Buck grinned at his monitor screen, reading again his account of the action of the take-down.  Lordy lord, but one Vin Tanner was worth a dozen ordinary high men.  The whole thing wrapped up in thirty seconds, and not a scratch on any member of the team.  Their worst casualty was the polish on Ez’s fancy car.  And then there was the smug satisfaction of cataloging that limo-load of illicit arms taken out of circulation.

Not to mention that it made for very quick paperwork. One, two, three, done!

Damn, he loved this job.

Some small sound pulled his attention away from his screen.  His smile faded as he focused on Vin’s slumped shoulders.  The Texan had barely lifted his eyes from the screen in the two hours since the team had returned to the office.  And he hadn’t made a sound, other than the deliberate tapping of the keys as he fought his usual battle with the paperwork which was so inseparably bound to the more active aspects of their job.

Buck was worried about the young man.  JD’s concerns were still echoing in his head.  He couldn’t remember seeing a real smile in the last couple of weeks.  Knew he hadn’t heard that infectious laughter, or seen that damned crooked grin.  Ruefully, he acknowledged he even missed the unpredictable and demonic practical jokes. 

That boy was nursing something deep inside. 

Buck knew the quiet, private Texan would never speak about what was hurting him so, but he figured he had at least a general notion.  His gaze strayed to the closed door of Chris’s office. 

He had no real idea what was going on, but it had started with that private five-minute meeting about two weeks ago.  And it expressed itself in an inexplicable change in the relationship between the two men. 

Chris and Vin shared a closeness unlike any he’d ever witnessed.  Despite an initial twinge of envy that the young stranger had slid so easily into Chris’s private space, when he’d struggled for three years to crack through the man’s barriers, he rejoiced in the changes he’d seen in his old friend since Vin had moseyed gently into their lives.  The black looks, the weekend binges, the massive depressions had all dwindled away over the last eighteen months.  While no one would describe Larabee as bright and cheerful, he’d left much of the curmudgeon behind.  The man he’d become was sober and serious, but he wasn’t the dark, vicious shadow he’d been for those three years. 

All Vin’s doing, Buck figured.

And the benefit hadn’t been all in one direction, either.  Vin’s quiet, guarded wariness had relaxed as well as he’d basked in the close regard of Chris’s unconditional friendship and the affectionate camaraderie of Team Seven.  In retrospect, Buck realized how much that mischievous streak had surprised him when it had finally been allowed to surface.  And how much he cherished it.

But something serious had changed.  He hadn’t seen the two of them exchange any words that weren’t strictly related to business since that short, seemingly insignificant meeting.  Chris hadn’t addressed Vin by his first name since the Texan had abruptly run out of the office fifteen minutes after noiselessly closing the inner office door behind him.  Larabee wasn’t mistreating him; he just seemed to have cut the younger man off from that closeness that had characterized their relationship from the moment they met.

And Vin hardly met anyone’s eyes these days.  His gaze was directed downward, or into the distance, or over the shoulder of the person to whom he was speaking.  Just never toward their eyes.   He spoke seldom, and always few words in a low, detached tone. 

As Buck stared at that blue-shirted back, Vin lifted his attention from his screen and cast a single, brief look toward the glassed-in inner office.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat.  For that tiny moment, his teammate’s expression was unguarded and vulnerable.  Witnessing the pain and longing in sad blue eyes stole the air from Buck’s lungs.

Oh, damn. 

Buck leaned back, frowning over new speculations as he stared idly at the sequence of belly dancers on his screen.  As he sorted over the bits of evidence, he realized he did know what was going on after all.  Or at least, he thought he did. 

This could get nasty.  This could get really, really ugly. 

He figured he knew his old friend pretty well, and this kind of development was not going to go down well.  The specter of his lost family was powerful in Chris’s view of the universe.  He’d cut off his own arm before he’d give it up.

Oh, double damn.

Vin worked methodically at completing yet another incident report.  He still had to do the extra documentation required following a shooting incident.  A killing incident.

He clamped down firmly against the twist in his gut at the thought of yet another life on his ledger.

Necessary.  It had been necessary.  No taking chances with Ezra’s life.  It was worth that additional stain on his own soul.

Doggedly, he moved to the next field on the form.  Today, he was in no hurry to finish.

He glanced up as JD dropped his stapler.  Irresistibly, his gaze locked on the black-shirted man at the desk behind the glass wall.

Shit.  He jerked his eyes away, down and back to his monitor. 

Just one foot in front of the other.  No lookin’ back. 

Carefully, he began his description of the bust, meticulously describing the incoming vehicles, the placement of the principals, the triggers which had prompted him to squeeze his finger and take a human life.

Finished.  All finished.  Got to let it go.

“Hey, Vin.”

He glanced up at the big man leaning against the corner of his desk.

“Hey, Buck.”

“You about finished?  Figured we’d make a night of it at Inez’s.”

Dropping his gaze back to his screen, Vin shook his head slightly.  “Ain’t finished.  Why don’t the lot o’ ya go on without me.”

“Can I assist you, Mr. Tanner?”  Ezra appeared beside Buck.

“Nah.  Thanks, Ez, but I gotta do these extra forms.  Go on.  I’ll… Maybe I’ll be by later.”  The lie choked him. 

“Ya sure, Junior?”

He almost wavered at the gentle affection in the big man’s voice.  But he shook his head again, tapping out the first words of the next sentence.

Buck sighed and moved away, collecting JD as he passed the younger man’s desk. 

“Vin…”

He looked up briefly to meet Ezra’s concerned eyes. 

“You worry me, my young friend.”

Vin shook his head, dropping his gaze to the covered buttons on the southerner’s beautiful jacket. 

“No need, Ez.  I’m fine.”

“That is what disturbs me, Mr. Tanner.”

Vin shrugged one shoulder.  “Just… got somethin’ to work out in my mind, is all.”

“If you need to talk, I’d be honored…”

Vin smiled slightly at the clear discomfort in the silky voice. 

“Thanks, Ez, but I think I got things pretty well figured out.”

Standish stood for another long moment, then slowly turned and followed Buck and JD.  Vin breathed a sigh of relief and refocused on the forms.  He heard Josiah coax Chris into participating in the jaunt to Inez’s, felt Chris’s short pause and the gaze that briefly lay on his own back.  But he forced his own eyes to remain fixed on his screen.  Denied the almost irresistible need to respond to that tiny attention.

He hadn’t lied to Ezra.  He did have things worked out.  Worked out the only way he could get through this.  And if he weakened now, he’d never be able to do what he knew he had to do.

The door closed gently behind Josiah as the profiler ushered Chris into the foyer.  Vin swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.

Methodically, he finished the forms he was working on, proof-reading them slowly and carefully before printing them out.  Clipping the various forms together, he placed them neatly in the middle of his desk.

It was time.

He stood and moved slowly to stand in front of that inner office door.  The door was locked, of course, but locked doors had never been a particular impediment to him.  Inside, he stared around the office, noting the small bits of memorabilia—pictures, odd bits of nonsense, much of it recalling fragments of time shared between himself and the owner of the office.

Quit it, Tanner.  No givin’ in now.  Do what ya gotta do.

Drawing a deep breath, he reached into his back pocket.

“JD, that’s plain unnatural at nine a.m. on Monday morning!”  Buck clamped his hand down on the top of the young man’s bouncing head.  “Have a bit o’ respect for us normal folks.”

He glanced up to nod a greeting to Chris as the man stalked toward his office, briefcase in hand.

“Was that a serious claim of normality, Mr. Wilmington?”  The Southerner’s drowsy voice drifted from the entry to the coffee room.  “And where is our sharpshooter this miserable morning? This coffee is actually drinkable.”

Buck dragged the now-imprisoned JD from behind the partition they shared, casting a glance toward the unoccupied space across from Chris’s office.  The very unoccupied space.  Absently, he relaxed his hold on the youngster.

“Damn.”

He strode quickly into Vin’s space, then pivoted slowly around.  No Vin.  But worse, none of Vin’s belongings.

A cold, crawling sensation shivered down his spine, just as a bellow of outraged fury emanated from Chris’s office. 

Larabee stormed out into the common area, hand waving in front of him.

“What the hell is this?”

“I’m guessing, it’s Vin’s I.D.,” Buck responded slowly.

“His I.D. and his damned gun!  What the fuck does that bastard think he’s doin’?”  Larabee’s voice shook with rage, and maybe with something else.  He fixed Buck with a piercingly furious glare.  “What do you know about this, Wilmington?”

Buck shook his head, feeling sorrow flood his heart.  “Nothin’, Chris.  At least… nothin’ Vin said anything about.  But ya’d have to be blind not to see what’s been going on around here.”

The angry flush drained abruptly from Larabee’s face.  “What the hell do you think you’re talking about?”

Buck just stared into the other man’s face.  After a long moment, Chris dropped his eyes, cheeks flushing with some of the lost color.

The ring of the telephone in his office elicited a sharp curse.  He stalked toward the noisy implement, growling, “Don’t you have work to do?” over his shoulder.

Defying instructions, Buck remained standing long enough to discover the caller was Travis, and the subject was a certain envelope which had mysteriously appeared on their superior’s desk during the night.

Sighing sadly, he moved slowly back to his desk.

Oh, Junior.  What a mess.

They’d all tried calling, only to find themselves making their pleas to the impersonal echo of Vin’s voice mail.  All but Chris, whose anger and frustration were unabated.  He didn’t want to hear Tanner’s name.  Had fiercely purged his office of every scrap of reminder of the young Texan.  Had already put in for a replacement marksman.

The mood in the office was confused and murky, conversations subdued, spirits depressed.  Even JD rarely spoke.

Chris’s periodic explosions of fury didn’t help.  They’d all felt the razor edge of his temper. 

Buck couldn’t remember being more glad to see quitting time approach.  Escaping from that office had become his entire focus.

But things hadn’t really improved.  It was Monday; he’d had no plans for the night.  Which meant heading home with his young roommate.  And he’d found it impossible to hold out through the evening in the loft.  Depression hung unnaturally on JD’s shoulders, and it had started to make his skin crawl.

So here he found himself, hands jammed into the pockets of his old jacket, staring at the battered wood of Vin Tanner’s door.

A door he’d knocked on twice, to no response.  Through which he’d called, with no result.

Yet somehow, he knew the place wasn’t empty. 

Frustrated, he reached for the doorknob, and wasn’t really surprised to find that it turned readily under his touch.

Damn, Vin.  And in this neighborhood!

Blowing his frustration through his moustache, he shoved the door firmly open and walked into the darkness of the shabby apartment.

“I know you’re here, Junior,” he said softly. 

“Go ‘way, Buck.”

The flat voice led him to the source.  Moving carefully through the dark room, he squatted down beside the window, somehow relieved to see an intact Vin Tanner sitting on the fire escape, arms wrapped around the knees he’d pulled up under his chin.

“Hey, pard.”  Vin didn’t turn at the gentle words, keeping his gaze fixed on the alley view.  “Chilly out here.”

“Tol’ ya ta get lost, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I can do that, Vin.  I’m kinda worried about you.”

A small, pitiful excuse for a laugh answered.  “I’m fine.  Nothin’ to worry about.”

“I don’t think you’re fine, Vin.  You haven’t been fine for a couple of weeks.

Vin’s shoulders tensed, and he finally turned to look at his visitor.  Buck’s heart clenched at the sorrow in those fine blue eyes.

“Aw, Junior…”  Carefully, he crawled through the window and lowered himself onto the metal grid of the fire escape, not quite touching the shoulder of the younger man.

Vin turned back to the view, and for several minutes, neither spoke.  Then Buck drew in a big breath.

“You gonna tell me, son?”

The silent shake of a tousled head was the only response.

“Well, would it help if I told ya that I figure I’ve got a pretty good idea?” he asked carefully.

That gained him the Texan’s full attention.  Vin twisted around to face him, a kind of desperate denial reflected in his startled eyes.

“Ya don’t know nothin’!”

“I think I do.  And I figure I know where things went wrong, too.”

“Oh, shit!”  Vin’s forehead dropped to his knees as he rocked his body forward and back.  “Damn, damn, damn.”

“Hey, Vin.  I got no problem…”

“No problem!”  Vin’s head shot up, breathing accelerated until he was close to panting.  “I don’t give a shit whether you’ve got a problem!  Oh, God, and I told him…”

“That nobody would ever find out, right?”

Silence.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right.  Thinkin’ about it, I figure this has been goin’ on for a while.  Maybe… six months?”

“Eight.”  The whispered word was barely audible.

“Woo, I have been sleepin’!  So, eight months.  And it all started out as a bit of fun between good friends.  Fuck buddies, some would say.”

Vin winced at the crude label, then looked away and shrugged.

“And now ol’ Chris is gettin’ cold feet, right?  Wants to cut it off.”

“JD… he almost walked in on us.  Chris said…”

“Yeah, I can imagine.  And I think I know the rest of it, too.  I figure you… well, Vin, you never struck me as a guy for casual sex.  It got serious for you, right?”

Vin’s forehead dropped again, his shoulders shaking in silent, bitter laughter.  “Oh, Buck.  You don’t really get it at all, do you?”

Carefully, Buck laid his hand on one bowed shoulder.  Keeping his voice as gentle as possible, he urged, “So tell me, son.”

“Chris… He… It was him who…  Damn!”  Vin leaned his head back against the windowsill, still keeping his gaze pointedly away from Buck’s face.  “He said, just to take the edge off.  For fun, just good buddies helpin’ each other out.  No ties, no commitment, no gettin’ serious.  Those were the rules.”

“His rules, right?”

“Oh, yeah.  His rules.”

Vin turned away, staring out over the rundown buildings of his neighborhood.

Buck leaned forward, trying to see the other man’s face.  “Ya know, he’s got this… I dunno, vision, I guess you could say.  Losin’ Sarah and Adam—well, he’s in love with the idea that he can someday get all of that back.”

“Ya ain’t helpin’. Buck.”

“I’m just sayin’, maybe you could persuade him to look at things a bit different, ya know?”

The corners of Vin’s mouth curved upward in a tiny smile that had nothing to do with amusement.  “I ain’t proud of it, Buck, but I pretty much begged.  He didn’t even waver.”

“That bad, huh?”  He turned to stare out over the dreary vista.  “So… how long was it before you knew you weren’t goin’ to be able to stick to his rules?”

Another bitter little laugh.  “Buck, that’s what you don’t get.  I lied from the first.  I knew…”

“You were already serious?”

“Buck, I loved him the second I laid eyes on him.”  The declaration was quiet and unquestionable.  “Them rules… I knew from the first they were crap, that I had already broken ‘em to bits.”  He shook his head, mouth twisted into a grimace of self-scorn.  “Damn, this’s the kinda story us guys always laugh about—stupid girl says yes to some guy figurin’ he’ll learn to love her, then wails to the hills when he don’t do what she wants.  I knew it was stupid, Buck.  I knew it.”  He turned glistening eyes toward Buck.  “I just… I just wanted him so much.  I was too stupid and weak to say ‘no,’ even though I knew what a damn’ fool I was bein’.”

“Damn, Junior.  I wish I knew what to…”

Vin’s head was shaking again.  “My fault, Bucklin.  I got no right blamin’ anybody but myself.  I screwed up, and I gotta live with it.  Got no right figurin’ that he has to love me, just because I want him to.  Ain’t no law says he has to feel the same way about me as I feel about him.  I ain’t even really got no right to tell him how I feel.   His rules, but I agreed to ‘em.  I’m the one cheated.  Gotta take my medicine and get on with my life.”

“Vin… I…”  Buck stared at the other man’s backlit profile.  He didn’t ever remember feeling so out of his depth.  Vin’s sorrow was overwhelming, but his fatalistic attitude was pretty realistic.  That didn’t help him when all he wanted was to find a way to bring the other man back into the fold.

“I know, Bucklin.”  Vin turned again to face him.  “I ‘preciate you wantin’ to help me, but I got my own self into this, and I gotta find my own way out.”

“So, why can’t you do that with the team?  We’d help.”  That shaking head again.  “C’mon, Vin.  We’re all your friends, and we miss you.”

“Can’t, Buck.”  Buck winced at the defeat in those eyes.  “Thought I could, but I just can’t… can’t…”  He caught his breath sharply, ducking his head, but not before Buck caught the glint of pale light as moisture slid down a lean cheek.  “I just can’t take bein’ with him, day after day, and havin’ him treat me like a stranger.  Gotta leave.  I’m real sorry about leaving the rest of y’all, but it’s been killin’ me.  I just gotta go.”

Buck tried desperately to think of some other argument, some other inducement, but there was nothing.  No way to help, and no way to argue that it would be better if Vin stayed than if he went.

“So, what d’you figure to do?”

Vin shrugged.  “Ain’t thought that far.  Just… survivin’ the messages on the damn phone.”

On cue, the phone sounded and, after two rings, defaulted to the answering machine.  As Vin’s recorded message faded, it was followed by a familiar angry voice.

“Tanner!  Answer the goddamn phone, you asshole!  I know you’re there!  What the fuck do you think you’re doing?  Answer the phone!  You bastard!  Never thought I’d be prepared to call you a coward, but that’s what you are.  Answer, damn it!”

The tape recorded a long silence, and was abruptly cut off.

The single tear on Vin’s cheek had been joined by several others.  His gaze was again fixed on the view from the fire escape, the taut muscles in his jaw highlighted in sharp relief. 

Buck opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking for words, any words, to help.  Finally, he simply gripped the shoulder under his hand tightly, then rose and crawled back through the window.

As he made his careful way through the dark room, the phone rang again.  He paused, waiting, knowing who was at the other end.  Sure enough, that angry, offensive voice once more cut through the gloom, haranguing, insulting, then cutting off with a sharp expletive.

Buck sighed, shaking his head wearily.

He almost missed it; it was the barest breath of sound offered to the bleak squalor of the alley.

“G’bye, Cowboy.”

Part 3