He doesn't think I'm comin' back. I can tell right away by the set of his shoulders. He's pretty deep in thought, too. Probably exhausted. His back's to the door and that surprises me. Means one of the others must be in the bullpen. He wouldn't let his guard down if it weren't one of our own watchin' his back.
The most telltale sign that he's not slept, though, is the shoulder holster. Chris prefers a belt clip, but after a few days of no sleep and constant movement, the clip irritates his side. That's when he switches to the shoulder rig. He hardly ever wears it. Just usually when one of us is under real deep or hurt... or lost. When he doesn't sleep, not even for a minute.
I wish he'd wear it more during some happier times. There is nothing sexier in all the world than Chris in that holster. I'm suddenly sorry I'm hurtin' too bad right now to appreciate it.
The humane thing to do is go to him; ease his suffering and let him know I'm okay. But -- for maybe the first time in my life -- I'm gonna take care of me, first. I'm gonna stand here in the hallway and drink in the sight of him and heal, just a little bit, before this reunion. I need it. My soul hurts and my body hurts and, sometimes, I just need to be still. Stiller 'n even Chris Larabee can be.
God I'm so tired. I can still feel the pull of the tape when I close my eyes. That was the worst part, bein' blind and deaf. That and the hands all over me. Hurtin'. Even touchin' me places I just barely started enjoyin' Chris touchin'.
With my eyes padded shut and not bein' able to hear or talk, I was terrified. I don't mind admittin' it. The tube down my throat didn't let me ask 'em who they were or where I was, and I wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't the bad guys that had me. Soon as I was able I fought 'em. All that got me was restrained, both with leather and chemicals, and that broke me. I quit fightin'. I couldn't take bein' trapped anymore than I was, and I wasn't strong enough to fight my way out, yet.
Even after they took the tube out of my throat, I was lost. Couldn't hardly talk, couldn'ta heard 'em answer, anyway. And the damn pads still blindin' me.
I know I whimpered. I know cause I do that when I have nightmares, and that's all I had when I slept. Lost dreams. I figured out I was in a hospital and no one was tryin' to deliberately hurt me, but it didn't matter. They did and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it and I was helpless and Chris wasn't there and...
"Whoa, Vin, breathe," I could hear him say in my mind.
Chris. Standin' there in his shoulder holster and a dress shirt, hands on his hips. Frustrated and scared, but still the strongest thing I'd had in my world since the explosion.
I don't really know why I love Larabee in a shoulder rig. Maybe it's the whole cliché cop thing. It just... well, hell, I don't know... emphasizes his command; tags him as an authority or somethin'.
I fear that authority right now, just a little. I'm afraid he'll make me go back to the hospital.
Soon as my ears popped open I gave 'em enough to make 'em think I'd cooperate with my treatment plan, then I pretended to drift off to sleep before they could ask more questions. Soon as I was alone I was rippin' the bandages off my eyes, thankin' the good Lord I could see. And minutes later I was outta there, grabbin' scrubs from a biohazard hamper and not even carin' they were blood-stained.
I'm shocked, really, that I'm here, propped up against a wall at the almighty-secure Federal Building at 3:00 am, covered with dried blood and no one demandin' to know where I've been. Chris'll be mad about the loading dock door still bein' broken, but I was glad about it. He's gonna be pissed that I didn't call him, too. That I let him worry for over an hour longer than necessary while I made my way 'cross town.
I can't explain it. I just had to be there when he found out I was alive. When he found out I wasn't in the hands of the bad guys.
And, more than anything - even his peace of mind - I needed his strength. And there he was, in that shoulder holster, looking for all the world like an immovable rock in an ocean storm. I couldn't wait, anymore, for him to hold me.
Try to smile at Buck, Vin. His eyes are wet over that big, relieved grin. But I can't focus on anything 'cept Chris Larabee. The shoulders, wrapped in leather. The arms about to make me feel safe again. Damn, these tears sting.
He knows I'm here. Feels me like I always feel him. God look at those eyes. Starin' at me, scared to believe, and the cop in him takin' inventory, pupils widenin' at the blood.
Then relief and, finally, tears. I watch him pullin' back at the last second when he would'a grabbed me and crushed me to him. His arms are gentle now but, God, so strong. How can he be tremblin' and still be so strong?
This time I hear my whimper.
Safe. The word is echoing in my overwhelmed mind and seeping through my exhausted body. He'll catch me. I can let go. And he did.
I gotta scratch the word out of my sore -- and now tear-choked -- throat.
"Home."
"Vin, ya gotta go... "
"No! Home!"
It feels like a bellow to me, probably a raspy whisper to him.
The tenderness in his face belies the long-suffering sigh and tells me I won, and he lifts me into his arms like a baby.
Buck's finishing the last of the calls to the rest of us, lettin' 'em know they can go to bed after their showers instead'a headin' back. He picks up his cell and runs interference as Chris takes me down to the truck. Before I get settled, Buck's on the phone with Nathan, callin' him out to the ranch.
That's okay. I can take Nathan's hands on me. And I know Chris' arms'll be around me. And with him holdin' me, I'm always okay.
The truck smells like him. Leather and spice, cigar and... just Chris. So sleepy...
Five days later:
I hate like all hell bein' stuck here while he goes to work, but at least it shouldn't be much longer. Doc says he'll clear me in another week I can make it that long. I'm cleared, now, for light exercise at home.
Thank gawd, as Ez would say. I want Christopher Adam Larabee so bad I can hardly stand up sometimes, but he's been hands off since I showed back up. Tonight I intend to make him take the doc's word on it that I'm getting' better. I can make it till tonight. Sure I can. I can... really.
God I love that sound, him rustlin' round in the closet, puttin' on a crisp shirt and those tight pants. Down, Tanner. Close your eyes, go back to sleep. Well... maybe a little peek.
Shit!
"Larabee! You asshole!"
Startled, hazel eyes snapped to my face. He honestly looked confused. How could he not know? My cock jumped like it was about to be buried balls deep in that sweet, precious ass.
"What the fuck are you doin' in that shoulder holster!?"
THE END