There were some things that just didn't seem right. Spending Christmas Eve in the hospital was one of those things, but at times there was no way around it. Dr. Elizabeth Stone folded her stethoscope into the pocket of her lab coat, wished the last of her departing co-workers Merry Christmas, and started on her rounds. Her trauma team took turns each year; half taking Christmas Eve and Christmas, the others working New Year's Eve and New Year's. This was her turn to work the Christmas rotation. It wasn't a duty she minded particularly; and it was generally easier working Christmas since it didn't involve the drinking, partying, and mayhem that New Year's did. Her family was out of state, she didn't have a spouse waiting for her at home, and since when did a doctor have a life, anyway? That was a choice she had made a long time ago and she rarely felt a twinge of regret.
Rounds took longer than usual; even at eleven o'clock enough patients were awake and had family members visiting that she felt compelled to spend time with them. Everybody wanted some sort of reassurance that at this time, of all times, their loved ones were mending and would be home soon. In most cases, that was true. It was her job - more than her job, her life - to put broken bodies back together. That was her gift to them no matter the season.
The last room on the floor was in the NE corner, tucked away from the bustle of the reception desk, and close to a nurses station. It was the one reserved for the most critical patients, and the current occupant might as well have his name stenciled on the door. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time there, and of all the things that didn't seem right, Vin Tanner being in the hospital on Christmas Eve seemed the least just.
The chances of him being alone were pretty slim, however. One or more of his six ATF teammates were there around the clock, sitting at his side, reading to him, praying for him, or just standing watch like guardian angels hovering over an infinitely precious charge. At first their devotion to each other had been a mystery, then bit by bit as she learned their history, she realized that like so many men in difficult, dangerous professions, they were not mere co-workers, but brothers. And for two of them, Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner, perhaps more than that ...
She set her hand to the door, took a breath to push that thought out of her mind and prepared herself for the usual verbal skirmish she seemed to get involved with whenever she entered the room. Even flat on his back and down a few pints of blood, Vin Tanner wasn't exactly a tractable patient, and if Chris Larabee were there with him, well, then the anticipated skirmish could easily become a protracted battle.
What she didn't anticipate was being blindsided.
The door opened soundlessly on well-tended hinges. There was a small area with a washstand just inside the door, so that her entrance was slightly screened. She could see the bed, but unless the patient was sitting upright, they couldn't see her. Her first thought was that if all the heavenly hosts had been singing Glory Hallelujah, their presence would have gone unnoticed by the two men inside.
Chris Larabee was sitting on the bed at Tanner's side, one hand gently cupping his cheek, the other holding his hand. Their eyes were locked on each other, and as she watched, Chris bent towards Vin and kissed him. And it was not a sexless, tender kiss on the forehead or cheek to comfort or sympathize. This was making love.
Tanner's hand, IV tubing and all, moved slowly up Larabee's arm, stroked his face, slid up into the wealth of golden hair, threaded through the silky strands and held him close. She heard a soft, passionate moan deep in his throat, heard Chris whisper, "Easy there, partner," as he broke off the kiss, but remained in his lover's embrace. The curve of his body over Tanner's was protective, strong, loving. It made her ache.
She backed out the door fast and as silently as she had nearly entered. Thank God for crepe-soled shoes and quiet doors! She stood for a moment collecting her thoughts. Was she shocked? No more than if she had walked in on a heterosexual encounter. She had done that as an intern and it had been a lot more than a kiss! She laughed softly at the memory.
Was she surprised? Definitely. Even with the bond she knew the two men shared, she had no reason to believe it had become sexual in nature. Chris Larabee might not have been on the dating circuit as actively as his friend Buck Wilmington, but she had never suspected that he was anything but straight. And Tanner was so quiet and wary of even the physical contact of medical care that she had wondered if the marks of trauma on his body had left scars on his psyche as well. If they had, it seemed Chris had somehow overcome that fear. Her heart warmed at the thought. Lord, if this kept up, she might actually have to *like* the man.
Chagrined at that possibility, she tried to put on her most severe medical face, knocked loudly on the door, and re-entered the room. How Larabee made it from the bedside to the window without even looking flushed was a mystery. And Tanner was only betrayed by the pulse rate on the bedside monitor. Elizabeth tried to hide her smile as she perused his chart.
"Well, 'm I gonna live, doc?" Tanner asked. His blue eyes were wide, innocent, and totally disarming.
"Looks like," she said. She adjusted her stethoscope and leaned forward to listen to his heart. "Sounds pretty good. A little fast." She arched a brow, and he blushed. Not quite as cool as he seemed, then. She straightened. "I need to take a look at your side, see how that knife wound is healing."
"It's fine." Tanner said stubbornly. "I'd let ya know if it wasn't."
"Oh, and your medical degree is from what university?"
He sighed, conceding the point. She turned the blankets back and pulled his gown aside, still keeping him covered from the waist down. Beneath the pad of gauze and tape, the wound in his side looked innocuous, scarcely an inch wide and closed with only a few stitches. The damage had all been internal, and it had been severe enough to require transfusions and careful monitoring. Even now, two days later, he was still pale and thin. She carefully re-taped the wound; his withdrawal from even that slight touch contrasting sharply with his ease in Larabee's arms.
"It seems to be healing well," she said.
"So, can I get out of here?"
"In a few days."
"Not for Christmas?"
"Not this year." She was making notations on his chart and didn't see the crestfallen look on his face or the way Chris Larabee turned sharply towards her. If she had, even she might have taken a step back from that laser glare of his. But by the time she finished and put her pen away, Vin's eyes were closed and Larabee was watching him with an expression she had never seen on that hard, fine face of his.
"Can we talk?" he asked. "Outside."
"Chris," Vin protested. "S'all right. It ain't the first Christmas -"
"It's not all right. Doctor -" Before either she or Vin could offer further protest, Larabee took her arm and guided her into the hall.
Once out there, she pulled away quickly. "I could call security," she said. He raised a blonde brow, and she shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Let's go into the waiting room so all the nurses don't see us arguing on Christmas Eve. That would be quite a present."
They walked down the hall to the small private waiting room. The TV was tuned to a channel that had suspended a shopping network in favor of Christmas carols and the volume was low enough that they could talk easily. For a long minute Chris was silent, and she wondered if she should start her argument.
"Where were you eleven years ago on Christmas Eve?" he asked abruptly. He stood by the window, gazing out at the falling snow and Christmas lights.
It wasn't a question she had expected. She thought back. "I was doing my first ER rotation as an intern in St. Louis. Where were you?"
The memory wasn't an easy one for him, she could see it in the set of his shoulders, by the tension in his jaw. "I was celebrating the news that my wife was going to have a baby. It was the best gift I'd ever received. And one of the happiest days of my life."
"I-I'm sorry," Elizabeth apologized gently. The story of Sarah and Adam Larabee's murders had broken the first year she was in Denver. She hadn't known then that their lives would become entwined. She just remembered it as a terrible tragedy that had been in the news for weeks and then faded into oblivion when it hadn't been solved.
"Do you know where Vin was?" He was still looking out the window, turned from her so she couldn't see his face, just the dim reflection in the window glass.
"How could I?"
"He was here. In this hospital. He was a kid, living on the streets. And somebody thought they'd take what little he had and more. And when they were done, they beat him so badly that they broke his leg and left him to die in an alley in Purgatorio. A couple of cops found him unconscious and nearly bled out. If it hadn't been so damn cold, they would have found a corpse. That's how he spent one Christmas. And it might not have been the worst. I don't want him to spend another one here."
"Oh, God. I'm sorry, Chris." The pity of what he had told her made her feel slightly ill. "But he's hurt, he needs -"
"He need to be out of here! He needs to be -"
"With you?"
She had thrust under his guard and he turned to her fiercely. "I lo -" The words stopped as if they had hit a brick wall.
"You love him," she completed the phrase for him. "Chris, I *know.*" She felt the heat of a flush on her cheekbones, a slight embarrassment that she would have to admit to witnessing that very private moment. "I was in the room a bit earlier than you realized ... I saw ..."
He was guarded, but he didn't deny anything or try to offer a specious excuse. "Then you know why I'm asking you to let him come home for Christmas."
It was so like him not to tender apologies or explanations but face everything head-on and fearless. She wondered how many wounds and blows he had suffered without letting on, how many more he was willing to bear? He was either incredibly brave or incredibly foolhardy. But then, her father had said the same thing about her when she had decided to take on the emotional risks of being a trauma specialist. "Go into dermatology," he'd advised. And she had laughed.
"Doc?"
"I'm sorry, Chris. I *can't*. He's still on IVs, still fragile. It would be too risky. If you love him, you won't ask me to do this."
Defeat did not come easily to him. But logic did. "I had to try."
"I know. You're welcome to stay the night. I can have a cot brought into his room." Damn, she was blushing again! And he was looking at her with that speculative raised brow and just a hint of amusement at her discomfort.
"I'll have him out of here by New Year's," she suggested gently.
"It's not the same, is it?" He stuck his hands in his pockets. Sighed. Took his hands out of his pockets and thrust them through his hair. "Hell. I had plans. A big tree, great dinner, the whole nine yards. It was supposed to be special."
Judging from what she had seen, he could have planned Christmas at the city dump and it would have been special as long as they were together. But you couldn't say that to a man whose plans were in tatters and whose worry for his lover was written plainly in every expression. If he were a different man, in a different occupation, she could have said that there was always next year. But like him, she knew in this perilous world there were no absolutes. And he had learned too cruelly that to promise a future was a lie.
"Why don't you go back to him and I'll see about that cot."
"He won't go for it."
"Are you going to let him get away with that?" She smirked at him. "Maybe you should let me do the talking."
He smiled, the first relaxed expression she had seen on his face in two days. "Maybe I should."
As she watched him stride down the corridor, she shook her head. Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner ... it seemed both utterly unfair and utterly right.
7*7*7*7*7*7*7
She was there, the cot was there. The only part of the plan that wasn't working was getting Vin to agree to it. He sat in bed, his arms crossed, looking Texas stubborn and arguing with Chris Larabee.
"Go home, Chris. Sleep in yer own bed. Ain't no reason fer us both t'be miserable."
"I *want* to stay."
"Well, mebbe I don't want ya to. Ya ever think a that? Hell, yer bad enough at the ranch in the morning where ya got good coffee and a decent mattress."
"One night isn't gonna kill me, Tanner."
"Yeah, well it might kill me. I need my rest. Right, Doc?" he entreated. "An' I wouldn't git it with you snorin' the paint off the walls, Larabee. Go home." He punctuated that by sliding lower in the bed and closing his eyes, looking suddenly fragile and worn out.
"Fine." Chris glared at the oblivious Texan. "Merry Christmas."
"So ... you don't want the cot?" Elizabeth tried not to grin. It was the best show in town when these two got to wrangling with each other. "I'll just move it outside, then." She rolled it out into the corridor and stood there, listening to a surprising silence. Maybe the show had been for her benefit. She waited another minute. When she stepped back inside, Chris was sitting on the bed, holding Vin's hand.
"You know I wanted this to be real special for you, partner," he said quietly. "I had plans."
"Well, I reckon that was mistake number one," Vin sighed. "Shouldn't make plans. Thought ya knew that by now."
Chris chuckled. "Yeah, I should know it." He ran his knuckles lightly down Vin's cheek, touched his hair. "It's not right, you being here on Christmas Eve."
"It ain't like I never been here before, Chris. And I'll be outta here real soon."
"Not soon enough. God, I miss you." Ragged need edged his voice and he kissed Vin tenderly, smoothed his hair one last time before he stood. "Merry Christmas, partner."
"Ain't Christmas yet, cowboy. Save it for the morning."
Chris put his coat on, gave Vin a light touch on the leg, and brushed past Elizabeth.
"Chris, wait!" She caught his arm and held him back.
"What?"
"Merry Christmas." It wasn't what she had intended to say - not the words that said she was sorry, that she understood. He wouldn't have believed that.
"Sure. You too." His eyes were hard, but they were looking inward, not at her. Maybe this was the one blow he couldn't fend off. He set his flat-crowned black hat on his head and walked away.
She went back inside, angry at herself and at him, and met Tanner's amused blue gaze. He knew Chris Larabee like he knew his own heart, and was pretty darn good at reading her, too. She shrugged helplessly. "I suppose he means well."
Tanner gave a soft snort of laughter. "Jist remember that next time ya get in a dust-up with him."
She came to the bedside, picked up his wrist and felt for his pulse. Strong and steady, slower than it had been earlier. The lab work from the blood drawn earlier should be up soon. She took his temperature. Normal. She frowned at him, not saying a word.
"I ain't so sure I like the way yer lookin' at me, Doc," he said. "Somethin' not right?"
What wasn't right was the fact that he was here instead of with the man he loved, and who loved him. She shouldn't even be entertaining that thought. Not knowing the condition he had been in two days ago.
"Doc, is somethin' not right?" Concern roughened his voice and she came back from the brink of a decision to find him watching her, blue eyes wide and dark in his pale face.
"No. You're fine." She sighed, folded her stethoscope and brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. It slid back, making her less formidable, more approachable.
"Ya look tired," Vin said. "How'd ya git lucky 'nough t'spend Christmas here?"
"Luck of the draw," she said, smiling. "It's not the first one."
"Then you and me're drawin' from the same deck." His fine fingers pleated the bound edge of the blanket. "This ain't my first Christmas here either," he said softly. "Was a while ago, but I remember it."
She didn't know what to say to that; whether she should admit that Chris had told her the story, if she should let him tell her, or if she should change the subject.
"Is it snowin'?" he asked.
Maybe he had decided for her. "Yes."
"Big flakes?"
She smiled. "Yes."
"Big fat white flakes like glittery feathers driftin' down," he sighed. "Was like that then, too. My leg was broke and they'd strung it up with weights. Cain't say I's real happy about that, but least I's off the streets, warm, and eatin' regular."
His voice had changed, become soft and distant. His eyes were blurred with the memory, and she knew he had forgotten she was in the room. She was still, almost afraid to move, letting him talk and fascinated that he *was* talking.
"An' I got a present. One of the cops that found me came t'visit. Gave me a copy of Huck Finn." His lips curved in a faint, bitter smile. "She didn't know I couldn't read it back then. But by the next Christmas I could. So I figger that was alright. Warn't such a bad Christmas, after all. So ya see, Chris ain't got no reason t'fret about my bein' here."
"He loves you."
His breath drew in sharply and what little color he had drained from his face. If he could have fled the room, he would have. Fear and panic flashed through his eyes and he seemed to shrink against the pillows. He looked at her, struggled to find his voice. "Hell, where'd ya git an idea like that?" he croaked.
She could have bitten her tongue for her unwitting words. Apologies wouldn't work. Honesty might. "He told me."
"No, he wouldn't." He shook his head in denial. "Me n' him -"
"Vin, he didn't *have* to tell me. I walked in earlier. I saw the way you were together. Trust me, I can add up two and two better than most people."
"Guess ya got an eyeful," he said warily. "Sorry."
She looked down at him, crossed her arms. "I'm a doctor, Tanner. There isn't much I haven't seen. You and Chris are consenting adults and what you do, medical issues aside, is none of my business. Gay, straight, bi - I don't care. But I know love when I see it. And it isn't anything to be ashamed of, so settle down. Okay?"
The tension left him and he slid down the pillows, a faint color returning to his cheeks. "Okay." Those blue eyes were clearer now, deep and untroubled. "Thanks, Doc. There's a lotta folks who'd turn their backs on what you saw."
"I know better than to turn my back on you two," she replied, mock severity in her voice, but the hand that rested on his forehead was gentle. "Get some sleep."
"I ain't tired."
"Then Santa won't come."
He grinned up at her. "Right." But he ruined the jaunty effect with a yawn. "Doc?"
"Hmm?"
"Larabee don't snore," he murmured. His eyes closed, long lashes soft on his cheeks.
Elizabeth Stone, the redoubtable chief of Emergency medicine who struck terror into the hearts of anybody fool enough to cross her, had to turn away and blot her eyes with the sleeve of her lab coat.
"Dr. Stone?" A nurse spoke from the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Tanner's lab results are in. You said you wanted to see them."
She took the paper from the nurse, read it, and stood tapping it lightly with her fingers. "Thanks, Sue. Keep your eye on him."
"I sure will." She smiled. "That's the best job I've had all night. He's not exactly hard on the eyes."
Elizabeth went to the window and looked out at the snow. Glittering feathers. Tanner might struggle to read, but he had the gift of poetry in his speech. Her thoughts turned towards the boy with the shattered leg, the shattered life. He deserved better than another Christmas spent in the sterile confines of Mercy General.
She couldn't believe that she was having those thoughts; not after the stand she had taken so adamantly earlier. She didn't have to make a decision yet. It was a long night; but still ... "All right, Tanner," she whispered. "Let's see if I can grant you and Larabee your Christmas wish."
7*7*7*7*7*7*7
The night was slow except for a brief flurry of activity in the ER following a minor automobile accident involving a church van and a pick-up truck. A few bumps and bruises, and nobody admitted for an overnight stay. After that, it was unusually quiet. No traumas, just the usual: babies on the way, flu-like illnesses, the homeless people who used any excuse to come inside and warm up. On Christmas, the nurses passed out cups of coffee and let them stay for a bit longer than usual.
Elizabeth handed the reins to her resident and went to her office to catch a few minutes of precious sleep. On the way, she stopped in to see how Tanner was doing. He had turned slightly on his side which told her that he wasn't in any discomfort from the wound, his pulse was steady, and Sue told her that his BP was nearly normal and temperature was just fine. There was even a hint of color in his lips, which had been so pale just that morning. Tanner usually healed fast, but this was pushing it even for him. She wondered if miracles were possible on Christmas Eve, but she would wait for the results of the morning labs before she passed judgment.
Weary, she put her feet up on her ottoman, tilted her chair back, and closed her eyes. She dozed there, half alert for the vibration of her pager. An hour was all she expected, and was surprised that when she next opened her eyes, it was 6am on Christmas morning.
She yawned, stretched, ran her hand over her hair. She could hear the sound of the morning lab carts rattling in the corridor. The patients didn't get much more sleep than the doctors on duty in the hospital, she thought wryly as she touched up her makeup and waited for the small coffeemaker to brew her morning ration of starter fluid. Armed with a mug of coffee, she stepped out on the floor to see where she was needed first.
"Merry Christmas, Dr. Stone," Sue greeted her when she paused outside Tanner's door.
"Is it?"
"Mr. Tanner slept through the night. His temperature is normal, blood pressure just a bit higher than it has been. The lab results should be in soon. He looks good," she smiled, "And not just because he's good looking."
"Thanks for keeping an eye on him."
"Believe me, it was a real pleasure." She tilted her head slightly. "You're thinking of releasing him today, aren't you?"
"Possibly. It depends on the lab work."
"Do it. He really wants to be out of here."
"Don't we all?" Elizabeth replied. "I'll be down in the ER. When you get those labs in, page me."
7*7*7*7*7*7*7
Chris Larabee stood in his family room, a cup of coffee in his hand, glowering at the Christmas tree. He and Vin had picked it out, cut it, and put it in the garage to acclimatize, intending to decorate it together on Christmas Eve. A two-bit perp with a knife had ended those plans. Still, at some point yesterday Buck, JD, and the others had come out to the ranch, set the tree up and trimmed it. So now it was there, and all it did was remind him of how alone he was, and how much he had been depending on Vin's presence to bring joy to his holiday.
He sank down on the couch, his hands wrapped around the heat of the mug. Hell, he shouldn't be feeling sorry for himself. He had more pleasant memories of Christmas than painful, more joy to remember, more sweetness to savor. Vin had nothing but a faint, faded recollection of his mother and grandfather when he had been a child, and then nothing but pain, loss, and loneliness for too many years. That he should have to spend even one day away from the men who had become his family or one moment away from the man who was the other half of his soul and his lover seemed bitterly unfair.
His phone rang and he snatched it up, worrying that it might be the hospital. It wasn't; it was Buck's cheerful voice on the line. "Hey there, old son. Merry Christmas."
"Is it? I hadn't noticed."
"You know, you make Scrooge look good. Least you could say is 'thank you for setting up my tree.'"
"Thank you for setting up my tree," Chris said, his voice sounding as dull and dutiful as a child reciting by rote.
"Chris, is something wrong? You hear some bad news from the hospital?"
"No. It just doesn't seem right, though. Vin being there."
"That's a rough one. But I ain't about to go up against Doc Stone."
"Coward."
Buck laughed. "Don't tell me you did?"
"I tried. Didn't work."
Buck sighed. "Listen, you want me and JD t'come over?"
"No! Jesus, Buck. I'm a big boy. And I'm going to the hospital as soon as I take care of the horses. I know you and JD had plans to take Casey and ...?" He couldn't recall Buck's current favorite lady offhand.
"Kerry."
"Right. Casey and Kerry skiing. It would be a real shame to waste that powder."
"Ol' pard, you know I'd throw it aside in a minute if you asked me."
Chris sighed. "I don't need company, Buck. Like I said, I'm a big boy."
"Ya know where t'reach me if you change your mind. But if ya don't, wish Junior Merry Christmas from me and JD."
"I will. And, Buck, thanks."
"Ho, ho, ho." With that, he signed off.
Chris set the phone down and after staring morosely at the tree for a few more minutes, gave up on mustering any holiday cheer at all and went to take care of Peso and Pony.
It was a glorious morning, not too cold; with an inch of fresh snow that glittered and sparkled in the sunlight. As Chris walked through it, the light, dry flakes coated his boots and dark clothing with a sprinkling of diamond dust and the air was as crisp as fine champagne. He ached in his heart, thinking that Vin should be walking beside him. If his plans had worked out, he and Vin would be taking Pony and Peso out for a ride through the woods. He would have packed a thermos of coffee and some of those sticky cinnamon buns Nettie had baked for Vin. And when they got cold, they would have ridden back to the ranch and stripped off in front of the fire ... they would have made love there, and then sated and warmed, they would open their presents, drink hot buttered rum, eat the dinner Chris had planned.
It wasn't going to be that way, and Chris's anger at the unfairness and pain of it rose in him. He paused for a moment at the barn door, his eyes closed, fighting self-pity. For God's sake, *Vin* was the one in the hospital and the only thing Chris could do was to make damn sure that he wasn't there alone on Christmas day. He opened the door with a savage jerk, startling Peso and Pony in their stalls.
By the time he calmed the fractious Peso down enough to approach without having his fingers bitten off, some of the raw hurt he was feeling dissipated, and as he brushed Pony to gleaming perfection he was able to think of Vin without feeling like spurs were raking across his heart. He gave the horses their Christmas treat of Nicker Snax, the equine equivalent of cookies made with oats, molasses, carrots and apples; spoiling them because Vin would have spoiled them if he had been there. He left the stable door open so they could have the freedom of the corral for a while and returned to the house.
He was nearly out the door when his cell phone rang.
"Hey there, cowboy," Vin sounded slightly out of breath, but it might have been the connection.
"I'm just about to leave the ranch. You need something?"
"Chris, don't come jist yet. The doc's got some sorta test they need t'do, prob'ly take a couple hours."
Chris's heart sank. "What kind of test?"
"Hell, I dunno. X-rays r'somethin'."
"I'm on my way."
"No! I don't want ya sittin' around while I git poked n'prodded. S'bad enough I gotta go through it. I'll give ya a call, okay?"
"Let me talk to Dr. Stone."
"She ain't here. Chris, it's nothin' serious. Really."
"They don't do medical tests on holidays unless it *is* something serious."
"Jesus, Chris. Will ya listen t'me fer once? Don't come here. I mean it. Jist sit tight and I'll call as soon as I can. Okay?" There was a pause as he waited for Chris's response. "It's Christmas, and I'd rather think a' you sittin' by that tree than sittin' in a waiting room. Please, Chris."
"Yeah. All right. Though I don't much like it," Chris growled. "I don't hear from you in two hours I'll be on my way."
"Fine," Vin sighed. "Two hours." Once again that pause. "Merry Christmas, cowboy. Love you." He hung up before Chris could respond.
Chris stared at the cell phone, wondering why he didn't just throw it into the deepest snowdrift he could find since the only thing it ever did was bring him bad news.
7*7*7*7*7*7*7
Vin hung up the phone and sat back against the pillows. He grinned at Elizabeth Stone. "Like lickin' butter off a knife," he said.
She stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed, glaring at him. "If *anything* goes wrong, Tanner. I *am* not being held liable, is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Here's the deal. I drive you out to the ranch. You are not to walk around except for the usual emergencies. You are going to park your butt on the sofa and stay there. You are not going to eat your usual selection of junk food instead of light, balanced meals. You are not going to drink alcoholic beverages -- not even eggnog. *And* you are not going to engage in any questionable activities - and yes, you might as well blush because you damn well know what I mean! Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said meek as a lamb. He hadn't been so thoroughly chastened since the days of his Army boot camp, and he was pretty sure that Drill Sergeant Mike "The Hammer" Hammersmith would be cowering at Elizabeth Stone's feet if he were the one she was glaring at. Hell, she could give Larabee lessons if it came down to that.
"Good." A smile softened her mouth. God, Tanner looked so young. She could almost imagine him as the boy Chris had told her about and not the man he was now. She sat in the chair next to the bed and spoke softly to him, looking into those deep blue eyes.
"Vin, I wouldn't be releasing you if I thought you didn't understand how serious this is. You should be here at least two more days. Your blood counts are still very low, and I can't completely rule out infection even though I'm prescribing enough antibiotics to choke a horse. If you feel faint, if you start running a fever, if anything else doesn't feel right, call 911 and get back in here. Not even Christmas is worth your life." She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please, Vin."
"I ain't a fool, Doc. I got a lot t'live for these days. I'll do what ya say. Might kill me, but I'll do it."
She laughed. "It won't kill you! But I might if you don't. And so will Chris. You really don't want to rile us both, do you?"
He gave a mock shudder. "Cross my heart."
"Then let's get you out of here. We're about to give Chris Larabee one hell of a Christmas present."
7*7*7*7*7*7*7
Chris paced. He watched the clock. He tried to eat, but the ham sandwich tasted like sawdust. And less than an hour had passed since Vin's call. He'd gone against Vin's request and tried calling the direct line to his room with no result. He'd called the nurses station and was told that Mr. Tanner was out of the room for tests.
Tests. God.
He ran his hand over his hair in frustration and collapsed on the couch. What should have been one of his best Christmases was becoming a nightmare. His head dropped back against the cushions and his eyes focused on the star at the top of the tree. He thought of the story of the first Christmas. He used to read it to Adam every year from the time he was old enough to understand it. The star had led the Three Kings to Bethlehem. Chris closed his eyes and wished that it could lead Vin home.
He was still sitting there when he heard the sound of tires on the drive outside. He wasn't expecting company. Didn't feel like having any, either. Not even Buck and JD. He was still counting down the minutes before he could jump into the Ram and take off for the hospital.
The bell rang, and Chris groaned. Buck had a key. He just never remembered to use it. Chris hauled himself off the couch and went to the front door without looking out the window.
"God damnit, Buck! I gave you a k -"
"S'cold out here, Larabee. You gonna let us in?" Vin stood there with Elizabeth Stone on one side and a tall orderly on the other. He was pale and looked about as substantial as a shadow, but he was upright and grinning at Chris's shocked expression.
"Merry Christmas," Elizabeth Stone said. "Tom, help Mr. Tanner inside and get him settled before his knees give out. Take his vitals while you're at it."
Numbly, Chris moved aside to let Tom and Vin through the door. He was too dumbfounded to speak. He gave Elizabeth a look caught between joy and disbelief. "I can't believe you did this," he said. "Last night -"
"Last night was twelve hours ago and things change."
"Well, something sure changed." He knew her too well to think that she would have jeopardized Vin's recovery just to grant him a Christmas wish. "I owe you, Doc."
"I did it for his sake, not yours. He wouldn't be here if I didn't believe he was going to be all right. But I'm warning you, Larabee, if he ends up back in the hospital, the next time you come under my knife you'll wake up missing an important part of your anatomy."
Chris choked. He didn't doubt that for one minute. "Hell," he said weakly. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Doc."
Beneath the glower, a smile played at the corner of her lips. "I tried, I really tried not to let him talk me into this ..."
"Yeah, but he just gave you one look with those baby blues and you caved." Chris's lips gave an answering twitch.
"I did not! It took at least two looks and one sigh." She shook her head and lost the smile battle. "Don't think this is going to become a habit."
Chris's brow shot up. "Me? Doc, trust me, your secret is safe. I've got a reputation to protect, too."
"Bad-ass Chris Larabee, huh?"
"You got it." He held out his hand. "I can't tell you how much this means to us both."
She clasped his hand warmly. "You don't have to tell me, I can see it with my own eyes." She looked past him. "Tom, you ready? We're AWOL as it is."
The orderly came out of the den. "All settled. I gave him your instructions and he seems comfortable. BP is good, pulse is a little fast, but nothing a few minutes of rest won't bring down. No fever."
She drew in a breath. "Okay, then we're good to go." She followed Tom to his SUV and looked back at Chris standing in the doorway. A light breeze lifted his hair, and he raised his hand. She thought she saw something in him she had never thought to see.
Peace.
She waved, climbed into the passenger's seat, and they drove away. She buckled up and leaned her head against the backrest. "Put on some music, Tom. Something seasonal."
He found a station, turned up the volume, and "I'll be Home For Christmas" floated from the speakers. It seemed uniquely appropriate for the day.
7*7*7*7*7*7*7
Chris closed the door and returned to the den, still feeling a bit unfocused, like he was dreaming. But he had felt the cold breeze on his face, so he knew this was no dream. Vin was standing in front of the Christmas tree, his arms wrapped around himself, his face tilted up to the star on the top. The lights softened his features, lent elusive color to a face that Chris knew was still too pale and drawn.
He glided over to Vin, folding his own arms around that slim, hard body. "You shouldn't be standing here," he said. "C'mon back to the couch."
Vin sighed. "I jist wanted t'see it up close." He touched a small silver bell ornament with a fingertip, and it chimed sweetly. "You do this?"
"No. Buck, JD, and the others did it yesterday while I was at the hospital. I wasn't in much of a tree-trimming mood without you here." He breathed in the scent of Vin's hair, a foreign combination of winter freshness and the slightly medicinal hospital shampoo. "I figured it didn't matter if you weren't here to see it."
"Almost wasn't," Vin said, turning in the circle of Chris's arms. "Good thing I talked Doc Stone into letting me out of the hospital."
"Yeah, right," Chris snorted. "Like either one of us had any influence with her."
"She knows about us, Chris."
"Do you mind?" He felt Vin shrug; a small, diffident motion.
"She said it don't matter to her. And maybe that's why she let me out. So we could be t'gether."
"Ain't no 'maybe' there, partner. Though she'd have my hide for letting you stand around here like this. So back to the couch. Now." With his arm still around Vin's waist, he guided him over and gently lowered him to the cushions. "Don't settle just yet. Let me get situated here." He wound his body sideways, stuffed a big pillow between the arm of the couch and his back, and sat with Vin cradled against his chest. He pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and covered Vin, then stretched his own long legs out. "There, how's that?" he asked. "Warm enough?"
"Mmm. Feels real good." He tilted his head to look up at Chris. "Like I'm back where I belong."
"You are back where you belong." Chris bent his head and claimed Vin's lips. There was heat in that kiss -- there was always that -- but also gratitude, relief, and peace. Vin slid his hand over Chris's chest until it rested over his heart. He felt the steady throb against his palm, the warmth of Larabee's flesh, the hard solidity of his muscles. He sighed deeply, then worn out from the exertion of getting from the hospital to the ranch, sank quickly into a peaceful, healing sleep.
Chris stayed there until he was sure Vin wouldn't be disturbed if he moved. And even when he carefully extricated himself, Vin caught at his hand and murmured something in his sleep. Chris soothed him, much as he had soothed Adam to sleep when he was a child, then unfolded his body and stretched. He stood looking down at his sleeping lover.
How had he ever come to this love? What had he ever done to deserve it? Questions he would never be able to answer; he could only express his deepest gratitude to whoever had given him Vin to love. He had his suspicions, and his eyes went to an ornament on the tree; an antique carved angel he had brought for Sarah on the first Christmas they had been in this house. The day she had told him she was pregnant. She had given him one miracle ... why not another?
He went to the tree and stroked the angel's wings. "Guess you're still lookin' out for me, babe," he whispered. "Merry Christmas, Sarah. Give our boy a kiss from his daddy." His voice caught there, painfully; the ache of loss and grief still raw.
"Chris?" Vin's husky whisper came through the early twilight. He swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood, still a bit unsteady but feeling restored by his sleep. Sure was nice waking up without somebody trying to take his temperature. Larabee was standing by the tree, his hand poised above his angel ornament, his head bowed.
Vin hesitated, not wanting to intrude and yet aching to go to the man he loved. He swallowed hard. "Y'all right?"
Chris turned, the tears on his face glistening in the soft glow of Christmas lights. "Yeah, I am. Now." He opened his arms, reached for Vin. He let Chris gather him to his side and slid his arm around Larabee's lean waist. He reached out and touched the angel.
"Sure is purty. Bet Sarah musta loved it."
"She did."
"Know what I think?"
"What?"
"Doc Stone didn't hafta let me outta the hospital. Didn't think she would. Maybe Sarah put in a good word, kinda whispered in her ear. Told her you n'me belonged t'gether."
Chris's head rested against Vin's. "She brought me a lot of joy. It's no wonder she brought you home for Christmas."
They stood for a while, close and warm: the sweetness of being loved, the best present that could have been given to either man. When Vin leaned into him more from necessity than comfort, Chris drew him back to the couch. He stood frowning down at him.
"What? I'm fine. Hungry, but fine. Okay?"
Chris raised a brow. "The last thing I need is to have to pick you up off the floor. I'll get you something to eat. It won't be the prime rib I'd planned, but we can have that for New Year's. I think I can scare something up, though. There anything else you want?"
"Yeah. How about some tunes? I didn't hear any carols in the hospital. I kinda missed 'em."
Chris turned the stereo on and as he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen, he paused and smiled at the music that drifted from the den.
I'll be home for Christmas,
You can count on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe,
And presents on the tree.
Christmas Eve will find me,
Where the love light gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
The End
