Part 1: To the Last Breath

Pairing: Chris/Vin, rest

Editors' Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the stand alone slash zine, Breathe, 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 our zines that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Patricia Grace, Erica Michaels, and Lorin Zane were 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, Deyna Greywolf, Dani Martin, Erica Michaels, Karson Raine, Nina Talbot, Kacey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 7-12-2009. Art by Shiloh.

Larabee looked up from the file he had been skimming as he leaned against Tanner's desk. He frowned. Orin Travis was headed across the office toward him and his men, and if the serious expression on the older man's face was any indication, the news he was bringing them wasn't good. In fact, Larabee would be willing to bet some kind of shit had just hit the proverbial fan...

"Sir?" he greeted as the Assistant Director came to a stop, Travis' gaze sweeping over each of the agents, all of whom were seated at their desks, except for Larabee.

"We need to talk, gentlemen. Now."

Chris pushed off Tanner's desk and nodded toward the conference room. Without comment, the men rose and filed into the room. Travis was the last one in, and he closed the door behind them. He waited until the seven agents had taken their seats, then huffed out a sigh and asked, "Has anyone been monitoring the news this morning?"

Heads shook. It appeared no one had.

Travis scowled and looked down at the carpet, wishing he didn't have to be the one who broke the news. "As you may or may not know, there is a government research facility here in Denver. Well, on the edge of Purgatory, to be exact."

"What kind of research facility?" JD asked. He had never heard about any government group operating in the run-down neighborhood most people avoided if at all possible, and by the surprised look on Vin's face, he hadn't heard about it, either.

"A laboratory," Travis supplied.

"Doin' what?" Tanner wanted to know. After all, he lived there, despite all his teammates' efforts to get him to move someplace safer.

Travis' lips pressed into a thin line for a moment, but then he huffed out a sigh and said, "Apparently, they're doing research on bioterrorism and counterterrorism." The resulting disgusted look on Tanner's face summed up his feeling on the subject quite nicely, the older man thought. "It gets worse, I'm afraid," Travis continued. "A whistle-blower sent the Post a confidential internal memo. Evidently, four mice that were being used in some of their experiments are... unaccounted for."

"What exactly does that mean?" Wilmington wanted to know, his tone defensive.

"It means they can't find the damn things," Travis snapped back, clearly frustrated by the whole situation.

That reaction apprehended the attention of all seven men. Orin Travis wasn't a man who rattled easily, but this had clearly upset the man.

"The newspaper broke the story earlier today, and the television networks are all over it," Travis explained on a sigh. "According to the Post reporter, a routine check day before yesterday turned up the four missing mice. And apparently, they've been trying to find the damn things ever since."

"The Ides of March, how appropriate," Standish offered half under his breath.

"What does all this have to do with us?" Josiah asked the AD.

Travis scowled again and huffed out another sigh. "Shortly after the paper came out this morning, the facility began receiving bomb threats," he told them. "And about two hours ago, at seven a.m., someone tossed a pipe bomb over the wall surrounding the facility. It didn't go off, but it could have. And one of the groups who have e-mailed the facility this morning is the same eco-terrorist organization that burned those ski lifts near Aspen and ransacked the university labs last year."

"What will our role be?" Larabee asked his boss, frowning slightly.

"To protect the facility until this situation is resolved, and to investigate who this morning's bomber was. Forensics is examining the pipe bomb as we speak. They already know to copy you on the report as soon as they're done. Our IT techs are trying to trace back the e-mail threats, to determine who might really be dangerous, and who's just venting."

Ezra leaned forward. "Might I inquire as to what kind of experiments the missing mice were being used for?"

Travis snorted. "You can, Agent Standish, but as of yet, Homeland Security has not seen fit to share that information with us."

"Wonderful," Buck grumbled, shaking his head.

"Did they happen to tell you if those mice are carrying something that can be transmitted to humans?" Nathan asked the AD, a sour look on his face.

Travis shook his head. "That's apparently 'need to know' as well, Agent Jackson."

"And if they are carrying something that can—?" JD began.

"Then we'd better hope their people find those damn rodents as quickly as possible," Travis interrupted him. "For now, let's just concentrate on making sure no one blows up the facility before they can find the damn things..." He took a deep breath to rein in his own temper and added, "The NIH is sending a team to help the laboratory people find the mice and do whatever it is that needs to be done. We just need to ensure that they're all safe while they do so. God only knows what could be set loose on the city if someone actually succeeds in destroying the building." The older man sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. "This doesn't make me any happier than it does you, believe me. Just... be careful, gentlemen."

The others nodded, but it was clear that no one was feeling particularly good about this new assignment. Still, they had a job to do, and they put their personal feelings aside and got to it.

Monday, 1130 Hours

A couple of hours later, the members of Team Seven were hard at work. Nathan was accompanying a Forensics team, and a team from the laboratory, to test the area around the facility, ensuring there had been no breach of containment.

Buck was working with the explosives experts, trying to narrow down who the bomber might be, while JD was peering over the IT techs' shoulders as they worked on tracking down the various sources of the threatening e-mails, which continued to come in at the no-longer-secret facility.

Ezra had headed out to tap his wide network of contacts and see if he could find out what Creation's Liberation Coalition was currently up to. The most violent of the extremist environmental groups, CLC had employed deadly tactics in the past, and this was just the kind of situation that would grab their attention.

Chris was in a conference room inside the covert facility that had been set up to serve as their command center, coordinating the information his men were getting and working on a plan to protect the facility and the people who worked there.

To help with that project, Vin and Josiah were outside the facility, keeping an eye on the building to, hopefully, prevent any more bombs from sailing over the fence. To that end, Tanner was on the roof of another, taller building across the street from the secret research laboratory, while Josiah was working with the company who provided security for the facility, helping them to plug a few gaps the team had identified.

As Vin peered through his scope at the rear of the nondescript facility, he couldn't help but marvel at how it looked like any number of older, run-down buildings that littered the mostly-Hispanic community he lived in. God only knew what kind of witch's brew they might be working on inside... And the very thought made him mad. Why didn't the people in the community know this was happening in their backyards?

But he already knew the answer: because the people in his community were considered expendable. They never would have put a facility like this in Boulder, or Denver, or even in Capitol Hill. But Purgatory? Sure, why not.

It wasn't right.

His gaze continued to wander over the three sides of the building he could see, as well as the buildings closest to the facility. One, an Ace Hardware store, was displaying a large handwritten note in the front window: Mousetraps Sold Out.

He grinned at that. At least the locals had kept their senses of humor - so far.

His cell phone rang and Vin fished it out of the pocket of his black uniform pants. "Yeah, Tanner," he said.

"I heard from Travis," Chris' voice announced into his ear. "They think the mice were being used in some kind of weaponized plague-shit tests."

"Wonderful," Vin said on a sigh. "What does that mean?"

"Watch yourself," Larabee replied, adding a moment later, "No cheese sandwiches for lunch."

"Fuck you, Larabee," Tanner replied, shaking his head as he shoved the cell phone back into his pocket. But he was grinning. Chris wasn't just his boss, he was Vin's best friend. And Vin wouldn't have minded if Chris were something even more than that, but Tanner honestly didn't think he stood a snowball's chance in hell of ever having that kind of relationship with the handsome blond man.

Still, he'd take whatever he could get, and make do with it, because a life with Chris in it - somehow - was far, far better than a life without Chris in it.

Monday, 1700 Hours

Later that evening, Vin sat in a small neighborhood restaurant, devouring his dinner at the worn Formica counter. The café, Tolson's, was a favorite among the locals, especially when Mrs. Tolson fixed roast beef for the special.

Bob "Pop" Tolson worked the long counter while "Mom" did all the cooking, and a local teenager took care of the ten booths that were squeezed into the small dining area. Those booths were presently full, and Vin shared the counter with two truckers he'd seen there before and a Black man he was sure must be a first-timer. The four of them enjoyed their meals and hot coffee in companionable silence, while the people in the booths carried on conversations that filled the café with a soft buzz.

Pop gave the ceiling a cranky scowl when a metal-rending noise drowned out the local country music station that happened to be playing his favorite song on the radio. "Damned exhaust fan," he grouched, filling one of the trucker's half-empty coffee cup. "Gonna have to replace the whole damn ventilation system one of these days."

"That mean you're finally gettin' that old fan fixed, Pop?" the trucker asked, flashing a grin at his partner. Pop's reputation as a fix-it man was confirmed by a series of photos and newspaper articles decorating the walls at haphazard intervals - mostly awards and citations of recognition for helpful inventions.

"I am," the old man countered, waving his hand in the air above his head. "That's what all the damn noise is about. Couple of guys have been up there the better part of the day, hammering on the blasted thing and not gettin' any further than I did myself. You'd think they'd finally give up or fix it! With all I'm paying 'em, they'd better get it done, I can tell you that." He refilled Vin's coffee cup. "Probably would've gotten it done hours ago, but one of 'em keeps comin' down to help himself to Mother's biscuits; can't get any work done doin' that."

The truckers chuckled and the ATF agent smiled. Then, with a loud, echoing series of clangs, the fan started up and a cool breeze began circulating through the warm café.

"Well, it's about time," the old man grumbled, wiping his hands on a damp towel and heading outside to talk to the repairmen, muttering as he went, "Probably gonna cost me a couple days' profits, too, you watch..."

A few minutes later, the old man returned. Vin had finished his dinner and was working on a slice of Mrs. Tolson's homemade peach cobbler, one of the last she had left. But he'd known that she'd kept it safe for him. He hardly ever missed a Monday night at the café, thanks to her cobbler.

The truckers had left, heading back onto the road again, and the counter was empty now except for Tanner and the Black man. Pop walked over and, checking to make sure he was out of the other man's earshot, asked Vin quietly, "You hear about them mice that escaped that so-called lab?"

Tanner nodded.

"You know about that lab being here in Purgatory?"

"Not a damn thing," Vin replied quietly.

"Hell, Vin, you know how it is around here," Pop said a little nervously. "Mice get into everything... You can't keep 'em out, especially in the wintertime, but even this time of year they're a pain in the ass."

"Wouldn't worry too much," Tanner told him. "They would've had to report it if those mice were carrying something that could endanger the public," he told the older man, hoping he was right, but he had his own serious doubts. The war on terror had been used as an excuse for a lot of stupid shit.

Pop shook his head. "It ain't right," he said. "Just ain't right, but there ain't a damn thing we can do about it, is there?"

"Just make sure you and Mrs. T put out some extra traps," Tanner told him.

"Already done, son," the man replied, shaking his head. "Hell, the repairmen even found a couple of 'em living up there in the fan... One of these days, we're gonna retire and leave this business to somebody younger..."

Vin grinned. It was a familiar complaint, one the old man had been making for over ten years now.

Monday, 1923 Hours

Vin coughed, slowing his usual hard run to a more moderate jog. Something was wrong. His chest was burning, he was soaked with sweat, and his vision was threatening to blur just enough to make staying on the park path an act of divine intervention. The slower pace eased his symptoms, though, and he completed his run, ending up back in the parking lot of his apartment building at the end of it.

Bending over, he braced his hands above his knees and drew in several deep breaths, trying to chase away the vague waves of nausea that made his stomach feel heavy and his throat thick.

Seated on the steps of the building, ten-year-old Jesse Chavez watched Vin with growing concern. He glanced down at the stopwatch he was holding, expecting to find that the man had shaved another ten seconds off his regular time, but instead he found the man was almost a full minute slower than he had been yesterday.

"Vin? Something wrong?"

The ATF agent sucked in one more deep breath and blew it out, straightening and arching back to stretch his spine, which had begun to ache just slightly. "Naw, just catchin' your cold, I think."

"My cold?" the boy questioned, looking decidedly guilty. "I'm sorry, Vin. Really."

It's okay, Jesse, it's not your fault." Vin coughed, then massaged his chest through the material of his gray sweatshirt. "Maybe it's the flu," he corrected, not really wanting the child to think he was responsible, although he probably was. Vin had taken Jesse and his sister, Maria, to the clinic when their temperatures had spiked Friday night and their mother had awakened him by pounding on his door in a panic.

"Maybe you should have Dr. Agudelo at the clinic look at you," Jesse suggested. "She's real nice. She gave me and Maria candy after."

"Might just do that, little man," Vin said, taking back his stopwatch and frowning at the results. "But, the first thing I'm gonna do is get a hot shower." He looked down at the boy, adding, "And I think it's time you headed inside to get that homework finished, don't you?"

"Ah, Vin, I hate homework."

"Yeah, well, it's just part of the price y' pay for bein' a kid, kid," he replied, ruffling the boy's hair.

Jesse sighed dramatically, but he stood and followed Vin inside the building, climbing the stairs behind him to the second floor. "See ya tomorrow, Vin!" he called.

"Okay. Buenas noches, Jesse."

"Si, buenas noches, Vin!" the boy called, disappearing.

Tanner grinned, then continued on up to the fourth floor, more than a little annoyed that he was winded by the time he got to his door.

He fished his key out of the key pocket in his sweats and slid it into the lock as another cough rattled in his chest, making it ache. And his muscles were starting to ache as well.

"Oh yeah," he muttered as he stepped inside, "definitely catching something..."

Tuesday, 0710 Hours

The following morning, Vin sat at a table in Perkins, along with the rest of his team, the other men all devouring their breakfasts as they chatted. The sniper looked down at his omelet and sighed softly. He had absolutely no appetite, but he knew he needed to eat. He couldn't afford to get light-headed while up on the roof, watching the lab.

He noticed Nathan was checking him out, and with good reason, too. He was usually the first one done, and he'd hardly gotten started.

"Vin, you feelin' all right?" the former medic asked.

"Yeah, just not real hungry," Vin replied, then tried to stifle a cough, but he was largely unsuccessful.

"Ooh, that sounds nasty," Buck commented, giving the man a wary look. The handsome man hated getting sick - it cut into his quality time with the ladies.

"Thanks," Vin replied dryly, reaching for his coffee and hoping the hot liquid would kill the tickle that had set in at the back of his throat.

"Sounds like you picked up a nasty cold," JD commented. "The lunch girl, uh..."

"Kimberly," Buck supplied immediately, nodding, his expression going a little moony.

"Yeah, her," JD said, nodding, "she had a really bad cold last week. I'll bet you caught it from her when you rode the elevator down with her last Tuesday."

Chris' eyes rounded slightly. "You actually remember stuff like that?" he asked JD.

Buck rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Stud, you wouldn't believe some of the things this kid remembers."

"What?" JD asked, his eyebrows climbing. "I'm just... observant."

"And Miss Kimberly Hartley is someone worthy of observation," Josiah added dryly, digging into his bowl of fruit, spearing several pieces with his fork.

That won a chuckle from Buck. "You've got that right," he agreed. "But she's taken some kind of vow - plans to stay a virgin until she gets married."

"Nothing wrong with that," Nathan told him, scraping the last of his oatmeal from his bowl.

"It's a waste of potential, if you ask me," was the ladies' man's reply.

Vin grinned, enjoying the banter. And JD was probably right. He remembered how sick the young woman had sounded when he'd exchanged small talk with her on their ride down to the lobby. Between that and Jesse and Maria, his immune system had probably been overwhelmed and succumbed.

Yep, he'd caught a cold - damn it all. Another cough tore through his chest and he couldn't quite stifle the groan it elicited. That brought Nathan's attention back to focus on him.

"Damn, Vin, you'd better let me check you out when we get to the lab."

"Ah hell, Nate, I'm fine," he replied, forcing a piece of the omelet into his mouth. "Just a cold," he added after he swallowed.

Larabee's gazed shifted to the sniper, the man's green eyes narrowing slightly. "Tanner, you look like shit."

Vin's eyes narrowed as well, and he scowled back at the man, but it had no more effect on the blond than Larabee's glare had on him.

Chris glanced over at Nathan. "Check him over as soon as we get there."

The former medic nodded, the decision made, with or without Vin's approval or agreement.

Tanner rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help feeling a little warmed by the men's concern. It was nice to have a family again, even if they were a bunch of overprotective, mother-henning, annoying older brothers for the most part.

He reached for his coffee, concentrating on that rather than his food while the rest of them finished their meals. As he sipped the hot drink, he noticed Chris watching him. He shot the man a quick grin, and watched him relax a little, but he knew Larabee would be keeping an eye on him.

And when it came right down to it, Vin didn't mind.

Tuesday, 0827 Hours

Later, as Vin was checking his gear, Nathan came over carrying his "kit." Knowing he wouldn't be able to get out of it, Vin sighed and submitted to the man's examination.

Nathan proceeded to do a quick appraisal of the sniper: blood pressure was low, but not abnormally so for a man in Tanner's physical condition; his pulse was a little quick and thready, though; skin slightly pale and clammy; good amount of loose chest congestion, but nothing dangerous; and a fever of almost 101 degrees.

"Well?" Vin asked when the man was finished.

"You've probably got a bug of some kind."

"Already knew that, Nate," he replied. "What is it, cold or flu?"

"I don't know. The NIH team that's here could probably tell you quick enough, but I'd recommend you make sure you're getting plenty of liquids, take some aspirin or Tylenol for the fever, and pick up an over-the-counter expectorant to help with that congestion."

Vin nodded. He had plenty of sport drinks with him, and some quick-release Tylenol. Maybe he could run down to the Walgreens on Parker at lunchtime and pick up the cough stuff, and some of the more nose-friendly tissues...

"I'm going to go check in, see how the NIH is doing. You gonna be okay up there today?"

Vin nodded and flashed the man a grin. "Yeah, no problem. Weather's nice enough, and I have a six-pack of Powerade in m' bag to take up with me, some trail mix, too."

Jackson nodded. "Well, you start to feel any worse, give me a call, okay?"

"Yeah," Vin replied, although he had no intention of doing any such thing. He'd just tough it out and try to rest tonight.

Tuesday, 1742 Hours

That evening, Vin lay stretched out on his sofa, watching the local news and thinking back over the day. It had been boring - really, really boring, and completely uneventful. The locals had already begun to return to their regular routines, and much of the news coverage had moved on to other stories. The NIH still continued to search for the missing mice, not that he or anyone else expected them to find the damn things. It was a freakin' big city, and in Purgatory there were plenty of places for the rodents to hide.

He coughed and reached up to rub at his chest. At least he wasn't feeling any worse than he had this morning. Of course, he wasn't feeling any better, either, but he knew better than to dwell on how he was feeling. Better to think about something else and hope that it all went away - as quickly as possible.

Chris and Ezra had tracked down a few of the angry e-mail writers, but so far everyone they had talked to was all bluster, and no bomber.

The analysis of the pipe bomb hadn't turned up anything useful yet, either. And, God knew, these days anyone who wanted to make one could just look up how on the Internet. Vin doubted that was going to get them anywhere, unless whoever was responsible tried again, in which case they would nail his sorry ass and go home. But they rarely got that lucky.

So, it looked like he was going to be stuck babysitting the building for at least a couple more days.

Vin sighed, knowing it could have been worse. At least this way, he got to stay in one place for the majority of the day. And Nathan and Chris were both making sure he had plenty to drink and eat, as well as a variety of medicines to take, although none of them seemed to be helping him all that much.

The aloe-infused tissues had been a godsend, though, not to mention the licorice Larabee had somehow snuck into his bag of supplies. That had cut through the annoying itch and masked it for a little while each time he had eaten one of the little black lumps.

He grinned. Chris always took good care of him.

For a brief moment, he wished he was out at Larabee's ranch, right now. But he didn't want Chris to catch his cold, or whatever the hell it was he was suffering from. Still, he didn't much like being alone when he was hurt or sick, even though he had been for most of his life.

Not that he'd ever admit it to any of the others, but it sometimes made him downright teary when Chris insisted he come out and stay at the ranch until he was on his feet again, even if it meant the man caught his bug as a result.

And whenever that did happen, Vin made damn sure he returned the favor, staying with Larabee until he was feeling better, too. They watched each other's back and that meant a hell of a lot to the sniper, who had spent a large portion of his life feeling alone. With Chris, he didn't feel alone.

"Hell, 'm turnin' into a damn crybaby," he grumbled at himself as he reached up and rubbed the pooling moisture from his eyes. But he honestly did feel blessed to have friends like Chris and Josiah and Nathan and Ezra and Buck and JD...

But especially Chris. And he'd give just about anything if he could tell the man how he really felt, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Because there was no way in hell he would ever risk what he had for sex. Not that he didn't want to make love to Chris; he did. But telling the man he did wasn't worth losing what he had right now. And Vin was sure he would lose it if he told him.

Lying there on the roof today, sweeping the building through the scope on his rifle, he'd noticed that one of the NIH guys looked like he'd caught a cold, too. It was the same man he'd seen in Tolson's, although he hadn't known at the time that he was one of the people the NIH had sent. Poor guy. He'd heard from Josiah at lunch that the man had spent his morning crawling though air ducts in the building, looking for the elusive rodents. That would have just sucked if he'd been feeling anything like the sniper had been at the same time.

Vin coughed again, this time the wet, tearing sound making him wince as it sent shards of pain lancing through his chest. Damn. If he got any worse, he'd have to call in and get Chris to put him on sick leave, something he didn't want to do. It just didn't feel right to him for the team to be out there without him...

He sighed, knowing he ought to get up and go fix himself something for supper - soup, maybe; it was hot and light - but he just didn't have the energy. Another cough tore through his chest, making him moan.

Damn, but he hated being alone when he was feeling like this... He glanced at the phone and considered calling Chris, just to hear his voice, but a knock at his door startled him. Before he could sit up, Chris had used his key to Tanner's apartment to open the lock. He stepped inside, carrying a takeout bag from Tolson's.

"Hey," the blond greeted, a worried frown on his face. "That sounded terrible."

"Didn't feel too good, either," Vin acknowledged, peering at the takeout bag. "Y' picked something up for me?"

"Nope, I was hungry," Chris replied, deadpan, but then he grinned at him. "Yeah, I thought you might like some of Mom's chicken soup."

"Great minds think alike," Vin wheezed, maneuvering into a seated position and watching as Chris went to the kitchen to get the soup ready. He felt his eyes filling again and cursed softly, wondering what in the world was wrong with him. He was turning into some kind of Weepy Wilma.

"You say something?" Larabee called.

"No, nothin'," Vin replied, reaching for a tissue so he could blow his nose and then covertly wipe his eyes before the man returned.

By the time he'd tossed the tissue into the small trashcan he'd moved to the end of the coffee table, Chris was back with a bowl of homemade chicken soup and a sleeve of crackers.

"Here you go," the man said, setting both on the coffee table and then heading back to the kitchen, saying, "You get started on that and I'll make us some coffee, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Vin agreed, reaching for the spoon in the bowl and taking a sip of the tasty broth. "Mmm," he sighed, his eyes closing. He took a bite of the thick noodles, along with a piece of carrot and asked, "Pop's fan still fixed?"

"Yeah, I think so," Chris called from the kitchen. "But he and Mom seem to be coming down with something, too."

"Oh, man, I hope I didn't get them sick," Vin said, looking guilty.

"You eat in there recently?" Chris asked, coming out to sit in the one recliner in Tanner's living room. He was pretty sure the man had gotten it for him, but he could never get Tanner to admit it.

"Uh, yeah, last night," Vin said, then took another bite of the hearty soup. He loved Mrs. Tolson's homemade chicken soup, but his stomach was telling him it really wasn't really hungry after all.

"Can't catch a cold from somebody that fast," Chris assured him.

"I was in there a couple of times last week, too, though, after I'd been exposed t' Kimberly."

Larabee offered him a shrug. "Well, maybe... You feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Vin replied, forcing down another spoonful, but then he stopped as it threatened to come right back up again.

"Vin?" Chris asked, seeing the look of panic that passed through the younger man's eyes.

"Guess I'm not all that hungry," Vin replied. "Sorry."

"You... not eating Mom's chicken soup?"

"Hell, I'm sproutin' feathers here, Larabee," Vin complained, setting the almost-full bowl back on the coffee table and slumping back against the sofa cushion.

Chris stood and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to Tanner and reaching out to press his hand to the sniper's forehead. "Jesus, Vin, you're burning up."

A coughing spasm contorted the sniper's face and he gripped his sides. "You're tellin' me?" he ground out. "Hell, t' be honest, it's been gettin' worse all day. Can't eat, fever's hangin' on, and I hurt all over, too."

Larabee frowned. "Why didn't you call me? Sounds like this might be a flu bug, not a cold."

Vin nodded. "Be just my luck. I just hope everyone else doesn't come down with it, too."

"I'll warn Travis," Larabee said, his frown deepening as he noted the sudden pallor of Vin's face. "I think you better stay home tomorrow. I don't want you around the others until I can get everyone a flu shot... or a cache of anti-virals, Kleenex and cough drops."

"Thanks," Vin rasped, his expression sour. "Your concern's overwhelmin'."

Larabee grinned. "Yeah, well, your crud seems to be worse than anybody else's I've seen. Maybe we ought to call the doctor, get you in to see him tomorrow."

Vin only hesitated long enough to suffer through another series of coughs before he nodded. "Fine. Hand me m' cell 'n' I'll give Chandler a call."

The easy capitulation had Chris feeling glad that he'd suggested a trip to the doctor's office, because if Vin was giving in this easily, he needed to see the man, and as soon as possible. "You call the doc and I'll go see if the coffee's ready. You think you can keep that down, or do you want some tea instead?"

Tanner shook his head. "Rather have the coffee," he said as he surfed down his phone list until he found Chandler's number and let the phone dial for him. A moment later he was speaking to the physician's answering service. After a couple of coughs, he was told to arrive at eight; the doctor would see him first thing in the morning.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," he told the woman.

"No problem," she replied. "You sound terrible. If you need to, you can go to the emergency clinic at Summit any time, and Dr. Chandler will be paged."

"Naw, I should be okay 'til tomorrow mornin'."

"Okay," the woman said, "but if that cough gets any worse, I think you might want to come in."

"All right," Vin said, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

Chris returned and handed him a coffee mug that was almost full. "See if I put enough sugar in that."

Vin tried a sip and nodded. "Thanks."

"So, when do you see him?"

"Tomorrow, at eight," Vin replied.

Larabee sat, sipping his coffee as the news continued to play on Tanner's television. "You know, I think it might be better if you came out to the ranch with me tonight. I can drop you off at the clinic on my way in tomorrow."

Normally Vin would have argued, not wanting to be "a bother," but he really was feeling lousy and he didn't want to face a long night alone and miserable. He nodded, saying, "T' be honest, I was kind 'a hopin' you'd say that."

A ribbon of fear stirred in Larabee's gut when he heard that. It wasn't natural - no arguments, no moaning about everybody trying to mother-hen him, no "I'm fine, damn it," no nothing except the revelation that he'd wanted to go with him to the ranch. Tanner was definitely sicker than he was letting on.

"Okay," Chris said at last. "You finish that coffee and we'll get going."

Vin nodded, hoping he could make it through the night without needing to be taken to the ER. But, quite simply, he felt like shit. He was hot, his chest hurt, his head hurt, his muscles hurt, and his stomach was warning him to set the coffee down - now - or accept the consequences.

He set the cup down, saying, "Probably better if I wait t' have some out at your place."

"Oh... okay," Larabee replied. He set his own cup down and helped Vin to his feet.

They made it halfway to the door before the sniper's hand flew to his mouth and he turned abruptly, hurrying for the bathroom. He just barely made it, too.

Chris stood in the doorway, listening as Tanner's stomach rejected the soup and the coffee. A moment later, Vin raised one hand and waved him out of the room.

Chris pulled the door closed behind him and leaned back against the wall in the hallway, waiting until the sounds of Vin's heaves finally stopped. But the door didn't open, so he resigned himself to waiting. At least twice he moved, reaching for the doorknob, but he stopped short. Vin hated it when someone saw him weak and helpless. Not that he blamed him. He hated it when it happened to him, too. Still, he wanted to know if the man was all right...

"Vin?"

"Give me a minute," was the muted reply.

And Larabee leaned back against the wall again and sighed.

A short time later

"Vin?" Chris called, listening, but not hearing anyone moving around in the bathroom. He was holding a cup of the herbal tea Nathan had given each of them to help settled their upset stomachs. "Vin?"

"Don't want any," was the muffled reply.

Still, the sniper's voice sounded like he was right behind the closed door, and Larabee jumped, spilling several drops of the hot liquid onto his pant leg.

"And don't blame me if y' got wet. Don't think I c'n keep it down. Y' better get out 'a here, too... can't afford for everyone t' get sick just because I am."

"Vin, I want to make sure you're okay," Chris argued, glowering hotly at the closed door; the skin on his leg still burned.

"Feels like I got the flu. Looks like I got the flu. 'N' I'd really like t' just throw-up in peace... alone."

Larabee pursed his lips, but he shook his head and relented. "All right, you win - this time. But I'm just going as far as the living room. If you need me, call me." He set the cup of tea down on the floor outside the bathroom, in case Vin changed his mind, and headed for the recliner in the living room.

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

Tanner waited until he was sure Chris had left, then opened the door and cornered the cup. Scooting back so he was leaning against the wall of the small bathroom, he took a sip, hoping the tea might quell the tempest raging in his gut. But, after two more sips, he was bent over the toilet again, heaving it all back up.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, and it took a moment for him to register the fact that someone was knocking on the bathroom door again. He reached up and flushed the toilet, then dragged himself to his feet and shuffled to the door.

"What d' ya want now, Larabee?"

"It's me, Vin," came Nathan's reply. "Look, I've got Dr. Connor out here. He's from the NIH. We need a sample from you."

Vin opened the door. "Sorry, I was... indisposed," he apologized, noting the doctor was wearing a mask over his nose and mouth. Piercing blue-gray eyes studied him like he was some exotic specimen and he had to fight the urge to squirm.

"Just a precaution," Connor explained, reaching up to touch his mask. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the agent's pale features, his cheekbones accentuated by the bright fever streaks that cut across them. "Is your fever climbing?"

Tanner's eyebrows arched slightly. "Not sure, t' be honest. I was... otherwise occupied."

Connor nodded at the covered toilet and Vin moved back to sit down. The doctor then ran through the same checks Nathan had preformed on him earlier that morning. Finally, he produced a small plastic petri dish about the size of a half-dollar. "I need a sample."

Vin accepted the container, his forehead rippling with concern. "Of what?"

Connor grinned at the scandalized tone of the agent's comment. "Sputum, Agent Tanner." When Vin's expression remained blank, he pointed to the small container. "Cough, and spit the results in there."

Vin made a face.

"You heard the man, cough," Nathan said, punctuating the command with the jabbing point of his finger aimed at Tanner.

Vin complied.

"Very good," Connor said, taking the sample and placing the lid over it. "The analysis should be done in an hour or so. With luck, you're looking at the flu. Your symptoms match. In the meantime, drink lots of liquids, rest, and stay warm. And stay here, too."

"Thanks, Doc," Vin said somewhat sarcastically. His gaze shifted to Larabee, who was leaning against the doorjamb as he added, "This mean I need a full-time babysitter?"

Connor frowned behind his mask and his gaze cut to Larabee. "Yeah, that might not be a bad idea. Can you stay here with him until I call you with the results?" he asked the blond.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Chris replied.

"Gee, thanks, Doc," Vin grumbled as Connor packed up to leave, Nathan already waiting for him out in the hallway. "You're a real friend."

"Go rest. I'll call as soon as I know something," Connor said, turning to leave.

"I'll see you out," Chris said, asking Vin, "You be okay?"

Tanner nodded. "Gonna go t' bed."

Chris escorted Nathan and Connor to the door, then, after checking to see if Vin had done like he'd said, asked, "I called Nathan to come check on Vin, how'd you-?"

"I'd called to ask if anyone on your team was sick," the doctor said, pulling his mask off. "Agent Jackson told me about Agent Tanner and I told him I'd like to come along, see for myself what we're dealing with."

"Why?" Chris asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Connor sighed softly, then met Larabee's gaze, saying, "Because one of my team is sick, too... as well as three of the lab technicians at the facility, and at least four people from the local community."

It took a moment for the reality to register, but when it did, Larabee swallowed hard and said, "It's out there, isn't it."

It wasn't a question, and Connor nodded. "It appears so."

"How?"

"Two of the four mice are still unaccounted for... Evidently one or both managed to get out of the building."

"Are they—?"

"I don't have any answers for you at the moment, Agent Larabee."

"The others who are sick, they have whatever it was the mice were carrying?" Larabee asked.

Connor nodded. "And I'm reasonably sure Agent Tanner does as well, but I won't know for sure until I test this sample. In the meantime, the two of you are officially quarantined in this apartment."

Chris' expression hardened. "Doctor, I have—"

"Nothing to worry about except for your man in there - at least for the time being, Agent Larabee. Now, I need to get back to the lab. If this is what I think it is, I'll call and have you bring him back to the lab later."

Larabee nodded and let the two men go. As he closed the front door, he felt a cold knot of fear begin to tighten in his gut. He walked to Vin's phone and called Josiah.

"Sanchez," the man said when he picked up.

"Josiah, talk to me."

"It's not good, Chris," he said. "Frank Powell, one of the NIH investigators, is sick, and seven locals, too. The NIH was able to determine that it's definitely related to the plague strain the mice were injected with, but it's changed somehow."

"Seven? Connor just said it was four. Who else is sick?" he asked.

"It was four, but three more have been brought in since he and Nathan left to see Vin. The sick include the older couple who own a restaurant not far from the lab, a UPS deliverywoman - we're checking to see if she made a stop at the lab after the mice turned up missing - and two air conditioning repair guys from a shop in Purgatory. Oh, and two students from the technical school down here."

"And Vin..."

"Maybe, but..."

"Yeah..." Chris said on a breath. Tanner had it, too. And that sent an arrow of fear right into his heart. He'd been close to the man from the moment they'd met, and that friendship had only deepened over time. Now it was deep enough that he wasn't sure he could handle losing him...

Tuesday, 2110 Hours

Vin lay on a narrow gurney, staring up at the ceiling of the small exam room in the laboratory. The tiles in the ceiling were all white, two of them water-stained, the patterns reminding him of a pair of manatees. He sighed, wishing someone would hurry up and tell him something.

Running his hand over his face, he sighed again, a little louder, which captured the attention of the other man sitting in the room.

Josiah pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to Vin. "You need something, brother?"

Vin rolled his head to the side and met the man's eyes. "Just gettin' bored," he admitted. "How long can this take?"

The big man chuckled softly. "You know, for a sniper, you have an amazingly low tolerance for waiting."

Vin scowled at the man, but he knew it was true. "Just different, I guess. I hate just layin' here with nothin' t' do... waitin'."

Josiah nodded. "You could try sleeping."

"Tried that," Vin said, a slight grin on his lips, "didn't work."

Josiah grinned back. At least Vin looked a little better than he had when Chris had brought him into the lab a while ago, after the NIH was reasonably sure Tanner had also been exposed to the plague-carrying mice. Some of the paleness might have left Vin's face, but he was obviously not feeling his usual self. "You want me to go see if I can find you a magazine or something?"

"No, thanks, Josiah," Vin said, knowing he didn't feel well enough for that. "Why don't y' tell me what's going on with the mice and all."

"Well, according to the lab guys, the NIH found two of the little beasts in the building this morning sometime," Josiah explained. "But they didn't say where. The, uh, remains of a third were found in the alley between here and the hardware store early this afternoon. Evidentially that one, or maybe the last one, got out of the building and spread the whatever-it-is to a few people."

"Including me," Vin added.

"Yeah, probably you, too."

"Are they... okay?"

"They're all sick, like you, but they're doing okay, as far as I know."

"So they still haven't found that last mouse?"

"I don't think so," Josiah replied.

"And the two they found here in the building?"

Josiah didn't want to, but he said, "They were dead. Succumbed to whatever they had been exposed to."

"Any headway on finding the bomber?" Vin asked, deciding he didn't really want to think too much about what finding the mice dead might mean for him and the others who were sick.

Sanchez shook his head. "Not really, we—" He shopped short when the door was pushed open and Dr. Connor and Chris came in. He could tell by the look on Larabee's face that something was wrong. "We have a problem?" he asked the two men.

"Definitely a problem," Connor replied for Chris. He looked at Vin and quickly averted his gaze, looking back at Josiah instead as he said, "Agent Tanner has definitely been exposed to an engineered virus," he said.

"Great," Vin muttered, reaching for a face mask that was sitting on a rolling tray near his gurney. "Tell me again what this bug is?"

"To be honest, Agent Tanner, we're not sure exactly what it is we're dealing with just yet," Connor said, his tone apologetic and a little annoyed. He ventured a look at Tanner's concerned blue eyes, then tapped the back of a closed medical file against his open palm. "But we do know what it's not."

"And that would be?" Josiah prompted the man.

"It's not a natural bacterial or viral strain of plague. It resembles two of the engineered strains that they have been working on here, but it's not identical to either one of them."

"How is that possible?" Josiah asked, confused.

"That's what we're currently trying to determine," Connor told him. "We're sending samples to our labs in DC, and to the CDC in Atlanta, for further analysis. And the researchers here are trying to determine if this is one of their newest strains, or if it's one that's mutated somehow." He looked back to Vin, adding, "We don't think the strain's actively contagious through human-to-human contact, so you don't have to wear that mask."

"Then he's going to be okay?" Chris asked the doctor.

"To be honest, we can't say yet," Connor replied, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the three men. His gaze came to rest on Vin. "I'm sorry, Agent Tanner, but you've inadvertently become part of an experiment. We're just going to have to wait and see what happens. But I want to keep you here so we can treat this thing as it develops - if it develops."

"That's it?" Larabee asked, clearly unhappy with what he was hearing, and not hearing.

"It's all we can do at this point. But I do need to determine where Agent Tanner became infected." Connor looked back at Vin. "The non-laboratory cases we have so far have one commonality. Mr. Tanner, did you happen to eat at Tolson's Café yesterday evening?"

Vin nodded. "Yeah, I did."

Connor nodded. "Then it seems the café is definitely the source of the contagion," the doctor said. "My man ate there as well, and both Mr. and Mrs. Tolson are also sick, as well as the two men who was working on their air conditioning unit, their waitress from Monday night, a UPS deliverywoman, two students, and a family of four, all of whom also ate there between four and seven p.m."

"Are they all sick like me?" Vin asked him.

"Yes, although some are better, some worse, and the symptoms aren't identical in all of the cases," Connor said, but he did know that they were all getting sicker by the hour and, so far, he and his team hadn't been able to come up with a single thing that looked like it might help.

"What happens now?" Vin asked him.

"Now we get you moved into a more comfortable bed," Dr. Connor said. "We'll get you started on an IV so you don't get dehydrated, too. And you try to get some rest."

"Easier said than done, Doc," Tanner replied.

The man nodded, the expression in his eyes sympathetic. But then, he had a man who was sick, too. Vin's gaze slipped past the doctor to meet Larabee's eyes.

"Is there anything we can do?" Chris asked Connor.

"Just make sure nobody blows up the building before we get this figured out," the man replied.

"Count on it," Larabee told him.

Connor left, Josiah behind him, leaving Chris and Vin alone.

"How are you feeling?" Chris asked his friend.

Vin sighed and replied, "Better 'n before, but, t' tell y' the truth, I feel like crap."

Chris nodded, stepping forward to rest his hand on Tanner's shoulder. "The IV should help some."

Vin nodded, more grateful than he expected for the man's presence. "Don't y' think y' should get home, get some rest?"

Chris shook his head. "Already talked to the facilities people here. They're setting up a cot in the room they're moving you to."

"Hell, Chris, y' don't have t' do that."

"Yeah, I know," Larabee replied. "But I want to stay."

Vin nodded, his eyes beginning to sting. "T' tell y' the truth, I'd appreciate it."

Chris squeezed the man's shoulder, wishing he didn't have such a bad feeling about what was coming.

Wednesday, 0804 Hours

"Mr. Larabee, agents, please, take a seat," an NIH doctor said, motioning to the large conference table nearly filling the meeting room at the lab. Walking around to an overhead projector positioned at one end of the oval table, she turned on the motor and the light, waiting for the agents to get settled before she continued.

Chris studied the woman as he waited for his men, Connor, and another younger man he hadn't met before to take their seats. Dr. Natalie Durant was petite, with long, dark-blonde hair and caring eyes. She was also efficient and somewhat clipped in her speech.

Opening a file folder, Durant pulled out a plastic overhead sheet and laid it on the glass plate, casting the image onto the screen behind her. "We believe that this is the primary organism we're dealing with," she began. "I've never seen anything like it before, and neither has anyone at the NIH or the CDC. Our initial analysis was correct; it's a genetically constructed organism."

"What kind of organism?" Chris asked, knowing he wasn't up to a long-winded presentation that was full of medical or scientific jargon.

"That's the interesting part," she replied. "It appears to be a multi-hybrid, exhibiting properties of at least three other organisms. However, we have managed to nail down some of the details. It's a virus, on the outside, anyway. But the genetic makeup on the inside looks more like yersinia pestis. However, there's enough viral RNA present as well to make me nervous."

"But I thought you said earlier that the preliminary tests you ran pointed to an engineered staphylococcus," Nathan said, suddenly confused.

"I know," Durant replied, pulling the transparency off and replacing it with another. "Our work supports that as well. That's what tipped us off to this being a recombinant organism." She switched the plates. "This is the result of one electrophoresis we ran."

"It matches what we'd expect to see for a staph organism," Dr. Connor confirmed.

Durant pulled that transparency off and slid on a third. "But this is the same sample, fifteen hours later."

"But that's impossible, isn't it?" Nathan asked, shaking his head and wondering if he was remembering his classes correctly.

Larabee gave Jackson an appraising look. "Why? I don't understand."

"Because that's what we'd expect to see if we were dealing with a gram-negative rod bacteria," Dr. Connor explained.

"Exactly." Durant put another transparency on. "And this indicates the presence of a retrovirus..." Another transparency. "...and this one yersinia pestis, but all of these results came from the same sample." Dr. Durant leaned forward, resting her palms on the smooth, blond wood tabletop. "The only difference is time."

"If the genetic structure is an unstable recombination, that might explain the results," the young man sitting next to Dr. Connor said.

"Gentlemen," Connor said, realizing that the agents hadn't met the man before now, "this is Dr. Miles McCabe, another member of my team."

"This thing is completely unpredictable," Natalie summed up.

"Every sample we've run - from each of the patients we have - progresses at a different rate of recombination," Miles added. "And every sample is uniquely sensitive to changes in the external environmental chemistry. There's only one common feature that we've found so far."

"I don't think I want to hear this," Nathan said, frowning and shaking his head.

"What?" Chris prompted.

"None of the samples are susceptible to standard antibiotic regimens of treatment," Dr. McCabe concluded.

Jackson slumped back in his chair. "That's just great."

"What does this all mean?" Chris asked, trying not to sound angry, but he could remember what Vin had looked like when he'd seen him less than an hour ago, Tanner's face damp with sweat, the man wheezing slightly with each breath he took. "Where do we go from here?"

"It means that we don't have an effective method of treatment at this time," Dr. Durant explained, her voice full of sympathy.

"How many people are going to get sick?" JD asked, looking at the doctors.

"We don't know. There's still one mouse unaccounted for," Dr. Durant said.

"Although it's probably dead by now," Miles added.

"We've identified fourteen active cases, so far," Connor told them.

"Seventeen," Dr. McCabe corrected him, adding, "And, of that group, we've already seen a mortality rate of a third."

"People have already died?" Buck asked, looking more than a little worried.

McCabe nodded.

"Pneumonia is the official cause of death that's being listed on the death certificates," Dr. Durant said, "but the autopsies are turning up organisms that are related to these." She tapped the transparency.

"Will more people get sick?" Nathan asked the doctors.

"We don't think so," Connor replied. "All of the cases so far were exposed here in the laboratory or in Tolson's Café Monday evening."

"So what do we do?" Chris demanded again.

"As I see it, there are two possible approaches," Durant said, turning off the overhead light and taking a seat at the table. "We can try to find something that will target the external biology of the organism - something we might be able to use as an inhibitor, or a vaccine - or we can look for specific drugs to attack each of the variants we find."

"Which approach do you think would be best overall?" Larabee asked, wishing he understood more of what the scientists were saying.

"Targeting the external molecular structure," McCabe said. "That would give us the best chance at finding a way to inoculate people against this, or treat it. And the external structure is the only constant we've seen across the samples."

Durant nodded. It was what she had concluded, too, but she felt compelled to toss out as many possibilities as she could. "If this spreads, or the mutations continue at the same rate we've been seeing, God only knows what we could be dealing with several weeks down the road. We have to stop this thing, now, before it has a chance to mutate to the extent that we see an external structural shift, or it starts to spread human-to-human, which is something we haven't seen so far."

Connor gave a curt nod. "Then that's how we'll proceed."

"Wait," Nathan interrupted. "I agree that you have to develop this line of research, immediately, but what about those who are already infected; don't you have to take it case-by-case, too? I mean, it sounds like it's the organism, not the individual infected, that's critical in determining mortality."

"Translation?" Larabee requested curtly.

"It doesn't matter what kind of shape the victim's in," Connor supplied. "If the organism mutates in a particularly deleterious direction, he or she'll die."

Durant nodded. "Of the seventeen cases we've identified, five have already died." She glanced down at an open file folder. "Seven have relatively mild symptoms. The mutations they're dealing with are not particularly dangerous; they essentially have a nasty case of the flu. Not fun, but not deadly. But we're looking at five cases where I suspect we're going to see some deaths if we can't find something to target the specific mutations."

"Vin?" Chris asked.

"In that last category," Dr. McCabe replied, "just like our team member, the seventeen-year-old waitress from the café, a college student, and a thirty-three-year-old mother."

"My God," Josiah breathed, running his hand over his graying hair. "Can it be done in time?"

"I hope so," Dr. Durant replied. "We're working around the clock on the individual cases we think are the most critical."

"The problem is, we don't really know what the side effects are going to be," McCabe added, deciding that these men needed to know what their friend was facing. "We can't treat these people in hopes of heading off something, because we have no idea where the mutations will eventually lead. We have to wait and treat whatever comes up, and, in a couple of cases, these things are churning out toxins we haven't been able to identify yet. We have no way of predicting what the results of exposure will be until it manifests in the patients, and by then it could be too late."

"I'm sure you understand, but the emphasis has to be on finding a way to combat this thing across the population," Dr. Connor said.

"But we don't want to sacrifice those people who've already been exposed," Durant added quickly. "There haven't been any new cases reported in the past twelve hours, although there are still two patrons unaccounted for, so we're hoping there won't be any additional cases beyond those two missing men."

One of the security guards stepped into the room, saying, "Agent Larabee, we have a report of a suspicious vehicle outside, sir."

The ATF agents rose from the table, following the man out, Larabee already issuing orders as they went. The three members of the NIH team watched them go.

Wednesday, noon

"Doctor," Larabee said, stepping into the small office Connor had been given to use.

"Building still secure?" the man asked, looking up from the lab results he had been reviewing.

"Yeah, it was a couple of local activists who'd decided the lab was recruiting illegal aliens for experiments."

Connor shook his head. "I seriously doubt it. That's probably a result of the fact that three of the sick are illegal."

"How's Vin?" the blond asked.

The doctor looked up and sighed softly. "The organism is producing a toxin we haven't been able to identify... It could trigger any number of unexpected reactions... We're keeping a close eye on him, and other others."

Larabee's jaw twitched with the frustration he felt. "I heard we lost two more."

Connor nodded. "One of my team located the last two patrons we wanted to find - two long-haul truck drivers. They both died sometime late last night."

"Do you think you can come up with something to fight this thing?"

"We'll do our best," Connor promised him. "Frank Powell is one of my best friends... I know what you're feeling, Agent Larabee."

"Chris," he replied, unable to think of a single thing to say.

"We are doing our best, Chris."

Larabee looked away, nodding. These people would do everything they could for Vin and the others, he knew that. All he could do now was wait... and pray.

Thursday, 0815 Hours

Vin sat in the small, private room he'd been given, reviewing some of the evidence and data other members of the team had collected. He'd pulled the single chair in the room over to the window earlier - away from the small hospital bed - then maneuvered the rolling tray that had been positioned next to the bed over as well. That had given him the surface space he needed to open the file folders Josiah had dropped off.

He doubted he would actually find anything the others had missed, but he refused to take chances with the team's security. Besides, it helped keep him busy and passed the time.

Rubbing absently at his ever-tightening chest, he closed one file and opened another, skimming over the information he found there.

He reached the end of the small stack of folders a short time later, still not having seen anything worth mentioning. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

At this rate, they might never determine who had tried to bomb the laboratory Monday morning. Looking back now, it felt like that had been months ago, but it had only been days. Vin glanced at the dark television sitting in the corner of the room, but he didn't feel like watching the news anymore. That just left...

He sighed heavily and reached for the pad of paper and the pen he'd asked Dr. Connor for when the doctor had dropped in to check on him earlier. Pen in hand, he began to write.

He'd only trust the overall safety of Team Seven to someone he knew and respected. If Benny Ray or Alex weren't available... well, then, Travis would just have to pull a few strings and get one of the two men reassigned to the ATF. No one else would do.

He coughed, the shock sending a sharp, tearing pain slicing through his chest and shoulders. It was getting worse, just like the doc had warned him it would.

Dr. Connor hadn't pulled any punches when he'd talked to Vin privately that morning. The damn bug he'd caught was churning out some kind of toxin and, sooner or later, it would kill him if they couldn't find a way to destroy the damn thing.

And things weren't going all that well for the NIH team - something about mutations and a bunch of other scientific gobbledygook he couldn't follow, but he'd gotten the underlying meaning clear enough: In all likelihood, he was going to die.

He read over what he'd written and then signed the bottom of the page. Everything he could do to ensure the survival and continued smooth operation of Team Seven had been accomplished. That just left the personal stuff...

He folded the first page back and starting writing again. It took him the better part of an hour before he was finished, but then he leaned back and sighed softly. He'd still have to have a few talks before he got too sick and the doctors forced him into the bed, probably for good.

He took a sip from the cup of juice sitting on the rolling table and then reread his words, making a few changes here and there and then signing it at the end as he had the first page.

As he laid the pen aside, a sudden chill wrapped around Vin's shoulders. He wasn't a superstitious man, but completing a will did give you a sense of your mortality, and the old saying about ghosts walking over graves echoed in the back of his mind.

Except for the... human elements, he was ready now, just in case... And once those were taken care of... He huffed out a breath and shook his head, then leaned back in his chair and let his eyes drop closed. Damn, but this was going to be hard, and he was already tired, more tired than he let on around the others. But he knew he had to say good-bye to them - to each one of them. They were his friends, his brothers... his family. But that didn't mean he was looking forward to it, not in the slightest.

All in all, he figured the conversations might just be among the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life.

The door cracked open and the sniper's eyes opened and he sat forward again to meet whatever was coming next.

"Mr. Tanner?" Dr. Connor called as he entered, drawing the door shut behind him, but not closing it completely. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just tired."

"I've have some news."

Vin studied the man for a moment. "Don't look like it's good news, Doc."

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

Chris paused outside the door to Vin's room when he heard the sniper say, "Don't look like it's good news, Doc."

He swallowed hard, his body refusing to move as he continued to listen.

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

The NIH doctor walked over and leaned back against the wall next to the window. "No, I'm afraid it isn't. We've finally got a handle on the toxin."

"Isn't that good?"

"Yes and no. We still don't know how to stop the virus... the toxin, really..." Connor sighed heavily and Vin realized that this wasn't easy for the man. Like Chris, he was probably used to winning most the fights he ended up in, and this one looked to be one that was going to defeat him. "Well, to cut to the chase, eventually the part of your brain that controls your autonomic breathing is going to fail."

Vin's eyebrows climbed slightly. "Y' mean it won't be like pneumonia then, with fluid buildin' up in m' lungs?"

"No," Connor said. "There will be some fluid buildup, but it'll gradually just become harder and harder to breathe as the connection between the brain and the lungs is blocked or broken down - we're unsure which it is right now - then you'll pass out from the lack of oxygen and—"

"Die," Vin finished for him, glancing down at his handwritten will. "Funny," he said quietly.

"What's that?"

"Sounds more peaceful than the majority 'a ways I imagined I'd go out." He gave the doctor a thin smile. "Sorry. Guess I'm still not used t' the idea."

"It's not easy," Connor agreed, his expression sympathetic. "I understand. And we're not giving up. One of my best friends is lying in the room next door, and he's facing the same thing you are. We're going to do everything we can to make sure you both survive this. I give you my word on that."

"I know y' are," Vin said with a nod. "What kind 'a time am I lookin' at?"

Connor sighed again and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't want to explain the details, but he knew he didn't really have a choice. Vin, like Frank, deserved to know the truth of what he was facing, which was why he'd decided to break the bad news to Tanner first. Because, quite honestly, he wasn't sure he could do the same for Frank. But this was his job, and by telling Vin, he was being forced to face Frank's future prognosis as well, although that didn't sit well with him. He ground his teeth together and steeled himself before he said, "At the current rate of replication, we're looking at the toxin reaching a critical level in seventy-two hours or so. If we can come up with something that retards that rate, we'll be able to buy a little more time."

"When do I need t' get my good-byes said by?"

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

That simple question struck Chris like a blow from a baseball bat. He couldn't be hearing this. Vin couldn't die, not now, not like this. But the doctor's next words told him it was an all-too-real possibility.

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

"My best guess," Connor replied, adding quickly, "and that's all it is at this point, would be that you'll need to begin supplemental oxygen sometime in the next twenty-four hours. It'll get progressively worse from that point on."

Vin nodded. "Guess I'll need to get things wrapped up today, then."

Connor nodded. He was sure Frank would tell him basically the same thing. "I'm, uh, going to get back to the lab. Don't give away the family fortune just yet, though, okay? We've got a handle on the toxin now, and you can count that as a win for our side. All we need is a way to inhibit it, or its action."

The smile was genuine as Vin stood and accompanied Connor to the door. "Hell, Doc, I don't own anything worth givin' away, but I'll keep what I've got - for a little while, anyway. Oh, and tell Dr. McCabe and that pretty lady doctor if they don't get some rest pretty soon, they aren't doing be able t' help anyone; you, either."

That prompted a small smile from Connor. "We'll rest when we get this thing figured out. Right now, I want you to get some rest, okay?"

Vin chuffed out a weak laugh. "Hell, Doc, I'll rest when I'm dead."

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

When I'm dead... Chris opened his mouth, ready to tell Vin he was wrong, that he wasn't going to die, that he needed to get his goddamn ass into that goddamn bed and do whatever the hell the doctors told him to do, but he couldn't.

He couldn't speak. He could barely breathe.

His eyes beginning to sting, he turned and hurried away as the door began to open.

He couldn't do this again... he just couldn't.

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

Connor winced at the man's words.

"Sorry," Vin apologized, wondering why he didn't feel more afraid than he did. It wasn't like he thought they would find a way to fight this thing in time; he didn't.

But he also knew he wouldn't be dying alone. Chris and the others would be there for him, and that gave him more courage than he'd ever expected.

A short while later

Watching the elevator doors slide closed, Dr. Stephen Connor let his building frustration bubble up and he slammed the edge of his fist against the wall of the car. It wasn't fair. He had watched Natalie, Miles and Eva working like maniacs the past three days. Not to mention Larabee, who was wearing a rut into the floor between the man's borrowed command center and the labs the NIH had taken over for their work. And despite the brave masks they were all wearing, they all knew the truth: their friends were dying faster than they were finding or developing ways to stop it.

Reaching the basement, Stephen exited and headed back to Lab 3, where Natalie sat hunched over her microscope. Miles sat in one corner of the room, tapping away on a borrowed computer that was connected to the NIH's machines via a secure line.

Miles looked up as Connor entered. "Stephen, great. I'm going to go check in on the patients while this all downloads."

Connor nodded and watched as the younger man brushed past him, disappearing out the door.

When McCabe was gone, he walked up behind Natalie and rested his hands on her shoulders. He could feel the tension knotting her muscles and gently worked his fingers into the hard cords.

She sat up straighter and let her eyes drop closed. "That feels so good," she said quietly. "I'm so tired."

"I know, and I'm glad it feels good," he replied with a small smile. He was still surprised by how quickly they had become friends. Natalie Durant was bright, caring, dedicated... He reached around and gave her a hug, feeling her press back against him, her head cocking to the side so she could rest it against his shoulder. "I talked with Frank and Agent Tanner," he said softly.

"And?" she whispered.

"They understood... said they'd get things wrapped up today, just in case. They're both so damn practical about it. I wanted to just..." He let her go and stepped around to take a seat on the stool next to hers. "How's it going?" he asked, needing to change the subject.

Straightening, she rubbed her eyes and shook her head. "The same. I haven't found anything that effectively inhibits the toxin, and the overall growth rates are still completely erratic."

"We'll find something," he reassured her, hoping it came out as positive as he'd wanted it to. Both men's chances were slim, and they both knew it, but they had to believe there was a reason to keep going like this. "Is the NIH group making any progress on deciphering the organism's genetic components?"

"I don't think it's going to come soon enough," Durant said, her eyes filling with tears. "Stephen, what are we going to do? Frank..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly.

"I don't know," Stephen replied softly, reaching out to take her hands in his. "We just keep working, and hope... Hope we can force a breakthrough in time."

"Agent Jackson was down here a few minutes ago... The ATF team, they're all... close, it seems."

"Like us," Dr. Connor replied with a nod.

"I don't want either of us to lose someone. Not now. Not like this."

Connor nodded. "Then it's time for us to get back to work." He stood. "But Agent Tanner told me to tell you and Miles not to overdo it. That it wasn't going to help Frank, or him."

She nodded. "He's very sweet. I'll try to catch a nap after I finish this series."

"All right," Connor said, heading for his own workspace. "I'm going to hold you to that."

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

As soon as Dr. Conner left, Vin slumped back in his chair, but he knew he was too tired to stay there. Grabbing his half-finished juice, he pushed the rolling table back over to the bed and lay down, using the controls to raise the head so he could basically sit up.

Leaning over, he pulled the rolling table closer, then picked up his pen and jotted down a list of the people he needed to talk to or call.

He snorted to himself when he was done. Like he didn't know who he needed to talk to? Hell, they were almost all right here... somewhere.

He frowned. Maybe be ought to start with the phone calls...

"No time like the present, they say," he muttered to himself as he picked up his cell phone off the nightstand next to the bed and punched in the number to the ATF offices. "Hi, Linda," he said when their admin assistant answered, "it's Vin. I have some paperwork that needs t' be picked up and processed ASAP."

"I'll send someone right over," she replied. "And... Well, we're all praying for you, Vin."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, but these NIH docs here are pretty smart, they'll come up with something."

"We all hope so. And I'll send someone over right away."

"Thanks," Vin said again. He ended the call and sagged back against his pillows, his strength failing him.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, watching as the seconds ticked off, marveling at how fast they sped past. Then he really noticed the time: 11:27. Where were the others? Where was Chris? He'd said he would stop by this morning...

But then again, maybe he ought to be glad no one was there with him. He knew it bugged the others to see him like this, and he couldn't blame them. It bothered him, too.

God, but he hated just lying here, waiting to die.

This wasn't at all how he'd imagined it would be. Going out in a burst of gunfire? Sure. Caught in an explosion? Maybe. Car accident? Probable, given the way people were driving these days. Hell, even in a neighborhood drive-by, or a robbery, but not from some goddamn engineered plague his own government had let get out to kill him. That just wasn't right... Not right at all.

Thursday, 1257 Hours

Buck walked into the lab's cafeteria and headed directly for the coffeepots. After a cup was corralled, he perused the offerings and settled on cereal. Even the government couldn't botch Fruit Loops. Locating a bowl, a spoon, and two cartons of milk, he picked out three different boxes of the cereal, piled it all on a tray, and headed over to where Chris sat, staring dejectedly into his half-full coffee cup.

"Hey, stud, this where you've been hiding?"

Chris looked up, startled by the interruption. "Something wrong?"

Buck shook his head as he arranged his food on the table and then slid the empty tray onto an empty table next to them.

Larabee's expression hardened as he watched the man's actions.

"Chris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Well, I gotta tell ya, that's the most serious 'nothing' I've seen in a long, long time." He emptied the first small box of cereal into his bowl and added some milk.

Green eyes shifted from the bowl to his friend. Buck could always pull him out of the pits of self-pity Chris built for himself. "Sorry," he said. "I just wish there was something, anything, I could do to help Vin... I hate feeling useless."

Munching on his Fruit Loops, Buck argued, "You're not useless, Chris. This is just a... specialized problem. Not like any of us can do anything for Vin. But, at least we're keeping the facility safe, making sure the doctors can concentrate on what they need to do, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Larabee replied tiredly. "But Christ, Buck, it just isn't right, you know? Vin brought down by a damn mouse?"

"You been in to see him yet this morning?"

Larabee pushed his cup away. "I stopped by earlier, but he was... busy."

Finishing off the last of the cereal from the first box, Buck took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. It wasn't even close to what he'd reasonably call tolerable. "Oh?"

Chris shrugged. "I could've stayed, but..."

"He wanted to be alone?"

"I- I don't know..." Larabee shook his head. "It hurt, Buck," he said, his eyes searching the ladies' man's for understanding. "It hurt to be there, listening to it getting harder and harder for him to breathe..." He trailed off, reaching out and taking the cup again, spinning it around several times on the tabletop. "Am I being selfish?"

Buck's lips compressed as he thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. It's not easy for any of us, Chris. Guess we've all gotten attached to that... damn scruffy Texan." He slid his own coffee cup over next to Larabee's once again abandoned one. "It's not the way any of us expected him to die."

"And we're writing him off, aren't we?"

"No! Well, maybe... I guess... Come on, Chris, it's just natural. It hurts, and no one likes pain. But I do know we're all busting our backsides to make sure those NIH guys can find a cure in time. We're not letting him go without a fight, Chris, I can promise you that. And you better not, either. He needs you; you know he does."

"Yeah... I know. And you're right," Larabee said, his voice laced with determination. "We're not gonna give up on him." He pushed his chair back and stood. "I'm going to go talk with Vin."

Buck nodded, a small, sad smile on his lips as he watched Larabee leave. He had a bad feeling about all this, and he was desperately afraid that if they lost Vin, they'd lose Chris, too.

He wasn't sure exactly why that was the case, but he had his suspicions.

At the same time...

Vin looked up when the knock sounded on his closed door. "Yeah," he called.

Nathan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "You have some paperwork to send back to the office?" he asked, looking more than a little confused.

Vin nodded, pointing to the file folders and the few sheets of paper lying on top, folded in half to conceal the contents.

Nathan reached out and scooped them all up. "How're you feelin'?" he asked Vin.

"To tell y' the truth, Nate... lousy."

The man eased uncomfortably into the empty chair. "Something wrong, Vin?"

Tanner managed a small grim. "You know damn well what's wrong."

Jackson nodded sadly. Oh, yeah, he knew.

"I don't know how t' explain it-"

"It's bad, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

Vin nodded once. "Looks like m' luck's finally run out."

Nathan glanced away, absently rubbing one thumb under his watchband. "Never thought it'd happen, y'know? Not to you, anyway."

Vin snorted. "Thought y' said I was the one Ezra had at even money t' be the first t' check out?"

Nathan looked back, meeting his friend's gaze. "You know I hate that stupid death pool."

"Yeah, I know, but it helps t'... pass the time."

"Bullshit," Jackson replied, his gaze returning to the floor. "Hell, Vin, it isn't any easier for me to think about one of you guys gettin' killed out there."

"I know... Damn it," Vin said, pushing himself up a little farther in his bed. "Guess that's the point, though, isn't it? It was supposed to be out there. It was supposed to mean something."

Nathan looked up at the man - the friend - he'd known for over five years now. And over that time, he'd watched Tanner grow into one of the best agents he'd ever known. And Vin was right, a man like him was supposed to go out in the middle of a firefight, saving his team...

The Black man's head bobbed slightly. "Yeah, guess I'd have to say we all feel like that. But you can't give up yet, Vin," he added quietly, afraid if he spoke any louder his voice might catch on the lump in his throat.

"Ain't givin' up," Vin said, the conviction clear in his voice. "Ain't never gave up before, and I'm sure as hell not goin' t' start now."

Tanner stuck out his hand and Nathan stood to take it in his. They shook, and the former medic took a step back. "You're gonna lick this thing, y' hear me?"

Vin grinned slightly. "Yeah, I hear y'... but if I can't..."

"Then I guess this is good-bye," Nathan finished for him.

"Thanks," Vin said, his eyes getting a little watery. "Really enjoyed workin' with y', Nate."

"Same here, Vin," Nathan replied, then he leaned forward, giving the man a brief but heartfelt hug before he took the files and headed for the door, exiting without looking back, closing it behind him.

Vin smiled sadly. He'd hoped to see Nathan and Raine have their first child, maybe get to be a godfather, or an honorary uncle... Well, maybe he still would, but he was starting to doubt it.

Thursday, 1410 Hours

The next knock he heard was unexpected, and Vin looked up from where he was leaning over, resting his weight on the rolling table, his head resting on his folded arms. Sometime during the day, he'd made his peace with dying and even decided on what he wanted when it came to his funeral, which he'd written down and then given to Josiah, who he knew would see to it that his wishes were carried out. That had also given him a chance to make his peace with the big man.

Josiah had ended the conversation with a big, heartfelt hug that had left him feeling better than he had in a day.

In fact, he'd felt good enough after that to walk out and talk briefly to the NIH scientists, thanking them for all they were doing to try and save him. But now he was tired and aching, and his friends were hurting, but there wasn't a damned thing he could do about any of it.

It was also getting harder and harder to breathe. "Who is it?" he called as best he could.

"It's me, Vin."

"Come on in," he replied, wishing he could put off this talk with Chris, but there was no reason to postpone it. He'd have to talk to the rest of them, and soon, too. Still, this one would be particularly difficult, since he had to exact a promise from the man he'd come to call his best friend and his brother. One he knew the man wasn't going to want to make.

Larabee entered the room and closed the door behind him. Taking the chair, he carried it over to Vin's bed and sat down. "You look terrible," he said, trying to smile.

"Feel terrible," Vin replied honestly, not finding any reason to keep up the front any longer.

"Maybe you should rest, then," Chris suggested, feeling the palms of his hands getting moist. He forced the fear back as he waited for the sniper's reply, part of him wanting the man to spare him this.

Tanner nodded. "Seems like a waste 'a the time I got left, y' know?"

Chris pressed back against the chair, suddenly cold all over. If Vin was talking like this, he was faring much worse than he looked, and that was bad enough. "Vin..." he said, trailing off.

"Hell, Chris, I know this ain't easy on any 'a ya."

Larabee shook his head, unable to speak.

"'M sorry 'bout that, I really am, but I still got t' ask y'... when m' replacement gets here, give the man a chance, okay?"

Larabee folded his arms across his chest and scowled. Then he snorted and shook his head. "Vin, we don't need a replacement. You'll-"

"Chris, y' know as well as I do 'm most likely gonna die." There, he had said it. Neither man could deny it, or ignore it, any more.

Chris clamped his mouth shut, his jaw grinding. Vin was right; he was probably going to lie right there in that bed and die. "I'll do my best," he promised, but he knew it was a lie. If Vin died, so did Team Seven. None of them would have the heart to go on without him. He knew for a fact he couldn't. In fact, he didn't honestly think he could lose Vin and survive at all... It was too much. God, or fate, or whatever it was out there pulling the puppet strings had taken too much from him; he just didn't have anymore to give.

"Thanks," Tanner said, his mouth tipping into a grin. "Don't know who I feel sorriest for, though, t' tell y' the truth."

The jolt of annoyance forced Chris back into the moment. His eyes twinkled slightly and a thin grin forced its way onto his face, but it faded just as swiftly when the sniper grew serious again.

"Chris, have t' ask y' another favor..."

"Name it," he replied softly, hoping the growing lump in his throat didn't choke him to death right there where he sat. He watched as Vin fought for a breath and stood, reaching out, his hand closing over Tanner's.

"When it gets... t' the point where there's... no hope—"

"Vin—"

"Let me finish, damn it," Vin said, blue eyes locking on Larabee's green, the intensity of the man's stare silencing the blond. "When that happens... I want y' t' take me outside... Take me someplace away from... labs 'n' hospitals 'n' cities 'n' cars... I don't want t' die... stuck in some damn... sickroom."

Chris hesitated, wondering if he could actually carry out the man's request. To take Tanner out of the hospital meant he'd have to accept the fact Vin Tanner was dying, that they couldn't save him, that he'd lost someone else he cared about... Someone he loved.

"I'll try," he whispered, then drew a deep breath and said more forcefully, "But not until we've exhausted every possible option. I know we can beat this. We have to."

"'Kay," Vin said with a nod, knowing he was asking a hell of a lot from the man, and he'd gotten what he needed. "I'll know when... 'n'... so will you."

A knock interrupted the two men and Vin called, "Come in."

A technician opened the door and, noting the angry, frustrated look on the blond's face as he stood at Vin's bedside, she said, "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," and ducked back out again.

Chris sighed, all the words he'd managed to claw together in his mind scattered once again. He looked back at Vin, and all he could think to say was, "Dr. Durant warned me they'd need some more blood samples. Guess that's what she was here for."

"Great," Vin growled. "Already feels like... I been... chewed on by vampires."

Larabee reached out and patted Tanner's shoulder sympathetically. "Could be worse, ya know."

"Oh? How?"

"She could be asking for—"

"Don't even say it," Vin managed, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. It was quickly replaced with relief, and Chris realized they had returned to "normal" for a moment. But it was just a moment. The technician knocked and entered this time, pushing a cart in front of her.

"Can y' stay?" Vin asked quietly, a touch of fear creeping into his eyes.

"Yeah, I can stay," Chris replied. And he stood there, keeping his hold on Vin's hand while the woman took her samples. As he did, he found himself becoming acutely aware of the feel of the man's hand. A part of his mind wondered what it would feel like to touch more, but he quickly pushed those thought away.

Thursday, 1616 Hours

With a sigh, Vin pressed the button on the television remote, scanning through the cable stations for a third time, then cut the power and slid the control onto the bedside table. He hated inactivity. He hated hospitals. He hated needles, and being poked, prodded, pricked, palpated, and pressed for information about how he felt.

He felt lousy, and anyone with eyes could see that just fine all by themselves. He was wheezing loudly, his chest hurt, his body ached, and he was feverish when he wasn't enjoying a nasty case of the chills. To top it all off, a persistent nausea had set in, making it impossible for him to drink anything hot, which seemed to be the only thing anyone had found that helped the constriction in his chest.

JD had come by earlier to cheer him up, and they had ended up talking for two hours. It was the younger man's way of saying good-bye, and Vin appreciated the casual but heartfelt approach. Buck had finally called, asking JD to come down to the command center to look at some data they had on their latest round of suspects.

They had shaken hands, and JD had started out, saying, "Hang in there, Vin. If anyone can work miracles, it's this team."

That had been over two hours ago. He had expected somebody to drop by and give him an update on what was happening, but they were, no doubt, too busy. Still, despite his best efforts, he was annoyed. He didn't want to be alone right now.

And wasn't that was a new feeling for him? It scared him.

He pulled the blanket up farther, sensing a chill beginning. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the trembling, the cold and the ache that squeezed through his bones. The whisk of the door opening cracked his eyes back open.

Dr. McCabe gave him an assessing once-over and headed straight for the bed. "Vin?"

"I'm... o-okay," he said through chattering teeth. "J-just... c-c-chills... 'M c-c-cold."

Reaching to the foot of the bed, the doctor pulled up a second blanket, tucking it in around him.

"T-thanks..."

"No problem," he said, reaching out and pressing his hand to Tanner's cheek. "Your fever's still up."

Vin nodded.

"Does it feel like it's getting worse?"

"Yeah," was the blunt but honest reply.

McCabe looked away, his lips pressing together in frustration. "They told you we've isolated the toxin, right?"

Vin nodded again.

"Well, Dr. Durant has come up with several possible inhibitors that we're trying out, but nothing's working well enough to test it on you."

"Why?"

McCabe stopped, shaking his head in frustration. "We don't know, especially since the toxin only varies slightly as the organism mutates."

"You're l-losin' me here, Doc."

"We have to be careful, Vin, the inhibitors are also toxic in high dosages."

Vin gave him a wan smile. "Rock 'n' a h-hard spot, huh?"

McCabe nodded. "We'll figure it out. Dr. Durant is an amazing scientist, and the people at the NIH are working around the clock."

"'M countin' on it."

"The team working on the capsid thinks—" He stopped, knowing he wasn't making sense to the man.

"How's everybody doin'?" Vin asked him.

"We lost the two students," he admitted. "The woman who works for UPS is hanging in there..."

"That's g-good news... 'n' your f-friend?"

The doctor's expression grew taut. "He's hanging in there, but it doesn't look good. We're doing everything we can..."

"I know that... 'n' so does h-he."

McCabe looked down at his watch. "I have to go, okay?"

Vin nodded reluctantly.

"Besides, Agent Larabee's waiting outside." He reached out and patted Vin's shoulder. "We're going to beat this, Vin."

"Then y' better get b-b-back t' w-work."

He nodded. "Hang in there with us."

"I'll try," was the whispered reply.

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

With Chris there with him, the time passed a little quicker, but the constant ache deep in his muscles and joints, coupled with an increasing difficulty in breathing, chewed away at his strength and his will. He was grateful for the company, more grateful than he could explain.

It was hard, waiting for death, especially after having fought against it so often in the past. The shadow of death, of his own mortality, had clung to the corners of his life, always present, always visible, if just from the corner of his eye.

But he'd expected it to descend upon him quickly. A shot, an explosion... an instant of pain and regret, and then the welcoming light he'd heard his grandfather describe. Not this.

Not slow.

Not helpless.

He could sense his body shutting down, and more pieces of machinery had been added to the collection around his bed, picking up the functions his body was being stripped of. Oxygen had been added, too, taking the harsh edge off his labored breathing, but it was only a matter of time, and he knew it.

He glanced over at Chris, who had dropped off to sleep sometime earlier. The man's dark blond hair was disheveled, and dark smudges filled the hollows beneath his eyes. It hurt to see him looking like that, but there was nothing Vin could do about it, and he needed Chris there.

A soft knock sounded in the room, barely discernable over the din of the equipment, but he'd been waiting for it. "Chris," he called softly.

"Huh?" Larabee asked, jerking slightly as he catapulted awkwardly into consciousness.

"Ezra's here," Vin wheezed. "Get the door... would ya?"

Chris nodded and pushed himself to his feet. And, after running his fingers through his hair, he started for the door.

"Hey, Chris?"

"Yeah?" Larabee asked, pausing before he reached the door.

"Like some time... alone with 'im... okay?"

Larabee nodded. "Sure." Then he walked to the door, grabbed for the knob and pulled. Ezra waited outside, looking scared and uncertain. "Vin's waiting for you," the blond said.

Ezra tried to smile, but he was afraid, and the attempt failed about halfway through. Chris stepped out of the room, letting the undercover man enter.

Stepping into the hall, Chris pulled the door closed, then turned and pressed back against the wall. Rubbing the moisture from his eyes, he shook his head. It just wasn't fair... Why the hell couldn't the doctors do something?

Hell, they had already managed to locate the man responsible for the pipe-bombing on Monday, and several people had told them that would be impossible. They had pulled off the impossible. Hell, they did it on a regular basis! So why couldn't the NIH team do the same?

He huffed out a deep sigh, knowing he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted them to find a fix for this. He wanted them to put an end to his nightmare, but they weren't cooperating.

And there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do to help Vin; none of them could. They were stuck acting like high-priced security guards while they waited... and waited... and waited some more.

He was sick of waiting. He was sick of seeing Vin hurt. He was just sick of the whole damn thing.

Sick and tired... Maybe it would be better if—

He stopped that thought before it really formed. He couldn't wish Vin was gone. He just couldn't. Because it was the farthest thing from the truth there was.

He wanted Vin back - healthy and whole.

Pushing away from the wall, he stalked off, angry and not knowing whom to take it out on.

Thursday, 1731 Hours

"Hi," Ezra said quietly, his gaze roving over the various pieces of equipment Josiah had warned him would be in Vin's room now.

"Hi yourself," Vin whispered, motioning the man closer to the bed with a weak flick of his wrist.

"Dr. Connor has said I cannot stay long. He doesn't want you overly tired..."

"Hell with that," Vin said with a wheeze. "I'll... spend what time... I got... how I want," he told his friend with a conspiratorial wink, then he patted the mattress. "Have a seat."

Ezra eased into the chair sitting beside the bed, careful not to disturb any of the various wires or tubes. He folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them, picking absently at a cuticle.

Vin waited for a moment, wondering if Ezra was going to say anything, and when it appeared he wasn't, he reached out his hand and Standish caught it in his.

"How are you doing?" the undercover man asked, then immediately shook his head. "Undoubtedly the stupidest question I have ever posed."

Vin nodded his agreement.

"Yes, well, you still had no need to agree with me."

Vin squeezed his hand. "Thinkin' I might not... get better."

"You mean you're surrendering the fight?" was the brutal rebuttal.

Vin shook his head and he said quietly, "Just... runnin' out 'a fight."

Ezra looked away, chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes filling. "I do not want you to die... For purely selfish reasons, I might add."

"Don't want to, either... but we don't usually... get a choice... 'bout these kinds... 'a things."

"I am well aware—"

"What?" Vin asked when Ezra broke off and didn't pick up again. He was honestly curious about what the man had almost said.

Ezra shook his head and reached up with his free hand to wipe a tear off his cheek. "It was nothing, just a useless rail against the Fates..."

Pushing himself farther up in the bed, Vin said, "I wanted t' tell y'... 'M gonna miss all 'a ya... a lot."

Ezra sucked in a breath and nodded again. "And I will miss you, too, Mr. Tanner," he said, holding tighter to the man's hand. "I... I—"

"What?"

"I wish I could exchange places with you," he choked out, looking away from the dying man.

That took Vin completely by surprise, although, when he thought about it, he wasn't sure why it should. They all felt like that, he was sure of that, and if situations were different, and it was one of the others lying in this bed, he knew he'd be wishing the very same thing, too.

"Ain't gone yet," Vin said, trying to smile.

"No," Ezra agreed. "But I- I want to thank you... Vin."

"For?"

"You were the first one on the team who truly accepted me," Ezra said. "Your... friendship made the transition... bearable, and, I think, made it easier for the others to give me the benefit of the doubt."

Vin grinned. "Hell, Ezra... y' weren't all that bad."

That sparked a grin from the man. "Yes, well, of course I wasn't," he complained.

"Yeah... says you."

Ezra shot him a glare.

"Don't give me... that look. You're pickin' up... Larabee's bad habits."

Ezra nodded, but he could feel the tears building again. "I should go, let you rest now..." he said, starting to stand.

"Just wanted... all 'a ya t' know," Vin said as he did. "I love y' all... like family..."

Ezra nodded, his throat suddenly too tight to permit him to speak. He beat a hasty retreat from the room, silently praying for what was looking more and more like a necessary miracle.

Friday, 0512 Hours

"Damn it."

"What?" Connor asked, looking up from his microscope. He blinked, trying to force his eyes to focus.

Natalie Durant tossed her clipboard down on the table and rubbed savagely at the back of her neck. "I can't keep up with the mutations. Every time I think we've got a handle on it, the damn thing changes, and the graphs are getting less and less predictable the longer we keep going!"

Connor stood and joined the woman.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Sorry," she said almost shyly. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

Reaching out, he pulled her into a hug. "You've been putting up with me; it's the least I can do."

She stood, resting in the shared embrace. Then she stepped back, her expression lighting up for the first time in days. "That's it!"

"What?"

"The patterns are breaking down because the organism's started breaking down! We've suspected all along that the recombination isn't stable." At Connor's blank look, she said, "It's dying, Stephen. If we can just keep Frank and the others going, that damn thing will die off on its own!"

Connor's arms snaked around her waist more tightly and he swung her around with a whoop. "You're right!" He huffed out a breath and said, "We need to find out what the deterioration rate of this monster is."

She nodded, feeling a little hope for the first time in days.

Friday, 0813 Hours

Chris watched the second hand of the large wall clock rotate steadily. Time had lost any particular association with the shift of shadows or the coming and going of the nurses. Seconds were measured in the forced, ragged gasps that passed for breathing, and were amplified to an eternity when the labored hiss would catch, Vin's diaphragm going into spasm. When the stalled breath would tumble out in a coughing wheeze, Larabee would allow himself to breathe again and time would plod along once more, carrying them all closer to tragedy.

The full mask over Vin's face now made little difference in his constant fight to move air in and out of his lungs. The blond ground his teeth together, noting the slightly blue pallor around the sniper's lips. The last nurse who had come in had told him they would be putting Vin on a ventilator soon... But he knew the man would never allow that. They'd have to sedate him, and he'd end up lying in that bed and dying...

He was dying, right now, right in front of his eyes...

Vin was sitting upright in the bed, his hands pressed tightly against his thighs, his fingers turned inward and pointing toward each other, like the nurse had shown him earlier. His shoulders were hunched forward, too, providing as much room as possible for his lungs to work, and he concentrated on breathing. Nothing else mattered.

The muscles in his neck, shoulders, and arms were corded with the continuing effort, and sweat ran down his face and dripped off his chin.

As it had before, the fight eventually grew easier for a time and the blue eyes blinked open, blearily searching the room until they spotted Chris, who had retreated away from the painful wheezing that threatened to drive him mad with frustration.

Vin met his eyes and held his gaze. Chris could read the truth he saw there as easily as he did a newspaper. Vin was glad he was close by, glad he had a friend with him in this hell he'd found himself caught in. Vin was afraid, and he didn't want to be alone.

So simple, what it all came down to... in the end.

The tightening in Vin's chest increased, the spasms coming closer and closer together now. And Larabee knew part of that look was gratitude for the promise the suffering man still thought Chris could carry out...

"Chris..." Tanner rasped.

"Easy, Vin," Larabee said, walking back to the foot of the bed, afraid if he got any closer it would somehow make Vin worse... or he might have to watch the light leave the man's eyes... He swallowed thickly and forced himself to say put as he said, "It's fine, Vin. I'm here. Just keep breathing, okay?"

"Got... somethin'... I need... t' tell ya..."

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"Love y'... y' know..."

Chris forced a small smile he didn't feel. "Yeah, I know. I love you, too."

Vin shook his head as he struggled with another breath. "Not like... that... Been... in love... with y'... for... a long time..."

"What?"

Vin offered the man a sheepish look. "Never... wanted y'... t' know... but now..."

"Vin, I don't understand," Chris said, feeling his knees going more than a little weak.

"'M gay... 'n' I... fell in love... with you."

"Vin, I..." Chris started, but he had no earthly idea what to say to that.

"It's... time," Tanner continued weakly. "Get me... outta here."

Chris felt the cold steel arrows of fear shoot through his bones, immobilizing him. No! It wasn't time! It couldn't be. The NIH doctors had to find a cure, they had-

"Chris... y' gave me... your word..."

Squeezing his jaw tight, Larabee forced himself to take the three steps that brought him to Vin's side.

Frightened, pleading blue eyes looked up at him, begging him to make good on that damn promise. "Please..."

"I'll— I'll get a wheelchair," was the only thing Chris could think to say. "I'll be right back." Vin nodded, the gratitude in his eyes almost enough to make Larabee sick to his stomach.

Vin watched the blond go, knowing Chris was going to need a lot of help when this was over. Yesterday, when he'd finally been able to talk to Buck, it had been Chris that they had talked about. About how he was going to be hurting... About how he was going to want to leave the team... About how close he'd come to killing himself with alcohol when Sarah and Adam had died, and how he'd probably retreat to the bottle again... But, like before, Buck would be there for the man. Buck and the others this time.

They would have to keep a close eye on Larabee. But he knew they would. He knew Buck would do everything in his power to make sure the man came though this...

God. He never thought he'd mean that much to anybody, never guessed that his death might actually cause that much pain in somebody else's soul. And here he was, hurting four men, and coming close to destroying a fifth... Who the hell would have thought?

And why hadn't he kept his mouth shut? Why in the world had he told Chris the truth about his feelings? That had to be the stupidest thing he'd ever done. But it had seemed like the thing to do at the time...

Christ...

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to hurt them like that, especially not Chris, but he couldn't stop it. He was fighting. He was fighting harder and longer than he'd thought he could.

And every time he considered giving up, surrendering to the beckoning darkness that crowded his vision, he saw the look on Chris' face and he found the strength to keep fighting for one more breath... and one more... and one more...

But it was getting harder now, almost impossible, and he knew that, before long, no matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he wanted to live, he wasn't going to be able to draw another breath. His body was going to betray him, regardless of his willingness to keep fighting.

And then he'd die.

Please, Lord, he thought, watch over 'em... Watch over Chris. Please. He's gonna need Ya, Lord. Just help him though this... We need him here, doing what he does best, but he ain't gonna make it without Ya...

A short while later

"Vin, Chris, we—" Dr. Connor pulled up short, his gaze sweeping over the empty room. "What the—?"

"They're gone?" Dr. Durant asked, confused.

McCabe passed the doorway, just avoiding Stephen and Natalie as they stampeded past him and into the hall.

"Nathan!" Durant called out, catching sight of the former medic who was standing at the end of the hallway, talking with Josiah Sanchez.

Jackson turned to look at her, he and Josiah hurrying down to join them when they realized the doctors were gathered at the door to Vin's room.

"Something wrong?" Nathan asked as they reached the NIH team.

"Agents Larabee and Tanner are missing," Durant said. "Have you seen them?"

Josiah shifted uncomfortably, chewing on his lower lip. "Yes, ma'am, I've seen them..." he admitted reluctantly.

"Josiah," Nathan growled, "what's going on?"

"We have to find them - now," Connor said.

"I'm sorry, Doctors," Josiah apologized, "but I gave Vin my word, I—"

"Agent," Dr. Durant snapped, "we think we have a way to save Vin's life, if we can get to him in time. Where is he?"

"What?" Josiah said, his face going pale.

"Goddamn it!" Nathan swore, dragging his damp palm over his mouth. "They left, didn't they?"

"Left?" Dr. McCabe asked, his eyes rounding with surprise and worry.

Josiah was nodding. "They left the lab," he acknowledged, grabbing the cell phone at his belt and speed-dialing a number. "Buck, get JD, we have to find Chris and Vin ASAP. They left here in the Ram about five minutes ago, headed west."

An acknowledgement echoed over the phone as Sanchez turned back to the threesome.

"Vin didn't want to die in this place. He made an arrangement with Chris—"

"Do you know where they went?" Dr. Connor demanded.

"No," the big man said sadly. "I helped Chris get him into the Ram and they left." The man's face pinched slightly. "From the way Vin looked, they won't have gotten far."

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

Chris pulled onto the dirt shoulder of the road and cut the motor. Bolting out of his seat, he rounded the front of the truck and jerked the passenger door open. Vin was leaning back against the seat, trying to suck in another breath. It looked and sounded like he was making the effort through an invisible straw.

Slipping his arm behind the younger man's back, Larabee pulled Vin to the edge of the seat, supporting him as Tanner's feet dropped to the ground and he stood on shaking legs. Together they stumbled slowly down a small incline to a clump of pine trees.

Easing Vin down to the ground, Chris collapsed next to him, fear causing his body to tremble uncontrollably. The ring of blue around Vin's mouth was darker now, and spreading down his chin.

Vin's eyes opened, and he looked out at the mountains, then up through the boughs of the trees into the blue, cloudless sky beyond. "Thank... you."

Chris reached out and gripped his friend's shoulder. "Damn it, Vin, it's not supposed to work like this," he choked out.

A small, crooked smile lifted the sniper's lips. "Tell me... 'bout it."

"Damn it, Tanner, you can't tell me you're in love with me and then die!"

Vin fought through another breath. "You'll... survive this... Chris... trust me. I'll... be there... with ya... I promise."

Larabee's eyes slid closed, the tears he'd denied himself earlier finally falling. Without thinking, he pulled Vin into his lap, supporting the younger man against his chest. The struggle for breath eased slightly, and Chris could feel Tanner's body relax a little.

"Wish I'd... got the ... chance t'... love ya ..." Vin whispered.

"Shh," Chris said, unable to speak. He didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to be there. Didn't want to lose him...

"Y'all... 'r m' family... love y'... all... gave me... more 'n... ever... thought... I'd have..."

"Vin, please," Chris managed to choke out.

"I'll be... watchin' out... for ya... Chris..."

"You better just keep fighting."

"Do... love...y'... more 'n... anything... wish..."

Larabee squeezed his eyes closed, willing this all to be a dream, but he knew it wasn't... He knew his best friend was dying in his arms...

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

"There!" Buck barked, his hand reaching automatically for Josiah's arm.

"I see it," Sanchez replied, pulling off the road and parking behind the Ram.

"We've got them!" Buck snapped into his cell phone as he and Josiah climbed out of the Chevy Suburban. "Two miles west, on Esperanza."

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

In Ezra's Jag, JD and the undercover man exchanged glances. "Well?" Standish asked.

"We're close," JD replied. "Can't hurt..."

"My feelings, exactly," Ezra concurred, turning around and flooring the accelerator.

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

After a quick check of the truck, Buck and Josiah scanned the surrounding area, the ladies' man spotting the two men first. "There," he said and pointed.

Josiah started forward.

"Wait," Buck whispered, reaching out to stop the man.

Chris was rocking Vin slowly from side to side, the tears on his face telling them more than they wanted to know.

"Goddamn it," Buck swore under his breath, and Josiah placed his hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him, but he knew it would do no good. There was no comfort for a loss like this.

They heard the Jag pull up and, a moment later, Ezra and JD joined them, their faces expressionless masks as Chris tipped his head back, an inarticulate cry torn free of his throat echoing over the still landscape.

Josiah nodded and the four men walked silently back to their vehicles, giving Chris and Vin their privacy.

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

Vin felt his struggle begin to ease, the pain slipping away as the desperate need for air disappeared. A velvet swirl of colors enveloped him, blocking out his view of the pine boughs and the sky above.

From a distance, he could hear Chris' voice, but the words were lost in a rising euphoria he couldn't explain. He welcomed the sensations, embraced them, feeling whole and well for the first time in days.

How long the warm, silky rainbow cradled him like that, Vin wasn't sure, but when he found himself floating near the top of a pine tree, he jerked with surprise. At least, he thought he did.

What in the world...?

He glanced around, slightly disoriented by the unusual aerial perspective, and felt a tug on some part of his awareness he couldn't quite identify. He looked down.

Chris was holding him, cradling him in his arms as tears flowed freely down the blond's cheeks.

What the hell's going on? Vin wondered, trying to reach out and touch the man. If he could just explain to him that he was fine, that he could breathe now, he-

I'm not breathing.

Vin studied himself more closely. His head was resting limply against Chris' shoulder, his chest still. He'd seen death often enough to recognize it, even in himself.

Oh, shit. I'm dead. The thought wasn't as frightening as he'd imagined it would be. But this floatin' around is gonna take some gettin' used to.

Forcing his attention away from Chris, Vin caught sight of the others at the top of the hill. They were all looking miserable and crying, too.

Aw hell, y' weren't all supposed t' be here. It was supposed t' be me and Chris. Y' didn't have to see this. Although, he realized, the fact that they were all there made him pulse with a warmth he could never describe in words.

Wait...

Nathan was missing...

Where was he?

Vin tried to move closer to the gathered men, but the activity did nothing more than tip him forward somehow.

His arms flailing, he righted himself and wondered if it was true that angels had to earn their wings. That would sure make getting around a lot easier.

Then he grinned to himself. Of course, he was making a really big assumption...

He glanced back at the men. Still no Nathan.

Glancing down, he found Larabee staring up at him. Chris? he called.

But instead of an answer, Vin saw the man's mouth open, then a single sharp cry of pain lanced out from Larabee, slicing straight through Vin. He winced, feeling Chris' emotional anguish as it passed though him.

Chris, it's okay, he called. I'm okay now. Let go, Chris, it's okay.

More movement interrupted Vin's efforts to communicate with his friend, and he searched the hillside, finding Ezra now seated on the ground next to his car, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms hugging his legs, his face buried against his knees. He knew the man was crying - hard.

Feeling Ezra's pain joining Chris', Vin pulled back. Then he realized that they were all crying, and he could feel their pain - different shades of loss, grief and hurt.

I don't want t' hurt y'all. I can't help this.

An odd sound caught his attention, the first he'd actually "heard" since the colors had surrounded him, and he spun around, but there was nothing there except the trees and the sky. Then, at the edges of his vision, a fine white mist started closing in on him.

He tried to backpedal away from the fog, but the swirling colors returned, wrapping themselves around him, buoying him along like a leaf on a slow-moving river toward the mist.

No, wait! he cried silently. I want to—

In the distance, a light appeared, bright and pulsing. A comforting sound rose slowly in pitch as he moved closer to the light, and the fear and worry fell away, shed like a second skin he no longer needed.

Moving faster now, Vin surrendered to the indescribable feelings that surged through him, opening his arms wide to embrace the light as it engulfed him...

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

Wiping at his eyes, Josiah started down the hill. Breaking away from the others, Buck followed him.

Chris looked up at the two men, then down at Vin. "He's gone," he whispered thickly.

"I'll take him, Chris," Josiah said quietly, extending his hands.

Chris started to protest, but then allowed the older man to gather up Vin's body and carry it up to the Ram.

Buck helped his friend climb to his feet, the two of them stumbling up the hill after Josiah. At the top, JD reached out, catching Chris' hand in his own and giving it a hard squeeze.

Chris pulled free and climbed into the back of the Ram, sitting down next to the body. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he tossed Buck the keys to the truck.

"I don't think I can drive," he said simply.

The others waited until the Ram pulled away before walking over to the other vehicles. Josiah reached out and pulled Ezra to his feet.

Wiping his face, Standish said, "I— I don't think I can drive, either."

"Come on," Josiah said with a sympathetic nod and a short hug. "Climb in. JD can drive you back."

JD nodded. "Yeah, sure, no problem." He met Josiah's eyes. "I'll, uh, follow you, okay?"

Josiah nodded, then headed to the Suburban and climbed in. A few moments later, he was pulling back onto the road. JD followed him as he'd said he would.

Ezra watched the younger man as he drove, his gaze fixed determinedly on the road, but his eyes were bright with tears.

"Vin Tanner, dead..." Standish said quietly.

JD nodded. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"None of us did," Standish replied.

JD nodded, his own tears starting all over again. "When we were talking... He— He said he'd watch out for us," he whispered. "Do you think he will? That he might be doing it... right now?" A warm hand settled on his shoulder and JD nodded. He knew Ezra understood.

"I certainly wouldn't put it past him," the undercover man told him, his voice strained. "Would you?"

JD shook his head, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. "No... I guess... I guess I wouldn't."

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

Emerging from the loving embrace of the light, Vin found himself momentarily blinded. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering where he had been taken.

"It takes a moment to adjust, sweetheart."

"Mama?"

A reassuring hand gripped his shoulder and Vin squinted, peering into a young woman's blue eyes. She looked exactly the same as Vin remembered her.

"Mama, it is you!"

"Yes, it's me, sweetie," Katherine Olivia Tanner replied with a sly smile.

Vin's gaze shifted from his mother's face to the dirt trail they were standing on. It ran alongside a wide, slow-moving river. Glancing across to the far bank, he thought he could make out the face of his grandfather standing in the foggy mist. Other faces faded in and out of the swirling grey as well.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Vin asked quietly.

"No, Vin, not yet."

His gaze shifted back to his mother, both eyebrows arching toward his hairline. "But—"

"Ya can't stay here, baby."

"Why?" Vin reached out, his hand closing on the very real arm of the woman.

"It's a mistake you're here, sweetie. It's not your time, not yet."

Vin's mouth tipped into a grin. "That sounds like a line from a bad late-night movie, Mama."

"But it's true, sweetie." With a hand on her son's arm, she led them to a felled tree trunk lying next to the water and sat down, Vin opting to pace along the riverbank. "Ya have t' go back, Vin. There's too much you've left unfinished."

"Unfinished?" he asked, his hands sliding up to rest on his hips.

"Your family still needs you."

"I— I know they do," he mumbled, looking down at his feet. "I didn't want t' hurt 'em, Mama."

She stood and walked over to him, soothing him with her hand pressed to his cheek. "I know y' didn't, sweetie. But you're needed there. They all need ya t' be with them longer."

She pointed across the river, and within the swirling mists Vin could see the vague outlines of other people he thought he ought to recognize. He shivered.

"But I don't want t' lose y' again, Mama," Vin breathed quietly.

She smiled at him and stroked his face. "Ya have so many who love you... Ya felt their pain, didn't ya?"

Vin nodded and swayed slightly, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he recalled the disconcerting sensations emanating from Chris and all the others. "I don't want to die, Mama. But—"

"I know, sweetie, I know. Here there's no pain, no frustration or hopelessness. But ya wouldn't be happy here. You'd worry and watch the riverbank for those you've come t' love, and when they came, you'd feel ashamed and guilty."

Vin nodded. "Yeah, I guess I would." In the distance, he thought he might hear voices, orders being barked, but he couldn't quite make them out. "I don't belong here, do I?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet, baby." She leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I've missed ya, so much, but I've been watching you... You're a good man, Vin Tanner. A strong man. You're a Tanner, and a Tanner never gives up."

He nodded. "I'm not givin' up, Mama..."

"You have a good family, a real good family, Vin. And ya love them."

He nodded, meeting her eyes. God, but she was beautiful. "I love Chris, Mama, really love him."

"I know you do, son." She smiled. "He loves you, too."

That surprised Vin, but he wasn't sure what to say. "It- You don't-?"

"Vin, I love ya just the way ya are."

That brought tears to his eyes. He'd always thought she'd reject him for being gay. "I want t' go back, Mama. Please?"

Smiling and leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek again, she said, "This way. Hurry."

As they walked swiftly along the trail, he could hear the distant voices getting louder. And there were other noises, too, mechanical ones, beeping sounds... He looked at his mother. "Are y' happy here, Mama?" he asked her.

She nodded and smiled. "I'm with your daddy, baby... and my mama, Grandpa..."

"My daddy?" Vin asked. "Y' never told me who—" He felt a sharp tug and he reached out, grabbing hold of his mother's hand. "Mama?"

"It's all right, baby, we'll all be here when ya come home t' stay, I promise."

He felt the solid ground beneath his feet giving away, sending him tumbling into the swirling colors. The fall didn't frighten, but the first soft caress of cold and pain terrified him.

"Mama!" he cried.

"You'll be fine, baby. I'll be with you - always."

The colors evaporated in the blink of an eye, pain and blackness gripping him, squeezing his chest. And then, with a blinding flash of raw agony, he sucked in a breath and mentally scrambled frantically for the beckoning blackness that now lay just beyond his reach.

Chris! he cried, hoping the man could hear him, could somehow help him...

Friday, 0910 Hours

Chris kept his gaze carefully averted from the too-still form lying next to him in the truck bed. Not since Sarah and Adam died had he felt so utterly cold and numb inside. He reached up, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, knowing at the same time that the action would do nothing to cut the chill. It was coming from inside of him.

Vin loved him...

Had loved him...

Why the hell hadn't the man said something?

In the cab of the truck, Buck saw the laboratory come into view and noted Nathan and some other nurses were waiting at the doors. "Chris, looks like something's up!" he yelled back at the man.

But Larabee didn't hear a word the ladies' man said, the comment lost when Vin's back arched and he sucked in a deep breath, causing Larabee to jump and scramble back away from him.

"Vin?" Chris gasped, immediately scooting back closer to Tanner's body, his hands reaching out to test for a pulse. There was nothing... except...

Larabee felt the Ram turn into the secured parking lot. "He's breathing!" he yelled frantically at Buck.

The ladies' man accelerated, driving straight to the door and braking to a squealing stop. Nathan and the nurses swarmed to the side of the Ram before he could even cut the engine. The NIH doctors arrived, Dr. McCabe pushing a gurney.

"Hurry!" Connor bellowed.

The tailgate was pulled down, people pushing in past Larabee to hastily remove Vin.

"Easy with him!" Chris snapped. "He's—"

"Hurry!" Connor barked again.

"What's going on?" Buck demanded, watching as Vin was transferred onto the gurney and wheeled inside, Connor and the other NIH doctors behind, everyone moving at a run.

"No time," Nathan said, grabbing Chris' sleeve and hurrying him out of the truck bed. "They have to get him on life support."

"Nathan, he's dead!" Buck snapped.

"Not yet, he isn't!" Nathan said, herding the two men into the facility.

"Nathan," Chris said, coming to a stop. "He was dead," he said bluntly. "But I think— I think he just took a breath."

"Bodies do that," Buck said, his tone sympathetic. He looked to Jackson for conformation.

Nathan took a deep breath and said in a rush, "Frank Powell died, too, but they brought him back."

Chris' eyes rounded. "Can they—?"

"I don't know," Nathan said. "They were right on top of things when he... died."

Chris' expression shifted from shocked hope to utter devastation. "You mean—? If we'd stayed—? I killed him?"

"Chris, no," Buck said, his arm going around the man's shoulders as he saw Larabee begin to sag. He looked over, meeting Nathan's eyes. "Help me get him into a chair."

Jackson nodded and reached out, the two men maneuvering Larabee down the hallway and into a chair in their command and control center. Chris leaned over the table and buried his face in his arms, his shoulders jerking with the silent sobs that shook his body.

Buck looked to Nathan. "Did we kill—?"

The Black man shrugged, shaking his head. "I'll go see what I can find out."

The ladies' man nodded, his gaze falling to Chris' back. Jesus, he thought, if taking him out there killed him... He squeezed his eyes closed, begging the Divine not to put his oldest friend through that kind of hell.

Friday, 0917 Hours

Nathan stared in disbelief at the clearly registering brain activity. And while he watched, Dr. Connor administered a mild stimulus to Vin's heart, sending the ECG back into a normal, rhythmic pulse.

"Respirator has him now," Dr. McCabe said.

"BP is coming up," Dr. Durant echoed.

"How?" Ezra whispered. "We saw him... die out there."

Nathan and the others looked over at the doorway to the room, finding Ezra, JD and Josiah standing there.

"He didn't die," Dr. Durant replied. "He just stopped breathing. Let's go to the conference room, I'll see if I can explain while they work."

Exiting, she and Nathan found several of the laboratory personnel waiting anxiously in the hallway for news.

"He's alive," Dr. Durant told them, the scientists and technicians whooping in unison. "This way," she said to the agents, smiling slightly at the display of enthusiasm. Nathan, Josiah, Ezra and JD trailed after her, peppering her with questions as they went.

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

"Find a spot," Dr. Durant told them, waving her hand and heading for the coffeepot carefully ensconced in a corner of the room. She poured four cups and carried them over to the table, distributing them as she explained. "Okay, this is how I think it worked. The mutation that Agent Tanner and our friend were infected with was particularly unstable, and the recombination kept breaking down, which was why we were having so much trouble keeping up with the shifts. But it wasn't breaking down fast enough to stall the effects of the toxins it was also producing as it lived and carried out its basic metabolic functions. In fact, I think the production of the toxins actually played a large role in the destabilization, the speeding up of its own genetic breakdown."

"And the toxins are what... killed him?" Josiah asked, then amended, "Or whatever that was out there that looked like dead?"

"Yes. The toxins built up to the point where Agent Tanner lost autonomic respiratory control, but, at the same time, they were making the recombination break down. We figured that out just before Agent Larabee managed to-

"Anyway, that's why we came looking for Vin. Frank went critical first, and we thought if we could get Vin on a respirator, like we did Frank, we could keep him going until the bacteria broke down on its own, since we couldn't isolate anything to use against it.

"But we didn't have all the data on the deterioration rates. Dr. McCabe got that after the agents left. The bacteria had actually been breaking down for about twelve hours..." She paused to take a breath, realizing that they weren't really following what she was saying, nor did they really care about the details. "The organism was at the end of its life cycle," she summed up. "The peak of the toxin buildup was just slightly ahead. When the toxin peaked and Vin stopped breathing, the organism had already finished breaking down, it had already self-destructed. Eventually, Vin's own system caught up and the level of the toxin began to fall off. That freed up his autonomic system, but the timing was such that he went into respiratory arrest and ventricular fibrillation."

"So he was never really dead?" JD asked her.

"I don't know. Technically, he'd stopped breathing and his heart had stopped pumping when he arrived back here."

"That's dead in my book," JD supplied with a nervous laugh.

"What now, Doctor?" Ezra asked, leaning forward.

"We'll keep him on the respirator until he's a little stronger and the level of toxin completely falls off," she said, then looked nervously away.

"What?" Nathan asked.

She met his eyes, suddenly uncertain how to tell them the next part. "We... We don't know what the reaction is going to be to the decomposition of the toxin."

"You mean, he's still in danger?" Josiah questioned, the exhaustion he felt suddenly tripling.

Dr. Durant nodded. "I'm sorry, but we're back to wait-and-see. I'm optimistic, but I can't make any promises. If it helps, Frank is making good progress."

The men nodded, but the grim expressions had returned. She offered them a small, reassuring smile that had no effect, then left.

"I better go find Buck and Chris," Nathan said quietly.

Josiah shook his head. "I don't think Chris needs to hear about this just yet."

The former medic started to protest, but then he nodded, bowing to the profiler's better understanding of Larabee's current psychological state.

Ezra forced himself to his feet. "I just want to state for the record that I am getting damn tired of waiting for good news without any strings attached."

"Amen, brother, amen," Josiah replied.

Saturday, 0653 Hours

Larabee paced into Vin's room. Checking his watch, he was surprised to find it was nearly seven o'clock. He'd have to get some sleep, soon, or he was going to pass out where he stood.

Shoving the hair off his forehead, Chris walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains to let the early morning light fill the room. He cracked the pane open, allowing in the morning air as well. Behind him, Vin lay, quietly sleeping.

A cold chill snaked down Larabee's back. It had been nearly twenty hours since they had returned to the laboratory. Vin had regained consciousness again Friday afternoon, only to be assaulted with body-racking spasms as his system fought the toxins as they broke down. Nothing they had tried had eased the man's suffering, and once Chris had thought he'd lost Vin for a second time. Finally, they had taken Tanner off the respirator when he became conscious enough to begin to fight the thing.

Chris closed his eyes, trying to push the images away, but they refused to budge. He'd been sitting behind Vin, letting the younger man lean back against him and rest while he rubbed the sniper's tired and tense shoulder muscles. They had tried to keep Tanner awake throughout the ordeal, afraid that if he slept, they wouldn't be able to monitor the process closely enough to intervene if there was trouble.

They had been talking about Vin's experience after he'd almost died the first time when he fell silent and slumped forward. Chris' trembling fingers had missed the pulse still beating in his neck. Dr. McCabe had found them twenty minus later - Chris a complete wreck, sure that he had really lost the man this time. But it was only exhaustion, which had forced Vin into a deep sleep and, together, they had managed to rouse him.

Three hours later, Dr. Durant had arrived to tell them that the toxins had dropped to a low enough level that they were no longer a threat. Vin had smiled weakly, slipping immediately into sleep once more...

The memories sent a surge of raw panic coursing through Larabee's already-frazzled nerves and he shook like a quake-rattled windowpane. It had been so close. So very, very close...

But Vin had hung on, fighting the pain and the cramping muscles, refusing to give up even when Chris had reached the point where he wanted Tanner to succumb - if simply to spare the sniper the continuing agony.

They had all sat with the man, urging him to not to give up, but, after several hours of it, Chris could no longer utter those words. It wasn't fair. Vin had suffered enough. If death was his only escape, then he deserved it. After all, he'd told him how happy he'd been to see his mother...

But how could he have wished the man dead? Vin was his friend, his best friend. Hell, he'd even confessed to being in love with him!

Vin hadn't given up, but he had. He had thrown away the love Vin had offered him, and that was unforgivable.

Guilt weighed heavily on Larabee's shoulders, and he forced himself back to the edge of the bed.

A wild, incomprehensible maelstrom of emotions spiraled through the blond, increasing his anxiety. He wanted to reach out and rest his hand on the man's lightly-rising and falling chest - to assure himself that what he was seeing was real - but, at the same time, he wanted to ring Tanner's neck for putting him through this ordeal.

He wanted to stand inside the circle of Vin's arms and cry like a child, like he had when Sarah and Adam had been killed. And he wanted to shove him away, as far away as possible, so he couldn't be hurt like that again. Especially if what he'd said about love was true.

So many people in his life had died - his parents, Sarah, Adam - and he'd wished the same on Vin... What kind of man did that make him?

With a whispered curse, Chris spun and fled the room.

Monday, 0747 Hours

"Mr. Tanner," Ezra said strictly, "the doctors stated quite clearly that you must eat if you wish to regain your strength."

Vin leveled his best no-nonsense glower, sure to stop anything short of a rampaging bull elephant or an irate Chris Larabee, on the man.

Standish folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head slightly to one side. "You're not eating, Mr. Tanner."

Vowing to work on the glower until it included stubborn undercover agents, Vin eyed his tray. On it, what he hoped was oatmeal floated in a plastic bowl. If it wasn't oatmeal, he'd have to file a complaint for illegal disposal of toxic waste, because it really looked like some experiment they might be working on, not food.

Picking up his spoon, he poked tentatively at the substance. "Uh..."

"Oh, come now, it can't be that bad. I believe I had some of that... well, whatever it is, when I was in the hospital once, a long time ago."

"Probably the same batch," Tanner muttered. "They just kept sendin' it out t' different institutional cafeterias 'til someone's stupid enough t' actually eat it."

The door swinging open spared the recovering man actually sampling the gruesome mixture. "Larabee, where's m' pants?"

"Don't you think you'd better tackle breakfast before you storm the nurses' station?" Chris asked him, the edge to his voice making the joke more pointed than was called for.

"He's grouchy," Buck summed up, following the blond into the room.

"I am not grouchy," Larabee argued, realizing too late that he had sounded incredibly grouchy while doing so.

"Oh, yes, you are," the ladies' man countered.

"When am I gettin' out 'a here?" Vin asked the men. "I feel fine now, and I'm gonna starve t' death if I'm stuck here much longer. Where's Dr. Connor?"

"Soon. Glad to hear it. I doubt that. And I don't know," Buck rattled off, then grinned.

Blue eyes narrowed and the sniper's lips disappeared into a thin line.

"Try the toast, Mr. Tanner," Ezra suggested, sparing Wilmington's life. "I believe it was Mr. Dunne who pointed out that, if you fold it in half, it springs back to its original shape... like rubber."

"Great," Vin grumbled, while Buck moved in closer for a better view of the experiment.

Vin glared up at the big man again.

But Buck just grinned and said to Chris, "Hell, stud, he sure can give the ol' Larabee glare a run for its money, can't he?"

"He's just being a goddamn stubborn fool," Larabee replied. "The doctors said eat, so eat, goddamn it."

Vin blinked and transferred his increasingly annoyed glower to his boss. "I will, when I c'n find some real food on my plate!"

"Ah," Ezra said, his eyes closing, his expression one of a man who had just sampled a fine wine. "The sounds of normalcy at long last..."

Friday, May 28^th

1010 Hours

"It's about time!" Vin enthused when Josiah entered his hospital room carrying a small gym bag. "Those m' clothes?" he asked hopefully. He'd thought that his transfer from the lab to a regular hospital would mean that he'd be sent home soon, but that had not proved to be the case.

"Yes, they are, but you're not going to need them just yet."

"Damn it, J'siah, what more do they want? I've been bled dry! I'm fine. I want t' go home."

"This won't hurt a bit, Vin," Sanchez reassured the man as the door opened and a nurse entered, pushing a wheelchair.

"I've heard that for three days now, J'siah, 'n' they've been wrong every damn time."

"Agent Tanner, you are the worst patient I've ever had to deal with, and I've dealt with some real brutes!" the nurse said, pointing to the chair. "Insert rump here - now."

With all the dignity he could muster in the thin hospital gown, Vin took his seat. "What is it this time?"

"Last set of chest X-rays," the nurse supplied as she wheeled him out the door. "Then a trip to neurology, and then I'm hoping we'll finally get rid of you."

"Well... good," the sniper grouched, not sure if he should be hurt or not by her words.

She smiled down at him and patted his shoulder, saying, "Nobody really likes being here. You're not so bad..."

Josiah chuckled softly. "Look at the bright side, brother," he added.

"There is one?" Vin asked him.

"You could have been sent back to DC, to the NIH to recuperate with Frank Powell... have Doctors Connor, Durant and McCabe hovering over you all this time..."

Vin raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "All right, J'siah, y' made your point." He flashed the man a grin as they headed for the elevators. "Poor guy."

Josiah nodded his agreement.

Vin's expression turned more serious as they entered the elevator and the nurse pressed the button that would take them to Radiology. "Ain't seen Chris in a day 'r so... he busy?"

Josiah sighed softly, but not so softly that Tanner didn't hear it. "He's... dealing with some issues of his own right now."

Vin frowned. "'Bout me?"

Josiah nodded. "It's not your fault, Vin, and it's nothing you've done... He's just revisiting some old ghosts. Give him a little time; he'll be all right."

Vin nodded, but he slumped back in his wheelchair, worried nonetheless.

A Week Later

"Vin, you resting?"

Tanner winced slightly. "Yeah, JD, I'm restin'." He laid his pen aside and looked up from his paperwork.

"Funny, it looks to me like you're working. Chris says you should be resting; you just got home, after all."

Vin contemplated what he might do if he heard the phrase "Chris says" one more time, but decided that everything he could come up with was a federal offense.

"I'm just gettin' started on all this damn paperwork," he explained, waving his hand over the stack of file folders cluttering up one corner of Larabee's coffee table.

JD crossed the room and slid into the leather recliner. "Ever remind you of homework?"

"Hell yes," Vin replied, adding, "And I hated that, too."

"Well, homework's work," JD reasoned. "You better wait 'til tomorrow... at least."

Fighting back a smile, Vin decided to humor the request. "Guess it can't hurt t' let this sit for another day... or two."

"Cool. You want to watch Total Recall on HBO?"

Vin nodded his agreement. "Now, that sounds more like restin' than doin' paperwork does."

"Yep." JD bounced out of the recliner. "You want some breakfast? Josiah's in there, making flapjacks."

"Josiah?" Vin replied, watching the younger man leave the room. He'd been out of the hospital for a week now, but was still confined to the ranch, and he was chafing to return to his regular routine, even if no one else was ready to let him go back to it yet.

He was fine.

Dr. Chandler had pronounced him bacteria- and toxin-free. Oh, sure, he was still a little sore and achy, but that was fading quick enough, and his strength was almost back to... well, something starting to approach normal. It would be back to normal by now if he could just get back to his regular runs and exercise. But every time he tried to do anything that was... well, normal, one of the others would appear to distract him, or con him into waiting, or tell him he couldn't, shouldn't, or wouldn't want to do it... Well, enough was enough!

He was fine, and it was high time he got on with his life. It wasn't going to wait for him forever, after all. Besides, Larabee had developed a habit of avoiding him as much as possible, and he was getting pretty tired of that, too. Maybe if he went home, Chris would have the space he needed to work through whatever it was he was still working through...

Vin was more than a little afraid that what he was working through was his reaction to Tanner's ill-timed confession of love. Larabee hadn't said a word about it, but he couldn't imagine what else it could be.

With a deep breath, he pushed himself up and left the living room, heading to the kitchen, and breakfast. Even his appetite had finally returned, which was no small feat after all the lab and hospital swill he'd been forced to endure.

He was fine, by God, and it was definitely time the others stopped treating him like he was still an invalid. Because, if he could get them on his side, then he could force Chris to let him go home, and if he went home, maybe Larabee would just forget about the confession and they could go back to the way things used to be.

Now, all he had to do was convince them he was ready to be treated like a human being again, not a patient.

"'Mornin', Vin," Josiah greeted as he entered and took a seat at the breakfast bar.

"'Mornin'," he replied, noting Larabee's absence - more usual than unusual these days. "Anythin' going on?"

"Nada," Buck said with a smile. "We're all still on vacation for another two days."

Vin nodded. "That'll give me two days t' get back into a routine." He waited for someone to voice an objection, but there were none. "That's not a problem?" he asked them, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Should it be?" Josiah asked him in return.

Tanner's eyes narrowed more. "For the last week, y'all've been watchin' me like I was an only chick, so, yeah, I was expectin' some kind of objection."

Buck shrugged. "Nathan figured a week was enough rest. A week's up today. You're free."

"Why didn't anyone tell me this?" Vin demanded.

"What, and ruin all our fun?" Buck asked him, then added sincerely, "Welcome back, Junior."

JD grinned at Vin from across the table. "So, does that mean you'd rather go horseback riding?"

"Damn straight," Vin said with a smile. "Perfect way t' start the day, in my opinion."

"After you've had some breakfast," Josiah said, transferring three of the large, golden-brown disks onto a plate which he slid in front of Vin.

Tanner grinned down at the pancakes. "Of course," he said, reaching for the butter and the syrup, slathering on the first and drowning the stack in the latter before digging in.

Buck and Josiah exchanged grins.

JD just rolled his eyes. "It's a good thing Nathan isn't here to see that!" he added.

"Where is everybody else?" Vin asked.

"Nathan's out helping Chris feed the horses," Buck told him. "And Ezra's... Well, he's wherever he is."

"Said he was 'tracking down some loose threads,' whatever the hell that means," JD supplied. "Said he'd be back for lunch, and insisted that it be something other than barbecue."

"Heathen," Buck replied, shaking his head.

Vin nodded, his mouth too full to speak.

Monday, June 14^th

0803 Hours

He heard them outside in the hallway, talking and laughing as they entered the office. "'Bout time," he called.

They came to stumbling halts, their eyebrows climbing. Josiah, Nathan, Buck, JD and Ezra all glanced around at their office space, taking in the abundant party decorations that covered the walls, desks, windows and whatever other surface could be put to use. A handmade banner that hung from the ceiling read, "I'm Back!"

"You're late," Vin told them, settling back in his chair and grinning at their confused, dazed looks.

"Uh, Vin," JD said, "aren't you still on sick leave?"

Vin's grin broadened into a genuine smile. "Nope. Dr. Chandler gave me the 'you're all better now' speech on Friday, so I'm officially back, as of today."

"I see," was Nathan's cool reply. Taking a deep breath, and hoping he could keep a straight face, he stalked over to Tanner and peered down at him. It didn't take long for Vin's expression to falter slightly under the former medic's intense scrutiny. A moment later, a smile broke out on Jackson's face. "Good to have you back, Vin," he said, reaching out and slapping the sniper on the back. "You're looking good - damn good."

The others all laughed at Tanner's relieved expression and headed to their desks, most of them still gawking at the decorations as they went.

"What's all this for?" Buck asked, waving his hands at the riot of color and designs. "You do realize that we're supposed to throw you a welcome-back party, right?"

"Well, that might be true, but I figured I'd throw you guys a party, too," Vin said, blue eyes alight with warmth and friendship. "T' say thank you, for all y' done for me... Don't think I would've made it through that mess if it hadn't been for you guys." The grin returned as the five men blushed at the compliment.

"Still," Ezra said, schooling his expression into one of his best haughty, condescending looks, "this is a terrible breach of protocol, Mr. Tanner, simply dreadful. I'm afraid we're going to have to insist that you take this all down and allow us to enact our rightful roles of celebrators upon the conclusion of this most unfortunate recent drama."

They watched as Vin's eyes widened slightly while he tried to quickly translate the man's words.

"Well," Tanner said and cleared his throat, "reckon if y'all feel that way, I could take it down..."

"We did have some pretty audacious plans," Josiah agreed, looking at Ezra. But his eyes were twinkling.

"Y' did?"

"Oh, yeah," Buck jumped in. "Food, cake... belly-dancing girls..."

"Belly-dancing girls?" JD echoed. "Since when?"

The ladies' man rolled his eyes and Vin fought back a smile.

"Wow... Well, then, reckon I'll just have t' let y' rock the house... another day," he concluded, watching the men's lips twitching into smiles. "'Cause I've already got us reservations at Chops for tonight, and I picked up one of them extra special cakes from Celestial Bakery..."

"Oh, my God," Josiah gasped. "Don't tell me, the white cake with fruit filling and butter rum frosting?"

"The very same," Vin replied, nodding. "Only the best... for the best bunch of friends, brothers, a guy could ever hope to find."

"Well, then, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said, his eyes a little bright, "we might be willing to forgive your faux pas after all."

"You bet we are," Nathan added, he and the others nodding.

"Glad to hear it," Vin replied, looking and sounded more than a little smug. "Where's Larabee?"

Buck frowned. "He's not here? He didn't help you put all this stuff up?"

Tanner shook his head. "Expected he'd turn up with the rest of ya."

"He wasn't at breakfast, either," Nathan offered. "We thought he was running late-"

"Because 'a me," Vin finished for him, frowning now as well. "He helped me get all my shit back home on Saturday, but I didn't hear from him on Sunday."

"I'll give him a call," Buck said, starting to reach for his cell phone.

"What the hell is all this crap?"

The six men looked to find Larabee stalking into the office. The blond was frowning as he took in the decorations. He stopped for a moment, then just shook his head and headed into his office, closing the door behind him.

"Something happen between you two?" Buck asked the sniper.

"Not that I know of," Vin replied, still staring at the closed door to Chris' office.

"Yes, well, whatever Mr. Larabee's issues might be," Ezra said, "I, for one, am just glad that we, once again, have beaten the odds." He grinned at Vin, adding, "I always knew that you were simply too stubborn to die, Mr. Tanner."

The men laughed and slowly began to actually turn their attention to their work.

"Chops, huh?" JD called. "That's gonna cost you a month's pay."

"It'll be worth it," Vin said sincerely, but he was still worried about what was happening with Chris. Maybe he'd said too much? Christ, what if Larabee decided he didn't want him on the team any more?

Thursday, June 18^th

1202 Hours

Vin stepped off the jogging path and stretched. It was a beautiful, clear morning, perfect for a run in the park - his preferred way of spending lunch. God, but it felt good to be back at work, back to "normal," or whatever passed for it in his usually messed-up life.

Things between him and Chris were still strained, but at least the man hadn't asked for his resignation, and he hadn't outted him to the others, either.

He wasn't sure what he thought about that, but he was grateful. At least this way, he still had his job and his friends - minus the one who was the most important to him, but that might just be the price he had to pay for opening his mouth like that. What had he been thinking?

He snorted softly as he continued to stretch. Hell, that was the problem, he hadn't been thinking. He'd managed to keep his feelings hidden for all this time, and then...

Then he'd almost died. No, he had died, at least for a little while, but it was facing that death that had spooked him, made him open up like a damn fool—

"Tanner."

Vin glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see Chris walking up to join him. "Y' gonna run with me?" he asked, beginning his warm-up exercises, and hoping that was all there was to it. But his heart began to race as he steeled himself for the worst.

"What the hell are you doing?" Larabee demanded.

The sniper frowned. "Uh... gettin' ready for my run, just like usual."

"You just got out of the hospital."

Vin glanced up at the blond, sensing something was wrong, but finding no clue in the man's closed expression to tell him what it was. "Uh, it's been almost three weeks, Chris. Dr. Chandler said I was fine, said I should go back t' all my normal routines, remember?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean you should be out here, running a damned marathon," Larabee snapped at him.

Vin felt himself bristle and forced himself to take a deep breath before he replied. "Not runnin' a marathon, Chris, just taking a run around the park."

The man's hands come up to rest on his hips. "You're not Superman, you know."

"Yeah," Vin said, more confused than ever, "I know."

"Then why the hell do you act like you are?" Chris demanded.

"That's out 'a line, Larabee," Vin snapped, his own anger finally bubbling to the surface. He knew if he wasn't careful, he was going to say something he'd regret, but that was out of line. He hadn't been doing a damn thing out of the ordinary.

"No, you're out of line," was the reply. "Why can't you admit you're human, just like the rest of us?"

"Just a goddamned minute-" But before he could get started, Larabee turned and stalked away.

What the hell...? Vin wondered, watching Chris getting farther away. He didn't know, but he did know he had to find out what the hell was going through Larabee's mind, and soon, before whatever was left of their friendship was destroyed.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't be running today. Instead, he started after Larabee, picking up speed until he finally caught up with the man. "Hey, Chris, hold on."

The blond stopped and Vin heard him sigh heavily. Chris' shoulders also sagged as he turned to face him. "What?" he snapped.

"Something y' want t' talk about?" he asked the older man.

Chris shook his head, but said at the same time, "Look... It's not your problem. It's mine."

"Seems like y' made it mine, too."

Larabee's jaw muscle jumped with frustration.

Vin glanced around the park, which was relatively quiet for the time of day. "Y' want t' take a walk?" he asked, knowing the jogging trail would give them some privacy.

It was clear from the look on the other man's face he didn't want to, but Chris sighed again and nodded, resigned to his fate.

The first several minutes passed in silence, but then Chris said softly, "Just having a hard time facing the fact that... that I... that it hurt... Hell, I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say."

"That y' found out your heart isn't as dead as y' thought it was?" Vin asked quietly.

Larabee's eyes rounded. "Yeah... I guess that's close enough."

Vin offered him a small smile. "Hell, Chris, any time y' think you're going t' lose something that means something t' ya, it hurts... But I've gotta tell y'... Having somebody who'll stick it out with ya, t' the last breath... that's a gift, a treasure nobody can put a price on... If it'd been you..." He shook his head. "Reckon I would've felt some 'a what you're feelin'... But it wasn't you." He looked over at the man, his eyes full of hope and sympathy and sadness. "Y' can live dead, or y' can live life. It ain't easy, but I think it's worth it."

That brought a small smile to Chris' lips, too. "Sometimes I think it is, too. Other times..." He shook his head. "It hurts, Vin... Too much, maybe..."

"Alternative's worse."

Larabee had to nod after a few moments passed. "Yeah... I guess so."

They walked on in silence for a while, then Larabee asked, "How the hell did you get so wise, anyway?"

Vin flashed him a grin. "Hell if I know."

"I do."

Vin looked at him, waiting for him to continue, but Chris changed the topic. "Guess I've been acting like a damn fool, haven't I?"

Vin nodded. "Reckon y' have... Well, a pain in the ass, anyway."

"Fuck you, Tanner."

"Not in this life," the man replied under his breath.

Larabee shook his head. Then he stopped and rested his hands on his hips. "You know, only you could find the one place in Purgatory an escaped, plague-infected rodent would go to die."

"How the hell was I supposed to know it'd get caught in Pop's new air conditioning unit?"

Chris started walking again, this time heading them back toward their building. "I'm just saying, you're a freakin' trouble magnet."

"Am not."

"The hell you aren't."

"Hey, anybody could've been there. It was just poor timing."

"Trouble magnet."

Tanner rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. It wasn't over, but at least he knew Chris was trying to put it behind him. And any friend who'd ride the river with you to the last breath was worth waiting for, worth helping.

And he knew he'd do whatever it took... to his last breath to keep his friendship with the man.

As for the rest of his feelings... Well, it seemed Chris had decided to ignore his confession.

Probably for the best, he thought. He'd known from the beginning he'd never have the man the way he wanted to.

But as long as he had Chris' friendship, he could make do. It wouldn't always be fun, but he'd managed this far. There would probably be a few blonds who hung out at the Shooting Star who enjoyed the fact he was still unattached, too.

He grinned to himself. Hell, a man's gotta do whatever it takes...

Saturday, June 20^th

1332 Hours

The men sat out on the deck, their bellies full after the feast of barbecued ribs. Chris was the first one to rise, gathering up a few of the plates and carrying them inside. Vin watched him go, wondering about the looks the man had been giving him all morning.

He'd arrived at the ranch first that morning, heading straight out to the barn to say hello to Peso. Chris had been just finishing up the morning feeding, so he'd helped him.

Larabee had seemed his usual self, at first. But then Vin had gotten tangled up with one of the barn cats and, rather than step on her, he'd twisted, stumbling back slightly. Chris had caught him before he could fall.

He'd thanked the man and gone over to Peso, giving the cantankerous gelding a good scratch between his ears before fishing the carrot out of his back pocket and handing it over to the horse. That's when he'd caught the look the first time that day. And he still wasn't exactly sure how to read it.

Vin stood and gathered up the rest of the plates, heading inside. Maybe Larabee would be willing to talk... at least, he hoped he would. Their relationship was still a little strained, Chris more protective than usual, and a little more distant, but Vin chalked that up to the man not wanting to do anything that might "lead him on," when it came to the nature of their relationship.

He could imagine doing much the same if he learned one of the others was in love with him. Since he couldn't return their feelings, he wouldn't want to do anything that might be read as encouraging. But he missed the comfortable friendship they had shared before his near-death experience. He missed the way they could unconsciously share space before. Now, it seemed, both of them were hyperaware of how close they were standing, how often they invaded each other's space, without really even thinking about it...

Reaching the kitchen, Vin set the dishes down on the counter next to the sink where Chris stood, rinsing the plates off before he placed them into the waiting dish washer. "Be right back with the rest," he told Larabee.

Chris nodded, steadfastly not looking at the younger man.

Vin sighed softly and left.

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

Chris held his breath when Vin left the kitchen, then sighed. What in the world had gotten into him?

Bad enough that he'd been plagued with disturbing dreams ever since Vin had died... had told him how he felt... but now his body was starting to react to the man as well. It was disconcerting, and it made him feel like he was some gangly teenager again, unable to predict or control what his cock would do.

It was crazy. He wasn't gay.

But he had to admit that the dreams had certainly been a turn-on - the evidence was right there in his sheets in the morning, undeniable.

And then this morning, out in the barn... Feeling Vin in his arms, in the flesh, so to speak... It had rattled him. Because it had excited him, he acknowledged to himself. He'd felt his body betray him.

He scowled. Maybe "betray" wasn't quite the right word. But that's how it had felt. He wasn't supposed to get turned on by a guy. He'd always looked at women, slept with women... But now it was Vin who haunted his dreams, made him hard when he touched him...

It was insane.

Wasn't it?

Hell, that was the problem, he didn't know! All he did know was that he was dreaming about making love with Vin, waking up with wet sheets, and when he got his hands on the man, what happened? He got a hard-on.

He was well and truly screwed.

Or not...

Shit.

He finished up with the dishes he had, just sliding in the last plate as Vin and Josiah returned with the rest of the dishes - bowls, small plates, glasses, and coffee cups. The three of them rinsed and filled the dishwasher, then Chris made another pot of coffee.

When that was done, he filled the carafe and they returned to the deck. Larabee set the coffee on the table and walked over to take a seat on one of the empty deck chairs that had been pulled up around the circular table. Buck was already pulling out the chips and Ezra was shuffling a deck of cards...

Several Hours Later

The poker game passed quickly, the conversation light and filled with ample laughter. Chris was able to set aside his concerns and fears for most of it, because Vin was seated across from him, rather than next to him, where he usually would have been. As he watched JD replacing the chips, he frowned slightly, wondering why it was Vin had sat in what was usually Josiah's seat.

Then he knew.

Vin had traded seats because Tanner knew he was making him uncomfortable. Because he loved him, he wanted to spare him that, so he'd swapped seats with Josiah... Jesus.

But that's what you did when you loved someone - you wanted to spare them pain, discomfort... And Vin had been completely candid about how he felt.

Chris looked up, then stood, when the others began pushing themselves to their feet. It was dark now, the crickets chirping.

"Thank you, brother," Josiah said, clapping Larabee's shoulder. He looked around at the others. "So, who's going to meet me at St. Philip's tomorrow to help out with the neighborhood farmers' market and fair?"

"We'll be there," Buck said of he and JD.

Dunne nodded, adding, "And Casey, too."

"Raine and I will be there by eleven," Nathan assured the man.

"Y' can count on me, too," Vin said.

Ezra sighed and said, "I had planned to sleep in tomorrow and then attend an opening at the Extravaganza Gallery..."

"That's fine," Josiah said. "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time..."

"If you're sure..." Standish replied.

"I'm sure we'll find enough people to ensure the kids are all safe and get to enjoy themselves," Josiah said.

Behind Ezra, Buck elbowed JD, grinning, as Standish shifted from one foot to another. "Well, I suppose I could put off the gallery for a week..."

Nathan grinned at Josiah. "I think that's a 'yes, I'll be there.'"

Ezra sighed and shook his head, saying, "Mr. Sanchez, I believe your tactics could be called extortion."

"Nope," the big man replied, "guilty conscience."

"My conscience is just fine, thank you very much."

"We'll see you tomorrow, brother," Josiah replied. "Be there by eleven."

"Fine..."

"Good luck with that meeting with Travis tomorrow," Buck told Larabee.

Chris nodded. "If I get done in time, I'll swing by."

"You'd be most welcome," Josiah assured him.

And with that, the men made their way around the side of the house to the driveway where their vehicles sat. Ezra was the first to leave, having been the last to arrive. Buck and JD were next, then Nathan. As Josiah and Tanner started for Suburban and Jeep, Chris called quietly, "Vin, hold on."

Vin glanced back over his shoulder, then stopped. He and Chris watched as Josiah pulled out, then walked back to the house. They carried in the racks of chips and the cards, along with the cups and glasses, adding them to the dishwasher and turning it on. Then they walked back to the living room, Vin sinking down to sit on the sofa.

"Chris?" he asked.

"Vin—" Larabee started at the same time.

They both grinned and broke off. Chris sighed heavily and sat down on the sofa next to Vin, but he didn't look at the man. Instead, he looked down at his clasped hands and said, "Vin... I..."

"Chris, if you want me to resign, that's okay. I told you that."

Larabee's head came up. "What?"

Vin glanced away. "I know you've been... uncomfortable around me. If it's too much, I'll type up my resignation."

"No!" Chris yelped. "I'm not-" He stopped. He couldn't lie to Vin; he never had, and he'd promised the man when he'd joined Team Seven that he never would. "Look, I don't understand what's going on with me."

"Ain't nothin'-"

"No, let me finish," Chris said. "I'm having dreams."

"Dreams?"

"About you... and me... together."

Vin blushed, his eyes widening. "Well, hell, Chris, y' got blindsided. It's probably natural that it's still hauntin' ya."

"Haunting is a good description. I can't get it out of my head, and then this morning..."

"Sorry. Didn't mean t' be such a' klutz."

"Vin, I'm not blaming you; you don't need to apologize. It's me... I always thought of myself as... straight."

"You are," Vin said immediately.

That triggered a snort of amusement from Larabee. "Yeah, well, maybe not quite as straight as either of us thought."

"Chris-"

"Look," the blond interrupted, "these dreams... They're... I'm... Damn. I want you to stay tonight."

Vin's eyes rounded. "What?"

"You heard me, damn it."

"Chris, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Look, it's try it out, or I'll have to keep changing the sheets every morning. I'm getting tired of doing the damn laundry."

That comment had Vin's mouth opening to reply, then closing when he couldn't come up with anything, then opening again... Finally, he squeaked, "You're askin' me t' sleep with ya?"

"I'm asking you to do more than sleep," Larabee replied dryly.

Vin just stared at the man.

"Jesus, Vin, I don't know how I'm supposed to ask a man to-"

Vin burst out laughing.

"What the hell's so funny?" Larabee demanded.

"Chris, you were married. You're het. Y' don't need t' worry about that."

"I'm not worry about my heterosexuality," Chris countered. "I just want to know if I'm... bi, or whatever. These dreams—"

"Just forget about the dreams," Vin told him.

"I can't."

"Chris, you don't really want—"

"Goddamn it, Tanner, don't tell me what I want!"

Vin sighed and sagged back against the sofa. "I— I can't."

"But you're the one who said he loved me!

"And that's why I can't sl— fuck you. I'm not gonna do it!"

"Make love to me, you mean."

"Whatever."

"No, not whatever. Vin, you say you love me; you have to give me a chance to understand how I love you. I do, you know."

Vin dipped his head, his cheeks having gone red. "Yeah, I know, but not like that - not like I love you. And that's okay. I'm happy to be your friend. That's enough."

"Well, maybe it's not enough for me anymore, okay?"

"Well, it ought t' be."

"Well, it's not. C'mon, Vin, I know this is what you want. All I'm asking is to give me a chance to see if it's what I want, too."

"But it can't be what you want."

Chris huffed out a long-suffering sigh. "You know how crazy this sounds?"

"I didn't start this!"

"Jesus, Vin," Larabee huffed, pushing to his feet. He walked to the sliding glass doors and stood, looking out at the darkness. "You know, I think you're more scared about this than I am."

Vin pushed to his feet, too. "Yeah? Well, you're right. I am scared. I'm scared this is gonna be too much for y'... that you'll get tried of it all and..."

"And what?" Chris asked when Vin trailed off and didn't continue. "Send you away?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"That isn't going to happen."

"We'll see."

"Vin, goddamn it, I'm telling you, I'm not going to send you away. I'm not going to fire you. I'm not going to stop being your friend - no matter what we do tonight."

"We're not doing anything tonight, or any other night," Vin told him, stalking over to the man to drive home his point.

"I just want to see what it's like."

"No."

"If I don't like it, fine - no harm, no foul. But if I do..."

"Chris, how many times to I have to say it? N—"

Chris had talked enough, and he'd heard more than enough. He closed the space between them and grabbed Vin, jerking him to himself and kissing him with all the passion he had once used on Sarah.

Tanner stiffened like there was a live current passing through his body. But Larabee held him tightly and continued to devour his mouth, refusing to release him even when he struggled weakly in the man's grasp. Feeling himself succumb to the man's kiss, Vin moaned.

But that just egged Larabee on, and the older man deepened the kiss, his tongue stealing out to tease at Tanner's closed lips - which parted like they were nothing more than rice paper under the touch. Vin moaned again, this one more piteous than the first.

That sound ignited Chris and his hands began to move, rubbing, exploring, holding... And, before either man knew what had happened, they were deep-throating each other, their groins pressed tightly together, hips grinding their growing hard-ons against one another.

The necessity of breathing eventually forced them to pull apart, both men gulping in air, their eyes locked on one another.

Vin, his eyes wide and panicked, looked like he might bolt at any moment.

Chris licked his lips and said, "Think we better take this into the bedroom."

"Chris," Vin moaned, voice and expression pleading to be released. But the die had been cast, and his body had betrayed him. There was no way he would be able to walk away now. It was like an addiction, and all he wanted was a fix.

Chris stepped up to him, his hand coming up to cup the side of his face. "No, Vin, I can't let you go." And with that, he let his hand slide down Tanner's arm to his wrist, which he captured in a tight grip, pulling the younger man to him, kissing him again - this time eagerly, tenderly... hungrily.

"C'mon," he half-growled into Vin's ear. "Tonight I'm make those fuckin' dreams real."

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

Vin wasn't sure how he'd gotten from the living room to the bedroom, because his knees sure as hell weren't strong enough to hold him on his feet. But here he was... definitely... somehow...

Chris' bedroom... Chris' bed... Chris... A buck-naked Chris... "Oh Jesus," he moaned, feeling his legs turn to pudding.

Larabee was smiling at him. And then he realized why. He was naked, too!

His gaze roamed over Chris' body. He already knew it well, but it was like he was seeing it, really seeing it, for the first time. The man was... amazing. He swallowed hard, feeling the blood beginning to rush south...

Oh shit, he thought, his gaze flickering to his cock, which was pointing straight up at him.

He jumped when Chris' hand closed on his arm, pulling him closer to the man... He whimpered, trying to take a step back, but it was too late. Larabee's lips landed on his mouth and he felt his resolve melt away under the sweetness of the kiss.

Chris felt Vin tremble as he kissed him, heard the man's soft groan as his lips parted to let him in. And in that moment, the blond knew that he was going to have to take the lead, or they'd be going nowhere. Vin was in no condition to show him what to do, to show him what he really wanted from Chris.

But he wasn't sure he knew what to do, either. He'd never made love to a man... But how hard could it be?

The kiss was... different, but still familiar, and good. And his body responded, his cock hardening. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered, Do to him what you like...

And so he did.

Breaking the kiss, he grabbed Vin's shoulders, guiding him back until the backs of his thighs hit the foot of the bed. Tanner slumped, sitting down right there. And, before the man could object, Chris gave him a push, forcing him back onto the mattress.

Vin's eyes widened and he scrambled farther up the bed, using his elbows and feet. He stopped when he hit the pillows.

Thinking he looked comfortable right there, Chris climbed onto the bed, his hands rubbing up Vin's legs as he moved in on the man.

"Chris, y' don't—"

Larabee decided to forgo any long foreplay and reached straight for Tanner's obviously needy cock. He thought for a moment Vin might just pass out when his fingers closed around the thick, veiny shaft, the man's eyes rolling back as he closed them with another whimper.

"Chris... please..." he whined quietly.

The blond grinned, pulling the rigid member down so he could lean in and lick over the already weeping slit. The taste of the man's juice was better than he'd expected - sweet and salty and all... Vin. He licked over the wine-red head, swirling his tongue over the spongy surface, then licking under the sensitive glans.

Tanner made a noise that sounded like he was growling and choking at the same time.

Chris sucked the flared head into his mouth and hummed.

"Ah shit!" Vin gasped, his hips bucking up, trying to bury himself deeper into the moist heat of Larabee's mouth.

Chris let the man's cock slide in a little deeper so he could lave his tongue over the pulsing shaft.

"Chris!" Vin cried. "I'm—"

Larabee recognized the tone of Tanner's voice and he squeezed the base of the man's shaft, hoping to stall his orgasm, but it was already too late.

"Chris," the man grunted, his hips thrusting, no longer under his control.

Keeping his hold on Vin's cock, Chris tried to force as much of it as he could take into his mouth, lips and tongue working on it. And that was more than the younger man could take. His fingers curled into the bedspread, his head arched back and his body convulsed. Then he was shooting down Chris' throat.

Larabee swallowed the man's seed, losing himself in the taste. He suckled on the head until there was nothing left and he could feel the shaft going soft in his hand. He pulled off, licking his lips and looking down at Tanner.

Vin had sagged back on the pillows, his arms thrown wide, and was panting for breath, his eyes closed. He looked... incredible.

Chris shifted position, straddling the man's chest, and leaning forward to rub his own leaking cock-head over the man's parted lips. That brought Vin's eyes open, and he stared at the blond's long dick, his tongue darting out to lick off the precome smeared across his lips.

Chris leaned forward, pressing the tip of his cock to Tanner's lips.

Vin kissed it, then his tongue slipped out to lick over the head, lapping up the precome before he sucked the head into his mouth.

"Oh, God..." Larabee breathed. He reached out, cupping Vin's head in his hands, and began to slowly pump into the man's mouth. His eyes closed and his head fell back... Vin was sucking on him, humming, using the length of his tongue to rub along the sensitive underside of his cock.

His fingers tightened, holding Vin as his hips picked up speed. The incredible heat of Tanner's mouth was nearly overwhelming. The sucking made it feel so tight, too... "Ah... Christ..."

Vin's hands came up, grabbing at the blond's hips, pulling him in closer and forcing more of Larabee's cock down his throat.

And the feel of his cock-head hitting the back of Vin's mouth was all he could take. He rode into his mouth twice more and then felt his orgasm shake him, and he was coming, shooting down Tanner's throat until he was suddenly afraid he might strangle the man. But Vin seemed to be fine, sucking on him, draining him...

And when it was over, he climbed clumsily off Vin and collapsed next to him, pulling him into his arms and holding him while Tanner cried.

"Vin, what's wrong?" he whispered against the man's temple.

But the younger man just shook his head.

"Tell me... Please."

"Just never... Never thought..."

Chris understood, and he pulled the man in closer, holding him tightly. "I'm right here," he said quietly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Vin nodded, but he was still scared. There were things that were still wrong between them: Chris' excessive mother-henning, for one, and his apparent inability to let him take any "chances." But their lives were full of chances, and he simply couldn't do his job without taking some. But those were conversations for another time. Right now, all he wanted to do was lose himself in the feel of the man holding him... The rest would wait...

Continued in Deep Breath

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