Chapter 10

"Hi, Boss. How's Vin?"

"They just brought him back to his room. Camilla promised to come and get me when he's settled." Chris tucked the cell phone against his ear and stood, pacing to the waiting room's large window. "Everything under control?"

"Running like clockwork. Ezra and Nathan finished inventorying the guns, J.D.'s digging up information on Sinclair's supplier, and Buck debriefed Travis."

Tilting his head left, then right, Chris tried to work the kinks out of his neck. "Great. That's great. What about Jonah--any word?"

"Turns out his mother has a sister in California who was only too happy to take him in. She's got little ones so it'll be another couple days before she can fly out here to collect him," Josiah replied. "Any word on his dad?"

"Still holding his own. They're cautiously optimistic--whatever the hell that means."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Everything under control?"

"Well, Vin's still in a lot of pain, but getting rid of the chest tube--"

"Not Vin, Chris." Josiah's voice turned gentle. "I'm asking about you." When Chris fumbled for an answer, he added, "You were looking a little rough around the edges when you left here. I've got two ears, if you need 'em."

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Chris sighed. "I'm fine, Josiah."

"Sometimes it's harder to see a brother hurt than to bear the pain ourselves."

"I said I'm fine."

"Of course you are. I'm just saying it isn't easy watching a friend struggle when all you want to do is dive in and help. Sometimes our stubborn Texan's too independent for his own good."

Chris huffed. "You can say that again." He rubbed at the headache building behind his eyes. "Callaway warned me about the pain and weakness, but there's something more going on."

"I do get the impression Vin's wounds aren't all visible." Josiah paused. "Something happened in that cellar."

Tipping his head against the glass, Chris shut his eyes. "Something happened a long time ago. The cellar just dredged it all up."

"You've tried talking to him?"

"Of course I have. But he's either in agony or stoned on morphine. And he's reinforced those damn walls of his with steel."

"Well, Boss, I can tell you this much: losing sleep isn't going to bring those walls down any quicker."

Chuckling, Chris shook his head. "Now you sound like Nathan."

"I'll consider that a compliment." The amusement left Josiah's voice. "He'll let you in eventually, Chris. I'm sure of it."

Chris caught a flicker of movement and turned to see Camilla approaching. "Gotta go, Josiah. See you at six?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

He snapped the phone shut and met Vin's nurse halfway. "I can go in now?"

"Go ahead. But Chris..." She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "It'll take a few more hours for the anesthesia to work its way out of his system. So don't be concerned if he doesn't make much sense--he's still pretty loopy."

"Thanks."

She smiled. "I'll be in every so often just to keep tabs on him. If you need anything sooner, just give me a buzz."

"I thought your shift was over in..." He checked his watch. "...ten minutes."

"I decided to stay a little longer. There are some supplies I need to inventory."

"Which coincidentally gives you the opportunity to make sure Vin is all right."

Camilla folded her arms and glared down her nose at him. "What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "He gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

A slight twitch of her lips and she headed back to the nurses' station. "Use the call button, Mr. Larabee. Otherwise I'll stop by in about 30 minutes."

He stepped quietly into Vin's room, his eyes on the figure in the bed. Seeing Vin so wan and still, it was difficult to remember that removing the chest tube was a milestone, not a setback. Chris walked slowly around the bed, examining the bag of I.V. antibiotic, adjusting the blanket, and smoothing an errant strand of hair from Vin's face.

He'd been settled in a chair with a book for about 15 minutes when Vin's breathing sped up and he fidgeted restlessly. Standing, Chris moved closer, taking in the light sheen of sweat, rapid eye movement, and muscle twitches.

Laying his hand on his friend's chest, Chris felt the rapid beat. "Vin. Wake up, pard."

Vin made a low, distressed sound in the back of his throat. His eyes flew open and he came up swinging. "Let go!"

"Take it easy. You were dreaming," Chris soothed.

"Chris? What--?"

"The chest tube is history. You're back in your room."

"I thought..." Vin scanned his surroundings with wide, glassy eyes.

"What?"

"Never mind." Gradually relaxing, Vin accepted some ice chips and raised a minimum of protest when Chris deflected his questing fingers from the newly bandaged area on his side.

"You in any pain?" he asked, hoping to distract him.

Vin screwed up his face as if the question required all his concentration. "Must be, but I feel too good to tell fer sure."

Chris suppressed a grin. "Camilla said it'd be a while before the anesthesia wore off. She'll be in to check on you in a bit."

Sinking deeper into the pillow, Vin gave him a lopsided grin. "I like Camilla. She reminds me of Nettie. And m' ma." He slurred the words, the drugs deepening his drawl. "Julie, m' night nurse is real nice too. She don't have Camilla's spunk but she's got somethin' almost as good."

"What's that?"

"A great ass."

Chris nearly swallowed his tongue. He'd sat in on enough bull sessions with the boys to know Vin held a healthy appreciation for a pretty lady. But he'd never heard his shy, reticent teammate confess more than basic attraction, and then only in the most respectful terms.

Guess still waters really did run deep. And Camilla wasn't kidding about those drugs.

"I hadn't noticed," he said dryly. "Maybe you should ask her out, once you're back on your feet."

"Nah." Plucking at the blanket, Vin turned his head to gaze out the window. "She'd just say no."

"What makes you think that?"

Vin lifted his uninjured shoulder. "She works with all them smart, rich doctor types. Girl like that--she's outta my league."

"Bullshit."

Chris was blindsided by a burst of anger. He'd known Vin was a little insecure about his dyslexia and the way it had impacted his education. Still, he'd always thought his friend's skill with a gun more than balanced that hit to his self-esteem. Did Vin really believe himself less worthy because he didn't have a college degree? And how the hell could Chris not have realized that until now?

"You're as good as any doctor. All those degrees are just pieces of paper--what matters is the man inside. Anyone would be lucky to go out with you."

Vin winked--or at least he tried. "Thanks, Cowboy, but yer not my type."

Chris rolled his eyes, but at least his anger backed off a notch. Vin squirmed around a bit, then seemed to drift toward sleep, his eyes fluttering shut. Just when Chris was ready to reclaim his chair, Vin jerked and opened his eyes.

"Jonah?"

I wish to hell you'd stop fretting over that kid "He's all right," Chris said aloud. "His mother's sister wants him to come and live with her family. Josiah says she seems real nice."

"They all do, at first," Vin muttered.

"What?"

"How 'bout his pa?"

Chris looked at him through narrowed eyes for a long moment before answering. "Doing better. Doctors think he'll make it."

Evidently the drugs not only loosened Vin's tongue, but also sabotaged his poker face. Chris watched various emotions flicker across his features--relief, anger, guilt, and deep sorrow.

"Vin." He paused, his conscience pricking him for what he was about to do. "What did you mean when you said it would've been better if Jonah's dad had stayed a bastard?"

Vin knit his brows together. "Son of a bitch don't deserve to be looked at like some kinda hero."

"No one's calling him a hero."

"Good. 'Cause he ain't. One good deed don't make up fer a lifetime of shittin' on ya."

Studying Vin's face, Chris thought hard before speaking. Something profound was lying just beneath the thin veneer of anger in his friend's words. "I agree. But I don't see how what he did will hurt Jonah."

Pressing his lips together, Vin turned his head and said nothing.

"I mean," Chris said tentatively, "seems to me at least now Jonah has proof his father really does care about him."

Vin snapped his head around, fixing Chris with a glare that might have been scary except for the tears glistening in his eyes. "You think that'll make him feel better?"

Chris gaped at him, bewildered. "Won't it?"

"Let me ask you somethin', Larabee. Which do you think hurts more--knowin' the bastard beatin' the hell outta you does it 'cause he hates you? Or 'cause it's his sick, twisted way of lovin' you?"

Nausea churned in Chris's stomach until he could barely choke a reply. "Vin, I--"

"You can't stop 'em from hurtin' you. The only thing you can do, the one scrap of power you got, is to hate 'em back. An' every time they do somethin' nice--come to your football game, or tell you you done good, or...or throw themselves in front of a damn bullet... They take even that much away from you."

Curling his fingers around Vin's arm, Chris asked, "Is that how it was for you?"

Vin pulled away, blinking hard. "This ain't about me."

You're wrong, Cowboy.

Camilla chose that moment to enter the room. She took one look at Vin's tense posture and sweaty face and scowled.

"What's going on here, Mr. Tanner? Your heart rate is up and your color is bad. Do I need to kick Mr. Larabee out?"

"Hell," Vin said to Chris. "I know 'm in trouble when she starts callin' me mister."

Picking up his wrist, she checked her watch. "Must not be feeling too bad if you can still behave like a stubborn fool." When Chris smirked she turned her frown his way. "At least he can blame it on the anesthesia. What's your excuse?"

Vin snickered, then pressed a hand to his chest, groaning.

"It's going to be tender for a while." Camilla tucked aside Vin's hair and slipped an aural thermometer into his ear, the tenderness of her touch belying her brusque demeanor. "How's the pain?"

"Weren't none 'til you made me laugh."

She pursed her lips but her eyes twinkled. "Your temperature's a little elevated, but that's to be expected. Dr. Callaway says we can get you set up on a PCA pump now that you're more lucid. It'll let you control your own pain medication by pressing a button."

"Don't like the drugs." Vin suppressed a yawn, his eyelids heavy. "Make me sleep all the time. 'Sides, I don't need 'em."

"Sleep is the best thing for you right now. And I guarantee that in another hour or so you'll see just how badly you do need them." She rearranged the pillows so that Vin was propped more comfortably. "Now do as you're told, and I'll bring you some of that ginger ale you're so fond of."

The corners of Vin's mouth turned up. "Yes, ma'am."

Patting his arm, Camilla gave Chris a warning glare that would've put Travis to shame and left.

Chris shook his head. "I get chewed out and you get ginger ale. Figures."

"Yer just upset 'cause you finally met yer match when it comes to the Larabee death stare. Put the two of you in the same room an' you could peel the paint clean off the walls."

"Didn't I hear Camilla tell you to go to sleep?"

Vin smirked but shut his eyes. Sitting in his chair, Chris watched as his friend's heart rate and breathing slowed. He reached for his book, but Vin's soft, husky voice stayed his hand.

"'M the reason he turned in his pa, Chris. Jus' wanna know he'll be okay."

Leaning forward, Chris placed his hand on top of his friend's. "He's safe, Cowboy. And he's got all the heart and determination of a certain Texan I know. He's going to be just fine."

Whether comforted by his words or simply overcome by exhaustion, Vin slept.

Continued in Chapter 11