Someone Out There

CHAPTER IV

If there was one thing Buck Wilmington didn't want to hear early morning of the day after, it was the incessant jingling of his cell phone. Why had he ever decided to make Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' into his bell tune? God, that high voice was aggravating when you had the killer hangover from Hell. It nicely annoyed Chris every single time it played, but right now he didn't really know if it was worth it.

"Wilmington," he shouted. If this was something trivial, someone was going to pay, even if it was Chris.

It wasn't his lover.

"Buck?" Vin's voice sounded timid and uncertain, sending off alarm bells inside Buck despite the horrible state of his head.

"Buck, I'm at the hospital."

"What? Oh my God, don't tell me you went driving last night after all! What happened?"

"It ain't me, Buck. It's Chris."

"Chris?" He couldn't wrap his mind around that statement. Off course it wasn't Chris. Chris was safely at the ranch, nursing his injuries. As a matter of fact, as soon as he felt a bit more human that was where Buck was going, since he was of the firm belief that nursing Chris' injuries was his sole prerogative.

"Yes, he's... he's been assaulted on the ranch. Yosemite found him when he went there to take care of the horses. He's back there now, since Pony needs taking care of and the vet was comin'."

"Yosemite? Yeah, I called him yesterday, 'cause I wanted to make sure he would be there to take care of the horses if I kept partying too long. You know Chris, he would've done it himself otherwise instead of waiting sensibly 'til I was there. What's wrong with Pony? Chris won't like that."

"Buck!"

"Chris can't be in the hospital," he finally voiced his feelings. "He's safely at home on the ranch."

Waiting for me...

"He's here, Buck and he needs ya. Just come."

"Buck? What's going on?" JD stood in the entrance of his room, looking disheveled, black hair sticking to all sides, the buttons of his pajama askew.

"That... that was Vin. Vin says Chris is in the hospital." Suddenly reality hit home. "Shit! Chris is in the hospital! Something about him being assaulted on the ranch! Where's my pants?"

JD drove, they both recognized Buck would be a grave danger behind the wheel right now. They entered the hospital running, JD trying to keep up with Buck. It was he who took the directions, since Buck was too agitated to wait and listen calmly.

"Inhere, Buck." They entered one of the hallways from ER. "The nurse said he's in the last examination room."

Buck was already hurrying again, although he couldn't run anymore, not in a hallway so full of gurneys, trolleys, and what not all. At the end his headlong dash was abruptly stopped by a police officer.

"Sir, you can't get in there."

"Like hell I can! That's my friend in there, so get out of my way!"

"Sir, your friend was assaulted! I'm here to make sure he's safe."

"Really?" Buck was already cocking his fist, when someone walked towards them. "It's alright, Jim, these really are friends. They are Larabee's men, just like me. Buck, let go of the attitude, Jim's only here to see to it that Chris is safe!"

"What happened? Where's Chris?"

"Chris is in here, still being treated. Buck, Buck, look at me! It's bad, all right, just be prepared for that."

Buck nodded, but right now he needed to be with Chris more than anything else. He pushed open the door and entered.

Chris was sitting on the examination table in a hospital gown, looking like he could topple over at any minute. He was pale, very pale, with bruises on his face and a nasty discoloration around his neck. Vaguely Buck thought he saw some vivid, red marks start on his right shoulder into the hospital gown.

"Chris?" he asked softly, unable to get as close as he wanted with a doctor still hovering over Chris. "Chris, what happened?"

The blond head came up and Buck saw anguished eyes. "Buck?" Chris asked in a voice Buck never had heard from him before, so lost and... small. Chris never was small.

"Hey, pard, I'm here. Please tell me what's going on?"

Chris swallowed and looked away. "Someone came... came into the house. I was asleep. I thought... I thought it was you."

Oh, Jesus. He stepped forward despite the doctor, wanting to reassure his lover. But before he could say something, the door opened behind him. When he looked back, he saw detective John Lassimer step inside.

"John? Why are you here?"

John frowned. "To do my job, Buck. Chris was assaulted, remember. So I'm here to question him."

"Oh, oh, right." He stepped aside to give John some space, smiling encouragingly at Chris. Chris' expression of despair didn't diminish though, he stared at John as if he saw a monster coming for him.

"Chris, I know this is difficult, but I need to know what happened."

Chris nodded. "I... I went to bed early. I was shot at our last bust, wasn't too serious anymore, but still painful and I wanted to get a long night sleep. I heard a noise around midnight and..." He looked away. "There were two of them," he said softly. "One upstairs, he nearly knocked me down the stairs and one in the kitchen. I had left my gun in my nightstand because... because..." He faltered, then mumbled, "Stupid," with disgust.

It tore at Buck's heart. "That's not stupid, Chris," he said with heat. "You just said you thought it was me! And then there's the painkillers you were taking. Makes your thinking fuzzy, you know that."

"That they can do," the doctor agreed.

John nodded. "So it was around midnight when you heard them? You knew that how? And why did you think it was Buck?"

"I've been coming over to help him since he was released from the hospital," Buck said hastily.

Chris looked at him. "Y... yeah," he whispered. "I had told him I didn't need him that night but Buck, he... he's worried easily. So when I thought it was him, I looked at the alarm clock to see if that was possible and since it was hardly Midnight yet...."

"And they assaulted you? I was led to believe you were found in the barn, in the stable of one of your horses?"

"Yes." Chris didn't try to hide the anguish in his face and voice, something which unnerved Buck. "I managed to get outside, but there they gained. I... I couldn't run very well with my leg. They got me, they were going to strangle me and when I escaped them, I couldn't think of anything else, I fled in Pony's stable." He looked at Buck now. "Pony saved my life, Buck. They wanted to come in after me with their knives, but Pony wouldn't let them. He... he fought with them I think. I need to know how he is doing!"

"I'll find out," Buck promised, having to force the words past the lump in his throat. Not yet Midnight... while Chris had been fighting for his life, he had still been partying. Partying!

John Lassimer stepped closer, his eyes intent on Chris. "Chris? There is one thing I have to ask you straight away, before we get into further details about what happened. Were you sexually assaulted?"

Buck couldn't help it. "What?" he exploded. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we should do a rape kit as soon as possible."

"No... no, Chris, you don't need a rape kit, do you? Chris?"

Chris looked away and Buck's heart plummeted to the ground. He had difficulty breathing when they led Chris away.

+ + + + + + +

It had been bad having let them take the pictures. Pictures of the bruises on his face and of the discoloration around his neck where he had been strangled. Pictures with his hospital gown taken down, so they could photograph the bite marks, bruises and deep scratches on his torso and the knife slashes on his back.

Even pictures of the discolorations left on his hips and buttocks from the hands gripping him and holding him down.

Like he was some thing, like he no longer had the right to some privacy. His most intimate parts now pieces in an impersonal file.

But nothing had prepared him for the horror of having to bend over on an examination table, the hospital gown pushed upwards to free his buttocks. Of feeling businesslike hands part his cheeks and then have something cold and metallic pushed inside.

He nearly bolted then and it was only Buck's hand on his shoulder and his soft murmuring voice that kept him lying over the table.

But, oh God, it hurt! Almost as much as...

No, he wasn't going to go there, not now. Instead he gripped Buck's hand, hard, and tried to keep breathing.

He groaned and almost jumped when he felt something more.

"What are you doing?" Buck immediately demanded angrily from the female doctor performing this humiliating task. At least it wasn't a man opening him up against his will... again.

He kept his grip on Buck's hand, not wanting Buck to make things worst.

"Don't worry, it is a simple procedure," the woman doctor said soothingly, whether to him or Buck he didn't know. Didn't care to know. "I have inserted a proctoscope and am now taking swaps from inside his rectum. They will be used for DNA testing. This shouldn't hurt."

Maybe it shouldn't, but it did. He grabbed Buck's hand harder.

"Please, Chris, it'll all be over soon, you'll see. It will be!" Buck said softly, almost despairingly. "Really."

"It won't be much longer," the woman doctor agreed. "Just one more."

"You hear that, Chris? Hang in there, buddy. She's almost done."

Finally he felt the metal slip out and he groaned in relief.

The doctor walked up and patted his shoulder briefly. "I have the swaps and they will be sent to the laboratory. But you have some nasty tears inside and I will have to treat them."

"No," he managed to get out, trying to get up.

"There is no choice. Left untreated they will get infected and believe me, you do not want that."

"Buck...," he pleaded.

Buck's hands gripped his. "I'm here, buddy, I'm here. But you really don't want to get an infection or something. Please, Chris?"

He nodded and gritted his teeth when she again took place behind him, again parted his cheeks and again pushed something hard inside him. "This is a plastic tube," the doctor explained, "a bit like a giant syringe and with it I will insert the medicine. It will disinfect the wounds, but I'm afraid it will sting a little."

Sting a little was an understatement and he was glad he was allowed to lie on the table afterwards, while his innards burned and he just wished he was dead.

Buck's soothing voice and strong hand holding onto his helped him past the feeling. No, he wouldn't wish he was dead, he had Buck holding onto him and five good friends who would be there for him. He could do this, he could.

+ + + + + + +

They settled him in a room first, before allowing Lassimer to question him again. His partner, a pretty, young woman, was with him this time.

"I know this can't be easy, Chris," Lassimer said softly, "but try to be as thorough as you can. You know the importance of that."

He nodded, looking at the young woman. He didn't know if he could talk about what happened in front of her. He looked at Buck, uncertain about it all. Buck was a dark, menacing presence, had been from the moment he had stepped inside the examination room and had seen him, but he had held his hand when he was examined inside and now he managed an encouraging smile.

He would just start at the beginning and see how far he was able to go. He shut away his emotions in a far corner of his mind and started relaying the events as if it had happened to someone else.

It worked. He managed to get through it all up and until the very end, where he had fled the two men into Pony's stable. That was when he looked at Buck imploringly. "Do you know how Pony is yet?"

"I phoned Yosemite while they were settling you in your room. He's doing fine. The vet has treated his knife wounds and Yosemite says there'll probably be no infection. But he'll keep an eye on him just in case."

"Knife wounds?" he whispered.

Buck nodded. "Seems they really did try to get past him and Pony wouldn't let them. Yosemite said that at first Pony didn't want to let him get to you either, standing over you and baring his teeth at him, even attacking him when he came into the stable anyway. That must've been difficult for him, trying to stay calm enough to coax the horse away, while seeing you lying there, hurt. Says at first he was afraid Pony had done it, but things didn't add up and Pony was clearly protecting you." Buck wiped his hand over his face and sighed. "Damn, we owe that horse!"

"Chris, let's go over it again," Lassimer interrupted. He nodded, resigned. This time his story was interrupted with lots of questions from the two detectives until he wanted to scream. It ended with Lassimer reading his description of the two men back to him.

"Good descriptions," he said satisfied, when Chris nodded he had it right. "Think you can do an artist's sketch?"

"Yes."

"Great. Alright, let's start at the beginning again."

"What?" Buck exploded. "This is ridiculous! He's been over it three times! You should be out there, looking for them!"

Lassimer's look wasn't friendly. "Maybe you should wait outside."

"No! You should be doing your job!"

His raised voice had the doctor hurrying inside. "Maybe you should all get out, I think my patient has had enough," he told them pointedly.

After everyone was ushered out, the doctor carefully took another look at him. "I think you are all set for the night, Chris. There are some friends outside who are very anxious to see you. In fact, they have been terrorizing the staff and me to be allowed inside. They can come in for a few minutes, before I'm ordering everyone away, all right?"

He didn't know if he wanted to see anyone else but Buck, but he knew he would have to face them at some point, so he tiredly nodded at the doctor.

A minute later his room was swarmed with five men, all demanding to know how he was feeling, while Buck hovered in the background.

He told them he was fine and would probably be going home tomorrow, all the while searching their faces, their eyes for some condemnation, some aversion. He didn't find it, only warm concern and a lot of anger towards the men who had attacked them.

"I'm gonna make them pay," Vin whispered softly in his ear before being almost removed by force. "Pay dearly!"

"Thanks," he whispered back, not because of Vin's vow of revenge, but for the sentiment behind it.

Still, it was hard that he hadn't been able to hide what had been done to him. He was a marked man from now on, a trained agent who had let himself be taken.

He had hoped Buck would be allowed to stay, but he was ushered outside with the rest of them. There definitely were drawbacks to living a secret life.

+ + + + + + +

Buck wasn't leaving the hospital and, not surprising, neither were Vin and Ezra. He was pacing like a caged panther before Chris' door, until they were all three directed to a waiting area. There he saw something which made his anger sore even more.

Lassimer was still there, fighting the coffee machine.

"What're you still doing here?" he asked bitterly. Their team wasn't allowed to go after Chris' attacker because they were too involved and moreover, because it wasn't an ATF job, and here Lassimer was doing nothing. "You think the bastards that attacked Chris are in the hospital?"

"Since Chris managed to wound them some, maybe. I've seen stranger things, Buck and so have you in your Denver PD days. No, I'm here because I've got a few questions for you and your friends. Where were you last night for instance?"

Buck felt a surge of anger so profound it was a miracle he didn't punch Lassimer right then and there. "What are you getting at?" he asked softly. "You think I did it? To my... my best friend?"

To the man I love above everyone and everything else, his mind screamed inside him.

"People do it every day, Buck. And sometimes worse than this, you know that too."

He launched himself at Lassimer, determined to wring the man's neck like those bastards had tried to wring Chris's, but luckily Vin and Ezra had picked up on things and were there in time to stop him.

"Jesus, Buck," Vin hissed. "What you think you're doin'?"

"He had the nerve to ask me where I was, as if I would... I would... I'm gonna kill him for that!"

"Get a grip!" Vin looked at Lassimer coldly. "You suggestin' Chris was lyin' to you 'bout what 'appened to him?"

"Wilmington was hovering over him the whole time," Lassimer defended himself.

"Yeah, and everybody knows how easy it is to scare Larabee."

Lassimer sighed and grabbed the coffee the machine had finally produced. "I know, I'm sorry. But the way Buck keeps coming at me like I don't know what my job is got to me. I was just getting some coffee while waiting for Jo-Anne, for crying out loud."

"Buck is extremely sorry," Ezra said, his voice as cold as Vin's had been. "He will leave you and your colleague to do their job from now on, won't you, Buck?"

"Sure!" Buck shrugged his friend's hands off and watched Lassimer go to Jo-Anne, who had emerged from the ladies room. Then he purposefully grabbed his jacket and walked away. Vin and Ezra immediately followed.

"Where ya goin', Buck?"

"What is the nature of the emergency?"

"I'm going to look for these animals," Buck hissed through clenched teeth, his anger still hard and cold inside him. He couldn't stay here, he had to do something, anything. He needed to get his hands on these bastards who had dared to do... that to Chris, his Chris!

"But, Mister Wilmington, you do not know who these reprobates are!"

"No, but I know what they look like!" He turned at his friends savagely. "I've heard Chris describe them enough times in there," he nodded in the general direction of Chris' room, "because that bastard Lassimer was making him go through it over and over again!"

"The man was doin' his job, Buck! 'Sides, the police is already loookin'."

"They don't know nothing! I know this city and I'm gonna find him!"

He turned around and marched off, almost running. It was Ezra who eventually caught up with him to accompany him. That didn't surprise him, he knew Vin's need for revenge was at least equalized by his need to stay with Chris. The same was true for Ezra, but when it came to persuasion, Vin could be very effective.

He felt a stab of guilt for leaving Chris, but he also felt that nothing would ever be right again until his two attackers were caught.

+ + + + + + +

On some level Chris knew he was asleep. Unfortunately it didn't make the hands less real, the hands that were ripping off his clothes, were hurting him and then...

He woke up with a gasp, sitting bold upright in the bed. Looking around he recognized the hospital room and slowly his heart regained its normal beating. A nurse came inside, looking worried.

"Are you in pain?" she asked softly. "Do you need something?"

He shook his head. "Just... can I see my friend?"

She hesitated only briefly before she nodded. "He can come in for a little while; maybe it will help you relax some." Her sympathetic smile cut him like a knife. Did they all know?

The door opened again and eagerly he turned towards it. But it wasn't Buck who came inside, it was Vin. He grabbed the forearm of his best friend like a lifeline, simply holding on, while Vin returned his grip and sat with him in silence.

Finally he had to ask. "Where's Buck?"

"He'll be back, Chris. And until he is I'll stay with you, ya won't be alone. Come on, try to sleep, ya need it."

He wanted to protest, wanted to hear more, but his body betrayed him and he was asleep before he knew it.

That whole night when he woke from a nightmare, Vin was there, silently holding on to him. Chris didn't know how Vin had persuaded the nurses to let him stay, he was just grateful that he had.

He only wished Buck was there as well.

+ + + + + + +

Due to his internal tears the doctor refused to release Chris the next day, wanting to monitor for possible infections a while longer and he was forced to lay patiently in his hospital bed, trying not to think about what had happened to him.

Things would have been much better if Buck had been at his side, but after a brief and anxious visit early in the morning it wasn't until the afternoon before he came again, looking harassed and exhausted. Because of Orin Travis' visit Chris knew exhausted might be an understatement.

Chris had found it extremely difficult to cope with Orin Travis sitting beside his bed. It had been hard enough to look the six men into the eyes he knew were his friends, but he definitely felt on edge with his superior. He hadn't wanted to talk about what had happened with Travis, giving evasive answers about how he felt and how he was coping. Travis had clearly felt awkward about it all as well and the topic had soon changed to something else.

To Buck.

"You look worse than me, Buck," Chris greeted his friend, who was pacing through the room and kept smoothing his hair back. God, he wished Buck would just come and sit with him, hold him....

Get a grip, he told himself angrily. This is a public place after all.

"I'm fine!" Buck snapped.

"No, you're not! Buck, Travis has been here and he wasn't pleased about your actions from last night. Is that what you were doing after you were here this morning as well, hunting the streets for some clues about... about who did it?"

"Yes, I was. You have a problem with that? Don't you want us to get these bastards?"

That hurt, that hurt a lot.

"Oh, geez, Chris, I'm sorry! I didn't mean that, truly I didn't. I just..." Now Buck finally was close, holding his hand.

"Didn't you?" he asked, having to force his words out. "Maybe you think I let them or something? Wanted it?"

"No, no, off course not!" Buck reared back as if slapped. "How can you say that? I know you didn't let them do anything, don't you ever doubt that! Chris? Please, look at me."

Chris did. The anguish in Buck's eyes was plain to see and made him feel bad about his accusation. He knew Buck better than that.

"I'm sorry, Buck."

"No, no, I'm sorry! I'm not handling this at all well, am I?" Buck sighed and set down in the chair beside the bed. "I'm just so angry, Chris, that I have to do something, have to move! I'll be there more for you from now on, I promise."

Chris smiled at his lover. "Thanks," he said softly.

They sat awhile in silent companionship and Chris felt instantly better. Tomorrow he would be home and then he could shelter properly in Buck's arms. Maybe that would take some of the hurt away.

+ + + + + + +

Stubbornly Chris evaded Buck's hand and walked on to the stable. Well, staggered would have been closer to the truth.

"Dammit, Chris!" Buck yelled, coming after him. "You have to go to bed, you're in no condition to walk around and you know it!"

"I don't care, I'm going to see Pony."

He swallowed when he saw the place where... God, the grass was still trampled! Hastily he averted his eyes and walked on. Before he opened the barn door, he looked back, to see why Buck had stayed behind.

His lover was standing at that one spot, staring at it. From where he was Chris couldn't see the expression on his face and he was glad of that. He turned away and awkwardly tried to open the big, heavy door.

"Here." Buck had come up and did it for him. He looked pale and pushed the door open with angry force.

Their eyes met and then Buck made a gesture with his head. "Go on, then. I'll be right by your side."

Pony was already whinnying in his stable, his big, beautiful head hanging over the door. As fast as he could, Chris went to him, scratching him behind his ears. Pony gave a huge snort and let his head droop.

"Big lump, you know you are a hero, don't you? Here, for you, for saving my life." He handed over the sugar cubes the hospital had given him with his coffee and soft lips took them carefully from his hand.

"You see? He's alright. Now can we go inside?"

"Not before I've seen him completely. I want to see what those bastards did to him, Buck."

"Shit, Chris! Can't you do that later? Right now you need to get into bed!"

He fumbled with the stable door himself, but as he knew would happen, Buck quickly took over. He stepped inside and Pony immediately came close, leaning against him, the big head resting on his shoulder.

"God, Buck, they really cut him!"

Careful not to touch the stitched lacerations, he followed them with his finger held just above them. "Bastards," he whispered.

"You know those slashes were meant for you, don't you?" Buck asked, his voice tight.

When he looked up, he saw the unshed tears glitter in Buck's eyes. He nodded, not knowing what to say to that.

"Sorry, off course you know. Now can I get you to bed?"

"Yeah, guess so." He scratched Pony for a last time and limped to the house, leaving Buck to lock everything up. The slow rate he was going, Buck was next to him before he even reached the porch.

"You need your pain medication."

"I guess."

"Can you get upstairs by yourself? I'll follow with your pills."

He nodded and went to the stairs, but once there he could only stare at them and at the place, high up, where the attack had started.

"Chris? You need help?"

A protective shadow hovered over him, chasing the memories away.

"Come, I'll support you."

With Buck's hand under his arm he managed the climb, cursing silently at his unwilling body.

Once there, the first thing Chris did was make a beeline for the shower. He had been cleaned in the hospital, as a matter of fact the memory of it still made him cringe, but it just wasn't the same as a good, hot shower. After Buck had renewed the bandages, he rolled into bed, completely exhausted from doing practically nothing.

When he woke up, Buck had a late lunch ready for him. He didn't see much of his lover, since it seemed Buck was involved in some project or other that inquired a lot of hammering. The guys all came over, having taken a very liberal view on what constituted for 'end of the workday'. Josiah soon took a hammer and some nails and went off to help Buck with what turned out to be the securing of all their windows. And Nathan had brought some really good soup and chicken with noodles for dinner.

Off course everyone stayed to help eat it, then to help clean up and after that because everyone else was staying as well, until they saw he could hardly keep his eyes open. That was when Nathan ushered him upstairs and into his bathroom, where he took a good look at his wounds. Chris hated every minute of it, but it beat being back in the hospital and have strangers do it.

"You want me to help you to bed, Chris?" he asked softly, once he was done.

"No."

"Don't forget to take your pain medication, you look like you need it."

He didn't answer. He still had the feeling the pain medication for his bullet wounds was one of the reasons those men had gotten him so easily.

"Chris, when I wake up in the middle of the night because of a noise, taking my gun with me ain't exactly the first thing that comes to my mind."

He glared at Nathan.

"Damn it, you need to sleep and you won't be able to without it. Take it."

"Later."

"Chris..."

"He'll take them, Nate, I'll see to that," Buck said softly, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. His face looked haggard and it pained Chris to see him like this.

"You better do, Buck."

"Don't worry."

While the rest of the team was noisily making an exit, Buck brought him the pills and a glass of water. "I'm here now, Chris," he said softly. "You can afford to let go. I'll keep guard."

Chris sighed. If this was what Buck needed... having the feeling he was protecting Chris, it was what Chris would give him. Everything to get that haunted look out of his lover's eyes.

After Buck had gone downstairs again, Chris went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. What stopped him was the face staring back at him from the mirror. Lightly he touched his bruises and then the discoloration around his neck. He pushed his shirt down from his right shoulder and looked at the long, angry red scratches and bite marks. He had been given a tetanus injection because of those.

It was all still there, the marks of those men on him; he just couldn't get rid of them. His hand went again to the big bruises on his face and neck. He remembered the fight for breath vividly, like he unfortunately remembered everything else.

He wished he didn't.

With a fierce determination he stopped himself from getting into the shower again, which would only soil the fresh bandages Nathan had put around him. What he needed now was to just cuddle up with Buck and let it all be for a while.

When he came into the bedroom Buck hadn't come back yet. A noise from downstairs froze him and all of a sudden he felt as if he was back in that fateful night. He grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants, suddenly not wanting to be naked and went carefully out of the door, until he was standing at the edge of the stairs.

More noises.

"Buck?" he yelled, fearful something had happened to him. Why hadn't he been upstairs, so they could have gone to bed together? He knew it was early, but they'd done that plenty of times, going to bed early together always felt like a gift.

A shadowy figure showed up at the bottom of the stairs. "Chris? Go on, go to sleep, you're safe."

"Ain't you coming?"

"I don't want you to worry, Chris. You just go to sleep, I'll keep an eye on things. You know I've made the windows more secure, so no one will be able to get into the house from now on."

"Buck..."

"Just go to sleep, Chris, you need it."

In the end he went to the big bed alone. He curled up, wrapping his good arm around himself, wishing for Buck to hold him, so he could maybe fight off the utter despair he was feeling.

And the deep fear nothing would ever be the same again.

CHAPTER V

"Hey, Cowboy."

Chris turned around from where he was slowly and painfully brushing Pony. He had been home for a week now, but still everything hurt, even inside.

Especially inside where his heart was.

"Hi, Vin," he answered listlessly.

"You look like shit and you sound like shit."

"Thanks."

Pony butted his head against him and he couldn't help the hiss of pain. Immediately Vin was beside him, arm around his shoulders, ready to hold him up. He couldn't help himself, he leaned into that touch gratefully.

Shit, he hadn't meant to let go of himself like this. Quickly he straightened himself and went back to brushing Pony, who immediately drooped his big head in bliss.

"He sure likes pamperin', don't he?" Vin chuckled, as if nothing had happened. "Sometimes I wished Peso would enjoy it as much."

"He does, just in a different way."

"Yeah, the 'can I get a bite in' way. Great game... for him!" Vin said wryly, watching Peso's head come up over the stable door as if he knew he was the topic of conversation. "Yeah, you, big lughead." Vin went to him and scratched him obediently behind the ears, which Peso gracefully allowed as soon as he was given an apple Vin just happened to have on him. Chris smiled, seeing the two of them together.

"Where's Buck, anyway?" Vin asked.

Chris shrugged. "Somewhere, I guess."

"Everything alright 'tween the two of you?"

The question stilled Chris' hand and he leaned against Pony for support. The horse immediately stood completely still, whinnying softly at his owner.

"Chris?" Vin asked, worried. "Maybe I better take y' inside."

"Nah, I'm good."

"I can see that." Vin put his hand on his shoulder and gently coaxed him into turning around. "Talk to me, Cowboy."

That wasn't easy. Chris never, ever talked about him and Buck. The team knew, how could they not, but still he liked to pretend they didn't and he had been very firm with Buck about that as well. But this time he felt overwhelmed and this, well, this was Vin, his best friend, the man who understood him even better than Buck did.

"Buck, he's... distant. Can't hardly even look at me," he confessed softly.

Vin squeezed his shoulder. "Give him time, Chris. Can't be easy for him."

"Yeah, well." Chris shrugged and stepped away from Vin, putting the brush back on Pony's already shiny coat. "Guess I can't blame him. Damaged goods and all."

"Don't!" Vin's arms were around him again, holding him. "Don't say that," Vin breathed in his ear, not letting go. "Don't you ever think that way! Don't even joke 'bout it!"

He leaned into the embrace gratefully. Here was someone who knew and still held him with affection. It made something hard and painful dissolve a little bit in his heart. Vin tightened his embrace, although he did it carefully and whispered softly, "Don't worry, I'll go and kick his ass!"

"No! No, Vin, I reckon this is between Buck and me and I don't want him bullied into anything." He turned around, so Vin had to let go. "He'll either accept this, me, or he doesn't. It ain't something you can force."

"He still loves you, Chris, it's clear in the way he looks at ya. Might be 'cause of all them wounds."

"But it's been over a week! Why can't he touch me or even simply come to bed with me? I just want him to..." Chris bit his lip and looked away. He decided he had said enough as it was. He stepped away from Vin, highly embarrassed now.

"It's alright, Chris," Vin said softly. "We're alright! And you and Buck 'll be too, you'll see. Yours is a rare love." There was something wistful in the young man's voice, which made Chris look at him again.

Vin merely smiled and took Pony's halter. "I'll put Pony back into his stable and then we're gonna have some lunch. I've done the shopping for you two, which means it's the good stuff."

"Good stuff? Like ice cream and chocolate?" Chris snorted, going along with the change of mood gratefully. "I'm sure Buck asked you to buy real food, Tanner."

"Hey, that's food! You need your strength back, so just go and pamper yourself for a while." The young man grinned mischievously. "Ain't possible to eat too much ice cream and chocolate!"

In companionable silence they walked back to the kitchen, Chris feeling better than he had since this whole ordeal began. On the kitchen table he saw the boxes and bags Vin had already brought in.

"Ice cream's already in the fridge, won't risk it melting for anyone, you know that."

"Yeah, I do. Hey, a newspaper?"

"That's for me, you know I ain't subscribed to one, waist of money since I can read them at the office most of the time."

"Mind if I take a look? Couldn't find ours this morning and Buck only grunted when I asked. Oh..."

He had flipped the paper, so he could see the opening story and just stood there, staring.

"What is it, Chris?"

"Another one..."

Vin leaned over his shoulder and looked at the picture of the small, dark haired boy. "God, he's real young, only eight."

"Sexually assaulted," Chris said softly, staring at the picture. "That's sick!"

"It's a sick world out there." Carefully Vin took the paper from Chris' hand and pushed him down in one of the kitchen chairs. Chris winced, the pain bringing him back to the here and now.

"A kid, Vin. Again in the neighborhood where Buck and JD live. I think it's them."

"Aw hell, you know rapists tend to go for the same kind of person every time. Hate to break it to you, Chris, but y' ain't anywhere near bein' a kid's age. Here, coffee."

Chris kept staring at the picture. "But it's a boy, not a girl. The third male rape in only two months! And they were going to do it again, I know they were. They kept smiling the whole time they were... Shit!" He rubbed his face, feeling utterly exhausted. "Sometimes I think they liked it so much that they have to come back."

That thought was followed by a hard thump. Vin had put the bowl of ice cream he had made for Chris with such force on the table the ice cream nearly jumped out.

"Not goin' to happen," he gritted out, glaring at Chris, who understood with horror he had spoken aloud. He really needed to get a grip on himself. "Those bastards know you can ID them, they're millions of miles away by now!"

Chris stared at the newspaper, doubting Vin's words very, very much.

Yes, he was the one who could ID them. In fact, that was what he was going to do tomorrow, with the help of the sketch artist from the police.

+ + + + + + +

The police station was crowded, as crowded as Chris remembered it to be from his own days at the Denver PD. Always crime and criminals to fight in Denver, like in any big city. Taking a deep breath he plunged into the melee and tried to ignore the covert looks.

He could see them think it. He, a hardened, seasoned law enforcer, had let two men take him. Where had been his gun, where had been his fighting skills? How could he have let that happen to him?

He was glad when a young officer let him to a quiet room that held nothing but a bunch of computers and one man. The sketch artist, although maybe that wasn't the right name, since the man wasn't sketching at all, but manipulating an image through a computer program.

"Let's start with you giving me a description, first one, then the other," the man suggested. "I'll make a first composition from that and then we'll go over all the details."

"Fine."

Soon one of the faces took shape. "The chin was a bit smaller, sharper and the cheekbones were higher."

"You have a good eye. Most people, they don't come further than tall, with brown hair."

"Guess it comes with the job."

The man looked up from the computer. "Oh, yes, you are some kind of law enforcer, aren't you? I believe some officers here mentioned they've known you from when you worked here?"

"I did work here, once." Then, to steer the conversation away from this particular topic, he nodded to the portrait getting shape on the computer screen. "Eyes were a bit more slanted, but I can't give you their color. Too dark for that."

"Like this?"

"Yeah." He felt sick. "Yeah, that's him, that's one of the bastards."

+ + + + + + +

They had told him not to go inside with Chris, something about Chris needing to concentrate and not being influenced, so Buck had decided to go and pay Lassimer a visit. He wanted to hear they had some results, damn it!

When he reached Lassimer's desk, the man wasn't there. He was just about to ask someone about the detective, when the door to the crowded bullpen opened and Lassimer sauntered inside, holding, of all things, a sack with donuts.

"Buck," the man said coolly, while he hung away his jacket.

"I called you this morning," Buck said equally cold.

"I know."

"Then why didn't you answer my calls?"

"Because I knew Chris would be coming in to make those sketches and I was busy."

"Busy? Busy?" Buck was yelling now. "Yeah, I can see that! Busy getting yourself donuts! When are you gonna catch these killers?"

Lassimer turned away from his desk and quickly closed the distance between them. "You wanna know what I was busy with, Buck?" he yelled right back.

"Yeah, I wanna know what you did this morning!"

"I was here at six a.m. and spend five hours looking through tire mark plates, trying to find a match for the one we found at Chris' place, that's what!"

He stepped back and suddenly looked utterly exhausted. "You think you're the only one who don't find this going fast enough? Well, it doesn't go fast enough for me either."

Buck swallowed and looked away. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's just that... it's eating away at me, what... what they did to Chris. He tries not to show it, John, but it's obvious he's still in pain."

What else could he be with his innards ripped open the way they had been, Buck thought to himself bitterly. God, just thinking about how Chris had been after they had had to treat his rectum again at the hospital, white as a sheet and trembling uncontrollably, was enough to make him want to puke.

"We... we had a hell of a week", he confessed. "He's got these awful nightmares. And he's still not cleared for work medically, which tells me enough."

A hand was put on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Buck. I swear we're doing all we can."

"Just get them, John, just get the bastards so Chris can sleep again."

"Buck?" Chris was standing there, an unfathomable look on his face. Jesus, how much had he heard? He decided to play the innocent and smiled at his lover.

"Hey, Chris. You're done? Then let's get out of this place!"

"In a minute. Lassimer, you know about that boy that's been assaulted? It was in the papers yesterday."

"Yeah."

"I think it's the same men. I think that kid Buck knew, Jamie Sullivan, this one and me, it's all done by the same two men."

"Chris, you've been in law enforcement long enough to know that serial killers or serial rapists have a very specific victim profile. You and those two kids, you couldn't be more different."

"Damn it, John...."

"No!" Lassimer was holding up his hand. "Don't try and tell me how to do my job, I wouldn't do that to you either! I know what I'm doing and I'm telling you, it can't be the same guys. That first kid, Jamie, he was abducted in the open and taken somewhere. Abductors don't go breaking into houses. And no sexual offender goes for kids one time and adults the other, you know that!"

"I'm telling you it's all these same two men," Chris said softly, with something very deadly in his voice. Although he had to agree with Lassimer, Buck was glad to hear that lethalness in Chris' voice again.

Lassimer shook his head and grabbed some papers from his desk. "Just go home, you two. I'll call as soon as I have something, I promise. But right now I have some sketches to get to the chief, so we can get them out on the wires."

He brushed past them, not looking back. Not seeing how Chris' shoulders slumped. Buck sighed. "You know he's right, Chris. Don't let it get to you, those bastards will get caught. Me and the boys are planning to do a little investigating on our own as well, ain't a soul who can stop us from doing that, not even Travis. Let's just go home, all right?"

"All right."

Buck didn't like how soft, how small Chris' answer sounded. He walked quickly to the door, to leave and take Chris away from this depressing place. It wasn't until he was at the main exit and planned to step outside that he realized Chris was no longer behind him. In fact, he didn't see him anywhere. With a curse he hurried back into the precinct.

+ + + + + + +

Chris had started to follow Buck, still enraged with what he had heard from the conversation about him and with Lassimer brushing him off like that, when he saw a man and a woman exit one of the smaller offices. Their faces were grief stricken and they were holding each other up while they walked to a bench and sat down on it, the woman slumped forward.

He recognized those two faces; he had seen them in this morning's newspaper.

He didn't want to intrude on their grieve, but he also didn't want to spoil this opportunity. So it was only after a slight hesitation that he walked up to them and kneeled beside the bench.

"Mister and Mrs. Miller?" he asked softly.

The man looked up at him, still holding his wife.

"Yes."

"I'm Chris Larabee. I was wondering if I could talk to you about... about what happened to your son?"

The man's eyes hardened. "Are you one of those damn reporters? Isn't anything sacred to your kind?"

Chris flinched at the harsh hatred in those words, but before he could answer, the woman had already laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Don't, Mark, please! I don't think he's a reporter. I... I think I've seen his face before? In the paper? Oh, you were the man who has been r... assaulted about a week ago!"

Twelve days by now, but who was counting. He nodded. "I just wanted to know if you can tell me anything, anything at all about the attack."

Tears came as she whispered. "The man strangled him. He strangled our baby, our son! But first he marked him with a knife. Sl... slashed him. He must've been in so much pain, but we didn't hear it! In our own home and we didn't hear a thing! Why didn't we hear anything?"

Mark Miller gathered his wife in his arms, softly rocking her. "He came through our son's bedroom window and left through the front door. And we never knew until we found him the next morning. We failed him, we failed him utterly."

Chris' throat constricted. God, he knew the feeling, the feeling of not having been there, of having failed to prevent the worst from happening.

"Nothing you could do," he whispered, "nothing at all. Don't tell yourself you could, 'cause it just ain't true. No one's to blame except the bastards that did this."

"What are you doing here, Larabee?"

Chris stood and turned. A very angry Chief of police was walking towards him.

"I talked to the Millers here and I think their boy is the victim of the same men who attacked me. I think they also killed Jamie Sullivan."

"Let me make this very clear, Larabee. I can understand you wanting to follow your own case, but I won't tolerate interference in our ongoing investigations from you or anyone else! Do I make myself clear?"

"Damn it, I'm telling you it's the same men in all three cases! Strangulation, slashes with a knife, it's them! They came through the window at my house too! Come in through the window and leave through the door."

"It doesn't match the profile."

Chris had had enough. He stepped forward menacingly, his eyes never leaving the Chief of police. "They don't care about your profile! Don't you listen to me? There's two of them, two, how's that for a profile! And I saw their eyes, I saw how much they enjoyed..." He stopped, he couldn't go further down that path. "I'm telling you, these are animals and they're not gonna stop!"

Tense with anger he walked away.

He was halfway down the hall towards the exit when Buck found him and started yelling. Chris immediately shut him out and brushed past him without saying a word. He couldn't deal with Buck's emotions right now; he had a hard enough time with his own.

It wasn't until they had reached the ranch that he finally managed to say something to Buck's urgent questions.

"First Jamie, now this boy, it's the same men, Buck, the same men who attacked me. And they'll come back for me. They have to, I'm the only witness."

"Chris..."

But he was already through the door, up the steps, on his way to the shower. God, he needed a good, long, hot shower!

+ + + + + + +

The next day Buck was fidgeting at breakfast.

"Just spill it, Buck," Chris said tired. He hadn't been able to sleep, upstairs, alone in that big, cold bed, feeling hands all over him whenever he closed his eyes and started to drift to sleep, seeing those awful, satisfied smirks again and again.

He had needed Buck to be with him so badly, but he hadn't had it in him to ask anymore. Every night Buck was sitting downstairs, weapons ready in silent vigil. Or he was out, roaming the streets of Denver to find his assailants, leaving Vin or Josiah with him. And last night he just couldn't bare another refusal from Buck.

Chris could still kick himself for having blurted out his belief the bastards would come back for him. That sure was the right way to have Buck give up on being his guardian and come back to being his lover.

Damn it, he didn't need Buck to be his guardian, if he needed a guardian the others would be more than happy to pitch in. What he needed was Buck's love. He needed it more than he had anytime before.

Not that he could really blame Buck. He could hardly stand touching himself, let alone expect it from someone else.

"Chris? Is everything all right? If you don't want me to go to the office, Travis can screw himself. I'll even hand in my resignation if I have to."

Shit, he had asked Buck a question and had totally missed hearing the answer. What Buck said now answered him just as well, though. Buck wasn't happy about going to work, about leaving him alone.

"Just go. I'm still a law enforcer last time I looked. I can take care of myself." If you'd let me, he thought angrily. If you'd just let me and became my lover again.

"But you're still hurt."

"Yeah, don't I know it," he said bitterly, "since you're constantly reminding me of it anyway."

"What? I don't..."

"Yeah, you do! Sitting vigil night after night or roaming the streets, instead of coming to bed with me!"

"Damn it, Chris! You said you were afraid those guys might come back! You're the one with nightmares every night!"

"And you don't even want to hold me," Chris whispered.

"What?" Buck looked like Chris had slapped him. "I'm there for you, how can you say that? I'm there for you all the time!"

Chris had to grip his coffee with force to keep himself from trembling. "Just go to work, Buck. I'm fine."

Buck stopped next to him and waited until Chris finally looked up. "Chris, don't shut me out. I'll keep you safe from now on. I will."

"You haven't heard a single thing of what I said, did you, Buck?" he asked. But he was talking to thin air, Buck had already left.

He didn't know how long he just sat there, holding his coffee gone cold a long time ago. All he knew was, that he felt utterly alone, as alone as after Sarah's and Adam's death. Finally he put down the coffee mug with shaking hands.

He didn't know how long he could go on like this.

Maybe he should ask Buck to leave. He would still miss his lover terribly, but at least he wouldn't have him around constantly, around and not there at the same time.

God, he needed a drink.

No, too early even for him, better go for some distraction.

He was just putting on his boots to go to Pony and see if they were both healed enough for some riding, when he heard it. A crash somewhere in the back of the house. He grabbed his gun, took off the safety and cautiously left the kitchen.

He heard something in the den.

Immediately he flattened himself at the wall.

Was that the sound of one of the glass doors opening?

"Freeze!" he yelled. He threw himself through the door opening, gun at the ready, but all he saw was something move away hastily beyond the now open glass doors.

Shit!

He pushed himself from the floor and limped to the doors, looking into the yard.

No one.

No one at all.

Cautiously he stepped outside, gun at the ready, looking around him. Then he heard it, from the direction of the small mountain road that led to his estate, the engine of a car coming to life. They were leaving.

Suddenly his legs started to shake and he sank down against the glass behind him.

They had been here. They had come for him the moment Buck had left and he had been alone for the first time since the attack.

They were watching him, the bastards were watching him.

+ + + + + + +

"Why didn't you call the moment you heard something?" Buck yelled, still feeling that sickening wrench in his guts that had logged inside him the minute Chris' voice had come over the phone, telling him what had happened. He had turned his pickup immediately, phoning first Josiah and then Lassimer as he went.

"I handled it," Chris told him coldly, "so you can stop patronizing me."

Policemen were walking outside, trying to find any sign of the two men having been there. All they had found was a window open at the back of the house, the one in Chris' study and it had made Lassimer shake his head. "I don't know, Chris, I just don't see it. Are you sure that window wasn't open to begin with? I mean, it's summer, the weather is great, you leave windows open on days like this while you're at home, don't you?"

Buck was nodding before he could help himself and he immediately saw it was a mistake. Chris shuttered down completely and grabbed the whiskey bottle already on the kitchen table.

He didn't offer it to anybody else, only poured a shot glass for himself and tossed it down in one gulp.

Damn, it wasn't even midmorning!

"I know what I heard," Chris told them acidly, ignoring Buck's disapproving and Lassimer's shocked look while he downed another whiskey. "And if you don't mind, I'm going to see if the horses ain't too disturbed by all this." He indicated the policemen trumping around.

He sighed while he watched Chris walk away. From him. That's how it felt, that Chris was walking away from him, that he was losing him to the awful thing that had been done to him.

Chris' nightmares still were terrible and every time he felt totally helpless, helpless from stopping Chris to relive it all again. He didn't know what else he could do but try and make everything safe for him, as safe as could be. That should help Chris sleep, shouldn't it?

God, he was tired. He was so fucking tired. He couldn't remember the last full night of sleep he had had.

"Why ain't you with Chris?" an accusing voice asked him. Vin. Vin had been giving him odd, sometimes downright angry looks ever since last Monday. He radiated anger right now as well. Buck was getting damn tired of his attitude.

Before he could open his mouth and give a sharp reply, Josiah stepped up. "Go to Chris, Buck," he said softly. "The thickhead probably acts like he doesn't need you, but we all know he does. We'll handle the rest. JD and Ezra are already looking around and Nathan is getting his gear out of the van to give Chris a proper look over."

"Jesus! Is everyone here?"

"Off course we are," Josiah said, his eyebrows raised in astonishment over the question. "Now, go to Chris."

He sighed and nodded. Ignoring Vin's hard, angry glare, he walked to the barn. The screaming of a horse made him go from tired walk to fast run within a second. He thought he heard Vin shout, but he didn't pay attention. Something was happening in the barn and Chris was there.

A police officer came running outside, yelling for medical assistance. Buck didn't know he had it in him, but it made him go even faster. He skidded through the door, only to be confronted with a black fury. He narrowly escaped a flying hoof and then a lean body was between him and the black monster.

"Keep everyone out!" Chris hissed in between his soothing words to Pony. Carefully Buck inched back and stopped everyone who, like him, was coming at a run.

"It's Pony. Chris needs some time to settle him." He went back to the door, this time staying out, but close enough so he would at least be able to keep an eye on things.

On Chris.

Maybe it was all of five minutes, but to Buck it seemed like an eternity before Chris had settled the angry horse. When Pony was safely stabled at the back of the barn, Chris right there with him, Nathan hurried inside to the wounded cop sitting dazed in a corner.

"What happened?" Buck asked, walking over to join Chris and Pony, but thinking better of it when Pony's angry head came over the door snapping at him.

"I was just taking Pony out of his stable to put him in here, farther away from all the noise and commotion, when he," Chris nodded to the wounded officer, "and his partner came marching in. Pony thought I was in danger and attacked. That's gonna be a problem, Buck."

"I ain't complaining, I kinda like him trying to protect you." Buck crossed his arms, determined not to let anyone get to Pony and Chris. "They better not try and start something against that horse. He's a hero in my book!"

"Nathan?" Chris yelled, leaning over the door right beside Pony's tossing head and looking at the wounded cop, who was tended by the medic, "how is he?"

"Dazed, with an enormous bruise at his side. He's been lucky, Chris," Nathan said disapprovingly.

"I know. I hadn't thought anyone would come in. But then, I hadn't thought Pony would attack so ferociously as he did either. He never did, before...." He fell silent.

The leading officer of the police unit walked into the barn with Lassimer right behind him. Vin had come up as well and was leaning casually against the stable door. Now why didn't that ornery beast try to nip him, Buck wondered with some irritation.

When Pony noticed the two unknown men approaching, he stopped nibbling Chris' hair. He swiveled his head towards this new threat and showed his teeth. Vin took a step backwards, but Chris stayed where he was.

"That is a dangerous animal," the officer said stiffly. "I have to report this."

Buck was immediately in his face. "That animal has been brutally attacked recently. He has the knife slashed to show for it, so yeah, ever since that night he doesn't trust strangers and attacks before being attacked. It will take him some time to get over it, but we have everything under control."

"That's the horse that saved Larabee?" Lassimer asked, sudden interest on his face. "Wow, that's one hell of an animal. Leave it alone, Gascoigne."

"But, Sir!"

"That animal protected its master regardless of being carved up with a knife in the process, so I think it's entitled to some paranoia. Leave it alone."

"I'm sorry about your man," Chris offered, still next to Pony in the stable. "I hadn't expected Pony to attack like that. He never used to. But now I know I have to be careful."

"I... well, I don't know...."

"Think about the press, when all of Denver reads you want to go after a horse that saved its master without regard for its own life," Josiah added. The big man stood leaning in the doorway of the barn, a benign smile on his face.

"See? Just let it go, Gascoigne. I'll talk to Jake, I'm sure he'll understand."

Buck saw Nathan help the hurt police officer away, together with the man's partner. "He doesn't seem too bad," he offered.

"Hurt in the line of duty," Lassimer said. He sighed while watching the cop limp away and suddenly Buck realized how exhausted the man looked.

Then Lassimer turned back to them. "Larabee, Wilmington, unfortunately we couldn't find anything, so we'll leave now."

Soon the barn was empty, except for Chris, Vin, Buck and the horses. Buck turned to the other two. "He's become really vicious, Chris," he said, worried. "He tried to attack me too."

"I know." Chris was affectionately rubbing the long neck. "It's gonna be a lot of work to get him back to normal. Vin, when do you think we should start?"

"Should we?" Vin was softly caressing the velvety nose, but now he gave Chris an impish grin. "Maybe we should leave it at this and you can take up sleeping in his stable. Ain't nobody gettin' to you with him around!"

Chris glared at him, making Vin smirk even more.

"I'm gonna see everyone out," Buck said with resignation. One thing he had given up a long time ago, was getting between these two and horse business.

Nobody of the team left, they all seemed to feel the need to hover over a not very thankful Larabee. Finally Nathan managed to coax him upstairs to look him over, worried that the running Chris had been doing might have damaged something. He came down fuming mad. "That man is just unbelievable," he complained. "His leg wound was bleeding again and he never said! I had to soak his pants and the bandage off. Least it gave him a chance to get a proper shower before I bandaged him up again. Buck, I've also cleaned the bed sheets. What were you thinking, not doing that? You can't expect Chris to do it, he still can't lift his left arm properly! You two like sleeping in a filthy bed?"

Oh, shit! The bed... he had never thought to check it. Why had Chris never asked? He hastily mumbled an apology, promising to keep a better eye on things.

Damn, and why was Vin glaring at him again all of a sudden?

When he saw the others getting ready to leave now that Chris was safely tucked in bed, he stood up as well. "Can one of you spend the rest of the day and the night here, keep an eye out?" he asked. "There's some places I haven't looked around yet for these bastards."

"Buck, I don't think that's wise," Josiah said.

"Yeah." Vin's glare had become lethal by now. "Shouldn't ya go to Chris and stay with him?"

Buck decided that yes, he really was getting tired of Vin's attitude.

"What we all should do, is try and catch those bastards, or this will never be over!"

"Then me and Ez will go lookin'. You stay here, where you're needed. Come, Ez."

Ezra gave a long suffering sigh, shook his head and followed Vin. The rest stood up as well.

"Get some sleep, Buck," Nathan said. "You really need it."

Buck walked them to the porch and stood outside for a long time after they were gone. Then he locked up, making sure even the tiniest window couldn't get open.

Chris didn't come down again. When Buck checked on him to see if he wanted some dinner, he found Chris fast asleep, tangled up in his blankets. It spoke to Buck of tossing and turning and fighting off nightmares.

When would it ever be over for Chris? When?

That night he did what he had been doing all along, settling himself in a recliner close to the stairs, waiting, ready, making sure he had Chris' back.

CHAPTER VI

The next morning Buck woke up completely stiff. When he stretched, he could hear his back pop and he grimaced. Damn, but he was really getting old if he couldn't even sleep in a chair anymore. Rotating his stiff neck he walked yawning to the kitchen, to get the coffee going. Then he stepped outside to try and see if the crisp morning air could wake him up completely.

"Shit!" He backpedaled when he saw a figure on one of the lounge chairs, his sleepy mind taking a minute before registering it was Chris. How the hell had he gotten past him without him waking up?

Some guard he turned out to be! No wonder Chris still didn't feel safe.

"Morning," he said cautiously when Chris didn't acknowledge him, didn't even move. He sat with his bare feet up on the chair, one leg bend so he could rest his chin on it, his arms wrapped around it, the other stretched out in front of him, striking a beautiful figure in the early morning sunlight.

All he wore were black sweatpants, and off course his bandages.

Buck swallowed, suddenly feeling very sad. Before he would have jumped Chris when he saw him like this, all grace and sleek like a giant cat, but now... now all he could do was stare with longing, not knowing what to do.

When Chris kept ignoring him, didn't even look at him, he went back inside to get some coffee and hopefully get his feelings under some semblance of control. Before he could decide to bring Chris some coffee as well, the kitchen door opened and Chris came inside in that careful way of moving he had at the moment. Would have until he was healed, physically.

When it came to the mental healing, Buck couldn't even begin to imagine how that could ever happen, not with those two monsters still running around free somewhere.

He just had to catch them.

Chris stopped and looked at him, showing no emotion whatsoever. Then he turned his head away and walked to the door leading into the hallway.

"Chris...," Buck started.

No use, he was talking to Chris' back and that back never showed any hesitation in moving away.

He stared in his coffee mug while he heard Chris go upstairs. He put it down on the kitchen counter, unable to drink something that tasted like ashes, when he heard the bedroom door close.

Ah well, time to take a shower and get dressed.

When he was ready, Chris was ready too, dressed not in his black jeans and a sweater, but in neat black pants and a charcoal grey shirt.

Office clothes.

By the time he had his stunned mind wrapped around that, Chris was already out of the front door.

"Damn you!" he hissed, running after him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" he yelled when he saw Chris walk purposefully, as purposefully as possible while limping, to the black Ram.

Chris turned and looked at him with eyes he couldn't read anymore. "What the hell does it look like?" he growled.

"You still can't drive with that leg and that arm!"

Chris' face seemed to be carved out of stone and for some reason that scared Buck.

"I can and I will."

"Damn you, Chris, you know you can't go back to work without medical clearance!"

"I'm not staying here."

He turned and purposefully limped on to the Ram.

Buck didn't know what to do. The only way to get Chris back inside would be with violence and he wasn't prepared go that length. It was easy to catch up with Chris, using his long strides.

"I'll drive," he growled.

Chris merely shrugged and changed course for the passenger door.

When Buck opened the driver's door, he looked at Chris one last time, before getting inside. Chris seemed to sense his gaze and looked back before lowering himself in the passenger's seat, again that stony expression on his face.

And suddenly Buck knew why that expression scared him. It was the same expression Chris had worn for months after Sarah and Adam had been killed.

+ + + + + + +

Chris didn't come to the office, he knew the rules better than any of them. Instead he had told Buck to drop him off at the library. Very convenient, Buck thought sourly while he dragged himself through the workday. You can't call someone who's in a library. Phones having to be switched off and all that.

Chris could theoretically call him, but off course he didn't, although he had a suspicion about Vin. There had been a call that had Vin running to JD and jotting down stuff. And when Buck had come back from a brief meeting with Travis over the mental state of the whole team, a meeting that hadn't cheered him up any, he and Ezra had been glued with JD to JD's computer. None of them had even noticed him coming back.

Nope, he sure didn't like the look of things.

He had gone promptly at five and had had to hunt the library to find Chris, who turned out to be in the newspaper archives, of all places. When he saw the many copies strewn before Chris on the table the blond had confiscated, some of which he recognized as articles about the recent male rape attacks in Denver, he felt his blood go cold. So that was what Chris had been up to, he had decided not to wait on anyone else anymore and take matters in his own hands.

Chris looked up with that same stony expression he had had that morning. "Buck."

"You ready to go?"

"I guess." Chris started to collect the many copies, but paused halfway through, holding one in his hand, staring at it.

"Chris?" he finally asked.

"Oh, sorry." The article went in with the rest. "Just was a surprise to find so much about my case in the papers. You sure managed to keep that away from me."

"Damn it! What good would it have done for you to see it? I just figured you could do without that shit!"

Everywhere annoyed people looked up, some hissing for silence. What a stupid place! He never did like libraries anyway. Dusty, gloomy and with way too many books.

"I just tried to look out for you, Chris," he said a lot softer.

It didn't change the stony look on Chris' face and suddenly he was desperate for some of Chris' usual animated expressions. He was angry as well that his attempts to help Chris were brushed away with such... contempt. "I guess you really liked the one where they showed some of the pictures made of you in the hospital, you know, the bite marks and scratches."

That gave a reaction all right. Chris blanched and looked like he was going to throw up.

Nice going, Buck. That will break the ice between you two.

"Look, all I'm saying is, I didn't think you needed that on top of all the rest. Come on, I'm taking you to Inez to get something to eat. It's been ages since you had her hot ribs."

"No. Take me home."

Yep, he sure had gotten some emotion out of Chris. And he knew damn well he only had himself to blame.

Knew it too, when Chris hardly ate and went to bed practically immediately, with his article copies and a bottle of scotch.

+ + + + + + +

The next day, Friday, didn't get any better. Again Chris let Buck drive him to the library and again Buck found himself fidgeting more than working at the office.

"You're going to get that?" Josiah asked, leaning on his desk.

"What?"

"The phone."

He hadn't even noticed it was ringing. When he only stared at it, Josiah reached over and picked it up in his stead.

"That report on Cesare Trovato's relative, the one you're investigating, is in."

He nodded, but didn't make a move. Josiah sighed. "Maybe you should talk about it, let some of your anxiety out."

"Anxiety?" Buck snorted. "Hell, what anxiety? About how I see Chris slip further and further away? Do you know what he's doing right now, Josiah? What he's been doing yesterday the whole day as well? He's chasing every newspaper article he can get his hands on about not only his case, but those other two murders as well! He's just getting worse and worse, and we're sitting here, doing nothing!"

"We tried, Buck," Josiah said softly. "We tried everything we could to find these two men and we're still pursuing every angle we come across. And so does the police. I'm sure we will find them eventually."

"I'm not," Buck confessed, "and that scares me, a lot. I can just see Chris obsessing about this for the rest of his life. He's... he's started drinking again too. He's reminding me more and more of the man he was after Sarah and Adam."

God, he felt so exhausted, so... useless. He just didn't seem to be able to stop Chris from going back to that destructive path. "I just... I just want our former life back", he confessed. "It was good, Josiah, damn good. And then, one night I'm celebrating with you guys and it all disappears. All gone, in one night."

"Maybe you should start doing normal things again. Fill your life with the things you normally do, instead of being cooped up on the ranch with each other."

"Normal? How can you say that, nothing's normal anymore!"

Josiah's big teeth showed when he smiled his wolfish smile. "That is exactly what I am saying, brother." With a slap on Buck's back he left for his own desk.

Buck stared after him, deep in thought. He suddenly saw the point Josiah was making.

+ + + + + + +

"What are you doing?" Chris asked suspiciously the next morning, Saturday. Buck was busy scrubbing and he never ever scrubbed anything unless he was threatened with dire repercussions.

"Barbecue's really filthy. We can't use it like this."

"I know." In exasperation, "So what? It's not like we're gonna use it!"

"Yeah, we are. I've invited all the boys to come over Sunday afternoon to hang out here, watch the game, eat some steaks and ribs."

"You did what?"

"You heard me, Chris. We need some normalcy back in our life. Some fun, like we used to have."

God, Buck actually had the nerve to say that! It made Chris feel like laughing and crying at the same time. Yeah, some normalcy, some fun back in their lives, but not by doing something as simple as sleep in the same bed again together. God forbid it would be accomplished by something as easy as holding each other.

It was too much. "Whatever," he managed to get out, before he fled outside.

Vin was there, wheeling horse manure from the stables to the manure pile. Chris sauntered closer, hands in his pockets, watching his friend do the things Chris normally did. Or the two of them together.

"You okay?" Vin asked when he turned back and saw Chris.

He shrugged. "Guess so. You be long?"

"Nah. Just one stable left, why?"

"I wanted to do something today."

Vin stopped and dropped the wheelbarrow. "Something to do with what we talked about Thursday and yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"I'll hurry."

Buck was still trying to get the barbecue in good shape when he and Vin drove off. "So you wanna visit all the crime scenes and talk with the relatives of the other victims?"

"Yeah. Vin, I... I found out about another victim yesterday. Besides Jamie Sullivan, that little boy Rick Miller and me."

Vin almost swerved off the road. "Jesus, Larabee! You trying to get us killed? You have to drop it like this, like some goddamn bomb?"

It made Chris grin and that instantly lifted his mood considerably. It felt so good to be here with Vin, to have Vin talk to him like he still was Chris Larabee, not some... glass object that could break with the merest of touches.

Touches... Immediately his mood darkened again.

"Spill it!" Vin interrupted the spiral back into depression.

"This victim was 18 and it happened last year, 1^st of August. He was stabbed and strangled in the house where he lived with his parents. Student of the Colorado University."

"Sexually assaulted?"

"Newspapers didn't say, but JD managed to get into the file yesterday, worked overtime to get it for me. He e-mailed me what he found and yeah, he was. Raped brutally, like..." He couldn't say it, but Vin apparently could.

"Like you all were."

"You believe me, don't you, Vin?" He needed to have at least one person who wouldn't dismiss his ideas.

"Yeah, and so does Ezra."

"Ezra? Did you..." Damn, he thought he could trust Vin, he didn't want the whole world to know what he was doing. Bad enough to have Buck giving him those anguished looks when he was working on this, as if he was losing his mind or something.

"Ezra's too smart and JD's poker face ain't worth a damn. I knew he knew when he tried to brush Lassimer and Benton off yesterday, when they came to get a list of yer enemies. The sarcasm, ya know, told me what he was really thinkin' about the case. But Lassimer didn't budge and wanted that list anyway."

"So that's where Lassimer is going with his investigation now? See if it was someone with a grudge?"

"Seems so. Anyway, when JD needed some help I got Ezra in on it. Together they finally got into the police files for you. I just hope Travis or the Chief of police never find out."

"If they do, I'll make sure they know it was done on my authority."

"Yeah, well, let's see how it goes. The Interstate's coming up. Where too?"

"First one first. The college kid, Lewis Scarborough." Chris looked through the assortment of papers he had taken with him and took out the address. "Here, Arapahoe road 56."

"Damn, same neighborhood again."

"I know. Real close to the river, this address."

No one was home, but a neighbor quickly made it clear there was no point in coming back later. Apparently the rest of the family had moved very soon after they buried Lewis, their eldest son. "They were devastated," the woman told them. "The rest of the family was away on a weekend trip, but Lewis didn't want to come, he wanted to go to some student's party with his friends. They argued about it. I think it's one of the things that made it so awful. Parting in anger and then coming back to find your child murdered. At the time I was sure they would never get over it. Don't know if they ever did, we lost contact."

Chris felt sick about it all and in the end it was Vin who did most of the talking, while he stared at the picture the neighbor had produced, a picture of two happy families in one of the backyards, the tall, blond boy she had pointed out as being Lewis towering over his mother.

"I don't know much about how it happened," the neighbor confessed, "just the aftermath, that I did know." She was close to tears now and Chris was glad when Vin ended the conversation.

"From what I saw on the police pictures, this murder was a lot more bloody than Jamie and Rick," Vin said once they were back in the Ram. "Lewis was running from them, seems he was stabbed a lot while running through the house. Finally they caught up with him and strangled him. You know, they almost botched that one, might be 'cause it really was there first."

"Yeah," Chris managed to get out after he had swallowed a number of times. "I saw the pictures and remembered thinking how lucky I was Pony was there. Or that's exactly how I would've ended up too."

"Don't say that!" Vin looked at him with horror filled eyes. He was silent for a minute and then said softly, "I'm gonna pamper Pony for the rest of his life. I can't even think of finding... Damn, what a thing to come home to, your son murdered like that, the house full of blood. No wonder they moved."

Chris knew all about coming home and finding death.

"You wanna track them down?"

"Not now. Stop the car, Vin!"

"What? Oh, Jeez!" Hastily Vin pulled over and Chris bolted to some bushes where he heaved his guts out.

"Better?" Vin was standing behind him, silently protecting his back without hovering.

"Yeah. Just... memories." Old and new, running through his head, making his stomach churn. He closed his eyes.

"Should've known it would trigger what you've gone through yourself, Cowboy. Come on, I know a really great Italian restaurant nearby. You need something to settle that stomach."

Yeah, right, settle his emotions was more like it. "I don't think I can eat," he confessed.

"Nonsense. People can always eat. Get in."

The restaurant was peaceful and not yet busy, since it was still early for lunch. It didn't stop Vin from ordering a giant pizza, while Chris sat nursing a coffee. He looked up in surprise when something was set before him.

"I didn't order anything," he told the heavyset woman who had brought it.

"You eat this," she said scowling and walked away.

"What the hell? Vin, stop laughing! What is this?"

"Seems like a nice tuna salad to me. Lots of olives too. And their bread is the best!"

"Vin!"

"I guess Mama Valutio decided you need something. Ain't no point in arguin' with her, Cowboy. She wants you to have it, there's nothing you can do about it."

"Stop smirking!"

"Start eatin'. I ain't leavin' until you've had at least half of that."

"Who made you my father?"

Vin merely shoved another slice of pizza in his mouth and after a while Chris gave up. He pricked in the salad with his fork for a while, took some of the bread and decided there was no harm in trying. A few minutes later he was glad he had. The salad was excellent and it did settle his stomach. To his surprise he found he had finished it all by the time Vin had worked his pizza away.

"Now what?" Vin asked when they were heading for the Ram again.

"Now I'd like to see what happened to Jamie Sullivan.

"Chris..."

"Don't you start too!" he warned, yanking open the passenger door.

Vin muttered something under his breath, but he did settle behind the wheel and looked at him expectantly. Chris took out the copies from the police file he needed. "Briarwood Drive first."

"Briarwood Drive? Buck and JD's Briarwood Drive?"

"Yeah. That's where they found Jamie Sullivan's bike after he was reported missing."

When they were standing before the alley where the boy's bike had been found, Chris felt eerie. He looked up the street to where the first of the apartment buildings stood, the one with Buck and JD's condo in it.

"Strange to think I saw him that morning," he said softly, more to himself than Vin.

"The murdered boy? Ya saw him?"

"Yeah, and on the morning he was killed too. He was putting papers into the mailboxes in Buck's and JD's apartment building." His let his eyes travel the street until they reached the alley again. "Just a few meters from where he would meet his death."

"You were here?"

"It was the morning JD called in sick and I couldn't let Buck go alone to see their informant. So I picked Buck up here."

"Jesus!" Vin swore. "Chris, they were followin' him that day, you realize that, don't ya? They were followin' Jamie right at the time you saw him, they had to be, 'cause they snatched him not long after, at the first remote spot they came across!"

Chris frowned. "I guess so, yeah."

"Damn it, Chris, don't ya get it? When you were there, at the apartment building, so were they," Vin said with quiet, almost frightening intensity. Chris stared at him, his stomach plummeting.

"They saw me."

"Yeah, that's my guess. Then, that same day, you came back here to get Buck's things for your weekend get away, right?"

"You think they were here then as well?"

"Yeah, staking out the building. Waitin' for you. They didn't know you didn't live there, they assumed you did."

He had to sit down, now! Vin's strong arm kept him from toppling over and helped him in the seat of the Ram, his feet still outside. He held his arms tightly around himself, while he tried to breath. He sure didn't want to throw up again.

"We really were followed that night."

"What?"

"That night, when we went to the ranch after getting Buck's stuff, I was sure we were followed, but nothing came of it, so we let it go. I thought I had been wrong. But we were followed, God, we were, by them. That's how they found out where I lived." He looked up at Vin, feeling sick. "They must've been watching the house ever since. That's how they knew no one was there in the weekend and they broke in, went through my... my stuff."

Through his clothes, the bastards had gone through all his clothes and his photo's, through everything he owned, already planning what they wanted to do to him. He let his head drop on his knees, no longer able to stop the shaking.

"Must've been how things went down," Vin agreed. "I guess that's why they snatched Jamie here, outside, instead of waiting 'til it was night and get him at his home. 'Cause they wanted to stake you out immediately."

Vin's hand landed on his back and started caressing softly. "We found the link 'tween you and this neighborhood, Chris. Police gotta listen now."

When he had himself under control again, they went to the place where Jamie had been found, in the thick bushes alongside the Platte River. Chris didn't want to stay long, there wasn't much to see anyway, just a very remote and obscure spot where two men could easily hide with a young boy. It made him feel sick all over again and he was hard pressed not to throw up again.

"You sure you're up to visiting the Millers?" Vin asked, worried.

"Yeah. Let's finish this."

The Millers couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but he did get to see where the two killers had come into the house. He stood in the garden at the back of the house, between the bushes, looking up at the small window leading into the window of a small boy.It was very much like the window they had used in his study, complete with the bushes surrounding it.

Knowing the hell he had been through with the two men, he couldn't even begin to fathom what it must have been like for a boy of eight to wake up with them in his bedroom.

"We have another son, Alan," Mrs. Miller told them softly while they stood staring. "He... he's scared ever since that night. So are we. He sleeps with us now." She made a small, choking sound. "He's a good kid, never giving us trouble about... about it all. A boy should make more trouble for his parents."

Chris remembered the family pictures in the living room. "He's more like your husband, ain't he? Blond?"

"Yes. Ricky, he was like me. But Alan is his father through and through. Blond, tall for his age. He's gonna be b... beautiful." She hastily looked away. "Sorry, Mister Larabee. I know it can't be easy for you either."

When they left Vin walked close beside him, so close they were brushing shoulders, at hand for when he would lose it again. Chris knew he was being scrutinized and studiously refused to look at his friend.

The drive back to the ranch was done in silence. Chris could only stare outside, everything whirling through his head. Finally, when they turned from the small mountain road onto the gravel driveway to his house, he said, "I want to go over it with the whole team."

"Yeah, we should. Ya know," Vin grinned at him, "maybe that barbecue is good for something after all."

"Yeah, maybe."

CONTINUE

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