by Clara Moore

Disclaimer: They do not belong to me and I am not making any money. This is just for fun.

Pairings: C/V B/E implied.

Kudos: Many thanks to SueN, Giselle, Ket, Sandra and Annie for their encouragement, suggestions and support and to SueN for her terrific beta work. Notes: This is in answer to Kim's prison challenge in January. Please keep in mind that I have no knowledge of prison life or activities. I'm certain I gave our guys more freedom to move about than would normally be allowed in correctional institutions. The inmate programs mentioned in this fic do exist, but not necessarily in Colorado. The exception is the 'Colorado Wild Horse Roundup' inmate program.

Feedback: Yes, but please be kind.

Warning: Death of M7 character (by natural causes).

THE FIRST WEEK:
Chris's Story

Chris Larabee glanced around the small space that would be his home for the rest of his natural life. There were two bunks, two lockers, two chairs, a desk and something resembling a latrine. He noticed another person sitting Indian-style against the wall, chanting in a low drone. Chris dropped his meager belongings on the bottom bunk, stretched out, crossed his ankles and pillowed his arms behind his head.

Chris's mind tried to drift back over the past year, but he found himself distracted. He leaned up on his elbow and snarled. "Will you shut the fuck up!" he growled. There was a minute pause, then the chanting continued. Chris wanted to hit something, someone, and figured his new cellmate would be as good as anyone. He started to swing his legs over the side, but found the chanting was actually soothing to his raw nerves. He sighed, settled back down on the bunk and let his thoughts wander.

He was doing life without parole. He didn't regret killing Ella or her attorney, but he did regret Buck getting involved. Well, Buck getting caught anyway, he smirked. Buck had loved Sarah and Adam as if they were his own, so his involvement was hardly surprising. After Cletus Fowler made his daring escape during the trial, Buck had gone after him and killed the bastard. Chris had been unaware of Buck's actions at the time, he was so engrossed in the trial itself. He and Buck had attended Ella and Fowler's murder trial daily. They sat in the front row and listened intently to each word spoken in the courtroom. Then Cletus had escaped and Buck stopped attending the trial, telling Chris he had something that needed taking care of.

Chris had watched Ella throughtout the proceedings. She had smiled and flirted with the men on the jury, her attorney, Chris and occasionally the prosecuter. He felt sick every time she looked his way; after all, he and Ella had been close at one time. That was before he'd met and married Sarah. He had burned red-hot then cold with Ella, but his marriage had been the stuff of dreams. He and Sarah had worked towards their common goal during the day and made love at night. They shared the wonderful time of her pregancy and the birth of their beloved son, Adam. Then the car bomb had exploded, killing Sarah and Adam, and his nightmare had begun.

It had taken a few years for the authorities to find and build a case against Fowler and Ella, to prove their responsibilty in the matter and bring them to trial. The trial, however, had been a sham and when the jury forman read the 'not guilty' verdict for Ella, Chris had not been too surprised.

Chris had left the courthouse and headed for his truck. He had retrieved his gun and started back up the courthouse steps. Halfway up, he had met her and her attorney on the way down. She was hanging onto her lawyer's arm, laughing up at something clever he'd said, when she had seen Chris.

"Chris! Darling!" she'd said "Now we can be together forev..." At that point, Chris had raised his gun and fired several times, killing her and her attorney. The shocked look on her face as the bullets pierced her body, her body jerking from the impact, gave Chris a small amount of satisfaction.

Since the death of his beloved wife and son, Larabee had not had one moment's rest, not a moment's peace, so he would welcome the cop's bullet that would put an end to his nightmare, his misery, his life and braced himself for the impact. Instead he was thrown to the steps face-down, handcuffed and led away.

During Ella's trial, Chris could see what was happening and had settled his legal affairs. He'd left his parents in charge of his land, home, money and his horses. Chris had planned to plead guilty and ask for the death penalty. His parents had other ideas and had hired the best defense attorney they could find. After his trial and the sentance handed down, life without parole, Larabee had viciously attacked his lawyer, then with lightening speed, had jumped up onto the table, cursing the judge and jury. He started towards the judge's bench, screaming obscenties, jumping from table to table, fighting off those who tried to block his passage across the courtroom. He landed several bone crushing blows before being subdued. He had been carried away in handcuffs and legirons, still cursing the powers that be.

Chris grinned to himself. It really served him right; he'd known his parents would hire the best for his defense rather than see him go to death row. Of course, the 'best' was still in the hospital, recovering from the brutal attack. Chris hoped the guy wouldn't sue his parents. He should have given everything to charity. He grinned at that thought. So here he was and unless he was killed in a fight, he'd be here for a long time to come.

The chanting had stopped and Chris swung his legs over the side of the bunk and sat up. He sighed, looked at his cellmate and found the clearest blue eyes looking back at him, warily. Chris couldn't stop staring. He knew this man, yet he didn't. His cellmate was young and wiry with shoulder-length hair. His skin was either tanned dark or he was part indian, Chris couldn't tell which. Time would tell, he thought. This young man was good-looking, easy on the eyes and, if the chanting was any indication, easy on the ears.

"Name's Chris," he said.

"Vin Tanner," came the answer.

"Been here long?"

"'Bout a week," Vin drawled.

"So whatta you do around here for fun?" Chris asked.

Vin shrugged, gifting Larabee with a lopsided grin. A grin Chris felt all through his body.

"They got a weight room around here?" Chris questioned.

VIN'S STORY

Vin Tanner was meditating, chanting an old Indian tune his grandfather had taught him as a young boy. It was like a soothing balm to his nerves. He appeared to be oblivious to his surroundings, but he was very alert. He'd learned at an early age to keep strangers at least an arm's length from him and always be alert to the surrounding area. He watched through lowered eyelids as his new cellmate was admitted to the tiny cell. He overlooked the intrusion and continued his chant. The new inmate took the bottom bunk and made himself comfortable.

After a few minutes, he raised up and growled, "Will you shut the fuck up!"

Vin ignored the outburst and continued his litany. He covertly eyed the newcomer. 'Must think he's a bad ass or somethin'', Vin thought and sighed. He'd been sleeping on the top bunk, so he was happy that this stranger took the bottom one. He liked the top bunk; being up high gave him a measure of safety. Anyone trying to sneak up on him would have to climb, and Vin was sure he could take them out before they managed to get that high. It wasn't like these bunks were made for climbing.

He thought of Charlotte. Strangely, he didn't miss her, not like he thought he would. He wasn't sorry she was dead, though. She had been the love of his life and she had used him. His first love, first meaningful sexual experience, first everything. His feelings for her had run white-hot and he couldn't get enough of her.

Vin had been in Denver after a bounty. He'd caught the guy, turned him over to the authorities to be shipped back to Texas, wired the money to his partner and started home.

Just outside of Denver, he'd stopped for dinner and a beer at a roadhouse and there she was. She was waiting tables and took his order with the sweetest smile. Vin thought she was a goddess! They had started talking, dancing and ended up spending the night together in her room. The next morning he'd called his partner in El Paso, to let him know he was staying in Denver a little longer. He and Charlotte had spent a passion-filled month together and Vin had asked her several times to get married and go back to Texas with him. She kept putting him off, but he was so much in love he didn't worry. He figured she was just being cautious, so he gave her the time she needed to make up her mind.

One day, she'd asked him to go to a neighboring town to pick up a package for her. She left for work and Vin left to run her errand. It was late when he returned. There had been no package and Charlotte had not returned to their room after work. Vin was beside himself, worried sick that something bad had happened to her. In the morning, he went looking for her, checking all the places she and her friends like to hang out. He even tried to file a missing person's report, though he knew it was to soon. He had gone back several times to check the room to no avail.

Late in the afternoon, not knowing what else to do, Vin drove by the roadhouse and spotted her car there. He was joyous! She was okay, safe, he'd finally found her! Vin parked his jeep, jumped out and headed inside. He looked around the crowded room, then checked the dance floor. There she was on the dance floor, dancing with a stranger. The stranger held her tight and rubbed his hands up and down her back affectionally. Vin's stomach knotted and he thought he would be sick. He started towards them.

Vin grabbed her arm and asked, "Where ya been?"

"Oh, Vin," she had cooed. "I want you to meet my husband, Will Richmond."

"Who the hell are you?" the man spat.

"I ought ta be askin' ya the same thing," Vin drawled.

"Now, you two, no need to fight," Charlotte grinned. "Vin, Will and I have been separated, but now we're getting back together. Isn't that wonderful!" she said happily.

"You're m...married?" Vin said, stunned.

"Yeah we're married, and I'll thank you to take your dirty hands off my wife," Will added.

Charlotte continued, "Vin it's been fun and all, but now Will and I are patching things up. I hope there are no hard feelings. I just love him so much," she said with a coy little smile.

"Ya said ya loved me," Vin said, looking at her.

"You know I didn't mean that, Vin. It's just what people say, you know, in the heat of the moment," Charlotte defended.

Will gave Vin a little shove and ordered, "Get the hell away from me and my wife and if I ever see you again, I'll kill ya! Got it, asshole?"

Vin backed away from the pair, shocked and heartbroken. His head throbbed and he couldn't think straight. The blood drained from his brain and a loud roar took its place. He strolled to his jeep, stood there a few minutes, made up his mind and took his gun from its hiding place. He checked the clip, slipped one into the chamber and headed back inside. The roar inside his head was deafening as he made his way back to where they were dancing. Will frowned when he saw Vin approaching them. Vin could tell Will was talking to him, but the roar drowned out all other noises. Vin raised his gun, shooting Will first, then Charlotte. They both fell to the floor, dead.

Pandemonium and confusion broke out, but Vin was unaware of what was going on around him. He walked back to the jeep, laid the gun on the passenger seat and started for home. He'd already been gone too long.

Less than five miles down the road, he was stopped by the highway patrol. Vin surrendered, was arrested and taken into custody. He accepted the plea of twenty-five to life on his twenty-third birthday.

Vin was sure he wouldn't make it through the first month, anyway. He figured he'd get killed in a fight or just waste away. He'd lost his freedom to take long treks into the wilds, watch sunsets or a beautiful sunrise. Yep, Vin thought, he'd probably just go plumb loco.

He finished his chant, ending his song. It was strange how his grandfather's teachings were starting to come back to him. He needed the comfort of those lessons. Maybe he'd find peace again.

He looked at his new cellmate and felt his pulse quicken. He knew this man, but couldn't think from where. Somewhere back in time they'd ridden together, Vin was sure. He knew he was staring, but couldn't look away. The green eyes stared back in recognition of a soulmate.

"Name's Chris."

"Vin Tanner," he drawled.

"Been here long?" Chris asked.

"'Bout a week," Vin answered.

"So whatta you do around here for fun?" Chris inquired.

Vin shrugged and grinned.

"They got a weight room around here?"

Vin nodded his head and in a graceful fluid motion rose from the floor as both of them moved towards the cell door.

BUCK'S STORY

Buck stepped through the cell door and eyed the kid standing back against the wall. This kid didn't look old enough to shave, much less be in an adult prison, he thought. Buck continued to look around the small area that would be his home for the next twenty-five years or so. At least he had a chance for parole, eventually. Not like Chris, who was here for the duration of his life. Hell, Buck sighed, maybe he'd get one of those interesting jobs, keep his mind clear, keep his nose clean and hopefully the time would pass quickly. Yeah, like that was about to happen, he smirked as he smooth his mustache.

Buck wondered about Chris. He was truly afraid for his friend, who seemed hell-bent on getting himself killed. Chris had fought with everyone, cursed everyone, attacked his lawyer and tried to attack the judge. No one but Larabee had the balls to try a stunt like that, Buck thought to himself and felt a smile forming on his mouth. He'd have loved to have witnessed that one, Larabee jumping from table to table before being brought down. Rumor had it that several marshals and a bailiff had been taken to the hospital and the judge had to change clothes before continuing. Of course, Chris coming at you with a murderous rage in his eye could be a downright frightening thing.

Buck had hoped he and Chris would share a cell. That way, he could keep an eye on his friend, keep him safe and try to keep him alive. Instead, here he was, stuck with this kid who looked like he was about to cry at any minute. The kid was scared, no doubt about that.

Buck had admitted responsibilty for his crime, but he did not regret it. If anyone needed killing it was Cletus Fowler and Ella Gaines. He and Chris had been following the trial closely. They attended daily, listened to every word. Then the day came that Fowler was not in the courtroom. The attornies exchanged verbal comments and Ella's attorney demanded a mistrial. The judge denied the motion and Ella's trial had continued without Fowler.

Buck had been a detective in the Denver Police Department, before he had quit and gone to work for Chris. He made an excuse to Chris about not attending the trial and made an appearance at his old precinct. He visited with the group of cops he had worked with and listened to the talk of the daring daytime escape, informally gathering information. After promising to visit more often, Buck left the building and went in search of a former snitch. Actually tracking Fowler had been quite easy. He left a trail a child could follow and once Buck had him cornered in an old abandoned apartment house, Cletus gave up any pretense of trying to run.

"I'm taking you back, Fowler." Buck had said, pointing his gun at him. "You're gonna pay for killing Chris's family."

He taunted Buck. "Never seen a fireball go off so spectacular like that one did. Must have packed too much C4 in it." He laughed. "I ain't going back. Anyway's, Larabee and Ella can git hitched now."

Buck realized Cletus was as crazy as Ella. Could she really believe Chris would marry her? Cletus continued to laugh at Buck. "Turn around and go back where you come from," he said, turning his back on Buck.

"I came from hell, where I'm sending you back to!" he hissed and shot Fowler in the back. It wasn't a killing shot, that would come later. Buck shot him many times, each in a vital, non-lethal part of the body. Elbows, knees, groin and finally in the heart. Fowler was begging for death before the final shot was fired. Buck asked. "Why ain't ya laughing now, Cletus?" Just before he killed him. After all the pain and suffering everyone had been through, Buck felt that Sarah and Adam had finally been avenged.

By that time, Ella had been acquitted and was dead by Chris's hand. Buck turned himself in and probably would have received a light sentance or none at all, except for the torture he had inflicted on Fowler. After all, he was an escaped felon.

Buck swore he'd follow Chris to hell and back and in a way he already had. He did not regret killing Cletus, not one bit. He accepted a plea of twenty-five to life. Buck figured he'd serve at least fifteen before he had a chance for parole.

He looked over at the kid. "Name's Buck. You?"

"I'm JD Dunne. Go ahead and take the lower bunk, I won't be here very long."

"Thanks kid." Buck answered. He did not relish trying to fit his large frame into the upper bed. "Been here long?" Buck continued.

"A few days. I'm in for a murder. I saw some hostages get shot." JD volunteered. "I'll probably be freed after my appeal, you know."

"Okay," Buck answered, making himself comfortable.

"Yeah, so I won't be here much longer," JD continued.

"That's good, kid. Shouldn't you be over at juvie?" Buck couldn't help but ask.

"I'm ninteen!" JD retorted. "I'm not a kid!"

"Ah...sure, kid, I can see that now." Buck placated.

"Well, anyway, just don't get used to me 'cause I'll be out of here soon. I'll be leaving soon's my appeal is granted," JD said with more bravado than he felt.

"Okay," Buck answered. He felt sorry for the kid. JD was only fooling himself if he thought he was going anywhere anytime soon. Buck didn't say so, however; he didn't want to deflate the kid's hope. The kid was going to need all the hope he could summon for the days ahead.

It was a good thing he had Buck for a cellmate and not some hardened con. Hell, Chris for that matter, he thought. Chris would have already taped the kid's mouth shut. Buck could tell the kid was scared. Well, he'd take the kid under his wing, take care of him and try to keep him safe. Buck needed a purpose in life and the kid would give him that. And it would be another way to pass the time.

He wondered about Chris again and hoped he'd be all right. God help Chris's cellmate, he thought, shaking his head in dismay.

"They got a weight room around here, kid?" Buck asked.

JD'S STORY

JD was scared! More scared than he'd ever been in his life. The whole thing had started out innocently enough. He and Billy Travis had been out cruising in Billy's new car, going nowhere in particular. Billy had asked him if he had any money, to which JD had laughed. Billy's mother and grandparents were rich and powerful people in town, yet Billy had no spending money. Where did he think JD was going to get any cash? Billy had no answer for that, so the idea of the heist was conceived. Billy showed JD the old gun he'd taken from his grandfather's desk. It was an antique Colt and JD wondered aloud if it actually worked. Billy assured him it would shoot; his grandfather kept his guns in good working order. JD took it, played with it, spinning the chamber and looking down the sight.

Plans for the heist continued. 'Heist' was the word they used. It sounded big, dangerous and important. They would pick a place, walk in, show the gun, demand money and leave. Easy as that. Afterwards they'd get a burger, maybe catch a movie, then split up the loot. It should have been a piece of cake, easy as pie, both boys confident, smug, sure of success. They passed a finance company and decided that would be their target. After all, if you give someone a loan, you'd need money to pay it out. A couple of thousand at least, they both surmised.

As they entered the store, both of them missed the sign that informed, 'NO CASH KEPT ON PREMISES'.

They pointed the gun at the manager, demanded money and were told that all loans were paid by check and that only checks were accepted as payment. In frustration, Billy shot the manager. JD heard someone screaming and realized it was him. He stopped screaming and demanded the gun from Billy's hand. There were three women cowering by their desks, whimpering in fright. "Shut up!" Billy yelled in panic. He handed the gun to JD and it went off, killing one of the workers. JD fired at the second worker and saw her fall. The last one tried to run towards the back of the store and Billy, who now had the gun back, shot at the fleeing woman. She fell to the floor.

Both boys looked around, then at each other. Four people lay on the floor, JD was sure they were all dead. How had this happened, he wondered. This was suppose to be easy.

"Let's get out of here," JD said.

Billy nodded in agreement, but as they started to leave the store, the police were waiting and took them both into custody. One of the workers had tripped the silent alarm.

Judge Orin Travis, Billy's grandfather, lobbied for leniency in consideration for their ages and, up to now, clean records. There was a lot of talk about how two seemingly good boys could pull such a heinous crime. Billy's mother, a well respected TV news anchor, was very vocal about how easy it was for children to fall in with the wrong crowd. She was sure her son was innocent and demanded the boys be tried separately, certain her son would be granted a light sentance or community service for his part. After all, he had his future ahead of him. Both requests were denied and the trial began. One of the ladies had survived the ordeal. She sat on the witness stand and told her tale of terror and senseless slaughter.

Both boys were found guilty, but in consideration for Judge Travis, both boys received life in prison. Judge Travis promised to help JD with his first appeal, but should that be denied, there would be no more help. JD would be on his own. JD was hopeful he'd either get a new trial or be set free. After all, what they did had been an accident, a lark. They hadn't meant to kill anyone. If only Billy hadn't shot the manager, if only they had seen the sign on the door, if only there had been a cash drawer. JD could not believe he'd be in jail for very long.

JD and Billy had hoped to be cellmates, but they had been assigned to different cell blocks. So here he stood, alone with this tall stranger and he couldn't stop talking.

"Well, anyway, I'll be out of here soon, so don't get used to having me here." JD tried to sound confident and sure of himself.

"I won't kid, I hope you do get out soon." Buck assured him with a large smile, again fingering his mustache.

Yes, JD was scared. He'd heard what went on in these places. What cellmates did to each other. He looked over at Buck and hoped he was nice, but he didn't want to let his guard down. He didn't want to show fear and tried to think of something else to say because this guy was watching him with a smirk on his face. Did he say something about a weight room?

"Yeah, I'll show you where it's at," JD answered, anxious to leave the confines of the cell.

NATHAN'S STORY

Nathan was a very angry man. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to curb that anger. Here he was in a prison cell for at least the next fifteen years of his life. If only he'd listened to his lawyer. He didn't deserve to be in here. It was Raine who had cheated, lied and betrayed him, not the other way around.

He looked across the small area at his new cellmate and shook his head. "This is just great!" Nathan muttered to himself. Here he was, stuck in this cell with this smooth talking scam artist. Nathan thought the guy had said his name was Ezra something, but he was so angry he couldn't be sure. And then that gold tooth had glinted at him, so he wasn't even sure he had choked out his own name during introductions. Maybe he had, but he couldn't be sure.

Nathan reflected about why he was in prison and not at home. He was senior EMT at the firehouse and had just reported for his twelve-hour shift. The captain had asked him to represent their station at a meeting downtown at the main office. The conference had been about some new procedures being implemented. The meeting had ended early and after Nathan reported back to Captain Ryder, the captain had suggested Nathan knock off work early, head home and take his beautiful wife out for a romantic dinner. Nathan was ecstatic and began planning the night out with his wife, Raine. He thought about calling her, but decided instead to surprise her. Well, he'd been the one to get the surprise.

Thinking about the evening, Nathan thought they would make love first, then have a long candlelight dinner at their favorite cafe. Yes, tonight was going to be special.

Nathan walked into their apartment and heard noises coming from the bedroom. He headed that way and found a man holding Raine on the bed. His first thought was that she was being raped. He grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck and jerked him off the bed. The stranger scurried off into a corner, grabbing his clothes, while Raine jumped up and held Nathan back.

"No! Nathan, no!" she screamed. "Please, Nathan, don't hurt him. We love each other," Raine said.

"What? W...What are you saying, Raine?" Nathan asked, dumbfounded.

"We're in love, Nathan. I was going to ask you for a divorce, but the time never seemed right." Raine begged, "Please, Nathan, can you see it in your heart to give me my freedom? Mac and I want to get married. Please, Nathan, please. Do this for me. If you've ever loved me. Do this for me." Raine repeated, beginning to cry.

Nathan touched the side of her face in a loving caress. He smiled sadly at her. "I've loved you half my life, Raine. I could never let you go. You should know that." His thumb lightly touched her cheek.

"Please Nathan," she begged through silent tears.

Nathan eyed the stranger in his bedroom, who was trying to get his pants on, and asked quietly, "What's your name?"

"M...Mac" The stranger answered in a shaky voice.

Nathan walked calmly over to the night table by the bed and lifted his gun from the drawer. He gave his wife another sad smile and gently sat her on the bed. Raine begged for his forgiveness as he shot, killing her instantly.

He glanced over at Mac, who was visibily shaken, standing in the corner, cowering. "You don't have to do this," he begged.

Nathan covered Raine's naked body with a coverlet to protect her modesty.

"Go on, get dressed," Nathan told him. "Go on now, get your clothes on," he said sadly. Mac dressed, then tentatively edged his way out of the corner, stopped and eyed Nathan.

"You really don't have to do this," Mac begged, sobbing.

Nathan watched him through angry eyes, raised his gun and said through clinched teeth, "Yes I do, Mac. I hope you enjoy your trip to hell." With that, Nathan shot him, also.

Nathan sighed and looked around the bedroom with tears in his eyes. He went into the living room, laid his gun on the coffee table and called 9-1-1 to report the shooting. He sat back in his recliner to wait for the police. The tears started to flow freely. He thought about his lost love, the lost dreams he and Raine had shared, their lost lives. He felt dead and wondered why he didn't just shoot himself. He started to pick up the gun when the first officer arrived at the door. With the police came the EMT's and the chance for suicide quickly passed. Nathan directed the authorities to the bedroom.

Against his lawyer's advice, Nathan accepted a plea of fifteen to life. His attorney tried to convince Nathan to insist on a jury trial. A jury would probably be sympathetic to his plight, but Nathan just wanted the whole ordeal behind him.

Now, here he was, ready to start a new phase of his life, and he was stuck here with this con-man, who was shuffling and reshuffling those cards. It was really getting on his nerves.

To make matters worse, he'd lost the draw for the bottom bunk, just adding to his rage and frustration. He was sure Ezra had cheated, but just couldn't prove it. He decided to work off some of the anger he was feeling and left the cell.

As he reached the workout area, he met up with a gang of the Aryan Nation. They began to hassle him with name calling and pushing. When they began to pull him into a secluded corner, Nathan wondered just what else could go wrong in his life.

EZRA'S STORY

Ezra looked at his new cellmate and wondered, not for the first time, why his luck kept going from bad to worse. Here he was, stuck in this god-forsaken place in these god-forsaken clothes, with a person who hated him. He didn't even know this gentleman, but he had hated Ezra at first sight. Why him, he wondered. Oh well, he sighed, he certainly wasn't here for the laughs.

Ezra thought about why he was in prison. He had been in a poker game and, of course, he was winning. One of the patrons at the table accused him of cheating. That had offended Ezra, so he threw out an insult of his own. They had gone back and forth for a few minutes, when the other gentleman jumped up and reached inside his coat. Ezra thought he was going for a gun, but instead was reaching for his wallet. Ezra pulled his own gun and shot the man. What he thought was self-defense had quickly become murder.

Ezra decided a plea of twenty to life was better than life without parole or the death penalty, so he'd acquiesced.

So, here he was, Ezra sighed. He and his new cellmate had drawn cards for the bottom bunk. His high card had won the draw and Mr. Jackson had accused him of cheating. That's what had caused his troubles in the first place. Could he help it that he was the better player? Ezra shook his head and sighed again.

He had arrived five days prior and had made an acquaintance with a Mr. Tanner. He had hoped to share a cell with the quiet Texan. They had talked in the dayroom while waiting for their orientation. Actually, Ezra had talked and Mr. Tanner had listened, nodding his head on occasion. The man had been so quiet that Ezra had been tempted to check for life. That was, if he dared touch the man. Mr. Tanner, it appeared did not like to be handled in any way. Whenever a guard had come too close, Mr. Tanner had flinched or moved away. Well, Ezra could understand that. Strangers touching you was never a good thing.

Ezra decided to follow his cellmate to the weight room. Maybe he'd catch up with Mr. Tanner or find a game of chance.

JOSIAH'S STORY

Josiah had just finished praying with a few inmates when he was accosted by another. This young man had joined the Aryan Nation gang.

"What's it ta be, preacher? You with us?"

Josiah stayed calm and answered, "This chapel is a place of sanctuary, a haven for lost souls, such as your own."

"Ain't nuthin' wrong with my soul, preacher. If you're not with us, you're against us. What's it to be, huh?"

Josiah sighed. He'd been here more years than he'd like to remember. He had always stayed away from the gangs, never taking sides, and always had the respect of the inmates. That seemed to be changing. All Josiah wanted to do was to live out the rest of his life in peace, but apparently, that was not to be.

A new gang of skinheads had been formed and was threathening everyone who did not agree with their ideology. Josiah was not about to let everything he'd worked so hard to build be torn down by someone too stupid to live.

Back in the '70s, he'd gone on a drunken rampage, killing several students. Josiah didn't remember what had set him off, but once he sobered up, several of his colleagues at the monastary lay dead and several more cowered in a locked room, away from him. He'd been given life without parole.

He had been assigned to work with the prison chaplain at the time of his incarceration and was now the prison chaplain.

"As I said, this is a place of refuge, a haven. That will never change. If you wish to sit quietly and reflect upon your sinful ways, then you are welcome to stay. If not, then leave." Josiah turned to face the youth with a look of determination.

The skinhead did not know what to do. He was used to getting his way, but without others around him, he could not enforce his rule.

"I'll be back, preacher. You won't be so smart then!" he tried to bully.

Josiah sighed wearily. This chapel had always been a place the inmates could come and be free of worry or fear. He vowed he would find a way to put these assholes in their place. To keep this a place of worship and perserve the sanctity of the pulpit.

It was a beautiful day and there was an outside door to the yard, off the gym. Josiah decided to mosey on over there, maybe work out a bit and, afterwards, sit quietly in the sun.

C7 ~ C7 ~ C7

Tanner and Larabee were headed towards the weight room when Vin saw Ezra coming around the corner. Vin stopped to wait for the newcomer and Chris stopped to wait for Vin. Vin had met Ezra their first day here and had liked the guy right away. Ezra could talk a good story, which amused Vin slightly. Ezra had stuck close by him that day and both had wondered aloud if they would be sharing a cell. However, they had been assigned the same cellblock number, but different cells.

Ezra inquired, "Mr. Tanner, how might you be this fine day?"

Vin nodded and grinned. "Good ta see ya, Ez." They shook hands.

"I'm not well, Mr. Tanner, not well at all. This abode does not live up to my expections and my wardrobe has been severely curtailed," Ezra lamented. "Have you secured a cellmate yet?"

"Reckon I have." Vin pointed his chin towards Larabee. "Chris, here." he rasped.

"Ah yes, the indomitible Mr. Larabee. I'd heard you were coming here." Chris nodded his head at Standish, but otherwise said nothing, just turned and headed on down the corridor. Vin and Ezra followed close behind him.

As they were about to enter the gym area, they spied a black man being manhandled towards a blind corner by four skinheads.

Chris glanced that way, considering whether or not it was any of his business, when Vin pushed by him and headed in their direction.

"Shit!" Chris muttered as he saw Vin grab one of the skinheads off of the hapless black man and fling him into the wall. A shank landed on the floor and skittered across the tile towards Larabee. Chris scooped it up and hid the knife inside his shirt. He reached out and grabbed one of the skinheads, punching him in the belly, then in the face. He dropped the inmate to the floor and started after another one.

Ezra stood there, unsure of what to do, when he noticed other gang members approaching. He threw several punches of his own, discouraging them from joining the fight.

Josiah Sanchez had been watching as the fight was starting. He noticed the new inmate, Vin Tanner, step up to help the black man being attacked. Josiah shook his head, broke a long-standing rule about taking sides and marched into the melee. He pulled two skinheads, one off Vin, the other off Ezra, by the scruff of their collars and knocked their heads together, proclaiming, "Repent brothers! Change your evil ways and seek the redemption of the Almighty." With that he dropped them both to the floor.

By this time, Vin had disabled another gang member by elbowing him in the side and kicked another in the shin as he was trying to sneak up behind Tanner. He heard the grunt of pain and felt the hands slide off his back. Vin looked around, checking that everything was under control.

Chris asked, "Is everyone all right?" He glanced at Nathan and asked, "What was that about?"

Nathan shrugged, looked at the mess of bodies at his feet and shrugged again. He straightened his shirt and gave another shrug.

At that time, Chris felt a strong hand on his shoulder and whipped around, still ready to do battle.

"Hold on, stud, it's only me," Buck said, holding his arms up in surrender.

"Buck!" Larabee exclaimed, happy to see his friend and shaking his hand.

"This your doin' Chris? 'Cause if it is, there's guards on the way," Buck said.

"Let's get out of here," Chris ordered, looking for an escape.

"There's an outside door through the gym," Josiah said and turned, expecting them to follow. "This way, brothers." He led the way through the weight room and out the exit. Vin clapped his hand on Nathan's back and encouraged him to follow the others.

On their way, Ezra noticed a bucket of bottled water and grabbed several bottles. It was a warm mild day and several inmates relaxed around the yard. Josiah and Chris headed towards a bench area that held a picnic table between the wall and fenced yard. Ezra passed around the water bottles so bloodied knuckles and noses could be rinsed off and cleaned up. Nathan looked around the table at the men who had saved him from a hard beating; who had quite possibly saved his life and introduced himself. "Nathan Jackson," he said.

Vin offered his hand. "Vin Tanner."

Buck stood and offered his hand. "Buck Wilmington, and this here's Chris." Nathan took Buck's hand and nodded at Chris. He received a nod in return. "The kid's JD." Buck introduced the young man with him.

Josiah shook Nathan's hand and nodded towards Ezra. Nathan begrudgingly gave thanks to Ezra, his cellmate.

Chris leaned over and asked Buck why the kid wasn't over at juvie. Buck explained the kid was older than he looked, but still needed a guiding hand. Chris grinned and shook his head. Buck had found a baby brother to adopt.

Buck had noticed Chris and Vin standing shoulder to shoulder, creating a formidable wall. He was equally surprised when Chris allowed such close contact and silently admitted Vin into his space. Buck couldn't believe Chris was permitting a bond to form with the young man.

As word of the fight with the skinheads spread throughout the prison, inmates started taking up sides. Several of the inmates gravitated towards the bench area, where Chris Larabee took command of his followers, assuming the role as their leader.

JD sat with the men, feeling safer than he had felt in a long time. He glanced around the table and said, "Hey guys, let me tell you a joke about a three legged dog!"

Several groans could be heard around the table.

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER:

He was a big man; his six-foot frame held two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle. He ran his gang with an iron fist, taking what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, and dared the others to resist. He loved it when they resisted, loved taking them rough, loved hearing them beg for mercy. He enjoyed punishing those who dared question his tactics with a hard beating. Gordon Jenkins was not a man to mess with. He was serving two life sentences for rape and murder. He loved a good rape, craved it, actually. It was better than drugs. Yes, he was good at the rape, part. To have complete control over someone, to hold the key of their life or death in his hands, Jenkins found that a very exciting rush. It was the murder part he had trouble with. That was the part that got messy. Gordon just couldn't seem to get that part right. The fact that he was a coward was the reason.

Jenkins strolled along the hallway, headed for cellblock seven. He was a man on a mission and that mission was taking one of Larabee's gang, Vin Tanner. He'd seen Tanner in the yard recently and had salivated ever since. He'd heard of the Larabee gang, heard that Larabee was a psychotic sonofabitch, heard you never messed with him or his gang, not if you wanted to live. Word was Larabee didn't care if he lived or died, which made him a very dangerous man. A man with nothing to lose. His own gang members suffered his threats of death and Tanner was usually on the receiving end of those threats. Well, Jenkins was going to take Tanner off of Larabee's hands. This should be an easy job; Tanner didn't look real bright, was thin as a rail and, by the way he slouched, not too tough, either. He did, however, have the tightest ass Gordon had seen in a long time and that tight ass was all Jenkins was concerned about. He casually wondered if Larabee had taken Tanner yet. They were, after all cellmates, but he really didn't care. A virgin ass was a rarity in prison.

Gordon had plans for Tanner. First he was going to take that ass, make it his own. He wanted to hear Tanner beg and cry for mercy. Then he was going to make him his whore, rent him out to others for a few hours of fun. Once he was used up, Jenkins figured to sell him to someone else. If Tanner wasn't dead.

Maybe afterwards, he would go after Larabee. If Tanner was the prize, Larabee was certainly the gold medal, simply because he was so untouchable. Jenkins had watched Larabee strut down the corridor, head held high, the ultimate alpha male. His mouth watered at the thought of Larabee under him writhing in agony. Gordon reached the broom closet where he planned to wait for Tanner. He slipped quietly inside.

C7 ~ C7 ~ C7

Vin ambled along the hall towards the dayroom where he was to meet up with the guys. Even though it was Saturday and he was technically off, he'd gone over to help feed the animals he cared for. He had landed a great job with the Pets for Companions project and he didn't mind spending some of his free time taking care of the little critters. It gave him something to love, and he was loved unconditionally in return. Something he'd rarely had in his life.

As usual, his mind was on Chris Larabee. In the weeks he'd been incarcerated, things hadn't been too bad. God, he missed white water rafting at Big Bend and hiking in those beautiful mountains. He missed riding his horse over trails only they could see, but Vin figured he'd done the deed, so he excepted the punishment. Wasn't any way he could go back and undo what had been done. At least he could see the sunset from his cell, but no sunrise; he missed seeing that beautiful beginning of a new day. But all in all he was learning to live with it.

The real surprise had been Chris. Chris had become a good friend. At first, Vin was wary of this stranger. He had slept with one eye open, always on the alert. But nothing had happened. He'd expected Chris to be a real bastard and figured he'd try to take what Vin wasn't willing to give, but he hadn't. Tanner smirked to himself, not sure if he was happy about that or not.

He and Chris had struck up a friendship that was nothing like Vin had ever known. Oh, he growled at Vin and threathened to shoot him several times a day, but that was just Chris blowing off steam. After Chris had found out about his love of Snickers candy bars, Vin found one on his bed every few days. Once there had been a packet of Oreos and a carton of milk. When Vin questioned it, Chris said he hated Oreos and would never drink milk. Vin had really enjoyed that treat. The best was the blanket, though. Vin was used to the warm West Texas weather. The nights were cold in Colorado and Vin felt it deep in his bones. He just couldn't get warm at night. This prison was fairly new, and Vin wondered why they hadn't bought a better furnace. But he'd returned to their cell one evening a few weeks ago to find a new blanket folded up on his bunk. Chris told him that his shivering at night was getting on his nerves and keeping him awake. Vin had just grinned at Chris and said, "Thanks, cowboy." Chris had frowned and said, "Don't call me a cowboy, pard."

At night, after lockdown, they would share a quiet evening, Chris reading and Vin writing poetry in a notebook. Or Chris would write letters and Vin would read. They didn't need words to communicate. Vin could almost read Chris's mind and when Chris looked at him, it was as if Chris was seeing deep into his soul. Some of the others said it was spooky, but Vin just accepted it as he did everything else in his life.

These thoughts were running through his mind when suddenly he was jerked backwards by his hair and felt a hard blow to his lower back, driving the air from his body. His knees began to buckle, but before he could hit the floor, he was jerked upwards by his hair and slammed into the wall. He actually saw stars and his hands flew upwards and back, trying to free his hair from the vise that held it. He felt sick and figured he was going to throw up when someone's foul breath assulted his nose. Vin's face was pressed up against the wall and he moved his eyes to the left to see who was holding him.

C7 ~ C7 ~ C7

Chris, Buck, Ezra and Nathan were playing a friendly game of poker. JD sat behind Buck, reading a Louis L'Amour novel. Josiah was in the chapel. They had planned to meet up at noon and head for the mess hall for lunch. Chris checked the time and wondered where Vin was. He looked around the room, sighed and went back to playing his cards, but couldn't concentrate on them. Vin was late.

"He'll be here, Mr. Larabee," Ezra assured, noticing the distraction.

"He's late," Chris growled. "And this is no place to be late! Goddamned sorry assed Texan. Should let someone know where he's at."

"Now, Chris, Vin's a big boy and can take care of himself," Buck said.

Chris knew Vin could take care of himself under normal circumstances, but he couldn't fight off a gang. Chris shook himself, ignoring the feeling in his gut. Vin was okay, just probably stopped to talk to someone. They played another hand of cards. Chris checked the time again. Josiah walked into the room.

"Ready for lunch, brothers?" he asked. "Where's Vin?"

"You here already?" Buck asked, glancing at the clock.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Chris grumbled. "You guys finish your game. I'm going to look for him. We'll meet you in the mess hall." Chris threw his cards on the table, rose and walked out of the room in search of his friend. As one, everyone at the table rose and followed their leader. They had a lost brother to find.

C7 ~ C7 ~ C7

"You belong ta me now, Tanner. When I say bend over, I mean just that!" Jenkins spat. When I git through with you, you'll know who's boss. I own you!" He slammed Vin against the wall, again to ensure he got the message. He began trying to move Tanner into the broom closet where he'd have the advantage, but Vin wasn't moving. Vin almost felt sorry for this poor schmuck. First Chris was gonna kill the sonofabitch, then he was gonna kill him for getting caught unawares. Stupid, how could he be so stupid? He could feel blood running down his face and into his eyes. He knew he had to keep his wits about him. He had to stay away from that closet.

"Ain't nobody owns me and I ain't nobody's whore," Vin drawled through his split lip. He was struggling to get his hair free. He knew if he was forced into the broom closet, Jenkins would have the advantage.

"You're my whore, Tanner, Ya best remember that," Jenkins bragged.

Vin had his hand wrapped around the wrist that held his hair and, using the wall as leverage, he kicked backwards and connected with a shin. He heard a grunt of pain and kicked out again.

Jenkins slammed him into the wall for the third time. He was starting to feel dazed, but he knew this was a fight he couldn't afford to lose.

"Still got fight in ya, huh? I'm gonna have fun with you," Jenkins sneered.

Vin's strong fingers started to squeeze Jenkins' wrist. He continued his backward kicks as they seem to be connecting with Gordon's knees and shins. He could hear the grunts of pain as his boots hit their mark. The hold on his hair was beginning to loosen up.

Jenkins realized he was in serious trouble. He knew Tanner was in for the murder of two people. So he had no doubts, should Tanner free himself, he would also be dead. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Tanner was supposed to be easy prey, too terrified to fight back. Gordon didn't want to be in a fight where he was the loser. His bragging and bluster was all he had going for him and in the past it had worked. He picked his victims carefully and Tanner had fit the mold, but this time it hadn't worked. If only he could get this guy into the closet, into the small area, then he'd have the edge, but Tanner was not budging. If he lost his hold on the guy's hair, he was a goner. Jenkins tried to move his legs out of Tanner's reach, but that threw him off-balance. If he fell to the floor, he surely was a goner. He knew he was in a no-win situation.

Suddenly, quicker than a rattlesnake could strike, Jenkins was thrown into the opposite wall, a hand at his throat, cutting off his air. His hand still held Tanner's hair, so Vin was jerked back with Jenkins.

"Let him go!" Larabee hissed. Jenkins continued to hold Vin by his hair and, although the grip was less, Vin felt his hair was being torn out by its roots.

"I guess you didn't hear me, I said let go of him." Chris emphasized each word by slamming Jenkins into the wall. Gordon let go of Vin and tried to swing on Larabee. Tanner would have sank to the floor, but his friends were there to catch him.

"Let me take a look at ya," Nathan said.

Chris continued to squeeze Gordon's neck. "I ought ta kill you!" he said through clenched teeth. "Touch him again and I will!" he continued. Jenkins' face was red as he gasped for air.

"Chris, let 'em go," Buck said, his hand on Larabee's shoulder. "Don't kill him, Chris, let 'em go," Buck warned.

Chris set his mouth in a grimace with a murderous rage in his eye.

"If you kill him, Chris, you'll be shipped outta here. Who's going to watch Vin's back then? Think about it, pard, let him go," Buck reasoned.

Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calmed himself and eased up his grip. He let Jenkins free, stepped back and turned his attention to Vin.

Jenkins sank to the floor, trying to suck air back into his lungs, unable to believe he was alive.

"Is he all right?" Chris asked Nathan.

"He will be, Chris," Nathan answered. "Just some bruises, a cut lip and a cut above his eyebrow. I guess he'll be losing hair for a day or two," Nathan finished.

"He'll be okay," Buck assured.

Nathan checked Vin's eyes and said. "I don't think there's any concussion."

"I'm standin' right here, y' know," Vin growled. "I kin answer fer m'self. I'm fine! Jist gotta git some o' this blood washed off." Using the sink in the broom closet, he splashed water on his face.

Gordon Jenkins looked around him. All eyes were watching Tanner, and he figured this was his chance. He lunged up and forward, grabbing Larabee's neck, trying for a good hold. Chris elbowed him in the solar plexus. "Oomph," was all the noise he could make as he sank back to the floor, doubled over.

Larabee bent over, hauled Jenkins to his feet and pushed him into the wall.

"No, don't hurt me!" he begged. "I know things. I can tell you who's after the kid, there." He pointed at JD.

"What! Who? I'm telling ya, nobody had better touch that kid!" Buck retorted.

"What?" JD stammered at the same time.

"Don't worry kid, I won't let nothing happen to ya," Buck promised as he started to question Gordon.

Chris left Jenkins with Buck, turned and ask again, "You sure you're all right, Vin?"

"Reckon so," Vin rasped, rotating his neck and shoulders. He flinched and rubbed his back.

"Come on, Vin," Nathan said. "I've got some butterfly bandages and salve in my locker, I'll patch ya up. Why ya rubbing your back?"

"Much obliged," Vin said greatfully and they started walking towards his cell. "My back's fine, Nate."

"Wait up," Chris turned. "You guys have him?" He motioned at Jenkins.

"Yeah, but we're through with him if you are," Buck answered.

"Then get the hell out of my sight!" Chris snarled at Gordon.

"We'll get Vin fixed up and meet you guys for lunch in, say twenty minutes." Chris said to the others, turned and followed Nathan.

Chris could hear Nathan trying to get Vin to get checked out at the prison clinic, but Vin was telling Nathan he was fine.

Chris shook his head and grinned.

Gordon Jenkins, just happy to still be alive, skittered down the hallway, back towards his own cellblock.

SIX MONTHS LATER:

Chris sat in the dayroom, relaxed and comfortable. He leaned back in his chair, closed his book and looked around the table at the other members of his ragtag gang. He had been incarcerated about six months and had built a friendship with six other men who could make him gnash teeth on good days. He threathened to shoot them at least once a day, more often on bad days, which was funny considering where they were. He glanced at Vin and wondered about his feelings there. Being cellmates, they spent a lot of time together, but they shared more than just friendship. It was more like a meeting of the minds.

No one would ever figure Vin for a sensitive guy. He had an outer shell that was tougher than cowhide. After reading some of his poetry, though, Chris was convinced that Vin possessed a caring inner soul that could only be seen by someone willing to look beneath the outer layer. That had surprised him about Vin. Poetry! Who would ever believe it? Yet he had several notebooks in his locker filled with his writings. Chris had asked what he was writing about one evening, and had been humbled when Vin had asked, sheepishly, if he'd like to read some of it.

Another thing that surprised Chris was his need to give Vin these little treats. The first time was just by chance. He'd bought a Snickers bar at the commissary. They were having a two-for-one sale and Chris had brought Vin the free one. The look in Vin's eyes had amazed him. Vin had asked, "Fer me?" And Chris had said, "Sure, pard." Vin had said quietly, gratitude thick in his voice, "Thanks, cowboy." Vin had been shocked to find the Oreos and milk on his bunk. And Vin had touched and held that blanket like it was gold.

Chris looked around the table again. After Jenkins had attacked Vin, Chris had tried to keep an eye on him, but in this place it was impossible. And anyway, Vin would resent it if he had known. There was something calming about Vin. No matter how black his mood, how upset or stressed out he was, sitting quietly with Vin was as soothing to him as a balm. Whether Vin was chanting, meditating or just sitting in the dayroom drinking coffee, Chris just felt better after spending quiet time with him. Chris couldn't figure it out. He didn't know if it was because Vin just took things as they came, accepted the good with the bad without question, or if it was some inner peace Vin was privy to that he and the others hadn't yet learned. Or was it the ability to throw off the bad and hold on to the good, even in this place where danger lurked around every corner?

Vin would amble along, sort of slouched, a smirk on his face as if he had no cares in the world. In the beginning, some had thought he was soft, slow, an easy mark, but he had proved them wrong.

Word had spread pretty quickly after the dust-up with Jenkins. Most inmates gave all of them a wide path now. Of course, Jenkins had lost his sand and his gang had dropped him as their leader.

Larabee could have cared less. As long as they stayed away from him, his pards and especially Vin, he didn't care what they did.

Chris's train of thought was interrupted. Vin was laughing at something Ezra had said. He wondered about that friendship. Vin was working class, Ezra was white collar. They had nothing in common, yet had adopted a friendship that defied reason. Of course, that could be said of all seven of them. There were several others that made up the gang, but the seven of them held it together and had become the heart of the group.

Chris knew he had been looking at Vin in a different way. It just seemed to Chris to be a natural progression of their friendship. It had been almost a year since he'd been with anyone. Ella's trial had lasted several months and sex had been the last thing on his mind at the time. Then, there was his trial and here he was, so really, no opportunity.

Vin really did have a terrific body. Sleek, powerful, slim and graceful. But, if Vin was interested, he'd let him know and really there was no hurry. Chris figured he'd take a wait and see attitude. He shook his head and laughed at his own foolishness. He really had been in here too long if he was checking out Vin's body.

He and Buck had landed good jobs. He was part of the 'Colorado Wild Horse' inmate program. Buck had been drafted to help set up the cattle ranch. Wyoming had a similar cattle ranch program that had been so successful, Colorado decided to try out their own. He and Buck had experience with ranching, so their involvement was not surprising at all.

This was a new facility with modern ways and like-minded managers to run it. Of course, there would always be idiots, like Jenkins, that would try and mess things up for everyone.

Chris grinned to himself. This was Sunday, so there would be something special for supper. He opened his book and continued reading. He covertly glanced at Vin again. Vin and Buck were teasing each other over something JD had said. Yep, right now things were all right in his world.

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER:

Vin lay in his bed, blankets up to his chin and wrapped around him, but he still felt cold. It seemed his body could not generate enough heat to keep him warm. He hated Colorado! Nothing good had happened to him here. Okay, maybe some good, but not much, he grinned to himself. He always slept in sweats to hold the heat inside his body, but it didn't help. Having another body next to him would've helped, but Spring was on its way, so maybe he'd warm up then.

He could hear Chris moving around on his bunk, below. He wondered what it would be like to be with Chris. He sighed, thinking about it. He liked and respected Chris and thought Chris liked him as well. He'd noticed Chris checking him out, but so far he had said nothing.

Chris was plagued with some terrible nightmares. Sometimes, Vin would be woken by Chris's tossing and turning. Afterwards, they would sit together so Chris could stay awake. 'Maybe I'll buy Chris a new blanket,' Vin thought ruefully. The man could use some warming up too, it seemed. They hadn't been in here quite a year yet, but had developed a friendship as strong as the distant mountains.

Wherein lay the problem. Vin had noticed Chris checking him out, but had been disappointed that there was no follow up. Vin grumbled to himself. Crazy blackhearted sonofabitch walked around with that 'my way or the highway' look clouding his face, just daring someone to try and knock that block off his shoulder, and what did Vin get? Nothing! The least Larabee could do was to be a little more aggressive towards him, Vin thought. Maybe grab him from behind...

No that wouldn't work, he hated to be grabbed and never from behind. Maybe Chris could push him down on his bunk and demand... No, that wouldn't work. That would just get my dander up and then we'd be fighting. Wait, maybe Chris could put his hands on him, rub his shoulders and... No, that wouldn't work. Chris already did that but nothing else.

Vin grumbled to himself some more. Dang it! He could go to Chris, Vin thought, but would that give Chris to much power over him? Vin wasn't sure about that, but Chris thinking he was in charge was just not a good thing. The man already took the word 'control' way over the top and used it to his advantage whenever he could. Vin knew he could trust Chris, but he'd have to be sure to keep things even. Hell, the least Chris could do was meet him halfway, Vin thought, still grumbling. Okay, he'd go to Larabee, see what happened.

Vin leaned over the side of his bunk.

"Chris?" he whispered.

"Hmmm," came the sleepy reply.

"I'm cold," Vin drawled quietly.

He heard Chris sigh and a minute later ask, "You want to come down here?"

"I reckon," Vin replied.

Chris sighed again and said, "Well, come on, then."

Vin left his bunk and crawled in with Chris, dragging his blankets and pillow with him. He curled up in the bottom bunk, his back to Larabee.

"Goddamn it, Tanner, you crawl through a freezer on your way down here?" Chris growled.

"I told ya I's cold," Vin defended.

Chris wrapped the blankets around them, laid his arm over Tanner's waist and settled down to sleep. Tanner snuggled up next to the warm body and waited for something to happen. And waited, and waited some more.

Finally Vin flipped over in the bed and drawled quietly, "Dammit, cowboy, what's a feller got ta do ta git noticed 'round here?"

Vin heard Larabee chuckle. "You want to be noticed, pard?" Chris asked with a smirk.

Vin nibbled on Larabee's Adams apple, then started to suck on his throat.

"Don't be startin' something ya ain't willing to finish," Chris admonished, kissing the top of Vin's head. His one arm was holding Vin at the back and the other hand cupped the back of his head.

"I'm willin'!" Tanner whispered softly.

Tanner placed his leg over Larabee's hip, bringing their bodies into alignment, and rubbed gently against him. Vin heard Chris gasp and knew instantly the smirk was gone from Chris's face. He would have laughed if he wasn't so close to the edge, himself. He snuggled closer.

Chris's hand was under his shirt and one hand was playing with his ass cheek, caressing it lightly. Vin noticed Chris was in a t-shirt and boxers.

"You have to lose some of these clothes, pard," Chris whispered and began removing Vin's shirt along with his own t-shirt. Their lips met, tentatively at first, then more deeply, and finally both mouths opened, inviting the other in to play. Vin's arms were wrapped around Chris. Chris slipped Tanner's pants down and cupped his ass, bringing Vin closer to him. They rubbed their cocks together as their lips and tongues were playing with each other, laving ears, earlobes, necks and mouths. Vin whimpered and Chris groaned in arousal. Chris's light touches and caresses were sending sensations through Vin's body that he couldn't remember ever experiencing with Charlotte. He shivered.

Chris murmured, "You okay?" Vin gave a slight nod and continued to suck on Larabee's mouth. Breathing hard, Chris decided to explore Vin's body. Chris latched on to a hard nipple with his teeth and Vin almost shouted. He thought he was going to cum right there. Every nerve ending in his body was singing with passion.

"Shhh, Vin, we have to be quiet," Chris whispered, caressing Vin's cheek with his thumb.

"I know, I know," Vin answered, trying to breathe.

Chris slipped Vin's sweats the rest of the way off, took off his own boxers and dropped them next to their bunk. He rubbed his thumb over Vin's rosy bud and kissed the left one. He slid slowly down the beautiful body and nipped at the navel, biting the edges lightly, then dipped his tongue into the tiny crevice. Vin stuck the corner of the pillow into his mouth to keep himself from crying out with passion and rubbed up against Larabee's body. Chris continued his downward path, kissing and biting as he went. He touched Vin's swollen cock, running his thumb over the purple head, then squeezed the hard thick shaft. Tanner whimpered again as Larabee sucked the hard cock into his mouth and let his tongue play with the prominent vein.

"Chris, please." Vin shuddered, quietly begging for release. Chris held his hips tight, dropped the cock from his mouth and began to kiss Vin's body as he eased himself back up the cot, taking Vin in his arms and kissing him passionately.

"Still cold?" Chris asked.

"Ain't sure I'll ever be cold again," Vin whispered back.

Chris kissed him and moved off the bed. Vin felt the loss, but Chris was right back with a jar of something.

"Something to ease the way," he explained. Rising to his knees, Chris opened the lid and scooped out some of the Petroleum Jelly he'd bought and tried to warm it up.

"We have to be real quiet now, Vin, we don't want an audience." Whispering, he oiled up Vin's cock, then his own, almost cuming on the spot. He moved to Tanner's balls and the secret place behind them, caressing gently. He reached the little oval and inserted one finger and moved it around, then two, and stretched. He bent over, kissed Vin and inserted a third digit. He placed his body between Vin's legs, placed them over his thighs with a pillow at Vin's back. Chris knew he wouldn't last long since he could already feel the powerful emotions surging through his body. He waited a few minutes to calm himself.

He kissed Vin passionately and whispered, "I won't hurt you, but you need ta relax. Okay?"

"I'll t...try," Vin whispered back.

For privacy, Chris draped a blanket across his back and shoulders, shielding Vin and himself from prying eyes. "Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," he replied.

Chris worked his hard dick into Vin's tiny entrance and gasped. Vin sucked in his breath. Larabee leaned over and said, "Relax, pard." Vin let out the breath he'd been holding, causing Chris to slip further inside the tight channel. He held himself in check until Vin whispered, "Move, Chris, move."

Thus, they began their dance. Chris let his cock slide inside Vin, up to his balls, then pulled out to start their dance again. Vin grabbed Chris's hips, pulling him closer in an attempt to get Chris deeper and to move faster. Chris, however, would not be rushed, and bent over to savor another passion-filled kiss while his body enjoyed the tight hole his dick was engulfed in.

Vin was reeling from desire and flames coursing through his body. Chris took hold of Vin's hard member and started to jerk him off to the same rhythm their bodies were moving to. Chris's own movements sped up, and a feeling of wonder spread from his belly to his balls. Vin's juices spewed, just as Chris's emptied deep within the confines of Vin's bowels. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony until their passion was spent.

Vin had placed the corner of his pillow in his mouth to keep from shouting out in bliss, while Chris whimpered, placed his head on Vin's belly and kissed it tenderly as he cried silently in ecstacy. Chris pulled out gently and gathered Vin in his arms, placed his leg over Vin's hip and hugged him closer. Both men still trying to get their breathing under control.

After a few minutes, Chris asked, "Are you okay? Was it good for you?"

Vin nodded and tried to pull away, but Larabee held him close. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you, Vin?" Larabee asked.

Unfamiliar emotions were running through Vin and he was unsure how to answer. "I'm ok', cowboy, j...jist never felt nothin' like that b'fore, is all." Vin snuggled closer to Chris. "Good jist don't seem ta cover it," he finished.

"I'm glad it was good for you, pard. Next time you do the honors," Chris grinned.

"Yeah? I was wonderin'."

"We're in this together, Vin, you and me, we're partners." Chris smiled, kissed Vin and retrieved his t-shirt. "I was wondering when you were going to make a move on me," Chris smirked. He cleaned them up and tossed the shirt aside.

"Asshole!" Vin muttered and settled down to sleep. Chris laughed and spooned up behind him to sleep.

A few months later, Chris was sleeping through the night, the bad dreams gone.

TWENTY YEARS LATER:
Epilogue

Vin Tanner sat in the front pew of the prison chapel with Chris and JD. He'd had a lifetime of hiding his emotions, sometimes even from Chris. He refused to break down now, though he was close to it.

The casket was a nice one and Josiah looked good in his new suit. Josiah had died peacefully in his sleep a few days ago. Vin was glad he didn't suffer, but had slipped quietly away as he slept. Josiah would be cremated later in the day and Buck would be here in a few days to pick up the remains. A small funeral, with the seven of them, would be held in a few months.

Vin leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. Josiah had been a true friend to him. Always there if he needed to talk, always ready to listen and give friendly advice and was never judgmental. He had loved Josiah like a father and could sit for hours listening to some story or parable he was telling.

Josiah had saved Vin's life a few years ago, too. Vin had jumped in to save an inmate that was being beaten by several others and had ended up stabbed himself. Josiah had stopped the fight and stemmed the flow of blood until the medical team had arrived. He then had arranged for Chris to visit while he recovered in the hospital.

Everyone knew and trusted Josiah. He held prayer meetings, counselled prisoners and took their problems onto his shoulders. He had worked out animosities between the rival factions many times, avoiding clashes that would solve nothing.

Several laws had changed over the years. One had dictated that all prisoners who had served three-quarters of their sentence, with good behavior, were to be paroled. This edict included lifers. The first time Josiah had been given the chance for parole, Vin had hoped he wouldn't go, but then afterwards had confessed to Josiah and asked for forgiveness. Josiah just smiled at him and explained, "Vin, a shepherd never leaves his flock and you and the other inmates are all part of my flock. This is my calling, Vin, there is no one else here to take my place if I should leave."

"Hell, Josiah," Vin had said, "that ain't true. There's a whole slew o' parsons willin' ta come in and help ya out."

"Would you go to another pastor, Vin?"

"No," Vin drawled, ashamed of his confession.

"You see, Vin, in order to understand a con's problems, you have to be a con," Josiah had assured. "You needn't ever worry that I'll leave you, brother, because I won't," Josiah had continued.

But Josiah had left him, well, all of them. Never again would he see Josiah smile, laugh or tell one of his stories. He felt Chris's hand on his back, giving comfort, rubbing little circles with his thumb, reminding Vin he was there for him. Like he needed reminding, Vin thought ruefully. He had loved Chris for twenty years and would love him twenty more, he hoped.

C7 ~ C7 ~ C7

Chris could see that Vin was taking Josiah's death very hard. He laid a hand on Vin's back, reminding him he wasn't alone. Vin and Josiah had forged a strong friendship with Josiah taking the role of father figure. The only time he'd seen Vin come close to tearing up was the night they had discussed the possibilty of Josiah leaving. Chris had held him close, assuring Vin that Josiah would not leave those who counted on him.

"I'm jist selfish," Vin had declared.

"There's nothing selfish about you," Chris had whispered back, holding Vin close to him. "Josiah is needed here and he knows that."

Vin had relaxed a little, but the following day he had gone to talk to Josiah about it.

Well, Josiah had left them, but through no fault of his own. He looked at peace in his casket, younger than his seventy-plus years. Chris hoped he looked that good when his time came. He rubbed his chest, a habit he had picked up after his heart attack.

He thought about the other members of their group. Nathan had left about ten years ago. The first to leave, he'd left with a medical degree and a license to practice medicine. He had attended medical school in the prison hospital. A small town, downstate, had sponsored Nathan's parole efforts. He was now the Chief of Surgery at the growing hospital. After his parole was over, Nathan had been offered a lucrative position at a Denver hospital, but had elected to stay with the people he was indebted to.

The next to leave was Buck. Though Buck was in his mid sixties, he was still in good health and condition, thanks to the cattle ranch program he had run here at the prison.

Shortly after Buck, Ezra was paroled. Ezra and Buck shared a small house in the foothills. Ezra was in his early sixties, but like Buck, had taken good care of himself. Buck now worked with the horses at a large dude ranch outside of Denver. Ezra worked there, also, but Chris wasn't sure in what capacity.

Years ago, ex-cons could not associate with each other, but many laws had changed. As long as no crimes were committed, friendships were continued outside of prison. Chris could remember when gay and lesbian couples were looked down on, now it was simply an alternate lifestyle. Paid no more attention too than a hetrosexual couple.

JD would be leaving in a few days. He had met and married a prison groupie, named Casey. JD had taken a lot of classes in electronics and computers, so Chris felt he would do good on the outside. Casey's aunt was giving JD a manager's job in her small business. Prison marriages were almost destined to fail, but Josiah had married the couple and had continued to counsel them afterwards, about the pitfalls of prison unions. Chris really hoped the couple made it and held out hope that they would. JD was young, though, not quite forty. Maybe Casey's aunt would keep the young couple on track.

Vin would be next, scheduled to be released in two months. Vin had resisted leaving, afraid to leave him, but Chris was having none of that. He had finally convinced Vin to take the parole, set up their living quarters and wait for his release. They were to be working with Buck and Ezra on the dude ranch. A small cabin had already been assigned to them and Vin needed to get outside, breathe free air, watch a sunset and savor a sunrise. Chris had loved Vin for many years and it hurt him to see Vin so restless and stressed.

Vin's poetry had been published for many years, now. The royalities went to the state of Colorado for his upkeep, but there was a little left over and Chris wanted Vin to buy himself a horse.

Chris had a scheduled release date in four months. He was sixty-six, now. He still had a full head of hair, but it was completely silver gray. He still worked with the horses and his body was fit. When he'd had his heart attack, he was afraid he'd never regain his strength, but with hard work he was back one hundred percent. He remembered feeling like he had indigestion, told Vin he was going to lie down, the next thing he knew, he was in a hospital, hooked up to several machines and Vin looking like death. Chris's first thought was that Vin had died and he was looking at a vision or ghost. They cleared that up quick enough! Chris smiled at the memory.

Vin had added about twenty pounds to his frame over the years, which filled him out nicely. Vin's hair was salt and pepper, now, and he looked older than his forty-three years. Prison had been hard on Vin. In the beginning, he appeared to have accepted it, but as the years passed by his restless spirit called out to be free. Years of looking over his shoulder, of being locked up, trapped in a cage had worked on Vin's nerves and nearly killed his spirit. Yeah, he wanted Vin to be free.

Chris sighed heavily. It had been a long twenty years and sometimes he wondered if it had been worth it. Looking back, however, there was nothing he would have done differently, so yes, it had to be worth it!

JD nudged Chris. He looked over to see the guards waiting to take them back to their cellblock. He patted Vin's back.

Vin looked over at the guards, knew it was time to go back. He sighed, rose and touched the side of the coffin. "We'll have a real send off fer ya, Josiah," he drawled.

JD and Chris rose as well. Touching the casket, JD said, "Bye Josiah." Chris ran his hand along the side of the coffin, "Bye old friend," he said.

Buck was picking up the remains in a few days and, once they were back together, they would scatter the ashes.

JD, Chris and Vin followed the guards out of the chapel door.

END

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