Green Day - Final Version - Pt 1
May. 1st, 2010 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Prologue
JD hated black. It felt thick and oily, and he always got a picture of himself choking in liquid crud when he saw it. He had nightmares about it sometimes – surrounded by nothing but black, unable to escape the darkness churning around him. For a long time, JD hid from Mr. Chris whenever he saw him, praying that this strange thing that was so comfortable with black as to wear it against his skin – and wear it constantly - wouldn’t find him. He could never tell, after, if he was more afraid of Mr. Chris or his clothes.
JD wasn’t fond of green, either – it was all hard and spiky. This texture was fun to play with and feel sometimes, but eating green things wasn’t something he was all that comfortable with. Despite repeated exposure, he could never stop imagining his green vegetables tearing great strips out of his throat as they went down. For his Buck, though, he would choke them down, firmly reminding himself that nothing had happened the last time he’d eaten broccoli or peas or green beans, and so it was probable nothing would happen this time, either. That didn’t change the fact that they tasted bad in addition to the unappetizing green color.
On St Patrick’s Day, his Buck chose to wear a shirt the same green as dandelion leaves. JD had once heard a friend of his mother's refer to the color as 'hunter green', and it had made him wonder then if hunters had thorns, too. That reminded JD how much the color prickled against his skin - sharp points digging painfully into his flesh, and JD decided to forgo his morning hug from Buck. He couldn't imagine how Buck could handle the sharp prickly sensation, and it only served to make him an even braver hero in his eyes.
**************************MAG7: ATF LB********************************
Part 1
Vin heaved a strictly internal sigh when JD hid behind him, staring over his shoulder at the expanse of Mr. Buck’s green-covered chest. JD was usually happy to see Mr. Buck – as happy to see Mr. Buck as he was terrified of Mr. Chris. Vin didn’t know how to tell JD that Mr. Buck in a green shirt was the same as Mr. Buck in a bright red, purple, and orange Hawai’ian shirt, and he didn’t know how to explain to Mr. Buck or Mr. Chris why JD reacted that morning the way he did. He just knew it was going to be a very long day when JD slipped in close behind him, hand fisted in his shirt, eyes studiously examining the floor, abnormally silent.
It didn’t help that Mr. Buck often startled Vin himself with his loud voice, or that Vin often caught himself carefully watching lest the gregarious man’s excited gesturing turned into a swift cuff or stiff-armed shove. It never did, and Vin thought he might, might, be able to trust Mr. Buck a little more. But he still wrestled with the idea of trusting the adults in his vicinity at all, and so he waited, and watched, and worried.
***********************MAG7: ATF LB*************************
“Boys, wash up and get some breakfast!” Chris shouted up the stairs. Morning was always chaos, what with getting the boys ready for school, the horses, dogs, and barn cats fed, himself and Buck ready for work… The first few days of this had reminded Chris forcefully of the same routine rush he had practiced with Adam and Sarah. For once, Chris was glad of the memories, as they brought with them some of his previous organizational habits, knowledge of what was likely to go wrong, and how to minimize such things. Good thing, too, because Buck had been completely out of his depth.
Chris grinned, thinking of that first morning in January when he'd had to get the boys and Buck ready for school and work. Buck had gotten out of the habit of waking early, what with living in the downtown area close to the Federal building. He was so used to waking up after 6 and getting to work on time that he’d forgotten to set his alarm back. Chris had thrown a shoe at him to get him moving, and even then he didn’t really wake up until Chris sent JD in to bring him to the table. Buck had walked – or rather, limped, as he was trying to put on his boots – into the kitchen with a dazed expression, hair still wet from a quick shower, JD chattering a mile a minute, fingers sticky from pancake syrup playing with the chest hair that peaked out from under Buck's white undershirt.
Chris had been cleaning up the pancake griddle when Buck’s explosive “Shit!” had him whirling around – at which point he’d lost his battle to keep from laughing at his friend. Buck had finally gotten on his boots, only to realize he’d forgotten to put on his pants. Buck had improved a lot since then, but there were still days when getting him out of bed and moving was as much of a chore as getting their two little orphans to school.
Today, Buck was moving pretty quickly, albeit with a slight frown on his face.
“Buck?”
“JD-“ he started, then gestured to the doorway where the two little boys were hesitantly watching them.
Chris glanced at the boys and beckoned them in. “Come on, guys, hurry up.” It wasn’t unusual for JD to hide from him, although he hadn’t quite figured out why yet. He’d systematically softened and lowered his tone around JD, physically lowered himself to the child’s level, even tried candy and treats, but nothing really seemed to work. It was strange, however, that JD was currently practicing that same behavior with Buck, whom he adored. Now, as Chris watched, Vin whispered urgently to JD, trying to get him to come to the kitchen, while JD frantically shook his head and pulled backwards on Vin’s hand. Buck looked confused and lost and hurt, and Chris desperately wanted to make that look go away.
“Vin,” he said gently, “does JD have a tummy ache?” They’d quickly learned that Vin, as JD’s appointed protector, was the dispenser of information in situations like this. JD clammed up tight.
But Vin shook his head, and Chris’s heart ached to see fear skitter across the boy’s eyes.
“It’s ok if he’s sick, you know,” Buck added quietly.
“He’s not sick.”
“What about a nightmare? Did JD have a bad dream last night?” Chris pressed. Sometimes JD had dreams that resulted in him hiding from Chris more than usual.
“No.”
“Did we do something to scare him? You can tell us, and we’ll change it.”
“He’s fine. He’s not sick, he’s not scairt, he’s jist fine!”
Vin’s eyes had taken on a desperate cast now, and he was actually backing up one slow step at a time, JD hidden behind him. It was obvious they wouldn’t get anything more out of him at the moment. Vin was so desperate not to be any trouble, so desperate to make sure he and JD were the perfect little boys, that Chris sometimes wished he would leave a mess in the living room just so he knew there really was a little boy under that miniature adult. They’d have to wait to work on Vin’s and JD’s insecurities until later that night, however. They still had to get ready for school.
“Well,” said Chris, making a tactical retreat, “you two still have to eat, but it’s getting a little late now. How about I put some Cheerios in a bag for you to munch on on the bus?”
Vin nodded, relieved.
Chris turned back to the counter to make up the little snack packs and grabbed some extra single-serving milk bottles. He made sure their lunches were packed and handed them lunchboxes, JD’s red with the Power Rangers on it, and Vin’s a plain blue. Buck made sure that jackets, hats, and mittens were put on while Chris made one last circuit of the house to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. As they hurried out the door, Chris and Buck shared a frustrated look, silently agreeing they needed to talk to someone.
*******************MAG7: ATF LB**************************************
Everybody was wearing green at school that day, and the school itself was decorated with green shamrocks and little bearded men wearing green clothes. Vin thought the men were cute, but JD seemed to be a little nervous about them. Even so, he seemed to be handling it well, more quiet than usual, but not so clingy. Until lunch.
“Oh, no!” Vin groaned to himself. He had forgotten the lunch room was painted green – a light green that reminded him of the green foam Beau, Mr. Buck’s big grey horse, sometimes got on his face after eating a lot of grass. It was slimy and neat and kinda fun to watch Mr. Buck yell at Beau when the horse got his fur all green from the foam. JD had never liked the green on the walls, but usually he was okay with it. Today, he let out a sort of whimper and glommed back onto Vin as if he’d been glued there.
Vin led JD through the lunch line, glad that he only needed to get milk for them. The lunch ladies were serving green things to the kids who bought their meals at the school: green beans, cooked spinach, and green jello for dessert. That would have been impossible to get JD to eat. At the cash register, the lady gave Vin two wrapped packages of two cookies each – green, of course.
“I don’t have the money ta pay fer ‘em, ma’am,” he said politely, even though the sugar cookies looked really good, “jist the milk.”
“Vin, honey, I made them for all the kids, they’re free. I love to bake, and today just gave me an excuse to do it.”
Vin didn’t quite understand that, but took the cookies and JD over to an isolated corner of the room. He thought that he might be able to get JD to eat if he didn’t have to deal with the overwhelming noise of the crowded cafeteria as well as the overwhelming green on the walls. His hopes were in vain; JD barely picked at his food, and wouldn’t even look at the cookies. Vin shrugged. He’d eat the cookies now, and save some of his own lunch for JD for later that afternoon, when they were at home. That way, he wouldn’t be wasting food, and JD would still get his share to eat.
Things improved some after recess, but not by much. Things that were green were the discussion of the day. The last class of the day was art class, and Ms. Chalmers brought out sheets of green construction paper and copies of a little man’s face with large ears and a beard.
“We’re going to decorate leprechauns today,” the teacher said. Just the hour before, Ms. Chalmers had read a book about leprechauns and gold and rainbows to the class, so Vin knew now what those little men that had been put up all over the school were called. “So, I want you to take a pair of safety scissors, and each of you get three sheets of green paper, and I’ll show you how to cut out his body and his hat. Then, you can spend the rest of the day coloring and decorating him. I’ll have glue, glitter, and markers up here for when you’re done.”
Sometimes, the teacher would run out of the right-colored construction paper, and the kids would have to make do with a different color. Normally, Vin hated to be singled out like this, because it meant his art projects invited teasing from the meaner kids. Today, he dragged his feet hoping that the green paper would run out before he got there. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Sighing, he got supplies for himself and JD.
When he returned to their table, he frowned. JD had drawn his legs up and tucked his face in the little space created between chest and thighs. His arms were curled tightly around his legs, holding him together and as Vin watched, he began to rock ever so slightly. Vin quickly glanced around to make sure no one was looking before leaning over to JD and hissing in his ear.
“JD, you gotta stop rockin’! Ya’ kin keep your head down, but please, stop rockin’.” The repetitive movement stopped, and Vin sighed in relief. He could pass a quiet, withdrawn JD off as being a little tired, but he couldn’t explain the rocking. Adults seemed to be afraid of JD’s rocking, and they yelled at him for it. Vin had had to fend off the occasional thrown fist aimed at JD, too, but he hadn’t told anyone that, not even Nettie Wells.
Vin watched Ms. Chalmers carefully and saw how she was folding the paper to produce symmetric shapes. He quickly cut up his own construction paper and JD’s, then, guessing that she was going to do the hat and shoes the same way, cut two sets of those out also. He glued the pieces together, finishing the bodies of both leprechauns about the same time the other children had finished their single efforts. He trotted back up to the desk, getting some glue, glitter, a selection of red and brown-dyed cotton balls, and various other things to decorate the leprechauns.
As the afternoon progressed, he became so engrossed in his efforts that he forgot to watch out for the teacher. Thus it was that when Ms. Chalmers came around to see how they were doing, she saw one happy little boy working away, and one very withdrawn one refusing to touch his assignment at all.
**************************MAG7: ATF LB*******************************
Part 2
“Larabee,” Chris answered the phone absentmindedly, still thinking about the maze of reports he was trying to make his way through.
The voice on the other end made him sit up.
“Mr. Larabee?” It was Paul Kensington, the principal at the boys' school. “Mr. Larabee, we've tried to get in touch with Mr. Wilmington, but he doesn't seem to be available right now.”
Chris glanced automatically at Buck's seat in the bullpen. “No, he's in a mandatory training seminar this afternoon. What can I do for you?” What could have gone wrong that they wanted to contact Buck? Chris often got calls regarding Vin's adjustment problems, but this was the first time he could remember that they had wanted Buck, specifically.
“Ah, well. It's just that JD seems to be having a fit of some kind. We have him and Vin in my office now, but we'd like someone to come pick him up.”
“A fit? Like a seizure?” JD had never exhibited signs of epilepsy...
“No, he's curled up and keeps rocking, won't talk to anybody. It's almost Autistic in nature. Ms. Chalmers discovered him in this state this afternoon during art class, and when she tried to touch him, Vin hit her.” Kensington sighed. “I'm not sure what was going through his head, but that was not an appropriate response; we can't encourage it.”
Chris was stunned. Vin liked Ms. Chalmers – at least he spoke of her like he did. What could possibly have lead to him striking out at her? And what was this about JD? Autism? That didn't make any sense.
“The training session won't be over till close of business, Mr. Kensington, but I'll come over right away.”
Chris was on his feet and moving as soon as he put the phone down.
“Josiah,” he said as he walked through the bullpen on the way out, “that was the school; I need to pick up Vin and JD from the principal's office. I'm not sure if I'll be back tonight – oh damn! Buck caught a ride with me this morning!”
“Don't worry, Chris, between the three of us, we can get him back to the ranch this evening. Go find out what's wrong with the boys.”
Chris glanced around at Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah, and thought again how glad he was to have these men on his team and at his side. Without their support and compassion for the two little orphans Team 7 had discovered in a seedy warehouse on the south side of town last year, he and Buck would have had a much harder time fulfilling all the obligations that came with being full-time agents as well as parents.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said, not quite knowing how to express what it meant to him that they were so willing to re-arrange their own lives so that he and Buck could focus on Vin and JD so much.
He left to the sound of three voices mumbling that it was no problem at all.
*****************MAG7: ATF LB*********************************
By the time Chris had parked his black truck in the teacher's parking lot and walked through Dustin Elementary's hallways to the principal's office, he was prepared to give Ms. Chalmers a chewing out that would be legendary in the annals of the school's history. He had mentally gone through every scenario he could imagine, and nothing had really made sense except the possibility of Ms. Chalmers harassing JD for some reason. Although the boy was usually very outgoing, he still had days where he depended on Vin's ok to do anything, and if this morning was any indication, today was one such day. Chris hadn't quite figured out the pattern of when their little chatterbox would decide that the world was safe to explore, versus when it held dangers around every corner, but he did know that when the JD decided on the latter, nearly ignoring him in favor of Vin's responses was the way to go.
All of that went away when he walked into the principal's office and saw JD curled up in the corner in as small and tight a ball as possible, rocking hard enough to bang his head on the wall.
“JD?” he whispered, stunned. He hadn't quite believed the principal's description of JD's fit, had almost convinced himself that JD was just being stubbornly silent for some reason. But the clearly repetitive behavior before him turned all his assumptions on their head. He'd seen Vin do this before, when his son had needed both to hide and have an outlet for his feelings of frustration and fear. Was JD afraid? He just couldn't imagine JD being afraid of anything at the school.
“Ah, Mr. Larabee, thank you for coming so quickly.” Chris's head snapped around to see Kensington at the door of the inner office. Kensington was a small man, short and wiry, with gray hair and kindly, twinkling eyes in a face full of wrinkles. “Come on in – Marcia, can you keep an eye on JD for just a bit more? This shouldn't take long.”
Marcia, the school's secretary, bobbed her graying brown hair in a cheerful agreement.
Chris followed Kensington into his office, where he found Ms. Chalmers sitting in one of the tattered orange chairs before the principal's desk, and Vin standing beside her, concentrating very hard on tracing random patters on the plastic laminate. Chris frowned; he expected much more tension than this scene implied. Vin's body language didn't imply discomfort at all, and while Ms. Chalmers was obviously distressed, she didn't seem angry with Vin.
“Sit down, Mr. Larabee.”
Chris sat in the remaining chair and held out his hand to Vin. “Hey, Cowboy,” he said softly, “wanna come here?”
Vin moved to stand by him, but avoided his hand and only looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
Kensington took his own seat behind the desk. “Ms. Chalmers, why don't you begin?”
“Certainly, Mr. Kensington, Mr. Larabee. I didn't really notice anything until Art Class this afternoon. Vin and JD almost always pair up for art -” and here she smiled fondly at Vin, “- they work very well together. Usually, they both do their work without any problems. Today, I noticed that Vin had cut up the construction paper patterns for both their projects – he does that sometimes when JD gets ahead of himself and starts trying to decorate first.”
Chris felt his mouth twitch, JD was notorious at the ranch for trying to do the last of his chores first, somehow thinking that if he got the final chore on his list done, the others would automatically be finished as well.
“I really didn't think anything of it, until I was walking around the tables, checking on the students and found JD wasn't working on his project at all. In fact, he was curled up, much like he is now, like he's hiding from something. I asked him what was wrong, and he didn't answer. When I reached out to touch him, Vin here pushed me away and yelled at me to 'stay away from him!' I was surprised – Vin's quite the protector on the playground, but he's never acted like this towards an adult before.”
Chris looked glanced across the desk to see Kensington nodding, a puzzled frown on his face.
“Vin,” Chris asked gently, “Vin, is that true? Did you yell at Ms. Chalmers?”
Vin shrugged, fingers moving in a steady figure eight on Kensington's desk.
“Vin, can you tell me what happened? Why you were mad at the teacher?” But Vin only shook his head and stared at his feet.
“We haven't been able to get him to talk either,” Kensington said. “We've re-assured him that Ms. Chalmers is not mad, and that we just want to help, but he still won't say anything. JD's behavior is even more distressing.”
“Yes, you mentioned Autism? But that doesn't make sense. JD's very bright, but he's not a savant.”
“You're right, it doesn't make sense, but Autism is what this rocking most reminds me of. JD seems to be reacting to something in his environment – what, I can't say, obviously. But rocking like this is common in Autistics when they find certain elements in their surroundings overwhelming. Most people only see the most severe cases, so they don't realize this, but Autism is a spectrum disorder; perhaps JD is high-functioning. Several other learning disorders appear to be related to Autism, so it's also possible he has some other problem. But I think for all our sakes, we need to get him diagnosed so we know what we're dealing with.”
Chris nodded. It would mean more visits with Dr. Lowery, but at least Kensington wasn't intent on shoe-horning JD into ADHD. He remembered one of the visits he'd had with Adam's kindergarten teacher, who'd been absolutely certain his little boy had ADD, because he liked to run around and scream like, well, like a little boy should. Chris had been so mad he'd had to run 10 miles that evening to work through his anger. Sarah had been equally pissed off, which she dealt with by baking bread. Buck had arrived at the house to find an abundance of 7-grain loaves on the counter, and had taken three home with him just so they would have room for groceries that weekend.
“That’s really all there is to it, Mr. Larabee,” Kensington concluded. “We need to find out what the issue is with JD and why Vin reacted the way he did before we can deal with this appropriately. But I recommend you take both boys home now, especially as it’s near the end of the school day, anyway.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kensington, Ms. Chalmers, I’ll do that.” Chris stood up to go, shaking the principal’s and Ms. Chalmers’s hands. “Come on, Vin, let’s go get JD settled in the truck.”
They made a little parade as they exited the office: Chris first, feeling a little nervous; Vin obediently behind him, head down; Ms. Chalmers, hands still fluttering in worry; and Kensington, bringing up the rear. Chris paused for a moment, taking stock of JD. He was still in his corner, rocking, rocking, his head softly thumping against the wall. JD was squeezed into as tight a ball as possible, and Chris wondered just how much he was truly aware of. Slowly, he walked towards JD, crouching down in front of him. He took care to soften his voice when he spoke.
“JD? JD, buddy, it’s me, Chris. What do you say we get out of this place, hmm?”
JD ignored him.
“JD, it’s ok, buddy. Whatever scared you, I won’t let it hurt you. Come on over here so we can go home, ok?” He continued softly for a few minutes, knowing that at JD’s age, the soothing sound of his voice was more important than what he actually said. At last, JD stopped rocking, although he stayed tightly curled up. Chris figured that as long as JD wasn’t moving, he could just as well carry JD as he was, and they could worry about the car seat when they got to the truck.
“That’s it, buddy, we’ll make it through this, too,” he said as he reached for the little boy.
“Don’t touch him!”
The accompanying shove took him by complete surprise, and he wound up sprawled on his side, head knocking against one of the chair legs, staring up at an enraged Vin. His son was standing protectively between himself and JD, and looked ready to pummel the snot out of all comers. His first, irrelevant, thought was it was no wonder that Buck kidded him about Vin’s ‘baby glare’. He’d never been the recipient before, but he could well imagine his boy facing down the ravening hordes of school children on the playground. Yeah, and give it 15 years or so, and you’ll make an amazing SEAL, kid.
“Vin,” he said, metaphorically picking his jaw back up, “you know I wouldn’t hurt you or JD, right?” Vin glared. Ok, maybe not. “I won’t, Vin, I’d never hurt either of you. I just thought it might be easier to carry JD to the truck. That’s ok, isn’t it?”
He was acutely conscious of the ridiculousness of the situation: a man of his height, experience, and training asking a small, skinny child for permission to do something that would normally be found comforting. But the look in Vin’s eyes gave him no doubt as to just where he stood right now. Dr. Lowery had warned him that if Vin felt he or Buck was ever a threat to JD, Vin wouldn’t hesitate to defend his friend vigorously. Chris was sadly and uncomfortably aware that Vin had probably done things no child should ever be asked to do in his quest to protect and defend his friend.
A soft thumping noise interrupted his introspection. JD was rocking again, harder this time as he picked up the tension in the room. Vin shifted uneasily as Chris slowly climbed to his feet. JD’s rocking had given him an idea.
“Vin, look at JD,” Chris directed quietly, “we’ve upset him.”
Vin glanced behind him, and Chris took the opportunity to whip off his jacket, and reach over Vin’s head to gather JD up in the leather’s warmth. JD’s reaction now was no less surprising than Vin’s had been earlier: he let out loud, heart-breaking wails of utter terror, and struggled violently against Chris’s grip. Chris brought him in close, muttering reassurances that didn’t seem to help, automatically rocking his own body in an approximation of the half-remembered rhythm he used to rock Adam with.
Only when he was certain of his grip on the struggling child did he turn his attention to Vin, who was beating him with his tiny fists coming perilously close to his groin. A few more minutes and second’s thought on the boy’s part was all it would take to incapacitate him for a good quarter of an hour. Nor was Vin’s attack silent – he screamed at Chris to put JD down, to let him alone. The cacophony was unbelievable.
“VINCENT MICHEAL TANNER!” Chris thundered. Vin flinched violently away from him.
Chris mentally counted to ten before he spoke into the frozen silence. “Vin, I know you want to help JD, but this isn’t the way to do it. Vin, Vin look at me.” He waited until Vin fearfully raised his eyes to meet his own. “Vin, we’ll talk about your behavior later. We need to get JD home. That’s all that’s going to happen right now, ok?” Again he waited, and this time received a tiny nod. “Grab your backpacks, then.”
Chris pivoted, nodded his apologies to Ms. Chalmers, Kensington, and the secretary, all of whom stared at him with varying degrees of shock and worry, before leading Vin out the door.
As they neared the truck, JD started to whimper and shake. Chris frowned – just what on earth was going on here? He reached for the door, only to find Vin already opening it, and scrambling in to be in a position to help get JD into his booster seat.
“Here,” Vin said, handing back Chris’s jacket. “It’s cold out.”
“Thanks, cowboy, but I’m ok.” Chris gave Vin a tired smile, but Vin only copied his earlier frown and shoved the black leather jacket insistently at him. He tugged the pale blue and white quilt from between the booster seats and plopped it rather haphazardly over JD’s still-tense body.
“JD kin use the quilt, Mr Chris. Won’t be no trouble.”
Oh, Vin. “Vin, no matter what happens, I’m never going to make you leave. You and JD are here to stay with me and Buck as long as you want to, I promise.”
Vin eyed him critically before shrugging. He got into his own booster seat and did the buckles up, and ignored Chris as he got into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot. Both boys were silent the entire ride, and JD, uncharacteristically, didn’t move a muscle.
Two steps forward, one step back, Chris thought, concentrating on the road. Vin obviously knew something, but just as obviously, he was afraid to tell them what it was. Hopefully, Dr. Lowery would help them get to the bottom of this. Whatever 'this' was. Worry crouched like an ugly toad in the pit of his stomach, and Chris wondered how he was going to tell Buck something was seriously wrong with his son.
*******************MAG7: ATF LB AU***********
“I’m sure Mr. Larabee has the situation well in hand, Mr. Wilmington,” Ezra soothed for the twentieth time since Buck had rejoined them at the office. Chris had ended up taking the boys home, calling the office to fill the others in and to warn them that he was making an appointment with Dr. Lowery for Vin and JD as soon as possible. He hadn’t called back with the time before they’d closed down for the day, however, and to say Buck was fretting was putting it mildly. If he thought getting out and pushing the Jag would get them home any faster, Ezra had no doubt he would do it. Fortunately, they were at most 15 minutes from the ranch, barring an epic disaster.
“Chris scares JD a little, Ez,” Buck said anxiously, leaning forward in his seat as far as the seatbelt would allow.
“Surely Mr. Larabee understands his impression on the child, and will take pains to minimize it.”
“It’s just that…”
“ ‘It’s just that’ what, Mr. Wilmington? Surely you don’t think Mr. Larabee is offended by Master Dunne’s reaction to him?”
“No… no. Chris has done everything he can to make JD comfortable – we both have. We just have to wait him out, I suppose…” Buck trailed off, staring into at the lights reflected in the Jag’s window.
“Hmmm.” Waiting him out was a good strategy to use with Buck, too, Ezra thought. He was too worried about whatever was bothering him to hold it in for long.
Sure enough, just as they pulled into the long driveway to Chris’s ranch, he began again, the words tumbling out so fast that Ezra wondered if Buck was taking his cues from JD, instead of the other way around.
“It’s just that this morning, JD was afraid of me, too. He’s never been afraid of me before, but he didn’t want to get near me at all – not even for a hug!” Buck sounded more distressed about not getting to hug his son than anything else. “What if I did something wrong? What if he doesn’t want to stay with us? What if…”
“Mr. Wilmington… Buck… Buck!” Ezra brought the car to a smooth stop and turned himself around in his seat to face his friend. “Buck, that child loves you, of this there is absolutely no doubt in my mind.”
“So why didn’t he want to get near me today?” Buck turned pleading eyes on him that were almost as difficult to resist as his ward’s. But where JD might want an outing or a toy, Buck desperately needed reassurance that he was doing the right thing, and Ezra knew he needed to pick his words delicately.
Turning back around, Ezra sat and stared at the house for a moment. “Are you so sure JD was afraid of you?”
Buck looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Ezra, you didn’t see him this morning – “
“That’s not exactly what I mean, Mr. Wilmington. Your description of him this morning clearly indicated some sort of emotional upheaval.”
Buck frowned. “Then what are you getting at? Exactly.”
Ezra studied his nails in the moonlight, speaking slowly, as if taking time to pull his thoughts together. “What I mean, Buck, is that you were absolutely correct that JD has never exhibited fearful behavior towards you before.”
“So?”
Ezra sighed. “It doesn’t make sense for JD to have been afraid of you today, and not for the four months prior to this. Particularly since he still views Vin as his primary protector.” Ezra paused, a small smile on his face. “And you, sir, appear to be his favorite toy.”
Buck laughed, the soft chuckle signaling the release of tension. “Yeah, I do seem to work well as a jungle gym, don’t I? So the key could be why JD’s behavior changed today, of all days. Nothing comes to mind, though.”
“Nor would I hazard a guess without a few days of observation, at least,” Ezra said, “but I don’t doubt that between the three of you - you, Mr. Larabee, and Dr. Lowery - will uncover the source of the poor child’s problem. It’ll just take a little time, Mr. Wilmington.”
Buck’s silence stretched long moments before he finally nodded, “Thanks, Ez. You sure you don’t want to come in?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Wilmington. Unfortunately, I have to go over the files for the Jennings case this evening. I’m afraid we’ve been so busy juggling our other cases that the court date rather snuck up on me.”
Buck nodded. “Well, drive safely. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Wilmington.”
As Ezra drove back down the driveway towards the long highway, he spared one more glance in his rearview mirror at the tall, muscular man opening the door into the Larabee household. “And as much as you love that child, Buck, I have no doubt that ‘a little time’ will be all that is necessary,” he murmured.
************MAG7: ATF LB AU***********************************
“Here,” Chris shoved a cold bottle of Bud into his hands as soon as Buck walked in the door. He looked tired, Buck thought, his forehead furrowed in abstract concentration. “Tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred,” he continued.
“Thanks… He’s not the enemy you know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“JD… he’s not the enemy… and whatever he’s fighting, whatever he’s going through, you can’t shoot it, or toss a grenade at it…”
Chris glared at him. “I know, dammit!”
“Mm-hmmm….” Buck sidled over to the phone in the kitchen, and sure enough, there was the note in Chris’s dayrunner, penned in black ink and block letters: BRF 0800 Dr. L: OP EXTRACT JD DUNNE.
“Then you want to explain why you’re planning a mission brief? And to ‘extract JD’? Extract JD? How are we gonna do that, commandeer a Huey?”
Knowing Chris as he did, he wasn’t surprised; Chris’s highly organized and precise approach to even the simplest of mission operations when they were in the Teams, and later, the ATF, had served him well. It had become such a habit that even now, Buck teased Chris about the detailed operations plans he put together to go shopping for groceries, buy presents for Valentine's or Christmas, and camping trips headed by Chris started to take on a concerted military feel if he wasn’t pulled up short from time to time. Then there was the memorable occasion when he tried to organize Sarah’s pregnancy and delivery on a schedule of precise timing. Neither Sarah nor Buck had bought it, intuitively recognizing Chris’s reaction as not-so-well hidden panic at the thought of becoming a father. Buck could see the same reaction now, with Chris desperately clutching at what he did so very well in an attempt to deal with the terrifying unknown.
So Buck watched as Chris responded to his gentle needling by collapsing onto a kitchen chair with a loud thump and running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know, but what am I supposed to do?”
“I kin take care of him.” The quiet whisper came from Vin, who had managed to sneak up on both of them, and was now shyly standing in the doorway, not quite able to look at either of them. “Won’t be no more trouble, jus’ please…”
Watching Chris go from frustrated team captain to gentle, loving father was nothing short of amazing.
“Please what, Vin? What do you need us to do?” Chris asked in a gentle tone devoid of all previous tension. He consciously relax tense muscles, opening his legs and leaning forward to project trust and openness. There was no sign at all of the hard warrior ready to do battle just a few minutes before.
“Don’t send him away! He don’t mean ta be bad!” With that, Vin turned and fled down the hall, obviously terrified he was going to be punished for his outburst.
“What the - ? Oh, crap, he must have heard us!” Chris headed after Vin, Buck trailing behind.
“Vin?” Chris pushed open the door to boys’ bedroom to find that Vin had hidden between the wall and the dresser. It was his safe place, too small for the adults to enter, but surrounded sturdy, protective walls. Chris hated it, hated that Vin hiding there meant he didn’t trust anyone else to protect him, and he hated it especially now since he was apparently the one who’d sent his son scurrying for cover. Tears ran silently down the child’s face in a steady stream, soaking his pajama sleeves.
“Vin, son, why do you think we’re planning to send JD away?”
“Because Buck said you wanted to ‘stract him and Uncle Ezra said last month he had to get one a’ his teeth ‘stracted and when I asked him what he meant he said he was gettin’ rid of it!”
Buck bit his lip to stop an unwanted snicker. Stressful though the situation was, he couldn’t wait for Chris to get himself out of this one.
“Vin, I… Ezra meant….”
“Yes, Chris, tell us what you meant by ‘extracting JD’,” Buck said, not above a little teasing to lighten the situation.
Chris tossed a half-hearted glare in his direction and huffed out a breath. “Vin, to extract something means to remove it, not get rid of it.”
Vin frowned suspiciously. “Uncle Ezra don’ lie t’ us,” he said, wiping his eyes.
“No, he doesn’t. When you remove a tooth, it’s because there’s something wrong with the tooth, and it has to come out, and yes, people usually get rid of the tooth. But when you remove someone from a place, you do it because the situation is bad, not the person.” That wasn’t always true, but it would do for now.
“So yer sayin’ that JD needs ta’ go because this place is bad fer him?” Vin looked confused at that.
Chris glanced over at Buck in surprise. Neither of them had really expected that. Buck shrugged his shoulders, settling down on JD’s bed for the show. Chris had put JD to bed as soon as they’d gotten home from the elementary school, guessing correctly that JD would be exhausted as soon as he calmed down, and probably sleep the evening away. Tomorrow morning he would be hungry and need a bath, but right now, he was snoring like a freight train, snuggled up under the covers, still dressed in everything but his shoes. Buck sighed, looking down at the mop of brown hair that was all he could see of his little boy. Tentatively, he rested a big hand on his son’s back, encouraged when, despite being so deeply asleep, JD gave a little wriggle backwards towards the comforting contact. Buck saw Chris’s eyes narrow speculatively at this before the blond turned back to face Vin.
“Well, let’s think about this,” he said. “Do you think this place is bad for JD?”
“No,” but there was more than a hint of doubt in the kid’s voice.
“Oh? What makes a place a bad place, maybe one you’d like to leave, if you could?”
Vin scowled. “A bad place is one where it hurts ya to be. Y’ cain’t find ‘nough to eat, and it’s cold all ‘a time. An’ the people there…”
Chris waited, and Buck could tell he was aching to ask Vin about the people in the bad places, aching to hold his son and make it all go away. But if Chris knew anything, it was how to stay on-target. So when it became obvious that Vin wasn’t going to say any more without more prompting, Chris tilted his head as if pondering deeply, and said, “Well, it is kinda cold out here nights…”
“But y’ keep us warm. Y’ give us blankets and warm clothes and stuff t’ wear.”
“Hmm, I suppose that’s so. But you guys are still skinny – maybe we aren’t giving you enough food? That could be a serious problem.”
“No, y’ feed us ‘nough. Y’ always get us more when we need it, an’ y’ never mind when we get snacks.”
“Well, maybe it’s us then. Maybe we’re hurting JD.”
Vin looked at him in consternation. “But y’ don’t hit us or anythin’! Y’ don’t… y’ give us hugs when we need ‘em, and band-aids and stuff, and when we get hurt, y’ call Uncle Nathan to look take care of us. Y’ don’t hurt us, y’ just shouldn’t touch JD when he’s curled up like that!”
Bingo, thought Buck. Now they were getting somewhere. It was directly counter to all his instincts not to hold and comfort a kid when they were having a meltdown, and Chris looked completely taken by surprise as well.
After giving Vin a moment to get himself back together, Chris asked gently, “Can you tell us why we shouldn’t touch him when he’s like that, Vin?”
Vin shook his head. “Y’ jist cain’t,” he said, looking lost and forlorn. He leaned back and closed his eyes and Buck knew he’d had enough and they weren’t going to get any more out of him tonight. “Y’ jist cain’t,” he repeated softly, almost to himself.
************************MAG7: ATF LB AU*******************
Continued in Part 3.
-bs
Prologue
JD hated black. It felt thick and oily, and he always got a picture of himself choking in liquid crud when he saw it. He had nightmares about it sometimes – surrounded by nothing but black, unable to escape the darkness churning around him. For a long time, JD hid from Mr. Chris whenever he saw him, praying that this strange thing that was so comfortable with black as to wear it against his skin – and wear it constantly - wouldn’t find him. He could never tell, after, if he was more afraid of Mr. Chris or his clothes.
JD wasn’t fond of green, either – it was all hard and spiky. This texture was fun to play with and feel sometimes, but eating green things wasn’t something he was all that comfortable with. Despite repeated exposure, he could never stop imagining his green vegetables tearing great strips out of his throat as they went down. For his Buck, though, he would choke them down, firmly reminding himself that nothing had happened the last time he’d eaten broccoli or peas or green beans, and so it was probable nothing would happen this time, either. That didn’t change the fact that they tasted bad in addition to the unappetizing green color.
On St Patrick’s Day, his Buck chose to wear a shirt the same green as dandelion leaves. JD had once heard a friend of his mother's refer to the color as 'hunter green', and it had made him wonder then if hunters had thorns, too. That reminded JD how much the color prickled against his skin - sharp points digging painfully into his flesh, and JD decided to forgo his morning hug from Buck. He couldn't imagine how Buck could handle the sharp prickly sensation, and it only served to make him an even braver hero in his eyes.
**************************MAG7: ATF LB********************************
Part 1
Vin heaved a strictly internal sigh when JD hid behind him, staring over his shoulder at the expanse of Mr. Buck’s green-covered chest. JD was usually happy to see Mr. Buck – as happy to see Mr. Buck as he was terrified of Mr. Chris. Vin didn’t know how to tell JD that Mr. Buck in a green shirt was the same as Mr. Buck in a bright red, purple, and orange Hawai’ian shirt, and he didn’t know how to explain to Mr. Buck or Mr. Chris why JD reacted that morning the way he did. He just knew it was going to be a very long day when JD slipped in close behind him, hand fisted in his shirt, eyes studiously examining the floor, abnormally silent.
It didn’t help that Mr. Buck often startled Vin himself with his loud voice, or that Vin often caught himself carefully watching lest the gregarious man’s excited gesturing turned into a swift cuff or stiff-armed shove. It never did, and Vin thought he might, might, be able to trust Mr. Buck a little more. But he still wrestled with the idea of trusting the adults in his vicinity at all, and so he waited, and watched, and worried.
***********************MAG7: ATF LB*************************
“Boys, wash up and get some breakfast!” Chris shouted up the stairs. Morning was always chaos, what with getting the boys ready for school, the horses, dogs, and barn cats fed, himself and Buck ready for work… The first few days of this had reminded Chris forcefully of the same routine rush he had practiced with Adam and Sarah. For once, Chris was glad of the memories, as they brought with them some of his previous organizational habits, knowledge of what was likely to go wrong, and how to minimize such things. Good thing, too, because Buck had been completely out of his depth.
Chris grinned, thinking of that first morning in January when he'd had to get the boys and Buck ready for school and work. Buck had gotten out of the habit of waking early, what with living in the downtown area close to the Federal building. He was so used to waking up after 6 and getting to work on time that he’d forgotten to set his alarm back. Chris had thrown a shoe at him to get him moving, and even then he didn’t really wake up until Chris sent JD in to bring him to the table. Buck had walked – or rather, limped, as he was trying to put on his boots – into the kitchen with a dazed expression, hair still wet from a quick shower, JD chattering a mile a minute, fingers sticky from pancake syrup playing with the chest hair that peaked out from under Buck's white undershirt.
Chris had been cleaning up the pancake griddle when Buck’s explosive “Shit!” had him whirling around – at which point he’d lost his battle to keep from laughing at his friend. Buck had finally gotten on his boots, only to realize he’d forgotten to put on his pants. Buck had improved a lot since then, but there were still days when getting him out of bed and moving was as much of a chore as getting their two little orphans to school.
Today, Buck was moving pretty quickly, albeit with a slight frown on his face.
“Buck?”
“JD-“ he started, then gestured to the doorway where the two little boys were hesitantly watching them.
Chris glanced at the boys and beckoned them in. “Come on, guys, hurry up.” It wasn’t unusual for JD to hide from him, although he hadn’t quite figured out why yet. He’d systematically softened and lowered his tone around JD, physically lowered himself to the child’s level, even tried candy and treats, but nothing really seemed to work. It was strange, however, that JD was currently practicing that same behavior with Buck, whom he adored. Now, as Chris watched, Vin whispered urgently to JD, trying to get him to come to the kitchen, while JD frantically shook his head and pulled backwards on Vin’s hand. Buck looked confused and lost and hurt, and Chris desperately wanted to make that look go away.
“Vin,” he said gently, “does JD have a tummy ache?” They’d quickly learned that Vin, as JD’s appointed protector, was the dispenser of information in situations like this. JD clammed up tight.
But Vin shook his head, and Chris’s heart ached to see fear skitter across the boy’s eyes.
“It’s ok if he’s sick, you know,” Buck added quietly.
“He’s not sick.”
“What about a nightmare? Did JD have a bad dream last night?” Chris pressed. Sometimes JD had dreams that resulted in him hiding from Chris more than usual.
“No.”
“Did we do something to scare him? You can tell us, and we’ll change it.”
“He’s fine. He’s not sick, he’s not scairt, he’s jist fine!”
Vin’s eyes had taken on a desperate cast now, and he was actually backing up one slow step at a time, JD hidden behind him. It was obvious they wouldn’t get anything more out of him at the moment. Vin was so desperate not to be any trouble, so desperate to make sure he and JD were the perfect little boys, that Chris sometimes wished he would leave a mess in the living room just so he knew there really was a little boy under that miniature adult. They’d have to wait to work on Vin’s and JD’s insecurities until later that night, however. They still had to get ready for school.
“Well,” said Chris, making a tactical retreat, “you two still have to eat, but it’s getting a little late now. How about I put some Cheerios in a bag for you to munch on on the bus?”
Vin nodded, relieved.
Chris turned back to the counter to make up the little snack packs and grabbed some extra single-serving milk bottles. He made sure their lunches were packed and handed them lunchboxes, JD’s red with the Power Rangers on it, and Vin’s a plain blue. Buck made sure that jackets, hats, and mittens were put on while Chris made one last circuit of the house to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. As they hurried out the door, Chris and Buck shared a frustrated look, silently agreeing they needed to talk to someone.
*******************MAG7: ATF LB**************************************
Everybody was wearing green at school that day, and the school itself was decorated with green shamrocks and little bearded men wearing green clothes. Vin thought the men were cute, but JD seemed to be a little nervous about them. Even so, he seemed to be handling it well, more quiet than usual, but not so clingy. Until lunch.
“Oh, no!” Vin groaned to himself. He had forgotten the lunch room was painted green – a light green that reminded him of the green foam Beau, Mr. Buck’s big grey horse, sometimes got on his face after eating a lot of grass. It was slimy and neat and kinda fun to watch Mr. Buck yell at Beau when the horse got his fur all green from the foam. JD had never liked the green on the walls, but usually he was okay with it. Today, he let out a sort of whimper and glommed back onto Vin as if he’d been glued there.
Vin led JD through the lunch line, glad that he only needed to get milk for them. The lunch ladies were serving green things to the kids who bought their meals at the school: green beans, cooked spinach, and green jello for dessert. That would have been impossible to get JD to eat. At the cash register, the lady gave Vin two wrapped packages of two cookies each – green, of course.
“I don’t have the money ta pay fer ‘em, ma’am,” he said politely, even though the sugar cookies looked really good, “jist the milk.”
“Vin, honey, I made them for all the kids, they’re free. I love to bake, and today just gave me an excuse to do it.”
Vin didn’t quite understand that, but took the cookies and JD over to an isolated corner of the room. He thought that he might be able to get JD to eat if he didn’t have to deal with the overwhelming noise of the crowded cafeteria as well as the overwhelming green on the walls. His hopes were in vain; JD barely picked at his food, and wouldn’t even look at the cookies. Vin shrugged. He’d eat the cookies now, and save some of his own lunch for JD for later that afternoon, when they were at home. That way, he wouldn’t be wasting food, and JD would still get his share to eat.
Things improved some after recess, but not by much. Things that were green were the discussion of the day. The last class of the day was art class, and Ms. Chalmers brought out sheets of green construction paper and copies of a little man’s face with large ears and a beard.
“We’re going to decorate leprechauns today,” the teacher said. Just the hour before, Ms. Chalmers had read a book about leprechauns and gold and rainbows to the class, so Vin knew now what those little men that had been put up all over the school were called. “So, I want you to take a pair of safety scissors, and each of you get three sheets of green paper, and I’ll show you how to cut out his body and his hat. Then, you can spend the rest of the day coloring and decorating him. I’ll have glue, glitter, and markers up here for when you’re done.”
Sometimes, the teacher would run out of the right-colored construction paper, and the kids would have to make do with a different color. Normally, Vin hated to be singled out like this, because it meant his art projects invited teasing from the meaner kids. Today, he dragged his feet hoping that the green paper would run out before he got there. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Sighing, he got supplies for himself and JD.
When he returned to their table, he frowned. JD had drawn his legs up and tucked his face in the little space created between chest and thighs. His arms were curled tightly around his legs, holding him together and as Vin watched, he began to rock ever so slightly. Vin quickly glanced around to make sure no one was looking before leaning over to JD and hissing in his ear.
“JD, you gotta stop rockin’! Ya’ kin keep your head down, but please, stop rockin’.” The repetitive movement stopped, and Vin sighed in relief. He could pass a quiet, withdrawn JD off as being a little tired, but he couldn’t explain the rocking. Adults seemed to be afraid of JD’s rocking, and they yelled at him for it. Vin had had to fend off the occasional thrown fist aimed at JD, too, but he hadn’t told anyone that, not even Nettie Wells.
Vin watched Ms. Chalmers carefully and saw how she was folding the paper to produce symmetric shapes. He quickly cut up his own construction paper and JD’s, then, guessing that she was going to do the hat and shoes the same way, cut two sets of those out also. He glued the pieces together, finishing the bodies of both leprechauns about the same time the other children had finished their single efforts. He trotted back up to the desk, getting some glue, glitter, a selection of red and brown-dyed cotton balls, and various other things to decorate the leprechauns.
As the afternoon progressed, he became so engrossed in his efforts that he forgot to watch out for the teacher. Thus it was that when Ms. Chalmers came around to see how they were doing, she saw one happy little boy working away, and one very withdrawn one refusing to touch his assignment at all.
**************************MAG7: ATF LB*******************************
Part 2
“Larabee,” Chris answered the phone absentmindedly, still thinking about the maze of reports he was trying to make his way through.
The voice on the other end made him sit up.
“Mr. Larabee?” It was Paul Kensington, the principal at the boys' school. “Mr. Larabee, we've tried to get in touch with Mr. Wilmington, but he doesn't seem to be available right now.”
Chris glanced automatically at Buck's seat in the bullpen. “No, he's in a mandatory training seminar this afternoon. What can I do for you?” What could have gone wrong that they wanted to contact Buck? Chris often got calls regarding Vin's adjustment problems, but this was the first time he could remember that they had wanted Buck, specifically.
“Ah, well. It's just that JD seems to be having a fit of some kind. We have him and Vin in my office now, but we'd like someone to come pick him up.”
“A fit? Like a seizure?” JD had never exhibited signs of epilepsy...
“No, he's curled up and keeps rocking, won't talk to anybody. It's almost Autistic in nature. Ms. Chalmers discovered him in this state this afternoon during art class, and when she tried to touch him, Vin hit her.” Kensington sighed. “I'm not sure what was going through his head, but that was not an appropriate response; we can't encourage it.”
Chris was stunned. Vin liked Ms. Chalmers – at least he spoke of her like he did. What could possibly have lead to him striking out at her? And what was this about JD? Autism? That didn't make any sense.
“The training session won't be over till close of business, Mr. Kensington, but I'll come over right away.”
Chris was on his feet and moving as soon as he put the phone down.
“Josiah,” he said as he walked through the bullpen on the way out, “that was the school; I need to pick up Vin and JD from the principal's office. I'm not sure if I'll be back tonight – oh damn! Buck caught a ride with me this morning!”
“Don't worry, Chris, between the three of us, we can get him back to the ranch this evening. Go find out what's wrong with the boys.”
Chris glanced around at Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah, and thought again how glad he was to have these men on his team and at his side. Without their support and compassion for the two little orphans Team 7 had discovered in a seedy warehouse on the south side of town last year, he and Buck would have had a much harder time fulfilling all the obligations that came with being full-time agents as well as parents.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said, not quite knowing how to express what it meant to him that they were so willing to re-arrange their own lives so that he and Buck could focus on Vin and JD so much.
He left to the sound of three voices mumbling that it was no problem at all.
*****************MAG7: ATF LB*********************************
By the time Chris had parked his black truck in the teacher's parking lot and walked through Dustin Elementary's hallways to the principal's office, he was prepared to give Ms. Chalmers a chewing out that would be legendary in the annals of the school's history. He had mentally gone through every scenario he could imagine, and nothing had really made sense except the possibility of Ms. Chalmers harassing JD for some reason. Although the boy was usually very outgoing, he still had days where he depended on Vin's ok to do anything, and if this morning was any indication, today was one such day. Chris hadn't quite figured out the pattern of when their little chatterbox would decide that the world was safe to explore, versus when it held dangers around every corner, but he did know that when the JD decided on the latter, nearly ignoring him in favor of Vin's responses was the way to go.
All of that went away when he walked into the principal's office and saw JD curled up in the corner in as small and tight a ball as possible, rocking hard enough to bang his head on the wall.
“JD?” he whispered, stunned. He hadn't quite believed the principal's description of JD's fit, had almost convinced himself that JD was just being stubbornly silent for some reason. But the clearly repetitive behavior before him turned all his assumptions on their head. He'd seen Vin do this before, when his son had needed both to hide and have an outlet for his feelings of frustration and fear. Was JD afraid? He just couldn't imagine JD being afraid of anything at the school.
“Ah, Mr. Larabee, thank you for coming so quickly.” Chris's head snapped around to see Kensington at the door of the inner office. Kensington was a small man, short and wiry, with gray hair and kindly, twinkling eyes in a face full of wrinkles. “Come on in – Marcia, can you keep an eye on JD for just a bit more? This shouldn't take long.”
Marcia, the school's secretary, bobbed her graying brown hair in a cheerful agreement.
Chris followed Kensington into his office, where he found Ms. Chalmers sitting in one of the tattered orange chairs before the principal's desk, and Vin standing beside her, concentrating very hard on tracing random patters on the plastic laminate. Chris frowned; he expected much more tension than this scene implied. Vin's body language didn't imply discomfort at all, and while Ms. Chalmers was obviously distressed, she didn't seem angry with Vin.
“Sit down, Mr. Larabee.”
Chris sat in the remaining chair and held out his hand to Vin. “Hey, Cowboy,” he said softly, “wanna come here?”
Vin moved to stand by him, but avoided his hand and only looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
Kensington took his own seat behind the desk. “Ms. Chalmers, why don't you begin?”
“Certainly, Mr. Kensington, Mr. Larabee. I didn't really notice anything until Art Class this afternoon. Vin and JD almost always pair up for art -” and here she smiled fondly at Vin, “- they work very well together. Usually, they both do their work without any problems. Today, I noticed that Vin had cut up the construction paper patterns for both their projects – he does that sometimes when JD gets ahead of himself and starts trying to decorate first.”
Chris felt his mouth twitch, JD was notorious at the ranch for trying to do the last of his chores first, somehow thinking that if he got the final chore on his list done, the others would automatically be finished as well.
“I really didn't think anything of it, until I was walking around the tables, checking on the students and found JD wasn't working on his project at all. In fact, he was curled up, much like he is now, like he's hiding from something. I asked him what was wrong, and he didn't answer. When I reached out to touch him, Vin here pushed me away and yelled at me to 'stay away from him!' I was surprised – Vin's quite the protector on the playground, but he's never acted like this towards an adult before.”
Chris looked glanced across the desk to see Kensington nodding, a puzzled frown on his face.
“Vin,” Chris asked gently, “Vin, is that true? Did you yell at Ms. Chalmers?”
Vin shrugged, fingers moving in a steady figure eight on Kensington's desk.
“Vin, can you tell me what happened? Why you were mad at the teacher?” But Vin only shook his head and stared at his feet.
“We haven't been able to get him to talk either,” Kensington said. “We've re-assured him that Ms. Chalmers is not mad, and that we just want to help, but he still won't say anything. JD's behavior is even more distressing.”
“Yes, you mentioned Autism? But that doesn't make sense. JD's very bright, but he's not a savant.”
“You're right, it doesn't make sense, but Autism is what this rocking most reminds me of. JD seems to be reacting to something in his environment – what, I can't say, obviously. But rocking like this is common in Autistics when they find certain elements in their surroundings overwhelming. Most people only see the most severe cases, so they don't realize this, but Autism is a spectrum disorder; perhaps JD is high-functioning. Several other learning disorders appear to be related to Autism, so it's also possible he has some other problem. But I think for all our sakes, we need to get him diagnosed so we know what we're dealing with.”
Chris nodded. It would mean more visits with Dr. Lowery, but at least Kensington wasn't intent on shoe-horning JD into ADHD. He remembered one of the visits he'd had with Adam's kindergarten teacher, who'd been absolutely certain his little boy had ADD, because he liked to run around and scream like, well, like a little boy should. Chris had been so mad he'd had to run 10 miles that evening to work through his anger. Sarah had been equally pissed off, which she dealt with by baking bread. Buck had arrived at the house to find an abundance of 7-grain loaves on the counter, and had taken three home with him just so they would have room for groceries that weekend.
“That’s really all there is to it, Mr. Larabee,” Kensington concluded. “We need to find out what the issue is with JD and why Vin reacted the way he did before we can deal with this appropriately. But I recommend you take both boys home now, especially as it’s near the end of the school day, anyway.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kensington, Ms. Chalmers, I’ll do that.” Chris stood up to go, shaking the principal’s and Ms. Chalmers’s hands. “Come on, Vin, let’s go get JD settled in the truck.”
They made a little parade as they exited the office: Chris first, feeling a little nervous; Vin obediently behind him, head down; Ms. Chalmers, hands still fluttering in worry; and Kensington, bringing up the rear. Chris paused for a moment, taking stock of JD. He was still in his corner, rocking, rocking, his head softly thumping against the wall. JD was squeezed into as tight a ball as possible, and Chris wondered just how much he was truly aware of. Slowly, he walked towards JD, crouching down in front of him. He took care to soften his voice when he spoke.
“JD? JD, buddy, it’s me, Chris. What do you say we get out of this place, hmm?”
JD ignored him.
“JD, it’s ok, buddy. Whatever scared you, I won’t let it hurt you. Come on over here so we can go home, ok?” He continued softly for a few minutes, knowing that at JD’s age, the soothing sound of his voice was more important than what he actually said. At last, JD stopped rocking, although he stayed tightly curled up. Chris figured that as long as JD wasn’t moving, he could just as well carry JD as he was, and they could worry about the car seat when they got to the truck.
“That’s it, buddy, we’ll make it through this, too,” he said as he reached for the little boy.
“Don’t touch him!”
The accompanying shove took him by complete surprise, and he wound up sprawled on his side, head knocking against one of the chair legs, staring up at an enraged Vin. His son was standing protectively between himself and JD, and looked ready to pummel the snot out of all comers. His first, irrelevant, thought was it was no wonder that Buck kidded him about Vin’s ‘baby glare’. He’d never been the recipient before, but he could well imagine his boy facing down the ravening hordes of school children on the playground. Yeah, and give it 15 years or so, and you’ll make an amazing SEAL, kid.
“Vin,” he said, metaphorically picking his jaw back up, “you know I wouldn’t hurt you or JD, right?” Vin glared. Ok, maybe not. “I won’t, Vin, I’d never hurt either of you. I just thought it might be easier to carry JD to the truck. That’s ok, isn’t it?”
He was acutely conscious of the ridiculousness of the situation: a man of his height, experience, and training asking a small, skinny child for permission to do something that would normally be found comforting. But the look in Vin’s eyes gave him no doubt as to just where he stood right now. Dr. Lowery had warned him that if Vin felt he or Buck was ever a threat to JD, Vin wouldn’t hesitate to defend his friend vigorously. Chris was sadly and uncomfortably aware that Vin had probably done things no child should ever be asked to do in his quest to protect and defend his friend.
A soft thumping noise interrupted his introspection. JD was rocking again, harder this time as he picked up the tension in the room. Vin shifted uneasily as Chris slowly climbed to his feet. JD’s rocking had given him an idea.
“Vin, look at JD,” Chris directed quietly, “we’ve upset him.”
Vin glanced behind him, and Chris took the opportunity to whip off his jacket, and reach over Vin’s head to gather JD up in the leather’s warmth. JD’s reaction now was no less surprising than Vin’s had been earlier: he let out loud, heart-breaking wails of utter terror, and struggled violently against Chris’s grip. Chris brought him in close, muttering reassurances that didn’t seem to help, automatically rocking his own body in an approximation of the half-remembered rhythm he used to rock Adam with.
Only when he was certain of his grip on the struggling child did he turn his attention to Vin, who was beating him with his tiny fists coming perilously close to his groin. A few more minutes and second’s thought on the boy’s part was all it would take to incapacitate him for a good quarter of an hour. Nor was Vin’s attack silent – he screamed at Chris to put JD down, to let him alone. The cacophony was unbelievable.
“VINCENT MICHEAL TANNER!” Chris thundered. Vin flinched violently away from him.
Chris mentally counted to ten before he spoke into the frozen silence. “Vin, I know you want to help JD, but this isn’t the way to do it. Vin, Vin look at me.” He waited until Vin fearfully raised his eyes to meet his own. “Vin, we’ll talk about your behavior later. We need to get JD home. That’s all that’s going to happen right now, ok?” Again he waited, and this time received a tiny nod. “Grab your backpacks, then.”
Chris pivoted, nodded his apologies to Ms. Chalmers, Kensington, and the secretary, all of whom stared at him with varying degrees of shock and worry, before leading Vin out the door.
As they neared the truck, JD started to whimper and shake. Chris frowned – just what on earth was going on here? He reached for the door, only to find Vin already opening it, and scrambling in to be in a position to help get JD into his booster seat.
“Here,” Vin said, handing back Chris’s jacket. “It’s cold out.”
“Thanks, cowboy, but I’m ok.” Chris gave Vin a tired smile, but Vin only copied his earlier frown and shoved the black leather jacket insistently at him. He tugged the pale blue and white quilt from between the booster seats and plopped it rather haphazardly over JD’s still-tense body.
“JD kin use the quilt, Mr Chris. Won’t be no trouble.”
Oh, Vin. “Vin, no matter what happens, I’m never going to make you leave. You and JD are here to stay with me and Buck as long as you want to, I promise.”
Vin eyed him critically before shrugging. He got into his own booster seat and did the buckles up, and ignored Chris as he got into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot. Both boys were silent the entire ride, and JD, uncharacteristically, didn’t move a muscle.
Two steps forward, one step back, Chris thought, concentrating on the road. Vin obviously knew something, but just as obviously, he was afraid to tell them what it was. Hopefully, Dr. Lowery would help them get to the bottom of this. Whatever 'this' was. Worry crouched like an ugly toad in the pit of his stomach, and Chris wondered how he was going to tell Buck something was seriously wrong with his son.
*******************MAG7: ATF LB AU***********
“I’m sure Mr. Larabee has the situation well in hand, Mr. Wilmington,” Ezra soothed for the twentieth time since Buck had rejoined them at the office. Chris had ended up taking the boys home, calling the office to fill the others in and to warn them that he was making an appointment with Dr. Lowery for Vin and JD as soon as possible. He hadn’t called back with the time before they’d closed down for the day, however, and to say Buck was fretting was putting it mildly. If he thought getting out and pushing the Jag would get them home any faster, Ezra had no doubt he would do it. Fortunately, they were at most 15 minutes from the ranch, barring an epic disaster.
“Chris scares JD a little, Ez,” Buck said anxiously, leaning forward in his seat as far as the seatbelt would allow.
“Surely Mr. Larabee understands his impression on the child, and will take pains to minimize it.”
“It’s just that…”
“ ‘It’s just that’ what, Mr. Wilmington? Surely you don’t think Mr. Larabee is offended by Master Dunne’s reaction to him?”
“No… no. Chris has done everything he can to make JD comfortable – we both have. We just have to wait him out, I suppose…” Buck trailed off, staring into at the lights reflected in the Jag’s window.
“Hmmm.” Waiting him out was a good strategy to use with Buck, too, Ezra thought. He was too worried about whatever was bothering him to hold it in for long.
Sure enough, just as they pulled into the long driveway to Chris’s ranch, he began again, the words tumbling out so fast that Ezra wondered if Buck was taking his cues from JD, instead of the other way around.
“It’s just that this morning, JD was afraid of me, too. He’s never been afraid of me before, but he didn’t want to get near me at all – not even for a hug!” Buck sounded more distressed about not getting to hug his son than anything else. “What if I did something wrong? What if he doesn’t want to stay with us? What if…”
“Mr. Wilmington… Buck… Buck!” Ezra brought the car to a smooth stop and turned himself around in his seat to face his friend. “Buck, that child loves you, of this there is absolutely no doubt in my mind.”
“So why didn’t he want to get near me today?” Buck turned pleading eyes on him that were almost as difficult to resist as his ward’s. But where JD might want an outing or a toy, Buck desperately needed reassurance that he was doing the right thing, and Ezra knew he needed to pick his words delicately.
Turning back around, Ezra sat and stared at the house for a moment. “Are you so sure JD was afraid of you?”
Buck looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Ezra, you didn’t see him this morning – “
“That’s not exactly what I mean, Mr. Wilmington. Your description of him this morning clearly indicated some sort of emotional upheaval.”
Buck frowned. “Then what are you getting at? Exactly.”
Ezra studied his nails in the moonlight, speaking slowly, as if taking time to pull his thoughts together. “What I mean, Buck, is that you were absolutely correct that JD has never exhibited fearful behavior towards you before.”
“So?”
Ezra sighed. “It doesn’t make sense for JD to have been afraid of you today, and not for the four months prior to this. Particularly since he still views Vin as his primary protector.” Ezra paused, a small smile on his face. “And you, sir, appear to be his favorite toy.”
Buck laughed, the soft chuckle signaling the release of tension. “Yeah, I do seem to work well as a jungle gym, don’t I? So the key could be why JD’s behavior changed today, of all days. Nothing comes to mind, though.”
“Nor would I hazard a guess without a few days of observation, at least,” Ezra said, “but I don’t doubt that between the three of you - you, Mr. Larabee, and Dr. Lowery - will uncover the source of the poor child’s problem. It’ll just take a little time, Mr. Wilmington.”
Buck’s silence stretched long moments before he finally nodded, “Thanks, Ez. You sure you don’t want to come in?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Wilmington. Unfortunately, I have to go over the files for the Jennings case this evening. I’m afraid we’ve been so busy juggling our other cases that the court date rather snuck up on me.”
Buck nodded. “Well, drive safely. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Wilmington.”
As Ezra drove back down the driveway towards the long highway, he spared one more glance in his rearview mirror at the tall, muscular man opening the door into the Larabee household. “And as much as you love that child, Buck, I have no doubt that ‘a little time’ will be all that is necessary,” he murmured.
************MAG7: ATF LB AU***********************************
“Here,” Chris shoved a cold bottle of Bud into his hands as soon as Buck walked in the door. He looked tired, Buck thought, his forehead furrowed in abstract concentration. “Tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred,” he continued.
“Thanks… He’s not the enemy you know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“JD… he’s not the enemy… and whatever he’s fighting, whatever he’s going through, you can’t shoot it, or toss a grenade at it…”
Chris glared at him. “I know, dammit!”
“Mm-hmmm….” Buck sidled over to the phone in the kitchen, and sure enough, there was the note in Chris’s dayrunner, penned in black ink and block letters: BRF 0800 Dr. L: OP EXTRACT JD DUNNE.
“Then you want to explain why you’re planning a mission brief? And to ‘extract JD’? Extract JD? How are we gonna do that, commandeer a Huey?”
Knowing Chris as he did, he wasn’t surprised; Chris’s highly organized and precise approach to even the simplest of mission operations when they were in the Teams, and later, the ATF, had served him well. It had become such a habit that even now, Buck teased Chris about the detailed operations plans he put together to go shopping for groceries, buy presents for Valentine's or Christmas, and camping trips headed by Chris started to take on a concerted military feel if he wasn’t pulled up short from time to time. Then there was the memorable occasion when he tried to organize Sarah’s pregnancy and delivery on a schedule of precise timing. Neither Sarah nor Buck had bought it, intuitively recognizing Chris’s reaction as not-so-well hidden panic at the thought of becoming a father. Buck could see the same reaction now, with Chris desperately clutching at what he did so very well in an attempt to deal with the terrifying unknown.
So Buck watched as Chris responded to his gentle needling by collapsing onto a kitchen chair with a loud thump and running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know, but what am I supposed to do?”
“I kin take care of him.” The quiet whisper came from Vin, who had managed to sneak up on both of them, and was now shyly standing in the doorway, not quite able to look at either of them. “Won’t be no more trouble, jus’ please…”
Watching Chris go from frustrated team captain to gentle, loving father was nothing short of amazing.
“Please what, Vin? What do you need us to do?” Chris asked in a gentle tone devoid of all previous tension. He consciously relax tense muscles, opening his legs and leaning forward to project trust and openness. There was no sign at all of the hard warrior ready to do battle just a few minutes before.
“Don’t send him away! He don’t mean ta be bad!” With that, Vin turned and fled down the hall, obviously terrified he was going to be punished for his outburst.
“What the - ? Oh, crap, he must have heard us!” Chris headed after Vin, Buck trailing behind.
“Vin?” Chris pushed open the door to boys’ bedroom to find that Vin had hidden between the wall and the dresser. It was his safe place, too small for the adults to enter, but surrounded sturdy, protective walls. Chris hated it, hated that Vin hiding there meant he didn’t trust anyone else to protect him, and he hated it especially now since he was apparently the one who’d sent his son scurrying for cover. Tears ran silently down the child’s face in a steady stream, soaking his pajama sleeves.
“Vin, son, why do you think we’re planning to send JD away?”
“Because Buck said you wanted to ‘stract him and Uncle Ezra said last month he had to get one a’ his teeth ‘stracted and when I asked him what he meant he said he was gettin’ rid of it!”
Buck bit his lip to stop an unwanted snicker. Stressful though the situation was, he couldn’t wait for Chris to get himself out of this one.
“Vin, I… Ezra meant….”
“Yes, Chris, tell us what you meant by ‘extracting JD’,” Buck said, not above a little teasing to lighten the situation.
Chris tossed a half-hearted glare in his direction and huffed out a breath. “Vin, to extract something means to remove it, not get rid of it.”
Vin frowned suspiciously. “Uncle Ezra don’ lie t’ us,” he said, wiping his eyes.
“No, he doesn’t. When you remove a tooth, it’s because there’s something wrong with the tooth, and it has to come out, and yes, people usually get rid of the tooth. But when you remove someone from a place, you do it because the situation is bad, not the person.” That wasn’t always true, but it would do for now.
“So yer sayin’ that JD needs ta’ go because this place is bad fer him?” Vin looked confused at that.
Chris glanced over at Buck in surprise. Neither of them had really expected that. Buck shrugged his shoulders, settling down on JD’s bed for the show. Chris had put JD to bed as soon as they’d gotten home from the elementary school, guessing correctly that JD would be exhausted as soon as he calmed down, and probably sleep the evening away. Tomorrow morning he would be hungry and need a bath, but right now, he was snoring like a freight train, snuggled up under the covers, still dressed in everything but his shoes. Buck sighed, looking down at the mop of brown hair that was all he could see of his little boy. Tentatively, he rested a big hand on his son’s back, encouraged when, despite being so deeply asleep, JD gave a little wriggle backwards towards the comforting contact. Buck saw Chris’s eyes narrow speculatively at this before the blond turned back to face Vin.
“Well, let’s think about this,” he said. “Do you think this place is bad for JD?”
“No,” but there was more than a hint of doubt in the kid’s voice.
“Oh? What makes a place a bad place, maybe one you’d like to leave, if you could?”
Vin scowled. “A bad place is one where it hurts ya to be. Y’ cain’t find ‘nough to eat, and it’s cold all ‘a time. An’ the people there…”
Chris waited, and Buck could tell he was aching to ask Vin about the people in the bad places, aching to hold his son and make it all go away. But if Chris knew anything, it was how to stay on-target. So when it became obvious that Vin wasn’t going to say any more without more prompting, Chris tilted his head as if pondering deeply, and said, “Well, it is kinda cold out here nights…”
“But y’ keep us warm. Y’ give us blankets and warm clothes and stuff t’ wear.”
“Hmm, I suppose that’s so. But you guys are still skinny – maybe we aren’t giving you enough food? That could be a serious problem.”
“No, y’ feed us ‘nough. Y’ always get us more when we need it, an’ y’ never mind when we get snacks.”
“Well, maybe it’s us then. Maybe we’re hurting JD.”
Vin looked at him in consternation. “But y’ don’t hit us or anythin’! Y’ don’t… y’ give us hugs when we need ‘em, and band-aids and stuff, and when we get hurt, y’ call Uncle Nathan to look take care of us. Y’ don’t hurt us, y’ just shouldn’t touch JD when he’s curled up like that!”
Bingo, thought Buck. Now they were getting somewhere. It was directly counter to all his instincts not to hold and comfort a kid when they were having a meltdown, and Chris looked completely taken by surprise as well.
After giving Vin a moment to get himself back together, Chris asked gently, “Can you tell us why we shouldn’t touch him when he’s like that, Vin?”
Vin shook his head. “Y’ jist cain’t,” he said, looking lost and forlorn. He leaned back and closed his eyes and Buck knew he’d had enough and they weren’t going to get any more out of him tonight. “Y’ jist cain’t,” he repeated softly, almost to himself.
************************MAG7: ATF LB AU*******************
Continued in Part 3.
-bs
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Date: 2010-05-02 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 02:08 am (UTC)-bs