Part 26

Saturday morning:

Chris sleepily blinked his eyes and looked around the room. His room.

"Shit!" Chris sat up fast, flinging the blanket back before memory caught up with him and he sagged back against the pillows in relief. He glanced at the bedside clock and groaned. After ten. He'd slept for fifteen hours straight. 'Never meant to be gone from the hospital this long,' he reprimanded himself. There was no denying, though, that he'd needed the rest and that he felt better for it. He vaguely remembered Vin driving him home in Ezra's Jag. Chris had stumbled into bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes. He'd slept deeply, without any dreams.

He rubbed his hand along his chin, feeling two day's worth of stubble. Definitely time for a shower and a shave.

Chris padded barefoot into the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower. He set about making coffee, and-feeling lightheaded from hunger-rummaged through the refrigerator for breakfast. There were eggs, cheese, some onions and a bell pepper. Just what was needed for an omelet. Chris pulled Sarah's omelet pan from the cupboard and put it on the stove. Then he carried the onion and pepper to the sink and put them on the chopping block. He reached for a knife.

And froze.

Pressing the knife more and more tightly against Buck's neck until the flesh parted and the blood trickled over the blade…

Chris pulled the knife free of the marble block. Funny how he knew exactly which one he'd used that day. Which one he'd used to cut his partner.

His friend.

The handle of the knife clenched in his hand, he walked to the back door, fumbled with the lock and the chain, then flung the door open. Cool, fresh morning air, heavy with the scent of approaching rain, rushed to greet him. He walked through the dew-soaked grass-not even noticing the cold on his bare feet-circled around the barn and up a shallow rise overlooking the pond.

He drew back his arm and flung the knife away from him with all of his strength.

He was on his way back to the house before the knife hit the water.

~+~+~+~

Vin stepped into the ICU room and stopped dead in surprise. With the exception of Buck-who appeared to be asleep-the room was empty. Not only were Ezra, JD and Nathan-all of whom were supposed to be here-missing, so was Ezra's bed.

"It's okay," Buck said faintly. Vin hadn't noticed his eyes open. "They took Ez down for some tests...and Nate and JD went to the cafeteria."

Vin let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Couldn't see Ez escapin' with his bed," he said, trying to cover up how concerned he'd been. He held up the vase of flowers the nurse had asked him to bring in. "Where do you want these?"

"Who...from?"

Vin pulled the card loose and handed it to him, then looked around for some place to put the flowers. There were already three other arrangements and a stuffed teddy bear holding a bright purple Mylar balloon in the room, and there wasn't any space to spare. Finally, Vin shrugged and put the vase next to the teddy bear on the floor. Then he dropped into the chair by Buck's bed. "So? Who are they from?"

Buck hadn't even opened the envelope. He handed it back to Vin. "Got a bad headache," he murmured. "Can you read it?"

'He really has to be hurting if he asks me to do it,' Vin thought. Although he had worked valiantly for years at overcoming his dyslexia, his teammates tried never to put him in situations that might embarrass him. It was never mentioned but very appreciated. Vin squinted at the flowing, feminine handwriting. "Get well soon, dinner's on me," he read. "Love, Lori." He frowned. "Who's Lori? Oh, that secretary on the fifth floor?"

"Nah, that's Marla." Buck pointed to the teddy bear. "That's from Marla. Lori is the...blonde...in Communications."

"I don't remember a blonde in Communications. There's that redhead-"

"Melinda. She sent the yellow roses."

Vin couldn't help it; he laughed. "That ol' animal maggotism at work again, huh, Bucklin?"

Buck smiled-no doubt remembering his efforts to explain his "animal magnetism" to JD-and his roommate's stubborn refusal to call it anything but "maggotism". The smile quickly faded and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"You're hurtin' pretty bad." It wasn't a question. "They give you anything?"

"Yeah. Just 'fore you came in...guess it hasn't kicked in yet." Buck breathed deeply and then winced. "Damn. Keep forgettin' the ribs."

Vin felt helpless. He got up and retrieved a washcloth, dampened it in cold water and returned to run it over Buck's sweaty face. "Thanks," the mustached agent murmured.

"No problem."

Buck opened his eyes with difficulty. "Vin...thanks for going with JD today. It's...gonna be rough on the kid...seein' the loft like that."

"Yeah, but there's nothin' broken that can't be fixed." Vin squeezed his shoulder. "Includin' you."

"Yeah." Buck shifted uneasily in the bed. "Humpty Dumpty, that's me." He made eye contact with Vin. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"In that...desk, in the living room. By the door?" Vin nodded, knowing the piece of furniture he was referring to. "The bottom file drawer-on the right. There's some files in there...insurance and the mortgage papers, bank stuff...important papers. Can you...bring them here?"

Vin frowned. "I'll get 'em, but why don't I just take them over to Chris' place? Or hold on to them myself? You don't need to be messin' around with all that right now."

"Gotta deal...with the insurance. Sooner the claim gets...settled, the sooner they can get started fixin' the mess."

"Okay," Vin conceded reluctantly.

"Something else..."

"Yeah?"

"The bottom of that drawer...false bottom." Sweat was beading on Buck's forehead and Vin took the washcloth and sponged it away. "Push down on the back corners. It comes up...there's a file there...accordion file..." his voice was strained.

"I'll bring it," Vin said quickly. "You just rest now."

Buck nodded, then tightened his grip on Vin's hand. "Don't tell...anyone 'bout it. Not JD. And...especially not Chris."

Chris saw Ezra's doctor as he was coming into the ICU. Dr. Howard closed the chart he was writing in and greeted Chris with the words "I think he's out of danger."

"You think?" Chris raised his eyebrows.

"Well, all the tests we've run have come back normal. And his heartbeat has stayed steady for eight hours now. But, since it was an experimental drug, I'm going to err on the side of caution. I've dismissed him from ICU but I want to keep him in the hospital at least one more night." He grinned. "He wasn't very pleased about that when I told him, but Agent Jackson assured me he would stay."

Chris rolled his eyes. "He'll stay," he confirmed. "He won't like it much, but he'll stay."

"Do I even want to know how you'll manage that?" the doctor kidded.

"Probably not."

7777777

Buck opened his eyes as Chris came into the room. "Hey, Pard," he greeted him. "You look better."

"Wish I could say the same about you." Chris sat down in the chair by the bed and studied his friend.

"Hell...Chris, you know it's plumb impossible for me to look bad."

"Really," Chris said sarcastically. "Heard you lost your bunkmate."

"Ez? Oh yeah. And did he rub it in." Buck managed a smile. "JD and Vin went to look at the loft-see what they could salvage of JD's stuff."

Chris hadn't gone by the apartment. He didn't want to see it-his imagination was bad enough. But he had read the reports. "JD's room didn't have much damage at all. Your room, though..."

Buck nodded. "I know." He sighed. "Guess I should count my blessings it wasn't worse. All my important papers were downstairs in the desk. But...I keep thinking about things...stuff that was upstairs. My mom's photo album. And her gold locket was in a box in the dresser. And all the pictures of..." he stopped.

Chris knew what he was thinking about. "All the pictures you had of Sarah and Adam," he said evenly. At one time, Buck had framed every photo of his godson; everything Adam had made him-from his crayoned scribbles to a candle made out of old newspaper and Fruit Loops-had been on proud display in Buck's home. Afterwards, though, the things had disappeared. It had been months, maybe years before Chris had wondered why. Then it dawned on him: Buck had done it for his sake-trying to protect him from the memories. When Chris had spent the night-and during the dark times there had been plenty of nights when Buck had scraped him up from whatever bar he was haunting and taken him home-he'd stayed in the smaller bedroom downstairs, the one that was now JD's room.

Now Chris gripped Buck's hand tightly. "You don't know what they'll find when they start cleaning the place up."

"I know." Buck stared at the ceiling. He wasn't making any effort to cover his feelings, which told Chris just how tired and depressed he was. He was in pain too; Chris could tell by the tight lines around his mouth and the shallow way he was breathing.

"Feel so bad for JD, y'know?" Buck said quietly. "I mean...it was his home. Mine, too." The last was barely a whisper.

Chris remembered when Buck had bought the place. "It's my first real home," he'd commented.

"It'll be home, again," Chris said firmly. "Besides, Buck...as long as I have a home, you have a home. Don't you know that?"

Dark blue eyes came up to focus on his. "Thanks, Pard," Buck said softly.

Chris cleared his throat and broke the gaze. "When you get out of here, we'll go through my pictures. Time I sorted through them anyway. Bet I've got copies of most of the ones you lost. Of Sarah and Adam, anyway, and our Navy days." He smiled. "I even have our old Academy pictures in a box in the spare room."

Buck snorted, then grabbed his ribcage. "Ow. God, Chris, I'm not sure I want to have copies of some of those. Remember that blue leisure suit I had? Ezra or JD ever see that picture, and they'll never let me hear the end of it." His voice was weakening. Chris squeezed his hand.

"You need to get some sleep. Need anything for the pain?"

Buck shook his head. "Not yet. It makes me so...groggy."

"You've been taking it, haven't you?" Sharpness edged Chris' words.

Buck sighed. "Yeah. When they give it to me. I just...don't like to ask for it more than I have to."

"Damn it, Buck..." Chris cut himself off. He wasn't going to argue with Buck about this-it wouldn't do any good. He'd just mention to the doctor that Buck probably wasn't the best informant as to his own pain threshold.

"You want some water?" he asked instead. Buck nodded. Chris stood up to get the cup and as he did, he saw again the fine white scar on Buck's throat. He took a deep breath. "Buck. Something I need to talk to you about."

Buck looked at him, worried. "What is it?"

Chris gently touched the small scar on Buck's neck with one finger. "This."

The closer they got to the loft apartment, the less sure JD was he really wanted to see it. But he didn't say anything-well, that wasn't exactly true-he'd been chattering nervously ever since they left the hospital parking lot in Vin's old Jeep. But as they exited the freeway and turned onto the street, he fell silent, unconsciously gripping his hands tightly together.

Vin glanced over at him. "We don't have to do this." His voice was understanding.

JD shook his head. "No. I do. I need to get some clothes and stuff and...and I need to see it. I need..."

Vin pulled the Jeep to the curb. "Look up."

JD hesitated, then looked out his window. He gasped, feeling a sick churning in his stomach at the sight of the huge, gaping hole right where Buck's bedroom should be, and at the sheets of plywood covering what used to be the living room windows. His eyes sought the smaller windows in his bedroom, noticing that only one of them was broken. Then his attention was drawn back to that gaping hole in the brick: mute evidence of the force of the blast.

"JD."

He didn't look at Vin. "What?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Vin turned him around so he could see his face. "You remember, no matter how bad it looks...it could have been so much worse. Nobody was killed, JD. Not the neighbors, not me. And not Buck."

"But he could-"

"He wasn't." Vin's voice was firm. "Buck's goin' to be okay, boy. It might take awhile, but he'll be good as new...and you will get your home back."

JD took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "You're right." He opened the door. "Let's do this."

Chris couldn't stay still; he had to move, to try to expel some of this fury building inside. "Why the hell didn't you ever tell me?" he demanded.

"Wasn't nothing to tell." Buck's voice was very quiet. "It was an accident."

"An accident!" Chris exploded. "Damn it Buck, I cut your throat with a fucking knife! How could that be an accident?"

"Chris...I don't know what all you remember..."

"I remember cutting your throat! What more should I remember?"

Buck sighed, shifted in the bed, and bit back a curse as every part of his throbbing body protested the movement. When he could talk again, he said, "You didn't know what you were doing." His fists clenched tightly as he fought the pain. "And you didn't really-"

The door flew open and Nathan stalked in. "Chris! I'm glad you're here. We've got a problem with Ezra. That stubborn southern know-it-all SOB is trying to discharge himself AMA, again!"

"That idiot!" Chris swore. He grinned his icy, feral grin. "Guess he didn't believe me when I told him what would happen if he tried that. Got your handcuffs, Nathan?" He started out the door, then whirled and looked back at Buck. "This isn't over, understand?"

Buck waited until the door had closed behind them both before he said aloud "No, Chris. It's not over. Hell, it'll never be over."

tbc...