With one arm about Chris’ shoulders and Larabee’s arm around his waist, Vin hobbled slowly toward the house, gritting his teeth and fixing his whole will on just going forward. But his head still swam, and his left knee throbbed unmercifully, the two combining to turn what should have been a matter of a few easy steps into a test of endurance. Yet even so, he knew with instinctive certainty that he was safe, that there was no way in hell Chris would let him fall. And that beyond Chris there were five other men who shared that same determination.

Lord, Lord, how had a stray like him ever wandered into a pack like this?

At last, they made it into the den and crossed to the sofa. Never so glad to see such a sight in all his life, he would simply have dropped down upon it had Chris not caught him and lowered him gently. He sank gratefully into its firm embrace, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against the back with a deep sigh of relief. But the sigh turned to a sharp hiss and his whole body went rigid with pain as his left leg was lifted and his knee manipulated carefully.

"Shit!"

"I’m sorry, Vin," Nathan apologized softly, finally lowering Tanner’s leg onto the cushions JD had stacked on the coffee table. "Just tryin’ ta see what’s wrong with it." He looked up, and smiled at the anxious expressions of four men all eager to help. "One’a y’all wanta get him some Tylenol and somethin’ ta wash it down with?"

"Got it!" JD barked, off and running before the words left his mouth.

Chris studied the lines of pain etched into Vin’s waxen face, then frowned down at the medic. "You don’t think he needs somethin’ stronger than Tylenol?"

Nathan shook his head and rose to his feet, unflappably patient in the face of his boss’s worry. "It’s too soon since the last dose of the pain meds they gave him in the hospital. Tylenol and an icepack’ll make it bearable until he can have somethin’ stronger."

"Don’t want nothin’ stronger," Vin rasped, never opening his eyes. "I’m tired of takin’ all that shit. Keeps my head all messed up, ’n Lord knows I don’t need no more of that."

Chris turned to his friend and stared down at him, arching a blond brow. "I thought we agreed–"

"I didn’t say I’s crazy, I said my head’s messed up." He cracked open one eye and met Larabee’s stare easily. "’N even you gotta admit that’s true."

Chris sighed heavily and sank wearily onto the couch beside his friend, resting his head against the thickly padded back. "Fine," he breathed, too tired to argue.

Vin nodded once, satisfied that he’d won, and closed his eye again. "Fine," he repeated.

Josiah shook his head and chuckled softly as he watched them. "Helluva pair, aren’t they?" he mused, his eyes alight with affectionate humor. "Couldn’t either one of ’em stand up right now if he had to, but they can still fight with each other."

"That’s because ain’t either one of ’em got a lick of sense," Nathan snorted. "Don’t know enough just ta shut up and rest. That one there," he leveled a thick, dark finger at Tanner, "you could run over with a tank, and he’d still come up spittin’. And that one," the finger turned to Larabee, "hell, I don’t even wanta think about what it’d take ta keep him down. You watch, they’ll be makin’ trouble two days after they’re dead."

"Chris won’t have no time fer that," Vin drawled, a slight smile shadowing his mouth. "He’ll be too busy tryin’ ta take over hell."

"Only because they’ll need my help down there ta keep your scrawny ass in line," Chris retorted. "How’s your knee?"

"My ass wouldn’t be s’ scrawny if ya served decent grub in this joint," Vin grumbled. "Ain’t had nothin’ but soup since I got outta the hospital." He gingerly flexed his knee and winced. "Still hurts somethin’ fierce, but not like it did. How’s your face?"

"About like your knee." He opened his eyes to slits and turned his head to glare at Tanner. "And it’s not like you can stay outta the hospital long enough to eat a decent meal! Not twenty-four hours after you’re released, you have to go back again. Whatta ya want me ta do? Pack you a picnic basket?"

"I got the Tylenol!" JD announced, hurrying back into the den.

"Hope you brought enough for me," Nathan muttered, dropping his head into his hand.

Josiah smiled broadly and clapped the medic soundly on the back. "Ah, now, brother, don’t tell me you haven’t missed this?"

"What I miss," Nathan moaned, "is my sanity."

Josiah chuckled and shook his head, then turned to JD. "What do you say, son, Tylenol all around?"

The boy grinned brightly. "Maybe I should’ve arranged ’em on a plate with some of those little toothpicks like Mrs. Travis uses at her parties when she serves her horse duvers."

"Hors d’oeuvres!" Ezra corrected sharply from behind the bar, where he had taken refuge. "Good Lord, is there no end to the outrages you lot perpetrate on civilization?"

Josiah arched a heavy silver brow. "Tylenol, brother?"

Ezra smirked. "No, I think not." He set out a glass and opened a bottle. "I have found other medicinal comfort."

"Tell me that’s not my best bourbon," Chris growled, knowing all too well of the Southerner’s penchant for the stuff.

Standish quickly slid the distinctive bottle out of sight. "Perish the thought, Mr. Larabee," he demurred smoothly, raising the glass to his nose and closing his eyes as he breathed in the wondrous smoky aroma of Kentucky’s best. "Ah, ambrosia!"

"Reckon I’ll have me some of that instead’a them pills," Vin drawled, turning his head and grinning at the sight of Ezra almost making love to the bourbon. "Oughtta fix what’s ailin’ me."

"You ain’t gettin’ any liquor, Vin Tanner!" Nathan ordered firmly, lifting his head from his head and glaring at the sharpshooter. "With all the stuff you got in your system, you’d lapse into a coma if ya just breathed the fumes! Now," he swept his gaze about the room, quickly establishing his authority, "JD, you give Chris and Vin the Tylenol. Josiah, you’re in charge of dinner. And," he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a neatly folded set of papers, "this here is a list of what Vin needs ta eat–"

"Shit," Tanner breathed in disgust.

"It’s for your own good," Nathan gritted through clenched teeth.

"So’s a rectal exam, and I don’t see nobody jumpin’ in line fer one’a them, do I?"

JD snickered, and Nathan glared harder. Josiah silently took the list from the medic’s fisting hand, fighting his own smirk, and slipped out of the room before he became an unwilling witness to murder. Chris, however, smiled openly, his eyes still closed.

Nice to see Vin gettin’ under somebody else’s skin for a change…

"Now, fellas," Buck soothed, stepping forward to prevent yet another trip to the hospital, "let’s not ruin this lovely day by bickerin’ amongst ourselves." He went to the table by Larabee’s recliner and picked up the remote. "We’re all together, ain’t nobody bleedin’–"

"Yet," Nathan muttered.

Buck ignored him pointedly. "What’s say we celebrate." He clicked on the TV. "ESPN’s coverin’ the NCAA cheerleader competition, and I hear Pepperdine’s the squad to beat this year."

Chris laughed softly, Nathan groaned and dropped his head into his hand again, and JD stared at his roommate in unabashed awe. "How do you know all this stuff?"

"’Cause Bucklin’s been oglin’ cheerleaders since before you was born, kid," Vin said with a contented smile. "Man’s got an instinct fer girls flippin’ in the air and showin’ what’s under their skirts."

Buck pointed the remote at Vin and scowled. "It’s remarks like that that separate the shallow voyeurs from the true aficionados–"

"That’s it," Chris groaned, leaning forward and dropping his head into his hands. "From now on, you stay the hell away from Ezra. And, Ezra, get the hell outta my good bourbon!"

Standish nearly choked on his liquor as that bark filled the room. Coughing discreetly, he set the glass down, returned the bottle to its hiding place, and retrieved another – and inferior – one to replace it. "Your snarl is my command," he acquiesced smoothly, smiling as his gaze lit upon yet another of Larabee’s "private" stashes. "Cigars, anyone?"

"JD," Chris said in a low voice, "if you don’t open that bottle now and start handin’ over the pills…"

"Two or three?" the boy asked quickly, all but wrenching the top off the bottle.

"Just give him the bottle, kid, and make sure he don’t bite off your fingers," Buck advised.

Vin sat back and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of his friends’ voices and the feeling of their nearness wash over him in warm and healing waves. At times, when the demons raged in his mind or the pain of his injuries seemed unbearable, he wondered why he fought so hard, why he held on so tightly when just letting go would be so much easier. Now, though, he knew.

It was this, this sense of being part of something he didn’t always understand but needed nonetheless, this sure and certain knowledge that he belonged here, with these men, as he’d never belonged anywhere else in his life. He wasn’t fighting alone, he knew that now, would never fight alone again. Would never be alone again. Maybe these men couldn’t slay all his demons or take away all his pain, but they did give him the strength and a reason to go on when everything in him wanted only to quit.

He couldn’t give up, because they would never give up on him.

Chris watched the thin, frail body at his side relaxing, watched the expression of deepest peace settling upon the pale, drawn face, and felt a leaden weight falling off his own heart. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that just being here would solve Vin’s problems, or that he and the other five by themselves could give Tanner all the help he so desperately needed. But it was a start, and it gave Vin a chance he’d never had before.

And the only thing Vin Tanner had ever really needed in life was a chance.

7~7~7~7

A deep and peaceful quiet lay over the den. Ezra, Nathan and JD had gone home shortly after supper to give the two injured men in their midst some much-needed peace and quiet, Buck and Josiah were in the kitchen on clean-up duty, and now only Vin and Chris remained in the room. Larabee was sunk deep into one of his butter-soft leather recliners, his eyes closed, his bruised features and lean body utterly relaxed as if in repose, and Vin was once more ensconced in his rocker, wrapped in the folds of Nettie’s quilt.

He wasn’t asleep, but he was at rest, his hunger sated by Josiah’s rich beef stew and delicious beer rolls, his various hurts eased by a recent dose of pain pills, his soul soothed by a generous mug of hot chocolate. Not the instant kind made with water, which was good enough in its own right, but the honest-to-God stuff, with real cocoa and real milk and real marshmallows melted on top. Right now, he reckoned he was happier than a pig in slop.

"Not much in life that compares to the feelin’ of a full stomach, is there?" Chris asked contentedly, never opening his eyes. "Guess they’re right about simple pleasures bein’ the best."

"Nothin’ simple ’bout good food ’n better friends," Vin said softly. "Not if ya’ve ever gone without ’em. Hell, I reckon there’s folks rollin’ in money who’d envy what we got right here."

Chris chuckled quietly. "Ezra might dispute that."

"No, he wouldn’t. Not and mean it, anyway."

Larabee cracked an eye open and studied his friend, struck by the quiet conviction of his words. And by the truth in them. Standish might complain loudly and often about his teammates’ "uncivilized" behavior, but he didn’t exactly exert himself to avoid their company. And the Southerner was no one’s idea of a "joiner."

"Guess that means I won’t be gettin’ rid of you bunch for a while, then," he said, sounding strangely at ease with the prospect.

"Well, not ’til we eat all your food ’n drink all your liquor, anyways."

Larabee’s other eye opened, and both found their way to Tanner’s face. "You ain’t drinkin’ nobody’s liquor, you hear me?" he ordered sternly. "Not with that pharmacy runnin’ through your bloodstream!"

"Yes, Ma," Vin sighed resignedly.

"Besides, you’ve got real cocoa there," Chris added, letting his eyes close. "What more could you want?"

Vin smiled. "Chili cheese fries."

"Oh, God!"

Vin lifted his head from the back of the rocker and stared at his friend. "Ain’t you ever had hot chocolate and chili cheese fries on a cool day?" He smacked his lips loudly. "Cain’t beat it fer takin’ away the chill!"

Chris grimaced deeply. "I wonder about you sometimes, Tanner."

"Only sometimes?"

"Yeah." Again, he cracked open an eye. "The rest of the time, I’m sure."

"You got no imagination, Larabee," Vin grumbled.

"I got lots of imagination. But I also have good sense."

Vin was silent a beat, then asked quietly, "That why ya told Nathan ta bring me back here, even after what I done?"

Chris was startled. He had known this moment, this talk, must come, but hadn’t expected it quite yet. Still, he welcomed any chance to clear the air between them, and seized upon the one he’d been given. Raising the back of the recliner so that he was sitting up, he faced Vin squarely and answered firmly, "Yeah, that’s exactly why I told him that. Because I had the good sense to know this is where you belong, despite what happened. Or, hell, maybe even because of it."

Vin frowned, caught off guard by that answer. "Bec– I don’t understand. I belong here because I went nuts and whupped up on ya?"

Chris winced and shook his head. "Let’s add ‘nuts’ to the list of things I don’t wanta hear you callin’ yourself, okay? I’ll give you ‘messed up,’ though I still don’t like it, but I draw the line at ‘crazy’ and ‘nuts.’ And I reserve the right to add words later as I see fit."

Vin narrowed his eyes accusingly. "You were a lawyer in another life, weren’tcha?"

"Nope," Chris said easily, without a trace of pain or bitterness. "I was a father."

Vin had no answer for that, which was exactly what Chris had intended. He wanted his friend disarmed, unable to hide himself and what he felt behind the wit that so often served as a shield. He had to get Tanner out from behind his formidable defenses, and he’d use any means at his disposal to do so.

"You listen to me," he said in a low, compelling voice, his clear green eyes boring unwaveringly, almost fiercely, into Tanner’s uncertain blue ones. "This," he raised a hand to his bruised face, "is not your fault. I know I said that before, but I’m gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe it. You were caught up in one of those flashbacks of yours, you thought I was that bastard from your past, and you were terrified. You thought you were in danger, and you did the only thing you knew to do. You fought. And all that happened because I pushed you. I made a mistake, Vin, and we both paid the price. But," his voice and eyes softened, "I think you’re payin’ the higher price, by far. My wounds are only skin deep. Yours go all the way to your soul. And that’s the last place you needed any new hurts, pard."

Vin swallowed hard and licked his lips, searching Larabee’s face intently and frowning in utter confusion. "But that don’t explain… why ya’d want me here," he rasped softly.

Chris smiled slightly. "Well, let’s just say I know what not ta do now," he said with rueful humor. "I’d like ta think I can learn from my mistakes." He could see that the answer did not satisfy Vin; he hadn’t really expect it to. Dropping the facade of humor, he leaned forward and asked with the utmost seriousness, "Do you trust me, Vin?"

Tanner started visibly at the question. He sat up straight, his eyes widening, his lips parting. Never in his life would he have expected that question from this man. After several moments, though, he shook his head to clear it, then answered without a trace of doubt, "You know I do. Hell, I never even knew I could trust anybody like I do you."

Chris nodded and permitted himself a small smile, reassured – and touched – by the answer. Then, with that same quiet intensity, he asked, "And do you feel safe here? At the ranch, with me?"

Vin’s eyes widened again and his thin frame went still, except for the faint trembling of his lips. Lord, how could he put what he felt when he was here into words? But Chris wanted an answer, needed an answer, and he knew he had to try. Softly, haltingly at first, he began to speak.

"I learned a long time ago that home ain’t a place," he drawled, his voice even huskier than usual. "When I’s a kid, the social workers kep’ callin’ the places they stuck me in ‘foster homes.’ ’Cept they weren’t homes at all. Leastways, they weren’t my homes. They was jist places. Home is somethin’ ya feel, and I never felt it in any’a them places. I had that feelin’ once, and, even though I lost it, I never did forget it. Still ain’t forgot it ta this day."

He paused for breath, for thought, and frowned, licking his lips as was his habit when considering. "I wish I could describe that feelin’ for ya, but I’m not sure I can. But there’s a kinda warmth, and a comfort… You can relax there, let down your guard, ’cause ya know that even when ya fuck up jist about ever’ way ya can, it’s all right. Ya still got this place ta come to and it’ll be all right. You can jist lay low, lick your wounds, figger out whatcha done wrong and how ta fix it, then rest a bit until you can fix it. And if there’s other folks there, you know they ain’t gonna throw ya out fer fuckin’ up, but they’re gonna help ya ’n take care of ya until you can stand on your own again. Mostly, though, they’ll jist take ya fer who and what ya are, and won’t try ta make ya inta somethin’ differ’nt. But they’ll sure as shootin’ try ta help ya be better." He shot a frustrated look at Larabee. "That make any sense at all?"

"Yeah, pard, it does," Chris said softly.

Vin sighed and sat back, letting his gaze travel about the den, seeing the walnut paneled walls, the thick timbers crossing the ceiling, the massive oak bar, the vast fireplace with its foot-high brick hearth and oak mantelpiece, and the deep bookcases that spanned the length and height of one wall. He took in the long, over-stuffed sofa upholstered in a Southwestern pattern of shifting dark blue, burgundy, deep green and tan, the heavy coffee table and smaller end and lamp tables, all fashioned from mountain pine. Hand-loomed throw rugs were scattered over the hardwood floor, and in one corner stood an antique roll-top desk, an unlikely home to Larabee’s computer. The room had an air of warmth, of solidness, of peace. And it surrounded Vin Tanner with everything he knew, remembered or just imagined "home" to be.

Yet that feeling, he knew, came not so much from the room itself as from the man who currently occupied it with him.

"Been a long time since I ever really felt safe anywheres," he breathed, his gaze still meandering about the den. "Reckon my apartment was the first place since I’s a kid." He smiled slightly. "I know y’all call it my ‘lair,’ ’n I reckon y’ain’t far off the mark. Mebbe I do tend ta hole up there sometimes, but, hell, ever’ man needs a place he can call his own, someplace he can lay his head down and not have ta sleep with one eye open."

Chris had to shake his head in amazement that anyone could feel safe in Purgatorio, much less a man who knew as much about the dangers its streets harbored as did Vin. Yet he’d seen Tanner visibly, physically relax when he stepped across the threshold of his apartment, had seen shoulders bowed by unbearable tension straighten as that tension just fell away, and knew that, shabby as it might look to others, it was all – and everything – Vin needed.

"Nettie’s’d be another," Vin said, his smile softening at the thought of the small but sturdy log house that was home to the old woman and her niece. "Always smells cooked in, y’know? Fresh bread, cinnamon, coffee… There’s always jist a hint of somethin’ in the air. ’N I don’t b’lieve I’ve ever been there and not seen a plate of cookies on the table."

Chris chuckled softly, and wondered if Tanner had any idea the feisty old woman kept those cookies out just for him, and that she tailored every batch specifically to what she thought his current mood required. There was more medicine in a single plate of Nettie Wells’s cookies than in an entire pharmacy, and her favorite patient was Vin Tanner.

"Still, though," Vin breathed, his gaze finally coming to rest on the huge fireplace, and on the sprawling clutter of photos that adorned its mantelpiece, "I don’t reckon there’s any place I feel near as safe as I do when I’m here. ’S like a fortress, y’know? Jist seems like when I’m here, couldn’t nothin’ bad possibly happen to me. Still ain’t sure I can tell ya what home feels like, Chris. I jist know it feels like here."

Larabee was stunned. In all the times Vin had been here, for all the reasons he’d been here, he’d never once given the slightest hint as to the depth of his feeling for the place. Or… had he? Suddenly, a thousand little clues poured into his memory, seeming insignificant, yet each one speaking volumes.

When Tanner entered the den, he customarily flopped onto the couch, and only now did Chris realize that Vin was not a man who ordinarily "flopped." He eased into chairs, perched on desk or table edges, leaned against walls, and usually looked as if he were ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. He relaxed slowly, if at all, and never once stopped keeping watch on his surroundings. Except here. Here he flopped, loose-limbed and easy, and within minutes could be in death-deep sleep.

And though he could easily live out of a single suitcase for weeks, even when here for only one or two nights, he always unpacked and put his belongings away in "his" dresser. The man who kept an "emergency" bag packed in his own apartment left nothing packed here. As if this were the only place in the world from which he could never imagine having to run.

God, why hadn’t he seen this before? Why hadn’t he recognized this before? He’d always told Vin to make himself at home here, but not until now had he really understood that he truly had. Or could it be that his mind was only now seeing what he’d instinctively known all along?

"I’m an idiot," he breathed.

"There any one reason in particular, or you jist takin’ stock?" Vin asked cautiously.

Larabee shot him a glare and arched a brow. "Don’t get lippy with me, Tanner, or you’ll be sharin’ a stall with Peso tonight."

"Fine," the sharpshooter answered. "Then when I go back to the hospital, you get ta explain why ta Dr. Stone." He arched his own brow. "I get the feelin’ she ain’t real eager ta see me again."

"Must be the Tanner charm."

"Hell," Vin snorted, "at least I got charm. Now, you wanta tell me why you’re an idiot, or should I jist chalk it up to the usual things?"

Chris opened his mouth to give a sharp retort, then closed it when he realized Vin was doing it again. In a moment of openness, the sharpshooter had bared a piece of his soul, then had quickly covered the lapse with his prickly humor. But this time, he wasn’t going to get away with it.

"I’m glad you feel that way about this place," he said quietly, again seeing the blue eyes widen as a nerve was hit. "I want you ta feel safe here, Vin," he said in that same soft, soothing voice. "I want you ta know that you’ll always be protected here. Most of all, I want you ta know that it’s perfectly all right, that you’re safe enough, to fall apart when you have to."

That last hit Vin like a punch to the gut, driving the air from his lungs and the strength from his limbs in a heavy, painful rush. He fell back in his chair, eyes wide, dark and unblinking, face gone deathly white, his expression one of sheer terror.

Hating that expression, but steeling himself against it, Chris went on, careful to keep his voice low and even. "All these years, you’ve forced the memories of what happened in your past to stay buried. You’ve pushed ’em down so deep even you didn’t know they were there. And, for a while, that worked. Maybe that’s what you needed to do to get on with your life, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s not workin’ anymore, and those memories are comin’ back, and you’re gonna have to deal with them. You have to, Vin. You have to face them, accept them, and deal with them, or they’ll tear you apart. I think we’d all agree," he added sadly, "that they’ve made a pretty good start of that already."

Vin shook his head slowly, the only response he could make. Words still wouldn’t come; breath still wouldn’t come. All at once he felt cold, and began to tremble visibly.

"I know you don’t want to," Chris said, hurting deeply for his stricken friend. "Hell, if there were any other way… But there’s not. Not anymore. They’re comin’ out, Vin, and there’s nothin’ you can do to stop ’em. And you’ll only hurt yourself if you try. God knows, we’ve seen that! You have to let ’em come, and you have to let yourself fall apart when they do. You’ve been tryin’ so long and so hard to hold yourself together, but you’re comin’ unraveled from the strain. Let go, Vin," he pleaded softly, urgently. "Don’t do this to yourself anymore! Just let go. And I swear to ya, pard, I swear to you on Sarah and Adam’s graves, I’ll be right here to catch you when you do!"

Tears stung Vin’s eyes and slid slowly down his white cheeks, and his thin frame shook violently. He clutched Nettie’s quilt around him desperately, but could not stave off the terrible chill. "You d… you don’t know… what you’re askin’!" he whispered harshly. "You d… you don’t see–"

"I do know, Vin." He let down the footrest of the recliner and leaned forward in the chair, his anguished eyes fixed on his friend’s. "I s…" He swallowed hard and had to force himself to go on. "I saw… the aftermath… of the explosion that killed my wife and son. I saw their b… their bodies… being zipped into those damn bags. I saw it, Vin. But for the longest time, I told myself I didn’t. I convinced myself I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to remember them that way." His voice was raw, ragged, yet still he forced himself to continue. "No one should ever see their wife and child that way. So I made myself believe I hadn’t. But the drinking and the blackouts and the nightmares, and the black, uncontrollable rages that I went into, all told a different story. I didn’t want to remember, but I didn’t want to live like that, either. And the only way I could stop was to let myself remember, and to come to grips with those memories. Believe me, Vin," he whispered, "it was the hardest, most painful thing I’ve ever done, and I wouldn’t wish it on a friend. But I’m tellin’ you, you’ve got no choice!"

"I cain’t–"

"Yes, you can," Chris assured him. "I did. And I’m not one bit stronger than you. You’ll do it the same way I did – minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, one step forward and five steps back, crawlin’ and clawin’ and cryin’ the whole damn way, your heart and soul torn into so many pieces you’ll think they’ll never be whole again – but, by God, Vin, you will do it! You won’t do it alone, though, any more than I did." He drew a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly, remembering only too clearly those hellish days and the one saving grace he’d had in his life. "I had someone with me every step of the way, someone to carry me when I couldn’t walk, to drag me forward when I wanted to crawl back, someone who refused to let me climb inside myself, or a bottle, and die. He wiped away every tear I cried, he bound up every wound that bled, and he caught every punch I threw. And when it was over, God help and love him, he was still right there by my side, as strong as he’d ever been and lookin’ at me as if I’d done the whole damn thing on my own. He wouldn’t take a word of thanks then, and he won’t take one now. But the fact is, if he hadn’t been there then, I probably would’ve blown my fuckin’ brains out that first night."

"Bucklin," Vin whispered, knowing who that friend had been as surely as if he’d seen it himself.

"Bucklin," Chris said unsteadily, his own face wet with tears. "I literally owe my soul to that man."

In the doorway between the dining room and the den, Buck Wilmington barely suppressed a sob and fell back a step, then turned and retreated through the dining room and back into the kitchen, his big frame shuddering convulsively as he fled. Josiah followed close on his heels, both horrified and deeply moved by the story he’d overheard, and filled with an entirely new respect and admiration for their jovial ladies’ man.

God, what other unsuspected riches resided in these men who were his friends?

Vin stared at Chris a moment longer, then bowed his head and closed his eyes. "But you don’t know what I done," he whispered miserably. "Hell, I don’t know what I done! But I know it was bad! Preacher said I’s goin’ ta hell fer it–"

"Then we’ll find out together," Chris said firmly, wiping his face and holding his head high, his green eyes filled with determination. "And whatever you did, I know you well enough to know you had to do it. That preacher was wrong, Vin. You’re not goin’ to hell, you’ve been there. And I think it’s high time we got you out!"

"How?" Vin asked weakly, raising his head and staring at Chris through tortured eyes. "How we gonna do that when we don’t even know–"

"We’ll do it the same damn way we’ve done everything else." Larabee leaned forward once more and extended his arm.

Vin stared at that outstretched arm, seeming not to know what to do with it at first. But slowly, slowly, understanding dawned, and, hesitantly at first, then with growing conviction, he extended his own and grasped Larabee’s in their familiar forearm clasp, gradually tightening his grip until he was holding on for dear life.

"Just like this, Vin," Chris said, tightening his hold on Tanner. "You hold onto me, and I’ll hold onto you, and together, pard, I promise you, together we will get you through this!"

7~7~7~7

Buck all but collapsed into the nearest chair at the small kitchen table, then dropped his head onto folded arms, his body still shuddering convulsively as he fought against the sobs threatening to tear from him. It wasn’t Chris’s recollections of seeing Sarah and Adam’s burned bodies that had undone him, but the unexpected wealth and depth of emotion with which he’d spoken of all that Buck had done for him afterward. Buck simply hadn’t ever expected to hear Chris open up so completely about those dark and difficult days, or to express so clearly what his friend’s care had meant – still meant – to him.

Josiah stood by the shaken man’s side and said nothing, just reached down and laid a big, comforting hand on his heaving back. Tears streaked his own face and he let them fall, utterly unashamed of them. He still marveled at what he had heard, and gave silent thanks for having been granted a glimpse into that rarest of all gifts – a friendship that gave without any consideration of cost or hardship. He also gave thanks that Chris recognized that gift, as well.

Long moments passed as Buck struggled to get his scattered thoughts and rioting emotions under control. He didn’t understand why hearing Chris speak of those days had hit him so hard. He’d done only what he had to do, what any friend would have done. Chris had needed him, had needed a hand to pull him out of the darkness that had engulfed and was threatening to destroy him, and he’d simply offered that hand. It hadn’t been easy for either of them, but, hell, since when had life been easy?

And God knew a man like Chris Larabee was worth every bit of the effort, and more.

When at last he could, he lifted his head from his arms and sat up, then scrubbed his hands over his wet face and through his hair, breathing deeply and sniffing loudly. A weak smile flitted across his face as Josiah handed him a clean and neatly folded handkerchief. He blew his nose and wiped his mustache, then wadded the cloth and shoved it into his shirt pocket, doubting Sanchez would want it back.

"Sorry," he rasped at last.

Josiah arched two heavy brows. "For what?"

Buck snorted and waved a big hand. "Hell, for fallin’ apart like some goddamn kid–"

"Honest emotion is nothin’ to apologize for," Josiah said with a shrug. "God knows, the world could certainly use more of it." He patted the younger man’s back. "You’ve never been a man to hide your heart, Buck Wilmington," he said gently. "Don’t start tryin’ now. Too many of us draw too much strength from it."

"Not so sure about that strength thing," Buck quipped ruefully.

Again, Josiah’s brows rose. "You can doubt that? After hearing what Chris just said? And after having watched JD Dunne grow into the man he is under your tutelage?"

Buck shrugged and bowed his head, staring down at the table. "Hell, Josiah, I don’t do nothin’ anybody else couldn’t or wouldn’t do–"

"Ah, brother, that’s where you are so wrong," Sanchez breathed quietly, his voice warm, his eyes soft. "You open your heart without reservation, and you freely give the strength of that heart to anyone in need. You’d shelter the whole world from hurt if you could, you’d take all that hurt upon yourself to spare one person, and that, Buck, is just not something ‘anybody else’ does too often."

"Had to do it," Buck said softly, sadly. "Chris needed me – hell, just needed somebody – and I couldn’t turn away. Not and call myself a friend." He turned and raised pain-darkened blue eyes to Sanchez. "You didn’t see him back then, Josiah, you don’t know… He was in hell," he whispered strickenly. "Bad enough losin’ Sarah and Adam, but to lose ’em like that, and then to see–" He shuddered violently and closed his eyes tightly, his face contorting into a mask of unspeakable pain. "My God," he choked, the horror of it again engulfing him, "as long as I live, I’ll never forget seein’ them, and never forget seein’ him. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried, but those sights, that day, will haunt me to my grave!"

"You had your own grief to deal with," Josiah said evenly, his hand remaining firm against Buck’s back. "You could’ve been forgiven for leaving Chris to deal with his–"

"Not by me," Buck protested sharply, angrily. "You don’t leave a friend in hell just because you’re hurtin’, Josiah! Not if you wanta be able to look at yourself in the mirror! Besides," his anger faded, leaving only sorrow in its wake, "he wasn’t dealin’ with it. That was the problem. He was tryin’ his dead level best to just go on like he wasn’t screamin’ and dyin’ inside… You leave a wound like that untended too long, and it starts to fester. And, one day, the poison will kill ya. But I figured I couldn’t let that happen. Not without a fight." A faint, wry smile touched his mouth, and he raised rueful eyes to Sanchez. "And, believe me, brother, it was a fight and a half!"

"I imagine it was," Josiah said with a knowing chuckle. "And better thee than me!" After a moment, he sobered and studied Buck intently. "You know we’re facin’ the same fight with Vin."

"Oh, hell, yeah," Buck sighed, pain again creasing his mobile face. "That boy’s got more wounds in his soul than I can count, and ever’ damn one of ’em’s broke open and bleedin’. He’s been in denial so long, he don’t even know what he’s denyin’ anymore. And it’s about ta swallow him whole."

Josiah patted Buck’s broad back once, then left his side and walked around to the chair facing him, easing himself into it. He laced his thick fingers together and rested his joined hands on the table, gathering his thoughts, then lifted a serious blue gaze to Wilmington. "We can help him," he said quietly, "but we can’t do it all ourselves."

Buck waved a hand dismissingly. "Hell, I know that!" he snorted, startling the older man. "I’ve known it all along. That boy needs counselin’, real counselin’, not just our kind. But gettin’ him ta see that is gonna be the same kind of ugly battle it was with Chris."

Once more, Josiah’s eyebrows climbed high, and frank surprise flooded his face. "Chris? Sought counseling?"

Buck gave a short bark of laughter. "‘Sought’?" He laughed again and shook his head. "I don’t know that I’d say he ‘sought’ it so much as he surrendered to it. Thought I never was gonna get him ta see reason on that point. But when he realized nothin’ else was workin’ for him, and when he realized he’d have ta kill me ta get me ta go away, he finally gave in. But I’ll say this for the ol’ hard-ass – once he realized it was workin’ for him, he kept at it. Went faithfully for a year, and came out finally knowin’ how ta deal with what had happened."

Josiah sat back and frowned thoughtfully. "Does Vin know that?"

Buck shrugged. "I don’t know. Probably not. Ain’t somethin’ Chris talks about."

"Maybe he should," Josiah mused. "Maybe Vin needs to hear it. Right now, he feels like he’s the only one who’s ever been through this. And part of his problem is that he’s ashamed of what’s happenin’ to him. He’s dealt with everything else in his life, and dealt with it on his own. He thinks he should be able to do the same with this, and it’s killin’ him that he can’t. He thinks he’s failin’ himself. And," he added sadly, "failin’ us."

"Bullshit!" Buck barked, anger igniting within him and sparking in his eyes. "That boy ain’t ever failed anybody that I can see, and he sure as hell ain’t doin’ it now! He was abused, Josiah! Some fuckin’ asshole beat the shit outta him on a regular basis when he was just a kid, for Christ’s sake, and that ain’t somethin’ anybody can deal with on their own! Failin’ us?" he nearly spat. "Good God in the mornin’, that boy’s just about the strongest man, the finest man, I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet, and the day he fails us is the day I’ll give up women and become a monk! Jesus Christ on the cross have mercy on my soul–"

"Easy, Buck, easy!" Josiah laughed, raising big hands to stall Wilmington’s gathering tirade. "I didn’t say I thought that! That’s what Vin thinks!"

"Yeah, well," Buck muttered, crossing his arms against his chest and nailing Josiah with a furious glare, "if that boy ever says that ta me, I’ll damn well set him straight. Failin’ us, my ass! Hell and damnation, he just ain’t got failure in him, and if he ever tells me he does, I’ll–"

"Kick his ass?" Josiah suggested with a smile.

Buck deflated at that, his whole body crumpling into a mass of sorrow. "No," he breathed, shaking his head slowly. "I figure some bastard’s done enough of that already. That boy don’t need no more pain. What he needs is shelter from it."

"Ah," Josiah breathed, his smile turning soft. "Sounds like another job for the Wilmington heart, then." He winked. "Biggest and best shelter the good Lord ever built."

"Don’t know about that," Buck demurred, an uncharacteristic blush darkening his cheeks. "Just know that it’s always had plenty of room for friends in the past, and I reckon there’s more than enough room for friends now."