For Buck, the fifteen minute drive to Mercy General felt like a slow ride through hell. Even with the dash-light flashing and portable siren wailing, Josiah had one hell of a time maneuvering Ezra's Jag through Denver's rush hour traffic. By the time the three agents arrived, with tires screeching to a halt in front of the Emergency entrance, a frantic Wilmington had flung the passenger door open and charged into the hospital, not noticing or even caring that Josiah hadn't actually intended to stop there.

Josiah carried on through to the parking lot, careful not to add any more dents to Ezra's prized vehicle, while Vin followed in hot pursuit of an inconceivably distraught friend. Accelerating into a run, Tanner caught up to Buck just as he was lining up a petite admissions nurse who was visibly shrinking away from the crazed man towering over her.

As he grasped his friend's arm and swung Buck around to face him, Vin immediately realized the error of his ways. Only the quick reflexes of both agents, skilled as they were in hand-to-hand combat, prevented either man from any injury. As Vin narrowly avoided Buck's first blow, recognition finally surfaced in the big man's eyes and with a frustrated growl, he dropped his clenched fist. "Damnit, Vin. Where's JD?"

The sharpshooter's heart clenched at the utter despair echoing in his friend's voice. It was as though the thread Buck was hanging onto was unraveling before Vin's eyes. He'd watched the big man keep it together in court, but the drive to the hospital had been hell. Josiah and Vin had already told him JD was on the third floor in ICU, but Tanner knew Buck had only latched onto bits and pieces of what they'd actually said during their wild race to get to the kid. The only facts that mattered to Buck were that JD had suffered a serious gunshot wound to the chest, and that the boy was still alive.

Vin knew there was no point in talking to the man. He'd leave that formidable challenge to Nathan and Chris. Placing his hand on Buck's shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze, Vin spoke softly, but resolutely. "I know where he is, Buck. C'mon. Let's get there."

As the elevator reached the third floor/ICU, and its mechanical doors slid open none-too-quickly enough for Buck's patience, Vin didn't even consider trying to hold Buck back. The effort would've been futile and, this close to JD's bedside, downright suicidal.

Apparently though, Nathan Jackson had a kamikaze streak in him that Vin hadn't ever noticed before.

Tanner had quickly spotted Ezra Standish, now wearing the latest fashion in surgical scrubs, seated at the end of the long hall Wilmington was presently running down. Team 7's undercover agent nodded his head, acknowledging Vin's gaze and immediately moving away from the waiting area and the 'decidedly gauche' chair he'd been entrenched in, and abruptly knocked on the door to the ICU.

An instant later, Vin watched as Nathan Jackson stepped out of the room and promptly and purposefully planted himself in front of said door, apparently unconcerned of the fact that a 190 pound locomotive named Buck Wilmington was about to go right through him, with no intention whatsoever of slowing down, let alone slamming on his brakes.

Both Tanner and Standish stood in their respective places, riveted to the scene, unable to move and yet unable to look away from the horrific spectacle about to unfold before them.

"Outta my way, Nathan." The soft-spoken words were deceptive, originating from some dark place deep within Buck's core, and carrying with them a threat so unnerving, it finally broke the spell immobilizing Vin and Ezra.

Ezra quickly moved to Jackson's left and, having caught up to Buck, Vin moved into place on Nathan's right.

"I said, outta my way." Wilmington was quivering with emotion – fear, rage and anguish quarrelling for top billing.

"Can't do that, Buck. Not yet." Nathan held his ground, completely aware of the very real threat facing off with him, and yet his voice remained determined, unwavering.

Wilmington instantly began to deflate – anxiety, dread and exhaustion overcoming him – the utter disbelief at the betrayal of his three friends standing before him, wounding him clear through to his soul. Didn't they understand that JD needed him? Didn't they understand that he needed to be with his kid brother?

At the first hint of acquiescence, Nathan visibly relaxed. His voice softened in accord. "Buck, you plan on sittin' with JD all night?"

The question confused Wilmington. "'Course I do. D'you even hafta ask?"

Jackson dipped his head, shaking it as he smiled. No, he didn't have to ask. He motioned for Ezra and Vin to back off, each of them pausing briefly to give Buck a pat on the back before returning to the adjacent waiting area, ready to resume their vigil.

Slipping his own strong arm around Buck's shoulders, Jackson drew his friend closer and was at once gratified, and at the same time sorrowed, when he actually felt Buck give a little and lean into him. Buck Wilmington was by nature open and demonstrative and always the first to be there to provide a friend a shoulder to lean on. But he was also always the last to ask that of anyone else.

Thankful he could be there for him, Nathan still couldn't help but feel a great sadness that his friend was suffering so immensely to actually accept his support. Gently squeezing Buck's arm, he whispered, "Nah, Buck. I don't hafta ask. But you know I couldn't let you barge in there like you was plannin' to. Security'd have you kicked out for good in no time flat and, I'd hafta say I wouldn't blame 'em one bit."

Buck bristled slightly at Jackson's comment but when their eyes met, the former EMT staved off his friend's protest with a resolute gaze. "Buck, you know there's folks other than JD in there and they ain't up to the scare you'd 'a given 'em lookin' as wild as you did comin' up here. Hell, if JD'd been awake to see ya, you'd 'a even given him one hell of a fright."

At the mention of the kid's name, Nathan felt the man in his grasp wilt, but then immediately recover and straighten up to his full height. "JD's sleepin'?" Jackson didn't get the chance to answer. "Damnit, Nate, I'm all right now and I do aim to see him. Just what in hell happened anyway? Is he gonna be okay?" Wilmington's voice was regaining its strength.

Jackson knew that once Buck started his inquisition, he wouldn't get a word in edgewise, so he let the man run out of steam before finally responding. "C'mon with me. JD's still gonna be under for a long while yet. 'Sides, Chris is with 'im, so he ain’t alone. C'mon, let’s sit down over here ‘n then we can talk."

Tightening his hold on his friend, Nathan's attempt to steer Buck to the nearest chair was roughly shrugged off. "Damnit Nathan, sittin' is all I been doing today and look where that got JD!"

Even as his voice continued to rise, Buck realized the futility of being this damn close to losing complete control. He knew he had to rein in his temper. Nathan was right, he wouldn't do JD or anybody else any good if he lost it. But damnit, this was just too hard. Being kept away from what he held dearest to him was damn near unbearable. He needed to see JD, to hold his hand. . .and to know that the boy was truly still with him.

And Buck needed to tell JD how sorry he was for not being there for him when the boy needed him most. "Come on, Nathan. You know he needs me. I gotta be there for him." This time.

Nathan winced as he listened to the desperation in Buck's heartfelt plea. The guilt-laden words, though not even remotely surprising -- when didn't Buck blame himself for JD getting hurt? -- were sorely misplaced and succeeded only in riling the usually placid Nathan Jackson. "Look, you better get that thought outta your head right now. You ain't got no call blamin' yourself for JD gettin' hurt. Hell, you weren't even th. . ."

Shit. He'd stopped himself too late. The streak of pain flashing across his friend's face and still reflected in his wounded eyes, painted all too clearly the picture of deep anguish and guilt harbored within Buck Wilmington's soul. Nathan conceded defeat, he knew there was no point in fighting this battle. He'd have to change tactics. "Buck, JD gets one look at you right now, sees you beatin' up on yourself like this, and he's only gonna think the worst."

"He needs you strong, my friend. Believin' in him to live." Josiah's reappearance was announced by soothing words of wisdom and punctuated by a strong welcome arm, hooked around Buck's neck in a comforting embrace.

"Is he gonna live. . .Nathan?" The question was almost childlike in its hesitancy. And for that moment, while still remaining unanswered, a shroud of fear and dread hung in the air. Nathan's heart could only ache for his friend.

Jackson knew the not knowing was killing the man. Stealing a quick glance at Josiah, who in turn immediately tightened his hold on Buck, Nathan answered honestly. "We don't know yet, Buck. He did real good in surgery, but. . .he lost a lot 'a blood before we could even get 'im here. He's awful weak, Buck. The doctors, they. . .they just don't know."

Buck nodded his head in numb understanding, grateful for the big hand now gently gripping his neck, imparting the welcome strength and much-needed faith Josiah always seemed to have in abundance.

Looking into the eyes of Josiah and Nathan, and then into those of Ezra and Vin who'd come to stand alongside him, he embraced their collective offering of hope and will, and turned to face the doors of the ICU.

Upon crossing the threshold Buck faltered, his senses overwhelmed. Hearing the beeps, blips and whirrs of the life-preserving machinery – machinery that was in all certainty invasively attached to the boy, keeping him alive – his head swam and his heart thundered in his chest and Buck began to pray. The clinical hospital smell overcame him, churning the nausea already welling in his gut and threatening to send him reeling to the floor. His head spun and the room swayed, and he quickly reached out to latch onto something upright. Anything upright.

"Chris?"

"Easy, big fella. I gotcha." Chris Larabee's tone was remarkably warm, carrying within it a hint of humor, along with his obvious concern. He'd been waiting for his oldest friend's arrival, steeling himself for what was to come. Until he heard the footsteps falter outside the curtain separating them, and then witnessed as an unseeing Buck turned nearly as ashen as JD and wavered on the brink of collapse, he hadn't truly realized the magnitude of the fear and anguish consuming his friend. And to realize it, was to share in it. How he wished he could have prevented this tragedy.

Despite their many battles won and lost in recent years, Chris' supportive hold willingly and easily became a comforting embrace. And as Buck held on to him for dear life, both men realized with sudden clarity that no matter their differences, they'd always be there for each other. It's what friends did for each other.

"C'mon." Maintaining a firm grip on Buck's arm, he guided his friend through the curtains separating them both from JD, and led him to the kid.

At the sight of the pale waif lying so very still in the hospital bed, Buck's breath hitched and his feet faltered once again. But only for a moment. "Oh Jesus, Chris," he breathed and all but ran to JD's side, careful to avoid the monitors and machinery latched like tentacles to the boy they surrounded, making him look even younger and smaller and more vulnerable than Buck could have ever imagined possible.

"Oh, JD," he whispered, tenderly placing one trembling hand atop the kid's and another on his fevered brow. The image before him was terrifying. This couldn't be JD. The boy lying in bed was as still as. . .

No! JD was life personified – exuberant, cocky and willful. Not weak. Never weak like this.

God, he looked so bad, as pale as could be, his cheeks and eyes sunk so deep he looked like he'd lost more than half his body-weight since Buck had last seen him at breakfast – a lifetime ago.

So mesmerized by the horrific image of his broken little brother, Buck hadn't realized Chris was still with him. Until he tried to lean in closer to the boy to talk to him. He'd intended to shift his hand from JD's wrist to his leg but Chris' hand swiftly and firmly caught his, preventing the touch.

Buck whirled with a start, his eyes fueled by anger until realization suddenly set in and his expression fell into that of confusion. Chris breathed in a weary sigh, immediately recognizing that Buck had yet to have been told about the surgery. Shit.

"Chris?"

"Did Nathan tell you about the surgery?" Chris already knew the answer.

Buck's response was a grim smile and a shake of his head. Returning his attention to JD, he gently smoothed his hand along the boy's hair as he spoke softly. "Hell Chris, Nathan's lucky I didn't take him out just tryin' to slow me down." At that comment, Chris' mouth quirked into a slight smile. Buck was right about that. Jackson was lucky. Larabee definitely owed him one.

"All I know is this boy's hurt real bad. . .but. . .he's made it through surgery and he's still breathin' and his heart's still beatin' and that's all that matters." Wilmington looked to his friend, whose expression was that of obvious concern as well as unease. "Ain't it?"

Before Larabee had the chance to respond, Buck suddenly remembered Chris' exact words: 'Did Nathan tell you about the surgery?' He turned to his friend, anxiety burning another hole in his gut. "What about the surgery?"

Chris moved towards the unconscious boy, carefully pulling back the thin blanket covering his injuries and exposing them to Buck for the first time. Chris had already seen the boy's chest wound, couldn't erase its memory from his mind. The horrific image of JD bleeding so profusely – as first Ezra and then Nathan had valiantly tried to stop the incessant flow before the paramedics took over at the scene – permanently etched in his soul.

And now awful wounds in the kid's arm and leg, too. Necessary evils to save JD's life, but it still made Chris sick to look at them. To know that the surgeons had to cut into JD further in order to try to save him, tore at his heart. He knew Buck's would crumble.

Grateful once again for Chris' well-timed and welcome supportive arm, Buck still had to fight his knees from buckling beneath him as he took in the horrific sight. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow mirroring those he continued to wipe from the boy, and small tremors invaded his entire body as his fears melded with stark reality, finding neither hope nor comfort in the image before him.

"Dear God, what did they do to him?" He whispered with mournful incredulity, as his gaze followed the path of the massive incision extending all the way from the hideous wound just beneath JD's collarbone, up and around until it sliced into the boy's biceps. "Chris?"

Larabee swallowed hard. He suddenly wished Nathan was there in his place. Even though the man loved the boy too, the licensed EMT could explain the procedure so much more clearly and with the clinical detachment required to make it all sound so necessary. Instead, the explanation would fall to Chris, even though he shared the revulsion he saw in his old friend's eyes just looking at the incision the surgeons had carved into the boy's chest and arm. And leg. Hell, Buck was so mesmerized by that long, looping cut into the kid’s chest, he hadn't even noticed the equally repugnant one sliced into his thigh. Yet.

Buck's stomach continued to churn as he took in the sight of the long, hideous gash seemingly dissecting the boy's well-muscled chest and arm. Bewilderment mingled with anger and ultimately transformed into full-blown fury when his eyes were finally drawn to the large incision on JD's uncovered thigh. "All right, now. Just what the hell is goin' on here? This ain't no bullet wound," he hissed, his hand hovering shakily just above the stitches in JD's leg.

"Easy, Buck," Chris soothed. "Let me explain." Larabee's efforts to keep his friend calm weren't very successful, so he grabbed hold of Buck's arm and reluctantly dragged him away from the unconscious boy.

Buck initially resisted but immediately realizing Chris' motivation was strictly concern for JD and keeping him undisturbed, he quickly changed his tune and gave in. His voice lost all menace and only defeat and fear remained within it. "What's goin' on? Why’d they have to cut him up like that?"

Glistening green eyes met Buck's intense gaze, both men momentarily rendered speechless by the too-familiar raw anguish mirrored in each other’s faces.

"The bullet did some damage, Buck." Chris' voice was soft.

Buck's eyes immediately shot over to the still form lying on the hospital bed. Before his mind could register that his feet had begun to move, Buck found himself once again at the boy's side, placing the smaller hand in his own.

"Damage?"

Larabee swallowed the block of emotion still taking up residence in his throat. To be honest, he didn't really understand all the ins and outs of the surgery JD'd undergone, just that the doctors never really had any choice in the matter. That wouldn't stop him from telling Buck what he did know, though. "The bullet hit a pretty major artery, pard. Nate knows which one. . .I. . .I'm not sure what it's called," he sighed, not wanting to voice what had been done to the kid. "In order to fix it, they had to take a graft. . .from his leg. . ."

Chris paused again, his heart breaking in the wake of the mournful moan issuing from his oldest friend's throat. God, this was so unfair.

Buck had stopped looking at Chris, could barely hear him for that matter. In a surreal way, he somehow knew Chris was spouting phrases such as 'surgery went well' – 'if the graft takes' – 'he'll need physio' and the ever ominous 'next 24 hours are critical', but the words were just floating around him. He couldn't deal with them yet and would just have to rely on his mind to absorb them until the time he could deal with them.

Right now he was concentrating only on what his heart and soul knew. All he needed to know. The kid he adored was fighting for his life. And that kid's best friend and guardian was going to do everything in his power – from sheer will, to prayer, to words, to touch – to help JD win this fight.

To the mortified Wilmington, the kid looked more like he'd been on the wrong end of an encounter with a knife-wielding psycho than he did a patient of Denver's finest surgical team. God, he looked so bad. And so damn young.

God, JD was just a kid. He had so much yet to see and learn. They both had so much left to do together, so many plans to see through. And one bullet wasn't gonna stop them. Hell, their journey was only just beginning. . .damnit. . .

Buck could feel the tears start to well in his eyes and he simply didn't have the fortitude to fight them.

Leaning in close, Buck draped his arm across JD's pillow, around and down alongside the kid's cheek, nearly encircling the boy's head within his hold. He lightly squeezed the smaller hand still within his own and whispered into JD's ear. "JD. . .you gotta get better for me, you hear?"

Anxious grief consumed him and his soft lilt broke from the immense weight bearing down on his heart. "Aw, kid. What'd you go and do this for, huh? You know ole Buck can't take this kinda worry, son. I. . .ain't gonna lose you, boy."

If Buck hadn't known better he'd have sworn the unconscious youth was settling deeper into the crook of his arm. Both Chris and Nathan had told him JD'd be out for hours yet, after all, so it must have been his imagination. Still, he couldn't help but feel that JD knew he was with him, that he was already reaching him. And that was good.

Releasing JD's hand he placed his own upon the ashen face still within his embrace and tenderly brushed away the fringe of too-long bangs from the boy's eyes. He knew the kid needed to rest, needed a healing sleep as Nathan would call it, but damned if he wasn't so sure that JD really was coming around.

Buck truly didn't want to disturb him but, if he was waking up anyway, the kid would undoubtedly feel better seeing a familiar and friendly face, and so. . .

"JD? You with me, son?"

"Bu – ck?"

The sound was more breathless gasp than spoken word, but its effect on Buck was electric. The veteran cop knew with intimate clarity just how terrifying it could be waking up groggy and in pain, in a strange bed in a strange place after your last conscious thought had been something to the effect of, 'Oh f*ck, I've been hit'.

Immediately shoving his own grief aside, the big man felt a surge of renewed strength and hope. This had become his time to to do what he did best, to take care of the boy and to assure JD that everything was going to be all right.

Because everything was going to be all right.

Ever so slightly, Buck tensed the arm still encircling the boy's head – to let JD know he was there and to let him know that he was safe. "I'm right here, JD. . .I gotcha," he murmured as he bent even closer to the boy's ear. "And I ain't leavin' you, boy."

The mixture of joy, hope and conviction resonating in Buck's hushed voice lifted Chris' heart, nearly as much as JD's eagerly anticipated call for the big man had given the team leader back the ten years he'd lost -- lost when he'd discovered the bloodied and seemingly lifeless body of his youngest agent and friend, held within Ezra's embrace on a warehouse floor just hours before.

Despite his own mounting desire to talk to the kid, to tell him how proud he was of him and to simply be there at the moment when JD's eyes would open, seeking out the reassurance, love and faith ever-present in Buck Wilmington's face, Chris placed a strong, comforting grip on Buck's neck and whispered his intent to leave his two friends alone. From the sound of the boy's excruciatingly weak voice, to the remembered speech of the vascular surgeon, Larabee knew that JD would drift back to sleep within seconds. Chris would leave those few precious moments to Buck.

Besides, he still had plenty of time to talk to JD. . .

. . .he prayed.

JD was so very confused. He knew it had something to do with how impossibly heavy his head felt. Mind you, he wasn’t exactly sure if clarity was actually the direction he wanted to go though, either. He knew there was excruciating pain waiting for him. Hell, it was already taunting him, just at the edges of his consciousness. He could understand – vividly remembered, actually – why his chest felt like he’d been impaled by broad-sword, but he had absolutely no idea why his arm and leg were starting to ignite, too. He’d only been hit once. . .as far as he knew.

Was he so messed up that he couldn’t even remember more shots? And if that was the case, then how could he believe anything his muddled mind was telling him? He was certain he'd just heard his best friend's soothing voice, felt that gentle and familiar touch on his cheek and brow, and even wrapping around his fingers, too. Despite the big man’s rough and powerful hands, their warmth always brought JD comfort.

He'd almost believe that Buck's big arms had hold of him now, bestowing his boundless strength and keeping JD safe, all at the same time.

The kid wanted so desperately to believe Buck was there.

But big brother wasn't there. He'd gone to court to give his testimony and it was going to take at least a full day for him to do it. The D.A. had told them that. At least one whole goddamn day.

So, could it be that it was Ezra still holding him? He didn’t think so. He remembered that Nathan and Chris had come for him, too. After. Hadn't they? Hadn't he talked to Chris? Made him promise not to yank Buck outta court until he was through?

Even if it meant he wouldn’t see his best friend for a while, JD knew he could hang on and wait. He had no plans on dying, that was for damn sure. But once Buck arrived, the kid knew he couldn’t handle him having to leave again. JD couldn’t handle being that hurt and that scared again – alone. No, JD Dunne never wanted to feel that utterly and desperately alone again. Ever.

He could remember lying there on the cold concrete floor, too breathless to speak, let alone call out for help from his friends. And he remembered watching with stark mind-boggling horror, as the pool of blood – his blood – grew all around him, trailing away from him and taking his life with it, inch by inch. It had been as if the fire in his chest were subsiding in direct proportion to the enlarging pool surrounding him, and he'd known in that moment that he'd have rather felt the agonizing fire than face the alternative, if given the choice.

And despite Ezra's welcome and calming voice, and his strong arms holding him and pressing against the crater that must have been in his chest, JD remembered thinking about Buck. How he'd wished Buck had been there with him instead. It wasn't the Team's fault – he knew that without a doubt – but Buck simply wouldn't have let him bleed so long like that, and he would've found him first, right quick. Hell, Buck Wilmington would've somehow made sure JD hadn't taken the bullet that apparently bypassed his vest in the first place.

With that thought, he was reminded again at how he'd laughed in Ezra's arms, despite the stabbing pain coursing through him as he did so. He might've been delirious or hysterical, he wasn’t sure, but his laughter only intensified as JD caught the look of utter bewilderment on Ezra's face. He couldn't help himself at the time. Knowing just how pissed Buck was gonna be when he found out the vest had failed his kid brother, had warmed JD's freezing body and his slowing heart, and he had actually felt a surge of sympathy towards the folks who supplied the Denver ATF their vests. Almost.

Buck was as easygoing a man as could be, but when confronted with a threat or injury to someone he cared deeply for, the man was as volatile as Chris Larabee on even his worst day. And JD knew without a shadow of a doubt that Buck Wilmington cared for no one more than he did the kid who slept under his roof. His sometimes overbearing, oft times over-protective, but always undeniable love for JD was practically legendary. And it was something JD thrived on.

The kid hadn't felt anything like it since his mama was alive. Even then, Buck's feelings for JD somehow held more power. Maybe it was because that unconditional affection hadn’t ever been expected or asked for? Or maybe because it came from one of the strongest people he knew. Someone whose open adoration for a kid somehow never seemed to diminish him in any way in the eyes of others. Never made him any less a man, and only made JD admire him even more than he'd already had when he'd first joined the legendary team.

Whatever the reason, JD felt damn near invincible when Buck was around. Sure it helped that he knew he wasn't any slouch in his own right. Willfull, cocky and too damn smart for his own good were some of his most admirable, as well as exasperating, attributes. Buck figured he'd gotten them from his mama and JD pridefully couldn't deny it.

Still, when the two of them teamed up was when JD felt his strongest, and even his happiest. He couldn't really explain it, but it was like they fed off of each other's energy and strengths, bringing out the best in each other. And they could always bring the other up when one of them was feeling a little down.

God, what he could do with some of Buck's strength right now. But Buck wouldn't be there yet. Hell, if Chris kept his promise, JD'd made sure of it.

Until Buck was through testifying, he'd might as well just go back to sleep. ‘Cause without Buck, sleep was about the only thing that would keep the steadily encroaching pain at bay.