MAIN CHARACTERS: Chris/Vin

WARNINGS/Comments: Graphic description of male-male sex.

Editor's Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Seven Card Stud #11, 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 and Lorin Zane are the primary authors 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 6-5-2008. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com).

Author's Note: The gen version of this story was originally slated for A Small Circle of Friends, the Neon RainBow recycling zine, since it's a recycle of the "Critical List" episode of SOF: Special Ops Force. However, since it fit the parameters for a themed issue of Compadres, and since Erica had done another Mag 7 story for A Small Circle of Friends, it was first printed in gen form in Compadres #27.

TransPacific Oil Refinery

Phoenix, Arizona

Sunday, 2100 Hours

The facility was dark, only a few security flood lights raining down cones of weak yellow light here and there among the sharp tangle of oil storage tanks, processing equipment, and pipes. A ten foot high chain-link fence surrounded it all, topped with a coil of razor-wire. Several big rigs were parked in a line along one side of the fence, the cylindrical containers they would pull sitting empty for the moment.

Not far away from the facility, on a small hill, a large navy blue Chevy Suburban was parked. In the front seat sat Special Agent JD Dunne, the youngest member of the ATF's Team Seven, and their resident computer wizard. He had a laptop sitting open on his thighs, watching closely as three red dots moved within the schematic of the refinery and the surrounding area that he currently had up on his screen.

"Got you covered, Chris," he said into his lip mike. "Infrared data from the keyhole satellite shows only one more guard on the property. He's close to the fence, about a hundred yards to your right."

Just outside the refinery fence, Chris Larabee, leader of the Denver ATF's Team Seven – a special operations group created within the federal agency – moved cautiously, the dart gun in his hands ready to be used.

Inside the refinery fence were agents Ezra Standish and Vin Tanner. Standish, a former FBI agent, was the team's primary undercover operative. Tanner, on the other hand, was a former Army sniper, bounty hunter and US Marshal. He was there to protect Standish.

"We're good t' go, Chris," Vin said softly into his lip mike, his gaze moving constantly, looking for any signs of trouble. The two of them had already taken down three security guards inside the facility.

Beside the sniper, Standish huffed out a soft breath. He much preferred undercover work to clandestine raids, but it was the intelligence he had gathered on the refinery that was critical to this mission; therefore he had to come along.

On the same side of the fence as Larabee were the remaining members of Team Seven – Buck Wilmington, Josiah Sanchez and Nathan Jackson. Each of these men kept watch on an exit of the facility, making sure no one slipped in to disturb Standish and Tanner's work.

"On my signal, Vin," JD told him over the communications unit, and then asked, "Are we clear for an escape, Chris?"

"Negative," Larabee replied softly as he moved up silently on the last security guard. The man was leaning up against one of the big rig hitches, smoking a cigarette.

Chris moved up to the fence, carefully took aim, and fired. The dart sank deep into the back of the man's right shoulder and he jerked to his feet, straightening and reaching back with his free hand to feel for whatever it was that had struck him. A moment later his knees buckled and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"The last target is neutralized. We are clear for escape. I'm heading back to base," he stated and immediately started for the Suburban.

"Bravo Two, we are now good to go," JD told Vin and Ezra. He watched as the two red dots inside the perimeter of the fence began to move.

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

"Move out," Tanner said softly to Ezra, who reached out and grabbed hold of the sniper's shirtsleeve.

Vin had point and he moved quickly but carefully toward the center of the refinery.

Standish followed behind him, walking mostly backwards, sweeping the darkness behind them for any signs of guards or other potential trouble. With his hand on Tanner's shirtsleeve, he could feel when the man changed direction and adjusted accordingly, all without having to look away from their vulnerable backs.

"Okay…" JD announced in their ear units as they drew closer to the target.

"Y' got a position for us?" Vin asked him, coming to a stop.

Ezra released his hold and scanned the area behind them carefully. Something seemed wrong. This was all happening so… easily. That just didn't seem right – not that he didn't appreciate easy when it happened, he just wasn't used to it happening.

"Target's down the stairs about two hundred feet to the west of you."

"Roger that," Tanner replied, and Standish could hear the unease in the sniper's voice as well.

Vin edged up to the side of some pumping equipment, checked to be sure the way was clear, then whispered, "C'mon, Ez."

Standish followed as they slipped past a line of storage tanks, getting closer to their target.

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

Back at the Suburban, Larabee arrived and slipped into the passenger seat.

"This is too easy," JD remarked, flashing the man a quick glance.

"There's no such thing," Larabee remarked, responded, his gaze already moving, checking out the windows for signs of trouble or detection. He didn't want to say so, but he was worried as well. Something felt… wrong, or off, or something. Whatever it was, it came down to what JD had just said – it was all too easy.

He glanced down at the flashing lights on the computer screen. One of them belonged to the man he'd fallen in love with and he knew, without a doubt, that Tanner was headed into danger… into trouble. He felt his heart rate increase and his palms began to sweat.

Be careful, Vin, he pleaded silently.

"Target acquired," JD announced into his lip mike when the two dots reached the correct building.

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

Vin and Ezra entered the building where the undercover man had learned there were explosive chemical weapons being stored. The door was easy to breach, which sent Tanner's internal alarms into a frenzy, but what could they do?

Inside, he led the way down the stairs, both agents sweeping the interior of the concrete building with their weapons, ready for trouble.

At the bottom of the steps, Ezra holstered his dart gun and moved to the electronic lock on the door.

Vin frowned. "No guards," he whispered into his mike. "This don't feel right," he added.

"It's got to be easy every once in a while," was Larabee's reply in his ear, but Vin could hear the worry in the man's voice quite clearly. "Make it quick."

Vin's lips disappeared into a thin line. He had his orders, but he still didn't like it, and he wished Chris had called them back.

Ezra attached a code breaker to the electronic lock, the mini-computer inside the small black box scanning through the multitude of possible numerical codes, searching for the one that would unlock the door. Within seconds it had found it, and the bolt holding the door closed popped open.

"We're in," Vin stated, continuing to sweep the small space and the stairs for trouble. This was just too easy, way too easy… "Chris?" he said, the question obvious.

"Continue with the mission," Larabee told him after a second's pause.

Tanner's head jerked a fraction to the left, then to the right. There was nothing he could do about it. They were here. They had to see if what they thought was stored in the facility was actually there.

"Now for the centerfold of Chemical Weapons Weekly…" Standish said drolly as he lifted a digital camera, ready to take a picture of whatever was hidden behind the closed door.

Vin pulled the door open and Ezra stepped up next to him.

"What—?" Standish yelped in surprise.

"It's empty," Tanner stated, his heart beginning to race. This was bad, very bad.

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

Back in the Suburban, JD hissed, "Shit," and shook his head. He shot a glance at Larabee. "That can't be right."

"Say again?" Chris demanded.

"I repeat," came Tanner's voice, short and annoyed, "it's empty. No containers, no nothin'."

"They must've gotten wind we were coming," Buck offered over the comm unit.

"Go in and check it out," Larabee ordered. "There has to be something."

"Negative," Tanner replied. "It's clean."

"Check it out," Chris growled at the agent. "We can't let this stuff slip through our hands."

But even as he ordered Vin to do what he knew they had to, there was a part of himself demanding that he bring them back – now. Something was wrong, and Vin was in danger.

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

Vin and Ezra exchanged looks. Neither of them wanted to enter the long, empty room, but there was no other option; they couldn't allow the weapons to escape their net. But it was obvious to them both that there was nothing in the room. Still, maybe they could get a few swabs of the floor to prove that the weapons had been there.

"Stay here," Tanner told his teammate, and then slipped past the door. As soon as he did, though, an alarm was triggered and began to bark loudly in the building, echoing outside as well. The sniper was immediately moving, spinning and lunging out of the room. "C'mon!" he bellowed at Standish. "Go! Go! Go!" He reached out, grabbed the door on his way past and slammed it shut behind them.

The two men raced up the stairs and burst outside, each of them sprinting for the cover of the refinery equipment. Vin vaulted over a pipe and kept going, his HK swinging in the direction of his gaze, which swept left and right, up and down. Behind him Ezra followed, but then ducked back when Vin passed into the shadows ahead of him and a guard appeared, coming out of a building to his right.

"More guards," Standish announced into his mike. That was not supposed to be the case.

"That's not possible," Larabee replied into his ear.

"I've got one!" the guard yelled, spotting Standish, who jerked back into the shadows and started to run.

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

Having heard the undercover man's announcement and the guard's yell, Vin stopped, hidden in the darkness. But he could already see at least three other men headed in his direction. "I've got a problem here," he snapped into his mike. "Permission t' shoot."

"Ezra, can you help Vin?" Chris asked over the comm unit. The last thing he wanted was for his people to waste some minimum wage security guards.

Standish, who thought he had slipped his pursuer, stopped, his mind racing as he sought for something he could do to help Vin. Then he saw the metal ladder running up the side of one of the storage tanks. He started up without hesitation. "On my way," he said.

Tanner was moving, too, using his ears to pick out where the guards were and trying to avoid them. But one was quieter than the rest and he managed to work his way in behind the sniper.

"Stop!" he barked. "Hold it right there!"

Vin froze, except for his head, which snapped around so he could see the man, who was holding his Beretta nine-millimeter trained on him. Vin himself was holding an HK, but unless Larabee gave him permission, he couldn't use it to defend himself. Vin knew why. The guards were just doing their jobs. They had no idea what was going on at the refinery. He didn't want to kill the man, but he didn't think the guard would show him the same courtesy.

"Hands up!" the man yelled at Vin. "Now!"

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

Ezra had reached the top of the tank and immediately swung toward the sound of the man's voice, raising his dart gun and firing before he really had a chance to think about what he was doing.

The dart hit its target and the guard's eyes rounded. He lifted the nine-millimeter, preparing to fire at Vin, but then his knees gave way and he dropped heavily to the ground.

Tanner was immediately moving toward the tank where Ezra was, knowing the undercover man had made himself a target for the shot.

Another guard arrived, aiming his Smith & Wesson at Standish and yelling, "Hey, you! Get down from there!"

Ezra bolted forward, bent over as far as he could go so as to present the smallest target.

The guard opened fire.

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

Larabee was out of the Suburban and headed back to the fence as quickly as he could go. He'd blown it when he'd ordered Vin and Ezra into that empty room; now his people were fighting for their lives.

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

Vin reached the side of another storage tank and stopped, trying to get a clear shot at the guard who was firing on Ezra. Then he saw it happen.

Ezra reached the end of the storage tank. Not far away was the top of another. He jumped, but the guard fired at the same time and Standish's body reacted instinctively to the bullet that whizzed past his head – he jerked and, as a result, he missed the edge of the tank, hitting it instead, falling the distance to the ground.

Several more guards appeared out of the darkness, converging on the spot where Standish had fallen.

Vin started forward as well.

"Freeze!" a voice yelled from behind him.

Tanner spun, his HK coming up in his hands so he could fire, but he already knew he couldn't pull the trigger; he'd have to surrender. One hand came off the weapon, starting to reach for the sky so the man would know he was no threat.

The guard, however, only saw the rifle coming up and he reacted, firing at Vin.

With his arm up, the bullet caught the sniper in the only vulnerable spot on his torso, the area just below his armpit and above the top of his bulletproof vest. Tanner was knocked off his feet by the searing impact.

A car skidded to a stop near him, yet another guard climbing out, drawing his gun and aiming it at the fallen man. "Don't move," he barked at Tanner.

But Vin couldn't move, could hardly breathe, it seemed. "Bravo Two is down," he rasped into his lip mike.

Another of the guards pulled a walkie-talkie from the holder on his belt and pressed the mike down, saying, "We need an ambulance out here ASAP!"

Vin's eyes started to close as the world suddenly began to collapse into what he thought must be some kind of black hole. At least it looked like the images of a black hole he'd seen on various science fiction shows. He wondered briefly if Ezra was all right, and if Chris and the others were coming for them. He thought for a moment he could hear them, Chris and Buck, anyway. Had the others been caught?

Easy… too damn easy… and now, here he was, unable to move, unable to breathe… Chris was going to be pissed…

Damn, he thought as the last of the world disappeared into the blackness… His last thought was that if he died, Chris was going to kill him…

"Love y', Cowboy," he managed to whisper into the mike as his awareness was stripped away.

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

On the far side of the fence, Larabee arrived just in time to see Vin knocked off his feet by the shot from the guard's gun.

"Bravo Two is down," he heard the man rasp into his ear.

"Hang on, Vin," he said softly, praying the man could still hear him. "Please… just hang on."

Then he heard the other guard make the call for the ambulance.

"We can't get to them now," came Buck's voice in his ear.

No, they couldn't, but he wasn't going to leave them behind, either. Then, before he could say anything, he heard Vin whisper, "Love y', Cowboy."

"Chris?" Buck asked in response.

"Everyone back to the vehicles," Larabee hissed. "Follow the ambulance. I want to know where they're taken."

He turned and started back for the Suburban. This was his fault. Vin had known something was wrong, but he'd told the man to keep going. Damn it, he might as well have pulled the trigger himself!

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

Mercy Hospital and Regional Trauma Center

Phoenix, Arizona

Sunday, 2200 Hours

The medics wheeled Ezra into the ER first. A doctor met them, asking, "What do you have?"

"Broken bones, possible internal bleeding, multiple contusions," the medic responded as a nurse hurried up to the side of the gurney.

"Five milligrams morphine, exam room one," the physician told the nurse. The doctor was on the short side and in her mid-thirties, with dark blonde hair that was pulled back and held up with a pair of utilitarian clips. Some might call her pretty, but it was in a healthy, "farmer's daughter" kind of way. She also knew how to take over in a crisis, which was the usual state of affairs in her ER.

"What happened?" she snapped as the second gurney reached her.

"Gunshot wound to the thorax," the medic replied, continuing to squeeze the ambubag. "He was wearing a vest, but the bullet went in on the side. Pulse is almost nonexistent."

She turned to another nurse, saying, "Start him on Ringers, wide open. Five mil morphine, IV push, get him typed and prepped for surgery." She started to make a note in her log, but stopped when someone called her name. She turned to find a Black woman walking up to her.

"Are you Dr. Eva Emory?" the woman asked her.

"Yes," she replied, already suspicious. "And you are?"

"Jaclyn Welch, FBI," the woman answered, flashing the doctor her credentials. "Are you in charge of the gunshot wound?"

"Why, you shoot him?" she asked the woman.

"Of course not," Welch replied. "The FBI wants him alive."

Close by, in a waiting area, Larabee and JD watched the exchange. "Didn't take long for the feebs to get here," Chris commented quietly.

JD nodded, his expression confused. "Yeah, but how'd they know?"

Larabee raised his hand to silence the younger man.

"So, what are his chances?" the FBI agent asked the physician.

"This isn't Vegas," the doctor responded a little sharply. "I don't give odds."

"What about the other one?" Welch asked.

"You can talk to him in about an hour," Dr. Emory replied, turning and walking away.

The other three men came up to join Chris and JD. "We heard," Buck said softly. "Even if we could get to 'em, we couldn't move 'em."

"We can't move Vin anyway, it would kill him," Nathan added softly. "He's gonna need surgery – right now."

"Then we wait," Chris replied. "In the meantime, keep an eye on the feeb, find out who she's reporting to."

The men of Team Seven watched as two more feds, a man and another woman, walked up to join Welch. The man removed his ID and showed it to the FBI agent, saying, "Dobson, NSC." He gestured to the woman. "Flores. We'll be taking over the investigation. Would you come with us, please?"

"What?" Welch questioned, looking as confused as the men watching the little drama unfold.

"My boss wants to speak to you."

"And who's your boss?" she asked, but the two agents were already escorting her away.

"I'll see if I can listen in," Buck said, moving off to follow the agents.

Chris nodded, trying to stay focused, but all he could hear was the paramedic's comment: "Pulse is almost nonexistent."

Jesus, he thought, his knees going weak. Vin… Oh God… Don't you die, Vin. Don't you dare die.

JD looked over at Chris. He wanted to ask about what Vin had said, but he didn't want to interrupt the man's thoughts. Glancing over at Josiah, he saw the big man shake his head, letting him know now wasn't the time or place. But he still wondered what it was all about.

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

Sunday, 2300 Hours

At the desk in his home office, Assistant Director Orin Travis, of the ATF, listened to the harsh voice of his best and favorite agent, Chris Larabee.

"I don't want any excuses. Your intel was wrong."

"We all knew the risks going in to this," the older man said calmly as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt anything but calm himself. How the hell had this all gone so sour so quickly?

"I've got two of my people captured and shot up for nothing," was the immediate reply.

"Someone at TransPacific must have suspected we knew they were making the weapons and moved them."

"Yeah, and maybe there are no weapons at all. Maybe all TransPacific makes is rocket fuel after all."

"Chris, you and I both reviewed the intel. And Agent Standish got them to admit that they were involved in something illegal. They're dirty. All we needed were the pictures, or a sample, to prove it."

"Yeah, well, we've got squat." He heard Chris take a deep breath before he added, "And I've got two friends who've been hurt and are about to be arrested for spying on a classified government contractor."

Travis sagged back in his chair. "Is there any way we can get them out of that hospital?"

Larabee released another long sigh. "No," he finally said, adding, "I don't even know if Vin's gonna make it. He's still in surgery."

"The FBI, or the NSC, is going to want names," Travis said, his voice suddenly tired.

"You listen to me," Chris snapped at him, "my people won't talk. Do you hear me? They won't talk."

"If they do, this task force is more than likely out of business," Travis warned him. Team Seven was a prototype, a task force with more authority than regular ATF agents. The FBI and DEA hadn't been keen on the idea, but the ATF had a Congressional benefactor and the plan had been given the go-ahead without any interdepartmental discussion or approval. If they blew this case, that lack of support would probably mean an end to the Regional Mobile Enforcement Teams before they had really had a chance to prove what they could do.

"It won't happen," Larabee assured him. "Vin and Ezra know deniability is the name of the game in our own backyard."

"Chris?" Travis overheard JD interrupt. "There's something you need to see."

"I'll have to call you back," Larabee told him, and the line went dead.

Travis settled back at his desk and sighed heavily. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

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

Chris reached the door and Josiah met him there. "Come with me," he said softly, leading the way to a busy hallway in the hospital. The big man stopped at a bank of phones. He picked one up, saying, "Over by the doors."

Larabee glanced over and looked, seeing a man meeting with Dobson and Welch. He seemed to be giving the FBI agent a stern talking to. "It's Tim Neal," he said, recognizing the man from a closed hearing he'd attended in Washington, D.C. about the proposed mobile enforcement teams.

"Neal?" Sanchez questioned, a little surprised. "The man's popular at the National Security Council. Heard he'll probably get the nod for the assistant director's chair when Harrison retires. What's he doing here?"

Larabee watched as Neal shook Welch's hand and the FBI agent turned and left. "Damn it. Looks like the FBI's been replaced," he commented, the knot sitting heavily in his belly tightening further.

"Sending Neal here is the same as sending J Edgar Hoover to investigate a bank robbery in Podunk, Nowhere," Josiah said softly.

"Tell me about it. This is a lot bigger than we thought… Heads up," Larabee cautioned, leaning up against the wall and glancing away from Neal. He looked for all the world like a man waiting to use the phone.

Josiah turned to face the wall the phone was hanging on, saying, "Yeah, Tommy broke his foot… Oh, yeah, he's going to be fine… Yeah, I promise, he's fine, really. He's just a little upset. The doctor wants to..." He trailed off as Neal and Dobson passed by them, turning the corner and heading away from them down the hall.

"C'mon," Larabee said, intending to follow the NSC agents to see where they were going. And, somehow, he had to find a way to find out how Vin was doing. He knew the others had questions, but he wasn't in the mood to explain his relationship with the man just now.

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

At the end of the long hallway, Flores joined Neal and Dobson near a security guard who was standing at one of the elevators. "Identification, please?" he asked them.

Neal pulled his ID from his coat pocket and held it out for the man to inspect, which he did.

"Thank you very much," the man said, allowing the three agents to move past him to the elevators set into the wall behind him.

A moment later Chris and Josiah tried to follow the agents.

"I'm sorry," the guard said, holding up his hand to stop them, "no visitors on these elevators."

"But my sister's here," Josiah lied smoothly. "I thought she was up on the—"

"The only thing on the sixth floor of this wing is urology and the prison ward," the guard said. "The public elevators are in the other wing. Just go back down the hall, take a left at the double glass doors and the public elevators will be on your left. Those will take you to the sixth floor rooms," the big man told them.

"Oh, okay, thanks," Josiah said, giving the man a grateful smile.

Chris just nodded and they turned and started away.

"So much for waltzing through the front door," Sanchez muttered under his breath. "Sounds like if we want a look at the prison ward, one of us will have to get into urology," he added.

Chris nodded.

Flashing Larabee a toothy grin, Josiah said, "Leave that to me, brother."

The blond nodded again, wondering what the big man had in mind. He didn't really care, as long as it worked. Right now all he wanted to know was how Vin and Ezra were doing, but he wasn't sure that was going to be possible.

Why hadn't he followed his gut? Why hadn't he listened to Vin? The man's instincts were never wrong…

Vin… Christ. He had to be all right, that's all there was to it. He couldn't go thought it again – the grief, the guilt… He couldn't do it. He'd never make it, wouldn't want to.

Please, Vin… just keep fighting, okay?

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

Neal and his agents exited on the sixth floor and headed straight to the prison ward. The guard there checked their IDs and allowed them in, then closed the heavy glass doors behind them.

In his room, Ezra lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His right arm was in a cast, and his face throbbed where he had scraped his cheek. A pair of butterfly stitches held a cut on his forehead closed, and whatever parts of him that were similarly scraped ached annoyingly.

He heard the police officer standing just outside his room ask someone for their ID, and then told them, "Go ahead," a few moments later.

Two men and a woman entered his room. He didn't recognize any of them, but he could tell immediately that they were federal agents of some stripe.

The older of the two men stepped forward. "Well, I hope you're resting comfortably," he said, making sure Ezra saw his NSC credentials before he folded up the case and slipped it into the interior pocket of his suit coat.

Tim Neal. Ezra had heard the name, but he'd never met the man before. That, he decided, was the first lucky break he'd had in a while.

"Je ne comprends pas vraiment l'anglais," Standish replied in fluent French.

"Please, please, don't do that," Neal responded. "You're as American as apple pie. The police and medics said that you were speaking fluent English at the crime scene, with a southern accent, I might add."

"Je ne comprends pas," Ezra replied in French.

"Look, I don't have a beef with you," Neal said. "I know you were just following somebody else's orders."

"Je ne comprends pas," Ezra repeated.

"All right, let's see if you understand this. You were spying on a classified government contractor. That's called treason here in the good ol' US of A, which will get you life in prison, or maybe even the death penalty. Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous. You give me the name of the son-of-a-bitch who told you to play hide and seek at TransPacific, and I'll cut you a deal. You'll serve one year in minimum security, two tops."

"Vous êtes un bâtard arrogant, savez-vous cela?" Ezra asked him in French.

"I'd give it some thought if I were you," Neal warned him and then left.

Ezra closed his eyes and sighed softly, wondering what was taking the others so long to get them out of here. Unless, of course, Vin had been seriously hurt… He hoped not, but so far no one had said anything about Tanner and he hadn't wanted to let them know he spoke English, so he hadn't asked. But he was getting worried… very worried.

And he knew he wouldn't be the only one worrying about Mr. Tanner. He shook his head slightly, marveling over the revelation he'd managed to overhear while in that infernal refinery. A profession of love… amazing. But he'd known about the men's relationship for a while now, and he knew Larabee would be worried sick.

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

Neal stepped back out into the hallway, nodded to his agents and the three started away. "He's playing games. Did the other one pull through?"

"Looks that way," Dobson replied. "Hard to tell for how long at this point, though."

"Anything show up in their personal effects?" Neal questioned.

"Nothing. No wallets, no ID on either of them," Dobson replied. "Even the labels have been removed from their clothing. And it's all generic. Something anyone could buy over the Internet. They're pros."

"What about the communications equipment, the digital camera?"

"Made in Japan," Flores said.

"Run their fingerprints through the DMV, FBI and Interpol," Neal ordered. "I want to know who the hell these people are, and fast."

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

Phoenix, Arizona

Monday, 0700 Hours

"Are you gonna tell me what we're doing out here?" JD asked Josiah as the big man pulled into an anonymous strip mall and parked in front of a large drugstore that anchored one end of the line of shops.

"Follow and learn, youngster," Josiah said, and then headed inside. He grabbed one of the small plastic shopping baskets and headed into the aisles, beginning to grab items and drop them into the basket.

"Josiah," the younger man wheedled.

"It's an old trick draft dodgers used to use back during the Vietnam War," the big man explained softly. "You just mix a few things together into a cocktail, chug it down, and the next thing you know… you're on your way straight to urology."

"And just who, exactly, is gonna be doing the chugging around here?" JD asked suspiciously, afraid he already knew the answer.

Josiah slipped his arm around the younger man's shoulders and flashed him a toothy grin. "You always said you wanted to see what it was like to do undercover work, right? Well, son, this is your chance."

"I, uh… I have a problem takin' pills," JD said nervously as the big man headed off, looking for more ingredients. "I don't swallow pills so good."

Josiah picked up a long beeswax candle. "Well, I suppose I could put it into a suppository," he said, holding up the candle for JD to see. The implication was clear.

"Uh, just stick to the pills, or whatever," JD gulped, his eyes rounding with honest fear.

Sanchez chuckled softly, finding a few more of the items he needed.

"So, what are the symptoms, exactly?" JD asked him, hurrying around an aisle to catch up with him.

"Well, there isn't much pain," the older man said. "You don't see any chromium oxide, do you?"

"Chromium oxide?" JD echoed, his forehead furrowing as he frowned. "Isn't that the stuff the janitors use to clean toilets with?" he squeaked.

"It has other uses, too," Josiah assured him.

"Uh, Josiah, I'm, uh… I really don't want to drink any toilet bowl cleaners."

"Well, if you have any better ideas for how we can get someone up onto that ward, you just let me know, I'm all ears."

JD glanced around in a panic. Spotting a bottle with a prominent label, he grabbed it, saying, "Well, look, nature's equivalent of Viagra… Don't they say you should see a doctor if you have an—" He stopped, glancing around to be sure there were no other shoppers close enough to overhear him. "You know, if you have an, uh, an erection that lasts longer than four hours?"

"JD," Josiah scolded. "Who would believe you'd be using Viagra?"

The younger man sighed. "All right, all right, I guess we'll have to do it your way." Then he thought for a moment and said hopefully, "You know, you could always take the herbal Viagra…"

Josiah shook his head. "Nope, no need. Now, come on, I have everything we'll need."

"That's what I'm afraid of," JD said and sighed, following the man to the checkout counter.

When they had paid and returned to the Suburban, JD climbed in and snapped his seatbelt into place. When Josiah was seated and starting to pull out he said, "Did you hear what Vin said?"

"Yep."

JD waited for a few moments to see if the man would continue, and when he didn't, he said, "What, uh, do you think it means?"

"What do you think it means?" Josiah asked him.

JD drew in a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Well… I guess he just wanted Chris to know how much he… cares about him. You know, in case he didn't make it. He'd want Chris to know he cared about him, like they were brothers."

"Vin wanted Chris to know he loves him – not like a brother. He loves him like Chris loved Sarah. He knew he'd been hit badly and had to be sure Chris knew how he felt."

"Vin… You mean…? Vin's in love with Chris?"

"No, they're in love with each other – have been for a while now."

JD's eyes rounded and his jaw dropped open. "They– Are they… you know, sleeping together?"

"That's usually what happens when two people fall in love, now, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but… they're guys. I mean, they're not gay, are they?"

"Vin might be, but Chris? No, I don't think so."

JD looked back out at the street. He didn't have a problem with somebody being gay. Hell, he'd had friends in high school and college who were gay. But he'd never thought of Chris or Vin that way before.

And if Vin is gay? he asked himself.

Doesn't make any difference, he decided.

"How does a straight guy fall in love with someone who's gay?" he asked Josiah.

The older man flashed him a grin. "He gets damn lucky."

"I'm being serious," JD argued.

"I know you are," Josiah replied. "I can't tell you why it happened, JD, only that it did. Maybe Chris is bisexual, or he's just flexible. Or maybe, just maybe, love is a helluva lot more powerful that our so-called 'orientation.'"

JD thought about that for a minute, then nodded. "I guess it really doesn't matter, does it – as long as they're happy."

"Exactly," Josiah said, very proud of the younger man.

"Do you think Vin is going to be okay?"

"I hope so," Josiah replied, his tone and expression turning serious. "I'm praying that he will be. Can't hurt if you do, too."

JD nodded. "Yeah, I know. I've been doing it, too."

Josiah nodded. "Sometimes it's all we can do."

"That and get them the hell out of there as soon as we can."

"Amen, brother."

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

Mercy Hospital

Monday, 0900 Hours

Neal stepped into Tanner's room. The sniper was lying with his eyes closed, his body sprouting a variety of tubes and wires. Nearby, various machines kept track of the man's heartbeat, oxygen levels, and other concerns, as well as delivering IV fluids, antibiotics, blood and a steady stream of pain medication.

A nurse was standing at Tanner's bedside, checking his vitals and recording the results on his chart.

"Excuse me, but can you leave us alone for a few minutes?" Neal asked the woman, his tone friendly.

She jumped slightly, not having heard the man enter the room. Turning, she checked his ID and then nodded, saying, "Sure," as she slid the chart onto the rolling bedside table before hurrying out.

"Thank you," Neal said as she passed by.

"No problem," she replied quietly.

He looked back at Tanner, finding the sniper's eyes open just a crack. "Tim Neal," he said. "And you would be…?"

Vin remained silent. His face was bathed with sweat and he was so pale he looked almost gray.

Neal reached for Vin's chart and picked it up, checking the name. "John Doe… Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Doe." He tossed the chart back onto the rolling table and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "God, I hate hospitals," he said. "Hate the food, hate the smell…" He could see he was making no impression on the man at all, and he changed tactics. "The good doctors at this hospital saved your life; you do know that, don't you?"

Vin glared weakly at the man, but he still refused to speak.

"You know, they might have saved you from that bullet," Neal said, moving closer to the side of the narrow bed, "but they can't save you from me. Now, I suggest that you tell me what you were doing at that refinery last night."

Vin stared up at the man, pain-dimmed blue eyes defiant. He swallowed thickly and just managed to whisper, "Gettin' shot."

Neal snorted softly. The man had a pair of brass balls; he had to give him that. "Gettin' shot, huh?" He leaned forward and reached out, patting Vin on the cheek. "Get this, John. I don't play by anyone's rules but my own, and I want names…" He reached down, placing his hand over Tanner's heart, and began to press down. "…and I want 'em now."

An alarm immediately began to sound from one of the machines the injured man was connected to.

Vin gasped for air, pain exploding throughout his chest, the wave of pure agony threatening to tumble him into unconsciousness once again. He reached up and grabbed on to Neal's wrist, but he was too weak to move the man's hand.

"Are you all right?" someone asked and Neal quickly turned around, a false smile curling his lips.

"Doctor," he greeted. "Mr. Doe and I were just getting acquainted," he explained as Vin struggled to breathe, each pain-filled gasp making Dr. Emory a little more angry.

She knew Neal had been abusing her patient, she could tell from the look "John Doe" was giving the man. "May I speak to you in private for a moment, please?" she asked, but it was abundantly clear that she wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

"It would be my pleasure," he responded, his gaze traveling up her body to meet her eyes.

Dr. Emory suddenly felt like she'd been groped by something foul and dirty.

Neal turned and looked down at Tanner. "I'm so glad we had this chance to get acquainted. We'll talk again – soon," he promised, then turned and left the room.

Eva paused just long enough to meet her patient's eyes. Her eyebrows rose in a silent question: Will you be all right?

Vin nodded once, his eyes closing again as the pain finally fell off to something more manageable. If he ever got the chance, he would be sure to shoot that son of a bitch.

She turned and followed Neal from the room, catching him in the hallway. "I didn't give you permission to question my patient," she snapped angrily.

"Oh, c'mon, Doctor," he replied, "we were just having a friendly conversation."

"He's in no condition to have a conversation with anyone but me," she stated. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Doctor, are you forgetting that he's a suspect in a federal criminal investigation?"

"Are you forgetting that his vitals were so low my EMTs nearly pronounced him dead at the scene?"

"He looks like he's recovering just fine to me," Neal told her with a dismissive gesture.

"His blood pressure's elevated and he's running a fever of a hundred and three degrees. You keep torturing him like that and you're not going to have someone left to question."

"Look, Doctor…" He made a show of checking her chest for her name tag. "…Emory, I don't try to tell you how to do your job, so don't you tell me how to do mine." And with that he stepped around her and headed off down the hall.

She watched him go, angry and, at the same time, frightened by the coldness she had seen in his eyes. Whoever he was, he was cruel and he was dangerous, and she would be damned if she'd let him kill her patient.

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

Monday, 1300 Hours

"It came on all of a sudden," Josiah told the nurse standing behind the admissions window. She was an older woman, African-American, with short grey hair and glasses that dangled from around her neck on a string of sparkly, multi-colored plastic beads. Beside him, JD was shifting nervously from one foot to the other, looking decidedly uncomfortable and skittish.

"What are the symptoms?" the nurse asked JD.

"Uh, nausea… cramps… dizziness," he told her, shooting an accusing glance up at his "father."

"Anything else?" she asked him, catching the look.

JD looked back at her and then away, muttering, "It's really embarrassing…"

"Go on, son, tell her," Josiah encouraged him.

"Believe me, I've seen it all before," she assured JD.

Hopefully not, Josiah thought as he reached up and rested his hand on JD's shoulder. "Go on, JD… tell her."

"I… I can't… It's horrible."

"Then step aside, I have sick patients to see," she snapped at him.

Josiah's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Tell her, son, or I will."

JD looked back at the woman, his cheeks coloring as he mumbled, "It's purple."

"What?" she questioned.

"I'm peeing purple," JD repeated softly.

"Excuse me?" she asked, frowning.

"I said, I'm peeing purple," JD snapped clearly and loudly this time. The other people in the admissions area looked at him, a few of them grinning, a few frowning.

She gave him an incredulous look, then turned and stepped away from the window for a moment. When she returned, she handed him a small plastic cup. "I'll need to see a sample."

JD took the cup.

"The men's room is right over there," she said, pointing across the hallway. "Hurry up, now."

JD shot Josiah a withering look, but he headed to the restroom, returning a few moments later.

"Well?" she said, her head inclining forward and her eyebrows lifting.

JD held up the cup, which was half full of purple pee.

She stared at the color for a long moment, then reached out and accepted the sample cup from him. Her eyes narrowed. "You sure this isn't grape juice?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Ma'am, I wouldn't do a taste test if I were you," Josiah said sincerely. "The boy's telling you the truth."

"You poor, poor child," she said, concern immediately replacing her suspicion. "We have to get you admitted right away for tests."

"Tests?" JD yelped in concern. "What kinds of tests?" He shot another look at Josiah, this one half-worried and half-afraid.

"Never you mind," she replied. "You're in good hands now." She looked up at him, saying, "I'm going to expedite the paperwork and take you up to urology personally."

"Wow," JD said when she had disappeared. "That was easy." He grinned slightly, still worried, but also excited by pulling off the con. No wonder Ezra enjoyed undercover work so much.

"See, I told you it would work," Josiah said softly.

The nurse joined them in the hallway, glancing around. "Why is there never a wheelchair around here when you need one?" she muttered to herself, then looked at the two men, saying, "Stay right here, I'll be right back."

"Listen," Josiah said when she was a few yards away, "I don't want you to be afraid of the size of the scope…"

"Scope?" JD questioned. "What scope? Josiah…?"

"It's just part of the preliminary exam," he told the younger man, giving the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. "They stick it— Look, you're sticking your, uh, neck out for the cause, right? The important thing is to get onto the sixth floor, find out what you can about the prison ward. Careful, here she comes."

The nurse pushed a wheelchair up to JD, saying, "Okay, let's ride…"

"Uh, look, I'm starting to feel better," JD told her, but Josiah was already pushing him down into the chair.

"That's what they all say," she told him, wheeling him off. "Don't you worry now, we'll take real good care of you."

"Dad?" JD called plaintively.

Josiah grinned and followed after the pair.

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

Monday, 1330 Hours

In one of the many crowded waiting rooms, Chris sat, watching as Buck and Nathan left, following Dobson and Flores. Neal was still up on the sixth floor, and he'd know when the man came back down since he'd see him exit the elevator from where he sat.

And by now Josiah should have gotten JD admitted to urology.

His cell phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. "Yeah?"

"Any progress?" Travis asked him.

"A little," he said. "JD was able to hack into the hospital's computer while we waited for Josiah's chemical cocktail to take effect. Vin made it through the surgery, but he's still listed as critical. Worst thing listed for Ezra was a broken arm."

"Good, good… I've been working a little myself," Travis told him. "I've been checking up on Tim Neal. He's career intelligence. Before making the move to the NSC, he spent twelve years at the FBI, ten in the CIA. He's got a spotless record. Man even pays his parking tickets. You're up against one of the best."

"Yeah? Tell me something I don't know," Larabee grumbled.

"One thing did make me a little curious – Neal's made thirteen trips to Norman, Oklahoma in the last ten months."

"I'm guessing it wasn't to see his mistress," Larabee replied dryly.

"No, she's in California," Travis said with a chuckle.

"What the hell's in Norman, Oklahoma?"

"Nothing much… except for the headquarters of TransPacific Oil."

"We already know TransPacific has a boatload of government contracts. Maybe Neal's overseeing some of the negotiations."

"That was my first thought, too," Travis said. "But none of the trips were for business. He paid for each and every one of them himself."

"So… what? You think Neal is brokering the chemical weapons deal for TransPacific?"

"Well, it would explain his up close and personal attention to the break-in, as well as his trips to Oklahoma, but we simply don't have any proof."

"Not yet," Larabee said. "My people have been shadowing two of Neal's agents – Dobson, male, and Flores, female. See what you can find me on them. They've been meeting with a couple of Africans, or African-Americans, at various places around the city. Neal's been spending his time up on the prison ward."

"No doubt trying to determine who's on to his game."

"Yeah," Larabee admitted. "Which probably means Ezra, since I doubt Vin's in any condition to be questioned. They won't say anything. They'll know we're trying to find a way to get them out, but Nathan says we have to wait until they upgrade Vin to stable before we can do anything."

"I understand," Travis said. "I'll see what we can find on Dobson and Flores. Good luck, Chris."

"Thanks," he replied and ended the call. He sank back in his chair, wishing he could find out more about what was happening with Vin. He wanted to see the man for himself, because right now all he could see were the images of the man when they had rushed him into the ER – pale, still…

Christ, he didn't really know for sure if Tanner was still alive. Critical could turn to dead all too easily. And he didn't have JD to hack the computer again.

He sighed heavily and scrubbed his hand over his face. He'd let this happen. He was responsible for Tanner's injuries, maybe even for his death.

He sighed again and shook his head. Just hang in there, Vin, he said silently. Hang in there… I love you, too… You do know that, right?

By God, you better know that.

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

Monday, 1500 Hours

Neal was indeed in Ezra's room.

"Just give me one name, that's all. Just give me the name of one of the others involved…" he said, trailing off as he walked around Standish's bed. "…and we'll call it a day."

Ezra stared straight ahead, ignoring the man. These little chats were getting tedious, coming at irregular intervals across the day. It was a standard interrogation technique, he knew that, but this time his wrists had been secured with Velcro restraints, one of them wrapped around the outside of his cast. His broken arm was throbbing painfully.

"Well, that's too bad… for you," Neal said. "You know, your buddy down the hall has been talking up a storm."

Ezra felt his heart lurch. So, Vin was alive! That was something new, and he could tell Neal was sorry he'd said anything. Because Ezra knew, with absolute certainty, that Vin Tanner wouldn't talk. But Neal must have tried, and that, given what Vin's condition must be, infuriated the undercover man and steeled his resolve to resist anything the bastard might throw at him.

"There's no reason for you to take the fall all by yourself, you know," Neal continued, but Standish only stared straight ahead. Neal turned to look at Flores. "Give him the maximum dose," he instructed the agent.

The woman turned from whatever she was doing, a syringe in her hand. A moment later she was at Ezra's bedside.

"No!" Standish yelped as she poked the needle into his arm.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt you," Neal told him. "It'll just help you to tell the truth." He watched as the fast-acting drug began to take effect. "Take it easy," he said soothingly. "Everything's going to be all right." When Ezra sagged back against his pillows, Neal grinned. "That's right… just go with the flow."

To Ezra it seemed as if all the pain that had been plaguing him had suddenly stopped, and he was floating on some invisible cloud. His vision blurred and it reminded him of what it looked like when a jet flew into a cloud, the windows filling with fuzzy white wisps, obscuring his view of the ground far below.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the relief. Neal had refused to allow the hospital staff to give him any pain medication, so he had been in constant agony since the morphine had worn off last night… or had that been early this morning? He wasn't sure. Time didn't seem to have much meaning to him right now.

"Now," he heard a voice say, "let's take it from the top…"

Top? Ezra wondered. Top of what? Oh, yes… he had fallen… fallen from the top of… something. At least he thought he had. He had fallen, hadn't he?

And there was something else, too… Oh, yes, gunshots.

Yes, that was it. Someone had been shooting at him… And at Vin.

He frowned slightly.

"What's your name?"

Name? No, he didn't want to tell anyone his name. That was dangerous, too dangerous. He was undercover. He couldn't tell them his name…

Wasn't he undercover? He shook his head, trying to ignore the voice as he concentrated on Vin. Where was Vin?

Vin had been shot, yes? He'd been hurt, badly, if the words he remembered the man saying weren't a figment of his imagination.

"I love y', Cowboy."

Simple words, really, but the feelings behind them anything but…

"You've been through one hell of an ordeal…"

Yes… Yes, he had been… And Vin as well. But he wasn't concerned with his own ordeal at the moment, he was worried about Vin. The long-haired Texan had somehow gotten under his skin… past his defenses. How had he let that happen? he wondered.

Chris must be wondering the very same thing. But then they had all seen the positive affect Vin had had on Chris, and vice versa.

He could easily envy Chris his relationship with Vin, and he suspected that Josiah might very well feel the same.

Vin…

Vin… there was something about Vin… something special. And… something else.

Was Vin in danger? In trouble?

"…and I especially don't want you to take the fall alone for this one," the voice was saying.

Fall? Yes, he had fallen. Hadn't they already determined that? He had fallen from a… a tank of some kind. Yes, he had fallen from a tank, but before he'd fallen he'd seen… something… something that had happened to Vin…

He'd been shot! Yes, he was sure of it. He was positive he'd seen Vin get shot!

Poor Chris, he must be frantic…

My God, was Vin all right? Where was he? Where were the others? Why weren't they here so they could tell him what had happened to Vin?

Had they been shot as well?

Oh Lord, were they all dead? Was he alone again?

Not that he should really care about the sniper, or about the others for that matter. He knew that, he really did, but he did care. Damn it all, he cared about the sniper, and the other men, he really did.

How had he let that happen again?

Vin was his friend. Yes, a dear friend, nearly a brother. They were all his friends, his brothers… his chosen family. And he'd spent far too many years without any friends, any real family. Too many years…

But he had friends now… six of them. Six brothers… who cared about him, and he cared about them…

But Vin loved Chris, and Chris loved him back. Lucky bastard… He could easily imagine what it might be like, to love Vin… to make love to him…

No. No, that was dangerous, too dangerous. What was he thinking? He had to deny those feelings, lock them safely away. What if Chris or Vin found out how he felt?

"Deny…" he muttered to himself.

"Forget about deniability," the voice urged him. "The rules don't apply here."

Rules? What rules? He had always played by his own rules… Well, until recently… Until he'd joined Team Seven. There were rules to be followed. He didn't poach another man's lover.

He played by the rules they had made together… he and his friends, his brothers… And Chris and Vin didn't need to know how he felt…

But he wasn't alone. He was almost positive that Josiah felt much the same way he did. No, he wasn't alone. Perhaps he ought to talk to Josiah about his feelings…

"I know you didn't do that alone," the distant voice snarled.

Alone? Oh God, was he alone? They couldn't all be dead, could they? He couldn't be alone again. Not again. He had hated being alone. They couldn't have left him out here alone… surely not…

But he had seen Vin go down. He had to help him… help Vin…

"Help," he gasped softly. They had to help Vin. He had to help him. Vin had been the first to accept him, to trust him… They were so different, and yet they shared something, something deep inside their souls… scars… Was that why he loved the man?

"Help yourself," the voice was telling him, but he didn't want to, he wanted to help Vin. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison, do you?"

"No," he breathed out with a shudder. This was taking too long. He wanted it to be over so he could see about finding Vin… helping him…

Could he do it alone?

He would have to. He was alone. They weren't here because they were all dead. Vin… Chris… Josiah… Nathan… Buck… JD… they were all gone, all dead. If they weren't, they would be here. Wouldn't they?

"Being truthful here won't hurt you," the voice promised.

But Ezra knew that was a lie. The truth was often painful… so painful… like knowing his friends were dead… It made his heart hurt, so badly… so very badly…

God, he couldn't believe it. Not Vin… The man seemed invincible… And he'd survived so much… And if Vin were dead, then Chris surely was as well. Poor Chris, he loved Vin so much… Poor Vin, gone so soon… Poor Chris…

"Chris…" he breathed.

"Chris? Who's Chris?" the voice asked.

That frightened him and Ezra jerked his eyes open. The reality of what was happening struck the undercover man like a cold slap to the face. He blinked, vision returning. He saw Neal at the foot of his bed, his expression angry.

"Give him another shot," the man snarled.

"Another dose this soon could kill him," Flores said.

"I need him to talk," Neal growled at the woman.

"And if he dies?"

"As long as he talks first, I don't care! This is a hospital, for crying out loud, people die here all the time!"

"From a broken arm?" she questioned.

The door was pushed open and Dobson leaned in, asking, "Can I speak to you?" from the doorway.

"Not now," Neal snapped.

"It's important," the man added.

Neal glanced at Ezra, but then he sighed and headed for the door. "We'll try again when I get back," he told Flores. Once out in the hallway he snapped, "What's so important it couldn't wait?"

Dobson dropped his voice, saying, "I thought you'd want to know that everything has arrived safely at the destination."

"Well, that's the best news I've heard all day." Neal smiled. At least the sale was going smoothly. Hell, something should!

"The meeting, it is on?" Dobson asked him. "Awanda wants to take delivery ASAP. He's feeling a little nervous."

"Yeah. Three o'clock. I'll meet with Awanda myself, hold his hand for a few minutes. He'll settle down."

"Well, at least it sounds as if everything is back on schedule," Dobson said with a relieved sigh.

"Maybe, but we still don't know who's trying to peek up our skirts," Neal told him. "Anything from their fingerprints?"

"Nothing so far."

"Hmm… It looks like we've snagged us a pair of genuine black ops. Now, the question is, whose?" He paused and thought for a moment, then added, "I want you to arrange for a transfer. I want these people transferred to the hospital at Fort Carson. That'll give us the freedom we need to make these people talk."

Dobson nodded. "I'll take care of it." He left.

Neal watched him go. Yes, it would be much easier once they got them out of the hospital. He smiled – a predatory expression if ever there was one. It was almost over. He would find out who was sniffing around his business and then he'd remove them – permanently.

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

Monday, 1510 Hours

The nurse wheeled JD, now dressed in a short blue hospital gown and nothing else, up to the bank of elevators. The guard smiled at her as they approached.

"Hey, Mazie," he greeted her.

"I'm taking this boy up to urology," she said as JD fiddled with the plastic ID bracelet that had been placed around his wrist.

"Sure," the guard said, nodding. She leaned past him and pressed the call button.

A few seconds later, the bell dinged and the doors slid open. She wheeled JD inside the car and turned him around so he was facing the doors as they slid shut. The car started up again, coming to a stop on the sixth floor. When the doors opened, she wheeled him past a pair of glass double doors marked "prison ward," with a large security guard standing watch, and straight to a second pair of glass doors just a short ways down the hall that were marked "Urology."

"Now, I'll be back in a minute. You just sit there and relax, I'll be right back," she told him.

"How relaxed would you be if you'd just got scoped? I'm still numb down there!" he sassed.

"Don't you fret now; the anesthesia will wear off in an hour or so."

"That's what you said an hour ago," he grouched.

She shook her head, grinning, as she left him sitting there.

He waited until she was out of sight, then got up out of the wheelchair and walked over to the glass doors of the urology department. When he saw that there were several other nurses and technicians in the hallway, along with other patients, he pushed the door open and walked out. He punched the elevator button and waited until it opened, then stepped in along with several other people.

He saw a nurse who had been in the urology lab use her card key, running it through a reader, before punching a button marked "prison ward." The rear doors of the elevator opened and she stepped out, using the card again at a door to enter the ward. And there was no guard.

"Hey, how about some blush for those cheeks?" another nurse asked him.

It took him a second, but then he realized what she meant. His hand flew back and he grabbed the open sides of his hospital gown, pulling them closed over his bare butt. His face burned with embarrassment and he turned to her to apologize, but someone grabbed his arms and jerked him out of the elevator car.

"What in blue blazes are you doing out here?" the older Black nurse demanded.

"I was… was… stretching my legs," he said indignantly.

"I knew you'd chicken out," she said, shaking her head. "Come on, now. Your father's waiting to see you in your room."

When they reached the room he'd been assigned, Josiah was waiting for him, just like she'd said he was. The older man didn't say anything until the nurse had JD settled in the bed, then thanked her for all her help. When she was gone, he asked the younger agent, "So, what were you able to find out?"

"When you come up in the elevators to the sixth floor, there's a security guard on the door to the prison ward. But, if you have a card key, you can enter the ward through the rear elevator doors in urology – and no guard from what I could see," he said. "We just need to get our hands on one of the card keys."

Josiah nodded. "Nice job, son."

"I'm not your son," JD snapped, suddenly glaring at the older man. "Do you know how big those scopes are?" he demanded. "That was not in my job description!"

"But you got a look at the prison ward, and that's the important thing. We're all called on to make sacrifices, JD."

"Yeah, right," the younger man said acerbically. "Oh! I have something else. When I was in the elevator, I heard a couple of the nurses talking, including the one I saw use her card key to get onto the prison ward. They're planning to go out tonight, to a sports bar that's just around the corner from the hospital. The Dugout, they called it."

"What did the nurse look like?" Josiah asked him.

"Nice… Tallish, reddish-brown hair, cut kinda short. She was wearing a blue scrub shirt that has little white kittens all over it."

Josiah nodded. "I'll pass that along to Buck. I'm sure he can find a way to… borrow her card key."

JD grinned, but then his expression turned serious. "Have you heard anything about how they're doing?"

Josiah shook his head.

"Man," JD said on a heavy sigh.

"Yeah," Josiah agreed, knowing that this must be hell on Chris. It was hard for all of them, but given the man's relationship with Vin… He wondered if any of the others had figured out their relationship before Vin's comment. Obviously JD hadn't, but the others might have. He doubted it would be an issue for any of them, except maybe Buck. He'd known Chris before, when he'd been with Sarah, and the man was a heterosexual, through and through. He wasn't sure Buck would be able to envision Chris in a relationship with a man, but then the ladies' man had been known to surprise him.

And Ezra… He was almost certain that Ezra had feelings for Vin, although he wasn't sure they were romantic, at least not in the same was as it was with Chris and Vin, but they were deep, powerful feelings nonetheless. And he sympathized. He had feelings for Vin as well.

He didn't understand them, not completely, and he tried not to think about them too often, because he'd been watching the relationship between Chris and Vin develop since the two men had met, but there was just something about the sniper that drew him…

Now they just had to get the men out of here, get them to safety so they could heal. The rest could wait.

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

Monday, 1640 Hours

Neal left the hospital and climbed into the back of a waiting sedan that drove off as soon as his door was closed.

Chris jogged across the street and climbed in behind the wheel of the Suburban. He watched the car for a moment, then started the engine and pulled out to follow it.

He tailed the sedan through the city, being careful not to get too close. The trip was relatively short, however, the car pulling over to the curb near a large public library. Neal climbed out and headed straight over to a large open area that was landscaped with various varieties of cacti. Several people sat on benches under large umbrellas, reading. A few children played in a covered playground, as well.

Larabee stayed where he was, watching Neal until a handsome Black man arrived and joined the NSC agent. Then, using one of the cameras from the back of their mobile command and control center, he snapped several pictures of Neal and the Black man as they spoke and then shook hands before sitting down under on the umbrellas. He stuck the camera out of sight and climbed out, making his way over to one of the many benches, and sat down. He checked his watch and glanced around as if he was supposed to be meeting someone.

"So, the delivery is on schedule?" Chris heard the Black man ask. His voice was heavily accented and Larabee guessed he was an African.

"Yeah. Make sure everything's ready on your end. I'll be ready to fill your order in a couple of days."

"It will be," the man assured Neal. Then they shook hands again and each man walked off in opposite directions.

Chris stood and was about to follow Neal when his cell phone rang. He fished it out and answered it. "Yeah?"

"Hey, stud, listen, Josiah and JD came up with some info we can use. We think we know how to get onto the prison ward, but Nathan and I are gonna have to go out for a drink to pull it off. Dobson and Flores have been hanging out in the cafeteria since Neal took off."

"Don't take too long," he said.

"We'll be back as fast as we can," Buck assured the man. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah."

"Bullshit. Chris, listen… I knew about you and Vin, but I thought I should keep my mouth shut until you guys finally said something."

"And?"

"And I'm fine with it. He's the best thing that's happened to you since Sarah… He's going to make it."

"Hope you're right."

"I am. That boy… He's something special, and what the two of you have, well, let's just say it reminds me of the good old days…"

"Thanks, stud."

"Hang in there, we'll get them out and he'll be fine, you'll see."

Chris returned the cell phone to his pocket and headed back to the SUV. Maybe Travis could ID the man Neal had met for them. He hoped so. It was a good bet that the guy was the same one who would have bought the chemical weapon from Neal.

As he drove back toward the hospital, he hoped again that Vin and Ezra were doing all right. After what JD had been able to find out on Ezra, he wasn't too worried about the man. None of the injuries listed had been major or life-threatening. In fact, if he weren't being held on the prison ward, he would have probably been discharged by now, according to Nathan.

Vin, however, was another matter. Pulse is almost nonexistent… He shook with a chill that raced down his spine.

He knew Vin was in a bad way and, more than anything, he wanted to be there for him, to be there with him, but that was impossible. All he could do at the moment was make sure Neal paid for what had happened to him and to Ezra, and by God, the man would pay – one way or another.

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

Vin lay in his bed, trying to sleep. He was still running a fever, although it wasn't as high as it had been just after his surgery. But it was high enough that there wasn't a single position he felt comfortable in. He heard the doctor enter the room and cracked his eyes open.

"Hey," she greeted him, "how are you feeling?"

"Had better days," he told her honestly. "Had a few worse, too."

"Well, I brought you a pill to help ease the pain," she told him.

She partially filled a plastic cup with water and then stepped up to his bedside. Holding a small plastic cup with a single white pill in it to his lips, she tilted it so the pill fell into his mouth as soon as he opened it. Then she pressed the cup of water to his lips and raised his head so he could take a couple of swallows.

"Good," she told him.

"Haven't had such a pretty doctor since I's a little boy," he told her, his words slightly slurred from the constant dose of pain medication being delivered to his blood system through his IV. "I's ten years old… got thrown from m' granddaddy's mare. He kept tellin' me, 'Boy, yer too little t' ride that thing.' But I's just too stubborn 'n' bullheaded t' listen t' 'im…"

She laughed softly.

"Broke both m' legs," he admitted, a slightly proud, slightly sheepish grin on his face.

She winced in sympathy and shook her head. "Yeah, I've been riding since I was ten. As a matter of fact, when I got divorced, he kept the house and I kept the horse."

"Divorced, huh?" he said softly. "That's a tough one, ain't it?"

"Yeah, well, I think we were probably a little too young when we got married. He wasn't quite through shopping around yet."

"Just didn't know what he had," Vin told her.

"How about you, you married?" she asked him.

"No, ma'am… not in the 'ficial way."

"Partner?" she asked.

He hesitated, and then responded, "Can't really say."

"I understand," she replied, making a notation on his chart and then hanging it back on the end of his bed. "You know, the rumor on the ward is you're some kind of spy." She paused, looking down at him. "But I don't know… I have a gut feeling you're one of the good guys."

"M' gut tells me y' are, too."

She smiled at him and then turned to go so he could get some more rest, but she paused in the doorway and looked back at him. "Would it hurt if I knew your name?"

"Less y' know 'bout me, the better," he told her sadly.

"That's a real shame," she said. "I can be a pretty good friend."

"Yes, ma'am, it is, 'cause 'm sure yer right 'bout that… Got a feelin' I might be needin' one, too…"

She nodded, then turned and left, but she knew she was right about that gut feeling, and when he needed her, she planned to be there for him.

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

The Dugout

1845 Hours

Buck and Nathan sat at the bar in the Dugout, watching the gathering crowd made up mostly of people from the hospital. Some of the patrons sat at tables, drinking,; others were playing pool, or dancing on the small dance floor. And, in three of the corners, large-screen televisions were playing different sporting events – baseball, basketball and a NASCAR race – while fans watched in padded chairs, cheering and enjoying their food and drinks.

They each had a beer that they were sipping while they waited for the nurse JD had seen to arrive.

Nathan looked over at the ladies' man and asked, "Did you know?"

Buck nodded.

"I was starting to wonder, but I just couldn't believe it."

"It a problem for you?" Buck asked him.

Nathan looked up, meeting his eyes. "No. It's not a problem."

Buck gave the man a grin. "Just had to be sure… Figure it's a good thing. Sure has been good for Chris."

"Vin, too," Nathan said, a small smile on his lips.

"Yeah, Vin, too." Buck took a sip, then asked, "You really think he'll be all right?"

The Black man shrugged. "I hope so, but… Wish we could talk to his doctor."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Wish Chris could get in there to see him."

Jackson nodded. "Not likely, though. He's gotta know we're all out here, trying to get him and Ezra out of there."

"I'm sure he does."

"Hey, take a look," Nathan said when he spotted a tallish, auburn-haired nurse with white kittens on her blue scrubs.

The ladies' man smiled when he saw the woman. "Okay, call Chris, have him come over…"

Nathan nodded and made the call.

They watched her as she walked over and took a seat at a table with three other women. After the women had shared a couple of margaritas, Buck slid off his stool and headed over to them, calling, "LeAnn! Hey, long time, no see! How's it goin', darlin'?"

Nathan got up as soon as Buck had the women's attention and moved a little farther down the bar, sliding onto a chair behind the auburn-haired woman and the friend sitting next to her.

The redhead looked up at Buck, confused. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The ladies' man dipped his head and looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said, giving her a slightly chagrined grimace, "I thought you were someone I knew. That I'd gone to medical school with. I thought we used to dissect cadavers."

She laughed, her gaze sweeping over him. "You're a doctor?" she asked him, her expression one of total disbelief, but welcoming nonetheless.

"Yeah, sure," he said, grinning.

"Really? Which department?"

"Neurology," he responded seriously, but he was still grinning.

"Oh," she replied, exchanging glances with her girlfriends. "I thought I knew everyone in that department…"

"Well, darlin', I'm new," Buck told her as Nathan carefully used his foot to slide the woman's purse over to him along the floor.

"I just transferred, in fact," he said, "from Denver. Doctor Frank Burns, at your service. And you are?"

"Sally," she replied, still not sure if she believed him or not.

Buck looked at the pretty blonde sitting next to Sally and asked, "And you are?"

"Jill," the woman replied, offering Buck her hand, which he didn't shake, but instead took in his, brushing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Jill, it's nice to meet you." He looked to the other two women.

"Darlene," one of them, a striking African-American, said.

"Cathy," replied the other. She was Korean.

"Look, Frank," Sally said, "it's my birthday, so—"

"Your birthday?" he asked her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and yelling, "Hey, everybody! It's Sally's birthday today!"

A cheer went up from the crowd and she blushed, but still smiled at him, enjoying the attention. Nathan took the opportunity to reach over and check the purse quickly for the card key, which he found and slipped into his pocket as Buck burst loudly into song.

"Mustang Sally!" he belted out, his voice a rich low tenor. "You better slow that mustang down…"

The young woman laughed, blushing more but still enjoying his flirtatious attention. A few of the other patrons picked up on the song and, a few moments later, it was playing loudly on the jukebox.

Buck pulled Sally and Jill off their seats, dancing with both women at the same time. Nathan slid the purse back over to Sally's chair as he stood and asked Darlene if she'd like to dance as well.

She agreed and they moved off to the dance floor. Buck saw Cathy sitting alone and hollered for her to join them, which she did, the big man doing his best to dance with all three ladies at the same time and succeeding better than Nathan expected. It was a gift.

After the dance, Nathan excused himself and headed outside to where Chris was waiting for them. He handed the man the card key.

"Think you and Buck can keep the ladies occupied until I get back?"

"We'll give it our best shot. Be careful."

Larabee nodded and started to the Suburban. He planned to be careful, but he also planned to find a way to get his people out of that hospital, and the sooner the better. If he could just see Vin, assure himself that the man was alive and on the mend, he'd feel better.

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

Several minutes later, and dressed in a white lab coat he'd found lying draped over the back of a chair in the doctors' lounge, Chris headed for the elevators that would take him to the sixth floor. He draped the stethoscope he found in the coat pocket around his neck.

The guard didn't give him a second glance as he walked up to the elevators and pressed the up button.

A few moments later the bell rang and the doors slid open. Chris stepped inside, pressed the button for the sixth floor and rode it up. When it stopped, he exited, walked down to urology, and entered. Just inside the glass doors were the public elevators. He pressed the call button and when an elevator arrived, he stepped in. He ran the borrowed card key though the reader built into the elevator panel and pressed the button marked "prison ward." The rear doors slid open and he stepped out.

Reaching another door, this one unmanned, he used the card key to open it and stepped onto the prison ward without hesitation.

He slowed when he saw Neal speaking to a woman not far away, and stopped when he reached a bulletin board on a wall not far from a central nurses' station, his gaze roaming over the various items hanging there as he listened to the conversation taking place between Neal and the woman.

"In my professional opinion it's way too soon to be moving him," she told Neal, her hands on her hips, her stance and tone defiant.

"Look, these are professional intelligence operatives. They need to be in a secure facility," Neal replied, clearly already frustrated by the woman's interference.

"There's plenty of security right here," she responded.

"That's your opinion, Dr. Emery," he returned, "not mine. I want complete copies of their medical records transferred to Fort Carson."

"The only reason you want to move them to a government facility is so you can play tough and get away with it," she argued with him.

"I don't like what you're insinuating, Doctor," he told her, glancing over at Chris, who had moved closer and was now standing by the nurses' station.

Larabee picked up a chart and started making notes on it.

"I'm responsible for the welfare of my patients," she told Neal, glancing from the NSC man to Chris and back again.

"According to this court order, Doctor, as of tomorrow morning they are no longer your patients," Neal told her, holding up the paperwork for her to see. Chris looked over as well. "We'll move out at nine a.m. There a problem, Doctor?" he called to Larabee.

"No," he said, "no problem." He shifted his gaze from Neal to Dr. Emory. He could tell that she didn't recognize him, but Neal was looking at him, not her, so he didn't see her reaction. "I have everything I need," he concluded and turned away.

He headed straight back to the elevators, letting a nurse step in first when the doors opened.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded at her. Tomorrow morning… 9 a.m. That's how long they had to come up with a way to get Vin and Ezra out of the hospital, and they'd do it, too, even if they had to stay up all night. There was no way he was letting Neal get hold of them.

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

Monday, 2115 Hours

Chris left the hospital, heading straight to the parking lot and the waiting SUV. He drove back to the Dugout, parked and walked in. Buck and Nathan looked like they were having a good time with the four nurses. He walked over to the bar and sat down, reaching into his pocket and palming the card key. After ordering a beer, he turned around on the barstool, watching the revelers for a few minutes as he sipped on his beer.

As he sat there, Nathan excused himself and came over, ordering a round of drinks for them all. He leaned against the bar next to Chris as he waited, saying softly, "Dark blue purse at the pool table to the right behind you."

Larabee gave him a small nod.

When the bartender returned with the drinks, Nathan took them and headed back to the others, who were now crowded around the pool table.

Larabee finished his beer, then stood and headed back for the restroom, pretending to trip over Sally's bag on his way.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized, reaching down to right the bag and dropping the card key into it at the same time.

"No problem," she told him.

"Man, look at the time," Nathan said, after checking his watch. "I've got to get back for surgery."

"Oh, do you have to?" Darlene asked him, her gaze imploring.

"Sorry. Maybe I'll catch you here again," he told her with a grin, fishing into his wallet for two twenties which he handed her. "To cover the tab," he said, then headed for the door.

Buck remained with the ladies, waiting while Chris ducked into the restroom.

"So, Dr. Burns, do you want to come over to my place and… play doctor?" Sally whispered in Wilmington's ear. "I know a very naughty nurse…"

He grinned at her, wishing he could take her up on the offer, but he knew Nathan and Chris would be waiting for him outside. "Naughty, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm," she replied. "Very, very naughty. In fact, I think you might have to give her a spanking."

Buck swallowed hard, seeing Larabee headed out of the bar. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You don't know how hard this is, darlin', but I'll have to take a rain check." And with that he slid off the stool and headed for the door.

Outside, he found Chris and Nathan waiting for him, just like he knew they would be. "This better be good; I just gave up a night with a very, very naughty nurse."

"They're moving Vin and Ezra to Fort Carson at nine tomorrow morning," Chris told him.

"Damn… That might just be the game," the ladies' man said with a frustrated sigh.

"No, we've got all night to find a way to get them out. Come on, we're going to go pay JD and Josiah a visit, see what we can all come up with."

Buck watched the man stride around the SUV and knew he had to be hurting. But he wasn't letting it interfere with what he needed to get done. He just hoped Neal and the other two agents didn't get in the way. The mood he was in, Larabee wouldn't hesitate to shoot them.

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

It took the five men the better part of the night, but they formulated a plan based on the bits and pieces of information they had each managed to pick up while hanging around the hospital, or from the nurses at the bar.

And a brief visit by Josiah to the records room – carrying the box of tools from the Suburban and with a story about a leak in the urology department – was enough to get them a copy of the hospital blueprints to help them fine-tune the details.

By five the following morning they were good to go.

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

Tuesday, 0600 Hours

Dr. Emory walked into Ezra's room just as Agent Flores was lifting the lid of her patient's breakfast tray. "Just checking," the female agent said.

"Oh, good, I'm glad to see you're finally eating something," Emory said as Ezra reached out and picked up the plastic cup filled with what was supposed to be coffee. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip, then grimaced.

The doctor took the chart from the foot of the bed, saying, "I have to fax your records to Fort Carson."

"Fort Carson?" Ezra questioned, ignoring the smug expression on Agent Flores' face when he spoke for the first time, southern accent and all.

"You're being transferred in three hours," the doctor added on her way out the door.

Cold fear squeezed Standish's heart and he suddenly felt nauseous. If the people holding him and Vin managed to transfer them to a government facility, there would be no hope of escape, or rescue. He could not allow that to happen.

Ezra waited for a moment, then, when Flores' attention wandered slightly, he tossed the hot coffee straight into the agent's face.

The woman cried out, her hands coming up to her eyes.

Ezra was out of the bed in an instant, ignoring the pain throbbing through his body. He grabbed the woman's gun from her holster and struck her, sending her crashing to the floor, unconscious. He didn't feel the least bit of remorse, either.

He stepped into the hallway, yelling, "Get back! Everybody back!"

Doctors, nurses, and orderlies quickly scrambled to get out of his way while the security guards and police moved in.

Dr. Emory turned, only to find Ezra standing there with a gun pointed at her. "Where's my friend?" he demanded, flashing green eyes pinning her.

"Whoa, easy, take it easy," she said. "I want you to put the gun down," she continued, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Give me the room number!" he snapped at the physician.

"Okay, it's 312. Now, put the gun down."

Neal and Dobson rounded the corner and walked up behind the doctor, Dobson drawing his gun and pointing it at Standish. "Put the gun down!" he bellowed.

Ezra held his ground, but he knew if he fired on the agent, the security guard standing across the hall from him would probably kill him. But he couldn't put the gun down, either. He had to find Vin. They had to get out of here. They couldn't allow themselves to be taken to an Army base.

But he hadn't thought this through very well, had he… Must be those damn drugs, he thought.

Then he saw the flash of panic cross the doctor's face and she yelled, "No!"

Ezra knew what was going to happen before he felt the blow, the butt of a pistol cracking against his skull a moment later. His last thought as he fell to the floor was that he had failed Vin, and Chris. He had failed his friends… his brothers…

"I think I told you he was a security risk," Neal said flatly, watching as Dr. Emory rushed to Ezra's side. Neal hoped the man wasn't dead. He still needed those names.

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

Tuesday, 0830 Hours

The dark blue Chevy Suburban backed into the receiving dock of the hospital. On both the driver- and passenger-side doors were signs that read "Springer Elevator Maintenance." Nathan sat behind the wheel, and he stayed there, Chris, Buck and Josiah getting out and heading into the building, each man carrying a tool box.

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

Tuesday, 0900 Hours

Neal stepped into Vin's room, saying, "Okay, Mr. Doe, we're checking out."

Two orderlies followed him in, pushing a gurney. They were followed by two Army MPs from Fort Carson. Dr. Emory was right behind the soldiers.

"What do you want, Doctor?" Neal asked her, clearly annoyed at seeing her there.

"Until he leaves this hospital, he's still my patient," she told him. "I want to be able to document that he was still breathing when he left here."

Neal shook his head. "Fine, whatever you need. Hurry up, guys," he told the orderlies. Then, to the MPs he said, "The medical transport is downstairs waiting. Ground floor."

Vin waited while the medical personnel unhooked him from the various pieces of equipment. His IVs were transferred to the pole on the gurney. He could feel his heart beginning to race. Where the hell were Chris and the others? Surely they weren't going to let this bastard take them to an Army post…

He ground his teeth together as he was lifted and transferred to the gurney, and silently cursed his own weakness. There was just no way he could put up more than a token resistance. He was still too weak and too well-medicated.

Chris wouldn't let this happen, he knew that. So they must have some kind of a plan to stop the transfer from happening, but what the hell could it be?

He closed his eyes, trying to fight back the darkness that was trying to wash over him. He had to stay awake. He had to be ready. Chris would get to him before this could happen. He trusted Chris, loved him, and Chris loved him, too. He would come for him.

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

In the basement of the hospital, the three men split up, Buck and Chris heading for the elevators, Josiah to the master controls for the elevator system.

"Looks like standard equipment, just like we thought," Sanchez announced over the lip mike he was wearing when he found the controls. "Are you guys in position yet?"

"In position and ready to ride," Chris announced. He was standing on the top of the elevator car he had called to the sub-basement.

"I'm on my way," Buck said, "be there before you know it."

Chris blew out a breath and waited. This had to work. He couldn't let them get out of the hospital with Ezra and Vin or they'd never get them back.

God, he had been so stupid, and his men were paying the price. And Vin was paying most of all. Why did he seem to end up hurting, killing the people he loved?

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

Ezra climbed out of bed when Dobson motioned for him to come. He was still wearing a pair of hospital gowns, one opening each way so his backside was covered. Stepping out into the hallway, he saw a gurney being wheeled out of another room not that far away. The man lying on it looked pale and weak, but at least he was still alive.

So close, Standish thought. He was so close and I never knew it.

Ezra met Tanner's eyes and he offered the man a thin smile that was, surprisingly, returned. It seemed to the undercover man like Tanner was trying to reassure him, but of what? That he was going to recover? That their friends wouldn't fail them? He hoped it was both and that Vin was right, but from where he stood right now, both appeared to be up for grabs.

They proceeded down the hallway to a pair of glass doors, which the orderlies opened. The security guard standing on the other side moved out of their way.

The orderlies wheeled Vin through the doors first, the MPs and Neal following. Dobson and Ezra came last. Standish glanced around, trying to find a way out of this, but there was nothing he could do, nothing he could use as a weapon. They were… alone.

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

"Showtime, brothers," Josiah announced when someone on the sixth floor pushed the down button for the private elevators. A moment later, the elevator car Chris was riding on began to climb.

Larabee took a couple of deep breaths, getting ready. They would only have one shot at this, and they couldn't fail. They wouldn't fail.

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

When the elevator arrived at the sixth floor, the orderlies pushed Vin's gurney inside, then stepped back. Ezra went in next, the two MPs escorting him in. Dr. Emory was the last to slip inside the car, turning, her brown eyes flashing at Neal and Dobson, who was about to step into the elevator as well.

The senior agent sighed. "Fine, Doctor, I'll take the next one," he growled, stabbing the down button.

One of the MPs pressed the button for the ground floor and the door slid shut. Ezra looked down at Vin, who seemed to understand that they were in trouble but, given the fact that he was still attached to a couple of IV's, there was very little he could do about it.

Dobson headed for the stairs and Neal waited for the next car, stepping into it when it arrived and pressing the button for the ground floor, silently cursing hard-headed doctors.

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

Chris felt the car shift as the elevator filled. Then, a few seconds later, they began to descend.

"On my mark," Josiah said into his ear piece. "Threee… two… one…" He flipped the appropriate switches and the car Chris was riding on came to an abrupt halt.

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

Inside the elevator, Vin's eyes opened when they came to a jerking halt. He grunted softly, but ignored the pain. This was it. Chris and the others had come for them at last.

He glanced at Ezra, who didn't seem as sure of that fact as he was, but he knew. He could feel Chris someplace close by. He could even feel the man's fear for him, for what they were trying to do.

It'll be all right, Cowboy, he thought. I knew ya'd come for me.

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

Bending down, Larabee silently pulled up the panel on the top of the elevator car. The first thing he saw was Vin, staring straight up at him. His heart lurched. Tanner looked terrible, but at least he was alive. But it was the calm assurance in the man's blue eyes that captured his attention. Somehow, Vin had known he was coming for him.

He gave the man a single nod, then, without hesitation, he shifted his attention and fired the dart gun he was holding, dropping both of the MPs.

"Oh my God!" Dr. Emory yelped, unsure what was happening. All she knew was that the two men in uniform were now lying on the floor of the elevator, apparently unconscious, or maybe dead.

Chris dropped down into the car.

"It's all right, Doctor, he's with us," Ezra told her, some of the color returning to his face.

"Bravo Five, I'm in," Larabee said into his lip mike, turning around to get a better look at Vin. "How are you doing?" he asked the man, reaching out to cup the side of his face.

"The doc here put me back t'gether pretty good," the sniper rasped. "Be good as new b'fore y' know it."

"You are going down," Josiah said and, a moment later, they were moving again.

"You," the doctor said as Chris handed Vin the dart gun. "Last night… on the ward?"

"Yeah, that was me," Chris acknowledged. "Is he really going to be all right?"

She nodded. "If he gets to another hospital – quickly. We haven't quite gotten the infection under control. He's not up to a long… rescue."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Doc," Vin told her. "I'm gonna be just fine now."

Seeing the looks the two men exchanged, she knew he was right.

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

At the bank of elevators on the ground floor, Dobson and two more MPs saw the car they were waiting for bypass their floor and continue on.

"What the hell?" the agent muttered. Then he realized what must be happening. "Get down to the basement!" he barked at the men.

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

When they reached the sub-basement, the elevator door opened and Chris and Dr. Emory rolled the gurney out.

"Where are you taking them?" the doctor asked him.

"Somewhere they'll be safe. You don't need to know anything more than that," Larabee told her, hurrying them to the waiting Suburban. Looking up at her, he said, "Call J. Watson's, in Denver – it's a bar. Ask for information on Sharpshooter in a few days."

She nodded, mentally repeating the name and city.

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

The second elevator arrived at the ground floor and Neal stepped out, looking around and not seeing his prisoners, his MPs or his agent.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded, throwing up his hands in frustration.

He jabbed the button to the elevators and the second car's door slid open, revealing the two unconscious soldiers.

"What the hell?" Neal snapped, then he was bolting for the stairs.

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

"Again!" Dobson yelled.

The MPs threw themselves at the doors. But Buck had gotten to them first and they were chained shut on the wrong side, making it impossible for the men to break them open.

After several attempts to force the doors, the MPs and Dobson rushed back down the hallway to a second set of stairs. But Buck had been there, too, and they were also chained shut.

"Damn it!" Dobson yelled, kicking the wall just as Neal arrived.

"What the fuck happened?"

Dobson turned, shaking his head. "How the hell should I know?" he bellowed at his boss.

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

Chris and the doctor wheeled the gurney up to the waiting Suburban.

Buck was already there, opening the rear doors as Josiah hurried up to join them as well. The ladies' man looked down at Vin, then up at Ezra and said, "Good to see you boys again," then he hurried around and climbed into the front passenger seat.

Chris and Ezra climbed into the back of the SUV, one on either side, so they could help to pull the gurney in, Josiah and the doctor doing most of the work to push it in.

"Easy, easy, easy," Larabee said as Vin was jostled slightly on the way in, prompting a pain-filled grunt from the injured man.

It was a tight fit, but Vin made it into the open space at the center of the large vehicle.

The doctor looked down at him. "I'm really worried about you," she told him.

"Don't worry about me, Doc, I'll be fine," he reassured her. "'Sides, I ain't ready t' die just yet."

"Well, maybe one day you can, uh, explain all this to me?" she asked him.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but they need to go," Josiah said, slipping his arm around her shoulders and starting to pull her away.

She looked down at Vin once more, then handed Chris the folder she was holding. "You'll need these. It's their medical records."

"Thank you," he told her.

Josiah closed the rear doors of the SUV, calling to Nathan, "Get them out of here, brother!"

Emory and Josiah watched as the Suburban pulled away, disappearing around the corner.

"Will they be all right?" she asked him.

"God willing," he replied. Then he offered her a smile and asked, "Think you could help me spring one more patient?"

Her eyebrows rose.

"It seems my wayward 'son' is up on the urology ward…"

She smiled. "I see. Well, I'd be happy to help," she said, "on one condition."

"And what would that be?" he asked her.

"Tell me his name?"

Josiah smiled at her. "Bond. James Bond."

She laughed. "Okay, I guess I deserved that. All right, come on."

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

Phoenix Amtrac Station

Wednesday, 0800 Hours

Agents Dobson and Flores were waiting for the train when they were surrounded by federal agents and taken into custody.

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

Washington, D.C.

Thursday, 0900 Hours

Neal stepped out of his apartment only to be met by several ATF agents who placed him under arrest. He tried to bluster his way out of it, but the agents were having none of it.

"Don't you know who I am?" Neal demanded.

"Yes, sir," one of the female agents replied, "that's why we're placing you under arrest."

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

Summit Hospital

Denver, Colorado

Monday, 1600 Hours

Chris pushed the wheelchair Vin was riding in. The rest of Team Seven followed along behind, including Ezra, who had been checked over and released from medical care the day after their rescue.

He and the others had been surprised to find that Travis had a charter plane waiting for them at the Phoenix airport, complete with a medical team who took charge of himself and of Vin as soon as they were on board.

The flight was a blur for Standish and, the undercover agent suspected, to Vin as well. They had both been given pain medication and had woken up next in the hospital in Denver. And, while Ezra had been released the following day, the doctors had kept Vin for five days, refusing to let him go home until this afternoon. And only then because Chris had promised that he'd take Vin straight home, and keep him there for the next several days.

Ezra suspected that was because Larabee wanted to make his apologies to Vin in private. Chris had already made his peace with Standish, although the undercover man didn't believe Larabee had anything to apologize for. But the man took responsibility for his people, and Ezra could only accept that and respect it.

"How's the arm, Ez?" Tanner asked, looking up at the undercover man.

Standish smiled. God, it was good to hear the man's voice sounding stronger at last. "Two more weeks and this infernal cast will come off."

"How long before you're up and round, Vin?" JD asked.

"I don't know," he grumbled. "Damn doctors get worried over every little thing."

"Let's just say that he's going to be out of commission for a while," Chris summed up for him. "Besides, Travis wants us to lay low for a couple of weeks, let this whole thing go away. A few too many people are asking too many questions."

"What kind of people?" Buck asked suspiciously.

"The good-looking doctor, for one," Chris said, reaching down to tousle Tanner's hair. The sniper ducked his head, but he didn't really try to get away.

"Now that's a lady I wouldn't mind getting to know better," Buck said, sighing dramatically, his hand pressed over his heart.

"I thought you were sweet on naughty Sally," Nathan said, grinning.

"Don't worry, brother," Josiah told Vin, "Dr. Emory doesn't have any plans to move to Colorado, but she did tell me that she wouldn't mind if you paid her a visit."

"Yeah, see, there you go! You can go down to Arizona, get to know her a little better, take her out a few times, go riding, and then disappear into the sunset," the ladies' man told him, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Women love a good mystery."

"That's not a mystery," Nathan scolded him, "that's being a slimeball."

Buck rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Could be worse," Josiah said to Vin. "You could be… peeing purple," he finished in a whisper.

Vin looked up at JD. "You're still–?"

The younger man held up his hand to stop Tanner before he could say it. "Yes, I am." He shot a hot look at Josiah.

"Now, brother, the doctor said it would go away in a few days… a week, two… a month, tops."

"A month?" Vin echoed. "Damn, kid… that's above and beyond the call."

"You won't get any arguments from me," Dunne replied huffily. "You should see the reaction when someone catches me at a urinal…" He shook his head and the others burst out laughing.

Laughter, Ezra thought, my God, but the sound of it was like music to his ears. He took a deep breath, finally relaxing for the first time in days. They were home and whole once more – a band of brothers, and a treasure beyond all earthly measure as far as he was concerned.

And, from the looks Chris was giving Vin, the next two weeks might be more than interesting enough to keep the sniper from feeling too confined by his recuperation.

He caught Josiah's eyes by accident and saw the affection in them as well. So, Mr. Sanchez knew as well… Glancing around, he realized that they all knew. Well then, he decided, it was high time they celebrated.

He began to plot even before they reached the vehicles.

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

Friday, 1600 Hours

Vin sat in the living room, watching the end of a movie. Today was the first day he'd really been awake, the last three spent mostly in bed, sleeping away the hours while his body worked on healing itself.

But this morning he'd woken up when the alarm went off. He'd gotten up and actually taken a shower, with a little help from Chris.

He grinned, remembering the way the older man had steadfastly kept his gaze from falling below his shoulders as he'd helped him wash. Not that he didn't appreciate Larabee's problem; he was getting a little proddy himself, but he knew his body wasn't up to anything just yet.

Glancing over at Chris, his grin grew wider. The blond was sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep. Well, that was just fine. The old man needed his rest, especially after spending so many days in the hospital, worrying about him, not to mention dealing with the fallout from the Neal investigation.

In order to save his own miserable hide, Tim Neal had been more than happy to rat out his bosses. Needless to say, heads were going to roll – important, wealthy, powerful heads – and Travis and Team Seven were getting the credit for it. He and Ezra would be getting commendations and Chris would end up having to go to Washington, D.C. with Travis to testify at a closed-door Congressional hearing. Poor guy.

Still, he had to admit that it had been worth it in the end. The last thing the world needed was countries and militia commanders across Africa getting their hands on weapons of mass destruction.

He watched as Chris frowned in his sleep. A moment later, the blond moaned softly.

"Chris? Hey, Chris," he called quietly.

The man's eyes opened immediately and he was sitting up before he even realized he was awake. "What? Vin? You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Looked like you were havin' a bad dream, though."

Larabee scrubbed his hand over his face, then stretched and yawned. "Yeah… think so." He glanced over at the television, seeing that the movie had ended. His gaze went to the clock. "You gettin' hungry? Want something before I go put supper on?"

Vin thought for a moment. He wasn't exactly hungry, but he knew he needed to keep eating. His body needed the fuel in order to keep getting better. "What did you have in mind?"

"You want a couple pieces of that leftover chicken?"

Vin nodded, suddenly feeling hungry. "Couple of legs, and a couple of wings?"

"Comin' right up," Chris said, pushing to his feet.

As the man passed him, Vin reached out, grabbing Larabee's arm. When the blond looked down at him, he said, "Nightmares still about me?"

That rounded the older man's eyes with surprise. "How did you know they were about you?"

"Heard ya callin' m' name a few times," Vin admitted.

"Shit," Larabee breathed, looking away. "I'm sorry, I never—"

"Hell, Chris," he interrupted the man, "y' think I ain't had plenty of nightmares with you as leadin' man?"

Chris huffed out a sigh through his nose. "Yeah, well… I'm fine. In fact, this last one was actually about the trip to Washington… Dreamed Newt made a pass at me."

Tanner grinned. "That'd be a nightmare, all right."

"I'll go get that chicken for you. You want some coffee, too?"

"Rather have a beer."

"Like that's gonna happen."

Vin sighed heavily. "Man's gotta try. Yeah, coffee…" He let Chris go and the blond started off. "Think y' can make it a little stronger this time?"

"Why don't I just go get you some straight battery acid?" the man called back.

Vin shook his head, muttering under his breath. It wasn't his fault if he liked his coffee strong. Hell, the rest of them made it so weak it tasted more like dishwater than coffee.

He reached for the remote and began surfing through the channels, looking for something to watch and finally settling on CNN. His head came up when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. No, make that two vehicles, he realized.

He smiled. The guys had decided to drop by for a visit – about time, too. While they had all called him at least once every day, he hadn't actually seen the men since he'd been released from the hospital, and he was glad that they had decided to drop by.

Carefully pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled over to the door, opening it before anyone could reach the bell. His eyes rounded when he saw that they were all loaded down with… stuff.

"Hey, guys," he greeted. "What's up?"

Josiah flashed a toothy grin at him and said, "A celebration, brother."

Vin grinned. "Hell, J'siah, ain't even been a week since they cut me loose."

"That's not what we're celebrating, Junior," Buck said, shouldering his way past Tanner, but being careful not jostle or bump him.

Vin scowled, turning to watch as the ladies' man headed straight into the living room. Nathan, Josiah, Ezra and JD followed Wilmington. Vin closed the door, watching in stunned silence as food and sodas were unpacked.

There was also a signature purple box from Let Them Eat Cake, his favorite bakery. And videos, video games, and… presents?

He looked around at the men. It wasn't his birthday, or Chris'. There were no holidays on the horizon, either.

"What's all this for?" he asked just as Chris walked up to join him. The blond was holding his plate of chicken and a cup of coffee.

"What's going on?" Larabee asked, obviously as confused as he was.

Then Vin actually took a good look at the food – steaks, ribs, chicken, Texas fries, homemade bread, corn on the cob, ranch beans, and salad…

They'd made a run to Squealin' Pig Bar-B-Q!

He glanced over at the plate of chicken Chris was holding. "Uh, think I'll hold off on that," he told the man. "Don't want t' ruin my supper."

Chris' eyes narrowed, but Nathan jumped in, saying, "I talked to Dr. Chandler. He said it's fine; Vin ought to be able to eat anything he wants."

"Yeah, but—"

"I'm starved," Tanner interrupted his lover, heading straight for the steaks and then the ribs.

Chris sighed and shook his head. "What's going on?" he asked again, finally seeing the rest of the goodies.

"We're celebrating," JD said.

"Celebrating what?" he asked.

Ezra cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention. "Mr. Larabee, why don't you get something to eat?" he suggested.

Chris looked down at the chicken on the plate, then set it on the table in the hallway and headed in to get some of the food. When he had his plate full, he took a seat on the sofa next to Vin – the only spot that was left. Vin flashed him a quick grin.

After a couple of bites, Larabee said, "All right, is somebody going to tell me what we're celebrating? Vin hasn't even been out of the hospital a week yet."

It was Ezra who picked up the explanation again. "Yes, well, we decided that it was past time that we celebrated… you – the two of you, that is."

"The two of us?" Vin asked, honestly confused.

"The two of you," Buck repeated, a leer in his eye and a naughty grin on his lips.

"The—?" Vin yelped, his eyes rounding with surprise and fear.

"Congratulations, brothers," Josiah said, lifting his soda in a toast.

"To a long, happy, healthy life," Nathan added, lifting his can as well.

"Yeah, we hope you're both real happy," JD agreed, lifting his can and tapping it against Buck's.

"You see," Ezra said, "it came to our attention that we had all realized the, ah, intimate turn your, ah, relationship had taken. Therefore, we wanted to make it perfectly clear that you didn't need to hide the true nature of your relationship from us any longer." The man looked very pleased with himself when he was finished.

Chris and Vin sat in stunned silence for a few moments.

"Ya see…" Buck said into the silence, pausing to wipe the barbecue sauce off his lips before he continued, "…we decided we'd throw you two a bachelor party… kind of – in reverse, I guess you'd say."

"We wanted you to know that we're happy for you, and that there isn't any reason for you to hide who and what you are, and have, from us. We support you," Josiah told them.

Chris swallowed hard. "We meant to tell you… just didn't find a good time."

"Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore," Buck told them. "Now, eat up before the food gets cold, but save room for the cake!"

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

The rest of the meal passed with companionable conversation. And the food gave Vin a second wind. He shifted over to one of the recliners when Buck went to bring the cake over to them while Chris went to find some paper plates they could use for the pieces.

The sniper was glad he was sitting down when he saw what was on it – two crossed cocks complete with balls, encircled with gold rings at mid-shaft, and the words "Just Married… Kinda."

He felt his cheeks go red and he turned an incredulous look on the ladies' man. "You— You— You had 'em put cocks on our cake?" he managed to get out, his voice climbing in pitch and volume with each word.

Buck grinned. "Yep."

"But— But— But I go in there all the time for stuff!" Tanner howled. "They— They— They—"

"Yeah, that's what Cindy said," Buck interrupted him. "Said you and Chris come in to pick up stuff for breakfast on the weekends and she thought you guys were cute. Together, I mean – cute together. She suggested the decoration when I told her what I wanted the cake for."

"She—?" Vin squeaked.

When Chris walked in and saw the cake he dropped the paper plates he was carrying. He stood, staring at the image, his face going beet red.

"Here ya go, stud," Buck said, handing Chris a card from the bakery owner. Then he bent over and picked up the plates.

Larabee opened the envelope and pulled out the card. "Congratulations," he read out loud, "hope you guys are very happy. If you need any advice on where to go on a 'gay' vacation, my brother can help! Enjoy the cake, it's Vin's favorite. Best Wishes, Cindy."

"What's your favorite, Vin?" JD asked him.

The sniper had collected himself and he managed to huff out a breath and said, "Vanilla cake with raspberry filling and butter rum frosting."

The others looked interested to appalled, but they all admitted that it was the best cake they had ever tasted once they tried it.

Once cake and coffee were consumed, Buck handed Vin the first of the waiting presents.

Tanner ripped the wrapping off and immediately blushed. He held up the box of seven body oils, each in a different color and flavor. Chris blushed as well while the others all laughed.

"Hey," the ladies' man said, "I know for a fact… flavor is important."

"Here," Nathan said, handing Chris his present.

The blond took it gratefully, the very thought of Vin and flavored oils making him half-hard right there where he sat. He unwrapped the gift and smiled appreciatively when he saw the title on the book lying on top of a three-ring binder. "Thanks, Nate," he said, then handed the book to Vin.

"Cool," Vin said, then passed the book – on how same-sex couples could protect themselves legally –to JD, who passed it around to the others.

Nathan pointed to the binder that was still in the box. "That's all the forms they talk about in the book. I found 'em all on the companion website and printed them all off for you, so all you have to do is fill out the ones you need and take 'em to your lawyer."

"Appreciate you looking out for us," Larabee said, leaning over to shake the man's hand.

"No problem," Nathan told him.

"Here you go, brothers," Josiah said, handing his gift to Vin before helping himself to a second piece of the cake.

Vin opened the box and grinned. "It's another book," he said, then pulled it out. "The Kama Sutra of Gay Sex," he read, frowning slightly. He opened the book at random and stared down at the picture he found there. His mouth fell open and he stopped to read. "Holy… Chris, you gotta see this," he said and handed the book to the blond.

Larabee opened it a random as well, stopping to read and appreciate the images. The more he read, the more interested he appeared. Finally, he looked up. "Uh, thanks," he said.

"What is it?" Buck asked, reaching for the book.

"Nothing you need to see!" Vin said.

Chris smiled and showed Buck the title.

The ladies' man grinned. "Ah, okay… I've already memorized the straight version."

"Of course you have," Ezra replied drolly, then handed Chris his gift.

The blond opened the light-weight box and folded back the tissue he found inside, finding two airline tickets to Alaska. "Ezra," he said, "we can't—"

Standish held up his hand to stop him. "Before you tell me it's too expensive, let me assure you, it wasn't."

"But—"

"I simply cashed in some of my frequent flyer miles, so the tickets cost me nothing."

"Well, that's a helluva gift," Buck said, scowling at the man.

"And how do you explain the reservations at a… lodge, and all the other stuff in here?" Larabee asked the undercover man.

"What is all that?" Nathan asked, looking at Ezra.

The undercover man huffed out a breath and said, "Well, I just felt that every couple deserves a… honeymoon," he defended himself. "And I have a very good friend who happens to be a travel agent."

"'Out Alaska'?" Vin asked after Chris had handed him the box with all of the tickets and brochures.

"Yes, it's a tour company that specializes in catering to gay outdoorsmen. I understand the guides are all gay and they, well, you can read the literature at your leisure. I took the liberty of requesting vacation time for you in July. I understand it's quite spectacular in Alaska at that time of year, although you'll want to take along a potent bug repellant and some netting."

"To Alaska?" JD asked.

"Oh yeah," Josiah said. "Mosquitoes and flies up there get big enough to pass themselves off as birds."

"But, Ezra, this still had to cost you—"

"If you must know, I had bought some stock recently and then sold it, for a very handsome profit – all of which I used to invest in this trip."

Vin grinned. "TransPacific Oil stock?"

"Why, Mr. Tanner, how in the world did you manage to deduce that?"

"Ezra, that's called insider trading!" JD yelped.

"Yes, well, I did it though a broker…"

Chris shook his head and chuckled. Looking over at Vin, he said, "Hell, the least they owe you in a honeymoon."

"You've got that right," Buck agreed.

"Amen, brother."

"And what the FTC doesn't know…" Nathan said.

"Won't get Ezra arrested," JD finished, shaking his head.

The undercover man looked decidedly smug. "Yes, well, it's the first time I've ever done anything remotely like this."

"Sure it is," the all chorused.

When the laughter died down, JD handed Vin the last of their gifts.

Vin ripped the paper off the large, flat box. Inside was a photo album. He opened it to find it filled with pictures of him and Chris, as well as some of the others as well.

The first pictures were from the time Vin had first joined Team Seven and the last were from a March Madness weekend when they had gotten together to watch the games and see who would win their betting pool. It had been their last carefree weekend before they had started on the TransPacific case.

"Where'd you get all these?" Vin asked the younger man.

"From everybody," JD replied. "You know how someone's usually got a camera out whenever we're all together."

"For blackmail purposes!" Buck added.

Nathan grinned and lifted his camera, taking a shot of Vin and JD with the album.

"I thought you might like a… memory book for your time together," the younger man said, blushing slightly as he did. "Casey sort of gave me the idea."

"Hey, some of these are from my camera," Chris said, frowning in confusion.

"Yeah, well, I kinda hacked into your PC here at home and downloaded some of the ones I liked best," JD admitted.

Larabee's head came up from where he had been looking at the pages. "You hacked into my computer?"

JD tried to smile. "Uh, well, yeah, kind of…"

"Which is like being sort of pregnant, right?" Buck asked, earning himself a "gee thanks" glower from his roommate.

"I only looked in the 'my pics' directory, and then just the folders that were marked 'Team Seven.' Really."

Chris was still scowling, but he knew JD was as honest as they came. He huffed out a breath. "You could've just asked me."

"But then I'd have given it all away!"

"He has a point," Vin said.

"Yeah," Chris agreed, "I suppose he does." He smiled at JD, adding, "Thanks, kid, it's a great present."

JD beamed. "Great! Glad you like it. And there's a bunch of empty pages at the end so you can keep adding more."

"Yeah, like a bunch from that Alaska trip," Buck said and wagged his eyebrows. "After all, you're gonna be in bear country and we all know bears do it, and birds do it… and campers do it, too."

"I think that's birds and bees and educated fleas…" Ezra corrected the ladies' man.

"Besides, whatever the hell you think bears are doing out there, it won't be what Vin and I are doing," Chris said.

"Speak for yourself, old man," Tanner countered. "I might just do me some huntin' bare."

The others laughed at Larabee's scandalized expression, the blond escaping to the kitchen on the pretext of making some more coffee.

As they sat around, swapping stories about Alaska and planning all the things Vin and Chris ought to do on their trip, the two lovers sat back and enjoyed the conversation, basking in the warmth of acceptance and good friends who were really family.

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

That night, the two men lay in bed, Chris gently rubbing Vin's head. "You really feeling okay?" he asked Tanner.

"Yeah, just a little tired is all." Vin paused to yawn loudly. "I can't believe they did all that."

"I can," Chris replied.

"Yeah, I guess I can, too, when I stop an' think about it," Vin admitted. "Just ain't really had family in so long… Sometimes it's hard t' remember what it's like."

"You think Ezra's telling the truth about that trip?"

"Hell if I know," Vin replied, then chuckled. "Guess we better just take the tickets and enjoy ourselves. Y' know how he gets if he think somebody don't like one of his gifts."

"Yeah, I know… And, I have to admit, I've always wanted to go to Alaska."

"Yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"Yep. Want t' see a polar bear 'n' hear the wolves howling… maybe even see a whale… All them nature shows on TV, it looks so damn beautiful up there."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Chris replied, but he was looking down at Vin.

"Damn, Cowboy, y' make me hard when y' look at me like that."

"Just think you're pretty beautiful, too."

"Ain't beautiful," Vin argued. "Women are beautiful. Guys are… guys."

"Handsome?"

"I guess…"

"I don't know…" the blond replied, trailing off.

"What, y' don't think I'm handsome?"

Chris leaned down and brushed a kiss to Vin's lips. "I think you're a lot like Alaska – wild… free… and… beautiful."

"Thought I was the poet 'round here"

Chris laughed softly. "Poetry in motion maybe."

"Christ, Larabee, you get into some of Buck's romance juice tonight?"

"No," was the quiet reply, "just remembering how close I came to losing you."

"Y' didn't lose me."

"I know, but it was close, Vin… so damn close."

Vin reached up and pulled Chris down next to him, snuggling up to the man and giving him a hug. "Didn't happen; can't think about it like it did."

"I know, but sometimes… I just can't stop thinking about it – about what might have happened."

Vin nodded, giving the man a tighter squeeze. "Well, stop."

They fell asleep, tangled in each other's arms.

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

Chris awoke to the pleasurable sensation of someone stroking his cock. He moaned in pleasure and began to hump his hips, trying to friction himself more. But then he felt warm lips closing around him, and a tongue lapped up the sensitive underside of his shaft before swirling around his glans.

"Oh God," he breathed, his eyes slowly blinking open only to see Vin going down on him. "Christ!" he yelped.

Vin laughed, the vibration making the blond harder.

"Keep it up and I'm gonna come," he warned the man, but Vin kept going and, a few minutes later, he was shooting down the man's throat.

Vin sat up, looking more than a little smug as he peered down at Larabee. "Y' liked that, huh?"

"Liked?" Chris asked, still trying to catch his breath. "No, I didn't like it…"

"Y' fuckin' loved it," Vin finished for him, a hungry look in his blue eyes.

"Oh yeah," the blond agreed, a silly grin on his face.

"Yeah, well, y' leave me like this too long and I'm gonna make y' pay, old man."

Larabee chuckled, rolling over onto his side and pushing himself up. "I just bet you would," he growled, green eyes narrowing as he moved closer to the man. "What're you up for?"

"Not what I want," Vin grumbled, his hand straying down to stroke his still-hard cock.

"Mmm," Chris said, reaching out and gently pressing Vin back so he was forced to lie down. And he did, his legs open, his arms out at his sides. "That's better," Larabee said, crawling over and leaning down to lick at one of Tanner's nipples.

"Oh," the man breathed, then he sighed deeply as he felt Larabee's lips close on the hard nub, his teeth carefully nibbling on it.

With his hand, Chris reached down and took hold of Vin's shaft, squeezing it and making the man's hips begin to thrust as he tried to friction himself in the blond's fist.

But Chris wasn't going to let him do that. He had plans, and he didn't want Vin coming too quickly.

He shifted, moving between Vin's legs, still holding on to the man's cock. He stroked it, squeezed it, then leaned over and licked over the almost-purple head, swirling his tongue over it and teasing at the slit, which began to leak.

"Oh shit," Vin breathed, beginning to pant slightly. "Damn, that feels good," he moaned, but Chris had already stopped. He whimpered softly.

"Settle down," Chris scolded him, reaching out to palm Vin's balls and roll them back and forth. "I'm gonna take care you… Gonna take real good care of you."

Vin moaned again, and Chris chuckled. He reached down and kissed the head of Vin's cock, then sucked it into his mouth for a moment. He kissed it again, and wet his fingers in his mouth, reaching down afterward to rub over the small pucker of flesh before pressing one finger inside.

Vin immediately began to jerk and moan and Chris realized that the man was a lot closer to the edge than he'd expected. But then, it had been a while.

He pressed his finger in deeper and twisted it back and forth while he reached down with his free hand and grabbed the base of Vin's cock, holding it still while he tried to devour the entire shaft at once. It was impossible, but he did his best, his tongue swirling over the soft, veiny surface. He sucked at the head, his lips caught behind the ridge of Tanner's glans. Then he began to poke his finger in and out of Vin's hole.

That sent the recovering man over the edge and he started to shake, his hips beginning to jerk uncontrollably. And he was coming, shooting down Chris' throat again and again.

Vin's orgasm went on longer than usual, but Larabee didn't mind. He rode it out with him, sucking and playing in his hole, trying to keep him going as long as possible. And when it did come to an end, Tanner crashed, slumping back against the mattress, panting, his eyes closed as sweat rolled off his face.

Chris waited for a few moments, then asked, "Vin? You okay?"

A heartfelt moan was the reply, followed by a mostly articulate, "Uh-huh, mmm fnnn."

"Fine, huh?" Larabee asked, easing his finger out of the man and moving to lie down next to him. For a brief moment he remembered what it had been like after he and Sarah had made love, how they would lie together and hold each other. It was something he'd been uncomfortable with at first but, over time, he'd come to enjoy the time almost as much as he did their making love. And now, with Vin, it was something he actually looked forward to, treasured.

And he'd come so close to almost losing it all, again.

Life was so fragile, it frightened him, badly, but the strength of love overrode his fears. It made him strong enough to endure, to go on when things like this happened, but he silently vowed that he would never ignore one of Vin's hunches in the field again, no matter what they were doing.

"You thinkin' too much again?" Vin asked him.

"Probably," Chris admitted.

Vin grinned and shook his head. "Well, guess I'm just gonna have t' do something about that."

"Oh really," Larabee replied. "And what would that be?"

"Gonna go get that book Josiah gave us while you pick a flavor."

Chris quickly held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Oh, no, you don't. Neither one of us is ready for that book, or any damn flavors."

"Wanna bet?" Vin asked, reaching down to fondle Larabee's still-spent cock.

"Aren't you hungry?" the blond asked, hoping to divert the man.

"Some," Vin replied. "Guess I should work up m' appetite so we can go get us a real breakfast."

"A real breakfast?" Chris questioned. "What the hell do you call what I fix in the mornings?"

"A good try?"

Larabee's eyes narrowed. "Where the hell is that book?"

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