JD sat with Vin in the waiting room while Nathan got the injured man admitted. Tanner had roused somewhat from his stupor during the long ride from the ranch to the hospital, though he’d remained alarmingly unresponsive. That had changed, though, when they’d tried to get him through the doors of the emergency room. Once he’d recognized where he was, he’d panicked and begun to fight them, refusing to go inside. It had taken Nathan and JD’s combined strength to hold him in place, and a whispered warning from Nathan that an orderly would be called if he didn’t calm down.

If he lived to be two hundred, JD knew he’d never forget the look of absolute terror that had flooded Vin’s face at that.

But the warning – the threat – had worked. Vin’s defiance had crumbled into nothing, and he’d let himself be led in and admitted, as passive as a baby. Nathan had answered all the admitting clerk’s questions, had even filled out the paperwork and asked that Dr. Stone be notified. Vin was still her patient, the medic explained, while silently figuring that the fewer strange faces the dazed man had to deal with, the better.

Left with nothing else to do, and remembering Chris’s words, JD had then and there appointed himself Vin’s guardian and protector. He never stopped to think how strange it was that he, the "kid," the youngest, smallest and greenest of the bunch, should consider himself the protector of a man older than him, more experienced than him and certainly more capable of protecting himself than anyone he had ever known. Never stopped to wonder what in the hell he would do if Vin should turn on him the way he’d turned on Chris, because, God knew, Vin Tanner had mastered more ways of breaking a man in half than JD knew existed. None of that ever entered the young agent’s mind.

Instead, all he saw, all he knew, was that a friend of his was hurting more deeply than JD had ever seen him hurt before, was lost in ways the boy would never have imagined this man could be lost, had been stripped of every protective barrier he’d ever possessed and was as near bleeding his soul out onto the floor as he could be. And he’d be damned if he’d let one more person inflict one more wound on that already-ravaged soul.

He’d made a promise to Chris Larabee, and, by God, JD Dunne always kept his promises.

So, as the nurse finally came to take Vin out of the waiting room and into the treatment room, JD rose to his feet and followed without a moment’s hesitation. The nurse, seeing him, stopped and turned to him, casting a slight smile upon him.

"I’m sorry, but you can’t go in," she said quietly. "Only family members past this point–"

"I’m as close to family as he’s got," JD answered, locking his gaze onto hers. "Besides, he needs me. He’s been through a lot lately, and he’s just not up to facing all this on his own. Believe me," he lifted his chin in a fair imitation of Larabee, "you’ll avoid a whole lot of trouble by lettin’ me come in with him."

She opened her mouth to protest, when another nurse hurried forward and stopped her.

"It’s okay, Joyce," the second said with a smile, glancing at JD. "He’s right. He’s to be considered family. Having him here will make dealing with Vin a lot easier."

JD felt a well of relief surge through him as he heard her words and recognized her. Lynda, one of the nurses who usually worked the trauma floor, but was occasionally rotated down to the ER. Working both stations had given her a familiarity with all the members of Team 7, and JD knew he’d found an ally.

"Thanks, Lynda."

She smiled at him, then turned back to the first nurse. "Dr. Stewart’s bellowing for you again," she said with a wry smile. "Apparently, you’re the only one here who can read his mind and understand what he wants. He’s in three, with one of the bus accident victims."

"Oh, lucky me," Joyce breathed, grimacing at the thought of once again assisting the difficult physician. "And I suppose he’s his usual charming self?" Lynda’s snort gave her the answer she needed, and she sighed heavily. "All right, you take him into five, and I’ll go see what Wonder Doc wants. I thought he wanted to transfer to Good Shepherd now that they’ve upgraded their trauma unit?"

Lynda smirked and shook her head. "Apparently they already have their legal limit of God’s gifts to medicine over there. So we’re still graced with his presence."

Joyce muttered something under her breath and stalked off, leaving JD staring in shock after her. He thought only ATF agents talked like that…

"Vin?" Lynda stepped up to the silent, unresponsive man and smiled at him, then took his good hand in hers. "C’mon, let’s get you into your room. You look like you need to lie down." As she gently started him forward, she glanced over her shoulder at JD, who’d taken a protective position at Tanner’s back. "So where’s the rest of the crew? Usually it’s Chris we’re having to peel away from him."

JD sighed heavily and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well," he said quietly, "it’s kind of a long story…"

7~7~7~7

Lynda took Vin’s vitals with a calm and easy efficiency, chatting the whole time, never seeming to care that he didn’t answer. And, knowing his history as she did, she warned him of and explained every procedure beforehand, not wanting to startle him.

Startling this one was never a good idea.

Despite her unwanted closeness, Vin found himself relaxing under her deft but gentle touch, under the steady stream of her voice. He couldn’t follow her words, didn’t even try, but simply let himself drift on the sound. Her voice was soft and sweet, and he found himself thinking of a light spring wind sighing through the trees.

"All right, this may hurt, but I’ll be as careful as I can," she warned as she began to cut away the bandage Jackson had fashioned around Vin’s cut hand. "This is Nathan’s work, I take it?" she remarked with a smile. "Why that man doesn’t leave his government job and go to med school, I’ll never know. We’re stuck with the blow-hards like Stewart, while the truly gifted ones get away. Good Lord, Vin," she said sharply as the last of the bandage peeled away, "what’d you do, shake hands with a chain saw?"

"I fell."

The answer was out before he knew it, before he could stop it, an automatic, instinctive response that sprung from someplace deep inside him, a place he’d thought no longer existed. It had once been his answer to everything, his explanation for everything, evasive yet, in its own twisted way, truthful.

Because he did always end up falling.

Lynda heard at once the odd, detached tone of his voice, and felt a shiver of apprehension run through her. She’d heard those words so many times, spoken in just that way, and knew with a sinking feeling what they meant. But, try as she might, she couldn’t associate their grim meaning with any of the men she knew to be his friends, and so looked to JD for some explanation.

JD stared down at Vin for long moments, taking in the lost, dazed expression in his clouded blue eyes, and reached without thinking for his friend’s good hand. Holding firmly to it, never considering what might happen if Vin should decide he didn’t want to be touched, he cradled that one frail hand between his two, then raised sorrowful hazel eyes to the nurse.

"You remember… how he’d get… when he was here before?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to say or do anything that would land Vin back in the hated restraints. Or worse. "Those…" What was the word they’d all taken to using? Oh, yeah… "Episodes? Where he’d sorta… get lost?" When she nodded, he took a deep breath, then swallowed hard and went on. "He had one, out at the ranch. Chris… did somethin’… I don’t know, grabbed him or somethin’…" He winced and tightened his hold on Vin’s hand. "Anyway, it ended up in a fight. Vin broke a lamp… and cut his hand on one of the pieces."

No need for her to know what Vin had been doin’ with that piece…

Lynda nodded slowly, knowingly. "I take it one or more of you had to bring him down." As JD winced and looked away, she nodded. "That would explain the fresh bruising and the bump on his head." She looked again at the deep gash in Vin’s palm, and the smaller cuts across his fingers. "He must’ve been holding on to that piece of glass for all he was worth," she mused softly.

JD looked sharply at her, anger flaring in her eyes. "He was scared!" he defended hotly. "You know how he gets when he’s like that! He doesn’t know where he is, or who anybody else is! All he knows is that he’s been hurt before, and doesn’t wanta be hurt again. He was just protectin’ himself, and we all know it!"

"Easy, easy," she soothed, raising her hands defensively. "I wasn’t making judgments." She smiled at the boy. "You make a good stand-in for Larabee, you know that?"

He raised his head and glared at her, not at all certain she wasn’t mocking him. "I promised Chris I’d take care of him."

"Well," her smile widened and her eyes gleamed, "I’d say you’re doing a fine job. Now, let’s see if we can’t take care of him, as well."

7~7~7~7

Dr. Stone sighed tiredly and rubbed her hands over her face. Again. God, but dealing with these men was hard on her makeup!

"All right, look," she began with a forced patience. "I know he just got out of the hospital. I know he hates hospitals. I know he’d rather be almost anywhere on earth than the hospital. But, gentlemen, there’s just no way around it. In his present condition, Vin needs to be kept here overnight at least for observation. And that’s that."

Nathan scowled deeply, anger simmering in his dark eyes. "You say he needs rest," he grated through clenched teeth. "You honestly think he’s gonna get any here? You know how hard we had ta fight him just ta get him through the emergency room doors? What the hell d’you think he’s gonna do if you admit him? And we all know what you’ll do if he fights! He still has nightmares about that!"

She sighed again and grimaced, then reached up to massage the aching muscles of her neck. A vacation. She needed a vacation. Far from Denver and the ATF. "He lost blood he couldn’t afford to lose. He took a knock on the head on top of a skull fracture. And he’s still unresponsive, which indicates either shock or some deeper trauma. Tell me, Nathan," she said pointedly, "do you honestly expect me to release him in his present condition?"

"You did once before," JD said softly.

She stiffened at that, never having expected the shot to be taken by him. The cub was learning from his pack-mates.

"We told you he wasn’t ready to be released," the boy went on, fixing his direct hazel gaze on the doctor, "but you didn’t listen. And this happened. What makes you think you’re gonna get it right this time around?"

She stared at him in silence, having no answer for him.

"Look," Nathan sighed, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his big hands together, "I know Vin’s in bad shape. Hell, he’s worse than I’ve ever seen him. But he knows us, he trusts us." He shrugged and looked pleadingly at the doctor. "Might be he’ll let us care for him more than he would y’all."

"All right, let’s think that through," she breathed, taking the chair across from Nathan. They were in a small consultation room near the room where Vin lay, awaiting whatever decision would be made about him. "If I sign him out, where will you take him? Back to the ranch?" Two nods answered, and she sat back, crossing her arms against her chest. "You told me he did a number on Chris." Her dark gaze homed in on Nathan’s and bored into it. "You really think he’s ready to go back and confront what he did to his best friend? You think he’s got anywhere near the strength that would require?"

Nathan exhaled sharply and bowed his head, his whole body sagging. He hadn’t considered that.

"We could take him somewhere else," JD put in. "Josiah’s, or Ezra’s; they both have room."

"You could," Dr. Stone allowed with a slight shrug. "But how would you explain that to Vin? You know he’d wonder why all of a sudden he’s not going back to the ranch. What would you tell him? ‘Because we think you’re not ready to see what you did to Chris’? Or, worse, ‘Because Chris isn’t ready to see you’? Chris has been his one constant throughout this whole ordeal, the one man who’s kept him from slipping completely over the edge. And you think he’s ready to leave here and either see what he did to that man or be taken somewhere else and told it’s best if he stays away for a while? Tell me," she arched a brow at Nathan, "which of you boys really wants the job of tying him down next?"

"Damn," Nathan whispered, closing his eyes tightly.

"Exactly," she answered. "Welcome to my world."

"He’ll have to face Chris eventually," JD said softly, hating this entire situation.

She nodded. "I know. But we can at least give him time to rest, to come out of whatever place he’s hiding in right now. He knows what he did to Chris," she said quietly. "Why do you think he’s like this? Part of him had no idea who Chris was when they were fighting, but there was another part that did, and that part of him is in pain now. He knows, and he’s in no condition to face it just now." Her gaze softened and traveled between Nathan and JD. "He needs time, he needs space. Right now, this is the best place for him, and you both know it."

Nathan ran his hands over his face, then through his hair. He knew the doctor was right, but knowing that didn’t make her words any easier to bear. At his best, Vin hated his hospitals. At his worst…

Hell.

JD looked from Nathan to Dr. Stone and back to Nathan, knowing what decisions would be made. And that knowledge brought forth another decision.

"Then let me stay with him." Nathan and Dr. Stone looked sharply at him, but he never wavered. "It’s the only way, and you both know it. Nathan, you have to go back and make sure Chris is all right. But we can’t leave Vin here alone. That would be like… abandoning him… You said yourself," he told the doctor before she could protest, "that he knows what he did and it’s preyin’ on him. You really think leavin’ him here overnight alone would be best? Given his state right now, can you honestly say that leaving him alone is in his best medical interest?"

She stared at the young man as if seeing him for the first time. And she wondered if Larabee and the others had any idea what kind of powerhouse they were raising.

"I’ll write out the order," she said at last, smiling slightly. "You can stay with him. Hell, if anybody needs a guardian angel, it’s gotta be Vin Tanner."

7~7~7~7

Ezra hung up the phone and bowed his head, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He’d known when the clamor of the garbage crew outside his window had awakened him at the ungodly hour of eight a.m. that this was going to be a long day. He just hadn’t realized it would be interminable.

In the den behind him, three men waited for his explanation of the phone call. Against all advice, Chris had demanded to be let out of bed and now rested in his recliner, bruised and aching terribly, but refusing to be kept out of the loop. Josiah was in another large, overstuffed chair, and Buck sat on the raised hearth.

Strangely, no one even considered sitting in Vin’s rocker.

When he knew he could no longer delay the inevitable, Ezra retrieved his beer from the bar and turned, crossing to the den to rejoin his friends. Sinking onto the sofa with a heavy sigh, he raised the beer to his lips and took a deep drink to fortify himself.

Domestic. God, the indignities he endured for these men!

"Well?" Chris prompted tersely, staring at the Southerner. He would have attempted a glare, but the simple act of focusing his eyes hurt almost beyond bearing. And he doubted a glare would have been at all effective with his nose as swollen as it was.

Ezra lowered the bottle and idly began peeling the label from its neck. "That was Nathan," he said rather unnecessarily. "He said he will be leaving the hospital momentarily, and will stop in town only long enough to retrieve a change of clothing and the necessary accoutrements for an overnight stay before returning here."

"Vin?" Chris demanded, unable to manage more than one or two words at a time.

Ezra sighed again and dropped his gaze to the bottle he was so studiously unwrapping. "Nathan will be returning alone," he said slowly, hesitantly, dreading the explosion he knew would come. "Dr. Stone considered it was in Vin’s best interests to admit him overnight."

"Like hell!" Chris thundered, never feeling the pain of that outburst. He kicked the recliner down and leaned forward in it, jabbing a finger at Standish. "You get Nathan back on the phone and tell him he’s not to come out of there without Vin, you hear? He doesn’t belong there–"

"On the contrary," Ezra interrupted softly, raising his head and meeting Larabee’s hot stare evenly, "that is precisely where Vin belongs just now, and if you would think with your head instead of your heart, you would know that, too."

Josiah whistled softly, while Buck hung his head and muttered, "It’s been nice knowin’ ya, Ez." Chris continued to stare furiously at him, but Standish was unmoved by his anger.

"Have you seen what he did to you, Chris?" he asked calmly. "Shall I find a mirror so you can survey the carnage?"

"Hell, I can feel it, Ez," Chris growled. "I don’t need ta see it–"

"I beg to differ, sir," he interrupted again. "You do need to see it, if you are to comprehend Vin’s suffering. Imagine looking at you, his closest friend, through his eyes, and seeing the damage he inflicted upon you. Then remember his fragile state of mind. Now, you tell me, where does he belong?"

Chris sighed and fell back in his chair. "Shit," he breathed.

"Crass," Ezra quipped, "but correct."

Buck raised his head then and gazed worriedly at Standish, clasping his big hands tightly between his legs. "What’s his condition?" he asked softly, his blue eyes haunted by anxiety.

Ezra regarded him compassionately. "He required a number of stitches in his hand, and he has some rather nasty bruises, but nothing serious."

"His head?" Buck asked more softly still, bracing himself for bad news.

Ezra smiled gently. "A nasty bump, and he’ll likely have a hell of a headache, but there was no new damage. The good doctor merely felt a night of observation would not go amiss."

Buck exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, uttering a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks. Chris, however, stared steadily at Ezra.

"Why?"

Ezra returned that stare, and fervently wished the man would learn to leave well enough alone. Clearly, physical pain wasn’t enough for Larabee; he had to gouge holes in his soul, as well.

"Well?" Chris insisted.

Ezra sighed, then said coolly, "Very well, if you must do this to yourself, who am I to stop you? He was withdrawn and unresponsive, and his blood pressure was considerably lower than Dr. Stone thought appropriate. According to Nathan, he is displaying the classic symptoms of shock."

"Merciful God," Josiah groaned, raising his eyes heavenward.

"And they’re just leaving him there?" Chris whispered strickenly. "Like that? Alone? How could they–"

"Please, Chris, let me finish," Ezra broke in yet again. "Your concern is understandable, but unwarranted. Vin will remain overnight, but he will not be alone." He smiled slightly. "It would seem he has acquired a new shadow."

Pain was dulling Larabee’s ability to keep up with the Southerner’s nimble tongue, and, as much as he hated it, he heard himself grunting, "Huh?"

Ezra’s smile widened until his gold tooth shone. "I would have paid money to see this," he said with unabashed delight, "but, according to Nathan, our young Mr. Dunne browbeat the formidable Dr. Stone into letting him stay the night with Vin. It would appear that the young man has appointed himself as our fallen comrade’s champion and protector."

Chris and Josiah stared at him in frank surprise, while Buck laughed aloud and clapped his hands together smartly.

"Well, all right, kid!" he cheered, his spirits buoyed by the young man’s actions. "Damn, if that boy don’t beat all I’ve ever seen! That doctor musta gone and got his back up, and now he’s showin’ her what he’s learned from runnin’ with the big dogs. Don’t you worry about Vin, stud," he urged his old friend, beaming with pride in his protege. "JD’s on the job, and that boy’s half terrier and half pit bull. Everything’s gonna be all right!"

Chris wanted desperately to believe that, but wasn’t sure he could. He knew JD would do his best to look after Vin, knew the boy had already sat countless hours with him in the hospital and done much to soothe his troubled mind. And he supposed that, of them all, JD was least likely to provoke Vin into another violent episode.

But that assumed they could predict what might provoke him…

"I hope you’re right, Buck," he breathed at last, sinking back into the chair as exhaustion, pain and worry washed through him in wrenching waves. "I don’t know how much more either of us can take."

7~7~7~7

He gripped the big bowl as tightly as he could while trying to dry it, but his left wrist, not yet healed, lacked its usual strength and range of movement. Feeling his grip slipping, he turned his hand and tried to brace the heavy dish against the waistband of his jeans. But a twinge of pain shot sharply through his wrist, and his fingers opened reflexively. Before he could stop it, the bowl was falling, and he could only watch in horror as it smashed against the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

Oh, Lord, no!

"TANNER!"

The bellow from the hallway hit him like a blow, snapping his head up and jerking his body around, driving shards of terror as sharp as any glass through his soul. His heart burst into a frantic rhythm against his ribs, and every instinct in him screamed at him to run. He knew what was coming, knew what would happen if he stayed.

And he just couldn’t take that again.

But the only means of escape lay through the back door, and, to get there, he’d have to run barefoot across a floor littered with broken glass. Again the voice bellowed, and now he could hear the heavy footsteps carrying it closer thundering toward him.

NO!

With a wordless cry of stark, cold panic, he pushed himself away from the sink and, bracing himself for the pain, dashed across that glittering floor. He forced himself to ignore the agony slicing into his feet, knew he’d felt worse, knew he’d feel worse if he didn’t run. He’d broken too many rules, had fucked up too many times. The bastard was out of patience with him, had said he’d had all he could take.

This time, the bastard was gonna kill him.

Gasping and sobbing in terror and pain, he finally saw the door coming within reach. A few more steps, and he’d be free–

"You ain’t goin’ nowhere, boy!"

Just as he lunged for it, a big hand clamped hard about his arm and swung him around, and another collided with the side of his face in a violent, open-handed blow. Blood spurted from lips smashed against his teeth, and a loud ringing filled his ears. Nonetheless, he tried to struggle free, but was immediately gripped by two huge hands and shaken viciously, then hurled effortlessly to the floor, where he landed amid the broken glass.

"You got ta clean that up, boy!" the bastard snarled, towering above him like a huge shadow from hell. "Figgers a stupid little whelp like you’d try ta run out and leave your mess fer others ta clean up. But that ain’t how we do things around here!"

"’S an… an accident," he gasped, pressing a shaking hand to his torn mouth. "I didn’t mean… My wrist ain’t healed… from when ya broke it–"

"Don’t you blame your clumsiness on me!" the bastard spat. "Always lookin’ fer an excuse, fer somebody ta fault but yourself. It’s not my fault you’re too damn stupid ta be of any use–"

"Stop it!" he shouted hoarsely, shooting a defiant glare at the big man. "You stop sayin’ them things about me! I ain’t stupid, and if I am clumsy it’s only ’cause ya keep me so beat up I cain’t hardly move–"

"How dare you!" the bastard roared. With a speed that defied his size, he bent over and snatched the boy off the floor, then flung him hard into the wall and sneered as he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. "I told ya before, boy, I won’t take no back-talk!"

He wanted just to lay there, to curl up or pass out, but knew he didn’t dare. The bastard was in a rage now, and wouldn’t stop. Not until he was broken. Or dead.

"Leave me be!" he whispered through swollen, broken lips. "Y’ain’t got no right… ta hurt me like ya do!"

"Right?" the bastard spat. "RIGHT?!" He rushed forward and again bent over, once more hauling the boy from the floor. Holding him only inches from his own fury-reddened face, he hissed, "The state gave you ta me, boy, and gave me the right ta do with ya what I will! You and all these other little bastards nobody wants! You’re trash, Tanner, trash that don’t nobody want and won’t nobody but me take! So don’t you talk ta me about ‘right’!"

With an effort that required all his strength, and with a will he knew would get him killed, he raised his head, met the bastard’s glittering eyes, and spat into his face. "Ain’t me who’s the trash," he rasped. "I reckon that’d be you."

Once again he was flung into the wall, and he screamed as the bones of his unhealed wrist snapped anew. Blinded by pain, he never saw the kick coming, only heard the harsh bellow that preceded it and felt the hideous pain and nausea exploding in his gut that accompanied it. With nothing but instinct and fear to go on, he rolled desperately away from another kick and pushed himself to his knees, gasping and sobbing and trying to get away.

There had to be a place he could hide…

But no. The bastard was bigger, faster, energized by his rage and unhampered by injury. Time and again those brutal hands and feet found him, battered him, sought to tear him apart. He could hear the big man shrieking, but couldn’t understand his words. Didn’t need to.

This time the bastard was gonna kill him.

But he wouldn’t go alone. Unable to take any more, determined to end this however he could, he fought back with a ferocity given him by desperation and hurt however he could the man hurting him. And when his mind cleared enough for the thought to take hold, he fought his way out of the kitchen and into the den, forcing his battered, bleeding body to cooperate, frantic to reach the only means he knew of saving himself.

Of ending this here and now.

He reached the table just as the bastard reached him, and yanked open the drawer with broken fingers as a big hand gripped his hair and flung him to the floor. But he found what he’d sought, and grabbed it just as he was hauled to his feet. Tearing himself from the bastard’s hands with a wild cry, he turned and raised the gun in shaking hands, pulling back the hammer and looking up to meet… green eyes.

Chris.

He sank to the floor, staring up in confusion at the man who loomed above him. Light shone on golden hair, but the face was unclear, shadowed. He tried to call out, but had no voice.

Oh, God, what was happening?

He lowered the gun and shook his head to clear it, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Chris was here… but Chris couldn’t be here…

He heard the hoarse shout, and looked up in terror to see the bastard wielding a fireplace poker. With a cry of his own, he raised the gun and fired…

And saw Chris’s body jerk…

No.

Paralyzed by horror, he watched helplessly as the crimson stain spread across Chris’s chest, as his friend stared at him in pain and betrayal. Unable to bear the sight, he closed his eyes tightly and bowed his head, sobbing brokenly. He heard a voice calling his name, familiar, concerned, but, awash in guilt and shame he ignored it, sickened by what he’d done.

Chris…

The voice gave way to a maddened howl of rage and pain, and, prompted by instinct, he looked up. Chris was gone, and again the bastard was lunging toward him, the wrought-iron poker held for a killing downward stroke.

NO!

His broken hand never wavered. A scream of pain tore from him, but he never faltered. Desperation drove him now, forced movement into fingers that should not have worked, and he pulled the trigger again, and again, his bullets striking deep into flesh. The bastard gaped at him, dropped the poker and crumpled slowly to the floor. He clutched the gun in shaking hands, sobbing hysterically…

And watched Chris Larabee fall dead at his feet.

"NOOO!!"

JD was across the room in three strides as the scream rang out, his soul frozen by the sound. Without a second thought, he leapt onto the bed and grabbed Vin as he jerked upright and tried to escape a danger only he could see.

"Vin! VIN!" the boy called, holding tightly to the struggling man. "It’s all right, Vin, it’s all right," he soothed repeatedly, never loosening his grip. "It’s all right. You’re all right. You’re in the hospital. Ssh, Vin, hush, hush, you’re all right!"

"Chris!" he sobbed brokenly, finally ceasing his struggles and collapsing helplessly into the arms that held him. "Oh, God, Chris, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… I didn’t know… Oh, God, Chris!"

Stunned by the heartsick desolation in that wail, JD settled himself on the bed and pulled Tanner closer against him, resting a cheek against the sharpshooter’s hair. "It’s all right, Vin," he said, forcing himself to speak clearly and calmly. "It’s okay, Chris is gonna be all right. Nathan’s gone back to look after him, and the other guys are there… He’s gonna be all right!"

"I killed him!" Vin wept, burying his face in his captor’s chest and digging his fingers into his own hair. "God help me, I didn’t mean to! I thought… I thought it was him… but it was Chris… And I shot him… Oh, Jesus!" he cried in anguish. "I shot Chris!"

"No," JD said firmly, wrapping his arms around Tanner’s thin, shaking figure and rocking him slowly. "No, you didn’t shoot Chris. You didn’t shoot anybody! Vin, listen to me, listen to me, okay? It was a dream. A nightmare. You didn’t–"

"I saw–"

"No, you didn’t see, you dreamed. Look at me." He raised a hand and gripped Tanner’s chin, raising his head until their eyes met. "Look at me, Vin. Can you see me? Do you know who I am?"

Vin stared at him for long, long moments, studying dark hair, wide eyes and a young, earnest face. Recognition evaded him and he dropped his head onto a waiting, willing shoulder with a sobbing groan, trapped in a nightmare world where only Chris and the bastard existed.

"It’s all right," JD murmured softly, holding tightly to his friend’s shuddering body and tenderly stroking his hair. "Just take your time. Just relax, and breathe, and listen to me. Keep listening to my voice, and relax. You know who I am."

Slowly, slowly, his sobs gave way to hitching breaths as the strong arms holding him and the body cradling him infused him with a sense of warmth and comfort he so desperately needed. As the quiet voice continued speaking to him, a glimmer of recognition finally dawned and he raised his head, lifting one pale hand and brushing trembling fingers lightly against the boy’s face. "JD," he whispered shakily as the face gave rise to a name. "You really here?"

JD exhaled deeply and smiled widely. "Oh, yeah, I’m really here," he breathed as a gust of relief swept through him. "How about you? Are you here with me?"

Vin frowned in confusion and tilted his head to one side, his blue eyes dark with shadows. "Don’t rightly know… where ‘here’ is," he admitted, his soft voice still thick with tears. "Cain’t… cain’t remember… Thought I’s back… in the home… But Chris was there…" His frown deepened and he shook his head slowly. "But he couldn’a been there, could he?"

JD licked his lips and thought, knowing he had to be very careful. Chris had miscalculated, and had gotten the shit beaten out of him for it. And Vin was probably even more unstable right now than he had been then.

"You mean… your foster home… back in Texas?" he asked quietly. He felt Vin stiffen against him, and began rubbing slow circles against his back as Buck did to him when he was agitated. "It’s all right, Vin," he assured his friend. "We’re not there now. We’re a long way from there, a long time from there. And whatever happened there, Chris couldn’t have been part of it, because he didn’t even know you then. You were just a kid, right?"

"Yeah," Vin breathed, gazing into those kind, comforting eyes and giving silent thanks for the hand that rubbed his aching back. "I’s thirteen, fourteen. Chris didn’t know me then."

JD’s gut clenched and he fought hard not to show his horror. Thirteen? God, at thirteen he’d been playing stickball, sneaking into R-rated movies and dreaming about fast cars, not fighting for his life!

Vin tore his gaze from JD’s face and dragged it slowly about the room, frowning as he tried to remember where he was. It was familiar, so familiar…

"The hospital," he whispered, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. "This is where they brought me after…" He swallowed and turned back to JD, frowning in exhausted confusion. "Thought you said it was jist a dream," he rasped unsteadily, feeling another ripple of panic at the edges of his mind. "Thought you said… I didn’t do it… But this is where they brought me when–"

"Ssh, hush, Vin, hush," JD broke in soothingly as the blue eyes before him began to grow frantic. "You didn’t shoot anybody. That was a dream. But you are in the hospital, because you’re hurt." He reached out and absently brushed the sweat- and tear-damp hair back from his friend’s ashen face. "Do you remember getting hurt?"

Vin bowed his aching head and pressed a hand to one throbbing temple, closing his eyes as he tried to think past the pain. Flashes came to him, the sound of glass shattering, light glittering off countless fragments… "I broke it," he whispered, shuddering as another tendril of fear chilled him. "I c… I couldn’t hold on to it, my wrist… I dropped it, and he got mad… But it was an accident." He winced and shook his head. "Reckon I am clumsy, jist like he said."

Anger flared in JD at that, but he quickly tamped it down, knowing strong emotions were not what Vin needed just now. "Who said you’re clumsy?" he asked in as casual and conversational a voice as he could manage. "Couldn’t be anybody who really knows you. Couldn’t be anybody who’s ever been rock climbin’ with you and seen you do your impersonation of Spider-Man, or seen you prowl the beams of a warehouse during a bust like a damn cat." He shrugged nonchalantly. "And there’s just no way a guy who has as many black belts in as many martial arts as you do is clumsy. It’s pretty clear that whoever said that just doesn’t know you."

"I broke Chris’s cup," he said simply, staring through wide, unblinking eyes at the boy.

"Because he startled you," JD said gently. "You wanta hear about everything I break when Buck runs bellowing into the kitchen because he overslept?" He winked. "You know our motto at the loft: ‘If it ain’t broke, it ain’t ours.’" He was rewarded by a slight, shy smile, and felt a huge wave of relief surge through him. They were through the first minefield; Tanner was back in the present. "Yeah, see, you remember now!"

"’S hard ta ferget Bucklin’s bellow," Vin said softly, at last beginning to relax. "Sounds kinda like a moose in heat."

JD grimaced playfully, hoping he could use humor to anchor Vin here. "Y’know, I’m not even gonna ask how you know what that sounds like," he teased. "That’s a little more information than I needed."

"Y’ gotta get outdoors more, kid," Vin rasped, still smiling. "See some’a nature’s wonders."

"Not if it means watching Buck attract horny she-mooses," JD laughed. "That’s a wonder I can live without seein’." He saw Vin shiver. "Here, you lay back down. You gotta be wiped out."

"Reckon I am a mite tired." He let JD ease him back against his pillow, exhaling involuntarily as his exhausted body relaxed. "Lord God, it was so real!" he breathed, closing his eyes and laying his right arm across them.

JD took his left hand, the uninjured one, and held tightly to it, letting Vin feel his warmth and nearness. "I know. And I wish I could say it was just a dream, but I think we both know it was more. You’ve got somethin’ inside you tryin’ to come out, Vin," he said quietly. "Maybe it’s time you let it."

Vin shook his head. "No. It’s better off left buried–"

"Except it’s not stayin’ buried, is it?" the boy asked softly. "It’s comin’ up, whether you want it to or not, and the harder you fight against it, the worse it’s tearin’ you up." He tightened his hold on Tanner’s hand, wincing at the frailty of the bones beneath the thin layer of flesh. He’d always thought Vin was perhaps the strongest of them all, yet now the man simply seemed to be wasting away. "Maybe it’s time you stopped fighting," he suggested gently. "All you’re doin’ is killin’ yourself, and… and I don’t wanta lose you."

"JD–"

"I know," the boy went on, refusing to let Vin interrupt, "that you’re probably thinkin’ you’re lost already. I mean," he swept sorrowful eyes over the fragile, battered figure before him, "you’ve been through so much, still goin’ through a lot… Chris told us what you said, about feelin’ like you’re sinkin’ in quicksand." His eyes caught and held Vin’s, and he frowned. "But surely you know we’re not gonna let that happen, right? I mean, you have to know that!"

Vin tore his gaze away and turned his head, staring out the window but seeing nothing. "Don’t rightly know anything jist now," he breathed.

JD sighed and hung his head in frustration. He could see Vin slipping away, could feel it, and knew he couldn’t let that happen. He wasn’t at all sure he could stop it, but he was determined at least to try. Vin was too important to him, to all of them, to be let go without a fight.

"Do you know," he began softly, lifting his head and staring at Tanner’s profile, "that when we lost you to Castro, we wanted to forget making a case against Monroe and just concentrate on finding you? Chris went to Travis, to the FBI, everybody, and tried everything he could to get warrants authorizing us to search every inch of every property owned by Monroe just so we could find you. We were ready to tear that man’s empire apart with our bare hands. Did you know that?"

Vin swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly, wishing the boy would stop. He tried to pull his hand free, but JD only tightened his grip on it.

"You were lost," the boy went on, "and we couldn’t stand that. D’you know why? Because a part of us was lost with you." His voice grew stronger, surer, his words steadily taking on intensity as everything he felt rose up within him and came pouring out. "You’re not just you anymore, Vin," he said strongly, his voice resonating with emotion, with conviction. "You’re not alone. You’re one of us, you’re part of us, and what happens to you happens to us. We were lost when Castro had you. We were broken and in pain when you were in this hospital fighting for your life. And now," his voice began to quiver, and he made no effort to control it, "I got news for ya. If you go down into that quicksand, you won’t go down alone. We’ll all be lost right along with you. ’Cause you’re not just you anymore."

Vin’s face contorted into a mask of pain. "Then mebbe y’all should jist cut me loose now!" he whispered hoarsely.

"Right," JD said in a hard voice, wiping a hand across his wet eyes. "Just like Buck cut Chris loose after Sarah and Adam died. Just like we cut Ezra loose when the FBI told us he was dirty and couldn’t be trusted." He leaned forward and grabbed Vin’s chin in his free hand, forcibly turning the man’s face toward him and staring hotly into his startled eyes. "Maybe you haven’t noticed, Vin," he growled, "but we don’t cut each other loose! If anything, we just hold on all the tighter!"

Vin shook his head slowly, his eyes wide with the fear that chilled his soul. "No," he moaned strickenly. "No, y’all cain’t… I ain’t worth it! Y’all cain’t get mixed up in my craziness–"

"It’s too late," JD said calmly, releasing Tanner’s chin and sitting up straight. "We’re already there." Measuring his next words carefully, knowing he had to make Vin understand, he asked quietly, "You know what you did to Chris, don’t you?"

He tensed and tried to pull his hand away. "You said I didn’t–"

"I said you didn’t shoot him," the boy interrupted quietly. "I said you didn’t kill him. I never said you didn’t hurt him. But you know what you did do, don’t you?"

He did know, and that knowledge tore a soft, stricken gasp from him. He tried again to pull his hand away, and this time JD let him. With a groan, he turned onto his side, away from JD, and closed his eyes.

JD reached out and lay a gentle hand on Tanner’s bony hip, refusing to let the man sink into isolation. "You see, Vin? We’re already in it with you; we have been from the start. All those times we sat with you when you were here before, listening to you scream or cry, holding you while you fought whoever was hurtin’ you… You honestly think we could just walk away from you after that?" he asked softly, his sorrowful gaze fixed on his friend’s dejected figure. "Don’t you know us better than that by now? Don’t you have any idea what you mean to us? What we’d do for you?"

"Stop it, please!" he whispered, twisting his fingers into his hair. "I don’t… I cain’t…"

"You stop this," JD ordered firmly, leaning over and untangling Tanner’s hand from his hair. "We’re not gonna walk away from you, Vin, we can’t. Not after what we’ve been through with you already. Not after what happened between you and Chris, and not after Buck had to take you down. God, you don’t honestly think Buck could walk away after that, do you?" he asked incredulously, thinking of the big man who was friend, brother and father to him. "You shoulda seen him, Vin. When he realized how hard he’d hit you, he was in tears. He knew he had to do it to save Chris, but, still… How’s he supposed to walk away after that?"

"Ain’t nobody else ever had a problem doin’ it," he said softly, bitterly.

"Yeah, well, we’re not ‘nobody else,’" JD said sharply, angered that Vin could even think such a thing about them. "You’ve got a problem, Vin, and that means we’ve got a problem! So you’d best let us help, because we won’t be better until you are!"

Startled, Vin turned over onto his back and stared up at the boy, his eyes narrowed in confusion, his face a mask of puzzlement. "How can my problems be y’all’s problems?"

JD sighed impatiently and shook his head. "Because you’re ours, Vin, jeez!" he shouted, throwing up his hands in frustration. "God, how hard is that to understand? You’re ours, you’re one of us, you belong with us, you belong to us! And that means, you hard-headed Texas pain-in-the-butt, that whatever’s wrong with you is wrong with us, you got that? We’re not whole unless and until you are!"

Vin blinked, more startled than ever, and gaped at the irate boy. Strangely, though, rather than frightening him, the outburst warmed him, sent an unexpected reassurance through him.

"You can’t keep this bottled up inside you," JD sighed, releasing his anger. He took Vin’s bandaged hand in his and held it gently. "Look what it’s doin’ to ya," he said softly, sadly. "And think about what you did to Chris." He searched Vin’s anguished eyes with his own, willing the man to understand. "Is that how you wanta go on livin’? Or whatever the hell you call what you’re doin’? You get lost in it, Vin. And one of these days, you’re not gonna come back. And then what’re we supposed to do?"

Tears filled Vin’s eyes and slid slowly down his face, and he reached for JD with his good hand, clinging tightly, desperately to him. "I don’t… I don’t know… what ta do…"

JD held up their joined hands, his own eyes shimmering with tears. "This is a start," he said harshly, his voice roughened by emotion. "This is where you always start. Grab on to one of us and hold on for dear life, you hear me?" When Vin nodded, JD wrapped his other hand around the sharpshooter’s pale fingers, holding Vin’s hand securely between his two. "You know we’re not gonna let go, right?"

Vin swallowed and nodded again, his gaze riveted to the boy’s. "Reckon I’m finally startin’ ta see that," he rasped softly.

JD laughed despite the tears streaking his face. "It’s about damn time! Anybody ever tell you you’re stubborn?"

Vin gave a wan, strained smile. "Reckon Larabee’s mentioned it once ’r twice–" His voice broke and his smile gave way to an expression of pain and fear. "Is he…"

"He’s gonna be fine," JD assured him gently. "You beat him up pretty good, but Nathan said nothin’s broken."

"I coulda killed him."

"Yeah," JD breathed, knowing Vin needed to hear the truth. "He said you were lookin’ for a gun."

"Jesus," he breathed, closing his eyes. "And y’all still wanta help me?" He snorted softly. "Cain’t imagine why."

"Because we figure you’re worth it," JD said evenly. "Because we figure you’d do the same for us. Because we care about you too much to see you lost to whatever it is that’s tryin’ to destroy you. Because we’d never be able to live with ourselves if we didn’t."

"That’s a lotta reasons."

"Not really. In the end, when you think about it, it’s all the same reason." When Vin opened his eyes and frowned up at him, JD shrugged and smiled. "We’re family, and that’s just what families do."