Connections:

Chapter 3:

A crash of thunder brought Vin around. Blinking his eyes to clear them he managed to focus on his surroundings, damn, the basement and the stairs. As his eyes cleared unfortunately so did his head and he became acutely aware of his surroundings.

A flash of lighting illuminated the interior area; it didn't improve anything. Vin fumbled with his watch on his left wrist, managed to remove it and held it over his face, 2:30 in the afternoon. The realization of the time caused a stab of fear in Vin's brain. Trying to think back to the events of the day he realized with more than a little fear he had probably been lying here for close to seven hours, not good, not good at all

Although the memory of his attempt at moving had returned to his mind, along with the pain of his injuries, Vin decided that he was going to have to try again only with a few modifications. First of all, he was going to have to remove the wood from his leg. Vin knew that if he could extract that he would be able to handle rolling onto his right side, although he knew his left shoulder wasn't going to be very pleased with him.

Concentrating on one thing at a time Vin managed to get his right hand underneath his leg and lift it enough so he could see the wood sticking from his thigh. It looked like he would be able to get a good grip on the wood, so he lowered his leg and thought about what would happen after he got the wood out; his leg would bleed probably heavily since the wood was, in essence, keeping the wound closed, fine time for him to be out and about with running pants and not jeans which would have required him to wear a belt.

Suddenly a gust of warmish wet air swept through the basement through one of the broken out windows, the air current carried with it a piece of material that landed on Vin's chest. Startled he could only stare at it for a moment, it looked like a lady's scarf.

Vin reached down to touch the material and was surprised at how soft and amazingly clean it looked, there was a hint of --- must be dreaming there, Tanner, it almost smells like apples, he smiled to himself. Better get this wood out, and out of here before I start thinking anything else.

Bracing himself mentally he grasped the piece of wood, took as deep a breath as he dared and pulled as hard as he could. A scream of pain tore from his throat as the wood ripped free of his leg. For almost a minute Vin could do nothing but gasp for air trying desperately not to throw up, not that there was anything inside of him to throw up.

As the dizziness and nausea receded Vin fumbled with the scarf until he managed to fold it in half and drape it over his leg so that the loop was on the outside of his leg, wriggling his left foot underneath his right knee he managed to drape the scarf's loop over his foot and then drag the scarf under his leg, lifting up his left foot he was then able to gather both ends of the scarf with his right hand.

Tying a loose knot he dropped the longer of the two ends of the scarf down between his two legs, drew his left foot up, stood on the end of the scarf and tugged as tight as he could. Placing the piece of wood that had formerly been impaled in his leg into the knot of the scarf he began to twist it around and around until the scarf was wound tightly against his leg thus stemming the flow of blood.

Exhausted Vin lay back, phase one was complete. Allowing himself to rest for a moment he listened to the gentle patter of the rain falling allowing the soft noise to sooth him. The warm breeze that had graced him only minutes before was replaced by a sharp cold gust of wind that whipped through the basement. Following the sound of the wind a flash of lightening split the sky followed by a crash of thunder.

For a moment Vin smelled something else on the air, the scent of apples forgotten he was now assailed by the odor of stale booze. It was a smell that Vin disliked normally, in his injured and still somewhat queasy state it was even worse. Once again the thunder crashed through the air and a flash of lightening crackled and over the sounds Vin was sure he could hear another sound, a laugh, a cruel, drunken laugh – his father's.

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JD was sitting at Nettie's kitchen table working on Casey's notebook. She had asked him to add some extra memory as well as tweak some of the maintenance and system settings. These were all incredibly simple tasks and he had completed those around lunchtime.

For lunch they enjoyed a simple yet filling meal of sandwiches and some of Nettie's homemade soup and he had decided to check Casey's security software as well as clean up her hard disc. It had started to rain while they were eating lunch so all were quite willing to spend the rainy Saturday working on long neglected indoor chores.

For Nettie that meant culling through her wardrobe and finding items to mend or donate or in some cases both. For Casey that meant catching up on some letters to friends, problem was any of the friends she kept up with by letter she did via email and since JD was working on her computer Casey found herself sitting next to him watching him work and soaking up the information he was sharing.

At that moment what JD was trying to work on wasn't working and the only information he was sharing was that he was quite bewildered as to the problem. For the past 30 minutes or so he'd been getting a system error report that continued to flash across the screen. He'd reboot it in safe mode, he'd reboot it in normal mode, he unplugged the power and removed the battery as well as removed and replaced the memory cards and nothing worked.

Each time the system came up and right before it hit the C prompt to take it to its normal start up procedure the same error code flashed on the screen and remained there:

6-12-15-18-5-19-20-1-14

There was no explanation for it.

Casey had been quiet watching JD work. She knew he loved to talk about his work and loved to explain what he was doing and despite his rapid speech he was amazingly patient and thorough in explaining and teaching. She had asked him a few questions but since he liked to talk as he worked she'd learned to just sit back and watch and listen and usually her questions would get answered along the way.

Now they were both just staring at the screen, both lost in thought. Casey had been secretly imagining that what was on her computer was a secret code. She didn't broach it to JD because she knew he would tease her which didn't bother her in the least but also because she couldn't imagine what the point would be in putting a 'secret agent' code on her computer would be in the first place. However, after sitting there with no other explanation she'd decided, what the heck, might as well match it up with the simplest code there was and have a little fun.

Matching each number to its corresponding letter in the alphabet she quickly spelled out what the 'code' said.

F-L-O-R-E-S-T-A-N.

JD looked over as he saw her writing on a piece of scrap paper she had in front of her. He read the letters out loud and then looked at Casey.

"Secret agent code?"

"Yep."

"Why not, I haven't got any explanation for it. Okay. Florestan"

Just then Nettie walked through with an armload of folded clothes that she set on the counter.

"Florestan? Ah, that's the hero of Beethoven's one and only opera, a lovely opera; in fact, I think it's playing at the Proctor's for the next week. I should call Vin."

JD and Casey looked first at Nettie and then at each other and then both burst out laughing.

"Why --- why would you call Vin?"

JD asked gasping for breath as he convulsed with laughter.

"Now, JD, don't you go laughing. My Vin has a great attachment to that opera and he'd be thrilled to go see Fidelio with me."

"Fidelio?" Casey asked.

"Yes, my dear." And Nettie's face softened as she remembered the time when Vin had first learned about Beethoven and his opera Fidelio. Nettie pulled up another chair to the table and began to tell the tale.

"When Vin had been in my class for about a month, I made it clear to him that I knew he was smart and that there was no way I was going to tolerate barely passing work from him when I knew he could do so much more. So, I told him that he would come and work with me, three nights a week and I would bring dinner, and he would bring his work and we would work and that was all there was to it."

'Course Nettie wasn't about to let on that she had more than guessed by then that Vin, who was in his mid-teens at the time, was living hand to mouth on the streets and likely didn't have a place to go and get dinner most nights much less have a place to sleep, so she made sure she stuffed him good and full those nights and always had to send him out with extra food 'so as not to go to waste' as she would tell him.

She also did all her tutoring right in her school room in the community center and since they would work until well past 11:00 o'clock at night, she would drive him to her little house, a few blocks away, and have him sleep in the little room outside her house above her garage. It wasn't much but it was snug and dry and had running water and electricity.

Shaking her head to bring herself back to the present Nettie took up the thread of her story.

"Anyway, one afternoon he appeared for our tutoring session and I had Beethoven's opera, Fidelio, playing in the background. As I was talking on the phone when he came he just sat down, pulled out his books and then sat patiently waiting and listening. After I hung up the phone, he asked me how it was that I could listen to something that was being sung in a foreign language. How I could enjoy that if I couldn't understand what was going on.

Well, I started telling him that when one goes to the opera the music and the acting along with the singing tell the tale and the words can be in any language and you would understand it. I explained that Beethoven only wrote one opera but that it is considered quite excellent and in this opera Fidelio is a made up person, the name being rooted in Latin for faithful and that it was really a story of how Leonore, disguised as a prison guard named "Fidelio", rescues her husband, Florestan, from death in a political prison.

A few months later a travelling operatic group came to Denver and presented Fidelio and I took Vin and he told me afterwards that I was right, he understood the story completely even though he didn't understand the words being sung.

I think he was even more impressed by Beethoven's ability to write the fabulous musical scores not only to Fidelio but in all his works, especially since much of Beethoven's greatest achievements were written after he had become profoundly deaf.

In Vin's eyes Beethoven became somewhat of an unlikely hero as here was a man who followed his passion no matter what obstacles came his way, and he did it not even for his own enjoyment as he could never fully appreciate the artistry and richness to his music but did it because those that heard his performances could."

JD and Casey sat quietly while Nettie talked and when she stopped they just stared at her thoughtfully until she roused herself, wiped the tears that had filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks and then stood up muttering something about getting back to her Saturday chores and enough of this idle chit chat.

JD was startled to learn something so intimiate about Vin's past and something so unusual and as he stared at the computer that continued to flash

6-12-15-18-5-19-20-1-14

he kept repeating in his head, Florestan – Florestan – Florestan.

What did it mean?

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Confused. That was the best way to describe Vin's mental state at the moment. As he lay on the damp floor trying to gather his strength after removing the shard of wood in his leg he had been reviewing all that he had experienced so far: the cry of a child that didn't seem to exist, a push, shove, trip, he wasn't sure that had sent him crashing to the bottom of the stairs, a blurry silhouette of a man that resembled what he remembered of his father, a warm caress of a breeze, the soothing sound of his mother's voice, the warm comforting scent of apples and the cruel, chilling laugh of his drunken father.

As Vin lay shivering yet still panting from his exertions only moments before he wondered what did it all mean?

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Nate sat in the darkened theater enjoying the fact that he could sit quietly and hold Rain's hand; the opera being acted out on the stage was not as bad as he had thought. She had been after him for years to expand his mind and try the ballet or opera or the symphony and they had done two of the three over the past couple of years and he found he did like the symphony very much, ballet was a bit less to his liking although he did appreciate the athleticism of all the dancers but he had managed to stay away from the opera imagining it to be nothing more than fat people screaming in a language he didn't understand.

Rain being Rain refused to let up and, when the Proctor's Theater advertised that Beethoven's Fidelio was coming, she bought matinee tickets and made a date with her husband. When she asked him out on the date giving him flowers and a box of candy along with the invitation, he couldn't say no; she was just too cute.

So, not wanting to be completely lost during the performance he had mentioned his upcoming plans to Ezra who offered to lend him "a CD of an exceptional performance" to help familiarize him with the music. Nathan had been listening to it all week, in his car, at his desk, disguising it as a CD of a medical conference presentation, not wanting the others to rib him about 'becoming cultured.'

The more he listened, however, the more he began to understand the subtext and now watching the drama unfold he found that he was drawn into the emotion and time ran away. He was amazed when the curtain came down, the lights came up and people started rising and moving towards the exits.

He looked at Rain and found her gazing at the program which had full color photos of all the lead singers and little bios on them. He had been particularly amazed at the fabulous tenor who had sung Florestan's part and as he peeked at the program he saw that was the singer that Rain was reading up on.

Feeling him move closer Rain looked up and saw Nathan trying to read the program so she obligingly moved it closer to share between them.

"Nathan, look at his picture, with those blue eyes, and the long hair he wore for his part as a prisoner, he looks so like Vin, even his name, Vincent. They say when he returns to his home town he is greeted with a parade and cheers of "Vin, Vin, Vin" he is so adored."

Nathan looked at the picture and, noting the similarity, he laughed out loud, "We could use this to tease Vin or better yet, blackmail him the next time he thinks up some trick to pull on either of us, can you imagine if I posted copies of this all around the shooting range and let it be known that our crack sharpshooter is also a famed operatic performer."

They left the theater laughing and were still laughing about the thought of having something to rein in the team's practical joker when Nathan dropped Rain off for her shift at the hospital. Reminding him that she had someone arranged to bring her home after her shift ended at midnight she kissed him good bye and dashed into the hospital dodging the raindrops.

Nathan decided to return Ezra's CD to him and tell him about the performance so he turned onto the expressway to get out of the downtown area and headed towards Ezra's. As he drove through the steadily falling rain he saw lights flashing ahead and realized a traffic sign had a message posted, as he got closer the read the message not thinking much about it.

FLORESTAN AVENUNE – TROUBLE

Nathan didn't know where Florestan Avenue was so he quickly dismissed the message. Another mile on another sign was lit up as he approached it and as he got within reading distance he noted the message:

FLORESTAN AVENUE – TROUBLE

As he was getting close to the turnoff to Ezra's neighborhood he had only a moment to think that that was an odd message to display, why not name the 'trouble' that would be more helpful to motorists, he gave the name, Florestan, only a passing thought as he reflected on the amazing coincidences in life.

Flicking on his signal he took the exit and made the series of turns that brought him to Ezra's home. Parking his car he grabbed the CD and then dashed to the covered entrance way and pressed the bell for Ezra's place and waited.

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Waiting was something he was good at, normally. Snipers need to have patience and discipline, need to be able to wait until the right moment presents, need to be able to wait for long periods of time, on the razor's edge of action and then be able to turn it all off and stand down having never been called into the final act.

Now, however, the waiting was something Vin was increasingly struggling with. He had been waiting, hoping for a return of some strength to his body, waiting for a diminishing of the constant throbbing pain in his body so that he could move on into phase two which was to include standing up and beginning the climb back up the stairwell.

Deciding that waiting was taking too long and that it was time for action Vin decided to make a move. Bending his legs, gasping for air as the movement awoke fresh agony in his thigh, and pushing off of his right arm Vin managed to push up off the ground until he was in a sitting position.

Sharp daggers of pain pulsed in his head and collarbone but he gritted his teeth determined to ignore them long enough to maneuver his body until he was leaning against the wall. Having accomplished that he decided that phase two was now complete and that phase three would now be the part where he stood up and began the climb up the stairs.

Resting his head against the concrete wall he shifted slightly trying to find a more comfortable position. Clutching his left arm to his chest with his right he felt some of the tension on his collarbone ease.

Chris, sure could use your help right about now, Vin thought and tried to imagine what Chris was doing right now out at the ranch. Usually Vin was able to clearly picture the ranch, the horses, Chris working but this time as he tried he found his thoughts muddled and chaotic as if a whirlwind was stirring them up.

Deciding it best to rest a moment or two to gather his strength before beginning the trek up the stairs and out of the concrete confines that had obviously messed with his cell phone reception Vin went back to what he had been doing and waited.