Buck Wilmington stood in the door and watched as the people around Chris began setting up new equipment next to his bed. He noticed  a pump much like an IV

pump and wondered what it was for. “What are you doing to him now?” he asked furiously as he hurried to his friend’s side.

 

“Easy, Buck,” Midland soothed as the angry man stood next to the bed. “We’re just giving him some nutritional supplements. We’re going to start giving him

Isosource through the NG tube.”

 

Buck watched as she placed something in a plastic container and inserted the attached tubing into the pump. He watched as she set a rate and then attached more

tubing to the NG tube in his friend’s nostril.

 

Buck Wilmington was a strong man but the look of fear and pain on his oldest friend’s face made him sick to his stomach. The last time he’d seen this look on Chris

Larabee’s face was when he’d been told his family was gone from him forever. The single tear that fell from the blond’s closed eyes made him swallow the lump

forming in his throat. ‘Cut him a break, will ya?’ he thought as he looked out the window.

 

“Angie, I’ve set it at twenty-five ccs per hour. Keep an eye on him and let me know if there are any problems,” Midland told the nurse.

 

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse agreed.

 

“I’ll let you know when his new room is ready, Angie. I’m going to check on it now,” Locke explained as she followed Midland from the room.

 

“Ok, Carol,” the blonde nurse answered as she checked the settings on the new equipment.

 

Buck stepped up to the head of the bed, carefully keeping out of the nurse’s way. “Hey, Stud, you wanna talk?”

 

Larabee opened his eyes, unable to resist the call of his old friend. A man who’d stuck with him through bad times as well as the good. This was a man he could be

open with. A man who would do anything for him. “Tell them to leave me a...alone, Buck,” he pleaded, his voice sounding tired and defeated to Wilmington’s ears.

 

“They’re only trying to help you, Chris.”

 

“I d...don’t want their help. D...don’t want a...anybody’s help. J...just want to be l...left a...alone.”

 

“You don’t mean that, Pard,” Wilmington pleaded, watching James write things in a chart out of the corner of his eye.

 

“H...how do you know w...what I m...mean, Buck?” Larabee hissed softly. “No one k...knows w...what I n...need but me.”

 

“Then why don’t you tell us what you need and we’ll see if we can get it for you?” the moustached man suggested. He watched his friend’s face once more turn away

from him. “Come on, Chris, look at me,” he begged.

 

“I can’t, Buck, I l...look at you and all I s...see is Sarah and Adam and w...what I d...did to t...them.”

 

Wilmington was going speak but a signal from Susan James told him to remain silent.

 

“Vin,” the blond’s body tensed as he spoke the name, “was r...right to p...punish me. I k...killed them j...just as I kill e...everyone I love. S...stay away f...from me,

B...Buck. I’ll o...only h...hurt you,” Larabee’s saddened voice cut threw the hearts of everyone in the room including the steadfast psychiatrist.

 

Wilmington looked at the Susan James, anger written on his face as he mouthed. “Why’d you let him go on like that?”

 

James shook her head and signaled for Wilmington to continue.

 

Wilmington stared down at the pale figure on the bed. Speaking softly while holding his emotions in check. “We’ve been friends a long time, Chris. You’re no

murderer and you certainly didn’t hurt Sarah and Adam.”

 

“M...murdered my f...family. My l...little boy, my Sarah. Oh, God, why?” he cried as pain laced through his mind and body. He fought the oncoming spasms but was

unable to stop them. He cried out as his body once more arched on the bed causing his wounds to protest loudly.

 

“Five Mgs Haldol, Angie,” James ordered as she approached the bed. “Hang on, Chris, we’re giving you something to make it stop,” she assured him as the nurse

did as she instructed.

 

Larabee’s jaw clenched tightly as he tried to ride out the pain caused by his body’s spasms. ‘I deserve this for what I’ve done,’ he thought as he dropped back

onto the bed. He felt a cool cloth pressed to his head and tried to move away from the small display of comfort. A hand on his cheek stopped him and he looked up

into the eyes of his oldest friend. Once more a single tear escaped his eye before he closed them in an effort to be rid of the sadness and pain he saw mirrored in

those eyes.

 

Buck Wilmington was angry at Susan James and he wanted desperately to let her know it. He followed her out of his friend’s room before grabbing her arm. “Why

the hell did you let him do that?” he yelled.

 

“Let’s go in here so we don’t disturb the patients shall we?”

 

Buck followed her inside and let the door slam loudly. “Why did you let him do that to himself?” he snarled.

 

“Chris needs to get his feelings out in the open and you’re the first person he’s responded to in days. Usually he just tells whoever’s around to leave him alone. What

he said in there tells me that he really does need to be watched carefully in order to prevent him from hurting himself further,” James explained calmly.

 

Wilmington’s face changed from anger to worry as he remembered the conversation they’d had with the medic. “Nathan told us about the suicide watch. Do you

think it’s really necessary?”

 

“Now more than  ever,” James told him. “He’s extremely depressed and is easily agitated.”

 

“Then let us watch him,” Wilmington pleaded.

 

“We discussed this with Nathan. Hospital policy won’t let you gentlemen be responsible for a patient.”

 

Buck bristled angrily, “Hospital policy doesn’t concern us. What does concern us is Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. Right now Chris needs us, Doc, he needs us

more than he needs some damn sitter.”

 

“You’ll be allowed to sit with him during normal visiting hours, Mr. Wilmington, but the sitter will also be there. I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

 

“Dammit Chris doesn’t deserve this. He loved Sarah and Adam more than anything,” he swore angrily. “Now because of Whelan and Wilcox it’s been taken away

from him and replaced with guilt. Please tell me we’ll get Chris back,” he begged.

 

“With the help of his friends I think we’ll be able to bring him back. The first thing we need to do is get him wanting to live again. One of the things I’ll want the rest of

you to do is try and treat him as if nothing’s changed. When we move him to the new room I’d like you to bring in some personal objects of his.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Does he have any favorite music, books, pictures, but make sure you don’t bring in any of his family right away. We’ll need to give him a chance to adjust before we

start bringing his family into it.”

 

“I can get all those things, Doc,” Wilmington told her.

 

“It would also be a good idea to bring in daily papers and maybe even rent the TV for him. Getting him involved in day to day life is one of our first priorities. Simple

things like getting him to make decisions is another thing that’ll help him.”

 

“Sounds like we’re gonna have a battle on our hands!”

 

“We are and we have to win that battle if we want Chris back,” she told him.

 

“That’s one fight we’ll win no matter what we have to do, Doc,” Wilmington said confidently.

 

“That’s the attitude we need, Mr. Wilmington. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a meeting to attend.”

 

“I’ll go sit with Chris for a while,” Wilmington told her as he followed her from the conference room.

 

Chapter 44

 

“Anything new with, Chris, Ez?” Tanner asked as he opened his eyes.

 

“Mr. Larabee is being transported to his new residence just down the corridor as we speak,” Standish explained.

 

“Is he alright?”

 

“As alright as anyone can be after the atrocities he underwent,” Standish bit his lip as he realized he’d said too much. “I apologize for running off at the mouth, Mr.

Tanner. I do believe I’ve become rather cynical in my speech lately.”

 

“It’s ok, Ez, I saw what they did to Chris. Can’t say that I blame you for being Cynical,” Tanner told him.

 

“Looks like your lunch has arrived, Mr. Tanner,” Standish observed as an orderly brought in a tray and placed it on the table.

 

“Very good lunch. You eat it all and I’ll be back for the tray,” the orderly said as he hurried out the door.

 

 “He’s in a bit of a hurry,” Tanner said, unable to stop the smile that touched his pale face.

 

“I would say that’s an understatement if there ever was one,” Standish smiled as he lifted the lid off one of the dishes. Nodding his head he met the other man’s eyes.

“I think I’ll find somewhere else to partake of sustenance.”

 

“Take me with you, please,” Tanner begged as he picked up a spoon and tried the thick white pasty stew.

 

“I’m afraid your physicians would not allow me to do such a thing.”

 

“Have a heart, Ez. Taste this stuff. Tastes like the old paste they made at the orphanage out of flour and water.”

 

“That good?” Standish asked, his eyebrows lifting sarcastically. He was rewarded when the injured man suddenly laughed out right. ‘That’s the sound I wanted to

hear,’ he thought as he settled back to watch Tanner force the food down.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chris had no interest in his new surroundings. He kept his eyes closed as his bed was unhooked from the walls and pushed from one room to another. He knew

they’d been on the elevator but refused to ask where they were going. He felt the elevator lurch to a stop and heard the doors open.

 

“Carol, we’ve got Chris Larabee here.”

 

Carol Locke hurried towards the bed and looked down at her new patient. “Hello, Chris,” she said, not really expecting an answer back. “Let’s get you settled in

your room. Three sixteen,” she told the orderly as she took the chart and passed it to the nurse at the desk. She held one side of the bed and helped steer it towards

the private room across from the main nursing station.

 

He felt the bed moving again and finally opened his eyes. The bright lights above his head caused him to clench them tightly against the pain assaulting his head. He felt

people watching him even with his eyes closed. He hated being watched even when people didn’t realize they were doing so.

 

“Here we are, Chris,” Locke said as they entered the room.

 

Larabee once more opened his eyes as the bed was moved up against the wall. The room was done in a very light green color with matching curtains covering the

tiny window. The overhead light was on and the brightness hurt his eyes. He heard the nurse telling the orderly what to do and he kept his eyes averted as they

reconnected some of the plugs to the wall.

 

“Chris, Dr. Midland is on her way. She’s going to take out this central line,” Locke said as she checked his IV lines. She kept talking to him as she checked each of

the tubes he was attached to including the foley catheter and the Isosource pump.

 

Chris gave no indication that he heard her except when she checked the foley. It was one of the most intimate tubes and he hated it. Keeping his eyes closed he

turned away from the cheerfulness of her voice.

 

“Hello, Chris, Carol.”

 

“Hello, Dr. Midland. Dr. Parker. I was just giving Chris the good news about getting rid of the central line.”

 

“Was he happy with the news?” Midland asked.

 

“You know it’s really hard to tell. I thought I’d be able to read such a handsome face but I can’t get a handle on him. I must be losing my touch,” Locke laughed as

she continued to make her patient comfortable, raising his head so he could look around the room without opening the wounds on his neck.

 

“You? Say it ain’t so, Carol. We thought you were our resident mind reader,” Parker offered, noting there was no reaction to the light-hearted banter from the

patient.

 

“I’ll work on getting that distinction back, Dr. Parker,” Locke promised as she finished making notes on the chart she held.

 

“Ok, Chris, let’s get this line out of you,” Midland said. She watched the blond man closely but there was still little or no reaction. Her eyes met Midland’s and the

two exchanged silent worries.

 

Chris felt the removal of the central line, wincing as the tape was removed from his neck. He felt a hand on his neck and pressure being applied to the point  where

the central IV line had been.

 

“Chris we have to treat your hands now,” Midland told him. “Would you rather we started with the left or the right hand?” the doctor asked. At the morning meeting,

between doctors and nurses, they’d agreed to give him small choices to make in hopes to give him a sense of control.

 

“Still not ready to talk, Chris?” Parker asked. “ Well we’ll choose for now and let you tell us when you’re ready too,” he said as he picked up the injured left hand.

 

Chris stayed still during the ministrations of the doctors. Quietly biting his lip to stem the cry of pain as his hands were soaked and re-bandaged. The pain caused by

the treatment of the wound in his side was to much and he did cry out.

 

Midland looked silently at Locke and the nurse injected a dose of morphine into the IV line.

 

Parker and Midland were thorough in their examination and treatment of the wounds to Larabee’s body.

 

“Now, Chris, we have one more decision for you to make. Now you certainly don’t have to answer me but I won’t do this until you tell me too. Would you like to

keep the foley or be allowed to use a urinal.”

 

Without realizing he was doing so the blond’s answer was instantaneous, “Take it out,” he whispered.

 

Midland smiled as she heard the desperation in his voice. “Carol, please remove the foley,” she ordered.

 

“Certainly, Doctor,” Locke said, a matching smile on her face.

 

Chris felt the hands touching his body and was relieved when the catheter was removed. He still refused to open his eyes and look at the people in the room with him.

He felt the morphine he’d been given take control and his eyelids grew heavy with sleep.

 

“How’s he tolerating the Isosource?” Parker asked Locke.

 

“Well he’s been on the twenty-five ccs for four hours now and seems to be doing fine,” she told them.

 

“Increase it to fifty ccs and let me know if there’s any change,” Parker ordered as a tall, grey haired man dressed in white entered the room.

 

“Doctor Midland, I’m Jake Taylor. I was told to report to you here.”

 

“Did they explain what your duties would be?” Midland asked.

 

“Yes, ma’am. They told me I’d be watching one of your patients.”

 

“That’s right. Come outside for a minute,” Midland told him.

 

Once outside Midland explained that he was to watch the patient in three sixteen and that the man was considered a suicide risk.

 

“What happened to him?” Taylor asked.

 

“He was tortured both physically and mentally and has become withdrawn. You’ll stay out of the nurse’s way but remain in the room at all times. Understand?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Taylor answered as he followed the doctor back into the room.

 

“Carol, if there are any problems I’ll be in my office until seven.”

 

“Ok, Doctor Midland,” Locke said as she continued to make notes in her own charts.

 

“You coming, Tom?” Midland asked.

 

“Yeah. Carol, Keep an eye on his temperature as well. It seems a little high right now. It could just be from the lingering infection in his side but if it gets any worse

give me a call.”

 

“Yes, Doctor,” Locke said as they left the room.

 

Carol Locke looked down at the figure on the bed. She gently touched his brow and felt the heat there. ‘I hope Doctor Parker is right, Chris. I don’t think you’d

be able to take anything else happening in your condition,’ she thought as she touched the stiff blond hair. “Next thing we need to do is get you a bath,” she said

aloud.

 

“Ma’am?” Taylor asked from his chair.

 

“I was just talking to myself,” Locke laughed and was surprised by the gentle smile on the orderly’s face.

 

“Oh, ok, I do that myself. Just make sure you don’t answer yourself,” Taylor laughed.

 

“I’m afraid I’ve done that a few times as well. Your name is Jake, right?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Alright, Jake. I’ve got a couple of other patients to see so if there’s any problems call the nurse’s desk.”

 

“I will,” Taylor assured her. He watched the nurse leave the room and stood up from the chair. He walked over to the desk and looked down on the still figure. His

eyes turned cold as he looked him over from head to toe. “Well, Son, it looks like whoever worked you over did a fine job on ya. Been through a few beatings

myself but I never looked as bad as you when they ended,” he said as he watched the blond’s face. He didn’t know if the grimace he saw was caused by pain or

nightmares but he reached down and touched the patient’s right shoulder. “You’re probably going through some pretty rough nightmares right now, Son, but don’t

you worry they’ll soon fade and things won’t seem so bad to you,” he shook his head and returned to his chair.

 

“Mr. Tanner thinks you haven’t been punished enough, Chris,” Whelan said as he knelt in front of the blond, placing his hand on the uninjured left knee.

“He seems to think you need a reminder of what pain really is.”

 

Whelan glanced from the terrified man in the chair to the angry man kneeling in the shadows. “I think this should satisfy Mr. Tanner’s need to see you

punished,” Whelan said as he picked up a shiny silver scalpel. Chris gazed at the object as the light reflected off the blade and into his tired eyes. He

shook his head as Whelan slowly, methodically slid the blade along his right thigh, continuing downwards and slicing deep into the flesh of his calf. He

trembled at the exquisite agony the blade caused, his eyes tearing as he watched the man raise the blood stained scalpel and place it at his left arm. He

watched as if hypnotized as the blade sank just below the skin, blood welling up to flow freely down the arm and pool in the manacles holding his wrists.

 

He watched as Whelan moved from the left arm to the abdomen, just to the right of the navel area. Slowly he sank the razor sharp blade into the fleshy

area, slicing downward at the same depth for five inches, smiling as his victim’s face screwed up in agony. “Vin says it’s time to die, time to die, time to

die,” Whelan’s voice repeated as he lifted the blood stained scalpel to his victim’s throat. Chris felt the scalpel at his throat, felt the blade sinking in and

wanted to lean towards it.

 

He wanted the safety of oblivion but knew it wasn’t to be as Whelan’s evil face was replaced by that of the man he considered to be his brother. “It’s time

to die, Chris,” Tanner’s soft Texas drawl cut through his heart and he screamed in horror of the betrayal. His body bucked in the chair as he tried to

move away from the horror before him.

 

Taylor moved to the wall mounted intercom and pressed the button as soon as he heard the first terrifying cries from the man on the bed.

 

“Can I help you,” the voice asked.

 

“You’d better get someone in here,” Taylor said.

 

“What happened?” Carol asked as she hurried to the bed.

 

“Think it was a nightmare,” Taylor answered and moved out of the way as another nurse entered the room.

 

“Dr. Parker is on his way.”

 

“Thanks, Jenny,” Locke said as she spoke softly to her patient. “Come on, Chris, it’s just a dream. Open your eyes and you’ll see you’re alright.

 

*****Larabee was caught in a nightmare. He was still locked in the chair and couldn’t move away from the face of his friend. He screamed once again as

Tanner angrily spoke to him. “You deserve to die, Chris. You killed Sarah and Adam. You killed them! You killed them. You killed them,” the soft voice

repeated over and over*******

 

“Can you hear me, Chris? Come on. Open your eyes and you’ll see you’re fine,” Locke continued to speak softly but was unable to penetrate the horror Larabee

seemed to be locked in.

 

“What’s going on?” Wilmington asked worriedly as he came into his friend’s room.

 

“Mr. Wilmington, Chris seems to be trapped in a nightmare. Talk to him. See if you can get through to him,” Locke ordered as she tried to hold the injured man on

the bed. She could see fresh blood on the wound in his side as the violence of his struggles opened the healing incision.

 

Wilmington placed his hand on Larabee’s left shoulder, gently massaging the trembling bicep. “Hey, Pard, it’s time to wake up. Old Buck’s here with you now. I’ll

keep you safe, Chris. Come on now let it go and open your eyes,” he pleaded softly. “You hear me, Pard? I’m here and I’ll watch your back. That’s it,” he said as

the trembling began to subside and the eyes slowly opened. “How are you feeling?” he asked as lucid green eyes met his.

 

“He w...wants to k...kill me, Buck,” the hoarse whisper barely reached Wilmington’s ear, yet there was no denying the underlying anguish that accompanied the

statement.

 

“Nobody wants to kill you, Pard. You were just having a nightmare.”

 

“N...not a n...nightmare. L...leave me a...alone,” Larabee pleaded as he closed his eyes and turned away from the moustached man.

 

“Can’t do that, Pard. You need me right now,” Wilmington told him.

 

“What’s the problem, Carol?” Parker asked as he hurried into the room.

 

“Another nightmare,” she answered softly. “I think you’d better look at this,” she suggested, showing him the fresh blood on the bandage covering the laceration on

his abdomen.

 

Parker shook his head as he touched the injured man’s shoulder. “I’m going to have a look at your side, Chris. Think you can stay still for me?” Hoping for, but not

expecting an answer he gently removed the tape from the wound. Fresh blood continued to well up at the top and bottom of the gash. “Get me some sutures,” he

ordered and Locke did as he asked. Once more they cleaned the laceration and covered it with a fresh bandage.

 

“All finished, Chris,” Parker said.

 

“Did you hear that, Pard? All done. Now why don’t you thank the doctor?” Wilmington asked, hoping to draw the blond into a conversation. His face showed his

disappointment when there was no answer from his friend.

 

“I think he’s gone back to sleep,” Locke said as she checked his vitals.

 

“Let him sleep. I’ve arranged Physio starting tomorrow.”

 

“What time will they be here?” the nurse asked.

 

“I told them you’d call them with a time.”

 

“I’ll give Chris the choice when he wakes up. Will you be staying for a while, Mr. Wilmington?”

 

“If it’s alright I’d like to stay with him.”

 

Locke nodded and followed Parker out of the room.

 

“Why don’t you grab another chair from the nurse. I’ll keep an eye on your friend.”

 

“Thanks...”

 

“Jake.”

 

“Thanks, Jake,” Wilmington said as he hurried to get a second chair.