Standard
disclaimer: the characters actually belong to a large organisation. The AU
universe of the Magnificent Seven team in the 21st century, was I
believe, created by Mog, and the Little Britches ATF
by Barbretta H..
Rating: P-
oh darn… we’re not supposed to use these now are we… Okay, I’ll tell you that there’s a little bit
of nastiness, angst. The main protagonists are Vin,
Chris and Buck.
Acknowledgments:
Marnie was kind enough to beta the fic. Her advice and
edits were invaluable, and in light of Marnie’s
comments I have made some changes. Any errors belong solely to me, they’re
mine, all mine.
The Gun
By Sealie
Vin looked at the gun. He knew
that he shouldn’t but it was just sitting there, lying on Uncle Josiah’s
kitchen table. He folded his arms and rested them on the table top. He propped
his chin on his arms and contemplated the gun lying a mere inch from his nose.
Then, cautiously, he extended a finger and touched the barrel, it was cold and
smooth.
“Whatcha
doin’, Vin?”
Vin spun around. “Stay back,
JD,” he snapped.
“Why?”
“‘Cos.”
“Why?”
“‘Cos.”
“What ya
hiding, Vin?” JD rocked from foot to foot, trying to
see around him.
“Nuthin’. You wanna
do me a favour, JD?”
“Why?”
“Please, JD. Please,” Vin entreated.
Wide eyed, reading the
seriousness of his protector, JD nodded furiously, black hair bobbing.
“Will you ask Unc’ Josiah to come here?”
JD stuffed his hands deep
in his shorts pockets and toddled off as requested. The sounds of the football
party in the front room increased as JD pushed open the door. Vin breathed a sigh
of relief, before turning back to the shiny gun. The handle was black with a
ridged surface. Vin laid his hand over the grip, his
hand was too small to span the breadth, he couldn’t get a grip.
“Hey, Junior?”
Vin spun back around, standing
ramrod straight between Buck and the gun.
“Where’s Unc’ Josiah?”
“He’s watching the game.
It’s his team playing.”
“Can you ask Unc’ Josiah to come here?”
“Why?” Buck jerked his
thumb over his shoulder. “He’s just through there.”
“It’s important!”
“Vin--” Buck dropped down
to one knee, “--what’s the matter?”
“Nuthin’.”
“Nuthin’? Really, come on, Scrappy,
tell Buck.”
“I really, really, really
got to talk to Unc’ Josiah.”
“Okay. Okay. One Uncle Josiah coming up. ” Buck ruffled his hair as he
stood up. The big man froze. “Josiah, get your Freakin’
Ass in here, now!”
Buck picked up the gun,
ejected the clip, checked the chamber, and in one smooth movement clicked a
link of his handcuffs through the magnum’s firing mechanism.
“Josiah!” Buck bellowed,
louder than Vin had ever heard him.
Vin dropped and rolled under
the table. He remained curled up in a tight ball as three pairs of large feet
tromped into view.
“Buck? What’s the matter?”
Chris asked.
“This.”
“Jesus!” Josiah blasphemed.
“What were you thinking of?
There’s two little kids in here.” There was a loud
smack and Uncle Josiah crashed down like a felled tree trunk.
Sitting on the floor,
Josiah rubbed his chin. “I deserved that.”
Another set of feet entered
the room. “What’s happening?” Nathan demanded.
JD cocked his head around
Ezra’s legs, spotted Vin and arrowed under the table
as if fired from a cannon. Vin caught him.
“That—”
Vin curled over JD as the
battle raged overhead. JD gripped his arm until Vin
was sure it bruised. Chris yelled something as Buck roared.
“Will everyone calm down?”
Ezra’s voice joined in.
JD whimpered.
“Shut up!” Something
slammed heavily down on the kitchen table. The yelling stopped dead and then
Ezra continued smoothly, “Where are the boys?”
Still on the floor, Josiah
smiled sadly at them. Blood ran down his broad chin. “They’re under the table.”
He spat out a broken tooth.
Chris knelt. “Hey, guys,
what’re you doing down there?”
JD lifted his head, but
stayed within the circle of Vin’s arms. “Buck’s mad.”
Vin shivered from head to
tail.
Chris slowly opened his
arms. “You guys want to come out from under there?”
Vin shook his head. He knew
that he was in trouble and he didn’t want to get hit. JD stayed tight.
Buck ducked down. “Come on,
guys. Come on, Little Bit.”
Vin glanced left right, there
wasn’t anywhere better to hide. Choosing the table had been a mistake, he
should have run for the door. The chairs tucked around the table effectively
prevented them crawling for the door.
“Come on,” Chris cajoled,
“nothing’s going to happen.”
Vin locked eyes with his
protector.
“Trust me,” Chris said
simply.
Vin slowly relaxed his grip on
JD.
“Chris?”
“Come on, Cowboy,” Chris
whispered.
Still holding JD, Vin shuffled towards Chris. As he moved, Chris reached out
and gathered them both up. Vin kept a tight hold on JD
and Chris held them both against his chest. Balancing their weight, Chris
easily stood.
“You guys clear up in
here,” Chris ordered gravely. “I’ll be in the front room with JD and Vin.”
Vin peered over Chris’ black
clad shoulder, Josiah sat on the floor with head in his hands, Buck stood over
him shoulders heaving. Uncle Nathan was trying futilely to get a look at
Josiah’s face and Ezra was watching.
~*~
Vin perched on Chris’ knee,
his thoughts a swirl. Buck had been very annoyed. He had touched the gun when
he knew that he wasn’t supposed to. When he and JD had come to live with Chris
and Buck they had had a sit down discussion where Chris had ‘laid down the
law’: guns were dangerous and were not to be touched under any circumstances.
Now Buck had hit Josiah because of the gun. Buck had promised never to hit. Vin gnawed on his thumb, pulling at the skin at the side of
his nail. What if Buck lost his temper again? What about JD?
~*~
The television blared in
the background. It was a distraction that Chris didn’t need, but to get up and
find the remote would disturb Vin and JD. Chris
regarded his foster son trying to read the small boy’s mind. JD sat as quiet as
mouse on Vin’s lap, clutching Vin’s thin arm around
his tummy, waiting for Vin to tell him what to do.
“Boys? Vin?”
Chris began.
JD sucked his thumb.
“Do you want to talk about
it?” The man winced at the triteness of the question. “I know that it was
scary. Uncle Josiah shouldn’t have left his gun out. That was very… careless of
him.”
“Ith
Buc’ gonna hit ‘Thiah
again,” JD lisped around thumb.
Vin shivered.
“No, that was because he
was angry, but most importantly, scared.” Chris had managed to keep his own
anger from erupting. When he had realised what had almost happened, Buck had
literally beaten him to the punch. To see his even-tempered, happy friend so
angry had been sobering. Buck didn’t react that way, the man was cheerfulness
personified. Even during the worst of
cases he maintained a positive outlook.
Chris knew that Buck would
have scared himself today.
~*~
Ezra put the kettle on. He
knew that he was acting completely out of character, but somehow, making a cup
of coffee for everyone seemed like a really good idea. He cracked the seal on
an obviously ancient jar of instant coffee and ladled out liberal spoonfuls of
coffee into ceramic mugs. Sugar, he remembered, was good for shock -- Nathan’s
lectures had been absorbed. The kettle popped off, startling him. Slowly, he poured
out the water.
When there was nothing else
he could do, the mugs’ contents had been stirred and stirred, he finally turned to the silent tableau. Josiah was sitting
at the table, eyes fixed on the gun on the table. Nathan was rooting in the
fridge for ice. Buck simply stood in the centre of the room, present but really
miles away.
Ezra set two mugs before
Josiah. “Drink that. Nathan, here’s yours.”
Mentally girding himself, Ezra slid up next to Buck, he considered several
approaches and finally went with, “Buck, drink this – it will help.”
Buck swallowed hard and
continued staring at the wall. Delicately, Ezra proffered the mug but it was
ignored, or its presence not even registered. Ezra silently began counting,
wondering on the various actions that he could take if he reached three hundred
seconds without movement. By a count of sixty he grew bored and decided on, and
ordered firmly, “Buck, sit, drink.”
As an automaton Buck sat at
the kitchen table and drank. Josiah sat opposite holding a bag of frozen peas
against his jaw.
“Buck,” Josiah finally
spoke. “I… was irresponsible. I’ll understand if you never let me near the kids
ever again.”
“What were you thinking, ‘Siah?” Buck hissed his name. “Vin was guarding the damn
thing. What if he had picked it up? What if he had hurt himself or JD?”
“I’m sorry.” Josiah dropped
his head to the table.
Ezra coughed loudly. “Might
I point out that if Vin was guarding the weapon he has
in fact absorbed your careful instructions on the subject of weapons safety and
conducted himself in an adult fashion. And he was in no, actual, danger.”
“It doesn’t excuse leaving
it lying around. JD might not have been so ‘adult’.”
“I think that Josiah has
learned a valuable lesson.” Ezra took a gulp of his own coffee and gagged.
Abruptly, Buck pushed back
from the table. “’Siah, I…” he struggled to speak.
“Buck, it’s okay,” Josiah
said softly, “I won’t --.”
“No, don’t say anything.
I…” Buck threw his head back as he fought for words. “You…” He shook his head,
and with a dark glare, Buck stormed out.
“Phew, well, I see the old
adage about those that normally don’t lose their tempers blowing up most
spectacularly is correct.”
“Ezra,” Nathan chastised.
Ezra ignored his bête
noire. “So, Josiah, how are you feeling?”
Josiah glared balefully.
“Hmmm, that bad I see,”
Ezra said lightly. “I would say that: you need to buy a safe, you need to
apologise to Chris, Vin and JD and Buck and then move
on.”
“I can’t.”
“Then alternative is,” Ezra
said simply, as he set the foul coffee aside, “that you have nothing to do with
the children again, which, quite frankly is foolish. And would be a great loss
for yourself and for Vin and JD. If you’ll excuse me,
I will ascertain whether Buck took the car or not and depending on that, I will
either track Buck down or offer a lift home to Messrs. Larabee,
Vin and JD.”
~*~
Chris dabbed antiseptic on Vin’s thumb; he had bitten it down to the quick until it had
bled. Chris hadn’t realised until they had returned home and he had been
helping Vin out of the back of his SUV. JD sat on the
bathroom vanity unit next to Vin as close as skin
could be, watching the ministrations, eyes wide. Gently, Chris wrapped a
band-aid around Vin’s thumb.
Chris wiped Vin’s bottom lip. “Why did you do that?”
Vin didn’t or couldn’t say a
word.
“What happened, Vin? You
were calling for Uncle Josiah, was it to tell him about the gun?”
Vin nodded.
“You didn’t want him to get
in trouble.”
Vin nodded again.
“You were very good.”
Explicably, tears welled in
his eyes.
“Shush, why don’t you tell
me what’s wrong?”
Vin shook his head.
~*~
Ezra pulled up outside
Chris’ ranch. The deck lights were on, illuminating the wooden balcony and the
pebbled drive against the jet black night. Larabee
sat on the porch, supping on a whisky, watching their approach. Ezra slid a
glance at the silent, normally gregarious, ladies’ man in the passenger seat.
Buck had been at Inez’s bar, soaking up cigarette smoke, beer, Irish whiskey
and remorse.
“We’re here,” Ezra said
unnecessarily.
“Thanks, Ez,” Buck said sadly. He popped open the door and slowly
dragged his body out.
“Buck,” Ezra began. The man
froze, he didn’t turn, but his posture was one of listening. “Your anger was
deserved, and Josiah is truly repentant, but speak to
him sooner rather than later otherwise Josiah will do something rash.”
Buck craned his head round
and regarded him levelly. Many thought that Buck was an uncomplicated soul,
Ezra knew otherwise.
Ezra smiled, flashing his
gold tooth. “Just a thought. You know we’re all
allowed to make mistakes.”
“Thanks for the lift, Ez.”
Ezra saluted his friend and
colleague noting the deliberate omission, advice rarely was digestible. He
winced as Buck slammed the door of his beloved car. Always knowing when he wasn’t wanted, Ezra
put the car in reverse and peeled away.
~*~
“Buck,” Chris acknowledged.
He proffered the bottle of Ledaig whisky.
“I’ve probably had too
much,” Buck said, but he took it. He flopped down on the chair beside Chris.
Light flared as Chris lit a
match and puffed on his cheroot.
“Kids in bed?” Buck asked.
“Yup.”
“They all right?”
“Nope.”
“They scared?”
“Yup.”
“Damn.” Buck took a slug
straight from the bottle.
“What happened, Buck?”
“You know.”
“Humour me.”
Buck took another drink. “I
saw the gun and I lost it. Vin was terrified. I
shouldn’t have hit Josiah.”
“Nope.”
“Hitting Josiah wasn’t
really necessary. The man’s gonna rip himself three ways to Tuesday with guilt.
Hitting’s never the answer.” Buck heaved a sigh and
slumped.
“So what’s next?”
“Speak to Josiah before he
loses himself in a bottle. That man’s got a painful way of turning to drink
when he’s upset. Then I’ll talk to JD and Vin.”
“You
going to do it now?”
“I’ll phone Josiah now.”
Buck took a mouthful of Dutch courage. “Speak to JD and Vin tomorrow, no sense
in waking them.”
Chris nodded, reached over
and took the bottle back. He poured the fine whisky into his glass and drank.
Buck stood girding himself and then stalked into the house. Holding the whisky
in the well of his tongue, Chris inhaled a lungful of aromatic smoke, held and
then exhaled. He kept trying to give up the nicotine weed, but after a day like
today there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell of it happening.
~*~
A creature of habit, Chris
always showered before bed, something about washing all the detritus of the day
away. Clean and somewhat relaxed, he padded into the boys’ room to check on his
charges. Vin and JD were a covered lump on the top
bunk. They were wrapped in both Vin’s ‘Nemo’ quilt and JD’s ‘Chris Colorado’
quilt in a rainbow of colours. Only a shock of JD’s
black hair was visible and Vin’s little hand.
Eschewing the pillow, they were huddled up against the foot board. It didn’t
look very comfortable, but -- Chris leaned closely -- they were both breathing
deeply and regularly, truly asleep.
Unable to bestow a good
night peck on smooth foreheads, he crept back to his room. Buck’s bedroom door
was closed. Sighing, he climbed into bed and pulled the quilt tight around his
shoulders.
Sleep was a long time in
coming.
~*~
The weight of a watcher
woke him. Chris knew without opening his eyes that Vin
stood at his side. Sleepily, Chris lifted his quilt, expecting a small visitor
to creep in to bed. Cold air wafted along the length of his body. Curious, Chris cracked open one eye.
Vin stood balanced mainly on
one foot as he tugged on the hem of his pyjama top. He was picture of
indecision and worry.
How long had he been
standing there? Chris wondered. “Hey, Cowboy.” He
patted the mattress coaxingly.
“I touched the gun,” Vin whispered.
“What?” Chris opened both
eyes.
“I touched the gun,” he
repeated. “I know it was bad, but I just wanted to. I didn’t pick it up or
anything. I just touched it.”
“Ah,” Chris sighed,
profoundly disappointed.
Vin waited eyes wide,
shivering in the chilly air. Chris realised that he was disappointed but in
some way pleased that Vin had had the faith in him to
come, finally, to his side. Things had progressed in the Larabee-Tanner
household. He mentally reviewed his response to the quiet confession. If he had
seen Vin with his hand on the gun, he knew that he
would have instantly spanked him. And that would have been a mistake of
monumental proportions.
In the cold, dark of night
the only thing that he could think of was to hug a frightened child. Chris
patted the mattress again. Slowly, Vin crept onto the
bed.
“Is Buck gonna hit me now?”
Vin asked sadly.
“What?” Chris was sitting
up before he realised he moved.
At the movement, Vin tipped over half falling off the bed, Chris grabbed him
before he could tumble off. Long fingers curled completely around Vin’s skinny bicep with finger tips to spare.
Vin flinched, violently.
Dispirited, Chris pulled
him close, holding him. “Sssssh, nothing’s going to
happen. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Vin was a fairy stock in his
arms, for all he knew he held a piece of wood, rather than a living, breathing
boy.
“Buck was scared for you, Vin. And he was scared so bad he hit.”
“And Buck’s sorry,” Buck
said from the doorway.
Vin squeaked, wrenched out of
Chris’ grip and flew to the corner of room. Spinning around he realised that he
was backed into a corner. Back against the wall, he hunted for a way out of the
room. Chris switched on his bed side light.
“Vin,” he said softly, then
more loudly. “Vin, look at me.”
Eyes seemingly impossibly
big in the pale face, Vin focussed on him.
“Nothings going to happen, Vin. You’re safe.” He slowly slipped off his bed and slid so
he sat on the floor opposite the terrified child. The wooden floor was freezing
cold against his butt. Reaching behind him, Chris pulled his quilt off the bed.
“Oh, God,” Buck breathed
and hung his head.
“Vin, look at me.”
Vin blinked.
“Come on, Cowboy,” he said
brusquely, “you’re freezing.”
Chris held the quilt out,
for a moment he thought that Vin was a bit to canny to
allow himself to be wrapped, but the siren call of warmth and comfort lured him
in. One eye clearly on Buck, he crept forwards to his protector and burrowed
into the down quilt.
Chris enveloped him, and
couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of him tucked in the folds of the
quilt. Vin
lifted the edge of the quilt up and regarded him through a veil of sandy hair.
“Buck isn’t going to hit
you, Vin, not today, not tomorrow or ever,” Chris said
levelly.
Vin canted his head to the
side and regarded him, eyes clear and preternaturally wise. In that instant,
Chris realised that Vin trusted him, that he had come
to him, he had ran when danger threatened, but when sanctuary was offered Vin
came forwards with hands and heart open.
“Vin.” Buck walked slowly around
the bed and crouched.
Vin poked his head over the
curve of Chris’ chest.
“Vin, I ain’t
ever going to hit you. I’d cut off my own hand first.”
“And if’n
you lose your temper?”
“Nothin’
would make me hit you.”
“I touthhed
it,” Vin lisped and dropped his head on Chris’
shoulder and bit his lip.
“Ah.” Buck rocked back on
his heels. “Oh, Junior, even that
wouldn’t make me hit you, or JD. Are you ever going to
touch a gun again?”
Vin wriggled violently. “Never. Never!”
“I figure you learnt your
lesson, Vin.” Slowly, Buck rested his hand on Vin’s quilt covered shoulder. “In a bad way, though.”
“Vin,” Chris spoke softly.
The words were hard. “I understand, guns are exciting and shiny and you see
them on television. But they’re tools, dangerous tools. You’ve got to be responsible, you got to have training before you can touch
one. They’re not toys. They’re not for kids, and even some adults shouldn’t be
allowed to touch them.”
“Are you going to take
Uncle Josiah’s gun away from him?”
“Uncle Josiah will be going
to some seminars – classes on appropriate gun uses and a training course on gun
safety. He volunteered to go himself.” Buck smiled toothily.
“What’s that?”
“You remember when you and
JD came to live here?” Chris explained. “We told you about the guns that we
used at work. The workmen came and put a safe in Buck’s bedroom like the safe
in the back of my wardrobe. As soon as we come home the guns go in the safes?”
Vin nodded.
“That’s basic gun safety
when you’re in a house with kids. Josiah never should have left the gun out so
he’s going to have some refresher lessons. But we’re going to have our own
little class here at the ranch.”
Vin squinted at him.
“You touched the gun, Vin, and that, you know, is naughty. What would have JD done
it he’d seen the gun?”
Vin pursed his lips in a
blatant, although unconscious, imitation of Chris. “He wouldna
thought that it was real ‘cos guns live in safes.”
“And that’s why you sent
him after Josiah. But you did touch the gun; we’re going to sit down and you’re
going to learn all over again about guns. JD’s going
to be included.”
Vin flopped over his lap
sighing deeply. “Am I gonna be grounded?”
“Yep.” Chris stroked along the
length of Vin’s narrow back. “No riding or Play
Station for two weeks. I reckon a couple of hours lecturing from Buck tomorrow
evening and then again next weekend, is punishment
enough.”
“I guess,” Vin said into the quilt. Chris continued his soothing
stroking, feeling tense muscles relaxing. He jerked his chin towards the door,
sending Buck back to bed.
Buck paused, his posture
screaming indecision.
“Go,” Chris mouthed.
He waited until his friend
had crept out of the room, before getting his legs free of the all-encompassing
folds of his king sized quilt, which probably weighed double the amount of Vin, so he could haul boy and quilt back on to the bed.
“Whatcha
doing?” Vin asked as Chris untucked
the quilt and pulled it over both of them. Vin lay
flat on Chris’ chest his knobbly shoulder blades feeling like razors. Chris
shifted and the chilled form slid down to be cradled at his side.
“Getting comfortable.”
“K” Vin was half way to sleep.
“Buck will never hurt you,”
Chris whispered.
Vin rested a heavy head on
Chris’ shoulder. “I know.”
“Tell him that.”
finis