Disclaimer: They do not belong to me and I am not making any money from this fic. This is just for fun.
Kudos: I wish to send special thanks to Giselle and SueN for all their invaluable advice, beta work and encouragement. A big hug to both of you ladies.
Notes: This fic was inspired by an episode of Without A Trace. As I was watching it, I kept thinking of Chris and Vin. So I threw out the WAT guys and brought in Mag7 fellows. The following story is the result.
Feedback: Yes, but please be kind. This is my first attempt at writing.
The blue jeep rolled through the rain soaked streets and came to a stop in front of the rundown house. Bounty hunter Vin Tanner stepped out of his jeep and walked up the porch steps to the front door, knocked and called, "Open up, Frank!"Silence followed and Vin pounded on the door again. "I said open up!" he shouted. "Don't make me kick the damn door down, Frank, I've got my good boots on!"
Suddenly the porch light went out, triggering Vin's survival instincts. He jumped to the side of the door as shots rang out. Yanking his gun from his holster, he returned shots through the window and door even as he spun himself out of the line of fire. Still the bullets came too close and he knew he had to get away. Commanded entirely by instinct now, he threw himself over the porch railing, but went hurtling through it instead as a bullet ripped through his shoulder. Jarred by the pain, he hit the ground hard, rolled and managed to get to his feet. Bullets continued whizzing around him like bees and, driven by the adrenaline pumping through his system, he ran for his jeep.
Breathing hard, his heart hammering furiously against his ribs, he pulled himself into the jeep, started it up and sped away from the area. The pain in his shoulder was finally flaring to life, but he knew he had to get to safety before he could see how badly he was hit.
But first he'd have to get to safety. He drove wildly, turning the jeep down every side street he could find, but couldn't lose the headlights coming up behind him. A heavy sense of resignation sank through him. He'd have to ditch the jeep and try to lose his pursuers on foot before he could get help. But being on foot and wounded would leave him vulnerable. He bit his lower lip and tried to think through his options, but pain and blood loss were making him queasy and lightheaded.
He spied a wooded area up ahead and checked his rearview mirror again. The headlights were getting closer. As much as he hated it, he knew he had no choice, knew he couldn't defend himself at this point and probably wouldn't be able to drive for much longer. Left with no other options, he pulled over, crawled out of the jeep and headed in a stumbling run for the woods and safety. As he ran, he tried to piece together what had happened.
He'd had a tip that Frank Simmons was holed up at that address, but was certain it hadn't been Frank shooting at him. Frank's crime was minor and this type of action had been unwarranted. With a sick feeling, he realized his last days at the U.S. Marshal's Service were finally catching up with him. As he moved into the safety of the trees, he heard gunfire.
m7 ~ m7 ~ m7
Chris Larabee frowned as his team and the DPD checked out the scene in front of the house. There'd been one helluva shootout here. Along with neighbor's statements, the window was shattered, with glass strewn inside and outside the dwelling. The front door was riddled with bullet holes and patches of blood darkened the porch and lawn. A section of porch railing had been broken away and now lay on the lawn. Someone had been shot, but who? Buck Wilmington walked up to Chris and said, "Well, we know vaguely what happened here. Seems a bounty hunter named Vin Tanner was trying to nab a skip who'd missed his court date. A Frank Simmons, also wanted for the murder of a cop named Mike Harmon a couple of weeks ago."
Chris looked up at Buck with interest and said, "I know Tanner. He and I did a couple of stakeouts together when he was with the Marshal's Service. It was an interagency operation." He turned his thoughts back to the present situation and frowned again. "What was Simmons on bond for?"
Buck checked his notes again. "Receiving stolen property."
Chris stared at Buck in confusion. "You telling me that this Simmons went from receiving stolen property to killing a cop? That's a helluva leap. They sure it was him?"
Buck smoothed out his mustache and said, "Well, there were witnesses. Let's see, three cops - Harmon, Joe Taylor and Steve Williams - were sent to arrest Simmons. According to the reports, Simmons shot Harmon in the back and escaped. Taylor and Williams tried to apprehend Simmons, but he got away from them."
"What?" Chris exclaimed. Buck shrugged and Chris shook his head, not liking the sound of it. "Let me get this straight. A perp shoots a cop in the back in front of two other cops and still gets away? That just doesn't make any sense. And if it doesn't make sense..."
"It didn't happen," Buck finished.
Both ATF agents shook their heads and shrugged. Then Chris said, "You check out those two officers and I'll try to find Tanner. If he was shot, he'll have to surface soon. Judging from the amount of blood left behind, it was more than a graze. I know a place or two he might be holed up. Since no gunshot wounds have been reported tonight, I'd say that both Simmons and Tanner have gone to ground."
JD walked up to the two men and said, "DPD found Tanner's jeep with the tires shot out. They've taken it to the impound yard. I'm on my way over there now to check it out."
Chris nodded. "Thanks JD. Call me if you find anything."
Nathan joined the group. "The blood here matches Tanner's type, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's his."
Larabee felt his stomach contract. He and Tanner had hit it off the few times they had worked together; he'd even tried to get Vin to apply with the ATF. Something had happened, however, and the next thing Chris had heard was that Tanner had left the Marshal's Service and was bounty hunting. They'd lost contact after that, much to his regret. He had really liked the young man. Tanner's calm, quiet manner and wry humor had reached some place and filled some need in him he hadn't even known existed.
Chris shrugged inwardly and sighed as he rounded up his team and headed back to their office to assimilate the information they had collected.
m7 ~ m7 ~ m7
Buck Wilmington put down the phone and stepped into Larabee's office. Chris leaned back in his chair, raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's up?"
Buck made himself comfortable and said, "Seems Tanner left the Marshal's Service under a cloud. For some reason, he was loaned to the DPD. While he was there some weapons went missing, but nothing was ever proved. He wasn't the only one connected to the missing guns, but he was the only one to resign. Rumor has it that he's dirty."
Chris shook his head firmly, remembering the man he'd seemed to know so well almost from the first. "No, I don't believe that for a second." He arched a brow at Buck as a thought occurred to him. "Stolen weapons? Isn't that our bailiwick?"
"Yep, I think it is," Buck answered with a knowing smile.
Chris grinned back at him. "Let's combine the shooting at the house with the missing guns. Lift a few rocks and see what crawls out."
Buck grimaced. "And what if this Tanner guy is dirty? What then?"
Chris shook his head again, refusing to even consider that possibility. "Buck, that's just not gonna happen. The man I worked with was not a dirty cop."
"You only worked with him a few times, " Buck warned quietly. "No way you could really know him, Chris."
But Chris knew he did, though he couldn't have said how. "Buck, let's just try and clear this up, find out what happened and why."
"Okay," Buck said unhappily, worried that his old friend was setting himself up for a big disappointment.
m7 ~ m7 ~ m7
Vin knew he was in deep trouble. Besides the extreme pain in his shoulder, he was on foot. He stood in the shadows of the alley across from his home in Purgatorio and spied someone watching his apartment. That way was out. Worry seeped through him. He thought the wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding but he wasn't sure. He knew he needed help but didn't know where to go for it. A hospital was out of the question. A gunshot wound would have to be reported, and that would lead the people he was running from right to him. And he didn't want to involve his neighbors, most of whom were elderly and had troubles of their own. Since he'd always been a loner, he couldn't think of anyone to call for help. He hugged his injured arm to his body as he moved on up the street.
Trying to ignore the pain as he considered his few options, he suddenly thought of Chris Larabee. He wondered briefly if he could get in touch with the man, if he could even trust him. Would Chris turn him in? Just as quickly, he dismissed that thought. Larabee was ATF, for God's sake! Even if he didn't turn him in, it just wasn't fair to involve the man in his problems. But the nagging thought remained. He knew with instinctive certainly that he could trust Chris. He also knew he needed help and he needed it now.
Vin thought back to the man. He and Larabee had hit it off right away. In fact, from the first day, it was like they'd known each other all their lives. It was the strangest thing. The first stakeout they'd shared, they hadn't talked a lot, but talk wasn't necessary. Oh, they had a little quiet conversation to get acquainted, but then had lapsed into a comfortable silence. Their second meeting was much the same. Quiet conversation and comfortable silence. A few times after the stakeout they had gotten together for a beer or two and once had gone to dinner. It had been the start of a great friendship.
Then things had happened and he had lost touch with Chris. He regretted that. He'd really liked the man. Despite the differences in their ages, they had a lot in common. He felt more comfortable with Chris than he ever had felt with anyone else, and, since they had lost touch, had felt an emptiness in his life he'd never felt before. Like a part of himself was missing.
Now he wondered if he could get close enough to Chris to talk to him. A wry smile teased his lips. At gunpoint maybe. Of course, in his condition a ten-year-old kid could take his gun away, and Chris was certainly not a kid.
He sighed and leaned wearily against the stone wall behind him. Maybe he could call Chris on his cell. Yeah, that was what he'd do. Trying to focus, Vin looked at his watch. It was nearly 7 pm. Chris would probably be on his way home. Staying in the shadows, he moved down the street slowly until he was at the corner tavern. The owners would help him, but he couldn't bring trouble to their door. He quietly slipped past and stopped in his tracks. There on the corner sat a big black Dodge truck with a familiar figure at the wheel. The door opened and Vin watched in disbelief as Larabee slid out of the truck and started walking toward him.
"Hey, cowboy, I've been looking for you," Chris said quietly.
Shocked, Vin slid down the wall he was leaning against, hitting the pavement just as blackness overtook him.
m7 ~ m7 ~ m7
Vin edged towards wakefulness, but, as was his way, he took stock of his surroundings before opening his eyes. He was on a bed, but not in a hospital. He wasn't in jail, either. He wasn't alone; he could hear people talking. He wasn't tied up or handcuffed, so he figured he wasn't in hostile company. His memory started returning as he became more aware.
Chris! His eyes flew open.
"Mornin', pard." Chris smirked at him. "I was beginning to think you were gonna sleep all day."
"Where am I?" Vin asked. He tried to sit up, but stopped as sharp pain cut through his arm and shoulder. He gasped and winced. "Aw hell," he muttered.
"Hold it there, you aren't goin' to be using that arm for a few days."
Vin looked over at the new voice and saw a tall black man looking back at him with a friendly smile. Chris introduced them.
"Vin, this is Nathan Jackson. He's a member of my team and, lucky for you, an EMT. One of the best, in fact."
Nathan nodded and said. "You need to take it easy, Vin. I just cleaned and bandaged that shoulder. You were lucky that the bullet went all the way through."
Chris could see confusion in Vin's face and wanted to ease it. ""You're at my ranch," he explained quietly. "You're safe here."
"Your ranch?" Vin repeated dully, trying to sit up again.
Nathan and Chris moved quickly to help him. Once they had him sitting up and leaning against the headboard, Chris continued. "After you passed out, I called Nathan and brought you out here. He fixed up your shoulder. You're going to be all right, but you do have to take it easy for a few days."
Touched that a man he didn't know would show him such kindness, he smiled at the EMT and nodded. "Much obliged," he said softly.
Nathan nodded back and smiled warmly.
Chris studied Vin for a few minutes, then asked, "What's goin' on here, Vin?" Chris waited for him to answer, but saw doubt and wariness in his eyes. Still gripped by the strange need to help this man, he leaned forward and said with an intense softness, "I've got my team working on the shooting at the house, but I need to know what else is goin' on here. I can help you, Vin, but only if you trust me."
Vin sighed heavily and wondered if he really could trust these men. He'd trusted before, and it had landed him in this mess. But then his eyes met Chris's and he knew without a doubt he could trust this man. He glanced at Nathan and saw only kindness and concern gazing back at him. Vin was not a man to turn his problems over to others, but at the moment he couldn't see he had much choice. He needed their help and they seemed willing to give it. He sighed again and began.
"A few years ago I was wounded on the job and, as a result, I was loaned out to the DPD Evidence Holdin' Locker. I started noticin' things missin' like firearms or drugs with no paperwork to explain it. Mike Harmon, the cop killed, was workin' with me. When I mentioned it ta him, he kinda ignored me, but agreed that some paperwork might be missin'. We investigated a bit, but I got the feelin' he wasn't really all that interested."
He shrugged his good shoulder and went on.
"A couple a months later I went back ta my job. Then one day Mike come ta see me and said he was bein' hassled. Asked if I'd look further into the problem with him. I agreed and we went back over the inventory and compared it with the paperwork. There were a lot of discrepancies. Lots a guns missin', some drugs, but not much. Mostly guns."
Vin frowned and looked from Chris to Nathan, then continued. "Mike told me he was goin' to his boss with this info." He winced and ducked his head. "Next I heard, he'd been shot and killed. Shot in the back, can ya imagine? Then things started ta happen ta me. Reports I turned in would go missin'. I was accused of plantin' a gun on a suspect. Even got shot at outside my apartment."
Chris raised his eyebrow quizzically.
"Weren't like that, cowboy." Vin gave a half smile and explained, "They weren't trying ta hit me, jest scare me. If I had the sense ta be scared, that is. Then I was suspended fer plantin' that gun even though everybody knew it weren't me. So I decided ta quit."
Chris frowned at him and Vin shrugged. "A resignation looks better than a firin'. I called my old partner and went back to bounty huntin'. It's safer." He frowned thoughtfully. "Two other cops were with Mike when he was killed. A Joe Taylor and Steve Williams. I heard talk that Frank Simmons did it, but he's not the type. I figure he saw it go down and ran. I got a tip that Frank was holed up at that house." He exhaled sharply, irritated with himself for missin' the obvious. "I was set up!"
"Yeah," Chris said, "we figured that out." He turned to Nathan. "Call Buck on his cell and give him this information. I'll get Ezra and Josiah checking out those two cops."
The investigation was moving forward.
m7~m7~m7~
It was late afternoon when Vin woke up. He found the bathroom and splashed water on his face. His shoulder was stiff and sore, but the sling Nathan had given him helped control some of the pain. He went in search of Chris.
Chris sat in his den, working at his computer, when he heard Vin coming down the hallway. He smiled, turned his chair around and leaned back as Vin walked into the room.
"Hey, cowboy," Vin drawled, "how's the case comin' along?"
Chris smiled. "Hello to you, too. How are you feeling?" As Vin answered him, Chris watched him with interest. He couldn't imagine why this young man roused such strong feelings in him. Feelings he'd rather not bring to the surface. Feelings that had come out of the blue. And there was his answer. He had some strong feelings for Vin and they were at the surface whether he liked it or not.
Chris answered. "The case is coming along, pard. We've got a couple of good leads and we know where Simmons is hiding. Feel like helping us round him up?"
"Oh hell yes!" Vin answered.
Chris shut off his computer, stood up and said, "Good! Lets go."
m7~m7~m7
Not for the first time, Buck Wilmington wondered what kind of hold Vin Tanner had over Chris Larabee. That Chris trusted Vin was amazing in itself, but Chris seemed to trust Tanner completely. Never once questioned his story, just accepted it as gospel. He had known Chris for several years, been as close to him as friends could be; brothers, almost. But Chris and Vin had connected somehow in a way Buck just could not understand.
And because he was worried about what it might cost Chris if Vin did turn out to be dirty, Buck had tried to prove the bounty hunter wrong. But his investigation had proved just the opposite.
The two law officers mentioned in their reports, Taylor and Williams, lived way above their means, with no visible extra income to compensate. Neither appeared to have any debt, but both drove luxury cars and owned large homes. How that had escaped their supervisor's scrutiny, Buck couldn't quite figure out. That would definitely merit another look see by higher ups. This could really get ugly before it was completely over and Buck hated ugly.
He also hated investigating police officers. He had been a DPD detective before joining Larabee's ATF team three years ago and still maintained both close ties and a deep loyalty to the department. The police were a close knit community and breaking through that wall had been tough. Once the wall was cracked, however, the rest had come tumbling down.
Buck smiled to himself and continued with his report. As a team, they had solved the case. Ezra and Vin had tracked down Frank Simmons and brought him in. Buck still couldn't believe Chris had let Tanner work with Ezra, him being a civilian, but he had.
Buck shook his head. Simmons had told Chris that Taylor and Williams had shot Harmon. The three had been arguing about how to set up Tanner and get rid of him permanently. Even as a bounty hunter, Vin had continued to be a thorn in their side. Harmon was disgusted, turned to walk away from the group and Joe had shot him. Simmons wasted no time making his escape, afraid that Taylor would kill him, plant the gun and frame him for Harmon's murder. While being questioned, Taylor had hung tough, saying he had nothing to do with Harmon's death. Williams, however, once confronted with the evidence against him, had made a deal with the DA and confessed everything. Taylor had finally tried to make a deal, saying he could implicate several civilian workers in the scheme. After all, selling guns to the street gangs in Purgatorio was a lucrative business.
They had saved Tanner's life and put away a couple of bad guys. All in all a good week's work. Buck still did not understand the friendship that had developed between Chris and Vin, but it was good to see Chris smile and relax again. It seemed that Chris had not smiled once since Sarah and Adam were killed four years ago. Buck continued to smile to himself. Maybe he didn't need to understand it, but just go with it.
Epilogue:
It was Saturday morning and Vin was a happy person. The case was solved, his shoulder was healing up nicely and on Monday he had an appointment with Assistant Director Orin Travis of the ATF. Chris had made it clear that he wanted Vin on his team and Vin realized he wanted that, too. On Friday evening at the place they called the "Saloon" he had gathered with the rest of the team, had a few beers and really gotten to know them better. They were all a great bunch of guys and Vin hoped to fit in. Afterward, he had come back to the ranch with Chris.And there his confusion had begun. Vin had never thought of himself as a gay man before. He had been with a few women when he was with the Rangers, though he hadn't experienced the toe-tingling feeling Buck talked about. And he knew Chris wasn't gay; the pictures of his deceased wife and son proved that.
However, something was happening between them. They were sharing some very strong feelings toward each other and Vin just didn't understand it. He wasn't sure if he should fight against it or not. Normally, he hated being touched by anyone, hated people invading his space. Touch had always meant pain and he had learned at an early age to keep an arm's length between himself and others. But it seemed that Chris wanted to be close to him, was always massaging his shoulders, clapping him on the back or patting him on the shoulder. It felt good, it felt right, felt comfortable. Nope, he thought as he poured himself a cup of coffee, he just didn't understand it at all.
Chris walked in the kitchen, picked up his cup and fixed himself some coffee. He smiled at Vin as he took a sip. If he lived to be a hundred he would never understand what was happening to him. Vin was looking at him with that half smile, a look that always settled in his groin. He had never experienced feelings like these for another man. He still remembered how shocked he had been the first time it had happened; he remembered it so vividly.
He and Vin had been on that last stakeout. The perp had shown up and been apprehended, and he and Vin had argued over who had jurisdiction. It was an interagency operation, so either the Marshals or the ATF could get him. He was starting to get angry when Vin smiled that half smile of his and "bang!", his world tilted. His cock hardened! He'd almost choked on his next words, which came out more as a squeak. Thankfully, he was wearing a loose-fitting suit instead of his jeans. Vin had continued to smirk at him with a knowing smile on his face. Damn! Chris was convinced the man could read his mind.
Chris drank his coffee and wondered what would happen if he threw caution to the wind and just kissed Vin. Well, only one way to find out.
Vin noticed the change of expression on Chris's face, felt a surge of panic and took a step backwards. He found himself backed up against the counter as Chris moved toward him. Chris gently took him by the shoulders and kissed him lightly. Chris pulled away slightly, their foreheads touching, leaned in and kissed him again. Vin leaned into the kiss, no longer feeling the need to panic. He opened his mouth to Chris and slipped his arms around Larabee's lean waist as the man's tongue lightly caressed his lips. A new feeling of contentment swept through him as their bodies pressed together in a perfect fit. This was right.
A promise had been made and accepted by both men.
END