Ezra switched his attention to Herv who still stood over him, caressing his now shod foot, holding the second strappy high heeled shoe in one hand. Forcing a smile, though a bit shaky it quickly became his normally smooth undercover persona, he blinked his lashes and looked up through them at Jardain. "Give me the other one, I'll put it on," he whispered, letting a hint of promise in the tone.

Jardain responded like a flower to water, straightening and smiling, he presented the second shoe, releasing Ezra's other foot. "Now that's more like it, my pretty."

Behind him, Buck rose up to his feet like a volcano, hands swinging free with straggly stretched and torn pieces of leather strap hanging from them. Neither of the two watching gunmen even noticed, but Vin did. Tanner gave a final hard yank and was free as well, rising like smoke behind the bigger man, eyes wild with rage and vengeance.

Ezra saw his friends movements and knew he had to keep attention on himself for just a few more seconds. With a sizzle of fury that he'd never before allowed to escape while on the job, he swung his legs down to the floor from the log beam perch he'd been set on. Jardain stepped back to watch, appreciatively, still unsuspecting of the danger ready to erupt at his rear. He hummed as he leered at his small prize, watching avidly as Ezra swiftly raised the second stiletto-heeled shoe and then screamed in shock as the man launched himself at Herv, a long armed swing of the patent leathered shoe ending in a vicious entry to the bigger man's neck at the vulnerable front of his throat.

The scream changed to a burbling, excruciating noise as Jardain gagged and clutched at the straps of gleaming black leather, the unscratched brown sole shining obscenely as it dangled from his neck. Blood was gushing out of the ragged rupture as he sank to his knees, eyes bulging in the new effort to breath.

Ezra didn't wait, scrambling to a ready stance to face the two gunmen who were staring in surprise, their guns automatically swinging around from his compatriots to face him. He bent one knee to better balance against a bare foot and one wearing a four inch heel, his side pounding with the punishment it had received, now stretched and hurting more.

Buck bellowed behind Jardain somewhere, still a good fifteen feet away though he was leaping forward in enormous strides. "Ezra, look out!" The gunman nearest him had raised his gun with a shaking hand and was clearly preparing to fire at his lover. With determination to protect, Buck pushed himself off on both feet and threw his body across the angle of the man's gun and Ezra's exposed body. The sound of the gun was loud, Buck's grunt of pain like a surprised aspiration of air.

Vin Tanner was a whirlwind of motion, his body a blur as he kicked out at the second gunman's hand, the gun pin-wheeling free. Ignoring the cry of pain from his target as the man clutched at a broken wrist, he continued his turn, coming down hard on his front foot as he flipped over once in an eye-opening, hands-free full body cartwheel. He landed with great precision on top of the other threatening man, hands already reaching for the scrawny neck. By the time the two men hit the floor, that neck was twisted and snapped with a small popping sound.

Outside, unheard by the men at war within, a sleek minivan, all black, had pulled up to the steps of the old mill and four very tough looking bruisers were climbing out. Down the single street, a dust cloud and the sound of a roaring motor had the men turning to look as a black Ram king-size pickup slid to a stop just short of ramming their smaller truck. All four dove for cover, yanking out handguns, one pulling free a semi-automatic from a strap around his neck and back, letting it swing out into his hands and throwing a stream of bullets toward the intruders.

Chris, teeth still gritting on his small cigar, slammed the truck into park and jumped clear, not even bothering to turn off the motor. He had his Sig out and cupped in two hands as he stood behind the tall hood of his thrumming vehicle, picking a target and firing even as his men scrambled out of the other doors, all prickling with their own weapons. His aim was steady and the suspect melted to the ground with a final burp of his weapon, bullets stitching a row in the gravel.

It was JD who yelled out their identification, protecting the silent rage of his teammates. "ATF! ATF! Drop your weapons!" The young agent knew their opposition had no intention of doing that but it would be a necessary element of the team's testimony at some time in the future. Despite what his teammates sometimes teased, he was a smart, tough young man and kept on thinking despite the confusion and violence that might spring up around him during a bust, or like now, when a firefight came out of nowhere. He picked his shot, crouched down by the rear wheel well of the big truck, satisfied to see the man running toward him falter and then collapse.

Josiah could move very fast when he needed to and his team was in danger, the missing ones even more than his fellows here. With anger blooming in his chest, he rose up on the side fender of the sleek truck, his toes finding purchase more by sheer velocity than any physical support, and stood on the truck bed, arms coming together with his long muzzled gun held clasped in two large bony fists as he slowly arced it, searching his target, ignoring the burn along one arm of a close miss. There! Meet your maker, brother. He squeezed the trigger and smiled beatifically as his target dropped soundlessly in a heap.

Nathan Jackson was swearing under his breath as he lay on his belly in the churned up gravel and dirt of the mill yard, spitting out sawdust and pebbles from his precipitous dive out the back passenger door. He raised one arm to pull free a throwing knife from his back harness, his loose jacket still on the back bench seat of the truck where he'd shrugged out of it during their careening drive out to the abandoned town. One hand holding a gun unwaveringly, his other instinctively filled and emptied of a flying blade, the glitter of the blued steel like a metal bird as it flew in a shallow arc. With a silent swiftness, it was buried in the heart of one of the four men who'd dared attack Team 7.

The four agents slowly stood up and away from their cover, cautiously turning over the bodies, all corpses, of their opponents, flicking sharp glances around to spot any other potential threats. "Josiah, JD, check out the yard, the buildings. Nate, you're with me." Larabee leaned in the window of his truck and turned off the motor. He started for the mill entrance since that had been the apparent destination of the now dead gangsters.

The utter silence of the yard was only broken now by the harsh panting of his men as they recovered from the short, violent action. It must have lasted all of twenty or thirty seconds at the outside, Larabee thought, pointing his Sig ahead as he stalked wordlessly toward the building hulking in front of him. Jackson had caught up, brushing at clinging bits of grit on his shirtfront, other hand holding steady with a forty-five aimed unerringly toward the empty open doorway they were approaching.

JD and Josiah both spun on the balls of their feet, Chris and Nathan stopping for an instant, at the sound of Ezra's voice crying out "BUCK!" It had come from somewhere inside, up high. Chris cricked his neck back, upstairs! And he was off and running, the other three on his heels, their original assignments forgotten.

Upstairs, the outside firefight was noted by Vin Tanner who was hastily checking the two gunmen now deceased. He'd shot the second one amid the sounds of gunfire outside, when the man foolishly went for his gun again, despite a now broken wrist. Tanner had scooped up the weapon near the limp hand of the already dead gunman beside him and drilled a hole in the dumbass across the room. He sent a worried glance toward Buck who had dropped to the floor at the sound of the single, earlier shot here in the room. Shit, team must have arrived, he thought as the bursts of gunfire outside subsided. The shots had erupted even as he covered the distance between his first target and his second. The shot that hit Buck only one sharp sound among the peppering fire outside. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ezra stagger, bend and rip free the shoe still buckled on one foot. Jardain had fallen over on his side, still breathing noisily, crying out in pain with a muffled sound.

Vin came to his feet gracefully, tense, armed with the two revolvers the henchmen had been using. He crouched and ran for the window the noise had come from, peering out cautiously. Behind him, he heard Ezra cry out, "BUCK!"

Outside, Chris, Nathan, JD and Josiah were moving through the bodies in the large, open mill yard. All four heads snapped up at the sound of Ezra's cry. Vin knew they didn't see him as they all took off at a dead run for the downstairs entry to the mill. Sinking down to sit with his back to the wall beneath the windowsill, Tanner sighed, resting his guns on his cross-legged lap, both barrels finding an unerring home in the middle of Jardain's heaving back. He hazarded a single quick look toward his friends. Ezra was kneeling over Wilmington now, turning him over with erratic movements, fear evident in his shaking hands, though his face was blank, still.

The thundering of men's feet on the wooden staircase alerted Tanner to their team's imminent arrival. Leastways, better be them. He pointed one gun at the doorway, the other still affixed to Jardain's back, though the man had stopped moving. Vin hadn't yet noticed the blood dripping from his wrist where he'd torn skin as he broke free of his bindings.

"Buck! Answer me, you bastard!" Ezra's harsh almost gutteral demand made Vin squint. You better not be hurt too bad, Bucklin, or old Ez is gonna kick your ass but good.

Looking up, Vin relaxed as his eyes met hard hazel ones. Chris stood braced in the doorway, taking in the scene. Behind him, Nathan, JD, and Josiah crowded close.

Ezra fumbled with Buck's shirt and jacket. Dragging them back off of his friend's shoulders, ripping them free. The bullet had punched Wilmington in the back, high up, at an angle near the shoulder. It was bleeding badly from the back, there was no exit wound. He shoved the shirt into a ball and pressed it against the wound, the man's torso draped over his knees as he knelt there on the floor, oblivious to his own gawdy appearance. With panicked motions, he used his free hand to lift and turn Buck's face toward his. The face was smoothly expressionless, eyes closed. "Buck! Answer me, you bastard!" Two dark blue eyes slowly opened, their expression glazed.

Ezra breathed a sigh of relief. The wound was too high to be life-threatening. His heart pounding, he smiled down at the man who'd undoubtedly not only saved his own worthless life, but done it at incredible cost. He was giving his life for me. Ezra bent closer over his friend, his lover. "Ah, Mr. Wilmington, you are a piece of work." He gently kissed the now furrowed brow of his listening love. A smile appeared under the mustache. It was quickly followed by a grimace as pain from the gunshot finally registered.

"Oh, ouch!" Buck's shoulders heaved up once, then he was turning in Ezra's grasp so that he could lay there, supported by Ezra and look up into those beautiful green eyes.

Ezra hastily adjusted his hold, managing to keep pressure on the wound. He met the dark promising look and smiled back. "You are a rascal, you know that?"

"Who, me?" Buck managed a lop-sided grin despite the now throbbing pain in his shoulder. "You're the one in a dress."

"Not by choice, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra gently chastised, ignoring the sudden arrival of more men. Vin would handle them, he had their backs.

"Hate to say it, Ez, but you do look good in drag." It came out in a whisper. "My own private drag qu--"

"Don't even think it, Buck!" Ezra warned with assumed outrage. "I am not, nor have I ever been a drag queen!"

"Queen of my heart," Buck murmured, letting his eyes drift shut.

"BUCK!" Ezra lurched closer in renewed panic. Then Nathan was there beside him, easing the bigger man from his grip.

"Let go a bit here, Ezra. Let me see how bad he's hit." Jackson was gentle, seeing the fear in the wide green eyes that met his for a second before returning to stare at their wounded teammate. Nathan eased Buck down flat on the floor, then lifted him over onto his belly and began to probe beneath the shirt wadding that Ezra had been pressing into the bleeding wound. "You'll live, Buck." He sighed and sat down, pulling free some antiseptic powder from his med kit shoulder bag, and sprinkling it on the open flesh. A bloody, trembling hand grabbed hold of one of his arms. Looking up again, Nathan smiled reassuringly. "He'll be fine, Ezra, just shock setting in. We'll get him to help right away."

Ezra swallowed hard and closed his eyes in grateful relief. He'd thought that to be the case, but Nathan's words still were enough to slow his heartbeat and calm him. He barely felt the heavy tweed suit jacket that dropped onto his shoulders but did hear Josiah's voice.

"Let's get you covered up a bit, Ezra. No sense getting a chill, Buck's going to need you."

In the background, Ezra heard Chris' sharp voice. "JD, go down to the truck. My sports bag is in the big tackle box on the truck bed. Bring it up."

Josiah straightened up as Dunne flashed out of the room. They could all hear his dash down the stairs. Yes, Ezra needed to be dressed when reinforcements arrived. Team 6 would be here soon, they'd called them with their conclusions and Jenner had said he'd have his men on their tail, be back up as soon as he could get there. Said he'd contact Travis, too. The beat of a helicopter overhead meant that likely he had.

Chris walked slowly over to where Herv Jardain lay on his side, curled up protectively, both hands still wrapped around his throat. With a casual movement, Larabee kicked the man's legs. "Jardain?" Nothing. He stalked around the motionless man to face him, then started back in shock. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, bulging from their sockets in soundless agony. Between clutching clawed fingers, blood flowed still, slowly oozing out, half concealing what appeared to be a women's high-heeled dress shoe. At least, he figured that was what it was, though the heel was out of sight. Chris smiled, no humor in it, his teeth exposed around the forgotten cigar in his mouth. He looked down to the side and saw a second shoe sitting there abandoned, straps loose, the four-inch stiletto heel's black patent leather gleaming dully in the diffused lighting. Stretching and rolling his shoulders in grim amusement, Chris met the insanity in those dark eyes with his own brand of brutality. "Now, that's what I call poetic justice."

He moved away as Josiah came over and bent down on one knee to examine the injured suspect. Hell, he was guilty as sin, no need to 'suspect' anything. Larabee turned away, knowing that Sanchez had more ability to deal with the piece of crap than he had. He'd just shoot the bastard and be done with it, and that wouldn't read too well in the team report. Josiah would take care of Jardain. Facing the room again, Larabee took in the dead bodies of two men, Ezra sagging in relief next to Buck as Nathan worked busily on Buck's wound. Must be alright or Ez would be screamin' for more help. Assured that his other men were okay, he looked over at Tanner, still sitting on the floor by the far window, a gun in each hand.

Chris smiled more naturally and strode over. "You okay?"

Vin squinted up at his boss. "Yep."

"Then?"

"Just resting."

"Come on." Larabee held out a hand.

Vin started to reach for the helping hand, then seemed to realize both of his own were occupied. He placed the henchmen's guns down on the floor carefully, then reached up and grasped the offered hand of his team leader and good friend.

Yanking Tanner to his feet, Chris looked searchingly into the bright blue eyes. He nodded his question. No bullshit, Tanner, you really okay? The shocky look left the blue eyes meeting his, a small smile answering his silent query. Yep.

"Go help Josiah."

Vin looked distastefully over at where Josiah was kneeling over Jardain. But he squared his shoulders with a nod to Larabee and walked over.

Chris stood by the window, looking around the room. JD fired back inside, clutching his sports bag. "Get out some clothes for Ezra," Chris instructed quietly.

Dunne nodded and crouched next to Standish, looking over at Jackson. "Buck okay?"

"Yeah, he's going to be fine, JD, just a minor gunshot to the shoulder." Nathan was finishing up a temporary pressure bandage as he spoke, not bothering to look up.

JD's tension eased and he got busy with the bag, pulling out sweat pants and shirt. He looked up to offer them to Ezra, eyes widening as he took in the undercover agent's current apparel for the first time. "Hot damn, Ezra! Where'd you get that outfit?"

Ezra, who'd been watching Nathan's actions with attentive possessiveness, jerked at JD's piping question. He looked down at himself in awaking shock. Aw, hell.

"Here." Dunne had almost immediately recognized his own mistake. Apologetically, he added, "Don't worry about it, Ez. Here's some of Chris' clothes, just slip into them."

Standish nodded, shrugging off Josiah's heavy jacket where it rested on his shoulders and taking the gray pants first and pulling them up, tugging the drawstring tight. With a sudden violent action, he ripped the provocative negligee' off, tearing the lacy bodice free and thrusting it away. JD quietly passed him a large sweatshirt and he gratefully dragged it down over his head. The sleeves hung over his hands and he impatiently shoved them up, exposing his bruised forearms, the puncture wounds from now twice torn out IV lines looked red and angry.

"Nate, you best check Ezra too." JD eyed the marks on Ezra's arms with alarm.

Jackson nodded. "I'll get to him soon's I can." He patted Buck's back, knowing the man was semi-conscious and likely beginning to feel a lot of pain. "We'll have you out of here shortly, Buck. Just lie still."

Wilmington shifted slightly, turning his head to look for Ezra. He sighed in relief to see the southerner sitting beside him, nearly swallowed in what were obviously Larabee's sweats. With a quirk of his lips, Buck spoke. "Hey, Ez, roll up those pant legs. Don't want you tripping now."

Irritated green sparks flew at him, the southerner's love still evident nonetheless. Then Ezra ducked and began to do as he was told. "Oh, shit!"

With a wry grimace, Ezra reached down inside his waistband to release the thigh-high garters, then stretched down to drag stockings and garters free of his legs through the pant cuff openings. He flung the offending garments away, heedless of direction. JD ducked now and grinned as one stocking landed on Josiah's shoulder, the big man unaware of his new decoration as he sat back to stare at Jardain, Tanner hovering over them, the sharpshooter's face a closed mask, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

Other engines roared into the yard behind Chris as he held his cell phone. He spoke in a clipped, low voice, his words indistinguishable but the tone satisfied. He watched from the window as Team 6 climbed out of their vehicles, Jenner holding a cell phone to his ear. Terry looked up, spotted Larabee and waved. Chris nodded back. They spoke to one another for another few moments and then both closed their phones.

Team 6 would handle cleanup in the yard. Team 7 would stay here, wait for the air medics that were landing out in the street now, the loud whopping sound of the helicopter blades whumping to silence. Everything would be okay. Ezra was safe. Buck wasn't hurt bad. He let his eyes skim around the room. His boys all looked a bit rough, he saw some blood on Josiah's arm. Not much. Likely a graze. Have Nate look at that when he can. He saw their team medic was crouched in front of Jardain's body, studying the situation. Not much to be done for the man until he was in the hospital. That shoe couldn't be removed or the fuck would likely bleed to death instantly. Not such a bad outcome, he thought with a sigh. As it was, he'll probably live. They damn well better do a good job securing the bastard this time. In his peripheral vision, he saw the white clad paramedics dashing through the yard, bags slung over shoulders, carrying a couple of evac sleds.

With deliberation, Chris Larabee holstered his weapon back in his shoulder harness and pulled at his cigar, taking a puff and blowing the smoke out into the room. It almost felt normal right now, like any regular bust. He eyed his undercover agent, now edged up against his old friend Buck, looking diminutive in the too large sweats, sleeves and pant legs rolled up. Better that than the outfit he was in when we got here. He doesn't need any more of that shit. Chris leaned against the open sill, bracing himself with one hand, the other returning the small cigar, nearly down to a butt, back between his teeth. This may even do Ezra some good, be too busy worrying about Buck to fall back into that funk from his other problems. Chris sighed. Not that those problems were going to go away anytime soon.

Nathan scratched the back of his head, more in frustration than puzzlement. There had to be a way to get his teammates to pay attention to their injuries, follow doctors' orders. Just wish I knew the secret word, he thought in sudden amusement, feeling like Groucho Marx. I could use that foolish, ugly duck dropping down out of the sky with an answer about now. He lifted his gaze from his stubborn friends to Josiah Sanchez who was chuckling in amusement from his seat across the room. Sanchez had appropriated the big recliner that Ezra had in his sparsely decorated living room. After a bit of a push from the team, he'd made sure that there were enough seats - of one sort or another - for all seven men to be seated when they came over.

And come over they did. After all, he had the biggest screen TV of any of them. Sunday afternoon football just wasn't the same anywhere else. It had only been two days since the rescue at Rock Hollow and both Buck and Ezra had been discharged from the hospital. Well, Buck had been discharged. Ezra refused to be re-admitted as a patient, accepting only minimal first aid treatment at the ER for his bloody little holes for IV 's and other alien equipment, as he referred to it, attached a few short times to his body.

It was the strangest thing, but Ezra, who'd been nearly ready to be committed, only two days ago, was now nearly back to normal. Nearly being the operative word. He was still showin' the whites all the way around his eyes if startled and he was nervy enough to be startled more than regular, except when he was fussin' at Buck or close up against him. Like now. Nathan slouched back in the low arty chair that he'd co-opted. It looked uncomfortable, but was really, he'd found through private experimentation, one of the most comfortable chairs he'd ever sat upon. It was his secret vice. Ezra probably knew it, but still. He sat there now, hands folded across his belly, studying his two recovering friends closely.

Ezra was mashed up tight against Buck's healthy side, his own injury a bit further along in the healing process. Nate decided he'd never seen two people look more comfortable together than those two. They fit each other's shapes as if all their angles and curves were two parts of one whole. Like old marrieds. He chuckled, giving up on his pestering advice for now. They were just so peaceful, both nearly asleep despite the cheers from the others at a touchdown on the big screen. The two occupied the plush love seat that sat kitty corner to the big squashy couch.

Vin was sprawled in inelegant abandon on the couch, with JD on the floor, propped up against the front edge of the 'beast' as the boys referred to the couch. It was a new design, kind of like the arty chair, but so soft. Ezra said it was leather filled with feathers, down. Like sittin' on a cloud. Chris strolled back out from the small kitchen area, having sought a refill for his beer. Bottle in hand, he moved slowly, meeting Nate's eyes for a moment with a small smile of his own. He was eyeing the twosome on the loveseat, nodding almost imperceptively. As if satisfied with something.

Chris returned to the big old rocking chair that formed one of the corners of the loose boxing of furniture arranged about the big TV. He suspected that it was an antique, but not a persnickety, delicate, King Luis the something or other, naw, it was a solid, clean-lined American product. Just oldish. And deep honey maple colored, with burls and gnarls showing in the grain of the wide rockers and arm rests, in the flat deep back rests, and in the spreading slats of the seat. Sitting down with that cat-like grace that often went unnoticed due to his overweening personality, Larabee toasted Nate with his bottle neck across the room. Nate raised his own bottle in response. Together, with the others, they would look after the new couple, protect them. Jackson turned his attention to the big screen in time to see the red flag hit the field and hear Vin's curse and JD's groan.

Ezra shifted slightly, instantly feeling Buck's arm tighten. "Ez? Am I crowdin' you too much?" Buck's anxious query was softly whispered in one nearby ear.

Ezra turned and smiled up at his lover. "Never." He reached up and let his fingers stroke down Buck's strong jawbone, then tap his chin once before dropping back in the southerner's lap. "Just trying to keep from hurting you, Buck."

Wilmington reached down with his free hand and captured the errant one of his dearest love. Drew it up to his lips to kiss and nibble gently. "Ezra."

"Umm?"

"How are you? Honest, please."

Green eyes flashed back up. "I should be asking you that question, my love."

"Still got some pain in the shoulder," Buck answered complacently, adding firmly, "But, I wasn't asking about me."

Standish's fingers began to curl tensely in Buck's larger hand.

"Ezra, please. Shall we go to the bedroom? Will you talk to me in private?" Buck's tone was serious and determined. The rest of the room was quiet now, someone had lowered the sound almost to 'mute' on the TV. No one was looking right at them, but everyone was listening.

Ezra began to redden. His fingers clenched into fists. "I don't want to talk about it. About him."

"Him?"

"Don't play with me, Buck. You know who."

Thank you, god, Josiah said silently. This needs to happen. Good for you Buck. We're here to back your play.

Larabee began to rock, the action smooth and soundless on the carpeting. Buck was certainly daring but, he agreed, it had to be done. Ezra had thrown up all his walls over the past two days, buried his trauma behind them, focused his energies on the hurt surveillance expert. Couldn't last. Better to force the issue when we're all here to help if needed. He took another sip of beer, grateful for the relaxed attitude of his 'family' toward their two bonded brothers. Could have turned out a damn sight worse if any of the boys had made objections.

JD began to play with the label on his bottle of beer, peeling at the scalloped edge, easing it up away from the cool, sweaty glass. Things change. He could deal with change, but Ezra had a tough hill to climb just now. Not sure I'd be in such good shape, if it had happened to me. He dropped his head back, feeling Vin's leg behind him.

Vin was listening and wondering. He'd spent some time alone with Josiah, after the sawmill. He'd not been real comfortable after the jazz club, but damn, that creep Jardain had really, really scared him at the mill. Terrified him, more like. And what he'd done to Ezra, wanted to do. If I had this much trouble dealing with things, and I just got mauled a little bit, then, damn, what about Ez?

Nathan leaned forward, as if to get up, but then collapsed back at a tiny headshake from Sanchez. He'd listen for now, but if Ezra got in any real trouble, pain, he'd intervene.

"I'm not playing, baby. Never do that, not about something like this." Buck's large hand gently stroked back Ezra's reddish brown hair, as if soothing him. Kissing the wide expanse of brow, he sat back slightly, not releasing the smaller man from his arm's encirclement nor his hand's entwining. "You need to talk about it. Get it out. Don't hold it in, Ezra, it will fester. Hurt worse."

Standish looked away from the too serious face of the man holding him. For two days, as Buck's pains lessened and his own eased as well, nothing had been said. Chris and the others had somehow fought off the doctors that wanted Ezra back in the hospital. They saw that he was coping. Or so he thought. Now he wasn't so sure. He snuck a quick peek up at his boss across the room. Chris was studying the opening of his beer bottle with great intensity. Ezra relaxed slightly, somehow reassured that he wasn't the target of too many eyes. With a bit more confidence, he looked elsewhere. Vin was playing with a twist of licorice, making knots out of the stretchy black length of candy, then undoing them. Only Vin would consider licorice and beer as a likely combination. JD was slowly and carefully removing, intact, the front label on the bottle of beer he'd been drinking. With trepidation, Ezra's eyes slid over to Nathan. The team worrywart was relaxed in the Arts and Crafts period art chair, eyes closed and hands folded on his stomach. Ezra blew out a little breath of air, feeling Buck's eyes on him, but only Buck's. What of Josiah? He flicked a look at the big profiler only to see him running large wooden worry beads, or prayer beads? through his hands, eyes affixed to the bits of rounded wood. They were all waiting, not threatening, not judging, just waiting quietly for him to speak. Ezra opened his mouth, not at all sure what he'd say.

"I'm really not worth it." His voice came out so small that it seemed to match how he felt now.

Buck studied the man sitting beside him, head bowed now. Ezra's brown hair gleamed with reddish highlights, his shoulders were tense, his hands - pulled free from Buck's - were rubbing on the tops of his pant legs. Buck decided that he better not let any silence build after that little jewel. "Bullshit."

Ezra jerked bodily in his grasp. He yanked the small man closer and put his lips back on Ezra's forehead, speaking now as he pressed his lips there, letting the words leak out. "Ezra, you are my everything. AND, you are a very special, very intelligent, very talented man. Even if I didn't love you, I'd like you and respect you. Want to call you my friend."

"We all would. I mean we do, too!" JD's voice was awkward in the quiet room, but very earnest.

Vin swung his legs over JD's head and sat up on the beast, his feet solidly planted on the floor as he edged forward out of the couch's maw. "'s the truth, Ezra. We all feel that way. You're a good man."

"You're one of us." Chris looked up and over at his undercover agent, finding and meeting sad green eyes with his own narrowed hazel ones. "We'd all step in front of a bullet for you, Ezra, and you damn well better know it. A man doesn't do that a 'nothing.'"

Buck curved one large hand around Ezra's head and turned it until Ezra's face was buried in his shoulder. Then he hugged his friend close. "Ez, listen to them. Listen to me. Don't know where you got this idea from but it's all wrong."

"After what happened--" The southerner's thick accent was hard to understand now, as if he was hiding his words. He shoved his head against Buck's shoulder, then forced himself away enough to raise his head and study Buck. "I'm so dirty now. How can you stand to touch me?"

"Aw shit." Buck sat back against the thick arm of the loveseat and plunged his hands under Ezra's sweater to hook them beneath the smaller man's armpits. He lifted with no visible strain, literally lifting the other man up into the air and then forward, settling Ezra astraddle his legs. "You are the most thick-skulled, stubborn, rattle-brained --" He shook his head, defeated in trying to find another description of the man's blindness. "Ezra." He wrapped his long arms all the way around the compact form, tugging him into a tight embrace, "Am I touching you now?"

"Yes." The word, like Ezra's others, was small, tight.

"Do I feel like I'm disgusted, upset with touching you?"

Ezra didn't immediately answer, as if testing the question against the tactile sensations he was experiencing. Buck's heart was beating slowly, like a big drum against his cheek. There was no sense of withdrawal or repulsion. Just love. It surrounded him, Buck's love. Something he'd always wanted. But, when he'd try to give his own, it had never seemed to be enough before. Why now?

"Why now?"

"Why what now?" Buck sounded puzzled again.

"Why do you love me now?" The 'and not before' was heard clearly by all the men.

Buck tucked his chin and rested his head against Ezra's, sighing. "I realized something, when I thought I was going to lose you to another. When I saw you on that stage looking so fine, but looking at him, not me. Up 'til then, I just took you for granted. You just gave and gave and never asked for anything, Ez. Don't know when desire became need, but I need you now. Took this to make me realize what losing you would do to me." He released Ezra enough so that the man could sit back in his lap, so that their eyes could meet and Ezra would be able to read the honesty he was trying so hard to share. "Before, I just tried to keep on being the me that'd I'd become. Kept you at a distance using the girls." He felt Ezra flinch and saw the light dampen in those green eyes that were locked with his. "I should have known then what a treasure I'd been given but I didn't 'cause I was a stubborn, thick-skulled, rattle-brained so and so. And, I was afraid. I was afraid to become too serious, to let you into my heart. Afraid I'd lose you, like--"

"Like Sarah." Chris' voice was soft across the room. No condemnation there, just understanding.

Buck's eyes flew up and to the hazel ones that met them with quiet concern. Saw the warmth and care.

Ezra, though, was baffled and full of wonder. Buck had loved Sarah? And lost her to Chris? He twisted his neck around to look over at Larabee who hadn't stopped rocking, one hand supporting a half-empty beer bottle on one arm of the big old rocker. Chris returned his look without anger. "He loved Sarah?" Ezra's question came out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," Chris nodded, eyes returning to his oldest friend's. "When she chose me, near broke his heart. I'd have given him anything, but I couldn't give him Sarah. She was part of me by then and I couldn't let her go." Chris looked back at Ezra. "He loved her, would have made her happy, too. But, Ezra, from what I can see, his heart didn't break 'cause he didn't love her like he loves you."

Ezra's eyes widened and he swiveled his head back to look up into deep blue eyes that seemed like limitless oceans just now. "Buck?"

"Chris is right. Took me years to figure that out, took you." Buck leaned forward and gently captured Ezra's lips for a delicate, soft kiss. "I love you, Ezra, and it's a love that has no boundaries. I think it crept up on me and then jumped my bones when you were hurt."

"Then you don't think that I--"

"Ezra, stop it. Please stop trying to take any blame in this. You did your job, hell you did it so well that the rest of us were running around trying to keep up with you." Buck sighed and looked back over at Chris. "Tell him, Chris."

Larabee nodded and waited until Ezra looked at him over his shoulder again. "You surprised everyone, Ezra. Even me, and I know how good you are. You got in in less than a day. No one was ready for that. And, you paid for it." Larabee stood up suddenly and in three large steps was standing in front of the couple on the loveseat. Ezra's head was tipped back now to try to maintain eye contact with his boss. "You are that good. You are the best, Standish, the best in the business. We are all proud of you."

The small man blushed lightly and looked down at the floor. Chris reached in and put a knuckle on his chin, raising his head slowly. "Ezra? You did nothing to be ashamed of. Bad things happened. They do. God knows, I've found that out the hard way." Chris' eyes took on a shadowed, pained expression, then cleared a bit as he smiled. "The only enemy you have to face, my friend, is yourself."

Josiah stood up and stretched, feeling the heaviness of the moment. A lot had been said, much more needed saying, but no one was going to be good for anything if they kept at this too long at one sitting. "Know your enemy, Ezra. Know yourself. We'll help you find a way passed the pain, son. There's enough love and friendship in this room to defeat your worst demons. Just give it time." He looked over at his own best friend. "Nathan, I think we all need a break and something healthful to eat."

Vin groaned theatrically and flopped back on the couch, one leg knocking JD under the chin hard. The younger man's head snapped back and he yelped, "Hey! Watch it, Vin!"

Nathan, though, had heard the underlying appeal in Josiah's voice and met it with his own brand of subtle humor. "I think you're right, Josiah, some food to balance the energies consumed in stress. That's medically sound advice." He nodded sagely, hiding his grin at the desperate look on Vin's face as the sharpshooter cricked his neck up to look over and see if Jackson was really serious. "Maybe I could call my health food store? Soycurds and some rucola salad should be good."

Chris had broken eye contact, backing up to prop himself against the far side of the overstuffed loveseat, still near Ezra and Buck, but not touching. He smiled as Vin and JD groaned in unison. "Food's a good idea," he agreed.

"Chris, that ain't food, that's--" Vin was speechless.

"An insult to the palate." Ezra finished, drawing one leg up over Buck's lap and twisting around to sit sideways on the big man. He settled against Buck more comfortably, feeling those wonderful arms continue to hold him close. "I'd suggest something a bit more pedestrian, like--"

"PIZZA!" JD called from the floor where he was rubbing his jaw.

"Or, pancakes." Josiah smiled benignly at the sudden interest thrown his way from around the room. "I happen to know that Ezra's kitchen is stocked with pancake flour AND real maple syrup."

Ezra smiled as well but didn't speak.

"Hm, pancakes and maple syrup." Chris actually smiled over at the profiler. "You offering to make them?"

Sanchez grinned. "My efforts in the community kitchen of St. Martin's should suffice for training for such a moment as this. I think I can make enough to even satisfy the empty legs of a couple of young studs we got here." He cocked an eyebrow at Vin and JD who were both looking very interested and not the least bit insulted.

Nathan, happy at the playful tone that had supplanted the high tension and emotional overload of the room, lay back in his chair, waving one arm airily. "Let us know when it's ready."

Josiah started to nod when Chris spoke again. "I'll help."

Dead silence as everyone stopped in mid-breath. Then Ezra raised his head from Buck's chest and drawled, "I knew it! A 'closet' kitchen chef. Mr. Larabee, you are scaring the young ones."

Chris only grinned and walked past Josiah, catching one suspender in passing and dragging the man after him, chuckles from both men trailing behind.

"This, I want to see." Vin was off the couch and following, JD on his heels.

Nathan suddenly realized that he was the only one left with the lovebirds. Time for a strategic exit, give them some time alone, however short. "Guess I better get in there or those boys will ruin your kitchen, Ezra." He regretfully rose from the wonderful chair and strolled out of the room.

Ezra heaved a big sigh and dropped his head back on to Buck's chest. "Hey there, buddy?" Buck nuzzled at one ear. "You alright now?"

"No." Ezra's voice was still sad, but it was no longer that hollow sounding, almost scary sound. Just pensive. "But I think maybe I will be."

Ezra stood consideringly in front of his wardrobe. His hand hesitated as it glided along just a breath above a row of neatly hung, stylishly tailored suit coat jackets. In the end, it settled on an old football jersey belonging to Buck that hung in lonely splendor at one end of the walk-in closet. Without another look back at the abandoned finery, he yanked the overlarge shirt off its hanger and pulled it down over his head, ignoring the muss that made of his neatly combed hair.

He walked back out into the bedroom, the big shirt hanging down to mid-thigh on him, humming a nearly silent tune. His one pair of jeans slid on in comfortable softness from much use. Rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully, he strolled by the bathroom and on into the living room where he remembered discarding his running shoes last night. Buck would be here soon to pick him up. No one wanted him behind the wheel of a vehicle just yet because he still startled very easily. He listened to the scratchy sound of his two-day beard and began to wonder if anyone was going to say anything to him yet. No one had. Not yet.

He sank into the mushroom sofa, letting the softness of the down filled leather surround him, hold him safe until Buck arrived. This had been their first night apart since -- well, since. Buck had to work late and it was easier to bunk down back at his old shared apartment with JD. He'd called. Several times, to make sure Ezra was all right. Of course, I'm all right. What else would I be? I'm a big boy now. Boy. Pussy. His pussy. Ezra shuddered and blanked his mind, a new technique he'd developed to survive the constantly resurfacing memories of Jardain's treatment of him.

He was still sitting there, staring straight ahead at nothing, when Buck let himself in with a key. Chris was right behind him. Together they moved cautiously into the apartment, down the entryway to the archway into the living room. Buck stopped and sagged back against the wall, his face settling into his recently new and seemingly permanent lines of despair. Larabee laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed firmly, then continued on past his friend and into the big room.

Chris padded over to the furniture, over to where Ezra sat like a statue. "Ezra?"

Nothing. Larabee sat down next to his undercover agent and waited a moment, then tried again. "Ezra?"

Still nothing. Chris carefully covered one of Ezra's hands with his own and squeezed. The smaller man blinked slowly, then swiveled his head to look at Larabee. He started back with a small cry of alarm, nearly falling off the couch. By this time, Buck had hurried in and was prepared, catching his lover whilst murmuring reassurances.

Larabee sat back and watched. Buck's right. He's gotten worse. He waited for the two men to notice him again.

Buck Wilmington had been in fear for several days. Ezra was withdrawing and refused to leave the bedroom, wanting only to hold on to Buck and sleep. Getting him to do anything was a chore, eating nearly an impossibility. It was as if Ezra had decided to withdraw from life itself and Buck no longer believed that his love was enough. He'd had several quiet talks with Josiah on the cell phone when Ezra was asleep. Finally it was decided to try to ease Ezra back into life by removing Buck. Buck had gone back to work. He'd kept in touch with Ezra all day. Phoning nearly every hour at first.

When he'd get back to Ezra's place in the evenings, Ezra would be wandering around in a robe, smoking. Smoking. Ezra didn't smoke. Or, at least, he hadn't used to. He refused to talk about it, actually denying doing it at one point, a burning butt in one hand as he adamantly insisted that he didn't smoke at home. The disjointedness of things was spooky. At the suggestion that he might need to see a psychologist, he'd wrapped himself around Buck's long form and cried, saying Buck was all he needed.

This was progress, sort of, Buck decided. At least he's dressed. He kissed the slender neck and petted the small body, soothing away panic with simple reassurances, waiting out this latest attack. Finally, Ezra calmed enough for Chris to see a spark of awareness. "Chris? When did you get here?"

"A while ago." Larabee sighed. Buck had made no headway, Ezra was refusing to go seek help voluntarily. "Ezra, I came to take you in to see Doctor Fienman. He's holding the afternoon open for you."

"Fienman? The shrink? No." Ezra rubbed frantically against Buck's large form, seeking something, he was no longer sure what.

Buck spoke up now. "Ez, baby, you're getting worse. You need help and I can't seem to do whatever it is you need."

"This isn't you, Standish." Chris leaned forward. "Ezra, you are going with us, one way or another."

"I don't understand." Green eyes were wide with pain and fear, rimmed with panic as they sought out first Buck's, then when his lover ducked away, Chris' eyes.

"Look at yourself." Chris let his disappointment show in his tone of voice. "You're a mess. That's not the Ezra Standish we know."

Ezra sat up straighter, reaching unconsciously for the open pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. Chris' hand snaked out and knocked them out of reach as he continued, "And that's not you either. You don't smoke. Ezra! We have to fix this."

Standish sank down, bending over and ducking his head until he'd curled into a small ball in front of Buck on the couch. Chris looked up into Buck's sad eyes. "Let's go." He stood.

Buck's eyes widened. "Go?"

"He doesn't want help. He wants to suffer. He's enjoying it." Larabee's eyes had dropped to Ezra's form and stayed there as he kept speaking. "He's gone soft. Pathetic. A real wuss."

"Puss. Pussy." The quiet word was hissed from the small man in front of them. Then, again, this time screamed: "PUSSY!"

Buck fell backwards, nearly toppling off the end of the couch himself in his surprise at the sudden violence. Chris stood his ground. "Yeah, pussy. That's a good word for how he's acting." Chris didn't address Ezra directly now, facing a bewildered Buck instead. "Pussy."

"NOOOO!" Ezra was suddenly surging up to his feet, hands out like claws as he launched himself at Larabee.

Chris caught the crooked hands easily and pulled them to the sides, dragging his friend close, then wrapping his arms easily around the writhing body. "No, you're right. Ezra, you're not a pussy." He let one hand come up to stroke the man's head. "Who told you that you were?"

"Jardain." Ezra whispered his reply his whole being rippling with disgust and anger.

"Did you like it?"

"NO!" Ezra tried to jerk free from Chris' arms but without any success. He'd become weak from lack of food and exercise, attitude. "no" he said again, his voice small.

"But you call yourself that now, don't you?"

"I -- I --" Ezra began to shake his head vehemently in the negative, nearly hurting himself against Chris' chest.

Buck came up behind them, understanding beginning to lighten his eyes. He gently but firmly grasped Ezra's head and held him still. "Easy, baby."

"You think you are one, don't you?" Chris continued, relentless.

"No. Yes." Ezra slumped between the two men. "He said I was his. Said he'd always be back for me."

"When did he say that?" Buck was puzzled, he didn't remember that.

"The other night."

Dark blue eyes and hard hazel ones met in confusion. "What night, Ezra?" Chris demanded.

"When he called."

Buck grabbed Ezra's shoulders and spun him out of Chris' arms and around to face him. "He what?"

Ezra hung his head. "He said he'd hurt you. If I told."

Chris edged over to stand beside Buck, better to see the desperate man in Wilmington's arms. "Ezra, let me get this right. Jardain called you on the telephone? Spoke to you?"

"Yes." Ezra could barely lift his head and face these men. He was so empty.

"Chris." Buck's voice had taken on new animation, determination.

Larabee looked up and nodded. "I'm on it right now." He paused to grip Ezra's shoulder. "Ezra, you aren't alone anymore. You should have told us what was happening. We will take care of this. I promise."

Ezra heard the confident words but doubted. Jardain's ugly, smooth voice rang in his head. The soft, sibilant words poisoned his brain. In the distance, he heard the door to the apartment open and close. Knew he was alone now with Buck. Hesitantly he looked up into compassionate eyes, understanding ones. God, he didn't deserve Buck. But he was grateful for him. Thank you god, he thought as he melted into Buck's arms again.

Larabee was on a mission. He was in a towering rage. Somehow, Jardain, who was still in a prison hospital, was getting to a phone and calling Ezra. Talking shit to him. Brainwashing him from a distance. This is going to stop. He slammed the Ram into his parking space at the federal building and then climbed the stairs, two and three at a time. In the truck, he'd had a short conversation with a quieter, stronger Buck. Buck had called once he'd put Ezra down in bed. Warned Chris not to do anything that would get him in trouble. Larabee grimaced. I just want to shoot that fuckin' bastard. He shook his head. He needed help to deal with this, he needed the rest of the team.

Buck stared at Ezra's cell phone. It sat innocently silent on the kitchen table. He sat in a chair in front of it, willing it to ring. Call now. When I can hear you, not Ezra. Call you son of a bitch.

Silence, except for the sound of a slow drip from the faucet. Have to get that fixed soon. Ezra will have a fit once he's back to normal. Buck finally began to believe that that would happen. After Chris' visit and their discovery that Ezra had been getting calls from Jardain, things made more sense. Ezra's behavior, his withdrawal and fearfulness were explained. Buck's hands curled into fists of anger. The cell phone had been replaced by a new one for Ezra to use. This one, with the known number, would no longer be anywhere near Ezra. How the hell Jardain got the number in the first place was beyond Buck.

He eyed the object of his wrath suspiciously. A movement at the corner of his vision caused him to blink and turn. Ezra, looking more natural, more himself, stood tousled and half-awake in the doorway.

"Hey, baby, you're up." Buck's voice automatically warmed with open affection.

"Buck."

Ezra was not a morning person. And, whenever he happened to wake up, it was morning as far as Ezra was concerned, regardless of the time of day. One of his many endearing quirks as far as Buck was concerned. Let's face it, I'm smitten, he thought happily, more relaxed than he'd been in some time. "Want some coffee?"

"Coffee." Ezra stumbled into the room, rubbing at his eyes and yawning mightily, actually looking relaxed for the first time since all this started.

Buck grinned and stood up, reaching out a hand to gently guide his lover into a seat. "Just sit down, Ezra, I'll see to the coffee."

Busy with the electric percolator, Buck had his back turned to Ezra when the southerner noticed the cell phone on the table. He picked it up and recognized it instantly. What is my phone doing out here? I thought I had it in the back? He puzzled over this miraculously moving machinery as his lover bustled about in the background, fixing his morning eye-opener. "Buck?"

"Um."

"Why is my phone out here?"

Buck paused, stopping his movements to turn and face Ezra. "I didn't want you to get any more calls on that one. You have a new one in the bedroom."

"New one? I thought I saw one in there." His voice trailing off, Ezra studied the phone in his hand and tipped his head to the side as if waiting for it to talk. It rang.

Ezra dropped the phone, startled. Stared at it as if mesmerized and then slowly brought it up to his ear, activating the receive button. Buck was so frantic that nothing came out when he tried to yell at Ezra not to answer it. The breakfast bar was between him and the table, between him and reaching the damn phone before Ezra could. At the sudden paleness as Ezra's color left his face, Buck felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Drop the phone, Ez. Don't listen!" his voice sounded hoarse and scared even to his own ears.

He was moving in long strides to reach Ezra but it was clearly too late. He snatched the thing from a boneless hand and slammed it against his own ear. Only silence. He pulled it away and looked down at the number ID on the small screen. The prison infirmary. He knew that number now. He and Chris had done their homework. He recognized it instantly. SHIT! He had to force himself not to hurl the thing into the wall. It was evidence and had to be saved. He turned to Ezra.

Oh god, again! Again with the sick words and hateful names. Ezra felt as if his world was coming apart, all his glue gone. He looked up as Buck now slowly approached him. Green eyes shimmered, then overflowed silently as he stood there helpless to control himself. He felt Buck's arms tenderly encircle him and pull him close. He shut his eyes and let himself be drawn back against his love, his strength. When did I become so damn dependent? he thought angrily. He was unable to muster the will to push away from his man. He swallowed harshly and rubbed his wet eyes against Buck's tee shirt.

"Hey, Ez? Can you tell me about it?" Buck lowered his head and nudged Ezra's with his own. "Please?"

"It was him again. He -- he said I was going to want his -- his dick inside soon, so he was doing special exercises for me. He called me his sweet little pussy. Said he hoped I was saving myself for him." Ezra's voice was soft but clear. Sharing all this with Buck seemed to help, it removed him from the immediacy of it all and he finally began to see it in perspective. He straightened slightly and looked up at Buck's attentive face. "Only, Buck, now that I think about it, I don't think that was really Jardain's voice."

Wilmington only nodded. He and Chris had already checked. Jardain's throat was badly damaged by the blunt spike of the shoe heel puncturing it. The doctors doubted he'd ever talk again. Yet someone was calling. This was proof of it. It wasn't just Ezra's imagination like Dr. Fienman had suggested. Buck sighed and hugged Ezra tighter. "We'll just have to find out who's doing this for him. 'cause someone is, Ezra."

"Yes." Standish had been watching Buck's face and suddenly realized something. "You thought I was making this up?"

Buck's eyes swung down in astonishment. "Never! Ezra, I know you too well, you'd never run a con over something like this, it's not in you, baby." Buck shook his head and kissed Ezra's nose. "We needed some proof though. This call, bad as it was, is the proof we needed." He looked back down at the small phone sitting on the kitchen table. "Chris can get a warrant with this now, his hands were tied before."

Ezra seemed to swell in Buck's arms, his entire being seemed to grow, become stronger, straighter. "I want a piece of this Buck." He spoke seriously. "I really thought that I was losing it. I was doubting myself," he said softly, his eyes meeting Wilmington's with new understanding. He lifted a hand to gently stroke Buck's face. "He tried to get to me again. This time, like last time, I have you and the others. He just doesn't get it."

"Nope." Buck turned to plant a kiss on the palm of the hand touching his face with such care. "You are going to be fine, baby. More than fine. And putting this animal into a deeper hole will be the final thing you need."

"No, Buck, I don't even need that. Not now, not knowing it's him, not me, that's sick. I feel--" Ezra paused and thoughtfully traced Buck's upper lip with one finger, "I feel liberated." He flashed a smile and stood up on his toes, hand going to the back of Buck's neck to drag the man's head down.

Buck let himself be pulled close and eagerly met the seeking lips of his love. He felt his heart begin to throb more strongly, joyfully. Ezra was back! Finally, truly, really back! It had been two long weeks of hell. But now it was over. Well, not until he and Chris and the rest of the boys finished with Jardain and whatever sick confederate he'd used to help him, but now, Ezra would be okay. More than okay he thought with a grin as Ezra's tongue began to probe at his lips, pushing for admittance.

Buck leaned back against the kitchen table, spreading his long legs. Ezra quickly snuggled closer, reaching up with both hands now to loop his arms around Buck's neck and pull himself up against the taller man, his body fitted tightly between those strong legs, his burgeoning cock, confined in the simple jeans he wore seemed ready to press through against Buck's responding hardness. "Buck," he moaned throatily, feeling two big hands cup his ass and lift him higher still, so that they could kiss more completely. Lying there on top of the bigger man's tilted, supporting body, Ezra felt like he was finally coming home.

"Oh, god, Buck, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Ezra, and we'll be alright now. You'll see," Buck spoke huskily against Ezra's mouth.

Then all talking stopped as the two men seemed to meld into one, seamlessly sealed together. Only the soft exhalation of breaths as they pulled back for air gave indication of two where one stood. Buck smiled into his sweetheart's so green eyes and curled his shoulders slightly as he bent to capture and lift the smaller man up into his arms. Ezra, with a single-minded intensity, was once again kissing him, small frantic kisses all over his face, cupped between Ezra's fine boned hands. He seemed oblivious to his new position as Buck strode out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom.

With care, Buck lowered Ezra down on to their bed in the master bedroom, climbing on to the bed with the smaller man, unable and unwilling to be separated. He was on all fours over Ezra now, lightly rubbing his body up and down the length of the southerner's squirming form.

"Clothing?" Ezra panted, nearly mindless with heat and want.

"Yeah," Buck snatched at his own shirt and dragged it off over his head before returning to his rocking, rubbing motion.

Ezra actually giggled, fumbling with Buck's belt, then jean's zip. "No, Buck, ALL the clothing!"

Wilmington blinked lazily and grinned, sitting back on his haunches to help Ezra with the fastenings. His baby was back! "Gotta get these things off you, too," he said in a whisper, hands flying to the simple shirt that Ezra had on and shoving it off his shoulders and down, temporarily restraining Ezra's arms.

The smaller man jerked free and then wriggled and pushed, getting his own jeans shoved away from his hips and down toward his knees. "Help me, Buck--"

Large hands reached down and tugged the crumpled clothing clear as Buck rolled to one side and kicked his way clear of his own pants. Then he rolled back, and savored the feel of Ezra's strong, compact body, skin to skin with his own. He let their chests brush together, the fine hairs on Ezra's scraping against his own, darker fur. With a growl, Buck nuzzled down until he could bite Ezra's shoulder, mark him. "No one else, baby, no one else. You belong to me."

Ezra's glazed green eyes were hot with desire and love as he surged up against Buck's long hard body, wrapping his arms and legs around the man. "Mine! You belong to me!" Ezra licked and chewed his way up one arm and across the shoulder to worry at the side of Buck's neck. "No more women, Buck. You don't stray," he warned with a growl of his own.

"No more. Got you, baby, nothing else needed." Buck's promise was half swallowed by Ezra's suddenly hungry mouth.

The desperation of the coupling was matched by the heat, intensity, and sheer joyous love. The two men clung together, pumping each other mindlessly as they each strove to devour the other's mouth. The explosion, when it came, was so complete that they each screamed the other's name and collapsed into something between sleep and unconsciousness.

Ezra slowly woke to the sound of his door buzzer, relentlessly piercing the silence of his apartment. He felt warm and damp, sweaty. He was pressed tightly against Buck's chest, his head resting on one of Buck's shoulders. He scraped his chin, then cheek against Buck's chest, letting a nipple push back at him. He ignored the buzzer until he felt Buck's body waken beneath him.

There was a moment more of quiet. Then the buzzer began again, this time accompanied by heavy pounding on the door.

Buck wrapped one arm around Ezra's shoulders and tugged him back down on to the mattress beside him. He rolled up on to one elbow and smiled down into heavy lidded green eyes. "The boys are here."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Ez."

"If we don't answer the damn door, do you think they will depart?"

"Our boys?" Buck shook his head regretfully, though happiness and mischief shone from his sparking blue eyes. "Nope. They never give up."

"Nevah?"

Buck grinned, his mustache a dark accent to the wide slash of white teeth. "Never." He kissed Ezra lightly. "You stay here. You smell of sex and lots of it."

"You don't?"

"Hell, Ez, I always smell of sex. It's my animal magnetism. The boys will just think I'm normal."

Ezra grinned up in delight. "Normal? Mr. Wilmington, you are exceptional!"

"Well, there is that," Buck said playfully as a thumping sound added to the pounding and the buzzer. Likely they'd taken to kicking at the door too. He pushed himself up and back with a sigh. "Don't go anywhere."

"Nevah."

Buck stood braced at the edge of the bed, finding himself almost lightheaded. Experimentally, he took a step away from the large bed and steadied himself. "Alright, alright, I'm coming."

From behind him, he heard Ezra's smiling voice say, "Never without me, Bucky, never without me."

He looked back over his shoulder as he pulled on his discarded jeans, carefully tucking himself in. "Ezra, you are an evil man."

"No, Bucky, not evil, just lustful."

Buck loved the playful quality that sung through Ezra's words, his tone of voice. This was the Ezra he'd fallen for right at the beginning. Oh, yeah. We're back! He flashed a final grin at the slowly stirring figure still on top of the bedclothes, and then slipped from the room, closing the door behind himself protectively.

The sounds at the door were louder out here. He hurried to the door and called out, "Hold on, I'm here!" Then he jerked open the door only to face five drawn weapons all pointed his way. "Shit boys! I ain't even armed!"

The rest of team 7 stared at a very rumpled and happy looking Buck Wilmington standing barefoot and shirtless in Ezra's small entryway. Guns slipped back in holsters, heart rates slowed. It was JD, surprisingly, not Chris Larabee, who stepped forward to punch Buck in the jaw with a strong right hook.

"Ow!" Wilmington let the strike drop him to the floor and rubbed his jaw with one hand, supporting himself with his other as he leaned back to look up at his teammates crowding into the small hall. "Well, do come in everyone."

Chris squatted down in front of Buck and reached out to touch the swelling jaw. "You'll live." He studied his oldest friend. "Something happened. Something good." He relaxed at the smile that shined from Buck's eyes. Standing again, he pulled up his friend. "Tell us."

"Ezra's back." As if that said it all, Buck smiled at his assembled friends, seeing Vin slouched sideways against the wall, with Josiah's and Nathan's broad shoulders filling the width of the narrow hall, JD simmering to one side, rubbing a fist with his other palm and staring squint-eyed at his big brother. Swinging his eyes back to Chris, Buck's face lost some of its good humor. "We had another call, only this time I was there. Kept the phone without disconnecting."

"And it was from?"

"The prison infirmary."

Larabee nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "So he's got someone inside doing his crap now."

"Yeah." Buck began to back and turn, leading his friends further into the apartment, "and, that was when it finally got through to Ezra that it was another attack, that he wasn't at fault somehow. That the guy is just sick." Buck's serious tone told them as much as his words.

By now everyone was standing in the living room, all having noticed the shut door to the bedroom just down the hall, all waiting for more.

"Sit, sit." Buck swept a hand at the chairs and started for the kitchen. "I have the phone here."

Chris followed him in to the kitchen and looked at the device over Wilmington's shoulder. "Got him," he said with satisfaction.

"Yeah." Buck handed it over, glad to be rid of it finally.

"JD?" Chris called over his shoulder. The young tech was instantly in the doorway. "Do NOT disconnect this. I want it traced and entered in evidence. Take it up to Travis' office and get him to see it. Vin!" his louder call bringing the sharpshooter to the door as well. "Go with JD, make sure that this doesn't leave your collective sight until it's logged and witnessed by Travis or one of his assistants."

Vin gripped JD's shoulder as the younger man carefully wrapped the phone in a dishtowel he'd grabbed from Ezra's workbench. "Don't worry, cowboy, we'll see to it."

JD's dark eyes sought out Buck's. "Sorry about the hit."

Buck smiled back. "It's alright, kid, I probably deserved it."

Chris intervened, shooing his two agents out the door. "Buck, you always deserve it, just on general principles."

"Now, Pard, you wound me."

Larabee sat down heavily on one of the kitchen stools. "Tell me." His tone was low and private, demanding more now that they were alone.

"It's really going to be okay now, Chris. Honest. Ezra finally came out of that funk he's been in. I think me being here when he got the call, that's what finally broke through for him." He hesitated, then added, "We had a reconciliation."

"Yeah. You might want to finish zipping up your reconciled pants there, Buck," Chris said dryly but with warmth that told his old friend that Larabee was relieved and happy too.

"Yep," Buck fumbled with his zipper and snap, then looked up again. "I'll go see if Ezra's ready to come out now."

"You do that. Like to see him." Larabee stood up and looked around vaguely. "Guess I can fix some coffee." He nodded dismissal at Wilmington who was already halfway out the door, then called out into the living room, "Josiah? Nathan? Want some coffee in here?"

Buck passed by the two big men who were rising and heading for the kitchen in response to Chris' call. He took a deep breath and exhaled grandly, his smile wide as he opened back up the door to the bedroom.

Ezra was gone.

"He's gone after Jardain, I know it."

Nathan was efficiently binding the bleeding knuckles of Buck's hand, trying to keep it still as the man's simmering anger had his whole body vibrating. "Hold still, Buck."

Chris was on his cell phone in the kitchen, speaking low-voiced but sharply. He'd caught Vin and JD on the way and detoured them toward the prison, intent on stopping Ezra before he got there. Josiah had taken off after him with his suburban, trying to spot him on the way -- the Jag was untouched in the garage.

Nathan was trying to calm Buck and get the hand fixed that he'd punched into the bedroom wall. So far, Nathan had had more success with the wrappings than the calming.

Chris came back out into the living room, pocketing his cell phone. "Buck? We're going to need you at the prison. Right there with Jardain. Knowing Ezra, he'll find a way in, no matter what we do. I figure you're the only one who might talk him off this."

Buck sulked, staring at the floor, his posture still stiff and angry. Nathan backed away, shaking his head at Chris without speaking.

"If I go there, I'm likely to do him myself."

"Which is why I'm going with you." Chris turned toward Nathan. "We're taking the Jag. If that sneaky little son of a bitch is hanging around waiting for us to hightail it, I don't want that car here for him."

Buck looked up, surprised. "You think he might still be here?"

Chris shrugged. "Ezra is always trickier than anyone else I've ever met, there's just no predicting him."

Nathan interrupted, "So what do you want me to do?"

"Take the Ram. Make a circuit around the federal building and then sit there by the motor pool with your cell phone on. He might try for an official vehicle."

Jackson stood, catching the keys to Larabee's truck as the team leader tossed them over. "Okay, but keep me in the loop on this. I don't think we need some prison medico playing with Ezra if you catch up to him there."

Chris paused, thinking, then nodded sharply. "You're right. If we get tied up there, we say that Ezra can only be treated by his current physician, 'Doctor' Jackson. Make sure you bring in your med kit, if you have to come."

Jackson gave the team two-fingered salute and headed out the door. Buck, who'd been sitting on Ezra's couch, tugging on his boots, stood up now and faced Larabee. "Chris, he's a tough little guy. If he's got it in his head to waste Jardain, he'll probably do it."

"Not on my watch." Chris grabbed Buck's nearest arm and steered him toward to door. "Come on, we're going to see to it that he doesn't kill off his career along with that turd."

Ezra sat on top of the three-story apartment stack that held his townhouse apartment. The roof was cool and dark. He watched in fascination as his team members emerged in quick succession from below. When Nathan took the Ram alone, he raised both eyebrows, then lowered them and cursed softly as Chris and Buck came out and went to the garage, Chris backing the Jag out with sure expertise. Found out. They know, or Chris is just guessing. Either way, I'll need new wheels now. He looked down the street consideringly.

Chris roared into the prison's visitor's parking lot. The Jag handled like silk, was a pleasure to drive. Only, he was so worried, that his savage handling had it growling and crouched like the predator it was named after. With a hard twist, he had the ignition off and the key out, was bounding out with Buck plunging free from the passenger side. The two men slammed the car doors and took off at a dead run for the security entrance, pulling their IDs out as they went.

Even though it was late, the warden was still there. Buck had been on the phone with DA Travis while Chris drove, and Travis had called Warden Kent. The man was waiting at the first gate. With Kent as a chaperone, the two men bypassed the security gates from then on and were at the doors to the infirmary quickly.

When Chris had demanded an investigation earlier yesterday, Kent's people had denied the possibility of Jardain making any phone calls or anyone else making them for him for that matter. Travis had passed on the news tonight that they now had substantial proof that calls were coming from the infirmary. It was a grim and angry Charles Kent who escorted the two harried ATF agents up and into the prison bowels and finally to the infirmary doors.

Bursting in, Larabee's eyes swept the row of cots, easily spotting Jardain at the one closest to the barred window. He ignored the man. They had doctor's testimony that he'd probably never be able to speak again without some mechanical assistance. Buck at his side, Larabee stalked over to the small glassed in cubicle where two male nurses sat working on charts and sipping coffee. Kent had told them that this was the night shift and that since the call had been made earlier in the day, the man most likely to have made it was not here.

Pushing into the close space, Larabee and Wilmington towered over the surprised med techs. "Either of you work with Jardain?"

Gordan Bassett stood up slowly, unfolding his length of string-bean body to an impressive 6' 5". "I do."

Chris grunted and stepped into Bassett's space, shoving against his nametag. "Likely you'll die tonight if you don't cooperate."

Paling under the casual comment, the nurse looked over at where the warden stood in the doorway. "Sir?"

"These men are ATF agents, Bassett, and they believe that a rogue agent may try to infiltrate here tonight. His target is likely to be Jardain and anyone associated with him."

"But I just change his bedpan, give him meds," protested the thin, tall man nervously.

"We need you to stay in here." Larabee looked back at Kent. "This glass bullet proof?" The warden nodded, looking slightly sick.

"Okay, Buck, you want here or down by Jardain?"

Wilmington looked out at the row of cots. He took a deep breath. "Jardain."

"Remember--"

"Don't worry Chris. I'll keep it together." Wilmington turned on his heel and strode out and down the room, ending up looming over the bedded prisoner. Larabee watched in silence, then sat in the only empty chair left in the room.

"I'll just see to extra guards for this area," Kent muttered and backed away.

Larabee shrugged. Ezra would get here, it didn't matter what they did. When his undercover agent was determined, nothing stopped him. Feeling a sense of pride at the thought, Chris frowned. Right now, he isn't any too balanced. We have to protect him from himself.

Ezra slicked back his hair with the grease he'd found in one of the guards' lockers. He straightened the beige short tie and made sure all the buttons were properly fastened on the short uniform coat jacket. He faded out of the room with several badges and magnetic strip door openers, already having memorized the floor plans posted for fire exits. His green eyes were dark and hard, like chips of polished emerald, glittering with contained anger.

The empty hallways had no opportunity to echo with his silent tread. He slipped down corridor after corridor, a shadow. Closed stairwells held no challenge for him and he was on the proper floor, honing in on the medical facility within ten minutes of his entry to the prison. Breaking in is apparently easier than breaking out, he thought, edging closer to the fire exit for the infirmary. No frontal assault. I shall need to see if Chris has figured out my destination. If any of team 7 were here, he'd have to -- he'd just -- Ezra swallowed, the burning anger and bitterness growing with every step. He wasn't sure what he'd do if any of his teammates were here. He prayed he wouldn't have to find out.

Herv - wait for me. I'm coming. We have one last meeting to do. One last time to be together. Ezra's lips were drawn back in a silent snarl.

Herv Jardain smiled up at the bleak face of the tall ATF agent. The macho man. He remembered him from the hospital and from The Soiled Dove. If he was here, then little Ezra had been crying out wolf. Only, I can't speak so they'll never be able to prove I had anything to do with those calls. Poor little pussy. Herv chuckled soundlessly.

Buck stared down at the man who'd twice tried to take Ezra, hurt him, and now was harassing him by phone. You are one sick fuck. He glanced around, noting window and door. Door? Moving slowly toward the fire exit, he stopped and checked the restraints on Jardain. Not tight enough. He tugged the straps tight enough to elicit a pained grunt from the man. He grinned down at him. "Just want to make sure you're safe, porky." He laughed silently at the murderous look that was shot his way, taking in the thick bandages around the man's neck and just shrugging.

When Buck looked up, it was to see the door in front of him ease open in silence. He froze, not even breathing. Waited. For a moment all remained still, then a cautious head poked around the edge of the door, two brilliant green eyes looking down at Jardain's head. The hatred in those eyes would remain with Buck for a long time. Then, as if sensing his presence, the eyes raised and met his. And time stood still.

Chris rose slowly to his feet in the small glassed in cubicle. He watched with dread as Ezra appeared at the back fire-exit of the small infirmary. Buck was standing over Jardain, facing Ezra. Please god, let Buck get through to him. With fear and regret, he pulled his weapon and edged toward the door. He flipped open his cell phone as he watched the two men face off, transfixed. They were speaking, he could tell, but couldn't hear what was being said, could only see the lips move. Well, Ezra's, Buck has his back to me. Chris shivered. Ezra's face was white and his eyes burned like green fire.

Without taking his eyes off the nearby confrontation, Larabee whispered instructions to Josiah. Josiah would reach the others, let them know what was happening. Summon Nathan, just in case. Put Vin and JD back on track with that cell phone evidence, and Josiah himself would come.

Closing the connection and slipping it back in his jacket pocket, Larabee eased through the partially open door, weapon held against one leg as he stopped and waited.

"Ezra?" Buck wanted a response. The face before him was nearly dead looking, paralyzed with hate. He had to break through that. It was hard to believe this was the same man who'd shared a bed with him earlier, giggling and teasing, sweet and gentle. He daren't look away from those haunted eyes even though he desperately wanted to know if Ezra was armed. Damn it, of course he's armed, just need to know what he's doin' with the damn gun.

Ezra wanted to ignore Buck's presence but knew he couldn't. His fingers tightened around the cold handle of his weapon, one finger sliding in and out of the trigger guard with nervous tension. He still had the gun tipped down toward the floor but it would only take a miniscule change in direction to have it aimed directly at Jardain. The bastard lay there on the bed, head twisted back, a grin pasted on his face. Ezra swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say. Anything.

Buck tried again. "Ezra?" He took a tentative step closer and instantly, the pistol was up and pointed directly at him at the edges of his peripheral vision. "Ezra, please, don't do this."

The pistol began to shake. The green-eyed southerner, eyes locked with his lover, moved into the room and slowly stepped sideways, away from the door. "Buck, stay back."

Thank god he's still talking. I can work with that, Buck thought. "Ez, baby, he's not worth it. Not worth what would happen to you for doing anything here tonight."

"He's sick. A pervert."

"I know." Buck's voice was sorrowful. He closed his eyes at the pain he knew was still in the smaller man. "Don't taint yourself with him. Please. We got all the evidence we need to prove he's still working the systems. We'll find out who did the call for him. Between Josiah and Vin and Chris, we'll have a confession out of the creature. This will stop. I promise."

Ezra finally lowered his eyes again, looking back down at Herv who seemed unaffected by Buck's speech. Ezra narrowed his eyes and his pistol was suddenly muzzle tight against the man's head.

"Ezra! No!" Buck stepped closer, hands out. Panic in his voice.

Down the length of the room, Chris stood, his own weapon raised now, centered on Ezra Standish's head. From here a head shot would be no problem. He cocked the gun, the sound loud in the small room.

Ezra's head whipped up and he looked across the room at Larabee, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Can you do it, Chris?"

"If I have to." Larabee's aim, though, had moved to Ezra's gun arm.

Buck dropped to his knees beside Jardain's bed, his face raised to better meet Ezra's eyes again as the man looked back down at the gun dealer and crime lord. "Baby?"

Ezra cocked his own weapon, the sound causing both Buck and Chris to stiffen.

Vin and JD had hurled their vehicle into the federal building parking lot and JD carried the saved cell phone wrapped in a soft cloth. They were up and at the labs in minutes. Vin continued on up to see AD Travis, who was working late. JD supervised the electricians who were recording the evidence and tracking the calls on the phone's small memory cells. Everything was done in front of cameras at JD's insistence.

Nathan had the Ram roaring up the back streets to avoid evening traffic as he headed for the prison. He silently prayed that his services would not be required.

Josiah's suburban clanked and emitted grinding noises as he made corners without slowing. He'd not been that far from Ezra's place and had a ways to travel. Please lord, let me be in time. Help my brothers. His brow furrowed in concern, he hunched over the steering wheel.

Chris ignored the shuffling sounds as the two night-duty nurses fled behind him out of the clinic. They'd bring guards, the warden. This had to be over by then. By rights, he should have taken his shot the moment he heard Ezra cock his gun. There'd be hell to pay as it was. But, he just couldn't do it. He waited. Not breathing.

"Baby?" Buck's voice was soft, a plea now.

Ezra slowly raised the gun muzzle free from Jardain's now sweating forehead. Another ghost of a smile lit his features as he stared down at the man who had caused him so much pain, so much anguish. "Death is too good for you, Herv," he whispered, before uncocking the weapon and dropping it to the floor with a clatter.

Buck knelt with arms wide open, his face still serious and intent, eyes melting in love and pain for his heart, his love. "Come here."

Ezra sighed and nodded, almost forlornly. He sank to the floor in front of Wilmington, accepting the arms gathering him in, tucking his head in tight against Buck's neck.

Buck looked up from where he held Ezra to see Chris standing over them, putting his own weapon on safety and picking up Ezra's, tucking it into the back of his waistband. "Nate and Josiah are on the way."

Buck nodded and pressed his lips to Ezra's ear. "It's all right, Ezra. Everything's gonna be all right. I'm real proud of you. You did the right thing, baby."

Ezra blinked back tears and clung to Buck's broad shoulders. All he really wanted to do was go away now, be with his lover. Feel his strength and comfort, his love. Washing away the hate, the pain, the fear, everything. Buck could make it all go away, make him clean again.

Chris squatted down beside his agents and put a gentle hand on Ezra's shoulder. "Ezra, we are gonna put this bastard away so far that he'll never see the light of day again. I'm glad you made the right choice."

Ezra listened to the words from Larabee, feelings of faith and security, trust and respect. He knew he could always believe Chris, Chris would never lie to him. He wanted to say something, to tell his friend and boss how much Chris meant to him, but all he could do was nod and sniff.

"Hey, Pard," Buck was tipping Ezra's chin up a bit now, "Let's you and me get back to your place, clean up a bit and figure out where we left off. What do you say?"

Jardain, who'd gotten his wind back with the collapse of little Ezra, listened in anger to the other agents' comments. He tried to fight his restraints and suddenly was staring directly into hard hazel eyes.

"I strongly suggest, Mr. Jardain, that you refrain from calling any attention to yourself. I'd hate for the inmates here to find out what kind of man you are. They don't much care for child molesters and I think some of your victims were young enough to qualify. You might be the 'boy' one day soon." Chris grinned shark-like and stroked the side of Jardain's jaw with the barrel of his gun. "Hm,'pussy'?"

Buck curled his arm around Ezra's back and turned them away from the bed, standing slowly and bringing Ezra up with him, leading him off in the direction of the clinic doorway. They'd have to face the warden and guards but Chris would see that it was all right. Buck knew his oldest friend. Larabee was a force to be reckoned with.

The next few hours passed in a haze for Ezra, safely ensconced in the circle of Buck's arm. Wilmington refused to part from his fellow agent, keeping one long arm over Ezra's shoulders in a proprietary and protective manner. If any of the agents or law enforcement officials interviewing them thought that the man was more than a friend to a friend, they kept their comments to themselves. AD Travis saw to that. He owed Standish. He owed Team 7. This was his fault and he'd see to it that nothing rebounded negatively on the man, the men.

Warden Kent was in the unenviable position of having allowed an inmate in his care to have corrupted several guards, nurses, and at least two trustees that they could trace to using the infirmary telephone. The fact that Jardain had eluded prosecution for years, and even now was exerting his power through his web of contacts, was telling in the warden's favor.

Between Chris Larabee, top ATF team leader for the Rocky Mountain Region and AD Travis, favors were pulled in and Jardain was whisked away to a high security facility in Nevada, at some distance from his known associates. His attorney was notified in the dead of the night and didn't put up much resistance to the sudden relocation of his client. In fact, Travis suspected from the lawyer's pro forma actions and rather weak arguments that the man was relieved to have his client physically distant.

Confessions from the two trustees helped fill in the picture of intimidation and coercion that Jardain had manipulated in order to strike out at Standish from the prison. The man who actually placed the calls, one of the two trustees, was as warped as Jardain, from what the warden said. More than ready to cooperate, once the day-shift nurse had been blackmailed with fake evidence of drug use. The private glassed in cubicle had been the perfect 'sound booth' for the ugly calls to Standish. The cache of audiotapes that Jardain had demanded and gloated over with sick fascination, had been quietly interred in Travis' office safe, evidence of the calls made to Standish. Herv had fixated on Ezra, enamored with the man and then 'betrayed' by him, Jardain was out for revenge.

Ezra and Buck stayed on the couch in the warden's inner office for over three hours as investigators tracked down evidence, as the suspects were identified and pulled in for questioning at the police station downtown, and as their own team hovered protectively in the outer office, meeting with Kent and Travis.

Chris Larabee knocked lightly on the door and pushed it open, sliding in through a mere hands' span of space and closing the door firmly behind himself. He would have locked it if he could. As it was, he knew that Josiah and Vin were forming a human wall just beyond it. He wouldn't be interrupted. He studied the two men sitting on the couch, then flicked a glance over to where Nathan Jackson sat to one side in an armchair. He raised an eyebrow in silent query.

Nathan watched Chris come into their room, slipping through the barely open door and securing it behind himself. Must still be a mess out there, he thought tiredly. His eyes went back to where he'd been watching his two friends, watching over them. Ezra still shaking like a leaf, sitting glued to Buck Wilmington's side, while Buck's arm was wrapped like a strong band around the back of the man's shoulders. Nathan could see the whiteness of Buck's knuckles from here as he held tightly to his friend. Jackson looked back over at Chris and realized the man was looking at him, asking him silently with a look, how are they?

Nathan shrugged. He wished he could reassure Chris but Ezra had nearly fled when Jackson tried to examine him. Had fought with Buck and only been calmed when Nathan said he'd simply sit with them, leave them alone unless Ezra decided he wanted any help. Buck had tried to coax the younger man into allowing a brief examination but Standish, eyes like the huge startled eyes of prey, had actually begun to cry. Nathan knew his own heart nearly broke watching and could see that it badly shook Wilmington. Jackson had offered a sedative but both men had simply glared at him before saying no, in the same breath. So, now he shrugged at Chris. Not sure how they are, sorry.

Chris swung his attention back to his other two men. Ezra's eyes were reddish and swollen. He's been crying. Chris felt his breath shorten in response to the knowledge. Jesus, he's been through enough. I wish to god I didn't have to tell them this. He sucked in for a moment, meeting the dark eyes of his oldest friend reluctantly.

"What is it?" Buck could tell the news wasn't good. He swallowed reflexively and his hand went up to Ezra's head, pushing it on to his shoulder, into it, face buried. The southerner didn't fight him, instead turning his body into the touch, the move, hiding against the bigger man.

"They want to take Ezra into custody. For breaking and entering."

"No." Buck shook his head fiercely, his other arm coming up to wrap around Ezra. Then he repeated it, more softly, staring into Chris' eyes. "No."

Chris sighed and sank into the second, empty armchair, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. "I agreed to take him into protective custody, on my recognizance. We're going out to the ranch." He shot a look over at Jackson. "You're both gonna let Nathan look Ezra over, then he's coming along too." He ignored the looks of anger from Wilmington and the increased trembling from Ezra. "Gotta be done. Then AD Travis is going to take care of the rest of this mess. JD is still back at the federal building, making sure that the evidence is safely locked in Travis' safe. Vin and Josiah are going to ride shotgun in the Ram. We're taking the Jag."

"We?"

"Yeah. The four of us. Should be a snug fit." He spared a glance for Nathan, checking to see if this was all alright with the medic. Jackson nodded silently, sitting forward slightly in his seat.

Buck bent his head and kissed Ezra's crown, letting the soft brown curls tickle his nose. They'd get through this somehow. "Ezra?" He felt his friend still. "You heard Chris. Got no choice now. Nathan won't do anything you don't want him to do."

"No drugs." The softly spoken words still carried to the other two waiting men who exchanged looks again, both feeling sadly the helplessness of the tone in that quiet voice.

"No drugs, Ezra," Nathan said firmly. He stood up and walked around the center, low table and sat on it, facing the men on the couch. "I just need to make sure you can travel. Just let me get your vitals?"

With clear reluctance, Standish peeled himself back and away from Buck, one hand trailing down to be found and captured by Wilmington's larger one. The fingers quickly wove together as both strove to maintain contact as they faced Jackson.

Ezra's breath began to come faster, his nerves still on edge, everything conspiring to push him toward another breakdown, the adrenaline rush of the race to the prison, the hidden entry, seeing Jardain's hated face again, staring into those soulless eyes, then confronting and surrendering to Buck. He desperately fought for his equilibrium, clutching at Buck's hand fiercely. Drawing strength from the love conveyed by the other's continued presence and touch. He met Nathan's eyes and sat up a bit straighter on the edge of the couch. "Okay, Nathan, do what you need to do."

Gone was the graceful speech pattern, gone the elegant manners and formal form of address. Nathan tried to let Ezra see the caring and affection in his own eyes as he edged closer, slowing raising hands to touch, examine. Ezra didn't flinch and Nathan was grateful.

Larabee stood up and began to pace behind the three men, listening to the quietly voiced and answered questions, the subdued tones. He just wanted this nightmare to be over. His own anger was on the rise again, still resentful that they'd ever been dragged into this case to begin with.

It had been a mistake. He should have fought against it harder, only, he acknowledged silently, even knowing now the outcome, he couldn't see what else he could have done to stop this all, to keep them off the case, keep Ezra out of that line of fire. It was as if fate took a hand and forced the issues. He stopped behind the others, and stared out into the night sky through the warden's barred window. Forced himself to stop trying to fight battles already over. His jaw was tight as he stared up into the star speckled darkness. There was a burning in the center of his chest that did not bode well for any criminal likely to cross his path for some time to come. Buck and Ezra are together now. Something good did come out of all this.

From what Vin had guessed, and Buck confirmed, and other signs, Chris had come to realize that his two agents had been lovers for awhile, but that not all was right with them. Until now. Adversity will do that. He rubbed the top of his head, blonde hair spiking and falling in unruly bangs over his forehead. Travis better damn well come through with his promises on this one, or he'd lose the whole team.

Vin sat shotgun as Josiah drove the big black Ram up the mountainside. He stared out at the wooded verges, seeing the occasional sign of wildlife deep within the forested darkness. Gleaming feral eyes, flashes of movement. He felt at peace for the first time since this case had begun. Funny, he'd never felt so out of control before on a case. Even though his disguise had been only a bit different from his normal style of clothing, he'd felt vulnerable and exposed, uncomfortable. I just can't begin to imagine what Ezra has felt like through all of this. Dressing like a woman, singing up on stage, fondled and manhandled by that dreck, his body invaded and violated, injured and humiliated, harassed and stalked. Oh, god, Vin closed his eyes tightly, remembering the club, the bar, the hands on his own body. He shuddered, noticing as Josiah turned up the heat in the cab. Thinks I'm just cold. Well, hell, I am. Only it isn't from the night air.

Sanchez tried not to think. He drove with a single-minded intensity as he followed the red taillights of Ezra's Jag, driven by Chris. Just follow the lights. Don't think about it. Josiah caught the shivering of his passenger and automatically leaned forward and twisted the knob to increase the heat in the cab. He pulled at the wheel, his attention instantly back on the road as they took a sharp curve, keeping the Jag in view as they rounded the bend. No one's fault. Dear Lord, how is it that you created such creatures, so vile, so filthy? Jardain is a very cohort of the devil himself, a demonic creature to be dropped into some deep pit of hell. Josiah's lips tightened and his brow remained furrowed as he tried to keep at bay the myriad thoughts of his friends' pain and sorrow. They did not deserve this.

Chris drew the sleek low-slung car to a stop in the circular drive in front of the ranch house. Turned off the engine and turned toward his front seat passenger, Nathan Jackson. "We'll get them into the guest room." Jackson nodded and opened his door.

Chris looked over his shoulder. "Buck? How are you two doing?"

"Ezra's sleeping." The quiet words were spoken with such tenderness that Chris closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for them. Keep them safe, get us all through this, please god.

Larabee unfolded from the car and carefully opened the back door on Buck's side. Wilmington stuck his legs out and maneuvered his body out slowly, carefully dragging out his sleeping friend after him. By the time he was standing, he had both arms under Ezra's and was lifting the man from the back seat. Chris slid to the side to catch Ezra's legs and help lift him clear of the car. Once free of the back seat, Buck shifted his grasp and moved closer, getting his arms beneath the smaller man and lifting him up from Larabee's supportive hold. "I'll take him inside, just get the doors."

Nathan already stood holding open the front door and Chris just nodded and took off in front of them, leading the way into the back of the house and down the hall to the guest bedroom.

He and Nathan stood watching as Buck eased Ezra's relaxed form onto the bed and then slumped down beside him. Quietly, the medic and team leader backed out of the room and shut the door, heading to the front of the house where they could hear the Ram's tires crunching on the gravel and dirt of the drive. The air smelled of night, crisp woodsy scents and animal musk drifted on the air as the four men met on the porch. Josiah and Vin stepping up to join Chris and Nathan. Vin spoke in his easy drawl, no sign of his own unsettled state in the Texan's voice, "JD called. He'll be here in a few. Everything's under control."

Chris stood staring over his men's shoulders at the dark night, seeing fireflies dance and hearing the sound of a distant coyote's bark. He didn't speak, just moved to sit in one of the old rocking chairs that filled the wide front porch. Nathan sunk into a second one. Josiah and Vin stared for a moment, both sets of eyes flickering up toward the open door to the ranch, lit and beckoning, but then they each took a chair and joined their friends. Chris produced a package of cigarillos from a chest pocket and offered them silently. All three of the other men accepted. Four narrow cigars were lit. Four sets of lungs inhaled then exhaled and smoke drifted upward in lazy spirals, the smoke attacked by night moths attracted by the light. Inside it was quiet.

Buck lay back against the headboard of the queen-sized guest bed and stared off at nothing, his mind so packed with urges and panicked events that he couldn't really focus on anything, just sit there with a sizzling brain and hope it didn't fry itself in its seemingly endless efforts to catch its own tail. The thrumming of his body's high octane energy kept him from sleeping or even closing his eyes at the same time that he felt so weary that he could feel every muscle and bone sinking in to a quicksand of heaviness. Ezra lay silent beside him, sleeping so deeply that Buck rested one hand on his stomach to feel the slow rise and fall of the abdomen as he slept, assuring him of Ezra's continued breathing.

Sleep a dreamless sleep, Ezra child, Buck thought as he sat there in bewildered silence. The day's events, like those of the last few weeks, were overwhelming the usually buoyant spirit within. He knew that things would be alright eventually. With men like Chris and Travis working on it, everything would be okay, just not today. Tonight. This morning?

Buck slowly turned his head to check the light outside the window. It was paler now, dawn creeping in. About time. He rubbed Ezra's stomach muscles lightly, savoring the feel of the man, even through the cloth of his shirt, Chris' shirt. He'd still been in his stolen prison guard uniform when they'd made it to the ranch last night. Buck had accepted an old jersey and sweat pants for Ezra from Chris. He'd gently re-positioned the undercover agent a few times as he undressed him, then dressed him in the casual clothing. He'd smiled a bit as he rolled back the sleeves that covered the man's elegant hands, then folded up the pant legs that fell below the small man's ankles, covering his feet. "Ah, Ezra, you musta been stunted in your growin' years," he murmured, stroking the man's shoulder with tender affection.

Now, as he sat trying to calm his own body, waging a war on his nervous system, he felt the change in breathing as Ezra began to move upward out of deep sleep toward the shallow sleep that precedes waking. He sat up more alertly, despite the grit in his eyes. This is when trouble would come, if it came. In the light pre-waking sleep, dreams stole in, nightmares. Ezra had certainly collected the ingredients for quite a collection of those nightmares. He'd had some doozies the last few nights. Now? Buck just didn't know. Ezra had confronted his worst nightmare in the flesh just hours ago.

Ezra was lost in gray corridors, lined with closed doors. Each door he tried was locked, blank. He trudged down the hall, no end in sight. No sound except his tred. Blood oozed out from under a door ahead on his left. He stepped around the scarlet stains and reached for the door handle, heartbeat speeding until the beating of his heart seemed to actually pound against his skeleton, rocking it. He found the doorknob twisting easily beneath his hand. He pulled it open. Inside was an empty room except for a narrow bed. On the bed were his clothes. His clothes from the Soiled Dove. Then Yancy Darling was there in 'her' Dolly Parton outfit, twirling so that her skirt flared out and showed off her layers of petticoats. She grinned and beckoned to him, gesturing for him to get into his clothing. The room remained eerily quiet. Ezra turned toward the bed, then looked down at the floor, expecting to see a body for the source of all that blood. No body, except his own. He was dressed in the dark purple sheath, his long dark stockings striped with ladder runs, the skirt hanging askew. Dark fluid dripped from between his legs, sticky on his inner thighs, pooling on the floor where he stood on high-heeled shoes, a soft velvet purple darkening to a muddy maroon where they were soaking up the blood. His blood. Ezra turned around, looking for the source of sour laughter that suddenly filled his ears. Herv stood in the doorway, wearing a tuxedo, fingering a blue rose in his lapel and smiling a drowsy, leering smile of power and possession. 'Pretty Pussy,' he purred. Ezra backed away, tripping and falling onto the bed. He tried to brace himself but his legs flopped open in invitation, betraying his intent. He screamed, "NO!"

Everyone woke up to the unearthly screams. Chris practically fell out of his bed, heart in his throat as he scrambled for the door and the guest room beyond. That had been Ezra's voice.

Vin, JD, Josiah and Nathan all arrived in a helter-skelter of unmatched shorts, tees and sweats. No one opened the door. They could all hear Buck's crooning inside as he calmed and reassured Ezra. Chris, panting though not sure why, collapsed, his back against the guestroom door. No, he wasn't defending Buck and Ezra from the others - hell, no one wanted to breach this portal. It was just, oh god, it was just too much. Chris sighed and stood slumped against the doorway. He stared at his friends, his agents. "Time for some coffee." It came out as more of an order than a suggestion but no one objected. They all turned away with final lingering looks at the closed door and headed down the hall for Chris' large sized kitchen with its big family table. Larabee turned on the coffeemaker, jumping the preset morning start timer.

"Ezra? You awake now, baby?" Buck rubbed big circles on the smaller man's back as he clung like a limpet to Buck's chest, hands roughly clutching at Buck's shoulders.

"Nyah-ah." The soft sound was like a susurration of air.

"Aw, yep, you are, Pard." Buck ducked his head low and smiled. "Show me those pretty green eyes of yours."

Two mossy green eyes opened and fastened on Buck's dark blue ones.

"Good job! You had quite a dream there, Ez."

"Dream? It was a dream." Ezra restated his question as an answer and seemed to center and draw peace from the thoughts it presented. He sagged down away from Buck and rolled over until he lay facing the ceiling, one hand lightly touching Buck's nearest thigh, as if in need of continued contact. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, love." Buck leaned over and kissed his dearest heart on the lips, licking them lightly as he withdrew and sat up again. He stroked the closed face, poker face on again, Ez? And let the morning light do his talking. Sunlight dappled the room now, breaking into it low and hitting fairly well in considering the early hour. "Just rest. We got no where to be, nothing to do."

"Ah, paradise." Ezra let his head fall to the side so that he could see the window. "Ah, wilderness." He sighed again and rolled his head the other way. "Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"I want this all to be over, all to be a nightmare that you can wake me up from."

"Nice wish, sweetheart. And I wish I could make that happen." Buck combed his hand through the soft chestnut curls, liking the way Ezra's eyes closed and crinkled at the corners as he smiled and tipped his head to gain more contact with Buck's probing fingers.

"We're together. No one's trying to separate us. It can't get much better than that," Ezra said quietly. He opened his eyes and gazed up into Buck's face. "Can it?"

Buck tried to pretend he wasn't watching Ezra. He sat straddling the kitchen chair, sipping scalding hot black coffee freshly poured by Chris and pretended not to watch Ezra. Ezra needed some space, some peace, some silence. Away from all of them, all of this. Only, it wasn't possible to give it to him yet. Except this way.

Ezra was oblivious to the world around him, that much was obvious. Or, at least so he appeared. He was building a house of cards there on Larabee's big old wooden kitchen table. The grain, stressed with years of heavy use, was almost like a fine washboard, absolutely perfect for anchoring the bottom level of the temporary structure. The southerner had abandoned his coffee, now tepid, for this project. The tiniest bit of pink tongue stuck out between his tightly folded lips as he concentrated on lowering the three of diamonds on to the supports of two jacks and two tens.

Chris, rinsing out the last of the fry pans that had been used that morning for an impromptu breakfast feast, was also keeping a weather eye on Standish. He was pleased that the hand holding the card didn't tremble, was steady as a rock. Ezra's green eyes were squinted in an effort to focus more closely as he made contact, the diamond to the four other cards. The pink tongue extruded a bit more.

Buck's bland expression was melting into a soft smile, his eyes warm. Got it bad, our Buckaroo, Larabee thought with affection for his old friend. I'm actually glad. He'll be good for Ezra and Ezra will be good for him. The team leader leaned back against the sink, a dishtowel thrown over one shoulder and openly watched the other two men. Now, if Travis can only finish the clean up on that mess back at the prison.

Vin and JD had left, were on the road again, tracing the missing day shift nursing attendant who was now suspected of being the 'mouthpiece' for Jardain. The man had fled. Josiah was outside, communing with nature -- and a laptop on remote access, while he built a case for further prosecution of Jardain and a restraining order to keep him out of state, regardless of what else might come from the hearings.

Nathan had gone to fetch Emily Loring, a friend of his who was also a psychologist. Since Feinman had so thoroughly read Ezra wrong earlier, if only from a distance and second-hand reports, it was decided that the team needed to bring in someone else to help their undercover agent. Travis had regretfully specified that Standish undergo therapy or tender his resignation, which would be accepted as a disability retirement with full benefits.

Chris tilted his head to one side as Ezra managed to build a tent of two hearts on top of the diamond. If Ezra was still affected by any thing, it wasn't showing now. At least, no outward physical signs. He looked over at Buck. He, too, had stopped pretending and was watching with interest and a certain wary contentment as the smaller man seated across from him continued to erect the delicate structure. Buck had looked very tired earlier but the night's sleep with Ezra had helped, Chris could tell. Even with the nightmares that had wakened the whole house earlier, Ezra and Buck both looked rested and more balanced. The tension and anxiety was gone.

The scene here, earlier this morning, when he had to tell Standish about Dr. Loring had not been pretty. Even with Nathan's assurances that she was good and he thought she could help, Ezra still had threatened to quit. Buck had been very persuasive, whispering some things none of the rest heard toward the end. Whatever he'd said evidently swung the balance to their side and Standish had finally agreed to the sessions - to start today, out here at the ranch and go for no less than one week, daily. After that, much would depend on Ezra, on the doctor, and on Travis.

Earlier

"I'm perfectly fine." Ezra looked anything but fine as he sat erect and clearly defensive at the kitchen table. Buck hovered behind him, refraining with great effort from touching. Ezra needed to face his demons. Using Buck as a crutch would not help. If Buck had had any doubts, Nathan and Chris, cornering him in the predawn light had dissuaded him of them.

"No, you are not." Nathan shook his head and thumped one fist down on the big table. Josiah came up behind the agitated medic and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ezra, Nathan's right. This would be a lot for anyone. You need to talk to someone."

"I HAVE been talking to someone. Lots of someones. To all of you. To Buck." Ezra lifted his head with a grace at odds with his cobbled wardrobe of borrowed clothing, chin raised and eyes half-hooded in anger.

JD had slumped forward in his chair, hands clasped in earnest sincerity. "We're family. That doesn't count. Come on, Ezra, we need you to help here."

"Help? Help?" Ezra's voice began to rise.

"Hey, Pard, take it easy." Buck gave in, kneeling down on one knee behind Ezra's chair and wrapping his arms loosely around the smaller man, the back of the ladder-back chair between them. "Arguing isn't going to change anything, Ez."

Vin finally spoke up now. "That's right, Ez. Just do it so we can get back to normal. With you, not without you."

Standish shot Vin a look of pure anger. "Without me?"

"That's what Travis said, Ezra." Larabee tried not to look too fierce, but he was losing patience. He knew how much shit his friend had already gone through but if they were going to keep him on the team, this too had to be surmounted. He'd broken the law, gone gunning for a perp, and, regardless of how well justified, it would not have been ruled a righteous shooting and Ezra would have been buried by the system. As it was, he wasn't too sure why that hadn't happened anyway. Usually, bureaucracy was like a steamroller, and folks -- the flattened aftermath. Chris scrubbed at his face. "I told you what Travis said."

"Ah, yes, the ultimatum."

Buck leaned in close behind Ezra and whispered something softly in one of his ears.

Chris frowned and tried again. "Ezra--"

"Alright."

"You have to see-- what?" Chris was already wading into the verbal duel, desperate to make his agent comply, when the damn man did an about face on him. Not the first time.

"I said, alright, I'll do it, Chris."

Larabee looked at him with deep suspicion but nodded and spoke to Nathan without breaking eye contact with his undercover agent. "Nate. Go get the doctor."

"Don't know if she'll be ready this early, Chris."

"Nate."

"Okay, okay." Jackson stood stiffly and rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension in the room.

"I'll walk you out to the car." Josiah's quiet voice was a signal to the others to withdraw.

Vin stood up and stretched, looked over at JD. "JD? We should follow up on the traces out on that dayshift nurse."

The younger agent braced his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet, cocking an eye at his boss. Larabee didn't look over but seemed aware of the silent question. "Good idea. You two take off. Keep in touch by cell. Find that bastard."

"Ezra? You gonna cooperate with the doc when Nate brings her back?" Larabee knew his men well, had even been through some really bizarre group analysis sessions with them for some crank program the bigwigs in Washington had thought up. Back then, they'd all tweaked the assigned doctor's tail something awful. Had a hell of a lot of fun doing it, was their very own kind of therapy. But this time, no games. This was too important, too real. And, Ezra was not going to pull through on his own, that much was already clear from his actions. Buck was tense with worry, he'd not been able to break through even though he thought he'd had some success earlier. Ezra needed professional help. Chris stared at the man, at his friend, and waited.

Ezra blinked at the gimlet-eyed stare of his friend and boss. Painful truth was he didn't think he'd make it on his own, not even with Buck's support and love. He felt like he was full to overflowing with worms crawling through his body, destroying him one bite at a time, devouring his very soul. They wriggled relentlessly in his bag of skin, causing it to burn and tingle with their energy. He no longer knew if he'd ever be able to sleep again. Last night had been a living, then sleeping nightmare of terrifying proportions. Oh, yes, he'd talk to this doctor that Nathan was getting. He no longer had a choice.

"I promise, Chris. I won't hide from her. I know I need help." He tilted his head back to rest against the back of the chair and Buck's chest pressed tight behind, closing his eyes against a sudden shimmer of tears that leaked out despite his effort to control himself.

Chris Larabee's heart squeezed as he witnessed the collapse of his proud and sometimes arrogant agent. Shit. He stood up and walked out, after staring into Buck's mournful eyes. Without words, he'd let Buck know that he was leaving his friend in Buck's hands. For now, any way.

Josiah and Chris had set up a work area on the back porch and while Sanchez worked a laptop connected by remote to the Internet, Larabee had been busy on his cell phone. He'd pressed Orin Travis for more action to dismiss the charges against Standish and Travis, already up for more than 24 hours at this point, had conceded that he was going to have to call in more personal favors because the law was not working for them on this. Larabee disconnected in a depression. Things were moving way too slowly for his liking, but he had a gut feeling that it was going to work out. Jardain was already out of state, in a prison transport, on his way to a new assignment at a penitentiary in Nevada.

He swung around to check the kitchen through the sliding glass doors. He'd resolutely kept his back to the glass until now. Buck was pouring himself a cup of coffee, eyes downcast, looking thoughtful. Ezra was absent. Well, Buck doesn't look panicked, and, that coffee looks good.

Chris pressed a hand on the big profiler's shoulder in silence. Washed out blue eyes looked up from their work, speaking of confidence and friendship, reassurance, without a word. Larabee smiled. Sometimes, that was all it took. A calming look from their eldest, Josiah, and the world seemed less intimidating. He nodded and headed back into the house.

Buck smiled wanly when Chris reappeared. "He's gone to get some cards. Said he could think better with them."

"Cards?" Larabee shook his head and took another sip of the strong brew. "That sounds more normal than anything I've heard in a while."

Buck's smile actually warmed. "Yeah. And normal is good." He sighed then and leaned back in his chair. "I think we've all been crowding him too close."

"Haven't had a lot of choice there, Buck."

"I know it." Buck stood up and walked across the broad wood plank floor, then turned to face his oldest friend again. "We got to give him what we can."

Chris nodded understandingly. "Sure thing."

Then Ezra was there again. Walking into the room with transparent unease, his thin frame moving with ghost-like solemnity. "Gentlemen." He drew out a chair at the big table and carefully moved the scattered cups abandoned there by their teammates. "I've decided to indulge in a childhood strategy for meditation." At the silent questioning looks, he actually smiled. "I'm going to build a house of cards."

Buck had placed a cup of coffee at Ezra's elbow but it was ignored now as the man worked with single-minded concentration. Chris had risen and backed away, distancing himself slightly as he turned to tackle the dishes and pans in the sink. Buck spun a chair about and settled back, also away from the table, and at an angle, staring first out the glass doors at the breathtaking scenery of the Rockies beyond, then with some subtlety at his lover.

Ezra's tongue was pink and curling up over his upper lip now as he started another wing to his mansion of cards. Chris, folding the dishtowel, spied another box of cards in the doodad drawer by the sink. The box held a double deck. He pulled it out and moved over to where the card house was rising. Chris glanced over at Buck, who was staring openly at the clearly oblivious Ezra. Invitation in his hazel eyes, Chris sat down beside Ezra and smiled as Buck rose and joined them on Ezra's other side.

"Seems to me," Chris said softly, "That you could add a south wall over here."

Ezra flicked a glance over at the direction mentioned and smiled secretively. He nodded but didn't speak.

Larabee opened his box and handed Buck one deck behind Ezra's back so as not to risk disturbing the fragile structure in front of the southerner. Chris took out the second deck for himself and started to match two cards, end to end, with great precision.

That's how Vin and JD found them when they returned four hours later. The house of cards now was more of a fortification, covering nearly all the top of the table. Larabee had somehow produced more decks of cards and Josiah was patiently building up from the floor, already connected to one chair seat. The youngest agents had stared at their elders, stared at each other, grinned gleefully and edged their way into the activity.

Nathan decided against knocking. He escorted Emily Loring into the big old ranch house, noting that all the others must be there with the scattering of vehicles parked out front. He was feeling better now. He'd spent the drive up describing the events of the past few weeks to his friend. She had taken some notes, then dropped her small steno pad into her shoulder bag as they walked up the porch steps.

"Probably still out in the kitchen. Tends to be the gathering place, that and the source of coffee," he added with a glimmer of a smile.

Dr. Loring was prepared to see many things when they entered the large country kitchen, but it wasn't the fantasy creation that towered over the kitchen table, and overflowed down several chairs to the floor. Nor the six men so intently involved in it's construction. Drawing to a stop in the doorway, she put a hand up when Nathan would have spoken.

She was charmed by the six overgrown children so deep in their play and had to smile at what she saw.

One of them would be her new patient. She studied them carefully. Three were especially young looking and all of smaller stature. She watched the interactions of the men. It didn't take long to decode the carefully supportive actions of five toward the sixth who seemed not to notice. Handing him cards, giving him more space than the rest, waiting when he paused in thoughtful contemplation, following his lead in silence.

She smiled more widely as she thought just how therapeutic this activity was - for all of them. She only wished she could step back and encourage her good friend Nathan to join them. But, she was sure that the moment her presence was noted, this house of cards would come tumbling down, figuratively if not literally.

It was Vin who sensed a stranger present first. He stiffened and looked up. His posture caught Larabee's eye, then Josiah's. The big men sat back and looked over at the door. Saw the unknown woman standing there, with Nathan at her shoulder. Buck followed the eyes of his friends to the source of their shifted interest. Damn. JD looked up in surprise at the sudden secession of activity. Only Ezra kept working.

If I don't acknowledge her, she won't be there. Ezra's nerves tightened a bit, having relaxed at the comfortable companionship and quiet, numbing activity until now. Now he began to tense, his hand shook and the card in it suddenly slid to the side, the precision of his movements coming to a jerky stop. He sighed and stared at the card house. Took a deep breath and blew out, hard, with purpose. The cards trembled, shook, and toppled. Sheering and sliding down into collapsed heaps on the table and the floor with a nearly soundless whoosh.

"You must be Ezra."

Buck hitched his shoulder higher on the door jam, staring moodily out over the back pasture and corral from the vantage point of the ranch house's kitchen door to the back porch. He could hear the others chatting quietly at the kitchen table, sharing cups of freshly brewed coffee, sorting and stacking the mess of cards into sets, decks again. That doc that Nathan had brought was out walking with Ezra, somewhere out on the bridle paths. He sighed, his shoulders shifting again with the full body intake and exhale of breath.

"Buck?" Chris' voice was soft at his shoulder.

Gettin' old. Didn't hear him come up behind me. Buck turned his head a bit. "Yeah?"

"Nate says this Loring is real good, gentle too. Ezra's gonna get the help he needs. You need to let go some, Pard."

The taller man shook his head slightly, then shifted to face around further, meet his friend's eyes. "He just isn't doing too well."

"I know." Chris raised his eyes up toward the peaks of the Rockies, crisply outlined against the bright daylight today. He laid a hand on his old friend's shoulder and pushed. "How 'bout we step out for a bit of air?"

Buck nodded silently, then followed as Larabee moved past him and on out on to the back porch. The quiet murmurs of Vin, JD, Nathan, and Josiah faded even more as they emerged onto the still shadowed back porch. Chris went down the porch steps and led the way to the corral fence, putting one booted foot up on a low railing as he leaned over the top rail with crossed arms. Peso and Solon and Chaucer were all moving restlessly about, stopping to nibble at the bale of hay occasionally, but mostly raising their heads and sniffing the fresh air of the mountain breezes. You had to wonder what they smelled when they fluttered their nostrils and pricked their ears with such alert attention, Buck thought to himself.

Chris was content to study the movements of the horses. Should get the rest of the herd out here soon, they could use the air too. Right now, though, need to just give Buck an ear. Think he needs it. Chris' mouth curved in a half-smile as Buck came to rest against the corral fence in a similar pose, also studying the horses' movements.

"Think there may be something prowling around out there today." Larabee mused without any particular fear. The wildcats, wolves and bears seldom actually showed, his ranch might be touching wilderness, but it smelled of humans and most wild animals on the fringes of their ranges already knew what that meant. And stayed away.

Buck, though, stiffened and looked to the side, where thinner stands of the bordering forests crept down to meet the open grazing meadows. "They should be okay, they're on foot, not likely get too far out." He spoke more to calm himself than Larabee.

Chris nodded in agreement, however. "Yep. Ez knows the ranch too. Even right now, he's not going to take her out too far."

Buck dropped his head suddenly on to his crossed arms, rolling his forehead along his bare forearms as he closed his eyes. Waves of fatigue seemed to be hitting him now. He hadn't noticed how tired he was while Ezra was with him. Ezra was the center of his world now, and when the boy was there, he had no choice, his whole focus went outward, to embrace and protect his lover. His love. "Geeze, Chris, I feel like shit."

A warm, firm hand came down on his back, rubbing in big circles over his bent shoulders. "Easy, Pard, you've had it rough for a spell now. Things will be better. Why don't you go in and lie down for a while. Get some sleep. We'll keep an eye out for Ezra."

Buck lifted his head and squinted over at his friend. "No, I'd just end up staring at the ceiling in there. Leastways, out here I can get some air, some sun. Feels good."

Larabee nodded his understanding. Sometimes just standing in the sunshine out here, it was enough to make the world right itself for him when things seemed to be bad. He'd learned that a while back. Thought of that old John Denver song and smiled. "Sunshine on my shoulder, makes me happy," he quoted seriously.

Buck tossed his head back in a smile, "Son, you ain't right in the head if you're admitting to being happy!" The laugh felt good. Felt right. He quickly sobered though, thinking that he needed to share laughter with Ezra again. They both needed laughter in their lives again. It had been a while.

Josiah had been quietly stacking the sorted cards in front of him, listening to the other men at the table chat in a desultory fashion about the case. The day shift nurse had been found and arrested, was being interrogated downtown. Neither Vin nor JD had wanted to stay around for it, their disgust too great. They had both wanted to return and see for themselves that Ezra was going to be alright.

Nathan had then started describing Emily Loring in more detail, her job and her accomplishments since he'd known her. When he paused, Josiah spoke.

"I worry about our Ezra." He stared at the cards neatly set in front of him, then looked up at Nathan, ignoring the other two men. "He hides things too well."

Jackson understood. "Well, Emily is good at getting a patient to relax and confide in her. She's reached some real tough nuts, juvies with long records of rebellion and hostility at the half-way house where I met her." He met Josiah's look with one of confidence and caring. "She will help him."

Josiah flashed his patented devil-may-care grin. "Guess I'm just an old worry wart." He chuckled. The inner tension he'd felt for some time eased a little at the sure words of Nathan. Josiah tended to stay in the background, keep to himself. He had the very devil in his soul and mostly fought that demon silently and alone, seldom letting others in on the secret that it even existed. When he'd fought long and hard and finally succumbed to a temporary set back, then his explosion would rock the Seven's world. Drunk and disorderly, he'd be a chastened sheep in need of a shepherd, meekly returning to his work while seeking once more his balance in some new and existential strand of human faiths. His affinity for the devil, though, gave him extraordinary insight into the minds of criminals, making him one of the best profilers in the business. And it gave him a very piercing understanding of their undercover agent.

Ezra was an enigma to most of the team, most of the time. But not to Josiah. Josiah knew him. Knew him in a deep, beneath the skin way. A fellow demon wrestler. He'd identified with the younger man almost from the moment they met. That first case, all the turmoil and misunderstandings that had grown from Ezra's actions, all that had lit up Josiah's inner sanctums of the mind. He'd found a fellow traveler and recognized the man for it. Seen the devil in the details, so to speak and known the young man had a troubled and complicated story if he'd ever speak of it -- knew it without being told.

This case and his revealed relationship with Buck, his homosexuality for that matter, all of it had been like the tolling of a bell for Josiah. He'd been momentarily shocked by Ezra's confessions, then by the case and the terrible repercussions of the villain's later actions of harassment and revenge. He'd been truly moved by Ezra's madness in going after Jardain at the prison and grateful for both Buck's and Chris' rescue of the wayward agent. He wanted his friend back now. He wanted Ezra back, the cheerful, meticulous, and mercurial con man who walked on the right side of the law. Josiah smiled at Jackson, his thoughts still roiling inside, and nodded. "I have faith in you, Nathan. If you trust and believe in Doctor Loring, then I will."

Jackson sat back, satisfied. He noticed the two other men had paused to listen and were now smiling and finishing up the reconstruction of the decks of cards, Vin handing off sets to JD who was boxing them. Looking back at Josiah, he caught the momentary look of worry still there in the furrowed brow and shadowed eyes. Damn it, Ezra's gotten to all of us, hasn't he? Nathan handed over his deck to the boys and scratched at his head. Well, he's a good man. Josiah recognized that before I did, or Chris or some of the others. He's a good man and he didn't deserve any of this. Emily will help him. Damn good thing that Travis ordered the counseling or she might not ever have gotten the chance. And she would give Ezra his chance. He needed it. Get him back to us. Funny, I miss him even though he's here with us. I miss the Ezra from before all this shit hit. Nathan's face was open with the sadness and hope he felt and looking up at Josiah he saw reflected there the same feelings. He smiled at his friend. It would be all right.

Vin was watching the interplay between Nathan and Josiah. Josiah was a weathervane for the sharpshooter. He was the most stable of them most of the time and when he was out of sorts, like now, Vin knew that there could be trouble somewhere, either on a case, or among the Seven. He continued his card sorting automatically as he listened to what was said and what was not said. He was a good listener to both levels of a conversation. He realized that JD was doing the same thing, if perhaps with a lesser degree of comprehension. We're all worried about Ezra. He sure was out there this time. Damn near cut off the limb he was out on, too. Vin stilled his hands for a moment as one covered one of JD's that were moving with some agitation. He let his crystal clear blue eyes pass some serenity on to the hacker. Despite the concern he sensed from Josiah and the attempts at alleviating it that he saw from Nathan, Vin knew that this problem with Ezra wasn't going to go away quickly. He'd sensed the rage in the man, the helplessness and fury. The fear. Buck was going to have a hard time coming to grips with all the burdens that Ezra was carrying. Only way to help was for us all to be calm, accepting and ready to help. He tried to pass his sense of tranquility on to JD with touch and a look.

JD quieted under Vin's hand. Looked up and saw that Vin understood. Saw too that Vin was centered and calm. That's what's needed, he realized. Not Josiah's worry, not Nathan's hovering or intrusions, even if the doctor he found might help in the end. No, what Ezra -- and Buck -- needed were their friends around them, solid and sure. I can do this. JD shrugged mentally. Sure, they'd probably say I'm cocky, but I've been around the block a few times, some of them blocks that no one else knows about. Got through it all. Ezra's real smart. He'll get through this too, long as we're there to watch his back. And, we will be. JD's eyes lit with a warm smile that he sent to Vin who smiled back.

Ezra found himself relaxing for the first time in a long time. Since, well, he couldn't remember really since when. When was the last time he'd totally relaxed? Ah, except for right after some exquisite loving, the aftermath of that was always mind-blowing semi-consciousness. The after-orgasm sense of complete and utter relaxation. But, that was more physical than mental, emotional. Ezra watched where he put his feet as he paced slowly along the riding trail. He knew that Doctor Loring, Emily, she'd asked him to call her Emily, was walking easily beside him, but she was silent, letting him ease into the newly rediscovered feeling of relaxation.

A very complicated man. Emily Loring's quick mind was intrigued by the case that Nathan had related to her on the phone briefly, and then in detail on the drive up. Now, face to face with Ezra, her heart went out to the man. The very complicated, hurt man. Oh, yes, badly hurt. A hurt that pre-dated this case, she decided. Probably a hurt that extended back into childhood. She'd let him lead, let him tell her the boundaries of their talks. She'd accept anything from him, without any outward signs of shock or sympathy. He wasn't the only one with the gift for hiding his feelings. He was good though. Nathan had warned her. But she was good too.

She watched where she put her feet and did not turn to look over at her walking companion. She'd learned long ago, before even beginning her career, that deep conversations were best held when you didn't face your conversational partner. Sitting in a car was a good variation, both driver and passenger facing the road, speaking to the traffic, and not meeting each other's eyes. It was like secretly sharing. Safer somehow. Telephones weren't as good. You needed the ability to touch, to feel the closeness, warmth of the other. Even if you seldom met their eyes. A walk, like this, was good. It would be better where you didn't have to keep part of your attention on your feet, but at least there were no distractions from outsiders. They were quite alone out here.

Ezra had quickly determined that Emily knew all the circumstances of the case from Nathan. That meant she knew what Nathan knew. Of course, that left out a lot. He liked her. The moment he turned away from the collapsed house of cards and faced her, he liked her. She was standing there, a warm, brown person, eyes twinkling with understanding and a matter of fact way that was easy to relate to. She had smiled upon him and he felt comforted by the glow in her deep chocolate eyes. She was small, like him, and that too was nice. There was no attempt to dominate, to dictate. Just be there. He could tell that she'd be easy to talk to and he'd been right. Without even a moment's pause, she'd turned from him to ask the group in general if there was somewhere that she and he could go, could walk. Chris had suggested the riding trails. Even offered horses, but she'd said, no, just to walk would be fine. Then she'd turned back to him, dismissing the others with her intense fix on him and invited him for a walk.

It had been as simple and as complicated as that. She'd introduced herself to him in a few easy sentences, then lapsed into silence as he led her through the house, the back pasture, and on into the lightly wooded area at the edge of it, where a trail blazed through the shivering aspens. Sunlight dappled the ground at their feet and bird song lightened the atmosphere and Ezra found himself breaking the silence. Making random comments. She hadn't pushed, hadn't tried to steer the conversation, just listened. After a bit, he began to slow and became silent also. That was when she spoke.

"Tell me about Buck."

Not the case, not him. About Buck? Ezra had smiled to himself in memory of that moment. He felt soothed somehow. Buck? He could talk about Buck forever. And for a while, it felt like he had. Describing his lover, his personality, his beauty of body and soul, mind, heart. Telling her how their love had grown, moved from lust to love. How Buck had held back at first, how he now understood why the man had held him at arm's length, using women to keep them from truly being lovers. How they had been, his pain in their relationship at that time. How the case had changed all that. And then he was there. On the precipice. At the case. Jardain. Hatred flowed through him like wine. He kicked a small rock, sending it tumbling from the trail. He turned off it, stopping to lean against a sapling, nearly bending it over as he shoved hard with his shoulder, hands clenched around the narrow trunk. Eyes closed, face deadly white and blank. He held his breath and then spoke softly.

"I can't get past the hate."

"Ezra, tell me about that." Emily's voice hadn't demanded, simply asked quietly and he found himself wanting to tell her. So he did.

Dusk was approaching. The sky had paled and clouds were gathering to cluster over the peaks, like handmaidens to the setting sun, blushing and flaring with pinks, oranges, scarlets, and reds. Streamers of color tore away to ride out on windblown bits of condensing water vapor. The crowning glory of sunset was flaming across the sky when Ezra and Emily emerged from the tree line and began to walk slowly across the open pastureland. The horses had been re-stabled, all of them since Chris had let the rest out after leaving Buck to simply relax in the afternoon sunshine.

Buck, a tired sentinel at the gates to the corral, straightened stiffly and headed inside, unnoticed by the walkers who were talking together. Buck's heart soared with hope. He'd seen the lightness to Ezra's steps, even from the distance. He's feeling better! Don't want him to think I was keeping an eye out for him, make him feel trapped. Buck settled on the porch and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

"Nice try, Buck." Ezra's voice sounded amused, sending further happiness like a drug to Buck's veins.

"Hey there, Ez. Doc. Just catching a little shut eye," he offered with a wide smile, his eyes bright as he connected with his lover, then searching as he met the doctor's. He didn't ask though, not here and now. Later.

"As I said, Buck, nice try." Ezra's face was flush and his eyes reddened but his voice was lilting with the tease, none of the pain that had been a constant companion sounded there now.

Buck sat up and tipped forward in his seat to rest his arms on the porch rail. "Glad you two got in before dark." No questions. He nearly bit his tongue. No questions. Just be here for him.

Ezra nodded. "Hardly fitting to lose this charming lady to a feral roving creature out there in the dark." He smiled across at the woman who stood comfortably at his side, smiling back at him. Buck saw that they didn't touch but it seemed a natural distance rather than some sign of trouble.

The woman, the doctor, Buck corrected himself, smiled up at him now. "Buck, I have heard so much about you now that I feel as if we are old friends already. And, I trust you to take good care of our mutual friend here. So," she finished, "I'll leave him safely in your good hands and go in to see Nathan and meet the others." She nodded in a friendly fashion and mounted the steps, passing the two men who faced each other in silence.

Once she was gone, the atmosphere changed. Ezra barked a small laugh, then choked out, "Buck?" There was so much pain and longing in the single word that Wilmington lunged out of his seat and vaulted the rail to land beside Ezra and drag the man into his arms.

"What? What happened? Ezra, are you alright? Ezra?" Buck was nearly stuttering in his anxiety. One minute Ezra stood there nearly glowing with good spirits, then next, like he'd turned a switch, he was dissolving in tears and pain in front of him. Frantically, Buck clasped his lover tightly. "Oh, god, Ezra, I love you so much. Tell me what's wrong, let me fix it."

Finally winding down and standing silent, waiting, Buck held Ezra. The southerner absorbed the comfort and love of that possession. He drank of it. His parched soul was eased. He swallowed hard and pushed back enough to be able to look up into Buck's down-turned face. "I'm sorry. I'm fine, really, just needed you."

"I'm here. I'm here. You got me, Pard." Buck's hands came up to sooth and stroke the sides of Ezra's face, his eyes looking intently into those mystic green ones, trying to read them.

"I talked. God, Buck, I talked forever." Ezra closed his eyes and leaned into the large hands, feeling their gentleness and caring in their touch. "It was like lancing an infected wound, letting all the disgusting matter leak out. Letting go."

"She's good, huh? Got you to talk, to tell her--?" Buck was careful not to fill in too much.

Ezra's eyes came open again. "Yes. She's good. A good friend already. And I did talk." He laughed, his eyes turning toward the ground, adding, "Talked too much, probably, but I trust her. Nathan does, and I felt the trueness of her. I'm safe with her." He looked back up. "Nearly as safe as when I'm with you."

Buck couldn't help the tender smile that lit up his anxious face. "Oh, Ez, I love you so much." Can't stop repeating myself, now that I finally admit it, seems to feel so right saying it.

"I love you, too, Buck. So much it hurts." Ezra leaned in and rested his head against the strong man, turning his head so that it lay against Buck's chest, so he could hear the man's heartbeat. "I love you," he muttered again.

Buck kissed the top of the curly dark brown hair presented and curled his arms more gently around his Ezra. His sweet Ezra. "Now what?"

"Now," Ezra answered without moving, "we take this show inside, say goodnight to the boys and Emily and go to bed." The last was said on a decidedly hopeful note.

"Nope, not until you eat something. Chris and Josiah are cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and they'd be right insulted if we didn't eat."

"Eat?" The dismay in Ezra's voice was clear. "Buck, I don't know--"

"You can eat. Just a little." Buck coaxed into one ear, leaning down further, "For me. Please, Ez. You have to eat, you're just skin and bones. You scare me."

Ezra sighed. "Alright. But not too much. Honestly, Buck, I really don't feel like eating and I will be sick if I try to force it."

"Ok, love, just a little." Buck kissed Ezra's brow as the man's face came up. "Then, bed."

Ezra smiled at that. "Good. I'll tell you about today then."

"Only if you want to, baby." Buck didn't want Ezra to feel he had to expose himself. The counseling was necessary, he could see already the difference in the smaller man, and the counselor was credible. It was enough that it was happening. He moved to the side and guided Ezra forward, moving them together up toward the steps to the porch and the kitchen beyond.

The rest of Team Seven got back to work. The days that followed swiftly fell into a pattern. Everyone slept out at the ranch. Emily was given Adam's old room. Buck and Ezra had the guest room. The others brought bedrolls; Josiah and Vin hauled the futons out of the upstairs storage room. They all set up camp in the large living room, cozy by the fire and the flickering light of the television that muttered nonstop for at least one of them throughout the nights. Sometimes it was Josiah, staring blankly at CNN, or Nathan hunched forward with Vin at his side, watching a replay of a daytime game on ESPN, or it was JD with his Nintendo game boy hooked up.

Mornings brought coffee, sometimes an early ride for a few of the men, exercising some of the horses in the dawn's light. Then the roar of motors would announce the departure of Chris' Ram, Nathan's SUV, Vin's jeep, JD's bike, and Josiah's suburban. Buck's truck would remain. The Jag sulked beside the barn.

Buck would play crossword puzzles in the back issues of the newspapers that Chris kept for starting fires in the fireplace. And, Ezra and Emily would disappear for a walk. A long walk, reappearing at midday to join Buck for lunch, usually just soup and bread. Ezra was eating though and that made Buck incredibly happy.

Then they'd leave again. Walking, sometimes even in the rain, slickered up and wearing old mucking boots for the stable. The walks went on. Each night, Ezra would quietly stare at the ceiling, safe in the circle of Buck's arms, and tell Buck about the conversations that he'd had with Emily that day. Buck listened. He held Ezra and soaked in the relaxed posture of his mate, the easing of his soul. It fascinated him that Ezra felt the need to repeat the conversations. Clearly not all of them, they'd never sleep. But the essence. When he wound down, Buck would kiss him and cuddle him closer, and they would sleep. Sex, intercourse, loving, took a back seat right now. Buck found he was quite content to simply hold his baby close and safe in his arms, happy at the sense of healing he heard and felt.

Ezra smiled more now. No flashing dimples yet, no sharp wit, but he was coming back again. The old Ezra, softer now with Buck's love, but still the man who had become the friend the other six wanted and needed back. Chris observed all this and thanked Travis back at the office. He was certain now that Ezra would be back on his feet, back at work again, soon. Maybe even a better agent than before because he'd be more settled, stronger with Buck in his corner permanently. Yep, they were a couple for life, that was clear and Chris was content with that, happy for his old friend and his newer one.

Travis had finally pulled in enough favors to wipe the slate for their errant agent. If the case against Ezra had gone to court, it would have helped no one, harmed a lot of folks. The other officials had finally come around to see that also. Case dismissed.

Orin had wanted to come out to the ranch to apologize in person, again, to Standish but Larabee held him off, explained that the counseling sessions, the therapy, was going on just now and that it would be better to wait, do it once Ezra was back on duty, in the office. A different setting from the one he was in now. The ranch was Ezra's safe house, his healing home at the moment, and Chris fully intended to protect that perception for his agent.

The rest of the team found their own ways to be quietly, unobtrusively supportive. Just being themselves at the end of each day, horsing around, joking, discussing their current unchallenging case had been exactly what Ezra needed to get back into normal gear. Back into his life. His life with Buck, and them. His family.

Ezra didn't know how to tell them all how much they meant to him. How much they were helping him. But he figured they were all smart and could see how he was improving and had to know they were part of that. At least, he hoped so. Emily's listening ear, quiet professionalism, and friendly presence soothed him. He could talk to her forever. It didn't even bother him that it was her job, he could sense that it was also simply who she was. And he was grateful to Nathan for bringing her in to help. Fienman would have been a deadly mistake he now knew. He recognized the hostility in himself and knew he would have blown it with the ATF psychologist. No, Emily was the cure he needed.

The closeness with Buck was growing daily, nightly. They were building new layers of bonds that had little to do with loving and lots to do with love and trust and caring. Ezra's heart seemed to grow, the prison of pain crumbling away as the days passed by. Five days into the therapy, Emily told Ezra that she had to get back to her practice and she wished him well.

"You're going? Just like that?" Ezra was shocked. They'd been strolling their now familiar path, it was mid-morning. He'd talked for a couple of hours, childhood memories that had helped shape his manhood, painful still but not able to hurt as much now. Not with the 'family' he'd acquired, not with Buck nearby, not with Emily there. He stopped walking and turned to face her.

"Ezra," she answered gently, "You are fine now. Really fine. We could do this for the rest of our lives. You have a lot of history to work through, but the big problem is fixed, the issues you had, the hate and anger and fear are all dealt with."

"But Emily, I'll be lost again." Ezra flushed as he heard the fright in his voice.

"No, you won't." Emily was firm, reaching out to touch him for the very first time, fingers resting lightly on one shoulder. "You are better now. You are back in control. Ezra, what you are talking about this morning? It's the parts of you that are the essential YOU. You don't need to be telling me about these parts. Tell Buck. He needs to hear, to understand, to know. You still need to talk them out. That's part of what will complete the sharing and trust building in your relationship with him. He'll talk too, and you'll listen and learn too. That's what needs to happen now. You don't need me anymore."

Ezra was silent, studying her face and realizing her poker face was as good as his own. He laughed ruefully. "You have become an addiction. A luxury item in my life." He shook his head and faced up the path again, beginning to walk, knowing she'd walk beside him. "Thank you, Emily. I do understand. You are right. I am back in control and I was very much out of control before. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Ezra."

"Thank you for understanding about Buck and me, too. For being so accepting. For talking about us like you would any other couple, any normal couple."

"You are a normal couple." She laughed lightly now too. "Well, hell, except for society's weird rules that say you have to have one of each kind." She shook her head and smiled. "I never was much for following those rules. They really aren't too meaningful in terms of real life."

Ezra was grateful. He wanted to tell her that but he already had. Instead, he waited in silence a bit as they continued their walk, heading back toward the ranch house early today. Finally, feeling enough time had elapsed, he spoke again. "Emily, Buck and I are grateful to you. I'll tell him what you said. We'll talk. Might not be out here on the trails, walking, but we will talk. I will tell him about me, listen as he tells me about himself. We already are changing in a healthy way, largely thanks to you." He cocked his head and asked, "Did you know? We haven't had any sex all week while you've been here."

"You had love."

"Yes." Ezra's tone was one of awe and happiness. "That we have."

"It will only keep growing stronger as the days and years pass, Ezra. I can tell. You two are a match."

"Yes." Ezra's words were small, sincere. He'd learned he didn't need to hide from Emily, not even with words. Most especially not with words. "Will you stay until the rest of the family gets back?"

The word family came out so naturally that he didn't even notice he'd said it, but Loring did and smiled again. "No, I don't think so. I'll pack while you and Buck make us some lunch, call me a cab. Then, after lunch, I'll leave and let you two have some time to yourselves. That is what you both need now, Ezra."

They continued into the pasture, the ranch house beckoning them onwards. And the day went much as Emily predicted.

"Hey, Buck, you watch out for Peso, looks like he's feeling his oats there son." Josiah's jovial tone made the other men laugh as they watched Buck pat his Gray inside the corral. Ezra sat perched up on the top rail, smiling and feeding a lifesaver to Chaucer who'd nudged in close, pushing Buck and his horse to the side. Peso had edged in closer, looking playful. The rest of the horses were ignoring the scene, huddled peacefully on the far side of the corral, heads resting on each other's backs in the sunshiny late afternoon's waning light. The rest of the team were sprawled on the porch in comfortable poses, beers in hands, watching with pleasure as their two friends eased back into the 'family.'

Peso's neck snaked in and he nipped the fat belly of the rangy gray. Gray's eyes went round and then he was kicking back and hedgehopped sideways with a grunt. Buck backed away from the large animals' play, knocking into Chaucer who ducked his head and then raised it sharply in irritation. Ezra, who'd been leaning forward to feed his mount, collided with the horse's head and pitched forward from his perch.

"Ezra!" "BUCK, watch out!" the alarmed cries of warning came from the throats of the five other men.

Buck spun on his heels, arms already out at the warnings, catching Ezra in his arms. He settled the smaller man against his chest and ducked his head to kiss him thoroughly, the cheers from the porch fading in the background as his world narrowed to Ezra in his arms. When he came up for air, Ezra's arms circled his neck fiercely, drawing him back down to a dimpled smiling face. The second kiss was even hotter, more enticing than the first. Buck broke free at last to haul in a deep breath and let it out in a joyful shout of laughter, spinning on his heels again, turning himself and Ezra in a dizzying circle that had the their horses moving away in slight alarm. He looked down into moss green eyes and grinned. "Ah, Ez, life's gonna be good, baby."

"Most certainly, my love, most certainly." One of Ezra's hands slid into Buck's thick mane of dark hair and pulled him back down into a third, slower, nurturing kiss. Life was good for Ezra. Finally.

fini