MAIN CHARACTERS: Chris/Vin

Editors' Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Seven Card Stud #13, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Seven Card Stud that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Michelle Fortado, Erica Michaels and Lorin Zane are the primary authors of this story, they had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Dori Adams, Sierra Chaves, Dana Ely, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Dani Martin, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 7-22-2008. Art by Shiloh

Authors' Note: This story started off as the gen fic "A Matter of Heart," written by Michelle Fortado and Erica Michaels. It was originally published in Let's Ride #10. Mickey and Erica kindly handed their baby off to me to slash. Thank you, ladies!

The thundering chaos overtook him, sweeping him into a maelstrom of stinging ice that assaulted the exposed areas on his face and neck, and tight pressure that squeezed his chest and sucked hungrily at his legs. Unending somersaults nearly stripped away his reason.

Shit. Avalanche, Chris realized in a burst of raw panic that set his chest on fire and threatened to steal away what little air he had left in his lungs. Groping frantically in the kaleidoscope of light and shadows, hands fumbling for the small, hard plastic handle to the rip cord on his vest, the ATF agent prayed for the first time in years.

His fingers closed over the hard, cold handle and he pulled with all the strength he had. The air bladders immediately inflated, causing his vest to swell, pushing it up alongside his neck, catching painfully under his ears, but it increased his buoyancy and he could feel himself rising.

His lungs were burning, demanding oxygen.

Chris wasn't actually sure the safety device had worked until he was mindlessly gulping in two deep breaths of cold air before feeling himself being pulled back under again. He kicked, trying to break free of the undertow.

Something large struck him hard across his shoulders and he grunted, instinct forcing him to draw into a ball. A moment later, something else glanced painfully off his right leg.

He surfaced again, gulped more of the precious air, his arms flailing this time as he tried to keep himself on the surface of the still-moving snow, but the roiling mass of ice and debris pushed him down for a third time, like a surfer trapped under a breaking curl. But he was moving slower, or at least he thought he was.

Rocks and chunks of broken, uprooted trees pounded him like a hail of angry fists, but he concentrated on scissoring his legs, trying to propel himself to the surface again, while his arms curled around his head to keep himself from being knocked unconscious.

A flash of sunlight told him he was free of the suffocating tumble and he struggled as best he could, gasping for as many breaths as he could draw before he was rolled under once again. And he was.

He curled back into a ball, his arms over his head once more, and continued to pray, something he thought he'd stopped doing, believing in, years ago. Well, they said there were no atheists in foxholes, and now he knew why.

Then there was silence, as profound and complete as any he'd ever imagined. He opened his eyes, but there was nothing to see beyond unending white. He sucked in a sharp, shallow breath, realizing that, with his arms over his head, he had inadvertently created an air pocket for himself.

Thank you, Lord, he silently acknowledged.

Thoroughly disorientated, Larabee forced himself to take several more breaths while he begged his mind to start working again. The panic slowly subsided, replaced by a determined will to survive.

Okay, I'm alive. I have to stay that way until they can find me… Which way am I facing? he asked himself.

Only one way to find out…

He chewed on the inside of his cheek until his fear-dry mouth finally began to water, then let the spit dribble over his lips, waiting as it ran down his chin, then along his jaw toward his ear.

Okay, I'm almost laying on my back, he noted, the thought helping to ease the vertigo that threatened to turn his stomach.

He closed his eyes and imagined his situation. He was almost lying on his back, his knees bent like he'd been caught in the middle of a sit-up. His fingers were still laced behind his head, his forearms pressed alongside his ears, making the sit-up image even stronger.

And he was buried under who-knew-how-much snow.

Buried alive… for the moment.

The panic flared again, but he forced it back by thrusting out angrily with his legs. His feet sank a little deeper into the compressed snow, but not much. He tried forcing his arms up, but they were trapped as well.

"Hey!" he cried as loudly as he could, but his cramped position made it impossible to actually yell. "Hey! Can anyone hear me?"

He waited, listening, but the rapid beat of his heart was the only thing he could hear. He let out the breath he was holding and sucked in another, knowing the small air pocket couldn't sustain him for very long.

He started to claw with his glove-covered fingers, digging shallow furrows into the packed snow above his head. If he could get at least one of his arms free, he could reach the tube on his vest and use the air in the inflated bladders to keep himself alive a little longer.

Long enough for his team to find him?

Hopefully… If they hadn't been buried right along with him, he realized. Shit…

Had they been caught in the avalanche? He tried to remember, but he couldn't recall anything to say that they had, or hadn't. He immediately thought about Vin – his sniper, his best friend, his lover of four-and-a-half months. Was Vin all right? He prayed the man was, but knew he'd be in a panic.

Chris closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down… to breathe slowly… to relax. But his fingers continued to scratch away at the snow that trapped his arms.

He looked down and saw the beacon he was wearing, one of the many pieces of equipment Nathan had insisted they all take, along with the vests, poles, collapsible shovels, and space blankets. If the rest of his team was alive, they might be able to find him using the beacon. But could they do it in time?

Vin would find him. If he was alive, he would find him. He believed that as strongly as he believed the sun would rise again tomorrow. He had to believe that…

Too soon to worry about that, he told himself, realizing his thoughts remained scattered.

How'd I get here? he finally asked himself, hoping it might focus his mind. He needed to focus.

Slowly, memories began to return…

9 January 1999

4:45 p.m.

Larabee looked at each of his team members, making sure they understood the details of their latest mission. Daniel and Emily Phelps, and their two children, had disappeared from their home six days ago, right after a spate of arson fires. Two local gay bars had been burned down, along with an AIDS hospice and a United Church of Christ building, one where a rally in support of civil unions had been held the day before the fire. Several people had been injured in the fires, and three at the hospice had died, including a firefighter who had fallen through the roof while fighting the blaze.

The arson investigation had led the local authorities to Daniel and his two brothers, Jacob and Isaiah Phelps. A search of the three men's homes had turned up simple bomb-making materials and photographs of gay-oriented and owned-businesses, sympathetic churches and several private homes ranging from Fort Collins to Castle Rock along the Front Range.

The wives of Jacob and Isaiah apparently had had no idea what their husbands had gotten involved with, and they had insisted the same was true of Emily. They had also told authorities that the three brothers had taken up with some men they had met in Estes Park while attending a gun show. Since then, all three brothers had begun buying guns and ammunition, especially Daniel. If Emily and the children were missing, then, the women had insisted, they were being held against their will.

At that point, the case had been handed over to the ATF.

"How are we gettin' in?" Vin asked, studying the map of the area where Daniel Phelps owned a cabin.

Chris hesitated a moment, knowing his team wasn't going to be overly happy with his answer, but then he said, "We'll be hiking in."

"Hiking? At this time of year?" Ezra questioned, his green eyes rounding with surprise.

"We've all had cold-weather training," Chris responded, leveling a half-hearted glare on the undercover man. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the frozen hike, either.

"But it's January," Ezra offered, looking more than a little concerned.

"There's no other way to reach the cabin. Snowshoes, skis, or snowmobiles are the only way, and the last one's too noisy," Larabee said matter-of-factly. "We'll go as far as skis can take us and hike the rest of the way on snowshoe." He waited to see if there were any other objections, and when there were none, he nodded. "All right, I'll see all of you back here first thing tomorrow morning. Have your gear ready to go and be dressed for the cold. I want to hit the ground running. We have no idea why Phelps took his wife and kids up to that cabin, or what he might be planning." Given what Sally and Wendy Phelps had told detectives, Daniel might be planning to kill his family, and then himself. Emily had called Sally after Jacob and Isaiah were arrested, concerned about her husband's mood and his reaction to the news reports on his brothers' capture.

The agents stood and headed off, a few grumbles drifting back to Chris, but he wasn't worried. His team knew what was expected of them, and they would come through, just like they always did.

Vin held back, grinning at him after the others had gone.

"What?" he questioned, a little wary of the man's expression.

"Nothin'," Vin replied, "just thinkin' about all the ways y' could keep me warm."

Chris felt himself blush under the hungry look the sniper was shooting him. "Behave yourself," he half-growled at the man.

The grin returned. "Thought y' liked it when I was bein' bad…"

He shook his head. The man was simply incorrigible. "I'll show you bad," he muttered under his breath. "Just as soon as we get home."

And he had, too…

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

He saw the hungry look in Vin's eyes as they sat, eating dinner, and for the rest of the evening, the sniper had simply thrummed with just-contained desire. So, when Chris walked into their bedroom to see Vin dressed in one of his old flannel nightshirts, like he was just going to ignore all that lead-up and go to bed, the blond kind of lost control.

Stalking up behind Vin as he was bent over the bathroom sink, spitting out toothpaste, Chris reached down and grabbed the nightshirt, yanking it up over the man's ass as he crowded up against Vin, making it impossible for him to escape easily.

Tanner spat and looked up and over his shoulder as he slipped his toothbrush into the holder and turned off the water. "Chris?" he asked.

Larabee flashed the younger man a hungry, predatory grin, then reached down and grabbed Vin's balls.

"Ah," Tanner responded, leaning farther over the counter, his legs opening wider.

Chris humped against the younger man's hip, rubbing his rapidly filling cock against Vin's muscular flank as he continued to squeeze and pull on the man's balls.

Vin moaned softly, his hands braced against the countertop.

"This what you want?" Chris asked quietly, leaning over the sniper's back, his hand shifting to the man's ass, kneading and squeezing one cheek and then the other.

Larabee smiled, reaching down with his free hand to push his sweatpants down and free his cock. Then, taking a step to one side, he poked Vin's crack with his cock as he reached down and pulled the man's cheeks open, exposing the tight pucker inside. Using his hips, Chris lined the tip of his cock head with that inviting hole and pressed the leaking tip to it, smearing precome over it.

Vin groaned and pressed back against the teasing cock head.

Chris nudged the opening, then let his cock fill Vin's crack as his hands shifted, rubbing up the man's ribs and slipping around to tease at his nipples.

Vin's head jerked back and his right hand began to move, headed, Chris knew, for his swelling cock.

"Don't touch it," he growled into Tanner's ear, one of his own hands reaching out for the bottle of lotion that was sitting on the countertop. He depressed it once, catching the curl of white ointment on his fingertips. He used his thumb to rub it over his index and middle fingers, then reached out and depressed it again, catching more that he reached down and rubbed into the crack of Vin's ass.

Vin grunted, his breathing picking up speed as his eyes dropped closed.

Chris continued to pinch, pull and press one of Vin's nipples while he rubbed the lotion over that tight pucker, then slipped his index finger into the tight, hot passage.

Vin's back arched and his head jerked back. He opened his legs farther.

After slowly pressing his finger in all the way, Chris began to twist it to the left and then the right, while pulling it out and pressing it back in, slowly, at the same time. The treatment quickly had Vin grunting and whining, his hips pressing back, begging the blond for more.

Chris obliged, pulling his finger out and then pressing it back in, along with his middle finger.

Vin came up onto his toes, leaning farther over the counter and reaching again for his cock.

"Nope," Chris told him.

Vin whimpered. "Chris," he whined.

"Not going to let you touch it, not until I'm ready for you to."

"Chris…" he whined again.

Larabee began to plunge his fingers in and out of Vin's ass in short, hard thrusts that had the younger man whimpering and moaning with rapidly growing need.

"Chris," he grunted, trying to drive his hips back with every penetration.

"Mmm," the blond breathed into the younger man's ear. "That's going to be me soon."

"Chris… now, please…" Vin begged.

Wrapping his arm around Vin's chest, Chris jerked him upright, the fingers of his other hand still buried deep in the man's ass. Tanner squirmed and jerked, wanting to bend forward again, but Larabee didn't let him.

Then, pulling his fingers free, he manhandled Vin into the bedroom, shoving him onto the bed, belly down, and climbing on right behind him, his knee shoved between Vin's thighs to make sure Tanner's legs didn't close. Then, reaching down, he grabbed the hem of the nightshirt and jerked it up over Vin's ass again.

Wedging his other knee between Vin's legs, he leaned over the man's back and reached for the tube of KY that was lying on one of the shelves in the headboard. Unthreading the cap, he squeezed out a good amount and quickly spread it over his leaking cock.

Larabee had plans for Tanner, but he knew he needed a quick release so he could torment the man the way he wanted to.

When he was slicked, the blond reached over and grabbed a hand towel from another shelf, using it to wipe off his hand. Tossing the cloth back onto the shelf, he reached down and jerked Vin's hips up.

Tanner obligingly lifted his ass, his legs sliding open wider, his hands above his head, fingers sunk into the pillows.

"That's right," Chris purred, using his thumbs to pull the ass cheeks open wider. Not that he needed to, but he loved the way it made the man's asshole open slightly for him. He bent over and blew on it, making Vin squeal.

Then, before Tanner could beg him to do something, Chris reached down, grabbed his cock and pressed it against the inviting hole. A moment later he had penetrated the man, sliding in a third of the way on one powerful thrust.

"Aaah," Vin cried, hips driving up and back, forcing Chris in a little deeper. His head and shoulders came up off the bed and he rocked forward and back, impaling himself on Larabee's cock.

"This what you want?" Chris asked, thrusting his hips forward and burying himself inside the man.

"Chris!" Vin howled as the blond held himself where he was, but humped against Tanner's ass as he came for the first time.

"Soon," Larabee told him airily, when he was finished. He slowly pulled out until just the head of his still mostly-hard cock remained inside the man. He thrust shallowly, driving in a couple of inches, then pulling almost out again.

"Chris, please," Vin moaned.

"Soon, babe, soon…"

"Chris, please…"

Larabee smiled as the man's begging had the effect he knew it would, making him hard enough again that he didn't slip free of the sniper's ass. He reached down and gave Vin's ass a quick, stinging slap and felt the man's muscles clench around him, exciting him further. He gave the other cheek a slap as well.

Then, humping up with his hips, he prompted Vin to lift his ass even higher, the younger man actually pushing up so he was on his knees, his chest still pressed against the bed.

Larabee licked his lips as he slipped his hand around the man's hip and closed his fingers around the turgid shaft he found there, rigid against Vin's belly.

"Oh, God!" Tanner gasped, trying to slide his cock through Chris' hand while he simultaneously forced the older man's cock deeper into his ass. "Chris!"

The blond reached down and carefully squeezed the base of Vin's cock, stopping his impending orgasm.

The younger man wailed.

The sound brought Larabee back to full hardness and he sank into Vin's ass until he was buried as deep as he could get. He began to move his hand, his fingers gliding over the other man's cock shaft, squeezing the swelled head, his thumb rubbing over the spongy tip.

"Oh God, oh God," Vin breathed, his body beginning to shake.

Chris grinned, shifting his hips and then pulling his cock out just far enough so its head scraped over Tanner's sweet spot.

"Ah! There! Chris!"

He rode back in deep, striking it again.

"Oh God!" Vin gasped, Larabee's hand setting his cock on fire. "Chris!"

"Give it to me," Larabee growled at his lover, his hand squeezing, his hips pulling back again to ride over Vin's prostate. When he pushed back into the man, striking the gland again, Vin began to shake all over.

And, a moment later, Tanner was coming, shooting into Larabee's hand while the muscles in his ass went wild around the blond's cock.

Larabee threw back his head, losing himself in the sensations Vin's ass muscles set off in his cock and balls, but he wasn't ready to come again himself – not yet – but, damn, it was close.

When he made Tanner wait, like he had tonight, Vin came and came and came, the wild dance of the muscle spasms driving Larabee right to the brink, but he stuck to his plan.

When Vin's hips finally stopped jerking, Larabee grabbed them, keeping them where they were while the younger man panted, trying to catch his breath.

Chris reached up, gently stroking the man's sweaty back and petting his ass and shoulders. His own cock remained full and ready, because he knew what he still planned to do.

Vin's head dipped and, slowly, his breathing began coming back to something closer to normal. And, as it did, the sniper began to rock his hips again, his ass still filled by Larabee's cock.

It was the signal Chris had been waiting for. His touch shifted and he scratched down the man's back, squeezed Vin's ass and then reached around to play with his nipples.

"Mmm," Vin sighed, hips rocking a little faster.

Shifting the focus of his attack, Chris reached down, stroking the insides of Vin's thighs until the man was humping back harder and his cock was starting to swell again.

Then, without warning, he pulled out.

Vin gasped and yelped, "Chris!"

"On your back," Larabee told him, moving away so Vin could turn over, which he did, his legs splayed open in a shameless invitation.

Chris moved right back in, grabbing the lube and applying more before he lifted Vin's legs and, watching the man's face, slowly sank back inside of him.

Vin's eyes were clenched tight, but not from pain, and his back arched, but it was the reaction of the man's cock that Larabee loved to watch. The shaft swelled rapidly, the length of it bobbing repeatedly against Tanner's belly as his ass was filled.

Once the blond was buried inside the man again, he shifted his grip on Vin's legs, forcing him farther onto his back and shoulders, then began to ride into him, striking his gland over and over again.

Tanner cried out, his back arching up as far as he could manage, his head thrashing from side to side, his cock beginning to leak onto his belly. Then his blue eyes popped open, his gaze locking onto Larabee's just as the older man had known it would.

Chris' hips picked up speed, his thrusts getting stronger as he stared into Vin's eyes, which were filled with love and longing.

God, he never got over that look.

And, as usual, it was that look that pushed Chris over the edge for the second time. He pierced Vin one last time, then threw back his head and felt his orgasm break free. He growled and ground himself against Vin's ass, his balls emptying in long bursts of come that filled the man's ass.

Without conscious thought, he grabbed Tanner's cock and started to jerk.

Feeling Chris shooting into him, seeing the man's release, feeling the man's hand on him, was all it took to send Vin tumbling over the edge himself, but it was the addition of the blond's hand on his cock that sent him tumbling over faster than usual. He jerked and shook, then began pumping his own seed into Larabee's hand, the thick ropes falling onto his own chest and belly as well.

Chris stilled his hips and he slumped back on his heels, sweat rolling down his body. He carefully pulled out of Vin's ass and lowered the sniper's legs.

His hand shaking, Larabee reached over and dragged the hand towel off the shelf and used it to wipe his face, then Vin's belly, grinning down at the man as he did.

Vin grinned, too, asking, "What?"

Larabee knew he'd regret it, but he replied, "One of these days, you're going to kill me."

Vin's grin widened. "But what a way to go, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Larabee agreed. "Come on, let's get this bedspread off and get some sleep."

"Better clean up first," Vin told him.

Larabee nodded and, together, they pulled off the bedspread, tossing it into the large basket to be washed later.

They took a quick shower and then went back to bed, this time climbing in under the covers and curling up together.

"You not going to be too sore tomorrow, are you?" Chris asked, realizing too late that Tanner might not appreciate this when they were in the mountains the next day.

"Mmm, more like just right," Vin murmured as he drifted off to sleep.

Chris smiled and kissed the back of Tanner's shoulder, then slipped off as well…

10 January 1999

5:00 a.m.

Chris walked into the basement staging area of the federal building, carrying his gear. He dropped his duffel bag down next to the six others already lined up near the loading dock entrance, then headed over to get a cup of coffee and a PowerBar.

The others were already scattered around the space, going over their weapons and other gear, munching on protein bars of their own and washing them down with the strong, hot coffee.

Nathan approached him, handing him a beacon and saying, "New locators, just in case."

Larabee nodded, accepting the device. Nathan had taken it upon himself to become their official "mother hen," and he was exceptionally diligent in his job. Luckily for him, that suited Larabee just fine, given the fact that the majority of his team seemed to excel at attracting trouble – Vin in particular.

His gaze swept over the men, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. A few more days, and they would be celebrating their one-year anniversary as a team. Well, all of them except Vin, who had joined them a month later than the others. Still, it would be their official anniversary, and he planned to host the mother of all parties out at the ranch to celebrate.

He knew he had picked well. They were good men, and a great team. He was proud of them, each and every one. But Vin had become so much more than a teammate, a friend… Vin had become the other half of his soul, just like Sarah had.

He still didn't understand it, but he was grateful for it.

A smile appeared on his face when he saw Vin wince slightly as he took a seat on a cement step. So, his lover was a little sore… Well, so was he! But in his case, it was a good ache in his legs, an ache he knew the upcoming hike would cure.

He recalled again the look on Vin's face as he'd taken him last night and felt his cock twitch in response. Damn… the man was going to be the death of him one day!

He cut off that line of thought and forced his mind back to the job at hand…

Rocky Mountains

9:45 a.m.

Team Seven stood on the covered wooden porch of a high mountain ranger station, admiring the view that stretched out before them. The jagged mountain peaks, some reaching 13,000 and 14,000 feet above sea-level, were covered with snow. Thick stands of pine, growing at lower elevations, created green skirts below the otherwise pristine white peaks. Clear blue sky overhead made the morning bright, and they all wore sunglasses to protect their eyes from the sparkle of sunlight glinting off the powder on the ground.

Nathan moved from agent to agent, securing a vest over their jackets and handing out more equipment, taking his time to describe each item's use, and its limitations.

When they were done, the older ranger, Brad Clarke, stepped up. "Here's a map. The cabin you're looking for is marked. Be careful, people, you're going to be moving through terrain that borders on a recreational wilderness area. You might run into back-country skiers, snowboarders, or snowshoers out there. We'd appreciate it if you didn't kill any of our tourists – it's bad for business."

Chris grinned and nodded. "I can just imagine. We'll do our best." He glanced down at the map. "Where can we get a lift out?"

Clarke stepped closer and peered over Chris' shoulder at the map. He reached out and tapped a spot. "That's about the only location a chopper's going to be able to get in low enough to pull someone out. But even that's going to depend on good ol' Mother Nature. The weather service is calling for another storm to arrive in thirty-six hours or so, so you'd better make it quick. Given where you'll be, that'll be more like twenty-eight or thirty hours."

"Shouldn't take us that long," Chris assured the man.

"There'll be someone manning the radio here twenty-four/seven," the younger ranger assured them, his gaze still sweeping nervously over the weapons they all carried. "When you need a lift, you just let us know. A Search and Rescue bird should be able to reach you in twenty-five minutes or so. And you shouldn't have any trouble contacting us from that pickup location, but if you end up down in a canyon, you'll probably have to climb out to get a clear signal."

"We appreciate the help," Chris told the two men.

"Glad to be of service," Clarke said, extending his hand to Chris, who shook it. "Damned good to see you again, Larabee."

"Likewise," Chris replied, slapping the ranger's shoulder.

"Why don't you try and get back up here next season for some elk hunting? I'd be happy to show you around."

Chris nodded. "I'd like that, Brad. You have my number now; give me a call and I'll see what I can do."

The former DPD officer nodded, his gaze sweeping over the others to include them as well. "You're all welcome."

"All right," Chris said, "let's get this show on the road."

"Hey, Chris," Clarke said, "one more thing. If you stay on the route I marked, you should be fine, but if you have to wing it, be sure you stay off any inclines greater than thirty-five degrees. We got a few warm days up here in mid-December and the avalanche danger is high right now, with all that fresh powder last week."

"Will do," Chris assured his old friend, and gestured for the team to head out.

The two rangers watched the agents on their cross-country skis until they disappeared into the pines. The forest service hiking trail they were using would take them to within a mile or so of the target cabin. From there, Larabee's team would have to make their way in on the trail the cabin owner had built to access the state-maintained trail, or they would have to veer off, moving through a quarter-mile of wilderness to reach the fire road that would take them to within a hundred yards of the cabin. In either case, it was going to be some rough snowshoeing.

Clarke shook his head, feeling the old familiar buzz in his gut, and he wished – not for the first time that morning – he was going with them.

"Hey, Brad, who are those guys?" Tim Andrews asked him.

The older man grinned and snorted. "Them? Heard they're calling them the 'Magnificent Seven'," he told the younger man. "And I believe it." Clarke turned and walked back into the building, determined to man the radio himself until he heard from his old friend.

In the Rockies

10 January 1999

1:20 p.m.

Even using the government trail, the going was slow. The skis made the trek possible, but they encountered frequent snowdrifts and occasional downed trees blocking their path. And it wasn't long before they were all breathing heavily from the high altitude and the hard work. Chris checked his watch regularly, watching as the precious daylight hours quickly passed.

We have to be getting close to the turnoff, he thought a split second before he heard Vin say, "Chris, this is it."

The blond looked up, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. It looked exactly the same as what they had been hiking through. "You sure?"

"GPS says the trail leadin' t' the cabin should be right here," Tanner replied, nodding at the snow and trees.

"Phelps must not have kept it up very well," Buck offered.

Chris sighed. "We only have about three hours of good light left. We can either head out for the cabin, or backtrack and use the fire road. Suggestions?"

"We hump it in," the sniper offered with a shrug. "Gives us the most daylight to work with."

The others nodded. They might be tired, but they were a long way from done in.

"Okay," Chris agreed.

The men quickly exchanged their skis for snowshoes.

"I'll take point," Chris announced when they were all ready to go. "Vin, find someplace to watch our six – we don't know if Phelps has any friends up here with him. He might have someone out watching the trail."

Tanner nodded.

Chris checked his watch again. "Okay, we rest for ten, then move out…"

Outside the Phelps Cabin

2:50 p.m.

Chris lay on the snow, hidden in the shadows of a large spruce, as he carefully surveyed the quiet cabin with his field glasses. Now and then he could see movement inside the structure, but the thick curtains made it impossible to determine exactly how many people might be inside. The most up-to-date satellite intel had put the number of tangos at seven – four male adults, one woman, and two children – but there was no way to know if anyone else had joined them, or if they were all still in the cabin.

Larabee knew without looking that his six team members were all in place and ready to move as soon as he gave them the word, but he wanted to wait for the sun to drop a little lower in the western sky, behind the ridge rising behind them. As soon as it did, the small canyon would be swallowed by shadows that would help cover their advance. So he waited, continuing to watch the windows on his side of the building.

As soon as the sun disappeared from the sky, Chris spoke into his lip mike, asking, "Anything?"

"All quiet here," Vin replied from the perch he had found.

"Nothing here," Buck said.

"Quiet here as well," Ezra added.

"All right," Chris said, "we go in three… two… one… go."

Six agents moved in on the small cabin from different directions. Chris and Nathan entered through the front door, Buck and Josiah from the back. JD covered the windows on the south side of the cabin. The north side, being a solid wall, was left unmanned. Vin was the last one in, waiting to make sure there were no reinforcements coming to help.

Larabee heard the muted sound of gunfire coming from the rear of the house even as he was moving forward, his gaze sweeping over what was the living room. He immediately headed for the only door he saw, saying into his lip mike, "Right."

Nathan headed left to the hallway.

The two men continued, each checking behind every door they passed.

Larabee reached the last door in the hallway and stood, his back pressed against the wall. He could hear the sound of someone crying, and a woman's voice, begging. He reached out and opened the door, moving inside the room in a crouch.

Inside the bedroom, he found Mrs. Phelps sitting on the bed, a young boy of no more than four or five, and dressed in Sesame Street pajamas, held tightly in her arms. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but they immediately flickered from Chris to an open door in the room.

Larabee was moving before he even realized what it was he had seen in the mirror above the dresser, his HK coming up and firing as a man stepped out of the closet, a Glock in his hands. The man jerked twice, then fell as the woman keened softly, pulling her son's head around so he couldn't see the dead body.

Chris reached the closet door in three long strides. He checked the small space, then the man, who he'd already known was dead.

"Danny's cousin," the woman managed in a whisper.

"How many?"

"Three, maybe four, and Daniel."

"I have Mrs. Phelps and the boy," he announced into his lip mike. "One tango down. Three, maybe four left."

"All clear," Buck announced a moment later. "One down."

"All clear here," Ezra added. "No contact."

"Clear," Josiah announced.

"Clear," Vin said, "one down."

"On your toes, people, we're missing at least one."

Chris turned to go, but the woman reached out, stopping him. "No, please, my daughter's still out there."

He nodded. "I want you to get down in the corner on the other side of the bed and stay there until we come get you. Understand?"

She nodded, hurrying to the space and crouching down so her body would protect her son's.

Larabee slipped from the room, drawing the door closed. The hunt was on. "Double-check the closets. Be careful. Tango has a hostage," Chris said into his lip mike as he reentered the bathroom.

"Another tango down in the living room," Buck announced, but even as the ladies' man said the words, a closet door burst open and another man lunged out, a Browning in one hand. His other arm was wrapped around the waist of a young girl dressed in flannel pajamas. He was using her as a shield.

"Back off!" the man snarled at Wilmington.

Chris heard the woman cry out a moment before she burst through the door into the hallway. "Please, don't hurt my daughter!" she pleaded.

"Get back to your son!" Larabee snarled at her, and fear forced her to comply.

"Put the gun down!" the man barked at Buck.

"I have a shot," Vin's voice stated softly in Larabee's ear.

"Take it," Chris said, watching as Buck carefully set his MP5 down.

"Easy, mister," the ladies' man said, "let me have the little girl."

The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, surprised by Wilmington's apparent surrender. And that was all the time Vin needed. A muted pop sounded, and the man dropped to his knees before pitching forward.

The little girl screamed, her feet kicking wildly as she struggled to free herself from the dead man's grip.

Buck moved forward, Vin slipping past the door a moment later to help him lift the man up so the child could escape. She shot to her feet, but didn't know what to do next. Fear froze her right where she stood.

Vin checked the man, then handed his gun to Buck and knelt down in front of the girl, smiling reassuringly. "It's okay now, sweetheart," he said softly. "You're gonna be just fine."

She stared at him, her blue eyes appearing even larger than normal with all the color drained from her face. The sniper watched the girl's eyes fill with tears as her lower lip began to tremble. A moment later, her entire body was shaking.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the hallway where Chris stood.

Larabee turned his head, calling out, "Mrs. Phelps, it's all right to come out now."

Moments later, the woman burst out of the bedroom again, her son in her arms. She hurried down to where Vin was holding her daughter.

"Who are you?" she asked them, reaching out to caress her daughter's cheek. "Easy, baby," she told the girl.

"We've come to take you home," Josiah assured her as he joined them, then left again when he saw the child in Vin's arms was still shaking.

"Oh, thank God," the woman gasped, her eyes closing for a moment. When they opened again, she asked, "Are they all dead?"

Chris frowned, but he nodded.

"Sally and Wendy and the children?" Mrs. Phelps asked them.

Larabee shook his head. "They're fine. They told the police Daniel had brought you and the kids up here against your will."

"Oh God, Daniel," the woman gulped, squeezing her son a little tighter. "is he—?"

Chris nodded.

"He was acting so crazy…" she whispered. "What did he do?"

"The detectives can explain it all," Chris told her. "Right now, we need to get you and your children out of here."

She nodded.

Josiah returned with a blanket, and Vin wrapped the girl in it and carried her back out into the living room, setting her down next to the fire-warmed hearth. Ezra had moved the sofa so the body would be hidden from view. Her mother followed them, one hand on her daughter's arm, her son cradled close to her chest.

"Hannah?" she asked worriedly.

"It's all right, ma'am," Vin assured her. "She's just a little scared. It'll wear off in a minute or two. Why don't you and your son sit with her for a bit?"

Mrs. Phelps nodded, meeting the sniper's gaze. "Thank you."

Vin nodded, then glanced down at the girl. "Just sorry she had to get caught in the middle of it."

"We're alive," Mrs. Phelps said softly, reaching out to push the hair off her daughter's face. "That's all that matters. We can deal with the rest later."

Chris watched the interaction, then turned to JD. "Call in the chopper. The sooner we get these people out of here, the better."

JD nodded, heading outside to make the call.

Josiah moved over to Mrs. Phelps, then asked, "Do you have any other clothes?"

The woman looked down at her flannel nightgown, then shook her head. "Daniel woke me up in the middle of the night… He said he was going to—" She stopped herself. "I— I don't have anything else."

"All right," Josiah said. "I'm going to go grab a blanket for you and your son."

The boy looked up and smiled. "My name's Joshua," he announced.

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Joshua," the big man replied, shaking hands with the small child.

The boy's eyes began to fill with tears. "I wanna go home now," he said softly.

"I know, sweetheart," his mother said softly. "You're going home very soon, I promise."

"How does a ride in a helicopter sound?" Josiah asked him.

The boy smiled, his eyes brightening. "For real?"

Sanchez nodded, then looked at Mrs. Phelps. "The local Search and Rescue people will fly you to Denver. Your family is waiting for you there."

Emily Phelps' eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she said, reaching out to grab his hand and give it a squeeze.

Nathan stepped up to them, holding two more thick blankets and a pair of boots he had taken off her dead husband. "You might need these," he said, offering Emily the boots.

At first it looked like Mrs. Phelps might refuse, but she nodded and took the shoes, pulling them onto her sock-clad feet while Josiah wrapped Joshua in one of the thermal blankets.

"Are you gonna fly the hello-copper?" the boy asked him.

Josiah grinned. "No, not me. Would you want to learn how to fly a helicopter?"

Joshua smiled. "Yes!"

The profiler looked at Mrs. Phelps, who nodded. "Well," Josiah said to the boy, "why don't you and me go wait for the chopper and I'll give you some pointers."

As Emily watched them go, Chris pulled the boots on. He stepped up to her, saying softly, "Mrs. Phelps, these men, did they have any equipment with them?"

"Yes," she replied. "Luke had a briefcase, or maybe it's a small suitcase, with him. I didn't get that good a look at it. I don't know what they did with it, though."

"Could you take a look around with Nathan, see if you can find it?" Chris asked her.

She glanced anxiously at her daughter, who was still staring at the carpet, tears rolling silently down her too-white cheeks.

"I'll stay with her, ma'am," Vin assured the woman, his gaze catching Chris' for a moment. Not for the first time, Larabee thought the man would make a great father. And, who knows, maybe they would get that opportunity one day, if they were lucky. He'd give just about anything to see Vin with a child of his own.

Emily looked back at Chris and nodded, saying, "All right."

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

While Nathan, Ezra and JD searched the cabin with Mrs. Phelps' help, finding weapons and more ingredients for homemade bombs, Chris checked on the ETA of the chopper.

"About fifteen minutes out," Buck replied. He and Josiah were sitting on an overstuffed sofa out on the porch of the cabin, fielding a string of nonstop questions from the five-year-old boy: Are those real guns? Do you kill lots of people? How did you get here? Are we all going to fly home in the hello-copper?

Chris left them to keep the boy entertained and stepped back inside the cabin. He went to the fireplace and put out the fire. Vin had moved Hannah to the couch and was sitting at one end with the girl in his lap. He'd used a tissue he'd found somewhere to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

"She okay?" Chris asked softly.

Vin nodded. "Will be," he said, giving the little girl a hug. "Just a little scared, right, sweetheart?"

Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly, her cheek pressed securely against the top of his shoulder. The sniper gently patted her back through the thick blanket, then smoothed her long, blonde hair.

"I want Sparky," she said.

"Sparky? Is that your dog?" Vin asked softly, looking up at Chris, who shrugged. He hadn't seen a dog.

She nodded.

"Well, I'll bet he's waitin' for you in Denver."

She shook her head.

"He's not?"

"Daddy shot 'im," she whispered.

Vin patted her back again, his gaze lifting to meet Larabee's once more, but Chris didn't know what to say to the child, either.

"I like horses," she said softly, her grip still tight.

"Horses?" Vin asked her. "I like horses, too. Do you have a horse?"

"Daddy said I have to wait 'til I'm older."

"Oh, I see," Vin told her. And now her father was lying somewhere in the house, dead. "Well, a horse is something worth waitin' for."

"I wanna see my daddy," Hannah added, a tremor in her voice.

"We're gonna take a ride on a helicopter, you and your brother and your mommy."

She let go and pulled back so she could see Vin's face, then asked seriously, "Daddy isn't coming home with us, is he?"

"No, sweetheart, he isn't," Vin told her honestly.

"Did you kill that man?"

The sniper hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded. "Yes, I did. I was afraid he was going to hurt you, and your mother and brother."

"Was he a bad man?"

Vin nodded. "Yes, he was."

"Did you shoot my daddy, too?"

Vin swallowed.

"No, he didn't," Chris told the girl.

She dipped her head. "Daddy said he was going to shoot us… He was a bad man…"

"Maybe your daddy just got confused inside. Sometimes when that happens, grown-ups do things they shouldn't do… Things they know are wrong," Vin told her.

"No matter how confused he was, your daddy still loved you," Chris added, reaching out to run his hand over her hair. "He just forgot how to show you he did for a little while."

"That's right," Vin told her.

She studied the two men as she decided whether or not to believe them. Then, having made her decision, she leaned back against Vin's chest and wrapped her arms around his neck again, but this time her grip wasn't quite as tight.

"What's a helicopter like?" she asked him.

"Well, it can be a little bumpy sometimes, but it's lots of fun," the sniper said, then proceeded to tell her all about the view and how it would feel feel as if she were flying, just like a bird.

Chris shook his head, amazed by the scene. My sniper… who would've thought? he mused. He glanced over as Nathan and Emily returned.

"We have it," Jackson announced, holding up the briefcase.

JD leaned into the room. "Chopper's here."

"Hear that?" Vin asked Hannah. "It's time for that ride."

Holding her, Tanner stood, then wrapped the blanket a little tighter around her and carried her outside. Mrs. Phelps followed him. Chris watched the woman glance at the fallen man and shiver. That family would have some healing to do, but, like she'd said, they were all alive. The rest could wait for another day.

He walked out, watching as the two children were hoisted into the chopper in a gurney basket, two of the Search and Rescue people riding with them. Once they were safely inside the chopper, the basket was lowered so Mrs. Phelps could ride up.

Chris waved and the chopper swung off to the east, headed for Denver.

"Hey!" JD squeaked, waving more frantically. "That's our ride!"

"Nope," Chris said, trying not to grin.

"You don't mean…?" Ezra started, trailing off when he saw Larabee's emerging smile.

"We need to work on our cold-weather skills," Chris told them. "We'll sleep here tonight, deal with the local authorities in the morning, then we're going to hike back out."

"Back to the ranger station?" Vin asked, looking the least concerned of the group.

"I was thinking more along the lines of that ski resort we passed on our way up here," Standish offered with a hopeful arch of his eyebrows.

"Wrong on both counts," Chris replied. "There's an old ski lodge about six miles from here. The army used it back in the Forties when they were training troops on skis for the European Theater. We're headed there."

"You sure it's still there?" Buck asked him, sounding a little worried.

"Brad Clarke said it was," Chris assured them.

"You and your old DPD buddy set this up, didn't you?" Josiah asked him.

"We did," Chris confessed. "Perfect opportunity to get in some practice. So, grab your gear and let's get moving. We don't have much daylight left."

"But you just said we were going to spend the night here," JD said, waving at the cabin.

"I said here, JD, I didn't say in the cabin."

A chorus of groans was the reply.

Rocky Mountains

11 January 1999

1:27 p.m.

Chris lay buried under the snow, wondering briefly if his people would even bother to dig him out after the cold night he'd put them through. It hadn't been easy to stay warm enough to sleep. More than once last night, he'd found himself wishing he had Vin lying beside him. A little shared body warmth would have gone a long way toward making it a more comfortable night, but they weren't ready to let the others in on their relationship. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for that.

He had no idea how he was going to tell Buck he was now sleeping with a man, and one of his coworkers, at that. The ladies' man was going to think he'd gone crazy.

And he was, he knew – crazy in love with a long-haired, skinny, stubborn sniper. He hadn't really believed it himself, but there was just no denying what the man did to him. And thank God, Vin had figured it out and acted on it, because he probably wouldn't have done it, not for a long, long time.

But then, Vin had always seemed to know what it was he needed most…

So he hoped to hell Tanner knew he needed to get the hell out of this freakin' snow pile… now.

After a moment, Chris tried moving again, and this time he was able to work his right arm free. He quickly fumbled for the air tube, pulling it up to his mouth and sucking in a breath of the fresh oxygen. He closed his eyes in grateful thanks.

Breathing as slowly as he could, Chris mentally reviewed what he knew his team would be doing. First, if any of them had escaped the avalanche, they would be using the small locators Nathan had given them to try and find each other. The devices were tuned in to the beacons they all wore. He reached up, making sure that his was still hanging around his neck.

It was.

Once they found a strong beacon signal, he knew they would spread out in a line and use the long, thin, telescoping poles they carried to probe the snow, trying to find where he was buried. And they would find him, he knew they would. His team had never failed him. Vin had never failed him.

Once they found him, they would use the collapsible shovels to dig him out. He would survive…

If they weren't all buried…

If they could find him in time…

Damn those fuckin' idiots! Chris thought.

Team Seven had been less than a mile from the old ski cabin; less than an hour away, depending on how the wind-blown drifts were stacked up. Larabee had been planning to wait until everyone was warmed up before he told them their next stop would be that ski resort Ezra had mentioned. Brad Clarke would pick them up in the morning and drop them off there for three days of R&R, compliments of AD Travis.

But his plan had been upset when they'd heard the low roar of approaching snowmobiles. He and the others had been moving along the base of a ridge, working their way around it rather than trying to cross over it, due to the angle of the incline. But the snowmobiles had been traveling along the top of the ridge, clearly outside the boundaries of the state park. If they had been where they belonged, they wouldn't have posed any danger to anyone, including themselves.

As the drone of the engines had grown louder and louder, Chris had stopped, watching as three young men on their machines had appeared along the top of the ridge, then turned sharply and headed away again, racing. A moment later, a low growl had announced the first rends in the snowpack and, almost instantly, the wall of white had begun to move above them.

If he ever got his hands on those three morons…

Chris shut those thoughts off. They might have been lost. They might not have known the danger. They might just have been three stupid jackasses who didn't give a flying fuck about who they put in danger. But, in any case, it was too late to worry about them now.

He remembered yelling to the others to scatter as he'd run, as best he could, in his snowshoes… Then he'd heard the deafening rumble, and had been swept off his feet…

Chris' teeth began to chatter and he shivered. Come on, guys. It's getting cold under here.

Vin, where are you?

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

Larabee wasn't sure how long he'd been buried before the probe poked painfully against his abdomen, but it scared him more than he was willing to admit that he'd somehow fallen asleep.

He grabbed for the tip, but his fingers refused to close around the thin shaft. He tried again, gritting his teeth against the pain and fear, this time getting a grip on the metal pole just as whoever was using it started to pull it up again. He hung on, making them fight for it.

A muffled voice called, "Chris?"

"Here," Larabee gasped, knowing his voice couldn't penetrate the snow piled above him. "I'm here."

"Chris?" the voice called again.

Larabee groaned as the probe was pulled free from his hand, but, moments later, he heard the tearing sound of shovels digging into the snow above him. They had found him…

He smiled and closed his eyes, relief making his chest tight. The last thing he remembered was feeling the tears beginning to fill his eyes, and then he was pulled into the blackness of unknowing.

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

"I've got him!" Vin yelled to the others, who were spread out in a line, each man probing the snow with his pole. "Chris?" he called, then paused to listen, but he didn't hear anything. "Chris!" he called louder. "Dig!" he commanded, pulling his shovel free.

Beside him, Buck opened his pack and pulled out his shovel, beginning to dig as well. Josiah hobbled over to help, and JD stood, watching them, his splinted wrist making it impossible for him to assist.

It took ten minutes before they uncovered Larabee's knees.

"His face! Uncover his face!" Nathan snapped.

In a flurry of shovel scoops, then digging with their hands, they finally freed the blond a few minutes later.

"JD, call Search and Rescue!" Buck barked.

Dunne nodded, digging for his radio with one hand while Vin and Nathan helped move Chris out of the hole the blond had been trapped in.

"Damn it! Nothing!" the youngest member of the team said, a touch of fear and frustration making his voice rough. "I can't get a signal!"

"Damn it," Vin growled, glancing around. "Ridge must be cuttin' it off."

"It'll make it next to impossible for a chopper to get in here, too," Buck said, looking up at the rocky thrust of mountain.

"We'll have to move him to the top of the ridge," Nathan said, "then call for help."

Vin looked from one man to the next, fear making him colder than the snow. There was no way any of them was going to be able to make that climb with Chris. Ezra's ankle was badly sprained, Josiah's knee was wrenched or sprained, and JD's wrist was broken. Buck and Nathan were both banged up, too, the ladies' man favoring his left hip, while Nathan's shoulder was obviously hurting him. That just left him, and he'd taken a good blow to the head. His vision still hadn't completely cleared, but he could see well enough. He'd have to carry Chris to the top himself.

The sniper looked up at the apex of the ridge and sighed softly, wondering if he could do actually it. Not that he had a choice, really, but still, he had to wonder.

"Let's get to it," Tanner said.

The first thing they did was check Chris over for injuries. Finding nothing obvious, they did what they could to warm him up and then wrapped him in two space blankets, each of them carrying one.

Vin bent forward, Chris draped against his back, and waited while Buck and Josiah tied Larabee securely into place. Once that was done, they immediately set off for the top of the ridge.

The man's weight against his back was a comfort to the sniper, at least at first…

"Hang on, Chris," Vin said softly. "Please. Don't want t' lose y', Cowboy."

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

The constant jarring slowly penetrated the constricting blackness holding Chris prisoner. Consciousness rose, increased, focused, but not enough for him to actually open his eyes and see what the hell was going on.

So, unable to see what was happening to him, Chris allowed his mind to drift, finally becoming aware of a variety of other sensations.

He could feel his legs swinging, like he was sitting on a table that was too tall for his feet to reach the ground… like a doctor's exam table, maybe, but this table was bucking, jerking him up and down.

Then he heard it, the labored huff of a man nearly out of breath.

Who is it? he wondered. Why is he out of breath?

The questions rose, found no corresponding answers, then flowed out of his consciousness, his mind drifting again.

He was warm… Finally, warm. In fact, he could feel a tremendous amount of heat rising from the pillow he was lying against…

No, not a pillow, he realized. Someone's shoulder. He felt the tight nylon weave of a jacket against his cheek, smelled the wet-plastic odor of the material.

But he still couldn't understand what was happening. Where was he? What was going on? And why?

He groaned softly, frustrated over not finding any answers for a second time, and the movement stopped. Somewhere in the far distance, Chris thought he could hear voices, but he couldn't make out the words that were being said.

Reaching for the sounds, he strained to hear them, then tried to open his eyes to see who was speaking, but he could do neither. He fought for a moment longer, then stopped. It wasn't that important, anyway. The fear that had first gripped him in the tumble of the avalanche was gone. He felt safe now, even if he wasn't exactly sure why.

He wasn't still under the snow, was he? Could his oxygen be running out? Was he hallucinating as he suffocated to death?

No, he thought, remembering the poke to his belly by the pole. They found me. They must've dug me out… But where am I?

No answers were forthcoming and he felt the rush of frustration, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Relaxing again, he sank back into the warmth, basking in the comforting glow that wrapped around him.

And then the movement started again, a little less jarring than before, but it still made him feel like he was riding some barroom mechanical bull.

With nothing better to do, Chris started an inventory.

His legs were… swinging…

His feet were… cold, but not the rest of him. Well, that was an improvement, anyway.

There was an odd tightness cutting into his thighs, but it wasn't too painful, so he ignored it, continuing his mental examination.

His back was cooler than his chest, but not cold. His chest was pressed tightly against something, making it a little hard for him to breathe, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when he'd been buried under the snow.

When he had been buried?

He tried drawing a deep breath, and was able to do it with just a little effort, but much less effort than sucking air through the tube on his vest.

Pausing, he considered the changes, then tried to smile. He wasn't sure if he accomplished it or not. But he definitely wasn't buried under the snow any longer!

A quiet thrill thrummed through his body. He was free! They had found him, just like he'd known they would.

Thank God, Chris thought, his mind returning to the inventory without him really thinking about it.

It was kind of a weird feeling… His shoulders were rolled forward, his arms wrapped around something. He tried to move them, but he couldn't. Something was holding his arms in place. Was he tied? Why was he tied?

A little worried, he concentrated on his hands…

His wrists were bound!

He shifted his focus to his fingers, which were still inside his gloves, but the nylon fingertips were brushing against something… against… nylon?

Then he realized what it was he was feeling, what was shifting under his cheek: muscles. And, in an instant, realization struck. He had been tied onto someone's back – someone was trying to hike out with him on his back.

Christ, he thought. That was insane. He could clearly remember the terrain they had been moving through. The climb was too steep, the danger of another avalanche too great to try this.

But he also knew they wouldn't care. If they thought he needed help, they would get him out the quickest way possible, and that meant climbing up that ridge to the top where they could call for a Search and Rescue chopper to come and get them.

Jesus fucking Christ… None of them could do that!

Who is it? he wondered, trying to force his eyes open, but they still refused to cooperate. So, instead, he listened.

Who the hell is killin' himself to save my sorry ass?

The labored breathing was back, echoing loudly in his ears, and he could feel the muscles under the jacket straining, working as hard as they could – cording, relaxing, and immediately cording again.

You can't do it, he tried to say, but the words escaped his lips as a soft moan.

He wanted to tell whoever it was to stop, to rest, but he knew it would be useless. He couldn't even open his eyes; how the hell was he going to find a way to speak?

A few moments later, he suddenly felt weightless for a brief moment before he was jerked hard, like when a parachute opened on a jump. The sudden stop sent bolts of pain slicing through his thighs and his shoulders. He grunted and moaned, but it seemed no one heard him.

His heart began to beat faster. What had happened? Were they caught in another slide?

Chris quickly grabbed hold of his thoughts and emotions, forcing the fear back so he could think, concentrate. He had to think. He had to know who was carrying him, what was happening…

No, they weren't caught in another avalanche. In fact, they weren't moving at all. The only sound he could hear was the gasping breath, the only thing he could feel was the trembling muscles under him.

Then another sound reached his ears… retching. Whoever was carrying him was throwing up.

Damn it! This is crazy! Leave me here and go get help. There's no way you're going to make it to the top of that ridge with me.

Christ, why isn't someone helping you?

Maybe there was no one else to help? Could he have lost five of his men today?

A new fear warred for attention in his chest. Surely, he and his rescuer weren't the only survivors. He couldn't accept that. But, if they weren't, then where were the others? Why weren't they helping them?

Larabee's thoughts scattered when he heard a low, soft groan accompanied by a slow rise. A few moments later, they were moving again.

Was Vin dead?

Buck?

JD? He was still a boy, really…

How would he ever be able to face Rain, tell her that her fiancé was dead?

What about Ezra? His mother would be devastated…

Josiah?

Before long, his savior's breath was coming in wheezing gasps, and his steps were growing increasingly unsteady, but he pushed on, determined. Whoever the hell it was, he wasn't going to stop, not until he reached the top.

But that was impossible! Didn't he know that? Didn't one of the others? Why weren't they taking turns? Why weren't two of them carrying him? Surely, Nathan would have known the climb was impossible for one man, wouldn't he?

Unless it was Nathan who was carrying him… The man would go to any lengths to save one of them, he knew that. Hell, they all would…

He moaned again, softly, frustration at his inability to communicate prompting the sound. He couldn't tell his rescuer to stop.

Chris just hoped that, whoever it was, he could make it.

Soft grunts echoed in Larabee's ears, no doubt wrenched out of his rescuer by the incredible pain that kept the man's muscles twitching and trembling, even as he continued to plod on, step after step.

It wasn't JD, that much he knew. And whoever it was, he was too small to be Josiah… or Nathan… or Buck.

All right, he thought, that leaves who? Vin or Ezra… Or maybe it was a ranger, or even a Search and Rescue man.

He wanted, needed to know who it was, but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force his way past the last barriers trapping him in this half-waking world so he could reach full consciousness. He groaned again, frustration climbing, and the movement stopped for a second time. The man's body was shaking so hard Chris expected him to fall, but he didn't.

Larabee felt the man's head turn.

Probably trying to get a look at me, he reasoned. Oh! Because of the groan… He felt the brush of hair against his face and knew, with absolute certainty, that it was Vin who was carrying him.

Jesus, he thought. He and Vin were close to the same height, they had similar builds… How the hell could Tanner do it? He couldn't. There was no fucking way Tanner could carry him up the side of that goddamn mountain. No way at all. It was impossible.

Vin started off again, the sounds of his harsh breathing filling Chris' ears again.

No, Vin, stop, he ordered the man, but Tanner didn't hear him, of course. Please, he begged, you're going to kill yourself!

Anger flared in Larabee's chest. Why the hell were they letting Vin do this? They had to know it was impossible. He was going to hurt himself, or worse.

Why didn't Vin just leave him there? Why didn't one of the others help him?

He whined in frustration, trying hard to speak, to tell Tanner to stop, to put him down, but the sniper just kept trudging forward, wheezing, shaking… The unstoppable object, possessed by an irresistible force.

For me, Chris realized. He's doing this for me… Jesus…

Chris wasn't sure how long or far they traveled, but his world was quickly reduced to the rasping, straining gasps that passed for his rescuer's breath, the feel of the man's muscles under his cheek as they strained with the effort to save his life. Both were interrupted from time to time when Vin fell to his knees, retching into the snow.

His life meant that much to the man?

Christ… I'm not worth this, Vin, believe me… I'm not. You have to stop. Don't you hear me, Tanner? I said stop! Damn it, Vin, listen to me!

Vin was doing this to save his life. And that knowledge brought tears to his eyes for the second time that day.

Please, Vin, stop. You have to stop, damn it…

The voices returned, some sounding concerned, but they were still too far away for him to make out the words that were being spoken. Were the others still alive, then?

But that made no sense. If they were alive, they would have been helping. They weren't helping; therefore, they must be dead.

A pang of icy dread shot through his heart. Maybe they were dead. Maybe he was close, too. Maybe they were calling him over to join them…

But he couldn't listen to them. He couldn't go. He couldn't leave Vin here alone. No. Never. He knew too well what that felt like, how much it hurt. He couldn't do that to Vin. He wouldn't.

A few moments later, Vin came to an abrupt halt, but then he was moving again.

No, Larabee snapped. You can't do this, Vin. I'm not going to let you kill yourself to save my sorry ass. Christ! Damn it, Tanner, put me down!

But Vin just kept moving forward, one shaky footstep at a time.

Jesus… Please, Lord, don't let him do this… Don't let him kill himself for me. I can't do that again. I can't lose someone else I love… Larabee thought as the blackness rose up and carried him away.

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

Ezra and JD reached the top of the ridge first, both immediately dropping into the snow and gasping noisily for breath. The climb had been incredibly hard for all of them, but especially for Vin, who was burdened with Chris.

When the two men had caught their breaths, they turned to watch as Buck picked his way carefully over half-buried rocks and felled trees. His limp was more pronounced than it had been earlier, but the same could also be said of Josiah as he stumbled along after the ladies' man, Nathan next to him.

JD cradled his arm to his chest, the pain he was feeling clear in the grimace on his face. The rough sound of Buck's breath reached them.

Ezra crawled to the edge of the ridge and extended his hand, saying, "Buck."

The ladies' man looked up and, a moment later, realized what he was seeing. He took the proffered hand, letting Standish help pull him up and over the last of the incline. He turned around and dropped heavily into the snow next to the undercover man, panting to regain his breath.

A few moments later, Josiah and Nathan helped each other over the edge, with a little help from Ezra and Buck.

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

Well below them, Vin continued to struggle up the steep slope, his wheezing gasps masking all other sounds as he inched closer and closer to the top. The sniper's face was flushed and shiny with sweat that beaded on his forehead and ran down the sides of his face and into his eyes, but he ignored the resulting sting, focused only on reaching the top of the ridge.

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

As soon as JD caught his breath, he dug the radio out of his pack with one hand and called for help. "Twenty… minutes," he announced when he was done. "They… have our… position… They're… on the way."

Ezra forced himself to his feet and, looking down at Vin, called, "Search and Rescue is on the way!"

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

The sniper didn't even look up at the shout, he just forced one foot in front of the other, silently praying his strength didn't fail him before he reached the others at the top. But he wasn't sure he was going to make it.

It was getting more and more difficult to breathe, and his legs were growing heavier and harder to lift.

And, worst of all, he could see a tight band of blackness cutting off his peripheral vision, creeping slowly toward the center of his eyesight. He knew he had to reach the others before his vision went black, otherwise they would end up having to drag both him and Chris the rest of the way up the slope. Given the steep rise, he doubted they could do that without someone getting seriously hurt.

Blinking the sweat from his eyes again, he sucked in a breath as best he could and kept moving forward.

Ain't gonna leave y' out here, he thought. Ain't gonna lose the best thing I ever found. You're gonna make it, Larabee. You hear me? You're gonna make it. I ain't gonna let y' go. Not now, not ever…

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

"He's not going to make it," Buck said softly, shaking his head.

"He has to," Ezra replied, his gaze locked on the sniper.

"You're almost there, Vin," Buck called to the struggling man.

"Way to go, Brother Vin," Josiah added.

"You can do it, Vin," JD encouraged.

"Come on, Vin," Nathan said, "you can do it."

They all watched as the sniper stumbled, fell to his knees in the snow, then pushed himself back up and continued on. The same thing happened two more times, but he was getting closer; only a few more yards to go.

"Here, Vin, right here," Buck called when it looked like Tanner might veer off. "You're almost here. Come to me. Right here."

"A few more steps, Vin, you can do it," JD said, then shook his head and added in a softer tone, "Amazing… It's freakin' amazing."

"Everybody comes home," Buck replied, in a near-whisper. "Everybody."

"Come on, Vin," Ezra called, "you can do it. You're there. You're there."

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

Vin could hear the voices, he could even understand some of the words, but the meanings washed over him, incomprehensible. He was lightheaded, and that was probably making it harder for him to decipher what they were trying to tell him.

He would be doing better if he could just draw a few deep breaths to clear his head. But he was unable to draw those breaths, and he panted hard, trying to hold the blackness at bay, but it kept crowding in on him, trying to suck him into the welcoming oblivion he knew awaited him in the darkness.

When hands reached out, grabbing his arms and helping him the last few steps, he didn't even really notice.

"Hang on, Vin," Buck said, immediately starting to untie Chris while Ezra helped him.

A few moments later, they lowered Larabee to the ground, Nathan moving over to check on Chris while Ezra guided Vin to a large stone jutting up out of the snow, warm and dry from the sunlight shining on it all day. He helped the sniper sit, exchanging worried looks with the others over the wheeze that rattled out of man's chest.

"Vin?" Ezra asked, taking the sniper's face in his hands and lifting it so he could see Tanner's eyes better. They were glassy and the skin around his lips was touched with blue. "Vin, can you hear me?"

Vin blinked once, then nodded. "Can't… breathe."

And it didn't get any easier for the sniper over the next several minutes. He looked up at one point, meeting Ezra's concerned gaze, and gasped, "Chris?"

Standish looked over, calling, "Nathan?"

The man looked up and said, "I'll be right there."

"How is Chris?" Ezra asked.

"He's coming around," Nathan said, then looked back at Larabee when the man moaned.

Vin choked and coughed, starting to stand so he could get to Chris, but he dropped back onto the rock, his hands coming up to his chest. "Can't… breathe."

"Easy," Ezra said, turning back to the sniper. Then he heard the sound of the chopper approaching. "Help's on the way. Just keep breathing."

"Tryin'…" Vin said, his gaze flickering between Nathan and Ezra. "Chris?"

"He's doing better than you are," Standish said.

Vin tried to shoot the man an annoyed glare, but he just didn't have the strength to do it. A moment later, he felt the first buffet from the chopper's rotor blades as it moved in to hover above them. He focused on drawing a breath, then another, and another, as a basket was lowered. Nathan> and Buck moved Chris into it, then climbed in themselves to be winched up.

"Time to go," Ezra said into the sniper's ear.

Still wheezing, Vin stood, managing three steps toward the next basket before the blackness finally overtook him and he collapsed, face-first, into the snow.

His last thought was: Chris…

Community Hospital

Aspen, Colorado

11 January 1999

4:20 p.m.

Nathan sighed heavily and pushed off the sofa to pace in the small waiting room. He checked his watch and scowled when he found only twenty minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked – forty-five minutes since they had arrived at the hospital in Aspen.

"You should stay off that ankle," JD said softly as Nathan passed him.

Jackson glanced at the younger man, a sharp retort dying in the back of his throat. JD's arm was in a cast, and his expression was sincerely concerned. He glanced down at his ankle, wrapped tightly in Ace bandages that surrounded ice packs, then sat down next to JD with another sigh. He hadn't even noticed the ankle up on the mountain, just his shoulder. He shook his head. Hell, they all had more injuries than they'd expected.

"We'll hear something soon," Josiah assured him from his chair.

Buck nodded. "We'd damn well better."

Ezra, who was lying stretched out on a second sofa, his leg immobilized and resting on a pillow, chuckled softly. "I don't think storming the nurses' station is going to help our situation, Mr. Wilmington."

"You never know," the ladies' man replied, allowing a tired grin. "What could be taking them so long?" he asked Nathan.

Jackson had no answer for the other man, so they continued to wait.

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

Almost an hour later, JD looked up to see a young man entering the otherwise empty waiting room. He was wearing jeans, a dark maroon T-shirt, matching socks and black Birkenstock sandals. He smiled, asking, "Friends of Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner?"

Ezra sat up, the others standing. The man gestured for them to sit back down.

"Are they all right?" Nathan asked worriedly as he sat.

The young man walked over and sat next to Ezra. "I'm Nick Russkin. I treated Mr. Larabee, and he's doing very well. We're moving him to his own room; you're welcome to see him as soon as he's settled. We're going to keep him for a day or so to make sure there are no complications, but everything looks good so far."

"What about Vin?" Josiah asked him.

The doctor glanced at the big profiler. "I'm not the attending, so I don't really have any answers for you. But I can tell you he was still being treated."

"Mr. Tanner is going to be fine," an older woman said, walking in to join them.

"This is Dr. Sanja Assbecki," Dr. Russkin introduced.

The woman nodded to the others, then sat down next to Dr. Russkin. She was in her late fifties, with short black hair that was liberally salted with silver. Deep laugh lines around her pale brown eyes gave her an air of matronly affection. Her skin was a deep, cocoa brown.

"What's wrong with him?" Nathan asked her.

"He took a pretty good knock to the head."

"What?" Ezra interrupted, looking from Nathan to the other men. "Did he say anything to you?"

"Not to me," Nathan replied with a sigh, while the others just shook their heads.

Dr. Assbecki smiled. "He told me he didn't say anything. But the blow weakened him, and when you add in that climb… Well, to make a long story short, he's had the equivalent of an asthma attack, and he's currently finishing his second nebulizer treatment. He's also strained a great many muscles, and I want someone in our sports medicine department to do an evaluation. To be honest, I cannot understand how he did it, not with the headache he must have had, and then the respiratory inflammation."

"It's pure, unadulterated stubbornness," Buck supplied, his expression half-amused, half-awed.

"That's as good an answer as any," Dr. Assbecki agreed.

"No," Joshia replied, shaking his head, "it was a matter of heart, and that boy has more heart than any man I've met."

"Whatever you call it, he probably saved Mr. Larabee's life," Dr. Russkin said. "Not to mention, spared all of you more serious injuries."

"But he'll be fine, right?" JD asked the two doctors.

"I think so," Dr. Assbecki replied. "We're going to keep him overnight, to see how his lungs respond to the treatments. I've scheduled an evaluation in the sports medicine clinic for tomorrow morning; Dr. McCouch is very good."

The two physicians stood, Dr. Russkin smiling at them. "Don't worry, they'll both be fine. And you can check at the nurses' station to find out what Mr. Larabee's room is. Mr. Tanner will be joining him in a little while."

"Thank you," Nathan said.

"You're very welcome," Dr. Assbecki replied.

Community Hospital

11 January 1999

8:40 p.m.

Chris glanced tiredly into the open hospital rooms he passed as he was wheeled down the hall to his own room. He was still cold, but at least it wasn't the same bone-bending, icy pain that had held him in its grip earlier. But he was tired, exhausted, really.

Once in his room, the orderly who had pushed his wheelchair helped him into a narrow, but comfortable bed. A nurse arrived to make sure a heated blanket was tucked in around him from foot to shoulders before she added an extra regular blanket to the bed to keep the heat trapped close to his body. His feet were encased in at least two pairs of socks, and there were mittens on his hands, a knit cap on his head, and something warm wrapped around his neck. He hoped he could soon get comfortable for the first time in many hours hours.

"Thanks," he said, his voice sounding weak and rough.

The orderly smiled. "No problem," he said on his way out. "You take care."

The nurse grabbed an electric cord with a button at the end. "If you need anything, just call, okay? I'm going to go get you something warm to drink. Would you like coffee or tea? Maybe some soup?"

"Coffee's fine."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Chris watched the woman leave, sleep making his eyelids heavy, and he wondered if he would even be awake when she returned. That concern vanished the moment he saw Buck lean into his room.

"You awake?" Wilmington asked him.

"Am now."

Wilmington smiled and limped slowly into the room, Nathan, Josiah, Ezra and JD following right behind him.

"How're you feeling?" Jackson asked him.

"Better," Chris said, holding his anger in check. They all looked battered and at least as tired as he felt. "Still thawing out, but at least my teeth have stopped chattering before I wore 'em down to nothing."

"Nothing else?" Buck asked him, his expression skeptical. It was hard to imagine Chris could have escaped an avalanche unscathed.

Larabee sighed softly. Damn, but they were a pack of mothering hens. "Couple of cracked ribs, some bruises, cuts, and a lump the size of an egg on the back of my head, but that's about the extent of it." He left out the hypothermia.

"You are one lucky man," Josiah informed him, shaking his head in disbelief.

Chris' eyes narrowed as he studied the agents. "What about all of you? And where the hell's Vin?"

"Uh, we're all fine," Buck hedged, suddenly looking more than a little uncomfortable.

"Those bandages don't look like 'fine' to me," Chris countered in a near-growl. "I want a report – right now."

The others all looked at Nathan.

"My shoulder and ankle. Didn't separate it, but I came close," Jackson explained, nodding down at the sling his arm rested in and deciding he would let the others explain their own darn injuries.

JD held up his arm, which was in a cast. "Fractured wrist… and bruised ribs."

"Wrenched knee," Josiah added, gesturing at his leg and holding up the cane a nurse had given him to use. "Ankle is sprained, too."

"Bum hip," Buck added, looking a little sheepish. "Probably a bruised kidney, too."

"Buck," Larabee growled at him.

JD grinned. "He's supposed to be using crutches, but he left them in the waiting room."

The ladies' man shot him a glare, but Dunne was unrepentant. "I told you, JD, those damn things bruise my armpits."

"Next time I see you, it damn well better be on crutches," Larabee told his friend.

Buck sighed heavily, but he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "All right, all right… Guess it'll give me an advantage with the local ladies…"

Chris looked to Standish, asking, "Well?"

"Sprained ankle," Ezra said simply.

"Severely sprained," Nathan clarified. "He ought to be on crutches as well."

"Yes, well, I was able to talk my physician out of that drastic measure," the undercover man said, looking pleased with himself.

"Vin?" Chris asked, his voice catching. He watched as all five men glanced away from him and felt his chest tighten painfully. Oh my God… "Was he—?"

"He's gonna be fine, Chris," Buck interrupted him.

"Then where is he?" Larabee demanded, still worried. He could vividly remember the feel of the man's muscles straining under his weight, the sound of his labored breathing, and the heaves.

"He's still being treated," Nathan explained.

"For what?" Chris asked, his voice rising. What the hell weren't they telling him?

"He took a bump to the head," JD replied.

"And he had something like an, uh, asthma attack," Buck added.

"What?"

"He can tell you all about it when they bring him in," Nathan added, nodding at the empty bed in Larabee's room. "We told the doctors you'd both behave better if you were in the same room."

"The important thing is, he'll be fine," Josiah summed up.

Chris gave the man a sour look. He was going to demand more information, but decided against it. There was time to find out what was going on, it seemed. Josiah was right, the important thing was Vin would be fine. Thank God.

The nurse walked in, carrying a tray with a small glass pot of coffee and a cup. A plastic container was stuffed full with packets of sugar. She set the tray on a bedside stand and rolled it over so it was in easy reach. "Be sure to put in as much sugar as you can stomach," she instructed him. "I'll be back with some more in a little while," she added, then left.

Chris prepared his coffee, adding almost twice as much sugar as he usually would… meaning it was more like what Vin would drink… Damn… He better be all right. If he kills himself saving my life…

There's got to be a way to kick somebody's ass when they're dead…

He made a face when he tried a sip of the hot coffee, but he knew he had to force himself to drink the syrupy liquid. Glancing up, he looked over the men, all of them hurting, all of them worried. "All right, if Vin's gonna be fine, you guys get the hell out of here and get some rest."

"Chris," Buck started to argue, but Larabee held up his hand to silence him.

"That's not a suggestion," he added. When he saw the five men exchange mutinous glances, he added, "Look, you told me the doctor said Vin was going to be fine, right? Anything you want to add to that?"

"No," Nathan said emphatically. "Get some rest, Chris. We're going to do the same. We'll see you in the morning."

Chris nodded, then, needing to be sure, he said, "He was the one…"

"Yes," Josiah said softly.

"Yeah… that's what I thought," Larabee offered in a whisper. He cleared his throat and added, "Get the hell out of here – now."

He watched them limping and shuffling out of his room, then glanced over at the empty bed, a chill surging through him and nearly forcing the hot coffee back up his throat. "You damn well better be all right, Tanner," he hissed at the absent man.

Community Hospital

12 January 1999

7:50 a.m.

Chris awoke several hours later, warm and pain-free, thanks to the medication a nurse had brought in for him some time earlier. He blinked and opened his eyes. It was light outside; he must have slept all night.

Rolling his head to the side, he immediately checked the second bed. Vin was there, curled up under the covers, sleeping. He studied the man's face, noting the dark circles under his eyes, but, other than that, he looked fine.

And, thank God, he wasn't hooked up to any machines as far as Larabee could tell, but then he noticed the device attached to the man's finger.

Well, he thought, that makes sense. If he was having trouble breathing, they'd want to monitor how much oxygen he has in his blood. But there were no heart monitors, no ventilators, nothing… serious. Thank you, Vin… you damned idiot.

When they got out of the hospital, he knew he would owe the sniper a beer and a proper thank-you. But, right now… He closed his eyes as the sounds of Vin's strangled wheeze filled his head and he felt again the man's muscles bunching, twitching with the strain, jerking as he humped his sorry ass to the top of that ridge. He knew he would never forget the way those muscles had trembled with exhaustion, or the heat that had risen from the man's body, heat that had probably kept Chris alive until they had reached that ridge… How did you thank someone for that?

If they had been in the military, it would have been simpler: He would have put Vin in for a medal… But that wasn't a thank-you, not really.

A soft whimper scattered his thoughts and Chris looked back at the sleeping man. Tanner was frowning, the troubled sound escaping his lips once again.

"Hey, Vin?" Chris called softly.

The sniper grunted and jerked, his eyes blinking open. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but then he looked at Chris and grinned sleepily. "'Bout damn time y' woke up, Cowboy," he grumbled.

Chris returned the smile. "Yeah? Well, how are you doing?" he asked, suddenly at a loss. How did you talk to the man who had done the freakin' impossible, humping your ass up the side of a mountain?

Vin nodded and shrugged at the same time as he pushed himself up so he was sitting up in the bed. The movements were clearly painful. Then he snorted softly and shook his head. "Sore," he said by way of a reply.

"I'll bet," Chris replied, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

The two men fell silent for a long moment before Vin asked, "Got all your fingers 'n' toes… 'n' the other parts?"

Chris grinned. "Yeah, all the parts are— Everything's where it belongs. I'm fine."

Vin nodded, clearly relieved. "Yeah. Me, too."

Larabee wanted to say more, say thank you, but the words just weren't available. They were both spared the awkwardness when a nurse came in, letting them know their breakfasts would be arriving shortly.

Community Hospital

13 January 1999

7:40 a.m.

Chris awoke to the soft sounds of the television playing in his room. He glanced over at the second bed, but it was empty and made up. Then he remembered, they had released Vin yesterday afternoon. The sniper was headed to several sessions of physical therapy once he got back to Denver, but he would be fine. And that made Larabee feel much better. There was no permanent damage, just pulled and strained muscles and ligaments, overextended joints and severe muscle fatigue…

Just…

He snorted and shook his head.

With luck, he would be leaving this afternoon himself. Not that any of his team seemed to be in any rush for him to be discharged. No, they all seemed to be enjoying their time in the Colorado resort town.

"Good morning," Josiah greeted as he walked in and found Chris awake.

"Morning."

"They tried to drop your breakfast off a while ago, but I thought you'd rather sleep. I'll go let them know you're awake so they can bring it up."

"Thanks," Chris replied, looking forward to the coffee, if not the rest of the meal. It seemed hospital food tasted the same, no matter where you were. "Where is everybody?"

The older man's eyes rounded slightly and his eyebrows arched. "They're… out. Taking in the sights," he added.

"Sightseeing?"

He smiled warmly. "Aspen's a beautiful town… You should see some of the galleries."

"Pass," Chris replied.

Josiah used the remote control to turn up the volume on the television, suddenly very interested in whatever it was that Bryant and Jane were talking about.

Chris sighed and shook his head. Something was going on, but Josiah obviously didn't want to talk about it. A volunteer arrived, carrying his breakfast tray, and set it up for him. He thanked the older man, then lifted the plastic cover, setting it on the bed and digging into his food. An interruption for breaking news caught his attention and he glanced up, watching as a parka-clad reporter started speaking.

"…we have some amateur video of the incident that took place not far from Aspen earlier this morning…"

The screen shifted to an area around a ski resort. At one side of the screen was a long row of snowmobiles; on the other, the edge of a building. In the center of the screen was a pretty young woman who was smiling while she held a two- or three-year-old girl, helping her to wave at the camera.

All of a sudden, three of the snowmobiles exploded in what was an obviously well-contained fashion, at least to a trained observer.

"Why these three snowmobiles exploded is under investigation, but local authorities believe it was an intentional act. Luckily, no one was injured in the blasts. The early hour meant that tourists were, for the most part, still in their hotel rooms."

Josiah grabbed the remote and pressed the mute button just as Chris bellowed, "Where are they!"

He met Chris' accusing glare and shrugged. "I'm, uh, not sure, they—"

"Are out there, blowing up three snowmobiles!" Chris hissed, his voice low enough no one walking by could overhear, but just barely.

Josiah held his gaze, then pulled himself up and replied, "They deserved more, Chris. They really did. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they didn't care. They also saw the avalanche, and us, and they didn't bother to report it. They could've gotten us killed out there. Be grateful I talked them into just blowing up the machines."

Chris blinked. "They knew?"

The profiler nodded. "You don't think we'd do something like that if we hadn't done our homework first, do you?"

Larabee shook his head and said, "Get them on the cell… I want to say thank you."

Federal Building, Denver

17 January 1999

9:00 a.m.

Chris looked up as AD Travis stepped into his office. "So, how's the Phelps family doing?" Larabee inquired.

"Dealing with the loss of Daniel Phelps and his brothers," the older man replied sadly, but then he brightened a little. "But I hear Hannah and Andy are telling people all about the 'soldier angels' who rescued them."

Chris grinned and chuckled softly.

"How are you doing?" Travis asked. "All of you."

"Fine," Larabee assured him. "We'll need a couple more weeks, but then we'll be good to go when you need us."

Travis nodded, a sly smile curving the corners of his mouth. "And that, uh, incident in Aspen?"

"What incident?" Chris asked him, looking so perfectly innocent that even Ezra would have been proud if he'd seen him.

Travis shook his head. "You know damn well what incident. You're all damned lucky you weren't caught."

"Or damned good," Chris offered with a wolf-like grin.

Travis chose to ignore that remark. "And what is this I hear about an elk-hunting trip?"

"You wouldn't want to go," Chris told him. "Too cold."

"I like the cold. I do well in the cold. Have you been to Washington lately? The budget talks are damn frosty, I can tell you."

Larabee laughed. "All right, then, you're invited."

"Great," the older man enthused. "When do we leave?"

Larabee's Ranch

19 January 1999

7:00 p.m.

Chris looked around himself, enjoying the scene. His team were scattered around his living room, well-fed and relaxed. It was exactly how he liked to see them.

But, while the rest of his men were enjoying the company and the movie playing on pay-per-view, Larabee was sitting in his chair, the sounds of Vin's harsh breathing as he had struggled to the top of that ridge echoing in his mind.

Watching the sniper from the corner of his eye, he marveled at how quickly Vin had bounced back from the ordeal. Oh, he still had several weeks of PT to look forward to, but the doctors all agreed that he was going to be just fine. They were all going to be fine.

But the blond just could not get the feel of the man's trembling muscles out of his mind. It was one thing to know that your friends were willing to lay their lives on the line for you, and quite another to have actually tested that knowledge – felt it, heard it, lived it. He just wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

If it had been in the line of duty, things would have been different. Hell, Tanner had saved all their lives at one time or another while on the job, often by putting himself at risk, and he had gotten hurt, worse than this, as a result. It was what they all expected, and what they were all willing to do for each other…

But this wasn't on the job, not really. This felt different, and it was driving him to distraction. Yes, Vin loved him, but even that just didn't explain the effort the man had expended for him…

Surely there had to have been a better way to do it. They could have rigged up something so two or three of them could have carried him, couldn't they?

And why hadn't Vin told them he was hurt?

Okay, it was a head injury, and maybe Vin hadn't realized he was hurt at the time. God knew that would be like Tanner – get an injury that allowed him to think he wasn't injured. Damn convenient, if you asked him.

No, Chris told himself, Vin knew. Vin knew exactly what condition he was in, and he chose to do it, alone.

Why?

And why did it matter so damn much that he got an answer to that freakin' question?

He wasn't sure. But it did.

He pushed himself up and took a couple of steps toward the hallway, then stopped and said, "Vin, you help me for a second?"

Tanner looked up from where he lay, stretched out on the smaller of the two sofas. "Yeah, sure." He pushed himself up and climbed to his feet, moving more stiffly than he usually did.

Together the two men walked to the kitchen, Larabee going about making coffee for the team while Vin gathered up the cups and started adding sugar and cream to those that needed it.

They worked in silence. But Chris had asked Vin to help him for a reason, and he had to know, had to ask: "Why?"

"Huh?" Vin responded, pausing in his task.

"Why?" Chris repeated, his voice soft, intense.

Tanner's gaze dropped to the floor as he realized just what it was his lover was asking. "Had to be done," he replied.

"Why alone?"

"The rest of 'em were hurt."

"So were you," Larabee reminded him.

Vin leaned back against the counter, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze still on the terra-cotta tiles. "Not as bad."

"Yes, you were… Damn it, Tanner, you knew it, too."

A heavy sigh and Vin lifted his head, blue eyes meeting Larabee's green. "Didn't want any of 'em gettin' hurt worse 'n they already were."

That brought the blond up short. "That's it?"

Vin's expression turned a little stony. "What're y' interrogatin' me for?" he asked, his accent thickening, a sure sign he was getting uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

"That's it?" Larabee repeated.

Another heavy sigh, huffed out with a softly muttered curse, and Vin mumbled, "Had t' do it…"

"What?"

"Had t' make sure it got done!"

That caught Chris by surprise, although he couldn't honestly say what it was he'd expected to hear. He lowered his voice and asked, "You didn't trust them?"

That brought Vin's head up, blue eyes flashing slightly. "'Course I trust 'em. I trust 'em with my life," he snapped, then jerked his gaze away from the man and sighed heavily. "Just harder when it's your life, is all…" he added, his words trailing off as his cheeks colored with embarrassment.

That sparked a blush across Larabee's cheeks as well. He wasn't sure what kind of expression was on his face, but whatever it was, it prompted Vin to continue.

"You were out of it, an' I could see Nathan was scared. I knew we had t' get y' t' that ridge so we could call in a ride. They were hurt, and—" He broke off, making his own realizations. "I just couldn't take the chance. I knew I'd get y' up there."

"But why?"

"Damn it, Chris, I gotta spell it out for you?"

Larabee didn't reply, as confused as Tanner was in his own way.

Vin's voice dropped and he looked first to the kitchen doorway, to make sure that they were still alone. "Y' know I ain't had much family… What I do have means a lot t' me. You're family, Chris. I love ya, and I'm not gonna apologize for bustin' my ass t' make sure I keep what I got now."

Larabee shook his head. "Wouldn't want you to apologize, Vin. It's just that…" He trailed off, unsure what, exactly, he wanted to say. "Family's precious," he finally stated. "There's no doubt of that… But I want you to remember something, okay?"

Vin nodded, unable to meet the older man's eyes.

"It works both ways," was all he said, watching as the implications sunk in.

Vin paled slightly and he nodded. "I understand," he said simply, softly.

"Seems pretty inadequate, given what you did, but… thank you."

Tanner nodded. "You're welcome."

The two men exchanged uncomfortable glances, both of them embarrassed, and yet the closeness, the love they felt, was undeniable, and too important to ignore.

"Family," Chris said softly, "has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"The best," Vin agreed, then he cleared his throat and asked, "That coffee ready yet?"

Larabee nodded, a slight grin lifting the corners of his mouth as he turned to the pot. Goddamn, but it did feel good to have a family again… And maybe, just maybe, he could talk Vin into expanding their own family… But that would have to wait until the others were gone.

With the coffee ready to go, Chris took advantage of the fact that Vin's hands were full to lean in and plant a kiss on the man's cheek. "I don't know why, but I do love you."

Vin's blushed, but he muttered, "Love you, too…"

"Come on," Chris said. "We better get out there before they come looking for us.

Vin nodded, but he stopped after a couple of steps, saying, "I was scared, Chris. Scared I was goin' to lose ya, 'n' I just found ya…"

Chris turned back, the look of pure desperation on the man's face almost undoing him. He stepped up and took Vin's face in his hands, pulling his head up for their eyes to meet. "You didn't. And you think I wasn't worried about the same thing?" He felt more than saw the man shake his head. "Vin, I've been there. It sucks. But it didn't happen."

"Just so damn scared…"

"I know," Larabee said softly, knowing he was going to suggest to the others that they call it an early night. He and Vin needed some quality cuddle time, and he was going to see to it they got it.

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

It was easier than he'd expected to get the others on their way. All it took was one huge yawn from him, and a few glances at Vin, who looked tired and beat down, and they were saying their good-byes and heading for the door.

Chris watched as the last of the vehicles headed down the driveway, then turned to Vin, who was sitting on the sofa, his knees drawn up, trying, he knew, to get warm. He walked over and sank down next to the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

Vin huffed out a small laugh and shook his head, saying, "Hell, don't know why it's all comin' up t' bite me in the ass now…"

"'Cause it can," Chris replied. "C'mon, let's got to bed."

Vin nodded and together they pushed off the sofa. Chris stopped just long enough to turn off the gas feeding the fire in the fireplace while Vin turned off the lights, then they headed down the hallway to their bedroom.

Larabee turned on the electric blanket to warm the bed, then followed Vin into the master bath to take care of his nightly rituals.

Less than ten minutes later, they were in bed, Chris spooned in behind Vin, holding him tight to his chest.

"It's harder," Vin said into the darkness.

"What's harder?" Chris replied, although he had a pretty good idea where Vin was headed.

"Harder t' deal with the close calls when y' love somebody."

The blond nodded, then pressed a light kiss to the back of Tanner's shoulder. "Yeah, it is."

Vin didn't reply, and Chris let his eyes close, thinking the man must have fallen asleep.

"We are family… aren't we?"

The question caught Chris off guard and he forced his heavy eyelids open. "Of course we are."

Vin fell silent again for a few moments, then asked, "Wish—" he started, but he didn't finish the thought.

"What?"

Vin shook his head, the movement causing the man's too-long hair to tickle Chris' nose.

"Tell me… please?" Larabee prompted.

Vin sighed, then drew a deep breath and said, "Just that sometimes I wish… I wish we could, y' know… have kids of our own."

That rounded the blond's eyes with surprise. "You'd want that?"

There was a pause, during which Chris held his breath, waiting.

"Never really thought 'bout it," Vin said quietly. "But up on that mountain… Those kids… When I was carryin' ya, I was thinkin'… I don't know, I guess I thought how if we died, there wouldn't be nothing left… Ah, hell, ain't like it makes any difference. Not like we c'n have kids."

"There's lots of ways to build a family, Vin."

When Vin didn't respond, Chris pushed himself up onto his elbow and reached up, caressing Tanner's shoulder as he said, "Same-sex couples can adopt, or foster… Hell, there are even surrogates."

Vin rolled over into his back and stared up at Larabee in the darkness. "Y' had a son…"

"Yeah," Chris replied. "Day I held him in my arms the first time was the best damn day of my life…"

"Just don't know if I'd make much of a daddy," Vin said, his tone sad.

"What makes you say that?" Chris asked. "I think you'd make a great dad. I saw you with that little girl… You don't have anything to worry about."

"Really?"

Chris grinned in the darkness. "Really." He leaned over, finding Vin's lips and giving him a long, exploring kiss that had both of them breathless and half-hard by the time it was over.

"Mmm," Vin sighed, reaching up to grab Chris and pull him down onto his chest. "Y' woke me up."

"I did, huh?"

"Yep."

"Well, guess that means we've gotta find something to do that'll put ya back to sleep…"

"Got some ideas," Vin offered, reaching down to take hold of Larabee's cock. He stroked it slowly, softly.

"I won't admit it, but you do have a good idea every now and then."

Tanner's fingers squeezed, drawing a soft moan from his lover. "Just every once in a while?"

"Some are better than others," Chris teased.

"I'll show you some ideas," Vin growled, hand moving, mouth attacking.

Chris closed his eyes, sinking into the sensations his lover was inducing in his body. He smiled. They would be fine, and, a year from now, he thought, they might both be fathers – Vin for the first time, and him for the second.

It was an exciting thought…

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