Vin loved Christmas, and as he puttered around the office in his Santa hat, humming Christmas tunes, and spreading the Christmas spirit in any way possible, the others couldn't help but become swept up in his enthusiasm. Even Chris.
They would be wrapping up the case that they were working right before Christmas. They'd decided that all of them would go up to Chris's ranch for Christmas dinner. Vin was excited, he hadn't had a real Christmas dinner in a long time, but this year he was going to be celebrating with his family.
Chris watched his best friend move around the office, a lightness to his step, head bobbing slightly to the music in his head. In the confines of his office, where he could watch unobserved, he smiled. The beauty and purity of the sharpshooter's spirit had restored Chris's faith in the season. He hadn't celebrated Christmas, or even acknowledged the holiday since Sarah and Adam had died, but this year was different. This year a blue eyed Texan elf had caught him up in the whirlwind of his enthusiasm, completely unintentionally, and wouldn't let him go.
"It's pretty amazing, ain't it?" a voice asked. Chris turned from the window to find Buck leaning against the doorjamb. "How much that boy is getting into this. Prob'ly hasn't had too many memorable Christmases in his life, but he still loved the holiday. He's gonna give all he's got, and not expect anything in return." Buck was watching the sharpshooter now too.
"He knows the real meaning of Christmas," Chris said quietly.
"That he does," Buck agreed wholeheartedly, "better'n any of us, most likely."
An incessant pounding on the door woke Chris. What the hell — ? It was still dark out, why the hell was anyone knocking on his door at this hour? He struggled out of bed and shuffled down the stairs towards the front door. Whoever was pounding on his door had better have a good reason for being there. He had a good idea of who it was, and if Buck didn't have a damned good reason why whatever it was couldn't wait, Chris swore he was going to shoot him.
When Chris swung the door, he looked like he could happily eviscerate someone, to borrow one of Ezra's favorite threats. Vin however, chose to ignore it. "You ready ta go?" he asked brightly.
"Do you know what time it is?" Larabee growled.
Vin frowned. "It's five thirty. You gonna hurry up, we're losin' daylight."
"Daylight!! The sun hasn't risen yet, Tanner."
"An stallin' now'll hold us up so's when we get there, we'll have less daylight," Vin said as if it made perfect sense to him. It probably did, Chris grumbled internally.
"Where're we going?" He really ought to invite the Texan in and close the door, but Chris was deriving, albeit a small amount of, perverse pleasure from making the Texan who had so rudely awakened him stand out in the frigid December morning air. Not that the stubborn jackass had the decency to acknowledge it.
"Gonna go get a tree, Chris, remember?"
"And you don't think that it could have waited until the sun was in the sky?" he asked incredulously, only Tanner. Chris was beginning to regret asking him if he wanted to go with him to get a tree for the ranch. He should have gone with first instinct and not even had a tree, but the sharpshooter's enthusiasm had gotten the better of him, and now he was paying for it.
Vin cocked his head and appeared to be pondering the question. "Why?" he asked innocently.
Chris had to work very hard to resist the urge to strangle his best friend.
"You okay Chris?" Vin asked, sounding genuinely concerned, as if he wasn't the cause of Chris's problems.
"'m fine," he growled. "Get in here before you freeze. Have you eaten yet?" At Vin's negative response as he walked through the door, Chris continued. "Good, we'll eat before we go."
"But Chris," Vin objected, sounding very much like a belligerent young child, "all the good trees will be gone."
Chris nearly choked at that. He had to remind himself that Vin hadn't had much occasion to go tree hunting. "Vin," he told him calmly, "I promise you that not all of the good trees will be gone if we eat breakfast before we go. As it is, we'll probably get there before the sun rises."
"You promise?"
Chris looked at the sharpshooter. God, he was serious. It made Chris wonder what his best friend had gone through to make him ask something like that. "Yes Vin, I promise," Chris assured his best friend, no longer as annoyed about being woken as early as he had been.
"Okay..." Vin was still a little doubtful, but he trusted Chris.
Chris sighed. "Why don't you start breakfast while I get dressed," he suggested.
Vin looked at Chris and noticed for the first time that he was dressed for bed. "Geez Chris, did I wake you?" It was a wonder he hadn't gotten himself shot.
Chris stared incredulously at Vin. Vin was one of the most observant men he knew, had he really not noticed? He must have been really excited.
"I'm really sorry Chris, I guess I just got excited." He sounded so dejected.
"That's all right," Chris told the Texan. "Give me a minute to get changed, then we can go."
"Really?" Vin seemed to perk right up, he was practically bouncing.
"Yeah," Chris said with a smile, "wouldn't want all the good trees to be gone by the time we get there."
They could eat when they got back, Chris was going to make sure that Vin had the perfect Christmas that had apparently been denied him growing up.
"I'm telling you Vin, this is never going to fit in the door."
Vin grinned at his friend over the large, bushy tree they were carrying towards the house. "Oh ye of little faith."
Chris shook his head and smiled at his friend's antics. He was just like a little kid. Maybe even worse.
It took some maneuvering, but they did manage to get the tree into the house without too much trouble.
Vin grinned at him when they had gotten the tree up. 'See,' he seemed to say.
"Alright, genius, now you can decorate it, I'm going to take a nap."
"You're no fun," Vin pouted playfully.
"That's what comes from getting up at such an ungodly hour," Chris told him.
Vin rolled his eyes. "Go on, old man, don't need your help anyway," Vin laughed.
"Who you calling old?" Chris growled.
"You," Vin taunted.
"Not so old that I couldn't take you."
Vin laughed. "I'd like to see you try, Cowboy," he challenged.
"Don't tempt me pup," Chris threatened.
"Oh yeah, what're you going to do about it?"
"Watch it Tanner."
"Okay Chris, wouldn't want to get an infirmed old man like you to riled, might not be too good for your health."
Chris growled at his friend. "Where do you want to start?"
Chris looked around his house and shook his head in amazement. They had decorated everything. Vin didn't seem to know when to stop, and Chris didn't have the heart to stop him. His Christmas spirit was irrepressible, and to be honest, Chris wouldn't have it any other way.
Vin watched as Chris looked around his house, marveling at the job they'd done. He'd hit a stumbling block when he'd dug out Sarah's Christmas ornaments, and Vin had been close to putting a halt to the whole thing, but Chris had rallied and gone on with the decorating, making his old family part of the celebration with his new family.
Chris turned to look at the sharpshooter. "What now?" he asked.
"Outside," Vin responded with a grin.
"You're crazy Tanner," Chris told him frankly, "you know that, right?"
Vin's grin only widened.
Chris sighed. "We're going to need more lights." Vin opened his mouth to say something, but Chris cut him off. "I'm driving."
"Ain't got a problem with that, Cowboy," Vin stated with a grin.
Chris looked at the darkening sky and sighed. They were either going to have to be decorating trees in the dark, not to mention cold, or wait until tomorrow. Knowing Vin, they'd be decorating in the dark. Chris silently wished that the Texan had said that he wanted to do outdoors before so that they could have done it in the daytime. Of course, he'd probably planned it so that they'd be doing this after sunset, that was just the Tanner way. Vin had the most skewed sense of daytime of anyone he knew, with the possible exception of Ezra.
The ride was a quiet one, Chris paid attention to driving, wary of ice on the road, and Vin staring out the window. They were about half way to the small store when Chris glanced over at his best friend deciding that he needed to draw Vin out of his reverie.
"Mind if I turn on some music?" he asked.
Vin shook his head, but made no verbal response.
Chris switched on the radio, easily finding a station that played all Christmas music, all the time. Most stations did this time of year. His choice of music garnered no response from the passenger, in fact, Chris wondered if Vin even realized that the music was on.
He shot a concerned glance at his friend just as the truck hit a patch of black ice.
Chris fought hard, but he couldn't control the vehicle as it spun off the road to land on its side in the ditch.
Chris didn't think that he lost consciousness in the crash, but it took a minute to orient himself and to realize why he wanted to slide towards the passenger side of the truck. The truck was tilted, a tree propping it up.
Chris shook his head dazedly as he recalled the events that had gotten him in the situation. He and Vin had been going to get lights — Vin. A shiver of fear ran down Chris's spine when he realized that he had not been alone in the truck and he hadn't heard anything from Vin. He looked over at the passenger side to check on his best friend. The sight that met his eyes froze him momentarily.
Vin was lying limply, half against the truck's interior and half against the tree that had kept the truck from landing on its side and probably rolling. The window had shattered on impact. There was what looked like blood on the tree trunk. Chris couldn't tell if Vin was even breathing.
He carefully unbuckled his seatbelt, bracing himself so that he wouldn't slide into Vin the second the securing belt was unlatched. Then he slid himself over to Vin, aided by gravity. Chris hesitated before laying his hand on Vin's neck in search of a pulse, afraid of what he might find.
Chris let out the breath that he didn't know he was holding when he found one, slow but steady.
"Vin," he called softly. "Vin, can you hear me?" The only response he received was a small moan.
He carefully unlatched the seat belt and drew the smaller man into his lap, settling against the driver's side door, wincing in shared pain at the abrasions marring the right side of the young man's face. A few were deep and still had glass and tree bark in them. Cell phone, Chris thought urgently, where the hell was his cell phone. He finally located it, nestled safely in the cup holder. Right where he left it, Chris noted absently. He had probably hit his head in the crash.
He flipped his phone open to dial, but a soft call distracted him. "Ch — Chris?" There was a pleading, desperate quality to Vin's voice.
"Right here, Cowboy," Chris assured him, gently brushing hair out of his best friend's face in a gesture of affection. "How you feeling?"
"H— head hurts. C— can't breath real good." That worried Chris. "What happened? Why's there music? 'm I goin' crazy?"
Chris laughed, he'd forgotten that the radio was on, completely tuning out the music. "We had an accident, and the radio's on, Pard, but I won't speak to your sanity."
"You're just too funny, Cowboy," Vin said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Think people'll pay to see it?"
"I wouldn't count on it."
"How's your breathing?" Chris sobered.
"Hurts," Vin managed. His breathing was ragged and forced. Chris suspected that the seatbelt might have done some damage.
"And your head?"
"Got a nice drum solo goin'."
"Alright, I'm going to call 911, I need you to stay with me, okay?"
Vin nodded, squeezing his eyes closed as the pain assaulted him. He tried to relax, resting against Chris's strong chest. He tried to focus on something other than the pain, but he was having a hard time.
Chris stroked his friend's long locks before turning his attention to the phone. Nonononono. The light was supposed to be green, not red. Red meant no signal. No signal meant no 911, no ambulance. Vin needed help, soon.
Chris tilted his head back against the driver's side window, closed his eyes and groaned.
"Chris, you okay?" a soft voice asked.
Chris took a deep breath and straightened up. "I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about," Chris admitted.
Vin craned his neck to look at the blond, stifling a moan. He caught sight of the phone. "No signal?"
Chris shook his head.
Vin relaxed back against Chris. "We still near the road? Facing it?"
Chris looked through the windshield. Yes, they were vaguely oriented to face the road. "Yeah, why?"
"Turn the high beams on," Vin instructed painfully, "an' honk the horn so if someone's passin' they'll hear."
Chris studied Vin. There were lines of pain etched on his face, and his eyes were closed against the weak light of the door light. "That won't do your head any good," Chris stated with concern.
"Won't do either of us any good to stay here," Vin countered.
"You sure about this?"
"Yep, do it."
Chris depressed the horn, watching his friend carefully as the piercing wail filled the air. Vin's face contorted in pain; Chris quickly cut off the blaring noise.
Vin's world very quickly became filled with pain. He tried to concentrate on the music, but he lost it in the raging pain in his head. He noted distantly when the noise stopped, and he could hear Chris speaking again. "I'm sorry Cowboy," his best friend said quietly. Vin concentrated on the blond's voice and the soft touch on his face. "Come on, Cowboy, I need you to stay with me."
"Chris?"
"I'm right here, Pard."
"Why'd you stop?"
"It was hurting you."
"Need to get help." Vin must really be in pain for him to openly admit that he was hurting, several times over.
"When I see a car coming I'll honk."
Vin nodded weakly. Chris could feel him slipping into unconsciousness. "Vin, I need you to stay with me, okay?"
"Hurts."
"I know, Pard, I know, but I need you to stay conscious."
"Try."
"All I can ask." Chris knew that he had to think of something to keep Vin talking or else he would just slip back into the tempting oblivion. The silence was only broken by the soft sound of Christmas songs playing in the background. "Hey Vin, tell me about your favorite Christmas."
"Favorite Christmas?" He was quiet for a while. Chris was starting to worry by the time that Vin did continue. "This one, I think," he said quietly.
"Why?"
"Ain't had a lotta Christmases. Haven't celebrated since m' ma died, not really. First time — I had family since."
Chris's heart clenched at that simple admission. He gently stroked the sharpshooter's face, careful of the scrapes, all the time watching what he could see of the road for any sign of a car.
"That why you been getting so into it?"
"Jest like Christmas, I guess. 's one o' m' favorite holidays."
"Why? Doesn't seem like you had a lot of good experiences at Christmas time."
"Not really. Hated Christmas fer a while. Was fer other people, never me. Jest a reminder a what I lost."
"Your ma?"
"She died in the spring the year I was five. Christmas was the last memory I had a her before she got sick." Chris didn't know anything more than Vin's mother died when he was young, Vin never talked about his past.
"What happened?"
"Found m' ma's bible. Was stowed in m' runnin' bag. Fergot I had it."
"Running bag?"
"Got shuffled around a lot, 'tween foster homes 'n' such. If'n ya didn't want ta lose somethin' ya made sure it was in yore bag so's when ya left an' all ya had time ta grab was yore bag, ya didn't leave nothin' important."
Chris could understand that, and he hurt for the child his best friend never got to be.
"Started readin' it. Matthew. Remembered how m' ma used ta read it to me on Christmas Eve. We never had much, but we had enough; we had each other. Ma, she'd talk about the real meanin' of Christmas.
"'was twelve maybe, hadn't had a real Christmas since I was five. I started readin', rememberin', thinkin' some. Christmas hadn't been for me fer seven years. But I had an epiph'ny o' m' own."
"Yeah? What was it?"
"Christmas, it ain't about the presents and tinsel an' such. 's about how Jesus came ta earth fer us. God's gift ta the world an all. Christmas — sorta became a holiday fer the rich, but that ain't what Christmas is all about. When Jesus came, he came ta save ever'body, the great an' the small, important an' insignificant. But he came first ta the small an' insignificant.
"Kinda put things inta perspective fer me. Didn' matter that Christmas didn' happen ta me. It happened for me once an' that's what really matters."
Chris was stunned by the sentiment.
"'s why I love Christmas. It's about love, God's love fer everybody, m' ma's love fer me, m' love fer m' ma, fer m' family."
Chris promised himself that he'd make sure this was one of the best Christmas's ever for his friend. When they got out of here. If they got out of here, a morbid part of his mind added.
"That's beautiful, Vin. Inspired."
"Wha' was your fav'rite Chris'mas?" Vin asked. Chris could tell he was fading fast.
He thought on the question for a second. "This one. I've got you to show me the true meaning of Christmas. And you gave me some of the best gifts I ever received. You gave me back my family, restored my faith, showed me how to love again." Gave me back my soul.
"Y' mean that?"
"Course I mean that, I said it didn't I?"
"Guess so," Vin mumbled. "What about before? Chris — I need — Talk ta me please..." He needed something to focus on.
"Oh — kay. Don't know as there's just one..." Chris started telling Vin his Christmases with Sarah and Adam, and for the first time since they died, it didn't hurt to talk about them.
Chris kept talking when Vin once again lost conscious, internally debating as to whether or not he should wake Vin up again.
As he was thinking, he saw something that looked like lights coming down the road. He looked down at Vin. He looked so young and innocent lying there. Chris thought briefly of Adam, although he didn't know why. "I'm sorry Cowboy," he whispered before once again applying pressure on the steering wheel, producing a shrill shriek that caused Vin to cry out in pain. Chris prayed that this would be worth the pain that it caused.
Buck Wilmington decided that it might be a good idea to check up on Chris Larabee. He knew that Chris was a big boy and could take care if himself, but the holidays were a tough time for him.
He was about ten minutes away from Chris's ranch when he heard a horn blaring. He checked his mirrors and found that there were no other cars on the road. He slowed down and turned off his high beams, surveying the road side with interest. He had not been a cop for as long as he had without being able to make educated guesses based on limited evidence. That was definitely a car horn, and there were no cars on the road, there was a very good chance there was a car on the side of the road.
There seemed to be a faint glow coming from the side of the road that wasn't from his headlights. Buck turned off his lights and confirmed that the light was from another source. He drove the car a little farther before pulling it around and parking it on the side of the road as close to the light as he could. The horn was cut off just as Buck got out of his car and the silence was eerie.
Buck came around the car to see a truck propped up against a tree. It would have been almost comical if there hadn't been people inside and the truck didn't look hauntingly familiar.
Buck pulled his phone out of its holder on his belt. Damn, no signal. He took a step back towards the road and was relieved when the phone picked up a signal again. After reporting his location, the plight of the truck and that he didn't know how extensive the injuries were, he closed the phone and made his way carefully to the truck.
He moved around the front of the truck and cursed when he recognized the license number. Damned but he couldn't leave Larabee alone without incident.
Chris let out a heavy sigh and released the steering wheel, abruptly cutting off the painful sound. He'd thought sure... It seemed no one had stopped. Chris was glad that Vin had remained unconscious for the ordeal, but he felt that he'd somehow failed the younger man.
He cradled Vin against him as he too fought against unconsciousness.
"Buck ... " the sharpshooter mumbled quietly, the first sign that he was conscious.
"I don't understand," Chris told him.
"Bucklin," the sharpshooter explained, gesturing weakly toward the windshield.
Chris looked out the windshield to find, who else but Buck Wilmington illuminated in the headlights.
"Chris," he called, "you in there?"
"Buck?" Chris called, afraid to raise his voice to loud for fear of causing more pain to the sharpshooter.
"Chris? Turn of the head lights," Buck instructed.
Chris did as he was told. Buck shivered at the sight he was confronted with. In the pale glow of the interior light he could see a relatively whole and unharmed Chris Larabee cradling a bloody Vin Tanner against his chest. The desperation in his eyes galvanized him into action.
Buck moved to the shattered passenger side window so he could talk to Chris. "Chris, you okay?"
"Yeah, Vin — "
"How bad is he?"
"In and out of consciousness. Head wound, I think. Got scraped up when the window broke, I don't know if it did any damage to his eye. He was complaining about it being hard to breath before. Buck, you've got to get him some help."
"Already on it Pard."
"How?"
"It's called a cell phone."
"No signal," Chris said quietly.
"There is up by the road," Buck informed him.
Chris nodded. Buck could see the exhaustion on his old friend's face.
"You can let go a little now, Pard. I got your back."
Chris nodded again, gratefully, but Buck knew that he wouldn't let himself go completely until they'd made sure that Vin was going to be okay.
"I got your back," Buck repeated, "both of you." He settled down to keep watch until the ambulance got there.
Chris studied Vin as he slept peacefully on the couch at the ranch, bathed in the soft glow from the Christmas tree. They'd been lucky that Buck had come along when he did.
Once the rescue crew had come and gotten them out of the truck, they had been taken to the nearby twenty-four hour clinic, their injuries not having been deemed severe enough to warrant being taken to the hospital. Chris was glad about that.
He'd sustained minor cuts and bruises, nothing more serious than the lump on his head. Vin had escaped with a concussion, severely bruised torso, a few bruised ribs, and several abrasions on his face, only one of which required stitching. Overall, they'd been very lucky. They'd even been released the same night.
Buck walked into the room carrying two coffee cups. He'd taken responsibility for the two injured friends and told the doctors that he'd stay the night with them.
Although he had protested the need to be "babysat", Chris had enjoyed the stunned look on his oldest friend's face when he walked in to find the ranch more decorated than it had been when Sarah had been in charge of decorating.
Buck handed Chris one of the cups. "He responsible for all this?" he asked of Vin, gesturing around at the festive house.
Chris laughed. "Yeah. We were headed out to get more lights."
"More?! Where the hell would you have put them?"
"Outside."
"Now, maybe I didn't get the timetable straight here, but wouldn't it have been dark by the time you left?"
"Yep."
Buck opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find the necessary words. "Were you planning on stringing them tomorrow."
"Don't think so."
"Jeezus, you two were an accident waiting to happen. Did you not realize that you'd be putting lights up in the dark?"
"What you have to understand about Vin," Chris explained, "is that he has one of the most screwed up sense of time of anyone I've ever met. He showed up at my door at five thirty, telling me to hurry up and get dressed, we were losing daylight."
Buck looked at him incredulously.
"Swear to god." Chris avowed.
"Somebody ought to have a talk with that boy."
"It wouldn't work."
"I know."
They sat in silence for a while, studying the friend they'd been gifted with.
"You were right, you know," Chris finally broke the silence.
"'bout what?"
"Him knowing the meaning of Christmas. He does, might be the only one that knows, but he's had it figured out for a long time."
"Reckon so."
"Gonna be a good one this year."
"Already is, Pard. Already is."
End
Jesus came for all creatures great and small, important and insignificant, and he came first to the small and insignificant.
Feedback to Author