He hadn’t been pacing the waiting room for more than five minutes when the irritatingly cheerful ring of his cell phone startled him.  He pulled it out and checked the caller ID, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he recognized the number.

Puffing the air out of his lungs, he punched the button and put the phone to his ear.

“Buck!”

He winced at the force of the shouted name.

“Yeah, Chris.”

“What the hell happened?  What’s wrong with Vin?”

“Easy, pard.  Vin’s with Doc Stark right now.  Don’t know the extent of it.”

“Buck, answer the question.  What happened to him?  How badly is he hurt?”

“Chris… Damn, this is impossible.  Look, Chris, Vin ain’t gonna die.  And there’s no way in hell I can explain this over the phone.  You just need to get here.  We… I think we’re gonna need you to sign stuff.”

For a tense moment, the phone was silent.  Then Chris snapped, voice tight, “I’m on the way now.”

“You driving and talkin’ on that thing at the same time?  C’mon, Chris.  All we need is for you to wrap yourself around a light pole!”

“I’m on the way, Buck.  I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Okay.  ER entrance.  And get off that damn phone while you’re driving!”

Chris stared at him in horror, jaw dropped, eyes stunned.

There’d been no gentle way to tell him.  Wasn’t any easy way to explain this sort of thing.

But Buck couldn’t have felt worse, more clumsy, if he’d kicked his old friend in the balls.

“He… They…”  Chris leaped to his feet, stalking furiously around the small room they’d allowed Buck to use for his difficult explanation.  “Shit!” he yelled, shoving his chair violently into the wall.  “Goddamn it!”

Buck quickly moved to protect the room’s accoutrements from Larabee’s fury.

“Easy, Chris.  Knocking the shit out of the doc’s toys won’t win us any special privileges, and I’m thinkin’ we’re gonna want a few in the next couple of days.”

Chris froze, then stood rigidly, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, chest heaving.  “Oh, God, Buck.  What the fuck do we do about this?”

Buck winced at the expletive.  “We get through it, pard.  We help him get through it.”

Chris’s gaze speared him, vicious and self-condemning.  “And just how am I going to help him?  Shit!”  He tilted his head back, eyes squeezing shut.  “Oh, God, Vin.  I’m so sorry.  I’m so goddamn sorry,” he whispered.

“Hey!”  Buck gripped the other man’s shoulder.  “You’re not going to help anything this way.  No way in hell was this your doing.  So you just shed that guilt shroud you’re fixin’ to wrap around yourself, and you start thinking about Vin.  None of this is about you!”

“Isn’t it?”  Chris’s mouth twisted in disgust.  “If I hadn’t been such an asshole… If I hadn’t let myself… You wanna explain to me just why he’d have been on that street, at that time, if I hadn’t forced him to quit?  Shit, Buck, he should have been safe, sitting at that damned desk fighting with his paperwork.  Not out on that street in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Chris, use your head.  He lives in Purgatorio.  He runs on those streets almost every day.  Crack of dawn, middle of the night, afternoon—this sort of thing don’t run on a schedule.”

Larabee shook his head.  “Doesn’t make any difference.  He wouldn’t have been there at that time if not for me.”

Buck grabbed Chris’s other shoulder, jerking him around and forcing him back down onto the chair. 

“Now you listen to me, you stupid bastard!  This.  Is.  Not.  About.  Chris.  Larabee.  Even if you’d dragged him by the scruff of the neck and personally dropped him on that street, it still wouldn’t be about you!  You get your head out of that selfish little lock-box you been carrying around with you these last few years, and get that straight.  I don’t give a shit if you go home every night and howl to the moon about how mean this ol’ universe is to cranky old ATF agents.  When you’re here… when you’re around him, you forget about what hurts Chris Larabee, and you think about what that boy needs.  ‘Cause right now, there ain’t nothing more important!”

Chris stared at him silently, expression grim and angry.  But Buck thought he saw a flicker of uncertainty in those hard green eyes.

“Ya got it, Larabee?”

Finally, Chris jerked a nod. 

“Good.  And I figure it’s gonna be a while before he’s back with us, so just maybe you’d better take the time to think on how you’re gonna go about putting him first.”

A tap on the door broke the tense silence.

“Gentlemen?”  Doctor Stark cracked the door open. 

“Doc!”  Buck ushered her into the room.  “How is he?”

She reached to shake the hand Chris automatically offered, then gestured them toward two of the chairs, grabbing the one Chris had abused and pulling it closer for herself.

“All right, then.  For the record… Mr. Larabee, you are listed as Vin’s next of kin.  Do you want to have Mr. Wilmington in the room for this discussion?”

Chris gestured impatiently.  “Don’t be a fool, Doctor.  You know I do.  Just… tell us, goddamn it!”

She drew in a big breath, and gave a sharp nod.  “Just for the record, Chris.  Now… I’m assuming Buck gave you the general picture?”

“What, that a couple of shitbags dragged Vin off the street and fuckin’ raped him?” he snarled.  “Oh, yeah.  I got that one.”

She winced at the harsh ferocity.  “Yes, well… First, he’s suffered several blows to the head, resulting in a significant concussion.  His vision is blurred, and his eyes are very light-sensitive.  That should clear up within a few days.   He’s also got severe bruising along the left side of his body.  I can’t say for sure, but if I were backed into a corner I’d say he was struck by something large and blunt, very possibly a vehicle.  His wrists are badly abraded from the restraints.  He’s suffered quite a lot of overall bruising and battering, including significant bruising around the throat.  And then…”  She sighed regretfully.  “Then there’s the rest of it.  The most immediate issue is tearing to the anal sphincter.  He’s been aware enough that we were able to get him to scrawl his consent, and he’ll be heading to surgery to get that repaired as soon as we finish the X-rays and get a back-up signature from Mr. Larabee.  He’s not really coherent enough for his consent to be truly ‘informed.’  So far, there doesn’t appear to be any damage to his lower colon but we’ll take a direct look at it during surgery just to be sure. And we’ll be keeping an eye on him over the next couple of days for signs of trouble.”

Buck could feel the grooves his fingernails were impressing into his palms.  “He… How’s he doing, Doc?  You said he knows what’s goin’ on…”

“Well,” she frowned, “to some extent.  He’s disoriented and pretty uncommunicative, other than the occasional rather vocal objection.  We’ve set him up with appropriate IV’s and,” she grimaced, “ a Foley.  That didn’t go over well.”

“Damn,” Buck whispered.  “I reckon not.”

“We did a complete rape kit, though I understand that the identities of his assailants are already established.  A Detective Nick Adamson from the Denver Police Department has been in contact.  I’ll be talking to him as soon as I’ve finished with you two.”

Buck nodded.  “Nicky.  He’s a good man.”

“He’s going to want to talk to Vin, you know.”

Buck felt Chris’s body jerk and stretched his arm out to restrain the other man.  “We know.  Ease off, Chris.  Nick’s an old friend.  He knows the score, and he’ll do it the way it should be done.”

“You said… surgery, right?” Chris hissed through gritted teeth.  “So what about after, and how long are you going to be keeping him?”

“We’ll need to watch him for a day or so for the concussion, and I want to make certain that the antibiotics we’ve started are going to do the job.  Infection is a very real concern, and he doesn’t need that on top of all the rest of it.”  She assessed Chris carefully.   “And I’ll want him to see the psychologist.”

“Shit!”  Chris lurched to his feet and resumed his pacing.  “He’ll hate that, Doctor Stark.  You know Vin.  He’s never going to say anything that matters to a stranger!”

She shrugged slightly.  “Probably not, but there’s always the chance… This is something he might just talk to a stranger about before he’d talk to one of you.  And he’d be a very rare individual indeed if he could deal with this without help.”

“He is a very rare individual.”

“Yes, he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to shrug this off the way he does his usual run of injuries.”  She paused, apparently contemplating the state of his temper.  “There’s more.  We’ll need to schedule a course of testing for STDs.”

Chris froze, hands tightening into white-knuckled fists.  “Fuck!”

“Precisely.”  She tapped the seat of his abandoned chair.  “Sit, Chris.  Please.  We’ll run the first screens immediately, and we’ll test the… well, the men responsible.  Hopefully we’ll be able to rule most things out relatively quickly.  But you know…”

“HIV,” Chris grated, ignoring the chair.  “No way to know for sure.”

“Not for a while, at least.  We’ll set up appointments for the followup tests.  I need you and your team to promise me that you’ll make sure he keeps those appointments.  He’s almost certainly going to be in heavy denial over all of this.  You just can’t allow him to ‘accidentally’ miss those tests.”

Chris ran a hand through his disordered hair.  “That’s not going to be quite as simple a promise as you might think, Doctor.”

“Don’t give me that, Chris.  You must see to it.  You know he’s not likely to show much good sense about this.”

Buck leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees.  “Can you tell us how to… what we can… Shit!  How can we help him, Doc?  What do we say?”

“I really wish that were a question I could answer, Buck.”  A slight, sad smile curved her lips.  “Hundreds of articles, thousands of pages, have been written on subjects like that.  And I still can’t answer that question.  There’s no one, predictable way people react to this sort of thing.”  Her fingers tapped absently against the folder she held.  “And even if there were, this is Vin Tanner we’re talking about.  He’s always made his own rules.”

“That’s a lot of help, doctor,” Chris snapped.  “Give us a hand, here!”

She sighed.  “I can tell you that he isn’t likely to want to talk to you.  He’s going to want to be left alone.  This is typical of many rape victims, and we’re talking about the original lone wolf, here.  This is an incredibly humiliating experience.  It’s awful for a woman, and just as bad for a man, particularly one who’s so used to being so independent and capable.   It can be a devastating blow to the self image.  Not to mention the misplaced guilt.  And who is a man going to talk to?  His normal confidants would be other men, but it was men who did this to him.”

Chris dropped bonelessly back into his chair.  “Oh, God.  Damn, Vin.”  He buried his face in his hands.  “This is impossible.”

Buck gripped his shoulder.  “No it ain’t, big guy.  Ain’t nothing we can’t beat if all of us stick together.”

Doctor Stark nodded.  “Hang on to that, Buck.  I can’t tell you how to fix this, but I can tell you that he’s going to need all of you.  He’s going to snarl and snap at you, and it’s not going to be easy.  But alone is the last thing he needs, even if he is going to think it’s the only thing he wants.”

Buck met her eyes and nodded firmly.  “Ain’t no way we’re letting that boy go, ma’am.  He can bite and scratch and spit all he wants, but he belongs to us and we’re not letting him crawl off to feel sorry for himself.”

Chris lifted his head and nodded.  Buck tightened his fingers on Chris’s shoulder, then nodded gratefully as the doctor stood smiling at them.

“I have great confidence in the power of your team.  Vin couldn’t have better support.” She offered the clipboard.  “I just need a signature from Mister Larabee.  Vin isn’t really up to making sensible decisions just now.”

Buck took the forms from her and set them gently into Chris’s hands.  With a start, the other man glanced sharply up, then reached for the pen clipped to the board.  Buck squeezed his shoulder again, then stood to offer his hand to the doctor.

“Thanks, Doc.  Okay if we hang on to this room for a few minutes?  We got us a few things to finish straightening out.”

“You’re fine here until we need the room.  For now,” she made a gesture of gratitude toward the ceiling, “we’re pretty slow.  We’ll let you know when we need to kick you out.  And I’m assuming we’ll see the other four of you before long.  I believe you’re all familiar with the location of the surgical waiting room.  I’ll send word to you there when we’ve got Vin settled and ready for the six of you to move in.”  She shook her head at the thought, winked, and slipped out.

Buck shook the shoulder under his hand.  “You with me, stud?”

Chris nodded, then took a deep breath.  “I’m here.  Feeling like shit, but here.  God, Buck, how the hell do we handle this?”

“We handle it.  We remember who’s the real issue, and we deal.”

Scowling at the bigger man, Chris growled, “That easy, is it?”

Buck shrugged.  “Ain’t saying it’s going to be easy.  Saying there’s nothing else we can do but take care of things.  Be there, whether he thinks he wants us or not.  Give him the space he needs to work things out, without leaving him alone.”

“God, Buck!”  Chris rose sharply to his feet, again stalking back and forth across the tiny room.  “I managed to screw things up royally all by myself.  Then this…!”

“Hey!  You forget that little conversation we just had?  You remember who really matters right now, and forget about what’ll make Chris Larabee feel good.  We take care of one thing at a time, and whatever screwup the two of you managed before is gonna have to wait.”

Chris glared at him for a moment, then nodded sharply.

“Right, well, I figure the first thing I do is stop putting off the inevitable.  I gotta call the boys and tell them what’s happened.”  He pulled out his cell phone.  “I’d better go outside to call.  You want to stay here or come with me?”

Chris stood slowly, body moving like an old man’s.  “I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t particularly want to be by myself right now.  I’ll come along.”

Nodding, Buck slid his arm over his old friend’s shoulder and ushered him out the door.

At least the room had a halfway decent view.  Vin would appreciate that.

Chris grimaced at the dawn-brushed scenery.  Vin wasn’t likely to be paying much attention to the view in the near future.

Feeling the drag of irrational reluctance, he turned slowly away from the window, forcing himself to look at the unconscious man in the bed.  They’d brought Vin back from recovery, having assured Chris that he was awakening nicely from the anesthesia they’d administered for the surgery.

Flinching, he jerked his mind away from thoughts of that surgery.

Chris moved closer to the bed, then sank into a chair.  Vin’s lashes flickered, and he shifted slightly.  He’d been making a variety of small, incoherent sounds ever since they’d brought him in, but he hadn’t really come out from under the drugs. 

Chris stared at the younger man’s bruised face.  He’d clearly been struck more than once; there was bruising along one side of his face, and an impressive shiner was developing around his left eye.  Above the chest-high sheet, Chris could see the purpled skin around his throat—could almost imagine the outline of big, rough hands in the darkening marks.

With a kind of morbid, cringing fascination, he reached for and lifted the sheet, recoiling at sight of the massive bruising all along Vin’s left side.  Christ, what had those bastards done to him?

You know what they did, Larabee.  You know what you let them do.

He shook his head sharply.  Not his fault.  If he worked hard enough at it, surely he could convince himself that Buck was right.  That this horror was none of his doing.

But his heart told him otherwise. 

Oh, Vin.  I threw you away, and they picked you up.

He lifted his head sharply, the sheet slipping from his fingers, as the door swung open.

“Hey, pard.  How’s he doin’?”

“Moving around a bit.  Still hasn’t come out of it.”

Buck hooked the chair from the far side of the room and hopped, dragging it with his foot around the end of the empty bed.  He handed one of the white bags he carried to Chris as he sank into the purloined chair.

“Hope you wanted it with the works.”

Chris stared at the deli bag, feeling his stomach lurch in protest. “Thanks, but… I’m not really very hungry.”

“C’mon, Chris.  I know you haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday, and that was a hell of a long time ago.”

“Buck…”

“C’mon.  You know how hard it is to find any place serving decent takeout food at this hour?”

“I’m not…”

“Half.  Eat half of it.”

With a resigned sigh, Chris reluctantly opened the bag.  The scent was enticing, if a bit inappropriate for breakfast fare.  Maybe he could keep half a sandwich where it belonged.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by the sounds of rustling paper and masticating teeth.

Chris knew his old friend was watching him.  He kept his own eyes firmly on the food.

“You doing okay, Chris?”

“Fine.  I’m fine,” he bit out sharply.  “I’m not the one who…”

“Cut it out, Chris.  Don’t let’s buy any more problems than we already got.”

Chris laughed without humor.  “God, Buck.  I don’t think there’s enough in the budget to pay for this kind of trouble.”

“Maybe so, but we’ve got to keep our minds on the real issues, here.  No worrying about blame or guilt.  We’ve got other eggs to fry.”

Chris’s gaze moved irresistibly to the still, bruised face. 

Christ, Cowboy, you’re whiter than the damned pillowcase. Where you’re not blue and purple, of course.

“Is that what you call it?”

“Don’t matter what I call it.  He’s gonna need every bit we can give him; no time or energy available for beating ourselves up over why and whose fault.”

Chris shook his head wordlessly, then lurched to his feet as a soft moan sounded from the bed.

“Vin?”

Another moan, a shift of Vin’s head.  Long lashes fluttered, then slits of brilliant blue reflected the early morning light.  With a small whimper, Vin squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head fractionally away from the window.

“Buck…”

“Got it, Chris,” he answered as he pulled the curtains to block out the growing brilliance of a cloudless day.

Chris leaned over the bed, waiting.  Vin’s lashes moved again, and Chris’s breath quickened as they lifted and stayed open.

“Hey, Cowboy.”

Vin inhaled sharply, head swiveling back to face Chris. 

Buck’s gentle voice warmed the air.  “Hi, there, Junior.  Glad to have you back with us.”

Vin’s tongue peeked through his lips, brushing back and forth slightly before disappearing.  His gaze remained fixed on Chris’s face, brow furrowed.

“Here, Chris…” 

Chris accepted the cup of half-melted ice chips, then used the offered spoon to scoop one out.  Carefully, he brushed the spoon across Vin’s lips, letting the frozen tidbit slide through the small slit that appeared in response.

“Bet that feels pretty good, Vin,” Chris soothed, offering another small chunk to follow the first.  Again, Vin parted his lips slightly, allowing the ice to drop into his mouth.

The third offering was refused, Vin’s lips remaining firmly closed.  The creases between his brows deepened, his eyes narrowing as he stared up into Chris’s face.

“Lar’bee?”  Chris felt a chill brush his spine at the harsh, raspy whisper.

“It’s me, Vin.  Me and Buck.”

Vin’s mouth trembled slightly as it tightened.  “G’t out.”

The shiver turned to an avalanche.  “What?”

“’S’d g’t out!  Gedaway f’m me!” 

The anger sparking weakly from those brilliant eyes was unmistakable.

“Vin…” Chris whispered, reaching for one bandaged hand.  “C’mon, Cowboy.  It’s me.  Chris.”

“G’ ‘way, dammit!”  Vin’s hoarse voice rose in agitation, his hand jerking feebly in Chris’s hold.  “L’me alone, b’str’d!”

Buck leaned over Chris’s shoulder, reaching for the injured man’s shoulder.  “Easy does it, buddy.  Just calm down a bit.  You’re not thinkin’ too good yet, are ya?”

Vin convulsed away from the touch, yelping harshly in pain as he twisted onto his bruised side.  “Don’ touch me!  Lea’me ‘lone!”

The door swept open to admit the nurse who’d been monitoring Vin periodically since he’d been moved into the room.  “Gentlemen?  What’s going on?”

“He… he woke up.  But…”

“Getim outa here!” Vin’s voice was fading, shaking feebly.  “Don’ wan’m near me.”

“Mr. Larabee…”

“But…”

Buck gently pulled Chris away from the bed, then ducked around to the other side, reaching automatically for the anguished body, jerking his hand back before touching.

“Vin, Vin… Come on, buddy.  Ya gotta calm down, here.  You need to let Miss Nancy and me help you out.”  His voice was soft and monotonous, and Vin’s quivering eased as he began to listen.  “Look at me, pard.  C’mon, look.  It’s just ol’ Buck.  Just your old buddy, Buck.  C’mon, now…”

He crooned gently as the nurse quickly checked the various monitors.  She reached for Vin’s shoulder, then paused as Buck lifted his hand sharply.

Stunned, Chris watched as Buck slowly mended the damage caused by… by Chris.  Just by being here. 

Because Vin didn’t want him around.  Vin knew, even if Buck didn’t.  Vin knew whose fault this was.

“B…Buck?”  Vin’s thready voice had lost all of its bitter harshness.  ”’S ‘at you?”

“Yup.  Just me.  Okay if I touch you, buddy?  You got yourself into a bit of a fix, here.  Me ‘n’ Nancy gotta get ya straightened out, make ya a bit more comfortable.  Okay?”

After a tiny pause, Vin’s head nodded slightly.  “’Kay.”

“Good man.  Now here I come.  Just me, and pretty Nancy, right?”  Carefully, Buck gripped Vin’s shoulder and eased him over onto his back.  Vin’s body jerked and tensed as the nurse straightened his legs and adjusted the sheets, but eased at Buck’s soft reassurance.

“There ya go, Junior.  Easy, easy.” 

Chris was sure his heart was exploding.  It had expanded and filled up his chest, compressing and closing off his airway.  He couldn’t breathe.

Blindly, he turned and edged out of the room, brushed past the hovering members of his team, and strode toward the elevator.

Part 9