DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, more than likely, they're not even yours, you know it, I know it, we all have to learn to live with it. Life can be tough, but I'm not complaining, I still get to play with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: First and foremost, I would love you if you sent me feedback (no overly negative stuff, though, please). I was working on another story when this one popped into my head (Cindy Combs, who unknowingly introduced me to this fandom, calls them plot bunnies, so I guess in that case it hopped), consequently I virtually stopped work on the other piece I was working on. The other work was to be my first "real" fiction in the fandom, this will have to do instead (I will eventually get back to the other story, but it has been pointed out to me, vocally, many times, that I have other things that I need to be working on, sometimes real life sucks). This is loosely based on the song Harder Cards (hence the title) and the lyrics show up towards the end of the story. I believe that the version of the song quoted is by Kenny Rogers and that is what you would hear on the radio, although there is a version by Collin Raye. I know nothing about police procedure, football or cars (okay, so that plays such a minor roll that it's hardly worth mentioning, and even I couldn't have screwed it up, but it sounds better that way), and currently I am acting as my own beta, so bear with me. Obviously any mistakes made are mine. Thanks to those who introduced, inspired and made it possible for me to write in this universe.
Vin's jeep was in the shop and it had been raining when they left work, and it hadn't let up while Team Seven was in the Saloon, so Chris had offered to drive him home. Chris had even gone so far as to offer him a ride back to the federal building that housed the team's offices the next day. Vin had yet to accept, but it wasn't really a question of whether or not he wanted it, but if he needed it. Even if he did refuse, Chris would probably be there the next morning waiting.
There was a police car parked outside of Vin's building when they got there. Vin swore softly and jumped out of the truck before it had even stopped moving.
Chris's eyes followed his friend sadly as he parked the truck and followed at a more sedate pace. There would be little that he could do except help Vin through whatever was in the building. Probably another drug overdose, in this section of the city they were common enough, but they always hit the compassionate sharpshooter hard, every one a soul Vin couldn't save, and that tore at the man's own soul. It hurt Chris to watch his friend self-destruct like that every time, and it scared him that one day they might not be able to get Vin back.
Vin was out of the truck the second he saw the battered police cruiser sitting outside his building. Upon entering into the small lobby area, Vin followed his senses to the scene of the crime. He heard movement and voices that sounded like the cops and he moved toward it. The door to one of the first floor apartments was open and a woman holding a small girl of about six in her arms stood outside being kept company and silently watched by one half of a police team.
"Caroline, what happened?" he asked the battered woman quietly. She wasn't old, actually she was no more than a few years older than he, but life had not been kind to her and the years had worn on her faster than they should have, there were bruises, both old and fresh on her face, and more than likely the rest of her body as well. She nodded her silent permission to enter the apartment, careful not to disturb the child sleeping in her arms.
Vin nodded at her, eyes sweeping over both her and the girl to make sure they were all right, then he entered the domicile. The policeman let him pass, only one pair of men came to calls in this neighborhood usually, and both knew Vin well enough to know that he would not disturb a crime scene and that it was often better to let him by than try to restrict his access. They also knew his black shadow.
The first thing that struck him as he entered the small living area was the combined smells of blood and alcohol. Beer cans and bottles littered the table, the floor, any surface that an object could be flung on. There were drugs in evidence as well. On the floor was a body, Caroline's husband, Robert. A few feet away a gun lay discarded on the floor.
The other cop, Carlos, a youth that had grown up in Purgatorio, in an apartment a few buildings away was crouched by the body, studying it with dark eyes. He glanced up at Vin as he entered and then went back to studying the body.
Vin took it all in in a glance. The bullet in Robert's brain had probably killed him instantly. "His gun?" Carlos asked.
"Yeah," Vin grunted in reply.
"Thought so."
"Probably didn't feel safe with all the drug dealers and gangs running around."
Carlos cast a cynical glance at the drugs lying in plain sight. "No doubt." He moved to pick up the gun, being careful to use his gloved hand to smear any useable prints, before replacing it in Robert's hand.
"Suicide?"
"Suicide." Carlos confirmed.
"Should probably go see if the widow and her kid have a place to stay for the next few days."
"Yeah," Carlos agreed standing up. He met Vin's eyes and the two shared a silent understanding, they both knew what had and hadn't happened here and why things were being done the way they were.
"Tell them that if they need anything, they only have to ask."
"Sure thing Vin," Carlos nodded and walked out into the hall past the man swathed in black, hardly more than a shadow in a room that had seen more than its share of darkness.
Chris had entered the room in time to see Carlos kneel down and place the gun in Robert's hand and hear Vin's query. He surveyed the room and put together the clues, taking into consideration the fact that Carlos had probably moved the gun. Suicide? He didn't think suicide entered into the equation.
He watched as Vin and Carlos exchanged a few more words before Carlos left. Vin continued to study the room, lost in thought. All Chris could see of him was his back.
Finally Vin turned around and looked Chris straight in the eyes. "Come on, Cowboy, let's go up to my place, ain't nothin' we can do here," he sighed as he moved towards the door, "And I reckon we need to talk."
Cowboy, the word rolled effortlessly of his tongue. Always before it had been said and received with affection, in some ways representing their unique bond, but this time was different. There was no inflection to indicate that this time it was any different, but the word sent a shiver down Chris's spine.
This man that Chris called friend, that Chris had thought he knew inside and out, had thought was the most honest and upright man he had ever met, had just helped cover up a murder. Granted he hadn't actively done anything to help, but he had stood by and watched it happen, silently agreeing with Carlos' actions.
The thought disgusted Chris and he realized then that he knew almost nothing about this man that he called friend.
Chris followed Vin into his apartment. He was trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Neither of them had said a word on the way up the stairs, an uncomfortable, tense silence settling between them.
"You want a beer?" Vin offered, heading towards the kitchen and the desired beverage.
Chris shook his head no, but realized that Vin had his back to him, so he verbalized the refusal quietly.
Vin grabbed a bottle from the fridge, pausing before turning around and reentering the living room. He'd seen Chris' face before he left the apartment. He knew what had been done, and although he hadn't said anything, yet, he didn't condone the action that had been taken, and didn't understand how Vin could. It cast a rather large shadow on their relationship, and Vin wasn't looking forward to the confrontation that was waiting for him in the next room.
Vin entered the room, walked over to the couch and collapsed on it, eying Chris calmly, exhaustion evident in his clear blue eyes. Well, he seemed to say, almost challenging Chris to say something.
"You just aided and abetted in a murder cover-up." It was said quietly, a statement of fact, no emotion behind the words. Which, in itself, was more telling than if Chris had screamed.
"It was a suicide, Chris, I didn't aid or abet anything."
Chris exploded. "How can you sit there and say that?! You saw the same thing I did! You saw Carlos tamper with evidence, hell, you even saw the place before he did. You know it wasn't a suicide!"
Vin regarded him steadily before responding. "I saw the same thing you did, but you didn't see everything that I did," Vin said calmly. "It was a suicide Chris, he was just too stupid to pull the trigger himself. You can't stand there and judge when you know nothing about the situation. Things are different here, it's not clear cut black and white, but ya know what Cowboy, that's one of the palest shades of gray you're gonna see."
"Vin — "
"No, Chris, you're not listening," Vin said with the beginnings of heat, rising to his feet. "Did you see the drugs and the alcohol? That was all his, that's how he spends her hard earned money. Did you see the bruises and shadows on her face? That was his handiwork too, some of which she got trying to keep him from hurting her daughter. Did you see the teenaged boy there? No, you didn't, you also didn't see him bruised and beaten, running away from home because if he had stayed, he would have ended up dead. You didn't see any of that did you? All you saw was the body lying in the floor, the gun in Carlos' hand and you jumped to a conclusion."
Blue eyes burning with fury met green filled with hatred and disgust. "Even if that's all true, that doesn't excuse murder. There are other options." Chris heard what Vin said, but all that he got out of it was that Vin admitted that it was murder, even if he felt it was justified.
"Get of your high and mighty horse, Larabee!" Vin yelled. "What was she supposed to do? There was nowhere she could go on the little money that he left her that was far enough away that he wouldn't have found her. Maybe in your world there are options, but we live in the shadows here Chris, and there aren't any options in some situations, just shades of gray."
"Maybe that's true," Chris growled, "but you and Carlos covered up a murder!"
"It wasn't a murder, Chris, it was a suicide." The fire went out of his voice and his eyes as he collapsed back onto the couch, exhaustion evident in every line of his body.
Chris studied him hostilely. "I never thought that I'd see the day that Vin Tanner defended a murderer," he hissed.
Vin flicked a quick glance at Chris, and for the first time Chris found he couldn't read what was in those eyes, and moreover, didn't care. "I'll call Ezra tomorrow for a ride," he said, turning away in an obvious dismissal.
Chris glared at him, before turning and storming out of the small apartment.
As the door slammed behind the man that Vin had considered his best friend, he leaned his head back against the back of the couch and tried to fight back the pain Chris's words, said and unsaid, had caused.
The tension in the office the next day was so thick that it was almost tangible. Ezra claimed to be irritable because he had been forced to get up at "an ungodly hour" in order to give Vin a ride to work. The whole team realized very quickly that Chris and Vin were at odds for some reason, although no one knew why. They spoke to each other in harsh, clipped tones when communication couldn't be avoided. There was an air of something very akin to hatred between the two men, but their friends refused to believe that that was what it was.
The morning was mostly spent in uncomfortable silence as the men worked at their computers with whispered conversations in the break room in an effort to ease the tension and not bring down the wrath of their leader simultaneously. At lunch time five men went out to lunch, almost glad that the remaining two had declined the offer to join them. Chris had stayed ensconced in his office, while Vin went his own way, claiming that he had some stuff that he had to take care of.
"Is it just me," Ezra enquired once they settled at their booth at the Mexican restaurant they were dining at, "or are our esteemed leader and his somewhat scruffy sidekick at odds?"
Buck raised an amused eyebrow at the alliteration, but let it pass in favor of more important matters.
"There does seem to be some sort of conflict there," Josiah mused.
"Any idea what it is?" Nathan asked.
He was met with mostly perplexed shrugs. JD frowned. "You know," he said slowly, "there was something in the paper about a suicide last night, I think it might have been in Vin's building. I mean, I didn't read it too closely and it was really short, but if it was, that might be what's bothering Vin, although I don't know what that would be bothering Chris..." He trailed of a little embarrassed.
The others studied him thoughtfully, contemplating what he had said. "Well, maybe not, I mean, it was just a thought, I guess it doesn't make a whole lot of sense." JD defended, growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the other four.
"No, Son, you may be one to something there," Josiah assured him.
"The question is what that has to do with Chris," Nathan pointed out.
"Well," Buck drawled, "depending on the circumstances, Chris might have felt a connection to the victim or their family, and he did drive Vin home last night."
"Well, I suppose that we can't really do much more than let them work it out themselves," Nathan sighed.
"And hope that they don't self destruct," Ezra added. The others silently agreed. To all outward appearances, that was where the two men were heading. They would step in if needed, but they all hoped that wouldn't be necessary, for their own sakes as well as their two friends'.
The conversation turned to other things, but it was a subdued luncheon as the five men brooded over their two feuding friends.
"Hey, JD, can you give this to Chris for me?" Vin asked, placing a file on the younger man's desk. He'd spent his lunch hour amassing the contents of the file and had put the finishing touches on it after finishing up the reports due at the end of the day.
JD looked up to see Vin place the manila folder on his desk and begin to shrug into his jacket. "Sure," he said, frowning slightly, "where ya going?"
"Headed home," Vin said casually, "promised a friend I'd help 'em out with something this afternoon."
JD paled visibly, Vin was just gonna walk out without asking for permission to leave early or even telling Chris he was leaving. The Vin he knew very rarely broke the rules that Chris set without good reason, and he knew better than to piss Chris off any more when he was in a mood. Like he was today.
"Later kid," Vin called as he headed toward the elevator.
JD stood up and went around the desk to pick up the folder. He decided that he didn't want to know what was in it. He also didn't want to take it in to Chris.
Buck entered the office area frowning. He had just passed Vin in the hall and it looked for all the world like he was headed out. His frown deepened when he saw JD standing apprehensively by his desk, holding a file folder as if it was a herald of his own doom.
"Hey kid, what's up? Know where Vin's headed?" Buck didn't actually expect that he did, but asking never hurt anybody.
"He's going home," JD answered, looked up, a hangdog expression on his face.
Shit, Junior must really be pissed, Buck thought. Time to change the subject, this wasn't doing anything to improve JD's state of mind. Seeing as there was no one in the office, JD was probably the only one that knew, and was no doubt not looking forward to telling Chris that Vin had split. "What's that?" Buck asked nodding to the folder.
"Dunno," JD mumbled, "Vin asked me to give it to Chris."
"And you said yes?!" Buck exclaimed. Doing Vin a favor was one thing, but considering Chris's mood, this was no better than a suicide mission.
"Didn't know he was leaving," JD admitted.
"Give it here, kid, reckon it's time for me 'n Chris to have a talk anyway." Buck took the folder and headed toward the leader's office. "Hey, kid," he called back nervously, "if I don't come back, you'll comfort the ladies for me right?"
"Sure, Buck," JD affirmed with a small smile as Buck knocked on the door. "And thanks."
Buck nodded before entering. This was not going to be pleasant.
Chris sat behind his desk, working furiously, giving no indication that he had heard Buck's knock or entrance. "Chris?" Buck said softly. Chris indicated that he'd be with him in a second, Buck settled back to wait. As much as he wanted this over with, he wasn't particularly anxious to actually break his news.
"Yeah?" Chris asked, looking up from his paperwork.
"Vin wanted you to have this," he dropped the file on Chris' desk.
Chris glanced at it, but made no move to pick it up. "Couldn't bring it to me himself?" he said sarcastically.
Buck shifted nervously, Chris' gaze narrowed. "He left," Buck informed him.
"What do you mean, left?" Chris asked, voice soft and dangerously low.
"Went home."
"Damned, sorry assed, scruffy Texan bastard," Chris cursed. It was a familiar tirade, but where it was normally flavored with affection, the words took on an unfamiliar venom. Buck was shocked by the change in his friend.
Chris started to rise with the apparent intention of going after the sharpshooter. "Hold up Chris," Buck said, holding up his hands and moving in front of Chris as if to stop him. He gulped when Chris' icy glare was turned on him. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't go after him, but I think we need to talk first." Chris didn't say anything, didn't sit back down and didn't stop glaring, but he seemed prepared to listen.
Buck took a deep breath and plunged in. "First, I think it might not be a bad thing that he left early, it's Friday and all his reports are done and turned in, there's only a few more hours 'til quitting time, and honestly Pard, the rest of us could use some time without him sitting over in his corner brooding. I don't know what happened between you two last night, but something must have. The two of you have been glaring daggers and breathing fire all day and the rest of us need a break."
Buck paused to breath, noticing that Chris didn't look quite so angry anymore. He knew he was on dangerous ground here, but couldn't help wanting to know what had caused the two friends to become so hostile. "What did happen?" he asked tentatively.
Chris hesitated, for all that he thought what Vin had done was wrong and wouldn't defend him, he still had a strong urge to protect him, even from Buck. He ran a hand through his short hair and dropped into his chair, the anger inexplicably draining away. "I... I guess I found something about Vin that I didn't expect, and I'm not sure that I can accept it."
"Chris, he's still the same person he always was, and anything that he did he probably had a damn good reason for it. You should know that better than anyone else." Chris looked into Buck's eyes and knew that the man completely believed what he was saying, but he hadn't been there, hadn't seen what Vin had done, or the unrepentant look in his eyes.
Buck could see that Chris wasn't convinced, and that surprised him, but it didn't deter him. "Did you even let him explain?" Buck asked, knowing that Chris wasn't going to tell him what had happened, and not caring. "Or did you just start yelling at him without trying to see whatever this was from his perspective?" Buck knew that Chris was good at that, but he kept that observation to himself. He saw the guilty flush as Chris realized the truth of Buck's last statement.
"Talk to him Chris. I'm not saying that you have to accept what he did, but listen to his reasons, okay?" He saw the acknowledgement in Chris' eyes, and knew that he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do. He turned to go before half turning back to give Chris the chance he needed to approach Vin, the one that he wouldn't make for himself. "Oh yeah, we all decided to do beer and football out at the ranch Sunday, thought you should know. We didn't get a chance to tell Vin before he took off though, thought you could handle that, since you were all fired up ta go see him."
"Yeah, I'll take care of it." Buck was almost out the door when he heard a quiet "Thanks Buck."
"Anytime, Pard," he smiled.
It was nearing six when Chris pulled into Vin's neighborhood. He had decided to put in the full day, instead of charging off after Vin, he wasn't putting off the confrontation. They both needed time to cool off, distance themselves from the situation.
Unfortunately, he realized as he entered Vin's building, that Vin was doing exactly the opposite.
There was noise coming from the apartment that he had seen last night and realized that he could hear Vin's voice coming from there. He watched from the doorway as Vin, the widow, and several youths from Vin's "gang" worked on cleaning up the apartment. There was already a large pile of garbage bags and it looked like they would be pretty close to done soon.
Vin was the first to notice that Chris was standing there, meeting his eyes defiantly. He excused himself from the work crew telling them he'd be right back.
"We need to talk," Chris said quietly.
"Outside," Vin set his terms. Chris understood, Vin didn't want the wife hearing them. He led the way outside.
"I want to know why, Vin," Chris said softly, he was prepared to listen this time as he hadn't been last night. "I've been doing some thinking — "
"Bucklin's been talkin' to ya," Vin interrupted.
Chris nodded. "I — I can't condone what you did, but I can't understand it either, and maybe if I did I could at least try to accept it."
"Why do you need to know?" Vin asked, his eyes neutral. "Can't you just accept that I had my reasons?"
"It should be enough, I know, you are one of the best people I know, but right now that's not enough, I don't know why, or maybe I do, I'm not sure, but I just need to know."
Vin nodded, interpreting what was said and what was felt. Chris would usually accept what he said or did for the simple reason that it was Vin and he trusted him to know what he was doing, but he couldn't accept this, even though it was Vin. And because Chris was questioning his judgment on this, he was also questioning all the other times he had accepted something Vin had done without question. That lack of trust hurt, but Vin had known that he risked this when he didn't challenge Carlos tampering with evidence, but accepted it as given.
"You can't know what it's like unless you've lived here, Chris, it was the right thing to do and both Carlos and I knew that. Caroline wouldn't have challenged us if we had arrested her. He pushed her too far, hurt Carli one too many times. It's not always black and white, Cowboy, you look at their scars, physical and emotional, you'll see so many shades of gray. Caroline will carry the guilt of this the rest of her life, but she'll see her children grow up safe, and that was more important to her."
Chris was quiet as he listened to Vin explain calmly, but he wasn't entirely convinced. He was beginning to understand Vin's reasoning though, just not agree with it, to him it didn't matter where you lived, there were always options, choices.
"Did you read any of that file I left you?" The question caught Chris of guard; he hadn't been expecting to talk about work. He shook his head no, he'd figured he'd leave it until Monday. "You should, it might help you understand."
Chris nodded, he would.
Vin opened his mouth to say something more when he was hit in the side by a small brunet juggernaut. "Hey. Carli," he greeted with a smile, sweeping the girl into his arms, "what're you up to?"
"Trouble!" the little girl grinned.
"I thought so," Vin said, shifting her so she sat comfortably on his hip. "Carli, this is Chris," he introduced, "Chris, this is Carli, you met her mother the other night."
Chris knew exactly what Vin met by "the other night", and he studied the girl carefully. There were bruises fading on her face and Vin had made sure Chris knew exactly where they had come from. He wondered if he really wanted to separate this girl from her mother.
"I'm going to get going Vin," Chris informed him. "The boys have invited themselves to my place on Sunday for a football party, you gonna come?"
The girl in his arms answered for him, "I thought you were gonna play football with us this Sunday, I wanted you to be on my team."
"I am going ta be there, but I can't promise that I'll be on your team, it wouldn't be fair to the other team if there are too many really good players on one team, and you being there already gives them an advantage. Besides, somebody's got to ref; can't have devils like you runnin' around unchecked." Carli grinned. Chris felt disappointed that Vin wasn't coming, it was like he was pulling away.
"'Sides," Vin added, talking to Carli, but addressing Chris, "the boys prob'ly won't get started 'til after we're done, 'cause the party won't really start 'til I get there, ain't that right Cowboy?"
"So we can expect you...?" Chris asked, hiding his relief, they were coming to terms with what had happened, and even if they didn't see eye to eye on everything, they were still best friends.
"Round when these brats have supper."
"Hey!" Carli exclaimed in mock outrage. "Vin, do you think 'Berto will be there?" She asked, turning serious all of a sudden.
"You know," Vin answered slowly, "I think he might be." Carli grinned, and Vin responded in kind. "Why don't you go in and tell your mama that I'll be right back in," he suggested.
Carli nodded and raced off as soon as he let her down.
"Who's 'Berto?" Chris asked, more to make conversation than anything else, he didn't want to leave just yet. It was crazy, just this morning he hadn't even wanted to look at Vin, but now he was hesitant to leave.
"Roberto is her brother, he's about 14, ran away a while back, stayed in the area though. Carli adores him."
"They don't look Hispanic," Chris observed.
"They're not," Vin snorted, part disgust, part amusement, "their pa fancied himself to be Mexican, so he Mexicanized his and Caroline's names for his kids, Roberto and Carlita.
"I gotta get back Chris, I'll see ya later."
Chris watched him walk away and wondered whether or not he'd actually show up on Sunday.
Vin closed the door to his apartment behind him and smiled. All in all it had been a satisfying day. They'd finally finished cleaning up Caroline's apartment the day before. Almost all the neighborhood kids had shown up for the football game he'd set up.
The best part of the day though was the reunion of Carli and her mother with Roberto. Seeing that had made it all worth while.
Vin glanced at his watch and sighed. It was getting late, and by the time he got to Chris' it would be even later. Whatever games they were planning to watch were probably almost or already over.
He wondered if it was even worth it to go. He knew that they would still be there, if they couldn't find a game, JD would probably talk them all into a movie, not that that would be difficult.
It wasn't whether they'd still be there that he questioned, but his welcome. He knew Chris wouldn't say anything to the others, but they still hadn't completely come to terms with what had happened. Vin didn't have any regrets about what he had done, and he never would, but Chris He knew why Vin had done it, but he didn't understand so it was hard to accept. Which made it hard for him to look Vin in the eyes without seeing what he had done and being disgusted by it.
Vin didn't want to have to feel that every time his best friend looked at him, but he didn't want to lose his best friend either.
Vin sighed and made a decision.
"Thought you said Vin was coming, Chris," Nathan said, joining the blond man in the kitchen. The game that they were watching had just ended and Buck, JD and Ezra were arguing about what to do next. Josiah was watching from the sidelines, occasionally tossing in a comment to rile up the 'conversation' and keep himself amused.
"He said he'd be here, guess he had something going on with the kids this afternoon." Chris looked nervously at the clock, wondering like the rest of them if Vin was actually going to show.
"Could call, make sure he didn't have some sort of car trouble," Nathan suggested, "whatever he was doing, he ought to be done by now, those kids do gotta eat."
"I'm sure he's fine," Chris responded. "He'll be here."
Josiah had entered the kitchen in time to hear the end of the conversation. JD had dropped out of the argument and was fiddling with the entertainment system, so Josiah had left to see if there was anything more interesting going on in the kitchen than Buck and Ezra's usual banter. "This have anything to do with whatever the two of you were fighting about on Friday, brother?"
"No, at least I don't think so," Chris answered honestly, "but we are working on that."
Both agents were glad to hear that. Seeing Vin and Chris at each other's throats like that was disconcerting and almost scary.
In the other room JD turned on the radio. Immediately he was assaulted by suggestions. Nathan grinned. "Think we should go in there and save them from themselves?"
Josiah grinned wolfishly, "No, but we can go in and enjoy the show." He started towards the living room, calling back as he went, "You want to grab the popcorn there, Chris?"
Nathan laughed and followed him. Chris smiled and followed as well, but stopped in the doorway.
JD mumbled something uncomplimentary and rolled his eyes as four voices assaulted him with "suggestions". All he needed now was for Chris to start.
Well, a hammer fell down on a .44 Primer
And that was one less problem in South Carolina tonight
Wrong or right
"Hey, kid, this ain't — "
"Shut up Buck, I like this song," JD snapped.
The others fell quiet, surprised.
JD had first heard the song when he was listening to the radio with Vin. Actually, Vin hadn't heard the song, he'd gone to do something quickly and missed all but the last two lines. When JD had asked about it Vin had said he'd never heard the song before, and JD hadn't heard it since, but he remembered really liking the song.
She just looked to me as she finished her tale
The blank expression went another pale shade of gray
There was nothing to say
The others all found themselves listening to the song, hearing it's message and listening to the story.
In the shadows of her face I saw the scars
That you get when you live where love is hard
And she said
Don't you sit and judge me from some high and mighty seat
Don't you shrug it off until you've walked a mile in my bare feet
There are people that you pass by every day
With harder cards than yours in life to play
Well, I put the cuffs on her and sat her in the car
Walked inside, he was layin' on the floor stone dead
Been shot in the head
There were whiskey bottles and dope by the chair
A starving baby with nothing to wear but tears
So the picture was clear
Chris caught his breath, suddenly this song was so much more than words being sung by some stranger that had no meaning to him.
He had finally pushed her way across the line
And the badge I wore was losing all its shine
And she said
The woman had a face, a name, the man had a file sitting on his desk filled with arrest records, suspected drug dealings and domestic abuse.
Don't you sit and judge me from some high and mighty seat
Don't you shrug it off until you've walked a mile in my bare feet
There are people that you pass by every day
With harder cards than yours in life to play
And that was what Vin had trying to make him understand. Faced with this same situation as a third party Chris couldn't see what was so blatantly obvious in the poetry of the song.
I just stood there thinkin' how justice is blind
But after thirty five years you learn to read the signs
So I made up my mind
I took the cuffs of her and I walked her back in
Wiped the gun off and wrapped it in his right hand
Where it should've been
In the same way that the woman had taken on a face and a name, the cop became a young man with long hair and strikingly blue eyes that were windows to a soul that felt everyone else's pain.
And the morning paper read in black and white
It's just another senseless case of suicide
Suicide
Suicide. Chris had thought that Vin had admitted that it had been murder when they had talked, it had sounded like that, but he never had. And Chris agreed, suicide.
Oh, but don't you sit and judge me from some high and mighty seat
Don't you shrug it off until you've walked a mile along my beat
There are people that you pass by every day
With harder cards than yours in life to play
Chris heard the echo of Vin's voice in the last chorus, you can't know what it's like unless you've lived here, there are so many shades of gray.
Well, a hammer fell down on a .44 Primer
And that was one less problem in South Carolina tonight
The radio moved on to other music, but JD turned it off. They all sat there in silence for what seemed like a very long time, none noticing that their missing member had joined them and was leaning against the wall where the front hall joined the living room, shrouded in shadows, almost mirroring their leader's posture.
Buck was the first to shatter the silence. "Deep kid," he said quietly.
"What would you do in that situation, Buck?" JD asked quietly, hesitant to destroy the reverent mood, but curious none the less.
"Jeez, Hell if I know."
"What about you Josiah?" JD pressed, not satisfied with Buck's answer.
"I can only pray that I would do the right thing."
Nathan nodded in agreement. Ezra was a little more vocal, but not much. "Although I am not a particularly religious man, I am forced to agree."
"Chris?" All eyes swung to him expectantly.
Chris raised his gaze from his intense study of the floor to lock with the clear blue eyes half hidden in shadows. He spoke slowly, honestly, "Reckon he was just too stupid to pull the trigger himself."
Chris was only interested in one person's response, and as the Texan's lips curled up in a faint smile, he saw what he was looking for, but that smile was nothing compared to the emotions in those eyes. "Reckon you're right Cowboy," Vin drawled softly.
Le Bout
(why does almost everyone end their stories in a different language?)
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