Chris

I can hold Cain for 24 hours without charging him but then I have to let the dirt bag go if we get nothing from him. It's worth a try. Drop a few hints, tell him a few lies, stay just this side of the law, sweat him good. We all take turns. Can't play good cop, bad cop. No volunteers for good cop.

Cain

I love this! I fucking love this! Seein' the sweat soaking those funeral clothes Larabee always wears. He's so pissed he can hardly see straight. And that big goon Sanchez, he looks like he wants to tear me apart with his bare hands. But I got my rights. It's been twenty-four hours and I ain't said a word. I could even catch some sleep in between interrogations. Now I'm waitin' for my fuckin' lawyer. Five hundred dollars an hour. You'd think he'd be down here with fuckin' bells on to get me on the clock.

So they found that schmuck, Standish. So what? I'm not worried. That guy was toast way before he disappeared, a real psycho. I still can't believe what a stupid motherfucker Larabee is. Sending his bad boys in to set me up. He think I wouldn't know when I'm being set up? I can smell a Fed a mile away. Oh, they're good all right...only I'm better. Besides, I know the workings of this place inside and out. Pays to spread a little cash around. A little cash? Hell, a whole lotta cash. These cops practically want benefits and a pension for bein' on the take for Christ's sake.

Charge me with attempted murder of a federal agent. That's good. More like the attempted murder of a psycho who shot his own men. Standish was practically a drooling idiot when I got through with him. I bet Larabee would be surprised at how his hand picked FBI agent took to the junk, like a duck to water. It was beautiful. Hell, we only had to tie him down and shoot him up for three days before he was tying himself off and shooting up like a real pro.

I still can't believe all the shit we pumped into him. He must have the mother of all habits. Would have been a good investment, too, if those two motherfuckers had died. Fucked 'em up pretty good though and, with the others lookin' for the loser, things have cooled down enough for me to transact a little business with my amigos in South America.

Yeah, I knew Standish would love the stuff. I could see it in his eyes when the pissant and the other two clowns showed up. People with sad eyes always like horse. Dulls the pain of rememberin'. Heroin was made for sad people. I count on it.

The other drugs, they ain't for no one, sad, glad or indifferent. My drug man, a guy known only as 'the Chemist', told me that shootin' Standish up with a little would make him spill his guts. He told me everything I wanted to know. Pump him full of the crap, hold back his next fix and he'll say anything, do anything. Anything! Keep him shootin' up and the other stuff only gets worse.

It was fun watchin' him, so smooth and sure of himself at first, then a shivering, crying, begging piece of crap. I almost put a bullet in his head myself he was so pathetic. Wish Larabee could'a seen his boy. I loved fuckin' with him, showin' him pictures of the others, tellin' him they was gonna kill him if he didn't kill 'em first, watchin' the fear take hold.

And 'The Chemist', what a sadistic motherfucker he turned out to be, reachin' right into Standish and ripping out his soul. The Fed didn't even know who he was when we dropped him off at the longhaired fag's place in that shit-hole Purgatorio. He was like a fuckin' robot, with places to go and people to kill. If that dumb fuck Hayes hadn't let him get away I know I could've gotten him to kill the others and then blow his own fuckin' brains out.

I'm tired of this fuckin' bad cop-badder cop routine. The others are lined up outside to take another crack at me but I see my lawyer staring down the ATF bad asses. Larabee will never pin this on me. He can't tie me to anything illegal in this state includin' the murder of his wife and brat. Much as I'd like to have pulled that one off I can't take the credit.

Thank God, Dumont's finally here. Now I can go upstairs, give my statement and get the fuck outta here and see about suein' thr shit outta these bastards.

Chris

I refuse to sign the papers, damn it! I'm not convinced my man went rogue of his own volition and I'm not about to terminate him until I'm sure. If any of this is Ezra's own doing I'll crucify him myself. The doctors don't know if he's ever coming back from where he is now. He may end up a raving lunatic, forever lost in the bowels of some institution and, if I don't sign the discharge papers, the department picks up the tab for as long as he lives.

I also refuse to call Maude. Everyone says she has a right to know but Ezra has a right to be protected from Mommy Dearest. I'm his family right now; we're his family. I have his power of attorney and will do my damnedest to keep him from any more harm.

The Jag's on its way back from California and his rent's been paid. I'm paying his other bills to keep the wolves at bay. Now if I can only keep IAD away from the door. They've come up with some pretty damaging testimony straight from the jackal's mouth as it were. Cain puked his imagination all over them. It looks pretty grim for Ezra. Judge Travis is reading Cain's statement right now.

Orin

I can't believe this man is demanding charges be filed against Agent Standish and the others. I love good fiction and this is 100% pure, grade A, bullshit! Says, after a week of negotiating what he thought was a legitimate business deal, Standish told him who he really was and tried to cut a deal with him. For a large sum of money, instead of busting him, Ezra would help trap Chris Larabee and the others in their own sting. Standish would return to ATF headquarters, set up the buy and feed the needed information back to Cain, allowing the others to walk right into a trap. Here's where it gets good.

Being the fine upstanding citizen he is Cain tells Ezra he has absolutely no idea what he's talking about. He's not in the gun or drug business, not now, not ever, and threatens to turn him over to the authorities. Ezra threatens to kill him and Cain insists the agent was escorted to the gates of the compound and booted out, in perfect health. Nothing matches, not the times, days or dates. This whole thing is hinky but as much as I hate to I have to accept this as the truth until Agent Standish is able to make his own statement. I have no reason to continue to hold Cain. I have to let the bastard go and add to the mountain of charges already filed against Agent Standish.

Vin

I guess you could call it a promotion a sorts. 'Stead of one guy guardin' Ezra, now there's two. I walk on up to the good ol' boys and say howdy wonderin' if the dingy hall lights are hurtin' their eyes 'cause both of 'em are wearin' sunglasses.

One's the no-neck dickhead we all want to knock into next week. New one's just about as big, with a crew cut that makes his head look like a block a wood sittin' on his thick neck. He's wearin' a gun bigger 'n the meanest bad ass in ATF. Must be fresh in from Quantico'd be my guess.

I go through the signin' in bullshit and hand over my piece. Sonny boy snorts. I just shrug. I ain't never had a case of firepower envy and, as Buck always says, 'What separates the men from the boys in law enforcement as well as love is the skill a the shooter, not the size a the gun.

The stink of the room hits me full on when I go inside. There's windows but they're bolted shut, the glass painted over. Ez is layin' on the same small bed, flat on his back, arms still strapped down, leg still cuffed to the frame. His eyes are closed and a shiver runs through 'im. Blood trickles down the side of his mouth where he's bitten his lip. I grab my bandanna and wipe most of it away. He opens his eyes and his face gets even whiter, if that's possible. He's coming back to us now but it's a mean trip.

He recognizes me and hisses out the word "no". He closes his eyes again, shakin' his head back and forth, repeatin' the word. Suddenly he bucks up pulling on the restraints. I can only imagine what it must be like to be havin' such pain and not be able to wrap your arms around your gut 'til it passes. Hell, he can't even wipe his nose!

I unbuckle the restraints, pick the cuff lock and pull 'im up to sit next to me on the bed. "Vin" is all he can croak out before more pain hits 'im and he holds on for all he's worth, rockin' back and forth. "Yeah, it's me, pard," I tell 'im and wipe his face, his nose. "You musta been havin' an off day. Bullet only nicked me."

"Oh, God" he says through chatterin' teeth. The room is stinkin' and hot as Hades but Ezra's freezin' in his hospital duds. I watch his eyes. He's checkin' me for a piece. I don't worry 'bout me, Ez'd never hurt me again...but I can see desperation in those eyes now. He'd splatter his brains all over the wall in a New York minute if he could get his hands on a gun.

A nurse walks in, clipboard in hand, shootin' daggers my way with her eyes. "Mr. Standish is to be restrained at all times," she says headin' our way. One thing ma Momma taught me 'fore she died was to always be polite to women so I ask her to "PLEASE get away from me 'n' AGENT Standish and to PLEASE get the fuck outta the goddamn room". She's outta here in a shot...to squeal on me no doubt. Ez looks over at me, a tiny bit 'a sparkle in his eyes. "Thanks" he whispers, his throat raw and dry.

I help him to drink some a the juice that's been left on the tray table. He drinks like a man dyin' a thirst but not ten seconds later it's all back up...all over him, all over me. I get a towel and clean us up as best I can. I cover 'em with a blanket 'cause now he's shakin' somethin' fierce. I take a few ice chips from the glass and pop 'em into his mouth. They seem to do the trick. Takes 'bout a week for the worst a goin' cold turkey to be over with.

The doctors and Chris want us to stay outta the way 'til it's over but I gotta few days a vacation left. What can they say if I call in and tell 'em I won't be in? That I'm sittin' up with a sick friend.

Ezra

I cannot take much more of this. I am more than ready to check out. I now know why it is called cold turkey. I am so cold, so very cold. Mr. Tanner is here. He is not a ghost. He is real, very much alive, and here with me. He tries to keep a blanket on me but I shiver it off again and again. It hurts my skin, like a blanket made of ice. I almost shake the poor man off the bed begging for something to drink all the while. He keeps helping me to drink; I keep vomiting it back up on him.

I cannot stop the events set into motion, the shedding of the drugs, the return of my memories and the smothering guilt. I would if I could. I would stop it all right now. I would kill myself if I had the means. I would find the nearest dealer, shoot up until I could not see straight, put the barrel of my Sig in my mouth and pull the trigger. And I would do it with great joy in my retched heart.

I wrap my arms around myself when the pain comes again. My head spins. Vin tucks the blanket under my chin. He talks to me, his voice soothing. He speaks of our past together. That is all we have now...a past. If I do not go to prison for what I have done, I am leaving as soon as I am able. The ties that once bound have been severed, shot cleanly through. I see him touch his abdomen from time to time, right where I shot him. I am a loose cannon and a drug addict, fine qualities for an ATF agent. No one will trust me enough to work with me again. Hell, I do not even trust myself not to get fixed up as soon as I leave here.

Another wave of pain washes over me. Vin wipes my face. Sweat streams from my pores and snot from my nose...a pretty picture indeed. I cannot take the degradation and having him here is so very painful. I think he realizes the pain his visit causes but he stays, as uncomfortable as it may be for him, too. I know he is not a vindictive man, he is only trying to help but it is punishing for me to have him here.

He speaks again of old times. We do have a long, rocky history. Three years of working together, bringing bad guys to justice, shooting and being shot at but I now bring new meaning to 'Watch your back'.

J.D.

I'm not supposed to be here. Neither is Vin but I see him through the window holdin' Ezra as he thrashes around on the bed. I guess neither of us wants him to go through this alone. I step back from the glass when the picture of him shooting me flashes through my mind...again. He shot us!

Vin was hurt far worse than me but he ignored Chris' order to stay away and came anyway. So did I. I want to believe it was all a terrible mistake. Buck and Nathan's distrust of Ezra's motives makes me wonder sometimes. Maybe he can tell me something now. I need to know or I think I'll go nuts.

Vin looks up at me when I come inside. A look of surprise then genuine relief crosses his face. Ezra's eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot. He looks at me. It takes him a minute to recognize me. His mouth opens to form words but nothin' comes out. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. Maybe he still thinks I'm dead.

Vin motions for me to take a chair and I sit heavily wondering what to do next. Ezra's face pales and he grimaces in pain. Vin has him hold onto his forearm and squeeze. I can see when the wave passes and he sags against the wall again. "Let's get you up and walkin' a bit, pard", Vin says.

Vin scoots off the bed and pulls Ezra upright. I see where I can help and take his other arm. It's locked tight as another wave of pain comes, then goes. We walk him back and forth across the small room. Walkin' him through the pain, the sickness. Ezra looks over at me, his eyes again unreadable. "I'm sorry, J.D." I hear it. It's a whisper but I hear it.

"'S'okay", Ezra I tell him and he says "No, it's not". "I know you didn't mean it", I say and then I see his eyes full of guilt. "I think I did". It's another whisper but it hits me like a punch in the gut. Ezra meant to shoot me! He tried to kill me!

"I gotta go!" I say and drop Ezra's arm and the two of 'em almost fall. "J.D.!" It's Vin callin' after me but I gotta go. If I stay I'm gonna puke.

I run out the door and Buck pushes away from the corridor wall where he's been slouchin', waitin' for me. He grabs my arm as I try to run past him. "J.D., what is it, son?" he asks and I turn to my best friend in the world and see the concern wrinkling his forehead. "He said he meant to do it". I didn't mean to tell him, it just came out.

Buck

I am so fuckin' pissed I see red. It is possible. I push my way past the asshole FBI agent and strong-arm the door. It rockets back slamming into the wall, spraying plaster on the floor. "You mother fuckin' son of a bitch!" I yell and yank Ezra up off the bed. Vin tries to intervene and I throw his arm off of me. My fist hits Ezra square in the face, bustin' that pretty nose of his.

Vin jumps me, pushin' me back toward the door, his eyes angry and determined. I look at him. He's red. Everything I see is still red. "Buck, you sorry assed son of a bitch! Get the fuck outta here!" he yells. It's the maddest I've ever seen him. I outweigh him by forty pounds but he slams me up against the wall. I just want one more crack at the bastard but now somebody has me by the collar yankin' me back through the doorway. Somebody strong and really pissed off.

Chris

"I thought I made it clear that this hospital is off limits!" I yell as loud as I can to try and break through Buck's blind anger. Vin stands fast on the other side of the door. I know I won't be able to get Vin to leave but I do manage to manhandle Buck toward the hospital entrance.

"He did it on purpose. The miserable fuck meant to kill Vin and the kid." Buck is like a mother bear protecting her cub, tryin' to push his way around me. I see two huge orderlies running toward us. They restrain Buck with a choke hold. "Just get him outta here!" I shout and the three of them head toward the admissions desk. I rake my hands through my hair. Fuck, they're all disintegrating right before my eyes. Will we ever be the cohesive, crack team we once were? It doesn't look good to say the least.

I want to wipe the smirk of the FBI agents' faces as I pass by them again and enter the room. Ezra's on the floor, his hands to his face, blood seeping between his fingers. Son of a bitch! Vin stalks to the sink and wets a towel. I sit down next to Ezra and pull his hands down so Vin can put the towel on his battered face to try and stop the bleeding. Vin's jaw muscles are workin' a mile a minute as he tilts Ezra's head back. "What the fuck just happened, Cowboy?" I wanna know. "Told J.D. he mighta shot 'im on purpose," Vin says but how the hell can he know what he did or why he did it? Until a few days ago, he didn't even remember his own fuckin' name.

Ezra

"I remember now. It has been two week since I went cold turkey and, God, I remember it all. Two or three men forcing me down into a metal chair…pulling my arms down and duct taping them to the arms…taping my legs to the chair legs."

"I remember the smell...acrid ... burning my nose and throat. And the needle. Jesus a needle wielded by a man called the Chemist. So ugly…always whispering…whispering in my ears…later inside my head. Duct tape on my mouth. I am suffocating. My heart is pounding; sweat runs down my back and ribs. I cannot get enough air through my nose."

"The Chemist holds a syringe up in front of my face and laughs. His laugh is even a whisper as the needle slips deep into my vein and blood backwashes into the cloudy liquid. I scream in my head and he looks me right in the eyes as if hearing me."

"Suddenly all is well. I feel good…better than good...euphoric and all of them laugh and nod. They are all in on the joke. My head falls forward and I see a small rivulet of blood and a welt on my arm. I am fascinated for a few seconds. That is as long as I can hold a thought. I feel so good, so incredibly good. I sit in the chair for what seems to be only a few minutes but my muscles are cramping painfully. And there are more welts and trickles of blood...on both my arms now. I never see them when they come… never hear them…only a faint whispering in my head."

"They release me from the chair and I am allowed to shower. There is a change of clothes waiting for me. I meet with Vin and J.D. out front. They need to go, to stay away or Cain will kill them! I try to play my part. I cannot let them know he knows everything, more than everything. I cannot let them know what he is doing to me. Vin starts to object but I pull rank and order them to back off, to leave me there, at the estate. Cain will guarantee my safety."

"They do as they are told, reluctantly, but they go. I hope to God they report back to Mr. Larabee and figure a way to extricate me from this living nightmare. Before I can look for some means of escape, I am back in the chair. Mr. Larabee does not come. No one comes for me…except the Chemist."

"I close my eyes and wait, wait for the warm, soothing feeling to come again, hopefully stronger and longer this time. But there is fire shooting up my arm now instead. I am certain my very flesh is burning and I open my eyes. There is nothing, only welts and oozing scabs. I can hear my heart beating, the whispers becoming shouts. The Chemist is moving in stop action. I do not want this feeling. I want the other."

"I close my eyes again. I am going to vomit. He knows what is happening to me and yanks the tape off. I vomit down the front of my shirt. He moves closer to me, pushing his face close to mine. I am gasping for air now, screaming at the top of my lungs but no sound comes forth. I feel his face next to mine…his burning skin on mine. I feel his face melting into mine. He has become part of me. I am terrified…so very frightened."

'They will not come for me now or ever. They want to kill me. He tells me this again and again. They want me dead. I believe him; believe everything he tells me. He is part of me now, knows everything about me, about them. I feel the tears running down my face. How can they betray me again and again? I do not want to die! I do not want to die!"