The Gemini Man
Chapter 2
Chris's eyes opened groggily. His eyelids felt like they weighed 10 pounds each. Around him were the sounds of hums and beeps, some rhythmic, some not. There were muffled voices in the distance. He tried to move but found he couldn't. It was as if his body was floating, free of sensation. He wanted to call out but there was something in his mouth. It seemed to disappear down his throat but he couldn't feel it. And all around him, tubes and tape and machines and plastic pouches of liquid.
As consciousness slowly returned, he began to feel afraid. What had happened to him? Where was he? Why couldn't he move or feel anything? The beeping nearest him sped up its rhythm, as if charting his rising panic.
"Good evening," a voice drawled gently near him. He tried to focus his eyes on the fuzzy shape that was getting closer.
Ezra. It was Ezra. He was near enough now that, even in Chris's drugged state, he could see the mix of concern and relief in the undercover agent's face.
"You can probably guess you're in St. Sebastian's ICU," he continued calmly and slowly. "You've been very ill, Chris. You still are, but the doctors and nurses are taking exemplary care of you." Ezra put his hand on Chris's forearm, applying a gentle, reassuring pressure. "You were brought in yesterday morning. Sunday. You've also had some temporary surgery to allow your body to get well. You're going to be uncomfortable for awhile, but eventually you're going to be just fine. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
Chris closed his eyes and nodded slightly. Images flashed briefly through his brain. A face. A familiar face. A face he thought he wanted to see and yet it made him feel afraid.
Vin looked around the familiar house. His headache had not gotten any worse but just being here brought on a crushing pressure in his chest. This was where it had all happened and it frustrated him that he still couldn't remember anything. He moved woodenly to the bedroom.
The bed was unmade, the sheets badly rumpled. Packaging from emergency supplies still lay discarded on the bedroom floor. Vin bent and slowly, gingerly, gathered them up and discarded them in the bathroom wastebasket.
He stared at the bed a moment, his head feeling almost puffy inside, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed, lying on his stomach. He could still smell Chris faintly in the sheets, but it was unmistakably Chris. He drifted off to sleep there, with the familiar, musky scent of the man he still loved filling his senses.
Chris was in bed, Vin beside him. The brunet agent was gently rubbing and stroking Chris's naked body, and it was feeling so good. Chris's languid calm was slowly being replaced by a gradually increasing feeling of desire.
Chris rolled onto his stomach, his rigid sex pressing against his flat belly. The heat rushing into his shaft increased rapidly and he could tell he was beginning to leak.
"I want ya, Chris."
Vin's hands roamed slowly down his back, and Chris turned to look over his shoulder at Vin. To his horror, the hands touching him had long, curving claws that ripped into his tender flesh even as he screamed and screamed.
"Need some help here!" called Buck. A nurse from the morning shift hurried into the room in response to his call. "Can you do something for 'im?"
Chris was thrashing weakly, clearly agitated and in danger of injuring himself among the tubes and needles connected to his body. One IV needle had already pulled loose and the hole in Chris's arm was bleeding steadily.
Buck watched them work, an ache in the pit of his stomach, as his friend suffered alone through a torturous nightmare. The drugs that were already being administered only made it that much harder for Chris to awaken. Seeing him like this made Buck sad and angry at the same time.
He felt as if somehow he'd let Chris down. He couldn't explain it or how he thought he could've prevented what happened. He only knew that, as Chris's friend, he'd done a piss-poor job of protecting him from needless suffering over the years.
But how could anyone have foreseen the...unusual relationship...between Chris and Vin? And then, how could anyone have protected the terrible outcome? He was still angry at Vin for causing all this, but he was less inclined to strangle him now.
He sighed tiredly. The doctors had assured them that Chris was going to get better. Physically, he probably was. But they couldn't know if he'd really heal psychologically. Well, this time, Buck resolved, he would be there for his old friend to help his healing along, whether Chris welcomed that or not.
Vin lay in bed, feeling Chris's silky-warm, bare skin against his back. He shifted with a contented sigh. It had all been some terrible nightmare.
"I love you. I trust you," whispered Chris.
Vin smiled and rolled over onto his other side to greet his lover when he stopped, a shriek caught in his throat. The dull, expressionless eyes of Chris's corpse stared back at him. Vin backed away, his eyes riveted on the dead man's face.
Buck was standing by the bed, watching them both. "YOU killed him," he said, pointing an accusing finger.
Vin shook his head. "No! NO!-" He looked around him in panic. Josiah was standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed.
"Josiah! Tell him I didn't-"
Josiah shook his head calmly. "Can't help ya, Vin. He trusted you - loved you - and look where it got him."
"NO!"
Vin sat up abruptly, breathing hard, his body covered with sweat and his heart hammering in his chest. He rubbed his eyes as Josiah melted away. Vin looked around him. He was in Chris's room, in Chris's bed.
And Chris was in the hospital. He needed to see him. He didn't care if any of the others were there or not. He cared about Chris as much as they did and he had never stopped caring. Dammit, he belonged there, too - no matter what the others might be thinking now - and he was going, even if he had to fight his way in.
The following day, three of the team sat around the office. It was Josiah's turn to sit with Chris. They had decided to do it in shifts. Despite the fact that they were in the office, little investigative work got done that day. Four minds were focused on the same thing: Chris and Vin.
Ezra arrived, late as usual. He saw the unspoken question in their eyes.
"He's awake, but he's pretty well sedated. He seems to understand what's going on around him, though."
"That's good, right?" asked JD.
Nathan smiled. "As good as we're gonna get, right now."
Buck was sitting straight up in a chair, his head tilted back against the wall. "I never said anythin' to either one of 'em about that 'relationship' o' theirs," he said quietly to no one in particular. "All I did was warn Chris early on about the...professional risks." He sighed heavily. "But he said he loves 'im and I could tell it was agency-be-damned, he was gonna do what he was gonna do. Now look at 'im. Maybe I shoulda spoke up after all..."
JD shook his head. "You know Chris. It wouldn't have mattered."
"So what do we do now?" Ezra looked around at the others.
"I think that depends on Chris," Nathan replied. "We'll have to wait and see how he feels about Vin after this."
Vin walked silently through the hospital, ignoring the bustle and sounds around him. There it was, just ahead. ICU. He saw Josiah step into the hall and stretch. Vin quickly ducked around a corner and waited, watching as Josiah turned in the direction of the hospital cafeteria. Certain Josiah had gone, he continued down the hall to the ICU. And to Chris.
Chris Larabee looked so pale and still. Surrounded by machines, he appeared fragile, too, as if he were made of glass. A ventilator was in his mouth. There were IVs of painkillers and antibiotics. A machine near him monitored his heart rate.
There were two nurses by Chris's bed. One moved around methodically checking each of the machines and comparing them to a chart in her hand. Vin had seen her around, when he or one of the others had found themselves a patient at St. Sebastian's. He only knew her as Anne but she seemed very nice.
He'd heard the other nurses call the second one Winnie. It must be Chris's stoma nurse, he reasoned. Even still, Vin felt a sudden chill as he watched Winnie pull back the sheet, revealing the colostomy bag attached to Chris. He watched, transfixed, as she expertly changed the bag with quick, gentle fingers.
Chris's eyes slivered open at her, and then closed again.
Vin stood there, unable to move. Had he really done this to Chris? Had he really caused so much suffering?
Anne, finished with her tasks, started to pass him in the doorway.
"How is he?" Vin asked quietly.
"He's doing well. We've already started weaning him off the ventilator, and we'll be able to move him out of ICU soon."
"Thanks."
"Winnie's almost through. If you want to visit with him, I'd suggest keeping it brief. He's still sedated."
He looked at Chris, then back at her. "No, I-I don't think so."
"You're sure?" she said with a gentle smile. "Maybe if you come back tomorrow-"
One of the machines began to beep quickly. Vin and Anne turned to look. Chris's eyes were open. He was staring at Vin and trying to move on the bed, inadvertently pulling on his IVs. Anne hurried to his side to try to calm him down.
"I'd better go," Vin said to her. He turned and headed down the hall, almost running in his attempt to escape the scene of the injured and panicked man on the bed who had nearly reinjured himself trying to escape his tormentor.
Vin bolted through the doors to the parking lot. He stopped and doubled over, hands on his knees, drawing in great gulps of air and trying to ignore the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.
God, what had he done?
"So you saw him."
Vin looked up, startled. "Shit, Josiah, do you always have to do that?"
"Figured you'd show up eventually." Josiah was holding a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. Now he held one out to Vin. The sharpshooter looked at him uncertainly. "It's the way you like it. Cream and plenty of sugar."
Vin took the hot styrofoam cup from him with a wan smile of thanks. Josiah glanced around them, then led Vin over to a weathered picnic table several yards back from the hospital entrance. Josiah sat on the bench and lit a cigarette, and Vin climbed up and sat on the tabletop, surveying the parking lot and feeling the soft, spring breeze through his hair. He turned the cup in his hands without drinking from it.
"So you saw him," Josiah said in an attempt at conversation.
"He looks awful."
Josiah smiled. "Don't let him hear you say that."
Vin forced a small smile, then, just as quickly, it was gone. "I can't get close enough to him to say anythin'. He panicked at the sight o' me. Like...like I was gonna hurt 'im right there in the hospital..." He shook his head, his voice charged with raw emotion. "Even pumped full o' sedatives, he's still afraid of me..."
"Vin-"
"You don't know what it's like...to see a look like that in the eyes of someone...someone you love...and to know it's you what put that look there. Hurts worse'n bein' gut-shot."
Josiah took a long, thoughtful drag on his cigarette. "You can't blame yourself." He looked at Vin as he spoke. "Chris is where he is because he loves you. Nathan told him to see a doctor but he wouldn't - because he didn't want to get you into any trouble. When they finally brought him in here, he refused to tell anyone what really happened." He saw the stricken look in the young man's eyes. "Oh, they know, I'm sure, but unless Chris says something, there's not much they can do about it except treat his injuries." The big man moved up to sit next to Vin. He wrapped one bear-like arm around his shoulders. "He needs time, Vin. He needs time for his body to heal, and he needs time to sort out his emotions. So do you."
"And then what?"
"Why don't we wait till Chris is out of the hospital..."
"Maybe it's too late already," Vin muttered miserably.
"'Long as there's a chance in heaven," Josiah assured him softly, "it ain't too late."
"Ezra!"
The agent froze and turned slowly at the familiar voice. A wide, car-salesman smile spread across his face.
"Yes, Mr. Travis?"
"I'd like to talk to you. In my office..."
Ezra followed him into the large office and watched as Orrin Travis closed the door.
"If this is about my last expense report, I can explain that. I didn't know it was a gentlemen's club until after-"
Travis held up one hand. "I want to talk to you about Chris Larabee. I understand he's still in the hospital."
"Yes, sir, he's been ill."
"Ill? Or injured?"
"I wasn't there and I'm not a doctor."
"Perhaps I should talk to Vin Tanner."
Ezra studied him carefully. How much did Travis really know? The agency certainly would frown on Chris's "special" relationship with someone he also supervised. Add to that the fact that Chris had been sexually assaulted and that would end any law enforcement career Vin would ever have, too.
"Vin's on leave, isn't he?" Ezra reminded him.
Travis eyed him suspiciously. "Indeed."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't be much help. May I go now?"
Travis nodded and Ezra opened the door and started out. "We'll talk about your expense report later."
Ezra's smile faltered for only an instant. "Of course."
It had been a few days since Vin's visit to St. Sebastian's ICU but whether it had been two, three or four, Vin was no longer sure. All he knew was that the bottle was nearly empty and he didn't feel like trying to get up off the sofa to go out and get more.
He stretched out across the cushions and finished off the last of it, feeling it burn its way down his throat and spread a warmth throughout his belly. He scowled and dropped the bottle onto the floor.
He'd been at it for what seemed like...Hours? Days? And the pain never seemed to go away. It dulled a bit for awhile, but hours later, it'd come back full-force, accompanied by horrific nightmares of an event he couldn't remember, try though he might.
There was a soft knock on his door.
"G'way!" he slurred.
The last thing he needed right now was company. Whoever it was ignored the order and came in. Vin rolled onto his side, turning his back so that whoever had come in would take the hint and leave.
"Tsk, tsk. Look at you."
Vin's head turned, and he squinted over his shoulder.
"Jared?" Vin sat up and looked at him. "How'd you know...where I live...?"
Jared's expression was serious. "You dropped your wallet at the party. Lucky for you I found it and returned it to you. Don't you remember?"
Vin shook his head, instantly sorry he had, as his brain came loose of its moorings and rattled around his skull.
Jared managed a laugh. "If you were as bad then as you look now, it's no wonder."
"Whaddya want?"
Vin clumsily picked up the empty bottle and tried to set it on the coffee table. Jared rushed closer to help him.
Jared shrugged. "Wanted to see how you're doing. You were pretty shook up last time I saw you. You never did tell me what happened."
"Chrish ish in the hosh-hospital."
With a cluck of sympathy, the mousy young man moved quickly to sit beside him on the sofa.
"That's rough. Is he going to be all right?" Vin nodded. "Are you going to be all right?"
"I dunno. Wha' happened between me an' him...It's pretty bad..."
Jared put an arm around him. "So you keep saying. Well, if you need someone to talk to, or you don't want to be alone, you know where to come."
Vin nodded, feeling sleepy from all the whiskey. "Yer a good friend, Jared," he muttered as Jared helped him stretch out on the sofa again. He barely heard the young man's soft whisper.
"I could be so much more."
Chris awoke slowly. Idly, a part of his mind wondered what day it was, hell, what time it was, but at the same time he didn't much care. His body felt disconnected from his brain, like it belonged to someone else. He wasn't in any pain that he was aware of, but he felt a deep lethargy that settled in the core of his bones. There were fewer tubes and machines, and the ventilator tube down his throat had been removed. He'd tried to move but there were still things pulling on him whichever way he went, so at last he gave up and laid there, exhausted from the effort.
The last time he'd been awake - at least enough to have some idea of where he was - he was in ICU. Looking around him now, despite his somewhat blurred vision, he could see he was in a private room. He'd have to thank his team later for arranging that...if he remembered.
His team.
He dimly remembered a series of concerned, familiar faces in the room with him. And one in particular. The one he most wanted to see and the one that most frightened him. He shut his eyes, trying to shut out Vin's words as they reverberated through his brain.
'Couldn't you get a young guy to sleep with you any other way? I didn't NEED to be with you! And I don't need you NOW!'
Chris wanted to believe it was just a bad dream, the result of the drugs. He wanted Vin to be here telling him that it hadn't really happened. But if that was the case, he wouldn't be here now. He shivered involuntarily as the...rape - he still hadn't fully accepted it as such - played itself out in a series of flashbacks. The pain of hitting his head. The even worse pain when he was forcibly violated by the man he most loved and trusted. Pain that increased with every brutal thrust. And the pain in his soul that refused to go away.
His vision had finally cleared enough to observe the two men in the room with him. Visiting hours must have just started. Buck was in a chair, completely absorbed in a magazine. The outside was a copy of U.S. News and World Report, but Chris knew what was concealed inside. Well, generally, he did. Specifically, he couldn't be sure if it was Playboy or Penthouse. JD was reading what was probably a spy thriller. Neither had noticed he was awake yet, but it wouldn't take long. He tried to look like he was still asleep but the effort came to an abrupt end when his stoma nurse returned.
"Good morning, Chris," smiled Winnie. She nodded at his familiar visitors. "Boys."
"Is it time for that already," he grumbled in a weak, raspy voice.
"Now, now," she chided gently. "You wouldn't want me to neglect my favorite patient, would you?"
"I thought I was your favorite," smiled Buck.
She looked at him. "You've never been a patient of mine, Mr. Wilmington, but from what I hear, you're not someone I'd want as my patient when it's time for a catheter."
Buck's mustache drooped, his smile fading while JD held back a smirk. Winnie turned her attention back to Chris. "I'm sure your friends will give you a few minutes' privacy while we do this."
JD stuffed his book into his back pocket. "Buck, I could sure use some morning coffee, couldn't you?"
"You call that muddy water 'coffee'? Why, that swill-Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I could do with some...'coffee'." He sighed and followed JD out of the room.
Winnie picked up the edge of the sheet. "Ready?"
Chris turned away in resignation, without another word. He hated to watch her change the bag attached to his colostomy appliance. He hated knowing what it was and why it was there. It made him feel mutilated somehow. She was right, though. If she had to change the thing, he'd rather she did it before one of his team arrived. He knew they must have all seen it by now, but it didn't change how he felt about it.
Winnie smiled. "Anne says you've improved quite a bit. You'll probably be going home soon." She paused. "Chris...you really should watch me do this. You're going to have do it yourself soon."
He turned back to look at her, a stricken look on his face. "For how long?"
"Oh, not long," she reassured him. "Your reversal surgery may even be scheduled before you're released. Now, will you pay attention while I do this?"
He looked at her a moment, then nodded slightly. If it meant going home, he'd do anything she asked him to.
When she was done, she smiled at him again. "There. That wasn't so bad." She patted his chest gently. "You did fine. I'll be back later."
He watched her go, suddenly feeling very tired. He closed his eyes, but it wasn't long before he had another visitor.
A young man had walked into his room and he was carrying a bouquet of cut flowers in a small glass vase.
"'Get well' wishes, Mr. Larabee...from your friends. I'll just put them over on this table."
Chris watched him disinterestedly. Probably from the team. Or maybe Travis. He'd ask someone to read him the card later. The young man moved closer to the bed.
"There was something else for you, too," he said softly. He reached out and snatched away the call button. "Tsk, tsk. This little gift is just for you alone.".
There was a sudden jab into the blond's arm, near his IV. His eyes widened and the mousy young man smiled mirthlessly.
Chris struggled to move, to call for help, but his muscles were refusing to obey. The visitor stepped back to stare at Chris, watching him, clearly enjoying himself.
Chris's pulse was suddenly racing and tremors rippled through his entire body as he tried to get out of bed. His stomach clenched with nausea . The tremors gave way to convulsions, and he found himself struggling to breathe. He barely saw his tormentor walk quickly out of the room.
"We should've got something for Chris."
Buck shook his head. "What could we have brought him that'd been any better than what they bring him on a tray? It's the same stuff, JD. Green rubber that passes for Jell-O and this...cup o' iodine you insisted on."
"You don't have to drink it."
"Yes, I do," said Buck as they turned down the hall to Chris's room. "I was up all night with Vicki and I need the caffeine."
"Vicki again? I thought she was too wild for you," said JD, trying not to spill his own coffee as he edged past a mousy-looking young man in a delivery uniform.
"Son," Buck continued, "Ain't no woman too wild for ol' Buck here."
They froze in the doorway, coffee cups dropped to the floor. Chris was convulsing in the bed and rapidly turning blue.
"Help! We got a Code Blue in here!" shouted JD. Doctors and nurses seemed to pour into the room from every part of the corridor.
Anne ran up to the two men. "I'm sorry, boys, but you'll have to go now."
JD was the first to recover. He pulled Buck's arm. "C'mon. We gotta let the others know what happened."
Buck stared at him, open-mouthed. "What DID happen?"
It was hours before the five men were assured that Chris was stable in ICU, hours that moved so slowly that they seemed to be standing still.
"When can we see him," Nathan had asked.
"Maybe tomorrow," Anne suggested. "We're still trying to find out how he got so much lidocaine into his system. That coupled with his other medications...He's very lucky. After thirty minutes, there's not much we could have done. But he survived the first hour, so it's likely he'll recover. You can talk to his doctor later, if you'd like."
"Thanks, ma'am."
"He was supposed to be going home," Buck muttered sadly to no one in particular.
Josiah squeezed his shoulder. "He will. Just not today, and not tomorrow."
"We only left him for a minute. What could've happened?"
Ezra stood up with a sigh. "I think it must be someone's mission in life to find the most uncomfortable chairs possible for a waiting room. Perhaps a descendant of the de Sade family..." He started to stroll the hall a little, when he passed a candy striper carrying flowers to a shelf near Chris's bed.
The undercover agent looked at them quizzically. "Where did those come from?" he asked her.
"They were in his room. I thought he might like to have them in here so he can see them when he wakes up."
"Really," Ezra said, bemused. "May I look at those?"
Vin fidgeted nervously in the cafeteria. This place was getting to be a habit and he hated it now more than he ever had. But he couldn't go to ICU. The whole team would be there. It wasn't that he was afraid of Buck. Far from it. He just didn't want them creating any trouble for the staff with his presence. He looked at the untouched meal in front of him and idly twirled a spoon in his fingers. The phone call of a few hours ago continued to play over and over in his head.
"Something's happened and Chris is critical. Wait for me in St. Seb's cafeteria." Click.
He stared out the window, trying to think about something else, but his brain wouldn't let him.
"Are you going to eat any of that?"
Vin looked up in surprise as Ezra took the seat across from him.
"Took you long enough," the sharpshooter said dourly. "What the hell happened?"
Ezra picked up a muffin from the tray and began to butter it. "Right now the indication is some kind of overdose of a local anesthetic, possibly lidocaine."
"How in the hell did that happen?"
Ezra shook his head and swallowed. "No one knows yet."
"He was supposed to go home, too," Vin said sadly. "I know how much he hates hospitals. Even when he's not a patient."
"It happened just after his flowers arrived. I removed the card before Buck saw it." Ezra took another bite of the muffin.
"Flowers? From who?"
Ezra stopped in mid-chew and stared at him, wide-eyed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, white envelope, and handed it to Vin.
Vin looked at him, then carefully opened it. His fingers shook slightly and his jaw clenched as he silently read the short, handwritten message inside.
"Best wishes for a speedy recovery. Jared and Vin."
Vin pounded angrily on the door.
"Jared! I know you're in there!"
The door opened and the young man stood there, blinking at him. "Isn't it a little late?" He looked at Vin with concern. "Did something happen to the-to Chris?"
Vin pushed past him and strode into the apartment. "He's in ICU. Don't you know? You were there." He pulled out the card in his jacket pocket and held it up. Jared looked at it, his face expressionless.
"I sent him flowers. What about it? I did you a favor. I should think you'd be grateful," he sniffed.
"You don't even know him!" Vin took a step toward him. "But I know all about them flowers. Ezra told me. Those particular ones are for REMEMBRANCE. They're used in funerals."
Jared shrugged. "So I can't pick out flowers."
"What else did you do?" Vin sprang at him, the front of Jared's shirt wadded up in his fist.
Jared's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean 'what else?' What are you accusing me of? You'd better be able to prove I did anything other than be a nice guy and send someone some flowers..."
"If I find out that you had anything to do with why he's still in the hospital-"
"ME?" Jared said hotly, as if stung. "YOU'RE the one that put him there!"
Vin inwardly recoiled at the verbal slap. The two men stared at each other furiously. Finally, Vin released him and turned to go, saying in a low, dangerous voice, "Just keep away from him."
Someone was after Chris and he was trying desperately to escape. He couldn't be sure who it was because the face kept changing between that of his attacker and that of Vin. Neither face, though, was entirely clear and that was partly what frightened him. He tried to run, turning down this corridor - where was he? A hospital? - and down that corridor. He was screaming for help but the halls were deserted. He no longer heard the footsteps of his pursuer as he turned a corner. There was a stabbing pain in his gut and he fought as hard as he could. He could feel his body weakening...
"Chris! Chris, wake up!" a feminine voice urged him gently. "C'mon, Chris, turn over. You're laying on your appliance...C'mon, I'll help you..." It was his nurse, Anne, and she was gently but firmly helping him to turn from his side to his back.
She smiled gently. "Bad dream?" He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" Chris didn't respond. She stroked a stray lock of his hair. "You gave everyone quite a scare but it looks like you're getting much better. The doctor's going to release you tomorrow. Your friends are here right now along with hospital security. Do you feel up to describing the man who was in your room?"
Chris nodded. He wanted to get it over with. Realistically, he doubted he could be much help, though. He couldn't remember too many details. It had happened quickly and he had been medicated already.
He closed his eyes and sighed as Josiah, Nathan and a hospital security officer entered the room.
That afternoon, five of Team 7 had gathered at the office.
"This is the description," said Josiah. "It's not very detailed, but Chris did the best he could."
"I just talked to Anne," added Nathan. "He's still improving, so he may be able to go home soon after all."
"Where do we start?" JD asked.
Josiah shook his head. "It's like a needle in a haystack right now. Chris indicated he'd never seen the man before, but since he called Chris by name, we can be sure it wasn't a random attack."
"Then we start with the files?"
Nathan nodded. "It's a start. How about you, Ezra? Any ideas?"
"Not yet." Ezra wanted to tell them about the card, but he still wasn't sure how deeply implicated it would make Vin. He had decided to wait and see if the team really needed to know about it.
The men were going through the files with such deep concentration, they didn't hear anyone come in.
"Excuse me?" A dark, slightly-built, Hispanic-looking young man stood in the doorway. "Is Vin Tanner here?"
"No, he's not," Nathan replied.
The young man licked his lips, his eyes darting around the office. "Why not?" the man blurted suddenly. "Did something happen?"
Ezra's eyes narrowed slightly. "What makes you say that?"
"Just..." The man shifted from foot to foot.
"Sit down," Josiah said gently. "I'm Josiah Sanchez. And you are...?
"My name's Marco. I used to live with an ex-roommate of Vin's."
The five men moved closer, watching him intently.
Ezra sat on a corner of the desk. "Please go on."
Marco sat. "Can I have some water?" JD quickly handed him a cup and he sipped it, still nervous under the five pairs of staring eyes. "DID something happen?"
"Yes," said Josiah, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Something did. But you knew that."
Marco shook his head. "I thought so. Jared Graham-that's my ex-roommate-he's kind of, well, odd." The words came out in a rush. "I mean, he seemed okay at first, you know? Really nice guy, always trying to do you a favor. But he's obsessed. It was always 'Vin this' and 'Vin that'. I thought they'd been...like...you know...lovers or something...and that was some ungrateful asshole who'd dumped him. Until I got to know Jared better and then I met Vin and thought 'there's no way this guy would go for Jared.' Jared, he's real clingy. He was getting like that with me. Like we had some kind of relationship. I just moved out."
"What does this have to do with something happening?" asked Josiah.
Marco looked at him. "He's been talking about Vin ever since a party I had just before I moved out. Vin was there and Jared...I think Jared's been...this is gonna sound weird, I know...but I think Jared's been stalking him or something. He's really pissed about some guy named Chris..."
Nathan handed him the description. "Is this him?"
Marco nodded. "Sounds like him. He didn't hurt nobody, did he? I'm not too late?"
"No," Josiah said gently. "You're just in time. Here." He handed the young man a card, "Write down your phone number in case we need to contact you and Jared's address. And take my card."
Marco put it in his pocket. "I'll put it in my wallet as soon as I get a new one."
"Oh?" Ezra looked at him. "What happened to your wallet?"
"Stupid thing. I lost it a week ago before taking a few days off to move. Now that I'm going back to work, I'll need that and a photo ID, too. The lab won't let me in without it."
"Lab?"
"I'm a lab assistant," the young man explained. "Pharmaceuticals. Doesn't pay much at entry level, which is why I had a roommate. But after Jared-hell, I can give up eating if it means I don't have to live with him." He stood up and started out of the office. "Keep an eye on Vin, right? He seems like a nice guy."
"We will. Thanks."
The next morning, Vin awoke to feel his cell phone vibrating against his hip. He cursed at his stiff muscles as he sat up in the chair in his living room. He had fallen asleep in front of the TV. He quickly clicked the remote as he answered the phone. The last thing he'd heard was that Chris had moved back into a room and out of ICU. His hand shook slightly as he pressed the button on the phone.
"Chris is going home today," said Ezra. "Buck's taking him home. And we've got an ID."
"Jared?" Vin's grip tightened on the phone until his knuckles went white as Ezra recounted Marco's visit..
"He's disappeared, Vin."
Vin's grip didn't relax. "He'll show up. Sooner or later. Thanks, Ezra."
The two finished their call and Vin rubbed a hand through his hair. This whole thing, it was all his fault. He has brought this on. Him and his former association with Jared. He almost couldn't bear the thought of bringing so much suffering onto the one man he loved in all the world. He wanted...he wanted to just disappear, to leave, to...die. He sighed wearily and sat in front of his computer, staring blankly at the screen.
It was the first rest Buck had had in what seemed like ages. He knew he needed it, and had only agreed to do so when he realized that collapsing in exhaustion wouldn't help Chris or the team, who had spent the evening searching for Jared. He'd slept like a dead man most of the night, finally awakened by JD, who'd been home for the night and was already headed back out to join the search.
Buck had wanted to join him, but Nathan made him promise to give it a few hours more. Just a FEW, as far as Buck was concerned. But first he had to take Chris home from the hospital. He knew his friend would be tired and downright antisocial, but it was still a task he was looking forward to.
Now he was sprawled on the sofa, a bottle of beer in hand despite the fact that it wasn't yet noon, and staring unseeingly at the TV. How had things gone so horribly wrong? Chris was like a brother to him; the kind that could be stubborn and irritatingly independent, sometimes disappearing off the face of the earth, but still, he was like family. Just like Sarah had been. Just like Adam. Just like Vin? He wasn't sure. He hadn't known Vin long, but Chris trusted him and that said a lot. And then the relationship between Chris and Vin went in a whole new direction. It wasn't something Buck could ever embrace, but if it eased the painful loneliness, if it made Chris happy, what could he do? After the man had suffered so much, how could he say anything?
Did Chris really love Vin that much? Enough to cover for him when he had not only betrayed Chris's trust, but he had committed a crime, too?
He sipped his beer thoughtfully. Suddenly a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"When did you start watchin' Martha Stewart?"
Buck scowled but continued to face the TV. "Didn't hear you knock, Tanner."
"Probably 'cause I didn't."
"What do you want? Whatever it is, it better take less time than it'd take for me to strangle you."
"Don't worry." Vin approached him and held out a folded piece of paper.
Buck set his beer down on the coffee table to take it from him. "What's this?"
"You're the acting head of the team, right? It's...I'm resignin'...Here's my keys...cell phone...ID..." He emptied his pockets onto the coffee table and looked at Buck. Buck was fingering the letter, but had made no move to unfold it. "Ain't you gonna-"
"I know what it says. It says you quit." Buck sipped his beer. "Probably best for all concerned."
Vin shifted awkwardly. "Yeah," he agreed quietly and turned to go.
"Close the door behind you, or all kinds of folks'll wander in..."
Buck heard the door close softly. Angrily, he wadded the paper up into a tight ball and flung it across the room. He rubbed his face with a tired sigh.
Yes, everything had gone horribly wrong, all right. Giving up on the idea of a nap, he stood and stretched his lanky frame. It was time to take Chris home.
Vin spent the day driving slowly through his old neighborhood, trying to guess where Jared would be. Jared's life was molded by whoever he lived with. He adopted their hangouts as his own. That meant no discernable pattern. And with few friends, Jared could be almost anywhere.
Now that he was off the team, he had all the time a man could need when he was searching for something he wanted to find very badly. And Vin wanted to find Jared very badly indeed.
For Chris, the late afternoon ride home was a blur. He said nothing, just looked expressionlessly out the window. Buck had tried to engage him in conversation a few times, finally giving up and turning on the car radio.
"Home, sweet home," he announced at last as the car turned up the long driveway.
Chris frowned. It was home, all right, but it didn't feel like home. He looked at it with a sort of detachment as if the property belonged to someone else. The place had changed. It looked the same, but the sense of safety and security was gone. Maybe forever.
Buck rushed over to open the passenger door.
"I can do it," Chris snapped. He didn't mean to, but he'd had enough of that sort of thing in the hospital. He'd be damned if anyone was going to do that to him in his own home.
Chris's knees felt shaky as he walked up the walkway. He opened the door and a rush of stale air greeted him. He hesitated, a momentary chill of fear settling in his bones. He shivered slightly and continued into the house, Buck close behind carrying a pillowcase of Chris's things from his hospital stay that he quickly set down near the kitchen.
"JD and Ezra kept the place clean for ya," he told him.
Chris looked around him. "You'll have to thank them for me," he said in a dull, flat voice.
Buck noted the sweat that had started to bead on Chris's forehead.
"You oughta lie down." He glanced at Chris's hip. "You...uh...need help with that thing?"
"No." Chris's tone was sharp. Instantly, he softened. "No, thanks. I just...just need to lie down, like you said."
Buck followed him to the bedroom. Chris froze in the doorway. The bed had been neatly made. There was no sign of the fight that had happened here. Or the rape.
'Can't you get a young guy to sleep with you any other way?...I don't NEED you, now!'
Chris closed his eyes, his body swayed slightly.
"Chris?" Strong hands supported him as the sheets and blanket were pulled back, and then the same hands helped him sit on the bed. He didn't move as Buck gently, quickly undressed him. "I usually save this skill for ladies," he smiled, "but seein' as how you're a friend..."
Chris watched Buck's face as the colostomy bag was revealed. Buck's eyes glanced at it only for a split-second and he continued with his task, talking all the while. "You been in the hospital, so you don't know, but Ezra got himself this new filly? Name's Melissa. Cute li'l thing...He doesn't know we all know about her yet. We're tryin' to figger out how we're gonna let on that we know about her..." He lifted the sheets. "There ya go, now why don't you just stretch out here..."
Chris obediently slid his legs under the bedcovers. "Thanks, Buck," he said at last.
"Jes' glad t' have ya back. Now I'm gonna go watch a little o' that big-screen TV of yours while you fall asleep and then I'll let myself out. That okay with you?"
"Works for me," Chris yawned. "But I oughta take my meds first. Especially the painkillers. Don't forget the painkillers..." his voice trailed off.
Buck left him there to get some water and Chris's pills from the kitchen. He cursed, as he dug deep inside the pillowcase trying to grasp each of the elusive pill bottles. He pulled out a glass, and paused, wondering if he should add ice. Nah, Chris would be asleep soon anyway. He filled the glass and started back to the bedroom.
What he saw made him stop in the doorway, an icy hand gripping his heart. Chris was curled up in a fetal position, hugging his knees and shaking violently.
"Chris?" Buck rushed to his side.
"I c-c-can't sleep here," he said though chattering teeth. "Pl-please, Buck. I can't...I just...I just can't." Chris started to cry softly.
Buck suppressed a shudder. Damn that Vin Tanner! Buck had never seen Chris like this: the panic in his eyes, the fear and helplessness that physically manifested themselves in the lean fragile-looking body. He pulled Chris to him and held on despite the man's weak struggles.
"You don't have to," he said softly. "If you really don't wanna be here, we'll find someplace else for now." Buck continued to hold him until the trembling in Chris's body stopped. Where the hell would he take him? There was barely enough room for him and JD, and he sure as hell couldn't take him to Vin's. Then he got an idea.
"Chris, I know a place." He retrieved Chris's suitcase from the closet and began to pack it as fast as he could. "Quiet, remote. Real pretty view. You'll like it. It's a little bit o' heaven."