Chris paced about the den with long, firm strides, too consumed in his frantically churning thoughts and feelings to sit still. He was impatient for Vin’s return, but fearful of it at the same time. He knew how he looked, knew how he would look to Vin, and wished desperately he had some way of sparing his friend the pain seeing him would cause. But, as with so much else that had happened lately, Larabee was absolutely powerless to do anything for Tanner except to be ready to pick up the pieces and try to put them back together.

But, God, how many more pieces could Vin afford to lose?

Ezra dealt Buck a card, then glanced over his shoulder at the restless figure of his boss. "Where is a tranquilizer gun when you really need one?" he asked wryly, picking up his own cards and studying them without the slightest flicker of interest. "He’s wearin’ a rut in the floor, and in my nerves."

"That would explain this sorry hand," Buck groused, scowling at his cards in disgust. "Damn, Ezra, a little help here?"

Standish arched an elegant brow at the big man. "I was not aware it was my responsibility to ensure your success," he drawled. "I merely deal the cards, sir, I do not control how they fall–"

"Bullshit," Buck scoffed. "Hell, you probably know what I’ve got as well as I do. I ain’t seen anything this ugly since–"

"You picked out that shirt this mornin’?" Ezra finished for him. "Might I remind you that Mr. Tanner still suffers the effects of a skull fracture, and point out that your garish choice in apparel might well send him back into the hospital from which he has only just been emancipated?"

"Now, look here! This shirt ain’t any worse than some of them God-awful suits you wear, particularly," his blue eyes took on a devilish glint, "that obscene purple get-up you wore when we took down that bastard Wickes."

Ezra’s eyes widened and darkened, and a flush crept into his face. Very carefully, he laid down his cards, then stared at Buck and said in a low, cold voice, "Mr. Wilmington, I believe I shall have to kill you for that. I made it exceedingly plain that no one was ever to mention that monstrous suit in my hearing again. You, sir, must die."

"Now, hold on, Ez," Buck soothed, "I ain’t the one that made you wear it. If I recall right, it was Vin’s idea–"

"And why anyone would take fashion advice from a man whose wardrobe consists almost exclusively of blue jeans and faded flannel shirts is a complete mystery to me!" Standish fumed. "I looked like… like…"

"Like one of the lead characters in an episode of Veggie Tales," Josiah intoned calmly. "I’ll take two cards, please."

Ezra shot a scathing glare at the profiler, his cheeks now flaming, his body trembling with outrage. "Veggie Tales?" he hissed. "Veggie Tales? How dare you compare me to a cartoon extolling the virtues of produce–"

"Now, now, Ezra, there’s more to Veggie Tales than just singin’ tomatoes," Josiah informed the seething Southerner. "They’re nice little morality plays, giving children guidance–"

"I… am not… a vegetable!"

"Oh, I don’t know, Ez," Buck mused. "All purple and shiny like ya were, hell, you did look an awful lot like a plum. Or maybe a grape. ’Course, those are fruits." He winked and laid down his cards. "I fold."

"You!" Standish spat as the big man rose. "And you!" He turned back to Josiah. "How dare… fruit… Veggie Tales…" His mouth opened and closed several more times, but no sound was forthcoming.

"Well, I’ll be damned," Buck breathed, watching the blazing green eyes and the furiously working but silent mouth with something akin to awe. "I do believe he’s speechless!"

"Yep," Josiah said calmly, "and damn near frothing at the mouth." He sighed heavily and laid down his cards. "I guess that means the game’s over. Damn, I was kinda hopin’ to win this one, too."

"With Slick here dealin’?" Buck snorted, jerking a thumb toward the still-flummoxed Standish. "You been smokin’ that funny weed again? You oughtta know by now that once he takes them cards in his hands–"

"They’re comin’," Chris said in a quiet voice, hearing the unmistakable sound of a car on the dirt track that led to the house.

All talk died instantly at those soft words, and Buck and Josiah immediately went to join Chris as he moved toward the door. Ezra, too, heard the words, and shook off his own stupefaction as if it were nothing. Bracing himself for whatever crisis would next erupt, he rose to his feet and followed his friends out to the porch, watching as Nathan’s Bronco drew ever nearer.

"Chris," Josiah called softly, reaching out to grasp his friend’s shoulder as he started out into the drive, "maybe you shouldn’t be the first one Vin sees." Larabee whirled to face him, angry words on his lips, but he only squeezed the shoulder harder and said, "For his sake, let him decide when he’s ready. He needs to feel like he’s got some control here. God knows, he’s had little enough of that up to now."

Chris stared hard at Josiah, wanting desperately to argue, but knowing, however much he hated it, that the man was right. For long moments he stood rigid, his own needs warring with his understanding of Vin’s. Then, remembering what had happened the last time he had stripped away the younger man’s fragile control, he exhaled slowly and bowed his head in surrender.

"I’ll wait inside," he breathed.

Buck watched him take a few reluctant steps toward the door, then joined him. "Reckon I’ll wait with you," he said, absently circling a long arm about Larabee’s bowed shoulders. "Junior may not be in a hurry to see me, either."

Chris looked up, and knew that wasn’t at all the reason Buck was going with him. And a slight smile curved about his mouth as warmth lit his eyes. "Hell," he grunted, "with that shirt, he probably saw you from the interstate."

7~7~7~7

Vin’s stomach clenched hard as they neared the house, and, for a moment, he feared he would be sick. He didn’t understand the sudden panic, didn’t understand the countless tiny pricks shooting along his every nerve or the sudden fear that he was suffocating. Nathan had assured him that Chris wasn’t angry, that Chris wanted him here, that he didn’t hold anything against him.

Not like they had…

Oh, God, God, no! For an instant, the scene before him shifted horribly, and it wasn’t the ranch house he saw at all, but another, even bigger one, with three wings running off the main section, and a neat, spacious yard where a crowd of boys and adults waited, and stared. And hated…

"No!" he cried sharply, pulling away from the window and burying his face in shaking hands. "No, please! I don’t… I cain’t… Please, please, no!"

"Ssh, easy, Vin, easy," JD soothed, scooting closer and putting an arm about the stricken man as Nathan braked the Bronco to an easy stop. "It’s all right. You’re all right–"

"No!" he moaned, bowing his head lower and huddling against JD.

"Okay, Vin, let’s talk this through," Nathan said gently, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning around. "Tell us what you’re seein’."

"I cain’t–"

"Yes, you can," JD assured him, tightening his arm about him. "You’re safe here, you know that. It’s just me and Nathan, and you know we’re not gonna let anything happen to you. So just tell us what you’re seeing. Tell us why you’re so scared."

Vin licked his dry lips and swallowed. "They… they’re waitin’," he whispered. "They’re all outside, waitin’ ’n watchin’. They all know what I done–"

"Who?" Nathan prompted softly, reaching over the seat to rest a gentle hand on the back of Vin’s head. "Who’s watchin’?"

"All of ’em." His hoarse voice shook and broke repeatedly. "Th’ other kids… the staff… the p… preacher… They’re all there. Oh, God, I cain’t go back!"

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but JD interrupted. "Okay, here’s what we’ll do." He spoke firmly, without a shadow of doubt or hesitation. "Nathan, you still got those binoculars in here?"

The medic blinked, confused by the question, then answered slowly, "Yeah, but–"

"Get ’em. Vin, listen to me." He gently pushed Tanner away from him and smiled into the bewildered and frightened eyes that met his. "Nate’s gonna get his binoculars, and you’re gonna look through ’em, so you can see for sure where we are, and who’s waitin’. And if you still don’t wanta be here, then we’ll turn around and head back to town. Back to the loft. Okay? It’ll be your decision."

Nathan suddenly realized what the boy was doing, and smiled. He opened his door and got out of the Bronco, going around to the back, giving thanks yet again for JD Dunne.

"Okay, now," JD went on as Nathan rummaged around in the back for the binoculars, "try and calm down, okay? You’re safe. I want you to believe that. I’m right here, and Nathan’s right here, and you know we’re gonna take care of you. So," he reached out and pushed Vin’s hair away from his face, holding that frightened blue gaze with his own, "take some slow, deep breaths, and try to relax. You’re all knotted up, and that can’t be comfortable. Just breathe for me, okay?"

Vin tried, but could only manage a short, shallow gasp. His panic rose a notch.

"It’s okay," JD assured him. "Here, look." Wanting Vin to see everything he did, he reached behind the sharpshooter and rolled down his window, allowing more air into the vehicle. "Better?"

It was, immensely so, and Vin drew a slow, deep, unsteady breath. Fresh, sweet mountain air filled his lungs even as a light, cool breeze ruffled through his hair. He drew another breath, let it out reluctantly, then drew in another, relaxing as the deep draughts cleansed his mind and soul.

"Here you go," Nathan said, handing the binoculars over the seat to Vin. "You take as long as you need. We ain’t in no hurry here. We got all the time in the world."

He took the binoculars, and suddenly felt foolish as he did so. A blush crept into his pale cheeks, and he bowed his head again. "No, it… it’s okay," he breathed, hating the irrational fear that lurked in his mind. "I don’t need–"

"Yeah, you do, and it’s all right," Nathan said gently, dropping a big hand to Vin’s thin shoulder and squeezing lightly. "You do whatever you need ta do, you hear? Won’t nobody here think any the less of you for it. We all got ghosts, Vin," he reminded the younger man quietly. "Ain’t a one of us here who don’t know what it’s like to have your soul sliced open and ever’ bit of fear and pain you’ve ever felt come pourin’ out so hard and fast it’s like ta drown ya. So you do whatever it takes ta hang on. Me and JD, we got nowhere else ta be but here."

Vin fingered the binoculars and frowned down at them. "Don’t y’all ever get tired of havin’ ta wait on me?"

Nathan shrugged lightly. "There are a lotta things in life worth waitin’ on, Vin," he said easily. "And I figure a good friend’s one of ’em."

Vin lifted his head, looked at the boy sitting next to him and the man behind him, and was amazed to realize that they truly didn’t mind. They were content to wait here as long as he needed. The last of his fear dropped away at that, and a new strength flowed through him. These men had waded into the quicksand for his sake. The least he could do was to start trying to pull himself out.

"Well, then," he drawled, raising the binoculars to his eyes and peering through them, "let’s jist see what I’m gettin’ into."

7~7~7~7

Josiah set his hands on his hips and stared down the drive at the stalled Bronco. "What in heaven’s name are they doing?"

"I haven’t the slightest idea," Ezra answered, shifting his gaze from the Bronco to the house behind him. "But if they don’t hurry, I will not be accountable for whatever havoc Chris wreaks on the interior of his home."

"Buck’s in there with him."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Oh, now, that is a vast comfort! The man has the protective instincts of a mother grizzly bear, and both his cubs are in that car." He began toying with the band of his Rolex. "No doubt he and Chris are chewing the sofa cushions as we speak."

Josiah watched Ezra fidget with his watch, then the gold signet ring on his right hand. Next, the Southerner adjusted the pleats of his trousers, tugged once at his belt, and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his shirt.

"Too bad they can’t be as cool and unconcerned as you," he said with a smug grin.

"Hmph," Standish snorted, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "I assure you, I could not possibly be less concerned."

7~7~7~7

Vin stared through the binoculars, and exhaled deeply as he saw the familiar ranch house, rather than the hated place that had suddenly sprung from his memory. He studied the two men on the porch – Josiah as solid and as stable as a mountain, and Ezra seemingly plagued by ants – and felt tears pricking his eyes. These men who had stood with him through so much already were standing with him still, ready once more to welcome him into their midst.

To welcome him home.

"Vin?" JD prompted softly. "Tell me what you see."

"It’s the ranch," he rasped. "Chris’s house. ’N Josiah ’n Ez’re out on the porch, waitin’." He swallowed past the hard knot in his throat. "Reckon they’re waitin’ on me." He frowned slightly. "Don’t see Chris or Buck, though."

"They’re probably inside," Nathan guessed.

Vin lowered the binoculars and bowed his head. "Don’t want Chris ta be the first thing I see," he breathed, his fear resurrecting itself. If Chris was hurt so bad that he felt the need to hide…

"You up to this?" JD asked worriedly.

Vin swallowed again and nodded, but didn’t raise his head. "Got no choice. Cain’t hide from it forever, cain’t pretend I didn’t do what I done. Done enough’a that already, ’n ain’t nothin’ but bad come from it. I gotta face him, face what happened, else I won’t ever get better."

JD reached out and grasped Vin’s arm firmly. "You know we’re right here with you," he said in a low, firm voice. "You know that, right?" He stared hard at Vin, willing that lowered gaze to lift and meet his; it did, and he leaned closer still. "You start feelin’ shaky, or nervous, or scared, or anything at all, you just reach for me, or Nathan, or any of the others, you got that? Reach for us, and we’ll be there, ready to hold you up."

Vin looked into those dark hazel eyes for long moments, saw the unwavering conviction mirrored in them, then dropped his gaze to the hand gripping his arm and held himself very still, afraid that, if he moved, that touch would be withdrawn. It unnerved him to realize how much he needed it right now, how much strength and comfort he drew from it, and he wondered if JD had any idea at all just how much that simplest of gestures meant to one who’d gone so much of his life without knowing its like.

He stared at the boy’s hand a few moments longer, memorizing the feel of it upon him and putting that memory back for a time when he would need it, then slowly raised his eyes once more to JD’s. "I reckon I… I could use that now," he whispered, his wide, unguarded blue eyes filled with fear and longing. "Ain’t feelin’… too sure of m’self jist now."

"Don’t you worry," JD assured him, tightening his hold on Vin, "I won’t let go. Not until I I’m sure you can stand on your own."

7~7~7~7

"Here they come," Josiah murmured as the Bronco started once more down the drive.

Ezra immediately ceased his fidgeting and fixed his gaze upon the approaching vehicle. "Do you think he’s all right?" he asked quietly, unable to suppress the anxiety that had become so much a part of him. Of all of them.

"I don’t know," Josiah said honestly. "‘All right’ has become such a relative term for him, and the standards seem to shift constantly." He sighed heavily and shook his head slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Just wish I knew which standard we’re usin’ today."

"Hopefully, it will be one which excludes the concept of ‘collateral damage,’" Ezra murmured.

Josiah shot him a sharp look. "He can’t help–"

"And I never for a moment thought otherwise," Standish interrupted coldly. "Believe me, I am as aware as any of you of the intolerable burdens oppressing him just now, and I would never presume to judge him." He drew himself up to his full height and pinned Sanchez with a smoldering jade gaze, outraged by the older man’s chastisement. "I know the unspeakable damage done him, both by that animal Castro and by the animal in his past we have yet to identify, and I do not hold him responsible for the actions resulting from that damage. I simply meant that he has suffered enough, as has Chris, as have all of us, and it is my deepest hope that he, and we, might, just this once, be granted a much-needed respite from that suffering."

Shame flared in Josiah as he realized how badly he had misjudged the Southerner. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I should have known better."

"Yes, you should have," Ezra said tersely. "While I admit that I do not express my feelings as freely as the rest of you, that does not mean that they run any less deeply. I know what Vin has been through, I know what he is going through still, and I am as saddened and as horrified by it as anyone else. No one, no one, should ever have to endure what he has, and certainly not a child!" His voice quivered and broke on that last word, and he turned away abruptly as his feelings threatened to overwhelm him.

But Josiah saw the pain in his face the second before he turned, and reached out to lay a strong hand on one tight shoulder. "I’m sorry, brother," he said again in his deep rumble of a voice, his blue eyes filled with sorrow. "I know you care about Vin as deeply as we do, and I know you have a particular empathy for children. I should have remembered that, and known that you of all men would never make light of his troubles. Forgive me?"

Ezra swallowed hard and waved an elegant hand, nodding once. "You know I do," he said hoarsely, still struggling with emotions he found it strangely difficult to control. "I suppose we are all… somewhat on edge…" He drew a slow, deep breath and raised his head, finally regaining his composure. Turning around once more, he gave Josiah a crooked smile, though it never quite reached his eyes. "And, to think," he quipped ruefully, "Vin looks to us for strength."

Josiah kept his hand on Ezra’s shoulder and squeezed firmly, gazing intently at the younger man. "He’s lookin’ in the right place, brother. It’s this," he slid his hand from Standish’s shoulder and tapped his chest, just above his heart, "that gives you strength. We’re gonna get through this, son," he assured him, "just like we do every other damn thing life throws at us – together. Vin needs to believe that, and so do you."

"I do," Ezra breathed, frowning slightly, "though I cannot for the life of me fathom why. Good Lord, can it be that you all are actually makin’ a true believer of me?"

Josiah winked and smiled. "Stranger things have happened, brother."

"Yes," Ezra muttered. "And the longer I associate with the lot of you, the stranger things get!"

Josiah laughed aloud and clapped Standish heartily on the back, sending the smaller man staggering just as the Bronco pulled up and stopped. Relishing Ezra’s withering look, he laughed again and went forward, his great heart lightened by the knowledge that all his sheep were back in the fold.

"Welcome home, brother," he greeted warmly as he opened Vin’s door, showering a broad smile upon the sharpshooter. "It’s good to have you back where you belong."

Vin blushed and smiled shyly. "Only been gone overnight," he said softly.

Josiah leaned forward and cupped a big hand around the young man’s slender neck. "Doesn’t mean we weren’t worried about you. We need you here with us, Vin, especially when we know you’re hurtin’. It’s the only way we can take care of you."

Vin reached up and curved cool, pale fingers about the man’s thick arm. "Reckon I need that, too," he breathed, still smiling. "Maybe more’n I knew."

"But you know it now, and that’s what counts." He arched two heavy brows. "You need help gettin’ out, or can you manage?"

Vin thought a moment, then said, "Think I can do it. But you might wanta stick close." His grin turned wry. "Don’t wanta fall down again. Ain’t got noplace left ta hurt."

Josiah chuckled quietly and shook his head. "No, I guess you don’t." He stepped back. "You just take it slow," he urged. "We’re in no hurry here."

"Y’all keep sayin’ that." He struggled to ease his tired and battered body out of the Bronco, grimacing and grunting as various limbs and muscles protested the action. "Ya’d think… unh… I’m slow ’r somethin’… Shit!" he breathed as he finally hauled himself free and forced himself upright. "Glad don’t none of y’all believe in compact cars. Hey, Ez!" he greeted, smiling as the Southerner came to join them.

Standish heaved a deep, martyred sigh and shook his head slowly, raising his eyes heavenward. "How many times must I tell you?" he moaned. "It’s Ez-RA, not ‘Ez.’ Ezra. Two syllables that roll trippingly off the tongue. It is entirely manageable in its proper form, and does not require shortening."

"Whatever ya say." He grinned and winked. "Ez."

Ezra sighed again. "Why do I even try?" He suddenly noticed that Vin was favoring his left side. "Your posture is even worse than usual, Mr. Tanner. Are you all right?"

Vin’s mouth twisted into something somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "Knee’s hurtin’ some, is all. Damn thing’s bein’ awful slow ta heal."

"Then perhaps we should adjourn into the house. Elevating it might help, and, Lord knows, we should be able to procure an icepack."

Despite the dull throbbing building in his knee, however, Vin felt a sudden reluctance to go inside. His eyes darted to the door, and he licked his lips nervously.

"Vin?" Josiah asked softly, not missing the flash of uncertainty in those eyes. "Somethin’ wrong, son?"

He swallowed and licked his lips again, then dragged his gaze to Sanchez. "You tell me," he breathed. "Chris is in there, ain’t he?"

Nathan, JD and Ezra all exchanged worried glances, while Josiah kept his eyes on Tanner. "Yes, son, he is. And, if I know him, he’s pacin’ the floor and chewin’ on Buck, wonderin’ what’s keepin’ you out here."

Vin sagged against the Bronco, suddenly in need of its support. Once more, his eyes slid to the door, and fear shone plainly on his face. "He all right?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible. "I mean, I know I hurt him… Don’t remember much about what happened…" Wide blue eyes full of pain and pleading wandered once more to Josiah’s face. "He all right?"

"Well," Sanchez set his hands on his hips and regarded the younger man sympathetically, "I’m not gonna lie to ya, Vin. You beat him up pretty good. His face and ribs are all bruised up, but it looks worse than it is. Nathan said you didn’t break anything, and there’s no sign of a concussion."

Vin frowned deeply, staring at the profiler but seeing something else entirely. "There was… there was blood," he rasped softly. "I remember that much…" He shuddered and wrapped his arms tightly about himself, his haunted eyes going wider still. "It was his, wasn’t it?"

"You got him in the nose and mouth," Nathan explained gently, "and you know they always bleed a lot. But it’s nothin’ that won’t heal, I promise."

"He mad at me?"

Smiles broke out on various faces. "No, son, he’s not mad at you," Josiah assured him. "He was mad at himself for provokin’ you, but not at you. He understands that you didn’t know what you were doin’."

Vin nodded faintly, then frowned again. "Is Buck mad at me?"

The question caught them all off guard, and they exchanged puzzled glances. Finally, JD asked, "Why would Buck be mad at you?"

Vin licked his lips and tried to concentrate, "’Cause… ’cause I hurt Chris…" His brows drew down over shadowed eyes, and he cocked his head slightly to one side as a vague memory stirred. "Somebody… knocked me down… It was Buck, wasn’t it? ’N he was shoutin’… He was mad ’cause I was hurtin’ Chris."

"No, no," Ezra contradicted, eager to relieve Tanner of this particular misconception. "Believe me, Vin, Buck was not mad at you. Yes, he knocked you down, and I suppose he was shouting, but only because he was frightened. Of what you were doing to Chris, and of what you might do to yourself." He stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Tanner’s shoulder, wincing at the thinness of it. "You know Buck," he said softly, soothingly, capturing and holding Vin’s gaze with his. "You know he’d never willingly hurt you. But he honestly felt he had no choice. He had to protect Chris, he had to protect you, and, unfortunately, the only way to do that was to take you to the floor. But he has bitterly regretted doing that, regretted it the moment he did it, and hasn’t stopped castigating himself since. And, right now, he’s terrified that you’ll be afraid of him."

"Why?"

Ezra looked to his friends for help, and JD stepped forward. "Because, after it happened, when you came to, you were scared of him." He shook his head slowly, remembering Vin’s terror, and Buck’s pain, only too well. "You wouldn’t let him touch you, wouldn’t let him near you. When he tried, you pulled away, and just sort of huddled on the bed, like you thought… well, like you thought…"

"He was gonna hit me," Vin breathed. "Like he always done before when I messed up."

"Hey, now," JD said sharply, "Buck has never hit you–"

"Not Buck," Vin rasped, his eyes wide and unblinking. "But I musta thought… Buck was him…" He flinched violently from the sudden memory of a big fist flying toward him, and instantly felt Nathan’s strong arm circling protectively about him. "Guessed I’s mixed up," he whispered, leaning into Jackson’s embrace. "Thought Buck was him… thought he was gonna beat on me like he used ta do… Lord God," he groaned in torment, "I jist cain’t keep it all straight in my head! ’N I’m hurtin’ y’all because I’m too crazy ta know who’s who–"

"I thought," came a quiet voice from the porch, "that we agreed you weren’t gonna call yourself crazy anymore?"

Vin looked up sharply at that voice, inhaling sharply as his startled gaze collided with Chris’ steady one. Immediately, his mind registered the vicious bruises marring the familiar face, and his stomach gave a sickening lurch as guilt and horror crashed through him in twin waves. The world about him and the ground beneath him shifted abruptly, and, but for Nathan’s arms about him, and then JD’s, he would have fallen.

"Oh, God!" he whispered in anguish. "Chris?"

Ignoring his own pain – indeed, never feeling it – Larabee went at once to his stricken friend, standing close and reaching out, gently cradling Tanner’s white face between his hands. "It’s all right, Vin," he said in a low, even voice, deep green eyes boring into horrified blue ones. "I’m all right. I may not look it, but I am."

"I d…" Vin raised a badly shaking hand to Chris’s face, brushing trembling fingers lightly over his darkly bruised jaw. "I did… this?"

"Yeah, but only because I scared you. I was stupid, Vin, and I did a stupid thing." His hands never left Tanner’s face, and his gaze refused to let Vin’s go. "You were starting to remember, you got scared, and I only made it worse. I grabbed you, held you, and you panicked. I pushed you right back into your past, and you did the only thing you could think of. You thought I was gonna hurt you, and you fought back. It’s all my fault."

"No," Vin breathed, shaking his head slowly and dropping his hand from Chris’s face. "No, I… I shoulda known…" He swallowed hard and tried to step away from Larabee, but couldn’t get his legs to cooperate. He knew Chris truly didn’t blame him, and that knowledge served only to deepen his own pain. "I coulda killed ya!"

"But you didn’t–"

"But I tried to! If Buck hadn’ta stopped me… " He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest, trying desperately to take in air that wouldn’t come. "But I h… I hurt him, too… by makin’ him hurt me… Oh, God!" he gasped as black spots began to dance before his eyes.

"Whoa, easy, pard." Fear gripped Chris as Tanner breathed much too fast, much too hard, as panic again threatened to consume him. "Settle down, now," he urged in a quiet, steady voice, forcing himself to remain calm; he would not repeat yesterday’s mistake. "You gotta relax, pard, y’hear me? Just calm down, and slow your breathin’. You’re gonna hyperventilate on me, and I don’t think you need that right now."

The low, steady voice broke through the cold, black wall of fear enclosing him and caught his mind just before it slipped away again. Then he felt the hands holding him, supporting him, and gave himself instinctively into their keeping. Strong, yes, but infinitely gentle, and deeply familiar. Despite their strength, there was no threat in them, no promise of hurt to come. There was only safety, and comfort, and the blessed assurance that he could trust their touch as he had no other. The hands might hold his body, but their touch went straight to his soul.

"Easy, pard, I gotcha," Chris soothed as he felt Vin leaning ever more heavily against him. Tanner’s troublesome left knee buckled, but Chris tightened his hold and lowered him gently to the ground, cradling the half-conscious man close against him. "I gotcha, Vin, I gotcha. And I ain’t gonna letcha go."