Pairings: Chris/Vin, Buck/Ezra

Acknowledgements: Many thanks to KET who told me it wasn't probable, but it was possible, to Kimber and Renegade who pointed out the flaws, and to all those who've been waiting for their Birthday gift for the last six years.

Notes: This was begun in December, 2003 as a birthday gift for Black and Buckskin members who celebrated their birthdays that month, and who wanted the hurt (and comfort) heaped on ATF Chris Larabee. Over the course of the last 5 and a half years, it has also developed a secondary storyline involving Buck and Ezra. Please forgive me, but it doesn't end (in this story at least) well.

The title comes from the song, "The Greatest Gift of All" by John Jarvins

File Size: Approx. 300K

WARNING: Forced sex and descriptions of past, physical and sexual abuse of an OC

Knowing you're in love with me
Is the greatest gift of all

Vin Tanner sighed as he reached across the bed only to find himself alone. Opening his eyes to confirm what he already knew, he breathed a sigh. "Shit."

Pulling himself out of the big bed, he padded from the room, down the hall and into the den. In the soft glow of the computer, he saw the man he sought. Moving across the room with an unconscious grace, he folded his arms across the high back of the desk chair. "Thought you were gonna get a full eight hours tonight."

Without looking up, Chris Larabee said, "Couldn't sleep anyway."

"Bullshit." Tanner's voice held a note of anger. The same thing had happened every night for three weeks now. Larabee would sleep for two or three hours and then he'd be back at the computer.

"Vin," the blond sighed the name, sounding more than a little annoyed. "You know how important it is for me to get all these reports ready. If we want all the funding we're going to need for next year, all the 'i's' have to be dotted, the 't's' crossed, and every report ready for review by January first."

"Yeah, but it's only November thirtieth, and you already look like hell, cowboy. Look, c'mon back to bed... let me give ya a back rub..." his words trailed off as he reached out to run his fingers through the short blond hair. His partner's response, however, had him snatching it back before he made contact.

"Vin damn it! If you're horny, go jerk off and let me alone!"

"Fuck you, Larabee," Tanner growled in a soft, deadly tone. He turned and stalked from the room in stiff-legged anger.

Behind him, Chris groaned softly, leaning back in the chair. Scrubbing a slightly trembling hand over his face and through his rumpled hair, he cursed himself. Pushing himself up, he leaned over the desk for several seconds as a wave of vertigo caught him. Then, as soon as his vision cleared, he moved through the house. He needed to make amends with his lover.

Going to the big bedroom they shared, he groaned as he found it empty. A quick check of the bathroom told him that Tanner wasn't there either. Stepping back into the hall, he saw that the door to the guest room was slightly ajar, and the soft light of the bed lamp telling him exactly where Vin was.

He leaned his exhausted body against the doorjamb; Chris cursed himself for letting the stress of the job get to him. His partner didn't deserve the way he had just treated him, and he needed to make it right. As he stood there watching, the light went out.

Pushing away from the doorway, he slipped back down the hall, pausing at the door Vin had put between them. He raised his hand to knock, but drew it back before he touched the wood.

Tomorrow.

Inside, Vin listened to the soft footfalls retreat back down the hall toward the den. Anger filled the finely chiseled features, quickly replaced by sadness. Pulling the cold covers up over himself, he turned on his side. Wrapping his arms around himself, he closed his eyes but didn't go back to sleep.

In the den once more, Chris started toward the computer only to stagger as another wave of dizziness threatened to fell him. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed hold of the couch to steady himself. Pressing the heel of his other hand to his forehead, he took several breaths through his mouth. As the spell passed, he straightened and continued on his way. Dropping to the still warm desk chair, he tried to banish the lingering thought of one of Tanner's back rubs. It didn't look as if he'd be enjoying one of those any time soon.

Tomorrow. He'd talk to his lover and patch things up tomorrow.

~o~

The cold light of dawn found little warmth within the rambling ranch house. The two men moved around one another warily, the usual ease they knew with one another lost. They spoke only when they had no other option, silence filling the air around them the rest of the time.

Vin fixed breakfast, silently noting that Chris' meal remained untouched when he left the kitchen to shower. Everything had been cleaned up when he returned, but he didn't ask if Larabee had eaten anything. Without a word, he took the keys to the Ram, leading the way to where the big black truck waited. Pressing the button on the key fob, he listened to the Ram respond with a soft growl as the engine started. He couldn't help but think how much like Chris it sounded.

Sliding behind the wheel, he waited for the blond to climb into the passenger seat. He heard the soft 'thump' of the man's laptop as it hit the seat between them. Fighting the temptation to toss the damned piece of electronic slavery out the window, Vin slipped the truck into gear and started down the drive.

~o~

The trip was as silent as the rest of their morning had been. It wasn't the normal quiet that the two men typically shared either. Rather, it was an oppressive silence that made the air seem heavy and uncomfortable.

Tanner slanted a look across the truck's cab, his anger and sadness softening. Chris sat huddled inside his heavy black coat, head leaning against the cool glass of the widow. Even though his eyes were closed, he could tell that the blond wasn't resting. There wasn't a hint of relaxation in the lean frame, the lines of his face holding long weeks of tension in their embrace.

Chris could feel his lover's gaze on him but didn't respond. He had planned to try and smooth things over with the younger man this morning. But when it came down to it, he couldn't find the words or the energy to do anything but feel badly about his behavior.

As the truck glided easily along the highway, he felt the headache that had been threatening begin to bloom full force behind his eyes. The pain brought with it a surge of nausea and he prayed he could keep from getting sick sitting there in the cab. Not that it would matter much anyway. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten anything.

Once again, he cursed his role as team leader. There had always been far too much paperwork and bureaucracy inherent in the position. The past couple of years, however, it had increased even more. Each team in the Bureau had to prove themselves worthy of a budget that never seemed to stretch far enough. By the end of the calendar year, he and the other senior agents were like a pack of wolves circling a single, wounded deer. He was bound and determined to prove himself the alpha male.

"Chris?"

The blond blinked his eyes open wearily, his gaze tracking toward the soft voice. Seeing his younger lover watching him, he forced himself to straighten in the seat. "Yeah?"

"We're here," the Texan said as he exited the cab.

Larabee grabbed his laptop, grunting at how heavy the slender piece of equipment seemed. With sluggish steps, he followed behind the quickly retreating figure. By the time he cleared the guard area just beyond the door; Vin had already disappeared into an elevator. He heaved a sigh and shuffled across the lobby, heading for the elevator as well.

A short time later, the blond entered the main area of their suite. The room was empty, the other members of the team waiting for him in the conference room. Not even bothering to take his coat off, he stopped only long enough to pour himself a cup of coffee before joining them.

~o~

"Chris?"

Larabee blinked, registering the fact that someone had spoken his name. Raking his eyes across the table, he tried to decipher who it had been. Failing that, he simply said, "What?"

"Does that work for you? Do you see any holes in the plan?" Buck Wilmington asked.

"Holes in the plan?" the blond asked vaguely.

Frowning, the big agent said, "Did you hear anything we just went over?"

"Go over it again," the senior agent snapped.

Ezra Standish and Josiah Sanchez, sitting closest to their team leader, exchanged a concerned look. None of them had missed the gray cast to the man's face, the pinched and haggard features and the tired slump of the lithe frame.

Taking the bull by the horns, Josiah said, "Chris, why don't you go on back home? We can - "

The room rang with a sharp sound as Larabee slapped his hand against the table. "I don't need anyone telling me what to do! Now I said go over it again!"

The room grew painfully quiet, the other six agents staring at the blond. After a few seconds, the subject of their scrutiny said in a tightly measured tone, "Josiah, take over." Pushing away from the table, the tall man stormed from the room. He left in his wake a group of men whose faces were filled with worry, concern and frustration.

~o~

The morning passed slowly, the office under a heavy pall that kept the team members on edge. There was little conversation and none of it related to anything but work. Even their movements seemed forced and deliberate.

Inside his private office, Chris sat hunched over his desk. He still wore his coat, wrapped tightly around his shivering frame. He had checked the room's thermostat but found it set at a comfortable temperature. He rubbed at eyes that stubbornly refused to focus, gamely trying to concentrate on the screen before him. He had already adjusted the view to increase the font size, but the words continued to swim before his eyes.

His wandering mind touched on the thought that the frustration he felt in trying to read the dancing words must be something akin to what Vin felt. He promised himself that he would work harder to understand his partner's reading disability. He promised to be more understanding when Tanner turned in a poorly written report.

The thought of the slender young Texan sent his mind off in another direction. He knew he'd been difficult to live with at best during the past few weeks. The patience the younger man had shown was above and beyond for a co-worker, friend or lover and Vin had taken on all three roles. Vin had taken his bad moods, negligence and downright abusive behavior in stride and had responded with understanding, concern and love.

He had to make it up to the man.

Those warm and fuzzy feelings quickly disappeared as someone rapped sharply at the door at the same time it was shoved open. He leveled a glare at the intruder who turned out to be the recent focus of his wandering thoughts.

Shrugging off the look, Vin slipped further into the room. He carried a white bag in one hand and a large bottle of water in the other. Coming to stand across the desk from the blond, he said evenly, "brought ya some lunch," as he sat the bag on the dark surface.

Ripping the paper down one side, he pulled out a variety of articles. "Brought ya some soup... a sandwich... apple... crackers... and Nate says you're to eat it all and drink th' water."

"Later," Chris said brusquely, regretting it even as he did.

"Now," Vin growled back. "Ya can't live on coffee and a bad mood."

"I don't recall asking for any of your smartass comments."

Anger flaring, Tanner said, "Fine. Suit yourself." He turned on his heel and strode back across the room.

Cursing himself, the blond leapt to his feet, trying to push aside the blackness that crept into the edges of his vision. "Vin!"

The Texan's back stiffened as if expecting a blow. With one hand on the doorknob, he turned slowly, simply waiting.

"Vin, I'm... I'm sorry," he stammered, leaning heavily against his desk. Chris frowned as he tried to make out his lover's face in the gathering fog.

"V-Vin... I... I didn't... wasn't... I'm..." He couldn't keep his thoughts together long enough to finish the sentence. Then he felt his knees buckle as everything turned gray. "Oh... damn... Vin?!"

And he was there. Chris felt strong arms around him, gathering him in a secure embrace.

"Take it easy. C'mon, let's get ya over to th' couch. Think ya can make it?" With a slight nod in answer, Tanner guided the weakened man the few steps to the couch. Lowering Larabee to the black cushions, he supported him as he lay back with a groan. Vin gently lifted the man's long legs onto the couch, pulling his boots off.

The blond couldn't find the strength to open his eyes but heard his partner moving around the room. Then he felt something draped over him, the added warmth doing what it could to chip away at the ice that seemed to have taken over his entire being. As a hand tenderly stroked against his face, he nuzzled against it with a soft groan.

"I'm sorry." The words were delivered in a whisper.

Frowning, eyes still closed, Chris asked, "what do you ha-have to be sorry... for?"

"I should a pushed harder to get ya to rest. Should a done... somethin'."

Smiling wanly, the blond asked, "Think I'd have listened... to you?"

"Probably not."

Pulling a hand from beneath the blanket Vin had covered him with; Chris reached for the hand resting against his jaw. Squeezing briefly, he said, "I'm the one that should say... I'm sorry. I've put you through hell."

Pressing his lips against the man's forehead, Tanner said, "Shh. We'll talk 'bout it later... right now, let's get some lunch in ya and see if that helps."

Chris started to protest several times but didn't. He found himself enjoying the attention his partner lavished on him. Vin propped him up against the arm of the couch, leaving his side just long enough to retrieve the container of soup from his desk.

Perching on the edge of the couch, the blue eyed man began to carefully feed the warm soup to his lover. He watched as Chris finally opened his eyes, looking up at him with a mixture of love and embarrassment. "Get that guilt outta yer head, Larabee," he drawled. "Ya can't help it if yer too stubborn for your own good."

Humor flashing in those glassy eyes, Chris started to reply only to find a spoonful of beef noodle soup in his mouth. After a few more bites, he let his eyes slide shut once more only to feel his jaw being tenderly stroked.

"Don't be goin' to sleep on me just yet. Let's see how much a this we can get down ya 'fore Nate gets back from lunch. Ya know he's gonna have a conniption."

Larabee groaned at that thought. Their medically trained teammate was going to have a field day saying 'I told you so'. "He doesn't have to know," he suggested hopefully.

"C'yuh, yeah, right," the Texan huffed. "Ya think I'm gonna try and lie to the man, ya got another think comin'."

"If he doesn't come in here though... all I need is a little more rest and I'll be good as new."

"Sure, that's right. Ya haven't took your coat off in to five hours we been in the office. Your 'bout as white as one a Ezra's dress shirts 'n them circles under your eyes make ya look like a 'coon. Hate to tell ya this, cowboy, but even JD's picked up on the fact your sick."

Larabee sighed. He knew Vin was right. With a resigned nod, he said, "You're right."

"Usually am," Tanner replied.

"Smug bastard," he groused.

"Yep," Tanner agreed. "Now, shut up and let's get the rest of this down ya. Is it sittin' okay?"

Nodding, Chris replied, "Better than the coffee I had earlier." He grimaced at the thought of the strong brew.

With a sage expression on his handsome face, Vin said, "That's 'cause Buck beat Josiah to the pot."

"Wonder it hasn't already killed off whatever this is," the blond muttered.

Leaning forward to kiss the other man's clammy forehead, the Texan said, "what this is, is bein' one a them damn type 'A' personalities."

Giving his partner a pained expression, the senior agent said, "Guess I deserved that."

"Ya deserve a helluva lot more than that," Tanner said. Then, as he tenderly stroked a hand down the pale face he added, "Reckon they can wait 'til ya get to feelin' better though."

One side of his mouth lifting in a faint smile, Chris said, "Great... looking forward to it."

They fell into an easy silence then, the first they had shared for weeks. Vin continued to spoon the hearty soup for his partner, Chris laying quietly on the couch. That he allowed the attention without complaint was the clearest indication of just how badly he was feeling.

~o~

Larabee finished the soup, nibbled at the crackers and drank most of the water. After that he shuffled to the little bathroom attached to his office, Vin at his elbow to the door. By the time the rest of Team Seven returned from lunch, Chris was curled up on the couch, snoring softly.

Vin stepped out into the bullpen, quickly filling the others in on what had happened. He wasn't surprised to see the relief on their faces even as they expressed their concern. All of them had been secretly waiting what Nathan called 'the carpet cure'. They knew that the only thing that would pull Larabee out of his self-destructive tailspin was simply falling on his face.

Jackson slipped into the little office to check Chris out while Ezra called Travis and wrangled a few days off for both Larabee and Tanner. After all, someone would need to ride roughshod over the ill man.

In his office, the blond flinched when a pair of chilly hands pressed lightly just beneath his jaw line. Not bothering to look, he growled, "You stick your hands in the freezer, Nathan?"

"Yeah, just for you."

"Part of my punishment?"

"You think you need to be punished?"

Sighing, Larabee said, "No, but I figure you think so."

"Wouldn't do a bit of good," the dark man scolded. "You never learn your lesson."

"The doctor can see him at 4:30," Buck Wilmington announced from the door.

"I don't need -" Chris started to argue. Then he stopped, hearing the breathless rasp his voice had become. Frowning up into the warm brown eyes, he groused, "It's just a bug."

"You're right," Jackson agreed, surprising the blond. Then he continued, "It's a bug most likely... complicated by the fact that you're stressed out, overworked and just plain run down. You've got to take a break, or you're gonna end up in the hospital for the holidays. Is that what you want?"

"What I want is for everyone to stop hovering... I've still got work to do." He didn't see the other men exchanging looks of frustration as he moved to push himself upright. He made it as far as sitting up then with a groan he slumped against the back of the couch. Running a quaking hand over his clammy face, he softly moaned, "Ah... shit."

"Yeah," Nathan said compassionately as he helped the blond settle back down on the thick cushions. "Now, you ready to give it up for today?"

Shaking his head as the edge of his tongue slid across his lips, Larabee said, "Got too much... to do."

"Chris," a deep voice broke into the conversation. As the watery hazel eyes found him, Josiah Sanchez continued, "Ezra and I can go over the files and get them into shape. You can fill us in on what we need to do from right there. You need to rest, boss."

Larabee heaved a sigh but nodded finally. "Yeah... yeah, okay. You're probably right."

"Ouch, that had to hurt," Jackson quipped.

Rolling his eyes, the senior agent said, "More than you know."

~o~

The afternoon passed in a quiet flurry of activity. Ezra and Josiah hovered over the senior agent's desk, lining up the work they would need to do under the blond's supervision. Out in the main area of the suite, Buck and JD worked to reorganize the team's agenda to accommodate their missing two agents for the next several days. Nathan divided his time between helping the other two agents and checking on the ill man.

Vin, too, divided his time. He wrapped up his own work as much as possible, wanting to be free to dote on his lover while he recuperated. He took breaks from time to time, however, coming to check on the blond.

Larabee slipped in and out of a light sleep while the others worked around him. He responded to the occasional question that came from the two men at his desk. He tolerated their medically trained teammate as he took his temperature, checked his throat and generally kept on top of his condition. His usual glare had little effect on the other man, however, and he found himself submitting to being checked over more often than he felt was necessary.

When Vin came to check on him though, he was more willing to submit to the other's touch. He drank the water or juice that the man brought each time, and only smiled when the long fingers tenderly stroked his face.

As the mid afternoon sun cast a weak light in the room, Vin frowned as he gently touched his lover's face. He looked up, calling Nathan into the room. When the big man appeared, he asked softly, "He feel warmer to you?"

Reaching down, Jackson laid his hand on Chris' forehead. "Maybe a little."

"You two mind?" Larabee growled. "I feel like a Thanksgiving turkey."

With a wicked grin, the Texan said, "Yeah? Well, we'll see about stuffin' - "

"Vin!" The blond yelped, his eyes darting to the other men in the room.

Turning to Jackson, smile growing even wider, Tanner said, "Reckon he ain't too far gone yet."

Rolling his eyes, Nathan moved away, muttering under his breath.

Shrugging his shoulders, the slender man said, "Well, I thought it was funny."

Still glaring at his younger lover, Larabee said, "Yeah, but I caught you laughing at one of JD's jokes last week, too."

~o~

Finally, the time to leave arrived. To their concern, Larabee's fever continued to rise, leaving him groggy and listless. Vin called his name for a third time before the ill man responded. Blinking open unfocused eyes, the blond simply stared up at him.

"Time to go to the doctor, cowboy."

"It's just a bug... doctor's just going to tell me that and send me home."

"That's fine, but we're still gonna go see 'im. Now, can ya walk or ya wanna have us carry ya - "

"Don't you dare even finish that sentence," Larabee growled in a rough voice.

Smirking, the slender Texan stood from where he had been kneeling beside the couch. Reaching down, he pulled the other man up as well. He stood still, an arm supporting his partner. When he saw that Chris wasn't recovering from the dizziness caused by the change of position, he said, "Nate, think we could use some help here."

Larabee wanted to argue that he was fine but couldn't manage to form the words. He was vaguely aware of Jackson coming to his side and felt the other two men leading him toward the door. He managed a deep breath and pulled himself a little straighter. Bad enough he had to be helped to his truck at all, he didn't want it to look as if he was being carried.

~o~

They managed to get Chris to the parking garage where his black Ram waited for them. Nathan kept him upright while Vin opened the passenger door. Between the two of them, they got the blond into the truck, the lean body slumping on the seat.

Turning to Tanner, Jackson said, "You sure you can take it from here? I could go with you."

With a broad smile, Vin said, "We'll be fine, doc. I'll call y'all when we get home, let'cha know what the doctor says, all right?"

Nodding, the big man said, "You need anything, call... anything. Hear me?"

Touching the brim of an imaginary hat, the sharpshooter said, "Will do."

~o~

Half an hour later, the two men were sitting in a small examination room, waiting for the general practitioner to come in. Chris had rallied on the trip over and had walked in under his own steam, then dropped tiredly onto one of the chairs in the waiting room. Vin was left to sign his partner in at the reception desk before settling in beside him.

Waiting for his name to be called, Chris had leaned back in the chair, blond head propped against the wall. Beside him, Vin had fought the urge to wrap an arm around the ill man. The signs of illness had been even more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lights. They had sat quietly, letting the muffled conversations and other office noises wash over them.

When the nurse called his name, Larabee had pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He slanted a glare when he felt Vin slipped one hand under his elbow. Tanner simply favored him with one of his more maddening smiles.

"Goin' with ya, ya know as well as I do ya won't remember half of what the doc tells ya."

They had been ushered into the exam room, the blond directed to the paper covered examination table, his blood pressure, temperature and other vital signs taken. The nurse had 'tsked' when she saw the thermometer read out, informing them that his temperature was 102.1 degrees

Chris had stretched out on the narrow and uncomfortable little bed. He had grimaced as lying flat caused the dull ache in his chest to grow, and his back felt as if he was lying on a bed of nails.

"Sit up," had been the softly drawled instruction.

He had done so with the help of a strong arm and felt the upper section of the table raised. Settling back, Chris had sighed as the pain eased and breathing came easier.

The wait seemed to be taking forever. Both Nathan and Buck called Vin's cell phone looking for updates. Finally, however, the door opened and Dr. Frank Garry entered the small room.

Taking a look at the tall blond, Garry shook his head. "The bad guys aren't doing enough damage you've got to beat yourself up, too?"

Managing a faint smile, Chris replied, "Not me, it's the bureaucracy I have to deal with."

When the physician looked in his direction for clarification, Vin grinned. "Larabee's been under the gun for about three weeks, Doc, tryin' to get everything ready for the annual budget."

"Ahh," Garry nodded his understanding.

"He ain't been sleepin' or eating much. The stress is enough to kill an elephant, and that glare a his is on high 24/7." Tanner didn't miss the fact that one of those glares was shot in his direction.

Having been the recipient of those twin hazel lasers, Frank Garry nodded knowingly. Referring to the chart in his hand, he said with only a hint of sarcasm, "You're a bit warm."

"So the nurse said, "Chris replied.

"Nausea?"

"No, thanks... got my own."

"Doc, is it just me, or did he just make a joke?" Tanner said in mock seriousness.

"Must be delirious," the doctor said just as seriously. Turning his attention back to Chris as he began his examination, he continued his questioning. "Dizziness?"

"Yeah."

"Chills?"

"Yeah."

"How's your appetite?"

"Don't have one."

A few minutes later, the man finished examining his patient. Settling on a chair, he crossed his arms and leveled a gaze on the blond. "I'd imagine that Nathan has already told you that it's influenza complicated by your general poor health right now."

"He call you?" Larabee asked.

"Nope," Frank said. He knew the medically trained agent would have already looked Chris over. "He's right, of course. There's a nasty strain going through the area right now."

"So what's he need to do, Doc?" Vin asked.

"Complete bed rest for the next 72 hours. I don't want him out of bed for any longer than going to the bathroom." Turning to Chris, he continued. "I'm going to give you a script for Tamiflu ^©. It's an antiviral and should help shorten the length of time that you're ill. Given how run down you are, we need to keep on top of this so that you don't develop bronchitis or - worse yet - pneumonia. Make certain to eat something with it... whether you've got an appetite or not. Get some applesauce or something like that. You may have some nausea, you may vomit, but it won't last long."

Handing the small square of paper to Vin, he said, "You know the drill. Keep him quiet and in bed. Ibuprophen ^© for the pain, and as much fluid as he can take. If his fever doesn't go down within the next three days, bring him back in."

"Will do, Doc." Tanner took the prescription, shaking the other man's hand at the same time.

After the physician left, Vin moved over to stand beside his lover. Rolling his eyes as he saw that the older man had drifted off once more, he gently ran the knuckles of his hand along one flushed cheek. As the glassy eyes opened, he said, "C'mon sleepin' beauty, let's get ya home so ya can get some true rest."

Knowing that arguing he needed to get more work done would be futile, Chris said nothing. He allowed himself to be helped to his feet and out the door.

~o~

A few minutes later, they were once more on the road. Vin told the drowsy man that they would be stopping at the pharmacy and then they would be going straight home. That said, he retrieved his cell phone and called Nathan Jackson. After being quizzed in-depth by the former EMT, Tanner asked him to let the others know. He also asked that the others wait at least a couple of days before calling or stopping by. He gave the reason that he wanted to keep everything as quiet as possible and having his teammates around would just have Larabee chomping at the bit to get back to work.

It was the truth even if it wasn't the entire story. The two of them needed to get back on an even keel and that would be best accomplished if they had the time to themselves.

Getting Jackson's agreement, Vin disconnected from the call just as he was entering the pharmacy parking lot. Pulling into a space, Tanner parked but didn't turn the engine off. Nudging the other man he said, "Chris, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm gonna get your meds and stock up on juice and stuff. Anything in particular ya want?"

Shaking his head, Larabee said, "Just don't break the bank buying up all the chocolate."

"There's that sense a humor a yours again, pard." Resisting the urge to kiss his lover, Vin reached over and gently squeezed a hand. Reluctantly letting go and exiting the vehicle, he left the door unlocked so he wouldn't have to depend on Chris being awake enough to let him in. He moved quickly into the building.

~o~

Chris drifted from one thought to another as the fever continued to sap him of all but the vaguest sense of consciousness. He lay back on the seat, listening to the quiet hum of the engine and the soft hiss of the heater. His foggy mind called up one of the last happy memories he could summon. It had been a quiet Saturday night...

~o~

The rest of the team had been over for an afternoon of watching football. He had shooed them out the door after Vin had delivered a whispered threat in his ear. Deciding he didn't think the team would appreciate a floor show consisting of his lover taking him right there in front of the big screen TV, he opted to claim a headache.

Closing the door as the last set of taillights disappeared in the darkness, he had turned to his younger lover. "You're just plain evil, Tanner."

With a lecherous smile, the Texan said, "Couldn't help it... ya just look too damn hot today. It was either that or I was gonna drag ya out to the' barn and jump your bones." As he spoke, Vin slipped in closer, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist. He pressed his mouth against Larabee's full lips, kissing the blond fully and deeply. By the time they broke off, both men were panting.

Dropping his head to his partner's wide shoulder, Chris groaned. "Damn, what you do to me, Tanner."

Rubbing his crotch against the one covered in black denim, Vin smiled as he felt a bulge there. "Reckon I can tell."

Growling low in his throat, Larabee said, "Let's take this into the bedroom... that sound good to you?"

Moaning softly, Tanner managed only, "Mmm... hmmm."

They stumbled through the house, undressing themselves and each other as they went. By the time they reached the bed, both men were naked. The blond pushed his beloved Texan back on the bed, straddling the man's narrow hips.

His hands on either side of the flushed face, Chris said, "What do you want, cowboy?"

Blue eyes wide and dark, the younger man rasped, "Wan'cha to fuck me... hard, Chris. Then I wan'cha to love me... all night long."

And that was exactly what happened. With Vin on his hands and knees before him, he thrust long and hard, burying his cock deep within the tight, willing ass. Holding tight to the trim waist, he kept the other man still as he rocked harder and faster. The walls echoed with Vin's cries of excruciating pleasure.

He ignored the other man's cock until the very last. As he felt himself nearing orgasm, he pulled Tanner up and back, seating the younger man hard against his thighs. Long fingers wrapped around the thick, weeping shaft. He began to pump it with firm, sure strokes, his own cock pulsing inside his lover's ass.

The younger man arched and bucked, slamming himself down on the rock hard cock. He cried out wordlessly, then screamed Chris' name as he felt himself filled with the other man's seed. A second later, his own hot cum sprayed the air as he cried out once more.

Slowly their bodies calmed the two men dropping to the bed, sighing simultaneously as they parted. Larabee rolled to his back, Vin tucked up beside him. They lay that way for several minutes, simply enjoying one another's closeness.

Recovering a short time later, they began making love. Slowly, tenderly, the men explored one another's bodies.

Chris rained warm, feather light kisses down the lithe frame, leaving Vin writhing in ecstasy beneath him. He continued to explore the tan flesh with his mouth until he completely shattered the younger man's mind. He leaned up on one elbow, watching as the Texan trembled, his body quivering through the end of a second orgasm. As cloudy eyes blinked up at him, he smiled. "How's that?"

"Reckon that was... just about... the best... ever," Vin rasped breathlessly.

It was the blond's turn next. Tanner covered every single inch of the tall, well-honed body with warm, erotic kisses. He nipped and sucked the golden flesh, leaving hard muscle rippling with excitement. He spent long minutes kissing and sucking at each toe, leaving Larabee whimpering with pleasure. He kissed each instep before moving back up the long body.

Chris was a quivering mass of nerve endings before he finally, mercifully, wrapped his lips around the man's weeping cock. It took only a few strokes of Vin's tongue to bring him to climax, the shivering body thrashing on the mattress.

They made love through the long night and into the early hours of the morning. They stopped only when their sated bodies could do nothing more, leaving them lying exhausted in one another's arms.

~o~

Inside the pharmacy, Vin grabbed up one of the little shopping carts at the front of the store. Pushing it before him, he strode through the aisles, taking the quickest way to the counter at the back. Dropping off the prescription, he found he had at least fifteen minutes to kill.

Wandering through the store, Tanner gathered up several things for his ailing partner then added a few things for himself. Smiling when he saw large bags of peanut butter macadamia white chocolate chip cookies, he tossed two bags into the cart.

Strolling past a DVD display, a copy of the movie "Navy Seals" caught his eye. It was their favorite movie although he and Chris disagreed on the assets of the two lead characters. He wasn't sure why his partner didn't like the blond guy. Frankly, he found the man pretty damn hot. Tanner smiled. Maybe that was why his own blond didn't like the guy.

Vin added a copy of "Tombstone" and one of "Aliens" to the cart. He rationalized the purchases by telling himself that with Larabee confined to bed, he'd need something to keep himself occupied.

~o~

With a sigh, Chris drew his thoughts from that wonderful night. Then he drew another sigh, this one filled with sorrow. That night had been weeks ago; they had barely touched one another since.

He took full blame for everything. His drive toward some sense of superiority over the other senior agents had led him to push his lover away. His need to be the best had built up a wall between himself and the most important person in his life.

Shifting uncomfortably on the seat, he growled, "Larabee, you're a fucking moron. If you lose him you might as well - "

The blond broke off his self-recrimination when he felt a blast of winter air. Opening his eyes he said, "You leave any - "

Once more, he broke off as he found a strange figure entering the truck, slipping into the back seat of the quad cab. They were dressed in black, including gloves and a ski mask that was only slightly out of place considering the cold weather. "Who the hell are you?"

"Not important."

"You're climbing into my truck, I think it is important." He pulled his weary body upright but stopped when the stranger flashed a gun in his direction.

"I wouldn't if I were you."

"Look, I don't know what you want, but you need to know that I'm - "

"Chris Larabee, senior agent for Denver's Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Team Seven. The Magnificent Seven. I know only too well who you are."

Chris tried to focus, trying to identify his assailant by voice alone. He had to hear more. "So you know me... tell me what you want."

A smirk was evident through the bottom opening of the mask. "You'll know what you need to know... when you need to know it. Until then, just keep your mouth shut and sit still."

"You gonna kill me right here?"

With a cold smile, the masked man said, "No one said anyone's getting killed. You do what you're told and you'll come out on the other end alive."

Larabee studied the situation, trying to find a way out. He hadn't unbuckled his seatbelt so by the time he could hit the snap, open the door and roll out, he'd probably be dead. Added to that, he didn't want gunplay in the middle of the crowded parking lot that might endanger innocents.

Vin.

He needed to get away, to keep his lover out of harm's way. "Look, just tell me where we're going and we'll go." As he spoke, he slowly moved to unfasten the belt. The gunman didn't seem to notice the movement, glancing out the windshield toward the store. Feeling the latch give, he continued, "I won't give you any problems, let's just go."

Catching the man's movement, the masked figure turned just as Chris moved toward him. A growl of frustration echoed through the cab. An arm lashed out, gun clenched tight in a gloved hand. It crashed full force and hard against the side of the blond's head.

Larabee cried out as pain exploded through his skull then collapsed against the truck seat, unconscious.

~o~

Vin sighed as he checked his watch again. There were still three people ahead of him and only one register open. He considered just parking the cart, taking the prescription he'd already paid for, and leaving without the other stuff He knew, though, that Chris would need a lot of the items he had picked up. He wasn't certain he wanted to turn around and come back out after getting his ailing lover home. He'd much rather be able to relax and take care of the man. So, swallowing his frustration, he stood there, watching the elderly man at the register searching for the coupons his wife had sent with him.

Watching the man dotter out the door, Vin continued waiting as the next customer argued the price of half her purchases. By the time she snatched up her bags and stormed out the door, he was toying with the idea of simply shooting her and putting them all out of their misery.

The last person ahead of him had only three items, making him hopeful that he could get out to the truck before it ran out of gas. Then he watched the clerk grab the PA mike and his hopes faded. Hearing the call for a price check, he growled under his breath.

Finally... finally, he pushed his cart up beside the counter. Unloading it as quickly as possible, he drummed his fingers on the cart's handle as he waited for the young woman on the other side to begin ringing up his purchases. As the tattoo of agitation grew more insistent, the clerk looked up with a mixture of annoyance and fear on her face. It took him a few seconds to realize why she was watching him, and then he blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Sorry, miss," he mumbled.

Smiling at his embarrassment, the young woman said, "It's okay. You in a hurry?"

Nodding, he said, "Yeah, my... my friend's out in the truck. He's got that flu that's goin' around. I need to get him out to... his house so he can get to bed."

Taking his credit card and swiping it through her register to pay for the purchases, the young woman said, "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he feels better soon."

"Thanks." He nodded, and then neither of them spoke until the register tape printed and he signed on the dotted line. With another nod toward the young woman, he picked up the plastic bags and started toward the door.

As he walked across the front of the building, his words came back to him. "Friend... his house..." He drew a deep breath, wondering why it had to be so damned complicated and why he couldn't bring himself to say 'partner' and 'our house' in public.

He tried to tell himself that it was for Chris' sake and for their careers and that was true to an extent. But deep down, Vin knew that it was for himself too. He had spent far too much of his life being looked at as being 'different' or 'less than'. He wasn't all that certain he wanted that any more. His life had become fuller than he could ever have envisioned. He had the respect of his co-workers; he was doing a job he enjoyed. He had enough money to live comfortably, and he did just that. Most of all, he had Chris Larabee. And, despite the man's current state of mind, that meant more to him than anything else he could ever have.

So why was he so uncomfortable in sharing that?

Shaking his head and running his fingers through his loose curls, the Texan muttered to himself, "Ain't got the' brains to have this debate right now... got too much else to deal with."

He jogged across the parking lot toward the Ram. Opening the driver's side door, his gaze focused on his lover. Chris lay in a loose-limbed sprawl, his head leaning against the back of the seat. Not taking his eyes from the blond, he swung the bags over the backrest to deposit them in the back seat. Just as he climbed behind the wheel though, he sensed that something was wrong.

The barrel of a gun pressed against his neck verified that feeling.

Vin Tanner was known for his ability to sit perfectly still for long periods of time. Never before had he stayed as motionless as he did now, however. Barely even breathing, he waited for the person holding the gun on him to speak.

"Get this thing moving. Out of the lot and to the right."

"Where we goin'?"

"Out of the lot and to the right," his captor repeated in a soft, dangerous tone. The order was punctuated by the gun barrel pressed against his throat.

"Leave Chris here, I'll--" he grunted as the barrel pressed even harder.

"Out and right."

Nodding shortly, he put the truck in gear and pulled out, heading for the exit drive. Turning on his signal, he watched for an opening in the traffic. Pulling on to the busy thoroughfare, he turned to the right.

"What next?"

"Keep going."

"What did ya do to my friend?"

Silence.

"What do ya want with us?"

Silence.

"Look, I'm not for certain what you think your doin', but ya need to listen to me. We're both fed--"

"Federal agents. I know."

Vin frowned as something about the voice struck him as odd. Familiar. He needed to hear more. "All right, ya know what we do for a livin'. Then ya know--"

"That you'll be looked for. Yes, I'm counting on that, Tanner."

"You're using us for bait?"

"No. More like an exchange... To free my Charlie."

Then it hit him. Why the voice sounded familiar, who was holding them at gunpoint. "Charlie... Charlie Carson?"

"Shut up and drive."

The gun was shoved against his neck so hard that he felt it bite into his flesh. But that told him everything he needed to know. "You're Addie Carson, aren't you?"

"I said shut up!" The words were delivered through clenched teeth. Then the black clad figure slid across the seat, and the gun was pressed against Chris' jaw. The unconscious man didn't wake but moaned softly.

Tanner felt the blood leave his face and he nodded. He said nothing more, driving with hands knotted, white-knuckled, around the steering wheel. His heart began to pound as his mind played through the last time he had seen either of the Carsons.

~o~

Putting Charlie Carson away had been one of the first things he had worked on with the team. It had taken months to get the evidence to convict. Several more months had passed going through the legal process. But finally... Finally!... They had seen him convicted and sentenced to life without the possibility of parole. But it hadn't been enough; Carson was a maniacal and sadistic madman who had left a trail of bodies in his wake.

That trail had come far too close to including Chris Larabee. It had been at the blond's bedside in the hospital that he had finally admitted-to himself at least-just how deeply he cared for the other man

Watching the Marshals drag Charlie out of the courtroom in shackles, a bright orange jumpsuit replacing his expensive business suits, had given him some small satisfaction. Looking at his friend sitting beside him had given him a much greater satisfaction.

The blond had been sitting in a wheelchair, looking pale and as fragile as glass. Even so, he had delivered the most damning testimony of the trial.

Suddenly, a scream had drawn everyone's attention from the departing criminal to where Adelaide Carson stood just inside the gallery gate. She screamed the most vicious and deadly curses at her command. Most of them were aimed at him and Chris whom she blamed for everything. It had taken almost twenty minutes for the Marshals to quiet her, dragging her off to cool down in a cell.

They hadn't been able to gather enough evidence to link her to any of Carson's deeds. She would go free. They had found one bit of evidence that pointed to just how warped Charlie and Addie were. While she lived as his wife, Addie Carson was in actuality his niece. She had come to live with him at the age of ten when her parents had both died under mysterious circumstances. By the age of thirteen, she was living as Mrs. Charles Carson.

~o~

"Turn here."

Vin glanced over to see her pointing toward the entrance of a warehouse. As they pulled up to the dock door, she aimed a remote device toward it. He watched the big door roll upward.

As soon as it was high enough, she said, "Inside."

He hesitated only briefly; the sight of her gun pressed against Larabee's throat urged him on. They pulled inside the cavernous building, empty except for a few crates scattered about and discarded papers that whipped up around the Ram.

"Stop... Turn off the truck and hand over the keys."

He knew that this could very well be the last chance for them to escape. Vin took as much time as he could in following her instructions. Pulling the key from the ignition, he intentionally dropped the set to the floor.

"God damn it! Pick it up... now!" Carson yelled.

He leaned down, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a way to get his unconscious lover and himself out of harm's way. Then he jumped as a shot rang out.

"Chris!"

With no concern for his own safety, the slender Texan jumped up and turned swiftly, ready to square off against the armed woman. He found the muzzle of her gun pointed right between his eyes. Then it was moved once again to be pressed against Larabee's throat.

"He's still alive," Carson said evenly, nodding toward the hole in the windshield where her bullet had gone through. Then she added, "For now. If you don't do as you're told, though, I will put a bullet in him. I figure you know enough about me to know I can hit what I aim at. Now, I want your weapons... all of them. Yours and his. Your cuffs and cell phones, too. Don't do anything stupid." The threat was evident in her tone.

He removed his weapons, all but the one strapped to his ankle. Adding his handcuffs and his cell, he started to hand them over.

"The one on your ankle, too," she ordered.

Sighing as he realized just how well she had researched them, Vin reached down and retrieved it. Turning it over to the woman, he followed up by removing the blond's weapons, handcuffs and cell phone. They, too, were given over, leaving them both unarmed and without any means of calling for help.

"Get out, come around and get him out... now."

Opening the door, he climbed from behind the wheel, moving around the front of the truck. As he walked, he looked around desperately for a means of escape. He found nothing. It quickly became evident that by the time he released Chris, pulled the unconscious man from the truck and got him to the distant door, Carson would have ample time to shoot them both dead. Had he been on his own, he would have made the attempt, but he wouldn't take that chance with the other man's life.

Reaching the passenger door, Tanner opened it and leaned in. He unfastened the blond's seat belt. He was also able to get his first good look at the man. Gently turning the waxen face toward him, he saw the blood that had dried along the left side of the man's head. Anger flared in his blue eyes as he stared over the seat at the person who had caused the injury. While he said nothing, he made it very clear that at some point he would kill her.

A sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, drew Vin's attention. Tanner looked to see that the blond was beginning to stir. Stroking a hand down the ashen features, he watched as the man's eyes fluttered opened slightly only to fall closed once more.

"Come on, cowboy," he coaxed gently. "Wake up for me, okay? "

Chris moaned once again, eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids, but he didn't wake up. Carefully, Tanner pulled him from the truck, holding him close against his body as he coaxed the semi-conscious man to stand. He was able to get him conscious enough to move along beside him although he doubted that Chris was truly aware of what was going on. Literally under the gun, they moved in the direction Carson indicated, walking toward the far wall. There, they found the wood and wire door of a freight elevator. Carson hit the button, the door sliding open. Waving them inside, she followed, closing the door behind them. Pressing another button, she sent the elevator downward.

Vin felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched ancient brick walls pass by outside the door. He struggled with the feelings of claustrophobia, knowing that he would need to keep his wits about him if they had any hope of escape. But his hopes faded at the thought of the fact that they were going deep beneath the ground.

The big car eventually came to a halt, and the woman pressed the button to open the door. "Let's go. Head out and go left."

Tanner looked into the darkness, unable to see anything beyond the confines of the elevator. "Where the hell we goin'?"

"Move."

Pulling Chris upright from where he had slumped against him, Vin coaxed softly, "Come on, pard, you can do it. Just hang on to me, I got your back."

If Larabee heard him, he gave no indication, simply clinging to the man beside him as he struggled to move. The two men stepped out into the dark corridor, Tanner hesitating as he fought to get his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Carson stepped up behind them, running her hand along the wall until she located a light switch. Flipping it on, she activated a series of lights along the long walkway. They did little to chase away the shadows, but at least they could see where they were going.

They moved forward, Vin all but carrying the blond now. Chris struggled greatly, knees buckling time and again as his legs refused to support him. The Texan continued to encourage him, his voice barely a whisper as he said, "Jist hold on, Chris, not much farther. Just a few more steps." He glanced back at their assailant, wondering if he was telling the truth.

Addie simply stared at him for several seconds; it seemed as if she wouldn't answer. Then finally she said, "At the end of the corridor."

They moved on. It seemed to take hours rather then minutes, seemed to be miles rather than yards, but finally they reached their destination. The woman motioned them to stand against the far wall as she unlocked and opened a door.

"In here." She canted her head toward the interior of the room.

"And what if we don't?"

In answer, Carson fired the gun, sending a bullet barely an inch above Chris' head. "You watch him die."

Anger flaring, the Texan carefully guided his partner into the room. Carson moved in behind them, once more activating a light switch, the room now flooded with light. Just then Chris collapsed completely, hanging limply from the other man's grasp.

"Hang on, I got ya."

"There's a bed over there," Carson indicated by pointing her gun.

Vin looked to see a large quilt-covered bed in one corner of the room. Swiftly, he lifted the now unconscious man into his arms and carried him across the room, settling him on the mattress. Stretching Chris out and making him as comfortable as possible, he pulled the quilts over the trembling frame.

"He needs a doctor," the young agent insisted.

"He'll see a doctor when I see Charlie," the woman said simply. "There's a first aid kit in the bathroom, you'll make do with that until then."

"Your crazy if ya think they're gonna give up that bastard ya call your husband to save us."

"They'll give him up or they lose the two of you," Carson countered. "If I don't get Charlie back, the two of you can rot in Hell for all I care. The Feds don't give me back Charlie, this place will be your tomb."

"They'll find you, ya know that."

"If Charlie doesn't go free, nothing else matters."

"Addie, think about what your doin'. Is he worth givin' up everything for?"

"Yes," she said simply. With that she moved quickly out the door, shutting it behind her.

The agent watched for a few seconds to make certain she was truly gone. Then, turning to see that Larabee was quiet, Vin sprinted across the room, shoving hard against the door. It took him only a second to register that it was firmly shut and locked, but he continued to push and pry at it for several minutes longer. Finally, giving up on that avenue of escape for the moment, he turned his attention to the room they were being held in.

The walls were concrete, extending upward fifteen or twenty feet. There were windows along one wall near the ceiling, telling him that the rest of the room was underground. The room was large but empty for the most part. Besides the double bed where he had left his partner, there was a card table and two folding chairs in a corner, a large cabinet standing against one wall and two doors along another.

Stalking over to each of the doors, he searched behind them each in turn. One room had been set up as a crude kitchen with a refrigerator, sink and microwave. The few cabinets there held dry and canned goods and battered dishware and utensils. He turned on the taps and let the water run until it rinsed the rust out of the pipes. At least he would have water to clean Larabee's head wound.

Moving to the next door, he found a bathroom. It was as Spartan as the kitchen with a toilet, sink and metal shower stall. He left the water running in the sink as he rummaged through the closet in one corner. He found a few washcloths and towels and to his relief, discovered a first aid kit on the bottom shelf. Opening it he found it well stocked. With a sigh he retrieved one of the washcloths, wetting it in the sink. Carrying the wash cloth, a towel and the first aid kit, he moved back into the main room.

Setting everything out on the bed beside Larabee, he began wiping the dried blood from the side of the man's face. Chris cried out weakly and tried to move away from the pain. Stroking the knuckles of one hand down the perspiration- soaked face, Tanner said, "Take it easy. I know it hurts, but I've gotta get it cleaned up. Gotta see how deep it is and the last thing ya need right now is an infection on top of everything else. Just lay still and let me take care of this."

As Larabee's struggles quieted, Tanner carefully bathed the area around the bruised skin. Cleaning it as best he could, he followed that with a second bath in an antiseptic wash that had the blond writhing in pain once more. Murmuring apologies constantly, he dried the damp flesh before gently pressing a bandage to the wound, taping it in place.

Going to the kitchen, he rinsed out one of the glasses he found there, filled it half way with water and carried it back to the bed. Kneeling beside his lover, he carefully lifted the man's head and slowly fed him a few sips. When the full lips pressed tight in protest, he set the glass aside and lowered him back to the pillow. Rubbing a thumb over one pale cheek, he said softly, "all right, go on back to sleep. I'm gonna see if I can't find us a way outta this place."

Pushing himself to his feet, Vin took up his exploration again. There was a utility cabinet in one corner that opened to reveal two sets of bed linens and a few sets of clothes. Sweatshirts, sweatpants, socks and underwear. At least he could make Chris a little more comfortable if he didn't find a way out. The cabinet also held a deck of cards and a few old magazines. There was also a flashlight and an old radio. Their crazed jailer seemed to want them to be comfortable, but her preparations also worried him. Just how long was she prepared to keep them captive?

The Texan returned to the door, making a more thorough inspection of the closure. He eyes roamed over the seal; he ran his fingers along the edges. He knelt down and studied the area where the lock should be but could see nothing. There was no knob on the inside of the door, a metal plate bolted and welded where it should be. The seal there was tight as well and he couldn't locate the lock mechanism. Pulling himself to his feet, he was moving back into the kitchen for a knife when he heard the door being unlocked.

"Tanner! I want you where I can see you, "Adelaide Carson ordered through a crack in the door. She pushed it open a little farther, calling again, "I've got my gun on Larabee. Do what you're told unless you want to sit here with his corpse."

Without a word, the slender man walked across the room, placing himself between the door and the bed. "All right, I'm right here."

Carson entered, her gun already trained on the man. The woman held her weapon in one hand, carrying several bags in the other. Setting the bags down, she pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tossed them toward him. "Fasten yourself to that pipe. Now."

He moved to a pipe that ran vertically along the wall several feet from where Chris lay. Reluctantly, he closed one end of the handcuffs to it before fastening the other end around his wrist.

Coming close enough to check that he was secure, she nodded before moving away. She moved over to where Chris lay, clucking her tongue when she saw that he had cleaned and bandaged the man's head wound. "Wish you hadn't done that, now I've gotta hurt him again." That said, she ripped the bandage from the side of his head. Larabee cried out as she pressed against the raw edges of the cut, forcing it to begin bleeding once more.

"What in th' hell do ya think you're doin'!?" Tanner screamed. "Let him the fuck alone, ya stupid bitch!"

Shrugging, she said, "You shouldn't have cleaned it up yet. I need to make certain that they understand that I'm serious here." Leaving Chris laying there writhing and moaning in pain, she retrieved the bags and carried them to across the room, dropping them onto the table.

Vin recognized the bags as those he had carried from the pharmacy earlier. He frowned, trying to understand why she would have brought them with her when she seemed to care so little about them.

As if reading his mind, the woman said simply, "He's sick, no reason for him to get sicker."

She was insane, he decided, clearly insane. Her actions seemed to have no rhyme or reason, one second threatening their lives, the next aiding them. Tanner watched then as she retrieved a camera from her pocket and aimed it toward them. She quickly took several distant shots of both men together then took several more pictures of Chris alone, making certain that the bloody head wound was well visible in each shot. The camera spit out each candid as she snapped, finishing the roll with close ups of Vin.

Her task complete, she walked back across the room. She retrieved a handcuff key, dropping it just close enough that he could reach it if he stretched far enough. With a grim smile, she said, "You won't see me again, unless it's with Charlie." That said, she walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

The sharpshooter wasted no time in retrieving the key and releasing his arm from the handcuff. He moved to where Larabee lay, quiet once more. Opening the little metal box, he once more cleaned the man's head wound, wiping away the fresh blood. Re-bandaging the damaged flesh, he squeezed his lover's shoulder. "S' okay, she's gone now."

Now came the hard part. Moving across to the table, he rummaged around in the bags until he found the amber bottle containing Chris' medications. Pocketing the bottle, he located a small plastic container of applesauce as well as a sports bottle of juice. He frowned as he realized he had no utensils with which to feed the sauce to his lover. Leaving the things behind, he went to the other open door, checking inside. Grabbing up a spoon from the kitchen, he went back to the main room of their little prison.

Setting the supplies on the bed beside the injured man, the young agent pulled the second pillow to him. Gently lifting the older man's head from the bed, he stacked the pillows before settling Chris back. Retrieving the amber bottle, he opened the top and shook the prescribed dosage into his palm. Replacing the cap, he dropped the bottle to the mattress before returning his attention to his soul-mate. Tenderly stroking his thumb across the man's bottom lip, he said, "Need you to wake up. Got something for you."

The injured man didn't quite regain consciousness but opened his mouth under the other's light touch.

The sharpshooter dropped the medication into the open mouth, following it with a drink from the sports bottle. Chris swallowed reflexively, aided by long fingers that gently stroked along his throat. "That's good, swallow it down."

Next, he picked up the little cup of applesauce, pulling the foil lid from the top. Grabbing up the spoon, he stirred the sauce before pressing the utensil against the slack lips. He watched as the mouth opened slightly and began feeding his insensate partner the mush. He couldn't help but smile as a frown pulled the blond brows downward. "That glare don't work quite so well when your eyes or closed."

~o~

Assistant Director Orrin Travis looked up as five men barged into his private office unannounced. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this invasion?"

"It's Chris and Vin... they've been kidnapped!" Buck Wilmington announced.

"What?!" Travis yelled, leaping to his feet.

"This was waiting for us at the guards' desk when we arrived this morning," Ezra Standish explained as he dropped a large manila envelope onto the desk. Then he added, "We've already pulled the prints from it."

Travis still picked the envelope up by the corners, shaking the contents onto his desk. One by one, he picked up the photographs, studying the faces he saw in each one. He felt the bile rise to the back of his throat as he stared at two of his best agents and friends. The entire left side of Chris' face was a bloody mess.

He looked up, taking in each of the five faces staring back at him. He could see the same anguish that he himself felt. Returning his attention to the items on his blotter, he saw a single sheet of paper. Handling it carefully, he opened it, reading the terse message written there.

"I'll get Jerry Wells on this right away. If anyone-"

"Now, damn it, Orrin. You can't expect us to-"

Holding up his hand to silence the other man, Travis said, "Buck, I understand how you feel, but you know I cannot allow you men to work on this case."

Wilmington stared angrily at the AD but deep down knew the man was right. However, that didn't make it any easier. He stood there; jaw clenched tight, hands fisted at his sides. Expressing his anger with a deep growl, the man turned on his heel as stormed from the room.

J.D. glanced at each man around him, a look of helplessness on his young face. Then, taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and sprinted from the room after his friend.

"Tell Jerry anything we can do, all he's got to do is call," Josiah Sanchez said to the older man. Then he added, "You will keep us informed, right?"

Nodding his head, Travis said, "Of course. I'll do everything in my power to keep you boys in the loop." With that, he watched the remaining three men turn without another word and disappear out the doorway. Only then did he allow himself the luxury of collapsing onto his chair, taking a deep, trembling breath. Scrubbing his hands over his aged features, he looked once more at the pictures of his two agents.

Grabbing the handset of his phone from the cradle, the AD stabbed at the keypad. When his call was answered, he said sharply, "Jerry? I need you in my office... Now." Not waiting for an answer, he disconnected the call, dropping the phone back to the desk. Picking up one particularly graphic close-up of the tall blond, he heaved a shuddering sigh. "We will get you back, Chris. I swear to God, son, we will find you and Vin and bring you home."

~o~

Vin lay on his back on the bed beside his partner. Head on folded arms, he stared upward at the distant ceiling. Hope had been replaced by despair, the young man unable to find any means of escape. He had spent hours going over every inch of their prison, finding no weakness anywhere. Thick concrete walls and heavy iron doors made up the barriers that kept them from freedom. Four small windows were set at the very top of the walls so very high above them. They taunted him with a faint glimpse of the world beyond, nearly hidden behind metal bars and a thick coating of grime.

A faint sound drew his attention. Vin turned to see that Chris seemed to be trying to return to consciousness. Leaning up on an elbow, he reached out and stroked a hand over the handsome face. "It's okay, you're safe. It's all right, I'm here."

Larabee's movements quickened, his head tossing back and forth on the damp pillow. His jaw was clenched tight as pain rushed through him accompanied by nausea. Both hands clutched the bedding beneath him, and he cried out as the pain intensified.

Vin shifted around to get a better hold on the older man. Gently restraining him, he continued to talk to the struggling blond. "Calm down, you're okay. I know your hurtin', but you're all right. Come on, cowboy, calm down."

The hazel eyes slanted open to half mast, then finally opened to blink owlishly. "Where?"

"We're in a bit a' trouble," the sharpshooter admitted softly.

"I don't... don't... un-understand."

"Don't worry about it, just lay still. I've got your back."

"Dark... why... dark?"

Staring in shock at the other man, Vin looked from Larabee to the ceiling and back. It was as bright as daylight. Swallowing the fear that shot through him with the stammered words, he said, "It's okay, don't worry about It. We're gonna be okay. I've got your back, pard."

The injured blond frowned, brows knitting together above blank eyes. He stared in the direction of the voice. "I don't... who... I don't know your voice."

Shoulders slumping as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, Tanner said softly, "it's me, ol' man... It's Vin."

Larabee continued to frown. "Who? I don't... don't know you. Don't know... Who are you?"

Vin stared hard at the other man, certain that he had misheard him. As calmly as he could manage, he said, "Chris, it's me... Vin. Ya know me."

The blond head turned as he searched for the owner of the voice. The world around him was dark, populated by nothing more than vague shapes and shadows. He saw faint movement beside him and tried his best to focus on it, trying to make sense of what his eyes were trying to hide from him. "Don't... know you... don't... Ben? I don't... know..."

"Not Ben, Vin. *Vin Tanner*. Damn it, Larabee, don't do this to me. We've known one another for more than two years, cowboy." Without thinking, he reached out, touching the blond's face and stroking his thumb over a cheek. The reaction was instantaneous.

Despite the weakness, disorientation and nausea, the blond cried out, pulling himself across the bed. "Jesus! What... don't touch... what are you... don't touch me!"

"Ah, hell," Tanner growled, realizing his mistake. "Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle ya, okay? I won't touch ya again unless ya know exactly what I'm doin'."

"You won't... touch me... per... period," Larabee gritted out through clenched teeth. "You st-stay the fu... the fuck away from... me."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, the weary man muttered to himself. "You're a fool, Tanner. Why don't ya try thinkin' before ya do the next stupid thing." Then to the other man he said, "I'm sorry, Chris. I swear I won't do anything to hurt ya. Whether ya remember or not, your m' friend, and I wouldn't do nothin' in the world to hurt ya."

Still pressed against the headboard on the far side of the bed, the older man said, "How can I... trust you? I don't... know..." He slumped against the bars, panting as what little energy he had deserted him. The confused man continued to mumble. "Don't know... don't know..."

Heaving a heavy sigh, the Texan said, "Damn it! Where's Bucklin when ya need him?"

"Buck... Bucklin?" Larabee's head came up slightly, face turned toward the other man. "Buck?"

Grasping at the faintest hope, Vin said, "Yeah, Buck. Buck Wilmington. Do ya remember Buck?"

Frowning, the blond said, "How do you know... know him?" Suspicion filled his voice.

Crossing his arms on the mattress, the younger man leaned forward, making his voice as non-threatening as he did when talking to the children in his old neighborhood. "I've known Bucklin as long as I've known you, Chris. We all work together. Me, you, Buck... then there's Nate, JD, Josiah and Ezra."

It was easy to see from the man's expression that Wilmington's name was the only one that meant anything. He curled up into himself, arms hugging his folded legs, blond head leaning against the headboard of the bed. "Don't know... I don't know them... don't know... just... ju...just Buck. Why are you saying these things? Why? What... what do you want f-from me?"

Dropping his head to the bed, face nestling within the circle of his arms, Vin said softly, "Just wan'cha to remember, Chris. Please, God, I just wan'cha to remember."

~o~

JD sat quietly in the corner of the booth, doing his best to be part of the scenery. In all the time he had known Buck Wilmington, he had seen him drink plenty of times. But never had he seen the man deliberately set out to get blind, stinking drunk on purpose. He wasn't certain what to do, so he settled for simply sitting there, watching the man toss back shot after shot of whiskey, hoping he would be able to get him into the car when his friend finally passed out.

They had received the message about Chris and Vin almost fourteen hours earlier. Buck had tried twice more to get Travis to give him some leeway on being part of the official investigation into their disappearance but only succeeded in the AD threatening him with a week's suspension if he came to him one more time. Dunne knew that the big man would take the suspension without blinking an eye if he thought it would help them discover the whereabouts of Larabee and Tanner. Hell, they all would. But for the time being at least, it would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"JD," Wilmington growled, his words only slightly slurred. "You gonna sit there and fuckin' stare at me all night?"

"I wasn't staring at you," the younger man shot back. After all, he wasn't any happier than Buck about the situation. Maybe he hadn't known Chris for half a life time but he still held the man in high regard and thought of him as a close friend. As for Vin, the two of them had found a common ground in the zest for life that they shared and that drove the others to distraction. While Buck might be like an older brother and Chris a mentor, he looked on Tanner as one of his closest friends.

"You're doing' it again," Buck growled. "Either stop the fuck staring' or get the hell out of my face!"

"Fine!" Dunne's word was delivered in little more than a whisper, but the anger was clear to hear. He pulled himself out of the booth and strode across the room to the bar. Nodding to the pretty young bar owner, he pulled himself up on one of the tall stools and sat down.

"Are you okay, JD?" Inez Recillos asked as she came to stand before him. They had entrusted the young woman with the basic events of the current situation. She had been keeping an eye on the two men since they had arrived several hours before.

"Yeah," Dunne shrugged off her concern. "Can I have a beer, please?"

"Sure." She moved to the big cooler beneath the bar and fished a bottle out of the ice. Wiping it off, she twisted off the cap and sat it on the little paper coaster in front of him. "I take it that Buck is not getting any happier."

With a snort, the young brunet said, "Not likely."

Placing a hand over his, the young Latina said, "You know he's not angry at you, JD. It's the situation. He's frightened that... well, that things will go badly."

With a flash of anger, Dunne said, "He's not the only one! I don't know why the hell I'm supposed to sit here and smile while he bites my head off because he's upset. They're my friends, too!"

Taking his knotted fist between her two, smaller hands, Inez said softly, "Of course they are, JD. No one doubts that in the least. It is just... it is just that he is Buck."

"And what does that make me?" The brunet was still angry.

Softly, the dark-eyed beauty said, "It makes you his friend. That is why you sit there and let him take his anger out on you without walking away. You are his friend."

~o~

Addie Carson stood looking out the window of her studio apartment, watching for signs that she had been found out by the federal agents. She wasn't stupid; she knew that the chances were good that they would figure out she had been the one to kidnap Larabee and Tanner. Hell, she was surprised that they hadn't already found her.

She stepped away from the window, the afternoon sun gilding her nude body as she moved to the full length mirror in the corner. She stood staring at her reflection, a smile playing across her face as she ran her eyes over the figure in the glass. Her hand moved lovingly over her belly, her smile turning into a smug grin.

Five doctors... so called specialists... had told her that she was barren. They told her that there had been far too much damage done to her reproductive organs for her to ever carry a child. But she knew better. She knew that she carried Charlie's baby. They were just too stupid to see that for themselves. They relied on test results and scientific data rather than trusting their own eyes. It was so obvious that she was pregnant.

That was why she had to get her husband free, why it was so important that he be with her when the baby came.

She knew that he was going to be angry. He had told her over and over again that he didn't want children. Six times he had planted his seed in her over the fifteen years they had been together but, no matter how hard she tried to hide her condition from him, he always discovered the truth. Then he would do things to her, things that hurt her terribly and caused her to lose the babies.

But this time she would have the baby. Her baby. Their baby. Charlie would be fine with it; he would learn to accept the child. He would be so happy to be out of prison and back with her where he belonged. She knew that she could make him see what a blessing this child would be. It would be the physical manifestation of their love... a love they hadn't been able to consummate for almost two years.

Addie's hand slid from her stomach, moving downward as her thoughts turned to her husband. He had taught her everything she knew about love and was the only one she had ever been with. He had suspected her many times, accusing her of lying with someone else, but it was never true. There was no one else in her life... no one but Charlie and their baby.

She shifted her stance, opening herself to her own hand. As memories of being with the man who had taken her virginity played themselves on the screen of her mind, her hand played over her wet, warm flesh. As her body responded to that touch, she moaned softly. Faster and faster she rubbed at herself, her eyes opening to focus on the woman in the mirror. The vision excited her and soon, she was moaning as she moved toward climax. As she came, she cried out his name, her voice echoing off the walls of the room.

Staggering on shaking legs, she moved toward the bed, stretching out across the thick comforter on her back. Once more, her hand moved between her legs and she drew her knees up. It would go on for hours; she knew that. It usually did when she allowed herself to think about her time with Charlie.

Her other hand moved up to stroke over her breasts. She stroked over the thick scar where he had sliced off her nipple in a fit of rage. Moving down, she traced the spider web of scars that ran over most of her body. Each one was a reminder of his terrible anger when he grew jealous of her. The lighter ones had been done with a belt, a few heavier where he had hit her with the buckle. Then there were the deeper ones made by knives or broken beer bottles. She could remember why he had given her each one, what had set him off and made it necessary for him to hurt her. And she cherished each one, counting them as a symbol of just how much he loved her.

With a grunt, she came again, feeling the wetness on the comforter beneath her. A contented sigh escaped her as she let her legs drop loosely to the bed, her body sated for the moment. Her hand rubbed over her belly again as she wondered what it would be like to bring their child into the world.

They would have to leave the country... go somewhere that Charlie would be safe. She'd have the baby first though. Then the three of them could disappear; go away to some country that would allow them to live in peace. They had plenty of money tucked away in hidden accounts that the Feds hadn't been able to find. They could live well and raise their child in comfort.

It was going to be a boy; she was certain of it. Charles Merritt Carson, the second... the very sound of it made her smile.

Yes, everything was going to be fine, just as soon as Charlie was back with her. And then they could start their new life together.

Just as soon as they killed the two men she had locked away.

~o~

"Buck's got a scar just above the crack of his ass. He told me it came from this wild woman he bedded down back when y'all were Seals together. Said he had her so crazy with passion she grabbed hold of his ass with these real long nails a hers and clawed him good. But you told me a whole different story. Ya said him and you were sneakin' out this girl's place before her daddy found ya out. Y'all had to climb over this big ol' fence and he slipped."

The blond couldn't help but smile. "I had to damn near... carry him to the car... with my hand over his mouth so... he wouldn't give us away. He screamed bloody murder... soon as we got out... out of there." Larabee was still pressed into the corner of the bed, his back against the concrete wall. The lean body was starting to relax, however, as the Texan slowly convinced him that they did, indeed, know one another.

Smiling as well, Vin continued. "Ya told me that as soon as ya figured it was safe, ya pulled off and made him drop trou'. Ya cleaned up the gash by pourin' half a bottle a whiskey over 'is ass. Said he pissed himself and damn near passed out on ya. He rode the rest of the way layin' on his belly in the back seat, his ass poked up in the air. Y'all were on a pass, so ya got him back to the hotel where y'all were stayin' and into the room ya shared. Ya went to the drug store and got stuff to patch him up, along with a fifth a whiskey. Got him good 'n drunk before ya patched him up."

With a chuckle, Larabee said, "Spent most of the next day holding his head up out of the toilet, then we had to head back for the base. Hell of a pass." Then he grew silent, his glazed eyes staring toward Tanner. Although he could see nothing more than a vague shape, he sensed that this man was being honest. He knew this other man... and knew that this Vin Tanner was important to him.

If only he could remember why.

"Chris?" Vin said softly. "I know ya aren't feeling real good, and I imagine that wall's cold. How 'bout ya let me get ya settled back in over here? I swear, pard, I won't touch ya unless ya need me to help ya. Is that okay?"

He was tired, and Lord knew he hurt. It was taking every ounce of strength for him to keep himself balanced in the corner of the bed and he was exhausted. Letting loose a trembling sigh, he said, "I'm tired."

"Reckon ya are."

"Why... don't understand... what's wrong... with... me?"

"Ya got sick... the flu. Ya been working' way too hard and wore yourself down. You were waitin' for me in your truck while I went to get ya some medicine. We were goin' out to the... to your place. This woman... Addie Carson... she hit ya hard and knocked ya cold. Then she got the drop on me... made me drive here 'n locked us up."

"Why?"

"She's crazy," he replied simply. He was afraid to go farther into the 'why's' of it all until he knew exactly what time the blond thought they were living in. "We can talk more 'bout it later. Can I help ya settle back int' bed?"

Feeling the last of his strength deserting him, the blond could only nod his head. He watched, still wary, as the other man moved toward him. He felt strong hands touching him gently and felt himself moved slowly back across the bed. The injured man did his best to help, but the pain, nausea and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. He moaned as he was lowered onto the bed and covered to the chin.

Taking care, Vin pressed his hand to the man's forehead. "You're still pretty warm. I'm gonna get a cold cloth, okay?" Another nod was his response, so he hurried into the bathroom and wet one of the washcloths. Returning to Larabee's side, he knelt beside the bed and tenderly began to stroke the cool cloth over the ashen features.

Despite the residual feelings of fear, the blond found himself relaxing under the other man's ministrations. He sighed softly as he drifted into a light sleep.

~o~

Senior Agent-in-Charge, Jerry Wells, looked up at the sound of someone knocking on his office door. "Come on in." He nodded as Josiah Sanchez entered. "Sanchez."

"Sir," the older agent said in a respectful tone. "I wanted to see if there was anything you could tell me about the investigation?"

"You mean before Wilmington threatens to come rip us all new ones again?" The words were delivered without malice. Wells knew that if the roles were reversed, he would be sitting in Larabee's office asking for the same information.

"With all due respect, sir, it has been more than forty-eight hours since we received the pictures and the note."

"I know, Josiah. And according to the credit card receipt Tanner signed at the pharmacy, it's been approximately sixty hours since they were last seen."

"Then I trust you can understand why we're rather... impatient... to know what's going on."

"Yes, I do, Josiah. I also understand that if I give you any details as to what we're doing, we're going to be tripping over you and the others... again."

The big profiler dropped his eyes, studying his shoes. He knew they were all going to answer to Travis after 'conveniently' being at the investigation site when the agents of Team Five arrived. Wells had been good enough to share information about the investigation with Ezra Standish and that was how they'd repaid that professional courtesy. Even though the lead sent them down a dead end, the other agents were unhappy to say the least.

"We've narrowed the investigation down to two leads, Agent Sanchez." Leaning forward, Wells said, "I promised you at the beginning that you will know as soon as we find them. But for now, you've got to let us take care of things. Trust us to do our best to bring Larabee and Tanner back safe, all right? We are doing our best."

Josiah nodded. He did know that the other team was doing everything in their power to find the two missing men. Jerry Wells and his team were second only to their own; Travis had chosen them for that very reason. But the other man was right. They had to trust him and his team to do their best in returning their missing friends.

"Can you tell me how close you feel you are?"

"Close. Now, if you'll let me get back to work..."

Taking the hint, the gray-haired agent stood. As he started from the office, he said, Thank you, sir."

Watching the big man leave the room, Wells leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his thinning black hair. He blew out a breath, feeling as if he had been holding it throughout the conversation. He hated lying to the man who had just left, but he had.

They knew who had sent them the pictures and the note. It hadn't been that difficult to discover that it had been Adelaide Carson. That seemed to be their only bit of luck in this case, however.

The woman was listed as the owner of several properties around Denver as well as some holdings in California and New Mexico. Many of them were businesses, and at least half of them had been closed over the course of the last two years. It seemed that without her so-called 'husband' around, Addie Carson didn't have much interest in business.

They had done their best to track her down, but no one seemed to know where she was. A couple of the people they had questioned had seen her as recently as a month ago but could offer them little else of value. They said she had seemed no different than she ever had, had given no indication that she was contemplating anything like kidnapping.

He had ten men and women at his disposal, all of them participating in the search. They had been searching nearly around the clock since being assigned to the case. While there might be a professional rivalry between the ATF Teams, it had been forgotten for now. Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner were well respected agents... well respected men. Everything that could be done would be done to bring them home safe and sound.

Jerry just wished he knew where to look.

~o~

Vin Tanner blinked open heavy lids, scrubbing a hand over his weary face. Looking up, he saw faint daylight peering through the gritty windows. Another day had dawned.

Stretching slowly, he eased himself up and around the other body that lay sprawled out on the mattress. Slipping out of bed, he padded over to the wall, finding the light switch. As the fluorescent illumination chased away the shadows, he moved first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to fix them both something for breakfast. While he heated coffee, he retrieved the wide-mouthed jug he kept in the bathroom and carried it back to the bed.

Chris wasn't able to move off the bed; the few times they had tried to get him up and into the bathroom had been disastrous. The weakness, fever and nausea had combined with the blindness, vertigo and disorientation to make it impossible for him to keep his feet beneath him. That being the case, the jug had been put into service as a makeshift urinal.

Setting the jug aside, Tanner perched on the side of the bed. Gently, he tapped at one slack jaw. His partner moaned softly, slowly coming to what passed for consciousness. Hazel eyes fluttered open halfway as if the lids were too heavy to move any farther. Smiling, Vin said, "Mornin'."

"Morning." The reply was barely even a whisper. Every breath the blond took was a hard won battle against his congested lungs. Vin had him propped up on a stack made up of everything he could use - pillows, extra bedding, towels and clothing - so that he was sitting nearly upright on the bed.

"Thought I'd see if ya need to go before breakfast," Vin asked. The blond shook his head, his eyes drifting shut once more. He heaved a sigh. The times Chris was awake were few and far between. And although it didn't seem to climb any higher, his fever refused to break, sapping what little strength he had. The head injury continued to plague him with violent headaches that left him trembling on the bed.

And through it all, the young Texan had to force himself to keep his distance. Larabee still didn't recognize him, lost somewhere in his past. He called to Sarah and Adam at times. At others, he mourned them. Twenty year old events were spoken of as if they had happened only the day before.

Not once did he remember them though. Chris didn't remember their relationship because he didn't remember him. That fact tore through Vin like a bullet.

What if his lover never remembered him?

Shaking off those thoughts, the sharpshooter went about his business. He got Larabee's medication down him, following it with warmed applesauce and instant tea heated and laced with honey. Chris didn't fight the attention, barely even acknowledging it. He lay limply on the bed, long hours of fighting off illness and pain leaving him limp and lethargic. He ate and drank what was offered, brows furrowing as each swallow caused him pain.

Vin bathed the handsome face, stroking the damp cloth over the long throat. Besides the medications, it was the only thing he could do to fight the fever. When Larabee became restless, he helped him relieve himself in the jug, cleaning him up afterwards. He talked to him the entire time about anything and everything. He spoke more in an hour than he typically did in a day.

When Chris drifted back into a heavier sleep, he left his side, going back to the only other thing that filled his hours.

Finding a way out.

~o~

He chipped and chiseled at anything that remotely looked as if it would offer them a means of escape. Several times, he tried to scale the walls, hoping to make it to the windows above. Each time he fell back, landing on the concrete floor with a painful thud. While he hadn't yet broken anything, he was collecting a variety of bruises on both his ass and his sense of hope.

Even if he did make it to the top of the wall, he would have to find a way through the iron bars and thick glass of the windows. Finally, he gave up on that option and concentrated his efforts elsewhere. With the same determination that sent him up the wall, he concentrated on the only other entrance to the room.

The door and its frame resisted his efforts of forcing them to separate, not even offering the tiniest gap to jam one of the knives in to. Still, he worried and worked at it, trying to find the slightest give.

In the midst of his escape efforts, he heard the slightest noise his lover made. Any time Larabee moaned or moved, he returned to the bedside, doing what little he could to comfort the other man. Kneeling beside the bed, he said softly, "Shh, it's okay, cowboy."

Picking up the rag he had left in the water-filled bowl, he squeezed it out and slowly ran it over the handsome features. Gradually, the blond calmed down, his face turning toward the sound of the Texan's voice. Vin watched the man's eyes slowly flutter then blink lazily open. He smiled as he saw that they actually seemed to focus on him. "Chris?"

~o~

Josiah Sanchez yawned as he padded toward his front door. He had only gone to be an hour ago, and it had been a long day. They were all long days, though, and had been since Chris and Vin had disappeared out of their lives. It had been over a week, but it seemed much longer. Opening the door only far enough to identify his late night caller, he said in a sleepy voice, "what are you doing here?"

"Can I stay here for a few nights?" JD Dunne asked.

Opening the door all the way, Sanchez waved the younger man inside. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want to, JD. I take it Buck's not getting any easier to live with?"

With a derisive snort the smaller man said, "You could say that."

Turning on the light, Josiah got his first good look at the young brunet. His eyes widened at the sight of a deepening bruise around Dunne's left eye. With a low whistle he said, "He do that?"

Nodding shortly Dunne said, "I'm sick of being the one taking his bad mood. Fuck him, let him sit there and stew all alone. The stupid bastard wasn't satisfied with getting a week's suspension I guess."

"Is he at home, or do we need to go get him?"

Shaking his head, JD said, "He's at home. Drunk on his ass...again." Then, belying his anger, he said, "I called Ezra on my way over here and asked him to go check on him."

"Well, let's just hope he's passed out before Ezra gets over there. Come on let's get that taken care of." The gray haired man led the way toward the kitchen. Wilmington had gotten harder and harder to deal with every day since the disappearance. Despite repeated warnings he had continued to harass the team assigned to the case until he had given AD Travis no choice but to level sanctions against him.

They were all angry and frustrated at the lack of success that Team Five had had on the case. They had searched every holding and questioned everyone who could tell them about Adelaide Carson. They had questioned Charles Carson several times, but the man he had no idea as to what the woman was doing. They had even attempted to get the Carson released long enough to coax his alleged wife out into the open. That plan had quickly been dismissed as too dangerous and unrealistic. Charlie Carson was too violent a criminal to risk his escape even under the watchful eye of the ATF agents.

At every turn ATF Team Five was thwarted. And each time they failed, the members of Team Seven lost a little more hope. Each man feared not only the loss of their friends, but the loss of their team. They were quickly falling apart, the five men faltering under the strain as they struggled to deal with the uncertain future they found themselves facing.

Sanchez shook himself from his thoughts, motioning his visitor to one of the kitchen chairs. He quickly filled a plastic bag with ice, wrapped it in a towel, and handing it over. Next he retrieved a bottle of bourbon from a cabinet and poured them each a drink. Carrying the bottle and glasses to the table, he sat one glass in front of this friend before he settled into a chair. Saluting the younger man with his glass, he downed the contents, filling it a second time.

Drinking slowly, the ATF profiler studied his guest. He saw he tired slump of the young man's shoulders, the pinched and weary set of the pale face, and the bleary glaze that had settled over the hazel eyes. Josiah had seen that look on every face in their office as well. He had also seen it every time he looked in the mirror. He doubted if any of them had slept more than three hours at a time since Chris and Vin had left the office for the doctor's office.

As the agent left in charge he knew he needed to do something to give his men hope. The fact of the matter was, however, that he hadn't a clue as to what that might be.

"I'm sorry JD," the gray haired agent sighed, barely aware that he had spoken the words aloud.

It's not your fault, Josiah," Dunne replied. "You've been doing the best you can to keep this team going until... well, until we find Chris and Vin."

"If I was doing my best, you wouldn't be sitting here holding an ice pack to your face."

Grinning ruefully, the smaller brunet said, "You really think you could have kept Buck from popping me?"

Managing a faint smile the bigger man said, "Maybe not. But if I had a better handle on things he might hot have gotten so angry."

"Doubt it. He's been majorly pissed since the minute we saw those pictures and read that note. 'Release Charlie Carson if you want to see Tanner and Larabee alive'. Not much of a note if you think about it. Nothing to tell us where Carson needs to be, no deadline, nothing. It's insane."

"She's insane," Sanchez replied. As the team profiler he had studied not only Charlie, but Adelaide Carson. To say that both were sociopaths was like saying Saddam Hussein had caused a couple of problems during the past few years."

"But what does that mean, she's insane?"

Heaving a deep sigh the bigger man said, "It means that if Jerry and his team aren't able to discover where she's holding Chris and Vin... they're as good as dead."

JD's eyes filled with tears that he refused to release. "No, I won't accept that, Josiah! No crazy bitch is going to take them away from us. There's got to be a way that we can find them... there has to be."

Running a big hand over his blunt features, the big agent said, "I hope you're right, son."

His anger flaring, the smaller man leapt to his feet, tossing the ice pack aside and sending the untouched glass of liquor tumbling. "God damn it Josiah! How can you just sit there acting so calm?"

Heavy brows furrowing, the older man said, "what do you want me to do, John Dunne, black your other eye?"

Like a deflated balloon, JD dropped back to his chair. His eyes burned and he tasted bile as his anger continued to boil. Suddenly looking much younger than even his youth allowed, he looked across the table. In a pain-filled voice he said, "I want you to figure this out, Josiah. I want you to make it right."

With a sound that was half groan and half growl, Sanchez said, "I'd like nothing more. Unfortunately none of the higher powers I've studied has sent me a sign, and my crystal ball isn't working. If you want, I'll go talk to Santa Claus... maybe he'll put them in our stockings if I ask real nice."

Taken aback at the sarcastic tone, it took a few seconds for JD to recover. In a tone of defeat he said, "You wanna hit me now?"

Realizing what he had said, and how he had said it, Sanchez said, "no, but you're welcome to slug me if you want. Sorry, JD."

Shrugging, Dunne said, "looks like the best way I can help lately is by giving everyone to yell at. Hell, even Nathan snapped at me earlier."

With a smirk, Sanchez said, "don't flatter yourself John Dunne, that's the only reason we keep you around anyway."

Chuckling now, JD said, "thanks... good to know I've got a purpose in life."

Pushing himself out of his chair, the bigger man said, "Yeah, well how about we call it a night on that one? Come on, I'll make sure you've got what you need before I go back to bed."

Following the other man to his guest room, Dunne said, "hell, all I need right now is a place to lay my head."

"I think I can arrange that," Josiah replied.

A few minutes later, the gray haired man closed the door to the little guest bedroom after wishing his young friend good night. Padding back toward his own room, Josiah started toward the bed. Then he found himself moving instead toward the window. Pulling back the curtains, he stared out into the dark, wintry night. With a sigh he whispered, "Where are you, guys?"

~o~

Ezra Standish stared up at the windows of the apartment Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne shared. Dunne had called him, obviously upset, asking him to go make certain that Wilmington was alright. Saying only that he couldn't deal with the man's drunken rages any longer he nonetheless wanted to make certain that his friend was all right.

It hadn't taken much to convince him to go check on the man. While they did not share a relationship as deeply committed as Larabee and Tanner did, Standish had developed something with the big brunet that went beyond friendship. Most of the time they simply shared a night of sex and companionship but at others they came together when one of them needed a friend or a shoulder to lean on. This, he knew, was one of those times.

Taking a deep breath, Ezra pulled himself out of his Jag and moved toward the front door of the apartment. He noted that every light in the place appeared to be on and wondered if that was a good sign or not. Deciding that he would only discover the disposition of the other man one way, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

After the third repetition, he slipped his keys from his coat pocket at selected the one coded for the apartment. Buck had gifted him with it a few months ago, just as he had given the man one to his townhouse. Unlocking the door, Standish entered what they lovingly called the CDC. His nose wrinkled as the odor of liquor, tobacco and vomit assailed him. Moving farther into the apartment he saw that the living room had been all but destroyed. Furniture was overturned, magazines and potted plants scattered across the floor and empty bottles seemed to be everywhere.

"Good lord," he muttered as he continued to survey the apartment for signs of the big man. "Buck? Where are you? Buck?"

"Get the fuck outta m' house," came the slurred response.

Locating the other man by the rambling monologue of threats, the Southerner found him sprawled out behind the couch. While that piece of furniture was still upright, the cushions were scattered around the room. Buck lay on the floor, head propped up against the wall. He was unshaven, still wearing the clothes he had worn to work two days ago. Red rimmed eyes stared upward, sliding in and out of focus in the smaller man's direction.

"I must say I've seen you in better shape."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an offer? If so, I doubt that you could follow through in your condition."

"Fuck... you," Buck slurred with greater emphasis.



"That's what I've always loved about you, Buck, your quick wit and ability to turn a phrase."

"Fuck... you... twice."

Heaving a sigh, the undercover agent squatted down beside the prone form. "Shall we see if we can't get you off the floor and into bed, or are you content to stay here?"

The mustached man leaned up, moving closer to Standish. Getting within a few inches, he opened his mouth and belched. Watching the other man blinking and wrinkling his nose at the wave of fetid breath that assailed him, he flopped back on the floor, laughing.

"Ah yes, that was quite entertaining," Ezra said in an irritated tone. "Come on let's get you into bed, all right?"

Without warning, Buck lurched forward, smashing a fist into the smaller man's jaw. Standish fell back, sitting hard on the wood floor with a stunned grunt. Green eyes flashing, he pushed himself back farther still.

Reaching up to gingerly touch his aching face, he said quietly, "does that make you feel better? Did it make you feel better when you hit JD earlier?"

Dark blue eyes widening, flashing and then fading with remorse, Buck said, "Why don't you listen, Ace? Go away. I don't wan'cha here... didn't want him here. wan'cha all to leave me alone. Need ya to... Jesus, Ace... go away."

"I can't Buck. I won't. You're doing no one any good sitting here wallowing - "

"I ain't wallowin'!"

Staring pointedly around him, the Southerner said, "Exactly what do you call this? Buck, this solves nothing... it does nothing to help us find Chris and Vin. It does nothing but make you miserable and it makes the rest of us miserable."

"Then y'all just stay th' fuck away from me," Wilmington whispered in a pain filled voice. "God damn it, Ezra... stay the fuck away from me."

"We can't, my friend," Standish said softly, sliding over to sit next to the other man. Reaching out, he finished, "we care about you... stud."

One side of his mouth turning up at the use of Larabee's nickname for him, the bigger man shook his head. Tears spilled down his face as he said, "I'm so scared, Ace. I'm so scared we ain't never gonna see either of 'em again."

Ezra settled beside the other man, wrapping his arm around the broad shoulders. As Wilmington's head dropped to his shoulder he said softly, "we don't know that, Buck. We don't know that." As he felt hot tears soaking into his shirt, he rubbed his hand up and down the well muscled arm. Gently he began to rock, softly murmuring against the dark head.

They sat like that for nearly an hour, Buck sobbing as all the hours and days of worry and fear pouring from the very center of his being. Finally, exhausted, he slumped against his friend. Ezra held him close, letting him rest for several minutes. When he felt the bigger man shift slightly, he gave him a final squeeze before releasing him.

As Buck pushed himself up and against the wall, Standish said, "I feel compelled to say something to you my friend."

Frowning as he stared at the other man through swollen and red rimmed eyes, Wilmington said, "What's that?"

"You, my dear Wilmington, stink."

With a derisive snort, the big man said, "Gee, thanks. You're all heart."

"I certainly am. Now, shall we get you cleaned up, sobered up, and put to bed? You could use all three, I assure you."

Wrinkling his nose as he caught the thick odor that permeated his clothes, the brunet said, "Reckon I could use a shower and some fresh duds."

Standing and offering the big man his hand, the undercover agent said, "that, my friend is an understatement."

Taking the proffered hand and allowing the other man to help him to his feet, Buck swayed as gravity threatened to topple him again. Ezra slipped beneath the taller man's shoulder, steadying him as they made their way through the disheveled home toward the bathroom.

Once there Standish turned on the shower, watching to make certain that Wilmington was cognizant enough to undress and get into the stall. Only when he was satisfied that Buck could cope did he leave the room.

Going first to the kitchen, he found a can of soup and emptied it into a pan. Setting it on the stove, he left it to heat while he went into the living room. There he did his best to return the room to order. He was just sweeping up the dirt spilled from the potted plants when he heard soft footfalls coming his way. Looking up he saw the mustached agent entering the room. Buck was wearing a pair of baggy sweats, toweling his thick hair and he navigated through the house.

Wilmington stopped just inside the room, looking around him with an expression of embarrassment on his face. Locking eyes with the other man he could only say, "Thanks, Ace."

Nodding, Standish moved back to the kitchen. He poured the soup into a mug, setting it on a tray. Adding a glass of ice water and a package of crackers along with a napkin and spoon, he carried the tray into the living room. Finding Buck stretched out on the couch, an arm over his eyes, he said, "wake up and sit up, Mr. Wilmington, I have a light repast for you."

"Don't think my stomach can handle it right now, Ace," the big man said softly.

"I would wager that the only thing your stomach has received for the past couple of days has been the foul contents of the bottles I disposed of while you bathed."

"Jesus, Ezra, I ain't up to all those words."

"You'll feel better if you eat," Standish said simply.

"If I give it a try will you not talk?"

With a soft chuckle, the Southerner said, "yes, I promise."

Wilmington pushed himself up, settling against the arm of the couch. Taking the tray, he looked it over, smiling as he said, "Just like mama used to make."

"Yes, well at least your mother knew how to operate a can opener." Standish quipped, settling back at the opposite end of the couch. True to his word he remained quiet while Buck ate.

To his surprise Wilmington ate everything on the tray. He even downed a second glass of water, which Ezra brought him with two aspirin. Chasing those with several antacids, he settled back once more. Looking at his friend with emotion filled eyes he said softly, "I've really fucked things up, haven't I?"

"You have some fences to mend, as Josiah would say, but I don't believe that there's any permanent damage done."

"Ah, shit, JD!" He sat straight up, paling as the motion caused a wave of nausea to roll through him.

"He's at Josiah's."

Slumping back with a moan, Buck said, "Shit. He's bound to be pissed off."

"Perhaps. However if it were a permanent condition I doubt that he would have called me to come check on you."

Dropping his gaze, the brunet said once more, "shit."

Rubbing a hand gently over a jersey clad leg, Standish said, "Beating yourself up over all this won't help anything. Come on, let's get you to bed. Once you've gotten some sleep you can work on making peace with JD."

"He's okay?"

"Yes. I received a call from Josiah while you were in the shower. Our young Mr. Dunne was sound asleep in the guest room at Casa de Sanchez. Now, come along, Mr. Wilmington, to bed with you."

Just a few minutes later Buck was climbing into bed. It was one of the few places that he had failed to destroy during his rampage, the comforter and sheets still fresh. As the smaller man drew the comforter up over him, he looked up at him. Reaching out he caught one of Ezra's hands. When the emerald hued eyes looked up, he whispered, "stay."

Seeing the torment that still lingered in the dark blue depths, he nodded. Standish toed off his loafers and slipped out of his shirt and slacks. Laying them over a chair he climbed beneath the covers beside the other man. As Buck curled up on his side, he spooned against the bigger man's back. Wrapping an arm around the broad chest, he held Wilmington in a loose embrace.

Wilmington sighed as his friend curled around him. He closed his hand around the one draped over him, twining his fingers around the well manicured ones of the other man. Slowly he let go of the pain and anguish that had sent him into self destruct, replacing it with the feeling of security that flowed over him. Safe in Ezra's arms he drifted off to sleep.

~o~

Raine Jackson padded into the living room, searching for her husband. She found him sitting in the big rocking chair, their baby son in his arms. Nathanial was curled up in his father's arms, asleep. Nathan sat with the baby in one arm and a bottle in the other, his head leaning back against the headrest. His dark eyes were staring into the darkness beyond the big picture window, not even responding when his wife called his name.

Leaning down, she kissed him gently on the forehead. Finally he noticed she was there, managing a smile. "'Thanial woke up. I thought I'd let you sleep."

"You did, I just missed having you up against me. Want me to take him back to bed?"

"Not yet."

She saw it once more, the lost look she had seen so often during the past several days. She had seen it on the faces of each of the other four men who worked with him as well. And Raine knew that, unless they found the missing men, she would see those looks for a long time to come. The beautiful Mrs. Jackson dropped to the floor beside her husband, resting her head against his leg.

Nathan tucked the baby's bottle inside his robe, reaching down to stroke his hand through his wife's thick hair. He felt his son shift slightly, a soft sigh escaping the tiny, slack lips. He closed his eyes, feeling a tear escape from beneath each lid. His heart ached as he played and replayed the last time he had seen his friends. If only he had insisted on going with them. If only he had been there when whatever happened, happened. He could have... what? That was the question he couldn't answer. What could he have done? Could his presence have meant the difference between Chris and Vin being abducted and their being safe? Or would he have just been the third victim? Could he have saved them, or would Raine be sitting in the rocking chair alone, rocking their baby and worrying about him?

He hadn't shared his thoughts with anyone, not even his wife, although he suspected she knew what they were. The woman he had married was very wise and very insightful. But he still couldn't talk to her about what was preying on his mind. Not yet.

The Jackson family sat together in silence, watching as the sun made its appearance on the Eastern horizon.

~o~

Camilla Baines knocked on the door to Jerry Wells' office, opening it as soon as she heard his muffled response. Striding across the small room, she said, "sir I think I've got good news."

Looking up at the young redheaded agent, Wells saw that the weariness that seemed to have overwhelmed all of his agents seemed to have lifted from the youngest member of his team. Her green eyes glittered with barely repressed glee. "Well, don't keep it to yourself Cam, what is it?"

"I think I've found her, Jerry. I think I've found Addie Carson."

~o~

Ezra balanced himself on elbows and knees on the bed as he was forcefully rocked forward again and again. His fingers were clenched hard around the pillow that his head was buried in. He heard the low growls and harsh grunts of the man who knelt behind him.

Never before had he viewed sex with Buck Wilmington as something to be endured. While he himself at times forgot to consider the other man, Buck never did. He was nothing if not an attentive sex partner. Until now.

Standish had been awakened just as the sun lightened the windows. Wilmington's hands had been moving over his ass, sliding beneath his boxers to rub along his crack. Before he was completely coherent he was kneeling in the middle of the bed, being taken by someone he had long considered a friend.

With a final growl Buck came, pulling out of the other man as soon as he was satisfied. The badly hung-over man stumbled toward the bathroom without a word or backward glance.

Moaning softly Ezra dropped to the bed and rolled to his back, draping one arm across his eyes. He quickly finished himself off with an unsatisfied grunt. The Southerner received momentary satisfaction when he used the bed sheet to clean himself up before he pulled himself off the bed. Anger at being used had been smoldering since he had been so roughly awakened and now it coursed through him in volcanic waves. Grabbing up his clothes, Ezra began pulling them on, without a thought of his usual meticulous care for his appearance.

All but forcing himself to sit back on the bed, he yanked his socks on and grabbed up his expensive Italian loafers. He had heard the shower running, registered when it ceased, and now noted that the bathroom door opened. He felt the mattress shift as Buck sat on the edge of the bed.

"Ezra..." Wilmington turned, seeking the other man. Standish sat there, his body rigid. Every muscle of the compact, well muscled body was tense, tight with unspent rage. "Ezra, I - "

"Shut up," the Southerner spit out in an angry whisper. "Just shut up."

Wilmington watched as his friend finished pulling on his shoes and pushed himself up off the bed. Trying again, he said, "I want to - "

"I said shut up." The words were tight, measured sounds delivered through clenched jaws. Standish moved across the room without a word. Then as he reached out to open the door, he paused. Squaring his shoulders he turned, leveling an icy stare at the other man. His voice just as cold he said, "You know that I have never required anything from you, Buck, nor have I felt that you expected anything of me. No romance or statements of love, no promises or even plans that extended past breakfast.

"The only thing I have ever expected from you is respect. What you have shown me since last night is the antithesis of respect.

"I came here to comfort a friend and I stayed because I thought that friend needed me. I did not come here to be your tool." He grated out the last word, his face burning hotter as he spoke aloud what he had been feeling.

Buck's eyes widened as that word registered in his alcohol fogged mind. He tasted bile as what he had done came back to him. He opened his mouth but closed it without speaking.

"You act as if you're the only one touched by these current events. Let me assure you, you aren't. I can only hope that you get your head out of your ass at some point so you can see that. "His final words were delivered in a virulent hiss the undercover agent threw the door open and stormed from the room.

Buck dropped his head into his hands with a groan, wondering when he was going to stop fucking up so badly.

~o~

Vin paced the floor, trying not to count off his steps. There were too few of them, the number seeming smaller every time, although it never changed. The walls were closing in around him and the only thing holding them back was his own weakening willpower. He had learned to rely on Chris to talk him back when his claustrophobia kicked in, helping him to calm down and regain his bearings. He had been able to force it aside as he focused his attention on caring for his partner, but it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the growing anxiety as the hours and days passed.

He stopped as a sound managed to force its way through the growing sense of panic. Turning he saw Chris moving weakly on the bed. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to calm down he strode across the room. Dropping to the edge of the mattress he reached out to the agitated man. As dim, matted eyes struggled to open, he wondered which Larabee would wake this time. At times he seemed to almost remember, but at others he would be lost at some point in the past.

His vision was clearing a little, which was something, although he still saw little but light and dark, shape and shadow. At the same time the unrelenting fever continued to sap his strength. The medication was gone, the time for a second trip to the doctor long past. The congestion was heavy in his lungs, making every breath a hard won battle.

Twice Vin had managed to carry Chris to the little bathroom. There he cradled the pain-wracked blond while the shower poured out wet steam until the hot water cooled. They sat there until the steam dissipated before Tanner changed Larabee into dry clothes and returned him to the bed. The steam baths gave Chris relief for a while, but the effects were short-term. Soon he was once again wheezing with every breath.

At least the blond had come to accept his touch, as long as he didn't allow it to move past one of comfort. Gently stroking a hand over the dry, ashen face, Tanner watched the unfocused eyes flitting back and forth, searching. "It's okay, Chris, calm down."

"Can't... br... breathe," the blond gasped in near panic.

His own panic forced to the background by the other man's fear, Vin took control of the situation. "Yeah you can, cowboy, just calm down for me now."

"Can't... can't... oh God!"

"Chris!" Tanner said firmly, his voice loud enough to get the man's attention. "You listen to me now, your okay. Listen to me an' settle down. You can do this, just calm down. Take a deep breath, nice 'n slow. C'mon, you can do this."

"No... I -" then he felt the other man's fingers stroke lightly down his face. They traced warm and comforting trails along his throat and rubbed over his shoulder. He struggled to draw air into aching and unyielding lungs. Unthinking, he reached out, grasping the arm that sought to comfort him. "Help... help me."

"I am cowboy, now calm down for me. Listen to me Chris, listen to my voice. I know you're scared, but I need ya to listen to me and try to relax. C'mon now, I know ya can do it. C'mon now... that's it... that's good." He continued talking, his voice pitched soft and low. He watched with a smile as the blond slowly began to relax. Although Larabee's breathing continued to be labored, the declining panic brought him some ease. For several more minutes he continued coaxing the blond past the panic. Finally the older man lay calmly on the bed, shallow breaths slow and steady. The pulse visible at the base of the long throat slowed as well.

"Thanks," Chris said with a trembling voice. He looked toward the other man, managing a faint smile.

"You're welcome," Tanner replied with a grin. "How're ya feelin' now?"

"Tired... sick of be... being tired."

"I know ya are, Pard." He stopped then, uncertain of what to say or do next.

"It's okay... you know," Larabee said softly.

"What?"

"I know that... we're not going to... to make it... out of this... alive."

"Ah hell, what are ya talkin' about? Buck and the boys will be stormin' in here any minute."

Managing a smile, Chris said, "I may not remember a lot, but I remember enough to know that they won't be allowed on the case."

"Maybe so, but Bucklin will be doggin' whoever Travis assigns it to. Ya know how he can be. Hell, the man's middle name ought to be 'Persistence'."

"Even so, it's been so long... "

Vin's heart ached at the defeated look on the older man's face. Forcing lightness to his tone, he said, "Ya know it ain't gonna matter how long it takes. Bucklin ain't gonna give up, and neither will the others. So you'd better stop givin' up on them."

"I'm just being realistic."

"Yeah, well that's always been one of your shortcomin's," Vin teased. "Ya just can't think outside the box."

His words got the desired effect as Chris chuckled. Then sobering the blond said, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry that I don't... remember you. Sorry I... I wish I could... wish I could... remember..." he drifted off, his eyes slowly closing.

Gently rubbing the dozing man's shoulder, Vin said softly, "I wish ya could too, pard." He watched the blond for a few minutes more until he was satisfied that Larabee was resting. Easing from the mattress, he settled on the floor and leaned back against the bed with an exhausted sigh. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to will away the feelings of despair that tried to overwhelm him.

He wanted to give in, to accept that they were, indeed, living in their own tomb. He wanted to let those fears be known, to lay them open before the other man. He wanted Chris to be able tell him that it was going to be all right; that Buck and the others would indeed come to the rescue. He wanted to not only give, but to receive the reassurance that they would survive this nightmare.

Frowning, Tanner tried to decide when it was that he had come to rely on Chris Larabee for those reassurances. When had he come to need the blond's support so badly? He had relied on no one but himself since he was a child, but suddenly he needed someone else.

But not just someone.

Chris.

In the blond he had found something he hadn't even realized he needed. Security. Theirs was a relationship unique to his life, offering support. The man beside him had shown him what it was like to have someone else in his life, the give and take that he came to understand as caring. And more than anything Chris Larabee had given him that thing that he craved above everything else. Love.

He looked around their prison. Cold, gray walls taunted him, once more threatening to collapse in on him. With a soft growl he pushed himself to his feet, counting on activity to keep him focused away from his thoughts and fears. Tanner forced himself through the routine he had developed during the course of their captivity. He checked on the drying sheets he had washed out after Chris had gotten sick the night before. One was hung over the shower rod, the other suspended between the two chairs. Still damp. He hoped they dried before he needed them again.

Going to the little kitchen, he counted the dwindling cans and boxes of food. Even though he restricted himself - eating only when he could feel his strength failing - there was only enough for two or three more days. Larabee couldn't regain his health on a starvation diet. Looking at the pictures on the labels he felt his stomach cramp in protest. His mind wandered, his memory dredging up the taste of even the foods he didn't like. Shoving the last can aside as the cravings began again he turned away from the cabinet.

Checking the dishware he found them dry and put them away. He had wiped out the sink earlier, but wiped it again just to pass another three seconds. Moving from the kitchen he went next to the main room and the cabinet standing there. Opening it, he pulled out each of the few pieces of clothing and bedding there. Unfolding each one, he refolded it and replaced it in the cabinet. He still wore the clothes he had put on the morning they had been abducted, despite the fact they felt like sandpaper against his skin. The blond had to be kept clean and dry and, incapacitated as he was, meant that his clothes needed changed at least once a day. He himself striped off his own clothes, showered, and put them back on when he could afford the time away from tending his partner.

Closing the cabinet he moved to his final task in his routine. He would force himself to concentrate on this one until Chris needed him again. Retrieving the butter knife from where he had laid it aside earlier, he began chipping and picking at the concrete door facing. He had found a single, tiny flaw in the block and focused all of his escape attempts on it. Over the lengthening string of days he had managed to wear away enough that he could feel the slightest hint of breeze when he leaned against the wall.

It was little enough. But it was something.

~o~

It was a non-descript building in a part of town abandoned by prosperity. Its walls were the colors of poverty, covered in the grime of lost dreams. Its only occupants scurried into the shadows on four feet, protesting in agitated squeals. At least the occupants that made themselves known to the invaders.

Pascal Flores furrowed dark brows as he turned toward his partner. "Cam, you sure about this?"

Camilla Baines heaved a frustrated sigh, following it with, "You got any better ideas?" When the man shook his head she continued. "Like I told the boss, I found that this building and two others are owned by Carson. We missed them before because the deeds are in the name Merritt Charles, Carson's middle and first names. All the properties appeared to be abandoned, until I happened upon an anomaly."

"That being the utilities."

"Right. Utilities at these locations have never been disconnected and there was a noticeable increase in usage at this address during the past two months."

"So maybe they've got squatters," Flores shrugged.

Nodding her head the young woman said, "Possible. That's why I camped out over there the last couple of nights." She canted her head toward the shadowy doorway across the empty street.

Pascal chuckled. He knew the agent he was often paired with could be a bit gung-ho. She had only come onto the team three months ago and always seemed to be trying to prove her worth. "You ever hear of having a social life?"

"Time enough for that when I get old," she quipped, staring pointedly at the scattering of gray hairs in the man's otherwise thick black hair. Then, sobering, she continued. "I got lucky early this morning, just after dawn - "

"So you spent the entire night?"

Flashing an irritated look at her partner, she went on. "I saw a woman who looked suspiciously like dear Addie come to the side door. She was looking out across the way. It was like she was watching for something... or someone."

"So you think she's living here?"

Shrugging, Baines said, "Yeah, I do."

"Any sign of them?" He didn't have to say who he meant. The missing agents were never far from anyone's thoughts.

"No, but that doesn't mean they're not here. Ready to go take a look?"

"Yeah, let's go," the dark-eyed man replied. He popped open the passenger door as the woman exited the driver's side. They moved across the street, heading toward the side door of the building. They knew that at two other properties, two other teams were investigating as well. And while the indicator of the utility increase wasn't there for the other two, they were being thorough and covering their bases.

Reaching the door, the two agents weren't surprised to find it locked. With a grin, the older agent retrieved a slender tool from his pocket. A moment later they were inside the big open room that made up most of the ground floor.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Cam noted something large hidden beneath a dirty tarp. Turning to her partner she said softly, "watch my six."

Nodding, Pascal kept his sidearm at the ready as he watched for signs of trouble. He watched as the woman moved to the covered object and pulled back the canvas.

Fanning away a cloud of dust, Baines registered the importance of what she had found. Pulling the tarp free, her eyes scanned the black, quad cab Dodge Ram. She looked up as the man joined her. "This look familiar 'Cal?"

The man nodded. Even without the description they'd been given, they would have known the vehicle. Not only was it a staple in the Federal building parking garage, they had both seen it at any number of ATF functions.

Donning gloves, Camilla quickly checked the truck over. She found the doors unlocked and long-dried blood stains on the passenger side of the front seat as well as a bullet hole in the windshield. Most ominous of all was the fact that there was a stack of weapons, cell phones and other items on the back seat.

"Looks like we found the right place," Pascal noted softly.

"Yeah... just hope it's not the wrong time," Baines replied.

"I'll call it in," Flores said. He retrieved his cell then frowned when he couldn't get a signal inside the warehouse. With a growl he said, "I love technology... when it works. I'll be right back."

Nodding absently, the woman continued investigating the truck. Then her keen eyes noted faint signs of a trail on the dusty floor. Scuff marks and random splatters of dried blood were evident on the relatively undisturbed concrete. The sound of quickly approaching footsteps caught her attention. Looking up, she saw her partner arrive back at the truck. She motioned to her discovery. "I think we've got them."

"Maybe," Pascal hedged as he handed the woman a flashlight and kept a second one for himself. Squatting down he studied the floor. Then his eyes followed along, tracing the most likely path. "Back up will be here in fifteen."

The two agents moved slowly along the path, losing it from time to time as other marks obscured it. They surmised that these other marks must have been made by Adelaide Carson. Tracing the faint signs with their flashlights, they followed them to where a second tarp hung upon the wall. Reaching up, Flores took a corner, Baines standing nearby at the ready. As he pulled it down they found themselves facing an old wire and wood freight elevator.

Stepping up to the conveyance, Cam said, "Up or down?"

"Neither. We stay here and wait for the others."

Staring up at the man, the young woman said, "If she saw us, she could hurt Larabee and Tanner."

"If she saw us, she's had ample time to kill them both," Flores countered, adding, "If they're even still alive."

"Granted, but do we run on that scenario or do we try to keep two fellow agents from dying?" Camilla returned, adding in a sarcastic tone, "If they're still alive."

"Cam."

"I'm going to the basement first. When back up comes, let 'em know." With that she stepped into the big car.

Flores reached out, grabbing the woman's arm. "Not alone, Baines."

Shrugging off his arm she said, "Goin' caveman on me, 'Cal? I'm a trained agent... just like you or any other man on the team."

"It has nothing to do with that," he growled. "It has to do with an agent walking into a potentially dangerous situation without back up. Acting like a cowboy isn't going to do anything that waiting a few more minutes can't."

Growling under her breath, the woman nonetheless moved back out of the car. Leaning against the gray brick, she glared at him. "I'll stand guard here, in case someone calls the 'vator then... is that okay?"

The corners of his mouth quivered as he tried not to smile. "Yeah, that's okay."

"And, 'Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"It's cowgirl."

Flores snorted and shook his head. The young woman was only slightly over five feet tall and slender as a reed, but she acted like she was ten feet tall and bullet proof.

~o~

She had expected them before now, and wondered when the efficiency of the ATF had declined. Addie Carson had seen the car parked on the quiet street. She had seen the two people leave it and come toward the building she had called home for the past nine weeks. She had chosen this location specifically because of the quietness of the area. She could better keep an eye on things since there were so few people around.

Stepping back from the big window of the top floor office suite she had renovated into an apartment, she moved across to the locker at the foot of her bed. Lifting the lid, she retrieved a handgun, checking to make certain it was loaded. Next she moved to the wardrobe, looking through her clothes. With a smile she chose a pale green dress. It was Charlie's favorite.

Dressing quickly, the woman donned several pieces of jewelry and applied her make-up. Finally, brushing her hair and pulling it back in a loose bun, she was ready. Crossing to her bed once again, she settled there, staring at the door.

Waiting.

She had expected them before now and wondered when the efficiency of the ATF had declined. Addie Carson had seen the car parked on the quiet street. She had seen the two people leave it and come toward the building she had called home for the past nine weeks. She had chosen this location specifically because of the quietness of the area. She could better keep an eye on things since there were so few people around.

Stepping back from the big window of the top floor office suite she had renovated into an apartment, she moved across to the locker at the foot of her bed. Lifting the lid, she retrieved a handgun, checking to make certain it was loaded. Next, she moved to the wardrobe, looking through her clothes. With a smile, she chose a pale green dress. It was Charlie's favorite.

Dressing quickly, the woman donned several pieces of jewelry and applied her make-up. Finally, brushing her hair and pulling it back in a loose bun, she was ready. Crossing to her bed once again, she settled there, staring at the door.

Waiting.

~o~

Chips. Particles. Dust. Minute bits of concrete silently hit the floor beneath his feet. He forced his mind away from how little his efforts were producing. He forced himself to continue believing that those efforts were worthwhile. It didn't matter how long it took, how much more there was to do. All that mattered was that he could feel the faintest hint of air coming through the hole he had made.

Hole. Could what he had chipped out of the stone be considered a hole? It was still so small that not even his finger could fit inside.

No. It was something. It had to count. He wouldn't entertain thoughts that it didn't.

"Vin?"

The sound was so soft that his conscious mind didn't register it at first. It was only the third repetition that caught his attention. Turning, he saw Chris moving restlessly on the bed, shakily trying to push himself upright against the pillows. Dropping the knife, he hurried across the room toward the blond. "Where do ya think your goin', pard?"

"Called you... wasn't sure where... what's going on?"

"Sorry." The wide blue eyes took in the pinched and haggard features. "I didn't hear ya."

"S'okay," Larabee slurred wearily.

"Ya need somethin'?"

"Drink?"

"'Kay." Vin left the blond's side long enough to retrieve a glass of water. Placing it in the man's hands, he kept his own near to keep it steady.

Chris drank the cool liquid greedily, stopping every few swallows to take a breath. When he finished, he handed the glass back to the other man, leaning back against the stack of pillows that supported him. He moved restlessly, a grimace on his face.

"What's wrong?" Tanner asked.

"Back hurts," Larabee grumbled.

"Hurts 'cause it's hard to breathe?"

Shaking his head, the blond said, "Aches... from laying on it."

"Think ya can sit up for a while? I can rub it." Getting a nod in the affirmative, Vin pulled back the blankets and helped the older man shift on the bed. Together, they got Chris up into a relatively upright position. Tanner moved the pillows and blankets he had been using to prop the man up in front of him, giving Larabee something to lean forward against. Lifting up the man's sweatshirt, he began rubbing the knotted muscles of the well-honed back. "Sorry we ain't got lotion or somethin'."

"Mm," Chris moaned softly. "Feels fine."

The sharpshooter felt his heart skip a beat as the other man responded to his touch... and his own body responded as well. Closing his eyes, he fought to banish the memories the massage brought to mind. Then he had to smile at the irony. He needed to forget the very things he kept praying the blond would remember.

For several moments, there were no words spoken as Vin continued the massage. It wasn't the easy, comfortable silence they had once known, but the tension wasn't there either. While they might not be lovers, at least they were once more becoming friends.

~o~

They entered the shadowy corridor of the warehouse basement, flashlights playing over the pipes and machinery of the building's physical plant. The rest of the agents assigned to the case had arrived and teams of two and three had begun to canvas the big building. Baines and Flores were doing a sweep of the lowest floor. Staring around her at the shadows, Cam sighed as they found no sign of the missing men.

"Didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?" Flores asked.

"What?"

"You didn't think we'd open the door and find Larabee and Tanner, did you?"

Shaking her head, the woman said, "No... well... okay, so I was hoping."

Smiling, Pascal replied, "Life usually isn't like TV. We've gotta work to earn those big paychecks."

With a snort, Cam said, "Yeah... right. Which direction do you want to start out in?"

Flipping an imaginary coin, the dark-haired man canted his head. "Left."

"Left it is." Flashlights and side arms at the ready, the two agents began searching the basement.

~o~

She heard the sounds of footsteps, registered the fact that they were coming closer. She decided that there were three of them and thought that they all sounded like men. The footfalls were heavier than they would have been had there been women in their number.

She moved from the bed, deciding she didn't want to look like some languishing heroine from a cheap romance novel. Moving to the room's single chair, she perched on the edge, laying the gun in her lap. One hand lay protectively over her belly, the other closed around the butt of her weapon.

They were at the door. Several sharp raps were followed by, "ATF!"

She waited.

Twice more, they called out but she didn't respond.

There. The heavy thud and sharp crack as they began to batter at the locked door.

She waited.

The door was thrown open.

Three figures, each wearing matching jackets that she knew bore the large, yellow 'ATF' insignia on the back, stood in the doorway.

"ATF! Put the gun down and raise your hands!"

Smiling, she raised the gun, pointing it in their direction.

~o~

They had moved along the lengthy corridor slowly, their movements coordinated and efficient. They had found six doors along the way, doors that opened easily and revealed nothing. The two agents were nearing the end, the pools of light running over concrete in three directions.

Flores reached out, his hand closing around the knob of door number seven. He frowned when it didn't give beneath his touch. Trying again, he turned. "Cam?"

"Yeah?"

"We might have something. This one's locked."

Stepping across the wide corridor, she scanned the closed door. Not only was it locked, but it was bolted above and below, thick rods locked into place with padlocks. Camilla held her torch so that the light shone on the top lock. Her partner retrieved his lock pick and began to work.

~o~

Vin sat perched on the edge of the bed, watching the blond. Chris had drifted off while he massaged the knotted muscles of his back and had scarcely responded when he was moved. Tanner had lifted the limp body up, holding the other man against him while he readjusted the stack of pillows and blankets. Then gently, he lowered the blond to the bed once more.

Larabee's features were slack, mouth opened slightly as he slept. Blue eyes traced the full bottom lip, raking over the sensual dip. Tanner took a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the stirring in his groin caused by that dip. He reached out, one finger tracing the air just above that teasing mouth. He ran the tip of his tongue over his own lips and with a breathless moan, he said, "Oh... damn."

Chris stirred as if he heard those faint words, eyes moving beneath pale lids. He didn't waken, but a soft sigh escaped lax lips.

Another sound caught Vin's attention, and he turned toward the door. Listening intently, he heard it again. Fearing the worst, that their captor was returning, he moved to stand between the door and his lover. His hands curled into fists while the rest of his body appeared deceptively relaxed.

A click.

The knob turned.

The door moved open slowly.

The beam of a flashlight flared and was quickly extinguished. Blinking away the aura left by the light, he heard from the shadows outside their prison, "Tanner?"

Responding to the sound of a woman's voice, he said, "What's th' matter, Addie? Disappointed we ain't dead yet?"

"Vin? It's Cam Baines... Team Five."

Blinking hard beneath furrowed brows, he watched two figures enter the room. Then every ounce of strength that remained in his body deserted him, leaving him to drop weakly to the bed. Trembling lips curved up in a smile as he managed in a hoarse whisper, "I'll be damned."

~o~

"Buck!"

Holding the phone away from his ear, Wilmington growled, "Damn it, JD, you don't have to yell."

"They found 'em!"

"JD. . ." He refused to hope for the words he had waited to hear. Dropping heavily to the couch, he felt his hand cramp around the device at his ear.

"They found 'em!" Dunne repeated. His voice rose another octave as he fairly screamed, "They're alive!"

"Oh, my God!" Wilmington breathed, the words struggling past the lump in his throat. "Oh, my God... JD... I... oh, my God!"

Laughing now, the younger man said, "Nathan's on his way over to get you. Travis just called. We're on our way over there now."

"Where... where are they?" He fought to clear his throat, to make the words come. Tears were streaming down his face but he didn't even notice them. "Oh, God. . . JD... oh, my God!"

~o~

The big Suburban pulled to a stop, parking half on the curb as the three men spilled from the vehicle. Josiah, Ezra and JD sprinted across the street, moving toward the knot of people wearing matching nylon jackets.

Sanchez saw Jerry Wells and caught the man's attention. Without preamble, he said, "Travis called."

Nodding, the SAC of Team Five replied, "Said he was goin' to." Nodding toward the door, he continued, "Your men ought to be comin' out about any minute."

They moved toward the nearby opening, drawn like moths to a flame. Then they backed up, JD slamming into Josiah's broad body with a cry. The three agents watched as a gurney was wheeled out, an ominous black body bag strapped onto the mattress.

"Oh, Jesus... Josiah..." The youngest agent of Team Seven suddenly sounded like a little boy.

Turning toward Wells, Sanchez asked with his eyes what he couldn't find the words for.

Hurriedly, the senior agent shook his head, explaining, "It's not either of them. It's her."

"Her?" Josiah repeated as the other man came over to stand beside them.

Nodding, Wells said, "Adelaide Carson. She fired on Brown, Turner and Vasquez. They had no choice but to return fire."

Taking a deep, relieved breath, the gray-haired agent sent up a brief prayer for the dead woman. "Was anyone else -- ?"

"Brown caught one in the arm, but he should be fine."

"Josiah?" Ezra said softly, drawing the attention of the other men.

A second stretcher appeared, being wheeled out of the warehouse. They quickly identified their boss and friend lying limply on the narrow bed. The upper section of the stretcher had been raised and the blond was already being given oxygen and an IV. The emergency medical team wheeled him past the cluster of men, heading toward the waiting ambulance.

Right behind them, Vin Tanner moved from the shadows. He was walking unsteadily, supported on either side by two other agents. As they stepped into the sunshine, he blinked, and then his focus settled on the waiting men. Slowly, a broad smile split the handsome features and he broke away from Baines and Flores. With a few stumbling steps, he reached the grinning trio and was quickly swallowed up in their midst.

Vin found himself wrapped inside the comforting embrace of Josiah Sanchez and fairly melted into the warmth. He felt JD and Ezra beside and behind him on either side, their arms crossed protectively around his back. His hands wrapped tight in the fabric of the bigger man's shirt, he leaned against the barrel chest. The overwhelmed agent tried to speak but couldn't find the words.

Reluctantly breaking the tight huddle, the four men shifted slightly apart. Josiah looked down into the smaller man's face, noting the tears that flowed freely from the large, sky hued eyes. Surreptitiously running a beefy thumb over each high cheekbone, he said in a choked whisper, "Good to see you."

Laughing giddily, Tanner managed, "Good to see you, too."

A siren split the air and the congregating agents looked to see a car skidding to a stop across the street. Even before it had completely halted, the passenger side door was thrown open and a tall figure flew out. "Chris! Vin!"

"Buck's here," JD said with a grin.

Three of the four men moved to intercept the big man, not noticing that the fourth didn't move. Josiah and JD stepped aside quickly as Wilmington slid to a halt, grabbed Vin by the arms and then wrapped the smaller man in a hug. "Jesus, Junior, you okay?"

"I was!" Tanner's voice was muffled against the brunet's chest. Managing to shift out of the tight hold, he looked up at his friend. Frowning, he said, "Hey, Buck... ya look like shit."

With a booming laugh, the bigger man shook his head. "Pot calling the kettle, Tanner." Then his eyes were scanning the area. With a frown, he said, "Chris?"

Sobering, the smaller man said quickly, "Ya need to go with him, Buck. He don't know me... don't remember the rest of us. He wakes up, he's gonna be scared. He can't see real well, he won't know where he is."

"Slow down! What are you talkin' about?" Nathan asked, having just joined the gathering.

Shaking his head, Vin said, "No time, I'll fill y'all in later." Motioning toward the ambulance, he began to lead Wilmington toward it. "C'mon, ya need to go with him, Buck... make sure he's okay."

With a confused expression, the big agent nodded. "All right, okay, calm down, Junior. I'll go with 'him, you settle down." Nodding toward the other agents, Buck hurried toward the emergency vehicle where the medical personnel were just preparing to transport the blond man to the hospital.

The rest of Team Seven watched as Wilmington stepped into the ambulance, the doors drawn closed behind him. A minute later, lights and siren filling the air, the emergency vehicle left for the hospital. They saw, too, that another ambulance sat waiting.

"Looks like your ride's here," Nathan said, laying a hand on Tanner's shoulder.

Shaking his head, Vin protested, "Don't need it... I'm fine." Then he began to tremble; the adrenaline brought on by his rescue was quickly deserting him. He felt his knees buckle, felt strong hands take hold of him. He frowned, wanting to protest more, but the world dissolved into a gray fog, then was eclipsed into blackness.

~o~

Buck stared out the window into the blackness that heralded the end of one of the longest days of his life. He yawned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he tried unsuccessfully to banish the tension there. A soft sound drew his attention to the narrow bed behind him. He watched the body laying there shift slightly and then settle. The sleeping man mumbled softly but didn't wake. Still, he moved to the bed, reaching out to touch one of the broad shoulders. "You're safe, stud. Go on back to sleep."

He dropped onto the chair beside Chris' bed, stretching his long legs out before him. Leaning back, his mind replayed the events of the day.

Their arrival at the hospital had elicited a flurry of activity. The blond had been wheeled into the ER and quickly taken into the capable hands of the medical staff. He had listened to the EMT's providing information on the man's vital signs as he was ushered off to provide information to the admissions staff.

Vin had arrived shortly thereafter and had been taken into another cubicle in the emergency suite. While the younger man had been assessed and admitted for an overnight stay for observation, their other friend had endured a battery of tests.

Chest x-rays, blood work and a CT scan were ordered to assess the damage done to his lungs and his head. Vin had been able to provide the needed information on the history and symptoms of his illness and injury. Then there had been consultations by an internist and a neurologist as well as an ophthalmologist and a physician from pulmonary medicine.

Finally, an exhausted Larabee had been taken to a private room where he now lay, barely responsive to the world around him. Breathing treatments had been started to ease his congested lungs, oxygen delivered through a canella beneath his nose the rest of the time. An IV dripped antibiotics and other fluids to the blond while a catheter took care of what was expelled. His vital signs were monitored continuously as was his oxygen level by the small clamp upon his finger.

The preliminary diagnoses were mixed. The CT scan showed that the concussion was resolving and they felt that his vision would eventually improve. He was suffering from pneumonia but the x-rays left them hopeful that he should respond well to treatment. His normal, excellent health would stand him in good stead there.

The verdict was less hopeful where his memory was concerned. Only time would tell whether or not the blond would recover his memory. The men of Team Seven, all of them present when the doctor had finally come to talk to them, questioned that prognosis for some time. In the end, the neurologist could only say that there were too many unknowns when it came to the human mind.

Yawning broadly, Buck scrubbed a hand across his eyes. He wished there was someone to talk to but the two of them were alone. Chris had woken up earlier only to find himself surrounded by vague forms and unfamiliar voices. Foggy and confused, he had latched onto the arm of the only person he knew. All but begging Buck to make the others leave, he had become more and more agitated. Dropping their attempts to jog his memory with introductions, the others had left quickly. Josiah had gone to sit with Vin for a bit while the others had headed home for the night.

There had been other visitors as well as phone calls to check on both agents. Buck met each visitor at the door, keeping their interaction with the bewildered blond to a minimum. Nettie and Casey Wells, Orrin, Evie and Mary Travis, Gloria Potter and Inez Recillos had all dropped by to see for themselves that the agents had been returned. Nettie's face had still been damp with tears after seeing 'her boy' but had insisted on coming to check on the blond as well.

But now it was quiet. Far more quiet than the big man needed at the moment. He wanted someone to talk to, someone who could drown out his own thoughts.

There was no way he could ever excuse his behavior during the past several days and he could certainly never ask forgiveness from the people he had hurt. Especially Ezra. He had seen the looks the smaller man had flashed in his direction. The pain and anger had been easily read, the other men looking on curiously at the nearly silent exchanges.

Other than Chris and Vin, their friends weren't aware of the more intimate aspects of his relationship with Standish. The others could only guess at the reasons behind the Southerner's chilly demeanor and avoidance of the bigger agent.

They had to talk. More specifically, he had to talk. He only hoped that he could get Ezra to listen.

But for now, he had to set all of it aside. Chris needed him and that had to take precedence over everything else.

It had only been after Vin had been settled into a room that the young agent had been able to tell them what had happened. The other five men had rallied around him, their anger and frustration well evident as he described the days and nights spent locked in the warehouse basement with the ailing Larabee. At times, the quiet Texan had lashed out angrily; at others, he had broken down. The prospect of losing his relationship with Chris had been the most difficult for him to deal with. The slender man, exhausted and emotionally drained, had finally taken refuge in Josiah's warm embrace. Buffered by the deep, gentle voice that reassured him it was all right, he had surrendered. Haunted blue eyes had finally drifted shut and Vin had fallen into a deep sleep.

Behind him, the click of the door opening pulled Buck from his thoughts. Turning, he found JD Dunne in the doorway. Softly, he greeted his friend. "Hey, Kid."

"Brought you some coffee and something to eat," Dunne informed him. He carried the white sack and large glass to the tray table. Setting them down, he looked at the sleeping man who had finally come home to them. Without a word, he turned to go.

Blue eyes searching the too young face, Wilmington could only think to say, "Thanks, JD."

Nodding, the brunet left the room. Behind him, the tall agent hung his head.

~o~

"Jesus, Vin, those are the smallest things of yours I could find," Dunne proclaimed. The jeans he had retrieved for his friend hung low on the narrow hips.

"That's what happens when you've been on a starvation diet for two weeks," Nathan pointed out. "We're gonna have to force feed you to get it back."

"Long as it's burgers and chocolate shakes y'all can just keep it comin'," Tanner declared. He pulled the heavy, long-sleeved Henley on, letting it drape over his freshly showered flesh.

For once, surprising even himself, Jackson said, "Whatever it takes."

Grinning broadly, Vin turned to JD with a wink. "Race ya to Mickey D's."

"You're on," Dunne replied with a smile.

The agents of ATF Team Seven had spent the morning preparing to 'spring' one of their own from the hospital. Vin had been released first thing, told only to 'take it easy' for a few days. His friends were bound and determined to see that he did just that. They also knew that it would take a Herculean effort to accomplish that feat.

Sitting on the bed long enough to pull on socks and boots, he stood, looking at the other two men. "Gonna go see Chris before we leave."

Nathan and JD nodded and followed him from the room. They accompanied him up two flights of stairs, knowing instinctively that Tanner needed open spaces, not closed doors. They exited the stairway and moved together down the hall to Larabee's room. Opening the door, they were unprepared for the scene being played out before them.

Chris was struggling between a nurse and an orderly, breathlessly growling threats. As his movements became more and more agitated, Vin stepped forward.

Laying a hand on one restlessly moving leg, Tanner said, "Chris, settle down. It's all right, Cowboy." His words had the effect of only increasing the man's actions.

Groggy, confused and finding himself surrounded by shadowy figures, Larabee struck out angrily. "Get the. . . hell. . . away from me! L-let me. . . go! Buck?"

"Ah, hell." Wilmington's voice joined the cacophony of sounds as he hurried into the room. Tossing aside a half full foam cup, he moved past Vin as he said firmly, "Calm down, Chris. Calm down. It's all right. Come on, stud, calm down. Ain't nobody here gonna hurt you."

They watched as quickly, Larabee became still. Broad chest heaving, he lay trembling on the bed amongst a tangle of blankets. With a sigh, he said, "Buck?"

"Right here. I'm sorry, buddy. I just stepped out to get some coffee when the nurse came in to check you over. I'm right here now. You're okay. Now, calm down and let these nice folks do their job, okay?"

Almost meekly, the blond replied, "Okay."

Vin watched the interaction through tear-filled eyes. His heart broke as his presence went unnoticed while his partner and lover relaxed only with someone else's help. Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, he rasped, "Take care of him, Bucklin," before bolting from the room.

JD ran after the heartbroken man. Jackson paused only long enough to assure Wilmington that they would take care of Tanner. Then he hurried from the room.

Behind them, Buck heaved a sigh then turned his attention back to the blond. He could feel their world falling apart.

~o~

Vin stared out onto the street, snow glittering in the late afternoon sun. He was staying at Ezra's townhouse, reluctant to go out to the ranch. Even though he ached, body and soul, to be home, he couldn't bring himself to go there. Partially, he felt the need to be closer to the hospital while Chris was there. Mostly, however, he couldn't stand the thought of being there without his partner.

"Vin?"

Turning toward the undercover agent he had heard approach, Tanner said, "Yeah?"

"Pizza's here."

A chuckle bubbled up, erupting from the weary man. Keeping the smile in place, the Texan said, "Now that's somethin' I never expected to hear you say, Ezra. Ya call the order in and everything? Ya use one of your aliases?"



Feigning a pain-stricken expression, the Southerner said, "Yes, well, believe me, it was something of a trial."

"I'll bet," Tanner teased as he shuffled through the house behind the other man. As they moved into the living room, he registered the tastefully appointed decorations that had been added to the room. Frowning, he said, "Ah, hell."

Turning toward his houseguest, Standish asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's almost Christmas, ain't it?"

Tentatively, the undercover agent said, "Today's the 16^th, Vin."

With a deep, trembling breath, the sharpshooter dropped to the couch. "Nine days."

Growing concerned at the other man's reaction, Ezra sat down beside him. "December 25^th is only a date, my friend. We all vowed that we wouldn't do any celebrating until the seven of us could be together for it although actually, we have already begun our celebration. It started the moment we saw the two of you emerge from that damnable warehouse."

Tanner managed a faint smile. "Ain't sayin' we don't have anythin' to celebrate, but... "

When the other man grew silent, the Southerner continued, "But until Chris has truly returned to our company, memory intact, there will be a damper on any celebration."

Nodding, Vin said, "Yeah. And... hell, Ezra! What am I gonna do if he don't remember? What 'm I gonna do if he don't... don't remember me?"

Reaching out, Standish rubbed a hand over the other man's shoulders. Leaving his arm wrapped loosely around Tanner, he said, "I cannot fathom that happening, my friend. What the two of you share is far too strong for a single blow to the head to destroy. However... if it should come to that, then you have five friends who will see you both through whatever changes come of all this."

The Texan's head bobbed up and down once, his Adam's apple working vigorously as he fought to overcome the emotions that welled up from the center of his soul. Swiping angrily to wipe away the tears that threatened once more, he choked out, "Damned if I ain't tired of this, too."

With a compassionate smile, the green-eyed man said, "For everything you've been through the last two weeks, I believe that a few tears are warranted. However, when you've composed yourself... the pizza is getting cold."

"Ah, hell, we cain't have that, now can we?" Tanner said, managing a smile.

"Most certainly not. Besides, I fear that the grease will eat through the cardboard box and destroy the finish on my countertop."

"Reckon we'd better go save your fancy tiles then, huh?" Vin retorted with a laugh.

"Indeed. Now, come along. I have orders from both Nathan and the indomitable Mrs. Wells to - in their words - 'fatten you up'."

"Oh, hell, y'all are gonna have me big enough to pass for one of the Klumps."

"Who?"

Giving the smaller man an incredulous stare, Tanner said, "Ya aren't kiddin', are ya? Eddie Murphy? Nutty Professor?" When the Southerner looked at him blankly, he continued, "Ah hell, Ezra, we're gonna have to make a trip to the video store... gotta give ya some culture lessons."

"Be still my heart... Vincent Tanner has claimed me for his own Eliza Dolittle."

"Who?"

~o~

"Vin... Vin?" The name was called softly, the voice that spoke it a rough rasp.

Buck pushed himself up in the chair, leaning forward to check on his friend. Chris was moving restlessly on the bed, blond head tossing on the pillow. Reaching through the side rail, the big man squeezed the man's hand, the fingers fidgeting and picking at the blanket. "Chris, it's okay, stud, you're okay."

"Vin... Vin... what are... Vin?" Suddenly, hazel eyes flashed wide, shock in their depths. "No!"

"Chris? C'mon buddy, it's okay. It's Buck, Chris... do you hear me?"

The groggy man turned, faulty eyes searching the dimly lit room for the voice's source. "Buck? What... oh, God... I... it was a dream? But... it was so real. I... what's going on?"

"Take it easy," Wilmington urged as the confused ramblings continued. "What's wrong? Yeah, it was a dream, but talk to me, Chris... what's wrong?"

Larabee tried to form the words that would describe the scene playing in his head. A man. Even though he had no memory of him before the days they spent together as prisoners, he knew that it was Vin Tanner. And Vin Tanner was standing before him, smiling. And naked. And Vin Tanner's eyes, deep set and the blue of summer skies, were looking at him. And in those brilliant mirrors he saw one thing.

Love.



And that love was directed at him.

And everything within him screamed that this wasn't a dream but a memory. But no, it couldn't be, his mind protested. He was... no, had been... had been... a husband and father. He had loved his wife and son with every fiber of his body. And when he had lost them... lost them, he knew that now, remembered it... he had buried his heart with them. He could never love anyone else... not like that.

And certainly not another man.

All of that went through the confused man's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to speak any of it. Forcing himself to draw as deep a breath as he was able, Chris shook his head. Turning away, he closed his eyes as he muttered hoarsely, "It's... it's all right. It was just a dream."

~o~

Vin lay on his back, staring into the darkness toward the ceiling. He was still trying to comprehend the fact that he was free of Addie Carson and her insane quest for revenge. Every few minutes, he had to remind himself that he was staring up at Ezra's ceiling and not that of the warehouse. It didn't quite seem real yet. He raked his fingers through his hair, then let his arm fall to the pillow above his head. Standish had offered him something to help him sleep but he had refused. While it would have been easier to let the pills the other man offered ease him into a dreamless sleep, he denied himself that peace. Instead, he lay there in the darkness, alone with his thoughts.

He could imagine only too well what it would be like if he found himself once more 'out in the cold.' Heaven knew he had been there often enough. Part of him had known all along that the sort of thing he had found in Chris Larabee's arms was far more fragile than most people imagined. Even as strong as the blond was, as committed as he was to their making a life together, not even the all-mighty Larabee could conquer fate. And Vin's fate seemed to be living alone.

Growling, the slender man rolled over onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms. When had he become such a pessimist? There had been a time when he had been able to look at any situation and see the positive in it. There had been a time when he was the one dragging Chris' sorry ass out of the depths of pessimism with his optimism. And even though he swore that trait drove him crazy, he knew that the older man had loved that in him.

Heaving a soul-deep sigh, Tanner pushed himself off the bed and padded out of the borrowed room. He had stayed with the other man often enough that he knew his way around in the dark and he put that to good use. With light footsteps, he moved through the house, letting that aimless action pull him away from his dreary thoughts.

Going to the kitchen, he found a glass and filled it with water. 'More than half full,' he thought with a smirk. He still had it in him to be optimistic; he just had to translate that ability into action and make this situation work out to their advantage.

'Hell, maybe me and the boys can use this to keep the stubborn fool from bitin' our heads off so much... tone down that glare of his.' He had to chuckle at that, remembering the times he'd seen this sort of situation on television. Hell, in that one episode of "Married with Children," Al had convinced amnesiac Peggy that she was the perfect housewife. Maybe he could do something like that with Chris. Then the humor died in his eyes and he slumped against the counter. Chris Larabee wasn't perfect, not by a damn site.

But the man was perfect for him.

"Is this a private party, or might I join you?" Ezra Standish asked from the doorway.

Clearing his throat, the Texan said, "Just getting a drink of water, c'mon in."

"If you're interested, I'm certain I have something more refreshing than tap water," Standish offered.

"Reckon I could be persuaded. Did I wake you?"

Looking into the handsome face, Ezra couldn't completely lie. "Let's just say that I'm a bit hyper-sensitive to night sounds."

One corner of his mouth curving up, the sharpshooter said, "I woke ya up."

"No matter," the undercover agent replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, you keep thinkin' that when your at work in a few hours."

"Yes, well things have been quiet there anyway with just four of us."

"Four?" Vin frowned, then said, "Bucklin... what'd he do?"

Ezra's features took on a hard cast, his eyes growing dark. Not wanting to unload his own problems on the already overwhelmed man however, he said only, "He's made some... poor choices... since you and Chris have been gone. You know where the liquor cabinet is, Vin. Please help yourself. I... I suddenly feel quite weary, so I'll say good night. Again."

Before he could ask anything more, Vin watched the smaller man all but run from the room. He considered going after him but knew Ezra well enough that he knew how close-mouthed the man could be. Deciding that he would see if he could find out more from JD later, he set the glass down and returned to Standish's guest room.

~o~

The day dawned behind gray clouds, reflecting the moods of the men of Team Seven. The hopes they had shared, that once they were reunited things would return to normal, were dashed by the cold light of reality. While Chris' physical health was showing signs of improvement with the proper medical attention, his mental health seemed to be declining. After a restless night fraught with half remembered visions of a life he still couldn't remember, he was withdrawn and surly.

Buck refused to leave his side after the incident of the night before, afraid that a sense of abandonment had contributed to the man's reaction to the medical staff. He went no farther than the other side of the room no matter what care the blond needed. And even then, he made certain that his old friend knew he was nearby.

The other five men converged on the hospital five minute before visiting hours began. JD carried a gym bag containing clean clothes and other personal effects Buck had asked for while Nathan carried a white bag containing pastries and a large carry-out cup of coffee for the big agent. As they waited for the elevator, he reached into the bag, pulled out a large chocolate-covered doughnut and handed it to Vin.

With a soft chuckle, the Texan said, "Hell, Nate, I already ate breakfast." His statement didn't detour him from accepting the pastry, however.

The soft ding announced the car just then and the men waited for the doors to slide open. Four of them cast sidelong glances at the fifth, wondering if he would opt to take the stairs. Instead, Vin slipped inside the elevator, leaning against the back wall as the others joined him.

The trip went quickly, Tanner licking the last of the chocolate from his fingers as they exited on the floor where Chris was currently an occupant. The five men moved quickly down the hall, calling more attention to themselves than any of them were aware of. Reaching the blond's room, they entered quietly.

Buck looked up from where he lounged on one of the vinyl covered chairs, smiling when he saw the quintet move into the room. "Mornin', boys."

"Good morning," Josiah said softly. Like the others, his gaze went from Wilmington to Larabee and back.

Chris lay silent on the bed, his head turned to one side. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly. They could see that he had already been bathed and shaved, his blond hair still slightly damp. The remnants of his breakfast still sat on the tray table, the men disappointed to see that little had been touched.

"Said he wasn't hungry... barely got 'im to eat that," Buck explained, reading the looks easily.

"How'd he sleep?" Vin asked from where he stood near the foot of the bed. His eyes hadn't left the dozing man since they had arrived.

With a shake of his head, the bigger man said, "Not real good. Kept havin' nightmares . . at least he said they were nightmares."

"You don't sound convinced," Sanchez said.

"Got the feelin' they were more than dreams."

"Memories?" Nathan ventured.

Nodding, Buck turned his gaze toward the slender sharpshooter. "Kept callin' your name, Vin."

Frowning, Tanner said, "Why the hell didn't ya call me? I'd have come - "

Holding up a hand, the bigger man answered, "I didn't call you because... well, because of the way he reacted to it all."

"What do ya mean?"

Not able to meet the man's eyes now, Wilmington studied the pattern of the tiles beneath his feet. In a voice so soft that the others had to strain to hear it, he said, "It scared him, Vin. Whatever it was... it scared the hell out of him."

"Buck?"

Six pairs of eyes flashed to the bed and five men unconsciously moved back away from it. The sixth man moved forward, laying a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Right here, Chris. Need somethin'?"

"Heard voices... doctor?" Hazel eyes opened, tracking around the room. In the brighter light of day, he could see several figures standing across the room. Not able to make out details, he asked, "Who's here?"

"It's... well, it's the guys, Chris. The other members of the team... remember? They were here before." Buck's voice was hesitant, deep blue eyes turning quickly from the blond to the other men and back.

"From... the guys... the team," Larabee echoed softly as his sleep-slowed mind cleared. Then he scowled, pale brows furrowing. "Is he here?"

"He?" Wilmington was stalling, uncertain of how to proceed.

"Tanner... Vin... are you here?"

Stepping closer, moving from the corner and into the light, Vin said softly, "Yeah."

"Get out." The blond's voice was low but filled with emotion.

"Chris," Buck intervened, watching as the slender young man's heart shattered, the shards scattering to the floor beneath their feet. "Chris, listen -"

"No. Get out, Tanner. I don't want you here."

"Now, look. . ." The mustached agent's voice rose. "Damn it, Chris."

"Bucklin," Vin's voice was scarcely a whisper. "Let it be. I'm goin'."

The others watched as the Texan slipped from the room, head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. JD moved quickly to follow the other man, Ezra trailing along after. Nathan and Josiah remained, a mix of emotions playing across each man's face. The three of them could only stare at each other for a long moment. Finally, Sanchez broke the silence.

"Do you need anything else, Buck?" His voice was low, reaching the bedridden blond as little more than a rumble. When the brunet shook his head, he continued, "If you need us, you know where we are."

As Wilmington nodded, the other two left the room. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned, slumping in the chair. Scrubbing a hand over his weary face, he asked softly, "Why, Chris? Why did you have to do that? My God... you damn near killed him."

Larabee didn't answer. Pulling himself onto his side, he turned from the other man. Squeezing his eyes closed tight, he managed a shuddering breath, his fists clenched tight against his chest. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten while seeming to grow at the same time until he thought it was going to suffocate him. Tears dripped down his face, falling to the pillow beneath his head.

~o~

"Vin? Vin!" JD called out as he jogged out of the hospital. The clouds had opened up, fat, white flakes falling lazily to the ground. He saw the Texan half a block away, running full out from them. "Vin!"

"Let him go, JD," Ezra said as he caught up with the younger man. Laying a hand on Dunne's back, he said, "Give him his space."

"But we can't just let him leave like that!"

"It's the only thing we can do."

Not ready to give up yet, the brunet shook his head, snow flying from the long strands of his hair. "Friends don't just let someone they care about go off alone when they're in pain."

"You know him as well as any of us. Do you think he can handle anyone hovering over him right now?"

Dropping his head, Dunne shoved his hands into his pockets. Without looking up, he said, "No."

"When he's ready, he'll come back. And when he does, we'll be there for him. It's the only thing we can do... as his friends."

~o~

He had run until his lungs burned and then had slowed to a walk. Moving aimlessly through the streets of Denver, he barely registered the fact that the snow was coming down harder with each passing minute. His coat was fastened to the collar, the multicolored scarf Nettie had made him wrapped around his throat and mouth. His hands were stuffed into his pockets as he moved silently through the deepening layer of snow on the sidewalk. Snow coated his lashes, dripped onto his cheeks where it mingled with salty tears. He told himself his eyes were only watering from the icy wind.

*Get out, Tanner. I don't want you here.*

The words repeated themselves over and over, ripping through his soul with each repetition.

*Get out, Tanner.*

He groaned.

*I don't want you here.*

Not just 'here'. Not just in the hospital room. Chris didn't want him in his life. Period. What they had... whatever they could have had... had been taken away by a cruel act of fate in the form of one deranged woman.

He stumbled, slipping on a patch of ice and just barely catching himself. Cursing under his breath for his inattentiveness, he glanced around. Relieved that no one had been near enough to see his clumsiness, he was surprised to discover where he was. Then, his body responding to the sudden lack of motion, he realized just how tired he was. Shuffling inside the familiar establishment he took a deep breath, coughing as his lungs responded to the heated air.

Inez looked up from where she stood behind the bar, her eyes growing wide as she saw the familiar silhouette just inside the door. Tossing aside the bar rag she was holding, she moved quickly toward the man. "Vin!"

He slumped against the entryway, nodding to her. "Hey, Inez."

Coming to stand before him, she took in the frosted features, the long lashes coated with ice and the tremble that coursed through the slender body. "Madre de Dias! Vin Tanner you get in here, now!"

She grabbed his arm pulling him forward and away from the wall. Sliding an arm around his waist she led him toward her office. As they moved past the bar she called out to her assistant, "Tina, I'm going to be in the back if you need me."

The young woman looked around her, taking in the few customers scattered around the room. The lunch time rush was over, and even that had been quiet when most people opted to stay inside to avoid the snowstorm. Shrugging, she said, "Okay."

Inez led the shivering man into the dimly lit back area of the Saloon and into her private office. Settling him on the end of the couch sitting against one wall, she knelt before him and pulled off his sodden boots. She watched him as she did, growing concerned when he didn't even seem to notice her actions. Going to the closet, she retrieved the blanket, pillow and a towel that she kept there. She set the blanket and pillow beside him. Taking his chin in her hand, she caught his attention. "Vin, I'm going to go get you something hot to eat. Take off your pants, socks and coat and wrap up in the blanket. Can you do that?"

Blue eyes blinked then seemed to focus on her. "Yeah."

Smiling compassionately she quickly toweled his long hair, drying the melting snow from the loose curls. Finishing she said, "Okay. I want you wrapped up and on this couch when I get back. You're like ice we need to get you warmed up. Got it?"

Without looking up he nodded. "Got'cha."

Shaking her head, the young woman left the room. Quickly she moved into the kitchen to fix the Texan something to eat. While she prepared some cheese filled tortillas on the grill she grabbed up the kitchen phone. She dialed the number that would connect her to ATF Team Seven from memory.

"Josiah, it's Inez," She said when the big agent's voice greeted her.



"Hi Inez, I hope you're calling with good news." The older man said. They had alerted her and several other people earlier, asking them to watch out for Tanner.

"Si. He's here... showed up a few minutes ago."



"How is he?"

"Cold."



"Inez."

"I don't know. He seems... lost... I'm not certain how else to explain it."

The big man sighed. "I think that explains it very well. Can you keep him there for a while?"

"I think so."



"Good. One of us will be there soon to pick him up. Thanks, Inez."

Saying good-bye, the young woman hung up. Sliding the tightly rolled and grilled tortillas onto a plate, she placed them on a tray. Then she dished up a large bowl of pesole, still warming on the stove from lunch. Setting it on the tray as well, she added a heavily sugared cup of coffee. With a smile she added a thick slice of chocolate cake to the laden tray as well.

Carrying the tray back to her office, the bar owner found that the Texan had been paying attention after all. He was wrapped in the blanket and stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes. His jacket and jeans were draped over a chair near the room's heater, while his boots sat beside it. Setting the tray on her desk, she said gently, "Vin? Are you awake?"

Taking a deep breath, Tanner said, "yeah... just restin' my eyes."

"I've brought you something to eat, scoot up on the couch, okay?'

"Inez, ya shouldn't 'a gone to no trouble for me."

"I didn't, this was left over from lunch," Her tone was teasing but her words were meant to dispel any misplaced guilt he fostered over being taken care of. She got the response she wanted when he dropped his arm and smiled up at her. She could see the pain and sadness in his eyes, but knew better than to ask. Vin Tanner was nothing if not a private man. He would share only what he wished, when he wished.

Tanner pushed himself upright on the couch, keeping the blanket clenched tight in one hand. When he was settled he reached out and accepted the tray from her with a soft, "thank you, Inez."

"You're welcome."

The Texan took a deep whiff of the soup, the mixture of pork, hominy, garlic, red peppers and onions making his stomach growl. Picking up one of the tightly rolled tortillas, he dipped it into the rich broth and took a healthy bite. Grinning around a full mouth he looked up and winked.

"I take it that it is to your liking," the woman teased, dark eyes dancing.

"Best thing I've had for... a long time." His smile wavered, but returned as he said, "everyone says I need to put on weight... reckon this will help."

Their conversation was interrupted by a ringing phone. Going to her desk, Inez picked up the handset. "Inez... hi... yes, still here." She glanced up to see Vin focused on his tray, then returned to the conversation. "Sure, no problem. See you then."

Tanner looked up as he heard her end the phone call. "Reckon that was one of my mother hens."

Frowning, she asked, "How did you... never mind," she shook her head. The seven men she had come to know and respect never ceased to amaze her with their abilities to know exactly what the others were thinking or doing. It was a trait that stood them in good stead during risky assignments and drove others crazy the rest of the time.

With a sigh, he simply said, "which one?"

"Josiah. He asked me to make certain you wait here for them. He and Ezra will pick you up, but cannot get away until five due to a meeting with AD Travis. He is concerned because the storm is growing worse - "

"And he's afraid I'll rabbit again," Vin finished.

"They are worried about you," The woman offered as she perched at the other end of the couch.

"Reckon I gave 'em reason to be," He nodded and then stared down at his food.

She could see that he wasn't ready to talk about whatever had caused him to wander the streets for hours on such a cold and snowy day, so only asked, "will you stay?"

Offering her the ghost of a smile, he said, "ain't goin' nowhere, I promise. Wouldn't want the boys breathin' down your neck on my account."

With a soft chuckle, she said, "thank you... with my luck they would send Buck to pester me."

~o~

The blond had been in and out of the room during the morning as they tended to his medical needs. They had gotten him to walk the entire length of the corridor, although he had needed to rest before making the return trip. He had set in a recliner through lunch, picking at the food with little interest. As the activity wore on him, he began to doze, Wilmington summoning the nurse and helping to settle his friend back in bed.

He had tried a few times to get Larabee to talk, but had received little more than a few grunts and several unfocused stares. Now he watched as the weary man dropped off to sleep and hoped that this time there would be no dreams.

~o~

The pretty young bar owner kept watch over her charge through the afternoon hours, but did her best not to make him feel crowded. She managed to talk him into eating two bowls of pesole, several tortillas, and two pieces of cake. Afterwards he curled up on the couch and drifted off to sleep.

She stepped softly into her office every half hour or so, checking on the young man. With a maternal smile she tucked the blanket around one bare, exposed leg and then added a second cover during one of her checks. He sighed and shifted slightly, but didn't wake.

Reaching out, she gently brushed the loose curls from his face and stood watching him for a moment. The finely chiseled features were too pale, the flesh beneath his eyes bruised. Even asleep she could see the tension fixed in the handsome face. With a sad sigh, she shook her head and left the room.

~o~

"Sh, c'mon Chris, settle down." Buck leaned over the bedrail, gently squeezing the restless man's shoulder. The nightmares had begun again, Larabee muttering frantically in his sleep.

The blond head thrashed on the pillow, dislodging the canella from beneath the man's nose. Cautiously Wilmington placed a hand on each side of the ashen face. "Chris Larabee, you listen to me. You need to settle down."

Pale brows furrowed and hazel eyes blinked open in what was becoming an all too familiar unfocused gaze. "What? Buck?"

"Yeah, you were havin' another dream."

"Why?"

Frowning, the bigger man said, "Because you were asleep I reckon."

"No. Why do I keep have. . . having these dreams?"

As he carefully adjusted the tube beneath his friend's nose, Wilmington said, "I don't know, stud. Why don't you talk about them. . . tell me about them. Maybe I can help you figure them out."

"No." Larabee said firmly, twisting out of the man's hold.

Heaving a sigh the brunet flopped onto the nearby chair. "I can't help you if I don't know what you're talking about." He had a good idea, but needed the confused man to say it.

For several minutes the room was filled with silence, Wilmington deciding that his friend wasn't ready to talk yet. Then a quiet voice, rough with emotion, broke into his thoughts.

"I keep seeing. . . him. I have no memory of ever seeing him before. . . but I know that it's him."

"Who?" Buck prompted softly.

"Vin. . . Tanner. In all the time we were there in that place together. . . there was nothing... no indication. But since I've been here... I keep having these. . . these dreams. I see him. . . see him looking at me. And there's this feeling. . . I can see it in his face and... . and part of me responds to it. I don't understand where it's coming from. I just. . . I don't understand," Chris finished helplessly.



"Tell me about the feeling, cowboy."

He shook his head, denial beginning to form on his handsome features. "No, I can't. . . I won't. . . it's just. . . it's not. . . no."

As the smaller man grew more agitated, the mustached man lowered the bedrail and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching out he placed gentle hands on his friend's shoulders. "C'mon, calm down. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Nothing! Nothing to be afraid of? You don't. . . you don't understand. . . it's love, Buck. I see it in his eyes. He loves me! And. . . oh my God. . . I can feel myself respond to it."

His thumbs rubbing gentle patterns on the trembling shoulders, Wilmington said softly, "it's all right, Chris. Calm down for me... it's all right." Suddenly the body beside him grew still. The blond stared up at him, shock on his face.

"You. . . you know?"

Smiling compassionately the bigger man said softly, "yeah. Have for a while now."

Anger twisted the handsome features. "No! No, you're. . . lying to me! Get the hell. . . away from me. God Damn you! Get. . . away from me!"

Buck recoiled from the violent outburst, but quickly recovered. "Now look Chris, you need to - "

"I said get the fuck out!" The blond pushed himself up off the mattress. "You fucking liar, get the hell out of here now!"

"Settle down, damn it!" The bigger man reached for the blond, only to find himself shoved backward. He stumbled and landed against the chair, sitting down hard.

The blond was off the bed now, yanking the canella from his face and tossing it aside. He pulled the IV loose just as a hand grabbed him. He clawed at that hand, pushing it away with a growl.

"Chris! Stop it!" Wilmington tried once again to reach the other man.

Larabee wasn't certain where he was going, only that he wanted away. Away from the lies the man he called friend spoke. Away from the thoughts, feelings and dreams that presented themselves as memories. Away. He needed to get away.

The fact that he had been deathly ill for three weeks had no chance against the fury that overtook the blond. The more Buck tried to reason with him the more he was fueled by anger. His faulty vision did little to deter him; anything or anyone in his way faced his wrath.

The wheeled bed tray skidded across the room, the half-full pitcher splashing water against the wall.

The bed thudded hard against another wall, hitting the IV stand as it went and leaving it tilted sideways. Already dripping, the clear liquid now spewed over the floor.

The little side table was next. With a single, vicious swipe of his arm, Larabee sent the get well cards and gifts crashing to the floor. The phone slammed against the wall before clattering noisily and landing on the linoleum.

During it all, Buck tried his best to stop the injured man without hurting him.

By this time the noise had alerted the hospital staff and a pair of large, male orderlies rushed into the room. They immediately moved to restrain the violent patient.

"Don't damn it! Stop, let me handle it!" The brunet's protests were all but drowned out but the sounds of the struggle.

"No! Let go! Leave me. . . alone! No!" Chris' protests rang out then began to diminish as the orderlies skillfully took control of the situation. He continued to fight against their restraint, but the long days of illness had taken their toll. As his strength finally deserted him, he hung limply between the two men. His breathing was reduced to shallow, raspy pants, drawn through blue tinged lips. Still he did what little he could to fight against the orderlies.

"Let. . . me. . . the. . . fuck. . . a. . . lone!" It was more of a plea than a demand now.

"Take it easy, Mr. Larabee," one of the two men said.

"Fuck. . . you," was the response just as Chris' knees buckled.

A nurse stepped in, administering a sedative to the nearly unconscious blond. Chris struggled for as long as he could but, finally, he succumbed to the drug's effects.

The nurse moved over to where Buck stood against the wall. "We'll take care of him - "

"I'm not leaving. " Wilmington cut her off.

"Buck," the nurse said in a kind yet firm voice. "He's going to be out for a while. Get out of here and let us do our job. In fact, why don't you - "

"Don't say 'go home', Ruby." His eyes were focused beyond the auburn haired nurse, watching as the orderlies settled the blond on the bed.

"Fine. Then at least go get something to eat." She arched a brow and folded her arms. "Don't make me call Nathan."

The big man had to smile at that. "I think we're gonna have to find a new hospital. Y'all know us too well here."

"Maybe if you boys would stop playing super heroes. . ." She trailed off as she unfolded her arms and began to push him out the door.

"Fine, I'm goin'. I'll be down at Peretti's if you need me."

~o~

With a yawn Vin blinked his eyes open, frowning while his sleepy mind slowly processed where he was. Raking long fingers through his hair, he glanced toward the wall clock. Five-twenty-five, he had slept away most of the afternoon. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he pushed himself up to rest against the arm of the couch.

He knew he should get up and get his clothes on the others would be along to pick him up any minute. At the moment though the prospect of moving that much was too much to contemplate.

He felt older than the hills.

"Vin?"

Looking up, he saw his friends and co-workers standing in the open doorway. "Hey fellas."

Josiah entered, followed by Ezra. Both men chuckled at the sight of the sleepy countenance, the slender body wrapped in blankets. They also took in the sight of the drying clothes hanging across the room.

"Well, don't you look comfortable," Sanchez said as he reached down and tugged at the bare toes peeking from beneath the blankets.

"Indeed," Standish agreed. "It would seem that our intrepid sharpshooter has spent a leisurely afternoon in the beautiful Ms. Reccillos' company whilst we were forced to endure hours in the company of either known felons or AD Travis."

"Oh yeah?" Tanner refused to rise to the bait. "Which was the' worst?"

Tossing Vin's pants to him, Josiah said, "if you'll get your pants on, Ezra's offered to buy us dinner."

Frowning as he threw back the blankets and slipped into his warm jeans, the Texan said, "We ain't goin' to one of your hoity-toity places are we?"

Leaning against the door facing, the Southerner affected a shocked expression. "Only if I wish to be blacklisted from ever returning. I thought perhaps you would like to choose the restaurant. My only request would be that it doesn't boast plastic décor and food delivered in cardboard containers."

"Got'cha... no McDonald's," Tanner teased.

~o~

Buck had called the office from the little bar and grille and got them to promise not to come by. Although he used the declining weather as a reason, it was more than that. Chris was already in a bad state. Waking up to a room full of visitors that he no longer remembered wasn't likely to improve it. He didn't share that with his friends, however.

He stayed at Peretti's longer than he had intended, but he had to admit that it had felt good. Good to be out of the hospital. Good to be out of Larabee's room. Good to be away from everything that was weighing on him.

Or at least that was what he tried to fool himself into believing.

He had flirted with the waitress, flirted with the women at the next table. He had even flirted with one of the other men in the restroom. He had downed a pitcher of beer before his dinner came, and drank a second pitcher with the meatball sub and onion chips. He ordered a large coffee to go and left the restaurant, walking the two blocks back to the hospital.

And finally admitted that he had only been fooling himself. Nothing had changed.

Everything looked normal when he entered Chris' room. At least as normal as a hospital room could look. The blond lay sleeping on the freshly made bed. His face was pale the features lax, showing no sign of the rage he had vented earlier. The hospital staff had done an amazing job of cleaning up after the man's rampage.

Buck dropped wearily onto the chair he had already spent too much time in. He sat staring at the other man, watching for signs that he was dreaming. But the blond's face showed no emotion whatsoever. Finally, satisfied that there would be no more battles to fight in the near future, he settled back in the chair.

And he was alone with his thoughts.

Staring out the window into the snow-filled landscape he surrendered and allowed them to flow over him.

He remembered watching Chris and Vin dance around one another for months. Both of them desperately wanted the other and yet were too afraid to hope that the feeling would ever be reciprocated. He had seen the looks, the changes each man brought out in the other. Then they had stopped. Stopped running, stopped hiding. Stopped.

Finally he had all but literally pushed them together, forcing them to admit their feelings to one another. It had been one of his greatest accomplishments as a friend, one he could be proud of albeit secretly for some time. But now he feared that it was all for naught, and had no idea of how to make things right.

And then there was Ezra.

Every fuzzy, foggy, distorted memory came back to him with far more clarity than it should have been able to. He saw, heard and felt every thing he had put his friend through. He saw the hurt in the handsome face in response to those ugly actions. He saw the anger and hatred that seemed to grow any time he looked into those brilliant green eyes. He recalled word for word the things Standish had said to him that ugly morning, heard the pain and hurt that caused those rich southern tones to tremble.

There was no way of making amends for what he had done. There was no way he could take away the pain and hurt, no way to erase the anger.

Just as fate had taken away the relationship Chris and Vin had shared, his actions had taken away the relationship he had enjoyed with Ezra.

There was one thing he knew though. Just as he intended to do with Larabee and Tanner's relationship, he was going to fight for what he had with the green eyed Southerner.

~o~

They were settled in at a comfortable little restaurant, the three men sharing a booth. There was a candle glowing softly on the table between them, which seemed to mesmerize the younger man. He had asked about Larabee's health and had seemed satisfied with Buck's report that Chris was doing well. After that, he had grown quiet, letting the other two men carry the conversation. Only half listening to them, he poked at the softening wax, running his hand just above the little flame.

Josiah and Ezra saw the actions but said nothing. They both recognized the barely restrained urge to run in their friend's eyes. It was taking every thing the Texan had to remain in the booth rather than sprinting out the door. Both of them could see it in his face, could hear the echo of Larabee's hateful words.

Get out, Tanner. I don't want you here.

Not knowing what else to do, they filled Vin in on what had happened during his captivity, updating him on the cases they had been working on. Other than an occasional nod or question, the Texan simply listened. Just as the conversation began to lapse into uncomfortable silence, their dinners arrive. Using food as a buffer, they focused on eating.

Afterwards the three men climbed into Josiah's Suburban, the big agent offering to drive them both to Standish's townhouse. The weather had grown steadily worse through the course of the day, leaving even the heavily traveled city streets treacherous. Letting the younger men out at the curb, Sanchez promised to pick the Southerner up in the morning before he pulled back into traffic.

Leading the way into his home Ezra said, "Might I interest you in a drink?"

"Nah. . . think I'm just gonna head for bed," Tanner responded as he slipped past his host.

Standish stood in the entryway, watching the slender man move silently through the house. The slumped shoulders and bowed head told of a man who was still in misery. He wondered just how long it would be before he once again beheld the Texan's joie de vive... or if he ever would.

~o~

Buck stretched up out of the chair where he had spent the night, listening to his joints popping. With a groan he moved stiffly across the small room, leaning against the wall and looking out into the early morning light. The sun was just barely spreading its light across the landscape, which was pristine white from the snow of the day before. After several moments, he heard a soft sound behind him. Turning, he saw that Chris was stirring, and wondered if he should say anything. Deciding to wait, he simply stood with his back to the wall, watching.

The blond moved restlessly, one hand raising to rub his face and nearly dislodging the canella as he did. Stopping just short, he sighed, hand dropping back to the bed. Next, his lids fluttered open and he stared at the ceiling. Then, softly, he called out, "Buck?"

"Right here, Stud," Wilmington acknowledged his presence, hoping there wouldn't be another scene like the day before.

"You came back." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. You wanna yell at me again?"

"No. Buck, I want to go home."

"You're not strong enough."

"I want you to stay... with me. Just until... I want to... no; I need to sort this all out. I need to understand."

Risking a smile, the bigger man said, "I'll see what I can do, but you're going to have to agree to behave. No more scenes like yesterday, agreed?"

"Okay."

"Agreed?" Wilmington tried again.

With an annoyed grunt, Larabee managed "agreed".

Pushing away from the wall, the brunet said, "I'll go see what I can do."

~o~

Ezra woke early to the smell of something cooking that smelled very, very good. He yawned and stretched, rose from the bed, stepped into his slippers and donned his robe before exiting the bedroom and padding down the hall. Coming to the kitchen, he found Vin at the oven, working over it. "Something smells awfully good."

"Well, hope it tastes as good. Hope you don't mind that I raided your fridge, thought I'd make us a couple of omelets."

"I would never dissuade someone from making me breakfast."

"Good, coffee's ready, how 'bout you set the table?"

"I'd be happy to."

A few minutes later the two men were busily making short work of the omelets, coffee and fresh fruit, while they made light conversation. Finishing, Ezra suggested that they finish their coffee in the living room. There, they settled near one another on the couch, staring out at the icy landscape.

"Sure is beautiful," Vin said softly.

"Indeed. I wish I could stay here and enjoy it with you."

"I'm goin' in with y'all."

"Vin..."

"Ezra, I ain't doin' any good just sittin' here. I know I ain't cleared for the field yet, but I've got plenty of paperwork I can do. If I do that... well, I won't have to sit here and think about... things."

A variety of arguments came and went. Finally, Standish turned and focused his full attention on the troubled, blue eyes. All he said was, "I understand."

~o~

The black Ram pulled up at the end of the long drive. Buck, behind the wheel, stared out at the panoramic and idyllic scene before him. The pine trees were frosted, and there was a crisp blanket of white as far as the eye could see. He had contacted one of the boys living nearby to come clean the drive and the steps that led to the house, as soon as the doctor had reluctantly approved Chris' discharge. That had only been with the understanding that he'd have someone with him at all times. Larabee had baulked at that but, discovering that he wasn't going to get anywhere, he finally submitted to the doctor's terms. And that scared the hell out of Buck.

"We gonna sit here and freeze to death?" The blond broke into Wilmington's thoughts, his voice soft and tired sounding. The ride had taken it out of the injured man.

"Just admiring the scenery."

"How's it look? I see a lot of white."

Belatedly remembering the other man's faulty eyesight Buck offered, "Beautiful. A lot like the way it looked last year when you and - " he inwardly groaned. He had almost reminded Chris of the blizzard the year before, that had kept him and Vin trapped on the ranch for three days. They had both had a look of pure bliss by the time they returned to the office.

"Last year when, what?"

"Oh, when you and the rest of us got together for the Super bowl, and we ended up staying out here for the weekend after it snowed. We about ate you out of house and home."

"All of us?"

Heaving a sigh, Buck endorsed, "Yeah, all of us."

A myriad of emotions warred across the pale and haggard face, but all the blond said was, "Oh."

"So, let's get you into the house and warm you up."

"Yeah... okay."

The next several minutes found the two men getting out of the truck, across the cleared drive, and up onto the cleared deck. From there they entered the double, glass doors into the den. It was only then that Chris pushed completely away from his friend. "Has much changed around here?" he asked as he walked cautiously across the room.

"Nothing major," Buck admitted, standing near the door and watching as the blond moved with slow steps, but with growing self assurance. Chris Larabee was home. That only increased his concern, though. On his own territory, how long would it take for the man to demand privacy and complete independence. He couldn't help but feel that the biggest fight was still ahead.

He didn't expect quite this soon though.

"Good, you can go on home, then." It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

"No."

Turning, Larabee said, "I'm fine now. I know where everything is, and my eyesight is getting better. There's no reason why I can't - "

"I said no. Period. I agreed to stay here for now. When the doctor gives you a clean bill of - "

"I'm not arguing."

"Neither am I. Now, I'm gonna go find us something for lunch. You go on in the bedroom and take a -"

"I'm not a child!"

"Then stop actin' like one!" Buck's temper flared, and then cooled as quickly as it exploded. In a calmer voice, he continued, "you need a friend out here until you're ready to be on your own. You know what the doc said. You're no where near up to speed. You could have a relapse, or you could experience some flashbacks of some of those lost memories. When that happens, well... you're going to need someone to help you sort them out."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Look we've been skirting around this long enough, so I'm just gonna flat out ask you. Are you still pissed at me for what happened earlier?"

The emotions that flared on the blond's face were more clear cut now. Anger, rage, betrayal. "Hell yes, I'm still pissed!"

"So it's all been an act 'til now."

"Yes. So, get the fuck out of here!" With that he turned on his heel left the room as quickly as he could.

Shaking his head and scrubbing a hand over his face, the bigger man said to himself, "Oh, yeah, this is gonna be nine kinds of fun."

In the hall, Chris had to slow so he could get his bearings. The lights were off, casting the walk way in shadows. He bumped into things a couple of times but, for the most part, managed to get to the bedroom without incident.

Entering the room he had shared with Sarah for so many years, he reached out and turned on the overhead light. The whisper of air that was moved by the overhead fan startled him. He could remember thinking about installing one in the room, but never had. Then, even his damaged vision could pick out enough detail to realize that the room he had kept exactly how it had been since he and Sarah had moved into the house had been drastically changed. The walls were warm earth tones now, rather than pale yellow. Even the floral border he had gotten so much grief over was gone. Many of the pictures had been replaced by southwestern wall hangings. But the most shocking of all was the bed.





"Are ya sure, Cowboy? Yer bed's an antique, ya shouldn't give it up. Especially not for me."

"I want to... especially for you, Vin. I love you... I want to make this our place. Special"

"But, Sarah... I... "

"I'm not forgetting Sarah. The bed's only going into the spare room. The last thing she'd want would be for me to build her a shrine. She'd want me to go on... to make a new life. That's something I couldn't do for so long... you gave me the courage to, Vin. I love you..."

"NO!!!" He slumped to his knees as the memory seemed to consume him. He tried to breathe, but couldn't force air into his lungs.

In the kitchen, Buck heard the strangled scream. Slamming the cabinet door shut, he was sprinting down the hallway in a heartbeat. "Chris? Chris!"

~o~

"So, Vin, you in?"

Frowning, the team sharpshooter looked up to find JD staring at him, expectantly. "In?"

"Yeah, we're going over to the Saloon for lunch."

"Oh. Uh... sure, I guess."

Looking disappointed at the half-hearted response, Dunne simply nodded and left for his own desk.

"He needs time, Kid," Josiah said softly.

"I know it's just..." the younger man trailed off, shrugging when he couldn't really explain how badly all of this had affected him. It was true for them all, he knew, but that didn't really make it any easier.

Silence, which had become painfully familiar in the suite where ATF Team Seven made its home, ruled once more. The four men went back to work, surreptitiously watching the fifth. Vin sat at his desk, quietly typing up reports, long overdue, without acknowledging that surveillance, even if he noted it. After a time he blended in with the other normal sounds of the suite, with his slow *tap-tap-tap* and the others went about their own jobs.

At lunchtime he pulled on his coat and followed them out the suite and to the elevator. He stood in the corner of the elevator, watching the numbers flash as they passed each floor.

Exiting the elevator car at the basement level, the five men strode across the concrete floor, the sounds of their steps echoing against the walls. Vin was the last in the little parade, seeming to be there, but not. A ghost in a gathering of friends.

At lunch he ordered by rote, the things he enjoyed most of those served at the Saloon. The most emotion he expressed came when Inez spoke of his actions just a few days ago; he responded to her, but it was quite obvious that he wasn't ready to discuss that day. He allowed the others to fill the establishment's owner in on Chris' progress, surprised himself, when JD mentioned that the doctor had reluctantly agreed to allow the injured man to go home, with the promise that someone would stay with him for the time being.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Tanner's voice was soft, but filled with anger. Around him, the others shifted uncomfortably, toying with something on the table or anything else that would provide them some reprieve from answering the man's question.

Finally, Josiah spoke up. "We were going to, Vin, at lunch. We wanted to wait until you'd had a chance to relax."

"Vin, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I - "

"Forget it, Kid. You were just bein' honest... which is more than I can say about some other folks at this table."

"Look, Vin, we're sorry, all right?" Nathan leaned forward in his chair, dark brown eyes glittering intently. "We were doing what we thought was best. Maybe we were wrong; there's nothing we can do other than say we're sorry."

"Forget it." With that he became a silent presence amongst them once more.

~o~

"Chris! What is it?!" Buck entered the master suite to find his old friend on his knees, arms wrapped tight around his middle and trembling hard. Dropping to his knees before the stricken man, he took Larabee's face in his hands, trying to gain eye contact. "Chris what is it? Are you hurting? Sick? Talk to me, stud."

"I'm... fine," he panted. "Bed... please..."

Swallowing the list of questions he had, Buck lifted his friend to his feet and guided him to the bed. It took him a few moments, Larabee's inability or unwillingness to help leaving him feeling like he was maneuvering a six foot tall rag doll. Finally, wrestling the other man beneath the covers, he said, "I'll be right back, gonna go get your meds."

Receiving no response, Wilmington left the room and hurried back outside to get the small amber bottles filled with the blond's medications. Returning to the bedroom a long moment later, he found that Chris had yet to move. Going into the bathroom, he set the bottles on the vanity got a glass of water, and shook the pills out into his hand. Returning to his friend's side, he coaxed him into taking the medication, then set the glass on the table. Perching on the edge of the mattress, he asked, "Better?"

With a glare, Larabee answered, "No."

"Talk to me, pard. What's goin' on?"

"Not talking... about it."

"Now or later. Might as well be now."

"Fuck off."

Reaching out and squeezing his friend's shoulder, Buck simply replied, "Later, then," and stood, heading for the bedroom door.

Chris took a breath, struggling to fill his lungs, but couldn't manage it. He felt very cut off and alone. Suddenly he couldn't breathe at all. "BUCK!"

Wilmington was back across the room in three long-legged strides. Settling back on the bed, he placed both hands on the other man's shoulders. "I'm right here, you damn, stubborn cuss. Just relax, you're safe. Chris, you're safe, just calm down."

He continued to talk softly to his friend, doing his best to help the man relax. It took nearly half an hour to get Larabee to stop trembling, despite the comforter and an extra blanket. When he seemed ready to drift off, Buck started to stand, only to find a hand clamped on his forearm. Looking down, he saw a pair of tear-filled eyes staring at him.

"It's... it's true, isn't it? Larabee's voice was trembling and, if it was even possible, he seemed even paler.

Frowning, the bigger man asked, "What?"

"Me. Him. I'm... we're... ?" Chris stammered, unable to gather a coherent thought.

With a sympathetic smile now, Buck said, "Yeah, for almost two years now."

"Why can't I remember?"

"I wish I could tell you, stud."

"Were... we happy?"

"Disgustingly," Wilmington teased, then sobered. "Right before all this happened, you'd been having some problems, but we marked it down as being because you were pretty sick."

Frowning, Chris asked, "What was wrong with me?"

"Virus, helped along by the fact that you're bull-headed and refused to take care of yourself. Vin took you to the doctor, then headed home... then you both disappeared."

"I... God... I just can't... wrap my head around any of it."

Squeezing Larabee's shoulder, the bigger man said, "then just let it come to you, don't try to force it. You need to concentrate on getting better, stud. The rest will come when it's time."

"But I need to know... now. I need to..." Chris sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"Exactly." Buck teased gently as his friend yawned a second time. "Get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna go see what's in the kitchen to fix and get us some dinner going."

"Yeah, okay..." with another yawn, Larabee was drifting into a light doze.

~o~

Buck was stirring a pot of vegetable soup when the phone rang. Grabbing the handset before the ringing woke his friend, he answered, "Larabee's."

"Thought I'd check in and see how things are going."

"Hey, Nate. Had a few rough patches, but he's sleeping now."

"You sure this is a good idea? He's still awfully weak."

"I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea but he was adamant. Didn't think it'd do any good to keep arguing about it."

A heavy sigh, and then, "Okay. Call if you need anything."

"Will do." With that he disconnected the call. The phone call as repeated twice more, once with Josiah and once with JD. He was surprised, however, when he received a fourth call, this one from Ezra.

"Yeah, he's doing okay; he's sleeping right now."

"That's good. Look, Ace..." he trailed off, unable to find the words to voice his thoughts and feelings.

When the silence stretched out, Standish said, "I'll let Vin know that things are going well. Don't hesitate to call if you need - "

"I need you," Buck said softly. "God, Ezra, tell me how to make this right."

"I doubt that you can," the Southerner said, a chill creeping into his tone. Then the phone went dead as he disconnected from the call.

"Damn it!" Wilmington growled angrily. He strode across the kitchen and slammed the handset back into the base.

~o~

Vin watched as Ezra ended the call and then continued to stand; shoulders slumped, staring out the balcony door. He waited for several minutes, but the other man didn't move, or offer any information. Finally he spoke quietly, "Chris okay?"

Starting, having forgotten his guest, Standish straightened and turned. There was no mistaking the reason for the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes or the awful sadness that radiated from his being. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yes, Buck says they had a few problems, but that Chris is resting well now. I believe I'll have a drink, would you like to join me?"

"Sounds good to me."

A moment later the two men were sitting on the couch, watching the world growing dark as the sun went down. Each man held a glass filled with amber liquid and there was a decanter of scotch sitting on the coffee table before them. Raising his glass, Ezra said, "To... hell, what should we toast?"

Raising his glass now, Vin said in a somewhat bitter tone, "How 'bout to that bitch, Fate, and all the shit it loves to shovel over the good stuff?"

With a mirthless chuckle, Ezra clinked his glass to Tanner's. "Well spoken my poetic friend."

They sat together on the couch, staring out into a darkness broken only by twinkling lights that danced in anticipation of the coming holiday. Christmas was less than a week away now, but it did not find itself welcome in the lives of these two men.

As the evening passed, they watched a movie that neither of them really followed, and spoke very little. The liquor disappeared from the decanter, only to be replaced by another, full one. The antique Grandfathers clock announced the passing of each quarter hour, but had no more impact on the men than the movie or the holiday.

By midnight they were both comfortably drunk.

"We're gonna hate ourselves in the morning," Vin observed quietly.

With a derisive snort, Ezra replied with, "And what exactly will be different about that?"

Frowning, Tanner turned to the other man. "You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't, my friend." Standish turned toward his companion. "How can I not, after what happened? I thought that... finally... I had found someone who truly cared about me... respected me... but I was wrong."

The frown deepening, Vin said, "We talkin' about Buck by chance?"

"Indeed..." he trailed off, staring into his half empty glass.

"I thought... hell, I thought you two had... somethin'... thought you were happy the way your life was goin' together... with each other..."

"As did I, my friend. As did I." Then, as if he suddenly realized what he was saying, the green-eyed man cleared his throat and said, "I just realized that neither of us bothered to eat dinner. Shall I prepare us something? Something light, at least? I have some cheese that should go well with the liquor... and bread. Yes, I believe bread would be beneficial..." Not waiting for an answer, he stood and, somewhat awkwardly, made his way to the kitchen. Behind him a very confused Tanner could only watch.

~o~

Chris was awake when Buck entered the bedroom, carrying a tray that held a bowl of soup, some crackers, and a glass of water. He pushed himself up in the bed, leaning back against the headboard. "Didn't expect you to bring it in here, I could have gone to the table."

"Tomorrow. If you behave tonight."

With a half-hearted glare, the blond stirred the soup. "Smells good."

"It should, it's Sarah's recipe."

Larabee started to speak, thought better of it, and simply nodded as he began to eat. He was aware of the fact that Buck took his own bowl to the chair that sat by the window, bent on being close by without hovering. He was grateful for that, at least. The soup was excellent; he could have guessed that it was Sarah's at the first bite; it was the recipe she made anytime he or Adam got sick. He only wished his stomach was better prepared to eat. The thoughts and... memories... that chose their own time to pour from the recesses of his mind had him twisted and sick at heart. No soup could fix that ailment.

"Vin, you know how important it is for me to get all these reports ready. If we want all the funding we're going to need for next year, all the 'i's' have to be dotted, the 't's' crossed, and every report ready for review by January first."

"Yeah, but it's only November thirtieth, and you already look like hell, cowboy. Look, c'mon back to bed... let me give ya a back rub..."

"Vin damn it! If you're horny, go jerk off and let me alone!"

"Fuck you, Larabee."

"Chris?" Buck called out as he saw the blond clutch his head with both hands. Setting aside his bowl, he hurried across the room, just rescuing the tray before it crashed to the floor. Settling it on the floor, he dropped to the edge of the bed and took hold of the blond's hands. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"He's angry... why is he angry? I'm sorry! Why did I do that? I didn't mean to hurt him! Oh, GOD!"

Wilmington barely had time to grab the wastebasket near by before Larabee began to vomit. He shifted slightly so that he could wrap an arm around the blond's quivering shoulders, holding him as he continued to be sick. By the time he quieted, Chris was shivering, his body drenched in a cold sweat. Setting the receptacle aside, Buck shifted the other man back to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. There he ran a hot bath, returning to help Larabee into the other room. There he helped him out of the sweats he was wearing and into the tub of hot water. Chris was still shivering, his breathing coming in harsh gasps. "Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea. I'm gonna call Nate so we can get you back to the hospital."

"N-n-no."

"Chris, cut the macho shit, okay? You're sick."

"I-I'll be all-all-all right. Give me... a f-few minutes... catch my b-breath... ok-kay?"

"Ain't promisin' anything. You sit here and warm up; I'm gonna go change the bed."

~o~

"Here we are; bread, cheese... I even found some grapes. I believe this should satisfy us, my friend." As he spoke, Ezra deposited the tray on the coffee table and resumed his seat on the couch. He handed Vin a small plate and a napkin. "Shall we?"

As Standish began to fill his own plate with cheese, small slices of bread and a few grapes, Tanner studied him. There was definitely something going on, he could see it in the set of the other man's jaw and the smudges under those bright green eyes that spoke of sleeplessness. "I'm sorry, Ezra."

"Whatever for? You can't tell me you're not hungry, I fear that would signal the end of the world!"

Grinning briefly, Tanner replied, "No, it ain't that. I'm sorry that I didn't notice you were in pain, too. I was so wrapped up in my own troubles, that -"

Holding up a hand, Standish cut him off. "Don't give it another thought, my friend. We have all lost a great deal of sleep of late, but I believe we will rest much better when both you and Chris are mended."

"There's more to it, I can see it in your face. And what was that comment earlier? Why aren't you happy with the way things are between Buck and... unless somethin' happened. There's more than stayin' with Chris that's keepin' Buck away, isn't there? The way you acted earlier, after you called out to Larabee's. What happened?"

Not looking at the other man, Ezra said tightly, "Drop it, Vin. Please."

He reached out and laid a hand on the other man's shoulder, only to have it roughly brushed off. "What the hell, Ezra? What's goin' on with you?"

Standing so quickly that the tray nearly slid off the table, Ezra said, "Don't man-handle me! Now, I said drop it, and that's what I mean. I will not talk to you about this, now or ever! Drop it!" With that he stormed out of the room, leaving a very confused Vin Tanner in his wake.

Vin rose and started after the other man, concern on his face. Before he made it from the room, however, the phone rang. He hesitated, worried about Ezra. But at the same time, he couldn't let the call go, in case there was something going on with Chris. Grabbing up the handset he said, "Standish residence."

"Vin?"

"Chris?!"

~o~

Larabee felt something when the other man spoke his name. He couldn't identify it... or at least wasn't ready to identify it. He lay back against the pillows, trying his best to relax. Buck had finally given in and agreed to let him continue his recuperation at home. The hot bath had soothed him enough that he could think straight again. He quickly recognized that, whatever else, he needed to make peace with Tanner. But, to do that, he needed to know why they had fought.

"Chris?"

"Yeah. Um... look. I still don't... don't remember, but... I've had some... some memories, I guess they are... come back to me. I don't understand them... I thought that maybe... you... can you come out tomorrow? I need to talk... to understand. Please?"

Vin dropped to the floor, his legs trembling too hard to support him. Tears flowed freely and he couldn't help but smile at those four words - 'I need to talk'. "You don't have ta ask, Chris. I'll be there... God, I'll be there!"

Somewhat taken aback at the raw emotion he heard in the other man's voice, Chris managed, "good. About ten then?"

"Ten, I'll be there!" He disconnected the call reluctantly and sat, clutching the handset as he continued to cry. He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard his name called softly. Looking up, he saw Ezra standing there.

"Are you all right?"

Scrubbing ineffectually at the tears that flowed down his face, Tanner managed, "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. It was Chris, Ezra! He wants me ta come out tomorrow and talk!"

Smiling, the other man said, "That's wonderful news, my friend! Well, I suggest you get your rest, then. Tomorrow promises to be very important."

Pushing himself to his feet, Vin padded over to the couch and sat down, motioning for Ezra to join him. He frowned when his friend hesitated. "I won't touch you, I promise," he spoke softly.

"It isn't you, or your touch that I fear, Vin, I promise you. It... I simply overreacted. It... it brought back a memory that I would rather not have."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Shaking his head, still resisting the offer to join the other man on the couch, the undercover man said, "No, but thank you for your offer. I believe I'll return to my bed. You should return to yours, too. Again, it sounds as if you're going to have quite the day tomorrow, and you'll need your sleep." With that he nodded, tipped an imaginary hat, and left the room.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh, shaking his head, and wondering what was bothering his friend; Vin turned off the lights and TV and retreated to the guest room. Ezra was right. Tomorrow promised to be a busy day.

~o~

Buck was surprised to find Chris awake when he came in to check on him; the sky was just beginning to lighten. "Hey, how're you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, right. You ready for breakfast, then? You should eat before you take your medicine."

"Something light, okay?"

Buck frowned as he observed his old friend. Chris seemed calm, but he also seemed distracted. "Okay, what's up?"

Turning to lock gazes with the other man, Larabee said, "nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

Heaving a sigh, Chris said, "Well, you'll find out in a few hours, anyway. I asked Tanner to come out. I want to talk to him."

Worried, Wilmington said, "Talk? Or tear into?"

Scrubbing his hands over his face, the blond said, "Talk. I promise. Look, I still don't remember... much... but I need to find out about all of these... are they memories? Or something else?"

"You lost me."

Pushing himself up against the headboard, Chris tried again. "You've seen... what happened... you saw what happened when I had these... these visions... come into my head."

"Yeah, a little hard to miss."

"Try living through them," the blond said with a snort. "Anyway, I need to know... what we had... what our life was like. Were we together, Buck?"

"You and Vin? Yeah, for about two years; he's lived out here for nearly a year. The two of you had this... this connection... from day one, though. Hell, after a month, Ezra was startin' a betting pool on how soon you'd stop denying things and get together."

"A betting pool!" Chris couldn't help the squeak that crept into his voice.

Smiling, Wilmington said, "Hell, the only one who didn't pick up on what you two had goin' was JD, and that's just because he's a little... slow on the uptake. Hell, even Mary backed off after a couple tries at getting you for herself."

"Mary? Travis?"

Mentally chastising himself, Buck said, "Yeah. She had a thing for you for a time. But, when she really figured out what was going on, well, she backed off. Surprised me, I'll tell you. I didn't think she'd give up like that. But then Gerard came along -- "

"So... how many people know... about... about Vin and I?" Chris interrupted.

"Honestly, Stud, it would be a shorter list to say who didn't. Now, it ain't like the two of you took out an add in the paper or something. But anyone who has the slightest clue, they know."

"How... do they... God, Buck! I feel like I woke up in another universe! I never thought... never say myself... I don't get it."

Sitting on the edge of the bed now, Buck reached out and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Chris, it's okay. Nobody is going to expect you to suddenly return to... normal. I'm happier than I can say that you're at least opening yourself up to talking about it."

Shaking his head, Larabee said, "happy? Am I happy? Was I happy? After what happened... I never expected to be happy. Not ever again."

With a compassionate expression, Buck replied, "You and me both know that Sarah would be the first one to give her blessin'. She'd rather see you with Vin than... the way you were. She'd want you to be happy, Chris."

"You're right. I know that. I just... I wish I could remember more. I hate not being... "

"In control?"

With an ironic smile, Larabee nodded. "You know it was never my strong suit. But now, I just... I don't know these men who say they're part of my team. I've gotten flashes... seen them all in my mind, I can accept that I'm their boss... and I've been your boss before."

"Yeah, not as much as you probably remember." When his words earned him a smile, he went on. "What about..."

"I keep seeing him. In ways... well, I'm not going to share them with you... or anyone for now, at least. And there's part of me that says it's all true. But then..."

Hesitating, Wilmington dove in with, "Is it the gay thing, Chris? I mean, outwardly anyway, you never seemed bothered by it. It was more a thing of getting out of mourning mode than anything else. I mean, starting to identify yourself as homosexual, it did take a little gettin' used to, but..."

Shrugging, the blond said, "No... yes... I don't know. There's some part of me... it doesn't want to acknowledge that this could be true. God, am I homophobic or something?"

"No. Look, like I said, there was something goin' on between the two of you, right before... but nobody knows what it was. Even Vin's confused about it all. He said that you all of a sudden started pulling away from him, getting angry with him for little or no reason. Maybe, look, Vin's probably the best one to talk this through with."

"Yeah. That's why I called him."

"You called him?"

"Last night. He's coming out around ten."

His grin nearly splitting his face, the brunet chirped, "You did?"

"Yeah. I need to... make sense of this all. I don't know... I just want to figure it out, Buck. It's killing me."

"You don't have to convince me, Stud. Just, do me a favor, all right? Don't have some sort of break down over it all. You get sick all over again, and I'm gonna be answering to a whole lot of folks."

Rolling his eyes, Larabee said, "You always were one for drama."

"No, this ain't me bein' a drama king, okay? This is me wantin' to keep my skin intact." With a shudder, he pictured the faces of several people who would be none too happy if he failed in his duties as care giver.

~o~

Ezra rose at 8:30 which, under the best of circumstances, was not an hour he would typically, voluntarily rise. He found Vin already up, dressed, and pacing. "Good lord, you're going to wear yourself out before you leave. Have you eaten?"

"Don't think I could. Got butterflies in my gut the size of vultures."

"Oh, that is a pleasant visual. Thank you." Standish responded, making a face.

With a grin, Vin said sheepishly, "sorry. Look, Ezra, I hate ta ask you, but..."

"Ask me anything, my friend."

"Could... would you go out there with me?"

"I... I do not think it... my friend, please do not ask me this..." the smaller man moved back, nearly falling in his effort to move away.

Seeing the shocked expression, Tanner back peddled. "I'm sorry, look, I wasn't thinkin'. It's okay, really."

"I wish that I could say it would be my pleasure to accompany you, Vin, but I just can't."

"No, look, no reason to explain. I'm just so wired, I wasn't thinkin', it's okay."

"Well, look, the least I can do is to make certain you have something to eat. I'm certain that, given your... appetite... that once you smell food cooking -"

"Ezra, really, I can't. I fixed some coffee, though, if you want some."

"Your coffee? I believe I'll pass."

"I made it weak; you ought ta be able to stomach it." Vin grinned, that cocky, lopsided grin of his.

"Well, at least I shouldn't have to replace my coffee pot, then. Well, if you're sure you're not hungry, I'm going to fix myself something." With that, Ezra moved from the living room and into the kitchen. There he fixed himself a cup of coffee, which he found was more like true coffee, and less like the mud Vin typically prepared. Toasting a bagel and slicing up some fruit, he carried his breakfast back into the living room, where his houseguest continued to pace. "My friend, you are going to have to replace my carpet if you don't desist."

"Huh?" Tanner asked distractedly.

"Sit. Please. You should calm yourself down a bit, before you leave. I would guess that your demeanor, as it is, might end this discussion before it starts."

With a sigh, the slender man dropped to the couch. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry I'm such a basket case. It's just... damn it, Ezra, this could mean my future. If Chris is willin' ta listen to me, talk ta me... hell, I've been figurin' out how to word my request for transfer. But, if me and Chris can sit down and at least talk things out... maybe things will be all right, after all."

"I do hope so, my friend," Standish said warmly. "I sincerely hope so."

~o~

Vin entered the house through the back door; feeling like an intruder but, at the same time, feeling as if he was coming home. Walking through the kitchen he entered the den, stopping in the doorway and smiling at the sight before him. Chris laid, asleep on the couch, afghan covering him to mid-chest. He wore the grey Henley that Vin loved so much, even though it looked far too big for him now. His blond hair, longer than he usually wore it, was tousled and golden.

With a groan Vin brought himself back from the brink, knowing that it would be dangerous to continue down that particular path. Taking a deep breath he cleared his throat and called softly, "Chris?"

Larabee jerked, blinking awake slowly. His first response was to tense, pressing against the back of the couch. Vin felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Then, as the other man gathered himself, he relaxed, even managing a smile. "Hi. Sorry, I dozed off. Come on in and have a seat." As he spoke, he pushed himself up so that he was sitting and brushed his hand through his disheveled hair. "Sorry. Um, would you like something to drink?"

"I can get it, you thirsty?" Vin asked, halfway to his recliner. He found himself wanting to identify it to his amnesic partner; wanting to declare just how many things inside these walls were his; gave him some claim to the home.

"Uh... yeah, I'd like some coffee."

"You supposed to have coffee?" Vin couldn't help but smile at the glare he received. "Missed that. Okay, is Bucklin around?"

"Bucklin? You call him Bucklin?"

"Yeah, it's sort of a nickname. He around?"

"He's... out in the barn. Why?"

"I'll get you some coffee but, if he comes in, you got it yourself." That garnered him a smile. "I'll take that as a yes." Without waiting, he went to the kitchen, poured two cups of coffee, and returned in record time. He tried to tell himself that he was racing against Buck coming in but, deep down, he knew he was racing back to make sure that Chris was still there.

He was, still there, the afghan still draped across his legs, his blond hair still mused from sleep. Vin wasn't certain he was going to make it much longer. Maybe it would be better if Buck did come back from the barn. All he said though, was, "here ya go. Strong and black."

Reaching out, Chris took the mug, noticing how the other man moved his fingers so that they didn't touch. That, suddenly, made him feel very guilty. Looking up at the other man, he said softly, "I remember how things were, back in that place. I remember how much you did for me... cared for me... I... I wanted to tell you that I appreciate it. All of it."

"No problem," Tanner said as he took his seat. It was his seat. Back, even before he'd moved in with Larabee, they had tracked down and bought this chair. It matched the one already there, and told him that he was now a part of this home. Home. How many times had Chris told him that he was what made it a home now? He longed to scream that at the man across from him; to make him remember how things had been. Before. But, all he said was, "I'm glad I could do it."

"I'm sorry. Sorry that I... fought you."

"You were sick, Chris, I knew that."

"Still..."

"Hey, look, if that's what's bothering you, well, don't let it. It's okay."

Smiling, the blond said, "It bothers me, yes, but it's not what I wanted you to come out for. I... damn, I didn't think it was going to be this difficult."

"It doesn't have to be. Look, you said you had some memories, some dreams. How can I help you with them? Whatever I can do to help you understand them."

Taking a deep breath, letting it out, and taking another, Larabee struggled with his thoughts. He drank the cup of coffee, barely registering that he was doing it. And still, he wasn't certain he could make the words come.

"Chris?"

"Yeah... um... look, I've had some dreams... or... I thought they were dreams. But... they... they felt real... feel real. Vin, they feel right."

Another long silence, both men finding it less and less comfortable.

"Hey, Junior! I didn't realize you were here." Both men turned at the greeting, as Buck Wilmington entered the den via the deck.

"Uh, yeah... just got here a few minutes ago."

Wilmington stopped, glanced at first one man and then the other, a broad smile threatening to split his face. "Great. Chris Larabee! You are not supposed to be drinking coffee!"

The other two men looked at one another, finding themselves smiling and then laughing. Turning back to his old friend, Larabee simply shrugged. Then, a devilish glint lighting his eyes, he said, "Vin brought it to me. I couldn't be a poor host and refuse, now, could I?"

"Hey, now!" Tanner protested.

Huffing out a breath and throwing up his hands, Buck said, "I give up. Look, since you two are gonna go against the doctor's orders, I don't want to know anything about it. So, how about I go pick up something to fix for lunch? I'll be back in half an hour or so."

"Uh... I..." Chris stammered anxiously.

Seeing the man's growing discomfort, Vin said, "Hey, look, I'll go."

"No, no," Larabee protested. "I invited you out here to talk, Vin. Buck, you sure you don't mind?"

"Hell, I'm chompin' at the bit to get a little break from this place. I'll be back." With that, Wilmington waved and hurried out the door.

"Chris... you sure?" Vin asked, seeing that Larabee still looked uncomfortable.

"I'm sure. Vin, I'm not going to lie and say that I'm completely comfortable about any of this. I still... I don't remember... it's strange." He paused, gathering his thoughts. Silence reigned in the room other than the soft rustle as Chris picked at the afghan; staring at it as if it held all the answers. Vin, usually comfortable with silence found this one impossible to manage. Larabee couldn't help but watch his guest as the other man began to wander around the room. First the bookcase, running long fingers over the spines of several of the books there. Then on to the fireplace, poking at the remains of the last fire there. Then to the desk at the far end of the den. Mesmerized, Chris watched as Vin picked up the picture sitting on one corner. He couldn't see it from where he sat, but had looked at it earlier, when his own anxiety sent him moving around the room. It was a picture of the two of them, he and Vin, taken during a fishing trip. They were both scruffy and unkempt, but smiling broadly as they each held up a string of several fish in one hand, while their other arm was draped around the other's shoulder. He had seen the look of contentment and happiness in his own eyes, reflected there. That look was one that left him questioning the strength and depth of his relationship with Vin Tanner. Softly he began speaking again, his voice barely reaching Vin's ear. "I have these... memories? I see you, see us... like in that picture... and it feels right... feels true. But I still don't... I don't remember any of it. I know that sounds crazy, I can see in my mind's eye it but I don't remember a damn thing. That sounds so strange; I see it in my mind's eye but it's... it's as if I'm remembering someone else's life. I don't know..."

Carrying the picture with him, Vin moved back to the recliner. "At least it feels right for you now," Vin said in a tone of relief that would have sent him to the floor if he hadn't already been seated. "To be honest, Chris, I... well, I sort of lost hope that we'd even get to that place."

Smiling now, the blond said, "I'm sorry. I know it's been hard on you - "

"Both of us, Cowboy... both of us." Then, seeing a frown coming over his partner's handsome features, Vin continued, "What?"

"Cowboy..." Hazel eyes seemed to be seeing something far away now. "You call me Cowboy... I... you told me once that you couldn't see... calling me anything else... it was your way of... of saying 'sweetheart'."

Blinking back tears, Tanner acknowledged, "That's right."

"And... pard... partner. Forever."

A nervous laugh joined the tears. "You got it."

"God... Vin? I... it's..." He rubbed trembling hands over his paling face. "Vin?"

Throwing caution to the wind, Tanner moved over and dropped to his knees beside the couch. Barely restraining himself from reaching out, he whispered, "I'm right here, Chris. I'm right here. Not goin' anywhere, Cowboy."

Turning to look into the tear-washed, brilliant blue eyes, Chris Larabee saw the truth. It was all there, every word, every syllable. Every laugh, every tear, every sated moan; as if a door had been unlocked, leaving it all to spill out. Reaching out, he cupped the stubbled, square jaw. "Oh... God... Vin. My Vin. Oh my God."

Laughing and sobbing at the same time, Tanner leaned up and wrapped himself around the other man. Unable to form words, he held tight, feeling Larabee's arms wrap themselves around him, too. As suddenly as it had been torn asunder, the world was righted.

~o~

Nearly an hour later, Buck finally returned, having spent as much time as he dared away, to give the two men a chance to talk. He entered through the kitchen door, uncertain of what to make of the silence that greeted him. Had Vin left? Dropping the plastic bags filled with the food he planned to use to make lunch, he moved with trepidation toward the den. There, just inside the door, he stopped. A broad smile threatened to split his face.

Vin was sitting on the end of the couch, loose limbed and relaxed. Chris was lying down once more, the afghan still draped over his legs. His bare feet were visible, though, propped on Tanner's thigh. The younger man was gently massaging them, a look of utter contentment on his handsome face. On his part, Larabee had drifted off to sleep once more, his face completely and utterly at peace.

As if sensing someone watching him, Vin looked up, making eye contact with Buck. He grinned broadly, the immense joy shinning through, despite the silence. Wilmington grinned back, nodding as he gave his friend the thumbs up sign. Feeling a great deal of weight lift from his shoulders, he turned back toward the kitchen to prepare the steak sandwiches and salad he'd bought for lunch.

The only dark cloud that marred the day was green-eyed and, he feared, forever lost to him.

~o~

Ezra stared into the deep amber drink as he swirled it lazily in the glass. He'd spent the day catching up on personal emails, returning phone calls from holiday well-wishers and, in general, trying to stay busy and not think. The last thing he wanted to do was to think about his life right now. He'd finally gone online and booked a flight to Maine for the holidays after contacting an acquaintance who owed him a favor and owned a cabin there. He found himself craving time away for a couple weeks.

The doorbell called him away from his thoughts and he sat down the glass before answering the door. Opening it, he found himself backing up a step. Buck Wilmington stood on his doorstep.

"Ezra - "

"What do you want?" His voice was rough, a sharp edge to each syllable.

"I'd like to talk to you."

"Why?"

Drawing a deep breath, Wilmington said, "I want to apologize for... before..."

"I'm not interested."

"Ace, please..."

"My name is Ezra. I would appreciate it if you would remember that." Green eyes snapped with fury that barely covered the intense pain beneath.

"Ezra, look... I... can I please come in?"

"No, I'm not in the mood for company." He started to close the door, only to find its course impeded by the other man's hand.

"Look, I just want to straighten this out, I want us to get past it." Wilmington's eyes shone with both frustration and sadness.

His voice growing cold, Ezra retorted, "No. You want to assure yourself that I'll be around the next time you wish to attack or abuse someone."

Tears rolled down the bigger man's face as he whispered, "Look, I know I messed up. What I did was horrible. I want to make this right, please, just give me a chance."

"You cannot make this right. Ever." Standish hissed as he shoved harder, closing the door.

Stumbling backward, Buck barely caught himself before tumbling off the stoop. Then he stood there, stunned. Shocked. He knew that he had hurt the other man, both physically and emotionally, but he hadn't expected such a virulent response to his attempt to make amends.

His shoulders drooping, his head bowed, Buck staggered down the steps and back toward his vehicle. There he pulled himself behind the wheel and sat there for several long moments, staring through the windshield at the snow covered landscape beyond. The tears ran freely now, soaking into his coat and the shirt beneath it. Finally, jamming the key into the ignition, he started the engine and tore away from the curb, the truck slipping and sliding crazily. He found himself disappointed when he didn't wreck.

Behind him, on the other side of that closed door, Ezra was folded into the corner of the entryway, head back against the wall and arms wrapped around his chest. He was dry eyed, but trembling, as the emotions tumbled forth. The horrendous, vile memories of that night ripped through his mind, bringing with them memories long suppressed. Overwhelmed, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, knees drawn up, pressing against his arms. He felt the beginnings of a panic attack and struggled to keep his breathing steady. He tried to focus his mind elsewhere, away from the memories of a few days ago and away from those long ago times. It was all to no avail, and he found himself overcome.

The sounds that echoed around the foyer were that of someone whose soul had been ripped to shreds. Of an animal that had just suffered a mortal wound. And, finally, silence.

~o~

Vin looked up from watching the news as someone entered the back door. Chris had gone to bed shortly after he had fixed them both a light dinner, and seemed to be resting well, leaving him to relax, for the first time in weeks, in the first real home he had known in a very long time.

"Where's Chris?" Buck Wilmington said in lieu of a greeting.

"Bed. What's up?" Tanner could see the distress on his friend's face from across the room.

"I... well..."

Realizing the reason for the anguish he saw on the bigger man's face, Vin asked softly, "You go see Ezra?"

Surprise swept over Buck's face, then a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "Yeah. He talk to you about... anything special?" As he spoke, he dropped to one of the twin recliners.

"Not details, but I could see he was pretty upset and it was a safe bet that it had something to do with you. You wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know..." he drifted off, scrubbing rough hands over his face. After a few minutes, he said, "I did something... it was... damn it Vin, I all but raped him!"

Swallowing hard, not expecting to hear anything like that, Tanner chose his words carefully. "Buck, that ain't you... you've got a big heart - "

"And no tolerance for alcohol and stress. But it's no excuse. I hurt him, Vin. I destroyed his trust in me with a single act of selfishness. I did... I was a fucking bastard to him. Vin, I hurt him in every way imaginable." He wanted to stop, to take back the words that were spewing forth, but found that he couldn't and, deep down, didn't want to. It was a burden he'd carried for weeks, and he needed to confide in someone. Selfishly, he knew, too, he hoped that Vin could help him make peace with Standish. He didn't dare hope that they could get back what they had, but he could hope to, someday, regain something of the friendship they had shared far longer than the love they had shared.

Drawing a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh, Vin continued softly. "I knew somethin' bad had happened. Ezra just... well, he wasn't Ezra. He's been, well, he's been in a lotta pain."

"Pain I caused. Vin, you've seen more of him than any of us lately. Do you... is there, is there anything I can do? Anything that can even begin to make things right?"

With a sympathetic shake of his head, Tanner said, "I don't know, Buck. There's nothing I can think of. I'm sorry."

There was nothing but the sound of the television for nearly a quarter of an hour. Finally, Wilmington said, "I'm gonna go to bed. You stayin'?"

"I'd like to. I'll take the couch."

Pushing himself up from the chair, the big man said, "night," as he shuffled from the room.

"Night." Vin said, feeling useless to ease the other man's pain.

~o~

Morning dawned, the light drifting into the townhouse to find a haggard Ezra Standish packing a bag. He turned red-rimmed eyes toward the mirror, grimacing at his reflection. He hadn't shaved, his hair was unkempt. He was still wearing the clothes he had donned twenty-four hours ago. If his friends could see him now, they'd think him quite mad.

Closing the suitcase, he carried it through his home, setting it by the front door. He had contacted Orin Travis and requested a leave of absence. Since Team Seven was all but crippled at the moment, half the team disabled or close to it, it hadn't taken much persuasion.

Starting to disrobe as he walked back through the house, he tossed the rumpled clothing in the hamper; naked by the time he entered the bathroom. Over the course of the next hour he worked to resurrect the persona he was rarely without. The man who exited that room was coiffed to perfection; clean shaven, wearing casual and stylish clothing. Even the red-rimmed eyes were diminished to the point of being all but indiscernible now.

There was only one more thing to do.

~o~

Vin grabbed his cell off the coffee table, yawning into the phone as he grunted, "Tanner."

"Good morning."

"Mornin' Ezra. What's up?" He wasn't certain what to say, so decided to let the other man lead.

"I just needed to let you know that I'm... I'm going to be gone for a while."

"Gone?" He pushed himself up, running a hand through tousled hair. "Where?"

"I would... I'd rather not say, Vin. I need some time... some time to get myself together. I'm sorry."

"Ezra, you don't have to apologize to me. I just... what should I tell... the others?"

"Simply that I'm taking a leave. If you need to use my place... Buck has a key."

"I think... well it looks like we're... makin' some progress out here."

"That's wonderful news! I had hoped, when you didn't come back last night."

"Sorry, I should have called."

"Nonsense. You owe me no explanation. I do hope that everything will be back to normal for both of you, and soon."

"Ezra if you need anything..."

"I know," the grateful expression made itself known in his voice, "and believe me, my friend, I appreciate it."

"If you need me... need to talk... you know where I am."

"You're on my speed dial." The attempt to sound jovial fell flat. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Standish said, "there's my cab. Take care."

"You, too." Tanner realized that he was speaking to a dead phone. With a sigh he closed the cell and set it back on the coffee table. Feeling very tired now, he slid back down on the couch, rolled to his side, and pulled the covers over his head.

~o~

Chris sighed at the sight of his old friend standing out near the barn. Although he hadn't regained the visual acuity to make out much that far away, he could tell from Buck's posture just how depressed the other man was. Turning away from the glass doors, he moved back across the room toward the couch. Vin was sitting there, watching television. "I wish I knew what to do for him."

"Me, too, Cowboy," Tanner responded with a sigh.

"Are you sure that he said... that he claimed to have..."

In a voice tight with emotion, Vin said, "Yeah, he said that he nearly raped Ezra... that he'd been a bastard to him."

"My memory may be faulty but there's one thing I do know... Buck would never hurt someone intentionally. Ezra must have manipulated things, made it seem like - "

"Chris, I know you're still not remembering everything but please trust me when I say that Ezra would never do somethin' like that." He raised his hand to forestall the argument he saw in the other man's eyes. "All I know is Buck's feelin' guilty and Ezra took off for parts unknown." He had hated to be the one to deliver the news to Wilmington, that his friend and part-time lover was so upset about whatever had gone down, that he had left town.

The bigger man had taken the news hard. After several minutes of cursing; first aimed at Vin for not waking him or stopping Ezra, then at Ezra for taking off and then finally at himself, he had stormed out of the house. After twenty minutes of storming around the snow covered back yard, he had settled down enough to simply stand out by the corral, staring across the open fields beyond. He hadn't moved for nearly an hour.

"He's got to be freezing out there," Chris said, his tone worried.

"He take his coat?"

"Don't know."

Vin left the room and returned a minute later, wearing his coat and carrying Buck's. "I'll be back in a minute." Pushing open the glass door, he shivered in the winter air as he closed it behind him. He sprinted across the yard, heading toward the corral as quickly as he could. Slowing as he neared the other man, he said, "You might need this."

The only acknowledgement was one arm reaching out, one shivering hand taking the offered garment. Buck shrugged into the coat; barely able to fasten it his hands were so stiff from the cold.

"Damn it, Bucklin, you're not doin' yourself any good standing out here freezin' to death. Come back in the house, please?"

"I'm f-f-fine."

"Yeah, right. Look, I can understand, okay? But you've still got the rest of us. I know it ain't the same, but - "

"Go a...a-a-way."

"No. You're hurtin', I get that. You feel like the world's comin' to an end, I get that, too. But damn it, what's this accomplishin'?"

"Vin, damn it..." Despite the words, his tone was one of defeat. Buck turned red-rimmed eyes toward the other man. "I just... I can't... please..."

Reaching out, Tanner tugged on the other man's coat, coaxing him to move. Slowly Wilmington began to follow, allowing himself to be led back toward the house. Once there, he moved inside through the mudroom, toeing off his boots and shedding his coat. Without a word, he moved through the house and down the hallway toward the guest room.

Behind the mourning man, Vin watched him disappear into the room before entering the den. He found Chris sitting on the couch, a look of sorrow on his face. "At least he's inside."

"Maybe I should go talk to him?"

Shrugging, Tanner said, "Up to you, but maybe it'd be better to let him be for a while."

Heaving a sigh, the blond nodded. "Maybe you're right."

"Now that's a first." When Larabee looked at him with a puzzled expression, he added, "You never admit it when I'm right."

Rolling his eyes, Chris asked, "Do I point out when you're a smart ass?"

"Constantly." Vin smiled, enjoying the familiar sparring. Turning toward the kitchen, he asked, "You hungry?"

"A little."

"Good. I saw some chili in there I could heat up."

"For breakfast!?"

"Oh, yeah... okay. Bagel and coffee then?"

"I'm not supposed to have coffee... but, yeah, sounds good."

"Back shortly." True to his word, Vin returned to the den a few minutes later, carrying a tray that he sat it on the coffee table before he unloaded it. There was black coffee and a blueberry bagel, butter soaking into its porous surface, for Chris. Another mug of black coffee and a bowl of reheated chili he claimed for himself.

"I remember... you've got a cast iron gut."

Chuckling around a mouth full of beans, meat and chilies, Vin replied, "It's gettin' better all the time, Pard."

"My memory or your ability to consume the hottest things around for breakfast?"

"Meant your memory, but reckon the rest is true, too. Me and you always had great sex in the mornin'." He stopped; shocked that he had said that out loud. Then he saw the other man's blush, combined with a shy smile and he decided it was okay. "Uh, anyway, eat your bagel, Cowboy."

~o~

He disembarked with the others on the flight, moving quickly across the unheated bridge to the Bangor, Maine, airport. Even with the excess body heat available, it was still chilly as they entered the airport. He withstood the jostle and bustle as the group moved to the lounge where they all waited for their luggage. He had packed for a long stay in a cold climate, which meant that he had four bags to watch for.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ezra Standish left the airport in an SUV, directions in hand. He had called in a few favors and was going to take up residence in a very secluded cabin, for as long as he wished. He had made arrangements for the road from the highway to the cabin to be cleared that morning, although he hoped the next snow would come soon and cover it once more. He realized that it was tinged with paranoia, but he didn't want any sign of his whereabouts visible to anyone. Especially the man he was running from. Prior to his arrival there, however, he would stop for enough provisions to last at least a month. Although he had left things open with AD Travis, his internal clock seemed set to go off in a month. At that time he would have a decision; stay in the ATF, taking a position in one of the other offices, or leaving the ATF all together. Either way meant the end of his association with the group that had become known as The Magnificent Seven.

He would never see his brothers in arms again.

~o~

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Chris asked quietly of the man standing beside him.

"I told you, Chris, it's fine. About damn time we celebrated Christmas. I mean, hell, it's January already!" Buck replied with forced happiness.

His old friend's tone didn't convince him at all, but the blond didn't press it. Instead, he clasped a hand over Wilmington's shoulder and said, "All right, then, let's get this party started," before moving away, toward the other side of the den.

While some of the men had celebrated Christmas in other ways, they had refused to celebrate together until Larabee was on the road to recovery. The disappearance of Ezra almost two weeks before had nearly ended any hope of group celebration at all, but Buck had insisted that they continue with their plans. Silently, each man despaired that they would ever celebrate together if they awaited Ezra's return.

Six men, three women and one child were gathered at the Larabee-Tanner ranch to celebrate being together. Nathan and Raine were busy herding their son, Nathanial, keeping the rambunctious toddler from crawling off and opening all the gifts beneath the tree. Casey and JD were off to the side, giggling and whispering about things only they understood. Inez had come along as Josiah's guest; their way of thanking her for all of her help through the last couple months.

Chris and Vin, still rebuilding their relationship, were sitting together; Chris seated in his recliner and Vin perched on the arm. Tanner's arm was stretched across the back of the chair and the younger man was the image of relaxed contentment. Beside him, Larabee was slouched in the seat, at ease with the other man's proximity. Although the others didn't say it out loud, they could only think of one better gift than the sight of the two men together. To complete the scene, they all wished that Ezra Standish was there with them, as well.

Josiah left his spot near the fireplace and moved to where the stereo system sat. He was playing DJ, and it was time for Christmas music. With a large, toothy grin, he stood back as the sounds of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas rang through the big room. With the accompaniment of a giggling Nathanial and the crackling fire, the scene was set for a wonderful day of togetherness.

"So, shall I play Santa?" Josiah asked. When no one objected, which would have seemed foolish since he was wearing a Santa hat and had sleigh bells draped around his neck, the big man moved to the tree and began picking up the gaily wrapped gifts there. "Ah, the first one is to Chris and Vin."

Together the two men accepted the long, heavy gift. Together, too, they peeled away the bright wrapping paper after reading the card. "To Uncle Chris and Uncle Vin, From Nathanial and his Mom and Dad". Together they said, "Thanks, 'Thanial" before revealing a long, polished wooden sign that announced "Welcome to the Larabee-Tanner Home".

"It's beautiful," Chris said, his fingers darting across the etched in letters. At each corner there was a stylized "L/T" made to look like a brand, surrounded by a rope. Looking up, he locked eyes with Vin, somewhat shocked that the other man's eyes were glassy with tears.

Speaking for them both this time, Chris said, "Thank you, this is perfect." It was clear to all gathered that those words were meant to reflect more than the gift they held.

~o~

Throughout the day, the conversations were light and cheerful, but there was an undercurrent of sadness. From time to time one of the others would note that Buck would disappear for a few moments, or distance himself across the room from the gathering. He did it quietly, intent on keeping his feelings of loss to himself. It was a hollow gift, however. Everyone felt some semblance of that same loss.

As the festivities wound down, the others began to make ready to leave. JD and Casey slipped out first, announcing to anyone who was listening that they were going out of town for the rest of the weekend to ski with friends. Next came Nathan and his family, Nathanial already having drifted off for the night. He was a boneless bundle in Chris' arms; he insisted on putting on the child's snowsuit and carrying his nephew to the car. Then, after Buck and Josiah had finished helping with clean up, Buck informed his friends, "I'm gonna take a couple weeks off... goin' out to LA to meet up with Kerry."

"Is she back in the states?" Vin asked, smiling. Buck's desires, both emotional and carnal, were broad and seemingly unquenchable.

"Yeah, long lay over. I promised I'd come out to see her while she's here. Then... well, just thought I'd kick around for a while."

"You need anything..." Chris started.

"Yeah, I know. You're on speed dial." Mustering up a smile, the big man saluted the others and left the house.

Heaving a sigh, Larabee said, "I wish there was a way to make this right."

Coming up behind his partner, wrapping his arms around the slender waist and leaning into him, Vin said, "I know... but there ain't a damn thing we can do."

"Yeah, I know."

Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Josiah said, "Time heals, my friends. Hopefully with time, both of them will return to the fold."

"I hope so, Preacher, I hope so." Chris leaned back against the other man, finding comfort in that embrace.

Smiling at the sight of his two friends once more seeking comfort in one another's arms, Josiah said, "Well, we did have one miracle, who's to say we won't have a second? I'll talk to you later."

"Where are you off to?" Vin asked.

"I promised to chaperone a dance at the center tomorrow night, and I'm in charge of making certain the decorations are up tomorrow afternoon."

"Sounds like a big day."

"Yeah. Say... if the two of you don't have anything to do tomorrow..."

"Uh-uh, sorry," Tanner said with a broad grin. "Think we'll be busy all weekend."

"Oh? Do we have plans?" Chris feigned ignorance, but Josiah could see the twinkle in his finally bright and focused eyes.

"Yeah... we do..." Vin leaned around, kissing one stubbled cheek.

Clearing his throat more loudly this time, Josiah said, "Well, all right then. I'll see you two next week. We're still on for the game, right?"

"You'd better believe it," a still embarrassed Larabee said.

"Okay, good night, boys."

"Night," came twin replies.

Alone at last, Chris turned in his lover's embrace and cupped one square jaw in his hand. "You're just bad, you know that?" His only reply was a kiss. Then, hand in hand, the two men, both finally whole once more, moved toward the master suite.

Epilogue

Chris stood at the window, a single sheet of paper clinched in his hand. He stared out over the late winter cityscape, which was as grey as his thoughts. Team Seven had been back in action for almost a month, although he was still on light duty and they continued to be one man short on the team. It had nearly been two men but, after a lot of soul searching, Buck had remained with them.

They had managed with the loan of an undercover agent from one team or another, Chris insisting that there was no reason to consider replacing Standish. But now; now it was for real. Team Seven would need to bring in another undercover agent on a permanent basis. He looked at the paper; the letter, once again.

	14 January 2007 Chris, It is with a heavy heart that I write this, but know that it is time. I have given this a great deal of thought: have weighed my options and know that this is right. As you may have heard from Assistant Director Travis, I have decided to leave the team, Denver, and the Bureau. I will, of course, miss the camaraderie that I have enjoyed as a member of the team; the Magnificent Seven. It has been my great pleasure to be a part of the team and, it is my fondest hope that my association will bring fond memories for the rest of you. I wish only the best for each of you, and trust that, after some time has passed, we will meet once again as friends. On a personal note, I understand your amnesia has begun to abate, and that you and Vin have resumed your own, special, partnership. This is wonderful news, and I wish you both many years of happiness together. With warmest regards,

With a sigh Chris moved over to the blind-covered glass wall that faced the open area where the others worked. Pulling back one of the vertical slats, he looked out into the 'bullpen'. Vin was hard at work at his computer, although he seemed to be playing one of the games JD had downloaded. Although it was Bureau policy that work computers were for work only, the two youngest Agents on the team had managed to convince him that the games were pertinent. As the games required dexterity and strategic planning, they reasoned, it could very well keep their talents sharp. He didn't know how they had managed to get around the fact that only those with administrative clearance were able to download any new programs. He felt that, in this case, that ignorance was bliss.

Pulling himself away from his mental distraction, he noted that Josiah, Nathan and JD were deeply absorbed in a conversation. He wondered whether the topic was the case they were working on, or the game they had gathered to watch at the Ranch last night. A smile pulled one corner of his mouth upward as he watch JD, increasingly animated, argue his point.

The last member of the team he was observing was, of course, his oldest and dearest friend.

Buck had rearranged his desk in such a way that it offered a silent request for distance. He was sitting at the desk, his posture nearly rigid as he typed something into the computer, paused, clicked a few more keys, and then slumped in defeat. He was wearing ear buds that were plugged into an IPod. JD had confided in him that he had downloaded the music, and it was all what he referred to as "Emo".

Never one to ignore duty, Chris took the proverbial bull by the horns, and stepped out of his office. Catching four pairs of eyes, he announced, "Conference room, now." Canting his head toward Wilmington he added, "Someone invite Buck."

~o~

"Buck?" The Saloon was quiet. It was too early for the party crowd and too late for the lunch time crowd. Josiah stood near the table where his co-worker and friend sat, slumped in a chair. Moving into the other man's line of sight, he waited for re-rimmed eyes to focus in his direction. "Mind if I join you?"

"Long as you don't want to talk." He growled the last word.

Settling onto the chair across from his friend, Sanchez replied, "Actually I thought maybe you'd like to talk."

"Well, you were wrong."

"All right." Shrugging, the big man motioned to Inez, asking for a beer. The two men sat silently, even after she brought the bottle along with a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa. The only sound was that of Josiah crunching the salsa loaded chips. After nearly a half hour of silence, Josiah walked over to the bar, retrieved the newspaper lying there, and brought it back to the table. Pushing a second chair out he propped his legs up on it, leaned back in his chair, and proceeded to read the front page. All the while he was dipping chips and sipping beer.

Buck finally leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "You planning on sitting there all evening?"

Looking over the edge of the paper, Sanchez responded with a non-committal "Hadn't thought about it."

"God damn it!" The angry brunet growled, hitting the table with his fist hard enough to bounce the chip basket and nearly tip the beer bottles over. The only response he got was a Larabee-worthy glare from the Saloon manager. "Why the hell can't you all be like any normal bunch of friends? Don't you get it? I'm the reason Ezra left. Why the hell aren't you trying harder to get him back? Why the hell aren't you angry with me? Hell, why are you even giving a damn about me? This is my fault. Period."

Setting the paper aside, Josiah studied the other man for a moment before replying. "Don't get me wrong, Buck. We've discussed this more than once, both before we found Vin and Chris and since they've come home. There's not one of us that condones what you did and, frankly, at one time or another almost every one of us has wanted you and Ezra to trade places; have him here and you gone. But, frankly, none of us could punish you more than you've punished yourself.

"We've attempted to locate Ezra... even looked for some of his aliases on any passenger manifest: train, plane, charter, private and public... we even looked into every vehicle that was rented long term. We've checked his bank accounts and, other than one very large withdrawal the day before he left, there's nothing."

"And nobody thought to share any of this with me." It was a statement delivered in a sullen tone of voice.

"We didn't want you to get your hopes up... or go off half-cocked on some goose chase."

Buck snorted; an ironic grin flashing briefly before he became somber again. "I guess that was a good call."

"Your friends know you, maybe better than you do. But we know that you'd take everything that happened back if you could. We know that, that Buck was hurting, angry and out of control - "

"NO! I wasn't out of control. I was hurting and I was angry, but I knew what I was doing! You don't get it, Josiah... none of you get it. I all but raped the person that is more important to me than life. I. Forced. Myself. On. Him."

"Buck... tell me what happened."

Wilmington's jaw dropped, "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. You've said this several times. What exactly happened that night... the night Ezra came over to check on you."

Slowly, stumbling over his words from time to time as he recounted all that he remembered of that night. Tears washed over his face, skirting around his mustache and dripping from his chin to soak his shirt. Through the entire ordeal, Josiah sat by quietly, offering neither support nor condemnation. He was nothing more than a warm body and a sounding board. He was what Buck needed right then.

Buck surprised himself at just how little time it took him to recount that fateful night. Scrubbing one final time at his swollen eyes, he finished with, "I've tried, Josiah. I've tried to talk to him, to find some way to make it up to him. But... there's just nothing I can do."

Heaving a sigh, Sanchez said, "Buck, what you did was horrible, I agree. But it wasn't as if you held him down, drugged or retrained him. Or are you keeping something from us?"

Frowning, Wilmington said, "No... that's everything I remember."

"Then Ezra could have conceivably stopped you?"

"I... I guess so," broad shoulders shrugged.

"Then what was it, specifically, that Ezra blamed you for?"

"The only thing I have ever expected from you is respect. What you have shown me since last night is the antithesis of respect. I came here to comfort a friend and I stayed because I thought that friend needed me. I did not come here to be your tool."

The words burned through Buck's mind. As the words tumbled over and over through his memory, he whispered, "respect. Josiah, I hurt him worse than any of us could imagine. I treated him like a... a tool. That's what he said... I treated him like a tool. There's nothing worse than that... not to Ezra. How do I make up for that?"

Josiah studied the question for a while before offering up an unsatisfactory, "I don't know."

Another snort and then, "Yeah, me either."

Leaning forward, the older man said, "But one thing I do know, my friend. You need to make peace with what happened. Put it in perspective and realize that punishing yourself isn't going to help anything."

"Yeah..." Wilmington trailed off and he slumped back in the seat once more.

"You want a ride home?"

Shaking his head, Buck said, "No, I'm gonna stay for a while."

Pushing himself to his feet, dropping some bills on the table, Sanchez said, "All right. Call me if you need me. Otherwise I'll see you later."

"Thanks, Josiah," Wilmington said reassuringly. Then, as the other man walked away, he added softly, "Thanks for being a friend."

~o~

Chris placed the phone back on its base before settling back against his partner. "That was Josiah."

"Gathered that. He find Bucklin?" Vin idly stroked his fingers across Larabee's chest. They were curled up together on the couch, enjoying the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. He was still in awe of the fact that they had been able to return to the life they had built over the last two years. He had despaired of ever having that again. Now if they could only help Buck and Ezra find that happiness.

"Yeah, he was at the Saloon. Inez has his keys, so Josiah asked her to call him when Buck was ready to leave. He asked Buck to, but that doesn't seem likely."

"Probably not."

"I wish there was more we could do."

"Yeah, me, too."

The two men grew quiet then, savoring the feel of lying there, together. They savored the feel of being loved completely once more. Beyond the walls of their home there was a storm... but for now they were safe, warm and content.

The End

April 27, 2009

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