Tragic Miscommunication
Disclaimer—they're not mine, I didn't steal them! *Mumble just...borrowed them...without permission...mumble* - No profit other than happiness gained—
Okay – So I've had to repost this...not fun...Sorry if you've already read...but maybe you'll enjoy a re-read?
A/n—First of all I want to say a HUGE thank-you to all those who reviewed this newest flight of fancy... I'm absolutely stunned at the reception it received and gobsmacked by the continuing interest... I had to let some air out just to fit my head through the door!
-Loooong chapter...phew! Wasn't meant to be this length...but the muse just WOULD NOT SHUT UP!
-Watch out for the Bold/italics dialogue field below. Bold is Chris and the gang and Italics is Ezra, our favourite southerner.
-Also, when Chris talks about three quarters of the way through this, he really talks, so, take a deep breath and plunge on in... I hope you come out unscathed at the end of his little monologue.
- So thanks...now...on with the show...story...thing.
Chapter 3: The Resolution
Room 412 was part of the Intensive Care Unit, or ICU, a hall darkened by depression and fading hope, carried by silence and whispers. Death was rumoured to have a vacation home in this particular wing of the hospital and all the patients were labelled as critical.
You just hoped that your particular loved one had the added 'but stable' moniker.
The hall stank of illness and death, an atmosphere heavy and morose...and too lonely to bear.
The particular room in question was the exception to the rule, the light was on, bright and cheery, rather than dim and sombre, and people were constantly coming and going.
The room had been occupied by the same patient for the past four days, and although being a double housing only one patient, the room was never inhabited by less than two.
Sometimes the 'brothers' were there, loud, vivacious and full of life. Laughing, joking and cavorting around the room, tormenting each other and any other helpless victim that happened to enter the vicinity.
The oldest; tall, broad shouldered, with a lothario smile, bright eyes and wicked charm was both the bane of the floor nurses existence, and the spark that kept their lust for love alive. The younger was a breath of fresh naiveté, yet maturing fast. Still young, and happy to be so, enthusiasm not yet tempered by experience, and a complete darling to boot.
Despite being of no blood relation, they were similar enough in looks that the assumption was made by most observers. The genuine affection and love between the two, despite the constant bantering and rough housing made it clear that the popular theory was not an unwelcome mistake.
The care and consideration they showed the patient, keeping their voices down to a dull roar and only using the soft football, made it clear that the fondness they shared also included their bedridden friend.
As often as they visited, and as daunting as the ward could be, their spirits were never low, the good-humoured repartee filled the room with care and fondness, soothing in its regularity. Yet despite the continuous good cheer and happiness, there was an underlying sadness and guilt that was clearly displayed for an instant as they said their goodbyes and departed.
The other, no more than a boy himself, always turned back at the door, hands clenched together in a white knuckle grip, gaze on one of those he had looked up to above all others, held apart by awe and inspiration. One, who in his own stupid, blind emotion, he had helped tear down, not giving the benefit of the doubt, when he had previously hung on every sparse word. He had been blinded by emotion and adrenaline, and stumbled around with all the grace and finesse of a bull in a china shop. And now, with sight restored, he looked on in horror at the damage he had helped inflict.
The larger man would always grip a slim, blanket covered ankle in farewell, strong, firm and dependable, his dark blue eyes painfully sorrowful in their unwavering loyalty, silently promising to hold that loyalty above all else, as he so recently did not. Buck would turn and join the JD at the door, a comforting hand on a smaller shoulder as he guided the equally upset and guilty man from the room.
'Please Vin'
The largest of the visitors was also the oldest; a bear of a man, greying hair by no means and indicator that age was beginning to catch up. The old preacher's intimidation factor was quite daunting, until he opened his mouth. A kinder and gentler shepherd you would not find anywhere, unless you had intent to harm one of his 'flock', and then those club like fists, would go 'old testament' on your ass.
Josiah would enter the hospital, smiling kindly at the nurses, doctors and hospital staff as he passed, his size easily cutting a swather through any groups gathered in the hall. Gingerly taking a seat in one of the soft plastic chairs, Josiah would lean forward and brush the tangled curls back from the too pale face. At the first visit he had settled the sparse white blankets more securely; knowing of the patient's intense hatred and sensitivity to the cold, the next time he had come, a soft mink blanket in shades of gold and blue had been added to the bed, which he'd also smooth and tuck in. Then he'd lean back and begin to recite prayers from the good book, voice soothing and warm in the bland atmosphere.
Although calm on the outside, Internally he was kicking himself, unable to believe that he had treated this particular lamb with such insensitivity, he knew only a little the background that led to the insecurities that this young one harboured, but still he had failed to listen to his instincts. If he had, they would have told him to offer what comfort and reassurance that he could, a cracked heart is more easily shattered by friend than foe.
Yet even with all his knowledge and experience he had still turned away from the child, unable to fathom that he would do something so stupid, so dangerous. Except, of course he hadn't. Josiah, should have known...or rather did know, but was incredibly short-sighted...it was a never ending circle of blame, hate and insecurity...one he alone could not stop.
The only way to break the chain was to earn back his right to offer guidance to one he had failed so badly. Decided, and single minded in his determination, Josiah would run an hand over the blanket covered chest and shoulder, adding silent prayer, just for his ears, before turning and leaving, hoping that the flock would be whole again soon.
'Please Vin'
The black man was well known by the hospital staff. Along with Josiah, he was the only level headed one among the seven and he spoke fluent Doctorese, a fact that both the friends and the medical professionals were thankful for.
Having a girlfriend who worked in the hospital, and a 'brother' as a patient, meant that Nathan was a frequent visitor to room 412, often just sticking his head in as he passed.
Just checking.
However, every few hours he would enter the room and it beside the silent bed, eyes watching and gauging the equipment, and hands often doing a quick check of the wound and vitals. He took his job as team medic very seriously.
Hence the reason why the fact that he didn't even notice the injury was tearing him up. Self disgust and abhorrence ate at his soul.
He should have known...
He knew what this particular boy was like, injury wise, and knew what he was like job related. The fact that he had even considered the ludicrous assumption, let alone believed it was abysmal. They relied on Nathan, he relied on Nathan, to keep them all alive and well, to know when to say 'sit down before you fall down, you bloody idiot' and when they was being to self sacrificing to come out and say 'I've just dislocated my shoulder...can you fix it' rather than walk around for the next week with adamaged arm.
It was his job...his duty...his calling...and he had failed... personally.
Never again, he promised himself...'If somehow I can fix this, and regain his trust...never again'
Getting to his feet, knowing that Rain would be waiting for him, Nathan ran a hand across the smooth forehead, and he wasn't just checking the patient's temperature.
'Please Vin'
All these men came and went, pleading and hoping and guilty. However one man never left. The white chair to the beds right was constantly occupied by a lone, solitary figure, dressed head to toe in black. Silent and deadly, he played the waiting part of the 'wait and see' game.
The nurses didn't bother with visiting hours for this man, as they doubted that he would leave even if they did. Occasionally he would move to the other bed, usually when exhaustion left him no choice, and he'd collapse for a few short hours, before he would be back in the white seat, hand holding a smaller, limp one.
The only times he completely left the room, where when his other team member woke after surgery and twice more after that to visit him.
The rest of the time he sat in the seat holding on and not letting go. Never letting go.
When the other men visited they brought him food, although they remained mostly untouched. Caffeine was this man's friend, and he relied on it to stay with his best friend.
After all he had said and done, he wasn't leaving this room without the man in the bed.
Not when he had a million shards of a broken heart to find and put back together, and as much as he hated puzzles, this was not one he would leave unfinished. In all his years, through every moment in his life, every experience, he had never been so ashamed with himself, so utterly horror struck with his own behaviour.
His actions may have cost his little brother his life.
It wasn't an outcome Chris was willing to accept, and he'd do anything he had to, to prove to the other half of his soul exactly how wrong he had been, how misguided.
And how entirely sorry he was. He'd prove that he was there for the long hail and no matter what happened he'd come through. Chris wasn't willing to let the boy go, not when it had been his own appalling behaviour that had caused the massive rift.
Squeezing the small hand tightly, Chris lay his head down on the side of the bed, glad for the warm presence of his, thankfully alive, best friend.
'Please Vin'
The nurses in particular, loved this patient, for all that he complained, about the food, the bed, the temperature, the atmosphere, and most things else. He was charming, a little exotic, and his accent was just dreamy. And as disagreeable and argumentative as he was, the way he lit up whenever his friends were in the room was beautiful.
He had woken the morning after the shooting, doped to the gills on the good stuff, and as loopy and chatty as they had ever seen. He wasn't impressed about the whole 'being shot' thing and even less by the 'In hospital' thing, but was much too impressed by the dust mites shining in the sun rays to really care.
Buck, Josiah and JD had had a difficult time keeping him in the bed, although not for his usual reason of wanting to escape, but rather because he wanted to find out where the brown lines in the carpet led to after they 'escaped' out the door, into the hall. Finally they convinced him that the lines in the carpet were all over the hospital, much to his disgust, and he turned his attention to the dots in the white ceiling, trying to count them, but use a different language for every number, finally falling asleep at 'dos-cents dotze' leaving a befuddled JD and amused Josiah to watch over him, glad that he hadn't been 'with it' enough to ask about Vin, knowing that Ezra was just slightly protective of the boy he had formed a close bond to. They had no doubt that when he did find out what they had done, there was going to be hell to pay...and they would deserve it.
Hopefully having one that hadn't betrayed Vins trust would help the situation, and if any of them could, Ezra was sure to succeed.
The undercover agent slept the majority of the morning, warm under the green and silver mink blanket that Josiah had supplied. The doctors thought they would probably be able to release him into one of his friend's care either that afternoon or the next morning, depending on how well he weaned from the pain killers.
Chris left Vins room for half an hour that evening, sitting next to the clearly bemused Ezra, who had thankfully, stopped trying to get out of the bed. The leader was morose and despite being happy beyond belief that Ezra was going to be okay and glad to be visiting him, Chris had this feeling that something would happen to Vin while he was gone. He was speaking softly to Ezra, letting him know what had happened to the Johansson's, careful not to mention Vin when the obviously drowsy southerner started to bat clumsily at his shirt. Chris tried to grab the hands that were fluttering at him, but Ezra was not in the least coordinated while drugged, making it difficult for Chris to judge where he should be grabbing.
Chris was about to call for a doctor, starting to fear that this was some sort of fit, when the southerner allowed his hands to be captured.
Holding the slightly clammy hands Chris gazed at the surprisingly clear green eyes and was about to ask what Ezra was doing when the man told him anyway.
'I was endeavouring to expel a great black storm cloud from this domicile, it is impeding on my capability to recover comfortably...'
Chris stared at Ezra, unsure whether to be offended or confused, when the man continued.
'Chris...I'm going to be fine...go sit with Vin...'
Chris had no idea how Ezra knew Vin was in the hospital, but assumed one of the others had told him, he smiled and thanked the southerner, who had fallen asleep again anyway, before doing as he was bid, and heading back to Vin's room.
Nathan checked in with Ezra late that night, having come to pick Rain up, who was on the later shift. Ezra was asleep when he entered the room, but it took the medic mere moments to realise that he was not comfortable at all. Reaching out, the back of his hand to the creased forehead told Nathan what he had already suspected, Ezra had a fever, relatively mild at the moment, but something was causing it, and if they didn't replicate the problem, it may not remain mild, and the last thing they needed was two of their brothers in medical distress.
Nathan called the doctor and had already started uncovering the gunshot wound when he arrived. It didn't take long to establish that the wound had become infected. The doctor increased Ezra's antibiotics and told Nathan that he would have a nurse look in on him throughout the night. Nathan told him not to worry, that he himself, intended to stay.
He gave Rain his car keys and told her he'd get a lift around tomorrow to pick his car up, and then like in another room a few floors up, he sat vigil at the bedside for the night.
Nathan had hoped that by catching the infection early, they might avoid it getting much worse, but it seemed to be well established, as the fever increased during the night, becoming moderately high, although not dangerously so.
It was obvious that Ezra wasn't going home the next morning after all.
It was another two day before the fever broke, much of which Ezra spent asleep, or hot and clammy, befuddled by the pain meds they had him on, and any mention of Vin went unnoticed by the ill southerner. Like with Vin, one of the team members sat at Ezra's bedside, so he wasn't alone when he woke, knowing that he hated hospitals at the best of time, which this definitely wasn't.
The fever finally broke and the infection began to lose hold mid morning three days after having been shot. It was just before lunch when Ezra woke up, clear and on full thrusters for the first time in days.
And contrary to those who thought Ezra was no more than a selfish conceited jerk, the first thing out of his mouth was, "How is Vin?" green eyes flicked between Nathan and Josiah, who had been quietly speaking as the television ran muted in the back ground.
Nathan turned at the sound of the clear voice, "Ezra! You're awake...how do you feel...?" he ignored the question of Vin for a moment, intent on getting a straight answer out of the con man first.
Ezra brushed him off "Fine, I'm fine..." Nathan gaze turned piercing and Ezra capitulated wanting to hear about his team mate as soon as possible "fine...my shoulder is throbbing, I have a headache, I'm hungry, and thirsty, the beds to hard, the pillows too soft, the blankets are scratchy, and I'm tired...now Vin?" the southerner stared at the two men, who stared back, before Nathan huffed an exasperated but happy breath, and Josiah a let out a deep chuckle.
'Ezra was going to be okay.
Nathan sighed, thinking of Vin, and Ezra's reaction. "First things first..." he said, wanting to make the southerner more comfortable and not just delay the conversation. He pulled all the blankets and sheets off the bed, to Ezra's dismay, if the southerners enraged screech was any indicator, before he began putting them back one at a time, the mink first.
"There no more scratchy blankets...lunch is in 20 minutes and here..." he handed the glass of water than Josiah had poured to the gambler, waiting until he had drank all of before taking the cup back.
Josiah started "Not much we can do about the bed or the pillows brother, they're all the same...now...how do you know about Vin getting shot?" Ezra stared at them for a second, unsure of the questions intent.
Nathan explained "Did one of the others tell you...you were pretty out of it...I don't know if you heard everything correctly... " Nathan stopped because Ezra was shaking his head.
He allowed the younger man to speak, "No...No one's told me anything...I don't think... Not anything I can recall clearly if they did..." seeing that he was getting off topic, Ezra took a breath and continued "I saw the events that transpired which led to Mr Tanner being shot..."
The machine beeped a steady staccato in the background, comforting only in that it broke the stifling silence of the whitewashed hospital room. It was a familiar environment, one met with contrasting thoughts and feelings. It may be a place of pain, suffering and death, but the hospital also meant healing and safety, a haven, that once reached, usually meant it's over and we're all still here.
Usually.
Sometimes however, it was just a place of sorrow and remorse, and today, sitting in the intentionally uncomfortable plastic lined chair, large tanned hand gripping the smaller, completely lax, colourless hand, he knew without a doubt that this urgent dash to the hospital, however routine they had started to become, would forever rest in his mind as one of the worst of his entire life.
Chris had sent the others home nearly an hour ago, although Ezra had point blank refused to go. After finding out what they had done to Vin, the undercover agent had been furious, and not in his overdramatic drama queen manner of norm, but instead an intense, quite burn that wouldn't go out.
And rightfully so, if after hearing what had transpired after he had been shot had left Ezra that angry on the boys behalf, then Chris's guilt had easily tripled at hearing the exact story to the shooting.
The reason why Vin had been flying through the air, a bullet tearing through his soft flesh, agony twisting his body, yet not being given a chance to say a word.
Putting what they had done in words for Ezra had made it all too real for Chris.
And hearing what Ezra had to say was worse than telling him what they had done.
'We blamed him for you getting shot'
'...You did what?...as if he wasn't already going to blame himself... Why on earth would any of you say such a thing to him?'
'I thought he had jumped out of the rafters...showboating...or something...knocked Buck down...got you shot'
'Vin! Showing off? Can you hear how stupid you sound...how unbelievable this is...he gets shot...and you blame him for getting me shot by showing off...'
'We didn't know he had been hit'
'How did you not see him get shot, he jerked like a marionette! Didn't you notice that he was white as a ghost?'
'We didn't see him get shot...we were all watching you...'
'...me?...oh...Then after...you blamed him for me getting shot...after being shot himself...you sent him away...alone...thinking he might have gotten me killed...while he had a bullet in his stomach?'
'I swear we didn't know he had fallen, that he was hurt...there was no sign of injury...no blood...and he didn't say anything...'
'Didn't say anything...didn't say any...ITS VIN! ...Of course he didn't say anything...he never says anything...but you didn't even ask...did y...hang on a moment...fallen...he didn't fall...he ...oh god...you don't...you didn't see...you...oh...'
'Ezra...what...what do you mean he didn't fall?...he was shot from the rafters and fell...we didn't notice...thought he'd jumped...and then...'
'Oh...Chris...That's just it...he did jump...he jumped from the rafters...and then was shot...not the other way round...cause and effect Chris...cause and eff...'
'EZRA! '
'Vin didn't fall...he jumped out of the rafters...into the path of a bullet...a bullet meant for you Chris...'
*Silence*
'C-Chris...'
'HE DID WHAT!...Of all the...Why the hell wou...Oh Vin... '
'C-Chris...'
'He couldn't shout...for fear of startling the guy who had you Ezra...and he mustn't have been able to get a sight with his rifle...'
'I had wondered...that's what happened...he got himself shot for you...and you treated him like... '
'I know...I can't...We didn't...I wasn't...What have I done...Vin...'
'Chris...I can't believe that you would do that to Vin of all people...that any of you would...I'm disgusted...appalled...if you've broken that boy...if he never trusts you again...never forgives you...I wouldn't be surprised...you know how he was raised, what he's endured, over come...how far he extended himself to trust us all...if you've shattered that trust...Vin won't be the only one who never forgives you...'
*Silence*
*Sigh/sob/indrawn breath*
*Silence*
'He'll forgive you Chris...he shouldn't...but he will...'
*..I'll do anything...we all will...prove to him...show him...but Ezra...he won't wake up...*
The southerner sat beside the bed, white linen contrasting with the blue blanket, yet blending with the too pale skin. His hand gripped the patient's left hand, warm and reassuring, the right held by and equally reassuring hand.
Ezra gazed across at their leader, the man was asleep, his head on the mattress beside the small waist, holding on, even in sleep. Although he was angry, furious even, that they had treated Vin with such unthinking insensitivity and unbelievable heartlessness, he knew that the only ones who could truly heal were those who had harmed.
Of them, especially this man, who would walk across fire and right into the pits of hell for the boy in the bed, if only the stubborn Texan would allow it, Ezra would have to see that he did.
Suspending his anger and disbelief for an instant, he could see how in the heat of the moment, and looking for someone to blame, adrenaline and emotions running high...he wasn't so sure that if he hadn't seen what had happened with his own two eyes...he wouldn't be on the other side...he only wished that the easy target had not been this particular target...who was as insecure as he was trusting.
He wasn't without blame either, and the guilt he was feeling proved that. It was a different kind of shame...but shame none-the-less. He remembered Chris's words...we were watching you...and couldn't help the tingling of happiness at the thought that they had been worried about him. He knew they cared, just as he did, but to have it said, in plain view, right under his nose...
And to be the cause of such pain and suffering...hence the guilt and shame.
He would put it to right...see the trust rebuilt and solidified...he wouldn't lose the only true family he'd ever had to anything...especially not cracks of turmoil from the inside out.
Ezra sighed as Chris stirred, watching as hope was chased away by resignation as the blond woke and looked to his best friend. Standing, the southerner ran long fingers through the slightly less tangled hair, thanks to his gold pocket comb, and left, giving the two some privacy.
'Please Vin'
'Please Vin...Please wake up...'
He'd told them to go home, get some sleep, that they would be no use to any one, meaning Vin, if they were exhausted; but in truth, he had been unable to stand the shame and guilt that wreathed each of their persona's, enhancing and intensifying his own.
Finally Ezra left, and Chris was both grateful and sad. Some part of him hoped that Ezra would remain here, because Chris had no idea what he was doing, and the boy needed someone he could trust.
As soon as the room was cleared, of all except himself and the patient, Chris felt the weight that had been hovering over his head like a dark cloud, crush into him, an almost physical presence that forced him to slump lower in the plastic chair.
Chris shivered, pulling the black coat closer, although, perhaps the low temperature of the hospital was only a factor of his discomfort. In the short time he had known Vin, in reality, a stretch of forever, he had always believed, without a doubt, that the fates had conspired to make their paths not only cross, but become irrevocably tangled that he belonged at Vin's side and Vin at his.
Friends, partners, kindred spirits...
After what he had done, or not done; he felt as though this was the last place he deserved to be. He wasn't going to leave though; he may not deserve to be here, but Vin didn't deserve to be abandoned...again.
'He jumped into the path of a bullet...a bullet meant for you Chris...'
And then Chris had betrayed him, broke Vin as easily as he had protected him. He had no idea how to fix the mess he had created...but Vin waking up would be a start.
The doctors had no real reason for the coma, stating any number of possible causes, blood loss, shock, emotional trauma...
Any and all of which could be contributing factors.
Chris was at a loss, but he wouldn't lose Vin, he squeezed the smaller hand tightly, as if trying to anchor the boy to him.
His other hand, curled against a slim, blanket covered waist, convulsively tightened around the thin, crumpled sheet of paper, the white parchment showed creases and lines, indicative of having been scrunched up and then smoothed out repeatedly over the last several hours.
Vins prose, it haunted him, during waking and sleeping hours, certain lines eating at his heart, He knew the younger man had a poet's heart, and liked to write when emotional; it was a sort of outlet.
And the boy had talent, real talent...Chris himself had a framed and signed (much to Vins delighted chagrin) copy of 'A hero's heart' hanging on his office wall, but never had Chris ever seen such devastating honesty on paper...and stained by blood smudges, the message was even more harrowing.
He knew it was all about interpretation, but if Vin was feeling even a tenth of the misery and worthlessness that poured of this page...Chris couldn't bear the thought that he had had helped cause it.
Had Vin even realised that he was hurt, bleeding out while he was writing this...or had he been so wrapped up in getting how he felt out that he hadn't even been aware of his own dire situation?
And when you're gone; just a distant thought
No one will remember how hard you fought
Didn't he realise; hadn't they made it clear enough. Surely he knew that should anything ever happen to him, if they lost him, that nothing would ever be the same again.
No one will remember... more like, no one would ever forget, even for a second, days filled with reminders and memories and night with dreams and nightmares. What ifs, maybe's and if only's clouding the mind and actions, until finally, one by one, they joined him in the beyond.
If he didn't know, didn't realise...Chris vowed he would...if he would just wake up.
Chris started at the lax, pale hand in his, the colour contrast almost as striking as the size, he had never noticed that how small Vins hands were, how small the whole package was...just like their realisation of how young he was. His gaze followed the slim arm, and neck before coming to rest on the familiar, yet unfamiliar face.
Usually so animated, when happy, exited, angry or sad, yet never blank, like now.
Not knowing what else to do, and not able to stand just sitting here Chris began to speak.
"Here we are again...becoming a bit of a habit cowboy...I'd be glad to help you kick it...I don't think I like this side of the game much, I much prefer to be on the other side...the one in the bed...I know you are probably thinking...but I gotta tell you Vin...I hate being the one waiting...would you just wake up already? You hear me? Get that mangy, flea ridden, shag carpet and that scrawny, buckskin covered ass out of that bed! ...yeah, yeah...I know...you do it better...you and your mouth...really though Vin...you've gotta wake up...I can't stand the waitin' any more...you know I'm not exactly the most patient guy...oh wipe that smirk of your face...if you wake up, I'd let ya tell me to shove it...as many times as ya like..."
Chris patted the hand in his grasp gently before letting go and pacing over to the window, staring out at the empty tarmac parking lot, noting the stars that barely shone through the city pollution.
"If you were awake, I'd take ya out to the ranch...you can see all the stars out there...breath the fresh air...see the horses...Yosemite rang me this morning...he taking care of the horses...he said if you don't come home soon he's gonna have to turn Peso into glue...black bastard gave him a real hurry up the other morning...if you wouldn't have my hide I tell Yosé to just let the devil starve...I know...Peso a fine horse...if you ignore the teeth and the legs and the rump and his tail...not much of a horse then partner..."
He turned back to the bed, taking his place at Vins side again, hand automatically reaching for Vin's, still speaking.
"You know...I think I have the makings for smores...uh...what do you call them?...Buck liked the name...oh right Chocmallow Orgasms...*Snort* ...yeah, I see why Buck likes that name...that's Buck for ya...All he thinks about...except that's not true...he sorry...you know that right...don't worry , I'm sure he will tell you himself...damn drill it into your head until you understand...he thinks the world of you...loves how much you love life...and everything in it...he never meant to hurt you...shock I think, so close to saving and then losing Ezra...it's not an excuse...there's never going to be an excuse for how we treated you...but Vin...Buck ain't got a mean bone in his body...not where your concerned...he's just your Bucklin...you know how you're the only one who I let call me cowboy? ...Well you're the only one who can call him Bucklin...not even JD can do that... "
Chris shifted in his chair, fingers of his free hand worrying the blanket, unable to stop the out pour of his very soul.
"Speaking of JD...well that kid thinks the sun shines out your very ass...how was that for a Vinism...pales in comparison huh?...well, I do what I can...Anyway...JD wants Bucks approval and care...but it's you he imitates...you're the one he wants to be just like...the look on his face when he realised what he had done...I don't even think he knew what was going on...kid was in the van for most of it...came into the warehouse just on the tail end of hearing how you got Ezra shot...it hurt him to realise that his idol was human...was probably good for him...but Vin what I'm trying to say is that JD's anger was probably aimed more at himself that you...he couldn't process what he was being told about his hero...didn't believe it...he just reacted...but Vin your still super human in his eyes...more so than ever...he'll tell you that, although it will be in JD-enese...which only you seem to understand...you treat him like 'just one of the guys' rather than 'the kid'... something that only Josiah does as well...but Josiah's mature like that...in JD-enese I thinks that's 'Old!...'...don't tell the preacher man I said that..."
Chris trailed of for a moment...grabbing the glass of water on the bedside table and taking a drink himself before dunking a cloth and wetting Vin's lips.
"My mouth was dryza-bone...nope...too Aussie...can't blame a guy for trying...oh ya can, can ya?...you would to, wouldn't ya...need some of Josiah's wisdom right about now...deal with these uppity young ones...or some of his 'old testament 'problem solving...uhuh...you think you'd wipe the floor with anyone...I'll admit Tanner, you're a scrapper...but Josiah...really?...Have you seen the size of that man...you're probably right...nope...he'd let ya knock him out cold before he'd lift a hand to you...its true...for all his strength, Josiah is a softy when it comes to you...says you 'get' him in just the right place...I reckon he will be able to tell you all this himself much better...something about using the wrong set of parameters to judge...forgetting that the past can shape each man differently...and ignoring someone's past for seemingly obvious facts in the present being a dangerous and unsteady path...wisdom isn't really my forte...but I reckon Josiah will walk you through it...just as soon as you wake up...if you don't get you your head out of dream land soon, I'll sick Nate on you...Like he did to Ez last weekend...and the weekend before that...don't much reckon you'd like having your legs casted together... "
Chris stopped talking as the midnight Nurse stuck her head in, her eyes screamed sympathy, as they all did. She did a quick check of the equipment and IV's before she was gone again.
'I don't think Nate's slept a wink...between you and Ezra and Rain being here at the hospital... he stretched kind of thin...not that he minds...finding out he had missed that you were injured...and badly...really shook him up...he hardly leaves the hospital...not that I'm particularly pleased about that little fact either...but Nate takes his duty as team medic to an extreme...as you well know...and he thinks you're the worst of the bunch of us for not telling him when you need help...also true...Vin...we had no idea you were hurt...we don't even know if you knew...you have to believe me...we would never have sent you back to the office if we had known...we should never have sent you anyway...but Vin...you almost died...I-I ...Nathan was terrified he would lose you...Vin...if that ever happened...I know that he...we...would never get over it...you mean a hell of a lot to us...your one of us...Nathan knows you had nothing to do with Ezra being shot...and even if you had...he...we..I...would never have blamed you...things happen... Nathan wouldn't have cast you aside...no matter what had happened with Ezra...not only are you too far ingrained, joined to our soul...our brother, blood or not, you're stuck with us...;but Ezra would have eaten him alive, as it was...it was a close call...'
Chris swallowed and glanced furtively around, Ezra had the most awful habit of just 'popping' up when you least expected...he'd never hear the end of it if the southerner overheard what he was about to say.
'When he woke, he went to bat for you...he's a great friend to have Vin...but I don't think you ever need worry about losing him...I have never seen Ezra so riled up in my life...I wouldn't have been surprised if steam had started to pour out of his ears...his face was so red he looked like a tomato...oh he was good and vexed...not that it's in any way a laughing matter...we more than deserved his fury...for even considering the idea that you would even contemplate doing something that might endanger one of us... the idea is just ludicrous...I just don't know why we didn't cotton onto it then...we knew you weren't to blame for Ezra...perhaps you were just an easy target...all of our busts lately have been cake walks...facing our own mortality might have shaken us up a bit...had us looking for a scapegoat...I'm sorry Vin...It never should have been you...We know that you would never hurt any of us...we don't need Ezra to tell us that...we know you actually put 'yourself' in danger if it protected one of us...Ezra told me what you did...stepping in front of that bullet...for me..'
Chris gazed at the too still figure, wanting to see the eyes open, even if they were filled with hate and disgust...he needed Vin hear with him. Finally he had reached the crux of the matter, felt like he had reached the core of the wound, the poison had been draining for the last few hours, but now the painful part began...his own place in the mess
'I want to say that I wished you hadn't done that...hadn't taken it for me...but I'm not presumptuous enough to think that it would make the slightest difference if I told you...it wouldn't for me...I'd step in front of any number of bullets for you Vin...trains, cars, buses, bombs...walk through fire and tell death himself to take his pissing party elsewhere, that I've already staked my claim...and I'm never giving you up...I know...I chose a piss poor way of showing that sentiment...and Vin, all I can really say is I am so, so very sorry...although I plan on saying a whole lot more...I don't know whether it was a culmination of the conversation from the day before about safety protocol, which, despite the incredibly inappropriate timing, I still stand by...the fact that you were late and I was getting worried about you...and then Ezra coming so close to dying and you just being in the picture my subconscious peripheral vision painted...I don't know...but Vin...I trust you with my life...I trust you with my teams life...if he were alive...I'd trust you with my sons life...what I did was inexcusable...what I said to you...some of it I meant...but even at the tine Vin...when my brain was wacked out on insane adrenaline...you were never leaving the team...never leaving my side...I don't know how to make you understand...I don't expect to be forgiven...I don't know how you would be able to after I destroyed your trust and loyalty...but Vin...you have to understand...it was my doing...my short coming...not yours...I've never had anyone who knows me the way you do...cares for me like you do...or that I care for the way I care about you...not even Adam or Sarah...'
Chris broke off, unable to continue, daunted by the vastness of the mistake he had made...the total destruction of a friendship unlike any he had ever experienced...he truly and honestly didn't think he would survive if he couldn't fix this...but he would...he didn't deserve death...not after what he had done to this precious soul... Chokingly he continued, hand convulsively tightening and loosening on Vins.
"I need you to wake up Vin...I'll beg you if I have to...I need to make you understand...I've never felt as ashamed as I do now...what I did to you...when all you ever gave me was your support, loyalty...and love...If I have to prove my loyalty and belief in you, to you for the rest of my life ...I will...in hoping that one day you will trust me again...not just as your boss...although I understand f you no longer want to work for me...but as your friend...I know that there's no way you can ever forgive me..."
Chris reached out and automatically smoothed the creased brow, soothing the grimace of distress off the pale face before opening his mouth to continue...then realised what he had just done.
He jumped to his, free hand going to Vins face, other never leaving the hand that was...yes!...returning his grip ever so slightly...
"VIN! Vin...that's it... your okay...you're in hospital...open your eyes...come on...I know you can do it...show me those baby blues...come on Vin, glare at me!..." his cajoling was rewarded with the slightest slit of blue, before Vin blinked a little and wakened more fully, groaning his free hand moved towards the gunshot wound.
Chris intercepted it "Ah ah...leave that...you were shot...that's it, look at me instead..." he pulled the hand back up to Vins face, placing the back of his against the softly stubbled jaw, still speaking, soothing Vin until the boy got his bearings, knowing how much Vin hated hospitals and often reacted adversely to medication.
"That's it...deep breaths...nice and calm...I'm just going to call for a doctor...you've had us all a bit worried..." he started to reach for the call button, when a feeble tugging on his hand drew his attention, looking back to Vin, worried, he was met with the boy trying to tell him something to him, but his mouth was too dry to form the words.
Chris had seen that stubborn look before and knew there was no avoiding whatever the boy was trying to tell him, he reached for the glass of water and helped him take a sip. The glass went back to the table with a dull 'clunk' and Vin licked his lips and swallowed several times before he breathed deeply, grimacing against the pain and reached up and grabbed Chris forearm.
The vice was soft and wispy, barely more than a mummer but Chris heard it anyway.
"Take ya sorry, mangy, flea bitten, scrawny assed, black bellied, run down, old self and get the hell outta my room...you're forgiven...now git...how's a body sposed ta sleep 'round here with all ya jawin'?"
The blond grinned, slapped the call button and settled back into his seat, looking at the small hand that hadn't left his...thinking for the first time since he started this mess, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out.
A/N- Okay...so majorly huge chapter...kudos to the muse for the perseverance and you guys for the inspiration...REVIEW...REVIEW...please, please let me know what you thought...
-would you prefer I split it in half...smaller chapters...or do you like it how it is?
-Did you like the character and story development?
-Angsty enough?
-Want more?
-'dos-cents dotze' is 212 in Catalan