Chris glanced up as two rapid knocks sounded on his closed office door. "Come in!"

Josiah's head appeared, and Chris waved him in.

"Everyone gone?" he asked, and Josiah nodded. "Thanks for waiting, Josiah."

"I assume this conversation is to be confidential?"

"For the moment, yes."

"Is that why you wanted me to wait until the rest of the guys had left?"

Chris nodded.

"Would I also be right in assuming it's about Ezra?"

Chris nodded again, motioning for Josiah to sit down.

"I'm not sure I can be of much help," Josiah said, sitting down heavily in the leather chair opposite Chris.

"I'd be grateful for anything you have Josiah - any insight or opinions, anything that might help."

Josiah looked thoughtful, considering his words carefully. "It's early days yet, Chris. It's only been a few weeks."

"I know that. I just want to make sure that we're doing everything we should be - everything we can, to help him."

Josiah tapped his moustache with one finger, an unconscious action that always indicated he was thinking. "Physically, he's doing well, but I daresay you've had access to the medical reports…"

"Docs say there's no lasting damage to any internal organs. His eye is fine, and there won't be any need for any facial surgery. His arm is healing well, and any scars will be minimal. It's not that I'm worried about, Josiah, it's… him. Ezra. There's something, I don't know, something different about him."

"An experience like that is bound to have a profound effect on anyone, Chris."

"That's partly my point. Apart from his wrist, and a few fading bruises, he seems just like his old self. And that's not what I expected. It just…" Chris shrugged.

"You think he's doing a little too well, is that it?"

"Yep. Every time I see him, he's pestering me to put him back on full duty. He's as full of crap as he always was, and throwing those fifty dollars words around like they're going out of fashion - just as I'd expect him to. It's almost like he wants us to believe that nothing happened. It just seems - phoney."

Josiah pondered for a moment. "People deal with trauma in different ways, Chris. Ezra's always been self-contained - he finds it very hard to communicate anything he perceives, however inaccurately, as failure."

"Failure? He didn't fail for God's sake! We got them - all of them! How on earth could he think that was a failure? We recovered the illegal explosives, got Tang and his goons on a list of charges a mile long, and even got Mai Lin on her way back to her family. It was a great bust, and it was down to him."

Josiah smiled. "At one level, he knows that. But at another, deeper level, he feels humiliated. He was captured and he 'talked'. He feels that he let the side down. That he failed. He needs to come to terms with that, and he won't appreciate receiving any 'special treatment' to help him deal with it. He's fiercely independent and anything you do to try and support him could easily transpose itself in his mind into pity or acknowledgement of his own belief that he let us down."

"He seems brittle, Josiah. And I'm getting worried that the veneer might crack, or even shatter."

Josiah shrugged. "I've tried a couple of times to talk to him - nothing official, just friends talking, but he's either too smart to fall for it, or in too much mental anguish to face it. All I got was one of those patented Standish smiles and a verbal onslaught that basically translates into the brush-off." Josiah almost smiled.

"So what do we do?"

"We wait."

"For him to crack?"

"No - not exactly. We wait for him to deal with it in his own way. He might be better left to rationalise it out for himself, or he might choose to talk to someone - maybe one of us, maybe not. Whatever he decides, it has to be his choice, Chris."

"I just don't want him to fall."

"One of us will be there to catch him if he does."

Chris stared down at his hands. "We weren't the last time, were we? He ended up in a filthy basement fighting for his life on his own."

"Perhaps I'm wrong here. Perhaps it's you who thinks we've failed."

Chris grinned wryly. "Talking with you is like dancing with a rattlesnake - you have to watch every step."

Josiah nodded sagely at the compliment. "We were all disturbed by what happened to Ezra and it's affected all of us. But he's a strong man, Chris. These things have a way of sorting themselves out. One way or another, I'm sure Ezra will communicate with someone, at some stage - and that will be when he really starts to heal."

"I hope to God you're right, Josiah."

"I hope so, too."

7~7~7~7~7~7~7

Buck stood by the window in his kitchen, watching the rain slithering down the glass and bouncing off the sill outside, and sighed deeply. The phone he held to his ear had just switched into to message saving mode for the seventh or eighth time - he had lost count. He punched the 'off' button, then positioned his finger over 'redial'. He sighed again, then changed his mind, and flung the cell phone, with more force than was necessary, back down on to the counter.

"Dammit Ezra," he said to the empty room, "why won't you talk to me?"

He raked a hand through his hair, then retrieved the phone. This time his finger made contact with the redial button. The phone rang, then switched to message. Buck swallowed a groan. "Ezra?" he said, in the brightest voice he could muster, "where are you, Slick? I was just getting a lasagne ready for the oven and I thought you might like to share it. Think you could drag your sorry ass over here? Or I could bring it to you, if you'd rather? Give me a call when you get this message, willya? If I eat all this myself, I run the risk of spoilin' my irresistible bod, and that would be a sin, now wouldn't it? Call me!"

Buck was almost certain that Ezra wouldn't call him. He seemed to have been consciously avoiding Buck for weeks. Almost since he'd been released from hospital. Oh, he seemed alright on the surface - witty, sharp, full of Ezra's usual bullshit, but Buck knew better. Something wasn't right. And Buck had a horrible feeling that it might be his fault.

He leaned against the wall, looking out of the window and up into the heavy grey sky that was still trying to flood Denver with pelting, cold rain. Awful damn weather. Looked like he felt. Gloomy, miserable and grey. No-one had been more relieved than Buck when Ezra had begun to recover, and Buck wasn't stupid, he knew the physical scars would heal a lot faster than the psychological ones, but something was wrong. Oh, Ezra was getting better physically, there was no doubt about that - his body was healing well, and, on the surface at least, he seemed to be making a remarkable recovery. But something was… missing.

It was as if they only had half of Ezra back with them. The smile was still there, the quick retorts, the sharp wit, but Buck was certain they were just a mask. What he didn't know was what the mask was hiding. Ezra had always been skilled at hiding his feelings, but this was more than that. It was as if he was only half there. The shell was mending, but the personality it held seemed as if it had gone.

Buck still didn't know exactly what had happened in that cellar, only that it had been bad enough to damage the soul of someone he had come to care about more than he would have believed possible.

In the midst of all the emotional turmoil in those first few days, when it looked as if they might lose Ezra entirely, Buck had been so scared, so damn terrified, he had allowed some of what he felt for Ezra to show. And Ezra was nothing if not quick on the uptake. He must have seen it, sensed it, realised. As if he needed that to try and cope with, on top of everything else. Buck had tried hard to cover it, to make out it was just his infamous 'mother-hen' complex, but those green eyes and that sharp intellect must have seen through that more quickly than Buck could hide it.

So, on top of physical injury and mental torture that Buck couldn't even begin to contemplate, Buck had added something else to the mix - unrequited desire.

"Great," he said to the rain, "just great! Make it easy for him why don't you? No wonder he's giving you a wide berth." He banged his forehead on the glass in a futile gesture of frustration. "Jackass!"

His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch, and he sighed. Perhaps a large helping of lasagne would take his mind off his failings - though he doubted it.

Buck didn't usually drink alone, except maybe a beer in front of the tv in the evenings, but a combination of the weather and his sour mood tempted him into opening a bottle of decent red wine. He popped the cork and stood the open bottle on the counter, mentally debating how many glasses would be enough to help him sleep without a headache the next morning.

A shower had lifted his spirits a little, and the cooking food had filled the kitchen with a mouth-watering aroma and steamed up the windows. He couldn't actually see the rain anymore - the condensation and the darkness had solved that little problem, but he could still hear it, a steady, drumming tattoo on the windows. God-awful weather. Enough to make anyone miserable. He reached into the fridge for a bag of green salad, suddenly realising that Nathan's constant nagging about fresh food must have registered subliminally, somewhere in his brain, otherwise why had he bought it?

Did you need to wash this stuff? he wondered, holding the bag up to see if any instructions were included on the packaging.

Then the doorbell rang.

Buck frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. If Chris or one of the guys had wanted him, they would have called first, and his cell phone was still switched on.

Only one way to find out. He walked down the hallway and opened the door.

Ezra stood on the doorstep - soaked to the skin. He was only wearing a lightweight work suit, no overcoat or hat, and no umbrella. He looked like he'd taken a shower with his clothes on. The strapping he still wore on his left wrist shone bright white in the porch light, but everything else about him looked as if it were shrouded in shadows.

Momentarily stunned, Buck thought fast. "So, you decided to come for dinner, eh, Slick? Come on in!" He hoped he didn't sound as false as he felt.

Ezra stepped into the hallway, rivulets of water dripping steadily from his soaked clothing. "I hope you don't mind me calling unannounced," he said quietly.

Buck shook his head. "Of course not! You're always welcome, you know that." He looked Ezra up and down, "but you are kinda wet there, buddy. Let me see if I can find you something dry to wear, otherwise you're gonna end up with pneumonia, and Nate will be all over me like a rash."

"My apologies for my appearance. The weather was worse than I anticipated."

Buck shook his head. "Couldn't matter less. I'll find you a towel and some dry clothes…"

Ezra trotted obediently behind Buck to the bathroom, where Buck found some dry towels. "Get outta those wet clothes Ezra, and a hot shower wouldn't hurt you any, if you feel like it."

Ferreting through his closet trying to find something for Ezra to wear, Buck's mind was racing. What was Ezra doing here? Had he got Buck's message about dinner? Unlikely, as he hadn't mentioned it. Buck made a mental note to play it very carefully by ear. If Ezra had come here of his own accord, then Buck wasn't going to waste the opportunity to talk to him, even if, at this moment, he hadn't any idea of what he was going to say.

Hearing the shower running, Buck left the dry clothing outside the bathroom door and headed back to the kitchen. Buck was mystified as to why Ezra had been walking. He had obviously been out in the appalling weather for some time before knocking on Buck's door, his saturated clothing bore witness to that, but why?

Finding another wine glass, plate and cutlery, he decided to wait and see if Ezra volunteered any information as to what had brought him here.

Buck was lifting the steaming dish from the oven when he heard a soft noise from the doorway.

Ezra stood just inside the door, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants that were easily a foot too long and bunched around his ankles, and a white cable-knit sweater that Buck had forgotten he owned and had never worn, as the arms were nowhere near long enough for him.

Buck took one look at the figure in the too-big clothes and with the still-wet hair, and thought he had never seen anything more attractive in his entire life. He almost dropped the dish as his heart leapt in his ribs.

Forcing himself to look away, Buck cleared his throat and put the hot dish down on the table. "Ezra! Come on in and sit down. Hope you're hungry."

Ezra didn't sit down. He remained in the doorway, his green eyes looking steadily at Buck. Eventually, he spoke. "Is there something wrong Buck?"

"No. Why?" Buck said quickly. Much too quickly.

Ezra put his head on one side, and Buck had to look away again before his heart stopped beating altogether.

"You look… twitchy."

"Twitchy?"

"Twitchy. On edge. Jumpy. Nervous."

"I know what it means Ezra," Buck huffed slightly, "and you're wrong. I'm not 'twitchy' or any such thing."

Ezra took a step towards him and, despite willing himself not to, Buck took a step back. Ezra's eyes momentarily widened. "See?" he said.

"See what?"

"Is it me?"

Of course it's you! Buck wanted to shout. Standing in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, looking so damn hot I can't think straight!

He settled for something less contentious. "I don't know what you're on about, Slick. Come and eat."

Ezra still didn't sit down. He sighed, and turned away from Buck's gaze. "I'm sorry, Buck. I thought perhaps I had,” the words would not form themselves properly and Ezra sighed, “I apologise. It's difficult."

Buck sensed that Ezra was trying to say something important and wanted to kick himself for sending out so many mixed messages and confusing Ezra more than he was already. "It's okay Ezra. You don't need to apologise for anything. And what's difficult? Can I help?" The sincerity in his voice was obvious, even to Ezra, who looked at him questioningly.

"Well, can I?" Buck said again, feeling that the conversation was at last going in a direction that he could contribute something positive towards, rather than making things more complicated, "You only gotta ask, Ez, and it's yours. Whatever you need. Whatever it is."

Ezra walked up and slid his right arm around Buck's neck, pulling Buck's face down to his and planting a swift, warm kiss on his mouth. "It's that," he said softly, "and I'm afraid I didn't have the courage to ask for it."

Buck, for once, was speechless. All he could manage was a disbelieving smile.

“That was… kinda unexpected,” he managed at last.

“But not, if my assumptions are correct, altogether unwelcome?” Ezra smiled.

“Y’always were a pretty shrewd operator,” Buck laughed.

“I attempt to wager only on those circumstances where I am reasonably sure of the outcome.”

“Oh, well you've no worries on that score. I’m a sure thing, Slick.”

"At least you didn't hit me," Ezra said, then frowned suddenly at his own bad choice of words, unbidden mental images of pain and fear triggering unwanted memories in his mind.

Buck saw the change of expression and read it accurately. "It's okay," he said quickly, circling his arms around Ezra and pulling him in close, "it's okay. I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm right here."

Green eyes searched Buck's face intently. "I was so afraid Buck," Ezra said, so softly that, despite how close they were, Buck could only just make out the words. "I'm still afraid."

Buck leaned in slightly and kissed him again. "I'm sorry Ezra, I'm so, so sorry," he said.

"Stop it," Ezra said, much more clearly, and pulled back a little. "Please Buck, stop apologising. Please! Apologising makes it worse. You have done nothing to apologise for."

"I'm an idiot," Buck said. "I should have put the pieces together faster than I did. I should have made you have a back up! I should have been there!"

"I don't understand, " Ezra looked genuinely puzzled, "you did nothing wrong, so why on earth should you feel guilty?"

"Because they hurt you. I don't know exactly what happened to you, but I know it was bad and I know I didn't stop them. They changed you, Ezra! You look the same, you sound the same, but you aren't the same!" He stopped to take a deep breath.

"But most of all, more than any of that, I wish it'd been me instead of you."

"What could possibly make you wish that?"

"Because your self-control and your dignity are so important to you, and they took it from you. I would much rather have been in that damned cellar myself than let them rob you of somethin' that means so much to you."

Ezra looked dumbfounded. "I think that's one of the nicest things that anyone has ever said to me," he said at last.

Buck took Ezra's face between his hands. "I was worried sick about you the whole time you were missing," he said, staring deep into Ezra's green eyes. "I didn't sleep more'n a wink and when I did, my dreams scared me stupid. I promised myself once we got you back that I would tell you exactly how I felt about you, but the only time I managed to screw up enough courage to say it was when you couldn't hear me, when you were unconscious in that damned hospital. I was so scared I didn't know what to do. God, Ezra! I've never been so damn scared in my life!" He managed a smile, "'cept maybe for right now."

Ezra smiled back. "I had no idea I could be so terrifying."

"I just don't wanna do the wrong thing," Buck said earnestly. "You seem - all shut up inside yourself. Kinda fragile. The last thing I want to do is make any of this worse."

Ezra looked just as intent. "I trust you Buck. When I was in that damned cellar I knew you would come and find me. It was you I visualised. You. Since I got out, everyone's been treating me as if I'm made of porcelain, and I hate it! I want to be the same as I was before. I want to be treated the same way you have always treated me, not cosseted like some invalid! The only person I know will be completely honest with me is you. I'm not fragile! I'm me. Ezra. And I need you to believe that."

"I do," Buck said, "but they took something away from you - from us - and I can't give it back because I don't know what it is!"

"They took away my ability to choose what I wanted for myself. But not now. Why do you think I came here? Why do you think I've been walking around outside for nearly an hour? I chose to come here and be with you, and, if being in that cellar taught me anything at all, it was that being able to choose for yourself is precious and should not be wasted."

Buck was so relieved to hear the strength in Ezra's voice, the renewed confidence. For the first time in weeks, he felt it really was Ezra he was talking to.

"And I also know exactly what I choose at this moment," Ezra almost purred, leaning in close against Buck's chest.

"Gimme a hint?" Buck joked, releasing Ezra's face and sliding his arms down and around, his hands eventually finding the warm skin of Ezra's back under the sweater.

Ezra's one good hand was expertly undoing the buttons on Buck's shirt. "Oh, I think you'll pick it up as we go along," he said into the skin of Buck's neck, "you have the reputation of being a quick study."

Buck's resolve was almost past the point of no return, but with considerable effort he grasped Ezra by the shoulders and pushed him away - just far enough that he could study his expression. "I ain't gonna ask this again, Ezra. Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want? And are you sure you know why? I meant what I said, the last thing I wanna do is hurt you any more than you're hurtin' already."

Ezra's gaze was unwavering. "Yes," he said. "I'm completely sure that I do not want to waste any more time debating whether or not you and I being together is a viable proposition. It is. I am also completely sure that I do not want to spend time eating your no doubt delicious lasagne, when I could be enjoying something a great deal more satisfying!”

“Like what?” Buck teased.

“Like finding out if your reputation as a paramour is well deserved, or if you are, as young Mr Dunne so frequently observes, ‘full of crap’.”

“I’d be happy to oblige you, Ezra. As long as you’re sure you’re up for this.”

Ezra looked down at his groin. “Well, I’d say the situation has potential,” he said with a grin.

Buck took one look at the expression on Ezra's face, and that was enough to melt his resolve entirely. His arms went back around the warm body. "Well, it's always a shame to waste potential," he said, before Ezra's kiss robbed him of any further words.

It wasn't the most elegant of kisses, all noses, lips and teeth, but what it lacked in finesse it more than made up for in passion, and Buck felt almost dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Ezra had managed to undo all the buttons on Buck's shirt, no small feat with only one good hand, and ran a warm palm over Buck's chest, making the skin quiver. Buck found himself pushed up against the counter, Ezra leaning into him with all his weight, the insistent, rhythmic grinding of his hips against Buck's leaving no doubt in Buck's mind that Standish meant business.

"We could always take this somewhere a little more… comfortable," he whispered in Ezra's ear.

"Only if I don't have to let go of you to get there," Ezra replied, "otherwise I'll settle for the counter or the floor."

"What's the rush? " Buck teased gently, nibbling Ezra's ear lobe and smiling at the tremor that shimmied down his body, "I ain't goin' anywhere, and my bed's a helluva lot more comfortable than my kitchen floor."

Ezra mock-growled, but relented and backed off enough to let Buck stand up. Somehow, they made it to the bedroom, colliding with doorframes and various portions of wall in their unwillingness to separate from each other.

Finally, a little breathless, they fell in a tangled heap onto Buck's bed. "Now that's more like it," Buck breathed, sliding his hands up under the hem of Ezra's sweater, feeling the warm skin and rigid nipples under the wool. Ezra sighed, squirming slightly under the skilled hands, and helping Buck to remove the obstructing article by shifting his bodyweight. With a little manoeuvring, and taking extra care to avoid jarring Ezra’s damaged wrist, Buck managed to pull the sweater over Ezra’s head, and threw it off the bed.

“Dear God!” he breathed the words out before he could stop them. Ezra’s body was a mass of fading bruises, blotches of yellowish skin, tinged with pale purple and faint brown marks. Buck was horrified. If this was how they looked weeks after, he couldn’t begin to imagine what Ezra had suffered in acquiring them. “Hell, Ezra - I had no idea…”

To Buck’s surprise, Ezra just smiled up at him. “It’s fine Buck, honestly. They don’t even hurt any more,” he pushed two fingers into the centre of one particularly spectacular pattern, “see? No pain. They can’t hurt me any more. They are the past, they’re over and done with.”

Buck kissed the centre of a round yellow mark on Ezra’s ribcage, full of seething rage at the damage done to someone tied up and helpless. “I’m sorry Ezra, I’ll be real careful,” he said.

Ezra nipped sharply at a patch of Buck’s exposed chest. “Don’t you dare!” Using his good hand, he tried to undo Buck’s leather belt, without much success. “I think a little assistance might be in order here,” he said in a whisper, “Perhaps this would be more successful if we removed our clothing first?”

Buck grinned at him. “Allow me!” Ezra was amazed at the speed with which Buck removed the jeans and underwear he was wearing, then stretched out beside Ezra on the bed. “Keep still,” he commanded, “and stop talking for two minutes, please.”

Warm hands glided across Ezra’s shoulders and down his arms, then back up and down his chest – a smooth, caressing motion that elicited a sigh of contentment. The hands continued, drawing delicate patterns across Ezra’s ribcage, then down to his waist, hooking into the waistband of the sweatpants and sliding them down and off in one easy action. The fingers were followed by a warm mouth, licking a trail over heated skin, sending surges of pleasure through Ezra's muscles. Buck took his time exploring the length of the warm body alongside him, before stretching out, full length, on top of Ezra - skin against skin, warm, firm muscle over warm, firm muscle. "God, you taste good," Buck said breathlessly, sucking gently on the pulse point in Ezra's neck, feeling and hearing the responses to his hands and mouth with mounting need.

Ezra shifted beneath Buck, wrapping his uninjured arm tightly around the broad back above him, and sliding his thighs apart so that Buck slipped between them. The both groaned at the sensation as their erections collided and were pressed together between their bodies. "Oh God, Buck" Ezra breathed, lifting his knees to give him better leverage and pushing upward, the delicious friction sending shocks of pleasure through him like electricity.

Buck gasped as Ezra's fingernails raked gently down his spine, leaving trails of shivering heat behind them, while that talented mouth nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin of Buck's neck and shoulder, making him tremor, his heartbeat beginning to race as Ezra thrust upwards against him.

This wasn't going to last long, Buck thought dizzily, they were both too highly-charged and excited for that, and he shifted his weight carefully, trying to slide a hand between their tightly-pressed bodies.

Ezra froze in mid-thrust. "No, Buck, please, not like that."

Buck stopped instantly. "Okay. That's fine," he whispered in Ezra's ear. "Whatever you want - however you want it. Tell me what you want Ez…"

Ezra pushed Buck upwards so that he could look into his face. "I want it all," Ezra said, eyes bright and dilated, "I want you… I want you inside me."

Buck's flash of surprise did not register in his expression. He looked directly into Ezra's face below him. "Are you sure 'bout this? I can make it real good for us both without you feeling you have to…"

Ezra reached up with both hands, ignoring the twinge of pain in his left wrist, and took Buck's face between his palms. "I don't have to do anything, Buck. It's what I want to do. It's what I want to do with you."

Buck smiled. There was no apprehension in Ezra's face, no fear, just a deep desire in his eyes. Buck almost groaned. "Jesus Ezra, you sure know how to get a body to boilin' point," he said with a rasp in his voice.

Rising to his knees between Ezra's thighs, Buck took a couple of deep breaths to steady his pulse rate and rein in his self-control.

"I assume you have…?" Ezra let question hang in the air.

Buck raised an eyebrow. "This is me you're talking to, Ezra. That's like asking you if you have a deck of cards in your house," he said, stretching across Ezra to open the nightstand drawer, and gasping as Ezra took advantage of the situation by swiping a hot, wet tongue across Buck's right nipple. "Jesus - that was sneaky!"

Ezra chuckled below him, but didn't stop licking any portion of Buck's chest that came within range of his mouth. Buck shuddered, his fingers refusing to function properly as he tried to uncap the tube of lubricant.

"Can I offer some assistance?" Ezra purred, reaching out and making a playful grasp for Buck's pulsing erection.

"No!" Buck yelped, almost dropping the lube, "I'm havin' enough trouble here holdin' on, without you interferin' an' bringin' this show to an early end!"

Ezra laughed again, settling for running his fingers up and down Buck's thighs. Buck pulled a face of mock anger, but had distracted Ezra long enough to squeeze a generous amount of the clear gel onto his hands. He moved backwards down the bed on his knees, until he was correctly positioned to lean forwards and take Ezra's fully aroused flesh into his mouth with one movement. Ezra cried out, arching off the bed at the sensation of wet heat that surrounded him.

"Now who is being 'sneaky'?" Ezra demanded weakly, his muscles beginning to tremble at the incredible sensations Buck's mouth was producing.

Buck couldn't reply, but Ezra felt the lips move into what could only be a smile. He was about to say something else, but the words were snatched from him as he felt Buck's hands tracking down his thighs, gently and confidently lifting him up, the long fingers searching and caressing his willing flesh. Ezra lifted his knees higher, pushing against Buck's fingers as they teased at the puckered entrance to his body, gasping in disbelieving delight at the incredible sensation that overtook him as first one, then two fingers entered him. He writhed beneath Buck, unable to stop the moans that rose in his throat.

Buck's mouth finally released him, and Ezra shuddered as he felt Buck's body moving upwards, his knees pushing gently at the back of Ezra's shaking thighs, raising him higher off the bed, whilst those incredible fingers gently worked inside him, making his body feel as if it were dissolving into sheer pleasure.

Buck took his time, realising just how much courage it had taken Ezra to trust him this far, and vowing that he would hold on to his rapidly disintegrating senses for as long as it took for this to be good for Ezra. He was sweating with the effort of restraint, holding back from his natural instincts, mesmerised by the sight of Ezra shivering and twisting beneath him, and trying to ignore the incredibly arousing sounds coming from Ezra's throat.

"Now - please, Buck, now! I need…"

"Ssshh," Buck soothed, sliding almost effortlessly upwards until he was on his knees, supporting as much of Ezra's weight as was necessary on his thigh muscles. Ignoring the shock of pleasure that burned along his nerves as he coated his own straining flesh with the cool lube, he moved forward slowly, positioning himself with great care, ready to push into the willing body beneath him.

Ezra almost cried out as Buck withdrew his fingers, but the sound degenerated into a throaty moan as he felt Buck moving forwards. "Gently - gently Ez," Buck said, as he felt Ezra begin to thrust towards him, "easy does it now, slowly…" Buck couldn't say anything else, the sensation of sliding inside Ezra was just too overwhelmingly good, and he had to fight hard just to stop himself from coming there and then.

"Oh my God," Ezra's eyes flew open at the incredible feeling of Buck inside him, the brief cramping spasm of pain over quickly, leaving only pleasure and a deeply satisfying pressure.

He shifted position, changing the angle between them in a way that made Buck almost cry out with need to simply thrust, it was so maddeningly good. Seeing the reaction his movement had triggered in Buck's face, and feeling it in the tremors of his body, Ezra locked his legs around Buck's waist. His body seemed as if it were moving of its own accord, responding to Buck's instinctively.

"I – I can't hold it for long, Slick," Buck's voice was hoarse, "this is too damn good…"

"Then move," Ezra murmured.

Buck did, responding to his body's demands, feeling the rhythm beginning to build.

Ezra tried to match him thrust for thrust, but the movement between them lost its cadence, and Ezra bit his lip in frustration.

Buck's eyes flew open, registering the sudden change in movement, sensing the change in emotion. "It's okay Ezra," he said softly, "nice and slowly. Just relax and tell me what you need. Just tell me Ez, whatever it is, I'll do it. Just tell me…"

"Slower," Ezra's eyes closed, "oh, please, Buck, just… slower."

Buck instantly stopped moving, then started again with gentle, agonising slowness, fighting his body's natural instincts with everything he had, watching the pleasure register on Ezra's face, hearing the soft groans that escaped from his throat.

Suddenly, despite the heady haze of need and desire that surrounded him, Buck understood. With pinpoint clarity he realised precisely what it was that Ezra needed.

He needed to feel again.

To feel at a level so deep, so real, that he could really, truly believe it. After all the pain and fear, all the hours of horror, all the agonising waiting, when all Ezra had been able to do was retreat inside himself for protection, now he needed help to emerge again. To feel. To know he was alive.

That, Buck could do. His hips moved again, propelling him oh, so slowly forwards, listening for the hitch in Ezra's breathing when he hit the exact spot inside that shot pure, concentrated pleasure through Ezra's very soul.

"There", Ezra murmured, "Oh God, Buck, there." His legs were shaking, too much for him to keep them in position and they began to slip from their lock around Buck's waist, sprawling apart as his body felt as if it were melting.

Ezra was close, his heart hammering in his chest, but something felt as if it were holding him back. Something dark and unnamed flittered at the edge of his consciousness, trying to poison his pleasure, reaching out for him with tendrils of pain and fear. Desperate for completion, Ezra reached blindly for his own straining cock, only to have his hands snatched away by Buck.

"No," Buck's voice registered over Ezra's growing panic.

"Look at me Ezra."

Buck stopped moving.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

Ezra obeyed, and Buck looked at the fear flashing in the green gaze below him. Buck smiled, then began his slow movement again, sliding his hands gently up Ezra's sweat-slicked thighs, rotating his hips in the smallest of circles, hitting the spot inside Ezra again and again and again.

"I love you," Buck said clearly, his eyes never wavering from Ezra's. "Just feel it."

His fingers locked with Ezra's, his body thrusting slowly again and again. "Feel it, Ez. I'm right here. Right here with you."

Buck saw the muscles in Ezra's neck begin to tighten, felt the body beneath him start to tense. Sweat sheened Ezra's face and neck, his back beginning to arch off the bed.

"That's it, Ezra. I'm right here. Just feel me."

Ezra groaned, his eyes widening as he felt himself sinking into Buck's gaze. He was close. So close. If only…

"Let it go, Ez. Just feel it and then you'll be able to let it all go."

Ezra could feel it. Feel the strength and love pouring from Buck above him. Feel the power of Buck's body, the incredible pleasure of Buck moving inside him. He could feel it. He gasped.

Buck smiled at him. "That's it, that's it Ez. Oh God, Ezra - feel it and come for me."

A hot wave of fierce pleasure suddenly boiled from inside Ezra, spiralling outwards as the powerful orgasm wracked his body and emptied his mind, erupting from him in a hot stream. He dimly felt Buck's hips thrust again, deeper this time, once, twice, then Buck shuddered strongly and was still.

It took several minutes before Buck could move, and he did so with infinite care, disengaging himself from Ezra's still-trembling body and almost collapsing onto the bed beside him. "You okay?" he asked, gathering a seemingly boneless Ezra against him, enveloping him in arms that were still refusing to obey him properly.

"No," Ezra said against the hot, damp skin of Buck's chest. "I think 'okay' is singularly the most inappropriate word I could come up with for how I feel at the moment."

Buck chuckled. Ezra was fine.

From somewhere, Ezra summoned the energy to lift his head and look at Buck's face. "Thank you," he said simply.

Buck looked surprised. "What for?"

"For giving back what I had taken from me. My right to choose and my ability to feel."

Buck's blue eyes registered the sincerity in Ezra's words with delight. "My pleasure," he said, "and I mean that more'n you'll ever know."

Ezra leaned closer. "I heard you, you know," he said.

"Heard what? When?" Buck was puzzled.

"In the hospital. I heard you talking to me… asking me to come back. I didn't want to - not then, I was in too much pain, and I was so tired," Ezra's eyes closed momentarily, remembering, but only for a moment.

"I couldn't respond, but I did hear you. I heard it all. And I heard you say you loved me."

Buck's expression changed from puzzlement to astonishment in a split second. "Is that why you came here tonight? Why you kissed me first? You knew?"

Ezra nodded. "And my patience was becoming exhausted," he said with a grin. "I had been waiting for you to say something, do something, but you were so busy worrying about how you thought I was feeling, you didn't do anything about finding out how I really was feeling. So, I decided that if you were going to be bashful about it…"

"I ain't bashful!"

"Oh alright, 'reticent' then. Whatever - I decided if you weren't going to do anything about it, then I would have to."

"I nearly did - before you did, I mean," Buck said, looking slightly abashed.

"When?" Ezra was genuinely intrigued.

"When you were standing in the kitchen door - in my clothes. God, Ezra, you looked so hot I just wanted to jump you, right there and then!"

Ezra smiled. "I will have to remember that. If I wish to be desirable, wear clothes that don't fit."

Buck shook his head. "Nope - I prefer you wearing no clothes at all."

"You are a reprobate."

"If that means irresistibly sexy, then yep, definitely."

"It doesn't."

"I know that, Ezra. That was a joke."

"No, you are mistaken. A joke is amusing."

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little, perhaps."

"A little? After what we just did?"

"I was actually thinking about something else…"

"Gimme five minutes Ezra. My batteries need to get a recharge here. I'll be good to go again in…"

"No, I didn't mean that! Good heavens!"

"Well then, what did you mean? What are you thinking about?"

"Lasagne. And that open bottle of Zinfandel I spotted in your kitchen."

"Only if you'll share a shower with me first."

"Mr Wilmington, you have yourself a deal."

7~7~7~7~7~7~7

Josiah walked into Chris's office, carrying two mugs of steaming coffee, just in time to see Chris sealing a file into a 'Case Closed' envelope, and signing the seal tag.

"Kind of satisfying, that, isn't it?" he said.

Chris smiled. "Yes, very."

"Blue Dragon?" Josiah asked.

"Yes. And I am more than happy to consign this to the archives - hopefully never to be seen again."

Josiah put a mug down on Chris's desk. "So, we can add 'dragon-slayers' to our ever-growing list of abilities?"

Chris arched an eyebrow. "That's not even close to funny, Josiah."

Sanchez shrugged. "I thought it appropriate," he lowered his voice slightly, "particularly as one of our number appears to have successfully slain a few dragons of his own."

Chris nodded in agreement.

A voice floated in through the open door of Chris's office. "I sincerely hope you do not expect me to drink this vile concoction, Mr Tanner? It appears to be undulating in the cup in a way that suggests it may become a sentient life form at any moment! Honestly, is it too much to expect that someone with your abilities should be able to produce a drinkable cup of coffee? Well, is it? Or are you deaf as well as incapable?"

"Quit bitchin' Ezra, or make your own damn coffee."

Josiah and Chris grinned at each other.

The End

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