A/N: Buck gave Vin and Chris the matching spurs referred to in this story in a story by Greenwoman which I *think* was "Things to Do in Denver", an early ATF story.

Part 25

Realistically, Chris knew it couldn't have taken him more than two or three minutes to get from the Trauma Center to Intensive Care. It seemed like hours. Even after the elevator doors opened, the long hallway to ICU seemed to stretch forever.

He knew one of the cops at the double doors, well, knew him enough to recognize him. He nodded at both the officers as he stepped through the doors, his eyes immediately going to Buck's cubicle. He could just barely see a figure in the bed and a nurse close by; halfway noticed the blue windbreakers and yellow letters shouting out ATF of the two men on either side of the room. Legs shaking, mind frozen, Chris headed for the room.

"Chris. Chris!"

It took two repetitions of his name before he recognized it, blinked, looked around. Dr. Culver was at the nurses' station, beckoning him. Not knowing what to think-not even trying to think, Chris joined him. "How's Buck?" he asked intently. He had no way of knowing how he looked, the white, strained face, the lines of fatigue and worry etched deep around his eyes and mouth.

Culver noticed though; he shook his head but didn't even try to convince the ATF leader he needed to take a break. Before he could say anything Chris spoke again. "Kruse said there was some good news?"

Culver noted the desperate look in the eyes, knew that the man was hungry for any good news. In this case, he had some very good news to give. "You might want to send Dr. Monica Hastings some flowers," he said, smiling. "She seems to be making a habit of saving your guys. Chris, she identified the poison used on Buck. And found the antidote. Buck's already had two doses. He's responding well...his blood pressure is holding and he's breathing better."

Chris just stared at the doctor, eyes huge, his mind trying to wrap itself around what he'd just heard. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Before he could even think what to say, the doctor stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He's still critical, Chris. He's got a long way to go before he's out of the woods - but at least now he has a fighting chance."

Chris grabbed hold of the railing. He had to, his legs were shaking. Finally pulling himself together, he nodded at the doctor. "Can I see him?"

"I get the feeling if I said 'no' you'd go in anyway," Culver responded dryly. "Go ahead. But, Chris-"

Larabee stopped. "What?"

"You need some rest, yourself. I would imagine you're running on nothing but sheer nerve now, and sooner or later you're going to collapse."

"Well, then, it'll be later," Chris snapped. "I have two men fighting for their lives, Doc. They need me and I'll be here for them."

After a moment, Culver nodded his head. "I'm on my way down to Standish now."

Chris frowned. "Kruse is down there-"

"He's doing surgery on the other patient you brought in," Culver said calmly. "This is a hospital. We have to treat everyone, and we do the best we can."

Just by the way he said it made Chris realize that Culver knew who the other injured man was. Yes, the hospital had to do their job. but that didn't mean Chris was going to leave only an exhausted Nathan to guard Ezra. He turned around and beckoned to the two agents on duty at Buck's door. Kimmel from Team 3 and another man Chris knew but couldn't recall his name. "Both of you go downstairs to the trauma unit. We just brought Ezra Standish and his kidnapper in. Agent Jackson is down there too, Kimmel. I want one of you on Standish and the other on the perp until Travis, your own team leader, or I relieve you. Understood?"

He barely heard their responses as he brushed by them into Buck's room.

All the force and energy he'd been running on for too long deserted him. Weariness swept over him, leaving him trembling in its wake. Carefully, feeling very old and tired, he made his way to the side of the bed. Someone had left a straight-backed chair there but he ignored it, gripping the metal bed rail so tightly his fingernails dug into his palm. He ignored that slight pain as well, his whole attention focused on Buck.

'He looks so fragile.' The thin cotton gown and blanket didn't conceal the thick bandages from the life-saving surgery of a few hours ago, or the injuries from the explosion. An IV fed into his left arm and the little plastic clothespin that measured oxygen was clipped onto his right index finger. Oxygen in green plastic tubing coiled around his neck and into his nose. The weight had melted off him since the bombing; high cheekbones cast his closed eyes into dark shadows.

But, for the first time in days, the slightest flush of healthy color was in his face.

Chris stroked Buck's face gently, rested one hand on his forehead before combing back the thick dark hair from his friend's eyes. He sank down onto the chair and reached for Buck's limp hand, closing his fingers over it tightly. "You've got to stop scaring me like this, Bucklin."

Bucklin.

That had been Sarah's name for Buck; her affectionate nickname for her husband's best friend, the man she loved like a brother. Chris used it too, sometimes, but it was Sarah's name for him.

He remembered the day Vin had used it for the first time, just kidding around one day when they were talking about full names and Vin had reluctantly admitted his was Vincent Michael Tanner...

"I fail to see what is wrong with that name," Ezra had declared over the other guys' laughter. "That's a very impressive name, Vin." The undercover agent stared at Buck. "What is wrong with you, Mr. Wilmington?"

Buck stopped laughing. "Nothing against your name, Junior," he'd assured a red-faced Tanner. "It's just, Vincent always makes me think of that guy in that old TV show. Beauty and the Beast?"

"That's a Disney movie, Buck!" JD had pushed him on the shoulder. "Not a TV show!"

"No! It was a TV show, too. There were these mutant people living down in the tunnels in...hell, I don't know. New York I think. That gal from the Terminator movies, she was in it...come on, guys!" He appealed Josiah, "You remember it, don't you, Josiah?"

The profiler shook his head. "I must have missed that one, Brother Buck."

Buck just shook his head. "Ah come on, I can't have been the only one that ever saw it! This Vincent guy, see, he was sort of a monster, but not really-"

Vin rolled his eyes. "So what's your real name, Buck?"

"You know my name."

"Can't be!" JD chimed in. "Nobody'd name their kid 'Buck'. Sounds like a dog name."

"Well, thanks a lot, JD!" Buck elbowed him.

"Buckingham," Ezra said out of nowhere.

"Buckley," nodded Josiah.

Nathan shook his head. "Your name is William or something, right, Buck? Buck's just a nickname."

"Bucklin!" Vin tossed into the conversation.

Buck jerked like he'd been shot. For just a second, his eyes lit up - then he looked toward Chris and his face changed, all light and fun leaving it. "I don't got no fancy name," he said, pushing the chair back abruptly. "Buck's what my ma named me and it was good enough for her so I guess it's good enough for all of you." He strode toward the cash register.

Team Seven hadn't been together very long then and no one knew exactly how to take Buck's sudden mood change. Chris, of course, was the only one who knew why Buck had reacted the way he had, and he didn't feel comfortable telling anyone. Vin asked him if he'd upset Buck but Chris had just shrugged and said it was hard to hurt anyone's feelings when said feelings were tough as shoe leather.

It had taken awhile for Buck and Vin to get close. Chris knew, inside, that Buck had deliberately kept himself aloof-well, as aloof as Buck Wilmington knew how-from the sharpshooter, sensing the tight friendship forming between Chris and Vin. It had been over a year later when Vin again used the nickname, Bucklin. Buck started to ask him not to do it but Chris had stopped him. He had seen the light of happy memory in Buck's eyes. Vin still used the name quite a bit, the others occasionally, but, until today, Chris hadn't used it since Sarah and Adam's death.

It sounded right to say it now. He smiled, his thumb making soothing circles on the back of Buck's hand. "You hang in there, Bucklin. You hear me? You just hang in there."

7777777

The offices of Team Seven were quiet, save for the hushed clicking of the keys on JD's keyboard. The youngest member of the team sat at his desk, fingers typing rapidly, eyes never leaving his monitor. He hadn't said anything since they'd arrived back at the Federal Building. He hadn't said much on the way, either, only stating he wanted to get his report of the shooting written while it was still fresh in his mind. Now Vin tried again.

"JD, that can wait," he urged. "Come on. Take a break. Let's go get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

Vin took a deep breath. 'Okay, try to think like he's thinking.' He remembered after the incident in Hugo, writing his reports about the shooting, going through his interviews with investigators from the Office of Professional Responsibility and the local law enforcement. He remembered his feelings of grief and anger that he had been forced to take a life-second-guessing himself, wondering how he could have done it differently. That was something he went through every time he shot someone-through his years in the Army Rangers, and as a bounty hunter and then a US Marshal before joining the ATF. As hard as it was, he hoped he could never injure someone without feeling that way. Impulsively he asked, "You want to talk about it?"

JD didn't take his eyes off the screen. "No."

"You had to do it, you know. He was going to shoot Ezra."

"I know that, Vin," JD snapped. "I was the one that took the shot, remember? Where were you out there? "

Vin stiffened. "I couldn't get a clear shot. Look, are you blamin' me-?"

"No! I'm not blaming anybody but David Wyerly." JD finally looked at Vin. His face was set in stone but his eyes were alive with grief and pain and fury. "Leave me alone, Vin! I just want to get this over with and then get to the hospital."

Vin looked at Josiah, who shrugged and nodded toward the break room. Vin followed him in and closed the door quietly. Josiah opened the refrigerator and tossed Vin a bottle of water. "Maybe it's best to let him be," the older man said. "Things have been in an uproar for young JD lately. Maybe he has to focus on this right now."

"Things have pretty much been in an uproar for all of us," Vin pointed out. He walked over to the window and stood looking out at the lights of downtown Denver. 'I'm in over my head with this one.' "Maybe you can talk to him?"

He heard Josiah sigh behind him. "JD doesn't need me right now, Vin. The only two people who could help him at this moment are Buck or Chris. Buck can't be here and Chris chooses not to be."

"You know why Chris ain't here, Josiah. He's right where he has to be right now."

"Actually, I agree with you, Vin. But Chris isn't with Buck for Buck's sake. He's there for his own sake. I would imagine Buck would say that Chris should be here, for JD."

Vin shook his head. "Do you really think he'd be any help to JD right now? Chris is holdin' on by his fingernails. If Buck...if Buck dies..."

He felt a giant hand squeeze his heart. He closed his eyes, forcing hot tears back. "Damn, Josiah, I can't do this. Chris will fall apart if Buck dies. And Buck - Buck thinks I can put him back together." He took a deep breath. "Hell, I don't even know how to start. And now with Ezra - this team is fallin' apart, Josiah. I feel like I'm losin' everybody that means anything to me and I can't do a damn thing about it! Chris tells me to take care of JD , but JD won't even talk to me!"

There was a long silence.

Finally Josiah spoke. "I don't think this team...this family will fall apart. Something brought us together. Call it Fate or Karma or God...whatever brought seven such different men together to create something much bigger than any of us ever expected."

"And now it's all fallin' apart."

Josiah slowly shook his head. "I don't believe that. Together, we're strong, Vin. Strong enough to get through the bad times, together."

Vin snorted. "If Buck-or Ezra-dies there won't be a 'together', Josiah.

Josiah finally turned to face him. His craggy face softened. "You're exhausted, Vin. You've been trying to carry your weight, Chris's weight, and Buck's as well."

Vin dropped into a chair. "More'n you know, Preacher"

He felt Josiah's eyes on him. The older man came around the table and sat down at Vin's side. "Is there something you want to talk about, Vin?"

Before Vin could answer JD pushed the door open and stepped inside the break room. He had three or four sheets of paper, stapled together, in his hand. "One of you want to read this for me? I'm supposed to be down in OPR in ten minutes for my interview."

Vin jolted to his feet. "JD, that's crazy. You're worn out. You have forty-eight hours. Chris would want you to wait-"

"I think waiting might be for the best, son." Josiah's deep voice drowned out Vin's.

There was a snap to JD's voice they'd never heard before. "Well, I don't. And I could care less what Chris thinks about it. Read the report or don't read it. Stay with me or don't. I don't need you. I don't need anybody." He whirled around and stomped out the door.

Vin waited until the door had slammed behind their youngest. "Josiah, I think you need to rethink that idea that this team is not fallin' apart. Because it sure as hell looks to me like it is!"

7777777

Nathan assisted the medical staff to stabilize Ezra. He'd been surprised when the head nurse had beckoned him into the room. "We're short staffed," she'd barked. "And he knows you."

"Is the nutcase with the gun going to come bursting in?" asked a Resident as he snapped directions to the nursing staff. Nathan shook his head, recognizing the man from Ezra's last visit here.

"Vin's not here," he muttered, catching a blood pressure cuff one of the nurses tossed to him and gently wrapping it around Ezra's blood-streaked arm. Even though he'd known Ezra's blood pressure would be low from both blood loss and hypothermia, he was still alarmed by the reading.

The resident just grunted when he told him. "How long was he exposed to the cold?"

Nathan shook his head. "He's been missing for over thirty hours. Any or all of that, I guess."

"Damn!" The Resident's eyes were drawn to the heart monitor and the first, erratic tracings on it. He swung around to meet Nathan's eyes. "Can you reach that...that chemist, whatshername, the one that developed T-27? We need to know if there is a residual effect on the heart-"

"Dr. Hastings is on her way." This was a new voice and everyone turned to look at Dr. Culver, just stepping in the door. He smiled at Nathan. "She just helped to save Buck Wilmington's life - she identified the poison he was given. She's on her way over at my request."

Nathan stared at him, the icy feeling in his guy suddenly warming. "Buck-?"

"We've started him on the antidote. He's showing a positive response already." Culver's attention switched back to Ezra. "Now...let's see what Agent Standish has gotten himself into this time."

7777777

Alone in the office - Josiah had followed JD down to his interview with the investigators-Vin paced restlessly around the bullpen. A pink message slip caught his eye. Monica Hastings had called twice during the day. Vin groaned. "Damn, I practically dump the woman and then didn't even call her and let her know what was goin' on." With unfamiliar warmth, he remembered her concern about Ezra. She'd have stayed up in the hills hunting for him all night long if Vin hadn't sent her on home. The poor girl didn't even have her car - she'd left it at the repair garage in Purgatorio. Damn, that seemed like a million years ago.

Making up his mind, he pulled the card with her numbers on it and sat down behind his desk. The faint excitement he'd felt faded away as a computerized voice informed him Riverside Pharmaceuticals was closed; office hours were eight A.M. to six P.M. and if this was an emergency to stay on the line for the answering service. He disconnected and tried her home and cell phones, reaching voice mail on both. He finally left his name and number and asked her to call, no matter the time.

Disappointed, fighting exhaustion and worry, he leaned back in his chair and looked at the wall clock. He wanted to go to the hospital - he wasn't doing any good here - JD wasn't listening to him and didn't want his help. Maybe Josiah could get through to him since Vin wasn't sure he himself even wanted to try. Maybe punching the kid would get his mind on straight.

Sighing, Vin admitted to himself that much of his anger at JD came from something the younger man had said in the car, on the way back from the crime scene. Breaking the heavy silence in the car, JD had swung around and locked eyes with Vin. JD's eyes were dark with rage and grief and something Vin couldn't identify as he spat out, "So what do you think of your girlfriend now, Vin? She's a damn mobster!"

"We don't even know if she's related to Wyerly!" Vin had protested, not even denying that Monica Hastings was his girlfriend because really, that wasn't the point. "And even if she is, you can't hold someone responsible for who she's related to. Damn it, JD, she saved Ezra's life!"

"Ezra's life wouldn't have been in any danger if not for her and her damn drug!" JD had railed back.

"Now, brothers, we're all wound too tightly-" Josiah had started but JD wasn't listening, and really, Vin wasn't either. The argument had escalated- Vin couldn't believe now how angry and loud he'd been. That wasn't his way, normally. Just seemed like JD had been getting on his last nerve for days now.

Now, Vin felt guilty. JD had been through a lot lately. He'd lost his home in that explosion and essentially lost Buck too - Vin took in a deep, shocked breath. Hell, how could he have forgotten, even for a minute, how bad things were for Buck? Buck could be dead right now.

The thought hurt, like the twist of a knife in the gut.

Almost in a trance, he stepped back to his desk and picked up an item from it. The antique spur Buck had gifted him with in the first year of Team Seven's formation. Twin to the one Buck had given Chris. For a long time – months - Vin hadn't been sure of why Buck had given it to him, what it meant. Then one day, almost out of the blue, the reason had hit him. He'd gasped then with the shock of it, his heart twisting and singing at the same time as he realized how much Buck cared for Chris - and how much he trusted Vin to be there for the man Buck had called his best friend for years.

At the same time he'd been angered as well, that Buck would step out of Chris' life, relinquish his place to Vin without even a struggle - before Vin had ever even realized what was happening. He'd cornered Buck in the bar one night, dragging him away from the rest of the guys - and the woman fawning over him - and snarled into his face, "What the hell do you think you're doin', Wilmington? Figure since I'm around now you can just waltz off and leave Chris behind?"

He still remembered, with shame, the way the color had leached from Buck's face, replaced by sorrow and loss and deep pain. "I'm not leaving Chris," he said quietly. "I'll always be at his back or by his side when he needs me. But that's just it, Vin. He doesn't need me. Maybe I remind him too much of what he used to have. Hell, he wouldn't have lost that life if not for me and we both know it. He's got you now, Vin. Someone he can laugh with and depend on and trust - someone that he can be with and not feel the pain."

Vin had had a drink too many, or maybe he was just shocked. Buck had slipped away before he could open his mouth to yell at Buck, make him see he was wrong, so wrong. And in the months after that Buck refused to reopen the conversation.

Then, during the McPherson case, when they were all so sure Buck was dead and he and Chris had driven as fast as they could to Wyoming on a slim chance of finding him alive, Chris had realized, without Vin even saying anything, that his old friend had been withdrawing from his life and why.

'Just as well Buck was alive,' Vin thought now, having to grin as he remembered the dressing down Chris had given Buck, as soon as the doctors had told them he'd live. 'Larabee was mad enough to follow him to Heaven or Hell to chew him out.'

In the months and years that had followed, the rift between the Team Seven leader and his oldest friend seemed to have healed. And now Vin was lucky enough to be able to count Buck, as well as Chris, as his friend.

And now it seemed they'd come full circle. Buck didn't seem to understand that Chris probably couldn't survive his death. He seemed to think Vin could take care of Chris and they'd all take care of JD. Like he could be replaced in any of their lives...

And then Vin remembered the letter.

The letter Buck had told him about, after the explosion, the letter in the thick expanding folder. Nathan had sought him out and given it to him after they'd found out about Buck's poisoning, saying Buck had told him to. Then Ezra had disappeared and Vin hadn't had time to look at it.

Now he reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and slowly withdrew the dark rust colored folder. Untying the string that closed it, he opened the first section and saw envelopes. Six regular sized and a long, tall blue one, lettered on the outside with gothic style lettering reading "The Last Will and Testament of _" "Buck Wilmington" had been written in the blank in very black ink.

Dropping that as if it were singeing his fingers, Vin searched through the other envelopes. As he had half suspected there was one for each of them: Nathan, Chris, Josiah, Ezra, and JD, as well as another with his own name written on it. He pulled his envelope out with shaking fingers and studied it for a second. Then he tore it open.

And the phone rang.

tbc...