by Michelle Fortado & Lorin Zane

"Hey, Chip," Buck greeted as he walked up to the bar in J. Watson's, otherwise known as "the saloon" to the men of the ATF's infamous Team Seven.  "You seen Vin?"

"Oh, yeah, I saw him," the bartender said, shaking his head.  "I saw him come in, and I saw him go out."

Buck's smiled faded.  "Go out?"

"Yep, and I have to tell ya, I was damn glad to see him go, Buck.  He was starting to scare away some of the other customers.  But then he came back again.  He's been in the back room for a while now.  Inez thought he'd be, uh, safer back there."

Buck sighed heavily.  "Yeah," he agreed.  Lord knew Tanner could be deadly when provoked and, having never seen the man well and truly drunk before, Wilmington wasn't sure what might goad him into action in that state.  "I'll go get him; take him home."

"I'd appreciate it – we all would.  Inez call you?"

"Yeah.  Hell, I thought he was—  Well, it doesn't matter."

The bartender's gaze swept over the tall agent.  Buck looked more than a little haggard himself.  "He, uh, looked pretty upset earlier.  What's going on?"

The ladies' man shook his head.  "Story's too long, Chip, but he's just upset.  We had a bad day today."  Wilmington pushed away from the bar without elaborating and headed for the back room where private parties were usually held.  When not in use, it doubled as a private pool room for the lucky few Inez allowed in, but this time of day, no one would be playing, unless Vin was.

Buck paused just inside the door, his mouth falling open.  Vin was most definitely not playing pool.  Tanner was sitting on a bar stool at the second, smaller bar, leaning heavily on one elbow, his chin in his hand while he smiled up at a tall, shapely redhead who was smiling indulgently back at him.

Wilmington blinked, thinking, Now that is the definition of beautiful, as he stared at the woman.  He started over to the pair, saying loudly, "Hey, Junior, you been here all day?  Hell, son, we've been lookin' all over for you."

Tanner glanced over at Wilmington and smiled drunkenly.  He gestured Buck over to join them.  "Sandy, this here's Buck'in," he slurred.  "He works wiff me."

The tall redhead glanced at Buck and smiled invitingly.  "Oh, are you an ATF agent, too?"

Buck grinned back at her, his gaze sweeping over the woman's full figure.  She was most definitely easy on the eyes, but he wasn't here to find a date for later this evening, although there was no reason not to kill two birds with one stone…

He glanced at his teammate, knowing Tanner had to be hurting, but he really hadn't expected the sniper to drown his pain in booze.  That was more Larabee's style.

"Come on, Junior, time to get back to duty," he said, then flashed a smile at the woman.  "If you'd, uh, like to give me your number, I'll have him call you when he's sobered up."

"Or you could call me," she offered with a seductive purr.

"Well, yeah, I suppose I could," he agreed with his most winning smile.

Vin drew himself up indignantly and stared hard at Wilmington.  "I's never dunk when 'm on duty," he informed the ladies' man, then reached out his hand, missing Wilmington's shoulder completely and falling sideways right off his barstool.

Buck heard the thudding smack as Tanner hit the floor behind him and winced.  He glanced around, then immediately turned back to the pretty redhead on his left.  "And if I did call you, maybe we could go to dinner, then some dancing?"  He reached out and took a gulp of Tanner's beer.  "We could have some drinks afterward and—"

"Uh, I think your friend's hurt," the girl said, looking worriedly down at Vin, who appeared dead, he was lying so still.

"Oh, he always does that when he gets drunk," Buck lied, never having seen Tanner take more than a single drink at a time.  "So, do you want to give me your number?" he asked hopefully.

"Are you sure he isn't hurt?" she asked, still peering worriedly at Vin.

Buck glanced down.  "Naw, he's just sleeping.  You know, he even sleeps on the floor at home, too."

"He lives with you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Vin?  No.  He lives in Purgatory."

Her eyes rounded and her gaze shifted between Buck and Vin as she squeaked, "Purgatory?"

Buck nodded.  "It's not as bad as they say.  Why, there hasn't been a shooting in his building for more than a month now."

She frowned, clearly having second thoughts about the sniper.  "Are you, uh, are you going to just leave him lying there?" she asked.

"Well," Buck said, thinking fast as he saw her allegiance slipping away, "he can be a really, really stupid drunk, and—"

With a look that could have incinerated the ladies' man, the girl slid off her stool and knelt down beside Vin, scooping Tanner's head up in her hands.

"Hey!" Buck warned her.  "Don't pick his head up like that, you'll break his neck."

Frightened, she immediately let Vin's head drop back to the floor.  It bounced once.  Tanner groaned.

Whatever he'd had going for him earlier was gone, so, with a disgusted snort, Buck yanked Vin up from the floor and dusted him off, even though he wasn't dirty.  Inez kept her place spotless.

Tanner stared at the multiple Wilmingtons swimming through his field of vision and tried to force his eyes to focus.  But when they finally did, Buck's mustache still continued to swim in and out of focus.  The effect left him feeling nauseous.

Vin carefully reached out, carding his fingertips into Buck's mustache, the feel of the thick hairs tickling his fingers.  He giggled and Wilmington jerked his head away.

"Where's m' jacket?" Vin asked.

"You're wearin' it, Junior," Wilmington growled, knowing Tanner was so drunk he could barely stand.  They were never going to get out of the bar at this rate.  So, holding Tanner steady, Buck crouched over and pulled Vin's right arm across the back of his neck.  Then, slipping his own right arm between Vin's legs, he gripped the man behind his knee and heaved him up and across his shoulders.  "Another time?" he asked the now wide-eyed woman.

"Adios, bee-bee," Vin slurred drunkenly, his dangling left hand slapping Buck's rear end as he attempted to wave to her.

"Knock it off, Junior," Buck sighed, carrying Tanner out the back to the parking lot.

"Mama, don't let yer babies grow up t' be cowboys," Vin sang as Buck located Tanner's Jeep, which was parked at the curb, and carried the sniper over to it.  He had a fight to wedge the smaller man into his miserable excuse for transportation.

"Let go of the door," Wilmington ordered.

"Take me back, Buck'in," Tanner slurred thickly, "I didn't finish m' beer."

"Get in the Jeep," the ladies' man growled.

"'M already in th' Jeep."

"Your foot, damn it!  Put your foot in the Jeep!" Buck cried in exasperation.

"M' foot?  Which one?  I got four 'a 'em, ya know."

Buck sighed heavily, his eyes closing for a moment.  Then, picking up the foot in question, he bent Vin's knee and heaved, toppling the sniper into the passenger seat of the beat-up vehicle and slammed the door shut.

Vin gripped the dash and tried to pull himself up into a seated position, but he wasn't having much luck.

Buck slid in behind the wheel and, irritated, roughly helped Vin, yanking him up and throwing him over into the corner of the seat.

"Thank ya, Buck'in," Vin said, then belched loudly.  He giggled.

"You're welcome."  A twinge of guilt prompted Buck to lean over and lock the door so the inebriated man wouldn't fall out.  "Give me the keys."

"Keys?  What keys?" Vin asked, looking around, surprised.  "We home already?"

"The keys to the Jeep!"

"Oh, them keys…  Where we goin'?" Tanner asked, leaning over to wedge his hand into his pocket, but he lost his balance and toppled over against Buck.  "'Scuse me."

"Somebody should, but it ain't gonna be me," Buck muttered, shaking his head and impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he braced against Vin's weight.  "Jesus Christ, Tanner, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped when the younger man's head slid off his shoulder and down his arm.

"Huh?"

"Sit up!" Buck barked.  "Where are the keys?"

"What keys?" Vin asked as his head slipped out of the crook of Buck's elbow, thumping down onto the man's thigh.

His patience gone, Wilmington levered Vin up into a seated position a second time and slammed him back against the seat, hissing, "Get your hand out of the way."

Long seconds passed as Buck leaned over Vin, trying to extricate the Jeep keys from Tanner's pocket.  "Goddamn it," he finally growled, "your pants get any tighter, you'll have to wash 'em off at night.  Straighten your damn leg!"

"Hey, there's a—" Vin began.

"Lift your ass – now," Wilmington snapped, wondering how in the world Larabee ever dealt with the man.

Suddenly, there was a tapping on the Jeep's window and Buck looked around just as the blinding beam of a flashlight caught him square in the eyes.  "Damn it!" he cried, shutting his eyes as he cranked the window down.  "Get that damn thing out of my face!" he snarled.

A voice from behind the glaring light replied, the tone low and mistrustful.  "And just what're you two boys doing, hmm?"

"He's molestin' me, off'sir," Vin slurred and Buck had to fight to keep from killing the sharpshooter right then and there.

"All right, you two, out of the vehicle."

"I'm a fuckin' fed!" Buck yelled.

"Yeah, I can see that much," the voice replied dryly.

"I mean I'm a federal agent," Wilmington hissed.

"Right, and I'm Governor Romer.  C'mon, buddy, get out."  Then the voice called, "Hey, Roof, come over here, man.  We've got a real comedian here."

Buck stepped out of the Jeep, muttering hotly to himself, and was immediately grabbed and slammed down across the hood.

"Roof," who was nothing more than a shadowy figure in the darkness, peered into the car at Vin, who had turned toward the locked passenger side door and was trying to get out that way.

Buck went through the humiliation of being frisked a little too roughly between the legs by the man behind the flashlight.  "Hey, watch it!" he warned.

"You, in the car," Roof called, "come on out."

"Hey, Roof, this joker's got a freakin' gun!"

"I told you, I'm a federal agent.  ATF, ever heard of it?" Buck bellowed as Roof spun quickly away from the Jeep's open driver's side door to back up his partner.

"Bucklin!  'M trapped in here!" Vin howled, rattling the door.  "Bucklin!  Get me out 'a here!"

Ignoring Vin's cries for help, Officer Roof quickly stepped in front of Buck when he was roughly yanked up off the hood of the car and spun around.

"You just stand right there.  Keep your hands up," the voice cautioned as he slid his hand inside Buck's jacket.

"Try my back pocket," Buck said, turning slightly to offer his right hip to the officer.

"I think you'd like that too much," the voice replied.

"It's my ID!"

Removing the ID, the officer handed it back to his partner, who flipped open the leather case.

"Jesus Christ, Manny, he is a fed!  What the hell's this country coming to?"

"Look, that drunken fool in the Jeep is my teammate," Buck said in a tone that clearly conveyed he'd taken all the abuse he was going to.  "I was trying to get the car keys out of his pocket so I can drive him home.  It's his damn Jeep."

His comment was met by silence from the two officers.

"Look, damn it—"

"Wilmington, Wilmington," Officer Roof muttered, as the realization finally hit him.  "From ATF Team Seven?  That Tanner in the car, your sniper?"

"Yeah, Vin Tanner," Buck said, a little surprised that the story had already circulated down to the level of the beat cops.

Roof started laughing and Manny clapped a hand on Buck's shoulder.  "Sorry, man, we didn't know.  And, you have to admit, it did look a little… well, kinky.  Man, that was one helluva shot he made today.  Guess you were out celebrating, huh?  Glad your boss made it out okay.  Well, hang in there."

"Yeah, thanks," Buck replied, but he didn't miss the sound of their snickers as the two men sauntered back to their cruiser.  He shook his head and walked around to the open driver's side door.  Looking inside, he found Vin holding the car keys up, clasped between his thumb and forefinger.

"Fooled ya," he said happily.  "They's in m' other pocket."

Gently, with teeth clenched, Buck took the keys from Vin, inserted the correct one into the ignition switch, and fired the engine.  He switched on the headlights, pulled his door shut with a bang, and leaned back to see around Vin.  Waiting for a break in traffic, he pulled away from the curb, muttering under his breath.

Vin slid down in the passenger seat and, after a few unsuccessful tries, managed to get both of his feet up onto the dash.

"You're an irritating pain in the ass, Tanner," Buck said.  "Anyone ever tell you that?"

Vin swiveled his head for a glance at the ladies' man, then returned his gaze to the road beyond the windshield.  "Yeah," was the serious, almost sad reply, "been told that more 'n a few times."  Then, before Buck could follow up on that, he added, "I gotta take a piss."  He reached down for his fly.

"Tanner!" Buck yelped.  "Not in the goddamn Jeep!  Good God in Heaven," he moaned, shaking his head.

"Trickle, trickle, drip, drip," Vin sang off key, "ya better get me t' a toilet quick."

Frantically, Buck scanned the passing businesses, looking for a service station.  Spotting a Loaf 'n' Jug on the other side of the street, he hit the brakes and cranked the steering wheel.

Vin popped off his seat, fell over against Buck's shoulder, then bounced away as one wheel of the Jeep lurched over the curb and came down hard.  With fingernails scratching across the dash, Vin slid off his perch and onto the floorboards, cracking the side of his head against the door.

"Where's m' rifle?" the sniper snarled, crawling back up onto the seat.  "'M gonna shoot that bastard."

Buck screeched to a halt in the station parking lot and Vin slipped back onto the floorboards again.

"Goddamn it, Tanner, would you stop clowning around?" Buck snapped.  "Now, go, before you piss yourself, the Jeep, me, and everybody else!"

"Ever'body else?" Vin squeaked, rising up just far enough to peer around nervously.

Wilmington rolled his eyes and climbed out.  He walked around and, after unlocking and opening the passenger side door, grabbed Vin beneath the armpits and dragged him out the door to the pavement.  Righting him, Buck escorted the man across the lot to the restrooms.  "Get in there and go, damn it!"

"Where?"

"Oh my God, don't tell me I'm going to have to— Tanner, I'm gonna—"  He angrily grabbed the sniper by the front of his jacket.

"No, don't, Buck," Vin whimpered.  "When yer dead, ever'thing lets loose, y' know.  I don't wanna go with wet pants."

"Where you're goin', they'll be dry in no time!"  And with that Buck manhandled Vin into the restroom and shoved him into a stall, waiting not so patiently as Tanner took care of business, all the while singing, "The itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the water spout… 'long come the rain 'n' washed the spider out…"

Back in the Jeep once again, Vin moved on to "Zippity do-dah… zippity-day…"  And Buck wished he had an extra pair of hands so he could cover his ears.  A member of the team for only four months, who in hell would ever have guessed that the efficient, usually taciturn sniper could be such a complete ass when he was drunk?

"Christ, Vin, would you please shut up?" Buck pleaded.

"Sure, Bucklin."

"Thank you!"

"Yer welcome."

The drive to Vin's building took considerably less time than getting the sniper up the four flights of stairs to his apartment.  At first Tanner attacked the steps with dead-eye concentration, making it up two flights before he went down and started crawling on his hands and knees.

"You're sad, you know that?" Buck asked him, gripping his teammate from behind and straightening him up.  "Now, just walk ahead of me," he instructed, hugging Tanner around the waist to keep him on his feet.

Vin giggled and immediately held his arms out in front of him, then bent his elbows and twisted both his wrists back and forth.

"Well, go on, move!" Wilmington snapped, wondering what the hold-up was.  "What the hell're you doing now?"

"Var-room!  Var-room!" Vin roared.  "We'll take m' mote-a-sickle!  Hang on, Bucklin!"  He leapt forward, yanking free of the grasp Wilmington had on him.

Buck went down on the stairs, catching himself on the palms of his hands.

"Screech!" Vin hollered.  "Shit, I lost Bucklin!"  He looked around at the ladies' man, who was pushing to his feet.  "I told ya t' hang on, Bucklin… m' clutch slips."

"Your brain's slipped," the ladies' man muttered through tightly clenched teeth.  "Turn around, Junior," he directed, then turned the man himself, none too gently, and encircled his waist once more, giving him a nudge in the rear.  "Now, walk!"

Vin walked, one tottering step at a time, step after step after step.  They were nearing the landing on the fourth floor when he suddenly lifted both feet, braced them against the top of the next step up, and pushed back with all of his strength.

Both of them went tumbling, end over end, down the stairs.  Buck executed a perfect off-the-shoulder somersault off the last stair and landed flat on his back on the third floor landing.  He stared up at a dimly lit ceiling and wondered if he could plead justifiable homicide.

"Why me?" he moaned, and stayed right where he'd landed until Vin's head came into view above him.

"Told ya we should 'a took m' mote-a-sickle."

At the end of his patience, Buck rolled over and pushed to his feet.  He marched Tanner up the stairs, one arm encircling the sharpshooter's slim waist, his other hand gripping the top of Vin's faded jeans, literally dragging him on his side, one hip bumping into his with every other step.

"Hell, Bucklin, I ain't no cripple!  Put me down!" Vin complained.

"Shut up, ya crazy, long-haired, drunken Texas-reject."

"It hurts!

"Tough!"

Along the hallway on the fourth floor, doors opened and eyes peered mistrustfully at them through the cracks.

"Evening," Buck said pleasantly to each one he saw, continuing to drag a whimpering Vin Tanner along the floor.  The doors closed.

Finally inside the man's apartment, Buck literally picked Tanner up off his feet and slung him onto the sofa.  Vin landed and bounced forward, knocking the coffee table onto its side as he fell to the floor.

"Thank ya," Tanner said, his voice muffled by the carpet.

"You're welcome."

Wilmington stomped off to the kitchen and helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator.  He twisted off the top and leaned heavily against the counter draining it in a series of long swallows.  He sighed heavily when he heard Vin rattling around in the living room.

What now, the ladies' man wondered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Seconds later, Buck heard a guitar being played.  He grabbed another beer and walked back to the living room only to find his drunken teammate was playing the instrument.

Buck stood there, listening as Vin began singing Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.  With the guitar accompaniment he actually sounded pretty good.  That or he'd finally become immune to Tanner's voice.

He carried his beer over and sat down on the sofa beside Tanner and when Vin sent him a questioning glance, Buck joined in, singing along as he opened his second bottle.

The song came to an end and Vin pushed wearily to his feet.  He set the guitar aside.  "'M goin' t' bed," he mumbled, taking off his jacket and starting to pull off his shirt.

"Oh, no you're not!" Buck said, grabbing Vin by the back of his jeans and yanking him back down onto the sofa.

"Y' keep yankin' on m' backend 'm gonna think yer a fraud, Bucklin," Vin growled, trying to work his pants back down where they belonged.  "I wanna go t' bed."

"Listen up, Junior, I'm gonna sit here finish my beer, and you're gonna sit there and tell me why the hell you thought you had to go get drunk in the first place.  That's something I'd expect Chris to do, not you."

"Ya mad at me, Bucklin?" Tanner asked, his voice very much like a little boy's as he dropped back onto the sofa.

"Hell yes, I'm mad at you!"

"'M sorry," Tanner said, his expression as hangdog as Wilmington had ever seen it.  "Didn't mean t' piss ya off…"

"I know you didn't," Buck sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face.  "Why'd you disappear from the hospital like that anyway?"

Tanner looked away, blue eyes filling with tears.

"Christ, Vin, what's goin' on in that thick head of yours?" Buck asked him, although not unkindly.  He reached out to rest his hand on the back of Tanner's neck, giving it a squeeze.  "You know Chris is going to be fine, right?"

"Damn near got himself dead," Tanner said hotly, but quietly.

"What are you talkin' about?  Vin, you saved his life today."

"I let him get shot, Buck!" Tanner blurted out, head going up, blue eyes full of pain and regret.  "He trusted me t' watch his back an' I let 'im get shot!  He could 'a got killed!"

"Hell, Vin, you're just a man, not some damn magician.  Chris knew the risks when he went in there.  You saved his life.  He knows that, and so do the rest of us."

Vin looked anything but convinced as he glanced away from the ladies' man.  "Know better 'n t' get close t' folks," he said softly.  "Stupid.  That's what I am.  Stupid, stupid, stupid…"

"Vin, we're not just 'folks.'  We're family, son," Buck told him.

"Family don't let each other get hurt like that!" Vin bellowed.  "Hell, Larabee's prob'ly gonna can m' sorry ass.  He'd have ever' right to, too."

Wilmington sighed heavily.  Tanner wasn't going to believe a word he was saying, not until he heard it from Chris, but he had to try, because he was sure the younger man would hear the same words from Larabee.

He looked at the Texan, realizing that it was guilt, and nothing more, that had driven him into the bottle.  But he had nothing to be guilty about.  He'd done his best.  The shot he'd made, the one that had saved Chris' life, was one Wilmington would have sworn couldn't have been made.

"C'mon, Junior, let's get you into bed."

Tanner stood, his shoulders sagging, the picture of utter defeat.  "What the doc say 'bout Chris?"

"He said Chris was going to be just fine.  Hell, he'll be back to work, riding our tails in no time."

"Not mine."

"Yes, yours, too."

Tanner shook his head.

"Vin, listen to me," Buck said, stepping up next to the smaller man.  "Chris is your friend, and so am I.  And so is JD and Josiah and Ezra and Nathan.  We – none of us – expect you to be perfect.  We don't expect you to perform miracles.  We know you're up there, watchin' our backs as best you can, and we know you'll do everything you can to keep us safe and alive.  And, if something goes wrong, we all know you did everything you could to prevent it, or fix it.  We know that, Vin, and so do you."

Tanner drew in a long, shuddering breath.  "I tried, Buck, I really did, but I just didn't have a shot 'til Carr stepped out…"

"I know that, Vin, I do.  And Chris is going to be fine.  He had his vest on.  It just bruised him up some, that's all."

"Thought he's dead," Tanner said softly, starting to shake.

"I know you did, son," Buck said, slipping his arm around the smaller man's shoulders.  "But he isn't.  Hell, ol' Chris is too damned mean to get himself killed like that."

Vin looked up, meeting Wilmington's eyes.  "JD's right, y' know… yer full 'a crap."  He pulled away.  "We's all human, an' it's too easy fer us t' get killed.  I don't wanna be the one responsible, Buck.  I don't want t' hurt like that.  Don't think I can live with it…"

"You're not responsible, Vin.  You can't be responsible for everything.  You have a job to do, we all do.  You just do that job the best you can, and if anything ever does happen, you won't be alone, I swear to you.  We'll be there – all of us.  We'll hurt together and we'll survive, together."

"Don't think—"

"There's no use borrowing trouble, Vin.  Believe me."

Tanner thought for a moment, then nodded.  "'M too drunk t' think straight… must be why what yer sayin' makes sense."

That brought a soft laugh from Wilmington.  "That you are.  I didn't figure you for a drinker, Junior."

"Ain't.  First time I ever got drunk.  Don't think I like it much."

Buck nodded understandingly.  "You'll like it even less in the morning."

Vin took a step toward his bedroom, then stopped.  "Aw hell, I ought t' get over t' the hospital, tell Chris 'm sorry fer runnin' out on 'im like I done."

Wilmington shook his head.  "I let Chris see you like this and he'll kick my butt all the way into next week."

Vin snorted softly.  "In the mornin'?" he asked the ladies' man.

Buck nodded.  "In the morning I'll drive you over myself."  He glanced down at the sofa.  "Looks comfortable enough, you got any extra pillows?"

"Yep," Tanner replied.  "An' blankets, too."

"Hell, Junior, you're a regular Boy Scout!"

Vin staggered off, returning a few minutes later with a pillow and two blankets, which he handed to Wilmington.  Looking up, he met the older man's eyes.  "Thanks, Bucklin."

The ladies' man smiled.  "Hell, Vin, that's what family's for."

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

Buck woke sometime later to the sounds of retching.  He got up and followed the sounds to Tanner's bathroom.  The younger man was on his knees, paying homage at the porcelain throne.

The ladies' man found a washcloth and wet it and wrung it out, handing it to Vin when he finally straightened and reached up to fumble the handle down to flush.

Tanner accepted the cloth and wiped his face.  He started to shake with a chill, and Buck had to help him to his feet and back to his bed.  Leaving Vin there, he went to the small kitchen and made the man a cup of tea, taking that back to the bed room.

Taking one look at the cup, Vin shook his head, his face turning grey.

Buck set the cup aside, Vin's eyes slipping closed.  A few minutes later, the sniper was asleep again.  That or he'd passed out.

Making a command decision, Buck used his cell phone to call Nathan.

Half an hour later Nathan was sitting on the edge of the bed, finishing with an IV that would help rehydrate the sniper while he slept.

"You should take him to the hospital," Nathan said.

"He's just drunk, Nate."

"He's more than drunk," Nathan replied.  "He's covered with bruises.  He get into a fight?"

Buck shook his head.  "I don't think so."

"Sure as hell looks like it."

"He just got drunk and fell into a few things," Buck said, waving his hand dismissively.

Nathan shook his head.  "Didn't seem the type to do that."

"He's feeling guilty about what happened to Chris."

Nathan frowned.  "Guilt?  For what?  He saved Chris' life."

"Not the way he sees it," Buck said with a sigh.

"Well, maybe he'll believe it when he hears it from Chris."

"How is he?"

"Sore, but he'll be fine."

Buck nodded, looking more than a little relieved.  "I'll take him over to the hospital in the morning to see Chris."

"All right," Nathan replied.  "You need anything?"

"Just a couple hours sleep."

"He'll probably sleep the rest of the night," Nathan told him.  "I gave him something for the nausea."

"Appreciate it, Nate," Buck said, walking the man to the door, then locking it after he left.  Returning to the sofa, he lay down and was asleep almost immediately.

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

When Buck woke next it was to the sound of the shower running.  He got up and headed to the kitchen, making coffee and waiting for Vin.

When Tanner finally emerged, still looking a little grey, he handed him a cup.  This time Vin took it gratefully.

Buck watched as Tanner carefully lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip.  He winced as the effort sent shards of pain through his skull.

"Won't say 'good morning,'" Buck said quietly.  "You ready to go to the hospital?"

Vin looked like he was anything but ready, but he set the cup aside and started for the door.

"Vin," Buck called softly.

Tanner stopped and turned.

"It's going to be fine," the ladies' man said.

Vin shrugged, knowing that it was not going to be fine, but he might as well get it over with.  There was no reason to delay the inevitable any longer than necessary.

Buck frowned, wondering what he was missing.

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

An hour later the ladies' man was standing in Larabee's hospital room, his mouth open in surprise as he watched Vin walking out the door.  Not ten seconds earlier Larabee had asked Tanner for a resignation letter, and Vin had agreed.

"Chris?" he said.  "What the hell is going on?"

"Not interested in talking about it."

"Not interested—"  Buck felt his temper firing up.  "Well, I don't care if you do or you don't.  I want to know what the hell is going on!" Buck demanded.

"And I said I don't want to talk about it!" Chris snapped back.

"Fine, then you can lay there and listen!" Buck countered.  "Last night that kid nearly drank himself to death because he felt guilty about what happened to you!"

"He should have taken that shot sooner," Larabee growled, refusing to meet his friend's eyes.

"If he'd taken it any sooner you would have been dead, you stupid son of a bitch."

"Maybe so, but two other people would have been alive," was the hotly hissed reply.

"His priority was you," Buck countered.

"That's the problem!"

"No, it isn't!" Buck yelled.  "You still want to die, Chris.  God knows I appreciate why, but don't you dare blame that kid for saving your life.  If you want to die that badly, you do it yourself."

Chris glared at the ladies' man, but Buck knew him too well.  "There's more to it than you know, Buck," he growled.  "I'm the leader of this team, and—"

"Chris," the ladies' man interrupted, "you're my best friend, my boss, hell, you're like a brother to me."

"Buck—"

"Shut the hell up for once and listen to me," was the immediate response.

Larabee glared, but he shut up.

"I know what you're thinking—"

"You—"

"You're thinking Vin waited because he loves you," Buck continued, stepping right on Chris' attempt to cut in.  "You think he let his feelings for you determine when he took the shot, and two people died because he's in love with you."

When Buck stopped Larabee was staring at him, his eyes rounded with surprise.

"And you'd be wrong," Buck continued.  "He waited because he didn't have a shot until he took it.  I was watching, Chris.  I swear to you, he took that shot as soon as he could, and you came as close to getting' killed by that shot as a man ever wants to.  You think that hole in your body came from Cabberson?  It didn't.  That was Vin's."

"What?" Larabee said, eyes rounding with surprise.

"To save your life, he had to shoot you to kill Cabberson's man, who was holding you while Cabberson killed those other hostages.  Vin never had a direct line of sight on Cabberson, not until he stepped into his sights when you and that bastard went down."

Chris looked up at the ladies' man.  Buck Wilmington had been his friend for more years than he cared to count, and he always knew when the man was lying to him.  This time, he wasn't.

Buck nodded, seeing that he was getting through to the man.  "He waited until he could get a shot that wouldn't kill you, or leave you out with a permanent disability.  It was the best he could do, and as far as I'm concerned, it was a damned miracle.  But he loves you, Chris, and goddamn it, you love him, too.  So get your shit together and don't let the second best thing that's happened to you slip away, because if you do—"  He shook his head.  "Just don't, okay?  Just don't."

And with that Buck stalked out of the room, leaving Chris in his bed to mull over everything the ladies' man had said

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

It was several weeks before Chris returned to work, and then it was only to fly a desk.  Still, he was grateful to be back, and on his way to "normal."

He looked down at the letter lying on his desk – Vin's resignation.  He sighed and glanced out the window of his office to the desk where Tanner sat, working on his computer.  Until Larabee signed his resignation, he was still a member of Team Seven, still duty bound to do his job.

Vin hadn't come to see him while he'd been in the hospital, or while he'd been recuperating at the ranch.  And, to be honest, he hadn't expected Vin to.

Tanner looked thin and sunken, dark circles around his eyes, his shoulders slumped.  His hair had gotten too long, and was oily, like he hadn't bothered to shower for a couple of days, and he probably hadn't.

The others were giving Tanner his space, except Buck, who seemed to be hovering near the man like he expected him to drop at any moment.

And that was all his fault.  Larabee sighed again and reached up to agitate his fingers against his scalp in a frustrated scratch of an itch that wasn't really there.  He huffed out a breath and leaned back in his chair.

He knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

Sitting forward, he yelled, "Tanner, my office!"

He saw Vin flinch like he'd been struck, but he stood and walked to the door of Larabee's office.

"Sit," Chris said.

Vin hesitated, but then he walked into the office and over to the chair, sitting down, his chin dipped toward his chest.

Chris pushed the letter toward Vin.  "You didn't sign it."

Vin shook his head.  "Buck said y' gotta sign first."

"Buck, huh?"

Vin nodded.

"I'm not signing it."

Chris watched as Vin trembled.  "What?" he asked, looking up for the first time.

"I said, I'm not signing it."

"But—" Vin started.

"I was wrong," Chris said.  "You took the shot when you could."

"I shot you," Vin corrected.

Larabee nodded.  "Yep, you did.  To save my life, to save as many of those hostages as you could.  To save Ezra."

Vin looked utterly confused.

"You did the best you could in a bad situation.  Hell, you did better than best; everybody says that shot was impossible."

A chill chased down Vin's spine as the image of that moment when he pulled the trigger, still not completely sure if Chris would live or die, not sure if the man he loved, would live or die.

"Y' said y' wanted my resignation."

"I was… I was wrong."  Chris stared at the younger man and waited.  He could see the confusion, indecision, and hope that warred in Tanner's blue eyes.  "Vin, I love you.  That hasn't changed.  I was just so sure that you'd hesitated because you love me…  But I was wrong.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have doubted you like that."

Vin waited for several long seconds before he nodded.  "Damn right y' shouldn't."

"I'm sorry."

Vin started to shake and his face took on a grey-cast as it drained of blood.  "What do y' want me t' do."

"I want you to tear this up," Chris said, pushing the letter toward Vin.  "I want you to come back home.  And I want you back in our bed, where you belong."

Vin's chin quivered, and his eyes filled, but he straightened his spine and stood, looking down at Chris as he reached out and took the letter.  While the blond watched, he tore the paper into bits and let them fall like snowflakes across Larabee's desk.

"And you're coming home?"

Vin thought for a moment, then he nodded.

"And—"

"Guess we'll see," Vin said, some of the tension draining from his body.

Chris nodded.  "Go back to work.  Tonight I'll say I'm sorry… in private."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Vin's mouth.  "I'll hold ya t' that."

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

That night Vin followed Chris up to his ranch.  It was a drive he knew as well as the trip to his apartment in Purgatory.  He parked next to Chris' Ram in the wide driveway and climbed out.  His travel bag was still in the back of his Jeep; he'd never bothered to take it out.  It had spare clothes – work and leisure – and his bathroom kit.

He climbed out and grabbed his duffel, following after Larabee as he led the way to the door and unlocked it.  They entered the ranch house and Chris disarmed the alarm, then waited for Vin to come in and shut the door before he locked it.  Without a word the blond turned and headed to the kitchen where he made coffee.

Vin left him to it, heading to the living room to turn on the gas fireplace.  He sat down on the brick hearth, shivering slightly as the memories of the hostage situation rushed through his mind, but he forced them away.  He'd done what he'd had to, as soon as he'd been able.  That was all he could do.

Standing, he walked straight back to the master bedroom.  The room was warm.  Chris must've known, or hoped, he'd be here tonight.  That put a small smile on Vin's lips as he undressed down to his briefs.  He pulled down the blankets and climbed on, pulling one of the pillows under his chest.  Bending his knees, he crossed his ankles and hugged the pillow, willing the fear he'd been living with for over a month to go away.

He heard footsteps coming down the hallway, then into the bedroom.  The jingle of a belt being opened, then the sound of a zipper coming down told him that Larabee was taking off his pants.  He didn't look back, just closed his eyes and listened as the blond toed his shoes off, then opened his pants, unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it out of his pants.  The pants went next, then the shirt.  He knew Chris was standing at the foot of the bed, dressed just in his T-shit and briefs.

Vin listened intently as they were removed as well.  His breathing came faster and he felt himself getting hard as he waited.

A few moments later he felt the bed dip as Chris climbed on.

Vin uncrossed his ankles and let his legs drop to the mattress.

Chris shifted, straddling Vin's brief-clad ass, his own erection lying along Tanner's crack as he leaned forward and planted tender kisses across the younger man's shoulders.

Vin moaned softly and squeezed his ass cheeks together, wishing he had taken off the briefs.  Chris chuckled softly, the sound vibrating into Vin's body from where Larabee's chest touched his back.

The bed and Chris shifted again, then the blond was standing at the foot of the bed again, his fingers curling under the waistband of Vin's briefs.  Then they were being pulled down.  He lifted his hips and they were dragged down his legs and off.

Without even thinking, Vin opened his legs, and groaned when Chris climbed onto the bed between them.  Fingers gripped his ass cheeks and squeezed.

Vin dropped his head into the pillow as Chris moved up over him, his cock bouncing against his back.  The sound of the small drawer in the headboard opening raised goose bumps all over Vin's skin.  Wait… when had Vin turned over?

Chris shifted, lying down beside him, then there was the shock of coolness as the lube was rubbed over his anus.  Vin groaned again, his toes curling as Chris continued to lightly stroke until he whimpered.  Then one finger slipped inside him and Vin gasped with pleasure and relief.  He'd been so sure this would never happen again.

Chris took his time, preparing him, teasing, touching, making Vin want to scream.

"Chris," he moaned, "please…"

It felt like he was melting into oblivion as Chris pressed slowly into him.  Vin arched up and the blond's fingers curled over his shoulders as Chris began to love him.

Tears rolled down Vin's face as he lost himself in the sensations Chris was eliciting from his body.  He shook, trembled, jerked, and ached.  He raced to the edge of release only to be jerked back, then forced to the brink again.  But he didn't care, he was in Chris' bed, being loved.  Larabee was alive, back to work and he still wanted him.

Tanner wasn't at all sure how he'd ended up on his back, his legs up, Chris slamming into him, and he didn't care.  All he knew was he was about to come, and it was Chris who was taking him there.

"S' close… Chris…"

Larabee's hand tightened around his cock and Vin started to shake, then he was coming.

"Damn, Vin," Chris hissed, then he was coming as well.

The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur for Vin.  He knew they lay there for a few minutes, neither able to move.  Then Chris pushed up, pulled Vin up, and they stumbled to the shower to clean up.

Their skin still damp, they tumbled back into bed.  Chris started to pull the blanket up, but Vin stopped him, snuggling up, his leg over Chris', his arm wrapped around his back.

Chris wrapped an arm around Vin, then reached up and cradled Vin's head.  "I love you, Vin.  I'm sorry. I—"

"I know," Tanner interrupted.  "I know why y' said what y' did, an' if I'd done what y' thought I had… I'd 'a done the same thing you did."

"I should have known—"

"Y' didn't have any way t' know.  Hell, Bucklin was the only one who saw what I saw."

"Thank God he did."

Vin nodded.

"To be honest…  If the situation had been reversed…  I would have done what I thought you had.  When I realized that…  I was mad at myself, but I took it out on you.  I realized just how much I love you, and I swore I'd never let myself love someone like that again."

"Hell, Chris, I would've done what y' thought I did, but I never got that shot.  The one I took was the best I got.  I ain't gonna let you get killed, Chris.  Not if I can stop it.  Ain't gonna let innocent folks get killed either."

"I know," Chris said, then kissed Vin's forehead.  "I really do know, and I won't make that mistake again."

"Y' better not.  Next time I'll kick your sorry ass, even if yer layin' in a hospital bed."

Larabee laughed.  "You do that."

They lay in silence for a few moments, then Chris chuckled.

"What?" Vin mumbled.

"Buck told me about you getting drunk…"

Vin moaned.

"Trying to pick up a redhead…"

Vin moaned louder.

"Cops… takin' a leak… riding a motorcycle up the stairs of your apartment…"

"Shut the fuck up, Larabee."

"I wish I could've seen it."

"Bastard…"

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