A/N: I had more problems with this section than the entire rest of the story. Many thanks to my beta Wendy and the people on the FB page M7 Fic Corral for helping me get through it!

Summary: Vin learns some of Chris and Buck's shared history, including their past with Regional Assistant Manager Montgomery; JD and Casey have a heartbreaking confrontation

Part 33

"Chris? Chris!"

Chris forced heavy eyelids open. He blinked, focusing on Vin's face. "Vin?" he stifled a yawn. "Where did you come from?"

"The waiting room." Vin gently elbowed Chris over and dropped down beside him on the hard bench. He made a face. "You fell asleep on this thing? Nathan's right, you need to go home and get some sleep."

"Nathan? I thought he was with JD?"

"JD took off out of here like the devil himself was after him. Nathan said you two got into it about something?"

Chris felt like he was at least a hundred years old. He rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. You could say that," he muttered. "So, did Nathan find JD?"

Vin shook his head. "We looked Buck's truck ain't in the lot. Woke up Josiah, and he's trying to figure out where JD lit off to." Vin looked toward Buck's room. "How's Buck doing?"

"Sleeping. Doc gave him a sedative. JD and I beating the crap out of each other in front of him, didn't do him any good." Chris heard the bitterness in his tone.

Vin's eyes widened. "Wondered where you got the bloody nose. So, you two were really fighting?"

"More like he was going after me," Chris admitted. "And I deserved it. But I didn't handle it right, when I saw Buck –" he shook his head. "And then I went right back at JD." He leaned his aching head against the wall, then suddenly thought of Ezra. "Wait. Who's with Ezra? If you're here, and Josiah and Nate are looking for JD –"

"No, Nathan went back in with Ez," Vin assured him.

"But he left him alone for a while!" Chris raged. "I said I didn't want him left alone. With that David Wyerly in the room next door –"

"Easy, Cowboy, Ez wasn't alone," Vin soothed. "There are two agents from Team Three right in front of his door. And Wyerly is dead."

Chris stated at Vin. "What?"

Vin nodded. "Died a couple of hours ago."

If Vin had thought that information would calm Chris down, he was very much mistaken. "Does JD know?" Chris demanded.

Vin looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Don't know. No, I don't think so. Don't think anyone had a chance to tell him."

Chris rubbed eyes that felt gritty and tired. "Wonderful," he muttered. "When OPR finds out Wyerly is dead, they're going to want to interview JD all over again. And the mood he's in now…there's no telling how he'll take that."

"Maybe Montgomery will stop the interview again," Vin offered.

Chris was so tired; it took him a few minutes to realize what Vin had said. Then he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at Vin. "Montgomery stopped JD's interview? What was Montgomery even doing there?"

"Oh, hell," Vin shook his head. "I forgot; you didn't know that. Josiah said Montgomery stormed into JD's OPR interview and stopped it cold. Hauled him out of there."

"And?" Chris could hear the ice in his own voice. And of course, so could Vin. He shot Chris a look and shook his head. "I don't know. Montgomery and JD disappeared for a while, then I left to come over here. JD came back to the office, but Josiah said he didn't say anything about what had happened but –" he hesitated.

"What?" Chris prodded.

"Josiah said he asked him how long he thought you and Buck had really known each other."

That took a second to register. Then Chris banged his head back against the wall. "Fuck," he hissed.

"Chris?"

Chris now had a good idea that JD had probably been angry and upset before he'd ever got to Buck's room. And then to hear Chris telling the doctor that he'd caused that wound in Buck's throat – no wonder the usually non-violent JD had erupted into physical violence.

"What's with you and Montgomery, anyway?" Vin asked. "You two been locking horns since Montgomery showed up in Denver."

"He's an ass, and he hates my guts. The feeling is mutual," Chris added drily. "He's not supposed to have anything to do with my team. Buck and I made that clear to Travis when Montgomery showed up. I don't know who he screwed to get a cushy ATF job – but, when he showed up, I told Travis he wasn't go come near me, or Buck, or Team Seven. I should have slapped him down when he first started sticking his nose into this investigation!"

"So, you think Montgomery told JD something about you and Buck –"

Chris snorted. "Oh, I'd bet money on it. With his own spin on it, probably."

"But what could he know?"

"Oh, hell, he knows a lot. And thinks he knows a lot more." Chris sighed. "Montgomery knows Buck and I from way back."

After a pause, Vin said, "Longer back than your DPD days?" At Chris' nod, he added,
"Back when you two were SEALs together?"

"You knew Buck was in the SEALs? How? He never told you."

"No, he didn't. I guessed," Vin admitted. "He says things, I didn't even think at first, just Navy popped into my head. Then one morning, I stayed over at his place and he made breakfast the next morning. SOS."

Chris was confused. "So? I've made it for you before."

"Yeah, you did. And you both put tomato sauce in it."

That didn't clear anything up for Chris. "It's supposed to have tomato sauce in it."

Vin shook his head. "Chris, Army don't even call it SOS. It's cream chipped beef on toast. Or slop, if an officer ain't around. Marines and Navy call it SOS. And nobody who's ever been a Marine, would put tomato sauce in it. That's strictly a Navy thing."

Maybe his team were better detectives than Chris had been giving them credit for. Or at least Vin was. Now that Chris thought about it, Vin had been in the Army for a few years. Josiah, too, had served. And yes, Buck – and Chris himself — did tend to use Navy terms, like calling the bathroom the head and the kitchen the galley, at times, although being married to Sarah had knocked a lot of that usage from his vocabulary. "Who else knows?"

"Ezra," Vin replied promptly. "Hell, he knew before he ever came to Denver. Did some background checks on both of you. And you know Ez. He can work his way around a computer almost as well as JD." He paused. "It's not like we sit around and talk about you, when you aren't around," he added, almost apologetically. "But I 'magine Josiah and Nathan know – suspect – something." He shook his head. "But JD didn't. So if he found out something, he probably didn't take it well. He said something to Josiah about you and Buck lying to us."

"We never lied," Chris protested. He closed his eyes briefly. "Well, we never meant to lie. It's just… Vin, things happened when we were SEALs. Some… bad things. Especially to Buck. He doesn't like to think about it. And we can't talk about it."

"I was a Ranger, remember, Chris?" Vin said gently. "I know what classified means."

Chris felt his lips stretch in a humorless grin. "There's classified… and then there's so top secret it won't be unclassified until the next millennium. Buck even more than me."

After a telling pause, Vin almost whispered, "Wet work?"

Chris stared at the ceiling. "When you're fighting for your country… no," he shook his head. "When they're telling you you're defending your country, protecting your home; you do a lot of things you never thought you'd ever have to do. Things the recruiters didn't talk about, or the ROTC, or BUD/s training. Things it's hard to live with so you just… put it in a part of your brain and wall it off. Never let it see the light of day. Because you can't talk about it. Hell, I could be put in Leavenworth for just saying this much."

Chris let out his breath in a long sigh. "We can't talk about it, so we just don't bring it up. I think Buck just decided it would be easier not to mention it than have to tell people he couldn't talk about it."

He thought for a few minutes, then added, "I've known Buck… well, most of our lives. He was… he is… an idealist, in a way. The things we – he – had to do… it hurt him, deep inside."

"I know he has bad dreams," Vin said. "But hell, all of us do."

"Buck saw his mother die when he was sixteen years old. Held her as she bled out," Chris said harshly. He was giving away one of Buck's secrets, but he had to make Vin understand.

He felt Vin startle. "Knew she died. Knew she was murdered, even. But I didn't think he was just a kid when it happened." He stopped, then went on, "Chris – don't mean to pry – but just how long have you two been friends? I know it's been longer than ten or twelve years. You say things, sometimes, both of you, when you're relaxed, having a good time. Things that make it pretty clear you go way back."

"We met when he transferred to my high school after his mom died. When we were juniors." He stopped, swallowed down the lump in his throat. "We've been – best friends – since that first day."

Vin frowned. "But you're older than he is."

Chris shrugged. "Sixteen months. How'd we end up in the same year in school? Must have to do when our birthdays fall, I guess. My dad was military when I was a kid. We were stationed in Texas and I missed the cut off date for kindergarten by a couple weeks. Wherever Buck started school had a later cutoff date. Plus, I think he skipped a year. Not sure. He and his mom… moved around a lot when he was a kid. More than my family did, even."

"I guessed he'd lived a bunch of places," Vin admitted. "So how'd you end up in the SEALs together?"

"Navy was my idea. My dad was Navy. Grandfather too. I always knew I'd go in after college. Used to think I'd be a lifer, like they were." Chris smiled. "SEALs were Buck's idea. He used to say, if we're going in, we might as well go whole hog. I never thought we'd both qualify, end up on the same team. But we did."

He closed his eyes again, remembering those days. He could hear the bitterness in his tone again. "Neither one of us knew what it really meant. What we'd have to do. What we'd have to live with. After that last mission – we both got out. Kind of made a pact. We'd never talk about it except with each other. Buck keeps in touch with some of our old friends – more than I do – but nobody from that last year. Not that many of them are still alive," he added in a whisper.

He felt Vin shift next to him. "Chris, everybody knows you were in the SEALs," he pointed out. "You were on the cover of Time Magazine!"

Chris leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling but not really seeing it. "Our last mission was fucked up," he said finally. "FUBAR, whatever. It was supposed to be a quick, in and out, smooth as milk. I wasn't even there, I was the team leader, but I out onboard ship. Buck was the demo man. He was in charge."

He took a deep breath, went on. "I don't know…we'll probably never know, if it was just bad intel, or if someone deliberately withheld information. But… a lot of people died. A lot of people who shouldn't have, died." His voice dropped down to a whisper.

He knew his voice was harsh. "The Navy called it a success. We saved the hostage, took out the target. The fact a whole bunch of innocent people died, that was just collateral damage. But the kind of damage that looks really bad in the papers back home. So, they brought in the spin doctors, came up with a script, shipped me back stateside to be the hero of the hour before I even knew what all had really happened." He shook his head. "Most of my team was dead," he said bitterly. "Buck was the real hero, he got the hostage out, but he was hurt bad. Critical."

After a long silence, Vin asked, "How was Montgomery involved? Was he a SEAL?"

Chris snorted. "Montgomery a SEAL? Never. No, he was a PR guy, some congressman's lackey. Came up with the idea to blame the whole mess on the team members who had died. That they'd fucked up, not that the whole mission was a mess. SECNAV didn't go along with that. You know the military. Spun the story their own way."

Vin looked confused. "So – why do you and Montgomery hate each other's guts?"

Chris met Vin's eye, then looked away. "Someone leaked the story to the Washington Post."

Vin's eyes widened.

"The reporter it was intended for – some SOB who thought all military were baby killers, he was gone that day. His editor got the message instead." God, he was tired, and remembering all this wasn't helping. He hadn't talked about this in years. He and Buck had only talked about it once. Chris hadn't even wanted to think about it. The memory of him posing, plastic smile on his face and prepared story on his lips, covering up the FUBAR while his team members were buried and his best friend lingered in a coma, was something out of his nightmares. But Vin needed to understand. Chris made himself go on. "The editor sat on the story. I don't know why. But the leak was traced back to the congressman's office."

"Montgomery?" Vin asked.

"Damn right," Chris snapped. "It was a bloodbath. Montgomery thought he was White House material, but his future went to hell when the shit hit the fan. That story will always be out there, dogging him. I honestly don't know how he even got into the ATF, much less got to be second to Travis. Blackmailed somebody, knowing him."

After a pause, Vin asked, "How much of this does Travis know?"

"I didn't tell him any of it," Chris admitted. "Just told him to keep Travis away from my people. But Travis has been in law enforcement a long time, and he has a lot of contacts. I'm damn sure he knows the story."

"So why isn't Travis yanking Montgomery's chain?"

Chris closed his eyes again, and this time he couldn't open them. "Travis has been in DC. Guess Montgomery took advantage of it." He forced his eyes open, started to stand up. "But, his butting in ends now. I'm going to –"

"No," Vin said firmly. "Not now. You're not going to do anything but get some sleep." He held out a hand. "Don't say it. I'll take you home, then I'll come back and stay with Buck. We've got DPD and ATF guys guarding this whole floor. Nate's with Ez. And Josiah can get through to JD, if anybody can. You need to sleep."

Chris wanted to argue, but he couldn't. He had pushed himself too far and his body was calling in the markers, now. He managed to protest, "My place is too far away."

"I'll take you to Ezra's," Vin said promptly. "It's the closest, anyway, and he won't care. Just don't mess up his fancy silk PJs."

7777777

JD clenched his hands into fists and shoved them deep into his pockets as he walked into the barn. He'd been about to enter Chris' house when he'd abruptly detoured to the barn. He should check on the horses.

Growing up in Boston, JD had never imagined he'd have his own horse. He'd loved the riding lessons his mother's employer had paid for, insisting that JD should learn along with her own grandchildren. When he was fourteen, JD had returned to those stables, begging for a job, any job. He'd mucked out stalls, fed horses, groomed them, exercise them. The riding students were supposed to care for their own mounts and some of them did, but their assistance was mostly limited to grooming and the sometimes dishing out hay or grain. Most of them had never cleaned out a stall – wouldn't even know how to start. JD was small for his age, but he was strong and he developed muscles working before and after school and all day on weekends. He got to keep riding, too, something his mother would never have been able to afford. It didn't matter to him that he had to take both a subway ride and a bus to get there and back. And the money had helped. By the time he was sixteen, he was making enough to pay for his clothes and supplies at school and put a little aside every week. He'd been so proud he didn't have to ask his mother for these things anymore. He'd kept his grades up – which was his mother's mandate – and kept working there even into college. By then he was giving riding lessons too. He'd had to give the job up when he'd graduated from the police academy and joined the force because his hours that first year were just too irregular.

Then his mom had gotten sick….

One of the wonderful things about his new life was in Denver was his horse. Well, technically the playful gelding wasn't his. Legally Chris owned Milagro. Or maybe Chris and Buck both owned him, JD wasn't sure. But from the first day he'd come to the ranch and volunteered to help care for the horses, it was just agreed that Milagro would be JD's mount. He – like all the guys – paid Chris some money every month and took turns coming out to do the barn chores. Up until recently, Chris had had a regular employee, a teenage girl, who came regularly after school to feed and water and exercise the horses, especially if Team Seven was tied up with a case. Chris still expected each team member to come out at least weekly and care for their own personal horse, or at least the one they rode most of the time.

The girl was in college now, her first year, and just before spring break, she'd told Chris she'd got hired at the university library. More consistent hours, better pay, even if JD would have hated having to give up the stables for something like shelving returned books and reminding people they couldn't check out reference materials. But he knew how hard trying to work your way through school was, even with scholarship help. Chris had mentioned looking for someone to replace her but, with one thing and another, he hadn't had time to find the right person. And of course, lately, Buck and Ezra weren't in any shape to help. One of the reasons JD had spent so many nights at Chris' after the explosion that made him homeless, was because he thought taking care of the horses would relieve that from Chris' mind. Vin came out a lot too. Chris mentioned his various neighbors were helping, and that two or three of them were always able to come over if Team Seven got tied up and couldn't get there. But JD was here now, and he was going to check the animals.

No signs of them being fed yet this morning, and really, there shouldn't be. Surely whatever neighbor on morning horse duty wouldn't be here this early. But the horses were used to Chris feeding them about this time before he went to work, and two of them were already standing with their noses in the feed boxes. In spite of himself, JD had to smile. Like was much simpler with horses. Horses didn't lie to tell you and tell you things they thought you wanted to know, or not tell you things that they thought you'd be better off not knowing. There weren't a lot of inferences about horses. If a horse was hungry, it wanted to eat, not talk about a new girlfriend or try to tell you something you knew wasn't true. Horses were honest.

JD pulled large flakes of hay from the bales and dropped them into seven mangers; used the big metal scoop to portion out quarts of sweet feed. He checked the troughs to make sure each had water. Chris had an automatic thing that filled them but still, it malfunctioned sometimes, and it was best to check. Then he pulled carrots from the bin and offered one to each horse, ending with Buck's big gray and his own Milagro. Paladin – and JD never could figure out why Buck had named a mare that – gently took the carrot from his outstretched and chomped it down, nuzzling him when she was done.

"You're a good girl," he told her, stroking her forehead, rubbing her neck. She stretched into the caress. In the adjoining stall, Chris' big black, Pony – and really, where the hell did Chris and Buck get these names for their horses? – snorted in discontent, eyeing JD. He started toward JD, but Pal moved over, blocking him. That was unlike the gray, who was normally placid and good-natured. "You lonely?" JD asked her. "You miss Buck, too, don't you?"

He was stalling, and he knew it. As much as he wanted to go into that house and find the information he needed to know, he was reluctant to, as well. Afraid to find out everything he'd believed, everything he'd based his life on, was a lie. Lies. All lies.

He'd thought about it during the long drive out here from the hospital. Really, did it make any difference in the long run that Buck and Chris had known each other longer – much longer, if David Montgomery was to be believed – than they had said? Did it matter that Buck had been in the SEALs with Chris? Was it really important that he'd never told JD all about it?

And yes, it did.

JD thought he and Buck were – closer than friends or even roommates. That they were brothers in all but fact, that shared everything. JD had told Buck all about his life, about growing up without a father, with his mom working as housekeeper and then as a cleaning lady; struggling to support him, to put away a little every month for his education. He'd told Buck about working at the stables, and all the other jobs he'd held after school and during the summers, to help his mom out. Told him about working so hard in school, discovering computers and how they just seemed to talk to him, to make sense. Getting the scholarship to MIT. His mother being so proud. Deciding he wanted a career in law enforcement…

JD started for the house, pulling Buck's keys from his pocket. He'd stayed here off and on since the loft had been destroyed, until his anger with Chris – well, with everything - had escalated to the point where he'd ended up camping out in Ezra's place more often than not. At least he didn't have to go searching for the hide-a-key. Chris moved the key around. Really, it would be so much easier if Chris just made each of them their own copy – the way Ezra finally had after the third time someone had to kick his fancy door down to save his life – but, no Chris Larabee expected his friends – no, his team members – to play hide and seek with the key. Except Buck. Hell, Vin didn't even have his own key.

Well, JD didn't think Vin had his own key.

Come to think of it, why did Buck have a key and Vin didn't?

That didn't really gel with JD's accusation that Chris had replaced Buck with Vin.

But, now that JD was thinking about it, and – he admitted to himself – cooling down a little, a lot of things didn't gel with the idea that Chris didn't care about Buck. Like how Chris had been acting ever since the explosion. Since Buck had been poisoned.

JD reached for his anger again. He didn't want to sympathize with Chris, to think that Chris had been as worried about Buck as JD himself had. He forced himself to think that Chris had admitted he'd stabbed Buck, that he was responsible for that old injury that had made Buck's situation so much worse in the present.

But it was an old injury. Probably, JD admitted, from that black period right after Sarah and Adam died, that period that neither Chris nor Buck ever talked about. And Buck had obviously forgiven Chris. Hell, Buck had probably never held it against Chris in the first place.

Any more than he would have held something like that against JD himself.

He fingered the key, looked at the door. He was fighting a battle with himself. What did he expect to accomplish here? He'd been so determined to dig into those files, to prove that Buck and Chris had been lying to everyone about their past, but really, what difference did it make? So he was mad – no, hurt – that Buck hadn't told him about being in the SEALs, but Buck had to have had some reason for that. What difference did it make if Buck and Chris had known each other twenty years instead of ten? Did it change JD's feelings about Buck, or Buck's feelings for him? So JD had told Buck everything about his own life. Did that mean Buck owed him the same? JD didn't know everything about Josiah's history, or Nathan's or Vin's either. And nobody knew which of Ezra's or Maude's stories about Ezra's life were true or not. JD accepted that. He hadn't even thought he should know about them, so why was he so determined he had to know the truth about Buck and Chris?

He'd been acting like – JD felt his face get hot – like the kid they all referred to him as. Yes, JD had lost his home, and he was terrified he'd lose Buck too, but his teammates had been doing their best to help him, and instead of appreciating that, he'd been running around snapping at everyone and accusing people and acting like… well, like an angry, hateful child.

JD took a deep breath and let it out. He turned around and started back down the steps. He'd get in the truck and go back to the hospital, apologize to Chris, apologize to everyone, and start acting like the adult he was supposed to be.

Hell, maybe they all called him a kid because he kept acting like one.

A small car tore up the drive and stopped with a swirl of gravel. The driver's side door flew open and Casey Wells jumped out.

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Josiah quietly eased the door shut and crossed the ICU cubicle in two long strides, lowering himself into the chair at bedside. He sipped from the Styrofoam cup in his hand, wincing at the bitterness. The coffee was hours old; it must have been made by the night shift nurses before the day shift came on duty. Still, it was better than the watery concoction in the vending machines, and he hadn't wanted to leave Buck long enough to go to the cafeteria. Even with another ATF agent stationed outside the room, and a policeman just outside the ICU entrance, Josiah was very aware that there had been multiple attempts on both Buck's and Ezra's lives, some in this very hospital.

Multiple attempts. And apparently, multiple assailants. Kevin Murine and that nurse – Yvette Morales – both had links to Marcus Hoyt. And Hoyt had every reason to have grudges against Buck and Ezra, even to want them dead. But Marcus Hoyt was dead himself, killed in his jail cell. With him dead, his organization – what was left of it after the US Attorney's office got done – was in chaos, with other Denver criminal organizations moving in to scoop up the remains. Hoyt apparently hadn't believed in delegating authority. He didn't even have a second-in-command. There was his niece, but when Josiah had interviewed her, she'd seemed honestly shocked that her uncle was anything but an honest citizen. Still, there was something about her. Josiah made a mental note to follow up with Ms. Sarah Bryant as soon as possible. The feds had confiscated Hoyt's mansion, but surely there was a current address for her in the files somewhere.

But…and this, to Josiah, was a big sticking point, Buck was certain the bomb that had decimated the CDC had been fabricated by Bolo Orlowski. Buck was far more knowledgeable about bombs and the people that used them than Josiah would ever be. If he said it was Bolo Orlowski's work, then it was. But Bolo Orlowski was an internationally renowned saboteur and explosives expert, an assassin. Marcus Hoyt, although he'd been starting to branch out into neighboring states, was not in the same league at all. How would Marcus Hoyt even know how to contact Orlowski? And Orlowski was could command huge fees; Josiah had gone through Hoyt's financials himself and seen no sign of such an expenditure. Plus, why would Hoyt hire Orlowski and then turn around and utilize local people like Kevin Murine and Yvette Morales?

Then there was David Wyerly, who had captured, tortured and would have killed Ezra. But Wyerly had nothing to do with Hoyt. Wyerly was seeking revenge for his cousin's death. He'd said so himself. And Wyerly would have had no reason to kill Buck. Besides, Wyerly couldn't have afforded Orlowski either. His uncle could have. But no matter how hard they looked, they couldn't find any hint indication that Arthur Curran had even known what his nephew was planning. For that matter there was no concrete proof the senior Curran was anything but an honest businessman.

But Vin had said that there was a link between Murine and David Wyerly. Monica Hastings had told Vin her cousin visited Murine at her lab. And they knew Kevin Murine had stolen the T-27 from Riverside Pharmaceuticals. David couldn't have stolen it on his own. Monica had sworn he'd never been past her office into the actual lab. The investigation into Riverside had borne that out –

Josiah stiffened. Wait. There was something… something that didn't add up –

The quiet beeping of the EKG sped up and Josiah glanced at Buck. The younger man's eyelashes were fluttering and as Josiah watched, his eyes slowly opened.

"Welcome back, brother," Josiah greeted him warmly.

Buck opened his mouth, then coughed and ran his tongue over dry lips. His eyes flickered over to the water pitcher next to Josiah. Anticipating his need, Josiah poured a little water into the cup and then opened the bedside drawer and located a straw. Buck sucked up the offered liquid greedily and then leaned tiredly back in the bed. His eyes flickered around the small room. "Chris… go home?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Vin took him off to get some sleep, something to eat. He'll be back in a few hours."

Buck nodded. "Good." He breathed in the oxygen through his nose. Then he looked back at Josiah. "You seen… JD?"

Josiah sighed. "No. I looked for him, but he left the hospital."

Buck closed his eyes. "I should have stopped them."

"Stopped who?" Josiah hazarded a guess. "JD and Chris?"

Buck nodded.

Josiah wasn't exactly sure what had happened between JD and Chris earlier, he just knew they had got into a fight – an actual physical confrontation – in front of Buck. But he knew Buck's personality well enough to know the younger man was blaming himself somehow for what had happened.

"Given you've just come out of a coma, I really don't know what you could have done, Buck," he pointed out gently.

Buck managed a smile that disappeared quickly. "It was my fault."

"How?" Josiah couldn't help the frustration in his tone.

Buck shrugged. "Chris and I… we got a lot of skeletons in the closet, 'Siah. Guess one just came tumblin' out."

Josiah looked up at the ceiling, then back down. "And did that – skeleton – have absolutely anything to do with JD?"

After a long pause, Buck shook his head.

"Didn't think so." Josiah paused, then went on carefully. "We all have pasts, Buck." He grinned ruefully. "Well, maybe not so much JD. But the rest of us… we all have history. Things we maybe don't want to talk about. Things we aren't all that proud of. You and Chris aren't any different than the rest of us."

"You forget something, Josiah. I helped Chris put this team together." Buck had to stop and breathe. "I've seen all of the files." He managed a grin. "Even Ezra's."

"Maybe so. But Buck, you and I both know files are just words printed on paper. Sometimes," Josiah smiled, "With heavy lines blacking out the words. Words. Not feelings or reasons or anything that really matters. I don't know what JD found out about you and Chris. I do know that someone has been talking to him, filling his head with ideas."

Buck raised his head. His eyes widened, then narrowed. "Montgomery," he spat out.

"That would be my guess. I don't know what all was said; JD didn't tell me. But he did ask me how long I thought you and Chris had known each other. I'm pretty sure he realizes now it's more than ten years."

"More like twenty-five." Buck met Josiah's eyes.

Josiah couldn't hide his surprise. He'd known it was a long time, but – "You were just –you were still in high school?"

Buck nodded. He gestured for the water again and drained the cup. "I'm sorry. About lying to you all, I mean. We didn't… when the team was getting started it wasn't –and Chris has always been like a bear with a head cold about people askin' about his past. My past is my own, Buck. That's what he said, when the team first started coming together. Doesn't ever seem to dawn on him, most of it's my past too, but he's got his reasons. And there are things….things I can't talk about. Things JD would never understand even if I could." Buck took another breath from the oxygen tube, exhaustion glazing his eyes. "And…the damn thing, what JD was so upset about – at least what I think it was, I was asleep most of it… that wasn't that long ago. Not too long after Sarah and Adam…Chris had some… dark days. I just got in his way."

"And you just accepted that as your fault." It wasn't a question. Josiah had seen some things in Chris and Buck's dynamic that often made him uncomfortable.

Buck disagreed. "No, I didn't. It wasn't my fault. But it wasn't his either, really. It was more of an accident than anything else." Not even seeming aware of what he was doing, Buck rubbed his fingers along the bandage where his tracheotomy had been. "Honestly, Chris didn't even remember it happened until recently. It wasn't even JD's business. I guess JD just walked in in the middle of Chris and the doctor talking about it. And he just flipped out on Chris."

Josiah thought for a long moment. He had his own ideas about JD's behavior. Finally he said, "Buck, now matter how many times we call JD the kid, he is an adult. He's supposed to be, at least." He shrugged. "We all do have the right to our pasts. JD needs to understand that. No matter how much he thinks he is, he's not entitled to know anything in your past that you don't choose to tell him."

Buck's head moved back and forth against the pillow. "It's not that simple, Josiah," he protested. "My choice isn't the problem."

"I understand that," Josiah said quietly. "I think JD will come to understand as well." He eyed Buck with worry and covered the other man's hand with his own. "JD will be fine," he said with reassurance. "You need to rest right now."

There was a rap on the door and Josiah looked over there, expecting to see a nurse enter. Instead, it was the policeman who had been stationed outside the unit. He glanced at Josiah and then over his head to Buck. "Wilmington," he greeted him.

"Sgt. Powell," Buck said faintly, his eyes fluttering closed.

Powell hesitated, opened his mouth, and then looked at Josiah. "Can I talk to you out here?" he asked.

Josiah glanced at Buck and realized the man had dozed off in the last few seconds. He stood, straightening painfully, and stepped around to follow the police sergeant out the door.

There was another man out there, as tall as Josiah but decades younger, early thirties possibly, clean shaven, with dark blond hair curling around his ears. He wore a dark blue polo shirt and khakis, with white running shoes. He was practically vibrating with tension. He started forward. "I've got to talk to Buck," he said intently.

Josiah had never seen this man before. His eyes caught the badge at the man's waist. The silver shield of a Denver police department detective. He held up a hand to stop him. "Buck isn't up to visitors right now," Josiah said.

"This isn't a damn social call, Agent –" the man broke off, looking at Powell.

"Agent Sanchez," Powell filled in, surprising Josiah.

"Agent Sanchez. Great, right, glad to meet you. Detective Phil Bradley. Denver Cold Case. I've got to talk to Buck now." The detective a quick, rapid-fire way of speaking, like an automatic weapon spitting out bullets. He moved forward and Josiah moved to stop him.

"Phil, I've got to say, Wilmington didn't look like he'd be able to be much help right now," Powell interjected.

Bradley ignored him, his eyes fixed on Josiah. "I've got to talk to him; I've got to get his files!"

Files again. Josiah shook his head. "There is a procedure for that. Fill out a request and go through channels—"

"Not ATF files!" Bradley snapped. "The Larabee files!"

"Gentlemen!" One of the nurses was glaring from the round nurses' station. "This isn't a conference center. You need to take this out of here."

Josiah hesitated. Powell seemed to read his mind. "Phil, I don't think Wilmington is going to be much help right now. You need to talk to Larabee."

Bradley's eyes widened. "Chris Larabee? Buck always said to leave him out of this –"

Josiah had no idea what either one of them were talking about. Then it occurred to him. Cold Case. Larabee. "You mean the files about Sarah and Adam's murders? Why would Buck have those? He hasn't been with the DPD in years."

"Gentlemen!" It was the nurse again.

Josiah made a decision. He didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't going to leave Buck long enough to figure all this out. He pulled out his phone and pushed the button to dial Chris' cell number.

7777777

JD stared at Casey. He couldn't believe she was here. He moved quickly, wrapping her in his arms and feeling her hug him back. They stood there for a few minutes, just holding each other. JD closed his eyes. It felt so good, so right, to hold Casey, to be with her. His throat felt tight, and he had to clear it a few times before he could manage to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. I couldn't think where you'd be, you weren't answering your phone. I thought, maybe you'd come out here to go for a ride." Casey gestured toward the barn.

"Why were you looking for me?" JD wanted to know.

"Josiah called me. He said," her voice faded, then she went on, "He told me about Ezra being kidnapped, and he said… he said you had to –"

Like a torrent of ice water, everything crashed over JD's head. He pulled away from her. "He told you I killed someone?"

Casey nodded. She started toward him, but JD stepped back. "Let's go in the house," he said curtly, fumbling for the key.

It was chilly in Chris' house. JD walked to the thermostat and nudged it up. "It'll warm up in a minute." His voice sounded strange to his own ears, tight and harsh.

He had been so happy to see Casey just a few minutes before, but now he didn't know how he felt. He was confused, and angry, and lost. He remembered what Casey's roommate Alicia had said. Casey hadn't been answering her cell phone last night or into the wee hours of this morning. He turned to look at her. Casey wasn't dressed as if she'd thrown on clothes when Josiah had called her. She was wearing black jeans, really tight ones, tucked into the hand-tooled boots Vin and Ezra had gone in together to buy her last Christmas. The gray hooded jacket wasn't zipped up all the way, and he could see under it she had on a black halter top and a sheer, glittery blouse. JD had never seen her in clothes like that. Casey usually wore practical things, jeans and t-shirts or sweaters. Being in her last year of vet school, she didn't have a lot of extra money to spend on sexy, expensive clothes like these. Even when JD had taken her to a New Year's Eve party at one of Denver's most exclusive hotels, she'd borrowed a dress from Alicia rather than buying one. But these clothes today fit her like they'd been tailored to her; somehow JD knew she'd bought them herself, not borrowed them.

And there was more. She was wearing make-up, a lot of it, much more and heavier than normal. Her eyes, especially, were anointed with many layers of mascara and sparkling eye shadow. The mascara was a little smeared under her eyes. And her hair was slipping from what JD could only assume had been some fancy up-do.

"She's out with Stephen Nichols." That was what Alicia had said when JD had called.

Casey looked a little uncomfortable with JD's scrutiny. She started past him for the kitchen. "I'll make some breakfast," she said, a little too-cheerfully.

JD followed her. He stood in the doorway as she rummaged in the fridge for bacon and eggs and butter. "Can you make the coffee?" Casey asked, still in that fake-happy voice.

JD didn't move. "How was your date?" He asked coldly.

Casey stiffened. She let the refrigerator door close and put the items in her arms down on the counter before turning to look at him. "Alicia said you called."

"See you dressed up for him," JD couldn't stop the words from coming out. He gestured. "New outfit?"

Casey's eyes sparked. "It wasn't a date, JD. He had an extra ticket to the concert, and he asked me if I wanted to go. There was a group of us."

"Concert?" JD repeated.

"Yes, JD, the concert!"

Oh. That concert. The newest hot country superstar. JD couldn't even remember his name. He wasn't a big country fan himself, but Casey had been so excited when it had been announced, and terribly disappointed when it had sold out the first day. JD had intended to get tickets, but Team Seven had been working on an important case and by the time JD had remembered, the only tickets left were way beyond his price range.

So he couldn't really blame Casey for grabbing a chance to go. On the other hand –

"You didn't tell me you were going."

Casey slammed the skillet she was holding down hard. "When could I have told you, JD? I called you! I texted you! I even went by the hospital. You weren't there."

JD felt himself flushing. She had been leaving him a lot of voice mails and texts recently, but he'd been so distracted by Buck's condition, and Vin being so wrapped up in that Monica person, Bobby Fewell constantly harping on the team, and then Ezra being kidnapped. He opened his mouth, meaning to apologize, to explain, but instead he heard himself saying, "You were still at the concert at four this morning?"

"It was in Colorado Springs, remember?" Casey snapped. "It started really late. The plane had engine trouble, or something, coming out of Oklahoma City. They didn't take the stage until almost midnight. We got out of there after three. I didn't want to drive all the way back so Steven said we could stay at his brother's place." Her eyes widened. "What, JD, do you think I slept with him?"

"Why wouldn't I think that?" JD fired back. "He's been trying to get into your pants since the first day he met you. And the two of you just happened to stay with his brother?"

Casey flushed an angry red. "It wasn't just me and him. There were three other people. Plus two of his brothers, and their wives. I slept on a couch. Alone. Damn it, JD, it wasn't a date. His oldest brother bought a whole block of seats for his employees. Somebody couldn't come and there was a couple of extra tickets. Steven knew you and I had wanted to go so he offered us the tickets. Us, JD. You and me. But you never answered me, so I went. I got maybe two hours of sleep, and then Josiah woke me up and told me what happened yesterday, and I got up and got in my car and drove back here, to find you! Because I thought you might need me." She snatched a gulp of air. "But do you know something, JD Dunne? If I had slept with Steven Nichols, it wouldn't have been any of your damn business! You don't have a collar on me, or a ring, either!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You're my girl, Casey!"

"Your girl? Really, JD? Well, maybe you'd better start acting like it. You don't even seem to know I exist, JD. I've called you, I've texted you, I've brought care packages where you are supposed to be, and you're never there! We haven't talked to each other in seventeen days."

JD felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. "You're… you're exaggerating."

Casey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She leaned back against the counter, her shoulders dropping, and shook her head. "No. I'm not." She laughed bitterly. "I've got the last text from you saved on my phone. Want to know what it said? 'Sorry. Busy. Talk later?' But there wasn't a later."

Somehow, the sad, defeated tone in her voice made JD even angrier. "So you decided to get back at me by going out dressed like that, with Steven Nichols? Grow up, Casey! You know what's been going on in my life lately, I haven't had time—"

"Time to even call? Text me, so I have some idea of what's going on? Because I don't know what's going on in your life, JD! How could I? You haven't told me anything!"

Her voice rang through the kitchen. JD didn't know what to say. He was afraid to say anything, afraid he'd just blow up at Casey and start screaming. He whirled around and down the hallway, wrenching open the front door and stumbling onto the deck. Cold clean air burned his lungs and he leaned over the railing, gripping it tightly.

He didn't know how long he stood there. Long enough for the sun to rise fully over the mountain, golden light flooding the area and swiftly chasing the chill of dawn away.

He heard the door open behind him. Casey came to stand next to him, handed him a mug of coffee.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Casey said quietly. She sat down on the porch swing. After a few sips of the hot brew, JD sighed and sat down next to her. He couldn't meet her eyes, just stared at the mug in his hands.

"JD," she started. "I know… God, I know things have been rough for you. The explosion, losing your home, Buck being so sick. Vin told Aunt Nettie someone poisoned him in the hospital. And then… Ezra being captured, and what happened yesterday." There was a long pause. JD knew she was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, she sighed. "If… if we're together, if I am your girlfriend… JD, we used to talk. You'd tell me everything. I could tell you anything. But now…"

"I can't talk to you, Casey. You wouldn't understand."

"Why would you say that? You could always talk to me before."

"That was when –" JD started, then he stopped, the words choked in his throat.

"When what?"

JD didn't know how to say it. Couldn't say Back when I knew who I was, when I thought I was part of a team, part of a family, that had my back no matter what. When I thought Buck was my best friend, when we didn't have secrets. When I didn't think everybody was lying to me…

Out loud he said, "Casey, how could you understand? I don't even understand myself what's going on."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me," she pleaded. "Maybe we can figure it out…together."

JD pulled away from her and leaned back in the swing, staring up at the porch roof. "I… I don't know what's true anymore. I've found… found out some things…at least, maybe…" he shook his head. "I always thought that Buck…that he told me everything, you know? That we were best friends, brothers. But now –"

"Now what? What's made you think he's not your best friend?"

"I found out that he lied to me. Chris too. That they lied to everyone. About how long they've known each other, about… about lots of things." He took a breath. "Josiah says not telling something is different than lying about it, but I don't see that. And it's like, I don't know who I can trust anymore."

He chanced a look at Casey. She was shaking her head. "JD… I agree with Josiah. People don't always tell their friends everything. I can't see why this is bothering you so much. Making you doubt everybody? I mean, really, is it any of your business?"

Anger flooded JD again. "Of course it is!" he snapped. He slammed down the coffee mug on the table next to the swing, ignoring the burn as the liquid splashed over him. "I knew you wouldn't understand! You're just a – a student."

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it. He didn't even know why he'd said it, except maybe he knew it would make her mad, and he wanted her to be angry, as angry as he was.

Instead, she just stared at him, eyes huge, bright red burning her cheeks. Then she jumped up and walked over to the railing. "I won't be a student in a couple weeks." Her voice was muffled.

JD frowned. That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. "What are you talking about?"

She turned around. "School's almost over, JD. I'm graduating in two weeks, remember?"

JD felt cold suddenly. Something about the way she was looking at him…

"I've had three job offers," Casey went on. She shook her head, smiling a little, but it wasn't a happy smile. "I've been trying to get ahold of you, so we could talk about them. But maybe it doesn't make any difference."

"I don't understand."

"I wanted to talk with you, because… well, because I thought it should be something we decided together. Because, here's the thing, JD. None of the job offers are here in Denver. I still haven't heard from back from everywhere I've applied, but right now it looks like I'm going to have to move away. And I thought we'd talk about that. Decide together. But now," she sighed. "But now, I'm thinking it doesn't matter where I go. Because… I don't know what's happened to us, JD. Whether it's you, or me, or both of us, or just the way things are. But right now –"

"Are you breaking up with me?" JD demanded.

Casey shook her head. "Not really. Not breaking up, because I think we already have. You don't seem to care about me, except as a… possession. Your girl. JD, I'm not a girl. I'm a woman. And I don't answer to anyone, but myself." Tears were running down her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily. "There isn't an us, anymore, JD. There's you. And there's me. And I guess, that's just the way it is."

There was silence between them.

Then Casey shook her head, leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Goodbye, JD." She turned around, went down the steps and got in her car.

JD stood up, took a step, but it was too late. Casey started her car and drove away.

to be contined…