Duffel bag in one hand, briefcase in the other, Naval Lieutenant Commander Buck Wilmington stood looking about the parking lot of the Four Corner's Airport. For such a small airport it appeared fairly busy. He should have called for a cab, but never one to overlook the chance to bum a ride from a pretty female, Buck had always cast his luck to the winds and he wasn't about to change now.

His dark gaze swept the lot. It looked like mighty slim pickin's. Most of the passengers and those seeing off or greeting loved ones seemed to be families, but what had he expected?

What had he expected? He frowned. He really wasn't sure. The last few days had been a blur and he still wasn't certain what he was doing back in the States. From out of the blue he had been recalled from his tour in the Gulf, and hustled through all the paperwork in Frisco. Told only that he had TDA and was being re-assigned, he had been given a ticket and ended up here...Bumfuck Colorado. Now what the hell was a Navy pilot and SEAL officer with six million dollars worth of training suppose to do in Colorado?

As far as he knew there wasn't even an active military base close to this town. As soon as he got settled in a motel room, he'd have to call Frisco and see if there hadn't been some sort of mistake. Maybe it had something to do with that bastard Hardesty. 

Hell, he reasoned, might as well make the most of it. Buck Wilmington always landed on his feet. After all, Colorado's mountains were a renowned flocking area for snow bunnies of all colors and sizes. He'd just have to brush up on his down hill techniques...

Looking off at the mountains in the distance, pain filled his dark eyes and a shudder coursed through him as he remembered the last time he had been here. It was a time he would just as soon forget, but knew he never could.

A little over three years ago, his life had drastically altered and he had forfeited his best friend. But, he reasoned, at least being here now, he would have a chance to check on that friend, that is, if the man would even speak to him. If not, like always he would watch over him from a distance.

"There you are!"

He spun on his heel at the voice and his eyes widened in appreciation as his mustache lifted with his wide smile. Blonde, body like a goddess and the face of an angel....

"Yes, darlin' here I am," he exclaimed as she rushed up to him and threw her arms about his neck in a strangle hold. Several passersby smiled at the handsome couple, wondering if the naval officer was returning home or leaving for duty.

He dropped his duffel, briefcase and his jaw, his arms automatically encircling her waist as she planted a full-blown lip-lock on him. He finally had to reach up and disentangle her arms from about his neck just to catch his breath.

"Well, now, darlin'..." Buck stepped back to eye her. Her face didn't look familiar, but that didn't concern him. Hell, most the time he didn't know their names anyway, something he needed to rectify after that Hardesty incident.

"Are you back to stay?" she purred, her voice husky with desire as she hung on him.

"Well, now, darlin', I don't know," he confessed as she grabbed his arm and began dragging him across the lot toward a nearby vehicle...a new shiny cherry red rag top. Not only beautiful, but she had tastes in cars. "Now, sugar, slow down, anticipation just makes it that much more enjoyable," Wilmington half protested as he snagged his luggage and followed.

She stopped by the car, turned and he dropped his gear as she grabbed him again, her slight weight bending him forward as she planted a long deep passionate kiss on his lips.

"What the hell?"

Buck felt himself being slammed back against the metal of the convertible, the sharp door handle gouging into the small of his back. He blinked his eyes open to see a young man coming at him, fists raised, his expression angry, eyes blocked by dark glasses.

Buck raised his hands in surrender. "What's your problem?" he demanded.

The blonde woman let out a screech. "Bobby Joe! Honey, what are ya doin' here?"

Buck eyes widened as he shifted his gaze to the woman, "'Honey'? Ya know him?"

"Know me?" The man moved closer, "That's my wife!" With an angry growl, he slammed Buck against the car again, raising his forearm and shoving it against Wilmington's throat, effectively throttling him.

Wilmington stifled a groan. Damn, he really was going to have to do something about spotting the married ones.

"Don't hurt him, Bobby Joe!" The woman screamed, then Buck heard her low groan, "Not again! You'll go to jail for sure this time!"

Buck's eyes widened even further as he tried to question the 'not again', but his attention was on the young man who reached under his weather-beaten leather jacket and withdrew a SIG pistol.

The pilot's heart was in his throat as the man flicked off the safety and shoved the weapon in the naval officer's face. Buck's quick glance searched the parking lot. He didn't think he would have any trouble disarming the man, but while the lot wasn't as busy as it had been, there was still enough people, if a weapon discharged, even accidentally, an innocent bystander could be hurt.

"Ya wanna 'splain ta me what the hell yer doin' kissin' on my wife?" the younger man hissed, his face in Buck's.

"I-I-I, well, I--" Buck stammered.

"Maybe I jist oughta do somethin' 'bout ya..." A feral smile came to the man's face as he slowly lowered the gun barrel until it was pointed several vital inches below Buck's belt buckle.

Shit! This guy looked just crazy enough to actually pull the trigger! Wilmington's face blanched and he licked at suddenly dry lips, unable to swallow as he heard the gun cock. His mind quickly searched for a peaceful solution. One that hopefully would end up with him keeping intact organs he considered vital and was very attached to. Oh Lord, he tried to remember how to pray as he closed his eyes and waited.

"Hey ya, Buck!"

Wilmington's head jerked up and he opened his eyes at the familiar voice. The last time he had heard that voice, the words had been slurred and angry. He struggled in his attacker's strong grasp, shifting around until he could see over the leather-clad shoulder.

A man was casually leaning on the ragtop's front bumper, blue smoke from a cheroot drifting about his smiling face. "Whatcha up to there, Buck?"

Buck frowned. "Chris?"

The blond man sauntered closer and laid a hand on the attacker's shoulder his smile widening. "Ya shoulda seen yer face!" A genuine laugh bubbled from him.

Laughter. That was something Wilmington had feared he would never hear from this man again.

Thrilled at the sight of his old friend, his would-be assailant forgotten, Buck let out a whoop of joy. Knocking aside the attacker's hold on him, Buck shoved away from the car and gathered Larabee in a bear hug. "Chris, you old war dog! What are you doing here?" He actually swung the lean man up and off his feet.

"Scaring the shit outta yer sorry ass," Chris remarked, grinning as his feet were lowered to the ground and he eased away slightly, never one comfortable with open displays of emotion.

He had greatly enjoyed watching his practical joke play itself out. Buck was his oldest and dearest friend and Chris knew the man as well as he knew his own self, possibly better. If there was one thing Buck appreciated as much as a beautiful, willing young lady, it was a good practical joke.

"I'll be damned!" Buck turned to eye his lanky attacker. "He with you?"

"Yep. Vin Tanner, Buck Wilmington."

Vin nodded acknowledgment as Buck smiled. "What are ya doin' with this ol' reprobate?"

"Scarin' the shit outta ya," Vin drawled softly as he slouched against the car.

Buck laughed good-naturedly, then frantically looked around. "Hey, where did she go? Ain't ya gonna introduce us?"

Chris shook his head in disgust at Vin. "I told ya he was hopeless."

*******

The three men piled into Larabee's black Ford 250 and Chris headed for the dealership. Vin's truck had needed a 75,000-mile tune-up and he had left it, hitching a ride from Larabee. The Texan sat on the back seat as Buck and Chris conversed in the front.

Wilmington was talking about officers and crew from Chris' Navy days and Vin closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back glass. A flicker of envy raced through him as the two friends chatted over old times and places and he realized suddenly, he was odd man out.

Chris listening to Buck happily ramble on sensed the uncomfortable silence from the back seat. On a good day, Tanner seldom spoke, but here and now his silence was almost palatable. The blond glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the bounty hunter had straightened, but it was the man's expression which held Larabee's attention. Lost, lost and pulling back into himself. Damn! Chris swore at himself. He should have seen this happening.

"Vin, I'll drop ya off to get your truck." He drew the quiet man into conversation when Buck stopped long enough to catch his breath. "I need to have this beast checked out. Something's messing up under the dash. Why don't you two grab some pizzas and go on out to your place? I'll meet ya there when I'm done here." He flipped on the blinker and pulled onto the Ford lot.

Tanner caught his eye in the mirror. "Think ya can find it?" he teased with a small lop sided grin.

"Oh, I think so. You'll like Vin's place, Buck. Looks like a great place to go deer hinting."

"The two or four legged kind?" Buck wiggled his eyebrows in jest.

Vin shook his head as he climbed out of the back seat and headed to the service bays to get his truck. Buck snagged his gear from the back.

Chris jerked his chin in the direction of the tracker. "Go easy on him, Buck." There was an undertone of warning in his soft request. Tanner was as bashful and withdrawn, as Buck was boisterous and outgoing.

Buck flashed him a smile. "No prob, ol' buddy."

As the green pickup eased to a stop next to Chris', the blond man reached out his open window and passed several bills to Buck. "That's for the pizza."

"Double crust, everything?" At his nod, Buck teased, "See, I remembered."

With a flip of his hand, Chris drove his truck toward the service bays. After Buck had stowed his gear in the back, and climbed in, the green truck headed out. Chris sat in his idling truck, watching the pickup drive away. Maybe he shouldn't have let those two go off alone, but if they were going to work together, they had to get to know each other. 'Sides his truck had been giving him fits and he needed to have it checked out before it failed him when he needed it most.

He took one last look at the green truck disappearing down the road, a flash of worry washing over him. Buck had the biggest heart of anyone Larabee knew, was totally open and honest, but he could also be a bit overwhelming. He held nothing back, letting those around him know exactly what was on his mind, whether they wanted to or not. With a sigh, Chris realized if Buck didn't alienate Tanner completely, he would be a good influence on the shy tracker.

*******

Pizza boxes on the back seat, a couple of six packs on the floor, the green Ford truck sped up the highway, the two strangers inside uncomfortable with the silence between them. Attempting to break the tension, Vin punched the CD player and Garth Brooks' voice sprang from the speakers.

Buck held his silence, then, after several long moments, remarked, "You like that cow shit music?"

Vin bristled. "Beats roll and rock," he growled.

"Figured you for one of them new age types," Buck muttered, then fell silent as he slouched down in the seat.

The strains of Garth's songs was the only sound in the cab for the next thirty miles.

At the turn for the cutoff to his cabin, Vin finally eased up, not pushing the truck on the newly graveled road.

Buck straightened, his dark eyes taking notice of his surroundings in the late afternoon sunlight. "You live way out here?" he questioned incredulously.

Vin nodded. "Yep."

From the corner of his eye, Wilmington examined the man driving. His thin, almost skinny appearance disguised a steely strength in that lanky body. Sun-lightened auburn hair hung past his shoulders and curled slightly, but it was his intense blue eyes which drew a person's attention.

"And I thought Chris' homestead was wilderness..." He glanced at the young man behind the wheel. "You ever been out there?" he pried, wondering where and how this man fit into his old friend's life.

Vin shook his head. "Nope."

Buck frowned. "Don't talk much, do ya?"

Tanner shot him a sideways hooded look, which clearly said that remark didn't even deem a response.

Buck didn't seem to notice. "So, how'd you and Chris hook up?"

Tanner chewed his lip as he maneuvered over a deep rut in the track. He wasn't quite sure how to answer the man's question, or even if he wanted to. He didn't want to discuss the night he had met Larabee, not to someone he hardly knew. It was none of his business. "He found me."

Buck snorted. "A stray, huh? Chris always was good about pickin' up strays."

Blue eyes flashed with hurt, but Vin did not respond.

Wilmington didn't see the momentary hurt his offhanded comment had unintentionally caused and he neglected to mention that in his own way, he himself was one of Chris' foundlings.

When the longhaired man didn't rise to the bait, Buck fell silent and turned to study the scenery passing by outside the passenger window. His thoughts drifted back to Chris.

Damn, but it was good to see his old friend! The last time he had seen the man, Larabee had been lost in a sea of alcohol, yet today, while it seemed he had lost weight, Buck had seen the clear eyes and healthy complexion. He had gotten a glimpse of the man Larabee had been before that horrific night three years earlier.

He gave the quiet man behind the wheel another sidelong glance. Did this man have something to do with Larabee's improvement? Had he been able to do what Buck himself had been unable to? Had Tanner pulled Chris back from the gates of Hell? Buck, a pang of jealousy sparking, wasn't sure if he liked the man yet, but if he had been instrumental in Chris' new outlook on life, then if nothing else, Tanner would always have his undying gratitude.

Tanner was lost in his own thoughts, wondering what would happen now that Wilmington had arrived. Would he accept Chris' offer? Vin knew this man beside him was Larabee's oldest friend. He had heard the happiness in the blond man's voice when he spoke of his long time friend and had seen the undisguised joy in his hazel eyes as they had watched Buck stroll through the airport.

Although he knew the connection between Larabee and he had been instantaneous, Chris had a long history with Wilmington. Tanner's own friendship with Larabee was too new, still too fragile in its early development. What would Buck's return do to that budding trust?

*******

Chris frowned as he floored the loaner car, pissed he'd had to leave his new truck at the shop. The repairman felt there was something wrong with the on board computer and he needed to run a series of tests. Not wanting to call Vin to come all the way back and pick him up, Larabee had agreed to use one of the shop's loaners.

Griping about a brand new truck spending more time in the repair bay than on the road, he had begrudgingly accepted the keys to the compact car and settled his body into it with a groan. Wheeling out of the lot, he headed for Vin's, hoping there would be pizza left when he arrived.

As the little car hummed along, he wondered how the two men were getting along without him. He knew Buck could grate on a person's nerves with his constant cheerfulness and motor mouth. He would be lucky if Vin hadn't killed him and buried his body by the time Chris got there.

Larabee made the turn on the long gravel road and the little low slung car lurched over the rough spots. Damn, he missed the big truck's easy ride. He had forgotten how washboard rough little cars could ride. He'd need new kidneys if he had to keep this car for long.

Intent on maneuvering the low vehicle around the ruts, he did not see the dark sedan, which turned down the road behind him.

Less than a mile up the road, where the gravel sloped off to reveal a steep drop off into a line of closely growing pines, the sedan sped up and the last thing Chris saw was the grill emblem in his rear view mirror as the larger car slammed into the little vehicle, forcing it off the road.

Larabee fought with the wheel, but the loose gravel gave no traction and the compact car hit the edge, hung for half a heartbeat before going over the steep incline where it rolled half a dozen times before coming to rest on its side in the line of trees. 

*******

Buck snagged the pizzas from the back seat and followed the quiet Texan up the porch steps and into the cabin. He whistled as he came to a stop just inside. "Nice place," he conceded.

Vin nodded as he moved to grab three plates from the cabinet and two cold beers from the fridge, adding the new six packs. He pitched a cold one to Buck.

Wilmington caught it and popped the top as he settled on the couch, his gaze moving over the living area. "You buy this place?" he questioned, curious how a man who looked like he barely had two nickels to rub together could have money for a place like this.

Tanner shook his head, mumbling. "Built it."

Wilmington's eyes widened. "You built this," he waved the can in the general direction of the walls, "with your own hands?"

The ex-bounty hunter eyed him somberly, "And a hammer and saw."

The pilot looked at him a long moment, then laughed out loud as he took a swallow of beer. The kid was hiding a wicked sense of humor behind that somber expression.

"You might do, Tanner." He took another swallow then, staring at the can, he questioned, "What's Chris planning on doing?"

Vin stared at him with guarded eyes, but didn't speak.

"Look, I done figured out it was Chris that got me assigned here. What for?" he demanded, staring hard at the longhaired man. "I mean, give me a little credit. My orders don't say where or who I'm to report to and there's ol' Chris waiting at the airport for me when I didn't even know until just before I boarded the plane where I was even going. Not to mention having time to set up that practical joke of his. Good job, by the way. So, what's up?"

Vin shrugged. "That's for Chris to say."

"You don't know?" Buck prodded.

"Chris' business, not mine," Tanner pointed out, falling silent as he nursed his beer and awaited Larabee's arrival, thinking it couldn't be soon enough for him.

Buck conceded defeat. Obviously the man could be as closed mouthed as Larabee. "I got a set of civvies in my duffel. Mind if I change before Chris gets here?"

Vin nodded, motioning towards the bathroom and quietly watched as the other man left the room.

*******

Chris opened his eyes with a painful groan. He quickly closed them, and tried to mentally access his body. God, he hurt all over! Struggling, he forced his eyes open and tried to focus, frowning in consternation when everything appeared to be on an angle. It finally soaked in he was still strapped in his seat belt and the little car was on its side.

His left shoulder was rammed against the side window and the airbag lay deflated in front of him, He fumbled for the seat belt release and cried out in agony as his right arm refused to work. Looking down, he saw the elbow was jutting at a strange angle. 'Broke," his mind screamed, but the pain hadn't fully set in yet.

His head was a different story. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Not even his worse hangover had ever felt this badly. He struggled to focus his gaze on something and saw the spangled broken glass of the windshield. Beyond it, everything was green in the last fading light of day.

He had to get out, his mind urged over the throbbing pain in his head. He needed help. Help.... He vaguely remembered his cell phone. It had been in his jacket pocket and he had pitched it on the passenger seat when he had climbed in. Slowly swiveling his head to keep the pain from increasing, he saw his jacket stuck between the two seats.

Slowly, carefully, he inched to the side, and using his left hand, after a fashion, and much agony, he grasped the sleeve and dragged it closer. It seemed like hours before he finally had the slim phone in his hand. He clung to it, even as darkness closed in on him. Fumbling, biting his lip, he managed to flip it open and after half a dozen tries he punched the one number he had put on speed dial. Vaguely, as if from a great distance, he heard it ringing....

*******

Impatient, starting to worry, Vin paced the living area. Unless the truck had a major problem, Chris should have shown up by now. He was sure the older man would have called if he needed a ride. He reached for the phone intending to call and see if Chris had left yet. His instincts were screaming something wasn't right, and he'd learned long ago to trust his instincts. As his fingers closed around his cell phone, it rang, startling him. "'Lo.."

It was an open line, but no one responded. He frowned. "Hello?"

There was no response and he was reaching to cut the connection when he heard the faint sound. His heart began beating rapidly, as he was sure he had heard something.

"'in?"

Blue eyes widened and he stopped pacing, his abrupt action catching Buck's attention. "What...?"

Vin waved him to silence with a curt hand motion. "Hello...."

"'in....." it was a mere whisper.

Tanner's heart stopped as he recognized the weak, barely audible voice. "Chris? Chris, is that you? Chris...what's wrong"

"..h'rt....."

"Chris," a strident tone came to the younger man's voice. "Chris, where are ya?"

"..ro'd.... 'elp me....." the words drifted off and Vin swung about to face Buck, his face ashen.

"What's going on?" Buck demanded as he pushed to his feet and moved toward the tracker. "Tanner, what's wrong?"

Vin gave him a hard look before focusing back on the phone in his hand. "Chris-- answer me! Where are ya?....Chris!"

"Damnit, Tanner!" Buck grabbed for the phone, but Vin stepped away and the officer's hand grabbed nothing but empty air.

Giving the older man a look of pure disgust, phone to his ear, listening for any sound, Vin began pulling blankets from the storage chest. Abstractly he recalled they were the same blankets Chris had used when he had stayed over. Had it only been a few weeks ago? It seemed like ages. He grabbed a well-stocked first-aid kit from a shelf, added several heavy-duty halogen flashlights, and then reached to take his lever action rifle from its place on the wall. Bundling all the items together, he dug in his jeans' pocket for his keys and headed for the door, the phone still pressed to his ear.

"What the hell...?" Buck scrambled after him, grabbing the smaller man's arm and spinning him around, almost causing him to drop the items. "Please, Tanner! Is that Chris? What's going on? Tell me, damnit!"

The fierce look on Tanner's face caused the other man to drop his hand. There was anger in the flashing blue eyes and something more--fear. Fear for Chris.

"Chris's hurt...wrecked." With two long strides, he pulled open a drawer and pitched a second cell phone to Buck. "Call 911, the highway patrol...he could be anywhere between here and town. Call the hospital. The number's locked in the phone's directory." He hesitated, then added, "Ask for Nathan Jackson in the ER. Tell him it's Chris."

He abruptly spun, and hurried out the door.

It was the most Buck had heard him say since meeting him and it was because Chris was in trouble. The naval officer stared at the younger man's disappearing back through the screen, then with long strides, Buck hurried after him, slamming the door behind him.

"You ain't going without me!" he growled, scrambling off the porch and into the passenger side of the truck even as Vin threw the items on the back seat and climbed in.

Hastily dialing the emergency number, Buck ignored the infuriated look Tanner shot at him as he started the truck and threw it in gear. Truth be known, Vin wouldn't have respected him if Wilmington had stayed behind.

Vin still held the cell with the open line to Chris. He hadn't heard Larabee say anything else, but he had listened to ragged painful breathing and pain filled moans. Now, even that had quieted. His eyes hooded as his brow furrowed, refusing to think the worst.

He heard Buck repeating the directions Vin gave him on the roads Chris would have taken from town, a slight smile curving the younger man's lips as Buck informed the person on the other end of the line he didn't give a damn whether they thought it would help, if they didn't have someone out searching the road on the way to Tanner's, he would personally hunt them down and they wouldn't live to regret it. Giving them the number with instructions to call if they found Larabee, Buck hung up and called the hospital.

Vin wanted to race the truck the length of the gravel road, but he took several deeps breaths and eased it along, checking everything in the headlights' sweep. He dug up one of the halogens and aimed it out the window, searching the side of the road and the steep drop-off that lined the rustic drive. Every little bit, his heart in his throat, he spoke Chris' name into the phone, hoping his friend would answer and at least would be able to tell them how close he had been to the house before the wreck, but he received no response.

He was so intent on searching he had forgotten Buck was in the truck until the man pitched the other cell on the dash, the clattering of the device loud in the cab. Grabbing the other light, Buck began searching his side as the truck eased slowly down the road.

Vin, using his shoulder, kept the phone pressed to his ear, praying Chris would talk to him again used one hand to steer, the other to hold the light, sweeping its beam over the roadside and wooded area, looking for any sign of Larabee. Seeing Wilmington doing the same, he shot the man an unseen grateful look, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

"Damnit!" The one word rang in the cab as Vin slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a sliding halt.

"What?" Buck jerked his gaze from the roadside.

"His phone went dead!" He threw his phone aside in disgust. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" He pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

Night had fallen and low dark clouds were scuttling across the sky. Dampness hung in the air, portent of rain to come. A strong chilly breeze was blowing through the truck's open windows, and Vin kicked the heater on low, his long fingers fumbling with the switches as he worried if Chris was out in the weather.

With no other options, they drove through the drizzling downpour, which just seemed to intensify the night's darkness. Sweeping the halogen's beam of light along the roadside, Vin searched his side of the road as Buck did the same on the passenger side. Neither of them spoke, and then softly, in the oppressive silence of the truck, Buck, not taking his gaze from the roadside, muttered, "Could be anywhere..."

"We'll find him." Logic dictated Larabee had gotten to the road that twisting up the mountain towards Tanners before the accident. If he'd wrecked on the highway, surely someone would have seen it.

Buck jerked his head around, staring at the younger man in the back glow of the light. The conviction in the man's voice startled him, but it was the words which rocked him. Not "I'll find..." but 'we..." They were in this together. Searching for a friend who needed their help.

He automatically started to make a smart mouthed retort, but bit it off and softly questioned, "How long ya known Chris?"

The kid's blue eyes stayed glued to the roadside, glancing at the road in front only long enough to keep the truck in the middle, and Buck turned back to his side to search, sure Tanner wasn't going to answer.

Then lowly, Tanner responded. "More'an month." He had had to think on it first. It seemed so much longer.

Wilmington frowned. For some reason, he had gotten the impression they were old acquaintances. They had that familiar comfortable air of old friends. Old friends...he felt a sharp twinge of pain cut through him. At one time, he and Chris had had that old familiar comfortable air.

At one time, they had been closer than brothers...Once, a life time ago. Buck missed that more than he cared to admit, even to himself. Seeing Chris at the airport, he had thought he might have another opportunity to retrieve that closeness, and now, it seemed as if that opportunity might be snatched from his grasp.

They were still friends, they had been through too much together not to be, but there was a distance to Chris these past years. With Sarah and Adam's deaths, he had kept everyone at arm's length, afraid of closeness, afraid of being hurt, afraid of being weak if he needed or leaned on friendship. He had turned to the bottle after his family's deaths and that was the only thing he had wanted to lean on. But now, Buck had a sneaking suspicion Chris had discovered he needed more.

He could still hear Chris' words 'go easy on him, Buck' echoing in his ears. A slight subtle warning, hinting at retribution if anything happened to the young man. Chris knew Buck wouldn't intentionally cause Tanner any kind of hurt, at least, he should have known. He had been warning Wilmington this person was special and someone he was concerned about.

Obviously Chris had seen something in the other man....And Buck felt that twinge of loss again, and of envy, as well. This longhaired man sitting beside him was now closer to Larabee than he was. The pang of loss cut deep, but he realized Chris had to get on with his life. God, how many times had he voiced those very words to Larabee over the years? At least Tanner didn't conjure up memories of Sarah and Adam, memories Buck knew still tore at the older man with guilt and regret. Maybe Tanner would be good for him...get his mind on something besides himself and his losses....

"So, what do ya do?" Buck questioned, curious about this man who had become so important to Chris. If this young man who so obliviously cared for his old friend was to be a part of Larabee's life then Buck would do everything in his power to help and he knew the first step would be to get to know him better.

Vin's gaze stayed glued on the roadside. He knew Wilmington wasn't just being nosy, but was trying to keep both their thoughts from what might be happening to their mutual friend. To his own surprise, he found himself liking the Navy officer and for reasons yet unknown to him, he did not want to see in him the reaction he usually got when he answered that question.

It seemed most people tended to view bounty hunters on a slightly higher level than the criminals they sought. Most people believed men like himself, who performed a necessary evil, wanted only the rewards, never giving thought to the fact their efforts allowed victims, family and friends closure each time they brought a criminal to justice. "Fugitive recovery."

"Huh?"

"Bounty hunter," Vin clarified.

Buck's eyebrows arched in the dark truck. At least the kid wasn't a shrinking violet. He had heard and read about some of the low life scum that bounty hunters tracked and retrieved for the court system. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about someone watching Chris' back when he got transferred again.

"That how ya met Chris?" he pried, adding with a grin, "I didn't even know he was wanted."

"Nope." Vin didn't elaborate, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he turned his attention and both hands to the wheel to fight the truck over a deep rut in the road. Clearing the rough place, he swung the halogen light back outside the window. He suddenly slammed on the brakes and the big truck slue around sideways in the loose rock. He was out of the truck and running to the edge of the steep drop off several yards away.

Buck jumped out of the truck and followed him, hearing his frantic, "Oh, no!" as he pulled up short at the edge. His dark eyes locked on what Tanner had seen: the displaced gravel and soil, broken branches and scraped bark from saplings at the side of the road. The older man played his light down the slope and across the trees.

The light winked on something bright....a hubcap, and as Vin's light merged with his, they made out the mangled shape of a small car resting on its side in the tree line. The hood was braced against a large tree which had kept the vehicle from rolling onto its top or further down the steep slope.

The Texan didn't hesitate as he scrambled over the edge, sliding, losing his balance, sliding again, then scrambling back to his feet and rushing the rest of the way down the slope to the damaged vehicle.

Buck started to follow, then ran back to the truck. Grabbing the cell phone from the dash, he frantically dialed 911 even as he was grabbing the first aid kit and blankets from the back seat. Clutching the items, he hurried back to the edge and could see Tanner's light bobbing about as the hunter worked closer to the wreck.

Vin froze, his hand on the cold wet metal of the wrecked car as the flash's bright beam highlighted the car's interior through the spider-webbed windshield. His heart dropped as he recognized the motionless shape of a blond man--Chris.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard and climbing onto the vehicle, bracing himself as best as possible, he grasped the door handle and pulled. It refused to open and he struggled with it a moment more before realizing his fierce onslaught wasn't enough against the crushed metal. Clearing away the last of the missing glass from the window, he wiggled on his belly to reach further inside the vehicle. He stretched out his shaking hand to touch Larabee's shoulder.

"Chris?" he whispered. As his fingers touched the man, Chris flinched and moaned and Vin let out a long held breath.

"Hang on, Chris," he urged, "we'll get ya outta here," he promised as he wiggled backward. Straightening, he aimed his flashlight at the top of the slope. "He's alive!" His voice carried to Buck. "Gotta get him outta here!" Even at a distance, he could see the relief wash over the other man at his words.

Buck's voice boomed down at him, "Tanner, don't move him! There's an ambulance on the way!"

Vin once again wiggled closer, reaching out, trying to reassure Chris with the sense of touch, not knowing what to say or even if the other man could hear him. He wanted Chris to know he wasn't alone, that they had found him and help was on its way. He could feel the older man shivering in pain and cold under his hand and he bit his lip, fighting the wetness, which gathered, in his blue eyes.

Not again! He couldn't go though this again! He hadn't known Chris as long as he had Jamie, but somehow he felt closer to this man as if he had known him for an eternity. He couldn't stand the thought of losing this friend he had just let into his life.

Movement registered beside him and he half-turned to see Buck. Dashing at his eyes with the back of his hand least the naval officer see his tears, Vin focused on Wilmington.

"Ambulance'll be here soon," Buck assured him as he played his light over the interior through the shattered windshield, and the bloody faced man within.

"Aw, hell, Chris, whatcha do to yourself this time?" he lamented. As soon as Vin carefully tucked one of the blankets around Larabee, he draped one of the others over the opened window to try and keep the wetness from blowing in on his injured friend.

Neither man spoke, their worried eyes on their friend, their silent prayers and fears mingling. It seemed like hours before they heard the wail of sirens in the far off distance.

"They're almost here, Chris. Ya just hang on," Vin whispered, trying to put as much encouragement into his voice as he could muster. Buck silently echoed the plea.

Both men turned grateful eyes toward the roadway as the unit pulled to a stop by the Ford truck and the paramedics, loaded with gear, scrambled rapidly down the wet slope toward them.

*******

Buck watched the younger man pace the waiting room floor. He shifted on the hard plastic seat and tried to make himself comfortable. He continued to study his companion, a frown creasing his face.

It had taken the EMTs nearly an hour to extract Chris from the mangled car. He could still see the younger man standing to the side, out of the medics' way as they worked to free his friend, his arms wrapped about his chest as if he were in pain himself. Knowing there was nothing he could say at the moment to make the younger man feel any better, Buck had simply wrapped one of the blankets about him, forcing the edges into his clenched fists. Tanner had stood in the rain, water running from his long hair and down his face as he had silently watched them, his body taunt with worry, as they had freed Chris and strapping him on a backboard, carefully carried him up the slope.

Snatches of the medics words had drifted to them "....dislocated shoulder....possible broken arm....concussion..." It was a lot better than it looked, Buck realized as he slowly moved around the crumpled vehicle to follow the paramedics.

His flashlight beam shone over the wrecked car. His dark gaze had flickered over, then returned to the back of vehicle, widening then narrowing suspiciously at the sight of the crushed back bumper. Scrapes of dark paint, obscene against the car's own light color, evidenced Chris' vehicle had been struck. He started to call Tanner over, but the look on the man's face as he finally moved to scramble up the slope, stopped him. The kid had enough on his mind at the moment.

Buck had pulled several flakes of the paint from the car, slipping them between two papers he found in the pocket of his jacket, before he'd hurried after Tanner. Seeing the man's vacant stare locked on the ambulance, he had half-shoved him to the passenger side of the truck.

"Get in, I'm driving," he ordered softly. The fact Tanner did as he was told without protest was telling in itself. Buck already knew him well enough to realize the smaller man would normally have put up a fight.

And now, they were seated in the small ER waiting room, the only people other than staff at this late hour. Over an hour had passed since their arrival and they still had no word on Larabee's condition.

A nurse had materialized earlier, giving Vin a sheaf of papers, with instructions to fill them out completely.

Sitting, papers clutched loosely in his hands, Vin had stared at the forms with a vacant expression. Full name, date of birth, martial status, next of kin....

With a small shake of his head, Buck had gently taken the papers from the younger man and settling next to him, quickly filled out the required information which he knew as well as he knew his own. Leaving Tanner sitting alone, he returned the forms back to the nurse with whom he shamefully flirted even though she wore a wedding band.

Old habits were hard to break.

Moving back into the waiting room, Buck studied the younger man who waited with him. Tanner paced the floor incessantly his arms wrapped about his chest almost as if he were attempting to hold himself together. On the few occasions their eyes had met, Buck had seen the raw fear in the vivid blue depths. Wilmington knew that look. He had seen it enough times in the mirror to know that this incident had left Tanner vulnerable to demons from his own past.

Now, as he viewed the man still walking the floor, he saw the lanky form shiver, and belatedly he realized they were both soaked to the skin. He left long enough to charm some towels and a dry blanket from the nurse and returned with the precious items, as well as two cups of hot coffee. He pitched one of the towels to Tanner who blinked in surprise as he grabbed the cloth from the air and slowly began toweling his long hair.

"Here," Buck shoved one of the cups towards him and Tanner draped the towel about his neck to accept it. The older man could see the kid's hands were shaking as he sipped at the hot liquid and he knew it wasn't from delayed shock, but from fear. He had read the undeniable emotion on the lean face...Fear for Chris. Removing the wet towel, Buck gently draped a blanket once again around the man's thin shoulders, giving him a reassuring smile.

Part of Buck realized why Tanner was terrified. As the naval officer had been waiting, he had fidgeted with the cell phone he'd absently carried with him. Curious, he had checked the speed dial and there was only one number entered. He punched it, a small smile playing on his face as he heard Chris' answering machine pick up. God, the man hadn't changed his message in years.

For some reason, Larabee was Tanner's life line. Somewhere along the way, his reserved distant friend who gave a rat's ass about no one and nothing since that disastrous night his world had collapsed, had seen something in the lanky Texan worth befriending. Something in the bounty hunter had reached out and sparked his concern.

Reached out--the thought warmed Buck. Since Chris had pushed him away, the blond had been alone, wrestling with his own demons, not wanting anyone near him, wanting no one close enough to worry or fret about. Wilmington had done his best to reach his friend and keep him from going completely over the edge, but knew it had not been enough. He had exhausted every second of leave he could beg, borrow, or steal, called in favors from everyone he could think of and even considered resigning, but Chris had just gotten angrier and pushed him farther away.

When Buck had finally returned to duty, he'd called Chris several times, always getting the machine and just last week he had mailed another letter. A letter a week for how many years now? He had never received an answer, but they hadn't been returned either. Buck had always hoped that was a good sign, but deep down, he always pictured Chris tossing them into the trash unopened. Somehow this lanky quiet kid hadn't been shoved away or ignored. Something in him struck a chord with Larabee...

And now, that younger man was afraid of Chris losing his life and something more. Something Buck saw every time he looked in those honest blue eyes. Tanner was afraid of Wilmington. Afraid of what his return would with do to his budding friendship with Chris. Afraid the old friend would usurp the place he was trying to fill. Afraid he was going to lose that friendship which he so desperately needed and wanted.

Buck would somehow have to let Tanner know that wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let it happen. Hopefully, neither of them would have to give up the friendship which meant so much to each of them, but if it came down to a choice, Buck would step aside. Chris needed this kid. He needed to once again have someone to look after, and to help.

With a long drawn out sigh, Buck pushed to his feet and crossed the room to stand by the younger man. "Ya done wore a path in the carpet, Tanner. Why don't you sit down, and give the floor a rest?"

Vin shot him a pained expression, but continued pacing, the paper cup clutched in his hands in a death grip as if that flimsy item could help him maintain his hold on his sanity.

Gently, Wilmington reached out and grabbed his arm, "C'mon, Tanner. Chris'll be fine."

Tanner pulled away, sloshing the coffee over his hand, as he turned worried blue eyes to the bigger man, looking for reassurance. Searching for, wanting, needing reassurance.

Buck gave him a small grin. "Chris is a survivor, Vin....Hell he oughta go on that show..." It was the first time since being introduced he had used the younger man's given name. "I remember one time me and him crashed in..." he rambled on, distracting the man as he gently eased him down into one of the chairs.

He was half way though the story when the door opened and a nurse entered. She glanced from one to the other as they gained their feet and approached her. "You're waiting for Mr. Larabee? He's being moved to recovery until all the test results are in and then he'll be moved to a private room. It's merely a precaution. The doctor will want to keep an eye on him tonight because of the concussion." Buck nodded, seeing Tanner lean back against the wall, as if he needed something solid behind him if it was bad news. "Are either of you family?"

The pilot hesitated, then with a slight grin, pulled Tanner away from the wall and shoved him toward the nurse. Only family was permitted in the recovery rooms and he knew Tanner needed to see Chris, if only to put his own mind at ease. "Vin here's his half brother," he lied easily, smiling wider at the shocked look Tanner gave him.

"Well, Mr. Larabee is going to be fine." She pat Vin's arm. "As soon as he is settled, I'll come back and get you." She smiled again. "Don't worry, your brother is going to be just fine."

The door had opened and a slim black man entered, hearing the last of the nurse's words. He frowned as he looked from Buck to Tanner and back again. He stepped aside to let the nurse exit, then approached Buck.

"Brothers?" His eyebrows arched. "I don't think so." He nodded toward Tanner who had sat down, his head in his hands, staring at the floor. "How did you ever get him through the doors?"

Buck hesitated, then decided to come clean. "Okay, I knew it was the only way Tanner could see him. He needs that. He needs to see that Chris is going to be okay."

The black man smiled, "Ya coulda asked me." He offered his hand. "Nathan Jackson. You must be Wilmington. We spoke on the phone."

Tanner, hearing his voice stood and crossed to grasp Nathan's arm. "How's Chris...really?"

Nathan pat his shoulder, taking in the worry in the blue eyes. "Nothing a couple of weeks' worth of rest won't cure. Probably not half as bad as you were, Mr. Tanner."

Vin nodded once and dropped back down in one of the nearby chairs as Buck motioned Jackson to one side. He lowered his voice. "You're sure Chris is gonna be okay?" He released a sigh of relief when Nate nodded. "Kid there's worried sick about him. I take it you know them both?" he pried.

"Sorta." He shrugged. "I helped Chris out when he found Tanner."

"Found him?" Those were the same words Vin had used, and it piqued his curiosity as to just how the two men had met, but didn't feel now was the time to delve into that.

Nate rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, seemed Tanner had been assaulted and Chris found him in the middle of the road hurt. He was too stubborn to go to the ER so Chris called me to check him out."

"What have I told ya 'bout picking up strays, Chris," Buck muttered under his breath. "So," he spoke up, "You've known them what, about a month then?" He wanted to verify what Tanner had told him.

Nate nodded. "Yeah, about that." He eyed the bigger man. "And who might you be other than the man who yells on the phone and threatens total strangers."

"Buck Wilmington. Me and Chris go way back. I just got into town."

"Helluva an introduction to town. You staying long?"

Buck shrugged. "Depends. Go where the Navy sends me." He turned to look at Tanner and frowned. "What did ya mean when you said I got him through the doors?"

Nathan smiled. "More 'an Chris could do. Man had a concussion, cracked ribs, needed stitches and he refused to let Chris bring him here. Even pulled a gun on him." He lowered his voice. "Course I got curious and did some checking. Pulled up that boy's records and he's spent more time in the ER than that Clooney fella." He shook his head again. "Well, Chris hung around, kept an eye on him and...." he trailed off.

"Yeah..." Buck responded realizing the old Chris never had been one to leave a hurt stray to fend for itself. Maybe, just maybe that part of him was coming back to the fore he thought as he moved to sit down next to the longhaired man.

"How ya doin' there, pard?" he questioned softly, worry filling his dark eyes.

Vin looked up, surprise evident at the genuine concern he heard in Buck's voice. "I-I'm fine." He focused on Jackson, as if seeing him for the first time. "Hey, Nathan."

"Vin. Looks like you've had a rough night, huh?" Nathan remarked, bringing a sad smile to the kid's face.

"Not as bad as Chris," he whispered.

"Chris is gonna be just fine. In fact, I'll bet that nurse there is gonna let you go see that for yourself."

Tanner looked up to see the friendly nurse motioning for him from the door. He looked from Nate to Buck and when they both nodded, he slowly pushed to his feet and with tentative steps followed the nurse down the hallway.

*******

Vin slowly opened the door as the nurse quietly told him he had five minutes. He entered the dimly lit room, his eyes adjusting then centering on all the medical equipment surrounding the single bed. God, he had forgotten just how much he hated being in a room like this, surrounded by all the machines and their noises...noises which sometimes were the only indication a patient was alive.

He shook his head, licked his lips and leaned against the closed door behind him. Squaring his shoulders, trying to draw his remaining courage around him, with soundless steps, he approached the bed his blue eyes never moving from Chris' pale face highlighted by the glow of the over the headboard light.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, watching closely for the rise and fall of the older man's chest. Seeing it, he stretched out a trembling hand and touched the blanketed leg. It twitched under his fingers and his relieved sigh filled the room.

His concerned blue eyes swept over Larabee, taking in the bulk of bandages under the blanket covering the older man's chest, the cast on his right arm, the stain of betadyne on the cuts on the man's face. Larabee was battered and bruised, but he was alive.

Vin moved closer, sidling between the monitors and the bed, to stand looking down on Larabee's untroubled face. Something teased at the edges of his memory and casting back over the blur of the previous evening it suddenly hit him.

Chris had called him. Hurt and alone, the older man had reached out to him. Why? Surely there were other people, other friends he could have called. Of course he didn't have a way to reach Wilmington. He knew the man was at Vin's, but it had been Vin he had asked for. Why had he called Vin instead of 911?

"Why?"

He wasn't aware he had spoken the word aloud until he saw Larabee's eyelashes flutter and his eyes cracked open. He turned his head slightly toward the younger man and frowned.

"Vin?" he rasped out the name.

"Yeah, cowboy," he responded, relief in his hushed words.

Chris swallowed and moved his head against the pillow, struggling to open his eyes wider. "What happened?" he slurred out, fighting the sedatives in his system.

"Ya wrecked on the road." Vin laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Doc says yer gonna be fine. I checked with Nathan just ta be sure. He said couple weeks' rest, y’all be good as new."

"W-wrecked?" he shook his head with a grimace. "Didn't.... G-got ran off the r-road..."

Vin's eyes widened. "Ya sure?"

Chris nodded wearily. "Dark car, two people." He closed his eyes.

Vin caught his lower lip in his teeth and chewed on it as a thought stabbed through him. That road led nowhere except to his place. If Chris was hurt because.....He pushed the thought away as Chris struggled to say more.

"Tell Buck... my place...." He lost the battle with the pain medication and drifted off.

Vin stared down at him, assuring himself he was just asleep, then with a comforting touch to Larabee's shoulder, he silently slipped from the room.

*******

Buck was waiting and looked up expectedly as the lean Texan moved down the hallway toward the exit doors. He fell in step beside him, waiting for the younger man to speak and when he didn't, he impatiently demanded, "Well?"

Vin looked around, blinking several times as he realized he wasn't alone. "Huh?" His thoughts were miles and years away.

Buck gave him an exasperated look. "Well, how is he? Ya see for yourself he's okay?"

"Yeah." He strode toward the exit doors, then turned back. "He wants yer ta stay at his place," he remarked almost as an afterthought.

"He want me to do his laundry and clean the barn, too?" Buck groused good-naturedly.

Vin shook his head, completely missing the weak joke. "Didn't say."

Buck frowned at the Texan's distraction, but fell in step beside him. "Nathan said they'll keep him doped up tonight and he'd do nothing, but sleep so guess there's no reason to hang around and watch him snore, unless you want to." If the kid wanted, they'd spend the night sleeping in the waiting room chairs. Whatever it took to make the younger man feel better.

Tanner shook his head.

"Good, cause I need a lift out to Chris' place."

"I don't know--" Vin began.

"I do. C'mon. He grabbed the longhaired man's arm and dragged him through the doors and toward the truck. "I'm starved! Knew we shoulda ate the pizza."

*******

Vin paused by the truck, digging in the pocket of his jeans for his keys. A frown furrowed his brow as he came up empty-handed. He glanced back at the hospital and when he looked around, Buck was dangling the keys in front of his face.

"Lookin' for these?" He grinned.

Vin flushed, embarrassment staining his stubbled cheeks. He should have remembered Wilmington had driven to the hospital, as his own eyes had never left the emergency vehicle they'd followed, his thoughts on what was happening with the injured man strapped to the stretcher. He snatched the keys and unlocking the doors, climbed in.

Buck settled in the passenger seat. "Nice truck. Good ride," he admitted as he snapped his seat belt.

Vin nodded as he started the engine and flipped on the wipers to combat the drizzling rain, which still fell. He put the truck in gear and looked at the older man. "Well?"

"Well what?" Buck looked up from playing with the reclining seat.

"Which way?" Vin asked, irritated with the other man's neglectful disposition. How could he be so damned relaxed? His best friend was lying in a hospital bed after nearly getting killed and here Wilmington was acting like it was an everyday occurrence.

"Oh, make a left and go out highway 249."

Vin silently mouthed the instruction and headed in that direction as Buck kicked back the seat and closed his eyes, hoping his nonchalant attitude would help the younger man relax. If he thought Buck wasn't worried about Chris, maybe it would ease his own fears. The only sounds were the engine whine and the flop-flop of the wipers struggling to keep the window clear. The lights of the city disappeared behind them and the truck was the only vehicle cutting through the early morning darkness. The green glow of the dash clock read 12:28. It had been a long day.

"Turn left up there." Buck's voice shattered the stillness of the 45-minute drive.

Tanner jumped. He hadn't realized his passenger was even awake. Vin eased up on the gas. "Here?"

"Yes, here," Buck growled, straightening in the seat as Vin flipped on his blinker and made a wide slow turn to the left onto a hard packed dirt road.

Pulling his gaze from the unfamiliar road, Vin glanced at Buck. "Yer sure?"

Wilmington nodded. "Course I'm sure! I spent as much time at this old farm as I did on the base! Watch, the road curves left, then right, and you can see the house and barns...."

Sure enough, two turns later, an old two-story farmhouse came into view. In the darkness, the headlights swept over several outbuildings.

"What did I tell ya!" Buck smiled as he lightly punched Tanner in the arm ignoring the veiled look of disgust Vin shot him at the man's brashness as he eased up the wide drive and parked by the back porch.

"How ya gonna get in?" Vin questioned as he killed the engine. He didn't relish the idea of breaking into Larabee's home.

"Ah ha..." Buck dangled another set of keys in front of his face. "Hospital gave me Chris' things for safe keeping."

Pushing open the truck door, he hurried through the drizzling downpour to unlock the back door. He hadn't told Tanner he still had his own key, tucked away at the moment with the few other items he treasured. If he had known he was going to be in the area, he would have brought it with him...just in case. A few moments later the outside light glowed to life.

Vin wavered, then eased out of the truck and unmindful of the rain, grabbing Buck's gear, he slowly crossed the yard to step onto the back porch, feeling that somehow he was a criminal wrongly trespassing without Larabee being there. With a scowl, he kicked off his wet muddy boots and padded in his sock feet into the house.

Buck, having left his shoes on the enclosed porch as well, had flipped on several lights revealing a clean neat blue and white tiled kitchen. His upper body was buried in the fridge, rummaging, before he withdrew pitching a cold can of beer to Vin.

Vin hesitated, bouncing the can from one hand to the other. Then awkwardly clearing his throat to get Wilmington's attention, he spoke, "Guess I'll be leavin'." He turned back to the door.

"Hey, wait, Tanner! Ya can't leave!"

Blue eyes narrowed in silent questioning as Buck slammed the fridge and popped the top on his beer.

"I ain't got no wheels. I'll need a ride to the hospital tomorrow and there ain't no sense of you driving all the way out to where you live and having to come all the way back here for me, now is there?"

Vin refrained from mentioning he hadn't actually agreed to come back and get the man. "I--"

"Hell, Chris won't mind ya stayin' here. C'mon, save yourself the trip back." Buck cajoled.

Vin vacillated. Wilmington did have a point. He looked out the window. The rain had picked up in intensity and he really did not relish the long drive back. But he wasn't sure if he could endure the overly boisterous man who still had a tendency to make him feel uncomfortable.

It wasn't Wilmington's fault. It was just the fact he was a stranger and even as a police officer, Vin had trouble dealing with people he didn't know. He had no problems with the criminals. Hell, that was easy. Bust their asses and haul them off to jail, but with other people-normal people, he was shy and withdrawn. He had been working through that backwardness with Jamie's help when.... After a long moment, chewing his lower lip, he nodded once.

"All right then!" Buck's face brightened with a wide smile as he lightly slapped the younger man on the back. "Ya hungry? I'm starved! Let's see what Chris's got in the pantry...." He moved back into the kitchen. "Ya like pasta?" he questioned, head buried in the cabinets. "I make a mean batch of spaghetti."

"Yeah," Vin called back to him as he wandered into the comfortable living room, listening to Buck swearing under his breath as he dug through the food stores. His blue eyed gaze moved over the dimly lit room.

It was homey, with overstuffed furniture, several old wooden rockers and wooden tables, topped by magazines. A well-built oak entertainment unit was along one wall, its shelves holding CDs and videotapes. The upper most shelves held framed photos and as Vin moved closer, he reached out and pulled down one of a beautiful long-haired woman holding a smiling tow-headed little boy with expressive aquamarine eyes, both smiling at whomever had taken the photo. He turned it to get better lighting and started to ask Buck who they were, but the other man had his head buried in the freezer searching for ground beef so he returned the photo to its place, his gaze flickering over the other photos, noting most were of the same woman and little boy.

Turning from the unit, he surveyed the room. There were fading reminders of a woman's touch scattered amongst the southwestern style furnishings, but they were fading and the room mostly had a masculine look and feel.

"Hey, Tanner, how about ham sandwiches?" It was obvious Buck had failed in his quest to find all the required ingredients for his spaghetti.

"Fine," Vin assured him as he padded back to the kitchen. He quickly washed his hands as Buck pulled ham, cheese, mustard, Mayo, and lettuce from the fridge. Reaching for a loaf of bread on the counter, Vin began making sandwiches. "Got dill pickles?" he questioned. A large jar was slid across the counter top towards him, as well as two paper plates.

In short order, they were sitting across from each other at the table, the sandwiches satisfying their hunger. Vin crunched on a dill pickle and Buck made a face, but said nothing. Polishing off the last of his second sandwich, Vin jerked his head in the direction of the wall unit.

"Those pictures...that woman, little boy... Chris divorced?" he queried softly, remembering Larabee had denied having a wife that night in the hotel when he'd come back to help him.

An expression of dismay crossed Buck's face and his smile faded, to be replaced by a look of unbearable sadness. "No,' he whispered.

Vin frowned, feeling like he was stepping on sacred ground. He had thought Buck could and would tell him more about Larabee, hoping he might answer the questions Vin would never presume to ask Chris himself. "Who is she?"

Buck looked down at the tabletop. Chris would kill him for talking out of turn, but obviously he hadn't told Tanner anything about his previous life. "It's Sarah, Chris' wife. Little boy's Adam, his son."

Vin had figured out the latter. Boy was the spittin' image of his daddy. "Where are they now?"

Buck swallowed hard, and brought pain-filled eyes up to meet curious blue ones.

"Chris never told you?" As Vin shook his head, Buck shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat, his fingers making abstract invisible little designs on the wooden table. Well, if the kid was going to be around Larabee any time at all, he should know what he might be in for because there was every chance the demons which had controlled Chris' life for so long would resurface. Vin wouldn't be able to help him try and deal with them if he didn't know what they were. "They're dead."

Vin sucked in a breath, his wide-eyed gaze flying to the photos. How could someone so vital, so young....?

As if reading his thoughts, Buck spoke softly, "Was an accident. House fire. Chris wasn't home." Regret colored his softly uttered words. "We-we got back too late to save them."

He sighed heavily, tears rolling down his cheeks, as toying with the paper napkin in his hands, he shredded it into tiny pieces as he talked. "Damn near killed Chris, losing them like that. Part of him died that night. Resigned his commission, holed up back here and crawled into a bottle....This place was left to him and Sarah by her folks. They came here every chance they got and always invited me. Damn! We had some mighty good times in this old house!"

He paused, looking away before softly going on, "Some shrink said it was survivor's guilt. Never mind the fancy name, it damn near ate him up." He looked away again, gathered himself, then continued. "I tried to help him. Hell, all his friends did, but he didn't want help. Pushed everyone, everything away. Blamed everybody..." his voice was small, "...blamed me." He shook his head regretfully, "Hell, maybe it was my fault. If I hadn't fucked around at the station trying to get that gal's number, who knows? Maybe we coulda got back in time to save them, or been killed, too. In a way, might have been better for Chris if we had been." He shook himself. "What ifs...."

Wilmington blew out another deep breath. "Finally it got so bad, I just left. Sounds terrible, don't it? I's his best friend and it was like I walked out on him, but I had to get back. My leave was up and I couldn't beg anymore time. 'Sides, I'd done everything I could think of....Started ta think maybe I was just makin' things worse. Chris didn't want help, he just wanted to wallow in his pain and kill himself in a bottle. I stayed in touch, but I figured someday I'd get word he'd offed himself."

Buck shrugged at Vin's wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Never figured I'd find him alive... Every mornin' I've woken up wonderin' if this would be the day my commander would call me in ta give me a telegram informin' me my best friend was dead. Everyday I wondered if I was gonna have to start makin' his funeral arrangements. Ya can't imagine how relieved I was to see him at that airport. Not only alive, but smiling, joking and lookin' better that I ever expected." He focused intently on the younger man. "I venture you had something to do with that, Tanner, so I owe you....for Chris. Thank ya. And I don't take my debts lightly."

Vin shook his head, uncomfortable with the thought this man felt he owed him something. "Weren't me."

"Something's rekindled an interest in him."

Vin nodded slowly, not admitting it was probably the Judge's offer. Chris hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Wilmington and it wasn't his place. He chewed at his lower lip. "How long ya knowed him?"

Buck rolled his eyes. "Too long!" He laughed out loud. "Hell, I don't know. Seems like forever." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "We met in high school. Both of us were jocks....Man, that little shit could run! He was stiff competition for the girls, so I figured we'd best be friends cause he'd be one helluva enemy. We joined the Navy together, served together in the Gulf. He met Sarah after that, got married, then had Adam. Hell, I was best man at the wedding, knew Sarah like she was my little sister, was Adam's godfather...." He trailed off. "Was his Uncle Buck and I couldn't save him.... or his daddy..." Disappointment filled the soft words.

"I don't think he pushed ya as far away as either of ya think," Vin offered in the stillness. "Ya don't strike me as the type who takes ta bein' pushed or backs off unless he has ta."

"There are times when I can be just as mule-headed as that old war-horse." Buck's grin faded once more. "I called after I went back. Always got his machine. So I wrote him every week, never got an answer....Tonight, standin' on the side of that road, I was so scared..." He shook his head. "Seein' him all bloody in that car, all I could think was I had found him alive this mornin' and was gonna lose him tonight."

Vin looked away, uncomfortable with the man's openness. In truth, he wished he could be just as open, but years of ingrained habit were too hard to break. Sudden shame washed over Tanner as it dawned on him he had not even considered how Wilmington might be feeling these past hours.

The man across from him had unselfishly pushed aside his own fear of loss and done everything possible to ease the fears of a man he had just met. A man who was a virtual stranger to him.

It had been too long since he'd had to deal with other people's pain. The last person had been Jamie's sister-in-law. Yet now this kindhearted man needed someone, just as she had. Buck needed someone just as Vin had earlier and if he could help the older man, he would. It was time he let other people into his world. He had started with Chris and this man was Chris' friend. Hopefully he could be Tanner's too.

"Did ya get them letters back?" he questioned softly.

"Nope, but I doubt he ever read 'em. I figure every time he looks at me, he sees his life before... before the accident. Gotta make him think about what it might have been like if ...."

Buck had been affected as deeply as Chris by the loss of his adopted family, but unlike Larabee, Tanner didn't think there had been anyone to help him through the ordeal. Perhaps he had turned to Chris, trying to help him as a way of escaping or coping with his own grief. Yet, Vin could see buried deep inside, Wilmington blamed himself for the deaths, had heard the depths of that guilt in his quiet words. Like tonight. Buck had pushed aside his own interests and worries to help another through the devastation they were feeling.

Vin wondered if Chris was even aware of Buck's feelings about that shared period in their lives. Should he say something, at least let Larabee know the man he loved like a brother was struggling through his own ocean of guilt and loss? Larabee should be made aware of the fact Buck believed he was guilty of something he had no control over and that he thought Chris believed the same. No, it wasn't his business and it wasn't his place. Or was it?

Maybe the offer Larabee was going to make Buck would put them both on the path of healing and restoration, but Vin silently vowed if it didn't,...if it looked like the relationship they once shared could not be repaired without outside interference, then he would step in.

He would let Chris know what Buck was feeling and if that interference cost him the one friendship he had quickly come to treasure, then so be it. These two old friends needed each other. They deserved another chance at that closeness they had once shared and he would make damn sure they got it.

Silence fell over the room and it was long minutes before Buck stirred. "Best get this mess cleaned up. Chris'll kill us he sees his kitchen a mess."

"What do you mean 'us'?" Vin quipped.

Buck turned with a wide smile, throwing a wadded up paper napkin at him. "Us, pard, you and me."

And Vin, to his surprise returned the smile with a lopsided one of his own. Maybe Wilmington wasn't so bad after all, once you got to know him.

*******

Buck wandered through the house, pointing out changes since the last time he had been there. Vin followed him, listening, seeing a side of Chris Larabee he hadn't been aware of. The upper floor held three guest bedrooms and a bath. It was obvious from the musty smell and dust covered furniture they hadn't been used in years. Chris' bedroom, Adam's room and a second guest room were on the lower level. A slight pang of guilt raced through him...it should have been Chris showing him the house, but under the circumstances.... He brought his attention back to Buck's running commentary.

"....I'll bunk in here, if you wanna use Chris' or Adam's old room." he offered. Tanner understood it was too hard for Wilmington to bring himself to use the child's bedroom.

Vin shook his head. "Nah, I'll take the couch." There was no way he was going to intrude on that somber room. It had shaken him to see Chris had left it as it had been with model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, and various colorful scribbled pictures on the walls.

He had stared at the little room long after Buck had moved down the hallway, realizing a misplaced envy toward the tow-headed little boy whose father still honored his memory. As a child he had never had a room of his own or someone to hang his scribbles on the wall.

He glanced at Buck's retreating back, remembering the devastated look on the man's face at the sight of the airplanes. He didn't have to ask to know that many, if not all of them, had been gifts from the softhearted man to a little boy he loved like a son.

"I'll dig up some blankets. Bathroom's down the hall," Buck pointed out as he moved to a hall linen closet. Pulling down bedding, he packed it in and dropped it on the floor next to the couch. "Ya sure this is okay? Ya could always sleep in Chris' room....He really won't mind."

"Hell, no!"

"I can take the couch if ya want, or I'll sleep in Chris' room."

"This'll be fine. Thanks." He began making up the couch as Buck wandered about the room, pausing by the computer.

It had surprised him, Chris hadn't turned the downstairs guestroom into a den and office combination before remembering it was something he and Sarah had discussed each time they came to the small ranch. Sarah had wanted to redo it for Chris and he had pointed out the downstairs bath had connecting doors to both that room and the hall.

Sarah had logically pointed out, it was simple enough to lock the door to which Larabee had responded with a laugh, that meant having Buck wandering the hall in his jockey shorts.

Several files were stacked on the side desk along with the local newspaper from days previous. Glimpsing the name Tanner on one of the folders, he glanced over his shoulder and seeing the longhaired man was busy with the blankets he nonchalantly, gathered it up, making sure the newspaper hid the folder.

"I'm gonna turn in then. Read a little of the local news.... Ya need anything holler." He moved for the guestroom. "Night, Tanner."

Vin glanced up. "Yeah, night." He watched the man disappear down the hallway, then flipping off the lamp, he settled in the blankets got comfortable and despite the strange location was asleep in moments.

*******

Buck turned on the bedside light and pitched the newspaper aside, settling on the familiar bed as he opened the manila folder in his hands. Glancing at the closed door, he turned his dark eyed gaze to the first page and slowly began to read.

His dark eyes widened as he read the black and white account of Vin Tanner's life.

Shock and disbelief settled over him. He'd thought his middle class upbringing had been rough. Hell, most kids did, but it was nothing compared to the living hell Tanner had faced growing up.

Buck and Chris had grown up in an Indiana town so small, everyone knew everyone else's business so it was no surprise when it was soon revealed, Wilmington's mother had once been a prostitute in one of the finest houses in Nevada. Buck had been ten years old, when his stepfather had met her while on vacation and blinded by love the two had foolishly thought her past wouldn't make a difference.

Six years later, divorced and without any vocational training his mother had returned to her former trade, supplementing the meager money her ex-husband gave her each month.

It didn't matter to Buck. He'd loved his life at the Nevada house, becoming a son or nephew to each of the women, feeling more loved in those formative years then many children knew their entire lives.

He loved and had been proud of his mother and had blackened more than one person's eye for disparaging her good name.

That's how he and Chris had become friends. It had been football tryouts. Buck and Gus Reeves were in competition for first string receiver and when Buck had easily won the position Reeves made a comment about the bastard son of a two-bit hooker. Larabee had driven a fist into the boy’s mouth, knocking out two teeth.

Buck stopped reading, turning his gaze towards the door. 'God, Chris how...?' he let the thought go unfinished as he tried to equate the person the folder described to the young man sleeping in the other room.

He slowly closed the file, unable to bring himself to read the rest. Buck tossed the folder to the side and pushed to his feet to pace the small area between the bed and the wall.

He had been prepared to dislike the longhaired man the minute he had seen Chris walk up behind him and lay his hand on his shoulder. Jealous, envious of their friendship, he had already decided he may owe the man for helping Larabee, but Tanner was on his shit list. But now....

The files had been sketchy, but the facts were there. Tanner's mother had been killed when he was five and he had been placed in foster care pending the location of his father, which never seemed to have occurred. The different homes where the young child had been placed had filled two pages, with scribbled sidebars listing several of the homes had been charged with child abuse.

Appalled by the thoughts which jumped into his mind, Buck ran his hand through his hair. What had Tanner suffered, and lived through? No security, no permanency, no roots, no belonging.... no family.

Hell, Buck's mother may have been a prostitute, his father unknown, but his stepfather had been a kind-hearted man and always treated the boy decently. Wilmington had always had some sense of security and a roof over his head. Tanner... Tanner had had no one, except himself.

'Oh, Chris, you always could find the hurt strays and bring 'em into the fold, couldn't ya?' He wondered if Larabee had known about Tanner's past before he had helped him the night Nathan had told him about. He shook his head. Obviously he hadn't, or he wouldn't have the file on him.

Was that why his jaded friend had reached out his hand to the man? Chris always did have that ability to sense lost souls. Hell, he was proof of that. A strange concern for the longhaired man settling over him, it never occurred to him to wonder why Chris had compiled a file on that same man who was now sleeping on his couch.

Slipping soundlessly from the room, Buck padded silently down the hallway, stopping just inside the living room, his dark gaze moving to the blanketed figure on the couch. In the dim glow of the kitchen's hoodlight he could see the younger man was on his stomach, face turned towards him, long strands of his hair curled about his face. A soft vulnerability rested on the unguarded features and Buck flinched at how young Tanner looked. He wasn't more than a boy. A boy who had become a man far too young and carried a weight far beyond his years.

Once again, Buck admitted to himself his own shame. He had been envious of the younger man. Obviously, Tanner had succeeded where he, himself, had failed. The tracker had somehow managed to pull Chris back from the edge of that deep black abyss where Buck had left him.

Somehow, Tanner had restored his spirit and brought Chris back to a world of the living and no matter his other thoughts towards the man, for that Wilmington knew he would be eternally grateful. Looking at the man's sleeping features, knowing what he had read in the file and remembering the look of terror that had entered Tanner's vivid blue eyes the moment he had heard Chris' voice on the phone, Buck couldn't help but wonder if somehow Chris hadn't done the same thing for the younger man,

There was an almost tangible air of loneliness about the bounty hunter, which disappeared when he knew Chris was going to be all right. When he knew the older man was still going to be around, it had eased and yet it had reappeared, growing stronger each time he looked at Buck. Wilmington realized the kid was worried about how his return to Larabee's life was going to affect his friendship with the man.

'Well, I'll just have to make sure he knows he's got no reason to worry.' Buck thought. 'No way in hell I'm gonna let either of them lose the friendship which seems to have given them both a new life. Tanner's just gonna have to get used to having not one friend, but two who care about him.'

His expression softening, with a sad shake of his head, Buck slipped back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He didn't see the vivid blue eyes open, watching his back with an undefinable expression as he moved away, then with a weary sigh, close again.

*******

The unmistakable aroma of coffee awoke Buck and he groaned as he turned on his side looking around the room through slit eyes. Sunlight was peeking through the curtains and he groaned again as he focused on his watch. Eight a.m. Too early. Way too early. He never got up this early on leave unless he had plans for the day, hopefully plans which included a pretty, young and all to willing woman.

Pushing from the bed, he stumbled to the bathroom, and fumbling with the handles, adjusted the shower. Stripping down, he stepped into the cold spray, letting out a startled yelp when it hit his body, shocking him the rest of the way awake.

Soaping up and washing his hair, he finally stepped out and toweled dried. He eyed his previous day's clothes with disgust, but pulled on the pants and T-shirt. The officer had stuffed a set of civvies in his duffel bag, not exactly sure where he was going, figuring he could always buy what he needed when he got there. He'd raid Chris' closet and maybe find something clean until he could get his things.

Yawning, he made his way to the kitchen, eyeing the longhaired man who sat at the table with a cup of coffee.

"Mornin'," he muttered as, on autopilot, he moved for the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Taking a long swallow he gagged and spewed the hot liquid into the sink. "Gad, Tanner, you drink this sludge?"

Vin nodded, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter as he sipped at his cup. "Yep."

Buck ran hot water from the tap to dilute it and leaned back against the counter, studying the younger man who returned his gaze. "How long ya been up?"

"Five or six.... around there," Tanner admitted. "Done checked the stock and fed the horses. Chris's got good taste in horseflesh." 'And in friends,' he added silently.

Buck stared at him, wide eyed. "You done all that already?"

"Yep." Vin took a swallow of coffee, "Figured if I waited fer ya to get up, we'd never get ta the hospital t'day," he groused softly.

Buck ducked his head, hiding his smile at the man's words. Obviously Vin felt comfortable enough to spar with him. "Ya know that Nathan fella said they probably won't release Chris till this afternoon."

He brought his dark gaze to rest on the longhaired man, and a nagging thought danced in his mind. Tanner's expression, his body language screamed he had wanted to do something useful so he could stay around. Did the young man really believe he had to earn his keep to be allowed in someone's life? The words from the file danced in his thoughts.

"Bath's down there, towels're under the vanity if ya wanna clean up." He visually measured the smaller man. "Chris might have something you can wear." He motioned towards the torn jeans, damaged in Tanner's mad slide down the slope to the mangled car.

Tanner ducked his head self-consciously. "Yeah, shower wouldn't hurt," he admitted.

"Let me get my stuff outta your way." Leaving the cup on the counter, Buck hurried to the guestroom, gathering up the file and newspaper. Meeting Tanner in the hallway, he held up the paper, "Gotta finish that crossword," he muttered.

Vin shook his head as he continued past him and when Buck heard the water running in the shower, he scrambled to replace the folder on Chris' desk where he had found it. Then, moving to the master bedroom, he scavenged in the closet and found a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. As he pulled a shirt for himself from the shelf, an old shoebox resting on the edge hit the floor, spilling its contents.

The naval officer stood momentarily frozen, his stunned gaze taking in the numerous envelopes scattered at his feet. Slowly sinking to his knees, he reached out, brushing his fingers over one of them. Letters. His letters. Not only had each of them been opened, but from the looks of wrinkled edges, read several times before carefully being stored away for safe keeping.

Blinking back the hot tears which quickly filled his dark eyes, Buck carefully gathered them, placing them back in the box before returning the container to its place on the shelf. With a last sad smile, he closed the closet door, gathered the clothes he'd dug up for Tanner and pitching them on the chair by the bathroom, returned to the kitchen to finish his coffee.

*******

Buck looked at Vin as they strolled up the hall and grinned widely. "Told ya," he repeated as even three doors away, they could hear Chris bitching at the nurses.

"Maybe we could jist leave 'im?" Vin drawled lazily as they pushed open the door and entered Larabee's room, allowing the nurse who had been catching hell to hurry past.

"Where the hell you two been?" His hazel eyes flashed green with anger as he glared at Buck, then at Vin. Chris was sitting on the side of the bed. Other than the cuts and bruises, the only obvious indication of the accident was the arm resting in a sling against his chest. He had been ready to leave hours ago.

"Well," Buck placed the clean clothes he'd thought to bring along for the man on the end of the bed and dropped down in the only chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him, "we had to feed your critters and get breakfast and clean up that wild party we threw last night. Oh, reminds me, you're outta beer, ol' buddy," He glanced at his watch. "Hell, we did all that by nine, didn't we, Vin?"

Larabee heard the change in Buck's voice and the casual use of Tanner's first name. At least Wilmington was still alive. That was a good sign. He had had visions of Tanner killing Buck, but they seemed to be getting along well.

Vin settled back on the other empty bed in the room, stretching out on his side, bracing his head on his upraised arm. He gave Buck a small scowl as he muttered, "What do ya mean 'we'?"

With a grin, Buck ignored the question and waved a hand at Chris, "I reckon he's doin' better today."

"Reckon?" Vin drawled.

Buck prodded the older man with his booted foot. "What'd the doctor say?"

Chris gave him a withering look. "He said I could go home. I'm fine and I want to go now." His tone implied he would accept no excuses.

"Well, Vin, guess we better haul his sorry ass home. I--" Buck trailed off, looking up as a man in white entered the room, chart in hand.

"Mr. Larabee. Sorry. I wasn't aware you had visitors. I can come back..." he offered.

Buck waved his hand in the air. "Don't mind us, Doc." He gave the man a friendly wink. "'Sides, I think if ya tried leavin' without givin' ol' Chris there his walkin' papers, he'd probably shoot ya."

"Well, then. As I told Mr. Larabee earlier, he is a very lucky man. The last of the tests returned and there are no problems. X-rays and CAT scan show no damage. You do need to keep that arm in the sling for at least a week to give your shoulder time to heal. You're going to be sore for several days. I want you to leave the bandage on your ribs for a few days. They're just bruised but it will make you a little more comfortable and I suggest you lie around and do nothing more strenuous than lift a TV remote. I've left several prescriptions at the nurses' station for you. One for pain, one is an antibiotic, take it until it's gone and the other is to help you sleep. I would like to see you back here in a week." He scribbled on his chart, handing Chris several papers. "You're free to go. I'll have one of the nurses bring you a wheel chair."

Chris' eyes flashed fire. "I ain't usin' no wheelchair," he gritted out his voice like ice.

"It's hospital..." The doctor flinched at the man's glare and nodded. "Okay." He turned to go then turned back at the door. "Oh, and no driving. You've still got medication in your system and it wouldn't be wise. Gentlemen..." With a nod he left the three men alone, pausing only long enough to throw over his shoulder, "The nurse will be here shortly with the wheelchair."

Buck and Vin watched in undisguised amusement as Chris began to dress himself, stubbornly refusing their offers to help, insisting he wasn't some little child and had been dressing himself for years without their assistance.

"Well, shit!" Chris blurted as he slowly and very carefully pulled on his boots, trying to hide a grimace of pain as his ribs protested.

"What? Something wrong?" Concern flooded over Buck's face and Vin sat up, his heart beginning to race as he studied the older man for something seriously being wrong.

"Hell, this means I gotta let you drive my truck."

Buck stifled a wide smile as Vin shook his head.

"If the dealership gives it back to you. They'll probably hold it for ransom for that car you totaled," Buck pointed out, winking at Vin who relaxed, enjoying the banter between the two men.

"They got that stupid kidney killer back," Chris grunted out, panting as he finally got his boots on, "just a little worse for wear."

"A little?" Vin snorted as he ducked his head. "Ya ain't seen it, have ya?"

Chris stood and glared at the two men, then his eyes widened. "Hey, are those my clothes?" he demanded, looking from one to the other. "Buck, did you raid my closet?"

"And yer fridge," Vin muttered as Buck shot him a look.

"Damn, Chris, I know ya look good in this color, but don't ya own anything that ain't black?" Buck groused, ignoring his friend's protest as he gently tugged the tee shirt over Larabee's head re-adjusting the sling.

"Aw, hell, I don't know if I want to leave this place or not." Chris muttered as he gathered his things together, tossing the ruined blood stained shirt into the trash. "I ain't so sure I want you guys babysittin' me..."

Buck adopted a hurt look, "Who said we's gonna babysit ya?" he demanded as Chris moved from the room. He looked to Vin. "Do ya remember volunteerin' to babysit? I sure don't! Ya know, I once had me a commander in the SEALs, a real hard assed SOB." He adopted a thoughtful pose, "Believe his name was Laramie, Lara....Larabee, yeah, that was it, and he taught me a valuable lesson I've never forgot. Never ever volunteer....for nothing!"

Yet as anyone who looked could tell, the two men kept a close eye on Chris as he slowly moved down the hall, determined to leave before the nurse had a chance to return with the dreaded wheelchair.

*******

Against Chris' protest, saying he would just wait until he was able, Vin dropped Buck at the dealership and then headed for Chris' place. The younger man knew the naval officer could charm the truck right out of the bay and they really did need to have the vehicle as he wasn't up to playing chauffeur although a part of him did cotton to the idea of being needed. Of being able to do something to help his friend--both friends.

Just the two of them Chris' curiosity finally got the better of him. "You two get along?" he pried.

Vin shrugged noncommittally as he kept his eyes on the road. "He's still alive," he pointed out.

Chris hid a smile. That in itself was saying something especially since he knew firsthand the lengths Buck could--and would--go to just to piss off someone he didn't like.

"Buck's okay. If he thinks he can, he'll mother hen ya to death," he warned. " He's just a little hard to take sometimes."

"Like castor oil," Vin muttered.

Chris snorted, "Yeah, in really small doses," he conceded as he blew out a deep breath. "He's just so damn cheerful all the time. Nothing gets to him. Gets to the point sometimes ya wanna hit him, just to see if he'd keep smilin' at ya."

"He probably would." Vin laughed, thinking only if it was Chris doing the hitting. There was no doubt in his mind Buck could be a formidable adversary and he would sure hate to be on the receiving end of that smiling man's fists. "He'd smile just to piss ya off more," he added.

"You're probably right," Larabee conceded, realizing Tanner was as good at reading people as he was sign.

On the four lane, Vin kicked on the cruise control at sixty and settled back in the seat, his blue eyed gaze drifting repeatedly to the quiet man who sat in his passenger seat. Chris wasn't saying much and his face was pale. Vin knew he was hurting, but kept his silence.

Suddenly, from seemingly out of nowhere, a black pickup blew by them.

"Damn!" Vin swore, his one word enough to capture Larabee's attention.

The older man opened his eyes to see his truck ahead of them as it dropped over in front of them and Buck eased up to forty-five.

Vin frowned and throwing on his blinker, jumped to the passing lane, picking up speed as he rolled by the black truck. Chris stirred enough to flip Buck the byrd, which bought a smile to Vin's face.

Settling in front of the darker vehicle, Vin set the cruise and again, Buck whizzed by them dropping back in front and slowing down. Vin blew his horn only to have Buck roll down the window and flip him off, the thumping sounds of excessively high bass reaching them in the green truck. So much for the stereo speakers.

Vin glanced at Chris. "Is he always like this?" he queried.

Larabee shook his head, "Nope--"

"Thank God," Vin muttered.

"--he's usually worse," Chris finished with a grimace, which quickly turned into a grin. "Well, at least he ain't trying the off road capabilities," he quipped dryly as Vin passed his truck yet again.

With a silly grin, Buck pulled along side the green pickup and mouthed, 'Wanna race?' One look at Larabee's scowl, Vin shook his head. With a shrug and a byrd, the black truck once again flew up the highway, leaving them behind in moments.

"I'm gonna kill him," Chris vowed. "I swear I'm gonna kill him!"

Tanner pulled his gaze from the road with a lazy grin. "Can I watch?"

*******

At the farmstead, they entered the back porch, Vin keeping a wary watchful eye on Chris as he slowly moved inside. The younger man took a moment to remove his boots, then padded inside.

Buck was sprawled on the couch, a beer in hand, two other cans on the coffee table, sans coasters. "Hey," he waved the can toward them," what took ya so long?"

Chris sank slowly into his favorite chair and gave his friend a scowl. "Nice truck you was driving.... or what I could see of it from the rear."

"Didn't want the beer to get warm," Buck responded with a wide smile. "Course I stopped and got ya some Pepsi since ya can't have alcohol with the meds they give ya."

Standing in the doorway, Vin caught the can Buck tossed him and moved to place it back on the table without opening it. "I gotta go."

"Aw, hell, Vin, stay. I'll fix that spaghetti--"

The longhaired man shook his head. "Can't." He suddenly felt very ill at ease here in Chris' home. With Buck there with his friend, he felt the old deja vu of being odd man out again.

And truth be told, he had another mission in mind. He'd told Buck about Chris' remark of being run off the road and Buck had relinquished the paint chips he had found on the damaged loaner car's trunk. Vin, seeing the color, had an idea who the vehicle belonged to and although he wasn't sure, he was damn sure gonna do some digging and make whoever it was pay for almost killing his friend.

"C'mon, Chris, tell him to stay," Buck coaxed ignoring the fact, Larabee bypassed the Pepsi for the beer can.

Vin automatically bristled. "Nobody tells me nothin'."

Wilmington raised his hands in mock surrender. "Don't get riled. I just thought you might like to stay for supper."

His cheeks flushing red, Vin shook his head. Chris needed time to talk to his old friend and hadn't had that opportunity yet to explain to him about the team. As much as he longed to stay, he couldn't.

He turned to Chris. "I'll be in touch." With a nod to Buck, he stamped into his boots and left the house.

"Hey, dinner'll be ready 'bout six!" Buck called after him.

The two old friends were quiet as they heard Tanner's Ford turn over. Gravel crunched loudly in the stillness and they listened to the sound of the vehicle fading into the distance.

Buck sighed and sloshed the liquid in the can he held. He finally focused on Chris, waiting for his friend to speak and when he didn't, Buck cleared his throat, "Okay, Chris, why am I here?"

Larabee scowled, "Ya brought my truck home."

"Oh, shit, Chris, you know that ain't what I mean. What am I doing here? And don't try and tell me you didn't have a hand in my being sent here." Wilmington didn't fail to notice Larabee had barely sipped at the beer. "My mind ain't completely gone. Ya see, all my orders said was I was to report to Four Corners, Colorado. Far as I know, Four Corners ain't got any kind of military base here since they closed down two years ago." He grinned at his old friend. "Now, ya know I'm always tryin' to avoid trouble at all cost..." he ignored Larabee's soft chuckle at that, and continued, "so not wantin' to end up in the brig or court martialed for not showin' up at the right place on time, I made some phone calls. Seems there ain't nobody in this state knows why I'm here or who I'm suppose to report to. I find that highly irregular, so ya wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

"What makes ya think I know?" Chris questioned softly.

"Aw, hell, Larabee! Ya just happen to be at the airport when I arrive. Ya had that joke with Tanner all set up. C'mon, ol' buddy, 'fess up. Why'd ya bring me here?"

Larabee stared at the nearly full can in his hand. Funny, alcohol didn't seem to hold the attraction it had even a month before. "Why do you think you're here?"

"Hell, if I knew that I wouldn't be asking, now would I?" Buck pointed out, impatiently.

Chris continued staring at the can in his hand. "What do ya think of Tanner?"

Buck's eyes widened in surprise at the unanticipated question. "Seems like a good kid. Sorta lost and lonely."

The blond nodded. "Yeah, I've noticed. Think you could work with him?"

Wilmington's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean 'work'?"

Still toying with the can, Chris began talking, about the judge, about his offer, about the team he wanted to build, the plans he had....

"....and you want me?" Incrediousity filled Buck's soft voice.

"Hell, yes! You was my first choice," Chris assured him, wondering why Buck found that fact so astonishing.

Buck's eyes twinkled, "Beats being last." His voice sobered. "And Tanner?"

Chris' expression sobered. "He's got the skill and the knowledge I want on this team. But he's always been on his own. The judge says he'll never be a team player."

Buck's mustache lifted in a wide smile, "Then we'll just have to prove ol' Judge Travis wrong, won't we?" He took a swallow of his beer. "By the way, I put all those calls I made on your bill."

Larabee nodded with a smile and the two men fell silent, enjoying the comfortable stillness between them. Buck smiled as he looked at his old friend. Chris had fallen asleep, and was softly snoring.

Shaking out the afghan on the back of the couch, Buck tucked it around his friend, pleased to find the beer can he eased from his friend's limp hand was nearly full.

*******

Larabee wearily stirred on the sofa. The pain medications had kept him down and for the last couple of days, he had refused to take them. The previous evening, he had been in such discomfort, Buck had literally sat on him and forced the pills down his throat.

It was clear the two of them were getting on each other nerves as only close friends could, Buck with his smothering and Chris with the surliness of being disabled.

And so several hours earlier, leaving the older man to stew and fend for himself, Buck had swiped his keys and taken the truck, using the excuse of going to the grocery to get out of the house.

Now, the familiar rumble of the big truck sounded in the afternoon stillness and Chris pushed off the couch. He was gonna chew Buck's ass out for the way he drove that truck. It suddenly hit him there was a second sound. He moved to the window looking out over the drive and a rare full smile graced his features at the sight of the familiar green Ford pickup pulling in beside the black truck.

He turned from the window and schooled his face as a few minutes later, the two men stomped in, arms laden with sacks of groceries.

"Hey," Buck called out to him, "look what I found at the grocery." Hands full, he jerked his chin in Tanner's direction. "He was on special today. Half price." He ducked as Tanner tossed a box of cereal at him.

Chris grinned at the childish antics. "Hey, Vin, it's good to see a friendly face." His calm tone belied the real joy he felt at seeing the younger man.

"Chris." The young tracker nodded to him as he began pulling items from the bags and handing them to Buck to stow. Only his twinkling blue eyes gave away how pleased he was.

He had honestly been surprised when Buck had bumped into him and it had taken the bigger man little coaxing to talk him into returning to the farmstead with him.

Buck settled everything in its place, then shooed them out of the kitchen. "I got everything to fix that spaghetti I promised Vin the other night."

Chris gave him a pitiful look. "Buck, you can't cook."

"Hey," Buck adopted a wounded expression, "I can so cook. Women just love a man who can cook."

"Then that explains why they don't love you," Chris pointed out.

Buck threw a roll of paper towels at him, bouncing them off Tanner's shoulder instead. "Oops!"

Vin rolled his eyes and threw them back, his perfect aim smacking the package across Buck's forehead. Seeing Wilmington heft a can of tomatoes, he settled down on the couch before Buck could retaliate.

He turned blue eyes toward Chris. "Ya doin' okay?" he questioned softly as Larabee sat down in the nearby chair.

"I'm doing fine! But I've just about had my fill of Momma Buck there."

"I heard that!" drifted from the kitchen.

Chris looked at Vin, effecting a woefully pitiful look. "Can I come stay with you?"

"Hell, no! He'd just follow and bother me, too then I'd have to shoot him." Tanner pointed out with a small grin.

"I sweat, I slave, I cook, I clean and what do I get?" Buck groused in a fake falsetto. "No respect..."

Vin eyed Larabee before turning to cast a look over his shoulder in Buck's direction. Bringing his gaze back to Chris, he whispered loudly, "And you wanted him on the team because....?"

Chris winked at him. "Comic relief."

"Aw, hell, now, Chris, that just wounds me," Buck yelped, clutching his chest.

Larabee shook his head as he looked at Tanner. "Are you sure you want to be around him on a regular basis? He might be contagious."

"I'll get my shots," Vin uttered dryly as a potholder whizzed by his head. Grabbing it from the floor, Tanner padded into the kitchen to harass Buck.

Chris watched the two of them and sighed. Buck had a good heart. He was fiercely loyal and stood by his friends through thick and thin. Hell, he was living proof of that.

Maybe one day he would talk to Buck about the letters and let him know how much they had helped. How much he had looked forward to the scribbled telling of the everyday happenings of people he knew from another life. Those pages had kept him grounded. For years, the concern, love and encouragement expressed on those written pages had kept him from taking that final step over the line to a place from which there was no return.

A long time ago he had learned it was Buck's optimistic outlook which made him want to reach out and help anyone he thought was ill-used or smaller than he was. It appeared in a few short days his mother hen instinct had kicked in and he had seen someone ill-used and in need of a friend. A need all too obvious in young Tanner. If anyone could bring the bashful bounty hunter out of his shell, it would be the fun-loving Navy pilot. Ex-Navy pilot, Chris mentally corrected himself.

But what surprised Larabee was oddly enough, the younger man seemed to enjoy Buck's enthusiastic camaraderie. Perhaps it was just he had known so little of friendship's care and concern in his life, he was only too happy to accept. Whatever it was, they would be good for each other.

He could hear them bickering in the kitchen. He felt a moment's pang. It had been a long time since the old house had heard friendly bickering and laughter. Much too long.

His hazel eyed gaze drifted to the photos on the unit opposite him and settled on Sarah's likeness. It seemed her smile was a little brighter. Maybe, he thought with a smile of his own, maybe she approved of this new family he was beginning to build.

She, like Chris, had loved Buck and happily accepted the brotherly affection he showered on her and Adam. In his heart, Chris knew she would have taken Tanner under her wing, easing the shy young man into their life, happily determined to do with him what she couldn't with Buck....find him a wife. How she had loved playing matchmaker.

*******

Full of Buck's spaghetti and garlic bread, the three men relaxed in the living room. Chris was in his chair, Buck on the couch, and Vin sat on the floor, his back resting against the sofa, an arm's length from where Chris sat.

Vague figures flickered across the muted television they weren't watching. Talked out, they were comfortable in each other's presence.

Buck noted the younger man's position between himself and Chris. A small smile curved under his mustache. He would happily relinquish his place beside Chris. It was where Vin belonged now, where he needed to be and it would be a small sacrifice to make for having his old friend back.

His dark gaze flickered over Tanner, taking in his comfortable pose. Yeah, with men like him they could save the world. But for now, saving the world could wait. For now, there was again peace, belonging and contentment at the Larabee farmstead.

His gaze moved to the photos on the shelf and his smile deepened. He had long ago promised Sarah he would look out for Chris and keep him safe. It had taken time but now, with Tanner's help, he knew he really could keep that promise.

Wilmington leaned back against the cushions. Maybe change wasn't such a bad thing after all. Hopefully, it wouldn't interfere with his love life.

THE END

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