All the way back to Larabee's, Buck's mind was on overdrive. All the years he'd known Vin, he sifted now like clues at a crime scene. He couldn't summon one memory of Vin touching or being touched by anyone. Until the past couple of days, Buck couldn't remember ever touching Vin - he just always seemed to give off vibes like a force field and Buck never tried breaching it. It'd never occurred to him that it translated into the whole rest of Vin's life. Wearing Chris' shirt was the closest thing to an intimate gesture Buck could recall Vin displaying. He was thirty now, or nearly, how could a man go that long without making love with a woman?

How could anybody be so afraid of another person's touch?

*/*/*/*

By the time they got to Chris' house, Vin was in misery. He didn't want to remember the loneliness that made up most of his life. Physical loneliness as much as emotional. He hadn't been touched in so long - till that first time Nettie hugged him - that he was almost afraid of it. Afraid of wanting it, afraid of the need of it overwhelming everything else in his life.

The goodbye hugs he got now from Nettie - used to get anyway - meant so much to him, he kept a mental count of how many times it happened, and he remembered each and every one of them vividly. And the other night, Saturday night, when Chris held him while he cried - Vin didn't think he'd ever get over the shock of that happening. It astonished him that Chris would do that, with or without the attack, and it shamed him how good it felt and how much he wished he could stay there forever.

So now he didn't feel good, he was hungry but didn't want to eat, he felt lightheaded, and parts of his body he didn't want to think about ached. He just wanted to get back to Chris' house and hide.

*/*/*/*

They parked in the driveway and Vin followed Buck to the front door.

"Where's Mary? Her car's not here..." Buck asked as he unlocked the door.

"School shopping. Guess the mall is having a 'last chance' sale or something."

"Oh I remember those days..." They walked into a silent house. Buck checked on Chris while Vin took the McDonald's trash into the kitchen to toss.

"Sleeping Beauty is still out." Buck announced, following Vin into the kitchen.

"He took enough medication to choke a horse...'preciate you taking me to breakfast Buck. Sorry I wasn't better company..."

Vin looked up when Buck let out a long breath.

"You were fine company Vin. I'm always glad to spend time with you. This wasn't a 'pity date'. Trust me - I know. I've been on the giving and the receiving end of those..." but Vin didn't respond to the humor. He leaned against the counter and pushed one hand into a front pocket of his jeans. "How's your back feeling anyway?" Buck went on. He came to stand in front of Vin.

"Okay, I've been taking my own arsenal of pain killers."

"Well, there's something I want to give you, if you'll let me."

"What is it?" Vin asked, suspicious.

"This." and Buck wrapped his arms around a very startled Vin.

"Buck? What - don't - Buck. What are you doing?" Vin put his hands on Buck's arms, trying to resist, but he found himself firmly - but gently - restrained.

"I'm teaching you a lesson." Buck told him.

"What the hell kinda lesson, Buck? Let me go."

"I want to show you that this -" he emphasized the word by increasing the pressure of his embrace just slightly. " - this is nothing to be afraid of. And needing it is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Fine. Thanks. Let me go." Vin said into the fabric of Buck's shirt.

"No, Vin, it's just not that easy."

"Buck - I'm fine. Let me go." Vin tried an insistent voice, but was afraid to physically try harder, he didn't want to hurt his back.

"This isn't about being 'fine' or 'not fine' Vin. At least not physically."

"Then what the hell is it about?" Vin felt panic welling up in him, his breath came fast, and in another minute he was going to force Buck to let go, no matter how much it might hurt. Physically or otherwise.

"It's about knowing that you're not alone, Vin. It's about letting friends help you and care about you."

"You can help me by letting me go."

Vin increased the force of his hands on Buck's arms. What if Chris woke up? What if Mary came home? He didn't want anybody to see him standing here, hugging Buck, hugging anybody. He was never going to touch another person as long as he lived. The comfort of being held safe and close would never be worth how bad it would hurt when needing it was more than the other person could stand.

"Not yet." Buck held on. Vin was slight to start with, and Buck tried to be careful not to aggravate the fractured vertebrae, but he held on. This was no different from learning to drive - scary at first, but once you did it enough times it became second nature.

"I don't want you to touch me!" Vin finally shouted. Buck wasn't fazed.

"Why not?" he asked patiently.

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"Because..." Vin said again, trying to figure it out himself. Why not?

Why the hell not?

"Because...I don't deserve it." The softly spoken answer threw Buck for a loop.

"What do you mean you don't deserve it? Because they raped you? Of course you deserve it."

"No, I don't. I don't deserve it." Years of pain overtook the recent trauma and Vin choked on it as tears filled his eyes.

"Of course you deserve it." Buck repeated gently. "Why wouldn't you deserve it?"

"Because -" Vin started to cry now. " - because if I deserved it, wouldn't somebody have done it even once in all this time?"

It took Buck a full minute to find his voice. Never more than a couple of days passed that he didn't hug somebody, he couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to go years with no physical affection. Not even sex, Buck couldn't imagine being a kid and having no one to hold your hand when you were scared or sick, no one to pull you into their lap and rock you to sleep. No one to give you a hug when they were proud, or sorry, or happy.

Still minding Vin's broken back, Buck took a firmer hold on his fragile, shaking friend, shifting his stance slightly to support the extra weight that grief carried.

"God, I'm sorry Vin. That's a hell of a place to be alone. I'm so sorry..."

*/*/*/*

Chris was so heavily medicated that at first the voices came through in dreams. Buck and Vin hovered somewhere in the fog, talking, arguing, and Chris tried to get to them, but his body was lead and impossible to move. The tone of the Vin's voice became more distressed, more panicked, and Chris pulled himself as close to consciousness as he could get and set off on a perilous trek from couch to kitchen. His feet dragged, his head pounded, and his eyes felt swollen. On the floor beside the couch, Cowboy lay stretched out in heat-induced lethargy, managing only to softly thump his tail on the carpeted floor. Chris made it as far as the doorway to the kitchen and had to stop, leaning heavily against the wall to keep from sliding down to the floor.

He thought he must still be dreaming, he blinked several times to clear his vision, but it was real. There, twelve feet away at the kitchen sink, there stood Buck with his arms around Vin. From where he stood - precariously - Chris could tell that Vin was crying, he was saying something soft and broken to Buck, and Buck was quietly answering him.

When the reality finally cleared his drug-dimmed thinking, Chris quickly and quietly retreated to the couch, ashamed to have been peeping.

This was going to be a long day.

*/*/*/*

If Vin could just sink into the floor and die, he knew he'd be so much happier. If he thought his legs would keep him upright, he'd pull away from Buck and go upstairs. If he could just take a deep enough breath of air, he'd tell Buck it was really okay to let him go now. If only he didn't feel so safe and clean in the circle of Buck's compassion, Vin knew he wouldn't be standing here crying like a child in his big brother's arms. It was too much. It would be too much and he had to start taking care of himself.

"Don't -" the words choked out of him and into Buck's cotton shirt. " - don't tell Chris..." His voice caught in spasms of sobbing. "Don't tell him."

"Don't tell him what?" Buck asked softly. "Vin - you're going through a hell of a hard time and it's been less than seventy two hours. Chris'll understand you needing this. Hell, he's probably wondering how you held on so long."

But Vin shook his head.

"He'll think -" he stammered on a hiccup of breath. " - he'll think I'm too much trouble..."

"That'd be about the last thing Chris Larabee ever thought about you." Buck told him, thinking it was a strange comment, considering he was the one standing with Vin at the moment. "He'd move Heaven and Earth to help you and not think one thing about it."

"No - no he wouldn't." Vin insisted.

"How do you know? He ever tell you something like that?"

"...no..."

"See?" Buck stood very still holding Vin. He didn't want to twist, turn, or twinge anything that might already hurt Vin too much. "There's no way Chris'd ever think you were too much trouble." Vin was quiet after that, Buck figured - at least hoped - that the words had got through to him.

After a little while longer, the shuddering eased, the crying softened, and Buck felt Vin take a long, deep breath. Still he held on, wanting Vin to feel - to understand - that hugs weren't just for a crisis, but for calm moments as well.

"She said." Vin spoke after another minute or so of calming himself down. He made no attempt to move away from Buck.

"Who said?"

"My aunt. She told me I always want people to take care a'me. She said people get sick and tired of it. She did."

"Who's your aunt?" Buck asked, his anger instantly roused against this anonymous woman. "Who the hell is she to be telling you that?"

"Lived with her..." Vin finally, reluctantly pulled back and out of Buck's arms. Buck let him stand back, but kept his hands on Vin's shoulders. "...after my Dad died. She said I was selfish and never looked out for anybody else..." Vin wiped his sleeve across his eyes and wouldn't look up at Buck.

"Well, the polite answer is that she was wrong." Buck fumed. "And you don't want to hear the impolite answer..."

"No, she's right. I could see she was right..." he sounded like maybe he wanted someone to dispute it.

"How could you see she was right?" Buck asked but got no answer. "Vin?"

"I always needed stuff." It came out a bit aggravated. "Shoes for school, or books, or if I got sick...I tried not to need anything, I tried so hard." his voice cracked and he roughly pulled out of Buck's grasp, muttering something about using the bathroom.

Buck let him walk away, and shook his head. When the bathroom door closed, he could hear the squeak of couch springs, and the dull 'thump thump' of Cowboy's tail. Chris was awake, or at least moving around, and Buck went in to view him.

He found Chris sitting up, head in his hands. He looked up when he heard his friend come into the room. "How bad is he?" he asked about Vin.

"Bad enough." Buck sighed. He stayed between the two rooms, keeping an eye on the bathroom door and Chris at the same time. "He ever mention an aunt to you?"

"Aunt?"

"Yeah, said he lived with her after his Dad died?" Buck elaborated but it was apparent that trying to think was making Chris' headache worse. "She told him he was selfish, told him people get tired of taking care of him. He was crying just now." Buck didn't know Chris had seen them. "Didn't want you to know, didn't want you to think he's a burden. On top of everything else that's happened to him..."

"Ah hell..." Chris bent his head down to rub his neck. "Yesterday Vin said something like that to me. Something about letting him know he was too much trouble before I threw him out. Damn." he let out a pained sigh. "Wondered where that was coming from."

*/*/*/*

Vin'd only fled to the downstairs bathroom to escape Buck. No - to escape spilling anymore about himself to Buck. Sometimes people didn't realize something about you, until you told them about it. Now Buck'd be adding up all the little bits and moments that would prove Aunt Diane right. And Buck and his concern and his embrace would fade away and Vin'd be left to shoulder this burden all alone. But God - it had felt good to let somebody else be strong for that little while. He soaked a washcloth in cold water and held it against his eyes.

That other night too, Saturday, with Chris holding him and saying everything would be okay. Repeating it like a prayer. Vin realized he was surprised that Chris was solid, surprised to realize that he expected other people to be insubstantial as smoke and nobody strong enough to hold him.

But they had held him, and for a few miraculous minutes, Vin wasn't alone in his misery and guilt and shame.

For a few minutes.

After awhile he tossed the washcloth in the sink and used the bathroom for its intended purpose.

*/*/*/*

"Buck..."

"If you don't relax Chris, it'll only hurt."

"It already hurts."

"I have magic fingers I'll have you know."

"OW!"

Vin came out of the half-bath to find Chris sitting at the kitchen table with Buck standing behind rubbing his neck and shoulders. Larabee's shoulders were high around his ears, but - other than verbally - he wasn't fighting Buck.

"You know this always makes you feel better." Buck said.

"Only because once you stop, it feels better by comparison." Chris' voice was tight with the pain. When he saw Vin in the little hallway, Chris tapped Buck's hand to stop. "Hey - how was breakfast?" Vin looked from Chris to Buck to the floor and back to Chris. He shook his head slightly.

"Wasn't so hungry..." he said. "You okay?"

"I feel better than I look." Chris told him, and Vin blew out a breath.

"In that case - where d'you want the body sent?" he asked. Chris tried to glare but it just hurt his head too much.

"Funny guy." Chris said instead. "I have a Day Planner and a secretary you know. I can schedule a time to give you a smart answer."

Vin stayed in the relative shadows of the hallway, but they could see he was smiling.

"Well, I'm shaking in my boots Chris. Just shaking in my boots..."

Chris put his head in his hands. "Why didn't I just go to work today where I could get paid to have people annoy me?" he asked, of no one in particular. Buck and Vin exchanged a look over Chris' bowed head, sharing the rare humor of Chris trying and failing miserably to maintain his tough as nails exterior.

"Hey Pard..." Buck said, both hands still resting lightly on Chris' shoulders. "I gotta be going. You want me to getcha back to the couch?"

"Naah, thanks Buck." Chris tried to turn his head up to answer, but didn't make it. "Think I'm gonna stay here awhile..."

"Okay...hey Vin - you wanna come button up the windows after me?" meaning the sliding glass doors.

"Sure..." Vin moved out of the shadows and crossed the kitchen to follow Buck out onto the deck out back. When they were out of Chris' earshot, Buck turned a very serious look on Vin.

"Are you okay? Any more blood?"

"I'm okay. There's no more blood." Well, there was only a little blood, so it was only a little lie.

"Okay..." Buck pulled his keys out of his back pocket. "You take care of Chris for me, will you? See if you can't get him to eat something. His headaches always seem to rage worse on an empty stomach."

"I'll see what I can do." Vin promised.

"Okay...well kid -" and before Vin knew what was happening, Buck had drawn him into another solid, comforting hug. "I'll check on you later. Chris gave me your keys and I'll check your mail for you. All right?" Vin nodded. Briefly, just briefly, let himself return the hug.

"Okay Buck, thanks."

to be continued