It had been another hell of a long day. Chris was running out of excuses for barely moving from his desk for the last two days. He knew they were all wondering why he hadn’t gone with them to the hospital, why he avoided the subject entirely.

He saw the questions in Buck and Josiah’s eyes; the concern in Nathan’s; the anger in Ezra’s; and the quiet understanding in Vin’s. Still there was no way he could explain how he felt. Hell, even Chris wasn’t sure what his tormented brain was trying to tell him. He just knew there was indescribable pain just below the surface and he didn’t want to scratch it enough to find the answer. Not yet.

So he did what he did best: his job. Which included making sure everyone else did their jobs, which made him look like he didn’t care about J.D. Which wasn’t true. Wasn’t true at all, but at least he didn’t have to try and explain himself.

Chris looked at the clock glowing on the dash as he pulled his truck into the parking garage. One-thirty a.m. Right on time.

The halls were quiet except for the scattering of family members shuffling their way to the cafeteria or the lobby for another newspaper to pass the time. They looked at him with understanding half-glances; fear and grief and confusion clearly written in every feature as they smiled to mask the pain. Chris wondered if they could see the same in him. If his emotions were splayed open for their eyes only; a brotherhood of suffering and waiting and praying that it would soon be over and they could reclaim the normalcy their shattered hearts craved.

A fair-skinned nurse winked at him as he walked by her station.

"You certainly keep late hours, Mr. Larabee. Maybe you should try visiting when Mr. Dunne’s actually awake?"

Chris smiled and nodded. "Maybe tomorrow."

"That’s what you said last night." He shook his head as he heard her soft laugh.

"How’s he doin’?"

"Much better, although he won’t be much company tonight either."

"That’s ok. Thanks." Chris let his voice trail as he turned the corner to stand in front of 347. Again.

He figured one more night in that chair wouldn’t kill him. Of course one more night of listening to Buck sweet talk imaginary women in his sleep just might. He was getting too old for all this sneaking around; but he had some things to decide. He needed to think without the distraction of objective opinions from his men. And J.D.’s room in the wee hours of the morning just seemed like the right place. It helped that J.D. was so doped up that he usually slept through the night, ‘cause if J.D. slept, so did Buck.

Chris marveled at his oldest friend’s uncanny ability to perceive exactly when J.D. would need him and how he made it a point to be there. A 7.5 on the Richter scale would have trouble rousting Buck from a sound sleep; yet a minute whimper from J.D. would have him on his feet in a heartbeat.

Chris vaguely remembered that feeling. The one he kept locked deep within himself, but he knew still existed nonetheless. He knew because he felt it now as he watched J.D. sleep. This kid had no business risking his life for a career. No business at all.

*******

Buck was in heaven. He wasn’t sure how he arrived in this scenario, but he wasn’t going to question his luck. Two buxom brunettes tended his wounded shoulder by smothering it with kisses that began along his bruised arm, then slowly spread to his chest and neck. Now, if he could only get rid of the insistent ringing in his ears everything would be just fine.

He absently fumbled for the alarm he knew was near his head, trying to stop the clock before reality reared its ugly head and took these angels of mercy from him. His hand continued to swat at empty air and the girls began to fade into the light filtering through his still closed eyelids.

Damn, stupid buzzing machine! Buck finally resorted to opening his eyes to find the offending appliance, but he sat up quickly as he realized he was still on the hospital couch. The phone. His brain finally clued in to the ring and he fought the entangled blanket covering his legs and made to the nightstand next to J.D.

"Hello." His voice cracked quietly into the receiver, his gaze cutting to J.D., hoping the caller hadn’t woken him up too.

"Buck, I need you in here this morning. Ezra and Nathan have found out where these assholes are gonna strike next." Buck wiped the sleep from his eyes and tried to shake a coherent thought into his head. The only one that prevailed was just how incensed he was at Chris Larabee.

"What time is it?"

"Almost six, be here before eight."

"Gee, so good to hear your voice at the butt crack of dawn. Me? I’m fine. How’s the kid, oh, he’s doin’ all right." Buck poured as much sarcasm as he could muster into his mock conversation. What good was it to be pissed at his oldest friend without letting him in on it? "So who’s gonna stay with J.D.?"

"He’ll be all right for a couple of hours, Buck. That’s what nurses get paid for."

"AGGH. Wrong answer. He ain’t even awake enough to call a nurse if he was havin’ trouble. I ain’t leavin’ him by himself."

"Fine. See if you can get Casey or Nettie to sit with him so you can do your job." Buck flinched at the venom in Chris’ tone as he spit out ‘your job.’ What on God’s green earth was with him?

Buck’s back stiffened and he was glad Chris wasn’t in front of his face because there would have been a knock down drag out right there. Buck had been sitting with J.D. all night. Again. Not that he minded, heck he’d insisted.

"I’ll be there as soon as someone’s here to sit with J.D." Buck put down the receiver before Chris had a chance to argue. Damn him.

It really wasn’t Chris’ ungodly hour phone call that had him in a foul mood. It was just his old friend in general. Chris was pushing the kid away, pushing them all away. It’s not like Buck didn’t understand why, hell Chris was just retreating from the problem the only way he knew how; hiding himself from his grief and burying himself alive in this damn job.

A part of him understood Chris’ actions, but it still upset him how he was ignoring J.D. Like he didn’t want anything to do with him at a time the kid needed them most. If that’s how he wanted to play it, fine, just fine.

Buck moved over to the side of J.D.’s bed and leaned over the railing. Screw Chris, he wasn’t leaving and he wasn’t waking up anyone else this early just because Chris Larabee said jump. Screw him.

J.D.’s face contorted into a display of pain, his eyes straining to open. Buck gently rubbed the kid’s shoulder through the thin hospital gown. "Shhh, just rest, nothing going on you need to worry about."

It wasn’t that Buck didn’t want to talk to the kid. God knows he’d missed the constant chatter. Still, unconsciousness was a much better option than watching him fight the agony Buck witnessed when he was awake. Sleep, kid. Sleep ‘til you’re through hurtin’.

Buck let out a heavy sigh as J.D.’s breathing slowed. He felt taut muscles relax beneath his touch. Thick, dark lashes once again came to rest against pale cheeks as the kid sank back into a restless sleep. Buck pulled the thin blanket over J.D.’s chest and turned to fall wearily back onto the couch. It was definitely going to be another long day.

*******

J.D. tried to force his heavy lids open enough to see who was there – ask them why they were mad. But as soon as he willed them open halfway, the plan backfired and they fell shut again.

He lay still; feeling the weariness in his limbs that only a prolonged stint in bed could provide. He longed to move, just shift his position, but the pull of tubes on what had to be every freakin’ inch of his body stopped him. Dammit. He hated this place. Hated the smell, the sounds and the endless barrage of embarrassing or downright torturous procedures he was forced to endure. He just wanted to go home. Was that too much to ask?

J.D. sighed, pulling in a deeper breath than he’d meant to, and the urge to cough seized his throat. Oh, God, no. He held it back, the fear of the agonizing pain he’d wreak on his abused body wasn’t worth the relief. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry to even open. The familiar rawness in his throat told him he’d probably had a tube stuck there too. Thank God he wasn’t awake enough to remember that suffocating experience.

He tried to open his eyes again, hoping to get someone’s attention. Despite the room’s quietness he knew he wasn’t alone. He very rarely was - at least not while he was in a hospital.

He remembered Ezra telling Chris about some article he’d read about always having someone stay with a patient to make sure the charts weren’t misread and to ask questions about dosages and stuff. Nathan agreed too, but he said it was because the nurses were so busy, they needed a family member to help out. Either way, none of them were ever left alone. J.D. complained about it, but he was secretly glad someone who gave a damn about his welfare was watching out for him. Although the others always did their share too, usually it was Buck who was hovering near whenever he woke up, when he needed reassuring or just help getting a drink of water.

Finally his eyes stayed open and he strained to see if Buck was there now.

"Buck." His voice was weak and low and he wasn’t sure if he’d been heard. J.D. placed his hand against his bandaged side for support as he felt the cough coming back and his control of it slipping away. His body spasmed at the violent movement.

"Ahhhhh!" The cry emerged through gritted teeth as his hips shifted and he felt the pressure of the tube in his side and the pull of damaged abdominal muscles.

"Whoa, easy there son." J.D. felt Buck’s hand on his chest, holding him steady, but he knew he couldn’t move again anyway. His body felt like it was made of lead and that one cough had drained away what strength he might have had left.

J.D. tried to speak, but he couldn’t make his tongue work.

"You want some water?" Buck had either read his mind or realized the reason for his inability to speak.

The older agent gently lifted J.D.’s head and brought the plastic cup to his parched lips.

"Thanks." J.D. sighed as Buck eased him back onto the pillow.

"You need anything else, kid?" Buck’s eager but haggard face grinned at him. "I could get one of the guys to sneak you in some decent food."

J.D. hadn’t realized how empty he felt until Buck mentioned food, but just the thought of chewing and swallowing seemed like too much of a chore. J.D. slowly shook his head.

"What day is it?"

"Sunday - early." J.D. stared up at his friend, confusion wrapping around his mind like thick layers of cotton. Sunday. That means he’d been here since when? He couldn’t think.

"You wanna watch somethin’?"

Buck’s voice sounded far away and J.D. didn’t answer. No, Buck. I want you to tell me what happened, how long I’ve been here, when I’m leaving. J.D. wanted to ask all those things, but he lacked the strength and the breath. Instead he just sunk back into the hardness of the mattress and let out a frustrated sigh.

Buck was still talking, but J.D. didn’t hear exact words; he was too busy trying to concentrate. When did they go to the warehouse? Wednesday, Thursday? Thursday, early, that was it, they got to the warehouse at around six in the morning ‘cause Ezra was complaining all the way over about getting up that early. Thursday then. Friday, Saturday, now Sunday. Geez, he’d been asleep for the better part of the last three days?

"J.D.? Are you listenin’ to me, boy?"

J.D. looked up. "What happened, Buck?"

Suddenly the older agent seemed to be at a loss for words. He cut his eyes toward the floor before moving closer and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You don’t remember being hit?"

"Sort of. I remember being scared, a lot of noise." J.D. closed his eyes, trying to call upon memories his battered mind was desperately trying to keep hidden from him. "Somebody tried to take out Chris. I had to do something."

A surge of panic tightened in his chest and he felt faint. "I’m sorry, Buck."

Buck tilted his head and looked into his eyes. "J.D., you gotta stop apologizing for every damn thing, boy. Ain’t nothin’ your fault so hush sayin’ stuff like that."

"But I wasn’t where I was supposed to be."

"You used your instincts, that’s what a good agent’s supposed to do. You saved Chris’ life, J.D. Things just turned out bad ’s all."

J.D. felt his cheeks redden from the compliment and he managed a slight grin. No drug could have soothed his pain and confusion as successfully as his best friend’s words just did.

"Now don’t go gettin’ all cocky. I’ll still real likely whomp ya for pulling a fool stunt like that." Buck gently slapped his cheek and J.D. smiled widely. Relief flooded through his weak frame and for the first time since he’d been shot, he finally felt like he wasn’t going to die. If Buck was jumping his case, then he must think he was going to be fine; and if Buck believed it, well, he did too.

"Give me a few days…get my wits back, Buck."

"Gonna take more ‘n a few days for you to get anything resemblin’ wits, boy…twenty-something years and you still need advice gettin’ to the bathroom…"

J.D. didn’t want to sleep anymore, but the brief conversation had worn him out and he felt his eyes giving in to his body’s demands. He drifted off to the familiar sound of Buck’s jovial voice ranting on about his lack of common sense; but to J.D., it was music to his ears.

PART 6

The Scorpions’ next buy that Ezra and Josiah had so conveniently found out about had turned out to be a bust all right. More like a set up.

They’d ripped through the doors of the warehouse to find a handful of burly mechanics knee deep in grease and heavy equipment parts. Highly pissed off mechanics too, after they’d been surrounded and had ATF and FBI agents streaming through every entrance shouting ‘freeze.’ Buck figured if the workers had been armed with more than wrenches and hammers there would most likely have been a reenactment of Custer’s last stand right there in that meat locker of a building.

At first they thought it was a cover, until the manager showed them their license and the contract they had with the U.S. government. A complete set up from the get-go and the Scorpions were somewhere laughing their asses off at the elaborate, and Buck had to admit, ironic joke.

Buck saw no amusement in Chris’ eyes. Nothing his old friend hated more than being played for a fool and Buck knew without a doubt they’d forever regret challenging Chris Larabee. These guys didn’t just like playing with fire, hell, they apparently got a kick out of poking the Devil himself in the ass with a stick. Damn idiots.

It was a quiet and mercifully short ride back to the office and Buck wasn’t up for hanging around and trying to second guess these clowns again. He gathered up a large stack of files and tucked them under his arm. Chris was once more shut away in his office and Buck had no desire to remind him of his promise to take him back to the hospital.

"Hey, Ezra. You mind taking me back to see J.D.? I left my truck there."

"Certainly. I was going to drop by anyway, no time like the present." Ezra grabbed his overcoat and quickly escaped into the hallway. Buck figured he’d had enough of Chris’ cranky disposition too.

Buck glanced at the remaining men as they huddled around Vin’s desk, all looking as exhausted and disgusted as he felt. It was already after eight p.m. and they didn’t look like they were going home anytime soon.

"I’ll see you fellas later." Buck nodded toward the group and they grinned slightly.

"Tell J.D. we’re thinking about him." Josiah’s voice was low and full of shared concern.

"I will." Buck held up the folders. "I’ll see what I can find out from this stuff Travis had sent over. Not like I’m gonna get any sleep anyway."

They nodded in unison and Buck pushed open the glass door and joined Ezra by the elevators.

"You guys don’t think I’m neglecting my duties on this one do you?" Buck finally asked the question he’d had on his mind since Chris’ phone call that morning. He knew he sometimes got carried away when it came to looking after J.D. and wondered if the others saw it as a desertion of some kind.

Ezra looked questioningly into his eyes and smiled. "No, Mr. Wilmington. As I see it, you’ve taken on a much more important responsibility than the eventual outcome of this case."

"Thanks." Buck slapped Ezra affectionately on the back as the doors opened and they stepped into the elevator.

*******

J.D. tried to focus on the file resting on his lap, but his head swam from the effort of thinking. He’d awakened early this morning to find Buck and Ezra pouring over a mountain of paperwork. J.D. wanted to pull his weight and insisted they let him help.

Fifteen minutes, damn it. Fifteen minutes and he was already exhausted and a familiar throbbing pain invaded his side. Useless, totally useless. He was so tired of feeling like this.

"Slade Monday? What the hell kinda name is Slade Monday?" Buck chuckled as he flipped through one of the files spread in front of him.

A slight smirk crossed Ezra’s face, but his eyes never left the paper he was reading either. "I seriously doubt his mother abhored him so much as to give him that moniker herself."

"I don’t know. He had to be a pretty homely baby, ‘cause just get a load of ‘im now!" Buck got up and waved the glossy photo in J.D.’s line of sight. "Look, J.D., you ever seen an uglier mug than this?"

J.D. glanced at the picture then rolled his eyes at Buck. "You looked in a mirror?"

"How do you like that, Ezra. I do and do and do for that boy and all he does is sass."

Buck swiped J.D. across the head with the photograph before plopping back down on the couch.

"Perhaps we’re being a bit too boisterous. I’m sure Mr. Dunne’s foul mood might be a reflection of his need of rest." Ezra nodded in Buck’s direction.

"The only thing I’m tired of is laying in this damn bed being useless." J.D. tried to sit up more but his body refused to let him and he collapsed back into the pillow.

"Now, J.D., I must say you look considerably improved from yesterday."

"Ezra’s right, kid. It’s just gonna take time. Dr. Howard said you were doing great, they’re gonna take the drain out tomorrow and you can probably go home Wednesday. You can hold out ‘til then can’t you?"

"Easy for you to say, you’re not the one pissin’ in a bag." J.D. tried to make his words sound as bitter as he felt as he turned his head and closed his eyes. He knew they were right and he was just being a major pain in the ass; but it was so damn frustrating not having enough energy to do much more than breathe. He wanted to rest in his own bed, watch his own tv, go to his own bathroom. He just wanted to feel good; not choose between constant agony or drugged and sluggish.

"Ok, J.D., time to can the attitude." Buck’s words were soft, but J.D. knew he was serious.

He heard Buck’s heavy footfalls as he approached the bed. "Maybe some sleep’ll improve that sour mood." JD felt Buck remove the extra pillow behind his back and ease him flat. "How’s that?"

J.D. felt Ezra gently pat his leg through the sheets and he almost burst into tears. He hated it when they felt sorry for him. He also hated that, even when he acted like a brat, they still tried to make him feel better. His emotions were floating on the surface like driftwood on a rough sea and he wished they’d leave long enough to let him collect himself. He couldn’t face them right now; all he could do was bury his face into his pillow to escape.

"Bath time."

J.D. flinched and opened his eyes wide at the words that sent almost as much terror into his heart as ‘more tests.’ He cringed at the sight of the cart being wheeled in and desperately tried to think of a way out of this.

"Oh, uh, kid, we’ve gotta run." Buck slapped J.D.’s shoulder.

"See if you can scrub off some of that attitude, ma’am." Buck flashed a smile and winked at the rotund black woman as she set up the supplies, before clearing out of the room faster than if he’d heard an announcement of a wet t-shirt contest in the nurses’ lounge. Ezra grabbed the files off J.D.’s bed and left with merely a nod; hot on Buck’s heels.

"You know, I’ve just been laying here, I ain’t really dirty or anything." J.D. hoped his mortification was obvious. Maybe she’d take pity on him and leave.

The woman laughed softly and shook her head. "Now you know they say ‘cleanliness is next to Godliness'."

J.D. swallowed hard as he watched her fill the basin with water and liquid soap. She draped the washcloth over the rim and pushed the cart closer and he began to panic.

"No, really, my fever’s gone, I ain’t sweatin’ at all now." J.D. tried his best sad-eyed puppy gaze, but this lady was tough.

She gently rolled him over with one strong hand and untied the gown at the base of his neck, pulling his arms through the sleeves.

"Now, listen here son, don’t fret none. I got four boys of my own – they’re grown now too, but believe me, you ain’t got nothing ole Dorthea ain’t seen before."

J.D. felt his face flush and he wished the mattress would just swallow him whole so he wouldn’t be forced to endure this mental torture. Dorthea wrung out the cloth and washed his face and neck quickly then lifted his left arm and continued the bath.

"You know you remind me a lot of my youngest boy, Kurt. He’s a little older ‘n you, but he’s got them big doe eyes that he still tries out on me when he wants his way about something."

J.D.’s cheeks burned redder and Dorthea chuckled and reached for his other arm.

"Now don’t go pretending you don’t know what you’re doing – ain’t met a man yet that hasn’t tried that innocent look a million times."

This time J.D. couldn’t help himself and he laughed nervously.

"All my boys tried it constantly, my husband used it everyday for the forty years we were married."

"Did it ever work on you?" J.D. felt himself relaxing slightly in this woman’s care, despite the intimate situation.

Dorthea smiled, apparently pleased to have earned a response.

"Oh, yeah, sometimes. Kurt had his daddy’s looks, plus he was smaller than the other boys. They used to make him ask when they all wanted something."

Dorthea rinsed the cloth and wiped it across J.D.’s shoulders, moving down and over the muscles in his chest before drying him off.

"How’d you get yourself hurt like this?"

"I’m an ATF agent; danger kinda comes with the job." J.D. tried to keep the pride out of his voice, but he wasn’t sure he could.

Dorthea remained silent as she washed his belly and J.D. sucked in a breath as she tenderly ran the cloth around the drain in his side, the soft touch still sending searing pain through his bullet torn body all the way down his legs.

"Ohhhhhh," J.D. couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from his lips as the fire radiated within him. He pressed his head into the pillow and arched his back, waiting for the surge to stop.

"I’m sorry, hon." Dorthea’s voice was sincere as she placed her hand on his head and smoothed his dark hair beneath her fingers. "Young boy like you might ought to see about doing something safer."

Tears welled in his eyes and he could only nod until the wave of agony had subsided and he could tell her he was ok. Dorthea had begun to hum softly, some song J.D. couldn’t recognize, but the sound combined with her caress was soothing. He slowly felt the muscles in his stomach ease and the pain in his side start to abate.

"Don’t think I’d be happier doin’ anything else."

She eased him forward just enough to wipe down one half of his back, then moved to the other side to finish. J.D. held his breath, but the slight movement didn’t cause nearly the pain he’d convinced himself it would.

Dorthea sighed and smiled sadly at him. "Now you really remind me of Kurt."

Dorthea dipped the cloth again and pulled back the sheet covering his legs, rolling the crisp material up to his hips. J.D. let out a sigh of relief that she’d left him covered, but he anxiously bit his lip as she began to soap his left thigh.

"He’s an orthopedic surgeon – always knew that boy’d make something of himself. Knew all my boys were gonna be something. Jonathan, he’s an accountant. That child loved numbers more than candy! I never did understand nothing about math myself."

Dorthea chuckled at the thought as she rinsed the cloth, then reached for the sheet again. J.D. tensed and turned his head. He desperately wanted to believe this was no big deal, but the cool air of the room brushing against his bare groin was just too much. He couldn’t stop the gasp of anguish and embarrassment as he felt the soft material being drawn over and around his privates and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Just relax, young one, like I said, it ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before and will see another fifty times before this day is through." Her voice was light and reassuring, but J.D. couldn’t relax if his life depended on it. He tried to fight back the tears of shame he felt welling up behind his closed lids as she expertly moved the catheter tubing out of her way. "And Martin, he’s an engineer – builds highways and bridges, things like that."

J.D. sniffed and swallowed as hot tears escaped out of the corners of his eyes. He felt her considerate movements over and around his hips. Nausea swelled up inside of him as he compared himself to a helpless newborn and he prayed his humiliation would end soon.

Dorthea quickly dried him off, replacing the sheet over his lower body and he felt himself relax a bit. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping she wouldn’t catch him crying.

She poured a fresh basin of water and lowered the top of the bed until J.D.’s head was tilted toward the floor, then began to wet his hair.

"Did Kurt become a fireman?"

"Yes, hon. He and Charles Sr. fought tooth and nail over it though." The large woman smiled broadly, but J.D. could see the hint of a tear forming in one eye. "Kurt won that argument like he usually did; course I took his side. Shouldn’t have, but I did."

"Why?" J.D. caught a flash of pain in her dark eyes and dread squeezed at his heart.

Dorthea spread the shampoo into her palms and began to soap his hair, her motions matching her voice as she slowly began to speak.

"He got hurt really bad, some arsonist set fire to a warehouse. He was in a coma for two months. Doctors didn’t think he was gonna make it, but he fooled them all." Dorthea winked at J.D., a twinkle replacing the unshed tear.

"That’s awful. Is he ok now?" J.D. liked Dorthea and hoped she realized his questions came from concern, not just morbid curiosity.

"His body healed, but the head injury was too severe they told me. He’s back home with me now."

"I’m sorry." J.D. didn’t know what else to say as Dorthea cradled his head and rinsed away the suds. The woman’s maternal touch made his heart ache for his own mother and a wave of sadness crept over him at the suffering she’d been put through.

"Oh, honey, don’t be sorry. He’s in a special school with his friends all day while I get to tend to hurting folks, hopefully making them feel better."

Dorthea grinned as she raised the head of the bed and began to towel dry J.D.’s soaked hair. "Then I get to go home to my baby’s smile."

J.D. wished he had the words to let her know he grasped the meaning of loss and grief and pain. He looked into her liquid eyes, hoping she read the understanding he was trying to convey.

"I think he’s very lucky to have a mother like you." J.D. smiled at the black woman and her eyes danced.

"Oh, I’m the lucky one, hon. I’m the lucky one."