Sequel to: Lockpicks and Photographs

His head throbbed, his stomach churned like the inside of a washing machine, his tongue felt furry and swollen and his eyes refused to open. He rolled over to the edge of his bed. Big mistake.

A callused hand rubbed his back as the contents of his stomach erupted over the side of his bed. When he finished the hand disappeared and he heard someone walk away from his bed then the sound of running water.

He didn't remember much after he returned to the condo after turning in his resignation. Just walking in and crawling into a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Whoever was in the condo with him returned. A damp washcloth touched his mouth. Someone gently cleaned his face then left.

He didn't think he'd be stupid enough to leave his condo drunk. Let alone bring someone back. But that's what had to have happened. None of his former teammates would care enough to stop by. Chris would probably be glad he turned in his resignation.

It was obvious after a quick inventory of his aches and pains that his guest hadn't taken advantage of his drunken situation. But that might change.

He peeled one eye partially open but it quickly dropped back down as he caught a glimpse of someone walking towards the bed. The mattress dipped under someone's weight.

"Ezra."

Surprise and shock gave him the strength to open his eyes.

"Chris?" Pain shot through his head, punishing him for speaking.

*Mr. Larabee, get out. I don't want you here. *

*I will. *

"You promised to leave," he whispered, upset that Chris lied to him, glad he stayed.

"I crossed my fingers."

Ezra's laugh turned to a groan of pain.

"Ezra!" Cool fingers stroked the hair off his forehead.

"I'm fine. That sounded like something Mr. Wilmington would do." His fingertips brushed his bruised jaw. "How's J.D.?"

"On the mend. Spoke to him a little while ago. He wants to see you."

"I want to see him too." Ezra said. He sat up, Chris' hands helping.

"Later, after you get more sleep. You look like hell and I don't want you scaring him."

Ezra glared at him.

Chris grinned at him. "You could use a shower. You smell like a distillery."

Chris was between him and the edge of the bed. There wasn't enough energy left in his body for him to crawl to the other side and still make it to the bathroom. "Mr. Larabee, would you mind moving so I can take a shower and no longer offend your delicate sense of smell?

Instead of moving Chris leaned over and picked up a glass of water and a bottle of Advil from the nightstand. "Drink this."

Ezra drank the water as Chris pried open the bottle. Quickly he swallowed the pills that Chris handed him.

After Ezra took the pills and drank the water, Chris stood as Ezra slid over to the edge and swung his legs onto the floor.

"Need some help?"

Ezra sat there for a moment waiting for the room to slow to a stop. "I'm fine," he answered, standing and turning his back to the older agent.

"What the hell?"

Ezra stopped, his back stiffening. He didn't know that Chris had walked up behind him until he felt Chris' fingers brush his back.

"Buck do that to you?"

"No, the emergency room wall did that to me. Mr. Wilmington just bruised my jaw."

He felt a soft of breath against the nape of his neck as Chris let out an exasperated sigh.

"You could press charges." Warm hands rested lightly on his shoulders.

Ezra resisted the urge to lean back against Chris. "If I cared for someone was much as Buck does J.D., I would have reacted the same way."

Chris squeezed his arm. "You better go take that shower. Do you think your stomach can handle some soup?"

"Yes."

"If you need any help, yell."

As soon as he entered the bathroom, he closed the door and leaned against it. He stood that way for several moments regaining his strength before moving over to the sink. "Chris is right," he thought, seeing his reflection in the mirror. Greasy hair stood on end. Dark circles rimmed bloodshot eyes. A purple bruise on his cheek was not quite hidden by the stubble covering his face. Hell indeed.

The stubble could quickly be taking care of. He picked up the electric razor from beside the sink.

Within minutes the stubble was a memory. He leaned closer to the mirror, running his fingers across the bruise on his right jaw. The doors of the emergency room had barely swished shut behind him before Buck had punched him in the jaw. Nathan and Josiah grabbed Buck seconds too late, the look on their faces telling him that they agreed with the ladies' man. They just didn't agree with his methods. Buck struggled to break free but the two other agents tightened their hold.

Josiah had asked him to leave. He drove around for an hour before going to the office and writing his resignation.

He brushed his teeth before turning away from the mirror and walking over to the shower. Reaching inside the shower, he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Quickly, he stripped off his boxers and stepped under the water.

Chris hasn't got my resignation yet. He doubted Chris would have broken into the condo if he had found the resignation. A slight grin tugged at the corners of lips. There was no doubt as to how Chris had gotten in. Chris had learned quickly the day he spent at Chris' ranch teaching his boss how to pick locks.

His grin faded. That was the day that he fooled himself into believing that Chris cared for him as a person and not for his value to the team. He even let Chris talk him into going on that damnable fishing trip.

He rested his head against the shower stall. The only person to care for him was J.D. J.D. gave him that picture of Chris and himself when he could have easily used it against him. J.D. stepped between him and Krentz, taking the bullet meant for Ezra.

Clamping down on his thoughts, he finished his shower and stepped out. He dried with a towel then reached for his robe. Which was in the closet in his bedroom.

Damn.

He wrapped a dry towel around his waist, before stepping into bedroom. Chris had been busy while he was showering. The soiled sheets had been remade with fresh linen, the floor cleaned, the photo of Chris was in its accustomed place.

Oh, God.

"Ezra, you want to eat in the kitchen or in here? Ezra?"

Ezra turned towards Chris. "I want you to leave."

Chris looked over Ezra's shoulder then at Ezra, his expression blank.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Chris moved across the few feet separating them. He cupped Ezra's face with both hands, tilting his head back.

"Chris..."

Swiftly, Chris covered Ezra's lips with his, darting tongue pass lips and teeth. Ezra froze in shock as the kiss deepened. Chris dropped his hands from Ezra's face to his shoulders, tugging him closer then broke off the kiss. "I love you, Ezra."

"You love me?"

Chris brushed a light kiss across his lips. "Since Atlanta. So much time wasted."

Ezra grabbed Chris' right hand, stepping backwards, tugging Chris towards the bed.

The older agent dug his heels into the carpet. "No."

"No?"

Chris pulled Ezra back into his arms. He lightly ran his left hand over the bruises on Ezra's back. Ezra flinched. "The first time we make love the only pain I want you in is the pain that comes from pleasure," Chris whispered into his ear.

"What shall we do until then?"

Chris smiled. "I'll go get your soup."

"That wasn't what I had in mind."

"I know." The smile Chris gave him was teasing. "Then we'll tear up your resignation."

"You found it?"

"Judge Travis did. He brought it to the hospital. That's when I found out about Buck attacking you." Chris clenched his right hand in a fist. The knuckles were bloody and scraped.

"Chris, no, he's your oldest friend. I'm not worth losing his friendship. "

"Yes, you are. Besides J.D. told us what happened. Buck knew he deserved it."

Ezra sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me."

"I already do."

"Do you?" The expression in Chris' eyes told him that he knew that Ezra loved him but he needed to hear the words.

"Yes, I do. I love you, Chris Larabee. Forever."