Warning: DEATHFIC, Suicide. If that topic disturbs you please do not read.
Otherwise: triple hanky warning

Author’s note: I’m no native speaker. Should you find any mistakes it’s probably due to that. I know that this is a little out of character, but I dreamt of it and it wouldn’t go away until I wrote it down.
The lyrics of “All the time in the world” are by Beth Nielsen Chapman (who else, it’s one of my stories after all) and Bill Lloyd.

Feedback: Appreciated. Please send to lara_bee@lycos.com

*****

All the time in the world
Climbs the walls, swells the doors
It goes flying out the window
All the time in the world …
These precious days we live through
Thrown away like tissue
I wish that I could give you all the time in the world
 
 

It was a cold and starry night in the woods out of Denver. He had to admit he enjoyed the view of the clear sky. He had been here with Ezra more than once last summer. They had been sitting under the same tree then and Ezra had told him the names of the various stars and the formations. That one was called Orion; and there, wasn’t that Cassiopeia? That one that was formed like a big “W”?

He had chosen this day carefully. It was the 10th of December, the day of their first anniversary. One year with his lover, one year with Ezra. But Ezra hadn’t been able to spend this special day with him, he had been sent on an undercover assignment.

Vin Tanner sighed and took another deep swallow from the bottle. That, and the medication were slowly taking the pain away. At least the physical pain; it couldn’t erase the pain from his heart.

Vin blinked twice when his vision became blurry for a second. He hated being sick … Nathan could tell lots of stories about it. But this wasn’t just a little cold, nothing like “take two aspirin and call me in the morning”. This was more.

There, hadn’t that just been a shooting star?

They say when one sees a shooting star one can make a wish.

What would ya wish for, Tanner? Do ya have any wishes left? Maybe the most essential thing, pure and simple? To live. To see another day, another week. To have time to say all the things ya haven’t said yet … to give what ya haven’t given yet … to feel what ya haven’t felt  …

He hadn’t told his friends, not even Chris. Hell, not even Ezra, and he and Ezra were lovers. Vin had been one happy man for a year now when two months ago the headache had started and his vision had become disturbed once on a while …

I’m so sorry … I hope ya’ll understand … why I wasn’t able to tell ya … wrote it down for ya

Vin remembered Buck teasing him about getting old, needing glasses now. He had laughed about it, but he remembered the feeling that had grown deep inside his stomach then: an icy grip of fear, just like a premonition. He had seen a doctor after two weeks of splitting headache. The doc had listened to him carefully and suggested neurological exam  and CT instantaneously.

And they had found it. Big and ugly, “malign “ was the word the doctor had used. And it had grown directly at the brain stem. Vin remembered the sorry look the doctor had worn on his face when he had told him. No surgery possible, not with that kind of tumor. The only thing that could help would be chemotherapy and the doc had suggested to start it immediately. Vin had clenched his jaw and decided to fight. He had had a long talk with AD Travis and asked him not to tell anyone. Then he had taken sick leave. Vin had managed somehow not to show to the others how he felt, especially after the therapy when he had come home and spent the entire day in the bathroom vomiting. Of course his friends were worried; Vin had looked like the walking dead sometimes. Thank goodness he had kept his hair…
Josiah had asked if he could be of help somehow, Nathan had looked at him scrutinizing, Chris had asked him “If there’s something wrong you would tell me, wouldn’t you, pard?” Vin had just laughed and answered, “Jest wanted a little time off, spend it somewhere different, if ya understand …” and twinkled at his friend. Chris had nodded at this and let the matter rest, but Vin knew that he hadn’t been completely satisfied with his answer.

After a few weeks the doctor had looked at him and told him that he was very sorry but the therapy didn’t work, the tumor hadn’t stopped growing, on the contrary.
There had been nothing more they could have done.

Vin had gone home and shattered the bathroom mirror in an outburst of rage and despair. Then he had broken down on the floor.

After that Vin had spent as much of it with Ezra as possible.
He had let Ezra take him to some art exhibitions, Musicals, even to the opera once. “Madame Butterfly” it had been. Vin had enjoyed every little second. Sometimes Ez had looked at him with a frown and asked if everything was all right. He must have sensed that Vin’s personality had changed, that his lover had been in a deep dark mood once in a while. Vin had just embraced his lover and nodded. He had never been one for physical contact but he had looked out for it as much as possible the past weeks. It was as if he could cling to life itself through it. He had felt the deep need to touch Ezra, to hold him, to feel the steady heartbeat of his lover, to see those green eyes sparkle or hear the soft southern drawl when Ezra was reading poetry to him. At night he had watched Ezra sleep, had listened to his breath, had held him tight when Ezra was dreaming, had tried to comfort him should the dream turn into a nightmare.

Vin sighed, feeling sorry for his lover, knowing that this could cause some more of the unpleasant nightly visions. And that nobody would be there to comfort him.

A single tear tickled on Vin’s cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it away.

He had had enough time to get everything right. He had even written down his last will and testament. Not that there were many things to bequeath, oh no. But he wanted to make sure that a few things would go into the right hands. He wanted Ezra to have all the poems he had written over the years and never shown anybody, for example.

Sorry for givin’ up … I don’t wanna leave ya … but I don’t wanna let ya watch me die either … not like this …

The bottle was empty now, and Vin could feel the double effect both alcohol and pills had on him. He was getting very tired now. He didn’t feel the cold anymore.  The pain was just a mere memory in the back of his mind, at least the physical pain. His heart ached like it was broken. Which wasn’t too far away from the truth.

Vin let his hand slide into his pocket and slowly put out the object he had been hiding there for several days. It almost slid out of his now numb fingers. Carefully he positioned it at his left arm.  The former sharpshooter looked into the sky again, took in the beauty of the night, the crisp of the cold air. He inhaled deeply and plunged the needle deep into the flesh. He closed his eyes as the morphine was running into his veins. He wanted to sleep, to rest, to leave the pain and ache behind. He smiled at the image that was forming in his mind, an image of a warm smile, green flashing eyes, a tender loving touch … Ezra …
 
Good bye, love  … please forgive me … I wish I could give ya all the time in the world …
 

~ Fini ~