RATING: PG13

DISCLAIMER: The Mag7 guys are not mine, they belong to TPTB. No profit is made off these stories.

WARNINGS: A bit of violence and mild language.

COMMENTS: I promise this is the LAST ONE! I have to stop doing this to myself, although it has been fun. This is a birthday story for my pal Cindy (Happy Birthday!), a fellow Darlin’ who loves JD h/c and angst almost as much as I do. <g> Thanks as always to my extraordinary betas, Marla and Shellie for their advice, wisdom and encouragement.

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PART 1

Buck watched the last man fall, the body crumpling to the ground in a breathless heap. Gunpowder and the coppery stench of blood assaulted his senses, but he shoved aside the nausea and headed for the huddled form he knew was just behind the stairway. Officers’ and agents’ panicked voices mingled in the air, but Buck was on a mission. The bad guys were dead and there was nothing left between him and his best friend now.

Buck stopped short when he saw the kid curled up in a tight ball, his arms wrapped protectively around the little girl, rocking the child’s limp form. Wilmington moaned when he noticed the dark blood still pouring from the side of her head and the stain soaking into J.D.’s white shirt he as he cradled her against his chest. Buck gently put his fingers against her pale throat, knowing already that it was too late.

J.D. stared up at him, his hazel eyes glazed with pain and terror. Buck shook his head sadly as he placed a supportive hand on J.D.’s neck; the little girl was gone. The young agent didn’t say a word. Instead he pulled her closer, resting his chin on her dark curls as he continued to sway as though he were simply trying to soothe a cranky baby.

They’d all seen the child run toward the door. She’d obviously been panicked by the gunfire, and in her young mind home probably seemed like the safest place to get to. Tragically that haven was right in the middle of a bust that had gone terribly wrong.

Apparently J.D. had seen her first and did exactly what Buck had drilled into his skull that he should never, never do. He dove headlong into the gunfight.

Buck had heard Chris’ panicked and enraged voice behind him and looked up in time to see J.D. move away from the cover of the police cruiser and into the street. Panic stole his breath and he watched in horror as J.D. snatched up the small girl then ran straight for the cover of the concrete stairwell she had desperately tried to reach. Buck knew J.D. had heard him, yet the fool kid continued to move away from the car and out into the street.

Buck doubted he’d ever tell J.D., but he remembered thinking that was the bravest thing he had ever seen anybody do. Pride had been replaced with terror as one of the gunmen had turned his automatic weapon toward the pair. He had held his breath when J.D. hit the pavement on one knee, then dropped behind the safety of the cement steps.

Nathan appeared beside him, breaking his reverie. A barrage of officers and paramedics immediately loomed above them. Buck felt J.D. tense and cling even tighter to the little girl.

Nathan positioned himself between J.D. and the strangers, tenderly unraveling J.D.’s grip on the child. "Let me have a look at her, son."

J.D. sucked in a deep breath and slowly relinquished his hold and let Nathan lift her from his arms. The paramedics quickly took her to the waiting ambulance, but Buck could tell from the look on their faces, they weren’t holding out any hopes either.

"Help her, Nathan." J.D. whispered, his eyes pleading.

"They’re taking care of her. Are you hit?"

"No." Buck felt J.D. try to stand, his body shaking uncontrollably from the effort and worry seized Buck’s heart.

"Hang on, kid." Buck rose with him, helping the youth to his feet.

J.D. stood on wobbly legs and turned to Buck, his eyes wild and unfocused, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. "Did I save her?"

Buck didn’t know what to say. His emotions swelled and he felt the tears burning in his eyes, but he knew now was not the time to lose his composure. He looked desperately to Nathan for help.

"You did real good, J.D." Nathan ran his hand over J.D.’s face and through his hair, comforting the kid and looking for injuries at the same time.

"Real good." Buck echoed and pulled the young man into his chest with a supporting embrace. J.D. melted into his protective arms and Buck hung on to him as if both their lives depended on it. The boy’s breaths continued to come in labored gasps and Buck could feel his hot tears as they soaked through the layers of his shirt. "Shhhh, it’s ok, son."

"I think he’s in shock, Buck, he needs to go to the hospital." Nathan’s words cut through his brain as swift and noisy as a band saw. He watched one of the medics approach them rolling a stretcher.

"Is he hurt?" Buck said to no one in particular, barely hearing his own words for the continuous buzzing in his skull.

"Can’t really tell, he’s covered in blood, but I ain’t sure if any of it’s his. He’s just not actin’ right though."

Buck carefully helped the dazed kid onto the stretcher and moved aside just enough for the paramedics to secure the straps on the gurney. J.D. didn’t say a word as he gripped the older man’s shirt and stared up at his best friend, his eyes haunted and distant, reflecting the painful struggle in his soul. Buck fought to suppress his own emotions as he felt tears welling up hot and thick and blurring his vision.

"I’m goin’ with you, kid. I never was one to pass up a free ride in a vehicle that runs more red lights than I do." Buck forced a smile and brushed aside the blood and sweat-matted hair from J.D.’s face, surprised at the coolness of his flushed skin.

The words seemed to settle J.D. and he closed his eyes. Buck gently uncurled the boy’s fingers from his shirt as he was loaded into the ambulance. He took a deep breath as he climbed in behind the medics, already steeling himself to help J.D. through the aftermath.

*******

Somewhere in the back of his mind, J.D. knew exactly what was happening as he was wheeled into the bright lights of the trauma room. He heard the chaos around him as he was hooked up to monitors. He felt the unnerving and painful process as needles and tubes and leads were placed all over his body. God he hated this.

He heard someone talking to him, but he couldn’t make his mouth work in coordination with his racing thoughts to answer their questions. Damn, he couldn’t even tell if he was saying anything really. He wanted to help them out, but he was just so tired he couldn’t even keep his eyes open.

Visions played on the back of his eyelids, recreating the gun battle, the streak of dark hair tied in colorful ribbons as the little girl ran out into the open. His chest tightened at the memory, as he hastily made a decision borne of pure instinct, and broke cover. He remembered thinking Buck was going to kill him, but that only made him sprint faster as he grabbed up the kid in one smooth motion. She was so light and he had lifted her effortlessly without ever breaking his stride.

The sound of gunfire echoed in his head, actually louder now than it had been in reality. He had felt a stab of pain in his left shoulder, then a horrible burning pressure in his right hip that had dropped him to the pavement. He’d been close to the stairs though, close enough to carry her to safety.

J.D. moaned as a renewed fire in his upper thigh jerked him mercilessly back into the present. He instinctively tried to pull away, but he was held fast by firm hands.

"No, no, no…" He heard his own voice in the distance, protesting, begging to be left alone, but he knew from experience they wouldn’t listen to his pleas.

"Oh, God!" He was sure he screamed the words that time, as fingers dug into the wound in his hip and more agony surged through his entire right side. He tried to roll over and escape the touch, but again strong hands kept him flat and helpless as they continued the necessary torment.

J.D. cringed at the thought of the little girl withstanding similar pain. He was a grown man and this was unbearable torture; he didn’t want to imagine the suffering that had been forced upon her.

He remembered a sharp pinch in his shoulder just before blood had flooded his sleeve and he’d wondered then if he’d been shot. He hadn’t considered it was the little girl who had been hit, until he stopped running and looked down at her; another gush of blood had drenched his shirt as he rolled her head toward him. J.D. had let loose with a few choice words his mother probably would have washed his mouth out for. Then again he figured, under the circumstances, she really would have understood.

J.D. tried to dislodge the horrible memories. He tried to block out the sound of her pitiful whimpers as he pressed his palm against her temple, trying to keep the blood trapped inside her tiny body. He could still see the ghostly face staring up at him, dark eyes streaked with red as if the blood he was keeping inside was determined to spill out from behind their sockets. J.D. had seen the confusion disappear from her milky face, the shock and terror in her eyes dissolve into a vision of peace as she reached up and touched his face. He could still feel the stirring vibration deep in his soul as she barely brushed the stubble on his cheeks.

He had known then she was dying. He remembered rocking her, trying to will life back into her even as he felt it slipping from her fragile body, through his fingers and into heaven’s waiting arms. He had wanted to cry then, but he couldn’t. He knew she was dead. He’d known it then, known it even when he asked Nathan to help her. Still J.D. had wanted it to only be a bad dream, nothing more than a consequence of falling asleep in the middle of a horror movie. He’d hoped to just wake up in a cold sweat, lying in his own bed, where a shake of his head would be enough to dissipate the lingering images of this nightmare.

Another stabbing pain in his hip and a rush of cold air chilling his exposed body let him know just how real this all was. He felt the tears break past the barrier of his closed lids and fought not to break into childish sobs. He had tried. God, he had tried so hard to save her.

All he wanted right now was for her to wrap her thin arms around his neck as he carried her to her relieved and grateful parents. He wanted to scold her for running into the line of fire like that, wanted to tell her she would be lucky to see her next birthday if she kept pulling stunts like that. The same, yet certainly less sanitized, version he was sure he would eventually get from his best friend and his boss.

Oh, God.

Desperation and misery seized his heart as he thought about how that little girl would never make another mistake, never see another birthday or put her arms around anyone’s neck again. Oh, God.

J.D. didn’t care about maintaining his pride anymore. All that mattered was that the child was dead and he couldn’t do anything to change it. The dam burst and J.D. let it. He didn’t care anymore. He was grieving for a life that never had a chance; a waste of human promise that he came so close to preserving, but not nearly close enough.

He immediately felt the comfort of hands wiping away the tears that continued to fall, voices trying to console him, but they didn’t understand. He was sure they only thought he was crying because he was scared and hurting, which was true, but the throbbing agony in his hip and the relentless pounding in his head were nothing compared to the gaping hole torn out of his heart.

And no words or drugs they could give him could ease that.

*******

"Mr. Wilmington?" Dr. Laura Wardloe approached the group of exhausted agents. Despite her smile, Buck’s breath still caught in his throat.

They’d been waiting for less than an hour, but it seemed like an eternity. Buck began to tremble as Dr. Wardloe shook his hand. They all knew her, just as they knew most of the doctors who worked in this hospital. Buck always thought she was nice and competent enough, but right now he just wanted her to spill it and stop with the politeness.

"Is he all right?" Buck licked his lips, trying to work up moisture in his parched mouth.

"He’s not in any immediate danger." She reached out and touched Buck’s shoulder and he relaxed slightly. "Mr. Dunne has a superficial wound on his upper arm, but he is going to need surgery to repair some lacerations and remove the bullet in his right hip. I didn’t see any extensive damage, but there are some abnormalities in the X-rays that need to be explored."

Buck caught the brief hint of panic that flashed through Chris’ eyes and knew exactly what his friend was thinking. Apparently so did Dr. Wardloe.

"I’m confident he will be up and walking as good as new in a few weeks. He’s going to be extremely sore for a while, so you’ll have to take it easy on him."

Buck smiled as he heard a collective release of breaths from the men behind him.

"Right now though, I’m much more concerned with his emotional state. He’s either unwilling or unable to answer our questions and he doesn’t seem to comprehend when we try to explain what we need to do. I was hoping you’d be able to settle him down before he’s taken to surgery."

Buck moved toward the swinging doors before the doctor had finished her sentence. He should have known J.D. needed him, should have made them let him stay when they’d first arrived. Poor kid.

He paused inside the doors, letting Dr. Wardloe catch up before following her through the drawn white curtain. Buck thought he had steeled himself to be strong for his friend, but the sight of J.D. lying there, tears forming wet trails of misery down his still-flushed cheeks made the older man’s limbs weak and he rested against the bed rail for support. Buck averted his eyes for a moment, unknowingly resting his gaze on the blood-splattered floor and the gore encrusted clothing they’d cut off of his friend.

Buck took a cleansing breath and turned back to J.D.

"J.D.?" He clasped J.D.’s clammy hand and squeezed it gently, careful to avoid the tubes and wires that surrounded the helpless boy on the gurney. "You’re gonna be fine, son."

Buck tenderly wiped at the tears still streaming down the kid’s drawn face. "Just try and relax as much as you can and let these people take care of you, ok?"

J.D. opened his eyes and stared blankly at his best friend. Buck tried to grin, tried to show him he believed he was going to be just fine. Who was he kidding? He knew J.D. could read his apprehension as clearly as a subtitle in a foreign movie.

Dr. Wardloe leaned over J.D., shining a light in one eye, then the other. "We need to take you up to surgery now, Mr. Dunne."

She smiled broadly and Buck figured that had to be the most absurd thing she could have done. It was like she was telling him he’d just won the lottery or a trip to the Playboy mansion or something.

"We need to repair the wound in your hip. It’s not too serious, but we need to get the bullet out and make sure nothing else is damaged, ok?"

Her sunshine and roses attitude was annoying. She was making it sound like putting him under and cutting him open was something he should be thanking her for. Buck knew deep down that she was trying to project a positive attitude for her patient. He should be grateful, he told himself, not a prick about the whole thing. Seeing J.D. like this didn’t exactly bring out his most tolerant side. Buck never could handle worry very well.

Buck watched J.D. as the doctor talked to him. He knew the kid was scared, hell, he knew anybody with half a brain would be terrified and a damn liar if they said any different. He also knew J.D. would try and hide that fear as much as he could. Of course Buck had long ago learned to read the truth in his eyes or by the slight tremor in his voice.

Right now, though, J.D. didn’t seem to care what the doctor was telling him. He was tuning it out entirely. Wilmington knew J.D. was grieving for the little girl, probably knew the child was dead and he was mourning her more than his own predicament. He could calm J.D.’s fears, tell him he’d be good as new, but Buck had no idea what to do for the regret eating away at the boy’s soul.

Buck absently squeezed J.D.’s hand as Dr. Wardloe injected a sedative into the IV. God, the kid looked so despondent and depressed. Fear stabbed at his heart as he wondered if J.D. had enough strength or even the will to fight right now. Well, Buck would have to give him back that desire, by damn. He wasn’t about to let the kid give up.

He leaned in next to J.D.’s ear and whispered softly. "You did good today, son. I swear that was the most gutsy thing I ever saw in my life."

J.D.’s gaze connected with Buck’s, and he knew the kid understood, knew he was getting through to his confused and grieving mind.

Buck smiled. "I’ll help you through this, J.D. I promise things’ll get better, just hang in there for me, for all of us. We need you to come back, ok?"

The meds began to take effect on J.D.’s weakened body and his eyes drifted shut.

Buck tousled the boy’s hair affectionately. "Don’t you dare give up, little brother. You just get well and let me worry about everything else right now, ok?"

Buck continued to ramble to the unconscious boy until the gurney had been rolled away and he was left standing in the silence of his own company. Long held back tears finally trailed down the agent’s haggard face. He said a quiet prayer that just this once, J.D. would heed his advice.

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PART 2

J.D. feigned sleep as he listened to the soothing voices of his friends. His leg throbbed, but the pain was bearable enough as long as he didn’t move. Exhaustion and the drugs made it hard to stay conscious, but he knew sleep would bring back the horrific images of what put him here. Yep, it would be better to just let the doctors and nurses think he was still sleeping. Otherwise they’d sedate him, not only making the nightmares worse, but also keeping him captive in a terrifying world of sleep without rest. No, J.D. figured he’d rather lie here and pretend everything was just fine. That the raid had gone off without a hitch. That no little girl had had her brains splattered onto his shirt.

He sniffed and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and tried to dislodge the memory, but there was no escaping it. The voices fell silent and J.D. sensed they were looking at him. He thought about opening his eyes, joining in on whatever discussion Buck, Vin and Ezra had been engrossed in, but he knew better. The minute he let them know he was awake they would be breaking their necks to ask him how he felt, if they could get him something, if he wanted to talk.

J.D. didn’t want to be fussed over or coddled and he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about what had happened. No, thank you. The vivid images replaying in his mind were quite enough to deal with without making them more real with verbal descriptions. Nope. He’d just lie here and take comfort in the fact that at least when he concentrated on their friendly banter and office talk he could force himself to forget. For the time being at least.

The young agent fought against his body's insistence for rest, but with his eyes closed and being forced to lie still from the aching wound in his hip, he quickly lost the battle. He vaguely realized what was happening, yet knew he was powerless to do anything more than give in.

*******

Buck heard the deep sigh from the bed and slapped Ezra on the shoulder. "I knew he couldn’t hold out more than another 10 minutes."

"Good Lord, remind me never to involve him in a ruse." Ezra shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, I ain’t seen acting that bad since daytime television." Buck held up his thumb and forefinger a fraction apart and waved his hand in Vin’s direction. "I came this close to announcing the arrival of Nurse Ratched and her enema bag, just to see how far he’d take it."

"Aw, leave the kid alone. He’s been through enough hell already without us pickin’ on him." Vin’s soft tone pierced through Buck’s heart as the visions of yesterday’s events came drifting back to haunt him.

Buck turned his eyes to the sleeping form on the bed; his playfulness replaced with a deep sympathy for J.D. It had only been eight hours since the raid had gone bad and Buck still struggled with his own sorrow, his own guilt in his inability to protect his best friend. Buck wanted to believe that if he acted like everything was back to normal, the kid would automatically be all right, but instinctively he knew better. Then again maybe he was just being overprotective. It’s not that he expected J.D. to snap out of this. The young man cared too much and too easily took on the burden of the world when he thought he’d failed someone. Buck knew J.D. had risked his life to protect that child and that calling what had happened a failure was the farthest thing from the truth. Of course it would be a long time before J.D. could see that for himself.

Buck had hoped J.D. would open up to him. Let some of the grief out. But the kid hadn’t spoken more than three words when he'd first woke up after the surgery. Buck didn’t have much of a chance to converse with him since J.D. merely looked confused and sad and then drifted back to sleep. The doctor told him it was shock and the pain meds, but Buck knew his friend well enough to realize that drugs or no drugs, J.D. wasn’t acting like himself. Not even close.

*******

Gunfire, panicked screams and the stench of blood assaulted his senses. His vision tunneled as he tried to run, but his body refused to obey his panicked brain’s commands. A flash of light and a heart-wrenching moan made him notice the child in his arms. Her clothes drenched red with blood. He dropped to his knees, throwing his body across hers. Too late, he knew, but it was the only thing he could offer.

Hot pain ripped down his leg as he felt the outline of the bullet entering the side of his hip. He heard himself cry out and fought to drag them both to safety. He slipped in the impossibly huge slick of blood beneath his foot and he knew it was too late. He shook the girl's limp body, trying to will the life back into her, except she was already gone.

"Oh, God…"

*******

J.D.’s steady breathing grew faster and he groaned, digging the heel of his good leg into the mattress and shoving himself toward the wall. "Oh, God…"

Buck put a steadying hand on the kid’s arm and J.D. jerked away as if he’d been touched by a live wire. Vin and Ezra approached the bed, neither interfering, but both ready if the need arose to help.

"J.D., take it easy, just calm down." Buck gripped the boy’s shoulder and gently shook him awake.

Hazel eyes flew open as he sat up, staring wildly at the men around him. His gaze flittering from one side to the other as if he had no idea who they were or where he was.

"Buck, what…?" The question died on J.D.’s lips as recognition and remembrance flooded his features and he began to tremble. "I’m sorry, I…"

Once more the words faded and he became silent again. Buck carefully eased him back onto the pillow, wincing in sympathy at the show of pain on his friend’s face. Buck reached for the call button on the side of the bed, but J.D. grabbed his hand.

"No, I’m fine."

The kid continued to shake and Buck knew he was far from fine, but he knew his pain wasn’t simply physical. Not much a nurse could do to alleviate his feelings of guilt and anguish. Hell, even Buck couldn’t even seem to find the right words to ease J.D.’s suffering. If only he’d seen the little girl first, if only J.D. had been spared this heartache. If only, if only.

Buck let his hand rest on the top of the kid’s head. "Go back to sleep, son."

A brief flash of apprehension crossed J.D.’s pale features before he shut his eyes and rolled his face into the pillow. Buck looked up at Vin and Ezra, the same helplessness he felt lay mirrored in their eyes. As much as he wished it away, nothing would ever change what was. Now he just had to find a way to help the kid get through this…with his spirit intact.

*******

Josiah maneuvered through the hospital corridor with the easy stride of someone who’d been through them too many times. That was certainly the truth. He never got used to seeing one of his teammates, his friends, lying in one of these beds. Hoped he never did.

Of course, this had been one of J.D.’s milder injuries. Serious and painful, but not life threatening. Still, Josiah couldn’t help but worry about the boy and what he’d been through. Buck appeared to be at wit’s end because he couldn’t make things right this time, but the seasoned agent realized the deep grief that lay in J.D.’s soul. Now if only that knowledge could do him any good in getting through that barrier of indifference J.D. had encased himself in.

The big man eased past the entrance into the room. The lights were off, but the glow of the television flickered across the bed and Josiah shook his head knowingly as J.D. quickly shut his eyes as the door creaked open.

"It’s just me, son." Josiah laughed softly and J.D. turned to look at him.

"Oh, good."

"Brought you some decent food." Josiah held up the greasy bag that filled the room with the aroma of cheeseburgers and onions, yet J.D. still didn’t smile.

"Thanks, I’ll get it later." His voice sounded dispassionate and frail; not like J.D. at all.

Josiah nodded and set the food on the nightstand and dropped into the oversized chair next to the bed. Buck had asked him to talk to J.D., see if he’d have any more success in getting him to open up about the incident. Yet, Josiah wasn’t sure J.D. was ready. Like most young men, he would try to deal with the hurt himself first. No matter how much it pained the rest of them, they’d all just have to be patient until J.D. wanted to confide in them.

J.D. handed Josiah the remote. "You can change the channel if you want, I’m not really interested in this anyway."

Josiah placed it back on the tray in front of J.D. "This is fine."

The pair sat in silence, both pretending to be engrossed in the barely audible hockey game above them. Josiah watched J.D.’s lashes flutter as the boy struggled to stay awake, dark sunken shadows under his eyes giving testimony to Buck’s concern that he hadn’t been sleeping well. Twenty minutes or more passed without a word and Josiah fought against his own heavy eyelids.

"Josiah?" J.D.’s hushed voice drifted in his ear.

"Yes, son?"

"Did Buck send you to talk to me?"

Josiah sighed. Never could pull anything over on this kid. "He’s just worried, J.D. You know how much Buck hates to see anybody hurting, especially you."

"I know. I just can’t stop thinking about that little girl, how scared she was, how she felt knowing she was gonna die…" J.D.’s words trailed as he wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"J.D., I don’t have to tell you that innocent people die, that children are too often the victims of violence. It’s deplorable and unfair, but we can’t always change the way things are. We have to distance ourselves or we’d be overwhelmed over and over again everyday." Josiah shifted his weight in the chair, turning his body toward J.D. "But then a tragedy like this gets thrown in your face and it steals that distance. Makes you stop and reassess your priorities and makes you wonder what you’re even here on earth for."

"What am I here for, Josiah?"

"To be a friend, to help people." The answer flowed from Josiah’s mouth without hesitation. "Sometimes that’s the most important reason of all."

"But I didn’t help her." J.D.’s voice cracked and he rolled his head to stare at the television.

"Oh, but you did. Just because you couldn’t keep her alive doesn’t mean you didn’t help. And it doesn’t mean her life still can’t affect those who loved her."

"I understand that, Josiah, honest I do. It just doesn’t change the way I feel right now. There’s a sadness that I can’t seem to break free of no matter how I try to rationalize it all. And then…then I get mad. Mad at myself for not being able to protect her; pissed off at her parents for letting her out of their sight long enough to run into a shootout, and really infuriated at the assholes who killed her." J.D.’s voice grew louder as he sat up to face Josiah. Passion burned in the kid’s liquid eyes, mirroring all the grief and fury that boiled in the cauldron of his soul. "Why are they still breathing, still eating and laughing while an innocent little girl won’t ever get to do any of those things again? Why are they still alive, Josiah?" J.D. softened his tone as he blinked away brimming tears. "Why am I?"

"I don’t know, son. I know sometimes it may seem that I have all the answers, but I’m pretty much as in the dark about the why of things as you are. I guess I’ve just had a little more time to think about the questions." Josiah leaned forward and grasped the bed rail. "I can only say that one’s darkest moments reveal where the true soul lies. And your soul is one of the kindest and purest I’ve ever seen, J.D. Maybe that’s why you’re still here. To share that with a world that has too few people like you."

"Yeah, right." J.D. locked eyes with Josiah, a hint of understanding shining in those hazel depths. "Just wish things weren’t so complicated."

"Son, life is filled with obstacles to overcome, joy mixed with heartache, understanding intertwined with confusion and doubt. If it wasn’t, it might be easier to take, but what would be the point?"

*******

He knew Josiah was right, but it didn’t do a lot to ease the steady ache gnawing in J.D.’s heart. Allegories and logic might eventually make sense, but right now they weren't much more than a thin balm on a severed limb. He knew that the open wound would have to heal before the hurt really went away. Only the way he felt right now he wondered if he’d ever heal, if the nightmares would ever stop, if the regret would ever disappear.

"Hey kid..." Buck’s voice entered the room before his lanky frame cleared the doorway. He hesitated then began to back out when he noticed Josiah sitting next to the bed. "Oh, hey, Josiah, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?"

J.D. shook his head. "No. We’ve already had our talk."

Buck faked surprise, but J.D. could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he realized he’d been busted. "Good news, son, there’s a rumor you’ll get sprung from this joint tomorrow morning if you play your cards right."

"Tomorrow?" J.D. didn’t try to hide the disappointment in his voice. He’d hoped to go home after doctors’ rounds this evening. At least then he could be miserable in his own bed.

"Guess you’ll have to put up with me snorin’ on the couch one more night."

J.D. knew Buck was baiting him, but he didn’t have the strength to banter right now. It just didn’t feel right.

"J.D., there’s some people outside who'd like to meet you. I told ‘em I’d see if you were up to it." Buck’s voice lowered as he took on a more serious tone.

J.D. shook his head and frowned. He felt like shit and knew he probably looked even worse. He had no desire for company other than the guys who routinely had the privilege of seeing him grumpy, groggy and miserable, with IVs and drug-glazed eyes. Anyone else could wait until he’d had a bath and a shave and wore real clothes that didn’t expose his backside.

"Listen, J.D., these folks have been waitin’ since…" Buck’s words trailed into a whisper before he stopped.

An icy chill settled in J.D.’s spine as he realized exactly who waited on the other side of that door. He stared up at Buck, shaking his head. He couldn’t face them. Not yet, maybe not ever. Their daughter died in his arms and he couldn’t save her. Meeting her parents face to face would only make things worse for all of them.

"Now, hang on, son. They just want to thank you."

"Thank me?" J.D. interrupted Buck, not trying to hide the astonishment in his question. "I didn’t do anything they need to thank me for, Buck."

"Let them be the judge of that, J.D." Josiah smiled.

"Just talk to ‘em for a few minutes, it might even make you feel better too." Buck leaned in, arching his eyebrows in anticipation.

J.D. had no idea what they wanted to thank him for or how it would ease his guilt, but maybe it was something they needed to do. Closure. Talk to the last person who saw their daughter alive, all that kind of psychological reasoning stuff Josiah was always going on about.

"All right." J.D. nodded, then painfully pulled himself up higher in the bed and ran his fingers through his wayward hair in a futile attempt to make himself presentable. "Stick around though, ok?"

Buck grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Sure, kid. You’ll be fine."

Josiah held open the door and motioned the visitors inside. J.D.’s heart thumped against his breastbone and he fought to keep the dizziness at bay as the young couple tentatively approached the bed. The man moved with his wife as if they had been fused hand to shoulder in a symbolic display of solidarity and heartache.

J.D. opened his mouth to speak, but even something as simple as hello refused to pass his lips when he locked eyes with the grief-stricken woman. She grasped his hand between her palms, her eyes filling with tears as she smiled at him. J.D. pulled in a deep breath and tried to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to betray his fragile layer of calm. His manly instincts told him he needed to comfort them, needed to stay strong because they were the ones who had lost so much. Except the pain in his heart made him feel more like a lost child than a grown man.

"Her name was Lisa." The woman’s lip quivered and the image of her face blurred through the tears J.D. tried in vain to hold back.

"I’m sorry." He heard his voice crack and felt Buck’s hand gently squeeze his shoulder. "I’m just so sorry."

It sounded shallow, not nearly enough to say to someone whose world had been devastated. Truth was, he couldn’t think of anything else. What do you say to someone who has to bury their little girl? His heart ached with sincerity, but mere words fell short of what he needed to tell them.

"We wanted to thank you." The man spoke up, his own voice breaking with emotion. "For trying to help our little girl."

J.D. shook his head. "But I didn’t…I couldn’t save her. I’m so sorry."

"But you were there." The man closed his eyes briefly as he searched for the right words. "Because of you, she didn’t die alone. And from what we've been told, you did everything possible to make her last moments less frightening. It’s something my wife and I would have prayed for someone to do for her if we couldn’t."

The woman fumbled through her purse, her fingers landing on a small color photograph. She laughed through her tears as she handed the picture to J.D. "She turned six last week. These were her first school pictures."

J.D. glanced up at his friend. Buck apparently sensed his uneasiness and moved his hand to grip the back of J.D.’s neck. The silent transfer of strength bolstered his courage and he took the photo.

It all seemed surreal. This couldn’t be the same little girl who’d died in his arms. No, this one had brilliant brown eyes, pink cheeks and a smile so wide it almost engulfed her face. He stared at the image unable to look away. Her curly locks fell across her forehead and the collar of her bright red jacket folded upward; the only imperfection in a photo that would be etched in eternity.

"She’s beautiful," J.D. said, the spell broken and the building tears finally dropping onto the sheets. He bit his lip to stop the trembling as he handed the picture back.

"No, I want you to have it." The woman shook her head and pushed his hand toward his chest. "I want you to remember her the way we do."

J.D. nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice. The photograph showed him too much joy and promise forever trapped in those dark eyes; too much life that he’d seen drain onto the dirty sidewalk. Too much pain to hold in his own heart. He couldn’t tell her he didn’t want the photo. He could never be that cruel, because they’d never understand that the last thing he wanted was to remember Lisa at all.

*******

Morning sun flooded the glass walls as Chris made his way into the hospital elevator and pushed the button for J.D.’s floor. He felt a twinge of nerves and chastised himself. He was just going to tell J.D. that he was proud of him, tell the young agent that he’d put him in for a commendation for trying to save that little girl. Of course, Chris didn’t often let his men know that he admired them, but J.D. seemed to need that reassurance more than the others. Perhaps it was because he was so much younger than his teammates or that he took things to heart that older men had learned to cast aside or shut away. Maybe it was because his youth and enthusiasm hid the inner strength Chris knew resided in J.D.’s heart that set his own protective hormones into gear. The kid would survive this. Like all the other traumas he’d lived through in his young life. Still it didn’t make watching him suffer any easier.

The doors spread and he stepped into the lobby. Larabee knew J.D. was getting out this morning and he hoped to catch him before Buck had a chance to spill the beans. Chris shook his head at the memory of Wilmington’s beaming face when he'd mentioned putting J.D. in for the Award of Valor. You’d have thought the commendation was for Buck the way the big man beamed when Chris told him what he’d done.

Chris found J.D. still lying in bed, fully dressed in sweatpants, matching oversized sweatshirt and denim jacket, waiting for the obligatory wheelchair ride out of here.

"Hey, J.D."

The young man’s head turned. "Oh, hey, Chris."

Chris nodded toward the collection of obligatory gifts and the packed duffel bag at the foot of the bed. "Looks like Buck’s pretty eager to get you home." Chris knew that Buck thought getting the kid out of this oppressive hospital might speed up his recovery.

"Yeah, he’s getting my prescriptions filled and making sure Dr. Wardloe signs my discharge papers before lunchtime."

"And getting her phone number." Chris joked in an attempt to lighten J.D.’s mood.

"Yeah, that too." A half-hearted grin creased the kid’s lips and Chris figured it was a start. "So, was Buck just pulling my chain or did you really put me in for a commendation?"

Chris laughed. Should have known Wilmington couldn’t keep something like that bottled up inside for more than a half an hour. "Yeah, I did. But if you even think about trying anything like that again I’ll demote your ass."

Chris kept his expression stoic, but hoped the sincerity of his words came through.

J.D.’s face flushed slightly from self-consciousness and his eyes brightened enough to give away the fact he was flattered.

"I thought I was already at the bottom of the totem pole." J.D. teased, his voice strong, but lacking conviction.

"At least you’re not cleaning toilets with a toothbrush – yet." Chris cocked his head and gave him a pretend glare.

"Maybe I should be." J.D.’s mood turned dour again as he swung his legs to the side of the bed, wincing at the obviously painful movement. "I don’t deserve any commendation, Chris. I wouldn’t feel right accepting it."

Chris’s eyes fell to the discarded photo resting on the nightstand and he picked it up. He understood J.D.’s reluctance to keep such a reminder, but felt it just might help more than it hurt.

"J.D., you didn’t kill her. You did the right thing, maybe not the smartest, but right. And don’t believe for a second that someone else could have prevented the inevitable. At least you tried."

J.D. hung his head briefly then faced Chris. "I know that. Logically I really do, but I keep wondering what I should have done differently. If I should have moved in quicker or a fraction of a second slower, knocked her down and shielded her out in the open instead of trying to get to cover. Something, anything other than what I did."

"Bullshit. How many times have I told you not to second-guess yourself? You’ve had plenty of time to think about what you might have done, to mull it over and over until you make yourself crazy. But the truth is, you had all of two seconds to react out there. You did what you had to do, what you thought would save that girl, and you made that decision in those two seconds, J.D. Most people can’t decide if they need to take a piss in twice the time."

J.D. closed his eyes tight and Chris raised his voice to break through the kid’s denial. "I expect you to be mad, to feel grief…hell a child died. But it wasn’t because of you; it was in spite of you. You have to let it go, remember what happened and make a different choice next time and accept the fact you did the best you could."

Chris let out a long breath and sat down next to J.D. "Remember the failures, J.D., they’ll make you a better agent and a better man."

Silence, then J.D. shook his head and chuckled slightly. "You’ve been hanging around Josiah too long."

"What?" Chris feigned hurt. "You think I can’t spout that shit on my own?"

"Well, up until that last line I might have bought it." J.D. looked over at him, his eyes finally showing the spark that Chris recognized.

Chris smiled. The kid still had so much to soak up, so much to learn the hard way, but he was tough and smart and had a more level head on his shoulders than most men ever would. He’d get through it. And he had a team of friends that would see to it.

"Hey, kid, you are so outta here!" Buck’s jovial tone carried through the room. "Chris, so good of you to stop by to help us get all this stuff to the truck."

This one friend in particular. Chris gave J.D. a quick pat on the back and stood up, and extended the photograph toward the young man. J.D. hesitated, then slowly retrieved it from Chris’s fingers and slipped it inside his jacket pocket.

"Uh, is everything ok, here, guys?" Buck’s puzzled eyes swept between his two friends, clearly wondering what exchange he’d obviously missed.

J.D. met Chris’s gaze and smiled. "It will be, Buck. It will be."

THE END

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