Vin pushed open the door to Larabee’s ranch, not surprised to find the door unlocked. He walked through the foyer and into the living room, smiling at the soft snores coming from the couch. He walked towards the slumbering man and shook his head at the awkward way Larabee slept. The blond head was tilted at an angle, leaning slightly to the left. The slack mouth hung partially open, and the look on Larabee’s face was one of sheer rapture.
‘What are you dreaming about, Pard?’ he thought.
‘Hell, Cowboy, you’re gonna be stiff when you wake up,’ the tracker thought as he moved around the couch. He knew the blond still tired easily and needed his rest, but it would be cruel to leave him sleeping like this. He bent to lift the long legs onto the couch. He knew the best way to handle the injured hip because he’d been to the physio session with Chris two days before. His own arm was healing fine as long as he remembered to take it easy with it. He moved back quickly as Larabee’s left arm came up to slap at his arms.
“Hey, Cowboy, what the hell are ya doin’?”
“D...dreamin’...lemme fuckin’ be...” the blond mumbled through a dry throat and quickly sank back into his dream.
“That’s gratitude for ya. Man tries to make his friend comfortable and gets hit and cursed on.” He grumbled as he took the black and white afghan and threw it over the once more sleeping man. He smiled as Larabee pulled the homemade gift from Nettie Wells up over his shoulder and continued to sleep.
Vin moved away from the couch and into the kitchen. It was closing in on five o’clock and he wanted to have dinner ready for Larabee when he finally woke up. He opened the fridge, knowing Josiah and Nathan had stocked up on everything they’d need. He smiled as he remembered telling Larabee about the bluish mound of mold that dared invade his refrigerator while he was away. They all shared a great laugh as the blond tried to look stern.
Vin pulled out the chicken breasts, he’d placed in there before leaving for the office, and opened the package. He quickly grabbed spices, mixed them with Italian breadcrumbs and flattened the chicken breasts. He grabbed two eggs and broke them into a small bowl, beating them with a fork until they were fluffy. He placed a slice of smoked ham and Suisse cheese on top of each of the breasts and gently rolled them up before dipping them into the egg mixture and finally the Italian breadcrumbs. He placed them on a non-stick baking sheet and plopped it into the oven. With the main course baking, he turned his attention to the rest of the dinner he had planned.
A hour and a half later Chris moved on the couch and slowly opened his eyes. He heard movement in the kitchen and knew the sharpshooter was back. He teased Vin about his culinary attributes, but the truth was the tracker was an excellent cook. He seemed to have a natural ability to make a meal out of anything that was available. Whatever masterpiece he was working on teased Larabee’s sense and he shifted slightly, enjoying the sweet aromas coming form the open kitchen. He pushed up on his elbows and eased his legs over the side of the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his hip and upper body.
“Damn!” he hissed as he held his head in his hands.
“Ya finally awake, Larabee?” Tanner asked, coming back into the living room.
“Yeah,” the blond said and rubbed at his healing hip.
“Want a hand up, ol’ timer?”
Larabee looked up from his seated position on the couch and scowled at his best friend.
“Want to be shot?”
“Hey, was just offerin’. I mean you’re lookin kind’ve...Hell-ish.”
“Hell-ish...is that a new word Tanner?”
“Nope it’s a new Larabee look!” The Texan grinned as he offered his left hand to the blond.
Chris smiled and reached for the extended arm and clenched his teeth as the smaller man pulled him from the couch. He was grateful for Tanner’s steadying hand as he reached for the crutches.
“Jesus, guess I should’ve gone to bed,” Larabee hissed as he walked towards the kitchen and the comfortable breakfast nook. He sank into a chair and looked gratefully at the cup of strong coffee before him.
“Thought you could use a cup,” the tracker said simply.
“Thanks, Vin,” the blond lifted the cup and sipped at the black liquid, enjoying the flavor and the warmth it generated.
“Got somethin’ else for ya too,” the tracker held out his hand with two Tylenol number threes in it. He stood waiting for the stubborn man to give into the need for them.
Larabee looked at his friend questioningly, ready to refuse the medication, yet this man knew him and could see through his tough exterior. The determination in the blue eyes made him smile as he reached for the pills and the glass of water. He took the pills and watched as the sharpshooter hurried back to the kitchen counter.
“Eat up, Cowboy,” Tanner said as he placed the plate in front of the blond.
Chris looked at the plate, his mouth watering as he looked at the food that could rival any of the fancy restaurants he’d ever eaten in. Laying in the center of a bed of Rice Pilaf was a perfectly golden brown breast of chicken, on one side were snow peas and yellow beans in a buttery sauce. Chris lifted his knife and fork and cut into the breast, smiling as the delicious sauce ran into the rice.
Vin smiled as he watched Chris eat the meal he placed before him. The look of satisfaction on the blond’s face made him smile as he ate his own dinner. Cooking was something he enjoyed doing and he made many meals for his friends in spite of the razzing he usually received about how it turned out. The only thing he’d never been able to handle was cooking on the BBQ and he was only too pleased when Sanchez took over that area. He remembered the steaks he and Buck burnt at the last get together at his own ranch. The char broiled offering was unfit to eat and they ended up throwing on hot dogs to eat with the delicacies supplied by Ezra Standish. The conman groaned at how they were all savages eating sautéed mushrooms, peppers, and onions with hotdogs.
“Penny for your thoughts, Cowboy,” Larabee said softly.
“Huh?”
“You were a mile away. I figure you were thinking pretty hard and I’d better stop you before you fried the circuits for good.”
“Funny,” Tanner smiled as he returned his attention back to the meal.
“Well, what were you thinking so hard about?”
“Just thinking of the day Buck and me decided to BBQ...”
“Don’t call that fiasco a BBQ, Tanner. That was more like burnt offerings...”
“Well, hell, Pard, that’s a good way to get me to stop...”
“Barbecuing? That’s a good thing, but, Vin,” Larabee grew serious as the younger man looked towards him.
“What?” Tanner asked, trying to look insulted.
“Don’t ever give up cooking this kind of meal. Hell, Tanner, I swear you’d put those chefs in the restaurants Maude takes Ezra to to shame. This is one of your best.” He smiled as a hint of red came to the shy Texan’s face.
“Thanks, Chris, with those kind of compliments you might even get dessert...”
“Oh, what are we having?”
“Just chocolate pudding and fresh cream,” Tanner explained.
“As long as it’s not...
“Shimmering Shit!” Tanner finished and the two men laughed. The remainder of the meal was silent as the two men thought about how close they’d come to losing the friendship they harbored. At the end of the meal, Chris stood up to help load the dishwasher, handing Tanner the dirty dishes so he could pack them in properly. Once the kitchen was cleaned to their satisfaction they went into the living room and settled in to watch the baseball game.
Chris felt his eyelids growing heavy and let them slide closed. He listened to the game, content in the knowledge that they were all home now. His eyes snapped open as a hand touched his shoulder.
“Wh...what?” he asked tiredly.
“Sorry, Pard, didn’t mean to startled you. Come on and I’ll help you to your room.”
“What about the game?” Larabee asked through a yawn.
“Game’s over, Mets won.”
“Damn, must be getting...”
“Old!”
“Shut up, Tanner,” the blond hissed, but smiled in spite of the tone of his voice. He reached for the crutches and made his way to his bedroom. He walked through the door and over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and leaning the crutches on the nightstand.
“Need any help?”
“You really are looking to get shot, aren’t you?”
“Can’t, your gun is locked in the case. Goodnight, Cowboy.”
“Goodnight, Vin, and thanks...for everything.”
“Anytime, Chris,” the sharpshooter vowed as he eased the door closed and left the blond alone. He looked in half an hour later and shook his head.
The lamp was still on, but turned down low. Chris was lying on his left side on the bed, a pillow between his legs, his hands under his head, not a stitch of clothes on his body. The blankets were kicked down around his knees, and tangled in his feet.
Tanner moved forward, not embarrassed at seeing his friend’s nudeness. He lifted the blankets up over him and turned out the lamp, smiling as Larabee snuggled into the depths of the warmth the coverings provided. He walked out the door and into his own room, again feeling a sense that they were destined to meet, all seven of them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chris had been back at work for two weeks and things were going well for him. Physio continued to aggravate the hip, but the crutches were gone and in their place was a cane. He sat in his office, reading the updated files from his men. It was late in the evening and most of the other offices were closed, but they were trying to get everything cleared up for a trip the seven of them would take the following week. One that would put the final closure on the past two months or so. He smiled as he heard the others laughing in the outer office and felt at ease, knowing he was well and truly back where he belonged.
“Hey, Chris, we’re going on a coffee run. You want to come?”
“Not right now, Vin, but you could bring me back one.”
“What size?”
Chris looked at the pile of files on the desk and smiled as he looked back at his friend.
“Extra large!”
“Hmm, from the looks of those files, maybe a jumbo would be better!”
Larabee returned the smile. “Yeah, you might be right.”
“Back in a few, Cowboy,” the tracker said.
“Yeah...bring me a blueberry muffin while you’re at it!”
“Butter?”
“Yeah, and have them warm it up for me.”
“You got it.”
“Hey, Vin you coming?” Dunne called from the outer office.
“Hell, yeah!” the tracker said, and hurried to join the others.
Chris had no idea how much time passed, but a sudden movement in the far corner of his office caught his attention. ‘What the hell?’ he thought and stood up from his chair. Nausea instantly caught hold of his stomach as a wave of sickening dread threatened to floor him.
Chris knew what was going on and tried to fight it. Flashback after flashback struck him and he placed his hands on the desktop, sucking in air faster than he thought possible. He tried to concentrate, but the room began to spin and he needed air.
“God! NO!” he screamed as the movement in the corner caught his attention once more. His body shook as he lunged towards the door, his eyes glued to the undulating mass. He moved out the door and heard the quivering gelatinous blob moving with him. He looked from desk to desk, his body trembling as he searched for someone to help him. The chairs were empty and his tenuous hold on reality was quickly slipping from his grasp.
More of the spider like creatures were in the room with him and he raced past one of the desks, grabbing pens, papers, anything he could throw at whatever was following him. Out into the hallway he turned glazed green eyes towards the elevators, only to find the creatures were there as well. He looked for another avenue of escape and spotted the stairs.
“Gotta get away...gotta get away!” he repeated as he raced for the door and shoved it open. His eyes widened in shock as he spotted a man standing a few steps below the landing he was on.
“Hello, Chris, you can save them by jumping!”
“NO! Jesus, you’re dead!” he screamed as he raced up the stairs, away from the man he’d known as Marcus Whelan. He reached the door leading onto the roof as everything around him disappeared. Reality and fantasy mixed in a jumble of unrelenting motion as he moved out into the cool air. He walked to the edge, the breeze cooling the hot sweat beading on his forehead. Terror shone in the glassy green eyes as he teetered on the edge of the roof.
The wind seemed to pick up momentum as Chris Larabee began the slow circuit around the edge of the rooftop. There was no fear in him now, just a soft white melancholy mood and the need to feel the wind in his face. He mumbled unintelligible words as he stretched his arms out to the side for balance. The lights from the other buildings shone in his eyes and he squinted as the structures seemed to shift with the breeze. He closed his eyes as a heady, carefree sense of calm washed over him, and he sucked deeply at the clean air.
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