WARNINGS/Comments: The gen version of this story, "Target of Opportunity," was written by Erica Michaels and appeared in the multi-media zine Ouch! #16. My thanks to Erica for letting me slash her story! Warning: Graphic description of male-male sex.

Maybe there really is something to the whole Friday the 13^th thing, Chris thought, watching as William Hector Trent reviewed the list of weapons they were hoping the man would sell them. And, when he did, they would bust Trent's sorry ass, do the necessary reams of paperwork, and then go home for a long, well-deserved weekend; he'd give his team Monday off, too and to hell with the brass. They had earned a little down time, and he wanted some extended quality time alone with Vin. It had been days since they'd been able to do anything more than go home and fall into bed and sleep.

Unfortunately, his little voice kept whispering that it wasn't going to be that easy. Not if the start of the day had been any example of what was to come.

So, for the first time in a very long time, Larabee could appreciate why people chose to stay home on those Fridays that fell on a 13^th of the month. To put it simply: thus far today, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong - with a vengeance.

If he'd been smart, he would have had Ezra reschedule this meet for sometime next week, but he didn't want to spook Trent. He wanted the man busted and behind bars, awaiting a trial where he'd be convicted and sent off to prison for twenty or more years.

Larabee's gaze flickered to his left where Standish stood, looking cool and detached, nothing more than the well-paid middle-man bringing together two parties who each had something the other wanted; in this case, guns and money.

Once again the ATF team leader had to admire his undercover man's consummate skills. Ezra was as smooth an operator as anyone would ever find, and Chris watched as Standish edged up next to Trent, speaking casually, trying to nudge the deal along to completion.

What the hell's taking so long? Larabee wondered, gaze sweeping over the open landscape where he and Standish stood with Trent and two of his enforcers. He didn't like feeling so damn exposed, but Trent had insisted. The unfinished business plaza was framed along all four sides by the skeletons of buildings still under construction - yet another medical or technology park going up along the I-25 corridor. City officials called it growth, progress, but to him it just looked like more sprawl.

He knew more of Trent's men were waiting just beyond those half-finished buildings, as were members of his own team, along with several plainclothes Denver PD officers. Hell, given the way the day was going, they'd be lucky if they didn't all stumble over one another before this was over.

"This is a lot of merchandise, Lawson," Trent said, handing the sheet of paper back to Larabee after he had scanned it using a hand-held device that would transfer it to his waiting men - men who would, Larabee hoped, put the order together for a quick delivery.

"Styles here told me you could handle something that big on short notice," Chris replied, sounding just a little hot over all the posturing. "Guess maybe he was wrong. C'mon, Vic, let's go find a man who's willing to deal. We're wasting our time here." Larabee turned and took three steps back toward his truck before Trent's voice stopped him.

"Carl," Standish called.

"Hold on, Lawson, hold on. I haven't said I didn't want to do business. I just said it was a lot of merchandise on short notice. I can cover it, but it's gonna cost you extra. I'd just like to see your cash before I have the boys load all this stuff."

Chris had turned back to face the arms dealer, green eyes studying the man carefully. Hector Trent was in his mid-forties, but he looked younger, having kept himself in good shape. His reddish-blond hair was cut short and was free of any silver, giving him a decidedly military appearance that was only enhanced by the gold-frame aviator sunglasses he wore, the dark lenses hiding intense blue eyes. He was cold and greedy, and one of the biggest arms dealers they'd gone after.

"You want to see my money," Chris repeated, glancing at Ezra, who gave him a small but obvious nod. "Yeah, all right, I guess that'd be fine."

"Hector, I can assure you, Mr. Lawson is ready to pay generously for the requested merchandise," Standish added in his smooth southern drawl. He pulled a small card from inside his suit pocket and handed it to the man.

Trent read the figure on the card and nodded, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. "This is generous, Carl, really. But I'd still feel better if I could see the cash."

"Gonna have to call in one of my men," Larabee said.

"Just one," Trent warned him, jerking his chin in the direction of his two enforcers.

Larabee nodded his understanding, then pulled out his cell phone, which was also recording the entire conversation, and pressed the number that would speed dial Buck's phone.

Wilmington answered a moment later, asking, "Yeah?"

"Bring the money. Just you," Chris said and terminated the call. He slipped the phone back into his pocket to continue recording.

Silence fell as they waited, Buck appearing a few minutes later in the black Jimmy he had borrowed for the meeting. He entered the plaza, hurrying along the winding drive before pulling up and parking alongside Larabee's Ram. The driver's window came down and Wilmington handed out a silver briefcase to Chris, who passed it on to Ezra.

Standish opened the clasps and flipped up the lid while balancing the case on one forearm. Trent grunted appreciatively when he saw the stacks of one-hundred dollar bills waiting inside. "So, can we do business, Hector?" Standish asked the arms dealer.

Trent nodded, smiling, then gestured to his two enforcers, one of whom unclipped his cell phone from his belt and called someone, telling them to, "Send the truck as soon as it's ready."

Silence fell again as they all waited. After several minutes had passed, Trent asked, "So, Carl, what do you plan to do with this little arsenal you're purchasing?"

"That's my business," Chris replied coolly.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Trent replied with a shrug.

A large SUV appeared at the entrance of the plaza, moving slowly. It was clearly weighed down by the arms it carried and Chris felt his heart begin to race. Their luck was turning. This was going to work after all.

The midnight blue Expedition pulled to a stop behind Trent and his two men. No one got out of the SUV, the two enforcers stepping back to open the rear of the vehicle themselves. Inside were several crates that held the assault weapons, illegal ammunition and plastic explosives Larabee's list had requested. One of the two men opened a crate, pulling out an HK and a P9, tossing one of them to his partner.

"Ah yes," Ezra said, "I'm sure Mr. Lawson would like to examine the-"

Then, before Larabee or Standish had a chance to react, the enforcers brought the weapons up to bear on the two ATF agents, and several things happened in almost the same moment.

Wilmington threw the Jimmy into gear and stomped on the gas. The vehicle lurched forward, tires squealing, as he attempted to give Larabee and Standish some much-needed cover. Chris and Ezra each bolted in opposite directions. And, up on one of the unfinished buildings, Team Seven's sniper saw the enforcers' intent and pulled the trigger on his rifle, dropping one of the two men before he could open fire. The second man got off a single burst that went wild, missing both Larabee and Standish, and then he was struck down by Tanner's second bullet.

Lastly, up on another one of the buildings, a second sniper opened fire as two more of Trent's men lurched out of the front of the SUV, both armed and firing.

Ezra went down, victim of the sniper's shot, before he could reach the cover of the Jimmy. Both of his hands were wrapped tightly around his upper thigh as he cried out, "I'm hit!"

Chris heard Standish's howl and stopped at the front bumper of the Jimmy, dropping and firing his own weapon to keep the two men from the front of the delivery truck from killing Ezra, who was down out in the open. He had no idea the undercover man had been hit by a sniper's bullet.

"Chris! Be careful!" Buck yelled, inching the Jimmy closer to Standish.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Where are ya. . .? Where the hell are ya?" Vin muttered, ignoring the comments crossing his comm unit. His eye pressed tightly to the ring of his rifle's scope, he searched for Trent's sniper before he could kill either Ezra or Chris.

Three buildings; take 'em one at a time, he told himself, all of his considerable focus coming to bear on the structure directly across from him. He checked each floor, looking for movement, a telltale flash from scope or rifle barrel, a disrupted or out of place shadow. . . and found nothing as precious seconds ticked by.

He shifted to the building on his right, finding nothing there as well, more valuable seconds passing by.

Vin could "see" what was happening on the ground thanks to the voices in his ear, and he knew he had to hurry. Ezra was still down in the open and Chris was using the Jimmy to creep closer to the man so he could grab Standish and drag him to safety. But in order to do that, Larabee would have to make himself a target as well.

Why're y' waitin'? Tanner asked the invisible sniper. Hell, Ezra might as well have a neon target painted on him. But then Vin knew. The second sniper was doing exactly what Tanner had done himself while in the Army. He was waiting for Chris to make his move. He was waiting for Larabee to line up with Ezra, and when he did, the sniper could take out both men with a single shot. Cocky sonuvabitch. But it meant he had to be in the four-story building at Tanner's left.

Vin started his hunt at the top, his piercing gaze sweeping left to right and top to bottom. There!

And the sniper was getting ready to drop Tanner's best friend and lover as soon as Larabee stepped a little farther away from the Jimmy. No fuckin' way 'm lettin' that happen, asshole. . .

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Chris's gaze flicked from Buck to Ezra and back again. He had no choice. There was no way he could leave Standish out there to die. Hell, he was surprised Standish wasn't already dead. The sniper could have finished him off at any time. So why hasn't he? Larabee wondered as he started out for the fallen man, but even as he did he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Shit! He was in someone's crosshairs and he was dead certain it wasn't Vin's.

"Damn it," he hissed, realizing why the sniper had waited: to draw him out into the open - two birds, one stone. But he just didn't have a choice.

"Chris!" Buck yelled into his lip mike. "Move! Move! Trent's men are comin'!"

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

With Wilmington's cry echoing in his ears, Vin's focus collapsed to a single reality: the sniper who was going to kill two of his friends, kill the man he loved more than anything. . . more than life.

His heartbeat slowed and his breathing stopped as he lined up the shot and gently squeezed the trigger on his rifle.

Through his scope he watched the sniper jump when the bullet passed between a narrow gap between the two thick boards that almost completely concealed the man, burning a path along the back of his neck. Not a kill, but it had spoiled the man's shot and that was exactly what Tanner had intended it to do. If he'd killed the sniper, he might have gotten off the shot even as he'd died.

Tanner watched the sniper shift his attention from the agents on the ground to the building where he lie hidden, searching for Tanner, just like Vin had searched for him a few moments before. But the ATF agent knew he wouldn't be spotted if he didn't move from his hide. Lying concealed at the corner of the unfinished first floor, Tanner cast no telling shadows, and the mix of light and dark made the area appear flat, even when he was lying there.

When Tanner saw the sniper's attention shift back to what was happening on the ground, Vin fired again, but this time the sniper was able to get off another shot as well.

Damn it! Vin knew he had to keep the other sniper occupied long enough for Chris to grab Ezra and drag him to cover behind the Jimmy, but it looked like there was only one way he was going to be able to do that.

His focus still on the sniper, Tanner purposefully shifted position and watched a deadly smile curl the other man's lips as he swung his weapon in Tanner's direction.

Heart racing, Vin allowed himself to become more of a target, which completely apprehended the other sniper's attention. Then Tanner brought his own rifle up, knowing it was going to come down to speed and accuracy, just like an old fashioned shootout in the Old West.

Both rifles came up; both men fired. And both bullets found their targets.

The head of Trent's sniper snapped back from the impact of a bullet entering his skull and he dropped heavily to the floor, already dead before he hit.

Tanner was hit center mass, the force knocking him off the unfinished floor of the building, his arms frantically circling like windmills as he fell to the ground.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Chris reached Ezra just as the rest of Team Seven and the police arrived, right on the heels of Trent's people. The result was to be expected - men scattered in all directions, gunfire barked, and here and there a cry echoed across the plaza as someone went down.

Larabee grabbed Standish under the arms, lifting him off the ground just as a bullet dug into the dirt near both of them. Chris jerked, hunching over the injured man, expecting the next shot to kill them both. But the next shot never came.

Chris hauled Ezra over to the Jimmy, both of them crouching behind the vehicle, Larabee doing his best to stem the flow of blood Standish was losing. Wilmington slipped out of the Jimmy to help, his big hands wrapping around Ezra's leg and pressing directly on the bleeding wounds while Chris jerked off his light jacket so they could use the cloth to pack against the entry and exit wounds. Buck pulled off his belt, using that to secure the jacket tightly in place.

And then Larabee's little voice whispered in his ear, telling him to look over his shoulder.

He jerked his head around, eyes widening with horror as he saw Tanner stand, his rifle coming up in his hands faster than Chris ever imagined it could. A moment later, and before Larabee could even glance in the direction Tanner was focused so intently on, two shots rang out almost simultaneously and the sharpshooter was tumbling off the edge of the unfinished building, his arms gyrating wildly.

"Vin!" he cried, his heart cramping in his chest.

"Shit!" Wilmington howled, slamming his fist against the door panel of the Jimmy.

Moments later, silence fell across the plaza.

"Chris, you hit?"

Larabee jerked as Nathan's voice reached him moments before the medic arrived, taking over from Wilmington. Buck was immediately on his feet and running to where they had seen Tanner fall.

"I'm fine," Larabee managed as he scrambled out of Jackson's way, but he couldn't force himself to follow his oldest friend at first, too afraid of what he might find at the building. But he knew he had no choice. He couldn't escape the truth, even if he wanted to. Still, getting his rubbery legs to cooperate was much harder than he expected.

I've lost Vin. . . The thought repeated in his mind with every step he took. God. A profound numbness settled over his body, his heart.

He'd lost the man he'd come to love just like he'd lost Sarah and Adam. He was alone again.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Josiah had heard the frantic cries from Chris and Buck, and when he saw Wilmington charging toward the building where Vin had been hiding he felt his heart seize inside his chest. He hurried after the man, silently praying that Vin was all right, for his sake, and for Larabee's.

But, thankfully, when Sanchez caught up to Wilmington, the big man was slowly helping Vin to his feet. The sniper was clearly unsteady, as well as being pale and gasping for breath, but he was alive, and it didn't look like he was bleeding. Josiah glanced heavenward and breathed, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you."

"Junior, ya all right?" Buck asked, grabbing the younger man's arms to steady him and peering into the sharpshooter's face. "Answer me, Vin. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. . . 'm fine," Tanner said, trying to fill his lungs, but he was unable to do so, each breath getting harder and harder to draw. But he still flashed Wilmington a cocky grin. "Don't think. . . Trent's sniper. . . c'n say. . . th' same."

"Hell, son, what were you two doin' up there, playin' chicken?" Buck asked, starting to smile himself as he released Tanner and took a step back.

"He was. . . waitin'. . . fer Chris 'n' Ezra. . . t' line up," Vin explained, slowly unzipping his black jumpsuit, his hands shaking with reaction. Maybe that would help him catch his breath.

"And you decided to give him another target," Josiah guessed, shaking his head. Sometimes he had to worry about the younger man.

Tanner nodded. "Y' should see. . . th' beatin'. . . m' vest took," he panted, pulling his suit open so they could see the damage in the center of his kevlar, but just as he did, Larabee arrived upon the scene.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Chris bellowed, his face red with anger. He reached out and grabbed Tanner's upper arms, not sure if he should shake the man within an inch of his life or give him a hug and a kiss right there in front of God and everyone. "Damn it, Vin, you could've gotten yourself killed! Of all the stupid-!"

"Chris," Buck interrupted, reaching out to grab Larabee's shoulder as Tanner grew even paler and his knees buckled.

"Vin?" Larabee yelped. "Vin, what's wrong?"

Tanner dropped to his knees on the ground, his eyes widening with fear.

"Vin, what is it, son?" Josiah asked, stepping up next to the sharpshooter as well.

"Vin!" Larabee barked, fear surging through him. No. No, he couldn't lose him. Not now. Not after what he just lived through!

"Feels like. . . 'm breathin'. . . through. . . a straw," Tanner managed in short, wheezing gasps. Then, as the other three men watched, he fell over, still fighting to draw a breath, his fingers clawing at the top of his vest. Chris and Josiah immediately began to strip off the gasping man's jumpsuit and vest to make sure he hadn't somehow gotten shot.

"Nathan!" Buck cried, but his voice was drowned out as a pair of ambulances pulled into the office park, their sirens wailing. He sprinted to the vehicles, which pulled up next to the Jimmy where Jackson was still working on Standish. "We need some help!" he yelled at the medics as they were climbing out. "Now! Hurry!"

The man closest to Wilmington nodded, going around to the back of the ambulance with his partner and grabbing their jump kit and other equipment before following Buck back to where Chris and Josiah waited with Vin.

"Do something! He can't breathe," Larabee snapped. He was holding Tanner in a seated position, one hand rubbing the sharpshooter's bare back, the other caught in Tanner's panicked grip. Vin's eyes were wide and glazed with fear, his lips beginning to turn blue.

The medics dropped down on either side of the sharpshooter and went to work. "What happened?" one of the two men asked as he checked the bruise already forming on Tanner's chest.

"He was on the first floor of this building," Josiah said. "He took a bullet hit to the chest and fell about ten feet. He looked a little stunned and he was pale, but otherwise he was all right. He started having trouble breathing as soon as we found him."

Chris watched as one of the medics dosed Tanner with Abuterol and then slapped on a high-flow oxygen mask with while the other injected the sniper with something. "What's that?" he asked the medic.

"Aminophylline," the medic replied, which told Larabee nothing, but he nodded, hoping it worked, because Vin was turning bluer around his mouth.

"Easy, pard, easy," Chris whispered into Vin's ear when the man's grip tightened on his hand.

The medics waited a few moments, then the older of the men shook his head. "It failed," he said.

Vin made a small noise, half-squeal, half-whimper, his mouth open under the mask, trying hard to suck in some air.

"Hang on, Vin," Chris told him. "Damn it, you just hang on. We'll get you through this." Tanner's fear-filled blue eyes met Larabee's, begging the older man to help him, but Chris had no idea what to do. "Easy, easy," he managed, watching as Vin's eyes began to glaze more, then finally closed as the sharpshooter passed out from the lack of oxygen.

The older of the two men was on a phone to the hospital, telling them what was happening. "We need to get a breathing tube into him," he said and his partner nodded, moving Tanner away from Larabee.

The paramedics worked in practiced unison, but Larabee could see that Vin's jaw muscles were clenched tightly shut.

"Damn it," the older medic hissed softly after he managed to pry Tanner's mouth open. "His tongue's writhing and his vocal chords are spasming. We're not going to get an airway past this."

"What're you doing?" Chris asked as the medics established an intravenous line and then administered multiple drugs in rapid sequence, but the two men didn't reply, too busy to bother.

"What's happening?" Buck asked the medics, but they ignored him as well.

Nathan, who had come up to watch, pulled the three men back and said softly, "They're giving him a sedative and a drug to induce paralysis."

"What?" Wilmington yelped, looking from the medic to Tanner and back again.

"It's to combat the resistance from his muscles, tongue and vocal chords," Jackson assured the ladies' man as they all watched the paramedics trying and failing to thread a breathing tube down Tanner's throat.

"Let's go," the older man said, issuing a sharp whistle to get the attention of one of the other medics who had been working on Ezra. But Standish had just been loaded into the back of one ambulance. One of the paramedics who had been working on him grabbed a gurney and brought it over.

"We're losing him," the older man growled as they rushed Tanner to the second ambulance. The rest of the team gathered at the back of the vehicle, waiting anxiously as, desperate now, the medics tried to punch a hole in Vin's windpipe.

"Damn it! Missed," the older man growled.

"We're close to losing him," the younger man repeated, grabbing an ambu-bag to pump oxygen through the mask held over Tanner's nose and mouth. But he knew Vin's airways were so narrowed that only wisps of the lifesaving gas were getting through.

"I'm an EMT," Nathan barked. "Let's go!"

The older medic looked up, then nodded and lurched out of the back. "Get in!" he snapped, already on his way to the driver's side door.

The younger man kept up his work on the ambu-bag as Nathan joined him. Buck closed the door, slipping an arm around Larabee's shoulders and guiding him to the Jimmy. The fact that Chris was allowing himself to be guided away told Buck more than he wanted to know about the man's mental state. Chris was in shock. "We'll meet them there," he told the blond. "He'll make it, Chris. Junior's tough, you know that."

Chris's head came up, green eyes flashing. "He wasn't breathing, Buck!"

"He'll make it," Wilmington snapped with all the conviction he could muster. Vin had to make it. If he didn't, they'd lose Chris as well, he was sure of that. There was no way the man could live through losing someone else he loved like he loved Sarah and Vin.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Nathan listened as the older paramedic called the hospital even as he pulled out of the plaza, siren beginning to wail. The ATF medic caught the words "cyanotic" and "failed intubation" and then, "Request oxygen tank at ambulance bay." He watched as the man listened to a short reply and then ended the call with "Gotcha, we'll be there in less than seven."

Looking back at Tanner, Nathan willed the younger man to hang on. He reached out, taking Vin's hand in his own and squeezed the unmoving fingers. "Fight," he said into Tanner's ear. "Don't you give up, Vin. We need you. Chris needs you. Concentrate on that. Chris needs you. You have to hang on."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

They pulled up at the hospital five minutes later, two orderlies running up to help pull Vin out of the back of the ambulance before the driver could put it in park, one medic still forcing in what oxygen he could through the ambu-bag. Nathan scrambled out behind them, hurrying to keep up. Vin was dying, and he knew it.

"Don't stop at the entrance!" a nurse snapped, pointing to where another nurse straddled the entry doors to the resuscitation room, waving them straight in.

The gurney was rolled into the room where a young, dark-skinned woman grabbed a laryngoscope and a breathing tube. "Over here," she called.

Jackson stepped back out of the way and watched as the paramedics and orderlies transferred Vin onto a stretcher. The doctor pushed Vin's teeth apart and slid in the curved laryngoscope blade.

The doctor watched the breathing tube slide in beneath the droopy epiglottis. "Home free," she muttered, pushing. But then she heard a click as if the tube had hit laryngeal cartilage and bounced away from the windpipe and into the esophagus. Was it in or not? No time to check. "Call Tom!" she shouted. "Get a cric set!"

Nathan watched one of the nurses dashing off to get the instruments for cutting a hole in Tanner's trachea. He was shaking, but couldn't bring himself to leave. Not yet. Not until he knew - one way or another.

"Wait. Look," the respiratory tech said. Jackson's gaze shifted and he watched as the tech released the ambu-bag for exhalation and the transparent tube misted up.

The doctor listened to Vin's stomach as the tech squeezed the bag again. "There is no gurgling that would signal entry into the esophagus," she said, moving her stethoscope to his chest and listened again. "Breath sounds are faint and choked by wheezing, but they are there, thank God."

The respiratory tech checked the pulse-oximeter someone had slipped on Tanner's finger. "O2 is climbing slowly," he said. "He's getting oxygen."

Another man Nathan guessed must be "Tom" burst into the room, loaded for bear.

"We're okay," the doctor said in a relieved sigh. "Tube's in. Thanks."

"Okay, Vivi, but give me a call if you need me," the man said with a smile and left.

Nathan swallowed, feeling his palms beginning to sweat. He knew the real problem now was getting the air out of Vin's lungs. They were pushing air in mechanically through the intubation, but they couldn't mechanically help Vin exhale. And if they forced in more air than could seep out, pressure would build up until blood return to the heart was blocked. The cure, he knew, was pharmacological.

"Lana, epi zero-point-five IM, magnesium two grams IV, and Solumedrol 125 IV," the doctor called across the room.

"Two of Mag?" the nurse asked her, a frown on her face.

"Yes," the physician affirmed.

Nathan nodded, his brain automatically translating the medical shorthand. Epinephrine was a potent bronchial muscle relaxant. Solumedrol was a steroid that would suppress any inflammation, but it wouldn't really kick in for hours. The magnesium was the secret weapon. It had been used for decades to suppress uterine contractions in women who had gone into premature labor, but he'd read that it had also shown promise for relieving severe airway constriction.

He watched as the doctor checked the hole in Vin's neck. Luckily it was small and off to the side. Then she shone a penlight into Tanner's pupils, hoping that they shrank to pinpoints. If so, then, at the very least, some part of Vin's brain still lived. When he saw her nod at the reaction he knew Tanner's pupils had constricted. He let out the breath he'd been holding.

There was nothing more he could do here. It was time to go find the others and tell them what was happening before they stormed in to find out for themselves.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Nathan found the others in the ER waiting room. Larabee was pacing, Josiah and JD both sat on the couch, each man lost in his own thoughts, and Buck stood at the windows, staring out at the parking lot.

Chris stopped, green eyes locking on Jackson's brown. "Nathan?" he asked, his tone as frightened as the man had ever heard it.

The medic nodded. "He's breathing again. They're doing all they can for him. We're just gonna have to wait now."

That wasn't what Larabee wanted to hear, but it was the best he was going to get for the time being, and he knew it. He nodded and started pacing again.

With nothing else to do, Nathan said, "I'm gonna go ask about Ezra."

"Good," Buck replied grumpily. "Maybe you can find out more than we could."

"I'll try," Jackson said with a small grin, then headed off.

What the hell was Tanner thinking? Chris fumed silently. But he already knew the answer to that. Vin had been protecting Ezra, and him. Vin had made himself a freaking target in order to save their sorry hides. But what if Trent's sniper had gone for a head shot? Christ.

Stupid, Larabee concluded. It was a goddamn stupid move! But he knew he could expect nothing less from the sharpshooter. It was Vin's job to cover them, to protect them, and he took that responsibility seriously - too seriously sometimes, it appeared.

Just hang in there. Please, Chris said to his absent lover. Don't you give up, Vin, not now. Not before I can kick your ass for thinking you made a better target than us. . . Jesus. I can't lose him. I can't. . .

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The doctor stepped out into the hallway, composed herself, and then walked down to the waiting room. There were five men there, all of them waiting as patiently as they could for her to speak to them.

"Are all of you here for Mr. Tanner?" she asked them.

"Yes," Larabee said, stepping up to her. "Vin's an ATF agent, part of my team. And, before you ask, we're the only family he has, so whatever you have to say, you can say to us. All of us."

"I see. Well, I'm Doctor Vivika Sahir." She proffered her hand and Larabee took it. Then, with what she hoped was an optimistic smile, she said tentatively, "Agent Tanner is stable, for the time being. He's sedated, so it's impossible to tell how his brain is doing right now, but his oxygen level is holding. I really wish I could tell you more, but we simply cannot be sure of his outcome at this time. . . However, I think he has a good chance for a full recovery."

"Chance?" Chris snapped at her.

"A good chance," she corrected him.

"What happened to him?" Buck asked her. If it had been any other circumstance he would have been flirting with the attractive young woman, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

"Is he an asthmatic?" she asked them.

"No," Chris replied immediately.

"But he is just getting over a rather bad case of bronchitis," Nathan told her.

"Ah," she responded, nodding slowly. "Well, it appears that the trauma of the gunshot and the fall triggered what we would call a sudden asphyxic asthma attack, if he were an asthmatic. But, in any event, the results were the same."

"Can we see him?" Chris asked her.

"Not yet. I'll come back when I know more. It shouldn't be too long."

"Thank you, Doctor," Josiah told her.

She nodded and smiled thinly at Sanchez before turning and heading back to the ER.

"Vivika Sahir?" JD asked softly, watching her go. "What kind of name is that?"

"Indian," Josiah replied. "But no accent, so she's as American as the rest of us. Not that it matters."

"Yeah, I know," JD said, embarrassed that his comment had sounded as bad as it had.

"I don't care if she's from Mars," Chris growled, "as long as she can get Vin through this."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Dr. Sahir returned to her patient and checked his chart. Arterial blood gas analysis showed that his oxygen levels were good, but the carbon dioxide level was still sky-high, indicating that he was failing to exhale fully. She listened to his chest again, his breaths sounding louder - hisses now, rather than tight squeaks.

"Lana, let's give him another gram of mag and another epi," she told the nurse.

"More mag?" Lana asked skeptically.

"Yes. I think it's working."

The nurse drew up the magnesium while the respiratory tech rechecked the ventilator. "Ten breaths per minute, low volume per breath," he reported.

Dr. Sahir stepped over. The lung pressures, to her relief, were not climbing. She checked the bronchodilator mists that were running down the breathing tube. The paralytics should be wearing off soon, she knew, but for now Agent Tanner was still inert. There really wasn't any reason she couldn't allow the others in to see their friend, so she turned and went back to the waiting room, the five men crowding around her as soon as she had crossed the threshold.

"Something wrong?" Nathan asked her, worried that she had returned so quickly.

"No, I was just thinking, there really isn't any reason why you shouldn't visit Agent Tanner, but just for a few minutes, all right? We'll be moving him into a room soon."

"We appreciate that, Doctor," Buck told her, flashing her one of his most charming smiles.

She nodded and led them back to the resuscitation room where they immediately gathered around Vin's bedside. She could tell that they were worried about the plastic tube that looped out of Tanner's mouth, but there was nothing she could do about that.

"Hey, Vin," JD said, reaching out to rest his hand tentatively on the sharpshooter's arm.

Buck leaned over JD's shoulder and added, "You hang in there, Junior. Everything's going to be just fine. You've got a real pretty doc takin' care of you. She's gonna make sure you're just fine."

"That's right," Nathan said, reaching out to give the unconscious man's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're gonna be just fine in no time - you'll see."

"We're all here for you, son," Josiah added said over Jackson's shoulder. "And Ezra's doing fine, too. I know you'd want to hear that."

"I think that's enough for now," Dr. Sahir told them, touched by the affection they obviously had for her patient.

Four of the men filed out, leaving Chris alone at Vin's bedside. She was about to ask him to leave as well, but then Larabee reached out, his hand closing around Vin's upper arm. "You listen to me, Tanner," she heard him say softly. "You don't give up, you hear me? You don't give up. I need you too much for that."

"He doesn't strike me as a quitter," Dr. Sahir said softly as she stepped up to the opposite side of the bed and started to check Vin's lung sounds again.

"No, he's not," Chris said, his gaze fixed on his lover's face. "You know how he got himself shot?"

She glanced up and shook her head. "I'm assuming it was in the line of duty?"

Larabee nodded. "Yeah, you could say that. Another one of my men got shot. I was trying to reach him before he got himself killed. Vin made himself a target so the sniper who shot Ezra didn't kill him, or me, when I went for him."

"That was very brave," she said sincerely.

"Yeah, it was. Stupid, too, but, yeah, it was brave. But he won't see it that way. As far as Vin's concerned, he was just doing his job." Larabee snorted softly and shook his head. Then he looked up, meeting the doctor's dark eyes. "He has to make it," he told her softly, his voice hushed by the emotion that was tightening his throat. "We can't afford to lose him. . . I can't lose him."

"We'll do our best, Agent. . .?"

"Larabee. Chris Larabee," he told her.

"We'll do everything we can, Chris. I promise you. And he is doing well."

He nodded, looking away from her sympathetic eyes. "Thank you, Doctor."

She hesitated a moment, then asked, "Are you his. . . partner?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes. "Yes," he said, adding, "at work, and at home."

She nodded. "Why don't you go get some coffee? We'll know more in an hour or so. But if you'd like to stay, we acknowledge same-sex relationships just like we would any other couple. No one will challenge you."

Chris looked back down at Vin, wanting to stay, but knowing he wasn't doing the man any good being there. And he needed to find out if Ezra was out of surgery. He nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it, but I have to see if my other man is doing all right. Let us know if anything changes."

"I will," she assured him.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Forty-five minutes later Vin was semi-conscious and trying to pull the breathing tube out. The nurse who was fending off his sluggish hands asked hopefully, "Dr. Sahir, can I sedate him?"

"You bet," she told Lana and headed for the waiting room. This time only Larabee remained. "Are your friends eating?"

He shook his head. "Josiah and Nathan are with Ezra - the man who was shot. Buck and JD headed back to the federal building," he told her and then wondered why he had. He was babbling. Not a good sign. "Is Vin all right?" he forced himself to ask.

"Yes, he is doing wonderfully. He woke up and tried to remove his breathing tube so we had to sedate him, but that's a good sign. We'll be moving him to a room now. I'll have the nurse let you know where."

"Thank you, Doctor," he said sincerely.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You're very welcome."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"You plannin' on spendin' the night?" Buck asked after he entered Vin's room and found Chris sitting next to the sharpshooter's bed, his head in his hands as Larabee rubbed at his temples.

Chris looked up. "How's Ezra?"

"Still sleepin', just like when you saw him, but the nurse says he's doing fine. His vitals are strong, and no fever. . . you know the drill."

Chris nodded. "Good. . . good."

"How are you?" Wilmington asked his long-time friend. He didn't like what he saw, but he knew better than to press Chris on it too hard right now.

"I'm fine. And yeah, I'm plannin' to stay the night. You?"

"I'm gonna take JD home, see if he can't get some sleep. Nathan's with Ezra, in case he wakes up. Josiah said he'll spell Nate in a few hours. I'll come back to spell you, if you want me to," he said hopefully

Chris gave his friend a tired smile and shook his head. "No need. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Buck sighed. "Yeah, I figured you might say that, but I wanted to make the offer - just in case you'd decided to be reasonable this time."

"You ever know me to be reasonable?" Larabee demanded, but a slight twinkle flashed through his eyes.

"Nope," Buck replied, dark blue eyes full of amusement. "But I also figure there's a first time for everything."

"Yeah, well, maybe next time. . . Now, go on and get out of here. Oh, and call Josiah, will ya? Tell him to stop by here first so I can go see how Ezra's doing later."

Buck nodded. "Will do. We'll see you in the morning."

Chris nodded, his gaze returning to Vin's face. Thank God the sharpshooter wasn't still blue around his mouth. He didn't think he'd ever forget that hideous color on Tanner's lips. When Buck was gone, Larabee reached out and rested his hand on Tanner's arm, gently rubbing his thumb over Vin's skin. "You're doing good, Cowboy, real good. So you just keep it up, okay? I need you to get better and come home with me. . . Need to hold you, make sure you're really going to be okay. . ."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"And Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked, his usually smooth Southern drawl more than a little slurred by the pain medication he was on.

"He's doing fine," Chris told the man. "No need to worry."

"Hector Trent?"

"In jail," Chris replied from where he stood next to the injured man's bedside.

"Good, then this wasn't a complete. . . waste of our time and effort," Standish sighed.

"No, it wasn't."

Ezra's eyes closed, but he asked, "How is it that I. . . find myself here - in considerable discomfort, I might add - when, by all rights, I could have been reaping my just rewards in the next life?"

Larabee allowed himself a small grin. Standish never said something in five words if he could come up with ten, or better yet, twenty-five. And even drugged he wasn't deterred. "Trent brought a sniper to the meet, just like we did. Ours was better."

Ezra chuckled softly. "I never harbored a doubt on that front, Mr. Larabee, I can assure you of that. But how was it that. . . Mr. Tanner. . . came to be wounded?"

Chris drew in a deep breath and said softly, "Haven't got it from Vin yet, but I'm guessing that Trent's sniper was waitin' for me to come out there to get you so he could get the two of us with a single shot. Vin managed to. . . get his attention. They fired on each other. Trent's man is dead. Vin fell and had some kind of asthma-like breathing attack the doctor said."

"Sounds perfectly dreadful," Standish slurred sleepily.

"It was. But they say he's doing fine now," Larabee repeated. "And so are you. You just need to get some more rest."

"Yes, I believe I shall do. . . this that," Standish said, slipping away with a soft sigh.

Chris waited for a few more minutes before Josiah arrived.

"How is he?" the profiler asked as he came over to the bedside.

Chris gave Sanchez a quick update on Ezra - all of it good news - and then headed back to Vin's room. Tanner was still unconscious, but apparently resting peacefully. When the nurse came in to check on him an hour later, she found Chris sound asleep in the chair next to Vin's bed.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Chris awoke the next morning to a riot of noise - alarm bell, multiple voices, and the unmistakable sound of somebody retching, violently. He jerked, coming to his feet only to find a nurse holding an emesis basin for Vin, who was hunched over the edge of his bed, spitting into the basin. Dr. Sahir was there as well.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

The physician looked up. "Mr. Tanner pulled out his breathing tube," she explained, looking almost pleased by the event.

Larabee waited and watched while they cleaned Vin up and then got him settled back in his bed again. The doctor checked him over and listened to his chest. Tanner's disoriented gaze swept the room, coming to rest on Larabee, the growing panic fading as soon as he saw the blond was there with him.

Chris smiled thinly, still amazed - no, awed - by the trust Vin showed in him.

When the doctor was finished, she took a step back and said, "You're doing very well, Mr. Tanner."

"C'n I go home then?" Vin rasped hopefully.

"Let me run a few tests and we will see if we can't let you go home this afternoon. How does that sound?"

Vin nodded. And, as soon the doctor and nurses left, he looked at Larabee and asked, "Ezra?"

"Don't worry, he's doing fine. Just a leg wound - through and through. It didn't hit the bone, or any major veins or arteries. He'll have to do some physical therapy, but he should be back out there dazzling them with bullshit in no time."

Vin's eyes closed and he sagged back against his pillow. "Glad t' hear it." His eyes opened again and he peered up at Larabee. "Y' all right, too?"

"Yep," Chris replied, trying to suppress a smile. "Thanks to you." He paused for a moment and then added, "But if you ever do anything like that again, I'll shoot you myself. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Wasn't thinkin'," Vin replied honestly, his voice sounding rough and scratchy. "I's tryin' t' save yer ungrateful ass. Ezra's, too."

"And you did," Chris replied. "But makin' yourself a target isn't- It's just- I don't want you to- Hell, Vin, you're not expendable!"

"Never thought I was," he muttered in a raspy reply, blue eyes closed once more. "But I didn't figger you or Ez were either."

Chris smiled thinly at that. "I appreciate that, Vin, but. . ." He trailed off, not sure what to say. "Couldn't you just have shot him?"

"Hell, Lar'bee, I did shoot 'im. . . just couldn't kill 'im." Vin paused a moment, then asked, "What happened after that?"

"You don't remember?"

"Wouldn't be askin' if I did, now would I?" he snapped irritably.

Well, Tanner logic was still impeccable as ever. Larabee moved his chair closer to the bed and sat down. "You got hit in the chest."

"That much I know," Vin replied dryly, his hand coming up to gingerly explore the ugly bruise.

"Hurts, huh?"

"A mite."

"I'll bet," Larabee said, shaking his head. He'd never met a man with a higher pain tolerance, and he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know how Tanner had come by it. "A few minutes after you were hit you stopped breathing."

The man's blue eyes shot open. "What?"

"The doctor says it's like you had an asthma attack."

"That why they had-" His voice caught and Chris handed him a cup of ice chips, a spoon buried in the center. He took a scoop and sighed as the coolness hit his aching throat. "That why that damned tube down m' throat?"

Chris nodded. "They had to do your breathing for you for a while."

Vin shook his head, his hand moving up to rub absently at his throat. "'M breathin' just fine now. Can't I get out 'a here?"

Larabee shook his head. "You heard the doctor; if the tests look good, then you can go home. Maybe. And by God you're going to rest for a day or two!"

"Hell, Chris, ain't no need fer that," Vin argued, but there was no real passion behind it and Larabee knew it.

"I think there is."

Tanner rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue any more. It sounded too good. "Think they'd let me. . . go see Ez?"

"Probably. . . If I take you in a wheelchair."

"Aw hell, I didn't get shot in the leg, y' know."

"Hey, you want to go or not?"

"Shit. . . Oh, all right, I'll let y' give me a push."

Chris flashed him a hungry leer. "You wait 'til you're home. I'll give you a push all right. But you go see Ezra only if the doctor agrees that you can go."

Vin sighed heavily. "Yer gettin' soft, Cowboy. Time was y'd just wrangle up a chair an' take me."

"Just getting wiser, that's all."

"Soft."

Larabee sighed. There was no winning when it came to Tanner. "I'll go see if I can find the doctor." He started out of the room, then paused, turning back. "And I damn well better find your scrawny ass in that bed when I get back. You hear me?"

Tanner sighed heavily. "Yeah, I hear ya. . . and it ain't scrawny."

Larabee's eyes narrowed. "Tanner. . ."

"Fine, I'll wait right here fer ya," Vin growled, looking more than a little annoyed. "That make y' happy?'

Chris smiled. Okay, so maybe he could still win one occasionally. "Yep. . . and it is a little scrawny."

"Ain't what y' said when you're buried in it the last time," Tanner called in a soft rasp that almost had Chris fully hard before he got out of the room.

Nope, he couldn't win.

Four days later

Chris watched as Ezra slowly crossed the den and sank down into one of the recliners. The man was still limping and he leaned heavily on the handsome cane he had picked up from somewhere, but he was finally out of the hospital.

Standish sighed gratefully as he settled into the chair. That accomplished, he carefully leaned back and pushed the footrest up so his leg was elevated. He sighed again.

"How are you feeling?" Chris asked him, waiting for the others to bring in the food from the kitchen.

"The pain is tolerable," Ezra replied. "And they assure me I will make a full recovery. However, it will occur in its own good time, not on my desired schedule; more's the pity."

A soft chuckle filled the room and Tanner's voice rose from the sofa. "Why can't y' just say it hurts like hell, but yer gettin' better?"

"Barbarian," Ezra replied with tolerant affection. "But I shall still take this opportunity to thank you for saving my life, Mr. Tanner. Needless to say, I do appreciate your rash actions on my behalf."

"I was just doin' m' job, Ez."

"Be that as it may, I am in your debt, sir."

Tanner pushed himself up and looked at Standish. "Y' don't owe me nothin', Ezra. If I'd seen that man before the shootin' started, like I should've, y' wouldn't 'a gotten shot."

"None of us is perfect," Chris said, finally able to relax now that his team was home.

"Some of us just manage to come closer to that desired state than others," Standish intoned with his usually audacity.

Vin snorted. "Guess that'd be you?"

"No," Ezra replied sincerely. "Not I, Mr. Tanner."

Vin blushed furiously and shook his head. "Hell, Ezra, I's just watchin' out for m' friends. . . m' family."

Chris and Ezra exchanged glances. And what could they say to that?

The others entered then with the food they'd been fixing and Team Seven settled in to share a meal, complete and whole at last, albeit a little tattered.

And, after they were done, Ezra explained why he'd had Josiah stop by the French bakery after he'd picked him up at the hospital. The agents finished with an exotic dessert they all enjoyed, and strong coffee, before the men headed home, Ezra with Josiah, who would be putting the man up at his condo until he was ready to take care of himself at home once more.

When Chris and Vin were finally alone, Larabee turned to his lover and said, "Come on, it's time I rubbed some of that stuff onto that bruise."

Vin sighed softly. "When do y' think yer gonna get over this mother hen thing?"

"'Mother hen thing'?" Chris repeated. "Damn it, Tanner, you nearly died five days ago. The doctor said you had to go easy for a couple of weeks."

Vin rolled his eyes as he locked the front door and then started down the hallway toward the bedroom. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But I feel fine now."

"Which is why you can't bend over without groaning?"

"Hell, Chris, sure 'm a little sore, I took a shot t' m' vest," Vin said, turning to face the man. "But I ain't dead."

"You damn near were, Vin. I watched you turn blue and stop breathing. The doctor said you need to rest, and by God you're going to rest."

"Rest, yeah, but yer turnin' me int' a goddamn monk!" Tanner complained, his accent getting thicker along with his frustration.

Larabee stopped, blinked, and closed his mouth. Then he took a deep breath and asked, "What?"

Tanner sighed heavily. "Never mind," he grumbled, shaking his head. He turned and continued on down the hallway, disappearing into the bedroom.

Chris stood there for a moment, unsure what he'd done wrong. He was just trying to take care of Vin, just trying to make sure he got the rest the doctor had said he needed.

Realization dawned. And ignoring every advance the sniper had made since the day he'd come home from the hospital.

Larabee sighed, his head dropping to hang limply. Damn. Then his head came back up, fire in his green eyes. It wasn't like he wanted Vin any less. He was just trying to do the best thing for him, because, God knew, Tanner almost never did what was best for himself!

Like you do? his little voice piped up.

He snorted softly, trying to ignore that thought. But he couldn't.

He had very nearly watched the man he loved die, he reminded himself forcefully.

And Vin nearly saw a sniper kill you and Ezra, the little voice added.

Chris growled.

The shadow of death needs the light of life, and love, to banish it from our hearts. He'd read that. . . somewhere. It was after the second time he and Vin had made love, and he'd realized that the memories of his loss had suddenly become easier to bear.

That was where Tanner was coming from. He wanted Chris to banish the shadows that were haunting him, just like he'd wanted Vin to do for him. But he'd been too afraid of hurting the man to allow it to happen.

It had been four days, and Vin was doing fine. He was getting stronger, looking better. . . well, except for the bruising, which was as ugly as ever, if a different color now. Still, there really wasn't any reason he couldn't make love to the man, not if he was careful and didn't put too much pressure on his ribs.

Just go fuck the shit out of him, will ya?

With a sigh, he started down the hall, hoping Vin wouldn't say no.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

When he stepped into the bedroom it was to see Vin coming out of the bathroom, dressed in just his briefs. His chest was a horrendous mix of green and yellow bruises, but other than that, he looked fine.

Chris walked over to him, stopping him from reaching the bed.

"I'm tired," he said, not bothering to look up at Larabee. "Don't want to argue no more."

"Don't plan to argue," Chris said, reaching out to pull Vin to him. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "But seeing you like that. . ."

"Damn it, Larabee, don't y' think I was scared, too? I was!"

"Then you know-"

"I know that sniper damn near killed y'. . . an' that I did what I had to t' make sure he didn't finish what he started."

"I know that," Chris replied, the two men slowly beginning to grind their groins softly against each other. "We're both alive."

"I want t' feel like we are," Tanner moaned softly as Larabee's hands slipped under his briefs and began kneading his butt cheeks. He responded, pressing his mouth against the older man's and driving his tongue into Larabee's mouth.

As soon as they parted, Chris knelt, pulling down Tanner's briefs. He caressed the man lovingly and fondled his balls before he took him into his mouth as if he planned to swallow him whole.

Vin let out a soft cry, his body beginning to shake almost immediately.

Chris chuckled, and settled into a spirited suck. Moments later, Vin came.

Tanner couldn't keep quiet as he let go, and Chris kept working him with that voracious mouth, took him to the root.

As Vin came, Chris buried his nose in the tangle of soft hair, staying on the sniper even when he began to soften. He finally settled back on his haunches and smiled up at the younger man.

Vin managed a grin in reply. He'd never felt so empty. It was like Larabee had drained every drop out of him, and then some.

Chris stood and pulled Tanner into his arms. His cock own was still stiff and listed down slightly due to its large heft.

They kissed, Vin tasting himself on Larabee's lips.

Then the older man stepped away and grabbed the KY off the nightstand. He squeezed out some, rubbing it over his cock. He turned Tanner and pushed some into Vin's ass as well, fingering his hole for a few seconds before withdrawing and positioning the sniper against the wall.

"If we do this standing up, it shouldn't bother your ribs," he said.

"Yeah, good idea," Vin replied, bracing his hands against the wall and wiggling his ass at the older man. "C'mon, Chris. . . Hurry up."

Larabee wasted no time spreading Vin's ass cheeks and shoving in. Tanner moaned loudly, his head arching back with the penetration. And, as that thick cock began to impale him repeatedly, the sniper began to twitch like he was a puppet on a string.

Chris settled into a steady pace, fucking Tanner like he owned him. He murmured as he thrust, small grunts coming in time with each push. Vin heard the slap of flesh begin as Larabee's movements grew more urgent and, a few moments later, Chris's breathing became labored and he dug his fingers into Vin's hips, driving hard.

And, when Larabee unloaded, Vin heard a guttural cry, as if a roar was being held in check. That sound, coupled with what Larabee's cock was doing up inside him, sent Vin tumbling over the edge and he jerked frantically on his cock as he sought a second orgasm, but he couldn't quite manage it.

When he was done, Chris slid his arms around Vin's waist and rested his head on the sniper's shoulder. "God, Vin," he managed, "I thought I was going to lose you. . . I can't lose you, Vin. . . I can't do that again."

Vin felt the warm tears strike his bare shoulder, and the slow swell of the flaccid cock pressed against his crack.

"Chris. . ." Vin whimpered. "Take me. . . I need y'. . . need y' now."

Chris reached down, his fingers running around the slick, gaping pucker, and then slipped his finger inside.

"Chris. . ." Tanner moaned as Larabee finger-fucked him, thrusting steadily, then slowly withdrew, and poked two fingers back in, driving the sniper crazy. A few strokes later and Chris's cock went back in.

Chris stood closer now, his arms wrapped around Tanner, holding him tightly, grinding the sniper's ass like he thought he could bury himself even farther in there. "Do you know how much I love you?" he growled in Vin's ear.

"Much as I love you," Tanner gasped, thinking Larabee was close to coming again. His words had that kind of edge to them. He knew if he touched himself he'd come this time, so he left his flailing cock alone. Chris, however, surprised him.

Larabee pulled out abruptly, turned Vin around, and presented the sniper with a wicked smile. "Think you could take it lying down?"

"Hell yeah," Tanner replied with a wolfish grin. He settled on his back in the center of the bed.

Chris climbed onto the bed and raised Tanner's legs, holding them wide and staring at his naked ass. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," Vin said. Like he'd even notice a little twinge from his ribs when all he could anticipate was watching Chris fuck him?

Chris knelt and guided his cock back up Tanner's chute. He went in slowly, eased himself nearly out, then went all the way back in, giving the sniper all he had to offer.

"Yes. . ." Vin moaned.

When Chris reached for Tanner's cock, the sniper grabbed his legs and held them high and wide so Chris only had to fuck and jerk.

Chris spat in his palm, then stroked Vin in time with his thrusts, creating one long connection between them that left the sniper feeling like he was being played by a master. He writhed in ecstasy.

"Come for me, Vin," Larabee whispered, shoving in harder. "I need to see you come." He kept taking, riding in and out of the sniper's ass until the man did what he'd been told, creamy globs of seed erupting onto his belly and making his ass muscles clench around that driving cock.

Chris was breathing hard now, growling, and Tanner began to chant, "Yeah. . . so good. . . fuck me, Chris. . . yeah, like that. . . fuck me. . ."

The litany pushed Larabee over the edge and he let go of Tanner's softening cock, grabbed his feet, and bore down into the sniper as he came, pumping and pounding, until he was finally through.

His mouth open, he sucked in long, exhausted breaths.

Vin lowered his legs, and Chris eased his cock out of the man. He gave Tanner a long smile, then leaned forward and began licking the come off the younger man's stomach. He was on all fours as he lapped it up, his cock hanging there, beautifully soft, and Vin thought about sucking on it, feeding while it slept.

When Vin was clean, Chris sat back and stared down at him. "You okay?"

"Fine," Tanner replied, a lopsided grin on his face. He met his lover's gaze and whispered, "I'm really fine."

Larabee crawled up and lay down next to him, holding him, and being held in return. "God, Vin, I was so scared. . ."

"I ain't gonna leave ya, Chris."

"Don't say that," he snapped, pulling back as far as Tanner would allow him. "You don't know-"

"Yeah, I do. I don't know how, but I know like I know the sun's comin' up tomorrow that I ain't gonna get killed and leave y' alone. It ain't gonna happen."

Chris lay back down, holding the man tightly. "You damn well better not."

"Won't happen, lover. I'm gonna be right here, lovin' ya, gettin' loved by ya. . . We're gonna get old and cranky t'gether. Hell, yer already halfway there."

"What?" Chris demanded, letting the teasing lure him back from the edge of despair.

"Well, half the time yer cranky, and yer already old."

"Old?"

"Hell, yeah. . . old man."

"I'll show you old," Larabee growled, nibbling at the side of Tanner's neck.

"Cranky, too."

"Like hell I am."

"Yep, old 'n' cranky. . ."

Chris's hand strayed down, tickling Tanner's hip and making him giggle. God, he loved that sound. He loved it almost as much as he loved that little gasp the man made when Larabee sank into him, or the soft whimper he made just before he came, or the sigh as he drifted off to sleep. Oh, hell, he just loved the man. And Vin was alive, and healing, and happy, and safe in his arms.

All was right with the world once more.

Comments

Author's Note: This story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Seven Card Stud #8, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Seven Card Stud that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Erica Michaels (gen bits) and Lorin Zane (slash bits) are the primary author of this story, they had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang - Dori Adams, Sierra Chaves, Dana Ely, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Dani Martin, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 10-20-2006. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)