Ezra Standish sipped at his scotch, watching as Vin Tanner, his right leg in a cast from the knee down, tossed back his shot glass of whiskey. The southerner knew the sharpshooter was drinking far more heavily than normal in a desperate attempt to erase or, at the very least, dull the memories of their last assignment.

It had been a covert operation. Retrieve the head of a terrorist organization and return him to the U.S. to stand trial. If that wasn't possible...take him out. Normally it would have been a job assigned to the SEALS, Rangers or other military or government agencies, but this time, it was imperative American officials had no ties to the clandestine operation.

For once, their intell had been right on the money and Larabee's plan had been carried out with relative ease, considering the circumstances. Had it only taken seventy two hours? Three days. Three long days spent attempting to remain unseen. Three days watching for the opportune moment to present itself.

When it had, they'd taken advantage of that opportunity. Overpowering the man's closest body guards, and using drugs to keep him unconscious, they'd reentered the country under the cover of darkness, Buck landing their unmarked plane on a little known airstrip in the Nevada desert.

Receiving an anonymous phone tip, members of the proper agencies, complete with warrants, had found the man they'd thought out of their reach, sleeping peacefully in a rundown apartment he'd rented when first coming to America under a student Visa. With his take down, the Elite Seven had added another success to their long list of achievements, a success few people except Judge Travis would ever know about. They should have been out celebrating, but instead…..

It was atrocities they'd seen committed in the name of righteousness during their three days of waiting to take the man down which the Texan was now struggling to wipe from his mind. It was futile. None of the team was likely to ever forget what they had witnessed.

Even Ezra was certain he would be attempting to drown himself in an alcoholic haze as well, if anyone else had been there to watch over the injured sharpshooter.

Of course, if the other team members had known they were seated in Inez's saloon, they most certainly would have been there, except for Chris Larabee who, at that moment was in Washington, unofficially briefing the powers that be on their mission.

They had been back two days and having broken his ankle on their retreat with their captive, Tanner had spent that time in the hospital under Nathan's watchful eye. As always, despite the Texan's protests, the cautious doctor had wanted to be certain the tracker didn't suffer any complications.

Earlier that afternoon, figuring it was easier than having Standish sneak the Texan out of the hospital, the physician, covering a shift for a friend, had released Vin into Ezra's care with strict orders. Orders that were currently being fragrantly ignored.

Ezra had weighed the options, finally opting that facing Jackson's anger for allowing the sharpshooter to substitute alcohol for the prescribed pain pills was worth giving his friend a few moments of normalcy had acquiencsed to the sharpshooter's request they stop for a drink.

"What'd ya think Chris is tellin' 'em?" Vin didn't look up.

"Officially?...Nothing." Ezra shrugged, taking another sip. "Unofficially, I hope he's describing in explicit detail everything that murdering sonuvabitch did."

"Fat lotta good it'll do since the bastard was on his own home turf." The long haired man sighed, swallowing several gulps of beer as if attempting to wash a bad taste from his mouth.

"I don't know about that, Mr. Tanner." Ezra forced a unfelt grin. "Media stories with details supplied by confidential sources seemed to have a great deal of influence, especially when those unnamed sources are admittedly governmental."

Vin shook his head, his voice ragged as he questioned, "Did you see JD's face?...The look in his eyes when..." His words trailed off in silence, then vehemently he added, . "Shouldn't a seen somethin' like that. He's too damn young."

Ezra sighed at the incongruity of that. Hell, Vin wasn't that much older than JD himself. "We're all too damn young, Mr. Tanner. In truth I don't know of anyone who's old enough to witness that kind of reality."

He was aware the normally chattering youngster of their small group had hardly spoken in the days since their return. Yet, Standish knew Buck would help their youngest member deal with the recurring nightmares, thereby helping himself.

Each of them, in their own way, would deal with what they had witnessed. Nathan would help at the hospital and clinic while Josiah would seek solace in prayer and the Good Book. Larabee, having sworn never again to fight his demons with alcohol, after a drunken bout which had nearly cost Tanner his life, would lose himself in hard physical labor around his ranch. Ezra would use the discipline of a lifetime, locking the memories away in the darkest corners of his mind. And Vin…. Well, Vin would cope in his own quiet way, just as he always did.

The gambler downed the last of his drink and raked a hand through his hair before reaching for his jacket. "I think it might be best if we get you home...or rather out to Mr. Larabee's before Nathan discovers our location and straps us both in a hospital bed."

"Wanna go to the cabin."

The words were spoken so quietly, for a moment, Ezra wasn't certain they'd been spoken at all. "I wanna go to my cabin, Ez... Just for a day or so. I-I gotta…" The Texan didn't finish, but Standish knew his reasoning.

Vin's quiet mountain cabin. It was his retreat, his haven where the ex-bounty hunter could cleanse his soul and find peace of mind. It was there Tanner reestablished balance in his life… And Ezra knew at the moment it was what his friend needed far more than any pain pills or alcohol. Vin needed that haven to find his inner peace.

"Well, then, the cabin it is." Ezra assisted Tanner to his feet, handing the younger man the crutches which had been leaning against a nearby empty chair. "I'll leave a message on Mr. Larabee's machine informing him of our destination. I'm certain Dr. Jackson will have no objections as long as you follow the rest of his orders and he'll be much happier knowing you aren't staying at that abomination you call an apartment."

*******

"Thanks, Ez." The slurred words were barely audible as the tracker dozed off in the back seat of his truck. The gambler had suggested using Vin's vehicle for the journey, certain the sharpshooter would be more comfortable if he were able to stretch out his injured leg.

"Anytime, Mr. Tanner." The southerner responded giving a quick glance over his shoulder at the Texan whose eyes had closed in restless sleep. "Anytime at all." He murmured as he pulled away from the curb, wondering how long it would be before the tracker truly rested easy again.

*******

A small frown of concern touched the gambler's lips, uncertain if it was a physical or mental pain that caused the grimace he saw on the dozing tracker's handsome face.

Stopping by the Texan's Purgatorio apartment, Standish had dashed inside, checking the sharpshooter's answering machine for any messages the Texan might think important and, while he was certain Vin had clothing at the cabin, he made sure to grab the man's favorite leather jacket. Nights at the cabin's higher altitude could get mighty cold.

The traffic had thinned, becoming almost non existant, as the green Ford pickup approached the gravel road turnoff which would take them up the mountain to Tanner's haven.

The hair at the nape of Ezra's neck stood on end, as he eased off the gas, preparing to make the turn. A battered silver tow truck with what appeared to be a rail road tie for a front bumper, pulled alongside, attempting to pass the Ford as the two vehicles approached the blind curve.

"Idiot." The gambler mumbled with disgust as the tow truck's passenger grinned, giving the southerner a wave.

"Sonuvabitch!" Ezra's grip tightened on the wheel as the tow truck suddenly veered right, slamming into the pickup's left quarter panel. Fighting the wheel as the vehicle fishtailed, Ezra swore again.

"What's goin' on?" Vin sleepily inquired as he struggled to sit up in the back seat.

"I suggest you find something to hold --- SHIT!" Pumping the brakes, Ezra fought to maintain control as the truck was rammed again, sending it into a 360 spin. It straightened slightly, then the scream of ripping metal filled the air as the green truck tore through the protective guard rail.

Time seemed to drag into slow motion and with amazing clarity, Ezra was aware of the combination of sounds: the crunch of tires on loose gravel, the nauseating screech of tortured metal, Vin's sickening groan of pain and the shattering tinkle of glass. The broken windshield sprayed glass in all directions as, rolling once on the slight incline, the truck plunged over the hill and continued to slide uncontrollably before coming to a sudden stop among the thick saplings and boulders which lined the slope.

*******

"V-Vin?" Pain racked his body as Ezra struggled to disentangle himself from the seat belt. Finally free of the life saving device, he twisted around to check on Tanner.

The unconscious sharpshooter lay crumpled motionless on the rear carpeted floorboards, his upper torso half hidden by the seats which had crumpled with the wreck and pinned him in the truck. It only took one look for Ezra to realize it would, most likely, take the jaws of life to free his friend.

Unaware of the blood trickling from the cuts gracing his own handsome features, unconcerned with the deep bloody gash on his forehead or the cracked ribs which stole his breath with each movement, Standish wiped the streaming blood from his eyes, his heart pounding wildly as he pushed at the door, needing to get out of the truck so he could help his friend.

The stubborn door suddenly gave way and the southerner tumbled from the vehicle. Ezra lay on the ground, panting as he tried to breath through the pain. He struggled against unconsciousness and fiercely concentrated on getting to his feet.

"Seems that big ol' truck's a little more machine than ya can handle."

Gripping the side of the wrecked vehicle, Ezra blinked in confusion as he attempted to focus his blurry vision on the strange voice's owner. With difficulty, the person registered.

The man at his side seemed almost as large as Josiah and appeared to be made of pure muscle. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and Ezra found himself staring in fascination at the three tear drops tattooed at the corner of the man's left eye. 

The gambler was certain the tattoo signified something in particular and was equally certain he should know what that something was, but at the moment, his mind could only focus on two things...his own pain and the fact Vin Tanner hadn't moved.

"M-my fr-friend..." The gambler lost his support, crying out in pain as the larger man suddenly shoved him roughly back to the ground.

Another voice spoke, snickering. "Don't look like he's goin' nowhere any time soon."

As his lungs finally found desperately needed oxygen, the world slowed its crazy whirl and the face of a second man swam into his fuzzy vision. A man with uncombed bright red hair and so many freckles his face appeared to be polka dotted...Vaguely it registered on Ezra it was the tow truck's passenger.

"Business so bad, y'all gotta drum up customers?" Ezra couldn't stifle the groan as he once more struggled to sit up, determined to help Vin.

The red head chuckled. "That's purty good. He's kinda funny, ain't he, Slate?"

The one called Slate swore and shook his head in disgust. "Get him on his feet and let's get the hell outta here before someone happens along."

The red headed jerked his chin towards the green truck's interior. "What about that other fella?"

"Leave him. We's only told ta bring Tanner. Let's deliver 'im and get paid."

The words settled on Ezra like a smothering blanket. Vin. They wanted Vin.

As they moved forward the red head reached out to grab the southerner's jacket lapels, and Ezra, finding energy to fight, kicked out, slamming his heel against Slate's thigh and driving his fist into the redhead's jaw.

Staggering to his feet as they fell backward, stunned he had the strength to fight back, Ezra drove his head into the middle of the red head's chest, knocking the man to the ground. Falling on top of the man, he continued to pummel the freckled face.

Pain suddenly exploded in his head and darkness descended as Slate slammed the butt of his revolver against the southerner's skull. Ezra collapsed beside the gasping redhead as Slate shook his head in disgust. If it were up to him, he would just shoot the trouble making bastard right here, but he knew they'd not get paid that way. Bending, he hefted the unconscious southerner onto his shoulder and with his free hand, jerked the redhead to his feet. Still swearing and muttering under his breath, he moved to the tow truck, the red head stumbling along behind him.

*******

Slamming the door of the locker he used when working at the hospital, Nathan wearily tossed the blood stained scrubs into the laundry bin. Damn, he was tired, but at least he hadn't had time to think about the acts he witnessed before they'd captured Momar.

He'd call Larabee and check on Tanner when he got home. Hopefully he could catch a couple of hours sleep before Rayne got off duty. He knew Ezra might gloss over the facts of the sharpshooter's condition as long as it wasn't likely to endanger the Texan's health, but Chris should have been home for several hours and the Hoosier would present a clearer picture of the Texan's present situation.

Rayne burst through the door of the lounge as the physician was reaching for the knob. "Nathan, thank God I found you before you left! You better come quick!" Before he could question her, the nurse had his arm in a death grip, dragging him down the hallway to the emergency room.

"Shit!" The healer's eyes widened, his heart plunging to the floor as she shoved him into a room where the trauma team was working on a bloody battered unconscious patient . "Vin!" He rushed on into the room, calling out to anyone to answer, " What the hell happened?"

"They said it was a bad car accident," one of the residents supplied, quickly adding, "They had to cut him outta the wreck..." He skimmed over his notes, running down the list of injuries the paramedics had reported to him.

"This is Mr. Tanner's personal physician." Rayne announced as Jackson automatically kicked into to medical mode, asking questions and issuing orders. As the med team scurried to respond, he turned to the nurse, "Rayne, you know what to do. Make the calls and get back here quick."

*******

Tossing his keys on the kitchen counter, Larabee pulled two cold beers from the refrigerator handing one to Josiah.

Other than thanking the ex-priest for meeting him at the airport and apologizing for the long wait because the flight had been delayed, their drive to Chris' ranch had been made in relative silence.

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower. If ya wanna stick around we-" Reaching for the answering machine, the words faded as Chris pulled the noisy pager from his jacket pocket, resisting the temptation to toss the insistent devise across the room.

He glanced at the LCD screen his eyes widening as he read the words H*Blue*N. Blue for Vin. The H code for the hospital and N indicating Nathan was the caller.

"Vin must be giving Nathan a helluva a hard time." Chris growled, wondering why the men couldn't seem to handle some things by themselves.

"Probably caught Ezra tryin' ta sneak him outta the hospital. Wants Papa Larabee to doll out some serious spankin's." Chris gave him a wide smile at the Papa but it faded as Josiah's pager made a frantic beeping. The big man pulled it from his belt reading the same messge.

Suddenly realizing the physician wouldn't be using the code, Standish had established, for something trivial, Chris grabbed his keys and both men dashed for the door.

*******

Following the sound of the muffled voices, their words indistinguishable, Ezra slowly climbed from the painless oblivion of unconsciousness.

The voices stopped when he couldn't prevent the barely audible groan when agony flooded through him as the gambler forced his eyes open.

Attempting to ascertain where he was and what was happening, the southerner tried to focus his fuzzy vision, suddenly to take in his surroundings.

He was lying on his side in the corner of what appeared to be no more than a dilapidated storage shed. His ankles were tied with thick rope and his hands were tightly bound behind his back with what he could only image, by the feel, to be plastic cable ties.

His befuddled brain struggled to bring forth the memories of the events which had landed him in this hapless prediciment. He realized he'd attracted attention when he heard movement nearby.

"Well, well, well, pretty boy finally decided ta wake up." A man with red hair stooped down beside him. "Course the ladies probably wouldn't find ya too purty right now."

As memory flooded back on him, the southerner recognized the man as the one who had waved at him just before the tow truck had run him off the road. He also remembered the pleasure derived as his fist connected with the freckled face.

Ezra was gratified to see the swollen lip and bruising around one eye. It was nice to have evidence that he'd gotten in a few good licks of his own and he'd be satisfied if the sonuvabitch was feeling a fourth of the pain the gambler felt at the moment.

"I could be dead ten years and still attract more women than you." The cardsharp jeered. "Of course almost any corpse would be able to say the same thing, you walking advertisement for abortion."

In his current position, Ezra couldn't avoid the blow as the man drove his fist into the gambler's jaw.

"Don't know what a piece of shit like you did ta piss off someone so powerful, Tanner, but I'm willin' ta bet it was that sorry assed smart mouth a yours."

The words overrode the pain as it dawned on Ezra what the man had said. Tanner! They thought he was Vin!

"There are times when intelligence does appear to have its drawbacks." Ezra mumbled trying not to choke on the blood filling his mouth. "Of course you wouldn't know anything about that."

The redhead flushed at the insult and he drew back to deliver another blow.

"Leave him be!" The large man ordered from where he sat on an overturned crate. "Boss wants him breathin'...At least for the moment."

The red head stood and kicked out instead, his work boot catching Ezra in the abdomen and driving the breath from his lungs. Smiling as the helpless man writhed in pain, he finally crossed the few feet to where his partner sat.

As the memory of Vin's motionless body trapped in the wrecked vehicle filled his mind's eye, a single tear escaped. Knowing he could do nothing, he surrendered slowly back into the blackness of unconsciousness.

*******

Wilmington glanced up as the two men rushed through the emergency room doors, steeling himself for the onslaught of questions. Questions to which he didn't have answers.

"Buck?" Chris' hard gaze drilled into him, as with one word, he asked everything. How? Where? Why? What?

"I don't know Pard. All we know is he's in surgery." As they hurried down the corridor, the womanizer bypassed the admissions desk, heading for the elevators. "JD's up in the waiting room...Figured I'd save the nurses the exta hassle and just meet ya down here."

As the elevator door closed behind him, Larabee demanded. "Complication with his leg or what?"

"Honest Chris...I told ya everything I know. Last I heard Nate was gonna let Vin outta here this afternoon. Ya know I'd wouldn't keep anything from ya." The pilot sighed. "We'll just have to wait and see what Nathan has to say."

As the bell chimed its destination, the doors slid open and his team mates stepped from the elevator, Dunne gave a curt shake of his head and continued his pacing.

"How's the kid doin'?" Larabee kept his voice low barely nodding toward their youngest as he followed Wilmington to the coffee maker and accepted the cup Buck poured.

"Take some time but he'll be okay...Got him ta talk 'bout it a bit last night." Wilmington raked a hand through his hair. He'd been looking forward to some down time but now had to wonder if it wouldn't be better for everyone if they received another assignment immediately. Something new to focus on to help shake the memories.

Josiah looked around the room, his gaze passing over the three other people waiting on news of their loved ones. "Where's Ezra?"

"Ain't got here yet." JD answered as he paused in his pacing. "Maybe we should page him again."

"Don't think that's necessary. He'll be here as soon as he can." The ex-priest laid a hand on the smaller man's shoulder gently steering him to a nearby chair. "Have a seat son. I don't know how we'd get the judge to agree to pay for new carpetin' cause you walked a thread bare path in this one."

Yet the carpet received even more wear and tear as it was just over two hours later, when Nathan finally stepped through the doors, wearily swiping the scrub cap from his head and finding himself surrounded by his team mates.

"Gonna be awhile but if there's no complications he'll be fine." He was quick to reassure them. "They're takin' him to ICU shortly."

"What happened?" Chris demanded. "I thought ya said his leg was gonna be okay."

"At least the cast kept it from...His leg?" The words trailed off as the physician stared at them in confusion. "The surgery wasn't because of his leg...Didn't Ezra tell ya..." His dark eyes suddenly darted from man to man realizing the southerner wasn't among the waiting team members. "Where's Ezra?"

"He hasn't answered the page yet?" Josiah admitted, running a hand through his short hair.

Pushing past the others Jackson crossed to the hospital employee who manned the waiting room desk, delivering news of patients and offering comfort to those who waited for relatives.

"Mavis, check the records and see if a Ezra Standish was admitted at the same time as Vin Tanner."

"What's goin' on Nathan?" Wilmington pressed, his own impatience matching Larabee's.

"I don't know. I released Vin this afternoon. Ezra was supposed ta take him out to your place Chris." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I was about to head home when they brought Vin in. Paramedics said it was a car accident."

"Sorry Dr. Jackson but no one was admitted by that name." The older woman stated, turning the computer monitor so that he could confirm the information himself.

A surge of anger followed the relief that flowed through the doctor replacing the guilt he momentarily felt. Worried about Tanner he hadn't given a second thought to the fact the gambler, having left with Vin, might have been injured as well.

"Where the hell is that little bastard. I'm gonna wring that scrawny southerner neck a his!"

"Somebody better start explainin' something!" Larabee ordered glaring at each of the men. "And I mean now!"

Sinking into the closest chair, Nathan nodded his thanks when JD handed him a cup of coffee. "All I can tell ya is the paramedics brought him in this evenin'. Said it was a car accident...What the hell was he doin' drivin'!" He muttered more to himself than to have his question answered as he followed the sip of coffee with a calming breath. Pushing to his feet, he motioned them to follow, leading them down the all to familiar hallway towards ICU. "Now don't get all spazzed at seeing Vin. It looked a lot worse than it turned out to be. Cuts and bruises. Had some internal bleeding. Surgery corrected that."

Larabee sucked in a breath, at his first sight of Tanner. Trying to take small comfort in Nathan's assurances he watched through the glass wall as the nurses finished connecting the monitors and IVs to his unmoving friend, hanging a plastic bag of medicine on the pole beside a matching bag full of life giving blood.

"Like I said, he looks a lot worse than he is." Nathan repeated firmly. "The concussion worries me the most."

They'd all heard Nathan's lectures on the danger presented by head injuries and knew it could be hours or days before Vin woke up. As the nurses exited, the five men settled in for the long haul, none of them willing to leave until they were truly certain of the Texan's condition.

*******

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Ezra wasn't surprised to find his captors weren't standing guard.

Of course they could be outside but injured and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey there was little chance of his escaping the windowless building.

That didn't stop him from thinking of escape, searching his mind for a plan. A couple of times they'd given him water and one of them had provided him with a blanket against the cold.

For the moment, they obviously wanted him alive...Correction...they wanted Tanner alive.

*******

Larabee's anger continued to build as the night passed. Anger that one of his team once more lay fighting for his life. Not because of an assignment. Not because of an enemy but because of a stupid accident.

Nathan's question continued to plague him. Why had Tanner been attempting to drive? It made no sense that the man just released from the hospital with a cast on his leg would climb behind the wheel. Where had he been going? What had been so important that he'd found driving in his condition a necessary risk?

Chris' anger took on a new focus, that of a certain green eyed southern con man. Nathan had said he had released Vin into Ezra's care so why hadn't the con man taken the Texan out to the ranch as he said he would?

They all knew there was no stopping Tanner when he got it into his head to do something. The team leader knew from experience, hiding his truck keys would be of no use, he'd simply hotwire the vehicle. Sitting on him would only make him play opossum for hours, until the opportunity to slip away arose. They knew when dealing with Vin, your best bet was to just go along and do what you could to help.

It was the same thing the team had discovered about Ezra, but it did nothing to answer the question of what had the gambler thought more important than watching over an injured team mate?

Larabee was well aware, in many ways, Ezra was different from the other men, Larabee had recruited for his elite team.

In the beginning, Chris hadn't been certain he was doing the right thing in bringing the gambler, or anyone who worked the shady side of the street, aboard but Tanner had recommended the man and helped everyone accept the con man. .

The con man had been raised to look after himself...to always take care of number one...first and foremost. His eyes always on the prize he had spent his life doing or saying whatever he found necessary to achieve his current goal.

Chris snorted in derision. A leopard couldn't change his spots so why had they thought they could work a miracle, yet it seemed Ezra had changed.

The seven men had become a formidable team, working and playing together, standing together against enemies and forming a unique family. This job had brought changes in all their lives but Larabee believed the biggest change had been in the con man.

He was certain, like Vin, Ezra had learned he no longer had to depend only on himself. There were now six other people he could always rely on when needed and Ezra had proven time and again, he was a man worthy of their trust...A man they could depend on to watch their backs. Or so Chris had thought.

Now it appeared Standish had found something more important than an injured friend to occupy his time. He'd obviously left Tanner to his own devices and hadn't even bothered to answer his pager, perhaps unwilling to face the dire consequences of that selfish decision.

His temper continuing to build, Larabee refused to listen to the inner voice that quietly persisted in telling him he was missing something. Something important.

*******

Ezra squinted his eyes shut against the bright sunlight as the door was suddenly flung open and heavy boots steps crossed to where he lay.

"Time to get up purty boy." The red head grinned. Pulling the gambler to his feet he dragged the bound man across the small space shoving Ezra down onto the crate Slate had earlier been using for a chair. "Boss finally showed up."

Standish forced his head up, for a moment, staring owlishly at the woman who had followed the large man, Slate, into the shed.

As his vision focused, Ezra realized she looked vaguely familiar to him. Of course in his present line of work as under cover agent for the most elite law enforcement team in the country, the southern con man met a lot of different people.

Remembering he was supposed to be Tanner, he dropped his chin to his chest once more. He was a dead man either at the hands of the people who wanted Vin or at the hands of Larabee himself for allowing the sharpshooter to be injured...if Vin had survived the wreck and had been found...and if Ezra, himself, survived but he might as well keep up the pretense as long as possible.

"You two get out! I wish to have a few words in private with..." The words trailed off as resembling a military commander she closed the distance between them. "You imbecilic morons! This isn't Tanner!"

"What the hell you talkin' about?" Slate huffed in ill concealed disgust.

"This is not Vin Tanner!" She ranted, pointing at the southerner. "What part of that sentence didn't you understand?"

"Probably all of it." Ezra mumbled. "They don't seem too intelligent."

"He was drivin' Tanner's truck, just like you said. We even followed him from that bar where ya told us he hangs out back to that rat trap apartment a his in Purgatorio."

"And does he at all resemble the photograph I provided?" The woman questioned irritably, angrily tapping the toe of her expensive boot on the dirty floor.

"What picture?" Slate turned to the red head who shuffled his feet uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "What picture Ray?"

"I lost it. It's someplace at home but..." Ray angrily cuffed the back of Ezra's head almost unseating the southerner. "Stupid sonuvabitch! Why didn't ya tell us ya weren't Tanner?"

"You never bothered to inquire as to my moniker." The con man muttered, earning another hard blow to his already bruised jaw.

"Damnit! I paid for Tanner and I expect to get my money's worth." The woman sneered, her tone deadly. "I suggest you jackasses retrieve the merchandise for which you were paid, especially if you wish to see the other half of your money."

"Shouldn't be no problem...the other guy in the truck musta been Tanner." Ray stammered, seeing the anger radiating from the other two people. "What do ya want us ta do with this guy?"

The woman waved a hand dismissively as she moved for the door. "I could care less! That's not my problem..." She hesitated as Slate pulled his revolver clicking off the safety. "Wait."

Prepared to die, expecting to feel the bullet shattering his skull and burying itself in his brain, Ezra hoped she didn't expect him to beg. If so she was going to be sorely disappointed.

Returning to stand in front of him, the woman wrapped a perfectly manicured hand in his hair, jerking his head up and back, staring at him with an intensity that could start a fire in dry brush. "I know you." She hissed, searching her memory.

Recognizing who it was that sought Tanner, Ezra steeled his emotions and attempted to nod. "I believe we were introduced once Miss Gaines...at...at a f-fund raiser you were hosting."

"What were doing with Tanner?" She demanded, painfully jerking his hair. "How do you know him?"

"I don't. I was merely giving the gentleman a lift. He was drinking at a bar in town where I was doing business and didn't seem fit to drive." Standish quickly fabricated. "I do believe I've learned a rather tramatic lesson in helping strangers."

She studied him intently, searching for the lie before a sly smile lifted the corners of her perfectly painted lips. "You're the fuckin' seventh man."

He kept his expression bland. "Excuse me?"

"The seventh member of Chris' team. I wasn't sure the report was true but you were the one driving Tanner and that bitch the day everything went to hell."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken. I don't believe I've ever been acquainted with a woman named Chris, let alone belonged to a team. I work alone, having long ago discovered that relying on others is most often a grievous error."

"Oh you're good." Ella sneered. "Damn good...But I'm better." Releasing her hold the vengeful woman turned to the two kidnappers. "Keep him alive for the moment. He may come in handy. I do suggest you put him some place a bit more secure. Somewhere he won't be easily found." She moved to the door again, tossing over her shoulder. "Bring me that bastard Tanner and I'll double your pay."

*******

Listening to the comforting steady beep of Vin's heart monitor, Chris chewed at his lower lip, his worried gaze on the unmoving figure in the bed.

The palpable tension filling the room was overwhelming as the men's worry for Vin mingled with their growing anger at Standish.

Larabee glanced up as Josiah paced in front of the door, knowing even angry, the ex-priest's concern was not only for Vin but for Ezra as well. He was well aware, the big man had taken the opportunity of getting coffee to place calls to the gambler. Calls that had gone unanswered.

"I can't believe the bastard hasn't even bothered to check on Vin." Nathan grumbled bitterly, having left word with the hospital switchboard to immediately report any calls inquiring about Tanner's condition. "I actually believed that southern sonuvabitch gave a damn about us."

"That's just it, Nate" Buck sighed straightening from where he'd been slouched beside the window. "He does give a damn."

"Then why ain't he here?" JD questioned, sounding for all the world like a six year old who'd just found out Santa hadn't brought the toy he truly desired. "Why didn't he answer his page."

"I don't know kid." Wilmington admitted, ruffling the kid's tangled hair. "I was pretty pissed off when I first heard what happened but the truth is we really don't know what happened."

Wilmington turned his attention to Larabee. "I been thinkin' about it Chris...Somethin' just ain't right...Ya know that time JD was blown up in the van and in the hospital?"

Chris nodded, wondering what his oldest friend was driving at.

"Ezra was undercover...but as soon as he heard about it, he snuck in here to check on the kid. Except for Maude, I reckon we're about as close to a real family as Ezra's got and there's times when him and Vin there are as alike as two peas in a pod..."

Damnit! Leave it to ol' good hearted Buck to give someone the benefit of doubt. It was a trait the womanizer shared in common with the the tracker and gambler. JD was still young and innocent enough to automatically see the good in everyone, just as Josiah always searched for the good in them. Nathan, like himself, was just skeptical enough to follow his first impressions, wanting a person to prove themselves.

Chris knew at the core of it, Wilmington was right.

"Been thinkin' the same thing myself." Larabee agreed, realizing Buck had just given voice to the thoughts that had been nagging him most of the day. He had tried to ignore it, hoping the little voice would go away and let him hand onto his anger. He needed the anger.

Anger was better than fear.

He hated the fear. Fear that he was about to lose someone who'd become closer than a brother. Fear that loss would not only destroy himself but the team as well.

He'd tried to tell himself that the loss of the man lying in the hospital bed wouldn't destroy the con man. He'd tried to convince himself that if Ezra really did give a damn about the sharpshooter and their friendship he'd be here.

Hell for that matter, he wouldn't have let Vin be hurt in the first place.

No matter how he looked at it and tried to skew it, that argument had failed to fly.

Time and again, Ezra had proven how much he cared about the men he considered family. He'd laid his life on the line for each of them but it was the Texan he had opened up to. It was Tanner the gentle gambler had first let past his protective walls.

As he looked around the room at his team, Larabee suspected the others were holding onto their anger for the exact same reasons.

Anger outweighed fear.

Certain if they had something to occupy their time, they'd be more likely to calm down and listen to the gambler's explanation when he did show up and it had better be a damn good explanation, Chris made a quick decision.

"All of us sittin' here isn't accomplishin' a damn thing but makin' our asses numb. Buck, you and JD pick up the accident report and check out the site. See what you can find out about what happened. Josiah, I'd appreciate it if you'd run out to the ranch and grab me a change a clothes."

"Call us if there's any change." Buck ordered steering his roommate out the door.

"Like I wouldn't? Josiah, wait a minute." Pulling open the drawer of the bedside table, Chris snagged the zip bag holding Tanner's belongings and removed a small metal object from Vin's wallet. "Ya might need this."

*******

Watching as Wilmington's truck pulled from the parking lot, Josiah wearily settled behind the wheel of his Yukon. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket he hit the speed dial and punched in the code for the tenth time since arriving at the hospital.

Hitting another number on the speed dial, he listened to the incessant ringing. The ex-priest glanced from the third floor of the hospital where Larabee still sat at Tanner's bedside to the object Chris had handed him.

A key to Ezra's apartment.

The big man smiled sadly remembering how proud Vin had been that Ezra had entrusted him with the key. Taking that trust seriously, the Texan had copied the key and placed the original on his keyring. The copy he kept in his wallet so he would always have it if needed. Josiah sighed, hoping that deep trust Vin shared with his southern friend hadn't been misplaced.

Josiah turned the Yukon in the direction of the penthouse.

*******

His own truck parked well off the road and out of harm's way, Buck stood staring at the skid marks in the middle of the road, trying to discern what had caused the accident which had currently landed his friend in a hospital bed.

He intently studied both directions of the now nearly deserted highway. Just around the next curve was the turnoff leading up the mountain to Tanner's cabin so it seemed the statistic that most accidents happened a few miles from home was correct.

The marks on the asphalt and in the graveled shoulder clearly indicated a spin yet it seemed to him, if another car had come around the curve on his side of the yellow line, Vin would simply have swerved off the road and gone straight through the guard rail to avoid a head on collision.

Perhaps a blown tire or mechanical malfunction had been the reason? That was a possibility but Wilmington didn't think so. Tanner kept the battered old truck in magnificent shape mechanically.

He stared at the marks on the road a moment longer before hopping over the guard rail and cautiously making his way down the incline to where JD stood staring at the scars left on the trees by Vin's vehicle.

When the young man gave no indication of his approach, Buck nudged him, nodding toward the police report printout the young man held. "Ya gonna tell me what that says or is it classified information?"

Earlier, giving Wilmington, the location of the accident, the computer expert had said nothing other than an occasional grunt in answer to his questions.

Buck made a playful swipe at the printout. "I've got security clearance ya know." He teased hoping to make the kid smile.

Dunne shrugged, his dark gaze studiously searching the disturbed area. "It's pretty standard. A woman driving by spotted the truck and called the cops." He frowned. "Strange thing is, the cop," he glanced at the report, "Officer Peterson, he was the first one on the scene, he says Vin was in the backseat."

"Well kid, I can tell ya from experience, ya can get tossed around pretty good in a wreck, especially if it rolls." Buck stated, wondering what was disturbing JD. "Knew a fella once...Him and his wife was haulin' logs. The load shifted and come loose...When that truck stopped rollin' Ol' Lyle was in the passenger seat and his wife was upside down in the driver's seat. What are you lookin' at?" He demanded sharply as JD gave no indication of hearing his words.

"It's what I'm lookin' for." JD held up a hand for silence. "There it is again!...Hear it?...Sounds like a pager...You know just the occasional beeping when you haven't checked a message."

Buck listened intently and in the quiet heard the sound too. Moving to his left Buck squatted on his heels and ran his fingers through the tall grass clumps, rocks and dirt disrupted by the emergency crews and the effort to pull Tanner's truck back up onto the road.

JD watched as locating and dislodging the small black device, Buck brushed away the clinging dirt and debris.

Fumbling nervously with it, surprised the pager had escaped damage in all the activity, Buck pressed the button illuminating the screen.

H*Blue*N

"Aww hell!" Buck groaned raking his empty hand through his hair.

JD moved closer, reading the tiny screen. "Why in the world would Nathan page Vin about his own wreck?" He questioned, his expression one of bewilderment.

Buck's expression fell as he shook his head. "He wouldn't."

*******

"Aww shit Slate, damn truck's gone!" Ray craned his neck trying to see past the driver, frantically searching the landscape as they approached the twisted metal of the guard rail. "What the hell are we gonna do? That bitch is gonna kill us!"

"First we're gonna stop actin' like we're lookin' for somethin' before those two fellas get suspicious." The driver ordered harshly. Checking traffic before slowing the truck to a crawl, he eased up beside the two men and rolled down his window. "You fellas havin' trouble with your truck?"

Receiving a wave of assurance and a 'we're fine thanks Slate sped on and drove on.

"That was stupid fuckin' thing to do." Ray jeered.

"No that was the smart thing to do." The big man disagreed. "We're drivin' a freakin' tow truck dumbass!...How do ya think it would a looked if they were havin' car trouble and we'd just drove right on by huh?...And did ya really think the damn truck would still be there? Tanner still in it just waitin' on us ta come back and give him a ride?"

"Didn't you?" Ray challenged, not wanting to admit aloud that was exactly what he had thought.

"Course not, ya idiot. Aint' much traffic on this road but figured somebody was bound ta see it and report it by now but had ta be sure."

"So what'da we do now?" Ray pouted. "Without Tanner we can't even get the rest of our money, let alone double it."

"I'm gettin' a real bad feelin' 'bout this." Slate mused. "Don't care what you do but I'm settlin' for what I got and gettin' the hell outta this mess. There's somethin' 'bout that woman that just ain't right. She wants Tanner that bad, let her find some other suckers ta do her dirty work...Hell let her get him her ownself."

Knowing there was no arguing with Slate when the man had made up his mind, Ray wordlessly settled back in the seat to consider his options.

*******

"Damnit JD listen to me!" Buck grabbed the younger man's arm stopping his head long rush to the truck.

He'd watched the blood drain from Dunne's face as the electronics wizard realized the meaning of the small device Buck had clutched in his hand. Repeatedly shaking his head in soundless denial JD'd backed away before turning and stumbling up the incline.

The kid jerked away from Buck's grasp and pointed a shaking finger at the small black square. "That's Ezra's pager isn't it Buck? It's Ezra's! Vin wasn't driving...Ezra was! Ezra was with him wasn't he?"

"We don't know anything yet Kid. Ezra could simply have forgotten it when he picked Vin up at the hos-"

"No!" Dunne shook his head stubbornly. "I remember...Nathan said he picked him up in the Camero and Vin was grousing about there not being any leg room cause a the cast." JD glared fiercely at his room mate. "There's only reason why Ezra's pager would be in Vin's truck and we both know it!"

Buck couldn't and wouldn't lie to Dunne by denying he had reached the same conclusion. Seeing the anger and fear which had replaced the depression the youngster had embraced since their last mission. Even as he welcomed that change he saw it replaced by the guilt filtering into the kid's dark eyes.

"What do you want me to listen to Buck?" Dunne half cried. "If Ezra knew Vin was hurt he wouldn't stay away. You said it yourself! Undercover he still snuck inta the hospital to check on me. He wouldn't just leave Vin! So ya wanna tell me how we've all been so pissed off, we didn't-"

"I also said we don't know what happened yet." Wilmington gripped the smaller man's shoulder. "I know ya feel guilty for bein' pissed off instead of worryin' about Ezra but deal with it! Build a bridge and get over it! You're human! Just like the rest of us damnit! We can't turn off our emotions like flippin' a light switch...Not even Ezra...All he does his hide what he's feelin' till he can get a handle on it. We all reacted naturally to what we knew about the situation and that's somethin' we'll each just have to deal with. You understand what I'm tellin' ya JD?"

Wilmington waited, silently watching the myriad of emotions as Dunne struggled with the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. As if realizing that letting those feelings take control wouldn't help anyone, the kid took a deep shuddering breath. Brushing the hair from his eyes and nervously adjusting his hat he finally gave a short curt nod and met Wilmington's gaze steadily.

"Guess we oughta get back to the hospital and give Chris a report huh?"

"Hopefully, we'll find that smart mouthed little sonuvabitch sendin' Chris' blood pressure through the roof." Buck grinned.

As they once more moved for the red truck, he waved a reassurance, calling out, "We're fine, thanks," to the tow truck driver who had slowed to check on them.

*******

"How's he doin'?" Buck questioned, seeing Lucy seated beside Tanner's bed, the sharpshooter's hand clutched in hers. He wasn't surprised to find the vet at the side of the man she loved but stifled his smile at wishing he'd been there to witness her giving Larabee hell for not calling her sooner.

"Nathan says his vital signs are good but he still hasn't shown any sign of waking up yet." Worry filled the words and her pretty face.

"Heck, Lucy, that just proves he's been spendin' too much time hangin' with Ezra." The womanizer teased giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah but I thought the point was for Vin's habits were supposed ta rub off on Ez, not the other way around." The woman forced a smile which did nothing to wipe the worry from her eyes.

"Guess we shoulda told the two of them that huh? Come on Chris, let me and JD buy ya a fresh cup a coffee." He motioned towards hall, letting his old friend, seated on the other side of the bed, know they needed to talk. "Can we get ya something Lucy?"

"No thanks." She shook her head, her fearful gaze remaining on the tracker's face as they slipped out the door.

*******

"What'd ya find out?" Chris questioned as they approached Nathan and JD who were standing by the coffee maker at the nurse's station. He quickly scanned the police report Dunne handed him. "This doesn't show a cause."

"I guess we'll have ta wait for Vin ta tell us what happened. Wreck happened just around the bend from the cut off to his cabin." Wilmington sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "There's somethin' else Chris..."

JD shuffled his feet, staring at the floor as Buck pulled the small black device from his pocket handing it to their boss. "We found this at the site...."

Larabee stood motionless, staring in despair at the small familiar object.

"It's beginnin' ta look like Ezra might have been the one drivin'." Wilmington finished, certain it was an unnecessary statement.

"Ain't no doubt about it." Josiah, coming down the hall, joined the conversation as he sat the overnight bag on the floor and accepted the coffee Nathan offered. "Ya can tell me off later Chris for invadin' your privacy but I checked your machine while I was at your place...Ezra left ya a message sayin' they were spending the weekend at Vin's cabin."

He went on to report that there had been no sign, Ezra had returned to his penthouse. Neither Harry nor Henry had seen the gambler and Nettie was still watching Scoundrel.

'So where the hell is he?' Fighting the sudden feeling of desolation, Larabee shoved the pager in his pocket, raking a hand through his short hair. 'Think damnit!'

He grabbed the report back from JD and searched the printout for anything that would indicate someone other than Vin had been in the vehicle. "They found Vin in the back seat...So it looks like Ezra was driving and we all know how adamant he is about wearing a seat belt so...." He turned to the doctor. "Nathan. Following that line, what kind of injuries would Ezra have suffered in an accident like this one?"

"I wouldn't begin to-"

Larabee cut him short. "Take a guess damnit!"

"Take a guess?" The doctor stared at his boss as if the man had just asked him to dance naked in the streets. "Take a guess?" He repeated in astonishment. "Give me a break Chris! I'm a doctor not a fortune teller. It could be anything from broken bones to a minor bump on the head to major internal injuries..." He threw his hands up in frustration. "Hell he might not have been hurt at all."

"That's called taking a guess Nate," Josiah winked, hoping to ease the tension.

JD remained serious. "If he had internal injuries then he wouldn't have been able to even get out of the truck would he?"

Jackson shrugged. "Depends...Slow internal seepage could take days to kill him."

"Real fuckin' subtle Nate." Buck sniped seeing the youngest of the group pale.

"Alright! We'll work under the assumption that Ezra's injuries, if any at all, were minor." Larabee jumped in before a full blown argument could ensue. "Logically, he would have gotten out, checked on Vin and climbed back up to the road for help."

"Than maybe someone gave him a ride." Dunne suggested.

Both Chris and Buck shook their heads, but it was Larabee who gave their denial voice. "He wouldn't have left Vin." That was one thing they knew for a fact. "Ezra wouldn't have left any of us if we were hurt."

"Then let's assume he had some sort of head injury...He might have been confused and disoriented just enough not to realize what was happening." Nathan rubbed wearily at the back of his neck. "Hell, he might not even have known his own name and could have just wandered off in a daze."

"So how do we find him Chris?" Buck got right to the heart of the matter. "It's not like we can broadcast his picture on the six o'clock news as a missing person." Although at the moment that's exactly what he wanted to do. It was what they all wanted to do but given the southerner's unique abilities for undercover work, it was impossible to flaunt his face to the public. That very action would place him in more danger than he possibly faced at the moment.

"Josiah go talk to the witness...the lady who found the wreck." Larabee shoved the accident report at the ex-FBI agent. "JD get on the computer and look for any activity within the last twenty four hours on Ezra's credit cards, then start calling other hospitals, clinics even private physicians...Find out if any of them admitted or treated a patient fitting Ezra's description. Nathan see if you can get some of the staff here going through the hospital records for the same reason. You and I are gonna search this hospital bed by bed if we have to. I wanna make sure they didn't admit him under an alias."

"What about me?" Wilmington questioned as the others hurried off.

"Before we left to get Mo-...left on our last assignment," Chris amended not wanting to even utter the vile man's name. "Ezra said Nica was in Virginia on some construction job. She should still be there. Get a hold of her and get her back here as quick as you can."

"Damn Hoss, ya really think that's such a good idea? We could be upsetting her for no good reason."

"Get her back here Buck...I don't care how ya do it...Pull whatever strings it takes...I don't give a damn if you have to steal a Tomcat and fly her back yourself but I want her back here A.S.A.P!" Larabee shouted, slamming his cup down on the counter, squishing the foam container and splashing coffee in all directions. "Shit!" He scrambled to sop up the spreading liquid.

"This isn't your fault Chris." Buck offered comfort, passing the Hoosier a towel as the blond frantically wiped at the spilled liquid.

"Then just who's fuckin' fault is it Buck? Ezra's been missing for at least a day and I didn't even know it!" He tossed the towel in a nearby laundry bin. "He was missing but shit no I wasn't worried...I was too damn busy bein' pissed. The only thing I wanted was to kick his ass for..." Chris drew in a ragged breath and calmed down slightly. "He's a member of my team and my friend and I wasn't worried about him at all. Every instinct, every nerve in my body was screaming something was wrong but I ignored it. He's been missing over twenty four hours....So tell me Buck, who am I supposed to blame?"

Wilmington knew Chris had been especially angry because it was Vin he thought had suffered due to the gambler's thoughtlessness. Buck wouldn't deny he'd been jealous of the close relationship Larbaree had developed with Tanner. A relationship they used to share. Yet he was also grateful to the Texan. Something in Vin had set to flame the last spark of interest in life buried deep inside Larabee. Welcoming him as a friend, Wilmington had stepped aside, making room for the sharpshooter. Chris still needed Buck and the pilot would always be there for him. This was one of those times.

Buck stared his oldest friend in the eye. "I'm gonna tell you like I told JD, and I'm gettin' real tired of givin' this speech..." 'Especially to myself.' his inner voice added. "You're human...We were all pissed off...We were all reacting to the situation and now we need to react to this one. At the moment we don't have time to wallow in self pity or lay blame. We need to do what we do best so we can find him and bring him home. That means you need to think with your head and not your heart." Wilmington toned down, giving his old friend a devilish wink. "Later if ya wanna spend a night drinking yourself into oblivion...I'll happily join ya."

Larabee stared at the womanizer a moment, the tension visably draining from him. "You can be such an ass." He growled, than softly, sincerely added. "Thanks."

"Anytime Pard." The pilot held his hands up as if to stave off an argument. "Ain't questionin' your orders but are you really sure you want me ta get Nica back here right now...I mean...it might be easier on her if we wait until we know something definite."

"I'm sure." Larabee nodded. "Look Buck, I can't explain it but we need Nica here...She may be our best chance of finding Ezra." He refused to add she might be their only hope as a feeling of dread washed over him, stronger than any he had felt and ignored in the last twenty four hours. Something was indeed very wrong and he couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling it was all because of him.

*******

Crumpled in a half seated position, Ezra repeatedly fought against his return to consciousness certain the blackness held his only relief from his pain. Finally realizing the futility, he struggled to open his eyes. His inner voice giggled with the pain. 'Might as well find out where I am and start working on a solution to extricate myself from this abhorrent situation.' The very thought sounded silly even to him as he finally opened his eyes.

His heart began pounding in his ears, and he fought the panic threatening to overwhelm him as he tried to pierce the absolute blackness surrounding him. He knew he was awake.. 'Wasn't he?' .He hurt too badly to still be unconscious, and even as he tried to focus his eyes, he could see nothing... 'Blind?!' Was he blind?

He didn't think so.... but.....

He could clearly smell the dank earthiness of the dirt around him and feel the numbing cold wetness of the water which covered his legs and soaked through his shirt.

'Think, damnit... What do you remember?'

He searched his memory and could clearly recall the men Roy and Slate in a tow truck running him and Vin off the road with the intention of delivering Vin to Ella Gaines... Only they'd failed...He took joy in that remembrance. They'd mistaken him for the sharpshooter. He remembered the woman's cold voice and hard eyes as she recalled him... and recognized him as Chris' seventh man. He remembered her order to keep him alive.....

Slate and Roy had agreed to that, but after she left, they'd dragged him outside to a small clearing behind the shed, where Roy had worked to remove a thin sheet of metal, only to reveal a deep hole in the ground. It had registered on Ezra it was an old water well.

He remembered struggling, kicking out with his bound feet as they lifted him. He could still hear Roy's laughter echoing in his ears as they'd dropped him into the darkness and the helpless sensation of falling when they released their hold.

The cold began to leech into his body and Ezra cried out as agonizing pain shot up his leg when he tried to shift positions . With that agony came the memory of hearing the sickening sound of his leg bone snapping when he'd landed at the bottom of his dirt walled prison.

Gasping for air, trying to bring the pain under some sort of control, Ezra attempted to turn his thoughts to Vin. Had anyone found the injured tracker? Was he safe and being cared for or was Lucy Garth going to be a widow again before she ever became a bride? It was his last coherent thought before he slid back into unconsciousness.

*******

'Ezra wake up!...Ezra!'

"Nooo...." The southerner moaned plaintively, trying to ignore the insistent voice which stubbornly persisted in calling him back to consciousness and pain. "Hrts...."

'I know it does Pard and I'm real sorry but ya need ta wake up." The tone became hard edged when Ezra remained motionless. 'Open your damn eyes Ezra!...Wake up!'

The cardsharp flinched as if struck. Surrendering to the angry voice he lifted his heavy eyelids and blinked several times staring owlishly at the hazy figure which seemed to be stooped before him

"V-Vin?...." Ezra couldn't prevent the tears of disappointment that gathered at the corners of his emerald eyes. "Th-they got you....t-too?..."

The shaggy head shook. 'No Ez, they didn't get me."

"S-sorry...so...s-sorry."

'Ya got nothin' ta be sorry for Pard...so stop worryin' 'bout me and-"

"You all right?" Wishing he could wipe his eyes, Standish squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, hoping to clear the salty moisture and bring the tracker into better focus.

'I'm okay Ez. Nate says I'll be fine. They're-"

"Tell Dr. Jackson if he knows what's good for him, he'll t-take better care of you than I did."

'Ya took real good care a me Ez.' Tanner gave him a sad smile. 'It's you everybody's worried 'bout now. They're lookin' for ya. They ain't gonna give up till they find ya Ezra....'

The cardsharp was certain the sharpshooter was simply trying to allay his fears.

He had no doubt, the other members of Larabee's team would search for him....eventually...if only to wring his neck in payment for Tanner's injuries.

The inner fears, he kept buried deep in the darkest recesses of his mind, that the men he so admired and considered his family didn't feel the same way towards him but were merely running a con of their own because they needed his special skills surfaced. Those insecurities always arose when Ezra found himself in trouble.

Having spent most of his life alone, he could never quite shake the fear they wouldn't care enough to put themselves out on his behalf.

Vin snapped his fingers in front of Ezra's face. 'Come on Pard, stay with me now. Ya gotta stay awake.'

"No reason..." Ezra mumbled.

'Ya probably got a concussion Ez. Ya need ta stay awake....So c'mon, talk to me,'

Ezra couldn't prevent a small chuckle, gasping at the pain caused by the small action.

"Mr. Tanner do you not realize you are nothing more than a mere figment of my over wrought imagination. Continuing any form of conversation with you would mean I'm simply talking to myself."

'Hell, Pard, that's never bothered ya before.' Tanner teased, giving him a lopsided grin. 'Come on Ez, humor me....Tell me about some of the places ya been...'

*******

Releasing a tiny portion of his frustration by shaking the remaining rain drops from his jacket, Chris resisted the temptation to slam the door of the hospital office Nathan had arranged for them to use. "Anything?"

"He's holding his own but still isn't showing any sign of coming around." Nathan commented, watching over JD's shoulder as the young man's fingers danced over the keyboard of his laptop computer.

"I was talking about Ezra." Larabee snarled. He knew what was happening with Tanner.

Why did they automatically assume Vin was his main concern?

Have you given them any reason not to think that? His inner voice chided.

His first stop upon returning to the hospital had been at the tracker's room. Lucy had tried to offer encouragement, pretending she wasn't anxious about the Texan's condition but she hadn't been able to hide the worry in her dark eyes.

Chris knew Buck understood the closeness, the trust and connection he shared with Tanner. His oldest friend, the man who had stood beside him, watched his back and had never given up on him understood the immediate friendship that had sparked between the Hoosier and the Texan. He seemed to sense they filled in a need in each other that had long been missing.

Buck also understood the closeness shared with Tanner in no way minimized his feelings for the other members of his team...his family. Larabee would never choose Tanner's life over one of the theirs simply because of that closeness. Wilmington knew that! Did the others?...Did Ezra?

"His credit cards haven't been used and so far I ain't talked ta anyone who's had a patient fittin' his physical description." Dunne responded without looking up, intent on dialing the next number on his list, pulling Chris from his introspection.

"I've checked every nurse's station in the hospital and went through the admission records for the last thirty six hours...same results." Nathan knew by Chris' expression, the Hoosier hadn't had any better luck than they had.

Explaining the situation to Mark Johnson, Larabee had met the police captain at the accident site and had joined the volunteer officers Mark had assembled. They had carefully searched the surrounding area for any sign of the missing gambler. They had looked for any indication the southerner, if disoriented, might have wandered deeper into the woods rather than making his way back toward the road.

They'd found nothing, only giving up when the rain had all but obliterated any sign Ezra might have left in his wake. Frustrated and feeling helpless, Larabee had returned to the hospital, hoping his men might have had better luck.

"Where's Josiah and Buck?" He questioned sharply, realizing he hadn't heard from them.

"Josiah called to say he was on his way back to talk to that witness, she wasn't there the first time he stopped by so he went over and talked to the cop who filed the report." Nathan offered when JD remained focused on the person on the other end of the phone line. "Ain't heard from Buck."

Chris scowled, raking a hand through his damp hair. "Sonuvabitch!"

"Watch your language Hoss, there's a lady present." The womanizer chuckled from the doorway before stepping aside to allow Dionica Ryan entrance into the small office.

Larabee glanced at his watch, quickly calculated the time and couldn't help wondering if he was going to have to explain to Judge Travis why Wilmington was being charged with stealing a naval jet.

"You said to do whatever I had to." The womanizer shrugged nonchalantly then as if reading his old friend's mind he grinned and added, "Got a friend with connections. Him and his boss pulled some strings and got Nica aboard a cargo flight comin' into the air base."

"Chris?" Nica stepped closer to the team leader and laying her hand on his arm, looked up at him her enormous eyes filled with terror.

Remembering the presence of the other men a second before he responded, Larabee gently took her arm and led her back out into the hall way. "Let's go get some coffee."

*******

"What's really going on Chris?" Nica set the coffee cup he handed her on the table and turned to face him head on as he took the seat beside her. He had chosen the empty corner of the small private waiting room, wanting to talk to her without interruption. "A very nice Navy lawyer shows up on the job site, in Georgetown, sayin' ya need me back here immediately and that they were holding a flight for me. All I could get out of Buck was that Vin was in a wreck and no one's sure where Ezra is?...Is that right?...Chris....You don't know where Ezra is?"

When he didn't immediately answer, she locked her hands in her lap, attempting to control the trembling. Steeling herself she met his worry filled eyes and asked the question whose affirmative answer she feared more than anything in the world. "Is he dead?"

"No!" Chris raked a hand through his hair. He shook his head and huffed out a breath. "I don't know." He admitted. "We think Ezra was driving Vin's truck but they only found Vin at the wreck site..."

As much as he wanted to comfort the petite woman Larabee left nothing out, explaining everything they knew and what they were doing to find their missing seventh man.

"…Nica, we need your help...I was hopin' you'd be able ta...ta...I don't know...sense something....see something...whatever it is..." he trailed off at her expression.

"You were hoping I'd had a premonition." Her heart sank at his small nod. "I'm sorry, Chris," she whispered, adding, "I wish I had."

As a child, Nica's visions of future events, seeing bits and pieces, things which didn't seem connected or didn't make sense to a little girl, had been a regular occurrence. Afraid of the very thing which made her different, Dionica had eventually learned to ignore or suppress the insights until they'd stopped completely... Stopped, that is, until a few weeks before she met Ezra Standish.

"This...gift..." A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "That's what Ezra calls it... It's not something I can control, Chris. I can't turn it on and off whenever it's convenient or when I need to know something. Most of the time my premonitions take the form of dreams."

"You can try, damnit!" Larabee swore, then sucked in a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Nica...I---"

"Of course I'll try!" Nica retorted sharply. She chewed her lip, ashamed of the outburst. She loved Ezra. He had become the center of her world, but she knew he was just as important to Chris and the other team members. He was a part of their family now and she understood Larabee was just as frightened as she was.

It was almost funny, she thought absentmindedly, but most of her life, the successful young business woman had hated her gift. Hated it with a passion for she had learned at an early age most people were both frightened and curious about her talent. They either were repulsed by her, thinking she was some sort of evil freak or else they wanted her to tell them their future like she was some gypsy fortune teller at a carnival side show.

She didn't want the ability for she knew herself no one should know the future.

Yet, unlike those other people who shunned her or tried to use her for her unique ability, Ezra Standish hadn't feared or ridiculed her. When he had learned her secret, he had, in fact, been supportive and understanding, accepting her premonitions as simply a part of the young woman he loved with all his heart. He didn't question her, but simply listened when she needed to talk, offering advice and urging her to do what was best for her.

Since those first terrifying visions she had experienced of Tanner's death ---the very visions which had brought her and Ezra together--- the premonitions had changed. They began focusing on the gambler and his friends... She hadn't really considered them forewarnings, more feelings and emotions. Hazy out of focus photographic mental visions .

Dr. Michaels, the expert who was helping her understand her unique ability, was of the opinion she was once more trying to suppress her talent, not willing to see harm come to or the death of the man she loved...or any of his friends. The doctor had more than once pointed out it was the very gift she was trying to reject which had, in fact, saved Vin and Ezra's life.

It was the argument the doctor had used in hopes of convincing her to work with him in an effort to strengthen her talent. But she hadn't accepted immediately. She trusted her own judgment when it came to her dreams and she was leery of letting some doctor get inside her head.

But a few days earlier, lying alone in a hotel bed in Virginia, her thoughts with the southerner on his mission in some far off country, she had finally made a decision she prayed she wouldn't regret. If she could learn to control the visions, give them focus and decipher the visions correctly, she could hopefully help the man she loved...and perhaps in some way keep him and his friends from harm.

At the sound of a weary sigh beside her, she brought her attention back to the present. "There's a reason they call it a premonition, Chris...This with Ezra has already happened. I'm not certain if I can-"

Chris nodded understanding, adding, "I've been thinking about that..."

*******

Gently cradling the pager Chris had pressed into her folded hands, Nica closed her eyes and taking a deep breath tried to clear her mind of everything except the man who owned her heart.

Moments earlier, Larabee's tone had held an underlying tone of desperation as he had described his theory.

"According to what Ezra said, that professor he talked to thought your...gift....had re-emerged because of your contact with Candless. You weren't protecting yourself against premonitions of people you didn't know...so you were more open... That day in your office, the visions came after you sat in the same chair Candless had...." He had pulled the small black pager from his pocket. "This is Ezra's...They found it at the accident site... Maybe you can pick up on something from holding it, the same way you did back then with Candless."

Remembering that awful afternoon and the terrifying images which had overwhelmed her, Nica hadn't been able to suppress her violent shudder and she was surprised how quickly Chris had moved to wrap his arms around her in comfort and understanding.

"I know how hard this is..." Chris murmured. He, too, remembered her previous reaction to the violent images which had flooded her mind. "And believe me when I say I will totally understand if you don't want to do this..."

She didn't. She didn't want to see the death of the man she loved. The very thought of his loss ripped her heart to shreds and left a gaping hole in her soul. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help herself. If there was one chance in hell she could help Ezra, she would sell her soul to the devil himself....

Nica concentrated on the twinkling green eyes which always looked at her with such love and the dimples that appeared with each beautiful smile which graced the gambler's handsome face.

*******

Clenching and unclenching his hands, Larabee sat silently watching the beautiful young woman who'd brought so much happiness into the life of his undercover agent. As her breathing quickened and a shiver raced through her, he stopped himself from reaching out. As he watched, she paled and her calm composure gave way to an expression of panic, a tear rolling down her cheek.

His heart pounding, praying he wasn't putting her through this agony for nothing, Chris had decided to end the mental torture when her trembling stopped and an almost peaceful expression came to her lovely face. He wasn't sure which frightened him more, the panic or the calm. Could it mean she had seen and accepted the unthinkable?

His concern deepened, "Nica?"

She finally blinked as if the light hurt her eyes, momentarily staring at him in confusion.

"You all right?...Nica?"

She nodded wordlessly.

His throat dry, he forced out his question, "W-W-What did you see?"

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "Nothing. Darkness..." She shivered again at the thought of the all encompassing blackness which had seemed to surround and smother her. "I know he's alive...I could feel...his anger..."

"We all know Ezra ain't goin' down without a fight and he'd be highly pissed that something had caught him off guard." Chris grinned as a sense of relief washed over him. "He likes to be prepared for anything."

"He's with Vin." The remark seemed to catch Nica as much by surprise as it did Larabee.

"Nica... Now, don't get me wrong... Ezra has an amazing talent for blending into his surroundings, but that's a fairly small room Vin's in and I'm pretty sure one of us would have noticed Ez being in there too."

"Don't ask me to explain it, Chris... I told you I could feel him...his...panic...pain...worry..." She left out the other feelings she had experienced--- lonliness and fear--- struggling to explain something she herself only barely understood. "I ..." she fumbled to find the right word to explain, "sensed a change in him... It was suddenly like...I don't know..." Peace? Contentment? Friendship? "It was the same feelings I pick up on when he's just sitting around, sharing a beer with Vin...I-"

"Chris?" Standing in the doorway, Buck was quick to apologize when, engrossed in their conversation, Larabee and Dionica both jumped at the intrusion. "Sorry ta interrupt, but thought ya'd wanna know Josiah's back."

*******

"Vin, can you hear me?"

Larabee held his breath silently watching as Lucy gently stroked the sharpshooter's long hair with her free hand.

Before he'd had a chance to question Josiah on what the profiler had learned, one of the floor nurses had rushed into the office, announcing Chris was wanted in Tanner's room, sending Nica and the five men scurrying down the hall.

"Vin? Come on, baby, open those beautiful blue eyes." The vet seemed oblivious of her audience as, with a barely audible groan, Tanner's head turned slightly in the direction of her voice, his long fingers slowly curling around her hand.

"Hi, handsome." The young woman smiled in relief as the Texan's eyelids fluttered and opened. He blinked several times, trying to focus on the people surrounding his bed.

Chris quickly moved to spoon some ice chips into the tracker's mouth as Vin licked at dry lips. "Hey, Pard. How ya feelin'?"

"Sore." Tanner rasped out finally.

"Better be watchin' yer step, kid. Nathan's beginnin' ta think ya like this place." Buck teased. "Lets ya outta here only ta have ya catch a ride back with the paramedics a few hours later."

"Wasn't my idea." With a lopsided grin, the tracker's eyes closed as the medication being fed into his veins worked its magic.

Suddenly, Lucy gave a startled cry and Chris grabbed the Texan's shoulders in an attempt to hold him still when Vin's eyes flew open again. His grip tightening around Lucy's hand; the injured man tried to sit up, his expression one of desperation as his wide eyes frantically searched the room.

With everyone intent on reassuring the frightened sharpshooter, only Nathan seemed aware of the hospital staff rushing into the room as the rapid beeping of the heart monitor mixed with the alarms of the other medical equipment .

"Ezra!" Tanner gasped, his blue eyes filling with fear as he raked his gaze over his friends. "Ez...Ez... Don't....

"Easy, Vin... Just relax," Larabee urged as the tracker's struggles weakened. "Ezra's gonna be okay... He's gonna be fine." Injecting a mild sedative into the tracker's IV, Nathan looked up as shocked as the others when Chris fervantly added. "Ya got my word."

"H..help...'im." The words were slurred as the sedative kicked in. Tanner's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out in sleep.

*******

"Is he alright Nate?" JD chewed at his lip as everyone but Lucy backed away from the bed.

"Physically he should be fine. Between his injuries and the sedative I just gave him he'll probably sleep straight through till mornin'." The physician tossed his boss a side long glare.

"You got somethin' ta say ta me Nate?"

"You're damn right I do!" Nathan flared. "I can't believe you would do something so fucking stupid!"

"Brother-"

Nathan shook off the large hand the preacher laid on his shoulder. "How the hell could you promise him that Ezra was okay...

"I wasn't speaking for the rest of you. I made the promise and I'll-"

"In case you've forgotten...We don't even have a damn clue where the hell he is!"

"We're gonna find him!" Anger and frustration radiated from the blond but mindful of their surroundings he kept his voice low. "You can bet your medical license we'll find him!

"Damnit Chris, you didn't just promise to find him...Ya gave him your word Ezra was gonna be fine." Nathan raked a hand through his hair. "How the hell's Vin ever gonna trust ya again if ya can't keep that promise? Hell for all we know Ezra's already dead!"

"He's not dead." All eyes turned to the petite construction worker. The firm statement had been spoken with an assurance that belied the woman's pale complexion.

"Ya know Nate I think when we get Ez home, the first thing I'm gonna suggest is that he gives you some lessons in tact." Buck slipped an arm around Nica, giving her a teasing wink as the others shuffled uncomfortably uncertain what to say.

"I'm sorry Nica. I wanna believe that too but-"

"He's not dead Nathan." She repeated adding softly. "Not yet anyway."

"We're gonna find him! We're gonna find him and do everything in our power to see that he's okay. I'm the one that will have to face Vin and I'm the one that'll have to deal with the consequences if I can't keep my word but we're not giving up! I'm not givin' up..." Larabee stated adamantly. "Not this time."

After witnessing what he had thought was Ezra's death, the team leader had tried to drown his sorrow...and his guilt...in alcohol ignoring Vin's own certainty the gambler was alive. By the grace of God, the southerner had been found only to damn near be lost again, to the memories of the horrors he'd suffered.

This time Chris wouldn't stop looking until he had tangible proof Standish was dead and the only proof he would accept was seeing Ezra's body laid out in the casket before it was lowered into the ground.

"Then we'd best get started makin' sure Chris keeps that promise." Wilmington grinned, steering Dionica to the chair, deliberately stepping between Larabee and Jackson. "Did ya find out anything helpful Josiah?"

"Unfortunately everything Mrs. Conners had to say was in the accident report." The preacher sighed. "She was driving back from visiting a friend and slowed when she saw the guard rail. She used her cell phone to call the police but didn't go near the truck at all."

"She didn't see Ezra or notice anyone walking along the road?" Dunne questioned hoping for a positive answer.

"No..." Josiah shook his head. "She did say she was surprised the tow truck hadn't called it in already."

"What?" Buck's head jerked up, his full attention now on the preacher. "What'd she say about a tow truck? What'd it look like?"

"I didn't ask. It passed her just before she reached the accident site. She thought it was strange the driver hadn't called the police or stuck around to collect the fee for the job. Said she was sure he had to have seen the truck since she did."

"Buck?" Chris turned his attention to his old friend recognizing there was more to the pilot's reaction than just curiosity.

"When JD and I were out there, a tow truck stopped to see if we needed help." Buck paced the small area. "I don't have Ez's mathmatical abilities but what do ya think the odds are of a tow truck on that road in that spot twice in two days? I mean it's not like that's a major thoroughfare."

"What was the name on the truck?" Chris pressed.

"I-I..." The pilot shook his head searching his memory. Dealing with JD, Wilmington had barely paid any attention to the vehicle, merely assuring the driver they weren't in need of his services.

"JD?"

"I wasn't paying any attention Chris."

Nica reached out grabbing Wilmington's hand. "Think about the truck Buck...Just close your eyes and concentrate on the truck."

Receiving a nod from Larabee at his questioning look, Wilmington took a deep breath and did as she asked.

He pictured himself standing at the side of the road, turning as the vehicle slowed, the driver calling out to see if they needed assistance. He raked his gaze over the silver truck, seeing the railroad tie that acted as a front bumper and the drawing on the door.

"Road Runner Towing."

"JD-"

"I'm on it." The computer expert was out the door before Larabee could voice his request.

"Chris, let's go see Vin's truck."

Larabee hesitated. He understood why Nica was making the request but suddenly found himself fearing the results.

"Chris?"

He nodded, squeezing the hand that gripped his. "Buck, call Mark and have him meet us at the impound yard. Ask him to bring a fingerprint team...Josiah, get a hold of the judge. Get us some John Doe warrants...Search and arrest...Nathan-"

"I'll have everything ready." The physician's simple statement assured Larabee that despite their disagreement he would do whatever necessary to help.

"Chris," Lucy stopped the Hoosier before he could follow the others from the room. "He'll understand Chris...It may take some time but Vin will understand if...." She swiped at the tears filling her eyes. "You'll always have his trust. Just bring Ezra home."

Larabee pulled her into a grateful hug, dropping a soft kiss on her cheek. "Thank you."

"Godspeed." She whispered as he hurried away.

*******

With a shake of his head, Chris stopped the police captain's protest that Nica shouldn't touch anything as the young woman slowing climbed into the driver's seat of Vin's now mangled pickup.

His eyes on Nica, Larabee was barely aware of Mark's order to the ranking officer of the fingerprint team that he wanted the results of the run through on his desk yesterday, as the slim black policeman started to add his protest of Nica's contamination of any possible evidence.

Ignoring the officer, sending a small smile and a nod in Larabee's direction, she took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the steering wheel.

"What is she doin'?" Mark demanded to know.

"Lookin' for Ezra." Intent on Nica, Chris quietly answered his friend's question without thinking.

Concentrating to block out any distractions, Dionica focused her thoughts on Ezra and Vin. Her heart racing, her breath caught in her throat as images and emotions washed over her...a silver truck...railroad ties...a freckled face with wild red hair...fear...guardrails...trees...intense panic...worry...blood red tear drops...

"For Christ's sake Chris...A freakin' psychic?" He'd had his fill of phony would-be fortune tellers working on the Carson kidnapping case when the man who'd come forward, volunteering information from supposed visions had turned out to be part of the crime.

Ignoring his friend, Larabee suddenly rushed forward as the petite construction worker began to tremble uncontrollably, tears escaping from her beneath closed eyelids and rolling down her cheeks. Gently forcing her to release her hold on the steering wheel, Chris slid his arms around her and lifted Nica from the vehicle carrying her to his own truck and situating her in the passenger seat.

"Is she okay?" Unprepared for her reaction, Mark trailed after him, his expression one of concern as he fumbled for his cell phone. "Maybe I should call an ambulance."

"I-I'm f-fine." Nica assured both men, swallowing convulsively, concentrating on calming her frayed nerves. She caught Chris' hand. "Buck was right...about that tow truck...It wasn't an accident!"

"Even I could predict something visible evidence supports." His skepticism returning, Mark scoffed rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Buck had called shortly after they'd arrived at the impound yard. Road Runner Towing was a one man, one truck operation. The owner, Ray Billings, had done time in the neighboring county jail for passing bad paper and selling stolen goods. He'd also done a small prison stretch for grand theft auto but seemed to have kept his nose clean for the last couple of years.

Following Buck's suspicions, the forensic team had discovered flecks of silver paint and slivers of treated wood in the smashed metal of the front quarter panel.

Larabee had made certain no one over heard his orders to Wilmington.

Right now Chris' concern was for the young woman in his truck. "What else Nica?...What else did you see?"

"A red haired man with enough freckles for three people...tears," She frowned, "Some sort of...a tattoo I think..."

"Excuse us a moment." Taking Larabee's upper arm in a death grip, the police captain pulled his old friend out of the woman's hearing.

"Are you outta your mind?" He hissed. "I know you'll do anything to find Ezra, Chris, but are you this damn desperate already? You know as well as I do ninety nine point nine percent of these people are nothing more than charlatans and con artists, telling you anything you want to hear while they clean out your bank account. At least give us a chance to do our job."

For the first time in days, Larabee actually felt like laughing. He realized Nica had been out of town the few times Mark and his wife had been able to attend the gatherings at Chris' ranch. The officer had never met the love of Ezra's life.

"Hell, Mark, we've never paid her a dime. Believe me, she's no charlatan or con man...woman...person," He waved his hand dismissing the politically correct term. "I know her...We all do. Trust me when I tell you her...gift...," A small smile touched his lips, "is very real and extremely reliable. It's also not common knowledge so I would appreciate it if this conversation remained between the two of us."

"The others think you're nuts too huh?"

"I'm sure there's times when they're certain of it." Chris chuckled. "Unless I can talk her into going home I'm gonna drop her at the hospital and go meet the others. Call me as soon as you have anything."

As the officer nodded, Chris climbed into the driver's seat and headed the big truck towards the hospital, Nica sitting silently beside him.

*******

Leaning casually against the wall beside the front door, JD was waiting on the porch when Chris pulled to the curb in front of the weather worn little gray house, forty five minutes later.

Chris knew the hacker was acting as look out while Josiah and Buck searched Billings home but to the casual observer the youth appeared to merely be waiting for a friend or perhaps had just stepped outside to catch a breath of fresh air.

"Watch that second step," Dunne warned as Larabee crossed the muddy yard. "Josiah damn near fell through it."

"They find anything?" Chris questioned as avoiding the step altogether, he joined the young man.

"Hell, it would take a search and rescue team a week to find anything in this dump." Josiah groused as he stepped out the door, removing the latex gloves he wore. "Place makes Buck and JD's look like they employ a full time maid."

"I heard that!" Wilmington slapped the big man's shoulder. "I'll have you know, we finished spring cleaning just last week. We come across a shotgun and a couple of hunting rifles in the closet, a thirty eight under the couch cushions and a forty five in the kitchen...Here not at our place." He clarified. "Wanna bet none of 'em's registered?"

"Well accordin' to the old man who lives across the street, Billings ain't been here for a couple of days." Hoping to glean any information available, JD had carried the man's grocery bags when thinking the youth was knocking on the door, the older gentleman had called out to him. "Says he can't wait till the landlord finally kicks the bastard out. Said Billings reminds him of a reject from a clown factory."

"That sounds like an Ezra insult." Josiah chuckled, although the laughter didn't reach his eyes.

"Okay, so he's not here and evidently hasn't been here...What do we know about his friends? If he even has any." Chris asked, his gaze raking over the neighborhood wondering how much attention the four of them were attracting.

"I'll get the file." Dunne dashed through the rain to Wilmington's truck.

"Did you find out anything?" Wilmington knew, like himself, Chris was afraid they were wasting precious time on a wild goose chase. Precious time he was beginning to believe Ezra didn't have.

"Hopefully, we'll know in a minute." Checking the LCD screen, Larabee flipped open the ringing cell phone. "Talk to me Mark."

*******

Slamming his palm against the steering wheel, Larabee wanted to scream in frustration. Another dead end!

Chris understood all to well, the anger frustration and despair that clung to the ex-priest, like a second skin.

While Josiah had come to think of the six men he worked with as family, Ezra, the black sheep, had found a special place in the man's giant heart. Larabee had watched their relationship develop over time as the holiest member of their team came to think of shadiest member as a surrogate son.

Chris knew, like Tanner, Sanchez had taken to watching over the con man. Just as any good parent, the profiler stood quietly back giving the gambler room to spread his wings while unobtrusively helping him plant roots and find his special place among their unique family, casually offering some parable when the gambler faced a moral dilema, yet always ready to listen and help if Ezra needed to talk.

In return the con man had a way of ignoring all the warning signs and plunging ahead, finding various innovative ways to help the son of a missionary shake it off the morose moods that settled over him, when the dark demons haunted his thoughts.

It didn't matter that no common blood flowed through their veins. Ezra was Josiah's son and Chris' brother. The cardsharp had earned that honored spot with his loyalty and spilled blood.

The loss of his wife and son had damn near destroyed Larabee. It was only with the help of Buck, Vin and the others he had discovered a way off his spiraling downward path of self destruction. The thought of Josiah taking his first step down that same devastating path sent a shudder through Chris.

Sanchez was a strong man emotionally as well as physically. Ezra's death, whether in the line of duty, by accident or natural causes would bring about unbearable pain but never seeing the dimpled grin or twinkling emerald eyes again, never hearing him spin a web of misdirection in order to explain an action they might not approve of...not knowing what had become of him...would be a living hell.

Adam, his own son, was dead. Larabee didn't have to wonder where he was or what was happening to him. He coudn't imagine the agony of uncertainty suffered by the loved ones of a missing child and that's what Ezra was to Sanchez...His child. Not knowing was a hell Chris wasn't certain any of them would survive...especially Josiah and Vin too.

The Texan and the gambler were closer than brothers. Devastated by the loss of his friend, the young tracker would come to accept and survive Ezra's death but not knowing where he was or what had happened to the gambler would destroy the sharpshooter just as it would the ex-priest.

He wouldn't let that happen! He couldn't let that happen!

Leaving Buck and JD to watch the house, he and Josiah had set about searching the places Billings was known to hang out, listed on the file Dunne had pulled from the parole office computers.

Their first stop at been a seedy neighborhood bar on the edge of Purgatorio, oddly enough it was within walking distance of Vin's apartment building.

Their plan of discreetly questioning the employees and patrons had gone the way of the Berlin Wall when Josiah had stormed through the small tavern like an F5 tornado, demanding answers and putting the fear of God into even the meanest of the bar's customers.

Those patrons had only been too happy to respond. No one had seen Billings in almost a week and somehow Chris was certain, fearing the glint in Josiah's gray eyes and his return, Billings wouldn't be welcome anytime soon. The owner was quick to assure them he would call the minute Ray stepped through the door. Half a dozen patrons backed him up with the same promise and they all sighed in relief when the black garbed devil and his giant right hand man departed.

Larabee couldn't castigate the profiler. He, himself, had been the one to lose his temper in the pool hall, they'd just exited.

At least Mark had confirmed their suspicions. The fingerprint team had pulled a perfect set of prints from the door of Vin's truck. Whether or not he knew where Standish was, Billings had been at the site of the wreck. He'd been there and obviously had made no attempt to help either Ezra or the injured sharpshooter. For that alone, Larabee would make certain he paid the price.

The corner of Chris' lips twitched as he thought again about the conversation with Johnson. The Captain had been all to anxious to point out that it was simply good old fashioned police work on both their parts, not some crystal ball, which had brought about the results.

"Mark, ya got the file on Billings?" Chris questioned, staring at the papers JD had handed him.

"Deke just dropped it on my desk ten seconds ago. Ain't even made it out the door yet."

"Take a look at the mug shots...Later." Grinning, Larabee had waited just long enough to hear the officer's awed mutter of 'Sonuvabitch!' before disconnecting the call.

Glancing at the next address on the list of known associates, Chris made a U-Turn and headed back in the direction of Billings residence.

"We're gonna find 'im Josiah." He murmured quietly.

"I know." The preacher scrubbed a hand over his grizzled face and stared out the window, fighting the despair welling inside him. He was certain, the team all knew the ex-FBI profiler cared for them in a brotherly fashion but they also knew the southern con man was extra special to him. Josiah, like Vin had spotted something in the gambler. Perhaps it was his need to belong, to feel wanted and that need had sparked Sanchez's paternal instincts.

A wash of empathy, stronger than any before swept over the ex-FBI agent at the sudden thought of all the parents with missing children. How did they continue to wake up each morning, take breath after breath, not knowing what had happened to their child? How many years did it take before they learned to continue on with their lives? How many sleepless years before they were finally able to give up hope of ever finding the child alive.

If it was this bad for him, and Ezra wasn't even his own flesh and blood, how truly agonizing it must be for real parents? Still Ezra Standish was his son. The son of his heart. If, God forbid, they never found Standish, would Josiah, himself, be able to hold onto his faith? Would he be able to face day after day, never certain of the fate of a man he'd come to think of as a son? Would he have the strength of so many other parents?

Then again, with that vague uncertainty there was always a tiny glimmer of hope. As long as he didn't have hard evidence of Standish's death, he could always hold onto the desperate, however frail, expectation the gambler had simply moved on and was somewhere safe and happy.

Sanchez glanced at Larabee from the corner of his eye, recognizing the expression of grim determination. It was obvious, the team leader would go to his own grave before giving up the search for their missing family member.

Realizing his thoughts ahd been selfishly focusing on his own hurt, Josiah guiltily wondered what would happen to this man if they were too late? It didn't seem that long ago, they had watched helplessly as Larabee had surrendered to his grief, returning to his alcoholic path of self destruction, when he thought Tally had killed the con man.

The others had turned to each other for support but in many ways Chris was as much a loner as Ezra. If they failed this time, would he allow them to help him this time? Would he realize they all needed his strength to help them survive the unthinkable?

Each lost in his own thoughts, both men jumped at the soft ring of Larabee's cell phone.

*******

Slouched on the hood of his Dakota, one booted foot resting on the front bumper, Buck didn't even glance in their direction as Larabee's truck slid to a stop a few feet away.

The passenger door hung open and JD straightened in the seat. The youngest team member relaxed only when striding toward them, Larabee waved at him to remain where he was.

Josiah, on Larabee's heels, gave the youth an agreeing nod. He wasn't certain what Larabee had planned but JD looked exhausted and in truth had been dozing when they arrived.

The only thing Chris had said, after taking the call, was Buck and JD had Billings and were on their way to the ranch.

Having followed Larabee's order to call Nathan and have the physician meet them at his place, Josiah had been somewhat stunned when Chris had bypassed the house without so much as easing off the gas pedal.

The big man hadn't bothered to ask any questions as Larabee had steered the large black Ford over the ruts and bumps of the little used trail which snaked across the back meadow of his property.

Josiah knew he'd have his answers soon enough.

Prepared to allow Larabee to follow through with his plan but unwilling to let him do something he might, but most likely wouldn't, regret, Buck hopped down from the truck's hood and shadowed his old friend.

Growling at them to wait outside, Chris entered the Morton building he used for storing winter hay and grain.

*******

Mumbling to himself, Ray Billings paced the empty area in which he'd been placed.

'What the hell's goin' on?' He kicked the wall in frustration, angry with himself for being taken so easily.

The dark haired kid in baggy jeans and an oversized jacket, the baseball cap sitting at a cocky angle, who'd approached him asking for directions, as Ray stepped onto his porch, had appeared about as threatening as the five year old twins who lived on the corner.

He'd been more than a little suprised when the younger man had casually jammed the hard barrel of the handgun into his ribs, ordering him to keep his hands in sight as a mustached man almost as large as Slate stepped around the corner of the house. With the expertise of experience the big man had quickly pat him down, relieving Ray of his own weapon before guiding him to the large red truck parked at the corner.

"Who the hell are you guys?" He demanded to know as they shoved him into the back seat. Ignoring him and pulling a cell phone from his pocket, the larger of the two made a short cryptic call that lasted only as long as it took for him to walk to the driver's door. Receiving no response Billings demanded a bit louder. "What do you want?"

The big man slid behind the wheel and other than the younger of the two, keeping a weapon trained on him, neither man acknowledged his presence.

"If you're cops, ya might as well know you're wastin' your time. I'm clean and I've got nothin' ta say about nothin'." He growled defiantly.

The two looked familiar but they didn't act like any cops he'd ever dealt with. Neither had flashed a badge, read him his rights or even asked a question...yet.

He was certain they didn't work for Valentine. He'd spent time with the dealer the previous evening while the truck was being repaired. At least, he thought with some small satisfaction, these fools hadn't taken his stash.

Trader Jack maybe? The man didn't use strong arm tactics for small change and Ray didn't owe the fence/loan shark any money. In fact, he hadn't dealt with the fence in more than three months and none of the merchandise he passed off on the man could be traced as hot.

Mentally running the list of people who might go to the trouble sending these two after him, through his mind, Ray discarded each possibility....except one.

That woman! The snobby bitch who'd hired him and Slate...It was possible they worked for her.

No! He quickly discarded the thought. She didn't know where he lived! They'd only communicated by pager, setting up a meeting place when needed. Besides she had no reason to come after him....Unless she suspected he might be backing out of their deal....Damn! Slate said the bitch was nuts! He shoulda bailed on this damn job a lot sooner. He hadn't needed money that bad!

The silence began to press in on the red head as the truck turned onto the highway and headed away from town.

Ray kicked the wall again, his anger building. Prepared to demand some answers he whirled to face the only exit as the door flew open. His heart pounding, the words stuck in his throat as a black clad apparition from hell, stormed inside.

*******

Behind the team leader, Buck slipped inside, a second before Larabee slammed the door. They didn't know for certain, if Billings had anything at all to do with Ezra's disappearance and he was ready to step in if Chris totally lost hold of the tight control he was struggling so hard to maintain.

Wilmington shook his head, denying the unspoken question Larabee tossed in his direction. No the black eye and still slightly swollen lip weren't either his or JD's doing.

Only willing to step in if Chris got out of hand, the womanizer slouched against the wall, watching the silent interplay between his old friend and the red head, who looked like he suddenly knew what a deer caught in headlights felt like.

If it weren't for the dire circumstances which brought about his friend's steely glare, Wilmington might have found the whole scene humorous when Chris slowly stalked toward the smaller man. Stopping in front of the petty crook, Chris placed a hand on Ray's chest and gave a hard shove sending the other man sprawling to the floor on his backside.

Staring up at the glaring man looming over him, Billings face turned white. "Look I don't know what's goin' on but you can go back and tell your boss, the deal's off." Scooting backwards on his ass, as Larabee took another menacing step forward, the punk pulled a wad of bills from his pocket offering them to the man towering over him.

"Here, I spent some of it but-" The words trailed off as ignoring the proffered cash, Chris squatted on the balls of his feet fully focusing on his prey.

His voice was deadly quiet. "All I want at the moment is answers."

Gathering false bravado, Ray scrambled to his feet. "Who the hell are you?" Ray jumped to his feet. Brushing the dust from his jeans, he backed away from the blond who smoothly rose and approached him once more, reminding the watchful Buck of a cat playing with a mouse.

"Borrowing that old movie line, I'm your worst nightmare." Chris violantly shoved the man again slamming him into the wall. "What you had better understand is, you sorry sonuvabitch, is I spent time in Special Forces and I won't think twice about snapping your scrawny neck and leavin' your fuckin' body for the wolves ta feed on." Larabee gave him a cold feral grin. "Nobody knows you're here and even if someone bothered to waste their time lookin', they'll never find you so if you've got a brain the size of a peanut rattling around in that head of yours you'll do the smart thing and tell me what I want to know and tell me before I get really pissed...Now, where's Ezra Standish?"

'Gotta give 'im credit,' Buck thought, watching Billings closely. 'He actually looks confused.'

"If that name's 'sposed ta mean somethin' you're wastin' your fuckin' time cause I don't know who or what the hell you're even talkin' about." Ray began to relax. They didn't want him at all. It was a mistake. That's all. The realization brought the return of his somewhat lacking courage.

"Your truck was spotted leaving the scene of an accident a few days ago. A green Ford pickup went through the guard rail and I think you had a lot to do with it. Ezra Standish was drivin' that truck." Larabee stated.

Ray felt the blood drain from his face and his heart begin to bang painfully against his ribcage. They'd been seen? No! The man was lying. There hadn't been any cars on the road at that time. There were no witnesses. Even Slate had been sure of that! But at least now he knew what he was dealing with. They jerks were looking for that fool who'd been with Tanner.

He bit back a smile. 'Good luck boys cause you can't prove a damn thing'.

Regaining his composure, Billings shook his head side stepping the blond man, his eyes darting to the big man lounging near the door. "I got a cousin lives out that way. His car broke down and he called for a jump."

"Funny I don't remember saying where the wreck took place." Chris growled. Staying within reaching distance of the red head, he glanced at Wilmington. "Did you hear me say where?"

Billings swallowed hard as he realized his mistake. "Heard about it on the radio. Saw the last of the clean up on the way back ta town." The man quickly provided the lie he and Slate had devised in case they were seen.

Larabee hesitated, shooting a quick questioning look at Buck. Damn! Were they wrong? It had been four days since the accident. Four days Ezra had been missing. Were they doing nothing more than wasting time here? Was it merely a coincidence this man's tow truck had been in that area?

Yet even as Buck shrugged in response, unsure himself, every instinct, every nerve ending was screaming at Chris that Billings was the man with the answers. Chris saw his own doubt reflected in his old friend's troubled eyes. It was a plausible excuse.

No! They weren't wrong! All the evidence pointed to Billings. Nica's visions. His truck had been seen in the area. His fingerprints had been found on Tanner's truck.

Satisfaction swept over Billings as he glimpsed the glimmer of doubt in the hazel eyes when they glanced to the other man only to receive a shrug in answer. "Now, if ya don't mind givin' me a ride back to town," Ray pushed back his jacket sleeve smugly checking the time. "I got a hot date I really don't wanna miss."

Wilmington's heart leapt into his throat, and his mouth went dry as he straightened. It was all he could do not to pounce on the cocky bastard as he moved closer to Larabee, nodding casually toward the red head. "Nice watch he's got there, ain't it cowboy?"

Locking a death grip on Billings' arm, ignoring his loud yelp of surprise and pain, Larabee, not caring if he hurt Ray but not wanting to damage the watch, carefully removed the expensive timepiece from the man's grimey wrist.

Caught between hoping he was wrong and knowing if he was right, it was the proof he needed, Chris unconsciously held his breath as he flipped the watch over, certain he knew what the inscription engraved on the back would read.

Ez, Happy BD from your TRUE family.

It had been the first birthday Ezra had spent as part of the elite team and the six men had pooled their money to purchase the present. The inscription, Josiah's words, had voiced their feelings for the con man, telling him he was one of them...Letting him know he belonged.

While they knew the fashion conscious southerner had other fancier, more expensive, timepieces this watch was never off the southerner's wrist unless he was working undercover.

Gently clutching the watch, his hazel eyes growing colder by the second, Larabee pinned the red head with his fierce glower. "Where'd ya get this?" He asked in a deathly clod whisper. A whisper that shook even Buck.

"S-some guy sold it to me. One of them street vendor guys." Ray stuttered looking for a believable lie, in the face of the man's anger. He hadn't bothered with the wallet,...credit cards and identification only brought you trouble...but he hadn't been able to resist the simple but elegant piece of jewelry when he'd bound the man's wrists. Under the circumstances he hadn't figured Tanner would need it much longer anyway. "Gave him twenty bucks for it."

"When?" The blond demanded coldly.

Feeling emboldened, certain his answer had satisfied the stranger, Ray shrugged. "Couple weeks ago."

Enraged by the out right lie, Chris shoved the watch in his pocket and grabbing the man's collar in both hands slammed him back against the wall, only releasing him to let Billings slide to the floor, gasping for air.

Before Buck could react, a well placed bullet buried itself in the wall a half inch to the left of Ray's head.

*******

'Ez?...' The insistent voice in Standish's mind continued to call his name as the blackness of unconsciousness slowly faded once more. 'Hey, Ez? Ya still with me?'

"Unfortunately Mr. Tanner, I am indeed still 'with you' as I have yet to discover a way in which to extricate myself from these abominable surroundings." The gambler managed to croak.

As he had so many times before, ignoring the pain, forcing himself not to think about the parasites which might be growing in the water and praying he didn't fall over completely so that he drowned, Ezra leaned down far enough to take a swallow or two of the foul liquid, at least momentarily easing his dry throat and filling his empty stomach. One the bright side...if there was one...he wouldn't die of thirst.

Tanner seemed to chuckle.'Glad ta hear it. Knew ya weren't no quitter.'

"It isn't a matter of being a quitter Vin...It's simply facing facts. It's inevitable that there comes a time when you can't stack the deck in your favor, pull an ace from your sleeve or con your opponent."

Sitting in the dark, talking with the sharpshooter, the southerner had constantly searched for a method of escape. He had nothing to use as a signal in which to draw attention to his plight and even if he'd been able to free his hands, the broken leg would have prevented his climbing to freedom.

Ezra wanted the tracker to understand and accept what he himself knew to be true. He had spent his life calculating the odds, stacking the cards in his favor when necessary, turning the circumstances to give himself an edge, using his skills and charm to achieve his goals. This time, however...

He wasn't surrendering to death. He wasn't willing to go quietly into that long night. He'd fight the grim reaper every step of the way, just as he'd fought to change the preconceived image of the six men he'd come to admire but he had accepted that death was an opponent who, no matter the odds, eventually came out the final and ultimate winner.

He would continue to fight but he was all too aware it was a losing battle. His mind was becoming muddled, violant shivers were constantly racking his numb body and he was finding it hard and harder to draw a deep breath. He wasn't exactly folding his hand but Ezra knew it wouldn't be much longer before his black garbed, hollow eyed, opponent declared victory.

The words were a soft Texas drawl.'That's when ya count on your friends Ez.'

He blinked, shaking his head, unsure what he thought he heard. "Excuse me?"

'When ya can't stack the cards, or con your opponent, or pull out that hidden ace...That's when ya count on your friends ta help.' The apparition smiled. 'Ya know if possible, ain't none of us gonna let ya down if we can help it.'

"That possibility that any of you might let me down, never occurred to me." Ezra forced a grin. "I just want you to realize that there are times when even the best efforts aren't enough and that failing after such tremendous efforts is no reason for shame or guilt on anyone's part." 'Especially when someone isn't worthy of such efforts.' His inner voice chided.

The gambler turned away, trying to curl into a ball as a coughing spasm sent arrows of pain shooting through his chest leaving him gasping for breath.

'Ez?...Hold on Ez...Slow breaths...Relax...' Tanner encouraged. 'Just breath.'

"It's alright Mr. Tanner. I-I just need a-a moment t-to catch my breath." The southerner closed his eyes in concentration, forcing himself to relax and push the pain and his panic aside. He had no fear of dying, in fact at times, had thought it might be welcome but he didn't want to here...alone. "I greatly doubt where I'm going I will be allowed to play guardian angel, Vin but you have my word I will use every con at my disposal to keep Satan from making life too unpleasant for you and the others."

Ignoring his words, the soft drawl questioned. 'Do ya trust me Ez?'

The emerald eyes snapped open at the quiet question. "Unfailingly Vin." He found himself surprised not only by the answer but by the fact it was an honest answer he hadn't paused to give any thought.

There had been a very few times in his life when Ezra had placed a modicum of trust in another person. Even then he had remained always on his guard. Always cautious. Always leery of being deceived and used. His own mother had proven time again that every one watched out for themselves and their own selfish interests.

Never had he placed his complete and unconditional trust in anyone. That is never, until the six team members had entered his life.

'Then believe me when I tell you they won't disappoint you. You just have to hang on a little bit longer.' Tanner moved to sit beside the southerner, sliding a supportive, reassuring arm around him. 'They'll be here soon, Ez and I promise, I'll stay right here with ya. Just lean on me and get some rest.'

Wrapped in the secure protective grasp of his first true friend, Ezra let his eyes slide closed. It no longer mattered to him that Vin was simply a figment of his overly stressed imagination. His mind had provided him an escape, allowing him to overcome his greatest fear.

He had a friend who would stay beside him until the end. Ezra wouldn't die alone.

*******

"Get the fuck out!" Chris bellowed the order as Josiah and JD burst through the door, but didn't pull his attention away from the man trembling at his feet, his gun aimed at the center of Billings forehead, .

"What are you planning to do Brother?" Josiah questioned calmly, taking in the scene before him. Billings, pale and shaking uncontrollably, his hands up as if able to ward off the bullets, stared wide eyed at Larabee.

"This bottom feeding piece of shit knows where Ezra is. I'm gonna count to three and if he doesn't cough up some answers I'm gonna splatter his fuckin' brains all over that wall." The team leader's voice was as calm as the preacher's. "Now get the hell out! All of you!"

"I don't know what he's talkin' about!" Billings gasped out loud. "I don't know anything about no Ezra...Never even heard a him. I swear!" He half sobbed in fear of the man holding the gun.

The large preacher moved forward to get a better look at the man Larabee intended to kill. "You plannin' on huntin' down his partner too?...I mean look at this sorry piece of shit...He didn't do this alone. Paralyzed and with a hang over Ezra would have kicked this guy's ass without even breaking a sweat."

Buck stifled a smile, dropping his gaze to the floor and JD choked back a nervous laugh at the profiler's comment.

"I'll do whatever I have to." Chris stated coldly. "Whether we want to admit it or not, Ezra's probably already dead and I'm gonna make sure every sonuvabitch responsible for that pays the price. Damnit! I ain't tellin' y'all again...Get out!"

"Ezra's our family too, Chris." Sanchez glanced at Buck and JD, seeing their own determined expressions. "We stand together on this. Just like always."

"One."

Ray ducked, covering his head as Larabee pulled the trigger again.

"You can't do this!" He pleaded, finding no protection from the man's friends.

"Two."

Billings nearly soiled his pants as the bullet splintered the wood a mere inch above his head. His stomach churning, his heart pounding so hard he was certain it would explode, Ray stared transfixed, into the man's cold hazel eyes, finding no anger, no mercy, no emotion at all...nothing but utter emptiness. He knew without a doubt he would die in the next few seconds, killed by this man's hands.

Everything seemed to slow down as he watched the blond man adjust his aim, the barrel of the gun centering once more, centering on some invisible spot in the middle of his forehead. He could see the muscles tighten as he began to apply pressure on the trigger. Just mere fractions and the firing pin would drop!

"Three."

"Wait! Stop! Oh God stop! He's alive!" Billings screamed simultaneously, throwing his arms over his head as if they could halt a bullet. "He's alive! We didn't kill him! I swear that's the truth! He was alive when we left! It was a mistake! Honest ta God! It was all a mistake! Please! Please..."

"Where is Ezra?" Larabee's voice was colder than ice and he made no move to lower the gun or loosen his finger on the trigger.

Certain he was about to die, the man cringed trying to pull away as taking a hold on the back of his collar, Larabee yanked him to his feet. "Please I swear...he was driving the truck and I lost the picture and he went to the apartment..."

"Where is he?" Chris didn't want to hear excuses or misguided reasoning. Ezra was their top priority. They could get answers to the rest of their questions later. At this moment, his immediate concern was finding Ezra and bringing him home...Hopefully alive.

Of course the perfect scenario would be to discover the con man holding his captors prisoner, giving his team mates a devilish grin as he questioned what had taken them so long.

Billings wasn't sure which frightened him more, the thought of the man pulling the trigger or the burning rage which now accompanied the soft deadly growl.

"My cousin's. He's at my cousin's!"

"You can tell us all about it on the way." Pressing the barrel painfully into the skin, pushing against the smaller man's chin, Chris used the weapon to tilt Billing's head back. "You're gonna take us to Ezra. If you're lying....if you're setting us up..." He trailed off but ther was no mistaking the meaning in his icy eyes.

"I'm not!" Ray squeaked, the team leader's hold the only thing keeping him on his feet. "I swear I'm not! We left 'im at my cousin's old place. It was just a mistake. She wanted Tanner!"

Fearing Larabee's reaction, Josiah took a firm grip on Chris' gun hand. With his other hand he forced Larabee to release the red head and shoved him out of the team leader's reach, sending the man stumbling toward Buck and JD who hustled him outside.

"C'mon Chris," Sanchez steered the younger man toward the door. "Let's go bring our black sheep back into the fold."

*******

With Wilmington's truck practically to his rear bumper, Chris glanced in the rear view mirror as he turned off the highway. Anger mixed with pride as he glimpsed the small woman sitting silently in Buck's passenger seat.

He been stunned to find Nica waiting patiently beside Nathan on the porch as they'd stopped at the ranch house to pick up the physician. Sensing he didn't want her near Billings, the petite construction worker had bypassed Larabee's vehicle and quickly climbed into the seat JD vacated, ignoring Larabee's brusque order to take Nathan's car and return to the hospital.

"Nica it would be best-"

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm going Chris. I promise I won't get in the way. I'll stay in the truck if that's what you want but you aren't gonna stop me from going."

Realizing he was wasting time fighting a losing battle, Larabee still nonetheless felt obligated to try and dissuade her once more.

"He said Ezra was alive but-" Chris softened his tone. "You need to understand, Nica, he might be lying. And if he's telling the truth we don't know what kinda shape-"

"It doesn't matter Chris." She forced a smile. Understanding he was only trying to protect her from living her worst nightmare, she gave his hand a small squeeze of gratitude. "Either way, no matter what, I want to be there for him...I-I...need to be with him...Just like you do."

Understanding that need, he had climbed into his own truck letting her remain where she was.

The intermittant rain which had plagued them the past two days had finally ended and Chris couldn't help thinking Vin and Ezra should be enjoying the array of colors filling the sky as the sun began it's western descent, from the comfort of Tanner's porch.

He had never told Ezra he knew of the gambler's love of watching the sunset from Lookout Ledge. Just as Vin retreated to his mountain cabin to clear his mind and find his inner peace, Larabee knew the southerner would sit for hours on the rocky outcropping that looked out over the Hoosier's valley and the mountains beyond.

It gave the older man a modicum of comfort knowing the southerner found a sense of peace in this land the Hoosier, himself, had come to love so much. Perhaps he should invite the con man out to the ranch more often...or if the worse had indeed happened, he would see to it Ezra rested in peace on the that beloved ledge...

Shaking away the morbid thought, Larabee turned his attention back to the red headed man cowering in his back seat. "Who's the she that wanted Tanner?"

Trying to stay as far away from Chris as possible, Billings pressed against the passenger door, making himself as small as humanly possible. Staring out at the passing scenery he appeared to be weighting his chances of survival if he jumped from the speeding vehicle as opposed to remaining in the truck with the empty eyed madman and his huge friend. Other than telling them to turn left or right, he had remained silent hoping they would somehow forget he even existed.

"Confession's good for the soul," Josiah rumbled, slowly turning in the seat to face Ray. "And in this case it may be the only thing that keeps you breathin'."

"I don't know who she is." Seeing their expressions of anger and disbelief, he quickly added, "It's the truth, I swear!" He braced himself as they bounced through several deep ruts in the old dirt road. "She come inta Tully's one night. Real good lookin' broad, with class, not like the whores and scags who usually hang out there. The second night...She's flashin' a wad a cash. We get ta talkin' and she tells me she's lookin' for someone to do a job for her, no questions asked. Wants this fella Tanner snatched and put someplace outta the way...Mumbled somethin' about him bein' the key ta gettin' everything she wanted."

"Give us a name." Sanchez demanded.

"Don't have one. I swear I don't! If I did, I'd tell ya! I just had a pager number." Ray insisted. "Your friend...the one you're lookin' for...he knew her. Said somethin' about meetin' her at a party or some such thing."

Billings grabbed the back of the seat to keep from being thrown to the floorboards when Larabee jammed on the brakes, the big truck sliding to a stop in the mud.

Josiah eyed the small clearing, searching for any sign of movement from the tin shack and fallen down remains of an old house.

Smoothly drawing his gun and clicking off the safety Chris aimed the weapon at Billings, the barrel a few inches from the red head's left eye. "What are we walking into?"

"Nothin'." Ray squeaked, sliding down in the seat. "My cousin, he decided this place was too damn much work so he headed out for Florida a couple years back."

"Ya tellin' us Ezra's here all by himself?" The preacher questioned. "There's no one watchin' 'im?"

"Wasn't no reason ta watch him." Seeing the color drain from their faces the small man cringed quick to offer a further explanation. "He couldn't get away and even if he did we could a caught up with him before he got too far."

"Cover us." Larabee ordered dragging the smaller man from the truck. Nodding approval when he saw Dionica move to crouch on the floorboards of Wilmington's vehicle he waited until the others had taken positions behind protective cover,

"If you're setting us up,...if I even catch wiff of anything remotely like a trap, you'll be the first one to take a bullet. I'll personally fire the shot that sends you to hell." Chris warned before shoving Billings toward the shack.

Alert, his left hand wrapped in the back of Billings collar, keeping the man in front of him, Chris marched toward the metal building.

Crossing the open territory wasn't the smartest or safest way to approach the unknown situation but his only concern, the only thing he could think about was Ezra.

"Wait, ya don't understand-" Billings tried to protest.

"If there's anyone inside ya better yell out and let 'im know you're comin' in." Larabee ordered.

"But-"

Kicking open the door Chris shoved the man inside, waiting only a second before, with weapon raised and ready, he followed.

Waiting behind cover, the team exchanged startled glances then rushed forward as the sound of knuckles smacking against flesh was followed by Billings landing in the mud outside the door.

"I told you what would happen if you lied to me!" Larabee stalked through the doorway, his pistol aimed once again at the red head.

Buck grabbed his friend's wrist shoving the gun barrel aside before the blond could kill the one person who knew where their gambler was.

"I tried ta tell ya he wasn't in there. He's round back!" Stumbling to his feet, swiping at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, Ray led them around the shed to a spot between the two buildings. "We left him in there." He pointed to a square piece of metal laying on the ground.

"You buried him alive?" Buck's stunned question proceeded his roar of rage. "You scum sucking sonuvabitch! I'll kill ya myself!"

In a flying tackle that would have made an NFL coach proud, Josiah knocked the womanizer to the ground before he could reach the red head. Nathan joined in the fray trying to calm Wilmington as Billings scrambled to avoid Buck's reach.

"It's just an old well they started diggin'!" He shouted. "Ain't even that deep...Maybe fifteen or twenty feet."

Fifteen or twenty feet. The absence of a ladder that would have allowed the gambler to easily climb to safety, the cover replaced over the abandoned well, was a telling sign,...there'd been no plan to ever release the southerner.

A bitter black fury enveloped Larabee.

They'd dropped his teammate, his friend...his brother into the ground and driven away, leaving the con man to a slow lonely death in the cold damp darkness.

He aimed at Billings, fully intending to kill the man.

The sound of a gunshot resonated through the air as firing a bullet into the dirt, getting everyone's attention, JD stepped into Larabee's path. He'd spent enough time on the team to know, at the moment, Chris was the most immediate threat to Billings.

"Get outta the way JD." Larabee ordered, not wanting to hurt the youngster but not lowering his weapon.

"No." Straightening his shoulders, Dunne stood his ground in the face of a rage he'd seen very few times before. "Right now we need to help Ezra. Let's get him outta there and then you and Buck can do whatever the hell ya want to ta that sorry bastard."

Chris' gaze dropped to the sheet of metal and guilt overwhelmed him. Ezra was the top priority. Not his need, his desire, to make this man pay for the crimes he'd committed against Larabee's family.

Ezra was the top priority.

Fearing what he'd find in that hole, Chris had let his anger momentarily take control but JD was right. They needed to help Ezra.

Ezra was top priority.

"Josiah, back my truck in over here. Not to close though. Be careful. We don't wanna cave it on him. JD get on your cell and call Mark. Tell him to get out here and then call the hospital and have the Medivac chopper standing by." Reholstering his weapon, Larabee pushed his emotions aside and began issuing orders, focusing on the job at hand.

"There's no place for them to land Chris."

"They can meet us at the highway if we need 'em. Buck rig up some gear." The lock boxes in the back of each truck contained equipment for all types of emergencies. Easily tossing the metal cover aside, Chris stretched out flat on the wet ground and peered into the blackness. "Ezra! Ezra can you hear me?...Ezra!"

Silence met his shout.

"Chris!"

Catching the flashlight Josiah tossed him, Larabee's eyes momentarily met Nica's, certain he was seeing his own fear reflected in her eyes. Her expression stoic, the woman stood gripping the driver's door handle, her knuckles turning white as she fought the urge not to rush forward, struggling to keep her word to remain out of the way.

"I cuffed Billings to the shed door." Nathan explained. Following Chris' example the physician lay down on his stomach at the well's edge, adding the light he held with the beam from Larabee's trying to pierce the darkness, listening for any sound from within. "Doesn't look that wide but as long as there's no obstructions, one of us should be able to climb down to him."

No movement was wasted as working quickly and efficiently the team set about doing what was needed to rescue their southern cardsharp.

"Ezra!" The physician continued to call out to their con man, hoping to receive an answer.

"You're gonna have to move real slow and easy. With all the rain the last few days it wouldn't take much at all to bring a wall collapsing down on top of him...Maybe on top of both of you." Buck pointed out needlessly as he helped Chris into the web climbing harness. Running the nylon rope he used for rock climbing, through the carbineers and clips he double checked the knots as Josiah tied off the other end securely to the Ford's trailer hitch. "If possible don't touch the sides. Let us do all the work."

JD stepped up and shoved a small two way radio into a pocket of the vest and clipped an extra web harness for Ezra and another flashlight on the belt, quickly checking the other pockets to be sure they contained any equipment the Hoosier might need.

Removing his boots, Chris knelt at the well's edge, holding his breath as he waited to see if the wet ground would hold his weight. When nothing shifted or fell, he got Wilmington's nod of approval as slipping on gloves everyone got in position and took hold of the rope, before easing over the side.

Using one hand to keep his body away from the muddy walls, Larabee concentrated on the flash light beam cutting through the blackness, watching for anything that would impede his progress, seeking his first sight of the southerner.

"Ezra?" He called out with baited breath as the light finally bounced off chestnut hair. "Ezra, it's Chris." Not wanting to land on top of Standish, he raked the light over the unmoving gambler trying to judge the con man's position.

Chris wasn't sure if it was the cold water soaking through his jeans or the fear that they were too late which sent a shiver through him as his stocking feet sank into the mud. Letting the others continue to lower the rope until he had enough slack to move freely, he gave two tugs and squatted down in the wet muck beside the motionless gambler.

He couldn't help thinking, as the flashlight illuminated the man, that Ezra appeared to be sleeping, his head resting on someone's shoulder, a serene expression on his bruised muddy face. "Ezra? We're here Ez." He whispered softly. "We're gonna get ya outta here."

*******

Standing near the window, Lucy watched as the duty nurse scribbled her hourly readings on Tanner's chart. As she hooked the chart on the end of the bed she gave the vet a smile.

"He's going to be just fine, honey." She assured the vet, moving toward the door. "Must be having a nice dream."

Lucy frowned. "Excuse me?"

"He's smiling."

*******

"Chris?"

Ignoring the physician's voice coming over the two way radio, Larabee slipped off his gloves and placed his trembling fingers against the cold skin at the con man's throat. "Chris?"

'Please God...Don't do this...Please!...Please don't do this!' He released the breath he'd been holding, his own heart beginning to pump again as he finally felt the faint erratic heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

"Chris!" Undisquised fear was plain in the voices calling down to him.

"He's alive." He sighed into the radio, a small smile touching his lips as the sound of the relieved cheers, filtered into the small dark place.

"It's gonna be okay Ezra. We're all here. We're gonna get ya outta here." Fastening the flashlight to the Velcro strap on his shoulder and leaning the gambler forward, Larabee quickly cut through the plastic binding the southerner's wrists before gently running his hands over the con man's limbs searching for injuries.

He cringed as he felt the man's ribs give way under his touch and mentally cursed when he felt the odd angle of Standish's leg beneath the murky water, knowing it was broken.

"He's unconscious Nate. His leg is definitely broken and it feels like he might have some busted ribs. His breathin' sounds funny too."

There was a muffled curse on the other end and Chris was sure he heard JD calling for the chopper before Nathan clarified. "We aren't gonna be able to bring him up on his own if he's unconscious. He won't be able to control his movements."

"Get him in the harness, Chris." Buck said into the radio. "Use the clips to fasten him to your webbing and we'll bring you up together." His voice softened on the radio as he turned to the other men. "Let's try and do this as smooth and easy as possible boys. With Ez strapped to 'im, Chris is gonna have a hard time tryin' ta control their ascent."

"Jerkin' and jarin' him around isn't gonna do Ezra any good either."

Nathan's observation brought a short smile to Chris' lips as he worked securing the gambler into the harness.

"I swear Ezra I'm gonna have Nathan figure out a way to implant tracking devices on you and Tanner. Save me havin' a heart attack or wonderin' what's happenin' every time you two are out of my sight." Keeping up a steady stream of inane conversation, working as quickly as his cold fingers would allow, Larabee carefully maneuvered the limp southerner into the harness.

"The way I figure it, between the two of you, I'm gonna have more gray hair than Josiah and when ya throw the rest of this crazy bunch into the mix, I'm gonna be an old man before I ever get to enjoy middle age." Removing both their belts, he used the leather straps to brace Ezra's legs tightly together, just below his knees, and right above the break in his ankle, hoping to keep from doing further damage to the injured leg. Even though he was unconscious, Larabee wanted to spare the gambler any undue pain.

"Ya know this isn't exactly my idea of a vacation spot. Always had you figured more for the Bahamas type." Chris hefted the smaller man, bracing him between his own body and the muddy wall, trying to keep the weight off the gambler's legs. Ezra's bruised cheek, his eyes closed, lashes fanned across the paly muddy cheeks, rested against the hollow of Larabee's shoulder as the team leader slipped a hand between their bodies, fumbling with the clips.

"To hell with it!" He growled when he was only able to fasten one of the clips together without releasing his hold on the southerner. "What say we go home?"

He couldn't be certain but almost believed he felt the con man give a small nod.

"Ezra? Ya with me Pard?" Silence was his only answer.

'Wishful thinking.' Hoping he wasn't doing more harm than good, he wrapped his arms tightly around the unmoving cardsharp and tugged on the rope, signalling the men above.

Each pull on the lifeline elevated the two men a little higher and caused the rope to twist, putting them in a slow spiral which compounded Chris' attempts to keep them from swinging into the walls.

Keeping his head bent and his shoulders rounded, the team leader attempted to wrap his own body around the gambler's trying to protect his injured team mate from the falling clumps of mud and tiny rocks as the rope cut a groove into the well's opening. Spiraling, Larabee twisted his body, cursing as his shoulder slammed into a rock jutting from the wall.

As pain shot down his arm, his only thought was, Better him than Ezra.

"Sorry," Buck muttered, hearing the man's muffled curse over the radio laying on the ground.

All four men working the rope turned as the powerful engine on Larabee's truck fired up. Seated behind the wheel, Dionica steadily inched the large vehicle forward taking up the slack in the line.

"I love a woman with brains." Wilmington grinned, releasing the rope when it became taut. Moving to the edge of the well, he dropped to his knees guiding the rope that now smoothly lifted his friends from the blackness.

"That's enough." Josiah shouted, moving to help Buck and Nathan when Larabee's head and shoulders appeared above the edge.

Dionica cut the engine and jumped from the vehicle running to join them.

"Easy...Watch his leg." Chris ordered as the others pulled the two men to safety.

Unsnapping the one clip which had held them together, Nathan and Josiah gently lifted the unconscious gambler and placed him on the blanket JD spread out, leaving Buck to assist Larabee, out of the ropes.

Dropping to her knees and settling on the wet ground, placing Ezra's head in her lap, Nica comfortingly stroked the damp curls, her eyes locked on the battered features of the man who held her heart.

"What'dya do that for Nate?" JD's worried voice was an octave higher as he watched the doctor wrap a light layer of gauze around the gambler's head, covering his eyes. "Don't ya think he's been in the dark long enough?"

"That's just it JD, I don't want him damaging his eyes if he comes to." Jackson explained. The sun had set and the doctor took a moment to position the men so their flashlights gave him enough illumination to see by without shining directly in the con man's face.

Ignoring his teammate's questions, the physician methodically set about examining the gambler's injuries. Applying a splint to his leg and taping Ezra's ribs in preparation of moving him, Nathan wasn't aware of Mark's arrival, along with several police units, until the spinning red and blue lights, flickered over the area.

"Chris!" Johnson paused, his worried gaze raking over the inert con man. "The lifeline helicopter was waiting by the highway when we passed. Is he alright?"

"Would you be if you'd been in a car wreck then spent three or four days buried alive?" Buck snapped bitterly. "The sonuvabitch who did this is cuffed to the shed. Here's your search and arrest warrants." He pulled the papers from his back pocket tossing them to the police captain. "Ya wanna take that bastard in alive, I suggest ya get 'im the hell outta here before I break his fuckin' neck!"

"We need to get him to the hospital." Nathan stated matter of factly, ignoring the small altercation.

"Put him in the back of my car-"

"With the leg and rib injuries, we need to keep him stretched out flat." Nathan interrupted the police captain's offer. "It sounds like he may already have a punctured lung."

The police officers volunteered the emergency blankets kept in the trunks of their cars, making as soft a resting spot as possible in the bed of Larabee's truck. Silence fell over the area as the teammates gently carried their injured member to the vehicle.

"Can ya have someone bring Buck's truck to the hospital?" Chris questioned as Mark slammed the door when Larabee started the engine.

"No problem. You just take care a Ezra."

Larabee glanced through the back window. The gambler's head once again rested in Nica's lap. Nathan and JD on one side, Josiah and Buck on the other, the four men held tightly to the gambler, bracing him against the rough ride.

Silence continued to reign as Mark and his officers watched the big pickup slowly move away.

*******

As the Medivac helicopter lifted into the air, Chris threw the magnetic bitch light onto the dash and pressed the gas petal to the floor. As much as he wanted to be in the air with Standish and Jackson, wanted to be there for Ezra, he felt it was more important for both the gambler and the construction worker, to let Nica take his place.

The drive back to the highway had seemed interminable as Larabee kept the powerful truck at an unaccustomed crawl, doing his best to avoid the worst of the ruts and bumps in the little used dirt road.

Constantly glancing over his shoulder he had watched as the gambler's body had begun trembling uncontrollably, in an attempt to warm itself, causing the others in the truck bed to have trouble maintaining their supportive grips on the southerner. At one point the shivering had become so violent, Chris had feared the gambler might be having some sort of seizure.

By the time they'd finally reached the paved road where the paramedics waited to take over, the gambler was having difficulty breathing and had yet to regain consciousness.

"He's gonna be okay." Dunne muttered lowly, from the back seat, hoping to convince not only the other men but himself as well, as Chris raced the truck toward the hospital. "He's gonna be okay."

The others could only pray the kid was right and Lady Luck was watching over her favorite gambler.

*******

Nica Ryan stood staring at the closed doors leading to the treatment area of the emergency room, if possible, feeling even more helpless than she had on the ride to the hospital.

She'd watched silently, prayerfully as Nathan and the paramedics worked on the unconscious gambler, inserting an intubation tube to help ease his labored breathing and numerous IV's of much needed liquids and medication, struggling to stablize his condition, double checking for earlier unseen injuries.

After what seemed like hours but could have onl been minutes, they had landed at the hospital helipad. Waiting, nurses and interns scrambled to assist Nathan and the medics with their patient. Swiftly but gently transferring the unconscious man to the waiting gurney.

Trying to stay out of the way and let them do their job, Nica hurried after the medical personnel as they entered the hospital. As they had pushed the gurney, carrying the other half of her soul, through those doors, Nathan has assured her he would send word as soon as he knew anything definite

He had cut his words short, sprinting after the gurney as she heard someone calling out a cardiac arrest.

Her hand flying to her mouth to hold back her scream of denial, she sagged against the nearest wall, tears flowing as those two words continued to ring in her ears.

She was still standing in the same spot when Larabee and the others arrived.

*******

The mood in the darkened hospital room was somber, whispers mixing with the sounds of the medical monitors as everyone waited for the con man to awaken.

Everyone looked up as the door opened, allowing the noise from the corridor to spill inside.

"Hey Vin, how ya feelin'?" Mark Johnson kept his own voice low as he entered. His pleasure at seeing the pale sharpshooter quietly talking with Buck and Lucy was dampened by the sight of the unconscious gambler lying in the next bed. He was more than a little surprised to see the psychic Larabee had hired, sitting silently beside the con man, his hand wrapped in hers.

The gambler's leg had been set and cast, his ribs taped, his cuts and bruises treated. Cat scans had indicated a mild concussion. Counter measures had been taken for the hypothermia suffered by the southerner and a battery of tests had been run searching for hidden injuries. Just as Jackson had suspected, a broken rib had punctured Ezra's lung.

Despite his injuries, Nathan had assured them barring unexpected complications the con man would make a full recovery and had removed the ventilator that morning but they all knew even the physician was beginning to worry when Ezra continued to show no sign of waking.

Chris' voice broke the quiet of the gloomy room. "What'd you find out?"

Mark didn't have to ask what Chris was referring to. The officer had spent the past two days since making the arrest interrogating Billings on the accident involving Vin's truck and Ezra's kidnapping.

Mark shrugged. "Not much more than we already knew. The paint and wood we found on Vin's truck matches that of the tow truck and its front quarter panel's been recently repaired and painted." The captain explained. "We matched the prints found in the truck and the shed to a Joseph Slate but Billings refuses to give him up. Says Slate is a friend who sometimes fills in for him and has spent time out at his cousin's. Truth is, I think he's more afraid of Slate then of us. Slate's one mean sonuvabitch. The dude's done time for manslaughter and is suspected of at least a couple other murders but we couldn't come up with any evidence to prove it. Unless Ezra's able to identify him or Billings decides to roll, we won't be able to charge him."

"What about the woman who hired him?" Josiah questioned. "He give you her name?"

Seated between the two beds, Chris stared at the floor, unable to shake the disconcerting feeling he already knew, but didn't want to acknowledge, the answer to that question. For two days he'd sat in this same chair, all the possibilities running through his mind, as Billing's words had repeatedly rang in his ears.

'It was just a mistake. She wanted Tanner!'

'Your friend...the one you're lookin' for...he knows her. Said somethin' about meetin' her at a party or some such thing.'

There was always the chance Chris was wrong. In his work as undercover agent for the elite team, Ezra had met a variety of criminals and crazies, both male and female who wouldn't think twice about seeking revenge but according to what Billings had said, this particular woman had been after Vin.

'Mumbled somethin' about him bein' the key ta gettin' everything she wanted.' He recalled the petty crook saying.

Was it possible? Had that insane bitch once again entered his life only to bring more pain and destruction to the people he cared about most? Were Ezra and Vin laying in these beds because of a crazy woman's unrelenting obsession with Larabee?

"Keeps sayin' he don't know her name." Johnson continued, drawing Chris' attention back to the conversation. "We traced the pager number he gave us to a Jean Davidson but it's most likely an alias. According to the pager company, she came in, paid cash and then called a few days ago to disconnect the service." He shrugged again. "Sorry Chris. No credit card usage or forwarding address. The name doesn't even appear in our computers."

"Ella."

They stared at Ezra's bed, uncertain they'd heard the raspy word at all.

Seemingly frozen in place, everyone stared at the offending machine as the monitor alarm sounded. Emitting a high steady whine, the lines which only a moment before had been jumping and spiking with each beat of Ezra's heart were now running in a straight line across the screen.

"What the hell!"

The others moved out of the way, making room for Nathan to work on the gambler as the door flew open and medical personnel rushed into the room. They could see the crash cart left in the entrance, ready for use if needed.

Seeing the young woman, trembling, her face colorless, Josiah pulled Nica against him comfortingly as they watched the doctor examine their con man.

Nathan had assured her the cardiac arrest she'd heard announced in the emergency room had been an older patient suffering a heart attack but this wasn't a different patient. This was Ezra. It was indeed his monitor that announcing the fact, his heart was no longer beating.

With shuddering breaths which broke the huge man's heart, Nica reached out gripping JD's hand in a reassuring gesture, pulling him closer, wishing she could wipe the fear from the young man's eyes, knowing the same fear was mirrored in her own.

Jackson suddenly chuckled, drawing confused and angry expressions from his friends.

"It's alright, the monitor just came off." The physician grinned in relief holding up the clothes pin like device that had been clipped to the southerner's index finger.

Glad for Josiah's solid support, Dionica sagged against the large man, giving JD a wide smile, through her tears.

"I-irritating n-noise." Ezra mumbled as he curled his fingers into his palm when Nathan lifted his hand to replace the monitor.

"The rest of us find it very comforting...so just humor us!" Uncurling the long fingers, Nathan gently replaced the device, resetting the monitor. "Ya stubborn southern jackass." The mumbled addition caused chuckles as everyone gathered around the bed letting the con man know how happy they were to have him back among them.

"V-Vin?" Ezra struggled to keep his eyes open, as he turned his head, blindly searched the room for the Texan.

"I'm here, Ez. I'm fine." The sharpshooter reassured his friend as he tossed back the blanket prepared to join the other team members beside the con man.

"You're not gonna be if you move your skinny ass one more inch outta that bed Tanner." Nathan threatened, gently pushing the Texan back against the pillows. "I swear it would be easier to just handcuff ya to it."

Vin glared at the healer who only glowered back as Lucy watched with an ill concealed smile, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Tanner, reacting like a five year old, stuck his tongue out at the physician's back.

"Wouldn't do ya any good." JD retorted with a laugh, all the tension and worry of the last few days draining away. "Ya know he'd just get Ezra to pick the lock."

"D-dark...so dark." Standish's remark drew everyone's attention to where he was struggling to sit up, gasped and instead reached up an unsteady hand towards his face.

Nica leaned closer, soothingly stroked her fingers across Ezra's forehead, hoping to ease his rising panic. "It's alright Bright Eyes. Everything's fine." She whispered.

"Gonna have to keep it that way for a little while longer Ezra. I don't wanna take a chance of hurting your eyes by exposing them to bright lights too soon." Jackson explained, uncertain if the gambler understood as the injured southerner surrendered to the drugs being pumped into his veins and Nica's gentle ministrations, mumbling something incoherent about thanking Tanner for the company.

*******

With a gasp, his heart racing wildly, the gambler forced open his unbandaged eyes escaping the grips of the nightmare that enwrapped him. He jumped as a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Easy Ezra. Everything's alright." Larabee's quiet voice assured the con man he wasn't alone. He wasn't still in that dark hole waiting for death to claim him. "Just relax..."

Seeming to understand the southerner's unspoken need, Chris raised the head of the bed to keep the illumination behind the cardsharp and turned the light up a level bringing the area into better focus.

"Thank you." Ezra mumbled around the ice chips Larabee spooned into his mouth.

He seemed surprised not to find every available space in the room occupied by those who had come to be his family. Usually in these situations he woke to discover the other members of the team sprawled in extra chairs confiscated from other rooms or stretched out on the floor.

"They'll be back in the mornin'. I figured everybody could use some sleep." Chris grinned adjusting the blankets. "Practically had to place Nica under arrest to get her outta here. Lucy's spendin' the night with her at your place. Figured it would be easier on her." He added.

"Ten...dollars says...'Siah's sleep in...waitin' room." The words were slurred as letting the cool clean liquid sooth his throat, reassured by the dim light and feel of the calloused hand covering his, the southerner relaxed, his heavy eye lids sliding shut as he dozed off once more.

That wasn't a bet Larabee was willing to take the gambler up on. When it came to hospital stays for one of his own, Sanchez had a bad habit of ignoring even the most direct orders. Too many times when the grizzled ex-expriest was supposed to be home resting they'd find the large man keeping guard from hallway or sacked out in the waiting room, there if they needed him. A rock solid bulwark.

"He okay?"

The Hoosier couldn't prevent his smile at Tanner's sleepily mumbled question. It never ceased to amaze the older man how the sharpshooter always seemed to know exactly what was happening with each of his team mates. Chris would have bet, Vin was awake ten seconds after Ezra's eyes had opened, yet he hadn't made a sound until after the gambler dozed off again.

"Go back to sleep, Pard, he's fine. Think he might have had a nightmare."

Vin's weary sigh echoed in the room. "Reckon that'll happen for a bit."

"Reckon so." Chris responded sadly. It was another demon the con man would need to fight. 'As if he doesn't have enough of those already.' His inner voice added as Larabee pulled the blankets up over Vin's shoulders as the Texan scrunched around trying to get comfortable.

Making sure his friends were finally asleep, Chris settled back into the chair to watch over them, prepared to do battle and chase away any monsters that plagued their sleep.

As he shifted on the chair, he felt something budge in his pocket. Fishing in, he pulled out the object and stared at it in the dim light. Rereading the inscription, he leaned forward and careful of the bandages, lightly buckled the strap around Ezra's wrist.

*******

"Please don't." Ezra requested as Chris reached to close the window blinds. The gambler had laid in the bed, silently watching for several minutes as lost in thought, Larabee, his hands shoved in his pocket, his shoulders slumped, stood staring out at the rising sun.

He had awakened several times during the night, each time to find Larabee seated by the bed offering comfort and reassurance with his steadfast presence.

"How about a compromise, so Nathan don't kick my ass?" The blond suggested, adjusting the window covering so the light wouldn't shine directly on the bed.

"It wasn't your fault Mr. Larabee."

Chris appeared startled by the gambler's quiet statement, turning to face the con man with a bemused expression.

"No I haven't acquired Mr. Tanner's ability for seemingly reading your mind." Reaching for the water on the bed table, the con man hesitated, his expression confused as he stared at the white gauge wrapped around each wrist. "Good heavens! I look as if I attempted suicide." His expression softened, seeing the familiar object which loosely encircled his left wrist on top the bandages. He had thought it lost and didn't have to ask how it come to be returned to him.

Larabee looked away trying to forget the sight of the southerner's raw bloody wrists, evidence of his struggles to free himself.

Absently turning the watch on his wrist, Ezra voiced his original thought. "As I was saying, Mr. Larabee, I don't need our Texas friend's uncanny talent for knowing what a person is thinking. I've spent my entire life reading people and even that ability isn't necessary for guilt emanates from you as surely as Mr. Wilmington's favorite cologne fills the air before one of his 'hot' dates." Ezra momentarily closed his eyes, hoping to will away the insistent throbbing at his temples. "None of this unfortunate incident was your fault. You, sir, have an annoying habit of taking on guilt which doesn't belong to you."

'If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black.' Chris snorted derisively. 'Man would probably blame himself for Lincoln's assassination. Of course he would also find a way to rationalize his feelings before locking them away.'

Hearing the scrape of the chair legs against the tile floor, Ezra opened his eyes as Chris settled into the chair that now faced his bed.

"It was Ella Gaines wasn't it?" Larabee questioned. "It was Ella that hired those morons to get Vin."

No one else seemed to have understood the first word the gambler had spoken upon waking the previous afternoon, but Larabee had been certain it was Ella's name. Ella Gaines,...the obsessed woman from his past. The insane bitch who had tried before to destroy his team almost killing JD and Vin in the process, simply because she wanted Larabee to herself.

Everything fit. Billings comment that Ezra had met the woman at a party. The fact the woman had considered Vin Tanner to be the sole key to achieving her goals.

Like Larabee, Ezra had spent quite a bit of time, contemplating the situation, the woman behind it, her reasoning and the consequences of those actions. He'd been conscious enough during Mark's earlier visit to realize even if they knew where she was, they had no tangible proof against Miss Gaines. No evidence that would hold up in a court of law. They could arrest her, but with nothing solid to show, she would be released. It would be his word against her unless Billings and Slate rolled, which was highly unlikely. He wasn't sure they would even be able to hold her for her previous crimes against the team.

At this point in time it would do no one any good to implicate Ella Gaines, least of all Larabee. And such an action against her would only deepen the woman's resolve to seek further revenge against Larabee's team.

Most likely, just as she had before, the woman would use her varied resources to disappear and Chris would let the guilt of not protecting those he cared about slowly eat away at him.

Ezra Standish could not...would not let that happen

"It was her wasn't it Ezra?" Larabee insisted. "Billings said you recognized her."

Ezra sighed and shifted in the bed. "Unfortunately Mr. Larabee, while she looked vaguely familiar, other than anger that her hired underlings had obviously absconded with the wrong individual, I remember very little about the brief meeting." Standish lied smoothly. He didn't have to feign weariness, as closing his eyes, he settled deeper into the pillows. "If you would be so kind as to advise Captain Johnson I would be happy to try and identify his suspects....as....soon as I get alittle....more sl..eep."

Larabee snorted. "You're losing your touch Ezra. I didn't believe that lie for a minute." Chris didn't notice the small smile which tugged at the sleeping gambler's lips.

*******

"Damn, Ez, I can't believe that hard headed irrational jackass took away my crutches," Tanner mumbled irritably, using the remote to flip through the channels on the muted TV.

Planning on discharging his two team mates that afternoon, Nathan had brought the men their street clothes. He'd helped them dress, careful of the bandages covering their injuries, firmly lecturing them to remain in their respective beds until Chris and the others arrived after their meeting with the judge.

Lucy and Nica were preparing the penthouse, the team having decided among themselves it would be easier for the two invalids if everything was on one floor.

Nate had returned to his work in the ER until the scheduled physician could arrive but he had made it plain before he left their room he didn't want any trouble from the sharpshooter and southerner. He was well versed in the two and their nasty habits of sneaking out of the hospital unless supervised at all times. But just to make sure, he'd taken temptation out of their path.

"Damn," Vin pitched the remote onto Ezra's bed, " I'm hungry. Could really go for a burger and fries."

"I do believe this establishment has a passable cafeteria on the main floor." Ezra commented, closing the book he'd been attempting to read.

"That's fine, Ez, but in case ya forgot, we got no way of gettin' there." Vin grumbled. "Nate won't even let the nurses bring us a wheel chair."

"Have you forgotten, Mr. Tanner, it's your right leg in a cast and my left... Between the two of us, we have a two perfectly good legs with which to get about on." The gambler slowly and unsteadily rose to his feet, motioning the tracker to do the same.

Side by side, tossing an arm around the other's shoulders, using their one legged companion for balance, they carefully made their way across the room, peeking around the door jamb into the hall, to make certain the coast was clear. Giggling and laughing, extremely pleased with themselves as they finally managed to maneuver through the door, they moved unsteadily for the elevator.

"We just need to work out a rhythm." Ezra stated peevishly after nearly tumbling face first to the floor when Vin took a short step.

"Just like the Monkee's."

Ezra turned to stare at the Texan. "Excuse me?"

"You know...That old T.V. show..." Much to the gambler's dismay, the sharpshooter started to sing as they hopped into the elevator. "Here we come, walkin' down the street...Get the funniest looks from everyone we meet….."

*******

"Aw, hell," Vin groaned, the last words of his repeated Monkee's theme song dying on his lips as the elevator doors slid open to reveal five too well known men, blocking their exit. "So much for a decent meal," he muttered to Ezra.

Arms folded over across their chests, Larabee and Josiah seemed to have been just waiting for the escaping team mates.

Nathan was cursing under his breath about hard headed, pain in the ass patients who refused to listen while JD and Buck chortled with laughter at the two men's ingenuity.

"I would hardly call a burger and fries gourmet cuisine, Mr. Tanner." Ezra sighed before meeting Larabee's glare with a winning smile, turning on his southern charm. "Aw, well, gentlemen we were just on our way to...therapy. The hospital staff appeared extremely busy and short handed today so we didn't want to take them away from their duties just to provide us with transportation..."

"Can it, Ezra!" The team leader growled. Trying to control his own laughter at the humorous situation, Chris turned to the doctor. "What'dya think, Nathan? Therapy might not be a bad idea. What'dya say? They can stay another couple days and..."

The men double over laughing as arms over each others shoulders, the Texan and southerner pushed past them and awkwardly hobbled down the corridor toward the exit.

*******

As Tanner and Standish were finally being wheeled into the penthouse's private elevator, Larabee pulled the ringing cell phone from his pocket.

"Larabee," he responded.

"Christopher, you know we belong together. I promise you, darling, no one will keep us apart. If I have to go through Tanner, and Standish, and all the others, I swear to you, we will be together…. "

His face paled as the line went dead…….

THE END

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