Chris was lifted from the stretcher onto an examination table, groaning as the movement caused the pain to flare once more.

He felt new hands touching him, poking him, prodding him. He knew he was hurt bad, felt it in every breath he took. He kept trying to track the people above him with his one good eye. His eye stopped on a tall man with a kind face. "H...help."

"We are going to help you. Can you tell me your name, Son?" Mikla asked as he began his cursory examination. His eyes instantly taking in the bone sticking through the skin at the left elbow.

"C...Chris."

"Well, Chris, we've got a lot of work ahead of us but you're going to be just fine. I'm Dr. Mikla and I'll be looking after you."

"H...hurts," Larabee gasped as he felt Mikla touching his throat. He felt someone cutting the remnants of his clothing from his body and cried out as the movement jarred his broken arm.

"Easy, Son," Mikla warned as he listened to the injured man's chest. His face taking on a worried frown when he heard nothing coming from the left side. "We need to insert a chest tube. Burke, what're his vitals? Franklin, I want two IV's and get me two units of fresh frozen Plasma and two units of O negative blood. Make sure it's run through a warmer."

"BP is seventy-eight over fifty. Heart rate one hundred twenty eight. Temperature ninety five." Burke told him.

"Chris, we're going to put you on oxygen and I'm going to insert a chest tube to help you breath," Mikla explained surprised to see his patient was still conscious as he placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He swabbed the area where he'd be inserting the tube and applied a freezing agent. "Just relax and let us take care of you," he told the shivering man.

Larabee nodded, coughing as he tried to take in enough oxygen.

"Almost there," Mikla assured him as he inserted the tube and attached it to the machine next to the bed. As soon as he finished the procedure he once more listened to Larabee's breathing. Satisfied that they'd relieved one problem, he turned to the other problems facing his patient. "I want a full series of X-rays. Skull, chest, everything. Frank, run the IV's wide open. Burke, he's hypothermic, bring a Bair Hugger and cover him with it till we get the X-ray results," he ordered. He could tell by the swelling around both lower legs that the ankles were broken; the right knee had also incurred some damage.

"Yes, Doctor," Frank said.

"I want blood cultures and a viral assessment. There's no telling what he might have picked up in the jungle."

"Yes, Sir," Frank affirmed as he picked up four vials and began taking blood from the injured man.

Burke returned with the Bair Hugger, attached it to a disposable blanket and draped the inflated blanket over the now nude body. He moved out of the way as the portable X-ray machine was moved to the bed.

"Full series, Carter," Mikla ordered as he left the room.

Tanner and Sanchez stood up as the doctor came out of the room. "How is he?" they asked simultaneously.

"I don't know the full extent of his injuries yet. We're doing a complete series of X-rays and I'll know more when we get them and the results of the blood work."

"Will he be alright?"

"Depends on how hard he fights. He's got to want to fight his way back and even if he does there're no guarantees right now. We're going to do everything we can for him, get him stabilized and send him to Pearl Harbor for further treatment."

"Can we see him?" Tanner asked.

"That's out of the question right now. We have a lot of work to do for him before he'll be up to seeing anyone. Why don't you two go get some rest before I end up with two more patients?"

"I'm not going anywhere till I know he's alright."

"Neither am I," Sanchez agreed.

"I could make it an order," Mikla told them.

"But you won't," Sanchez grinned.

"Not at the moment but if you're still here when we're finished with Chris then I will make it an order. This is going to take quite some time and I don't want to be wondering about you two. Try and catch some sleep while you're waiting."

"We're finished, Sir," Burke called.

"I have to get back. Get something to eat and rest," Mikla warned sternly as he went back to his patient.

Tanner watched as Hawkins entered the room. "How's Curran?" he asked.

"Bullet didn't hit anything major. They're performing surgery on him as we speak. Doc says he'll have to stay off it for a few days and give it a chance to heal. Fat chance of that happening."

"Sounds like he doesn't like to be down," Sanchez observed.

"Hates it. Always fights the doctors. Always wanting out before he should."

"You're one to talk, Dale," Leary laughed as he joined the others in the room.

"Vin, sounds like Curran and Hawkins are a lot like you and brother Chris," Sanchez laughed.

"God help the doctors," Leary joined in the light banter, feeling some of the tension leaving them. 

---

Two hours had passed since the injured man was brought in. That he was still alive was a surprise to the people working on him. That he'd regained consciousness and tried to ask about his friends came as an even bigger surprise and the medical team was beginning to believe he'd actually beat the odds.

Mikla studied the X-rays, making notations on the chart as he did so. Larabee had finally succumbed to exhaustion and pain and lost consciousness. His team was busy cleaning the infected wounds on the injured man's back. Some of them were old and seemed to have healed but others were inflamed and raw looking. They'd cleaned the burns, both the electrical ones and the ones caused by excessive heat on his back and chest. Once that was accomplished they slathered the affected area with Flamazine, covering the white salve with saline soaked gauze and following up with dry dressings. He ordered antibiotics given intravenously to try and fight the infection raging through the patient's body. An NG tube was also inserted in order to deliver much needed nutrition to the malnourished body. A Foley catheter was in place and the small amount of urine present was tinged with pink, evidence that there was some damage done to the kidneys. He turned away from the monitor and walked back to the bed and it's hubbub of activity.

"We need to set the right ankle and knee, the left one will probably need pins. I don't want to touch the elbow. We'll leave that and the left ankle for the orthopaedic surgeon when he gets to Pearl Harbor. Any change in his vitals?"

"Body temp is still low registering at ninety five point five. BP up a little at eighty over sixty. Oxygen still hovering at Ninety two."

"Keep a close eye on the oxygen. We may have to intubate and get him on a ventilator if it doesn't pick up soon. Are the blood test results back yet?" He asked as he checked the flow on the packed cells and the blood plasma. Both liquids were being run through a warmer in order to keep the patient's temperature from falling even further. The two IV's were still running wide open in an effort to re-hydrate the injured man.

"I have the lab results right here," Burke said as he hurried into the room.

Mikla studied the blood gases and viral test results. His expert eyes taking in the small inconsistencies and noting how they should be treated. "We can dispense with the collar. X-rays show there's no damage to his spine. He's got three broken ribs on the right side and two on the left."

"That's going to make it mighty uncomfortable for him to move around," Burke commented.

"He won't be moving around much at all in the near future," Mikla stated. "We'll be airlifting him to Pearl Harbor as soon as we've got him stabilized."

Chris wanted to stay under. He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to face the pain he knew would be there to greet him when he did. Without realizing he'd done so a low moan escaped his parched throat.

Mikla was at his side instantly, "Chris, can you hear me?"

He didn't want to answer, but the pain was there, in every part of his body, every nerve ending and he shivered uncontrollably. He groaned as he opened his right eye, trying to focus it on the man speaking to him.

Mikla watched the right eye fight to open, amazed that his patient could accomplish even that little task. The swelling and discoloration around the left eye and temple had spilled over to encompass most of his left cheek and right eye as well. The lone green orb was glazed and he knew Larabee must be suffering from one hell of a headache. He had all the signs of a major concussion, except the vomiting, and that was due to his already empty stomach.

Chris tried to move but his body wouldn't obey his commands. He was a mass of sheer agony and he felt everything Nguyen had done to him. His chest hurt and he struggled to draw in air, coughing and retching as his stomach churned and his lungs ached. "P...please...h...help....hurts..." he mumbled painfully.

Mikla steeled himself against the pleading voice, opening the right eye and shining a light into it. It was sluggish but he was glad to see any reaction at this point. "Okay, Chris, we're going to give you something to ease the pain," he explained and saw the relief in the green eye. "Burke give him two milligrams of morphine." Mikla ordered as he picked up a medicinal sponge and gently swiped it over the cracked lips of his patient.

Larabee's tongue flicked out in an effort to snatch the moisture into his mouth, moaning as the sponge was removed.

"I know you're thirsty, Chris, but you can't have anything yet. We've got a few more things to do before we transport you to Pearl Harbor. So relax and let the morphine help you. Try to go back to sleep," Mikla told him.

"W...want...to see ...Vin, J...Josiah," the blond rasped, becoming agitated as he tried to look around the tiny room.

"Tell you what I'll do. I'll let them in for a minute but then you have to get some rest," Mikla stated. "Deal?"

"D...deal."

"Burke, tell Sanchez and Tanner they can come in for a minute."

Burke nodded and went to open the door. He didn't have the words out of his mouth before two men nearly knocked him to the floor in their effort to see their friend.

"Chris," Mikla said, noticing the man's eye had closed once more.

"Hmm."

"Your friends are here."

Larabee forced his eye open again, shifting from one man to the other. "V...Vin, Jo...siah," his voice came out as a mere whisper.

"Hey, Brother, welcome back."

"You're gonna be fine, Cowboy," Tanner said, keeping the fear from his voice. He knew his friend was in bad shape and he wished there was something more he could do.

"A...am n...now," the corners of Larabee's mouth rose slightly as he smiled at his friends. "Chieu?" he asked, wanting to know what happened to his friend.

Sanchez and Tanner's eyes met, a worried frown on both faces.

Larabee's antenna rose immediately at the silent signal between the two men. "V...Vin, Where's Chieu?" he gasped as he fought his way up on the bed.

"Oh, no you don't," Mikla warned as he moved the two newcomers out of the way.

"No, V...Vin. Need to k...know. J...Josiah, please, Chieu, w...what h...happened to him."

"You two out now," Mikla ordered as he tried to keep the blond from coming off the bed, Franklin moved to the opposite side and helped hold the patient down.

"No...oh, God, h...he's dead... I k...killed him t...too," Larabee continued to fight in spite of the pain and his injuries. The struggle didn't last long as the morphine kicked in and the blond surrendered to the calling darkness.

Mikla breathed a sigh of relief as the injured man relaxed against the pillow. "Alright, people, let's get everything done and get him ready for transport."

The next three hours were spent getting the blond as stable as possible with the severity of his injuries. Mikla and his team finished setting the right ankle and knee, immobilizing the left ankle and the compound fracture of the left elbow. The dressings covering the burns and infected lacerations were changed again as they finished readying the patient. Mikla sent copies of the X-rays and test results to the naval hospital in Pearl Harbor. A trauma team would be waiting as soon as the Seahawk touched down with its two patients. He knew James Curran would also be sent to the naval hospital as surgery uncovered more damage to his leg than first thought.

Mikla finished listening to his patient's chest, pleased that air was moving in and out of both sides. The morphine seemed to be keeping the blond unconscious and he hoped he'd stay that way during the trip to Pearl Harbor. He didn't want to chance giving Larabee more pain medication until he'd been put through a complete CT scan. They needed to make sure there were no skull fractures and with the severity of the bruising on the pale face it was entirely possible that there were underlying problems. "How's his temperature and blood pressure?"

Burke looked up from the monitor as he finished recording the new information. "Temperature is Ninety seven, BP is eighty eight over seventy, and Oxygen saturation is ninety five."

"That's about as stable as he's going to get. Rig up the portable equipment and let Gerry's team know we're ready to transport. Have Tanner and Sanchez notified so they'll be ready to move out."

"Tanner and Sanchez are right outside the door. They haven't moved," Franklin told him.

Shaking his head at the thought of the stubborn men he mumbled, "Figures." He glanced down at the patient again, not surprised to see the single green eye staring at him. "Talk about stubborn men. You're supposed to be sleeping," he warned.

Larabee tried to speak but couldn't form his thoughts into words. He'd been lost in terrifying nightmares and didn't want to go back. The memories of the vivid dreams were fleeting now and he let them slip away, not wanting to face the consequences of his own actions. "Bad dreams," he rasped, studying the strange face above him.

"Who wouldn't have bad dreams after what you've been through?" Mikla offered. "How do you feel?"

"Like s...shit," Larabee answered, trying for, but failing to find his cocky grin.

"I bet," Mikla laughed. "We're just getting you ready to transport to Pearl Harbor so just relax and try to rest."

"C...can't rest..." Larabee groaned as his body sent pain signals to his exhausted brain.

The doctor watched the face anxiously and knew without a doubt the man needed something to help ease the pain he was in. He reached for a syringe and a vial in the cabinet next to the patient's bed, drawing two milligrams of morphine and injecting it into Larabee's IV. "That should help," he explained, gently patting the uninjured right arm. "Now try to go back to sleep."

"T...thanks," Larabee told him as he felt the pain ease slightly.

"You're welcome, Son," Mikla smiled as he watched the battered features relax into sleep once more. 

---

Vin Tanner sat in his assigned seat on the Seahawk, his eyes never wavering from his injured friend. The portable equipment surrounding the secured stretcher made him shiver. Mikla explained what everything was for before they left and the sharpshooter listened intently. He knew the corpsmen seated between Larabee and Curran knew what he was doing, but he wished Stacey Midland and Nathan Jackson were here.

"You alright, Brother?"

The sharpshooter tore his eyes from Larabee's still form, letting them come to rest on the ex-preacher. "Not me you gotta worry about, Josiah," he assured the older man as his eyes flicked to the stretcher holding the second injured man. "He's so much like Chris," he whispered, his throat constricting as he realized they still might lose their leader and friend. Mikla's words resounded in his agonized mind, giving him little comfort and a lot of worry. He's not out of the woods, gentlemen. The blows to the head are so severe there could be skull fractures and he may have brain damage. There's no way to know for sure until they do a CT scan at Pearl.

Skull fractures? Brain damage? Dammit, Cowboy, you better not be thinking about giving up. We've got too much to do, Tanner thought, his eyes once more settling on the immobilized figure.

"He's a fighter, Vin."

"I know, Josiah, it's just hard to see him like this. If we'd only gone when we first found out he was missing instead of waiting for the bureaucrats to give permission."

"You can't second guess things, Vin. From what I saw a lot of the injuries were inflicted long ago."

Curran listened to the conversation between the two men. He knew what they were going through. He'd seen his own friends in similar situations and suffered much the same way. There was nothing harder than sitting around, waiting for word on someone you cared about. His mind travelled back to the injuries he received in Beirut, two bullets, one a simple easy extraction, the second much more serious and caused him to be laid up for two weeks. He turned his head and was able to see the man in the second bay. Been there, Larabee, and if your friends are anything like Hawkins, Leary, and Ramos, you'll have all the support you need.

He turned away and his eyes met with two intense blue ones. So much like, Dale, he thought. Wonder if Larabee calls you Hot Shot?

"How're you feeling, Lieutenant?" Burke asked.

Curran turned his head towards the corpsmen, a thin smile on his face. "Fine," he answered.

"Any pain?"

"No."

Burke shook his head and smiled, "You wouldn't tell me you were no matter how bad it got, would you?"

Curran's pale face split in a cocky grin so similar to Chris Larabee that it caught Sanchez and Tanner unawares. "Shit, Josiah, did you see that?"

"I most certainly did, Brother."

"What's wrong?" Curran asked.

"Chris does that exact same thing. Bet if we looked back far enough we'd find you two were related. There's no way two men who look so much alike can't have common lineage somewhere," Sanchez explained.

"We'll be landing in ten minutes," the pilots voice came from the front of the Seahawk.

Burke turned to Larabee and checked to make sure everything was still secure. He made a few quick notations on the chart before sitting back in his seat.

"How is he?" Tanner asked.

"Stable. His temperature is still a little low, but he's doing well."

Tanner nodded his head and looked back towards the patient. He thought of the others and what they were doing right now. Word was sent of the rescue but no details were given. He knew the first thing he needed to do when they landed was call The Firm's office and tell the others what was happening. Wish I could give them better news, Cowboy, he thought.

---

Strange voices penetrated the void he'd been relaxing in. The void was a safe place; a place that was relatively pain free and he didn't want to leave it. He knew what would be waiting for him the minute he left the void so he fought against the call of the strange voices.

"Chris, I need you to open your eyes."

Larabee felt hands touching his body. Poking him, prodding him, hurting him all over again. "No, not a...again," he cried out as someone touched his elbow.

"It's alright, Chris, you're safe. I'm Dr. Bradley and I just need to take a look at your elbow," he explained, hearing a soft hiss of pain from the injured man. Bradley gently opened his right eye and checked the pupil. "We're going to send you for a CT scan and then we'll be taking you to surgery, Chris. Think you can put up with my poking you for a little longer?"

"G...guess so. D...don't seem to h...have m...much choice," Larabee coughed dryly. "T...thirsty," he whispered.

Bradley took a pink sponge, removed the protective wrapper, dipped it in water and moistened the cracked lips and the inside of his patient's mouth.

"Thanks," the blond groaned, lifting his right arm to rub his aching head.

Bradley caught his hand and gently forced it back to the bed. "I want you to keep still, Chris."

"Head hurts."

"I don't doubt that for a minute but I don't want you moving around. We're taking you down for that CT scan right now and once we see the results we'll know better how to help you. Alright?"

"Y...yeah," came the raspy reply. 

---

Sanchez watched as the younger member dialled the number for the office at The Firm. It would be late afternoon in Billings and they knew the others would be there. The phone was picked up on the second ring, Wilmington's voice cutting through the quiet. "Hello."

"Buck, it's Vin." Tanner could almost hear the man as he sat up and took notice.

"Vin, is Chris alright. God we've been so worried. Captain Dunne's office called to say they'd found Chris but that's all he could tell us."

"Slow down, Buck," Tanner ordered.

"Hold on, Vin, I'm putting you on speaker phone so the others can hear you."

"Alright, Buck."

"Go ahead, Vin," Wilmington told him.

"First off we did get Chris out."

"How is he?" Jackson's worried question made the sharpshooter's throat constrict.

"He's in bad shape, Nate."

"Fuck!" Wilmington's angry voice swore.

"What happened to him?" Dunne's question overlapped Bucks expletive.

"Nguyen had him set up. From what we've been able to find out he used Chieu to get Chris back to 'Nam. They were waiting for Chris and Chieu when they arrived at the scheduled meeting place. Nguyen kidnapped Chris and took him to his compound."

"Chris should never have gone," Wilmington hissed.

"Mr. Larabee didn't have much choice. He was called back to active duty," Standish's voice was also edged with worry.

"Where are you, Vin?" Jackson asked.

"We're at the naval hospital in Pearl Harbor."

"Are you and Josiah alright?"

"We're fine, Nathan."

"You gonna tell us what's wrong with Chris, Vin?" Wilmington asked, the silence on the other end of the line was enough to grate on the ladies' man's nerves. "Vin?"

"Alright, Buck, I'll tell you what we know. They're just taking him for a CT scan of his head. Nguyen worked him over pretty good and his face is badly bruised. He can't open his left eye at all and there are a lot of lumps and cuts as well. Both ankles and his right knee were broken, his left elbow has a compound fracture and will need surgery to repair it," he drew a deep breath as he tried to continue cataloguing his friend's injuries.

"Let me, Vin," Sanchez said as he took the phone from the trembling man. Tanner nodded gratefully and sank into a chair, closing his eyes and fighting the nausea he felt building in his stomach.

"Vin?"

"No, Buck, it's me."

"Josiah, is Vin alright?" Jackson asked, concerned about the fear he'd heard in the other man's voice.

"He's fine, Nathan, nothing that a little good news wouldn't cure right about now."

"We could all do with some good news. What else is wrong with Mr. Larabee?" Standish voiced the question on all their minds.

"Isn't that enough?" JD asked worriedly.

"More than enough, JD, but there's more isn't there, Josiah?" Wilmington asked.

"I'm afraid so. He's got a total of five broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung so they've inserted a chest tube. He was severely whipped; some of the marks are infected. He's got burns from a stun gun and from something else. The doctors figure it was a hot poker or something like that. His kidney's were bruised, he was hypothermic when we brought him in and his blood pressure was low," he stopped to catch his breath.

"What else?" Jackson asked, knowing the ex-preacher wasn't done.

"H...he was really dehydrated, Nate. The bastard didn't give him anything to eat or drink for who knows how long. He's lost a lot of weight and we both know Dr. Midland's been harping on him to gain some."

"Tell me that son of a bitch is dead!" Wilmington swore.

"Curran killed Nguyen."

"Who's Curran?" Dunne asked.

"That's classified, Son, but suffice it to say Nguyen won't be bothering Chris anymore."

"Josiah, we'll be there as soon as we can arrange to have the jet fueled and ready for take off," Jackson explained.

"Alright, Nate, Dr. Bradley is just coming out of Chris's room and I want to hear what he has to say. We'll see you when you get here."

"Take care, Josiah," Jackson said as the line went dead. 

---

Tanner was on his feet as a stretcher carrying his friend was pulled from the room. He knew Josiah was right behind him as both men hurried after the retreating form.

"Gentlemen, wait," Bradley ordered as he stepped in front of the two men, causing them both to pull up short. "They're taking him for a CT scan and you won't be able to go in with him so please be seated."

"Is he going to be alright?" Tanner asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

Bradley looked from the older man to the younger one before answering. "You both know the extent of his injuries," both men nodded. "Then you know he's in critical condition and we don't even know if there's any damage to his head besides the obvious ones. We'll wait for the results of the CT scan and if nothing shows up we'll take him to surgery and Orthopaedics will repair the compound fracture of his left elbow and probably put pins in his left ankle. I'm going to be honest with you guys. He's in bad shape and he may not make it. We're going to do everything we can for him but you should be prepared."

"He'll make it, Doc," Sanchez said sharply. "He's strong and we'll be here to help him."

"That's good because once he starts to recover he's going to need all the help he can get. The physiotherapy alone will be murder on him. The wounds to his back and chest are painful enough but the broken bones are also going to cause him misery."

"Anything that needs to be done we'll do," Tanner swore.

"Look, right now there's nothing you can do for your friend. He's going to need you more when surgery is over so why don't you two go get something to eat and grab some sleep," Bradley knew his words were falling on deaf ears but he had to try. The two men standing beside him looked ready to keel over but they wouldn't give in to it.

"I'm not going anywhere," Tanner told him.

Bradley shook his head. "That's what I thought. All right, he'll be in CT for about forty minutes. That gives you time to get something to eat. I don't care if you eat it in the cafe or bring it here... just make sure you get something."

"We will, Doc," Sanchez assured him as the doctor turned away. "Come on, Vin, let's get a sandwich or something."

"I can't leave him, Josiah."

"Vin, you need to keep up your strength."

"I'm staying."

Sanchez rolled his eyes as he looked at the younger man. "Alright, Vin, stay here. I'll bring something back for both of us."

Tanner's blue eyes were filled with sadness as he sat in the chair across from Chris's room. "Thanks," he mumbled as his eyelids slid shut. 

---

Sanchez watched as Bradley strode towards them. He knew, instinctively something was wrong and he reached over to touch the sleeping form in the next chair.

Tanner came awake with a start and glanced around, rubbing at the stubble on his chin as he tried to ease his aching body. He stood up as Bradley hurried towards them. "What's wrong?" he asked, knowing things were not good by the look on the man's face.

"We've got the results of the CT scan back," Bradley told them.

"And?" Sanchez asked.

"It showed a small subdural Hematoma in the left temporal region."

"What the hell does that mean?" Tanner asked.

"It means there was damage done to this region by at least one of the blows Chris received."

Tanner's hands clenched into fists as he looked at the doctor. "What are you going to do about it?"

"He's on his way to surgery right now. Phillip Jordan will perform the surgery. He's one of the best neurosurgeons in the field. I'm sorry, gentlemen, I know this wasn't the news you wanted to hear."

"You got that right, Doc," Sanchez muttered. "What about the surgery to his arm and ankle? Will they fix those up as well?"

"It depends on how things go. Dr. Jordan will have final say in the matter but Orthopaedics will be present and if he okays it they'll perform the surgery as soon as Jordan's finished. Look, Gentlemen, it's going to be a long night so you might as well try to get some rest."

"Where's the ICU?" Tanner asked, knowing that's where Chris would be taken after surgery.

"It's on the third floor. Ask at the desk where the waiting room is," Bradley told him.

"It's okay, Doc, we'll get some rest while we're waiting for word on Chris," Sanchez assured the man. 

---

"Gentlemen, are you here for Chris Larabee?"

Tanner came to his feet, his eyes wide, his body tense as he stared at the dark haired man before them. "Yes," he answered. "Is he alright?" he asked as he looked at the clock and saw six hours had passed since they'd taken Chris to surgery.

"Sit down."

"What? Why?" Tanner asked, his legs shaking, his heart pounding as he looked at the newcomer.

"Because you both look like you're ready to fall down," Jordan answered and smiled as the two men dropped heavily onto their chairs.

"How is he, Doc?" Sanchez asked.

"We successfully removed the Hematoma and Orthopaedics was able to fix the elbow and the ankle. He's listed in critical condition at the moment and we've left him intubated."

"So he's going to be alright?" Tanner asked hopefully.

Jordan looked at the two exhausted men before speaking calmly and professionally, "What you gentlemen need to realize is that even with the intervention of surgery he may not make it. I'm hopeful that he will but with the injuries he's received, the blood loss, and the fact that he was dehydrated it's a miracle he's come this far. There's nothing else we can do except wait and hope."

"What about brain damage?" Tanner asked, remembering Dr. Mikla's warning.

"Worst case scenario is that he could die. We won't know if there's any brain damage until he's awake and able to talk. If he does make it there could be speech problems. His short-term memory could be affected. There are any number of problems to deal with when a head injury is involved. I'm sorry I wish I could give you better news but I thought you'd rather hear the truth."

Tanner stood up and swayed momentarily before hurrying from the tiny room.

"You'd better make sure he gets some rest," Bradley told the ex-preacher. "Actually both of you look like you could use some sleep."

Sanchez met the eyes of the doctor, his own eyes filled with the pain the man's words had inflicted. "Can we see him?"

"How did I know you were going to ask that? Give the nurses time to settle him in. I'll have someone let you know when you can see him."

"Thanks, Doc," Sanchez whispered gratefully.

"You're welcome," Jordan stood and left the room.

The ex-preacher stood and went in search of the sharpshooter. He found the younger man staring into a glass-enclosed room. "Vin?"

Tanner shivered as he took his eyes off the scene in the room. "He's been hurt so much, Josiah."

"I know, Brother," Sanchez agreed as he too turned his attention to the room where nurses were adjusting equipment, changing IV's and hanging more blood. Both men went quiet as they listened to the nurses tending their injured friend.

"Cindy, did you give the Dilantin yet?"

"Just administering the one gram loading dose, Barb. I've noted on his chart that Dr. Jordan has ordered three hundred milligrams given three times a day. I also noted he was lethargic when we tried to rouse him," Cindy said as she injected the drug that was used to prevent convulsions.

"Thanks, Cindy, I think we're finished for now. I'm going to tell his friends they can come in," Barb said as she moved to the door. "You can come in now," she told the two tired looking men.

"Thanks," they responded in voices barely above a whisper.

The soft whoosh of the ventilator, the continuous beep of the heart monitor, the tubes and IV lines reminded both men how fragile human life really was.

Vin leaned heavily against the side rail as his legs threatened to give out on him. The lack of sleep coupled with the worry he felt for his friend finally caught up to him. He would have fallen if not for the strong supporting hands of the older man.

"Easy, Brother," Sanchez whispered.

"Thanks, Josiah," Tanner muttered as he turned back to the bed. His eyes taking in every mark on the battered face, noting also the lack of hair left on the left side of Larabee's head. "Don't worry, Cowboy, it'll grow back," his low voice reached the others in the room and brought a trembling smile to the ex-preacher's face.

"How's he doing, Cindy?" Sanchez asked.

"He's holding his own, Mr..."

"Sanchez, Josiah Sanchez and this is Vin Tanner."

"Cindy, I'm going to try and rouse him a bit."

"Alright, Barb. Would you two mind moving away from the bed for a few minutes?"

"Vin, come on," Sanchez said as he took the younger man's arm.

Barb Collins placed her fisted hand on Larabee's sternum, carefully avoiding the gauze bandages covering the wounds. She gently rubbed her fist back and forth while she talked in soothing tones. 

"Chris, it's time to wake up. Come on open your eyes. I've read on your chart that you have green eyes and that's my favourite color," she continued talking to him as his eyelid fluttered open. She waited until he turned to the sound of her voice, smiling down at him, talking softly in an effort to calm the panic she saw rising there. "You're in the intensive care unit at the naval hospital in Pearl Harbor. My name is Barb and I'm the nurse taking care of you. You have a tube in your mouth and that's why you can't talk. You're on a ventilator and it's going to help you with your breathing so you can rest and get stronger. I have to do a quick check on you and then I'm going to let your friends see you, " Barb explained, relieved to see some of the panic leave the battered features. 

When he once more focused on her she again talked softly. "I want you to squeeze my fingers for me," she smiled as a few seconds later he did as she asked. "Okay, Chris, that's very good. Can you release them for me now? Very good," she said as she continued the standard neuro check, noting each reaction. She watched as his eye slid shut again.

"What was that for?" Tanner asked as he stepped back to the bed.

"It's a standard neuro check, Mr. Tanner. We'll be doing that every hour while he's in ICU. His reactions tell us whether or not there's a problem."

"Was there?"

"No, Mr. Sanchez, he reacted perfectly to the simple commands we gave him," Cindy answered. "Now, Barb and I have to suction out the ventilator and it's rather unpleasant to see so I'd advise you two to leave now."

"No, Ma'am, I'll stay."

"No, you won't. If you don't get some sleep you'll end up flat on the floor here and I certainly don't want to have to pick either of you up. Get some rest and don't come back for a couple of hours."

"But..."

"No buts. Go now or I'll have security bar you for twenty four hours."

"Vin, we'd better do as she says," the older man advised.

The sharpshooter nodded as he placed a trembling hand on Larabee's right arm, careful not to touch the two IV's and the A lines running into his wrist. "I'll be back, Cowboy, you just make sure you're here when I do," he ordered as he moved away from the bed.

"I'll look after him, Chris," Sanchez assured the blond as he noticed the green eye looking at him. He waited till it closed again before catching up with the younger man.

"You've got good friends there, Chris," Cindy said as the two nurses suctioned the tube running into the patient's mouth. 

---

James Curran wanted out. He hated hospitals, hated being pinned down and most of all he hated needles. The IV in his arm was feeding him fluids and antibiotics to fight the infection in his thigh. A cane stood beside his bed and he slid the rails down and stood up. He smiled as he carefully tested the leg and found the pain wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. He'd made up his mind to go up to the
next floor and see how Chris Larabee was doing. He knew from his own experiences how long a recovery period Larabee had ahead of him. Using the cane to support one side and the IV pole on the other he slowly made his way out of his room, avoiding the pretty red haired nurse who'd been looking after him since he was placed in this room. He made his way to the elevators, pushed the button and hurried inside just as his nurse came out of another room. That was a close one, he thought as he pushed the button for the third floor.

---

Six travel weary, worried people advanced on the unsuspecting nurses desk on the ICU floor. The five men and one blond woman who stood before them did not intimidate the nurses on duty.

"Can I help you?" a short rotund woman asked.

"We're looking for Chris Larabee," Wilmington told her.

"And you are?"

"Friends," Wilmington answered, too tired to realize he was being obnoxious and sarcastic.

"Buck, stop being like that. I'm Mary Travis; you'll have to excuse Mr. Wilmington. He's worried about his friend."

"We're all interested in the status of Mr. Larabee," Standish said and proceeded to introduce the rest of the group in order for the nurse to record their names.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Beth," Wilmington apologized as he read the name on her tag.

"Accepted and I do understand. Mr. Wilmington..."

"Chris!" the cry from JD caught the others unaware and they all turned to see what the boy's excitement was about. A pale but familiar figure stepped from the elevator and looked at the young man in surprise.

"Chris," Mary's tears flowed from her eyes as she hurried to the limping man and gently wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Mary, that's not Chris," Wilmington announced firmly.

"What do you mean it's not Chris?" the blond woman asked as she removed her arms and looked up at the face. "Oh my God, you're not Chris are you?" She backed away the shock causing her to stumble.

Orrin Travis caught his daughter-in-law before she fell, "Easy, Mary," he said as she stared at the attractive SEAL.

"No, Ma'am, I'm not, but if you're going to greet him like that he's a very lucky man."

"Who are you?" Jackson asked.

"James Curran," the handsome blond answered.

Wilmington studied the man before him. "We owe you and your team."

"No, you don't owe us anything."

"Lieutenant," Beth broke in. "That was your floor. Your nurse is looking for you and Captain Dunne is waiting in your room."

"Oh, hell, looks like I've been busted."

"You got that right, Lieutenant."

Curran turned back to the elevator and came face to face with an angry red head. "You were told not to get out of bed till Dr. Goldberg checked your leg. If you've busted anything open I'm going to volunteer to sew it back up with a real nice dull needle," she told him.

"I'd best get back. I'll check on Larabee later," he said as he headed for the elevators.

"That wasn't Chris?"

"'Fraid not, JD," Wilmington answered as he turned back to the nurse. "Can we see Chris Larabee?"

"The doctor is in with him now. Why don't you wait in that room over there," she said pointing to a door across the hall. "I'll come get you as soon as he's ready for visitors."

"Thank you, Beth," Mary said. "Can you at least tell us how he's doing?"

"He's still listed in critical condition, that's all I can tell you for now. Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Tanner are in the waiting room. We haven't been able to get either of them to leave but they both were sleeping the last time I looked in on them. Try not to wake them when you go in."

"I'll make sure they're real quiet," Mary assured her as they walked towards the room. 

---

 "Hello, Chris, I'm Dr. Jordan."

Larabee's eye focused on the doctor and he tried to speak, fighting the tube he felt running down the back of his throat. Panic and fear shone in his eye as he tried to breath on his own.

"Don't fight the ventilator, Chris, it's there to help you. If all goes well we'll take it out this afternoon. For now you need it and I want you to relax and let it do its job," he watched as the face relaxed and his breathing eased. "Very good, now can you squeeze my fingers?"

Chris grasped the fingers in his hands and squeezed, releasing his hold when Jordan told him to.

"Well, Chris, you're doing really well. I'm going to have the nurse give you something for the pain now, so just relax and try to sleep."

Larabee tracked the doctor as he left the room, grateful that he'd ordered more pain medication. His head hurt and his body was a mass of agony. He watched as a pretty brunette nurse injected something into his IV.

She finished what she was doing before speaking softly to him. "My name is Trudy and I'll be your nurse for the day. I've just given you some Morphine and it should kick in pretty fast," she explained as she hooked up the three hundred milligrams of Dilantin. Her eyes were drawn to the door where a handsome dark haired man stood. "It looks like you have company, Chris," she told him as she saw the concern on the face of the newcomer.

Buck stifled a gasp as he stepped into the room, pulling up just short of the bed. He knew how badly his friend had been injured but the devastation of the injuries was still a shock to his mind. Dr. Jordan stopped by the waiting room on his way out, quietly explaining to the newcomers what they'd done during surgery.

"Come on in," Trudy told him.

Wilmington moved to the bed, fighting to hide the fear he felt. He stepped up to the side of the bed and grasped the side rail to keep from falling. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile to his face. "Hey, Stud, didn't I tell you you don't need to get hurt to have the pretty ladies after you. That handsome face of yours is all you need."

Larabee felt something roll down his right cheek and realized he was crying. Buck, always here, he thought as sleep once more beckoned to him.

Wilmington took a tissue from the box of Kleenex on the bedside table and gently dried the tiny line of moisture before dabbing at his own eyes as well. "Damn, Stud, I knew you shouldn't have gone back there. You had a hard enough time when you came home from 'Nam the last time," he whispered as he watched the slow rise and fall of his friend's chest. His mind quickly assessing the injuries he could see through the thin sheet that covered the blond's body. "Dammit, Chris, why didn't you stay home?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. No, that's not right! I'm not fine! I'm pissed off! He shouldn't be here like this. Should never have gone on that stupid mission," Wilmington said as his eyes fell on the pretty blonde standing in the door. "Mary," he said as he hurried towards her.

"I have to see him, Buck," she told the ladies' man as he reached out to touch her trembling body. He steadied her as they stood by the bed, wrapping his right arm around her as she reached out to touch Larabee's right cheek. "I hope that monster is dead," she snarled as she fought back her tears.

"He is, Mary."

"He's hurt so bad, Buck."

"Yeah, he is but you know Chris and he'll be glaring at all of us in no time."

"Will he? How can you say that?" she gasped as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. "Look at him. There's not a spot on his body that isn't marked and they had to operate on his head."

"Excuse me, but would you mind keeping it down," Trudy warned. "I know he's sleeping right now but I'd rather not have him upset if he hears you. I understand you're upset and it's hard to see a friend like this but it's important to keep a positive attitude when you're in here."

Mary swiped at her eyes and straightened her shoulders, realizing the nurse was right and that her own anger had no place in this room. "I know and I'm sorry," she sobbed as she leaned over and placed a kiss on Larabee's right cheek. "Don't leave us, Chris," she whispered, so softly the words didn't reach Wilmington's ears. She gazed into the worried eyes of the ladies' man. "I'll come back after, Buck. I'm going to let someone else come in." 

---

Talk, you talk now!

Green eyes blazed with anger, teeth clenched against the pain he knew was coming as he answered. Larabee, Christopher, Lieutenant... the first blow rocked his head, spilling blood from a split lip. The second drove the air from his lungs and he fought to breathe. Something prevented him from getting air and he fought against it as he tried to repeat his answer.

---

"What's wrong with him?" Wilmington asked.

Trudy didn't answer as she tried to wake the struggling man. "Chris, open your eyes for me. Come on, now, you can do it," the patient continued to fight the ventilator and she knew she had to calm him down. She looked up as a tired looking young man entered the room and hurried to the bed.

"Hey, Cowboy, you need to calm down right now. Come on, Chris, let me see that glare," Tanner drawled softly.

Vin, help me, Vin. Something's wrong, can't breath, Larabee thought as he fought his way back from Vietnam.

"Come on, Stud, me and Vin got your back. Nothing's going to happen to you. Come on, open up."

Buck...here too, the blond thought as he slowly opened his right eye, his breathing finally returning to normal as he let the machine take over and tried to speak.

"Chris," Larabee turned towards the silky voice on his right. "You're on a ventilator and won't be able to speak until the doctor takes the tube out," she explained, watching the battered face screw up in a tight grimace of pain.

"Can't you give him something?" Wilmington asked, also taking note of the pained look.

"I will in a minute but first I need to check him," she said as she ran Larabee through the neuro checks once more, noting the results in his chart. "Well done, Chris," she told him as she injected morphine into his IV.

"Trudy, I need to take some blood from Mr. Larabee."

"Would you gentlemen wait outside for a few minutes? I have to suction the tube as soon as Mrs. Watson finishes taking blood."

"Can't we stay, Ma'am?" Tanner asked.

"Not right now. This won't take long and you can come in as soon as we're finished," Trudy explained as the lab tech flushed the A-line and filled up three vials of blood.

---

"Vin, I'm going to let one of the others come see him."

"Okay, Buck," Tanner whispered, never taking his eyes from the scene in the room. He knew the feeling of having the ventilator suctioned and he hated watching it being done to his friend. He watched as the nurse finished what she was doing and gently washed Larabee's face. Damn, Cowboy, should never have waited. Shoulda come after you as soon as you disappeared, he thought angrily.

"Vin, are you alright?"

Tanner turned to the dark skinned medic. "I'm fine, Nathan, just worried. How's Mary?" he asked.

"She's upset and angry just like the rest of us."

Tanner watched an older man in uniform striding towards them.

"Mr. Tanner. Mr. Jackson."

"Captain," Tanner said, knowing the man introduced himself to the others earlier in the day.

"How is Chris doing?"

"He's been awake and responds to the nurses but he's hurt badly," the sharpshooter explained to the sympathetic man. "How is Lieutenant Curran?"

"He's fine and should be released tomorrow."

"We owe him and his team a lot," Tanner said as he moved towards the room that housed his best friend.

Dunne stood before the medic, his eyes tracking the young man as he strode up to the bed. "He's a good friend."

Jackson studied the older man's face, seeing the underlying kindness and worry. "Chris and Vin are as close as brothers. They've been there for each other since the day they met. They just didn't realize it at the time," he explained.

"From what I've seen and heard Chris has more than one close friend. I'm glad he has all of you. Lord knows he deserves a break."

"Yes he does. Captain, if you want to see him I'll wait here."

"Thank you, Nathan, I'd just like to say hello before I leave for Norfolk," Dunne said. He walked into the room and up to the bed. He peeked into the room earlier in the morning, before anyone else arrived so the injuries didn't come as a surprise to him. What did surprise him was the single green eye staring at him from amidst the horrible bruises. "Hello, Chris, I'm not going to stay long because you've got friends waiting to visit you. I just wanted to stop by and tell you not to worry about anything, Son. You're going to be fine and you'll be out of here in no time. Take care and have your friends contact me if there's anything you need." Dunne patted the right shoulder before turning away from the bed.

"You got a lot of friends, Cowboy," Tanner smiled as he watched Larabee's eye shift towards the door.

Nathan, he smiled inwardly at the sight of the medic. Of all his friends this man had the toughest job, but he always managed to do it no matter what. If one of the other six was injured Nathan Jackson was there to help, either with his medical training or by explaining to the others what was going on with the injured member.

"Hi, Chris," Jackson smiled at the blond as he saw recognition in his green eye. "You gave us one hell of a scare."

Sorry, Larabee thought as he felt the tug of sleep again, his eyes closing and snapping open a few seconds later.

"Don't fight it, Cowboy, go to sleep. We'll be here when you wake up," Tanner assured his friend, grateful when the eye closed and remained sealed.

"Nathan, I'm going to let one of the others come in. You'll stay with him, right?"

"Course I will, Vin," Jackson patted the younger man's shoulder as he turned to leave. "He's fighting, Vin."

Tanner nodded, "I know he is, Nate. I just wish to hell I could do more to help him."

"We all do, Vin, but being here for him is important," Jackson assured him as the sharpshooter left the room

---

When Larabee's eye opened later in the day there were two new people standing by his bed. At first he didn't recognize them and panic began to build until a smile grew on both faces.

"Hi, Chris."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Larabee."

JD, Ezra, the blond thought as his sluggish mind made the connection between the faces and the names.

"We can't stay long, Mr. Larabee the nurse gave us the wonderful news that they'll be removing you from the ventilator as soon as the doctor arrives."

Larabee tried to smile around the tube in his mouth, grimacing as the movement pulled on the colorful swelling.

"Are you okay, Chris?" Dunne asked worriedly.

Chris didn't want to worry the youngest member of the team and kept the real pain from showing. He nodded slowly and knew immediately Standish saw right through the lie.

Trudy smiled at the two visitors as she hooked up the next dose of Dilantin. She'd been watching her patient closely, making sure he recognized the people entering his room, searching for any sign of confusion. She'd seen Larabee's reaction upon first waking and waited to make sure he overcame the barrier between confusion and conscious thought.

"I'm afraid you'll have to come back later. Dr. Jordan is coming this way," Trudy explained as she watched the doctor and a second nurse walking towards the room.

"Chris, we'll be back," Dunne offered.

"Yes, Mr. Larabee indeed we will and this time you'll be without that contraption," Standish pointed to the tube just as the doctor came into the room.

Thanks, boys, the blond thought as his men were replaced by the now familiar doctor.

"Hello, Chris, you ready to get rid of this thing?" Jordan asked with a grin. Smiling as the lone green orb showed just how happy those words made him. Jordan checked the chart once more before turning back to his patient. "Alright. Things look good so lets get the tube out and make you a little more comfortable. Just relax and let us do all the work. When I tell you to I want you to breath out and this thing will be history." Jordan watched Larabee's eye as Trudy peeled the tape from around the bruised mouth. Once the tape was removed he gently took hold of the tube and told the injured man to breath out as he extracted the tubing. "All done," Jordan said as he picked up the chart and added a few more notations.

Chris gagged and coughed as the tube was pulled from his throat. He felt someone sponging his lips and the arid interior of his mouth. He tried to control the coughing and gripped his side as pain emanated from the area of the chest tube.

"Easy, Chris, just lie back and take slow breaths," Jordan warned as Trudy placed an oxygen mask over his face.

Larabee did as he was told and finally the coughing subsided. His throat hurt and he struggled to speak. "T...thirsty," the mumbled word was completely understandable to the ICU nurse and she lifted the mask from his face, placing a spoonful of ice chips into his mouth. Chris smiled at the almost forgotten pleasure of moisture sliding down his throat. He couldn't remember the last time anything felt so good. "M...more," he pleaded.

"Trudy will give you more in a couple of minutes, Chris. Right now I want to check a couple of things and then I want you to get some rest."

"N...not t...tired," the blond rasped, his throat hurting as he forced the words out.

Jordan smiled as he watched his patient yawn. "Hmm, it sure sounds like you're tired."

"A l...little."

Jordan ran through the neurological tests once again, noting on the chart that Larabee's reactions were within normal parameters. "Alright, Chris, we're done for today. How's the pain?"

"O...okay," Larabee lied.

"Is that the truth?" he saw the grimace of pain on the battered face and turned to the nurse. "When's his next shot due?"

"He had two milligrams of morphine a little over an hour ago."

"Chris, you let the nurse know when you need something for pain. Don't try to ride it out on your own because you'll just be in misery and that's not necessary. I've ordered pain meds for you and you might as well take advantage of them when you need to. We'll probably be setting up a morphine infusion pump in the morning. For now just ask. Alright?"

"Y...yeah," Larabee groaned as he moved slightly on the bed. He tried unsuccessfully to detach himself from the pain. If he moved he found some new part of him that hurt. He lifted his right hand and tried to touch the left side of his head.

Jordan reached for the hand and placed it back on the bed. "Chris, we had to operate to remove a subdural hematoma. I'd rather you didn't go touching the area right now. It's going to be fine but you have to give it time to heal. Alright?"

"Hmm," Larabee mumbled as his eyelid grew heavy once more. Tired, so damned tired, he thought.

"Trudy, let me know right away if there are any problems."

"Yes, Doctor," she answered as she replaced the empty IV bag. 

---

James Curran was ready to leave the hospital. He'd cajoled them into letting him out early and he was catching the next plane back to Norfolk. It was leaving at eight which left him less than an hour to make it to the airport and check in. For now he wanted to check on the man his team helped rescue. He stood before the room, leaned heavily on crutches, and watched Sanchez talking quietly to the man on the bed. He stepped slowly into the room, not wanting to startle anyone.

"Hello, James, come on in," Sanchez greeted the newcomer, still surprised at the likeness of the two men. "Chris is awake and would probably like to meet you. I've been telling him how much you two look alike."

Larabee turned to the door and watched the man striding towards him. The face was so much like his own and the blond remembered the fleeting glimpse he caught when Curran's men rescued him. He smiled around the mask covering his face, "H...hello," his throaty voice cracked as he spoke the one word.

Curran reached his hand out and grasped the right hand of the injured man. "How are you doing?"

"I've b...been b...better," Larabee found he had to answer this face honestly anything else would be too much like lying to himself.

"I bet. I've been where you are, Chris. Take my advice and let them know when you need something to help with the pain."

"I w...will."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Sanchez chimed in.

"J...Josiah, y...you guys k...know me to w...well."

"That we do, Brother, that we do. You getting out of here, James?"

Curran smiled, a cocky grin that exuded confidence. "It took some doing but I'm a free man."

"T...think they'll l...let me go w...with you?"

"Not a chance," Curran answered. "Just don't let them keep you down too long."

"I w...won't," Larabee gasped as he tried to sit forward.

"Chris, do you want something for the pain?"

Larabee glanced from Sanchez, to Curran, back to the new nurse who just came on duty. He wanted so much to say no, especially in front of the blond SEAL but his body refused to stop sending the pain signals to his brain. "Y...yes," he finally gasped.

"I've got to be going, Chris, I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. Get some rest and maybe we'll meet again when you're feeling better."

Larabee nodded, once more grasping hands with the younger man. "T...thanks."

"No need to thank me. Your own men got you out."

"We couldn't have done it without your help, James. We're all grateful for what you and your team did."

"You're welcome. Take care, Chris."

Larabee nodded as the nurse inserted a syringe into his IV. He waited for the medication to take the edge off the pain, knowing from experience that it wouldn't get rid of it all. Every move he made sent shivers of pain through his body. He closed his eye and once more slipped into sleep.

When he returned to the world of consciousness again he looked into a pair of intense blue eyes, "V...Vin, you a...alright" he asked, as he took in the dark circles under his friend's eyes and the red lines covering the whites of his eye.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that Cowboy?" Tanner grinned at his friend.

"I'm f...fine, Vin. J...just feel so d...damned tired."

"With everything you've been through that's to be expected," a woman's voice assured him. "Do you remember me, Chris?"

"N...no," he answered confusedly.

"Well you were pretty out of it yesterday when I was here. My name is Barb and I'll be with you tonight. You just let me know when you need anything," she ordered as she attached the prescribed dose of Dilantin.

"K. V...Vin, w...was Mary h...here. I t...thought I h...heard her."

"Yeah, Cowboy, she's here and she's real worried about you."

"T...tell her s...sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Chris," Tanner told his friend.

"M...made you w...worry," Larabee said as Wilmington joined them in the room.

"Us, worry, Stud? What would we have to worry about?" he asked, smiling at his oldest friend.

"B...Buck, When d...did you g...get here? Did e...everyone else come w...with you?" Larabee whispered through the mask covering his face, his eyelid sliding closed once more.

Tanner stared at the blond, concern written on his face. Chris remembered Mary visiting earlier but couldn't remember Buck and the rest of the guys being here.

"Got here earlier, Stud, don't you remember me and Mary were here? Nathan, JD, Ezra and Orrin are here as well."

"D...don't remem...," Larabee's voice fizzled out as his eyes closed.

"Trudy?" Tanner asked as the nurse turned back to the bed.

"What's going on?" Wilmington asked as he saw the worry on the nurse's face.

"Give me a minute," Barb said as she gently tried to wake the injured man by massaging his sternum and calling his name. Larabee opened his eye but it quickly slid shut again.

"Chris, come on, Cowboy, open your eyes," Tanner ordered as he watched the nurse trying to wake his best friend. The one green, glazed eye opened but didn't seem to focus.

"Chris," Barb called. Receiving no response she checked his pupil, noting the reaction on his chart. "Chris, can you squeeze my fingers for me," again she noted no response. She picked up his right index finger and pressed on the nail bed. Her alarm grew as she noted he flexed from the pain. She depressed the button on the pillow by Larabee's head and waited for the desk to answer. When they did she told them to put in a call to Dr. Jordan right away, relieved that he was the neurosurgeon on call that night. She lowered the bed so Larabee's body lay flat. She pushed a button raising one end of the bed in such a way that the patient still lay flat but his body was at a slight incline, leaving his head slightly higher than his toes.

"What's going on, Barb?" Tanner asked.

"I'm not sure at this point, Vin," she told him as she watched Larabee's eye close once more.

Tanner sank into the chair and placed his head in his hands. "Dammit, what now?" he asked no one in particular.

"He's gonna be alright isn't he?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"We won't know anything until Dr. Jordan gets here." Barb said as she checked Larabee's vitals again.

"Vin, I'm going to let the others know what's happening."

"Okay, Buck, I'm gonna stay here with Chris," Tanner said and continued to rub his aching head.

"He'll be all right, Vin, I know he will," Wilmington's voice didn't sound as sure as he would've liked it to.

Vin reached out and held his friend's right hand, closing his eyes and trying to send his strength to the injured man. I'm here, Cowboy, and I'm not letting you go, he silently vowed. He opened his eyes when he heard the nurse hanging something above Larabee's prone body. "What's that?"

"What's going on, Barb?" Jordan asked as he hurried into the room and began examining Larabee.

"He seemed a bit confused when talking with his friends. He was talking to them when he simply stopped and closed his eyes. I got him to open them again but he didn't respond to commands or pain stimuli. His pupils are four and reactive," Barb explained as she continued to set up the new medication.

"Run the Mannitol twenty percent, three hundred cc's wide open. Call CT and tell them we're sending him down. Tell them he gets priority right now. Mr. Tanner, you're going to have to leave," Jordan ordered, not surprised to see Collins already running the medication through the IV line. He took a small penlight and checked Larabee's eyes again.

"Is he..."

"I don't know anything right now. I'll come see you as soon as I have the results of the scan," Jordan snapped.

"I need to be here for him."

"Not right now. Look, I know you're worried about him, but you have to let us do our jobs and we can't do that if you're in here."

"CT is ready for him, Doctor."

"Stay with me, Cowboy," Tanner whispered as he left the room. Not surprised to find six men and one woman standing just outside the door.

"Vin?"

"I don't know, Mary, they're sending him for another scan," he explained, reaching out to her as her body trembled and tears streamed from her eyes. His eyes never left the activity in the room. He watched as things were unhooked and IV's were secured. The fast pace of the doctor and nurse let them all know this was a serious emergency and that Chris was once more in danger of losing his life.

"Let's go," Jordan hurried as everything was secured. They pulled the bed away from the wall and rushed out the door, passing the worried people without a word.

"Oh, Chris," Mary sobbed as they passed her.

"Mary, Chris is a fighter," Jackson whispered, not sure if he said it for her benefit or his own.

"Why don't we go back to the waiting room," Travis suggested as he watched the worried and exhausted faces of the men.

They walked the few feet to the waiting room. No one spoke, each person thinking how precious life was and how easily it could be taken from you. Time dragged by as they waited for word on the injured man.

Vin Tanner stood and silently left the room. His overworked mind and body needed rest but there was no way he would rest until there was some good news about his friend. He kept a steady pace as he walked back and forth along the hallway, waiting anxiously for the doctor's return.

Vin stopped at a window overlooking the parking lot. The bright lights illuminated the parking lot and he watched as a couple made their way to their car. Dammit, Chris, why the hell couldn't you have refused the mission? he thought and then another thought immediately came into his mind. Because you always do what's right, don't you, Cowboy?

Vin turned away from the window as footsteps sounded hollowly behind him. "You alright, Vin?"

"I'm fine, Buck. What about you?" he knew he was making small talk but he needed to keep his mind working, keep himself alert. God, I'm so tired, he thought.

"As fine as I can be. I wish the hell they'd come back."

"I do to, Buck," Tanner said as the two men walked back towards Chris's empty ICU room.

They leaned against the wall, on opposite sides of the door and lapsed into companionable silence. Both men looked at the elevators as the doors opened and the bed carrying their friend was wheeled towards them. They caught a glimpse of the too-still form as Jordan and Collins wheeled it past them and once again hooked the equipment up.

The monitors above his head came to life, immediately recording the heart rate, blood pressure, temperature and other vital signs.

Phillip Jordan glanced at the two men standing outside the door. This was the part of his job he hated, having to tell friends and family members that the person they cared about might not make it. "Barb, I'm going to speak with his friends. Start the Salumedrol right away."

"Yes, Doctor," she answered as she changed the empty IV bag.

Jordan stepped through the door.

"How is he?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"Will he be alright?" Wilmington's fear filled voice asked.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to speak with you all at the same time. Where are the others?"

"In the waiting room," Wilmington answered and followed the doctor towards the room. "Vin, are you coming?" he asked as he noticed the younger man hadn't moved from the door.

Tanner didn't want to leave. He wanted to step into the room and sit with his friend, but he needed to hear what the doctor was going to say. I'll be back, Cowboy, he thought as he followed Buck into the room.

Phillip Jordan waited for everyone to be seated, noting the anguish on the faces of everyone present. He wished he could give them better news but things did not look good for his patient. "Mr. Tanner, you have power of attorney for Mr. Larabee?"

"I do," the whispered words were filled with pain and despair.

"I will need to speak with you when I'm through here."

"Alright," the sharpshooter agreed, his tumultuous stomach the only sign of the fear he felt at those words.

"I'm sure you all realize how dangerous a head injury can be, especially with a patient in Chris's condition. We performed surgery on the Subdural Hematoma and hoped that would be all that was required. Unfortunately in Chris's case there's been swelling and that's what's causing this new problem. There's no sign of new bleeding so we've caught a break there."

"But the swelling will go down, right, and he'll be okay?" Dunne asked.

"When there's swelling around the brain there's no way to tell until it goes down. Right now Chris is not responding to anything," he said, watching the man across from him. He knew if any of these men could understand what he was saying it was Nathan Jackson.

"Are you saying Chris could die?" Wilmington asked, his face no longer able to hide his anger and worry.

"It is a possibility, Mr. Wilmington, and it's something you should all be prepared for. We're doing all we can to ensure that doesn't happen including starting him on a steroid called Salumedrol which will help reduce the swelling and another drug called Mannitol which will help his body get rid of excess fluids. Hopefully the swelling will go down and things will improve. I just wanted to prepare you for all contingencies. This latest development could be lethal. Excessive pressure on the brain could cause brain death. We're doing all we can but it's in God's hands now."

"No way, Doc," Wilmington shouted, slamming his hand onto the table beside him.

"Mr. Larabee is a fighter, Doctor Jordan. He won't give up easily and neither will we," Standish swore.

"I'm not saying it will happen I just want you all to be prepared. That's the worst-case scenario. There could be other problems as well."

"What other problems?" Mary asked, tears still shining in her eyes.

"Even if he does pull through there could be brain damage, paralysis, speech problems. The brain is very complex and so many things can affect it. I know this is hard to face but it's something you needed to know. Mr. Tanner, can I speak with you privately?"

"Anything you have to say can be said here, Doc," the sharpshooter told him.

Jordan looked at those present and knew he was in the midst of a close-knit group. "If that's what you want, Mr. Tanner."

"It is."

"If there comes a time when Chris is declared brain dead you need to decide whether or not to donate his organs. You'll have to decide if it's something he'd want to do."

"That's not gonna happen, Doc, Chris is not gonna die!" The ladies' man's anger was becoming more apparent.

"I hope you're right, Mr. Wilmington, but I need to keep you informed of all possibilities. I'll leave you to talk this over."

"Doc, I want to see Chris."

"Alright, Mr. Tanner. Just make sure you stay out of the nurses way and that there's only two of you in with him at a time."

"We will, Doc," the sharpshooter assured him.

"I'll check back with you if there's any change," Jordan assured them as he left the group to talk amongst themselves.

Mary Travis looked around the group of loyal friends. Over the past year she'd grown to know each of them individually. She'd grown to respect each man but she'd finally admitted to having feelings for Chris Larabee. It was something she hadn't felt since Steven died and now her heart felt as if it was breaking again, only this time the man she cared for was still alive. She let the tears slide down her cheeks not bothering to even swipe at them as her eye's met the soulful eyes of Vin Tanner.

The silence in the room was deafening as each man looked inside for a glimmer of hope and understanding. No one wanted to speak of the possibility that Chris would not be coming back to them. Vin broke the silence, his soft drawl breaking through the blank stares of everyone present.

"Let's not give up on him yet, Boys. Chris is a lot stronger than we give him credit for. He's not going to give in and we're not going to let him. Let's show him just how much he has to live for. I'm going to go talk to him. Make sure while you're in the room you talk to him. Let him know you're there. I'm not going to let him go without a fight," Tanner hissed as he left the tiny room.

Seven pairs of eyes watched the young man leave the room. Shocked at the amount of words the usually quiet, private man used. Silence once more took over as each person's thoughts went back to the man lying quietly down the hall.

---

Vin stood outside the door, silently trying to compose himself. He knew he shocked the others with his admission that he wouldn't let Chris go without a fight. The truth was he wasn't going to let him go period. He'd fight with all he had to keep his brother with him. He'd lost his family at an early age and was not willing to lose yet another important part of his soul. If it happened he wasn't sure he could live with it. Oh, he'd go on, but he wouldn't be the same man he'd become since first meeting the stubborn blond.

His eyes roamed the room, watching the nurse perform the Neuro checks on his friend, knowing from experience she wasn't getting the reaction she wanted.

A lab tech walked past him and stepped up to the bed. She opened the A-line and quickly drew blood from the patient.

Vin stepped into the room, aware of the sympathetic glance Barb turned in his direction. "Any change?" he asked automatically.

"No," she told him as she hooked up another tiny bag. "It's too soon to notice any changes yet, Mr. Tanner. It could be some time before the swelling goes down enough for us to see anything."

Vin nodded to her as he sat beside the bed, his eyes shifting to the IV bags above his friend's bed. It seemed like fluids were being run through at an extremely fast rate and he turned to the nurse who was bent beside the bed. He knew she was emptying the drain from the foley catheter.

Barb met his eyes once more as she stood up, "We're giving him so much fluids that it's making him go more often," she explained.

"What else are you giving him?" Tanner asked, finding he needed to talk about anything, rather than keep his eyes trained on the still form of his friend. The bruises, bandages, and casts made him think he was looking at an inanimate object rather than his best friend.

Barb emptied the container she held, washed her hands and returned to the room. "He's being given steroids to help reduce the swelling and Mannitol which will increase his urine output. We've started him on Potassium as it's dropped below safe levels."

"How long before we see any changes?"

"It depends, Mr. Tanner. Different patients react in different ways. Sometimes it's less than twenty four hours, sometimes it takes as long as forty eight hours."

"And sometimes they don't show any signs of getting better," Tanner voiced his fears to the nurse who nodded slightly.

"You have to stay positive. Talk to him. Let him know you're here."

Vin smiled weakly as he turned back to the bed and reached out to make physical contact with the blond. "Hey, Cowboy, I think you've scared us enough. I mean I can afford it, but you know Buck. He'll be complaining you've scared years off his life. Years he can't afford and lately I'm inclined to believe him. You know he hasn't even made a pass at one of the pretty nurses on this floor. Then there's Ezra. The man who makes a bet on anything. Hell, he isn't even talking about wagers right now and I don't think I've heard him utter one of his big words since he got here. JD is being JD. He's keeping everything bottled up inside him. I know Josiah's probably praying for a little Divine intervention and if anyone can make God listen it's him. Remember the sermon he laid on us at the Easter Sunday service and he was only a guest speaker. Imagine what he would've been like if he'd continued as a preacher. Then there's Nathan. You know I think it's harder on him than on any of the rest of us. He knows when he comes into the room how bad things are. He understands everything the doctors tell him and I don't envy him that knowledge. I've seen his face when one or more of us end up in here. He's strong Chris and that's what you've got to be. You've got to be strong and fight your way back to us. We all need you," the blue eyes filled with unshed moisture as he tried to instil some of his feelings into his words. Godammit, Chris, I'm not ready to let you go, he thought angrily.

"Vin, can I come in?"

Tanner looked up to see Mary Travis standing in the door, the redness in her eyes a solemn indication that her tears were not finished. Unable to speak past the lump in his throat he merely nodded and watched the pretty blond enter the room.

Mary reached out and touched the pale form seated next to the bed. Her eyes played back and forth between the two men, both so pale, both so quiet, both in so much pain. It was the younger one's pain that she was concerned about right now, there was nothing she could do about the silent pain Chris Larabee was going through. "Vin?" fear filled Mary as she saw the glazed blue eyes staring at her. She knew he was being eaten up from inside, but would never admit just how much he was hurting. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Mary. It's not me we need to worry about."

That's where you're wrong, Vin. You're hurting more than you're letting on, she thought. "Vin, you know he's going to fight to come back to us?"

Tanner's voice had a defeated quality as he answered, "Will he, Mary. Maybe he's had enough. Maybe this is the one time he'll decide it's not worth the effort."

"Vin, you can't think like that. He needs your strength and he needs to know you won't give up on him that easily. You've got to keep a positive attitude, especially while you're in here. Be strong for him, Vin," she whispered, reaching for and grasping his hand in a tight squeeze.

Maybe I just don't have the strength to give anymore, Mary, he thought tiredly. He looked back at the figure on the bed, knowing he needed to find the strength for himself and his best friend. "I will, Mary," he said softly, his voice lacking the confidence it usually had. "I'm going to let one of the others come in for a while. Talk to him, Mary, let him know you're here."

Mary listened to the retreating steps and turned back to the man she'd grown so fond of. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his right cheek, her eyes misting once more as she whispered in his ear. "He needs you, Chris. They all need you. W...we all need you."

---

The hours dragged as each man took their turn sitting with the unconscious man, talking to him, waiting and hoping for any sign that Chris Larabee was ready to return to them. The nurses, Larabee's friends, and IV's were the only things that changed in the quiet ICU room. Nobody wanted to give up, but the longer the blond remained silent the more worried the friends became. Each and every person kept up a constant litany, chatting about nothing and everything as they tried to get through to the injured man.

The constant beep of the heart monitor kept them anchored to the fact that he was still with them even if he wasn't conscious. The waiting was hard on everyone; two men in particular were nearing the end of their ropes as they sat silently waiting for any sign that Chris was recovering.

"Any change?" Tanner asked as he once more stepped into the room where Doctor Jordan was just putting Larabee through the Neuro check again. Almost thirty hours passed since this new trial began and Larabee's friends knew things were looking grim as he continued to show no sign of waking up.

Jordan took the injured man's right hand and depressed the nail bed, surprised as the opposite arm reached across and tried to push his hand away.

"Doc?" Tanner gasped.

"Hold on, Mr. Tanner," Jordan ordered as he finished running through the standard checks. Finally finished he turned to the tired young man standing at the foot of the bed. "What you just witnessed is called localizing and it's a positive sign, but it's only the beginning. We need to run more tests before I know anything concrete."

"How long before he wakes up?" Wilmington asked.

"There's no way of knowing. We just have to wait it out and hope for the best. As I said it's a very positive sign."

"So he's getting better?" Wilmington's voice was hopeful.

"Let's just say the outlook has just changed for the better, Mr. Wilmington."

"Thanks, Doc," Tanner said, the first flicker of hope shining in his eyes.

"Barb, continue the Mannitol at one hundred fifty cc's. The Salumedrol stays at one hundred mg's per day and let me know the minute he wakes up," Jordan ordered.

"I will, Doctor."

"His Potassium levels are still low so continue with that as well," he said, noting each item on the chart. "Gentlemen, I will check on him again before I leave today."

"Okay, Doc," Tanner whispered as he sat next to his friend. "Hey, Cowboy, Looks like things are picking up. You're gonna come outta this real soon and then we're gonna talk about going to strange countries without backup."

"Yeah, Stud, you even think about doing something like that again and you'll have six men and one woman standing in your way."

Tanner looked at the older man, a relieved smile on his face as he spoke, "Buck, I'm gonna go let the others know."

"Alright, Vin, I'll stay here and talk to this hardhead a little longer. Make sure he understands we're not gonna let him do something stupid like this anymore. You listening to ol' Buck, Chris, cause I ain't in the mood to repeat myself?" 

---

Vin leaned against the door and let the tension drain from his body. The tightness he'd felt building across his chest over the past thirty hours or so was easing and he felt a little lightheaded. Reaching for the last remnants of energy he pushed the door open and walked into the room that was home for seven men and one woman.

His trained eyes quickly took in the exhaustion on each face. Mary Travis leaned heavily against her father in law; her eyes closed, telltale trails of mascara ran down her cheeks. The dark bags under Orrin's eyes and the heavy lines on his forehead gave credence to just how worried he was about his employee-friend. Nathan, Josiah, JD, and Ezra all looked at him as he entered.

So used to seeing the look of fear in the younger man's eyes no one spoke at first. "What's going on, Vin?" Jackson was the first to find his voice.

"Dr. Jordan just left. He said Chris was localizing."

Jackson was the only one to react. "That's fantastic," the usually restrained medic cried in excitement.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked as she opened tired eyes and sat up at the sudden sound.

"Nothing's wrong. Actually something's right," Nathan told her, a tired but relieved smile on his face.

"What does localizing mean, Nathan?" Dunne asked.

"Let me see if I can explain this in simple terms. Vin, was Dr. Jordan applying pressure to Chris nail beds at the time?"

"Yeah."

"Did Chris try to push his hand away?"

"Yeah, IV's and all, Chris lifted his arm and tried to reach him."

"That means he was able to feel the pain and knew where it was coming from. That's called localizing and Chris tried to get rid of the pain by pushing at what was causing it."

"So our illustrious leader is battling back?"

"That he is, Ez, that he is," Jackson grinned at each of them. "Now we just have to wait for him to wake up."

"How long before that happens, Nate?" Dunne asked.

"Could be a couple of hours or couple of days. We don't have a set time on something like this, but knowing Chris he'll wake up and ask to go home," Jackson grinned at the men, letting his own relief show on his face.

"Dr. Jordan said it was a positive sign, but like Nathan said it could be a while before Chris wakes up. He's been through hell and now he's got to fight like hell to get back to us," Tanner told them.

"He'll do it," all eyes turned to the blond at her softly spoken certainty. "If it's one thing I've learned about Chris Larabee and the rest of you men it's that you're fighters. There's more fight in each of you than in ten normal men. I've seen you stand by one another through some pretty rough times and even though this is one of the roughest, he's going to make it through. He has too."

"He will, Mary," Sanchez smiled at the teary-eyed woman. 

---

What did Chieu tell you?

Larabee, Christopher, lieutenant, he screamed as the poker was once more touched to his body.

"Hey, Cowboy," Tanner grasped his friend's right shoulder, sending strength through the touch. "It's time to wake up. You've been sleeping long enough."

Vin, help me. I c...can't do t...this a...anymore, Larabee thought as he struggled against the strong pull of the nightmare that seemed to be the only memory he had. He couldn't move and he cried out as he struggled against the perceived bonds. His mind taking him back to Nguyen's compound and the torture the man inflicted on him. He could hear two voices talking to him, one angry and terrifying, the other a soft Texas drawl. One meant to take him back into the hell of Vietnam the other wanting to bring him back to the hell of an injured body. He knew the choice was his and he turned away from the darkness, one green eye opening fully as the other opened partially, only to flutter shut again.

"Come on now, Chris, open your eyes and look at me."

Larabee recognized the soft voice but couldn't understand why it sounded so concerned. He fought to open his eyes once more as he heard someone talking on the opposite side of the bed. His mouth felt dry and he tried to speak, the words coming out in a croaking rasp. He felt someone place something soft and wet on his chapped lips and tried to suck the moisture into his mouth.

"Easy, Chris, just hold on for another couple of minutes till Dr. Jordan gets here."

"W...water," he begged piteously and felt something cold placed near his lips. He sucked gratefully on the ice chips, his mouth opening once more in an effort to receive more. Tears spilled from his eyes as he realized there was no more forthcoming.

"Look at me, Chris."

The blond opened his eyes once more, focusing on the young man who'd quickly become his best friend. "V...Vin, w...what h...happened?"

"You got hurt, Cowboy."

"Is t...that all. Thought m...maybe I was d...dead."

"No way we'd let that happen," Tanner assured him. "Dr. Jordan's here, Chris."

Larabee turned his head slightly, his eyes falling on the figure dressed in white walking into the room and then turned back to his friend. "Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Well hello, Chris. Do you remember me?"

"T...think so. Y...you're the doctor o...operated."

"That's right. How do you feel?"

"Tired," Larabee answered letting his eyes droop shut once more.

"Chris, I need you to stay awake for a couple of minutes then we'll let you go back to sleep. Alright?"

Larabee fought to keep his eyes open as he felt the doctor doing things to his body. He squeezed his hands when he was asked to and released them when Jordan told him.

"You did very well, Chris. Now, how is the pain?"

"S'okay."

"Tell the truth, Cowboy," Tanner ordered seeing the lines of pain on the battered face.

Larabee smiled weakly, knowing he couldn't keep anything from the other man. "Feel lousy," he answered truthfully.

"That's what I thought," Jordan smiled as he looked at the chart. "I'll have Barb give you something for the pain in a few minutes. If all goes well we'll set up the morphine infusion pump first thing in the morning. You just make sure you let the nurses know when you need something extra tonight. Otherwise I've given instructions for two milligrams of morphine every two hours. Okay?"

"'Kay," the injured man answered as he watched the nurse insert the syringe into his IV. He smiled at Vin Tanner as he felt the call of sleep. "S...stay, Vin."

"I'm not going anywhere, Cowboy," Tanner assured his friend. "Doc, he's gonna be alright now isn't he?"

"Mr. Tanner, the fact that he woke up and doesn't seem to have any memory loss is great news."

"But?"

"But he's still listed as critical. Until we can get rid of the infection in the wounds on his back and he's awake more he'll remain on the critical list. Now we'll continue to give him Mannitol for the next forty-eight hours and the Salumedrol will continue to be administered for another week. We're looking at a long recovery period for Chris and he hasn't even been seen by the Psych department yet."

"Psych department?"

"It's standard procedure. Chris was a prisoner in an enemy camp. He's been tortured and lord knows what else they've done to him. He's gonna need to talk to someone and hopefully we can head off PTSD before it starts."

"PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, right?"

"That's correct. He's going to have to deal with what Nguyen did to him. He's also going to have to deal with the death of his friend. That alone will place a great deal of guilt on Chris."

"Chris does hold on to guilt," Tanner observed softly.

I'd say it runs with all of you, Jordan thought as he watched the pain etched on the longhaired man's face. "He's doing better, Mr. Tanner, and we'll do all we can for him."

"I know, Doc, thanks for what you've done so far."

Jordan's eyes roamed from one man to the other sensing the deep friendship the two shared. I have a feeling it will be you and the others who help him through this, he thought as he left the room. 

---

The next time Chris forced his eyes open the room was bathed in light and a blond haired woman sat in the chair next to his bed. Her eyes were closed and he could tell she was sleeping. He watched the nurse as she hovered over him, changing IV's and emptying the Foley. His eyes returned to the woman seated in the chair and he couldn't help but smile.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked him.

"Thirsty," he whispered, not wanting to wake up the sleeping woman.

The nurse placed more ice chips in front of his mouth and he accepted them gratefully.

"M...more," he rasped and was surprised to find the spoon once more placed before his mouth.

"Chris," Mary was startled from a light doze at the sound of Chris asking for more.

Larabee's green eyes turned to her and the tiny smile returned to his face. "Mary, I c...can't tell you how g...good it is to see y...you."

"Not as grateful as I am to see you. You gave us all quite a scare."

Larabee's eyes filled with sorrow as he continued to meet hers. "S...sorry, d...didn't mean too."

"I know you didn't, Chris. I didn't mean it like it sounded."

"I...I know," he said as tears came to his eyes. "Didn't mean for a...any of t...this to h...happen. Didn't mean to get Chieu's son k...killed," he hissed

"Chris, you did no such thing."

"Don't say that, Mary!" Larabee hissed as he tried to sit up on the bed, gasping as pain erupted in his chest and back.

"Chris, you need to calm down," the nurse ordered as she tried to press him back onto the bed, surprised at the strength he still managed to convey.

"Don't you understand? I'm responsible for their deaths. I killed his whole f...family. S...supposed to be his friend. What kind of friend lets an animal murder them? My kind that's what kind," his hoarse voice grew worse as he struggled with the nurse holding him to the bed.

"Chris, you didn't do anything to Chieu. You've got nothing to feel guilty about."

"How c...can y...you say that, Mary," he gasped, struggling to get air into his panicked lungs. "I kill everything I touch. S...Sarah, Adam, now Chieu's family. All because of me."

"You tried to save them, Chris."

"Didn't try very hard, did I?" he snapped, angered that he could move nothing but his right arm. "Godammit, let me go," he swore at the nurse holding him.

Mary looked at the nurse and the struggling man. He needs Vin, she thought suddenly and hurried out of the room in search of the young sharpshooter.

The nurse held him as he fought against her. She heard the heavy rasping and was afraid he'd hurt himself further if she let him go. Running footsteps drew her attention and she looked up to see a young man enter the room, six other men and one woman standing just outside the door.

"Want to tell me what's wrong, Cowboy?" the soft voice asked.

"What's wrong, Vin? Everything's wrong," Larabee gasped as the younger man came forward and reached out to him. "L...leave me a...alone, Vin, before you die too."

"I'm not gonna die, Chris, and I'm not gonna leave you alone. All you're gonna do is hurt yourself some more. This isn't the way to get better."

The fight suddenly drained out of the injured man and he let his friend hold him. Tears spilled from his eyes as he pictured his dead friend and the happy family they'd once been. "I k...killed them, Vin. It's my fault Chieu and his family died."

"No it's not, Chris. You told me yourself that Chieu didn't blame you for his son's death. He told me he felt guilty for bringing you back to 'Nam and that it was his fault Nguyen got his hands on you."

Tanner held him close as shudders wracked the lean body. "W...wasn't his fault. H...he d...didn't know."

"And neither did you, Chris. You didn't know Chieu would come with us to take down Nguyen and you couldn't have known he'd die there. Nguyen was just as much his enemy as he was yours. The bastard is dead now and you need to come to terms with the death of your friend. I only knew him a short time but I think he was a good man."

"W...was a g...good man. A good friend. D...didn't deserve what was d...done to h...him," Larabee mumbled painfully.

"Neither do you, Chris," Tanner soothed the injured man as the nurse injected something into his IV.

Morphine, she mouthed.

Tanner nodded as he felt the body he held relax against him. The soft sobs turned into heavy sighs and he knew the blond was asleep against his shoulder.

"Let me help you lie him back down," the nurse offered.

"I can hold him like this."

She smiled as she watched the tired young man holding his friend. "He'll be more comfortable lying straight on the bed. Thank you, Mr. Tanner for getting him to relax."

"He's my friend, Ma'am, I'd do anything for him," the sharpshooter assured her as they placed Chris's still form flat on the bed. Vin watched the steady rise and fall of the heavily bandaged chest and sank into the chair.

---

What did Chieu tell you?... Larabee, Christopher... he groaned as Nguyen hit him again. You will talk, Lieutenant!... La... I will kill you! Chris struggled against the nightmare he was trapped in as Chieu was marched into the room. No! Larabee gasped as he watched Nguyen pull a long bone handled knife from his belt. Tell me what he told you!... I...I can't... Then he will die! Nguyen lifted the knife and as it began its vicious descent Chris Larabee screamed and fought against the bonds that held him to the chair. 

---

 "NO! Leave him alone you bastard!"

"Chris," Jackson leaned over the bed gently grasping the blond in an effort to hold him still and not cause him any more pain.

"Leave him alone!"

"Dammit, Chris, wake up!" he snapped, not intending for the words to be as harsh as they sounded, but the bone deep tiredness he felt made it hard to control.

The knife continued to descend and Chris fought harder, not realizing the grip he was fighting was a lifeline to the real world that could help assuage the nightmares if he let it. "NO!" he cried once more as the tip of the blade touched the tender skin on Chieu's neck.

"Come on, Chris, its Nathan, open your eyes and look at me."

The words finally penetrated the nightmare and the injured man slowly opened his eyes. "N...Nathan?"

Jackson and the nurse breathed identical sighs of relief before Jackson found his voice. "Yeah, it's me Chris. That must've been some nightmare."

"It was. Keep seeing..." he stopped talking as a bout of coughing took over and he tried to ride out the waves of agony the attack caused him.

"Here, Chris," the nurse said as she held a straw in front of his mouth.

Larabee sipped the cool water gratefully, his mouth absorbing as much of the liquid as it could. All to soon the straw was removed and he thanked her.

"You're welcome, Chris. You can have as much as you want but in small amounts. I'll give you more in a couple of minutes."

He nodded slowly as he finally let his eyes wander around the room. "Where are we?"

"You're in the naval hospital in Pearl Harbor."

"Pearl Harbor? H...how long h...have I been here?" he asked.

"You've been here five days."

"How'd I get here?"

"Josiah and Vin rescued you from Vietnam. You were on the aircraft carrier Enterprise for nearly eight hours till they stabilized you enough to transport you here."

"I d...don't remember any of t...that," Larabee's voice trembled as he realized there was a large chunk of his life missing.

"That's only normal, Chris. You've been through a lot over the past few weeks," Jackson told him.

Green eyes stared up at the medic, "Why is it I can remember everything Nguyen did to me but I can't remember anything about the rescue or what happened till I woke up and saw Mary sitting there?" he asked, indicating the chair next to his bed.

"With severe traumas like you suffered sometimes the short term memory can be affected," Jackson told him. "I wouldn't worry about it right now, Chris. What you need to do is concentrate on getting better."

"H...how bad?"

"Here come Dr. Jordan and Dr. Bradley. Why don't we let them explain it to you?"

"'Kay," he answered as two men entered the room.

"Well it's good to see you awake, Chris," Jordan commented.

"T...thanks," Larabee whispered.

"How do you feel?" Bradley asked as he took the chart from the nurse. He checked to make sure Larabee was still receiving the required dose of Mannitol and Salumedrol. He noted on the chart that the Mannitol could be discontinued the following day as long as things remained stable. The Salumedrol would be continued for at least another week to help ensure there was no repeat of the swelling that caused the last scare.

"Fine."

"That's his answer for everything," Jackson told the grinning men.

"That figures. We're not going to be able to trust you to tell us the truth about how you're really feeling are we?" Jordan asked.

"N...not really," the blond answered honestly. "How bad?"

"Are you asking how bad your injuries are?" Bradley asked.

"Y...yeah."

"Well, Chris, where do I start?" Jordan asked as he pulled a chair up to the bed. "Would you like me to raise your head a little?"

"P...please," the blond gasped as the bed rose slightly.

"Here, Chris," Larabee gratefully accepted the water from the nurse once more and turned back to the doctors as it was taken away.

"Well, Chris," Jordan started. "I'm sure you know you've got more than a few broken bones."

"Feel like they're all b...broke," Larabee quipped causing Jackson to smile.

"Hmm, I don't doubt that at all. Right now you're looking at both ankles, the right knee, and left arm will be immobilized for at least six weeks depending on how well you take care of them. You've also got some broken ribs and a punctured lung. If all goes well and it continues to heal we can remove the chest tube in two days. The burns on your body are going to take a while to heal, but as long as we keep them clean and infection free they should be alright. Same goes for the marks on your back. We've been giving you Isosource, but I want to get you started on regular foods as soon as possible."

"Jell-O and broth?"

The doctor couldn't help but smile. "Basically yes. At least until we make sure your stomach can handle it."

"Stomach can never handle that stuff."

"Well it'll have to do for now. The faster we can get you back on regular food the faster we can get you gaining weight and you do need to gain weight."

"Dr. Midland's always telling me that," he answered. "What happened to my head?" he asked reaching up to touch the bandage.

"You were beaten pretty badly and suffered a Subdural Hemetoma as a result of one or more of the blows. We had to operate but you're doing fine now and will continue to do so as long as you cooperate," Jordan explained and wondered why Jackson tried to hide a snicker.

"That's easier said than done, Doc," Jackson said with a grin.

"Chris, seriously, if you want to get well you need to do as we tell you. The injuries you suffered are serious and if you do anything stupid you'll be adding to the time you spend here. You'll be needing a lot of Physiotherapy once you're discharged if you want to regain the use of your legs and that arm."

"Guess I won't be going home once you take out the chest tube?"

Jordan and Bradley exchanged glances and couldn't help but smile. "I'm afraid not," Jordan laughed. "You'll probably be moved out of ICU in a day or two as long as things keep improving. How's the pain been?"

"Haven't really been awake enough to know," Larabee answered honestly.

"Well, hopefully now you'll start staying awake for longer intervals. You're hooked up to a morphine infusion pump right now, but if things get to a point where you need a little extra help just tell your nurse. Now if there's nothing else we'll leave you to your friends and let you get some rest."

"Will I remember what happened after they rescued me?"

"I can't say for sure, Chris. You've been through a lot and sometimes the mind just can't deal with anymore. Don't worry about it right now. Just concentrate on getting better," Jordan told him.

Larabee nodded and sipped at the water as the straw was placed in front of him again. The two doctors headed for the door hoping nothing else happened to the battered patient.

"Go to sleep, Chris," Jackson said as Larabee's eyelids drooped.

"Not tired, Na...," the yawn overpowering his words. His breathing slowed and he sighed as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Nathan Jackson smiled at the sleeping man. The long hours of worry were taking their toll on each of them. He'd noticed the lines of strain on the haggard faces and knew they'd stay in place until Chris was back home and well on his way to healing. Right now, even in sleep he could see the lines of pain on the bruised features. There's just too much cruelty in this world, he thought as he rubbed his own aching head. 

---

 "Bout time you woke up, Stud."

Larabee continued to fight to get his eyes open. His mind registered the pain even before he moved. "Buck?" he groaned.

"Yeah, it's me, Chris. How are you feeling?"

"Don't feel too good right now," the blond gasped.

"I don't expect you do. The doc said the nurse can give you something extra if it gets bad."

"I...I know, just hate taking too m...much. God, Buck, I hurt everywhere," Larabee moaned.

"Mr. Larabee, sometimes there's no other choice. You don't have to be tough twenty four/seven."

"Heard that b...before. M...maybe this'll stop," he whispered hopefully as the pain in his head and arm intensified.

"Chris, let her give you something," Wilmington suggested, reaching out to his friend and holding his shoulder.

"D...don't think I have much choice. M...make it s...stop," he pleaded, his eyes clenched tightly against the agonizing glare of the lights and throbbing of his arm.

Buck watched the nurse inject the extra painkiller into his friend's IV and nodded in gratitude.

"That should help, Chris," she said.

"T...thanks. H...hate b...being a w...wimp," Larabee mumbled.

"Hell, Stud," Wilmington fought to control the rising tide of emotions in his voice. "I don't think anyone could withstand what you're going through without needing help. Don't ever call yourself a wimp, Chris, because that's just not true."

"Is true, Buck, I...I t...think I may have begged N...Nguyen to stop what he was d...doing."

"Christ, Chris, who wouldn't? Look at what he did to you and tell me how you were supposed to stop yourself from begging him to stop. Even strong men have their limits, Pard, I'm not even sure if anyone but you could've taken what you did and still be alive to talk about it."

Larabee listened as Wilmington talked, letting the sound of his voice rather than the words he said calm him. The softly lilting voice and the added pain meds administered by the nurse combined to send him back into a deep sleep. Buck sighed with relief as the pain seemed to drain from his friend's face.

The ladies' man placed his head in his hands and gently rubbed tired eyes. He didn't know how long he stayed that way but a soft Texas drawl caused him to look up.

"How's he doing, Buck?"

"Thought you were supposed to be sleeping, Vin?"

"Did sleep. How's Chris?"

"Hurting! Marcia just gave him an extra shot of morphine. He was in so much pain, Vin."

Tanner looked down at the sleeping form, his blue eyes a testament to just how hard this was on him. "If only we'd gotten to him sooner," he hissed softly.

Wilmington reached out and grasped the younger man's arm. "Now you look here, Vin Tanner, you wipe that guilt off your face right now. Between you and Josiah, you saved his life and brought him back to us. Oh, he's hurt and hurt bad, but he's alive. If you guys hadn't found him when you did Chris would be dead and I...I'd be without my best friend. You and Josiah saved him, Vin, and we all owe you."

"Thanks, Buck, just wish we'd got to him before Nguyen did so much damage," Tanner whispered angrily.

"We all do, Vin, but at least he's alive and with his friends."

The two men sat in companionable silence and listened to the soft sounds emanating from the injured man. Dr. Jordan came by and checked on his patient. He told them how pleased he was with Larabee's progress and that they'd be moving him into a private room the next morning. The chest tube would be removed the following day.

When Jordan left, the sharpshooter stepped up to the bed and placed his hand on Larabee's shoulder, smiling weakly as he spoke. "Hear that, Cowboy, you'll be getting rid of at least one of the damned tubes." He was surprised when two tired green eyes opened and looked at him. "Hey, Cowboy, how're you doing?"

Larabee tried to concentrate on the words but just couldn't seem to. He felt so tired, so disconnected from his own mind and body.

"Chris, what's wrong?" Tanner asked as he saw the almost vacant look come over his friend's face.

Still the name and the face wouldn't quite come to him as other images were superimposed over the handsome features. Images of Chieu and his family mixed with images of Nguyen and the compound, the beatings, the burning sensation as the poker touched his bare skin. He groaned and closed his eyes in an effort to rid himself of the images. A hand on his shoulder made him jump but he felt something familiar in the touch. Once more he forced his eyes open and this time the blue eyes of Vin Tanner overcame every other image. Sighing deeply he opened his mouth and tried to speak. "V...Vin," he rasped as he was caught by a violent bout of coughing.

"Easy, Chris, hold this here," she said as she placed a pillow over the area with the broken ribs. "That's it now try to cough until it's all up. I know it sounds gross and it hurts but you really need to do it to keep your lungs clear." She helped him hold the pillow to his chest as he continued the coughing, tears streaming from his eyes. She held a handful of tissues in front of him to catch the stuff he managed to cough up.

The coughing subsided and he looked at the nurse. "Damn, t...that h...hurt," he gasped as he let his head fall back against the pillow.

"I bet it did, Pard," Wilmington said from beside the sharpshooter.

"Are you alright now, Chris?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I think so. Just feel so useless lying here."

"Well, Stud, looks like you're gonna feel useless for a few more days at least," Wilmington said with a grin.

"Thanks, Buck, you're all heart," Larabee said as he felt himself slip back towards sleep. "Feel so damned tired all the time."

"Go to sleep, Chris, your body needs it," the nurse said as she changed the IV meds over his bed. 

---

"Chris."

"Hmm," the blond mumbled sleepily.

"The orderly has just brought your dinner. Think you can sit up to eat it?"

Larabee opened his eyes and smiled at the young man sitting next to his bed. "JD, you okay, Kid?" he asked as he noticed the pale face on the younger man.

"I'm f...fine, Chris," Dunne answered as the nurse raised the head of Larabee's bed.

"Don't look fine. You look kinda tired. What is it with you guys? I don't need you all staying here," he told the youth, immediately regretting his words as Dunne's face filled with the hurt his words conjured up. "Ah, hell, Kid, it's not that I don't appreciate it but Travis is gonna need some of us healthy..."

"Travis needs all of you healthy, Chris."

Larabee smiled at the older man as he stepped into the room. "Didn't know you were there, Orrin," he said sheepishly.

"I can see that. How are you feeling, Son?"

"Been better, Orrin. Probably been worse too, but I can't seem to remember when right now."

"You've been worse than this, Chris?" the nurse asked incredulously.

"Actually, Ma'am, this is probably one of the worst times he's ever been hurt," Dunne grinned at the man in the bed.

"One of the worst? Chris, what have you been doing to yourself?"

"He carries too much of the load sometimes," Travis said. "It's about time he learned that he doesn't need to do it all himself."

"Okay, I get the point," Larabee said, closing his eyes in hopes of stopping the oncoming headache. He heard the nurse remove the covers from the tray and opened his eyes once more.

"I want you to eat this, Chris."

Larabee smiled weakly and looked at the thin broth and clear Jell-O. He struggled to a more comfortable position and smiled at JD as he slipped the pillows underneath him. "T...thanks, JD," he said as he picked up the spoon in his right hand. The IV made it awkward for him to feed himself but no one made a move to help, knowing it was an important step towards the injured man's recovery.

By the time Chris was finished eating the clear fluid diet he was ready to sleep once more. Closing his eyes he let himself drift as the tray was removed and his head lowered. He sighed contentedly as he felt the morphine work to lower the agony in his body.

"Goodnight, Chris," Travis whispered in case the other man was sleeping.

"...ght, O...Orrin. JD."

"Good night, Chris," Dunne said, he looked at his watch and saw it was only six thirty but his body felt as if it was a lot later than that.

"Go, JD, I told the guys you'd be going with them. I want you all to go to the hotel and get something to eat and get some sleep. Mary and I will cover him tonight," Travis said as he sat down beside the bed. "No arguments. Just go."

"You'll..."

"I'll call if anything changes. Now get out of here."

Dunne nodded and left the room.

"About time they got some rest."

"I thought you were sleeping, Chris?"

"Almost was. I just keep seeing the same damn thing every time I close my eyes."

"Chieu?"

Larabee nodded, his green eyes filled with unshed moisture. "Yeah. His whole family wiped out because of that Bastard," he hissed.

"That's right, Chris, because of that bastard. I'm glad you're finally realizing that. None of this was your fault."

"Yes, Orrin, it was. Chieu and his family would still be alive if it wasn't for me," Larabee snapped.

"Would they? How can you be sure of that? Nguyen set this all up to get his hands on you. Chieu was a pawn in his game. Did Chieu blame you for the deaths of his family?"

"No, but..."

"Chris, if the roles were reversed would you have sacrificed yourself for Chieu?"

"Of course I would," Larabee's voice was laced with anger.

"And would you have wanted Chieu to feel guilty about your sacrifice?"

"No, but..."

"Chris, Chieu gave his life for a man he considered a friend and brother. Don't sully that sacrifice by taking on the blame for his death and letting it make you bitter. He wouldn't have wanted it and his memory doesn't deserve it."

Larabee closed his eyes and thought about Travis's words. He knew what he said was true but it still hurt. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the moisture from his eyes, "Thanks, Orrin, I needed that," he said.

"You're welcome, Son, now go to sleep," Travis said as he covered the younger man with a warm blanket.

"Ok," Larabee mumbled as he relaxed and let the tension drain from his body.

---

Larabee, Christopher, Nguyen's fist descended towards him once more.

"No! Not again," he cried as his eyes snapped open and the bright sunshine hit them. He groaned as the pain in his body awakened with the rest of him. The nightmares slamming into him and forcing him to remember this was real and not a nightmare at all.

"Chris," the sharpshooter watched the bruised face fighting to erase the remnants of the nightmares that continued to haunt him. He watched as two green eyes opened and fought to stay that way. One green eye was still completely surrounded by vivid bruising and discoloration and only opened halfway, the other opened fully but was filled with a lingering pain. "Are you alright, Pard?"

Larabee swallowed painfully and struggled to sit up. "Dammit," he swore in frustration as the fiberglass casts covering his legs and arm made it impossible for him to move freely.

"Easy, Cowboy, let me help you."

"I'm tired of not being able to do things for myself, Vin. I want out of here. I want to go home."

"I know you do, Chris, but right now you need to relax and let the doctors help you."

"They can help me by letting me out of here. Hell, I can lie in bed at home and be a lot more comfortable than I am here," Larabee snapped as Nathan Jackson came into the room.

"I doubt that, Chris," Jackson said, he'd caught the tail end of the conversation and knew his boss was anxious to get out of the hospital and back home. "Right now you're not feeling much pain because they've got you on a morphine drip. Believe me you'll be sorry once they take that out."

"No, I won't. Tired of being here," Larabee told him.

"I know, Chris, but you have to realize you need to give yourself a chance to heal. Dr. Bradley and Dr. Jordan will be here shortly and they'll probably agree to moving you out of ICU and into a private room," Jackson told him.

"Are they gonna get rid of this damn tube?" Larabee hissed as he pointed to the tube in his side.

Tanner and Jackson smiled at each other as they noticed the blond was also pointing to the foley catheter. "I don't know, Chris, it depends on the last test results," Jackson explained.

Larabee closed his eyes, knowing he had no chance of convincing anyone that he was ready to go home. He lifted his hand and touched the side of his head, wincing as his hand came in contact with the bandaged area. "Dammit, is there anywhere he didn't hit me?" not realizing he'd voiced the question aloud.

"I don't think so," Tanner answered.

Larabee smiled as he looked at the tracker, "Sorry, didn't mean for you to hear that. Hate feeling sorry for myself."

"It's okay, Cowboy, you've got the right too," the sharpshooter told him.

"Chris, Dr. Jordan and Dr. Bradley are heading this way."

The two men walked into the room and stood beside the bed. "How are you feeling this morning, Chris?" Jordan asked.

"Better. I want to go home," Larabee answered causing both men to smile.

"Ask again in about two weeks," Bradley told him.

"Two weeks?"

"That's right. Look you've got a long way to go yet, Chris, before we even think about letting you out. Now if you gentlemen will excuse us we need to check our patient and see about moving him out of ICU," Bradley explained as a nurse came into the room.

Larabee watched his friends leave and waited for the doctors to begin their examination of him. They started with his head and moved slowly down his body, checking the arm, the wounds on his back and chest, and the casts on his legs. By the time they finished his body was a mass of agony and he clenched his fist in the sheets.

"Chris, I know that hurt but we have to make sure we get rid of the infections in those wounds. Mindy is going to give you another shot to help with the pain. Then she's going to take out the tube from your chest and then we'll get an X-ray to make sure all is well."

"T...the foley too?" Larabee asked hopefully.

"The foley too," Jordan laughed.

"So do I g...get out of here?"

"Yes, I'll leave word at the desk and they'll arrange a private room for you," Bradley told him.

"Thanks, least there I'll have a little freedom," the blond smiled tiredly as the extra medication flowed through his body.

"You're welcome. Now rest and let yourself heal," Jordan ordered.

"I will," Larabee told the two men as they left the room.

"Okay, Chris, have you had tubes removed before?"

"A few times," Larabee told her.

"Well then you know what to do," she removed the dressing and cut the suture holding it in place before removing the tube.

"Shit," Larabee swore, "S...sorry," he apologized as he tried to catch his breath.

"Someday they'll come up with a less painful way of getting rid of these things," she said as she pulled the suture thread and sealed the opening before placing a new dressing over the area.

"S...soon, I hope," Larabee smiled as the pain subsided. He closed his eyes as she moved down his body and readied himself for the uncomfortable sensation of having the catheter removed. The soft call of sleep soon held him in its grip and he stopped fighting the weariness of his body.

Mindy nodded to a technician and he brought in the portable X-ray machine. She watched him take the films and leave the room before signalling the two men they could come back in, warning them to be quiet and let the injured man sleep. She watched the younger man closely, noting the lines of pain on the handsome face as he looked towards the bed. She knew these two shared a close friendship and instinctively knew he would be the one to help Chris Larabee recover from the atrocities heaped on him.

The second man also struck her as being more than a friend but not as close as the younger man. She'd been told that her patient's friends would do anything and everything in their power to see this man through. She smiled at the two men as she covered Larabee with a blanket and moved away from the bed.

---

Larabee smiled at the seven men and one woman crowded in his room. He'd been moved out of ICU just after lunch and he'd opened his eyes to find the people he cared most about standing guard over him while he slept. "H...hi," he rasped and reached for the glass on the table in front of him. He sipped from the straw as eight pairs of eyes watched his every move. "What did I do?" he asked sheepishly.

"You did nothing, Chris, it's just nice to see you out of ICU," Mary told him as she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks, Mary," he said as he sipped more water.

"How are you feeling, Stud?"

Larabee smiled at the moustached man. "Never better, Buck." His words elicited laughter from everyone in the room and he held his injured ribs as he joined in.

"Sure you are, Cowboy," Tanner laughed.

"Mr. Larabee, I'm afraid you're not putting on a very convincing front," Standish observed.

"Chris," Mary smiled at the colorful face. "You're not fooling anyone."

"Wasn't trying," he said seriously. He felt another coughing spurt coming on and moaned as he held the pillow to his injured ribs.

Jackson moved in and helped him sit forward as the coughing intensified. "Don't fight it, Chris," he ordered as he felt the blond sag against him.

"H...hard...n...not t...too," Larabee hissed through the harsh coughs.

"I know, but it's got to be done," Jackson said.

Mary Travis moved out and allowed Vin Tanner to take her place. "Hey, Cowboy, you're doing great," the younger man said as he helped hold the pillow in place to brace his friend's injured ribs. He helped Jackson ease him back into the pillows as the coughing finally subsided.

"Damn, never s...seems to get e...easier," Larabee hissed.

"It will, Chris, just give it time," Jackson assured him. "Do you need anything extra for the pain?"

"No, thanks, Nate, I've had enough of that stuff," Larabee smiled weakly as Mary Travis moved back in and washed his face. "T...thanks," he whispered softly as he looked around the room. "You guys need to go home and get some rest. You look like sh... crap," he grinned as the blond woman blushed. "Look, guys, I'm just gonna go back to sleep and I won't even know you're here. Why don't you all take the afternoon off and go shopping. I mean there's so much to see here and if they'd let me I'd go with you. I know, Nathan," he grinned, "they won't let me, but you guys can go."

"Well, there are a few places I'd like to check out," Wilmington smiled.

"Sure, but there are no stores on the beach, Buck."

Wilmington's face turned beet red as the blond woman said the damning words. "Ah, M...Mary, I ah...I didn't mean that."

"Sure you didn't, Buck," Larabee laughed with the others at Mary's ability to make the ladies' man blush. "Now get out of here and don't come back till tomorrow," he ordered.

"You heard the man," Orrin Travis told them. "Let's get out of here and let the him rest. See you later, Chris."

"Get some sleep, Chris," Mary smiled as she kissed his cheek once more.

"I will, Mary, thanks," he told her as she followed her father-in-law out of the room.

"Take care, Mr. Larabee," Standish told him.

"See you later, Chris," Dunne grinned as he headed for the door.

"Watch those pretty nurses, Stud."

"Thanks, Buck, you best watch the ladies on the beach."

"Oh, don't worry, Chris, I plan on watching them real close if you catch my drift," he winked as he left the room.

"Rest, Chris, we'll be back," Jackson said as he left Chris, Vin, and Josiah alone in the room.

"Well, Brother, you just rest and let the nurses take care of you," Sanchez said as he moved to the opposite side of the bed and stood over the man he'd helped to rescue.

"Chris, are you sure you're alright?" Tanner asked.

"I'm fine, Vin, just tired."

"I've heard those words before," Sanchez said. "What's really going on, Brother?"

Larabee looked from one man to the other, tears glistening in his green eyes. "I keep getting glimpses of the rescue. I... I don't think I w... would've made it if it wasn't for the two of you."

"Curran's team would've got you out, Brother."

"T... that's not what I meant, Josiah. Curran's team probably would've got me out, but I don't think I would've lived. I h...heard the two of you t... talking to me and telling me everything's going to be alright. I don't think I'd be here now if it wasn't for your voices. I knew you two wouldn't let me give up and I... I owe you both my life."

"You owe us nothing, Chris."

"You don't understand, Vin. I knew I was going to die in Vietnam. I knew Nguyen wasn't going to let me escape again and yet I heard two voices calling me, telling me not to give up. That help was there. It was you two. I remember you both taking me down from Nguyen's rack and I thought I was dead and that this must be part of it. To live your last wish before you died. I wanted to escape Nguyen any way I could even if it meant dying, but you wouldn't let me give up. Your voices brought me back," Larabee told them as he yawned tiredly.

"I'm grateful you heard our voices, Brother, and decided to stay with us. You're a good man, Chris, and don't ever forget that."

"Thanks, Josiah."

"You're welcome."

"Josiah, you guys go on without me. I'm gonna stick around for a while."

Sanchez was about to argue but the look of relief that passed over the pale face of the man on the bed told him all he needed to know. "I'll let the others know," he assured Tanner as he left the two friends alone.

"Vin, you don't have to stay," the blond told him.

"I know that, Cowboy, but I'm going too. Now just close your eyes and sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Larabee nodded and closed his eyes. He thought of the past weeks and the time spent in the hands of a madman bent on making him suffer before he killed him. Images ingrained on his mind followed him into sleep. This time the face of a young man with long hair and blue eyes replaced the form of Billy Murphy in the cage next to his own. The pale face dripped blood from numerous cuts. The eyes were staring at him, lifeless, cold, and devoid of emotion. He struggled to get away from the gruesome image of his friend but the face continued to stare at him, blaming him for putting him in a cage.

Chris fought against the nightmare, knowing it was a dream yet unable to wake himself as Nguyen came for his friend. The questioning began anew but this time the sadistic Colonel took out his anger at Larabee's refusal to answer on Vin Tanner. Chris could only watch as the younger man was subjected to the riding crop and the stun gun. No, he cried as the body arched out of the chair. The eyes filled with hatred for him as he sat in his own chair and refused to answer the damning questions.

"No!" he cried out as his eyes snapped open and he fought to bring the two images before him under control. Finally the beaten and battered Vin Tanner disappeared as the healthy but pale young man stood before him.

"Must've been some dream, Cowboy," Tanner observed.

"Was, can't seem to shake them," Larabee hissed as he pushed the button to raise his head.

"Why don't you tell me about them?"

"What's to tell?" Larabee asked, immediately regretting the harsh tone of his voice. "Sorry, it's just hard to talk about right now."

"It might help," Tanner suggested.

Larabee nodded and let his body sag into the pillow. "Nguyen kept asking me the same thing over and over, Vin. He kept asking what C...Chieu told me. I knew damn well if I answered him he'd have won. I couldn't let him win. I couldn't give him the information even though he probably had it anyway. Chieu was a good friend and to give the colonel what he wanted would've meant betraying that friendship. I couldn't do that to him and Nguyen knew that. The son of a bitch just wanted to break me and I knew I couldn't let him do that," the blond said softly. "I couldn't let him win."

"He didn't, Chris, you beat him."

Larabee laughed as he looked down at his own body, the bruises, the casts, the cuts, the burns, everyone a painful reminder of his time in Vietnam. "That's funny, Vin, from where I lie he's the one who did the beating."

"You feeling sorry for yourself, Cowboy?"

Larabee swallowed deeply and met the intense blue eyes. "Truth, Vin?" at the nod from the younger man he continued. "I am feeling a little sorry for myself," he admitted.

"I can't say I blame you, Chris. He put you through hell but you survived it and fought to come back. We're proud of you, Cowboy. You fought where others would've given up and you didn't give Nguyen what he was after."

"I keep thinking of Chieu and his family. All dead because of that bastard."

"That's right, Chris, they're dead because of Nguyen not because of anything you did. Don't let him take away the good memories you have of Chieu."

"You sound like Travis," Larabee smiled as he watched his friend.

"Me? Damn, don't tell anyone."

"I just meant he said almost the same thing. Told me not to ruin Chieu's memories."

"Oh, in that case I don't mind sounding like him."

"Thanks for staying, Vin," Larabee yawned once more as his green eyes slid closed.

"No problem, Pard, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." 

---

Chris spent two long weeks in the hospital recovering from the injuries he'd received. He was far from well but the doctors were in agreement that he could make the trip home to Billings and undergo Physiotherapy at home. Vin Tanner was constantly at his side, helping him through the tough times as well as the good times. The bruises were finally fading but the other evidence of Larabee's captivity was still evident and painful.

"You sure you're ready for this, Cowboy?" Tanner asked.

"Vin, I've been ready for this for along time. I want to go home," Larabee assured him as two orderlies assisted the injured man into a wheelchair. "T...thanks," he said breathlessly as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

"Chris?"

"It's okay, Vin, Dr. Jordan told me I'd probably have headaches and dizzy spells for a while."

"I see you're all ready to go, Chris."

Larabee lifted his eyes and met those of the doctor who helped him through the ordeal. "Hi, Doc," he grinned, "No offence but I've never been more ready for anything."

Jordan smiled at his patient as Nathan Jackson came into the room. "I've given Nathan your prescriptions. There are antibiotics and painkillers. Don't be stubborn about taking them. The antibiotic ointment is for the burns and Nathan's going to make sure you use it. I've sent your files to Saint Vincent's and Dr. Midland is arranging everything from her end."

"Damn."

"I hear tell she's a formidable doctor and won't let you away with anything," Jordan smiled at the blond.

"She won't let any of us away with anything," Larabee hissed.

"Well then I don't feel so bad about letting you out of here. Just remember, Chris, you need to take it easy and let yourself heal. It's only been three weeks and you've still got some mending to do."

"I will, Doc."

"He won't have a choice," Jackson smiled at his boss. "He'll have six jailers to contend with. We'll see that he does what he's supposed to."

"That's good to hear, Nathan," Jordan looked back at the still pale man. "Chris, take care of yourself."

"I will, Doc, and thanks for everything."

"You're welcome," Jordan said, nodding to each of the men before he left.

"Alright, guys, let's get the hell out of here," Larabee hissed. "Damn, I can't wait to get home."

"Not much longer, Cowboy. Travis sent the jet to pick us up."

"Damn, guess we're going home in style," Larabee laughed as the orderly wheeled him from the room. 

---

"How are you doing, Chris?" Jackson asked as he helped the blond get ready for bed.

"Tired," Larabee answered honestly.

"Any pain?"

"A little," he admitted as Vin Tanner helped him out of his shirt.

"Vin, I'm gonna get his meds while you finish up in here," Jackson said.

"Alright, Nate," Tanner continued to remove the clothing from his friend and helped him lie back in the bed.

Larabee let the younger man ease him down in the bed. The long flight back left him fatigued and in pain. He sighed in contentment in spite of the pain as his body sank into the comforting familiarity of his own bed in his own home.

"Can I get you anything, Cowboy?" Tanner asked.

The recovering man grinned in spite of the pain. "Whiskey," he answered softly.

"Forget it," Jackson snapped as he rejoined them. "Whiskey's out for some time yet. Here," he said as he passed the blond two pills and a glass of juice. He knew his friend was in pain when the blond didn't bother with his usual comment of how he didn't need them. "Chris."

"Yeah."

"I've got to do those burns now."

"Alright," Larabee said as the blankets were folded down and Jackson smoothed the ointment over the still tender burns.

"I need to do your back as well," Jackson said.

The blond nodded and with Tanner's help he turned on his side, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused his throbbing limbs. "Shit," he swore softly as they eased him onto his back once more.

"Done," Jackson told him.

Larabee nodded and waited for the pain medication to ease his discomfort. It wasn't long before he fell into a light sleep and his two friends turned out the lights and left him to rest. 

---

"Chris, your guests are here," Wilmington said as he helped the blond into the wheelchair.

Larabee smiled at the ladies' man, "Thanks, Buck," he said as his friend manoeuvred him through the door and out into the front yard. He knew the five men walking towards him and he let a smile of gratitude show on his face as the SEAL team and Captain Dunne walked towards him.

"Hell, Hawkins, you were right," Leary said as they joined the two men in front of the ranch house. "There are two of them."

"Leary, don't you start," Curran snapped.

"Hello, Son," Dunne smiled as he joined them.

"Thanks for coming, Captain."

"I had too. I needed to see that you really were healing."

Larabee smiled at the older man. "I'm fine, Sir."

"Shit, he even sounds like you, Boss," Ramos laughed.

"Chris, I don't think we were properly introduced," Curran said. "I'm James Curran," the blond said and introduced the rest of his team.

Larabee smiled at the men, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the team that aided in his rescue. "Thanks."

"No thanks needed since we..."

"Don't exist," Larabee laughed at the blond haired SEAL.

"That's right," Curran joined the laughter.

"Are you sure you guys aren't related?" Wilmington asked.

"According to Josiah's research we are but it's so far back it's hard to find," Larabee explained. "Why don't you guys come inside. The rest of the guys will be here shortly."

"Thanks," Dunne said as he led the others into the house and held the door for Wilmington to push Larabee inside. 

---

"Okay if I join you?"

Larabee looked up to see the all too familiar face walking towards him. "Sure," he said as he accepted the steaming cup of coffee from the SEAL.

"How are you doing, Chris?"

"I'm alright, James."

"I've been through something similar and I know it takes a long time to get past the nightmares and the guilt," Curran said as he sat on the edge of the veranda. "I lost a good friend a few years ago in Beirut and nearly lost another friend because I thought he was guilty of causing Graham's death. He was guilty of making a bad decision but it was in the heat of the mission and he didn't think it through."

"Hawkins?"

"How'd you know?" Curran grinned.

"He just seems like the type. I think we all are to a certain extent."

Curran's eyebrows rose as he looked at Larabee. "Don't let him hear you say that or I'll never live it down."

"I won't."

"Vin seems like a good friend."

"He is. He's always there and always knows what to do or say."

"He sounds a lot like Graham. They would've got along well."

"Graham must've been a good man," Larabee observed and grew quiet.

"He was. Look, Chris, the reason I came out was to tell you that Chieu was also a good man. He didn't blame you for anything that happened to him or his family. He gave up his life trying to rid the world of Nguyen."

"I know," Larabee swallowed a small amount of the coffee and once more met Curran's eyes. "He didn't deserve what happened to him. His son didn't deserve to die," Larabee looked at his fingers. "Nguyen killed them all, but--"

"No buts, Chris, Nguyen killed them."

"I know," Larabee unconsciously rubbed his fingernails. Remembering the first time Nguyen had him and the feeling of having bamboo shoots shoved under his nails. The care and concern of the Chieu family during his recuperation that first time in Vietnam. The family gave up everything for him, including their lives and he knew his friends were right. He couldn't let his last memories of them remind him of pain. He needed to remember how much they meant to him and how much they'd given willingly to a man they'd hardly known.

"Are you alright, Chris?"

"I think so," Larabee said. "Just remembering what's important."

"Chieu?"

Larabee nodded, "Chieu and his family and what they gave up for me. What they did for me and I'm not going to let their memory be scathed because of Nguyen. I'm going to remember the good times. I'm going to remember a small boy's laughter and his father's friendship. I'm going to remember how much his friendship meant to me and how it helped me through hell."

"I'm glad to hear that, Chris. Are you ready to join the others?"

"You go ahead, James, I'll be in shortly."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Larabee said as the SEAL went back inside. He closed his eyes and let the warmth of Chieu's friendship flow through him. He knew the man and his family were gone but that didn't mean they'd be forgotten. "Thanks Tran, I wish things were different," he whispered. "To friendship," Larabee said as he lifted his coffee cup towards the multitude of stars overhead.

"You alright, Cowboy?"

Larabee smiled as the sharpshooter came around the corner of the house. "I think so, Vin," he answered softly.

"Didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone I'll go back with the others."

"No, Vin, it's all right. I was just saying good bye to an old friend."

"You're a good friend, Chris."

"Thanks, Vin," Larabee smiled as he heard the door of the house open and Buck Wilmington joined them.

"You boys alright?" the ladies' man asked.

"We're fine, Buck," the blond answered. "Everyone alright in there?"

"They're fine. Just wondering when the host is gonna join us."

Larabee smiled at the two men, one his oldest friend who'd seen him through a lot of hardships. The other a more recent acquaintance, yet he knew the younger man could read him better than anyone else in the world. These two men were so different, but they'd both seen, in Larabee, the need for not only friendship but brotherhood and they gave it freely. "Right now, Buck," Larabee said as Tanner took the handle of the chair and wheeled him through the open door. Laughter and friendship met him as he joined the group in his living room and he knew he was finally home. The healing, not quite complete, was well on the way and he'd have these friends, old and new, to help him through once more.

THE END