Snow Cat

By: Heather Flaherty

Chris watched as the nurse easily slid the IV home. Tanner didn't flinch. The Demerol/Atropine combination to the hip had taken away any resistance the sharpshooter might have offered. Instead, Vin merely blinked at Chris trying hard to focus on his friend. His mouth had suddenly become very dry, his tongue thickened.

Larabee noticed the dramatic change in his friend. One moment, the ATF agent was a coil of tense muscle and now he seemed relaxed unconcerned.

"How ya doin', Vin?" Chris asked leaning over his friend. The nurse was taking Tanner's pulse and O2 saturation. The sharpshooter lay compliantly in the bed.

"Dizzy," Vin slurred out. He blinked again. Chris's features seemed to fade out of focus and come back and fade again.

"Yeah, that's the Demerol," Chris informed. They had all been there enough to know the effects of the opiate derivative. The atropine had to be making him dry mouthed.

"Arm don't hurt no more," Tanner smiled lopsidedly. He really wished he could focus better.

"I bet it don't" Chris returned the smile, amused the once sharp-witted sniper could hardly form coherent words.

The surgical nurse nodded to Chris, it was time to take Vin to Surgery. The radiographs had shown a mid shaft long oblique fractures of the radius and Ulna, easy enough to fix with a little time under the knife. The ribs were just bruised; the lungs were spared.

"It's time for ya to go, Vin . . .hang tough. . .I'll be here when ya wake up," Larabee said. He watched Tanner nod weakly. Vin then turned back toward the ceiling becoming fascinated with the clockwise and counter-clockwise tile movement.

Chris sat back in the wood-armed chair watching Tanner sleep. The clear plastic oxygen mask still covered his nose. The actual surgery lasted a little over an hour. Vin's left arm was swathed in a bright orange cast from fingertips to armpit. Buck had chosen the color. He knew Vin would hate it. Larabee went along for the simple pleasure of revenge. Buck and JD had followed Chris and Vin to the hospital to make sure they made it in one piece. Josiah, Nathan and Ezra remained behind to clean up Chris's house and prepare for Vin's impending arrival.

The IV still dripped slowly. The ECG patches had been removed from Tanner's chest. He lay sleeping comfortably under a white hospital blanket. Then he stirred. He swiped the nose mask off. His eyes had yet to open.

"Easy pard' . . .you need to keep that on," Chris intoned quietly replacing the oxygen mask. Larabee sat back and continued to wait.

Twenty minutes later, Tanner lifted his head off the pillow. His blue eyes were glazed and blinking widely. The nurse had removed the oxygen only moments earlier.

"'Ey . . .welcome back, pard,'" Chris sat forward again resting a hand on Tanner's right shoulder easing the disoriented man back down to the bed. The thin hospital gown neck had slipped off his shoulder and drooped somewhat around his chest.

"Chris?" Vin asked letting himself fall back into the pillow. He felt so strange.

"Yup, you thirsty?" Larabee asked pulling the aluminum seal off the small orange juice container the nurse had left.

"Yeah," Tanner whispered out trying gamely to wake up. He leaned over and sipped from the straw emptying the few ounces of juice in a matter of seconds. He shut his eyes and lay back down.

"You okay?" Larabee fixed the sliding blankets bringing them back up around the exposed shoulders. Chris watched his friend intently. The anesthetic had worn off long ago but between the pain meds and the accident, Tanner was wiped.

"Wanna go home," Tanner whispered tiredly closing his eyes and swallowing.

They were interrupted when the Orthopedist entered the room. He was a well-muscled man with powerful forearms and hands a testament to his profession. "How you feeling, Mr. Tanner?"

"Wanna go home," Vin answered truthfully.

"Yeah, I bet you do," The doctor chuckled. "Well, truth be told . . .the nursing staff would like to see you go as well." McMann laughed quietly to himself. "You can go now . . .just want to let you know everything went fine . . .and we'll recheck you on Thursday."

Dr. McMann handed his appointment card to Chris bypassing the heavily drugged sharpshooter. "These are his pain meds . . .one every four hours, as need be . . .any problems give me a call."

The orthopedist proceeded to hand Larabee a second card. Chris nodded his thanks. He would put this one in with all the others he had collected over the last three years since building this team.

Forty minutes later, Chris drove through the blowing snow. It was early Monday morning or late Sunday night; however, one wanted to look at the division between day and night. Tanner lay stretched out in the back of the Dodge lost in the comfortable throws of a narcotic sleep.

Larabee silently wondered how Nathan faired with Standish. Last Chris knew, Ezra staunchly refused to go to the ER and wanted to wait a few days to see if the knee would get better on its own. They all knew the answer to that but Ezra seemed intent.

Jackson would let him suffer.

Chris eased the truck up the 1/2-mile of ice packed dirt road that made-up his driveway. The truck lurched into 4-wd, pushing and pulling itself up the steep incline. Pines overhung the twisting climbing drive. The heavy thick cloud cover obscured any view of the stars.

Once at the top, the dirt road blossomed into a five-acre meadow. The log ranch house sat on the eastern edge of the clearing nearest the driveway. Josiah's truck still rested in front of the garage. Larabee smiled.

The side door opened and Sanchez stepped out. The small porch light illuminated his large frame while he waited patiently for Chris to park. Josiah quietly stepped off the small wood porch and followed the short slightly concave patterned walkway to the driveway. Nathan shoveled the walkway wider to accommodate two people walking side by side. Jackson knew Vin would need some guidance back to the house. Sanchez smiled at the Chemist's forethought. Jackson had left a few hours ago still hounding Standish about his foolish decision. Ezra in his customary fashion just ignored his co-worker.

Josiah opened the back passenger side door, "How's he doin'?" The large anthropologist gazed at the young sleeping man. The bright orange cast was an eyesore. Must have been Buck's choice of color. Vin would be madder than a wet cat.

Chris climbed out of the car and opened his back door; "Fell asleep the moment he got in the truck."

"Should we wake 'im up?" Sanchez asked.

"I'm awake," the Texan slur softly rang out.

Between the three of them, they shuffled Tanner out of the truck. Chris held on to Vin's right elbow and guided the slow moving man toward the house. Josiah lumbered through the snow and held the door open.

Larabee steered Tanner to the spare bedroom. The two ATF agents slid the snow coat from Tanner and removed his boots before laying him back on the bed.

"You doin' okay, Vin?" Josiah asked slightly amused. Tanner looked like the poor end of a three-day drunk.

"Tired," the soft drawl breathed out. The blue eyes that never fully opened finally closed completely as Chris tossed a blanket over him. The sweats, socks, and blankets should be sufficient to keep the tracker warm tonight.

Chris and Josiah backed out of the room. Larabee took one last look at his agent before sliding his hand over the light switch. He left the door open in case Vin needed anything.

Larabee joined Josiah in the living room. The others must have cleaned up.

"Ezra went home?" Larabee asked. He knew the answer before he uttered the question.

"Yup" Josiah answered. Chris had missed a spectacular argument between undercover agent and chemist. One of the their all time greats. "Hoping it gets better on its own."

"Nathan point out the flaws in his thinking?" Chris asked sitting tiredly in his favorite chair.

"Oh, yeah . . .and then some," Sanchez chuckled. Larabee stared at the older man. Chris figured he missed quite a show.

Chris finally asked the question he had feared all night long, "Did you find the Cat?"

"Yup," Josiah answered vaguely.

"Well?" Larabee pushed. Why did everyone have to beat around the proverbial bush?

"Well . . .I'm no mechanic . . .but well, Chris . . .I'm sorry . . .I think it might be . . .DAS."

Chris wrinkled his brow, "D.A.S?"

"Dead At Scene," Josiah said softly then explained further. "They spear-headed it nose first into the river . . .just the butt end is sticking out." Sanchez paused and pictured the scene again. It was actually darn lucky those two hadn't kill themselves. "Looks like someone tossed it in there like a javelin," Josiah watched the man in front of him.

Chris could take a lot of insult. He proved it everyday he worked with these six other men. He had no patience but then again he had the patience of a saint. Who else would put up with six aggressive personalities?

Between Buck and JD's teenage behavior, Ezra's running mouth, and Vin's quiet defiance, Chris should be doing a slow burn all the time. Instead, he rolled with the punches, bided his time and became tyrannical only when the times called for it.

With the destruction of yet another piece of equipment, Larabee took it relatively well. No one was killed by his hands. In fact, as everyone suspected he took Vin and suggested Standish join them at the dreaded ER. He could have passed that thankless duty onto one of the others. He could have ordered and physically dragged the southerner into the truck. Instead, Chris took responsibility over his men, cared for them but didn't baby them.

Vin needed aid right now; it couldn't wait. Standish was an adult; he was capable of making his own decisions. Larabee would leave him alone to make his choice even if he disagreed with it. It was the delicate and subtle manner in which he dealt with the team that marveled Josiah.

Vin, for all his quietness, could be the proverbial bull in the china shop, just like Buck and JD when it came to certain things. Standish despite his suave and confident mannerisms could be an irritant; like sandpaper on a wound. Nathan, though he normally kept his own council, sometimes pushed his medical opinions on others. Josiah? Josiah knew there were times his worldly knowledge was not as appreciated or welcomed as it should have been.

Chris had to manipulate and temper all these tendencies and forge the seven men into a working unit. He had and he had done so successfully. JD had been pulled from his lonely world in Boston and enveloped in friendship by Buck and the others. Dunne's computer skills and ingenuity suddenly surfaced. 'The Kid' blossomed under Larabee's command.

Standish, blackballed, and set apart as an outcast finally fit into the group. His scamming and ability to redirect suddenly had purpose and a focus. As a result his work became finely honed. Standish, like Dunne, had climbed from the ranks of slightly above average to some of the best agents in their field.

Nathan's analytical mind found an adequate challenger in their leader and he too strode to live up to the expectations of Chris. His opinions and expertise were sought after by other teams. Jackson was a man to see angles in situations no one else would have even considered.

Even Vin, the loner, the orphan of the group, his skills unmatched in his marksmanship ability flourished under Larabee's tutelage. Tanner was a wanderer who skirted the fringes of society balancing precariously on the fine line between lawful and unlawful actions. Without much of a fight and with only a simple request disguised as a suggestion, Tanner joined the ranks of the Team 7.

Josiah knew Buck would never leave Chris' side. The two men had been to hell and back. Their friendship tested the bonds of times and the actions of others. They survived, where so many others would have fallen asunder. Tanner slid in and took Buck's place as Chris' right hand man but Wilmington stepped down willingly. JD needed a big brother.

Buck had watched faithfully over Chris for nearly a lifetime. It was time to pass the gauntlet. It shifted easily from ladies' man to sharpshooter with no ire. Larabee must have realized it but instead of losing a friend and a confidant, he gained a stronger respect for Wilmington. Buck focused all his exuberant energies on Dunne. For that, Josiah knew Chris was thankful. Dunne needed something and apparently Buck was it.

Josiah? He didn't know how he fit into this mosaic of personalities. He couldn't figure how Chris had pulled him into the picture. But it had happened and Josiah finally had his own flock. He didn't preach at them or force his faith or lack of faith on his teammates. Instead, he provided a sounding board; a stable force to fall back on when tides turned against them. Josiah had found himself suddenly stable in an unstable world. Chris had found away to manipulate the giant man into taking the team under his protective wing. Sanchez found himself accepting the challenge and welcomed it.

The six men strove diligently to prove to Chris that they were worth his effort. The six outcasts had found a place under Larabee's command. He refocused their diverse energies and molded them into one of the most successful working units this side of the divide.

Unfortunately, when Larabee mixed these six men into the same melting pot he created a potentially explosive combination. Nathan forever hounded Ezra about the lack of morals and ethics the southerner exuded. Standish freely fed the fire by acting outside the realms of Jackson's moral guidelines. JD and Buck, though not brothers, acted like brothers. The 'gruesome twosome' were forever arguing, always disruptive and were never quiet.

Tanner with his friendly smile and helpful ways hid the heart of a prankster. No one was safe when the cunning Texan decided to make someone a target. His ingenuity and conniving nature paid off handsomely when he was stalking a potential victim. Josiah watched it all, enjoying the actions of the younger men and occasionally coming to the aid of any who needed his help. Whether helping JD with comebacks to dig Buck or distracting a target while Vin set up a prank, Sanchez welcomed his sliding alliances with the others.

Josiah observed Chris. Larabee was contemplating his Arctic Cat, nose first in the riverbed. Tanner and Standish left alone to their own devices could destroy the China Wall without intending too. They were worse than Buck and JD. Buck always worried about Dunne's safety and surprisingly tempered their activities. Vin and Ezra still thought they were indestructible and, unfortunately, acted as such when off together. It was times like these, that Larabee wondered what drove him to form such a difficult group of men.

Sanchez yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He checked his watch. It was four a.m. "Well, Chris. I'm heading home," Josiah stood and cracked his back.

"Thanks, Josiah," Larabee said standing following the older agent to the front door.

"You get the Cat out of the river?" Chris hadn't wanted to ask but needed to know if he should put a call in to Evan. Old Evan was his closest neighbor; a time weathered rancher whose vast knowledge and patience made him a valuable friend. Besides, he had helped Chris pull his team out of more fiascoes like today's than Larabee cared to admit.

"It's still there," Sanchez chuckled shaking his head, "Vin's right. You're gonna need a Back Hoe or a Skidder to get it out." He watched as Larabee shook his head shutting his eyes in resignation.

Chris silently wondered: maybe Vin and Ezra had learned their lesson. Larabee sighed. No, not those two. They were incorrigible.

Josiah witnessed the resignation and tried to offer some bright news, "Well, at least, it won't get washed down stream. Ezra managed to wedge it in there between two good size boulders"

Chris and Josiah shared a quiet chuckle picturing the scene. The barbs and insults that must have flown while those two floundered out of the water would have been priceless.

"Thanks, Josiah," Chris said again holding out his hand. Sanchez accepted it patting the younger man on the shoulder. "Could be worse, ya know," Josiah said as he headed out the door.

Chris squinted his hazel eyes at the retreating back, "How?"

"You could have been stuck with both of them here tonight," Josiah said over his shoulder as he headed for his beat up suburban.

Chris shook his head thankful for the small things in life and slowly shut the heavy oak front door.

Ezra Standish cursed the day Vin Tanner was born. The southerner swore softly as he removed the pillow out from underneath his right knee. He glared at the red illuminated digits of his alarm clock. 6:27 a.m. and he had yet to get any sleep. His knee protested with every movement. Out of exhausted desperation, Ezra tossed the pillow to the other side of the bed. He rolled onto his right side hoping to ease the incessant ache in the swollen joint. It worked . . .for a few moments, but with muscles relaxed, tension shifted, and the pain shot back. With a tortured sigh, Standish rolled onto his back. This was *not* working. He popped another Motrin. Six, so far, in less than four hours. Screw his stomach and kidneys. He would do anything to relieve the discomfort in his knee and get a few hours of sleep. Well almost anything, visiting a doctor was out.

Vin woke with a gasp. Something smashed into his head. He let out a strangled yelp and tried to bolt up right. His muscles responded sluggishly. Instead, stomach muscles knotted but were unable to lift his torso. Vin rubbed his forehead with his right hand. What happened?

He realized he lay on his right side, left arm curled out in front of his face resting on a pillow. It was orange. Bright hunter orange. Tanner stared at his discolored arm, noticed the swollen chapped fingers and acknowledged the dull ache in his arm. A cast: a bright orange cast. He blinked stared at it blinked again and sighed tiredly. He would get even with Buck.

Chris stood in the kitchen whipping up a quick breakfast already dressed for work. He was running late. He called Buck to let him know. JD answered and before Chris could get a word in Dunne pelted him with questions. The Kid's energy reverberated through the phone. Larabee waited patiently, wondering how Buck put up with Dunne. The leader of team 7 smiled. Hell, Wilmington was just as bad. The conversations consisted of mainly short yes and no responses. Chris almost forgot why he called.

Larabee hung up the phone shaking his head, smiling.

" 'Ey, cowboy."

Chris turned around and watched as Tanner eased himself gently into a kitchen chair. The sharpshooter had an impression of the plaster cast on his forehead. The older agent bit back his chuckle.

"You hungry?" Larabee asked. Vin looked rough. The tracker appeared worn out. He rubbed at his face tiredly and slouched heavily against the table resting on his right arm.

"Not really," Tanner answered. Actually he didn't feel anything but tired. He couldn't discern if he was hungry or full. His arm looked like it should hurt but it didn't. Vin wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"How's the arm?" Chris asked sipping at some coffee. He filled a second cup and placed it before the tracker. He watched as Vin contemplated the steaming mug. Tanner dismissed it. He preferred Dr. Pepper or Coke in the morning.

"It don't hurt," Tanner said almost in askance.

"No, probably not. Doc McMann said he blocked it . . .should last a few hours," Chris answered. He produced a bottle of pills and slid them over to Vin. Tanner tried to reach for the sliding pill bottle but his hand-to-eye coordination was off and he missed. The plastic container rested next to the discarded coffee mug. Larabee noticed the sluggish movements and held his comments. Instead, he went into explaining the directions for the medication. Tanner merely nodded uninterested.

"Ez?" Vin inquired.

"Thinks he'll get better on his own," Larabee explained tiredly. He would face another battle in the office. Jackson would continue to hound the undercover agent. Standish would dig his heels in and settle in for the fight. The more Nathan pushed him, the more Ezra balked. Chris would have to bide his time and intervene when the optimal moment presented itself.

Vin nodded. He wasn't surprised but wasn't really concerned; Ez was a big boy. Standish could take care of himself. Gawd, Tanner felt run down.

"I'm heading into the office," Chris said standing up. "Buck took the plugs out of your truck, so don't bother trying to leave."

Vin merely nodded. He just didn't care.

Larabee immediately recognized the lack of argument or indignation and scrutinized his friend more closely. The pain medication seemed to have sapped his rebellious nature. Good.

"Ya gonna be okay by yourself?" Chris asked after a moment. Maybe he should stay home and keep an eye on Tanner.

"Yeah," Tanner answered

Chris nodded, "Come on . . .let's go . . .ya need more sleep." Larabee eased Tanner to his feet and guided him gently back to the spare room.

Vin fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. Chris contemplated the man before him watching the slow even rise and fall of his chest. Tanner would be all right on his own. Larabee would have Evan check on the young agent during the day.

Part 3

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