Countin' on a Miracle

by ros68

NEW VERSION. ATF Universe. An old enemy seek revenge against Chris and strange accidents started to happen. With Nathan out of commission, J.D. lightly injured and Buck and Chris pretty worried, what will happened on a blust when a flash of light is seen and Chris is on the line of the sniper? Vin will do anything to protect his friend, but at what cost?

1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know this is annoying, but please read my note to understand why I had to edit and repost this story, thanks.

The original version of this story, which I had written in 2004 in collaboration with my friend Chris, was posted on this website in 2013. At the time the story was made, I was not very good with writing the English language, so my friend Chris offered to write down my ideas, and together we should create the story I had in mind. Unfortunately, Chris put in it a lot of her ideas and the storyline changes drastically! It has changed so much that of my original idea has remained very little, just a few flashes here and there, and a lot of things didn't make sense!

And then rereading it once that I learned the English better, I noticed that it contains several grammars and typing errors too. So, I wanted to correct and modify the story, but real life been so busy that I never find the time to do it… till now.

For these reasons, I publish the story again in a version that I feel a little more mine than the original one; it's not exactly the idea I originally had in mind, but at least this version makes a lot more sense to me. :)

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SPECIAL NOTE:

This story was originally posted in May 2004 on my 'The Magnificent Seven Rides Again' website (now closed) and the original version it is still archived on 'Blackraptor' Website. This story was written in collaboration with my friend Chris.

Disclaimer: This story is the product of different minds coming together to have some fun. We have ownership over some new characters, but the rest belongs to CBS, MGM etc. (sniff!). It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy entertainment group, The Mirisch Corporation or anyone else may have legal rights to the characters, setting or song references. Also, the ATF/ AU universe was created by MOG, we are grateful to her for making such a wonderful universe for the "boys" and we hope she doesn't mind we have played in it.

The rights of the song "Calling all angels" are to Train, Brendan O'Brien and Sony music entertainment group.

Note: All medical and police procedure has no basis in fact, extracted only from TV.

Main Characters: This is manly a VIN / CHRIS story

Universe: ATF

Acknowledgements: The ATF / AU Universe belongs to MOG. Thanks, Mog!

Feedback: This was Chris first attempt of an M7 ATF story and the first one at all for me. We have committed mistakes, so please be nice, thanks.

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Countin' on a Miracle – Chapter One

by Chris and rosyvin in 2004 - edited by rosyvin in 2018

AUGUST 11 - Morning 8.00 a. m. – Office.

It was the second week of August and the temperature had already settled above the nineties. On Friday morning, in the empty and silent office, the air conditioner cranked up on high, the two younger members of the legendary Team 7 were enjoying a little "breakfast".

They had spent the whole night there, checking on lot of files and pinning photographs on the corkboard in the conference room, each one identified with a felt–tip pen. Each picture was cross–referred to the other so that the warehouse in which a big smuggling of weapons, had to be, could be visualized, according to Chris' instructions, at a glance.

Buck stepped into the office with a slight nod to his team's mates.

Tanner greeted him, "Howdy Bucklin, 'bout time ya showed up! Have a cup of coffee, it's already been saucered and blowed!"

"Did you make it?"

"Yeah," Vin, answered biting with delight into his huge "burrito".

"Damn! Reckon you have in mind to poison all the team with that lethal brew you claim is coffee, Slick."

"Never forced y' all on drinkin' it, Bucklin. Wanna eat somethin'? …So much th' better!" The Texan offered landing his friend a full tray covered with his favorite junk food he had on his lap.

"I'll die eat that stuff! I wonder how you two could "ingest" that kind of greasy grub so early in the morning! And look at the mess you did all over the office!" Wilmington blurted out, looking in dismay at the once immaculate room now littered with half–empty coffee cups, coke cans, wadded paper and empty pizza boxes.

"Can't help yer gettin' on in years, Bucklin, 'sides the kid and I had ta stay inta the darn office all the darn night while you were holed up in the warm bed of yers, and Larabee is in a foul mood this mornin' so quit yer yammerin' and let us have our darn breakfast" the sharpshooter drawled, rolling his eyes and nodding knowingly at the closed door at Wilmington's back.

"He came at 6 A.M, he didn't offer a "hello" or a "Good morning," and I can tell he's pissed off." J.D swiftly reported.

"How come?" Buck asked raising his eyebrows.

"Th'hell who knows!" Vin said, tossing his head.

"I'll talk to him," Buck stated, heading for Chris' office closed door.

"Watch yer back, pard, Larabee has a mite low boilin' point, ya feel me," Tanner teased.

Turning around to face the Texan, Buck said with a smirk, "Care if I try?" then knocked slightly on the door.

"Chris? " he called out warily.

From the inside came a growling reply, "Come in!"

The man in black raised his head from his desktop as Buck cautiously entered the room. The scoundrel scooped his friend, he was pale and had matching sets of bags under watery eyes.

"I guess you didn't sleep well, Chris."

"I didn't sleep at all!" The team's leader snorted.

"What's bothering you?"

Chris sighed. handing him a slip of paper, "It came by e–mail, read it!"

Buck looked it over quizzically, puzzled, then looked back at the words written on the front of the page and, clearing his throat, hesitantly began to read slowly.

Eight little ATF boys

Driving on Route Seventh.

One had a car crash,

And then they were seven

Seven little ATF boys

Gathering up sticks.

One chopped his leg

And then they were six.

Only six left… be careful LARABEE!"

"What the hell …" he muttered.

"Go on and get a look at the signature," Chris said, looking up at his old friend with an expression of impatience frozen on his face.

Again, Buck staring steadily at the paper read the name written under the poem, then shuddering he exclaimed,

"Murdock! The bastard's still around."

"Last night judge Travis had a car accident on the way to Denver, and just afterwards I had a call from Rain. She said Nathan had cut his left leg chopping some wood, not far from her house up in the mountains. She found him and was able to stop the bleeding, but she told me something's wrong for he had a very large bump on his forehead too," Chris stiffly reported.

"How are they doin'?"

"I dunno, Buck. I've sent Josiah to the hospital a couple of hours ago and still I haven't heard from him. But I won't tell anything about these "accidents" to the boys…" Buck nodded in agreement. Chris was right the kid and Junior had to be spared.

"It's a warning, Murdock wants all of us out of his business. All this is strictly connected with the big smuggling ring we discovered. I asked Ezra to get some information about the man. And he's still checking his files over maybe he'll turn up something new," Chris uttered, lowering his gaze on the desk.

He was aware that he was "mothering" the younger man, but he couldn't help himself.

That scruffy, stubborn Texan has got under his skin. Vin Tanner was now so important to him as Sarah and Adam had been in the past and the simple thought, he might lose him too, was haunting his very soul. Then there was Murdock. The man was just downright wicked. Wicked so as to frighten most people. He was nothing less than a murderer at heart. Moreover, he was wondering how he could protect Vin and all his team from such an old dodging devil. The message and the phone call had both intrigued and upset Chris and he had spent most part of the previous night turning and tossing, sleeping poorly, with the bedside clock shining a dull green light onto his face and his closed eyelids.

Wilmington broke the unpleasant silence by clearing his throat. Both of them for long minutes looked at each other as if some secret signal was passing between them. By the strained look on Wilmington 's face, Larabee realized that he didn't want to talk, which situated him. He rose to his feet and went past his old friend gripping the top of Wilmington 's thick shoulder.

"You look a bit spaced out."

Buck shrugged himself free." *I* was *fine*."

"I'm sorry," Chris's voice cracked and his mouth drew tight, betraying the strain he felt.

"I hate to interrupt, gentlemen," Ezra apologized, entering the office and handing some photographs out to Chris.

"These photos were taken a week ago in Denver's airport."

Chris studied the subject in a picture, a middle aged, thick man, in an expensive gray suit, a panama obscuring his coarse features, at his left side were two huge guys in dark, anonymous suites.

"Recognize those people?" Ezra asked pointing at the pictures.

"That's Murdock" Chris growled, "The other cutthroats to the man."

"Well, what do you think, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra urged as Chris studied the photos in his hands.

"My guess is," Chris snarled not quite answering Standish, "to have a look at whoever did this dance. I don't have to give you the lecture... All Murdock wants is to make a clean sweep of all our team, he is here to carry out a personal vendetta and he is devious and psychotic enough to do the work! I know him better than anyone alive!

So, we must pull out the stop on all this and bring him and his whole bunch down!"

"Mr. Larabee, I don't want to sound like I know it all, but my humble advice should be to be careful much more careful," Ezra hesitantly suggested.

The well–know Larabee's glare in all his deadly sharpness whitened the Southerner. "What do you want to do, Ezra, send flowers?" he snapped staring hard at the undercover agent, silencing him.

Then, holding his temper in check, but just barely Chris went on, "Let's go, we have a meeting, being less than one man, I asked for help and captain Forbes from Team 3 agreed to lend me four men and a driver."

He turned and crossing with his usual long strides the office gestured his men into the conference room where the agents from Team 3 were already waiting for them.

He positioned himself in the middle of the room and looking steadily at his audience, he gave a capsule summary of the situation.

"Well, I shall be brief and to the point, boys, we have been informed of a real big arms smuggling ring. From unofficial further investigation, we were able to find out the man in charge of this. Name's Murdock, Jack Murdock and he's described as a "tycoon" and a cool blooded murderer. He's here in Denver and he's going to make the first delivery on this same afternoon, in a warehouse not far from the airport. We are going to catch the bastard red handed. Ezra made the due arrangement to meet the man, introducing me as a "purchaser". The meeting is to be at 3.00 p.m. On the pictures on the walls, you can see the setting of the whole place and the positions you had to take in it. Tanner will cover our backs from the scaffolding in the middle of the building. The others will be scattered all around, two men at every door in the front and in the back, three agents in the truck outside to prevent the flight of our target. Any answer?"

The men studied carefully the photographs and discussed for a while but there was very little to say, this was a routine job.

Chris looked at his watch, it was only 11.00 A.M. "You are dismissed! I want to give to you all time for lunch." He said, ending up the meeting.

"That's jist fine, I'm starved'," Vin drawled.

"Damn, Tanner, your system needs a break, you are eating me out of house and home!" Buck groaned.

"Got ta keep my strength ta watch yer sorry butt, Bucklin…" Vin shot back, then turning to J.D. he asked,

"What about a little brunch at Inez's, kid?" And putting his cap back and upwards on his always unruly locks, he rose to his feet and ambled to the door.

"That sounds great!" J.D cried out, as he eagerly followed his lanky team-mate on the way to the elevator.

The older men returned to Chris' office.

Larabee lit a cigarette and took a long pull, staring at his old friend.

Nobody said anything for a minute or two.

"You want that bastard, Chris."

"Yea, I want him, pard."

"Then you'll have him. You got a right!"

"Thanks, Buck." Chris said.

"See ya," smiled back Wilmington then whirled on his heel and exited the room.

AUGUST 11 - Afternoon – Somewhere not far from Denver International airport.

They met at two 'o clock in the parking lot of the Federal Building, gathered their weapons and loaded into the trucks waiting for them. The building they reached was an abandoned hangar. On the pavement were scattered empty crates and boxes; most part of the roof had collapsed, littering the ground with every kind of debris. The team's member broke up and headed of their destinations, Chris looked carefully around and then gestured Vin to take up position. With cat–like grace the young man climbed the ladder.

It was a very hot afternoon and beads of sweat were running on his face as he stretched out on the scaffold. He smiled by himself **Damn, if I had my kevlar vest on, I'll be drenched ta the bones, by now. Thanks God, Chris didn't notice it.**

He waited, looking at the opened front door of the building, motionless. From his point of view, he could see the truck in which Josiah and two members of Team 3 were standing, and the dark figure of his best friend with Ezra at his side in the middle of the room. Turning a bit to his right he scooped Buck and three other agents at the back door.

For a few second, he wondered where Nathan could be, but this answer was thrown out his mind as he heard a car screaming to a stop in the parking area of the warehouse. He looked down and he saw just behind it a black truck pulling in. Five men got out of the truck, their gun drawn, positioning themselves at the two sides of the car and from it got out a dark man and two very tall, thick guys dressed in white jeans and purple t-shirt. The man barked a command and his thugs spread over the ground and entered the warehouse. Ezra greeted the newcomers. They talked for a while and then Chris approached bringing a leather suitcase, he opened it and showed its content to the man, that turned and motioned for the truck. At once, a very heavy box was brought into the building and quickly unsealed revealing the deadly object of the "merchandize".

Larabee leaned on the box, picked up an automatic rifle and examined it.

Suddenly, a fat man came out of the parked car.

He approached the group, laughing.

"Hello Larabee, nice to meet you again!" He cried out.

"Murdock!" Chris shouted.

"Kill 'em, they are Feds!" Murdock hollered.

Vin clenched his teeth as he noticed two bodyguards pointing their guns at Chris and Ezra across the warehouse.

He coldly lowered his rifle, took aim and fired twice in succession dropping both men. A minute later the agents rushed shouting and firing into the building, looking at the turmoil under him, the sharpshooter sighed in relief as he saw that his best friend and Ezra had found shelter into the little office near the front door.

He heard footsteps running and of several screams as Buck launched himself into the large room from the back door and shot out cold three of their opponents as another agent took out two more of them.

"Only two left," Vin, thought, smiling.

His eagle's eye scooped the room and he froze. Murdock was slowly making his way through the piles of boxes and crates. He cursed softly as the man disappeared behind huge machinery, then he was again in his sight, just at Chris' back. He followed him through the scope of his rifle and let his finger pull the trigger. All happened too fast like in a nightmare, he heard the bark of his own weapon and its familiar kick against his shoulder and at the same time in his view, Murdock's head was replaced by J.D.'s upper body. The kid was just behind Murdock and having him in sigh, had abruptly broken his cover to fire at him.

Vin jumped to his feet, "J.D.! Nooo!" He cried out.

At Vin's frantic cry, Buck turned and saw the younger man hitting the ground, holding his bloody left shoulder.

"J.D.!" he called out running across the warehouse.

He dropped to J.D 's side, "How ya doing, kid?"

"Just a scratch, Buck," the boy murmured, panting hard.

"How are ya feelin'?"

"Hurts some."

"I wish Nathan were here!" Buck muttered, taking pressure on the wound with his handkerchief as J.D. moaned pitifully and went limp in his friend's arms.

Buck swore and looked up at Vin, still standing, pale and shaken on the scaffolding. The Texan lowered his weapon, and let his arms fall along his flanks, he had no choice, he must face his failure, but his soul won't accept it.

He had to climb down, join his mates and then he would confront Chris.

Vin shuddered in the prospect of facing the man, of feeling those piercing, green eyes peer into his most carefully hidden thoughts, as he always so easily was able to. It wasn't going to be pleasant.

The weary young man closed his eyes against the world for a few moments, trying to control his racing heart.

"Get down, little bastard, what are you waiting for?"

Buck's deep voice cut into Vin's thoughts like a sharp blade.

Vin stared at the hard, unsmiling face.

"I'm sorry, Bucklin, it's m' fault, I know," he breathed.

"When I get my hands on you, Tanner, I'll leave you for the worms to chew on! Get down, scum, get down. I'd like to tear you apart with my bare hands!"

Buck's handsome face was hard as a rock and there was hatred in the menacing tone of the voice.

"Buck! That's enough! Leave him alone! It was a damn mistake," Larabee hollered.

"Hell, Chris the kid could be dead by now because of the "damn mistake" of your precious friend!" Buck shouted back in anger, facing Larabee.

"Calm down, Brother Buck, please!" Josiah intervened, pulling his powerful frame between the team's leader and his bewildered friend. "J.D. is still alive. Thank God."

"Okay, okay. Get down, Tanner, I'll shoot you… later," Buck snapped without a hint of humor in his tone, bending on J.D.

Chris glanced at the sharpshooter, Vin was shivering hard, his eyes pointed at some place outside the warehouse.

"Vin, you okay?" He shouted out.

The Texan didn't answer, something was wrong, he could feel it. His sharp gaze scanned the upper places outside the large windows and at last he scooped the man, nestled on the top of a half-ruined water tower, facing the building, but it was too late.

The sniper's barrel came up and Vin saw the flash, and at the same time a shot echoed.

Vin cried out as a searing pain hit him square in the chest and he fell in a heap over his best friend's body.

All the men in the warehouse started to fire at the water tower, but the sniper was gone.

Chris tried to free himself from the death weight on his top and froze, something warm and sticky was dripping down his shirt.

"Buck! I need help here!" He shouted at his mustached friend, as he gently rolled the injured man over. "Damn it!"

He groaned looking at the blood already soaking the young man's white t–shirt just a few inches from his heart.

Tanner whimpered painfully. "Chr..ss," he managed to breath.

"Hush Tanner, you've been shot, lay still."

"That figger... Where's he?"

"The sniper?"

"Yes"

"Gone."

"Damn!" Vin muttered and then hissed in pain "…hurts.." he murmured shifting pain-clouded, wide eyes from his own bleeding chest to Chris' pale face.

"That's.… bad?"

"Seen worse," Chris lied, avoiding the scrutinizing blue pools, "shut up, Tanner."

"Buck… where is Buck?" The Texan groaned.

"Right here, Slick, take it easy, don't try to talk," the ladies' man soothed, taking hold of the sharpshooter's limp hand.

"I'…. So sorry... Bucklin... so sorry fer the kid... it'se m' f..." Vin slurred as his head slumped down onto Chris' shoulder.

Chris cursed under his breath, looking at his unconscious friend in his arms.

And sudden he realized the fact that Murdock had carefully planned what could have happened to all of them, without Nathan's help.

"The ambulance is on its way," Ezra informed, then paused staring at Vin's colorless face, as his lips trembled.

In the distance they could hear an approaching siren. A few minutes' later two paramedics in blue EMT coveralls strode into the warehouse.

"Please move back" the first medic ordered.

Kneeling at Chris' side he pried his arms off the younger man, who was now on his back, struggling vainly for breath, the blood coming evenly out of his chest and onto his shirt which was drenched with it.

The medic took off the t–shirt, ripping it with a little knife, and looked at the wound in Vin's right chest wall between the fourth and the fifth rib. He probed the hole, murmuring. "Struck the fourth rib, cracked it – deviated across the sternum – damn the bullet is still in and badly lodged – meant to kill the boy, the bastard!"

There was a little bleeding now around the injury's site and at every painful intake of breath, foaming blood bubbles exited from the wound. "Damn! It's a sucking chest's wound!" The medic exclaimed.

"What does it mean?" Chris asked, frowning.

"His chest wall is punctured, the sucking sound you hear when he is breathing is caused by air leaking in his chest cavity."

The man didn't make any attempt to clean the wound, but he immediately sealed it with his hand. Quickly he started to wrap the dressing around Vin's body, maintaining pressure. Then he waited until the injured man breathed out and when he held his breath, taking the bandage in place, he tied the knots just after Vin's chest fell again.

He continued for a while on taking his hands pressed on the dressing to control the bleeding as the other paramedic applied an IV on Vin's arm.

Carefully they lifted the limp body and laid it on a gurney, bent on the injured side to ease the patient's breath.

The paramedic spoke at his radio, "Here's Anderson, patient's 30 years old, chest sucking wound, no other injuries, pulse weak but regular, some trouble breathing, occlusive dressing applied. I need a trauma unit." Once more he checked on Vin's breath and pulse and then hollered, "Hurry up!" They lifted the stretcher and made their way to the waiting ambulance, where the ambulance crew had already taken J.D.

As the men loaded up the gurney with the unconscious agent Chris tried to climb in, but the paramedic stopped his attempt. "Please, mister, we have two wounded men on board, there is no more place left, I'm sorry."

The man in black sighed and shook his head. " 'right, I'll follow you," he muttered turning to his truck.

AUGUST 11 - Evening - St. Joseph hospital.

Rain saw Chris entering the ER, she quickly crossed the muddied reception's area and caught up with him.

"How is he doing?" He asked.

"I must tell you the truth, Chris, very low, the bullet is badly lodged near his heart and the fever is already far too high." Rain's dark eyes filled with tears, "We hope it will come down when we have extracted the bullet. We been able to stabilize him and now he's in the pre-operating room, he's being prepared for surgery."

"Am I allowed to see him?"

"... Ok, but just for a few moments... He never regained consciousness. I wish Nathan were here!"

"I too, girl, I too." Larabee whispered.

Before entering the pre-operating room, they wear sterile lab coats.

There were three nurses on duty, which seemed very busy. Rain nodded at them and they retired while Chris faced Vin, whose bed had been adjusted so that his head was in a semi–upright position.

His smooth chest was barely moving, his fine chiseled features as white as the thin sheet covering his naked body.

Chris reached for the slender hand, lying on the mattress, but Rain gently took hold of his forearm.

"Chris, please don't. The nurses bathed him with a special soap to kill the germs, right now, they are preparing him for surgery… you know..."

The blonde nodded, sadly, he would like to touch his friend, to feel he was still alive, he would like to hold tight and to comfort his little brother.

He stepped to the bed and shutting firmly his moistening eyes he murmured. "Vin, it's me, Chris, please, hang on... hang on for the boys... for me, I beg you!"

Rain glanced at the motionless form on the bed and shuddered in surprise as with a faint wail Vin turned a bit his curly head towards Larabee.

"Chris!" She exclaimed, "he can hear you, I can't figure out how, but he knows you are here."

Nathan had explained her the strange sort of link between the two.

** "Rain, they can speak to each other without words, they can share thoughts and feelings as if they were next of kin!" **

Reminding now of Nathan's words she smiled at Chris. "That's good. He knows he's not alone, that there is someone caring for him and so I'll find the strength to fight for his life."

"He is a fighter, Rain, he'll never give up!" Chris firmly stated.

"Vin, can you hear me?" he whispered, the young man didn't move, but his eyelids fluttered. "You're not alone, me and the boys are here, and I'll be here as long as you need me," Chris murmured, wishing to brush slightly the tousled head to comfort Vin.

"It's time, Chris," Rain urged as two nurses entered the room and carefully wheeled Vin out of the room. "I'll stay with him all the time." Rain assured.

She shivered as she entered the cold OR room.

Then she took her sorrowful eyes on Vin as he was laid on the hard-operating table and stripped to be washed once more while his arms and ankles were secured with straps to it. As long as there was the procedure to focus on, she felt as if she could keep from exploding. She watched as the tubes and the needed devices were placed and attached to the wiry body wincing as Vin flinched reflexively as the needles stung his aching flesh.

But she felt a cold hand gripping his throat at the first incision as she saw the blood. This was one of the dozens of surgeries she had observed, but she had never experienced before this cold, deliberate ooze in the slow track of the scalpel from the body of a friend.

"We will have to raise the rib… up, up a little more…." the surgeon was muttering and in Rain's ears echoed the metallic clash of instruments. Then directions again. She swallowed hard and let her eyes shut.

"Here it is," the surgeon said, "Mc Fee, is the bullet whole?"

"Yes, doctor, quite whole."

"Thanks God!"

Rain forced her eyes to open and looked at Tanner, the young man's face was now gray, his breath swallow.

Her gaze moved down to Vin's chest, she could see deep into the throbbing cavity, then the surgeon's back hid the wound to her sight.

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The vast ER unit of St. Joseph hospital was in noisy but controlled disarray. The drama and the energy of the place was palpable to Chris as he sat in the little waiting room. Barely aware of Buck and Josiah at his sides, he stared numbly at the wall, fear mounting in his chest and in his throat and the sight of Vin lying in a pool of blood on the ground still in his mind.

A young, tall doctor in white stepped into the room.

"One of you is Mr. Wilmington?" he asked cheerfully.

Buck jumped on his feet.

"How is the kid, doc?"

The young doctor looked up at the tall, mustached man in surprise.

"I'm allowed to speak about our patient's condition only to close relatives," he murmured, frowning.

"The kid has got no family, doctor, we all are his "family", Chris answered in a low, steady tone as stood up facing the younger man.

"My name is Larabee, Chris Larabee, I'm J.D.'s boss and the others his mates from the ATF team 7."

Stretching his hand towards him the young doctor smiled broadly. "I'll be proud to shake your hand, Mr. Larabee, your team is a living legend in Denver!"

"Glad to meet you," Chris said, vigorously shaking the thin young doctor's hand. "Now, what about the kid?"

"Mr. Dunne is coming along well. The bullet went straight through, it'll take a few minutes to get him settled in his room."

"Thanks, Doc," Chris said and then after a painful pause, he asked, glancing at the empty corridor behind the doctor's back, "you have got another of my men here, what about him?"

"I'm sorry, I've heard he's still in surgery and that Dr. Anderson is operating on him, she's one of the best. I'll see what I can find out. Why don't you wait in the OR waiting rooms? It's more comfortable and I'll send someone to update you as soon as we have news." the doctor said and hurried to the door.

Chris fought to control his jangling nerves, as fists clenches, he let himself fall onto the chair again with a deep sigh, closing his eyes.

Josiah calmly approached him "Chris, go upstairs, I'll be there in a few, just the time to assure myself that the kid is alright.

Chris sat up, and after nodded to Josiah and Buck he hurried to the elevator to the OR waiting room.

AUGUST 12 - Early morning - St. Joseph Hospital - Denver.

Short technical remark, a blur of competent activity and after a few hours, there was Vin, his chest encircled by the white bandages, sponged, relaxed into a deep slumber.

Rain smiled in relief.

"It's over," she thought.

"Rain, you look wholly pale yourself, don't worry, we'll take good care of him," Lyn, the surgeon's assistant said, putting a warm, reassuring hand on the young doctor's slumped shoulder, "you need a break, he's in good hands, besides he's going to need you later."

The woman guided her towards the exit of the operating room and to the elevator.

"As soon they settle him down in the control room, I'll come to get you," she promised, Rain was starting to protest she would stay but Lyn resolutely put a finger to her lips and led her out of the swinging doors, where Dr. Anderson is waiting for her so they can go to talk with the family together.

Chris was waiting in the OR waiting room when Rain and the surgeon approached him, her sorrowful eyes on the man's pale and tense face, then drawing a deep breath, she spoke.

"Chris, she's Dr. Anderson, the surgeon who operated on Vin."

She looks at Chris and then start to explain "Because of his wound, his left lung collapsed, and the bullet was badly located, so it took a good deal of time to extract it, he also lost a lot of blood, but he got through the surgery. Right now, he's in critical condition and he's on a ventilator. We must wait and monitoring him very closely in the next few hours. We're moving him in ICU and he will be under Dr. Mason care, but I'll be paged if anything is needed. He's in good hands. Someone will come to update you all later."

After a few minutes, Chris shake the Doctor's hand and said, "Thank you Doctor." She gives him a little smile and then leave him and Rain in the OR waiting rooms.

Once the Doctor leave, the team's leader turn to Rain "What about some coffee? Buck brought some sandwiches too from the cafeteria," he offered.

"Just some coffee, thanks!" the girl replied as she gratefully accepted the steaming cup and drained it.

"Got news for you, Nathan will be dismissed tomorrow morning, he's waiting for us in his room. Josiah is with him."

A warm sense of comfort filled Rain's soul. She sighed in relief and then she whispered, "I'll come, but I want to stop at the chapel to light up a candle in front of Mother's Mary statue."

"I didn't figure out you were a catholic," Chris said in wonder.

"No, I'm not, but Vin's mother was, and I feel she is here now... in soul… counting on a miracle."

"Mind if I join you?" Chris asked with a smirk.

"You are welcome, Mr. Larabee," Rain whispered softly, clasping Chris' hand.

AUGUST 12 - Late morning - St. Joseph Hospital - Denver.

Murdock sat hiding behind the morning paper in the waiting room of the hospital, as if awaiting a friend, he had planned carefully this "visit".

After his fortunate escape from the warehouse he had been able to collect all the information he needed to end up with team 7. Being a compulsive planner, he had adapted and adjusted his plan to suit the moment. Focusing almost single–mindedly on bringing Larabee to his knees, and now here he was taking personally care of his task.

He eyed each person looking for his target, the ICU doctor. Finally spotted his man, a tall, lean man in his fifties.

The man was heading for his office. Murdock followed him, keeping a decent distance. Then he checked the corridor and the hall, they were empty. He paused about five minutes, holding his breath and then silently slipped into the office.

The doctor was sitting at his desk, eyes half closed, muttering to him. His face was the color of clay. On the table was a container filled with a little amount of some white stuff. Murdock approached.

"Doctor Mason?"

The older man shivered and stared at him, frowning. "Who are you?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"I could say, I'm a friend of yours," Murdock laughed, a little too loudly and pointed his thick lips and little arrogant eyes on the doctor's sweaty face.

"I've never seen you before! Who are you?" Mason asked swallowing.

Now he was looking largely puzzled, his eyes wide with fear under his steel-rimmed glasses.

Murdock leaned on the table; he took the small container, dipped his coarse finger into the powder and sniffed it, nodding in appreciation.

"My compliments, doc, that's good white stuff."

"What the hell are you playing at?" The doctor murmured.

"Calm down, doc, I've just told you I'm a friend. A friend who knows your little secret and I'm willing to help you and on the other hand, you might be as well a very good help on a little business of mine."

"What are you talking about?" Mason exhaled, licking his dried lips.

"About a patient of yours, doc."

"I… I don't understand."

"You had better to… Mason, for your own sake."

"What?" the older man whispered.

"Well, name's Tanner, Vincent Tanner… I want him dead."

For a moment, the doctor lost his faculty to speak. Then he managed to utter, "You can't ask me to do such an awful thing!"

"Look, doc, the man is barely alive, a little loss of blood, a wrong medicine and he's done for, without any suspect on you, he sustained open heart surgery…"

"No… you can't ask me this!"

"Doctor Mason," Murdock said with a deep sight, "I'm afraid you may have more problems than either of your thoughts. What about your precious mind, what about your skills without the stuff my men so liberally offered you for so many… years? And what if I'd "share" my findings on your "habit" with some VIP in here?"

The doctor frowned, his haggard, old face flushing in anger and shame.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" He muttered his voice dull and metallic.

"No, Mason, I 'm simply asking for help, you know what I mean…you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours…"

AUGUST 12 - Late afternoon - ICU

It seemed to Vin he was down in the darkness for a very long time, he felt himself swimming off into misty darkness. The fog crept down on him, hanging straight up in the air. Time stood still. He slipped off the edge of the world into mist and silence.

Lights flickered behind his eyelids and he became aware of the bed in which he was lying and of the tightness of the sheets. A little later he became aware of the lines and tubes attached to his body, of the tube down his throat and of the straps holding him down on his back. He couldn't speak, and he couldn't move!

Confusion flooded his senses, he panicked and weakly thrashed back and forth, with a piteous moan.

The kind face of a young nurse peered on him, a gentle hand brushes his cheek.

"Please, Mr. Tanner, try to hold still."

Pointing on her his blue confused eyes, Vin tried again to speak but the tube only allowed him to gasp, then cough.

"I'm Jeanie, your nurse, I'll take care of you, I'm going to ask you something, don't try to speak, only answer me nodding yes or shaking your head no."

"Are you in some pain?" Fighting to roll back eyelids that weighted a ton, Vin looked up at her and moaned again, his chest was killing him, and he felt vulnerable and uneasy, strapped as he was on the narrow bed.

The nurse looked at his patient's scowling face and with motherly concern removed a damp strand of light brown curls from his forehead.

"I know, all these lines and tubes are uncomfortable, but I can't take them off, they will be removed in a day or two, for now try to breath and relax," she said, in a reassuring tone, "you had had open heart surgery and you need all of them to recover."

Vin let his eyes shut and tried to concentrate his muddled mind on breathing. Nevertheless, confused as he is, he badly wanted those darn things removed and began to thrash again, fighting his bounds, he was so uncomfortable that he couldn't help but thrash.

The nurse frowned "Pam!" She called out and another little fat nurse appeared behind her, "Stay with him, I'm going to find doctor Mason," she said, hurrying to the door.