The Hunt
ATF Virtual Season
By krh

Rating: PG13 for some language and violence

Disclaimers: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings.

The cities (Scottsbluff, Chadron, and Rushville) and counties (Sioux and Scotts Bluff) in the story are actual places in western Nebraska. Geographic location and descriptions of these are hopefully accurate (if memory - and the map - serves me correctly). However, any similarities between characters in the story and actual people or businesses in these towns are the result of coincidence and are not intentional.

Notes: Although all of the seven are in it, this is definitely a Nathan story - and he doesn't apply a single bandage anywhere in it! (I think I used all his bandages up in earlier works anyway. <g>) There are various OC that flitter in and out of the story, but donšt worry - no one stays for long.

My thanks for Lady Angel for her feedback and encouragement, and to Dina for once again providing her talented beta skills. The medical references are from information gathered from two sisters who have almost 50 years of nursing experience between them.

Enjoy and please let me know what you think.

Karen (krh)

krh

All Disclaimers apply.



*****************

ATF: The Hunt
by krh

Driving down the two lane black top, Deputy Nick Thomas' attention was drawn to the reflection of his headlights off of a vehicle on the side of the deserted two lane blacktop. Slowing and turning around, the officer pulled behind the white Chevy and shone his search light onto it. Seeing no license plate on the back of the vehicle, he frowned. Radioing in his location, Thomas eased out of his cruiser and focused his flashlight before slowly advancing towards the truck. He didn't like this. An abandoned vehicle out here... it couldn't be good.

Nearing the driver's side door, Thomas tensed and laid his hand on his weapon when he saw the shape of a person's head leaning against the window. Shining the light inside the cab, he noticed that the glove compartment was open and its contents strewn across the floor. Besides the maps and assorted papers, he also saw an empty gun holster.

Stepping back from the door, Thomas pulled his gun and positioned it in front of him before he slapped the side of the truck and yelled, "Scotts Bluff Sheriff's Department. Let me see your hands and come out of the truck nice and easy."

After a few seconds and seeing no signs of movement, Thomas inched his way forwards, his eyes never leaving the man inside. Resting his fingers on the door latch, he drew a deep breath before yanking the door open and jumping back. Slowly the man inside slipped to the ground as the truck door wavered and creaked in the breeze.

Flipping the flashlight downward, Thomas lowered his gun in shock as the beam halted upon the unknown man's chest and the knife buried deep within it.

********

"Type and cross match, CBC, blood gases, bilateral chest X-rays and get the OR ready," called out Justin Taylor, the emergency room doctor at the Western Medical Center in Scottsbluff, as he listened to the stabbing victim's chest and heart. From the amount of blood in the clothing, the man had lost about half of the amount in his body. Flipping his stethoscope over his head, the doctor looked back to the deputy standing in doorway. "Any idea who this guy is?"

"No identification on him or in the vehicle. We're running the V.I.N. right now," Thomas explained. He had barely finished when the sound of a knock caused him to step away from it as it opened slowly.

Sticking his head inside to make sure it was clear, Sheriff Greg Wademan stepped inside the room. Acknowledging his deputy, Wademan nodded towards the patient being prepared for surgery as he handed a file to the doctor. "He's a federal agent by the name of Josiah Sanchez."

************

The shrill ringing of the telephone penetrated Chris Larabee's sleep. Untangling himself from Mary Travis and the covers, he finally found the offending instrument as his mind registered the fact that the clock said 2:30. "Hello," he mumbled, his voice rough and scratchy with grogginess.

The words being said brought him upright and snapped all sleepiness from his mind. "What?" he finally said, disbelief echoing in his voice. After a few seconds, Chris threw the covers aside and flipped on the beside lamp. Grabbing the note pad and pen from the drawer, he cradled the phone on his shoulder. "What's the number?...Got it... No, don't. I'll get a hold of him...Okay," Chris said, slowly setting the receiver back onto it's cradle.

"Chris?" Mary questioned, sitting up and placing her hand on the back of the man sitting on the side of the bed with his head bowed. "What's wrong?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, Chris drew in a ragged breath. "Josiah. A Sheriff's deputy found him half dead on a road in Nebraska. Last word is that he's in surgery."

"Josiah?" Mary asked in shock, shaking her head in disbelief. "Wait a minute, isn't he on vacation?"

Snatching up the receiver, Chris breathed, "Yeah, he is," as he waited for the call he had just dialed to go through. When it did, he spoke into the receiver. "Nathan, Chris...."

***********

Pushing up the sleeve on his jacket, Nathan Jackson glanced anxiously at his watch. It had been five hours since they had reached the hospital in Scottsbluff. Repeated calls during the drive up had assured them that Josiah had held his own through the surgery. And it had helped the ex-medic to confirm it by seeing his friend and partner for himself. But now, sitting in the ICU waiting area, he couldn't help but wonder who had done this.

'I should of been with him,' Nathan thought, guilt weighing heavily on him. Josiah had asked him several times to spend the week with him. It seemed he had a favorite hunting spot, nestled deep in the sandhills that the profiler promised was a "little piece of heaven on earth."

But Nathan had declined, instead opting for a quiet week at home. 'Just gonna kick back and catch up on some reading' he remembered telling his partner, pretending he didn't see the disappointment reflected in the other's eyes.

Conceding, Josiah had climbed into his pickup and waved once as he pulled away from the curb. That had been the last words ever spoken between the two. The thought that they could of been the last ones shook Nathan to the soul and brought tears to his eyes. Not wanting Chris to see them, he quickly stood up and moved to window.

Catching the nervous fidgeting from his incendiary specialist, Chris guessed as to the cause of Nathan's restlessness: he, too, had begun to feel the uselessness of sitting in the hospital waiting area. They should be out looking for whoever had done this. He had thought of a thousand different scenarios in which the big man could have run into that would have resulted in him getting hurt. Only trouble was that all those possibilities seemed somehow improbable given that he was on vacation.

Checking his own watch, a mirthless smile cracked Chris' face. The forensics team from the State Patrol was going over the pickup this morning looking for any clues as to who the attacker or attackers may have been. More importantly, a telephone call had confirmed that the rest of the team was on their way.

Tossing the file folder in his hand onto the low table before him, Chris sighed. The initial reports said that Josiah's attack appeared to be a random robbery that had turned into attempted murder. But Larabee didn't believe it. It left too many unanswered questions. Like why had the attackers gone to such great lengths to take his identification, yet leave him where he could be found? And why had Josiah been in the area so late at night? Shifting as the unanswered questions continued to spin his mind, Chris resolutely stamped out his growing impatience with one thought.

It would not be long before they would be on the hunt.

************

Squinting into the harsh glare, Vin Tanner dipped his head to avoid the flying dust and sand being kicked up by the wind as he walked the perimeter of the area where Josiah's truck had been found. Kneeling, the sharpshooter traced his fingers across the tire tracks pressed into the ground. Seeing the others heading his way, he picked up a clod of dirt and crumpled it while waiting.

"No skid marks," Ezra Standish relayed, coming to a halt beside Vin and looking at the bent grass and disturbed ground. "But if I'm not mistaken, a vehicle has been through here."

"Full size truck with duels," Vin said, nodding his head as the others joined him. "Josiah's truck was over there, right?" Tanner clarified pointing to the spot approximately 50 feet away. "Any of your guys pull in here?" Vin asked Thomas, pointing to the tracks at his feet as he stood up. Seeing a negative shake of the deputy's head, Vin looked towards Ezra. "You still got that casting kit in your car?"

Pulling the keys from his pocket, Standish was about to move when Thomas volunteered to get it. Handing the keys to the younger man, Ezra told him which case to bring.

The young deputy turned and eagerly trotted back to the vehicles lined up on the side of the road. He had never had the chance to work with federal agents before and even he had heard of these agents. He never dreamed he'd have the chance to work with them. And now that he had, he was going to do anything he could to help.

"Does anyone have any idea why Josiah would of been out here? His motel must be a good fifty miles away," Buck Wilmington queried, scanning the valley to the east side of the hill.

Shaking his head, Chris scanned the empty countryside as well. "Nathan said he called Tuesday and left a message that he was having a good time. Said he'd met some people who were going to take him hunting on some land up north and he'd try to call again later in the week." Cutting his eyes back to the young deputy handing Vin and Ezra the hard sided black case and keys, he asked, "Thomas, any idea where Josiah could of been talking about?"

The young man blew out a long breath. "Up north?" he said, taking off his hat and mopping the sweat from his brow. "Between here and the state line, there's over 2,000 square miles of land, most of it like this... hilly, dry and windy. With the range open like this, you can hunt just about anywhere. Would be hard to say without something to narrow the possibilities."

"Maybe there's something in Josiah's room that'll help," JD Dunne offered hopefully.

Shifting, Chris pursed his lips. "JD, you and Buck head up to Chadron and check it out. Vin and Ezra, you two see what they found in the truck. I'll ship this off to Denver and start a trace on Josiah's credit cards. Maybe we'll get lucky and whoever's got 'em will slip up."

Walking back to the vehicles, Buck held up his cellular towards the deputy. "How long till we get near some towers?"

"About twenty miles or so either way," Thomas said, pausing by his squad car. "If it's an emergency, I could have a land line patched through the radio for you," he offered.

"No, that's okay. Thanks," Wilmington said, turning towards Chris standing beside his truck. "Call us if he wakes up."

*************

Standing up straighter in a vain attempt to lessen the ache in his back, Nathan once again ran experienced eyes over the various monitors hooked to his partner and friend. 'Vitals are strong,' Nathan thought, pleased with the readings. Turning his eyes back to the bed's occupant, the smile that had pulled at his lips faded. 'So Josiah, when are you going to wake up and let us know who did this to you?'

Easing back into the chair, Nathan laid his hand on Josiah's arm. He wanted to let him know he was there, and it gave him comfort also. He could feel the relaxed muscles and weathered skin. It still surprised him how big, yet gentle, the man was.

He remembered the first time he had seen Josiah. He was on the Kansas City Police Force serving as an incendiary specialist. He had been called in on a hostage situation. A man had strapped five people to a pile of explosives. A sixth hostage had been injured and the negotiator had arranged for the injured person to be taken out. Given his training as a medic, it was Nathan's job to go get him and to get a better look at the bomb if possible.

Only trouble was that once inside, Nathan realized that there was no way he was going to be able to carry the man out by himself. When the hostage taker heard this, he went berserk and started shooting at the injured man and Nathan, accusing the negotiator of tricking him. Trying to protect himself while dragging the injured hostage to safety, the medic barely saw the huge blur that flew past him to tackle the kidnapper.

When the sounds of struggling where stopped by the sound of a gunshot, Nathan tore his eyes from the bleeding chest of his patient to stare wide eyed towards the giant of a man whose arms were engulfing the suspect. Slowly, the big man eased the hostage taker to the ground and kneeled beside him. Placing his fingers on the man's throat, he reached up and placed his hand over the man's eyes, shutting his lids. After doing so, he held up the weapon in his hand and looked at it with a combination of disgust and respect, before finally locking eyes with the medic.

Nathan could still remember the sadness he saw reflected in Josiah's eyes at that moment. That evening, he had run into the big man, who had been both negotiator and savior, at the bar and bought him a drink. Eight beers and a couple of hours later, the two men had formed a friendship that was still solid.

When Nathan had decided he was going to leave the KCPD and join Larabee's team, he recruited his friend to come with him. He had never regretted that move. They quickly discovered that they were natural partners, each knowing what the other was going to do before they did it.

Inadvertently, they soon found themselves in an unexpected role in the team.They were the calming influences that balanced the high strung antics or seething anger of the others. Together, through Nathan's medical knowledge and Josiah's spiritual and psychological knowledge, they had held their group together in situations that had caused other teams to crumble.

Nathan couldn't help but wonder how the others were doing without their influence now. Squeezing the arm beneath his hand, Nathan again looked up at the monitors. 'Come on Josiah. It's time to wake up. The guys need us.'

*************

Coming down the long hill leading to the t-crossing at the edge of Chadron, Buck flipped on his turn signal to the right. The new sound combined with the slowing of the vehicle awoke the younger man with him.

"We there?" JD asked sleepily, trying to discern his surroundings without being quite awake.

"Are now," Buck replied, negotiating the curves leading to the hotel. Pulling to a halt outside of the Super8, he ran appraising eyes over the older two story building. 'It fits ya, Josiah. Nothing fancy, but clean and well kept,' Buck thought. Getting out of the truck, he waited for JD to join him.

"Did you hear from Chris?" JD asked, walking around the truck to look at the man who was his friend, partner, and brother.

Shaking his head, Buck saw the worry etched into JD somber face. "Here now. You heard the doctor this morning. Josiah's gonna be fine," the mustached man said lightly. "He's probably awake and raisin' hell by now keepin' Nathan too busy to let any of us know."

Snorting, JD wished Buck had been a little more convincing in his tone. He wasn't fooled by the lighthearted approach. The big man was as worried about their friend as he was. Refusing to add to Buck's burden, even inadvertently, JD forced his features to relax. "Yeah, you're right. If the anesthetic wigs him out like Kentucky Bourbon does, then I feel sorry for those poor nurses."

Clamping his hand on JD's shoulder, Buck grinned. "Come on. Let's get his stuff so we can go back and save 'em."

*************

Standing inside the metal building used by the State Patrol as an impound yard, Ezra had to give it to the officers in their thoroughness. They had dusted every surface and vacuumed every inch of the big truck. 'Something that had not been done in quite some time,' the ATF agent thought, seeing the various sacks of debris that would now have to be combed through.

But the effort put forth in the examination had not been futile. A portion of an unidentified print had been found on a door panel. If they could find a suspect, it could link the person with the vehicle at least.

Exiting out of the cab, Vin stopped at the table holding the various objects gathered from the truck and picked up the empty holster. Holding it up, he looked at the officer cataloging each item. Talking briefly with the officer, Vin leaned over and initialed the log sheet behind the holster's description and jotted down his badge number. Tossing the pen back down, he finally walked towards Ezra.

"Josiah won't like it that his gun is gone," Vin said, halting beside his partner.

"You gave him that didn't you?" Ezra asked quietly, watching the emotions flicker across the sharpshooter's face as he absentmindedly toyed with the smooth leather holster in his hand.

Nodding a confirmation, Vin sighed. "For his birthday last year. Had a hecka of a time getting it made in time. Was going to have it engraved, but couldn't decide what to put on it that wouldn't give away he was a cop." Pausing a moment, Vin rotated the holder until he could see inside of it. "So, I just decided on this," he added, holding it up so Ezra could see. Looking at the one word inscription, Ezra swallowed hard. From this man, giving a gift with such a declaration would be the greatest treasure he could give. Mentally sighing, Standish hoped that one day Vin might grace him with the word "friend."

Slipping his sunglasses back on his face, Ezra clamped down on the feelings rising in him. "Let's go give it back to him."

*************

Plopping the telephone receiver back into its cradle, Chris ran a hand over his tired face. Calls to the credit card companies had been unproductive as no activity had been noted in Josiah's accounts in the last 36 hours. Additional calls to the Denver office had alerted the lab to expect the tire cast that had been sent as well as to updating Assistant Director Orrin Travis on the situation. A call to Nathan had confirmed that Josiah was improving but still unconscious. The doctor's had ordered a CAT scan to make sure he hadn't sustained an undetected head injury during the incident.

Having completed all of his calls, Chris' mind began registering a heaviness in his limbs and the slowing of his movements. His body was beginning to rebel against being up so long. He could use a couple hours sleep, but he wanted to hear what the others had found out first.

Pulling himself upright, Chris picked up the empty coffee mug from the desk and moved across the room towards the coffee. Walking past Thomas, he nodded to the young lawman who was finally getting to his own paperwork.

Leaning against the counter, Chris ran his eyes over the small room of desks that lay beyond him. Watching the handful of officers working in it, Chris thought about his own days as a police officer. Although it hadn't seemed like it at the time, his life had been much simpler then. There was not the weight of responsibility that came from being a team leader.

"Agent Larabee?"

Looking at Deputy Thomas rising from his desk across the room, he quietly sipped his coffee and waited until the young officer stopped beside him holding out a piece of paper.

"You might want to see this," Thomas said, handing it to Chris. "It's from the Sheriff in Sioux County."

Reading the telephone message handed to him, Chris looked up sharply, his earlier fatigue erased by the adrenalin of finally having a solid lead. "Which way is Harrison?"

Returning the stare being leveled at him, Thomas said simply, "North."

*************

"So, after that, you didn't hear anymore from him?" Chris asked into the telephone pressed to his head as he walked into the lobby of the hospital. Spotting two members of his team, he signaled for them to wait. "I see. Thank you," he said, preparing to hang up. Flipping the phone closed, Chris tucked it into the holder on his belt. "What'd you find out?" the team leader asked, coming to a halt in front of Ezra and Vin.

"Besides the fact that Mr. Sanchez's vehicle is in desperate need of the services of a good detailer, nothing much," Ezra drawled dryly.

Nudging the southerner, Vin interrupted anything else he might have been going to say. "Partial index print. Enough to make a match if we find the guy. Lab still going over the papers and stuff. What about you?"

"Was just talking to the sheriff in the county north of here. Seems Josiah went to visit him yesterday asking about a man named Martin Clayborne," Chris said, leading the trio into the elevator.

"And?" Ezra asked tensely, trying to calm his excitement at finally having a solid lead to use.

Shaking his head, Chris continued. "Sheriff didn't say much. Clayborne's lived just outside of Rushville all his life. Never been arrested of anything, but has been suspected of a few times of selling marijuana, petty theft, stuff like that."

"So why'd Josiah want to know about him?" Vin queried, pausing at the doorway leading to the intensive care unit.

"Sheriff didn't know. Said he told Josiah the same things I just told you and Josiah thanked him and left," Chris said. "Guess we'll have to ask him when he wakes up."

Moving quietly into the room, all three sets of eyes settled on the big man in the bed for a few seconds before darting between the monitors and the man slumped in the chair beside the bed. Laying his hand on Nathan's shoulder, Chris shook it lightly, being careful not to startle the man.

"Nathan?"

Opening sleepy eyes, Nathan sat up straighter in the chair clearing his throat. "Hey, guys," he greeted his team mates before rubbing his face to dissipate the last semblance of sleep from it.

"How's he doing?" Ezra asked softly, moving to the other side of the bed and looking down at Josiah's still form. Swallowing hard at the sight of the pale features of the gentle giant, the con man found it hard to keep the concern from his face.

Josiah had always accepted the southerner into his 'fold,' protecting him against all types of attacks, whether verbal or physical in nature. His dry sense of humor, combined with his extensive knowledge of history, literature, philosophy and psychology, had led the pair to engage in many hours of lively discussion and debate. Ezra hadn't realized how much he had come to take that for granted. The profiler was so rarely injured that it was easy to believe that it couldn't happen. 'You certainly shattered that illusion,' Ezra thought, squeezing the older man's arm while listening to Nathan.

"Doctor still says he's holding his own. Spiked a low grade fever, but they were expectin' that to happen. They started another transfusion on him to raise his blood count and some more antibiotic. Haven't heard anything about the CAT scan yet."

"He say anything or wake up?" Vin queried, leaning on the foot board and staring at the rhythm of the heartbeat displayed on the monitor.

Shaking his head, Nathan laid his hand on Josiah's. "No," he answered, sadness evident in his voice. "He opened his eyes once, but he wasn't really awake."

Gripping Nathan's shoulder, Chris silently tried to give him strength and comfort. He knew all too well what Nathan was feeling.

Glancing back at Chris, Nathan silently thanked him before asking, "You guys find out anything?"

"Maybe," Chris replied. "Josiah was asking around about a guy in a town north of here. We're going to run up there tomorrow and see what we can find out."

"Hopefully Buck and JD will be back soon and have something too," Vin added.

"In the mean time, gentlemen, I suggest Mr. Jackson go out for a bite to eat before we have to visit two patients," Ezra said, running assessing eyes over the former medic's face. When Nathan looked up at the southerner with resistance in his eyes, Ezra added softly, "I'll stay with him."

Locking eyes with Ezra, Nathan waged a war with himself. It wasn't that he minded Ezra staying with Josiah, it was just that he wanted to be there when his friend woke up.

Seeing the conflict, Ezra smiled slightly. "I'll call if there is any change in his condition. You should be able to make it back before he wakes up."

Letting his gratitude reflect in his gaze, Nathan stood up. "Chair ain't too bad... for the first minute or so," he retorted, stepping away from it to allow Standish to sit down.

*********

Pulling the plastic bag containing a creased piece of paper from his shirt pocket, JD again tried to decipher the lines on it. Tracing the longest line, he detoured onto the black line that gracefully arched away from it. Shaking his head as it didn't make any sense, JD slowly rotated the paper.

Glancing sideways, Buck noticed the deep frown on his partner's face as he cocked his head at various angles while looking at the paper in his hands. Looking back at the road, he could understand JD's confusion. Like the younger man, he couldn't figure out why Josiah had put the paper into an evidence bag and carefully tuck it into his suitcase.

The rhythmic tone of a cellular caused Buck and JD to start. Throwing each other a sheepish look, both men shifted in their seats as Buck handed JD the phone.

"Hello... Hey, Chris... Just a couple papers and a bag from the...," JD moved his hand blindly, groping on the seat beside him for a white sack. Finding it, he held it up in the fading light and squinted, reading the name on it. "Firth Pharmacy in Rushville." Slowly, JD dropped his arm as he listened to his leader. "Really? Did you run him?...Okay. Yeah, we're on the way back. How's Josiah?" JD glanced out the side windows and watched the shadows dancing in the twilight as he listened. After a few seconds he glanced at Buck and shook his head in answer to his silent question. "And they don't know why?" Silence again descended as the frown on JD's face deepened. "Okay. We'll be there in about...," JD paused as he maneuvered his arm where he could see his watch, "20 minutes. Bye."

Handing the cell phone back to Buck, JD sighed. "Josiah opened his eyes a couple times but he still hasn't woken up. The tests they ran didn't show anything. Doctor thinks he ain't awake cause he don't want to be," he explained. Sharing a look of skepticism with his big brother, JD continued. "Chris got a lead on a guy Josiah was asking a Sheriff up in Rushville," he said, holding up the pharmacy bag, "about. Some of us are gonna run up there tomorrow and check it out."

"Where are they now?" Buck asked, glancing at this own watch.

"Ez is with Josiah. Chris and Vin drug Nathan out of the hospital to get a bite to eat. Said we should join 'em at the Four Spokes," Dunne finished, looking again out the window.

Seeing the younger man slump dejectedly in his seat, Buck reached across and laid his hand on JD's shoulder. Squeezing it, he waited until JD turned his head before saying, "Josiah's just catchin' up on some sleep. And with Chris getting on the trail of a guy who might have something to do with hurtin' him, it won't be long before we get some answers." When JD nodded his agreement, Buck let his hand slide off JD's shoulder. Draping it back over the top of the steering wheel, he sent a silent prayer into the night that he was right.

*************

Shifting on the chair that Nathan was sure had become implanted into his body, he slowly stood and moved to the doorway of the room. Looking at the clock on the wall above the nurses stations, he shook his head slowly. He was now hitting the twenty-four hour mark. Twenty-four hours since the call had come telling him that Josiah had been hurt. Twenty-four hours of taunt nerves, little sleep, and self recrimination for not being there to protect him. Twenty-four lousy hours.

It felt longer.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Jackson? Can I get you something?"

Starting at the sound of the nurse's voice, Nathan glanced guilty at her. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"I asked if you were all right," she explained kindly, understanding his inattentiveness. "Can I get you a blanket? Pillow? Cup of coffee?" she asked, looking into his face to let him know she would gladly help him any way she could.

"No," Nathan answered. "No, thank you. I'm fine. Just stretching." Smiling tightly at the nurse beside him, Nathan turned and moved back to the side of the bed.

Slumping back into the chair, Nathan laid his hand back in Josiah's. He suddenly sat up straighter when the hand beneath his tightened its grip ever so slightly. Looking at the hand and then at the face of the man, he anxiously leaned forward. "Josiah?"

Watching as the big man moved his head at the sound of his voice, Nathan stood up and leaned over him. "Come on, Josiah. Open them eyes now," he intoned softly, squeezing the injured man's hand to further stimulate his senses.

As the profiler struggled through the last vestiges of the darkness that had encompassed him, Nathan held his breath. When the blue eyes of the gentle giant finally fluttered open, he watched as they tried to focus on the unfamiliar surroundings. As a crease of confusion appeared on his forehead, Nathan moved closer into his range of vision.

"Hey, partner," Nathan said, when he saw recognition in the big man's eyes. "Hell of a vacation you been on." When Josiah moved his head almost imperceptively in a nod, Nathan could see him fighting the darkness that once again wanted to claim him. "You're gonna be all right," he soothed, laying a hand on his partner's head. "You go back to sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up."

Hurrying into the waiting area, Nathan felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from him. Through the muted light, he made out the shape of the five men sprawled across couches that were too short and in recliners that had seen better days. Crouching beside the first one he came to, Nathan gently shook the sleeping form.

Groggily, Ezra opened one eye. When he saw it was Nathan beside him, he shot upright. "Nathan? Is Josiah all right?" he asked apprehensively. The sound and urgency of his voice roused the others.

Holding up his hands to calm the men struggling to get up, Nathan finally allowed the grin that had been threatening to erupt to make its appearance. "He woke up and he knew me," he said, continuing his smile as it was matched by the five men surrounding him.

***********

Trailing into the hospital room after stealing a few hours sleep at a motel, the agents surrounded the bed's occupant, each scrutinizing him to assess for themselves Josiah's status. It was obvious he was doing better for they had switched him from the oxygen mask to the nasal tubing and had discontinued several of the machines in the room. Having run into the doctor on the way in, they also knew he was going to be moved out of ICU that morning to a standard bed. If he kept improving at his current rate, he would be out in four or five days.

"Don't look too bad for a guy who was ringing the doorbell at the pearly gates," Buck proclaimed, stopping at Josiah's shoulder and leaning on the railing.

"Yeah, well, decided I wasn't dressed appropriately to go in," Josiah answered back, raising the bed a little so that he could see all of his teammates. Stopping his perusal on his leader, Josiah shrugged slightly. "Tried to take a few days off, boss."

"Can you tell us who did this to you, Josiah?" Chris asked, nodding to acknowledge the profiler's statement.

"Clayborne," Josiah answered, shifting slightly in bed.

"Martin Clayborne?" JD asked, remembering the name of the man Josiah had been asking about in Rushville.

Nodding, Josiah continued. "That's him. Running a meth lab out of one of the sheds on his property."

"You see it?" Vin queried, wondering how a hunting trip turned into a narc recon.

"Even got pictures," Josiah stressed. "Soon as you develop that disposable camera...." Seeing the blank looks on the others face, he ran his eyes from man to man. "Didn't you find the camera?"

"It was not in the truck when you were found," Ezra explained. "We can add it to the list of items that will need to be recovered when we find your perpetrator," he added dryly, glancing at the others.

"List? What else is missing?" Josiah asked, a deep frown etching into his forehead as a heavy feeling sank into his gut. "My gun?"

Nodding slowly, Nathan affirmed that as being one of the items. "And your badge," the ex-medic added softly. "Took everything that could identify you. License plates, billfold, everything."

"Why'd you suspect Clayborne was running a meth lab?" Vin asked, trying to divert the profiler from his dark thoughts. No cop liked the thought that his gun was on the street and could be used to hurt innocents.

"Stumbled upon it by accident. Was hunting and smelled it. Headed back to Rushville and bought a camera at the drugstore. Decided I'd wait til dark before going back, so I went back to the hotel to get cleaned up and rest," Sanchez explained. "Got back there just at dusk, took the pictures and hightailed it out of there. Was on my way down to Scottsbluff to get them developed and to call in the state police when I saw a car broken down on the side of the road."

"Let me guess, a pretty woman?" Chris offered, jumping ahead in the story.

"With a child," Josiah added, defending his choice to stop. "In the middle of no where, after dark, what would you have done?" As Chris conceded the point with a curt nod, Josiah continued. "Was hooking up the baby in the seatbelt when a guy came from nowhere. He reached in the truck and I grabbed him. Then he stabbed me. That's the last thing I remember."

"That's pretty cold walkin' up and stabbin' a man while a woman and baby are there," Buck intoned flatly.

"Unless they were part of it," Ezra stated the obvious, not liking the implication any more than Buck.

"We'll find out - one way or the other," Chris said. "Can you give us a description of the woman and the guy who stabbed you, and tell us how to get to the lab?" Waiting until Josiah nodded, Chris continued. "Good. Buck, you call the Sheriff up in Rushville and the State Police. Have them get the necessary warrants and to be on standby in case we need them."

"Wait a minute," JD interjected. "I have a question. What is this?" he asked, holding up the evidence bag with the folded piece of paper with several lines drawn on it.

"A map," Josiah answered. "To Clayborne's place."

************

Standing in the tree line south of Clayborne's homestead, Chris used binoculars to peruse the four small out sheds and to pick out the advancement of his agents as well as the location of the unsuspecting men in the yard. "One by the south shed, one at the corral," he relayed to his team. Lowering the binoculars long enough to look at the picture in his pocket, he raised the glasses to once again scan the grounds. "No sign of Clayborne. He must be... WAIT. There he is, coming out of the north shed," he reported, venom dripping from his voice. Following the suspect's movements, Chris' voice dropped to a growl. "I want him alive."

************

Acknowledging Chris' order, Buck signaled to JD for him to hold up while he went ahead. Nearing the eastern shed, the big man darted his head around the corner to locate the suspects. Pressing his body back against the wall, he motioned to JD that no one was close by and for him to head around the other way.

Across the small farmstead, Nathan and Vin paralleled their partners' movements. Halting on the back side of a small hill, the pair surveyed the scene before them. Easing up, they moved towards the closest outbuilding. Using it to shield their movements, Vin headed to one side as Nathan moved to the other.

Coming around the front corner, Vin placed his gun in the neck of the man working there. "Freeze. Federal agent," he whispered in the man's ear. When the man held his hands away from his body, Vin held him in place until Nathan came around the other side and cuffed him.

Forcing him to sit down, Nathan snapped one side of the handcuffs onto the man's wrist and pulled the other arm around the electrical pole beside the building before snapping the other side shut. Standing up, he nodded to Vin before both men headed towards the paddock to backup Ezra.

**************

Slipping his gun under his shirt, Ezra moved into sight as if he had been running and unaware that anyone was in the area. Pulling up sharply at the sight of the man before him, Ezra held out his hand toward the suspect. "Oh, thank god I finally found someone," he said breathlessly, taking a few steps closer. "My comrades and I were in the area and there was a terrible accident," he said in explanation.

Grunting in acknowledgement, the man turned to run his eyes over the newcomer. "What happened?" he asked, not seeing any blood or injuries on the man.

"Seems that something hit him on the back of the head...," the southerner trailed off as the man he was speaking to slumped to the ground. Looking up, Ezra allowed a slow smile to creep across his face as he looked at the cause of the suspect's unconsciousness. "Why, Mr. Tanner, however are we going to explain this to Mr. Larabee?"

Grinning back at him, Vin shook his head before turning towards the north shed. Behind him, Ezra and Nathan followed.

*********

Chewing on his bottom lip, Chris watched as two of the three suspects in the yard were subdued. Turning his attention back to the north shed, his eyes again narrowed as he watched the man who had stabbed Josiah - Martin Clayborne - turn and move back inside the small outbuilding. Shifting his position, Chris could make out movement inside the building through the small window on the side.

Looking away from the building, he located each of the five agents slowly advancing. Movement in the doorway of the shed drew his attention back to the suspect. Frowning, Chris put the binoculars up again to decide what Clayborne was doing. Realizing the meaning of the man's hand movements, Chris' heart leapt into his throat.

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Chris roared into the headset as he watched Clayborne suddenly dart from the building. In just a few seconds, the building exploded, sending bits of wood and metal flying through the air as it became a giant fireball, mushrooming skyward.

Blinking back the tears caused by the fireball that had been magnified in front of his eyes, Chris barely made out the disappearing form of a man running hell bent for leather into the countryside.

It was Nathan Jackson.

***********
Standing on the small hill overlooking the area that had been a small farmstead, Sheriff Richard North ran his hand through his snow white hair in disbelief. Below him, federal agents and State Patrol Troopers were setting up for a manhunt while volunteer firefighters were attempting to put out the small fires that had been caused by the shed exploding, showering embers and burning chemicals in a hundred foot radius. It should have been a simple arrest. Instead, it had turned into a three ring circus.

Adjusting his grip on the rifle in his hand, North descended the hill. Coming to a halt among the chaos, he snagged the sleeve of a passing trooper. "Which one is Larabee?"

"Over there, blue shirt," the trooper responded, pointing towards the group of men at the makeshift command center beside the ambulance.

Nodding his thanks, North walked across the field. "Special Agent Larabee? Richard North," the older man introduced himself, holding out his hand in greeting. "Your boys get hurt bad?"

Gripping the hand held out him while taking the rifle in the other, Chris nodded towards the men being tended to at a nearby ambulance. "Few burns and scrapes. Nothing major." Turning his attention back to a map stretched out on the hood of a truck, Chris nodded to it. "Any place Clayborne is likely to head to?"

Leaning forward to get a clearer view of the diagram before him, North shook his head. "Not much up there. Might be a few line shacks he could hole up in for a day or two, but that's about it."

Nodding his agreement, Chris glanced up in time to catch sight of Vin coming to a halt behind the sheriff. Handing his sharpshooter the rifle, he introduced the two men. "Sheriff North, Agent Vin Tanner." Waiting until the two men shook hands, Chris pinned Vin with his eyes. "Any sign of them?"

"Plenty of tracks to follow," Tanner said, checking the rifle to make sure it was loaded. "Clayborne ain't good at hiding his and Nate's not trying to," he added, resting the gun on one arm, being careful to not jar the scope. Although he hoped he wouldn't need it, it was still good to take it with them... just in case.

Catching the confused look on the Sheriff's face, Chris grimaced. "One of my men went after Clayborne by himself."

Not commenting on the rash action of the agent, North nodded towards the saddled horses waiting a short distance away. "Smart choice. As dry as it's been, anything with a motor would send the whole area up like a timber box."

Grunting noncommittedly, Chris moved with Vin towards the mounts where they were met by the other three men. The white bandage on Ezra's arm and JD's forehead stood in stark contrast with their dusty clothes and skin. Running appraising eyes over the men, Chris acknowledged the slight nods from the two men that they were ready to go.

Watching as Buck gingerly slid a baseball cap on his head, Chris sympathized with his friend. He knew from experience that you didn't want anything squeezing your head when you had a concussion - even a slight one. Still, he also knew that there was no way Wilmington was going to stay behind. This was confirmed by the determined stare that the mustached man threw his team leader when he realized he was being watched.

Turning his back on the others, the black clad man pulled himself onto a horse, expecting the others to follow suit. Pausing only long enough to make sure he had not dislodged the shortwave radio tied on the saddle and that someone had grabbed the reins of the extra horses, Chris dug his heels into the side of the pinto, sending the entire group into a gallop.

*********

Reluctantly pulling to a halt, Nathan Jackson leaned over holding his side, trying to ignore the pain as his body gasped for air and demanded rest. Frustrated, he berated himself silently for his weakness. He had run faster and for more miles numerous times before. Yet, now, when it mattered the most, he was wimping out.

As soon as the words ran through his thoughts, another voice filtered through his mind. It was the voice of the medic within him. 'You hadn't been up for nearly three days nor had you been tossed around like a rag doll before those runs either. You probably got a concussion and that burn on your leg has got to smart.'

Dropping his hand instinctively to his thigh, he gingerly felt around the edges of the wound to make sure it wasn't bleeding or oozing. It was dirty, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. He couldn't afford the time. Every time he stopped, he was letting Josiah's attacker get farther away.

And that was something that he wasn't going to let happen.

Ignoring the burning pain still pounding in his side, Jackson forced his legs to once again begin their painful trot across the hilly countryside.

***********

Pulling his mount back so that it would drop back beside Buck, JD looked anxiously up at his roommate. "How ya doing?"

Dipping his head at the glare thrown at him, JD bit his lip in sympathy. He knew Buck had to be miserable. After a few minutes of silence, the younger man glanced up covertly. "Buck?"

Grunting noncommittedly, Wilmington threw him a glance to give JD silent permission to say whatever had been tugging on him since the bust had gone sour several hours earlier. He had seen it in the set of the younger man's shoulders.

"Why'd he do it?" The question burst from JD like a dam that had broken. "I could see Chris, Vin, or you chasing after Clayborne like that... hell, even Ezra... but Nathan? He's always the calm one. Out of all of us, including Josiah, he's the one who always in control... calm. It just don't make sense." JD trailed off, shaking his head. "

Buck raised surprised eyes at the question. However, it was Ezra, riding slightly behind the men, who answered.

"While it may be true that Nathan has been our... how should I put this...our 'bastion of tranquility,' he is as susceptible as the rest of us to periods of spontaneity."

"Meaning?" JD queried, looking back at the southerner.

"Meaning," Ezra sighed, "that even *he* can reach the end of the proverbial rope."

********

Stumbling, Jackson struggled unsuccessfully to stay on his feet. The force of the blow as he hit the ground drove what little air remained in his chest out in a gush. Rolling over, the ex-medic curled up and struggled to force air back into his exhausted body. Just when he didn't think he was ever going to take in another breath, a gasping rail sounded in his throat as the precious oxygen passed through it.

Once the pain in his chest eased slightly and the autonomic nature of his breathing was again working, his mind registered the pain radiating from his side and leg. Trying to block it, Nathan gazed into the sky. For the first time, he noticed the sun was hanging low. Shocked, he realized it had been hours since he started the foot chase.

In that time, he had kept Clayborne within sight enough to know he was headed in the right direction -- that was, until he had fallen. Laying there, he knew the outlaw was getting away, but his body would not listen to his mind telling him to get up. It had had enough.

Looking back over the incident after a few days, Nathan often wondered if that was the reason he did not hear or see the suspect advancing on him. His first inclination of Clayborne's approach was the foot that appeared beside the agent's head.

Squinting upward, Nathan saw the black hole of the gun pointed towards his face. Instinctively starting to raise his own gun, a hoarse voice echoed over him.

"Do it and it'll be the last thing you do, cop." Nudging the agent, Clayborne stepped sideways and motioned for Nathan to hand his gun to him. Waiting until he had the weapon, he nudged Nathan in the side again with his foot. "Come on. Your friends are getting close and you're gonna be my ticket out of here," he said, warily stepping back and looking nervously across the countryside.

'Friends are getting close' echoed in Nathan's head. The others had caught up with them. Struggling up, the agent tried to judge how close his teammates were while still keeping an eye on Clayborne. Not seeing anything the first couple times, he finally caught a glimpse of sunlight off of metal in the distance. 'Not close enough to hear a shout,' Jackson thought. A deadly calm settled over the agent at his next thought. 'But close enough to hear a shot.'

Bunching his muscles, Nathan drove his earlier pain and fatigue to the back of his mind. Drawing in a quiet breath, he waited for Clayborne to again glance back at the approaching riders. When he did, Nathan lashed out, driving his foot into the suspect's wrist. The unexpected jar forced the weapon upward. Instinctively, Clayborne tightened his grip to keep it from flying out of his hand. As Nathan had hoped, he did not move his finger off the trigger before he did this, causing the gun to fire.

Jackson had no time to savor his success.

Seeing Clayborne beginning to realign the gun towards him, Jackson drove his shoulder into the big man's stomach sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Scrambling up Clayborne's body, Nathan jammed his knee into the suspect's throat, reaching for the extended arm with the gun at the end of it. Grabbing the wrist, he began pounding the hand on the hard ground while trying to retain his position on the squirming man. Just as the hand lost its grip on the weapon, a roar exploded from Clayborne as he heaved the agent off of him.

A wave of agony cascaded over Nathan as his injured side and leg came into contact with the ground. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes. Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him upright. Instinctively, Nathan began lashing out, pummeling his assailant with fists and kicks.

Driving Clayborne backward, Nathan blocked out everything from his mind, except for the bloody face in front of him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was the man who had tried to kill his friend and partner. Following Clayborne to the ground, Nathan continued to pound on the would-be killer.

Bunching the suspect's shirt in his hand, Jackson pulled back his arm to drive it once again into the unconscious man's face. Awareness crept back into his mind when he felt a force pulling on his arm, halting its forward progress. Spinning his head wildly, he eyes focused on the callused hand gripping his wrist.

Running his eyes upward, Nathan blinked several times before he recognized the face before him. It took several more seconds before his mind registered and deciphered the words the moving lips were saying.

"Let him go, Nathan."

Looking back, the ex-medic realized his left hand was still bunched in Clayborne's shirt, holding the unconscious man off the ground. Slowly releasing his grip, he allowed the shirt to slide between his fingers.

Obeying the pulling on his arm, the ex-medic staggered to his feet. Raising his eyes to again look at the man who had a hold of him, Nathan blew out a loud breathe. "Chris."

"You with me?" the ATF leader asked anxiously, watching Nathan begin to blink rapidly. Bracing himself, Chris silently answered his own question as he caught Nathan on his way to the ground.

Laying him down, Chris grimaced when he caught sight of Nathan's side. "Buck, radio for medi-chopper to get out here, now! JD get me the first aide kit from Vin's saddlebags." Glancing over his shoulder while he waited for JD to get there, Larabee acknowledged Vin's questioning gaze with a shake of his head. He wasn't sure if Nathan would be all right or not.

With a slight nod toward the now handcuffed man, Chris asked about Clayborne's condition. Vin shrugged his shoulder as if to say banged up, but nothing life threatening.

Further silent communication was halted with JD's approach. "Here ya go," the youngest agent said, dropping to the ground to help any way he could. Catching sight of Nathan for the first time, Dunne reacted. "Sweet Jesus," he breathed softly, tearing the kit open and dragging bandages out of it. "How in the hell did he run for hours with that thing in him?"

Packing gauze strips on both sides of the piece of metal protruding from Jackson's side directly above the hip, Chris didn't bother to answer. Placing one more bandage on top of the area, he nodded to Ezra to help him hold Nathan up while JD wrapped the gauze around the thin man's waist.

"Chopper'll be here in about 20 minutes," Buck announced, dropping beside the others. "That Josiah's gun?" he asked, nodding to the pistol sticking out of Ezra's waistband.

Nodding, Ezra exchange a relieved glance with Buck. If Clayborne had managed to shoot Nathan with it, Josiah would have carried the burden for a long time.

Glancing back down, Buck swallowed hard at the paleness evident in the dark skin of his friend. "Think he can take some water?"

"Wouldn't hurt to try," Larabee answered, easing the still man back down. Shaking him slightly, Chris called for him wake up. "Nathan? Come on, now. You need to get some water in you."

Moaning, Nathan struggled to open his eyes. He was so tired. Why couldn't he just sleep?

"Nathan," JD called urgently, glancing up from wrapping the burned thigh. "You need to wake up."

Part of Nathan's mind registered the voices calling to him. The only problem was that the biggest part of him wanted to ignore them. He didn't need anything to drink. He just needed a little rest. Then he'd be fine.

The lack of response scared JD. Concerned, he jerked his eyes from the still form to Chris', Ezra's, and Buck's faces.

Swallowing hard, Buck leaned forward. "Come on Jackson. Open them damn eyes." Still no response.

"Nathan," Ezra tried, injecting a sense of urgency in his voice. "One of us has been hurt."

A ripple of movement moved across the dark forehead. Inspired by it, Buck picked up the southerner's tactic. "He's been hurt. Hunk of metal hanging out his side, a big old nasty burn on his leg, and god knows what other injuries from fighting. He hasn't had any thing to drink and he's been running forever." Picking up Nathan's arm, Buck paused to check his pulse. "Heart's racing like a grey hound, but his breathing is shallow. Skin is cold and clammy." Swallowing again, Buck tried to remember what other details the ex-medic always used to assess injuries. Not remembering anything else and seeing no other sign of awareness from Nathan, he shook his head helplessly at Chris.

Lowering his head beside Nathan's, Chris whispered, "Josiah's gonna be pissed if he fought that hard to live and then you die."

Someone hurt. Josiah. Live. Die.

The words struggled to get past the veil of darkness that threatened to engulf him. Taping into his last shreds of strength, Jackson began clawing his way towards the voices. Bursting through the last layer, he drew in a sharp breath and tried to physically arch away from the wall of pain he encountered.

"Easy, Nathan," Chris soothed, trying to hold him so that he didn't injure himself or anyone else. Nodding to the others, the three men reached out to help.

Gripping the hands that held his, Nathan tried to ride out the waves of pain. He was aware of a fourth person holding his legs. While the medic in him understood what was happening, another part did not. That part didn't remember hurting this bad before he passed out. Nor could he understand why his 'friends' would not let him escape from it.

"STOP IT," Chris commanded. The authority ringing in his voice connected with some part of Jackson's mind and stilled the struggling man. The sound of Nathan's harsh breathing remained the only indicator to his misery.

"Crude, but effective," Ezra said dryly, easing his grip on Jackson's arm. Picking up the canteen, he put it to Nathan's lips. Pouring a tiny bit onto his parched lips, Ezra allowed him time to realize what was going on before attempted to give him any more. Pain filled, exhausted eyes opened enough to look at the southerner. Allowing his relief to show on his face, Ezra held the water up again. "Easy... not too fast," he intoned softly.

"I'll go check on the chopper," Buck said, patting Nathan's leg before getting up.

**************

Tossing the file that he had been holding in his hand onto the small table beside him in the hospital waiting room, Chris ran a hand over his face. 'Seems like I was just here,' the blonde man thought dryly, trying to ignore how tired he was. Glancing at his watch, he again wondered why the doctor had not come out yet. Nathan had been in surgery for over two hours. If the doctor was correct in his initial assessment, the metal shard had not penetrated an organ. If that was the case, it would be a simple matter of extracting it and repairing the damage. 'He did say he was going to debreed the burn while he was sedated,' Chris thought, trying to come up with a reason for it to take longer without it meaning Nathan was worse.

Grimacing at the thought of how painful that would be, Larabee had no doubt that it would be for the best. The doctor had already told them an infection had set into the five-by-three inch burn.

Getting up, Larabee moved to stand beside the window. It had been a hard couple days - on all of them. Gazing into the darkness outside, he took the opportunity to study the others through their images reflected in the glass.

JD and Buck were slumped in their chairs. Buck had his eyes closed, no doubt trying to still the pounding that continued to ring in his head from the earlier concussion. JD was staring up at the ceiling, a frown on his face. Periodically, he would look longingly down the hallway for a few seconds before again turning his gaze to the ceiling.

Across from them, Ezra was sitting, hands clasped in his lap and his face a blank mask . He had long ago given up any pretense of being unconcerned by looking at magazines or playing solitaire.

Averting his eyes, Chris' gaze fell on his second in command. Vin was sitting beside Ezra, slumped forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. He was absentmindedly rubbing the callouses on the palms of his hands. As if sensing the scrutiny, he looked up and stared back at Chris.

Turning with a small smile on his face, Chris shook his head slightly to tell the marksman he didn't need anything from him. He had merely been reassuring himself.

"I suppose one of us should go tell Josiah we don't know anything yet," Vin said softly, sitting up.

"I'll do it," Chris replied, heading for the profiler's room a short distance down the dimly lit hall.

Easing open the door, Chris heard the nurse's frustrated voice.

"Mr. Sanchez, if you don't calm down and stay still, you are going to reopen your chest." Softening her voice, she continued. "I understand that you are concerned about your friend but I'm sure if there is any news...." Spotting Chris coming in, she trailed off. Nodding as Chris, she squeezed Josiah's arm, "I'll be back to check on you in a little bit."

Easing into the chair beside the bed, Chris noticed the piercing gaze of the big man's blue eyes upon him. Seeing the fatigue in Josiah's face, he knew he had not been resting as everyone wanted him to do.

"How's Nathan?" Josiah's deep voice rumbled in the quiet room.

"Still in surgery."

Visibly sinking back into the bed, Josiah let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling. He was still stunned by what had happened. If it had been Vin or Chris who had taken off after Clayborne like that, it would not have surprised him. Nathan, however, was another matter.

"What about Clayborne?" Josiah queried, glancing at Chris.

"Broken nose and some black eyes. Screaming brutality and false arrest to anyone who'll listen," Chris said, frowning.

"Think they'll be trouble?"

Shrugging, Chris tried to make light of the situation. "They'll be an investigation and possibly a reprimand in Nathan's jacket...."

"Reprimand?" Josiah interrupted, seemingly insulted by the thought. "What you mean reprimand? The guy was standing over him, shoving a gun in his face..."

"I know," Chris tried to interject.

"...and Vin told me the print they found in my truck and the tire tracks matched Clayborne's and..."

"I know," Chris tried again, holding up a hand to motion Josiah to calm down.

"...you tell me they're gonna hang Nathan out to dry?" Josiah finally finished, his voice strained from anger and exertion.

"IF - and I do mean, if - I reprimand him, it'll be for giving up his gun, not for defending himself," Chris said firmly. Watching the indignation deflate from Josiah, he was struck by the ferocity of Josiah's defense for his partner. If it had been Josiah who was facing possible discipline, Chris wondered if he would be so adamant about his own defense as he was about Nathan's.

After a few minutes, Josiah raised tired eyes to Chris. After working himself up, he was feeling especially drained. "How are the others doing?"

Shifting in his chair, Chris allowed the image of how he had left the others a few minutes earlier to enter his mind. "They are," he paused, trying to find the right word to describe them. After a few seconds, he looked at Josiah and said, "Rattled."

"Chris?"

Hearing Ezra's voice from the doorway, Larabee turned.

"Doctor's looking for you."

Nodding, Chris told Josiah he would be right back before leaving the room. Going back into the waiting area, he approached the man still in surgical scrubs. "Dr. Taylor, how's he doing?"

Shaking Chris' hand in greeting, he glanced at the five anxious men standing around him. "First off, as I suspected, the metal glanced off his hip bone and embedded itself in soft tissue. He'll be sore for a couple weeks but as long as he doesn't go on anymore marathons, it should heal fine."

A sigh of relief passed through the agents. "What about his leg?" Ezra asked, the first to get the question out.

Dr. Taylor shifted uneasily. "Quite frankly, I don't know how he kept going for as long as he did on it. The burn is very deep. I cleaned it and trimmed as much of the dead tissue away that I could, but he'll need to see a specialist when he get's back to Denver for a graft."

Watching the guarded expression on the physician's face, Vin quietly asked, "What else?"

Pursing his lips, Taylor decided it would be best to just tell them everything and get it over with. "I'm sure you noticed that the procedure took a little longer than I had expected. We had some problem getting him stabilized."

"Problem?" Buck blurted. "What kind of problem?"

"In addition to aggravating the wounds, Mr. Jackson's 'run' shall we say, caused him to loose a great deal of blood. This compounded his dehydration and threw his electrolytes out of balance." Seeing the confused looks on their face, the doctor tried to explain. "Electrolytes are part of the system that regulate heart functions. On top of this, he reacted to one of the antibiotics we were giving him, causing him to go into severe respiratory distress."

"You mean he stopped breathing?" JD asked quietly, a tremor of fear tinging his voice.

"No, I mean he almost stopped breathing," Taylor clarified gently. "But we did have to put him on a ventilator." Concerned rustling from the men made him hold his hands up to calm them. "It is only temporary, until we can get his fluid level up and his body has a chance to recover somewhat."

"When will that be?"

Six heads turned in surprise at the strained voice from the doorway that had asked the question.

"Josiah! You shouldn't be out here," several voices simultaneously admonished the big man slumped against the door frame, blood from the blown IV sight dripping down the hand and arm pressed to his chest.

Ignoring his teammates, Josiah pinned the doctor before him with somber eyes. "When will that be?" he whispered again, his strength rapidly failing him.

"Mr. Sanchez, we need to get you back in bed," Taylor said, moving to take Josiah's arm to help him. An iron hand on his wrist stopped him.

Watching as Josiah halted the doctor's assistance, Chris knew the profiler would fight all of them until he had an answer or he passed out. Hoping to avoid the latter, he caught the doctor's eyes and silently told him to answer the question.

Sighing, Dr. Taylor nodded once to Chris before looking back at the haunted eyes of his first patient. "I'm not sure. At least 24 hours, maybe longer. He's in critical condition right now."

Slowly releasing his grip, Josiah turned around, giving into the urging of the hands holding him upright. Making it back to his room with a great deal of effort, he allowed himself to be eased back into the bed. Grabbing out at the arms of the two closest men, Josiah's eyes darted between his friends. "Don't let him wake up alone."

Extracting his arm, Ezra squeezed Josiah's hand in a silent promise before moving out of the way so the nurse could restart the IV Josiah had ripped out before his 'journey' down the hallway.

*************

Nodding to the nurse documenting Nathan's vitals, Ezra slowly advanced to the bedside. Glancing at the various machines and monitors, he tried to ignore the rhythmic sound of the ventilator as it pushed and pulled air from Nathan's body. Of all the sounds associated with a hospital, that was the one he hated the most.

Running his eyes over his friend, Ezra realized that JD had been correct when he said that Nathan looked like he had lost in a paint ball match. The reaction to the antibiotic had left small red welts all over his arms, neck, and chest that disappeared into the bandage around his waist. Standish had no doubt that the same marks would be on his lower extremities also.

Leaning forward to see if the rash was also on his face, Ezra realized that Nathan was frowning deeply. Glancing over his shoulder at the nurse, he asked "Is he in pain?"

"I just gave him something," the nurse said, acknowledging Ezra's concern while assuring him she had already taken steps to take care of it. Moving back to the bed to retrieve a print out from the monitor, she looked at the man forelonely standing best the bed. "He opened his eyes a few minutes ago. He may do so again if you speak to him."

Looking at the nurse to make sure he had heard her correctly, Ezra bowed his head to acknowledge the encouragement he saw on her face before she left the small room. Turning his gaze back to Nathan, he opened and closed his mouth several times without anything coming out. He was shocked to realize that he wasn't sure of what to say.

"Not one of your better days, my friend," Ezra finally began softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You, who have been the stalwart benchmark of our little team, were totally reckless and capricious today."

Sobering, Ezra toyed with the edge of the sheet between his fingers, creasing and straightening it. "I've always admired your steadfast philosophy of justice. You see a wrong, you work to make it right. There is no hesitation, no contemplation of personal gain. Yet, in your zeal, I have never seen you sacrifice a part of yourself to the evil that you were attempting to stop. Until today."

Slowly shaking his head, the southerner laughed uneasily. "Today, you stepped into my world. One of shadows and illusions. One that can seductively lure you into believing that as long as the ends are just, the means of acquiring that end do not matter. And sometimes.... sometimes it is easy to become lost in this belief... in this world." Pausing, Ezra frowned at the memory of how many times he had found himself on the edge of forgetting that the role he was playing in a case was merely that - a role. He wasn't the drug dealing, gun running, blood thirsty murdering SOB he had to so often portray.

Reaching out to straighten the end of Nathan's pillowcase, a sad smile appeared on Ezra's face. "Today, you have joined the ranks of the rest of us mere mortals, vulnerable to desires of revenge and injuries from our impetuous actions." Laying a hand on Nathan's arm, Ezra squeezed it and sighed. "Now that you have touched the darkness, I just hope you can escape it."

*****************

"I can do this all night now," Buck drawled, turning a chair and straddling it across from Martin Clayborne. Frustrated with the futility of waiting at the hospital for Nathan to wake up, he had decided his time would be better spent interrogating Clayborne to find out if anyone else was responsible for the attack on Josiah.

Raising his eyes from the little man before him, Wilmington grimaced at the time on the clock. Four in the morning. Yeah, he could do this all night - when he was younger. Right now, he just wished he could get the hell out of there.

Shifting his gaze back to the prisoner, Buck mentally frowned. The averted, petulant look on Clayborne's face combined with the arms crossed across his chest was doing little to endear him to anyone. Deciding he needed to change tactics, Buck suddenly slapped the table before him and bellowed, "HEY!"

When Clayborne started, but still refused to look at the ATF agent, Buck jumped up and shoved the chair out of his way. The loud scraping of the metal legs on the floor caused Clayborne to jump again. This time, however, he couldn't keep himself from shifting his gaze to the agent now towering over the table.

"You put two friends in the hospital. Now, I want to know who else was involved," Buck growled, venom dripping from his words.

"Nobody," Clayborne spat out, again turning his battered face away from Buck.

"Listen, you little shit," Buck growled, reaching across the table to snatch a handful of Clayborne's shirt and yanking him upright. Shoving his face into Clayborne's, Buck continued., "With them bruises, I could smack you around some and no one would ever know the difference. Now, stop lying to me. We know there was a woman involved. Who is she?"

Flinching at the savage eyes boring into him, Clayborne tried to pull away from them and the iron grip that had him. When he could neither, he began to crumble. "How the hell would I know," he finally spat out. "She was just some woman who happened to have a flat tire."

Buck released his grip and shoved the prisoner back into his chair. Standing upright, he reached back and moved the chair back by the table. Again straddling it, the mustached man plopped back down. "Go on."

"I'd seen some guy taking pictures around my place, so I followed him... to find out who he was and why the hell he was snooping around," Clayborne muttered, resigned to the fact that he was in too deep now to shut up. "So I was following him when he stopped to help some woman who was pulled off the side of the road. So I pull over and go walking up there." Leaning forward, Clayborne raised one hand in the air. "I'm thinking that maybe I can get the camera while he's distracted, you know? So, I sneak up there and I see it, on the dash. I reach in to get it and the next thing I know, he's got a hold of my arm."

"What happened then?" Buck asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"He wouldn't let me go and then he starts yellin' about being a federal agent. I freaked," Clayborne said, slumping back into the chair. "The next thing I know, the broad's screaming and blood is squirting everywhere. She yanks the baby out of the truck and jumps into her car and drives off, flat tire and all."

"And you just let her go?" Buck asked dryly.

"Hey man. I ain't into hurting babies," Clayborne said defensively, seemingly insulted by the implication.

Waving his hand in mock apology, Wilmington brought Clayborne back to the story at hand. "So what did you do after she took off?"

"I got to thinkin' that if this guy was a federal agent like he was saying, I needed to buy some time - so I could get some money together, you know? So I took his wallet and was looking for the truck registration when I found his gun. No sense leaving it there, so I took it," Clayborne finished.

Standing up, Buck opened a drawer in the desk and jerked a note pad from it. Tossing it onto the table top, he held a pen towards Clayborne. "How about you write all this down for me now," Buck said, easing himself back into the chair to wait for the written confession.

*************

Turning away from the window and the sight of the sun as it began to peek over the eastern horizon, Vin shoved his sleeve back to look at his watch. It was almost time to wake Ezra up to take over. The two of them had alternated in two hours shift in the room with Nathan while JD and Chris had the inevitable task of trying to keep Josiah in his bed. The last he had heard, Chris was threatening to tie Josiah down. Feeling a presence in the room, Vin looked up to see Chris standing in the doorway.

"Nate wakes up now and you'll scare him to death," Vin drawled, as he watched the blonde man halt his progress on the opposite side of the bed. From the dark circles under his eyes and the deep lines etched around his mouth, any sleep Chris might had gotten was unrestful.

Throwing the younger man a brief but vicious scowl, Chris tried to judge Nathan's condition. He no longer saw any sign of pain etched into Nathan's face nor signs that he was fighting the machines that were allowing his body to heal. In addition, the splotchy welts that told of the severity of his reaction to the antibiotic had faded from a fire engine red to a light cherry. "Looks better this morning," Chris observed softly, feeling a small portion of his anxiousness slip away.

"Hear anything from Buck?" Vin queried, as he watched Chris' features ease slightly with the knowledge that Nathan was gaining ground.

Nodding, Chris replied, "Got a full confession from Clayborne."

"One that won't be thrown out?" Vin asked, wondering what type of 'persuasion' Buck had used on the man.

"Swears he never hit him," Chris answered, shrugging to indicate that he wasn't sure if it was the truth or not. As agitated as Wilmington had been when he had left the hospital, he wasn't going to guarantee anything.

Silence again descended in the little room, save the sounds of the monitors and the hated ventilator. Staring down at his incendiary specialist, Chris couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't seen this coming. He knew Nathan had been walking a tight rope of emotions since Josiah had been hurt. And he always knew deep down inside that Nathan had the capacity to be as impulsive as the rest of them. Still, the idea that he would take after Clayborne if the bust had gone sour never entered into his mind - even as a fleeting thought. Mentally snorting, Chris just as quickly countered that argument. 'Even if it had, it would of never included the possibility that he would jeopardize his own life to do so.' That was so unlike the man who placed others' well-being far above and beyond his own.

"Got another one to worry about now, don't you?" Vin said quietly, his eyes softening in sympathy at the thought of how much energy and time Chris spent trying to anticipate what his men might do in the various situations they encountered. Up til now, he had at least one agent that he didn't have to worry about too much. Now that man had proven he could be as reckless as his partners.

Blowing out a loud breath, Chris ran a hand over his face. "You'd think one of these days I'd get smart and let all of you kill yourselves and get it over with."

Vin shook his head as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hell, we'd just come back and haunt ya."

The movement of Nathan's head forestalled any further bantering. Turning all of their attention to the injured man, Chris and Vin hoped that Nathan was finally going to open his eyes.

Laying one hand on Nathan's forearm, Vin leaned forward. "Hey, Jackson. You gonna sleep the day away?"

A fluttering of eyes answered Vin's question. Holding his breath, Chris waited. Brown eyes opened slightly. As awareness crept into Nathan's consciousness, Chris felt Nathan's body stiffen. Almost immediately afterward, his eyes flew open in panic.

"Easy, Nathan," Chris soothed, grabbing the hand that was moving to pull on the tubing in his mouth.

"You're okay. It's only temporary," Vin stressed, restraining the other hand. He knew how disconcerting it was to wake up on the vent, not being able to talk... afraid that you are never going to be able to breathe on your own. It wasn't something he wished on his worst enemy.

Seeking escape, terrified eyes darted between the two men leaning over the bed. As recognition of who they were and cognition of what they were saying settled in, Nathan slumped back into the bed, soaking in the support and comfort Chris and Vin were sending him with their eyes.

"Okay?" Chris asked lightly after a few minutes, giving Nathan as much time as he needed. Only when Nathan blinked his eyes indicating he was ready did both Chris and Vin ease their grips and moved back a little. They did not, however, take their hands from his arms, nor did they move out of his eyesight.

"You know when you're feeling better, you and I are going to have a talk," Chris stated lightly, his tone of voice taking any sting out of his words.

At the words 'feeling better', Nathan's hand moved to his side. Questioning eyes relayed the words his mouth could not.

"Missed everything important," Vin offered. "Didn't ask 'em to go into details. Doc just said he stitched you up and that it should heal fine."

Nathan's hand moved lower to indicate the covers over his leg. He could feel the wetness of the Vaseline bandage that protected the area while allowing it to breathe.

"Pretty nasty burn, all the way down to the muscle," Chris intoned flatly. "Once you're off this thing," waiving towards the ventilator, "and stronger, we'll have to fly you home for a graft."

Nathan's hand moved upward toward the tubing in his mouth. When Vin stopped him from getting any closer to it, he cut sharp eyes toward him before turning them back to Chris for an explanation of why he was on it if his injuries were not that serious.

Giving Nathan the explanation that the doctor had given them, Chris watched his eyes to see if it made sense to the ex-medic. Seeing it did, Chris felt another piece of his fear disappear like smoke on a windy day.

"Okay, enough visiting," Dr. Taylor chided, coming into the small area, his eyes flickering between the monitors, his patient, and the two self-imposed sentinels. He had already received the report from the nursing staff of the bedside vigils that had been held here and down the hall. "He's suppose to be resting."

Stepping between Vin and the bed, the doctor leaned on the railing and looked at his patient. "Mr. Jackson. Do you remember me?

A blink of eyes and a slight nod indicated he did.

"Good. How about we kick these two out of here and then I'll take a look at you so we can decide how much longer before we can move you in with your partner?"

Another slight nod.

"Gentlemen?" Taylor said, waiting for them to concede to their friend's wishes.

Locking his eyes with Nathan, Chris silently asked him if he would be okay by himself.

Reaching out and squeezing Chris' hand, Nathan assured him he would be.

"We're gonna go tell the others you're awake. Someone will be back in a little bit," Vin said, as much for the doctor's sake as Nathan's. He wanted to make sure the physician knew that he had no intention of allowing Nathan to be by himself for long.

************


Opening his eyes and staring at unfamiliar surroundings, it took Nathan several minutes to remember that he was in the hospital. Feeling the tube in his throat, he instinctively tried to reach for it. A hand stopped him before he could get a hold of it.

"Boy, you're sure set on pulling that thing out aren't you?"

Turning his head towards the voice, Nathan's eyes twinkled with pleasure when he saw the face of one JD Dunne grinning back at him.

"Doc says he's gonna take it out anytime now, seein' as it's been 24 hours and you're blood work is better."

Frowning, Nathan was shocked at the amount of time he had slept. He knew it had been early in the morning when he had wakened before, but if 24 hours had passed since the ventilator had been inserted during surgery, that meant it was late evening now.

"Chris, Vin and Ezra are at the hotel sleeping. None of 'em slept last night and Ezra and Vin stayed with you all day. Chris was up most of the day, too, doin' paperwork so Clayborne could be transferred to Denver to face federal charges," JD said, settling back down on the stool that had appeared beside the bed while Nathan had been sleeping. "Buck got back from restin' up a little while ago and he's with Josiah now. They were playing cards when I was in there last."

"Mary called to see how you were doing," JD prattled on. "Said to tell you she's thinkin' of ya and that she'll see you in a day or two when they send you back. Oh... and Billy said to tell ya hi."

"Chris finally got ahold of Rain. Told her, there wasn't any sense of her trying to come back from Europe early since you was doin' okay and there wasn't anything she could do for you anyway. Man, that must be neat to be able to take two weeks and travel around a foreign country like that. If I could do that, I'd go to Australia. What about you?"

Sheepishly, JD looked away from the amused brown eyes watching him and slumped in his seat. "Sorry. I forgot for a minute that you can't talk with that thing in your throat."

After a few minutes of silence, JD looked back up to see concerned eyes looking at him. "What's the matter Nathan? You need something?" JD asked anxiously, standing up to go get the nurse if need be.

Shaking his head, Nathan grabbed JD's arm to stop him from running for help. Squeezing his hand to let him know he was okay, he nodded towards JD.

"Me?" JD queried. "You're wondering if I'm okay?"

Nathan nodded, glad he had finally gotten his message through.

Laughing lightly, JD answered the question, without really answering it. "You and Josiah were hurt, not me."

Knowing eyes continued to stare at the younger man. Shaking the arm he still had a hold of, Nathan silently chided JD for not being forthright in his response.

Both knew Nathan wanted to know about more than JD's physical well-being. When JD still didn't answer right away, Nathan took the most obvious route and pointed toward the small bandage on JD's forehead.

"Oh, this," JD exclaimed, his hand traveling lightly over the bandage next to his hair line. "Just a small cut. Didn't even need stitches," he said, brushing off the injury as more of a nuisance than anything else.

Brown eyes asked what else had been hurt.

"Just a few bruises. Nothing major, I swear," JD exclaimed, squirming under the intensity of Nathan's gaze. "Only...," the younger man stopped his movement and turned mournful, pleading eyes up to his friend. "Don't ever do anything like that again, okay?" he whispered fervently.

Blinking back his own tears at the intensity of the uncertainty and shadow of fear he saw reflected in the bright, moist eyes staring at him, Nathan squeezed JD's hand in a silent promise.

***********

Sitting up in the wheelchair, Nathan shifted slightly to ease the pressure on his side. It felt good to be upright. When the doctor had awakened him early in the morning and removed the ventilator, he thought that the day couldn't get any better. He was wrong.

Listening as the nurse pushed open the door, a broad smile erupted on Nathan's face as he heard Josiah's deep baritone voice rumbling across the room.

"I guess I'm going to have to go down there and see how he's doing this morning," Josiah sighed into the telephone receiver. Pausing to listen to the person on the other end, he snorted. "The day that happens...." He stopped when his eyes alit on the man being wheeled into the room. "Nathan!" Josiah exclaimed in joy. The murmur of a voice calling to him reminded him he was speaking on the phone. "I gotta go. They just brought him in." With that the big man summarily ended the conversation by hanging up.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Josiah ignored the pull of his stiches and grinned at his friend, drinking in the sight of him. Reaching out, he grasped the hand being held out to him tightly. "If you aren't a sight for sore eyes," Sanchez said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Josiah," Nathan whispered, his throat sore and scratchy from the ventilator, and his eyes moist with tears. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mr. Jackson?" the nurse said softly, reaching down to put the wheelchair brakes on. "How about I go get the rest of your things and you can visit a little bit before I lay you down? Would that be okay?"

Throwing her grateful smiles, Nathan and Josiah both nodded their thanks.

Silence descended in the room. After a few minutes, Josiah raised his eyes from the floor. "Buck said the guys are on their way." Seeing Nathan's acknowledging nod, he lowered his eyes back to the floor. He wished he knew how to say what he wanted to convey. He was just going to have to spit it out. Drawing in a deep breath, Josiah said, "You shouldn't of done it. It wasn't worth it."

The startled look Nathan threw at him caused Josiah to grimace. Holding up his hand to halt whatever defense Nathan was about to launch, he tried again. "I mean...," blowing out a loud breath, he faltered. "You shouldn't of risked yourself like that. I... I couldn't live knowing you'd died cause of me."

Tensing in defense, Nathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Me?" Nathan croaked back. "What about you. If I'd gone with you on the hunting trip, then you'd never of been...."

Josiah interrupted him. "You don't know that," he said defensively. "Hell, you could've of been right beside me and it still might of happened."

"And it might not of," Nathan quickly countered back.

"Gentlemen, it is so nice to once again hear your ever supportive and understanding repartee," Ezra drawled sarcastically from the doorway. Coming into the room, followed by Vin and Chris, the southerner stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at the two injured men. "What do you say," he continued, turning nonchalantly towards Chris and Vin. "Shall we cancel the helicopter and leave them here while we go home tomorrow?"

Nodding, Vin fought the smile that was trying to erupt on his face in response to the outraged stares being thrown at Ezra. "Seems like a good idea, seein' as how they're so hell bent on blamin' everything on themselves anyway. Guess they can kill a couple more days chewin' on whose fault it is that they got left behind. After that, who knows, they might even be feelin' up to figuring out how they're getting back to Denver."

Blue eyes turned toward his partner as Josiah said, "I think they are making fun of us."

Nodding, Nathan glared at the others and rasped, "Their day is coming."

Chuckling at the underlying threat in the ex-medic's words, Chris stepped forward. "Seeing as we are going to abandon them, Josiah might appreciate knowing we're taking his stuff with us."

Pulling out the gun and holster from the back of his waistband, Vin laid it into one of Josiah's hands. Stepping back, he made room for Ezra to do the same with the agent's badge.

Resting the holstered gun on his leg, Josiah traced the letters on the face of the metal badge with his fingertips. He remembered that they had said that Clayborne had taken it, but he hadn't remembered the actual act of it until this moment. Laying it back down, he pulled the gun out and held up the holster to look inside of it as if to verify that it was the correct one.

A faint, bittersweet smile appeared on the big man's face. Clayborne had tried to take everything that meant anything to him: his gun, his badge, his life, and worst of all, his friend. Looking up, he saw the understanding in Nathan's eyes.

Clearing his throat, Josiah put the gun back into the holster and glanced at the men in the room. "Did you find my wallet?" he asked to cover his discomfort. Seeing Chris' nod, he raised expectant eyes toward his boss.

"I gave it to Buck. Told him and JD to bring breakfast with 'em."

Rolling his eyes, Nathan feigned outrage on Josiah's behalf. "You what? He'll be lucky if he's got two cents left to his name after they get done."

"Now that ain't a nice thing to say," Buck said, overhearing the comment as he and JD arrived in the room. Setting down the bags in his hands, Wilmington tossed Josiah's wallet to him. "Left ya a buck or two in there," he quipped, winking at Chris as he turned away.

"Doesn't matter. I've got all I need right here," Josiah said, smiling as he lifted his eyes from the wallet in his hands to look at the friends surrounding him.

the end


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