Buck had been so sure the boy was waking up. JD'd called out for him but, even though Buck had been right there to answer his call, the kid had simply faded again. Understandable, given that he was so very weak and drugged to the hilt to boot, but Buck still didn't like it. The kid's expression was too pained, like he was upset along with hurting so bad and that was something the big man just couldn't abide. Buck would give anything to take away the anguish still playing across the unconscious boy's face. And he knew just how to do it, too.

Despite his better judgment, and the dressing down he'd get from Nathan if ever he found out what he was about to do, Buck tenderly tousled JD’s hair and spoke softly once again in his ear.

"JD? C'mon, boy. Wake up for me, kid."

A soft breathless sigh followed in the wake of Buck's words, resulting in the desired effect. The boy began to stir.

"That's it, son. Open your eyes for ole Buck." The agent’s heart grew lighter as he witnessed the hopeful signs of life emerging from the kid. JD swallowed once with some difficulty and Buck readied the water glass and straw setting next to the bed awaiting the youth's return to consciousness.

Cupping his palm against JD's cheek, he hoped his touch would provide JD a focal point to help him fight the fog undoubtedly clouding his mind, as well as providing the comfort, security and strength he knew the kid would so desperately need, after everything he'd just gone through and had yet to endure.

Thick, dark lashes fluttered against the shadowy hollows beneath his eyes, and Buck found himself holding his own breath in anticipation of their unveiling. Only when he felt the warm skin beneath his palm twitch and then turn into his touch, did he allow himself the luxury of exhaling. "That's my boy," he breathed, unaware of the tears filling his own eyes.

When finally tiny slits of hazel peered up into his view, the big man simply couldn't prevent at least one tear from trailing along his cheek. "Aw, JD." In spite of barely open eyes, the boy's confusion and suffering were plainly revealed to the man who could read him like a book. And Buck's heart and soul ached with the revelation. "I'm here, little brother. Everythin's gonna be all right."

JD tried to speak Buck's name, but only a scraping sound escaped his throat. Before the kid could try again, he felt a straw meet his lips and he instinctively drew in the moisture his body so desperately craved. He'd shut his eyes already by then and, as he felt Buck lower him back against the pillow, wondered how he hadn't even noticed Buck helping him up to drink the precious water in the first place. God, he was so tired.

Despite his deep dread of Buck having to leave him alone again upon his return to court, JD couldn’t help but be incredibly grateful that his best friend was here with him now. Guiltily he struggled to re-open his eyes. Hell, he'd been praying for Buck to come, the least he could do was look at him. He tried to will his rebellious eyelids open, but they were just too heavy. "'M sorry," he murmured, ashamed of his weakness, even though he knew he had every reason to feel as fragile as he did at that moment.

Buck's spirit soared just hearing the boy speak. The kid’s apology though, just wouldn't do. He instinctively knew what the boy was struggling with, so tried to speak casually, keeping all of his own worry at bay. "Don't you fret none, JD. I don’t think the doctors really want ya awake yet, anyway. Just go ahead and keep them eyes shut. It ain't as if I never seen 'em before."

Typically, Buck's soft chiding produced the opposite reaction, although this time that hadn't actually been his intention. With monumental effort, the boy deliberately forced his leaden lashes apart and was immediately met with a warm smile and a touch of exasperation sparkling in Buck's eyes.

"Stubborn little shit." Lightly patting the kid's cheek, he was rewarded with a shadow of a smile. Locking gazes with the boy, his expression became serious, although the warmth from his heart still shone in his eyes and never left his timbre. "Now you listen to me, boy. You're gonna be just fine, you hear? Surgery went real well. You done good, kid. Real good."

Surgery? Now JD was really confused. Had he been operated on already? Didn’t he just get to the hospital? Hell, he could only hope the operation was over and done with already, but surely he’d remember getting prepped for it. Regretfully he realized that he simply must’ve misunderstood his roommate – wishful thinking and all.

With Buck sounding so confident in his recovery though, JD didn't really have the option of not believing he’d be okay. But that didn't mean he still wasn't petrified. Operations weren’t any fun – the kid knew that much. And Buck’s confidence didn't mean that JD didn't know he was still in for a world of hurt when the anesthetic wore off.

He'd always been able to see past the bullshit, see the agony they'd try to conceal from him those awful times his friends had been shot. He vividly remembered the shock and the horror, witnessing his heroes trying so valiantly to bite back their pain and keep it at bay and – seemingly just as important to them all – hide it from him. But their eyes always gave them away. Visions of actual tears forcing their way out of even Chris Larabee’s eyes each and every time he'd made a wrong move or breathed just a little too deeply assaulted JD’s memory. Only Vin and he had been spared that kind of agony. Until now. Now it was JD’s turn.

JD knew with morbid clarity exactly what he was in for. And manhood be damned, he desperately did not want to go through it all by himself. Damn Chris. He promised me.

Even though he couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything more than for Buck to stay with him right then and there, realistically the kid knew that Buck would have to go. So, to make it easier on himself, and to make it easier on Buck, who he knew would be feeling guiltier than hell, JD made the first move. . .

"’S’okay if. . .ya gotta. . .leave."

What? The whispered words threw Buck completely off guard. Was that what had the kid so upset? Was that what his tear-filled eyes were trying to hide?

It exasperated Wilmington to no end that even after all this time, JD still had the stubborn tendency to fight against showing Buck any vulnerability or weakness. Oh, he understood it was practically instinctive, the built-in reflex mechanism of a very young man trying to prove himself in the world of much bigger and much older men. Still, JD should oughtta know by now that aside from giving him cause to get frustrated with his roommate every once in a while, brave fronts didn’t mean a lick to Buck Wilmington.

No, what mattered to Buck was honesty – plain and true. And in all honesty, Buck knew JD wanted him to stay.

But why was him staying even an issue in the first place? Of course Buck was staying. Of all things, JD had to have clued into that by now. Christ, why on earth wouldn’t he stay?

And why was the older man so damn certain he could see desperation, along with the expected fear and pain, in the stubborn kid’s eyes?

Aw, hell! The answer hit him like a ton of bricks. Poor kid was afraid Buck had to go back to court. Sure, that made sense. JD probably figured the team’d yanked him right out of court the minute they’d hit the road, which is exactly what they shoulda done – an issue he and Chris definitely had yet to discuss – come to think of it.

‘Course if they had done that, and Buck had left the courthouse midway through his testimony, he likely woulda been subpoenaed by that prima donna Jamieson so fast, he’d’ve either wound up back in court by mornin’ or wound up in jail for contempt by then.

Well, neither of those things had happened, thank God. Buck Wilmington had done his sworn duty, even if it had been at the kid’s expense. But now he had all the time in the world. All the time in the world to give to JD.

Buck Wilmington was here for the duration.

Buck looked down into the weary face of the hurt kid before him and realized that JD was fading fast, the anesthetic about ready to claim him once again. The agent shook his head, in part to force himself from his reverie, but also in anger for wasting precious time daydreaming instead of offering the kid the reassurance he so desperately needed. Gently cupping his palms against each of his too-warm cheeks, he scarcely whispered the boy’s name.

JD could feel himself sinking back into unconsciousness and fervently wished Buck would just let him be. He really didn’t want to be awake when Buck had to leave – didn’t want to face that reality at all, let alone see it happen. Still, even with blood loss, heavy-duty drugs and a bullet in his chest doing their best to send him into oblivion, ignoring Buck Wilmington was damn near impossible.

"Mm hmm," he murmured. It was the best he could offer under the circumstances.

"C’mon, boy. Jus’ stay with me. I know you’re tired, but you gotta hear me out for two more seconds, all right?"

Buck smiled grimly at the kid’s sigh of resignation. He knew the boy was hanging on just for him and as much as that thought filled him with shame, it warmed his heart just the same.

As the familiar flutter of ebony gave way to hazel once again, Buck spoke quickly, knowing his time was running out. "I ain’t goin’ anywhere, JD."

The kid blinked. "Huh?"

Buck couldn’t stifle his laugh. "You heard me, boy. I’m all done testifying, so it looks like you’re stuck with me. . .okay?"

"Fi’shed?" JD’s confusion and exhaustion had reduced his ability to express himself to doing so only one word at a time – barely.

"Done like dinner, sport."

JD was incredulous. "Gonna. . .here. . .after surg’ry?"

This time it was Buck’s turn to be confused, just for a moment. Shit, the kid was so utterly oblivious he didn’t even realize he’d already had that god-awful operation. The big man watched as the boy’s eyes fell shut again and his chest began the slow and steady rise and fall of sleep. Damn, he wasn’t through with him yet.

"C’mon, JD. Look at me, kid."

The kid responded obediently, instinctively – the urgency in his best friend’s tone having penetrated the haze. Squinting up at the source of that gentle demand, he tried to figure out the odd expression worn by the older man. It was half-serious, half-humorous, the latter being much like the face Buck wore whenever he had some juicy gossip to divulge about Vin or Ezra. But what could possibly be so damn funny right now?

"Bu – ck?"

Wilmington didn’t waste any time answering. "JD. . .surgery’s over, boy. You made it, kid. . . You done real good."

The kid watched in silent wonder as matching tears formed and then trailed along each side of Buck’s face, framing the bright grin he wore. The big man held JD’s hand in both of his now, had even drawn it up against his own tired face. And, although the kid could sense Buck was still awful worried about him, he couldn’t deny the influence and the comfort and strength flowing into him from that mighty powerful grip. And that made JD smile.

He still found it hard to believe the surgery was past him but knew with all certainty that Buck wouldn’t lie to him about that. Relief flooded the kid’s soul and settled into his bones. Sleep couldn’t elude him any longer, and he didn’t resist as he felt its pull and allowed himself to be swallowed up by his pillow and the bed.

As the heavy fog penetrated his mind again, he found the strength to peer up at his best friend once more, searching for any indication that Buck might actually have to leave. Thankful he found nothing but conviction and familiar devotion, still, the fear and dread of not knowing what he had yet to endure – but certainty that it was gonna hurt like hell – and his profound desire not to have to go it alone, compelled the kid to ask the million dollar question.

"Gonna b’here. . .wh'. . .when I wake up?"

Buck tried to hide his exasperation. "I ain’t goin’ nowhere, JD."

"Swear?" The kid breathed.

JD felt Buck let go with one hand and, blinking his eyes open, the kid almost laughed as he watched his best friend raise his right hand and then draw their still entwined hands towards his chest.

Tightly holding the hand of the boy he adored against his heart, Buck repeated the solemn oath he’d taken so much earlier in the day. "So help me God, kid."

"So help me God."

It was just after seven a.m. when Chris Larabee stepped out of the elevator onto the all too familiar grey/blue linoleum of the ICU wing of Mercy General's third floor. God, he wished he wasn't so damn familiar with the layout of this place.

Roughly scrubbing a hand through still wet hair, Chris refused to allow his grim thoughts to take him to the dark places he still struggled on occasion to avoid. He was a hell of a lot better now, his memories of Sarah and Adam usually making him smile rather than eliciting the enemies – hatred, rage and despair – of old. And he knew he owed much of his better outlook on life to the five men and one kid who had innocently filled the void his late wife and son had left behind.

When one of them was seriously hurt though, and Chris was forced to revisit overpowering emotions such as grief, helplessness, guilt and anger, it was a little too easy for the team leader to fall back into the deep dark well of despair he'd wallowed in for almost three years.

The discovery of their youngest, seemingly lifeless in Ezra's arms, while an ever-increasing pool of blood practically dwarfed them both, definitely qualified as one of those occasions inspiring yet another trip deep down into the emotional well that was Chris Larabee’s soul.

But. . .that was four days ago.

Get over it, Larabee. Today's gonna be a good day. Abruptly he shoved aside his morbid thoughts and their accompanying negative attitude and focused on the reason for his visit. If the kid’s check-up went as well as expected this morning, JD's doctors were going to give him the green light to transfer out of ICU into a private room. Thank God.

Though still in more pain than any of JD's friends could bear to watch him suffer, the kid's recovery was progressing well ahead of schedule. His boss smiled at that fact. No surprises there. Since when did JD Dunne ever take his time doing anything? The graft was holding, his fever was negligible and he was beginning to heal with no signs of infection at all.

What was it that Buck had said, with blue eyes sparkling and chest puffed up like a damn peacock? Typical over-achiever? Chris smiled at the memory. Yeah, the kid sure is.

For Chris Larabee though – ever thankful that his oldest friend hadn't been the one to discover JD and Ezra as he had, nor have to relive the horrific image in his dreams each night – JD’s imminent recovery was something else entirely.

It was a f*cking miracle.

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JD was seriously beginning to reconsider just why he’d been looking forward to this day. Or even waking up for that matter. The concept of finally being unplugged from all those tubes and monitors literally tying him down to his hospital bed was damn enticing, but the lack of pain meds normally found flowing through those tubes – deemed a necessary evil so that his doctors could properly assess his condition this morning – sure didn’t seem like all that swell an idea at the moment.

He’d been in the hospital four days now and would still wake up with a start each time he didn’t see his bedroom walls or the tell-tale reminder of his first New Year’s Eve celebrated without the guys. . .the still fading champagne stain on the ceiling above his bed at home.

He just hated hospitals though, a little hang-up Josiah figured – and JD couldn’t dispute – that had a hell of a lot to do with the too-long, but not long enough, vigil spent next to his mama’s bed before he finally lost her. So, no matter how doped up he’d be or no matter the fact that Buck rarely left him alone in one, he’d still wake up with a jolt every time he was in a hospital or make some other wrong damn move he’d end up regretting instantaneously.

So why should this time be any different?

He was barely awake and he could already feel the fire generating from deep within his chest and the white hot ripples coursing up and down his leg and arm in wave after wave of agony. Shit, that really, really hurt.

Hell, JD still couldn’t quite comprehend why they’d had to cut into his upper arm in the first place. Yeah, he understood that they needed a graft from his leg to fix the damage the bullet had caused. That made sense, but he still didn’t quite fathom how the bullet that hit him so unbelievably hard in the chest had done its real damage elsewhere, further along the artery. Oh, they’d showed him the arteriogram, but to JD it looked more like some bizarre big city cloverleaf than it did the inside of his arm, let alone a pseudoaneurysm or whatever the hell it was they’d called the blob in the middle of the freeway.

Whatever the term, it hurt like hell and, the more complete consciousness encroached, the more excruciating the flames igniting from within his wounds became.

He knew he was damn close to severing his lower lip in two, but the kid still clamped down tight against the cry his body so desperately wanted to release. He really didn’t want to wake up screaming and sure as hell didn’t think his roommate needed to start the day with that kind of fright.

His entire body tensed of its own accord against the vicious spasms, and JD stubbornly rode them out without uttering a single sound.

Finally, as the relentless waves subsided and his straining muscles relaxed their rigid hold, a breathless sigh parted the youth’s lips, scarcely breaking the silence. Tightly clenched eyelids followed suit, easing open and releasing tears of pain, frustration and relief as JD instinctively sought out his best friend, secure in the knowledge that Buck would be right there.

Blurry eyes glimpsed toward the cot the team had supplied specifically for his keeper. Despite the ebbing pain lingering in the shadows that reminded him not to make any more wrong moves, the kid simply had to smile as he looked away from the empty cot and shifted his gaze to his own bed and the unruly mass of dark hair brushing against his arm.

The kid winced at the awkward angle his best friend’s neck had found. Heck, if Buck kept up this business of sleeping in that chair, he’d wind up so hunched-over, JD might just be able to look the big guy in the eye by the time he got out of the hospital.

Just thinking about the six-foot-three Wilmington all scrunched over to equal his own five-eight frame, made the kid want to laugh – not exactly the best plan when he was hurting this bad. Still, the ridiculous thought refused to relinquish its hold on his overactive imagination, making him so damn near giddy JD couldn’t help but wonder if he was as delirious as he’d been back in the warehouse with Ezra or if maybe he did still have some mighty potent drugs pumping through his veins?

Either way, he could feel a full-fledged laugh trying to work its way out from his belly and no amount of writhing – with as little movement as possible – tensing or grimacing, was gonna be able to prevent its inevitable emergence.

The fact that Buck hadn’t yet stirred, though clearly a sign of just how exhausted the big man was, was even greater testimony to the undeniable fact that JD was truly getting better. That Buck was sleeping this soundly gave the kid more confidence in his own imminent recovery than anything the doctors could ever say or do to convince him of the fact.

But that didn’t mean JD still couldn’t really use a hand at the moment.

"Buck?" The kid grimaced, in part because he really was hurting and also because his voice barely squeaked out his best friend’s name.

No response. . .damnit.

"Buck!" He actually managed some volume this time, and yet still no reaction from the big man.

"So much for the great protector," JD whispered, succeeding only in making more laughter want to bubble out of his throat.

More than a little taken aback by the realization of just how worn out Buck had to be to sleep through his kid brother calling out to him while lying there damn near helpless in a hospital bed, JD felt a momentary surge of sympathy and fraternal protectiveness overcome him.

The key word was momentary.

"OWW!!!" Buck Wilmington roared.

"Jesus, JD! Whatcha go ‘n do that for!?" The big man stood in utter disbelief – not that he had much choice in the matter, uncertain as to exactly where the chair he’d been finally sleeping soundly in had suddenly disappeared to – alternately rubbing the kink in his neck along with the soon-to-be forming welt on his shoulder where his bedridden baby brother had just up and punched him. Punched him for Christ’s sake! And while he was sleeping, no less. Ungrateful little s.o.b.

The utter look of bewilderment on his best friend’s face – complete with lower jaw seemingly frozen in a wide open gape – along with a serious case of bed head resulting in one side of Buck’s wayward black hair nearly standing on end, finally drove JD beyond the point of control.

When the eruption of laughter finally came, so did the accompanying agony, but the kid was at a loss, and truthfully of no mind, to actually try to control it. Hell, he’d felt so awful for days now and this was the first morning that he actually felt like he was really gonna make it. . .despite the incessant pain. The relief in knowing that both the doctors and Buck felt he was okay enough to leave unattended – that Buck was willing to sleep through his vigil and the doctors were considering moving him out of ICU today – confirmed his own beliefs and filled the kid with even greater hope and reassurance.

‘Course the possibility of ripping his stitches open again if he didn’t soon stop laughing so damn hard was not lost on the kid, either. Only problem was, that irony simply made JD want to laugh even harder.

But that’s where Buck came in. As soon as the first belly-sized laugh shook JD’s small frame, Buck had hold of him. Despite the lingering stupor of waking up from the shock, not to mention impact, of one hell of a good shot to the arm, Buck had been quick to act.

He wouldn’t deny his initial confusion in discovering the kid he’d been so damn worried about laughing so hard he was actually crying, shedding more tears now than since the whole damn ordeal had begun come to think of it. But he couldn’t deny the relief and joy that swelled his own heart and brought a dumb-ass grin to his own face, just seeing the kid with some color in those boyish cheeks and wearing an honest-to-goodness smile on his face.

Having carefully eased one strong arm behind JD’s neck, he draped his other across the kid’s chest, to keep the boy steady and to keep him from jostling his stitches around, but trying not to hold on so tight that he’d hurt his injuries any further.

As Buck listened to the kid’s laughter, intermingled as it was with colorful curses whose origins – the big man noted with a mixture of pride and embarrassment – were completely obvious, he began his own steady litany of comfort. . .

If you called terms such as ‘jack-ass’, ‘pig-headed mule’ and ‘not having the good sense God gave a gnat’ comfort.

JD did.

Despite the stubborn pride that usually ruled the kid’s actions, JD willingly gave in to Buck’s hold, tightly gripping one hand around the arm draped across him and bracing his head against the other behind him, helping him ride out the pain while he concentrated on the inane litany of familiar words, phrases and terms of endearment that no one other than Buck Wilmington could ever get away with calling him.

As the tension in JD’s body diminished, Buck carefully eased his arm from behind the boy’s head, pausing briefly to earn a welcome glare from tousling the kid’s hair and wiping the remaining tears from beneath JD’s eyes – eyes which held more clarity than he’d seen in four days, thank God – before brushing away any traces of the tears betraying his concerns from the corners of his own eyes.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah," the kid sighed. "Thanks, Buck."

"So, you think you wanna let ole Buck in on what was so damn funny?" he asked, completely ignoring JD’s misplaced gratitude.

Buck’s voice was soft, but laced with such humor JD had to quickly avert his eyes and bite down on his already abused bottom lip to avoid a repeat of his last excruciating performance. "Uh. . .nothin’. . ."

In spite of the fact that the kid’s voice was still too damn weak for his liking, Buck couldn’t miss the higher pitch that was used whenever his roommate was trying to keep something from him. This was one ATF agent who – thankfully – did not have a hope in hell of undercover work being in his future.

"You call givin’ your best friend a heart attack – the same best friend, I might add, who’s gonna make good on his promise to go with you to that computer nerd show in Springfield next month instead ‘a goin’ to the game with the rest of the boys – and punchin’ him, JD. PUNCHIN’ him awake. You call that NOTHIN’?!

The kid blushed crimson and tried to have the decency to look abashed. "’M sorry," he murmured, his apology not entirely convincing since he couldn’t quite wipe off the stupid grin he still wore on his weary face.

"Oh, you’re sorry, all right. Least ways you’re gonna be. . ."

Buck let the threat hang, knowing every bit as well as JD did, that his threats – at least those aimed at the bedridden kid before him – held about as much weight as a feather on the wind.

Same elevator, same linoleum – five too many damn long hours later. Chris Larabee was back again to check on Buck and JD, knowing full well that the two of them would be well beyond antsy by now if JD hadn’t been moved out of ICU yet.

He’d arrived earlier that morning just in time to watch JD’s face fall almost as far as Buck’s had, while ICU nurse Trisha Karleski had explained to them both that JD’s doctor was currently prepping for emergency surgery and wouldn’t be able to look the kid over until after he’d completed the operation. . .the complicated and undoubtedly time-consuming operation.

Chris would’ve liked to have stayed to wait it out with them, but since no one could tell him how long the delay would be and since duty did call, he'd promised his agents that he would come back and check up on them at lunch. Ezra and the others had wanted to join him, but Larabee had told his team to be hold off, at least until evening. He didn’t want to see the kid overtaxed. . .another good reason for Chris not to have stayed with him, come to think of it.

Along with the obvious disappointment of having to wait for the doctor, Chris had caught the flashes of pain reflected in those big hazel eyes. The boy’s face had broken into a tired smile when his boss walked into the room, but that boss was observant enough – as an agent, or perhaps more relevant in this case, as a parent – not to be fooled, and to recognize the blotchy cheeks and puffy red eyes of a kid who’d shed some tears only a short time earlier.

He knew that JD’d been weaned off his pain medication overnight and he figured the longer the boy had to wait to see the doctor, the more pain he’d be in. The last thing JD needed was to have to channel any of his limited strength into acting like he was all right, especially when he wasn’t. Hell, Chris knew how hard that was on a body. It was bad enough knowing that JD would put on the damn mask for him, Larabee sure as hell wasn’t going to let the kid wear himself out pretending in front of the other guys. Stoic might be part of their job descriptions, but it sure as hell didn’t have to be part of JD’s. Not that Chris could ever get that through to the stubborn, prideful kid.

At least with Buck there, Chris knew the boy would get the support and TLC he needed. His old friend would often bitch that JD’d clam up on him too, even when he was really hurting. But the truth of the matter was that eventually JD would let down his guard for his best friend – which was a damn sight better for them both and certainly more than the rest of the team could claim.

It was obvious to Larabee that something had happened that morning that had given JD cause to let down his guard. And he had no doubt that that something had been pain. Hell, even if Chris hadn’t seen it in the kid’s expressive face, he could easily read it in his old friend’s eyes. No matter his concern, whatever had happened wasn’t really any of Chris Larabee’s business, and besides, it looked to him like Buck had handled it just fine. . .like he always did.

Despite the setback of JD’s check-up being delayed, and the evidence of the tears that had been recently shed, both Buck and JD had looked contented somehow. . .at peace. In fact, both of them looked a hell of a lot better than they had in days.

And that meant things were going to get better for the whole team.

Especially once they got the kid out of ICU.

Having discovered an empty bed in the ICU when he’d first arrived at the hospital, Chris now paused outside Room 507, relieved to have finally located his missing agents, but suddenly unwilling to intrude upon them.

He had a million reasons to enter, the least of which was getting rid of the fifty pounds of elaborate gift basket filling his arms and preventing him from obtaining the potent Mercy General caffeine he’d been really looking forward to. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to infringe on the private moment unfolding before him.

Strangely enough though, he couldn’t really bring himself to look away either.

From the doorway, Chris couldn’t actually tell if JD was sleeping but, judging from the fact that he was tolerating the affectionate and almost rhythmic stroke of Buck's hand on his head, the team leader felt pretty confident in assuming the kid had to be out like a light.

Chris found himself leaning against the doorjamb as he continued to take in the heartwarming scene. It was true, watching his old friend at his most unguarded made Chris’ heart feel lighter, but at the same time he couldn’t deny how his gut lurched at the memories the scene evoked.

As mesmerized as he was with his charge and, with his back to the open doorway, Buck wouldn’t know Chris or anyone else was there watching him, but that obviously wasn’t important. What was important – as always – was the kid he was sitting on the bed next to.

Although Chris couldn’t get a clear view of his two agents, he knew without a doubt exactly what position his old friend had found. Buck would have one of his impossibly long legs tucked under him upon the mattress, with the other still touching the floor. His right arm was angled across the kid’s ribcage, just as expected, supporting the big man's weight and providing a protective shelter for the two of them, safe from any intrusion from the outside world.

The scene was so hauntingly familiar to Chris, having witnessed it countless times before, but with a beaming Sarah wrapped in his arms as he did so – watching as Uncle Buck put Adam to bed and then sat with him until long after the boy had fallen asleep. Hell, the image seemed so completely natural, it wouldn’t have surprised Chris in the slightest if Buck tenderly pulled JD up into a big ole bear hug, right then and there.

But that of course, wasn’t about to happen. JD was too hurt and likely would’ve come up swinging anyway, if Buck had tried a move like that. . .a thought that immediately brought a slight smile to the leader’s lips.

Still, it was at moments like this when Chris realized how much more than kid brother JD was to Buck Wilmington. And it was moments like these when he realized just how very much Buck had loved Adam.

"You plannin' on holdin' that wall up all day?"

Buck Wilmington's quiet question and the hint of amusement within it, broke Chris from his bittersweet reverie. Larabee shook his head, berating himself for ever considering for a minute that Buck wouldn't know exactly what was going on behind his back, especially while sporting the protective hackles he reserved exclusively for JD.

Damn. And Wilmington was just about the only person left on the planet who could still manage to find a way to embarrass the ATF leader too. Mind you, Chris realized he only had himself to blame for the touch of blush now coloring his cheeks. He'd been caught, effectively eavesdropping on a very private moment for Buck, an act that would have been wholly unforgivable in Chris' eyes, had their roles been reversed.

And yet Buck didn't even bat an eye at his old friend's indiscretion – a fact that mortified Chris even further. Leave it to Buck to make Chris feel ashamed for feeling ashamed.

That was Buck, though. Whether he was in paternal or fraternal mode, the man wore his affection for JD on his sleeve and didn't care if the whole damn world knew about it. Hell, about the only thing keeping him from driving around with one of those corny 'my kid made the honor roll' bumper stickers on his Chevy was the fact that JD had graduated from high school before the two of them had met.

Lucky for JD.

Larabee smiled at that thought. JD was damn lucky, and Buck — in spite of the torment the rest of Team 7 dished out – really wasn't all that bad. Oh yeah, Wilmington could hover, but usually with just cause. The fact of the matter was that he had a hell of a lot of respect for his kid brother, undoubtedly more than even JD realized, which is why he never compromised the young agent's authority, or his maturity, when push actually came to shove.

But Buck also had the uncanny ability to know exactly when JD needed big brother or dad to surface, as well. Even when the kid was sleeping.

Part 6

Chris realized with steadily increasing humility that he’d been standing there gawking at Buck ever since the man had startled him from his trip down memory lane and yet he’d still managed to promptly fall back into a trance. Shit, I must be more tired than I thought.

Realizing he’d better say or do something before Buck made some smart-ass comment about old age or narcolepsy, Chris began to walk into the room.

"’Bout time you quit yer woolgathering ‘n came on in. You know they say that’s an early sign of senility, pard." Chris lowered his head and shook it, defeated. He had to laugh. Yup, he could always count on Buck.

"That from the boys?" Buck quietly asked, nodding towards the lavish basket in Chris’ arms, as he hastily got up from the bed and cleared a space for it on the bedside table.

Setting his burden down, Chris shook his head. "Nah, Ezra’s putting together something even bigger. The boys’ll bring it over tonight." Chris’ words brought softness and a smile to Buck’s face, but the older of the two men noted, not for the first time since JD’d been hurt, just how totally wrung out his good friend looked. He knew no amount of cajoling would get Buck to rest. Yet. JD’d only just been moved out of ICU after all, and Buck wouldn’t settle until he was certain the kid’s body handled the adjustment okay.

Larabee knew that Buck would finally relinquish his duty tonight, when the others were around to take over for him and then he could use that damn cot they’d brought over for him. Until then, there was no point in arguing the matter, so Chris returned his attention to the basket. "Apparently this got here just before I did, so the nurses asked me to bring it down for them. Don’t know who it’s from, but. . ." Chris slipped his hand in his inside jacket pocket and fished out an envelope. Handing it to his friend, he continued, "Whoever it is, left this for you."

"Me?" Wilmington raised an eyebrow in surprise, recovering immediately however with one of his all-too-familiar references to animal magnetism, all the while wondering who on earth would send him a card while it was JD who was laid up in the hospital.

Absently tearing the envelope open, Buck looked up in time to note with some sense of warped gratification the equally curious look on his old friend’s face.

"Well I’ll be damned. . ." The big man muttered under his breath and Larabee couldn’t help but be intrigued by the odd mixture of wonder and – was that satisfaction? – written all over Buck’s face.

Any thoughts towards the identity of the author of the note in question were immediately quelled however by the low, mournful moan escaping the lips of the wounded kid lying in the hospital bed next to them.

"Aw, damn," Buck whispered as he slid the card into his jeans pocket.

"What is it?" Chris was confused, expecting Buck to be pleased that JD was waking up.

Wilmington turned despondent eyes to his friend. "He shouldn’t be wakin’ up yet, Chris. They only just pumped him full of heavy-duty painkillers not ten minutes before you got here."

"You mean in five hours they never gave him anything?" Larabee kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the semi-conscious youth.

"Not even a goddamn local." Buck couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice any more than Chris had, but he abruptly raised his hand to halt the verbal onslaught he could see brewing within Chris’ eyes. "Ain’t all their fault, pard. Damn stubborn fool made his own choice."

What?! The question hadn’t found its way from Larabee’s mind to his lips before Buck continued his story. "Naw, they gave him a choice. . .take his meds and wait until tomorrow to get checked over, or—"

"Tough it out until the doc finished his surgery," Larabee interrupted, knowing full well what Buck had yet to say. Even without looking at the kid’s pale face, etched as it still was with the tell-tale signs of the suffering he’d endured, Larabee knew which option JD Dunne had chosen. Damn fool stubborn little shit had more grit than you’d find at a John Wayne film festival. No wonder his mentor looked so dragged-out tired. Damn.

Buck’s confirmation was halted by another plaintive moan from JD, shredding the big man’s battered heart into ever smaller pieces. Instinctively his hand sought the kid’s, but to his surprise Chris already had the boy’s hand firmly in his own grasp.

Swallowing the combination of pride and gratitude that had suddenly solidified in his throat, Buck placed his hand on JD’s brow, but locked gazes with his old friend. The expression Chris wore was full of warmth and compassion, a far cry from the icy emotionless green Wilmington had regretfully grown accustomed to in recent years.

It was a damn fine sight to behold.

If only it would last.

It had been a long time since Chris had looked into Buck’s eyes and seen a reflection of himself. Too damn long, he realized. But why did it always have to be pain and grief that they shared – even after all this time?

Chris knew that JD’s incoherent murmurs and moans were searing Buck’s heart. He knew because they were doing a pretty good imitation of the same thing to Chris’ soul – what was left of it.

Watching that unruly mop of black hair toss and turn on the stark white pillow, listening to the occasional mournful cries parting JD’s lips, and simply watching that too young face grimace in drug-induced confusion and barely masked pain was more than Chris could tolerate.

The memories were getting easier, but it was one thing to stand back and fondly remember your best friend tucking your boy in at night, it was another thing altogether to watch the kid who reminds you so much of what was – and what could have been – suffering needlessly. No, that was something he just couldn’t take.

Buck watched, heavyhearted but not surprised in the least, as the impenetrable shield that he knew all-too-well as Chris Larabee’s main defense effectively slammed shut, breaking off his connection with his old friend. Wilmington could only watch as Chris’ eyes grew distant once more and his grip on JD’s hand slackened.

He’d known the light in Chris’ eyes wouldn’t last and, despite how disheartening it could be to witness, Buck refused to give in to any despair. Because each time he caught a glimpse of the old Chris Larabee, he latched onto a glimmer of hope that the old friend he once knew, and once held as close to his heart as JD, was still there, just under the surface ready to emerge again some day.

And until that time Buck would do as always – be patient, accommodate Chris’ needs and moods, and be there to throw him a life-line whenever he needed one – like now. "Say, Chris?"

"Hmm?" Still struggling with his churning emotions, Chris was grateful for the distraction Buck’s question provided him.

Replacing the hand Chris had just released from around JD’s wrist with his own, Buck smiled warmly at his old friend, his expression revealing none of his concern for the older man. "You know, if this boy’s gonna wake up on me again, I think I could really use a refuel before goin’ another round with him," he chuckled convincingly. "You willin’ to go get us some coffee?"

Larabee stifled the sigh that would betray his relief. Yeah, he could do that. He really needed some air anyway, plus the coffee down in the cafeteria was a hell of a lot better than the vending machine crude sold on the hospital floors, at any rate. Besides, even though he knew JD would be glad to see him, Chris also knew the kid was better off waking up to only Buck first, and that was reason enough right there to leave the two of them alone for a bit.

But he’d be back right away.

Clapping his hand on Buck’s arm, he spoke, "Sure, Buck. I’ll go get us some."

Buck returned his friend’s grasp and held the man’s gaze with his own. "Thanks, Chris." For being there. For JD – when I couldn’t be, for him now and for me – Thanks.

Buck never could hide his feelings for very long, if at all, and Chris understood the unspoken meaning and depth of his gratitude. Damned if Buck hadn’t managed to make him feel uncomfortable again. That was good ole Buck, though. . .always finding the human side of you, even when you weren’t sure it still existed. Chris couldn’t shake the slight smile that parted his lips as he looked at his old friend and then to the kid who’d settled at the big man's gentle touch.

"Any time, Buck. Any time."

As Buck watched Chris’ retreating form disappear through the doorway, a bittersweet warmth settled in his soul. Remnants of the old Chris Larabee were still there and, in typical Wilmington fashion, he’d revel in the little victories, rather than dwell on the losses.

Movement beneath his palm and the whisper-soft music of a waking sigh drew the agent’s attention to another victory. . .none greater in his life.

Squeezing the kid’s hand to ensure that JD knew who he was waking up to, Buck couldn’t prevent a smile from splitting his haggard features as he felt JD fumble with the simple task of returning his grasp and watched as heavy, dark lashes struggled to reveal the foggy hazel eyes beneath them.

"He. . .y." The slight smile the kid wore, once his bleary eyes had confirmed his guardian’s presence, was immediately replaced with a frown as JD wondered how his mouth could garble something as easy to say as the word ‘hey’. Was ‘hey’ even a word? And why was Buck wearing that smirking dumb-ass grin of his, anyway?

On both his faces. Aw, damn.

"Hey there, sport." JD looked all of sixteen whenever he was in bed – that mop of unruly long hair strewn every which way across his pillow with at least one uncooperative black strand always taking up permanent residence in either of his eyes – but get him drunk, or in this case stoned, and Wilmington could easily subtract another few years from that equation.

No matter the math, Buck couldn’t resist the pull on his heart, and promptly ruffled the kid’s hair with the utmost affection. The anticipated reaction by JD nearly sent Buck over the edge into laughter, but his sympathy and deep respect for the young man beneath his touch held him in check. . .even if JD, especially in the shape he was in, couldn’t successfully rival the bone-chilling Chris Larabee-style glare he knew the kid was so desperately aiming for, any more than a Muppet could.

JD knew he was fighting a losing battle. He’d have about as much success intimidating Buck with a squirt gun as he would with his best glare, so he might as well just give up. Besides, Buck was soon gonna herniate himself or something if he kept trying to hold in his laughter like that. JD couldn’t resist and just had to smile too.

"Here you go, kid."

"Thanks." Accepting the sip of water his best friend now offered him, the kid slowly let his mind wade through the morphine-induced residue still clogging his brain. He knew he wanted to ask Buck a question. What was it? Oh, yeah. "Didn’ I hear Chris?"

The mixture of frustration and bewilderment plastered on the boy’s face was priceless. Buck could tell JD was getting damn annoyed that his mouth wasn’t working up to snuff, but that was okay, even high the kid was easier to understand than Ezra half the time. "S’okay, kid, you weren’t dreamin’. Chris is roundin’ up some coffee for him ‘n me and then he’s comin’ right back."

The look of relief and sheer delight that crossed the kid’s pale features brought renewed warmth back into Wilmington’s soul. He knew every time Chris came to see JD it gave the boy a lift – Chris too, not that he’d ever admit it, mind you – even if he’d likely have to remind his roommate the next time he awoke that his boss had actually shown up to visit him. Lord knew, after having been manhandled so painfully during those tests and then given that shot, the kid wouldn’t remember a hell of a lot of anything from the day. Thank God.

JD was beginning to fade already and was therefore far from his talkative self, but Buck knew the kid would want to hold on until Chris returned. Lightly patting the boy’s cheek, Buck settled into the chair beside JD’s bed, a new one he quickly realized his butt would have to break in all over again. Damn, he was just getting comfortable in the old one. Wonder if I could get Chris to rustle up that other one for me?

JD watched sleepily as his best friend settled into his place in the chair next to him. Holding up the drink still in his grip, Buck offered JD more water. The young agent shook his head ‘no’, nearly losing the battle to keep his eyelids from gluing shut. The boy stubbornly forced them open once more and caught sight of Buck returning the plastic water cup to the bedside table, where his attention was immediately drawn to the extravagant gift-basket placed there as well. "Wow – f’ me?"

"No, kid. For me," Wilmington dead-panned, earning an exasperated eye-roll from the bed-ridden youth. He laughed heartily, still amazed after all this time at how much spunk the kid exuded, even when he was barely conscious. "All right, it’s for you, kid. You wanna open it ‘n see what’s all in there?"

JD shook his head, knowing he didn’t have the stamina to even unwrap the cellophane, let alone rummage through its contents. "Later, ‘kay?" He did however want to know who it was from. "The guys?"

"Nah, are you kidding?" Buck grinned and winked at the kid. "Chris says they’ve got somethin’ even bigger for ya."

JD’s eyes widened at that comment, and Buck couldn’t help but laugh. He’d been spending so much time here at the hospital, the guys hadn’t consulted him on what all to get the kid, so he truly had no idea what was coming. But, with Ezra’s and Vin’s opposite tastes in just about everything, and Josiah and Nathan in between, the big man had no doubt that the kid would get a blast out of whatever was coming his way. Wilmington could count on his partners to treat their youngest well. After all, JD had become their kid brother, too. "The boys are bringin’ somethin’ by tonight after work, after you rest up some more, that is."

JD chose to ignore Buck’s rather blatant hint that he should give in to the sleep calling to him. Hell, he knew he wasn’t going to hold out much longer anyway. He also knew he could count on Buck to wake him when Chris returned, because Buck would know that’s what he wanted. Still, he couldn’t go to sleep until he found out who on earth had sent him that really neat basket. "Well?"

"Well what?" Buck was enjoying this.

And so was JD. "C’mon, who’s it from?" The kid laughed.

Buck rubbed his hands together in an overly exaggerated display of glee. "Well, now. Let’s just see. . ." Plucking the small gift card off of the wrapping, Buck purposely kept it out of JD’s attempted reach and slowly slid the little card out of its envelope.

JD gave up. He doubted he could read the damn thing anyway, since his eyes were determined to tell him there was still two of everything in his room. Besides, Buck’s antics were just what the doctor ordered as far as JD was concerned. The kid felt pretty damn good, considering. . .

Carefully crossing his arms over his chest, he feigned disgust and impatience and waited expectantly for Buck to read aloud the handwritten card.

"Who?" The utterly bewildered look on the kid’s face was Buck’s first clue that JD didn’t have the foggiest idea who Pam Jamieson was. He couldn’t really blame the kid. After all, the courtroom testimony did seem like a lifetime ago. Still, unless JD remembered her, tormenting him about this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

"The lawyer, kid."

"Huh?"

"Okay, stay with me now. . ." Buck spoke slowly, knowing full well he’d get a rise out of the kid if he kept it up.

"Pam-e-la Jam-i-son. You know. . .the lady lawyer who cross-examined you in court the other day. You remember? The one who’s scarier than Chris," the big man laughed and then sobered a moment, remembering the boy’s innocent concern for him the morning before everything went straight to hell.

JD had drawn a complete blank, until Buck – in as irritating Wilmington fashion as possible – reminded him who Pamela Jamieson was. But Pam? And why the hell would she give a damn about someone who testified against her client anyway?

And why was Buck wearing that smug look on his face? Hell, he looked like Ed McMahon had just handed him a big check. Either that or someone had just complimented his Chevy.

Unless. . .

"She didn’?!"

"Oh, yes she did!"

JD couldn’t believe it. He knew damn well his best friend had spent damn near every waking moment – hell, every breathing moment – at his bedside since he’d been hurt. When in the hell did he have time to score that lawyer’s phone number? He looked skeptically at the big man, knowing the instant he opened his mouth that he’d regret ever doubting him. But still, he had to ask. "Prove’t."

Buck beamed and then with a flourish pulled out another small card, this time from his back pocket, and began waving it in front of JD's bleary eyes. The kid successfully snatched it from him and immediately, albeit with considerably more effort than usual, began to read in silence, not yet trusting his mouth to translate what his brain was registering:

JD looked at the card in utter amazement. Buck had done it. . .again! Maybe there really was something to this animal magnetism crock after all?

Looking up at his best friend he was surprised to see that Buck wasn’t wearing the self-satisfied smirk that JD not only expected, but felt he richly deserved. Hell, he’d milk this for all it was worth if their roles had been reversed.

Instead, Buck’s dark blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears and the expression he now wore was full of warmth and affection. More than a little unnerved, JD looked at the card again, hoping it would shed some light on his roommate’s sudden shift in emotion.

Still confused, JD looked up into Buck’s expressive face for the answer.

". . .the sun came up again. . .?"

"It sure did, son. It sure did."

The End

(July 19, 2000)

Happy Birthday, Penny and Andy!!

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