I Wish It Were All A Bad Dream

I wish it were all just a bad dream. Those words kept floating through Vin's mind as he was processed in. The uniforms were better, not those sorry orange jumpers, but gray with prisoner or inmate down the side of the pant leg. Three uniforms, three sets of underwear, one blanket and a pair of shoes. This was his wardrobe now. He took the small pile from the guard and steeled himself to be introduced to the main prison population.

The guard pushed him ahead of him using the end of his nightstick a little too zealously in Vin's opinion. He hurried his step to keep from being poked anymore. The final door opened in front of him, and the guard behind him, said

"Welcome to the big house, convict."

He tried to ignore the clang, and bang of the doors, and the sound of them opening and closing on well oiled tracks, being pulled by a chain. That was one thing about jail, the noise came from everywhere. Doors, the low rumble of voices, the sudden calls from guards and prisoners. It really never got quiet, and he had never gotten used to it.

As they started to walk him down the chain link enclosed catwalk, the other inmates noticed him. He closed his ears to the taunts and kept his eyes straight ahead as other inmates made rude and lewd gestures as he was walked past them.

"Fresh Meat!"

"Yo, Baby, looking fine."

"Check that ass out! Looks tight to me"

"See you later, Sweet thing!"

Vin didn't let them get to him. This was mild compared to what would happen when they found out what he used to be. That's when he would hurt and hurt bad. He was taken to a cell. Whoever his bunky was, they had already claimed the top bunk, so Vin put his small pile of possessions on the bottom one. Then the guards told him he would be taken to the Warden and then released with the rest of the prisoners.

The meeting with the Warden, Warden Richter, was none too pleasant. Three big, ugly guards stood in the room making their points absolutely clear. The warden made the rules, and they backed them up, preferring force whenever possible.

"Now, Tanner, considering your background and how you came to my establishment, I would expect your first few weeks here to be...somewhat difficult. Ex-law enforcement officers usually have a hard time fitting in. However, we have a zero tolerance level for fighting here. So I suggest you behave and not cause any problems. Understand?"

"Yes, Warden, I understand," Vin said quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time. Yep, he was going to hurt big time.

They didn't wait long. That night as Vin sat on his bunk, they showed up. It was recreation hour, and the word had already hit the block that he was an ex-cop. Slowly, he watched eight men come into his cell. He looked at Marcos, the head of the little gang, and calmly asked,

"Something I can do for you, gentlemen?" Vin asked, getting up, moving to where he had the back wall of the cell behind him. They might beat him up, but he wasn't the only one going to the infirmary.

"We heard an interesting story about you, Tanner," the Hispanic male growled.

"Really?" Vin asked, trying to look as calm on the outside as he didn't feel on the inside.

"We heard you used to be a cop."

Vin kept his face blank. "True enough, but I ain't one now, and the cops around here have no great love for me, I can guarantee you that." He leaned back against the sink behind him, and crossed his arms. "You want to hear the story, or you just gonna beat the shit out of me now?"

Marcos copied his actions, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Oh, go ahead, pendajo. We love a good story."

"I was working vice. Looking for a real twisted perv. He was taking the young kids. Teenage boys off the street, and cutting them up. I got assigned the job. I spent a few weeks doing the streets, busted a bunch of johns that liked them young."

"I'm sure you did, esse," another man said, licking his lips.

Vin met his stare evenly. Then looked back at Marcos. "Anyway, I got a line on the bastard. I moved into his turf and was just waiting for him to show up. And he did, but he showed up a little differently than I expected. He went to my pimp, who happened to be the head of our unit, and offered him five grand for me. They yanked me off the street quicker than shit. I was off duty, in fact the next day I was supposed to leave town for a week or two, but..." Vin paused for effect. "The next morning I woke up handcuffed to my own bed, with my own cuffs, duct tape across my mouth and my badge laying on my stomach."

"Found you, did he, Baby?" another one asked him. The others hooted and hollered.

"Oh yeah," Vin confirmed. "He sat there running a rambo knife up and down my body, saying how sweet it was gonna be to hear me scream. Saying he'd never had him a cop before. I tried to fight him, but all that got me was my legs tied out. Then the phone rang, and he got nervous. He decided to move me, and the last thing I remember was watching him sink a needle in my arm."

"Go on, cop," Marcos instructed, after he had quieted his men down.

"Heroin. He kept me higher than a kite for a long time. The guy was sick. He took me somewhere, I'd guess the old warehouse section of town, an abandoned warehouse and for the next six weeks my life consisted of an old mattress that smelled like piss in a room with the paint peeling off it, and that fucker sticking a needle in my arm. He used me every way he could and as long as I was tripping, I didn't care. Shit, I didn't care that he cut me up. All I cared about was that needle."

"Riding the stick, while riding the horse," one man said.

Vin nodded.

"Then he let you come down, didn't he. He made you pay for your fun."

Again, a nod.

"Yeah, he let me come down to where I was shaking...screaming. Left me there, handcuffed by an ankle to a pipe, and then he showed back up. I was heaving, shaking and he told me what he wanted to give me a needle. I did it. Soon, I'd do anything he wanted, just so he didn't string me out. Then he started selling my ass."

"Oh, man, ain't that a kick in the balls. The man was selling a cop's ass," Marcos commented. "We can only assume you did your work well, puta."

"I was moved to private stock," Vin whispered. "And I stayed there till vice broke up one of his little parties. My old unit. They found me tripping out of my mind, tied to a bed, waiting for my next customer. They took me to the hospital, and I got dried out. Then, internal investigations showed up. I was put back on duty but only flying a desk until they finished their investigation. But I couldn't stand the pressure. I broke into the evidence room one night, and got me some stuff. It hadn't been stepped on yet or anything. Shit, I nearly killed myself the first time I did myself."

"Go on, Baby," Marcos said, sitting on the edge of Vin's bed.

"The first time I got caught, my unit covered for me. Next time, my Captain sold me out. The press got a hold of the story and I was offered up like some sort of virgin sacrifice. Shit, by the time I was sentenced, I wasn't even dried out. I got fifteen years. Eligible for parole at ten."

"What were the charges?" Marcos asked

"Theft and Possession," Vin stated quietly.

There was laughter from around the cell. Marcos laughed too. "You got fifteen years for possession?"

"I was a cop, they gave me the maximum on everything. And that was three years ago. End of story."

Marcos stood up. "Good story, Puta, but we don't like cops here. Any kind of cop."

They moved in on him. It was a good ten minutes before the guards showed up, but Vin had been right, he wasn't the only one who ended up in the infirmary.

"Mr. Tanner, you were warned about fighting," Warden Richter said. "Full body chains. Maybe a week will teach him a lesson."

Same old story, Vin thought to himself as he lay in his bunk, half-heartedly reading the graffiti with one eye swollen shut. Cops hate you for going bad; inmates hate you for being a cop. Lose/lose situation. Now he got to spend a week almost completely defenseless. Could life get any better?

He soon discovered it could. He had visitors. He was taken to a room, with chairs and a table. He glanced around wondering who rated a meeting here. He did however take in the security cameras and knew their was probably audio surveillance as well. The door opened again and Vin felt his stomach lurch.

"Oh, man, you all have great timing," he said through a split lip, looking at them lopsided because of the eye that was still swollen shut. "Shit, I'm just healing from my last beating for being an ex-cop and you two show up. Should have me back in the infirmary before tonight is over. Thanks." He turned back to the door, and looked at the guard. "Take me back to my cell."

"Guard, can we have a minute?" Chris asked, as he got up from the long table in the center of the room.

Vin lowered his head against a wall. "They aren't supposed to do that," Vin pointed, out as the door shut behind the guard.

"Professional courtesy," Buck said, sitting down, straddling the back of a chair.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" Vin asked. "Word is all ready all over the place that you two are cops. The longer I'm in here with you, the worse it's going to be for me."

"Vin, we need your help," Chris said, stepping up to him.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"Vin, please," Chris said quietly.

"Stay away from me, Chris," Vin pled.

Chris stopped where he was, about four feet from him. "Vin, we got a problem here."

Vin just stayed where he was, not meeting Chris' look.

"Someone in here is dealing drugs, Vin, and we need to know who it is."

"Shit, Chris. I've been clean for three years and I ain't going to back to it. And I ain't whoring myself for you anymore either. You sold me out. When I needed you guys, you turned your backs on me."

"Vin, we need your help."

"I don't work for you no more, Chris. Guard! GUARD! Get me the fuck out of here."

But the door never opened, and then Chris, who was right behind him, murmured,

"Vin, please."

"Please? How dare you," Vin growled spinning around. "You testified against me, you son of a bitch." Vin tried to raise his arms. "Look at me, Chris. These are real! Look at my face. Want to see the rest of them?" He yanked what he could of the prison uniform out of the way. He saw Chris flinch. "I should be pissing blood for at least a week. I was lucky none of them had a knife, and now, just being in here with you is begging them to work me over again. And now you want me to help you? Get a grip of reality, Larabee." If he could have raised his hands past his waist, he would have hit Chris. "You really do want me dead, don't you?" Vin turned back towards the door, and beat on it as best he could. "Guard, get me the fuck out of here!"

"Okay, Vin, we'll leave you alone. Just remember, you know my home number. If you change your mind, just give me a call. Okay?" The guard opened the door, and looked at Chris. "Vin...I'm...I'm sorry, man."

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it, Larabee," he hissed. Then in a brighter tone of voice he said, "Hey, you all may want to watch the prison obits. That way you can tell if you really did get me killed."

Vin was taken back to his cell. He didn't have to wait long. Marcos came back in.

"So what did the cops want?" Marcos asked.

"They wanted me to help them. Seems someone's doing drugs in here," Vin said, sitting up. "Major surprise, Huh?"

"And?" Marcos asked.

"Like I told them. I don't work for them anymore." Vin jerked at the belly chains in frustration.

"You expect us to believe that, gringo?" Marcos asked, coming closer. He grabbed Vin by his shirt and lifted him clear of the floor. "You're here for less than a week and you got cops visiting you? You think we're stupid, pendajo?"

"Look, Marcos..."

And that's as far as Vin got.

When he woke up, he recognized where he was. Solitary. He tried to sit up and groaned at the pain. The flap on his door opened, a guard looked in and then shut it again. Slowly, Vin sat up, protecting the ribs he knew were broken. He sat on his bunk, in the false light of fluorescent bulbs, his body screaming in pain from the beating he had received, and considered the very unmanly act of crying.

For three days he sat there wondering how in the heck he had 'volunteered' for this job. Ezra was the undercover agent, not him. But Ezra was already undercover and this one couldn't wait. Chris had called him into his office some three weeks earlier.

Vin, I wouldn't ask you to do this, unless it were important.

So Chris had explained in excruciating detail how thee prisoners in this prison had died of explainable causes, except for the tiny blip on each of the autopsy reports stating the heroin had been found in each of the bodies. With permission the bodies had been exhumed and re-examined. One had "hung" himself, the other fallen down a staircase and "broken his neck" and the third had been beaten to death. Once the outside autopsies were done, it was discovered that each of the accidents had happened after their deaths and the prisoners had actually died of heroin overdoses. So Team Seven had been called in, and Chris had asked him to go undercover.

Vin, there's something else, Chris had said. They were anally penetrated.

Violently.

He had spent three weeks in an Oklahoma high security facility, a whole bunch of documents had been faked, and the warden there had been let in on the case, but when he had transferred to Brownsville, all that information was withheld. He was a cop gone bad, and he was definitely getting more results than Chris had expected, but Vin knew he would get the shit beaten out of him, and to play the part, he had to go with it.

He figured he was safe from the prisoners in here, but the guards were still likely to take a shot at him. A situation he wasn't looking forward to. Nightsticks hurt.

Finally the door to his cell opened and the Warden came in with his favorite crony: Marsden. Actually Marsden wasn't a bad cop, just a prison cop who had had his job for too long.

"On your feet, Tanner," Marsden growled.

As Vin struggled to his feet, he figured he was going to get the good cop, bad cop routine and his suspicions proved correct.

"Really, Marsden," Warden Richter said, "This isn't boot camp."

Vin finally reached upright and stood there, breathing harder than usual.

"Would you like a cigarette, Tanner?" the warden asked, holding out a pack as he lit one for himself.

"No, thanks," Vin said.

Marsden snorted in the background.

Richter just nodded and put the pack away. "I've been reviewing your records from Oklahoma State. It looks like things calmed down for you pretty quickly after your first month."

"There abouts," Vin agreed. He knew where Richter was headed and wondered how long it would take him to get there. He shifted his stance and couldn't suppress the grimace as muscles protested.

"Sit down, Mr. Tanner. I'm sure you must be in pain after that last... altercation you had with the other prisoners."

"Thanks, but I'm standing now," Vin said, not wanting to show that much pain at this moment.

"Actually," Richter continued. "That's why I had you moved here. I know how the men treat an ex-cop, and I didn't want you beaten to death in your first two weeks."

"I appreciate that, Warden."

"Well, good. I'm glad to hear we can treat each other with civility," Richter said.

Vin heard the lead in to the real reason Richter was being so nice to him.

"So I wanted to ask you, why did the ATF come to see you?"

Vin laughed and grimaced again. Damn, his ribs were killing him. "Actually warden, Chris and I served together, and he found out I was here and ... well it seems you got a drug problem here, and he wanted me to help him."

Richter and Marsden exchanged glances.

"Well, all prisons have some drug traffic," Richter said.

"Yeah," Vin agreed, wishing he had taken Richter up on his offer to sit down. He felt like he was going to pass out.

"And what was your response to Mr. Larabee's offer?"

Richter had definitely done his research, since Vin had never mentioned any names. "I told him that I just want to do my time and get out. I didn't want to get involved in anyone else's shit ever again. I did my bit for the good of mankind and all it got me was fifteen years."

"So you decided not to cooperate with them?" Richter clarified.

"Yeah," Vin said evenly, meeting his eyes.

"Well, that's good to know," the warden said, as he started to turn to leave, stubbing his cigarette out on the cement floor. "If there's anything I can do to help you with that goal, Mr. Tanner, just let me know."

When he turned his back, Vin was bumped, none too gently, by Marsden, and Vin got the message. He was on their shit list too.

That night, he lay back in his bunk, trying to breathe evenly and shallowly. Marsden had obviously reviewed his medical records, because there wasn't a place on his body that had been bruised by the inmates that he didn't work over too.

Three days later, Vin was escorted back to his bunk in full body chains again. His cell-mate, Karl came in and stared at Vin as he lay in his cot, still trying to breathe shallowly.

"Heard you fell down while you were in the hole, " Karl stated with a sneer.

"Yeah," Vin said in a breathy voice. "Damn bars of soap. You know how it goes."

"Yeah, I sure do," Karl answered.

Then the dinner bell sounded, and Karl looked around. He leaned down and spoke quietly.

"Watch it, Cowboy. You are on the dinner menu." He offered his hand to Vin to help him sit up.

"Great," Vin said, as he took the offered hand. "Can life get any better?"

"No, but it can get a whole bunch worse. Watch your ass."

"Shit," Vin groaned. And once more he wished this were all a bad dream.

Vin slowly shuffled along through the dinner line and tried not to think about the slop being sloshed onto his tray and over his uniform. He didn't look up when people hooted and hollered at him. He got a cup of coffee and picked a table with a pole at his back. He noticed that no one sat within three seats of him. He took a few sips of his coffee and was actually grateful the food was soft. One of the guards had laid a nightstick across his cheek and the teeth hadn't tightened back up yet.

However, before he was able to indulge in the tasty repast of prison hash, a food known for its vitamin content and ability to make grown men barf, a shadow covered the "hash" on his tray. He looked up, squinting against the lights behind the person. Pete, Vin identified. The biggest gay man in the place. He was known for giving a person one chance and if they said no, they took up their part in his little operation under duress. In other words, you either let Pete at your ass, or he sold it to the entire cellblock. Considering Pete weighed in at about two, seventy-five and stood a good six foot two, he was more than able to back up his threats. But Vin didn't think he was the one doing the heroin. He was too likely a person and some of the bruises on the dead men indicated handcuffs were used.

"Hey there," Pete said, looking Vin up and down.

Vin thought for a moment or two, without saying a word.

"Most people answer when I talk to them, you little fucker," Pete growled.

Vin was surprised at how quickly his demeanor had changed. His first sentence had been inviting and now it was all anger and intimidation. Vin just continued to stare wondering how much this was gonna hurt.

"What can I do for you?" he finally asked.

"You know what I want," Pete smiled dangerously, looking Vin up and down again. "What's your answer?"

Vin looked back at his plate for a second. He glanced at the exits and saw Marsden watching them closely. Shit, one way or another he was gonna pay for this. He looked back at Pete, and very calmly said,

"My answer is NO!" When he said no, he threw his cup of tepid coffee in Pete's face, and as he stumbled backwards, Vin got to his feet.

Trying to fight someone with about fifty pounds and a couple inches of arm's length, not to mention being in body chains made Vin the definite underdog in this confrontation, but that didn't stop him from trying. He followed Pete backwards and threw his head forward as hard as possible, into Pete's face. The blood spattering all over the place, confirmed that he had more than likely broken Pete's nose. Pete shoved him backwards and Vin hit the table he had been sitting at. He leaned back, lifted both of his legs, and caught Pete in the belly with his feet. Then, despite the screaming muscles, pushed with all his strength and watched with some satisfaction as Pete went sprawling backwards into another table. The other prisoners were not thrilled having Pete in the middle of their meal. They started beating on Pete, but an arm came around his throat.

"That's it, Tanner. You're going to D-block."

Vin wouldn't have admitted it to God himself, but he sure was glad Marsden had come as quick as he had.

I wish this were all a bad dream, Vin thought as he and his small pile of possessions made their way to D-block.

D-block was for the problem children. The guards were mean, the food there made hash look good, and the rules were stricter than a metal rod. Actually your life expectancy in D-block was very short, even shorter these days since the three prisoners that had died were assigned to this block.

Marsden handed him off to the head guard at the sliding doors separating the two blocks.

"Welcome to D-block, Tanner. My name is Post. Rules here are simple. Don't screw up."

"Right," Vin said quietly. "Don't screw up."

Vin was thrown against a wall, which was more than painful. His ribs exploded in agony, he saw bright lights in front of his eyes, and every other ache and pain awoke with excruciating clarity.

"Now see, you already broke the rules," Post growled. "When you are addressed by a guard in this block, you answer 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' and you look at a guard when they address you. Do you understand, prisoner?"

Vin met his eyes, and trying to keep from letting his voice crack from the pain he was in, responded, "Yes, sir."

"Much better," Post replied.

He gestured Vin down the hall. They walked until Post told him to stop, and then he opened a cell door and gestured Vin should go in. Vin looked at it warily. It wasn't much more than a five by five room. He didn't like being in places that small. He wouldn't even be able to stretch out on the bunk, but he entered when Post gave him a disgusted look. Hell, even solitary was eight by eight.

"Much better, Tanner. You just might make it here."

"Yes, sir," Vin replied, putting his stack down on the bed and waiting for Post to leave. Then he lay down on the bunk and slept.

A week later, Vin mopped a hall listlessly. He had never been released from the body chains and was kept isolated from the rest of the population. His food was a step above bread and water, but not by much. He had to get out of this hell hole, because he was just not wired for being in jail, let alone twenty-two hours a day in a five by five foot cell. He was fed in his cell, kept in his cell the rest of the time with the exception of thirty minutes of exercise and ninety minutes of work detail. He was getting too jumpy, and if he didn't get a lead soon, he was going to have to have Chris get him the fuck out of here.

Then one night, Post came to his cell, after lights out. He looked at Vin, and waited for a moment.

"Can I help you, sir?" Vin asked, actually frightened this guard may actually want Vin. He was pretty damn defenseless in his present condition.

"Read your file, Tanner."

"So?"

"Life on D-block can be made easier," Post said quietly.

"How?" Vin asked, praying it wasn't what he thought it was.

"A little give and take," Post said quietly. "I give you something and you take it."

Vin felt his stomach flip flop. "What do you give and what do I take, sir?"

"You take it like a pretty little bitch and in exchange, I make life a little easier for you," Post said, moving to Vin's bunk.

"How do you make life easier for me?"

"I give you some candy now and then. You've been there before," Post said vaguely.

"I test positive for drugs and I lose all chance of parole," Vin said, wanting to verify what Post was offering.

"Pee tests can be circumnavigated, and then again, pee tests can be altered to test positive as well," Post said with a very nasty smile.

Vin felt a cold chill take over his entire body. He didn't know what to say.

"Your decision, loser. However, you should be aware of the fact that if you continue this way, life will be much, much harder," Post threatened. "Let me know what you decide."

Vin was heavily harassed the next day. He managed to lose lunch and dinner privileges within a half an hour of breakfast. He was in his cell feeling very trapped, when Post came up to his cell, cussing and slamming shit. Vin cringed inside.

"You got visitors, you little fuck, and if you open your mouth, I will see you will regret it, severely," Post threatened, as he yanked Vin to his feet. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Vin was taken to a room, and almost wanted to cry when Chris and Buck came in again. However, Post's presence dampened any joy Vin may have felt.

"Shit, Vin. What happened?" Chris said, coming close to him.

Vin caught the look from Post. "Slipped on a bar of soap," he stated evenly, but it brought Chris to a full stop.

"Bullshit..." Chris started.

"Look, Larabee, what do you want? I managed to survive the last beating, but I am really not in the mood for a long drawn out conversation." Message number one. Keep it short and sweet. I am in trouble.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Chris said. Vin could tell he was taking in the bruises that were slowly healing on his face. "I came to see if there was anything I could do?"

"Erase the last three years of my life?" Vin asked snidely. "Can I go?" Message number two: he needed to get out quick.

"I wish I could, Vin."

"Me, too, but we can't. So, why don't you go back to your nice little office and finish your paperwork, and I'll go back to my cell and finish my sentence." Message three: he knew who was dealing, and could finish the case up soon, but he needed just a little more time to get the proof.

"Fine," Chris stated, his face set. "I just wanted to check on you."

"Still alive and kicking, Larabee."

"If you need any..."

"Nope, don't need jack, except for you all to leave me alone," Vin said.

Post roughly led him back to his cell. Vin was slung through the door and hit the wall hard.

"You handled yourself good, Tanner."

"Thanks," he said, as he tried to catch his breath. "Glad I made you proud."

Post got a nasty look on his face as he locked Vin's cell door. "You forgot 'sir' again, Tanner. Too bad, no breakfast."

Vin wanted to cuss as he shuffled to his bunk and lay down. Shit, how was he going to work this out. He knew, that he knew, that he knew Post was going to want payment before he would come across with the drugs. Shit! I wish this were all a bad dream! He screamed in his mind.

After two days of managing to lose his meal privileges, Vin was feeling lightheaded as he finished mopping the hall. He heard someone laugh and looked up to watch Post walk up and down the hall in greasy muddy shoes. Vin looked up, wanting to smash the idiot's face, but the look he got back promised him dire pain if he so much as breathed wrong. He lowered his head, and put the mop in the bucket and headed for the closet. As Vin bent down to lift the bucket, and get clean water, he felt the familiar twinges. He passed out before he could put the bucket back down.

He woke up in the infirmary and Warden Richter standing beside him. He tried to move and found he had been restrained.

"Starvation, Tanner. I didn't expect that of you," Richter said.

"D-block is hard, sir," Vin stated, knowing arguing or telling the warden the truth would just make things worse.

"It's supposed to be."

"Yes, sir," Vin said.

"Anything unusual happen there, Tanner?"

"No, sir, nothing unusual," Vin said, seeing Marsden in the background.

The warden nodded, and then lit a cigarette. "Good," he said, "because, I've decided that once you're healthy again, you'll be moved back to C-block. I think you've learned your lesson about fighting."

"Yes, sir. I have."

It was later that day that Vin got his first shock. Someone came up beside the bed, and it was Nathan.

"Prisoner Tanner, you seem to be one accident prone human being," Nathan said, flipping through his file. "Two broken ribs, several cracked ribs, bruised kidneys, facial fractures, and near starvation. Care to explain these injuries to me?"

"Accident prone, sir," Vin said, fighting to smile.

Nathan just gave him that look that used to irritate Vin, but now made him want to leap for joy.

"Yeah, right," Nathan replied. Then he set Vin's file aside and walked off. That night, when Nathan made his rounds, he was checking Vin's heartbeat and as he leaned over, Vin whispered,

"Post, D-block. He's the dealer. Using it to get sexual favors from the inmates."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Well, Tanner you got a strong heart. Sit up."

Vin complied and as Nathan leaned over his shoulder and thumped on his kidneys, none too gently, Vin thought, Nathan whispered,

"Anything else?"

"He's approached me, that's why I'm here."

Nathan straightened back up. "We'll keep you on soups today and then start to get your body back on solid foods, Tanner. If you refuse to eat, we will put in a feeding tube. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The next day, Vin's mouth started watering when they were still four beds from him. Food! And even though it was not exactly what you would call gourmet, Vin had never eaten so well in his life. He got actual food, a hamburger and a chocolate chip cookie.

Vin was escorted back to his old cell by Marsden almost a week later, with a firm warning that if he screwed up again, he was back in D-block. And, if he tried another stunt like starving himself to death, Marsden would personally insert the feeding tube. So for three days, Vin kept his nose clean, he didn't talk to anyone, he did his chores and he ate, although he did miss his cookies from Nathan.

The next day, he was in the exercise yard, when he was called by a guard. He looked over and nearly started laughing. It was Josiah. Team Seven was moving in for the kill.

"Sir?" he asked politely, watching the sparkle in the big man's eyes that said hello in a much friendlier fashion.

"Tanner," Josiah said. "Remember me?"

"No, sir," Vin said confused.

"I was at Oklahoma,"

"Sir? Oh yeah," Vin covered.

Josiah leaned in closer. "We need to get you back into D-block,"

"Are you fucking nuts?" Vin said, louder than he meant to. "My ass is grass if I go back there."

"Shut Up!" Josiah barked. "I didn't ask your opinion, Tanner!"

"Is there a problem?"

Vin turned, surprised. He hadn't heard anyone coming up behind him. It was Marsden. SHIT!

"None," Josiah said. "Tanner and I are old friends. He was just trying to give me some lip."

"Not a wise idea, Tanner," Marsden growled. "You give me half a reason and you are back in D-block."

"Yes, sir," Vin grit out. Was Chris insane? This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

"You don't want to go back to D, do you, Tanner," Marsden stated.

It was almost a question, but Vin thought he would play it safe. "No, sir. I don't."

"Then keep your ass in line," Marsden growled.

"Yes, sir," Vin said, and then he asked. "Can I go now, sir?"

"Get out of my sight, Tanner."

Vin made his way to his cell and his bunk and lay down. Karl came in and took a leak. Then he turned and looked at Vin.

"You ever gonna snap out of this?"

"When I walk out that gate," Vin said quietly.

"Man, you got years before you're even eligible for probation." Karl went to the door and looked left and right. Then asked quietly, "Man, I got some weed. You want a J?"

"Nope, I test positive for drugs and I do my full time. I ain't even taking that chance," Vin said and then turned towards the wall.

"Man, of all the luck. Of all the people in this prison, I get you for a cell mate."

Then Vin heard the scuff of a boot. "Hit the road, Karl."

Shit, it was Marsden. Vin rolled onto his back to see Marsden staring at him with his arms crossed.

"What happened in D-block, Tanner?"

"Nothing, Sir."

"Bullshit!" Marsden said, taking a step towards Vin. "Starvation? That ain't your style and I checked your sheet there. You were getting busted left and right for tiny shit. Who did you piss off?"

"No one, sir," Vin said, sitting up. Marsden was towering over him, and it was making him nervous.

Then in a lightening fast move, Marsden had Vin pinned to the cinder block wall by the throat. Vin cursed mentally, Marsden was quicker than he gave him credit for, and now he was struggling to breathe.

"You better talk now, Tanner, or I'll get my information another way."

"Post. He was interested in me. He said if I didn't do it, he'd fake a pee test," Vin whispered, as he tried to swallow past the massive hand shutting his windpipe off.

"What else?" Marsden asked, backing off on the pressure on Vin's throat a little.

"When I didn't accept, I was on his shit list."

"Then why in the fuck does he want you back?"

"How in the hell do I know?" That statement scared Vin down to his toes. Why did Post want him back? A chill ran through him.

"And what did that new guard want?" Marsden increased the pressure again.

"He was from Oklahoma. I knew him there," Vin choked out.

Suddenly the pressure was gone. Vin lay on his bunk trying to breathe. He looked up at Marsden, rubbing his bruised throat.

"Too many people are interested in you, Tanner."

Vin couldn't agree with him more.

Marsden met his eyes. "I'm gonna have to think on this one. Mind your ass, Tanner. Someone put the word out on you."

Vin lay on his bunk, wishing to hell that he was on the outside with drug dealers shooting at him or some shit. That was easier than this. Just before dinner, Pete paused at the open door to his cell.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," he called and then laughed and kept walking.

Vin just closed his eyes, a cold ball of fear congealing in his stomach. For a moment he allowed himself the comfort of thinking of Chris. His hands, the way his lover was gentle and considerate but demanding at the same time. The blue eyes that always had a warmth to them, but could read your soul in a heartbeat. It wasn't until the piercing horn of the 'dinner bell' overrode all the other noise that Vin opened his eyes and shook free from his thoughts. His friends were here. He wasn't alone.

As he made his way to the mess hall, Marsden moved to cut him off. Vin stopped and waited for the big guard.

"You are in trouble, Tanner," Marsden said quietly.

"Yes, sir. I am," Vin agreed, hoping that under that hard shell, there was a human being.

"Big trouble," Marsden repeated, tapping his baton in one hand.

"And if I get in a fight, sir?" Vin dared to look up, and although Marsden's face was angry, there was a quirk that encouraged Vin.

"You get in a fight, Tanner, I'll put you back in the hole."

"Yes, sir," Vin said. That was the best news he could have heard. Marsden had a choice, leave Vin on C-block, and have Pete after him, move him to D-Block and Post was going to get him, or move him to solitary, and that was probably the safest place for him.

That night, Pete showed up, and Vin was ready for him, and this time Pete went to the infirmary, and Marsden, who showed up relatively quickly, escorted Vin to solitary and locked the door.

Vin sat in solitary, trying to maintain his calm. If it weren't for the fact he was relatively safe here, the small space was getting to him. He knew when this assignment was over, he'd get a week of down time, and he planned to spend it at the ranch. He needed space, and he needed quiet, and he fucking needed Chris. Vin was not a needy person, but this type of assignment pulled at you and drained you.

On the second day, a uniform came in and when Vin saw who it was, he almost threw himself at the guard.

"Fuck, Chris. You gotta get me the fuck out of here. I am bait," Vin exclaimed.

"I know, Vin, but we're close. And I've been talking to the judge. They want hard proof or it's a wash."

"Shit! Do you know what I'll... No. Getting my ass raped ain't in the job description," Vin said.

"Of course not, can we use a wire?"

"Uh, uh, showers are supervised and under surveillance. Chris, I got people after me in C and D. You have to get me out of here."

"Who's after you in D?"

Vin looked at Chris as if he had just kissed a rattlesnake.

"Post! Damn it, Chris. The man is using heroin and easy time in D as incentive to be his fuck buddy!"

"Okay, calm down, Vin. I didn't know he'd gone that far. Okay, but we're gonna have to get you back in there. And someone in to cover your ass. Shit. Okay, I'll get it worked out."

"Work fast, Chris. I am as accessible to you as I am to him."

"Easy, Vin. I know it's wearing on you. I have the situation under control," Chris said, moving closer and touching Vin's arm.

Vin jumped like Chris had handed him a live wire. "No. Not here, not like this and not now!"

Chris just squeezed his shoulder. "It's almost over, Vin. Hang on."

"How do I hang on in this!" Vin just about screamed, all the pressure's coming to the surface and cracking the cool Texas veneer. He started pacing the small space, throwing his hands around. "Hell, Chris, all I keep repeating to my self is: I wish this were all a bad dream. I have to get out of here!"

Chris took a step back towards the door, pulling Vin with him, out of the range of the camera. He wrapped Vin into his arms. Vin let his guard down and almost clung to Chris.

"It's okay, Vin. It's almost over," Chris crooned, as his lover held him tightly. He brushed his lips over Vin's hair. "I'm here. We're all here. You are not alone."

It took a few minutes before Vin felt strong enough to stand alone, and Chris held him until he did. He whispered words of love to him, held him, giving what comfort he could. Then when Vin tried to stand up, Chris easily let him go.

"You okay now?" Chris asked quietly.

"Yeah," Vin said, looking down. He was feeling a little sheepish after that display.

"I'm gonna get JD in D. Me, if I can swing it, but Post has seen me and Buck, so that may not be a possibility, but I can make a visit as Agent Larabee and lean on him. When I know you're safe, I'll let you know. I won't send you back in alone, Cowboy."

"Just get me out of here, Chris. I ain't wired for prison."

"I know," Chris winked at him, and it filled Vin with warmth.

"Love you, Larabee."

Chris just nodded and gave him that special look that promised Vin, Chris loved him, too.

Vin was asleep in his bunk when the door to his cell burst open. He tried to jump up, but a knee in the small of his back held him down. His arms were twisted behind his back and cuffed there, and a cloth with a knot in it pulled tightly into his mouth, splitting the edges of his lips.

"NO!" he tried to scream, and started to fight with desperation, but it did no good.

"I warned you about opening your mouth you little bitch."

Soon, his ankles had been cuffed to the metal bed stanchions, his head was pressed into mattress, making breathing a chore, and his prison issues yanked down past his knees. What he wasn't expecting was a sharp pain in the back of his leg, and then his blood was on fire, his heart was tripping out of his chest. Good God, every part of his body exploded into a fire and a sensation he couldn't even begin to explain, and a voice whispered.

"There's your candy, prisoner. Now let's have some fun."

Vin was vaguely aware of the door to his cell opening again. Although he was still very fuzzy, he had enough presence of mind to roll away from it. He hurt. His body hurt where he'd beaten him, his arms and ankles hurt from where he'd fought the cuffs and his ass was raw. He started rocking until a gentle hand touched his arm, but all it did was make Vin curl up into a tighter ball on his bunk.

"Vin?"

He bit his lips to keep from sobbing.

"Vin? What happened to you?"

Vin just rocked. He didn't want to be hurt again.

"Vin?!"

Hands rolled him over.

"Oh, shit," a voice said.

The covers were pulled away from his body, and nakedness revealed. It was cold in here. Vin curled back onto his side.

"Vin? Vin! Baby, look at me. Please, Vin, look at me."

He slowly looked up and met the blue eyes. Vin was wondering why Chris was crying. He knew he was in trouble, but not so much that Chris would cry.

"Oh, shit, Vin! Who did this to you?"

"Post," Vin croaked out. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna kill the bastard!"

Vin shied from the anger in Chris' voice. "I'm sorry," he keened.

Then gentle hands on his face, helping him sit up. "No, Vin. Not you. I am not mad at you. I am mad at the son of a bitch who did this to you."

"I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to let it happen. I didn't mean to lose my badge."

"What are you talking about?"

"Can't be ATF if I've done drugs, Chris. I lost my badge."

"No!"

His arms were yanked out, and the crook of his arms inspected. "I don't see anything."

"He did my leg, Chris. He put it in my leg," Vin sobbed.

He let Chris turn him over and he felt the covers gently moved, and heard Chris cuss, and then gentle fingers run down the back of his knee.

"Two times, baby? Did he do you twice?"

"Did me a hell of a lot more than twice," Vin said, misunderstanding the question.

He cried out as fingers bit deeply into the sensitive skin.

"The fucker is dead!" Chris growled.

"I don't think so, Agent Larabee," a deep voice said.

Then Vin heard a sickening crack and a heavy weight land on his back. Then once more, the sharp pain, and everything ceased to exist, well almost everything.

Vin opened his eyes, and looked around. He was confused. He tried to lick his dry lips and tasted blood. He tried to open his eyes, and found he couldn't open one of them. As he reached a higher level of consciousness, his body screamed in agony. He felt the need to puke and rolled to his side, but when he twisted over, he identified pain, he didn't want to categorize.

He threw up over and over, as memories of him lying there, Post fucking his ass, while Chris lay handcuffed on the floor having to watch the show Vin was putting on. Him, laying there, mumbling like some junkie fool, while some hard dick, raped his ass. Vin heaved until he was sure he was going to hurt himself. He shook his head groggy, as he tried to spit the foul tasting liquid from his mouth. His head exploded into a sharp line of pain that throbbed dramatically, and started puking all over again.

Then he remembered the rest of it. Hell, he glanced up and saw his cell door was open and red lights flashing in the hall. Hell, they were in lockdown. Post had started to beat him, he'd been telling Vin he was a dead bitch, and pulled his nightstick. Chris had kicked out with his feet and they were scuffling, when the klaxons had gone off. Post had hit Chris over the head with his baton again and dragged Chris out the door.

Vin fought to get himself together, but realized he was still under the influence of heroin. Shit. He tried to stand up, wishing his head would explode to ease the pressure or clear the fuzzy shroud that surrounded his thoughts, and finally managed to find his clothes. Wincing, as he put on his underwear and pants, feeling a warm flow from his ass. Post had torn him up something awful. He just pulled his shirt on and unsteadily made his way to the door of his cell. He leaned against the frame to keep from falling down, and swallowed to steady his stomach.

Everything was quiet, and the observation room was empty. Vin slowly made his way down the thirty-foot hall, having to pause and rest several times before he got to the door. He stared at the door for a moment trying to understand why it stood open. After several attempts he managed to get inside the control room. When he did, he leaned heavily on the control board, and scanned the cameras.

"Shit!"

They had a prisoner take over in progress. C-block was a battlefield of burning mattresses and partying prisoners, D the same thing. A wave of nausea came over him, and he almost threw up on the console. He backed up the tape and saw where the guards that had been in here had been taken by the prisoners and dragged out.

"Shit!" he moaned.

He leaned over, holding his rolling stomach, trying to think clearly past the excruciating pain in his head. He took a few deep breaths and looked around. There was a pot of coffee. He poured himself a cup and downed it. Maybe that would clear some of the cobwebs out of his mind. Then he looked around the control room. He found a bottle of aspirin and took a small handful of aspirin with another cup of coffee, desperately praying it stayed down. His eyes stopped on a spare utility belt. Vin stumbled towards it, and looked to see what it had on it.

A nightstick, a can of pepper spray, cuffs and a set of keys.

Vin started laughing, and it sounded strange in his own ears. "I can't believe this."

He picked it up, stripped it of all the equipment and started towards C-block. He had this really insane idea forming in his brain, but he had to verify where Chris and the others were before he put it into action.

He entered the cell-block and started hacking, the smoke from the fires burning his eyes and lungs. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was fucking party, at least for the inmates. He leaned against the wall as he lost his balance and felt lightheaded.

"Hey, Tanner."

Vin looked up and saw Karl. "What is going on?" Vin asked.

"Man, you should have seen it! We took over the fucking block, Man. Ain't it great?"

"Oh yeah, great," Vin repeated. He tried to stand up but was hit by a wave of nausea and stomach cramps. "Shit!"

"What in the fuck is wrong with you?" Karl said, grabbing his arm. "Man, let's get you sitting before you start falling." He guided Vin to a table and sat him at it.

"Post, man. He wanted...man, he shot me up."

"Post? Shit. That boy is bad news. He's been fucking inmates for years. Now he's doing this shit. Fuck that bastard. You okay?"

"Hell, no!" Vin groaned, as another wave of nausea came over him. He started puking again.

When he stopped, he saw someone hold out a tin cup of water. He looked up and stared.

Marcos held the cup out to him. "Drink it, Tanner. Just water."

"Thanks," Vin groaned as he took a sip and rinsed his mouth out and spit. Marcos put his foot up on the bench beside him.

"Got a deal for you, Tanner. Karl told me what Post did to you." Marcos leaned over. "I don't like gringos too much, but you earned my respect, man. You stood your ground, you didn't beg and you kept your nose out of the drugs. It makes me mad Post did that to you. So I'll make you a deal." He pulled a gun out of the waistband of his pants. "We caught him and another cop coming up out of solitary. We found out the other cop knows you. In fact, he was one of the ones that put you away. So I figure you owe these guys in a major way. So, Tanner," Marcos said, putting particularly stress on Vin's name. "They're yours. Cell twenty-eight." He held the gun out to Vin.

Vin stared for a moment and then took the gun. Man, someone was smiling on him today.

"Cell twenty-eight?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Vin tried to stand up and found Marcos helping him. "Man, you're still kiting."

"Sure as hell am."

Marcos lead him to the cell where Marsden, Chris and one or two other guards were locked up in. Vin looked at Chris and lifted the gun.

"Looks like our positions are reversed. This time you need me, Larabee. Think I'm gonna bail your ass out of this?"

"Don't do it, Vin. Hell, you'll do your full time," Marsden growled. "Shit, you're in Texas. They'll fry your ass for killing a cop."

Vin pulled the slide back and re-aimed at Post. "This fucker shot me up, Marsden. I just lost parole, and I ain't gonna live much longer in this hell hole. And that mother fucker is the one who put me here and this one is the one who screwed up three years of sweating."

"Vin," Chris warned.

Vin wiped the sweat from his forehead, but ended up doubled over as another wave of cramps twisted his guts into a knot. He slowly straightened back up. Marcos was watching, but he wasn't going to interfere this time.

Vin wiped his face again. He was actually planning on using Marcos to take the cell-block back over, but he was too far away to grab him. He took a step forwards and aimed at Chris' head, worried about his hands shaking.

"Vin, I can talk to the officials. I can get you off on this test," Chris said.

"I gotta dry out again, Chris," Vin screamed, as once more his guts twisted into a knot and he fell back a step. He had to play the part, and if this was what withdrawals felt like, he sure as hell wasn't looking forward to the rest of it.

Then he had Marcos by the neck and pointed the gun at his temple. "I'm sorry man, but I owe him, and I owe Marsden."

"Fucking Shit! You damned, stupid Gringo. What in the fuck are you doing?"

"I can't let you do it, Marcos. You know as well as I do, you ain't getting out," Vin whispered, as he led Marcos to the control booth and unlocked the door with the set he had gotten from the hole, which he had stored in his underwear. He handcuffed Marcos to a set of pipes and turned back to the board. His vision was swimming, he was sweating and he felt another wave of cramps coming.

"You a stupid fuck, Tanner."

"True enough, Marcos, but like I said, I owe 'em."

Marcos said something in Spanish about him being a stupid white man, but Vin ignored him. He hit the intercom button.

"Okay, gentleman, party's over. In your cells, before I hit the tear gas."

There was much moaning and groaning, but slowly people started to file into their cells. He scanned the cameras praying that he could stay on his feet five more minutes.

The halls looked clear, and Vin turned the lock closing all the cell doors.

"I want a hand count, now," he announced.

"Cell fifty-three, sixty-seven, one oh nine and thirty-five, I don't see two hands."

He wasn't fooled when hands appeared. He knew there were still people loose.

"You all better show up by the count to five or I am turning on the gas. One, two, three, four...."

Four people showed up, he put them in the nearest available cells.

"Twelve, I only see one hand."

"That's my cell, pendajo!" Marcos growled.

"Okay, I know there are five guns out there. I want them gently thrown out of the cells."

Vin twisted as his stomach once more wrenched. He threw up on the floor of the control room.

When he could stand up again, he saw three guns on the floor outside cells.

"Four and a fucking half!"

One more hit the floor. Vin hit the gas, and let it run until he saw the fifth one. He turned it off and hit the ventilation system. He waited another four minutes before he went back to cell twenty-eight, but he slipped to his knees as the pain in his gut became unbearable.

"Vin," Chris cried, and he tried to stand up and move towards him.

"Get the hell away from me, Larabee," Vin groaned.

Then what he had been waiting for happened, Post leaned forward, "I got another one in my pocket, Tanner."

Vin stared at his pocket and saw the outline of the hypo.

"Just waiting for you, baby. All you gotta do is let me go, and I'll do you right and make all the pain go away."

"Fuck you, bastard," Vin growled, stumbling towards him. "You'll be lucky to live!"

"I got more, Tanner. I'll keep you flush. Just undo these cuffs and I'll get us out of here, and let them straighten this mess out. We'll be long gone."

"Tanner, don't." Marsden said. "He's lying. He can't get you out."

Vin pulled the needle out of Post's pocket. "You got more?"

"Yeah, in my locker. Gotta keep my men happy."

Vin stared at the needle.

"Vin, don't. You can beat this again."

"Shut up, Larabee you don't understand this shit." Vin rolled his sleeve up.

"Easy, Tanner, undo my cuffs. I got a tourney. I'll do it for you," Post said, moving so he could get his hands out from behind him.

"You promise, " Vin asked, as his hands started shaking violently.

"Yeah, baby. I'll do you right," Post said, he turned and lifted his hands towards Vin.

"That's great, Post," Vin groaned, as he sat back on his heels. He turned to Chris who lifted his hands as well. Vin could barely see to unlock the cuffs.

"There's your proof, Chris. Now get me the hell out of here," Vin groaned, as he once more was assaulted by dry heaves and wracking stomach cramps.

"What in the fuck are you doing, Tanner?" Post screamed.

"The right thing," he groaned, as he twisted on the floor in agony.

Vin vaguely remembered Chris cradling his head, wiping his face down with a wet rag. He remembered being moved to the infirmary and hearing Nathan's voice, but the shaking, cramps and pervading cold were all that really mattered.

He woke up. He felt clean and it was quiet. He looked around. There was an IV in his arm, monitors and Vin smiled when he saw Chris asleep in a chair. He inhaled. He was in a hospital. He moved and groaned. Chris was at his side in an instant.

"Easy, Cowboy."

"Chris?"

"You're okay, Vin. You're out. The drug thing has been explained and it was unanimous that you were not losing your badge over this. You're almost a week through the withdrawals, baby."

"It worked?"

"It worked, cowboy. Post is in jail. He's going down for a long time, Vin. Now stop worrying, and heal."

"I feel like I've been drug behind a horse," Vin said with a weak smile.

"Well, you look worse than that," Chris answered.

Vin's eyes were closing. He felt Chris kiss his forehead, and whisper, "Please rest, Vin. Rest and get healthy for me."

It was two weeks later, when Vin shot out of bed like he had been bitten.

"God damn it!" he cried.

"Vin, it ain't that serious, come on. Come back to bed."

"It ain't serious for you, Chris. You ain't having a problem getting it up."

"All! Right! Vin!" Chris ordered. "Get your ass back in this bed now. Having you a temper tantrum ain't doing you any good and it ain't doing us no good. I have had enough of this. Now get back here and let me hold you."

Vin slowly climbed back into bed. Since he had dried out, he had remembered most of what had happened in the hole that day. It made him sick to think what he had done and had allowed that guy to do to him. He felt Chris' arms come around him, loving him, but it didn't wipe away the greasy feeling he couldn't shake.

"I know it won't make a bit of difference until you forgive yourself, so just know I still love you, Vin. The only way it matters to me, is it hurts me to know you were hurt.

Vin folded in on himself, letting there be as little contact between the two of them as possible. He heard Chris sigh and felt even more guilty. How could Chris even want to touch him after what he had seen. Vin just wanted to disappear and never see anyone ever again. He stared at the glow in the dark clock and watched the minutes tick by until sunrise.

Vin awoke to a wonderful sensation. He felt who he instinctively knew was Chris slowly rocking into him. He recognized the hard muscles, the scent of his after shave and just the presence that was Chris Larabee. He groaned and pushed back against his lover, taking him even deeper inside.

The feeling of Chris entering him was wonderful. He heard Chris grunt, and pull him closer. Vin wanted to touch Chris, but in this position it wasn't possible. He pulled one leg forward.

"Chris," he gasped, as Chris pushed deeper inside of him.

"I'm here, Vin," Chris answered, thrusting even deeper inside. His cock stroked Vin's prostate and wrung a deep moan from Vin.

Vin loved and hated this from Chris. He was not in a position that he could touch Chris. He just had to lay there and take it. Although taking it from Chris was one of the most erotic experiences of his life. Chris could make Vin beg and they both knew it.

Then like a bucket of cold water, memories flooded through Vin's mind.

"Don't go there, Vin. Please, let me love you," Chris whispered, as Vin tensed in his arms.

"Do it, Chris. I want you. You know that. I just can't get past my mind."

"I'm here, cowboy."

"Love me, Chris. Please get me past this."

"I will, Vin. I swear I will," Chris said low and deep. Then he started talking. "I love you, Vin. Nothing can change my mind, cowboy. I love the feel of your skin, the way you react to me, the feel of me in you or you in me. God, Vin, nothing can change it."

And all the while, he was slowly rocking into Vin. Then Vin felt Chris' hand close over his now limp cock. Chris slowly, but with the perfect amount of friction, caused the foreskin of Vin's cock to stretch and then contract, and then in a delicious action, rubbed his thumb up and over the top of Vin's cock. It made him grip Chris' cock, buried deep in his ass, even harder. Soon, Vin was pushing back, searching for a purchase to quicken Chris' pace.

But, Larabee, had other things in mind for Vin. It felt like hours. Hours of the sweetest torment he had ever known. Chris continued to stroke his cock, and squeeze his balls, and touch all those spots that made Vin twist. He chewed on Vin's neck, marking him over and over, while his hard cock pumped in and out of Vin's ass. If Vin had been in any other position, he would have grabbed Chris and told him to get it in gear, but he couldn't. He could only lay there and groan as Chris brought him to a desperate level of excitement.

"Chris, please. It's too close. I need you. I need to see your face. Please, Chris! I can't take this no more."

"Okay, Cowboy. I'm here," Chris whispered, as he pulled back slightly. Vin took the opportunity to slowly turn onto his back. He smiled when Chris groaned. He had tightened up, and Chris seemed to appreciate that. He did it again, and watched Chris turn his head to the side and close his eyes.

"I love you," Vin whispered.

"I love you, too, Tanner, and you know it," Chris said.

Then when Vin was on his back, and he hissed in pleasure when Chris pushed his cock deep inside him. Vin arched his back as liquid fire exploded through his body. He cried out when Chris pulled back and drove in again.

"But I want you too, Tanner. I need to make you mine again. I need to see you come for me. I want to erase what that bastard did to you."

Vin could only grab the sheets, and lift his legs. Chris roughly put them over his shoulders and move closer, driving himself deeper into Vin's hot body.

"Chris," Vin cried out, almost helpless to Chris' will.

They didn't do this often, but Vin needed it. He needed Chris and his strength, and Chris knew it. Vin felt his throat tighten and a burning in his eyes. He opened them and found Chris staring at him. He couldn't hide his emotions from his lover, but he wished for once, Chris couldn't see into his soul.

Vin reached for himself, for some fool reason, he wanted this to end. He wanted a reason to shut his eyes, but his hand was encased by another warm hand.

"Ain't gonna let you run, Vin," Chris growled.

And once more, Vin was caught in Chris Larabee. Chris set the pace. Chris was in charge and finally Vin let go and let Chris take control. When he came, he screamed Chris' name. He felt his cum hit his stomach, and a moment later, he felt Chris cum deep within him, crying out as he did so. But even in the wake of his own orgasm, Chris slowly milked Vin to a boneless heap of conflicting emotions. Just when Vin called himself a whore for what happened in jail, Chris wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

"I love you, Vin."

Vin's breathing got hoarse, and he held Chris' arms around him as his eyes stung once more.

"Cowboy, let it go. It wasn't your fault."

"He...he...I let him, Chris. I just lay there like some stupid fool and let him," Vin voiced his own guilt.

"No, Vin. Hell, he had to cuff you and give that shit to get to you. Vin, you fought me about going back to him. Shit, I know you don't remember it, but in the beginning, just after he hit you. Vin, you fought him."

"I'm sure it was a hell of a fight, too," Vin said sardonically.

"Doesn't matter, Vin. What matters is: you fought him."

A week later, Vin walked into the office. He had dreaded walking past all these people that had known him before. He just nodded to the secretary in the main hall, and kept walking. When he got off the elevator, the hall was pretty much empty and he didn't really know the one or two people that were there, so he just kept walking. He was getting that greasy feeling again, and his hands were starting to sweat.

Finally he turned the handle and entered their offices. He froze when everyone in the room stopped and looked up at him. He just scanned the faces, the faces of his friends, and nodded. Then he went to his desk, and sat down. He reached over and flipped his computer on, and looked at the stack of messages on his desk. He reached out and picked them up.

He started to thumb through them when a cup of coffee appeared beside him. He looked up when a hand closed on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. Ezra.

"Tough assignment, Mr. Tanner. Welcome home."

Vin let the warm southern accent fill his heart like a warm spring breeze. He nodded and went back to his messages.

A little later, Josiah came over to him and just patted him on the back.

"Good to have you back in the fold," he said with that sparkle in his eye. "We missed you."

Vin almost felt himself smile and he noticed that greasy feeling was slowly sliding away. He got up a few minutes later and went to the restroom, and when he came back, there was a cookie sitting on his desk by his cup of coffee. He looked at Nathan and got a challenging look from his friend.

Buck and JD wandered over soon. JD spouting some nonsense about new computers and Buck vaguely listening when he mentioned that he'd heard about this new lunch place and wanted to know if Vin wanted to go with them.

"I reckon I can join you for lunch," Vin said, once more looking at his friends and smiling back at them.

He got only encouragement and warmth in return. He turned back around to his desk and saw Chris standing in the doorway of his office. Chris just nodded and went back into his office and closed the door.

Vin sighed. He was really glad that this, his friends, his lover and his life weren't just a bad dream.