UNTITLED ATF

All things considered, the rescue really hadn’t taken such a bad turn Ezra thought; at least they were all still alive and somewhat in one piece. Buck had a concussion from the explosion and Chris left with him; Vin and Josiah had pursued and probably already caught the escaping kidnappers. Now all he and Nathan had to do was keep an eye on J.D. until the second ambulance arrived.

Easier said than done. When they’d burst through the door, Ezra noticed J.D. seemed to be moving under his own power and assumed he didn’t need immediate attention in the midst of the ensuing chaos. Now that he finally got a good look at the young man, Ezra realized he had been wrong.

J.D. stood against the far wall, his face bruised, his clothes dirty and half-torn from his body, but Ezra was arrested by the boy’s eyes. Chills ran the length of Standish’s backbone at the kid’s rapid deterioration and the feral, caged look that inhabited his normally compassionate eyes. None of them had any way of knowing exactly what the young man had gone through since he’d been abducted, but right now Ezra would have bet on hell to be an easier trip.

J.D. had pressed himself into the wall, his face deathly pale and his entire body wracked with uncontrollable trembling. Ezra stepped toward him slowly, careful not to make any bold moves. J.D. pushed farther back into the corner, his eyes wide and frantic obviously searching for an escape route between the men.

"J.D. – its Nathan and Ezra." Standish knew something was very wrong, even more than the fright or shock at being held prisoner in this hellhole. A dull film glazed the kid’s dilated eyes and he seemed ready to explode from every fiber of his body. Ezra realized J.D. was not only terrified, but also drugged out of his head and he doubted the young agent recognized either him or Nathan as friends.

"J.D., we ain’t gonna hurt you, son." Nathan’s steady voice did nothing to alleviate the panic in the young man’s huge dark eyes.

"Back off!" J.D. shouted and stepped forward for a brief second before losing his bravado and retreating back into the safety of the corner.

Nathan never took his sights off J.D. as he eased closer, his steps so minute that at first Ezra hadn’t noticed he was even moving. He’d let Nathan make the advances and he’d stand and hope like hell J.D. didn’t make a run for it. Ezra wasn’t afraid of what the kid might do to him, but rather afraid of what effect being restrained might have on the already paranoid agent.

He tried not to think about what horrors J.D.’s captors had delighted in inflicting on the young man, and from the kid’s haggard appearance it was clear he had been put through more than anyone deserved. Ezra seethed at the sight of J.D. wheezing from fear and wished he could do something to ease the boy’s pain.

"Son, listen to me. You need to let us help you." Nathan reached out his hand to touch J.D.’s arm and the kid yelled and launched himself from his hiding place. Ezra prayed he wouldn’t miss as he lunged for the fleeing youth and caught J.D. in mid-flight, wrapping his arms tightly around the kid’s torso.

J.D. screamed in pure terror and began to fight like a cornered bobcat, and Ezra narrowly missed having his manhood forever altered by the kid’s pumping knee. Nathan was there in a split second and between them they pinned J.D. to the floor, both uttering soothing words to try and calm him, but to no avail. J.D. was panting hard, out of breath, yet he continued to fight as if his life depended on it.

Ezra gave up trying to talk to him and just held on, hoping to keep his own body intact in the process. J.D.’s movements slowed as exhaustion began to overtake him; his screams weakening into distraught whimpers.

Ezra heard Nathan’s normally level voice rise as he tried desperately to get through to the panicked young man. J.D. went limp, but he was afraid to loosen his grip.

"Settle down, it’s all right, I promise ya it’s all right." Nathan held J.D.’s face between his hands and tried to get those bleary eyes to focus on him. J.D. closed them instead, tears streaming down the side of his head.

Ezra wasn’t sure what J.D. was referring to, but he had an idea he thought they were going to hurt him. Poor kid looked like he’d already been used as a punching bag and as he looked more closely, Ezra noticed for the first time the blood on J.D.’s neck that trailed from a darkening bruise.

Bastards. The visual evidence confirmed what he already knew - they’d drugged the kid and Ezra had no doubt that the wound on J.D.’s neck was a needle mark. Damn bastards.

"No one’s going to hurt you, J.D." Ezra’s words were tight in his throat as he struggled to control his growing rage at the men who had put his friend through this. "We came to take you back home."

Much to Ezra’s surprise J.D. opened his eyes and looked into his face. "Ezra?" The young man seemed to finally recognize him and Standish grinned widely.

J.D. stopped fighting, but began to tremble again, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. "I killed Buck."

Ezra and Nathan exchanged puzzled looks, wondering how on earth J.D. could have imagined such an occurrence.

"No, J.D. Buck’s got a concussion, but he’s gonna be fine." Nathan spoke up and ran his hand through the kid’s dirty hair in an effort to keep him calm.

"No! I stabbed him, oh God, I killed him!" J.D. tried to get up, but Ezra quickly placed a hand on his chest and stopped his ascent.

"It was only a nightmare, young man, I assure you that our gregarious friend is quite alive."

Ezra breathed a sigh of relief as the EMTs finally rushed through the door and he let himself relax a bit. J.D. would be in good hands now.

*******

Buck came to in the ambulance and cursed Chris Larabee for all he was worth. How dare he let them take him out of there before he could find out if J.D. was all right?

He tried to shake the memory of the bald kidnapper holding the kid’s head tight against his chest in a mocking embrace as he brutally thrust that long needle into J.D.’s neck. He hadn’t been able to see his friend’s face, but the violent tremors and the shocked whimper that rolled through J.D.’s small frame explained exactly how much pain and fear were etched on the young man’s features.

Buck shook with renewed rage at the helplessness and anger of watching that sadistic bastard hurt his friend. Vivid memories of trying to subdue J.D. before the kid could gut him with that damn pickax Baldie had put in his hand made Buck queasy with worry. J.D. hadn’t been his friend at that moment; he wasn’t anyone’s friend. The boy didn’t have a clue what he was doing; he had been simply running on survival instincts. A terrified rabbit trying to get the upper hand on what he perceived as the big bad wolf.

Buck watched as the paramedic smiled down at him, told him he was doing fine. No shit. He knew that already. He'd managed to avoid J.D.'s clumsy attempts to slice him open, but the little explosion Baldie had so graciously provided had knocked Buck flat on his ass and apparently split the side of his thick skull hard enough to knock him cold. Now if he only knew where the hell J.D. was.

Confusion bounced mercilessly in his aching head. Surely Chris had to have shown up. Otherwise how did he get in an ambulance? He’d still be there on the cold floor, probably with J.D. carving up his ribs already by the looks of things before he passed out. Buck closed his eyes and tried to stop the onslaught of visions that replayed in his fuzzy mind.

"Just hang on, Buck. We’ll be there soon." Chris’ voice pulled him back toward reality and his eyes flew open.

Buck turned his head as far as the pain and the brace around his neck would allow, seeking out his friend. "Where’s J.D.?"

Chris leaned into Buck’s line of sight and smiled. "He’s ok, I told Nathan and Ezra to look after him ‘til the second ambulance got there."

Buck tried to shake his head, but the paramedic put a firm hand on his forehead. "Stay still, Mr. Wilmington."

Buck stared at Chris with pleading eyes. "No. No, he’s not ok."

Chris frowned and cocked his head. "He seemed fine."

"No, he was drugged." Buck fought the drowsiness threatening to overtake him; he needed to make Chris understand. "Damnit, Chris, he tried to kill me!"

"Nathan and Ezra are with him, if he’s sick they’ll take care of him ‘til the ambulance gets there. You can’t do nothing right now, Buck, so just settle down."

Even in his confused state, Buck could still read the worry in his old friend’s eyes. He had no doubt that Chris was just trying to ease his mind dread pulled at Buck’s heart. He worried for J.D., but also for his other friends, who had no earthly idea what they were up against.

*******

Confusion nagged at J.D. and he wasn’t sure if the words he’d heard were actually true or just another lie. He’d been lied to continuously since he’d been brought here and just because these men looked and acted like Nathan and Ezra, didn’t necessarily mean it was really them. God, how did everything get so screwed up?

He remembered being grabbed and dragged into a car. He remembered struggling to get away from the men who held him until they beat him so bad he couldn’t fight back anymore. J.D. couldn’t remember much more after that except constant pain, chaos, terror…and needles.

J.D. tried to get up again, but strong arms kept him pinned to the ground and panic began to flood his senses. They were going to stick him with that damn needle again!

He’d fought those men when they’d first brought him here, then a friendly, sincere voice had convinced J.D. that he was on his side. The man said he knew Buck and would take care of him until Chris and the others found him. J.D. had felt so terrible and been so bewildered that he’d believed him. Desperately wanted to believe him, so much that J.D. had given in and actually allowed them to give him that first shot. God, he hated himself for being so stupid! What kind of idiot was he? But the man had promised to help him. The voice had promised it wouldn’t hurt, but it did. It hurt a lot.

J.D.’s thoughts bounced around inside his dazed skull and he tried to figure out what he needed to do right now. These men sounded like his friends, but they told him Buck was all right, and J.D. knew that was a lie. Of course they always told him he would be all right too. They would tell him that they weren’t going to hurt him again and then they’d shove that hot needle in his back or his ribs or his neck and it would hurt so bad he couldn’t stop screaming.

Then the confusion would start all over again, the horrific visions so intense that he could never really tell where the nightmares ended and reality began. His bones would ache unmercifully and his stomach would flip and he’d vomit until he had nothing left and still continue to dry heave until he passed out. They kept promising they wouldn’t do it again, but they did. Each time the hallucinations stretched and grew into unconquerable monsters and the pain intensified. J.D. had stopped listening to their lies and fought back with the little strength he had left. They might kill him, but he wouldn’t give in voluntarily again.

Of course, they’d always win. Always let him wear himself out before they held him down on the bed or on the floor or against the wall and drive that sharp needle into him and then stand back and watch.

And laugh.

J.D. would hold in his tears, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry; waiting until they’d left him alone to unleash his grief. He was scared they might actually kill him; and just as frightened that he found himself wishing they would go ahead and finish him off so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the torture one more time.

Now, he heard the comforting words again. He cursed silently for letting himself be fooled this time, after so many other times he’d been deceived, but his mind refused to make any sense of what was happening.

New voices, clever voices that sounded like his friends, they even looked liked Nathan and Ezra and if he hadn’t known better he would have believed it. But here they were, telling him they were going to take care of him, that he’d be ok.

Another big fat lie.

Buck was dead and his friends weren’t coming. He had to get himself out of this place and he had to do it now.

"Just take it easy, son." God, it sounded like Nathan but he knew it wasn’t.

Two others joined the first ones and they all hovered over him. J.D.’s heart slapped against his breastbone so hard he could feel his body vibrate. He had to get away, had to go, before it was too late.

J.D.’s mind raced as fast as his heart as he gathered the courage to flee. Then he saw it and he knew his time had almost passed. A needle. The man held the needle again and J.D. knew what was coming. Burning, sticky agony that soaked into his bones and thrust him into a world of blinding torment. No, not again. They’d have to kill him this time because he wasn’t going through that ever again.

J.D. gathered up every ounce of strength left in his body and kicked the offending instrument. His foot landed squarely on the man’s chest, shoving the enemy off his feet and propelling him backwards. Away from his tormentors and a few steps closer to freedom.

Screaming in rage and stark horror, J.D. struggled to get to his feet, but his limbs wobbled weakly beneath him and he staggered backwards before catching himself on the wall.

"Don’t!" J.D. yelled as he saw the man who said he was Nathan start toward him. He was trying so hard to sound tough, hopefully dangerous, but he knew he wasn’t projecting that image. J.D. was a weak and bewildered mess and he knew it. His only hope was to bluff long enough to get outside and pray they wouldn’t follow.

"J.D." Nathan called to him and kept coming.

Damn it! J.D. couldn’t fight them all, not like this. He had to run, but he could barely stand up, much less find the exit and now the one who said he was Ezra was closing in on him too.

"Get away from me!" J.D. held onto the wall and worked his way around to what looked like a door, but the whole idea of how to work the knob perplexed him. His hands shook as he gripped the handle, his sweat-slick palms unable to get enough traction to make the bolt turn.

J.D. could see the shadows as they closed in, surrounding him. He felt the pressure inside his chest build until he thought his body would explode, but he refused to give up. God, he would die if he had to go through that again. Please, not again.

*******

"Son, let us help you." Nathan knew J.D. was in bad shape and it worried him that the boy was beyond panic. Sweat poured from the young man’s face and his lips quivered, but his eyes were what frightened Jackson the most. Vacant, uncomprehending and animalistic fright filled those wide eyes and Nathan worried what long-term effects the drugs he had surely been subjected to would do to the poor kid.

J.D. worked the doorknob harder, hysteria making his moves jerky and ineffective. Low moans of frustration escaped with each labored breath and Nathan wondered if the boy might suffer a massive coronary before they could get him calmed down. He’d never seen J.D. so terrified.

"J.D., listen to me." He held up his hands, hoping J.D. would be coherent enough to realize who he was and let him approach.

"Sir, we can handle this, just tell us what he’s taken."

Nathan heard the EMT at his shoulder, but never took his eyes off J.D. "We have no idea what he was given. We’re gonna have to restrain him or he’s going to hurt himself and likely all of us in the process."

Nathan saw the other paramedic circling around to the other side of where J.D. stood and Ezra motioned her back. "Let us try first."

It was a statement, not a request and the woman stopped.

"Terri, bring the Reeves." The man stayed where he was as she quietly slipped back outside.

J.D. continued to fumble with the door until it finally clicked open, then Ezra took a step toward him.

The kid swung around to the other side of the door and yanked it shut behind him. Ezra pulled it back open and J.D. gasped as he tried to run, but his legs were too weak to carry him and he hit the floor hard. Nathan followed Ezra and they were both on the ground next to the young man in an instant.

J.D. howled. Pain and terror echoed through the stark hall as the kid screamed and tried in vain to dislodge the grip each of the men had on his flailing limbs.

"No, please." He shook his head violently and his voice cracked with strain. "Not again."

"J.D., look at me." Nathan took one hand and pulled J.D.’s face around to meet his. "Look at me, you know me. You know I’d never hurt you, son."

"Liar! You’re all liars!" J.D. writhed beneath their hold and Nathan wanted to cry. Just break down and bawl like a baby at the desperation in his friend’s voice and in his own heart.

The drugs were no doubt the cause of most of his paranoia, but Nathan also had no doubt J.D. had been subjected to a great deal of mental torture as well. His captors were damn good at breaking agents much more seasoned and hardened than J.D. would ever be. Nathan shook with fury at the thought of them taking such pleasure in hurting someone like that.

The female paramedic returned and all four of them spent the next few harrowing minutes trying to secure J.D. to the stretcher. Nathan was thankful for the swift expertise of the rescue workers as they lifted the young agent and deposited him quickly into the litter, cinching the straps tight around his legs and torso, pulling him deep into the cupped sides of the stretcher until he looked like he’d been encased in a giant cocoon.

"Noooooo!" J.D. yelled as they continued to fasten the restraints, his body now held down too tightly for him to thrash around. "Please, don’t!" J.D. half cried, half threatened, his spirit sagging as he realized he was totally helpless to their whims.

Nathan saw the young man mentally relent, all the fight draining away. As much as Nathan hated to see J.D. struggle against them, this had to be worse. He was giving up, withdrawing right in front of him and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

My God, what did they do to him?

Nathan watched as the medics taped J.D.’s arm down onto a splint and inserted an IV. J.D. didn’t move or whimper, but the terror in his eyes shone bright as a trail of tears rolled into the darkness of his hairline.

He desperately wished he could say something to comfort the young agent. Nathan wanted to lean in and tell him he’d be all right, yet anything he’d said so far had only served to make the kid worse. So Jackson just did what had to be done and kept his place while the paramedics finished pulling the restraints taut against J.D.’s shoulders and he struggled to keep some sort of grip on his own emotions.

Nathan glanced up at Ezra as he knelt on one knee next to their young friend’s shoulder, his normally flowered speech replaced with a steady litany of encouragement as he talked to J.D. Nathan figured Standish either didn’t want to give up in case something might get through or that he was just totally unsure of what else to do. For whatever faults Ezra might display on a daily basis, Jackson certainly couldn’t deny the man’s ever-present loyalty to his friends.

*******

Chris steadily worked on wearing a pathway in the shiny linoleum in front of Denver General’s spacious waiting room. He had literally forced Buck into the ER with the promise of letting him see J.D. as soon as he finished being examined. Larabee wasn’t sure he would even be allowed to keep that promise, but truth was, he needed to know the kid would be all right as much as Buck did right now. Chris had been floored by Buck’s revelation that J.D. had tried to kill him and desperately hoped that the conk on the head had simply altered his friend’s perception of what had really happened.

Then his worry had turned into full-blown fear when Nathan and Ezra relayed their experience with the young agent. Guilt gnawed at his gut; if only he’d had J.D. wear a wire, if only he’d had three backup agents, not two, if only, if only. Chris rubbed the grit from his eyes with his palm, knowing that self-doubt was the first step to buying himself a fishing boat, retiring to a quiet coastal village and getting the hell away from this job. Still, he couldn’t control the lingering sensation that this could have all been avoided if he’d just thought it through more carefully. Protected his men a little better.

"Mr. Wilmington, you look appalling."

Ezra’s voice cut into Chris’s thoughts and he turned around to see the big man shuffling sluggishly toward them, his fingers slowly rebuttoning his shirt as he took careful, deliberate steps. He smirked slightly at Ezra’s comment and nodded toward his friends, trying desperately to mask the pain Chris recognized all too well. Not just the physical hurting, Buck was much too tough to let a concussion keep him down for long, yet he was much too tender-hearted to overcome the spiritual ache of seeing his friends hurt. Buck’s pain was for J.D.

"Ok, I did what you said, now I wanna see him." Buck stopped inches from Chris, determination and stubbornness shining in his glassy eyes and Larabee knew there’d be no backing down from this one.

"We’re still waiting for the doctor to finish checkin’ him out. They’re supposed to let us know when they know something."

"Ain’t you supposed to be restin’?" Nathan pounced from the other side like a mother tiger, successfully backing Buck into the waiting seat behind him.

Buck rolled his eyes in disgust then flinched from the effort. "Later, Nathan. Where’s Vin and Josiah? They’re all right ain’t they?"

"Yeah, they’re fine, just cleaning up the mess we made."

Buck nodded and began massaging his temples with his fingers. "Just one to go."

*******

"Gentlemen. I’m Dr. Gleason."

Buck looked up, his head swimming from the slight movement. He felt Chris’s hand on his shoulder keeping him in his seat as the doctor introduced himself.

"How is he?" Buck stood slowly, successfully shaking off his friend’s supportive hand and standing face to face with the middle-aged physician.

"Please, sit down, I have to explain a few things." Buck’s vision tunneled as a bolt of fear stabbed at his chest and he held his breath. Please just don’t tell me I’m gonna lose him, because I can’t. Not now. Not ever.

"First off, let me assure you, I do expect your friend to recover."

"He’s severely dehydrated and we’re giving him fluids to correct that. He’s suffered a mild head trauma, as well as severe contusions to his ribs and abdomen." Dr. Gleason looked to each man as he spoke, but his eyes came to rest on Buck. "I also found several stun gun burns around his torso and needle marks low on his belly and sides."

Buck’s momentary wave of relief shattered at the horror he knew J.D. must have suffered. "And his neck." Buck didn’t realize he’d vocalized his thoughts until Dr. Gleason nodded.

"They were keeping him drugged, probably from the first day he was taken. We know that’s the cause of his hallucinations and paranoia, but the problem is we don’t know exactly what he was being injected with and can’t treat him effectively until we do. His blood tests are due back from the lab within the hour and as soon as we know what he was given, then we’ll be able to keep him sedated until the negative effects of the drugs wear off."

Buck felt as if he’d been gut punched. He basically knew all of this already, but something about the stark reality of it all hit home when someone else actually said it.

"Is he in any pain?" Nathan asked.

"We haven’t been able to give him anything for pain, again, as soon as we find out exactly what’s in his system we will take care of that too. Right now I’m more worried about his mental state. We had to restrain him during the exam, despite his injuries he continued to fight us every step of the way."

"He was just scared." Buck hung his head, the memories of J.D. in the hands of his kidnapper still vivid in his mind.

"We tried to take that into account, Agent Wilmington, it’s not something I normally do if I can avoid it."

Buck understood. He’d seen that fear and paranoia turned against him; heaven knows the fight J.D. put up with a team of doctors and nurses trying to poke and prod him.

"Can I see him?" Buck looked up into Dr. Gleason’s face, knowing the desperation that shone in his own eyes. "Please."

The doctor nodded and smiled. "You can sit with him a bit, might be just what he needs."

*******

Sometimes it’s hard to remember when it was exactly that you latched onto somebody. When they became as much a part of your life as if you’d grown up as family, fighting over the last piece of chocolate cake, skipping school to go fishing; boys thick as thieves and closer than brothers. Buck couldn’t pinpoint exactly when J.D. moved in to occupy that empty space in his heart he’d craved to fill his whole life. A half-grown kid with more than a slight need for someone to pull in the reins on his wild and foolhardy ways. Buck hadn’t really meant for that someone to be him. He’d tried to give up those kinds of attachments the day Adam Larabee died. Wilmington had still sought out the pleasures in life, but he pushed aside the desire to be anyone’s husband, father or best friend.

Then JD showed up.

It wasn’t a conscious choice, that’s for sure, and Buck spent many a night wondering just how in heaven's name he’d grown so affixed to a cocky, bull-headed rookie who spent more than half his time knee deep in trouble because he was trying his damnedest to prove he could fill a man’s shoes. Family was the only reason Buck could think of. His mother taught him early that family didn’t have to consist of blood ties or marriage vows. It existed in the heart, in the people you loved and loved you in return. Like J.D. The boy had been family since the day he pushed and shoved his way onto Team Seven whether Buck would have admitted it or not.

Buck sighed. Boy. He mulled the word over in his mind, knowing that in reality JD wasn’t a boy any more than he was his boy. Still, it seemed natural to think of him as both.

Buck took a steadying breath as his gaze rested on the raised numbers outside J.D.’s room, mentally double-checking its accuracy before barging in. He remained vaguely aware of the steady pounding in his temples, his physical pain forgotten as his heart seized inside his chest at the sight that greeted him. J.D.’s head jerked toward him, the boy’s eyes glazed and watery with fear and a hopelessness he’d never seen in his young friend’s face. Not ever.

"Hey, kid." Buck whispered softly, afraid he’d spook J.D.; afraid his voice would crack if he said any more. It took every ounce of self-control Buck had to approach the bed slowly, when all he wanted to do was rush to his best friend’s side and let him know he’d keep him safe now. That J.D. had his friends here, and no one would ever hurt him again. Buck desperately wanted it to be that simple, wanted J.D. to see his face and realize this nightmare was over.

J.D. followed Buck’s every movement with distrusting eyes, his breathing becoming more labored as the older agent got closer. Buck felt the sting of tears as he realized just how much J.D. had been made to suffer through. Anger bubbled deep within his heart at what those perverts had done to his friend…his brother.

J.D. struggled weakly and Buck noticed the straps encircling his wrists. He knew the kid had been restrained for his own safety, yet the sight nauseated him. How dare they, after all J.D.’d been through, how could they tie him up like that? Buck took a deep breath and swallowed hard, then gently lay his hand on J.D.’s arm. He felt the young man flinch and he quickly pulled away. There was too much at stake right now for his own need to comfort to overshadow J.D.’s need to feel safe. Buck knew he had to play things just right in order to take away the fear that was killing them both.

"J.D., it’s Buck." Wilmington forced a smile and without consciously thinking, he grabbed the bed railing.

J.D. let out a sharp yelp as he pushed himself to the opposite side of the bed as far as the restraints would allow. God, it hurt bad enough to see J.D. in such pain, but to think he’d caused one minute of it ripped at his soul.

"I’m sorry, son." Buck sank into the chair beside the hospital bed and leaned forward enough to keep eye contact. "Please, don’t be afraid of me, J.D. We all been lookin’ for ya. I promise not a minute went by that we weren’t tryin’ to get ya back." Buck let the words flow, hoping his sincerity would win out over J.D.’s chemically induced paranoia.

"Liar." The word escaped in a breathless sigh and J.D. stared at him in mock defiance.

The accusation took Buck by surprise, hurt him to the bone, despite the knowledge that J.D.’s reactions were from the drugs coursing through his system. He shouldn’t take it personally. Couldn’t let it stop him from trying to reach J.D.

Buck shook his head. "No, son, I’d never lie to you about something like that. You know ole Buck better ‘n that."

"You’re not Buck." J.D. spat back, his eyes narrowing and his face contorting in misery as he strained to move even farther away.

The realization hit Buck like a freight train. Even though J.D. continued to stare straight at him, the young agent failed to believe what his brain told him he saw. Buck remembered the doctor mentioning ‘paranoia and hallucinations,’ but Buck had hoped just his presence could erase what had been done to the boy; bring him back to his senses. Obviously Buck’s presence had only pushed J.D. further into his own private hell.

"Course I am." Buck tried to smile; tried so hard his face hurt, but he couldn’t seem to make his lips stop trembling long enough to cooperate. All he wanted right now was to reassure J.D. that he was looking into the face of his best friend.

"Why, who else’d know that you sometimes get in such a hurry that you’d leave the house with your T-shirt on backwards or wrong-side out if I wasn’t there to laugh at your silly ass? Or that you always, and I mean always leave your clothes in the dryer for at least three days before I make you put them away. How many times have I told you the dryer is not an iron and a dresser all in one convenient appliance?"

Buck could almost see the gears churning inside J.D.’s head, trying to sort and file what he was being told. A flicker of recognition shone in the kid’s eyes and Buck slowly stood from his chair and leaned on the bed rail. "Or that you have a nasty habit of waiting until I’m in the middle of my shower before flushing the downstairs toilet when you’re pissed off at me. Didn’t think I’d figured that one out did ya?"

Buck carefully reached for the strap that held J.D.’s right hand taut and gently pulled the end through the buckle and released the kid’s hand. Buck figured he had to show a little trust before he could expect J.D. to. Buck licked his lips and swallowed, trying to alleviate the dryness that threatened to choke him. He really hoped he was doing the right thing, because this could certainly turn out to be a huge mistake.

"Oh, what about that damn tattoo you were gonna get after about 15 too many beers at the Saloon? Who else but your best friend would tell you having Eric Cartman’s likeness on your backside would be a sentence to permanent celibacy?"

The kid didn’t move at all as Wilmington unfastened the second restraint, he just continued to stare up at him, J.D.’s eyes misting over with some hint of recollection. Buck let his hand gently rest on J.D.’s chest and the older agent expelled a long sigh of relief when he didn’t oppose or recoil from his touch.

"It was my hip."

J.D.’s soft words exploded in Buck’s brain as if they’d been launched there by a rocket.

"What?" Buck leaned in closer, hoping it hadn’t just been wishful thinking that made him hear the kid speak to him.

"It was gonna be on my hip…not my backside." Tears streamed silently from the kid’s eyes, recognition replacing the confusion and fear.

Buck smiled. A face splitting, genuine ear to ear grin that couldn’t be contained no matter how much he might have tried. Buck laughed softly as he cupped his hand over the top of J.D.’s head and gently ruffled the boy’s hair. "Same difference, kid."

Caught up in his own happiness, Buck didn’t notice the nurse standing beside him until he saw the apprehension in J.D.’s eyes and felt the young agent’s muscles tense beneath his palm. She looked disapprovingly at the unbuckled restraints but held her tongue.

"Dr. Gleason said to tell you the test results were back and that he’s ordered a sedative and painkillers for the patient." The young nurse almost whispered to Buck, obviously thinking he was the boy’s father and that he needed the information more than J.D. did.

Buck almost told her what she could do with her sedative, but he knew J.D. had been through hell, not only in the hands of his captors, but here too. Poor kid needed whatever reprieve he could get and Buck trusted Dr. Gleason’s judgment enough to give in and nod his approval.

The nurse drew up the injection, oblivious to the panic Buck witnessed spreading in J.D.’s eyes.

"Buck, please, no." J.D. begged, his voice hoarse and weak, but his fear evident.

"J.D., listen to me. I’m right here this time, ain’t nobody gonna hurt you, ok?"

J.D. opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He simply stared at the nurse approaching him with the syringe. "No."

Buck took J.D.’s face in his hands and forced the young man to look at him. "Do you trust me?"

J.D. gasped air in and out, desperately trying to keep his hysteria under control, but didn’t answer.

"J.D.!" Buck shouted to gain his attention, but immediately softened the tone. "Tell me, son, do you trust me?"

J.D.’s terror shone like a beacon in a stormy sea. Buck smoothed back the kid’s sweaty hair and smiled at him, trying to impose a strength he didn’t feel into the scared soul in his hands. "Just trust me."

The kid nodded, but shut his eyes tight and stiffened, his jaw clenched so tight it made Buck’s teeth hurt. The nurse must have realized J.D.’s apprehension and quickly injected the medication into the IV tubing.

Buck felt J.D.’s body relent to the drugs, his rigid muscles relaxing and melting into the comfort of the bed. "That’s it, son, just sleep. I promise things’ll look a lot better in the morning."

"Thanks, Buck." The words slurred from exhausted lips, but they were the most glorious sound the agent had heard in the last three days.

"No, thank you, kid. Thank you for not giving up…on either of us."

- fin -

Comments

RETURN HOME