Part One

Awareness came slowly, filling Chris Larabee's senses as the early dawn light filled the room. The light washed through the dark green blinds, shafting sunlight across the walls and floor and bed in regular patterns, weaving warmth and light together in a subtle glow that was as gentle as a morning kiss. He shifted to his side as a slender bar of light started to brush across his eyes, not quite ready to get to the "shine" part of "rise and... "

Not likely to get a morning kiss either, he thought, smiling a little as his gaze fell on the exposed shoulders and back of the man in the bed next to him. Tangled light brown curls fell over the tanned skin, the same striation of sunlight that had woken him, patterned the skin in alternating bars of deep bronze and gold, here and there picking up a freckle or a scar for contrast and texture. Otherwise the skin was smooth and soft looking under the blur of sunlight and sleepiness.

Reaching out, Chris trailed two fingers lightly down the pronounced knobs of his lover's spine, feeling Vin shift under the soft caress, but not waken. Not yet.

Rare enough for Vin Tanner to sleep through the movement Chris had made rolling over, much less this touch. Only here. Vin felt safe enough, secure enough here to sleep this deeply -- as Chris did -- and Chris never slept so deeply as when he had Vin sharing his bed.

It happened often enough for Chris to find it familiar, but not so constant a thing that he yet took it for granted. And not likely to ever be that way for either of them -- not while they were doing the jobs they did and lived the lives they lived. A few nights, a weekend here or there, and the rest of the time everything that happened in this place, in this room, had to be set aside. Deliberately. Purposefully. Without compromise.

Neither Chris nor Vin were particularly, specifically, worried about being found out as gay or bi or whatever convenient label other people might feel called upon to use to describe their relationship. That it wouldn't be greeted by joyous celebration by everyone in their acquaintance didn't matter either. There was more anxiety to the idea that not all of their closest friends and team members might be that accepting.

What did make it less likely to ever become common knowledge was that their relationship had crossed pretty specific guidelines of ethics and behavior that, if openly broken, might ruin one, if not both of their careers. Even a man as open minded as A.D. Orrin Travis was likely to take the rule book out and hurl it at both their heads -- if not more vulnerable places.

ATF Supervisors did not date, seduce, get seduced or otherwise engage in relationships outside the norm of peerage and friendship, with their subordinates. And they certainly weren't allowed to fuck them or be fucked by them.

And if they were engaged in such intimate relations, they damn well better not be caught at it.

If Chris went to Travis and told him he'd not only changed his sexual orientation but had a live in lover, the Assistant Director would not have blinked an eye. If he suspected Vin Tanner was making his way through half the Denver P.D. male or female, he would only caution that too much of a good thing makes a good sharpshooter dull of eye and mind.

There were moments when Chris devoutly wished he or Vin worked for different agencies -- or even different divisions of the ATF. Anything that would put Vin well out of "direct report" status.

And then he'd find himself praying fervently to a God he didn't always believe in that he could keep Vin close, keep him in sight, if only because what they did was always dangerous, always just a thought and reflex ahead of disaster.

Which was, of course, the reason why the conduct code was invented in the first place. Neither husbands and wives nor siblings were allowed to serve in the same field units, and never was that more stringently enforced than when one of a partnership was in a supervisory position and the other a subordinate.

Chris had to smile again, leaning in, letting his lips trail over the path his fingers had taken.

Vin Tanner was hardly a subordinate -- more likely to be insubordinate, just like the rest of Team 7, given half a chance. They were the most insubordinate, mouthy, headstrong, stubborn, cantankerous crew of independent lone gunmen ever shoved together in the history of the ATF.

But once together they were also the most cohesive, competent team of men it had ever been Chris' honor to work with. He'd hand picked every one of them, tied them together with a common thread of justice, rode their asses like a harried single mother and watched them come together like a band of brothers. Heroic rhetoric aside, there wasn't one of them that took their jobs lightly or would do anything to weaken the integrity of the team.

Until now.

And being fair to himself, Chris knew neither he nor Vin were really compromising that integrity either. Not from the inside of the team. If anything, he figured those who knew him well enough for their opinions to count would say he was more stable, less likely to lose his temper or take unconscionable risks with his own life, or the lives of his team, since Vin had come into his life.

The same might be said of Vin who'd never had Chris' temper but had been prone to taking off half-cocked, to volunteer too quickly, to take risks he shouldn't.

Nothing much to lose for either of them.

That was then.

Vin's skin was warm, tasting slightly of sweat from the night's sleeping if not the events preceding sleep. Solid muscle refused to yield under the pressure of Chris' lips, only trembled in reflex and reaction. He couldn't see Vin's face yet, buried as it was in the pillow under his head, but the rest of it was pretty pleasing -- from broad shoulders to lean hips to the firm ass obscured under a tangle of blankets and sheets.

"Y'know...if'n you're hungry, breakfast would be good," came a muffled and sleepy response to Chris' early morning explorations. Chris only grinned and bit one rounded shoulder gently.

"I'm thinking a little bit of something would be good right now," Chris said.

"That mean you're cooking?" Vin asked when Chris moved up to nuzzle the same shoulder, pulling the tangled hair back to tuck his chin against Vin's neck.

The roughness of his beard made Vin squirm a little, but at least now Chris could see part of his lover's face. Vin had a small smile on lips that were already twitching with laughter. Son of a bitch wasn't asleep at all and probably hadn't been from the moment Chris first touched him.

"Sure. Haven't we got chili left from last night? Couple of tortillas, eggs...maybe peppers."

Vin wasn't going to give in that easy. "Sounds pretty good. Don't forget the coffee." He rolled over, Chris shifting just enough to give him room to get on his back. Vin's eyes were open, blue and clear, mouth still curving in that smile that always meant trouble.

"God, you must want something bad to say yes to all that, Mr. Wheat Toast and Yogurt," Chris said.

"Just makin' sure you're keeping your strength up, Larabee," Vin said, Texas drawl soft and easy on Chris' ears. Vin reached up, pulling Chris' head down firmly but gently, mouth opened to claim his lips, tenderly at first then with more hunger that Chris was pretty sure would be cured by neither chili nor yogurt.

So there were other kinds of a food a man needed. Vin's fingers stroked across his side, almost tickling, then to his hip, pressure becoming firmer as he gripped Chris' ass, pulling him closer. The blanket twisted and bunched but there was no mistaking the hardness pressed against Chris' stomach for cloth.

Vin moved his mouth to Chris' throat, sucking and biting him carefully, little nips that were instantly soothed by the cool wetness of his tongue across each small mark. Smooth skin shifted under Chris' hands, Vin raising a knee to make a cradle of sorts, hissing softly in assent as their bodies became more pleasurably aligned.

Not one to let Vin get in all the good licks, Chris bent his head and tongued, then sucked on one small rose-brown nipple, almost gasping as Vin pressed up to rub their cocks together. The friction made Chris suck a breath then let it out, his breath washing over the still wet bud of flesh and it was Vin's turn to gasp softly and shudder.

So close and so good -- so fast but Chris didn't even think about drawing it out any longer. He pushed up with his arms, staring down at Vin's face, letting his partner keep their bodies in line with hands and legs. Chris' back arched slightly, bringing them in contact again, sensitive flesh quivering in reaction and sending a coil of heat up along his spine and through his groin.

One of Vin's hands was suddenly there, long fingers wrapped around both their cocks to stroke and rub, jacking them off in a steady, intense rhythm that had Chris groaning. He swore softly and bent his neck, Vin watching him and ready, mouths sealed together as their tongues danced and teased, Vin only tearing his mouth away as his spine arched him upward toward Chris, fingers tightening around them and Chris felt the build and break along his own nerves. Pure sensation ripped any thoughts from his brain and left him only with his five senses to sort out the rush of heat and pleasure, the feel of his blood pounding in his veins and his heart pounding in his chest.

There was moisture on his belly and the sharp scent of sex, musky and sweet. Vin panted in short, shallow breaths, every muscle taut as his orgasm washed through him. Chris could taste salt on his lips, eyes taking in the shuttered blue eyes and tense jaw - his own breathing easing as Vin relaxed beneath him and the blue eyes met his with mischief and something a lot deeper and warmer.

He relaxed as well, Vin's arm easing him down, rubbing across his back and up through his hair. He'd have been perfectly content to fall back asleep right there but after a few moments, Vin pushed a little and Chris eased to his side. He got another grin and the rough rub of stubble on his cheek before Vin kissed him deep and hard then rolled away and slid out of the bed, headed for the bathroom.

Chris only sighed a bit and pulled the pillow Vin had used to his chest, closing his eyes briefly and letting the pleasant aftermath of orgasm -- not to mention the fine view of Vin's naked body through the open door -- occupy his slowly recovering brain cells.

The sound of running water brought his attention to other needs and with a groan he got up as well to slip past Vin to get to the toilet. He shook his head when he Vin checked him out in the mirror. "Look the same as I did two minutes ago, Vin."

Vin gave him a wolfish grin and nodded. "That you do, cowboy. Just like what I see," he said and wiped his face before turning around to turn on the shower. "I'm gonna get the coffee on. Save me some hot water," he warned and headed out, not bothering to even grab a towel.

Chris saved him more than hot water but even so they both managed to get showered and at least partially dressed by the time the coffee was ready. Chris kept to the half made agreement, starting breakfast while Vin toweled his hair dry -- a task that took slightly more effort than was required of Chris to dry his own short, blond hair. He passed up the leftover chili, however, managing a mix of eggs and toast - wheat - for them, while Vin made short work of what was left of a half cantaloupe in the refrigerator that he did mix with yogurt. Chris requested his melon unpolluted, thank you.

No wonder at all why Vin always seemed to be fighting the slight side of the weight battle Chris had just the opposite problem with, watching Vin eat the light breakfast: one egg and a piece of toast to Chris' two of each, the fruit and yogurt. Chris was pretty convinced that were he to manage even a day without some kind of exercise, he'd end up showing the same rounded gut half his contemporaries did. Not that he was likely to get a chance to test that theory anytime soon.

Vin cleaned up, taking over the task easily and with the determination of a man who put fairness above all else. They didn't have much to say this early, even if Vin had been one who tended toward a lot of chit chat -- which he wasn't.

There was a time, though, Chris remembered, when this same kitchen had been full of early morning conversations. There had been teasing and talking as he and Sarah tried to organize their lives around Chris' job, what needed to get done and what their son needed -- be it play group or kindergarten or doctor's visits. All of it tumbled together with the kind of easy flirting and banked heat he shared with his wife. They'd been so young and still so much in love that it hadn't been something Chris had taken for granted either.

Vin was more likely to take his mornings quietly, choose his words carefully and use them sparingly. He hadn't fought at all for a larger part of Chris' life, didn't argue when what had started as a quick tumble for comfort and pleasure after one spectacularly stressful incident had become a semi regular thing, then became something a whole lot more than fuck between friends.

For Chris at least. Not that he doubted that Vin felt any less deeply, but Vin was a practical man and far less likely to torture himself with guilt or regrets than Chris was. Made for a nice balance in their relationship, Chris had to admit. In some ways it was a better balance than he'd had with Sarah. She had worried about the life he led, had been confused and sometimes hurt by Chris' black moods when something went wrong at work. She'd wanted to help, to ease his pain, his confusion.

And she had, God she had, kept him sane and human in a job where it was too easy for men to become hard and uncaring, to only see the bad side of human nature. Reminded him that it wasn't just a matter of bringing down the bad guys, that it was, at the base of it all, about protecting people. About protecting her and their son, and other people's wives and sons and husbands and daughters.

Then she was gone, Chris unable to protect either of them and Chris had found himself forgetting that all too quickly.

"Heavy thinking going on there, Chris," Vin's voice broke his thoughts and Chris glanced up to see Vin leaning against the counter, back to the sink. Their breakfast dishes were stacked up in the rack, blue and white towel thrown casually over Vin's shoulder and his jeans riding low on his hips as he sipped at what was left of his coffee. His hair had dried, still loose and tangled, curling around face and neck. Totally non regulation but Vin did enough under-cover work to be able to keep it that length.

"Some," Chris admitted, running a hand through his hair. He grinned at Vin. "That's what you get for keeping me so occupied most of the rest of the time. Have to exercise my brain cells once in awhile."

Vin snorted and shook his head, turning away to rinse out his cup. "We still got a fence to fix," he said, not pressing, a trait Chris was grateful for. Vin passed him, fingers briefly raking through Chris' tousled hair before leaving the kitchen. The touch was light, almost casual, only it wasn't. As with words, Vin Tanner didn't use physical contact casually.

Chris gave his partner a few minutes -- or maybe it was himself that needed them. They did have a fence to put in, upkeep and repair of Chris' ranch a fairly common way for both men to occupy their time even before they'd become lovers. Vin kept an apartment in town, in a rundown section of Denver called Purgatorio and Chris had seen barrios in bigger cities than Denver that didn't look quite so bad. Vin wouldn't leave although he could certainly afford to. Purgatorio had been his home for a lot longer than Chris had known him.

That much, at least, Chris understood. There had been times after Sarah and Adam died when he had been ready to throw this house, the land attached to it, and his job, to the first person to bid on it. For three years he'd lived with ghosts, battled demons, and been hell bent on killing himself by getting himself killed -- it had a been a miracle he hadn't. A bigger miracle that he hadn't managed to get someone else killed in the effort.

In the end, though, it was still home and as he gradually started to let loose his death's grip on the pain and grief and loss, he'd been able to recognize that. But the place had suffered for it. Buck had offered to help more than once and Chris had managed to allow that much -- to keep it from completely falling apart and finding a weekend here and there to get some minor but necessary repairs done, letting his friendship with Buck be the buffer between memories and necessity. That let him pry open the locked doors he'd left behind him. When the ATF offer had come up, Chris had taken it, taken Buck with him because he needed him in ways that Chris couldn't even voice. The job became important again and with each addition to his team, Chris had been forced to face up to the fact that self-destruction might be understood on his own behalf, but not when he had six other men looking to him to make the right decisions, not only for them, but for himself.

He'd still kept his distance though, until the anniversary of their first year together as a unit and Chris had finally given in to Buck's needling and offered his spread as a place for a cook-out. The week before, Buck came out, JD in tow, and Vin tagging along. They'd brought beer and much to Chris' surprise, paint.

"Place looks like shit, Chris," Buck told him, grinning like the devil. "Can't have company with the place looking like this. Sarah would never approve." Vin and JD had looked none too sure this grand scheme of Wilmington's wasn't going to get their asses kicked, if not chewed off.

It was close. Buck invoking his dead wife's name at any other time would have been likely to set Chris off in a rage of pain and anger. But even as he felt his body tense and his mouth open to scorch the paint in the cans Buck held, he realized it was all reaction, all habit. There was no real heat behind his feelings of loss: anger -- yes -- and grief. But they were more of an aching hollow feeling rather than darkness and pain.

And Buck had known. Knew too much sometimes, but he'd known and he'd gambled and known to the second that he'd been right to press that much.

They'd painted and cleaned, drank too many beers, told too many bad jokes and old stories and by the time they left on Sunday night, Chris felt like he'd reclaimed something. The cook-out had gone off without a hitch; just his team and their significant others if they had them, no one Chris didn't know, and pretty much everyone he cared about all in the same place.

Almost like it had been before -- once upon a time when Sarah and Adam had been his whole world, Buck his best friend and didn't it just makes sense that it would be Buck who would bridge the gap between Chris' old life and his new one?

Vin returned, wearing a T-shirt under a flannel shirt and settling into the kitchen chair opposite Chris and only eyeing him for a moment before bending over to pull on his boots and lace them up. "'m gonna load the tools in the truck. You okay?"

Chris nodded and got up. "Yeah, just thinking. Be out in a minute."

Vin nodded and left him, Chris listening to the back door close before heading to his bedroom to get dressed. True to his word, he was outside within five minutes, helping Vin load in the last of the tools and supplies into the back of his Ram. The lumber and wire were already in the back, Chris tossing work gloves and a small cooler on top of the rest.

It took them no more than twenty minutes cross the rutted and open land to get to the back side of the property. The fencing there had been put in first and was the oldest. Vin had noticed a few weeks ago that some of the posts had rotted and fallen over when they'd been riding. Hazard to hikers and animals, he'd commented and Chris had been quick to point out that there shouldn't be hikers on his land.

"Kind of hard to know it belongs to somebody if'n there's no fence," Vin said and had walked away from the conversation. Chris had been a bit annoyed, which was the real reason he'd said anything. Annoyed he'd let it go untended, because Vin was right. Annoyed because every time he put time and money and effort into the place he was brought back to why he'd bought it in the first place -- reasons that mostly were no longer there. He knew he should be moving on, finish the healing begun a year before and kept getting stuck on why he wasn't.

Which brought him back to Vin every damn time.

The cook-out the previous summer had been the point where he'd started healing, progress slow but there. The Friday following, Chris had managed to find time and the words to thank Buck and JD and Vin for their help, saying they'd be welcome anytime. Then he'd extended that invitation to Ezra and Nathan and Josiah and was a little surprised at himself when he realized he meant it.

He hadn't really expected anyone to take him up on it so soon.

The next day Vin had shown up alone, damned Harley making Chris think the Apocalypse had come when Vin roared up the gravel track. He'd been uncertain of his welcome, greeting a very sleepy and barely dressed Chris on the porch with a couple of thermal mugs of Starbuck's coffee and Danish.

"Noticed your barn could use some work, if you ever plan to put horses in there again," Vin had commented.

"Probably so."

"Needs work or you plannin' on getting some horses?" Vin had asked.

Chris had only stared at him then grinned. "Maybe both. Let me get dressed."

It had started so simply, just like that, Vin asking for nothing and doing no more than start regularly showing up to help Chris fix whatever needed to be fixed. Not every weekend and not much comment until Chris realized that Vin wanted and needed not just Chris' sometime taciturn company but the open space. Came to recognize in Vin some of the same needs Chris had when he'd bought a place this far away from the city. Vin had his own small patch of land, Chris knew, a nice place with a battered old RV and small lake -- further out than Chris' place but not nearly as large and with more neighbors.

Chris found himself liking the company. Vin was a hell of a lot quieter than Buck, didn't need to be entertained, and his sly sense of humor started showing up in unexpected ways, the same understated demeanor Chris saw on the job showing up in Vin's personality over the weeks and months that followed.

Vin's friendship had slipped into fill a part of the empty space Sarah and Adam had left without Chris even being aware. He found himself spending more time after work with his team, getting to know them in ways he hadn't before. His anger had eased, his short temper smoothed out, his sense of humor had suddenly emerged and no one was more surprised than his team. They worked together better than before, made fewer mistakes and while Chris still took every injury to one of his men personally, he found himself less likely to beat himself up about it, less likely to find solace in a bottle or on his own. He still carried the brunt of the guilt and the responsibility -- but not alone. Not any longer. Buck became the man he turned to when he needed to be talked out of a rage and Vin the one who was quick to offer a quick kick in the ass when that was needed.

Chris figured he was about as healed as he could expect to be.

"Think we can pull it or we need to use the truck chains?" Vin asked him as they found the first section of fencing needing to be replaced. "Looks like you're getting some drainage through here," he added, using the toe of his boot to kick away a pile of debris near the post they were checking.

Chris reached out and gave the post a shake, hearing wood splinter at the base. He knelt, feeling the sogginess of the ground and tracking the washed out bed of leaves and dying grasses. "Looks like. There's a creek about a mile uphill. Wonder if it's been flooding?" he asked aloud, not really expecting Vin to have an answer.

The softened ground was pretty evident, Chris biting the inside of his lip as he looked from fence to truck. The three lines of wire wrapped and nailed in place on the post were twisted, the lower one already half frayed from wear and tear and rust. "If they'll pull out easily with ropes, probably better. Truck might spin out on this ground and pull the whole damn thing down."

Vin nodded and went to the back of the truck to get ropes and their gloves, and the wire cutters, while Chris checked out the posts on either side and then walked the line a little further. He found six posts in the damaged section including the two that had completely rotted away and fallen over. They'd brought a dozen posts and Chris had no doubt he'd use them. By the time he returned, Vin had already cut the wires free on one side and knotted the ropes around the top of the rotting timber.

Putting on the other pair of gloves, Chris took one side of the rope and Vin the other, both men anchoring the lines around waists and over shoulders to give them the best leverage. Even so, they found the damp ground tough to get purchase on. Finally, though, they heard the wood splinter again and crack and the post snapped free, the sudden lack of resistance causing both men to stumble. Chris went to one knee and hip while Vin ended up flat on his back.

Vin got up quickly though, peeling off the now muddy flannel from his back. "You know...might have been a good idea to bring the horses up," he said, offering a hand to Chris.

"Now you think of it," Chris grumbled. He was soaked from hip to knee but it wouldn't kill him and the sun would dry them both out soon enough. He grabbed a shovel from the back of the truck to dig out what was left of the post while Vin rolled the old one and the attached wire up closer to the next post in the line.

They managed to get the next post out with a little less effort and without another tumble, wrapping the ropes around the Ram's bumper as a makeshift pulley. A little over an hour later they had all six posts free and the holes cleared. Chris reached into the cooler and tossed Vin a bottle of chilled water. They were both sweating, the sun rising high and warm. Vin took a long swallow then peeled off his gloves to pour some cold water onto his hands and raking them through his hair. He grinned at Chris and tossed him the bottle back.

Three hours later they had sunk the new posts and anchored them and strung new wire, carefully wrapping the ends into the old wire. Chris tied on a few bright yellow plastic ribbons to alert any would be hikers there was now a fence here again while Vin loaded up the tools.

Done, Chris headed to the truck, walking slow as Vin stopped to pull his sweat soaked and dirty T-shirt off, then plunge his hands into the ice melt at the bottom of the cooler, splashing face and chest with it and letting out a yelp.

"Got a perfectly good shower at the house," Chris reminded him and caught the beer Vin tossed him.

"Don't like cold showers and it's too hot for a hot one just yet," Vin said with a grin and took his beer and his shirt to the shade of a tree to sit down for a bit. Chris rummaged behind the seat and came up with a blanket, carrying it and his beer to the shady spot Vin had chosen. He nudged his lover with his boot. Vin shifted over and caught the blanket spreading it out on the ground for them to lay on. "And you call yourself a cowboy." He sat again, back against the narrow trunk of the tree.

"Nope. Only you and Buck do that," Chris said and stretched out on his stomach with a sigh, back muscles deciding to protest now that he wasn't really using them any more. "And I wish you'd stop."

Vin chuckled and took another long swallow from his beer. "Suits you, Chris. First time I saw you I was surprised you weren't wearing spurs. Walked like you were."

"Bad knee," Chris mumbled but he smiled. Meeting Vin wasn't a day he was likely to forget for all that it hadn't been that auspicious. It had been a joint operation -- US Marshals Special Operations Group and the ATF assisting the DEA on an interstate drug smuggling route that was being run of all places, along the railroad from Denver to El Paso. They'd bagged the shipment but were likely to lose at least a few of the runners until Vin had managed to blow out the tires on three cars in a little under ten seconds from 700 yards away. Six shots, six hits, and Chris had been impressed then, less impressed to walk into the middle of Tanner getting dressed down by his boss.

Turned out it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Tanner wasn't pleasing his bosses a lot -- cited frequently for not following orders. Still, Chris was impressed and a few days after the bust was locked down and solid, and Chris had had a chance to look over the man's personnel file, he'd called him, asked Vin to meet him for dinner.

Vin had suggested a mid-scale restaurant right on the edge of Denver's less savory side but the food had been good and the place obviously populated by regulars.

"That was hell of a set of shots you took, the other day. Nicely done," Chris commented over their salads. "Boss had a bit of a problem, though."

"Thanks," Vin said and shrugged. "Martin's all right -- just don't want any marks against him. He's supposed to retire in a few months. He was afraid I might hit something I wasn't supposed to."

"Like what?"

Vin had smiled a little at Chris' curiosity. "Didn't check out the rail cars close by, did you?"

Chris had to think, summoning up the yard, the four cars the runners had brought, a half dozen enforcement vehicles. There had been rail cars parked on spur lines but he hadn't really paid too much mind to them once the shooting started. Maybe he should have.

"Acetylene," Vin said. "Tank car about sixty feet from the runners."

Now that Vin had said it, Chris could see the car in his mind, see the big warning sign on the side of the rounded tanker.

"Martin was afraid you'd hit it?"

Vin shrugged again. "Maybe. Or that something would ricochet. Would have stopped 'em if it had...but, it would have been a mess."

"Was there a chance you'd miss?" Chris asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't usually."

Chris almost laughed because Vin Tanner was obviously teasing him, with the easy confidence of a man who knew his own skill and the limits of it. "How many times have you missed?"

Vin gave it some thought. "Since I've been with the Marshals? Maybe...twice," he said after a moment. "That's, of course, only counting the times they've given the order to shoot," he added and leaned back as well so the waitress could clear their salads and bring their entrees.

Chris had read the man's file. He was teasing, but he wasn't off his count by much, not stationed as a sniper.

"You've been cited for not following orders," Chris murmured.

"I follow orders. Just not stupid ones," Vin said and turned his attention to his meal, but not before Chris saw the flare of defiance in the blue eyes.

The US Marshals weren't known for their encouragement of free-thinkers and Chris knew, without Vin saying a word, that while the man's abilities were being stifled by his superiors, they hadn't managed to put a dent in his devotion to duty. By the time they finished their meal and Chris was walking Vin out to his car, he'd made the offer.

Vin had been surprised and Chris didn't get an answer right away. Vin had asked for a few days to think on it, but by five the next day he'd gotten a call from Vin asking if the offer was still good.

It was and two weeks later Vin Tanner walked into the 11th floor of the Federal building, dropped off his gear on the empty desk, turned his paperwork into Chris and been introduced to his colleagues. After a day of bureau indoctrination, he'd been given a different indoctrination by his new teammates, Buck Wilmington buying the first round. Chris had left after the third but he'd offered no rescue for his newest man. The next day, in true ATF fashion, Vin filled out paperwork with, what he later admitted was, the worst hangover he'd ever had. Buck Wilmington had been both impressed and proud.

Vin had settled in pretty quickly -- almost as quiet as Josiah but it hadn't taken long for that a same wicked sense of humor that had caught Chris' attention to show up, and both Buck and Ezra had to do some serious fighting to maintain their positions as chief pranksters.

If Vin had been nervous on his first field assignment, it didn't show, and he proved himself right: he could follow orders, as long as they weren't stupid. He also didn't challenge the ones he thought were stupid in any way that would undermine Chris' authority and it wasn't too long before Chris got used to hearing Vin's quiet questions and suggestions in his ear. Even less time to come to rely on them as much as he did Josiah's insights into the criminals they were working against or Ezra's sometimes out of left field but usually accurate estimations of dicey situations.

It was almost as if Vin had been the last piece to fit into a puzzle that wasn't quite whole. At the end of six months, everyone settled and while Buck still held the second in command position in the field, more often it was Vin that managed to listen to everything. Vin who picked up on details Chris might miss in his sometimes overwhelming job of putting the pieces together, and in other ways became both a sounding board and a silent immovable shadow to Chris, watching his back both in the office and in the field.

And Buck had stepped a little to one side to let Chris and Vin's friendship grow without a word or a hint of jealousy. Chris wasn't the same man Buck had grown up with, served with, chased women and adventure with. It had started to change when Chris fell in love and got married. It had changed more when he'd lost his wife and child and what Buck had to offer wasn't what Chris needed any longer -- or at least not all the time. He didn't need to be teased, cajoled or joked out of his moods -- and he didn't really need to escape them by drinking either which was Buck's end-all cure for just about everything. Chris hadn't known what it was and neither did Buck, but somehow Vin managed to fit the now empty space and do it without trying to crowd Buck out of his long standing relationship with Chris.

Vin had managed to just know when Chris wanted company but not necessarily talk. When he needed to be occupied but not distracted. He'd managed to smooth the rough edges without trying.

And gradually, Chris had noticed, between his place on the team, his friendship with Chris and finally finding an organization and a situation that didn't try so hard to make him care more about regulations, bureaucracy and other people's agendas than his job, Vin found a place to belong too.

Chris felt Vin's fingers thread through his hair, the touch soothing and familiar. Meeting Vin had been one of those things that made him actually believe there might be a God after all. Surviving his stint with the SEALs had been the first -- more than once Chris had been certain he really would end up being one of the men who gave his life for his country. He might yet, he knew. Sarah had been the second time and Adam the third and when he'd lost them, he'd lost faith in anything and everything. Buck had managed to bring some of it back, standing by Chris through the worst time of his life. And just when Chris started to breathe again, Vin had come along. He still wasn't entirely sure what this relationship was going to look like -- but he found himself thanking God a little more frequently for it even while he was waiting for it all to be snatched away again.

Being in a relationship with another man hadn't ever been on Chris' list of things to do. He'd never actively avoided it -- it just had never really presented itself as an option until Vin. Just a little over a month ago Vin had admitted that he'd almost turned down Chris' offer to join the team.

"Wasn't expecting it," he'd said after dinner one night, both of them sacked out on the sofa watching something, Vin's head in Chris' lap. "When you called, I thought you were calling to ask me out."

"You mean like on a date?"

Vin grinned up at him. "No, to look at curtains, you asshole. Of course a date. Thought about it when Martin was dressing me down and you had this look on your face. I didn't hear half of what he said."

"What kind of look?"

Vin shrugged. "Dunno...just like you'd been looking for me. I was pretty ready to be found."

"Didn't have a clue, Vin," Chris said softly stroking the dark hair back from Vin's forehead. "Did want you -- just not for that reason. This reason. Not then."

"Took me about two minutes to figure that out. Didn't know you were recruiting though."

Chris thought about it, studying Vin's upturned face, chewing on his lip. "You...you almost turned me down, didn't you? Needed to think about it."

Vin nodded. "Yeah. Had to. Had to make sure I could work with you and not let the other interfere."

Chris smiled at that and bent his head, barely brushing his lips over Vin's. "I think maybe I was lookin' for you for all those reasons and just didn't know it. Glad you took the chance, Tanner."

"Weren't no risk for me, Chris. Still isn't," Vin said and met him more than half way, as he always did. They hadn't done much more talking that night.

Later, laying in bed, Chris watching Vin sleep, he wondered how he could have been so oblivious the first year Vin had been with the team. He had been though. Missed it entirely or more likely, Vin hadn't been putting anything out there for Chris to see, but maybe other people had noticed. In all the times Vin had come to the ranch, spent the weekend, slept in the spare room or on the couch, Chris had been clueless.

And then, he had to admit, just as he thought he and his team were hitting their stride, it had all come apart and he'd been too distracted to notice much of anything but his world coming down around his ears.

Team 7 had been working smooth as silk, a well tuned machine that built up citations and commendations almost as fast as they built up hospital bills. Cases stalled for months suddenly broke and whether by luck or skill or both, Team 7 suddenly had a rep and had set a standard of excellence that other ATF teams found hard to live up to.

Had any of the other divisions bothered to check either the facts or their egos, they might have realized that it wasn't just the team, it was how the team had been put together and who had done the picking. Chris became aware of rumblings and rumors only peripherally. He'd been startled to find himself called up to face a "casual" inquiry into one of his team -- namely Ezra Standish -- to answer for allegations of misconduct and bribery: the same kind of crap that had followed Ezra from the Atlanta division of the FBI a year earlier. Rumor and allegations Chris thought put to bed because there had never been any evidence and no formal charges laid.

Chris wasn't blind or stupid. Ezra could work every angle imaginable including ones no one would have thought of. He'd bend rules, slip around them, but to outright break them, take a bribe or pocket a payoff was so far off the mark, Chris had barely managed not to blast the inquiry board back to D.C. That storm had barely broken when the next came up, this time aimed at Nathan, allegations of misadministering drugs and possibly selling them. Another bit of total bullshit that Chris was having a hard time believing anyone would buy into. Nathan was primarily an agent -- that he had maintained certification as an EMT because of his job had only managed to make the team that much better. In another lifetime the man would have been a doctor if he could have, but he wasn't -- he'd shifted from army medic to law enforcement to the ATF in logical progression of promotions and skill.

Then their cases started falling apart: A suspect was tipped off before concluding a buy Ezra had worked months on. A gang talk-down went horribly badly wrong when nine teenagers showed up with more firepower than they should have had access to. Four fatalities among the teens which made Chris seethe with anger and frustration and guilt. Josiah down and nearly crippled when one of the teens turned on him as having ratted them out when all he'd been trying to do was get them out and away from the drug dealer who was using the boys to front his own activities.

The rumors kept flying, one allegation pegging Buck as having gotten a little too rough with one of his dates, a rumor that left Buck shocked and aggravated when the women in the office started giving him odd looks. Another pegged JD as hacking into classified sites requiring the young man to spend weeks identifying every tracked lead and program that had gone through the ATF computer system since he'd been hired.

Then the rumors started that the only reason Vin Tanner had any business on the team at all was because he was sleeping with his boss, his frequent trips out to Chris' ranch having drawn some attention, plus the fact that where Chris was, usually Vin wasn't far behind.

Chris had been first amused then worried by the allegations. Vin put some distance between them, suffered under private invectives of "faggot" and "cocksucker" and of being "Larabee's lapdog" with a whole lot more calm than Chris thought he'd have managed. But when it came up, when he and Vin were called up to officially deny the allegations, they both were able to do so without a single untruth.

Still, the distance crept in and Chris watched a friendship he'd come to rely on fall apart and with it everything else seemed to fall apart as well. Just when he thought he was back on steady ground.

One case after another seemed to just disintegrate or go wrong. Misinformation, bad leads, missing pieces of information, until JD had, in his never ending desire to perfect his hacking skills, managed to detect the fact that someone was routinely and regularly going through their files. Ezra had found the bugs in the conference room a week later and at Chris' caution let them be.

One call to Orrin Travis and suddenly Internal Affairs was all over them -- for once not trying to dig up the dirt on Chris and his team but on whoever was willfully and deliberately trying to sabotage Team 7's operations from within the ATF and treasury department.

Enough information and Chris had agreed to a sting -- and agreed not to tip off his team. He'd been furious that a dirty agent had been trying to make his own team look bad, endangering their lives. He'd wanted whoever it was so bad, he'd managed to convince himself that the less his team knew the better. Internal Affairs held their findings too close for him, but he'd agreed and later wondered if it were possible his anger had put his team at more risk than the saboteur.

They set out the bait: A drug bust faked from the first, IA setting up the sting as carefully as any other ATF operation -- or so they'd thought. Ezra hadn't known the "seller" was from within the Treasury department. That was supposed to be it. They'd feed the false information through normal channels and see who nibbled.

The seller waited for the tip off and got it, leading the IA to one Jimmy Nash, an agent passed over three times for promotion because of his devil the details attitude and recklessness. His own boss had kept him on a short leash, and he'd applied for a transfer to Team 7 six months earlier and been denied before Chris even saw the application.

He'd been riding communications and intel since then, his boss hoping he'd understand how important the details he'd ignored were. It hadn't worked and he'd started to think maybe he couldn't get off a desk because there were no slots open on Chris' team. He'd thought he'd make one and try again.

Nash had realized he'd been tagged only minutes before IA got to him and suddenly Chris and his team and the Treasury agents found themselves facing off with jumpy bunch of Denver's finest, who had responded to a "shots fired, officer down call", while Nash slipped his post -- if not his grip on sanity.

The APB on Nash was out within the hour, his apartment watched, the airport, highway patrol alerted -- everything that could be done and even so, Chris knew it was all too easy for a single man to slip out of the area and disappear.

It had taken hours for them to get it sorted out with the police, Chris' team finding out the hard way that the whole setup had been faked and none too happy with their boss for keeping them out of it. It took a tongue lashing from Buck and few short terse words from Vin to make Chris realize he may well have irreparably damaged the very thing he'd been trying to protect.

He'd kicked himself soundly, apologized to the team both as a group and in private then asked them to set it aside and help them clear the black marks from their names and reputations. Then silently promised himself he wouldn't ever lie to them again.

But the specter of failure had been erased and they had all dug in to close those mangled cases with a single mindedness that had become a team trademark. Only the team itself wasn't functioning quite as smoothly. Chris' hadn't trusted them with the truth, agreeing too easily to IA's insistence that until the leak was plugged, everyone was still a suspect

They'd done it though, brought their case closed record back up to par. There were only a few cases left open to close so they could finally banish the last of the persistent rumors that while Team 7 had a great arrest record: wasn't it just too bad that a few of their more high profile cases remained open and my, wonder what could cause that--If not kickbacks or payoffs? And Chris was back to facing the reality of just how easily admiration could turn to envy and suspicion. Nash had maybe been the only one to actively turn that envy into something more dangerous, but it was still out there.

They'd finally managed to get a break on one of their pending cases -- once more going after Reed Wolverton who was using local gang activity to cover up his drug business. They thought it was a done deal -- still cautious and careful, all weapons down and Wolverton in handcuffs when the shooting had started.

Wolverton had been the first to go down in a short burst of automatic weapons fire that sent Chris and Ezra and Buck scrambling for cover, the gang members scattering like mice under the cover fire the ATF agents laid down, not sure exactly who was shooting at them.

Vin had been high, keeping to the catwalk in the warehouse, playing eye of god, and before Chris could even ask him, they'd heard the shots and the clatter of metal hitting the struts when Vin's rifle fell from his perch to the ground.

"Vin!" Chris hissed into his headset.

"Missing your lapdog, Larabee?" It wasn't Vin's voice and Chris had looked up, anger and anxiety jockeying for positions in his brain. Nash was up there holding a gun to the head of their already bleeding sharpshooter. Vin still had his flak jacket on but there was blood on his jeans below the protection of the Kevlar. His headset was missing and his hands were securely cuffed behind him.

"There's no point to this, Nash!" Chris yelled.

"Probably not, but then for me, there's not much point to anything anymore, thanks to you. What did I need to do, Larabee? Ask you to fuck me the way Tanner did? Didn't see that one on the transfer application: 'Will fuck boss for favors'."

"Nash, I never saw the transfer request," Chris said, forcing calm into his voice, not daring to watch Ezra move into position or Nathan backing him up. He could hear their whispered plans and prayed he could keep Nash's attention long enough for Ezra to get off the shot. "And this is a whole lot more serious than just messing with our reps."

"Either way I'm going to do some time after giving the better part of my life to this fucking agency!" Nash yelled. "You tell me how that's supposed to make me feel better, Larabee!"

"There's other ways out of this, Agent Nash!" Josiah had called out, shifting Nash's attention from Chris to himself. "The bureau takes care of its own and you are one of us."

//Keep him talking, Josiah,// Chris had pleaded silently, knowing the angle was bad for Ezra and cursing the fact that Nash hadn't shifted his gun one inch from the side of Vin's head. Chris had moved then, into the open space, ignoring Buck's hissed warning. "This isn't what you signed up for, Nash," Chris called.

"I wanted to be...I didn't get in this for the paycheck," Nash said, voice shaking with some emotion but all Chris could hear was anger and desperation.

Chris could see Vin's face, see the strain there as he tried to keep the weight off his injured leg. He'd met Chris' eyes, then dropped his gaze and up again. Chris was already screaming Vin's name, screaming warning, afraid Vin planned to take both Nash and himself over the edge of the catwalk.

Vin hadn't been planning anything quite that stupid or suicidal. He did drop though, dead weight throwing Nash off balance. Nash's gun had gone off a split second before Chris, Ezra and Buck opened fire. They were only lucky one of them didn't hit Nash in the head. Body shots had stunned him, even with his vest, and then Ezra had been there, making sure Nash didn't move, Nathan calling JD to summon an ambulance or two and then helping Vin get clear of the dead weight of the unconscious man.

The catwalk looked barely strong enough to hold the weight it now bore but it didn't stop Chris from hitting the stairs two at a time to support Vin while Nathan unlocked the cuffs. "Went clean through," Nathan warned Chris and then it was just a matter of getting Vin down, carried between Chris and Josiah while Buck went up to make sure they got Nash down as well.

"Easier to get him down if he's dead," Buck had spat but Nash was alive. No promises if he'd survive the four bullets he'd taken, but by the time the paramedics had arrived he was still breathing.

"Came through the roof trap," Vin hissed as the paramedics cut the denim away and bandaged the wound enough for transport. Josiah had helped him get the vest off so he could be checked for other injuries. Other than the hole in his leg, a bruise to his jaw and a couple of scrapes from hitting the floor of the catwalk, Vin seemed okay. He was furious though, grabbing the front of Chris' jacket. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Larabee, stepping to center like that? The asshole is a marksman, for God's sake!"

Chris had been startled, but recognized fear masquerading as anger as well as any man. He'd caught Vin's hand, pulling it away from his jacket and folding his fingers around the cold palm. "And I thought you were going to take a header off the catwalk and take Nash with you," he said. "Glad you are smarter than that."

Vin stared at him, Chris pretty sure the younger man saw the same fear reflected in his own eyes. "I'm smarter than that too, Vin. I figured you had a plan, just needed to make sure I knew what it was," he said and grinned.

"Shit," Vin said and looked away. "Swear to God, Larabee, one of these days, I'm going to kill you myself."

Chris had let him go, let the medics do what they needed to and sent Josiah with him then made his preliminary report before heading to the hospital. Vin had been patched up, relegated to a room for observation and been given something for pain. Nash was in critical but stable condition and under guard.

The duty nurse, Caroline, hadn't been surprised to see him. There were days when Chris really thought they just ought to have the ATF pay for the nursing staff at Mercy if only because they seemed to know his entire team by first name, social security number and blood type. Caroline gave him the spiel: Visiting hours would be over soon, yes, Agent Larabee, we can have a cot brought in as needed and can't you boys stay out of trouble?

Vin had been half asleep, Josiah reading to himself, but he got up and went to get coffee so Chris could have a few minutes. Another hour and the team started checking in, Vin suffering through their checks with barely civil amusement. He managed a prelim report, reported one shot fired from his rifle -- somewhere in the roof no doubt, then Caroline came and chased all of them out save one, Ezra this time, so Chris could get started on his reports.

Wasn't in the regs, but it always happened. One of them got hurt and one of them stayed, always, at least the first night or so. Chris had never mandated it but early on he'd been the one to stay until the others realized that spoken or not, that was part of the way Chris Larabee ran his team.

And when it was Chris, the times he'd taken bad hits -- and there had been more than he had any right to have survived -- usually there were two or three of them hanging around.

By the time Chris got back at midnight he was tired and frustrated and a little annoyed. JD had tapes of all the transmissions during the exchange and they'd hauled a transcriptionist out of bed to get the entire tape transcribed before the operational review in the morning. Prelim reports were already done, except for Ezra's, and he promised Chris he'd have it by the review at ten.

Vin was asleep and Ezra shifted to the doorway. "Dropped off a couple of hours ago and hasn't really woken since," he said, his southern drawl as soothing on Chris' nerves as Vin's broader dialect. "Do you need me to procure something more suitable for you to wear tomorrow?" he'd asked.

"I dunno, Ez. Gonna lend me one of your silk suits?" Chris asked, with a grin.

Ezra returned his smile, green eyes bright with humor. "Possibly something fire retardant. This isn't going to make anyone happy," he said quietly.

Chris sighed. "No. It isn't. Not even me. I never thought there was a something as being too good at your job."

"It isn't so much that we are too good, Chris," Ezra said carefully. "As others are not nearly so competent."

"You were more than competent tonight, Ezra. Thanks."

Ezra, like Vin, wasn't one to let other folks see too much of what he felt, but Chris saw a bit of surprise there. "Get some rest," he said. "It's a prelim report so don't spend too much time on it tonight. I'm sure they're gonna want to wring details out of our brains before this is done."

"Still can't argue the truth," Ezra said. "You certain I can't bring you anything in the morning?"

Chris shook his head and squeezed Ezra's shoulder. "Naw. Got clean clothes in my office. I'll change there before the review."

Ezra nodded and left him, Chris leaning against the door for a few moments watching Vin sleep before finally settling into the padded chair beside the bed.

Vin had been released two days later, on crutches but relatively mobile and self-sufficient. He'd opted to stay with Josiah until he was back on his feet -- the four flights to his apartment in Purgatorio a little much to take and Josiah's house had a bedroom on the ground floor. Chris had offered to take him back to the ranch and felt a little hurt when Vin turned him down.

It turned out to be a better choice. The Department was embarrassed and shaken by Nash, all divisions almost immediately rostered in for mandatory psych evaluations -- which most people hated and in some cases, unfairly blamed on Team 7. A.D. Travis stepped in to take some of the heat and some of the flack.

But he couldn't take all of it and the worst of it was that once the tapes were transcribed rumors started circulating about Chris and Vin again.

Chris caught only the edge of it. A few sly comments tossed his way in the bimonthly senior staff meeting. Some ribbing about changing games as a midlife crisis kind of thing from a supervisor who, up until that point, Chris had thought he was on good terms with. Teasing in the gym about Chris needing to keep up with someone younger.

Most of it wasn't actually intended maliciously. It was the kind of teasing that almost said his peers didn't buy the rumors at all --- expressing disbelief by the mere act of making it a joke. It took a while for Chris to realize Vin was catching a much more intense and less face saving kind of harassment.

Not that he could really be blamed for not hearing about it sooner. Vin didn't come running to Chris or to anyone to beg them to have people stop picking on him. After a week with Josiah, he went home and turned Chris down flat for an invitation to come out to the ranch.

The first time had hurt Chris feelings a little, the second time made him a little angry. Vin came to work, did his job although for another few weeks his job was mostly riding a desk, which he hated. Chris was careful not to dump too much of the report work on him -- Vin's file already showed he was dyslexic although he'd managed to overcome the bulk of it on sheer willpower alone. What reports had to be typed, he'd dictated until JD had managed to opt in on a test run for some voice to text software.

After work, Vin would head out, ditching invitations to go out with the team, and even that Chris was first willing to write off to the fact that he was still recovering from his leg wound. By the end of the second week, however, Chris was beginning to wonder how he'd ever thought Vin to be closed mouthed before. Getting more than three words out of him a day that weren't "yes, sir" or "no, sir" took some serious effort. He seemed to be avoiding Chris even more specifically than he was the rest of the team. Asking him what was wrong got Chris nowhere.

Three weeks after they'd taken Nash, Chris finally realized that it wasn't that Vin was angry with him, he was only doing his damnedest to protect him. A scuffle in the gym left a member of Team 4 with a sprained wrist and a black eye and that only because Vin had pulled his punches and the idiot had fallen over a weight bench. At the internal inquiry Vin said only it was some horseplay that got out of hand. Joey Luca had a different story to tell: he accused Vin of coming on to him in the gym.

Vin denied it and Chris believed him and with no other witnesses, it had been dropped with a reprimand in both their files. Still, Chris thought it was an ugly sentiment to have started a fight and he couldn't quite see Vin striking out just because of some name calling.

Which lead him to the logical conclusion that there was more to it. A word to Buck and then to Ezra and it didn't take long for them or Chris to realize that the harassment Vin was taking was neither minor nor even of the cruel but harmless kind.

Name calling was the least of it. Chris wasn't surprised at the level of homophobia but it hardly seemed to be the kind of thing that Nash could have instigated alone and then grown so out of hand on its own. Ezra managed to catch Vin covering the seat of his Wrangler with a blanket. Puzzled he'd waited for Vin to head upstairs before checking the open jeep. The wet paint was smeared but "Larabee's Lapdog" could still be made out. Buck observed Vin deliberately shoved twice by other agents, the third time he stepped in and Vin took about two seconds to realize he was being dogged.

"Don't have to take this kind of bullshit, Vin," Buck had said.

"Well, no, Buck, I could file a report with my supervisor and wouldn't that just make them stop?" Vin had hissed. "Just leave it. Eventually they'll get tired of it." He stalked off and left Buck angry and confused by his reaction. Maybe if Vin had hit Luca a little harder they'd have backed off.

Or Vin would have had another reprimand dropped in his file.

It wasn't how Buck would have handled it, he told Chris, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do if the rumors had been about he and Chris and he was certain there were a few. Laughed them off and Vin had done the same thing when they first started.

However, after talking to Ezra, Buck wasn't sure it wasn't extending outside the building as well. Nothing to do but follow Vin home and they did.

Buck had been to Vin's apartment several times and wondered if the landlord hadn't finally decided that a coat of paint would be a good thing -- only the new paint only covered the hallway outside Vin's door -- and the door had been painted too -- recently, and the lock looked brand new. Nothing much to see and with the full knowledge that Vin might well blast them both, Buck knocked.

Vin had answered the door, tense and wary, relaxing only fractionally when he saw his guests but he didn't let them in.

"I asked you to let it go, Buck."

"Yeah, you did," Buck said. "Nice paint job in the hall, Vin. Redecorating?"

"I'd pick a cheerier color if I were you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said and tried to lean against the doorframe. Vin shifted to block his view and suddenly Buck was shouldering his way past Vin.

Past times Buck would say Vin's apartment was low rent but clean. Neat. He lived on the spare side and the neighborhood alone would be enough to keep Vin from buying anything too expensive.

It had been trashed. There was evidence of a partial clean up, one wall half painted, the other still covered in obscenities and graffiti.

"I take it this isn't a prank by some of your younger neighbors, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked quietly.

Vin closed his eyes briefly and then backed way, dropping heavily onto the sofa and propping his bad leg out on the coffee table. "They're lucky to have enough money to get lunches at school, Ez. Spray paint is expensive. The kids are okay."

Buck was looking still and homed in on a stack of packing boxes and videotapes and a couple of longer packages.

"Someone 's been sending me presents," Vin said as Buck picked up three boxes still sealed in their shrink wrap. Gay porn. Fairly graphic if the descriptions and pictures were anything to go by.

Ezra managed to check out something else and had the big card in his hand before Vin could snatch it back. "Ezra, don't--" he warned.

"Too late, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said softly, glancing at the modified photograph -- also graphic -- of two men fucking. Where the faces of the original models had been someone had clipped out photographs of Chris and Vin and pasted them in place. It looked to be from the photograph Rain Jackson had taken at the Team cookout.

"Stole the picture out of my locker," Vin said and held his hand out. Ezra gave him back the card and the photograph and watched while Vin tore it into small pieces.

"Gone too far, Vin," Buck said, setting the tapes down.

Vin shook his head. "Jesus, Buck...I report this and Chris is going to go ballistic which is just going to add fuel to the fire..."

Ezra sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table. It barely looked sturdy enough to bear his weight. "As well he should. And I'd much rather see Chris go ballistic on the ..." He gestured to the room, "miscreants who've done this damage than see them get any more creative with their harassment. These aren't the kind of men we want to serve with, Vin. And in all honesty, I don't think they are the kind of agents the bureau wants serving."

Vin had only rubbed his hand across his face while Buck and Ezra waited for his decision. "I could go directly to Travis."

"Don't cut Chris out of this, Vin," Buck warned, laying a big hand on Vin's shoulder. "He's feeling shut out enough and trust me, pard, that's cutting a lot deeper than anything these pricks can do."

It wasn't the call Chris wanted to get but he was still glad he had, especially after he reached Vin's place and found the three of them waiting. Vin said nothing at first then shook his head. "Buck said I should call," he said and Chris nodded.

"Buck, get a team up here and somebody impartial to take Vin's statement," he'd said and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Vin to wait.

Hours later the last of the crime scene team had left, no one from Team 7 lifting a finger to help. Formal charges would be laid the next day, based on Vin's information -- names, times, incidents. Chris was only glad it hadn't escalated any further.

Buck and Ezra left when the forensic teams did and Vin finally got up and offered Chris a beer. "Wish you'd said something, Vin."

"I figured they'd stop eventually. Usually do," Vin said, hoisting himself up on the kitchen counter so Chris could have the single bar stool.

"What did Luca say to you? Really?" Chris asked, turning the bottle of beer around on the counter top.

Vin was silent a long time but finally took a breath and drew one knee up, leaning back against the cabinet doors. "He wanted to know if you liked being top or bottom and if I took either position because I liked them or because you were my boss. Then he offered to let me suck his dick and he'd get the others to back off."

"Jesus, Vin. He's lucky you didn't take his head off."

Vin smiled a little and sipped his beer. "I told him yes. He swung first."

Chris stared and then seeing Vin's mouth twitch, started laughing. "Oh, Christ, Tanner. You did, didn't you? Scared the beejesus out of him."

"Something like it. I think I said something about that being in the reg book as soliciting a fellow agent."

Chris chuckled again, wiping at his eyes so he could see and noticed Vin actually looked like he was relaxing for the first time since the shooting. "Vin, I'm sorry..."

"Not your fault, Larabee." Vin cut him off so fast Chris blinked.

"Maybe not but I'm still sorry you had to--"

"Drop it, Chris. Please," Vin said and slid off the counter. "It's done. I should have said something sooner but..." Vin shook his head sweeping his hair back off his face. "It's only going to stop them from ...pulling this kind of bullshit pranks. It's not going to change anyone's mind. People think what they think."

"I guess that's the freedom of speech part of the constitution," Chris said, after a moment. He finished his beer.

"Protect and defend, cowboy," Vin said.

"You want to come out to the ranch?" Chris offered again, looking around at the room.

Vin hesitated and than shook his head. "Paint and lies, Chris. I'm not going to have any trouble sleeping."

Chris had felt that rejection pretty sharply, then was surprised to feel Vin's hand on his shoulder. Man could move quiet as a cat when he wanted to.

"I'll come out this weekend, Chris. Wanted to...before, when you asked, but I thought the less things for folks to talk about, the faster it'd blow over." Vin squeezed his shoulder than dropped his hand.

Chris nodded, accepting the explanation and even understanding a little. He moved a little closer, wrapping an arm around Vin's neck and the other around his back, hugging him tightly for a moment before letting go. "We're a team, Vin. You and me. All of us. Need to remember that."

"Yeah," Vin said and patted Chris' stomach. "Get going, Chris. You've got a long drive unless..." He gestured, crooked smile on his face. "…you want to crash here?"

"I think I'll pass, this time," Chris said, hooking his fingers around the back of Vin's neck and shaking him a little. "See you tomorrow." He pulled Vin toward him then, not sure where the impulse came from, to kiss Vin's forehead -- a gesture not so unfamiliar to him a few years before. With Buck, with his brother or father.

He startled Vin though, catching the edge of his mouth when Vin had raised his head. No more than a few seconds had passed before Vin jerked back, eyes wide.

Chris hadn't thought anything of it at first, a little confused by Vin's surprise but figuring he was jittery and tired.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Chris. Thanks," Vin said, looking more composed and he'd followed Chris to the door watching him downstairs and not closing it until Chris turned the corner on the stairwell. Once on the street Chris had glanced up, seen a shadow against the light in Vin's apartment and crossed the street to his truck.

For once, tired as he was, he needed the long drive home. It took half of it for him to let the anger he'd been feeling on seeing the wreckage of Vin's apartment work its way through him. He'd been appalled and disturbed by the obscenities and profanities scrawled on the walls, the tapes and pictures and sex toys Vin had been getting on a fairly regular basis over the last few weeks. No matter what he felt now, he didn't want to be gunning for more than reprimands and jobs on facing the review board the next day. It took another little while to make sure that his anger and frustration at Vin and his single-minded and misguided desire to protect Chris had worked its way out as well. He was angry at Vin but only because the man had been too damn stubborn to ask for help when he needed it. Angry at Vin for shutting him out, for putting his pride in front of their friendship. He was nearly to the last turn-off toward his place before he had to admit that had it been the other way around, he'd most likely have done the same thing. Only, in his case, there would have been a few more bloody noses, black eyes and possibly even some bone breakage along the way.

Not until he'd been pulling up the unlit road toward the house had he replayed the last few minutes at Vin's place in his head. Vin had jerked back like he'd been shocked, scared even, although Chris had a hard time believing Vin Tanner had been scared of a kiss from a friend, even on the mouth. Which it hadn't exactly been.

Jumpy and skittish and no wonder. Probably figured somewhere, someone was taking pictures.

Chris hadn't thought of it again until several days later. The inquiry had gone off easily enough. It was pretty difficult to deny allegations of misconduct when the proof started coming in by the cartload. Credit card slips showing purchases of the porn and sex aids. They thought they had Vin cowed -- and they had been stupid and inexperienced and most of all, hateful enough to be careless. Afterwards, Chris had briefed the whole team and reminded them of the same thing he'd told Vin. They were a team and the fastest way to break them up was if anyone on the team forgot it.

The department issued an official apology to Vin and to Chris. The reprimand was removed from Vin's records and that weekend Vin came to the ranch as promised. They didn't talk much about any of it, took a ride up along the ridge, Chris let Vin cook and then beat him at four out of five games of checkers. He gave Vin plenty of time to be on his own, hoping the near wilderness could smooth out the rest of the rough edges left by stress.

When Vin got home, he found his apartment freshly painted -- Chris well aware of how the rest of the team spent their weekend.

By Tuesday, it looked like Vin was back as he had been. By way of thanks to Buck and Ezra, they found packages on their desks -- Vin sharing his video tape "presents" with a wink and a lot of laughter by the rest of the team.

Buck told Chris later that he'd also gotten tickets to the opening game of the Broncos and Chris was in the parking deck when Ezra found a bottle of fairly impressive looking wine on the front seat of his Jag -- although he seemed more impressed that Vin had managed to bypass not only the locks, but the alarms, than by the wine.

Chris wasn't particularly surprised.

He was a little more surprised to find a set of hand hammer-patterned stirrups arrive on his doorstep a week later with a hand written note from Vin. The stirrups were nicely made and Chris' were worn as was the saddle. But the note meant more, given the difficulty Vin had writing anything down.

He hadn't said anything except thanks the next time Vin came out, new stirrups in place when they went riding.

Chris thought it was settled. The team got back to work, Vin seemed okay. He came out to the ranch but not as often, something Chris didn't notice right off or if he did, tried not to read too much into. But he was far more alert to how Vin's frame of mind worked itself out in behavior. It wasn't the team or the ranch Vin was avoiding -- it was Chris, just not as obviously.

On ops he was still another viewpoint in Chris' ear, at the office he was still finding time to cover the details with Buck when Chris couldn't. He and Ezra seemed to have built a far more solid friendship out of the whole mess and Chris tried to be as understanding about that as Buck had been about Chris and Vin.

But something was still not right and Chris, after spending some time trying to work it out, decided the best way was to ask Vin directly again -- and privately. A month prior Vin had offered to help Chris with some roof work -- and for the first time since they'd met, Chris actively pursued a casual offer made by Vin.

Vin had agreed, following Chris home on Friday after work and tossing his stuff in the spare room, then headed out while Chris started dinner. He was back in only a few minutes.

"Thought I'd lay out the supplies for tomorrow. They in your truck?"

"Have to get 'em tomorrow," Chris said. "It's just one section. Won't take us long."

Vin had shrugged and washed up. Dinner hadn't been much to speak of but afterward they took their cups out on the porch to watch the sun fade.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong this time, Vin?" Chris asked, leaning against one porch support while Vin leaned on the other, sipping his coffee. Chris asked bluntly because he didn't know what else to say or how. "Is this still about Luca and his friends? Nash? If you need time, Vin -- tell me that but if it's something else...I'm a pretty good detective. I might figure it out."

Vin hadn't even pretended not to know what Chris was talking about. "Kinda hoping you don't, Chris," he'd said softly.

That had hurt a whole lot more than Chris thought it would. "If it's something I've done, I'm sorry," he said, pushing through it.

"So am I." Vin had sounded truly distant then and Chris wracked his brain to try and figure it out. What had he done? When was the last time he had made Vin angry? Or even seemed to?

The Nash thing...it took him a minute to pull that back up, Vin so furious that Chris had made himself a target and maybe that was it -- too close and if Chris was likely to get himself killed, maybe Vin couldn't take it any better than Chris would. "Is this about Nash? I swear I wasn't trying to get myself killed, Vin. Just trying to distract him a little so Ezra could get to you. And you got no cause to be sorry -- I'd have ripped you a new one if you'd pulled a stunt like that," he said trying to put a little humor into a conversation that was otherwise awkward and painful.

Vin had let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh and finished his coffee. He set his cup on the railing and closed the distance between them. "No. I'm sorry because I wish it were true."

Chris thought he'd been ready to hear almost anything but he hadn't been prepared for Vin Tanner's hands to catch the sides of his face and angle his head slightly. Vin's palms were still warm from the coffee mug, and his mouth and lips equally as warm when he kissed Chris in a manner that could in no way be confused with a buss on the lips or cheeks between friends. It was over just about the time Chris realized that Vin was kissing him as a lover might.

Vin had backed away, picked up his cup, and gone back into the house.

It occurred to Chris that Vin might have been expecting his boss -- or his friend -- to deck him. Then it took him a few more moments to wonder why he hadn't. Vin's taste lingered on his lips, and another gulp of coffee only reinforced it.

Every inquiry had been denied. Nothing going on, move along boys.

And Vin had suffered through the harassment stoically, without much comment, even after it was over -- as if he'd been through it before. Vin's words in his kitchen, after the ATF lab teams had left them:

//"I figured they'd stop eventually. Usually do."//

Chris figured he needed to pay more attention.

No girlfriends, not much of a social life at all as far as Chris knew, beyond the team, beyond Chris himself. What off hours Vin had he used working in his neighborhood, working with the kids, helping out his neighbors. But not unhappy, and Chris thought he would have noticed that at least. Even he, distracted as he'd been, couldn't be that oblivious.

Vin was in the kitchen, standing at the counter and absently stirring creamer into his coffee. He glanced up when Chris entered, studied his face for a long moment then turned around.

"You're not pissed."

"No," Chris answered and he wasn't. Confused and startled, but not angry.

"I can put in for a transfer," Vin said after another few minutes of silence.

"Now that would piss me off," Chris warned and was glad when Vin smiled a little. "You've got an interesting sense of timing, Tanner."

"Yeah. Just didn't want...just needed you to know it's got nothing to do with you or anything you've done," Vin said finally.

"Vin, when my best friend kisses me like that...I think it's a good bet it's got something to do with me."

Annoyance flickered in the blue eyes and was banished. "I mean, I'll work it out. I'm not exactly pining over here with a broken heart. It doesn't have to affect nothing." He'd sat then, sipping at the coffee but it looked like it wasn't sitting too well, given the expression on Vin's face. He caught Chris watching him.

Vin looked away, gulping his coffee, and Chris watched him, mind churning. He didn't doubt Vin for one minute -- they could go on as if nothing had been said. Might be a little awkward but it would work itself out. Chris had to believe that and did; Vin was too important to him to lose over something like this. It wasn't the first time Chris Larabee had ever been faced with another man's desire -- it was just usually more obvious than Vin's had been. But those kinds of advances didn't run as deep and were easier to turn aside with a smile, no thanks and no offense. Twenty years earlier, faced with someone like Vin, Chris knew he might have even taken him up on the offer, seen a little bit of how the other half loved beyond a mutual jerk-off.

Chris moved behind him, hands easing onto Vin's shoulders, feeling the tightness there. He'd rubbed a little, felt Vin relax fractionally. "Nothing's changed, Vin," he'd said, not knowing what else he could say. Vin accepted that, nodding.

"I'll try not to be so..."

"Careful about what you say?" Chris said and chuckled. "You're always careful about what you say, Tanner."

He'd patted Vin's back, ruffled his hair and then gone to watch some television. A few minutes later Vin joined him and the conversation had picked up on the roof, other repairs and modifications on the ranch and they'd gone to bed.

Chris hadn't lain awake that long but he did get some thinking done, wondering how he could have missed this or if he'd been willfully blind -- willing to let Vin in that much but no closer. But that wasn't fair to either of them. It would serve the damn department right if it were true, he'd though savagely only that would be even less fair to Vin. Let it go, he warned himself and he did.

It didn't stop him from having some pretty interesting dreams, though.

They'd gotten up early enough, took a run to the closest building supply and got what they needed and spent the day with a lot less tension between them as they pulled out old shingles and replaced them. But Chris found himself almost hyper aware of Vin, how he spoke, how he moved, barely acknowledged thoughts washing in and out of the steady physical labor, noting how Vin almost seemed to know when Chris was ready for the next shingle or a break. By mid-afternoon it was hot but they were nearly done, both men stripping down to the waist to finish up.

Chris was no more aware of Vin's body than his own until the moment he realized he was. Their body types weren't that different save Vin tended toward the rangy side, just shy of skinny, but there was nothing scrawny about the mix of muscle and flesh.

For the first time in his life, possibly, Chris Larabee looked at another man without the underlying instinct to size up and compare and found he liked what he saw. Vin caught him grinning.

"What's so funny?" Vin asked, not offended but curious. "Didn't have a damn bird shit on me, did I?" he asked, looking up at the sky, then running his hand through his hair.

"Nope. Just..." Chris let his smile fade. "What if I said I was starting to wish it were true, too?" He hadn't meant to say that quite yet, wasn't even sure he would until the words came out. He realized that there had been a few times in the last year that he had idly wondered if Vin had a sister, or what if Vin had been a woman. A number of similar thoughts had risen and kind of sidestepped the whole idea that, despite their friendship or maybe because of it, Chris was attracted to Vin and just hadn't had the right software, as JD would say, wired into his brain to recognize it for what it was.

Vin sat back, bracing his forearms on his knees and blinking sweat out of his eyes. "This isn't that, middle aged looking for a new pitch to swing at, is it?"

"Jeez, Vin. I don't know. Just never thought much about it. I mean -- doesn't bother me, guys...gays. You being gay -- just never thought of it for myself."

"You do have a rep as a ladies man," Vin said, grinning at him, nothing awkward about the conversation from his side. "And I knew that…pretty much that *me* or any other fella wouldn't really be a problem for you. Being gay."

"You did, huh?" Chris said, oddly flattered by the comment if only because he liked to think he really did believe in the live and let live kind of philosophy -- as long as it didn't mess with anyone else. Or him.

"Wouldn't have signed on if I hadn't. Wouldn't have stayed if I'd turned out to be wrong," Vin said seriously.

"Martin--"

Vin shrugged. "May have suspected. Didn't ask. Didn't want to know, so he didn't." He'd let the silence hang for a long moment before shaking his head. "Hot up here. Let's finish and you can finish everything you wanted to know about queers but were afraid to ask in a room with less heat."

That hadn't been what he'd meant and he found himself a little annoyed with Vin for thinking that it was. Only it wasn't really Vin, he knew, after applying himself to a few more shingles with a bit more force than was probably necessary. What annoyed him was that Vin had pretty deftly turned the conversation away from what Chris was trying to express.

Whatever that was.

The last shingle was in place and Chris hauled up the flat to lower the tools down to the ground, Vin stacking the leftover bits of roofing material together and bundling them with wire. He sat then, waiting for Chris to finish, wiping his face with his shirt before taking a squirt from his water bottle. It left his mouth wet, skin sheened with sweat and dust.

Shit. Couldn't get it off his mind and, while there was curiosity, Chris was damn sure that had more to do with the mechanics than the actual feelings underneath. His jeans felt a little snug and his own mouth a little dry.

It was almost as if Vin knew the moment Chris made his decision, sensed it even before Chris moved, bracing himself on the slanted roof next to where Vin sat and reaching down to brush a drop of water from his lips. "Let's try this again while I have a clue and am paying attention," Chris said and it wasn't so much asking permission as warning Vin it was going to happen anyway.

Definitely wet, and hot, Vin doing no more than lifting his head, letting Chris drive the kiss, explore as he wanted. He wasn't passive but he didn't try to grab anything but the roof. Chris knew when he swallowed, sweeping Vin's mouth with his tongue, knowing the flush of arousal and desire wasn't just because it had been too long or Vin was willing. He wasn't entirely sure Vin was willing. His fingers dug into the sweaty hair as he deepened the kiss, Vin sucking on his tongue and sending a visceral thrill through him that his groin surely recognized

Chris shifted to hold him, forgetting where they were until he felt Vin slip, grab for purchase on the roof and not find it. He stopped the other man from sliding by grabbing the inside of his thigh, his other hand making a desperate grab for the roof ridge, holding him until Vin could get his boots under him again. Kiss or near accident, Chris felt Vin's cock harden in his jeans, his own cock starting to protest that maybe he should think about looser denim if he was going to get a hard-on half sprawled on a roof top.

A flicker of the blue eyes and Vin knew how Chris was reacting as well. That slow smile started, and Chris' stomach did a couple of flip-flops.

"Might be willing to die for you someday, Larabee, but this isn't what I had in mind," he said, but deliberately rubbed his crotch against Chris's hand before pulling himself up and away, then heading for the ladder on his butt.

It took Chris a few minutes to recover, watching Vin drop the bundled shingles to the ground before gripping the ladder.

"Vin," Chris said, sucking air softly. "This is more than curiosity."

Vin only grinned at him again. "Maybe. Curiosity works, though," he said and then disappeared. By the time Chris got down, Vin had gathered the tools and was carrying them toward the barn.

Sneaking up on Vin wasn't easy and Chris wasn't trying. Vin shelved the box and turned to meet him, the barn a whole lot cooler than outside.

Vin hadn't done anything more besides unsnap his jeans and let out a breath as the restriction on his cock was eased.

Chris didn’t need any other kind of invitation. The man was definitely being a tease and the smirk on his face only lasted a moment before Chris wiped it off with his own mouth. He kept just enough distance between them to allow him to unfasten his own jeans, groaning against Vin's mouth when his partner's far steadier fingers helped.

Vin tugged them backward until his shoulders hit the barn wall, shoving Chris' jeans down over his hips, touching him, stroking him, kissing mouth and jaw and then shoulder before dropping. It was all Chris could do to stay upright, hands braced on the wall, when Vin's mouth and hands covered his throbbing dick with wet heat and applied just the right amount of friction.

It had been too long or Vin was really good -- Chris in no condition to judge as his hips flexed involuntarily, spine arching to thrust against Vin's curled fingers and his mouth. He'd bucked and groaned, warned Vin and then groaned again as Vin took him deeper, swallowing around his cock, milking him until he was dry and trembling.

Then Vin held him, rubbing against him while Chris recovered, Chris only coming to his senses in time to realize Vin was close. He kissed him again, wrapping his hand around the younger man's cock and stroking until he felt Vin's body stiffen and shake and felt wetness on his belly and hip

His turn to hold Vin up and wait for the soft moist panting against his shoulder to ease into more regular breathing. He'd stroked Vin's hair back, but Vin let him give only a lingering touch before he pulled back. Chris was not surprised to see him smiling still.

"Still curious?"

Chris only smiled and nodded his head. He could walk away now and not hear a word about it. No strings. Might be Chris' style but not Vin's -- not as far as Chris knew.

"I do like to study up on subject..."

"Thorough," Vin said nodding. "Must be why they pay you the big bucks. Want me to wash your back?"

Vin had done that and before he'd left late Sunday night, Chris had gotten quite a crash course on what Vin Tanner liked and didn't like -- and learned a few things about himself too. Vin warned him about trying to make up for a couple of years of celibacy in a few hours but he'd been laughing when he said it -- then admitted he had some catching up of his own to do.

They'd only talked about the work versus sex issue once -- and it was more like mentioned.

"I think they've been embarrassed enough by what's gone before," Vin said. "Aren't likely to ask again. Not soon anyway."

Chris had to agree. They hadn't lied when they'd been asked -- if they were asked again, sometime, he'd see how the land lay then.

And Vin seemed more than willing to keep it casual. Most of his experiences had been. Better with someone he was friendly with, but he wasn't, he informed Chris, asking to be set up with a nice apartment and a car and a bank account. It was sex, it was fun, Chris turned him on and that was all there was to it.

It had remained that way for a couple of months. With the last of the tension between them set aside, they got back to work. Vin came out to the ranch no more or no less than he had before. If any of the other boys showed up, they'd watch TV, get some work done, play some cards and sometimes Vin would head home and sometimes he'd stay.

In the field Chris cussed out or praised Vin no more or less than he had before. It was as if the moment they walked into the office there was switch that got turned off. The teasing and horseplay was still there but there were no loaded comments or guarded looks from Vin.

Chris wasn't sure when it had changed or how or if he'd changed first and Vin had followed or if it had been Vin all along, just waiting for Chris to puzzle out the rest of it. They'd kept their bedroom activities simple at first, moving into uncharted territory for Chris slowly. Vin loved to suck Chris' cock and the first time Chris returned the favor, it wasn't so much the pleasure of the act -- although he was surprised that that was there too -- but the fact that he could reduce his normally quiet lover into a incoherently mumbling puddle of reaction and response with so little effort.

It hadn't been until he actually first fucked Vin that he realized the man did have some words saved up after all. He was pretty sure he could get Vin to confess to all kinds of things from the murder of Jimmy Hoffa to the whereabouts of Amelia Earhart if he did it slow enough.

Chris had tried half a dozen times since then to pin it down but there wasn't any single moment, any sudden crisis or near miss that had triggered the slide from fuck-buddies to lovers, from sex to lovemaking. It didn't happen the way it had happened with Sarah which was sudden and breathtaking and never a look back or thought if it made any sense. He didn't wake up one morning and decide he was in love with Vin or Vin with him.

That's just the way it was.

"Sun's settling, Chris," Vin's voice woke him from a half doze, soft words and the softer stroking in his hair easing him back to here and now. "You're gonna get stiff laying there."

"Yeah, but if I died here, I'd be a happy man," Chris grumbled. Vin's chuckle brought him full out of his doze and into the realization that the ground was hard and a little damp. A swat on his butt and he felt Vin move.

He wasn't actually any more sore than he'd expected for all the hauling and digging they'd done. His knee twinged a little as he rolled to his side and got up, stretching his back. Sun was settling and a hot shower would feel good. Vin grabbed the blanket while Chris got their empties, all tossed into the back of the truck.

He could see the edge of the house when his pager went off and Vin's as well. Vin pulled out his first, tilting the small case so he could read the message." 'Got a lead on Juarez. Nate'," he said and a moment of fumbling let Chris get his own out with the same message.

"'Bout fucking time," Chris growled and pulled his phone out for Vin to dial.

"Nathan, Vin. At Chris'. What have you got?"

Chris could only listen, pulling the truck up and parking next to the porch while Vin talked to Nathan.

Chen Maria Juarez, bastard son of a Venezuelan business man and the daughter of a Japanese-American entrepreneur. His father had ties to black-market gun running post World War II. Juarez had done most of his dealing in South America and the Pacific rim until his name popped up some ten years ago as a possible supplier to the Iraqis during Desert Storm. He'd been flagged and watched for years, everyone from the ATF to INS to the Department of the Interior trying to find something to hang on the man for twenty years. And six years ago he'd shown up in Denver -- bought an old ski resort on the side of a mountain where he could see the city and been eluding prosecution ever since.

It had been one of those cases that had fanned the rumors -- why Team 7 couldn't bring Juarez in unless, maybe, just maybe he was making it worth their while not to. As far as Chris knew, his team was just one of the ones in line to nail the man on any charge: Gun-running, smuggling drugs. . Maybe smuggling illegal aliens into the country. Up front Juarez ran a whole string of resorts and dive shops catering to vacationers and travelers to the Gulf of Mexico and beyond. He sponsored charitable events and with his American citizenship guaranteed by his mother's treatment during WWII, his political contributions were courted like virgin school girls.

Ezra had spent most of the last year carefully working his way into the periphery of Juarez's business contacts, letting the man get used to him gradually because no other undercover agent had managed to get any closer and lived to talk about it. His own people were loyal to the death and that was a literal statement. No ex-girlfriends to try and work on, no disgruntled employees. Juarez paid well and he expected total loyalty. There were no degrees of it. And nobody got a second chance.

"Thanks, Nate," Vin said, clicking off, turning to Chris before he could ask. "Denver vice picked up a kid...drug bust, totally routine. Kid was freaked though -- stoned out of his mind, but he starts accusing the blue boys of working for Juarez...of planning to kill him. By the time they got him sobered up and talking sense, some very bright Vice guy ran an interagency query and up popped our flag. They think it's for real, Chris. Kid was with Juarez as of two days ago. He may be our ticket in."

"Only ticket we got," Chris said and the two of them hurried to get cleaned up and head back to Denver. The weekend was over.

Part Two

It wasn't really necessary for Vin to keep Chris' black Ram in sight -- he knew the route, and it wasn't like they were headed back with lights flashing. He did it anyway, pressing his aging Jeep's engine to the limit because Chris was pushing the speed limit pretty fiercely and Vin had visions of him blowing a tire, if not a gasket.

He wasn't any less hyped about the break on Juarez's case than his boss either. Vin had been with US Marshals long enough to cover three separate cases of human trafficking, two of which had involved nothing but dead bodies found when the smugglers got spooked and left their cargo locked in a half-trailer to die from heat exhaustion and lack of oxygen. The third had been nothing but kids: girls and boys sent north by their parents in the hopes of a better, kinder life north of the border. Not one of them had been older than fourteen and their tenders hadn't been too careful about how they treated them or how they were used before delivery.

Juarez had been linked to all three but there wasn't a single bit of evidence or even enough separate bits to get an indictment handed down. The drivers of the "kid convoy" had been charged, tried, convicted and not a week after being sent to prison, ended up dead. Not one to take chances on his people's loyalty, was Juarez.

And as hopeful as Nathan had sounded, Vin wasn't quite ready to even think there was anything close to a done deal where Juarez was concerned. He didn't think Chris thought so either but there was no denying the feral look in those green eyes on getting the news. Chris wanted Juarez badly -- and not just because the team's rep was on the line. There was something else under his determination to see the man brought down. Vin just hadn't figured out what it was yet and Chris wasn't volunteering.

Not that Vin had asked. He rarely did. Early on he'd realized that Chris answered to a lot of people, and only a few of them were on his own team. How he ran his ops, his opinions on everything from SOP's to internal processes: if he went a day without some division or agency calling him asking him his "off the record" opinion -- Vin had yet to see it.

The man could make a fortune as a Law Enforcement Consultant and do a hell of a better job than most of the "experts" that got brought in.

So Vin didn't ask. Not much. He'd discovered as a kid that you really did learn a whole lot more watching and listening than you did asking questions. Being in the service had only reinforced that.

What Chris wanted him to know, he'd tell him and that was true on the job and off. It didn't mean Vin never asked questions, only that he was more likely to ask to clarify a point than to get more information than Chris was ready to offer. The rest of it pretty much sorted itself out.

Denver traffic on a Saturday night rivaled Friday at five and both Chris and Vin were forced to slow down a bit to make their way through the busy downtown to the Federal building. It did break up just past 17th Ave, Vin pulling his jeep in beside Chris and following him to the elevator.

They hit the eighth floor lock up and holding rooms: the one floor that never seemed to clear out --even on the weekends. They both had to check in with security, badges out and guns checked in before being admitted, Vin keeping his strides even with Chris'. He had the feeling Chris would run flat out if he didn't realize his answers weren't going to come any faster. Juarez had been on somebody's plate for the better part of twenty years -- a few more hours wasn't going to make a difference.

They got buzzed through to the conference room and the guard went to interrupt the interview. The room itself was pretty bare-bones: table and chairs, one outdated vinyl couch, a phone and a single CRT terminal on a moveable desk. There was a coffee pot -- empty and no supplies, and a water cooler with no cups.

A moment later Buck and Nathan emerged. "Josiah's talking to him," Nathan said. "Sorry to interrupt your weekend, but I figured you wouldn't want to wait until Monday."

"Good call," Chris said with a quick grin, hitching his hip up to sit on the edge of a conference table. Vin found a place close by to lean against the wall after greeting Buck and Nathan.

"Got a Bureau Legal Advocate in with him," Buck said. "Waived counsel. This kid is scared shitless."

"So, what have we got?" Chris asked.

"Jamie Culver, twenty-six. Got picked up at a club called 'Mephistos' over on Market Street, pretty routine -- cocaine, eXstasy, crack," Nathan said, reciting the facts he'd probably memorized by now. "Vice got a tip, the blues made a sweep. Culver was already higher than Mt. Elbert. At first they thought he was seeing things -- hallucinating, people coming to get him. Wasn't until they tried to get him out of the club that he started screaming about Juarez -- said the cops were sent to bring him back. Took them a few hours to get him treated, clean his system out enough to get sense of anything. According to Philips over at vice, once he did come down and realized what he'd been saying he got even more scared. Swore Juarez would kill him and begged for protection."

"So what's he know?" Chris asked, letting Nathan sort it out as he needed. No surprise that Culver's physical and emotional state would be first on Nathan Jackson's mind.

"Not a whole lot. Nothing about Juarez's business dealings at all. Said he hadn't been there for more than two weeks and was apparently pretty free to come and go. Was there for ...companionship, he says."

"Prostitute?" Chris asked, surprised. Nothing in Juarez's file about a preference for young men. Usually he had nice looking women on his arm or no companion at all.

Buck shook his head. "Don't think so -- not like you're thinking, Chris. Kid worked as a bartender at a club over in Central City when he met Juarez. Mutual friend introduced them -- another kid named Cal Jenkins. We're trying to get a line on him. Culver says he got invited out to Juarez's place for a weekend, Cal told him it was like a vacation. Juarez treated him like a guest, never touched him. Not then."

"Likes to watch though," Nathan said, quietly. "There's nothing like this in Juarez's file, Chris. Kid could be making it all up or just paranoid. He had enough crap in his system to make him both paranoid and delusional but Josiah thinks there's truth to all of this. Culver is scared."

"You keep saying that," Chris said with a raised eyebrow.

Nathan grinned, a flash of white teeth in handsome dark face and he relaxed a little. "Not too often we get some kid begging for federal lock up. Juarez's zero tolerance for drug use among his 'employees' seems to have made an impression on Mr. Culver. It was part of why he took off. He was hurting and didn't want Juarez to know he was using."

"Juarez's ethics on drug use are laughable," Chris said. "If he's not financing half his operation on drug money, I'll eat my truck. So, anything we can use yet?"

Buck shook his head. "He's not going back -- I think he'd rather jump out of a window. And he's not bein' too forthcoming on what he saw that got him so scared of being punished. Could still be the drugs though. He insisted we do the interview in a room with no windows. Maybe he thinks there might be a sniper after him."

"Given Juarez's rep, he might not be far wrong," Vin said quietly. "If this kid really was up to the resort, and got away, they might be looking for him."

"Ezra been in?" Chris asked, getting up.

"No," Buck said as they headed for the closed door. "Wanted to see if we get anything from him first. There's something going on up there next weekend that Ezra's supposed to go to."

"Open house...," Chris said after thinking a minute. "Some kind of South American exhibition game Juarez is hosting. Lacrosse, I think. Get him to give us an update if he can but don't call him in just yet."

Buck agreed, lingering in the conference room to make the call while Nathan got them buzzed into the smaller room.

It had probably been an AV room at some point, a massive pull down projection screen on one wall and no windows, no other door either. The room had been cleared, just a table and four chairs around it. Two others at the wall one with the guard and the other holding a middle aged man in dress slacks and a white shirt and tie but no jacket, carrying a laptop.

Josiah Sanchez glanced away from the young man he was talking to, the legal pad in front of him covered with notes and a recorder on the table. "Jamie, this is special Agents Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. Gentlemen, Jamie Culver."

Jamie Culver looked a little older than his twenty six years at the moment. Blue eyes were reddened and his skin sallow under shoulder length dark hair. He was wearing chained cuffs around his wrists, giving him plenty of room to pick up his coffee or to light another cigarette, a nearly empty pack in front of him and the ashtray full of smoked to the filter butts. There was a stack of Styrofoam cups to one side, the one in front of him still half full of black coffee and a sizeable pile of sugar packets pushed toward the center of the table. Glancing at the trash can in the room, Vin caught sight of a half dozen empty sealed sandwich packs from a vending machine.

If he hadn't been so strung out and looking like the bad end of a wet ride, Culver would be a good looking man. The dark hair was thick and curly, the kind a girl might envy. He had a generous mouth and slender build. Despite his current circumstances, his hands were well manicured and when he spoke, his voice a little hoarse, it was pretty obvious this was not an angle seeking street kid.

Josiah introduced Fred Macklin as the bureau's Legal Advocate, a nod toward making sure such inter-agency cooperation didn't get fouled up.

Chris took a seat across from Josiah, putting Culver at the head of the table between them, Vin and Nathan taking up positions on against the wall on either side of the door so the kid could see them.

Culver looked both nervous and tired as he eyed Chris and then Vin, who gave him a small smile.

"We're just listening in, Josiah. Didn't mean to interrupt," Chris said, leaning back in his chair.

Josiah glanced at his notes. "You said, this is the third time since Mr. Juarez invited you to stay at his place that you've left?" he continued after a moment, that deep voice of his pushed to a level so low and steady, Vin though Josiah sound like nothing so much as a purring housecat. A big purring housecat. Maybe a puma.

"Yeah....," Culver said after a moment, he had an unlit cigarette between his fingers, tapping the filtered end on the table. "If you don't count the first weekend. "Tell him I need to go to town and he...somebody drives me. Or I can take...one of the cars. Just need to tell him when I'm coming back...for the...guard gate, you know?"

"And did you drive yourself to Denver?"

Culver shook his head, pushing the dark hair back. "No. Knew I wasn't coming back even though...I said I was. One of the guys dropped me off at the club, told him to pick me up at two when it closed. Didn't plan on being there though, but if I'd taken the car...might have said I'd stolen it or something."

"No problems getting in and out?"

Culver put the cigarette to his lips and Josiah obligingly lit it for him. A sip of coffee and Culver took a breath. "No. He just likes to know...when I'm off grounds. Cal said the same thing. Kind of like checking in with your parents. Can't bring anyone on grounds unless Chen...Mr. Juarez knows them, though."

"And Mr. Juarez didn't really ask anything of you for his hospitality?"

Culver shook his head and took a drag on his cigarette. "No. I mean, I kind of thought that's what it was...you know, old guy, wanting a little fling on the side. But he never did nothing but watch. A little kinky but," he shrugged. "Whatever. His house."

"How many times did he watch?" Josiah asked.

Culver had to think. "Most nights...after Cal left. I mean he did that night too. Just sat in a chair and watched Cal and I...then he left. When it was over. A couple of nights after I got there, he came into my room and sat and asked...you know if I felt like jacking off. Said he wanted to watch. It was kind of a kink you know...but he never did anything but hand me a towel afterward. Rest of the time, he'd ...we'd talk. At dinner. Went riding a couple of times but it was like he was just...a lonely old guy."

"Seems like a pretty easy gig," Josiah said. "Good pay."

Culver nodded, glancing at Chris then away. "Not bad. Five hundred a day...no rent or nothing. Cal got the same."

"What happened to Cal?" Chris asked.

"I don't know," Culver said, studying the cigarette packet. "He was at the bar that following week, and headed back later. After we closed. When I came in that weekend, Chen said Cal'd wanted to spend a little of the money he'd made. That was... a couple of weeks ago."

"Are you worried about him?" Josiah asked.

Culver snorted and took a drag off his cigarette. "Cal? No. Don't know him that well but he's a flake. You know, easy in bed, can't remember where he is the next day," he said and his eyes flicked to Vin. Vin met his gaze but said nothing.

Buck returned halfway through the session, buzzing inside and taking the seat at the end of the table after a nod to Chris to let him know he'd gotten through to Ezra.

Josiah prodded some more, trying to get more to the source of Culver's fear and Vin watched Culver get more agitated as Josiah asked him what kind of punishment he expected for either the drugs or the failure to return.

"I dunno! He's just...it was okay. All of it. He just...he got a little scary."

"When did he get scary, Jamie? What did he do?"

"Damn horse," Jamie finally said. "It just freaked me out. We were talking...by the pool. The stable guy...Hal came up to say one of the horses had taken a fall, running the trails. He lets them run. Broke a leg. Needed to be put down."

Chris leaned forward confusion on his face. "Usually do if they break a leg. Unless they are going to breed."

Jamie shook his head. "Geldings. That's all he has. And I know you do...usually you shoot them though, right?" he asked, looking at Chris.

"Fastest way," Chris admitted.

"He...cut its throat," Jamie said, stabbing out his cigarette and pulling another from the pack. "I mean...I wasn't there but I heard it...he told me. Just said it was his animal and he hadn't protected it, saved it, it was up to him to put it out of its misery. It just freaked me out. A lot. I wanted something ... you know, to take the ...I was freaked. But he'd said that from the first. No drugs. 'I won't tolerate someone who is bent on destroying themselves'. Just like that."

The man was practically bouncing in his seat and Chris glanced at Josiah who nodded. "We're going to take a break, Jamie. Let you go to the bathroom. Need anything? Maybe something other than coffee." Josiah rose first, deep voice soothing and calm and Jamie actually seemed to appreciate the man's size.

Josiah and the guard escorted him out of the room.

"You think that's it? The horse?" Buck asked. "Messy and a little brutal but he said he didn't see it."

"I don't know. If he was strung out it might have seemed worse than it was. Kid doesn't seem to be holding much back," Chris said standing up to stretch and rubbing his face with his hands.

"You going to try and send him back in?" Buck asked.

"He won't go," Vin said. "And he isn't ...hasn't got his shit together enough to fake it. No way we could protect him if Juarez is after him."

"Sounds like he's recruiting his company from the bar Culver worked at. We might be able to get someone in that way," Nathan offered.

"Not unless Juarez knows who is making the introductions," Chris said with a sigh.

"Even if we find Cal Jenkins, I'm not sure it would work since Culver ditched," Vin said.

"J.D's working it. Checking airports, trains, rentals," Nathan said.

"We get a description on him?" Chris asked and Buck nodded, pulling Josiah's pad to him and flipping back a few pages. "Twenty-four. 'bout six foot, blue eyes, blond hair. Worked for the fitness place over at the convention center. They weren't open when we called but we'll check 'em out on Monday."

The buzzer sounded and Josiah returned with Culver, who looked like he'd splashed some water on his face but it hadn't improved things much.

When he was seated, Chris leaned in, hands folded on the table. "Jamie, you know anything that can help us get inside? Housekeepers: you said they run stables. Ever hear of Juarez hiring day help?"

"No," Jamie said, shaking his head. "Same folks. Housekeepers love him, gardeners. I mean they think he's the best thing going. He's good to them. Was ...you know, good to me. He's just...kind of weird. Old fashioned weird." He rubbed his face. "I know what the cops said...but I didn't see anything really. It was a good gig. But...I don't want to go back. You aren't..."

"You're awfully scared of him for someone who didn't see anything," Vin said, coming to sit on the edge of the table. "If he didn't do anything to you."

Culver stared at Vin for a long moment.

"So what did he do to Cal?" Vin asked quietly. "Something he said, that you didn't see?"

Culver checked his coffee cup but it was empty and grabbed another cigarette. Vin beat Josiah to pulling out his lighter, cupping the young man's hand in his as he lit the tobacco.

"I didn't see anything," Culver said.

"Not asking for testimony," Vin said, pocketing the lighter. "Not setting up a court case."

Culver eyed him for a moment, then sat back, taking a deep drag off his cigarette, studying Vin before looking away. "Just something Cal said...was a guy, working there. Grounds. Cal thought he was hot. He was just flirting a little."

Vin waited, arms braced on his legs. "Juarez didn't like it," he guessed, after a moment.

"Cal said he had... got mad. Told Cal he was there as his guest, and he didn't like ungrateful guests. And didn't like ungrateful staff. Grounds guy was gone and Cal didn't see him again. He said the whole house was a little freaked for a couple of days then settled again. It was just...that and the horse. He never got mad at me. I don't think I'd want to be around if he did."

"He replace the grounds guy?" Chris asked.

Culver shrugged. "Never saw him, so I don't know. Could have."

"He ever go back to the bar where you worked?" Josiah asked.

"Not that I know of. Not after Cal introduced us. And I'd never seen him in there before then." He glanced up at Vin. "If he saw you, he'd probably ask," he said after a moment.

"Yeah? His type, am I?" Vin asked with a slow smile.

"About right. Likes 'em tall, long haired. Not into kids as far as I know...just younger men. Cal told me there was a guy there before him. Didn't know him. Cal saw him once, the first week. Then he took off. Might have been somebody else -- a friend, somebody who works for him. Cal said he looked a lot like me and Juarez seemed to think that was good."

"I think we're done for now," Chris said after a moment when Culver had nothing more to say. "We're keeping you here, Jamie. Get some rest because we're probably going to do this all over again tomorrow."

"Whatever. Just...keep me here or if you cut me loose...get me out of town," Culver said and the fear was back in his face and voice.

Another agent was called to escort Culver to a cell and the advocate said he'd have a transcript to Chris as soon as possible.

Chris sat back eyeing Vin and Vin was pretty sure the others were watching him too.

"You asked some pretty specific questions, Brother Vin," Josiah said in his best preacher voice.

Vin leaned against the wall, digging his hands into his pockets. "Hunch. Literal truth. Check back far enough and Culver's probably got a record. He wants us to protect him -- hearsay won't get that for him. Only something we can use."

"You think he gave it all to us?" Chris asked and Vin had to think about it.

"Can't be sure. I'd like to know what Jenkins has to say because I'm betting...he probably did see something."

"Might want to see how many John Does hit the morgue in the past month," Chris said.

"You think he killed the gardener?" Buck asked. "Or Jenkins?"

"I don't know. I'd like to have pictures though, if we get hold of Jenkins. Ezra coming in?"

"Tomorrow? Change your mind? Want him to talk to Culver?" Buck asked.

"Maybe. But..."

Vin met Chris gaze without flinching. "He's got a way to introduce us."

"You're putting a lot of faith in a coke head's ability to identify what kind of 'companion' Juarez is likely to go for," Chris said.

Vin shrugged, then pushed his hair back with a grin. "So maybe he doesn't bite, but it's a shot, Chris, and closer than what we've had."

"Are you shittin' me?" Buck said, glancing between Chris and Vin. "Isn't there some long hair in vice we can tag for this?"

"Aw, Bucklin, I didn't know you cared," Vin said with a grin. "Worried about my virtue?"

"If he bites, you could be there for awhile -- no wire, no tags, no backup," Buck pointed out.

"Culver says he came and went," Vin said and looked at Chris.

"I want to talk to Ezra first. And I want to know why none of this is in the files. And more on Culver," Chris said. "Do what you can tomorrow. Nathan, you got Juarez's file?"

"Most of it, last few years," Nathan said as Chris got to his feet.

"Get the rest of it. All of it -- back to his birth certificate." Chris led them out and to the elevator, punching in for the eleventh floor when the doors opened. "You got anything cooking in there, Josiah?"

The big man rubbed his beard with the palm of his hand. "I spent some time with Juarez's file this afternoon, when we got the call. If he's got a jones for young attractive, gay men -- he's kept it hidden remarkably well -- and to only observe, that's an interesting twist."

"Culver said no kids, right?" Buck asked as the elevator doors opened, and the five of them moved as a group toward their office. Chris hit the glass doors swinging them open. The lights were already on, although the only one at his desk was JD, computer monitor flickering as he punched in queries and searches.

"Not as far as he knows," Vin said. "Means squat."

"You guys done? Get anything?" JD Dunne asked, pushing away from his computer.

"Maybe," Chris said coming up behind JD to clap his shoulder. "More interested in what you got. Anything?"

"Not much -- got an APB out on Jenkins, though. There was already a warrant."

"For what?" Chris asked.

"Grand Theft Auto questioning. Seems he borrowed somebody's car in Culver City about a year ago. At least I think it's the same guy. Description fits. It just hit the wires about an hour ago."

Chris grinned down at him. "Nicely done, JD. Who signed off on the APB?"

"Called up MacNamara over at DPD. He thought it was enough."

"I'm making coffee," Vin called out to the group.

"Make it drinkable, Tanner," Buck warned, coming up behind him to make sure Vin didn't put in twice the grounds any normal person would.

Vin chuckled and measured the loose stuff out very carefully, much to Buck's approval.

"You aren't really thinking about doing this?" Buck asked turning around to lean against the low cabinet the coffee pot and small refrigerator were set up on.

"Window of opportunity, Buck," Vin said, glancing up. Buck looked worried.

"Vin, you just barely got them to stop talking about you," he said quietly. "This isn't going to help."

Vin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something he'd regret and carefully measured water into the pot. "We get something on Juarez we can use, Buck, and *they* can say any fucking thing they want to. Getting someone in that house has been like trying to swim to China."

"Yeah but...what he wants is..."

Vin raised an eyebrow. "Little live action -- not much different than watching porn, Buck, and you don't have much of a problem with that."

"And if he wants more?"

"I'm not even inside, yet, Buck," Vin said.

"You're either nuts or crazy. This ain't a drug buy, Vin. This is twisted," Buck said more loudly.

Vin pulled his cup from the rack, giving Buck an incredulous look. "Better guns than a guy who wants to watch? I don't think I'm the crazy one, Bucklin. You might want to think on that," he said and fixed his mug, waiting for the coffee to brew.

"Better guns," Buck said flatly and pushed off.

Vin watched him go, then pulled the grounds basket out and added more coffee.

"Vin?"

Vin turned, seeing Chris in his office door. Chris jerked his chin and Vin decided he really might want more than coffee.

Chris closed the door and the blinds, waiting for Vin to take one of the two chairs in front of his desk. "You seemed pretty quick to jump on this," he said settling on the edge of his desk.

"We want him."

"Heard Buck. He's right. This isn't a drug bust. And you never worked Vice."

"No, but I've done undercover. Chris, if'n you've got somebody else, I'm all ears. Somehow I don't think JD is going to fit the bill."

Chris gave him a quick smile. "No. Not very tall."

"And likely to die of embarrassment if he has to jack off in front of somebody," Vin said flatly.

Chris took a breath, fingers tightening on the edge of his desk. "Might be that the thing...the first weekend with Jenkins and Culver is a kind of test...If Ezra--"

Vin made Chris meet his eyes, kicking out to hit Chris' boot with his foot. "Then Ezra and I will work it out. Would have to anyway...before we go to the house. If not me then somebody else. It's what we've got, Larabee."

"I haven't said yes to this yet," Chris said tightly, green eyes narrowed.

"But you will," Vin said, certain Chris would but he was a little confused. Or Chris was. He leaned forward. "It's a job, Chris, like any other and if you want Juarez -- and trust me, *I* want Juarez, then we take the breaks where we can get them. If he had a weakness for buxom blondes you wouldn't blink at sending Mandy over on five in," he said softly.

"I'd blink," Chris said after a moment. "And I'm not so sure on the yes, yet. I've got no way to cover you or anyone in there, Vin. And damn few ways of getting you out if it goes sour -- if I even know it goes sour. A week's not long enough to set this up."

"It's all we've got, Chris," Vin said and knew it wasn't just their relationship that might be nagging at Chris -- although he didn't discount it entirely. It was risky. He wasn't blind to the fact that he really could end up with someone he knew was a killer without back up. "It's not like he's dealing guns out of his house. I may come up with nothing -- if I can get in at all. And unlike Culver, I already know he's dangerous. I don't need him to gut a horse to know it."

Chris didn't look all that reassured and Vin shook his head. "Just...give me the okay to at least get what prelim done I ken," he said, fatigue and frustration making his drawl worse. "If we find Jenkins...we'll know more."

Chris pushed off the desk, going to the windows. "Storm moving in," he said after a moment. "Believe in bad omens, Vin?"

"Rather believe in good ones," Vin said situating himself across from Chris to look out. He could see the clouds moving in on the horizon.

"Get your prelim done, but I want more, Vin. If it doesn't pan out, Ezra can go to the open house and keep working the buy angle." Chris put his back to the storm. "It's not ...us...Vin," he said quietly.

Vin nodded. "I know," he said, but he wasn't sure; a little caught off guard by the almost expressionless face Chris gave him. It was the first and only time he recalled Chris ever talking about them on the job. "For me either. But better me than...say if he had a yearnin' for Buck's type," he added with a small smile. "Course, might solve our problems if it were. Buck would probably kill him."

Chris smiled a little. "Maybe I ought to see if I can work that angle. Save us a lot of time and effort."

"I'll suggest it then run like hell. We done?"

"Yeah. You may as well go home. Come in and meet with Ezra tomorrow and I'm gonna want you to talk to Culver again. He knew, didn't he?" he added, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully.

"About me? Takes one to know...whole thing. Yeah. Might want to think on that for the rest of the team. If we do this, it's likely to raise some questions about me. Again."

"And you're okay with that."

"As far as it goes," Vin answered honestly. He was. Buck might be a problem, but Vin wasn't sure it would be so much about Buck finding out that Vin knew a lot more about the kind of life Culver led as it would be about keeping the rest quiet. "The department should keep to it's 'don't ask, don't tell'."

"I can talk to Travis."

"More we treat it like any other undercover op, the more likely everyone else will too, Chris."

"Vin if it comes to it-- to another...inquiry..."

"I'd quit first, Chris," Vin said evenly. "I'm pretty much okay for getting fucked for the bureau, but not getting fucked over by it."

"Jesus, we shouldn't be having this conversation here," Chris whispered.

"Tempting fate. Play out the hand, Chris. Let's see what we get."

Chris didn't look too happy about it, but he nodded and Vin left quickly when what he really wanted to do was smooth the creases from around Chris' mouth and forehead. He only stopped long enough to get his coat. He called out good night and then grinned as he heard Buck yell his name as he tasted the coffee. The elevator doors closed before Buck could get to him.

The area was nicknamed Purgatorio -- halfway between here and nowhere was what the more jaded of the inhabitants said. Mostly Hispanic with a smattering of other minorities and ethnic groups, and well away from the business, government and tourist side of Greater Denver, it sometimes seemed to be another world entirely unto itself in its few square blocks.

Vin was pretty familiar with just about every street and alley that fell into this half realm between the old world family values and new wealth. It was mostly brownstones and brick, subsidized housing and small family businesses barely making it week to week. Half the residents caught the buses or walked to the more affluent neighborhoods to make their minimum wage jobs stretch enough to feed hungry mouths. They worked twelve hour a day jobs to struggle to make rent that some people could toss off easily in a single expensive dinner -- and hoped that the other half of the Purgatorio residents wouldn't steal what little they had while they were gone.

He could live elsewhere -- could certainly afford to move out of what could only kindly be called a slum and move into a low income neighborhood. It would be a step up.

He stayed. His fourth floor apartment was larger than some condos, if not as well kept up. The top floor tended to get a little warm in the summer and the heat in the winter was an iffy bet at best. It also had access to the roof, "the Vertical Veranda" Ezra called it, and Vin had spent more than one sultry night up there trying to catch what breeze there was in Denver's brief hot season, and more taking in the crystal sharp winter nights just breathing in the sense of space.

It was home. It had been for the better part of his life -- with brief forays into the world. He'd ended up in Denver at fourteen, hitchhiking north from Texas to see the mountains and snow and trying to stay a step ahead of the Child Welfare Services that seemed determined to make his life a misery. The border Spanish he'd picked up in Texas served him pretty well. He'd dodged CWS, and managed not to starve doing a variety of things he'd spent a good deal of the rest of his life trying to forget.

Then he'd joined the army.

That was the story he told when anyone asked; most of the details locked up with his juvenile records.

It hadn't seemed so strange to return here after his tour of duty was up. He understood the people in Purgatorio better than most. You survive day to day and your future was all about your dreams -- even the broken ones. There wasn't much else of real importance to know or need.

He thought Chris understood at least part of it. Understood Vin's need to make a difference in some small way when their job, even when they were locking up the bad guys or taking them down, seemed to make so little difference in war that was silent and on-going and would probably never end.

Middle America suffered the onslaught of drugs and guns and criminals in the horrors on their TV screens and in taxes paying to stop the incursion from reaching their neighborhoods.

In Purgatorio the people paid with the lives of their children and those dreams broken over and over again.

It wasn't that simple, Vin knew, but it seemed simpler here. Cause and effect.

And there was still heart here. Lots of it if you looked under the poverty and the fear.

The team was pretty amused that Vin seemed to have a constant stream of kids running in and out of his place. He thought it was pretty funny himself. He had good neighbors. He belonged here as he'd felt he belonged few other places.

And if he used most of the money he saved by not paying four times the rent in buying and fixing used bikes for the kids, or making sure the elderly tenants in his building had heat of some sort in the winter, it was his business.

Chris said he was a soft touch.

"Said the pot to the kettle," Vin muttered to himself as he unlocked his door. There was a brief hesitation as he hit the lights. He knew it. Cursed himself for it as he checked walls and the lock. No surprises.

So he was feeling a little raw and exposed. Not so surprising given what he'd volunteered for.

And he didn't care -- not really. He hadn't lied to Chris about it. Had never lied about his sexual preferences if asked directly -- which the inquiry board never had. The Army hadn't asked and neither had the Marshals and Vin had never been the type to hit the clubs or hunt down a partner for a night, and he wasn't likely to plaster either a pink triangle or a nice little rainbow on his Jeep either.

He pulled a beer from his refrigerator and took a sip before shrugging off holster and gun, pulling the clip out and checking it. The sidearm was the only weapon he kept in the house -- a concession to the fact that he did have kids in and out most days. There were enough guns in Purgatorio without Vin adding to the stash. The gun went under his mattress, the clip under the pillow and he stripped down to his jeans, pulling his boots off and then opening the windows to get a cross breeze. It was pretty cool, the storm front moving in slowly but steadily and Vin sat in the window to watch it and sip his beer, letting the last few hours of tension ease away.

He should call Ezra. It wasn't that late although he'd be surprised if Chris left the office at all. Chances were he'd sack out on the sofa in his office. Buck would offer to let him stay with he and JD and Chris would turn him down. Vin wouldn't stay with those two without a HazMat team sweeping the place first. Nathan would leave at the last minute to make it home before his wife did and Josiah...

Josiah was bothered by something but he wasn't likely to reveal it until he'd thought on it some.

Vin liked Josiah. He liked having the big man backing him up on a bust. He liked the way he saw to the heart of things. But there were times when Josiah gave him the willies. It wasn't so different from what he'd felt from other profilers. Took a weird kind of mind to be able to get inside the mind of killers and madmen, and Vin suspected that profilers, and Josiah especially, might be a little of both. There but for the grace of God, as Josiah would say.

It still creeped him out though.

Finishing his beer he closed the front windows but left those in his bedroom open and rummaged in the refrigerator again for something to eat. There wasn't much - he hadn't expected to be home this weekend and he hadn't really thought of stopping on the way home.

Yogurt though. Always. A banana going brown and some orange juice. Enough. There was ice cream in the freezer and probably a couple of candy bars -- Vin's one weakness in the realm of junk food. He'd eaten enough of it growing up when it was all he could afford -- or could steal to pretty much avoid it when at all possible. But sweets...no resistance at all.

He mixed it all up in a cup and went to the living room, hitting the radio and letting the local country station drown out the sounds of cars and yelling on the streets. It always took him a day or so to get used to the common sounds here after being at Chris' ranch.

Speed dial got him Ezra's number, not surprised when the machine picked up instead of Ezra. "I regret I'm not available to take your call," and Vin could only grin at that soft southern voice just oozing sincerity, "Please leave your name and number and I'll hasten to return your call as soon as possible."

"Ez. It's Vin. Pick up the phone," Vin said and waited.

"You'd have done better to call my cell," Ezra said a few moments later.

"I like listening to your message," Vin said. "That boarding school culture thing just curls my toes."

"You have a low threshold for pleasure, Mr. Tanner. What can I do for you?'

"You talked to Buck -- Juarez."

"Ah. Mr. Culver's revelations have indeed put a new twist on our pursuit of the elusive Mr. Juarez."

"You talked to Chris, yet?"

"Briefly and I have to say, Mr. Tanner, I'm as hesitant as he to embark on this course," Ezra said and there was less flippant tone to his voice than Vin might have expected. "Juarez is both cautious and unpredictable."

Vin took another bite of his liquid dinner and licked the spoon. "You any closer to him than you were?"

"Other than the invitation -- which half the city got, no. Unfortunately. Vin...," Ezra started and Vin waited. It wasn't often Ezra called him -- or anyone -- by his first name. Kept a little distance there, something Ezra wanted for his own reasons, or maybe his own protection. "For all that this opportunity seemed to drop like manna from heaven -- it's almost too convenient don't you think?"

Vin sat back, staring at a Pena print on the wall between his front windows. He'd had to clean the glass and have the frame repaired after his apartment had been trashed but the print itself had been untouched. "Doesn't do much good for him to try and back trap us, Ez. If not us, someone else will be dogging him. He has to know that. You think he's made you?"

"No. No, I don't. Not quite your style though..."

Vin snorted. "You and Buck."

"Mr. Wilmington's protests, I very much doubt are in the nature of mine. You prefer to keep your sexual habits private," Ezra said quietly. "As do I. You, as a choice of companion for me, won't overly surprise Mr. Juarez, I don't believe."

"I need you to help me make this work, Ezra. If you go in there tomorrow with...reservations...Larabee will scotch this faster than a cheap drunk."

"And if I do have reservations?" Ezra asked.

"Depends on if it's because you think I can't handle it or if it's something else," Vin said quietly.

Ezra was silent for a long time. Vin needed his backing. He knew it and so did Ezra, because it was too fast and the objections Chris had raised, the purely operational ones, were pretty serious. "Do you think he's got anything illegal at the house?"

"No. Not likely."

"Nothing for me to find, then, right?"

"Nothing but who he talks to and what he does."

"So, cakewalk."

"You might come up empty handed, Vin. You might be putting yourself out for a lot of grief for very little return."

"And if Juarez looked on it as favor you did for him?"

Ezra took a breath. "That might count for something."

"Which is more than we've got now."

Vin heard a soft chuckle. "Your powers of persuasion, Mr. Tanner, are as usual, remarkable. You're quite certain that posing as my latest affair de coeur isn't going to strain your acting abilities?"

"Well," Vin said slowly, with a grin. "You ain't exactly dog-ugly, Ez. I'm thinking if I close my eyes..."

"I might remind you of --"

"Ez. Don't." Vin felt the tension seep back into his body. Ezra never asked, Vin never said, but as with Culver, there were just times when a fella *knew*. And Vin was pretty sure Ezra knew a whole lot more than he'd said. Vin wanted to keep it that way. Unsaid.

"My apologies, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said after a moment. "Business is business and your private life isn't any of mine. It's a rare thing, Mr. Tanner. I'd hate to see you lose it."

"It's business, Ez. Separate," Vin said. "Has to be or it's not real."

"I'm not sure I'd agree with that, but --" Ezra was all business again. "I see your point. As you say, any step forward is a worthy one."

"Thanks, Ezra. I'll see you tomorrow," Vin said and rang off.

Any other time he might find it a little funny the way Ez was managing not to poke around his love life. He might have to fend Buck off for a bit, JD too, probably, although Vin wasn't honestly sure how the youngest of their team would react to finding out that some, if not all, the rumors about Vin were true.

Which was what Ezra was worried about. Vin as well, but not in the same way. Vin really could get fucked over on this and he knew it. So did Chris.

But maybe, if Vin dug deep enough, he'd find out he didn't care.

He liked working for the ATF. He loved working on Team 7 -- Band of brothers, friggin' A. They were that and Buck's unknown response notwithstanding, Vin figured he'd still have most of that if suddenly he wasn't on the team any longer. He'd miss it. Them.

But he'd still have Chris. Could fall out badly because the burden of blame would fall to Chris but if Vin resigned, the dynamics causing the problem would be dissolved. Reprimand, black mark, but it wouldn't be the first and if the ATF thought an ethics suspension for Chris was the only answer they were idiots and Vin didn't want to work for them anyway.

"Shit...," he said softly and lay back on the couch closing his eyes. Joining Chris' team had been like having everything come together at once -- came together right, the ground felt solid under his feet. Chris' doing, even before they'd crossed the line.

They had. Vin had, after swearing up and down he wasn't going to. It was one thing to look at Chris Larabee and get a thrill down his spine every time those green eyes glanced his way. It wasn't fatal to know that the throb in his groin when the man moved or breathed or stood still was only a bit of less than earth shattering lust. He'd experienced all that just watching the man walk across a rail yard.

He didn't expect there would be so much more to it then. Lust could burn itself out and that initial fire had. What was left was a whole lot stronger. He wasn't alone in it either -- granted, he was pretty sure none of the rest of the team were warming themselves against the same kind of fire, but it was there. Like a beacon, like a steady rock in a turbulent sea.

And Chris sometimes wondered why Buck had stood by him for so many years. Hell, if Buck had been any other kind of man than what he was, Vin would never have stood a chance and Vin wasn't entirely sure Sarah would have either had Chris or Buck stuck their heads up a little sooner and looked around.

Vin almost wished he'd known Chris' wife. Other times he was glad he hadn't. Everything he knew about Chris said he'd been a very different man before her death. Quick to laugh, to love, all energy and enthusiasm and wild spirits. The man he'd met wasn't hardly any of those things any longer. He wasn't any less fierce about what he believed in, but there was, at the first, a die doing attitude there rather than a do or die one.

It scared Vin at first. Not because Chris was reckless with their lives but with his own, sometimes Vin could almost hear him ticking of the odds of getting killed doing some kind of damn fool move guaranteed to bring down his current target -- and get himself buried in the process. Not really suicidal, just not really caring that much if he died -- as long as he didn't take anyone else with him.

Vin could only hope that Chris' dead wife and son were the angels that kept pulling his ass out the grave again and again.

And maybe that was it after all. Idle thoughts about maybe someday he and Chris "might" became more along the lines of Chris was going to get himself killed before Vin ever got a chance. Before anyone ever got the chance to show Chris Larabee that there was more to living than waiting to die.

Maybe he should talk Chris into moving to Purgatorio.

Bleary eyes took a moment to focus on the lime green clock display. Four something... eleven, and Chris almost didn't want to move because no matter how comfortable the sofa in his office was to sit on -- sleeping on it was pure hell.

And he wasn't twenty-five any more.

The office was dark, just the monitor glow and safety lights. He vaguely remembered Buck coming in to say something about one a.m. -- probably him that had tossed the coverlet over Chris' sleeping form.

He finally sat up, groaning a little as back muscles protested and glad he'd had the sense to pull his gun from its holster and clear it before laying down. Otherwise he might just be tempted to shoot himself.

He sat in the dark for a bit, wondering if there wasn't stuff he could do, but the truth was, he'd woken up because he ached and his nearing-forty body would only take so much.

He could shower here, do something, but he'd gone over most of what they had already and he'd do it again later today. Earliest they could get the rest of Juarez's file would be Monday morning and if one of his guys showed up before ten, he'd be surprised.

It was too far to go back home and he reminded himself that he needed to call Dave Albertson to run up and check the horses. Maybe for a couple of days.

He was on his feet and locking up, heading for the parking garage, before he really thought too much about what he was doing, or why.

His head cleared a bit as he drove, reasons and rationales nagging at him, arguments he knew he wouldn't use, excuses he wished he didn't have to.

It wasn't the first time he'd been to Vin's place. Not even the first time he'd slept there. There was a time he thought he should just give in to the inevitable and find a small apartment in town -- except once there, he doubted he'd have been able to hold onto the fragile connection he had to his home.

Then Vin came along and holding on to that place became important again. Chris really tried not to think on why too much.

It was dark, the hall light out again, but the key ring had a light and the lock was new. He'd just gotten it turned when it opened, and he could barely see Vin's shadow in the dimness, back lit from the ambient light from the windows, light that never faded unless there was a power outage.

"They got these new things called phones, Larabee. You should get one," Vin said, voice soft and almost flat and Chris heard the click as Vin eased the safety back on the gun he had behind his back. The door opened wider and Chris pushed in, closing it, setting the deadbolt, listening as Vin ejected the clip.

He really wasn't thinking right. He pulled his own gun and followed Vin's example, sliding the clip into the pocket of his jacket.

"Need anything?" Vin asked. He hadn't turned the lights on and Chris was tempted, but he didn't ask, just watched Vin run a hand through his tangled hair.

"Just sleep."

He got a snort in response, Vin heading back to the bedroom and Chris followed, shedding his coat and pulling at his shirt as he walked.

There was more light here: an unfortunately placed street light casting a square of brightness across the headboard and wall. Vin took the brighter side even though Chris knew the tangled sheets on the other side were where Vin usually slept.

Must be love, he thought silently, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off shoes and socks and jeans. Laying back, his muscles screamed a unified "thank you" and Chris felt at least half the tension he'd been carrying slip away. It took a moment for him to settle, reach across and feel smooth skin.

Vin only moved over into the shadowy side of the bed, let Chris roll over, and then fit himself to Chris' back, arm around his waist, solid and secure, the long, hard length of him like an anchor.

"He's a sick son of a bitch, Vin," he whispered.

Fears voiced didn't actually make them go away, it just gave him something to face.

Vin's lips pressed softly to his shoulder, his arms tightened around Chris slightly and Chris closed his eyes.

He wasn't surprised that Vin was gone in the morning, just after seven a.m. and Chris found the scribbled note. He remembered him getting up. Remembered the sound of rain on the window glass, the soft shush of it making it easier to slip back into sleep. The note was short: *B-fast. Back sn. V.*

It was still raining, grey skies dark and unbroken, the rain already puddling in the streets when Chris looked out. It made it seem colder than it was. By the time Chris had showered and redressed, Vin was back, the scent of fresh coffee and food luring Chris out of the bathroom still dressing.

Vin slid large cup of coffee toward him and a plate of freshly made breakfast burritos. There was other stuff as well, staples mostly, Vin putting them into the refrigerator and cabinets as he sipped his own coffee, then headed for the bathroom to get his own shower.

They'd be early and for half a minute Chris thought about ducking back into the shower, maybe coaxing Vin back to bed for something other than rest. Instead he called Albertson, then sat down to watch the news on CNN while waiting for Vin.

They took Chris' Ram, leaving Vin's open sided Jeep in all its soggy sorriness at the curb. Once in the office, Vin went to check the wires, not really expecting anything to have come across so fast but you never knew. Josiah was the first one in, the hand written notes he'd taken the night before transferred to 3x5 note cards and Chris came out to watch him as he pinned them to the big cloth board in the bullpen.

Significant events in Juarez's life, documented and actually not having a whole lot to do with his...alleged...illegal activities. Chris had seen it before, the mapping of a criminal's life in bits and bites, looking for something in between the facts that would give them some leverage. Juarez was fifty-three years old, and it still bothered Chris that with as much bird-dogging as had been done on the man that this kink Culver had revealed hadn't show up sooner. How could someone not have noticed something like this?

The answer was less than ten feet away, Vin doing his own review of sorts, looking at the surveillance logs -- tedious work at best and twice as difficult for Vin, but given a few hours and he'd have it locked down in his memory where it wouldn't budge.

He hadn't seen it with Vin -- granted, his partner's preference wasn't quite the same thing or maybe it was. Appearances were important to Juarez, certain contacts in his arena wouldn't be too thrilled to know the man tended to collect house boys.

Josiah finished and sat back on the edge of his desk, studying the layout. Birth, education, when his parents died -- his grandparents. His moves from Venezuela to Hong Kong to Okinawa and back to South America then to Texas, Georgia, Florida, California and finally to Denver. Six years in Europe, back and forth for a few years. A few years at best and he would shift operations, household, everything.

Married once, some ten years earlier -- separated three years later. No children, no siblings. If he had surviving family, no one had stepped up to claim kinship.

"Anything, Josiah?" Chris asked.

"The Lord has yet to grace me with divine inspiration," Josiah said, studying the board. "So, we'll have to do this the hard way. The man had a long life before he became of interest to our government. There's been some intense scrutiny since then, but he is...intelligent, patient and above reproach in public."

"Chance Culver's lying or a plant?"

"It may well be a lie, but it isn't often that petty criminals such as the type Mr. Culver might encounter would be name dropping on Mr. Juarez. He is strictly a big leaguer," Josiah said folding his arms over his chest. "Did you know that he attended seminary immediately upon graduating from university? His father probably thought that a fitting profession for a bastard son."

"Catholic."

"Devoutly. Attends regular mass at Holy Redeemer, donates generously."

"Pass the donation plate and the ammunition," Chris said darkly. "Pays his taxes, helps little old ladies across the street."

"Propositions young men and treats them to a life of wealth and luxury and makes few demands upon them."

"On Culver anyway."

Josiah nodded. "It doesn't fit, Chris."

Vin moved up, glancing at the cards but was more interested in what Josiah had to say. "He can't be Catholic and like men? Ain't the church losing that battle?"

"Daily and badly, Mr. Tanner, but...Mr. Juarez is not the church, only a churchgoer. Do as I say, not as I do, would apply here. He supplies guns to 'rebellious' elements. He sells drugs to buy guns, sells guns to buy drugs..."

"And isn't setting up trust funds for the kids he's smuggling in to work for nothing and die young," Vin said softly.

"No. He's not." Josiah only stared at the cards.

"What about the ex-wife?" Chris asked.

"Dead. Car accident some six months after she left him." Josiah reached over to tap the card. "She filed for an annulment first. It was denied."

"After three years?" Vin snorted. "Stretching the conjugal angle."

"It was denied because she was pregnant," Josiah said quietly.

Chris blanked his mind. "Cause of death -- Juarez have anything to do with it?"

"Not that could be proven. Stormy night. Iced roads. Everything indicates she lost control of the car. No blown out tires, no impact marks or paint from another car. She slid off the road near Make Nice Pass. Killed on impact some six hundred feet down. Truck driver saw her go over and said there wasn't anyone else."

"Did he fight the annulment? Or was it the church?"

"I don't know. I need the rest of the file."

"So maybe he liked men and it pissed her off," Vin said.

"Married for heirs...," Josiah said. "There may have been conditions to the separation."

"Do we know the child was his?" Chris asked staring at that card. Too close too home. Far, far too close. He felt a little queasy.

Vin was there, at his shoulder, not touching him. He could feel the warmth though, smell the soap and aftershave.

"I'll see what I can uncover," Josiah said, but his expression remained thoughtful.

Chris gripped his shoulder briefly. "Take Culver apart if you have to, Josiah. We need what he knows."

Vin was back reading the surveillance reports before Chris turned around.

By ten, Chris had already started on the ibuprofen, washing them down with Mylanta. Ezra came in -- dressed down for him in slacks and a polo shirt with a sports jacket that looked like every fiber had been brushed. Chris saw him and called he and Vin into the office.

"Glad I stopped for coffee on the way in," Ezra muttered. Vin only grinned and followed him.

"Run it down for me. Saturday." Chris sat on the edge of his desk, gaze slipping toward the rain splattering on the window.

Ezra took a seat, crossing his legs and making sure his coat wasn't bunched. "It's a fundraiser of sorts. Lacrosse match, wonderful food, expensive wines. Donations gratefully accepted. The recipient PAC is for the North American Free Trade agreements."

"Great way to open the borders for...," Chris said.

"Immigration, produce, steel, ore, trucking." Ezra checked his manicure and grinned at Chris.

"Slavery, drugs...," Vin said.

"Mexico is easier than the Gulf, yes," Ezra said. "It's a fairly regular thing with him, every few months. There's a perverse pleasure in seeing the drug lords rub elbows with the local bourgeoisie."

"Been invited before," Chris said, checking a file folder on his desk.

"Twice. The first was a fairly innocuous affair -- a chamber orchestra raising money for the Denver Symphony. Then again about three months ago. Unfortunately we were in the middle of the Alveros set up and I was otherwise engaged. I tendered my sincere apologies and a...token donation."

"On Bureau funds?"

Ezra smiled. "Charity of choice was Holy Redeemer. Smoothing the wheels, Mr. Larabee. There is word that a sizable influx of cocaine is anticipated. I'm hoping Mr. Juarez is looking for distributors."

"Who's your lead in?"

"A gentleman by the name of Estevan Torvado. He's three or four steps away, I'm afraid. It's as close as I've been able to get and to be honest, I'm not sure it's Juarez he's linked his fortunes with. However, he was at another small soiree Juarez attended in Amarillo about six months ago."

Chris nodded. "You got the rough from Buck?"

"I did. I don't actually think Mr. Juarez is likely to do much more than be polite should I arrive with a...companion. I attended the chamber recital alone but others did not. It was a diverse assortment of personalities," Ezra said without looking at Vin and Vin kicked him lightly.

"Notice anyone with Juarez?"

"Not specifically. He tends to circulate, play the dignified suitor with the older ladies. Have we pictures of any of his prior houseguests?"

"We're trying to get a picture of Jenkins, but he may not have been there then," Vin said. "We don't have any other names yet. One before him but Culver didn't know him and if Jenkins mentioned his name, Culver didn't tag it."

Chris was quiet, getting off the desk to stare outside.

"Chris...we have five days," Vin said quietly. "Something may break."

"Do it," Chris said after a moment. "Bring him up to speed. Ez. Get me a simple cover we can make solid as gold in a few days."

"It will have to be business. Possibly light muscle," Ezra said and both Chris and Vin looked at him.

Ezra sighed softly. "If Mr. Juarez is likely to take to Mr. Tanner's charms...your body is not exactly unscarred, Vin."

Vin squirmed a little, light flush on his cheeks that made Chris smile for the first time all day.

"Light muscle. Pull up...bust earlier this year, Vin. You drove."

"That can work," Vin said, recalling the case. "Less than a year and chances are some of the accounts are still good."

"I want it outlined before you leave today," Chris said and dismissed them.

Ezra rose first, going to the door. "I have a meeting with Torvado later this week. Vin might could accompany me. Corroboration."

"Is he likely to get jumpy?"

Ezra shook his head. "I think it unlikely. I've had Layton and Holmes playing drivers. A new one wouldn't be thought odd."

Chris nodded and they left him.

He didn't turn around until they were gone, Vin pulling up a chair beside Ezra so Ezra could pull out stats and accounts, see if they could resurrect a personality for Vin in a few short hours. It would normally take days and Chris knew he was pushing it -- it annoyed him that the pair of them would likely make the deadline.

He wanted an excuse to say no. There was a huge personal reason, yeah, but there was more. Josiah couldn't make the pieces fit and Chris didn't like that. Ezra should have protested more.

Vin shouldn't be so damn eager to put his neck out. It wasn't even so much the idea of another man watching him, wanting him, touching him...except it was. That Vin would allow it, that Chris would let him get away with it. That it could happen and Chris wouldn't be able to get to him if it went bad.

He wasn't being unfair to himself: He worried every time Ezra went under, and Ezra had been willing and able to do things even less savory. Josiah had done the same and it made Chris' skin crawl. It made his skin crawl when he'd done it.

Culver was scared and Vin...wasn't.

Any other time he would admire his partner's confidence, and he understood, partly, what drove Vin to want this one so badly and not all of it was about a truck load of kids found on an Oklahoma highway.

He had to be able to do his job, and Chris did too. Lies or half truths or not, they had to be able to do that much or the lies they weren't quite telling would be pointless. He wanted to be able to ask Vin that. //Is this a test, Vin?//

If it was, even asking would be a failure of sorts.

He'd rather fail.

Someone sent out for food at about two and Vin managed to grab an order for something not likely to keep him up all night -- then had no chance to eat it when they brought Culver back up. This time Ezra went as well, Chris taking notes, Josiah asking questions and if anything, Culver looked even more scared.

He'd had no idea what kind of man he gotten tangled up with. Unfortunately there wasn't much more he could tell them. Layout of the house, some of the names of the staff -- the fact that the housekeeping staff all had rooms on the top floors of the converted resort, that the central wing was where Juarez conducted most of his life. Some of it Ezra could confirm, waiting until they'd given Culver a break. If the kid was lying, he was damn good at it and Josiah didn't think he was. Or not about what he was saying...there was just the barest hesitation at points that made them all think Culver was still holding something back.

They had the cover put together in time for Chris to review it and he didn't look that pleased. Vin tried to ignore the doubt he saw in Chris' eyes. It remained there after they quit at eight, all of them headed out for a late dinner and to de-stress a little at The Saloon. Vin got Chris to play a game of pool with him, ignoring the bets Ezra laid and watching Chris methodically knock him out of the game.

Buck was uncharacteristically quiet. Oh, he flirted with Inez, teased the waitresses, gave JD a hard time but Vin could have used another shirt for the holes Buck was boring into his back with his gaze.

Well, he'd told the man to think it over.

By eleven, Vin was ready to get out, rain or no rain. Chris picked up his jacket without a word and Vin was half tempted to get one of the others to drive him home. His apartment was like to be a bit chilly.

Better to have it out now though because he'd go crazy if he had to wait all week for Chris to get it off his chest.

He ended up having to wait anyway because Chris just dropped him off and headed back out into the rain.

Chris was cool and on all business on Monday morning and Vin took his cue from that. There wasn't much else he could do, except keep planning, work with Ezra, get ready for the meet with Torvado and pray the storm would pass. Either of them.

The meet with Torvado was brief and easy, Ezra parting company with the man like they were old friends and Torvado barely giving Vin a second glance.

The weather didn't look to break and if it didn't, Juarez would postpone his little fundraiser. Chris looked downright pleased when the weather reports kept rolling in. Flooding on the highways, overflowing gutters. But it broke on Thursday morning, sun searing the sky and the ground like it had forgotten to do its job and was embarrassed -- making up for it with temperatures that hit the high nineties. Denver nearly melted.

Ezra brought clothes in, Vin raising an eyebrow at the silk and rich colors. He'd already suffered through a hair cut to trim the ends, and a manicure, almost glad when Buck gave him hard time about it.

"Vin. Ezra. Op summary," Chris called them and he was back to being humorless and short tempered. Josiah's cloth board had been moved to the conference room, and it and the wall were covered in more cards than Vin wanted to think about counting.

JD had the surveillance laid out. Closest they could get was a fire/avalanche tower about a quarter mile away. "We can see most of the grounds from the gate to the front of the house, then there's not much we can see inside. Checked the catering for this shindig but..." He shrugged.

"Orders are to bring the food to the gates. House staff will ferry it up," Buck said. "Secret service should take lessons from this guy."

"Josiah...," Chris said. He'd come in and sat to one side of the board. Most of what was offered, he'd already heard.

"Last of the case reports came in this morning," Josiah said. "Maria-Anita Saphina Gonzales. She was twenty-seven when she married Juarez. Indications are it was partially arranged. Her family was well-off reportedly, but likely to lose all if not some of their assets until their new son-in-law bailed out the family farm. Literally. They ran cattle in Texas. Findings of the coroner indicate she died of traumatic blood loss following the accident. Severed femoral artery from a bit of the dashboard. No conclusive evidence if the child was Juarez's or not. No DNA material to get a match. She did have a boyfriend at the time of her death. Enrique Alvarez -- he'd be thirty-two now. Last known address was Tulsa."

"Nathan and Josiah are headed out tonight to see if they can find him, " Chris said, quietly.

"We can't get the transcripts, if there are any, of the annulment proceedings. Church documents," Josiah said and scratched at his beard. "There was a trust set up for her when she left -- Juarez apparently had every intention of supporting her regardless of their living arrangements."

"What did Mr. Juarez get out of the Gonzales bail out besides a bride?" Ezra asked.

Josiah gave him a broad smile. It wasn't particularly pleasant. "Mrs. Juarez was made the sole heir of her parent's estate, despite having a younger brother. They died a year before she left him."

"Jesus," Vin said softly and JD looked slightly confused.

"The Mrs. died and because Juarez was still married to her, he inherited everything," Chris said quietly. "What happened to the son?"

Josiah shook his head. "No one has kept tabs on him but I've started inquiries and we have a picture," he said and slid two pictures across the table. One was of a pretty, smiling young woman, dark hair and eyes, full lips. The other was of a younger man, early twenties, not as pretty as his sister but attractive.

"How'd her folks die?" Vin asked.

"Car accident," Josiah said. "No conclusive evidence of foul play."

"Uh huh," Buck said, looking at the pictures. "Son of a bitch plays for keeps."

"It seems unlikely that Mr. Juarez had real interest in a cattle ranch," Ezra said.

"He sold it shortly after Maria's death, just after he moved to Denver," Josiah said.

"And the rest," Chris said, deliberately not looking at Vin.

"The rest is inconclusive. There's nothing in over ten years of observation that indicates Juarez has interest in men in a sexual fashion. This is either a new obsession or..."

"Or he is being astonishingly discreet," Ezra said, glancing up at Josiah. "Which would be prudent on a great many levels."

"Just so, brother Ezra," Josiah said, inclining his head.

"Nothing on Jenkins?" Nathan asked, looking over the cards falling under Culver's name.

"Not so far," JD said looking particularly disappointed. "We got a picture from the fitness club he worked for and got it out on the wire but nothing's come in. He hadn't been working there but for a few months."

"Family?"

"None to speak of. Mother lives in Missouri but she says she ain't heard from him in about five years. And didn't seem too distraught about it," Buck said. "Culver's about the same. Falling out with his father over his...uh...preferences. They don't talk. Got an earful from him on not wanting to know if his boy had died from AIDS or anything. Nice fella," Buck said with a disgusted face.

Vin just barely registered it, watching Chris without actually looking at him. They all were, although the others were more obviously waiting.

"Find Alvarez. We'll keep going but...if we get nothing else...a week, Vin. Then you do what Culver did and cut out." He got up without looking at Vin. "Call it a day unless you got shit to do. Nate, Josiah, I want to hear from you when you hit dirt and then every six hours until you find him." He left the room heading to his office and Vin followed him, lingering in the doorway until Chris looked at him.

"You going to pull it?" Vin asked quietly, closing the door behind him. There was anger just barely checked on Chris' face.

"Not without reason, no," Chris said finally, flatly. "You looking forward to this, Vin? No doubts at all?"

"Not about the case," Vin said. "Jesus, Chris," he kept his voice low, even with the door closed and the glass between them and the bullpen. He took a breath, willing his own anger away. "If you can't handle this, tell me now."

"I'm not the one about to go let some pervert watch me jack off in his house!" Chris snarled at him.

Vin stared at him for a long moment. "No, but you can watch me jack off in your house," he said on barely a whisper, not letting the flash of pain on Chris' face register at all.

"I can handle it. That what you wanted?" Chris said tightly.

Vin opened the door. "That's what I wanted," he said evenly and walked out, grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator.

Vin saw the car long before he heard the knock on his door. He almost didn't answer it except his jeep was there and so was the bike and he wasn't really mad at Ezra. The fire escape ladder rattled as he slid down it, coming in through the window and once more wondering if he should just let it go. He needed to be alone and it looked like a pretty fair bet that he would be unless he answered the door.

Ezra had the patience of a saint. He was leaning against the wall when Vin finally opened the door and only looked up, green eyes searching Vin's face for some sort of welcome, or at least an indicator of his mood. What he got was Vin leaving the door open and stalking back through the apartment. "There's beer," he called back, going through the bedroom back out the window.

"No wine?"

Vin had to smile a little. "If you like Sangria," he said and didn't have to see Ezra to know what his expression would be.

It took Ezra a little longer to reach the roof than Vin expected, but he was already stretched out in one of the cheap lawn chairs he'd hauled up here for patio furniture. They weren't the cleanest after the rain and he only had five left -- one had blown off the roof in the storms even though Vin lashed them to one of the roof vents.

It was hot, with more humidity than Denver usually saw, but it was clear as well, not a single mountain for miles was obscured by cloud or fog or haze, just a little wavery in the heat shimmer. Ezra's delay was explained as he carefully laid a towel across the seat and back of his chair before sitting. Like Vin he braced a foot against the roof edge, looking down and out over what wasn't a particularly pretty view. There was a small playground close by but it was bare of trees: dirt pack and asphalt -- didn't keep the kids from running around like it was their own private Disney world though. Imagination counted for a lot when you didn't have much else.

Ezra had helped himself to one of Vin's domestic microbrews. Vin though the stuff was pretty bad, but then his general opinion was that beer was for getting you drunk slowly. He'd liked the pictures on the box and the label.

Vin wasn't likely to start the conversation, which Ezra knew, but he was taking his own sweet time getting to the point of the visit. "Mr. Larabee took Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sanchez to the airport," he said finally, sipping at the beer and finally surrendering to the heat by stripping off his jacket and hanging it carefully over the back of his chair.

Vin nodded. Centennial airport was on the way to Chris' ranch.

"Mr. Dunne is mightily confused," Ezra said after a moment, when Vin said nothing, only drank his own beer and stared at the horizon.

"I'm sure Buck will explain it to him," Vin said softly.

"I'm not sure Mr. Wilmington is entirely clear on the issues either."

"Then Chris will explain it to him," Vin said, tightly. "Got other things to worry 'bout, Ez. So do you."

"Yes, well," Ezra was quiet, leaning forward in his chair and carefully working the label from the dark glass bottle. "My unannounced presence was prompted by something more than a desire to share office gossip."

Vin waited, glancing over at him. Either the light was fading or Ezra was blushing. "Spit it out, Ez."

"We discussed the necessary illusion of a certain degree of familiarity between us in order to properly invite Mr. Juarez's interest," he said carefully.

Vin could have groaned. Instead he slid a little deeper into his chair. Not embarrassment, but he supposed Ezra might have some reservations. They'd only assured Chris they could manage it. Handle it.

Which Vin could, but it took him a minute to realize that Ezra was having different reservations. He sat up again, taking another sip from his beer and then set it aside. "Ezra," he said and waited for the other man to look up before shifting to crouch in front of him.

And suddenly he was nervous and feeling a little shy. Ezra looked uncertain but resolved and Vin tried to ignore the uncertainty, leaning in and up a little to brush his lips over Ezra's. He gave the other man a moment to moisten his lips, which were dry and pale, before coming in again and this was no light brush of lips.

Not as full or warm or flushed or sweet as Chris' mouth but then again, things always seemed sweeter when you weren't getting them. It took only another moment for Ezra to remember the point of the exercise and then forget it was an exercise. Vin let his knee hit the roof, felt the beer bottle in Ezra's hand press to his side, the coolness a welcome relief from the heat on his skin, running through his veins. Ezra wasn't as pushy as Chris, or as hungry, and Vin tried not to kick himself too much for making the comparisons.

He was rising up then, drawn up as Ezra stood, both of them needing the few seconds to readjust, to not maintain the distance between bodies. Ezra was on the slim side, closer to Vin's own build than Chris' broad chest and tapered waist. Ezra didn't grab for Vin's hair, only kept his hands on Vin's hips, but pressed in.

There was enough interest there to fool anybody -- even Vin -- and he sucked air, pulling back.

Ezra looked a little stunned, a little shocked -- and Vin understood it well enough, but he was confused, trying to sort out his reaction to Ezra from his anger at Chris. There was real desire there, something Vin had never associated with Ezra -- at least not directed at himself, or maybe he'd been as blind to it as Chris had been to him for so long. Difference was, Ezra knew who he was, and how he wanted, long before Chris ever managed to whap himself over the head with the two by four Vin handed him.

Ezra stepped back, putting distance between them carefully -- not jerking away, only gradually letting air come between their bodies and then dropping his hands. He turned a little, profile to Vin, and lifted a steady hand upward to take another swallow of his beer. "I'd say we shall be sufficiently convincing," he said after a moment.

"And then some," Vin agreed pushing his hair back. "Ez..."

"Few of us ever actually find what we are seeking, Mr. Tanner. And it's rarer still to get it without some kind of negotiation being made." He looked at Vin, a cold hardness in his green eyes, even though he was smiling in a way fit to charm ladies or kings. "It's entirely possible Mr. Juarez will want entertainment of some sort, if Mr. Culver's recitation of events is any indication. So, logistics would seem to be the necessary evil. We have any number of options available to us should it be required."

"Logistics," Vin said and shook his head, smiling a little and stepping up to the edge of the roof, bracing a foot on it to look down the four storeys to the street. "Logistically speaking, Ez. I've managed to piss off Chris, probably will piss off Buck and JD before this is over and now you, somehow. So, lessee, keeping that in mind, I like to be fucked, I like to suck cock but if you want to settle for a hand job or a little rimming, I can probably manage it. You want to make sure that illusion will hold up as well?" He didn't look. He was actually thinking that getting fucked hard and fast without anything remotely resembling affection might be exactly what he wanted. "I'm trying to do a job, Ezra. Not prove a point."

"He's scared, Vin." Ezra's voice was softer.

Vin only stared at the horizon. So was he, but admitting that would do exactly what? Give Chris another reason to figure it was a bad idea? "Don't try fixing something that ain't none of your business, Ezra."

"This team is my business," Ezra said flatly and Vin did look at him. The hard, cold look was gone, something else in its place that was neither anger nor fear. Determination maybe. Vin couldn't tell. "It's yours as well."

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Point, Ezra?"

Ezra sighed and ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, leaving it ruffled and less than perfect. Looked good, Vin, thought and smiled at himself for being suddenly so hyper aware after spending years making sure those senses had other outlets. "I'm going to remember this next time we play poker, Mr. Tanner," he said finally and dug his hands in his pockets.

"I know better than to play poker with you, Ez." He sighed and pulled his hands out of his pockets, crossing them over his chest and rocking back and forth with one leg braced on the roof ledge. "This team's the closest thing to family I got, Ez. Can't play favorites in a family and 'spect it to work out right. Can't let one pull the load for the whole thing. If I can't pull my weight, I got no business here."

"You hardly have to prove that you can pull your weight, Vin," Ezra said.

"Maybe not to you all," Vin said quietly.

"Poor reason for doing this," Ezra said.

"Ah, God, Ezra, it's not even half the reason," Vin said. "Seem to be having some trouble making people believe that." He shook his head. "Never mind. Job to do. Same one you do, Chris, Buck...bag the bad guys. Try not to get killed doing it," he said with a small wry smile at Ezra. "I'm poor company, Ezra."

"Hardly that, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said returning the smile and picking up his coat. "I'll see you in time for the final briefing tomorrow. Do you actually know anything about Lacrosse?"

"Kind of like soccer with sticks, ain't it?" Vin asked and grinned when Ezra rolled his eyes.

Ezra's good night was soft and Vin only nodded, not accompanying the man to the door, only waiting on the roof until he saw Ezra pull away. He sat for a while longer, letting his emotions settle as the sun did. Trying to convince himself that he'd left his phone in his apartment so he wouldn't know if Chris called.

Or if he didn't.

He supposed he was a bit of a fool to think it wouldn't matter. Not that he thought the bureaucratic heads of the ATF had a clue, but maybe they'd been right about this one thing. And he knew it -- knew it when he'd accepted the position, and knew he could handle it.

It surprised him that Chris couldn't and it shouldn't have. The man had lost his entire world five years ago and faced with losing someone else that important -- and Vin had no doubts he was that important to Chris -- well it was asking a lot of a man.

Vin had lost his whole world at a far younger age, so long ago the only thing remaining was the ache. He couldn't really remember what his mother looked like, had never known his father. He couldn't remember her voice, her laugh, what color her eyes had been. The only picture he had was black and white. Her hair had been dark, her skin fair...maybe he looked a little like her but it might also be wishful thinking.

And he'd about reconciled himself to the fact that he wasn't likely to be anything but alone. Not necessarily lonely -- he wasn't that averse to a little physical comfort. All of it reinforced as he realized that while girls were very nice, they didn't quite get his blood pumping the way a good looking man did. Ideas of fatherhood, of a settled life faded away pretty fast -- all of it just more or less what was expected and Vin hadn't been or done what anyone expected since his mother died. He had his name, one his mother made sure he understood had some pride attached to it, his rep and himself. Other folks had less.

Chris Larabee had attracted him from the start. Of course, Vin was of a mind that anyone who didn't find Larabee attractive was blind, stupid and had probably been dead for a few years. It wasn't even so much that he was good looking, which he was, but just being around him made you want to breathe a little deeper, stand a little closer, maybe hope that whatever it was would rub off a little. It was as much that "You can do anything you put your mind to" confidence as the way those green eyes looked at you, through you and made you pay attention to everything.

Okay, and he had a seriously nice ass. Vin was smitten in two seconds and had managed to put Larabee on the "out of reach" shelf two minutes after that. And it had only taken him that long because he couldn't tear his eyes away from the man long enough to think straight.

The offer had been a shock. Another few hours of hope and then Vin finally got his act together to realize that Larabee was still off limits, but not entirely out of reach. Better to work for a man who gave a shit than pray every day that Martin or somebody worse didn't get him killed while trying to cover their asses.

It had been okay at first. All other things aside, Team 7 didn't get a lot of down time and Vin had found himself falling right into that strike while the iron is hot mentality with an ease that surprised him. His new teammates had been a confusing mix of seriousness and irreverence and Vin found that he did have a sense of humor after all.

The ATF was a hell of a lot more regulation bound than the Marshals had been -- so much so that Vin had worried for a bit that the paper work alone would get him cut out. He'd fought like hell to get his college degree, but it hadn't prepared him for the ATF, for the fact the Treasury department counted bullets as well as pennies. The first time he'd taken out someone in an op, he'd faced a review board so stern, he was sure he'd done something wrong and was going to get tossed then and there -- if not charged.

Chris had gone with him, seemed nonplussed and then it was over.

He got used to it. He found himself paying attention more and more, in ways he hadn't with the Marshals or even when he'd been on his own tracking bounty rewards. Reports or no, he was pretty startled to find out that a lot of the routines and procedures made sense -- and the ones that didn't, Chris was open to changing.

And it wasn't long before he thought he'd figured out why Chris had chosen the men he had. Strengths and weaknesses carefully balanced, skills and points of view making sure no angle got left open or uncovered.

Not that they never fucked up. They did. They all had scars to prove it and Chris would take an op apart from start to finish to find out why.

Which made it all that much harder for Vin to understand why this time, Chris hadn't seen it coming. Hadn't known or recognized that at some point what he and Vin had was going to be in direct opposition to what either of them needed or wanted.

Vin thought his risk in this was pretty low. He was gathering information, not trying to set up a sting, bring about a bust -- not on this op. And he couldn't figure out how much of it was jealousy and how much of it was fear. The former made him a little queasy. Vin wouldn't be owned or otherwise lose that much of himself to another person -- not even a man as compelling as Chris Larabee. And if it were fear alone -- which Ezra seemed to think it was -- well, it hadn't stopped Chris from sending Vin to the top of a water tower two weeks ago with a dicey shot and no cover. Vin had understood it then, knew Chris had weighed the risk and wasn't entirely happy with it but he'd done it.

He'd do this too, Vin knew. Same thing, same reaction, except Vin wasn't sure they'd have anything to take apart and rebuild when it was over.

And chances were he wouldn't have a job either. One way or the other.

He could survive anything. He'd always relied on that sure knowledge. One day he wouldn't, he knew.

He always really thought it would be a bullet.

Chris looked up when Vin came through the doors. By himself. He looked the same and Chris expected him to look different for some reason. Sinfully tight jeans, square toed cowboy boots, T-shirt with no logo and a lightweight flannel shirt. The dark hair was curled and mussed from the ride over, pushed off his forehead until it got tangled enough to almost stay off his face. He looked up, seeking Chris out as he pushed through the glass doors, eyes locking with Chris' for one long minute before he headed for his desk. Chris got a small smile -- more like a quirk of Vin's lips, and a nod. That was it.

Chris stared at the back of his head for a moment and went back to his office. He'd gotten a call late last night from Josiah, saying he and Nathan were in, would check out Alvarez's last address this morning. Buck had seen to it that a surveillance team was ready for the watch tower and everything Vin and Ezra had outlined to make Vin's cover worked had been checked off.

If all ops went this smooth, Chris would have a lot fewer headaches.

But he did have one. It had started the night before, after Vin had left, and hadn't eased much despite a liberal application of ibuprofen, coffee, cigarettes and earlier this morning a good shot of whiskey. The whiskey had helped him sleep though.

He had a meeting with Travis in an hour for the overview, to make sure the man signed off on everything -- but mostly because Orrin Travis wanted to know what his teams were up to. Most of the time.

The run down was almost anti-climactic, Chris being ruthlessly thorough with the details, and all the while really hoping that Juarez wouldn't find Vin to his liking. He'd lost sight of that, somewhere this week, that they were all busting their butts for something that might not work anyway.

He wanted it not to work out so he could try again -- and not so totally fuck it up. He wasn't sure that he'd get the chance. He was pretty sure Vin would listen. He might even understand, but Chris couldn't start the whole week over 24 hours before Vin was about to go undercover trying to nail a man who treated people who betrayed him like other people treated cockroaches.

But he could make damn sure that his agents were covered as far as Chris could make it happen.

JD gave Vin his new phone -- nothing fancy, just a cell that would show up belonging to one Vincent Taylor if it got checked. There was an apartment on 10th as well, food in the refrigerator, soap scum in the bathroom, magazines with Vin's name and address and a man about Vin's coloring and size living there for the last few days making sure it looked like someone did live there. Regardless of how it went, that's where Vin would return to at the end of the day. There was nothing else Chris or the bureau could do to make sure that his back was covered.

Josiah called again at two, saying they were following leads. Alvarez wasn't at the address they had and hadn't been for a several years. Chris almost called them back. Maybe between he and Buck and Josiah and Nathan they could hog tie Vin and toss him in a spare bedroom somewhere.

Bad idea, but Vin kept looking at him like he expected Chris to pull the plug any second and at the end of the day, Chris was about ready to do just that, but for all the wrong reasons. Like just for the vicious thrill of pissing Vin off.

So he said nothing when Vin got ready to leave for the day, only a whispered "Watch your back" that for a moment he thought Vin heard him say as he walked out. His back stiffened just that much.

Buck, God bless him, tried to get Chris to go out to dinner, a drink, something or anything. Chris sent him home. Then headed home himself, but half way there turned around and headed back.

He'd intended to go to Vin's -- to talk to him, to make sure they were clear before Vin went under. Only Chris wasn't clear. Not anymore.

Four drinks later, he wasn't any clearer but he had managed a pretty good substitute for courage. He didn't use his key, only knocked.

Vin seemed less than surprised to see him, opening the door and leaning on it, so little on his face Chris wondered if he didn't have the wrong man. Vin should be pissed off, annoyed, understanding -- something.

"We need to talk, Vin," Chris said, the obviousness of that so clear on Vin's face Chris felt like an idiot.

"Earlier in the week would have better," Vin said. "Earlier this *evening* would have been better," he added but backed away from the door, letting Chris in. "You want coffee or more whiskey?"

Both. "Coffee."

Vin's clothes for the next day were hanging off the bookcase, slacks pressed, dark sapphire blue silk and charcoal grey. Chris touched them lightly then took the stool at the end of the counter in Vin's kitchen, watched as Vin measured out coffee and water, set out mugs -- and then pulled a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, adding healthy shots to both mugs. Then he leaned on the counter, arms outstretched staring at Chris as the coffee pot gurgled and hissed.

"You've been a total prick this week," Vin said after a long moment. He didn't sound angry, if anything he seemed disappointed, maybe a little bewildered.

"You're covered as far as I can cover you," Chris said, feeling the barb strike as it was intended too.

Vin rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, asshole. I didn't say you'd been incompetent."

Chris smiled a little and picked up his mug, swirling the whiskey around in the bottom. "I don't want you to do this," he said quietly.

"It's my job, Chris. It's yours too."

"I know. Doesn't change the fact that I think it's a...bad situation."

"Not bad enough to call it though," Vin said, almost challenging, and Chris wasn't surprised to see the anger in Vin's eyes. The coffee pot was half full and Vin pulled it, shoving his mug under the still dripping coffee and poured Chris' coffee into his cup before doing the swap and pour thing -- liquid sizzling on the warmer plate like bacon. "You aren't doing me any favors trying to protect me from doing the job you hired me for."

"I didn't hire you to do this."

Vin swore softly, closing his eyes briefly. "Half a dozen guys shoot as well as I do, Larabee."

"That's not what I meant," Chris said, a little of his own anger rising up. Or maybe it was the whiskey. He could be a mean drunk, except he wasn't drunk or close to it.

Vin's eyes narrowed. "Well, a half dozen guys before you have seen me naked too, and likely will again. I'm not your responsibility, Chris"

"The hell you aren't," Chris said, snapping at Vin before all of what he'd said registered. "Last time I checked you still reported to me."

"That can be fixed," Vin hissed softly, and stared at his coffee before tossing the whole thing in the sink. The handle snapped off when it hit the stainless steel, the dark liquid splashing onto the counter. "You want me to resign before or after I do this thing tomorrow?"

"That's a little over dramatic for you, Tanner -- giving warning. Jesus God, Vin! I didn't-- ," Chris stopped, bit down hard on what he'd been going to say. This was all wrong. Not just the op, the whole thing -- it was like Vin was looking for an excuse to quit. "Is that it, Vin? You want out -- out of the op, out of the bureau...out of us?"

Vin was still angry. "Yeah. That's it exactly, Larabee. I've been busting my chops for almost two years because I'm looking for an easy way out. And fucking the boss on the side to make sure there's no question about it. God..." Vin swept a hand through his hair. "There is no us, Chris. I'm not your wife, or your...boyfriend or..."

"Then what are you?" Chris asked, and wondered if they'd ever talked about this, ever defined it, ever even thought about it.

Vin stared at him. "I thought I was your partner. Your friend...lover, yes...whatever. But the other -- It's a job, Chris. Juarez is dirty. He's a fucking killer by proxy and we take him any way we can...and if that includes getting fucked by the son of a bitch, then that's what it takes. That's *us*, Chris. That's who we are, what we do and if you can't get to that then there's nothing for us at all." Vin practically spat the words at him.

Either Chris needed another drink or he'd had too much. He shook his head, struggling to reconcile what he was hearing to what he was feeling. How had he and Vin managed to get so far apart on this and not notice?

Easy answer...God, he'd been thinking Vin was chafing under Chris'...authority. Something. Too cautious. He'd gotten so used to Vin practically reading his mind, he'd had no idea his partner was so far off the mark. "Vin, I'm not...jealous," he said, putting a name to what he finally realized Vin was so pissed about.

"Looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...," Vin said sharply.

"No," Chris said, getting to his feet, watching Vin lift his chin like he'd deck Chris if he so much as reached for him. "It's not that..."

"So you don't give a shit if Juarez watches me jack off?" Vin spat.

"Of course I give a shit! God, Vin, I'm not stone. But that's..."

"Afraid I'll blow it? Blow him, maybe?" Vin was really spoiling for a fight and Chris felt his anger rise to meet it.

"Shut up, Vin," Chris said softly. "It's nothing to do with Juarez...or you or..."

"Then what?"

"I can't be there."

"No, shit, sherlock," Vin said, looking disgusted and angry and, God, Chris realized, Vin really didn't get it and no wonder, given the way Chris had been acting.

And Vin hadn't helped. Chris knew that too, but he wasn't any more prone to talking than Chris was. Maybe his team would benefit from having a good woman around.

"*I* can't be there...," Chris said again, not knowing how else to say it, willing Vin to hear him, to understand.

Vin opened his mouth to speak then just turned away, headed toward the bedroom, stopped and just looked up at the ceiling like he didn't know where he was. What he was doing. When he finally turned back, there was something else on his face and it was in no way better than the anger.

Guilt, shock. Chris didn't know what else.

"If it goes bad, if you get in trouble, if he suspects...I won't be at your back, Vin. And this time I'll know..." Any blessing at all in the death of his wife and son had been the ride back home with Buck. He hadn't known. He hadn't known they were gone until he reached the house, saw the flames, the emergency vehicles. He'd whipped himself into a blind fury for three years because he should have been there.

The only way he'd ever been able to come to any kinds of terms with the slaying of his family was because he hadn't known.

It was like watching a dam break. The anger, the stiffness, the doubt...something Chris hadn't realized was there, bled away.

"I still wanted to be there...I'd rather have died with them, Vin. But I didn't know...I wasn't there because I didn't know they were in danger."

"You aren't God, Chris. You couldn't have known," Vin said. He didn't move.

Chris nodded. "I know. Took me this long to finally accept that...doesn't make it easier, but I know it."

"Chris," Vin said and Chris looked up. Vin had moved closer, a step then he was right in front of him. "You'll be there. You always are...for me," Vin said and it was a huge admission for Vin. "Kind of gotten used to it."

Chris nodded. "Me too. Jeez, Vin...this is..."

"Totally fucked up," Vin said. "Yeah well...pretty much describes most of my life. Don't know why I thought this would be any different. Chris, if you don't hear from me every day...I'm expecting you to bust the gates down, okay? You'll have my back. I know that. Even without...I know that. No matter what. You'll be there."

Chris could only nod. It was almost enough.

"First one to apologize gets fucked," Vin said and there was only a beat before: "I'm sorry, Chris. I shoulda' known better. Known you better...," he said and Chris felt a little dizzy, seeing Vin smile, catching bet and apology all at once and before he could even try and catch up, Vin's mouth was on his, hands at his face, his hair. Desire and relief making him weak, fear making him fierce.

Vin was all heat and urgency, strong enough for both of them, easy to forgive, quick to forgive. His fingers dug into Chris' shirt, pulling him toward the bedroom.

"This is the make up sex part, right?" Chris asked when he came up for air, breathing deeply for the first time in a week. His fear still nagged at him. He understood what Vin meant, but physically he wanted to be able to see Vin, touch him, hear that slightly hoarse voice in his ear.

"Dress rehearsal," Vin said on a low chuckle, pulling at Chris' jeans.

It was a joke. Chris knew it but he needed something else. He gripped Vin's arms; suddenly, intensely aware of the man, of his body, of everything about him from the brightness and confusion in his eyes, the way he swallowed, to the way Vin hit an obstacle, rebounded and kept going. "Do it that way," Chris said, taking a step forward, forcing Vin to take a step back.

Chris let his eyes sweep over Vin's body, slowly, already seeing skin under the cotton and denim. He knew every scar, every dark line of hair from belly to groin. The way his throat and chest flushed and his eyes darkened when he was aroused.

The blue of Vin's eyes was almost non-existent. He pulled back, studied Chris for a long a moment then reached down to pull his T-shirt off. Chris didn't touch him, only let Vin put a little more distance between them, pushing his jeans down and kicking them aside.

Chris just took a long moment to look, fingers curling because he wanted to touch, to trace the scar along the top of Vin's shoulder, push his hair back to uncover the long white silky line of scar tissue. There was another scar along his ribs on the left side and a thin line of cross-marked flesh over his left hip.

And the rest of him was tanned, and dark, down across his hips to groin, the skin barely paler there, the dark hairs at his crotch thick and black, his cock long and flushed, halfway to a salute already. Vin was just long and strong and slender all over.

Chris stepped in, barely touching him, guiding him back to the bed, following him with his eyes as Vin sat and then moved back, toward the center, leaning back on his elbows while Chris took his own clothes off. Vin didn't move, only followed Chris with his eyes and head as Chris went to the head of the bed, pulled a pillow over and sat with his back to the head board, Vin's head just about level with his hip.

Reaching out Chris got a handful of hair, gathering it carefully, pulling Vin's head back and leaned over. Vin watched him, never closing his eyes, not even when Chris kissed him, when he swept Vin's mouth with his tongue, sucked softly and gently on his lip, then on his throat. "Show me...," Chris said, knowing his own voice was raw, his body already aching for something more. "When...if...it's him...let me be there."

Chris almost lost his resolve at the smile Vin gave him, but he held onto it, one hand digging into the mattress and the other releasing Vin's hair and grabbing the headboard instead.

Vin reached back an arm, wrapping his fingers around the wooden slats with one hand, just a few inches from Chris' hand. He shifted a little, bringing his knee up, not obscuring Chris' view of his body. The scar on his thigh was still red and livid, the skin over the small puckered injury not quite as glossy or smooth as the older scars.

His other hand he wrapped around his cock, thumb just brushing the crown, rubbing it lightly, watching Chris, barely blinking as he started to stroke and squeeze, slow and steady.

Chris' mouth felt dry, eyes flickering back and forth between Vin's face and his hand, his dick feeling hot and heavy against his leg, blood filling it as Vin continued to stroke his cock and it became flushed and rigid. Just that...and he bit back a groan as Vin's hips flexed involuntarily, angling the thrusts against his palm. Vin's eyes closed briefly, the roll of his hips more pronounced as he dug his heel into the bed, licking his lips as a sigh escaped him and then his breathing became shallow. The fingers on the slats were white knuckled, his arm stretched tight, his whole body tight and arching. The skin of his cock took on a sheen, semen escaping and slicking Vin's hand, his chest slick as well, a light dusting of sweat from effort and pleasure.

Chris was breathing shallowly too, leaning forward to grip Vin's wrist and pull it away, hearing his lover moan softly. Vin didn't try to pull his wrist away, only writhed a little, seeking stimulation before opening his eyes and panting softly.

Chris let him go, reaching for the firm upthrust of flesh instead and felt Vin's fingers dig into the skin at his back. He stroked, pumped, feeling Vin push back, match his rhythm, knew to the second when it became too much, body shuddering, thick cream covering Chris' hand, Vin's skin, and then Vin was rolling to his side, eyes dark, still panting, pushing Chris back.

Vin took a deeper breath when he fumbled for the bedside table drawer and found what he needed.

There was no more watching then, Chris tasting Vin's release on his hands, on Vin's skin, sucking one nipple and biting it as Vin got the condom on him and oil and then was straddling Chris, his body slick with sweat and passion. Chris rested his forehead on Vin's chest, biting his lip as his lover settled, ass closing tight and hot around Chris ' cock. Vin was barely on his knees, splayed across Chris' thighs. He settled and leaned back. Chris did groan aloud as Vin moved, riding him, slow and easy, then harder, Chris tried to support his back then just tried not to explode when Vin caught his face and kissed him, sucked on his tongue, thrusting inside his mouth. Then Vin pulled away, head back as need and instinct gave in to any kind of control.

Vin drove it, taking Chris hard and fast until Chris clutched at him, felt the searing rush of heat and pleasure so acute it was almost pain. He eased back with Vin's hand keeping him from cracking his head on the head board, shuddered as Vin continued to move for a few moments. Then Vin was still, breathing as harshly as Chris and finally forced to move once more, to ease the cramp in his thighs, holding the condom in place as he lifted his body, then helping Chris get rid of it before collapsing on the bed. Chris rolled over, grabbing for the sheets to cover them, and rested his head on Vin's back.

"Don't think there won't be any payback, Larabee," Vin mumbled, pulling Chris' hand around and threading their fingers together. "Fucking voyeur."

Chris smiled. He was counting on it.

Part Three

Vin was awake before the sun rose, nervousness plaguing him finally even though he'd slept like the dead for a few hours. Chris was still asleep, snoring softly, the lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes both more obvious and less daunting while he slept. The ten years or so he had on Vin didn't always show that much.

Vin didn't like to think that the reason they did now was because of him.

He closed his eyes. He was apparently spending too much time with Chris. Guilt didn't used to ride him so hard. Of course, it had been awhile since Vin had really cared about anyone. Not anything. Anyone. Specific: name and face.

He tried not to think any harder on the flip side of that equation.

Chris Larabee wasn't a petty man and Vin had been taught that jealousy was the pettiest of all sins. He'd been awfully quick to go there, though. Quick to accuse Chris of something that a week ago he'd have laughed at anyone else suggesting.

He hadn't wanted to admit that he was that important to anyone, that what he did or what happened to him could leave that big of a gap in someone's life.

He supposed the department shrinks would say it was all about his mother. Or even his non-entity of a father. "Yes, sirs, ma'am, you're probably right. I'll think on it."

He'd never meant for his life to get so complicated. Hadn't realized that it had until...oh, maybe six hours ago. Let somebody get close, let Chris close the distance until there wasn't hardly any left to speak of and then panicked when he thought it was too close to breathe.

Problem was, Vin didn't know how to get to where he'd been from where he was and a huge part of him didn't even want to try. A smaller but pretty determined part wanted to run like hell. Unfortunately, Chris was a pretty good hand with a lasso.

He looked again, studying Chris face, the line of his body, the way the blonde hair stuck up in places from sleeping. He had to grin at that. Who'd a thought hair so short could manage such interesting positions? He smoothed it, not really too worried about waking Chris up, still smiling when the green eyes cracked open and focused on him.

"You sleep at all?" Chris mumbled, words a little slurred, but he was awake.

"Some." Vin didn't even suggest Chris go back to sleep. Didn't want him to. The lines around his mouth had eased some, rearranged themselves more when Vin slid over, pushing the blankets down and away, Chris helping awkwardly, kicking them with his feet. Vin touched him, stroked over Chris' chest and shoulders, across the line of flesh covering his ribs until Chris squirmed a little, chuckling softly. He took a deeper breath as Vin's hand stroked lower, threading his fingers through the coarse hair at Chris' groin and then around his half firm cock.

Chris' skin was slightly bitter at first taste: salty, familiar as was the way Chris' fingers stroked through his hair, twisting it a little and letting it slip then starting over again. The soft skin stretched and tightened, Vin stroking from base to center, lips brushing his own hand as he took more of Chris, licked and sucked softly, pressed his tongue to the hard vein ridge and stroked upward. Chris’ hips rose with him and Vin lifted his head to look.

The green eyes were glittering with passion and need and Vin licked again, delicately, teasing the small slit with his tongue and watching Chris moisten his own lips. Fingers traced along Vin's spine, making him shiver a little before taking Chris deep again, squeezing his balls as they grew tighter, drawing away from his touch and Chris groaned, thrust and Vin let him. Swallowing around the heavy weight in his mouth, tasting musk and more salt.

He pulled back a little, swallowing more heavily. Chris swore softly, watching him swallow, body trembling as Vin sucked him, milked him, wiped his mouth and grinned. Chris was so easy in the morning.

He got jerked by the arm and tumbled, flat on his back with still slightly gasping Chris Larabee on top, staring down at him with a mix of annoyance and amusement, a wicked glint in his eyes that made Vin pretty much come to attention in a flash shock of desire. Something warmed in Chris' eyes, and then he was kissing Vin fiercely, possessively.

It wasn't so much wrestling as just trying to get more, touch more. Chris' hand closed around him and Vin just arched, swearing softly, in pleasure, ready to fuck himself against Chris' hand. Chris eased his grip, reach back to the drawer, far easier and more sure-fingered at getting the latex open and oiled, kissing Vin harshly as he rolled the rubber down, then shifted, grabbing a pillow and shoving under his belly and hips before laying face down, mute request far more eloquent than begging Vin to fuck him.

It wasn't the first time, but it wasn't the most common choice for either of them -- Vin having no problem with being the receiver, but Chris had been curious enough to find out what left his lover with such a smug look on his face. The first time had been slow, easy, Vin spending a lot of time making sure Chris wouldn't feel anything but pleasure. It had been so tight, Chris so hot and then almost amazed at what he felt, satisfied later but he'd been sore for a day or so. Repetition eased it some but still it was not always the first thing to come to his mind as it often was with Vin.

Vin slid over, pressing his body against Chris' back, letting the other man shift, move his leg a little. Their fingers tangled, Chris' hand clenching a little as Vin first pressed inward, the only acknowledgement he made that there was discomfort.

Vin held himself steady, trembling, until Chris ' grip eased and he relaxed. Vin groaned softly, the tightness almost more than he could stand and Chris shifted, hissing in pleasure at the stroke of Vin's cock deep inside him. Vin rubbed his hand over the firm flesh of Chris' ass and hip, trying for an easy, steady rhythm and a better angle as he always did, only to have it all fall apart as pressure and sensation washed over him, made his stomach clench in anticipation. Chris moved to meet him, whispered his name, and Vin buried his face in Chris' neck, hips flexing and pressing until his whole body tightened and released.

Vin pressed himself back against Chris' back before the other man had totally recovered, both of them laying there quiet and holding onto the stillness as the room gradually brightened and the city woke up.

The clock on Vin's night stand inched toward 6:30 and Vin pressed his lips to the back of Chris' neck. "I gotta get moving, pard," he said, regret not heavy, but there.

Chris hand tightened on his for a moment. "Be careful, Vin."

Vin only mussed his hair a bit, levering himself off Chris' back. "You'll be there," he said and headed for the bathroom to shower and get dressed.

Chris had coffee ready by the time Vin emerged, ducking into the bathroom for his own quick shower. He didn't linger, didn't offer Vin a kiss goodbye. "I'll be on first watch at the tower," he said and then was gone -- not escaping, only giving Vin time and room enough to get his head in the right space.

By eight, Vin was dressed, had taken a few of his own things and thrown them into a shoulder bag and called a cab. He arrived at his prepped apartment, glancing over at the reserved space and the late model Camaro parked there before heading up.

He'd been over once already, to make sure he knew where things were, just in case, not much to see and pre-furnished. He made another pot of coffee as much to familiarize himself with the contents of the cabinets as to give himself something to do. Faced now with the actual job only a few hours away, he found himself nervous and doubting his own sanity.

Undercover work had never been his first choice. That Ezra did almost nothing but, gave Vin some pretty strong reasons to admire the man. It wasn't the lying -- Vin could suffer that for a case when he wouldn't tolerate much of it in his day to day life. But to immerse himself into an entire other personality the way Ezra did, wasn't something that came easily or naturally to him. Nor would he with this -- keeping close to the truth of his own life the obvious choice. Take away the badges and the motives and the legal sanction, much of what Vin had done in his life could be as easily attributed to criminal activities as legal ones.

It was a good thing he didn't actually talk much, he supposed, checking out the front balcony. He needed the space and the air, leaning against he metal railing with a coffee cup in his hands, almost too self conscious, afraid he'd spill something on the shirt. He hadn't done much more than glance at himself in the mirror, barely recognizing himself.

Ezra's arrival was a relief on a lot of levels and Vin met him at the entrance. "Nice ride," he said glancing at the BMW Ezra was driving.

"Hopelessly overclassed," Ezra said and tossed the keys to Vin. "I have no doubts at all that every vehicle at Juarez's will be an SUV. We could have taken your jeep."

They switched places, Vin grinning and glad to be the one driving. It would give him something to think about. Ezra was dressed similarly but with a button down instead of a tank, dark brown suit and boots polished to a gloss, no doubt pulled from his own wardrobe. "Anything change since yesterday?" Vin asked as they pulled out heading out of the city.

"Nothing earth shattering," Ezra said. "There may well be a few faces you recognize, but while there shall be some hint of an unsavory element, the majority will be of the upper crust and Denver's elite...."

"Your kind of folks, Edward," Vin said with a grin, easing the beamer onto 25 and heading north.

"Once upon a time, perhaps," Ezra said, pulling his sunglasses out of their case and sliding them on. "My how the mighty have come up in the world."

It didn't take them long and there was already a long line of cars on the mile of driveway. "Jesus...," Vin said. "Ain't going to be anybody left *in* Denver."

"Rather the point," Ezra said, pulling his invitation out of his pocket. "Anyone who is anyone should be here."

"If they knew," Vin said, shaking his head as they crept forward.

"Most of them would show up anyway. A sad but true fact of life, Mr. Taylor," he said with a wink.

Five minutes later they reached the guard gate and Ezra passed over his invitation. "Edward Stafford and Vincent Taylor," he gave their names and waited for the guard to take down the license plate before they were allowed into the grounds.

Fluorescently vested men and women directed them to parking on a black topped lot and Vin was a little surprised that there were fewer cars than he thought, people already walking toward the remodeled resort and the fields where Vin could see tables and chair set up and some pretty impressive looking single seat bleachers. Beyond that were fences cutting the main grounds from the land beyond, horses watching the influx of people with some interest a few coming right up to accept treats.

There were golf carts ferrying older people and those who didn't want to walk, but Vin and Ezra kept to the walkways, as much to get themselves familiar with the grounds as anything -- flat maps didn't do the place justice. Then again, it had originally been built as a resort, the Tudor styling settling in pretty well against the backdrop of mountains and sky and the valley beyond that looked right into the heart of Denver.

The resort itself rambled out widely, the front porch running the entire length of the structure. Three stories high with the central area opened for the dining room and living rooms, a ballroom, even a small theatre. From what little Ezra knew, Juarez kept his own apartments on the ground floor toward the back, but kept most of the place open for guests. Some of the folks attending today had valets carrying suitcases insides.

"Helluva house party," Vin commented.

"Most people think all his wealth is inherited," Ezra said quietly, topping briefly to get oriented and then checking his watch. "Tents should be there with refreshments. Musicians...Juarez should be there too."

The ground was still wet in places, temporary board walks laid down to protect the guests shoes and possibly the grounds as well. Vin had no problem stepping onto the grass though, grinning when Ezra gave him a look. "You're the dandy. I'm just a working boy," he said.

They hung to the edges at first, Vin's initial nervousness working itself out as he and Ezra worked their way toward the tents. There were beverages being served and a fair assortment of appetizers. A light drift of smoke and the scent of spices, white jacketed men and women setting up another series of tables with platters and warming trays.

Ezra helped himself to champagne but Vin stuck with the bottled water, pretty impressed despite himself. There were few folks in jeans but the atmosphere was pretty casual, groups of people gathering, some drifting over to watch the teams as they warmed up.

After a half hour, Ezra finally caught his elbow. "Our host," he said softly and then smiled as Juarez saw him.

Vin had seen pictures but never seen the man in person. His mixed ancestry was fairly evident, although if Vin hadn't known it, he might never have guessed where the slightly exotic look came from. He was a tall, spare man, just at the edge of looking frail in the way the elderly did and somewhat older than his fifty three years. His skin was still dark though, hair only silver at the temples and sides, eyes almost a colorless grey -- so pale Vin's immediate reaction was the man was blind, except he obviously wasn’t. His eyes were vaguely almond shaped and lifted at the corners -- an inheritance from his Japanese mother. A long, slender hand, immaculately kept and without jewelry was extended and Ezra took it. "I'm very pleased you could attend, Edward. I've not had time to pursue our acquaintance as I would like. I'm pleased you've given me another opportunity," Juarez said with inclination of his head and a small smile.

Vin was glad he had only to get through the basic introductions. Juarez was not really what he expected -- and on meeting him, he couldn't exactly remember what he had expected. He was soft spoken, voice lightly accented and the smile he offered on being introduced was hardly one he usually associated with smugglers and drug czars.

"The pleasure is all mine. My associate, Vincent Taylor," Ezra said and Vin took the hand offered as well, finding Juarez's grip steady and firm, his hand lightly callused. "Vin, our host, Mr. Juarez."

"I'm pleased you could join us today, Mr. Taylor," Juarez said, neither his glance nor his handshake lingering overly long.

"Appreciate the opportunity to meet you, Mr. Juarez," Vin said.

"I was afraid the weather wouldn't break and you'd be forced to postpone," Ezra said when Juarez seemed inclined to remain for a few moments. Vin was a little surprised at that. Maybe Ezra was closer to getting in than he thought.

Juarez smiled and looked up at the clear skies. "My fears as well, but it would seem a blessing has been bestowed upon us. I will take it as an omen that our cause is a favored one."

"Auspiciousness should never be taken for granted," Ezra said.

"Are you a follower of the game, Mr. Taylor?" Juarez asked.

"'fraid not, although I like most competitions," Vin said. "Like soccer, isn't it?"

"With sticks," Ezra deadpanned and Juarez laughed.

"Somewhat. Are you a sporting man, Mr. Taylor? I understand Edward is betting man." The smile he bestowed on Ezra couldn't be anything but teasing.

"Only in friendly games," Ezra said. "Vin is slightly more athletic," he said, glancing at his companion and if he'd been anyone but Ezra, Vin would have been blushing hard..

"Not so much teams...little basketball, ride some."

"Also a passion of mine," Juarez said. "Feel free to tour the stables, if you like. Perhaps polo would have more appeal -- not unlike soccer -- with horses."

Vin smiled a little. "Think I might have caught a game or two of that. Do you play?" he asked, letting what he knew of the man fall by the wayside for the moment.

"When I was much younger," Juarez admitted. "I hope you find the match to your liking, Mr. Taylor. Edward, if you have a few moments after the match..."

"I'm entirely at your disposal, sir," Ezra said.

"Such old world charm, Edward. A lost art, I fear. Excuse me -- Mr. Taylor, I hope you enjoy the game," Juarez said and inclined his head again, moving away. Almost like shadows two men detached themselves from the groups of people nearby and followed him discreetly.

"Seems more interested in you," Vin said quietly.

"Possibly. We won't see him again until afterwards, I'm sure. So..."

"Now I could use something stronger than water," Vin said and they headed back to the tents. "Not really what I ..."

"Expected. I know," Ezra said, easing his hands into his pockets. "Hard to describe or deal with."

"Like somebody's grandfather," Vin said. They reached the tents, but Vin asked only for another water. "What time's the match?"

"Noon."

"Gonna wander a bit," Vin said, jerking his head toward the stables. "Meet you back here in about thirty."

Ezra nodded. "I'll see who else is attending. Appearances," he said, leaning in, not so much for a kiss as the closer contact. "Don't wander off with any strange men." He grinned at Vin.

They parted, neither of them in any hurry to get anywhere. Vin wasn't the only one at the stables and there was a basket of apples set out on a white covered table near the fence -- far enough to keep the horses from getting to it but obviously there for the delight of the guests. Just standing at the fence, Vin was able to count about twenty head, unhaltered and running or trotting, all geldings or mares -- the mares keeping their altered counterparts in check when they got a little spirited.

He wandered up toward the stable proper -- a structure newer than the resort but done in the same style. Few white jacketed staff here, only half dozen hands, one older man talking to a few better dressed guests. Another pen beyond and Vin stopped, had to work his way around the corral set apart from the other fencing and the dirt torn up a bit.

A young stallion glared at him, ran to the far fence then charged to the middle in warning before backing off. Vin glanced around, saw the carrier parked not far way. This one was still wearing a halter. Vin pressed up further, leaning his arms on the top of the fence, clucking his tongue. Maybe he should have picked up an apple.

The stallion charged again and then trotted away, tail high, circling the fence and tossing his head at Vin as he passed, baring teeth.

"Little out of sorts are you fella?" Vin said softly, not moving, only watching the horse make sure Vin knew he was encroaching on the animal's space. He should be looking around but he was fascinated. Someone had any eye for beauty.

He watched for a few minutes, the horse's passes getting slower as he accepted that Vin wasn't a threat, wasn't trying to trick him into a carrier or anything, then stopped, pawing the ground a little, and lost interest. Vin smiled at him and rocked back, walking back toward the stable and grinning when the animal paced him until it reached the end of its ability to follow. The horse gave an irritated snort and pranced away. Vin only chuckled and kept walking.

"Orochristos seems taken with you, Mr. Taylor."

Vin turned, startled, watching a little warily as Juarez approached, his shadows hanging back by the trailer.

"I didn't mean to startle you. I came to check. He was supposed to have arrived earlier this week and would have been settled. The rains...delayed transport," Juarez said.

Vin relaxed. "He's a beautiful animal."

"Very spirited. His sire is Sangrechristos...do you keep up with breeding stock, Mr. Taylor?" Juarez said walking along the fence line and Vin took a second before accompanying him.

"Not as a breeder. High stakes for me, but I appreciate good stock."

"The sire was a triple crown contender a few years back. He no longer races and I'm not a competitor myself, but I also appreciate good stock. Good lines...in horses."

Vin glanced back. "Christ's Gold...pretty high goals for a yearling."

Juarez laughed. "Closer to eighteen months and not likely to be put to the races either. He's temperamental...too skittish for racing...but...as you say, a beautiful animal and once broken a bit more, a ride worth having. He's been ground trained but I wanted the pleasure of the breaking -- at least under my direction."

"You run a lot of horses here for someone who doesn't breed," Vin said.

"I have a great many guests and even so...if I did not, I would still have them. I like to watch them run," Juarez said, looking toward the fields. "It's a hobby, one might say. Some people garden. I collect horses and let them run."

"Think I like your hobby better," Vin said.

Juarez smiled. "Perhaps...after this days activities are over, you would like to come back and ride?"

Vin hadn't seen it coming and he found himself, nodding. "I'd like that. Don't get to ride much."

"But some," Juarez said. They were walking slowly but not annoyingly so, Juarez's path leading them back to the playing fields.

Vin shrugged. "When I can. Denver's not exactly known for its cheap stables."

"Have you been in Denver long?"

Vin hesitated, glancing at his host. "'bout six months or so."

"Working for Mr. Stafford?"

"Now and again," Vin said cautiously, but trying not to be too wary. The conversation was only odd because of Juarez's interest and thus far, Vin had picked up on nothing -- no more than polite interest.

"Perhaps I can arrange to have him provide you with more work," Juarez said.

"Never turn down work when and where I can get it," Vin said.

"A freelancer, then," Juarez said with a small laugh. "Were I younger, Mr. Taylor, I might be tempted once more to drift from place to place."

"Keeps things interesting," Vin said with a smile. They were closer to the grounds, more people. "I should find Ed."

"Afraid someone else will catch his eye?" Juarez asked and Vin frowned slightly, not sure how to play it and then gave up trying to second guess his answers.

"Might. Don't own him, but he is my ride home."

"Well, I'm hoping you and he will remain this evening. More business than pleasure I fear, but I'll endeavor to make it interesting and worth your while," Juarez said. "Until later, Mr. Taylor."

"Mr. Juarez," Vin said, almost wishing he had a hat to tip. The man just came across that way -- like something out of another century. If that was a pick up, it was the weirdest one he'd ever encountered.

He tracked down Ezra, approaching more cautiously when he recognized Torvado. Ezra seemed relaxed though, almost in too much of a good mood although maybe the champagne was helping. Or giving the illusion of it. Ezra had a pretty impressive tolerance for alcohol.

Torvado gave Vin a longer look over than he had on their first meeting, glancing at Ezra who only smiled blandly, but whatever topic they had been pursuing was dropped at Vin's arrival.

"Game's about to start." Ezra got a refill on his champagne and they walked across the boardwalk to where the stands had been erected.

"Met Juarez at the stables. I think we're being invited for dinner."

"I saw him walking with you. Did he bite?"

"Hell if I know," Vin said as they moved to one side to let people get to seats. "Talked about horses some and you. He did ask me if I was afraid someone else beside me might catch your fancy."

Ezra smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "That sounds promising."

"Maybe," Vin said. "It's weird though...no...looks, no..." He shook his head. "We'll see. Wanna sit?"

"May as well. I'm sure we can wander a bit if we get bored," Ezra said and they found seats at one end of the field at one of the tables, sharing it with an elderly couple and pair of young women. Ezra was soon doing his best to charm all four of their companions. It was as natural as breathing.

The game itself was a bit confusing at first -- but near as Vin could tell it was like soccer, with maybe some ice hockey and a bit of wrestling thrown in. It was fast though and he did admire the ability of the players to handle the ball back and forth. There were obviously a few fans in the group, yelling for goals or when players were fouled.

Vin found himself seeking out Juarez and spotted him twice, sitting and talking with several different people, both groups and alone. The man seemed to have plenty of energy because he never stayed more than a few minutes with anyone, then moved on.

It was an exhibition game, not a full match and after an hour, it broke up, the players shaking hands with each other and the crowd moving toward the tents and tables for a late lunch. Vin found himself getting antsy, trying to relax and ignore his reasons for being here.

Truth was it wasn't something he might have gone to on his own -- fund raisers or just gatherings. He didn't resent the people -- most of whom were oblivious and just having a good time. They were enjoying the hospitality, glad to donate to the cause, and probably would be even if they didn't know what it was. It was the life of a social set Vin had never belonged to and really wasn't interested in joining.

It didn't help that half the staff were Hispanic and Vin found himself wondering how many were here legally or if Juarez only handled human cargo for profit rather than his own use. Another reason he didn't do undercover work -- he didn't have the patience for it.

"You're looking quite fierce, Mr. Taylor," Ezra said quietly.

"Sorry," Vin said and forced himself to relax, and sipped his beer. The food had been an odd mix of Tex-mex and new food trends: tofu and prime rib served side by side. "Any idea what kind of business he has going on tonight?"

Ezra shook his head. "No and Torvado didn't mention staying. We'll just have to play it by ear." He finished his food and wiped his hands. "A little exercise will do you good, Mr. Taylor. Let's walk, shall we?"

Vin didn't know if Ezra really wanted to walk around or just recognized that the number of people and the inactivity were getting on Vin's nerves. Vin found himself heading back toward the stables and Ezra didn't seem to mind following.

There was hardly anyone there but the hands and Vin found himself back at Orochristos' pen.

"This the new addition?" Ezra asked.

"Yeah," Vin said and the horse seemed to tolerate him better this time around although he snorted at Ezra and tossed his head.

"Ever think about getting a ranch of your own, Vin?"

Vin snorted softly. "Right. Land being so cheap and all."

"Always time to look ahead, Vin," Ezra said. "Unless you plan on doing this for the rest of your life."

Vin nodded, watching the horse prance and show off. "Have enough problems thinking about tomorrow.

"Senor Stafford?"

Ezra turned around and Vin with him to see one of the staff waiting politely. "That would be me," Ezra said.

"Senor Juarez asks if you would join him -- and Senor Taylor as well. At the house."

"We are entirely at his disposal," Ezra said and the man smiled and led the way back.

The grounds were clearing out, some of the debris being cleared away. Other people, a far smaller number were wandering into the house, treating it like an exceptionally well appointed hotel. Shadows moved across the sky and Vin looked up, then back toward the horizon. "Jeez. That came up fast."

Ezra glanced back, seeing the line of dark. "More of the same, or so they said on the radio this morning. Weren't expecting it until tomorrow, though."

"Got insurance on that beamer?" Vin asked, grinning at Ezra as they mounted the steps.

They were lead through the more open areas to a smaller study in the back of the house and asked to wait. The man offered them drinks but Ezra waved him off, examining the short wall of books. "Mr. Juarez is quite the scholar: Latin, Spanish, French, German..."

"Travels a lot don't he?" Vin asked studying the books.

Before Ezra could answer the doors opened and Chen Juarez entered. "My apologies for keeping you waiting, gentlemen."

"It's no inconvenience, Mr. Juarez," Ezra said and took the chair offered, Vin settling in the one next to him. "How can I be of service?"

"Mr. Taylor is somewhat in your confidence, I believe?" Juarez said, lifting a bottle of bourbon from the small stand and pouring for all three of them.

Ezra accepted the glass and looked at Vin. "He's a good man to have around in a pinch."

"Excellent. I have a...shipment of goods arriving in Central City tomorrow and my regular supervisor seems to be somewhat...indisposed. I wondered if I might be able to convince you to step into his place?"

Ezra sipped his bourbon and eyed Juarez. "This is rather short notice."

"I will make it worth your while -- I think I can venture it will be profitable for both of you. Perhaps even ...entertaining," Juarez said with a smile at Vin.

"What is the shipment?"

"Ceramics," Juarez said blandly. "Shipped in from the Pacific. It should be a relatively easy transaction."

Ezra considered it. "I had no other pressing plans tomorrow. Vin?"

Vin shrugged. "Nowhere to be."

"I'm very much obligated -- I will ask, however, if it's not too much of an imposition, that you remain...here. This evening. I have arrangements to make and ..."

"Discretion is a matter of some consideration," Ezra said smoothly. "Would it be too much to ask that we...adjourn? I will need to make sure there is nothing to interfere...and if it is to be a few days, well, neither Vin nor I brought additional clothes. We'd be happy to be accompanied by one of your...staff?" Ezra offered when he saw Juarez start to frown.

Juarez's expression eased somewhat. "A not unreasonable request. I'll have Anthony drive you. You will need to start early in the morning."

"Not my best time, but I'm at your service, sir," Ezra said.

Juarez smiled. "Then I'll expect your return in time for dinner and after I've seen to my other guests we can go over the details." He offered his glass up for a toast.

Vin and Ezra stood as well to make the deal and then Juarez excused himself.

They barely had time to exchange more than a glance before Anthony entered, apparently waiting in the hall. He was dressed in a suit, long blond hair tied back neatly. Walking out, he only inquired as to their addresses and they found a sturdy black Land Rover waiting for them at the steps.

There was no opportunity to talk although Ezra pulled his cell and checked his messages, Anthony watching him in the rearview mirror.

The storm had moved in more aggressively by the time they reached Vin's apartment and both Anthony and Ezra accompanied him while he went upstairs to grab some clothes. The phone rang as they were getting ready to leave and he glanced at Anthony. "We have time?"

"According to Mr. Juarez, I'm at your disposal," Anthony said, revealing nothing and Vin punched the speaker button, letting them all hear the call.

"Taylor," Vin said shortly.

"Hey, Vin. It's Charlie..." Chris Larabee's voice was loud and clear and Vin keyed the volume down. "Got a line on that jeep you were looking for -- got time to--"

"Gonna be tied up for a couple of days, Charlie. Can I get back to you tomorrow or early next week?"

"Sure. Looks fine though...nice classic, rag top..."

"I'll call you," Vin said with a grin and Chris signed off. Vin shrugged and turned the lights off, following the other two men out to the car.

They followed the same procedure at Ezra's although there were no phone calls and if Anthony thought anything, he didn't show it on his face. An hour after they left, he was dropping them off at the front door.

A young woman smiled at them and led them upstairs to a pair of rooms sharing a small living room and a common bath between them.

"Senor Juarez said to tell you that dinner will be at seven. You need not dress, it will be a buffet."

"Thank you...you got a name?" Vin asked.

She smiled at him. "Juanita. If you need anything, you call down for me."

"Thank you kindly, senorita," Ezra said and Juanita smiled again and left them.

"Nice," Vin said, looking around then carrying his things into the adjoining room. "Ceramics, huh? Mr. Juarez taking up pottery?"

"He is a man of diverse interests," Ezra said, following Vin's example and starting to change, all the while trying to check the room carefully for bugs or cameras.

There was no obvious surveillance, but it was a good bet the rooms were bugged if nothing else. "Don't know why he needs me," Vin said through the open door, carefully hanging his jacket up and swapping slacks for a pair of chinos and a light sweater. He tossed his wallet on the table as he switched belts then hung up the other clothes.

"Maybe he wants to see if you have ambition," Ezra said with a chuckle and came to lean on the door to Vin's room.

"Small ones," Vin said. "Anything interesting on your messages?"

"Nothing that can't wait. Shall we descend upon our host's hospitality and see if there's anything resembling a cocktail hour?" Ezra said and Vin chuckled.

"Bored with me already?"

"Vincent! I'm shocked. Never. Well, not at the moment anyway," Ezra said and dug his fingers into Vin's belt pulling him close. His mouth closed over Vin's. "Table, lamp. Center," he mumbled softly and Vin nodded and kissed Ezra soundly before pulling away to get his wallet.

He could see a similar bug on the lamp there. Where there was one there was probably more. Camera's would be harder to detect, if they were static: they came so small now, but he checked the most likely places as he tucked his wallet back in his pocket.

As he walked toward the door, he cased the bare walls, saw the cable and looked away again. The beams in the ceiling were most likely false, and therefore hollow, but he didn’t dare hunt for it. He glanced into Ezra’s room as he passed, and thought he could barely see the casing. The ceiling also held smoke detectors – also possibly false – one in each room.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Nearly always," Ezra said with a small leer and Vin just shook his head, then swore when Ezra swatted him on the ass as he left the room.

They went down the stairs and found the living area with its bar and a half dozen people relaxing. Vin let Ezra get his drink and got a beer for himself before leading Ezra outside where they were less likely to be bugged.

"Cabling in the rafters," he said quietly, sipping at the beer and watching the storm clouds move in. "They may be left over...can't tell if they are live. Hell, could be phone lines. Cable TV."

"Have to assume," Ezra said and tugged Vin into the corner of the porch, hands resting on his hips as though they were having a very private conversation. "And presume nothing, at this point," he said softly, nuzzling Vin's throat. "Wasn't expecting this, Vin and it's sudden for him."

"You? Me? Or both?" Vin asked softly.

"Maybe both. If we get busted tomorrow..."

"Go with the flow, bro'...," Vin said, nodding at Ezra. "Can you call it?"

"I can try," Ezra said, and they pulled apart only a little as a group of four also came out to watch the storm.

Vin turned around, putting his back to Ezra and felt the man's hands on his shoulders, rubbing gently. He could hear the horse trumpeting the storm and he stared, but not at the horizon, his eyes narrowing to catch a glimpse of the watch tower in the dimming light.

"Something's up," Chris said, turning his cell phone off. He'd almost been afraid he wouldn't get through with the arriving storm tossing interference, and they were half blocked from Denver by mountains. They'd seen the car leave, Ezra's BMW still in the lot. Surveillance at Vin's picked them up again and Chris had taken a risk in calling.

"What did you get?" Buck asked him. The small tower seemed likely to drive Wilmington crazy. but he'd held it in remarkably well, keeping the visual watch on the ground for most of the afternoon which was about all they could do. There was another team due in for the evening although Chris figured Vin and Ezra were in for the night.

"Vin couldn't talk. Said he'd call tomorrow or early next week. We'll have to wait and see if one or the other of them can get a message out. They weren't supposed to stay."

"Weren't they?" Buck asked. "Wasn't that the point -- to get Vin inside?"

"Yeah but..." Chris pocketed the phone. "They both picked up clothes. I don't know, Buck. We'll have to wait and see. He sounded okay though." He told himself that, that Vin hadn't sounded distressed, only like he couldn't talk.

Twenty minutes later their relief arrived and he and Buck headed back to the office. Chris wanted to see if Josiah and Nathan had checked in, pick up his truck and maybe try and get some sleep. Buck hung out, JD was still trying to track down Cal Jenkins or get a lead on either the man Josiah and Nathan were trying to find, or Maria Gonzales-Juarez's brother, Luis. All traces of the brother seemed to have faded after he graduated from college, although he was mentioned in the wedding announcement of his sister and in the obituary of his parents.

Chris finally got through to Nathan an hour later, not encouraged.

"Checked him through two apartments, Chris, and the leads are at least six years old. His second landlady said he was a church-goer and Josiah found the parish, but the priest has only been there for a couple of years so we're trying to find the one who retired. There's a monastery outside of Tulsa where he may be if he's still alive, and Father Aaron is pretty sure he is but he doesn't provide service to the monastery -- got their own priest."

"Anything JD can help you with?" Chris asked.

"He can try. The man we're looking for is Father David Cummings. Monastery is Franciscan. Our Lady of Hope."

"I'll see what he can find. Anything else we can do, Nate?"

"If I didn't appreciate the irony, I'd say pray, boss. This trail is colder than winter in Denver. Anything with Ezra and Vin?"

"They're staying the night it looks like. Seem to be okay but they can't really report in."

"We're gonna try to get out there early tomorrow," Nathan said. "We'll give you a call afterward."

"Thanks, Nate." Chris was a little disappointed but he wandered out, staring at the board Josiah had put up.

"You wanna grab some dinner, Chris?" Buck asked.

"Yeah. Probably a good idea," Chris said, still staring.

"What?"

"Something...," Chris said, tracing the lines of connection between Juarez and his wife and her boyfriend. "What was Maria Juarez doing in Denver?" he asked.

"When she died?" Buck asked.

"Yeah. They'd been separated for almost six months. Juarez had just gotten here...she was in Tulsa, so what was she doing in Denver?"

Buck chewed the corner of his mustache. "Maybe arranging...I dunno. He left her with a trust. More money. Maybe they stayed...you know, friendly."

"Maybe," Chris acknowledged, too tired to really work it out, and as Buck said there a dozen reasons. Hell, she might have had friends in Denver.

"Bothers you...," Buck said softly.

"Yeah, it does," Chris said and shook his head. "Let's eat, Bucklin. I'm not thinking straight."

He followed Buck and JD, planning on heading home afterward, but let himself get distracted by the pair of them. Buck treated JD like the little brother he'd never had and JD treated Buck like the goofball he was most of the time. He dodged their offer of movies or some other distraction, heading out to the ranch and quelling the desire to go to Vin's apartment.

If he kept working himself up like this he'd be no good to anyone -- least of all Vin and Ezra. He checked on the horses, grinning when Vin's came up nosing for treats. Sire was a glutton and Chris' own mount, Legius, looked on disdainfully from his guarding of the oats Albertson had put out for him.

A crack of thunder startled both horses, send them trotting into the barn and then out again, and Chris headed inside, barely making the porch before the skies opened.

He watched the rain until he started getting wet and then had to go out anyway to make sure he had dry wood. He wouldn't need it for heat but if the power went, he might need it for cooking -- coffee at the very least.

The downpour only lasted for thirty minutes then eased off into a steady fall of water. Chris sipped at a whiskey while listening to it fall on the roof. He fell asleep thinking it was a good thing he and Vin actually had fixed the roof.

When he woke it was hard to tell if it was dawn or not. The rain was still falling, the skies slate grey and covered, and Chris managed to get weather report -- no real indication it would quit anytime soon. Checking his time, he opted for heading to the watchtower first -- traffic delays were inevitable and he didn't want to miss relieving the night watch.

He was more than halfway there when he got the call from Josiah, just letting him know they were headed out – and that Father Cummings was still alive and he’d call later.

Buck was only a few minutes behind him and the guys were more then ready to leave. There were power lines to the tower but they'd been knocked out during the night and the place was damp and cool. They'd taken a call from the forestry service to expect company -- rangers checking for lightning strikes.

"Nothing much happening. Nobody came or went during the night that we saw, but they cleared the grounds before the rain started." One of the agents told him and handed over the logs.

"Thanks, Paul," Chris said. He was reaching for the binoculars when his cell rang. He checked it, then -- waved at Buck to be quiet he saw the number.

"Hello?"

"Charlie, it's Vin. Look I gotta take a run out of town -- be back later today or tomorrow early. Still got my jeep?" Vin's voice was casually friendly.

"Problem?" Chris asked carefully.

"Naw. Actually may help out...just make sure you hold it for me if you can."

"As long as you need me to, Vin," Chris said, smiling a little, but he was worried..

"Thanks, cowboy," Vin said and hung up.

"He's okay. They are," Chris said. "Something going on -- maybe a job."

"You want a tail?"

"If we can, but I've got a feeling we may not have that much time. Sounds like he was getting ready to leave."

Buck nodded and got on the phone, saying he’d see who they had in the field that could pick up a tail fast.

Chris watched, the high powered binoculars picking up only hazy details in the rain. He could see a car but not make out the make or model or even color save it was dark -- or how many people got in.

"Harrison and Campion can be there in fifteen."

Chris shook his head. "Bus is leaving. Dammit," Chris swore. "Looks like the Land Rover but I can't be sure. Put it out. If they see it..."

It was the best he could do and it didn't feel nearly good enough.

Vin waited for the car to be brought up, Ezra beside him as he made his call. They'd checked the night before, wary of setting Juarez off. Dinner had been unremarkable and the discussion following had been short and sweet: Ezra would agent, with Vin and Anthony adding a little muscle. Juarez had offered Vin a weapon, and Vin had taken a risk by turning it down, but Juarez seemed nonplussed, only smiling a little.

"Don't like guns, Mr. Taylor?" he'd asked.

"No problem with them...just rather have my own and since I wasn't planning on needing it...I drive, mostly, Mr. Juarez."

"A cautious man is a good ally," Juarez had said, and then gotten out the small brief. "Payment and transport papers. Look for this mark." He showed them a small crescent stamp mark. "Thirty cases. The man's name is Herndon. Have him drive it to the warehouse of Conestoga and then he can be paid. By cashier's check. I'm afraid I forgot to pay import tax," he said and smiled again.

That had been it and afterwards Vin and Ezra had planned on taking a walk to talk only to be thwarted by the rain. The only other opportunity would have to be whispered and masked and Vin was ready to haul Ezra into the shower with him because it all felt odd, and wrong and he wasn't sure why.

Ezra had other ideas, stopping Vin when he was half undressed and making him lay on the bed. Then he got one of the best massages of his life and Ezra at his most charming, cracking jokes and being pretty flip and excited as a man who'd just got a big contract -- which technically he had. "It's a test," he whispered, straddling Vin's thighs and leaning close, his hands working over the tense spots along Vin's shoulders and back. "Dry run. He says ceramics and it's probably fake Ming vases."

He eased off then and then tickled Vin or tried to, playful and stupid for anyone watching, if they were, and then he'd kissed Vin hard. "Get your beauty rest, Vincent."

"Think you need it more'n me," Vin shot back, liking the way Ezra smiled. A flicker caught his eye and he saw it then: the small red glow. The camera was on and he sucked a breath.

"What is it?" Ezra asked, catching the look but not the cause and Vin scissored his legs around Ezra's thigh where he knelt on the bed, dumping him to his side.

He was going to tell him, he thought, kissing Ezra again to hide it, only to find Ezra's eyes wide and surprised and something else…what Vin had seen on the roof. Hope, maybe. Anticipation -- desire. Lust and doubt too, Vin was pretty sure.

Juarez liked to watch, Vin was ready to deal with that, means to an end. On the list of 'other duties as assigned' for undercover, for this undercover, and it was enough that he could deal with it. Perform for Juarez, for the camera...

It didn't have to be both of them, and even before he thought that through, he was reaching for Ezra's shirt, the other man a little startled and ready to question him, but Vin only smiled, touched, and let Ezra wonder.

"Vin..."

"Say you don't want it...," Vin said softly, asking. He wondered if Ezra would because of some other code Vin wasn't privy to. So he knew and Ezra didn't that there was more here than a performance. He didn't want to use Ezra.

Rationales aside, he didn't want to be used either but he'd stepped up to the plate -- practically knocked everyone else aside to get here. If he had to perform alone, in private, later, for a stranger with a string of bodies behind him, then let him practice first with someone who wasn't quite a stranger but not a lover either. Maybe, could have been, if Vin had been paying attention earlier, if he hadn't been distracted by another set of green eyes, and blond hair instead of brown.

He pulled at Ezra's belt, opened his slacks and before the other man could answer, cupped him and whatever Ezra might have said was lost. Vin didn't give him time to recover much, stroking, feeling Ezra swell and harden, half there already and Vin hadn't been wrong. He bent his head, nuzzling Ezra through the cotton of his briefs. Ezra's shirt was open: he was exposed and hot looking without his usual cool demeanor. Vin peeled the briefs back, Ezra's slacks, leaving them tangled around his thighs, and bent his head.

"Mother of Mary, Vin...," Ezra hissed, rising to meet him and Vin only grinned at him, left him wet and slick.

"Nice equipment, pard," Vin said and had the pleasure of watching Ezra blush. Saw him start to lay back and caught his neck instead, kissing him hard and deep and praying he wouldn't look up. He wanted Ezra honest. He wished his own part were as true but it wasn't lack of attraction or desire. Maybe he was using Ezra...

He could live with it, he thought, moaning when Ezra licked his throat, his collarbone and then his chest, tonguing a nipple with the expertise of someone who liked having it done. His fingers dug into the waistband of Vin's jeans. Too tight, way too tight, and Vin released the buttons, his own cock hard. Ezra slid his hands lower, spreading Vin’s thighs, opening him a little.

"Yeah," he whispered, not daring to say a name, not sure whose would come out: Edward or Ezra...Chris. His jeans slipped and they both got tangled, and Vin laughed a little because Ezra was fighting for control and it was sweet. Vin kicked and squirmed and got bare then helped Ezra do the same. He should feel flattered that Ezra's probably disgustingly expensive slacks ended up in a pile on the floor.

Then he stopped thinking, mostly. Ezra was pale and slim and smooth and warm. The weight was different but he fit, and the green eyes were a little intense, enough to make Vin swallow a little. This shouldn't matter so much. It shouldn't, but it did. Ezra's fingers closed around him, around them, and Vin thrust, closed his eyes and let himself feel what was there, rather than worry where he was -- or with whom, or who else might be watching.

He caught Ezra's head, felt the soft curls around his fingers, taking Ezra's tongue and sucking, wanting more of him, the taste of him. Ezra braced himself on the bed, lifting himself, and Vin wanted the contact back, the rub of Ezra's skin on his, hovering on the edge of something. He felt the blunt edge of Ezra's cock on his own shift again and it was lower. He didn't want to think...which was not smart, but there was an ache there and he didn't want to see Ezra's face.

"Oh, God...Vin...I--" Ezra was holding back, and Vin opened his eyes saw the slim edge of control slip.

"Do it," he said, locking eyes with the man, lifting his hips and gripping Ezra's ass.

Ezra let loose a sound halfway between a moan and a growl, his thumb brushing over Vin's hole and then pressing in. Too slow...leaving gaps of sensation for Vin to adjust to, seconds to think, and he didn't want to think.

There was a camera and an old man, and sometime, someday, who knew how many eyes would see this, and wonder or be angry or even appalled...and if he worried about any of it he might as well just quit now.

Ezra wanted him and that was enough, enough for Vin to want back, just a little, maybe more. He caught Ezra's neck, pulled him down. "Fuck me," he said against the wet mouth, the harsh breaths, opened himself, and then muffled his own gasp when Ezra pushed in, forcing himself past what resistance Vin had and there wasn't much.

Ezra groaned, held himself still for just a moment then began to pump, flexing his hips, thigh muscles tense and hard, driving him in, back arched as he pulled out. It was tight and raw and Vin only met him, thrust for thrust, pushing against him and holding tight. He wasn't sure when it all became about the rhythm and the pressure and the white hot line of sensation that made his spine contract and his stomach tighten, his groin, coming before Ezra was even close and the rest was all a sweet, blurred ride of pleasure. Ezra's back was slick with sweat and Vin stroked it, stroked him, holding tight when the other man tensed and trembled and let go.

Ezra was sucking air, still buried, thick and hot inside Vin. He blinked, and shook his head and the stark pleasure on his face eased then faltered to something not quite shock and something less than horror. "Vin...Jesus...I'm not...wearing..."

It took Vin a minute to understand and he pushed up, kissing Ezra's jaw. "Clean?"

Ezra only nodded, still looking appalled and confused. "Good enough," Vin said and smiled at him, squirmed a little, just to see the reaction and was still smiling when Ezra's eyes opened again. He pulled free then, bodies parting with a lot less friction than when they'd joined and Vin eased his legs down from Ezra's hips and pulled Ezra against him. Ezra's back wasn't as broad, and Vin kept trying to keep himself from comparing, not finding Ezra wanting, only different: smoother and softer than Chris in places, harder in others.

He waited until they had cooled some, okay with the idea of Ezra staying, but not surprised when he didn't. He touched Vin' s face, his mouth, eyes searching for something Vin knew wasn't there and he almost apologized for it. Ezra only smiled a little, some of his cockiness back; the glint in his eyes one Vin recognized as when Ezra was pleased about something -- like being right.

"I bet you cheat at cards too," Ezra said, kissing him.

"Only when I'm not playing for keeps," Vin said, grinning at him.

Ezra nodded. "I'll keep it in mind."

Vin watched him pick up his clothes, chuckling when Ezra looked a little dismayed at the state of them. Ezra gave him a look of mock hurt and headed to his own room.

Vin rolled over, eyes barely glancing over the blinking red light before he got up to get cleaned up, turning off the light when he returned. The red light was off.

Vin's sleep was fitful at best, half remembered dreams waking him in the unfamiliar bed. He almost wished Ezra were in it.

They had coffee and breakfast with Juarez then headed out, Anthony making sure both of them knew he was armed then tossed the keys to the Land Rover to Vin. It took them a couple of hours, the rain not slacking at all as they worked their way out of the mountains. Once Vin thought he caught a tail but he couldn't be sure.

He supposed Ezra was right, when it was all over. It was amazingly easy, Herndon unconcerned that whoever he was supposed to meet had been replaced. They got the truck to where it was supposed to go, paid Herndon and Anthony made a phone call. Then they were headed back and Anthony was the one who suggested they stop for lunch and they did, at a diner on the highway. Anthony even talked a little, enough to let them know he'd worked for Juarez for a few years, even giving Ezra an oblique warning about how good Mr. Juarez could be to his friends and how other people didn't matter much. He didn't have anything much to say to Vin at all.

When they got back the rain had eased some but still fell. Juarez was pleased, passing envelopes to both of them. A thousand for Vin and five thousand for Ezra.

"This seems excessive for what was, as far as I'm concerned, a favor," Ezra said with a smile, setting the envelope on the desk in Juarez's study.

Juarez smiled and took it back. "Then we'll have to see how the favor can be returned with equal measure, Edward. I think we can arrange something to satisfy both our honors. And you, Mr. Taylor? It really wasn't necessary for you to accompany Mr. Stafford. Anthony could have managed. But you did...surrender a day to my service."

Vin hesitated, counting the money and then pulled out a single hundred dollar bill, before handing the rest back to Juarez. "This can be my donation to your shindig yesterday. I was a little short in the pocket."

Juarez studied him carefully and nodded. "Fair enough, Mr. Taylor. I'm sure Mr. Stafford appreciated your company. I'm very appreciative. I hope you enjoyed your stay." It was a dismissal and Vin and Ezra rose.

"It's been a most pleasurable weekend, sir," Ezra said.

"And interesting," Vin said with a smile, shaking the man's hand.

"I'm glad to hear it," Juarez said and rose, walking them to the door of his study. "I believe Juanita has your things together and someone is bringing up your car. Edward, I will speak to you in a few days."

Ezra and Vin started walking toward the front of the house.

"Mr. Taylor, a moment please," Juarez said and they turned around. Juarez wasn't smiling exactly, he looked more...contemplative. "I won't keep him long, Edward."

Ezra nodded, glancing at Vin. "I'll meet you out front."

"My apologies, Mr. Taylor," Juarez said, gesturing him back into the study.

"May as well call me Vin," Vin said, waiting while Juarez closed the door. He got a small smile.

"Very well, Vin. I actually do feel as though I've imposed on you, somewhat."

Vin shrugged. "Not really. I did have a pretty good time this weekend...fanciest thing I've been to in a while. Honestly, Mr. Juarez. It's fine," he said, wondering if keeping the hundred dollars hadn't pushed a button.

"You're a generous man, Vin. However, I still feel I've taken advantage of a relationship you have with Edward to my own advantage. I've very much enjoyed our brief talks."

Vin smiled easily. "Told you I had an interesting time."

"I thought I might impose on you for a bit longer. I rarely see anyone not included in business...and I miss simple conversation. I also wondered -- have you ever broken a horse to saddle?"

"Once or twice," Vin said, a little off guard.

"You very much admired Orochristos -- would you be willing to break him to saddle for me? It's not a particularly high paying position but he seemed to like you and I have a feeling, you are good with horses are you not?"

"Never had much problem. You've got hands though."

"I do but...usually I would break him myself. The next few weeks are likely to prove rather involved on several business fronts. But I would enjoy seeing you work with him and I would very much enjoy spending more time with you - although I understand Edward's...allure," he said with a small smile, almost self-deprecating and Vin caught the first hint of interest other than polite from Juarez. Just when he was thinking Culver was wrong and Vin was entirely the wrong type.

"I'm interested," Vin said.

"I'm not planning to deprive you of income -- since it may take several weeks. Would five hundred a day be sufficient?"

"That's a lot of money to pay someone you aren't sure can do the job," Vin said.

Juarez reached out very carefully and laid a hand on Vin's shoulder. "Faith is a powerful thing, Vin. I think you will do very well and," his hand slid a little down Vin's arm, then dropped. "As I said, having someone to talk to who isn't directly involved in my other business interests is something I'd very much welcome."

Vin took a moment, knowing he could scotch this, but worried it might also hamper Ezra's chances at getting something even more concrete on this man besides fake Ming vases or toilet seats, or whatever had been in that shipment.

He nodded. "I would be interested and that would be more than sufficient. More than I get paid for a lot less," he said.

Juarez looked very relieved and almost boyish, smiling broadly, his eyes bright. "Very good. I'm having him gelded tomorrow, but he should be ready for some gentle work by the day after -- which will also give you a day or so to sort out your affairs. I wouldn't want you to break any prior commitments. Anthony said you were in the process of obtaining a new car."

Vin chuckled. "A used car. Classic jeep. Guy I know found one. I haven't seen it yet. That should be enough time."

"Then I'll have Anthony pick you up at your apartment on Tuesday, say mid morning?" he asked, and sat back on the desk. "There are a few conditions, I'm afraid. I'll understand if you find them restrictive. You've noticed I value my privacy."

"Armed guards at the drive way --– yeah, I kind suspected," Vin said. "I could drive."

"I prefer not to have that confusion as well. Except for days like yesterday, it's easier if the guards know which vehicles are allowed on the estate and that list doesn't change too often." Juarez smiled. "Yes. So, I will ask that you not invite anyone here without clearing it with me first, and that I always be informed if you need to leave and return. The guards make no exceptions."

Vin shrugged. "Fair enough. Your house, I'm just working here," he said.

"I hope it will be more than that, Vin," Juarez said smoothly, softly.

"I'm thinking it might be," Vin said, letting a smile of his own slip. "Anything else I need to know?"

"A personal pique. I don't tolerate drug use among my employees or ...my friends."

But everyone else can pickle themselves in it, Vin thought. "Not a problem," he said.

"Good. I'm very pleased. I shall make the arrangements. I'm sure Edward is starting to worry." He held out his hand and Vin took it.

"I'll see you Tuesday, Mr.--"

"My friends call me Chen," Juarez said.

"All right, Chen," Vin said. "Thanks...kind of the best offer I've had in awhile."

Juarez smiled again and opened the door, walking with Vin to the front and waving to Ezra. He remained on the porch until they pulled away.

"And that was about...?" Ezra asked as they headed down the drive.

"Total weirdness," Vin said, and picked up his phone as they passed the guard gate, dialing Chris. "Charlie, Vin. Heading home." He glanced at Ezra as Chris asked him how it had gone. "I think I just got picked up," he said with a small, not entirely pleased, sigh.

It was a couple of hours before Chris could get to Vin's apartment -- the relief so tangible a thing, he worked twice as hard at making sure they didn't fuck up anything. The surveillance teams on Ezra and Vin's apartments were overly cautious and thorough, if only because Team 7's leader was likely to come gunning for them personally if anything slipped through. Ezra had spotted no tail and his own apartment parking was gated. Still, they waited for anyone to show up and park, anyone to walk by looking too interested or even too uninterested. Buck finally got the clear and went in to get all he could from Ezra rather than asking him to come into the office at this point. A few days and they'd see if Juarez did any checking on his newest best boy.

When “Charlie” came to pick Vin up, Chris could see the relief in his eyes. Vin always twitched under the enforced requirement to stay put until the all clear, and he seemed to breathe easier as soon as the door shut behind him and they headed to look at “his” jeep.

It was his jeep, with tags removed and new ones being issued to cover the subterfuge. As far as they knew, Juarez had no lines into the DMV, but Chris wasn't taking any chances. It was less likely their conversation would be picked up on the move as well.

Vin gave him the quick and the dirty on the drive over, including all the details about the buy he and Ezra had made, and then Juarez's offer.

"I swear, I think he was going to let me walk. Changed his mind at the last minute," Vin said, leaning back in the seat, knee braced against the dash.

"Anything he said or you said to trigger it?"

"Not that I can think of," Vin said. He paused, seemed to fumble for words, then said, "First thing, I thought was he pissed off because I'd kept the hundred." He shook his head. "That's what I got. That he was kind of angry, then it was gone -- I could be wrong, Chris. I was a little tense."

"Don't know why that would be," Chris said with a grin at him, and pulled into an older neighborhood. Vin looked around, obviously recognizing it.

"Nathan has my jeep?"

"Thought it would make it easier. He and Josiah got in while we were waiting for your all clear. See if we can get it all at once, although they pretty much came back empty handed," Chris said and pulled in. Vin's jeep was parked on the side of the driveway, a "For Sale" sign taped in the window.

"He sells my jeep to anyone else but me and there'll be hell to pay," Vin said, teasing, and got out, falling into the set-up by looking at the old thing like it was brand new.

Nathan came out after a few minutes and invited them in, and Chris felt the tension in them all drain away.

Josiah was still in his suit, although Nathan had changed to khakis and a loose shirt. There was coffee on, and Vin looked at it like it was the only thing keeping him going. Chris understood the need: there was an inevitable letdown once the adrenaline stopped pumping. "You find him?" Chris asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Josiah said. "Father Cummings is at the monastery -- his reaction when I asked about Enrique Alvarez was not what I expected. I think he was...angry with us for asking. And not forthcoming about details, only that yes, Alvarez had been a member of his parish. He suggested I get a warrant if I wished to discuss it further."

"A warrant?" Chris asked, as startled as Vin and, no doubt, Josiah.

"Like that," Nathan said. "And the thing is, I think if we'd had one, we'd have gotten a whole lot more. He escorted us off the grounds and said if we wanted to pursue it, the only way we'd be allowed back on the grounds is with a warrant."

"We accused him of nothing, Chris."

Chris thought that over. "We haven't got anything to issue a warrant on."

"So I informed him and he seemed...angrier. I think Enrique Alvarez is there, at the monastery," Josiah said quietly. "Under sign of the confessional, perhaps, Cummings can't help us. Not directly."

"And we have no suspicions to question Alvarez on, and no case yet so we can't issue a subpoena."

"I did ask him if the monastery was open to lay brothers seeking retreat," Josiah said, sipping his coffee. "I know we're in the middle of a case, boss, but I think I may need a few days off." He smiled slowly, like a little boy who found a stash of cookies where there had been bare cupboards.

Chris stared for a minute then shook his head. "I think I can spare you for a few days."

"I'll try to get in and out by the weekend," Josiah said. "Which may delay things," he said, glancing at Vin.

"Not by much. I'm not due back until Tuesday," Vin said.

"Alvarez might be hiding from Juarez," Nathan said. "Boyfriend, wife pregnant, maybe Juarez has a grudge."

"I think it would be over by now if it were that," Josiah said. "But he may have slipped away. Juarez's reputation indicates he takes care of transgressors rather quickly."

Chris nodded, and then glanced at Nathan. "Got another cold trail for you to follow. Something nagging me. See if you can figure out what Maria Juarez was doing in Denver the night she died. Check the accident reports again, anything."

"Almost seven years is pretty cold, Chris," Nathan said. "Do what I can."

"JD will help. It may be nothing but driving from Denver to Tulsa and back in the middle of the night on icy roads...must have been pretty important to her," Chris said and set his mug down. "Anything else comes up, you know how to reach me, and I'll see you both in the office tomorrow."

"Sell my jeep and I'll hunt you down, Nathan," Vin said.

Nathan grinned at him. "I want you to get that piece of junk outta my yard. Consider it sold." He tossed the keys to Vin. "Bringing down the property values in the neighborhood."

They left then, Vin taking his jeep and Chris following until they ended up back at Vin's apartment. Upstairs, Vin dug out a couple of beers and got them open, looking pleased when Chris set the bottle aside and reached for him instead.

They spent a long few minutes just standing in the kitchen, Chris' back to the counter, making sure nothing had changed, or maybe just reacquainting each other with taste and feel -- Vin making sure Chris hadn't had a tonsillectomy over the weekend. "We have got to find a better way for you to get messages in and out," Chris said when they both stopped for a breather.

"Settling the purchase of the jeep should give us a couple of days. Nice thinking, Chris."

Chris grinned. "Gonna owe a few favors for that one. Still okay with this?" he asked seriously.

"I think so, yeah," Vin said. "Hits me like Culver said. Someone to talk to...company. It may be that simple. He's a really strange fella, Chris. I mean, besides what we know. Lets his horses run wild, practically...buys guns...It's not like he needs any more money or influence and I think he'd be happier if he just kept to the horses. He's got no one to leave this all to."

Chris nodded, looking pensive, but it didn't keep his hands from slipping into the back waistband of Vin's jeans. "Josiah's still working the profile. Maybe Alvarez can give us a clue. Who knows. Maybe he's got a bastard somewhere, we don't know about. Maybe he plans on trying for a family again."

"He said he's got business this week...I may get something."

"God, I hope so -- there's a lot in this op to come out with you just getting a shot at breaking that damn horse," Chris grinned. "Getting Ezra in may make it worth it -- If Juarez calls him on it. I kinda wish...Ezra was still in."

Vin didn’t say anything, but Chris wondered if he wished Ezra were still in, too.

"I can get out.....," Vin said. “I'll try for early Thursday. Nathan will just have to deal with the lowered property values. You staying for awhile?"

Chris leaned his head back until it rested on the cabinets. "God, Vin. I shouldn't," he said softly, but pulled Vin closer.

"Nobody tagging me yet, Chris," Vin said quietly, and nuzzled Chris' throat.

It was a good argument and Chris was in a mood to be persuaded.

An hour later, they dropped the jeep back off at Nathan's and Chris dropped Vin off before heading out. He reached home, did a final check in and then crashed. The next daylight Chris saw was the dawn of Monday morning.

Vin followed almost the same pattern, packing up clothes after Chris left, then falling face down in the bed and not waking until the predawn hours. He felt like hell. Coffee got him moving and by dawn he was out and running, needing to work off some of the excess energy still making him twitch. When he returned he felt better, grabbed a shower and dug around for some breakfast while watching the news.

More rain anticipated, and Vin had a few minutes’ doubt about being cooped up in Juarez's monster of a house. He thought he could bear it if he could work the horses, but he swallowed the mild anxiety down and flipped channels.

The heavy rains were causing all kind of problems to swollen creeks and mudslides that had the DOT working over time. Wildfires the year before had left a lot of unprotected ground and Vin paid attention, but the road to Juarez's seemed open, as was the narrow track to Chris' ranch. He touched base with Ezra and found his partner in pretty good spirits, in on the cocaine deal the following week, although Juarez had not spoken to him directly.

Vin was pleased, but still fidgety. "Think sometimes it's too easy, Ez?" he asked.

"There's been nothing easy about any of this, Vin," Ezra said. "And I'm still two steps away from Juarez as opposed to being able to connect him directly. Let me just say I'll be glad you are back on the other side of the equation when this happens. Always nice to have the eye of God watching over me."

Vin laughed. "That's what they really pay me for. I'll be there."

"Good. Retain your caution, Mr. Taylor," Ezra said. "He is a charming man...but he's sinking, Vin and the muck is pretty foul."

"Yeah," Vin said, taking a deep breath. "I'll keep it in mind. Kinda wish you were going to be there, though," he said, and instantly regretted it.

"A phone call can make it happen perhaps," Ezra offered after a moment. "Vin, if you are having doubts--"

"Naw, just nervous. Besides, you give great back rubs," he said with a small laugh.

"Then I shall reserve one for you when you leave Mr. Juarez's company," Ezra said. "No charge."

"Thanks, Ez. You watch your own back until I can get out to do it for you."

"As sound a deal as I've been offered," Ezra said. "I think it won't be amiss if I am one of the contacts you could make during your...term of employment."

"Chris thought so, too."

"And Mr. Larabee is..."

"We're fine, Ez. Not supposed to ask."

"I withdraw the question, then. Be careful, Vin," Ezra said and rang off.

It was mid-afternoon before Chris showed up again, and Vin was grateful that they just went out for a late lunch, avoiding the places the team usually hung out at, but Chris was able to give him more on the buy he and Ezra had made.

"Ceramic compounds. Thought maybe there was something in the stuff but lab boys say no -- not in the sample we were able to make. Although," Chris didn't look pleased. "It's high grade stuff. Strong as iron and can be pressed and molded into other things than toilet seats."

"Like?"

"Bullets. Gun stocks...knives -- no metal," Chris said unhappily. "Limited reuse but possible."

"No way to pick it up on metal detectors. Jeez," Vin said.

"Government even has a research grant out for it...they make jet engines parts out of it. JD's pulled a half dozen articles off the net alone."

"Guess we aren't going after him for the import tax."

"Nope," Chris said with a sigh. "Most he'd get is a fine and have to pay it. And a good idea where we got the info. Maybe after we nail the son of a bitch we can tack it on just to make the accountants happy." A wry grin accompanied the comment, and Vin snickered.

"Any names I should be listening for?"

"Not that aren't on the list. I'm thinking to pull you out on Sunday, Vin," he added. "I want you out before Ezra does his job. But you call it."

Vin nodded. "I won't be done with the horse but if this rain heads in, I'm thinking I won't get much of a chance to work him anyway. Juarez hasn't asked for anything else."

"Mind if I kind of hope he doesn't?" Chris asked softly.

Vin smiled a little. "Think I can live with that. You coming back...?"

Chris only nodded and they split the bill.

Chris wouldn't stay the night and Vin knew it, wishing it were already Sunday. But it was enough to get him through, he hoped. Chris lingered over him, over their pleasure in a way that left Vin pretty satisfyingly exhausted.

They ordered in, catching the news and weather reports over take-out Chinese and familiar positions on the unfamiliar couch. The lead- in story had them both paying attention.

Six bodies had spilled out onto one of the roads from a mudslide -- local PD and FBI unable to tell if they were hikers or bodies left over from the fires the year before, that no one had yet missed or reported. "Glad I don't work for the FBI," Chris said, and Vin agreed. The rest of the news was about rain and slide delays and how the greater Denver area was preparing for more rain and more damage.

"Getting flooding at the ranch?"

"Not really. Run off. Although...I may move the horse down to Albertson's for a week or so. Better for them, easier on him. Sire resents mightily that you haven't been out to see him."

"I'll make it up to him...and you," Vin promised and offered a promissory note on it before Chris left.

Anthony arrived on schedule, and Vin was ready. "Get your jeep?"

"Almost," Vin said as they walked down to the car. A light drizzle had started, but Vin had his hat, whapping it on his leg to get the excess off as he got in the car. "Friend's gonna handle the details, but I'll need to come in Thursday or so, sign the papers."

Anthony said nothing and a half hour later Vin was once more walking up the broad steps to Juarez's resort. The man himself was waiting.

"I'd hoped for better weather for your stay," Juarez said.

"May clear off. How'd Orochristos do with his surgery?"

"Recovering nicely, if a bit annoyed at his loss of dignity," Juarez said and Vin chuckled.

"'Nother day to put him in a better mood's probably a good thing, then." Juarez didn't lead him upstairs, instead steered him toward the back of the resort.

"I had a Juanita prepare a room here. Mostly my residence -- the upper floors are rather hauntingly empty at the moment."

The room was smaller but comfortable, with its own bath and a sitting area, and access to the porch that wrapped around the back of the house, from which Vin could see a pretty spectacular view of the mountains. "Juanita will sort out meal times and such things, if you need laundry done. She’s delightfully competent at taking care of bachelors," Juarez said.

"She seemed real nice," Vin admitted, and started putting his clothes away while Juarez watched.

"I'm afraid I have little to offer in the way of entertainment," Juarez said apologetically. "I do have a rather extensive library and some videos, if you like."

Vin shrugged. "I'm okay. Not much for reading...like stories okay."

Juarez inclined his head. "No patience?"

"Just...hard," Vin said. "Books on tape...greatest thing since sliced bread," he said.

Juarez laughed at that. "I don't have any I'm afraid, but if it's not an imposition, I do enjoy reading aloud."

"Seems like I'd be the one imposing," Vin said, putting his jeans in the bureau.

"Not at all, Vin. As I said, company is what I crave...simpler things. What do you prefer: the thrillers of Clancy and Grisham or the more amusing things..."

"Pretty much all of it," Vin said. "Was...fella I know gave me...'Black Elk Speaks' on tape," he said, and Josiah had. "And another one -- little deep for me. 'Care of the Soul'."

"Thomas Moore. I'm familiar with it," Juarez said and seemed surprised. "A contemplative man, your friend."

"Guess so...it was...different. Don't know that I've given it all that much thought."

"Contemplation of the soul is a worthy endeavor for every man, Vin. Although I might find Moore to be a trifle too...new age and psychological rather than theological."

Vin sat on the edge of the bed and nodded. "Could be. Seems to have thought on it some, though. More'n me anyway."

"Not a church goer?"

"Not since I was little. My ma...she liked it good enough."

Juarez leaned forward. "You lost her young."

"I was about five. Don't remember much, but I remember going to church."

Juarez rose, and Vin looked up, the compassion in the man's eyes a little startling. "It's difficult enough growing up with the firm guidance of a parent...I'm sorry it was doubly difficult for you." He touched Vin's shoulder, squeezing it a little.

"Seem to have done okay," Vin said drawing back a little, a little surprised to find he'd revealed so much in such a brief conversation. Juarez was an easy man to talk to. Ezra's warning came back to him. "Anyway. If you want to read, I'll listen. Can't promise I won't fall asleep though."

Juarez laughed with him. "I'll endeavor to keep it interesting, then. Grisham might be a better choice after all. Come, I'll show you where things are -- aside from the restrictions we spoke of, please feel free to move about as you will. Leonard, my cook, generally has a great many things left over in the kitchens should you feel the need to snack," he said, eyes dancing. "I generally ride in the mornings if you'd like to join me and it isn't raining too hard. A drizzle such as this I hardly find an impediment -- I'm sure I can find a slicker for you to borrow."

"I think I'd like that. Ridden in worse," Vin said, and followed. Juarez took his time, every indication given that nothing was as important as making Vin comfortable. They talked about a dozen things; Juarez as likely to talk about a painting on the wall as he was the latest technological acquisitions he had in the room reserved for entertainment -- he had a pretty impressive collection of music and some videos and DVD's. Mostly classics. While there, he put on a CD and Vin listened. Not his usual music, but haunting and vaguely familiar.

"What is that?"

"'Carmina Burrana" by Carl Orff...sections of which have been used in a dozen films in the last twenty years. Do you like ballet, Vin?"

"Seen it a couple of times, on TV," Vin said. "Gone once."

"The Denver Ballet is presenting it as a ballet and with a chorale on Friday if you'd like to attend."

"Don't see why not. Brought working clothes though."

"The suit you wore Saturday will be sufficient. We can make arrangement to retrieve it, or you can."

"Told Anthony I was likely going to have to run into town on Thursday to sign the papers on the jeep. Could get it then," Vin said and Juarez smiled.

"Excellent. I'll make our reservations."

"Could see if Edward might go," Vin said.

Some of the warmth left Juarez's smile but he kept smiling. "I can certainly extend the invitation to Edward if you like. Or perhaps you'd would prefer to go with him?"

"No! That's not what I meant," Vin said. "He likes that stuff. Would understand it better if you wanted to talk about it..."

A little of the warmth returned. "I see. Thank you, Vin, but it's your company I seek, not your expertise on either ballet or music. Expertise in horses is another matter," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes which didn't diminish their odd colorlessness. "As you say, though, Edward is charming company. A good friend?"

"I guess," Vin said, trying to proceed cautiously. "We get along all right -- tosses me work when he's got it. Other times...we get on."

"I would have thought you did more than 'get on'," Juarez said, sitting on the arm of a leather armchair.

"He's good...company," Vin said.

"You needn't be shy, Vin. I'm hardly likely to chide you or think less for your choice of companions -- not when I find you attractive for the same reasons."

The bluntness of the statement caught Vin off guard and it shouldn't have. He didn't answer at first, and Juarez filled in the silence. "Edward is also an attractive man...a bit ripe for my tastes, although, I fear I am guilty of trying to recapture my youth through...my companions," he admitted, almost apologizing.

"You seem to...be pretty young at heart, Chen," Vin said, and took a breath, moving closer. If Juarez could be that obvious, Vin could hardly afford to be a shrinking violet. "Edward's good company but see, he's almost a little young for me," he said, keeping it firmly in his head that Chris had a good five years on Ezra.

I'm never going to make it through this, Vin thought, watching color creep into Juarez's dusky cheeks. He didn't look angry though, and the look Vin had been watching for was there: desire, want, need, lust, all of it, so strong and so alien in the colorless eyes that he had to breathe a little deeper. He dug his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, at the end of his expertise in anything.

Juarez rose, standing slightly taller than Vin, lifting a hand to let his finger run over Vin's lips, stroking softly. "You don't strike me as a practiced flirt, Vincent."

"Not usually. Kind of fall into it--" Vin said, wanting to stop it before it happened but it was far, far too late and the sinking feeling in his gut wasn't arousal. Still he opened his mouth under Juarez's, found the other man's mouth hot and dry, lips rough on his own, but gentle: texture not intention. It was almost chaste.

"Sore temptation, Vin," he said, eyes almost half closed. "I think lunch should be ready by now," he said and it was as if it had never been, Juarez smiling and leading the way toward the small dining room. Lunch was ready and Juarez moved the conversation along, talking of the horses. Vin recovered enough to describe his techniques, and Juarez was apparently pleased by it all. He left Vin for a few hours after lunch. Juanita sought him out to show him what he would need to know and how to reach her. She was generous in a motherly kind of way, asking after his favorite foods so Leonard would know and Vin had a dizzying few minutes thinking it was all a very bizarre dreams.

By the time he sought out Juarez, he'd regained his equilibrium somewhat and they'd donned hats and coats and took one of the small carts over to the stables so Juarez could check on Orochristos' incision.

The horse was still jumpy and annoyed, and instinct took over for Vin as he tossed his jacket over the animal's face and held the halter gently, talking to him while Juarez showed, that despite his age, he was still spry. One of the hands held a first aid packet and Juarez covered the incision sites, checked the drainage and applied some petroleum jelly to the inside of the hind legs to keep the sparse hair from matting.

Vin threw a blanket over the animal and took him out to walk, ignoring the rain and Orochristos' uneven temper, and the animal settled somewhat after the initial discomfort had passed. Leading him back in, Juarez handed him a warmed towel and Vin wiped the horse down, he and Juarez between them getting the animal rubbed down and dry -- Orochristos would have been purring if he'd been a cat.

They spent a little time with the other animals, some in the pasture despite the rain, but some seeking the shelter of the covered areas, and Vin found a handsome mare who danced for him a little bit and flirted, and Vin chuckled at her antics.

"Isabella," Juarez said, apparently pleased by Vin's choice, and looked up. The drizzle continued but lighter and there was a break in the cloud cover. "If you'd like to make her acquaintance, I'm sure she'd be pleased. Ramon, bring Halifax up, if you would please."

Ramon touched his forehead, and Isabella followed Vin comfortably and let herself be dried and saddled after Vin checked the offerings of tack. Juarez's mount proved to be a beautiful Arabian, docile but not exactly the best mannered beast Vin had met. He settled under Juarez's hands, though.

Juarez kept his tack in good repair and within about twenty minutes they were mounted and riding, Vin letting Juarez lead the way along well-used paths outside the fence line. Some of the horses trotted along with them, wanting to see where they were going.

The rain eased briefly, the sky clear and bright with the warmth rising, almost too warm for their coats, and Vin pulled his off, laying it across the saddle and ignoring the mist still falling. Juarez led him off the path to a broader field, likely an old ski run and Vin grinned, urging Isabella into a trot then a gallop, letting the animal stretch her legs and giving Vin a chance to learn more about how she handled.

"She suits you," Juarez said when Vin brought her back in.

"She's a sweet ride," Vin said stroking the long neck as they headed back. He stretched some, pushing damp hair back under his hat. "Must keep the hands busy, keeping them all saddle trained."

"Busy enough," Juarez said. "You'd be well suited to such a life."

"Been told that," Vin said. "Expensive hobby though. Could envy you that."

"But you don’t."

Vin was silent again, weighing his words carefully and trying to remind himself that Juarez was a beguiling companion. "You don't seem to get to enjoy it as much as you should."

"An interesting supposition on short acquaintance, Mr. Taylor," Juarez said, the smile on his lips not exactly warm. "Accurate, however. You have a keen perception."

"Just an opinion," Vin said and hoped Juarez would drop it. He did.

By the time they got back and got the animals rubbed down, it was closer to dinner and Vin took Orochristos out again, walking him and letting him stretch. This time he managed a treat, getting a sliver of apple from one of the hands, before settling the horse and walking back to the house with Juarez.

"I'll get washed up," he said, muddy boots and jeans not quite the thing for dinner he supposed, but Juarez wasn't much cleaner.

"I'll have Leonard put dinner back a half hour, then...service in the study I think."

Vin grabbed a shower and let Juanita know he had clothes to be cleaned, redressed in jeans again and a button down flannel, and tried to see if there was anything in this room that might be listening or watching him. Not that he would be talking to anyone.

There was a simple table set, and Vin was pleased enough with the fare, accepting the wine offered. When they finished, the table was cleared and Juarez started a small fire, taking the dampness out of the room.

And he read. Vin settled in with his wine, and after a few moments relaxed into the lull of Juarez's voice, not surprised to find it easy to follow the story line.

It was still fairly early when Juarez set the book aside, offering Vin something stronger to drink and Vin took that as well, sipping the whiskey and trying not to notice the looks sometimes cast his way.

"I tend to retire early in the evenings, but if you prefer to watch a movie...," Juarez said finally and Vin shook his head.

"Think I might call it a night as well -- if you want to ride early, still."

"I'm very much looking forward to it. Good evening, Vin"

"Night, Chen," Vin said and headed to his room, stripping down and pulling on sweats before turning off the lights.

It was maybe an hour later when he heard the latch, so little external light it was only a shadow, but a tall, spare one.

Juarez did nothing, only entered and stood for long moments and Vin swallowed, nerves screaming, hoping he knew half of what was going on and still hoping he was wrong. Still, he had no idea how long Juarez might watch him sleep.

"I'm awake, Chen," he said softly and felt rather than saw, Juarez ease himself onto the end of the bed.

"I thought you might be. I should have said something earlier."

Vin took a breath, closing his eyes, willing Chris to be there. "It's not a problem," he said and pulled the blanket back. Stopped when he felt Juarez's hand on his ankle, cool and dry.

"My needs and desires are very simple, Vin. My age and ....well, I'm more an observer than a participant," Juarez said, and there was an apology there as well.

"Lots of ways to get your needs met." Vin reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to know Juarez liked to watch more than anything. He sat up and Juarez moved his hand. Vin shifted. "I could ...take your pants off, Chen."

Juarez chuckled softly. "Not even that much, Vin, but I would very much like to see you," he said and rose, going to the bathroom and cracking the door, turning the light on. "If you have no objections?"

"Think I can manage that." Vin blinked a little in the light, as Juarez settled in the chair close to the bed, still in shadow although Vin could see him a bit more clearly, the pale eyes glinting slightly in the reflected light and Juarez's lips were wet.

Heat flushed through Vin as he stood up, easily taken for embarrassment and it was, in part, but he pulled the sweats off, laying them over the end of the bed, all too aware of Juarez's gaze. He took a few steps closer.

"I'm very pleased, Vin," he said, and he might as well be talking about one of his horses. "I think the bed might be more...comfortable for you. A young man's pleasures are likely to make him weak. I remember such weaknesses."

Vin took another breath and backed up, stretching out on the bed. It took a moment to summon Chris again, hearing his voice, glad of the practice as he reached down to touch himself.

The silence was so heavy, Vin almost thought he might suffocate, then afraid his nervousness wouldn't let him get done what needed to be done. He let it go, remembering Chris watching him, encouraging him, almost begging him with his eyes, then holding him up and holding him open -- it was enough, more than, Vin feeling the ache begin before he heard Juarez's soft gasp for breath, too caught up in sensation to let the other man's presence stop him.

Juarez moved to the bed as Vin arched, and had Vin been less than already over the edge, he would have faltered again. There was something dauntingly inhuman about Juarez's face, his expression: which had less to do with desire than a kind of hunger that could kill a man. No wonder Culver had been afraid ...or at least disturbed.

The only touch he received immediately after was dry fingers brushing his hair back and a light press of lips to his forehead. Juarez lingered, almost pressing against him but not quite. "Less than what you deserve, Vincent, but I promise you, sufficient for my needs." Then he touched Vin, two fingers lightly tracing the line of his chest, from sternum to belly and then across his pectorals, like a benediction.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said, and left the room as quietly as he'd entered.

Vin lay in the half light of the bathroom for a long few minutes, closing his eyes and forcing himself to take deep breaths, not entirely sure where the queasiness in his gut was coming from. When he felt steadier, he got up and washed himself off, then turned the lights out before he could look at himself.

When Chris asked if he was ready to pull out Sunday, Vin decided he would have no arguments to give him.

Part Four

Wednesday broke clear and Chris was glad of it, even if he did have to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at everyone when he caught Juarez and Vin riding out. He lost them in the tree line and sat back, prepared to wait it out. So far, no visitors to the Juarez estate, but it eased Chris' mind a little to see Vin outside.

They'd brought a generator in, the park rangers smugly happy that it wasn't their department that paid for it, but they weren't around much. Mostly what they were getting was rain, not lightning.

Otherwise they were stalled on all fronts. Ezra was cooling his heels, and Josiah had barely had time to get to Tulsa, much less report anything. Nathan and JD had nothing on Jenkins, Maria Juarez or anything. Dead ends all of them. It was absolutely the worst part of the job and without Vin there to ease his mood, Chris was about as friendly as an enraged bear.

Which was probably why Buck consistently showed up to ride surveillance with him. Even at his surliest, Buck was pretty invulnerable to Chris' temper. Always had been. This time was no different, but Chris found his oldest friend looking at him with barely checked speculation rather than out right ignoring him which was what he usually did when Chris was in a bad mood. Chris was just stubborn enough not to ask and didn't, but it made for a pretty strained day long stint.

"They're back," Buck said and Chris pulled his own binoculars up, watching Vin and Juarez ride back. Juarez headed back to the house, but Vin remained, walking the new horse out to the pens. Some of the hands lingered but Vin was pretty much on his own, taking the animal through its paces with a sure hand and a lot of patience.

All else aside, Vin looked pretty happy. Chris could see it in his face, in the line of his body, relaxed as he hadn't been when with Juarez and Chris had no idea what that was about. He wouldn't be able to talk to Vin until the next day.

Vin worked the animal for thirty minutes and then walked him down, letting him loose in a larger corral with a few of the others and then watching carefully to make sure they didn't get into any herd sniping. He spoke to the hands and then headed back to the house.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same, Vin returning to the stables twice more to work with the horse, lingering for a bit and heading back. Both times Chris could have sworn Vin was looking toward the tower on purpose, but if he was trying to communicate something, Chris couldn't tell what it was.

Vin called him early Thursday and "Charlie" met him at the apartment. Vin waited until they were headed toward Nathan's to pick up the jeep before doing any more than giving Chris a "It's good to see you." He was on a tight schedule -- Anthony was still trolling around town.

"How's it going?" Chris asked as they drove. Vin looked a little tired and was more quiet than usual.

"Culver was right. He just watches," Vin said quietly, leaning his arm on the open window and digging his fingers through his hair.

Chris reached over to touch his knee and Vin flinched a little. Chris held on. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just...I don't know how to describe it, Chris, except it's creepy in a way that I can't ...place. He's quiet. He watches., he's polite, makes sure I'm okay and then he leaves. It's like...you ever hold your breath to see how long you can?" he asked.

"Have. As a kid. Had to in SEAL training."

"It's like he holds his breath until he can't breathe but he's still...conscious. Only not. Thanks me and leaves. All the rest of the time he's...interesting. Interested, generous. No wonder his staff is so loyal. He makes everything they do seem so...worthwhile," Vin said, sounding a little shell shocked. Chris watched him worriedly.

"You can pull out, Vin."

"I know," Vin said, and Chris thought he might be thinking about it. He'd seen Vin pull through some seriously tense situations, where his life was hanging by a thread or a word and be less shaken than he was now. After a long moment he shook his head. "Give it through...'sposed to go to the ballet tomorrow night."

"You like him?" Chris asked and Vin nodded.

"Might. If he were someone else. Man is seriously smart. Well read -- I'm getting in philosophical debates with him that Josiah would kill for." A small smile finally showed up and Chris squeezed his leg and let him go.

"Maybe he'll get a chance one Juarez is in jail."

"Heard anything from Josiah?"

"Not yet. Expect to today sometime. Anything ...you said Juarez had business."

Vin nodded. "He does tonight. Company coming in. Need to bring my suit back. Don't know what it's about, but he said I didn't have to come to dinner. Might though, just to see who shows."

"Okay," Chris said and turned down Nathan's street. "Just so you know...when you're at the corrals...we can see you clear. As long as it's not raining."

"I'll keep it in mind...I need a rescue, I'll toss my hat or something," Vin said and grinned as Chris pulled to a stop.

Nathan answered the door. Rain was at work and he had the TV on with the noon news. He got the keys for Vin. Chris stared at the screen. "Upgraded to homicide," he said, listening. "Jeez, I'm *really* glad I'm not with the FBI," he said as the newscaster released what little information they had on the six bodies found. No names, only that the victims had all been murdered over the course of several years...buried in a communal grave that had been opened by the rains and the weakened hillside caused by wildfires.

"Where'd they find them?" Vin asked.

"Over off 36," Nathan said. "JD's been watching it on the wires, but they just got the preliminary autopsies done this morning. No missing matched that we've seen."

"What a mess," Chris said, and Vin thanked Nathan, then drove the jeep back with Chris following. They barely had time for a kiss before Vin's ride showed up and Vin headed back. Chris headed for the office to see if Josiah had anything. He was tempted to pull Vin anyway and didn't think he'd get much protest -- all the while knowing that Vin's defection might well cause Juarez to pull the plug on Ezra's op. They were between a rock and hard place and Chris just had to trust that Vin could hang in there for a few more days.

It seemed pretty appropriate that the rain moved back in that night, promising Friday would be dismal and aggravating. There was nothing but a check-in from Josiah yet and Chris left a message on his cell, wondering if he should send Nathan to Tulsa. He was halfway home when he got hit by a page, staring at Josiah's return number for a moment before pulling over and calling him.

"I'm on my way back with guests," Josiah said.

"You found Alvarez."

"Not exactly," Josiah said. "Or I did but he isn't Enrique Alvarez. The gentleman living in Tulsa and who has been cloistered with the brothers of Our Lady is Luis Jose Gonzales. Maria Juarez's younger brother. I have Father Cummings with me as well. Is Vin still in with Juarez?"

"Yeah, he is. Saw him today. What is it, Josiah? Should I pull him?" Chris asked, feeling a chill down his spine.

"Gracefully, if possible, Chris. I don't have all the facts and I'm afraid I'll lose my range. We should be there in a couple of hours, and I don't think it likely Juarez knows Luis has left his haven, if he knew where he was at all. Gonzales thinks not."

"They're supposed to be in town tomorrow night for a ballet -- Juarez is bringing him."

"You may want a false warrant then, perhaps pick Vin up for something minor without blowing his cover."

"Josiah, is Vin at risk? What did you find out?"

"Luis was his lover, Chris. Ten years ago. He ...betrayed him and barely lived to tell the tale. It's the piece I was missing...Juarez is discreet to the point of paranoia."

"I'll meet you at the office," Chris said, heart hammering as he whipped the Ram around and headed back, dialing up the surveillance team as he drove. Then cursed as the rain started again.

"He was out earlier, working that horse," Paul Owens said. "There were a half dozen cars still there until about twenty minutes ago. Juarez and Vin both came out to see them off. He looked okay, Chris. We got a problem?"

"Maybe. Keep your eyes on it, Paul. Any movement -- if the cook empties the garbage, I want to know it."

"You got it, Chris. We can have an extraction team there in fifteen."

Chris bit his lip, tempted. "Give me a little time, Paul. Juarez's household is pretty loyal and I doubt his driver is the only one with a weapon. I don't want Vin caught in the middle of something without us knowing exactly where he is."

"Won't take my eyes off the place. Keep me posted, Chris."

"Will do," Chris said, then systematically started calling the others, bringing them in, including Ezra, trusting the man's discretion.

Buck and JD were there when Chris arrived, and he briefed them then set them to work on getting a warrant out for Vincent Taylor, and called his boss to update him. Within a half hour Ezra and Nathan were there as well, and Chris gathered them all to brief them again. "Josiah is bringing in Luis Gonzales and that priest. Gonzales may be the link between Juarez and his preference for young men. He thinks we should pull Vin carefully. I checked with Owens. As of an hour ago, Vin was fine," Chris said, and pulled the maps out, spreading the blueprints of the resort and grounds. "Just in case though...I want to know this place like it was our own homes. Vin said he was staying in Juarez's residence, ground floor, left rear."

"There," Ezra said, pointing out what he knew. "Private study. The rest is beyond that point I think. There's a porch on the back but the ground drops pretty severely about a hundred yards out. Ravine. Access would be dicey from the back unless you hiked up. And coming through the front..."

"Is a mile long drive with no cover. They'd know we were coming. No roads east or west?"

"Not that you can make easily. All used to be ski slopes, Chris." Buck rubbed his face. "We could get the warrant and knock on the front door."

"Juarez doesn't turn over his own people...," Ezra said softly. "It's in the profile. He might move Vin to protect him if he really doesn't suspect anything. Or he might just..." Ezra didn't say it. "I can call, Chris. See if I can get him...get to him. It would be the least likely thing to alert Juarez to anything else."

"It's almost midnight," Chris said. "It would have to be a damn good reason. Fuck," he said softly, staring at the blueprint. He should have told Vin to get out...

"If he doesn't suspect anything, they'll be in town tomorrow night," Nathan said, offering what they had.

"Get it set up," Chris said and glanced at Ezra. "Stay close," he said quietly.

"Like a shadow, Chris. He'll be okay," Ezra said.

They got work done but it was tense. Almost to a man, they jerked when the elevator doors pinged and Josiah emerged, an elderly man with a florid face and white hair in slacks and a plain brown suit to one side. Between them they supported a younger man who he looked to be a cripple, bent over so Chris couldn't see his face clearly, dark hair shot through with grey. He was wearing and oversized sweatshirt over grey sweats but despite his inability to stand upright, he seemed young --was slender of build, the dark hair still curly.

He in no way resembled the smiling young man in the picture from Juarez's file. Josiah made introductions quickly and he and Father Cummings helped Luis to chair in the conference room. The man could barely walk, one leg twisted as if it had been broken in several places and never healed properly.

Luis sat, breathing heavily and lifted himself up. There was scarring on the once handsome face, making it seem wrong. The dark eyes, though, were more resigned than frightened. Luis Gonzales could be no more than thirty-two or three but he looked twenty years older, even without the crippling disfigurement of his body.

"Josiah. Tell me right now that leaving Vin where he is is a good idea," Chris said, pulling his agent aside while Nathan made sure their guests were comfortable. Ezra hung back, studying Luis.

"I can't, Chris. Just as I can't tell you pulling him in the middle of the night is a better one. But I told them -- " he said jerking his squared jaw at the pair in the conference room, "that we had one of our men inside -- which was what prompted Luis to agree to this trip at all. Juarez has a vicious temper when betrayed."

"I know that..."

"No. Chris...that," he pointed at Luis. "Is an example of Juarez's temper and very likely his madness."

"Madness? What--"

Josiah leaned in. "Father, Luis, I need to brief my boss. I shall be quick and then we will have questions, then I will take you to someplace safe where you can rest."

"We understand, Agent Sanchez. We will be fine," he said and put an arm around his companion. The rest of Team 7 left them at Chris' call.

Getting them in one spot, Josiah took a breath. "I will tell you the short version, so please..."

"We won't interrupt. Spit it out Josiah," Chris said flatly.

"Maria Gonzales arranged the marriage, not her parents, and that was only a blind because Chen Juarez had been smitten by her brother and Luis by him. She was an ambitious, intelligent and driven woman. The idea was to provide Juarez with an heir, she would enjoy the fruits of his labor and Juarez and Luis would be free to contemplate their union as they saw fit. She was well aware of the kinds of businesses Juarez ran, as was Luis. There are few innocents here," Josiah said, voice low and a little scratchy, as if he'd been talking for hours. Which he probably had been and Chris was a little startled to realize Josiah was angry. It wasn't something he often associated with the big man.

"Luis was 22 and Juarez was charming, attentive and attractive." Josiah glanced back and made sure his voice was soft. "It turned out to be less satisfying than Maria wanted and she requested an annulment. According to Luis, she found a boyfriend who suited her ambitions better and was easier to control. Enrique Alvarez. Juarez discovered it and though he had little affection for Maria he was enraged that she had had an affair. Alvarez is quite dead. His murder frightened Luis badly and there were other issues -- such as the fact that in three years, save for a few touches and kisses, Juarez never touched him, they never made love -- Juarez denied his homosexuality with the fervency of a fundamentalist preacher. Luis wanted to leave and Maria was not one to go without her own revenge. She convinced Luis to corroborate a story to free them both and he agreed. Maria told Juarez's she was pregnant and she was. And that the child was neither his nor Enrique's but Luis'. Luis did not deny it. Luis does not know if the child was Juarez's or Enrique's. It's possible that Maria wasn't sure."

"Christ," Chris said softly.

"Given Juarez's close ties to the church and its teachings, he did as she thought he would - disgusted by the adultery, the admission of incest, he wanted to be rid of both of them...he would not divorce her though. A few months after she and Luis left, Luis had second thoughts and returned. Admitted to the lie, and the deception, and begged Juarez to take him back. He did and they...consummated their relationship. Luis thought it was over. He told me through Father Cummings that he was very happy and thought Juarez was as well. He made friends among the staff..."

Chris swallowed, glancing at Luis, calling to mind Culver's story about a previous pseudo-lover and a groundsman.

Josiah's hand rested on his shoulder and Chris looked up. It couldn't possibly get any worse but it would, was. "Juarez accused him of more deception, betrayals and...beat him, quoting doctrine, enraged. Then punished him further. He cut his tongue out, Chris. He cannot speak -- Juarez punished him for his lies and his deceits and then he castrated him. And called Maria to see to her handiwork. He's lucky he survived."

Chris would barely call that lucky and he wasn't surprised to see JD turn green and suddenly head out. Ezra was pale and Buck looking like he'd like to follow JD. He wasn't sure he could stand were it not for the desk at his back and Josiah's hand on his arm.

"You understand why I hesitate. If Juarez suspects Vin has been deceiving him, there's no telling what he will do. It's what Culver was afraid of."

"I know...," Chris said, and had to clear his throat. "Vin said...the last two nights...Juarez ...Oh, Christ."

"His only protection, I hope, is that Juarez does not know what we know. And the fact that he didn't kill Luis outright. I told Luis...about the other young men. He thinks Juarez may be only satisfying a need he will not act upon. But he isn't sure."

"Does Juarez know where he's been all this time?"

"He doesn't think so. Maria made the arrangements, changed his name, made sure he was seen to and taken care of. When Luis was mostly recovered she went back to Juarez -- Luis thinks to gain money but he isn't sure and he doesn't know if his sister was murdered or it was an accident or if she committed suicide."

"He'll testify to this? All of it."

"He will. It's why he came. He has released Father Cummings from the confessional and the good father put that in process on hearing the rest."

Chris felt physically ill and he swallowed again. "Get it down, Josiah. Get him to sign it. I'm going to call Travis and get a warrant. Ezra...Call Vin. He has his cell. Call him and pray they aren't watching or listening too close."

"Chris....if Juarez hears the call, even the phone...he may...jump to conclusions," Josiah warned.

He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. He closed his eyes briefly, willing Vin to know he was in danger, wishing he could just communicate the need to get out. Get out. Get. Out.

"Call him, Ezra, then you and Buck get out there, wait for him. Get Owens and Holmes to back you up."

He wanted to go -- I'll be there. Vin...God. I'll be there. He swore and called Travis, already checking his gun. He'd kill Juarez himself if Vin came out with so much as a bruise.

Vin went to the dinner, but afterward, Juarez excused himself and the six men with him for a brief period to talk business, and Vin found himself pretty much on his own.

His uneasiness around Juarez had slacked off some during the day, but he wasn't sure how he'd feel about the night coming on. Close his eyes and dream of Chris he hoped. Maybe if he really was asleep, Juarez would take a miss.

The "gentlemen" left -- Vin recognizing none of them and only filing their names away. Juarez offered to read again and Vin agreed, wanting to delay the night, lingering to catch the news afterward. Juarez was quiet for a long while, listening to the broadcast, but Vin wasn't sure he was paying that much attention. Still, by the time it was over, Vin had about convinced himself that Juarez was, at base, a lonely old man. He wasn't sure how long that would last him.

"Vincent," Juarez said as he rose to turn the lights off.

"Yeah," Vin asked, dry mouthed but steady.

"I'm afraid I may have to cut our...visit short. Something has come up this evening and I'm afraid I may have to leave the country for a while. You have no idea how much I regret that. I think Orochristos will regret it as well."

"Business?" Vin asked, wary, and Juarez smiled.

"Old business, I'm afraid. And I am sorry. I've very much enjoyed having you here."

"I've enjoyed it too," Vin said, not sure if he should offer but giving it a shot. "I could...keep working Orochristos, have him ready when you return."

"A handsome offer. I will consider it."

"Is this like...today, tomorrow?"

"I think not. The ballet should be seen," Juarez said, walking Vin to his room. "Let's see what the morning brings, shall we? I'll be sure you have your check--"

Vin wasn't sure he could stand that much. "Don't need it. Really, Chen. It's been..." He forced a smile. "Really interesting. Liked it...the horses, the reading. Never had anything like it...like a vacation, I guess."

Juarez chuckled. "I accept your compliment, but a token perhaps?"

"I'm good, Chen. Honest," Vin said, and Juarez bowed slightly.

"Very well. Good night, Vincent. Again, my apologies."

Vin said good night and closed his door, his mind racing. Whatever had been spoken of behind the doors tonight, he only hoped he had time to warn Ezra and Chris. Something had happened and he didn't know what. If they made the ballet...he could get a call in during that time or tomorrow during the day, take Isabella out and see if he could get a call out.

He stripped down and showered and was drying off when he heard the rain start. It was dark outside, skies a grey green behind the full moon that kept trying to show its face. There was a clap of thunder that rattled the windows and the lights flickered and returned and he dressed in his sweats, fingered his phone, then tried for a signal and got nothing. No service.

He'd try in the morning and turned the lights off, doubting sleep would be an easy thing.

Nor was it, and he almost lost it when the latch clicked. Not even an hour's grace.

"Vin?"

Not tonight...God, please, Vin thought. "I'm awake, Chen. Wondered..."

"I thought perhaps not...but I've become -- I wish I were a stronger man than this, Vincent."

"Every man's got needs, Chen," Vin said, pushing the blankets back and standing. Juarez sat on the bed, watching him, and Vin steeled himself, peeling the cotton from his hips and stepping out of it before laying back on the bed. Chen caught his hand before he could touch himself.

"Once, I would have had much to offer you, Vin. Had you come sooner into my life."

"You seem pretty sure of that."

There was a soft whuff of air across Vin's chest. "I am rarely that sure of anything." He touched Vin, and Vin knew he flinched, not expecting it to be Chen's hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's all right...Can't hardly see you."

"Likely a good thing...you can imagine me to be a younger lover. Someone without...guilt or fear."

Vin pushed up, on his elbows. "About this? Natural as breathing...," he said.

"For the beasts of the fields who know no better, perhaps," Juarez said and touched his lips carefully. "There...bless an old man with...a dream that shouldn't be."

Vin swallowed, disturbed and a little saddened by it, unable to deny that there were parts of Juarez he liked very much...other times, circumstances. But those thoughts wouldn't get him through this.

A younger lover -- well there was that, and he lay back. Seeing Chris today, touching him for comfort, kissing him for promises -- dreams he could live with even if Juarez couldn't. Trusting him to ...be there. If he didn't look at Juarez, didn't see that odd expression, the one that made him wonder if maybe he wasn't closer to hell than heaven, he could do this and did. He bit back actually saying Chris' name and felt the bed shift as he came, Juarez moving and then feeling the press of cloth to his sides. Juarez straddled him and his eyes flew open.

That hungry, angry look was back, Juarez tracing the cross on his chest in semen and Vin tensed. He wanted to push the man off but forced himself to lay still. Juarez was leaving and maybe he just needed, wanted, this night to be different.

"There is beauty in everything you do, Vin...this...working with the Gold of Christ, to touch it, you would think you were innocent of all. Do you realize that we are most often betrayed by our own desires? Others can betray us...but most often it is we who are weak, who cannot subdue our desires, cannot bring the will to bear to ...reach for salvation or redemption."

Vin was barely following the words. "It's only desire...there's nothing wrong in wanting something for yourself."

"So very young...to believe the lies you tell yourself, that men such as I will tell you," Juarez said, and Vin pushed up, the tone of Juarez's voice, odd, almost chanting. It was instinct and fear, Vin's sudden movement almost dislodging Juarez. The pale eyes seemed less than pale and more like cold silver. Moonlight and shadows and the sharp edge of something in Juarez's voice prodding his instincts.

The angle was bad but Vin wasn't a weakling. He twisted and then shoved, twisting again to protect his genitals and rolling when Juarez faltered. Pain seared his side, made his limbs jerk and his spine arch, fire along his nerves at the electric jolt, Vin only barely registering the slender wand in Juarez's hand. A shock stick like the ones used in prison. His stomach heaved as it was pulled away -- a cattle prod never meant for humans.

He tried to roll away and only ended up on the floor, his legs giving way and consciousness threatening to leave him. Juarez's hand dug in his hair, jerking his head back and he moaned feeling the metal between his legs.

"Chen...," Vin gasped out. "What did ...I ..."

"Ah, Vin...nothing that can't be expiated. I am the weaker one...," Juarez said against his ear. "And you are my weakness. I would have resisted longer but...I've been foolish and careless, and God and nature have a way of showing that to me, time and again. I don't learn easily. Too old and stubborn. I'll not ask your forgiveness."

Vin started to say anything, something, but he could only scream as the searing pain came again, so much deeper than before and even that was lost under Juarez's mouth, the other man getting some of the pain. He silenced Vin brutally, Vin only aware of the pain, his blood boiling and he felt his own vomit rise, choking him. Then there was nothing at all.

"They can't get a signal on Vin's phone," Chris said, entering the conference room. "Storm is interfering." It was almost two a.m.

Josiah rose from where Father Cummings was still dictating to a recorder, while Luis did his best to write out details in labored script.

"We can have an extraction team there in fifteen minutes, Chris," Josiah said quietly.

"Owens says it's quiet," Chris said, then looked up as the elevator doors opened and Orrin Travis entered, flanked by another man and the operations head of the ATF, Lawrence McCall.

"Anything?" Travis demanded, looking like a man who'd had little sleep.

"Signals down on Vin's phone. The approach is almost....fatal," Chris said. "We've got a mile of driveway to clear and the guard gate will have the house alerted. We can cut the power -- the power company, phone lines," Chris said, reaching for anything. "Storm would make it seem normal."

"Already ordered," McCall said. "Are you ready to go?"

Chris looked at the man, realizing he was too tired and too...involved to think straight. "Yes. The power cut?

"I authorized it. We have teams four and two up and on their way."

Chris blinked and shook his head. "That's fast. We haven't even made the reports yet!"

"This...," Travis said, holding out a preliminary coroner's report. "They found Cal Jenkins. It hit my office at ten p.m. and I was gone until your call."

Chris read the report and Josiah did have to hold him up.

"They identified it as murder on the news tonight. If Juarez was watching..."

"I'll drive, Larabee," McCall said. "Get your gear."

Chris moved fast, but it was in a daze, Josiah pulling the report from nerveless fingers and then snapping it shut. "Chris," he said sharply, and Chris looked at him. "We don't know he knows anything. You'd know. Vin and you are that close."

Except he had a sinking feeling he'd already known by virtue of the fact that there was nothing there to feel. He geared up, jackets and guns and a headset check, calling in Buck and Ezra, and the trucks rolled like a small army.

Cal Jenkins' body had been in among those in the mudslide, Mutilated in a manner so like the injuries Luis Gonzales had survived, it could be no one else. Except none of the six had survived, all bearing the same fatal injury that Luis had escaped ten years earlier.

Their throats had been slit. Maimed, mutilated, and tossed into a common grave no one would have known about except for fire and rain. Jamie Culver had escaped more than he knew and Chris had sent Vin in blind and with no one to back him up.

Except for coordinating the meet with Ezra and Buck, Chris stayed silent the entire trip.

They took the guard gate silently, all power to the house cut, and then moved. Chris and Buck and Ezra hit the back entrance, searching, startling servants and housekeepers as the agents entered every door and headed upstairs.

They found the bedrooms: four of them, two unused, one Juarez's and Ezra found the forth: Vin's suit hanging, ready to be worn to a ballet he might never see.

"Bringing the power up," McCall said fifteen minutes into it and the room stayed dark until Ezra hit the wall switch.

Chris swallowed, closing his eyes, willing himself to know Vin was alive despite the semen and the blood on the bed and floor.

He got nothing at all.

There were depressions in the carpet and they followed them to hardwood then went back: Kitchen and study, wine cellar. Buck took point and headed down. There were wet stains on the wood and he knelt, touching the wetness: It was faintly reddish but not blood. "Wine," Buck said, then followed more stains as Chris moved in. Racks and racks in the twenty by twenty room. Probably from the resort. The floor was slightly damp, water seeping in from the walls, bare bulbs and pie pan shades overhead: four of them.

Ezra found broken glass in a corner. "Looks like someone broke one. This is blood," he said and looked, smeared finger prints on the glass. "Dried now."

There was no other door and the shelving rocked if pushed, except those against the walls. There was nothing and they headed up.

Chris could hear the check-ins: Stables, clear. Tack room, clear. Third floor, attic, roof...

//Vin...I'm here. I swear I am...I'm here.// He and Buck and Ezra moved toward the second floor, but Vin wasn't there. He was slipping away and Chris wasn't ready to let go.

"I'm not doing this again, Tanner. Not alone," he whispered as another room turned up empty. "Not for you...not for anyone."

His nerves were still screaming when his brain acknowledged there was life there yet. No more, no less, just pain from his wrists to his feet, one ankle feeling leaden and heavy, his fingers tingling and on fire, so intense Vin wasn't even sure he had fingers left.

He almost passed out again, unable to get a deep breath, mouth filled with something hard and thick. Bitter and tasting like rubber and blood. What light there was was weak, not steady, an old light bulb flickering like some demented Christmas tree light. He shivered and that sent more pain through him: wrists to shoulders to his back and he'd have rolled into a ball if he could have found the strength to draw his legs up.

He had to focus, think, almost vomiting as he recalled Juarez pressing the prod between his legs, sending a blaze of remembered pain through him. He breathed though his nose, afraid he'd choke on his own vomit.

"You deserve better, Vincent, but I have no time left," Juarez said from behind him. "Absolution and penance, and I'm afraid you, who would probably benefit most, will receive poor seconds."

Vin tried to twist and only managed to re-inflame his whole body, the pain nauseating him. His back felt on fire and slick and cold all at the same time. He wanted to scream but all that came out was a whimper, and he felt Juarez's hand slide on his skin. He dropped his head in exhaustion, blearily fascinated by the red streaks Juarez's finger left across his ribs and belly.

The slick hands stroked over his ass and Vin groaned softly, choking on a sob as fingers pressed deeper, probing, the shock of sensation tangling with the pain. "The sin must be both of ours," Juarez said, stroking him gently, soothing him, and Vin tried to pull away. He came close to fainting, wanting to as he was forced, penetrated, Juarez's groan obscene as was the sound of his flesh pressing in and pulling out of Vin's body in a rhythm that made Vin choke again. The gag in his mouth kept him from swallowing properly, and his body took its signals and mangled them -- Vin sobbing against the arousal that came with the feeling of slowly choking to death. He did pass out as he was fucked harder, Juarez either ignoring or uncaring of the damage already done.

The sharp scent of ammonia roused him and it couldn't have been long:, wetness still trickled along the inside of his thighs and the blood on Juarez's white shirt was still wet and glistening. Not Juarez's blood. The room was small... a cellar of sorts with little to recommend it but stairs that led to a solid wall, and ancient wood lining the wall to Vin's left. A rolling cart held stained items, the hard end of a crop, already crusted dark and an open clamp, serrated teeth shining and the exact same color as Juarez's eyes.

Vin tried to scream again when he felt Juarez grip his already bruised genitals, looping the rubber constrictor around his balls and cock and tightening it until Vin passed out again. He was brought round again and almost cried out, screamed, when the gag was pulled, but his throat was raw and dry and all he managed was a rasping cough. Juarez pressed a thin sliver of tastelessness on his tongue, murmuring softly, words Vin had to concentrate on to realize were from the communion. Wine then and he choked again, but it loosened his throat and he would have screamed but Juarez had him, the gag forced back into his mouth so harshly the metal bit cut his lip and cheek.

His legs were free, but he couldn't lift them, his feet not touching the ground, feeling like they had weights tied to them, numb and tingling all at once. He knew the tool, what it was for. It would be too large for him but it would close, tighten and cut the flesh of a man as easily as that of a horse.

Not like this, not...he could barely think, trying to keep Juarez from him but he was likely to pass out again, his shoulders burning and Juarez finally hooked an arm around his thigh, holding him steady.

It should have been a bullet, He was going to die here...and Chris would never...it would be too much. Metal touched his groin and he screamed, the sound mangled and muffled, screaming Chris' name as if he would hear him.

The lights went out.

They searched. House, grounds, stables, out buildings and came up with nothing. Juarez was gone and so was Vin. Chris remained standing only because there were too many people around to let him get away with putting a bullet in his head.

He was that close. He'd searched the stables, everyone they could find was being questioned, some of them standing in rain that would surely obscure any tracks if Juarez had managed to get Vin off the property. He could have. They'd waited too long. Chris had waited too long.

They had the blue prints spread out, McCall checking off the called in "clears" from attic to wine cellar. They were pretty sure all the cars were accounted for -- although Buck had been quite ready to break every bone in Anthony's hands to get an answer. Chris had a feeling McCall would have let him.

So where? There were thousands of acres to search and those covered in the rain and mud. Helicopters were already up, just in case.

Vin was here. Dead possibly, but here. There had been no real chance for Juarez to escape, the logic of that kept Chris staring and listening when every minute brought him less hope. He stared at the blueprints upside down...then again.

//Vin...please...// He didn't want to know. Oblivion would be better. He prayed softly as much to God as to let Vin hear him. The house was cold and damp. There were no places left to look.

"He could have gotten out the back, down the ravine," McCall said and called up the chopper to flood the area with light. "There's a road two miles down."

Chris glanced at the topography map, roads and routes, laying across the blueprints of the house, and nudged them, seeing unmarked space.

"Kitchen...what's this?" he said, pointing at a small square in the sub-flooring plans.

"Wine cellar," McCall said looking down. "You checked."

"No, *this*. I didn't see this room," Chris pointed, then looked for the stairs. "Nathan...Josiah, where are you?"

"Back of the house, off the kitchen."

"Look for a ...outside doors. Storm cellar, cold storage...," he said, turning, closing his eyes, then opening them. Buck and Ezra followed him.

They moved to the stairs and into the cellar, checking the racks. It wasn't that big. Chris stared at the broken glass they'd seen earlier. There was no place to hide -- no doors. The blank space persisted and he stared at the back wall, the shelves -- racks and racks of bottles, untouched.

"No doors outside, Chris. He may have sealed them," Josiah said over his headset.

"Buck, lights," Chris whispered, listening, pulling his head set off, and Buck backed up to hit the switch, plunging them into darkness.

Almost.

Glimmers of red and green, light through the glass bottle and Chris had to remember to breathe. Rear outside wall. Light behind it and no exit.

A sound and he held his breath waiting for it, tracing the end of the shelf and finding a gap. Buck's hand covered his. Ezra was so close, Chris could hear him breathing.

Chris pulled and Buck as well, the three of them clearing the shelf as it swung, got hung up and bottles crashed, as Buck just pulled, hard.

Buck screamed out the warning, identifying them, but all Chris could see was red, on Vin's back, on Juarez's shirt, metal in his hand and red at Vin's throat. He fired, knocking the blade from Juarez's hand then rocking back toward Buck as the slug hit his chest and he heard Ezra fire.

There was a blossom of red in the center of Juarez's forehead. He looked startled and happy and Chris didn't care. His chest hurt but he was moving. Vin was washed out and pale and unmoving, strung up like a carcass of beef and his back looking like nothing so much as raw meat.

"Vin...Vin..." He thought he was screaming, but it was Buck, calling for Nathan. Chris suddenly wanted Vin down, dead or alive, anything but strung up like that. He ignored the blood, caught Vin around the waist and lifted. Ezra reached overhead to cut the ropes. It took all three of them to catch him, ease him down with Chris at his head, trying to watch his back, his face. There was blood every where: his mouth, his back, his throat. The blood still welling up and smearing, staining Vin's skin and Chris' hands.

Still bleeding.

That required a heart beat but Chris was suddenly deaf, knowing Ezra and Buck were talking, Ezra carefully cut the ropes at Vin's wrists.

"I'm here, Vin. Come on...Vin. Don't do this..." Chris was almost afraid to touch him, afraid if he moved he might be ill, but he held Vin's head as Ezra worked the gag free, the bleeding minor at his mouth.

Then Nathan was there and others, Nathan suddenly shouting orders like a drill sergeant. He didn't ask Chris to move, didn't dare, just checked Vin’s pulse, probed the rubber cording at Vin's groin and eased the clamp off. Vin whimpered then moaned, and Chris almost laughed out loud.

"Hold him steady, Chris," Nathan said soothingly. "Let me get to his back."

Josiah came in with Nathan's kit, blankets, and a clean sheet. Buck still crouched, holding Vin's legs, keeping him from rolling onto the ruin of his back.

Another sound, a hiss that was choked off, Vin's fingers gripping Chris' sleeve, but so weakly. "I've got you, Vin," Chris said, pressing his lips to the pale forehead, tasting sweat and blood

"Chris..." A whisper but a word, Vin's tongue intact.

"I'm here, Vin. It's over," Chris said, feeling the skin of Vin's back slide under his fingers.

"Pulling me out?" Vin sounded confused, his eyes glassy and unfocused when he opened them.

"Yeah, Vin. We're pulling you out," Chris said, glancing at Nathan.

"He's in shock, Chris," Nathan said, pouring sterile saline over the gashes and bleeding weals then covering them with a dressing. "Need to keep him on his side," he warned, backing away and pushing the cart out of the way to make room for the stretcher. "He's better off than he looks, Chris. I swear."

Chris nodded and then realized he couldn't get up. His knee had locked. "Josiah...I can't stand," he said quietly, but not letting anyone take Vin. Josiah understood, getting a grip under Chris' arms, and lifting. Chris was careful not to jostle Vin, ignoring the pain in his back and his chest as he and Buck moved. Nathan got a sheet and some cold packs, snapping them and pressing them around Vin's groin, then covering him. The dressings were already bleeding through.

Chris was pretty sure McCall called his name, but he only looked at Buck. The other man dropped back to answer whatever questions McCall had. Vin had said nothing else, his eyes closed again, but his fingers dug into Chris' shirt sleeve, holding on.

"You took a hit, Chris," Nathan said as the doors closed on the ambulance. It was cramped with Nathan trying to get an IV into Vin and the other EMT already on the phone with the hospital.

"Vest stopped it," Chris said, barely acknowledging the soreness in his chest. Hard to tell which hurt more, inside or outside. Nathan got the line in and set up the bag, then reached over to grip Chris' wrist.

"He's stable, Chris. BP a little low but normal enough, pulse strong."

Chris nodded and covered Vin's hand with his own, seeing the raw wrists, the blood staining the sheets, the cut across the side of his neck that was deep but had missed his jugular because of Chris' shot.

Mercy was busy: auto accidents, regular accidents, muggings, bad tempers on a stormy night. They made Vin a priority. Chris barely heard the doctors or Nathan's clipped report: dry, clinical, kind and placement of injury.

They made him move finally, and the only reason Vin still clung to his shirt was because Chris' hand had held Vin's there. Nathan pulled him into another cubicle with a nurse, helping Chris out of his vest, then his shirt, checking the bruise already forming. Dead center shot and Chris knew it.

His head started to clear when Nathan forced him to drink some juice, the blur of the last hour starting to sort itself out.

"Vin?"

"He's going to be okay," Nathan repeated, patiently. "Doc will be here in a minute, but he was good, Chris."

Chris nodded and slid off the table, rubbing his chest. The injuries wouldn't kill Vin. He had no idea what miracle or piece of luck had gotten them there then, at that moment. What had caused Juarez to wait.

The waiting room was packed and Chris and Nathan stayed in the hall, just outside the exam room, until a doctor emerged and saw them. "Agents Larabee and Jackson?"

"That's us," Nathan said.

"He's stable. We're sending him to x-ray in a few but he's awake. Had to wait for his records, but we're giving him something for the pain. The wounds on his back are going to take some time. He has a broken wrist we suspect, dislocated shoulder, the gen--"

"He's going to be okay?" Chris asked, not ready for the details. Not yet.

The doctor paused and looked at Chris, nodding. "In time...physically, yes. He was asking for Agent Larabee."

Chris closed his eyes and pushed off the wall, ignoring both of them as Nathan asked the doctor to continue.

A nurse and lab tech moved aside as Chris entered. They'd cleaned Vin up a little -- three IV's running: fluids and an antibiotic, pain meds, probably. His shoulder and wrists were immobilized. He looked cold, shivering despite the blankets and Chris reached out, carefully pushing his fingers through the matted hair. Vin blinked and still seemed to have trouble focusing, so Chris crouched so Vin wouldn't have to lift his head, his knee and back twingeing.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Chris," Vin said it like he didn't believe it.

"Right here, Vin. You're okay. You're gonna be okay."

"Chen..."

"Juarez is dead, Vin. Ezra took him. It's okay." He stroked Vin's hair lightly, leaning in to kiss his forehead again.

"Larabee," Vin said. "Know you can do better..."

Chris chuckled a little, the sound choked, and his eyes burned. "Yeah, I can."

Vin's lips were cool, a little swollen from the gag and the kiss was as unsatisfying as it was sweet. "They are going to take you for x-rays in a few. Doped you up pretty good. I'll be here."

"Were," Vin said, voice slurring. "'member it, Chris...he said...wasn't surprised."

Chris frowned. "Wasn't surprised at what, Vin?"

"Looking for me...that someone would be...you," Vin murmured and it still didn't make sense, but Vin was out and a few moments later they came to take him to radiology. The ER nurse told them they had a bed ready but it would be awhile.

Nathan was quiet and Chris didn't ask. He still wasn't ready. Instead, they walked out of the emergency room to get clearer reception on Chris' cell phone. Rain still streaked the skies but with a steady drizzle instead of a downpour.

He called Buck and reassured him, then got the quick and dirty. They were mopping up mostly, questioning the staff, taking a few in, like Anthony. It would be dawn before he could get out. "He's gonna be out of it, Buck. Do me a favor, though, make sure they've got someone, hands or outside help, to look after the horses." Personally, he'd shoot every damn one of them but Vin would feel differently, he knew.

"I'll do it, Chris. Ezra needs to talk to you."

Chris waited while Buck passed off the phone. "He'll be okay, Ezra. Nice shot," he said, seriously, softly.

"Only one," Era answered. "Chris...the surveillance cameras were live."

Chris closed his eyes, not wanting this either. Not for himself or Vin. "Jesus...I wish I'd taken the shot," he whispered.

"However," Ezra said. "They seem to have malfunctioned in the storm...power cut off. It happens."

"Ezra..." Chris wanted to stop him from destroying evidence, only evidence against who?

"I just thought you should know," Ezra said airily. "I believe Josiah will be joining you shortly. I'll see if I can be of assistance to Mr. Wilmington. Tell Vin...it was good to see him again," Ezra said, and Chris smiled a little.

"I will. Thanks, Ezra...for..."

"Doing my job, Mr. Larabee. As we all are wont to do." He disconnected.

The rain was easing, Chris noticed. "Josiah's on his way," he told Nathan.

"Chris..."

"Nathan...I know what you're gonna tell me, and I know I've got to know, and I know Vin will need some help...and right now...can I please be just glad he's alive? Just for a little while longer?"

Nathan stared and then nodded.

"It'll keep."

"Thanks," Chris said, and stepped out from under the overhang and turned his face up to the rain.

It wasn't until after Josiah arrived that Chris actually did listen to Nathan, then to the doctor, and then went to wait in the room assigned to Vin and tried to think of none of it. They brought Vin up a half hour later, propped by pillows, lying on his stomach and right hip, drugged into some semblance of sleep, and Chris went back to being grateful he was alive.

He'd heal. Some scarring maybe but he wouldn't be crippled, not like Luis Gonzales. The swelling at his groin had already eased, no permanent damage: bruising and swelling and some burns from the cattle prod. He had another burn on his side from prolonged contact. They had a rape kit they didn't need, and a lot of questions they probably would never get answers to.

He waited, knowing he should be dealing with the fallout, the aftermath, but McCall had been the ranking agent in charge and Chris was willing to step aside. He didn't want Vin to wake up and him not be there. He'd been in and out but Chris was pretty sure he was so doped up he didn't know who or where he was, and that was just as well, since they were changing the dressings on his back nearly every hour.

The window in Vin's room revealed a dawn that was slightly less gray, the clouds breaking again. The streets were wet, car headlights sending odd patterns of light over the asphalt and the sidewalks. Might be clear by afternoon.

Chris put his back to it, so tired he had to lean against the glass. The ache in his chest had spread to his shoulders and neck.

Vin moved, shifted in the bed and hissed when he tried to use his broken wrist. Chris moved as well, pulling the chair close.

There was recognition in the blue eyes, relief that was pretty quickly replaced by memory.

"Juarez..."

"Dead," Chris said, the third time he'd had to tell Vin that and when he said it, he saw Vin remember hearing it before.

"Ezra...."

"Yeah. He took him down. How're you..." Such a stupid question.

"Feel like shit...it's okay," Vin said. "Didn't expect to feel much of anything. God..." His eyes closed briefly and Chris reached out, smoothing his hair back. It was still filthy, lank, matted. Vin opened his eyes, face less vulnerable, distant. "How'd he know, Chris...what tipped him?" he asked and Chris was confused. Vin looked angry, and afraid. It took a moment to know why, and Chris shook his head.

"He didn't, Vin. He didn't know you were undercover."

Bewilderment and some shock. "Then why..."

Vin had been thinking torture, not punishment. "It wasn't you...it wasn't the guns or the drugs...he was nuts, Vin. The...he'd killed them -- the other guys. We didn't know. We were working one case -- Juarez was...taking revenge for something else entirely. We didn't know. You didn't..."

"Shut up," Vin said eyes closed again, tightly. "Get out, Chris."

"Vin...it wasn't you."

"Shut up. Leave me be...," Vin said, eyes snapping, flashing with anger, disgust, Chris didn't know what else. "Get out."

Chris pulled his hand away and rocked back, stunned and trying not to read too much into it. Vin was hurt and shocked. Angry. He needed time to sort it out. Vin was shaking, staring... bruised lips pressed so tightly together, Chris wasn't sure Vin wasn't biting through his lip.

"Vin..." he leaned back in, not sure if he should do anything, wanting to touch.

"Chris, please..." It was a strangled whisper and Chris almost gave into that plea, Vin's begging tearing at him. Ripping through him. Afraid he'd lose him yet. He couldn't do that.

"Not this time...not now, Vin. I'm right here. Where you are..." He lowered the railing, cupping his hand under Vin's head, pressed his lips to the skin, warmer now, tasting of antiseptic and soap and sweat. He couldn't touch Vin's back but he found a way, burying his face in Vin's neck, the bandage there rough and scratchy, and Vin wasn't strong enough to hold tight but he held on with all he had.

So did Chris.

Two days later, they cut Jamie Culver loose: a very scared, relieved, Jamie Culver. If he wasn't high by the time the sun went down, Chris would turn in his badge. He might do it anyway.

A week later and they were still doing clean up at the Juarez estate. It was academic but Chris supposed there was a point. Juarez had left a lot of supply routes open, a lot of contacts.

There was no one to prosecute. Interrogations were still happening, but none of Juarez's house staff admitted to knowing anything about his activities in the small room behind the wine racks. Chris didn't believe it. Josiah called it willful ignorance.

The FBI had backtracked to the gravesite and found no more bodies but Chris wasn't sure. It might take another season of rains to reveal them. The oldest had been dead about two years. Josiah had gone over the notes, the testimonies...purchase records.

The horses were still running free under the watchful eyes of the ASPCA. Josiah counted fifteen geldings in the herd. He thought it mattered.

Vin walked like an old man, but at least he was walking. He hadn't argued much when Chris stopped at his apartment only long enough to pick up clothes. He was seeing the department shrinks twice a week but he wouldn't talk to Chris about it, not much. Not outside what he put in his report. Chris had days saved up: Vacation, sick time, but he took only a few days and still ended up working. Vin was getting around, able to do for himself. He told Chris he'd be okay and Chris believed him. They slept in the same bed; Vin wasn't avoiding his touch except when it was physically uncomfortable, but he wasn't ready for much. Not yet.

Chris went back to work. They had other cases and even without Juarez the cocaine came in. Ezra was suited up, not undercover, and they stopped it, kept it from hitting the streets but weren't likely to be able to tie it back to much of anyone. Not this time.

JD was the only one to ask if Vin was coming back and Chris didn't know. Buck watched him, met Chris' eyes and said nothing.

Orrin Travis came out to the ranch on a Saturday, and went walking with Vin. Chris watched from the porch. When they returned, Vin looked thoughtful and a little bemused, waving Travis off as he left.

"Two weeks," Vin said when the AD 's car disappeared down the track. "If I clear the physical."

"You sure?"

Vin stared down at his boots and shook his head. "No," he said. "But I won't be until I try. Inquiry's in three weeks."

Chris knew it. He'd gotten the notice. He'd gotten called into Travis' office while Vin was still in the hospital. Off the record, this time, but Chris hadn't planned on lying anyway. There were no rumors this time. Nobody was talking about it. Not even he and Vin.

They should, he thought but he wasn't ready. Not surprisingly, Vin beat him to it.

"You gotta know that it's funny that every time we get accused of doing it, we aren't," Vin said, leaning on the porch post, glancing at Chris with a small smile.

Chris returned it. He could appreciate the irony. "Maybe we should ask them to wait until we are."

Vin nodded. "Three weeks...should be about right," he said quietly, and Chris looked at him. Vin shrugged. "Shrinks say so...maybe."

"It doesn't matter, Vin."

"Yeah, it does. To me," Vin said and he looked not so much scared as a little lost, a little angry still.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," Vin said and smiled again, moving over to hook an arm around Chris' neck, pulling him close.

Chris wrapped his arms around him, held him for long minutes, touched his mouth and kissed him. It wasn't lack of emotion or need. He knew that too. A lot of it was still a blur for Vin -- he'd said that much. He was hoping it would stay that way. So was Chris. One of them knowing was enough.

"I'm going to Tulsa on Monday," Vin said when they had a little distance between them. Not too much, Vin's elbow brushed Chris' arm when he leaned against the post again. "I want to talk to Luis Gonzales." He wasn't looking at Chris, arms across his chest, gripping his shirt under his arms. A flex of muscle and Vin's face showed nothing although Chris knew it pulled the still healing skin of his back. "Josiah's going with me."

Chris had approved the time off but Josiah hadn't offered a reason and Chris hadn't asked. Vin was still looking for something, a reason, an answer. Chris didn't have the heart to tell him there probably wasn't one, but he wondered too.

Juarez had waited. Chris had gone over it and over it until he could quote the reports back in his sleep. Sickly fascinated by why Vin was still alive instead of just being grateful he was. And he was grateful, so much so it made him ill to think about what he'd nearly lost. Vin wasn't the only one having nightmares.

Josiah was dogging it as well and it made more sense for him. There was a ritual to Juarez's methods...a ritual he'd broken and that fascinated Josiah, although he was keeping his investigation as quiet as Chris was.

Luis Gonzales had inherited everything. It was in Juarez's will. Chris didn't know or care how much of it would be left once the bureau and the government got finished stripping out all the illegal properties, if they could sort them out. Juarez had known Luis was alive and probably where -- and chosen to kill other men in place of the one man he hated most.

Josiah had another name for it than hate but Chris couldn't use it. Not when he saw Vin's back every day, watched him wince when he reached for a glass on the lowest shelf of the cabinet. Not when he touched the angry wound on the side of Vin's neck that hadn't quite gone away because he sweated when he did the exercises to keep the skin on his back from drawing up and it kept the wound too moist to heal.

"You wanna go?"

Chris wanted to tell Luis that this should all be happening to him, his fault, because Luis was the only one living who could even begin to shoulder the blame. It didn't matter to Chris that it *had* happened to Luis. It shouldn't have happened to Vin. "Yeah. 'Cause you know...Josiah might forget why you're there and just stay. They've got a Labyrinth, he says."

"Josiah is just a freak," Vin said but he looked pleased, and maybe relieved.

"He is that. But he's our freak," Chris said to get Vin to laugh and he did, a low throaty chuckle that just made Chris' insides tighten.

"Yeah," Vin said, and fingered the cut. "Wonder how the horses did at auction."

Chris had heard and for the longest while he thought Vin was considering bidding on Orochristos, but he'd said nothing and the auction was today. He might have, but they held it at the estate and Chris was pretty sure Vin wasn't ready for that, and he hadn't sent a proxy.

Vin stepped off the porch. "I'll be back in a bit," he said, and Chris let him go, wishing he knew what was going through Vin's head. He wasn't really depressed: angry, sometimes, and frustrated. The upcoming physical and the return to duty tests had him worried. He could lift the rifle, even shoot straight but it hurt and his timing was off. Chris wasn't worried about it and Vin knew it would take some time, but the waiting was driving him crazy.

He went in to start dinner, something that would keep because Vin could be gone ten minutes or a couple of hours. Chris figured it would be the lesser -- he hadn't headed for the barn. A half hour later he had rice and beans simmering and coffee made, settling on the porch to go over the paperwork he had to do and enjoy the late evening. The steady crunch of gravel let him know someone was coming long before he saw a vehicle.

He recognized the pickup and didn't move, waiting for Buck to park it and get out. "You just in the neighborhood or did you realize it was dinner time?" Chris asked, glad when Buck grinned. Strained was a nice way of describing his relationship with Buck at the moment.

"Both. How's Vin?" Buck said, lowering his large frame to the steps. He had a packet of mail in his hands.

"Okay. He's out...walking or something. Travis was here. He's due back in two weeks."

Buck nodded. "Wondered if he was...you know."

"So's he," Chris said, setting the folder aside. "He should be back shortly...maybe." It wasn't the first time Buck had been out or even that Vin had gone to the office. The guys had a way of checking in and checking up on Vin that didn't crowd him.

Buck nodded and dropped the packet on the porch. "Brought Vin's mail."

Chris picked it up and set it on top of the folder. "Thanks."

"Be easier if he just changed his address," Buck said, watching Chris pick it up and check it. Chris looked up, meeting Buck's gaze, almost a glare, the normally warm brown eyes of his friend a little cooler than usual.

"Might," Chris said carefully. "Don't think he plans on moving here permanently, though."

Buck nodded, chewing his bottom lip and the corner of his mustache. "You'd let him though, wouldn't you?"

This was Buck, Chris reminded himself. It implied a lot. A lot of history, a lot of shared experiences, a lot of loss -- and joy. Best man at his wedding, Godfather to his son, first man chosen for the team. Maybe he'd hit the limits of Buck's ability to be the one constant in Chris' life.

Or not. "Yeah, Buck, I would. Or move to town if he asked. He won't." Maybe someday, but ...Chris couldn't even think that far ahead.

"It's not right, Chris," Buck said. "Not right for you," he added quickly, almost guiltily, and Chris was glad of that because his fists were already clenching.

"You're an asshole, Buck," Chris said. "I love you like a brother but you are just...God. You want coffee?" he asked, getting to his feet and gathering up the papers.

"Chris..." Buck looked angry and distressed and confused.

"I should have told you, Buck," Chris said after a moment. "Should have trusted you...we could have."

"I can't think of you...and....Vin--"

"Then don't. You ever wonder about me and Sarah, what we were doing or how?"

Buck turned red from throat to the roots of his hair. "No! I did not! Jesus, Chris! You were married and Sarah was...and..."

"Don't think about it, Buck," Chris said, trying not to laugh. "And you don't have near as much problem with it as you think."

"You sound...it's not...what do you mean?"

Chris crouched, level with Buck. "You were ready to bust heads when he was being harassed, Buck."

"'Cause I though it wasn't true!"

Chris shook his head and rested a hand on Buck's shoulder. "Nope...cause it was ugly and unfair and because Vin was a partner and a friend. You're a soft touch, Bucklin. You always have been. You'd have taken that fucking resort apart to find him, and you knew then."

"Not about you."

Chris squeezed his shoulder and got to his feet, going inside. If Buck asked him if everything with Sarah had been a lie, he would deck him, except even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn't be asked.

Buck didn't come in, but Chris warmed up extra tortillas just in case. He heard Vin come back, Buck greeting him and almost went out.

They'd sort it out.

Buck stayed for dinner, then for a beer, the alcohol taking away some of the raw edges, but he left afterward when maybe once before he'd have had another beer and crashed on the couch or the spare room. Someday.

They drove to Tulsa, as much because they weren't really on a schedule as to let Vin be able to stretch when he needed to; Vin wasn't much for planes or small spaces under the best of circumstances and it was worse recently. Understandably. Four hours into the trip Chris could tell Vin was uncomfortable, but he wasn't talking much and Chris didn't know if it was anxiety or something else. They stopped in Salina for lunch, and Chris was pretty sure it wasn't anxiety. Vin was pale and stiff but he said he was okay, just tired. He stretched out in the back of Josiah's big Suburban and slept for a few hours.

By the time they hit Tulsa and found a hotel, Chris was wishing they'd flown anyway -- or that Vin wasn't so self-destructively pig-headed. He could barely move. He let Josiah get in touch with the monastery and then hunt up some food while he made Vin lay down and put cool, wet towels on his back. The half-healed welts were angry looking, a few of the scabs broken open.

"You should have said something," Chris said, glad when some of the swelling seemed to ease with the coolness. Vin had taken some ibuprofen -- he hadn't touched the pain-killers sent home with him since he'd left the hospital.

"Was afraid you'd turn back," Vin said, hugging one of the pillows tight to his chest. "Didn't think of this, Chris."

"Didn't check with the doctor either, did you?"

"Asked him if I could go to Tulsa. Didn't tell him we were driving," Vin said.

"Hope it's worth it," Chris said, a little sharply because there wasn't much he could do for Vin. He was sure the sniping was helping.

Vin was quiet and Chris thought he might have fallen asleep finally, but a glance showed Vin just staring at the window in the room, the blinds glowing from the lights outside. "Need to talk to him, Chris," Vin said finally, tugging at the chenille on the bedspread. "Need to know...if any of it was real."

"If what was real?" Chris moved, sitting on the floor beside the bed.

"What Chen...Juarez...when you cut the power. It got dark...black...I could hear you...in the cellar. I'd...I was...you were there," Vin said and Chris swallowed. "Heard you call my name."

Chris hadn't. Not on the first search, or maybe he had. His fingers brushed over Vin's forehead. "What did he say, Vin?"

"He wasn't surprised...that someone would be looking for me. That you would be...said he should have known I mattered to somebody. Said they...you wouldn't give up. He was going to ...cut me..." Vin's voice dropped. This hadn't been in his report. Chris wasn't sure Vin remembered any of it until now. "The lights came on and he...had the gun. He said it wouldn't be long. I thought he was going to shoot me...I'd been praying for a bullet."

Chris found one of Vin's hands and covered it with his own. Vin's skin was warm.

"He just waited. Waited for you to find me." Vin closed his eyes, pressing his face against the pillow, his whole body tense.

Chris got up carefully, easing Vin and the pillow onto his lap and changing the towels, barely touching the skin. It was cooler, not so livid, the bleeding stopped. He stroked through Vin's hair, waiting for Vin to relax again.

Had Juarez turned off the light, they might never have found them -- or maybe they would have. He could have cut Vin's throat and waited in the dark, taken his chances on escaping later. He hadn't wanted to escape. The expression on his face when he'd died, both surprised and ...not just relieved but happy. Chris had thought him totally insane when he'd thought of him at all, but it all got tangled up in rage and loss, and grief and fear.

Vin wiped at his face and took a slow deep breath. "I...liked him, Chris. Felt a little sorry for him...but I...I just need to know...that what I felt was real."

"Okay," Chris said, not understanding it entirely but what he did understand was enough. "Vin, you know you matter, right? To me. A lot," he asked, suddenly unsure. It had been easier with Sarah to say it, to show it.

Vin turned a little, on his side. Chris automatically reached to grab his belt at the back to keep him from rolling over, but he could see Vin's face. "Had a clue, Larabee," Vin said, teasing but not. He squeezed Chris' leg below the knee, then lay back down and got as comfortable as he could before closing his eyes.

Chris was still smiling a little wryly when Josiah got back with the food.

Vin was stiff the next morning and sore. A shower helped but he put on a dark T-shirt anyway and a flannel over that, trying not to thing about the drive back. Chris and Josiah had talked late into the night, Vin half listening to Josiah give a history of the Franciscan order. Vin hadn't paid that much attention to it but he liked listening to Josiah talk -- always sounded like he was telling a story. It reminded him of Juarez in a way that made him both uncomfortable and a little sad. They hadn't finished the Grisham book. He'd wanted to say that to Chris. Had tried but it sounded a little twisted even in his head. He didn't want Chris or the shrinks to look at him like he had some kind of weird victim rationalization thing going on. Even if he did. Especially if he did.

The ride to the monastery wasn't bad. They stole a pillow from the hotel and that helped some. Chris was still a little angry with him but it would pass.

Vin had expected something else, when Josiah parked. Arches and stone and high walls and bells, he supposed. Not the split level ranch house and attached converted garage, there were other buildings -- but they looked like houses, like the monks had bought half a residential neighborhood and then planted shrubs along the front. The only thing that set it aside was the small church. It wasn't fancy, but it had a bell tower. It reminded Vin of the small churches used as schoolhouses during the week in rural Texas. They had a pond and fields for planting, a kitchen garden, and a small tractor near the garage that one of the monks was working on.

Father Cummings met them along with his Abbot, as Josiah called him. Vin thought Abbot Windham looked Jewish but he didn't say so. He nudged Chris with his shoulder as he followed Father Cummings. "Won't be long," he said and Chris nodded.

Luis wasn't half what he expected even though he'd known, had asked Josiah. He was in a small room with windows on two sides, sitting in a worn wing back chair pulled up to a table. There was paper there, and Vin swallowed a little, wondering how he was going to be able to read what Luis was barely able to write, but Father Cummings stayed, quiet and on the other side of the table next to Luis.

The chair Vin sat in wasn't padded but it wasn't horrible either, and he leaned forward, pain reminding him why he'd come but he didn't know how to ask it. Luis had to twist a bit to be able to look Vin in the face and it made Vin's back ache even more. He wondered what part of any of it had made Juarez break Luis' cheek and his jaw and his temple, the left side of his face concave and scarred from the surgeries that had rebuilt it so badly.

He hadn't used a riding crop on Luis' back. More like a baseball bat and Vin had a hard time thinking of Chen Juarez holding one. Caved in Luis’ ribs so that three of them had to be removed.

Luis was writing something, and Vin watched. He wrote with his left hand, and awkwardly, his right hand on the table, the fingers so curled and swollen he'd probably be hard pressed to hold a towel, much less a pencil.

He finished and pushed the paper across the table, his brown eyes meeting Vin's and his mouth turned and twitching like he wanted to say it, but there was muscle damage and whatever words he was trying to say wouldn't form right. Vin glanced down at the paper, expecting more -- it had taken Luis that long to write it.

//I am sorry.//

Vin wanted Chris so badly he could taste it, salty and wet and bitter, but Chris was out walking with Josiah and Vin could only lean his elbows on the table and stare at the words. It took a long time for him to be able to get his own words out, Father Cumming answering softly and Luis used words and expressions to answer. There was a smile there too, once, somewhere in the history of who and what and how Juarez was.

It was most of what Vin needed.

Josiah showed him the Labyrinth and Chris raised an eyebrow at the flat maze of gravel and cinders, sand and grass. "Shouldn't it be higher?"

Josiah gave him a toothy grin and shook his head. "That would be a maze. This is for meditation. Care to walk the pattern with me, Brother Larabee?"

It was wide enough for two if you didn't mind walking close, spread out over nearly an acre, if not more. There was a circular center with benches and a single tree. Olive Josiah said, but it looked like any other scrub tree.

If you followed the pattern, the contrast between cinder and sand enough that you didn't have to look down the whole time. "Your kind of place, Josiah."

"Maybe once. Maybe again someday. I like my job, Chris."

"Pretty glad about that, myself," Chris said. Maybe he would have known enough to make the connection between Jenkins and the coroner's report and Juarez, but he wouldn't have already had half the ATF on alert without Josiah's call. He didn't know if it had made a difference, even less knowing Juarez had waited...but would he have, if they hadn't been beating his gates down?

"Chris...I'm presuming but sometimes the obvious should be said. This was not your fault," Josiah said, walking the curves and turns carefully, like a man counting steps.

Chris looked down, glad he had on sunglasses because it was bright. Josiah didn't and he was squinting some. "Know it most of the time, Josiah. Felt wrong from the first but I didn't know why. And that was you," he said softly.

"I didn't see this. Juarez didn't fit the ...profile. Too outgoing, people oriented."

Chris nodded. "We got ...lucky," he said. "You've got theories." He knew it. Looking for the case files, if they weren't in the jacket, Josiah had them.

"Always," Josiah admitted, but he didn't go on and Chris wasn't sure he wanted to know. Well, he knew he wanted to know, he just wasn't sure right now was when. He stopped, looked up, saw the open fields beyond, horses running -- they didn't belong to the monastery.

"You think there's more bodies too," he said finally. "The horses."

"I do. Somewhere. It would make a strange kind of sense." Josiah kept walking and Chris did too after a moment, stretching his legs to catch up while Josiah slowed down until they were in step again. The rhythmic crunch under their feet was soothing in its own way. "You are supposed to walk the Labyrinth to its conclusion," Josiah said. "Orders the thoughts, gives a sense of accomplishment, of closure."

"I'm all for that," Chris said, more bitterly than he expected of himself.

"It'll come. For Vin. For you. Sometimes you just have to tell yourself it's done."

"I'm thinking you should be working for the shrinks, Josiah," Chris said. "Maybe I just need to see one."

"So they can tell you what you already know?" Josiah grinned and shook his head.

"Maybe. Tell me what I'm missing. Make me understand.”

"I'm loathe to give you another bat to beat yourself up with," Josiah said, seriously.

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Chris asked and wondered when he'd gotten so transparent.

Josiah hummed a little, a fragment of a hymn, Chris thought, and it irritated him that he couldn't remember the name of it -- he knew it, but the name was missing, there on the tip of his tongue. He studied the path in front of him. "What are you humming?"

"'Lord, Thy Grace To Me," Josiah said, and stopped humming. "You know Juarez gave Vin communion?"

Chris nodded. "That's what it sounded like."

"Coroner couldn't be sure. Jenkins had been dead three weeks and the body was pretty... well. He's lucky he recognized the picture and pulled the prints. He doesn't think so, though. Neither do I."

"It was twisted...," Chris said, feeling the flush of anger in his veins.

"To us -- ," Josiah looked at him and smiled without humor. "Yes, it was."

"He wasn't a priest..."

"No. You know receiving communion puts the recipient in a state of Grace?"

Chris wasn't Catholic but he got the concept.

"All sins forgiven...other theologies would say intention has as much to do with it as authority. The return to innocence, an acknowledgement of sin, that we are not infallible."

"He was going to castrate him, Josiah," Chris hissed, stopping. "He fucking beat him and raped him and was going to castrate him because Luis Gonzales *lied* to him. Don't talk to me about saving grace."

Josiah said nothing more, and Chris turned around, cutting across the pattern, heading back to the house. When he got there and sat on the steps, Josiah was still walking.

He was calmer by the time Vin emerged by himself, slipping his own sunglasses on. Chris was sitting in the sun, and Vin eased himself down to sit beside him, watching Josiah.

"Get what you needed?" Chris asked, and he wanted to know. Wanted the answer to be yes.

Vin nodded. "Enough."

"Ready to leave?"

"I'm okay. Let him finish," Vin said, but he sounded tired. Chris couldn't see his eyes. He reached over and massaged the back of Vin's neck, shifting so he could get to his shoulders when Vin dropped his head, relaxing into it. It took Josiah another half hour and Chris had moved his hand to rub Vin's back. His shirt was sticking but Vin didn't flinch or pull away.

Josiah had nothing much to say on the drive back to the hotel even though Chris wasn't really angry any longer. Josiah settled with a book into the chair in the room while Vin was taking another shower.

Chris got out the antiseptic cream and a clean shirt for Vin, studying the bigger man. "Josiah," he said, afraid Vin would finish before he apologized, "I asked."

Josiah nodded, smiled a little. "I wasn't talking about Juarez," he said.

Chris frowned, replaying it in his head, separating what he'd heard from what Josiah had said. It struck him then and he heard the water cut off.

"I'm sorry."

"Forgiven. I understood. But I'm out of bats, Chris," Josiah said gently and got to his feet. "Saw a Wal-Mart at the edge of town. I'm gonna get some blankets and pillows. Vin can lay down on the trip back."

"Thanks."

"Welcome...Chris..." Josiah stopped and looked at him, eyes understanding but a little stern, too. "Tell yourself it's done." He left.

Vin came out, towel around his hips, another at his shoulders, his hair still dripping. He glanced at the antibiotic cream and made a face, but he sat, using the towel to dry the ends of his hair. He couldn't lift his arms up that high, Chris realized, and took the towel from him to dry Vin's hair himself. He needed a bigger tube of antiseptic but he made do, covering the open weals first.

"Josiah went to the store," Chris said when Vin looked around while carefully pulling on his T-shirt. "We'll leave in the morning."

Vin nodded then took a breath. "Could we...leave tonight? If you and Josiah are up to it?"

Chris nodded. He'd be glad to leave. He doubted Josiah would protest.

Vin seemed satisfied and fell asleep on his stomach, one arm hooked around Chris' leg where he sat beside him on the bed, reading the book Josiah had put down. Vin didn't wake up when Josiah came in which bothered Chris at first and then he decided he should feel complimented. They let Vin sleep himself out before fixing up the back of the Suburban, grabbed food and then headed out as the sun was dropping.

Chris didn't ask Josiah to take them to the ranch but had him drop them off at Vin's apartment instead. Vin's jeep was still there and they could take it back.

Vin was more alert. He'd slept most of the way, but Chris was just tired. Not sleepy tired, only bone weary. He grabbed a shower and that helped. Came out to find Vin sitting in his bedroom window, looking at the fire escape ladder. "Don't even think it," he warned, and Vin grinned at him.

"I can think it but I wasn't actually going to do it," he said and ducked his head at the glare Chris gave him.

"You're making me old, Tanner," Chris said, moving close, resting his hand on the back of Vin's neck again.

"'Sposed to be keeping you young," Vin said and Chris grinned.

"That too, alternate Wednesdays. I think I'm losing ground." Vin's mouth was sweet, warm, hungry, and Chris swallowed it, felt it feed something in him, ease an ache at the same time he felt a few new ones rise up.

Vin's hands slid around his waist, moved to cup his ass, and Chris wanted to groan. He said Vin's name instead, cupping his face, knowing this need would likely be unsatisfied. Vin had other ideas, lifting his shirt free of his jeans, touching skin, and Chris pulled back, breathing hard.

The dawn was harsh and brittle. The sounds outside were distracting and too loud: cars and yelling and no silence to be had. All Chris really noticed was the fact that Vin was breathing hard too, and not from pain.

Maybe he should have protested but he couldn't, and he pulled his own shirt off, then Vin's, trying to be cautious and careful, and he should have guessed Vin really wouldn't have the patience for that.

He wouldn't let Vin lie back though, ready to be satisfied by rubbing and kissing and that wet mouth on his skin. Vin growled at him, slicked him up and sat back to watch Chris put the condom on himself. Chris almost held his breath, afraid something would intrude, surprised when it didn't, and then he was taken deep and fast, and Vin looked like he'd been holding his breath for too long. Vin moved only a fraction, his weight pressing Chris down, and kept his back straight, his blue eyes fixed on Chris' face like he could just watch him forever.

Chris could. He raised a knee to change the angle, watching the pleasure wash over Vin's face, the flush that rose on his skin, and wanted to scream because his whole body was coiled like a spring, the hot tightness around his cock moving up to grip his heart and lungs.

Vin hissed at him, trying to move a little faster and Chris grabbed his hip and thigh, slowing him, holding him, moving himself with his back tightening and he ignored it. The slow steady pressure made Vin moan and pant and finally make a small choked sound as he came, unable to keep his back straight. Chris pushed up to almost sitting, to hold him; Vin wrapped his arms around Chris' head and neck while he shook and came and maybe cried a little, the relief was so sweet.

For a brief few seconds it was quiet, and all Chris could hear was Vin breathing, the steady strong thud of his heart, the soft whisper their skin made when they touched.

Grace maybe. More than most men got once and Chris thought maybe he'd gotten more than his share.

Vin kissed him, a bare brushing of lips and Chris thought maybe once granted it never left. He'd given up believing in miracles.

But grace was something else. He could live with that. He could live a long, long time with that.

Epilogue:

Chris hung back at the edge of the range, not wanting Vin to see him. Not wanting him to think Chris was worried.

The target was mounted and fed out, pattern moving it across the area randomly. Vin tucked the M24 tight into his shoulder and waited for the mark. Even outside the actual range, Chris covered his ears lightly, watching Vin, waiting to see if he would flinch when the gun bucked against his shoulder. Rapid fire, sharp, and Vin let loose one round then another within fractions of seconds -- so close together the gun might as well have been on automatic. He adjusted the angle and sighted in small increments, never lifting his head from the scope. He emptied the magazine and then waited for the target to come back, standing loose and impassive. Chris doubted anyone but him noticed Vin roll his shoulder back or straighten his spine.

He'd finished his physical the day before yesterday, cleared for duty and only the recert left. He was pushing it -- the five mile run left him wiped out hours later but he'd done it and Chris managed to only caution him once.

He narrowed his eyes, but he could see the shots: pin pricks of light against the scoring board. Not all dead center but all disabling shots: head and chest and legs on the target looking like a hammered tin pattern on a pie plate.

Chris backed away. He doubted Vin would do any less well on small arms.

"Agent Larabee?" One of the junior agents caught him in the hallway on the way back. New assign, Chris thought, one of Travis' hopefuls. "Director Travis sent me to find you -- says it's important."

Well it would be for Travis to send someone after him instead of calling. He followed the young man, Elliot, he said his name was, into the elevator and headed up.

Travis was waiting for him, telling his secretary he wasn't to be disturbed and closing the door behind Chris. Travis' office looked like an annex for the evidence locker: case files and reports on nearly every surface. His credenza held a small TV and a VCR, and a box of tapes -- the box was tagged but not each individual tape, and Chris had to think about that for a moment.

"Sit down, Larabee," Travis said, even though he didn't.

"Problem?"

"I sincerely hope not," Travis said, grey eyes studying Chris. "Ethics inquiry has been postponed -- indefinitely."

Chris sat up a little, surprised. He and Vin had already decided not to dissemble or even argue. "What happened?"

"Red tape. Paperwork. It's not an issue."

"Travis...I'd rather be done with it."

Travis looked at him and nodded. "It is done." He sat on the edge of his desk, moving a stack of files. "When Tanner transferred in from the Marshals, he transferred to me first -- pending completion of his paperwork. We were missing some things: high school transcripts, college...they didn't come in. I've re-requested them."

Chris shook his head. "And so..."

"His direct report is to me. Until I get his paperwork."

Chris looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. "And then he'll report to me and we'll be back at supervisor-subordinate relations."

"No. There've been some very telling arguments put forward. Regs are there to discourage nepotism and to decrease jeopardy within family relations: spouses, children, siblings," Travis said, all business. "Neither the state of Colorado nor the federal government recognize the validity of same sex couples in civil unions. It was pointed out that penalties are unjust when benefits are lacking. The reg is being re-evaluated. By the time it gets out of committee, I think it will no longer be an impediment to Vin Tanner reporting to you."

Chris was surprised and still confused. "That's a pretty ...lucky break. Who put in the arguments?"

Travis got up, putting his back to Chris. "Your team is the best I have, Chris. Possibly the best the bureau has. I'm not willing to risk that over something ...that doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Chris said quietly. "I'm not going to stop seeing him, Travis. Or anything else."

"I didn't think so. Come hell or high water, eh?"

"Pretty much. Who was it?"

Travis looked back. "Such petitions are usually kept private as a matter of courtesy but...in this case, it was Ezra Standish. If the man ever wants a different life he could draft bills for congress. Put a lot of work into it. Keep that in mind."

"I will," Chris said, but shook his head. "He's a good man."

"Yes. I'd agree. Here." He put the VCR remote in Chris' hand. "It's been tagged. Evidence from the Juarez case. I've seen it, as have the evidence clerks assigned to the case. I'd rather you see it...before we find out if discretion is a clerk's prerogative."

Chris was still confused but he turned on the VCR, only glancing at Travis when the man went to the window again, to close the blinds

There was no sound, the distance and angle more or less static.

He didn't need to watch it all.

"The tapes Juarez had after Tanner was at the house without Standish got erased. Apparently the power cut caused the recorders to reset and they taped over whatever Juarez may have recorded." Travis' voice was matter of fact, no hint that he might suspect otherwise. "It doesn't matter much -- no one to prosecute, really. The other tapes he kept did help us identify the other five victims. Some of his contacts. They were useful. This one ...isn't," Travis said. "But it's been logged. There is some compassionate... concern over what Tanner experienced. It may be enough."

Chris nodded and rewound the tape, watching the start again. Then again.

"If you tell me it won't make a difference, Chris, I'll believe you," Travis said quietly.

Chris turned off the VCR and got to his feet, popping the tape out. He swept a hand through his hair. "It won't make a difference," he said finally. "And if it does, I'll take care of it myself."

Travis nodded. "You're a good man, Chris. It's a good team."

"Yes, sir." He laid the tape down carefully.

"Take it, Chris. There's no case -- and even if there is, there's nothing on that other than what you saw."

Chris stared at it then picked it up. "I'll tell Vin about the inquiry."

Travis only nodded again and Chris left, heading back to the bullpen.

Vin had finished and he looked up from the congratulations of the rest of the team to smile at Chris. He'd done well. Chris returned the look. "So, if you're clear, why isn't anybody working?" he said.

There were groans and teasing, and Chris only shook his head and went to his office. "Vin...can I have a second?" he asked and Vin rose. God, he looked like a little kid picked first for a baseball team. "Set any records?" he asked.

"Not quite but..." Vin shrugged. "I did okay."

Okay for Vin was hands above average. "Good. Talked to Travis. There isn't going to be an inquiry." He gave him the rough and left Ezra's name out of it.

The relief wasn't there, but Vin relaxed. "I'm glad...but...we'd have been okay, Chris. I'd be okay."

He'd have transferred, Chris knew. They'd talked, almost argued about that too.

"I know." Chris smiled and touched his arm. "Tell them we'll knock off early, do a little celebrating. I'll buy the first round. Hot shot."

Vin grinned and then laughed, ducking his head before he headed back out. Chris only grinned and shook his head at the hollers. "One round!" he yelled and heard Buck laugh.

They got their coats and Chris lingered, waiting. "Ezra."

Ezra turned around smiling, but it faltered when Chris jerked his head toward his office. "We'll catch up," Chris said when Vin hesitated. "Won't be long."

Vin nodded and gripped Ezra's shoulder before following Nathan and Josiah out.

Ezra put his coat on any way and met Chris' gaze. "Must be important," he said, when Chris stepped back and closed his door, then the blinds...and locked the door.

"Put that in," Chris said, pointing at the small TV/VCR combination on his side table. He didn't need to watch again and knew why Travis had stared out of the window; he found himself doing the same thing, glad there wasn't sound. Except he could see Ezra still, the reflection distorted in the glass and he turned to watch the man, not the tape.

Ezra hadn't known. Chris had thought that was the case: Something about the way Vin had looked up, had kept Ezra from ever doing so. It wasn't just the case, just the job. It had been Vin. He wondered if Travis knew or was just worried that this bizarre triangle would affect the way they worked.

"Mr. Larabee..." Ezra sounded a little cool, aplomb noticeably shaken.

"I don't care, Ezra," Chris said quietly, looking out the window. He could see the five of them, heading across the street, a pack of men masquerading as boys, pushing and teasing each other, Buck playing crossing guard. "It doesn't matter to ...me. But I need to know...if it matters to you."

"A great deal, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said softly. "This team..."

"Not the Team...Vin," Chris said, trying not to make it sound like he was angry. He wasn't. He rubbed his eyes. "I don't own him, Ezra."

"I know what you meant, Chris," Ezra said. "The answer's the same. And..." He shrugged, a small mocking smile on his lips, "Mr. Tanner has made his choice."

Chris looked at him, wondering if he knew Ezra as well as he thought. "Travis thinks you should write legal briefs...maybe run for congress. Your...arguments are persuasive," he said.

The smile faltered -- for a second. "The benefits of an excellent education."

Chris nodded. "Thank you anyway."

Ezra inclined his head and then reached over to pull the tape. "And this?"

"Do whatever you want...it's logged, but," Chris shrugged, "Travis isn't worried about it. Ezra...Vin doesn't know."

"No reason he should be further punished for...an act of kindness," Ezra said quietly, and Chris flinched. Ezra put the tape back in and turned the TV on to a station with snow.

Chris beat him to it, punching the record button before Ezra could.

"You still work for me," Chris said evenly. "And I'm still buying the first round."

Ezra chuckled. "Then I suggest we hurry or they will be well on their way to ..."

"More trouble than I can afford," Chris finished, unlocking the door and grabbing his coat. He turned out the lights. Ezra held the elevator doors for him.

Through the glass and open door, Chris could see the small screen, grey and glowing, the lines of the picture blurred.

Some lines were meant to be that way

The End