Part 1
I have often dreamed of a far off place
Where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me
Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face
And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be. . .
---from Hercules
"How many times have you killed people in your line of work, Agent Tanner?"
Vin paused for a moment, then leaned forward to speak softly into the microphone. "Four."
The attorney nodded and consulted her notes. "Four. Do you remember their names?"
"Objection, irrelevant."
"Withdrawn."
"Are you aware, Agent Tanner, statistics show that very few agents are required to even draw their gun in the line of duty?"
"Uh huh."
"Agent Tanner?"
"Yes."
"Are you aware---"
"Yes."
The attorney rifled through paperwork at the prosecutor's table. The Grand Jury shifted in their seats. Vin had been through this before. Every time a suspect was killed while agents attempted to take him into custody, a grand jury was seated and the case reviewed. Still, that didn't make this one any easier to take.
"And you, unlike other agents, have killed four people in the line of duty."
"Yes ma'am."
"And why do you think that is, Agent Tanner?"
Vin pressed the small of his back into the black leather chair he was trapped in. He ached from being in this courtroom all day. It was dark and quiet and hot. He looked over at the union rep briefly and paused, waiting for him to object.
"Agent Tanner, will you answer the question?"
"I'm . . . good at what I do?"
"Is that a answer, or a question?"
"I'm a good shot."
"Good. Good at what you do. At killing people. That is what you do, isn't it, Agent Tanner?"
"I help---"
"You kill people."
"Sometimes."
"Four times."
Vin leaned back into the depth of the chair, away from the microphone, to ease a tired sigh from his heart. He fixed his eyes on the flag that hung motionless beside the exit door and waited for the next question.
+ + + + + + +
"Vin called yet?"
"Nope. And Chris, just so's you know, we'll tell you when he does." Buck shot a grin around the office at the other agents. Chris had asked that question once too often today. Buck had dropped Vin off at the courthouse that morning. Parking was always a problem, and, as Chris put it, he wanted someone else to blame if Vin was late. Vin was supposed to call when his testimony was over, but Chris knew it was late enough that they should be wrapping it up for the day, and he still hadn't heard anything from the courthouse.
"I think I'll head over there. When he calls, tell him to watch for me out front."
Ezra swung his chair away from the computer screen he was working on to watch Chris pull on a coat and gloves.
"Do you think the grand jury will be done today?"
"Well, I thought so, but if they're still hearing testimony, maybe it'll go another day." Chris shrugged, and Ezra nodded. "I give you boys a call if Vin's done testifying, and we can go get a drink. If he's not, the last thing he needs is a hangover in Doyle's courtroom. Prosecutor Campbell's out for blood on this already."
+ + + + + + +
Chris pulled out of the parking garage into the bitter Denver cold. Even in the rapidly warming Ram, he shivered. There was no new snow today, hell, it was too cold to snow, but there was an icy wind and bitter wind chills. It matched his mood. He hated the grand jury inquisitions. He knew they were neccessary, but Vin's skill had landed him in the hot seat too often. All of Vin's shoots were 'good' ones, but that didn't stop the grand jury prosecutors from raising all sorts of painful questions. And none of the men could be present when the others were testifying, which left his men without support in a difficult time. He didn't have a lot of confidence in the city's attorneys or the union representative, either. He drove on through the five o'clock traffic toward the courthouse.
+ + + + + + +
"When you fired, Agent Tanner, what were you aiming for?"
"The head."
"His head. Jeremy Gregg's head."
"Yes."
"Do you think you could have reacted any differently?"
"Differently?"
"Yes. Shot him in the arm? Knocked him down, injured him?"
"We're taught at the police academy that if deadly force is required that we're s'posed shoot to kill."
"Yes."
"And he was wearing a vest."
"You knew that?"
"I suspected."
"How many times have you killed people, Agent Tanner?"
"Objection. Already answered."
"No. He answered how many times he has killed in the line of duty."
The judge nodded and paused. Was the judge waiting for the city attorney to object, Vin wondered? There was no objection forthcoming.
"Sustained."
"How many times, Agent Tanner?"
"Four."
"Four," she repeated. "What about the man you beat to death in Texas, Agent Tanner. Doesn't he count?"
A cold chill of fear ran down Vin's back as he stared at her, silent. A rush of murmurs ran through the courtroom.
"David Hewlett. Do you remember David Hewlett?"
Vin nodded.
"I can't hear you, Agent Tanner."
"Yes."
The city attorneys were conferring furiously, shuffling papers and looking at Vin in surprise.
"That was in juvenile court."
The prosecutor ignored his statement. Vin turned to look at Judge Doyle.
"That was in juvenile court," he repeated. The judge did not respond.
"Objection!" The union attorney finally spoke up.
"Withdrawn. Had you ever seen Jeremy Gregg before November 14, 1999?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"We knew each other in Texas. A long time ago."
"In fact, you were in a foster care facility together, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Had you had problems with Jeremy Gregg in Texas?"
"We didn't get along. We fought a lot."
"So you evened up the score, didn't you?"
"Objection!"
"Withdrawn."
The judge looked at his watch and sighed. "Are you about done, Mrs. Campbell? It's almost four thirty."
"I'm not done, sir, but we can stop now, if you'd like and pick up on this tomorrow."
The judge dismissed the witness and turned back to the courtroom.
"Yes. I remind you all not to discuss this case amongst yourselves, no comments to the press, and we will re-convene at nine am in courtroom number 5."
Vin shouldered past the attorneys and the questioning looks. Soon after the judge left the courtroom, the attorneys were arguing about the line of questioning. Vin strode down the marble hallways, through the revolving door and out into the cold Denver winter. He hurried down the steps outside, tucking his head into his blazer, wishing briefly he had picked up his coat from his chair and considering, only for a moment, returning for it. Then he disappeared into the crowd of fleeing commuters heading home for the evening.
Part 2
I'll be there someday; I can go the distance
I will find my way if I can be strong
I know every mile will be worth my while
When I go the distance I'll be right where I belong ...
Chris was only a block away from the courthouse when the cell phone buzzed.
"Larabee."
"Chris, Langen's office just called. Something happened in court today. Something about a juvenile court record on Vin. They want you to come up to their office when you get there, and bring Vin if you find him."
"Isn't he with them?"
"No, he left the courtroom when Doyle dismissed for the day."
"Ok." Chris hit end and shoved the phone back in his pocket. "Shit."
He pulled up outside the courthouse and parked in the loading zone. He scanned the area briefly, but it was too damn cold to stand out there looking for someone who should be inside waiting for him. He hurried up the steps, past the dwindling stream of people going home for the night, rode the escalator to Two, and stalked into the city attorney's office.
"Mr Larabee, Pat wants to see you in his office." A dark haired secretary pointed down the hall.
"What happened in court?"
"Pat better tell you that. Is Vin here?"
"No."
"You'll need to find him."
Chris nodded. What the hell was going on? He went on down the short hall and stepped into City Attorney Pat Langen's office. Langen looked up and sighed gratefully.
"Glad you're here. Did you find Tanner?"
"Didn't know he was missing."
"He's not, technically. I need to talk to him before court tomorrow at nine. Did you know about his juvenile record?"
Chris shook his head. "Juvenile records are sealed."
"Supposed to be. Campbell introduced information about Vin's juvenile record. Apparently, he beat a guy to death when he was fifteen. Campbell is alleging it shows pattern, violent history, yada yada yada."
"That shouldn't be allowed in court."
"I know. We can get it stricken, that's not a problem, but the jury heard it. You can't un-hear it, and it'll place that thought in their heads."
"What did Vin say?"
"He didn't deny it. Just left when Doyle dismissed."
"Shit. I never heard anything about this before."
"Well, I need to hear about it now, so I can figure out what we're going to do. I think the union rep may jump ship on this one. Just find Vin and call me so we can get together on it. I'll be here for another hour or so, then call me at home after that."
"Ok."
Walking back up the short hallway, he was met by the same secretary, who handed him Vin's coat.
"He left it in the courtroom."
"Where the hell would he go without a coat?"
She shrugged.
"Thanks."
He hurried back downstairs to the Ram, checking the quiet halls on his way down. Downtown, maybe. There was a small mall not far downtown, maybe Vin went there to get lost in the crowd. He really didn't have any other ideas. It was just too damn cold outside to walk far, even for Vin.
+ + + + + + +
Vin was sitting on a bench near the entrance of the mall, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His chin was still tucked inside the collar of his blazer, his tie pulled loose and draped around his neck. When Chris came up and dropped onto the bench beside him, he gave no acknowlegement. Chris sat silently, waiting. After what seemed like hours, but could only have been minutes, Vin spoke softly.
"So, is it over?"
"The grand jury? No. Langen needs---"
"No, not that. The team. Am I off the team?"
"Why?"
"Didn't Langen tell you?"
"He didn't tell me much. He's waiting to hear from you."
Another long pause. "I was gonna tell you."
"Tell me?"
"I was gonna tell you a long time ago. About Texas. Then I guess I just . . . it was easier to not think about it."
"Yeah, I know the feeling."
Vin turned his head to look Chris in the eye. Then he pulled his long legs up under the bench and leaned his head down on his hands resting on his knees.
"I was fifteen. Got in a fistfight with this kid at school. Dave Hewlett. We were both hotheads. I can't even remember what the fight was about, now. I punched him and he fell backwards and hit his head on some concrete steps. He died three days later without ever comin' around. I got charged with murder---"
"Murder?!"
"I got charged with murder as an adult. My foster dad really went to the wall for me, got me a good attorney who got it transferred to juvenile court and the charge was reduced."
"To?"
"Involuntary manslaughter. I got remanded to state custody until I turned eighteen."
Chris leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Shit."
"Yeah."
"We gotta go talk to Langen."
"Yeah."
Chris handed Vin the coat he'd left in the courtroom so long ago, and they rose to blend in with the shoppers leaving the mall.
+ + + + + + +
They were in Langen's office late into the night. Langen thought it better they faced the jury with the truth about what happened when Vin was fifteen, rather than let them think the worst. That meant Vin would have to go through the whole thing again, tomorrow.
Chris had just ended a call with Buck when he pulled up outside Vin's apartment in Purgatory.
"Josiah will pick you up---shit!" Chris spotted the three press vehicles parked in front of the apartment building. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, then drove on past the building."So much for gag orders."
"Big news, huh?"
Chris glanced over at the softly spoken words and really looked at the man beside him. Vin was slumped down in the seat, head cocked just slightly away from the window, but not looking over at Chris, either. He looked like he was in shock. Shellshocked, Chris thought, he looks shellshocked.
"We'll go to Ezra's. You need a clean suit for tomorrow anyway."
Vin didn't respond.
"You need to get out of Purgatory, Vin, get a new apartment. You don't belong there."
Vin laughed. "Yeah, I do. As much as anyone belongs in Purgatory. That's it, Chris, you just don't get it. No one belongs in Purgatory."
This time it was Chris's turn to fall silent.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra was surprised when he answered the bell, but he recovered well, silently stepping aside and motioning Vin into the townhouse.
"See you in the morning, Ezra. Court starts at nine, oughta be there by a little after eight. He needs a clean suit."
Ezra nodded and closed the door behind Chris's retreating form. Vin flopped down into a chair in the dark living room.
"Bet you're thrilled, huh?"
"You are always welcome here, Mr Tanner."
"Yeah."
Ezra disappeared down the hall and returned with a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and a blanket.
"Geez, Ez, didn't know you even owned a pair of sweat pants."
"There is a lot you don't know about me."
"Well, I guess we're even there."
Part 3
I am on the road to embrace my fate
Though that road may wander it will lead me to you
A thousand years would be worth the wait
It might take a lifetime but somehow I'll see it through . . .
The next morning they drove silently through the downtown traffic towards the courthouse. Vin hadn't said but a few words all night, and Ezra had awoken to find him still sitting in the same chair, staring at the television, watching Blue's Clues on Nickelodeon. He'd risen and dressed compliantly in the clothes Ezra provided, and Ezra himself was impressed by the transformation.
"Brionni does wonders for you, Mr Tanner."
Still no response. When he approached the courthouse, press vehicles filled the loading zone in front of the building, and Ezra, as Chris had done the night before, drove on. Suddenly, Vin sat up and turned to him.
"You have a passport, don't you Ezra?"
"Yes, of course, why?"
"Just wonderin'."
Ezra drove around the building to the to the west end, which was the county jail holding facility. He pulled into the security garage there. Flashing his badge, the guard let him through the gate. The question about the passport suddenly hit him.
"Mr Tanner, surely you don't intend on going anywhere?"
"I ain't intendin' on goin' to prison."
"Mr Tanner, have confidence in the proceedings. And in yourself. It was a good shoot."
"You really think so?"
Ezra parked, pulled out the keys and turned to look Tanner in the eye. "I have absolutely no doubt, Mr Tanner, that it was a good shoot. There were no other options at the time. If you left, Vin, who would feed Cuervo?"
Vin frowned, remembering Cuervo's owner showing up after Christmas, wanting to know why his cat was wearing a tag from the ATF office.
"He's a prick."
"Who?"
"John. That guy that owns Cuervo. How was I supposed to know he had an owner? If I had a kid, I wouldn't let him live in no parking garage. He deserves better."
"A kid?"
"A cat. I meant a cat."
"You should have a cat, Mr Tanner."
"Purgatory ain't no place for a cat."
"Purgatory is not a place for anybody," Ezra shot back.
"You already talk to Chris this mornin'?"
Ezra nodded and smiled. "Come on, Mr Tanner, no more dilly dallying about. Mr Larabee left you in my custody to assure him that you would be in court on time. We don't want his wrath falling upon me any more than neccessary, do we?"
"Nope, I reckon not."
+ + + + + + +
It was a long and ugly day in court. Langen introduced Vin's juvenile record and reviewed the case thoroughly, and Campbell followed up with pointed questions inferring the worst. After every recess, Vin came out into the hall to find another member of the team had joined Ezra on the bench in the marble hallway. When Vin came out the double doors, the other men made an effective shield against the press corp. Finally, around three pm, the jury retired for deliberation and Vin was free to go while awaiting their decision on whether or not to prosecute.
"Meet at the saloon?"
A round of agreement passed between the men, while Chris passed his cell number to Langen, and the team dispersed to their cars. Ezra and Vin walked through the jail facility and into the parking garage.
"Do you feel it went well, Mr Tanner?"
Vin shrugged. "Never can tell. I don't wanna think about it."
Ezra nodded. "Either way, you have the rest of the team behind you. And remember, a decision to prosecute does not mean a guilty verdict."
Vin raised his head. "Thanks, Ezra." He rested his arms on the top of the Jag and stood there looking at the other agent. "Even with a good shoot, you think Travis will let me stay on the team?"
Ezra rested his own arms across the roof in an uncharacteristcally casual move. He sighed. "That's all that matters, isn't it Vin? The team?"
"Uh huh. It's all that's ever mattered."
"Again, we have something in common. Mr Larabee had a rather heated conversation about you with someone today in the halls of justice. And, suffice to say that if you are not on the team, there will not be a team. And so, I do believe your job is a safe one."
Vin paused a moment to let that sink in.
"I never had anyone really back me up before. My foster dad, I guess, in Texas, the one who hired the lawyer. I never even knew to thank him at the time." Vin reached for the doorhandle.
"Yes, well, someone has to feed the damn cat."
+ + + + + + +
The team passed an uncomfortable and usually quiet evening in the saloon, and when no word came by six o'clock, they ordered some hamburgers and called it a night. Vin went back to Ezra's; Chris told him although, technically, he was suspended with pay pending the Grand Jury's decision, he was welcome to wait in the team office tomorrow. He slept fitfully, and again, the office was uncomfortably silent the next day. Every time the phone rang, eyes roved through the room until the call they all waited for finally came. After a short conversation, Chris hung up the phone and turned to his men.
"Jury is having a press conference soon as we can get there to announce their decision. Let's ride."
"No." Vin's soft voice was loud enough to be heard even in the hustle of his friends grabbing their coats to go. "No. Call'em back. Tell 'em I ain't coming. They can announce right away, I'd just as soon hear it here."
Chris bit his lip, and picked up the phone. Again, they waited. When the decision came, it was anticlimactic. A boring announcement on the noon news on KOKN saying there was no wrongdoing in the death of a suspect during a nondescript ATF bust; the news went on to report the latest traffic fatality while the room erupted in a chorus of cheers. Vin sank down on the back of Josiah's desk, staring at the TV screen. He looks shellshocked again, thought Chris. Slowly, a small smile spread across Vin's face and he began to breath deeply.
"Spread out, everybody, spread the word the Magnificent Seven is seven again," Chris ordered, to clear out the office so that Vin could let it sink in. Soon, only Ezra, Chris and Vin remained. Chris handed him a scrap of paper with a phone number on it.
"What's this?"
"Thought you might want to call your old foster dad, and thank him for what he did for you."
Vin nodded. Ezra rose, pulled something from his pocket and came to stand beside Vin.
"Guess you won't be needing this anymore, either." He extended his hand holding a black leather case. "Unless you're planning on joining me in Paris, to meet Mother over Thanksgiving. In which case, you'd better pack a black suit, because I would imagine that you and Paris and my mother would cause her to have a heart attack."
Vin took the wallet. It was a passport, with a false identity and Vin's picture.
"No, Ezra, don't think I'll be needin' it."
Then he turned around, picked up the phone and began to dial.
The End
