Chapter One.
Chris Larabee sat at his desk, reading through Josiah's surveillance report for about the tenth time. A nearly empty coffee mug sat beside his hand. Things were not looking good. Chris had been in his office, at the ATF building, since 1:00am, sorting out this case and Josiah's report shed more bad news where it really wasn't welcome.
The prime witness was dead.
The FBI had been too cocky and now the only person who could close the four and a half-month-old case was lying on ice in the morgue, downtown. Chris closed his eyes, ignoring the stabbing pain in the middle of his abdomen. Just a bit of indigestion, he supposed. A combination of little sleep, a diet of coffee and take away food and four and a half months of stressing over his undercover agents could do that.
Chris looked at his watch, feeling the exhaustion trying to take control. 8:23am. JD Dunne and Vin Tanner would all be walking in the office door at any moment. Chris tried looking on the bright side of the fact that the prime witness was dead. At least he could finally drag Ezra Standish and Buck Wilmington out of the undercover work they'd been doing. He sighed. The elevator door pinged open as his agents filed out into the office. Judging by their sombre moods, he guessed that they'd heard about McNish and his untimely death.
The phone beside Chris began to ring. Lately the only news that had come out of his phone had been bad. He wondered if today would be any different.
"Larabee."
"Chris, it's Ezra," the usually unflappable undercover agent was whispering into the phone, sounding highly anxious. The southerner continued, "I think my cover's been blown and…" Silence, and then the sound of a dead line.
"Shit!" Larabee ran his fingers through his blond hair. "Tanner, Dunne!" he barked, feeling the anxiety welling up inside him over the safety of Ezra and Buck. "My office, now."
Chris was brief in his description of the situation. "Ezra and Buck are in trouble, we need to get them out. Vin, get onto the FBI surveillance team. Ask them if they've seen anything and to keep a close eye out for our boys and get onto Josiah and Nathan and fill them in. We're gonna need to have everyone working on this. JD, find that list you were compiling yesterday and let me know who our best ally is within that gang. And could you make me a coffee please?"
"Sure," JD replied. Chris was absently rubbing his head with his hand as JD picked up his coffee cup.
Ten minutes later, Chris was feeling more human, although the pain in his chest was still there. It was just a dull ache now, so he did his best to ignore it. JD had found some of Ezra's expensive coffee and used that to make Chris's cup. He had to admit; the southerner knew how to pick a good drink. The caffeine surging through his system shook any cobwebs from his head as Vin came back in after talking to the FBI. What was normally a healthy competition between the ATF and the FBI was now almost warlike.
"Chris, they told me that they hadn't seen anything 'suspicious'," Vin told his boss, using double fingers to simulate inverted commas around the word 'suspicious'. "I think there's something they're not telling us."
Chris mulled over the information. "Why do you think so, Vin?"
"Well they hate our unit for a start and wouldn't be as stupid to give away information that might let us make an arrest before them." Chris nodded; Vin had a point. Before either of them said anything else, Chris heard JD's voice as he bellowed across the office.
"Chris, get in here! Quick!" Knowing better than to wait for an explanation of the situation, Chris raced out of his office just in time to see the video feed of the building where Ezra and Buck were working show an explosion ripping apart the building.
"Are our boys in there?" Chris asked. JD was asking Josiah, via phone relay the same question.
"Don't know, we can't see much."
Chris repeated his question. The sharp pain had returned, bringing with it a bout of nausea.
Chris was no stranger to nausea and dizziness, hell, after the death of his family most mornings consisted of hangovers, courtesy of his two friends, Jack Daniels and Jim Beam. He was trying to hear what JD was saying, when suddenly the floor came up to meet him.
"Okay Josiah, Thanks." JD heard the thump beside him and turned to see him boss sprawled unconscious on the floor. Vin was immediately there, rolling Chris gently onto his side.
"Chris? Chris, can you hear me? Shit!" Vin noticed the trickle of dark blood running out of the corner of Chris's mouth. That was definitely not a good sign. JD had alerted Nathan and Josiah to the problem.
"Get him to the hospital now! I'll meet you there," Nathan said, before handing the phone to Josiah. JD already had an ambulance on the way.
Twenty frantic minutes later, Chris was pulled out of the back of the ambulance by the two emergency medics, a pale Vin Tanner standing beside his friend. The stretcher was wheeled off into the bowels of the emergency ward leaving Vin to watch numbly as the paramedics and doctors rushed the blond ATF team leader away. Vin felt as though he'd been gut punched. Collapsing onto a waiting room chair, he picked up a National Geographic, which he didn't read. He jumped when Nathan sat down next to him, almost three quarters of an hour later.
"Have the doctors said anything?" the chemist asked. Vin shook his head 'no'. "What happened, Vin?"
Tanner took a breath and told Nathan exactly what he'd seen. "Chris was looking at the video feed from the building as it blew up. He asked if Buck an' Ez were in there and then he passed out." Vin's blue eyes looking into Nathan's brown eyes. "There was blood coming outta his mouth. That's not real good, is it?"
Before Nathan could answer, a white-coated doctor approached them. "You gentlemen are waiting for news about Chris Larabee?" When he saw the look in Vin's eyes that seemed to say 'Spill you guts or I'll strangle the information outta you' he assumed he was right. Nathan meantime nodded a curt yes.
"Mr Larabee, we think, has an internal peptic ulcer," Vin looked to Nathan to gauge his reaction. Nathan kept listening. Ulcers could be life threatening if not treated quick enough. Both Vin and Nate knew that the doctor hadn't told them everything. The doctor, identified by his badge as Harry James, continued. "The ulcer has caused severe haemorrhaging and I'm afraid he is currently on life support. He slipped into coma just after he got here."
As the news began to sink in, a commotion in the front reception area caused the doctor and the two agents to turn around. Josiah and JD were talking to some people that Vin couldn't see. Then they approached with two dusty men following. Buck and Ezra! The undercover agents were covered head to toes with dust, smoke and wood splinters. Buck had some minor lacerations down his right arm and Ezra sported a deep gash on his left leg, where his pants had stuck to his leg from the blood and had a nasty cut above his left eye.
"How's Chris?" Buck asked, casting a worried look at the doctor. Dr. James repeated what he'd told Vin and Nathan.
"Can we see him?" JD asked, using the puppy dog eyes look. He hadn't told Buck yet, but it worked great on the nurses for getting information.
"I'm afraid not. If we have any further news, we'll let you know." Dr. James turned to leave but was stopped by a firm hand placed on his shoulder.
"I don't think you understood the kid's question." Buck was wearing a stern expression and looked positively frightening. Ezra calmly entered the conversation.
"What I believe my colleague was attempting to ascertain was where is Mr. Larabee?"
"In the Intensive Care Unit."
"That's okay then. Thank you," Ezra said as the group began to walk away from the doctor.
"Where are you going?" James asked, incredulous at the attitudes of the men before him.
Nathan answered. "To the ICU. We know the way there." With that, Team Seven made their way to their fallen friend.
Chapter Two
The familiar surrounds of the ICU didn't make the boys feel any easier. Last time they'd been in here was after a bust that went wrong, leaving JD fighting for his life. Now it was Chris's turn to fight for his. The job of extracting information about Chris's condition was left to Buck. The ladies' man was seen leaning on the desk of the nursing station, sweet-talking the nurses. Two of them even began bandaging his lightly bleeding arm.
Nathan shook his head in mock disgust. Then he remembered Ezra's cut leg, and the small laceration above his eye. 'Maybe I oughta take a look at that,' the ex-EMT told himself. Before he had the opportunity to see to the sometimes stubborn southerner, JD sat down next to him.
"Nathan, what causes an ulcer?" the computer whiz asked.
"Lots of things can, JD, but Chris's been under a few bit o' stress lately, his diet ain't been real good. You see, there's a type of bacteria that becomes active when a person's immune system ain't working well. Stress can lower the body's immunity to infections. If the bacteria is in the stomach and the infection gets real bad, the acid in the stomach can eat away at the stomach lining, which is what happened to Chris. Then the acid ate away an artery or blood vessel, which is why he had internal bleeding." JD nodded slowly, absorbing the information.
"So when Chris gets better, we'll have to not let him stress out like he usually does." Nathan nodded his agreeance. He looked over to where Ezra was seated. The undercover agent looked like he was asleep sitting upright, but what worried Nathan was the puddle of blood accumulating around the southerner's shoe. "JD," Nathan whispered conspirationally, "Can you ask one of the nurses for some disinfectant, cat gut stitch, a needle and a bandage?" When the younger agent looked questionably at the older Nathan replied, "I'm gonna fix Ezra's leg whether he likes it or not."
Josiah watched as Nathan strode purposefully towards Ezra. This was going to be interesting to watch.
"Ezra let me have a look at your leg." No response. Nathan tried again, hoping the undercover agent had fallen asleep. "Ezra?" Two green eyes opened slowly and refused to focus. Ezra began to stand up.
"I'm fine, Mr. Jackson," the southerner mumbled softly. Josiah had come over to help Nathan and stood next to the young agent trying to refuse help. Nathan watched as Ezra paled and bucked at his knees, only to be caught in the large hands of the ex-preacher, who easily lifted the younger man onto the nearest couch.
"Concussion," the ex-medic told the rest of the team as he finished bandaging Ezra's leg, using the uncomfortable couch as a table and bed for the southerner. Buck eventually came over, and everyone noticed his arm was in a sling,
"You're only trying to get some sympathy from the nurses," JD grumbled. "That cut hardly deserves a band aid."
"Well it got me an evening with that purty little filly over there, JD."
Ezra opened his eyes, embarrassed at the crowd around him.
"You know, Ezra. You must have one o' the hardest heads around," Nathan said as he slowly helped the concussed agent into an upright sitting position. By helping him up, Nathan figured it would stop the stubborn idiot trying to get up himself.
"Why do you say that, Mr. Jackson?" Ezra asked. He had a pounding headache and was definitely not in the mood for guessing games.
"You manage to knock yourself out kinda regularly, but you get back on your feet every time," Nathan answered.
Vin added quickly, "Only to pass out again." There was a definite smirk present on the sharp shooter's face.
"Like you can talk, Mr. 'I'm going to escape and pass out five feet from Chris'." Vin had no comeback to Ezra's comment. The two of them were as stubborn as each other when it came to doctors and hospitals. It wasn't that they hated the place, it was just that they had, as Ezra had one day said, "a healthy disrespect for any place that traps you in, with minimal clothing, and contains people who take an unhealthy delight in prodding and poking people who are in agony."
Silence descended on the waiting room, until Nathan asked a simple question. During the next few days, he was going to wish he'd never spoken in the first place.
"So who stressed Chris?"
Everyone looked at everyone else.
"Well what happened to you two?" Vin asked Buck and Ezra. "How and why did the warehouse blow up and why didn't you let us know?"
A look of pure indignation crossed Ezra's handsome features as he replied, " Are you attempting to pass the blame for our leader's current condition onto us?" Vin just continued to stare at the undercover agent. With a sigh, Ezra began to relay the events that had transpired preceding the explosion.
"Mr. Wilmington was instructed to destroy the building in order to rid the area of any incriminating evidence. Between us, we agreed to sabotage the explosives to prevent the decimation of the evidence. Unfortunately I was observed in the process of disarming the bomb. I managed to contact Mr. Larabee however before I had sufficient time to alert him about the bomb, I was accosted by several men bearing weapons, which was where I received this lovely lump on my forehead," the southerner indicated the lump on his temple, about the size of a quarter. "Mr. Wilmington grabbed me and ensured our escape via a window, just as the building was destroyed." Standish glared back defiantly at Vin, his green eyes making it clear that he was not going to take the blame. Vin nodded his head, slowly, not sure whether he was going to accept Ezra's story. Buck was nodding at every word Ezra said.
"You still coulda told him there was a bomb," Vin said quietly, a not too subtly hidden threat in his voice.
"When could he've done that Vin?" Buck asked the long haired agent fiercely. "Before or after there was a warehouse on his head? Besides, it's not like you don't do out of your way to antagonise Chris!" Voices were getting louder, as the argument began to rage in earnest. Vin, Buck and Ezra quarrelled as Nathan, Josiah and JD attempted unsuccessfully to pacify the argument as to exactly whose fault it was that Chris was comatose in a hospital. Really all they were doing was letting off some steam over the frustrations they felt about not being able to help Chris. However the comments were becoming scathing and vicious. Eventually the nurses came over and ordered the six men to "stop causing a ruckus on our ward and leave! You're not helping Mr. Larabee by having a throat ripping contest!"
Stunned into silence, in mid yell for Vin and Ezra, Team Seven realised that the nurses were serious. Rather than continue to annoy the nurses, who had been responsible for looking after the seven men whenever someone was hurt, the group began to move towards the elevators. Josiah was supporting Ezra, who limped his way to the open elevator. No one had even thought to find a pair of crutches.
"How about I give you a lift, Brother Ezra?" Josiah asked the southerner. Standish looked to be considering the offer. "You might as well stay at my place. I can drive you to work tomorrow and you know that Nate will insist someone stay with you tonight. Just to make sure you don't start sprinting anyplace," the ex-preacher added with a smile.
Three years ago, Ezra would have politely declined the offer, actually no, he thought to himself, two months ago he'd have refused the offer of help from a friend. The undercover agent was shocked to find that his colleagues were starting to break down the defences he'd built up to maintain a professional distance from anyone or anything. What shocked him more was the fact that he liked the feeling of being trusted, being dependable and being able to reciprocate the feeling. Hell, he liked having friends.
"Thank you, Josiah. That would be good."
Josiah almost dropped the southerner out of shock. Had he heard correctly? Had Ezra just accepted the invitation to stay at his house and be driven to work the next morning? Apparently so. As the elevator chimed and the group began moving towards their vehicles, Josiah beamed with delight. Maybe Ezra was starting to understand the value of true friends. That or he was still badly concussed.
"These might come in handy, Ezra," Nathan said, appearing next to Josiah's beat up Suburban. In his hands was a pair of crutches that he'd pulled out of his Cherokee. It was the same pair of crutches that JD had cut notches into, for each time he tripped up Buck with them, the same crutches that were often used as a poor substitute for a baseball bat around the office. Ah, the familiar well worn crutches.
"Thank you."
"Now I want you to rest. Minimal movement until I'm convinced that you're fine, okay?"
Ezra sighed, at least he wasn't going to be looked after by Nathan. "Yes, Mr. Jackson." When the healer looked closer at the poker face before him, Ezra shook his head as lightly as possible, "I'm fine, Nathan, really!" The fact that the reserved southerner had called him Nathan, instead of Mr. Jackson, was not lost on the medic.
Chapter Three
Buck was pacing around the CDC, Centre for Disease Control, as the apartment he and JD shared had become known. He was worried about his best and oldest friend, who had been in a coma for over ten hours now.
"Chris'll be okay, Buck," JD said, as he watched Buck absently kick away the pile of laundry in his path, "won't he?"
Buck stopped and flopped down on the couch neat to the kid. "Yeah, Chris's a tough old dog. He'll come outta this just fine. He always does." JD looked at Buck and knew exactly what his friend needed to cheer him up.
"Wanna play the Playstation?" JD asked. Buck's eyes lit up.
"Only if I can pick the game," he returned back. Buck had always believed that computer games were still the best way to alleviate stress. "You be nice to me JD. I've got a sore arm and all."
"In your dreams, Buck."
Nathan was restless. He was frustrated that there was nothing he could do for Chris, he knew Josiah would be keeping a close eye on Ezra and he knew that Buck would be fine. After all, it was only a scratch on his arm. Sipping at the cup of coffee he'd just brewed, he wondered how Vin was holding up. The sharpshooter had a special relationship with Chris, there was something that bound the two of them stronger than blood. They were as close as friends could possible be. Nathan knew Vin would be feeling alone. Nathan decided to ring the hospital, to get an update on Chris and then let Vin know if there was any change. He knew Vin would appreciate the phone call.
Vin's heart began racing as his mobile phone rang. Was Chris okay? Had anything happened? He knew he should've tried to stay at the hospital! When he heard Nathan's voice at the other end of the phone line, his mouth went dry. "Nate, is he okay?"
"Yeah, he's the same as he was when we left. I just rang to see how you were holdin' up," Nathan said, hoping that for once Vin would be honest and just answer the question.
Vin's answer didn't disappoint. "I feel like I'm goin' outta my mind, Nathan. I want to be at the hospital, I don't know, just to make Chris feel better, like he's not alone. You know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean Vin." Nathan sighed. He knew that Vin was blaming himself for not picking up that Chris was sick sooner. Hell, Nathan thought, I'm doing that myself. "Are you sure you're okay, Vin?"
"Yeah, Nate, I'm okay." Vin hung up his mobile and stared at the wall of his apartment. He'd only be okay when Chris was okay.
Josiah and Ezra were sitting on the couch in Josiah's flat, watching the late night movie. The southerner was resting his leg on the coffee table in front of him, two almost full mugs of coffee next to his leg. After arriving back from the hospital, Ezra had crashed out on the couch and slept solidly for a few hours. Josiah took the opportunity to make up the spare bed and rang Nathan to ease his mind about Ezra's condition. The plucky younger man had showed no more ill effects from the concussion during the drive back and was resting comfortably. Nathan told Josiah to make sure the sneaky undercover agent wasn't just trying to pull the wool over his eyes.
Josiah let Ezra sleep for as long as he needed. He knew that there had been very little sleep for Buck and Ezra in the last few days, with the undercover work. He doubted, from what he'd seen and heard from the surveillance, that Ezra had slept any more than five hours in the last three days. Ezra woke up at around six p.m., refreshed after the five hour doze. A unanimous decision had occurred as to the subject of dinner. Seeing as how there was very little food in the house, Chinese take-away was ordered, and the two agents had then settled down on the couch. At first the silence was awkward, until a repeat of an old TV show came on. The ex-preacher and the southerner began talking about the show and then the conversation topics changed to work and Chris. Two hours, and several games of cards later, the two were still talking amicably, as friends, until they decided to watch the movie. Josiah said he wasn't tired and after the sleep he'd had that afternoon, Ezra, who the guys all thought was practically nocturnal anyway, felt wide awake.
"You seen this one before, Brother Ez?" Josiah asked in his hypnotically deep voice. Ezra shook his head.
"I don't recall having ever watched it, but I'm not entirely sure."
The movie, which was a rerun of Outbreak, didn't turn out to be too bad, except Ezra missed the end of it. Despite his assurance of being wide awake at the start of the movie, Josiah chuckled to see the younger agent asleep in a position that looked quite comfortable. Ezra's head was tucked into the crook of his left arm, which was resting on the arm of the couch. Josiah stealthily moved to the cupboard, pulling out a rug, and draped it over the sleeping agent. Then he moved off to bed.
Chapter 4
"Mr. Tanner, if you so much as even consider trying to censure Mr. Wilmington or myself for causing our leader's unfortunate state of health, I will not be responsible for the consequences." Standish's voice echoed across the car park after Vin's accusations began.
"That's right, nothing's ever Ezra's fault is it?" Vin sneered sardonically. Angry blue eyes locked with determined green eyes. JD and Josiah were unwilling observers to the argument, which had started innocently enough when Ezra had asked the sharp shooter if he had heard how Chris was. Five minutes, and several threats later, Buck drove in, closely followed by Nathan's Cherokee.
Vin was tired. Tired and pissed off that the conniving undercover agent was trying to slither out of taking responsibility for what had happened to Chris. Vin had been there in the office yesterday. He remembered JD calling Chris over to the video feed, Chris seeing the building explode and wanting to know where Buck and Ezra were and then collapsing onto the floor. Ezra had the opportunity to tell Chris about the bomb, but he hadn't. Now that Buck was at the office, Vin decided to make sure that he shared the blame as well.
The argument and dirty looks continued as the group travelled up to Floor 12, in the elevator.
"It's not like you can talk, Vin. Practically every bust, you do something to wind up in hospital, again!" Buck retaliated in the verbal World War III. The elevator doors dinged open, the men stalking off towards their desks.
"Look, why don't y'all just settle down a minute?" Nathan asked the shouting agents. No one heard him, as Vin and Ezra had been told, by Buck and JD, that if they didn't keep pulling the crazy stunts that 'always' landed someone in hospital, Chris wouldn't get so stressed out. Tanner and Standish turned to each other. One minute ago they had been ready to tear each other's throats out, and now they were on the same side.
"Oh, so you and Mr. Dunne never ever do anything that could possibly affect Chris in any way," Ezra sarcastically offered. "Why then do I find that so difficult to comprehend, especially after you two 'replaced' the report Chris had been working on for two weeks on the day he wanted to submit it? The day you two just happened to go out for coffee, and the rest of us turned the office upside down looking for the damned thing!" Ezra's voice decibel level had been rising with each word, and he was now yelling at the top of his voice. Josiah stepped into the conversation, in an attempt to pacify the agents.
"Can't you all see that this arguing is exactly the kind of thing that could tip Chris over the edge?"
Four voices returned simultaneously, "Shut up, Josiah!"
Nathan shook his head. It was going to be a long day.
In ICU room two, a nurse was checking on Chris. Linda Heath had been witness to the argument that had occurred in the corridor yesterday. Personally she wondered how come this guy hadn't had to come in sooner, with an ulcer. The six unruly men had gotten on her nerves as they'd barged through the ICU ward doors demanding answers to their questions. Linda's thoughts turned back to the man in the bed. He was kinda good looking, in a rough way, although it was hard to tell with the nasal canula and every other tube coming off him. His lips were moving slightly, as though he was talking to someone. She left then, to check on the next patient.
Chris found himself standing in a hospital room, looking at a man on a bed. With a shock he realised he was looking at himself. A whisper beside him caused him to turn. It couldn't be true. It was impossible. Sarah and Adam Larabee stood beside him, smiling, the way he always wanted to remember them.
"Sarah…"
"Hello Chris."
"Adam? But how…"
"Hi Dad."
"Am I dead?" Chris was confused. The man on the bed, who was Chris Larabee, was breathing, he could see that. But he was Chris Larabee, and he was talking to, and seeing, his family, dead for just over four years now. Sarah spoke to him, her voice exactly as he remembered it to be, soft, strong and sweet.
"Chris, you can't come with us."
"Excuse me? But Sarah, I want to be with you and Adam. I miss you."
"I know, honey, We miss you to, very much, but it's just not the right time. Your team, your friends, they need you more that we do at this time. They are so worried about you that they're fighting." The hospital room was gone, and Chris was now standing on Floor 12 of the ATF building, watching as Nathan, tired of trying to vocally end the arguments, stepped in to try to physically restrain Buck from trying to strangle Vin.
Chris turned back to his dead wife. "They're fighting because of me?"
"Don't you see Chris? They need you to keep them together." She shook her head and laughed, a sound Chris thought he'd never hear again. "Honey, you might have the best ATF team on record, but you also managed to assemble a team of psychological misfits." Chris cracked a grin, which turned into a smile. Damn but it was good to see Sarah and Adam again, even if he was only dreaming. They were back in the hospital room again.
"Chris, you have to fight."
"But I want to be with you two!" Chris Larabee was pleading like a child who wanted to stay up late.
"Daddy, please fight and go back. We'll still be here. Uncle Buck needs you. Please fight!"
Chris steeled himself. He took one last look at his family, felt his heart breaking at the thought of leaving them. "Goodbye, Sarah, Adam"
"We love you. We always will." They faded away, as the room faded into black.
Back at the ATF building, Ezra, leaning on one crutch for support, was trying to strangle Buck with one hand. The argument had turned physical and all six agents were involved. Buck and JD had told Vin and Ezra that it was their fault that Chris was sick, Vin and Ezra, who weren't even sure if they agreed with each other, told Buck and JD that it was their fault for all the pranks they pulled, both in the office and everywhere else. Nathan and Josiah were right in the middle of the brawl, telling the two warring parties that it was probably the fault of the FBI for not being co-operative, as Chris had suggested. When they realised that none of the four agents were even listening to them, Nathan lost his temper and caught their attention.
"Dammit, no wonder Chris is in hospital! Just look at yourselves!" Nathan would have continued his tirade if another voice hadn't entered the conversation.
"What in hell do you boys think you are doing?" Judge Orrin Travis asked, stepping out of the elevator and into the maelstrom created by Team Seven. Vin dropped his arms to his side, lowering one of Ezra's crutches, which he'd been about to use to push Buck away with. Embarrassment at his actions caused him to flush red. The group all stepped away from each other, realising what they'd done. The judge continued. "I come all the way over here to tell you that I've had an update on Chris's condition, because none of you would answer the telephone, and this is what I find. You disappoint me, boys. One day without Chris and you're all acting like fighting siblings." Judge Travis realised the truth of his statement. These men were like brothers, and Chris was the big brother that kept the young ones in line. He sighed to himself. "I'll deal with you all later,' he said, letting them know that their actions would not be ignored. " You can come to the hospital with me, provided that there is no more of this fighting. I've already deal with the nurses from ICU this month. An infectious chuckle arose from JD and spread to the others, obviously the Judge hadn't heard about yesterday's effort then. Orrin rolled his eyes at the crack team. The subdued group headed towards the elevator.
Chris Larabee opened his eyes, and closed them rapidly against the harsh hospital lights. He could hear voices. They sounded familiar.
"Is he…awake"
"…not sure…"
"Chris?" That one was Vin. He opened his eyes again; it was easier this time. "Hey, Cowboy!" the tracker said quietly
Chris just smiled, as he saw his agents and the Judge sitting around the room.
"What…"
"Don't try talkin' just yet Chris," Nathan said, as a nurse arrived to do her observations. She left after a few minutes, shooting the boys a warning glance that said no arguments! As she walked out the door.
Chris swallowed and tried talking again. "What happened?" he asked, his voice raspy.
"You had an ulcer and it got bad. You collapsed and now you're in the hospital," Nathan told his boss. Chris's green eyes recognised the room, from previous visits. "In ICU?" His brow furrowed. Why would he be in ICU for an ulcer? In the back of his mind he could hear a sweet voice telling him to fight. Sarah. He was more confused than ever.
Buck decided to break the news to his old pard. "You were in a coma, Chris." The Texan's eyes held more worry in them than Chris had ever seen. "You should have told us."
Told them what? Chris wondered. Then it all slid into place; the pain he'd had lately that he thought was indigestion. Buck, and the others judging by the looks on their faces, were blaming themselves for Chris's ulcer.
"It's not you fault, boys." Chris was feeling tired now, and for a second he could have sworn he heard Adam's laughter. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Chapter Five
Chris had been released from hospital a week ago and was going to work for the first time since his collapse. Buck was driving him to the office and as he sat in the car, he ran through all the things that the doctors had told him, like the 'relaxation therapy' one of them had recommended. When asked how he normally relaxed, Chris had replied, "Going to Inez's Saloon after work on a Friday." The doc had been most distressed by Chris's lack of 'relaxation therapy', and had lent Chris some music, which the stubborn patient had left untouched The only music he'd felt like listening to lately was some of Sarah's favourite CD's. Chris sighed. He wasn't sure what he'd seen when he was unconscious, or whether he'd been hallucinating, but he did find Sarah's music soothing.
"Y'okay, pard?" Buck asked, turning towards Chris.
"Yeah, just thinking about that building you blew up." Buck frowned, the doctors had told the rest of the team to make sure Chris didn't overload himself with work. They were also told not to stress Chris out too much. They could only try. "I was thinking it must've felt good to do that." Buck saw a twinkle in Chris's eyes and a slight hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth, which turned into a full smile as Buck began laughing.
"Damn it's good to have you back, Chris."
After Buck had parked his vehicle, the two made their way up to Floor 12. The sight stunned Chris. It was 8:30am and ever member of his team was working, writing reports, filling out the acquisition forms for the new surveillance camera that was needed. Even Ezra was at his desk, awake and typing. No donuts were flying through the air, from Tanner or Dunne and the floor was quiet. Chris nodded hello to everyone and went into his office, shutting the door behind him. He looked out at the desks where everyone was still working. It just didn't seem right.
The door to Chris's office opened as the blond haired ATF team leader stood in the doorway. "All of you, my office, now." His voice was back to its usual gruff self. As the men filed into his office, Chris sat down behind his desk, a severe look on his face.
"If you boys don't start messing around, pretending to work and at least making some sort of noise, I'm going to go insane." No one moved. Was this actually Chris talking? JD was the first to speak.
"But we were told not to do anything to, you know, stress you or anything."
"Good." Chris looked over his agents. Ezra was looking decidedly tired, and Chris realised he couldn't smell any coffee brewing. "Well how about we de-stress ourselves at Starbucks then?" Before Chris had time to change his mind, he found himself in the middle of the mass exodus towards the elevator. He caught Vin's eyes in the stampede. Vin nodded as Chris assured the sharpshooter he was okay. Nathan and Josiah were the last to step into the elevator. Buck, JD and Ezra piled into Buck's Beast, as he like to refer to if, because there was no way Ezra was going to let them anywhere near his Jag.
"Just goes to show you, Josiah," the Negro EMT said to the preacher as they stepped out into the carpark. "We're all based on foundations of glass. If the foundation cracks, we all fall down." The two men drew their gaze towards Chris, as he hopped into Vin's Jeep.
"Amen, brother. Amen"
The End
