Part 15

Vin and Monica Hastings lingered long over lunch. Vin discovered Monica had a rather wicked sense of humor, which appealed to his own admittedly somewhat warped humor. Her hilarious send-ups of the FDA inspectors, Nina questioning a client, and the Mayor at a recent fund-raising dinner had him holding his sides with laughter. Vin found himself longing to smuggle her into a meeting with AAD David Montgomery. For all that the man supposedly had been a great field agent, his briefings were a guaranteed cure for insomnia.

It wasn't until they were eating dessert of tiramisu for her and cannoli for Vin that the atmosphere changed. Monica had glanced up several times at the wall of picture above their table. Vin surprised a sad look on her face. He looked up, seeing-as he knew he would-picture of Luigi owners Mario and Theresa Doretti's three racehorses.

"You like horses?" Vin finally asked.

Monica nodded. "They're so beautiful."

"That they are." Vin pointed to the horse in the center. "That's Laddie-short for 'Aladdin's Lamp.' Won a bunch of races as a two year old till he hurt his shoulder. Doesn't bother him much now but it wouldn't stand up to him racin' again. The bay is Ocean Light."

Monica looked pleased. "I've heard of him. Didn't he win the Belmont...ten years ago, maybe?"

Vin was surprised she knew that. "Yeah. Retired to stud. Problem is, he's sterile. Stud that can't reproduce ain't worth much. So the Doretti's bought him. Think they've got five, maybe six out there now. Nice spread." He studied her face. "You want to go see it sometime? Mario loves havin' people visit."

Her eyes widened and a pleased smile lit up her face. "Do you think we could? That would be great. I..." she hesitated, looked down at the tablecloth. "I had a horse, my uncle gave him to me for my eleventh birthday." She smiled, apparently lost in memories. "Magic With A Bite. Probably not the best choice of name - he did like to bite! Think in the two years I had him he bit everyone but me. But I lo-loved him. I suppose that sounds silly to you?"

Actually it was one of the most endearing things Vin had ever heard her say. His own horse, Peso, had been known to take a bite out of people more than once. "What happened to him?" he prodded.

Her face changed, shadows of long ago - but still harsh - grief darkened her eyes. She looked away. "My uncle sold him. He didn't even tell me until it was done. I'm sure it was my aunt's idea. I think I've told you she wanted me to be a homecoming queen, cheerleader type? Yes well-between studying in the library and taking care of Magic, I didn't have time for any of the activities she thought were important. Actually it backfired. I was so angry and so..." she bit her lip. When she went on her voice was calmer. "Anyway I retreated even more. Stayed at the library until it closed and then holed up in my room. I think it was a relief to both of us when Nina got old enough to fulfill my aunt's wishes."

Vin watched her carefully. She was trying to hide it but he could see the memories still caused her pain. "I got a horse," he said conversationally.

She looked up. There was no mistaking the delight on her face. "You do? Tell me!"

"Name's Peso." Vin grinned. "Orneriest piece of horseflesh I've ever met. I keep him at my friend Chris' place. He has a little ranch out of town a ways." He made up his mind. "You want to go meet him? Peso, I mean?"

Her eyes lit up. "Can we? Now?"

Vin hesitated. "Hang on." He reached for his cell phone, only then realizing he'd left it behind. "Damn." He looked around, spotting a pay phone near the entrance. "Just a sec-"

"You need a phone?" Monica reached into her purse and pulled out hers.

Vin punched in the number of Chris' home, and got the answering machine. "Hmm. He must still be at the hospital, or maybe the office."

"Hospital?"

"Got a friend in there." Vin answered evasively.

"The agent that was injured in the explosion? I saw it on the news. How horrible. Is he going to be all right?"

"He's doin' pretty good." Vin dialed Chris' cell phone and got the "Unavailable at this time" message. "Hey, Chris," he told the recording device. "I'm headin' up to your place to check on the horses. I'll get the reports done tomorrow. Tell Buck hi for me, okay? I'll be by to see him later tonight. Oh, and..." he grinned sheepishly, "I forgot my cell phone at my place, if you've been tryin' to call." He clicked Monica's phone shut. "Ready?" he asked.

"We can go?"

Vin basked in the warmth of her smile, banishing even further the coldness he'd felt since Hugo. "Sure." He reached for his wallet. "We can go right now."

JD reached Buck's pickup and climbed into the driver's seat with a tired sigh. For a few minutes he stared ahead at the stucco and wood exterior of the Roman Villa apartment complex.

Bobby Fewell had called him back not even two minutes after his call and insisted he come over right away. The property manager was on-site, Bobby had said - as a matter of fact the two of them had a date that night. The apartment was ready for viewing and JD should see it immediately. "There's usually a waiting list," Bobby had said. "But Julie says if you want it she'll move you to the head of the line. You could move in this weekend." JD initially tried to demur, but, after all, the apartment was only a couple of blocks out of his way.

Julie was very blonde, very tan, and very bubbly. She and Bobby had met JD at the office and immediately escorted him to the one-bedroom apartment looking over the pool.

It was a nice enough place, JD had to admit. He was unable to work up too much enthusiasm but he didn't really need to; Bobby and Julie were both so busy pointing out all the selling points to him and flirting with each other they didn't seem to notice JD wasn't saying anything much.

Truth to tell, no matter how nice the apartment was, JD couldn't see himself living in it. When he tried to visualize his computer desk in the corner, his DVDs and CDs on the shelves, his clothes hanging in the closet, all he could see was the comfortable, cluttered, sometimes messy but always welcoming place he and Buck had shared. When he looked at the living room with the matching furniture upholstered in a tasteful plaid, all he could see was Buck's sagging but oh-so-comfortable sectional sofa, and the coffee table JD had bought on sale six months after he'd moved in. The first "real" piece of furniture he'd ever purchased. Buck was out of town and JD had worried all weekend that Buck would hate it or feel JD had overstepped himself, buying something for Buck's home. Of course, neither was true. Buck had loved it and bragged to all the guys the next day how great it looked in the living room. He'd said. 'It's your home too. Your place, long as you want to stay.'

'But home isn't there anymore,' JD thought sadly.

Still, when Bobby had urged him to go ahead and fill out the application and put down a deposit, JD had resisted. He said he needed to think about it. He could tell Bobby was exasperated with him, and probably confused as well, but finally Julie had offered to hold it for two days to give him some time. "That's really all I can do," she'd apologized. JD had thanked her, tactfully refused Bobby's invitation to hang out for a while and then go on to dinner with him and Julie and her roommate, and said his good-byes.

Bobby walked him to the front gate of the complex. JD dreaded his friend was going to make a last pitch for the apartment, but Bobby had something else on his mind. After clearing his throat twice, Bobby finally blurted out, "Look, JD, this may piss you off but I called AAD Montgomery this afternoon. I had to tell him about Standish."

JD stopped dead. "You had to tell him what about Ezra?"

"Well, what I saw! That I saw him with that Sammy Parker kid in Shreveport the night before the bust!"

"Bobby!" JD was horrified. "You said you weren't even sure it was Sammy Parker you saw!"

"Well, the more I think about it the more it makes sense," Bobby insisted. "There was something going on between Standish and that kid at the barn. Anyway, Montgomery's secretary called me back. He wants me and Standish both in a meeting with him tomorrow at eight. And he's going to call you there, too."

"Me? What the hell can I tell him?"

"You just need to back me up, JD. Just say that I told you about it right away. That's all," Bobby insisted. "If Standish didn't do anything wrong he doesn't have anything to worry about."

JD shook his head. "You were out of line, Bobby. Chris is the Agent In Charge of Team Seven; he answers only to Travis and he's going to be pissed. Does he know about this?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know. Can't see that it makes much difference. Montgomery outranks him."

"It matters because Team Seven is a REMTEF team and REMTEF teams answer only to the SAC and he answers only to the Assistant Director. Besides, Chris hates anybody going over his head."

"Look, I don't work for Chris Larabee," Bobby answered hotly. "I work for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. And AAD Montgomery has been my supervisor throughout my whole training period. He's the one who assigned me to work with Team Seven. And he's good people; one of the best field agents ever. If Standish is dirty Montgomery will figure it out. And if he's not, no problem."

JD didn't say anything, just opened the black wrought iron gate and went towards the truck, leaving Bobby standing on the sidewalk.

Now he leaned his head back against the seat. 'I'd better call Chris,' he decided reluctantly. No matter what his confused feelings right now about the team leader, Larabee needed to know. He reached to the passenger seat where he'd left his cell phone. Frowning, he noticed the message indicator was lit. He'd checked it before he'd left the airport parking lot and cleared it then. 'Must have got a call while I was looking at the apartment.'

He depressed the buttons that would play back the message and held it to his ear.

His heart froze and his blood ran cold.

Chris Larabee's voice. Tired, vibrating with tension JD could hear even on the recording. "JD. Get over to the hospital as soon as you get this message." Then a click. That was all there was.

"Oh, God, oh God." JD didn't even think about calling Buck's room at the hospital. He forgot all the confused, hurt, lonely feelings he'd been fighting for days. Panic blocked his mind to all but getting to his brother's side as quickly as possible.

Gears grinding, tires smoking, he screeched out of the parking lot.

Ezra parked the car in the hospital parking lot and sat quietly staring at the complex, his mind a million miles away.

There had been no answer at Chris' ranch or on his cell phone, so Ezra figured the team leader would be here, visiting Buck.

He'd sensed some strain, between Chris and young JD, recently. It made sense Chris would turn to his oldest friend if there were indeed problems between the taciturn leader and Buck's best friend.

He sighed, closed his eyes. 'Get moving, Standish,' he jeered at himself. 'Go in there and tell...your friends...what is going on.'

But what could he really tell them? That the way Bobby Fewell looked at him unnerved him in a way the most violent criminal never did? There was nothing concrete he could report. No witnesses to back him up. Bobby was never friendly but he saved his most insolent behavior for when he and Ezra were alone.

And - even if there was a problem - should he drag them into it? He was Ezra Standish. He solved his problems on his own, depended on no one for assistance.

With a sigh, Ezra acknowledged that wasn't true anymore. It had been true for most of his life. It was the way Maude had raised him - when she had raised him — to stand on his own two feet. Trust no one. Believe in no one.

That way one couldn't be hurt.

Maude's theory proved sound. He'd let down the walls, just slightly, in Atlanta and what had happened? Betrayal.

His mentor - a man he called friend - framed him, betrayed him, shot him and left him for dead.

After that Ezra swore no one else would ever get the same chance.

But six stubborn, determined men had made that vow impossible to keep. Six men he was proud to call friends.

They'd always been there for him before. But would they be this time? It was his word against Bobby Fewell's...and Bobby was everything Ezra wasn't. Who would believe Ezra? Would Chris? Nathan? JD?

Josiah probably would, and Vin was almost blindly loyal sometimes. No, not that, but once Vin gave his trust he didn't take it back. He was like Buck in that way. Probably what drew Chris to both of them...or at least kept them there when things got bad.

'This isn't accomplishing anything.'

Ezra waited a few more minutes, then started the car again. He couldn't do it. Not right now. He'd go up to Chris' ranch, see to Chaucer...maybe even take a ride. That was how Vin worked out his problems. Maybe it would work for Ezra too. He put the car into gear and drove away.

Less than a minute later, Buck's battered pickup - with JD Dunne behind the wheel - screeched into the empty spot.

JD angled his body sideways to slide out of the elevator as soon as it started to open. Shoes thudding against the linoleum, he slid around the corner and down the corridor toward Buck's room.

'Oh, God-'

The chair outside the room was empty and the door hung half-open.

Heart pounding painfully in his throat, JD stepped inside the room.

The bed was empty, covers pulled back and disheveled, IV and monitors disconnected. Buck's personal things - the flowers and stuffed animals, the silly clock JD had given him - were still there.

"Oh God oh God no!" He was only faintly aware of his own voice, heavy with fear, saying it over and over again. Clutching his arms tightly around his stomach, he forced his feet further into the room.

'Buck-oh God, Buck, please don't be...'

"JD?"

JD whirled around. Nathan was standing in the doorway.

"Where's Buck?" JD demanded.

Nathan hesitated, a puzzled look on his face. "He's-"

"Where?" JD almost shouted.

When Nathan didn't answer quickly enough JD pounced on him and shook him by the arms. It was somewhat akin to the flea shaking the dog but JD was too intent to realize the silliness of it. "Where's Buck?"

"JD, calm down," Nathan said quietly, taking the younger man's shoulders in his hands and meeting his wild gaze. "Buck's in ICU - JD! Wait!"

There was no stopping the boy. He tore from Nathan's grasp and rushed through the door, speeding down the corridor.

"Damn," Nathan muttered. He rubbed his eyes. He knew JD. The kid wouldn't stop until he saw his best friend. Chris had said he'd tell him about the poisoning. Nathan didn't think he could do it. Not look JD in the face and tell the younger man that...

'That I let a killer get to his best friend.'

Shaking his head, Nathan grabbed the bulging folder from the bedside table. This was the folder Buck had been so insistent Nathan give to Vin and not show Chris. Nathan had a bad feeling about this, but he'd do it because he'd promised. Because he owed Buck.

'At least JD's here. Buck can tell him whatever he's so sure he has to. Maybe Buck'll relax a little bit. And Chris too. Maybe he'll get some sleep.' Nathan knew there wasn't much chance of that, not when Buck's condition was so grave. Maybe if Vin showed up - where the hell was he, anyway?

Nathan hoped the quiet sharpshooter got here soon.

Chris needed him.

And Buck needed him too.

~+~+~+~

Chris Larabee was a man of action, a man of strength. He needed to move. He hated sitting still. He hated waiting.

Oh, God, he hated waiting.

Waiting like this, when there was nothing he could do. No suspect to threaten, no one to intimidate. Nothing he could accomplish by icy whisper or raised voice that would make any difference.

But he couldn't leave Buck's side. Couldn't even close his eyes, afraid to look away from his friend.

Hospital personnel bustled in and out of the ICU cubicle. Buck's doctor had been in twice already in the little over an hour since they'd moved him. He didn't say anything to Chris.

He didn't have to. Chris knew Buck's condition was deteriorating, fast.

He straightened as Buck's eyelashes flickered and then those deep blue eyes opened. Colorless lips forced into a half-smile. "You look like shit, Pard." The voice so faint it could hardly be called a whisper.

"You've looked better, yourself," Chris countered, gently squeezing the lax hand in his own.

"Yeah...prob'ly so," Buck admitted. His eyes flickered around the room. "JD?"

"He's not here yet," Chris had to admit. Disappointment and sadness quickly flickered in Buck's eyes.

Chris raged inwardly at the look on his friend's face. 'Where the hell is JD? Where are all of them?'

While Buck was being settled in ICU, Chris and Nathan had gotten busy on their phones. They managed to learn Josiah was on a plane due into DIA a little after five. So he was accounted for. But Ezra, Vin and JD were all back in Denver. None of them were answering their cell or home phones. A call to AD Travis revealed none of them had checked in at the office. Travis had also reluctantly told Chris that Assistant AD Montgomery was demanding an early morning meeting with Ezra over some information Bobby Fewell had given him.

"What information?" Chris demanded suspiciously. "Judge, if anyone blew that bust, it was Bobby, not Ezra."

"Don't worry about it, Chris," Travis ordered. "I'll meet with young Mr. Fewell myself. I don't even see there's any reason to tell Mr. Standish about this right now."

Chris was pissed. "I don't like people complaining about my men unless they go through me first. *I* was Agent in Charge in Hugo-"

"Chris! I'll handle it. You just worry about Buck right now. I'll deal with this matter." The older man hesitated. "But I do need your teams' reports tomorrow before noon, Chris. That's procedure and I can't waive it."

Chris took a deep breath. God, his head hurt. "OK, Judge. I'll make sure they get them in."

Now Chris met Buck's sunken eyes. "He'll be here soon," he said firmly. "So will the others. You just get some rest."

There was a sound of throat-clearing behind him and Chris looked around to see Dr. Culver. "Chris, can I talk to you out in the hallway?" the doctor asked, his face carefully neutral.

"Don'...bother, Doc. Know what you want..wanna say." Buck stopped, struggling hard to breathe. "Time's up...right?"

The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry, Buck," he said gently. "We need to put you on the respirator now. You're getting too weak to wait any longer. I'd like to start the sedative IV immediately."

"Sedative?" Chris asked sharply. He was no medical expert but even he knew sedating Buck would further hamper his breathing.

"To get the tube down his throat. We can't do that when he's conscious," the doctor explained gently. "And we'll need to keep him mildly sedated after it's in...keep him from fighting it." He smiled sympathetically. "Buck learned the last time how hard that is."

Buck nodded weakly. He looked up at the doctor. "Hey, doc...give us a minute...okay?"

Culver hesitated, then nodded. "Just a minute. I'll send the nurse in to start the sedative."

Buck met Chris' eyes as the doctor left. "Now I think...I know what the...guy on death row feels just before they...they give him the needle..."

"Don't!" Chris commanded. He could hear the fear in his own voice and forced himself to calm down. "You're just going to take a little nap," he said, more gently. "And we'll all be right here."

Buck's cold fingers gripped Chris' tightly, as if he was pouring every bit of his scant remaining strength into the grip. "Need you to...promise me...somethin'."

Chris had to swallow twice. "No deathbed promises here cause this ain't your deathbed," he said gruffly. "You're going to be fine, Buck. You have to be."

"Humor me, then? I need you to..."

"What?" Chris prompted.

"Can't explain." Buck looked frustrated. He swallowed as the nurse came in with a tray. "Just...don't want you...you've got people who care about you, Chris...people who depend-"

"Buck?"

JD stood in the doorway, eyes wide and terrified.

Ezra sighed, moving shoulders tight with tension. In his exhausted state, the forty-mile drive to Chris' ranch - much of it through Denver end of workday traffic - had been grueling.

But now he was on the "last lap" so to speak. Unfortunately he was driving west, directly into the setting sun, and the glare was giving him a headache. All he needed right now was a migraine to start….

He sighed with relief as he saw the split-rail fence of Chris' neighbor that was his personal landmark for the turnoff.

BANG!

The Jag shuddered violently, throwing Ezra against the door. Black smoke billowed from under the hood. The steering wheel spun under Ezra's hand as the car swerved, then spun around and around, finally slamming to a crashing halt against the fence.

tbc...