Whisper on a Scream

Ezra stared at the door leading to Vin's apartment and wondered for the fiftieth time if he should knock. He didn't even know if Vin would answer the door or not, much less let him in. At that thought, a stubborn, determined expression settled onto the Southerner's handsome face. So much had happened in the week between their mutual confession of love, and for some reason, today had been the worst. Ezra needed to know why.

The two men had stayed for some hours out in the little hideaway that Vin had arranged for them last weekend. It hadn't progressed beyond kissing and gentle caresses, both men acknowledging that their newly admitted feelings for each other were too fragile for more passionate expression then. But as they drove home that night, reluctantly departing in their separate vehicles, each had hoped that soon, they would feel secure enough in this uncharted territory to freely explore the strong emotions between them.

They so far hadn't gotten that chance. For the next five days, their unit was kept hellishly busy, with only short periods of time in between for snatched rest and food. Finally, by the sixth day, an exhausted Chris Larabee had called a halt to their inhuman schedule and informed Travis that other teams would have to take their calls for the next twenty-four hours. Knowing the pace they'd been working at, Travis had readily agreed, but not before they received one last call.

It hadn't been too difficult a call as Search and Rescue operations went. A man and his teenaged daughter had been out hiking when they'd been caught in a mudslide. The father had managed to push the girl out from the direct path of the slide, but had been caught himself by the limbs of a tree pulled free in the rush of loose soil. Even still, he had been incredibly lucky. The mud had absorbed most of the impact of the man's body and the branches. Instead of broken bones and internal injuries, the most the trapped hiker was likely to suffer was some nasty bruises and sore muscles.

It was a filthy job, but the rescue efforts had been going well until Josiah and Buck had carefully hauled the huge man out from under the tree limbs. As they set him on his feet, Vin had looked up from where he was comforting the man's daughter and had paled to a ghostly white. He'd swayed unsteadily on normally sure feet and would have fallen had not Chris, who was standing beside him, reached a bracing arm around his shoulders. The young man had uncharacteristically shrugged off his best friend's offered comfort and stalked off towards one of the trucks. He'd driven off without a backward glance.

With the others' attention focused on the rescue, Ezra was the only other member of the team to see Vin's atypical reaction. He'd shared a confused and concerned look with his team leader. Chris had shaken his head, and Ezra had taken it as a sign not to say anything to the others and had readily complied. Both had expected the Texan to head for the hills like he normally did when something got him that upset. Both had been surprised to find the truck parked in the garage when they'd returned to base and to see a solitary light shining in the window of his living quarters.

Ezra knew that Chris had tried to talk to the younger man earlier that evening, but Vin had not acknowledged his best friend's voice or knocking. He still didn't know why he thought Vin would respond to him any better, but after witnessing the haunted look on the sharpshooter's face, Ezra also knew that he had to try. No one should be left alone with whatever horrific thoughts plagued the younger man.

Firming his resolve, Ezra rapped his knuckles against the wooden door and waited. He received no answer. Mouth a grim slash of determination, the Southerner knocked again and this time called out softly, "Vin, it's Ezra. Please let me in."

Several more long moments passed. Ezra was just about to knock again when the door suddenly swung open, and he found himself staring up into a stranger's face. Vin wasn't the most expressive of men, but anyone looking at him always got the impression of life and thought and feeling behind the careful, easygoing façade he presented to the world. Now, though, Ezra didn't sense anything beyond a blank, impenetrable wall.

Then Vin's gaze sharpened, and he seemed to see Ezra for the first time. The older man gasped as that blank wall cracked a little, and he caught a glimpse of the tortured soul hiding behind the blue eyes. Vin said nothing, but an iron grip trapped Ezra's right wrist and tugged him inside the apartment, the movement so sharp that it nearly caused Ezra to lose his balance. Shutting the door behind them with an eerily final bang, the Texan remained silent as he half-led, half- dragged Ezra through the living space, up a flight of stairs, and directly into his bedroom. A single, dim lamp glowed on the bedside table, casting everything in inky shadows. Vin didn't release his captive until he had Ezra seated on the foot of the bed.

Moving as if on autopilot, Vin knelt down before the Southerner and removed his shoes and socks, cool hands unfastening Ezra's belt and sliding it out of the loops. Then Vin rose to his feet, circled around the other man, and yanked back the covers. Hooking an arm around Ezra's chest from behind, Vin climbed onto the bed and pulled the smaller man to him, front to back, as if he weighed nothing at all. The steely embrace loosened only long enough for Vin to reach down and flip the blankets over them and to turn off the lamp. Then both arms again came around Ezra's chest in a vise-like grip, and a hot forehead pressed against the back of his neck.

Ezra accepted the manhandling without struggle, realizing in the first instant that Vin needed his compliance on a level that had nothing to do with the rational or sane. He laid quiet and still within that desperate embrace, denying his own need to touch and comfort, until he felt the tremors crashing through the body behind him increase in intensity. Careful to keep his movements slow and deliberate so as not to spook his shaken lover, Ezra brought his hands up to the ones crossed over his breastbone and lightly stroked his fingers over the clenched fists. The fists opened at his gentle coaxing and engulfed his smaller hands in a bone-breaking grip, pressing them tightly over the thumping beat of Ezra's own heart.

A soft, tremulous voice that Ezra barely recognized as Vin's spoke into his ear. "When I was thirteen, I was livin' on the streets. I'd run away from the last foster home the state put me in, figgered I was safer with the bums and winos. Bin out there for several months when I run inta Kale Richter.

"He was a big fella, big as the guy we pulled out of the mudslide today, an' 'bout the same age. He was helpin' out at one of the shelters I was stayin' in durin' a real nasty ice storm. He took a special interest in me, made sure I had enough ta eat an' the like, but what really hooked me was the way he listened ta me. No one had since my ma died, 'r wanted ta. But Richter seemed ta really care, an' I was really needin' somebody like that right then."

The voice paused a moment, and Ezra felt an indrawn breath against his neck. "Two months later, an' I'm livin' with him in this nice little house in the 'burbs. An' it's still good between us. Richter always made sure I had plenty ta eat and wear, even got me goin' back ta school. The best part, though, was all the time we spent together in his garage fixin' up the two old Harleys he had. He taught me how ta ride an' everythin'. I never knew my dad, but I figgered then I couldn't do no better than Kale Richter. I actually started believin' I'd finally found a place ta belong."

Ezra stared hard into the inky darkness that surrounded the bed, afraid to blink lest the tears filming his eyes fell. His stomach had twisted itself into a tight knot of apprehension and empathetic pain. He knew where this was going.

"Things started changin' so slowly that I din't notice it at first. Richter had always bin a touchy-feely kinda guy, always slingin' an arm over my shoulders 'r pattin me on the back 'r huggin me when I let him get away with it. So I din't think nothin' of it when the touches got more frequent 'r lasted longer. Jist figgered it was Richter bein' affectionate, an' I returned the gestures like a "good son" would.

"That's when it all started goin' bad. Richter got more an' more aggressive, but he wasn't hurtin' me none at first, jist demandin' more intimate kinds of touchin' . . . mostly jist mouth an' hand stuff. I din't fight him on it 'cause I thought I owed him fer what he done fer me." Vin's voice dropped to an ashamed whisper. "I . . . I even liked it ta begin with. I din't know I could feel like that, an' here this man who'd taken me in was teachin' me all about it. I thought it was all right."

The shamed tone was the final straw for Vin's captive audience. Leaning away from the Texan just enough to be able to turn over, Ezra wrapped his arms around Vin and held on tight. The curly-haired head tucked itself under his chin on a natural instinct, hiding its owner's face from a cruel, uncaring world. No tears fell, but the hitched breathing that puffed against Ezra's throat betrayed Vin's struggle. Carding the fingers of one hand through the dark blond curls, Ezra said firmly, "It wasn't your fault, Vin. Richter knew exactly how to manipulate you, how to use your body against you. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing."

Ezra didn't know if his words penetrated Vin's private hell, but a few seconds later, he began talking again. "Richter stopped carin' 'bout how I felt soon enough, 'cept for how much pain an' humiliation he could cause me. I din't have no one that I could turn ta. Richter made sure of that when he threatened all sorts of violence against me an' the one I told if I talked.

"But I finally couldn't take it no more and tried ta leave. I never made it outta the house. Richter knew what I was goin' ta do an' was waitin' fer me. He beat the shit outta me that night. I tried ta fight him, but he was jist too strong fer me."

Ezra closed his eyes involuntarily, seeing the scene in his mind's eye. There wasn't much to Vin now, there was no way his thirteen year-old self would be able to fend off a monster Richter's size. Oh God, how terrified he must have been! Ezra curled as much of himself around the adult Vin as he could, willing him to feel the shelter and safety Ezra offered.

Vin was beyond such comfort at the moment. In a dull, dead voice, he continued, "When he got tired of hittin' me, he drug me by my hair, which was long then, too, inta the bedroom an' tossed me onta the bed, stomach down, an' tore my shirt off. I thought he was gonna take me again an' tried ta crawl off the bed. Shoulda jist stay put, me movin' only made him madder. He clocked me good an' put me back where he had me 'fore. Then he said he was goin' ta make sure I knew who owned me an' he . . . he . . ."

The words ground to a halt, and Ezra felt a body long shiver snake through the man in his arms. Abruptly pulling out of Ezra's warm embrace, Vin flicked on the small lamp on the bedside table. Ezra caught a glimpse of a chalk white face and dead blue eyes before Vin yanked his t-shirt up over his head and rolled over onto his stomach. At first, Ezra didn't know what he was supposed to be looking at; but as his eyes roved down the expanse of the Texan's back, his horrified gaze riveted on the quivering muscles just below the shoulder blades.

There, right above an abnormal curve in Vin's spine, was rudely carved the letters "K.R."

White-hot rage crashed into unutterable sorrow, stealing away breath needed to form words. Choking on an airless, sickened gasp, Ezra reached out trembling fingers and lightly traced the white-lined ridges of the marred flesh. Vin jumped at his touch then seemed to force himself to lie still. One hand gently stroking Vin's back in a calming gesture, Ezra impulsively lowered his head and pressed his lips to the twitching skin, wishing with all his heart that his kisses could somehow wipe away the pain and terror those marks represented. Tears pricked his eyes again, and he let them fall unimpeded onto the skin his mouth lovingly caressed.

Vin rolled over then and stared up at him with an unreadable expression. Ezra did nothing to hide his tears or the furious pain coursing through him, yet his fingers conveyed only the love he felt for this man as he curved them around the planes of Vin's face. In a soft, steel-laced tone, Ezra told him, "Those are not the marks of ownership, Vin. They are badges of courage and survivorship. You survived, beloved, and proved yourself so much stronger than that monster could ever hope to be."

Vin's eyes widened at the passionate words, the blue brightening with wonderment. Covering the hands that cradled his face with his own larger ones, he whispered hoarsely, "I never let nobody seen them scars until you. I din't want no one's pity 'r ta hear them tell me I deserved it fer not gettin' away from the bastard sooner. But I knew ya'd understand an' wouldn't judge." Vin turned his head far enough to brush his lips over one of Ezra's palms, the blue of his eyes never breaking from the green of Ezra's. "God, I love ya, Ez."

Again unable to push words past the thick knot of emotion clogging his throat, Ezra decided to let his actions speak for him. Leaning down, he caught Vin's lips with his own and kissed him with all the tender passion he felt for the strong, courageous man beneath him. Vin responded with equal passion, his long fingers trailing up Ezra's shoulders and neck to bury themselves in the thick, chestnut hair. The two spent several long moments just savoring each other's taste and heat and nearness before Ezra reluctantly pulled away. Shushing Vin's protests with a finger over his mouth, the Southerner sat back against the headboard and gathered his lover into his arms.

Resting his chin lightly on the top of Vin's brown-gold head, Ezra finally found his voice. "You can tell me anything, Vin, and I will always understand and never judge. I love you, Vin Tanner, forever. There isn't anything you have done or could ever do that will change that."

A shudder rippled through Vin's body at the declaration, mimicking the ripples across the surface of his soul. Such simple words, yet their effect changed everything. Rolling his head to one side, Vin pressed a brief kiss over Ezra's heart before resting his ear over the same spot. With the steady sound echoing the beat of his own pulse and his lover's gentle fingers tracing random patterns on the heated skin of his back, he found the strength to finish his story.

"After the beatin', I knew he'd kill me eventually if I stayed. I waited 'til I was healed enough ta walk an' stole one of them Harleys. I din't get very far 'fore he noticed I was gone an' come after me. He chased me all over town an' I thought he was gonna catch me fer sure when we went 'round Dead Man's Curve. Guess it was named right, 'cause I heard this crash behind me. I din't slow down 'r look back ta see what happened, but I found out later that Richter lost control'a his bike an' hit a tree. He died instantly."

Bastard got off too easy. Ezra thought viciously, struggling to contain the fury he felt at the long dead man. Vin needed his gentleness and understanding right now, not his anger, however righteous it might be.

Vin went on as if he didn't notice, and Ezra breathed a sigh of relief. "I jist kept on goin' after that, never settled down in any place fer too long 'r let anybody get too close. I cut my hair real short, too, almost as short as Nate's. Had ta, anyway, while I was in the Army, but I really jist din't want no one ta ever be able ta use it 'gainst me like Richter did. Jist started lettin' it grow out again 'bout two years ago. Figgered I wasn't gonna let Richter have that much control over me anymore.

"But I was lettin' him. I was all alone 'cause he took away my ability ta trust anyone, an' it was killin' me on the inside. Then I run inta Chris on that mountain an' everythin' changed." Vin paused, brow furrowing, then shook his head in frustration. "I cain't explain ta ya, Ez, what I feel fer Chris 'cause I ain't all that sure myself. It's like I was drownin' an' all of a sudden someone's throwin' me a lifeline. He understands me like no one else ever has, an' I guess I do the same fer him. I do love him, but with Chris, it's more of a brother kind of feelin', I guess, 'r the brothers-in-arms feelin's men have fer each other durin' a war. When he's not around, it feels like I'm missin' my right arm 'r I'm blind in one eye. I jist ain't balanced proper without him.

Ezra shifted uneasily at the heartfelt declaration. He'd known that Chris was important to the younger man . . . hell, anyone who'd ever seen the two of them together knew that . . . but he had never fully realized just how deep those feelings went. How could he ever hope to compete with that much strong emotion?

Sensing his distress with that uncanny way of his, Vin raised his head off his living pillow and looked deeply into Ezra's shadowed eyes. "But ya, Ez . . . God, I cain't live without ya. Yer the other half of my heart, my very self. Even when yer not around, I can still feel ya beside me an' taste ya in the air I breathe. Yer so deep in my soul now that if I ever had ta choose between ya an' anyone else, even Chris," Vin swallowed hard and continued in a stark, honest whisper, "I'd choose ya. If I ever lost Chris, I'd be off balance fer the rest of my life. If I lost ya, there'd be no rest of my life."

Ezra stared at Vin, totally unable to believe what he'd just heard. He'd just barely begun to accept that Vin loved him at all. To know that Vin's love for him went so deep that it eclipsed every other bond the sharpshooter had made, even the unusually tight one that existed between him and Larabee, shocked the Southerner to the core. All his usual doubts and insecurities about his unworthiness reared their ugly little heads with vicious suddenness, and he had to close his eyes before Vin could see the despair in them.

He wasn't quite quick enough. Vin did see, and through his own pain, understood. Knowing that Ezra couldn't be pushed into talking, the young Texan simply brushed both his lover's closed eyelids with tender butterfly kisses and settled back down against the warm body.

They lay quietly together, legs and arms entwined, the lamp bathing them in its dim glow. After a time, Ezra pulled back a little to look at Vin directly, the lines of his face set with determination. Vin had been brutally honest with him. He could do no less than return the favor, and he wanted to do it face to face, if he could stand to. It was the least his lover deserved.

"I entered into university at the age of sixteen . . ."

The End