"NOOO!" Chris screamed through the gag, watching as one of their captors slapped the whip handle into his palm as he walked around Vin."What’s the matter? Jealous?" he called over to Chris. "Afraid he’ll like this more than your skinny dick?"
Though his words were muffled, Chris’s reply of ‘Fuck you!’ was easily understood.
"Gee, that’s what Tanner just said," the leader responded with a chuckle. "My, what an extensive vocabulary you two have."
"Or maybe, he just wants it first," one of the others put in with a sneer.
"No! Leave him alone!" Vin cried out, fear for Chris’s safety taking over. "Do what you want to me, just…let him go," he added breathlessly.
"You talk when I say you can!" Vin’s tormentor growled, yanking on the nylon cord again.
Chris struggled against his bonds as he watched Vin gasping for air, his face reddening from the effort.
"So tell me, Larabee," the leader spoke casually, enjoying the reactions he was getting from the blonde agent. "Are you really willing to give up your career for this piece of trash? Because, you know if you decide to ‘come out of the closet,’ you won’t last in the Bureau. Is he worth it?" he asked, leaning over the arm of his chair, toward the bound man. "You’ve got a stellar career, with a promising future in the Bureau. But if you’re not willing to listen to reason," he whispered, pulling Chris close so he could hear, "then I’m just gonna have to kick you the hell outta Dodge."
Then he stood up and moved over to squat next to Vin.
"Or maybe I should be asking you the question, Tanner," he said, motioning his man to ease up on the cord. Once Vin stopped gulping down fresh breaths of oxygen, the leader continued, pulling the younger man’s face toward him by the chin, asking, "What are you willing to give up? What will you do to keep Larabee alive?"
He then moved back so that Vin had a good view of his lover. A view of Chris, bound and gagged, a knife to his throat.
+ + + + + + +
"Over there," Ezra said, pointing to the scruffy looking man.
Buck followed Ezra’s gaze and saw Tommy Wilkes as he was entering the OTB. Moments later the two ATF agents were dragging the man out the back door and into the alley.
"Where’s Vin Tanner?" Buck growled as he came nose to nose with the snitch.
Wilkes crumbled instantly. "I dunno!" he wailed. "I swear, I don’t!"
"You didn’t have a lead on McMurtry for him, did you?" the ATF agent stated more than asked.
"No," Wilkes replied, shaking his head.
"So somebody paid you to lure Mr. Tanner to the park?" Ezra asked from over Buck’s shoulder.
The terrified informant weighed his chances against the two formidable lawmen and quickly gave up his information. "It was a scam," he admitted. "He paid me to say the tip was about McMurtry and his boy Maldonado."
"He who? Who paid you?" Buck Wilmington snarled at the simpering snitch.
"I—I don’t know his name…"
"Not good enough," Buck said menacingly, shoving Wilkes’s back against the brick wall and extracting his weapon from its holster to make his point.
"Hold up, there, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra intervened. "If you kill him, we won’t be able to procure the necessary information."
"I ain’t gonna kill him," the mustached agent retorted, keeping his frigid glare locked on Wilkes’s face. "I’m just gonna disfigure him some." The muzzle of his gun poked painfully against the small man’s jaw.
"Some old guy! It’s some big, old guy. Honest to God, I don’t know his name! He’s not from around here, though. Not on the streets, anyway. I think—I think…" Wilkes blinked into Buck’s angry eyes and chanced a look up at Ezra and gulped. "…he might be one of you…"
Ezra and Buck exchanged a worried glance. "Tell us about him," Buck demanded.
When the snitch hesitated, Ezra pushed the squirming Wilkes’s skinny back against the brick wall and said, "Spill it."
+ + + + + + +
Vin screamed as the whip handle was repeatedly shoved into him, his arms and legs pulling uselessly against the handcuffs.
Chris struggled, just as uselessly at his own bonds, screaming through his gag for the torment to stop.
"But isn’t this what you two normally do?" the leader questioned both Chris and Vin. "Why, I would think you’d be screaming in ecstacy, Tanner. Getting a good butt-fuck is what all you homos want, isn’t it?"
"Stop…. please," Vin gasped the words out.
"Say what?" said the whip-man.
"I…let me…. talk… to Chris." Vin’s words, difficult to make out between his swollen mouth and restricted oxygen, were faint, plaintive.
"Nah, think I’ll just let you worry about him a little—,"
"Let him talk," the ringleader cut in. "Untie him—perhaps he’s ready to repent."
The torturer tossed his weapon back onto the table and unhooked Vin’s ankles and wrists, pushing him sideways to fall off the chair in a heap on the floor.
Vin heard Chris calling his name through his gag and pulled himself up, clawing at the ground to get to his hands and knees. Never had he felt the weight of agony like this. Not one single piece of his body was free of pain and misery. But he had to make this stop. He could withstand almost anything, even the ultimate humiliation Chris had just witnessed, but he couldn’t bear the thought they might turn on Chris and do the same to him.
+ + + + + + +
Chris had screamed as loud as he could, struggling with all his might to get free. But the gag had let through only muffled bellows and the ropes were relentless. The knife at his throat had stopped worrying him the instant he’d seen that sonofabitch take the clubbed handle to Vin. Let them cut his throat. He’d somehow get Vin free first. He didn’t know how, but by God, he would not let the best man he’d ever known suffer any more. But just when he’d decided to play their captors’ game, Vin had begged for release. And now Chris watched in fascinated horror as his beautiful friend, no longer recognizable, labored to stand before him. Blood covered much of his beaten, broken body, rivulets of it running down his inner legs. His torn flesh was so excruciating to view that Chris could not imagine how Vin was able to function with the pain.
Vin staggered to an upright position and, taking a step toward Chris, was brutally yanked by the neck cord back to his place by the chair. He fell to his knees with a sickening thud. Chris prayed that he would pass out and quit trying to prove that he couldn’t be intimidated, threatened or tortured into submission. Chris knew that whatever happened from here on, he’d never known a braver person than Vin Tanner.
The ATF leader’s prayer was partially answered when Vin remained on his knees, no longer able to muster the strength to move. He raised his head and dazedly focused on Chris in the chair before him.
"I…don’t…" the words were lost as the battered man succumbed, crumpling to an unconscious heap on the floor.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra had a tight grip on the armrest of the old Trans Am with his right hand as he held his cell phone with his left.
"That’s right, JD. Conrad Paulson’s the guy Wilkes described. We’re heading to his house. Josiah’s already checking his office," he spoke, the urgency of the situation outweighing his usual need for a more formal manner of speech.
Buck sped the car around another corner, causing the southerner in the passenger seat to grasp the dashboard. The mustached agent only hoped it would be as easy as finding Vin and Chris at Paulson’s house. But somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew it wouldn’t be. Ezra’s cell phone shrilled and he listened in on the southerner’s side of the conversation.
"Buck, forget Paulson’s house. Denver PD already checked it," Ezra said. "Josiah said he found an address written on a scratch pad on Paulson’s desk with Vin’s name on it. Head over to 45 Robinson Street. I think it’s on the East Side," he instructed.
Buck slammed on the brakes and cranked the wheel, spinning the car around. They ignored the rude remarks and gestures from the cars behind them and quickly headed east through the streets of Denver.
+ + + + + + +
Twenty minutes later, the Trans Am pulled up in front of 30 Robinson Street. The two ATF agents got out and began to head down the street, each checking around them, looking for signs of Vin or Chris, or the men who took them. Buck pointed and Ezra followed his gaze, picking up the forms of JD, Josiah and Nathan coming from the other direction. When they were close enough, Buck signaled the three to head around the back of the old, run down house, and that he and Ezra would go in the front door.
They waited a minute, enough time for the other three to get into position, before heading cautiously in the front door, their guns drawn and leading the way. Clearing the hallway, Buck silently went to the left, Ezra on his heels, and checked the living room. Next came the dining room. They met up with Josiah, JD and Nathan in the kitchen, where JD was handcuffing an unconscious man.
Josiah saw the look on Buck’s face, sensing that he was trying to recall something.
"Mark Jenkins, from Team Five," Josiah whispered, answering Buck’s unspoken question. "One of Paulson’s boys." He nodded his approval when JD finished up by putting some duct tape he’d found across the man’s mouth.
Buck pointed to the three and then to the ceiling, telling them to check the upstairs. He and Ezra would go to the basement. They all agreed and continued their search.
Buck stood back and pointed his weapon at the basement door as Ezra pulled it open quietly. Seeing that the stairwell was clear, they began to enter it. That was when they heard the muffled cries. He looked at Ezra to see if he’d heard them too. He had. With even more determination than before, the mustached agent led the way downward.
Sweeping arcs around the room with their guns, the two agents found themselves alone. Ezra motioned toward a doorway on the far wall. Buck nodded and the two crept toward it. Listening, Buck recognized Conrad Paulson’s voice, saying something about repenting. Ezra held up three fingers and raised his eyebrow. Buck nodded, agreeing. On the silent count of three, the two agents burst into the room.
"ATF!! FREEZE!!" the two ordered, the phrase escaping out of habit, the irony of it being used on fellow ATF agents, lost.
Shots were fired in rapid succession, Buck and Ezra diving for what meager cover they could find, again out of habit. The element of surprise had worked in their favor. The men in the basement, holding their fellow agents captive, had gotten too comfortable, believed the one man guarding the house upstairs would be enough, and therefore were not prepared. They all went down.
Buck and Ezra heard footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly spun around, relieved to see that it was the rest of their team. After removing any other threat, making sure the captors were either dead or unarmed, the team finally made their way to their comrades.
"Oh, my God," Buck whispered, falling to his knees at Vin’s side, tentatively reaching for a pulse.
Before he knew it, he was being pushed aside by Chris, who had been released from his bonds by Josiah. The team leader had tears in his eyes as he scooped the fragile form of Vin Tanner into his arms.
"Somebody call an ambulance!" he shouted to no one in particular, his voice hoarse.
"Already done, Chris," JD spoke quietly, putting his cell phone back into his coat pocket.
Nathan moved in and placed his jacket over Vin’s middle, taking note of the injuries, seeing if there was more he could do. Josiah and Buck’s jackets soon followed until Vin was completely covered. They stepped back and watched as their leader held the sharpshooter tight. Begged him not to leave. Ordered him to stay with them.
Buck went about the room removing ski masks from the fallen agents, stopping when he got to Conrad Paulson, who was still alive.
"He deserved it, the heathen," the older man spat. "Bringing in his vile, perverse ways. Poisoning the Bureau."
"Shut the fuck up," Buck muttered before punching Paulson’s jaw, knocking him unconscious.
He looked up to see Josiah checking on the other men, making sure the one that was still alive, Chuck White, was handcuffed. Nathan was still with Vin and Chris, trying to coax Chris into letting him check on Vin’s injuries. Ezra had gone upstairs to wait for the ambulance. JD, he saw, was just standing in the middle of the room, a confused look on his face.
"I don’t understand, Buck," he said. "Why would they do something like this? Why would they hurt one of their own?"
"I don’t know, Kid," he replied quietly, hoping JD didn’t see through his lie. "I don’t know."
When Ezra finally led the paramedics into the basement room, helping them with their equipment, the mustached agent went to Chris’s side.
"Come on, Chris," he said, pulling at his old friend’s shoulders. "Let the paramedics have him now. Let them take care of him," he urged.
Finally, as if waking up, Chris relinquished his hold on the younger man and let the paramedics do their job. He surveyed the room, saw his team members, acknowledged each one of them with a look. Then he saw the other men. Vin’s captors. Vin’s tormentors. He rushed over to Paulson and began pummeling the unconscious man with his fists.
"You fucking bastard!" he shouted over and over. "What fucking right do you have?!"
He’d made a grab for JD’s gun, wanting to shoot Paulson dead, when he felt Buck’s strong arms encircle him in a tight grasp, lift him off the floor and away from Paulson.
"Easy, pard," Buck soothed, struggling to hold onto Chris.
"Let me go, Buck!" he shouted. "Let me kill the fucking bastard!"
He continued to struggle in the big man’s grasp, wanting nothing more than revenge, until the paramedics wheeled Vin past them on the stretcher.
"He needs you more, Chris," Buck whispered. "Come on. JD’ll drive you to the hospital. I’ll take care of things here. Make sure Paulson and his boys keep quiet."
Seeing Vin again, though he was barely visible under the blanket, bandages and tubes, brought Chris back to the more important task – making sure Vin would be alright. He nodded silently as he relaxed in Buck’s grip. Buck called JD over and told him to take Chris to the hospital, handing him the keys to his car.
+ + + + + + +
Chris paced the length of the small space, his stride deliberate, angry. JD watched nervously from his plastic chair in the waiting room where the two had been sent upon entering the emergency room. Chris hadn’t answered any of JD’s questions on the car ride over except to say that Vin was the victim of a case-related vendetta. JD couldn’t think which case that might be, knowing that Vin had had the same amount of contact with Conrad Paulson that he had, but he was smart enough to know that now wasn’t the time to press Chris on the issue.
JD had never seen the older man as agitated as he was now. Each of the team members had been injured or at extreme risk in the past, including Vin, and Chris had always maintained his composure. Anger and worry were standard reactions, sure, but staying focused and on the job were traits in Chris that JD admired and tried to emulate. And Chris always defended his men with the fervor of a mother bear. But this. This was unlike anything JD had ever witnessed in Chris.
The vein in the older man’s temple throbbed visibly. He stalked around the room with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. The fury he barely contained stood out starkly on his pale, tight-lipped, clenched-jaw face. JD assumed Chris’s distress stemmed from the conditions under which the team had found the two hostages. Why on earth had Paulson and his men felt compelled to beat and whip Vin senseless? Weren’t they all on the same side? And why, of all things, strip him entirely of his clothes? Something didn’t add up at all on this one, JD thought.
Ezra was thinking the same thing. Joining their associates in the hospital waiting room, Ezra and Nathan inquired about Vin’s condition. When their leader stormed past them on his invisible path, JD finally spoke up.
"No news yet," he said, throwing a fearful glance in Chris’s direction. But the look was lost on Chris.
"Don’t like the sounds of that," Nathan spoke quietly. "It’s been more’n an hour now, hasn’t it?"
He looked at each of the men in the room. Biting his lip, JD nodded worriedly. Nathan said he would find someone who could give them some information and headed out to the ER nursing station. Desperately wanting someone to reassure him that this nightmare wasn’t as bizarre as it seemed, JD turned with an expectant look to Ezra.
The Southerner grasped the young man’s shoulder. "Vin’s a strong man, JD," he said, his usual verbosity lost as he watched his boss from the corner of his eye and tried to piece together a puzzle of mismatched pieces. "He’ll pull through this one just like he always has in the past."
At that, Chris finally stopped in the midst of his invisible path and focused angrily on his men. Opening his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by the return of Nathan with a doctor in tow.
"Chris Larabee, JD Dunne, Ezra Standish, this is Dr. Cody, he’s been in charge of Vin’s case," Nathan began.
"How is he?" Chris demanded, before Nathan even finished the introduction.
The young doctor looked at the four agents, saw the worry in their eyes, their desperate need for news about his patient. Chris was the first to speak when the doctor asked if Vin had any family members present.
"We’re his family," he said and noticed that the other three nodded in agreement, standing united.
"Mr. Tanner is in serious condition at this time," the doctor began, stuffing a hand into the pocket of his scrubs. "While no one injury he’s sustained is life threatening, the combination of them, and the manner in which they were inflicted," he paused, still not believing what he’d been told, "have been enough to warrant the serious status."
The doctor looked down quickly at his chart before continuing. "Dr. Harrington, from plastics has already taken a look at the, uh, lacerations. She’ll suture up the deep ones, along with the ones on his face and earlobe, once he’s back from radiology. The orthopedist on call will fix the shoulder dislocation and…." He paused, again looking at the men looking at him, before continuing, "Once that’s done, we’ll set up the surgery to repair the damage to…" Dr. Cody decided against the clinical, opting for the vague, "…that he sustained from the, uh, sexual assault."
Chris closed his eyes and thus, failed to see the shocked faces of his men as the doctor’s words revealed possibly the worst part of Vin’s torture.
"Thanks, Doc," Nathan managed to get out, releasing the young doctor from his task, shaking his hand before allowing him to get back to the emergency room.
"That sick son of a bitch," JD whispered, backing away from the group, needing to escape the renewed horror he felt.
Chris opened his eyes then, hearing JD’s words. He turned to Nathan.
"Give me your cell phone," he ordered.
The dark man obeyed, seeing the determination in his boss’s eyes. They heard him bark Buck’s name into the thing as he stalked out of the waiting room, leaving the remaining three in his wake.
+ + + + + + +
Chris continued to talk to Buck as he hailed the cab outside the hospital’s emergency entrance.
"Who’s left?" he asked.
"Besides Paulson, Jenkins and White are still here," Buck replied. "Paulson took one in the shoulder and White’s got a bullet in his leg, but they don’t look too bad. We’ve been able to hold off the paramedics, keepin’ ‘em on standby in the street until the scene’s ‘more secure.’’ Jenkins is still hog-tied and gagged."
"How much does Josiah know?" Chris asked.
"Nothin’ solid yet," the mustached agent replied with a sigh, knowing what Chris was referring to. "They’re both spewin’ stuff about you and Vin, callin’ ya homos and all," he said quietly, angrily. "But as much as I’d like, there’s only so many times I can punch the two of ‘em out without Josiah gettin’ too suspicious. And," he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair before adding, "we found something…something they used to hurt Vin."
"I know," Chris said, knowing just what Buck was talking about. "I’m about five minutes away."
"Chris," Buck called before his old friend could hang up. "AD Travis just called me, too. Wants to know what’s been goin’ on. Said Denver PD called him about the shooting. I’ve been able to keep DPD at bay, spoutin’ about an important ATF investigation and all, tellin’ them that we found you and Vin and that we thanked them for their earlier assistance. But Travis is livid. I told him that he’d have to talk to you, that you’d fill him in. He’s probably gonna come down here," he added.
"Alright, thanks, Buck," Chris said, hoping his old friend heard the sincerity in his voice, conveying his thanks for a thousand things at that moment, before turning off the cell phone.
A few minutes later, as the cab pulled away from the curb, Chris watched as AD Travis, driving an obvious company car, pulled past the ambulance and parked on the sidewalk. The blonde took a deep breath and waited for the barrage of questions that would come.
Travis glared at Chris, motioning him into the house. He was one of the few people able to do that to Chris Larabee and it had nothing to do with him being the ATF supervisor’s boss. Josiah had been upstairs in the kitchen and saw the two men enter. After nodding to Chris and the AD, he went back downstairs.
"What the hell is going on, Chris?" Travis asked, once they were inside the house.
"Conrad Paulson and some of his boys kidnapped and tortured Vin," he said, his voice only slightly shaky.
"What?!" the older man exclaimed. "Paulson? He’s been with the Bureau for years! An excellent agent. Why would he do that?" he sputtered.
"It was… He..," Chris began, not knowing what to say. He took another deep breath before saying, "He did it because he thinks Vin is gay. That… that he and I are…together."
Travis looked up sharply at Chris’s words. He studied the man before him. Wondered briefly if it was true. But then returned to the true matter at hand.
"Is Vin alright?" he asked.
"He’s at the hospital, in serious condition," Chris replied, somewhat surprised, but relieved that Travis hadn’t asked if Paulson’s accusations were true.
"Where’re Paulson and his men?" Travis continued.
"Downstairs. Buck and Josiah are with them," he replied, gesturing toward the cellar door.
The two men made their way downstairs, past Josiah’s guard position and to the back room where Buck had been keeping watch over Paulson, Jenkins and White. Travis took in the scene of the crime, including the two dead bodies - Joe Martin and Steve Treadwell - recognizing those men as ATF as well. He saw the blood on the floor and, noting the absence of a body to its proximity, he realized that it must have been Vin’s blood.
"Wilmington," Travis acknowledged the mustached agent.
Buck returned the AD’s acknowledgment with a nod and took a position next to Chris, ready to grab his old friend, prevent a murder, if necessary. The two watched as Travis kicked Conrad Paulson’s shoes, none too gently they noticed, rousing the ATF supervisor.
"Paulson!" he shouted, glaring at the man, getting his attention.
"Ah, Assistant Director Travis," Paulson drawled painfully as he looked up. "The man in charge. Come to join our party? Or are you siding with these subversives, participating in the ultimate downfall of the Bureau?"
Buck held on tight to Chris’s arm, nodding to the AD before them. Travis had squatted down to meet Paulson at his level.
"You, Agent Paulson," the older man spoke, his tone icy, "are the subversive one in this room."
"It’s unnatural!" Paulson spat. "You know -,"
"What I know," Travis countered, cutting him off angrily, "is that you and your men have committed acts against the laws you were sworn to uphold! You kidnapped and tortured fellow agents, for God’s sake! And I don’t give a damn about your reasons!"
"Well, Larabee," Paulson began, looking away from Travis toward the blonde agent. "Regardless of this unfortunate outcome, my plan will still work. You and Tanner aren’t going to have jobs in the Bureau for much longer. Once word gets out…" he trailed, smiling.
"Let me hit him again," Buck said, putting up a readied fist.
Travis shook his head in disgust at Paulson. He stood up and motioned Chris into the outer room.
The blonde knew what was coming.
"I’m not going to ask if it’s true or not, Chris," the older man spoke, meeting Chris’s troubled gaze. "That isn’t any of my business. But I need to know how you, and Vin, want to proceed. Obviously IA is going to be involved. And I’m suspending all three of them immediately. But how far are we going to go? White and Jenkins will probably go for a deal, trading silence for a resignation. But Paulson won’t go down quietly."
"I know," Chris replied, rubbing a shaky hand through his hair. "Wish he’d been one of the fatals," he added quietly, looking back toward the room.
Travis sighed, inwardly agreeing with Chris’s statement. He did not like this situation. The ATF had had too many bad raps lately. They didn’t need something like this adding to their already less than perfect image. He took another close look at Chris. He was beginning to form an opinion of what the truth about Vin and Chris might be. He pulled out his cell phone and Chris listened as Travis called in members of the Internal Affairs Department and Team One.
"Get Paulson and White to the hospital, Chris," he said, putting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. "Take Sanchez with you, I’ve had some of Team One head there as well, to make sure the prisoner detail is set up. Leave Wilmington with me and Jenkins and we’ll start on the damage control."
Chris hesitated for a moment before the older man gave him a reassuring nod.
"Josiah. Help me get this trash upstairs. We’re getting out of here," he called.
+ + + + + + +
Several hours later, six men stood huddled outside the glass-walled room of the ICU, sneaking furtive glances at the pathetic form of their comrade as he lay helplessly being hooked to all manner of needles, tubes and monitors. God, what a mess, Buck thought, seeing a nurse lift a limp arm to adjust an IV tube. He heard the low moan all the way out here and couldn’t even begin to imagine how effing miserable Vin must be. Shit! And now Chris was all tied up in this way deeper than anyone else could possibly know. They couldn’t know. Buck had promised Chris.
As the medical staff left Vin’s room, a woman, who identified herself as Dr. Bettini, acknowledged the group and said, "If you want to see him, it will have to be just one of you. He really needs to be left alone to rest…." she left off, looking at the shocked faces before her. She’d seen the look too many times and these men all shared that stunned demeanor that said they simply couldn’t believe this was happening to one of their own.
As one, five men turned expectant eyes to their leader. He nodded grimly and walked tentatively into Vin’s room. Stopping next to the head of the bed, Chris tried to get his mind to register all the medical paraphernalia streaming into and out of his lover and found that he simply couldn’t. Instead, he let his eyes caress the battered, puffy face that even in its extremely wounded state was beautiful to him. Let his eyes touch and love what his hands couldn’t have—not with five men who relied on him, who trusted him, who wouldn’t, couldn’t, possibly understand how he felt about this man lying on the bed, watching his every move from the other side of the glass walls.
"Vin," Chris tried to whisper, but only a croak came out. He cleared his throat. "Pard?" He leaned over the bed, gripping the metal bars tightly to keep from touching the injured man, knowing that even the most innocently intended touch could expose his feelings to his nearby men.
Vin’s right eye fluttered open, the left being swollen shut in a purplish-red shiner. "Chris?" Vin winced from the effort of talking through a bruised throat and battered mouth. "Chris?" His voice, low and raspy, held a note of panic. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Sure, Vin. I’m fine," the older man assured him, giving in to the impulse to lay a soothing hand on Vin’s forehead.
"I…I couldn’t…remember…I thought they…." Vin shook his head slightly, trying to eradicate the last image he’d had of Chris bound and gagged with knife to throat. He grimaced with the effort.
"No, no." Chris worked to keep the despair from his voice. "No one touched me, Vin. I’m fine."
Vin tried to turn his face into Chris’s warm hand, tried to feel the comfort of the one person he loved and who loved him. But Chris quickly took his hand away, not risking a peek at the windows.
Vin lay quietly for a few minutes. Just when Chris thought he’d fallen asleep, the patient spoke softly. "We…fired?"
"No. ‘Course not. But don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything and nobody’s gettin’ fired. Trust me." Chris hoped he sounded confident since he had no idea how to make good on his vow. ‘At least nobody but that bastard Paulson and his boys better get fired,’ he hoped.
"Cowboy?" Vin’s harsh whisper intruded on Chris’s thoughts.
"Yup?"
"I just….wanna sleep," Vin winced and drew in a sharp breath after trying to move his wrenched shoulder, "…in your arms…" The sharpshooter looked up into the face of his secret lover, then closed his one good eye, causing a tear to run down his temple into his hair.
Chris leaned further over the bed. "You will, Pard, soon. I promise."
The Team Seven leader bowed his head, taking a moment to compose himself, then returned to his men in the waiting area. Outwardly he tried for stalwart; inside, his heart was hammering so hard he could barely think. He just couldn’t believe how bad off Vin was and it was all so fucking unnecessary. Preventable. His fault.
He stopped amid the questioning looks. "He—he’s gonna rest some. Says to say thanks for being here…"
A barrage of questions flew at him, but Chris couldn’t pretend anymore. Without a word, he left the waiting area. Each of the team members looked to the others for answers.
"I’ll go see –," Buck started.
"No, Buck." Josiah laid a strong hand on Buck’s arm. "Wait here," said the ex-preacher. "I’ll go."
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