terrified. An enraged Chris Larabee is most formidable -- like a force of nature. Would he hit me, sack me, scream at me -- I expected any or all of those reactions from him. Instead, he pinned me in place with that laser-like glare of his and quietly warned me to never let him down again. That's all -- that was it -- one short sentence, but it let me know he could still put his trust in me.
I vowed to myself that I would never let him down again, and I never have -- until now. Now, though, I have utterly failed not only Mr. Larabee but the whole team, especially Vin Tanner, and he's the one I regret the most. Of all the members of Team 7, Mr. Tanner is the one to whom I feel the closest. True, he has no fashion sense -- he's downright scruffy at times -- is poorly educated thanks to his severe dyslexia, and is rude and crude on occasion, but he has a poet's soul. He is absolutely honest, which I find most refreshing, and when he gives his trust, as he has done to the six of us, it is a truly wondrous gift to be treasured and cherished.
How, you ask, did I fail these men who are such an important part of my life? I failed them because I knew -- I knew what was going on, and I did nothing to prevent the damage that has been done. I recognized Mr. Tanner's sexual orientation soon after he joined the team, but it did not bother me or affect me in any way so I ignored it. Gradually, however, I began to observe certain signs, and I became aware that our most excellent sharpshooter was in love with our esteemed leader. Mr. Tanner hid his feelings very well, and none of the others caught on, but remember, like any good undercover agent -- and I am good -- my continued well-being is dependent upon my careful observation of the people around me.
So, the others did not have a clue, but I knew. They say that knowledge is power, and I enjoyed that aspect of the whole situation. I am sure I would never have used the information I possessed against Mr. Tanner, but I have always exulted in knowing something that others do not, so I waited and continued to watch.
I also know Mr. Tanner well enough to understand that he entertained no hopes of ever winning Mr. Larabee's affection. He knew his love was unrequited and always would be, but he had the strength to live with that. Mr. Tanner has led a very difficult life, a life with very little love in it, a life replete with abuse and cruelty, and yet, he has come through it all as a good, even a fine, man.
So I kept watching, and about two months ago, I began to detect subtle changes in the relationship between Mr. Tanner and Mr. Larabee. It was not Mr. Tanner, though, who was altering his behavior -- it was Mr. Larabee. I noticed that he was watching Mr. Tanner, taking in details, when he thought no one was looking. They were spending more time together, and it was usually at Mr. Larabee's instigation. I noticed, too, that Mr. Larabee was touching Mr. Tanner -- sitting close by his side in the saloon or resting his hand on Mr. Tanner's chair when he stood by his desk and letting his arm rest against Mr. Tanner's back. Oh, I know, they are best friends, and each had been instrumental in healing the other's soul, but this went beyond anything that had gone before with them.
I realize now that Mr. Larabee had no clue about what he was doing, but at the time, I really thought -- perhaps even hoped -- that he was using his behavior to sound out Mr. Tanner's willingness to accept a more intimate relationship. I saw Mr. Tanner recognize what was happening -- saw the hope that was born in his eyes. And I -- heaven help me! -- I found it amusing and simply sat back to enjoy the show.
I should have spoken to Mr. Larabee -- should have warned him -- but I did not. If I was the one who told him I loved him, he would have punched me -- or maybe shot me, as he often threatens -- and carried on as if nothing had happened, and I would have gotten over it, moved on, and found someone else to love.
Unfortunately, Mr. Tanner is not like me. He loves Mr. Larabee with his whole being -- heart and soul -- and when his hopes were raised, it was inevitable he would reveal his secret to the object of his affection, and he did. Mr. Larabee reacted badly and began to distance himself from Mr. Tanner. We all sensed that something was wrong, but I was the only one who had a clue as to what might have happened.
And still I did nothing. What did I expect? Did I really think Chris might contemplate a physical relationship with Vin? I'd like to think I did. I'd like to think I hoped that Chris's subconscious desires would win out and bring happiness to two men who so richly deserve to find it. I'm afraid, though, that I am not that noble.
So I kept watching, and I was there Friday night when Chris attacked -- when he turned Vin's vulnerability back against him and utterly destroyed his best friend's life. I just sat there and did nothing -- nothing when Vin begged Chris to stop and nothing when Vin made a dignified exit. I did not say anything either -- not to Chris and not to the other denizens of the saloon who hurled insults at Vin as he left. By my inaction and my silence, I became complicit with Chris -- a kind of accessory after the fact, if you like.
I just went home and retired to bed with no second thoughts. Saturday afternoon I decided to call Vin. Surprisingly, he took my call, and I laid on all the platitudes -- 'Nothing has changed with your teammates;' 'I still feel the same about you;' 'You are still an important part of the team;' 'I am still your friend' -- on and on ad nauseum. He thanked me for my concern and hung up, and I patted myself on the back for standing by my friend.
I really thought I had done all that was necessary. As you can see, I did not overly exert myself in any way. After all, it was Saturday, and there were things I wanted to do, so I shoved any further thoughts of Vin out of my mind. Until that night. I spent the evening with an informant -- at a somewhat disreputable gay bar called The Pole -- his choice, not mine -- and when I returned home, I poured myself a snifter of my favorite brandy and put some Mendelssohn on my sound system.
As I sat there relaxing, I experienced what I can only describe as a flashback to my telephone conversation with Vin, and the realization of what I had done hit me like a runaway train. The things I'd said -- 'You are still on the team' and 'I am still your friend' -- they made it sound as if Vin was the villain of the piece, and I was forgiving him. Dear God, he is the victim, and I . . . I should have been the one asking for his forgiveness. That is when I knew how much I had failed my friends -- and when I realized just how much they all meant to me.
I immediately tried to call Mr. Tanner, but I only reached his machine. Either he was out at some dingy bar getting drunk or he was sitting at home getting drunk and using his machine to screen his calls. I sincerely hoped it was the latter because I was most concerned about his vulnerable state. This city is not always kind to people in that position.
I know how flabbergasted Mother and others who know me would be at the suggestion that I was suffering from a guilty conscience, but believe me, I was, and it seriously disrupted my sleep that night.
After breakfast on Sunday, I called Mr. Larabee and made my excuses for that afternoon's cookout. I could not stomach the thought of spending time right then with any of my teammates, and apparently they also felt the same way -- no one attended. So, I spent the day quietly at home, but I could not prevent myself from speculating about what was likely to happen on Monday. My conclusion? Mr. Tanner would quit the team and leave Denver, thus putting an end to the 'Magnificent 7,' as our team has often been called.
Imagine my surprise -- my shock -- when Mr. Tanner reported to work this morning! The five supporting players in this drama, including me, were in the office early, and we were a somber, subdued group as we waited for the next act. Mr. Larabee showed up shortly before 8:30 -- late for him -- looking apprehensive and ill, probably extremely hung over. Served him right! None of us greeted him -- in fact, in a show of unscripted solidarity, we turned our backs on him -- and he quickly sought the safety of his private office.
We settled back to wait and wait and wait, and just moments before nine o'clock, Mr. Tanner unexpectedly appeared. Without a sound, he was just . . . there, not saying a word, just ducking his head when we greeted him. He immediately sat at his desk and got to work. So much for all my speculation -- he hadn't run, and if he was getting to work, he probably was not quitting the team -- at least not right away. The rest of us grinned at each other and got on with the tasks at hand -- our mutual relief would have been obvious to anyone observing us.
So why am I sitting here at my desk feeling so bad only an hour later? Because ten minutes ago, our regular Monday briefing ended. Mr. Tanner sat, silent, head bowed, through the entire meeting, but when it ended, he looked up, gazed directly at Mr. Larabee for a moment, and walked out of the conference room, still without speaking.
You've heard the phrase 'dead man walking?' Well, that is what I saw when I looked into Vin Tanner's face -- empty eyes, dead eyes -- the face of a man whose soul has been destroyed -- the face of a man with nothing left to live for. I felt as if I had taken a solid blow to the solar plexus because I knew I shared the blame with Chris Larabee.
Acts one and two have played out. Act three has now begun, but how will it all end? I have no idea. Mr. Tanner is at his desk, seemingly oblivious to our presence in the bullpen; Mr. Larabee has again sought the security -- the isolation -- of his office, and the rest of us are sitting here, pretending to work, lost in our own thoughts. We have shown our sympathy for Mr. Tanner and our antipathy for Mr. Larabee, but what happens next? Again, I have no idea -- not a clue.
These men are my family. It's as simple as that, and I never really knew it until this weekend -- never really knew until it might already be too late. So here I sit -- guilty, helpless, uncertain of what the future holds. I hate these feelings, hate not feeling in control of my own life, but I don't know what I can do to change things, and that is the worst feeling of all.