A/N: I'm way behind on responding to feedback--please forgive me! I appreciate each and every comment more than I can say. Here's the last part--it's a long one!
Worth It (4/4)
By Dawnsunrise
Buck met him at the door, a distinctly wary expression on his face. "Didn't expect to see you so soon. Thought we had an understanding."
"Yeah, well." Chris scratched the back of his neck. "You might say Ezra helped with the...extraction."
Buck stared at him for a moment before barking a startled laugh. "You don't say. Guess I owe ol' Ez a bottle for that one." He moved aside and waved Chris through the door.
Stepping inside, Chris blinked a little as his eyes adjusted to the dimness after bright winter sunshine. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and he heard the faint popping of gunfire from the den.
He raised an eyebrow. "Video games?"
"J.D.'s idea." Buck chuckled and shook his head. "Kid knows the only time he can beat Vin is when he's stoned on pain meds."
Rather than sharing Buck's amusement, guilt twisted Chris's stomach. "Did Nathan check him over? He bust any stitches?"
"Everything's okay; he's just hurtin'." Buck's gaze was sharp. "More ways 'n one."
Chris sagged against the door jamb. "Hoping I'll be able to do something about that."
"That'd be good." Buck hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. "Coffee? Or should I be offerin' you something stronger?"
"I'm good, thanks."
Squaring his shoulders, Chris headed down the hallway to the den. When he got to the doorway, he paused, Buck's solid presence at his back. J.D. sat hunched forward in an armchair, eyes glued to the TV and thumbs tapping a furious beat to match the gunfire onscreen. Across the room Vin lay sprawled on the oversized couch, eyes shut and lips slightly parted, a controller dangling from one hand.
His chest tight, Chris walked over and stared down at his slumbering friend for a long moment before carefully removing the device from limp, unresisting fingers. Pulling a blanket from the back of the couch, he spread it over Vin, who furrowed his brow, shifted restlessly, and then settled, his breathing falling back into the steady pattern of deep sleep
The television fell silent, and when Chris turned J.D. was standing beside Buck, his expression closed. Chris sighed inwardly. It seemed he had more fences to mend, but for now, Vin came first.
"How long has he been out?" he asked.
J.D. shrugged. "Half an hour or so."
Chris glanced over his shoulder, troubled by the fact that Vin, the guy with hair-trigger reflexes, hadn't even twitched--first when touched and now at the sound of Chris's voice. "He's awful far under, isn't he?"
"No big surprise. He had to take two pain pills." The accusation in J.D.'s voice was clear.
Chris chose to ignore it. Hell, he'd beaten himself up, Ezra had twisted the knife, and even Buck had taken his shot. Might as well let J.D. get his licks in too.
"How about you boys take a drive out to the ranch." He removed the house key from his key ring and tossed it to Buck. "Game's on tonight. The TV's all yours, and you can help yourself to whatever's in the fridge."
Buck neatly fielded the throw. "Uh...don't know if you've noticed, Stud, but it ain't even two o'clock."
"Was hoping you'd take care of the horses. Since you'll already be out there." Chris watched them both process the fact that he was essentially kicking them out of their own home: Buck equal parts irritated and amused; J.D. just bewildered. "I'd consider it a favor," he added quietly, standing firm under the weight of Buck's assessing gaze.
Buck fingered the key. "You'd better have plenty of beer--the good stuff, not that microbrewery crap."
"Just stocked up."
Buck hesitated a moment longer, then nudged J.D. "Let's go, kid."
To Chris's surprise, J.D. planted his feet. "Wait a minute. We're gonna leave? Just like that?"
"That's the idea," Buck replied. "Somethin' wrong?"
"Hell, yeah, there's something wrong!" J.D. waved an arm at Chris, scowling. "I don't see why we're leaving him here alone. How do we know won't lose his temper again and get Vin all riled up, or even hurt?"
"Now just hold your horses, J.D." Buck gave Chris the same look you'd give a bomb set to go off any minute. "You got no call to--"
"Yes, he does." Chris stepped closer, proud as hell of the way J.D. held his ground despite looking a little white around the eyes. "You know because I give you my word. Beyond that... You'll just have to trust me."
J.D. licked his lips and nodded. "Guess I can do that." His voice cracked a little, and he ducked his head. "Chris, I--"
"Got nothing to apologize for," Chris said, cutting him off. "You're a good friend, J.D."
"And damn lucky." Buck grabbed him by the neck and steered him from the room, muttering the whole way. "What the hell got into you? Didn't your mama ever teach you 'bout pokin' sticks at a bear? Next time--" The front door slammed, cutting him off mid-stream.
Chris cringed, but Vin slept on, oblivious.
With a sigh, Chris turned back toward the kitchen. Maybe he could use a hit of caffeine after all.
He'd been sitting at the kitchen table for about a half an hour, nursing a cup of coffee and paging through one of J.D.'s gaming magazines, when he heard the bathroom fan kick on, followed by retching.
"Shit." Chris shoved back his chair and dashed down the hallway.
Vin was kneeling on the tile, arms curled around toilet bowl, the smell of sickness thick in the air. Without stopping to think, Chris dropped beside him, pulling tangled curls from Vin's pale, sweaty face.
Another spasm wracked Vin's body, and he moaned, spat, and glared at Chris. "The hell're...you doin' here?"
"Keeping you from puking in your hair."
Vin screwed up his face to retort, but was hit with another bout of dry heaves. Chris gathered the hair into one hand and rubbed Vin's back with the other, wishing he could do more to relieve his friend's misery. When Vin's stomach finally settled, he sagged forward, pressing his forehead against his folded arms.
Chris grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser on the sink and filled it with water. "Here." When Vin cracked open an eye he handed him the cup. "Spit, don't swallow."
Vin took it with an unsteady hand. "I know the drill. Damn pain meds."
When he'd finished rinsing his mouth, Chris disposed of the cup, then offered Vin his hand. Though he looked as if a stiff breeze could knock him over, Vin rebuffed the offer of help and hauled himself to his feet.
Gritting his teeth, Chris resisted an instinctive grab for Vin's arm when his friend swayed. "You really are a stubborn sonuvabitch."
"You made yerself clear back at the hospital, Larabee." Vin walked slowly back to the couch, one hand skimming the wall. "Give it a rest."
Chris trailed behind, not touching but close enough to latch on if Vin started to fall. "You didn't let me finish."
"Heard enough." Vin stretched out on the couch and curled an arm over his eyes. "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on yer way out."
Damn, he was terrible at this stuff. When it became clear Vin intended to ignore him, Chris went to the kitchen and got a ginger ale from the fridge. He popped the top and set it on the coffee table, parking himself beside the can.
Vin peered from under his arm, mouth turning down when he saw Chris. Still, the lure of the soda proved too strong, just as Chris had hoped. With a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan, Vin pushed upright and reached for the can.
Chris leaned forward. "Look, Vin, I really--"
"I don't wanna fight anymore, Chris. Can we please just not do this?" The weary hurt in Vin's voice thickened his drawl.
"I'm not here to fight. I--" He caught hold of Vin's wrist, forcing his friend to meet his eyes. "Vin. I'm here to say I'm sorry."
An admission he wasn't used to making, not even with Sarah. Chris felt a stab of both shame and satisfaction when Vin blinked. "Never thought I'd hear those words comin' from your mouth."
"They don't come easy," he admitted. He scrubbed both hands over his face and sighed. "Hell, Vin, I just get done spouting off how you can count on us, on me, and then I turn around and--"
"Yeah." Vin looked away, his face blank. "Don't matter."
Chris frowned. "It sure as hell does."
Vin shook his head and laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. "You think that's the first time someone ain't lived up to their promise? It's a fact of life, Chris. One I learned a long time ago."
The cynicism cut deep, and for a moment Chris had trouble drawing breath. For the first time he began to truly comprehend what Ezra had been trying to tell him.
"Well, I'd appreciate it if you didn't write me off just yet," he said. "'Cause despite all that shit I was shoveling back at the hospital, I still intend to live up to my end of the deal."
Vin eyed him over the rim of the soda can. "Didn't sound like shit to me. Sounded like you were pretty damn pissed."
"Yeah. That's how I sound when someone I care about scares the crap out of me." When Vin's eyes widened, Chris nodded. "I was losing you, pard. I could hear it in your voice, you were fading fast, and I was so damn helpless. I was sure I wasn't going to get there soon enough."
"'M sorry." Vin rolled the can between his palms. "Things were kinda mixed up. Doc said it was a combination of the knock on the head, the cold, and the blood loss. The one thing I was clear on was that I had to call you. That you'd be able to help. I didn't think how it must've been from your end."
"Don't apologize." Chris caught himself, gentling the sharpness from his tone. "God, Cowboy, don't ever apologize for calling on me when you need help. You're my friend. I want to be there for you."
"So long as I do things your way." Vin looked away, jaw clenched. "Not interested in that kinda help, Chris. Too many strings attached."
Chris opened his mouth to protest, only to snap it shut. Wasn't that exactly what he'd wanted? For Vin to move to a better neighborhood, to stop hanging out with kids consumed by guns and drugs and violence. To stop caring so damn much about something that could get him killed.
It's that very idealism that goes a long way toward making our extraordinary friend the man he is.
"No."
The force behind the denial snapped Vin's head around, his gaze wide-eyed.
Chris shook his head, fumbling for the right words. "That's not what I want. I'd never expect you to stop being...who you are. I just... I need to understand, Vin. Please, just...help me understand."
Vin stared at him for a long moment--so long that Chris was certain he'd remain silent.Then he leaned forward and handed over the half-empty ginger ale. "Gonna need somethin' stronger than this."
With a raised eyebrow, Chris accepted the can. "You're on pain meds. Not to mention you just finished puking your guts up."
A twitch of his shoulder, and Vin's smile never reached his eyes. "Don't matter." When Chris hesitated, he sighed. "Only way I'm gonna get through this."
Chris's hands shook a little as he pulled the bottle from beneath the bar. A quick shot of his own and he passed Vin his glass with a steady grip. Vin knocked it back in one go, gesturing for Chris to join him on the couch.
"You already know I spent some time on the street." Vin tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling.
"Up until you joined the Army," Chris said. "Yeah, you've told me."
"What I didn't bother to fill you in on was exactly why I joined the Army." Vin rolled his head to the side, studying Chris. "Weren't like I had much choice."
Chris nodded. "Go on."
"I was only fourteen when I ran away from my last foster home. I ain't gonna talk about why I had to leave. You just gotta know things were bad."
"For a fourteen-year-old to run away to the city? Alone? I'd say they must have been pretty damn bad," Chris said quietly.
Vin flashed him a grateful look. "Found out real quick that things in the big city weren't much better, though. Not many jobs fer a kid my age, 'less you were willin' to turn tricks. And that was something I swore I'd never do. The few times I did manage to earn a little money, one of the bigger kids'd beat the shit outta me and take it. I was hungry most of the time; scared all the time."
Chris kept quiet--just leaned in until his shoulder brushed Vin's.
"And then the Vice Lords took me in. It was just dumb luck, really. I saw one of 'em rob a liquor store and kept my mouth shut when the cops questioned me about it. Guy who did it said he figured he owed me."
"So you joined the gang." Chris was careful to keep his tone free of judgment.
"Suddenly, I had a family, brothers who made sure I had plenty of food and a place to live, protection." Vin swallowed hard, emotion thick in his voice. "I never had anything like that, Chris, not even when it was just me and my ma."
"I'm sorry," Chris murmured.
Vin narrowed his eyes. "For what? That it turns out you got an ex-gang banger for a friend?"
"That being part of a gang was the closest thing you had to a real family," Chris said calmly. "I wish things could've been different. I wish I'd known you then."
With a snort, Vin shook his head. "Nah, you really don't. I lied, stole anything wasn't nailed down, fought, drank... Did drugs, but not the heavy stuff, mostly 'cause I didn't trust anyone that much to watch my back." He twisted his lips into a bitter smile. "Guess you could say I was a no-good little bastard."
How could he possibly answer that? Chris forced himself to meet Vin's sharp gaze. "What happened?"
To his surprise, Vin's smile transformed into something warm and genuine. "Nettie Wells happened. I used to hang around the YMCA, watch the martial arts classes until they kicked me out. Nettie was teachin' reading in a room nearby, and she just...latched on and wouldn't let go." He laughed softly. "Kept tellin' me if I'd just learn how to read I could get myself a real job, move to a better neighborhood, and I wouldn't need to figure out better ways to beat people up."
Chris snickered. "Sounds like Nettie."
The laughter faded from Vin's face. "She was the only one who saw me, Chris. Everyone else just took one look an' wrote me off as nothin' but trouble, a lost cause. But Nettie, she saw something better. No matter how much trouble I caused her--and hell, I caused plenty--she said I was worth it. After a while, I started to believe it could be true." Vin curled forward, propping his elbows on his knees despite the discomfort it must have caused his stitches. "Then it all went to hell."
Chris held his breath, Ezra's words echoing in his head: Some mistakes are inconsequential, but some...some are life-altering.
"It was so stupid. A dust up with the Bloods over turf. Started out with words, then turned ugly. When it was all over I was in jail and two kids...two kids were dead. One was a Blood, but the other, Ricky...he was a real good friend."
Chris licked his lips, carefully feeling his way. "Were you the one...?"
"Killed the guy? No. But I could've. I was there, and I was packin'. Only thing saved me from a murder rap was I didn't have the dead kid's blood on my knife." Vin scrubbed trembling hands over his face. "Ain't never gonna forget the look on Ricky's mom's face, the sound of her cryin'. All over some crappy little piece of city block."
Though he kept silent, Chris placed a hand between Vin's shoulder blades.
"I was seventeen years old," Vin continued, his voice raspy. "Coulda ended up in juvy, or worse, tried as an adult. Reckon I would've if it weren't for Nettie. She fought for me, convinced the judge to suspend my sentence and release me into her custody on the condition that I'd enlist once I turned eighteen." He darted a look over his shoulder at Chris. "The rest you know."
"I never realized." Chris shook his head. "There's nothing in your records."
"Sealed," Vin replied. "Thanks to Nettie."
Chris slid his hand up to tug the long hair. "You could've told me."
"I almost did. Lots of times." Vin shrugged. "Lost my nerve."
"Can't say I'm surprised, considering some of the things I've said," Chris admitted. "But I'm real glad you told me now."
Vin sat up straight, turning to face him with a wince. "I need you to understand, Chris. Nettie saved me. If it weren't for her, I'd be rottin' in prison right now, or dead. If I can do that for even one of those kids--"
"Shut up," Chris said, his voice gruff. "I'm the jackass here. You don't owe me any explanations."
Vin ducked his head. "Maybe not. But I do owe you a helluva lot."
The tension curling in his stomach slowly unwound. Thank God he hadn't broken things beyond repair.
Chris smiled. "Then do me a favor, Cowboy." At Vin's raised eyebrow he added, "Watch your back."
"I do, Chris, honest. What happened the other night, it was an accident. Kid I been workin' with was gettin' sucked into dealin' drugs. I showed up at the buy, hopin' to talk him outta it, but one of the other guys made me for a cop and things flipped outta control. Some threats, some shovin', weapons got pulled, my kid panicked, and..." He lifted his shoulders with a grimace.
With effort Chris tamped down on the urge to point out that the situation had been ripe for disaster from the start. Where his kids were concerned, Vin had always led with his heart rather than his head. At least now Chris understood why.
"So next time play it safe," he told his friend. "If you think there's even a remote possibility things could go south, bring back up." He nudged Vin's knee with his own. "I know just the guy for the job."
Vin's eyes lit up. "You'd do that?"
Chris inclined his head. "Said I'd be there, didn't I?" He pinned Vin with an intense stare. "That's a promise I plan on living up to, Cowboy. Count on it."
Vin flushed, one corner of his mouth turning up in a lopsided grin. "Reckon if I can count on anyone, it'd be you."
"Damn straight."
The doorbell rang. Chris rolled his eyes as he stood. "If that's one of Buck's women..."
"Better that than one of J.D.'s computer geeks," Vin said with a smirk.
It was Josiah and Nathan. Raising an eyebrow, Chris swung the door wide.
"Got some news I think you'll want to hear," Josiah said as they headed for the den. "Vin. How are you feeling?"
Any reply Vin might have made was cut off when Nathan snatched the shot glasses off the coffee table and skewered Chris with a glare. "You gave him whiskey? Are you outta your mind?"
"Now hold on," Chris spluttered. "You don't--"
The doorbell rang. Ignoring Vin's snickered "Saved by the bell" Chris opened the door.
It was Ezra.
Chris scowled. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Ensuring you don't say anything we'll all regret." Ezra brushed past him. "It appears my timing, as always, is impeccable."
Shutting the door harder than necessary, Chris trailed down the hallway. Vin was patiently enduring Nathan, who was currently checking pupil response with his penlight. Josiah was flipping through a novel from the bookshelf. Ezra, damn him, had gone straight for Buck's good whiskey.
"Don't you all have someplace to be?" Chris growled. "Josiah, what--"
The front door opened and slammed shut.
It was Buck and J.D.
"Looks a lot like a party, but where the hell're the women?" Buck plucked the bottle from Ezra's fingers and thrust a large bag of cheese puffs into his hands.
"Why don't you go and search for some," Ezra suggested, holding the bag by one corner as if it might bite. "I understand there's a bowling alley right around the corner."
"And people wonder why I've got an ulcer," Chris muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Josiah, you said you have news?"
"Got a call about an hour ago from Detective Williamson." Josiah sank into the large recliner with a soft grunt. "Seems one of the Lobos, a kid named Alexander Vega, showed up at the station earlier this morning."
Chris glanced at Vin, who had stiffened, his expression blank. "Go on," he told Josiah.
"Kid claimed he'd accidentally killed a cop. Wanted to turn himself in."
J.D. frowned. "Killed? Oh! You mean he thought Vin was dead?"
"Apparently," Josiah replied.
"Vin?" Chris took a seat beside his friend. "You okay?"
Vin slowly lifted his gaze to Josiah. "Alex? He turned himself in?"
"Way I hear it, he was pretty broken up," Josiah said. "Shocked the hell out of Williamson."
"He turned himself in." Vin sounded dazed, as if he were struggling to believe his own words.
"Kid was pretty damn happy to hear you're alive. Wants to see you when you're up to it." Josiah's expression was gentle. "If you put in a good word, I think Williamson will go easy. He's a pretty decent guy once you get to know him."
"Goes both ways," Vin said. "Alex is a pretty decent kid."
"So let's get this party rollin'!" Buck waved a paper menu. "Who wants pizza?"
"No pizza for Vin, he just got outta the hospital," Nathan grumbled. "Bad enough Chris's givin' him whiskey."
"For the last time, I did not--"
"Get some of those bread sticks, Buck." J.D. flicked on the television and tuned to the football game. "And we need more beer!"
"Some wine would be appreciated." Ezra curled his lip, dumping the snack bag onto the bar. "To go with the cheese puffs."
"You okay with all this?" Chris asked, concerned by Vin's silence.
"Yeah. I just..." A slow smile spread across Vin's face. "He turned himself in, Chris."
"Took a lot of guts," Chris agreed. He cocked an eyebrow. "Someone must've made a big impression on the kid."
Vin's grin, bright with gratitude, told Chris that this time he'd said exactly what his friend needed to hear.
It was time he stopped fighting who Vin was and started appreciating him for it. Building a friendship with a stubborn, often-infuriating, always-selfless guy like Vin Tanner wasn't always easy.
But damn...it was worth it.
End
