Vin watched Buck disappear around the side of the house, then listened to the rattle of his truck fade down the empty road. When he couldn’t hear it anymore, Vin sat on the deck and tried to sort through what all had happened in the brief space of time since he woke up - Chris was sick, JD was accusing, his world continued to shatter - but all his mind would focus on was the feeling of safety, hidden against Buck, just for awhile being able to let someone else bear the pain and heartache.Even now, he wiped at his damp lashes, and made a futile search of his pockets for a handkerchief or Kleenex. Even now, thinking about how good it’d felt to set that lifetime of ache into someone else’s arms, fresh tears filled his eyes, and he brushed them away as he heard Chris walking out to the deck.
"Vin? Remind me later on to do something, will you?" Larabee asked, wearily setting himself down next to Vin. "Remind you to do what?"
"Breathe," Chris said. He bent his head down and put his hands over his eyes. "This has not been a good morning."
"And it ain’t even ten thirty yet." Vin agreed. He wanted to shift away from Chris, automatically thinking he shouldn’t sit so close to him, so close to anybody. People didn’t want him too close, the thought sprang up from nowhere. People just waited for him to go away again, that was all. "You want me to go home?" he asked suddenly. Chris lifted his head and peered at him through unreliable eyes.
"Why would I want you to go home?" he asked, puzzled. Vin shrugged.
"Might want your life back."
It took several moments for Chris to answer. "You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to. Mary’ll be home after awhile. I’m not so sick I can’t stay by myself."
Vin tried to gauge Chris’ response and meaning. Larabee was never a man to lie, even in small things, even by omission. Even if it would make somebody else feel better.
"Buck said I should feed you." Vin finally answered. "Said it might make your headache better." He pushed himself off the wooden step and tried to not let his aching body make him shuffle toward the house. "You want some bananas and milk?"
"Sounds good." but Chris’’ voice was as flat as if Vin had suggested sawdust. He stood up and followed Vin inside. Cowboy had decided the couch was a better place to sleep than the floor and didn’t even open his eyes as the two men made their way to the kitchen.
Vin had spent a lot of time at Chris’ house in the three years they’d known each other. But as much as Chris - and even Mary - expected him to feel at home, sometimes he hardly felt comfortable getting himself a glass of water without asking permission much less anything more. It was only because he wanted to help Chris that Vin got things together to make bananas and milk.
Chris set himself back at the kitchen table. His headache was now a dull pounding, and he thought about trying to get some work done while he was at home. Then he watched Vin a minute or so, moving slowly and precisely as he pulled bananas off the bunch, and took spoons out of the drawer. When he reached up into the cupboard for bowls though, he sucked in a breath of pain, and pressed an arm around his ribs. Chris quickly changed his mind about getting work done. He went to the freezer and opened the door.
"Hey Vin?" he asked, as he gazed at the frozen contents. "When was the last time you took a day off from work?"
"You mean, unscheduled?" Vin kept his arm pressed close, and pain echoed in his voice.
"Yeah, when’s the last time you called in sick?"
"Year ago April, I had the flu or something. Seems like I call in sick one full day a year..." he obviously wondered what Chris was getting at. Then Larabee reached into the freezer to take out ice cream and Cool Whip.
"You know, since we’re both playing hooky, I say we go for the gusto..."
+ + + + + + +
"You know Chris..." Vin looked over his jumble of ice cream, whipped cream, fresh and frozen fruit, sprinkles, and God-only-knew what-all in the huge bowl he held in his hand, "No soda jerk worth his paper hat would call this a ‘banana split’." He was in the recliner, turned slightly towards Chris who sat stretched out on the couch. Cowboy was nowhere to be seen.
"I told you - this is called ‘Larabee Lush’. Old family secret." Chris held his own huge bowl and soup spoon.
"Chris?" he waited until Larabee looked up again to whisper loudly. "Ain’t a secret if nobody else wants to know it."
"You get no more cashews." Chris threatened and Vin laughed.
"How’s your head anyway?"
"Still hurts, but I’m so drugged up, I just don’t care." Finding no napkin within reach, Chris wiped a smudge of chocolate sauce off his chin with his hand, then wiped his hand on his jeans. "How ‘bout you?"
For the briefest moment, Vin felt a shudder run up from the base of his spine and out his hands, making the soup spoon rattle softly. Flitting specters whispered vile things to him. "Still workin’ on it."
+ + + + + + +
When Mary opened the front door into her house, it was nearly dinnertime. Billy had begged to stay with his grandparents, who just ‘happened’ to be going to Chuckee Cheese that night. She carried two heavy handfuls of shopping bags through the front hallway and into the family room, and she smiled at the sight that greeted her. Chris lay stretched out on the couch on his stomach, dead asleep. One arm hung over the side and rested awkwardly on the floor near a dirty but empty soup bowl and spoon. A blanket covered him haphazardly.
Vin slept as well, his sore body supported in the recliner by three oversized pillows, and covered with another blanket. His hands still held a similarly dirty and empty bowl and spoon, and he had flecks of ice cream and chocolate sauce in one corner of his mouth.
Mary smiled at her husband and her friend, and the mess they’d made. She straightened the blankets and took possession of the bowls and spoons and underused napkins. She noted a couple of spots of dried ice cream on the carpet that would need to be cleaned up later, and the sticky fingerprints on the remote stuck between couch cushions near Chris. But she shook her head, thinking that they were worth the extra trouble, especially if it meant they were both sleeping peacefully and undisturbed.
She took the dirty dishes and opened the folding door into the kitchen.
And came nearly eye to eye with Cowboy who stood on the kitchen table, eagerly cleaning out an empty half gallon container of ice cream.
Around him - on the table, on the counters, on the floor - were strewn the wreckage of a confectionery binge. Melting ice cream containers; empty jars of chocolate sauce and butterscotch sauce and assorted sprinkles; whipped cream canisters; half-eaten packages of cookies, chocolate chips, and chopped nuts; banana peels and a tin of frozen strawberries dripping into the sink; and a package of paper napkins that looked like it exploded all over the kitchen.
Cowboy wagged his tail at seeing her, but didn’t stop his mission to get every last bit of ice cream out of the box. Mary stared a moment, set her dishes on the counter and shut the sliding door over again. She held in a sigh as she walked past her husband and her friend again, took up her packages and went upstairs.
THIRTY-TWO
Mary watched in amused silence as Vin shuffled and bleared his way through the kitchen to the downstairs half-bath. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he was oblivious to the devastation around him, and to Mary standing at the sink. A few minutes later, he came back down the hall and stopped in the archway, finally seeing the mess. "Damn - how drunk were we?"“From the wrappers and cartons, I’d say you were more likely on a sugar high.” Mary told him. “No doubt “the Larabee Lush”?”
“Oh Mary. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it looked this bad before.” He took a hesitant step into the kitchen, as though wondering where to get started. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Vin Tanner – don’t you dare. You’re in no condition to be cleaning this up.”
“If I was in a condition to cause the mess, I oughta be in a condition to clean it up…”
“You did have a little help from Chris and Cowboy.” She pointed out.
“Cowboy? Ohh – wondered where he got to…I’m sorry Mary. I’ll clean it up.” He sounded sad.
“You are not going to clean this up.” Mary insisted again, and was surprised by the sad look Vin turned on her.
“You cleaned up the bathroom after me the other day, didn’t you? Chris helped me clean up my apartment yesterday. You do my laundry, you’re letting me stay in your house. Mary – let me do something, will you? Please?”
Mary never had any intention of making Vin clean up the kitchen – although Chris was another matter. But he looked so unhappy, and sounded so much like he wanted to have a say in his life again, that she relented.
“Well, if you’ll clean off the table, that’ll be a big help.” She said, and was rewarded with a genuine smile. “But you’re not doing anymore than I tell you you can do.”
“Thanks Mary.”
+ + + + + + +
A half hour later, the kitchen was spotless again, Chris still slept on the couch, dinner was in the oven – and Cowboy was still relegated to the outdoors until the intestinal effects of his own binge had passed. Mary and Vin sat down at the clean table to a cup of tea.
“Reckon he’s still breathing?” he asked of Chris, gesturing toward the family room.
“Oh - he’s still breathing. Don’t you hear him snoring?”
“Hmm – thought it was thundering again…” He took a sip of tea, and Mary could see that his hands trembled a little.
She thought the day was warm enough, but he still wore Chris’ favorite cotton plaid shirt over his own plain blue one. He’d rolled the cuffs back to clean the table, but overall the shirt just hung large, long, and protective on him. The bruises on his eyes seemed less distinct today, and Mary could only wonder what the rest of his body looked like, with his ribs cracked and his back broken, and how he walked like an old man if he sat too long in one place.
“How do you feel today?” she asked.
“Wore out.” But he quickly added: “Not from helping you clean. Just – like I need more oxygen than I’m getting. Or something. I don’t know. Just –“ he breathed it out. “Wore out.”
“How have you been sleeping?”
“Good.” He sounded surprised. “Kinda strange. Figured I’d be getting nightmares – getting beat up like that. Buck figures I’ll be due for some one a’these days, nights rather.” Another sip of tea went down.
So – Buck knows, Mary thought. She reasoned that Nathan had to know, and of course Chris knew. But Vin didn’t know that she knew, and she decided to keep it that way.
“Well, if you get any nightmares tonight, I’m blaming it on Chris’ ice cream explosion. All that sugar, I’ll be surprised if you get to sleep at all.”
“Naah, I’ll sleep. The painkillers tend to put me out for a while. Y’know I ‘preciate you letting me stay here. Can’t imagine there’s many ladies out there would let their husbands bring home strays.” Vin’s description of himself as a ‘stray’ exasperated Mary, but she kept her face neutral and her voice light.
“Buck was the stray that Chris brought home. He acted just like it too. Happy, inquisitive, eager to please, totally confident that I would love him. “ But she saw Vin’s eyes narrow in thought, and she wondered if he was comparing himself to her description of Buck. “And of course, he came with fleas.” She added. Vin nearly choked on his tea and he reached for a napkin to wipe his mouth.
“What kinda fleas are we talking about here? Wouldn’t surprise me at all if Bucklin had the “sociable” kind once or twice in his life.” He said, and Mary nearly choked as well.
“I wouldn’t be surprised either.” She laughed. “Fortunately he’s never mentioned it.” Hoping that Vin was in a little better mood, she went on. “I remember the first day I met you. It was more like Chris was the stray you brought in, helping him carry all his boxes to his office, offering to show him around the campus, introducing him to people. You don’t know how much he appreciated that.”
Vin shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t doing anything else that day anyway…”
“Come on Vin. You know Chris would rather freeze to death in the dark than admit he might need help with his – shall we – say people skills.” And a slight grin started in the corner of his mouth.
“Ain’t that the truth. Sometimes it’s like you gotta remind him “please” isn’t a curse word.” They both laughed at that. “Well, guess I’ll take the trash out to the curb for you.” He stood up and went to set his empty cup in the sink.
“No, you’ll hurt your back.”
“Y’got wheels on your garbage cans, I’ll be okay.” He hefted the two plastic kitchen bags of garbage they’d collected and headed down the little hallway to the door into the garage. Vin was always surprised by how much trash a family of three could generate. If he threw out a whole bagful each week that was a lot. He punched the button to lift the garage door and one by one tugged three wheeled garbage cans out onto the driveway. His back twinged a little and he reminded himself to take a few more painkillers when he went back inside.
All in all, he felt pretty good. He’d eaten too much junk food and slept away the afternoon, waking up occasionally to catch a snip of the Munsters Marathon on Nickelodeon.
He felt surrounded by friends. In an hour he’d sit down to another real dinner, not just the cereal or leftover take-out he usually had at home. Buck was going to pick up his snail mail, and later on he’d use Chris’ computer to check his email. Maybe JD and Ezra blamed him, or thought less of him because of what’d happened, but if that was the worst thing he had to face in his life from now on, Vin knew he could live with it. The driveway stretched about thirty yards from house to road, paved with blacktop, and Vin easily rolled two garbage cans at once. The newspaper stuck half out of its faded orange holder, and Vin pulled it out before heading back for the third garbage can. Not quite halfway back, he heard the roar of a motor being revved too fast, and a late model muscle car raced down the quiet rural road.
As it flashed past him, Vin thought he saw three teenage boys.
He froze where he stood, and the newspaper slipped from his hand.
Them. God, it was them.
+ + + + + + +
Coming out of the garage lugging the plastic tub of recycling, Mary heard the car and knew it was the reckless boy from down the road, trying to impress his idiot friends or latest squeeze. More than once in the past, and more than likely in the future, Chris’d called the police on him for stunts like this. She assumed that was why the delinquent made a point of squealing past their house whenever possible.
But she saw the effect it had on Vin. Hands clenched into fists and arms stiff at his sides, his breath came in tight gasps. He was terrified. The thought hit her to wonder if ...but surely Vin would’ve described his attacker to Chris, and if it was the boy down the road – she had no doubt that he would be dead by now.
So, Mary knew that she knew , but she also knew that she didn’t know everything .
She walked down to Vin, and stopped as she came even with him, her voice reflecting an ease that she didn’t feel. “Cowboy must be sleeping off his dessert, - I’m surprised he didn’t come around when he heard the garage door open...” Vin turned to her, and she could see that he had no idea what she’d said, or maybe even that she’d said anything at all. She went on as though confident of his undivided attention.
“I think we should have dinner out on the deck again. That is if we can wake Chris up at all. Otherwise, it’ll just be you and me.” She saw the flash in his eyes that he was registering he’d been spoken to and needed to answer.
“Yeah...” The word tilted up at the end like a question.
“Why don’t you leave that last garbage can, until I empty the bathroom wastebaskets?”
Another few moments, while the wall of fear opened up to let in the familiar. “What? Oh – okay. I’ll just –“ he bent down to retrieve the paper. “I need to take a shower...”
THIRTY-THREE
Vin took himself up the stairs and into the guest room to hopefully find another set of clean clothes. He had to take a shower. It wasn’t going to help; he knew that without a doubt. Just as soon as he got dressed and stepped out of Chris’ bathroom, he’d feel just as dirty as he had lying on the floor of his own bathroom in all that blood and filth. Still, those brief few moments that he actually would feel clean were worth the trouble.He found clean clothes folded on the foot of the bed, he grabbed them and went into the bathroom. Just as he set them on the sink top and started to turn away, he got a look at himself in the long mirror. The fear he saw in his own eyes startled him, and dismayed him.
“You’re not a coward.” He said to his reflection. “You’ve never been a coward.” He sank down to sit on the edge of the tub and rested his head in his hands. He had to get a hold of this. He had to try and get his hands around what was going on, and start dealing with it. He’d made a start of it, just before. Just before that car went screeching down the road and made him think they had come after him.
They had scared him.
“Scared yourself y’idiot.” He corrected himself. “Get a grip...what’s going on? What’s going on right now?” He surveyed his surroundings. “Taking a shower – again.” He looked down at himself. “I’m not dirty. I feel dirty, but I’m not...” and he added in a whisper, “Chris said I’m not.”
He still had the overwhelming urge to take a shower, to feel clean if only briefly, but he shook his head to try and clear the thought. He stood up again, and winced at the pain in his right knee. Time to double his dose of painkillers. He grabbed the clean clothes off the sink, and opened the bathroom door. Down the hallway, rumbling and grumbling his way up the stairs, came Chris. His hair stood out at all angles, his wrinkled shirt hung twisted and half untucked, and his eyes and limbs were heavy and awkward with drug-induced exhaustion. As he neared the bathroom, Vin couldn’t help himself.
“Monster! Monster!” he chirped in his best imitation of a frightened child. It stopped Chris in his tracks for a moment, but he only glowered at Vin, and kept on to stand in front of him.
“I’ll flip you for the shower.” He offered. Vin shrugged and moved out of the doorway.
“Knowing you, you’d probably drop me. All yours. I’m gonna go rest these old bones.”
“Thanks…” Chris said, though the word was barely slurred out.
“Trust me, you’re doing me the favor…” Vin tossed his clothes back onto the foot of the bed, and then waited until Chris had gotten his own clean clothes and found his way into the bathroom, before heading downstairs.
“Mary? You need help with anything?” he asked around the kitchen door to where Mary was washing vegetables at the sink. “Otherwise, think I might dose myself up and sit for awhile. Sleeping Beauty needed the shower more’n I did.”
“Oh, no Vin. Thank you. Everything’s all set. Here –“ She dried her hands on the dishtowel and reached up into the cupboard for a glass. “There’s a gallon of water in the fridge to take your pills.” She smiled at him, and sounded perfectly natural, but he pretty well figured she was surprised he wasn’t the one in the shower right now. He nodded his thanks and filled the glass to take the painkillers. “You let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks Mary. Reckon I’m good for the while…” Vin said. She took the glass back from him to put in the sink and he went into the family room to deposit himself carefully back into the recliner. He set one pillow under his right knee, one behind his back, and the third he tucked in at his shoulder to rest his head against.
For all the sleep he’d done so far already today, Vin could feel the weariness tugging behind his eyelids. It’d be worse once the painkillers kicked in. He thought about asking Mary to wake him up for dinner if he fell asleep, but calling out to her would require more energy than he had in reserve. So, figuring he’d eat when he ate, he closed his eyes and turned his face into the softness of the pillow.
A few minutes later, he was gone.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra walked out of Butler Hall to find JD waiting for him under an ancient oak tree on the edge of the University Green. “Did you tell him?” JD asked as he fell into step beside Ezra. Though Standish had a reasonable idea what was being referred to, he feigned ignorance.
“Tell what, and to whom?”
“You know – about Vin!” JD exclaimed, and then abruptly lowered his voice, casting his eyes around them to see if anyone had heard. “Didn’t you tell the Dean what happened to Vin?” Ezra held back a sigh. He was in no humor to be discussing this. He would never be in a humor to discuss it.
“No, Mr. Dunne. I have not enlightened Judge Travis as to the currently sorry state of Mr. Tanner.”
“You didn’t?” JD was clearly surprised. “Boy, I thought you’d tell him first thing.”
This made Ezra stop and turn toward JD. “Mr. Dunne, I would no more impart that information to Judge Travis than I would feel compelled to relate to him the evening young Miss Wells found you in one of the bays of the Maintenance garage with that young woman who claimed she was applying for a job in Security.”
“I – we – she – I didn’t – she wanted but I -“ Annoyed with tripping over his own list of excuses, JD demanded: “What has that go to do with anything Ezra?”
Now Ezra released the sigh, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t want your old flames and new peccadilloes paraded before a cast of thousands, or even dozens. No more would Mr. Tanner wish his private…dealings… to be publicized to people so wholly unconnected to the matter.” With that, Ezra resumed walking across the Green, purposely increasing his pace in an attempt to flee both JD and the topic of conversation. But JD kept up.
“But – Ezra – you mean – what you said – you think –“ he finally grabbed Ezra’s arm to make him stop walking “You mean you think Vin wanted it?” Standish turned a very puzzled look on him.
“Mr. Dunne, you yourself have expressed a sincere and unshakeable belief that Mr. Tanner let’ himself be attacked. I see no difference in what you feel happened, and what I feel happened.” When a few shocked seconds passed and JD was unable to answer, Ezra headed for his car one more time.
One more time, JD caught up with him. “No, Ezra! What I meant was – I mean I don’t think he – it’s just that I never –“ But Ezra had had enough and snapped:
“JD! Unless you are able to speak in complete sentences, will you please just leave me alone?”
JD stopped dead and could only stare in surprise at the quickly retreating form of Ezra Standish.
+ + + + + + +
Chris’ arms and legs flatly refused to cooperate as he tried to get dressed after his shower. Three times his arm missed the sleeve into his shirt. Twice he had to rest his hand on the tile wall to keep his balance. Apparently his fingers had lost the strength necessary to button the button on his jeans, and tucking his shirt in was entirely out of the question.
So, he gave up and wobbled his way back down the hallway, which now seemed to flicker before his eyes. The only option was to close his eyes and feel his way down the staircase, until he was back on solid footing in the downstairs front hallway. He felt a little steadier there, and walked through the family room toward the kitchen. He saw Vin comfortably folded into the recliner, and went in search of his wife.
He found her at the stove, taking dinner out of the oven. Standing behind her, Chris wrapped his arms around her and leaned heavily against her, resting his head on her shoulder.
“Honey, if you’ve got something particular on your mind, let me shut the oven door.”
“Nothing particular.” He breathed out. “Just tired and wanna rest here…”
“Okay honey, you rest there.” She patted the hands that were locked in front of her, and turned her head to lay a kiss on the damp hair that tickled her ear.
“Vin okay?” Chris asked. “Think he was gonna take a shower, he let me have it instead.”
“He’s okay honey…” Mary decided not to tell Chris about the idiot teenager’s latest antics until he felt better. “He helped me take out the trash, and insisted on helping me clean up the mess you guys left in the kitchen.”
Chris lifted his head and peered at her curiously.
“What mess?”
THIRTY-FOUR
Buck picked through the keys on Vin's key ring until he found one that looked like it would fit the narrow mailbox in the front hallway of the apartment building. Two days worth of mail amounted to a cable bill, a Wal-Mart ad, a neighborhood flyer about the now-defunct street festival, and a postcard reminder from a veterinarian sent to the previous occupant of the apartment that it was time for their cat to get her yearly checkup.Tucking the small bundle into his shirt pocket, he went up to have a quick look through the apartment. He tested the door first; checking that the new lock actually held, then let himself inside. An eerie tingle ran down his spine, the way it always did anytime he had to go back to a crime scene after the initial investigation and mop up. Too quiet, the place was too quiet. It had the same dull, shocked appearance that Vin'd had this morning at breakfast, like a thing frightened, holding absolutely still, desperate not to be discovered.
At his feet, on the carpet, Buck found a homemade envelope that'd obviously been shoved under the door. Vin's name was written in a curlicue style, and surrounded by stickers of happy faces and kittens. "Maria." Buck smiled to himself and picked up the overstuffed letter to slide into his pocket with the others. Nothing seemed out of place in the apartment. The smell of cleanser and vinyl still hung in the air, but Buck thought he would always smell the blood, always see the stark, gruesome handprints on the bathroom wall. He wondered if Vin would ever be able to live here again. If the same thing had happened to him, Buck didn't think he could.
There didn't seem to be anything that needed doing in the silent rooms, so he let himself out again, locked all the locks behind, and headed back to his truck. He'd managed to find a parking spot in front of the building, and as he got to the foot of the staircase, he met Nettie coming through the glass doors.
They both froze.
Buck knew that Vin cared about Nettie like family, and he always thought Nettie shared the sentiment, but after JD's remarks that Nettie thought it'd be better to die than be raped, Buck wasn't feeling too friendly toward her at the moment.
"How is he?" Nettie asked. Even though Buck could hear the genuine concern in her voice, he wasn't about to let her go easy.
"He's at Chris' house. Call him if you want to find out." He saw her stiffen at the chill in his attitude.
"He there by himself?" She tried anyway. Buck wondered if she just didn't want to go through Larabee to get to Vin, or if she was concerned that Vin might've spent the day alone.
"I took him out to breakfast, and Chris took the day off to be with him..." No sense pussyfooting around the unspoken awkwardness. "I know you know what happened to him, Nettie. I know you told Casey you'd rather she died than let it happen to her. I haven't known you very long, and I know Vin puts a world of admiration on you - but let me tell you one thing, just so we're clear on it from here on out." Buck didn't make it a practice of speaking so bluntly to a lady, and he had to set his heart and his spine specifically to the task.
"Vin's making his way through hell right now, and he doesn't need anybody - and I DO mean anybody - adding to the burden he's already shouldering. He's one of the best friends I've got and I'll do anything - and I DO mean anything - to keep him safe and sane. You're entitled to your beliefs Nettie - as asinine as they are - but you even so much as once tell Vin he'd be better off dead and so help me -"
"You just hold it right there!" Nettie interrupted him. "How dare you talk to me like that!"
"I'll talk to you anyway I see fit!" Buck started to yell, then - worried that they'd be overheard - he dropped his voice to an angry whisper. "He's got enough to worry about without worrying every time he sees you that you'd rather he was dead. How dare I? How dare you? How dare you even think such a thing?"
"I do NOT wish he was dead!" Nettie insisted. "I just said - I just thought..." her voice trailed off, and Buck hoped she'd hang herself. "He didn't die, so that's all right..." she offered. Buck gave a sarcastic huff.
"Well be still my heart. 'Hey Vin - good news. Nettie says it's okay they didn't kill you...'" It was an unaccustomed feeling to Buck to be so angry at a woman; the depth of it worried him and he decided he had to get out of there before it got the best of him. "I'll be sure to convey your regards." He snapped. He pushed past her and headed for his truck. She followed him out.
"Buck - wait - please."
He turned then, hand on his door handle, and waited for her to come to the truck.
"How is he?" she asked again. Buck stared at her a moment, weighing the responses he might give her. The ones first to his tongue were sarcastic, but he got an idea that wasn't the way to go.
"He's scared Nettie." He kept his voice soft and low. "He's hurt and he's scared. You know they fractured his spine? Nearly fractured his skull? He's got stitches in his scalp, and bruises over near every inch of him. Deep bruises, a lot of them broke blood vessels, especially on his legs." Buck repeated what Vin had told him this morning at breakfast. "He can't hardly stand up straight, but he does it anyway 'cause he doesn't want to be any trouble to anybody. He's not scared of those bastards coming back after him Nettie - he's scared of people thinking he wanted it or he deserved it, people thinking he didn't fight hard enough." Buck opened his door and got into the truck as he gave Nettie his parting shot. "He's scared of people like you."
+ + + + + + +
Tucked into the recliner, resting against pillows, covered with a blanket, safe and warm - Vin began to dream. Suddenly finding himself at St. Michael’s University, familiar buildings swayed and melted in an unfamiliar atmosphere. Vin needed to get back to his apartment. Somehow, trapped on the University Green, somehow he knew if he could just cross the sidewalk, he'd be back in his apartment. There, he saw it, up ahead. His front door, shimmerig just out of reach. Feeling as though his whole body was filled with liquid lead, Vin dragged himself toward the door and safety. Finally getting his hand on the knob, he felt someone grab his shoulder and a leering voice started to speak.
"You gonna eat dinner?"
With a shocked gasp, Vin jolted awake - to find Cowboy, paws on the arm of the chair, staring down at him. Vin would almost swear the dog looked concerned.
"Cowboy?" he asked. The dog wagged his tale and slobbered a wet lick across Vin’s cheek.
"Did you just call me cowboy?" Vin heard a voice somewhere above and behind him. Pressing one hand against the dog to keep his ribs safe, he turned his head to see Chris off his left shoulder. He looked a whole lot better than the last time Vin laid eyes on him.
"Thought the dog took up talkin’..." he said.
"You got drugs you haven’t told me about?" Chris asked. He took a few steps to come into Vin’s line of sight, and lightly swatted Cowboy off the chair. "Dinner’s ready - wind’s starting to kick up outside though, so we’re eating in the kitchen."
"Okay..." Vin surveyed his situation. "Give me a hand up?" He asked it quietly, seriously.
"Sure." Chris took the blankets and pillows as Vin handed them over and set them on the couch. He waited for Vin to pull the lever folding the recliner back upright, then put a hand under his elbow to help him stand. "Getting old?"
Without missing a beat, Vin answered "Must be - I got olllld friends..." He stifled a gasp as he pulled himself upright.
"Yeah, but Buck isn’t here yet." Chris said it lightly, but he didn’t take his eyes off Vin. "And I’m in my prime..." He said it facetiously, giving Vin the chance to groan both in jest and in earnest as he finished straightening up.
"You’re not only old - you’re senile..." Vin looked around the room, like he’d forgotten something.
"What is it?" Chris asked.
"I don’t know - felt like - I think I was having a bad dream when you woke me up. Stuck at work - trying to get back home. Somebody tried to grab me..." He looked around again. "Was just a dream though, hunh?"
"You’re bound to get ‘em."
"Yeah...not looking forward to it..." Vin looked down at himself, tugging at the shirts he wore and brushing at nothing on the front of them. God - he wanted to take a shower so bad. "Might wash up before dinner first, I think."
"You can wash your hands at the kitchen sink." Chris said, and Vin considered it.
"Yeah..." he turned his steps toward the kitchen, shuffling the first few steps until his body loosened up enough to walk. Chris shadowed behind him. Just a few steps from the kitchen doorway, Cowboy’s ears pricked up at a sound only he could hear, and he took off roaring toward the back door to the garage.
Vin froze at the sound and movement. He felt his heart pound against his chest, and sweat stung his skin. Them - he tried not to think it. ~themthemthemthem~ He spun where he stood and nearly bumped into Chris. "I - I - I need to take a shower."
"No you don’t." Chris answered patiently. "You had a shower this morning."
"I do - I have to take a shower. I have to get clean. Please Chris?"
"No..." Chris had to try hard to not be moved by the plea in Vin’s voice. "C’mere." He gently took Vin’s arm and guided him back into the family room, so they could talk privately, as he heard Buck calling to Cowboy as he came into the house. "Vin - c’mon, we talked about this..." Chris had to bend down to try to meet Vin’s eyes, but Tanner wouldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on his stocking feet, and crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "You’re not dirty."
"I feel dirty."
"And I feel eighteen - flip you for it..." Chris was almost desperate when Vin didn’t answer. "...or are you afraid I’ll drop you...?"
"Feel like I’m going crazy Chris." Vin said softly. "One minute everything feels fine, next minute everything’s coming apart. I can’t keep track of it all. There’s no center, nothing to hold onto..."
Chris put his hands on Vin’s shoulders and said his name to make him look up. He could feel him trembling under his hands. "There is something to hold onto Vin. I won’t let you come apart. Okay?"
Vin nodded. "Okay."
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