Forgiveness
by Pic
Rated: T gen
Spoilers: Major for Vertical Limit
Summary: These are some of the reflections of a dying man and a conversation we didn't see in the film.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Author's Notes: I had no time to write this, but it wouldn't let me go. I guess this is my way of working through my personal angst re Vertical Limit.
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He could see them all so clearly even though he knew that they weren't there. Even though he knew they were all buried beneath the avalanche that had tumbled him, battered and broken, into this crevasse. Tom MacLaren saw the men that had been part of his team as they worked together to take K2. But now they were all staring at MacLaren with the same accusation in their eyes that Vaughn had hurled at him.
"You were the leader. This is your fault."
Did the rich fuck think he didn't know that? No, Vaughn wasn't that stupid. Elliott had said it to cut into Annie's sympathy for him. Tom believed that Vaughn didn't recognize her basic human compassion for what it was, because it had been so long since the Texan had felt any.
Annie's eyes were on him now; Tom could feel them but he didn't have the strength to meet them. She was sick, too, yet she had risked everything to get the pack Vaughn had found. Tom had to admit that the defiant look she'd tossed at Elliott when she administered some of the dex she'd procured to him had lifted his spirits. But that hadn't lasted long.
They'd come back, the accusing images, and they brought others with them. MacLaren could sometimes see the families and friends of those who'd joined them on this expedition in the background, grieving and needing someone to blame for what had happened. They didn't have to look far to find him and he was sure he couldn't escape them even if he had the will to try.
Whether his eyes were open or closed, whether he was coughing up blood or panting in an effort not to, whether he was trying to rest or to communicate with the others, none of it mattered. They were there and they wanted his life. MacLaren couldn't blame them and it was growing more and more difficult to deny them their due. And he'd give it, gladly, if it would make any real difference. That it wouldn't, added to the frustration that threatened to escalate into a pathetically impotent rage.
"Stop it."
Annie's words were razor sharp in the cold air and whipped his head toward her despite the pain the rapid movement caused in his chest. He was too taken aback by the fierce expression on her face to even cough. Sensing that he'd lost his only ally, Tom struggled to whisper, "What?"
"Blaming yourself. Don't waste the time that way."
She didn't know. She couldn't understand. Yet, somehow she looked as though she was speaking from experience. Doing his best to communicate without having to speak, he asked for clarification with questioning eyes.
"My brother has perfected the art of self-recrimination. I can't imagine how much of the last few years he's wasted because of that." Annie paused, coughed and sniffed, before adding, "Because of me."
"Ya you?" Tom managed, chest heaving as he more or less managed to stop another coughing fit.
"I blamed him like Elliott tried to blame you. I pushed Peter into the depths of his soul; there's no need for you to go there."
Tom lowered his eyes as the pain of guilt washed over him again, settling unerringly in his chest and legs. Annie's strong fingers grasped MacLaren's chin firmly but they were exceedingly gentle as she turned his head back toward her.
"If we make it out of here, you'll have years to beat yourself up, Tom. If we don't, what's the point?"
"But I could have "
Annie waited out the wracking coughs that interrupted MacLaren's effort to refute her argument, but she gave the guide no opportunity to continue. "You could have saved yourself, maybe, but that's all. Don't let your guilt or Elliott's goading fool you into thinking anything else."
A finger across dry lips forestalled the protest Annie knew was coming, so she kept it there as she peered into green eyes that held more pain than she'd ever seen in anyone's other than Peter's whenever he tried to talk to her about what had happened to their father in Utah.
"This is what would've happened," she asserted, not entirely in an effort to banish her own memories. "Tom MacLaren calls the group together and states that he's gotten some weather information that doesn't look good, if it hits."
"I I might've "
Smiling slightly, she'd tapped her finger on his lips to remind him that he was supposed to be listening. When he obediently fell silent, she continued, "You wouldn't have lied to them; you'd have told them. It's bad, if it hits. Then Elliott would have berated you for being a lightweight coward who was lucky enough to have gotten amazing weather on Everest twice."
"But --."
"I know that isn't true but that wouldn't matter to Elliott. And that small lie wouldn't persuade the others to see things your way when he questioned their manhood or offered them double what you'd promised them."
"A few of them " This time, Tom trailed off without Annie's or his body's insistence. Would any of them have gone with him?
"If none of them went with you, could you have left?"
Tom shrugged and looked in the direction of Vaughn's muted cursing about something unspecified.
"I've never climbed with you but don't kid yourself that I took Elliott's word for it, or your reputation at face value. I checked you out. I talked to Matt Davenpart and Chuck Rollins. And I spent three hours on a satellite phone with Amanda Simpkins. What do you think I heard?"
Those three names felt like knives entering MacLaren's gut. He'd do anything for any of them, and the knowledge that he could no longer do anything for anyone ate at him. The desire to avoid more pain couldn't keep him from asking, "You talked to Mandy?"
"At length."
"She still ," a harsh single cough echoed in the crevasse. "She still mad?"
"Didn't sound like it. She gave you a glowing recommendation, both as a guide and as a man."
Tom's chuckle became a bout of coughing and wheezing that shook his damaged chest far too much. In contrast to times previous, he didn't resist Annie's efforts to support him. He was too weak to move away.
"She said you were a great climber and a straight shooter. Too much so for your own good sometimes. So, I'm sorry, Tom, but I can't believe that you'd have overplayed the weather card, even if you thought that would convince some people. I also don't think that you would've abandoned a team that decided to go on, or could've lived with yourself if you had, as things turned out."
His confusion must've shown in his eyes, because Annie looked at him for a long moment and resumed. "Being part way down when the storm hit, and hearing the avalanche and the frantic calls from base camp would've torn you apart."
MacLaren thought about what she'd said. The picture she painted was certainly plausible, but there was no way to know for sure. He hadn't tried. He simply had not tried. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him and a new batch of guilt descended. "Maybe not the rest, but I might have been able to save you." Frowning in Vaughn's direction, he muttered, "And him."
Annie shook her head. "The storm was still raging; you'd have continued down. Turning around to come back alone to try and find a needle in a haystack wouldn't have made sense."
Stubbornly, he said, "I would've tried."
"I know," she quietly replied. "I got that message from everyone I talked to about you."
Her voice had changed and Tom saw the tears in her eyes when he looked to see what was wrong. "Don't do that," he pleaded as he felt his own eyes matching hers in the salt water department. The last thing he needed was for Elliott Vaughn to see him cry.
Annie had seen a myriad of emotions cross over Tom's face before he'd looked away again. Sensing he needed to let them loose, she gently turned his head and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. His decision to move his own head threw off her aim and she ended up kissing him on the mouth, surprising them both. When she pulled back, he was blinking furiously but he couldn't manage to stop a few tears from leaking down his cheeks.
Wiping her own face, she whispered, "It's ok. Let it out."
A vigorous shake of his head was his only response until they both heard the sound of Elliott Vaughn's approach. Tom's eyes were desperate now, darting back and forth, as he tried to push himself back into the shadow cast by the wall of the crevasse.
Annie murmured, "Ssshhh," as she leaned over and removed the tears from his face with her thumb. "He doesn't need to know," she whispered against his mouth before gently kissing him again.
"And I thought you were a smart woman, Annie. Getting attached to the good-looking guide, however touching, isn't exactly prudent under the circumstances, is it?"
Seeing Tom's understanding that she had captured Elliott's attention on purpose, Annie winked at him before facing Vaughn. "It's better than feeling nothing at all, Elliott."
"Waste of time and energy, Annie."
"Le leave her alone."
"Ah, the wounded hero still has some life in him. It'd make a nice story, kids. Too bad there's no one around to write it."
Annie and Tom both watched Vaughn stalk away, but neither felt sorry (or much of anything else) when the billionaire's chuckle turned into a cough.
Squeezing his shoulder, Annie got Tom's attention. "I'm going to try and get some rest," she informed him. "You should too. And you should remember what I said. Ok?"
"Ok."
"And another thing ," Annie began tentatively, biting her lip. "This is going to sound awful, Tom, but "
MacLaren was puzzled; Annie was looking at him as though wanting permission to speak. Unhesitatingly, he gave it. "Go on."
"I I'm glad that you're here." Seeing the startled look in those expressive eyes, she rushed ahead. "I don't want to be alone with him. Hold on, Tom. Please hold on."
Exactly what he'd been looking for - a reason to keep up the effort to inhale and exhale. Still, it didn't look like Annie was anything other than completely, non-manipulatively serious. After all that she'd done for him, Tom felt he owed it to her to play this one straight. "I'll try, Annie. I'll do my best."
"Thank you, Tom."
Tom watched Annie retreat to her own sleeping bag with a lightened load. He tried his best to respond to her "goodnight" smile in kind and thought that he did fine. He knew that she hadn't absolved him of the blame that he bore for this disaster; no one in this crevasse could do that. But she had forgiven him for the part he'd played in placing her life in danger. In a very personal and meaningful way, that was enough.
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As he lost his battle with Vaughn and a syringe full of air, Tom's last thoughts weren't of himself, the other men who died or how much he wished Elliott would follow them all to hell. They were a near reiteration of something he'd said earlier, but this time they came from his heart and the very depths of his soul.
Thank you, Annie. And thank your brother for trying.
The End
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