Fisher let his eyes wander slowly around the room, noting who was present and who was not. "Didn't send for him." He faced Ezra's partner again, wondering about this unknown man. They had only Ezra's word for him. "And he hasn't been back in here."

Buck's lower face seemed to swell as he ground his teeth and flexed his taut jawbone. Before he could speak, though, Fisher suddenly stood up and headed toward the back way out of the bar. "Ivan's gone missing too."

Silently, because anything he might say could only hurt the case, Buck followed, trying to remain calm as he remembered the big, aggressive biker of that name. Fisher's second in command.

As the two men stepped down into the dirt parking area behind the bar, a group of men were emerging from one of the other small cabins. Portlach was in the lead, grinning and buckling his belt. Two of the other men were likewise fastening their pants. The door behind them stood open and dark.

"Damn it, I-Man, I thought I told you to leave Ezra alone," Fisher grit out.

Portlach's grin dimmed slightly and he held out his hands, skyward as he shrugged, trying for an innocent look and not succeeding. "Hey, he'll only be a little sore. He ain't drivin' a bike no more, so that won't matter."

Buck had listened to the exchange with slowly growing horror as it dawned on him exactly what these two men were saying and not saying. He started forward, aimed for Portlach's still smirking face. He started slowly, walking. He started speaking at the same time, ignoring Fisher at his side. "Why you slimy son-oF-A-BITCH!" By the time the last word was uttered, his normal speaking voice had risen to a shout of anger, and his walk had moved into a full-fledged charging run.

Before anyone could stop him, Buck had slammed into the other man, his right roundhouse punch nearly lifting the other big man off his feet. Ivan wasn't about to let this newbie show him up. He hadn't let Wilson get away with trying to mark off Ezra as private turf, and now he wouldn't let Wilson show him up in a fight. He staggered back and pulled a shiv from his boot. The narrow stiletto style blade glittered in the sunlight as he waved it in front of this upstart oaf.

Wilmington jumped back, pulling in his stomach to protect himself from the flashing steel. His outrage and sheer fury remained unabated but he wasn't about to let this cretin get the better of him. He yanked a hip knife free of its sheath on the belt of one of the growing circle of onlookers. The knife was not as long as Ivan's deadly weapon, but it would help balance the scales. Buck dove forward onto one shoulder and rolled under Ivan's next swing attack, then he was up and driving his blade in toward the other man's unprotected belly. At the last moment, Buck managed to shift his aim and merely tear a burning strip from the man's waist, beneath the ribcage. Ivan was now jumping back and slashing down at the same time. He missed his primary target, Wilson's heart, but managed to nick the inside of his upper arm. Both men were now blooded and circling each other, knives held out to the sides, each looking for a weakness.

In his mind, Buck kept seeing that damn open door, so dark and empty. He kept seeing Portlach's grin as he strolled away from that door, fastening his pants. He kept seeing Ivan in the bar earlier, fondling his balls and stick, posturing and heckling. Each image added to his fury. Somewhere in the cold, dark center of that rage were his fears for his friend. Ezra was still unseen.

Each man shifted and drove a knife towards unprotected flesh. Then Ivan stumbled over a group of stones and fell onto his back. Buck was on him in an instant, putting his knife to the man's throat and pressing. With his other hand, he held the wrist of Ivan's knife-bearing hand. He watched with satisfaction as his sharp blade broke through the throat skin and began to leave a trail of bright red blood across the underside of the man's chin. Ivan's reddish eyes narrowed as he panted under Buck's knife. He gave no indication of pain despite this second cut.

The shouts and whistles of the circling men died down until it was silent. All the men stared at the two on the ground. Into this well of silence, the harsh sound of the two fighters' breathing sawed.

"Buck, let him up. It's okay. I'm okay."

Ezra's rasping voice was like a pebble falling into the water, causing ripples to form and move outward from the source. The men around the combatants opened a path to the porch of the cabin. Ivan's grin started to grow larger again, his eyes daring the other man to act. Buck looked up to see Ezra standing in the doorway, the dark doorway. His shirt was missing. His hair stood on end in strange patches. His pale skin showed dark marks, visible even in the shade where he stood. He was still wearing his jeans but they were dirty at the knees. He was clearly shaking and trying not to.

Buck let the knife drop from his hand and shoved one knee into Portlach's chest to give himself leverage to stand. He ignored the choking grunt from his opponent and bent down to capture one large hand. With a viciousness and ferocity seldom seen, Wilmington twisted the man's arm and wrist with torque until the man moaned and tried to writhe on the ground to relieve some of the pain in the over-stressed joints. Then, there was a cracking, popping sound and Ivan screamed.

Buck dropped Portlach's limp arm, that now sported three broken fingers, and walked away without looking back. Walked up to where Ezra stood leaning on the doorjamb of the dark cabin. When he reached the small porch, he mounted the steps in one large one, coming to a halt directly in front of the smaller man. Ezra didn't attempt to look up, instead he was watching the scene behind Wilmington. Ivan was up on his knees, his eyes daggers of hate aimed at Buck's back. The other men were already dispersing.

Speaking softly so the other men would not hear, Ezra murmured haltingly, "Come on inside, Buck. Let's claim some privacy for a while."

Wilmington nodded and followed his friend's lead. But, as he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to face the men behind him. Fisher stood there, arms folded, glaring at Ivan Portlach. No one else stood too close and most were no longer in sight.

"Yo, Fisher." When the leader looked up, Buck growled, "Keep your man away from mine. I mean it. Next time, I won't stop." He paused to see if there were any questions. Better damn well not be. "For now, this cabin is mine and Ezra's. We'll be out later." Then Wilmington stepped inside and shut the door. Shutting out the ugliness of this assignment. He turned to face Ezra.

Ezra had pitched face down on one of the two filthy looking twin beds. He wasn't moving.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buck stood there with his back to the door he'd just shut. Flush with the blood lust of the fight, heavy with the emotional fury and fear he'd been juggling, he simply stood. Ezra still wasn't moving, but he could see the man's back rising and falling slightly with his breathing. In the dim interior light, hand-shaped bruises stood out on his shoulders and arms, parts of others showed above his belt at his waist.

Buck closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a thud against the cheap wooden door. The room seemed unnaturally silent but he was really not sure what to say to break that emptiness. He hadn't been there when he was needed. No excuse was enough. No excuse was acceptable. And -- Ezra had been hurt because he hadn't done his job. His Ezra was hurt, violated by those dirty bastards. He had to clench his body to prevent himself from charging back outside and finishing what he'd started. Ezra was right, dammit. He rolled his head from side to side as a wave of deep sadness overwhelmed him. Fists tight, he stood there in an agony of regret for how very wrong things had gone. For Erza who had had to pay the price of that wrongness. Undercover sucked.

Ezra lay on the narrow bed, just breathing. It seemed to be all he was capable of doing just now. He'd dragged himself to the door earlier, to stop Buck's foolishly vengeful act. It was sheer bloody-mindedness that had got him off the floor where he'd been left and to that door when he heard Buck's shout and then the sounds of other men yelling. Now, safely back inside this small cabin, with Buck to guard the door, he just wanted to breathe. Not feel. Not think. Not anything except breathe. That was enough. Just breathe.

Three gunshots sounded just outside the cabin. So close that they were shockingly loud. Instantly Buck sprang away from the door and ripped it open, ducking low to the side, pulling his ankle gun free and looking out. Behind him, he heard Ezra hit the floor and scramble to the other side of the doorframe, and then Buck saw that Ezra had his own small boot derringer in his hand as he also peered out.

Three men lay in the dust. Gent Fisher stood over them with a gun in his hand. He looked up and faced Wilmington and Standish as he tucked the automatic into the back of his waistband. Some of his men shuffled closer and began to drag the bodies away. Buck and Ezra both dropped their gun hands down out of sight behind their bodies. No one was talking. Fisher waited until he had a clear path, then walked up to the foot of the small cabin's porch steps.

"I don't need people who can't follow my orders. No one goes against my word." He turned partly away from the porch so that he was no longer looking at the two men who had now risen to their feet. "Ezra. It won't happen again."

With that, the leader of the pack turned away completely and headed for the backdoor to the bar. By now the bodies were gone and no other bikers were in sight. Buck had seen enough to know that Ivan and the two bikers who'd followed his lead were now all dead. He didn't even feel guilty for the satisfaction that rose inside him. He owed Fisher for that. Another problem to be faced. With dark eyes of pain, he turned toward Ezra Standish. Ezra still didn't look at him, just went back inside without a word. Ezra hadn't looked at him since -- since when they'd been in the office cabin with Kelly. Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, Wilmington slowly followed his fellow agent back into the cabin, closing the door with a soft click.

Buck stood there, looking sightlessly at the door less than six inches from his face as he snicked home the simple locking bolt. Somehow he couldn't bear to get further into the room than this damn door. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the door. Make this a dream that didn't happen.

Ezra had retreated once again to the bed, but instead of simply falling on it, he sat on the end, and gripped the edges of the mattress with his hands. He stared at his feet where they rested on the floor and, after several moments of continued silence, dared to look up, only to see Buck standing just inside the room with his back to Ezra, head against the door. He can't stand the sight of me. Ezra dropped his head back down on to his chest. He really didn't even want to think about the implications of the three dead men outside, the men who had taken him only minutes ago. Minutes? Lifetimes. It wasn't Buck's fault though he probably blamed himself. Neither of them had thought there was any danger when Buck left Ezra in the small office and went off to check on the inventory. It was a breakthrough in the case. It was a good thing.

Ezra sat up a bit straighter, grimacing at the stickiness on his ass that made his jeans and underpants feel clammy now and rough. He needed to get cleaned up. He shifted slightly. Not too much pain, but then he was no virgin and after a year of Tony, he wasn't unused to rough handling either. Still, it hadn't been fun, no, not fun at all. He didn't have the luxury of feeling anything right now, not rage, not anything. He couldn't allow himself that. He licked his lips and wondered what Buck's hands would feel like on his skin. Not like those others, he was sure. Gentle, they'd be gentle and sensitive and -- and he needed to get a grip. He was undercover and another's life depended on him. Buck was depending on him. He could fall apart later, after the case. Just like always. After the case was closed.

Ezra pushed himself awkwardly to his feet and stood a moment, getting his balance. Without an adrenaline rush, such as the earlier shout and later gunshots had produced, he was feeling dizzy and tired and just plain bad. Time to take yourself to task, Ezra P., starting with getting Buck back in the game.

"Buck?"

Wilmington squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and lifted his head, turning to face his partner. Ezra was standing, though he didn't look that steady on his feet. "How ya doin', Pard?" he managed to ask, keeping his voice steady.

"It's part of the case, Buck. We thought it might happen. It did. Time to get on with it." Ezra maintained a steady tone as he spoke, trying to project calm and assurance. Like this happened every fuckin' day. Right. "Buck? I could use some help."

Instantly, Wilmington sprang forward, contrition in his very movements, "Aw, Ez, I'm so sorry! Damn, what was I thinking? What do you need? What can I do?"

By now Wilmington was towering over the smaller man, too close for Ezra's comfort, but at this point Ezra knew that Buck needed to do something and he could give him this. Even if it meant inflicting torture on himself as he now realized that he was seeing Buck differently, as more than a work partner. More than a safe harbor, more like an anchor for his heart. Damn it, Ezra P., there's no time for this, and look who you picked? The ladies man in our merry little band, for goodness sake! Foolish, foolish. Alright, to task. "I need to clean up. Can you get the first aid kit from our packs? I think I'm going to need it."

"Ezra, I don't want to leave you again." Buck hesitated. "Let me help you clean up. See what's what. If it's bad, I'll yell for help. If not, we go get the kit together. Okay?" Buck stood there, wanting desperately to haul the smaller man into his arms and comfort him, but worried that that might be just the wrong thing to do just now. The man had just been assaulted and even though Buck was his friend, any hands might be too much for him yet. He waited.

Ezra thought about it. Buck was right. He stared at the man's tee shirt, now adorned with deep sweat marks. The black leather jacket had a cut through the inside of the upper arm and a light trickle of blood was dripping from Buck's fingers. I suspect he hasn't noticed that yet. Help me clean up? Ezra examined the idea as he stood there swaying slightly. This man's touch was welcome, this one man's. Could he say that? No, but Buck wouldn't ever have to know. And, if he thought that Ezra just took being raped in his stride and let men touch him freely, well, so be it. But only Buck. "Okay." He looked up into deep blue seas and was lost.

Buck watched Ezra finally look up and meet his eyes, the emerald pools instantly losing focus and the lids beginning to lower. "Ez?" With extreme care, the tall man touched his friend's shoulders, barely letting any pressure hold the man still. There was a tiny shiver of the bare flesh under his fingertips that quickly stopped. "Okay, let's get you turned around and into the bathroom." Suiting actions to words, he delicately steered the small southerner around and into the bathroom. Sat him down on the closed toilet lid and took down a towel.

Running water in the sink, Buck checked out the tub. It looked pretty clean, actually. He leaned over Ezra, freezing when he heard a quick inhale. Backing away quickly, he tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Ez, just wanted to turn on the tub water, wasn't thinking."

But Ezra was already leaning back and waving a hand. "No problem, I'm sorry, Buck, just jumpy still, I guess."

"Understandable," Buck muttered as he twisted the knobs of hot and cold water, pulling the plug in the bottom of the tub into position. "We'll just let that run while I give you a little wipe down." Buck dipped the hand towel into the sink and then lifted the damp corner. "I'm gonna wipe your face now, Ezra."

Standish nodded, trying to keep himself from reacting to this man's touch too obviously. He relaxed as the towel was soothingly applied, gently wiping at dirt and sweat and dried tear tracks. Moving with trancelike delicacy over the bruises on shoulders and arms, sliding down each arm to wipe each finger with slow, sweet care. Oh, god, this is wonderful, this is exquisite, this is unlooked for and to be remembered on future cold and lonely nights, Ezra decided, letting himself sink into the hands of this man who'd snuck up on him unawares.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buck swallowed hard, keeping his hands gentle and slow as he wiped the damp hand towel over Ezra's bruises and down his arms. Somehow, Buck found himself bewitched by Ezra's long delicate fingers, the small hands like precious offerings in his larger, workmanlike hands. He cleaned each digit with precision and care, letting his own fingers toy with the finished ones as he diligently pursued the rest. Sitting on the edge of the tub in the dingy old motel room, with Ezra perched on the closed toilet seat lid in front of him, he lost himself in the fine feel of the small hands. His original purpose seemed to escape him until the rising steam of the bath behind him began to make him sweat in his black leather jacket. As if waking from a daze, he looked up at Ezra.

The southerner was leaning forward, almost but not quite touching him. His glowing green eyes were hooded again, and a small half-smile was making his face look like that of an angel. His angel, Buck decided protectively. Possessively. Tentatively, he reached up with one hand and wiped back Ezra's too long reddish brown hair, the curls wrapping around his fingers insistently. Green eyes lifted to meet his and Buck was thoroughly lost in their mossy depths. With a catch in his breathing, Buck spoke so softly, it was barely a whisper of sound, but both heard the plaintive, "Ez?"

Ezra met the deep blue eyes and heard the hesitant, questioning, almost pleading tone. He felt so vulnerable just now. He'd had his dignity ripped from him only a short time ago, his body violated crudely and brutally. And now, this wonderful sweet man was here to protect him, to care for him, and was touching him in ways that friends didn't touch, but lovers did. I am simply not prepared for this. How can I be? How can I tell Buck that this is not right for him, that *I* am not right for him? When I want so much for it to be true, for me to be right for him. Ezra lowered his gaze, tears suddenly flooding his vision, blurring the already fuzzy sight. What can I say? Nothing. So he did not speak.

Well, he hasn't yelled at me to stop or pushed me aside. Buck tried to find something reassuring about Ezra's silence. Okay, this is not about me right now, he reminded himself heartlessly. If you have it that bad for the man, you can damn well wait and do it right, later. Just now, he needs tending, not -- well, not anything else to mess with his head. Buck released the hands he'd held so carefully, setting them to rest in Ezra's lap. He stood slowly so as not to scare his friend and shrugged out of his jacket. Too damn hot in here now for this. He tossed it out on to the nearest bed past the door. Just as he was turning to reach for Ezra again there was a loud knock at the door to the cabin. Instantly, Ezra was up, clutching the small damp hand towel to his chest, a look of sheer panic on his face. "Easy, Ez, I'll go see to it, you just stay here."

Buck closed the door to the bathroom after trying and failing to meet Ezra's eyes, eyes that were flashing around the bathroom with a look of trapped fear. With that last glimpse burned in his thoughts, he was angry as he jerked open the front door of the cabin, not even thinking to be prepared for an attack. Damn stupid, he chastised himself as he stared down at Toad Guffy who looked, fortunately, quite innocuous.

"Ah, Wilson? Gent said for me to get the key to your bike, bring it around back here for you so you could get to your packs and Ezra's."

Wilmington thought about it for a moment, staring at the shifting figure in front of him without comment. Well, it would solve the first aid kit problem and give them some other clothing for Ezra. "Sure." He fished the key out of his jeans and tossed it to the other man. "Just leave the key in it when you get back, I'll come out for the stuff."

Toad nodded and hurried away. Buck looked over his shoulder, back into the empty room and on to the closed door. Should let Ezra know, so he can stop worrying. Leaving the outside door open so he could hear his bike, he walked over to the bathroom door and tapped on it, slow and soft. "Ezra? It's me, Buck. Everything's fine. Guffy came to get the key to our bike, he's bringing it around back so we can get out our stuff." No answer except for a light scuffling sound. "Um, Ez? I'm gonna stay out here and wait for the bike. Soon's I get our stuff off it, I'll lock up again and come back in with you."

Still no answer. Buck eyed the door with compassion. The man was a mess, had been before they'd even gotten here today and now this all came on top of it. He wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. He wanted to curse. He just wanted the world to go away and let him get to know this Ezra, this treasure that he'd just discovered, like an unlooked for gold nugget in a stream bed. He didn't yet question how he could be having these feelings and thoughts for a man. For his friend. But he couldn't deny them either. Felt right somehow. He'd always respected the man, the skills and talents and professionalism. He had grown to like their little conman, think of him with affectionate tolerance for his foibles, just as Ezra no doubt thought of him. And, just how did Ezra think of him now? Another question to be shelved for later, after this damn case was closed. Well, they'd been let in on the business itself, the gunrunning. He'd actually seen current inventory of guns. They could get the Hawks now on possession, but it would do more if they could bust an actual sale. Could they wait that long? Could Ezra last that long? Buck hadn't been much help so far. Buck closed his eyes in painful recollection of his discovery of what the bikers had done to Ezra. The sound of his bike purring close by brought him out of his downward spiral of thoughts. Pulling back his shoulders, Buck stepped out on the small porch and watched as Toad parked the big bike.

"Nice ride." Guffy ran an appreciative hand over the seat.

"Just leave it."

Guffy looked up at the harshly spoken words. Buck wasn't ready to forgive any one of the damn bikers, even though Ezra's attackers were now dead, housecleaned out of existence by the pack leader, Gent Fisher. Message received, Toad backed away and then turned and walked off, casting nervous glances over his shoulder.

Buck ignored the gang's gopher and stepped down onto the dirt parking area. Taking the key from the ignition, he made sure the bike was locked and then opened and removed his and Ezra's packs from the side-saddle hard cases. He looked around speculatively, there was no one in sight, it was almost unnatural. Guess old Gent Fisher's method of keeping the boys in line took, this time. He grinned ferally. Wishing he'd been able to take care of those shits himself, but grateful to the pack leader for his decisive discipline. We'd a' been in all sorts of trouble with the ATF if I *had* done it.

These thoughts were ticking over as he mounted the steps again and went through the door, dumping the packs on the same bed as his jacket. He swung the door shut and locked it, again. For the first time, he noticed he was bleeding. Doesn't even hurt yet. Too much going on for me to feel it. He shook his head and sorted through the packs to pull out the first aid kit. Looks like Ez and me will be doing each other.

Reaching the bathroom door, he put the kit down on the floor and took a deep breath. Knocked lightly. "Ez? Just me. I'm alone. Can I come in?" Not waiting for a possible response, Buck opened the door and looked inside. Ezra was on the floor, next to the toilet, halfway under the sink basin, huddled there with eyes staring unblinkingly toward the door. He held a metal comb in his hands as if it was a weapon. Thank god he didn't pull his derringer again. Said something about his state of mind that he hadn't thought of that. In the background, the tub continued to fill, unabated, the steam rising in clouds now and the water level nearly even with the rim of the tub.

Buck decided to deal with the water first or they'd both drown. Putting a small smile on his face he edged around the undercover agent and over to the tub. "Just gonna turn off the water, Pard." He tried to convey reassurance in his tone.

Once the water was halted, Buck faced into the room again and looked down at Ezra who had swiveled and was looking up at him. Suddenly realizing just how his towering frame must look to the crouched figure, Buck slowly squatted down, keeping his distance. Ezra's head followed his moves.

"Pard? Ez, old buddy? I'm gonna need your help now too." He lifted one arm up to the side to display the shallow scratch left by Ivan's knife as it cut through the jacket and skimmed across his bicep. A thin curtain of blood discolored the flesh, dropping down from the cut.

One tentative hand came free of the huddle, the other still clutching the metal comb defensively. The shaking hand lightly touched the bloody skin, pulling back to rub thumb and fingers in the sticky red substance. Slowly, the comb was lowered to the floor and that arm joined the first, both now reaching out toward Buck. Groping and asking silently for something. Buck dropped forward onto his knees, resting on his heels and extended his own arms. "Ez? This what you need, Pard?" Offering his arms.

For a few heartbeats the tableau held. And then with a wordless cry, the southerner scrambled out from under the sink and into the waiting arms, his own wrapping ferociously around Buck's neck as he buried his head hard against the bigger man's neck.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Chris was leaning back on the bench of the Seven's table at Inez's saloon. Vin was next to him, pressed warmly but unobtrusively so. Each held a beer mug as they listened to Nathan try to explain sexuality to JD, so far unsuccessfully. Josiah, who thought he was helping, kept making obscure comments that tended to drag the discussion into endless byways -- without making JD any more enlightened.

JD kept shooting uncomfortable looks over at the silent, observing couple. Funny, now that he knew, they did look like a couple, they way they moved, their closeness, physical as well as mental. And he was fine with it. In fact, it was so natural looking, that he wondered that he'd ever been naïve enough to think it was anything less. Now Nathan was trying to get him to believe that everyone was a little bit straight and a little bit gay, just some were more one way and some were more the other.

JD interrupted yet another of Nathan's measured logics, "Nate, I just don't buy that. It would be like -- well, like saying BUCK could be with a man! Ya know who I mean, right? OUR Buck? Our 'ladies man' who's never without a date on Saturday night." JD sat back with a smug look on his face, arms crossed triumphantly. No one could top *that* he was certain.

Josiah, though, easily took up the argument. "He is undercover as Ezra's boyfriend even as we speak. And he did not seem to be unduly upset at the prospect."

JD shook his head knowingly, "Naw, but that's 'cause it's Ez. He'd do anything for any of us, and Ez is one of us." JD squirmed in his seat and picked up his own beer. "And if that ain't enough of an example, why look at me! I been with Casey now for nearly a year. We'll probably get married some day, too. And I ain't the least bit interested in any man, not even in my closest friend, not even in Buck!" That surely clinched the argument.

Nathan sat back and sighed. JD was nearly as stubborn as the rest of them, but the boy did have a point. Buck was a ladies man to the bone, and went out of his way to show it constantly. He blinked. Unless. Unless, it was a case of 'the lady doth protest too much?' Did Buck go publicly hunting for ladies while privately pursuing men? No, that wasn't Buck. He just didn't have that kind of subtlety in him. If he was gay, why, then they'd all know that too. Probably running for cover, too, Nate thought with a small grin.

Josiah decided that it was not in anyone's best interest to persist with this particular discussion topic. Chris and Vin had not, so far, been offended by anything said, but it seemed to Josiah that eventually even they would begin to get edgy at JD's blundering thoughts.

Eyes meeting across JD's head, the EMT and the profiler smiled in warm agreement, let this die out, now. Together they raised their hands in surrender to their youngest. JD missed the silent dialogue but neither Chris nor Vin missed it. The team leader and the sharpshooter simply hid their twin grins in beer foam with raised mugs as JD preened, "See? Told you you were wrong!"

No one argued. Nothing to be gained. They all settled back comfortably to speculate on the first day undercover for Buck as he joined Ezra on assignment. Soon they were laughingly imagining the man's discomfort at the act he was having to put on in front of the bikers' gang. Though, Chris and Vin both responded with subdued comments and only small smiles. Neither wanted to guess what this might all be doing to Ezra. Nathan, who'd been on the same wavelength this time, also withdrew slightly, almost unnoticed as he became pensive at thoughts of how Ezra might be dealing with things just now, life had not dealt their undercover agent a winning hand lately.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Like a limpet, Ezra's small body was twined around Buck as he knelt on the old linoleum floor of the cabin's bathroom. His legs were wrapped around Buck's waist, arms nearly strangling him, head pressed into the muscles and flesh of his neck. Buck held on for all he was worth, trying to convey with his strength and his warmth that he was here for his friend, would always be here for him. A safe place.

They stayed that way until Buck's knee joints began to complain and he knew he'd go lame if he didn't move soon. "Ezra?" Buck spoke softly. "Ezra, baby? I gotta move or your friend here is gonna be a cripple." He let humor infuse his voice.

At first there was no response, then Ezra gradually let go, sliding toward the floor as he released the bigger man. Only Buck's arms prevented the southerner from ending up sitting on the floor itself. "Okay, Pard, now, let's us get up." Buck climbed back up to his feet, pulling Ezra with him, rocking on his boot heels to try to get some circulation back in his feet. He didn't let the smaller man go and Ezra made no attempt to leave the circle of Buck's arms. "Hey, baby?" Buck tipped Ezra's head up with a hand cupping the smaller man's chin. "How about that bath now? We'll get you cleaned up, get all the filth of today off of you."

A flash of shame came and went in the southerner's eyes but he only nodded and looked down when his chin was released. Buck petted the dark head, his large hand stroking down over the soft hair, again and again. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

Eyes came up startled, questioning.

"Yep, proud." Buck smiled and touched his lips ever so gently to the other's forehead, a chaste loving touch. "It takes guts to go out nearly every day and do it undercover, without any back up nearby. Ez, you're the bravest man I know." Another small kiss, this time on that darlin' little nose. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today when you needed me."

The eyes changed to denial and indignation. "No, you couldn't have known." The voice was choked, tense.

"No, 'cause if I had, it wouldna happened." Buck planted a sweet kiss on one high cheekbone, then the other, tilting the head from side to side with his hand cupping that delectable chin. He hoped that these kisses conveyed his caring and admiration without scaring his friend. "But you survived it and you're still a'going. Ezra, it takes a lot to beat that kind of experience. I seen it before, when I was young and with my momma. Seen women so hurt, so battered, that they just plain gave up. Seen some, not a scratch to be seen, and they give up too. Others done like you, they didn't let it eat them alive. Kept on going, getting done what needed doing. Yep, you're a survivor, baby, and I'm so proud ta be your friend." One last kiss landed neatly back on the forehead.

Mesmerized by Buck's even, calm tone and deeply felt words, Ezra absorbed it all. He drank in the courage that Buck was returning to him with words and touch. He soaked in the loving touch and the sweet moniker that had appeared from nowhere. Baby. His baby. Ezra wanted to be anywhere else right now, as long as it was with Buck. A frisson of desolation stung him. Anywhere else, Buck wouldn't have the time of day to spare me. He's just doing this because he is a good friend and he knows I need it. Need him. Ezra swallowed and closed his eyes. Oh, god, how do I deal with all this? I just can't. I -- I just can't. Tears came then, soundless and flowing.

Buck watched the calming effect he was having on Ezra and then, something happened, and the man stiffened and a look of forlorn despair appeared. And tears. Tugging the man close again, he stood there and held his friend, letting his large hands talk now, big thumbs rubbing away the tears, then palms stroking and comforting as they moved up and down the tender body. He rested his face against Ezra's and could feel when the tears finally eased.

"Time to get you in the bath, Ez." He didn't attempt to find out what had so struck his friend that comfort had been insufficient to balance it. Instead he used his hands to encourage Ezra to unbutton his pants and push them down and away. Looking down at the clothing puddled around Ezra's ankles, he didn't see any blood and was thankful. He guided the man to step free of the entangling clothing. Buck kicked the stuff away savagely; it still smelt of sex, of that nightmarish assault that Ezra had endured. With a swift movement he bent down and hooked the rumpled mess, throwing it out into the front room, away from them. He'd deal with it later.

"Okay, now Ezra, can you climb into the tub?" He leaned over, not relinquishing his hold and tested the water. "It's nice and warm but not too hot." The slender body, nude now, was so precious that Buck had to forcibly restrain himself from acting on quickly rising desire. NOT what Ezra needed right now. He helped the southerner by providing an arm to hold as the smaller man slowly stepped over the deep porcelain wall of the tub and stood inside. "Now, let's get you down in this nice warm water." Together, Buck guiding and providing support, Ezra clumsily, stiffly settling into the water, they got rearranged, ending with a very wet Buck still fully clothed, and a very wet Ezra, equally unclothed. Neither commented on that.

"Is there any soap?" Ezra knew he sounded like a child but he couldn't seem to get himself back to normal yet. Washing away the invasive touches and the appalling assaults would go a long way toward regaining his sense of self, he knew this. He gratefully took the bar of white soap that Buck retrieved from the edge of the sink basin. Rubbed the slick lump between his hands and then began to soap himself. Buck helped, soaping his back and scrubbing it with the hand towel. Ezra reached out and grabbed a face towel hanging by the water handles and began to scrub as well. The more he scrubbed, the more he needed to scrub, until he was rubbing furiously at his skin, turning it red and raw. A hand came down and stilled his nearly hysterical movements.

"EZRA! STOP IT!"

Buck was nearly frantic. They'd started slowly, just lathering up Ezra's front and back, washing away the memories, he hoped. He'd become enchanted with the smooth, curved line of Ezra's spine and so didn't immediately notice when the no nonsense movement became frenetic. By the time he did, Ezra was close to abrading his skin on his stomach and mons, the groin looking nearly swollen from this new attack. He'd tried to stop the southerner's motions but words were not getting through. He'd had to start shouting as he finally captured the pawing hands and stopped their rough treatment.

Cautiously, Buck released Ezra's hands and then tugged them to the sides of the tub, molding them to the rims with his own hands. "Now you just lie back and let old Buck clean you. I promise, when I get done, there won't be one tiny speck left of what happened. Not one. Only, baby, we don't want to hurt you as we do it, so that's why you're gonna let me do it now."

As he explained his intention, Buck let his hands trail up from hands tensely clinging to the edges of the tub until his own hands had traced routes up and down shoulders to follow the ripple of ribs soft with fuzz, and then the concave curve of belly, ending at the nest of curling hair at the groin, framing a retreating shrunken shaft and loose balls slack in their flesh bag. Soap in one hand, he calmly and competently washed Ezra, at first with a clinical detachment that quickly dissolved into a more caring touch as he lathered and rinsed the genitals presented and finally moved southward, toward the abused flesh. Ezra tensed but didn't move or speak. When Buck's large hand moved the bar of soap over the man's pucker, Ezra began to whimper softly and shake. "Easy, baby. Just getting rid of those touches you don't want. Getting all that trash out and cleaned away. You're gonna be all new and clean and free of those slimes that did this to you. I promise, Ezra, I promise." As he chanted his reassurances, Buck worked at gently cleaning and soothing the insulted flesh. He cleaned up into the channel with one well-soaped finger, keeping his other hand firmly on Ezra's shoulder, to keep him settled.

Sliding his hand down Ezra's shoulder blade, he gradually worked his way down to the ass crack at the base of the spine. Passing the soap from front to back, he again thoroughly lathered and laved at the tender flesh, making sure that Ezra felt the soap rim his pucker, so he'd know that it was being cleaned. In front, Buck's other hand had withdrawn from the anus and was smearing lather into the nest of curls, then sifting it free of the bubbles with the tub water washing them away. "Okay, baby, now we're gonna set you up back up against the tub so I can do your legs." Buck practically lifted the waterborne body and eased it back against the back wall of the tub, encouraging the sturdy legs to stretch out in front. "That's right, that's good, now you just lie there and let old Buck do the rest. You're feeling so much cleaner already, soon, won't even be a bit of you that was ever touched by anyone you didn't want to touch you." Buck soaped up his hands and let them drift down the insides of Ezra's thighs, lathering and wiping, gently rubbing and massaging the long muscles that spasmed then relaxed beneath his touch.

He continued moving down, finally spending time massaging the small, perfect feet, his monologue never faltering as he moved. When he finally looked up the length of Ezra's sweetly pink, glowing body, he smiled. Ezra was sound asleep. The smile lost its joy, though as he noted that Ezra's hands still held on tightly to the tub, even in sleep. "Aw, Ez." Clambering to his feet again, he looked down at his own sodden pants, the knees soppy from overflow from the tub. At least the cut on his arm had gotten cleaned out during all that soaping and washing. Wasn't bleeding anymore either, so Buck decided not to even bandage it.

Watching, Buck waited to see if his friend would be alright for a moment in the tub without Buck's hands to hold him. Ezra seemed to stay without help, even as he softly snored. Okay then. Buck took up one of the two big bath towels and went out into the front room. Turned down the unburdened twin bed and laid out the towel. The other one, he left folded to the side.

Going back in, he studied Ezra for a moment. The man was so beautiful, why hadn't he ever noticed it before. He stepped forward carefully, a bit bowlegged from a raging hard-on that he was trying very hard to ignore. "Here we go, Ez." He slipped his arms beneath the smaller man and lifted him easily. Seems to get lighter with practice, Buck thought whimsically, thinking that this was the third time he'd carried the man in less than three days. Asleep or nearly so, ever' time, he smiled.

With newly practiced ease, he carried Ezra out into the main room of the cabin and placed him on the towel. Ezra didn't even open his eyes, nor did his softly heard snoring miss a beat. With affection and care, Buck toweled his sweet friend dry with the second bath towel, then pulled up the covers and proceeded to straighten the room.

A plastic laundry bag from Ezra's pack was the answer to the smelly, offensive clothing he'd removed from Ezra's body. Buck had also found the torn tee shirt that had been flung off in a corner of the room earlier in the day when -- when it happened. Buck picked up the shirt with distaste and added it to the plastic bag. Then he tucked the whole thing in the bottom of his own pack so that Ezra wouldn't accidentally run across it.

The room finally straightened, Wilmington went back into the bathroom and cleaned up in there, tossing his pants over the shower curtain rod above the tub, so they could begin to dry. A new pair, fished from his pack, went on. There was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to crawl into the other bed with Ezra and cuddle him close. It took a lot of resolve to simply sit beside him instead and run a hand comfortingly through that shining chestnut hair. Silken strands of reddish light seemed to flow between his fingers as he sat beside the man that he was beginning to think he loved. Buck watched over his friend. He hadn't lied when he said he was proud of Ezra. He was. Damn proud.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

The shadows began to lengthen as the afternoon marched on into evening. Fisher had been back with the secretary Kelly and his new second in command, Tyler Diggins. Diggins had actually been riding with Gent longer than Ivan but wasn't nearly as pushy. Ivan had come in handy on more than one occasion, to intimidate or harass, only this time, he'd gotten off the leash. A wild dog wasn't worth keeping, likely bite you next. So, now Ty was Gent's second. It wasn't a stretch for the close-mouthed man from North Dakota. Part Lakota, he had high cheekbones and jet-black hair worn long. He listened as Fisher spoke on the telephone with their buyer. The meet was set for tomorrow afternoon at an old airstrip north of the city.

"Go see if Wilson thinks Ezra can do some work tonight." Fisher rubbed his brow with one hand, fingering the rumpled paper with the armaments order in his other. It was the same paper that he'd shown to Schiller earlier in the day, before things had gone to shit. "Tell him that I want Ezra to do some work on the list I showed him. That we meet the buyers tomorrow and this time I want to be ready for them."

Diggins rose with an animal grace and started for the door. Holding the doorknob, he hesitated briefly. "And if Wilson says Ezra ain't ready?"

Gent sighed. Damn fool. That damn, dick-dragging fool. Good thing Portlach was dead or he'd have to kill him all over again. "Tell Wilson, if he needs it, Ezra can have until morning, but then, if they want to play with us, they gotta produce." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Tell him that even if Ezra can't come now, I'd like to talk with Wilson for a bit."

Diggins nodded understanding and departed, closing the door behind him. Fisher turned to the young woman who acted as secretary for his operation. "Kelly, go home. You've done enough for today."

The young woman who was carefully unopinionated and quiet, simply packed up her bag. She looked towards her boss. "Should I leave the computers on or off?"

"On."

She finished straightening up quickly and shouldering her bag, went out the back way to her car. She had passed scared and even petrified long ago. Now she just shut it all out. A job found by a long since dumped boyfriend, she had realistically decided to treat it as just a job. The fact that she helped get guns on the streets illegally and knew about murders such as the three that had occurred only a few hours ago was just life. Her life. And she knew that there was no way out.

She'd once considered going to the police -- until she saw what happened to a biker who'd turned state's evidence on a minor crime by two of the gang. The witness had been strangled with wire and left decorating his bike in the middle of a mall parking lot at midnight, to be found by security patrols the next morning. It had made the papers. Kelly kept quiet and did as she was told. Fisher was decent to her and no one touched her. She winced at that thought as she set the key in the ignition of her Dodge Shadow. They might not touch her, but they had touched poor Ezra Schiller today. From what she'd inadvertently heard, it had been bad. And now Ivan was dead and two more. She shook her head and pulled the car out from behind the end cabin and headed for the highway and home.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Ezra felt warm and rested, clean and comfortable. He stretched luxuriously and yawned without opening his eyes. Sniffing softly, he began to turn, wanting to bury his head deeper into the pillow beneath him. A dark jolt shot through him. Memories came slapping at him, confusing and scaring him. The gang, he was still with the gang. Ivan and some others, they'd tricked him into a cabin. Threw him on the floor. They had -- they had -- Ezra bit his lower lip and shuddered. He still hadn't opened his eyes but was pushing back the blanket covering him and trying to sit up. Buck had been there. After. Gent had been there, too. Buck. Buck had taken care of him. With that last thought, Ezra opened his eyes and stared around the dim room.

Buck Wilmington was sitting on the floor between the bed Ezra lay on and one other twin bed. The big man was slumped over, one long arm extended along the top of Ezra's bed. Buck's head rested there and he was asleep. The lush thatch of dark brown hair, almost black, shone in the poor lighting. Standish looked down at himself. Naked under the blanket. Then he remembered the bath, the care that Buck had taken, the softly spoken words of comfort and reassurance and -- love? Ezra leaned over and daringly drew his narrow fingers through the rich dark strands of hair. Like silk. He looks so tough, but his hair is so soft. Ezra smiled. He ever so cautiously touched a cheek. Rough stubble scraped his fingertip. He shrugged. Well, that was to be expected. Exploring further, he let his fingertip trace a line down the man's throat to his clavicle. Smooth skin there.

Buck was holding his breath and praying that he could hold it forever, not daring to breathe for fear of breaking the spell he felt encircled them. Ezra was awake and touching him. Sweetly, softly, tentatively. It was lovely and he wanted it to last forever.

The small southerner let his gaze drift from the man at his side to the room. This is where it happened. Harsh sounds, flashes of surreal images, ugly, grinning faces, grasping hands, close too close bodies, big powerful crude bodies. Pain and loathing. Flash. Grunting. Flash. Cloth tearing with a ripping sound. Flash. Hard pressure in his most private place. Heat unwanted, uninvited. Flash. Rage. Disgust. Shame. Ezra shuddered again, his questing fingers pulling back as he cringed against himself in the bed, becoming smaller still.

Wilmington sensed the retreat and took a breath. Pretending to just be waking, he ignored his friend and gave a mighty yawn, scratching at his chest and grimacing as he blinked his eyes open with exaggerated movements and groans. No surprises. Ezra wasn't ready for any surprises. Turning as if just now aware of Standish's proximity, Buck spoke with slurred sleepiness. It might be false but he had a feeling that Ezra wasn't up for noticing. Or would gratefully accept the lie. "Hey, Pard, that was a good nap. I feel better." He pushed himself up on to the other bed. "Woulda slept better though, if I'd kept myself on the bed instead of falling on the dang floor." He grinned good-naturedly at himself. There, Buck the fool back in action. Let normalcy reign!

By now Ezra had himself under control. He wasn't entirely sure whether Wilmington's waking was a fact or an act, but he was appreciative of the man's manner. It felt like being back with the team to see Buck so behave. Something seemed to snap back into place for him and Standish took a few short, hard breaths and looked at Buck. "Mr. Wilmington, have you seen my apparel by any chance?"

Buck twisted on the bed and lifted Ezra's pack, turning to place it on the southerner's bed across from him. "Here ya go. Toad brought our bike around earlier, so I brought in our packs."

Ezra was already delving into the pack and pulling out clean underwear and an almost clean tee shirt and jeans. Couldn't afford to look too good but this would feel so nice after -- Ezra let the soft cotton of the shirt slide through his hands. That's right, focus. "I shall be dressed momentarily." He pulled the shirt over his head, his shaggy hair popping through the neck as he continued, "Then we should see what's what. I can't imagine Fisher letting us stay here forever."

Too bad. Would like that. Buck didn't let himself dwell on those traitorous thoughts. "Sure, Pard. Figure it's --" he looked at his wristwatch, "'bout 4:30 now, likely we should show our faces again."

Ezra had quickly yanked up under shorts, almost ripping them in his haste to be covered. Buck made no comment. Shimmying, the smaller agent had his jeans up and zipped by the time Buck had come to his feet and started wandering toward the bathroom. "Buck? We can go check together." It was a statement but Buck could hear the question in it.

"We are doing everything together from now on, Ezra. I ain't letting you out of my sight again, Pard." Wilmington paused at the bathroom door, looking back and down at the other man. "I am truly sorry for what happened today, Ezra, I consider it my fault and I'll do whatever I can to see it doesn't happen ever again."

Standish came to his feet now and faced his friend and fellow agent. "Buck. It was NOT your fault, so just stop blaming yourself. We still have a job to do." Ezra buckled his belt and then looked up to meet his friend's eyes. "Regrets are a luxury that neither of us can afford. And, so you know, I shall keep you to your word. We do this together." Ezra felt his confidence return and flow with those final words. Yes, they could get this done. No looking back. That's all, no looking back.

Wilmington listened to the growing strength in Standish's voice. He could tell that Ezra was feeling better, more balanced, more in control again. A very fragile thing that control. Well, he'd guard it with his life. Ezra deserved that and so much more.

Buck wiped his hands on a towel and tossed it into the sink as he left the bathroom, noticing that Ezra had tidied away their things and was making a rather strange looking pile of what looked like clothing over by the door. "Ez?"

"This cabin belonged to Ivan. Since he will no longer need it, I just thought I'd get rid of the things that belonged to that --" Ezra stopped, then started again, "That belonged to that man." He dropped a leather satchel on top of the small heap. Wiped his hands on his jeans as if ridding them of vermin. In a way, he was.

"We'll toss that trash out, when we're ready to go." Buck strolled over to stand beside Ezra, not too close. "Figure we better --"

A knock at the door interrupted him. "Hey, Wilson, you in there?"

Ezra recognized Tyler Diggins' voice. He nodded to Buck. Wilmington pulled the bolt back and opened the door. "Yeah?"

A tall, dark haired man, looking very Native American, stood in the dirt in front of the small cabin. "Gent said he'd like Ezra to come over and do some work, if he's up for it. We got a meet set for tomorrow."

Buck glanced over his shoulder at Ezra, quirking one eyebrow in question. Received an affirmative nod.

"Sure. Where?"

Diggins pointed toward the end cabin. "At the office. Said to tell you that he wanted to talk to you, too."

Wilmington didn't answer, just nodded, waiting for his partner to emerge from their cabin into the light of the setting sun. Ezra stepped out of the doorway and the rays of a dying sun caught his hair and turned it to a molten reddish gold, shining like precious metal. His eyes gleamed a deep forest green, reflecting the darker colors of evening, even as the skin of his face and exposed arms seemed to burnish in the warm pinky-orange light. Buck caught his breath and once again was lost to the beauty of this petite, slender being. How had he ever thought a woman could compete? Grace? Style? Sheer charisma? All Ezra. Oh, my, yes. His Ezra was beauty walking.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

They worked for almost three hours. Ezra went over the lists of inventory, pointing out lack of manufacturer's dates, making the lists less useful to would-be buyers. They did have serial numbers though, and Buck watched as Ezra's nimble fingers demonstrated just how computer-literate he was. Damn, JD don't know this Ezra. Think he hides it on purpose, ta give the kid a boost in the office. Buck mentally shook his head as Ezra skillfully sought out Internet resources and hidden troves of information, hacking through layers of federal and state firewalls with ease. By the time the southerner sat back, he had the source of every piece on the inventory and locations for ammunition that would be required for these pieces. Hell, Ezra'd even printed out a top-secret instruction manual for the Stinger missiles.

Gent had watched for a short time, then Diggins had shown up. Fisher left Ty with the others. He knew that anything that happened, he'd know through Diggins, no need to hang around. Diggins had with him two younger bikers, both serious and intent on watching Schiller. Introduced as Parfey and McCoy, the two were clearly familiar with computers. Buck enjoyed watching their eyes widen as Ezra's fingers danced over the keys of two computers.

Ezra was perched on a swivel stool between the machines, running two different searches at once, orchestrating his movements without missing a beat -- until Buck stood up to stretch. Wilmington thought to move to the other side of the office and share a coffee from the drip-maker there with Ty Diggins who was silently observing everything without intrusion. Only, the moment Buck rose, Ezra's even paced and meticulous actions began to slow to a jerky, almost panicked stop. He'd laid his hands in his lap, folded them, and sat back. "Buck?" Big green eyes flashed in momentary fear. Wilmington sat down again. Coffee could wait. "Right here, Ez, just stretching is all. I'm right here."

Neither Parfey nor McCoy seemed to notice the short little scene, both trying to take notes without success as Ezra had blasted yet another firewall into shards of electronic mumbo-jumbo. They were standing, shoulder to shoulder behind the undercover agent, one facing each of Ezra's two running screens. The momentary hesitation simply gave them a chance to try to catch up, no time to notice. Ezra straightened on the stool, staring hard at Wilmington for a second as if fixing the man in his memory, then averted his gaze to his screens again. Hands came up and fingers once more danced.

Buck, now calmly sitting stretched out on the other side of the central desk, put his feet up on the surface, planting himself even more firmly in Ezra's field of vision. If you need me here, then that's where I aim to be. He started a bit when a cup of coffee appeared in front of his face. Looked up and met dark brown eyes that were shuttered and blank. The coffee that Ty Diggins was proffering though, was a godsend. Buck accepted it with a small smile, his attention turning back to Standish almost instantly.

Diggins watched it all. He could see that their two young biker hackers were enthralled by Schiller's skills. Looks like Fisher found a good'un there. He was also convinced of the pairing with Wilson, there was a lot of emotional support going on just now. The big man was projecting safety and protection. Not a bad partnership. He'd heard what happened, had been out on the road at the time. Wouldn't miss Ivan. Damn blackguard had been too quick off the mark, too much a low-life.

Ty and Gent went back a ways. Far enough so he knew that Fisher and he could work this, without Portlach. Especially if Wilson turned out to be as valuable as Toad said. The little man had reported that Wilson was able to ID all the stuff they had cached in the old hangar and had even made some suggestions for safer storage of one item. Ty wondered why he was still nervous about Ezra's friend. Moving closer after seeing Wilson's aborted attempt to get coffee, he brought the man a cup, hoping to get some conversation going. Not that he was any great shakes at that, but after a simple acknowledgement, Wilson had turned his attention back totally to Schiller. And, Schiller was clearly dependent on Wilson now, so maybe they owed Ivan something after all. The two seemed to have bonded closer because of Portlach's attack. Were almost linked somehow. Likely if Gent needed one to do something, all they'd have to do was threaten the other. Hostages for each other. Useful knowledge. Ty went back to his corner and sipped at a new cup of coffee.

"That's it." Standish sat back and raised his eyes to meet the dark brown ones of Ty Diggins. "That's all I can do until we meet the buyers and see exactly what they want and how much they're willing to pay for it."

Ty nodded, putting down his coffee mug and walking over to accept the sheaf of printouts that Ezra was offering. Both men ignored the young bikers behind Schiller. Diggins thumbed through the stuff, impressed in spite of himself. Yeah, this guy was gonna be gold for them. "You want to give these to Gent?" he offered.

But Ezra was already shaking his head, flicking switches that turned off the gallery of computers and rising to his feet, edging toward Wilson. "No, you go ahead."

"Okay, then," Ty said slowly, "How about coming back to the bar and getting some dinner? Gent can look these over, he have any questions, he'll know who to ask."

Buck dropped his feet to the floor and stood in that loose, fluid movement that was one of his hallmarks. He was circling the desk and slipping behind Schiller as the two men spoke to each other. When the dinner offer was made, he was ready. "Sounds good, Ezra. You gotta be tired now, ready for some grub."

Standish, who'd pushed away the stool as he stood, now leaned back against Buck who'd come up behind him. This is so nice. To be able to touch like this, to know it was not only understood but expected, it was so very nice. He cricked his neck up and around to look up into Buck's face, only to find two warm blue eyes crinkling back down at him. Buck's hands were already holding his arms in a familiar fashion that warmed Ezra's whole being. He smiled at the smile in Buck's eyes. "I could eat," he admitted. Somehow the words took on an intimate and hidden meaning that had Buck's eyes glazing over hotly and Ezra immediately turning bright red as he seemed to realize what he'd just said, done. He whipped his head around to face a knowing look on Ty's face. Damn it, what does he think he knows? If only it was really true. Ezra wiggled his butt experimentally against the tall man pressed so closely behind him. There was a definite jump in the bigger man. Then hot moist air was brushing one of Ezra's ears as Buck leaned down to caution, "Ez, behave now." The fingers gently massaging his arms let him know that Buck wasn't rejecting him, just keeping him grounded. Probably a good thing. Probably.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Chris was still reading the paper when Vin arrived late after coaching a pick up basketball game with his street kids. They'd had their normal, quiet low-key evening after that, getting chores done around the ranch, fixing, eating and cleaning up dinner. Discussing the current case and some cases pending court dates. One had Vin up for testimony. There was a seminar on leadership, Chris had cringed at that one, that he'd have to attend. Neither liked to be away from the other for too long, but they were adjusting as any couple would, once a long-term commitment was made.

Vin was the one who brought up the drop for tomorrow. Figuring that with Ezra going in deep now, with Buck in tow, that they might be closely watched, the team had come up with a simple plan. Vin would start taking a route past the Hot Run each day, morning and night, in his old jeep. He'd 'adjust' it for maximum noise from the muffler and engine. Be noticeable that way, remembered. He'd start pulling in for gas. Make a fuss about losing oil and constantly needing more. It meant he'd have to drain oil once or twice a day, but it gave them a convincing story line for Vin to keep showing up. Ezra and Buck would know that Vin would stop at the diesel stop each morning early and again in late afternoon. He'd be standing around for a bit, going into the bar for coffee, too. Plenty of opportunities for a handoff, or if it got too difficult, they could leave a drop in the men's room off the mechanic's building next to the pumps. So, Vin was due for his first run in the morning.

"All set with the jeep?" Chris' tone let Vin know that he was worried about the two missing men.

"Yep. I'll drain off the oil just before I leave, no point in doing it to soon, not good for my machine." Vin sat down on the couch next to Chris, leaned into the other man's body, accepting the encircling arms as his right. "You got any special reason to be worried this time?" Vin asked as he rested his head on the blonde's shoulder. No point beating around the bush, Chris knew Vin too well, and vice-versa.

Chris bent his head down to plant a kiss on the crown of soft, shining brown hair. "Not really. Just that Ezra didn't go under at a hundred percent."

Vin closed his eyes in memory of what he had learned in the conference room the day before, and then privately from Chris that night. There had been no emergency calls, no signals for help today. Have to hope all went well. Both Buck and Ez are big boys. But. "Got a feelin'?"

Chris sighed. "Yeah." He ran one hand up and down the arm he was encircling, nuzzled into that mass of wonderful tangles. Murmured against a hidden ear, "Yeah. Not a good one. So you be careful tomorrow, too. Watch yourself."

"Always have."

"Um. Pay attention to Ezra and Buck if you see them. To the rest, if you don't. Look for their bike, too."

Vin nodded against Larabee's chin. "Intended to."

"Sorry." Chris let his chagrin be heard. "Didn't mean to tell you your job, it's just that --"

"You're worried." Vin turned in Chris' arms and pulled the man down on top of him. "Now you got me worried too, so I'll be extra, extra careful. Promise."

"Um." Conversation stopped at that point, though sounds continued for sometime.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

More bikers had arrived as the evening gathered darkness, filling the bar and the cafe tables, drinking, playing cards and pool, eating from baskets of fried chicken or fried potatoes or ribs dripping in barbeque sauce. No one seemed to be worried about lack of tablecloths or silverware. Bottles and cans of beer littered the tables.

Ezra and Buck followed Ty into the bar from the back. Their entrance seemed to go unremarked but a back table cleared when Ty approached and then offered it to the agents. One of the bar maids appeared within seconds to take their orders. Ezra had shaken his head, but Buck ordered the fries and chicken for both of them, asking for imported beer and a bottle of bourbon. He covered Ezra's smaller hands with one of his on the tabletop and shifted his chair around so that they sat side by side.

Ezra wasn't sure whether he was glad that Buck was being so assertive or not. He was doing the right things for their undercover roles, but since Ezra was beginning to want this for real, it was hard to take it knowing it was all an act. He sat stiffly and tried to relax, knowing if he didn't he'd call attention to them and not in a good way.

Buck felt the tension in his partner. Figured Ezra was feeling a bit claustrophobic at the moment, surrounded as they were by bikers of the same ilk as had hurt Ezra earlier that day. He lifted his hand from Ezra's, saw the southerner's questioning look, but simply raised his arm up and around the gentleman's shoulders, tugging him even closer. He carefully placed his lips on Ezra's forehead and kissed him softly, letting his lips linger to taste the sweet salty skin they were pressed against.

A tingle of anticipation ran through him. They'd have tonight together in that cabin. Just the two of them. If he was going to go anywhere at all with Ezra, he was going to start tonight. If he waited for the end of the case, Ezra would be able to retreat too easily. Buck gave a sigh of his own. Things had changed. Really, profoundly changed for him. He wanted Ezra in a way he'd never even thought about wanting before. He wanted Ezra like he'd never thought he'd ever want any man, like he had always figured he'd someday want some special woman when he found her. Well, he'd found his someone special. Who knew it would be a man? Or that it would be a friend and not someone new at all? That it would be Ezra P. Standish?

He let his tongue poke out between his lips to lick a tiny patch of skin on Ezra's forehead, never moving his head from his position against the smaller man. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ezra's hands begin to fidget again. With his free hand, he captured those and pulled them off the table and down onto Ezra's thigh.

"Buuuck." It was an almost painful sigh, a plea.

Good, getting through to him. Buck smiled against Ezra's temple and licked again, squeezing the shoulders of the man and rubbing up against them with his own. Ezra capitulated with another sigh that was almost a moan, melting against Buck, losing all tension in the process. "That's my boy." Buck trailed kisses down the wrinkled brow and along the finely bridged nose. With a lick at the tip, he pulled back and smiled at his prize.

Ezra couldn't fight it, couldn't fight Buck. He's going too far. He knows what he's doing, but does he mean it? Ezra wondered helplessly, lost in those strong arms, those proprietal lips. He risked a glance around the room from under hooded lids. No one was paying special attention to them. He spotted Gent Fisher and Ty Diggins at the far corner table, some other men standing nearby with their backs to the leader and his second. Like bodyguards. Ezra could see they were going over the paperwork he'd just produced. He knew it was faultless. They'll figure it out. He looked around again, curiously, his head tilted up against Buck's warm chest, nestled there in sweet surrender. He'd never been at the Hot Run at night, made it a point to disappear before sunset. So this was a first. He was seeing a lot more gang members, many he knew but seldom saw.

Buck recognized Ezra's softened position and relaxation. He stopped trying to push and just held on, providing an anchor and a secure port. He could see that Ezra was back in agent mode, assessing the room and its occupants. It didn't take long to figure out that they were under the protection of Fisher. It showed in the subtle ripples of movement around them, never challenging them. The stolen glances that conveyed nothing but set his antenna on alert. Nope, not a real safe place this. He'd be glad when the bust went down and he could get Ezra away from here, from these men, and to himself. They had a lot of issues to settle between them and Buck intended to see that it happened. He was glad to know that Chris and Vin already had such a partnership, it made it much easier to look ahead to forming a similar one with Ezra. Buck pulled himself up short mentally. Whoa, Pard, got to factor Ez into this equation too. Haven't even made sure this is something he wants. Think he likes it. Already know he likes men. He likes me. I know he likes me. Could he like me *that* way? Buck worried at his lip, resting his head on the coppery hair under his chin. Well, if he doesn't yet, I'll just have to work hard to make him change his mind until he does. Buck let his lip go, resolution reached and relaxed himself.

Ezra watched wide-eyed as an enormous basket of fries and a similar one of fried chicken were dropped on to the table in front of them. This was followed by the thump of beer bottles, a liquor bottle and some shot glasses. Two small paper napkins fluttered down among the array of food and drink. He shuddered and tried to withdraw only to find the arm holding him tighten and prevent his retreat. "You are going to eat some of this, Ezra, or," Buck paused as surprised green eyes sought his. Meeting them, he finished, "Or, I'll feed you myself."

A flame of rebellion flickered to life in the green glare. Even better. Man is feeling himself if he's ready to argue. Before the argument could get underway, however, Ty was standing over them. "Just got your food, I see." He pulled out a chair and sat. "Gent will be over in a minute. Has some questions for both of you."

Buck watched Ezra's eyes cool and darken into uncommunicative shutters, his poker face sliding into place. "We will do what we can to answer them," he responded without posturing.

Ezra had already read Ty Diggins and knew how to play him, Buck realized comfortably. He'd follow Ezra's lead. Man was a master. "Sure, that's why we're here."

Rather than wait for Ezra to start on the food, Buck picked up a thigh and peeled back the greasy skin, revealing the moist dark meat beneath. Picking free a morsel, he brought it to Ezra's lips and tickled with it. The dusky lips parted and accepted the offering with a canted eyebrow. Buck let his fingers follow the bit of muscle and flesh into the cavern, felt Ezra's teeth delicately nibble at his fingertips, his tongue lick them clean as Ezra pulled the bit of meat free and chewed it slowly, swallowing with a show of extra effort. Buck grinned as he slowly withdrew his fingers.

Ty watched in almost fascination as Wilson hand fed Schiller with select bits of skinless chicken and single French fried potato strips. He shifted in his seat. His damn pants were growing too tight he acknowledged as Ezra's tongue emerged to curl around one of Buck's fingers and lap it clean. By the time Gent finally lowered himself onto the fourth chair at the table, Schiller had consumed nearly two full pieces of chicken, minus the skin, and a handful of fries. Wilson had been feeding himself, almost automatically, with his other hand, so he too had eaten. Ty had stopped watching them after the first piece of chicken. It was simply raising the temperature too much in here. Man, they had it bad for each other.

Fisher had observed from a distance as he spoke with several of his wing commanders. They were going to organize a full Hawk appearance for tomorrow's run and the meet. The buyers would be there and sample merchandize would be secreted in the trailers pulled by two trikes owned by gang members. Now, he needed to organize the negotiating team. A team he was just forming to try to counter the buyers' onslaught of conniving and chiseling tactics. A team that would include Ezra Schiller and Buck Wilson, his two newest recruits to the command center of the Hawks. They just didn't know it yet. Time to tell them.

Fisher sat down, nudging Ty with a foot to a chair leg, as he sat. Ty seemed a bit preoccupied, Gent thought with a private, knowing smile. These two were really hot stuff. 'Course the I-Man may have had something to do with the blatancy with which they were now acting. Didn't matter to Gent, long as he got what he wanted.

Buck let Ezra push away the food baskets. Wilmington poured a shot of Bourbon for each of them and offered soundlessly to Ty and Gent. Both accepted shot glasses full. With a nod to Ezra, Buck raised his glass in a toast. "To good times."

Gent raised his. "To tomorrow."

Ezra raised an eyebrow and his glass. "Tomorrow would be --?"

"Our meet with the buyers. Try to settle on price and delivery." Fisher downed his drink, the others at the table doing likewise. "Want you two to be there, with me and Ty." Gent pushed his empty glass around on the greasy table. "Ezra, you're going to help me pin them down to prices we can live with, and your papers are our ammo." He turned toward Buck. "Wilson, I want you to be with Ty. Want you ready to show the samples, answer questions. From what Toad tells me, you can do that. We tell them you were a Seal and we got it made." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "You two good with that?"

Ezra spoke for both of them. "That'll work. You won't regret this, Gent."

Fisher cocked his head at the smaller man. "See that I don't."

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Buck stood up and pulled out Ezra's chair so he could stand as well. Ty and Gent were already moving away, back toward their obviously regular table near the bar. They'd probably hold court for a while yet, but Buck figured that he and Ezra could safely slip out for the night now. Once Standish was standing, Buck nodded toward the back door. They'd been given to understand that they could keep the cabin until the deal was finalized and the deliveries made. Heading there now was the best bet for getting out of the eye of the gang.

Ezra led the way, weaving between tables and staggering men, the few women mostly wrapped in their men or huddled at a table near the back door. As Ezra approached he saw one of the women, a peroxide blonde with diamond studs in her nose waylay Buck, who was just behind him. Ezra wasn't too happy about this but was not ready to make a scene here. It was too public and too uncertain. The woman put a hand on Buck's arm and began talking to him, her body language seemed to be offering something. He could see her in three-quarter's view, and she was a beauty, curvaceous and smiling. Young and pretty. Buck's usual kind of find. Standish could not hear what she was saying in a light undertone, but he stiffened angrily when she pulled back her leather jacket to show off her undershirt to Wilmington. Buck, unaware of Ezra's scrutiny, smiled down at her appreciatively and nodded, leaned in close and spoke seriously to her. She seemed a bit surprised but shrugged and nodded. Buck repeated something, his mouth close to her ear as the sound swelled in the room and Ezra's heart plummeted. How could I ever have thought it was anything but an act? Stupid with my feelings, stupid with my heart. Buck is a ladies man, I know that, I've always known that. Head down, Ezra turned back toward the door and the way out, only to run directly into a human wall.

"Hey short-stuff, lookin' for a good time?" the inebriated drawl of the huge biker with an enormous beer belly and shaven head had Ezra bicycling backwards, holding on to his poker face and nerves with effort.

"No, thank you." Ezra knew what he'd normally do in a gay bar to someone who pushed unwelcome advances, but he did not want to stir the waters any further today. Too much depended on staying on the good side of Gent and now Ty. He craned his head up toward the giant. "I came with someone else."

"And he's goin' to leave with the same person." Buck's firm voice came from behind Ezra. Hands came down on Ezra's shoulders and he felt relief that warred with betrayal, almost hidden beneath the fear that had surged up at this latest accosting. Wilmington did not challenge this time, nothing too harsh, just making it clear that the small southerner was private property.

The huge man facing them laughed and threw an arm around one of the shrewish looking women standing near him. "Fine, you got your meat, I'll go find me some other." He swung away from them, already pawing at the wriggling woman who seemed more amused than upset.

Ezra hated himself. He was shaking again. He wiped a hand across his face and then nearly stumbled when Buck pushed him lightly from behind. "Ezra, let's get out of here." His sentiments exactly. Standish moved on to the door and through it, very conscious of the two large hands that never left his shoulders.

Buck was very aware of the trembling man in front of him and he wanted Ezra away from any more confrontations, now. He guided his friend out into the cool night air and across the empty parking lot, save for his bike, to the small cabin. They climbed the steps silently, Ezra pulling free from Buck's hold as they went up to the small porch. Inside, Standish hit the room light switch and Buck started to close the door. He eyed the pile of things belonging to Ivan by the door. It was a moment's work to heave them out onto the side of the porch. That done, Buck closed and locked the door.

When he turned to face the room it was to see Ezra standing there, facing him, face cold and closed, as he unfastened his jeans and let them drop. What's wrong? What did I do? Buck shifted from foot to foot, watching his partner pull back the covers on one twin bed and slip inside, already turning so that only the back of one tee-shirt clad shoulder and a head of reddish brown hair showed above those covers.

"Good night, Buck." The words sounded stilted. Buck closed his eyes. Something had happened. What? Think dammit! Ezra wasn't acting like this before. Even out there at the table in the bar, he'd finally relaxed, seemed comfortable with their touching, closeness. Now what?

Wilmington walked slowly over to the other bed and sat down, the springs creaking slightly under his weight. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, wrists dangling as he studied the reclining back of his friend. He tried to replay the last few minutes. That big ugly biker had cut into their path. Clearly Ezra was upset about that, but Buck had backed the man off and hustled Ezra out. He might still be shaking about that but this behavior was more an angry Ezra than a scared one.

Why was he angry? Well, they'd gotten up, started for the rear exit, Ezra leading. Jeanie had stopped Buck to introduce herself and make an offer. He was actually rather tickled by the offer. He -- wait a minute. The girl, Jeanie. Oh yeah. Shit, what had Ezra seen and heard and what had he just figured out? What dots did he connect? Buck had a feeling, the wrong ones.

"Ezra P. Standish." Buck was pleased at the way the southerner's body jumped at the sharp tone. "You turn over right now, we have some talking to do and I ain't putting up with any pouting!" Yep, that ought to do it. He waited as the small blanket covered lump stiffened and then rolled over angrily, two light, almost white, green eyes slicing through him coldly.

"What did you wish to discuss, Mr. Wilmington?" Oh, boy we got a far piece to cover Buck thought with amusement.

"Ezra, I have a surprise for you." Both eyebrows rose but no comment was forthcoming. "Jeanie, the girl who stopped me when we were leavin'?" At Ezra's jerky nod, Buck continued as if blithely unaware of the effect all this was having on his conflicted friend. "She made me an offer."

The coldness left the green eyes. Drained out of them and the color changed, from almost white to soft, moist moss. The eyebrows came back down and a defeated slump seemed to envelop the small man. Ezra tugged the blanket up tight under his chin with two fists, trying to protect himself, cover himself, force the tears to stay inside. Why is Buck doing this to me? What an act he has been putting on, he really conned the con man this time. Is he really so oblivious? The firm line of Ezra's mouth trembled and the lower lip was sucked in, to be chewed slowly.

Buck saw what his words had done. He'd meant to tease, forgetting that Ezra probably was not yet aware of how much Buck himself had changed, his attitude and his desires. Remorsefully, Buck dropped to his knees on the floor between the beds, capturing the blanket-covered fists in his own large hands, holding them tightly so there'd be no escape before he was done. "She offered to make us some patches."

Confusion. Ezra realized he'd been holding his breath and let it out in a woof of bewilderment. This was all about 'patches?' What? He tried to pull back, distance himself from Buck's sudden proximity but the big man would have none of it, holding on firmly.

"Property patches." Buck tilted his head to the side, figuring even after a month undercover, Ezra might not be fully conversant with all the biker idioms and slang. As an old biker himself, he'd known what the girl meant right away. "If a woman belongs to a biker, then she's his bitch. If they want to be exclusive, one way to show it is for the woman to wear a property patch. Just a patch sewn on her clothing, says she's the property of whoever she's hanging with. Some even get it tattooed."

"I don't understand. She wants to wear yours?" Ezra's voice was soft and low, the words small.

"No, Ezra, she wanted to make you one to wear for me. She'd heard about what happened today."

"For me?"

Buck smiled at the blush now rising on the pale features of the southerner. "Yeah, Ez, for you. Sayin' you're my property. Buck's Property."

"What did you tell her?"

"Well, after she showed me hers, she's the property of someone named Jimbo, I said I'd pay her for two."

"Two?"

"Yeah. The other one is gonna say Ezra's Property."

The fisted hands relaxed and dropped to the smaller man's lap as he struggled to sit up in the narrow bed. "Really?" Ezra knew he sounded like a little kid but he couldn't help himself.

"Really." Buck gently squeezed the limp hands under his and smiled a bit more. "She'll have them ready tomorrow. Seems to be pretty easy thing to do."

"And, you'll wear one?"

"Yeah," Buck pulled himself up onto Ezra's bed and sat facing the smaller man. "If you'll wear the other."

A white face, with eyes so green they shown like stars, blazed up at Buck, taking his breath away with the intensity revealed. "Yes." The whispered answer touched someplace deep inside of Buck and he knew that another question was being answered, a deeper more basic question. Time stood still for them then as their eyes burned into each other. Then Buck moved slowly, infinitesimally slowly closer to Ezra, watching to see if he should stop.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

John Dunne was thinking. Nestled in bed with his sweetheart, Casey Wells, who was sleeping soundly, he lay staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. It wasn't often that he and Casey got to spend a night together, much as they loved it. They were planning on marrying after she graduated from college and she was in her senior year now. They hadn't told anyone yet. Not Casey's aunt Nettie, not Buck, JD's best friend. That was one of the reasons they didn't often get to do this. It raised questions they just didn't want to answer.

Besides, JD felt very private and protective about Casey, and much as he loved Buck as a friend and almost brother, to sleep together in the same apartment as Buck just didn't seem right. At least, not until it was official with nuptials. He kissed Casey's brow and she sighed and curled closer inside his arms, not waking. While Buck was undercover, Casey came over to stay.

He'd have to tell Buck soon. Tell him that he was moving out, going to find his own place, well, actually a place for him and Casey. He smiled at that thought. Then frowned, he didn't want to hurt Buck's feelings and he had begun to think that Buck depended on him. It hadn't started out that way. He'd been a green recruit, a rookie stolen out of a think tank in Massachusetts. He'd loved his new life with the ATF but it took some getting used to and he'd still been grieving the long and painful loss of his mother. Buck had taken him in under his wing, put him up on the sofa of Buck's small apartment. When they saw that they got along well, they had pooled resources for a bigger shared apartment with four bedrooms. One became a guest room, one JD's computer room, and they each had their own bedroom. It had worked well for over a year and a half now. But things were changing.

Funny, when he thought about it, even though he couldn't bring himself to have Casey over for a night, Buck had no qualms on subjecting JD to a long stream of one night female guests. The man picked all sorts, all sweet and all looking for fun with the tall, sexy man. None ever stayed, and if any were looking for a commitment, they soon gave up. Buck loved women, not a woman. That thought led to another. Chris was a widower. And, now it seemed, in a gay relationship of long standing, though very private, with Vin Tanner another team member. JD had always looked up to Chris Larabee, he was like a hero to the younger man. This new aspect of Larabee hadn't tarnished the hero's image at all. Not sure why not, except I like Vin so much and admire him so much, too. Maybe that's why.

JD used his free hand to scratch his nose, then started stroking Casey's closest arm gently and his thoughts continued to wander freely. And Vin? Well, he said it was a first time for him with Chris, but he was such a loner that whatever his preferences, it was a wonder he'd finally opened up enough for anyone, even Chris, to get inside and make a connection. JD was happy for him, for them.

Josiah was a widower too, who now found his simple pleasures in helping others and in his own strange conglomeration of faith and religions. Nathan had had a long time affair with Rain and now they were engaged and telling the world about it. He and Casey might even see them privately to discuss a double wedding. You never knew, it might work. Nate, Josiah, Vin, Chris.

Ezra was always an enigma to JD. Their undercover agent tended to be very private indeed. The revelation of his gayness had been a bit of a shock to the unknowing members of the team. We all like and respect Ez, though, so it was alright, JD thought. But Ezra really was gay, not just a one-shot, one-time love of his life like Chris and Vin whose friendship had mutated into a love pairing. No, Ezra liked men. JD moved uncomfortably for a moment. Ezra had never in any way given any sign in the office or out on the job, until this last one, when it became part of the job. He 'shopped' elsewhere. Well, JD was okay with that. He rubbed his nose again and then returned to his repetitive stroking of Casey's arm. She sighed again but didn't wake. He gathered from the looks and hints from Nathan and Chris that life hadn't been easy for Ezra in his own private world lately. He hadn't looked good and he hadn't acted normally at the conference or before in the confrontation in Chris' office.

Nate, Josiah, Vin, Chris, Ezra. Buck. JD arched his back a bit and turned toward Casey's warm body, letting his lips come to rest on her shoulder. Buck. Never married. Never intended as far as JD knew. Never in love, just in lust. Always flirting, always having fun, enjoying the fairer sex as he referred to women. Was he hiding something? Naw, not Buck. But, he'd never found someone special. Hope he'll be okay when I leave to be with Casey. JD found himself worrying about this. Buck's a big boy. But, somehow, JD had over time seen the underside of Buck's worldly bonhomie and realized the man was very hollow within, lonely and without self-confidence, always in need of reassurance and friendships to bolster his self-image. Buck helped others to define himself, JD decided sadly. Poor Buck. Maybe I should make it my mission to find the right lady for Buck. I think once he's got someone, he'll be fine. With that hopeful thought, JD snuggled closer to Casey who finally began to stir. "JD?" came the soft questioning sleep-slurred voice.

"Yeah, Case, I'm here. Love you."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Buck leaned closer. He moved very, very slowly. Like stalking a butterfly, want to touch it, not crush it or cause it to flit off. He let his breath wash over Ezra's face but still didn't touch. The misty green eyes that held his were deep and open, daring to reveal a hesitant heart, a questioning, unsure spirit. Oh, Ez, I love you, Buck thought and smiled, his smile slow too.

He brought up one hand and delicately caressed the tiny crow's-feet lines by the corner of one of those mystic eyes. Neither spoke. Buck tilted his head and let his eyes roam down to soft, dark lips, small and half-parted, with just the tiniest glimpse of white teeth within. As he studied the lips with such fascination, the tip of Ezra's tongue emerged to moisten the lower lip. Pink and curling, it was endearing. With his other hand, Buck touched Ezra's temple on the other side. He began a tender massage with just the tips of the first two fingers of each hand, no pressure, just feather-weight touches skimming the smooth skin, brushing back into the so soft, glossy chestnut hair, curls of which separated and clung to his fingers.

Ezra's chin lifted and those fascinating lips drew closer still. Buck continued to breath across Ezra's face, warm and moist, touching him with his essence. Two small hands came up to begin exploring, mapping Buck's face in turn. Finger combing the lush dark mustache, nails currying the bristles that were heavier, coarser than the scalp hair, except at the ends of the mustache where longer hairs curled down almost into his mouth leaving with a softer feel.

Buck opened his mouth in invitation but the fingers were moving upward, tracing creases and folds in the texture of his skin, finding the worry lines near his mouth, the pouches that sometimes thickened under his eyes, the deeper crows-feet from years out of doors, and the deep lines that lay in wait above the dark wings of eyebrow. Buck had closed his eyes by now and reduced his world to the touches of his fingers on Ezra's temples and Ezra's touches wafting across his face.

Buck was lost and he knew it. This is real. This is the forever kind of love. He'd seen it between Chris and Sarah. Even between Chris and Vin, Nate and Rain, JD and Casey. Envied them all. Now it was his. And it was wonderful. He could feel himself grow hard and hot but that was something separate from this incredibly intense intimacy that he was sharing with Ezra. The body's desires, needs, could wait. They were tending their souls just now. The garden of the soul needs much nourishment and he instinctively knew that both he and Ezra had had droughts in their gardens for far too long. They didn't need any sudden rainstorm, they needed slow, steady drenching, burrowing rains that would penetrate deeply and give rebirth to hope within. Let the seeds of love be planted now. We'll tend them with care and patience. Buck smiled again at his whimsical, almost poetic thoughts. They were truer, though, than any baser 'natural' inclinations. He and Ezra needed each other at a level so deep and so core to the bone that it was painful. He just knew it was mutual, nothing that rang this true could be one-sided.

Ezra was studying Buck's face as if it were unchartered territory in need of careful mapping. He paced its surface with the faintest touch of fingertip to skin and hair. He marveled in the variety of textures he discovered on his voyage, he reveled in the freedom to do this and to bury his yearnings for someone to love in this man. From far away, he felt Buck's fingers rubbing light circles at his temples, a soothing counterpoint to his own light touches on Buck. He was touching Buck. He felt light-headed with an effervescent joy. He couldn't quite believe that it was so. As if drawn to them by magnets, finally his eyes came to rest in the dark blue circles that were Buck's. He found peace there, he found affection and concern, he found friendship, and he found something more. Something he'd never really hoped to find anywhere. He found love. That he recognized it at a soul-deep level told him that it was real and to trust it, to trust Buck. Lost in those eyes, Ezra let out a tiny moan of need.

Buck was held in the emerald gaze, trapped for a lifetime in that sweet soul searching. He felt Ezra's hands still finally. He mirrored the pause with his own. For a timeless instant, they two were poised over a peak neither had ever hoped to climb but now soared above. Hands dropped away and they were moving toward each other as if drawn by the connections of souls binding.

Then they kissed.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

At first, it was a simple, tentative pressing of lips together, but Buck found himself irresistibly drawn to deepening the kiss. Like their first kiss only that morning, oh god, was it only that morning? It took on a life of its own, moving both men to surge towards each other as if once the fire was lit it burned too brightly to simply be banked by human control. With reverence, his long arms came up to surround and cocoon this precious man within his embrace, his head tipping as his mouth opened and consumed the smaller one. When those lips opened against his, Buck's tongue snaked within to charm and explore, meeting a welcoming muscular twin that lapped eagerly at his.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Buck pulled Ezra even tighter. The small southerner's hands were gripping Buck's tee shirt and twisting the material in tight fists, drawing Wilmington yet closer still. Short panting sounds from Ezra seemed to only make Buck intent on securing the man tightly against him. With a swift, twisting motion of his long, limber body, Wilmington took both of them from facing each other to a position half-lying, half-sitting against the headboard of the narrow bed, with Ezra cuddled sweetly against his chest, shoulder buried in the hollow between Buck's chest and arm. Never did their lips separate, as if they had somehow become one.

Ezra savored the taste of Buck's mouth, feeling the scratch and tickle of the mustache, which seemed to only make him feel more welcome, more protected by the very maleness of his companion. He wasn't ready to call Buck lover yet. His heart cried out that this was love, but his brain was stubbornly dragging behind, keeping him silent. He wanted, no, needed to let go and let Buck take over, but he was scared. This had happened so suddenly, when he was so vulnerable. Yet Buck was his friend. He had saved Ezra's life in the past. He was here now, protecting him and comforting him. Was that what this was? Comfort for the damn rape earlier in the day? Ezra tried to break free of the big man's hold. A moment ago he thought he'd never want to be anywhere but in the man's strong arms, held tenderly in the bed, lying beside his friend. But now, doubts arose and Ezra began to fight. No, no, he couldn't afford to be hurt again, not so soon, not after Tony and then Ivan and his goons, no, please, no. "Please, no."

Buck felt the unexpected struggles of his friend and then as he tried to calm the little man with soothing hands, he heard the plaintive cry, so whisper soft against his lips, so hopeless. "Please, no."

Buck could not ignore the plea and pulled back, not releasing Ezra, but ending the kiss and loosening his hold on his sweet armful. Ezra tried to slip free, but Buck knew that if he let Ezra leave now, if only from the bed, he'd lose him completely. "Ezra, please, don't." Buck's own voice was a pained plea that stopped the other's desperate movements. Petting and stroking the bare arms, letting his hands slide under the wrinkled tee shirt, Buck rubbed Ezra's belly and moved his hand in circles of calming reassurance. "I'm so sorry. I took this too fast. Damn, didn't mean to do that, Ez. Sweetheart?" Buck tucked his head down beside the now listless copper haired one. With a coaxing nuzzle, Buck added a quiet, non-threatening peck to one dear cheek.

"Ezra? I know this is sudden." Buck cleared his throat, finding himself unexpectedly fighting back betraying tears. "You've been my friend for a long time now. Must be hard to believe that I could jump tracks so fast, huh?" The self-deprecating amusement seemed to restore some calmness to Standish who lifted and turned his head slightly, to study Buck with slanted green eyes. "Um. Well, was a surprise to me, too." Buck rubbed his forehead against the other's, then moved back enough to make eye contact again. "You've seen me with all my ladies. Never found one, though, that could touch me inside, that could make my innards melt." He was not handling this very well and Ezra was listening but not giving him any encouragement.

Ezra blinked sleepily, calm again now. He'd had a harrowing few days, emotionally and physically draining. Now that Buck wasn't pushing, he felt comfortable and safe in the big man's arms and could feel waves of black sleep lapping at the shore of his mind. He fought them off. No, I need to hear this. This is important. He stretched his eyes wide, forcing himself to stay awake and listen.

Buck noted the tiny struggle. He's fading fast, but he's trying. Gallant sweet man. Tenderly, Buck brushed Ezra's too long, shaggy hair back from his high, clear forehead and placed another soft kiss there. "Ezra, I love you. I know it may not make much sense the way it happened, but I do. You can fill all my empty places, I feel entire with you, like never in my whole life. Finding out that you liked men, that you were open to such a thing, was like taking the lid off a box I didn't even know that I had. Didn't know that I'd shut." Buck pressed a soft, non-demanding kiss on the pouty lips. "I discovered a new Ezra, or, maybe just uncovered more of you, don't know. Only know that you resonate with me." He quirked his lips in a small smile as the southerner raised an eyebrow at the fancy word. "You fill me up. Ezra," serious, Buck stared into those deep green eyes that had never left his own, "Ezra, I love you. And Ezra? I have never said that to anyone, man, woman, or child, before. Never. Well," he smiled teasingly, to soften the moment, "If you don't count my mother."

He captured Ezra's lips again in another gentle kiss, just a brushing of lips on lips. "Love only you, Ez."

Finally Standish seemed to rouse enough to speak, his voice hoarse and thin. "You're the team's 'ladies man.' I don't understand."

"Enjoy playing with the ladies, no doubt, but never more than that. Just ask JD sometime, I don't do repeats very often and the ladies all know they'll have a good time but won't get to keep old Buck." Serious deep blue eyes met the green ones unflinchingly. "That's gonna change now."

"You'd not --? You'd," Ezra took a deeper breath to steady his voice, "You'd stop 'playing with the ladies?'"

"Pard, you are the only one I want and I want you forever."

"And the women?"

"Nevermore, Ez." Buck tugged the drowsy man back more securely into his arms. "Nevermore." He settled the drooping head against his chest and rested his chin on the soft crown of waves. "Love only you." Buck began to rock them slowly, feeling Ezra's battle to stay awake finally end in a weary sigh and the softest of tiny snores. Buck smiled and curled them together, stretching out an arm to pull up the blankets. He wasn't sure he'd won the day yet, maybe not even the heart, but this campaign was one he would wage until the day that Ezra agreed to be his. Lifting his broad shoulders higher and pulling them forward to make a shelter for his sweetheart, Buck was content and let sleep take him as well. "Love you, Ez," was a quiet inhalation, not even a conscious thought, just an expression that drifted out on the breath as his eyes drooped shut.

"Love you, Buck." Wilmington's fuzzy near sleep was abruptly gone and he was wide awake again, tense and listening but heard only the soft sounds of sleep coming from his partner. The quiet murmur had been a sleepy sigh, like his own. Waiting as his heart began to slow again, Buck combed his fingers through the soft russet hair, enjoying the texture. Oh, yes, he'd win this one, and had, in fact, already won, just had to convince the waking, street-smart Ezra P. Standish of what his unconscious already knew. Yep, it was gonna be fine.

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Sometime during the night, Buck woke and found Ezra had literally crawled on top of him, clinging in a sweaty nightmare of grunts and whimpering cries. "Easy, there, baby, Buck's here. No one's gonna hurt you. You're safe, baby, sleep, sleep." Buck lowered them so that they could lie flat on the narrow mattress, and turned so that Ezra's body fell onto the bed again and off his chest. He held on and kept the small man close gently guiding the restless sleeper to rotate so that they could spoon together. Buck had never even taken off his clothes, so he knew his erection would not be too obvious to his friend. He crossed his arms over Ezra's chest and hugged, savoring the warmth and the way they fit together so perfectly. Ezra's head had fallen onto his left bicep and rubbed now, back and forth against it.

Never waking, Standish gradually sank back down to a deeper sleep within Buck's arms. Keep my treasure safe, here against my heart, Buck thought groggily as he too succumbed to sleep again, nose buried in tousled hair that smelled of spice and some lightly floral scent. They slept through the rest of the night without waking.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It was the rumbles and popping of bike motors that woke Buck at some indeterminate hour. Morning, he decided and snuffled at the curling hairs beneath his nose. Ezra. Shifting slightly, he stretched without releasing his friend. The noises outside were building, increasing with more growling multi-cylinder throats.

Gotta get up, get Ez up too. "Hey. Sleepy?" he licked the closest ear and breathed into it as he spoke again. "Ezra, we have to get up, baby."

"Umm, no, too soon." Came the grumbling, slightly irritated response.

"Come on, Ez." Buck gave a gentle shake to the body in his arms, felt the form curl back closer against him. "Darlin,' you gotta wake up, we got a date with the gang."

There was a knock on the door and Buck backed off the bed, letting Standish's limp body collapse into the nest of blankets without him. Half falling, half staggering, Wilmington made it stiffly to his feet and shuffled toward the door, automatically scooping up his gun from the table near the entrance. "Who's there?"

"Jeanie." The feminine voice brought back the evening sharply.

Buck cautiously opened the door, gun behind his back. When he saw that the thin, busty woman was alone, he shoved the weapon in to the back of his waistband, out of sight. Jeanie stood there, leaning against the porch post, arms folded across her chest, a lit cigarette dangling from her orange glossed lips.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself, Buck." Jeanie stepped forward to peer over Buck's shoulder into the darkened room, grinning as she spotted the single mussed bed, still occupied by the other biker. Before she could see more, Wilson had shifted to block her view.

"So, Jeanie, what can I do for you this morning?"

"Kinda me for you," she arched an eyebrow and unfolded her arms, bringing her hands forward to display two cloth patches, both oval and steel blue with silver bound edges. Each had bold letters sewn on, in simple style, easy to read. One said Buck's Property. The other said Ezra's property.

"Not often we get a two-dick couple riding with us, even if the boys do have fun once in awhile." She let her hands rock to display the way the metallic threads that formed the letters glittered in the light. "Us girls usually sew on our own." She looked him over doubtfully. "Thought, if you want, you give me the clothes, I'd sew 'em on for you?"

Buck had to admit, he was charmed. The patches were a visual, very concrete reminder of what he and Ezra were becoming. 'Course, here and now, it was part of the undercover scheme, but in a larger sense, it was like a love token, he decided. "Why, Jeanie, if your man don't mind, I'd sure appreciate it." He looked back over his shoulder at the unmoving lump in the bed. "Can you wait a moment?"

At her nod, he disappeared back into the room and then strode back out, closing the door almost completely behind him. "Here." He held two pairs of pants, the size difference enough to identify whose was whose.

Jeanie leaned forward, hands dropping to her sides as she examined the clothing being displayed. Looking up in confusion, she said, "Um, maybe you didn't understand last night where they go?"

"Nope, understood just fine, only for me and Ez, want it a bit different." Buck held out the smaller jeans. "You put it right here," he gestured to the cloth. Holding out the larger pair, he smiled and added, "And on this one, think you can fit it here?" He gestured to a different location.

With a giggle that was childishly at odds with her hard appearance, the young woman nodded as she accepted the pants. "Can have 'em done for you in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Jeanie. Somethin' I can give you for all this work?"

She looked up, one eyebrow raised in appraisement. "Maybe a piece of the action, later today?" When the man looked skeptical, she continued, "I don't mean put me in the middle, just, if you get a bonus, ya know, share it."

Buck nodded solemnly. "Seems fair. Sure thing. And thanks, think Ezra's gonna like them." He watched as she walked back over to the back of the cafe / bar and went inside. Stretching again, he looked around. His bike remained untouched, canted on its kickstand by the bottom step of the porch to the small cabin. Edging around the sides of the Hot Run, there were dozens of bikes of varying makes and models, sitting in the early morning sun. He saw two trikes with low flat camping trailers on hitches behind them. Both were parked at an angle to the office porch out back. No people though, the area was deserted. Shrugging, he pushed the door back open and walked into the cabin, shutting the door. Fingering his chin, he decided a shave would keep him diverted from climbing back into bed. Let Ez sleep until his pants get back. Buck smiled. Hope he likes the patch and where it's gonna be.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Gent Fisher finished breakfast with Ty and the two trike riders. Both were regulars who usually rode regular bikes but brought in their heavy-duty three-wheelers for these meets. The trailers could carry a lot and the big motors meant there was no way to tell that the trailers were weighted down. There hadn't been any sign of Wilson and Schiller but he figured that they'd show soon, the incoming bikers swelling the tables now and lining the bar, had all rumbled into the parking area, creating a heavy, almost continuous roar. Ty had informed him of Jeanie's little project. He'd found it amusing and was slightly interested when she showed back up at the back exit, carrying two pairs of jeans over her arm. She plumped down at a table with other chicks and the laughing exchange made him think something was up, something had amused the women.

Distracted by Coon's question on the road conditions, Gent turned back to the conversation. Coon and Ragger were his trike riders, they were the transport for the merchandise samples soon to be used for bargaining at the meet with these new buyers. Neither he, nor Coon, nor Ragger noticed when Jeanie popped back up after about ten minutes or so and walked back out, still carrying the two pairs of jeans. Ty watched her leave and wondered. Know soon enough, he thought. If those boys don't show in about twenty minutes, we'll send Toad to roust them.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Buck wiped the last of the shaving soap from his scraped chin, rubbing to test the smoothness. Smooth as a baby's bottom, he smiled, waggling his eyebrows at himself in the small mirror over the sink. Smooth as Ezra's? He licked his lips and began to look forward to when this case was over and he could find out.

He was coming out of the bathroom when another knock at the door had him speeding his steps past the sleeping Standish. Peering out the partially opened door, he saw Jeanie had returned. He stepped outside, once more drawing the door nearly closed behind him in an automatically protective gesture.

"Done already?"

"Yeah," the thin woman smirked up at him and handed over the jeans. "He's gonna look wicked." She coughed on a laugh. "And you, geesh, Buck, you're gonna look so hot." She shook her head, smiling still. "Have fun and see you soon." She jerked her head back toward the roadhouse. "By the way, the fellers are gatherin' so you two better not be too much longer or they'll send someone after you."

Buck who was holding up the jeans to check them out, smiled widely up at her. "These are perfect! Can't wait ta see Ez in his." He folded the jeans over his arm. "Thanks and I'll remember you when the bonuses come out, Jeanie."

"Sounds good, see ya around, Buck." With that the woman turned on her heel and headed once again into the back of the cafe / bar.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Vin's jeep sounded almost like a machinegun as it churned and coughed down the road. He sat tall, his torn sleeveless sweatshirt and patched jeans a universal uniform. He'd put on an old John Deere bill cap, tugged low to protect his eyes from the sun. He spun the wheel and the jeep nearly jumped into the area in front of the gas pumps, facing an army of motorcycles left in scattered array around the neighboring roadhouse. The still arriving bikes nearly drowned his own motor until he switched it off and the nearby silence was a relief. A grease monkey wandered out from the maw of the garage, wiping oil from blackened fingers.

"Help you mister?"

"Yeah, need gas. Fill 'er up. Need oil. Damn thing's taken to leaking like a sieve."

Still an old-fashioned service station, the place didn't expect anyone to pump their own gas. Probably safer that way, cheaper too, Vin thought as he watched the man fill the jeep's tank. As for the oil, the character, whose name badge, embroidered on his overalls, said he was 'Chuck' went in the back to get some. While he waited Vin scanned the area. No sign of our boys. Don't mean anything, but then, don't see their bike neither. Vin knew what the big hawg looked like, he'd checked it out when it was issued to Buck. Well, guess I'll see if there's a drop. Borrowing the restroom key, on a long wooden wand, Vin strolled around behind the station. Just before reaching the door to the men's room, he finally spotted their bike, sitting in front of a tiny former motel cabin, one of six in a half circle out back of the roadhouse. Damn, didn't know those were there and Ezra didn't mention them in the briefing. As he hesitated, the cabin door opened and the two men emerged. Vin knew better than to signal his presence, but he was fascinated by the way they left the cabin. Ezra led, looking ahead toward the back of the roadhouse, and Buck followed, one hand on the small of Standish's back. No one lookin' just now, 'cept me, and they haven't seen me. Could be just practicing, but it didn't look contrived, just affectionate. Maybe a bit possessive. Once in a while Chris would do that to him, so Vin knew the intimate gesture and the weight of meaning it carried.

Not finding a drop in the men's room, Vin headed out to his jeep. No sign of Buck or Ezra, he decided they didn't have anything to pass on yet. Paying Chuck, Vin jumped back into the rusty old jeep and gunned the engine, then with a wave, was off.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"You have got to be kidding!"

Buck puffed out his chest and crossed his muscular forearms on his chest. He tilted his pelvis slightly so that he knew (he'd practiced in the bathroom) that the patch showed to effect. "Nope."

"And you are going to wear that?" Ezra shook his head in bewilderment, really not fully awake and stunned at Buck's altered jeans. The palm-sized oval patch had been sewn over the bulge of his button-closed fly. It nearly popped out when the man gyrated like that. Ezra blushed a crimson red.

Buck took pity on his partner and ambled over, grabbing a hand and tugging the man to his feet from the bed. "Come on, now, they're waiting for us." He handed over the other jeans. "Get dressed."

Ezra accepted the pants with suspicion, turning them to examine the zippered fly and found it looking the same as normal, no patch flagging its position. It was with relief that he squirmed into the tight fitting worn old jeans. Zipping up, he flexed his legs and alternated raising up on one foot, then the other, as he settled himself into the glove tight arrangement, making sure he dressed left as usual. That tweaking adjustment made, he stooped over and worked on his boots, unaware of the picture he presented to his partner.

Buck gazed with rapt attention at the sweetly rounded ass that curved up at him as Ezra bent over to get into his boots, fix his boot holster and hideaway. Slap in the curved center of one faded blue ass cheek was a brand new patch. The light flicked on and off on the metallic threads declaring that the merchandise within was Buck's Property. Wilmington unconsciously stroked his own patch on his thickening crotch, feeling the heat and the heaviness through the old denim. He took in a ragged breath and swallowed, licking his lips without even realizing it as Ezra shifted to his other leg, that beautiful ass twitching as the muscles within bunched and relaxed. Oh, boy. Um, um. Oh, boy, oh boy. Buck rubbed harder at his now straining erection, not sure if he was trying to kill it or bring it on all the way. He shivered as Ezra straightened and the most perfect ass he'd ever seen, now bearing his property mark, curved deliciously in front of him. Then Ezra turned and stared at Buck who snatched his hand away from his groin guiltily. Both eyebrows went up in silent interrogation.

It was Buck's turn to blush violently, the hue more a pink than red, warming his tan. "Sorry, Ez, just takin' in the sights." Buck's stutter did not help.

"That looks rather painful," Ezra remarked neutrally. He managed to keep from bursting out laughing at the sight of his big friend squirming like an adolescent in front of him. And he did seem to have a rather massive hard on. Ezra felt himself respond and turned slightly so that his rising heat was not too obvious. They had a job to do and this was not going to help it. He sighed. The night before was a blur and a dizzying dream that he still wasn't sure was real, even though Buck had kissed him awake and reminded him that they were real buddies now, not just friends, but more. "Buck, if you can make it, we should go." He let just a hint of question enter his voice. Then waited.

Wilmington stood up straighter and spread his legs a bit. Bow-legged, he could manage. Might be walking like a cowboy from now on, he thought in resignation. Small price to pay, he decided as his friend headed out the door in front of him, providing him with another breathtaking view of perfectly rounded buttocks that moved in separate, muscular circles as the sturdy legs beneath moved the compact form forward. The velvet-soft denim seemed to be painted on. This is mine, Buck thought aggressively and stalked toward Ezra's retreating form. He caught up on the porch and put his hand on the small of Ezra's back. The southerner did not react, just kept going but did move a bit slower, so he wouldn't pull free from the possessive touch. Together, they headed for the Hot Run and their undercover.

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