Comments: A loosely based (very loosely ) ATF post-episode version of Wagon Train. This is a birthday gift for Shea, who requested hurt Vin and comforting Chris. Thanks to the amazing Laramee for the pic!

She rolled over in stony silence, her rigid spine sealing the wall between them.

Chris got up and walked to the window, peering out into a night as black and heavy as his heart. He'd made a mess of things. And the hell of it was, he had no idea how or why.

Turning back, he noted that even in the dark shadows, her blond hair seemed to shine like a beacon. Mary was a beautiful woman. Smart and sassy and strong - everything any man would want.

So why didn't he want her?

Well, he did want her. Of course he did. They were just going through a rough spell, that was all. It was the stress of the upcoming wedding. Budgets were due at the end of the month, and that was a bitch, as always. He'd had the vet out three times to look at Billy's new colt, but the little guy still wasn't getting on like he should. Josiah was having trouble shaking off a smitten widow and her annoying son, and everyone suffered for his sour mood. Nathan and Ezra were bickering endlessly over some old guy's worthless will, and Buck was tormenting JD non-stop about his blossoming relationship with Casey.

And Vin was nearly killed.

He wrapped his arms around his waist as a shiver coursed through him. Maybe he should turn up the heat, he thought, as he made his way into the family room. Mary was always complaining that he kept it too cold in the house. Vin griped about it, too, but Tanner was a Texan who apparently had no personal acquaintance with the term "body heat".

Except that wasn't exactly true. There was that one time . . .

Stupid the things a man thought of late at night when he'd fought with his almost-wife. His fiancé. The word stuck on the roof of his mouth like a big, fat glob of peanut butter.

Vin loved peanut butter.

Of all the fool thoughts going through his head . . .

He and Mary had had a vicious argument - the kind that called for chocolate and roses and a whole lot of kissing up and sucking up -and he so did not need to be thinking of sucking and peanut butter and Vin right now.

The refrigerator called his name and he answered, though he knew it would only make her madder. One beer wouldn't hurt. Wouldn't help, either, but maybe she'd be asleep by the time he finished. Embers were still glowing in the fireplace, so he sat cross-legged on the floor near the hearth and pretended it was as easy as it used to be; pretended his thighs didn't pull and his back didn't ache. Pretended he didn't wonder right then, right that very minute, what Vin was doing and thinking.

Was he making love to her? Chris glanced at the clock above the mantel. It was just after midnight, so Vin was likely asleep. Early to bed, early to rise was Tanner's motto, and that thought gave him more comfort than it had any right to. Why did he care if Vin was fucking her right that moment?

Well maybe he cared because it could only lead to one conclusion: Vin broken-hearted. Again. Damn woman had caused enough trouble the first time around. Hell, if it wasn't for her, things might have turned out totally different. He himself might not have given in and gone for Mary. Gone for the perfect wife and the perfect son - the replacement life that he'd yearned for. Or thought he did. He might have gone in the exact opposite direction, in fact, but she came along and Vin fell hard. With no chance for him and Vin - and really, how could there be? - he might as well take what was right in front of him.

Mary was a beautiful woman. Perfect figure. Perfect smile. Perfect clear, blue eyes. She challenged him - made him work for it - and he needed that. He'd never gone for the simpering, submissive, happy-to-be-barefoot-and-pregnant type. No, Mary was perfect for him. Everyone said so. Even Vin.

Forget what he'd said earlier about Vin being asleep - he was probably kissing her right now, that she-devil of a woman who couldn't make up her damn mind what she wanted.

Not that he cared. He had problems of his own. The beer tasted good, though, and if he had a few more, he might forget why he'd argued with Mary over something silly and senseless, why he didn't want to crawl back in his own bed . . . why he hated the name Charlotte.

+++++++

She was exquisite, lying naked in his bed; her long, dark hair shimmering against her pale, white skin. He wasn't an artist, but if he was, Vin thought surely he'd paint her just like that. She was just so perfect.

So perfect that he couldn't stand to look at her.

He shifted his weight gingerly, praying he wouldn't wake her as he got to his feet and padded into the kitchen. Only one beer left, and he might have to make a run. Chris would kill him for just thinking of leaving the security of his apartment in search of liquor. But some things were worth the risk. And it wasn't like he'd almost been murdered in his own neighborhood, after all.

He grabbed the last bottle and headed for the couch, trying to decide whether to brave the cold air for a six-pack. Maybe not. Wouldn't help, anyway. Wouldn't change the fact that he was a total idiot for taking her back. She'd damn near killed him the first time around. Worse than that, she'd cost him any chance he might have had with Chris.

Hell, who was he kidding? He never had a chance with Chris.

What was Chris doing right now? One glance at the clock and he was pretty sure he knew. Larabee had problems sleeping - stayed up way too late for a guy his age. So he was probably still awake, though he'd be lying in bed, his arms wrapped around Mary, long legs entwined with hers.

Whoa - he'd best put a stop to that. Ridiculous that he'd allow himself for one single second to imagine Chris lying in bed . . . Chris lying anywhere.

It was Charlotte he needed to be thinking of now.

She was a witness in a case when he first met her. They'd been hired to protect her, though it quickly became apparent that she needed more protection from her husband than Dicky O'Shea's band of gun runners that she was testifying against. There was something about her sweet smile and kind eyes, and she had a vulnerability that he couldn't turn away from.

It helped that Chris had gotten more involved with Billy Travis, taking him to Scouts and ballgames and school events. Substitute father, substitute son. Whatever. It worked for both of them, so Vin bowed out. Kept busy doing other things. Didn't think about that one night when he and Chris had gone too far, sharing body heat in a freezing cold warehouse when they were long on time and short on sense.

So he met Charlotte and she needed him. He was keeping watch one night in a dark, dank hotel room - even her husband didn't know where they'd stashed her - when she came out of the bedroom in a lacy little thing that hardly covered - well, hardly covered anything. He told himself for weeks afterwards that he seduced her, but it was really the other way around. She called the shots from day one, and she was doing it still.

He knew it was crazy stupid wrong, but he told himself that her husband was more crazy, more stupid, more wrong, so that made it okay.

And all the while, Chris was getting closer and closer to Mary Travis.

It would have been more fitting if he'd nearly been killed by Charlotte's jealous husband, but it didn't go down that way. In fact, it was Richmond who was shot outside the courthouse by O'Shea's cousin in a failed attempt to kill the star witness, though he recovered well enough. Charlotte played it right with bitter tears, awkward apologies, and enough guilt to weigh them both down for months, if not years. She had to go back to him, she said, and Vin accepted it. Or would have, if Chris hadn't proposed to Mary on the very same day Charlotte left him.

Hurt like hell, and he felt like a damn fool, though which thing hurt most he wasn't sure of and he wasn't going to think about. But he survived it, like always.

It was the explosion that happened afterward that nearly took him out -months after the trial, and they'd only recently tied it back to that case. To her. One of O'Shea's men had apparently gotten past them, although they never had figured out why the guy tried to blow up Vin. Acting on a tip from one of the surviving gang members who thought he might have a shot at reducing his sentence, Buck and JD had tracked the fool down. Unfortunately, they ended up in a shooting match that left their suspect in the morgue before they got any answers. But the pieces fit, so they'd tied up the case and moved on.

He knew it was a mistake when Charlotte had shown up again on his door step, going on about how worried she'd been over his 'accident' and how much she missed him. And did she mention she'd left her husband? He shouldn't have listened, shouldn't have let her in the door, but it hurt less watching Chris plan his wedding, having her in his bed.

And she was good in bed, no doubt about that. Almost made him forget what he really wanted, who he really wanted.

Almost.

+++++++

He couldn't forget it, even three beers down it was as clear as if it was happening right that moment on the big screen TV he'd finally broken down and bought for Mary and Billy: Vin walking in the door of the deserted drug store exactly two seconds before said door blew twenty feet in the air.

Not again, the words had sprung from his lips even before the realization of what had happened fully registered in his shattered brain. He could not, he would not lose another person he loved to a senseless display of light and heat and smoke and sound. He would not.

And he did not, he reminded himself. He'd gone in and pulled a bloodied, bruised and slightly burned Vin out from under a crumpled wall without regard - to Nathan's horror - for neck injuries, spinal precautions, or any number of possible pathogens floating around in his best friend's bloodstream. He just knew he had to get Vin out and right now.

So he carried Vin out of the wreckage and lowered him to the ground while he screamed for Nathan, the paramedics, the national guard -hell, he might have demanded the presence of his mother and Jesus, too, for all he knew. And in typical Vin fashion, the damn fool ignored the hollering, the ranting, the panicked "Vin! Vin!" and simply looked up at him and said, "Look worse than I feel," before his eyes rolled back in his head and he was out.

The good thing was, Vin really did look worse than he felt. Had to be a record that he was in and out of the hospital in under 72 hours; banged up and slightly buzzed from pain killers, but far better than he had a right to be.

The damage was done, however. Chris couldn't close his eyes without reliving the explosion. And now when he dreamed, the heat of that moment in the warehouse was interspersed with the heat from a poorly placed pipe bomb. One moment, Vin was writhing in his arms and the next he was limp and lifeless - and it was no wonder he was exhausted all the damn time with Tanner haunting his dreams.

He didn't think much about that time when he and Vin got a little carried away during a particularly long, particularly chilly night of surveillance - it was such a dumb mistake, after all. Neither one of them talked about it because where could it go? What could it really mean other than they were both a little bored, a little lonely, and apparently a lot horny?

So no, he didn't talk about it, didn't think about it, didn't care about it all that much - he just dreamed about it. A lot. As in almost every night.

And he supposed it did seem odd - the fact that he called Vin's name tonight when he was half asleep and Mary had climbed into bed and wrapped her arms around him. Wasn't worth fighting about, was it? Her jealousy over his friendship with Vin was just childish.

Speaking of children . . .

"Chris? Can I have a drink of water?" Billy's small voice sounded from the bedroom down the hall.

Chris pulled himself to his feet with a soft groan. "Sure thing, kiddo," he replied as he headed for the kitchen.

It was odd sometimes how a seemingly simple action could trigger a profound revelation. As Chris reached for the glass, he had a clear memory of doing the same thing for Adam on more than one late night. And with that, came the realization of what he was really doing. How could he have been so blind?

The walk down the hall to the innocent child seemed endless, and he prayed that Billy wouldn't sense that something was wrong. Fortunately, the boy took the offered glass, sipped the water, and dropped back to sleep without a word. Chris sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, one hand caressing the soft, brown hair. Billy was a sweet kid who had had a difficult time in his young life - and he deserved far more than Chris could give him, for no child should ever be second best.

And he would be, Chris suddenly understood, because every time he made that walk down the hall in the middle of the night, there would always be another boy he pictured in his mind, another boy's face that he yearned to see.

Billy deserved better. And as he turned his head and caught Mary staring at him from the open doorway, it occurred to him that Billy's mother deserved better, too.

Chris met Mary's tear-filled eyes, but she quickly turned away and went back to their room. He knew he should go after her, but he wasn't sure what he could say to make it right.

Maybe nothing could make it right. And maybe all he could do now was talk to somebody about it, somebody who would understand without digging too deep or expecting too much. He grabbed the quilt off the couch as he passed by, wrapping it around his shoulders as he headed out for the deck. A single press of the button on his cell was all it took.

++++++

Vin couldn't image who'd be calling him at this hour, especially since his friends knew he wasn't one to stay up late. But then he saw Chris's number show up, and he hurriedly answered.

"Larabee? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Chris replied, though the sigh that followed said otherwise. "Just wanted to - uh - talk a minute. I know it's late."

"Yeah. Well, okay. I mean, I was up, anyway."

"Yeah? Okay then."

Dead silence for what seemed like hours to Vin but was probably only minutes. "So, you gonna talk or am I supposed to read your mind? I mean, I know the guys tease us about that but it's a little difficult -"

"I need to see you," Chris cut in. "I can't say this over the phone."

Vin's heart sped up, in spite of his head screaming at him not to get stupid. It didn't mean anything - Chris was probably just having cold feet over the wedding. He probably needed his best friend to share a drink and tell him how great his life was going to be. Vin thought he might throw up if he actually had to say those words, but hell, he'd done worse for a friend.

"Alright. How much have you drank?"

"Couple beers."

"Couple two or three? Or couple six or seven?"

"Vin -"

"I'll be over," he said, and disconnected the call before Chris could argue.

Larabee didn't sound too bad, but he wasn't taking any chances. Besides, a midnight drive might be just the thing to clear his own head before he got bogged down in whatever had set Chris off.

He didn't think about what Chris might have to tell him as he drove; didn't imagine Larabee telling him that this whole wedding thing was a big mistake. Didn't consider how he'd feel if Chris admitted that maybe having a wife and child wasn't at all what he needed in his life. Didn't hope that that night at the warehouse tore at Chris day and night the way it tore at him -making him half crazy with the promise of it. No, he didn't think or dream or imagine or hope any of those things as the miles crept by in the dead of the night. It wouldn't do to be anything other than Chris's friend tonight.

So yes, Chris, he practiced in his head, of course you should marry Mary. And yes, Chris, she's perfect for you. And yes, Chris, Billy needs you and you need him and it will all work out.

Oh, and by the way, I love you.

Vin nearly slammed on the brakes. Where the hell did that come from? He didn't love Chris - he loved Charlotte. Charlotte with the sweet smile that lit up her eyes, and the soft curves that felt so good under his hands, and the long, silky hair that sent shivers down his spine when it brushed across his chest and groin. It was Charlotte he tasted on his lips, it was Charlotte he dreamed of, and Charlotte he raced home to after work.

It was Charlotte he'd forgotten to leave a goddamn note for. She'd be livid when she woke up and found him gone without explanation. And she'd have every right to be angry. Well, maybe he could get Chris back on track and be home before she even woke up.

Or maybe not, considering Larabee was pacing the long driveway of his ranch home as Vin finally pulled in. Chris waved him down and he pulled off to the side, long before reaching the house.

"Park here," Chris said, leaning into the open window of Vin's jeep. "Don't wanna wake Billy."

As he pulled his vehicle off to the side and turned off the engine, Vin noticed that Chris didn't say anything about waking Mary. "We gonna talk out here in the dark?" he asked as he climbed out and quietly closed the door behind him.

"You mind? I brought you a blanket in case you get cold."

"I'm good," Vin answered, though he was already shivering. He wasn't going to admit to being cold, though, not after the last time he'd said those words when he and Chris were alone in a dark place.

"Let's walk to the barn," Chris suggested. "Got a lantern there and we'll be out of the wind, at least."

Vin didn't answer; he was too caught up in the whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn't shake loose of his brain. What was going on with Chris?

"I'm sorry to drag you out here in the middle of the night. Tell Charlotte -"

"She doesn't know," Vin quickly cut in. It came to him then why Chris had him park at the end of the drive. "And I take it Mary doesn't know I'm here, either?"

"No. She, um . . . We had an argument. About you."

Though bluntly said, the words were muted in the soft hum of the night, and Vin had to think for a moment if he'd truly heard what he thought he had. "About me?"

"Yeah. Sort of. No, definitely. It definitely was about you."

"Oh." Vin figured he should say something a little more intelligent, but nothing came to mind as he followed along behind Chris to the barn that sat on the edge of the Larabee property. Why would Chris and Mary argue about him? He hadn't done anything wrong, that he could think of. Chris did spend a good bit of time with him after the explosion - stayed a few nights on his couch - but that was weeks ago. Unless . . . Had Mary found out about that night? If so, how? He was certain Chris would sooner wear white and drink tea than confess what they'd done with each other that one time - and he himself sure as hell hadn't told anyone.

When they entered the barn, Chris quickly struck a match and lit the lantern he kept on a hook by the piles of hay. He then threw the blanket on the ground and motioned for Vin to sit down.

It probably wasn't the best idea, Vin thought. Wasn't this how it had started that night at the warehouse? With Chris bringing the blanket from his car and throwing it down on the cold cement behind the crates? Different time, different circumstances, Vin reminded himself. Still, he was careful to sit as far away from Chris as he could manage.

Now that they were there, Chris seemed to be at an uncomfortable loss for words.

"So you gonna tell me why we're hidin' out in your barn in the middle of the night?" Vin finally prodded.

Chris cleared his throat. "Tonight, when Billy asked for a glass of water, I realized something, Vin."

Chris's eyes were downcast, and he sat perfectly still, as if it what weighed on him was too heavy for him to even lift his head.

"What? What did you realize, Chris?" His heart was pounding again, though he knew now that this had nothing to with him. It must be about Adam. But still - he and Mary fought about him, Chris had said.

Still not looking up, Chris replied, "I realized that I wanted Billy to be my son for all the wrong reasons." He finally lifted his chin to look Vin in the eye. "How could I do that to that boy? What the hell is wrong with me? He's an innocent child, for God's sake."

It was a rare thing when Vin couldn't think how to respond to Chris, but he was out of his league on this one. He'd never been a father; hell, he'd hardly been a son. But he knew Chris, knew that for his hard-nosed, bad-ass reputation, underneath it all he was compassionate and caring and good. Too good for his own good, most times.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with you missin' your own boy, Chris. Don't mean you can't love another. I may not know much about bein' a father, but I know you'd never hurt Billy. Never."

"Not intentionally, no."

"It's just gonna take some time, that's all."

"No, Vin. That's not all. It's Mary, too."

Chris was looking at him with eyes dark and serious, like he was about to tell Vin he had a terminal disease, or that terrorists had unleashed a deadly plague just down the road, or that he'd accidentally turned Peso into a vat of glue.

Vin had a hunch this was where he came in - where the argument Chris and Mary had about him came in - but he wasn't sure where or how or exactly what he was supposed to say. So he said nothing at all.

"I don't - I don't think I love her," Chris said then, still pinning him with that gaze.

Well, what was he supposed to say to that? "Yes, you do," or "It's about time you figured that out," or "Are you crazy?" or the best choice of all, "Well, who do you love then?" As none of those things seemed exactly right, he once again said nothing.

And Chris once again continued. "How could I not love her? She's perfect. What is wrong with me?"

This was the second time Chris had asked that question, and Vin could no longer hold his tongue. "There is nothing wrong with you, Chris. Not a damn thing, you hear me? Whatever it is that's got your head all turned around tonight, it's not because there's something wrong with you."

"Then why? Why aren't I happy? What am I missing?"

Me, Vin thought, you need me. And where that came from, he didn't know. But maybe it was about time he found out, so he took a breath and asked, "What do I have to do with this? Why did you fight over me?"

Chris finally looked away. But he soon looked back and rolled his eyes sheepishly. "It seems I said your name tonight instead of hers."

"What?" Vin's voice rose an octave. "When? When you were ...?"

"What? No. Hell, no! I was just asleep, or almost asleep, and she crawled into bed and put her arms around me and apparently I, uh, I didn't exactly say her name."

"You said mine?"

"Yeah."

Vin couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Chris didn't love Mary and didn't want the perfect family, after all. And he said his name when he was almost asleep. Could mean nothing or it could mean everything.

"You were probably just thinking about work," Vin said then, though that wasn't what he had in mind at all.

"That's what I told her. But she didn't buy it. She's jealous of you. Of us."

Us?

His expression must have shown his surprise, because Chris quickly clarified, "I mean our friendship. The way we are with each other. You know - us."

His thoughts slipped out before he could stop himself. "And how are we, Chris? What are we? What does us really mean?"

Vin watched his friend's face carefully, trying to see if he'd gone too far. But all he could tell in the shadows of the gold light was that Chris was as confused as he was.

"I don't know. I don't know, Vin," Chris finally replied, though he didn't look at him when he spoke. "But I can't quit thinking about that night at the warehouse. And when you were caught in that explosion, I only knew that I'd sooner die than lose you. And now, every time I climb in bed with Mary, it feels like - like a -"

"A lie," Vin completed the sentence for him, his voice soft and low.

Chris raised his eyes. "You, too?"

"Yeah. Me, too."

Pulling his hand across his face, Chris grunted, "What the hell are we gonna do now?"

Vin knew what he'd like to do; he'd like to find out once and for all if that one night they shared was a fluke or as incredible as it seemed in his memories and his dreams. But Charlotte waited in his bed, and Mary waited in Chris's. Even worse, there was a little boy who thought he was getting a new father in a few short weeks.

"I don't know. But we'd best figure it out before . . ."

"Before we ruin more lives," Chris whispered.

"Yeah," Vin said as he pulled himself to his feet. If he was going to get anything straight at all, he couldn't stay there with the light playing off the sharp lines of Chris's face; couldn't breathe in his scent and feel his touch in the warm glimmer of his eyes. Couldn't be near him at all.

But Chris stood, too, and he grabbed hold of his arm, "Wait, Vin." He moved closer then and wrapped his arms around Vin as he spoke in his ear, "Thank you for coming out here tonight."

Stiffening in his arms, Vin could only nod. He was going to pull away, but then Chris put his mouth to his hair, and his voice broke in half when he whispered his name, "Vin."

It was a horrible, wonderful sound, and Vin couldn't think of any way to take away the ache of it other than to put his lips at the source. That was a mistake, he knew, because he would never be able to stop there. Even that night - that one precious night when they'd clawed at each other like there was no possible way to get warm until they'd crawled inside each other's skin - even that night, they'd been careful not to let their mouths touch.

But in a moment of weakness, he gave in and he kissed Chris, and only one thought entered his mind: there was no turning back now.

+++++++

The house was dark and silent when he returned. He expected no less, still Chris breathed a sigh of relief as he let himself in the back door and headed for the couch. As he laid down and draped the quilt over his shivering limbs, he couldn't stop himself from running a finger over his lips. Unlike the chilled skin on his arms and legs, his lips burned, the heat of Vin's kiss lingering as surely as the dying embers in his fireplace.

What had they gotten themselves into? And how were they going to get out of it?

Did he want out of it?

One kiss was all they had shared before Vin had pulled away with a gasp like he'd been shot. And he'd taken off without a backwards glance, leaving Chris standing alone in the barn to contemplate one night, one kiss, and one soft confession in two simple words, "a lie".

He supposed one reason this was all so difficult for him was because it was so unusual. He'd never in his life shied away from who he was or what he was. Never tried to be something he wasn't, never pretended, never faked, never followed the crowd. Like most young men, he'd experimented from time to time, and yes, he'd inhaled, and yes, he'd done it with a man once or twice - okay, maybe three times - and he didn't give a rat's ass what anyone thought about it. He was Chris Larabee, for better or worse, and he knew that the worse more often outweighed the better.

But this was different. This was something he'd never seen before or felt before; this was a Chris Larabee he wasn't sure he knew or understood. Not because Vin was a guy - although it was definitely a surprise that he could feel such a strong physical attraction to another man this late in the game. No, the problem was that he'd let himself get caught up in the dream of a new life and he'd taken two innocent people along for the ride. It was one thing to screw up things for himself; he'd done that plenty of times and paid the price for it. But it was something else entirely to take other people down with him. Mary, Billy . . .Vin.

Sleep remained elusive as the thoughts turned in his head, and by morning, he still had no answers about what he was going to do. But to his dismay, the matter was taken out of his hands. He heard Mary rustling about in the kitchen with the rising of the sun, and he sat up on the edge of the couch, trying to prepare himself for round two of the argument he was sure awaited him.

But Mary slipped into the room, handed him a cup of coffee, and said without an ounce of emotion in her voice, "I'm taking Billy back home. I mean, back to our home. We'll tell everyone that I decided to postpone the wedding indefinitely. I'm not sure anymore that I want to live out here or that I want to live with a man whose life is in constant jeopardy. All of that's true, anyway," she added.

Chris couldn't mask his surprise, and he knew his voice sounded wrong when he mumbled, "And Billy?"

For the first time, the stony expression on Mary's face cracked, but the moment was short-lived as she stiffened her spine and replied, "Children deal with divorce all the time and they survive. I'm asking you to bow out of his life gradually, however - please don't cut him off entirely until he -he's ready."

"Mary -"

But she was gone.

Could it be that simple? No, of course not. How could everything have changed so suddenly? Had he not laid with Mary the night before last? Made love to her in their bed? Had he not left this same house only yesterday morning with a kiss to her cheek and a hug for her son? Why had everything crumbled in the space of a few hours?

Because he'd said Vin's name instead of hers? Was that a reason to throw out everything they had and everything they'd planned?

His first instinct was to throw the mug across the room in anger. He hadn't even figured out his feelings when she'd decided for him. But then he remembered who he'd called in the middle of the night. It hadn't taken any thought at all to reach out to Vin when he was troubled. He hadn't been able to wait for Vin to get there, either - had begun pacing the drive the minute Vin hung up. And he would have stayed in the barn all night with his arms wrapped around Vin, would likely be kissing Vin still, had he been given the chance.

And Mary knew. Maybe not that he and Vin had acted on their feelings for each other physically, but she knew that they were connected in a way that left little room for anyone else. Early in their relationship, Mary had expressed that she would not compete with his dead wife. How like her to realize, even before he knew it himself, that it was Vin she was competing with instead.

Yes, Mary was smart and strong, and she'd rise above this. Probably start dating that Gerard fellow - some friend of her late husband's who didn't beat around the bush in expressing his admiration for her. That would be alright. He seemed to be the decent sort, and he had a daughter, too, which might be good for Billy.

Chris sat back on the couch as the enormity of what had happened in the last twelve hours hit him. He was no longer engaged, no longer committed. He was free to explore whatever this thing was between him and Vin.

But Vin wasn't. And Charlotte wasn't likely to give in as easily as Mary. She was as emotionally unstable as Mary was strong.

She was also dangerous.

+++++++

The old jeep had sputtered to a halt in front of his apartment building nearly an hour before, but Vin couldn't make a move to leave the vehicle. At least, not until his teeth started chattering so hard that it made his head hurt. He had to have lost his mind, freezing his ass off in a car, going out to Larabee's ranch in the middle of the night, kissing Chris like there was no tomorrow . . .

He peered up at the window to his apartment. No use putting it off; he had to tell her. No matter what went down with Chris, it wasn't fair to use Charlotte any longer.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly 4am when he entered the bedroom, stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, and slipped into his sweats.

Charlotte reached for him as he eased onto the bed and moaned, "Where you been, Baby? I missed you." She laid her head on his chest and sighed.

He couldn't bring himself to touch her, but neither could he move away. "Had t' go out," he said, hoping it would be enough.

It wasn't. She lifted her head and met his eyes, "At this time of night? Where?"

"One of the boys needed me. It's alright. Don't worry. Go back t' sleep."

She kissed his neck and ran her hand down his flat stomach and under the waist band of his sweat pants. "Well, since we're awake . . ."

He could do it. The taste of Chris was so strong on his lips that he knew that alone would be enough to arouse him. She could ride him like she liked, and he could pretend . . .

"No," he said, as he caught her hand. "I'm tired. I have t' get up in a few hours."

"Ah, you're no fun," she groaned. But she rolled off him and mumbled as she went back to sleep, "I'll shower with you when you get up then."

She liked that, too, when he held her up against the wall of the shower. For the quiet, unassuming type, she liked it rough - wherever she could get it, whenever he would give it to her. It was no mystery why Richmond held onto to her like he had. Most men would kill for a lover like Charlotte.

But he knew now that she'd never be enough for him. Chris might stay with Mary, might regret their conversation, might never touch him again, but it wouldn't matter. He couldn't live a lie any longer.

He tossed and turned for another hour before finally giving up. To his relief, Charlotte didn't wake up when he showered, and he was able to get dressed and slip out the door without her knowledge. The conversation would have to come later, after he'd had coffee and fresh air and time to think.

But he by-passed the Starbucks and headed straight for the office. There was comfort to be gained in the familiarity of his usual routine. For a little while anyway, he could act like it was just another day. The men came in then, one by one, with Chris last in line, and any pretense of normality vanished with his appearance.

"Hell, Chris, you look like somethin' the cat dragged in," Buck teased upon getting a look at Chris's haggard face. "You must've rocked Mary's world all night, Stud!"

The others chuckled, but Vin kept his head down. At least until Ezra chimed in, "Mr. Tanner looks equally exhausted. Do tell, Gentlemen - allow us single men to live vicariously through your exploits."

Vin felt the heat flood his face, but fortunately he was spared from answering when Chris replied, "Actually, I didn't sleep well last night. I have something I need to tell you all."

Vin looked up sharply at that, inadvertently holding his breath. He really couldn't imagine what Chris was about to say. Surely he hadn't had time to work things out with Mary - or not work things out with Mary - as the case may be.

"Mary and I have decided to postpone - well, more likely cancel - our wedding," Chris continued.

There was a chorus of gasps before Buck moved in front of Chris, gripped his shoulders and said, "Don't do this, Chris. I know you're scared, but -"

"It's not me, Buck. It was Mary's decision."

Throughout the conversation, Chris had avoided his eyes, Vin noted. Until now. Vin felt Chris's gaze move from Buck to him, and he couldn't turn away, even though he knew the others were likely watching every move Chris made at that moment.

"Vin? Can I see you in my office?" Chris asked, and no one said a word as Buck stepped back.

He could hear them muttering behind his back as he got to his feet.

"Damn shame," Josiah said.

"Stupid is what it is," Buck responded. "Them two are made for each other. Why can't they see that?"

Vin didn't hear the others' reactions as he quickly moved into Chris's office and closed the door behind him. Chris was leaning against his desk, one hand on his desk, the other in his hair. He shook his head as Vin entered, like he couldn't quite believe all of this was happening, but he didn't say anything.

"So did she really do it?" Vin finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yep. Didn't even give me a chance to open my mouth," Chris responded, more than a little incredulous.

"I'm sorry." It seemed like the right thing to say, even if it wasn't exactly true. Although he was sorry for Mary and Billy. And that Chris had to go through this.

Chris pulled himself up to his full height and looked him in the eye. "What about you? And Charlotte?"

Vin dipped his head. "Ain't - uh - ain't really talked to her. Yet."

"Yet? You sayin' you're - uh - gonna talk to her?"

"Yeah. I am."

"You sure? Because you don't have to. I mean, just because Mary and I have split up doesn't mean- "

"I'm sure, Chris. I was sure before I came in here this morning."

Chris held his gaze for a long moment, measuring his words. "Well, alright, but be careful. She's, well, I hate to say this, but she's a little - crazy."

"She is? You really think so?" He knew Chris wasn't particularly fond of Charlotte, but he figured it was mostly because of the drama with Richmond. The bomb probably didn't help her case, either, even though that really wasn't her fault.

It took Chris no time at all to reply, though. "Yes, I do."

"You thought that all along?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Like what? Like this is a mistake, Vin? Like I told you the first time you were with her when you told me to mind my damn business or you were gonna do something you'd regret?"

Vin shrugged sheepishly. "Somethin' like that."

"I thought you were happy with her. Or as happy as you get."

"What the hell does that mean? As happy as I get?"

"Hell, Vin, I don't know. It's kind of hard to tell with you. Except for maybe that one night . . ."

Vin met his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, that was a good night. So . . . you really think she's crazy?"

Chris smirked, but didn't reply.

Finally Vin admitted with a sigh, "I guess she doesn't always fire on all cylinders." He looked at Chris meaningfully. "Guess I'm attracted to people that are a little bit -off."

"Guess I deserve that."

"Guess you do."

Chris pulled his hand through his hair and blew out a long breath. "This is insane, you know that, right?"

"I know."

"We should take some time - a few weeks - to - to work out - stuff. It's not easy ending a relationship. Shouldn't jump right into another. Not that I think we - or you - or us - hell, Vin, I don't even know what I'm sayin'."

Vin wanted to touch him so bad he could hardly stand it. But he kept his distance and said, "A few weeks sounds about right." In reality, it sounded like an eternity. But they'd waited this long, what were a few more weeks? What could happen in fourteen days?

+++++++

The day was endless. Buck came in his office no less than three times, determined to get the "real" story from him. Chris was pretty certain that Buck wasn't ready for the real story - he wasn't sure he was ready for it himself, when it came down to it. In any case, he couldn't think of a good way to say Mary left him because he was muttering Vin's name in his sleep instead of hers, so he spent the majority of his day fending off Buck's well-meant but aggravating questions and advice.

If that wasn't bad enough, Josiah couldn't help giving his two cents, which mostly consisted of a bunch of nonsense about change and chance - and Chris nearly snorted when he thought about the change he was hoping to make with Vin if given the chance. How would Josiah see that kind of "seizing the moment"?

Of course Nathan couldn't get through the day without reminding him that he had a history of ulcers and migraines and that stress was a very, very bad thing. He supposed next he would find out Ezra had been taking bets on whether the wedding would actually take place, or that JD would bebop through his door and offer to set him up with a friend of Casey's.

He was spared the last two indignities, however, just as he was spared Vin's presence for the remainder of the day. Normally, Tanner would enter his office at least once an hour to get away from his teammates' bickering, or to stretch his restless legs, or to ask a question or offer a comment or just to be there. Chris didn't realize until then how very much he looked forward to seeing Vin's face peering in through the door when he looked up from his desk.

But Tanner was steering clear of him now, and it was just as well. Chris couldn't focus as it was, and now that he'd acknowledged how attracted he was to his best friend, he knew that having the man in front of him, untouchable, might be a torture akin to water-boarding.

He finally gave up any pretense of working by mid-afternoon. No one offered any resistance when he checked out early and headed home. Mary and Billy were already gone by the time he got there, and it was almost as if the last few months had never happened. But Billy's colt was still there - always would be, if Mary allowed it - and he had to swallow a lump in his throat when he remembered how excited the little boy had been when the animal was born. It wasn't right, the way children were caught up in their parents' problems, but better now, he told himself, than after a marriage that would have been a disaster.

The next few hours flew by, as they always did when he buried himself in a task. The horses' stalls were cleaned, everything in the barn swept free of grime and put away, and the grass mowed by the time the sun finally started to set. It could no longer be avoided then, the lonely trek into the empty house, and for a moment, he regretted what he'd done. The fact that Mary had been the one to turn the whole thing over seemed a minor detail at the moment - it was his indiscretion that brought it all about, after all.

Indiscretion. Now that was a stupid word for his friendship with Vin. Okay, so maybe it was more than a friendship; call it a relationship then. Even though technically they'd done nothing wrong. Or at least, he didn't think they had. That one night was months ago -before he and Mary had officially become engaged. And it wasn't like they'd had sex, exactly. Not in the literal, technical sense, anyway. Or was it? So yeah, they both got off that night - no doubt about that. He grunted at the thought, choosing for the moment to ignore the growing tightness in his jeans. In fact, it was pretty damn good, considering it wasn't sex. Technically.

So how good would it be when they did have sex? In the literal, technical, actual sense? Would Vin even want that? And if so, how, exactly, would he want it? Chris mulled those thoughts over, already replacing the cold emptiness of his vacant home with the warm, inviting image of Vin having coffee in his kitchen, Vin watching tv on his couch, Vin lying naked in his bed . . .

She'd done the right thing, Mary had. No doubt about it. She hadn't even been gone twenty-four hours and already he only had thoughts for Vin. Too bad he had to wait fourteen damn days to do anything about it. Now whose brilliant idea was that? He and Vin had been dancing around each other for years now - why the hell did they need two more weeks? Might not look good to the outside world, but who needed to know? No, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted, and he was starting to get some definite ideas about how he wanted him. Literally. Technically.

+++++++

"You don't mean that, Vin. You're just tired. Come on, now, let's go to bed. I'll make you forget-"

"No, Charlotte. It's over. I mean it. And I'm sorry."

Her lip quivered and her eyes flashed, but she didn't look away. She was stunned, maybe a little confused, and how could he blame her? He hadn't exactly given her any idea that every moment he spent with her, he dreamed he was with Chris instead.

"But I'm ready this time. I mean it, Vin. I'll get the divorce and marry you. We can go to Brazil like we planned. You know you want that."

He didn't. He never had. But he'd gone along when Charlotte first suggested it for the simple reason that he couldn't bear the thought of being near Chris and Mary. "No, Charlotte," he said again, more softly this time, though he suspected neither his voice nor his eyes disguised the sudden hardness of his heart. What did that say about him? What kind of man could be so cruel? So callous? He'd given her nothing, really - no indication, no warning.

It would be a kindness in the end, he reminded himself. Because it couldn't work, could never have withstood the test of time, considering how he felt about Chris. Amazing how it had all changed in less than twenty-four hours; what he'd hidden even from himself for years, now seemed so natural, so easy, so possible.

"I don't believe you," Charlotte protested. "Whatever it is, whatever I've done- "

Vin pulled her hands from around his neck and replied, "It's not you. It's me. I can't - I don't -"

She put her fingers to his lips to keep him from completing the sentence. "Don't say it," she breathed.

He turned his back on her and mumbled, "It's best this way. Do you have somewhere to go? Do you need money?"

It seemed to be long minutes before he heard her gulp and reply, "I don't need anything from you."

And in what had to be the most uncomfortable fifteen minutes of his life, he stood by as she hurriedly threw her things in a suitcase before walking out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

"Well, that went well," he muttered sarcastically under his breath. But in truth, it had went far better than he'd thought it would. There had been no arguing, no fits of temper, and relatively little drama. Could it be that easy?

"She's crazy," Chris's words reverberated in his head. Okay, so maybe she was a bit unusual, but she'd let go easy enough - for now anyway - and that was all that mattered. He was free. With a deep sigh, he sat down on his couch, looked around at his empty apartment and tried to feel remorseful. It just wasn't right to feel relief, not after all they'd shared. In fact, there probably wasn't a square foot of carpet or single piece of furniture that they hadn't initiated. Charlotte was an imaginative lover - a damn genius when it came to sex.

It probably wouldn't be that way with Chris. The creative, imaginative, hot sex part, he meant. Hell, he and Chris would probably have trouble at first just figuring out where to put all their spare parts.

Would Chris even want to have sex? It sure seemed that he did - but how, exactly would he want it? The question - with its array of possible answers - brought an uncomfortable tightness to his chest and a burning sensation to his groin. Why was he even thinking about this? Charlotte had just walked out and he was already contemplating how he and Chris would go about consummating their relationship.

Well that was stupid. There was no relationship to consummate, after all. Not yet. Maybe not ever. A lot could happen in two weeks. Chris could change his mind. Mary could come begging and Billy could come crying and Chris could give in. Give up. Change his mind.

Or it could be Charlotte who turned it inside out. If she really was crazy, she could go to desperate straights. Go postal. Or - oh shit-she could claim she was pregnant. Sweat immediately beaded on his forehead at the thought. No, she wasn't that bad. He'd just watched too many bad movies.

It would work out, he told himself. Fourteen days from now, he and Chris could finally explore this odd attraction between them. Maybe they'd find out it was all just a fluke - that they didn't belong together at all. They'd laugh it off and tell each other that maybe Charlotte wasn't the only crazy one, and then - God willing - they'd go back to being best buds. Pards.

Or maybe in fourteen days . . .

The knock on his door startled him so badly that he nearly jumped off the couch. It had to be her - back already to wreak the havoc she'd been too stunned to get to the first time around. He took a breath and opened the door - and was nearly knocked over by a lean figure in black brushing past him.

"She's gone, right?" Chris asked as he pulled the door shut behind him. "I mean, I saw her leave. Did you tell her?"

Vin blinked in astonishment, nodded, and stammered, "Uh . . . Yeah . . .What -"

But he didn't get a chance to finish the question before Chris pushed him up against the wall. His heart thumped in his chest as he waited for it; the savage attack of his lips that was sure to come as Chris hovered close, their hot breaths steaming the air between them. But Chris remained where he was, his face inches away, one hand tangled in Vin's shirt, the other gripping the back of his neck.

"I don't wanna wait fourteen days, Vin," Chris finally said, his voice low and predatory, coming in for the kill.

And Vin wanted it so bad he could hardly stand it. The niggling thought that it was too soon - Charlotte had only been gone, what? Five minutes? - sat in the back of his mind. But then Chris's lips were finally on his, his tongue urgently pushing between his teeth as his hands tightened their grip, and it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered when Chris levered the hard length of his body firmly against him. It was all about sensation then, and it quickly became apparent that spare parts and hot sex would not be an issue.

As insistent and demanding with his body as he was with every other aspect of his life, Chris herded them determinedly to the bedroom. Once Larabee made up his mind, a damn Mack truck couldn't stop him, Vin thought as Chris pushed him down to the bed. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire, and thoughts swirled about in his head like an F-5 tornado so that he could hardly think, let alone keep himself together. But there was Chris, hovered over him with purpose and clarity - focused and strong and totally together, like always.

So alright then, he'd go along with him. Like always. Only for Chris had he ever allowed himself to be sucked in and taken over; his innate, iron-willed independence bending like a flimsy clothes hanger in Larabee's presence. Only for Chris . . .

"Vin - Vin," Chris muttered between kisses, "this is - crazy -insane - but I - I have t' - I couldn't - I need - you - us - this - "

All right, so maybe Chris was having a wee bit of trouble staying on track, too; maybe his mind and his mouth weren't quite working in tandem. Didn't matter because he had the important stuff down. Vin gasped when Larabee's hands slipped under his t- shirt while his groin slid into a position that could only lead to one possible conclusion. His mind slipped back to the night at the warehouse when an innocent attempt to share body heat had led to a touch, a caress, a grind, a thrust, and oh Lord . . .

He didn't want it to be over so quick - still fully clothed, even - but it would be if Chris didn't slow down. This could be their first time, after all, technically speaking. And Vin thought he should be taking in every earth-shattering second, every ounce of raw emotion, every single incredible touch. It was so different, Chris was so different - hard where Charlotte was soft, rough where she was smooth, and he wanted to savor those differences, turn them around in his head and understand why it didn't matter and why it mattered so very much.

"Mmm - uh -" he tried to work his tongue, but it didn't want to leave Larabee's mouth long enough to get the words out. "Chris - shirt - let's-" He was close then, almost able to gather enough words to make a semi-intelligent suggestion, but then Chris's hand moved to his jeans and -

"Oh my God!"

No, it couldn't be. He was hearing things. Somehow her voice had snuck in between his panting breaths and thumping heart.

"Oh my God!" she said again, but she was laughing this time. "This is why? You kicked me out for him?"

Now he knew it was real because Chris must have heard her, too, considering the way he abruptly climbed off of him and got to his feet.

"Well, don't let me stop you," Charlotte continued before either one of them could speak. "This is hotter than hell. Or it would be if you took some of those clothes off. Trust me on this, Chris, you don't want to miss an inch of Vin's luscious skin. He especially likes it when you lick behind his-"

"Shut up," Vin snarled as he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of bed. He must have left the door to his apartment unlocked after Chris arrived, and she must have come back for something. It didn't matter now, did it? She'd seen, she knew - the damage was done.

Charlotte's pale eyes were fixed on him, amusement warring with something else he couldn't define. "I have to say, at least you left me for someone worthy." She moved to Chris then and ran a finger down his chest. Vin didn't remember Chris unbuttoning his shirt, but the finely toned muscles along his rib cage rippled in the dim light of the bedroom.

Chris still said nothing, though he grabbed Charlotte's hand and pushed her away from him.

She laughed again. "Come on boys, let me join you. I can make it so much better, can't I, Vin? Tell him how good I am, baby. You know it's true. And you know I got enough for both of you."

She probably did, Vin thought with a derisive snort. Too bad she'd never have what either of them needed, or what he truly wanted.

He got to his feet and gripped her arm. "Get what you came back for and go on."

The look in her eyes only reinforced Chris's earlier doubts about her sanity. "Oh, I got a whole lot more than I came back for. The question is, what am I gonna do with it?"

Vin felt Chris move up behind him, watching his back, as he answered her, "Nothin', you hear me? You stay out of this."

"I don't think so," she replied, the heat in the air immediately dissipating with her icy tone.

Chris finally seemed to find his voice. "Do whatever the hell you want to, you crazy bitch. No one will believe you."

It was the wrong thing to say, though Vin couldn't blame Chris for being - well, for being Chris. But Charlotte wasn't one to back down from a challenge; she'd proven her grit when even Dicky O'Shea couldn't scare her off. And Vin had no doubt that the gauntlet had been thrown - and he was the unlikely prize.

+++++++

Buck didn't call before ringing his doorbell, and Chris had half a notion not to answer. It wasn't even ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, after all. But since he'd gone a second night with no sleep, he figured he might as well let Buck get whatever it was off his chest so he'd go away and leave him alone.

Even though alone was the last place he wanted to be.

He'd practically followed Charlotte out Vin's door the night before. Saying the moment had been ruined was the understatement of the year. Vin had seemed - well, horror-struck was probably the word - and Chris could have kicked himself for his impatience. He should have waited a few days at least, but his body got carried away. And what if he'd blown it with Vin for good?

None of that had anything to do with Buck being at his door, however, so with a deep groan, he reluctantly turned the dead bolt and motioned for his friend to come in. "This better be good," he muttered as he turned his back on the man and headed to the kitchen.

"Oh, I don't think 'good' is the word I would use," Buck replied as he followed along behind him.

Chris didn't like the ominous tone in Buck's voice, but he wasn't going to face the man and whatever bad news he brought without a cup of coffee. He poured himself a mug full of the steaming brew and handed another to Buck before looking up and raising his brow, giving the other man the go-ahead.

"Got a late night visit from Vin's filly," Buck started out.

"Oh?" Chris responded, trying to act surprised and failing miserably.

"Yeah, and why is it you don't seem all that shocked?"

"Vin broke it off with her. Figured she'd go somewhere. Latch onto someone." That sounded plausible, and Buck must have thought so, too, because he nodded.

"Yeah, she told me that. And she didn't waste no time makin' her move, neither. Damn, that woman can . . . well, let's just say I get it now- why Vin took t' her so fast and why he took her back a second time."

Chris narrowed his eyes, though he was secretly grateful that the discussion was taking this kind of turn. "You sayin' you slept with her the same night Vin cut her loose? That's low, Buck, even for you."

"Nah," Buck shook his head. "I didn't do it - but she had some pretty interestin' ideas, I gotta tell you. She didn't make it easy t' say 'no'."

"So why are you telling me all of this? Couldn't it wait til Monday?"

"Why? You got somethin' else you need to do this weekend? Seein' how you don't have a wedding t' plan . . ."

"Get on with it, Buck. I'm not in the mood for head games this morning."

Serious now, Buck replied. "Neither am I. So how about you tell me if Charlotte's crazy as a bed bug or if she's on the money. Cause I got a feeling the picture she was paintin' was more like a photograph than a Picasso."

Damn Ezra for taking Buck to that art exhibit, Chris thought with a sigh. No use avoiding the truth, though. "If she told you she caught me makin' out with Vin, it's true."

"Making out? That what you're callin' it?"

"Don't matter what you call it, we were doing it and that's not all. I wanted it all, Buck. Didn't get it. Probably won't get it now, but I wanted it. I want it - I want him -still."

"Damn it, Chris, can't you ever do nothin' simple? Couldn't just marry Mary and do it the easy way? Always gotta mix it up, don't ya?"

"That all you got to say? Don't you want t' remind me of something?"

Buck's eyebrows came together in a thick line. "Like what?"

"Oh well, let's see - like Vin's a man. Not to mention our friend and teammate."

"Figured you already knew that. If y' didn't, I reckon you found out real quick last night."

"Not funny, Buck."

"Hell no, it ain't funny. But it also ain't like I'm blind, deaf, and dumb, Chris. You and Vin been dancin' around each other for years. I can't say I like how complicated this is likely to make things for the rest of us, but you bein' happy is all that matters."

"It is?" It seemed like a foreign concept to Chris - that his happiness should matter at all to anyone. And could Buck really be so nonchalant about him and Vin?

Buck rolled his eyes and turned away, but seconds later he turned back. "What do you mean that you probably won't get him now? Surely you're not gonna let that nutcase come between you?"

Chris scrubbed his weary eyes with his hand and sighed. "Not me. But I'm not sure about Vin."

"Don't worry about Vin, he'll come around. He's had it bad for you since you first met. It's Charlotte we gotta figure out what to do with. She could make things ugly - real ugly - and you know I hate ugly."

He didn't have a chance to reply because just then Buck's cell phone rang. Chris went for another cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine might clear his head and wipe out the disturbing memory of Charlotte's bitter laugh and the promise of retribution in her eyes.

But his head spun back towards Buck when he heard his old friend gasp, "What? How the hell . . . ?" A long string of expletives followed before Buck finally took a breath and listened to whoever was on the other end. After what seemed like forever to Chris, Buck finally spoke again in a ragged, strained voice, "Yeah. I'm with him right now, in fact. Just hold tight til we get there."

Buck's face was chalk white when he turned, and Chris instinctively sucked in a breath. "What? What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's Charlotte. She's dead, Chris. And they've brought Vin in for questioning."

There were a whole list of things Chris had worried about during the night; worst-case scenarios he'd dreamed up with possible solutions for every one. Vin might change his mind - but a single kiss would likely fix that, considering the way Tanner had dueled with his tongue the previous night. Charlotte might spread the word to anyone who would listen - but there had been rumors about him and Vin for years and no one yet had the nerve to actually go down that road and confront them. The worst he'd allowed himself to consider, however, was that she'd set Vin up to be physically harmed -and that damn explosion had replayed time and again as the night wore on. He couldn't let that happen; he swore that Vin wouldn't be hurt again, if he had to encase Tanner in a suit of armor and hire twenty-four hour bodyguards to keep him safe.

But Charlotte dead? Never could he have foreseen this. How? Why?

It made sense, he told himself as he hurriedly dressed and followed Buck out the door, that they'd question Vin. Nothing to get alarmed about. Tanner was her former lover, after all. Not even 'former' to anyone who knew about them; Chris seriously doubted that she'd had time to inform anyone other than Buck about the break-up.

It had to be about the case. They'd missed another loose end. And she'd refused the opportunity to join the witness protection program. Even when Vin seemed totally smitten with her, he'd tried to get her to go away and assume a new identity. She was just too damn stubborn. Or maybe, Chris had to reluctantly admit, maybe she was as hopelessly in love with Vin as he was.

In love. The words wrapped around his brain as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest of Buck's vehicle. He was in love with Vin. It was so complicated and yet so simple, so surprising and yet so expected, so unnatural and yet so meant to be. How could he have been so blind for so long?

"Why didn't I figure this out sooner?" he muttered under his breath. If he had, maybe none of this would have happened. Mary and Billy would have been spared, and Vin might never have taken up with Charlotte to begin with.

Buck kept his eyes on the road, but he shook his head. "Don't matter now, Chris. What's done is done. I never did care much for Charlotte, but no woman deserves to be raped and murdered and left lyin' in an alley."

With a gasp, Chris replied, "She was raped?"

"They think so. Looks that way."

Chris sat up straight and the veins in his forehead began to throb. "This wasn't a hit."

Buck slid him a glance. "Don't sound like it, does it? Probably ain't related to that other mess she was involved with. Which makes Vin . . ."

"A prime suspect," Chris groaned.

Buck didn't voice his agreement because he didn't have to; domestic violence statistics spoke for themselves. Chris could only imagine how much worse it would look for Vin if anyone found out that Charlotte had witnessed him engaged in sexual acts with his male supervisor. The very thought made his stomach turn. And he didn't feel any better when he arrived at the police station and learned that Vin was already sequestered with the investigating officer and Assistant Deputy Travis' private attorney.

Josiah greeted him and Buck at the desk with a solemn nod. "They're talking to him now. But I don't think he knows anything. Nothing helpful, anyway."

"Can you catch us up to speed, Josiah?" Buck asked.

"Wish I could. All I know is that a jogger found her body behind a dumpster a few blocks from Vin's apartment. She'd been beaten. Looks like she was raped, too," he choked. He took a deep breath and added, "Vin's takin' it pretty hard."

"Yeah - well - maybe not quite as hard you think," Buck muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" It was obvious by the edge in his voice that Josiah didn't care for Buck's tone.

"Vin tossed her out last night - ended their relationship. Or whatever the hell you call what they had."

Josiah's eyes widened. "What? He didn't say that. Didn't even mention it when I talked to him this morning."

"How'd you get involved before Chris?" Buck asked, verbalizing Chris's own question before he had the chance.

"Travis called me. Told me there was a situation and to come on down. Didn't even know it was about Charlotte and Vin until I got here. I figured he couldn't get a hold of you, Chris."

Chris shook his head. "He didn't try." So things were already messier than he'd thought. Obviously Travis was nursing some resentment over his former daughter-in-law. Now that he thought on it, he hadn't spoken with the man since he and Mary had broken off their engagement.

"Now hold on, Chris," Josiah said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know what you're thinking, but Travis is too much the professional to let something personal get under his skin. He called me because he knew I could get here faster - that's all. He likely wanted someone with Vin as soon as possible."

"Maybe," Chris agreed, already having decided it didn't matter a hill of beans what Travis thought. All that mattered now was Vin. Josiah was right - Vin would take this hard, and he was probably finding some backhanded way to blame himself.

Just then, the doors opened and Vin was escorted out by an officer and the attorney. The latter turned to Chris and stated, "He's free to go for now. But Orin wants him in your custody, Agent Larabee. He says you're to get a place in town and lay low until you hear from him."

Chris nodded, though his focus was on Vin. "You okay, Vin?" he asked.

Vin swallowed and rasped, "Can we just go?"

"You can both stay with me," Josiah offered.

Chris gave him a grateful nod; he didn't think he could take the long drive back to the ranch just then, and he was sure Vin couldn't. Tanner looked like he was dead on his feet.

None of them said anything on the short drive to the mission. And once they arrived, only Josiah spoke again. "Make yourselves at home, boys," he said, as he headed for the kitchen with Buck tracing his path.

If he expected an argument from Vin about getting some rest, Chris was disappointed; Tanner shuffled up the stairs to the room he customarily took whenever he stayed with Josiah. Chris plodded along behind, trying to decide what the hell he was going to say. After he'd closed the door of the bedroom to give them some privacy, he finally settled on a repeat of his earlier question. "Are you okay, Vin? You wanna talk about it?"

Shaking his head, Vin replied, "No. And no."

Chris sat down next to him and waited him out, knowing sooner or later, Vin would speak his mind.

Finally, Vin turned tear-filled eyes towards him and whispered, "She's dead, Chris."

"I know. It's a terrible shock. But it'll be alright. We'll figure it out."

Vin shook his head. "I don't understand. How could this happen? Why? I mean, I know she had her problems, but she was alright. She really wasn't so bad. She really wasn't crazy. She was just - she just -"

Chris slipped an arm loosely around Vin's shoulders. "I know, I know. I'm sorry I said those things about her. It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we find out who did it."

"They think I did it," Vin said, his eyes wide. "That's what they think, Chris. She was only blocks from my apartment. Why? Who would do such a horrible thing?"

"I don't know. But I promise we'll find out. Just tell me, Vin, did something else happen last night? After I left, did you see her again?"

"Yeah. She came back. Said she'd let it go - let me go - if I gave her 'one for the road'."

"I hope you told her where to-"

"I did it." Vin dipped his head, and his voice was so low that Chris could barely make out the words.

"You did what?"

Vin turned his face to him, and his eyes seemed to have aged years in the space of a few hours. "I fucked her."

It wasn't like Vin to speak so crudely, but that was irrelevant at the moment. Chris couldn't believe what he'd heard. "What? After - after we -? I thought you were through with her. I thought you and I . . . did I misunderstand? Am I that stupid? How could you, Vin?"

"You wanna know how? With her on top, the way she likes it. The way I like it because I can close my eyes and think about you. I figure that's how you'd want it - can't imagine you'd let anybody ride you. And that's fine by me. All I ever wanted was you -any way I could get you. So if I had to let Charlotte get her kicks one more time, I had no problem with that."

Chris tried to buy it; tried to believe it. But there was no way he could lay down with Mary now, not knowing what he knew, feeling what he felt for Vin. No way in hell.

"You expect me to believe that you thought about me when you were with her? Hell, Vin, that's about as far- fetched a lie as I've ever been told. Ain't no fuckin' way you could confuse me and a woman. I'm not proud, but I'm damn sure of that fact. If you got it up for her, it's not because you were thinking about me."

Vin lowered his head to his hands and mumbled, "Believe what you want, Larabee. Fact is, they're gonna find my DNA in her. She was screamin' at me when she left about how she was gonna make my life miserable - and you know I got paper-thin walls at my place. And I got no alibi."

"And you got no motive, either," Chris responded hotly. Damn it all, things were happening too fast. He couldn't get his arms around one emotion before he was slammed with another. Was it only two days ago that he was still engaged to Mary and his world turned in perfect order?

Vin snorted. "Aren't you forgettin' somethin', Pard? She saw me gettin' it on with my boss - my male boss. It gets out and we could lose our jobs, our friends, our reputations."

"We won't lose our friends, we can get new jobs, and when the hell have you ever cared about your reputation?"

"I don't care about any of that shit and you know it, Larabee!" Vin nearly shouted. "But I do care about you, whether you believe it or not. Wouldn't be no stretch for anyone's mind t' believe I'd kill for you."

He didn't believe for a second that Tanner had killed his former lover, but he wondered now just how far Vin would go to protect him. "And would you? Kill for me?"

Vin's eyes were bright with anger and fear and grief. But his voice didn't waver when he replied, "Kill for you, die for you - yeah, Chris. You name it, I'd do it. Got it bad for you, Cowboy. Always have. Why do you think I trusted you right off? Told you about my troubles in Texas? How many bullets have I put through men who had a bead on you? How many?"

"That's different," Chris scoffed. "In the line of duty -"

"You think it's easy killin' another living soul? You think I enjoy it? You think that's why I do it?" Vin yelled, jumping to his feet.

"Vin-"

"Y'all can think what you like, but I never beat anyone t' death with my hands. God knows, I never touched a woman. She - she threatened t' take it all unless I gave her what she wanted, so I did it. It was all a big damn lie, anyway - what was one more time t' me?"

The disjointed conversation showed just how exhausted Vin was; holding it together by a thread, and now wasn't the time for any further discussion. "Alright, alright," Chris soothed, getting to his feet and gripping Vin's shoulders. "We'll straighten it out later. For now, you rest. Try to sleep a few hours and maybe when you wake up, we'll have something more concrete to go on."

Vin looked at him warily, but his knees buckled and he collapsed back to the bed. "Just gonna close my eyes a few minutes," he grumbled petulantly as his head hit the pillow.

Chris nodded and turned to leave, but Vin gripped his hand. "I didn't tell 'em," he said softly. "I didn't tell 'em what we did, what she saw. Should I have, Chris? I didn't know. I got so nervous, and I didn't know what you'd want me to do."

The trust in the blue eyes nearly made his own knees buckle; Vin was looking to him for answers he couldn't give because he didn't know himself. Could they keep the truth about them out of this? Did Charlotte have time to tell anyone other than Buck? "It's alright," he finally replied, resting his palm against Vin's cheek. "We'll figure it out after you rest."

Chris slipped out of the room just as Vin's eyes slid closed. Pausing in the hallway, he rubbed his own tired eyes. Like Vin, he'd barely slept for two nights running. But unfortunately, that wasn't likely to change in the foreseeable future. Even if the Denver PD got lucky and found the culprit that day, Vin had some tough days ahead of him. And he'd be right beside his friend, in spite of his disappointment over Vin's actions the night before.

He'd slept with her. Fucked her, to use Vin's own crude description. How could he do it? How could he possibly be with her after they'd finally admitted and almost acted on their feelings? Maybe Vin wasn't all that sure about the two of them, after all; maybe he cared about Charlotte more than he'd let on.

Maybe he was crazy to believe he and Vin were ever meant to be together. But the lump in his throat and the ache in his heart prayed differently.

+++++++

He knew Chris was disappointed in him; knew he'd blown it for good. How could he possibly explain that he'd given in to Charlotte because he thought it would be better to send her away with something? That he felt guilty for the way he'd treated her? That it was Chris he wanted all along and he would have done anything, anything to have a chance with him?

It didn't matter now because Charlotte was dead. He closed his eyes and turned over onto his side, but nothing could take away the reality of that simple statement. Charlotte was dead. Not even twelve hours ago, she was writhing on top of him, taking him, loving him with all she had, even though she knew it was the last time. Even though she knew he didn't really want her.

He was scum. Dirt. No, worse than that. He'd betrayed Chris, used Charlotte, and now Chris was through with him and Charlotte was dead.

They said she was raped, but was she really? Or were they just seeing what he'd done to her? Was he rough with her? He didn't think so, but he was tired and desperate and he wanted Chris so badly -could see him in his mind and it was Chris he imagined, in spite of the obvious differences between man and woman. In spite of Chris's assertion that it was a lie.

Charlotte was dead.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he remembered how she was when he first met her. They'd shared so much. He'd convinced himself in the last few days that it was only sex, but he had to admit now that there was more to it than that. He liked the way she laughed at herself, her honesty, her courage. Sometimes she looked at him like he made the sun rise, and he couldn't remember anyone ever looking at him like that before. And when he'd tried his best to get her to join the witness protection program, she'd told him she'd rather die than leave him.

Of course, she did leave him. She went back to her husband, for awhile at least, and - dear God - Richmond! Did he know yet?

Vin sat straight up in bed. It had to have been him! No hit man would take the time to rape and beat his mark. No, this was personal. It was Richmond that killed her. Richmond must have followed her from his apartment. They'd argued like they always did, she'd pulled away, and he'd struck her in anger. Taken her in a filthy deserted alley, then beat her some more. Raped her. Killed her.

Nausea rose up in his throat, but he pushed it back down and climbed to his feet. He had to tell them - they had to go after Richmond before he got away. It seemed to take tremendous effort to propel his body down the stairs and into the kitchen where Buck and Chris and Josiah were gathered, talking solemnly with bent heads.

"Richmond did it," he said, bursting through the doorway before any of them were even aware of his presence.

He was breathing heavily, and a wave of dizziness threatened to bring him to his knees, but he gripped the frame of the door and held tight as Chris rushed forward and spouted, "For God's sake, Vin, sit down."

Vin shook his head. "He did it. I know he did. Call 'em, Josiah. Tell 'em to go after him before he gets away."

Josiah crossed the kitchen in three long strides. "It's not him, Vin," he said in a that low, calm voice he reserved for distraught victims, crack heads, and drunk friends.

"It is! I know it is. Buck, you tell 'em." Sounding desperate now and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. Why didn't they understand? Why weren't they moving?

Chris pushed him down into the chair at the kitchen table and stooped down in front of him. "Listen to me, Vin. Richmond wasn't even in the state. He's on his way now to - to make a positive ID of her body since he's still her next of kin."

Vin narrowed his eyes, trying to take it all in. "No, no," he mumbled. "It has to be him. It has to be. He never could let her go. And you know how he was with her. You saw."

Pity in their eyes and how he hated it, but he knew what he knew.

"Yeah, we saw. We know. But it wasn't him - not this time," Chris said gently.

"Listen boys," Buck interrupted, clearing his throat, "we got another little problem here. I need t' go t' the precinct - tell 'em that Charlotte paid me a visit last night. It could be important when they look at their timeline. And I ain't real sure how much t' say - or not say."

"What?" Vin gasped. "What are you talkin' about, Bucklin?"

Buck pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. "Charlotte came t' my place last night, Vin. Right after you pulled the plug on the two of you. I think she was lookin' for some - uh -comfort."

He knew exactly what kind of comfort Charlotte would expect Buck to provide, and he huffed, "Didn't take her long, did it?"

"She was hurtin', Vin. I was second choice, you know that."

"Did she tell you what she saw?"

Buck started to reply, but Josiah cut in, "Wait a second, what am I missing? What's going on here? What did she see?"

Vin met Chris's eyes. "Just say it - ain't no secret anymore."

Rising to his feet, Chris looked Josiah square in the eye and stated, "Vin and I were acting on our feelings for each other after too damn long. Charlotte saw us, made a scene, and left. I pretty much followed her out."

Josiah plopped into the nearest vacant chair and shook his head. "That's explains a lot," he muttered under his breath.

"She came to me right after that," Buck continued the tale. "She told me all about the two of you. Tried her best to drown her sorrow in my considerable charms, and when I refused, she left."

"She came back t' me then." Vin wasn't sure he could say the rest of it out loud. He felt so stupid and so cheap, especially when Chris turned away from him. "She wanted - she said she'd leave it alone if I - I - gave her what she wanted. Just one more time, she said. I shouldn't have believed her, shouldn't have done it, but it seemed like I owed her that much. Seemed like a small price t' pay if I got Chris in the end."

"What time was that, Vin?" Josiah asked in a low voice.

Vin shrugged. "I reckon she left around 2am or so."

"Jogger found her body at five," Josiah said. "They figured she'd been dead a few hours."

The nausea rose up again as he considered Josiah's words -Charlotte had to have been killed just after she'd left his place. If he'd just her kept there a little longer . . . if he'd let her stay the night and broke it off in the morning . . . if he'd left things alone, she'd still be alive.

"So what do I tell them?" Buck went back to his original question. "Do I tell them what she said about the two of you?"

"No. It has nothing to do with what happened to her," Chris argued.

But Josiah apparently disagreed. "Probably not, but if they find out what she knew, it gives Vin a motive. Do we want to take a chance on that? Or be upfront about it? How ready are the two of you for this?"

Chris finally turned back to Vin, even though he was answering Josiah. "We've hardly had a chance to figure out what 'this' is."

It wasn't right, Vin suddenly realized. Charlotte was dead and all his friends seemed to care about was their sordid little secret. "Anybody here care that a woman is dead?" he spat as he rose to his feet. "She might not have amounted t' much in your books - she sure wasn't no Mary Travis by anyone's standards - but she had feelings. She had hopes and dreams. She grieved for her child and she prayed every day for another. Any of you know that? She could've looked the other way when she saw those gun runners but she didn't. She was a real, living, breathing human being, damn it. And she's dead. She's dead because of me."

"That's bullshit," Chris said, gripping his arm. "She's dead because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had a problem, Vin. She used sex to ease her pain - probably went looking for it the minute she left your bed. None of us here are trivializing her death - it's a terrible tragedy. But it's not your fault any more than it's Buck's for rejecting her or mine for - for - coming to your place last night."

Chris had blushed as he stammered out the end of his sentence, like he'd caught himself from saying something else.

It was all such a mess. Charlotte was dead. He was a suspect. The feelings he and Chris had for each other were barely touched on, barely spoken of, and already under scrutiny. More lies to be told.

Or not.

There were no easy answers, no absolutes, except perhaps for one: while Charlotte's state of mind was in question, there was no doubt about her husband's - Will Richmond was certifiably insane.

And he was on his way.

+++++++

"Chris? Feel like talking for a minute or two?"

Chris took in the somber expression on Josiah's face and almost told the man 'no'. Last thing he needed right now was a sermon. But Vin had dropped off to sleep sitting up on the couch, and Buck had headed for the precinct. It was just a matter of time before Nathan, Ezra and JD arrived, and all hell broke loose. He and Vin would have to come clean about their feelings. It was bound to come out before this was all over, and their friends deserved to hear it first from them.

"All right," Chris reluctantly agreed, following the older man into the kitchen.

Josiah took a seat at the small table and motioned for Chris to join him. When they were both seated with another mug of coffee in front of them, Josiah cleared his throat. "I'm worried, Chris. Richmond could be trouble."

Chris looked up sharply. "What?" This wasn't the conversation he expected to be having with their self-proclaimed ex-preacher.

"He's got a temper. Vin's right about that. And he's bound to lay this on Vin - regardless of the facts."

"Vin's innocent. That neighborhood that time of night - somebody saw something. And if they'd come forward for anyone, they'd come out of the woodwork for Vin. You know how much good he's done there."

Josiah nodded. "I do. I'm not worried about him being convicted. I'm worried about Richmond getting to him before we find his wife's killer."

"I won't let that happen."

"You won't be alone in that. I just think we need to make some plans now to keep Vin under wraps - keep one of us with him at all times."

"Alright. Yeah. That's good, Josiah. Thank you for - for watching out for him."

Leaning forward, Josiah met his eyes and said evenly, "Nothing's changed as far as I'm concerned. You're both my brothers. It doesn't surprise me that you found something more in each other. But you also gotta know, not everyone is gonna see it that way. It would have been better if you could have had some time to prepare for that. As it is, you got some hard times ahead, I'm afraid."

"I can handle it," Chris scoffed. Hell, he'd been through far worse in his life. If someone wanted to kick a little dirt in his face because he loved his best friend, let them.

"I'm sure you can. But Vin's vulnerable right now. He cared for Charlotte - just like you care for Mary. Don't mean he doesn't love you - but you don't bed a woman one day and not grieve for her the next. At least, a man like Vin doesn't."

"I know." He did know. He tried to imagine how he would feel if it was Mary they'd found in an alley, and found it too hard to wrap his mind around. Nothing black and white in this world, though he'd tried a lot of years to make it so. And love was cloudier than most things - indefinable and complicated and messy. He reminded himself of that again when the image of Vin bedding Charlotte came to his mind; he wasn't sure he could get past it . . .

"Let it go, Chris," Josiah said softly. "I know what you're thinking, but you know Vin. You know his heart. He never loved her, though God knows he tried hard enough."

"I guess." His voice was rough as sandpaper, the words caught on the sudden dryness in his throat.

If Josiah wanted to say more, he didn't get the chance as first JD, then Nathan came rushing into the kitchen.

"What the hell's going on, Chris?" JD blurted.

"Yeah. What happened? How's Vin?" Nathan asked.

"Where's Vin, is a better question," Ezra said as he sidled in behind the other two men.

"Charlotte's dead. We don't know yet what happened. Vin's asleep on the couch - and he's pretty shook up, naturally," Josiah replied.

"How did she die?" Nathan asked.

Josiah continued with the details, while JD stared with wide eyes, inserting a "damn" every other word or two. Nathan alternated between nodding and shaking his head, but kept quiet. It was only after several minutes had passed that Chris noticed Ezra had slipped out and not returned. He was just heading out the doorway to go after him, when he smacked into the other man.

"Ezra?"

"He's not there. He's not anywhere," Ezra said, green eyes pinched tight with worry.

"Who?" Chris asked, though the sinking feeling in his stomach answered for him.

"Vin. I've looked everywhere. He's gone."

"He was asleep on the couch just minutes ago!" Chris shouted, as if raising his voice would somehow negate Ezra's assertion.

But it was true; Vin had slipped out while they were talking. And in spite of their best efforts, Chris knew they wouldn't catch him. Vin ran three miles almost every morning, and he was a master at hiding in plain site. Wherever Tanner was going, he'd get there long before they figured out what the hell was going on in that screwed up Texan's head.

Chris could only pray Richmond didn't somehow get to him along the way.

+++++++

Chris would probably kill him, but he couldn't find a reason to care. The man would never forgive him. Oh Chris would try, that was certain; act like they still had a shot at something good and meaningful. But it wouldn't work in the end. Charlotte would always lay in the bed between them.

Charlotte . . .

He'd left the mission with only one thought in mind - to get out and breathe. To think. But another idea came to him as he rounded the corner and saw the outline of the city high-rises in the distance -he had to see her. He had to tell her he was sorry. All he'd ever done was try to protect her, and when it counted most, he'd let her down. Didn't matter that he didn't love her, did it? One thing had nothing to do with the other.

The pavement pounded in a steady rhythm beneath his feet as Vin raced through the alleys of the city. The morgue was forty minutes from the mission on foot, less than half that if he put some effort into it. By the time Chris figured out where he'd gone, he'd have had his time with her. They could do what they wanted with him then; lock him up and throw away the key. The thought brought another swell of nausea, he never could stand the thought of being confined, especially for something he didn't do. And he didn't kill Charlotte. Might have tossed her out in the middle of the night in the worst part of town, but he didn't actually kill her.

He didn't rape her, either. Sure of that now, and if he wasn't so certain Richmond had killed her, he'd think a little harder on what Chris said about her looking for sex to ease her pain. If that was true, then in a way, he had killed her . . .

The morgue was within sight now, so he stopped a minute and put his hands on his knees, taking a moment to catch his breath. Might look suspicious if he went in there slick with sweat and breathing hard. Fortunately, there was a new person working the desk, which made it easier for him to flip open his badge and walk on in without any questions.

They left him alone with her like he asked, and he opened the body bag like it was something he did every day, like this was just another case. Her long hair framed her battered face, and Vin closed his eyes as the memory of how she looked, how she sounded, how she felt when she made love to him rushed over him. No, not love, he reminded himself as his knees grew strangely weak and his head began to spin -sex. Only sex. She'd helped him forget how Chris smiled at Billy and laughed with Mary; the way he came alive in their presence; the way he planned for a future and forgot about his past; the way he loved them both. Because he did love them- of course he did.

And why hadn't he just reminded Larabee of that the other night? Why had he let everything get so out of hand? Why had he let this poor woman pay for his stupid, hopeless desires? "I'm sorry," he breathed, taking her cold hand in his. "I'm so sor-"

The creak of the door opening stopped him mid-sentence, but he couldn't react quickly enough when a man barreled across the room and knocked him to the hard, cement floor.

"Stay away from her, you bastard! Don't touch her!" Will Richmond screamed. "It's your fault she's dead -you killed her! I know you - I know what you are!"

Vin was vaguely aware of someone else yelling in the background, but the hands that were now wrapped around his throat were cutting off his air. A dull roar filled his ears as his vision dimmed.

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over.

"Hey! Are you all right, Agent Tanner? Come on, come on - look at me now. You're all right. That's it. You're all right."

With a grunt, Vin pulled himself up onto his elbows, wincing when throbbing pain in the back of his head made itself known. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. Just - give me a second," he gasped.

"Get him out of here," someone ordered, apparently referring to Richmond. "Take him to the station. Damn fool. I realize you're upset about your wife, Mister, but you don't attack a Federal -"

"No," Vin stated, once he caught sight of Richmond being forcibly restrained by two obviously shaken morgue employees. He voiced his objection more loudly a second time, "No. Leave him be."

"But he attacked you! Don't you want to have him-"

"No. I'm not pressing charges." It wouldn't change anything - and the look in Richmond's eyes told him everything he didn't want to know, didn't want to believe. He didn't do it. Chris was right - someone else killed Charlotte.

Richmond briefly took a moment to narrow his eyes, but then the man's attention went to the body on the table.

Vin struggled to his feet and made his way out of the room, trying in vain to ignore the wrenching sobs of the man who'd attacked him just minutes before.

It wasn't until his legs gave out and he hit the park bench three blocks down the road that it hit him what Richmond had said . . . "I know what you are". Not who you are, not what you did, but "what you are".

Richmond knew. Charlotte must have had time to call him and tell him what she'd seen before she was killed.

His head throbbing, he rubbed his temple with one hand and pulled out his cell phone with the other, quickly hitting Larabee's number.

Chris answered hotly, "Where the hell are you?"

Holding back a sigh, he replied, "Park bench outside the Starbuck's, three blocks from the morgue."

"Stay there. I'm on my way. Travis wants to see us."

Before Vin could even finish uttering, "Okay", the call had ended. He could add Chris being royally pissed off to his mounting list of problems. And Larabee didn't even know yet that their private lie would soon be public knowledge.

He still hadn't worked out how he was going to explain to Chris about Richmond when the black truck pulled up to the curb ten minutes later. And in the stifling silence that followed, he couldn't seem to find his voice as they made the quick drive to their meeting with Orin Travis.

At the door of his office, Travis signaled them to come in with a wave of his hand, and they all three sat down at the small, round conference table in the corner.

"I had a call that I thought you might you be interested in," the older man began cryptically, foregoing any pleasantries. "From William Richmond," he added. There was no change in his stone-faced expression, not a hint at what he was going to say next.

But Vin knew exactly where this conversation was going. So while Chris met the man's gaze with little more than mild interest, Vin turned away, color flushing his cheeks.

"I'm not surprised. He probably couldn't wait to pin this on Vin," Chris replied, conveniently leaving out that Vin had done the same with Richmond.

Travis nodded. "Yes. But what's of interest here is the motive he's attributed to you, Vin."

Vin had to look at the older man now, though he didn't want to. He could hide most things from most people, but not Travis, not here, and not now.

"Motive?" Chris asked, still in the dark - though Vin could see the wheels turning in his head. Another minute and he'd have it worked out.

But Travis spared him the effort by throwing it back on Vin. "If I'm not mistaken, you appear to have something to add to this, Vin," Travis prodded.

With an apologetic look at Chris, Vin licked his lips and replied. "I think Charlotte called him last night and told him - told him something about me and Chris."

"What?" Chris turned to him, his eyes wide. "You didn't think to mention this to me?"

"Didn't get the chance," Vin replied softly.

Travis cleared his throat. "Just tell me if we have a bigger problem here than I'd originally suspected. Tell me if it's true."

"It is," Chris said bluntly.

"Let me clarify," Orin said in a low voice, "you and Vin are involved in a sexual relationship?"

"Not exactly," Chris replied.

"Not exactly? Then what exactly?" A definite edge in their supervisor's voice now as he shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes.

"Charlotte interrupted us, all right? Nothing happened, but it would have - or at least, I think it would have. So say what you need to say, do what you need to do. But understand this - Vin didn't kill Charlotte, and that's really all that matters, isn't it?"

Travis threw Chris' words back at him, "Not exactly." He leaned forward and looked first at Vin, then Chris, and said very slowly, "I need to know if this is something that you plan to continue. And keep in mind that I will have to transfer one of you if your answer is not . . . acceptable."

They hadn't gotten that far; they'd never had the chance to talk about any of this before it blew up in their faces.

"It is," Chris said - at the exact same moment that Vin said, "It's not."

Chris turned to him sharply, anger and hurt in his eyes.

And Vin could hardly bare it. Didn't Chris understand? It was too much. He couldn't give up the team now. Not today. Not with Charlotte dead and Richmond seeking revenge and a murder rap hanging over his head. And what would JD and Nathan and Ezra think about this? About them? Their other teammates needed a chance to weigh in, to at least hear the truth from them. There was Mary to consider, too - she didn't deserve the ugly gossip that would undoubtedly roar to life when word got out that her marriage was called off because her fiancé was screwing around with another man.

Too much, too much, and his head was killing him - the memory of Richmond throwing him to the ground, the hard crack of his skull on the cement, coming back to him. His stomach churned, and he swallowed bile as Travis cleared his throat and asked the question again, "Do you plan to continue with this - this liaison?"

"No," Chris breathed, his gaze fixed to the table so it was impossible for Vin to read his eyes or gauge his expression. "We do not."

Travis nodded approvingly but kept silent, though Vin could see that the man was fighting the urge to say more.

Chris finally looked up at his supervisor and said, "Vin broke it off with Charlotte last night. She would have said anything to anyone to make his life miserable."

"Fine. We can keep it at that for now. Vin hasn't been charged with the crime, so there's no need to take it further at this point. But I will expect full disclosure with the proper authorities, if it comes to that."

"Of course," Chris replied, while Vin mumbled his agreement.

"One more thing," Travis continued, his eyes scrutinizing Vin. "What happened to your neck, Vin?"

Vin instinctively raised his hand and pulled his collar tighter around him; apparently Richmond's hands had left their mark. He thought about lying, but knew that would only make Chris more angry. "Met up with Richmond at the morgue. He got a little -upset."

"Damn it, Vin!" Chris shouted, jumping to his feet. "The man's been looking for a reason to get at you for months. Did you have to make it easy for him?"

"I didn't go there for him!" Vin yelled back as he stood up and faced Chris.

"So why then? For her? How the hell did you think you could help her now? You gonna let her control you from the grave, too?"

"I don't expect you t' understand," Vin snapped.

"Well then you expect right because I don't understand," Chris returned.

They stood facing each other, a force like an electrical current fusing them together, sizzling the air between them. Vin wanted to look away, but couldn't. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, plead for understanding, demand an apology, cry for another chance, offer his hand, his heart, his soul. But he couldn't.

There was just too much to grab hold of - and too much to let go of. Too much.

Vin glimpsed Travis' face as the man hovered behind Chris; saw the moment when he understood exactly how things were between him and Chris - saw the older man's expression change from bewilderment to understanding to pity in the blink of an eye.

The bond snapped, and Vin quickly turned away. It took only a few quick strides to get to the door, a few more to the elevator. Chris called after him - accused him of "running away again"- but at that moment, he didn't care. It was all lost, anyway. Or at least, Chris was, and nothing else mattered.

There were only two vehicles in the parking garage this late on a Saturday afternoon, and Vin paused as he approached Chris's truck. Last thing he wanted was an uncomfortable ride home with a fuming Larabee, but he'd left the mission earlier with only his phone and his badge, and it was a long, cold walk back. He figured he'd have to wait for Larabee to catch up to him before he could climb inside, but Chris had left the doors unlocked. That wasn't like his overly cautious boss, Vin noted with a raised brow as he pulled on the handle of the door.

He knew the sound, the distinctive click as the explosive was engaged. Recognized it, registered it, but was a fraction of a second too slow to react before the flash of light and loud pop splintered his brain. Long seconds later, searing pain gripped him and dropped him to his knees.

+++++++

Chris was furious as he trailed Vin Tanner. Not only had the man run off that morning without a single word to anyone, he'd apparently had a physical confrontation with Richmond that he'd conveniently forgotten to mention. Obviously it wasn't enough that Vin had slept with Charlotte that one, supposedly last time, he couldn't even let go of the woman when she was dead.

But worst of all, Vin had denied him in front of Travis; denied their right to even consider a future together. Apparently Vin's earlier assertion that he would do anything for him, including kill or die, didn't cover standing up to their supervisor or the rest of the damn world, if need be. So Chris was mad as hell, angry, furious . . . hurt.

He was twenty feet behind Vin, but even if he'd been right on top of him, he couldn't have stopped it. It was a small explosion, designed to maim, not kill, but still enough to blow the handle off the door and shatter the glass of the passenger side window.

Vin's eyes went wide and his face drained of color as he stumbled back a few feet, and Chris thought at first that he wasn't badly hurt. But then Tanner cried out hoarsely and fell to his knees, his bloody, blackened hand cradled to his chest.

"No, no," Chris breathed as he stood rooted, trapped in another nightmare. Only Travis' voice behind him, shouting at him to go to Vin while he called for help, finally spurred him to move.

He couldn't think what to do except to drop to the floor and fold his friend in his arms. The flickering light from an unreliable fluorescent bulb cast an unwieldy shadow, and he couldn't tell if he was seeing soot or blood or burnt skin on the appendage that Vin clutched tightly to his chest. The smell of smoke clogged his nostrils and stung his throat, and he coughed, more to clear his mind of painful, bitter memories than to catch his breath. It was only a hand, he reassured himself . . . not a head, not a leg, not an eye. Not a life. Glass crunched beneath the toes of his boots, sirens wailed in the distance, and in his arms, Vin moaned breathlessly.

He'd barely had the chance to murmur a few shallow reassurances when the ambulance arrived. Vin was snatched from his arms then and taken away without a final touch or word between them.

It wasn't until he was pacing the waiting room of the ER that it all started to make sense to him: why Vin had gone off on his own that morning; why he'd neglected to mention the fight with Richmond; why he'd denied his feelings to Travis. What the hell did he expect from a man who'd been virtually on his own his entire life? Old habits die hard, and with all that had happened, Vin had to be on overload. Tanner was on the run - literally and figuratively.

"Shit," Chris mumbled to himself as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. He should have known, should have understood. Should have played it all differently. And he would have, if he hadn't crossed over into this new place where Vin was more than his friend.

But he had crossed over - and there was no turning back. The problem now was how to work through this maze of conflict and hurt feelings to get what he wanted from Vin. No, not from Vin, he quickly corrected himself - with Vin. Hell, it was no wonder he'd had so few relationships in his life - he was just so damn bad at it.

"Chris? How is he?" It was Buck who interrupted his thoughts. His old friend was the first to arrive, and he looked uncharacteristically morose.

"Okay, I guess," Chris replied. "He's not gonna die, anyway."

"There's an awful lot of space between 'okay' and 'not gonna die', Stud."

"Yeah, well the only blank I can fill in is that he's not gonna lose his hand. Not gonna use it, either, for a good while, but whatever Richmond hoped to accomplish with this - it won't be permanent."

"Wasn't Richmond."

"What? How do you know that?"

Buck shrugged. "For one thing, the man ain't got the brains. For another, he ain't got the guts. But if that's not enough, he didn't have time to get from the morgue to the parking garage and rig that up. By all accounts, he stayed at the morgue almost an hour after Vin left."

"Why?" That made no sense - unless it was to give himself an alibi.

"Why? Well, Chris, she was his wife."

"What do you do in a morgue with your dead wife for an hour, Buck? Come on. The man's crazy and he hates Vin. He's behind this, one way or another."

"Then he's covering his bases pretty well." Buck sighed and added, "All of O'Shea's men are dead or doin' time. It's gotta be someone else who's out to harm Vin. Killing Charlotte was probably just the start of it."

"Doesn't that seem awful coincidental to you? Vin breaks up with her and she gets murdered that same night? Someone decides to get a little justice at the exact same time she's stirring up trouble with her ex?"

"So why kill her? If Richmond was still so all-fired hot for her, why did he kill her? Why not just go for Vin?"

Chris shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe she wasn't supposed to die. Maybe he just wanted her to be taught a lesson and it got out of hand."

"Hmm . . ." Buck pondered that as he pulled on his mustache. "It's possible, I guess. She might have asked for more than what she was supposed to get, knowing that little girl. Might have begged for it," he mumbled under his breath.

Chris didn't want to think about that; he'd heard enough about Charlotte's sexual prowess to last him a lifetime. Better to focus on the facts, which were that she was dead, and Vin was in danger.

In the hours that followed, Chris had no opportunity to speak with Vin privately. By the time the tests were run and Vin was settled for the night, Buck had dragged him back to his apartment for some sleep. The good news was that they were releasing Vin the next day with a boat load of antibiotics, pain killers, and follow-up appointments.

This was the second time Vin had walked away from nearly being blown to hell, and he couldn't help but wonder, would a third time prove to be the fatal charm?

+++++++

He was lucky - or so they kept telling him. The excruciating pain in his hand begged to differ, however. It wasn't like him to pop pain pills like M&Ms, but Vin was too damn miserable to care. He wanted to put himself into coma.

Two broken fingers, two more broken bones in his hand, second and third degree burns . . . he'd lost the tip of his little finger but who really cared about that? Some scarring was to be expected, of course, but no lasting damage. He'd be using his left hand for the foreseeable future, but hey, his handwriting was chicken scratch anyway, and now he had an excuse to get JD to type his reports for him.

Yep. He was lucky.

The night had consisted of an endless round of sticking, jabbing, poking, prodding and picture-taking. The drugs were good - though not quite good enough to mask the pain of his injury or to block out the image of Larabee's shattered face. Vin figured he could have put a bullet in Chris and it would have hurt the man less than flat out denying him in front of Travis. There was no other way, but he doubted that was much consolation to a guy like Chris. The man finally goes out on a limb - like all the way out - like crossing the freaking ocean out - and admits that he was not only caught with another man, but he liked it and wanted it to continue. And what does he get for his trouble?

Oh yeah, a bullet would have been better. Considerably better.

Still, Chris had agreed to take him back to the ranch until they could figure out who was after him and why. Of course, with Larabee's truck out of commission, he had to ride with Josiah. And their self-proclaimed preacher couldn't resist giving him advice on everything from opening up about his feelings to taking a piss using his left hand. All right, so maybe that was an exaggeration. And maybe Josiah really made some awfully good points. But at that moment, all Vin wanted was a hefty dose of pain killers chased by a cold beer.

Nathan beat them to the ranch, though, so the beer was out. So was Chris, apparently, which meant the "talk" between them could be put off a bit longer.

What was there to say anyway? They never really had a chance, and that loss of hope, coupled with the agony of his injuries, nearly caused him to black out standing in the doorway of the ranch.

"Get him to bed, Josiah," Nathan barked.

Vin didn't take it personally; or rather, he took it for what it was - Nathan's way of saying he cared.

He took his usual bed in the guest room, although it hadn't been 'usual' in several months. Not since Mary . . .

"And look at what you've done, Vin - destroyed everything for Billy and me." Mary's voice spoke to him from the corner of the room where she hid in the shadows.

Or did she?

No, no. He was dreaming, and he tried to rouse himself from that awful place where nightmares loomed. But the drugs settled in his system, and now he was walking away from Mary, leaving her shrill cries of "You're not good enough for him! You'll never be good enough!" behind him.

It was Charlotte that faced him now, somewhere on the road between the ranch and Denver. She beckoned him to follow her, and he couldn't resist her in his dreams any more than he could in his life. He'd only taken two steps, or so it seemed, when suddenly he was lying down and she was on top of him. Her bloody face and bruised throat revealed evidence of the terrible wrongs done to her, but still she leaned forward and captured his mouth as if nothing had happened. Her breast swayed across his chest as she rocked rhythmically over him, taking him inside her.

He didn't want this. "No, no," he mumbled, trying to push her off of him. But his hands were useless - both of them black and burnt. "No," he tried again, "I don't want you."

She laughed and blood stained her teeth. "Does it matter? Did it ever matter?" And she rocked him harder, his back biting into the cold, metal surface beneath him.

"You're fucking a dead woman, Vin." Chris's voice now. Cold and distant.

"Damn, Vin - even I've never done it in a morgue!" Buck laughed.

"No! No! Get off me! Help me, Chris," he pleaded. "I need you. Help me!"

"Sorry, Pard. I'm not sharing you with a corpse."

"Don't come much livelier, ain't that what you said, Vin?" Buck asked, still grinning. "I gotta tell you though, Boy, alive or dead, she's no match for bareback Larabee. Ain't that right, Chris? You ever tell Vin what me and you get up to when we're bored?"

"Not true," Vin muttered miserably as Charlotte's blood splattered his face.

"You think you're the only one I've shared a blanket with, Tanner?" Chris jeered.

Vin's voice caught in his throat, coming out as a desperate, hoarse whisper, "Please don't. I love you, Chris. Only you. Always you."

The sound of whimpering woke him, and he realized with a sudden, awful start, that the pathetic noise had originated from his own throat. He forgot for a moment, and lifted his bad hand to wipe away the moisture from his face. The slight movement triggered a fresh wave of pain, and he gasped.

There was a dip on the mattress as someone sat on the bed next to him, followed by a sudden flood of light, and he blinked against the brightness.

"I'm sorry," Chris said softly. "For the light, I mean. Do you need another pain pill?"

Vin nodded and gratefully took the medication from Chris' outstretched hand, but said nothing more. How much had he revealed as he slept fitfully? What had Chris heard?

No choice, really, but to look Chris in the eye and see what he knew, what he might have learned from the rumblings of his nightmare. There was so much there in those eyes - everything he needed and everything he'd ever wanted, and it just didn't matter anymore. He couldn't give up Chris for Charlotte, for Travis, for the team, for anyone or anything. It just wasn't possible.

With two fingers, he traced the long jaw that hovered near him and whispered, "You're all that matters. Only you."

It was easy then to wrap his good hand around Chris's neck and pull him close; to pour everything his heart held into a single, gentle kiss. Chris would forgive him - or he wouldn't - and he'd know, in that moment, how it was going to go. If they had a future, or if he'd blown it forever.

And he did know. Chris cupped the back of his head, deepened the kiss, and gave him his answer. Hours of hurt, despair, misunderstanding, and fear dissolved in the meeting of lips and tongues, minds and souls.

Chris pulled back then and he said, "I'm not all that matters, Vin."

Vin opened his mouth to argue, but Chris put a finger to his lips and stopped him. "Hear me out," he said in low voice. "You have every right to grieve for Charlotte. It's okay that you aren't ready to tell the world how we feel about each other. But it's not all right, not okay, not negotiable that you go off on your own right now. Someone wants to hurt you. And I can't let that happen. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Vin whispered. "I get it."

"Good," Chris smiled, before kissing him again, long, slow, and achingly tender. When he pulled back this time, it was with a groan. "There will come a time when you and I will do this all night long. But right now, our team is in the other room - and apparently there have been some new developments. You up for it?"

Vin agreed with a simple nod. He finally felt like he had handle on his feelings, and it had only taken three minutes alone with Chris. Could this really be a portent of what was to come? Would this feeling be his to have always, once he got past the guilt and the grief of Charlotte's violent death? The question brought his nightmare to the forefront of his mind once again, and almost without conscious thought, he heard himself ask, "You ever share a blanket with Buck?"

"A blanket? With Buck?" Chris peered at him uncertainly, then smiled. "Must have been some dream. Truth is, I might have shared a blanket with Buck in the past - I don't rightly recall. But I can tell you this, we never put it to as good of use as you and I did that night at the warehouse. And we never will."

"He really okay with us?"

The question appeared to surprise Chris, but he cocked his brow and replied, "Yeah, he's good. But even if he wasn't, it wouldn't change the way I feel about you. So are you ready to tell the others?"

No, he thought, visualizing the shocked expression on JD's young face. But what he said was, "Let's go."

They were half-way down the long hall to the living room, when Vin heard JD shout excitedly, "Oh man, you guys are not gonna believe this!"

From the doorway, he glimpsed JD perusing the news on his lap top as the young man continued to speak, "This article says Richmond is alleging that Vin killed his wife because 'she witnessed Agent Tanner engaged in sexual acts with his supervisor, Agent Chris Larabee'. I can't believe they even print crap like that! Chris and Vin should sue," he huffed indignantly.

Beside him, Chris squeezed his arm and whispered, "It'll be alright, Vin. You'll see."

"Uh-huh," Vin gulped. And wasn't it stupid, he thought, that after having his ex-girlfriend murdered, after being questioned by the police and Travis, after being nearly strangled by a raging lunatic in a morgue, and after having his hand damn-near blown off - it was facing the men in the next room that had him shaking in his boots?

+++++++

In spite of his reassurance to Vin, Chris's heart was thumping in his chest. He thought he'd rather face Dicky O'Shea and his gang again than look Ezra, Nathan, and JD in the eyes and tell them that he'd fallen in love with Vin.

Love.

As much as it hurt to hear Vin's pain-filled breathless pleas while he slept, his heart had leapt when he heard the soft murmur, "I love you, Chris. Only you. Always you." All the hurt and anger and disappointment simply flowed away the moment he was certain that Vin felt just as he did.

He was about to respond to JD's news, but to his surprise, Vin spoke first. "It's true. She did see us, uh, doin' stuff," he rasped.

All of the men were seated on the couch or in the surrounding chairs, and Chris quickly noted that Josiah immediately focused on Nathan, Buck on JD, while Vin was staring white-faced at Ezra. But before he could decide who to address first, or how to further clarify Vin's admission, Ezra stood and said, "Well, well - it looks like there is something to be salvaged from this terrible day after all."

With a loud groan, JD turned away from his computer and said, "Hey, Buck - can I borrow a hundred bucks?"

As Buck reached in his pocket and pulled out two fifties, Josiah frowned and asked, "Isn't that the hundred I gave you yesterday?"

With a broad grin, Buck shrugged and replied, "Easy come, easy go."

In the meantime, Chris heard Nathan mutter, "Damn. Rain was right. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Here, Ezra," JD said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe his bad luck.

Ezra grinned broadly and reached for the offered bills, but Chris snatched them out of the air and promptly handed them back to their original owner. As Josiah pocketed the money, Chris snapped, "I can't believe you idiots were betting on our love lives."

"Not exactly your love life, Stud," Buck quipped with a waggle of his brows.

A shell-shocked Vin, apparently just catching on, blinked and stammered, "You guys were - ? You thought - ? You knew about -?"

"We all spend a great deal of time together. It has been quite apparent to most of us," Ezra said as JD rolled his eyes. "I must confess, however," Standish continued, "that I presumed you'd be a bit more discreet - especially in the presence of someone as unsteady as your former paramour."

Chris caught the flush of anger and embarrassment on Vin's face and quickly stepped in. "It wasn't intentional, obviously. Now tell me what you've learned."

Josiah stepped up to the plate. "They've pretty much ruled Vin out as a suspect in light of the attack on him. In addition, the preliminary results are in on the DNA," Josiah's tone softened as he turned an apologetic look towards Vin. "Charlotte was definitely with someone else that night."

All eyes turned to Vin as the implications of the findings settled in their minds. It was a horrible way to be vindicated; the same evidence that cleared Vin, proved that his former girlfriend had indeed been raped.

"Any leads?" Chris asked, quickly moving the discussion along.

"Just the obvious one," JD muttered. "Seriously, we should take Richmond down just for outing Vin and Chris to the entire city like he did. What are we gonna do about that?"

Outing? The word made Chris cringe - he wasn't gay after, all. There was only one man he yearned for and that was just because Vin was -well, Vin. But that initial, gut reaction quickly brought a blush of shame to his cheeks. So what if people thought he was gay? Or bi-sexual? Why the hell did it matter?

While he was waging an internal protest in favor of gay rights, Vin grew paler where he stood. As usual, Nathan was the first to notice, jumping to his feet and gripping Vin's arm. "Take my seat, Vin," he said.

Still looking more than a little lost and confused, Vin mumbled, "It's just my hand, Nate. No big deal." But his relief was visible when he took the vacant seat.

"I think it would be best to simply ignore it for the time-being," Josiah offered. "We have enough to worry about right now -Vin's safety first and foremost."

Buck scoffed. "Ignore it? You're dreamin', Preacher. This will light up the gossip tree like Christmas at Rockefeller Center."

"Then we lie," Ezra said simply.

Once again, Chris was about to step in but Vin beat him to it. "Ain't no reason t' lie," he said softly. "Me and Chris never got where we were aimin' that night. Never had no sexual acts. Y'all can joke about that, too, if y' want to - take bets on when we're finally gonna make it t' the finish line." He paused and looked at Chris when he added, "Ain't all that funny, though. We hurt people. Charlotte, Mary, Billy - and now maybe all of you."

Ezra sat down across from Vin and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and he said very deliberately, "What was not funny, Vin, was watching two men we admire and care deeply about struggle so heartily to love the wrong person. Even those of us who - for lack of a better phrase - bet against you - wanted nothing more than your happiness. And we are prepared to do whatever it takes to see that you and Chris get it."

There were mumbles of agreement, but Vin appeared to be out of words. Chris met and held his gaze as he spoke for both of them. "Vin and I appreciate your support more than we can say." He cleared his throat then and looked at his men, "But right now, the important thing is to figure out who is behind this. My gut is leaning toward Richmond. The timing is just too coincidental."

"Then someone's helping him," Buck chimed in.

"I agree," said Chris. "So what mutual enemy could he join forces with to take revenge on Vin? On any of us?"

"You believe we left a stone unturned in the O'Shea situation," Ezra responded, more statement than question.

Chris nodded. "I was never convinced O'Shea's man acted alone in that explosion that nearly killed Vin a few months ago."

"If that was so, then why didn't O'Shea's snitch give up all the men involved?" Josiah asked. "Why just slip us one name? And why stir things up again now? Why Charlotte? And Vin?"

"I don't know," Chris replied with a shake of his head, "but I think another visit to our snitch in the federal penitentiary is in order, Josiah. See what you can find out in the morning."

"Will do," Josiah agreed with a nod.

More discussion followed, during which a lot of ideas were debated, but nothing concrete became evident. Someone had thought to bring frozen pizzas, which were heated up and quickly devoured, and Nathan brought extra beer, which he promptly prohibited Vin from drinking. It might have been any meeting over any case, and Chris was grateful. His and Vin's relationship never came up again, nor was an unkind word spoken about Charlotte.

Her husband was another story, however. And the longer Chris puzzled it out, the more convinced he was that Vin was right initially -Richmond was behind his wife's murder. But as the hours dragged on and midnight approached, only one thing remained certain: whoever was after Vin, would strike again.

Chris kept a covert eye on Vin all evening. He knew better than to insist Tanner go back to bed, even though the effort of staying engaged was clearly taking it's toll on his friend. Might only be his hand, but the injuries were painful - and Nathan had quietly reminded him that if not properly cared for, Vin could lose that hand yet. Most worrisome, was that the injury left Vin virtually defenseless. Tanner could shoot with his left if he had to, but it wasn't natural for him, and lowered his accuracy considerably.

But Vin wouldn't have to shoot - or defend himself in any other way - Chris reminded himself, because he wasn't leaving the man alone until this was resolved.

When Vin finally laid his head back against the couch and bit his lip, Chris called it a night. "Time to wrap this up, Boys," he said. "You're all welcome to crash here. Vin will be staying in my room with me, so the spare bedroom and the den are both available."

No one commented, although JD blushed. Chris purposely avoided looking at Vin as a wave of disappointment swept over him. This was not at all how he had imagined Vin's first night in his bed. But still, Vin was here, the boys knew and understood, and the promise of a future together burned bright before them.

He'd expected it to be awkward when he first climbed into bed next to Vin, but it actually seemed more comfortable, more right than when he'd shared this same space with Mary. Vin's right hand was propped up on a pillow, so he crawled in on the left, leaving a foot or so between them.

It was Vin who spoke first. "Ain't quite how I imagined our first night together," he said in a low voice.

Chris moved closer and raised himself up on one elbow so he could see Vin's profile in the moonlight. "We will get to that finish line, Vin. Soon." God, he hoped so anyway; he was pretty sure he couldn't be this close to Vin for long without giving into the dreams and fantasies that had plagued him since that infamous night at the warehouse.

"Ain't even in the race," Vin snorted.

"Soon," Chris promised again, his lips barely brushing Vin's.

"Soon," Vin agreed on a sigh. Moments later, he was asleep.

Chris studied the outline of the strong nose and jaw for long minutes before finally rolling onto his back. But sleep was elusive. Things were moving fast, and it was unlikely another day would pass without another attempt to make Vin suffer. But how? When? And most importantly, by whose hand?

+++++++

The fiery pain in Vin's hand spurred him awake, but for the first time in four long days and nights, he'd actually slept a solid eight hours. Undoubtedly, Chris's presence had something to do with that - provided he really was where he thought he was and not just having a good dream, for a change. But no, as he peeled open his sleepy lids, he quickly deduced that he truly had spent the night in Chris Larabee's room, in Chris Larabee's bed.

He waited for the familiar twinge of awkwardness and guilt to rear its ugly head, but he felt nothing but a calm contentedness he hadn't known in months. Or maybe years. Or maybe ever.

The feeling only deepened when he opened his eyes further and saw Chris sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, putting on his socks and shoes. Chris got up then and walked to his dresser to slide on his wristwatch before casually slipping his wallet into his back pocket and running a comb through his hair. Everyday actions . . . mundane, simple, totally ordinary.

But Vin thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful and erotic in his life. All of the moments he'd shared with Chris - the danger and excitement of the job, the fun and frolic with the boys, the quiet moments of nearly silent communication - all counted more than he could ever put a price on. But this was something different; this was intimate, personal - a missing piece in the rapidly developing puzzle that was their relationship. His heart sped up - he could hardly wait for the day when he could watch Chris shave and brush his teeth.

Chris must have sensed his attention, because he abruptly turned towards him and teased, "About time you woke up."

Vin sat up with a groan. "Don't you have a job t' go to, Larabee?"

"Not today," Chris replied as he moved towards the bed. "I'm taking you to your doctor's appointment."

Now Vin groaned in earnest. "I just got out of the hospital yesterday, for crying out loud. What the hell do they need t' see me for already?"

"Burns are nothing to mess with. You had a lot of debris in your wounds, and I don't have to tell you what could happen if infection sets in."

"Thank you, Doctor Nathan," Vin muttered as he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

Chris reached down and ruffled his hair. "I'll get you some coffee. We need to leave in an hour, so you might want to think about getting dressed."

Vin grunted his reply as the very appealing image of a naked Chris helping him wash his hair quickly came to mind. He was injured, after all, and he might need a hand. But before the idea even took root, his cell vibrated on the bedside stand. He reached for it and answered without looking at the caller. "Yeah?"

"You seen the news, Tanner? You're through in this town."

Richmond. What a way to start the day. But maybe he could get a jump on what the nutcase had in mind for his next move. "There are other towns," he stated as casually as he could manage.

"You gonna take your boyfriend with you? Cause he's a dead man if you don't. Or maybe even if you do."

A chill ran down Vin's spine. "You leave Chris out of this."

"You made him part of this when you left her for him - when you stuck a knife in her heart." Richmond choked back what sounded like a sob and added, "She chose you. She chose you over me and look what she got! She's dead because of you."

"I didn't kill her," Vin said quietly. From the corner of his eye, he noted that Chris had reentered the bedroom.

"You put her out on the street! You ripped the heart of out of her!" Richmond yelled.

Chris grabbed the phone from Vin's hands and yelled, "Richmond!" But the call ended before he could say more. After laying the phone back on the stand, he sat down on the edge of the bed and asked softly, "You need help showering?"

Vin shook his head. Only moments ago, he'd contemplated how wonderful it would feel to have Chris's hands on him. Now, it felt all wrong. Charlotte wasn't even in the grave. And Richmond was right - he had broken her heart, and one way or another, she was dead because of him.

"This isn't your fault, Vin," Chris said, drawing out the words as if time alone might make them true.

"You don't know that. None of us know that. If this is about me, if she was killed just because she knew me, or because I put her out . . ."

"It's not just about you. There's more to it. Listen, Ezra and Buck are here, they're gonna watch the house while we're gone - make sure no one gets any ideas about rigging up a surprise on our door. And Ezra says Josiah got a lead this morning. It seems the guy Buck and JD shot had a half-brother - with a record of arson and assault. And get this - he goes by the name 'Powder Man' because he likes to blow things up. Considering how his brother and most of his friends ended up, he could well have a bone t' pick with Charlotte, with you, hell, with all of us."

Vin tried to feign some interest in that news, but it didn't take the sting out of Richmond's words. He got up and headed for the shower without responding to Chris.

An hour later, they were in the car that Josiah had lent them while Chris's truck was being repaired. Vin propped his hand up on the arm rest of the passenger door, but it didn't ease the throbbing. Either the pain pills weren't working, or he'd forgotten to take them after Richmond called. He tried to focus his mind on something else, but Richmond's broken voice wouldn't stay silent for long. The man didn't kill his wife; Vin was beginning to believe that he had nothing to do with any of this -that Will Richmond was as much a victim as Charlotte was, and as he himself was. Maybe, when it came right down to it, Richmond was the most innocent victim of them all.

Chris must have sensed his disturbing thoughts, because he reached across the seat to squeeze his good hand. Larabee looked like he was about to say something then, but the tune of his cell phone stopped him.

"What have you got, Josiah?" Chris asked, not bothering to say 'hello'. There was a long pause during which the blond nodded and mumbled a few quick words. After the call ended, he turned towards Vin and stated, "Powder Man recently rented a studio apartment in town. Wanna guess where?"

Vin sat up straighter. "Perguatorio?"

"Yeah. Two blocks from you."

Shaking his head, Vin muttered, "How did we miss him the first time around?"

"He was in jail three states away at the time the final O'Shea bust was in play. Didn't get out until two days before the drug store explosion. Josiah thinks Powder Man was trying to teach his brother the family trade - and you were the guinea pig."

"I don't understand - why would he go after me? And why kill Charlotte?"

"Think about it, Charlotte was the one who put the O'Shea gang out of commission. And you were her self-appointed guardian. Unless Richmond -"

"No," Vin argued, "as much as I hate to admit it, I don't think he had anything to do with any of this. So are they bringing this Powder-guy in?"
"Soon as they find him." Chris turned his head towards him and added, "It's a solid lead, Vin. We're almost -"

The words died in his throat as a car careened around the bend in the mountain road and headed straight for them. Chris pulled on the wheel, swerving hard to the right to avoid the impact.

It was the stuff of nightmares - again. Metal twisting, glass shattering, heat and smoke - and Vin was strangely, acutely aware of every horrible moment. He knew the second the tires left the road, and he felt every jarring impact of metal against rock and shrub as the car slid down the ravine.

It wasn't his life that flashed before his eyes during the endless ride, rather those few, precious moments with Chris. The promise of a future together dangled tantalizing out of reach. So much time they'd wasted. In the space of a single heartbeat, it consumed him: the missed signals, the lies, the denials, the longing, the relentless, aching need. He cried out for Chris as the car slammed into a tree, spun in a half circle, and finally came to rest.

Disorientation lasted only moments as he quickly disentangled himself from the air bag that had deployed. Pain slowly seeped into his consciousness and he took stock of the sources: the agony in his previously injured hand was nearly unbearable, and there was a terrible vice around his right lower leg. His head hurt, too, in a distant, vague sort of way, but he could move and he could think. And he'd yet to see or hear any evidence that Chris could do either.

"Chris!" he called desperately. "Chris, answer me!"

It seemed to take everything he had to turn his head to the left enough to make out Chris slumped against the window of the driver's side door. Blood flowed in steady stream from a gash on his friend's forehead, but he was beginning to come to, judging by the low moan that left the other man's throat.

Vin tried again, his voice weak with relief, "Chris? Come on, Pard. Let's get out of here."

It sounded like the thing to do anyway, though he couldn't remember exactly why it was so urgent or how the hell they'd ended up at the bottom of a ravine to begin with. As the pain in his leg blossomed into something deep and vital, he lowered his gaze to seek out the cause. The car had wrapped around the tree on the passenger side, and his leg was firmly caught in the twisted metal. He took a breath and told himself to stay calm. All he needed to do was find the phone and call for help.

But a sound in the distance quickly distracted him. An explosion; small but loud enough to carry a good distance. Vin twisted around in his seat and craned his neck towards the back window. He could see smoke in the distance, maybe a hundred yards out, maybe less. There was another loud crack then, followed by more smoke, and that was when he knew who had forced them off the road and why.

"Chris! We have to get out of here now! Wake up!"

Was that singing he heard? It sounded like an incredibly irritating version of Camptown Races . . . and it was getting closer.

Vin yanked at his leg, crying out in pain when the sharp metal sliced through jeans and skin. "Chris, please," he moaned. "Help me out here!"

Once again, Chris groaned, but this time, his eyes fluttered open and he managed to garble, "Vin?"

"Where's your gun, Chris? Aw hell, nevermind, I got it." He'd reached around Chris and found the weapon, though his hand was shaking so badly, he wasn't sure it would do much good. He twisted around again, trying to get a clear view of the singing nutcase who persisted in tossing off small explosives as he traveled closer to the wrecked vehicle. All it would take was one well-aimed hit near the gas tank, and it would all be over.

"Chris!" he tried again, not bothering to hide the panic in his voice, "Wake up!"

"What -? What's goin' on, Vin? God, my head . . . can't see straight," Chris mumbled.

"Got us a situation here, Pard, and you're gonna need t' get out of the car and stay low, all right? Think you can do that?" Vin tossed over his shoulder before taking a wildly misplaced shot out the window. He couldn't see who he was aiming at, let alone have a shot at hitting him, but he wanted their attacker to know he wasn't taking them down without a fight.

"Who you shootin' at?"

"My guess is Powder Man. And if that ain't the stupidest name," Vin muttered. He took another shot, then turned back to Chris and pleaded, "Get out, Chris. Get as far away from the car as you can. Here, take the gun. Can't hit what I'm aimin' at anyway."

"What?" Chris shook his head and frowned. "He's out there? Hell, Vin, I'm seein' three of you right now - I can't hit him either. Better off t' stay here til he gets closer and then -"

"Chris, get out! I ain't got time t' argue! He's gonna blow the car!"

Chris shook his head again and rubbed his hand across his eyes. Blood still dripped in a steady stream across his forehead and down his face, and he pulled his hand away with a frown. "What the hell?"

Another explosion - this one close enough to rattle the windows - had Chris suddenly sitting upright. "The devil's gonna blow us up!"

"Yeah, I think that's the plan," Vin agreed with some relief. Chris finally seemed to be aware enough to take action. At least maybe he could save himself . . .

"Come on," Chris said, latching onto Vin's arm, "we'll go out my door and stay close to the ground. Maybe between the two of us, we can aim close enough to keep him away til we can get some help."

Vin met his eyes and said the words he'd been dreading, knowing how Chris would react. "I'm stuck, Chris. You're gonna have t' go without me."

"What? Like hell I will! Come on!"

Vin cried out again as his leg twisted cruelly when Chris tugged on his arm. "I can't," he said through gritted teeth, "my leg is caught."

"I'm not going without you," Chris grunted as he leaned across the seat. Blood from his head wound dripped on the seat and splattered Vin's jeans, but Larabee ignored it as he reached below the mangled dashboard in an effort to free Vin's trapped leg. "Damn it," he cursed, "can't see right. Can't get a hold of it."

"Just go, Chris," Vin begged. "Please. He's closer now. Any second -"

Chris stopped what he was doing long enough to meet his gaze. "Don't you get it? I don't wanna live without you. I'm not gonna watch you blow up in this car like I did - like I did - them. I just can't."

It hit Vin then, the magnitude of what had happened between them. Chris wasn't just willing to die for him, he was willing to die with him. He'd always known that Chris would take a bullet for him, but this was different; Chris was making a conscious choice to die beside him, simply because living without him was too unbearable to contemplate. He'd have given anything for a moment longer to contemplate the wonder of this revelation, but the singing had grown louder and it was interspersed with maniacal laughter. They were running out of time.

Powder Man called out, "You boys all right in there? Need a little help?"

"Can you see him, Vin? Take a shot - maybe you can hold him off."

He heard the maniac laugh again when the bullet went high. "Not such a sharpshooter now, huh, Tanner? Heard you had a little accident with your hand. Heard some other stuff about you, too . . . from your former lady friend."

Vin closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat. After all they'd done to keep Charlotte safe from Dicky O'Shea and his men, they'd let one loose canon get by them - and he'd killed her.

"She died with a smile, though, if it makes you feel any better," Powder Man continued. "I've been watching your place for weeks now, and when I saw her come out your door that night, I knew the time had come. Offered her a drink and a little comfort - and it was easy after that. Damn shame to have to kill a woman that good with her mouth, but what's a man to do? Then again, you have a different idea about what men do, don't you, Tanner? You and your new boyfriend."

"He's got a bomb in his hands, Chris, I can see him! We're out of time - just go!"

"No, damn it!"

Desperation to save Chris gave Vin new determination, and he pulled viciously on his leg just as Chris jerked with all his might. They ended up tangled together on the front seat, both groaning in misery, but there was no time to sort anything out. Vin heard the click of the explosive just as Chris pulled him out the driver's side door. Together they stumbled away from the vehicle just as the loud blast sounded behind them. The force sent both men tumbling forward. Vin felt the heat at his back, and then he felt nothing at all.

++++++

There was the smell of smoke and the heat of fire as sirens wailed in the distance. How many times, he thought, would he suffer through this same old nightmare?

"Chris? You with me now? Come on, wake up! It's all right. Help's on the way."

His vision was hazy, but he was still certain it was Buck's worried frown that wavered in triplicate before him. "Buck?" he rasped. "What - what happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. But it looks like you and Vin ran into a spot of trouble."

Vin . . . Vin was trapped in the car! He struggled beneath Buck's grip as he fought to get to up. It wouldn't happen again, this time he'd get to the one he loved or die trying.

"Whoa! Hold on and lay still - Vin's right here beside you. He ain't lookin' too good, but Ezra says he's breathin' just fine. And the ambulance just pulled up, so he'll be in good hands in just a minute, all right? You got that?"

Chris turned his head, saw Vin lying near him, and let himself fall back to the ground. "Yeah," he breathed. He got it all right, he finally, fully understood the enormity of what this thing was between him and Vin. Didn't take him a second's thought to know that he'd sooner blow up in that car than leave Vin there. He never thought he'd feel that way about anyone again, had hoped and almost prayed he wouldn't. Maybe that was why he'd chosen Mary initially - because she was safer, his heart was safer from this terrible, wonderful, gut-wrenching kind of love that he felt for Vin.

He tried to reach for Vin's hand to assure himself that Buck was telling the truth, but suddenly there were people everywhere. And it was easier then to let the darkness that had been looming at the edge of his vision suck him in and swallow him whole.

It might have been hours or even days later when he woke again. All he knew was that he was in a hospital bed and it was growing dark outside. And this time it was Josiah standing over him. "You awake, Chris?"

He mulled the question over, not really certain he knew the answer. There seemed to be an endless blur of images parading across his brain: Mary's angry frown, Vin shivering under a blanket, Charlotte laughing bitterly as her long finger trailed down his chest, a blackened hand, the sharp curve of a mountain road, and a bloody leg in twisted metal . . .

Something awful and urgent must have shown on his face, because Josiah bent closer and said in a painfully loud but even voice, "He's okay, Chris, I promise."

And now different memories raced through his mind: Vin lying on a cold floor, arching up beneath his hand; Vin kissing him in the pale light of a lantern in his barn; Vin still and silent under Travis' cool gaze; and finally, Vin pleading with him to save himself, just go . . .

Words finally connected from brain to voice, and he asked, "His leg?"

Josiah sighed. "Bit of a mess, but nothing beyond repair. It's so much better than it could have been. It was too close this time."

Chris rubbed the grit from his eyes as the questions now began to pour forth. "What happened to Powder Man? How did Buck know to come after us? Where's Vin now?"

Shaking his head, Josiah bit back a smile and replied, "Guess we know that hard head of yours is working okay. We'll take it slow, alright? Powder Man blew himself up with the car - apparently the damn fool got too close. Buck got a call from the doctor, changing Vin's appointment. When he couldn't get either you or Vin to answer your cells, he and Ezra came looking. Scared 'em half to death when they saw the smoke rising up from the ravine. Vin's on the orthopedic floor, where he'll be for another few days, at least. Doc said you might get out tomorrow, providing you agree to do what you're told."

"So it's over?" An odd mixture of hope and dread clogged his throat so that he could hardly raise his voice.

But Josiah must have heard because he lowered his eyes just enough to let on that things were not quite settled as yet. "Mostly," he replied reluctantly. "Richmond's still out there raising hell. I'm afraid you and Vin are gonna have to address his accusations eventually."

"Do you have any idea how close I came to losing Vin? It was a matter of seconds, Josiah - seconds. Do you think I care about Richmond or what he has to say? What anyone has to say?"

"Not today, I don't. But tomorrow you might feel different."

He wouldn't, but he didn't bother to argue. There was a brass band in his head with a whopping percussion section, and all he wanted to do was sleep for another week.

What he got was a couple of hours. This time it was Orin Travis who sat at his side, clearing his throat when he apparently saw Chris start to stir.

"Just saw Vin," the older man said by way of a greeting. "He looks like hell, but he claims to feel alright."

"You expected something different?"

Travis shook his head. "Not really. How about you? How do you feel? You up for a chat?"

Not really, Chris thought, but he wasn't a fool. This man held his and Vin's futures in his hands. But he wasn't in the mood for small talk, so he cut to the chase, "I'm not letting Vin go. I'd sooner leave the ATF."

"I figured as much," Travis replied with a long sigh. "But I was hoping you'd agree to a long-held military standard."

Chris raised his brow as he considered the other man's implication. "Don't ask, don't tell?"

Travis shrugged. "It works for the armed forces - why not for the ATF?"

"I don't know," Chris hedged. "There's been a lot of talk already. And if we're asked . . ."

"You won't be asked by anyone that counts, I'll see to it. My superiors believe exactly what I want them to. And those beneath us, well, they really don't matter, do they?"

"As grateful as I am, Orin, I have to say I'm not sure why you're willing to go along with this."

"Two reasons: the first is that I know you. You're a man of integrity. And I know that if your personal feelings ever cloud or color your judgment, you'll do the right thing long before I have to step in."

"And second?"

With a small smile, the older man replied, "I know love when I see it. As much as I hate to admit it, you've never looked at my daughter-in-law the way you looked at Vin in my office. You just don't turn your back on something like that."

"So . . . You're really okay with this?"

Now Travis grinned broadly. "No. Hell, no. Unfortunately I'm not quite that enlightened yet. But I am accepting of it. I'm afraid that's the best your gonna get."

It would have to do. As would the deal that Travis was laying on the table. He and Vin had tried for months to love the wrong person, had each slept in a bed of lies. And now that they were finally smart enough and strong enough to admit the truth, they were being asked to lie again. It was unfair, but he understood the necessity of it. It wasn't a matter of discrimination, even a husband and wife could not be on the same team. Still, the notion of pretending, of denying Vin, sat like a rock in his gut.

"I'll discuss it with Vin," Chris told his boss. But he already knew what Tanner would say; Vin would sooner cut off his right arm than do anything to jeopardize the team.

It was well and truly nightfall now, so he bid Travis good night and closed his eyes. His head was so crowded with thoughts and emotions, that he was sure he wouldn't sleep. But the next thing he knew, it was morning, and Buck was standing close by with an armload of clothes in his hands. "You ready to spring this joint?" he asked.

"Ready t' see Vin," Chris grunted.

"You're so damn predictable, Larabee," Buck laughed.

"Really? That what you call this thing between me and Vin? Predictable?"

Buck cocked his head. "Pretty much, yeah."

Chris couldn't help grinning at the response, though the smile turned around when his aching body quickly reminded him that he'd suffered through a car crash as he gingerly pulled on his shirt and pants.

Once the discharge paperwork was completed, Buck loaded him in the wheel chair and took him to Vin's room. Chris felt like a schoolgirl, the way his heart thumped in his chest in anticipation of seeing Vin. And Vin might have felt the same, if the glow in his eyes when he saw Buck and Chris come through the door was any indication. Tanner's face was bruised, and the tight lines around his eyes revealed that he hurt more than he'd probably admit, but the smile was genuine. And so was the catch in his voice when he said, "Good t' see you, Cowboy."

Chris couldn't speak for the lump in his throat. Might have had tears in his eyes, too, so he didn't look up at Buck, even when the man put a hand on his shoulder and said, "I'll be back for you in an hour, Larabee. You still got some restin' up to do."

They were alone then, and Chris reached for him. Somehow amid the tangle of bedrails and bandages and IV lines, they managed to meet in the middle.

"Vin, Vin," Chris whispered as he pulled the other man close, "I couldn't leave you, I just couldn't let you go."

"Don't want you t' let me go. Don't ever let me go," Vin choked.

A promise asked for in the soft plea, and Chris breathed his reply without hesitation, "Never." And to make his committment perfectly clear, he added with emphasis,"I will never let you go."

How far they had come in just a few short days, though there was nothing easy in the distance they'd covered. It had been a treacherous journey through a tangle of broken relationships, harsh words, missed cues and misunderstanding. And that didn't even count the physical toll caused by detonated explosives, a ride down a ravine, and the attacks of not one, but two madmen with vengeneance on their minds.

But as he took Vin's battered face in his hands, as he noted how relief and joy warred against sadness and guilt in those incredibly expressive blue eyes, he knew they still had a ways to go. With a soft kiss to the beloved forhead, he vowed that they would get there; they'd see that finish line together, and it would be well worth the race.

++++++

Vin had awakened in the hospital with a variety of new aches and pains and, much to his dismay, the fire in his hand wasn't the worst of them. It would surely have been less work and much less painful if they'd just cut his damn leg off, but hobbling through life as a cripple wasn't really an option, not with the promise of a future with Chris looming before him.

And it was a promise - no doubt about that any longer. If his feelings weren't obvious enough when he'd refused to leave him behind in that car, Chris had made himself perfectly clear when he'd visited Vin that next day. Larabee's face was bruised and he bore a long line of stithes near his hairline, but he was whole and breathing and Vin had nearly wept in relief. And then Chris pulled him in his arms and vowed never to let him go, and nothing else mattered. Let the shit fly with Richmond and the stories that undoubtedly were circulating about them. He didn't care anymore. He knew now what was real - what had always been the truth about them, though he and Chris had wasted a lot of time and hurt innocent people figuring it out.

Chris had to let him go for a short time, though, when Vin was initially discharged from the hospital. The leg wound required twice daily dressing changes, and Nathan was the only one with the knowledge, skill, and quite frankly, the stomach, to handle the process.

Staying with the Jacksons for a few weeks wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him. Rain was real sweet, and the couple mostly let him be. That was especially true when Chris came by. Vin couldn't help being embarrassed by Rain's knowing smile when she'd close the bedroom door after showing Chris in. There was no way in hell they were going to do much more than share lips - with an occasional, literal slip of the tongue - in Nathan's spare bedroom. Much to Rain's disappointment, he was sure.

Vin grinned as he thought back on that first day after he'd been sprung from Nathan's care. Chris had come to the door of the Jackson home practically bobbing on his heels, like an anxious kid about to get the gift of a lifetime. They'd driven to the ranch in near silence, though Chris didn't let go of his hand most of the way there. After they'd arrived, Chris had fussed at him when he insisted on making a long, slow hobble out to see the horses - but then Larabee's face fell when he came back inside and announced he was going to bed.

What he didn't say was that he had decided they'd waited long enough; fourteen days had come and gone, and he couldn't wait another day - hell, another hour - to see what the future held in store for them.

He figured Larabee wouldn't be able to stand it too long before he'd come to "check" on him, and he was right. It was pretty obvious, though, when Chris came in the room five minutes later that he hadn't planned on finding his house-guest naked underneath a thin sheet.

"I'm tired of warmin' up, Chris," Vin had rasped. "I'm ready for the race. Been wantin' t' see that finish line for some time now."

That was all the convincing Chris apparently needed, considering he'd managed to strip and join him in under a minute. It was bothersome, working around his injuries, but even now - months later - Vin could remember the sweet ecstacy of finally feeling Chris against him, skin to skin. Urgency and passion were tempered with tenderness and the unspoken desire to savor every moment, every touch - as if it might all be taken from them in the blink of an eye, the flash of light and heat. Later, the hard and fast lure of pure lust would duel with the aching gentleness of pure love. But that first time - that first time when they'd done little more than touch and kiss and rock together - that was magical.

With a smirk and a slow shake of his head, Vin had to acknowledge that Chris Larabee had turned him into a love-sick mush.

"What's got you grinning like a fool, Pard?" Chris asked him now, peaking an eye out from behind his newspaper.

"Just thinkin'," Vin replied.

"Care to share?"

"About our first time. Well, I mean, our real first time," he confessed.

Chris laid the paper on his lap and smiled. "Never figured you for the sentimental type, Vin."

Blushing, Vin replied, "Not. It's just - aw hell, never mind."

"Know what I'm thinking about?" Chris asked with a gleam in his eye. Before Vin could answer, he said, "Our next time."

"Thought all you wanted to do today was to read the paper - the old fashioned way," Vin teased. JD couldn't believe Chris still subscribed to a real newspaper when all the news he could ever want was on the internet.

"Yeah, the old-fashioned way is exactly what I had in mind. I'm thinking moonlight and hot tub."

"You call hot tub old-fashioned?"

"Believe me, Tanner, the things I plan to do with you in it have been around for a long, long time."

"Well hell, maybe you should show me now. Moonlight is a good ten hours away."

Whatever reply Chris was going to make was put on hold when he got up to answer the ringing phone.

"Yeah? . . . Uh-huh . . . Damn."

Vin knew by the last word that whatever was going on, this wasn't a good news call. His heart sank a little lower when Chris turned and looked directly at him as he replied to whoever was on the phone, "I'll tell him. Thank you for letting us know."

Holding his breath, Vin waited for Chris to cross the room and join him on the couch.

Almost absently, Chris entwined one hand with Vin's. "That was Travis," he said. "He called to let us know that Will Richmond committed suicide late last night."

Paranoia ran deep where the Richmond's were concerned, and Vin spouted the first thing that came to his mind. "No way in hell. Someone killed him!"

"There was a note. He hung himself. No foul play is suspected."

"You're wrong," Vin argued. Had to be wrong. Because it was so much easier to accept that Richmond had been murdered than that he'd taken his own life.

Chris took his face in his hands. "Look at me, Vin. And listen to me. This isn't your fault. She left him because he was abusive towards her. And she died by a crazy man's hand, not yours. That couple had problems long before you came along. This is not your fault."

"Of course it's not!" Vin shouted, getting to his feet. It just damn well felt like it was. Two people dead now; both tied to him. And one because he was so miserable that he chose to end his life. Vin knew he'd contributed to that misery, no matter how Chris might try to paint it.

He hadn't made it to Charlotte's memorial service, as he was lying in a hospital bed at the time. He made up his mind right then, though, that he'd go to Richmond's. Give the man that last measure of respect, even though Richmond had continued to try to cause problems for them for weeks after Charlotte's death. "I'm goin' to his funeral. If you really believe he killed himself, you shouldn't have a problem with that."

"I don't have a problem with that. But do you think that's what he would want?"

No. Of course he wouldn't. Richmond had hated him with a burning passion. Vin dropped his head. "He was right t' hate me. I should never have messed with his wife. It was wrong."

Chris sighed as he got to his feet. "It wasn't that simple. She played on your sympathy. She used you to get back at her husband, and when that didn't work, she used you to forget. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. It's in the past. And we have every right to what we have together. We've both suffered enough in this life - we deserve our chance to be happy."

"Doesn't feel like it," Vin said in a low voice.

Cupping his jaw, Chris pulled him close and said softly, "I could have been him, Vin. Before I met you, I was heading down that same road. I'm sorry for what happened to the Richmonds, but I'm not sorry that I got you."

Vin couldn't say that he was sorry about that, either. Sorry about the path he took to get where he was, maybe; sorry about Charlotte's fate, definitely. But he'd never regret the moment he met Chris or any moment he'd spent in the man's presence since. As he wrapped his arms around Chris, he murmured, "Think you could show me how sorry you're not? The old-fashioned way?"

"Oh yeah, I think I could definitely do that."

It occurred to Vin that he might be doing the very thing that Chris had once accused Charlotte of - that he might be using sex to ease his guilt and pain. But as the warm water in the hot tub bubbled up around him, as Chris pulled him onto his lap and licked that sweet spot behind his ear, as their bodies melded together in exquisite joy, he decided it didn't matter.

Deserved or not, he was happier than he'd ever been in his life.

+++++++

It was crazy the things that brought it out in them. For him, it was watching Vin with the horses. Didn't matter if Tanner was brushing them down, checking a hoof, sliding on a saddle or bridle -just seeing the look of pure contentment in his eyes as his steady, sure hands accomplished their task was enough to send Chris over the edge. They'd tussled in the hay more times than he could count .

For Vin, it appeared to be something else entirely. Chris still couldn't figure out what it was about the way he put on his socks that made Tanner lose control. Whatever it was, Chris had learned the hard way that if he wanted to get anywhere on time, he'd best start getting ready a good thirty minutes before he generally needed to. He chuckled to himself as he recalled that their earlier romp had apparently been prompted by the simple acts of shaving and brushing his teeth. Vin had leaned against the bathroom wall, watching him with a hungry look in his eyes. And then he'd dribbled a dab of toothpaste down his chin, and before he knew it, Tanner had pretty much licked his face clean - as well as most of the rest of his body. The man was like a damn cat, purring all the while he sucked and nibbled and kneaded - and if he didn't quit thinking about this, Chris quickly cautioned himself, he was going to get hard all over again. There was no time for that, as the gang would be there shortly, plus a few other special guests.

It was December 29th - a date that fell nicely between two holidays, and the one that had worked best for all of their friends and family to get together at the ranch. Nettie and Casey would be there, as well as Orin and Evie. And for the first time in months, Mary and Billy would visit - along with Gerard and his daughter. Chris was happy for Mary, although he had to admit that it was partly because it let him off the hook. He could look at her now without guilt, knowing she and Billy were far better off with Gerard than they could have been with him.

Unfortunately, the same would never be true for Vin. Chris knew that his lover would always feel regret over the outcome of his relationship with Charlotte. Her ultimate fate may have been out of his control, but Vin couldn't shake his feeling that he'd somehow let her down when she needed him most.

In spite of those feelings, however, he was certain that Vin was as deliriously happy as he was. A fact that was reinforced when Vin entered the bedroom wearing a goofy grin and an even goofier Santa hat.

"Christmas is over, thank God," Chris snarled, in his best Scrooge imitation.

But Vin was staring at him with that glazed look in his eyes. "Damn, Chris," he mumbled, "don't be doin' stuff like that when we got company comin' anytime now."

Chris shook his head as he looked down at his feet. "I'm not going barefoot in December. Go in the other room if you can't behave while I finish getting ready."

Too late. Vin was on the edge of the bed next to him, nipping his ear while he murmured, "I like you barefoot, Larabee . . . like you just plain bare, any time, all the time."

"This is what I'm reduced to," Chris groaned as Vin continued his assault, "being devoured by a cowboy in a Santa hat who has a bizarre sock obsession."

"Ain't the socks I'm obsessed with," Vin rasped as he moved his mouth along Chris's throat.

"No?"

"No. And you love the hat. Admit it."

"I love what's under it," Chris growled as he pushed Vin back on the bed, ripping off the hat and running his fingers through the thick brown waves.

Vin grinned up at him. "And who you callin' a cowboy? Ain't me who can't keep his pants on whenever he's in the barn. Think maybe you got a horse obsession, Larabee?"

"Ain't the horses I'm obsessed with," Chris breathed before wiping the grin off his lover's face with his lips and tongue. But the ringing of the door bell quickly brought a halt to any thoughts of going further.

It was a pleasant evening, filled with laughter and the special warmth that comes from sharing good times with good friends and family. Still, Chris found himself looking forward to two nights from then, when he and Vin would ring in the New Year alone together. They'd spent Christmas day alone, too, riding horses, watching old westerns, and making up for lost time. Although, Chris admitted to himself with a sly grin, they'd probably made up for lost time a dozen times over by now.

Vin came up behind him then, slipping an arm around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder as the last of their guests drove away. "What you ponderin' on there, Cowboy?" he said softly.

"The New Year. And all the different ways we can ring it in."

"Hmm? Old-fashioned ways?"

"Maybe. But then again, maybe we should bring in the new year with some new tricks, y' think?"

"I like the sound of that," Vin said as he moved in front of him.

Chris welcomed him in to his arms. "Wanna practice tonight? Get warmed up?"

"Already done won the race, Pard, but practice does make perfect."

"Yeah," Chris breathed as he pulled Vin close for a deep kiss. "Come practice with me in the bedroom, and if you're real good, I'll let you watch me untie my shoes and take off my socks."

The low growl in Vin's throat was the only response he needed.

The End

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