Disclaimer: In this season of giving and charity it would be nice if the Alphabet Brigade would share, but I don't really expect the fellas in my stocking tomorrow morning...

Warnings: violence, language... the staples

Notes: Written for Anita, upon the occasion of her birth. She wanted them both bruised and contused. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!! May the coming year be MAGNIFICENT! And don't fall off th' bike,okay? <WG>

Chris Larabee barely managed to catch the battered, almost nude body beside him. He tightened his hold around Vin Tanner as the semi-conscious man fought to stay on his feet. One hand unconsciously rubbed the lean, muscled arm, and he coaxed in a whisper, "just a few more yards, Cowboy. You with me?"

As the younger man's matted head nodded feebly, he guided him forward once more. He cursed the events of the recent past under his breath for the hundredth time. His gut had told him not to accept the assignment, but he had allowed his stubborn pride to get the better of him. And Vin Tanner, his best friend in the world, was paying the price.

It had only been nine weeks ago when Assistant Director Travis had entered his office to deliver up a thorn in the government's side to the ATF's premiere team. Now Chris could only wish that he had kept his door locked.

A long-established criminal hierarchy had come under new management as the previous leaders aged and died. The young bulls who took up the reins had an openly violent streak, and ruled those involved in the new world order with an iron fist. While their tactics lacked the finesse of their predecessors, they had been able to expand into many more shadowy enterprises.

During the previous two years, they had become a force to be reckoned with. They became one of the legitimate government's top priorities, and every effort was made to shut them down. So far, the attacks had netted very little valid information, and led to the deaths of four agents and the disappearance of ten more.

Travis had been approached in the matter, and asked to supply the inter-agency effort with some of his men. After some deliberation, the AD had given it to Larabee and his "Magnificent Seven" Team.

Reluctantly Chris agreed to take the assignment. His team was renowned for breaking cases that no other team could crack. Quickly, he and his men gathered as much intelligence as possible on what they were getting into. None of the decisions they needed to make about the assignment were easy. They weathered several arguments within their group, over what would ultimately happen if they were to have any success. Finally, when the dust cleared, they had a plan. Chris and Vin would spearhead the first phase of the investigation, going in under deep cover. To ensure not only the success of the operation, but their own lives, they would have absolutely no contact with anyone. That meant their teammates, the ATF, or anything remotely connected with the legal system. If they were going to survive the mission, they could leave no hint of a trail to their true lives. Instead, they would have to become the men of their cover stories... lock, stock and barrel.

Three weeks after being given the assignment, Larabee and Tanner made certain that their affairs were in order. They met with the other five members at Chris' ranch, which Buck and JD would be looking after, for a rather somber gathering. The next morning the two men quietly disappeared from the face of the earth.

Just over a week later, Dino Casini, the man they had identified as the key to the operation, hired a new 'enforcer' for his organization. Cole Langdon was a dark presence, even in a pearl gray suit and collarless lavender shirt. His jet-black hair fell in waves down his neck, and his ebony eyes seemed to pierce through anyone who had the bad luck to find themselves in his vision. He wore a single diamond stud in one ear, and an expensive watch on his wrist.

Four days later, Casini found himself in need of a new driver when his disappeared, and he quickly hired Jamie Macklyn. The gregarious man wore his white-blond hair short and spiky, and he sported a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. His pale blue eyes sparkled with barely restrained mischief, framed with thick black lashes in a deeply tanned face. He wore vividly colored shirts of red, blue or green, his faded jeans held up with thin leather suspenders.

The two men were slowly accepted into the organization, kept busy by duties set to test their mettle. Yet another week passed before they came into contact with one another. At that point, they gave all those around them something to talk about for days to come.

Jamie, frequently referred to as 'Mac', launched himself at Cole with an animal-like growl. Langdon recovered quickly and the two men began trading punches. For several minutes the others in the room watched curiously, finally stepping in to pull the two men apart. Neither man would explain their actions until they were standing before Casini.

In cool, measured tones, Cole gave his account of the situation, off-set by the frequently virulent retorts of the furious Maclyn. Finally Dino deciphered the story. Cole and Mac had worked together several years earlier, along with Mac's brother Jesse and a handful of young toughs trying to make a name for themselves. But then, during one job, the last they would do together, they encountered the law. Mac had been caught, and his brother killed. He blamed the cool and collected Langdon for what had happened. Cole denied any responsibility, and considered Jamie Macklyn a hotheaded idiot.

Casini accepted the explanation, and warned both men of the consequences should they fight again. After that, the two men glared and occasionally traded verbal bars, but typically they stayed away from one another. Life for the two agents settled into a rather surreal routine. Chris moved among the upper echelon as Cole Langdon, while Vin charmed almost everyone around him as Jamie Macklyn. For three weeks the men did their jobs and gathered bits and pieces of information. They made no effort to write anything down, relying only on their memories to store the information. But then something happened.

Just a day ago, Chris realized that his friend was missing. With a few well-phrased questions, he quickly discovered that the younger agent has been taken away two days before. Something had happened to cause Dino Casini to suspect the man of being a mole.

With his heart wedged firmly in his throat, the well-disguised team leader managed to compose himself enough to request a private meeting with 'The Boss'. Cole asked to be allowed to assist in Jamie Macklyn's 'interrogation'. He knew that he could not push the request far, and was relieved when Dino agreed to his request.

An hour later, barely able to keep himself from flying down the road to rescue Vin, Chris was in route. He had been shocked to discover that the auxiliary compound where his friend was being held was over 200 miles away.

He reached the compound late that evening, having stopped along the way to fill the trunk of the car with supplies. He tried to consider any contingency, hoping that he would find it all unnecessary. The team leader even managed to distract himself by coming up with retorts for the teasing he would receive when Vin saw the trunk filled with food, blankets and medical supplies.

Casini had called the compound to inform them that Langdon would be arriving, and he was ushered inside by one of the three guards he had located as he came up the drive. His escort was vaguely familiar, no doubt one of the guards from the main compound. Despite his fervent desire to immediately go to Tanner's side, he allowed Casini's men to call the shots while he got the lay of the land. He was shown to his quarters, then joined the others for dinner.

"So, how's the interrogation going?" Cole asked casually over coffee.

"Slow," one of the men replied. "Gotta give the bastard credit, he ain't said a thing so far."

"I'm sure I can change that," the undercover agent said. "When are we going to go... play... with him?"

Another man at the table said, "not tonight. We spent the morning rearranging those pretty boy features of his. We'll let him consider his options for tonight, and go visit with him tomorrow morning."

The team leader replied, "look, I've owed that son of a bitch for a lot of years. I'd like to get started now, if you don't mind."

"I do mind," the mob member said in a cold tone. "Mr. Caisni said you were comin' to help... not take over. We'll do it my way."

Realizing that he had pushed some dangerous buttons, Larabee backed off. Holding up a hand, he said, "no offense. Just anxious to get started." Inwardly he cursed, the thought of his friend close by and in pain almost too much for him to bear.

Chris returned to the small but comfortable suite he had been given soon afterward. While the dark-eyed Cole Langdon strolled calmly through the door, an anxiety ridden Chris Larabee appeared on the other side of the threshold. He paced, short hard steps pounding on the carpeted floor. One fist beat against his thigh as the other wandered. He ran his fingers through his dyed hair, scrubbed his hand over his stubbled chin, and rubbed his dark contact covered eyes.

'Where are you Tanner?' he wondered silently. 'How are you?'

The agent spent a sleepless night, prowling the compound. Thankful that the others trusted his motives, he gave the appearance of casually strolling around the grounds. In reality, he was taking in the most minute details as he plotted possible escape routes. By the time the sun began to light the Eastern sky, he had a plan in place. All that he needed was Vin Tanner.

"Good morning," Cole Langdon said quietly as he joined the others for breakfast.

The other men nodded, more interested in their plates of food than amenities.

"So, when does the show begin?" Chris asked evenly as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He was fairly certain that he could keep the hot brew down. Anything else would more than likely be rejected by his churning stomach.

"What's the rush?" Arnie Warren, the thug in charge, asked around a mouthful of Belgian waffle.

Shrugging, Cole said, "told you last night. I've owed him for a long time. I'd like to start making payments."

Warren grinned. "Don't worry Langdon. You'll get the chance to pay in full. Willie here checked on him before breakfast."

Larabee's gaze shifted to the hulking brute on the other side of the table. The big man was shoveling huge mouthfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He watched as the ape finally looked up from his plate.

"He didn't seem t' be enjoyin' life a whole lot this mornin'. In fact, he was lookin' a mite blue... black and blue!" The man identified as Willie laughed at his attempt at humor. Flecks of cooked egg sprayed over the table.

Frowning at both the man's description of Tanner, and the mess he was spewing over the other food, Chris asked, "is he up to more questioning?"

"Who th' hell cares? Casini ain't interested in keepin' 'm alive any longer'n it takes t' get what we need from him."

"Which is?"

"Information," Arnie replied vaguely.

"Which is?" Langdon repeated pointedly.

"I suppose that, if Dino felt you needed to know, he would have told you."

"He sent me to help with the interrogation. Seems to me he would expect me to know what I'm looking for."

"Guess, then, that you'll just have to supply the muscle, and I'll handle the questioning." Warren made no effort to hide the fact that he was enjoying his superior status.

"Did I piss on your shoes or something, Warren?" Chris said with a low growl.

Unable to disguise the sudden surge of fear he felt at the man's dark tone, Arnie gulped. Taking a minute to hide the fear in his voice, he said, "no. I just don't like you Langdon. Punks like you come up quick, acting like nobody's as good as you. I earned my position in the family, and I don't appreciate you comin' in at the last minute. You wanna stay here, you play by my rules and you don't ask any questions. Got it?"

Leveling a glare at the other man, Cole said, "oh, I've got you all right."

Vin heard the heavy door open, and slowly lifted his head. Managing to peel back one eyelid, he saw a pair of blurred figures enter the miserably cold, damp room. He sensed, rather than saw, that it was the two that had been there before. It was the men that had been working to break his cover for - what he assumed was -- days. They had yet to be successful, but he knew it was only a matter of time. His single remaining hope was that Chris would be able to rescue him.

The bloodied man registered the fact that a third person was crowding into the little room. He frowned as he tried to focus his vision on the newcomer. The sharpshooter didn't need sight to identify the man as soon as he heard the soft voice. Tanner barely managed to hide the smile that graced his battered features.

Larabee pulled the mask of Cole Langdon down firmly to hide the shock he felt at the sight of

his best friend. Managing to sound far calmer than he felt, he said, "looks like you boys have been busy."

Jamie Macklyn had been stripped to his boxers. He sat in a hard-backed chair, his body held there by leather and chain. The lean, muscled arms were pulled taut, suspended over his head by a heavy chain that was suspended from the ceiling. His ankles were held tight to the chair by leather straps. Chris could see that the right one was swollen and discolored, probably broken. Likewise, Vin's left forearm was swollen and bruised, with an unnatural bend just below the elbow.

There was barely a spot on the slender body that wasn't bloodied or discolored. Tanner's handsome face was a swollen mass of cut and bruises, one eye hidden completely, and the other little more than a slit. Chris saw the barest hint of blue though, and knew there was recognition there. Vin's body language told him quite clearly that he knew he was there, and waiting for his friend's move. He hoped that the younger man would be able to maintain his cover.

Stepping up to the bound man, Langdon said, "well, Macklyn. You don't look like the lady killer you're always pretending to be."

Managing to keep his head up, he returned the other man's glare. Mac managed a hoarse, garbled, "bathdah." He spit at his friend and tormentor.

Seeming to take the assault with a studied calm, Larabee pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He barely managed not to flinch at the sight of the bloodied spittle. With a feigned ferocity, he drew back and ploughed a fist into the grinning face. While Chris pulled the punch, he still felt the other man's head snap back.

Vin exaggerated his reaction to the blow, a strangled cry escaping his mangled lips. His head hung limply then, neck stretched as the once shaggy head dangled back between the strained shoulders.

Chris lifted the man's head, not wanting his friend to choke, while Cole Langdon growled at his nemesis. "You won't get off that easy, Mac." Turning to the other men, he said, "where's the key?"

"I told you, I'm in charge here," Warren fairly yelled. "I call th' shots!"

Whipping around, his body blocking the injured man from their view, the ATF agent leveled his gun on the two criminals. "Not any more."

Arnie and Willie stared open mouthed at the man before them. Recovering from the shock, Warren stammered, "l-look Cole... I... you... you do what you want... okay? I... I mean, we-we're all friends... right?"

"No, we're not." Larabee's voice was deceptively calm, dangerous in its soft tone. "Give me your guns... now."

Willie was quick to comply, his slow mind less able to challenge any type of authority. Warren hesitated, but finally retrieved his side arms and handed them over.

Laying the guns on the semi-conscious mans lap for the time being, Larabee moved from one thug to the other, patting them down. His own weapon never wavered, trained on Arnie's head. The agent knew that as long as he threatened Warren's life, the would-be mastermind would keep Willie in line.

Retrieving three more weapons and the keys to the chains holding his friend, Chris moved back to the battered man. Gathering the weapons, he tucked them into his jacket pockets, knowing they would need all the firepower they could get. Holding the keys out, he said to Willie, "get him loose."

Looking from the dark-eyed man to Arnie, the big man hesitated. He jumped, startled, when a muffled shot rang out. He saw a thin line of blood appear on his boss's cheek; watched as the smaller man cried out in pain. His mouth opened and closed, uncertain as to what he wanted to say.

"Do it!" Warren hissed as he grabbed his injured face.

Taking the keys, Willie worked quickly to free the battered man, heedless of any pain he might inflict. As the lean arms fell free of their bonds, Mac cried out in pain. Willie's eyes shot to the man he knew as Cole Langdon, his focus flitting from the hell-black eyes to the gun trained on Arnie.

"You hurt him again and I blow both your damn heads off... got me?" There was no doubting his sincerity.

"Got you... got you," Willie's head bobbed frantically. He monitored his efforts then, loosening the man with greater care. When he had removed the final bond, he stood back away from the bloodied man.

Waving the big man over to stand near Warren, Chris ordered, "both of you turn around... get on your knees... hands on your heads." As they complied, he pulled handcuffs from a pocket, slapping them on the two men. Then he gently moved Vin over and ordered the two men to stand beneath the ceiling-bound chains that had held his friend. Fastening them to those chains, he finished by gagging the men with two of the leather straps.

Satisfied that they were no threat now, Larabee moved to kneel before his tortured friend. Gently he lifted the swollen face so that he could look into the single visible eye. "Hey pard," he said softly, "you ready to go home?"

"Yeth," Vin managed to lisp in a hoarse whisper.

Smiling compassionately at his friend, he said, "I know you're hurting, but you're gonna have to walk. Think you can make it if I help you?"

Too tired now to speak, Tanner nodded. He bit back a cry as Chris helped him to his feet. Keeping as much weight off his broken ankle as possible, he held tightly to his friend. Focusing only on staying on his feet, Vin managed to hobble across the room and out the door.

Keeping a firm grip on the injured man, Chris half-carried him through the big house. He kept alert for any sign of any of the others. Fortunately the secondary stronghold was sparsely manned, the criminals having no reason to expect an attack. With Vin stumbling along beside him, they made it to the front door of the house without incident.

Carefully lowering Tanner to the floor next to the door, Chris said, "I'm going to go get the car and bring it to the door, okay?" As the wounded man nodded, he brought oneof the confiscated weapons from his pocket and pressed it into the less injured hand. "Just in case."

As the agent started to rise, Vin muttered, "wath yer 'ack."

Unable to keep from smiling at the garbled speech, Larabee replied, "you wath yer 'ack, too."

Managing the hint of a smile through bloodied lips, the younger man managed, "'mar' ath."

His hand gently ruffling through the shorn locks, Chris said, "hang on, pard. We're getting out of here."

Larabee forced himself to casually stroll from the house to the paved drive beyond. He managed to wave to the guard nearby as if nothing was going on. Slipping behind the wheel of his rented vehicle, he fumbled for the key. Finally managing to start the car, the agent pulled it up as close to the door as possible. Leaving the car running, he strode back inside, announcing himself to the man inside.

Smiling when he saw the gun slowly drop back into the other agent's lap, he squatted down beside him. "Glad I let you know it was me."

His bloodied lips pulling up into a brief smile, the other man simply looked up at his friend.

"You ready to get out of here?" As Tanner nodded he carefully pulled him to his feet once more. Chris Larabee barely managed to catch the battered, almost nude body beside him. He tightened his hold around Vin Tanner as the semi-conscious man fought to stay on his feet. One hand unconsciously rubbed the lean, muscled arm, and he coaxed in a whisper, "just a few more yards, Cowboy. You with me?"

As the younger man's matted head nodded feebly, he guided him forward once more. Outside,

Larabee watched the guard, glad to see that the man's attention was focused away from the house. Then their luck ran out just as he was slipping Vin into the car. One of the other guards came strolling around the corner of the house, yelling out when he realized that their visitor was shuttling the man they were supposed to be guarding into a car.

"Hey! What th' hell are you doin'?!"

In response, Chris shoved his battered friend down on the seat with one hand as he fired off a volley of shots with the other. Closing the door, he kept low as he dashed around the car to the driver's side. Just as he dropped into the car he felt something tug at his side, but it did little to slow him down. Slamming the car into drive, he floored the accelerator and flew past the startled guards. They were soon beyond the compound, the sound of gunfire fading in the distance.

They drove for a while before Larabee felt it safe to stop. He found a tree-shrouded access road and drove far enough off the main road to keep anyone from seeing them. Parking at the edge of the rough dirt path, he allowed himself a minute to lay back against the seat and close his eyes. His side throbbed painfully now, and he could feel blood seeping from the gash one of the bullets had put there. His attention didn't stay on his relatively minor wound, however.

"Cwith?"

The agent turned to his companion. Vin lay slumped against the seat, unable to even lift his head from the headrest. If anything the younger man looked even worse than before. Blood seeped from a variety of wounds over most of the lean frame, which was a patchwork of colorful bruising. Most painful to look at was the ruined face, the finely chiseled features hidden beneath puffy, swollen flesh.

"Hey pard," he eased himself upright, grunting with pain as the wound was pulled at by the bloodied shirt. "How you doing?"

"'Kay... n-now," he managed.

Chuckling, Larabee said, "Tanner, you never could lie worth a damn. I'm gonna get you patched up as well as I can, then we're going home."

"How?" Vin asked, speech too difficult for him to elaborate.

"I used to be a Boy Scout," Chris joked as he pulled himself wearily from the car. He moved to the trunk, opened it, and began rummaging through the contents. Stopping from time to time to conserve his waning strength, he prepared a place beside the car, complete with blanket and pillows. Vin wouldn't be teasing him about the supplies after all.

Easing the door open, he leaned inside to where the battered man lay. Gently he pulled Vin upright, then eased him out of the car and onto the blanket. Carefully lowering his friend to the ground, he straightened the long limbs. He grimaced at the sight of the ashen features and the tightly clinched jaw. Knowing that every movement brought more pain, he gingerly rubbed the trembling shoulder. Trying to ease the moment, he said lightly, "well, at least I don't have to worry about getting your clothes off you."

The sharpshooter managed a small smile, but said nothing. He could only endure his friend's ministrations. Chris was as gentle as possible, but nothing he could do eased the pain by much. He opened one of the jugs of purified water he had stocked up on and took up a cloth. Carefully he began to wipe away the blood from the battered face. The work was slow going, and his on wound was slowly sapping his strength. He knew that he would have to take care of it soon, or neither of them would make it out of this alive.

As if he had read his friend's mind, Tanner lisped, "Gadda fith yer thide, Cwith."

"I know," Larabee agreed. "Just let me get you settled in and cleaned up a little more first."

"Now," Vin argued. "Pweeth."

"Yeah, okay Sylvester... you go play with Tweety Bird." Dodging the faint, one-eyed glare, he set back on his heels. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he eased off his jacket and gently peeled back the ruined shirt. A long gash traced the flesh just below his ribs, blood still oozing from it. Using a fresh cloth, he bathed the mangled skin, then pressed the cloth tightly against it. Breathing with long slow breaths as he fought against the nausea that welled up to match the pain, he forced himself to hold it there for several minutes. Finally easing it away, he cursed when he saw that it still bled. Pulling the shirt the rest of the way off , he rummaged through the first aid supplies until he found a thick pad of gauze and heavy surgical tape. Pressing the cloth against his side, he clutched it there until the seeping blood held it in place. Managing to pull loose several pieces of tape, he fastened the bandage to his side. Leaning on one arm for a minute to rest, he finally looked up to see that Vin was once more watching him. "Okay?"

Nodding, Tanner allowed himself to relax. Despite his own grievous injuries, he was concerned about the other man's bullet wound. He knew as well as Larabee that, without Chris' help, he would never make it back to Denver and medical attention. Beyond that, though, he was worried about his friend.

"Now, let's get back to patching you up... unless you've got something better for me to do?" Another glare brought Larabee a chuckle. Without another word, he returned to cleaning up the younger man's injuries. Time passed slowly as he moved from the top of Vin's head to the bottom of his feet. Nothing had been left untouched by the bastards who had tortured him over the course of the past several days. Doing what he could to clean the open wounds and cover the worst of them, he finally came to the broken bones. Knowing that he could make things worse if he tried setting the breaks, he settled for binding them both tightly to protect them from further injury.

Sitting back once more, the older man said, "think it would be best if we stay here for awhile. They can't see us from the road, and they'll expect us to head straight for Denver."

"'Kay," Vin said through gritted teeth, as he continued to wait for the fresh pain to subside.

Retrieving a small bottle of designer water that he had packed as well, Chris gently lifted the bleached head from the ground. Being as careful as possible of the damaged lips, he slowly fed the injured man as much of the water as he could take. Vin moaned softly as he lowered him back to the blanket. Setting the bottle aside, he draped another blanket over the pain-wracked man. Wiping at the newly grown facial hair, he said, "you just rest now, Cowboy. I'll keep an eye out for the bad guys."

Nodding slowly, Tanner sighed as he drifted off to sleep.

The hours passed in an exhausted haze for both men. While Vin dozed restlessly on the blanket, Chris sat nearby, leaning against the side of the car. From time to time, he would pull himself to his feet and slip off to check the road. Traffic was sparse, and he saw no sign of Warren or the other men from the compound. If they were lucky, the men would be half way to Denver by now. However, Chris Larabee wasn't one to trust in luck. He wouldn't let his guard down until they were both home. The thought of being back among their five friends gave him a sense of peace. He would be happy to see them, to return to the safety of their number.

Finally, as the sun afternoon shadows all around them, he decided it was time to move. He knelt down beside his friend, gently nudging him awake. When the beaten face turned in his direction and the single eye peered from swollen lids, he said, "time to get back on the road. I'll do most of the work, but I'm gonna need you to help me, okay?"

Nodding, Vin struggled to push himself off the ground. Gratefully he felt Chris' arms around him and slumped against the broad chest. Between the two of them, they managed to get the tortured man off the ground and back into the car. Larabee moved to put him in the back seat, but Tanner balked, insisting in lisping monosyllables that he join his friend in the front seat. He knew that he could do very little, but stubbornness told him that he could still watch his friend's back.

Slumping half-conscious in the seat, Vin vaguely felt the blankets wrapped around him, their warmth fighting a losing battle against the chill he had felt since being locked away in the damp little room. He wasn't certain that he would ever feel warm again.

Chris closed the door and slowly shuffled around the car. He leaned heavily against the vehicle, knowing that the continued blood loss was eating away his reserves. Never a praying man, Larabee entreated whatever powers roamed the universe to give him the strength to get home.

Starting the car once more, he carefully guided it back along the dirt road to the intersecting secondary road. Sitting there for several minutes, he watched for signs of a trap. Finally deciding that there were none, he eased the car back onto the road, pointing toward Denver... their friends... medical attention... and safety.

They had been traveling for a while when Chris frowned at how rough the road was becoming. He considered remarking on that fact when he was interrupted by a lisping drawl.

"Cwith!"

Jerking upright, the blond realized that he was drifting off the side of the road and onto the shoulder. They were also dangerously near a drop-off. Violently stomping on the brakes, he slammed the car into park. He cringed at the pitiful cry from the other side of the front seat. With a grow, he spit out, "shit!"

" 'Kay?" The Texan managed to rasp out as he tried to pull himself upright on the seat.

"Yeah," Larabee's voice was filled with self-loathing. He reached across and helped his friend to sit back up. Straightening the blankets around the trembling frame, he took a quick inventory. Some of the deeper wounds were bleeding once more, and what color the unusually pale complexion had gained was lost once again. The waxen features glistened with perspiration and the gravely injured man's breathing was labored.

"I'm sorry pard," Larabee said softly.

"Nah... yer... fawt," Vin argued.

Chris considered continuing the argument, but knew only too well that the stubborn man wouldn't give up. Shaking his head, the blond simply said, "guess if I'm gonna get us home, I'd better take a break."

Wearily easing himself out of the car, Larabee shuffled to the trunk. He returned with two containers and a cellophane-wrapped sandwich. Opening up one of the bottles, he carefully fed the sports drink to the battered younger man. He continued until Tanner motioned that he was finished. Easing his friend back against the seat, he once more pulled the blankets closer around the man. The fact that Vin continued to tremble didn't escape his attention. "You still cold?"

"Yeah," Vin managed. "'Een col' th' 'hol' dime."

Deciphering the garbled speech, the older man clarified, "you've been cold the whole time?" When the bleached head nodded, he asked, "since they locked you up?"

Vin nodded again, grating out, "'us col' inna room... dah'p."

"Cold and damp." When another nod let him know he had understood, he sighed again.

"Doan, C'rith," Vin ordered. "y' din' know."

"I should have," Larabee turned away to watch out the windshield as he ate the sandwich and drank the water he had brought around for himself.

Realizing that his friend needed time to sort trough his guilt, Vin stayed quiet. Gritting his teeth, he shifted himself enough that he could watch out the back window. After several minutes of silence, the younger agent's single open eye caught a blurred movement behind them. "Cwith!"

Larabee jumped, startled, then turned to his friend. Realizing where the other man's attention was, he swiveled around painfully. Cursing as he saw the approaching car, he tossed what was left of his meal out the window. He couldn't be certain, but the possibility that the vehicle belonged to Casini's men was too great to chance. Shoving the gearshift into drive, he floored the accelerator and sent them flying down the road once more. The lethargy of only minutes ago disappeared as adrenaline burned through his body.

Across the seat, Vin was trying to shift his battered body around for a better vantage point. He managed to pull one of the guns Chris had confiscated from where they were secured in the seat cushions. Needing both hands to maneuver it, he bit off a groan as he felt the broken bones in his left arm shift. Despite his friend's gentle ministrations, his arm and ankle still screamed with pain. Finally he managed to prop the side arm against the seat back. While he could see that the car was closer, it was still nothing more than a dark blur in his damaged vision. He would have to rely on the blond to know that it was actually their pursuers behind them.

"Cwith?" He managed to push the garbled syllable past grossly swollen lips, loose teeth, and a mangled tongue.

"It's them," the team leader acknowledged, knowing what Tanner was asking. Risking a glance sideways, he saw what Vin was doing. "Pard, you just hang on, I'll get us out of this."

"'M... 'kay," he rasped, "y' n-nee... 'ackup."

Grinning despite the gravity of the situation, Larabee said, quietly, "reckon my back's covered... just like always."

Vin managed to smile, then he returned his focus to the back window. The dark shape was closer, less than a city block behind them. "Faz'er."

"We're flat out now," Chris informed him.

Neither man said any more. The team leader concentrated on keeping as far ahead of the other vehicle as possible, while Vin fought to stay conscious and cover their escape.

The gunshots began soon after, several of them hitting their car. One found the rear glass, the shards exploding inward. Vin barely managed to duck behind the headrest, and the blond felt several sharp stings as slivers caught him on the back of his head and neck.

"Oh...kay?" Tanner asked.

"Fine... you?" Larabee replied as he maneuvered the car through a series of sharp turns.

"'Een... 'edder," the sharpshooter quipped as he fired a volley of shots through the broken window. Then he was forced to drop the weapon to hold on as the car screeched through turn after turn.

"Gotta say you've looked better," the other man teased.

" 'Iss... off," Tanner managed.

Chris chuckled, but didn't reply. His concentration was snatched back to the road as they nearly plunged over the side. As he jerked the wheel with one hand, the other instinctively shot out to keep the injured man from falling.

Behind them, the other car wasn't as lucky. Just as they disappeared around yet another curve, the two men saw their pursuers disappear over the edge. Slowing, Larabee stopped the car and carefully backed up to the deadly curve. With a nod to his friend, he stepped from the car.

Less than a minute past before Chris returned. Sliding behind the wheel he turned to Tanner. Lifting the younger man gently to a more comfortable position, he said, "well, we don't have to worry about them any more."

Tanner smiled, then finally allowed himself to relax. Closing his eyes, he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, barely aware of the resumed movement as his friend started them back toward home.

Finding a secluded spot off the road a short time later, Chris pulled off to give them both a chance to rest and regroup. Easing from the car, he once more retrieved supplies from the trunk. Moving to the passenger side, he opened the door and perched on the edge of the floor. Setting his supplies on the thick carpet of grass, he helped Vin turn in the seat.

"Cwis, you... 'irs'," Tanner rasped out.

"You know, for someone far too close to making an ugly corpse, you're awfully damned bossy."

"Yeah... I'm... jus' li'e you."

Glaring briefly, the older man sighed and shook his head. "You're awfully full of yourself, Junior. You know, I could leave you here and see how long it takes you to drag your sorry ass home."

Managing another weak grin, Vin said softly, "nu-uh... y' woo'n'."

Laughing out loud now, the agent shook his head again. "No, I wouldn't." Carefully, he fed the cocky younger man more of the sports drink, then relented and changed the bandage on his side. Nearly passing out from the pain, he found himself leaning against the seat. After a few minutes, he felt a trembling hand rest on the back of his neck. Lifting his head seemed to take far too much energy, but he looked up into his friend's battered face.

" 'Kay?" Tanner asked with obvious concern.

Nodding, Chris said, "just tired, pard. Let's check you over and get back on the road."

Most of the beaten man's wounds had stopped bleeding, and the others were only seeping. Chris changed the bandages, his hands feeling like lead weights. He estimated they were half way home and, if he could keep himself going, they'd be there in a couple of hours.

Giving Vin more of the drink, Chris downed a soda and shuffled back around to slide behind the wheel. Once again straightening the blankets around the narrow shoulders, he squeezed one reassuringly and said, "just rest now, cowboy, I'll get us home."

Nodding, the young sharpshooter managed, "ne'r dou'd id."

Chris Larabee had never been so happy to see his home. Since the ranch was closer than the hospital, and his strength was quickly ebbing, the team leader decided to stop there. They were still under the deep cover regulations, but he would contend with any discipline later. Tanner's life was on the line, and he would easily take any penalty if his friend were alive to enjoy his misery. Buck and JD had been taking care of the ranch for the past weeks, and he was fairly certain one of them would be there. He was proven even more right than he expected. Pulling up to the end of the drive, he saw that all five men were present, evidenced by the number of vehicles in the yard. "Jesus, they're having a party!"

Rousing from his stupor, Vin realized where they were. With a wheezing laugh, he said, "foo'all par'y."

"Yeah. Damn, Ezra's here, I hope Buck locked up my good booze... for both their sakes." With that, he pulled himself from the car and around to the other side. He knew he should just blow the horn until the men inside heard and came out to investigate. At the very least, he should leave Vin in the car and go in alone. He knew that as well, but still opened the door and helped the battered man out.

Tanner slumped heavily against the other man, far too exhausted to do anything more than cling feebly to Chris, trembling with the effort.

Finding a last reserve of strength, Larabee pulled the battered body into his arms and staggered toward the house.

Buck Wilmington grumbled as he carried another round of empties to the kitchen. If he had been home, he wouldn't have given the mess a second thought. However, he wasn't at home, and he found himself fussing over the clutter like Martha Stewart at a frat party. He wasn't about to let Chris come home to a mess... when he came home.

Heaving a sigh, the big man leaned his hands on the counter, dripping his head. He hated not knowing where Chris and Vin were, or what they were doing. It had been a succession of stressful weeks since they had disappeared. Every time the phone rang, his heart stopped beating. The thought that any of those calls delivered the news that one or both men were dead was almost too much for the big-hearted ladies man to bear.

Glancing out the window, he frowned. Someone's headlights were shining in the late evening gloom. That made no sense, as the others had been there since just after noon. Then he heard something... someone... outside. A barely audible call reached him.

"Help.'

Long years of friendship allowed him to know for certain that the call had come from Chris. With a strangled curse, he moved to the back door. Despite his concern for the man who had been a friend far longer than a boss, he stopped. Looking cautiously into the shadows, he waited until he was fairly sure that things were safe. Slipping out the door, he called out, "Chris?"

"Buck... help," the plea came once again.

He saw them then, Chris struggling toward the house with Vin in his arms. He ran to meet them, reaching the two men just as Larabee's strength gave out. Fighting to keep Tanner in his arms, the blond began to crumple to the ground. Wilmington caught them, keeping them both from falling too hard. Together, the three men settled in the grass.

"My God, stud, what th' hell happened?" He could see the patchwork of bruises and bloodied bandages that covered Vin's body. When he had grasped his old friend, he felt the thick bandage on the lean side and heard the pain-filled gasp.

"L-long... story," Chris mumbled, leaning heavily against the big man.

"Tell me later. C'mon, let's get you 'n Junior inside. Nate's here, reckon he'll wanna get 'cha t' th' hospital."

''Kay," Larabee sighed. He didn't care where they took him or what they did to him, he was just happy to be home. Chris was only too glad to turn over any more decision-making to the other team members.

Buck lifted the unconscious Tanner from the other man's arms and managed to get them all back off the ground. Chris slowly managed to straighten himself, and stumbled tiredly beside his friend. They managed to get to the big redwood deck just as things got more complicated. The long hours and blood loss finally took their toll.

"Buck... I... oh..." Larabee groaned as his legs once more gave out.

Wilmington could only watch helplessly as Chris collapsed to the deck, tugging at his arm as he fell. Then he yelled through the open door, " I need some help out here, now!"

Inside, the other four agents, as well as the ladies who had joined them for the day, jumped to their feet at the agitated note in the big man's voice. As they pushed out the door, the sight that greeted them stopped them all cold. Josiah, in the doorway, had the presence of mind to turn on the outside light. As he did, he whispered, "oh dear Lord."

Buck was standing there, an unconscious, badly beaten and almost nude Vin in his arms. At his feet, Chris was struggling to pull himself upright.

"Jees, what happened?" JD Dunne asked in a tone of shock.

"Long st-story," Chris said once more.

Ezra, closest to the wounded agent, helped him to his feet. "I'm certain it will be quite an interesting one, as well. For now, let's get you inside. I think you'll find the furnishings in the den more comfortable than this deck."

JD slipped to the older agent's other side, carefully pulling Chris' arm over his shoulder. Josiah helped Buck take Vin inside, while Nathan called for an ambulance.

Carrying them into the den, they found Raine and Casey already moving things out of the way, and Nettie Wells entered with blankets just as they settled Vin on the couch. Handing one blanket to Casey, she gently draped the other over Tanner.

Ezra and JD settled Chris in his recliner, stepping back so Casey could spread the blanket over him.

Vin could hear a ruckus going on around him, but wasn't certain he could open his one cooperative eye to see what was going on. Then he felt a hand gently caressing his aching jaw, and knew that it wasn't Larabee.

Nettie saw the marred features pull into a frown, and knew that the young man she looked on as a son was conscious to some degree. Swallowing the fear that had taken up residence in her chest during the last several minutes, she continued to tenderly caress the beaten man. "Vin honey, it's all right now son. You're safe. Just lay still, we're going to take care of you."

Finally managing to open his eye, Tanner struggled, finally grating out in a harsh whisper, "Mzzz Neddie."

Smiling, the older woman said, "that's right. Now you hush, no more talking. Lord knows it's got to hurt... it hurts to listen to you."

The young agent managed to raise his right arm and grip her hand. He held onto her, feeling the warmth of her touch.

Across the room, Chris was being bombarded with questions. Nathan was carefully checking his wound, while the others hovered nearby. They were giving Nettie a few minutes with Vin, and he was paying for it. Finally he held up his hand for silence. "Look I'll fill you all in later, all right? I'm t-tired right now."

"It's a wonder you're even conscious," Jackson commented. "From the looks of it, you've lost a lot of blood, Chris. The wound itself isn't bad, but you're going to have to take it easy for a few days."

Buck laughed at the pronouncement. "I'll just bet he will, too."

Glaring at his friend, Chris said, "I'm gonna sleep for... a week."

With another hearty laugh, the mustached agent said, "hey Ezra, y' wanna make book on how long he does manage to rest?"

Snorting sarcastically, the Southerner said, "I would never bet against a sure thing, and I say he'll be sneaking out of bed by morning."

Standish wasn't far off the mark. The next afternoon found Chris Larabee slipping into the critical care unit and searching out Vin's room, trailing an IV stand along with him. Finally locating the injured man, he looked the young agent over from just inside the door. Tanner's arm and ankle were encased in soft casts until the swelling went down. He was happy to see that they had managed to get some of the swelling out of his face, as well, the chiseled features almost recognizable. He was covered to the chin in blankets, and finally looked warm. Larabee had gotten as much information from the doctor as he could, and knew that there was some concern that the agent could still develop pneumonia. They were taking all the steps possible to fight it, though, and they were all hopeful that he would be all right.

Sensing a presence nearby, the tortured agent forced his eyes open. He was just glad that he could get them both open now, even if it was only part way. Vin smiled as he realized who it was, but wasn't surprised. Tanner had been expecting his friend since he had regained consciousness that morning. Chuckling when Larabee shuffled farther into the room, pulling an IV stand after him, he said, "go'n fer a walk?"

His handsome face breaking into a broad grin, the blond said, "thought I'd come down to see if I could find a nurse. Figured they'd all be in here falling all over themselves to take care of your sorry ass."

Feigning a sigh, Tanner said, "think I los' m' looks... ain' b...een a one here."

Chuckling as he eased himself into the bedside chair, Chris quipped, "don't see much of a change, myself."

"Funny man." The team sharpshooter growled softly. Then he sobered and said, "thanks, C'ris."

"For what? Not watching your back?" There was still anger, directed toward himself, in the man's voice.

"No, dammi', fer sav'n m' ass." Despite the still swollen features and the half-closed eyes, he did a fair imitation of his friend's renowned glare. "Now, y' s'op feel'n sorry fer yersel', y' hear? I ain' so far gone I cain' gid up 'n kick yer ass."

Despite his sullen mood, the other man couldn't help but laugh. "Don't doubt it for a minute, Tanner."

Nodding in satisfaction, the bedfast man smiled. He slid his arm from beneath the blankets and held it out toward the other man. Still chuckling, Larabee pulled himself up and grasped the offered arm.

"Now... thank you, C'ris Lara'ee... fer sa'n m' ass."

Gripping the man's arm warmly, Chris replied, "you're welcome, Vin Tanner.

The End