Elizabeth Stone carefully checked the stitches she’d put into her patient’s hand, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. She hated having to re-do her work, and especially hated having to re-do it because of a patient’s negligence. She even had a sharp lecture prepared for just such maddening occasions.

She wouldn’t be giving that lecture this time.

Satisfied that the long, deep gash was properly closed, she rose from the small stool on which she’d been sitting and stepped to the head of the bed, bowing over Tanner’s face and checking the stitches she’d put in his lip. She couldn’t help noticing that he still wouldn’t meet her gaze, even when he had to close his eyes to avoid it, and a soft, sad sigh escaped her. He hadn’t said a word since she’d come in, had let Larabee answer every question for him. She’d had patients try to wish her away before, but knew that wasn’t the case with him.

He was trying to wish himself away.

She straightened and, though his eyes were still closed, gave him a slight smile. “Those should hold. You just rest here a bit, let’s make sure the locals don’t produce any unpleasant side-effects.” She studied him again, noted the faint blue tinge of his lips and fingernails and glanced over her shoulder to the nurse nearby. “Joy, get a warm blanket on him. The last thing he needs is hypothermia.” She turned back to the bed but gazed across it to the man who stood on the other side, who hadn’t once budged from his place at Tanner’s side. “Shall we step outside for the talk neither of us wants to have?”

Chris stared long and hard at her, gauging her. He knew that she’d been pissed when she’d seen what Vin had done to his hand, and her work, knew she’d been tempted to lay into Tanner for his carelessness. His stupidity. Elizabeth Stone had as much tolerance of and patience with stupidity as he had. And she never spared any of them her thoughts on the matter when she thought they deserved it. But she’d spared Vin this time, and Chris knew it wasn’t because he was standing here just waiting for her to start.

She’d spared Vin because he’d flinched from her the first time she’d reached out to touch him. Chris had watched her anger die in that moment.

He nodded at her, then leaned down to Vin and set a gentle hand on one thin shoulder. He waited for Vin’s head to turn toward him and the blue eyes to open, then smiled. “I’ll be right back,” he said softly, squeezing the younger man’s shoulder reassuringly. “You just lie still, rest. And behave, y’hear?” he added with a wink.

Vin said nothing, merely gazed up at Chris for several moments and gave a faint nod. Then let his eyes slide closed again.

Chris sighed and absently moved his hand from Vin’s shoulder to brush the unruly hair off his pale forehead. “I can almost see through ya, partner,” he breathed sorrowfully. “When we get back to the ranch you let Nettie get some of her good food in you, all right? Start gettin’ some padding between your skin and bones.” Another faint nod, and he straightened. “We’ll be right outside.” He stepped back from the bed, watched while the nurse spread the warm blanket over Vin and tucked it close about him, then walked around to Dr. Stone. “Let’s go.”

She arched a brow at his abrupt tone, but held her tongue and followed him out, deciding to remind him later that she wasn’t on his team. She stopped outside the room and pulled the door shut; Chris reached out and opened it a few inches. She released a slow, measured breath and extended an arm to gesture down the hall. “There’s a room where we can talk–”

“I told Vin we’d be right out here.”

That settled that. She fought back the urge to rub at one temple and thrust her hands instead into the pockets of her lab coat where she could ball them into fists without giving him the satisfaction of seeing her do it. Damned arrogant, infuriating–

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his face softening as he gazed down at her.

She blinked, opened her mouth, and blinked again as he so effectively derailed her mental tirade. She hated it when he did this to her. “Thank you?” she repeated in confusion.

He nodded. “For not tearin’ into him. I know you thought about it, but …” His gaze drifted through the partially open door. “I don’t think he could’ve stood it just now.”

“I know,” she breathed, her own demeanor softening. She stared up at him, studied him, saw the care and concern in him that he simply couldn’t hide. “Tell me about it,” she urged softly.

He shifted his gaze back to her and a strained smile curved about his wide mouth. “Got a couple of days?”

“How about you just hit the high points?”

His smile faded at that and he sighed tiredly. “Trust me, Doc, there aren’t any high points. They just keep gettin’ lower and lower.”

She nodded slightly, thoughtfully, recalling the evasive “non-explanations” he’d given earlier for Vin’s current injuries. She’d suspected the truth then, was certain of it now. “He’s still having flashbacks.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “He’s remembering more, and the more he remembers the more intense – hell, the worse – the flashbacks get. Last night we had … had to give him one of those tranquilizers.” A sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan escaped him and he closed his eyes, his face contorting into a mask of pain. “I hated havin’ to do that to him. I know how he hates it, but–”

“But it’s better than letting him hurt himself or someone else,” she said quietly, feeling for him. “I never liked doing it either, Chris, anymore than I liked having to order him restrained. Sometimes, though,” she gave a wry grimace, “the hard choices are the only ones left to us to make. And at least he’s got people around him who care enough to make them, and make them for the right reasons.”

He sagged back against the wall for support and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “That doesn’t really make it any easier.”

She shrugged. “It’s got to be easier than just standing by and letting him tear himself apart.”

He grimaced and shook his head. “You sound like Josiah. Or Buck.”

She arched a brow and regarded him coldly. “Now that hurt.”

He chuckled quietly, knowing she regarded Wilmington much more highly than she let on. “Yeah, well, even Buck’s bound to make sense some time.” His humor faded again and he sighed, pulling himself away from the wall and rolling his tired shoulders. “So, what’s the verdict on Vin?”

She knew what he feared and decided to ease that worry first. “There’s no reason to admit him. I’d like to keep him here for an hour or two to monitor his vitals and, if he’ll let me, I’d like to get some fluids in him.” Again that disapproving brow lifted. “He’s a little on the dry side. You do remember that I specifically said I want him drinking a lot of liquids?”

“I remember. And we’re tryin’. It’s just …” His gaze drifted again through the door. “Sometimes getting a glass of water or juice down him isn’t exactly our top priority.”

She considered that a moment, tried to figure out how best to answer, then decided that she had more use for finesse in the operating room than out of it. “Look, Chris,” she said finally, “I know I’m just a medical doctor and I’m not supposed to have much knowledge of or use for psychology, but I’m not blind, either. Vin’s problems aren’t just physical and only an idiot would think otherwise. He needs help–”

“I know that,” he cut in sharply, more so than he’d intended. Hearing himself, he bowed his head and closed his eyes, then raised a hand to rub them, drawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly. When he again had control of himself, he dropped his hand and raised his head, gazing steadily at her. “I do, really,” he said quietly. “And more importantly Vin knows that. That’s–” He sighed heavily and grimaced, but figured that she deserved to know the truth. “Hell, that’s what got us here today. You know Nettie Wells?”

She nodded, familiar with Tanner’s “surrogate mother” from his previous stays in the hospital. But she remembered that the woman had been out of town during this latest round of them and couldn’t help wondering what part she had to play in any of this now.

Chris ran a hand through his hair, then started pacing. “Nettie’s been gone, you know that. But she’s back now, and yesterday she came out to see him. You know how much they mean to each other. But while she was with him, she … said somethin’ … and it set him off. He … he attacked her. He didn’t know who she was or what he was doin’,” he added quickly, defensively. “He just … he thought …” He caught her skeptical look and exhaled heavily. “All right, he knew exactly what he was doin’. But he didn’t mean … he didn’t know … He’d never knowingly hurt Nettie–”

She reached out and took his arm firmly, stilling his pacing. “It’s all right,” she said quietly, meeting his troubled eyes calmly. “You don’t have to defend him to me. I know, remember? I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, suddenly remembering that Vin had gone for her throat, too. He winced deeply and shook his head, then reached up to rub at one temple. “That’s why we had to give him that tranquilizer. You can imagine what kind of state he was in after … well, after. And this morning, when he remembered what he’d done … God,” he groaned, falling back against the wall and staring past her as the scene replayed itself in his mind, “when I went into his room to check on him, he was sittin’ on his bed and cryin’, pullin’ his hair … He didn’t hurt his lip fallin’,” he said softly, recalling the false impression he’d given her when they’d first come in. “He did that with his own teeth.”

She nodded slowly. “I figured.” When he stared at her in surprise, she shrugged. “I’ve sewn together enough car accident victims to know what it looks like when someone bites through their own lip,” she told him.

“I guess you have,” he breathed. “I should’ve known that.”

She regarded him sympathetically. “I’m not your enemy, Chris,” she said gently. “I’m not Vin’s enemy. And I’m not out to put him away because he’s crazy. But I don’t like stitching together self-inflicted wounds. Most of all, I don’t like worrying about the ones I might not be able to stitch up next time.”

“I’ve locked up all my guns–”

“And that’s good. I’m glad to hear that. But we both know that someone who’s really determined doesn’t need a gun–”

“He knows he needs help,” he said again. “When I found him this morning, I just … I lost it. I couldn’t stand the thought of him punishing himself any longer! I wanted him to see what he was doin’ to himself …” He grimaced, remembering his fear, his fury. “I grabbed him, dragged him down the hall to the bathroom … and he fought.” He laughed without humor. “Jesus, he was pissed! Fought me every step of the way, howlin’ and cussin’ like you wouldn’t believe.” He shook his head. “I thought he was gonna beat us both to death, but at least he was here, y’know? Not lost somewhere in his own mind.” He shrugged. “And somewhere durin’ all that he broke the stitches open. It had to hurt him, but he wouldn’t stop. Before it was over, we both had his blood all over us. It was like he was tryin’ ta tear himself apart … I hated doin’ it, but I had to make him see! And when he did, I don’t know, it was like a light clicked on inside him. He knew he couldn’t keep goin’ on like that. And he admitted that he needs help. Even said he wants it.” He stared at her, his eyes filled with pain. “It was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done, y’know?”

“I know,” she said softly, and she did; hell, she could see it in him now. “But he needed you to do it.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, letting his head fall back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Helluva thing, havin’ to do that to a friend.”

She lifted her chin, arched that brow and stared pointedly at him. “Helluva thing, havin’ a friend who’d do that for you.”

7~7~7~7

Vin didn’t open his eyes when the door opened and soft footfalls sounded against the floor. He knew it wasn’t Chris returning from his search for coffee, but figured it was Joy, the nurse with the warm smile and gentle hands, come back to check the progress of his IV. So he just let himself keep drifting, a little more than half asleep, until cool fingers gripped his wrist at his pulse and a familiar but unexpected voice jolted him into full wakefulness.

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” Dr. Stone quipped mildly, relieved by the strong, steady rate of his pulse. “Folks in the lab are beginning to talk.” She felt his whole body jerk, heard the sharp gasp escape him and immediately pressed a firm but comforting hand to his shoulder to keep him from flying off her table. “Easy, Vin,” she soothed, smiling into his wide eyes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He stared up at her a moment and then lay back, trying to will his heartbeat and breathing into more normal rhythms. “’S all right,” he rasped shakily, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. “Reckon that ain’t hard ta do these days.”

She heard the scratchiness of his voice and released his wrist. “Larabee’s got some juice for you, but at the moment he’s trying to glare a coffeemaker into brewing faster. How about some water?”

He nodded slightly. “Sounds good.” He watched warily as she turned away and went to the sink nearby. “Reckon he’s still a few cups shy of his mornin’ gallon,” he drawled. “Hope he don’t burn a hole in yer pot.”

She pulled a small paper cup from its dispenser and filled it with water, then carried it back to him, a smile hovering at her mouth. “If he does, he’ll have half a dozen caffeine-addicted nurses to deal with.” She held out the cup to him. “I don’t think even he’s tough enough to risk that.”

He eyed the cup steadily, waiting for the pill that invariably came with it. “So what’m I takin’ this time?”

She frowned in confusion at the odd question. “What? Oh!” Her brow cleared and she held her other hand out palm-up. “See? Nothing up my sleeve.” She smiled. “Just water, I promise.”

He studied her a moment longer, then sat up slowly, wincing as the familiar waves of aches, pains, pulls and twinges rolled through his body. “Shit!” he whispered tightly, stopping halfway between up and down.

“Here, let me help before you undo something else.” She quickly set the cup on the small silver instrument tray nearby, then leaned forward to assist him. “This is what happens when you beat yourself to a pulp on a daily basis,” she lectured gently, holding him carefully and easing him slowly upright. Once he was sitting, she stepped back and studied him critically, not liking what she saw; still too pale, still too thin, worn through in ways not even her best stitching could fix. With a sigh and a shake of her dark head, she retrieved the cup from the tray and handed it to him. “How are you doin’, Tanner?” she asked softly, worriedly.

He stared down into the cup and shrugged. “Lotsa ways I could answer that,” he breathed, “an’ ain’t none of ’em good.” He raised the cup to his mouth and drank down the water, grateful for its cool, wet slide against his dry throat. When it was gone, he lowered the cup and again stared down into it, absently licking his lips as he suddenly realized just how thirsty he was.

“Want more?”

He nodded slightly and held out the cup. “If it ain’t any trouble.”

A retort rose to her lips about his already having been more than trouble but she suppressed it, suspecting he wasn’t quite up to their usual verbal sparring. She took the cup from him and winked. “I think I can manage without straining myself.”

He watched as she returned to the sink and refilled the cup, then turned and brought it back to him. As he took it from her, he forced his eyes to meet hers and said softly, “Thanks, Doc. And …” He winced and glanced down at his right hand, then lifted his gaze back to hers. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded slowly, studying him intently as he drank and noting again the fresh bruises at his left temple and right jaw. “You know you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she said quietly. “First of all, you don’t deserve it and, second, you’re just not strong enough to take it. Believe me, Vin,” she said with a soft urgency, “right now it wouldn’t take very much at all to land you back here in bad shape. There’s only so much that even you can survive.”

He grimaced and looked away, crumpling the empty cup and tossing it half-heartedly toward the trash can. “I’m more worried ’bout what I could do t’ the others–”

“The others are big boys,” she cut in. “They can take care of themselves. You’re the one who’s in danger here.” When his disbelieving eyes slewed back to hers, she scowled and reached out, pressing her hand firmly against his ribcage. He hissed and jerked away, and she arched a triumphant brow. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” she asked in an uncompromising voice. “Takes a good while for broken ribs to heal. Takes even longer when you insist on throwing yourself against walls, doors, floors and other people. You’re this close,” she raised her thumb and forefinger and held them only a slight distance apart, “to re-breaking those ribs and shoving one or more of them into a lung. For someone who hates being hooked up to machines so much, you’re courting that chest tube awfully hard!”

“Doc–”

“I’m not finished,” she said, refusing to be interrupted. She reached down and tapped his right hand with a slender forefinger. “This is your gun hand, isn’t it?” she asked, knowing full well that it was. “Do you have any idea what kind of damage you can do to it if you keep up this kind of abuse? Do you really want to put yourself through another surgery? Or, worse, damage it beyond the ability of surgery to fix?” She folded her arms against her chest and eyed him sternly. “Have you taken a good look at yourself lately, Tanner? There’s barely enough there to cast a shadow! You’re piling on new hurts before the old ones have healed, you’re shedding blood you can’t afford to lose … Damn it, you are not made of steel!” she snapped in frustration and worry. “You are flesh and blood like everyone else, and you can die like everyone else!”

“Don’t ya think I know that?” he shot back harshly as bitterness and shame washed through him. “Yeah, Doc, I have looked at m’self lately. This mornin’, as a matter of fact. Stood in front’a that mirror an’ jist stared whilst I bled from wounds I gave myself. And I may not be the smartest sonuvabitch around, but even I knew there was jist somethin’ wrong with that. So I don’t need you tellin’ me what a goddamn mess I am!”

Her anger deserted her in the face of his, as she saw in his wounded blue eyes complete and painful understanding of exactly how far he’d fallen. Sorrow for him flooded her and she took a step closer to the bed, laying a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He flinched violently beneath her touch and tried to pull away, but she kept her hand where it rested.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her dark eyes soft. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. But I just …” She winced and shook her head slowly, then finally withdrew her hand and slipped it and the other into the pockets of her lab coat. “Do you know,” she sighed, “that I can still remember exactly what you looked like that day they wheeled what was left of you into my trauma room? I could list for you right now every single injury we had to fix, every wound we had to close, every fracture we had to reduce. I had my hands inside you for so long that by some cultures we’re probably married now. And it wasn’t just me. You had a plastic surgeon, a neurosurgeon, a cardiothoracic surgeon, an orthopedic surgeon, our top anesthesiologist and an army of nurses, and we all slaved over you for nine hours. You died on us twice on that table, did you know that? And even when it was done, when we finally closed you up …”

Her voice caught and she swallowed hard, remembering only too clearly the grim horror of that afternoon and evening. “We still fully expected you to die,” she rasped. “We did our best, worked one miracle after another in that operating room, and came out of there knowing that our best hadn’t been nearly good enough, that despite everything we’d done we were still going to lose you. Only we didn’t; you survived. And I still can’t explain how or why. But I’m not sure they really matter. I do know this, though.” She drew a hand out of her pocket and set it once more on his shoulder, regarding him through sympathetic eyes when he tensed and had to hold himself in place. “You did survive, Vin,” she said softly. “Some brutal bastards did their very best to kill you, but, for whatever reason, they failed. I know they did a lot of damage, damage that no surgeon can fix, but, please, Vin, please, don’t do to yourself what they couldn’t. Please don’t make me have to look into the faces of the people who love you and tell them that we lost you after all.”

“What makes ya so sure I ain’t lost already?” he whispered, no longer trying to evade her touch but still not looking at her.

She gently stroked his arm, wondering exactly when and how this most maddening of patients had gotten past her professional detachment and become someone she truly cared about. “Chris said you fought him this morning, that you were extremely pissed off at him. That true?”

He shrugged one shoulder, relaxing against his will beneath her soothing touch. “Reckon so.”

“Why?”

He thought a moment, then shrugged again. “He grabbed me, dragged me off my bed. I don’t like bein’ grabbed, an’ I sure as hell don’t like bein’ dragged.” He lifted his head then to face her, a belligerent set to his jaw. “Done had enough of that in my life, an’ I won’t take no more. Not even from Larabee. He wants ta manhandle me,” his blue eyes narrowed slightly and a hard edge crept into his quiet voice, “he’s gonna have ta fight fer it jist like anybody else would. I’m done havin’ folks toss me around jist ’cause they think they can.”

She heard the iron in his voice, saw the glint of steel in his eyes and gave him a smug smile. “And that, Tanner, is exactly how I know you’re not lost yet.”

7~7~7~7

Chris glanced across the cab of the Ram to Vin, taking advantage of a brief lull in the traffic to appraise his friend’s state. He’d feared that the morning’s trauma would have Tanner withdrawing into himself once more, but that didn’t seem to be happening. So far he hadn’t shown any signs of shutting down, wasn’t pulling away or huddling into himself; in fact, he actually looked to be resting. He’d maneuvered himself into the corner between his door and seat and, half-turned toward Chris, was sunk into a loose slouch. His head lay against the back of his seat, his eyes closed and his face relaxed, and if he wasn’t asleep he was at least at peace. His bandaged right hand was cradled protectively between his left one and his stomach, and his left leg, brace long forgotten back at the ranch, was stretched out as straight as he could manage across the seat. Chris loosed the breath he’d been holding, smiled slightly and returned his attention to the road.

Tanner might be worn to the bone, but at least he was here.

Chris watched the flow of traffic for a few minutes more, then reached out and turned on the stereo, pressing the preset button for the country station Vin preferred but keeping the volume low. He then returned that hand to the wheel, sat back in his seat and finally allowed himself to relax. And was promptly startled by a soft, raspy drawl.

“Thanks, cowboy.”

He shot a sharp look at Vin, was surprised to see two blue eyes regarding him steadily, but immediately returned his own gaze to the road. “You’re the only man I know who can be right beside somebody and still sneak up on him,” he grumbled.

“Sorry. Nex’ time I’ll jiggle my keys or somethin’.”

Chris raised a blond brow and slanted another look at his friend. “As many drugs as you’ve got racin’ through your system, you’d better not even have your keys!” he warned.

A half-smile teased Vin’s lips. “C’n still hot-wire anything on wheels.”

Chris scowled deeply and shook his head. “You just had to remind me. Between your hot-wirin’, Ezra’s lock-pickin’ and JD’s way around security systems, it’s a wonder the three of you aren’t behind bars and the rest of us aren’t crazy.”

Vin gave an innocent shrug. “’Least we use our powers for good.”

“Most of the time,” Chris countered dourly. He glanced again across the cab and turned serious. “Thanks for what?”

Vin sighed and dropped his gaze to his bandaged hand, then lifted it once more. Chris had turned his attention back to the road and Vin studied his profile for long moments, seeing in its chiseled lines the physical manifestation of the strength he’d so come to depend on in this man. “Fer not ever once lettin’ go,” he said softly.

Chris’s heart and gut clenched hard at those words and, for a moment, it was all he could do to keep the truck from swerving off the road. But he controlled the wheel with a white-knuckled grip, controlled himself with that same force, and willed into submission the knot that had surged into his throat and the tears that had leapt into his eyes.

“Can’t let go,” he finally managed to rasp. “I’ve already lost … too many people in my life. Losin’ you …” He swallowed hard and shook his head tightly. “It’s just never been an option.”

Vin continued to stare at Larabee’s profile, not at all certain just what it was in him that the man considered so worth saving, but deeply grateful for whatever it was. “Wish I had the words ta tell ya how much that means,” he said softly. “Reckon I jist got so used ta folks thinkin’ I’s too much work, not worth the bother …” He winced and bowed his head, stung anew by the old pain. “Guess I started believin’ it m’self.”

“Then maybe it’s time you stopped.” At his exit, Chris checked his rearview mirrors and swung the truck off the highway and onto the smaller two-lane road that led to the ranch. “Right now, yeah, you are a lotta work,” he said honestly, glancing back across the cab at Tanner. “You’ve got problems, you’ve got needs, and takin’ care of ’em’s a lotta work for all of us. But you’re worth every bit of it, Vin. Getting you back is worth every bit of it, and I need you to believe that because, no matter how I try, I cannot do this without you. I’ll never let go of you, but I can’t pull you out unless you help.”

“I know that,” Vin sighed, dropping his head back against the seat and staring up at the roof of the truck. “I do. I know I need help. I jist …” His words trailed off and he sighed again.

“You just what?” Chris asked gently.

Vin was silent for long moments, trying to fit his fears to words. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, then absently raised his left hand to his hair. But even as the urge to pull came over him, he clenched the hand into a fist and forced it down, shoving it under his thigh.

Chris watched from the corner of his eye and felt a strong surge of jubilation. Maybe it was only a small victory. Then again, just now he wasn’t sure there were any “small” victories.

“Y’all keep talkin’ about gettin’ me back,” Vin breathed at last. “But …”

“But what?” Chris prompted when Tanner again fell silent.

Vin opened his eyes and turned his head slowly toward Chris, blue eyes dark with uncertainty. “All this shit’s been a part a’ me fer so long,” he said softly, his voice unsteady. “What if … what if there ain’t … any ‘me’ without it? What if there’s nothin’ left ta get back?”

Chris exhaled forcefully, feeling almost as if he’d been gut-punched. He knew that fear all too well, had faced it himself as he’d struggled to come to grips with Sarah and Adam’s deaths. Stripped of his grief, his rage and his guilt, would there be anything left of him at all?

He drew a deep, steadying breath, then wheeled the truck over onto the unpaved side of the road and eased it to a stop. He put it in park and killed the engine, took a moment more and then turned to Vin. The fear and vulnerability in his friend’s eyes drove a sharp pain through his heart.

“I know what you mean,” he said, voice and eyes filled with true understanding. “You didn’t want any of this, you don’t even understand it, but … it’s what you’ve got.” He shrugged. “Hell, sometimes it feels like all you’ve got. Sometimes,” his eyes darkened and suffering still too keenly felt crossed his face, “it seems like there’s nothing left but pain or anger or fear. You can’t remember a time when they weren’t part of you and you’re not sure you’ll know how to live without them. As bad as they are, at least they’re familiar. They’re what you know.”

Vin nodded slowly, startled by Chris’s understanding. “Makes sense when you say it,” he murmured. “Don’t seem quite so stupid–”

“It’s not stupid, Vin,” Chris assured him quickly, fervently. “Yeah, getting help sounds good, healing sounds good, shuckin’ off the past and steppin’ into a clear, bright future sounds good, but it’s also scary as hell. I know. Believe me, partner, when Buck first brought up the idea of counseling, I fought it tooth and nail, swore up and down that hell would freeze before I’d darken that therapist’s doorstep. Because I was afraid. All I had after Sarah and Adam died was my pain. My grief, my rage, my guilt. That’s all; I’d buried everything else with them. And all of a sudden Buck wanted me to get rid of them.” His face contorted into a mask of pain and he shook his head slowly. “I didn’t wanta lose ’em because I didn’t know how to live without ’em. I’d forgotten. And I just didn’t think I had the strength or the courage to learn yet another new way of living.”

“But ya did,” Vin said softly, watching his friend through wide eyes and envying the strength he saw in him. Strength he didn’t think he had himself.

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, nodding slowly, “I did. But it didn’t happen overnight and it didn’t come without a lot of pain and a lot of setbacks. Therapy isn’t a miracle cure, Vin. It won’t solve all your problems overnight. Hell, it won’t ‘solve’ your problems at all! But, if you let it, it will help you understand them and work through them. Kathi didn’t take away my grief or my anger or my guilt; she couldn’t. But she did help me find ways of dealing with them other than drinking them, and myself, to death. And she helped me see that there really was more of ‘me’ left than I’d thought.”

He released his seatbelt and leaned closer, needing Tanner to believe him. “You are still there, Vin,” he said hoarsely, staring intently at the younger man. “You have to be, or you never would’ve survived any of this. You’re not defined just by what those bastards did to you, or by what you did to them. You’re not just the sum total of the things you’ve had to do to survive. They’re aspects of you, yes, but they’re not you. There’s so much more to you than that, and I know that somewhere under all the shit that’s risen to the surface, you are still there.” He leaned closer still, then reached out and gripped Vin’s arm in a strong hand. “And we will find you,” he swore. “We will get you back.”

Vin stared down at the hand holding his arm, then lifted his gaze to the green one fixed laser-like upon him, seeing no give in either of them. “Ya w … ya won’t … let go?” he whispered, blue eyes pleading. “’Cause I don’t think I c’n do this on my own–”

Chris tightened his grip and narrowed his eyes. “You won’t have to,” he vowed in a low, fierce voice. “We won’t let go of you, Vin, not ever. Remember, partner, always remember – no one gets left behind.”

7~7~7~7

Chris turned the Ram onto the rutted gravel drive leading to the house and, from the corner of his eye, saw Vin’s body tense. Slowing the big truck’s progress, he turned his head and threw an anxious glance at his friend. “You all right?”

Vin stared at the house and swallowed hard, his stomach suddenly turning over in a series of slow, queasy rolls. “They’re all still there, ain’t they?” he asked softly.

Chris braked to a stop, then shifted to park and turned to face Vin more fully. “They’re all worried, so I don’t imagine they’ve left yet.” He studied Tanner a few moments more. “Wanta talk about it?”

Vin tore his gaze from the house and bowed his head, plucking nervously at the bandage covering his right hand with the fingers of his left until Chris reached out and laid his hand over them to still their movements. “Likely you’ll think it’s stupid,” he rasped finally.

“Haven’t thought that about anything you’ve said yet.” He squeezed Vin’s hand firmly. “Don’t know why I’d start now.”

Vin looked up sharply at that and was almost undone by the faith in him and worry for him mirrored in Larabee’s eyes. Tears stung his own eyes and he bowed his head again, then freed his hand from Chris’s grasp and raised it to wipe away the damning wetness. “Shit, I’m a real mess!” he breathed hoarsely, irritated with himself. “Cain’t seem ta hold nothin’ in these days.”

“Maybe that’s good,” Chris said with a slight shrug. “You’ve held too much in for too long and it’s taken a helluva toll. Maybe for now you just need to let everything out.”

“Like drainin’ poison from a wound,” Vin sighed.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He watched Tanner a few moments more, then urged gently, “C’mon, spill it. Why are you so worried about the others bein’ here?”

Vin went back to picking at the bandage and again Chris had to stop him. With an exasperated sigh, Vin shoved his hand once more under his thigh and wondered just when the hell he’d become so fidgety. Then, knowing Chris was still watching him, still waiting, he licked his lips and nodded faintly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Hell, he was scattered, too. Fidgety and scattered and God knew what else …

“I hate this,” he rasped tightly. He lifted his head sharply and stared at Chris as anger, frustration, shame and bitterness warred within him. “I ain’t comfortable in my own skin no more! I feel like ever’thing’s stretched way too tight and ever’ nerve I got’s right there on the outside, jist waitin’ fer somebody ta drag sandpaper across ’em, I feel all itchy an’ jumpy an’ I jist know ever’body’s starin’ at me–”

“Nobody’s starin’ at you,” Chris assured him, his voice gentle but not at all patronizing. “We watch you because we’re worried, but we’re not starin’. I’m sorry if that bothers you, but–”

“Naw, that ain’t … that ain’t it,” he sighed. “I jist … Shit!” he exhaled sharply.

“It’s all right,” Chris soothed, “just take your time.”

Vin loosed an unsteady breath and returned his gaze to the waiting house. “Do you know,” he mused softly, “this is my third hospital discharge in less than a week? Hell, that’s gotta be a record even fer me.” He let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes. “I gotta be drivin’ y’all crazy.”

Chris frowned slightly, mulling over Tanner’s rambling words and trying to put together their meaning. When he thought he had, his frown deepened and he shot a disbelieving stare at his friend. “You’re worried about us?” he blurted, startled.

Vin opened his eyes and turned his face toward Larabee. “Ya gonna tell me all this ain’t takin’ a toll on y’all?”

Chris opened his mouth to say that very thing, then closed it when he recognized it for the lie it was. And he just didn’t have it in him to lie to Vin.

“Thought so,” Vin sighed, returning his stare to the house. “I never wanted this,” he murmured. “Never wanted y’all ta get sucked down inta my shit, never wanted y’all ta get caught in the crossfire ’tween me an’ my demons. Never wanted y’all ta see how fucked up I really am.”

Chris nodded slightly and let his own gaze drift toward the house where the rest of his team, the rest of his family, waited. “I know,” he said quietly, reflectively. “It’s hard lettin’ people in like that, hard lettin’ ’em see inta you, see through you. Scary as hell. If you can hold ’em at a distance, you can fool ’em, let ’em see only what you want ’em to. Don’t have to worry about people gettin’ into your shit. You can have everything just the way you want it – clean, neat, orderly. Safe. Above all, safe.”

Vin turned back to him and frowned. “Y’ say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Chris shrugged lightly. “No, not bad. Just not … right.” He turned in the seat so he could face Vin more fully, his eyes clear, his face relaxed, open. “I’ve got this friend,” he began easily, “big guy. Loud. Has a habit of gettin’ in everybody’s shit and makin’ a total mess of what we’ve all worked so hard to put into nice, neat little piles. The man doesn’t know the meaning of the words orderly or safe. Some folks climb out on a limb; hell, he lives there. And he closes his eyes and leaps off without lookin’ every chance he gets.”

A smile quirked at the corners of Vin’s mouth. “Think I might know this guy.”

“Yeah, you do,” Chris agreed with a nod. Then he arched a brow and speared Vin with a stare. “Now, you tell me your life would be better without him in it.”

Vin’s eyes widened in shock and he stared at Chris as if the man had sprouted a second head. “Hell, I cain’t do that!” he protested. “Buck–”

“Is Buck,” Chris interrupted, “and when you’re his friend, there is no such thing as ‘your’ shit. Because he just takes that right in with you. And there are four other men and one very stubborn old woman up at that house who feel exactly the same way.” Green eyes gleamed warmly and a smile hovered about his wide mouth. “And oddly enough, there are two more idiots in this truck just like ’em.” He saw the denial coming and forestalled it with a subtle lift of two brows. “Where were you last year on what would’ve been mine and Sarah’s fifteenth anniversary?” Vin clamped his mouth tightly shut and narrowed his eyes, and Chris’s brows climbed higher. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Hell, I was here an’ you damn well know it!” Vin shot back testily. “Spent the whole goddamn weekend–”

“Wadin’ waist-high inta my shit,” Chris finished for him, “and seein’ how fucked up I was.” He eyed his friend steadily. “Did that take a toll on you?”

Vin, too, had to be honest. “Yeah,” he breathed, remembered sorrow clouding his eyes. “Hated like hell seein’ ya hurtin’ like that an’ not bein’ able ta do anything about it.”

“But you stayed.”

“Well, hell, yeah!” Vin answered indignantly. “What’d ya think, that jist ’cause it was hard on me, I’d … leave …”

“Bingo,” Chris said softly as understanding dawned on the other man. “Yeah, Vin, they’re all still up there; hell, it’d take a restraining order served by an infantry division to make ’em leave. And, yeah, they’re all gonna be starin’. But it’s only because they wanta make sure for themselves that you’re all right and because they wanta see if there’s anything they can do for you if you’re not.” He shook his head slowly, willing his friend to understand. “It’s too late to worry about us stayin’ outta the crossfire, partner. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly innocent bystanders here. We’ve been throwin’ ourselves in front of those bullets just to stop as many of ’em as possible from reachin’ you.”

Vin swallowed hard, his eyes again filling shamefully. “Yeah,” he whispered unsteadily, “I have noticed. Cain’t rightly say I understand it, but …” His voice broke as his throat tightened, and a single tear slid down his cheek. “Gotta say, cowboy, I’m almighty grateful for it.”