again, I thank you all very much for the encouraging reviews.

Part 4

The sound of Chris' voice on the other end of the phone was enough to unravel the fragile grasp Ezra was maintaining on his emotions.

Lost as he was in the chilly dim cabin, hunted and alone, Chris represented strength and safety. Larabee had been the man who reached out to Ezra in the middle of the Atlanta debacle and despite the fall out, had given Ezra a chance…and a second one.

Larabee and Team 7 had come to Ezra's rescue. More than that, they'd become family and now, in his desperation,Ezra was reaching out to them, begging them to save him again.

Chris' reassurances weren't enough to calm Ezra's heightened fear or panic. He flinched at Larabee's command to not give up. He didn't know if he could keep going. He needed to explain—he wasn't running out on Chris. He was just so tired. So cold.

His vision blurred with weariness and tears and he hated himself for his weakness.

"I…" he started to tell Chris he wasn't running out on him when the world exploded around him.

Bullets tore into the cabin, splintering the thin wooden walls. Too many to be from just a single shooter, Ezra wondered if Little had an army with him.

Glass shattered from the windows. Shards rained down on Ezra as he scrambled to find cover.

The phone exploded in his hand, breaking two of his fingers in the process.

He screamed and slithered across the floor.

A side window, broken and jagged was his only way out as bullets continued to rake the other three walls of the shack. For an instant, Ezra considered giving up. Was he only being herded again?

Chris' voice shouted through his doubts. "Trust me."

West. Chris had said to keep going west and he would find him.

Taking a deep breath for courage and strength, Ezra jumped up and threw himself out of the broken window. Glass sliced at his sides, cutting through his jeans and tearing up his thighs but he rolled to his feet and darted into the woods.

He had to go west. Chris would be there.

They were grouped around the map, still using JD as a table, searching for a way to get to Ezra before Little ended the hunt.

"You sent him west," Josiah said again, his finger tracing the western ridge that ended in a bluff of cliffs.

"There's no way we can get in front of him or around Little's men." Vin ran a hand through his hair as he looked up and at the woods. "Woods are too thick and there's no roads carved out on the property."

Buck poked the map, ignoring JD's protest. "How we gonna keep him from running off the cliff? Little's gonna be able to trap him there."

"We're not," Larabee said finally. He turned and walked directly up to Agent Peter's. "We need a chopper."

"What?" Peters looked shocked at the demand.

"A chopper. It'll take too long for Travis to arrange one for us. I know you have the ability to provide one now. We need it."

"No way." Peters shook his head. "No way in hell I'm giving you anything until you tell us what the hell is going on with Standish. What happened to Brennan?"

Chris glared, but answered without hesitation. "Little shot Brennan and is hunting Ezra."

Dorsey stepped up beside Peters. "What do you mean 'hunting'?"

"I mean,run or I'll shoot you where you stand hunting…which is exactly what he did to Brennan." Chris gestured at the tarp-covered body.

"All we have is your agent's word that…"

Chris advanced so fast Dorsey had no time to defend himself. Larabee grabbed the man by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him close. "Don't you dare question my agent's word," he hissed.

"He left Brennan behind in the dirt." Dorsey refused to be intimidated.

"He had no choice." Chris shoved the FBI agent away from him, trying to control his temper. He'd feel the same way if the positions had been reversed. He knew that, but he was tired of everyone always assuming the worst about Ezra first.

Sighing heavily, Chris wiped his hands over his face before continuing. "Look, Standish is shaken and scared. Brennan was shot down in front of him and now he's running for his life. It sounds like he's been hurt as well and, from how Brennan was dressed, he's not prepared for the elements either. We need to get to him before Little does."

Peters cleared his throat. "How do we know we can?"

"We don't," Buck cut in. "But we need to try."

"I need a chopper," Chris reiterated.

Peters thought for another moment before turning to Dorsey. "You stay here and get Brennan out of here. Rescue and recovery are on their way in. I'll take them back and get them a chopper." He looked at Chris. "It's gonna take time. You better hope your man has it together enough to stay out Little's aim long enough for us to get in there."

It was snowing. Big fluffy snowflakes floated lazily down around him. It was like a scene from a Christmas special or a snow globe. The beauty of it seemed incongruous and completely wrong for his situation.

Ezra's feet felt like they were weighted with bricks as he trudged along in the flurries. His skin was so numb he was surprised that the flakes landing on him actually melted away. His legs dragged with each step, pulling and burning as the blood from his cuts continued to ooze. His fingers throbbed in time with his racing heartbeat.

All he wanted to do was stop. He wanted to curl up against a wide tree and watch the snow until he drifted to sleep, but he knew he couldn't.

He forced himself to take another step and another. He tried to listen, straining for any sound of the hunters behind him. He had no idea where he was. He only knew he had to keep going west. He hoped to God he had his directions right. He thought he did, but he couldn't be positive.

He couldn't be sure about anything at the moment. The wind picked up, blowing the snow into his face. Plastering his wet, frozen clothing against him.

Ezra curled his arms tight around his middle, tucking his blue finger up under his arms. He took another step and imagined himself at Chris' ranch sitting in front of the roaring fire. So close he'd be too warm. He wasn't sure that was ever going to be possible again. He ached to his bones with cold. He'd always thought that was an exaggeration, but seeing that he could no longer even flex his fisted fingers, he believed it now. Bone chilling was an understatement. This was bone freezing. Bone paralyzing.

His foot caught on a root and Ezra went down. Slowed from the cold, he didn't get his hands out to break his fall and hit the ground hard. He lay there on the freezing ground, pain radiating through his entire body. For a moment, it just felt good to stop. To forget that if he didn't move again he was going to die. Would he freeze to death before Little found him? If Little did find him, would he make his death quick?

He saw Brennan lurching backwards from the head shot again. Brennan hadn't felt anything at all. One minute he was cursing out Ezra and the next, he was just gone. Would it be that way for him? Ezra wondered? Would Little choose to take him out instantly or would he make it slow and drag his death out?

He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to. He had to get up.

Instead, Ezra listened to the woods and watched the snow landing on his arm, slowly covering his swollen and purpling hand in a thin white layer until his eyes drifted closed.

tbc...