Days in September

by KT

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be.

Note: This story deals with young children learning about the events of 9/11. Betaed and edited by LT.

Buck put the letter down and looked over at Chris.

"Are you gonna go?" Larabee asked.

Buck nodded. "I know it's been five years, but it still feels like it was just yesterday."

One Week Later

Vin wasn't happy. The summer was over and he had to go back to school. It wasn't that he really hated school, he just didn't like it enough to be happy that the summer vacation was over. JD, of course, was jumping out of his skin with excitement over going back to school. When Buck took both of them shopping to get supplies for the new school year, he could hardly contain himself. Vin had just been happy to get the whole thing over, so he could get back home to enjoy his last few days of freedom.

Then the night before last, just before their bedtime, Buck sat them down and made an announcement.

"I've got to take a little trip to New York, later this month."

JD suddenly looked worried. Their youngest always came across as so much more confident and secure than Vin, but that security was dependent on his family, especially his Buck, being around him.

Vin watched as JD quizzed Buck about how long he'd be gone and where he was going, seeking assurance that this was only a temporary absence. There was something in Buck's eyes, a sadness he'd seen before. He'd seen it in Chris' eyes as well, but he didn't understand. What ever it was, it didn't seem to be connected to anything that happened at home or at his father's work and it didn't even seem to be connected to Mrs Chris or Adam.

As the time passed, getting closer to the day of Buck's trip, the sadness seemed to be spreading. Vin noticed people on the TV were sad, at school and in shops, people - adults - were sad and all this sadness was connected to a word. He'd heard the word before, on the news, it always seemed to make people sad. He didn't understand the word, he wasn't even sure it was English, to him it sounded like neye-el-even, what ever that was.

It was Saturday morning, and Vin and JD were working on a school assignment, the theme was 'heroes'. Chris had got out his medals and placed them on the table for Vin to draw.

"Daaaaaaaaaaa!" JD hollered.

"JDeeeeeeeeeee!" Buck responded from the mudroom.

"Can I draw your med-sals?!"

"My what?" Buck put his head past the door.

"Med-sals. You said I could."

"He means medals," Vin clarified.

"Oh, yeah." Buck had forgotten the breakfast time request. "Vin, can you get them for him, I'm all muddy. They're in a black box, in my bedside cabinet, the one on the far side!"




"When Vin gets back, you can look but not touch, okay?"


"Promise me, no touching. I'll be there as soon as I'm clean."

Vin jogged into Buck's room and around his bed. The black leather box was easy to locate on the top shelf in the little cabinet. He took it out and placed it on the bed then turned back to shut the door. Something caught his eye, a book, a very big book, he couldn't work out what the picture on the front was, but at the top of the book it said 9/11. Vin stared at the book; nine eleven, could that be the mysterious neye-el-even?

He knew it was wrong, but he pulled the book out and placed it on the floor.


Buck finally came into the house to find JD watching TV.

"I thought you were doing your school assignment?" his father asked.

"Vin can't find your med-sals," JD explained.

Buck frowned and looked at the dining table. There were Chris' medals; the paper, the colours and a half finished picture of the medals, but no Vin. He turned away from JD, who was once more engrossed in his beloved Scooby Doo, and headed for his bedroom. The box was on the bed, medals safely inside, but no Vin. Grabbing the box off the bed, he didn't give the room a second glance as he headed back out. He looked for Vin in the boy's room and the bathroom, but didn't find him; so, assuming he'd gone outside to find Chris in the barn, he headed back to help JD finish his assignment - once Scooby had uncovered another dastardly plot.

Half an hour later, Chris came in, alone.

"Vin still out in the barn?" Buck asked.

"No, I thought he was in here with you guys, doing his assignment?"

When they searched the house, it was Buck who found Vin; he was on the floor, on the far side of Buck's bed, the nine eleven book open in front of him, a look of bewilderment in his eyes.

"Hey there, we've been looking for you," Buck said softly.

Vin quickly sat up, closing the book. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked, but it was just there and it said nine eleven and people keep saying that, nine eleven and I just wanted to…" he ran out of words, huge blue eyes staring up at Buck.

Nine eleven was so much a part of their lives now, it had never occurred to Buck, that to children like Vin, it meant nothing. Vin had been only two when the twin towers fell; JD was just a tiny baby. In the poverty the boys were brought up in, there had been little access to TV and probably no interest in current affairs. He and Chris were always careful to censor what the boys saw on TV and not to leave newspapers lying around, other than the funnies and the sports pages. The boys had seen enough ugliness in their short lives; they didn't need to see any more. Not yet.

Vin stood up, then looked back down at the book. "It's real, isn’t it? It's not about a movie."

Buck sat down on the bed, looking into Vin's expressive blue eyes. "Yes, it was real."

"When did it happen?"

"September the 11th, 2001."

Vin though a moment. "That's what nine eleven means, September the 11th?" Buck nodded. "They say it on TV all the time, nine eleven, sometimes I hear grown ups say it, they always look sad when they say it." He looked down at the book again. "Mom never told me about it."

"You were too young," Buck reminded softly.

Vin looked up. "Tell me about it now, I'm not too young now."

Buck looked at the book and then back at Vin. Vin, who was so often too serious. Vin, with his fierce sense of justice. Vin, who was forever thinking of others. "I tell you what, let's go find Chris and let him know I've found you, okay?"

Vin seemed to know this was not the time to push his request. "'Kay," he agreed.


Once he'd informed everyone that Vin had been located, Buck pulled Chris aside.

"He found my nine eleven book," Buck explained. "He asked me to tell him about it."

"Damn," Chris commented as the ramifications hit him.

"If it's alright by you, I'd like to do this, I'm the one he asked - but it's up to you, Pal."

Chris looked at his long time friend, the man who was as close to him as any brother. Buck was good at explaining complicated things to the boys. Sometime he just seemed to understand how the boys saw things.

"Okay, I'll distract JD for a while. You're gonna look at me like I'm an idiot, but it's just occurred to me that this hero's theme the school has set must be leading up to the nine eleven anniversary."

Buck looked as if he'd just slapped his own forehead. "Of course!"

"It didn't occur to you either?"



They settled on the front porch steps, Buck had the book on his knees.

"Are you going to New York 'cause it was five years ago?" Vin asked.

"Yes, look here." Buck opened the book, he knew which page to go to, knew the number of by heart. It was a picture taken at the base of the south tower, showing the mass of police cars and fire trucks. "See that policeman there, the one with his sleeves rolled up?"

Vin peered at the picture. "Yeah?"

"His name was Tom Shore, and I knew him. You see, when you first become a policeman, what they call a rookie, they give you a partner who's older, someone who knows all about being a policeman and he teaches you. Tom was the man that taught me all about being a good policeman."

"I though Dad was your partner?"

"Well he was, when we were detectives, but this was when I was still in uniform."

"Oh, okay. And he was your partner?" He pointed to the man in the picture.

"Yes. But his wife, she's a lawyer, she was offered a really good job in New York, so he moved there. And…" Buck still found it hard to talk about that moment. "after this picture was taken, just a little while after it was taken, the tower fell down and they were all killed; those policeman and firemen who went there to help, they were all killed."

"All of them?"

Buck nodded sadly.

Vin was struggling to understand. "It fell on them? Why?"

That was when Buck realised he'd started in the middle. Putting aside his own grief for a moment, he turned to the start of the book and told the attentive boy the story of that terrible day, as best he could. More than once his voice cracked, and when it did, Vin would lean into him. When they got to a picture of a fire truck squashed flat, Vin reached out and ran his hand over the image, looking up at Buck with tears in his eyes.

"Are you going to where your friend is buried?" he asked when they got to a picture of one of the big fire department funerals.

"Sort of." Buck flicked through the book to a picture of ground zero, taken a year later. "That's were the towers used to be. Today, its all been cleared away, and on September the eleventh, there's going to be a memorial service, to remember all the people who died. You see, they never found Tom's body, so that's his grave, that's were we remember him. Tom had a son." He looked down and smiled softly. "He's much older than you, he's in the army now, and because he's serving in Iraq, his mother asked me to come to New York and go with her to the service."

"So she wouldn't be on her own?"

"That's right."

"That's good, it's not good to be all alone when you're sad."

Vin once more gave Buck a hug. It made him smile to think how far this boy had come in such a short time. When he had first arrived, Vin would never have told them he was sad, let alone advocate that someone seek out company. After a while, Vin went back to looking at the pictures. He came to a stop at a picture of the Pennsylvania crash sight.

"But how did they get out off the plane?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The bad guys, the one's that flew the planes, how did they get out, before they crashed. Did they have parachutes?"

"No, no they died as well."

Vin though about this for a while. "Did their plan go wrong? Like when the people made it crash, did that happen to all of them?"

"No, the hijackers flew the planes into the buildings on purpose."

"Did they know they were going to die?"


"Oh." Vin fell silent again, leaning his head against Buck.

Vin went back to flicking over a few more pages of the book, while Buck watched. When he'd shown him the book before, he'd been careful to not let him see the pictures of the people who'd jumped; feeling that was one horror too far. Vin came to a stop back at the picture with Buck's old partner in it.

"Why did they do it, those men, why?" he asked.

Buck took a very deep breath. "No one really knows, we can't look into their hearts and know for sure why they did it, but…"

He put his arm around Vin's shoulders.

"From everything I've seen and heard and read, they did it because they thought that it was what God wanted them to do."

Vin pulled away. "Well that's just dumb, God wouldn't want all them folk to die!" he stated angrily.

"I know that and so do you and everyone else, well almost everyone else. Those men, they were Muslims - do you know what that is?"

Vin frowned. "It's a religion?"

"Yes, there are Muslims living all over the world."

"Even in America?"

"Yes there are Muslim Americans, but in some countries, especially in a part of the world called the Middle East, almost everyone is a Muslim. And for some reason, there are folks there who think America is the enemy of their religion."

"Are we?"


"So why do they think we are?"

"To be honest Cowboy, I don't know, I've never taken much of an interest in politics."

Vin looked at the pictures in the book again, flicking back to the images of the planes hitting the twin towers.

"Is that what Muslims believe, that it's okay to kill people?"

"No, not at all! As far as I can see, their beliefs are mostly the same as ours."

"So why would they think that?"

"Because someone lied to them. I think that they were very angry young men and people, very bad people, lied to them. They made them believe what they were doing was what God wanted. These bad people used those men do something they were too cowardly do themselves."

"Why were they angry?" Vin asked.

"Young men are often angry." Buck looked down at Vin and smiled. "I was."

"You were?"

"Yes, I was angry I couldn't afford to go to collage, I was angry that people said bad things about my Ma, I was angry that someone killed her and the police didn't catch them."

Vin gasped, causing Buck to mentally kick himself. He'd told the boys his mother had died while he was in the army, but he'd never told them she'd been murdered.

"Someone killed her?" Vin asked, and although he spoke in hushed tones, his voice betrayed his shock.

"Yes, but it was a long time ago now and I don't want to talk about it."

Vin put his arms around Buck and gave him a long hug. "Okay, I understand," he whispered. He knew how he felt inside when he thought about his mother's death. He didn't like that feeling, it made him have 'feel bad' thoughts and bad dreams, plus it made his tummy feel funny - in a bad way. He didn't want Buck to feel that way.

After a while, but without letting go of Buck, Vin pointed to the book again. "Tell me the rest," he requested.

"Like I was telling you, these people convinced those young men they were doing God's work, they told them if they did this, they'd go straight to heaven."

Suddenly, Vin pulled away from him. "NO!" he almost shouted. "They can't go to heaven, not with my mom and JD's mamma, not with your ma! They can't!" he insisted. By now, he was standing up and facing Buck, his slight frame ridged with anger. "They're bad men, bad men can't go to heaven, they can't!"

Buck forced himself to stay calm as he reached out one hand. "Hey there, calm down, I didn't say they did, but, as far as we can tell, they thought that they would."

Vin let himself be led back to the step, where he sat down again.

"We don't get to say who does or doesn’t go to heaven, only God can do that - right?"

"But he wouldn't let them, would he?"

"I don't know. If they really did believe, in their heart, that they were doing what He wanted, would God punish them, just because they were lied to?"

Vin though. "But they were going to kill people, they knew that was wrong - right?"

"I don't know, I'm sure they were brought up to believe it was wrong, but I don't know if they still believed that when they did it."

Vin shook his head. "No, killing people is bad, everyone knows that. God wouldn't let them in," he stated confidently.

Buck took a deep breath. "I've killed people, so has Chris and all your uncles, even your Grandpa Matt."

Vin looked at Buck as if he's grown a second head. "That's not the same, you're the good guys, you only do it 'cause you have to, you only kill bad guys," he stated with total certainty.

Buck smiled, wishing Vin could somehow keep his naive, black and white, clear cut division between right and wrong, good and bad, for the rest his life.

"I'm sure you're right."

Vin finally closed the book and looked out across the yard. JD was grooming Milagro. Too small to reach the horse's back or neck, he was squatting down, diligently brushing the bay's legs. Ever patient around his small master, Milagro's head had dropped; no doubt he was dozing. Chris, having already brushed those parts of Milagro JD couldn't reach, was grooming his own horse.

"Has it happened again?" Vin asked.



"In Spain and England and a country called Bali."

"Could it happen in Denver?"

"Yes, but its not very likely."

"That's why your job is so important," he looked up at Buck. "isn't it?"

"We do our bit, just like the police, the fire-fighters and all the other federal agencies.

Vin made a face. "Even the FBI?"

"Yes, even the FBI. I know we call them Feebs and say bad things about them, but they're not all bad. Actually, to be honest, most of them are very good at their jobs." Vin didn't look convinced, he knew the FBI had been mean to his beloved Uncle Ezra. "A lot of FBI agents died on nine eleven," Buck reminded.

Vin looked back at JD, who had finished brushing his horse and was now just talking to him. He could tell the younger boy was talking because his arms were moving. When he first came to the ranch from the rescue centre, Milagro would shy away when JD became so animated, but now he just took it in his stride, knowing the little boy was no threat.

"You shouldn't show the book to JD, he won't understand, it'll make him cry," Vin stated sagely.

"I think you're right, but your dad and I think that the school project you're doing is leading up to September the 11th, because it's been five years, since it happened there are going to be special ceremonies, all over the country. So we all remember what happened."

"Then you need to tell him about it, but don't show him the pictures of the people who died."

Buck couldn't help it; he gave Vin another hug. "Why don't I talk to your teacher, and find out what she has planned? Then I can make sure JD understands it, without upsetting him."

"That's a good plan." Vin wrapped his arms around Buck and rested his head against his broad chest. "Thanks for explaining it to me. I'm sorry your friend died."

"Thanks Cowboy. You got any questions?" Vin shook his head. "Want to go and talk to your dad?"

Vin looked up and frowned. "How did you know?"

"Go on, I'll get some food started, before JD faints from hunger!"


"So," Chris began once JD had run into the house, looking for food and his father.

Vin picked up a soft brush and began to groom Pony, brushing gently at the horse's powerful chest.

"Anything you want to ask me?"

Vin didn't look up. "Buck explained it good."

"Buck's good at explaining things."

"Yeah." Vin went on brushing the horse in silence for a while. "Did you know someone who died?" he finally asked.

"Well I knew Tom, not as well as Buck of course, but other than him, no I didn't know anyone who was killed that day."

When Vin didn't speak again for a while, Chris knelt down so that he could look him in the eyes.

"Did you want to ask anything else?" Vin shook his head. "Well if you do have any questions, if there is something you want explained, you know you can ask me or Buck anytime, right?"

Vin put the brush down and smiled sadly at this father. "I know." Just then his stomach rumbled.

Chris almost laughed. "Now I could be wrong, but I think someone needs one of those sandwiches Buck is making?"

Vin looked down at his own belly and grinned. "Yeah."

Suddenly, the tension seemed to leave Vin as they were brought back to the here and now.

"Come on then Cowboy, let's head in, before JD eats them all."


The boys' teacher confirmed they were planning to mark nine eleven but wouldn't be talking about it until the day before.

"Actually, we're sending a letter home this weekend, outlining our approach to the subject. Let me give you a copy now."

JD was the youngest in his class, and, once he'd read the letter, Buck wasn't sure he could cope with the amount of information he'd be getting. Among other things, the school planned to show the children a specially edited film about the events of that day. He considered asking Chris to keep him out of school that day, but the other children would no doubt talk about what'd they'd learned and seen and he didn't want him to get distorted, second hand information.

Before he went away, Buck told JD that five years ago, a very bad thing happened. He told him, bad man made some planes crash and lots of people died. He told him the bad men who did it were dead, so there was no reason to worry when he watched his father get on a plane. That was really all JD could handle and it fitted in with what the school was planning to tell the other children in his age group.


Buck flew out on the morning of the 10th. It had taken some time to get JD settled that night, even after Buck called to tell him goodnight. After he finally got both boys down, Chris settled himself on the couch to watch some television. He awoke to find that he had dozed off and that the show he had been watching was now over. In its place was the nightly news. As he watched, the reporter in New York was talking about the ceremonies planned for the next morning. The programme moved to a new topic and he suddenly became aware of someone else in the room. Spinning around, he found Vin, standing quietly at the edge of the room. Chris smiled and used his head to beckon his son into the room, switching off the TV as he did.

"Can't sleep?" he asked as Vin snuggled beside him.

"Been thinking 'bout, you know, tomorrow."

"Me too."

"In school, they told us a memorial is where you remember people who died, but it's not where they're buried."

"That's right."

"Mrs Roquette, says there's a nine eleven memorial here, in Denver."

"Yes." Chris had to admit to himself, although he knew it existed, he'd never been there.

"Can we go there?"

Chris pulled his son a little closer. "Yeah, we can go there."


Vin sighed and looked up at the clock in the classroom, it would be another hour and a half before school ended. He wanted to see his father, he always wanted to be near his father, but today the need seemed to be so strong it was all he could do to stop himself bolting for the school office and asking them to call Chris. He knew they would, they had strict instructions from his dad that if Vin asked, he was to be allowed to call him or Buck or any of his uncles at any time. Chris had told him he trusted Vin only to call in an emergency. Needing to see Chris wasn't an emergency, but it felt like it. He looked over at JD; he'd been uncharacteristically quiet all day. After spending the morning learning and talking about what had occurred on nine eleven, their teachers had tried to lighten the mood. The afternoon art assignment was to paint a picture of something alive, like a tree or a flower or an animal.

Vin had painted a picture of Peso and Ringo; he didn't need to look to know JD had painted something similar. For a while it did make him feel better, but not for long. At least, Chris was close by, Buck was in New York. He felt bad for JD and that only made him want to call Chris even more, because Chris would make JD feel better.

"Vin?" Mrs Roquette spoke softy behind him.

"Yes ma'am?" he responded.

"I think someone is here to see you." She pointed to the door.

Vin looked up to see his father standing there, smiling. He didn't say anything, he didn't ask permission, he just shot out of his chair and ran to the where Chris had dropped to one knee to meet him. His sudden departure had alerted JD that something was up and his head shot around to see where his brother was going. On seeing Chris, his reaction was the same.

Chris gave each boy a quick hug, then stood up, a hand on the shoulder of each boy. Freddie looked around, he opened his mouth, no doubt to make some comment about Vin and JD being babies who needed their papa. However, one glare from Chris silenced him, and a little shame faced, he turned back to his art work, a picture of a shark.

"You got my message?" Chris asked the teacher.

"Yes we did," she confirmed. "Boys, you have a good day and I'll see you tomorrow - okay?"

"Okay," JD responded.

"See you tomorrow Mrs R," Vin confirmed.

As soon as the boys had their things together, Chris led them out to the Ram.


It didn't take the boys long to work out that they weren't headed toward the ranch, but a little longer to realise they weren't going into the city either.

"Dad, where are we going?" Vin asked,

"To the place you asked me about yesterday - remember?"

Vin thought a moment, then he smiled. "Thanks Dad."

"Where we going?" JD demanded.

"Don’t worry Little Bit, it's a good place," Chris assured.

"A special place," Vin told him confidently.


They drove north to Broomfield. There Chris pulled into the parking lot closest to the nine eleven memorial. The memorial had only been officially unveiled and dedicated the day before, and although it was now mid afternoon, there were still plenty of people around.

Vin climbed down from his seat as Chris unbuckled JD and lifted him out.

"Dad! Look!" Vin called out suddenly pointing across the parking lot.

Chris looked over his shoulder, knowing what he'd see. Ezra, Josiah and Nathan were getting out of Nathan's car and coming to join them.

"Hello," Vin greeted. "How come you guys is here?"

"Well on today, of all days, this seemed the place to be," Nathan told him.

"And," Josiah added. "look who we found at the airport." He stepped aside to reveal Buck.

"Da!" JD squealed and ran to him, arms up, knowing he'd be swept up into his father's safe embrace.

"Hey there Lit'le Bit, I missed you."

"I missed you too!" JD planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss on his father's cheek.

"How was school today?" Buck asked.

JD sighed. "Sad."


"Yeah, sad, we watched a film about nine eleven and it was sad. How was your trip?"


"Today is a sad day."

"Yeah, it is." Buck looked over at Chris, wondering if this had been a bad idea, maybe JD had had enough for now. Chris just shrugged. "JD?" Buck asked softly.


"The reason we're all here, at this place, is that, there's a memorial here, for all the people who died that day, but, if you want, I can take you home, Nathan will bring Chris and Vin home later."

JD looked at him. "Mrs R told us about the 'morial," he stated, then he seemed to think a bit more before he said. "I want to see it."

"Are you sure?"

The little dark head bobbed up and down.


The memorial itself, consisted of three relief tableaux depicting the three attack sights, on the back of each of these was a list of those who died. There was also a large piece of metal from the World Trade Centre and three life size bronze statues. People, mostly adults walked quietly from one part of the memorial to another, stopping to look and read and contemplate. There were flowers at the base of each. Vin's hand tightened in his father's when he saw them, wishing they had some to leave.

"Don't worry," Chris soothed, "your Uncle Ezra's taken care of it."

Vin looked at his father and then his uncle, who had, as if from nowhere, produced seven, long stem, thornless, red roses. He gave his father's hand another little squeeze and smiled. It was great when his dad knew what he was worried about without him having to say anything.

The men gathered around Vin and Chris, who was kneeling beside his son. JD was still clamped to his father's side and didn't look like he would be letting go any time soon.

"We each have a rose and you can leave it in front of any part of the memorial you want, but remember, it doesn’t matter where you leave it, you're still remembering everyone - okay?"

Both boys nodded, then the family, fathers, sons and uncles, set out, each with a rose in his hand. Buck walked to each part of the memorial and explained it to JD. The little boy, normally so loud and inquisitive, kept quiet and listened, his head on his father's shoulder, thumb in his mouth.

When they reached the piece of debris, he wiggled to be let down. Once on the ground, he slowly moved forward and, glancing back at his father to gauge his reaction, he edged toward it. Tentatively, he reached out his hand and touched it. As Buck watched, it seemed to him that his son was stroking it, as if it was somehow alive and he could soothe it's hurt. Gently he put his rose down with the others in front of it, then trotted back to Buck, once more lifting his hands. Once he was back in his father's arms, he asked Buck if he was going to put his rose down there as well.

"You know, I'd like to walk around again and think on it a little. Would it be okay if you stayed with one of your uncles, just for a while?"

JD looked at his beloved Buck then nodded. Nathan was close by and had overheard the whole conversation; he nodded to Buck, who turned so that JD could see Jackson.

"Hi Uncle Na'fan," he greeted, thumb now back his mouth.


Vin walked about looking and thinking and feeling sad and also - well he wasn't sure how he was feeling. It wasn't a feeling he could put a name to. Chris walked beside him, also silent. He looked at everything, but he came back to the image of New York. As he stood there, Chris knelt down and left his rose in front of the memorial. Then, without getting up, he turned to face Vin.

"How you doing, Cowboy?" he asked.

"I don’t know," Vin admitted. "I feel sad and I feel, I don’t have the word for it, but sort of…" He cocked his head on one side. "It's like when I think about the people on the plane, who tried to stop it, I feel sort of good, even though they died. And the statue, back there, of the folk helping each other, it makes me feel the same and when I think about all the policemen and firemen who tried to help…"

Chris smiled. "Do you think you feel sort of good about it, because all those people did the right thing. Even though they must have been so scared, they still tried to help. They were brave and you feel that, because they did it, maybe you could, if you had to - and that makes you proud of them?"

Vin thought a moment. "Yeah," he finally agreed.

"I know the name for what you're feeling."

Vin looked at him expectantly.


Vin grinned; his dad was the smartest dad in the whole world.

"So, are you going to put that rose down here?" Chris asked.

Vin shook his head, then turned and walked around the memorial, to look at the plaque on the back, listing all those who died in the New York attack. He was a little surprised to find Buck and Ezra squatting down in front of the list.

"Is it there?" Vin asked Buck as he joined them.

Buck nodded, pointing to the list; he located 'Thomas Shore'. Vin reached out and traced the name. Beside them, Ezra also stretched out his hand, locating another name.

"Theresa Cannon, we were at collage together, she was a banker," he explained.

Ezra lay his rose down, Buck put his down next to it and Vin, then, put his on top.

"Ready to go home now?" Buck asked him.

Vin turned, and smiling, gave him a hug. "Yeah."

The End