Part 27
Chris let the door silently close as he slipped back into Buck's cubicle. The night nurse, Amy, was there at Buck's bedside, checking his vitals. "How's he doing?" He asked in a whisper.
She didn't answer until she'd finished taking Buck's blood pressure, pushed a button to elevate the head of his bed, and stripped off her latex gloves. "No fever, pulse and breathing are stronger. His lungs are pretty congested though. RT will be in here to give him a breathing treatment soon-" She stopped at Chris' unconscious surge forward. "Agent Larabee?" she asked cautiously.
Chris looked down, realizing his hands were clenched into tight fists. "I'm...sorry. It's just that - the man who poisoned him, he got to him by posing as a respiratory therapist, said he was giving him a breathing treatment."
Amy blushed. "I'm sorry, I knew that. But Ryan is coming up to do Buck's treatment. And I can vouch for Ryan." She smiled. "He's my husband."
Chris nodded. He probably ought to apologize again but damned if he was going to. There had been two attempts on Buck's life since he'd been in this hospital - one by the nurse, the day Chris thought he'd seen Sarah. And then the poisoning that had brought him so near to death. Not counting the smoke bomb. Chris wasn't leaving Buck alone again, at least not for a very long time.
'And even that might not be enough,' a nasty little voice nagged deep inside his head. Nathan had been by Buck's side when the false respiratory therapist had waltzed into his room. Chris knew that Nathan would have stopped the killer if he'd had any inkling he wasn't who he'd purported to be. Bolo Orlowski was devious.
If it was Bolo. If it was just Bolo.
Chris was starting to think there were multiple killers after his men. After Buck and Ezra. If he wasn't so tired, if his brain wasn't so foggy - there had to be something he was missing. Some link.
It had all started with the bombing.
No, Chris corrected himself, straightening up in his chair. It had started before the bomb blast that destroyed Buck and JD's home. Or had it? The food poisoning...Buck backing out of the trip to Wyoming. Something had caused Buck to change his mind about the trip. Chris had known that all along. He'd planned to confront Buck about it - about whatever had been bothering Buck since -
Since -
That last case. What was it? Hoyt. Marcus Hoyt.
Chris felt like the sun had just risen. Hoyt. Kevin Murine, the lab tech who had stolen the T-27 from Monica Hastings's lab, had gone to college on a scholarship set up by Hoyt. The nurse - Ava Sanchez or Morales, whatever - who had tried to kill Buck by injecting air into his IV, she too had gone to school on a Hoyt scholarship.
And Ezra had been talking with the ADA about the Hoyt case just before someone tried to run him down in the parking garage.
Buck moaned deep in his throat and moved his head restlessly against the pillow. Chris looked up, alert. "Buck?" he asked softly. "You with me, Pard?"
He waited, hoping to see Buck's eyes open, but nothing happened. Buck made no more noise and he was still. Chris waited, hoping.
Finally, he let his breath out in a deep sigh. "Guess you're just not ready to wake up yet. Never knew you to be so lazy, Buck." He tried to grin, even managed it. Chris sat down again and reached through the metal railings to grasp Buck's hand, careful not to disturb the IV. "Hoyt died in that jailhouse scuffle," he said, speaking out loud. "But - I don't know, Buck, but it just doesn't seem likely that a low-life hood like Hoyt would hire Bolo Orlowski. And it had to be Orlowski that took out your place, either him or the world's best copycat. I don't think Hoyt would have enough cajones to get messed up with Bolo. Intel says Bolo is in retirement. Nothing we have on Hoyt indicates he's in Bolo's league. Besides, if he had Bolo working for him, why send a couple of kids out to kill you and Ezra? Why try that hit and run in the parking garage? That can't have been Bolo, way too sloppy and not his MO at all."
He paused, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the back of Buck's hand. "Maybe I'm wrong," he said slowly. "But I can't help but think there's more to this. I think this has something - some connection - to Sarah and Adam's deaths. And Buck, I have a feeling you know what that connection is. Maybe you don't know you know it, but somewhere, deep inside...Cap'n Nate had the idea you'd been doing your own investigation on Sarah and Adam's murder, all along. Said that was the only reason you went over to the bomb squad. And he seems to think you never stopped looking for the answers. So somewhere, you have a lot of information. Maybe it blew up in the apartment, maybe it didn't. But it's somewhere inside your head." He tightened his grip on Buck's hand. "We're going to look for it, Buck. We're going to figure this out. Not just because I need to know, or to finally get justice for my - for our family. But also because until we know, until the people are punished, you'll never be safe. And I need you to be safe, Buck. Safe and here with me. All of us do. So we're going hunting.
"But this time, Buck, we do it together."
"All of us."
Startled, Chris looked up to see Vin leaning in the doorway. "Vin! I didn't hear you. Where's-" he stopped in mid-sentence as he took in the look on Vin's face. "What?"
Vin came in slowly. His eyes lingered on Buck for a minute, seeking something, Chris wasn't sure what. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned back to Chris. He pulled a crumpled envelope out of the pocket of his jacket. "You need to read this, Chris. And then, I've got all of Buck's stuff on Bolo. You're right. There's a hell of a lot more to this than just Marcus Hoyt."
7777777
JD exited from Montgomery's office and made his way slowly down the hall to the elevators. He pushed the button and the door opened immediately. Stepping inside and pushing the button for the seventh floor, JD leaned back and stared unseeingly at the ceiling.
Memories of the recent scene in Montgomery's office whirled around in his head.
JD stared, mouth open, at the AAD. "I...I don't understand. What do you mean it would be in all of our best interests if I quit Team Seven?"
Montgomery sighed, pulling a large folder into view. "Team Seven has the highest injury rate of any team in the country, did you know that?"
"We also have the highest solve rate in the country," JD fired back.
"The two things are not mutually exclusive." Montgomery tapped the file. "Investigators have come to the conclusion that one of the reasons for the high injury rate is that six men are protecting the seventh."
Silence.
"You mean-" JD's voice failed and he had to clear his throat. "You mean they're protecting me?"
Montgomery shrugged. "Don't you feel that way? I noticed you are rarely in the thick of things. You're usually in the surveillance van. Have you ever even gone undercover?"
Face burning, JD shrugged. The memory of his only undercover assignment - when he'd nearly gotten himself and Ezra killed - caused his stomach to roil bitterly.
"Of course, you are a computer expert. Actually, I understand you are the best the ATF currently has. Upper management thinks you should be in a position where that genius can be fully utilized. I understand you turned down a transfer to the DC office?" It was JD's turn to shrug. He'd never taken the offer very seriously, any more so than he'd taken any of the other offers he'd received since he'd joined the ATF.
"I assume that means you would rather be a field agent?"
"Yeah. I mean, I guess. I never thought of it. I just wanted-"
"Wanted to stay with Team Seven?" Montgomery sighed. "And when there isn't a Team Seven anymore, what will you do then?"
JD stared at him. "That won't happen." His voice sounded shaky and doubtful to his own ears.
"Of course it will. Something with that much fire burns out, usually sooner than later. Even providing Agents Wilmington and Standish both survive their current injuries, eventually Team Seven will fall apart. I just hope you'll all be alive when the end comes."
"The guys won't leave," JD declared, his voice uncertain. He wanted to say 'We're family,' but he felt uncomfortable declaring that to this man.
"Yes, they will. Team Seven is a port in the storm to those men. But the storm will stop and everyone will go back to their own lives. Standish is just here to mend his reputation so he can be accepted back into the FBI. He's overqualified for the position he has now and he knows it. He wants a SAC position so badly he can taste it. Tanner? The Federal Marshals want him back and are willing to pay for him. Nathan Jackson is, essentially, a healer. Sooner or later, he'll find some way to go back to medical school or a hospital position. I know that he and his lady plan on marrying as soon as she finishes school, and then it's his turn."
It all made a terrible kind of sense to JD. He knew Nathan wanted to be a doctor, or even a full-time paramedic. He'd seen the longing in his eyes when he talked about having to drop out of med school. But-
"Buck would never leave," he declared, saying a prayer that Buck wasn't leaving right now. He knew Montgomery was thinking the same thing but the man didn't say it. Instead he leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers.
"Wilmington and Larabee have been close friends for a long time. Most of their lives. Where one goes, the other one follows."
JD frowned. "That's not right."
"Isn't it? They've known each other since high school."
"High school?" JD echoed. That couldn't be true. Could it? Buck would have told him.
"They both joined the Navy after college, ended up as SEALs together."
"Buck was a Navy SEAL?" JD whispered.
"Came back to Denver and both joined the DPD. Then over to the ATF."
JD just stared at him. He didn't know what to think. Why hadn't Buck ever told him - was Montgomery telling the truth? It'd be easy enough to check. Why hadn't he ever checked Buck's background?
Because he'd never thought there was anything Buck hadn't told him. But now, come to think of it, there were gaps in his history. Given Buck's age, and the length of time he was on the police force, there were years unaccounted for between his graduation from college and the police academy. JD knew Buck had been in the military, the Navy, but he never talked about it...
And he'd never mentioned he'd known Chris most of his life.
Montgomery kept talking. JD could barely hear him over the pounding in his head. "Just think about it. If you want to stay with the ATF, you're going to have to start accumulating a better record than you have." He paused. "There are positions available in San Diego — I'm arranging for Bobby Fewell to go there," he made a face. "Instead of wasting his talent in Boise, of all places. Consider taking a temporary assignment there with him, Agent Dunne. With two agents down, Team Seven will be on the sidelines for a few months. It might be a good time to try something different. If nothing else get some variety on your record."
JD barely remembered leaving the AAD's office. His mind was overcome with everything he'd heard. He couldn't seem to make sense out of it. The elevator doors opened and he wearily trudged toward the office.
He felt sick. His heart shattered.
Buck had lied to him.
Buck had been lying to him all along.
7777777
Ezra stirred, turning his head. Light beat on his closed eyelids and wearily, he wished someone would close the blinds. Blinds? What time was it?
Where was he?
With awakening came pain, deep and sharp and cold as the knife that had cut him...
Cut him?
With the pain came the memories, flooding back into his unguarded mind, terrifying and terrorizing.
Where was he?
That man, the blond one - his tortured mind dragged up the name. Wyerly.
David Wyerly.
Was he here? Was he?
He heard a noise, felt a hand grip his, and shot fully awake in a surge of pain and fear. He had to get away-!
"Ezra!"
A voice. Ezra pulled away, only slowly realizing he knew that voice.
A voice that brought comfort, safety, instead of fear.
Someone touched his hand again, gently this time. "Ezra, come on and open your eyes. It's okay. You're safe here in the hospital. I'm right here."
Still shrouded in blackness, he searched for the identity of that voice.
Nathan...Nathan.
"Nathan?" His voice was small and frail. He swallowed hard, only then registering his dry mouth and the searing pain in his throat.
The hand holding his tightened. "Yeah, it's me. You're okay, Ezra. You're safe."
Safe, yes he was safe. He and Nathan might not always get along, but he was always safe when Nathan was there. Nathan or any of his teammates. They'd taught him a long time ago that one of them was always there to watch his back. He remembered then, the last horrible freezing minutes in the cabin, remembered as from a million miles away. The sound of guns, yelling. Knowing that his teammates had come, that they'd looked for him, searched and searched until they'd found him. He started to tell that to Nathan but his mind couldn't seem to communicate with his mouth and only part of it came out. "You came..."
"We came? Of course we came, you idiot. Do you think we'd just leave you up there?"
Ezra forced his frozen lips into a smile. "Of course not," he whispered, closing heavy eyelids again. "I never had the slightest doubt that you all would appear for a timely rescue." The sentence took all his breath and he breathed in deeply through the oxygen tubing.
He heard a snort, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Could have been a little more timely but we did the best we could, Ezra."
"And that - as usual - was enough." Ezra felt sleep pulling at him. There was something else, something he needed to ask Nathan, something important. He forced his eyes open, struggling to remember.
Nathan must have seen the struggle. His other hand came up to rest on Ezra's shoulder, gripping it gently. "Buck's going to be okay. You hear me? They found the antidote to the poison. He's going to make it. And the rest of us are fine. So you just go back to sleep and let yourself heal."
Ezra gave up the fight and let his eyes close again. He thought he might have smiled again, but the soft darkness rushed up to claim him before he could be sure.
7777777
Nathan felt his shoulders relaxing as Ezra slipped back into sleep. Ezra's vital signs had stabilized and his heartbeat was near normal. Now, since Ezra had spoken to him, Nathan hoped this meant the worst was over.
He straightened up, feeling muscles tight with tension. With a nod to the attending nurse, he slipped from the room. They'd be moving Ezra soon, now that he was stable, probably to a room on the Cardiac wing until they knew for sure there was no damage to his heart. Monica Hastings had disappeared with a cardiologist and Nathan hadn't heard what they'd discovered.
He headed for the coffee pot, glancing up at the clock as he moved, then down at his watch, making sure it was correct. As he watched, the digital readout changed to 12:01 a.m. The date flipped over. It was tomorrow already.
Tomorrow...today.
The date. Today - yesterday's date.
His exam, the paramedic recertification exam. He was supposed to have reported for the test at noon on the fifteenth.
It was now the sixteenth.
"Oh shit," Nathan barely could hear his own words over the roaring in his ears.
He'd missed the damned test...
7777777
Josiah slanted his eyes toward his passenger. JD had been silent since joining Josiah for the trip to the hospital. Josiah had immediately told him the good news about Buck, but he was surprised by the response. JD had grinned widely at first, but the smile almost immediately dimmed and soon had vanished altogether. Now his face - as illuminated in passing streetlights - was set in harsh lines that should have made him appear older but instead seemed to rob years from his face.
Someone had to break the silence. Josiah cleared his throat in preparation for speech. "What did Montgomery have to say?" he inquired.
JD started, then shrugged. To Josiah, it appeared as if the younger man was trying too hard to appear nonchalant. "Just wanted to - said that - wanted to talk about-" he stopped suddenly, then shrugged again. "Just some stuff," he added vaguely.
Josiah stopped at a red light, not for the first time mentally bemoaning the necessity for stopping at a deserted intersection. "Stuff?" he asked, gently accelerating the old Suburban as the light changed to green.
JD didn't say anything.
Josiah hazarded a guess. "Did he want to talk about the shooting?"
That got JD's attention. He turned in his seat so he was facing the older man. "No. Not that."
Josiah had an idea, now. "JD. You know you had to shoot Wyerly, don't you?"
"Yeah. I know." JD's voice sounded too calm, too even. "He was going to kill Ezra. I'm okay with it."
Now Josiah was really worried, and confused as well. JD wasn't reacting anything like he'd expected, with his lack of response about Buck and his seeming lack of concern about the shooting. Josiah well remembered how devastated the younger man had been the first time he shot someone in the line of duty - and that had been only a flesh wound. Before he could say anything, JD abruptly asked, "Is he still alive?"
Josiah nodded. "Yes. He's critical, though."
JD sighed. "I had to do it," he said again. "He was going to kill Ezra."
Since that was exactly what Josiah had been thinking, he couldn't decide why he was so disturbed to realize the shooting apparently was not the reason for JD's bizarre behavior.
7777777
To JD, the whole drive - hell the whole day - seemed surreal, everything blocked and overwhelmed by the memory of his conversation with the AAD. He couldn't even figure out what bothered him more: the implication he wasn't carrying his weight on Team Seven or the idea that Buck had a whole history with Chris he'd never mentioned.
How could Buck have known Chris since high school and never told JD? Been a Navy SEAL? Why?
He'd thought he and Buck were close - closer than best friends, even, more like brothers. Buck was the big brother he'd always wanted. And the best friend a guy could have. He'd told Buck everything about his own life: growing up poor in Boston without a dad, the jeers and derision of his schoolmates because he was smaller and younger but always so much smarter. Going to Boston U and MIT- expensive schools peopled with the children of the rich - on scholarships that left nothing over for a night out with friends or even a meal. And worst of all, watching his beloved mother dying - slowly, in pain - - just as he should have been emerging into independence and his own life. Losing her, being left alone with only her memory and a mountain of her medical debts.
He thought Buck had told him all about his life, as well. But now he realized he didn't know much of anything about Buck's past. Buck told a lot of stories, but about frivolous things. Women. Wild adventures with Chris when they were cops; stories that made Chris roll his eyes or even just shake his head. Were they true?
Things he had assumed to be true were now revealed to be false.
Could he trust anything Buck had ever told him?
"How long do you think Buck and Chris have known each other?" he asked, shattering the brittle silence.
After a long pause, Josiah said slowly, "When I joined the team, Buck told me that he and Chris had been partners together in the DPD."
"But-?" JD prompted, hearing something unsaid.
Their profiler sighed. "But. From the way they act toward each other - some of the things they say, just in general conversation, I would guess they've been friends for a long while. Before joining the DPD. I think they probably knew each other when they were kids. And, I think they've been close probably as long."
JD let out pent-up breath. "That's what Montgomery said," he murmured. He leaned back in his seat. "But why, Josiah? Why would they lie about it?"
Another pause.
"I wouldn't say they lied, really," Josiah said slowly. "Rather they - or Buck, since Chris doesn't like to talk about any of his past - told the truth, just not all of the truth."
"A lie by omission is still a lie," JD replied hotly.
"Maybe. Maybe they just didn't think it was any of our business."
JD felt his hackles rising. "But why-?"
Josiah sighed. "JD, there could be a lot of reasons. One is that Buck - for all of his chatter and stories - really doesn't talk that much about his life. Oh, he gives the appearance of doing so, but he really doesn't. I would imagine you know more about Buck than any of the rest of us. Except for Chris, of course."
"I thought I knew him," JD said. "Montgomery said Buck and Chris were in the SEALs together. Buck knows that-" he couldn't say how exciting he'd thought Chris' SEALs duty was, how it had just added to the hero-worship he'd carried about the man. "Why wouldn't he talk about it? Isn't he proud of it?"
"JD, do you remember when Mary Travis was trying to get Chris' background for that article she was writing for the Denver News-Clarion? She came to Buck when she couldn't get anything out of Chris?"
JD frowned. He remembered that, vaguely. It had been right after he'd joined the team. "I read that article. Buck didn't tell her anything she couldn't have found out on her own."
"I know that. But when Chris found out Buck had talked to her at all, he was furious. I've never seen him that angry, before or since."
JD remembered Buck coming home one night with bruises on his face and neck. And the next day Nathan had insisted on sending him to the hospital for X-rays when he'd got a look at Buck's swollen hand. There'd been two broken bones and he'd worn a cast for a month. And Chris had shown up at work with a bruised jaw-
JD gasped. "You think Chris beat him up about it?" He demanded in an outraged tone.
"I didn't say that. I imagine Buck gave as good as he got. But I think they definitely had it out."
Fury roared up in JD, thick and bitter and he could taste it. Sometimes he hated Chris Larabee for the way he treated Buck. Knowing it had been going on for so long made it somehow worse. But before he could say anything, a small voice whispered in his mind, 'Buck takes it. Buck takes it and comes back for more.' And he could hear Montgomery saying "They've been friends for more than half their lives."
He didn't say anything more to Josiah. He couldn't. He curled into himself, trying desperately to recover his emotional footing.
His world was shattering and he feared soon it would soon crash around his ears.
tbc...