Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, have no rights to 'em. Watson and those folks created them. Mog created the ATF AU. Heaven only knows who created slash. My thanks to them all.

Warnings: Language. Explicit m/m sex. Violence of a sexual nature, including rape. If this bothers you, please go read something else. This is written to celebrate Halloween, so expect some other surprises, but don't expect it to fit in a neat little package.

Notes: Written for those missing out on adult Christastrophes. . . 'specially Winnie. There is some Vinjury, too.

Characters: Chris and Vin in full C/V mode and a rather nasty OMC. Appearances will be put in by the other five. . . eventually.

========================= <C/V> =============================

Chris Larabee entered his home through the kitchen, groaning as he pushed the door closed. He was worn out and glad to see the end of a very long work week. He was looking forward to spending a nice, quiet evening, wrapped in his lover's arms.

A smile tugged at his lips at the thought of his partner. In the eight months Vin had lived with him at his little ranch, Tanner had made his once quiet life one filled with excitement. Then he frowned as it registered in his tired mind that the house was dark. The younger man had charmed him into letting him go home early, promising to make it worth his while.

"Vin?" he called into the darkness. Then he started as someone slipped from the shadows. As the figure drew closer, he chuckled. "Hey, stud, what's the occasion?"

Tanner was dressed in a long sleeve novelty tee-shirt, decorated to resemble a tuxedo, complete with ruffled shirt and bow tie. The only other thing he wore was a black, leather-look, thong. Chris noted with a soft growl, that the pouch of the sexy apparel was pulled tight by the swollen cock it barely restrained.

"Jist thought I'd make yer homecomin' somethin' ta remember," the slender man drawled as he moved forward with catlike grace. Stopping in front of the older man, he slid his arms up Larabee's chest and wrapped his arms around the strong neck. "How 'm I doin' so far?"

With a growl that turned into a groan, the blond said, "Reckon I'll remember this for quite some time." Leaning forward, he captured the other man's broad mouth, tugging gently at the full lower lip. One hand slipped around the narrow waist, while the other crept down to cup the heavy, black covered bulge.

Vin nipped at the shallow dip in his lover's lower lip, shifting away from the groping hand. Leaning back, he said, "ah, ah, ah. . . don't be playin' with yer dessert 'fore ya eat yer dinner."

Dropping his head to the other man's wide shoulder, Larabee moaned. "Whatever it is, better be damned good if you're going to make me wait for this." With a final, gentle squeeze, he let his hand drop.

Moving back, Vin took hold of his lover's hand and began to lead him into the dining room. "Well, reckon you'll have ta be the judge of that, but even if it ain't, it'll give ya the strength ta git through dessert."

Moaning once more as the meaning of the younger man's words sank in, Chris said softly, "feel like I'm being led to my last meal."

They moved into the dining room, where one end of the table was dressed with a while linen table cloth, topped with crystal and china. Two candles shed light upon the two place settings. The plates held grilled chicken, brown rice, and steamed vegetables. A basket of rolls and a bottle of wine completed the picture.

They sat down, Chris at the end of the table, and Vin on his right. They ate dinner, each man using one hand, while their other hands were entwined, long fingers laced together.

As soon as they had finished, Larabee tugged at Tanner's hand. "Ready for my dessert," he said in a voice heavy with desire.

Smiling, the younger man pushed away from table, came around to where the blond sat, and straddled the older man's lap. Crossing his arms over the high back of the chair, he leaned down and practically purred, "would ya like it with some whipped cream. . . or ya want it plain?"

"Anything says I can't have it both ways?" Chris' hands slid down the long back, squeezing the other man's ass. Then one finger slid beneath the black material, tracing a path along the man's crack. He teased the puckered flesh of Tanner's hole, but didn't enter it. He smiled as his actions had Vin squirming all ready, his breathing growing more and more rapid. "You're a mite over dressed, pard. How about shedding some clothes?"

Vin growled seductively, pulled himself from his lover's lap and stood up. Hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband, he slid the black thong down, and stepped out of it. He returned to his seat on Chris' lap, this time with his back against the man's broad chest.

Larabee ran his hands along the long legs that were sprawled over his, caressing the well muscled flesh of Vin's thighs, toward the bulging sacs and heavy cock that arched away from his body. Circling them, he slid past Tanner's cock and upward, crossing his arms as they slipped beneath the man's shirt, finding the already swelling nipples hidden there. He smiled as his lover moaned, shifting on his lap as his body throbbed with need. He sucked at an earlobe, then licked and kissed his way down the long neck to suckle the hollow at its base.

"Oh. . . Jesus, ol' man. . . yer killin' me here." Vin groaned as Chris continued torturing him with hands and mouth. He squirmed, trying to find some position that would relieve the exquisite pain he was suffering. Nothing worked, and he knew there would only be one thing that brought relief. "Damn it Lar'bee. . . git me off all ready!"

The blond chuckled and continued to tease his lover for a few more minutes before, finally, moving in. One hand wrapped itself around the thickly swollen cock, while the other began kneading the bulging sacs below.

"OH! Oh. . . yeah. . . yeah," Vin's body tensed, trembling with desire as his lover continued stroking him. "Ahhhhh. . . Jesus! Oh damn. . . CHRIS!"

Larabee continued pumping Tanner's cock as it spewed forth its come, milking the emptying sacs at the same time. He nuzzled against the younger man's neck, growling, "Oh yeah. . . you feel sooooo good."

Panting, Vin collapsed against his lover, sighing contentedly. Then he smiled as he felt the other man's cock pressing hard against his back. "Hmm. . . looks like somebody's ready fer seconds."

Chris growled in Tanner's ear. "Hell that was your dessert. . . now I want mine."

Vin pushed himself off the blond's lap, turned, and dropped to his knees. With slightly trembling fingers he loosened Larabee's belt, then unfastened his dress slacks. Pinching the man's thigh, he coaxed him to lift himself off the chair enough that he could slip his pants and boxers down, discarding them along with his loafers and socks. He groaned at the sight of his partner's cock surging up from the next of dark blond curls. "Hell, this here's my dessert."

The blond reached out, carding his fingers through the long, loose curls as he coaxed his lover forward. Vin took his cock into his mouth, sliding his lips along the hard, heated flesh. He moaned as he was consumed, the younger man taking him in all the way to the root. "Ahhhh. . . oh damn you're. . . you're good."

Tanner continued sucking, and then slid his mouth back up along the thick shaft until all he held was the thick head. Releasing that, he ran his tongue down along the thick vein that ran the length of Larabee's cock, and then sucked his way back up. Letting go of the man's dick completely, he moved to where the swollen balls lay tight against his body. Taking first one and then the other into his mouth, he sucked them, running his tongue over the soft fur.

Chris was arched back in the chair, his feet planted wide on the floor, one on either side of his partner. Hands now clamped around the edge of the chair's seat, he gripped the wood as he moaned his pleasure. "Now. . . Vin. . . oh, God. . . NOW!"

Vin returned to the throbbing shaft, taking it in until he felt it slide down his throat. He sucked harder and harder on the thick flesh, and then, pressing his hands against the straining thighs, he swallowed. Once, twice, three times, he swallowed, hearing the other man's inarticulate cries of ecstasy as he did. Then the seated man bucked, thrusting himself against him. Tanner wondered abstractly if he was going to have to see a dentist as Larabee thrashed wildly in his grasp. Undaunted, he continued sucking at the jerking cock, even as it emptied its seed down the back of his throat. He took the man's balls in hand, milking them to empty the man completely.

Finally, allowing the wilted shaft to slide from his mouth, he leaned back on his heels, looking up into the flushed face of his lover. Chris lay slumped on the chair, chest heaving from exertion. Tanner reached up, stroking a hand over the man's face. "Ya still with me, Cowboy?"

Smiling down into the handsome face, Larabee sighed, "always."

"Good, 'cause we ain't near done, yet."

The blond moaned. "Lord, help me."

Pushing himself to his feet, the younger man reached out and pulled his lover after him. Stopping only long enough to blow out the candles, he led Chris into the den, where a fire burned merrily in the fireplace. A thick comforter and several pillows lay on the floor before the hearth, a second bottle of wine chilling nearby. Standing beside the blanket, Vin pulled his tee-shirt off, following it with Chris' shirt and tie. Both men stood completely naked now, their matching, golden nipple rings catching the light from the flames.

Together they dropped to the floor, stretching out side by side on the blanket.

Wrapping a hand around the back of the younger man's neck, Chris whispered, "Reckon you're right. . . I did need to build up my strength."

Leaning forward, Vin answered him by pressing his lips against the slightly opened mouth.

<C/V>

Their lovemaking continued on into the night, ending only when both men were too exhausted to continue. The morning sun sent its gentle rays into the bedroom only to find the couple laying in a boneless sprawl, a tangle of long limbs and well toned bodies. Vin lay with his head pillowed on Chris' chest, a contented expression on his handsome face. Larabee had one arm wrapped around the slender body, likewise an expression of contentment on his face.

They woke in the late morning, blinking into the sunshine and greeting one another with a kiss. Pulling himself from the bed, Vin padded out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a pair of mugs, filled with steaming coffee. They settled against the headboard, Tanner once more cradled in Larabee's embrace, while they drank the rich brew. Afterwards, they moved into the bathroom, where they showered together.

Emerging from the steamy stall, they toweled off, Chris initiating the first conversation since the night before. "I've got to go check out the old Dennison place this afternoon. You want to go with me, or stay here?"

"Ain't lettin' ya outta my sight, cowboy, " Tanner growled. "'Sides, I wanna check the place out, too."

"Don't think it's going to be all that exciting. From what the realtor said, it's been empty for a good fifteen years."

Shrugging his shoulders, Vin said, "don't matter none. I'm curious ta see what this place looks like, seein' as Travis figgers it'd be a good place ta hold him and Evie's Halloween bash and all."

"Well, knowing the Judge, he'll have it looking like something out of Spook and Garden by Halloween night." Chris quipped.

"Yeah. . . well, c'mon, let's go. Reckon we can stop on the way, and you can buy me breakfast."

With a chuckle, the blond said, "I'll buy yours if you'll buy mine."

Favoring his lover with a broad smile, Vin said, "deal. . . yer jist havin' toast 'n coffee. . . right?"

Chris rolled his eyes. His subordinate and life mate was almost always broke. It didn't matter; he made enough to support them both comfortably. He knew where Vin's money went, and loved the younger man even more for it. Much of Tanner's paycheck went to support the Youth Center back in Purgatorio, and even more of it found its way into the hands of one former neighbor or another. The Texan wasn't a fool, he loaned nothing to anyone who might end up using it for alcohol, drugs, or any other illicit pastimes. Those who were making an effort to better their lives, though, knew that Vin Tanner was usually good for a 'loan'.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Larabee said, "right. Now, let's get on the road."

<C/V>

They stopped at Bev's Café, and then drove farther away from the city, into the sparsely populated countryside. Vin was slouched in the passenger seat of Chris' black Ram, sunglasses hiding closed eyes. The picture of contentment, Tanner seemed truly and completely relaxed.

Shaking his head, the blond let the stereo keep him company, the low strains of soft jazz filling the cab and easing the slight headache two bottles of wine had bestowed upon him.

The drive up to the Dennison estate was long and winding, the paved path nearly obliterated by a thick carpet of fall leaves from more than one season it appeared. Making a note that they would have to make certain it was clear by Halloween night, he continued on toward the big house. Reaching it, he pulled the truck to a stop before the old mansion.

The estate had been placed for sale by the last living Dennison several years earlier, but there was little interest and no serious bids. The house sat empty, with only the barest of care throughout that time. Hearing about it, Orrin and Evie Travis had inquired about using it for their annual Halloween fundraising event. Having to go out of town, Travis left the details to Larabee, trusting the younger man to make a final decision and negotiate an agreement with the real estate agency.

Slapping his dozing partner's knee, Larabee said, "wake up sleeping beauty, we're here."

Stretching catlike, Vin yawned and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. Looking at the big home, he drawled, "Damn. . . it sure as hell looks like a haunted house."

Smiling, Chris answered, "Maybe that's why its still on the market. . . the former residents are putting up a fuss at the place being sold out of the family."

Feigning a shiver, Tanner said, "Ya keep up talk like that, yer gonna have ta hold me all the way through the place."

Leering at his partner, Larabee said, "Think that could be arranged, even if you're not scared."

The two men shared a laugh as they exited the big truck. The blond produced a key, and led the way to the front door. Unlocking it, he pushed the door opened, both men shuddering when the wood creaked with just the proper amount of drama. Looking over at the other man, he said, "Well, it sounds haunted anyway."

<C/V>

They had walked through each room of the ground floor, Chris making notes from time to time about things that would cause a problem or that made the house appealing for holding the Hallowe'en Gala here. As they made their way up to and through the second story, Tanner began to flirt with his older lover. He reached out and took the other man's hand, lacing his fingers through Larabee's.

Chris savored that little bit of intimacy, so often denied them. He squeezed the warm hand in his, moving a little closer to the younger man. They finished touring the second floor, and walked toward the narrow staircase that led toward the third story.

Eyeing the dusty stairs, Vin frowned. "Ya think we need ta go up there? Looks ta be jist an attic."

Guessing that the other man's claustrophobia was coloring his view, Larabee said, "You can wait here if you want. You're probably right, but you know Travis. We'd better give him a full report, just in case."

Heaving a sigh, the Texan said, "all righty, then, let's go and git it over with."

Larabee smiled and led the way.

At the top of the stairs, they found the walk well worth it. The door opened upon a large room, the walls on three of the four sides walled in glass. While the glass was dusty, it let in the soft light of late afternoon, and looked out upon a beautiful view of the gardens that surrounded the house, and the woods beyond. All of it had grown wild, a fury of brilliant colors.

Vin found himself drawn to the glass, brushing his hand across it as he stared out at the beauty. "Damn."

Coming up behind his partner, Chris slid his arms around the narrow waist, leaning his chin on one shoulder as he looked at the wilderness as well. "You got that right. . . damn."

They stood for several minutes, simply admiring the wonder of nature. Then, Tanner slid around in his partner's embrace, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. Without a word, he pressed his lips against Larabee's, teasing at them and nipping at the gracefully curved lower one. Sighing contentedly, he tightened his hold, resting his head on the blond's broad shoulder.

Larabee wrapped his arms around Tanner's trim waist, one hand gently rubbing up and down the other man's back. He laid his head atop Tanner's, an echoing sigh escaping his lips. They stood for several more minutes, simply drinking in the feel of their bodies meshed together.

Finally breaking apart, they started back toward the door, once more hand in hand. Then Larabee's attention was caught by the king-sized, four poster bed in one corner. Without a word, he changed direction, pulling Vin along behind him.

"Lar'bee, what the hell. . . uh. . . pard. . . whattaya thinkin'?" He took in the glint in the green-hazel eyes, and knew exactly what his lover was thinking. "Chris. . . do ya think it's wise. . . I mean, if someone'd happen ta come up here. . ."

Smiling, Larabee said, "no one's been here for months, maybe years. There's no reason to think they'd choose today to visit." That said, he pulled the dust laden sheet and plastic cover off the bed, revealing the bare mattress below.

Turning back toward his partner, the blond reached out and snagged the man's tee shirt, pulling it up and off the lean frame. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to one of Vin's nipples, sucking at the brown nub.

"Ah. . . shit," the Texan moaned as his lover's actions sent ripples of desire through his body. His hands wove their way through the thick blond hair, holding the other man's head to his chest. "Yer gonna. . . oh. . . gonna make an ol' man. . . outta. . . outta. . .outta me yet."

Chris moved away from the tanned chest, leaning back to regard his lover. He reached down and unfastened the tight blue jeans, grinning lecherously at the younger man. He quickly had Tanner stripped, the lean body turned golden by the incoming light. In a tone of near worship, he said, "oh, Jesus. . . you're beautiful."

Larabee smiled as the Texan began to blush under his close scrutiny, the pink tint spreading over the trim form. He kept his eyes on the younger man while he pulled his own clothes off, both men soon standing naked and vulnerable in the sun drenched room.

Together they moved to the bed, stretching out on the mattress. Each man began exploring the others body, stroking, teasing and pinching as each moved over every inch of the other. Both men were soon hard, their bodies aching for release.

Chris coaxed Vin onto his back, kneeling between the well muscled, tanned, outstretched legs. Reaching down, he stroked and rubbed at Tanner's tight hole, teasing at it in an effort to relax the puckered flesh. His eyes took in his lover's face, slightly unfocused eyes staring back at him, the black pupils nearly consuming the blue of the irises. Tanner's long fingers clawed at the mattress in anticipation.

Spitting on his hand for lack of other lubricant, the blond ran it over his pulsing cock. Pulling Vin's legs up over his shoulders, he lifted the tight ass off the bed and pressed the head of his shaft against the waiting hole. Gripping the narrow hips, he pushed forward, impaling his lover on his heavy cock.

Vin cried out, arching against the burning and cramping sensations that threatened to overwhelm him.

Rubbing his thumbs against the straining body, Chris crooned softly, "Sh, it's okay. . . relax, give into it."

Vin quickly accommodated to the feelings, and accepted the fullness willingly. As he did, he reached up, stroking a hand over the beloved face above him. His legs thrust upward a bit, drawing his lover farther inside him. Then he gasped as he felt the other man's hand close around his own swollen cock.

Time suspended its passage as the two men dwelled in that place meant only for them. Larabee thrust himself into Tanner, withdrew, and thrust forward again. He pumped the swollen cock in concert. Vin cried out over and over, grasping at his partner, the need for more contact overtaking conscious thought. He thrust down upon the shaft that filled his ass, thrust up into the hand that fisted his shaft. His head thrashed back and forth, seeking to hold onto that last thread of sanity.

And then they both cried out, their bodies slapping together as their mutual orgasms thrust them together with a final rush of energy.

Vin dropped limply to the mattress, his legs sliding down to bracket the lean body above him. He finally remembered to breathe, a deep sigh filling the silence as he smiled up at his partner. Chris leaned forward on hands and knees, panting as he sought to pull himself back together. Tanner moaned softly as he felt the blond's softening cock slide from his ass. In response, Larabee bent down, kissing him gently.

"Oh. . . how sweet."

Both men jumped, Chris spinning around as Vin sat up. Both men were greeted by the sight of a single man, very large, very bald, and very menacing, staring at them from the doorway.

Larabee found his voice, and growled, "How in the hell did you get in here, Wade?"

Vin glanced from the stranger to his partner. "You know him?"

"Yeah," Chris said, his voice dripping with anger. Before he could continue, the newcomer spoke again.

"Never thought of you as bein' one ta straddle the fence, Larabee. If I'd a known before. . . maybe it wouldn't 'a been your woman I went after. . . I'd 'a just come for you."

Gripping Chris' arm, Vin said, "what's he talkin' about? Who is he, Chris? What's he want?"

The man took a step closer, smirking when the blond stood, putting himself between him and the other man. "Who am I sweet cheeks? Why, my name's Wade Turner. What am I talkin' about? Well, hell, pretty thing, your boyfriend here took everything I had away. . . sent me away. . . all because I went after I wanted. . . including that pretty little filly he used to be with." He turned toward Chris, and said, "Heard she died, along with that brat 'a yours. What a shame."

"You fucking bastard! Don't you even think about her! Now you tell me what the hell you're doing here!"

"Why. . . I came to settle up with you, Larabee. I'm here to hurt you, just like you hurt me."

"You crazy son of a bitch, I did nothing to you that you didn't deserve! You're a psychotic madman, Turner, and you should still be locked away!"

"Aw, don't tell me that, deep down, you're not happy to see me blondie. I've always known we had. . . a connection. . . and I know you feel it, too."

"The only think I feel for you is hatred, you fucking bastard. I'll see you back where you belong. . . only this time I'll bury you beneath the prison!"

Vin had risen from the mattress, and now stood shoulder to shoulder with the older man. Unconsciously he gripped the blond's arm, letting him know that he was there. Turning from his furious lover, he faced the other man. "I ain't for certain who you are, you son of a bitch, but you've got nothin' in common with Chris."

"How precious. . . you've married yourself another little terrier," Turner snarled. "Tell me, pretty boy, does this one scream as loud as she did?"

The last vestiges of civility were torn asunder by those words, and Chris launched himself across the room with a wild cry. Before the smirking man could react, the blond had tackled him, both of them crashing to the floor several feet away.

Vin started across the room as well but, to his shock, he watched as his partner was tossed back across the room with brutal force. He watched in shock as Chris bounced against the single wooden wall sliding, unconscious, to the floor. Turning back toward the stranger, he was startled to find that Turner was standing right before him. He drew back a fist, ready to plow it into the smirking face, but suddenly found himself mesmerized by the black eyes that bored into his.

Wade reached out, grabbing the Texan's long hair. He smiled as the slender man continued to stare into his eyes, quickly dropping any pretense of fighting back. He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed lips bruised from passion. Pulling back, he breathed in a harsh whisper, "now you're all mine. . . little terrier."

<C/V>

Chris groaned as consciousness forced itself on him, gingerly moving his head as he attempted to reorient himself to place and time. Prying his eyes open, he found himself staring at a dusty, hardwood floor. He slowly pieced together the shreds of his memory and groaned once more. Suddenly a pair of blue eyes stared at him from his mind's eye and he cried out. Forgetting the pain, he pushed himself up to hands and knees, then leaned back on his heels. Blinking through the tears of pain that stung his eyes, he looked around him.

"VIN!"

Tanner was kneeling at the foot of the big bed they had shared so recently, kept upright by ropes tying each wrist to one of the heavy posts. His head was bowed, long hair obscuring his face from the blond. Blood dripped from a series of gashes in the lean chest, reminding him of something an animal would do.

Pushing himself to his feet, knees threatening to buckle as he did, Larabee staggered across the room. He knelt in front of his lover, feeling the sticky wetness of blood beneath him. Reaching up, he brushed long, sweat-soaked hair back, looking into the handsome face. Tanner's eyes were open, staring blindly into nothingness, blue irises hidden by black pupil.

Stroking a hand along the curved neck, he felt a pulse, letting out a breath he didn't remember holding. Stroking his thumb over bloodless lips, he whispered softly, "Vin? Come on. . . wake up. Oh Jesus. . . come on. . . Pard, wake up."

"You mean he doesn't come on command?"

Larabee whirled on the laughing man, eyes spitting flames as he hissed, "you fucking bastard. . . what did you do to him?"

The ugly smirk never leaving the man's face, Turner said, "Nothing compared to what I have planned for him."

The blond launched himself at the man, brought up short when a hand flashed out, grabbing him around the neck. He gasped as Wade effortlessly lifted him off the floor. Despite the growing black spots as his oxygen was cut off, he grated out, "leave. . . him. . . alone."

"Awww. . . now what fun would that be, pretty boy? Do you remember what it was like before. . . with Sarah?" His eyes grew black and fathomless, and Chris imagined he could see the vile things this monster had done to his beloved wife. "No! Ne. . .never. . . again."

Turner simply laughed. "Yes. . . again. . . and again. Unless you want to make a deal with me."

"An. . . anything." He could barely see the man before him, darkness quickly overtaking him.

"Now. . . don't be so quick to agree, you may not like what I offer you."

"What?"

The man released his grip, allowing Larabee to drop to the floor. The blond huddled there, gasping for breath. He gingerly rubbed his ravaged throat, grimacing with each painful swallow. Hot tears ran down his pale features unheeded. He stared up at the object of his hatred, waiting to hear what the bastard had to say.

Realizing that he had the man's undivided attention, Turner said, "I want to. . . 'know' your little boyfriend - "

"NO!"

Heedless of the man's raspy protest, Wade continued. "BUT, he'll never remember. As I'm sure you've already noticed. . . your pretty little play toy isn't really paying attention to much right now. He'll never remember anything happened."

Larabee knew there had to be something more to it. "What. . . do you. . . g. . . get out. . . of it?"

The feral smile widened. "I said he'll never remember. . . but you will. You're gonna watch every fuckin'. . . and I do mean fuckin'. . . second of what I do to him."

"NO! You bastard, your problem's with me. . . you let. . . him. . . alone!" Chris gasped for air, his aching throat protesting as he grew angrier with each syllable.

"That's not part of the negotiation, blondie. Ya see, if I've learned one thing from you, it's that ya don't really care what happens to you. What happens to. . . well, to whoever you're bangin'. . . that's a whole different story. So. . . the pretty little terrier you were butt fuckin' while ago. . . he don't get outta this without me gettin' a taste of him. The only thing ya git ta choose is. . . does he remember or not."

The ATF agent glared at the other man with pure hatred in his eyes. "You fucking. . . maniac. . . I will. . . kill. . . you."

Turner laughed hard, as if the man's words gave the punchline to the greatest joke in the world. But all he said was, "you can try."

Chris watched the other man walk around the room, strolling as if he were simply taking a tour. Twice he started toward Vin, smiling the entire time. Chris moved to intercept him, only to have the man move away with a chuckle. Turner was baiting him, he knew, but it didn't matter. He'd do whatever it took to keep Vin safe.

Whatever it took.

Wade stopped, turning back toward the blond agent. In a voice as calm and cool as if he was discussing the weather, he said, "now, let me tell you the rest of my plan. You decide whether this sweet young thing remembers what happens to him, and then we talk about you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Now. . . if you decide to let pretty boy remember what I do to him. . . I leave you alone. But, if you decide that you don't want him to remember. . . I'll leave my mark on you."

"Meaning?" He didn't have to ask really, he had a pretty good idea of what Turner meant from the look on the psychopath's face.

"Meaning that. . . if you're real lucky. . . you'll live to fuck the terrier again. . . in a month or so."

He tried not to let his feelings show, but knew the man could read the fear and loathing in his face. Drawing himself up, Chris said, "Fine. You do whatever you want with me. . . but he doesn't remember any of this."

With a full force smirk, the man said, "I figgered you'd see it that way. Gotta say I prefer it this way myself. And, since I'm such a generous guy, I'm gonna give ya a few hours with your sleeping beauty. He might even wake up, ya never know. I'll be back at sunrise. Oh, one more thing. . . don't even think about leavin'. That door," he canted his head toward the door they had entered several hours earlier, "is the only way in or out. The windows. . . they're break proof. So, you spend your time wisely, Chris Larabee, it may be all you have left."

<C/V>

Chris sat with his back against the big bed's headboard, Vin cradled in his arms. He had, of course, tested everything Turner said as soon as the man walked out the door. But, for once, the psychotic bastard was telling the truth. The door was locked from the outside and resisted his attempts to force it open. Likewise the windows he pounded a chair against simply bounced the piece of furniture back toward him.

Finally, realizing that he would simply have to wait the madman out, he focused on getting Vin loose. The ropes almost stopped him as well, but he finally managed to loosen them, releasing his comatose lover.

Tanner had yet to show any signs of waking; his eyes staring straight ahead. Chris pulled the unresisting body into his arms, settling in to do the thing he hated most of all. . . waiting.

He stroked his fingers through the long, disheveled locks, brushing the loose curls back from the pale, handsome features. He spoke very little, the ache of bruised muscles and the fact they had never needed words kept him quiet most of the time. For the most part, all he said was, "I'm so sorry, Cowboy."

The blond's mind raced, memories burning through him despite long years of burying them in the darkest depths of his soul. . .

<C/V>

He had first learned of Wade Turner's existence while he was a detective with the DPD. He and Buck had been assigned to investigate the psychotic, drug addicted madman suspected of having raped, tortured, and murdered at least six people. Sarah had come home one night, trembling with fear. He remembered pulling her into his arms, asking over and over again what was wrong. Finally she told him. A man had come to the little photography studio where she worked. She had been alone, and he had made the vilest threats imaginable. He told her in no uncertain terms exactly what he would do to her if her husband didn't leave him alone.

He had packed her up and sent her off to stay with friends, a retired SeAL and his wife. He had made a report, and he and Buck had accelerated their investigation. He had done everything by the book. . . but he had done everything wrong.

He could still remember the phone call that came a week later, could hear the stranger's voice on the other end informing him that he needed to come to Denver General as soon as possible. Buck had been at his side, driving him across town to the hospital.

Their friends were dead, murdered. But as painful as that was, the ordeal had only begun for he and Sarah. Turner had raped her, even as the man entrusted with her safety and his wife lay bleeding to death on the floor beside her. He had sliced four gashes along her ribcage, formed to look like an animal had slashed her.

Then he left her alive, to live with the memory of what he had done.

It had taken another six weeks before he and Buck collected enough evidence to put him away, and another year before he was finally sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole.

It took much longer for Sarah to begin to feel safe. . .

<C/V>

Vin moaned softly, drawing Chris from his thoughts. He looked down, realizing that his partner was actually looking at him. "Hey, Pard."

"Ch. . . ris?"

"About time you woke up."

"We late?"

"What?"

"Fer work. . . we late?"

Running his fingers through the long, sweat-soaked strands of hair, he said softly, "No, Baby, we're not late."

Tanner frowned. Chris only called him 'Baby' when something was very, very wrong. Then he noticed a dark patch on the long, strong neck. Reaching out, he touched it gingerly. "What. . . what's wrong?"

He winced, realizing that he must be bruised from Turner trying to strangle him. "Nothing. . . nothing's wrong."

"Yer. . . lyin'," he said, his mind beginning to fog over. "We. . . we in. . . trouble?"

"No, Pard, we're not in trouble. You trust me?"

Smiling, the Texan said, "course I do. . . silly. . . question."

Leaning down, Larabee planted a gentle kiss on his partner's forehead. "Then go on back to sleep. . . okay? I'll take care of everything."

Snuggling against the broad chest, Tanner sighed. He knew something was up, but he did trust Chris. If the man said it was okay and he should go to sleep. . . then that was what he'd do.

Larabee ran his thumb across the broad, lax mouth and down the long throat, watching his lover drift back into unconsciousness. He leaned his head back against the headboard, his exhausted mind trying to make sense of their predicament, and failing miserably. Nothing added up.

Wade Turner was in prison, with no hope of ever being released. Even if he had escaped or, worse yet, been released, no one knew he and Vin would be here, at the Dennison estate. And then there was the fact that Turner had so effortlessly overpowered both he and Vin, and left the Texan comatose for hours with nothing more than a few cuts to show he'd been touched.

Unconsciously, he ran his hand over his still aching throat. Turner had always been strong, but he seemed almost superhuman now. He knew himself to be a strong man in his own right, and could not for the life of him figure out how the bastard had been able to toss him around like a rag doll.

Then he realized that the time for studying the situation had come to an end. Looking up, he saw Turner standing near the foot of the bed, that ever present smirk plastered on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt this sweet little reunion, blondie, but I'm getting' bored."

Chris felt his blood run cold as the madman delivered his next words.

"It's playtime."

Larabee pulled his partner closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the limp body. "Let him go."

Turner howled with laughter. "Sorry, blondie, not part of the deal."

Shaking his head Chris said, "I'm making it the only deal. Let him go. . . let him go and you can kill me." It sounded so simple.

"I can kill you any time I want to," Wade said smugly, "but that'd be way too easy. I want to hurt you, Larabee. . . I want you to wish you were dead. Now, me and your little boy toy have a date."

"You're not going to touch him!" Chris growled, pulling Vin even closer, bent on protecting the insensate man from harm.

Without warning, Turner reached out, pounding the blond's head into the heavy headboard, laughing as the dazed man slumped on the bed. He easily pulled Tanner's unresisting body from Larabee's grasp, depositing him on the mattress. Pulling Chris up, he began to drag the semi-conscious man from the bed.

The groggy agent became conscious of the fact that he was being moved, that awareness spurring him to action. He struggled with his captor, spitting out curses in a hoarse voice. It seemed to just spur the inhuman monster on.

The two men fought, trading punches and kicks, but it was a short fight. The bigger man quickly overcame the ATF agent, pounding him with hard fists and kicking the failing man with heavy boots. He whooped with deranged joy as Larabee lay bleeding at his feet.

<C/V>

The world seemed to be made up of a series of still shots, confusing images, and pain. When he managed to bring himself back to consciousness, he found himself tied, spread eagle, at the foot of the bed. He was facing the bed, what he saw there wringing an inarticulate cry from torn lips.

Wade licked his lips, taunting the bound man. He ran a hand along the long, lean body lying nude on the bed. As Larabee watched, he stroked Tanner, teasing the tanned flesh, pebbling the brown nipples and drawing his penis erect. Then he stroked the long hair, running his thumb over the lax mouth and eliciting a soft moan from the Texan.

Chris started at that sound, looking to see his young lover's eyes open. Glaring at their captor he screamed, "You said he wouldn't know what was going on!"

"I said he won't remember. . . and he won't. Not as long 's you play by the rules. I never said he wouldn't know what was going on, though."

"Damn you," Chris grated out. "Damn you to hell!"

Once again the madman's laughter rang out through the room. "You damned me to hell a long time ago. I'm repayin' the favor now. And in case you doubt me, let me lay it out for you, pretty boy. Your. . . 'baby'. . . feels everything I do. Later, he's gonna think it was all a dream. . . a nightmare. . . that he can't remember. He won't hurt any more than if you and him got a little. . . rowdy. . . nothin' to prove that his nightmare was real. I promised that, and I can deliver it.

"I ain't doin' this 'cause of him, Larabee. . . but 'cause of you. See, it's like this. The only two people in the world that will remember what I do here will be me, and you. And you have to live with it for the rest of your life. . . alone. He won't remember. . . and you have two choices. You tell him, and force him to live with the pain of what I did to him. . . or you keep it to yourself, and die a little every time you look at him.

"Can you handle it, Chris Larabee? Can you live with it all alone?"

"I'll live with it. . . but you won't, you fucking son of a bitch! I'll come after you, and you'll know true pain." Chris' voice was little more than a whisper, the raw anger like ice in his tone.

The big man snarled, leapt from the bed, and stormed to where the blond hung by the thick ropes. Pulling Tanner's tee-shirt from the floor, he used it to gag the man he sought to torture. Standing back, he registered the smoldering glare, but only smiled. "There. Ya ain't gonna ruin my fun. Now, just stand here 'n watch."

Chris struggled to force the cloth from his mouth to no avail. He could only watch as Turner returned to where Vin lay. He could see the blue eyes staring toward the ceiling, vague and glassy. That part of him that remained a senior agent with Denver's Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms read signs that pointed toward his partner being drugged.

Wade dropped down on the mattress beside the softly moaning man. He stroked a hand along the finely chiseled features, grinning as the unfocused blue eyes began to roam, searching. Cupping the square jaw, he turned the man's face toward him. "Right here ya little terrier. . . right here."

". . .iiiisss?" Tanner managed in a slurred voice.

"Chris? He's right over there. . . watchin'. . . he wants ta watch me take care of ya."

Larabee screamed through the thick material, trying desperately to communicate the truth to his lover. But all he could do was hang there helplessly, watching the horror unfold before him.

Turner continued to fondle the slender body before him. He stroked and teased as he brought Tanner to full arousal. The Texan moaned, whimpering as he squeezed the thick shaft of flesh, then released it and watched him twitch. His eyes drifted toward the bound blond as his hand slid down to grasp the man's ass. He saw the hazel eyes widen and then narrow with cold fury. "Don't like that, do ya? Don't want anyone playin' with your toys?"

Larabee strained against the ropes, screaming as the man rammed three fingers into Vin, the younger man crying out weakly as the pain ripped through him.

"No. . . no. . . please. . ." Tanner cried out, his voice weak and distant. "No. . .ple. . . please. . .. Chris. . . oh. . . please. Chris. . . where. . . where. . . no. . ."

The heartbreaking words continued, wrenching Larabee's heart into a million pieces. Hot tears poured down his face, but he did nothing to stop them. It didn't matter, Turner had won.

Wade continued thrusting his fingers into the tight ass, enjoying the cries of distress coming from the wide mouth. Larabee's whore could only react, unable to do more than lay there, whimpering and moaning as he did whatever he wanted to him.

Whatever hurt Chris Larabee the most.

Chris watched in growing terror as the man roughly forced Vin onto his stomach, meaning that now his partner was now facing him. He could see the confused eyes staring, unseeing, in his direction. Silently he begged them to close, unable to deal with his lover looking at him right now.

Turner savagely jerked the long legs apart, spreading them wide as he climbed between them. Opening his jeans, he released his own swollen cock. Stroking it, he turned to face the blond. "Somethin' for your dead wife and your fag lover to share."

He arched his neck, screaming like a wild animal into the restrictive cloth. Finally, spent, he dropped his head, his gaze falling inevitably on the bed.

Their attacker had grabbed Vin roughly by the hips, lifting him from the bed. The semiconscious man teetered awkwardly on his knees, his head and shoulders still pressed against the bed. He waited until he had the tortured blond's attention before ramming himself into the slender man's body.

Vin's body tensed, the pain overwhelming him completely. He uttered no sound, although his mouth was spread open as wide as possible. His eyes bulged, the whites showing completely around the wide pupils and barely visible blue. His fingers clawed into the mattress beneath him hard enough to rip the thick canvas cover.

And then it was over; Tanner collapsed, unconscious, onto the bed.

It did nothing to stop Turner from having his fun, however. He continued raping the unconscious man, thrusting until he had satisfied himself. Then, dropping the limp body, he stood, closing his pants before strolling casually to where the object of his hatred hung.

The blond's head had dropped to his chest, his body suspended from the ropes, blood dripping from his wrists. Wade lifted the man's head, staring into the burning eyes. Casually he pulled the shirt from Larabee's mouth.

Stroking a thumb over the torn lips, Wade said, "see? You get to live with this for the rest of your life. How will it feel, I wonder? Having to live with the fact that the same man raped the two most important people in your life?"

Unable to form words through the white hot rage, Chris continued to glare at the man as he spat bloody spittle at him. He barely even registered the fact that Turner plowed a large, beefy fist into the side of his face. He simply collapsed into the embrace of oblivion.

<C/V>

When Chris next opened his eyes, it was dark, with the exception of the moonlight streaming through the dusty windows. He had been released from his bonds, left to lie in a heap on the floor. Carefully he pulled himself up, groaning softly as abused muscles made themselves known. He found Vin still laying just as Turner had left him, sprawled gracelessly on the mattress. After making his lover more comfortable, he checked the door, not surprised when he found it locked again. He was feeling more and more like a caged animal, and desperate to find a way out.

Finding nothing to give him hope of escape, he went back to the bed. Once more he settled against the headboard, cradling Tanner against him. He was relieved to see that the blue eyes had closed at some point, his partner seeming to be asleep now.

He studied the pale face in the moonlight, tracing the finely chiseled features with one trembling finger. As he did, Vin began to wake, responding to the gentle touch. Larabee managed a smile as the deep set eyes blinked open, staring into the dimly lit room.

"Chris?"

"Hi," he said, lovingly.

". . .we at?"

"Still at the Dennison place. Why don't you go on back to sleep?"

Frowning, Tanner said, "feel like I. . .been asleep fer days. 'Sides. . .shouldn't we be gittin' home?" Then he paused, vague memories making themselves known.

Seeing the play of emotions crossing his beloved's face, Chris said, "it's gonna be okay. . . I'll take care of it."

"Ain't never been one ta need taken care of, cowboy. Figgered ya knew that by now."

Smiling as fire flashed in the other man's eyes, Chris said, "sorry. It's just. . . well, Turner is my problem. I don't. . . I don't want you caught. . . caught in the middle." His voice trembled, the vision of what the mad man had done suddenly making itself known to his already reeling mind.

Reaching up and stroking the handsome face of his lover, Vin said, "if it concerns you, Chris Larabee. . . it concerns me. And I ain't in the middle. I'm right beside ya. . . always and forever."

Tears stinging his eyes at the Texan's softly drawled declaration of love, the blond repeated, "always and forever."

<C/V>

Chris located their clothes, the two men helping one another into pants and shirts, shoes and socks. Tanner grunted a couple of times as the savaged muscles protested a sudden move, but he made no mention of the rape. Larabee watched him intently for signs that he remembered, but saw nothing.

He found himself being helped into most of his clothes, his bruised and sore muscles stiffening more and more as time passed. He even found himself wishing for Nathan and a bottle of muscle relaxants. Still he insisted on settling back against the headboard once more, Vin bracketed between his legs and laying against his chest.

"Ya know, ol' man, ya ought 'a be the one bein' held. . . banged up as ya seem ta be."

Keeping his voice light, Chris replied, "I'm not so sore I can't whip your ass, boy, so watch your mouth."

"The two of you make me sick."

They both started, looking up to find Wade Turner silhouetted against one of the windows. Neither of them had heard him enter the room. Chris straightened, feeling Vin tense against him.

"Our fight, Chris," Tanner said softly.

"Yeah, quite the little terrier," Wade snarled, moving toward the two men. As he reached the bed, he said, "Sorry, you're just gonna have ta sit this one out, sweet thing."

The Texan growled, lunging toward their captor. The big man reached out, grasping Tanner around the throat, and he suddenly slumped limply to the mattress. Chris barely managed to catch him, easing him to the bed. With a howl, the blond turned on the madman.

"You fucking son of a bitch. . . I'll kill you!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Turner taunted. "Your little boyfriend is fine, just sleeping."

"What do you want now?" Larabee perched on the side of the bed, placing himself between Wade and his partner.

"You," Turner said simply. "I want you."

"I told you, you've got me. . . just leave him alone."

The madman laughed. "Oh hell, I'm done with him. He was a nice little appetizer, but I'm ready for the main course. So come on pretty boy. . . let's go."

Chris pushed himself up and away from the bed, facing off against his attacker. Shooting a cold glare at the bigger man, he said in a deadly calm voice, "Bring it on."

They circled one another like a pair of big cats, each searching for the others weaknesses. Chris knew he had more to offer in the latter area. . . he was battered and sore from their previous altercation. He knew to that, even on his best day, he couldn't take on this man alone.

He prepared himself to die. . . slowly and painfully. He told himself he wasn't giving up. . . just being realistic. Wade Turner would come out of this on top.

As if reading the blond's mind, Wade lunged, throwing his body into the slender form of his opponent. They slammed into the wall before landing on the floor in a heap. Arms flailing, fists thrashing, legs kicking, the two men fought. Again and again Chris' cries of pain split the air as the bigger man pounded him with fists and feet. He fought back, landing several good blows, but to little avail. He felt bones crack and muscle tear, his own blood nearly drowning him as it flowed freely from his nose and several cuts. He couldn't catch his breath, blackness creeping into the edges of his vision. His reflexes grew slower, leaving him able to do little more than attempt to deflect the other man's attack.

Turner lurched to his feet, reaching down and hauling Chris up after him. The bloodied blond hung limply from his grip, unable to keep his feet under him. The big man laughed harshly at the sight of the struggling man. Grabbing the bleeding body in both hands, he threw Larabee full force, slamming him into the nearest wall. The injured man bounced off the hardwood wall, landing in a battered and torn heap on the floor.

Finding the strength from somewhere, he managed to get his hands beneath him. With a strangled cry he pushed up, trying valiantly to lift himself from the floor. Then he felt something give way and, screaming in pain, he fell back. He made a second attempt, but only managed to bring more pain to his already tortured body. Falling back to the hard wood with a pain filled sob, he vomited a mix of blood and bile. With his last ounce of energy he rolled away from the gory mass.

Moving in once more, Turner reached down, grabbing the beaten man. He pulled Chris up, staring into eyes that were nearly swollen shut. "Now. . . we really have fun."

Larabee once more spit in the man's face, watching the bloody mass slide over the ugly features. The smile he managed ended when his attacker backhanded him, sending lightening bolts of pain shooting through his body. All he could do was moan, once more falling limp in the man's grasp.

The mad man dragged the battered body across the room, tossing Larabee none too gently onto the bed. He grabbed the waistband of the blond's jeans, ripping the snap loose and yanking the zipper down. The jeans were torn from the trim body and thrown aside to land on the floor behind them. Wade growled under his breath at the sight of the sinewy frame, displayed half naked and vulnerable to him. With an iron grip he wrapped his hand around the other man's limp cock, eliciting a breathless cry from his victim. Frustrated when the semiconscious man didn't respond to his touch otherwise, he roughly rolled Chris over to his stomach.

The blond blinked the blood from his eyes, clearing his vision momentarily. He gasped to see the face of his beloved Texan only inches away. Slowly, he managed to move his hand, spidering it across the mattress until he touched the other man. "Viiiiiiin."

Turner heard the raw emotion in the man's voice, and felt his hatred swell. Loosing a savage growl, he yanked the long legs apart, pulling Chris toward him until his hips were at the edge of the bed. Without warning, he rammed his thick cock into the wounded man, grunting with satisfaction as he tore a scream from the blond.

The violent thrust of his rapist lifted the stunned man from the mattress time after time. His mind was so overwhelmed with the physical and mental agony being forced upon him, that he could no longer think. The fingers of one hand dug into the mattress while the other wrapped around Tanner's forearm. Then, slowly, the world began to drift away from him. The last thing he saw, even as his body responded to Turner reaching a vicious orgasm, was the face of his lover.

<C/V>

Vin slowly managed to pull his eyelids open, groggily trying to remember where he was and why. Blinking to try and clear his vision at least, he looked around at the dimly lit room. The only thing that greeted him was an empty room and silence.

Memories began to appear amidst the sludge that was his mind. He remembered coming to this place with Chris. . . remembered walking through the rooms. . . remembered coming to this room. . . remembered making love on the bed where he now lay. He smiled at that memory, absently running a hand over his crotch. Then he frowned, more memories pushing their way to the front. He remembered someone interrupting them. . . remembered anger pouring from his partner as he faced the newcomer.

Then things went blank, leaving him with a large gap in his memory that extended to his recent awakening.

Deciding to explore that hole later, he pushed himself from the mattress, stiffly gaining his feet. He peered around the room, searching for his life partner and soul mate. "Chris?"

Vin quickly discovered that the older man was nowhere to be found. Fear began to tug at him, although he couldn't say why. Quickly moving to the door, he found it unlocked and stepped out onto the stairs. Padding lightly down them, he moved to the bottom and entered onto the second floor hallway. Looking around, he tried to decipher just why his fight-or-flight response was kicked into high gear. The house was silent; there was no sign of anything wrong.

Shaking his head and blaming the upcoming holiday for putting him on edge in the vacant old house, he moved through the rooms quickly, calling out as he sought his partner. Finding no sign of the blond, he jogged down the stairs to the main floor. "Chris?"

Moving into the parlor he caught sight of one long leg. It was stretched out to the side of a high backed chair that faced the long cold fireplace. Slowing, he smiled, shaking his head. "Damn, ol' man, I was startin' ta think ya'd left me alone."

Getting no response, Tanner moved closer. "Chris?" Stepping around to face his lover, he cried out, "Chris!"

Larabee lay slumped in the old chair, head propped against the deep, curved cushion of the back. He was fully dressed, his clothes tattered and bloodied. With a groan Vin dropped to his knees, reaching out to gently touch one swollen jaw. "Oh God. What. . . what happened?"

Swollen eyes pried themselves open and torn lips parted. "Vi. . .Viiiin?"

"Yeah, I'm right here. God Chris, what happened?"

"Turner. . . gotta. . . get out. He'll be. . . be. . . back. Said. . . said he'd be. . . b-back."

Turner. He remembered Chris calling the man by name now. Turner. Taking a quick look around him, the younger man replied, "okay, we're gittin' outta here."

Shaking his head, the older man said, "Go. . . on. I can't. . . can't. . ." He trailed off, exhausted.

"No," Tanner growled. "I ain't leavin' you alone fer that sonofabitch ta come back to. Now, you let me do the work. We're gittin' outta here."

"No. . . oh God!" Larabee cried out as Vin lifted him from the chair. Pained cries passed trembling lips as his lover took most of his weight, leading him toward the front door. He clutched at Tanner, able to do little more than hold onto the smaller man as he stumbled along beside him.

They reached the front door.

Vin opened the door, peering out into the morning's light. He found it looked amazingly normal outside. Shifting his hold on the battered man, he led Chris out onto the front steps. He could feel the slender body trembling, could hear the agonizingly quick, panting breaths that told him his lover was already at the end of his energy. Turning slightly, he settled Larabee's head on his shoulder, rubbing his back tenderly as he looked for signs that Turner was nearby.

"Pl-please," the older man grated out. "Tired. . . Vin."

"I know ya are, pard. Jist hang on, I'm gittin' us outta here." That said, he carefully guided his lover down the broad steps. As they reached the bottom, he felt Larabee's legs give out. "Jist a few more steps, Cowboy. Stay with me."

"Tr. . . trying."

"I know ya are," He responded softly.

They managed to get to the truck, Vin holding Chris upright as he pulled open the door. Carefully he eased the battered man into the cab, lifting his legs in for him. Larabee slumped back against the seat, barely conscious.

Reaching into the cab, he popped the glove box open and retrieved his cell phone. Keeping one hand on his lover and his eyes on the strange house, he turned the cell on, dialing up emergency services.

"Where ya goin'. . . ya little terrier?"

Vin jerked the little phone away from his ear, staring at it. It was Turner. 'another little terrier' echoed through his memories. Disconnecting the call, he dialed 9-1-1 once more. After a single ring, the call was picked up. Quickly he said, "I need an ambulance - "

"Why? Don't think blondie's gonna make it?"

"Damn you! What do ya want!?" He didn't know how the man had managed to tap into his phone, but he'd worry about that later.

"Want? What do you think I want. . . baby? I want to have some fun. . . I want Larabee to hurt. I want - "

Not waiting for anything more, Vin disconnected the phone. Tossing it back into the cab, he turned to see Chris looking at him. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on the bruised forehead. "It's gonna be okay, Pard. I'll take care of things."

Managing a wan smile, Larabee whispered hoarsely, "Never. . . doubted it."

Carefully snapping the belt around his partner before closing the door, Vin rounded the cab and slipped behind the steering wheel. Glad for once that Chris had left the keys in the ignition, he turned the key. He wasn't certain what he was expecting. . . maybe an explosion? The engine would be dead? He wasn't certain what he expected, but having the engine turn over was low on the list.

Slamming the shift into reverse, he stomped the accelerator, sending them backward in a flurry of dead leaves. Braking hard, he shifted into drive and sped away. Beside him the blond had slipped into unconsciousness, head lolling against the seat back.

The truck flew down the treacherous drive, nearly sliding off the side several times as the Texan lost sight of the road beneath the thick cover of leaves. As he neared the end of the drive, he braked suddenly, cursing.

There, before him, stood Wade Turner.

Turner smiled, waggling his fingers tauntingly as he called out, "what's the matter, little terrier? Blondie got'cha on a short leash? Afraid yer gonna end up with a dead husband? C'mon, terrier. . . hand 'im over. Hand 'im over, and you can drive away." The big man held up a gun, pointing it toward the windshield. Vin recognized it. It was his own weapon.

"Go ta hell," Vin yelled at the sneering man.

"Hand 'im over. . . or I shoot 'im right now."

"GO TO HELL!" Tanner once more stomped the accelerator.

Wade Turner didn't even flinch. He stood his ground, gun pointed toward the quickly approaching truck. He fired three rounds, each of them hitting the windshield and sending a spiderweb of cracks across its surface as each barely missed the two men. Thankfully the safety glass held, keeping them from being showered with glass. He was still firing when the big Dodge Ram struck him hard, sending him flying into the air.

Not even slowing, Vin drove on.

<C/V>

"Buck, there!"

Wilmington looked in the direction Ezra Standish was pointing, cursing softly as he recognized the wildly careening vehicle that was just entering the main road. Laying on the horn he blew a loud pattern in hopes of capturing the driver's attention. He thought at first that the vehicle would continue on but, at the last minute, the big truck stopped. Wheeling in a tight U-turn and activating his hazard lights, the big man stopped right behind the Ram. Leaping out of the car, he sprinted forward, gun drawn just in case. They reached the cab at the same time, Buck on one side and Ezra the other. When they recognized the occupants of the black vehicle, they holstered their weapons.

Pulling the driver's door open, the big ladies man reached in to touch the nearly rigid Texan. He drew back when Tanner flinched violently. "Vin? Vin! It's me. . . it's Buck."

"Buck?" Wide blue eyes turned, taking in the features of his friend. Slumping back he breathed in relief, "Buck."

"Yeah, it's me, Junior. What the hell happened? We've been lookin' for you two for days now!" He looked across, registering how badly beaten his old friend was. "Ah damn, what happened?"

Ezra was on the phone, contacting emergency services. Completing the call, he put the phone away, emerald green eyes meeting Buck's dark blue ones. "It's bad. Very bad," he mouthed.

<C/V>

They made Chris as comfortable as possible, not wanting to move him until the emergency crew arrived. Vin settled in beside his lover, cradling the injured man against him. He didn't look very well himself, his face devoid of color and blue eyes hidden by wide, black pupils. Frowning, he seemed to just realize that they were no longer moving. "We. . . we gotta git outta here."

"As soon as the ambulance comes, Junior. I don't wanna move Chris any more than we have to," Buck replied.

"No. . . no. . . we've gotta git outta here."

"Vin - "

Turning haunted eyes toward his friend, the Texan said, "he'll be comin' fer us, Buck. . . we gotta git outta here."

"He? The person who did that to Chris?"

Nodding, Tanner said softly, "hit. . . I hit 'im. . . hit 'im."

Gently grasping the younger man's face, turning it to face him, Wilmington said, "Vin, listen to me. . . what are you talkin' about? You hit the man who did this?"

Once more nodding, the younger man said, "back. . . yonder. He wouldn't git out. . . outta the way. I couldn't let 'im. . . take. . . Chris. He'd a. . . he'd a killed 'im. Had ta hit. . . "

Gently laying a hand on the wide shoulder, Buck turned to Ezra. "You stay here with them; I'm gonna go take a look."

"Be careful," Standish offered.

Smiling, the big man said, "wouldn't have it any other way."

<C/V>

While Wilmington drove back up the road in search of Chris' assailant, Ezra stood beside the truck, watching. He watched the red Mustang creep along the road a quarter of a mile away. He watched for signs of the emergency vehicle's approach. He watched both men as they reclined in the cab of the big truck, Larabee resting against Tanner.

Just as Buck returned, the distant lights of the ambulance could be seen approaching. Standish turned toward the cab, saying softly to a half-conscious sharpshooter, "it's all right, Vin. . . it's going to be all right now."

Tanner nodded, watching the kaleidoscope of colors flashing through the shattered windshield. He heard the familiar sound of Wilmington's Mustang coming up behind them, followed quickly by the sound of boot heels crunching over stone and leaves. Turning his head he watched as his big friend appeared in the open door of the cab.

"Did ya find 'im?" His voice held a mixture of hope and dread. "Is he dead?"

Shaking his head, Buck said, "I'm not sure what you thought you hit Junior, but I looked all over the place back there.

"There's no sign of anyone there, Vin. There's nothin' back there."

Vin stared at his friend, ready to argue with him, when the EMTs approached. Then, his mind was filled only with thoughts of his partner. Turning when the medical personnel began to care for the other man, he moved himself stiffly back, so they could care for Larabee. As he watched them working, he started filling them in, automatically telling them about the blond's allergy to penicillin, his blood type, and the nature of his injuries. While one of the men checked the injured man over, the other jotted down the information the Texan gave.

A few minutes later, Chris was strapped down on a stretcher, a cervical collar around his neck and a backboard between him and the sheet-covered surface. They had started an IV and had placed a canula beneath his nose.

Tanner started to follow, only to find another technician between him and his lover. Frowning, he rasped out, "I'm goin' with 'im."

"No problem, but I'd like to check you over. I'll be as quick as I can."

With a huff of displeasure, Vin nodded briefly. He barely heard the questions asked him, his mind wrapped up on that narrow little bed. Finally he was given the go-ahead, and he moved stiffly toward the ambulance. Buck was quickly at his side, one hand on the younger man's elbow. Ezra slipped up beside him and took his other elbow in hand as well. They guided the trembling Texan toward the ambulance and helped him inside.

"We'll be there soon as we can, Junior," Buck assured. "I'm gonna call the others and then me and Ezra will take care of things here. Vin?" When the other man looked out at him, he promised, "We'll all be there as soon as we can, all right?"

Nodding, Tanner said, "Watch yer back."

As the Medical Technician closed the door and the ambulance started down the road, Wilmington and Sandish stood, feeling helpless, watching as their friends were carried away.

<C/V>

Buck and Ezra entered the hospital to find Nathan, Josiah and JD sitting in the waiting room. As they approached the tense looking group, the mustached man asked, "any news?"

"Nothing's changed since the last time we spoke," Jackson informed him. "Vin should be going to a room shortly. They just took Chris up to surgery; it took a while to stabilize him."

"Damn," Buck muttered. The two injured men had arrived at the hospital more than two hours ago. The news that he had only now gone to surgery rang like a death knell in his mind.

Jackson knew what his friend was thinking, and wished that he could offer him words of comfort. The truth was, though, that Chris was only barely holding his own, and it wouldn't take much to tip the scales against him.

"Did you find anything. . . anyone. . . to give us any information as to what happened?" Josiah asked. He knew that it would be best to keep Buck's mind working, and not dwelling on his old friend until they knew more about his condition.

"We went through the place Travis had them look over. . ."

"And?"

Heaving a sigh, the brunet ran his fingers through his thick hair. "Most of the place looked untouched, except for the parlor and this. . . um. . . like a studio apartment up on the top floor."

Ezra stepped in, seeing the toll the story was taking on the bigger man. "There was evidence of violence in both those places, including an indication that someone was bound by ropes to the end of the bed on the upper floor. I noted marks on both their wrists, which would indicate that each of them may have been tied there at some point during their absence.

"There was also evidence that there was some amount of violence perpetrated on the bed. Preliminary indications are that. . ." He stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I'm afraid that there are indications that someone was. . . violated."

"Violated?" JD rolled the world around in his mind before gaping as the full meaning hit him. "You mean one of them was. . . raped?"

Closing his eyes, as if he thought that he could shut out the information, Standish nodded. "Yes, at least one." He didn't elaborate; he didn't think he needed to.

"We don't know anything for certain," Buck added hastily.

"We're waiting for the forensic report," Ezra agreed.

Letting his head fall against the back of his chair, JD grumbled, "God, I hate waiting."

<C/V>

Vin lay on his side, head pillowed in the crook of one arm. Both wrists bore bands of gauze, while the bandages over the deep gashes on his chest were hidden by his hospital gown. Other than bruises and scratches, he seemed to be in good shape.

His eyes were closed, but they opened part way as the door opened. "Wondered when y'all were gonna show up. Where's the rest?'

"Buck and JD went to wrap up some things at the office. Ezra went to check in with the investigating team, and Nathan's waiting for word on Chris." Josiah reported as he settled in on one of the less-than-comfortable hospital chairs.

"Ain't heard nothin' yet?"

Shaking his head, Sanchez said, "No, not yet. It could be another hour or more. How're you feeling?"

"Ain't feelin' much of nothin' right now. . . they give me the good stuff while ago," the Texan drawled sleepily, one corner of his mouth quirked up briefly.

With a compassionate smile in return, the profiler asked gently, "Do you feel like talking about what happened?"

"Not much ta say. I remember parts 'n pieces, but there's a lot of holes in my mem'ry."

"That's to be expected after such a traumatic experience. I don't want to pressure you, but I hope you know that you can talk to me. . . any of us. . . whenever you want or need to."

Another brief smile, followed by, "Reckon so. . . although I ain't certain JD'd wanna hear some of it."

With a brilliant smile, the older man said, "I think he'd have a little trouble with some things."

"Reckon y'all would." It had been a test of the team's endurance and dedication when he and Chris had come out to the others. In some ways they were still coming to terms with how this change in the team's dynamic affected them all.

"That doesn't mean we aren't going to stand by you."

"I know that," Vin acknowledged in a heartfelt tone. Then he glanced toward the door. "Wish we knew what was goin' on with Chris."

"Nathan will let us know as soon as he can," Sanchez reassured.

"He was. . . God, J'siah. . . he was so beat up. I wish I could remember what happened!" Tanner's voice was filled with raw emotion.

The older man leaned forward, reaching out to place his hand on Vin's shoulder. "Don't do this to yourself, Vin. Not until you're better."

"But. . . what if we don't have time ta wait?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"Don't know for sure. Just know that. . . somethin'. . . somethin' that happened back there. . . the one that did all this. . . could come back any time. I ain't got a clear picture of who it was, either. Chris, though. . . I cain't say why, but. . . I know that he knows more about what happened than I do."

"Vin, it's doubtful that he's going to remember anything more than you. . . probably less, considering his condition."

"I know. . . I know what you're sayin' makes more sense than what I'm sayin'. But. . . at the same time, I know I'm right."

"Well, it's going to be a while before we know just what Chris will remember."

The two men turned, finding Nathan entering the room. The new comer said, "He's out of surgery and in recovery."

"What's the verdict?" Vin asked, more awake now that they were discussing his partner.

"It's too early to tell for certain," Jackson hedged.

"C'mon, Doc, I know ya better than that. You'd still be down there, badgerin' the doctor or nurse for more information if ya didn't know somethin'." Vin chided.

Heaving a sigh, Nathan dropped into a chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. Clasping his hands, he locked eyes with the reclining man. "There were internal injuries, several hairline fractures, including a skull fracture. Blood loss and dehydration. . . infection. Like you, some of his injuries are days old."

"Nate, wanna give me the bottom line here," Vin asked tiredly.

"The bottom line is that it's going to be touch and go for a while yet."

"He goin' to ICU?"

"Yeah."

"I wanna go see him."

"You will, but it's gonna be a while, Vin."

Taking a deep breath, the sharpshooter said, "Soon as he's outta recovery."

"We'll see. Right now - "

"Ain't askin', Nathan, I'm tellin'." Blue eyes, wide open now, and shooting cerulean sparks, sent a clear warning. Vin Tanner had made up his mind.

<C/V>

"Hello, Chris."

He opened his eyes slowly, finding himself surrounded by darkness and fog. "Where are you, Turner?"

'Right here."

Suddenly he felt hot, fetid breath on his neck. He felt the unwelcome warmth of a body too close. He tried to move away, to turn and face his tormentor, but he couldn't. Wade remained just behind him.

"Not even brave enough to face me, you fucking bastard?"

"Fuck you, Larabee. Or should I say. . . fuck him?"

Suddenly, strong arms were wrapped around him, slowly tightening their grip. He struggled against them, trying to force the other man to release him. It didn't matter how hard he fought back; however, Wade Turner continued to squeeze the life out of him.

<C/V>

Vin moved with slow, slightly unsteady steps, down the hallway. He knew the hospital almost as well as he knew Chris' ranch, they were here so often. With seven of them in a high risk job, it made trips to the hospital almost routine.

He got into the stairwell without being seen. It was well past midnight, and the hospital was as quiet as a hospital ever was. He limped down the staircase, leaning heavily against the rail. Despite his resolve, it took everything he had to stay upright and moving. But he had meant it. He was going to go see Chris.

The others had finally gone home around midnight, after learning that he'd be released in a day or so, and that Chris was resting. He hadn't tried to get anyone to stay, welcoming the chance to be alone. They'd have made it a lot harder to leave his room and go visit his partner.

Getting to the landing, he took a moment to rest. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and waited until the world stopped spinning. He concentrated on slowing his breathing and slowing his heart rate, willing his body to relax so that he could continue on. When that happened, he pushed away from the wall and grabbed hold of the railing, continuing down to the floor that housed the ICU.

Slipping out of the stairwell, he leaned against the wall while he checked out the corridor. The lights were dimmed slightly, and there didn't seem to be anyone around. Holding onto the wall for support, he started down the hall. After a few steps he managed to collect himself enough that he could let go, standing as straight as possible as he padded along the linoleum floor.

The doors to the ICU greeted him a few minutes later. He stopped long enough to look inside the little window set in the upper portion of the door. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know which cubicle held his lover. He cursed his oversight, but then couldn't help but smile when he recognized the nurse on duty. Jenny. She'd been an ICU nurse for longer than Team Seven had been in existence. She was also a strong advocate that the more badly injured someone was, the more they needed their loved ones around. She had recognized the true depth of their relationship a long time ago, as well, and had never blinked an eye.

Quietly making his way to the nurse's station, he started to speak, but she beat him to it. Not even looking up from the chart she was working on, she said, "Wondered when you were gonna show up, Tanner. He's in room 4."

With a chuckle, he replied, "Thanks, Jenny," before moving toward the small cubicle of a room.

Entering the room, he stopped, staring at the bed. Chris was barely visible, surrounded by tubes, wires, and machines. Plotting the best course, he moved in, pulling a stool with him. Planting himself beside the bed, he pulled himself up onto the stool, so he was on a level with the raised bed. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around one, too-cool, hand as he said softly, "I'm here, ol' man."

<C/V>

Suddenly, Chris experienced an overwhelming feeling of safety. There was a pressure on his right hand, and he curled his fingers around that invisible touch. With renewed strength he struggled against his foe.

Behind him, Turner chuckled, the sound cold and hard. "You can't win, Larabee. You can't beat me. Not here. . . not this time. I have the upper hand - "

"The hell you do!" His voice was weak, hoarse and breathless, but it still held the authority that meant he was a leader. Chris Larabee would not just lie down and die because someone told him to. He met each challenge with the same, fierce determination. This would not be an exception. And now, with the warmth that spread through him, originating from that invisible grip, he found himself even stronger. Somehow he knew. . . knew where that warmth; that strength came from.

Vin.

"That little queer terrier of yours?" Turner's voice dripped venom. Somehow the bastard knew what was in his thoughts. "He can't save you. . . nothin' can. You're mine, now."

"The. . . hell. . . I. . . am," Chris gritted out between clenched teeth. He continued to struggle against the iron grip that was squeezing the very life out of him.

<C/V>

Vin smiled when he felt the hand he held respond slightly, a soft squeeze that told him that there was some part of Chris who knew he was there. "You know I ain't gonna be far, Chris, so ya need ta keep fightin', hear?" He found his eyes filling with tears as he continued. "You'd better keep fightin', Christopher Adam Larabee, or so help me, I'm gonna come after ya just so I can kick yer ass."

Suddenly, feeling the weariness baring down on him, he lowered the side rail on the bed and lowered his head and shoulders to the mattress. He still held his lover's hand, savoring that simple, intimate contact.

<C/V>

Chris continued to struggle against Turner's hold. Slowly he became aware of another presence nearby. He fought to look around him, searching for whomever. . . whatever. . . had come to join them. But, while he couldn't find anyone else, he could sense that he was safe from harm.

Turner, however, wasn't.

Vin? It had to be. Who else would come after him here. . . wherever he was?

Suddenly he felt a surge of strength. Shoving back against the other man, he broke his hold. He heard a surprised and pained sound as Turner flew backward into the nothingness surrounding them.

<C/V>

Vin roused, slowly pushing himself up to look at the man in the bed. Chris was struggling weakly, blond hair plastered to his head with perspiration. His lips were moving beneath the oxygen mask. Reaching out, he stroked the colorless face tenderly. "It's okay, yer safe now, Cowboy."

If only that were true.

<C/V>

Turner came flying out of the darkness, launching himself at Larabee. The blond braced himself, but still stumbled backward when the other man hit him. With a growl, he grabbed his adversary's throat, long fingers digging into Turner's flesh. The other man tried to break his hold, shoving his forearms between Larabee's arms, and thrusting out. Chris' hands nearly lost contact, but he continued to hold onto the monster that had done so much to him. Rage took hold, granting him even more strength.

<C/V>

Tanner felt the blond's hand tighten around his, wincing as it continued to tighten, vice-like, smashing his fingers together. "Chris?" Oh, Lord God, what was going on? Leaning forward, Vin pressed his forehead against Chris'. "Chris, it's Vin. C'mon, pard, relax. Yer okay."

Larabee's hand continued to contract.

<C/V>

That presence seemed to envelop him now, lending him even more strength. Turning to street fighting now, he slammed his forehead into Turner's nose while, at the same time, he slammed his knee hard into the other man's crotch. Wade howled, the sound turning to a cough as the blood gushed from his ruined nose. Not giving the other man time to recover, he dove after him.

Defeat would have to be nothing less than total. One of them would not survive to the end of this fight.

<C/V>

"Vin? What's wrong?"

Tanner looked up, finding the ICU nurse at his side. "Jenny, he's got hold of me so tight. . . ain't real certain he ain't broke a finger or two. Don't know what's happenin'."

Jenny stepped up, trying to help Tanner extract his fingers from the vice-like grip. As they slowly loosened Larabee's grip, the blond began to struggle more, his breathing growing ragged. The readout on the monitor near his head told them both that his vital signs were all spiraling out of control.

"No, stop," Vin ordered. He met the woman's shocked look with on that was pleading. "Let go a minute."

As they stopped trying to force Chris to release Vin, Chris vitals returned to the levels they had been. Although none of them could be considered normal, they were at least closer.

"I don't understand," Jenny said in confusion.

"Me either."

"You can't just sit there, letting him injure your hand."

He didn't voice his true thoughts; he said only, "Reckon I can take some bruises if it'll help bring 'im back."

"Vin - "

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

"Don't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Vin - "

"Jenny, we'll give it a little longer. Please?"

The nurse hesitated, weighing her professional role against her compassion. Finally she nodded. Silently she stood by, one hand on his shoulder, lending him support. Together they watched the monitors.

<C/V>

Chris found his strength wavering and, before he could compensate, Turner got the upper hand. Then, just as suddenly, it returned. With a growl, he plowed both fists into the sides of the other man's head, dropping him to what passed for the ground where they were. Leaping on the fallen man, he resumed the fight. He could feel it. Turner was struggling, still coughing and choking on his on blood.

It wouldn't be long now.

<C/V>

"Look. Am I seein' things?" Vin asked.

"No," Jenny said, bewildered. "His vitals are improving."

<C/V>

With a gasp, Turner surrendered, going limp beneath Chris. Pushing himself wearily to his feet, the blond looked down at the fallen man. "You lose, you worthless bastard." He kicked out, catching Wade in the ribs. Smiling at the pain-filled grunt he elicited, he growled, "You took something from the two people I've loved, and I can't change that. But you won't take anything from us ever again." Spitting at the man, he finished, "Go to hell, Turner."

Chris suddenly found himself alone in the darkness. Then that other presence wrapped itself around him, and he let go, floating into that darkness himself.

<C/V>

Vin eased his aching hand from the suddenly lax grip. Letting out a breath, he said, "Man must not be that bad off, hard as he had hold of me."

Smiling compassionately, Jenny slowly manipulated his fingers, apologizing as Tanner responded with a barely suppressed grunt. "I don't think anything's broken, but it's going to bruise. I'll go get an ice pack. Then, I think we should get you back to bed."

"I'll take the ice pack, but I ain't budgin' for a while."

Shaking her head at the man's stubbornness, the nurse left the room. A few minutes later she returned, an icepack in one hand, and a blanket and pillow in the other. Without a word, she wrapped the blanket around Vin's shoulders, placed the pillow on the mattress beside Chris, and helped him situate the icepack. Tanner smiled at her, lowered himself back to the bed beside his lover, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

She could let him get by with this for a few more hours, but she would have to move him before the shift change.

<C/V>

Vin blinked open tired eyes, frowning when his foggy brain registered the fact that he was back in his hospital room. Searching his memory, he vaguely recalled being coaxed into a wheelchair and brought back from Chris' bedside. Turning toward the window, he saw that the day was in full bloom, the bright autumn sun shining against the glass pane.

"Mornin', sunshine." Buck's voice interrupted Tanner's thoughts.

Turning toward the voice, he managed a weak smile for his friend. "Mornin'."

"Jenny told me about your little field trip last night." Buck sat back, folding his arms across his chest.

Rubbing his bruised hand and grimacing as the pain awoke, the Texan said, "Think we could leave the lecture for later?"

"Hell, Junior, you know lectures ain't my style. Besides, Jenny said that Chris' vitals have been slowly improving since you were there. Reckon that makes your fool stunt of traipsin' halfway across the hospital, riskin' your health, a little more forgivable."

"Glad you ain't one ta lecture," Vin rolled his eyes.

"Be glad I'm not Nathan, son," Wilmington replied.

Becoming serious now, Vin said, "He's doin' better?"

"So far things are lookin' good, but don't look for a miracle, okay? We still don't know for certain how far he'll be able to recover from this."

Determination lighting light blue eyes, Tanner responded, "He's gonna be fine, Bucklin."

<C/V>

Josiah stood beside Chris' bed, taking his turn visiting their friend and boss. He was surprised to see the hazel-green eyes flutter, opening half way. "Chris? Are you with me?"

"Jo. . . Josiah?" The words were muted by the oxygen mask over the blond's face. Pale brows furrowing, he managed to ask, "Vin?"

"He's going to be fine. He was here last night, do you remember?"

Weakly shaking his head, Larabee said, "Wan't here. . . was. . . somewhere. . . somewhere else. Don't know. . . know where." Then a memory returned and he managed to say "W-Wade. . . Turn. . . Turner. . . that's who it. . . was."

"Wade Turner?" Quickly losing what little energy he could muster, Chris nodded, eyes drifting closed once more. Placing a hand on the prone man's shoulder, Sanchez continued. "Okay, you rest. We'll go find this Wade Turner."

<C/V>

The hours and days that followed tried the patience and stamina of the seven men.

Chris made a slow and steady progress, while Vin's progress was much quicker, and he was released on the second day after their arrival at the hospital. Released from a doctor's care meant that he spent most of his time in the hospital waiting room, going to Chris' side every time he could. The others worked on resolving this incident, quickly finding out where Wade Turner was. But something didn't make sense.

None of them, including Vin, could understand why Chris had named Wade Turner. Try as he might, the Texan could call up only vague memories of the experience that could help them. They decided that they must have the wrong man, but only Chris could answer that. As he grew stronger they once again questioned him, only to get the same response. Wade Turner had been their attacker. As one, the other six agreed to discuss it with him later.

Forensics turned up another mystery. They found nothing but evidence that Chris and Vin had been in the old house for several days. The theory that one of the investigators put forth, that the two of them had done this damage to one another, nearly resulted in his own injury. The members of Team Seven dismissed that theory quickly. If and until Larabee could shed more light on the incident, they were left with a mystery.

<C/V>

Larabee sighed as his head settled on the too-flat hospital pillow. He had moved from intensive to critical care, and was now - finally - in a regular room. The journey had taken two weeks, and he was becoming more and more difficult to deal with. As usually happened, a healing Chris was an irritable Chris.

The sound of the door opening brought him fully awake and he turned to see Vin slipping into the room. He smiled; the hospital personnel had only left a minute ago, after transporting him to this room. "What took you so long?"

"Got held up in traffic, smart ass," Vin quipped. Settling on the edge of the bed, he leaned down and delivered a soft, tender kiss to his partner. Leaning back, he asked, "How ya feelin'?"

"Tired at the moment, but okay," he answered honestly. He might not give an honest answer to the hospital personnel, but he had learned a long time ago not to try and lie to his lover. "Just glad to get into a regular room, maybe I'll get a little peace and quiet now."

"Wouldn't bet on it. Probably won't be quiet until after we get ya home."

"Probably." The blond reached out, taking hold of the one leaning on the bed. "How're you doing?"

"Been better, but been a lot worse."

"You getting any sleep? You look tired."

"Yes, Nathan, I'm gettin' sleep." Tugging at the other man's hand, he added in a husky voice, "Just don't sleep as well when I'm sleepin' alone. You know that."

"I should be home in a few days, if things go right. I promise I won't leave you sleeping alone any longer than necessary." He smiled, the expression broadening when Vin smiled back. Reaching for the controls, he raised the head of his bed.

"Good, means I get ta spoil ya for a few days then."

"Lookin' forward to it." His expression growing more serious now, Chris asked, "Have you remembered any more?"

With a sigh, Tanner said, "No, just cain't get my mind around any of it. I remember goin' to the house with ya. . . but then it all gets fuzzy. . . vague. A few pictures in my head, but ain't no one but me an' you in 'em. I know. . . I know someone else was there. Josiah said you called 'im by name, even. But fer the life of me, Chris, I can't."

Grasping his partner's hand more tightly, Larabee said, "Don't push it, Pard. Maybe it's better if you don't remember much."

"You ain't shared much. . . what do you remember?"

Heaving a sigh, Chris said softly, "I just remember that it was Wade Turner. That's all."

Looking into his lover's eyes, Vin wasn't certain that he was telling the entire truth, but decided that now wasn't the time to argue the point. Instead he said, "The boy's are comin' by after work. Reckon ya better get yer rest so you can deal with the whole bunch."

His expression lightening again, he replied, "I don't think all the rest in the world is enough to deal with this bunch."

As if on cue, the door opened, and their five friends entered the little room. Buck, in the lead, claimed the nearest chair, stretching out in it, long legs disappearing beneath his old friend's bed. "Hey, Stud, you're lookin' a lot better today."

"Indeed," Ezra concurred, "It's nice to see color in your cheeks, Mister Larabee."

Perching on the window sill, JD said, "Watch what you say, Ezra, Vin might take exception to you lookin' at Chris' cheeks."

"How crude," the Southerner grumbled. "I believe you're spending far too much time in Buck's presence."

"Well, hell, Ezra, I'm just givin' the boy the benefit of my experience."

Shaking his silver-crowned head, Josiah turned toward the bed-ridden man. "See what we're putting up with all day? You'd better hurry and get well, Boss, before they end up on report."

"You're in charge of the day care 'til I'm back," Chris said in way of response, getting chuckles from his friends and co-workers.

The seven men, together for the first time in almost three weeks, spent some time just talking and catching up. It was nearly an hour before Josiah brought up the business that was on all their minds. "Chris, we found Wade Turner."

Turning to the profiler, Chris waited for him to go on. When he didn't, he urged, "And?"

"I'm sorry, but it couldn't have been him."

"What do you mean?" He felt Vin's hand tighten around his, and felt some comfort in that touch.

Taking a sheet of paper out of his pocket, Sanchez opened it and read from the fax he'd received days earlier. Holding it up, he said, "Wade Turner never left prison."

"Past tense?"

Nodding, the older man went on. "The day before you two disappeared; Wade Turner went into a coma after attempting suicide. He never regained consciousness and died two weeks ago." As if to prove the point, he handed over the paper.

Vin took it, holding it for his partner to see. Both of them saw the copied death certificate, accompanied by a graphic picture of Turner, laid out on an autopsy table, his chest exposed in a "Y" by the medical examiner. Tanner frowned, turning confused eyes to his partner. "It must 'a been someone else, Cowboy."

While his mind whirled, Chris managed a hoarse whisper. "I. . . I guess so."

"But there's no evidence that anyone else was in the house," JD pointed out.

"Bastard just got rid of his fingerprints, is all," Buck insisted.

"And the. . . the other?"

The other six men simply stared at him. Finally Nathan spoke up, "There's no evidence that there was. . . well, no evidence that anyone else was there for that, either."

"But if there's no evidence, and the man Chris thought he saw was in a coma, then who - "

"Drop it." Larabee cut their youngest team member off.

"But, Chris - "

"I said, drop it. If there's no evidence to go on, and no clue as to who attacked us, then. . . we drop it."

The other six men stared at the seventh, not believing what they were hearing. Finally, Vin spoke up. "Chris, we can still investigate it. . . still figger out who did this. Maybe it was a friend of Turner's."

"Maybe." Larabee said softly. "Look, you guys want to pursue it, fine. You've got 'til I come back to work."

No one understood what was going on. The look on the blond's face told them clearly that he was withholding something. But that look also said that they didn't have a chance questioning him.

"Look, I'm kind of tired. I'll see you all tomorrow?"

Buck rose first, grabbing JD by the arm and heading for the door. "Yeah, we'll be here tomorrow after work. C'mon, Kid."

Ezra, Josiah and Nathan rose as well, making their way to the door, and offering their own promises to visit the next day. In less than a minute, Chris was once more alone with Vin.

"Cowboy, ya ain't foolin' nobody. There's more ta this then yer lettin' on."

Looking deep into his lover's eyes, Chris saw only confusion. Vin truly had no memory of what had happened. Then the mood was broken when the younger man let loose with a jaw-cracking yawn. Smiling, Larabee said, "We'll talk about it later." Reaching up, he stroked his fingers through the long, chestnut hair.

Vin nuzzled against that hand, sighing contentedly. He had missed that touch for far too long. "Keep that up, and I'm likely ta fall asleep. . ."

"Hm, then come down here." Gently but insistently, the blond coaxed his lover toward him. As Tanner carefully dropped to rest against his chest, he continued to stroke his fingers through the other man's long hair. "I've missed this."

"Mm, me, too." Vin yawned, finding himself quickly lulled toward sleep. The sound of Chris' heartbeat was the finest music he'd ever heard.

Staring down at his partner, Larabee couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It was short-lived, however. The vision of Wade Turner's ugly, smiling face tore away that contentment, leaving in its wake a feeling of dread.

Wade Turner had come to them while his body lay in a coma.

Would death be enough to keep him away?

The End?

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