As Chris opened the passenger door of the Ram, Vin drew a deep breath and braced himself, still somewhat uncertain about the reception awaiting him inside. Or, more precisely, about his own reaction to that reception. He’d told Nettie that there was no predicting what would set him off, and, much as he hated it, he knew it was the truth. When his past had come crashing back in upon him, shattering that door in his mind, it had shattered his self-control, too, and now there simply was no telling what he could take and what would prove too much.

And Lord knew the five men and one woman in that house could be an overwhelming force …

Chris easily read the uncertainty chasing across his friend’s face and stepped closer to him, leaning against the truck’s door frame. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Just take your time. Ain’t nobody in there goin’ anywhere.”

Vin exhaled heavily and dropped his head back against the padded neck rest, grimacing deeply. “I feel like a damn fool,” he rasped. “Ain’t like we’re bustin’ in on a bunch’a gunrunners. Hell, they’re my friends–”

“And they understand,” Chris assured him. “We all understand.”

Vin turned his head and studied Larabee for long moments, remembering everything the man had shared with him about his own struggles with a hurtful past. Then he thought of the others inside that house, each man a collection of broken pieces sometimes barely held together, and nodded slowly, relaxing. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I reckon y’all do. Mebbe more’n I ever knew.” A weakly teasing grin crept across his pale face. “Reckon it’s all right then, me bein’ a mess.”

Chris laughed and reached out, setting a strong hand on Tanner’s shoulder and squeezing firmly. “Wouldn’t be one of us if you weren’t,” he said with a wink. “Now, get your ass outta my truck before Nettie comes stormin’ out here. I know she’s got food for ya in there, and I ain’t about ta get shot for keepin’ you away from it.”

Vin arched a brow and shook his head slowly, regarding the older man sorrowfully. “Pitiful,” he drawled, dragging out the word. “’S jist plumb pitiful. Ol’ Bad-Ass Larabee shakin’ in his boots ’cause he’s scared of a li’l ol’ woman–”

“And her shotgun,” Chris added pointedly. “And I’ve seen you back down from her in a hurry, Tanner, so don’t you get uppity with me. I mean,” he arched a golden brow, “I still haven’t told her that chicken and dumplings is not on your approved diet.”

Vin’s smug look melted into a mask of horror. “Ya wouldn’t!” he gasped strickenly. “Aw, hell, Larabee, that’s low even fer you!”

Chris shrugged easily. “Just lookin’ out for your health is all,” he said mildly. “And I’m sure Nettie wouldn’t mind makin’ you a spinach salad, maybe some steamed broccoli–”

“Shit, that ain’t food!” Vin protested in disgust. “That’s what food eats!”

Chris had to laugh at his friend’s deeply outraged look and tone. “And you call me pitiful! You’d sell your soul for a plate of her chicken and dumplings!”

“’Least I got a soul ta sell,” Vin shot back, scowling fiercely at his supposed friend. He fumbled with the latch of his seatbelt, trying to get it to release him and failing. “Unlike some folks that get their jollies from tormentin’ the hurt an’ helpless.”

“Helpless?” Chris scoffed. “You? Since when?”

“Since yer stupid fuckin’ truck won’t let me out!” Vin snapped, too irritated by his imprisonment to panic over it. “I swear ta God, Larabee, one day I’m jist gonna shoot the damn thing off–”

“Yeah, and you’ll be shootin’ off a whole lot more than your seatbelt. Now, just stop,” he leaned into the truck and swatted Tanner’s hands away from the latch, “and let me. It just takes a little patience–”

“I’m gonna die in here then,” Vin groaned, dropping his head back against the padded rest. “I’m gonna starve–”

“No, ya won’t,” Chris growled, working with the latch but having no better luck than Vin. “I’ll shoot ya first, put us both out of our misery.”

“You’re a real humanitarian, ain’tcha?” He rolled his eyes as Larabee continued to struggle with the belt. “Y’know, I bet if ya wore yer jeans a mite looser, then ya’d be able ta pry yer wallet outta yer back pocket an’ pay ta get this damned thing fixed!”

As the two fought with the seatbelt – and each other – the porch door opened and JD rushed out, his young face anxious. He’d been watching from inside the den and was worried that something had happened to Vin. As he reached the edge of the porch, though, understanding dawned. Chris had parked the truck close to the house to spare Vin a long walk on his bad knee, and JD could plainly hear every curse and threat exchanged by the pair. He relaxed and leaned against a support post, grinning happily at the venom flowing between the two friends.

Moments later Josiah wandered out, followed by Buck. Sanchez frowned in puzzlement at the sight of Chris bent over Vin’s lap while Vin pelted him with a blistering stream of curses, all of which Chris countered with an equally foul fluency. Buck, however, realizing at once what had happened, and unable to resist adding to Larabee and Tanner’s aggravation, bounded to JD’s side and grabbed his head between big hands, one of them covering the boy’s eyes.

“Don’t look, son!” he ordered loudly, his words and their meaning easily reaching the two snarling men in the truck. “You’re too young ta see such things!” His words drew a one-fingered response from Vin and a filthy curse from Chris, which only encouraged him. “I know it’s been a while for both of ya, but can’t y’all at least get a room? There’s young’uns here, y’know!”

“Stop it, Buck, lemme go!” JD protested, clawing Wilmington’s hand away from his face. “I know what’s goin’ on and it’s not what you think!”

Buck dropped his hand but lifted two dark brows as he stared at his roommate. “And just how do you know what I think?”

JD snorted and rolled his eyes. “Jeez, Buck, everybody knows what you think! I mean, you only ever think of one thing.”

Buck gasped and fell back a step, his eyes widening, his right hand flying to his heart. “JD, I… I’m hurt–”

“Our young brother is right, though,” Josiah put in calmly. “Your brain does tend to run along a single and well-traveled track.” He turned his attention back to the truck, watched the battle there for a few moments more and frowned thoughtfully. “Vin’s not panicking, is he?”

“Nope,” JD answered, wincing at a particularly painful-sounding threat from the sharpshooter. “Sounds pretty lucid to me.” He turned to Josiah. “That’s a good sign, right?”

The profiler nodded. “It is. Well,” he amended after a heartbeat, “unless you’re Chris.”

“And just what in tarnation is goin’ on here?” demanded a stern voice from the doorway.

As one, Josiah, Buck and JD wheeled about to see Nettie emerging from the house, flanked by Ezra and Nathan. The medic was already pursing his lips and shaking his head, while Ezra took in the scene before him with a casual glance, then extended his arm across Nettie and held his hand palm-up before Nathan. Jackson pursed his lips more tightly still, then dug his wallet out of his pocket and deposited a five-dollar bill into the Southerner’s hand.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he growled.

“Then your life must be a constant hell,” Ezra drawled smoothly and with great satisfaction as he pulled his billfold from the inner pocket of his sport coat and deposited the bill inside it. “Are they anywhere near extricating Mr. Tanner from the clutches of that recalcitrant restraint yet?”

“I think I just heard Chris snarl somethin’ about a hacksaw,” JD said.

“Oh, good Lord!” Ezra groaned. “Is there no finesse left in this world?”

Nettie gazed up at him and lifted her chin. “You go ‘finesse’ my boy outta there, fancy man, and I’ll bake you a pecan pie all for yourself.”

Ezra straightened, his green eyes widening. “Your bourbon pecan pie?” he breathed hopefully, vividly recalling the treat from various holiday dinners.

She gave him a small smile, oddly touched to see in his face the almost childlike longing she so often saw in Vin’s. “Is there any other kind?”

He grinned broadly, eyes gleaming, then collected himself with an effort, appalled by his lapse. Despite his best efforts, though, the smile continued to pull at his lips as he bowed gallantly to her. “Your servant, madame.”

“Hmph,” she snorted, folding her arms primly against her chest although her eyes gleamed warmly. “That’ll be the day.”

He straightened at that, touched two fingers to an imaginary hat brim, then swept away from her and pushed his way between Buck and JD. As he approached the truck, he slipped his hand once more into his jacket and drew a small black leather case from an inner pocket. “Mr. Larabee,” he called coolly, “I believe you’ve done enough damage here. Please, unhand that belt and allow a professional to work.”

Chris turned and fixed a hot glare upon his undercover agent, but Vin heaved an audible sigh of relief. Larabee whipped back around at that and settled his seething stare upon the Texan. “And just what the hell makes you think he’ll do any better?”

Vin chuffed softly as he returned that stare easily. “Hell, it’s a lock, ain’t it? And that is Ezra.”

Standish flashed a gold-toothed grin. “Why, thank you for your testimonial, Mr. Tanner. I am delighted that you have such confidence in my abilities.”

“Jist get me outta here, Ez,” Vin asked softly, his anger cracking to reveal the anxiety beneath. “It’s startin’ ta get ta me.”

As could nothing else, that quiet plea moved Chris aside and brought Ezra up in one smooth step, both equally determined to spare Vin any further anxiety. Ezra opened the case, drew out a slender probe, then handed the case to Chris and bent over the latch, all without a word. He slid the probe into the latch, narrowed his eyes and turned his head to one side, as if listening, and moved the tip of the tool deftly inside the mechanism. Then, with a wink and a smile up at Vin, still holding the probe exactly so in his right hand, he took the latch in his left one and depressed the button, releasing the belt.

Vin couldn’t help the hard, unsteady gust of relief that escaped him as the belt finally retracted away from his body, releasing him from his imprisonment. He’d managed somehow to hold his rising panic in check, but it had been there nonetheless. “Thanks, Ez,” he breathed, the depth of his gratitude written plainly on his face. “I really ’preciate it.”

Ezra straightened, took the small case back from Chris and replaced the probe inside it. “You are most welcome,” he said graciously as he pocketed the case. “To be perfectly frank, however, I must confess that my motives were not entirely selfless.” At Vin’s questioning look, he leaned forward and whispered, “Mrs. Wells is a formidable force. And her bourbon pecan pie is the stuff of dreams.”

Vin gave a shaky laugh at that and patted his friend’s arm. “Found yer weakness, has she? I reckon she’s done suckered you in, too.”

He snorted and drew upright in sharp affront. “My dear Mr. Tanner, no one ‘suckers in’ Ezra P. Standish! And most certainly not that wizened old crone. Why, the very idea is preposterous!”

Vin smirked as the “wizened old crone” stepped up noiselessly behind Ezra and set a hand to his back, startling him. As Standish whirled around, Nettie nailed him with a fierce stare. “Well, don’t ever let it be said that I ain’t one ta pay my debts. I figure you’ve earned your pie, fancy man.” She cocked her gray head slightly to one side and studied him appraisingly, then added, “Maybe you’d like some of that fancy New Orleans coffee with it?”

Ezra’s eyes widened and his mouth very nearly watered. “F… fancy… New Orleans coffee?” he repeated, his voice quavering with shameful anticipation.

Nettie nodded once. “I got a niece down there, she sent it to me. From some famous outdoor café down there. She said they sell these little things kinda like doughnuts–”

“Beignet,” he breathed reverently, his eyes glazing over. “Oh, dear Lord, you are offering me coffee from the Café du Monde…”

She arched two brows. “Provided you don’t mind acceptin’ it from a ‘wizened old crone.’”

He choked and coughed, and Chris slapped him soundly on the back. “Nope,” Larabee gloated as the Southerner glared, “nobody suckers Ezra P. Standish.”

Ezra muttered unintelligibly under his breath and stalked off, again pushing his way between Buck and JD as they wandered up to the truck. “Y’know, ya could just go around!” Buck called after him.

“You all right, Vin?” JD asked as he stepped up to his friend’s side.

Vin looked into the clear hazel eyes, saw the concern in them and gave a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m all right,” he rasped. “Reckon I’s jist feelin’ a mite trapped is all.” He winced. “Sorry fer makin’ a scene.”

JD shrugged lightly. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Everybody hates that seatbelt. I don’t know why Chris doesn’t just go ahead and get it fixed–” A throat cleared loudly just behind him and he swallowed hard, then turned a weak smile upon his boss. “I mean, y’know, someday, when he has time and all…”

“Smooth, JD, real smooth,” Buck sighed, shaking his head in despair. “Why don’t you just poke him with a sharp stick while you’re at it?”

“Well, you said he needs to fix it, too!” the boy insisted, rounding on his roommate. “You told me–”

Buck again clamped JD’s head between his hands, this time holding one over the boy’s mouth to muffle his words. “I said that Chris is a busy, busy man with more important things on his mind than that touchy seatbelt.” He smiled innocently at his old friend, who was staring daggers at him. “Kids today,” he said. “No respect for their elders. C’mon on, son,” he all but dragged JD toward the house, hand still over his mouth, “let’s go see if Ez needs help choking down any more of his pride.”

When the two had gone, Chris turned to Vin, his glare melting into a warm smile. “And you were worried that you’re too messed up for this bunch?”

Vin laughed softly, his blue eyes alight. “Reckon I don’t exactly stand out here, do I?” He turned his gaze to Nettie, who was studying him intently, and nodded slightly as her eyes locked on his. “I’m all right,” he assured her. “Doc stitched me back up, gave me a good talkin’ to about not beatin’ m’self up no more.”

Nettie stepped closer still and reached out, running callused but infinitely gentle fingers down one side of his newly bruised face. Her eyes looked deep into his, searching them, and a tender smile pulled at her mouth as she recognized the still-fragile but unmistakable resolve in them. He had a long way to go yet, but at least he had finally begun the journey.

Vin lifted his hand to hers and pressed it into his cheek, nestling his face into her palm and smiling softly. “I’m gonna be all right, Nettie,” he rasped. “I don’t know when or how, but I ain’t gonna let this beat me. I got a lotta work ta do, I know that, but I reckon it’s worth it. I’m worth it.”

Joyous relief flooded her heart at the new conviction behind his simple words. As a single tear slid down her seamed cheek, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “You surely are, son,” she whispered. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Vin leaned into her loving presence a few moments more, then pulled away slightly. “I reckon I got folks around me’ll help me remember,” he rasped, his gaze going once more to Chris.

Larabee winked and grinned. “We’re already workin’ on the schedule of daily reminders.”

“I got a reminder for ya right now,” Nathan declared as he and Josiah came up to join them. He stared stared hard at Vin and pointed a thick forefinger at the Texan’s left knee. “Isn’t there somethin’ you’re s’posed ta be wearin’ on that?”

“Aw, hell, Nate–”

“Don’t you ‘aw, hell,’ me, Vin Tanner! That knee ain’t gon’ heal if you keep messin’ around with it!” Nathan’s dark eyes shone with determination. “You’re gon’ put that brace on first thing when you get inside. An’ there’s a pair of crutches–”

“Crutches?” Vin yelped. “Where the hell did you find crutches?”

“I told him there were some down in the basement,” Chris put in smoothly, utterly unfazed by the dirty look Tanner shot him at his betrayal, “otherwise known as Larabee’s Medical Supply Depot. You’d be surprised what all’s down there.” An evil gleam kindled in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure there’s even a wheelchair somewhere.”

Vin’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he glared at his best friend. “I ain’t ridin’ no wheelchair.”

“Then you’d best start wearin’ that brace and usin’ them crutches,” Nathan warned. “That knee ain’t nowhere near healed, an’ the last thing you need is one more surgery!”

“I don’t need crutches–”

“What you need is a good shot of common sense–”

“I’m fixin’ ta give you a good shot–”

Chris leaned happily against the open door of his truck and watched with undisguised pleasure as Vin and Nathan argued, the big medic looming menacingly over the smaller sharpshooter and doing his best to intimidate him while Tanner continued to snap and snarl his defiance. Not so very long ago, Chris had feared that Vin no longer had this in him, that the spirit they’d all thought unbreakable had been shattered beyond repair. He’d watched in helpless sorrow as Vin had seemed to crumble in on himself, lost to a battle he no longer had the strength or the will to wage.

He’d never been more glad to be wrong in his life.

Josiah sidled up to him, propped an elbow on the top of the door and watched the argument with Chris, his blue eyes twinkling as his mouth pulled into a smile. “I’m sure there will come a day when I regret saying this, but it’s good to hear him spittin’ fire again. It suits him.” He glanced at Chris and nodded. “You did the right thing this morning, making him see what he was doin’ to himself.”

Chris never took his eyes from Vin, who was now jabbing a bony forefinger into Nathan’s broad chest and declaring that he could and would walk into the house under his own power, and an unmistakable peace and pride showed in the brilliant green depths. “I just stood him in front of that mirror, Josiah,” he said quietly. “He was the only one who could make himself see, and he did. He turned the corner on his own. He wants to come back to us. More importantly,” he turned his shining gaze up to the profiler, “he wants to come back to himself.”

“Well then,” Josiah breathed, his voice growing rough with emotion as intense gratitude rose through him, “I guess it’s a good thing he’s got so many folks around him willin’ to show him the way.”

7~7~7~7

True to his word Vin did walk, or more accurately hobble, into the house under his own power, stubbornly refusing any assistance. However, the moment he settled himself in his rocker, Chris stacked two pillows on the coffee table and stared at him until, with a sigh, he propped his left leg on them. Moments later Nathan appeared, still grumbling under his breath about “mule-headed Texas fools with more grit than sense,” and dropped to his knees to apply the knee brace with skilled fingers. Vin just sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the medic’s muttering and his teammates’ snickers wash over him and allowing himself a soft, contented sigh.

It was good to be home.

Despite his grumbling, Nathan felt something within himself unclench as he saw the peace written in Tanner’s wan face and felt the man’s frail body relaxing. Like the others, he’d been deeply worried about Vin’s psychological state, yet those concerns had been compounded by his anxieties for Tanner’s physical condition as well. Between his depression, the nightmares that interfered with his sleep and the extreme stress that every violent “episode” placed upon his weakened system, Vin’s body, still far from healed, was undergoing as much trauma as his mind. Add to that the outright abuse that Tanner seemed determined to inflict on himself, and Nathan had truly begun to fear for his friend’s survival.

But maybe, please God, maybe he could finally put such fears behind him.

Vin sensed the change in Jackson’s mood and opened his eyes, gazing into the medic’s dark ones. He searched them for long moments, read easily the guarded relief in them and smiled slightly. “’S all right, Nate,” he rasped softly. “I’m gonna try ta stop beatin’ m’self up. I know I ain’t done nothin’ ta deserve that. Used ta think I had; got so used ta hearin’ that I had it comin’ that I got ta where I b’lieved it. But now,” the first fragile traces of true conviction tinged his voice and rose in his eyes, “now I know they was wrong.” He swallowed and licked his lips, then nodded once. “Reckon it’s time I stopped punishin’ m’self fer what others done to me.”

“Halleluia!” Josiah breathed fervently from the sofa, raising his eyes heavenward.

Chris clenched his jaws hard and nodded tersely, pride and relief sweeping through him in hot, hard waves. He recognized what a major breakthrough such simple words indicated, understood what strength and courage it took for Vin to release his deathgrip on a past that, however painful, was all he knew and take those first, halting steps toward a future that, while so wonderfully promising, was so completely unknown. There’d be steps back, he knew that; Vin would falter and fall just as he had himself. But that was all right because, just as he had himself, Vin would always have someone with him ready to reach for him and help him back to his feet. Feeling more confident of that than he had of anything in a long, long time, he finally allowed himself to leave his place at Vin’s side to settle his tired body into the welcome embrace of his recliner. As he sat back, he felt a strong hand fall onto his shoulder and squeeze hard, and he looked up into Buck’s face to see a wealth of powerful emotions shining from it, not the least of which was the same unshakable conviction he felt in himself. Vin wouldn’t do this alone. None of them would ever do anything alone again.

Oblivious to the various reactions of those about them, Nathan locked his gaze onto Vin’s and leaned forward, his whole attention on the pale and battered young man before him. “Nobody deserves what you been through, Vin,” he said in a low voice gone thick with feeling. “No child, no man, nobody. Nobody deserves ta have your scars, nobody deserves ta know your pain, nobody deserves ta have ta make the choices that’ve been forced on you. Ain’t nobody ever had any of that comin’, least of all you.” He reached out and took Vin’s hand, cradling the thin, pale fingers gently between his larger, darker ones. “Ya got nothin’ ta punish yourself for,” he declared roughly, his voice breaking. “Instead, you oughtta be proud.” Tanner gave him a puzzled look and he smiled gently. “You survived, Vin,” he said softly, his dark eyes warm with feeling. “You fought back then, and you’re still fightin’ back now. You ain’t a victim no more. You’re a survivor, an’ you should be proud of yourself for that.” He squeezed his friend’s hand firmly. “God knows I am.”

Vin stared at Nathan for long, long moments, feeling the man’s words touching on a part of himself he’d almost forgotten existed. Tears filled his eyes and slid down his cheeks as that part of him awoke, as he remembered why he’d fought back so desperately all those years ago. It came to him now as sharply and as clearly as it had then, stirred back to life by Nathan’s words, by his faith. By the faith of all these men who’d never for one moment left him alone.

“What they done was wrong,” he whispered, never realizing he spoke the words aloud. “I deserved better from ’em.”

Nathan smiled through his own tears and lifted a hand to wipe a gentle thumb across Vin’s wet cheek. “Yeah, you did,” he breathed, deeply grateful that Tanner now understood that. “You deserved better from a lotta folks. You been left ta carry all this alone for far too long, but that’s all over now. We gon’ see ta that.”

Vin gave a small, tremulous smile and laid a hand on Nathan’s strong forearm. “I know that,” he said, his voice soft and unsteady yet filled with absolute certainty. “Took me a while, but I finally understand that.” He tore his gaze from Nathan and swept it slowly around the den to the five other men and one woman scattered through it, his eyes lingering on each face before moving on to the next. “I gotta say,” he rasped, “y’all beat anything I ever seen in my life. I never wanted y’all ta know how fucked up I was ’cause I jist figgered ya’d do like ever’body else always has an’ run as fast and as far from me as ya could. Only I didn’t think I could take that. Not again. Especially not from y’all. So I figgered what y’all didn’t know couldn’t hurt me an’ jist kep’ it all in.” He winced and bowed his head, instinctively wrapping his arms around his chest. “Sure as hell never figgered on y’all findin’ out like this,” he whispered.

Nettie went immediately to him and bent to gather him into her arms, holding him close against her. She stroked his back and kissed his head and whispered softly to him, words that no one but him could hear but that nonetheless had tears falling freely down the face of every battle-hardened federal agent in that room.

Vin clung to Nettie and let her love wash over him, through him, seeking shelter and strength in her fierce heart as he had from the first moment she’d claimed him as “hers.” She’d been the first since his grandpa to love him like this, completely and unconditionally, and the first since Joe and Sadie Walker to believe that there might actually be more to him than the “special needs” label the State of Texas had stamped across his file and his soul. He wasn’t sure how much of him was left to salvage now, but knew without a doubt that whatever was there existed at all only because Nettie Wells had worked so stubbornly to find it in him in the first place all those years ago.

When he had regained some measure of control, he pulled back and gave her a small but reassuring smile, then once more let his gaze travel about the den, taking in the men who sat around him, whose mere presence was a continuing revelation to him. “I been askin’ myself over and over again why this had ta happen now,” he mused, “why my life had ta go ta hell jist when it seemed I’d finally got it on the right track. I mean, why couldn’t all this have happened years ago, back before I had so much ta lose?” He looked at Josiah. “Wanta know what I figgered out?”

Josiah leaned forward and returned Vin’s look intently, his whole attention riveted to the younger man. “Tell me.”

Vin smiled as if he’d unraveled the secret of the universe. “It didn’t happen then ’cause I couldn’ta stood it then,” he said, only now understanding the truth of it himself. “Mebbe I didn’t have anything ta lose, but I didn’t have anything ta hold on to, either. Or anybody. And I damn sure wouldn’ta had anybody holdin’ on ta me.” He shook his head slowly. “Hell, I’d either be crazy or dead right now.”

“But?” Josiah prompted softly, feeling his heart quickening and his soul lifting with Vin’s every word. He’d gotten it. Glory be to God, the boy had finally gotten it!

Vin’s smile widened and his blue eyes shone with a light and a life they’d not held for a very long time. “But I ain’t alone now,” he said firmly, his voice growing stronger with every word. “And I ain’t ever gonna be alone again. I can fight now like I wouldn’ta been able to then ’cause now I got somethin’ ta fight for and folks fightin’ fer me. It’s kinda funny, really, when ya think about it,” he added, reminding everyone present of just how strange his sense of humor could get. “All this time I thought I’s drownin’ in quicksand? Turns out I ain’t ever had so much solid ground under my feet in all my life.”