The Heaviest Weight
I'll be falling all about my own thing
And I know you're the heaviest weight,
When you're not here that's hung
Around my head.- Dave Matthews, I'll Back You Up-
_______________________The semi-darkness of early dawn crept slowly through the room, a weak intrusion into blackness. Chill air filled the space, the product of an overworked air conditioner that had run at a steady sixty-seven degrees all night long; its labors had gone unnoticed by the lone occupant of the room's single bed.
Aside from the muted sound of breathing, nothing else in the room indicated that anything lived in that space. Movers had picked up neatly-boxed clothes and wrapped picture frames yesterday along with the few pieces of furniture other than the bed. They would pick that up today, and then the carpeters would come to rip out the worn material of the rug and replace it. Almost, almost they had reduced the room to bare bones and later, when Chris left, he'd take some of its soul with him.
Covers rustled softly as he turned over onto his side, pulling the single piece of paper to his chest.
Night still clung tightly to the room so Chris couldn't make out the few lines of print but had rehearsed them endlessly during the few hours of daylight that had passed between his receiving them and the night.
He had picked up the paper that morning as he'd always done- a long-ingrained habit that had, in the few years and hours since late Monday night, taken on the role of being the only thing Chris could count on. He hadn't counted on reading those words, hadn't counted on them leaping out of the miscellaneous and unimportant articles like an accusation
Knew the words, the cold precision of them, typed in clinical Times New Roman font and printed in blotted ink on the newsprint; he had a lot of that ink all over his hands now, but plenty remained on the page. He could see the ghosts of those letters typed against the black obscurity of his closed eyelids.
DOWNTOWN DENVER RAID TURNS DEADLY
From the AP Wire Service
DENVER: A sting gone wrong claimed the lives of four people, including two federal agents, on Monday. While five leading members of the notorious Illyich weapons cartel were successfully taken into custody, two unidentified hostages were left for dead along with ATF agents Robert Lamberti and Vincent Tanner."The whole of the Denver branch mourns the loss of two innocent lives and also the lives of our two agents," District Attorney Orin Travis said in an official statement following the conclusion of the operation. "Rob and Vin were two great agents, and both of them were a credit to the ATF... they will be sorely missed." Christopher Larabee and Norman Allen, supervising agents for Tanner and Lamberti, respectively, declined to comment.
Names of the two hostages will not be released to the press, pending review by ATF Internal Affairs. Memorial services for Tanner and Lamberti are to be held at the First Denver Lutheran Church on Sunday the 18th.
EDITOR'S NOTE: The events of this story occurred while the Monday edition of the POST went to press. Full coverage will appear in tomorrow's edition.
Chris closed his eyes even tighter until red tendrils crept across the blackness and obscured the letters that had branded themselves there. Part of him wanted to lash out at the bastards on the AP Wire- how fucking dare they reduce Vin's death to a headline, three paragraphs, and a memorial service? Part of him wanted to lash out at the bastards who had sent empty, meaningless condolence cards.
Dear Chris-
Sorry for your loss. Vin was a great guy and we'll miss him. --Uma, Grady, Krissy, Lyle, Pete, Tom #1, Tom #2, Henry; Team Eight
For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to reap what was planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down; and a time to build up A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. ~*~*~* Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 --Rick, Dan, Matthew, Marissa, Veronica, Wylie, Paul; Team Four
Dear Chris-
Sorry for your loss. Vin was a great guy and we'll miss him. -- Oliver, Ferris, Jack, Natalie, Quincy, Lucy; Computing
For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to reap what was planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down; and a time to build up A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to blah blah, yack yack... shitfuckinggoddamn stones anyhow.
Dear Chris-
Sorry for your loss. Vin was a great guy and we'll miss him. Yeah but you won't fucking miss him as nearly as I do, shitwads. -- whoever the hell else sent a godfuckingdamn condolence cardHe forcibly banished all thoughts of the AP Wire and the Condolence Card-Carriers from his mind but found himself wishing for their presence again, to distract him from the images of Vin's still body lying there, the beauty of its planes and flattened curves hidden by the black impersonality of the body bag. The coroner had only unzipped the bag enough to reveal Vin's face, dark purple bruises incongruous against the pale, pale skin.
"That's him." The two words flashed across Chris's mind like lightning and in his ears, he could hear the echo like the afterimage of bright light. A heavy weight wrapped itself around Chris's body, pulling downward with a terrible and inexorable force.
That weight... made up of nothing, of the absence of something. Made up of the ache, a void that throbbed with pain.
One last time he brushed an errant strand of brown hair from his partner's still face, and the coroner had re-zipped the bag with a murmured apology that meant nothing. Chris couldn't tear his eyes from the sight of the shiny black material slowly covering Vin's face and neck, hiding his partner/best friend/lover from his sight forever.
In accordance with Vin's will, after the autopsy, he would be cremated and his ashes scattered in the Rockies; that would happen after the public memorial service with its damned symbolic coffin- by that time, there would be just enough left of Vin to fill a small urn. Give the public time to mourn, Travis had urged, even knowing that Vin wouldn't want a public spectacle made of his death.
SUBJECT: This Sunday
FROM: otravis@daofc.denver...
<Reply-to> otravis@daofc.denver...
TO: clarabee@atf.teamseven...
DATE: Wed., July 19 1345.43 GMTChris:
Please reconsider what you're asking here... It would mean a great deal to the Bureau and to the public to know they have your support in this. Rob's family has personally asked me to talk to you about this matter- Vin and Rob died together and the Lambertis want them honored together. Give me a call later and we'll talk.Orin.
Yeah, well... damn you Orin. You got what you wanted.
Damn Lambertis...
Chris groaned and turned over again, tangling himself in his sheets.
His sheets?
Vin's sheets.
Chris took one deep, desperate breath, pressing the fabric to his nose. The ghost of a scent drifted up to him, anything of Vin in it hidden by the scent of detergent. Almost, almost he could smell something of Vin, an elusive hint of soap and a phantom of the heady fragrance of Vin's skin and hair. Clutching the sheets even more closely to him, Chris buried his head into the crook of his left arm, pressing it against the bed.
Unbidden, a soft cry rose in his throat and he felt the returning of that weight, a heaviness that pulled at him and urged him into the darkness, a burden beyond all common measure.
+++++++++++
"Chris? Hey, cowboy? You alright?"
The soft drawl took a minute to penetrate the haze of exhaustion and grief that enveloped Chris; when he first heard those muted, tentative words he couldn't believe his ears. A repetition of the questions- a little louder this time, a little more urgent- forced him to turn over, and his eyes widened in shock.
"Musta been some dream," the Texan observed with a dry twist of his mouth, standing over his lover with his arms wrapped across his chest. "Remind me to never take ya out for Thai again, pard."
"Shit," Chris exhaled, leaning back into the pillows, still caught in the space between dream and reality. "That you, Vin?"
"In the flesh," Vin responded, arching an eyebrow. "You sure you're okay? Look like you've seen a ghost."
"Thought I did for a second," Chris mumbled; at the puzzled expression on Vin's face, he shook his head and said, more loudly this time, "Not important." He forced a game smile and patted the empty space on the bed next to him, suppressing the twinge of unreal sorrow at the thought that, just moments ago in some otherwhere, that space had been empty and cold, forever.
If Vin saw the consternation Chris was trying to hide, he didn't show it, but unceremoniously pulled his boxers off and climbed in under the covers next to his lover. Only when he had pressed his body closer to Chris's, and only when Chris could feel the reassuring solidness of his lover's form against his did Vin look at him directly and ask.
"What is it Chris? An' don't tell me it's the Thai... I know that's not it." The blue eyes bored relentlessly into Chris's, demanding an answer. An honest answer. Chris took a deep breath, stalling for time and tracing his index finger across the contour of Vin's shoulder; the younger man shuddered under the teasing contact but didn't break his gaze.
"Just thinkin'," Chris murmured.
"'Bout what?" the Texan asked softly, capturing Chris's hand as it wandered down his chest.
"Stuff." Chris evaded Vin's prodding and pulled his hand loose from the prison Vin held it in. He resumed a random course over Vin's body, moving in no particular pattern from the silky brown hair falling on the younger man's neck to his nipples back up to the curve of his shoulder and upper arms, down to the hair of his crotch to stroke the slowly-stiffening erection.Vin's breath came raggedly but the blue eyes remained fixed on Chris as he demanded, "What kinda stuff?"
Chris shrugged elaborately, not halting his slow exploration of Vin, relishing each second his hands and eyes spent rediscovering the perfection of the body next to him-
the scars across the finely-muscled chest and arms that, instead of marring beauty, only made it greater
the long, tapered fingers that sought to capture Chris's own fingers but instead found themselves redirected to Chris's chest
the delicate bones of the face that formed themselves into an architecture of indomitable determination
the deep blue of the eyes that could go from heartbreaking clarity to a dark storm in the space of a heartbeat, the passion and wildness and knowing that flickered through them. And Chris saw demanding in those eyes now, knew that Vin knew he had something on his mind. The same determination in the set of Vin's jaw echoed itself in his eyes.
"You'd think it's stupid," Chris muttered.
"Try me," was the Texan's reply as Vin moved closer and rubbed his hands across Chris's chest, bending his head closer to lave a delicate kiss against Chris's collarbone.
"Had the craziest dream," Chris said into Vin's hair, trying to sound dismissive. He massaged Vin's biceps, finding comfort in the slow, repetitive motion. "Dreamt that you got killed in a bust," he continued, forcing a slight laugh. "Fucked up, huh?"
The hands caressing Chris's chest paused and Vin looked up at him from under passion-heavy lids.
"Ain't fucked up," he said seriously. "Could happen. It could happen to anyone, Chris. Could happen to Buck, Nathan... me. You."
"Shit, Vin," Chris moaned, feeling that weight tug at him. "That ain't what I wanted to hear."
"Facts of life, Chris," Vin whispered, and pain swam in the blue eyes. "Time don't last forever... but we got this time together, don't we?" he asked just before leaning forward to press his lips against Chris's.
"Guess we do, cowboy," Chris murmured against Vin's lips.
Vin took the opportunity to work his tongue into Chris's mouth, and Chris felt an electric shock at the sensation of Vin's tongue against his own, against his teeth and the sensitive lining of his cheeks. The rough, warm insistence of Vin's mouth pushed away the clinging fragments of the dream and dispelled the weight around Chris's body.
The cold, deadening weight disappeared and in its place was Vin and a plunge headlong into sensation.
Chris tore his mouth from Vin's and let it roam freely over his lover's face and neck, exploring the sharp edges of bone and the sensitive skin at the junction of neck and shoulder, and that right underneath Vin's jawbone. The fine stubble scraped against his lips, its roughness diminishing as Chris moved further down Vin's neck to his collarbone and then down some more to the brown nipple that had already begun to contract in anticipation.
A low, rumbling growl sounded in Vin's chest; Chris could feel the vibration through his lips, a pulsing that poured into him and flooded into his cock with relentless force. He pushed his attention away from his throbbing shaft and focused on the tight nipple under his lips, nipping and licking at the tightening skin until it stood erect; through the haze of pleasure created at doing that, Chris felt Vin's hands eliciting the same responses from his body- a hot, demanding roving of callused skin over his arms and torso and nipples and finally, inexorably, downward even further.
Vin's fingers closed around Chris's shaft and began to dance along its length. Red-hot pleasure flooded through Chris, a tide that left him gasping for breath as endless waves crashed over him and threatened to send him over the edge before what he wanted to happen, happened.
"Wait... wait a sec," Chris managed to say, reaching down to halt the agonizing delight wrought by Vin's hands even though so much of him screamed a loud negation at the end to its ministrations. Vin himself pulled back a little, the question in his eyes forming on his lips, but Chris forestalled the asking of it by pressing his mouth to Vin's in a swift, heated kiss.
Chris fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the bottle of oil. With fingers made graceless by need he pressed the bottle into Vin's hand and, unable to vocalize his need, turned over onto hands and knees.
God, he needed Vin in him. Nevermind that he had almost always taken the lead in their lovemaking... he needed Vin in him, wanted that fire and wildness poured into him along with sweat and oil and cum- time enough in the future to surround himself with heat and tightness... now, he needed Vin at his back, the slight weight of his body draped over Chris's own.
Past the pounding of his heart he could hear the slivery metal sounds of Vin unscrewing the cap and the wet slicking of an oiled hand against skin. A split second later, an oiled hand gripped Chris's cock with a firmness that made him gasp, expertly stroking the length of it and urging it to even greater stiffness. Ecstasy danced on the edge of pain as slippery fingers rimmed the edges of his opening and then as one gently penetrated it.
One, then
Two, and then
Three-
all stretching and searching with a restrained ferocity that only made Chris want to call up that wildness, to push back onto those fingers and send his own body over the edge. He held back, though, even with the enticing, burning sensation of the head of Vin's shaft pressed against his opening.
He felt his body loosen around the invading cock and, in one rush of pain-and-pleasure, take it in all the way- a slow, inexorable progression.
And then... oh, God, and then...
a weight, hot and wild and wet against his skin with the slickness of sweat and hungry lips on his shoulder blades and neck
a weight that thrust into him in long, steady strokes that pushed him up on his hands but made him fight back and shove himself onto his knees once more
a weight made heavy with bone and muscle and sinew and passionate blood pounding through a giant's heart and everything that made a person alive
a weight that surged forward and fused itself with chris and pushed itself into him one last time to hit that secret place in chris's body in an exultant silence with only a hoarse cry of joy and release from pain from chris to cut across it as heat exploded into and out of him
a weight that collapsed on chris's back but caught itself with two strong arms in time to fall to the side and pull chris's body over it with those same arms
a weight that pulled him down onto a hot chest with that heart thundering in it.
Chris sank gratefully under that insistent pressure into warmth and comfort and a timeless forever and, inevitably, into Vin.
END