Chris Larabee was tired, no; he'd gone behind tired. Right now if anyone asked him he'd say he'd reached and surpassed the point of exhaustion weeks ago. Now he was running on empty and just wanted to put everything in the past and return to a life of normalcy. Today marked the point of no return for him, his testimony would ensure that one of the crime kingpins in the area would be spending the next thirty to forty years behind bars. The morning was hectic and question filled and the day ended in the courtroom where he'd given testimony at the trial of Benjamin Williams, also known as Benny the Knife. The supreme court indicted him on three counts of murder, grand larceny, and drug running.
Benjamin Williams had a reputation for exacting revenge on anyone who tried to take him down. Four good men died trying to bring Williams to justice and Chris vowed to make him pay. He'd gone undercover without telling his own men where he was and now he was headed towards the office. It was the threat of a leak that was the reason for the suddenness and secrecy of the case. That, plus the possibility that one or more of his men were targets for a major hit. He was in the position to take the thug out hard and fast and that's what he did, without anyone else knowing or with the chance of them getting hurt. The leak was now plugged and the FBI agent involved faced charges and a minimum of ten years in prison. All of this wouldn't matter to his friends and he didn't blame them. Somehow he knew they'd be more than willing to tell him how stupid his lone wolf attitude was. This was one instance where he knew they were right.
He could hear Vin Tanner now. You're always yelling at me, Cowboy. Always telling me not to be such a lone wolf! Yet you go out there and do the same damn thing. You didn't have to do it on all on your own, Chris! Why the hell didn't you tell us what was going on. We could've helped you!
Larabee smiled and turned on the radio in his truck, smiling as he heard Garth Brooks singing about having friends in low places. The blond knew what that was like. He'd dipped into the barrel and befriended the lowest kind of people. People who put their own gain before the lives of others. Now, one of their leaders was about to be handed down a sentence that fit his crimes and Larabee was once more free to go home and return to his normal life.
He started singing along with the voice, smiling as he pictured the surprised look on his men's faces if they could hear his off key voice singing a duet with Garth Brooks. He drove down N-Nineteenth Street, singing loudly as he came to the intersection of Nineteenth and Sixth Avenue. The light was green and he continued through. The easy going feeling he had since the end of the trial quickly melted away as he was cut off by a blue Dodge Durango. He slammed on his breaks, but was unable to stop the collision with the other car. "Oh, Jesus," he cried as he felt the seatbelt give and his chest impacted with the steering wheel, his head bouncing off the windshield as a dark cloud obscured his vision.
Awareness was slow in coming, but he knew help was on the way as the sound of sirens greeted his ringing ears. He opened his eyes, slamming them shut again as bright lights danced before them, sending spikes of pain lancing through his skull. He lifted his hand to touch his head and was shocked to find his arms still worked. Slowly he placed his hands over his face, not surprised to find blood running from a cut above his left eye.
He lowered his arms and carefully ran his hands along his chest, moving both legs at the same time. Don't think anything's broken, he thought as he continued his own self examination. His chest felt a little sore but the worst seemed to be the oncoming headache. He groaned and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to stop.
"Don't try to move, Sir, the paramedics are here."
"Thanks," Larabee mumbled, the effort to speak almost too much for him.
"Where are you hurt?"
Chris opened his eyes and stared at the man opening his door. He squinted in an effort to bring the three images back in focus, not surprised when it turned out to be one man. "Chest and head," he answered finally.
"What have we got, Harvey?"
"Looks like a concussion and possible chest injuries. Grab the backboard and cervical collar," Harvey ordered.
"I...I'm fine," Larabee gasped as he tried to move out of the truck on his own.
"Oh, no you don't! Stay still," Harvey ordered as his partner returned with the requested equipment. "What's your name?" he asked as he checked the injured man's eyes with a small penlight.
"Chris Larabee."
"Well, Chris, we're gonna get you out of here and take you to the hospital. Any allergies?" Harvey asked as he placed the cervical collar around Larabee's neck.
"No...I s...said I'm fine," the blond mumbled, secretly glad he didn't have to move on his own.
"I know you did but we'll just let the doctors take a look to be sure. We're gonna put you on a backboard now and get you out of there," Harvey informed the victim as his partner crawled in from the opposite side of the truck. "He's pretty lucid, Mike."
"That's good. Looks like he took a nasty blow to the head though."
"You got that right," Larabee groaned as the headache grew worse.
They secured the blond to the backboard and slowly lifted him from the truck. Mike started an IV in Larabee's left arm ignoring the man's protests that he didn't need it. "Chris, this is just a precaution. Relax and let us do what we're trained to do." He looked towards his partner as he hooked their patient to the portable monitoring equipment. It wasn't long before beeps and clicks began indicating heart rate, temperature and oxygen intake.
"How's he doing?" Mike asked.
"Heart rate eighty four, BP one twenty over seventy," Harvey quickly read the results off the screen.
"T...told you I'm fine," Larabee repeated, his tightly clenched eyes belying his words.
"Well, we'll just let the doctors take a look at you to make sure," Harvey said as they lifted the injured man onto a stretcher. They covered him with a thin blanket and secured the black bands across his chest and legs.
Chris closed his eyes in an effort to stop the drums beating inside his head. His stomach felt queasy, making him very grateful he'd skipped lunch. He groaned as the stretcher was placed in the back of the ambulance. Darkness took over and he slipped away from the pain.
"Chris, can you hear me?"
He knew that voice, he'd heard it enough times to know he was in Saint Vincents. The pain radiating from his head told him he'd be suffering headaches for some time to come. He groaned as he opened his eyes and looked into the worried blue ones of Stacey Midland.
"Doc?"
"Well, it's about time you woke up," she smiled at the pale man. "How are you feeling?"
"Would you believe me if I said fine?"
"Not at all. How's the head?"
"Feels like it's gonna explode," he answered honestly.
"I don't doubt that for a minute. You had a pretty bad blow when you impacted with the windshield. You've got a concussion, but X-rays are all negative. You'll be pretty sore for awhile with all the bruises on your chest."
"Does that mean I can go home?"
"Not tonight. I'm going to give you something for the pain and we'll be moving you to a private room in a few minutes."
"Ah, hell, Doc, I'd sleep better at home," Larabee protested.
"Chris, I'm keeping you for observation. If everything's alright I'll sign your discharge papers in the morning. Right now just relax and try to sleep. Do you feel like having company?"
"Depends," was the softly spoken answer.
"On?"
"Who it is."
"Vin's been waiting outside since they brought you in."
Larabee knew the younger man would be angry, but he also knew there was no sense putting it off. He groaned as his headache intensified and nodded slowly, regretting the movement instantly. "Might as well get the lecture over with," he told her.
Midland laughed as she made contact with the dazed green eyes, "I was going to go home, but maybe it'd be worth staying around to hear Vin lay into you about going off on your own."
"Don't you start, Doc, it's bad enough when the guys harp on me."
"If the shoe fits," she said as she slipped a syringe into his IV. "That should help with the pain. I'll tell Vin he can visit you in your room as soon as we've got you settled."
"Thanks, Doc." The green eyes closed.
Midland knew he was sleeping again. You guys have got to learn to ask for help before you jump from the frying pan into the fire, she thought as she turned away from her patient.
Vin stood to the right of the door, his back to the wall, his eyes and ears open as he waited for Stacey Midland to come out of the tiny room. His anger at Chris Larabee going undercover without letting the rest of them know was overshadowed by the fear he'd felt when the call came into the office that he'd been involved in a car accident. Three hours had passed since that call and he still hadn't been in to see his friend. They sent him for CT scans, X-rays, and all sorts of tests. He looked up as the familiar doctor came out of the room.
"How is he?"
"Aside from a headache and sore chest he should be fine."
"So he's going home?"
"Not tonight. I want to keep him overnight for observation. If everything's alright I'll sign his release in the morning," she saw the relief and the anger fight for dominance on his handsome face. The eyes went from blue to a lighter shade of blue grey as the emotional young man tried to hide his feelings. "Vin, I know you're angry at him but don't say anything tonight. Whether he admits it or not he's hurting and right now he doesn't need anything upsetting him."
"Oh, I won't say anything tonight, but the stubborn jackass will listen to what me and the others have to say."
Midland smiled, "Stubborn Jackass, Vin. It seems to me he used the exact same words about you the last time you took off on your own."
Tanner had the good grace to look away, knowing she was right. He realized this was one of the things that drew him to Chris Larabee. They were so much alike, both men had been loners before they banded together with five other men to form The Firm. He knew there were other similarities, including the stubborn streak and the tendency to ignore their own injuries to help others. The seven also shared the trait of doing before thinking. It served them well, but sometimes the consequences outweighed the necessity of moving quickly. He prayed this would not be the case this time.
"Alright, Doc, I'll give him a few days. Can I see him now?"
"Not yet. We're moving him up to room two-twelve in a few minutes. Why don't you go on up and you can stay with him for a while."
"Thanks, Doc, I will," Tanner assured her as he hurried towards the bank of elevators across from the main desk.
The sharpshooter sat next to the bed that held the sleeping form of his friend. He'd been there for nearly two hours and the shock of seeing Larabee's battered body had finally worn off. The left side of his head, just above and slightly to the left of his eye was covered in a white swatch of gauze. A thin line of red was a stark contrast to the rest of the sterile dressing. A large, deep purple bruise, ringed in red, marred the area surrounding the bandage.
Larabee was covered to his waist in a thin white sheet. His upper chest was almost completely covered in a dark bruise. Vin winced each time the blond moved, knowing it had to hurt like a son of a bitch. A small groan from the pale figure told him his friend was waking up.
His head was pounding, keeping up a staccato beat as if a thousand war drums had taken up residence inside his skull. Slowly he shifted to the right, turning his head slightly as he sensed a familiar presence. He waited for the room to stop spinning and focused on the young man seated beside the bed. "V...Vin," he groaned.
"Yeah, Cowboy, how are ya feelin'?"
"Lousy."
"I should say so. Ya go fightin' with a steerin' wheel and windshield and ya'll lose every time."
Larabee smiled in spite of the pain. He shifted on the bed, groaning as his head came alive with pain once more. "Damn," he mumbled, reaching up to rub at his temples, moaning loudly when his hand touched the square white piece of gauze.
"Ya really should lie still," Tanner advised.
"Think you're right," the blond agreed, closing his eyes in an effort to quell the rising tide of bile in his stomach. "Oh, shit...gonna be sick," he warned and Tanner barely had time to turn him and place the small basin in front of his mouth. "W...water," Larabee groaned as the taste in his mouth threatened to start him retching all over again. He felt a straw placed at his lips and sipped the cold offering. "Thanks," he muttered as he lay back against the pillows.
"Yer welcome." The tracker knew his tone was sharp, but the fear of the last few weeks weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he needed to calm down before he broke his word to the doctor, but the sight of his battered friend was almost his undoing.
Larabee lay still for a moment, hearing the slight undertone of anger in the sharpshooter's voice. He knew Tanner was pissed that he didn't inform the rest of the team of his plans. He also knew he'd be getting a lecture from all of them as soon as he was out of the hospital. "Vin."
"What?"
Larabee flinched from the slightly raised tone. "Just wanted to tell you I'm sorry I didn't let you guys know where I was going."
"Is that all?" Damn, Tanner, you promised the doc not to bring it up right now, he berated himself.
"Damn, you're not going to make this easy are you?"
"Chris, let's not talk about this right now. Ya need ta get some rest and I'm too angry..."
"Angry?" Larabee's pain filled, irate voice interrupted. "What right do you have to be angry. Dammit, Vin, I'm not a child and I definitely don't need your permission to do anything," he shouted regretting his anger immediately as he noticed the pained expression on the younger man's face. "Shit!" he hissed and turned away.
Tanner stared at the blond, his own anger making him lose his temper with the injured man. "Ya could've been killed and no one would've known where ya were. Ya never even told Travis where ya were goin' or what ya'd be doin'. Did ya even think how yer disappearance effected the rest of us? Two long months without a word as ta where ya were or what ya were doin'! We've been worried sick about ya. Wonderin' if ya were lyin' in a ditch somewhere with yer fuckin' head blown off. What did ya tell me the last time I did somethin' like this? Oh, yeah, I remember. We're a team, Tanner, and as a team we work together! There's no place on this team for a lone wolf, so cut the crap and be a part of it or find somethin' else ta do! Remember those words, Chris?"
Larabee glared at his friend, agony ripping at his skull, making it impossible for him to think straight. "Dammit, Vin, I said I was sorry! If you and the others have a problem accepting my apology then to hell with all of you! I don't need you and I certainly don't need your permission to do as I please!"
"The hell with ya, Larabee! If that's the attitude yer gonna take maybe I don't want to be workin' with ya anymore! I'll type up my resignation and have it on yer desk by mornin'!"
Chris heard the younger man stand up to leave just as his head exploded in a blinding white sheet of pain. He desperately wanted to tell his friend to stay, that he didn't want him to leave, that he was absolutely right, but the words would not come forth. He clenched his eyes tightly and once more reached for the pain that dominated his skull "Vin, c...come b...back," he whispered but Tanner had already left the room. He gasped as the pain continued unabated, wondering if it was caused by the head injury or by the argument with his friend.
Chris had no idea how long he lay in the bed, unable to move for fear of setting off another wave of agony. He heard the door open and felt someone standing next to the bed, "V...Vin," he asked, opening his eyes and latching onto the blue ones standing beside him.
"Mr. Tanner left a while ago, Mr. Larabee. My name is Louise and I'll be looking after you tonight. How do you feel?"
The green eyes finally focused on the short nurse standing beside him. "Feels like someone hit my head with a sledge hammer."
"I bet it does," she said as she placed the pain medication into his IV. "That should help."
"T...thanks, got anything that'll help mend a friendship?" he asked softly.
The nurse smiled at him, shaking her head, "About the only thing I can give you for that is a little advice."
"I'm listening," he said, his eyes closed as he waited for the pain to recede.
"Talk to him when you've both calmed down. Anger only gets in the way when people try to talk. By tomorrow morning, Mr. Tanner's anger will be gone and you can both talk without a full blown screaming match. I think your pounding head would probably appreciate that."
The blond couldn't help but smile as he answered, "yeah, I think it probably would." Larabee knew she was right about the anger, he'd let his own anger overshadow the concern his friends felt for him. I'll apologize again in the morning, he thought as the medication kicked in and he drifted off to sleep.
By the time Vin reached his ranch his own anger had softened somewhat. He knew he'd spoken in haste when he told Chris he'd be resigning.
"Dammit, Larabee, ya make it so hard ta be yer friend sometimes," he said aloud, his voice sounding tired in the quiet darkness of his ranch house. You're one to talk, Vin Tanner, he thought as he remembered the shouting matches he had with the older man since their friendship began. The anger from those arguments never lasted more than a day or two before one or both would silently apologize. All it took was for their eyes to meet and things were back to normal, their friendship back where it belonged. He sank into his favorite chair and pulled the afghan Nettie Wells had given him up over his legs. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift towards sleep, knowing he'd pay for sleeping in the chair come morning. His soft snoring was the only sound in the otherwise silent house.
"Chris, I know I said I'd release you today but..."
"No buts, Doc, you said I could go home," Larabee told her as the nurse began to remove the IV from his arm. He was stiff and sore and his head still pounded with the slightest movement, but he wanted out.
"I said I'd release you if there were no complications," Midland told him.
"Doc, I feel much better this morning."
"You don't look any better and don't tell me you're not in any pain."
"Never said I wasn't in pain, Doc. Hell, my head's pounding and my chest feels like someone's been using it for a punching bag, but I don't need to stay here."
"I can't force you to stay, Chris, but I want your word you'll go home and go straight to bed."
"Doc, that's something I won't argue about." He smiled as the nurse finished removing the IV, placed a folded piece of gauze and taped it over the site.
"Do you want me to call Vin and have him come pick you up?"
"No thanks, Doc, I'll take a cab right now."
"What happened?" Midland asked, knowing the two men well enough to realize something was wrong if Larabee didn't want the younger man to pick him up.
"We just had a bit of an argument and I'm not in the mood to finish it this morning," he told her. "I'll call him this afternoon and apologize then."
"Chris, stop by the nurse's station for instructions before you leave. Now about calling Vin. I don't want you staying alone at the ranch. You've had a serious blow to the head and you're suffering from a concussion. I want someone there in case something happens. They need to wake you every couple of hours to make sure you're okay."
Larabee smiled at her, "Alright, Doc, I'll call him as soon as I get home."
"Chris, if I don't hear from Vin by noon today I will call him myself. I mean it. I don't want you alone right now."
"I'll have him call you, Doc, trust me," he grinned cockily in spite of the returning headache.
"Now where have I heard those words before?" she laughed as she left the room.
"Can you pass me my clothes?" the pale blond asked the nurse. She smiled as she handed him the black shirt and jeans he was so fond of. "Thanks," he said as she left him to get dressed.
Chris was glad when he was finally alone and didn't have to hide the pain he was in. He rubbed his chest before pulling on the black shirt. It took him nearly twenty minutes to finish dressing. He looked up to see the nurse returning with a wheelchair and didn't have the energy to argue about using one.
The cab ride to his ranch felt like the longest journey of Chris' life. His head and chest ached with each bump in the road, each shock sending tendrils of pain through his already pounding skull. He silently swore to kill the little son of a bitch who was using a jackhammer to drill into his brain. He kept his eyes closed until the cab came to a stop. He braced himself, knowing he was going to regret opening his eyes. He finally forced them open, fighting the temptation to close them again and never open them. He pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and told the driver to keep the change. He knew from experience the fare would be close to eighteen dollars.
Chris opened the door, smiling as the driver muttered his thanks. His limbs felt weighed down with fatigue as he stood away from the car and closed the door. The world around him spun madly as he staggered towards his home, a home he hadn't seen in almost two months. Be it ever so humble, he thought, his mother's words coming back to him and causing a slight smile to form on his face.
It took him a full five minutes to insert the key in the lock, turn it, open the door, and step into the dim interior. The blinds were still drawn and he had to wait for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight he'd just left. Stumbling forward Chris made his way to the couch, sinking into its comforting familiarity. He opened his eyes immediately, sensing something was out of place. He glanced around the room, trying to focus on whatever was making his spine tingle. A figure, with long hair stepped out of the shadows and he smiled.
"What are you doing here," Larabee groaned as he watched the figure move towards him. He waited for the Texas drawl to answer him as he continued to bring his vision into focus.
"Waiting for you!"
Larabee came to his feet, gasping as the movement sent spikes of pain through his skull. "How the fuck did you get in here?" he shouted.
"You've been away for a couple of months, Larabee. I've had plenty of time to find a way to break the code on your alarm."
"Tell Benny he can go to hell!" Larabee gripped the arm of the chair as he moved towards the figure he now recognized as one of Benjamin Williams' henchmen.
"Actually that's where you're going," the long haired man laughed as Larabee tried to escape from the room. "I expected you last night. Who'd you cross? Whoever it was certainly did a helluva job on you. Too bad I wasn't there to help them."
"Benny's going to jail, Kurt, and you'll be joining the bastard!" Larabee groaned, feeling the room spinning out of control. He needed to get to the phone, yet his vision kept going in and out of focus as he moved around.
"We might go to jail, Larabee, but we'll be a whole lot more comfortable than you," Kurt's cackling voice made Chris wince and he launched himself at the unprepared man.
The two grappled on the floor for a minute until Kurt lifted his hand and shoved hard at the bruised chest of the other man.
Chris groaned as he tried to push the hands away, losing the upper hand as Kurt easily shoved him off. His head connected with the floor and he fought the wave of nausea and dizziness that threatened to engulf him. He struggled to get to his feet, but was prevented from doing so as a hand leaned heavily on his chest. He felt something tacky on his head and knew he was bleeding again.
"It's not gonna be that easy, Larabee," Kurt laughed as he turned the blond onto his back and snapped a pair of handcuffs in place.
Chris felt something sharp enter his arm and groaned as he felt consciousness leave him. The last words he heard before he succumbed to a drug induced sleep were, "It's time to say goodnight, Larabee."
"Vin, what are you doing here?" Stacey Midland asked as the Texan walked towards her.
"Came ta take Chris home," he answered. Noticing the frown on her face he asked, "Ya are releasing him taday ain'tcha, Doc?"
"I released him several hours ago, Vin, he was supposed to call you as soon as he got home. I take it he didn't do that?"
"No, he didn't," Tanner frowned, pulling out his cell phone and pressing the keyed in number. He let the phone ring eight times before turning it off and shoving it into his pocket. "I'm goin' out ta the ranch," he told her.
"Vin, if you can't wake him get him back here right away."
"I will, Doc," he assured her. Please, God, let him be alright, he prayed as he hurried out the door. His second thought was that he wished the rest of the team was back from the undercover job they'd been on for the last two weeks. He stayed off the case because of his connection with a key member of the gang. The guys were supposed to come back to Billings the following day.
Dr. Jimmy Pearson glanced at the stack of X-rays before him. Must've been a busy night, he thought. Shaking his head he picked up the first of the alphabetized X-rays and slid it into the slots on the monitor. He switched on the light and made a careful examination of the bone in question. Years of experience and his tedious nature made it easy for him to pick out the subtlest breaks or fractures. Anna Arcott was one of the lucky ones, no breaks, no fractures but she'd be limping for a week or so. He slid the X-ray back in its protective covering and picked up the next one. Braden Doyle was not quite so lucky, a shadowy line indicated what was most likely a hairline fracture of the tibia. He noted it on the chart and put it aside.
The next seven X-rays were fine and he stood up to get a fresh coffee. His eyes caught the name on the next file and he shook his head. What the hell did Larabee do now? he thought as he poured his second cup of coffee. Sliding back into his chair he pulled out the X-ray in question and slipped it into the still lit slot. The X-ray showed Larabee's chest and the notation mentioned the cause as being an impact with a steering wheel. His right hand touched a spot on the x-ray as his left hand picked up the phone. He pressed a button and had Stacey Midland paged.
Midland was enjoying a few minutes peace and quiet when the call came from Jimmy Pearson. She placed her cup on the table and hurried towards the radiologist's office. She knocked on the door and opened it before the words "come in" reached her ears.
"Stacey, is Chris Larabee still in the hospital?" Pearson asked immediately.
"No, I sent him home this morning. What's wrong?"
"Take a look at the widened mediastinum," he told her.
Midland's eyes grew worried as she looked at the area he indicated. "You think it's indicative of..."
"A traumatic aneurysm," he finished for her.
"Damn. I'll call his ranch and make sure Vin brings him in," she said.
"You can use my phone," Pearson told her.
"Thanks, Jimmy, but I don't have the number with me. I'll call from my office."
"Alright, Stacey, you know I could be wrong?"
"I know and I hope you are, but we'd better get him in here and run some tests. I've got to go."
"Let me know what happens," he called after the fleeing form. He turned back to the X-ray in question and shook his head. I hope I'm wrong, Larabee, he thought as he removed the X-ray and placed the next one on the lighted screen.
Vin rang the doorbell, listening as the loud chimes echoed through the house. "Come on, Chris, answer the damn door," he called as he leaned heavily on the chime. Frustrated by the lack of response he pulled out his own keys and opened the door. Silence met his ears as he stepped into the darkened interior.
"Chris, are you in here?" he asked aloud. Still receiving no answer he hurried into the living room. There seemed to be nothing to indicate that Chris Larabee was home. The blinds were still tightly shut and nothing seemed to have been moved since he'd last checked the ranch two days ago. Hurrying through the house he searched the rooms, coming up empty each time. Dammit, Chris, where are you? he thought, his worry being slowly overtaken by a deeper emotion. Vin jumped as the unnatural silence of the house was broken by the loud ringing of the phone. He lifted the receiver before the second ring ended.
"Hello."
"Vin?"
"Yeah, Doc, it's me."
"Good, I want you to bring Chris back here immediately. Don't let..."
"Doc," Tanner interrupted. "He's not here."
"What do you mean he's not there? Where is he, Vin?"
"I don't know. What's wrong?"
"Look, Vin, there's nothing certain yet, but we need to get him in here and run some tests."
"What kind of tests, Doc? What ain't ya sayin'?"
"Vin..."
"Tell me, Doc."
"Alright," the doctor's voice sounded resigned as she started speaking. "The radiologist just looked at the X-Rays of Chris's chest."
"And?"
"And he found what could be a widened Mediastinum."
"What's that and what does it mean?"
"The mediastinum is the space between the lungs that contains the heart and major blood vessels."
"Ok, so what do ya mean by widened Media...Media...space?"
Midland laughed in spite of the tense situation. "Vin, it could mean an aneurysm."
"Dangerous?"
"If left untreated it's deadly. Think of it as a ticking bomb. If time runs out..."
"He'll die. How much time do we have?"
"We don't know that, Vin. It could still be nothing, but we need to do some tests to make sure."
"Alright, Doc, I'll find him and bring him in."
"Do that, Vin, I'll make arrangements here."
Tanner placed the phone in its cradle and took one last look around the ominously empty house. Where the hell are you? he thought as he headed out the door to his jeep.
He moved and his head exploded, or at least that was how it felt. He groaned and tried to open his eyes. He lifted his hand to rub his temples, but stopped as his fingers touched something hard and unyielding above his head. Forcing his eyes open Chris realized he couldn't see anything. Wherever he was, he was in complete and absolute darkness. He moved his legs, but came up against something solid. "Damn," he thought as he used his hands to feel around his head and shoulders.
"Hello, Larabee."
The disembodied voice startled the blond and he tried to sit up, striking his head against the top of his prison, crying out as pain radiated from the center of his skull.
"Having problems, Larabee?"
"Go to hell?"
"I told you that's where you would be going. Welcome to your own personal hell," the laughter erupted in a sickening crescendo in the tiny confines that held the blond in its grasp. "Let me shed a little light on your predicament."
Bright lights above his head caused him to groan and snap his eyelids shut. He waited a few minutes before once more opening them and lifting his head. There were four lights in total, one above his head, one above his feet and two on either side of him, just below his elbows. A small flashing red light above his feet told him a camera was on and that he was being watched. Turning his head slightly he realized he was in a coffin like box. A tube down by his feet led out of the coffin and he could hear the slight hiss of oxygen being fed into his tiny prison. The faint musty smell of damp earth was something he didn't want to think about. The small, cramped space he was in barely provided room for him to move. He could turn on his side and bend his knees partway but he couldn't reach the tube down by his feet. Panic set in as he realized the tiny space was similar to a coffin and the musty smell could only mean he was buried underground.
"Are you enjoying your solitary confinement, Larabee? There's three bottles of water beside you. Make them count because once they're gone there'll be no more. I also provided you with some of those little ready made snack'n'crackers. I hope you're not allergic to peanut butter or cheese. Once more you'd better take it easy on them because there'll be no more. Now I would advise you to have a little drink while you can see what you're doing because lights go out in five minutes. Four minutes fifty five seconds. Four minutes fifty one seconds. Oh this should be fun, Larabee. Almost like the countdown to when a bomb goes off only in your case it's when the lights go off and you are well and truly alone."
"Go to hell," the blond snarled.
"Time's running out. Four minutes and twenty eight seconds. Hope you're not claustrophobic!"
Chris lifted the bottle, opened the lid and took a small sip before sealing it once more. His head pounded incessantly and he closed his eyes, fighting the raw panic he felt clouding his mind. Don't let him see how much this bothers you, Larabee! he thought as exhaustion and pain soon drew him back into the waiting arms of sleep.
The taunting, disembodied voice continued its downward spiral. "Three minutes twelve seconds. Are you sleeping, Larabee? Oh well, no matter. Two minutes fifty five seconds. This really is going to be so much fun. I wonder how long it'll take to break you?"
Chris drowned out the countdown as he finally lapsed into a deep sleep. He didn't hear the final "One Second" and didn't know when the lights went out leaving him in an utterly cloying darkness.
Vin Tanner reached for his cell phone on the first ring. He'd left Chris's ranch and headed straight for the office, half expecting his stubborn friend to be there. "Tanner," he said as he stepped off the elevator.
"Hey, Brother," a deep baritone voice greeted him.
"Josiah, where are ya guys?"
"We're at the airport in LA. Our flight leaves in an hour. We wanted to see if there was any word from Chris."
"I tried to call ya last night," Tanner explained as he checked Larabee's office.
"What's wrong, Vin?" the older man was instantly alert.
"Chris came back yesterday."
"Did you talk to him? Did you give him hell? Where was he?"
"He was in a car accident before I saw..."
"Oh, Lord, is he alright?" Sanchez interrupted.
"I don't know, Josiah. We argued and I left him in the hospital. Dr. Midland said he had a concussion and some bruisin' where his chest hit the steerin' wheel. She was keepin' him overnight for observation and I left him there!"
"Is he still in the hospital?"
"No. He was sent home this mornin'."
"So it couldn't have been too bad. Is that where you are now?"
"No, Josiah. Look, Chris and I had an argument about him takin' off like he did. I left last night and told him I was gonna resign."
"Vin, don't do anything rash. We'll all help you set him straight when we get back tonight."
"Josiah, that ain't all of it."
"What else, Vin?" Sanchez asked, hearing the undertone of fear in the sharpshooter's usually cool voice.
"Dr. Midland called me later ta tell me Chris may have an aneurysm."
"That's not good," Sanchez whispered.
"Doc says it's like a tickin' timebomb and could rupture at any time."
"Jesus, Vin, is there anything else?"
"He took a taxi home this morning and was supposed ta call me when he got there."
"I take it he didn't call? Have you gone out to the ranch?"
"No, he didn't call, and yes, I've been out there. Dammit, Josiah, he wasn't there. I called the cab company that picked him up and they confirmed that he was dropped off at his ranch this mornin'."
"Where are you now, Vin?"
"At the office. I wanted ta see if he came here, but there's no sign of him. I'm goin' ta call Orrin Travis and let him know what's happenin'."
"He's not there?"
"No."
"Look, Vin, they just called our flight. I have to go. Call us if you hear from him."
"I will, Josiah. I'll pick ya guys up at the airport."
"Thanks, Vin, try not to worry to much."
"I could tell you the same thing," Tanner said as he disconnected the call. Where the hell are you, Cowboy? he thought as he dialed Travis's number.
Kurt Willard smiled as he looked at his watch. Exactly two hours ago Larabee woke and discovered where he was. Soon it would be time to turn the lights on again. Larabee would have no sense of time as he'd taken his watch. He'd be turning the lights on and off at different intervals keeping the victim disoriented and raising the level of fear. He was in total awe of his boss's plan to show the traitor that he couldn't get away with testifying against him. The tapes were being made so that others would see how futile it would be to betray Benjamin Williams. Here we go, Larabee, he thought as he counted down the final seconds until he switched on the light in the tiny underground prison.
Chris felt around in the darkness, hoping to find some way out of his prison. His elbow knocked over the bottle of water and he quickly grabbed for it as it rolled towards the other end of the oblong box. He bent his leg too quickly and gasped as it slammed against the top of his prison.
"Fuck!" he cursed as his he tried to grasp his knee only to hit his head on the roof.
"Having fun, Larabee?"
"Fuck you, Kurt!"
"So you recognize my voice. Too bad you can't see me. Want me to turn the lights on for you?"
Larabee remained quiet, not sure what would happen if he answered yes. He didn't think Kurt or his boss would turn them on if he requested it. The lack of light made the prison seem even smaller and he cringed at the thought of spending any more time in it. He listened to the darkness, waiting for Willard's voice to interrupt the unbearable solitude.
"What's the matter, Larabee, cat got your tongue? It doesn't matter you know? You don't have to answer. The lights will automatically turn on every six hours. Oh, looks like they're about to come on."
As if on cue the bright lights came on and Larabee had to close his eyes against the glaring brightness invading the tiny space. He groaned as sparks danced behind his eyes and his stomach grew nauseous. He fought the churning sensations, knowing to be sick now would mean he'd have to put up with the sour smell in the three foot by seven foot cell.
As if the man knew what he was thinking Willard's voice came through the tiny speaker. "Oh I wouldn't be sick in there if I were you. It's such a tiny place and the smell would really make it worse. By the way if you need to take a piss there's a small hose by your right hip. Anything else you're just gonna have to hold."
Chris listened to the cackling laughter and hissed, "You're a sick bastard."
"Shut up, Larabee."
"What's the matter, Kurt? Did I hit too close to home for you? You don't like being called a sick bastard?"
"You'd better eat and drink something before the lights are turned out again. You have five minutes. Four minutes and fifty seven seconds."
"Son of a bitch," the blond snarled as he heard the hated voice counting off the few minutes of light he had left. He opened a package of the crackers, noting that there were six packages of each kind.
"Four minutes thirteen seconds. Are you enjoying the food, Larabee? Not exactly a gourmet meal, but it'll be the last food you'll ever get to eat."
Chris didn't bother answering as he slowly finished the four ready made crackers in the plastic wrap. He opened the water and lifted his head to drink a small amount. He needed to empty his bladder, but refused to do so while he was being watched. He knew Willard was staring at him from the other side of the camera and wouldn't give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing him disgraced in such a manner.
"One minute thirty seconds until lights out. Are you enjoying your final resting place, Larabee? One minute one second."
He tried to ignore the last comment, not wanting to think about this being his final resting place. He rubbed his sore chest and was glad his ribs weren't busted, as it was his chest and head were still a constant reminder of his argument with Vin Tanner. This was especially hard on him as he realized he might never get the chance to tell the sharpshooter how sorry he was. That Tanner was a brother was a given, that Larabee hurt him was something he couldn't live with. Somehow he'd make it out of here and make sure Vin knew exactly how much his friendship meant to him
"One second. Lights out. Good night Larabee. Sleep well for tomorrow is another day."
"Fuck you, Kurt," the blond hissed as the lights went out. He shifted around in the tiny confines searching for the tube Kurt said would be there. There's gotta be a way out of this, he thought as his hand grasped the small tube.
"Jesus, Vin, you look like shit," Wilmington observed when he took his bag from the luggage carousel.
"Fuck ya, Bucklin," the younger man drawled as he watched the others hurry towards him.
"Any word on Chris?" Jackson asked worriedly. He noted bloodshot eyes and the dark circles surrounding them and knew the young sharpshooter didn't get much sleep over the last few days.
Tanner shook his head as he led the way out of the terminal. "I've been checkin' inta the case he was workin' on. There's a lot of stuff we don't have access ta, but Orrin is callin' in a few favors and we should have some new information by the time we get back ta the office. The police won't get involved because there's no proof anythin's happened to him, especially since his last disappearance."
"Vin, are you sure you're alright?" Sanchez asked, not liking the sound of the younger man's voice.
"Yeah, Josiah, I am," Tanner said as he opened the door to the large seven seat passenger van owned by The Firm and used whenever they needed the extra seating. Luggage was thrown haphazardly into the trunk and six men piled into the van. The front seat remained ominously empty as the men automatically left it for the man who usually took it when Vin Tanner was driving.
Wilmington noticed it and moved to the front seat in order to watch the younger man's reactions. "Why don't we head for Chris's ranch first?" he asked.
"That's where I was headed. Figured maybe with all of us lookin' we might find out what happened. It's just so fuckin' weird for him ta do this. I mean I know he disappeared on us when he went undercover and I know ya guys read the faxes from Travis explainin' what we've discovered but this just don't sit right. Somethin's happened ta him, but I just can't lay my fingers on what it is. He's in trouble, Buck, and we need ta find him fast."
Sanchez and Jackson looked at each other, both men knew something was bothering the younger man, evidenced by his over-talkative state. "Vin, I know you feel bad about what happened when you went to see Chris at the hospital, but it's not your fault," Sanchez stated.
"It is so, Josiah, if I hadn't been so angry we wouldn't have fought and I'd've stayed at the hospital with him last night and gone home with him this mornin'! He'd be in the hospital right now where he belongs and not out there somewhere doin' God only knows what."
"Vin, Chris is a grown man. There's no way you could've known what he was going to do," Jackson explained.
"He was hurt, Nate and I piled inta him about goin' off on his own without lettin' any of us know where he was or what the hell he was doin'!"
"Look, Vin, I've known Chris longer than any of you and if he thinks he's gotta do something on his own, he will, and damn the consequences. He's his own man and it may be hard, but sometimes we just have to leave him alone and let him make his own mistakes."
"Even if those mistakes can get him killed, Buck?" Tanner spat.
"That's right. I don't like it but that's Chris. If he thought there was a danger to one of us or to The Firm or any of his friends he'd jump in feet first. Thing is, Vin, I think we're all like that. Can you honestly say you wouldn't do the same thing?" He looked at his friend and knew the Texan's answer without having to hear the actual words. He turned and looked out the window and wondered what Chris Larabee was doing right now.
There was silence in the van as each man thought about Buck's question. All six coming to the same conclusion, they'd do anything to protect their friends and deal with the aftermath of their actions when all was said and done. Vin drove towards Chris's ranch hardly seeing the beautiful greenery all around them, wondering where their leader was and what he was doing.
Jesus, I'm beginning to hate the fuckin' dark, he thought as he tried to calm his breathing. So far the lights were turned on three times and he figured eighteen hours had passed if Kurt told him the truth about six hour intervals. He hated not being able to see and was fighting to keep the panic from sending him into an even worse darkness than the one he resided in right now.
"I'll kill you, you sonofabitch," he spat, not realizing the words had spilled from his throat until laughter filled the tiny confines of the coffin like prison. "You Bastard," he swore as pain stabbed through his head and his stomach churned heavily.
"Uhoh, Larabee, are we losing it already?"
"You'll lose it when I get out of here. I promise I'll make you regret the day your mother gave birth to you," he snarled.
"But you won't be getting out of there, Larabee. That's the beauty of it! You're in your final resting place! I even have the music ready for when you take your last breath. Do you have a favorite hymn you'd like played at your funeral. It's too bad your friends won't be here for your send off," Kurt laughed.
"My friends will get here and when they get me out of this..."
"By the time they find out where you are it'll be too late. You'll already be dead and buried," the laughter got louder and the disembodied voice gasped as it continued talking. "That's funny. Y...you're already buried s...so w...we just h...have to w...wait for y...you to g...get d...dead."
Larabee tried to tune out the words and knew he'd hear them repeated for the rest of his life. He almost laughed as he thought of how short his life could be if the team didn't find him soon. Don't let him get to you, Larabee. Don't show him how much you hate this. That's what he's after.
"What's the matter, Larabee, don't feel like talking anymore? Oh well, that's okay cause here come the lights."
"Jesus," Chris swore as the bright overhead light stabbed his eyes. He blinked in rapid succession, waiting for the pain to stop.
"Hey, Larabee, too bad we never thought to give you a book to read when the lights came on. It must be kinda boring where you are. Hey, maybe it would help if I read you a story. Let me see maybe something by R. L. Stine. I know they're kiddie books, but I so enjoyed Are You Afraid of the Dark."
"That's just about your speed," the prisoner gasped as he opened a package of crackers, ate them and followed them with a sip from the water bottle.
"Are you insulting me?"
"Figure it out for yourself, Moron," the blond told the pouting voice as he swallowed another small sip of water.
"Moron? Oh my, but you really are getting petty now. I almost forgot the countdown. Where are we? Oh yes. Two minute fifty two seconds."
Chris savored the few minutes of light he had left, grabbing onto it as if it was the most precious commodity the world had to offer. Tears stung his eyes as he realized he might never see the light in Vin Tanner's blue eyes or any of the other guys' eyes again. His back ached and he turned on his side in hopes of alleviating the pain. He lifted his right hand under his head and tried to drown out the hated reminder of the world outside his prison. Christ, Vin, I'm sorry, he thought as he remembered the argument in the hospital. He drifted towards sleep as the final few seconds were counted off and the overhead lights winked out once more.
"Shit!"
"Vin, what's wrong?" Jackson asked as the young man slammed his hand on the steering wheel.
"Just a feelin', Nate, somethin's wrong but I can't put my finger on what it is. We just gotta find him fast."
"I feel the same way, Vin," the ladies' man cringed at the dark feelings running through his mind. "I have a feeling Chris is in more trouble than we know."
"A possible aneurysm is bad enough, Buck," Jackson told him.
"I know that, Nate, but there's more to this. Like Vin said I think we'd best find Chris and not just for his physical well being," Wilmington's voice grew soft as Tanner pulled into Larabee's driveway.
The six friends hurried to get out of the van, which had suddenly taken on a claustrophobic atmosphere for each of them. Vin unlocked the door to the house and stepped into the darkened interior. "Maybe we should see if he's back," the sharpshooter suggested hopefully.
They split up and searched the house, barn, and surrounding grounds, meeting back in the living room when the search ended unsuccessfully.
"Dammit he can't just have disappeared!" Wilmington snapped, pacing the floor anxiously.
"Might I remind you gentlemen that Mr. Larabee did just that when he went undercover without informing the rest of us," Standish told them.
Five pairs of eyes turned towards the gambler, their faces showing just how much they remembered how tense things were when Chris disappeared without a word. They'd tried to find out where he went, but their inquiries were halted before they got off the ground.
Vin sat on the couch, his head in his hands as he let his thoughts drift back over his friendship with The Firm's leader. That friendship had seen both men through some trying times and he prayed that it would get them through whatever they were about to face. Where are ya, Cowboy? He rubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to keep the deep exhaustion at bay. His eyes wandered over an area of the coffee colored carpet a few feet in front of the sofa. He stood up, feeling five men watching him as he stalked across the small space.
"Vin, what's wrong?"
Tanner heard JD's voice but ignored him as he knelt down and tentatively touched the dried spot, so like the color of the carpet yet just a slightly different shade.
"Did you find something, Vin?" Wilmington asked as he knelt beside the younger man.
"I think this is blood," Tanner told him.
The ladies' man looked at the small blotch and nodded his head. "I think you're right. Maybe it's time we got forensics in here."
"Buck, this doesn't mean anything yet," Jackson said.
"What do you mean, Nathan? This is blood."
"Vin, didn't you say Chris had a cut on his head?"
"Yeah."
"This could be from that," Jackson told them. "It doesn't mean anything happened to him."
"Nathan, somethin's happened and I'll be damned if I'm just gonna sit by and wait ta see if I'm right," Tanner snapped.
"I'm with you, Vin. Nathan, we gotta check this out."
"Alright, Buck, you and Vin stay here and wait for Forensics. The rest of us will go back to the office and see if Orrin's been able to find out anything."
"That's fine, Nate, we'll be there as soon as the police are finished," the mustached man muttered as he picked up the phone to call Robert Miller, Captain of the Billings' police department, and their long time friend.
Don't think about it, Larabee, he almost laughed as he opened his eyes to the familiar absence of light. He reached for the bottle of water and took a small sip, letting the water trickle down his dry throat.
"Awake again, Larabee?"
Chris didn't answer the hated voice as he recapped the bottle, placing it back in his tiny cache. He wished he could return to the warmth of his dreams, but knew that wasn't going to happen. Willard's voice would taunt him and keep him awake and aware of his surroundings. Reminding him that this was where he'd be spending eternity.
"Don't feel like talking? Oh, well, I'll do the talking for us both. Benny should be here soon. He's been worried about you. He wants to make sure you're comfortable in your new digs," the cackling laughter came once more, erupting through the speakers and grating on the blonds frazzled nerves. "Get it, Larabee? You're buried! New digs! Damn, I'm good."
Chris wanted so much to wipe the smile off the other man's face. To stick him in a box and bury him in the ground. To taunt him with snide remarks and throw his own jokes back in his face. His breathing grew ragged as he felt the small confines closing in on him. Calm down, Larabee, don't lose it now. The guys'll find you and they'll get you out of this mess. Think about something else. Close your eyes and just pretend your sleeping, he thought as he took slow deep breaths in an effort to stay calm.
"Sounds like it's getting to you, Larabee, don't worry only two and a half hours before your next light fix. Bet you can hardly wait."
"I swear I'll get you, Kurt, and I'll make fuckin' sure you know what it's like to be in the dark!" Larabee hissed, the slight tremor in his voice was even audible to his own ears. Oh, God, let me have the chance, he thought as the pain in his head intensified and he passed out.
Seven am found six men gathered in Orrin Travis's office. The exhaustion and worry on the seven faces was evidence that no one had slept, that each man wanted to find their missing friend.
Vin had kept in touch with Stacey Midland who informed him that all was ready at the hospital when they found the missing agent. No one wanted to express the thought on each of their minds. What if the aneurysm burst and Chris Larabee was lying dead somewhere, his body as yet undiscovered?
The police were thorough in their search of Larabee's ranch and forensics took fingerprints as well as cutting away the section of carpet with the spot of blood on it. Miller promised to call them as soon as the results were in.
"Orrin, were you able to find out exactly what Chris was working on?" Sanchez asked.
"I pulled a few strings, called in a few favors."
"And?" Wilmington asked.
"Chris went undercover in the Williams organization."
"Sonofabitch!" Wilmington exclaimed.
"What would possess Mr. Larabee to try to infiltrate that scum filled lot?" Standish asked.
"Chris had a call from an old friend of his in the Bureau. From what I could gather he convinced Chris that Williams was planning a hit on certain members of The Firm."
"What? Who?" Dunne asked, his eyes darting from one man to the other.
"We don't know who. Only Chris knows the answer to that question. I know before the accident he was at the courthouse giving testimony in a closed session. I couldn't get any information as to what he was testifying about but I'm pretty sure it had to do with Williams."
"Benjamin Williams is a lowlife, but he's also a smart man. He's been able to eliminate anyone who's tried to testify against him. If he has Chris..."
"I know, Josiah, if he has Chris then it's almost a certainty that he's..."
"Don't say it, Orrin. Chris ain't dead. He's out there somewhere. He's in trouble but he's still out there. I can't help but feel he's somewhere close by and if we just dig deep enough we'll find out where the bastard is keepin' him."
"Vin, I hope you're right," Travis told him. "Either way we need to find..." The phone ringing beside him made him flinch but he picked up the receiver before it had the chance to ring again. He listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. Answering yes or no as needed. His face betraying nothing of the conversation he was hearing. Finally he dropped the receiver into its cradle and looked at his men. "That was Miller."
"What did he have to say?" Jackson asked.
"The blood definitely belonged to Chris and was fairly recent."
"Any fingerprints?" Tanner asked.
"They lifted a couple of clear prints, discarded the ones belonging to any of us, but they haven't been able to get a match on the others yet."
"I say we concentrate on Benjamin Williams. If we ascertain his whereabouts we'll find our missing leader," Standish told them.
"Do we have an address on Williams?" Wilmington asked.
"We have a couple. One of them is here in Billings."
"Where?" Tanner asked.
"Now just hold on, Vin. If we go busting in there without a plan it'll just end up getting Chris killed if he's there. We need to come up with a way to get in there without Williams becoming suspicious," Sanchez warned
"Maybe one of us could deliver something to Williams," Dunne suggested.
"That won't work, JD," Travis said.
"Why?"
"If Chris went under because one or more of you guys was in danger then Williams might recognize whoever went in."
"Orrin," Sanchez spoke softly, but he had their full attention "You have something in mind already. Haven't you?"
Travis nodded as he looked at his men. "You all know my daughter-in-law and what she does for a living?"
"Yeah," Tanner answered.
"Well I've asked her to see if she can get an interview with Williams."
"Isn't that dangerous for Mrs. Travis?" Jackson asked.
"Mary's a professional, Nathan, she knows what she's doing and she's interviewed a lot of dangerous people. She can handle herself," Travis assured them.
"I bet she can," Wilmington grinned as a picture of the confident blond haired woman came to mind. "What did she say?"
"She's going to stop by his home this morning and pay a surprise visit on him. She's done it a few times and it's amazing how many interviews she's gotten with people who would otherwise refuse," Travis's pride in his daughter-in-law came shining through in his words. "She'll call me as soon as she's finished."
"Well, I'm not gonna just sit around and wait for Mrs. Travis or the police ta call. JD, let's see what we can come up with on the computer. Maybe we can find a few other places where Chris might be," Tanner said, impatient to find his friend and apologize for the argument that repeatedly ran through his mind.
Chris had no idea how long ago the lights were turned on, he just knew that he needed to feel their familiarity. He tried to concentrate on staying calm, but the longer he remained in this box, the harder it was to hold on to his sanity. When the lights were suddenly turned on without Kurt's usual warning he'd reached up and touched the orb overhead as if it provided a link with the outside world.
"Larabee, got someone here wants to say hello."
"Hello, Christopher, you don't look so cock-sure of yourself right now. Is there a problem with your accommodations?"
"Let me out of here and I'll show you," Larabee hissed.
"That's not going to happen, dear boy," Williams used the nickname he'd used on his nemesis from the minute they'd met. Larabee managed to worm his way into his organization so fast and now Williams knew he'd made a big mistake in trusting the man who'd saved his life. "You might as well relax and enjoy the time you have remaining. By the time your friends discover your final resting place I'll be long gone. You do realize you cost me everything? I have to disappear not only because of your upcoming testimony, but because the rest of the organization is pissed off at me and I now have a price on my head. The only bright spot in this is knowing you'll be dead and no one will find you. You'll lie where you are for all eternity and rot in an unmarked grave. A fitting revenge I might add. Well, dear boy, it's time for lights out. Enjoy the next six hours of darkness. I know I will."
The light winked out and Chris felt the unending darkness and silence return. He reached up and held the orb, feeling the warmth leaving the glass as it cooled in the darkness. He had no idea how long he held onto it, but his arms ached as he let them fall back to his side. He groaned as he realized he'd knocked over one of the water bottles and felt for it in the dark.
Oh, God, I can't do this, he thought as his breathing grew ragged. Tears filled his eyes at the thought of being alone in this place, away from his friends, with no one to care whether he lived or died.
Alone in the dark he tried to think of something to get his mind off the emptiness. Games, Larabee, what kind of games can you play in the dark. Hide and Seek, a low almost hysterical laugh caught in his throat. That's a good one. How many times can I find myself.
"Wanna let me in on the joke?"
Larabee felt some of the panic leave him at the sound of the voice, "Go look in the mirror!" he gasped.
"Insults again, Larabee? Hmm, I was going to keep you company but since you prefer to be on your own I will leave you to it. Enjoy the next five hours and fifty minutes. I'll just go have a nap. Sleep tight," Kurt's cackling laughter once more invaded the tiny confines of the box.
"Fuck you, asshole," Larabee hissed in his best Terminator impersonation. He knew he was truly alone when no answer came through the speakers. Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to think of anything, but the closed in space he resided in. Come on, Larabee, think of the games you played with A...Adam, he thought and almost instantly he started naming horses. Alright, horses it is. TV horses. Trigger and Roy Rogers. That was too easy. Silver and the Lone Ranger. Cochise and Little Joe Cartwright. Come on Larabee think of a hard one. Topper. Come on Larabee you know this one. Think. William Boyd as Hopalong Cassidy riding Topper, a beautiful white as he appeared in the Greatest Show On Earth, he continued to think of the horses as he drifted towards sleep. His last thoughts brought a smile to his face as his voice filled the darkness.
"Pony belongs to Chris Larabee and Peso belongs to Vin Tanner. May not be TV, but the best damn horse flesh there ever was."
Mary stood before the door of the imposing mansion owned by Benjamin Williams. Her worry for Chris Larabee made her anxious to get into the home and find out whatever she could. The call from her father in law terrified her and she was ready and willing to help out in any way she could. She rang the doorbell again and turned around to look at the well-manicured lawns and overhanging willow trees. The flowers surrounding the house scented the air in a fragrant perfume no manufacturer could hope to capture. Rose bushes were in full bloom along the front of the house and the vibrant colors assaulted her senses. So enthralled was she in the glory of nature she didn't hear the big door open behind her until a woman's voice pulled her back to reality.
"Can I help you?"
Mary smiled at the plump, grey haired woman, "Hi, yes you can. At least I hope you can. My name is Mary Mitchell and I'm from the mayor's office. I have an appointment with," she opened the small ledger and pretended to study it. "Mr Benjamin Williams. Would you tell him I'm here please."
"Mr. Williams cancelled all his appointments for the next two weeks."
"That can't be!" Mary exclaimed. "I have it right here. Benjamin Williams, Thursday morning, eleven am."
"That may be Ms. Mitchell, but he's not here and not expected to return for at least two weeks."
"This is just not fair. I finally get a chance to talk to one of the mayor's best supporters and you tell me he's cancelled our meeting. He's going to fire me for sure," Mary took her role seriously and felt tears well up in her eyes.
"Oh, My Dear, I'm so sorry, but there's nothing I can do," the housekeeper was sympathetic to her tears. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder.
"Nothing's going right for me. If I lose this job my husband's going to be so angry," Mary opened her eyes as the woman wrapped her beefy arms around her. Hook, line, and sinker, she thought as the woman led her inside.
"There, my dear, you rest right here while I get you some tea."
"Oh thank you," Mary sobbed as the woman left the room, closing the door behind her.
Mary Travis knew what she was doing. Years of being a newspaper reporter as well as having a father-in-law who ran an agency like The Firm had taught her to make her time in a mark's home count. She knew she was in a library and she headed straight to the large desk by the window. The drapes were already drawn and she pulled open the top drawer of the desk. She grabbed the papers and flipped through them quickly. The second drawer contained simple property documents and she shoved them into her purse to peruse later. She checked the bottom drawer and found a black leather bound journal filled with numbers and addresses. It soon joined the documents in her purse and she hurried back to the sofa, sitting down just as the door opened.
An hour later Mary Travis stepped out of the house with many thanks to the woman for her sympathy. She drove away from the home and headed for the offices of The Firm.
Chris was awake again, or at least he thought he was. The darkness was a constant reminder of where he was and he wondered if he'd ever see the light of day again. He'd been trying to keep track of the length of time he'd been in the box but wasn't positive he'd counted correctly. He knew at least thirty six hours had passed since he'd first come to and discovered his new home. But he wasn't sure that was accurate as he couldn't be sure he'd been awake each time the lights were turned on.
Chris reached for the second water bottle, knowing it would soon join its empty partner leaving him with one bottle of water between himself and sure death. He still had eight packages of crackers because his stomach couldn't handle anything solid. A heady sense of intoxication resulted from the cloying darkness each time the lights winked out. The last time resulted in his laughing hysterically until tears streamed from his eyes.
Calm down, Larabee, don't lose it. Won't be long now and the guys will find you, he'd repeated that line so often it had become something to ease him thorough the first few minutes until his mind kicked in with a new game. He'd ran through Ninety Nine bottles of beer on the wall, his mouth and throat reminding him how long it had been since he'd had a cold brew.
The earthy smell continued to seep into his prison, but was now accompanied by a cold dampness and caused his body to shiver uncontrollably. His teeth began to chatter and he tried to think of other things.
"Cold, Larabee?"
"What the hell do you think," the blond snarled.
"Temper. Temper."
"You'll see my temper when I get out of this fuckin' hole!"
"Still dreaming of a rescue? It ain't gonna happen ya know?"
"Yes it will," Larabee's voice sounded deflated to his own ears and he turned onto his side. Jesus, guys, help me out here. I don't want to spend the rest of my life stuck in this fucking box, he thought. Please, God, help them find me.
"I wish I could see what you're doing right now, Larabee, but it's one hour and forty two minutes before you get your reward. How've you been sleeping? Having any nightmares? Missing your friends?" The voice went silent for a few minutes before speaking again. "Not talking anymore, Larabee? Ain't I good enough for you?"
Larabee wouldn't acknowledge the hated voice, tired of the constant taunting the man seemed to enjoy. Think of your desk, Chris, he heard a soft voice, he recognized as Sarah, suggested.
He pictured the organized chaos of his desk top at the ranch. Paperclips, work orders, dirty coffee mug, should've washed that before I left. Four pencils, one pen. A...Adam's bronzed b...baby boot, his throat constricted on the last thought, but a warmth flowed through his body at the thought of the gift from Sarah on Adam's first birthday. Picture of the guys from last Christmas. I have to get a frame for that. Coffee stained desk calendar, unopened mail, letter opener. A deck of cards, thanks Ez, his mind started to drift as he ticked off the things he knew were on his desk. Things that could make him feel as if he were home. Things that helped him escape the torment of the box. It wasn't long before the still trembling body of Chris Larabee succumbed to the call of sleep.
"Mary's on her way up," Travis told the men surrounding Larabee's desk.
"Did she find out anything?" Jackson asked.
"I don't know, Nathan," Travis answered softly.
Mary hurried from the elevator and pulled open the door to the outer offices of The Firm. She knew where the men were and she rushed into the office, gratefully accepting a chair from Josiah Sanchez. She opened her purse and pulled out the papers and ledger from Williams' office. "Williams is out of town," she said as she passed the documents to her father in law. "I talked with his housekeeper and it seems he left rather hurriedly this morning. He told her he'd be gone for a couple of weeks at least."
"I thought the FBI was keeping him under observation until after he's sentenced?" Dunne asked.
"They were. I'll check with Mark and see if he has any idea where Williams is," Travis told them as he passed the papers around the room.
"He's gone, Orrin, she saw him take his bags and the chauffeur came back and told her he'd caught his plane," Mary explained. "I didn't get much of a chance to look around his library, but I did find those papers and that ledger. I think the papers may give us a lead to some of his other holdings around here. The ledger seems to be a list of contacts and bank accounts. He must've forgot to lock it up before he left."
"JD."
"Yes, Josiah?"
"Run these addresses through the database and see if any of them are near the city. I have a feeling Chris is closer than we think."
"I hope you're right, Josiah, I've been talking to Dr. Midland and the longer Chris goes without treatment the bigger the chance of the aneurysm rupturing."
"Nathan, she said possible aneurysm."
"I know, Vin but do you want to take that kind of chance? I sure as hell don't! I want to get him help as fast as we can and make sure of what we're dealing with."
JD moved to his desk and started running the properties through the system. He kept his ears tuned to the conversation going on in Larabee's private office. Travis was telling Mary she'd taken a big chance when she'd stolen the papers from the house. He smiled as he heard her answer.
"Angie invited me back for tea this evening. I figured I could put them back at that time."
"I didn't know you were so sneaky, My Dear," Travis said with a grin.
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Orrin," Mary smiled, as the men continued to go over the papers spread out on the desk.
"He seems to own a lot of property for a man who had nothing two years ago," Jackson commented.
"Maybe he had a good certified accountant," Standish offered.
"Or maybe he won the lottery," Dunne called from the outer office.
"According to the ledger he's worth two point five million dollars and that's just his legal holdings," Travis told them.
"Orrin, did you find out why Chris went after him the way he did? I mean I know we mentioned there was a possibility that one or more of us was slated to be hit, but he normally wouldn't go off on something as dangerous as this without back-up," Sanchez asked.
"Not much more than we already know. There was definitely a hit slated. Who or how many is not known. Mark has assured me the threat is over. None of you are in danger anymore."
"I've got something," Dunne called.
"What've ya got?" Tanner asked as they joined the young man at his desk.
"He owns an old ranch on Pryor Creek Road."
"Where?" Wilmington, who'd remained quiet through most of the meeting asked.
"It's approximately thirty miles South of here towards Hardin."
"I know that area. Rain lives just outside Hardin," Jackson told them.
"Alright, Kid, print it off and let's check it out," Wilmington ordered.
"Buck, you boys be careful out there. Just check the house and if Chris is not there don't do anything stupid," Travis ordered.
"If he is there?" Tanner asked.
"Do whatever you need to do to get him out! Make sure you keep in touch."
"We will, Orrin," Sanchez assured the older man.
"Vin."
"Yes, Mary."
The newspaperwoman reached out and grasped the sharpshooter's arm. "Find him," she said simply holding back the tears she felt so close to the surface.
Tanner nodded as the men headed for the door. A tenseness and excitement seemed to permeate the air as they hurried to the elevator. Each man kept his thoughts hidden but there was no doubt in either man's mind that they needed to find their friend and leader before it was too late.
"Here's your five minutes in the spotlight, Larabee."
"Thank God."
"Shouldn't that be thanks, Kurt?"
"Fuck you," Larabee hissed as he realized he'd spoken aloud.
"That's gettin' old, Larabee."
Chris reached for the bottle of water, his hands trembling from the cold. Somehow he managed to get it open and drink half the bottle before he remembered he needed to conserve as much of it as he could. "Jesus, Larabee, that was stupid."
"Uhoh, Larabee, I think you're losing it. I mean the first sign of going crazy is talking to yourself and it seems to me you've been doing a lot of that in your new home. You feeling lonely or something?"
"Just shut the fuck up, Kurt!" the blond cried as he flailed at the walls of his tiny prison. "Godammit, let me out of here you psycho son of a bitch."
"Actually, Larabee, it kinda sounds like you're the raving psycho. You lasted longer than I thought though, I'll give you that. Forty two hours in such a small space with only a few minutes of light gotta be hard on a man. Only one thing I could think of that would make it worse. Having snakes in there to keep me company. You know I really hate the slithery things. Oh, hang on gotta answer my cell phone."
Larabee tried to control his breathing, tried to remember the guys had to be searching for him. Owe you guys one hell of an apology when I get outta here. I'm sorry, Vin, didn't mean to fight with you. You were right about everything. Should never have went off like that, hysterical laughter bubbled from his throat as he reached up to touch the light.
"Get me outta here!" he screamed.
"No can do, Larabee. I have to go. I don't think I'll be coming back. Seems like you haven't got much time left anyway. I know you had a full minute left with the light, but gotta go."
"No!" Larabee's terrified scream echoed from the speakers as the light in the box winked out. " No! God! No! Please I can't do this." No answering taunt came through the speakers and Chris Larabee knew he was alone. Alone in a dark world that mirrored his soul. A world that held no light, no warmth and worst of all no friends. The soft cries remained trapped in the box with him as he tried to ignore the deep seeded darkness that enveloped his body and mind.
Jackson drove down Pryor Creek Road, passing only one car along the way. His eyes were drawn to the candy apple red corvette but he didn't pay it much attention as Sanchez's voice drew him back to the road.
"Keep your eyes peeled, it can't be much further."
"What's the number again, JD?" Wilmington asked.
"Fifty seven Pryor creek Road."
"Well it's got to be on the north side and it should be coming up soon," Tanner observed as they struggled to make out the florescent numbers on the mailboxes.
"We just passed Forty Nine," Standish told them as all eyes watched the darkened fields they passed.
They drove on down the lonely stretch of road, slowing each time they came upon a mailbox. Standish continued to read off the numbers and the tension in the van rose to dangerous levels as he read Fifty Seven.
Nathan turned into the tree lined drive, not bothering to slow down in his haste to get to the darkened ranch house at the end of the mile long lane. He pulled to a stop and breathed deeply at the empty feel of the place. The house was dark and there were no lights in any of the windows. He wondered if they'd made a mistake that cost Chris time he might not have.
Tanner was the first man out of the van, He looked to the windows and then turned towards the large oak doors. Are you here, Cowboy? he thought and hurried towards the door.
His shoulders and upper body convulsed as it dawned on him that he'd never feel the sun on his face again, or the simple pleasure of turning on a light, or lighting birthday candles. He couldn't see his hand as he reached up to wipe the tears from his face. His breathing once more grew haggard as panic took over and he knew beyond a doubt that this was his final resting place. His thoughts turned to Ebenezer Scrooge and he knew how the old man must have felt when the ghost of the future showed him the unmarked, unloved grave, overgrown with weeds and dead grass.
"No!" he screamed once more, his hands beating at the unmovable obstacle holding him prisoner. "Please, somebody help me!"
Tanner tried the door, surprised to find it opened easily.
"Careful, Vin," Sanchez warned, stepping up beside the younger man.
"I know," the sharpshooter assured him as he stepped into the house, his gun drawn and held out in front of him. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he knew the room was empty except for him and the men who followed him inside.
"I don't think anyone's here," Dunne whispered.
"We need to make sure, Kid," Wilmington answered.
"Alright, let's split up," Sanchez suggested. "Nathan, Ezra, and myself will take the upper floor. You guys check down here."
Tanner nodded as the three men headed for the stairs. "Be careful," he warned.
"You too," Jackson ordered.
"You bastard!" he screamed as no answer came back to him from the speakers. "Kurt, please, just turn the light back on," he mumbled fearfully. He shivered and his teeth chattered as he reached for the water to soothe his throat. He'd screamed so much since the lights were turned out that his throat ached and his head once more throbbed painfully.
JD Dunne moved towards the closed door, his gun held tightly in his right hand as he reached for the handle. He slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.
"Jesus, Kurt, please just turn on the light. I don't want to die in the fuckin' dark! Goddamn it, turn on the light," he sobbed hysterically.
"Chris?" Dunne cried as he heard the pitiful plea for light.
"Oh, God, help me! C...can't b...breathe. D...don't w...want to d...die in h...here."
"Jesus, Chris, where are you?" When no answer was forthcoming JD called for help. "Vin, I hear him!" he shouted as he moved into the darkened room. "Chris, we're here." His eyes were drawn to a flashing green light across the room and he raced towards it, barking his shin on a low table next to the desk.
"JD, what's wrong?" Tanner asked as he pushed into the room only to draw up short as a voice cried out, a voice he needed to hear more than any other.
"S...sorry, Vin, I...it was all my f...fault. Y...you w...were right. S...so sorry. G...gonna die before a...apologizing t...to a...all of y...you. M...miss you g...guys. Oh, Jesus, I c...can't breath."
Tanner's eyes filled with tears, but he refused to let them fall. He could hear the haggard breathing and recognized the sharp edge of panic in the words. "Where the hell is he?" he asked as he looked around the darkened room.
"I don't know, Vin. I mean I can hear him, but it sounds as if it's coming from a speaker," Dunne explained as he sat in the chair located in front of the desk.
"What's going on? Oh, Jesus, is that Chris?" Wilmington asked as he entered the room.
"It's him," Tanner hissed. "Buck, try the damn switch. If that computer is working there must be power."
Bright light flooded the room as the ladies' man flicked the switch to the right of the door. The furniture in the room was covered in plastic except for the chair JD was seated in and the desk that held the computer.
Sanchez, Standish, and Jackson picked that moment to enter the room. Before either man could speak they heard the low sobbing cries and the continuing words of apology their friend was repeating over and over in a terror filled, hiccupping voice.
"Chris!" Sanchez called loudly as he looked around the well lit room.
"JD, what're you doing?" Wilmington asked angrily as the kid continued to play with the keyboard. "Leave that thing and help us find Chris!"
"No, Buck, look Chris's voice is coming over the speakers. If I can get into it I might be able to find out where he is. There's some kind of video feed into the computer as well. I checked but there's no tape. Hold on, it's booting up," he told them as he switched on the video feed.
Chris trembled in his tiny prison, his voice his only company as he tried to contain the panic caused by the claustrophobic darkness. He knew he was crying, knew the fear was approaching childish levels, but he couldn't fight it anymore. "Please, Kurt, I d...don't c...care if I...I die, b...but p...please don't m...make me do it in t...the dark." He knew he was begging, but he didn't care, he needed to feel as if he were part of the outside world again.
"There's nothing there, JD, come on we need to find Chris."
"Wait, Josiah," Dunne snapped as he flipped a switch.
"Oh, Jesus, thank you. Thank you!" Larabee gasped as the dark world he was trapped in suddenly flooded with light. His hands reached up to touch the bright orb once more as he felt the tears flowing down his cheeks.
"Oh, shit," JD cursed as the camera feed came through the monitor.
"Sweet Jesus," Sanchez exclaimed as he saw Chris Larabee stretched out in what could only be described as a coffin. There was barely enough room for the lean blond to turn over and Sanchez felt his anger rising.
Tanner moved to the desk and picked up the mic. "Chris, listen ta me. We're gonna get you outta there," he said, noting the pained expression on his best friend's face. He watched Larabee's hands caress the light over his head and knew he couldn't hear them.
"Please, don't turn it out. I'll do a...anything you s...say. Just don't turn it out," Larabee begged.
"He can't hear you, Vin," Standish observed, his hands shaking at the thought of being trapped in a box and unable to move. "JD, there, the button isn't quite on."
Dunne flipped the switch.
"Chris, we're here."
"Don't turn it out. Please, just don't turn it out," Larabee's hands continued to reach for the light above him.
"Come on, Cowboy, talk ta me."
Larabee let the familiar voice wash over him and felt his body tremble. "Dammit, Larabee, now you're hearing things. Let me out! I don't want to die in this fuckin' hole," he screamed.
"Chris, Pard, it's us. Yer not hearin' things."
Silence again as Larabee lifted his head, the blood covered gauze sat in the middle of a circle of blue and purple colors. The pale face searched the confines hoping to find the source of the voice. "V...Vin," the name tumbled from the mouth in a mixture of hope and fear.
"Yeah, Cowboy, we're gonna get ya outta there. Ya just gotta stay calm 'til we get ta ya. Alright?"
"No, V...Vin, d...don't go. D...don't let them turn out t...the light. P...please, Vin, I...I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm sorry," he cried as sobs tore through his slender frame.
"Chris, it's okay," Vin could feel the tension in the others standing behind him. He knew they wanted to talk to Chris, to soothe him, and let him know everything was going to be alright, but they were leaving it to him for now. "We're going to leave the lights on, Pard. JD's gonna stay here and talk ta ya while we find out where ya are. Think ya can stay calm fer just a little longer, Pard?"
"I...I'm s...so c...cold, Vin. H...hurry. S...smells d...dead down h...here."
Wilmington slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The thought of Chris Larabee buried alive tore at his insides and he wanted to rip something apart with his bare hands, preferably Benjamin Williams.
"Easy, Brother, we're gonna need to stay level headed. Chris needs us."
Wilmington nodded as he listened to the desperation in his friends voice.
"S...said t...this was m...my final r...resting place," Larabee continued talking, unable to stop himself from speaking to the newfound hope he had. "T...told him y...you guys'd f...find me. S...said I...I'd n...never get me out of here!" he screamed as panic born of hours alone in the dark, confined space took up residence once more. Gone was the voice of his friend and the promise of freedom and light. He was once more alone in a tiny coffin like prison.
"Just hang on, Chris. JD, keep talkin' to him," Tanner snapped as he hurried from the room.
"Chris it's me, JD, I'm gonna stay right here. You hear me? I'm gonna stay right here and talk to you."
"Get me out of here!"
"They're going to, Chris. Vin, Buck, Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra just left to find you. It's gonna be alright. It won't be long more now."
"T...too long, JD. A...already too long. N...never been a...afraid of t...the dark b...before. A...am n...now, Kid. N...never want to be in t...the d...dark a...again. D...don't turn o...out the l...light, okay, JD?"
"I won't, Chris, just keep talking to me and everything's gonna be alright."
"Ok," Larabee answered as he reached for the bottle of water. He removed the lid and lifted the bottle to his mouth. His hands trembled as he tried to drink, the water running down his chin instead of into his mouth. He cried out as he dropped the bottle and his shaking fingers were unable to stop it from rolling to the opposite end of his prison. "Gone, K...kid, w...water's all g...gone now."
"There's gonna be plenty of water as soon as they get you out of there, Chris. I'll buy you every bottle of spring water they have in Billings. You just keep talking to me. Okay."
"N...no, JD, you keep t...talking to m...me. N...need to hear a...another voice besides m...my o...own."
JD Dunne had never heard such sorrow. Knowing Chris thought of him as a lifeline made him feel as if he was doing something important. He started talking about anything and everything that came to his mind in hopes of keeping his mentor from going over the edge.
Wilmington flicked on the switches by the front door as they stepped into the front yard. His stomach churned at the thought of being buried alive. He couldn't help thinking how hard this would've been on any man and that Chris Larabee was stronger than he'd ever thought. Most men would've lost it after twenty four hours, but Chris had so far survived at least twice that. We're coming, Pard, he thought as bright lights flooded part of the front yard.
"Vin, look for anything that looks like a fresh mound of earth," Sanchez ordered as he grabbed flashlights from the van, deliberately not using the term grave.
The five men began walking the perimeter, searching for anything that remotely resembled newly overturned dirt. They separated as they moved towards the back of the house, each man using the beam from the other flashlights to let them know where they were.
"You still with me, Chris?" JD asked as he watched the other man's eyes blinking rapidly.
"T...think so, K...kid. H...hard t...to t...think. D...don't turn out t...the l...light, okay?"
"I'm not going to, Chris. You want me to talk some more?"
"N...no, t...tell me j...jokes. B...but not the t...three legged d...dawg, okay?"
"Sure, Chris. Ever heard the one about the three men and the Genie?"
"N...No," Larabee gasped.
"Well see there were three men trapped on an island..."
"Anything over your way, Josiah?" Wilmington shouted, frustrated by their lack of success..
"Nothing yet! Nathan?"
"Nothing! Not a damned thing! Ez?"
"Nothing over this way."
"Over here, I found it!" Tanner's voice drifted towards them from the back of the barn.
Four men raced around the corner, their flashlight beams falling on Vin Tanner kneeling on the ground before a mound of earth, digging at the dirt in his effort to get to the man below. "We gotta get him outta there," the tracker shouted as he continued to sink his hands into the black soil. Angered when half of each handful dropped back into the hole he'd made.
"Hang on, Vin, I'll see if we can find some shovels."
"Hurry, Josiah, we have ta get him out of there," Tanner shouted as he continued to dig savagely in the dirt. Wilmington knelt on Tanner's left and both men were surprised when the immaculately dressed Standish knelt to his right and dug his hands into the mound. They heard Sanchez and Jackson breaking into the barn, but continued to dig for the treasure they knew was waiting below.
"Here," Jackson said as he dropped two shovels by the three dirt encrusted men.
"Thanks, JD," Larabee said as he felt hysterical laughter once more slip from his dry throat. "God, Kid, t...tell them t...to h...hurry. S...so fuckin' alone d...down h...here."
"They should reach you soon, Chris. Just concentrate on my voice, okay?"
"T...trying, kid, b...but f...feel the w...walls closing in," he muttered through chattering teeth.
Hurry, Buck, I don't know if he can take much more, Dunne thought as he started to tell another joke.
Tanner used the shovel as fast as he could, his arms felt as if they were made of lead as he lifted shovel full after shovel full of the dirt. Wilmington stood behind him as the hole they were in continued to grow deeper and wider.
"Want me to take over?"
"I'm okay, Josiah," Wilmington gasped.
"Vin?"
"No!" Tanner snapped as he threw more dirt out of the hole.
JD stopped in the middle of the joke as a loud thump sounded from the speakers.
"I got something," Tanner shouted as he worked faster to get the dirt away from the wooden box.
"JD, I...I t...think they're here," Larabee gasped hopefully as the lights winked out. "NO!" he screamed.
"Jesus, what was that?" Wilmington asked as he heard a loud, mournful cry.
"Chris, we're here," Tanner said as he brushed the last of the dirt from the box, his hand fell on a broken wire as muffled cries and pounding sounded from inside. "Help me get this open!" he snapped.
Three men watched from above as Wilmington and Tanner tried to get the lid off the box.
"Jesus, he's losing it," the ladies' man cried as he pulled harder on the lid.
JD could only talk to the screaming man in hopes to keep him grounded to his sanity.
"You promised, JD, you fuckin' promised not to turn out t...the l...lights. Christ I...I t...thought y...you guys were my f...friends."
"Chris, listen to me. Vin and Buck are right above you. Listen and you'll be able to hear them. I think they must have hit the power cord and that's what happened to the lights. They're almost to you," Dunne tried to soothe the panicked man, but his cries continued to echo from the speakers.
"There's a padlock. Why the fuck would they put a padlock on it?" Tanner asked as he took the shovel Standish passed down to him. He struck at the heavy steel until he felt the mechanism give and finally tore it from the hooks. Without a word to each other the two men threw their backs into it and lifted the lid.
The first thing that hit them was the smell. Damp earth mixed with sweat and urine made their stomachs churn, but they ignored their own discomfort, knowing the man inside needed to know they were there.
"Chris," Tanner reached into the coffin, grabbing the flailing arms and pulling the hysterical man from his prison.
"Get him out of there, Vin," Wilmington ordered sharply. They struggled with the fighting blond, ignoring the sound of JD's pain filled voice, as they passed him up to the three men above them. "We got him, JD," the ladies' man said and heard the barely audible thank God in reply.
"Put him down over here, Josiah," Jackson ordered. "Ezra, get some blankets. Buck get on the radio and call for an ambulance," he shouted above Larabee's cries of rage.
"Chris, come on, yer outta there, Cowboy," Tanner soothed as he struggled to lift the limp shoulders off the ground.
"Y...you promised. S...so c...cold. S...so d...dark." Larabee didn't feel the hands and arms lifting him from the ground and wrapping protectively around him.
"Jesus, Nathan, turn on yer flashlight and point it tawards him," the sharpshooter ordered, fighting to keep the struggling blond in his arms.
"Oh, hell, he thinks he's still in there," Jackson spat as he flicked on the bright light, turning it slowly towards the two men sitting on the ground.
"See that, Chris? Nathan's got a flashlight," the Texan whispered and watched as Larabee's right hand reached out to touch the bright light.
"Give it to him, Brother."
Jackson nodded as he took Chris' right hand and placed the flashlight in it.
Larabee looked at the light, his eyes drinking in the brightness, knowing that it could be torn from him at any time. "D...don't turn it o...off," he pleaded.
"No one's gonna touch it, Cowboy," Tanner assured the blond.
"N...not a c...cowboy," Larabee's words were soft as he continued to stare at the light in his hands.
"Chris?"
"N...need to t...tell y...you I was w...wrong. Shouldn't have g...gone off l...like that. N...not g...good f...friend."
"Here, Nathan," Standish said, passing the medic two blankets.
"Josiah, can you carry him to the van?" Jackson asked as JD came running up to the group.
"Certainly," the ex-preacher said as he reached down to lift the trembling man.
"No!" Larabee cried as he felt himself being torn from the security of the arms that held him. He hugged the flashlight close to his body as he leaned into the sharpshooter.
"Chris, look at me," Tanner ordered softly. "We gotta getcha out of here. Josiah's just gonna carry ya ta the van and we'll get ya warmed up, okay?"
"J...Josiah?"
"That's right, Chris, I'm right here. We're all here and we need to get you off the ground. Will you let me help you?"
"N...not gonna turn out the l...light?"
"No, Son, you can hold onto the light."
"Vin comin'?"
"I am, Chris."
"N...not mad a...anymore?"
"No, Cowboy, nobody's mad anymore. Josiah's gonna lift ya up now, alright?"
"G...guess so. T...tired."
"You can rest in the van, Stud."
"B...Buck?" the blond asked as he was lifted by the strong arms of Josiah Sanchez.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"T...tell, JD, n...not his f...fault. Sorry."
"Buck, did you get through to the ambulance?" Jackson asked as they followed the ex-preacher to the van.
"Yeah, it's gonna meet us along the road. Called the hospital too. They're all set for Chris."
"Good," Jackson said as he opened the drivers door of the van.
"Vin, you get in and I'll pass him in to you," Sanchez ordered.
Tanner climbed into the middle seat and reached out for the injured man. As soon as Chris was beside Tanner the blond head relaxed against his shoulder.
"S...so dark, Vin," Larabee groaned as he held onto the flashlight.
"What's wrong, Pard?" Tanner asked as Jackson pulled out of the lane.
"My b...back hurts."
"Shit," Jackson hissed as he gunned the van out of the lane and onto Pryor Creek Road.
"V...Vin, y...you w...were right the other night. M...made a s...stupid choice. S...sorry. N...never want to be in t...the d...dark again. It w...was c...cold."
Tanner pulled his friend's shivering body into his own, sending warmth and strength through his touch. "It's okay, Cowboy. Everythin's gonna be fine," he said as he used his dirty right hand to stroke the dirty brow. Please, God, make it be okay, he begged as the shivering increased and tiny groans left the pale man.
"Keep an eye out for the ambulance," Jackson told Sanchez.
"What's wrong, Nathan?" the ex-preacher asked worriedly.
"Aneurysm," Jackson mouthed as he picked up the speed.
They drove for ten minutes, each man listening to the soft moans coming from the blond man Vin Tanner held.
"V...Vin."
"Yeah, Chris?" Tanner asked as Wilmington wrapped another blanket around the shivering form.
"Knew y...you g...guys would c...come," Larabee mumbled as Tanner held him closer. "T...thanks for g...getting me outta t...there."
"No problem, Chris," Tanner said as he continued to stroke the dirty forehead.
"D...don't t...think I c...coulda lasted m...much l...longer. So d....damn cold," Larabee groaned as he tried to get comfortable on the seat. "Back m...must've got kinked up in that box," he hissed as Tanner reached behind him and gently rubbed his shoulders, easing him down on the seat so his head now rested in the sharpshooter's lap. Vin bit his lip at the devastating effects of over two days buried underground. Larabee clung to the flashlight as if it was the only thing between him and death.
Jackson flashed his lights as he noticed the ambulance lights glaring ahead. He pulled the van to the side of the road and waited for the ambulance to turn around and pull in behind them. Sanchez opened the passenger side door and held it while two men wheeled a stretcher towards them.
"Chris?"
"Hmm," was the weak reply.
"The ambulance is here ta take ya ta the hospital," Tanner explained.
"N...no hospital. I want t...to go h...home."
"Hospital first, Son," Sanchez said as he leaned in to help Vin with the injured man. They lifted him gently and placed him on the stretcher, moving out of the way as the two paramedics began to work.
"The hospital's ready for him," Jackson explained quickly as the two men began setting up for an IV. "Possible aneurysm and I'm afraid it may be leaking. He's complaining about pain in his back."
"Damn, Joe, take his BP while I get the IV's started," Cy reached for the flashlight but was stopped by a scream of terror from the shivering man.
"Don't take it from him," Jackson ordered as he looked at the trembling man. "There's no time to explain right now. Just let him have it."
"Alright, what's his name?" Joe asked as he took the reading from the left arm.
"Chris," Tanner answered.
"Alright, Chris, My name's Cy and this is Joe. We're gonna start a couple of IV's in you and get you to the hospital, alright?"
"H...home."
"Not yet, Pard," Wilmington couldn't help but smile at his stubborn friend.
Cy finished setting up the first IV and then switched places with Joe. He started on the second one as Joe took a blood pressure reading from the second arm.
"Any allergies?" Cy asked.
"No," Jackson answered.
"We gotta move, Cy," Joe warned as he folded the BP cuff and started wrapping the blanket around Larabee's form.
"What was the BP?" Cy asked.
"Left arm one hundred over fifty, right arm eighty five over forty," Joe snapped as he placed the Velcro straps over the injured man.
"Damn," Cy hissed as he snapped the lids closed on his kit. "Let's go," he ordered as the two men rushed the stretcher into the ambulance.
"V...Vin, y...you co...coming," the blond stammered as they secured the stretcher in the ambulance.
"Go with him, Vin, we'll be right behind you!" Jackson ordered as they hurried back to the van.
Tanner climbed into the ambulance and watched as the paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Larabee's face. All the while the blond clung to the flashlight his eyes never wavering from the bright light. Vin felt the ambulance pull out into the road and held his breath as they sped towards Billings.
They pulled into the emergency doors of Saint Vincents twenty minutes later. Larabee still clung to the flashlight even as the stretcher was rushed inside.
"We've got a possible leaking aneurysm," Cy called out as two doctors and a nurse ran towards them.
"We've got him," Midland snapped as she took one side of the stretcher and the other doctor grabbed the opposite end. "Vin, we're taking him straight to the OR," she shouted as they hurried to the waiting elevator.
Tanner leaned against the desk as he waited for the rest of the team to arrive. He rubbed his head in an effort to stop the growing headache, but knew it would stay with him until Chris Larabee was out of danger.
Vin paced the floor of the waiting room, glancing every couple of minutes at the clock on the wall. His face showed the strain of the long wait as he struggled with his own conscience. The argument he'd had with Chris the night before his second disappearance continued to harp on him. He couldn't help feeling responsible for what the blond was about to go through. He looked at the other faces in the room and knew they were thinking about Chris as well. The waiting game had begun for the friends of Chris Larabee, a wait that would seem to take forever as they waited for word from the OR.
Vin's eyes stopped on the pale face of Buck Wilmington, he knew of all the others this was the one man who felt the same way he did. He finally sank into a chair and closed his eyes.
Silverman watched as the anesthetist intubated Chris Larabee and he smiled in spite of the critical situation. This was a team who knew what was at stake and he wouldn't have to tell them what they needed to do.
He moved to the operating table as a double lumen ETT tube was inserted and the anesthetist checked to see if the patient could breath on only one lung. A central line had already been inserted in the patient's jugular and at a nod from the anesthetist Silverman moved in to begin the surgery that could save Chris Larabee's life.
Vin opened his eyes as the door to the waiting room opened. He smiled at the pale faced woman and man who entered. "Mary, Orrin," he greeted as he stood up to give Mary Travis the chair.
"Any word?" Mary asked.
"Nothing yet," Wilmington informed her.
"Was it as bad as you thought, Nathan?" Orrin Travis asked.
"Worse," Standish answered.
"What do you mean?" the newspaper woman asked.
"They buried him, Mary," Sanchez explained.
"Oh, God," Mary gasped.
"What do you mean they buried him?" Orrin spat.
"They stuck him in this box not much bigger than a coffin. Gave him some water and crackers and buried him in the ground," Dunne spat.
"What about oxygen? Lights?" Orrin asked.
"Not sure how he was getting the oxygen, but from Chris's reaction the lights were seldom on, Orrin. He panicked when we cut the electricity feeding into the coffin," Jackson explained.
"Once we got him out he wouldn't let go of the flashlight. Kept begging us not to turn it out," Tanner explained as he watched the blond woman's eyes fill with unshed tears. "That son of a bitch is gonna pay," he promised as he stood up to leave the room.
Wilmington got up to follow, but a hand on his arm stopped him. "He just needs a little time to compose himself, Brother," Sanchez said and received a small nod in return.
Silverman finished clamping the aorta above and below the aneurysm. He worked quickly in order to repair the damage in the shortest possible time, yet making sure he did it properly. They'd already collapsed Larabee's lung so they could get at the aneurysm, and he knew one of the nurses was already replacing the bag of blood overhead. A well oiled machine, he thought as he felt rather than saw his team work around him.
"How much longer, Nathan?" Tanner asked. He'd returned soon after the hasty retreat and resumed his pacing of the small room.
"Hopefully not much longer," Jackson said as he watched the clock.
"I hate this waiting," Wilmington hissed as he joined the younger man pacing the floor.
"We all do," Sanchez muttered.
Silverman removed the clamps from the repaired Aorta and listened as the anesthetist announced the time as thirty seven minutes, twenty four seconds. A smile came over the surgeons face as he realized he'd repaired the damage within the safety parameters. "How're his vitals?" he asked.
"BP is 109 over 50, heart rate 72, temperature 95."
"Alright, I'm going to close him up," Silverman said as the adrenalin rush began to leave him.
"Buck, Vin, sit down for a while. You're wearing a groove in the floor," Orrin Travis chastised gently.
"Ah hell, Orrin, I can't sit. How long more is this gonna take, Nate?"
"There's no way of knowing for sure, Buck. It depends on whether there are complications or not. This is a dangerous operation and there are so many things involved," Jackson explained as the door opened and Brandon Silverman stepped inside.
"Gentleman, Ma'am," he said, nodding his thanks as Ezra Standish stood up to give him a place to sit. "Thank you."
"Doc, how is he?" Wilmington asked worriedly.
Silverman looked at the worried faces in the room before coming to rest on Vin Tanner, the man he knew to be Larabee's best friend. "Chris made it through surgery and will be moved to ICU shortly. Now before you ask, no one can see him for at least a couple of hours. The staff needs time to get him settled."
"Doc, what was the cross clamp time?" Jackson asked.
"What's cross clamp time?" Dunne asked.
"I'll explain later, JD," Jackson answered.
"It was thirty seven minutes, twenty four seconds. Well within safety parameters," Silverman answered Jackson's question.
"Thank God," Jackson said.
"Chris will be in ICU for at least a couple of days. We had to collapse his lung to get at the aneurysm. The lung should be re-inflated in about four days but he'll have a chest tube in until then. He's on a ventilator and I've ordered Propofol IV infusion to keep him asleep."
"For how long?" Tanner asked.
"We'll probably keep him out until tomorrow morning. We're going to have to keep a close watch on his blood pressure. We've also started him on Esmolol IV infusion as well. That's the drug we'll use to keep his blood pressure within certain norms."
"How's his temperature?" Jackson asked, remembering the cold feel of his friend's skin.
"It was ninety five during surgery. They'll put a warming blanket on him in ICU to bring it up. Now I know there's no point in telling you all to go home and get some sleep, but please don't descend on the ICU all at once. They'll allow two at a time but that's it," Silverman told them. "You all know what to expect when you go up there so please don't interfere with the nursing staff. Someone will let you know when he's ready for visitors."
"Thanks, Doc," Jackson said as the man left them to their thoughts.
"Nathan, you're the expert here. What are Chris's chances?"
"Buck, I'm not an expert, but from what little I do know he's got a long road ahead of him. JD, I asked about the cross clamp time because it has to be done quickly or there'll be complications. As the doc said he was within range."
"Nathan, why'd they have to collapse Chris's lung?"
"To get at the aneurysm, JD," Jackson explained as he sank back in the chair. He felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he thought about the pain and recovery that was still ahead for Chris Larabee.
Vin and Buck stood outside the door to Larabee's ICU room. Both men were grateful that the others realized their need to see the man both of them considered his best friend. They watched as the nurse pulled the warming blanket up over the still form. They both gasped at the extent of the bandages covering Larabee's upper chest and the tubes running into his body. Nathan had told them there'd probably be a NG tube and foley as usual.
Vin winced as the nurse checked the central line IV, touching his fingers to his own neck in sympathy. "Damn, Buck, I should never have left him alone."
"Vin, it wasn't your fault. None of us could've known Williams would come after Chris like that."
"The son of a bitch'll pay, Buck. So help me if there's one thing I get ta do it's ta see him suffer as he's made Chris suffer."
"You'll have to get in line behind me, Vin," Wilmington swore as he saw the nurse indicating they could come in.
They walked into the all too familiar room and stepped up to the bed. A small pad of gauze covered a wound on Larabee's head. Vin grimaced as he remembered the terrible headache Chris was suffering from the night he'd visited him in the hospital.
"It's okay, Pard, he's gonna be fine," Wilmington muttered as he reached out to touch his friend. The skin was still a little cool to him and he asked. "How come he still feels cold?"
"His temperature is still a little low, but it should improve rapidly now that we've added the special blanket. It'll warm his body up pretty fast."
"Is he in any pain?" Tanner asked, his eyes never leaving the man on the bed.
"No. He's on a morphine infusion pump and is receiving four mg's per hour. I assure you he feels nothing right now," the nurse explained as she busied herself with IV's and tubes.
"Thank God for that," Wilmington hissed as he struggled to control his emotions. Damn, Chris, all because you went off on your own to take down that asshole. How many times have I heard you lecture someone on the stupidity of going off on their own? You should've taken your own advice, he thought.
"Chris, I know ya can't hear me right now, but I wanted ya ta know I'm here for ya," Tanner said, his voice cracking as he stared down at the too still form. We're all gonna be here, Chris, and when all is said and done you and I are gonna have one of them long talks. You know the type where I get to talk and you get to listen for a change. I'm gonna give you a lecture to end all lectures, he thought as he slumped in the chair by the bed.
"You alright, Pard?" Wilmington asked.
"Just a little tired, Buck," Tanner told him as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
"Yeah, I think we all are," Wilmington agreed as he watched the nurse.
The others had come and gone, but Vin Tanner remained at his friend's side, leaving only to grab a coffee or stretch the kinks from his body. The night nurse was a pretty red head who seemed to care about her patient. She talked to him as she continued to check his vitals, change IV's and monitor his urine output.
Vin walked back towards the room just as the nurse was hanging something new over Larabee's bed. "Cathy, what's that?" he asked worriedly.
"It's Hespan."
"What's it for?"
"Vin, his urine output dropped down to twenty five cc's over the last two hours. I put in a call to Dr. Silverman and he ordered a Hespan, five hundred cc bolus. It'll run into him pretty quickly and should improve his output," Cathy explained as she finished connecting the Hespan.
"What happens if it doesn't?"
"Now, Vin, didn't I tell you we must keep positive thoughts?" she asked.
"Yeah, ya did," Tanner sat back in the chair, fighting to keep his eyes from closing.
"Why don't you go lie down in the waiting room across the hall, Vin."
"I'm okay," the tracker assured her even as he tried to stifle a yawn.
"He's not going to wake up for at least another six hours. I promise to come get you if anything happens. You're just across the hall, not across town."
"I...I..."
"Vin, he'll need you when he's awake a lot more than he needs you right now. Get some rest so you can be here for him in the morning."
"Guess yer right," he said through another yawn. "Am kinda tired."
"Here," she said as she handed him an extra blanket off the cart outside the door.
"Thanks," he muttered as he looked down at his friend. "I'll be back in the mornin', Cowboy." With that simple assurance he headed for the door on wobbly legs. He turned back one last time as the nurse's hand touched the light switch.
"No!" the sharpshooter snapped. "Don't turn out the lights."
"Pardon?" Cathy jumped at the tone of his voice.
"I'm sorry, Cathy. Look just leave the lights on at all times, okay?"
"He won't even know," she told him.
"He won't, but I will. You know he was buried for over two days and kept pretty much in the dark. We don't know the whole story but he had a bad reaction when we accidentally detached the power from the box he was in. Just keep the lights on for him, alright?"
"I will, Vin," she promised as she looked towards the bed. "I don't think I could've survived being buried alive."
"Me either, Cathy, but he did it. Now we just have ta make sure he survives the aftermath."
"I'll leave the light on, Vin. Get some rest," she ordered as she went back to her patient.
"I will and thanks for understandin'," Tanner smiled as he walked across the hall and into the waiting room. He let the door slide shut behind him and savored the darkness that enfolded him. Will you ever be able to do this again, Cowboy? he thought as he sank into the soft sofa and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
Cathy looked up as Vin Tanner stepped back into the room. She glanced at the wall clock and saw it was only five fifty am. The young man looked as if he still hadn't slept much, but there was a little more color in his face.
"Good morning, Vin," she smiled as he walked up to the bed.
"Mornin'," Tanner said, hiding a yawn behind his hands. "Sorry."
"That's alright. Did you get any sleep?"
"A little. How is he?"
"He had a good night."
"What about the problem with his ah..."
Cathy smiled at the embarrassed young man. "The Hespan worked and his output has increased."
"Thank God," Tanner looked down at his friend. Keep fighting, Cowboy, I need you.
"Vin, you'll have to move back for a few minutes. Dr. Silverman and Dr. Midland are just coming in."
Tanner turned to see the two doctors enter the room. He nodded to both and moved away from the bed.
Midland picked up the chart and read the nurses notes. "The Hespan worked," she told Silverman.
"Good. Cathy, any other problems?"
"He's running a slight temperature," she answered.
"Keep an eye on that and let me know if it gets any higher."
"Yes, Doctor," she said and watched as the surgeon began his own examination of the injured man.
Vin looked on while Midland and Silverman checked the surgical incision and the chest tube. They ran through Larabee's vitals and then turned to the nurse.
"Cathy, I want the Propofol stopped as of now. Let's try him on CPAP and see how he does. If he tolerates it for an hour you can go ahead and extubate him."
"Yes, Dr. Silverman," Cathy said as the surgeon left the room.
"Doc, what's he mean CPAP?" Tanner asked.
Midland turned to the pale young man who stepped up beside her. "It means we're going to let Chris breath on his own with minimal help from the ventilator. It's done to make sure he can breath on his own."
"What happens if he can't?"
"Then we'll have to keep him on the ventilator. Look, Vin, you know Chris as well if not better than anyone. How bad was he when you got him out of that damned hellhole they stuck him in?" Midland asked angrily.
"He was scared, Doc, real scared. I don't remember ever seein' him so terrified of anythin'. H...he just wanted some light. Didn't matter where it came from just as long as he could see it," Tanner hissed.
"Animals!" Midland spat as she watched the nurse replace a bag of IV fluid.
"How long before he wakes up?" Tanner asked.
"He should start waking up in an hour."
"How long before you take him off the ventilator?"
"We'll take him off as soon as we know he's able to breath on his own, Vin. Probably within the next couple of hours," she explained as the young man looked down at the bed. "He's going to be fine, Vin."
Tanner nodded his head slightly, but his eyes never left the slowly rising chest. "Thanks, Doc, I know he will be, but it's hard ta see him like this."
"I know. I'll be back in an hour or so, Cathy. Page me if there are any problems."
"I will, Doctor Midland," Cathy said as she adjusted the IV flow. "Vin, I'm going off shift shortly, but I've made a note in Chris' chart about the lights. They'll be left on at all times for now."
"Thanks, Cathy, I appreciate that," he said as he sank his weary body into the chair by the bed. Hear that, Cowboy, they're gonna let you wake up soon.
He was being drawn away from the darkness that engulfed him in mind numbing fear. Somehow he knew he had to get to the light. His hands reached out to grab at the beacon of hope only to fall short and he gasped as he felt something in his throat. Raw panic made its appearance as he realized there was no oxygen left in his private prison. He was trapped in the box, in total darkness, and death would soon take him.
Vin watched the pale face and saw a tear slip from the right eye. He turned to the nurse who'd taken Cathy's place. She was an older woman with grey hair and her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue grey. "Tracey, I think he's coming round," Tanner said as he stood over the bed.
"Chris, can you hear me? You've had surgery and you're on a ventilator," Tracy explained as she leaned closer to her patient.
Oh, God, no! he thought as the new voice invaded his hell. Why can't you just let me die in peace? He fought the obstruction down his throat and terror seized him as he realized they were choking him. Both arms became tools as he tried to fight against the building panic.
"Chris, listen ta me. It's Vin. Can ya hear me? It's gonna be okay. Yer gonna be fine. Yer in the hospital and everythin's gonna be okay," the sharpshooter assured his friend.
Vin, Jesus, they put you in here too. I'm sorry. So sorry, he thought struggling to open his eyes to the darkness he knew would be there to greet him.
"Come on, Cowboy, let's see the color of yer eyes. Yer really okay, Chris. We got ya out and yer in Saint Vincents."
Chris forced his eyes open and was shocked to see the bright light above him.
"That's it, Chris, yer safe now, and they're gonna be taking that tube out of yer throat pretty soon," Tanner explained.
Chris's green eyes remained fixed on the light even after he recognized Vin Tanner's voice. He felt so alone and the light above him seemed full of the warmth he craved. He wanted to believe the voice of his friend. He wanted nothing more than to feel safe again, but the terror of being buried with only a few minutes of precious light had taken away more than his freedom. It had darkened his soul and filled him with a feeling so foreign to him that he cried in utter defeat. He knew in his heart he'd never be able to face the darkness without feeling the cloying atmosphere of the coffin.
"Chris, Pard, look at me," Tanner kept talking softly, trying to get through to his friend as the tears slowly fell from his eyes. "Come on just turn yer head a little and look at me. No one's gonna turn out the light, Cowboy. They'll leave it on as long as ya want them ta. Okay?"
Leave it on, Larabee thought. Oh, God, please, leave it on.
Stacey Midland appeared in the doorway and quickly moved towards the bed when she heard Vin talking. She looked at the form lying on the white sheets and noticed the dull, moisture filled green eyes. "Chris, you're in Saint Vincents. You've had surgery but you're going to be alright. If you can just relax for a minute we'll take this tube out. Okay?" she asked as his eyes turned at the sound of her voice.
Ventilator? Hospital? Vin! he thought eyeing the long haired man standing beside the bed. Damn, Vin's angry with me. My fault. Shouldn't have went off on my own.
"Are you ready to get rid of this tube, Chris?" Midland asked and watched as the blond head nodded slightly. "Are you in any pain?" She smiled again at the slight shake of the head. "Okay, then let's do it," she said as she bent over the bed.
Vin watched his friend and knew something had panicked the blond as the doctor bent over him. "Doc, yer blocking out the light," he said as the terror shone in his friend's eyes.
Stacey moved back as soon as Tanner's words were out of his mouth. She watched the reaction from the man on the bed and knew he'd have an aversion to darkness for some time to come. "Sorry, Chris," she apologized as she moved slightly down the bed and began removing the tape holding the tube in place, making sure he had a full view of the light above him. She finished removing the tape and locked her eyes to the green orbs set in the pale face. "Chris, now comes the uncomfortable part. I want you to breath out and I'll get this out of your throat, alright?" another slight nod. "Okay, breath out," she ordered and as he did as she told him, she pulled the tube from his throat.
Larabee felt the tube being pulled from his throat and the gagging sensation made his stomach churn. He felt the bile rise into his mouth and retched.
Tracy and Midland turned him on his side as he gagged, holding him as his body trembled on the bed. Finally the gagging noises stopped and he was gently placed back on the bed.
"Take it easy, Chris," Midland ordered. "You're going to be fine."
Larabee looked from her to Vin and in a voice hoarse and filled with pain asked, "W...what h...happened...chest?"
Midland smiled reassuringly at the blond haired man. "Do you remember the car accident?"
Larabee's eyes narrowed as he looked towards the other man in the room. "Remember f...fighting w...with, Vin," he muttered. "Sorry m...my f...fault."
"Ah hell, Chris, wasn't yer fault. We'll talk about that when yer out of here," Tanner said, stepping up to the bed and watching as the nurse wiped Larabee's lips with a pink sponge.
"T...thanks. C...chest?" he asked again.
"In the car accident you hit your chest on the steering wheel. The x-rays we took were checked by the radiologist the next morning. I won't go into details with you right now," Midland told him as she noticed his eyes growing heavy.
"N...need to k...know."
"You will, Chris, but right now I want you to get some sleep. You've had major surgery and your body needs a chance to rest and heal."
Larabee's eyes drooped closed only to snap open again. "D...dark, God it w...was so d...dark. D...don't turn o...out the l...light, okay?"
"We're not going to, Chris," Midland assured him.
"W...was c...cold d...down there. S...smelled dead. T...thought I w...was d...dead,"
His friend's raspy, sorrowful voice tore at Vin Tanner's heart. He knew what fear was and what it would take to make this man fear anything. "Yer not dead, Chris," he told his friend.
"V...Vin, s...stay. R...really s...sorry....hurt you."
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Cowboy. Go ta sleep. I'll watch yer back."
"T...thanks, Vin, a...always c...count on y...you," Larabee's eyes closed and Tanner knew he was sleeping.
"Yes ya can, Chris," the tracker vowed.
"You're a good friend, Vin."
"No, Doc, I'm not. If I was a good friend I would've been with Chris that mornin' and they never would've got their hands on him. How did he survive over forty eight hours buried in a tiny box and not knowin' whether the lights would come back on. Oh, and from what the police say he was down ta the last of his water. They left him some of those snack'n'crackers, but he didn't eat many of them. Jesus Christ they buried him in the fuckin' ground!" Tanner snapped.
Midland noticed the man on the bed tremble with the rising voice of Vin Tanner. "Vin, you have to calm down. Chris is going to need you level headed to help him get through this."
Tanner looked around the room, his eyes finally coming to rest on his friend's sleeping face. "Jesus, Doc, I'm sorry. It's just..."
"It's just that you hate small, dark places and can't understand how Chris made it through." Tanner nodded. "He's strong, Vin," she said. "I hope you never have to find out whether or not you have that same strength."
"I don't think I have that strength, Doc," Tanner told her and settled back into the chair as the nurse placed an oxygen mask over his friend's mouth and nose.