Chris stood in the spacious waiting room, his throat screaming loudly as he tried to answer the nurse's questions. He'd finally given in to Nathan's and Stacey Midland's cajoling and agreed to see Dr. Carolyn Murphy.

"Mr. Larabee, you just need to fill out these questions about your insurance and medical history."

"I hope there's a lot of space for medical history."

Larabee turned on the younger man who'd volunteered to make sure Chris kept his appointment with the Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist. "Shut up, Vin," his voice sounded raspy and low as he swallowed painfully.

"Hey, Cowboy, it's not my fault you don't do as the doctors tell you," Tanner grinned as Larabee turned a glare on him.

"D...don't make me s...shoot you, Vin,' he whispered and turned away as a bout of harsh coughing took over.

"Damn, Larabee, ya wanna stop hackin' all over the place."

"Mr. Larabee, Dr. Murphy will see you now," the secretary took the completed chart from the blond and opened a door that lead into an examination room. "Mr. Tanner, you can wait here.

Chris walked into the examination room and sat on the edge of the bed. He hated being sick, but even worse he hated the resultant trips to the hospital or doctor's offices. The medicinal smell of the tiny room made his stomach churn. He swallowed painfully and grabbed for the tissue box. "Shit," he hissed and groaned as the barely audible word caused his raw throat to protest.

"That doesn't sound good, Mr. Larabee."

Chris looked up into the face of the newcomer. She was no older than he was with jet black hair and the darkest eyes he'd ever seen. "S...sorry," he apologized.

"How long have you had the sore throat?"

"About two weeks," he whispered.

"Why haven't you seen a doctor before now?"

"I have."

"What did they say?" she asked, sitting in the chair by the bed and studying his chart.

"Gave me some antibiotics."

"Did you take them?"

"Yes," he answered without meeting her eyes.

"All of them?" she asked, knowing instinctively this man was a stubborn patient.

"W...well," he answered.

"I thought so. Ok, let's take a look at you," she suggested as she stood up and faced the pale man. "Open up," she ordered and used a tongue depressor to check his throat. "I'm going to take a swab, Mr. Larabee."

"How's it look?" his scratchy voice asked.

"Well, your tonsils are swollen and there's evidence of an infection, possibly strep throat," she told him as she took a swab of the back of his throat.

"Oh great," he snapped. "Sorry," he apologized immediately.

"Apology accepted," she smiled at him as she took out the prescription pad. "I'm going to write you a prescription for antibiotics and this time I want you to make sure you take them all."

"Sure, Doc," he told her, grimacing as his throat felt as if it was on fire.

"Mr. Larabee, I want to see you in one week," she told him as soon as she'd finished examining the coughing man.

Larabee accepted the prescription and walked out of the tiny room.

"Make sure you arrange for the appointment."

"I will," he mumbled painfully.

"What'd she say, Chris?" Tanner asked as Larabee exited the room.

"I have a sore throat," Larabee snapped.

"Really? I thought your voice was getting scratchy from old age and overuse. You've been doing an awful lot of shouting at the office lately," Tanner grinned as Larabee glared at him once more.

"Let's go," the blond hissed.

"Mr. Larabee, did Dr. Murphy want you to make another appointment?"

The blond let his hand drop from the handle of the door and knew his companion would not let him leave until he was sure Chris wasn't supposed to return. He turned back to the desk ignoring the wide grin on Vin Tanner's face. "She said she wants to see me in a week," he answered.

The secretary smiled as she gave him an appointment for the same time one week later.

"Thanks," Larabee whispered, the pain at the back of his throat quickly gaining momentum.

"Thought you could get out of another visit did you, Cowboy?" Tanner asked. A patented Larabee glare was the only answer the younger man received as they left the office.

---

Three weeks later, and another prescription of antibiotics found Chris sitting in Dr. Murphy's office. "Antibiotics, what're those?" Larabee asked, resting his pounding head in his hands.

"The damn things the doctor gave you, Chris. Why the hell haven't you been taking them?" Jackson asked angrily.

"Forgot them," Larabee answered sheepishly.

"Well now you'll just have to put up with it 'cause the docs are gonna take the damn tonsils out. Start practicing that glare 'cause that's about all you'll be doing for a few days."

"Hell, Nate, is there any good news here?"

"Yeah, we won't have to listen to you bitch and complain about how sore your throat feels 'cause you probably won't feel up to talking."

"Nathan, anyone ever tell you, you have lousy bedside manners?"

"I'm not a doctor, Chris, so I don't need good bedside manners."

"Dr. Murphy will see you now, Mr. Larabee," the secretary smiled at the two men in the waiting room.

"Thanks," his voice was barely above a whisper as he walked towards the examination room. This time he sat in the chair instead of on the bed as he waited for the specialist to enter the room. Truth was his throat felt worse and he was having trouble swallowing again and that was one of the reasons he hadn't been taking the antibiotics. They felt like they scratched the hell out of his abused throat. He Looked up and smiled thinly as the female specialist entered the room. "Hi, Doc," he rasped.

"You still sound lousy, Mr. Larabee," Carolyn Murphy observed.

"I...I..."

"Don't try to talk. Open up at let me take a look," she ordered. "Well, there's no doubt in my mind, Mr. Larabee, those babies have to come out," she said as she removed the tongue depressor and disposed of it.

"Can't you just give me some more antibiotics?" Larabee groaned.

"They're not working. If anything the tonsils are bigger than they were on your first visit. I'll let my secretary know and she'll arrange the time and date before you leave today."

"Hell, Doc, I don't have time for this," Larabee hissed.

"Mr. Larabee, there really is no choice. If we don't take them out they'll just get worse and you'll keep feeling as lousy as you do right now. I'm sorry, they really do need to come out."

Larabee swallowed painfully and glared at the smiling doctor. "Are you sure there's no other way?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not. Come with me and I'll tell Shelly what we need," Murphy opened the door and led the unwilling man back to the outer office. "Have a seat, Chris, Shelly will call you when she has everything set up."

Larabee sat in the seat next to Nathan Jackson. He leaned his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes.

"Well?"

"Well what, Nathan?" Larabee's pained voice asked.

"What did she say?"

"Her exact words were, 'Mr. Larabee, those babies have got to come out,'" Larabee said softly.

"I told you," Jackson scolded.

"Nathan, my damned head's about to explode. Can you save the I told you so's for later?"

"You brought this all on yourself and I got no sympathy for you," Jackson warned.

"You're all heart," Larabee hissed.

"When is this supposed to happen," Jackson asked.

"I don't know," the blond answered. "The secretary is supposed to make the arrangements."

"Mr. Larabee."

Chris opened his eyes, stood up and walked to the secretary's desk.

"I've got the time and date for you right here. You're lucky we had a cancellation about an hour ago so you won't have long to wait."

Larabee looked at the paper, a scowl quickly forming on his face. "The twentieth! That's a week from today. I don't have time for this right now. I've got too many things to do."

"Chris," Jackson took the papers from the older man. "The faster this is done the better. I'll arrange to have the physical done tomorrow."

"Dammit, Nathan. I got too many things..."

"Chris! Your health should be the only thing on your mind right now. I'll make sure he's there," Jackson told the doctor, who stood by watching the two men.

"All right and make sure he doesn't eat or drink anything after midnight the day before surgery," the doctor told him.

"I don't need a keeper," Larabee glared from Jackson to Murphy.

"Somehow I don't believe you, Mr. Larabee," Murphy smiled as she walked back into her office.

"Come on, Chris, we've got a lot to get done between now and next Tuesday."

"Hell, Nathan, I don't seem to have a choice so I'll just leave it all up to you since you're so keen on the job," Larabee hissed sarcastically.

"Well now, Chris, that's a great idea. That way we're sure you'll do what you're supposed to," the medic grinned at the glaring man as they walked out of the office.

---

Chris laughed as he spotted the razor Buck brought into the office. The thing was a foot long, powder blue, and wrapped by a big red bow. The Firm's leader eyed him quizzically until Buck shrugged and told him it was for shaving him.

"He's having his tonsils out, Mr. Wilmington, not a vasectomy," Standish informed them.

"Well, don't they shave ya for everything now a days?" the ladies' man teased.

"Buck!" Larabee couldn't suppress the smile as the mustached man handed him the large disposable razor. "Where the hell do you find this shit?"

"I can't reveal trade secrets, Chris. Lets just say this one was easier than some of the others I've found. By the way I bought you a supply of ice cream," the ladies' man smirked.

"Where from this time?" Larabee asked.

"Knowing Buck it'll be someplace like..." Dunne started.

"Never mind, JD, I'd rather not think about it," Larabee laughed. He knew his friends were trying to lighten his mood. Just as he knew the surgery he was having was minor but it still made him nervous. Just the thought of being in a hospital gave him the chills. He smiled at Wilmington and the others in the office. "Hey, it's only tonsils, right?"

"Right," Jackson agreed.

"After everything else we've been through this should be a walk in the park," Larabee told them.

"A walk in the park," Tanner drawled, his eyes searching the green orbs of his best friend. 'I'll be there, Cowboy,' he silently sent.

'I know,' Larabee sent back as the men left to go on with their jobs.

---

"So, Stud, are you nervous?" Wilmington asked the following Monday morning.

"Shut up, Buck," Larabee snapped. He'd come into the office to finish off some last minute paperwork and make sure everything was up to date. Dr. Murphy informed him he'd be off work for at least two weeks and he'd smiled at her. He was already thinking about where she'd find him the day after he was released from the hospital. 'It's only tonsils,' he thought with a grin, scowling as his raw throat made itself known once more.

"I do hope Dr. Murphy's surgery can help you find your sunny disposition again."

"Buck, just shut up!"

Wilmington loved to irritate his friend, but he knew when to stop and this was the time. Larabee had been shot, beaten, knifed, and just about everything else you could name. It seemed that this simple childhood procedure made him more nervous than all the others combined. "Anything I can do for you, Chris?" the ladies' man asked.

Larabee shook his head and turned back to the papers on his desk. "Thanks, Buck, but as soon as I get this paperwork finished I'm heading home," he said.

"Do you need a ride," Wilmington asked, a worried frown on his face.

"No thanks, I brought the truck."

"Alright, Chris. Who's driving you to the hospital in the morning?"

"Vin," Larabee answered. "And Nathan, seems he doesn't trust me."

"Nathan doesn't trust any of us to do what we're supposed to when it comes to the hospital," the ladies' man grinned.

Larabee returned the smile and opened a file on his desk.

"Well, I guess I'll let you finish up so you can get out of here," Wilmington told him.

"Thanks, Buck," Larabee said and turned back to the paperwork without seeing what he was working on. The words blurred at the thought of going into the hospital the next morning. 'Hell, Larabee, kids do it all the time,' he thought as he tried to focus. An hour later he was still on the same page of the same file, 'Shit, might as well give it up and go home,' he thought angrily.

---

Chris opened his eyes as the shrill screech of the alarm went off next to his head. He slammed his fist down on the clock in hopes of making the irritating sound disappear. He knew it was after four when he'd finally fallen asleep. He sat up on the edge of the bed and noted that it was five thirty. Vin and Nathan would be there to pick him up in less than two hours. He rubbed his eyes and made his way towards the shower. He stretched his arms high above his head in order to relieve some of the tension in his muscles. He turned on the shower and eased his nude body under the hot water. The massaging stream hit his shoulders and ran slowly down his back as he leaned heavily against the wall.

Chris totally lathered his body and hair before rinsing off and exiting the shower. He wanted a coffee so badly but knew it was out of the question this morning. He was due at the hospital in an hour and a half. His surgery was scheduled for ten am and he had to be there two hours before to check in. The only good thing about the surgery was that he'd be in and out on the same day. That meant he could come home, rest for the day and go into the office the next morning. He smiled as he thought of the doctor telling him he'd be off for two weeks.

"No way in hell I'll be off two days let alone two weeks," he said aloud, groaning as his sore throat cracked in the quiet of the house.

He dressed in his black jeans and pulled on a black turtleneck, shivering and rubbing his arms in an effort to warm up. He pulled on a pair of black socks and shoes to match the mood he was in. Somehow he knew this was not going to be as easy as he thought. For him it never was easy. He looked longingly at the coffeepot and hurried towards it. 'What harm can one cup do?' he thought as he set it up and switched it on.

He sat in a chair by the center island, enjoying the rich aroma floating around the kitchen. The strong flavored coffee made his stomach grumble in anticipation and he waited for the gurgling to stop. He poured the aromatic brew into the cup and sat looking into the dark depths. "Hell," he said as he slid the cup away from him. He moved out of the kitchen and into the living room.

The blond sank down into his favorite chair and let his head lean back against the soft cushions. He breathed deeply as he felt the lack of sleep seep into his body. He closed his eyes and let his mind wonder back over the past week. He smiled as he thought of the teasing he'd endured because of his upcoming surgery. Knowing how much he hated hospitals his friends tried to ease the tension by making jokes. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the sound of the doorbell startled him.

He hurried to the door and opened it, smiling as the sharpshooter and medic stepped into the house. "Morning," he greeted the two newcomers.

"Morning, Cowboy. Are you ready?" Tanner asked.

Jackson sniffed the air and looked towards the blond. "Is that coffee?" he asked.

"Yeah, Nathan, it is."

"Chris, you know you're not supposed to..."

Larabee held up his hand in an effort to stave off the anger he could see on the man's face. "Nathan, I made it. Shit, I even poured it up but I didn't drink it."

"You didn't?" Jackson's voice sounded relieved as he looked at the older man.

"I didn't," Larabee assured him.

"Good thing. Dr. Murphy would've piled into you even worse than I would have. Are you ready to go?"

"I think so. It's only one day, right?"

"One day in the hospital as long as there're no complications," Jackson told him.

"Nathan?"

"Chris, we're all hoping it's only one day, but then you're gonna need to rest up at home."

"I will," Larabee lied smoothly. His eyes met those of his best friend and he knew Tanner was reading him like an open book. He smiled at the younger man as he reached for his black jacket. "Well, lets get this over with," he said, opening the door and holding it for Nathan Jackson.

"You're not fooling me at all, Larabee," Tanner whispered as he walked past the Firm's leader.

"Never could, Tanner," the blond smiled at the retreating form. He locked the door and followed the other two men to the jeep.

---

Chris checked in at day surgery, smiling at the brunette who took his paperwork.

"Just have a seat and your nurse will be out for you shortly." Jane Watson couldn't help but admire the handsome man standing before her. The green eyes were devastating in their intensity. She fought to keep the blush off her face as he turned away and her eyes strayed to the form fitting jeans. 'There should be a law against such perfection,' she thought. Her mind turned to the man she'd been married to for eighteen years. 'Why can't David still look like that?' She sighed and finished the paperwork.

Chris walked to the chairs and sat down heavily. He could feel Jackson and Tanner watching him. He smiled as he thought of what their reaction would be if he bolted. He breathed deeply and fought the urge. He hated hospitals, hated having surgery, and hated the idea of being under anesthetic again.

"Chris Larabee."

He turned to see a middle aged, slightly overweight nurse walking towards them. He stood up and looked at her. "That'd be me," he answered.

"Follow me please. I'm Daisy and I'm one of the Day Surgery Nurses. I'll be looking after you while you're here, Mr. Larabee."

"Call me Chris," Larabee requested and followed the nurse through doors marked Day Surgery. He knew Jackson and Tanner were following him.

"Go into this room and put these on. You can leave on your underwear and socks," Daisy ordered as she passed him two gowns. "Tie one at the back and one at the front. When your done just come around to the desk."

Larabee nodded and moved into the tiny cubicle. He slowly undressed leaving on the items she'd told him. He finished dressing and walked out of the room, glaring at Tanner when he opened his mouth to speak.

"What?" Tanner asked.

"Not a word!"

"I was just gonna tell ya to pull the gown down at the back, your skivvies are showing."

Larabee reached behind, hiding his embarrassment and then grinned as he realized Tanner was trying to lighten his mood. "I oughta shoot you," he laughed as he walked towards the desk.

Jackson and Tanner's eyes met and they smiled. Both men knew how much their friend hated hospitals and surgery. They knew it made him feel like he was losing control, especially once they put him to sleep. They all felt the same way.

The next fifteen minutes were spent taking his vitals, weighing him, and filling out more permission papers. Daisy commented that his blood pressure was a little high, but told him it was normal under the circumstances. She showed him to a cubical with a stretcher in it and told him they'd come for him as soon as the doctor was ready.

"You all right, Chris?" Jackson asked, noting the blond glancing at the clock. Time was moving fast and it was a few minutes before ten.

"I'm fine, Nathan. You guys should've left long ago."

"You telling me you didn't enjoy our company?" Tanner asked.

"I wouldn't say that, Vin, it just seems selfish to make you guys stay."

"We stayed because you're a friend, Chris," Jackson explained. "We know how much you love being in the hospital."

The three men laughed as Daisy came around the corner. "They're ready for you, Chris."

Tanner's blue eyes met Larabee's green ones and a silent signal passed between them. A slight nod of the blond head told the sharpshooter that he really was all right with this.

"See you in a little while, Cowboy," Tanner assured his friend.

Larabee nodded and followed the nurse along the corridor and through a door marked authorized personnel only. Another nurse took over from there and he followed her to a door. He was led inside a cold, sterile room. A narrow bed was in the center with a large overhead spotlight. An IV pole was already set up beside it and he followed the nurse to the bed. He sat on the edge and was soon lying flat on his back. He listened as the nurse described what she was doing as she attached the normal leads to his body. His left arm was pulled out to his side and the anesthetist explained he was starting an IV and once Dr. Murphy showed up they'd be putting him to sleep. The blond smiled thinly, knowing he shouldn't have been so familiar with the drill.

Dr Murphy entered the room and came over to speak with him. "How are you doing, Mr. Larabee?"

"I'm fine," he answered.

"Any last minute questions?"

"One," he said with a cocky grin.

"What is it," Murphy frowned.

"Where's the back door outta here?"

Murphy laughed at the look on her patient's face, unsure whether he was being truthful or not. "Dr. Jacobs, I think you'd better put him to sleep before he bolts."

"I'm adding the anesthetic now," Jacobs informed her.

"Hmm," Larabee mumbled as the drugs took immediate affect.

---

"Mr. Larabee, it's time to wake up."

He tried to force his lids to obey, but they seemed to weigh a ton. He could hear worried voices and knew he should recognize them. He tried to speak but the pain at the back of his throat was too much and he moaned softly.

"Mr. Larabee, we need you to open your eyes now."

'I'm trying,' he swore, but nothing escaped his raw throat. He could hear them talking but the words didn't make much sense. Someone said something about his running a temperature. Someone else mentioned his throat was swollen and he thought he laughed. Again no sound escaped his throat as he said. 'I just had my tonsils out, people, it's supposed to be swollen.' He felt something placed over his head and a cool mist entered his lungs.

"I want him admitted," Murphy said as she checked Larabee's vitals.

"I'll call and see if they have a bed available," the recovery room nurse assured her.

"I'm going to talk to his friends and let them know what's happening."

Chris tried to rally. He didn't want to stay in the hospital. 'Day surgery. Supposed to go home right after. Go to work tomorrow,' he thought as he sank back to sleep.

---

"Mr. Jackson, Mr. Tanner."

Both men stood up as the female surgeon walked towards them.

"How is he, Doc?" Jackson asked.

"Is he awake?" Tanner asked.

"Sit down, Gentlemen," Murphy told them.

"What's wrong," Tanner's voice was instantly suspicious as he stood his ground.

"We've run into a couple of problems."

"You told us surgery went well," Jackson observed.

"It did. Mr. Larabee is running a fever and there's a lot of swelling at the back of his throat. We've been trying to wake him, but he's just not responding the way he should."

"Why isn't he responding?" the sharpshooter asked.

"I think he's just under really deep. We've put him on oxygen to bring his levels up. What I'm worried about is the elevated temperature and the swelling."

"What're you gonna do?" the younger man asked.

"I've admitted, Mr. Larabee, at least until the swelling and temperature goes down."

"For how long?"

Murphy studied the longhaired man sitting across from her. "I can't answer that until he's more responsive. Now if you gentlemen will wait here the nurses will let you know when they've assigned Mr. Larabee to a room. It may be some time. There's been a major car accident on the outskirts and beds are in short supply."

"We'll be here, Doc, thanks."

Murphy nodded and left the two men to their thoughts.

"Chris ain't gonna like this," Tanner muttered.

"I never should've said the word," Jackson whispered.

"What word?"

"Complications."

"Shit, Nathan, ya think maybe you jinxed him," Tanner tried to sound light-hearted, but the worry showed through his eyes.

"I sure as hell hope not," Jackson hissed as he noted it was a little after two pm. "I'm gonna call the office and update them."

Tanner nodded as the medic walked to the bank of pay phones along the back wall. Each man had his cell phone, but knew it was imperative they turn them off in the hospital. He settled into the uncomfortable chair and watched the entrance to day surgery. He listened to the one sided conversation as Jackson explained to Sanchez what was happening. He knew his friend would be all right and a small smile touched his lips. 'Leave it to you to make a simple operation complicated, Cowboy,' he thought.

Jackson hung up the phone and sauntered back to his companion. "They'll be here shortly. I told them we'd call as soon as we knew anything, but they insisted on being here."

"Figured as much. Reckon we're all a little worried," Tanner told him. The two men settled in to wait for news of their friend.

---

Two hours later, and countless trips to the nursing station to ask about Chris, found six men sitting in the day surgery waiting room.

Vin held a paper in his hands, but didn't remember a word of what he read. Buck and JD were watching the small overhead TV. Josiah held a small dog-eared bible in his hands. Nathan watched Standish shuffle a deck of cards.

Vin's head snapped up as the double doors opened and a stretcher came through it. He knew instinctively who was on it and hurried to the door. His eyes raked over the sleeping form and he grimaced as he took in the collar around his neck. "How is he?" he asked the nurse, grateful for the strength he felt as the other five joined him.

"He's doing okay," a silver haired nurse answered in a soft voice. "We need to get him to his room. I'd like you gentlemen to give us an hour to get him settled before you come up to see him."

"We will, Ma'am. What floor is he gonna be on?" Jackson asked.

"He'll be on the third floor. Room three forty four."

"Third floor?" Jackson's voice sounded incredulous.

"It's the only bed we have available right now. We have to go. Make sure you give us an hour."

"Yes, Ma'am," the medic assured her.

"Nathan, what's wrong?" Wilmington asked.

"Huh? Oh, nothing, Buck."

"Don't give me that, Nathan. What's going on? Did you see something else wrong with Chris? Besides the collar they've got wrapped around his neck? What the hell is that thing for anyway?"

"Buck, hold up a minute. One question at a time." Jackson rubbed his temples before explaining. "The collar around his neck is probably an ice pack to help keep the swelling in his throat from getting any worse."

"Reckon," Tanner observed. "Why did you look so surprised when she said they were taking him to the third floor?"

Jackson eyed each man as he answered. "Third floor is Pediatrics."

"What?" Wilmington couldn't help but laugh. "You mean when Chris wakes up he'll be on the kiddie floor?"

"Exactly."

"Mr. Larabee will be outraged at having to stay in the hospital, but I want to see his face when he finds out he's on a floor reserved for children," Standish smiled, his gold tooth gleaming in the bright light.

"I'm not sure you'd live through the experience, Ez," Wilmington returned the smile.

"Well, at least with the insurance he won't have to share a room," Sanchez told them.

"Thank God," Jackson muttered, dropping heavily into a chair.

---

Jeremy watched as a bed was pushed into the room. He sat on the edge of his bed and craned his neck to see who his new roommate would be. His large dark brown eyes grew round as saucers when he saw the man on the bed. 'He's a bit old,' he thought as the curtain was drawn. He pulled his earphones back over his head and listened to the music as he waited for the nurses to finish up.

---

"Mr. Larabee."

Chris struggled to open his eyes, confused by the cold feeling around his neck. His eyes finally focused and he looked tiredly at the silver haired nurse standing beside him. He tried to speak, but the strain on his throat caused him to gag and his stomach lurched. A basin was placed in front of him and his head lifted despite the collar around his neck. His stomach emptied, his throat constricted and he fought back the urge to cough.

"Take it easy, Mr. Larabee. Your throat probably feels pretty lousy especially after what just happened. Do you think you can shift over onto the bed for me? It'll be a lot more comfortable than this stretcher."

Larabee glared at the older woman as an orderly moved to the opposite side of the bed. "N...no!" he groaned.

"That's okay. You just lie still and Jimmy and I will do all the work. Are you ready, Jimmy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the young orderly answered as he reached across and took hold of the blanket under the patient.

"N...no. I can do it!" the blond's voice was low, yet held that tone that made his enemies run for the hills.

"Alright then," the nurse motioned Jimmy to move away. "Scoot on over," she told him.

"No!" green eyes flashed dangerously as Larabee sat up.

"What do you mean no? Surely you'd rather sleep on a bed than this hard thing." She indicated the stretcher he was on.

"I'll sleep at home," he told her adamantly.

"Mr. Larabee, right now you'll scoot your bottom over in the bed and stop giving me any more grief."

His throat felt as if it was on fire, but he refused to give in. He fought to find his voice and struggled to force the words out. "D...day s...surgery! Dr. M...Murphy said I'd go home s...same day."

"Well it looks as if she's changed her mind. Now stop acting like a kid and move over."

"Not a...acting like a kid," Larabee hissed at the older woman's audacity. "T...tell her I w...want to see her."

"She'll be up to check on you shortly. Jimmy, help me move him over."

"I'll do it," he snapped softly, groaning as he slid his tired body onto the softer mattress.

"That wasn't so bad now was it? My name is Martha and I guess I'm gonna be stuck with you during your stay. Since this is the children's ward you'd best set a good example. Jeremy over there is a perfect example of how a patient should behave. Right, Jeremy?" Martha asked as Jimmy moved the stretcher out of the room.

Chris felt the lingering effects of the anesthetic and shook his head. He could've sworn she said Children's ward and he prayed that he was hearing things. He felt Martha check the IV in his arm and he glanced at her once more. "C...children's ward?"

She smiled at her new patient, "Only bed available I'm afraid," she explained as she took his blood pressure and temperature.

"Bed at home," he told her.

"I'm sure there is, but with a temperature of one hundred and three point two you won't be going there today. How's your throat?"

"Feels like bee's built a hive in there," he answered honestly.

"It's time for your medications. I'll be right back with the antibiotics and something to ease the pain." Martha patted his shoulder and hurried from the room.

Chris rested his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. His hand touched the collar around his throat and he knew it was an ice pack. He felt cold and pulled the blanket up over himself. A sound from behind the closed curtains grated on his raw nerves.

"Uh, uh,
uh huh
Uh what
Hey yo, you can hit the dance floor now, you ain't gotta wait
We can take this outside, you ain't gotta hate.
This here's a family affair, the family is here.
Everybody put your hands in the air."

"Shit," Larabee groaned and covered his aching head. As suddenly as the words started they ended and Chris heard the door open.

"I have your medications, Mr. Larabee," Martha said. She placed a small bag of antibiotics over his head before injecting morphine into his IV. "Dr. Murphy is at the desk and said to tell you she'll be in to see you in a few minutes."

"Good, tell her to s...sign my discharge papers."

"You can tell her that yourself," she informed him. "Your oxygen intake is a little low so I'm gonna put these on you."

"Shit," the blond snapped as nasal canulas were placed over his head.

"Mr. Larabee, kindly remember your room mate is only fourteen. Please refrain from any profanity."

"S...sorry," he glared at her.

"Hello, Mr. Larabee," Carolyn Murphy greeted as she came into the room.

"Doc. What h...happened?"

"Well, there were complications."

"Complications?" he rasped painfully.

"I'm afraid so. There's a lingering infection that's causing your elevated temperature and the back of your throat has swollen more than it should have."

"Supposed to go home today."

Murphy smiled at the handsome man. "You won't be leaving until the swelling in your throat and your temperature goes down."

"Doc!"

"We need to find out what's causing the infection, Mr. Larabee. That means we need to run some tests and that means we need you here. If it goes down on its own in the next few days then I'll sign the discharge papers."

Larabee yawned as he glared at the doctor. Unable to resist the call of sleep his eyelids dropped and a slight sigh passed his lips.

"Keep an eye on his temperature. If it gets any higher call my office. Make sure you keep the ice pack around his neck. For now, sleep is the best thing for him. When his friends get here tell them to keep it short and don't wake him."

"I will, Dr. Murphy," Martha watched the doctor leave, adjusted the flow of oxygen and the IV solution. She parted the curtain and looked at her second patient. Jeremy Talbot was a fourteen year old angel as far as she was concerned. His sunny disposition melted the heart of the iciest nurse. He'd been brought in with a ruptured appendix and would be going home in a few days. He never gave her or any of the other nurses any problems. The sandy blond hair hung low over his eyes and she could hear him singing along with a slow Garth Brooks song. "How are you doing, Jeremy?" she asked, touching his hand to gain his attention.

"I'm fine, Mrs Cantrell. What's wrong with Mr. Larabee," he asked, having heard the name she'd used.

"He had his tonsils out. He needs to sleep right now so please be on your best behavior."

"I will. He doesn't look too good with that thing around his neck."

"He's pretty sick right now, Jeremy. You just let him rest and he'll be fine. Buzz me if you need anything."

"I will," he watched her leave, a twinkle of mischief shining in his eyes. To his family he was an angel, to the nurses on the floor he was the perfect patient, and to his roommate he would be neither.

---

Chris heard laughter and wondered why someone thought his misery was funny. He heard a voice he didn't recognize and frowned as he remembered snatches of a rap song. He didn't open his eyes, not wanting the voices to realize he was awake yet. His head pounded but the worst was when he tried to swallow. Knife like daggers erupted in his throat and memories assaulted his senses. "Tonsils," he muttered sharply, not realizing the word escaped his throat.

Vin moved away from Jeremy's bed and checked on the figure behind the drawn curtains. The others left earlier in the evening, but he elected to stay and keep his friend company. The fourteen year old in the next bed was smart for his age and Vin garnered a great respect for the kid's knowledge. He was also glad the boy wasn't into loud music, listening instead to the soft lyrics of New Country, in particular Chris's favorite singer Garth Brooks.

The sharpshooter watched as Larabee's eyes moved behind the closed lids. "Hey, Cowboy, welcome back."

Larabee forced his eyelids open, millimeter by millimeter until the other man stood as one solid form before him. He smiled weakly, "Vin," he groaned as the effort to speak caused the tightness in his throat to gain momentum, almost cutting off his air intake.

Tanner reached out and helped his friend sit up, rubbing his shoulders in an effort to ease the tightly strung muscles. "Easy, Chris, just breathe slowly."

"Am b...breathing s...slowly. What...did...M...Murphy do? F...feels like s...she l....left the d...damn knife i...in t...there."

"Ah, hell, Chris, don't talk. Ya sound like a sick heifer. Your throat's all swollen and that's why you got that nice collar around your neck. Want some water?"

"Y...yeah," the patient muttered. He pressed the button on his bed rail until he was sitting. His head spun and he closed his eyes until it righted itself.

"Here you go," Tanner placed the glass in front of his friend's mouth and waited for him to open up.

Larabee opened his eyes and mouth. The first taste of the cold water was heaven sent, by the time the second mouthful hit his abused throat the blond's eyes were wild with pain. He pulled away, coughing and gasping at the same time, tears formed in his eyes and he glared daggers as Carolyn Murphy entered the room.

"What happened?" she inquired of the longhaired man.

"I just gave him some water," Tanner answered worriedly as the blond continued to draw in ragged breaths.

"Ah," Murphy smiled at the young man before turning her attention to the handsome blond. "This will happen for a while, Mr. Larabee. You've got to try and drink everything you can and it'll get easier."

"S...sure it w...will," Larabee hissed sarcastically.

"I want to take a look at your throat."

"T...to t...take the d...damn k...knife out!"

Carolyn Murphy couldn't help but smile. She knew the man on the bed was in misery. His cheeks were a little flushed and she knew he was still running a fever. The nurse's notes on his chart said it hovered around one hundred and three. "I assure you, Mr. Larabee, I didn't leave a single instrument in your throat."

"A...are you s...sure," the blond returned the smile, pain evident in his dazed green eyes.

"Oh, shoot," she cried looking at her fingers. "I seem to be missing my ring."

Her laughter filtered through the patient's foggy mind and he couldn't stop a real smile from forming on his face. He knew he was being difficult, but he felt like shit. He was hot, yet he shivered under the blankets. "G...get out of h...here tomorrow?" he asked weakly.

"I don't think so. I'm ordering some blood work done."

"Blood work?"

"That's right. We need to find out what's causing your fever and nip it in the butt. Now open your mouth and let me have a look." She took the tiny light and shone it down his open mouth. She used a tongue depressor to force his mouth open further; frowning as she noted the swelling was still in evidence. Shaking her head she removed the tongue depressor and turned off the light. "Mr. Lar..."

"Doc, c...could you just call me Chris?"

"Chris," she smiled as she examined his elbow and shoulder. "Are you experiencing any joint or muscle pain?"

"Not really."

Her eyebrows shot up and a serious look came over her face. "What do you mean? Are you having pain?"

"Just the usual, Doc. Hate being c...cooped up in bed."

She nodded briefly, not at all sure the man was telling her the truth. "If you do get any pain tell the nurses immediately. I'm putting in an order for IV antibiotics starting immediately."

"Why?" Tanner asked before Larabee could voice the question.

"I think there's some infection in there. We'll know more when we get the results of the blood tests. I'll send one of the nurses in right away."

"C...can I get rid of this? D...damn uncomfortable to s...sleep with it a...around my n...neck. H...hate c...collars," the sick man explained.

"Not until the swelling goes down. Now, Chris, you make sure you drink as much as you can. I'll come by to see you in the morning."

"Bye, Doc." Tanner picked up the glass and held it to the blond. "Drink!" he ordered.

Larabee glared at the sharpshooter, his eyes warning the man he was walking on shaky ground. He sipped at the water, his body tensing for the agony he knew the liquid would ignite. He gasped as the fire ignited in his throat and the water did nothing to put out the flames. He pulled away from the glass and refused any more.

"You need to drink, Chris," the younger man insisted.

"She s...said to drink as much as I c...can. I just did!" he snapped impatiently.

The Texan placed the glass back on the nightstand as a red haired nurse entered the room. The woman was a veritable beauty and Vin wondered what Buck Wilmington would do if he was in the bed instead of Chris Larabee. He smiled at the thought of the ladies' man pulling the unsuspecting woman into the bed with him.

"Mr. Larabee, I need to take some blood," her soft lilting voice said.

Chris nodded and placed his arm in her hand. He felt her wrap a rubber tube around his arm just above the elbow. Her hand slapped at the elbow area until she found a vein. Slowly she inserted a needle and withdrew four vials of blood. He opened his eyes and watched her remove the needle and place a cotton ball over it. She applied pressure and taped it in place.

"I'll be right in with your meds. Do you want something for pain?"

"No," he lied.

"More water, Chris?"

"No thanks, Vin. Maybe later," he smiled as soft music emanated from the next bed. "Great taste in music," he muttered.

"What?" Tanner asked.

"The kid in the n...next bed has g...great taste in music," he frowned as a line from a rap song bounced inside his tired mind. 'This here's a family affair, the family is here. Everybody put your hands in the air.' "Shit," he swore.

"What's wrong, Chris?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"For some reason I keep hearing rap music," he hissed softly.

---

Jeremy smiled as he listened to the conversation in the next bed. It wasn't that he was a bad kid, but he did have a penchant for mischievousness. The older man seemed to be a perfect candidate for some pranks and teasing. He wouldn't do anything to harm his roommate, but he could and would show the man his other side, the one he seldom showed to others. He looked at the tape in his hands and smiled. There was nothing like a little rap music to set the mood.

---

"Rap music? Heck, Chris, all Jeremy plays is Garth Brooks. You should be glad you have a kindred spirit in the next bed. You want to meet him?"

"Maybe tomorrow, Vin, right now I just w...want to s...sleep. You might as well go home."

"Are you sure?"

"Y...yeah." Larabee yawned and moaned as the back of his throat caught fire again. "Dammit."

"Want anything before I go?"

"No," the blond answered.

"Alright, Cowboy, I'll see you in the morning."

"Bring me a change of clothes so I c...can get out of here."

"Sure," Tanner laughed. He walked around the curtain, bidding goodnight to the kid lying there.

Chris lay back against the pillow, regretting his denial of wanting something to ease the pain. He looked up as someone fiddled with the IV bags over his head. His eyes heavy with pain and the need for relief as he watched her attach a smaller bag to the regular IV.

"Mr. Larabee, would you like some water?"

"No thanks. I just had some," he answered.

"How much?" she asked.

"A glass," he lied smoothly.

"Excellent, Mr. Larabee. I'll refill this for you. Try and drink as much as you can."

"I will." He watched her fill the glass from the tap and return it to the nightstand. "Thanks." She took the collar from around his neck and replaced it with a new one. Chris hissed at the cold, uncomfortable feeling.

"I know it's uncomfortable, Mr. Larabee, but it has to be done. Your call button is beside your head. Just buzz if you need anything."

"Okay," he answered as she left. He let himself relax against the pillow and tried to ignore the raging inferno at the back of his throat. He was drifting towards sleep when the scratchy, out of tune voice from the other bed invaded his solitude. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sharp rap notes from his roommate. He hated rap music of any kind and the kid just seemed to thrive on the worst possible version. "Kid, can you tune it down a bit?" he groaned, his voice barely audible to his own ears. "K...Kid," he tried a little louder.

"What?"

"Can you tone it down just a little!" he snapped, not realizing how harsh his voice sounded.

"It's my room too, Mister. I'm allowed to listen to music."

"Sh... Shoot, that ain't music."

"Sure it is. It's the best kind. I got lots of it. Would you like me to come over so you can hear it better?"

"N... No! Don't do t...that. Just turn it down."

"Okay," Jeremy smiled as he put the earphones on. The music was cut off immediately.

Chris sighed and muttered thank you, only to sit up and groan as the kid's voice once more grated on his nerves. "K...kid?" No answer. "Kid!" he tried again, once more receiving no answer. His jagged nerves and impatience screamed at him to go over and make the kid stop the screeching noises, but he didn't have the energy. Instead he turned on his side, placed his pillow over his head and tried to sleep. The voice penetrated the pillow, but at least it was muffled. "Shit," he snapped, when the sounds grew louder and his head began to throb. He fought the pain in his head and throat for as long as he could before pressing the call button beside him.

"Can I help you?"

"Any way you can get this kid to stop singing the rap sh.... Stuff?"

"I'll be right in, Mr. Larabee."

"T...thanks," he grumbled tiredly.

---

Jeremy heard the nurse and his roommate's request and quickly changed the CD. Garth Brooks music played softly in his ears and he smiled as the nurse entered the room. "Hi."

"Jeremy, what are you listening too?" the nurse asked.

"Just some Garth Brooks, Katy."

"Garth Brooks? Not rap?"

"No, Ma'am, I don't like rap."

"I didn't think so. Can you keep it down and let him rest?"

"Sure," the kid said exuberantly.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"That's great, Jeremy. The doctor says we can take out your IV tomorrow and maybe send you home the day after."

"Really?"

"Hmm, hmm. Now I'm gonna check on Mr. Larabee. You just keep it down and let him rest, okay?"

"I will," he grinned as she walked around the drawn curtain. 'This is gonna be fun,' he thought.

---

Katy looked at the second patient, wondering why he covered his ears with a pillow. "Mr. Larabee," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Chris turned and faced her, a pained expression on his face. "Thanks," he mumbled, aware of the silence in the room.

"I'm sorry you don't like Garth Brooks, Mr. Larabee. I've asked Jeremy to keep it down."

"W...wasn't Garth Brooks. It w... was rap," Larabee mumbled.

"I assure you it's Garth Brooks. Would you like me to show you his CD?"

"Might be him now, but it w...wasn't earlier."

"Well, he's gonna keep it down so you can rest. Maybe when you've had some sleep you'll be in a better frame of mind."

"Look, my head hurts and my throat feels like sh... crap. Rap music is s...something I really don't want to hear anytime, let a...alone right now."

"I can bring you in something for the pain if you like."

"Maybe later." Chris watched as she lifted the glass on his nightstand. He saw the frown mar her pretty features and knew what she was going to say.

"You haven't touched this," Katy observed.

"Not thirsty."

"You need to start drinking, Mr. Larabee. Your throat's not gonna get any better unless you do. Why don't you try some now?"

"Later."

"Alright," Katy told the stubborn man. "Just remember we'll be making notes of everything you drink and that IV won't come out until we're satisfied with your intake."

"I'll drink it!" he snapped, his abused throat protesting the force he expelled with the words.

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Larabee."

"Look, I will. I just don't feel like anything, but sleep right now."

"Okay. Buzz me if you want anything."

"I will," he assured her as she turned out the light and he turned his attention to the darkening window beside his bed. Within minutes the strains of another rap song reached his ears and he pounded his fists into the pillow. Somehow he knew this was going to be the longest night of his life.

An hour later, having heard countless refrains of, 'H to the izz O, V to the izz A. Fo shizzle my nizzle used to dribble down in VA' and other rap songs, Chris Larabee was fit to be tied. He struggled up in the bed, despite the cumbersome collar around his neck and pressed the button to drop the side rail. He slipped his bare feet over the edge and grabbed unto the IV pole as the room spun madly. "Dammit," he hissed, hating the nauseating feeling the dizziness caused. He took the nasal canulas from around his head and dropped them on his pillow.

---

Jeremy listened to his roommate and knew he was getting out of bed. He turned off the music and closed his eyes, pretending he's been sleeping for some time. He heard the older man make his way around the curtain and stop by his bed. He fought to keep his breathing even and his eyes closed. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was all in fun.

---

Chris gazed at the sleeping boy. He looked almost angelic with his eyes closed and a wisp of blond hair curled down over his forehead. "Kid," he said softly.

Jeremy pretended not to hear.

"Come on, Kid, you can't be sleeping. I heard the damn stuff you were listening too. There's no reason to pretend. I can be reasonable. Just keep it turned down okay?" Larabee shook his head as no answer was forthcoming. He made his way back to his side of the curtain and crawled back into bed. A few minutes later he heard a soft voice talking to the kid in the next bed.

---

"Jeremy, you're supposed to be sleeping."

"I was, but Mr. Larabee woke me."

Chris couldn't believe what he was hearing. Anger got the better of him and he sat up. "What the hell are you talking about, Kid? You were awake and listening to that crap you kids call music."

"Mr. Larabee!" Katy came around the curtain, her eyes doing their own imitation of a glare. "Jeremy doesn't listen to rap music. He's been listening to Garth Brooks or other country singers."

"Look..."

"No, you look. This is your first day in here and already you think you rule the place. This is a children's ward and the way you're acting they put you in the right place," she came around the side of his bed and checked the water glass again.

Larabee glared at her, anger and frustration in his eyes. "Look," he repeated. "I don't care what you think..." he coughed and groaned before he could finish.

Katy's anger at the patient eased as she saw his distress. "Easy, Mr. Larabee," she soothed.

Larabee tried to catch his breath, sighing as he finally succeeded. "Sorry," he apologized for snapping at her. "I know what I h...heard and it w...was rap."

"I believe you think you heard rap, Mr. Larabee. It's probably just the after effects of the anesthetic. I'm going to do your vitals and see if we can't get you settled down for the night." Katy took his blood pressure, noting the results on her paper. She used the digital ear thermometer and frowned at the reading she got. The results of his oxygen intake was also low and she replaced the nasal canulas. "Keep those on," she ordered. "Now, are you ready to drink some water?"

"No thanks," he mumbled tiredly.

"Mr. Larabee..."

"I know. The IV stays put until I start to drink. It's just not something I want right now."

"Do you want something for pain?"

He thought about saying no and realized his throat was just getting worse. Nodding slightly he answered. "Anything to make this ease up," he answered.

"I'll be right back."

Chris watched her leave and lifted his head. "Kid, I don't know who put you up to this, but you tell whoever it is they're gonna pay," he promised.

---

Jeremy smiled, knowing he was behind the mischievous plans for the man in the next bed. 'Oh, Mr. Larabee, if you only knew,' he laughed and turned on his side, letting sleep overtake him for real this time.

---

Katy walked back into the room, smiled at the sleeping boy, before walking behind the closed curtain. "I have your medication, Mr. Larabee," she explained as she flipped the top off the syringe and injected it into the IV line.

"Thanks," Chris mumbled tiredly.

"You're welcome. Are you ready to try some water?"

"Later," he assured her as he snuggled under the thin sheet.

"Sleep well. Buzz if you need anything."

"A blanket. It's cold in here," he told her.

"You feel cold because you're running a fever. Just try to sleep, okay?"

"I will as long as there's no more of that music."

Katy laughed, "there won't be," she assured him, turning out the lights as she left the room.

Chris sighed as sleep finally overtook him. 'No music, no irritating kid,' was his last thought.

---

Chris woke up early, and slid from the bed. Nature called and he knew he had to hurry. He removed the oxygen and slowly dropped his feet to the floor. The cup beside his bed was still full and he picked it up. He tentatively placed the glass next to his lips and let a small amount enter his mouth. Sighing as it went down easily. The second sip caused him to gag and moan as the fire reawakened. "Dammit," he swore. Taking the glass with him he slowly made his way to the washroom, oblivious of the fact that his gown came partially open, showing the clean white Calvin Klein's.

---

Jeremy heard his roommate swear and smiled as he watched the man make his way to the bathroom, the cup in his hand. He kept his eyes closed and waited for the man to make it into the washroom. He felt sorry for the things he'd done the night before, but was not ready to give up. There were just too many ways to irritate the man without hurting him.

---

Chris finished what he needed to do and dumped most of the water down the sink. 'What they don't know won't hurt them,' he thought. He slowly made his way back to bed unaware of the eyes watching him.

---

Jeremy knew the glass was empty by the way the man held it. If there'd been any water inside it would have spilled out at the angle it was held. A plan formed in his mind and a smile broadened on his face. The smile did not bode well for his roommate.

---

Chris made it back to his bed, placed the glass on the table and let his aching body drop onto the uncomfortable mattress. He pulled the blankets back over himself and closed his eyes. Sleep soon wrapped him in a warm blanket and his pained features relaxed.

An hour later the day nurse stepped into the room. She checked on the youngest patient, smiling as he muttered good morning. She took his vitals, pleased to see there was no fever or other problems. The doctors were releasing him the next morning as long as there were no complications.

She looked at the chart on her next patient, frowning at the notation the night nurse made. The man had surgery to remove his tonsils and was running a fever, not drinking, and complaining about hearing rap music. She noted he continually refused pain medication, accepting it only once during the night. 'Well, Mr. Larabee, we'll see who can be the most stubborn, won't we,' she thought as she pulled back the curtain. She placed her hand on the man's shoulder and gently prodded. "Good morning, Mr. Larabee, My name is Sylvie and I need to take your vitals."

Chris forced his eyes open, a weak smile forming on his flushed features. "M...morning," his green eyes widened as the softly spoken word tortured the back of his throat. He pressed the button on the side of his bed and was soon in a semi reclining position. He felt the thermometer placed in his ear. Next came the BP cuff and he relaxed against the pillow until she was done.

"You're still running a temperature, Mr. Larabee. How does your throat feel."

He fought the urge to swallow, knowing it would only cause more pain. "Feels like someone's sticking hot needles in it."

"I bet," she smiled in spite of herself. This man was a handsome one and she had little doubt he knew how to use his looks to melt the coldest hearts. "Would you like some water?"

"No thanks," he answered, his eyes closing once more.

"You need to start drinking, Mr. Larabee."

"I did," he lied as she picked up the glass. 'Not really a lie,' he thought. 'I did drink a little of it.'

Sylvie smiled as she lifted the nearly empty glass. "Did you drink all of this?"

Larabee didn't answer, just let his eyes slide closed.

"Well that's great," she said. She took the glass into the washroom and refilled it. "Mr. Larabee..."

"Chris."

"Chris, I've refilled your glass. Make sure you keep drinking it."

"I will."

"I'll get the antibiotics your doctor ordered. Would you like something for the pain?"

His throat was getting worse and he knew it was useless to deny the need for pain medication. "Please," he answered.

"I'll be right back."

Chris lay on his back, breathing the oxygen into his lungs. He wondered why such a simple operation was causing him more misery than all the bullet wounds combined. Once more he heard rap music coming from the bed on the opposite side of the curtain. The sound shrill to his ears and he knew he would have to suffer it. The nurses didn't believe him. For some reason they only heard Garth Brooks or some other Country singer. The music stopped abruptly and a few seconds later Sylvie was back beside his bed. She slipped a syringe into his IV, smiling at his mumbled thanks. Next she set up the antibiotics and replaced the nearly empty bag of IV fluids.

"Dr. Murphy is on her way. She just stopped by the desk to check the results of your blood work."

"Okay." He settled down in the bed to wait for the specialist to come in. It wasn't long before he heard the familiar voice of the surgeon.

"Good morning, Chris."

"Morning, Doc," he rasped, the discomfort in his throat obvious. "So when do I get out of here?"

Carolyn Murphy couldn't help but smile at the feverish man. "Not yet I'm afraid."

"Ah, hell, Doc, you said this was day surgery and it's already been longer than that. I can rest at home."

"I know you can. The problem is we can't let you go until we find out the cause of the fever. So far the blood work is inconclusive. I've ordered the tests repeated today. I've started you on a new course of antibiotics and I'm also going to do a throat swab."

"Shi... Shoot, Doc. I need to get out of here."

"If the tests come back negative we'll let you go tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

"That's right, tomorrow and only if you're drinking like you should."

Sylvie smiled at the man in the bed. "He drank quite a bit of water earlier."

Larabee turned away, unable to meet the nurse's eyes, knowing he'd duped her.

"Sylvie, can you bring me a throat swab kit, please?"

"Yes, Doctor," Sylvie answered. She heard the doctor explaining to her patient how important it was for him to let them finish their tests. She stepped behind the curtain and stopped as Jeremy called her over. "What's wrong, Jeremy? Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "Is Mr. Larabee okay?"

"He's gonna be fine. Why do you ask?"

Jeremy turned away from the nurse, hiding the small smile building in his eyes. "'Cause I heard you tell him he had to drink."

"That's right. He needs to drink to help his throat heal," she smiled at her patient, wondering why he was so interested in the man in the other bed.

"I... I don't w...want to be a blabbermouth..."

"Jeremy, what are you trying to tell me?" Sylvie asked when he stopped talking.

"H...he lied to y...you."

Sylvie's eyebrows rose as she listened to the boy tell her how he was awake when the other patient went into the washroom and poured the water down the drain. "Thank you, Jeremy. I've got to get something for Dr. Murphy. You just lie back and they'll bring your breakfast for you."

"I will, Sylvie. I'm sorry I..."

"Don't be sorry you told me, Jeremy. It's important we know what our patients are doing."

"Yes, Ma'am," he kept the frown on his face until she turned away, replacing it with the mischievous smile once more. 'This is gonna be fun,' he thought.

Sylvie hurried to the nursing station and returned to the room with the kit. She smiled at the boy in the first bed before parting the curtain and stepping behind it to the second patient. "Here you go, Dr. Murphy."

"Thank you, Sylvie," she said as she tore open the sealed package. "All right, Chris, open up."

Larabee opened his mouth and groaned as the swab touched the back of his raw throat. He gagged as the doctor did the swab, glaring at the doctor as she pulled it out and placed it in the sterile container.

"Send this to the lab," Murphy said as she wrote his name on the package.

"Dr. Murphy," Sylvie began as she took the completed swab kit.

"What's wrong, Sylvie?"

"Chris hasn't exactly been honest with us."

Larabee glared at her as she picked up the glass from the table.

"What do you mean?" Murphy asked curiously.

"You didn't drink this did you, Chris?"

Larabee knew he was caught and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He knew instinctively the kid in the next bed ratted on him. He sighed heavily and smiled at the nurse. "I didn't actually say I drank it," he told them.

Sylvie ignored the devastating smile on the handsome face. "I asked you straight out if you drank this..."

"Did I tell you I did?" Larabee argued.

"Enough!" Murphy interrupted. She looked at her wilful patient, her voice filled with authority as she spoke. "Chris, how much have you actually drank today?"

"Some," he answered vaguely.

"How much?" Murphy folded her arms across her chest and let her stern gaze match Larabee's angered one.

"A couple of sips," the blond answered.

"How big were the sips?"

"Oh, hell, Doc, what is this twenty questions?"

"How big?" the doctor asked once more.

"Big enough."

"Chris, stop acting like a child and tell me exactly how much you've had to drink."

"I'm not acting like a child!"

"Oh yes you are," Sylvie interrupted.

"Look, just get this damn thing out of my arm and let me get out of here!" he shouted, regretting the move immediately as the back of his throat burned with newfound fire. "Shit!" he cried out as his stomach churned and he turned to grab the small basin, only to find it already in front of him. He expelled whatever was left in his stomach, aware of the agony it was causing to his throat. The nausea finally subsided and he fell back against the bed, his face pale, his breathing labored.

"How many times has this happened, Chris?" Murphy asked.

"First time," he answered.

"Sylvie, I want him monitored. Make sure you note on his chart if it continues."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Now back to the question. How much water have you been drinking, Chris?"

"Look, Doc, right now my throat feels like someone's stabbing me with hot little needles..."

"How much?"

Larabee knew it was a lost cause. The formidable doctor wanted an answer and she was willing to badger him until she got it. "Two small sips," he answered honestly.

"That's not enough. Here," she held out the glass of water and waited for the stubborn man to take it.

"Not right now, Doc."

"Chris!"

"Shit!"

"Watch your language, Chris, there's a young boy in the next bed!" Sylvie exclaimed.

"A young brat you mean," Larabee glared at the nurse angrily.

"Chris, that young man feels really bad about telling me what he saw. You should be grateful he told me the truth. I would've recommended they remove the IV since you were drinking..."

"Sh...Crap!" Larabee hissed.

"But, since you're not we'll be leaving it in place until you're drinking the required amount of liquid on a regular basis. Are you ready to try some more?"

Larabee took the glass and put it to his mouth. He let a small amount of the liquid flow past his lips. He held the water in his mouth for a few seconds, cringing at the thought of swallowing the simple drink. He finally let the water slide down and hissed at the pain it caused. His breath caught in his lungs as the tortured flesh at the back of his throat erupted in white-hot fire. He replaced the glass on the table and closed his eyes. He knew he needed to drink, but right now there was no way he was letting anything else get past his lips.

"Chris," Murphy spoke softly. She sympathized with the blond, knowing how hard this was on an adult.

"Not now, Doc," he hissed.

"Sylvie, keep an eye on his intake. Make sure you note everything on his chart."

"Yes, Doctor," Sylvie answered.

"I'll come back and see you later today, Chris. Get some rest," Murphy ordered as she left the room.

Larabee let his eyes close, waiting for the pain to lessen. The back of his mouth was raw and he had problems forcing air into his lungs let alone drinking anything. He briefly wondered why the swelling wasn't going down with the ice pack around his neck. He felt Sylvie's light touch on his arm and opened his eyes. The nurse tried to look stern , but he could read the underlying sympathy in her eyes as she pulled the thin blanket over his shivering body. "Thanks," he mumbled sleepily.

"It'll get better, Chris," she promised.

"I k...know," he told her, letting sleep take him away once more.

Sylvie checked the flow on the IV and antibiotics, assured that everything was running smoothly she pushed the curtain back slightly and smiled at the boy in the next bed. "Thank you, Jeremy."

Jeremy smiled innocently as he looked at the nurse. "He's mad at me."

She smiled as she watched a young volunteer bring in the boy's breakfast tray. "No he's not, Jeremy. He's just not feeling well right now. As soon as he does start feeling better he'll realize what you did was a good thing. Now eat your breakfast."

"I will," Jeremy smiled as he picked up his CD player and placed the Garth Brooks CD inside. The young volunteer brought in the tray of fluids for the second patient and left in a hurry.

Sylvie watched him pick up a CD before she left the room.

Jeremy smiled as he exchanged the CD in the player. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he was bored and the man only had his tonsils out. 'It's not as if he's really sick,' the boy thought.

Chris was lightly dozing when strains of new music reached his ears. He groaned as he realized the kid was playing the infernal rap songs only he seemed to hear. He pressed the button on the side of his bed until he was sitting up once more. "Look, Kid, can you turn that stuff off?"

Jeremy pretended not to hear as he ate his breakfast. He wasn't keen on rap music himself, but he knew how much it irritated his roommate. He slowly turned the volume up, a grin on his face as he munched on the whole-wheat toast.

The music went on, grating on his tense nerves, driving daggers into his throbbing skull. There was no way he would hurt a boy, yet he couldn't handle listening to the racket anymore. He slid his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, pulling off the nasal canulas as he did.

Jeremy heard the man climb out of his bed and briefly wondered if he'd gone too far. He slipped the CD out and hid it under his blanket just as the pale man came from behind the curtain.

"I don't know who's paying you to do this, Kid, but I'll double whatever it is just to get you to stop."

"Do what?" Jeremy asked in an innocent voice.

"Play that sh... crap you kids call music."

"I thought all adults liked Garth Brooks."

"That wasn't Garth Brooks..."

"Sure it was. See," he lifted the CD from his bed and showed it to his roommate.

"Look, Kid, you and I both know it wasn't Garth. So cut the crap."

"I...I'm sorry you don't like Garth."

"Oh, hell," Larabee hissed and made his way to the door. He swayed as a new round of dizziness assaulted him, but wouldn't let it stop him. He walked through the open door, surprised at the empty corridor and walked to the end of the hallway. He found an empty lounge and went in to sit down, letting the door close behind him. He was cold, but at least it was quiet in the room. Five minutes later he was stretched out across the lounge chairs, his legs drawn up, his eyes closed in sleep.

---

Vin, Buck, and Josiah entered the double room and smiled at the boy sitting in the chair by the bed. They headed for the cordoned off area only to pull up short as the boy spoke to them.

"He's not there," Jeremy informed them.

"Do you know where he is, Jeremy?" Wilmington asked.

"He left about an hour ago."

"What do you mean left?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"He didn't like listening to Garth Brooks so he went for a walk."

"Damn," the ladies' man swore. "I think we need to organize a search party."

"I'll check at the desk. You guys start checking the lounges," Sanchez ordered.

"Alright, Josiah. Jeremy, buzz the nurses station if he comes back," Tanner explained.

"Yes, sir," Jeremy assured them.

---

Chris opened his eyes and shivered against the cold. The short hospital gowns he wore did little to keep him warm. He knew it was the fever but he wasn't ready to go back and face the kid's music just yet. He sat up and forced back the nausea again. He spotted the second door and barely made out the words public washroom. He stood on shaky legs and stumbled the short distance to the door, leaning heavily on the IV pole. He pulled open the door and moved inside just as his stomach gave up the small amount of water he'd managed to get down. He locked the door and leaned over the porcelain sink, holding tightly to his spinning head. A buzzing sounded in his ears and he realized he wouldn't be able to make it back to his room under his own steam. He rested his eyes hoping the spiraling room would quiet and he would be able to make it back to the couch. Every breath he took started a fiery agony in the back of his throat and he knew there was something seriously wrong.

---

Sanchez stood at the desk waiting for the young nurse to finish her call. He sighed as he watched Wilmington and Tanner searching for their missing friend.

"Can I help you?"

Josiah shook himself and turned back to the nurse. "We're looking for a friend..."

"Is he a patient here?"

"Yes, he's in..."

"What's his name?"

The ex-preacher was getting impatient with the nurse's interruptions. "His name's Chris Larabee and..."

"He's in..."

"I know what room he's in, Doreen," he said, reading the nametag on her uniform. "The problem is he isn't there."

"What do you mean he isn't there?"

"I mean he's gone. Jeremy says he left over an hour ago."

"Are you sure he's not in his room?" Doreen asked, standing up and walking from behind the desk.

"Yes, Ma'am. We went to see him, but he's not in his room."

"Have you checked the lounges. Oh wait a minute," she said as Sylvie walked off the elevator. "That's his nurse. Why don't we check with her? Sylvie can you come here for a minute?"

---

Buck checked the rooms as he walked to the end of the corridor. A large window graced the wall in front of him, a utility closet on one side, and a patient lounge on the other. He opened the door to the lounge and stepped inside. The tiny room was empty and he shook his head. A closed door stood at the end, a small sign hung on it stating it was a public washroom, a piece of paper was taped under it stating it was out of order. He sighed and reached for the handle, not surprised to find it locked. Maintenance would've locked it up in order to keep people out until they repaired it.

He turned away from the door and headed back down to the nurses station.

---

Vin checked the lounge at his end of the corridor, finding it just as empty as the one Buck was searching moments before. He stepped inside and looked around the deserted room. It was an exact copy of its twin at the opposite end and Vin headed for the public washroom. He tried the handle and found it locked. "Chris, are you in there?" he waited a few seconds and tried again. Still receiving no answer he turned back to the door leading into the corridor. As he opened the heavy fire door a sound from the washroom caught his attention.

---

Sylvie stepped up to the desk and smiled at the man standing there before turning to the nurse. "What is it, Doreen?"

"The problem patient you told me about is missing?"

"Problem patient?" Josiah asked.

"You mean Chris?" Sylvie asked.

"That's the one. He's not in his room. Your other patient said he left over an hour ago."

"Shit, I knew I should've tied him down," she hissed and apologized to the man standing beside her. "Have you searched for him?" she asked Doreen.

"I only just found out. This gentleman told me."

"Josiah Sanchez, Ma'am. I'm a friend of Chris's."

"Doreen, we better search for him."

"Should I call security?"

"You said he's been missing for over an hour?"

"That's right, Sylvie."

"Call security. It wouldn't surprise me if he's left the hospital."

"Nothing in that lounge, Josiah." Wilmington rejoined his friend at the desk as Doreen finished placing the call for security. "Vin back yet?"

"No, he went to check the other lounge," Sanchez informed him.

"Maybe we'd better see what's taking him so long,' Wilmington suggested and the two men headed for the second lounge.

---

"Oh, Hell," the sick man hissed as his shaky legs gave out and he slid to the clean floor. He lifted his head as a sound from outside the door reached his ears. He heard a muffled voice and tried to answer, but his abused throat wouldn't allow the sound to pass his lips.

---

"Chris," Tanner tried as he reached for the door handle once more. Are you in there?" A dull sound escaped the thick barrier and he rattled the handle back and forth. "Come on, Cowboy, open the door!" he called worriedly. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the handle move in his hand. The door opened and he smiled at the sheepish face staring up at him from the floor. "Hell, Chris, what're you doing in here?"

"C...couldn't handle no m...more of t...that d...damn shizzle my nizzle," Larabee rasped.

"Shizzle what?" Tanner asked with a grin.

"K...kid's p...playing rap m...music, Vin. H...hate that s...shit. D...did you p...put him up to i...it."

"I w...wouldn't do that to you, Chris. At least not while you're in here. Come on, let's get you back to your room."

"In a minute," Larabee hissed.

"What's wrong?" the sharpshooter asked worriedly.

"Just a little dizzy. My head's killing me and m...my throat's full of lava."

"You do sound sick, Chris."

"Vin, did you find him?" Wilmington called.

Tanner looked up as the ladies' man and the ex-preacher rushed into the room. "Yeah, he's in here. He's not looking too good right now. I think maybe you better get a nurse and a wheelchair."

Larabee shot a warning glance at his friend and mumbled. "I can walk, V...Vin."

"I don't think so, Chris. You're about as white as a ghost."

"Shit, Vin."

"No shit, Chris. You'll get in the chair or I'll..."

"Y...you'll what?" Larabee interrupted.

"That glare's lacking strength, Larabee," the sharpshooter grinned.

"You might as well give in, Chris. Buck's on his way with a wheelchair and a couple of security guards," Sanchez explained.

"Security guards? Why t...the h...hell are they here?"

"The nurse called them. You were missing and they were about to start searching for you."

"Chris, are you alright?" Sylvie asked her pale patient as Tanner moved out of the way and she knelt beside him.

"F...fine," he rasped.

"Why are you here?"

"Came in the l...lounge to get s...some sleep."

"Why didn't you rest in your own bed."

"He said something about not wanting to hear anymore shizzle my nizzle," Tanner explained.

Sylvie frowned at the longhaired man and shook her head as she touched Larabee's forehead. She noted the intense shivering the moment she'd walked into the room and knew her patient still had a fever. "You can tell me about that later. Chris, let me help you up," she grasped his arm and helped him to his feet.

Larabee gritted his teeth and held tightly to the sink as he climbed to his feet. His head pounded and he didn't argue as they helped him into the chair.

Sylvie took the handles and smiled as Sanchez reached out to grasp the IV pole. The group headed out the door and down the corridor. She pushed him into his room and smiled at the young boy.

Chris opened his eyes as she pushed his chair up to his bed. He stood on shaky legs, smiling as two sets of hands reached out to steady him. "I'm okay," he assured them as he sank onto the mattress. Truth was he felt lousy, his head and throat hurt, he was having trouble forcing air into his lungs, and he was dog tired. He lifted his legs onto the bed and reached for his blanket, only to find the nurse already covering him with them. "Thanks," he smiled at her.

"Are you going to try to drink some of this, Chris?" she asked as she took his vitals. Shaking her head she reached for the discarded nasal canulas and replaced them on her reluctant patient.

"I feel like sh... crap," he amended. "I just don't think I can stomach anything right now," Larabee answered tiredly. He felt something pressed into his ear and knew she was taking his temperature.

"Chris, I'm going to get your antibiotics. Would you like me to give you a shot for the pain as well?"

"Right now that sounds like a good plan," he answered, groaning softly at the effort it took to force the words out.

"I'll be right back," Sylvie told him.

"You're not looking too healthy right now, Pard," Wilmington observed.

"Honestly, Buck, right now I don't care how I look," Larabee mumbled, shivering in spite of the blankets.

"Oh, shit, you really don't feel good," the ladies' man exclaimed.

"I'd feel a hell of a lot better if someone would take that kid's music away from him," Larabee placed his hand over his eyes, blocking out the light.

"But, Chris, the kid's playing one of your favorite singers," Sanchez observed as strains of The River reached his ears.

The blond grimaced as he looked at his three friends and rasped painfully. "Yeah, he plays it until you guys leave. I want to know who put him up to it. Was it you, Buck?"

"Not me, Chris. Hey, maybe it's the medication they're giving you. Maybe it's causing you to hear things. You know an hallucination."

"Sure, Buck."

The three men smiled as Sylvie came back into the room. "I've got your meds, Chris," she explained as she hooked up the bag of antibiotics.

Chris watched as she used an alcohol swab to clean one of the junctures on his IV. The syringe slid into the small area and she injected the drug. He knew it wouldn't be long before the fire at the back of his throat dwindled to a more bearable level. He let his eyes close and relaxed against the pillows.

"That'll help, Chris," Sylvie assured him.

"Thanks. S...sorry," he apologized weakly.

"Sorry for what?" the nurse asked.

"Being so much trouble," Larabee answered tiredly.

Sylvie smiled at the pale, handsome face and patted his shoulder. "You're not as much trouble as you think, Chris. Now you just stay in that bed and get some sleep. Have you drank anything?"

"No."

"Chris..."

"Look, Sylvie, right now I don't think it's a good idea. It just won't go down right," he explained.

"Because it hurts?" she asked.

"That and because it feels like there's no room to get anything down back there."

"The back of your throat is swollen. That's why you have the ice pack around your neck. Dr. Murphy should be in shortly and I'll mention it to her."

"Okay," he answered feebly.

"Buzz if you need anything, Chris."

"I will."

Sanchez followed the nurse out the door and up to the desk. "Sylvie, can you tell me what's going on?"

"What would you like to know?" she asked.

"What's going on with Chris? Why is he having so much trouble drinking?"

"This surgery is a lot harder on an adult than a child, Mr. Sanchez. Sometimes in an adult complications arise more often than they do in a children. Chris's throat is quite swollen and raw, making swallowing very painful. He's running a temperature. Dr. Murphy did a throat swab this morning and she'll be in to see him shortly. He needs to rest and sleep, but more importantly he needs to get to the point where he's taking in liquids."

"Could the drugs you're giving him cause hallucinations?"

Sylvie frowned at the man standing before her. "No, Mr. Sanchez, I wouldn't think so. Why do you ask?"

"He keeps saying he hears rap music."

"I know. He says Jeremy is playing it, but all he ever plays is new country."

"Chris is not one to say it if it isn't true. Could Jeremy be playing pranks?"

"Jeremy's a good boy, Mr. Sanchez. If it wasn't for him we'd have taken the IV out and Chris would get a whole lot worse real fast because of dehydration. He told us he was drinking when he wasn't. Jeremy saw him drain the water down the sink. No, Jeremy is a good boy and I don't believe for a minute he's doing things to make his room mate miserable."

"He's a boy, Sylvie. I'm sure you know how young boys love to be mischievous."

"Yes, Mr. Sanchez, I do, but Jeremy is not like that. I have to check on my other patients. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Sylvie, I didn't mean to upset you. Look, just keep an ear out, please."

"I will," Sylvie assured him, wondering if she could possibly be wrong about the young boy.

The ex-preacher turned back to the room and stepped inside. He smiled at the patient in the first bed before moving behind the drawn curtain.

Larabee glanced from one man to another and spoke softly. "You guys don't need to spend your lunch hour with me. Get out of here."

"That's gratitude, Stud. We come to visit and you tell us we're not wanted," Wilmington stated, a smile on his face.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it, Buck, but right now I'm not very good company and no I'm not feeling sorry for myself," he assure them. "I'm just tired and I'll probably just go to sleep till Murphy gets here."

"Are you sure, Brother?"

Larabee smiled thinly as he nodded, his eyes closed and he spoke softly. "Just as long as I can ignore the music from the kid I'll do just fine."

"I'll ask him not to play it, Chris."

"No, Vin, its okay. The kid has a right to listen to whatever he wants. It's not his fault I hate the crap."

"Alright, Cowboy, get some sleep," Tanner told him.

"I plan on," Larabee assured them as they left. He turned on his side and a heavy sigh passed his lips as he waited for the inevitable rap fest to begin. He drifted towards sleep wondering why the kid wasn't playing his music. 'Silence is golden,' he thought with a smile, only to frown as he silently asked. 'What are you up too?'

---

Jeremy couldn't believe what he heard. He'd been enjoying himself so much with his little pranks and hadn't realized the man in the other bed could have feelings. 'The kid has a right to listen to whatever he wants.' Those words reverberated in his mind as the three men left the room. He reached under the mattress and pulled out the rap CD. He debated about playing it and finally placed it back where he found it. He chewed his lip and wondered why he felt so guilty. He forced the guilt aside and smiled. 'Its all in fun,' he thought.

---

His head pounded as he was drawn from the deep comforts of the dreams he'd been languishing in. He hated waking from the sweet dreams he had of Sarah and Adam. It always brought reality crashing down on him. They were gone from his life, but he thanked God they weren't gone from his dreams. He slowly forced tired eyes open and smiled at the doctor standing beside the bed. "Doc."

"How are you feeling, Chris?" Murphy asked.

"Tired," he answered.

"Hmm, hmm, that's to be expected. How's the throat feeling?"

"Not too good right now, Doc."

"I'm going to take a look and see if we can't find out what the problem is."

"I thought that's what the swab and other tests were for."

"Well, they were. The results of the throat swab are not back yet, but I have a sneaking suspicion of what's causing your problems."

"What?" he asked hopefully.

"Let me take a look first," Murphy told him. She took a tongue depressor and a light and told him to open up. She finished moving the tongue depressor around and removed it. She knew how uncomfortable the maneuver was but she needed to check as far back as she could. "All done, Chris," she assured the pale figure.

"W...what did you see?" he rasped.

"Your throat's still pretty swollen and raw looking. This is normal after surgery, but I'm afraid yours is a bit more pronounced. We need to find the cause and treat it. I'm adding a second antibiotic to see if we can figure out the best course of treatment."

"When can I get out of here?" he asked, knowing the answer, but asking it anyway.

"Not until we find the cause of the fever and you're drinking properly."

"I'll drink at home."

Murphy laughed as she looked into her patient's green eyes. "Sure you will. No dice, Chris. You start drinking here then maybe you'll get rid of the IV."

"Doc!" Larabee's face curved into a grimace as the word erupted from his ravaged throat.

"Chris, I'm trying to be patient..."

"No, Doc, I'm the patient," Larabee hissed. "I'll drink later."

"That's fine, Chris, but until you do and I'm not talking little sips here. I'm talking a full blown glass full, the IV stays put just to take care of your fluid intake for you."

"Doc!" he tried to raise his voice as he sat up in the bed and let his legs dangle over the side.

"Don't you doc me! I've read your files. I've talked to Dr. Midland and let me tell you something Chris Larabee. I've seen small children act better than you. As of now you're down as a non compliant patient and the nurses will have orders to make sure you do as you're told!"

"They'll try!" Larabee glared, his voice lacking the conviction it usually had.

"That's where you're wrong. Nurses can be very, very convincing when they have to be."

"A threat?" Larabee asked.

"No, a fact, Chris. Look, it's for your own good. We need to get you taking in fluids so that we can get you well and release you."

"Fine!" Larabee snarled as he grabbed the ice water from the table. Anger and frustration got the best of him as he swallowed half the contents before his throat constricted painfully and no air got past. He set the glass back on the table as he tried to fight off the waves of dizziness and pain. He felt the doctor's hand on his back, but couldn't hear what she was saying. The pain seemed to grow worse with each breath he fought to drag in. It felt as if his throat was closed to everything including the air he needed. "S...s...shit," he gasped as he finally caught his breath.

"Easy, Chris."

"Y...you t...think so," Larabee asked sarcastically.

"Tell me what happened?"

"The back of m...my t...throat s...seemed to c...close over."

"Any pain?"

"Oh, j...just a l...little," he snapped impatiently.

"Chris, have you had any muscle or joint pain?"

"You asked me that once b...before, Doc. The answer is still..." he didn't finish. He barely had time to grab the basin as the water he managed to get down flew from his throat. "Still no," he hissed as his stomach stopped churning. His throat was on fire once again as he lay back on the bed.

Murphy watched her patient for a few minutes, the silence marred only by the muffled sounds emanating from the sick man. She knew something was going on besides the tonsillectomy and she'd have to get to the bottom of it before Larabee could heal. "Chris, I'm gonna have Sylvie come in and give you something for the pain."

"It's okay, Doc, it'll ease up," he whispered softly.

"Alright, Chris, but you let her know when you need something."

"I will."

"You still need to drink."

"Remind me later," Larabee mumbled as he waited for his abused throat to stop burning. He groaned as the strains of music from the next bed reached his ears. "Damn, Kid, not again," he thought, placing his pillow over his head in an effort to drown out the irritating lyrics.

---

Jeremy played the CD and sang along with the lyrics.

"I was gonna clean my room until I got high
I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high
My room is still messed up and I know why
-cause I got high."

He didn't really like this type of music, but he knew it aggravated most adults. His parents didn't even know he owed the CD. He shut the music off as footsteps sounded outside his door. He smiled as his parents came into the room. "Hi, Mom, Dad."

"Hi, Jeremy. We just talked to your Doctor and he says you can come home tomorrow," Mrs. Talbot smiled at her son.

"That's great, Mom."

"What are you listening to, Son?" Mr. Talbot asked.

"The usual. New Country, Garth Brooks."

"Rap music," came a raspy voice from behind the curtain.

Mrs. Talbot frowned at the sound and spoke to the unseen patient. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"He's listening to rap music," Larabee repeated.

"I'll have you know my son doesn't listen to that stuff," Mrs. Talbot snapped indignantly.

"I'll have you know he does, but only when it's just the two of us here. Maybe you should teach him that silence is golden," the disembodied voice repeated.

Mrs Talbot stood up and walked behind the curtain as she snapped. "I don't care what you say," she frowned as she looked at the blond patient. "What are you doing here anyway? This is a children's ward."

"I assure you, Ma'am, I'd rather not be here. Look, just ask your son not to play that stuff or at least not play it loud. Okay?" he asked, keeping his voice reasonable in hopes the woman would do as he asked.

"My son is not..."

"Alright...L...look..." he groaned and grew quiet as his throat burned once more.

Mrs. Talbot hated seeing anyone in pain. She looked at the man in the bed and pity lined her face. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I...I'm f...fine," he said and turned away. He finally pressed the button and waited for the nurse to answer.

It wasn't long before Sylvie showed up with the requested medication. "Don't wait so long next time, Chris."

Larabee smiled as he answered. "I..."

"Don't say it," Sylvie laughed. "I know you'll wait till it gets to the point where there's nothing else you can do. Now how about some water?"

"No, thanks," he answered as he let his eyes close. He knew there'd be no music from the next bed, not with the kid's parents there. A small smile touched his pale face and he let the pain medication lull him off to sleep.

---

Vin looked at the kid sleeping in the bed as he slipped past the curtain. He watched the sleeping form in the second bed for a few minutes, worry evident on his face. He'd seen Chris through many vicious injuries but nothing seemed to have brought his friend down so fast or so hard. 'How can such a simple thing do this to you, Cowboy?' he thought as he moved to the chair by the bed. He sat and watched the pale face as oxygen continued to be fed through the nasal canulas. The fine sheen of sweat and the patch of pink on the cheeks hinted that Larabee still suffered from a fever. It was a little after seven at night and he knew the others would be here shortly and decided to leave Chris sleeping until they got there.

His mind turned to the mystery of the music and he decided not to let the kid in the next bed know he was there. He relaxed his body in the chair and continued to watch his friend for signs of waking. He kept glancing at his watch and the minutes seemed to crawl by. He'd been sitting quietly for nearly fifteen minutes when he heard movement from the other side of the curtain. He sat still, not wanting the kid to know he was there. He held his breath as he watched the silhouette through the curtain. He listened as he heard the telltale signs of a CD being placed in a player and waited for the strains of music to float across the small barrier.

As the kid's squawky voice sang along with the obnoxious lyrics Larabee's eyes opened. "Jesus, Kid, are you trying to drive me nuts?" he grated out through the tiny opening at the back of his throat.

"Hey, Mister, I got rights too, you know? I can play what I want and sing what I want! Fo shizzle my nizzle used to dribble down in VA!"

The sharpshooter heard the music and stood up. He walked to the bed and spoke softly to Chris. "Hey, Cowboy, I hear him."

The blond tried to see the man standing beside him. Finally the fever bright eyes focused on his friend and he smiled weakly. "Y...you hear him?"

Tanner hated the painful sounds emanating from the other man's mouth. He knew if Larabee felt half as bad as he looked and sounded the man really was sicker than any of them realized. "I hear him, let me handle him."

"Th...thanks V...Vin, thought I was h...hearing things," he said as the kid's voice grated on his nerves.

Jeremy continued to sing along with the rapper as he watched the shadow move behind the curtain. He knew the man was coming towards him and he grinned mischievously. "I'm sorry you don't like Garth, Mr. Larabee," his laughter died in his throat as the longhaired man stuck his head from behind the curtain. "I...I..." he stammered as the serious face glared at him.

Tanner stepped towards the bed and drawled softly, "you're gonna put that CD away and you're gonna tell the nurses what you've been doing. Otherwise I'm gonna do it for you. Kid, my friend is a very sick man and these pranks of yours aren't doing him any good. I think you owe him an apology for making him even more miserable than his surgery made him."

Jeremy looked at the man, unsure what he should do. He knew he'd gone too far, but wasn't ready to admit it. "All I did was listen to my music."

"No, Kid, that's not all you did. You had everyone believing Chris was hearing things. You had the nurses getting upset when he told them what you were playing."

"B...but I didn't mean any harm," the kid said dropping his eyes from the intense blue ones above him.

"Maybe not, Jeremy, but Chris really is sick and he needs to be resting. Listening to that music..."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt him," Jeremy kept his eyes downcast as he spoke to Tanner.

"I'm glad to hear that, Jeremy. Will you tell the nurses or will I?"

"I'll tell them. Was it wrong when I told them about seeing him throw out the water he was supposed to drink?"

"Yes!" came the pained voice from behind the curtain.

"No, Jeremy, it wasn't. If you see him do it again you tell them!"

"Vin!"

"Chris, you can't have it both ways," Tanner smiled as he looked behind the curtain at his friend. "I'm trying to show Jeremy what's right and wrong. Now he knows he's doing wrong with playing that music and making others believe you're hearing things. So it's only right that he knows he did the right thing by ratting you out to the nurses. Ya can't have it both ways, Cowboy."

"Dammit, Tanner," Larabee hissed and grabbed at his throat. He waited for the pain to recede and clenched his eyes tightly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew the sharpshooter was lending him his strength. He opened his eyes as the pain finally eased and smiled at the worried face standing beside him. "S...sorry, didn't m...mean to s...scare you."

"Hell, Chris, you sound lousy."

"Honestly, Vin, I feel lousy. I never should've agreed to having the damn surgery."

"There wasn't much choice, Chris. You were just getting worse. At least once this is over you'll be healthy again."

"I sure as h...hell hope so, Vin."

The two men looked up as the curtain was drawn back and five men entered.

"Hey, Stud, how're you doing?" Wilmington asked.

"F...fine, Buck," Larabee answered weakly.

"You don't sound fine, Brother," Sanchez observed.

"Did Dr. Murphy see you today, Chris?" Jackson asked as he touched the blond's forehead.

"Yeah, she's trying to find out why I feel like sh... crap," he said.

"You've still got a fever from the looks of you," the medic told him. "How's the throat feel?"

"You don't want to know, Nate," the sick man answered.

"Are you still hearing rap music, Mr. Larabee?" Standish asked curiously. He was planning a little search and seizure if the blond answered in the affirmative.

"That's been taken care of, Ez. Jeremy and I had a little discussion and Chris won't be hearing rap music anymore. Right, Jeremy?" Tanner asked.

"Yes, Sir," the boy answered from the other side of the curtain.

"I'll explain later," Tanner told the group of curious men.

"Have you been drinking anything, Chris?" Jackson asked.

"Tried earlier," Larabee told him, closing his eyes as the medic's face turned stern.

"They won't take the IV out until you're drinking," the medic told him.

"So they tell me. Well if I could get it past my throat I would. Hell, Nathan, I've been trying, but it's hard enough getting air to pass through," he gasped breathlessly. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to meet the disappointed look he knew would be on the medic's face.

"Did Dr. Murphy get the results of the throat swab back yet?" Sanchez asked.

"I don't t...think so. At least she h...hasn't told me anything," Larabee rasped.

"Excuse me gentlemen," the nurse said as she entered the room carrying a white collar. "Chris, I'm going to change the ice pack around your neck."

Larabee opened his eyes and recognized the nurse from the night before, "Okay, Katy," he answered. He pressed the button to raise his head and sat still while the nurse changed the uncomfortable wrap-a-round.

Jackson knew how uncomfortable the collar was and he wondered why the ice pack didn't seem to be helping. He heard the nurse telling Chris she'd be back to start his antibiotics and give him something for pain. He followed her out to the desk. "Does Dr. Murphy have any idea what's causing the swelling to be so pronounced?" he asked.

"She's waiting for the results of the throat swab. We should have those by tomorrow morning."

"What about his temperature?"

"It's at one hundred and two point nine right now and we're monitoring him closely."

"There's gotta be something going on to cause his temperature to be so high. I knew this was going to be hard on him because of his age, but this is even worse than I thought," Jackson told her.

"I know it's hard, but he'll be fine once we find out the problem and treat it," Katy assured him.

"Has Dr. Murphy mentioned Acute Rheumatic fever?"

The nurse shook her head as she realized this man knew more than she thought. "She mentioned it on his chart, but the blood work is negative and Chris doesn't have the muscle or joint pain we'd normally associate with ARF," she explained.

"Thank God for that," the medic told her.

"We'll know more when Dr. Murphy comes in tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Katy," he said and walked back towards the room.

"W...what did she have to say, Nathan?" Larabee asked.

Jackson laughed as he met the glazed green eyes. "She said we'd know more when the doctor comes by tomorrow morning."

"You guys might as well go home," Larabee rasped tiredly. "As soon as Katy comes back with that shot I'm gonna try to sleep."

"We'll stick around for a while, Chris," Dunne offered.

"Not much to s...see here, JD. S...seems like I'm a...always tired lately."

"It takes time, Chris, but you'll be up and glaring sooner than you know."

"S...sure, B...Buck. Look, I m...mean it guys. I'm just gonna sleep."

---

Jeremy watched the nurse return and knew he had to make good on his promise. He really hadn't meant to hurt anyone he just wanted to have fun. He hated being in the hospital and the last week of being stuck inside was hard on the fourteen year old. "Katy?"

The nurse smiled at the young man. "What's wrong, Jeremy?" she asked.

"I...I lied when I said I was playing Garth Brooks."

"Pardon me?" The nurse asked, confusion written on her face.

"I told everyone I was playing Garth Brooks, but I wasn't. I was playing Rap music. Mr. Larabee wasn't lying or hearing things. I'm sorry."

"Jeremy, that wasn't a very nice thing to do. Mr. Larabee is very sick and he needs to rest. If we really thought he was hearing things we would've had to bring in a psychiatrist. I'm glad you told the truth and I hope you're not planning a repeat performance!" she said sternly.

"No, Katy, I'm not gonna play any more rap. I really don't like the stuff that much and I was only trying to have fun. I'm sorry, Mr. Larabee."

"It's okay, Jeremy. M...maybe you could play a little Garth Brooks w...when these g...guys leave."

Larabee's weak voice barely made it to Jeremy's ears, but the kid smiled as he answered. "Yes, Sir, I may be a kid but I like country music."

Katy smiled as she moved behind the curtain once more. She nodded at the six hovering men as she injected the pain medication into Larabee's IV and started a new course of antibiotics. "I'll be back when your friends leave to take your vitals, Chris."

"They're just leaving, Katy. G...goodnight, Boys," he said as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cup around his arm. He nodded as each man walked to the other side of the curtain, leaving him alone with Vin Tanner once more. "G...go home, Vin. I'm just gonna sleep. T...thanks for clearing t...things up with the k...kid."

The sharpshooter nodded and left the room. Katy finished the vital signs, frowning as she noted the temperature was at one hundred and three even. She noted everything on his chart and turned out the lights. She knew the man on the bed was nearly asleep and she patted his shoulder. "Goodnight, Chris."

"Hmm," was the mumbled answer she received.

---

"Good morning, Chris."

Larabee opened his eyes and stared at the nurse. He recognized Sylvie from the day before and tried to smile. "M...morning," he rasped.

"I hear you had a rough night of it," Sylvie observed as she placed a thermometer in his ear and depressed the tiny button. She looked at the reading and noted it on the paper she held.

"Didn't s...sleep very w...well."

"I know. Dr. Murphy should be here in a couple of minutes and hopefully she's seen the results of your throat swab. Have you tried to drink anything?"

"Tried a little. T...threw it u...up. M...made t...things even w...worse."

"You have to keep trying."

"I k...know."

"Good morning, Chris," Murphy greeted as she entered the room.

"Doc, w...what's going on?"

"I have the results of your throat swab. It does show a few strep, but the colony count is not high enough to be the cause of the elevated temperature."

"What does that mean?" Larabee asked painfully.

"It means I want to have a look at your throat again," she explained. She pulled on surgical gloves and took a clean tongue depressor and a small flashlight from the pocket of her white lab coat.

"H...hell, doc," Larabee hissed as she told him to open his mouth. He opened his mouth and felt the depressor placed on his dry tongue. He felt every move she made with it as she checked every angle of his throat. He gagged as she finally removed it and felt around his throat. By the time she finished he was in misery and he finally focused on her face. "Doc?"

"Chris, we have a problem that needs to be dealt with right now."

"What is it?" Larabee asked pressing the button and sitting up further in the bed.

"You've developed an abscess on the back of your throat. It's fairly big and that's why you're having trouble getting anything down."

"An abscess?"

"Yes. It's a pocket of infection and we need to fix it before it gets any worse."

"Fix it?" Larabee knew by the look on the woman's face he didn't really want to hear the answer.

"Aspirate it."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I have to drain it," she told him. She placed a hand on his shoulder as she explained. "We'll take you to a treatment room just down the hall."

Larabee's eyebrows rose as he asked, "How do you drain it?"

"We'll use a needle to drain the infection. Don't worry, it won't be that bad. We'll spray your throat with something called Hurricane spray and freeze it."

"Needles, Doc?"

"It won't take long, Chris, and you'll start feeling better before you know it."

"I think you said something like that when you were talking about taking out my tonsils. Somehow I don't think it's gonna be as easy as you say."

Murphy couldn't suppress a grin as she heard Larabee's voice. As weak as he was she knew he'd get through this. "Sylvie, see if anyone's using treatment room three. Make sure there are twenty cc syringes and eighteen gauge needles."

"Yes, Doctor." Sylvie hurried from the room to get preparations underway.

"You just rest, Chris. An orderly will be here with a wheelchair to bring you down to the treatment room," Murphy smiled at the pale blond and followed the nurse out the door.

'Hell,' Larabee thought as he settled back on the bed. It wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up to a male voice calling him. He opened his eyes and looked at a muscular blond haired man with blue eyes and a square jaw. The well muscled arms bulged against the white shirt he wore.

"Mr. Larabee, I'm here to take you to see Dr. Murphy. Do you think you can sit up and I'll help you into the wheelchair?"

"T...think so," Larabee hissed. He struggled up in the bed, amazed at how tired he felt. He slid his feet over the edge and mumbled thanks as the orderly grasped his arm and steadied him until he was sitting in the chair. He kept his eyes closed as the room did a crazy spin. He felt a blanket draped over his legs and the IV pole was placed between his feet.

"Can you hold onto that for me?" the orderly asked.

Larabee nodded and held tightly to the pole as he was wheeled from the room. He smiled as he recognized the young man walking towards him. "Morning," he greeted.

"Morning, Cowboy, thought I'd pop by and see how you were feeling this morning before I went into the office. Where are they taking you?"

"Dr. Murphy says she's gonna drain an abscess. She said that's what's causing the swelling and the infection."

Tanner's eyebrows rose sympathetically. "Needles?" he asked.

Larabee nodded as the orderly began wheeling him down the hallway again. He was grateful when his friend walked along with them. It wasn't long before the wheelchair stopped in front of the treatment room and the orderly knocked on the door. It was opened by a nurse Larabee didn't recognize and she held it as his chair was pushed inside.

"I'll be right here, Chris," Tanner assured his friend.

"T...thanks, Vin," Larabee muttered softly as the door slid closed behind him.

"Chris, my name is Tonia and I'm gonna help Dr. Murphy today. We're gonna get you on the table here and get you ready. Alright?"

The blond nodded to the petite redhead as he stood on shaky legs and eased his butt onto the edge of the examination table. He felt steadying hands ease him onto the bed until he was lying flat on his back. A thin sheet was draped over him and he didn't open his eyes as he listened to the nurse prepare things. He felt himself drifting until he heard Doctor Murphy's familiar voice calling to him. He opened his eyes and tried to smile in spite of the niggling fear. He hated needles and didn't relish the thought of having one shoved into the back of his throat. The light over his head was turned on and he blinked his eyes as the doctor spoke to him.

"Chris, I asked Vin to come in and give me a hand," Murphy told him.

"A hand with what?" the blond asked.

"Well he's good for moral support among other things."

"Doc!" Larabee hissed.

"Just relax, Chris. Vin, I want you on that side of the table," she ordered. "Chris, I need you to open your mouth. Tonia is going to spray it with the freezing agent and then we'll get you all fixed up."

"Okay," Larabee rasped. He opened his mouth and soon felt a cold spray hit his ravaged throat. He coughed and gagged, but soon felt nothing at all. He watched the worried frown on his best friend's face. "You don't have to stay, Vin," he told the pale man.

"I'm okay, Chris," Tanner rested his hand on the blond's shoulder.

"Alright, Chris, we're ready to do this. It's important that you remain still at all times. Do you think you can do that?"

"Doc, w...what a....aren't you t...telling me?" the blonds voice sounded as if he was drunk as he tried to speak.

"Some people don't like the idea of a needle going into their mouth, Chris. I know about your aversion to needles and I'm hoping this won't be too hard on you. Vin is going to stay and help hold you down if we need him to," she said and indicated the longhaired man standing beside Larabee.

"S...shit. T...thought I w...wouldn't feel this o...one. Oh, h...hell, Doc, get it over with," he mumbled.

Dr. Murphy turned to the nurse and asked for the syringe and the needle. She gazed at her patient, a sympathetic look on her face. "Alright, Chris, I need you to open your mouth as far as you can and keep it that way. It's important that we get this done properly and drain all the infection from it. That means I'll have to do it from a couple of angles. Try and relax and we'll be finished before you know it. Tonia, make sure you suction his mouth."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse said.

Chris watched the needle move towards his mouth and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth as far as he could and waited for the inevitable. His eyes opened wide as he felt the sharp intrusion prick the back of his throat. He clenched his hands in the sheet and fought to remain calm as the agony ripped through him in spite of the freezing agent. He felt Tanner's hand clasp his forearm as his body tried to move of its own accord.

"Chris, you have to keep your mouth open!" Murphy ordered. She saw the lines of pain on his face and the beads of sweat on his forehead and knew the man was in horrific pain, yet there was nothing she could do until she finished aspirating the abscess. "Vin, I need you to hold him down. Hold on, Chris, I know this hurts, but it won't be much longer."

He forced his mind to think of other things, like riding Pony through the open field between his and Vin's ranches, but nothing helped. The awakened tiger at the back of his throat seemed to be clawing its way out through his neck. He gagged and tried to come off the table, but strong hands held him down. His glazed green eyes pleaded with Murphy to end his torment, but he knew it wasn't over as he felt the needle enter from a different angle. His breathing grew harsh as he tried to force air past the swollen area. He fought back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He'd known pain before, known what it was like to have bullets removed without the benefit of anesthetic, but this was the worst he'd ever endured. Through it all he heard Murphy's calm voice talking to him, trying to get him through the torment she was causing. He also heard the sharpshooter's soft Texas drawl as he tried to get his mind off what the doctor was doing to him. He held tightly to the sheets, praying the woman would tell him it was over. He felt the needle being withdrawn only to sink back in from another angle. Small moans drifted past his lips as the doctor continued to work on removing the pocket of pus. It seemed like a lifetime before the doctor withdrew the needle and he lay on the bed, gasping for breath, wondering if the agony would ever end.

"Chris, that's it. We're all done. Tonia is going to give you a shot of Morphine and we'll get you back to your room. I know that hurt, but it really was necessary. I'm pretty certain I got all the poison and your fever should start going down before long."

Chris nodded his sweat soaked head and opened his eyes. He didn't have the strength to speak and if he did he wouldn't have said anything the doctor would've wanted to hear. He watched as Tonia injected the pain medication into his IV and waited for it to take affect. He closed his eyes against the bright overhead light and felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Jerry, I don't think it's a good idea to put him in a wheelchair. Get a gurney to take him back to his room," the doctor told the orderly.

"I...I'm...o..."

"Chris, you're far from okay right now. This takes a lot out of a person and you've been sick for a while. So just lie still and relax. Jerry and Tonia are going to get you back to your room."

"Do as she says, Cowboy. You're looking a little pale right now. I'm gonna call the office and let them know I won't be coming in till later. I'll see you in your room in a couple of minutes."

"D...don't h...have to..."

"I know I don't have to stay, Chris. I want too. See you in a couple," Tanner patted his friend's shoulder and left the room.

Larabee nodded and turned as the doctor called his name. "That shot should help you and will probably make you drowsy. Don't fight it. Rest and make sure you tell the nurses if you need anything for the pain through the day."

"Okay," Larabee rasped as his eyes slid shut.

"I'll come by to see you later today," Murphy told him as she left.

Chris tried to help them move him onto the gurney, but his strength left him and he let them do the work. It didn't take long for them to return him to his room and he was eased into the comforts of a real bed. His head was lowered and the blankets were pulled up over his shivering body. He turned on his side and closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion and medication lull him towards sleep. He opened his eyes long enough for Sylvie to take his vitals and replace the IV solution and place a new bag of antibiotics over his head.

"Go to sleep, Chris. I know that was hard on you."

"A...am kinda t...tired," Larabee rasped.

Vin came into the room holding a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin. He nodded to the nurse as she was leaving. He turned as she spoke to him.

"Don't give him anything to drink unless you see me first. His throat was sprayed with a freezing agent and he could choke if you do."

"I won't," Tanner assured her as he sat in the chair by the bed. He shook his head at the pale features of his best friend and prayed that nothing else would go wrong.

---

Vin watched as his friend started to wake up. He placed a sympathetic hand on the bare shoulder as a soft moan escaped the blond's mouth. "Hey, Cowboy, welcome back."

Larabee's eyes opened and slowly focused on the face standing beside his bed. He swallowed and once more felt pain flare at the back of his throat. He struggled upwards in the bed, and smiled weakly as his friend pushed the button to raise his head. "T...thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," the blond told him.

"I expect you do. That looked rough."

"Felt rough. What time is it?" the sick man asked bewilderedly.

"It's a little after eleven."

Larabee's eyebrows rose as he gazed into the worried face. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"That's gratitude for you. A man stays with you while a doctor attacks you with needles and all he gets is 'Aren't you supposed to be at work?' Next time I'll just let what's his name hold you down."

"Vin, that's not what I meant..." Larabee began, his serious face turning soft as he watched the grin spread over the sharpshooter's face. "Hell, Tanner...'

"I bet it was hell, Cowboy. Want something to drink? Sylvie said you can have some water once you woke up."

"Not yet, Vin," Larabee muttered as he closed his eyes.

"Chris, you have too..."

"Drink? I know. Just give it a little longer. Right now between my throat and my stomach it wouldn't stay down anyway."

"You know they won't take out the IV unless you drink."

"I know," Larabee assured his friend tiredly. "I'll drink, Vin, as soon as this fire dies down a little more."

"Water's good for a fire, Cowboy."

Larabee couldn't help laughing as he watched the smirk form on the sharpshooter's face. He returned it with one of his own before speaking. "Hell, Tanner, give me the damn water."

"Good idea," Tanner said as he passed the cup to his trembling friend.

Chris took a deep breath and tipped the cup to his lips. He swallowed a small amount of the liquid. "Shit!" he hissed painfully. He tried again with the same result and passed the cup to Tanner as his stomach heaved. He grabbed for the basin and let the contents of his rebelling stomach empty into the tiny basin. He groaned and put his head back on the pillows.

Tanner watched his friend worriedly. He knew it would take Chris a while to get over this one. The normal tonsillectomy took a couple of weeks to get over in an adult, but the sick man was having extra trouble with infections. He hoped Murphy's assurance that once the abscess was drained Larabee would improve rapidly rung true. He picked up a face cloth and headed for the bathroom. He wet it with cool water and brought it back to the blond.

Larabee took the cloth and washed his face. "Thanks, Vin," he said and let his eyes close.

Tanner sat in his chair and watched his friend. He was surprised to hear the soft voice speak a few minutes later.

"There's not much point in sticking around, Vin, I'm just going to go back to sleep. Get some lunch and maybe when you guys come back tonight I'll be able to stay awake long enough to talk," Larabee ordered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Vin, get out of here. I know how much you hate hospitals."

"Yeah, probably just as much as you do."

"Not at the moment, Tanner, nobody could hate hospitals as much as I do at the moment," the sick man said tiredly.

"Okay, Chris, I'll see you after dinner. Try to drink some more."

"Hmm," the blond mumbled as the sharpshooter left the room. Chris was just about asleep when he heard a voice from the opposite side of the curtain. He groaned and tried to cover his ears, but stopped as he realized there was no music just a voice calling his name. "What is it, Kid?" he asked weakly.

"I...I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Jeremy told him. "I didn't..."

"Its okay, Kid," Larabee interrupted. "Apology accepted."

"Thank you. Would you like me to play some Country music?"

"Not now, Kid, maybe later. I'm just gonna sleep for awhile."

"Alright," Jeremy told him and slipped the headphones over his ears.

Chris smiled as he listened to the quiet. 'Silence really is golden,' he thought as he drifted towards sleep.

---

Jeremy stuck his head around the corner and looked at the pale figure in the other bed. He was dressed and ready to go home, but he still felt guilty about what he did. "Mr. Larabee?"

Chris opened his eyes and looked towards the boy. The kid was half hidden by the curtains and he beckoned him to come forward. "You getting out of here, Kid?" he asked.

"My Mom is just talking with the nurse. I wanted you to know I really am sorry for what I did. It was supposed to be fun. I mean I though it was okay cause you were just having your tonsils out and my friend Tommy had his done two months ago and he went home the same day. I thought you were just faking it cause Tommy had it so easy and even got all kinds of ice cream and Popsicles. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, Jeremy. You go home and listen to your parents."

"Jeremy, are you ready to go? Jeremy?"

"In here, Mom, I was just saying goodbye to Mr. Larabee," Jeremy explained as his mother came around the curtain.

"You shouldn't be bothering Mr. Larabee. I can tell he's still not feeling well. Goodbye, Mr. Larabee."

"Goodbye. Take care of yourself, Kid."

"I will."

Chris watched the two people leave and sat up in the bed. He slid his legs over the side and teetered on the edge. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to keep from falling. "S...shit," he hissed. The room finally righted itself and he held onto the IV pole and headed for the chair by the window. He slid into it and pulled back the curtains. The sun shone through the panes, forcing him to squint until his eyes adjusted. When they finally did he dropped the curtain and relaxed in the chair.

Sylvie walked into the room and found him sleeping in the chair half an hour later. This was her final day of her four day rotation and she was looking forward to some time off. As a nurse who cared about her patients she was worried about this particular one. She knew what he went through the day before was hard, but she also knew he needed to drink. She stepped towards the bed and placed her hands on her hips. "Chris?"

Larabee opened his eyes and smiled at the nurse. "Good morning," he greeted softly.

"Good morning. I'm glad to see you out of bed. I'm going to change the sheets before you get back in. Then I'll bring you a basin of water and you can have a sponge bath."

"I'd rather have a shower," he said as he stood up. "Thanks," he muttered as she placed her hand on his arm to steady him.

"You haven't been eating or drinking. You're still running a fever and you're shaky. A shower is out of the question," she told him.

"Hell, Sylvie, I can sit on one of those damn chairs you have in those rooms," he hissed, anger once more showing in his green eyes.

"That would be fine, but you still have an IV and it won't be coming out until you're drinking the right amount of fluids. Now just sit there and wait until I get the basin and soap for you."

Larabee's anger and frustration got the better of him and he snapped heatedly. "What if I refuse the damned sponge bath?"

"Then I'll have to do it for you. Or else there's a couple of older female volunteers who would probably jump at the chance of getting their hands on you," she watched his face grow angrier with each threat. "Of course there's also the student nurses. I'm sure they'd love to come watch me bathe you. We'll call it on the job training and believe me I'll do a thorough job. Now which would you prefer?" She smiled and folded her arms as she waited for his answer.

"You wouldn't dare!" he snapped.

"Try me," she told him. "Well?"

"Bring me the damn water!"

"And the damn soap and the damn towel. Really, Chris, you are rather demanding at times." She continued to smile at him as she turned away. 'Thanks, Joyce,' she thought as she remembered her friend's way of dealing with stubborn patients.

Chris sat in the chair and angrily looked around the room for something to throw. He knew he was acting childish and breathed deeply to bring his anger under control. A smile crossed his face as he realized what just happened. He rarely backed down, especially from a woman, yet he did just that with the nurse who just left. He shook his head and waited for her return. He knew he should apologize, but he didn't have to do it right away.

It wasn't long before the bed was changed and a basin of water was placed on the table in front of him. A small bar of soap and a face cloth were beside it and a towel was placed on the bed. Sylvie added a clean blue hospital gown on the bed as well. She'd been talking with the other nurses who experienced Larabee's stubbornness and knew he was also partial to black. She smiled at him as she said. "Alright, Chris, I'll leave you to it. Oh, I checked, but there was nothing in black so the blue one will have to do." She smiled at him and watched as he fought to keep from smiling at her. His choice of clothing was a running joke with the nurses who looked after him on the adult floors. She was glad she'd been told about it as she saw a perfect smile brighten the handsome face.

"Thanks, Sylvie."

"You're welcome. Use your call button when you're ready for me to do your back," she told him.

"I can do it."

"Chris, its kind of hard to reach your back."

"Alright," he said with a grin. Then added, "as long as you leave the volunteers and the student nurses outside."

"Hmm, no problem. The pleasure will be all mine I assure you," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

He laughed, unsure whether she was flirting with him or being serious as he watched her leave. It took him half an hour to wash and he finally pushed the button for Sylvie to come in. She entered the room less than a minute later and smiled as she took the soapy water and replaced it with new warm liquid. She scrubbed his back and helped him into the new gown and finally settled him back in the bed.

By the time he settled down on the new sheets he was exhausted and once more in pain. He watched as Sylvie reached for the glass of water and held it towards him. He shook his head, but reached for the glass. He sipped a small amount of the liquid and grimaced as it ignited the fire at the back of his throat.

Sylvie watched him, pleased that he was at least making an effort to drink. She stood beside him and took his vitals, noting that his temperature had dropped below the one hundred and two mark. This was a good sign that Dr. Murphy was right and that aspirating the abscess was the answer to part of the problem. She smiled as the sick man took another small sip before placing the cup back on the table. "I'll be back in a minute with your antibiotics and a shot," she told him, leaving the room before he could protest.

Chris was grateful when she returned with the shot. He knew things were getting better, but it would be a while yet before he was back to himself. As the medication took hold he snuggled under the blankets and fell asleep.

---

Vin slowly opened the door and walked into the room. The bed beside the door was newly made, the sheets and bedspread pulled tightly without a crease in them. The curtain was pulled back and he could see the slow rise and fall of his friend's chest. Chris was on his back, his head slightly elevated, his eyes closed in silent slumber. Vin turned to signal for his two companions to be quiet as they entered the room behind him. Buck and JD were teasing each other and he wanted to stop them before they woke their friend.

"Can you two put a muzzle on it."

"Why?" Wilmington asked as he slipped into the room.

"You two are gonna wake him up."

"Too late," Larabee's raspy voice said. He'd known he had company before Tanner spoke. His instincts were still good despite the medication he was on.

"Hey, Chris," Dunne said exuberantly as he hurried across the room and stood beside the bed.

"JD," Larabee opened his eyes and smiled at the young man.

"How are you feeling, Stud?" Wilmington asked.

"Tired," the blond answered. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," the sharpshooter asked. "Looks like your dinner's here."

Larabee looked at the tray on the table and sighed. He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. he glared at the longhaired man as he slid the tray towards him. He lifted the lids, but dropped them back without a word. He felt a headache building and wanted nothing more than to lie down and go back to sleep.

"Come on, Cowboy, your ice cream is melting," Tanner told him.

"Not hungry," the blond answered.

"Come on, Chris, you gotta start eating," Wilmington lifted the lid from the ice cream and grimaced at the soupy mass. "Or should I say drinking? Want me to go down to the cafe and get you some fresh ice cream?" he asked hopefully.

"No thanks, Buck. I don't want anything right now."

"They won't take out..."

"I know," Larabee interrupted the tracker. "Right now I don't want anything."

"Have you been drinking anything at all?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"Drank a little water earlier," the sick man said. His stomach still churned and he knew there was no way he could stomach anything right now.

A nurse came into the room and smiled at the three men before moving towards her patient, "How are you feeling, Chris?" she asked.

"I'm okay, Matty"

"How's your stomach?" she asked, remembering how he'd lost the liquid he'd drank earlier in the day.

"About the same," he answered honestly.

"Have you tried to drink anything since I was here?"

"Tried. Lost it," Larabee told her.

"I'm going to talk to Dr. Murphy about getting you something to settle your stomach," she said as she lifted the lid on the dinner tray. "Chris, you need to start eating."

"That's what we've been telling him," Dunne told her.

"You won't be released until you're eating and drinking," Matty warned her patient.

"So I hear," Larabee said, apologizing immediately for the sarcastic tone of his voice.

"Do you need something for pain?" she asked as she reluctantly placed the cover back on the melted ice cream.

"Not right now," he told her as he lifted his hand and rubbed his throbbing temples. His throat felt on fire and he knew it was going to be a long night.

"Chris," Larabee opened his eyes and looked into the sympathetic hazel eyes of the nurse. "Don't be afraid to admit you need a little help sometimes."

"Listen to her, Chris," Tanner shook his head at the stubborn man he called brother.

"I'm okay, Vin. Right now I just don't want anything else."

"Alright, Chris, but I'll be back in a few minutes with your antibiotics," Matty told him as she checked the flow on his IV line.

Larabee nodded as she left. He swallowed and coughed into his hand, groaning as it tore at his raw throat. "Shit!" he hissed as he sank back into his pillow. Two long minutes later he opened his eyes and stared into the concerned faces of his friends.

"Are you alright?" Dunne asked.

"I'm fine, Kid, just caught me by surprise," the blond said as he accepted a cloth from the ladies' man. "Thanks, Buck," he smiled weakly as he washed his face.

"You don't look fine, Chris. Did Dr. Murphy come to see you today?" Tanner asked.

"She came in this morning. The tests came back fine. I'll probably be getting out of here tomorrow."

"I wouldn't count on it," Wilmington told him.

"Yeah, Chris. She's not gonna let you go if you aren't drinking and can't keep nothing down," the youngest member of the team said.

"Don't kid yourself, JD. I'm leaving here tomorrow and that's all there is to it." Larabee said the words but they sounded flat to his own ears. He remembered Carolyn Murphy telling him he wouldn't be released until his fluid intake was up to par. He'd started forcing the liquid past the searing pain in his throat while she was there, but had lost it within a few seconds. He sighed heavily as he felt sleep dragging at him once more.

Matty returned to the room five minutes later to find three men sitting quietly and Chris Larabee asleep on the bed. She silently hung the bag of antibiotics and adjusted the flow. She checked the IV solution and replaced the bag as well. She smiled at the three men as she left, wondering if they were as stubborn as the man lying on the bed.

---

"Look, can you just take the damn thing out so I can get out of here?" Larabee snapped, as the day nurse came into the room. His ravaged throat gave his voice a husky tone. He'd managed to drink a small amount of liquid through the night and even kept most of it down. Now he wanted the IV out so he could leave and no amount of reasoning was going to stop him from achieving that goal. The woman coming into his room was the latest victim of his anger and frustration. The night nurse successfully ignored him when she'd come in to take his vitals and change IV bags. "Where's Dr. Murphy?"

This was the first day of her four day rotation, but she already knew about the man in this room. She'd been warned that he was impatient with his recovery and wanted out. Carolyn Murphy would be there shortly and the decision would be made then.

"Well good morning to you too," she said as she took his arm and placed the BP cuff around it.

Larabee knew he was being unreasonable, but he wanted to be home. To rest in his own bed without someone waking him to take his temperature or blood pressure or anything else. His throat still burned when he drank anything, but he was forcing himself to do it. He felt the thermometer placed in his ear and he turned towards the nurse as she finished her morning rituals. "Look, I'm sorry. I just want..."

"Outta here. I think everyone on the floor knows that. There's nothing I can do until your doctor comes in. There's no orders to remove your IV so you'll just have to be patient until she gets here," she told him as she recorded the info on his chart.

"When will Dr. Murphy be in?" he asked again, his voice a little less sarcastic, but just as demanding.

"She's just making her rounds," Amanda told him as she looked at her watch.

Larabee turned towards the door as soft footsteps heralded the arrival of the doctor. "Doc, I'm getting out of here. Right?"

Murphy's eyebrows rose as she listened to the raspy voice. "Good morning, Chris."

"Morning, Doc," Larabee greeted impatiently. "So, I'm getting outta here," he repeated.

"Well..."

"I drank during the night..."

"I can see that, but its not enough. You need to keep up the fluid intake or you'll become dehydrated real fast."

"I will, Doc. I just want to go home and sleep in my bed."

"Let me take a look at you and make sure the abscess has been completely taken care of before we discuss your release. "What are his vitals, Amanda?" she asked as she had Larabee open his mouth.

"BP is 120 over 80. Temperature is 100.2."

Murphy used the tongue depressor to get a better look at the back of her patient's throat. The area was still swollen and red but the pocket of pus hadn't returned. She pulled the small wooden instrument from the blond's mouth and smiled at him. "I'm willing to make a deal with you, Chris."

"Deal? What kind of deal?" Larabee asked suspiciously.

"If you eat your Jell-O and ice cream I'll sign your release papers."

"Hell, Doc, I hate Jell-O."

"Amanda see if we can get him an extra dish of ice cream to replace the Jell-O."

"Yes, Doctor," Amanda said as she left the room.

"Well, Chris, do we have a deal."

"Two bowls of ice cream. Not my idea of breakfast. More like something Vin or JD would eat."

"Chris?"

"Alright, Doc. You got a deal," Larabee thought. 'Hell, I can flush the stuff down the toilet once it's melted.'

"Don't get any ideas about cheating on our deal, Chris."

"W...what?" the blond asked innocently.

Murphy smiled as she patted his shoulder. "I've been talking to Dr. Midland and a few of the nurses. They tell me that you and Vin are quite deft at getting rid of things you don't want to eat. I'm going to want an eye witness account of your eating habits this morning."

"Hell, Doc, that's not fair."

"Not hell, Chris. I'm just edging my bets. I'm sure one of your friends will be here when they bring breakfast. If not I'll have one of the candy stripers come in and make sure you get it all down."

"Shit!"

Murphy laughed at the sheepish look on the handsome face. She was glad she'd taken the time to talk with Stacy Midland the day before.

"I can go if I eat it, right?"

"Right with a few conditions."

"Conditions?"

"That's right. We'll go over them when you're done with your part of the deal."

"Alright, Doc."

"We'll talk shortly, Chris," she assured him as she left the room.

The blond settled back on the pillows and closed his eyes. He couldn't help but smile as he realized the people at Saint Vincents knew him and his men too well. He wasn't looking forward to his part of the deal, but vowed one way or another he was getting out of the hospital today. He'd sleep in his own home tonight no matter what the doctor said.

---

Chris sensed someone watching him and opened sleep drenched eyes. He shifted upwards in the bed and pressed the button that would bring him eye level with the man seated in the chair beside him.

"Morning," he rasped.

"Morning, Chris. How are you feeling?" Tanner asked, still worried about the pale faced man in the bed.

"Better," Larabee told him.

"Good thing. Amanda just brought in your breakfast. Two bowls of Vanilla ice cream."

"Oh, great, just what I want first thing in the morning." His eyes came up and met those of his best friend. "Want..."

"No can do, Cowboy. Amanda told me you made a deal with Doc Murphy. You have to eat both of those before she'll even consider letting you out of here. I'm supposed to let them know how much you've eaten."

"You could flush it down the toilet," Larabee asked hopefully.

"Not this time," the tracker smiled as he removed the lids from the cartons.

"Traitor."

"Dig in, Chris, before you have milkshakes instead of ice cream."

The blond glared at the sharpshooter, letting him know that somehow he'd find a way to get back at him. He lifted the spoon and accepted the dish from his friend. He took a small amount of the sweet tasting ice cream and placed it into his mouth. The cold was a welcome respite to his dry mouth and he smiled at his friend.

Tanner watched the smile spread over his friend's face as he placed the cold dessert into his mouth. He returned the smile as Larabee seemed to be savoring the coolness. He sympathized with his friend as the blond swallowed the liquid, his face turning up in a grimace of pain.

"H...hell..." Larabee rasped as the liquid ignited the fire at the back of his throat. He placed the dish back on the table and slid to the side of the bed. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" he swore.

"That bad?" Tanner asked, a slight smile on his face in spite of the sympathy he felt for his friend.

"Hell, yeah," the blond felt his stomach churning and kept his eyes closed as nausea assaulted his senses.

"Chris, if you don't eat it they'll keep you in," the tracker warned.

"This isn't a jail, Vin."

"Maybe not, but you might as well be a prisoner here. Between Doc Murphy, Doc Midland and Nathan you've got three wardens."

"They can't make me stay here!" Larabee hissed.

"Maybe not, but if you go home and you're not eating or drinking you'll be back in here and probably worse off than you are right now."

The blond sat heavily on the bed and looked at his friend. He knew Tanner was right, but that didn't make it any easier. He lifted the spoon again and took the second mouthful with the same agonizing result. His eyes once more met those of his friend and he spoke softly. "Don't ever let them take out your tonsils, Vin. I've been shot, beaten, stabbed, and had to face Mary's wrath, but nothing comes close to this," he hissed.

"It's not supposed to be this bad, Cowboy..."

"That's right, Chris," Larabee and Tanner looked to the entrance just as Nathan Jackson entered. "If you'd taken the antibiotics and other medications the doctors prescribed you'd probably still have your tonsils and be glaring at hardened criminals instead of your friends."

"Nathan..."

"Don't Nathan me, Chris. Just eat the damn ice cream and put up with it," Jackson knew he was being hard on the sick man, but he'd just finished talking with Murphy and Midland and he wasn't looking forward to his next assignment. In fact he dreaded the thought completely, but he wanted to save the home care nurses the wrath of the green eyed patient from hell.

Tanner looked at the medic, amazed at the harsh tone he was using. He knew by the look on the man's face something was bothering him. "What's going on, Nate?" he asked softly.

"What makes you think something's going on, Vin? Look, Chris, just try and get it down. Dr. Murphy will be here shortly to discuss your release and conditions."

"What conditions?" Larabee asked, again taking a small amount of ice cream.

"By the time you finish your ice cream she'll be here," Jackson explained.

Chris knew by the look on his friend's face it would do him no good to ask, again, about conditions. It took him ten minutes to force down the ice cream and another ten to get his churning stomach under control. He looked at the second dish and turned to the medic.

"Nathan, if I eat that it's all gonna come back up," he explained hopefully. His face turned to the door as Carolyn Murphy entered.

"So how are we doing with our deal, Chris?" she asked as she joined the two men by the side of Larabee's bed.

"He ate one, Doc. Says if he eats that one it'll all come back up," Jackson explained.

"Are you feeling nauseated, Chris?" Murphy asked, a frown on her face.

"A little," the blond answered.

"Vin, he did eat all the first one, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Tanner answered.

"Okay..."

"Then I can get out of here?" Larabee asked.

"Well..."

"Doc..."

"Chris, there are a few things we need to discuss before I sign your release papers."

"Conditions?" the blond asked.

"And your home care."

"Home Care!" Larabee hissed and groaned as the words tore from his ravaged throat. "What the hell do you mean home care?"

"Chris," Jackson tried to calm the angered patient.

"Stay out of this, Nathan," the blond rasped. "Doc?"

"Chris, how many courses of antibiotics did you go through, or should I say were you supposed to go through before I took out your tonsils?"

"I...I don't know," Larabee stammered. "One or two?"

"Try four, Chris. The trouble with your tonsils started four months ago and Dr. Midland prescribed antibiotics. It seems like each time you conveniently forgot to take them."

"M...made me sick," Larabee wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Then why didn't you tell Stacey. She could've changed them for you? The ones I gave you didn't make you sick, did they?"

"No."

"Again you neglected to take them. That's probably why the abscess formed. The infection was there and started before your surgery. I have you down now as a non compliant patient."

"Non compliant," Tanner repeated. "Wish Ez was here, he'd know what that word means."

"It means Chris doesn't follow instructions the way he's supposed to," Jackson answered.

"Hell, Doc..."

"Hell is right, Chris," Murphy grinned at the handsome man. "How badly do you want out of here?"

"Do I need to answer that?"

Murphy couldn't help but smile as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Okay, here's what's going to happen. I've ordered a course of ten days of antibiotics to be delivered three times a day, intravenously..."

"Doc..."

"Hear me out, Chris. You've shown that you can't be trusted to take the medication properly. If I release you today it'll be under the condition you leave with a hep-lock and Nathan will administer the antibiotics. Otherwise I can't with all conscience release you," Murphy explained.

"I'll take the pills, Doc," Larabee assured her.

"I wish I could believe you, Chris, but I know your kind. You think, 'I feel perfectly fine. I don't need to take this anymore.' And you throw the pills out," Murphy's eyebrows rose as she stared at the fiery green depths of The Firm's leader. "Don't look at me like that, Chris. Let me tell you what could've and still might happen. You could've ended up with ARF."

"ARF?" Tanner asked.

"Acute Rheumatic Fever. It's not a very nice disease. Joint pain, heart problems, and high fever and did I mention a very long recovery period. Now I know you don't want that so why don't we just make things easy and I'll arrange to have the hep-lock inserted and sign your papers?"

Larabee sat on the edge of the bed, but wouldn't meet the eyes of either person in the room. He knew they'd think he was sulking, but right now he didn't care. He was angry and when Chris Larabee was angry his glare could burn a hole through the hapless victim who incurred his wrath.

"Well, Chris?" Murphy asked, her arms folded across her chest.

Larabee lifted his head and stared into the bright eyes, "I could just walk out of here on my own," he stated.

"You could!" she agreed. "If that's what you want I'll go have the nurse bring you in your papers. You can sign yourself out and while you're doing that I'll warn the nurses in ICU they'll probably have a visit from you within the next week or so. You won't be able to fight off any infections and we'll probably end up with you fighting ARF or some other illness that could've been prevented with a little cooperation. So what's it gonna be?"

"Chris, you'd better listen to her, Cowboy," Tanner suggested.

"Ten days?" Larabee asked softly, his anger cooling, but nowhere near out.

"Ten days. The antibiotics will be given three times a day," Murphy explained, arms still locked in front of her.

"Is that it?" the blond asked, looking Murphy in the eyes once more.

"Not quite. You're not drinking as much as you need to. Nathan will be keeping an eye on your fluid intake. If he sees that you're not taking in as much as your body needs then I'll arrange to have intravenous solution given as well."

"Hell, Doc, might as well just stay here!" Larabee blasted as he glared at the three people in the room, daring them to say something he didn't want to hear. Murphy's next words took the wind out of his sails.

"That's fine by me. I'll let the nurses know you'll be staying," she said and turned away.

"Doc!" Larabee snapped as he watched his freedom, what little there was of it, slip away.

"Yes, Chris?" she asked innocently.

"Sign the papers and tell them to put in the damn...," he struggled to remember the word.

"Hep-lock," Jackson supplied.

"Yeah, heplock. I'll get you both back for this," Larabee warned the two smiling men standing beside his bed.

"What did we do?" Tanner asked.

Larabee refused to answer as he settled down to wait for the nurse to remove his IV. He closed his eyes and was drifting towards sleep when he remembered why the tracker was there. "You did bring my clothes, didn't you?"

"I got them right here," Tanner smiled as he held up the black jeans and T-shirt.

"Hand them over. I might as well start getting dressed while we wait for the damn nurse to show up! Nathan, go see what's taking her so long!"

"It's only been five minutes, Chris. She's probably with another patient," Jackson told him. He knew Larabee was angry, but he also wasn't about to let the man blame them. "Chris?"

"What?" Larabee snapped.

"You're not gonna give me any trouble when we get home are you?"

"Hell, Nathan, I'm not that stupid," he hissed. "The way things are going you'd probably tell Murphy and she'd order a bloody proctological exam!"

"Now there's a thought," Jackson said with a grin.

"You wouldn't dare!" the blond said, not at all sure Jackson and Murphy wouldn't do just that.

"Don't bet on it!" Jackson grinned as the nurse came through the door.

"Mr. Larabee, I hear you're going home," Amanda smiled as she walked up to the patient.

"Yeah, as soon as you get this IV out," Larabee hissed.

"Not quite, Chris," Jackson said. "She has to put in the hep-lock before we go, Chris."

"Dr. Murphy told me she wanted a hep-lock put in," the nurse said as she peeled the tape from the IV site. She pulled out the tiny catheter, placed a cotton ball on it and pressed firmly on the puncture wound. She looked at the three men and couldn't help but smile. The youngest man hid behind a smile, the man standing beside her looked as if the fate of the world was on his shoulders and her patient looked as if he'd been given a death sentence. She let her eyes meet the green eyes of her patient and spoke softly. "For someone who's getting out of here you don't seem very pleased."

"Oh, I'm pleased alright. Why wouldn't I be? I get treated like a child who didn't do his homework..."

Jackson stepped forward and interrupted, a trace of anger in his brown eyes. "Well if you act like a child, you get treated like one! None of this would've been necessary if you'd taken the damned antibiotics in the first place. Don't you dare try to make any of us out as the bad guy here 'cause you deserve that title all your own. I'm giving up my free time to stay with you..."

"No one asked you to..." Larabee saw the anger grow to encompass the medic's face and knew he'd said the wrong thing.

Jackson eased the nurse out of the way, he bent at the waist until he was nose to nose with The Firm's leader. "Now you see here, Chris Larabee, I'm not in the mood to put up with your crap. Whether you realize it or not I care about what happens to my friends. Right now you're still in that category, but you keep this up and I can get real frosty, real fast. Understand?"

Larabee was shocked by the outburst and sank further back in the bed. "Nathan?"

"Understand?" Jackson repeated.

"Uh, yeah, Nathan," the blond acquiesced unprepared for the medic's seeming anger.

"Good," Jackson smiled at the pale man. "Now let's see about getting the hep-lock in and getting you home to bed..."

"I don't need to go to bed..."

"You need whatever I say you need. By the time you're ready to go and we pick up your prescription..."

"Prescription?" Larabee frowned.

"That's right. For some strange reason Dr. Murphy feels you should not have to suffer in spite of your actions. She's written a prescription for Tylenol number threes. I've also got to pick up the supply of antibiotics. You know, Chris, this really is being done for your own good, not because we want to make your life a living hell! I'll be back in half an hour. Vin help the stubborn fool get ready," Jackson explained as he walked towards the door."

"Stubborn fool my ass..."

"I heard that, Chris," Jackson smiled as he walked out the door.

"Chris."

Larabee looked up as Vin Tanner came forward. He saw the nurse leave the two of them alone and his shoulders slumped. He met the blue gaze of his best friend and spoke softly. "I know Nate's right, Vin, but..."

"But what?"

"But I hate having to rely on anyone. Shit, he's gonna be like..."

"Like a friend who cares what happens to another friend. Maybe you should say thank you instead of finding ways to piss him off."

"Shit, Tanner," Larabee swore, knowing the younger man was right. "You guys know what I'm like..."

"Oh yeah," Tanner laughed. "When you're sick you're like a chicken with its head cut off. All full of anger and throwing yourself on anyone close enough to get in the way."

"Yuck, Vin, I'm not that bad."

"Oh, yes you are. I've seen you like that, Chris. You don't like admitting you're sick and that you need help. Well, you've got no choice right now. I don't think you're stupid enough to chance getting ARF. That means you go home to your ranch. You eat and drink everything you're given. You smile and say thanks Nate when he hooks you up to the antibiotics or gives you the pain medication..."

"Hell, Tanner, that sounds like a jail sentence!" Larabee snapped.

"I don't doubt it, Cowboy. But it sorta reminds me of that old saying."

"What saying?" Larabee asked suspiciously.

"It's your bed, you made it so now you gotta lie in it. Least I think that's how it goes. In this case it fits."

"Thought you were on my side, Tanner."

"I am, Chris, but sometimes there comes a point where even I can't save you from your own stu..."

"I get the point, Vin!" Larabee hissed as the door opened and Amanda walked back in.

One look at the two men and she knew she'd interrupted something. "Ah, I could come back in a few minutes," she told them.

"No!," Larabee said quickly. "I just want to get outta here before anyone decides I need something else done for my own sake!"

Vin watched as the nurse readied a site on Larabee right forearm for the hep-lock.

Chris kept his eyes averted as the nurse inserted the tiny needle and set the hep-lock in place. He turned his head and watched as she placed a square piece of tape over it to keep it in place, then added thin strips of tape to make sure it wouldn't come out.

"I'm just gonna flush it with Saline to make sure it's working properly," she explained as she inserted a syringe into the hep-lock and ran the saline through it. "There you go, Chris. You can get dressed now while I finish getting your discharge instructions ready."

"Thanks," Larabee said as she walked towards the door.

"You're welcome, Chris."

"Mind closing the curtain while I get changed, Vin?"

"You sure you won't need any help?"

"There's nothing wrong with my arms, Tanner. Keep it up and I'll have to..."

"Shoot me!" Tanner laughed as he pulled the curtain across.

"That's right," Larabee couldn't help but laugh at the sharpshooter's softly spoken words. He knew he'd made the threat to each of his friends on one occasion or another. They also realized it was an empty threat and had quickly made it into a running joke. With Vin Tanner it went a little further in that the younger man would always finish the sentence for him.

By the time Nathan Jackson returned with Amanda and a wheelchair, the blond was ready to leave. He balked at the wheelchair, but a stern look from the medic made him think better of it. He sank into the chair and realized he was tired. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand in an effort to hide a yawn.

"Home and bed, Chris," Tanner said with a grin.

"Not quite," Jackson interrupted. "Home, antibiotics, food, and bed."

"Shoot, Nathan," Larabee hissed.

"Chris..."

"Hell, Nate, you're the boss!"

"Glad to hear you say that, Chris, because you're probably gonna get more than one reprimand before the ten days are up."

"Thanks for the warning," Larabee said as he was wheeled out of the hospital.

---

The drive to the ranch was a quiet one with Tanner at the wheel of the jeep. He kept glancing sideways at the blond, wondering if he was really asleep or ignoring him and Jackson. Something told him it was probably the latter. He glanced in the rear view mirror and would smile as he caught sight of the medic. Jackson's words may have been harsh when he spoke with Larabee, but Tanner knew the man was just worried about their friend. Chris would never admit to needing help. Hell, if it came to that they all did. That's what made them such a tight knit group. He was proud of this family he'd gained when Chris Larabee asked him to join The Firm. He turned into the driveway to Larabee's ranch and heard a sigh from the man sitting beside him.

"Hey, Cowboy, we're home."

Larabee knew the moment the car slowed down to make the turn that he was home. He took a deep breath in spite of the effort it took. He was tired and knew he'd still put up a fight rather than go to bed. It was part of his nature, had been all his life and he wasn't going to change now.

He waited for Tanner to pull to a stop in front of his house before he opened the door. He stretched his long legs out of the car and stood up. He took a deep breath of the clean air and moved away from the car.

"Where are you going, Chris?" Jackson asked.

"Just gonna check on Pony, Nate."

"Alright, you got five minutes while I set up the Antibiotics."

Larabee's eyes showed the shock he felt at Jackson's answer. He'd been ready to fight with the medic, but was pleased he wouldn't have to. "Thanks, Nathan," he smiled as he headed for the barn.

"Five minutes, Chris!" Jackson told the retreating form.

"I hear you," Larabee assured him.

"You're a softie, Nathan," Tanner observed.

Jackson turned an icy gaze on the younger man, but couldn't hold it. He knew Vin was right, he really was soft when it came to his friends. "All I did was let him go see his horse. Hell, it'll take me longer than five minutes to get everything set up!"

"Sure, Nate!" Tanner laughed as he took the supplies from the back of the jeep. The two men carried them into Larabee's spacious house and into the main bedroom.

"I'll get this set up, Vin. You go start lunch," Jackson ordered as he put together the portable IV stand.

"Sure you don't want me to go check on Chris?"

"Not this time, Vin. I want him to know I do trust him." Jackson turned back to the job at hand.

---

Chris smiled as he was greeted by a familiar muzzle rubbed against his face. "Hey, Boy, glad to see you missed me," he laughed as the horse answered with a loud whiney. "It's good to be home. Looks like Vin's been taking good care of you."

He reached for the brush on the hook and slowly ran it through Pony's mane. He could almost hear the joy this gave the animal. He knew his time was up and placed the brush back where it belonged.

"I'll be back later, Boy," he said as he patted the horse's rump. He left the barn and headed for the house. He opened the back door and entered the dining room. He could see Tanner making sandwiches in the kitchen. "Where's Nathan?" he asked.

"In your room," Tanner answered as he looked at the clock. "Looks like you made it just in time."

Larabee couldn't resist a small smile. "Don't want to get in trouble with mom on my first day home," he said.

"Well you'd better get in there before Mom comes looking for a switch," Tanner laughed as Larabee walked towards his bedroom.

"You're all heart, Tanner!" he walked into the bedroom just as Jackson placed the small bag of antibiotics on the IV pole.

"Perfect timing, Chris. Now come over here and we'll get you hooked up." Jackson bit back a smile as Larabee walked towards him. The look on the pale face was more of a person about to eat his last meal before his death sentence was carried out, rather than a man about to receive a simple IV.

Larabee sat on the edge of the bed and watched Jackson open the Hep-lock. He watched as the medic flushed the line and attached the antibiotics.

"Now, Chris, that won't take long to run through so why don't you lie back and rest. I'm going to get your pain medication and a bowl of ice cream."

"I'm not hungry, Nathan," Larabee said as he settled down on top of the blankets.

"Chris..."

"Nathan, I'm just..."

"You're just going to take your pain meds, eat a bowl of ice cream and go to sleep!"

"Oh, hell, alright, Nathan!" he acquiesced. His throat felt terrible and he tried to swallow. He let his eyes close and nearly dosed off.

"Chris?"

Jackson's voice broke through the dregs of sleep and he opened his eyes. He saw the tracker and the medic standing beside the bed. One held his pills and a glass of water. The other held a dish of ice cream.

"Sit up," Jackson ordered. He placed the glass on the table and waited for the blond to sit up. "Here, Chris, take these."

"Nathan..."

"You gotta try, Chris." Jackson watched the shoulders slump as Larabee reached for the Tylenol.

Chris placed them in his mouth and accepted the glass of water from the medic. He set himself for what was to come and took a small mouthful of water. He flinched as soon as the pills and liquid made their way down his throat.

"Shit!" he gasped as his tortured throat reawakened with the onset of the liquid and pills.

"Here, Chris," Tanner said as he handed Larabee the dish of vanilla ice cream.

Larabee waited for his stomach to accept the pills and the water before he took a small taste of the ice cream. It was easier going down this time in spite of the tension in his body.

Jackson and Tanner watched as Larabee fought to get the ice cream down his throat. He managed half of it before his stomach started to churn and he knew he was going to be sick. He lifted tired eyes towards the medic and saw the sympathy in the brown ones looking back at him.

Jackson saw the panic in the green orbs and quickly placed the basin in front of the sick man's mouth. He rubbed the heaving shoulders as Larabee lost the contents of his stomach. He watched as the sharpshooter hurried into the main bathroom and returned with a wet facecloth.

Chris took the wet cloth from Vin and slowly washed his face. He bit back a low groan as he stretched out on the bed. Vomiting had taken the last of his energy and he felt himself drifting towards sleep. He felt someone remove his shoes and the black and white afghan, a recent gift from Nettie Wells, was lifted up over him.

"Thanks," he whispered as he gave himself over to sleep.

"Nathan, should they have let him come home if he's not keeping anything down?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"Actually, Vin, I don't think they could've kept him in any longer. You know how stubborn Chris can be. I think he would've bolted yesterday only Murphy said she would let him go today. I think we're lucky he gave in so easily with the IV. If it keeps up tomorrow I'll mention it to Dr. Murphy. She'll probably recommend a shot of Zofran before he eats. Now why don't we let him sleep."

Tanner watched the medic leave and turned his gaze back to the sleeping man. He shuddered as he thought of how vulnerable his friend seemed at this moment. He straightened the blanket up over the lean form. He drew the heavy drapes across the window and turned out the lamp before joining Jackson in the dining room.

---

Tanner eased the door to the darkened room and slipped inside. He walked to the bed and looked at the sleeping man. Chris' hair was slightly longer than he normally kept it and hung low over his eyes. Vin could still see the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken cheeks that told of Larabee's illness and what it was taking out of him. His eyes wandered to the IV pole and he shook his head. 'Stubborn as a mule,' he thought with a smile.

He walked away from the bed and out the door, easing it closed behind him. He hurried to the kitchen and smiled as Jackson opened the oven. The smell of roast beef filled the house and caused his stomach to grumble. He knew the others were coming out to dinner, there was little doubt they'd want to check on their sick friend.

"Smells good, Nathan."

"Thanks, Vin, how's he doing?" Jackson knew where Tanner had gone, the same place he disappeared every half hour.

"He's still sleeping."

"That's the best thing for him right now, Vin. Probably the best thing for us too."

"I know what you mean. Chris was a little too easy to handle earlier."

"Yeah, which means there'll probably be hell to pay when he wakes up."

"Hopefully the others will be here by then. Figure he's gonna blow up?"

"Well, if not today then tomorrow. We'd better be ready for it when it happens."

"We will be. Can you get the sweet potatoes ready?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

Jackson covered the roast and put it back in the oven. He took off the oven mitts and hung them in the center Island. "No, I think we got it all under control," he said as he prepared the asparagus spears and the tender baby carrots.

---

Chris opened his eyes and looked around the familiar room. His own personal touches were obvious for anyone who saw the room. The walls were painted white, but trimmed with a black border halfway up the wall. The heavy drapes were black with white pinstripes in them. The furniture was stained oak and consisted of a king size bed, two night tables and two dressers. The lamps were brass with gray shades and worked by the touch of a hand. The carpet was the same shade of gray as the lamps, with an oval white rug beside the bed. One wall held pictures of his team on various outings from camping to fishing to relaxing at the July forth picnic held between the Larabee and Tanner ranches. A second wall held pictures and memories of Sarah and Adam Larabee. Two white frames, inlaid in gold held Adam Larabee's first school pictures, the only one that would ever be taken. Two more held pictures of a smiling Sarah and Chris Larabee holding a baby between them. It was snapped in the delivery room and although Sarah was pale her eyes held the light of life as she showed their son to the camera. A blue ribbon with a first place medal hung between the four pictures, a memory from a school picnic where he and Adam won first prize in a three legged race.

Chris smiled as he remembered the day of the picnic. Adam was six at the time and was so proud when he was given the medal. The medal was in Chris' overnight case, given to him by his son for good luck on the trip he was taking with Buck. The day they died, so had his hopes and dreams for the future, until Vin Tanner showed up and literally dragged him from the fires of hell. Chris swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He walked towards the wall and touched the medal. He smiled at the familiar warmth he felt in his body every time he touched this reminder of happier days. He lifted the medal from the wall and held it to his chest as silent tears flowed form his eyes.

'God, I miss you both so much,' he thought as he kissed the tarnished medal and hung it back in its place of honor. He shook off the deep sadness he felt and moved away from the wall.

Chris walked into the large bathroom and looked in the mirror. He frowned at the face looking back at him. The dull green eyes, the stubble covered chin, the sunken cheeks, the dark circles surrounding his eyes belonged to someone he didn't recognize. Pale lips turned up in a smile in spite of the haggard appearance.

"You look like hell, Larabee," he told his reflection. He reached for the pre shave lotion, splashed it on his hands and rubbed it on his face. He picked up his cordless Remington electric shaver and slowly removed the stubble from his face. He felt better once he completed the shave. He looked at the shower and smiled thinly.

'Now that's just what the doctor ordered,' he thought as he pulled the black shirt up over his body, revealing the light colored hair on the taut chest. He shivered in anticipation of a hot massaging shower. He closed the bathroom door and turned the lock. He reached for the clasp on the waist of the black jeans and undid it. he slid them down and sat on the edge of the vanity.

"Shit!" he hissed as a wave of dizziness broke over him. He held onto the edge of the vanity until it passed and finished removing the remainder of his clothing.

Chris slid back the gold emblazoned shower doors and smiled. The doors had been specially made for his birthday the year before. On each smoky window was a black Stallion, rearing up on its hind legs. The manes sprayed back as if a strong wind gusted through it. In the right hand corner of the left door a golden sun shone through a white cloud. The artwork was intricately done and the details on the horses must've taken hours. He stood inside the shower and closed the door. A second wave of dizziness caused him to grab onto the silver railing and took a deep breath. His throat hurt and his stomach rolled.

Ignoring the oncoming nausea he turned on the taps and adjusted the temperature. He pressed the button to turn on the shower and jumped back as the cold spray struck his bare chest. "Son of a bitch!" he swore and waited until the water warmed up before ducking under it. He felt the hot water hit his head and sighed as the hard spray relaxed the kinks in his shoulder and back. His left hand continued to grip the handrail as he fought the dizziness. He relaxed and let the water do what sleep or pain medication hadn't been able to.

---

Vin headed for the bedroom to check on Larabee and knew Jackson was watching him.

"You know he'd probably shoot you if he knew how often you were checking on him?"

"I know, Nathan, but it's not like Chris to sleep this long. Hell, ain't like him to agree to go to bed at all. I'll just peek in and make sure he's okay."

Jackson smiled as the younger man walked down the hallway to Larabee's room. He understood the friendship the two men shared and knew it was something that came along once in a lifetime. It seemed as if the two men were true brothers of the soul.

Vin opened the door and frowned at the empty bed. His ears perked up at the sound of the shower running and he couldn't help but smile. He knew Chris hadn't been allowed to take a shower in the hospital because of the IV. The Hep-Lock made it easier for him to do so.

Vin walked across the room and rapped lightly on the door. "Chris?" he called lightly. He waited a few seconds before repeating the knock. "Chris?"

Larabee heard the second knock and the soft Texan drawl calling his name. "Yeah."

"Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine."

"You need any help?"

"I think I can handle things on this end, Tanner!"

"You sure?"

"Vin!"

"Alright, Chris, holler if you need anything!" the sharpshooter could almost hear Larabee growl as he turned away. He walked back into the living room and sat in the comfortable recliner.

"Is he okay?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just taking a shower," he answered and turned on the TV set. He flicked through the channels with the volume turned down in case his friend called for help.

---

Chris reluctantly reached for the taps and turned off the water. The shower felt great, but he knew if he stayed in any longer he'd come out looking like a prune. He slid the doors open and stepped onto the white area rug. "Whoa!" he hissed and eased onto the stool sitting in the corner. He remained seated and dried his hair, relishing the tingling feeling of a clean scalp. He dried his body and reached for a new towel hanging on the rack. He wrapped it around his waist and tied it on the side.

'Almost feel human again,' he thought as he reached for his toothbrush. Two minutes later he rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth and took a clean glass from the dispenser. The back of his throat felt raw and he groaned as he swished the water around the inside of his mouth. He spit the water down the drain and refilled the glass. 'What the hell's wrong with you? Don't be such a coward! It's only water for fuck sake!' he poured the liquid into his mouth and swallowed before his mind had a chance to register what he'd done.

His chest heaved as he fought back the resulting nausea. "Shit!" he swore and leaned over the toilet.

He could hear someone knocking at the door and then a worried voice asking if he was okay. He knew it was Jackson, but he was too sick to answer. Dry heaves plagued him as a second voice joined the first. He took a deep breath and leaned his head against the cool wall beside the toilet.

"I'm okay," he assured his friends, not at all sure he was okay.

"Open the door, Chris," Jackson ordered.

"Just give me a second, Nathan," Larabee muttered as the nausea finally subsided. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. He opened it and smiled sheepishly at the two men. "Sorry."

"What happened?" Jackson asked.

"Tried to drink some water. Hurt like a son of a bitch going down, but felt even worse coming back up," Larabee rasped.

"I bet it did," Tanner said.

"But, hey, least I had a shower."

"Good thing!" Vin told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was starting to smell pretty ripe whenever I stood next to you."

"Well you know what they say, Tanner."

"What's that, Larabee?"

"Every skunk smells its own stink!"

"Okay, you two, that's enough. Chris, you look a little pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Nathan. What time is it anyway?" Larabee asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Almost five thirty," the medic asked.

"Shit! I slept all day! Why the hell didn't you guys wake me?"

"What for, Chris? You needed the rest. You look like you still do."

"Thanks, Vin, that's just what I wanted to hear."

"Chris, the others will be here in an hour. Why don't you get dressed and I'll get your antibiotics set up for you. Do you need the..."

"No thanks, Nathan. I don't need the Tylenol," Larabee assured him.

"Alright, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Larabee just nodded and reached for the clothes Tanner handed him. "I didn't know I hired a maid, Vin."

"You didn't, Chris. Just being a friend."

The blond smiled and nodded as he placed the clothes on the bed beside him. "I know," he said simply.

Tanner eased the door to the darkened room and slipped inside. He walked to the bed and looked at the sleeping man. Chris' hair was slightly longer than he normally kept it and hung low over his eyes. Vin could still see the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken cheeks that told of Larabee's illness and what it was taking out of him. His eyes wandered to the IV pole and he shook his head. 'Stubborn as a mule,' he thought with a smile.

He walked away from the bed and out the door, easing it closed behind him. He hurried to the kitchen and smiled as Jackson opened the oven. The smell of roast beef filled the house and caused his stomach to grumble. He knew the others were coming out to dinner, there was little doubt they'd want to check on their sick friend.

"Smells good, Nathan."

"Thanks, Vin, how's he doing?" Jackson knew where Tanner had gone, the same place he disappeared every half hour.

"He's still sleeping."

"That's the best thing for him right now, Vin. Probably the best thing for us too."

"I know what you mean. Chris was a little too easy to handle earlier."

"Yeah, which means there'll probably be hell to pay when he wakes up."

"Hopefully the others will be here by then. Figure he's gonna blow up?"

"Well, if not today then tomorrow. We'd better be ready for it when it happens."

"We will be. Can you get the sweet potatoes ready?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

Jackson covered the roast and put it back in the oven. He took off the oven mitts and hung them in the center Island. "No, I think we got it all under control," he said as he prepared the asparagus spears and the tender baby carrots.

---

Chris opened his eyes and looked around the familiar room. His own personal touches were obvious for anyone who saw the room. The walls were painted white, but trimmed with a black border halfway up the wall. The heavy drapes were black with white pinstripes in them. The furniture was stained oak and consisted of a king size bed, two night tables and two dressers. The lamps were brass with gray shades and worked by the touch of a hand. The carpet was the same shade of gray as the lamps, with an oval white rug beside the bed. One wall held pictures of his team on various outings from camping to fishing to relaxing at the July forth picnic held between the Larabee and Tanner ranches. A second wall held pictures and memories of Sarah and Adam Larabee. Two white frames, inlaid in gold held Adam Larabee's first school pictures, the only one that would ever be taken. Two more held pictures of a smiling Sarah and Chris Larabee holding a baby between them. It was snapped in the delivery room and although Sarah was pale her eyes held the light of life as she showed their son to the camera. A blue ribbon with a first place medal hung between the four pictures, a memory from a school picnic where he and Adam won first prize in a three legged race.

Chris smiled as he remembered the day of the picnic. Adam was six at the time and was so proud when he was given the medal. The medal was in Chris' overnight case, given to him by his son for good luck on the trip he was taking with Buck. The day they died, so had his hopes and dreams for the future, until Vin Tanner showed up and literally dragged him from the fires of hell. Chris swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He walked towards the wall and touched the medal. He smiled at the familiar warmth he felt in his body every time he touched this reminder of happier days. He lifted the medal from the wall and held it to his chest as silent tears flowed form his eyes.

'God, I miss you both so much,' he thought as he kissed the tarnished medal and hung it back in its place of honor. He shook off the deep sadness he felt and moved away from the wall.

Chris walked into the large bathroom and looked in the mirror. He frowned at the face looking back at him. The dull green eyes, the stubble covered chin, the sunken cheeks, the dark circles surrounding his eyes belonged to someone he didn't recognize. Pale lips turned up in a smile in spite of the haggard appearance.

"You look like hell, Larabee," he told his reflection. He reached for the pre shave lotion, splashed it on his hands and rubbed it on his face. He picked up his cordless Remington electric shaver and slowly removed the stubble from his face. He felt better once he completed the shave. He looked at the shower and smiled thinly.

'Now that's just what the doctor ordered,' he thought as he pulled the black shirt up over his body, revealing the light colored hair on the taut chest. He shivered in anticipation of a hot massaging shower. He closed the bathroom door and turned the lock. He reached for the clasp on the waist of the black jeans and undid it. he slid them down and sat on the edge of the vanity.

"Shit!" he hissed as a wave of dizziness broke over him. He held onto the edge of the vanity until it passed and finished removing the remainder of his clothing.

Chris slid back the gold emblazoned shower doors and smiled. The doors had been specially made for his birthday the year before. On each smoky window was a black Stallion, rearing up on its hind legs. The manes sprayed back as if a strong wind gusted through it. In the right hand corner of the left door a golden sun shone through a white cloud. The artwork was intricately done and the details on the horses must've taken hours. He stood inside the shower and closed the door. A second wave of dizziness caused him to grab onto the silver railing and took a deep breath. His throat hurt and his stomach rolled.

Ignoring the oncoming nausea he turned on the taps and adjusted the temperature. He pressed the button to turn on the shower and jumped back as the cold spray struck his bare chest. "Son of a bitch!" he swore and waited until the water warmed up before ducking under it. He felt the hot water hit his head and sighed as the hard spray relaxed the kinks in his shoulder and back. His left hand continued to grip the handrail as he fought the dizziness. He relaxed and let the water do what sleep or pain medication hadn't been able to.

---

Vin headed for the bedroom to check on Larabee and knew Jackson was watching him.

"You know he'd probably shoot you if he knew how often you were checking on him?"

"I know, Nathan, but it's not like Chris to sleep this long. Hell, ain't like him to agree to go to bed at all. I'll just peek in and make sure he's okay."

Jackson smiled as the younger man walked down the hallway to Larabee's room. He understood the friendship the two men shared and knew it was something that came along once in a lifetime. It seemed as if the two men were true brothers of the soul.

Vin opened the door and frowned at the empty bed. His ears perked up at the sound of the shower running and he couldn't help but smile. He knew Chris hadn't been allowed to take a shower in the hospital because of the IV. The Hep-Lock made it easier for him to do so.

Vin walked across the room and rapped lightly on the door. "Chris?" he called lightly. He waited a few seconds before repeating the knock. "Chris?"

Larabee heard the second knock and the soft Texan drawl calling his name. "Yeah."

"Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine."

"You need any help?"

"I think I can handle things on this end, Tanner!"

"You sure?"

"Vin!"

"Alright, Chris, holler if you need anything!" the sharpshooter could almost hear Larabee growl as he turned away. He walked back into the living room and sat in the comfortable recliner.

"Is he okay?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just taking a shower," he answered and turned on the TV set. He flicked through the channels with the volume turned down in case his friend called for help.

---

Chris reluctantly reached for the taps and turned off the water. The shower felt great, but he knew if he stayed in any longer he'd come out looking like a prune. He slid the doors open and stepped onto the white area rug. "Whoa!" he hissed and eased onto the stool sitting in the corner. He remained seated and dried his hair, relishing the tingling feeling of a clean scalp. He dried his body and reached for a new towel hanging on the rack. He wrapped it around his waist and tied it on the side.

'Almost feel human again,' he thought as he reached for his toothbrush. Two minutes later he rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth and took a clean glass from the dispenser. The back of his throat felt raw and he groaned as he swished the water around the inside of his mouth. He spit the water down the drain and refilled the glass. 'What the hell's wrong with you? Don't be such a coward! It's only water for fuck sake!' he poured the liquid into his mouth and swallowed before his mind had a chance to register what he'd done.

His chest heaved as he fought back the resulting nausea. "Shit!" he swore and leaned over the toilet.

He could hear someone knocking at the door and then a worried voice asking if he was okay. He knew it was Jackson, but he was too sick to answer. Dry heaves plagued him as a second voice joined the first. He took a deep breath and leaned his head against the cool wall beside the toilet.

"I'm okay," he assured his friends, not at all sure he was okay.

"Open the door, Chris," Jackson ordered.

"Just give me a second, Nathan," Larabee muttered as the nausea finally subsided. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. He opened it and smiled sheepishly at the two men. "Sorry."

"What happened?" Jackson asked.

"Tried to drink some water. Hurt like a son of a bitch going down, but felt even worse coming back up," Larabee rasped.

"I bet it did," Tanner said.

"But, hey, least I had a shower."

"Good thing!" Vin told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was starting to smell pretty ripe whenever I stood next to you."

"Well you know what they say, Tanner."

"What's that, Larabee?"

"Every skunk smells its own stink!"

"Okay, you two, that's enough. Chris, you look a little pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Nathan. What time is it anyway?" Larabee asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Almost five thirty," the medic asked.

"Shit! I slept all day! Why the hell didn't you guys wake me?"

"What for, Chris? You needed the rest. You look like you still do."

"Thanks, Vin, that's just what I wanted to hear."

"Chris, the others will be here in an hour. Why don't you get dressed and I'll get your antibiotics set up for you. Do you need the..."

"No thanks, Nathan. I don't need the Tylenol," Larabee assured him.

"Alright, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Larabee just nodded and reached for the clothes Tanner handed him. "I didn't know I hired a maid, Vin."

"You didn't, Chris. Just being a friend."

The blond smiled and nodded as he placed the clothes on the bed beside him. "I know," he said simply.

---

Jackson picked up the phone and called Murphy's answering service. It didn't take long for her to call him back.

"What's going on Nathan?"

"Chris is still unable to hold anything down."

"Has he tried to eat or drink anything?"

"Yeah. He ate some ice cream earlier and drank some water, but it didn't stay in his stomach very long."

"How's he doing pain wise? If he's unable to keep anything down then the Tylenol won't do him any good."

"Yeah, well, Chris wouldn't admit to the pain if we asked."

"Alright, Nathan, I'm going to be at the hospital for another hour. Can you have one of the others come by to pick up some supplies. I think it's best if we run a bag or two of fluids into him. I'll also have Zofran for you to give him through the IV. But, Nathan?"

"Yeah, Doc."

"If he doesn't start eating and drinking on his own soon he's gonna end up back in here."

"I know, Doc. I'll call Buck and have him stop by."

"Watch him, Nathan and make sure he keeps trying to drink."

"I will, Doc. Thanks," he hung up and dialed Wilmington's number, hoping he'd catch him before he left to come out to the ranch. He smiled as the ladies' man picked up the phone. He explained what needed to be done and then sat back on the couch as Larabee and Tanner came into the room. One look at Larabee's face and he knew he'd heard some of the conversation with Buck. 'This is gonna be the longest ten days of my life,' he thought.

"You heard?"

"Most of it," Larabee hissed as he forced the words through his abused throat. "Hell, Nathan..."

"Don't start, Chris. You know as well as I do how little you've been getting to eat or drink..."

"Hell, Nate, it's not like he isn't tryin'!" Tanner explained.

The medic stood up and faced the two men. "Don't you think I know that, Vin? I've seen him trying and I know how much pain he's in. I also know he's too damn stubborn to admit it!"

"But he's always been that way, Nate!"

"Well 'he' is in this room," Larabee said as he realized the two men were arguing about him. "Nathan, I know you're doing what needs to be done and I do appreciate it. It's just that..."

"You hate someone else having control of your life," Jackson finished.

"Yeah," Larabee said as he sat in his favorite recliner. He saw the IV pole set up next to it and placed his arm on the chair. He watched as Jackson hooked the tubing to the heplock in his arm. He reached for the remote on the opposite arm and flicked on the TV. He surfed through the channels as Vin took a seat on the couch.

Nathan finished connecting the IV and checked to make sure it was running properly. "There, you're all set," he said.

"Thanks," Larabee said as he dropped his hand into his lap and continued through the channels.

Nathan walked towards the kitchen and checked on the meal. He knew Chris wasn't going to eat it, but he had a gallon of Vanilla ice cream in the freezer. He was hopeful that Larabee would try to eat it again.

Chris stopped on an old TV series and smiled as the young man on the couch groaned. "What's the problem, Tanner? This show's a classic."

"Yeah right! Old cars are classics, Chris, this is..."

"Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea is a great show. At least it was until they brought in all those monsters and aliens. Oh, this is a good one..."

"There are no good..."

"You have no taste, Vin. This is good. A classic thriller. Captain Crane's supposed to be alone on the Seaview, but there's an unknown spy on board."

"Ah, hell, Chris there's gotta be something better than that on."

"Nothing better than this," Larabee said as he settled down to watch the black and white show.

"I think I'll go help Nathan with dinner," the sharpshooter said as he stood up.

"No taste, Tanner," Larabee smiled as the sharpshooter left the room. Chris settled back in the chair, enjoying the show he'd watched in his childhood.

---

Chris looked up as the show ended and the door to his house opened. He smiled tiredly at the four men who came through the door. Jackson had already unhooked the antibiotic drip and closed off the heplock.

"Hey, is that Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea?" Wilmington asked as he hurried to the couch, and placed the hospital supplies beside him.

"Just over, Buck," Larabee told him.

"Ah, hell, I keep missing the show. The damn networks should put it on at a decent hour!"

"Dinner's on the table," Jackson called to the men.

"Coming, Chris?" the ladies' man asked.

"Nah, you guys go ahead."

"Buck, did you bring the supplies from Doctor Murphy?"

"Yeah, I got 'em right here, Nate!" the ladies' man answered as he picked up the bag and headed for the dining room.

"How are you doing, Brother?" Sanchez asked as he sat across from the blond.

"I'm okay, Josiah, just hate feeling like this."

"I bet you do. I had my tonsils out when I was thirty, Chris, so I know exactly what you're going through. I bet right now you think things will never get any better and someone will always be harping on you to drink this or eat that."

Larabee smiled at being read so easily by the older man. "Yeah, that's it exactly, Josiah. I've never been one to take orders."

"That's an understatement, Chris," Sanchez said as he placed his hand on Larabee's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "All I ask is that you keep trying."

"I will," Larabee assured him as he heard a commotion in the kitchen and the sound of the blender starting up. "What the hell is going on?" he asked and stood up too quickly. He smiled in gratitude as Sanchez gripped his arm in a steadying hold. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now why don't you join us in the dining room?" He held up his arms to stop the protests. "I know you don't feel up to eating, but it would be good for you. I stopped at that specialty store and picked up some of that Creamy French Vanilla Ice cream you like so much."

Chris smiled thinly and nodded. The two men walked into the dining room and Chris frowned at the laughter coming from the kitchen. He turned to walk through the open arch, but Josiah eased him down in his regular chair.

"You stay here and I'll see what's going on."

Larabee nodded gratefully and rubbed his tired eyes. He heard the others talking in the kitchen and looked up as Nathan came in carrying a tray. He could smell the delicious aroma of roast beef and vegetables. "Smells good, Nathan," he said softly.

"Feel like trying some?" Jackson asked as he placed the tray on the placemats in the center of the table.

"No! Thanks, Nathan, but right now my throat couldn't handle it."

"Do you need something for pain, Chris?"

"Not much point in taking it."

"Well, Doctor Murphy sent something that might help. I can give it to you through the heplock."

"What is it?"

"Morphine and Zofran, you've had them before. I can give it to you right now if your stomach is bothering you."

"It's okay right now."

"Hey, Stud, I got just what the doctor ordered right here!" Wilmington said as he walked into the dining room.

Larabee recognized the look on Wilmington's face and knew something was up. He shook his head as he realized his friend held something behind his back. "What are you talking about, Buck?"

"We all know how much you love Nathan's roast..."

"Now hold on, Buck, I had nothing to do with this!" Dunne said from behind the ladies' man.

"Mr. Dunne is correct, Mr. Larabee. Mr. Wilmington's use of the word we is farfetched. This so called 'idea is all his and I think he should put up with the consequences of his actions. Shall I purchase some tar and feathers."

"Cowards!" the ladies' man said as he stood in front of his friend. "I would like to present you..."

"Buck..."

"With the specialty..."

"Wilmington..."

"Of the house..."

"Shit!" Larabee hissed knowing something was up.

"A roast beef gravy shake a la Buck!" the ladies' man placed the tall glass filled with a thick brownish liquid in front of the blond.

Chris fought back the rising nausea, even as a smile crossed his face. "Shit, Buck! That's....that's just...

"What the doctor ordered," the ladies' man said with a grin.

"Gross!" Dunne observed.

"Ah, Kid, ya hurt my feelings," Wilmington said as he smiled at Larabee. "Are you gonna try it, Chris?"

"Not fucking likely, Buck!"

"Oh, come on. I made it 'specially for you, Pard. I even made sure it was extra finely pureed."

"Buck!"

Wilmington ignored Larabee's sharply spoken word. "I threw in sweet potatoes, baby carrots, had to put them in 'cause ya don't wanna have to get glasses, and a nice thick piece..."

"I'm gonna puke," Larabee hissed as he listened to his long time friend's explanation of what was in the 'shake'.

Jackson noticed Larabee really did look unwell and he put a stop to Wilmington's attempt to make the team leader laugh. "Buck, I think you'd better give it up." He turned to the blond, "Chris, why don't you go lie down for a while?"

"I'm fine Nathan," Larabee said. "You guy go ahead and eat."

"All right, I'll get you some of the ice cream Josiah brought."

"Ah, hell, now what do I do with this excellent liquid dinner?" Wilmington asked and jumped as six voices shouted.

"Drink the damn thing yourself!"

"No way!" The ladies' man stated and hurried into the kitchen to get rid of the congealing mass.

Chris smiled weakly at the five men still in the dining room. He knew they were worried about him, and he was grateful for their concern, yet there was nothing he could do to put their minds at ease. Wilmington returned and took the seat at the opposite end of the table.

"Dinner's getting cold," he told them and smiled as his words had the desired effect and they started helping themselves to the meal the medic and the tracker spent so much time preparing. He watched as Jackson went into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a small dish of ice cream and placed it before him.

"Thanks, Nathan," he said as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. He let the creamy cold ice cream melt in his mouth and forced himself to swallow in spite of the sharp pain it caused.

"You okay, Chris?" Dunne asked as he lifted a piece of the roast beef and placed it on his plate.

"F...fine, Kid," the blond answered, but knew the others didn't believe him.

"Let me know if you need anything, Chris," Jackson said.

"Need you guys to stop staring at me and enjoy the dinner," Larabee told them as he put a second spoon of the creamy melting ice cream into his mouth. His stomach continued to churn and he finally pushed the dish away from him.

"Chris..."

"Not right now, Nathan," the blond hissed, standing up and hurrying from the dining room, leaving six men watching his hasty retreat.

Vin stood up and hurried after the blond. He knew the others were as worried he was about Chris Larabee, yet there was nothing he could say to relieve that worry. He walked into the bedroom, and stopped as he heard the tell tale sounds of the older man being sick in the bathroom. He stood his ground and waited until he heard the toilet flushing before knocking on the door.

Chris knew who knocked at the door, but he washed his face with warm water before opening it.

"Sorry, didn't want to ruin things for you guys."

"Jesus, Chris, you're not ruining anything."

"Seems like this kids' illness is wiping me out, Vin."

"I can see that, but ya know the doctor said it's a lot harder on an adult. Why don't you lie down for a while?"

"Not yet..."

"Chris."

The blond looked over the sharpshooter's shoulder and saw the medic standing just inside his bedroom.

"I'm okay, Nathan, just don't feel like eating anything right now," the blond said, easing past the tracker and making his way to the bed. He sat on the edge of the hard mattress and used his right hand to rub at the base of his neck. His body ached from top to bottom, and he knew if he stretched out on the bed he'd be hard pressed to get up again. He didn't want to sleep while his friends were here to visit, plenty of time for that when they went home.

"No, you're not, but you will be if you let me do what Dr. Murphy ordered. You really do need the fluids, Chris." Jackson told him.

"Shit!" the blond said, hating the way he felt and the need to lean so heavily on his friends.

"It won't be for long, Chris," the sharpshooter told him as he sat next to him on the bed.

"Why don't you lie back and I'll set up the IV?"

"Can we do it in the living room, Nate?"

Jackson smiled and nodded as his boss stood on shaky legs. He knew the Texan was standing close in case he was needed. Once in the other room he opened a bag of IV solution and hooked it on the pole. He smiled as Larabee walked towards him and sat in the recliner. He took a syringe and ran a small amount of fluid into the heplock before attaching the tubing.

"Chris, I'm gonna give you the Zofran to help with the nausea..."

"Okay," the blond said, resigned to needing the medication.

"Also gonna give you a little morphine to ease the pain."

"Dammit..."

"Chris, don't argue..."

"Not arguing with you, Nathan," the sick man said and relaxed in the chair.

"Good, bout time you realized you don't need to be so damn tough all the time," Tanner told him.

"You're one to talk," the blond hissed. He felt the IV flow into his arm and watched as Jackson prepared to inject the second medications.

"There, Chris, that should make you feel a little better," the medic told him

"Thanks, Nate...sorry for being such a pain..."

"In the ass!" the tracker finished.

"Thanks, Vin, you're all heart. Why don't you to go eat before Buck and JD eat it all."

"You gonna be alright here by yourself?"

"Yeah, just pass me the remote..."

"Ah, hell, Chris tell me you're not gonna watch that show again?" Tanner said as Jackson checked the flow on the IV before leaving the two men alone.

"Show's good, Vin. IA just had a few problems that he was too stubborn to admit too. Richard Basehart and David Hedison were excellent in the roles of Nelson and Crane."

"Yeah, well, gimme Scooby Doo any day," the tracker said and smiled at the look on Larabee's face.

"Go eat!" the blond said and started channel surfing. It wasn't long be fore he heard the others' talking in the kitchen and he smiled as Buck started telling the younger men the premise behind Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. He finally settled on a base ball game and settled into the chair. He could feel the morphine taking effect and realized it wouldn't take much for him to fall asleep.

---

"Look at Sleeping Beauty," Dunne said as they walked into the living room.

"If he hears you saying that, Kid, you'll be cleaning out the stalls for a month," Wilmington said.

"You call him that all the time," the youngest member of the team said.

"Yeah, but I'm bigger than he is," the scoundrel said.

"Still take you down, Buck," Larabee smiled and opened his eyes.

"Hey, Chris," Dunne said.

"Hey, Kid, you and me need to have a talk..."

"Ah, Chris, I was just kidding," the Bostonian answered swiftly.

Larabee smiled at the chagrined look on the JD's face and smiled.

"I know," he said softly and was glad when the easterner's face relaxed into a smile.

"Well, Stud, we were just about to head out," Wilmington said.

"What time is it?" Larabee asked as he sat forward in the recliner.

"A little after eight," Standish answered. "You were sleeping and we thought it best not to interrupt your repose."

"Sorry, boys, I'm not very good company right now."

"That's understandable, Brother. You just rest and get well," Sanchez said.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, Buck."

"I'll be back in the morning to make you an omelet shake that'll be to die for," the ladies' man waggled his eyebrows as the blond groaned.

"Buck, that sounds like something that probably would kill him," Jackson said.

"What the hell are you talking about, Nathan?" the scoundrel asked, a mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes.

"An omelet shake, Buck?" Tanner pretended to gag at the thought.

"Ah, hell, you guys are just plain cruel. I was talking about egg nog."

"Sure you were," Larabee said, swaying slightly as he stood up too fast.

"Easy there, Pard," Tanner said as he grabbed his arm, and frowned as the blond sat back down.

"Thanks, Vin."

"You're welcome. Where were you headed?"

"To throw out the blender."

"Ain't nothing wrong with the blender, Stud, so why would you throw it out?" Wilmington asked.

"To stop you from making anymore of your special shakes!" the kid answered and they laughed as Larabee nodded.

"Ah, you wound me!" the scoundrel said and placed a hand over his heart.

Larabee looked at his friend and smiled. "You make anymore of those s...shakes and I just might!"

"Shit, Pard..."

"That's probably what they taste like," Jackson said.

"Come on, Buck, the galloping gourmet you're not," Sanchez said.

"The what?" Vin asked.

"Never mind, Vin, it was before your time," Wilmington answered.

"Must've been made when you were a kid back in the thirties, Buck," Dunne said.

"Oh, Kid, you know you're gonna pay for that one!" the ladies' man said and began chasing the younger man.

"Okay, Children, I think it's time we let Chris get some rest," Sanchez said as they watched the antics of the two friends. He turned a serious gaze on the sick man and patted his shoulder. "Chris you take care and do as Nathan says!"

"I will, Josiah, thanks for coming by. Is everything alright at the office?" Larabee asked.

"Everything's fine. Ezra finished the reports on the Decker case and turned them over to Orrin."

"Hell, Orrin must've been surprised to get those early," Tanner said.

"I bet. What about the Carter business?" the blond asked.

"We're working on it. Jason Carter is being stubborn about his wife's refusal to give into his wishes," Wilmington said.

"I can't blame the woman. She suffered enough at his hands," Jackson said of the wife beater.

"Has he had any contact with her?" the tracker asked.

"No, she's at the shelter with her children. He's not allowed within a mile of her location and he won't violate that. The judge has already threatened him with jail if he does."

"The bastard deserves to do jail time!" Larabee hissed, remembering the bruises that dominated the young woman's face.

"He will, Chris...plenty of it," the gambler said seriously.

"Alright, that's enough about work!" the medic told them.

"Nathan, I'm..."

"Chris, you're on sick leave and I aim to make sure you get the rest you need. No more talk about work, at least not tonight."

"We'd better go," Wilmington said. "We have an early meeting with Orrin and the DA."

"Let me know what happens," Larabee ordered as he stood once more. He held tightly to the IV pole and walked his friends to the door.

"We will, Chris. You just get some sleep."

"I will, Josiah. Thanks for coming out, Boys. Sorry I wasn't better company," Larabee said. He stood in the doorway until they drove out of his yard and sighed heavily as he walked to the porch swing and sat down.

"Need anything, Chris?" Jackson asked as he checked the flow of the IV.

Larabee smiled as he looked at the medic. "Whiskey?"

"Hell, No! Don't even think about it, Chris."

"Shit, Nate, you tell me to drink and..."

"You drink whiskey, Chris, and it'll be the sorriest thing you ever done! Even the good stuff you buy would feel like fire on your throat!" Jackson saw the twinkle in the green orbs and knew his friend was teasing him. "Seriously, Chris, don't touch anything with alcohol in it. At least not until the doctor tells you it's safe."

"I won't, Nathan."

Tanner saw the look on Larabee's face and realized the blond was sincere, at least for now. He knew things would probably change as the blond's confinement continued. Chris Larabee was not a patient man and once he began to heal he would be chomping at the bit to get out from under Jackson's care. He walked into the yard and made his way towards the barn to make sure Pony and Peso were okay.

Chris watched the younger man leave and closed his eyes. He admitted to himself that the fluids entering his arm made him feel better, almost human again. He set the swing in motion and soon felt his mind drifting back over the last week. He knew he'd been unreasonable most of the time. If he was honest he'd have to admit to being a royal pain in the ass, to not only the doctors and nurses, but his friends as well. He felt Jackson watching him and he opened tired eyes.

"I think I owe all of you an apology," he whispered softly.

"Well, I'm glad you realize we are trying to help, Chris," the medic said.

"I know that. Shit, you boys should know how..."

"Ornery, cantankerous, stubborn, hard to live with..."

"Jesus, Nathan," Larabee hissed. "Am I really that bad?"

"When you're sick and don't things don't go the way you want them to," Jackson explained.

"Shit, thought that's why we all get along so well," the blond said, a small cocky grin on his pale face.

"What?"

"We're all made from the same mode. Don't think there's one man amongst the seven of us who likes being down and we tend to voice our feelings."

"Yeah, that you do," the medic said, adjusting the flow of the IV once more. He saw the green eyes close once more and knew, despite the man's protests, he was still tired. "Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't I help you to your room and you can get some sleep?"

"Think I'll sit out here for a while, Nate."

"Chris..."

"Come on, Nathan, It's a beautiful night and I'm not all that tired yet."

"Alright," Jackson said and went into the house.

Chris continued to ease the swing back and forth, content with feeling the fresh air on his skin. His eyes snapped open and he glared at the man tucking a blanket around him.

"Nathan!" he hissed.

"Chris, you just got out of the hospital and I don't want you getting sick," Jackson warned.

"Not gonna get sick. Hell, it's hot enough out here without the damn blanket," the blond grumbled as the medic finished securing the blanket around his legs.

Nathan reached out and touched Larabee's forehead, searching for any sign of the lingering fever he'd had while in the hospital.

Chris pulled away and glared at his friend. "Nathan, I don't need a mother hen!"

"Humor me, okay? Right now we're all worried about you, Chris. So you might as well get used to having us mother hens looking out for you as it seems you're not doing it for yourself. Now how about trying something to drink?" the medic saw the eyes light up and shook his head.

"Don't even think about asking!"

"Didn't say a word..."

"No, but you were going to and I can just imagine what those words..."

"Hey, Vin, how are Pony and Peso?" Larabee asked grateful at the younger man's return, as it gave him a chance to change the subject.

"They're fine," Tanner answered, his eyes drifting to the blanket tucked around his friend. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, Nathan's just in full mother hen mode," Larabee answered.

"Ah..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jackson asked the tracker.

"What?" the sharpshooter asked innocently.

"Ah...why do you guys say that when I'm trying to..."

"Nathan," Larabee called. "It's not that we don't appreciate you...it's just the way we are. Hell what would you do if we didn't complain? You'd have us bundled up and racing to the hospital...or think we'd been taken over by aliens or something."

Jackson smiled as he answered simply. "Probably."

"Well this is all your fault," the tracker told him.

"How so?" Jackson asked.

"If we don't complain you think we're sick. At least this way we get to complain and you get to put your mother hen instincts to good use," Tanner said and smiled as Larabee agreed with him.

"Okay, well, guess you boys will just have to put up with me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Larabee assured him and saw the look of pride on the medic's face.

"None of us would, Nathan," the sharpshooter agreed.

They stayed outside for another fifteen minutes and Chris knew the time had come for him to go inside. He pulled back the blanket and placed it on the seat next to him. He used the pole to pull himself up and smiled weakly at the two men.

"Well, guess I'm heading in. You boys lock up," the blond said tiredly.

"You alright, Chris?" Tanner asked.

"Yeah, just tired," the older man said as he headed inside. He walked towards his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed at his temples with his left arm and slid back on the bed. He felt someone watching him and looked towards the door.

"I'm okay, Nathan. Just gonna rest for a while."

"Why don't you get right into bed, Chris. You'll feel a lot better once you're under the blankets."

"It's still early..."

"Not really. It's almost ten o'clock..."

"Early."

"Not when you're recovery from surgery and complications," the medic told him. "Now come on and I'll give you a hand out of that shirt."

Chris sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and watched as the concerned man lifted the IV bag from the pole and fed it through the sleeve.

"You want a t-shirt or something to put on?"

"Yeah...t-shirts in the top drawer," the blond said as Jackson replaced the bag on the pole. Chris felt as if he'd never feel well again as his friend eased him into the shirt. "Thanks, Nathan, I can handle it from here," he said and waited for the medic to leave him alone. Once Jackson was out of the room he eased out of the jeans and tiredly pulled back the blankets. He lay back against the pillow and pulled them up over his aching body.

Half an hour later, Vin Tanner opened the door and eased into the room. The light spilled over from the dim lamp and he knew his friend was asleep. He reached for the blankets and covered him to the shoulders, smiled as Larabee turned on his side and mumbled a few unintelligible words. Vin looked at the half full bag hanging from the pole before turning out the light and leaving the blond alone.

---

Chris woke up to the sun streaming in through the open window. He vaguely remembered Jackson coming into the room and unhooking the IV around four am. He touched his throat and tried to swallow, remembering clearly the attempt to drink the water the medic insisted he try. He managed to drink a small amount, but the burning, needle like pain in his throat caused rivers of sweat to form on his brow and he shook his head when the younger man tried to coax him to take more.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at the clock on the table and saw it was eight fifteen am. Slowly he stood up, grabbing at the small table in an effort to stop the room form spinning. He knew Jackson was probably fiddling around in the kitchen, looking for something to entice him to drink. Sighing heavily he made his way to the bathroom and peeled off the t-shirt and Calvin Klein underwear. He flicked on the overhead heating lamp and turned the shower on, making sure the water was hot enough to ease the chill he felt settling in his bones. He stepped through the glass doors and stood under the needling spray, letting it warm his body from the outside in.

---

Nathan heard the shower go on and looked at the clock. He knew Larabee did not mean to be difficult, but the truth was, the man needed to start drinking on a regular basis or he'd end up back in the hospital. He looked in the freezer and found the ice cream Josiah brought with him the night before. He pulled out the blender and shivered as he thought of the shake Wilmington prepared for Larabee the night before.

'No wonder you got sick,' he thought. Wilmington would always find something to bring to a sick friend, yet sometimes those gifts were on the exotic side. The ladies' man was like a magnet when it came to finding food in a particular shape of the female body. The man never let up, and for that Jackson was grateful. He may be the man who knew something about the medical treatments, but Buck was the man who knew how to make a someone laugh. His lighthearted humor was harmless and often led to a smile from whoever happened to be sick or hurting at the time. He set up the blender and set up to make a simple French vanilla milkshake.

---

Chris felt better as he turned off the needle like spray and stepped out onto the mat. He reached for a towel on the rack and slowly towelled his hair dry. He grabbed a second towel and used it on his chest, back legs, and buttocks. Once dry he reached for a third one and wrapped the tiny covering around his waist. He reached for his comb and fixed his hair, before turning off the heating lamp and walking into his bedroom. He went to his dresser and grabbed a pair of cream colored shorts and a white t-shirt. He looked up as a knock came on the door.

"Chris, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Nathan. Just getting dressed."

"Alright, when you're ready I've got your IV set up and breakfast ready."

Larabee took a deep breath and continued dressing. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Okay," the medic said and walked back into the kitchen. He sat at the center island and poured himself a cup of coffee. He kept looking at the clock as time passed, waiting for the blond to make an appearance. He looked at the glass of vanilla milkshake sitting in front of Larabee's chair and hoped the older man would be able to drink it. Jackson thought about what his boss was going through and understood the pain he was in. Not only had the tonsils been removed, but an abscess had also formed and needed to be drained. He looked towards the living room as he heard soft footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

Chris didn't miss the lines of worry on the medic's face, nor did he miss the white liquid sitting on the table where he normally sat. His stomach churned and his throat seemed to close over at the thought of drinking the shake. He walked dejectedly towards the center island and sat down.

Nathan stood and walked around the island and hooked up the antibiotics. He made sure it was running properly and moved back to his own chair. The medic remained silent, watching the blond as his fingers wrapped around the misty glass.

Chris could feel Jackson watching him, but kept looking into the glass of liquid. 'How can it be this hard to take a fucking drink!' he thought. He picked up the glass and placed it before his lips.

Jackson watched hopefully as Larabee picked up the milkshake and lifted it towards his mouth. He didn't realize he was crossing his fingers until the blond took a long drink from the glass and swallowed it. he watched as the Adam's Apple worked, the hands went to the throat and the eyes opened wide.

Chris swallowed the smooth shake and gasped as the movement seemed to tear open his ravaged throat. His resolve to drink it, no matter what it took, weakened as it felt as if cut glass was cutting into his neck. He felt Jackson stand beside him and tried to speak.

"D...damn...sor...ry, Nate....tried."

"I know you did, Chris," Jackson said as he wet a cloth with cold water. He hurried back to his reluctant patient and handed him the wet cloth.

Chris took the cloth and wiped the beads of perspiration from his face. He looked at the medic for a few seconds before making his way to the garbage, where he lost the small amount of liquid he managed to swallow.

"Ah, hell!" he hissed and leaned heavily against the marble countertop.

"I can see that," Jackson said sympathetically. "Why don't you go relax and watch TV for a while?" the medic asked as the phone rang.

Chris nodded as he picked it up and rasped. "Larabee."

"Hey, cowboy, how're you feeling?"

"Hi...Vin," he managed and tried to swallow, grimacing at the fire building in his throat. "What's going on with Carter?"

"We're gonna meet with him in half an hour to find out what's gonna happen next. Mrs. Carter is set on filing charges against him."

"She gonna stick with it this time?"

Tanner heard the raspy sound and knew Larabee's struggles to drink were far from over.

"Think so, Chris. He beat her up pretty bad last time. She's got a fractured wrist and a black eye. I think she's finally realized that the man's no good and he's not gonna change."

"Good. Hopefully she'll stick to it this time. I'd hate to see those kids living under the same roof as that jerk," Larabee rasped, fighting the growing pain.

"Chris, let me speak to Vin. You go on into the living room and I'll get your medications ready."

Larabee nodded and handed the phone to the medic. Jackson held the phone and watched as the blond made his way into the living room and sank into his favorite recliner.

"Vin."

"Nathan, how is he?"

"Still the same, but he's trying. It should start getting better soon."

"What happens if it doesn't?"

"He'll end up back in the hospital. We won't let it come to that, Vin...we'll make sure it gets easier for him. Look I'm gonna go get him some Zoloft and Morphine. Hopefully that'll help and we'll try again later."

"Alright, Nathan. I'll be out as soon as we're done talking to Orrin about the Carter case."

"Alright, Vin," Jackson said and hung up the phone. He looked into the living room and watched as Larabee flipped through the channels. He readied the medication and hurried back to the blond.

Chris saw the syringes in Jackson's hand and nodded gratefully. He watched as Jackson opened the Heplock and injected the morphine and Zoloft.

"That's gonna make you sleepy, Chris. Do you want to go back to your room before it takes affect?" he said.

"No...this is fine, Nathan," Larabee answered and watched as the medic unhooked the empty bag of antibiotics from the pole.

"Alright, call me if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks Nathan." The sick man closed his eyes and thought about the bottle of whiskey sitting in the bar. 'If it's gonna burn going down might as well make it something that burns anyway,' he thought as he relaxed in the chair.

---

Chris struggled to open his eyes and smiled as he heard someone humming in the kitchen. The IV had been unhooked and he felt a little better with the fluids inside him. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen, knowing Jackson would be there fixing lunch.

The medic looked up as his patient joined him. With a practiced eye he studied the blond's face. Dark circles rimmed the eyes and the handsome face was way too pale for Jackson's liking.

"How are you feeling, Chris?"

"Better, Nathan," Larabee said, sinking into one of he chairs sitting beside the center island.

"Want to try some ice cream or maybe some Jell-O?"

"No Jell-O, Nathan. Maybe a little ice cream," Larabee answered. He saw the relief in the soft brown eyes and hoped he wouldn't disappoint his worried friend.

Jackson reached for a bowl from the cupboard and placed a single scoop of the French vanilla ice cream in it. he placed a spoon in the bowl and placed it in front of the sick man.

"Thanks, Nathan," Larabee said, dreading what he knew was to come. 'Being a coward again, Larabee,' he thought as he lifted the spoon with a tiny amount of the creamy white offering.

Jackson watched from the corner of his eyes as Larabee seemed to struggle with himself. He prayed this time the blond would be able to eat, and keep it down. He knew Chris hated being watched and he forced himself to look away. He reached into the fridge and took out the ham and Swiss cheese, intent on making himself a lunch. The sound of the a choked off gasp made him turn and he watched Larabee push the bowl away. He walked over to his friend and shook his head.

"Chris, if you don't start eating I'm gonna have to call Dr. Murphy," he told him.

"Nathan, I'm trying," Larabee said softly.

"I know you are, but..."

"But not hard enough," The blond said simply. He was tired, his body aching as he stood up and coughed. His hands went to his throat and rubbed at his neck.

"I'm sorry, Chris," Jackson said.

"For what, Nathan?" Larabee asked seriously.

"For insisting you go through with the surgery. It doesn't seem like it was such a good idea anymore," the medic said worriedly.

"You didn't make me have the surgery."

"I know but..."

"But nothing. Look, I trust you, Nathan Jackson. I may not always show you how much, but I think it's time I did. If I didn't have the tonsils out I would've just kept getting strep throat and tonsillitis, wouldn't I?"

"Yeah," the medic told him.

"Then this was the only option. Look, Nathan, I know this is only temporary and it's gonna get better. I just gotta keep trying, right?" the blond asked tiredly.

"That's right, Chris," Jackson said. "You let me know when you're ready to try some more."

"I will," Larabee yawned, and smiled sheepishly.

"Why don't you go on and lie down, Chris?"

"I just got up," the blond told him.

"I know, but it's obvious you're still tired."

"Yeah, I am. Any word from Vin on the meeting with Orrin?"

"Nothing yet."

"I hope she's smart enough to go ahead with the charges. I'd hate to see her or the kids hurt by that bastard."

"Yeah, I think this time she's finally smartened up," Jackson said, watching the blond stand up.

"We'll see when the time comes. I've seen to many women cave in when it comes time to put the sonofabitch they married away."

"I think we all have. Go on and lie down, Chris."

"I think I will, Nathan." Chris walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. His eyes strayed towards the liquor cabinet once more, but he fought the urge to get a glass of the whiskey. He knew Jackson's temper and for once didn't want to face the man's ire. He looked at the recliner, but ignored it and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

When Nathan checked no him fifteen minutes later, Chris Larabee was curled on his side with the black and white checked afghan pulled up over him. The pale face seemed relaxed in sleep, and the medic closed the door gently before going back into the living room.

---

"Look, Kid, just open the damn vacuum and change the bag?"

"I'm trying to, Buck!" Dunne snapped as he pulled on the case holding the full bag. "Shit, you think Chris would've changed this long ago!"

"Yeah, well, he probably only uses it once a month. The cleaning lady usually takes care of it for him."

"I hate cleaning!"

"I don't know anyone who does enjoy cleaning, Kid, but you made the mess and you need to clean it up!"

"I know!" the younger man said, frustration inn his voice.

---

Chris could hear the two men arguing outside his door and forced his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at the clock on his nightstand and saw it was after six. Wilmington and Dunne sounded like they were right outside the door and he wondered what the two men were up too. He stood up and made his way to the door.

---

"I can do it, Buck!" Dunne snapped as the ladies' man tried to help him.

"Yeah, sure you can, Kid, but it looks more like you're wrestling an alligator than a paper bag!"

"Well, the damn thing won't let..." he didn't finish as his efforts to pull the bag free resulted in it ripping down the side and weeks of dust and dirt billowed up from the ruined bag. He started to laugh, but the door he stood in front of open and Chris Larabee walked into the billowing mass of debris.

"Oh, shit, Chris!" the youngest member of the team said, but couldn't help laughing, which resulted in his inhaling some of the mess as well. His own coughing and laughing joined Wilmington's and he used his hand to brush the stuff away from his face.

Chris frowned at the dark cloud of dust in front of him, but couldn't close his mouth in time to stop his lungs from inhaling the stuff. His lungs reacted immediately and he began coughing, resulting in more of the stuff being inhaled before he stepped back into the room. He could hear the two men laughing and realized it really was funny. Everything happened in only a few seconds, but to Chris it felt like it went on forever. The dust covered his face and clothing and he saw his own footprints in the thick carpet of dirt the billowed down to the floor. He couldn't control the coughing and his throat constricted in an effort to ease the pain that was reawakened with his bodies need to rid itself of the dust in his lungs and his ravaged throat.

Buck and JD continued to laugh until the ladies' man heard the painful hacking coughs emanating from his long time friend.

"Ah, Hell!" he swore as he entered the room. "JD, go get Nathan!"

"What's wrong, Buck?" Dunne asked.

"I don't know, Kid, just get him, okay?"

"Okay," the Bostonian said and hurried to get Jackson.

"Easy, Chris," the scoundrel said, rubbing Larabee's back sympathetically.

"S...shit!" Larabee rasped, but winced as his abused throat protested vehemently.

"What's going on?" Jackson asked, hurrying into the room, and moving to check his patient.

"We were trying to change the vacuum bag!" the ladies' man explained. "Chris opened the door just as the damn thing broke and he inhaled a lot of the stuff."

"Shit! Chris listen to me. Just cough it all up," the medic explained.

"Try...ing...throat...hurts," he rasped, and continued hacking as his lungs tried to dispel the unwanted addition to the air he'd breathed.

"I know," Jackson said.

"S...sick..." Larabee said, standing up and hurrying towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Jackson, Wilmington and Dunne winced as they heard the sounds from behind the closed door. The medic stood up and looked disgustedly at the mess spread over the floor, before making his way towards the living room.

"Buck, I'm gonna set up his IV and get him something for pain and nausea. You stay here until he comes out. JD, get a new bag and clean up that mess."

"I w...will," the young man said.

Wilmington heard the guilt in the young man's voice and shook his head.

"It's not your fault, Kid," he said softly.

"Yeah, it is," the younger man told him, just as the bathroom door opened and a very pale blond exited.

Chris used the warm cloth to wash his face and shook his head at the younger man. "Did you tear the bag on purpose, JD?"

Dunne's eyes widened as he looked at the blond sympathetically. "No...I was..."

"Just trying to h...help out.," Larabee rasped painfully. "It's not your fault I opened the door just as the damn thing ripped. Hell, Kid, I've l...lost track of how many times I've done that."

"I think we all have," the ladies' man explained.

"The bags are in the cupboard in the kitchen, JD," Larabee explained, fighting the urge to cough once more. He watched the young man leave the room and sank wearily onto the bed.

"Why don't you lie back down, Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"Only just got up," the blond hissed.

"I know, but you sound terrible."

"I'm okay. Where'd Nathan get to?"

"Ah, he's gone to set up your medications," the ladies' man explained.

"Damn," Chris swore and stood on shaky legs. He coughed and held his and to his sore chest. "If he's gonna insist on that I want to be out in the living room."

"You sure you're up to it?"

"Y...yeah...th...think so," his words were forced out between coughs. He walked towards the door and made his way towards the living room. His stomach continued to churn as nausea rose and fell as if he was on a turbulent sea.

Jackson heard the rasping wheeze from the hallway and knew his stubborn patient was on his way out. He set up the antibiotics beside the recliner and waited for the man to take his seat.

Chris sat down and grabbed for the box of tissues beside the chair. He felt Jackson take his arm and expertly hook up the medication.

"Chris, I'm gonna give you the morphine and Zoloft first," Jackson said as he injected the meds through the heplock.

"...okay..." the blond said. His throat had grown steadily worse as the coughing intensified and became more of a bark.

"Buck, get him some water," Jackson ordered as Larabee spit into one of the tissues.

"Shit, Chris, how much of that stuff did you inhale?" the medic asked.

"Feels like the whole fucking b...bag," the blond said, smiling weakly.

"Sounds like it too," the medic quipped, as he hooked up the antibiotics.

"Here you go, Chris," the ladies' man said when he returned with a glass of water.

"Thanks, Buck," Larabee wheezed and accepted the glass. He lifted it to his mouth and took a tentative sip. He painfully swallowed the water, groaning as it felt like it ripped out his throat. He struggled to take a second sip, hoping it would get easier, but that wasn't to be and he passed the cup back to his long time friend. He closed his eyes as he felt the medication ease the pain in is throat and chest, missing the worried look on his friend's faces as he continued to cough up the dust he'd inhaled.

"Easy, Chris," the medic soothed as Larabee's face contorted in pain and his eyes began to water with the force of the coughing. He knew Buck and JD were watching the scene and wanted to put their minds at ease, but his boss needed his complete attention right now.

"Je...sus," Larabee hissed. Over and over he coughed, until it became a continuous fight to draw air into his lungs. He was unable to catch his breath as the harsh sounds erupted from his mouth, until he felt something tear at the back of his throat and tasted the metallic tang of blood.

Jackson saw the panic in the green eyes just before blood appeared on Larabee's lips and ran slowly down his chin. "Shit! Buck, get the car! JD call Saint Vincents and tell them we're bringing Chris in!"

"What? Why?" the kid asked, but grabbed the phone when he saw the blood.

"Chris, just try to relax," the medic said, grabbing tissues and wiping the blood from his friend's chin.

"S...shit, Nate...no...hos..pi...tal," he said as the urge to cough continued.

"Sorry, Chris, no choice in the matter. I think you've ruptured the stitches and we need to get you checked out!"

JD came back from the kitchen with a wet cloth and handed it to Jackson who used it to clean the blood from Larabee's face.

"The hospital is expecting us!" Dunne told him as Jackson unhooked the antibiotics and eased Larabee to his feet.

Chris coughed again and groaned as he felt needle like stabbing pain at the back of his throat. He grabbed a handful of tissues and spit out a wad of blood tainted sputum, before closing his eyes against a wave of nausea. He felt the strong hands of the medic on his arm and smiled gratefully at the support.

"Th...anks..." he whispered as they walked out the door and made their way towards Wilmington's car.

JD hurried to open the door and watched as Jackson eased the blond onto the seat. His eyes met the worried ones of the ladies' man as he slid into the passenger seat. He could feel the fear emanating from the scoundrel as the older man started the car and hurriedly drove out of the driveway and headed towards Billings. The silence between them was interrupted only by the coughing from the sick man and the soothing voice of the medic.

Chris tried to stop coughing, but the minute he did he could feel the trickle of blood at the back of his throat. His stomach churned and he knew he was going to be sick.

"Buck, pull over!" Jackson ordered as he recognized the look on the blond's face. He felt the car ease off the paved road and onto the gravelled shoulder and helped Larabee from the car. He watched as the blond retched and bloodied sputum dropped onto the ground. Once the attack was over he got the sick man back in the car and the journey to Saint Vincents began again, with Larabee's head slumped against the back of the car.

Thirty minutes later they pulled into the emergency department and JD jumped out of the car and raced into the ER.

"We need help out here!" he called, relieved to see a familiar figure behind the nurses desk.

Sandy had been warned to expect Larabee and recognized JD immediately. She moved from behind the desk just as the doctor on call came out of one of the treatment rooms.

"Dr. Hale, it's the patient I told you about!" she said as she grabbed a gurney and wheeled it towards the automatic doors.

Mark Hale grabbed the opposite end of the stretcher and hurried towards the car parked just outside the ambulance bay. They stopped beside the passenger door just as two men eased a pale form from the backseat.

"Get him on here!" he ordered, noting the blood on the man's face. They lowered the gurney to make it easier for the blond to lie back and saw the panic in the green eyes.

"Sit him up a bit!" The doctor said as the stretcher was raised and Sandy lifted the end so Larabee could breath easier without swallowing any more blood. They rushed into the ER and towards an empty room.

"You three can wait in there!" Sandy ordered as Larabee disappeared inside the examination room.

"Guess we'd better call the others," Wilmington said.

"Oh, Hell, Vin was supposed to stop by tonight," Jackson explained.

"I'll see if I can get him on his cell," the ladies' man said and hurried out of the room.

Jackson took the time to look at the younger man seated dejectedly across from him. The slump of the shoulders and the bowed head told him the kid was feeling guilt for what happened at the house. He stood up and crossed the narrow space and took the seat next to him. He placed a comforting hand on Dunne's shoulder and waited for the youth to look at him. When the head lifted he could see the worry and fear on the pale face.

"JD, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Nathan," the easterner said simply.

"Sure you are, Kid. Look, JD, no one is to blame for what happened..."

"How can you say that, Nathan? I did that to him!"

"No you didn't..."

"Yes, I did. I'm the one that broke the damn bag! I shouldn't have been changing it right in front of his door! I should've done it outside!"

"Did you know Chris was going to come out just as you were changing the bag?"

"Of course not," the kid answered.

"Well then you're not to blame. None of us are. It was just hard luck that Chris stepped out just as the bag broke!"

"B...But I'm the one who broke the bag!"

"Maybe you did, but did you do it on purpose?"

"No, I just gave a small tug and the damn thing came apart!" the kid swore.

"Ah, so the blame doesn't lie with you it lies with Mr. Hoover."

"What?" Dunne asked incredulously.

"Well, he's the one who made the bags. Guess we need to pay a visit to him and sack it to him..."

"Sack it?" he kid grinned weakly. "Don't you mean sock?"

"Nope. Sack it is! After all sack is another name for bag and that's the offending device that caused this," the medic said, smiling as he saw the relief on the young man's face.

"Nathan, I'm gonna remind you of that one the next time you're making fun of my jokes," the kid said.

"Oh, hell, can we forget we had this talk?"

"Uhuh, no way," Dunne said.

"Alright, JD, I'm going to go out to the desk and see about getting Chris' chart prepared. Why don't you see if you can scare us up some coffee."

"Okay," the youngest member of the team said and followed Jackson out of the waiting room.

---

"Chris, I'm just gonna take a look and see what's happening. Can you open your mouth for me?" Hale asked.

Larabee nodded and opened his mouth, fighting back the nausea assaulting him once more. He felt the nurse taking his vitals and turned away from the doctor. He grabbed the basin they'd placed beside him, and spat out the crimson fluid.

"S...sorry," he apologized and smiled gratefully as Sandy passed him a wet cloth. "Thanks," he mumbled tiredly, coughing again as the tickle returned to his throat. He closed his eyes, hating the taste in his mouth, and wishing he had something to gargle with.

Hale leaned on the side of the bed and checked his patient's eyes as the nurse finished taking his vitals. He rubbed his left hand across the stubble on his chin and knew what he was about to say would not go over well with this particular patient.

"Chris?'

Larabee opened his eyes and looked at the doctor, frowning at the look he saw there. "W...what's w...wrong?"

"It looks like you've torn open the stitches at the back of your throat."

"Ah, He...hell," the blond hissed. "Guess you need to put..." he stopped and spit in the basin once more. "Put them back in."

"Yes, we do..."

"Alright, get it over with so I can go home," he said softly, the pain in the back of his throat seemed to be growing worse.

"It's not that simple. I'm afraid you're going to need to go to the OR for this."

"W...what?" Larabee asked incredulously. The door opened and he spotted a tuft of blond hair before a familiar form reached his bed.

"We can't do it here..."

"Shit!"

"I'm going to have Sandy take some blood and start an IV while I put in a call to the OR," Hale explained. "Just relax while we set things in motion!"

Larabee closed his eyes and fought the urge to cough, knowing it would just cause more pain. He hated the taste in his mouth and again spit into the small basin.

---

"Nathan, what's wrong?"

Jackson looked up at the question and was relieved to see Carolyn Murphy walking towards him.

"Hi, Doc, Chris is in there with Dr. Hale," He explained, pointing to the examination room Larabee and the doctor had disappeared into.

"What happened?" the specialist asked worriedly.

"He inhaled a lot of dust from a broken vacuum bag and started coughing. It just got worse until he was literally gasping for air. The next thing we knew there was blood running out of his mouth," the medic explained.

"How long ago was this?"

"About an hour and a half."

"Alright, I'm going to check on him. I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I know," the dark haired woman assured him.

"Thanks, Doc," the medic said as the woman hurried towards Larabee's room. He watched as Hale came out of the room and spoke with Murphy before he hurried towards the nurses' desk and picked up the phone there.

---

Chris heard the door open but kept his eyes closed, but he opened them when he heard the familiar voice beside his bed.

"I heard one of my favorite patients was here," Carolyn Murphy said, touching his shoulder and smiling at him.

"H...hi, Doc," he whispered painfully.

"Try not to talk too much, Chris. I just spoke with Dr. Hale and he's arranging for an OR. Now let me take a look," she said as she picked up a tongue depressor and reached for the light. "Open up," the doctor ordered and looked down his throat.

"W...well?" Larabee asked.

"It looks like you ruptured the sutures and maybe broken one of the vessels. You just rest easy until we get this set up. I'll see you upstairs," she told him as she hurried out of the room.

"...okay..." Larabee said as he felt Sandy take his arm and examine the heplock already in place.

"Chris, I'm going to use a different site for your IV. The heplock needs to be moved anyway," she explained as she finished setting the IV up on the pole beside his bed.

Chris simply nodded and closed his eyes as he felt her lift his left hand and begin searching for a place to put the new IV.

"You're gonna feel a small prick now, Chris," she explained as she inserted the tiny needle. She extracted the blood samples she needed before attaching the IV fluids and taping the lines in place. "There, now you just relax until they call for you."

"Thanks, Sandy," Larabee said and watched as the nurse left the room, before picking up the basin and spitting the foul tasting fluid from his mouth.

---

"So what's happening, Doc?" Jackson asked as Hale hung up the phone and turned towards him.

"The guys are on the way, Nathan. Any word on Chris?" Wilmington asked the medic as he joined him at the desk.

"I was just about to find out," Jackson said. "Well, Doc?" he asked as Dunne joined them, three cups of coffee in his hands.

"Okay, the heavy coughing seems to have ruptured the sutures and opened up a blood vessel. That's where the bleeding is coming from," Hale explained as Murphy exited Larabee's room.

"What are you going to do about it?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"Dr. Murphy is scrubbing for surgery..."

"Surgery!" Dunne exclaimed, fumbling the coffee cups in his hands.

"Yes, those stitches need to be replaced and the bleeding stopped. I have to go check on my other patients."

"Can we go see Chris?" Jackson asked.

"Yes, but let him rest and don't get him talking," the doctor ordered.

"We won't," the medic assured him.

"Surgery," Dunne repeated.

Wilmington looked at the pale young man and steered him towards the waiting room. He turned his head towards the medic and called over his shoulder.

"Nathan, you go sit with Chris. I'll take care of JD."

"Okay, Buck," the medic said, worried about the young man, and glad Buck was with him. He moved towards the closed door and opened it as the nurse came out carrying three vials of blood.

"How is he, Sandy?"

"He's resting right now, Nathan, and that's the best thing for him. I'll be back as soon as the OR calls for him."

"Okay. I'm just gonna sit with him until they call." Jackson moved into the room and silently pulled a chair closer to the bed.

Larabee was turned on his right side, the basin gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were closed, but Jackson knew he wasn't sleeping. He hated seeing the vulnerability in the pale face, knowing Larabee still had a ways to go in his recovery. He saw the green eyes open to mere slits and waited for the blond to speak.

"Th..." Larabee stopped and spit into the basin before trying again.

"Don't talk right now, Chris. Just rest, okay?"

"...okay..." the sick man agreed and closed his eyes once more.

---

"Okay, JD, what's wrong?"

"Buck...I..." he started, but couldn't meet the older man's gaze.

"Kid, if you tell me this is your fault I'm gonna slug you..."

"But, Buck..."

"Don't but Buck me. Look JD, I'm just as much at fault as you think you are. The bag broke at a bad time. It's no one's fault except..."

"Mr. Hoover," Dunne finished.

"The vacuum guy?"

"Yeah. The bag wasn't strong enough. Least Nathan says to blame him."

"Not bad. Wonder if we can persuade Chris to sell the movie rights. We could call it Attack of the Sack."

"Or maybe a new game for Nintendo...Mario Sack Attack!" the kid finished, reaching for his coffee and handing the ladies' man his.

"JD, Chris will be fine," Wilmington reassured the Bostonian.

"I know, Buck, I just wish it hadn't happened."

"Me too, Kid," the ladies' man said and the two men lapsed into silence.

---

Jackson looked up as the door opened fifteen minutes later and smiled as the nurse and an orderly entered the room.

Sandy placed her hand on Larabee's shoulder and gently shook him awake. She waited for the tired green eyes to focus on her and spoke softly.

"Chris, Dr. Murphy is ready for you," Sandy explained.

"...okay..." the blond's voice sounded muffled as he winced in pain and spit into the basin.

"Nathan, you know where to wait," Sandy said as the medic moved out of the way.

"Yeah, we'll see you when this is over, Chris," Jackson assured his friend.

"Th...anks, Nathan," Larabee said and closed his eyes once more. He felt the bed moved, and remained on his side as it was wheeled out of the room. He lost track of the twists and turns the stretcher took after they exited the elevator. He felt them stop and opened his eyes to the familiar sight of an OR. He slid over onto the operating table and lay back as a new nurse began attaching leads to his chest, and his arms were pulled out at his sides.

"Hello, Chris, I'm Dr. Parsons and I'm the anesthesiologist who's going to be putting you to sleep. How are you feeling?"

"Okay...little sick to my stomach," he answered honestly. Chris turned his head as he heard Murphy's voice.

"I expect you are. You'll probably feel that way for a while. Now, just lie still and Dr. Parsons will put you to sleep and you'll wake up in recovery."

"Chris, I'm adding the medication now so just relax," the anesthesiologist said.

"Hmm," Larabee said as he felt the new medication enter his body and soon drifted into a drug induced sleep.

---

Six heads snapped up as Carolyn Murphy entered the surgical waiting room. She smiled at the tired faces as she sat down beside JD Dunne."

"Well, Doc, how is he?" Wilmington voiced the question on all their minds.

"He's going to be fine. Surgery went well and he's being moved to recovery now."

"Can we see him?" Tanner asked.

"Not until he's moved to his room..."

"His room?" Standish asked.

"That's right. I want to keep him for a day or two just to make sure there are no other..."

"Don't say it, Doc!" Jackson interrupted.

"Don't say what?" Murphy asked, genuinely surprised at Jackson's tone.

"The BIG C word, Doc. Don't say it," Tanner explained.

"Big C word?" Murphy frowned in puzzlement.

"Yeah...big C...you know complications," Dunne whispered softly.

"Oh," Murphy couldn't help but laugh. "I take it Chris has a lot of..."

"Yes he does, Doc," Jackson said.

"Okay, let's just say I want to keep him a day or two for observation," the woman explained.

"Have there been any major traffic accidents today?" Standish asked seriously.

"Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?" Murphy asked.

"I'm sure we're all hoping Mr. Larabee gets a room on a regular floor and not in pediatrics," the conman said.

Murphy smiled at the six men, amazed at how these men supported their friend. Larabee's tonsillectomy was filled with complications including a stay in the children's ward when there were no other beds available.

"Chris will not have to share a room with children this time around. We've got a private room waiting for him. I'm sure if you check with the nurses on the surgical floor they'll tell you where Chris will be staying."

"Thanks, Doc," Sanchez said.

"Oh, Doc."

"Yes, Vin," Murphy said as she stood up.

"Does Chris know he's staying overnight?" the tracker asked.

"Not yet. Would you like to volunteer to give him that information?"

"Ah...no....not really," the sharpshooter said.

"Coward!" Dunne said with a smile.

"When it comes to Chris and hospitals I am!" Tanner answered.

"Gentlemen," Murphy said. "I'm on my way to see Chris now and will give him the news. Like I said check with the nursing station to see what room he's in."

"We will, Doc, thanks," Jackson told her.

"Well, Gentlemen, since we can't visit our illustrious leader until he's settled might I suggest dinner in the cafeteria?"

"You buyin' Ez?" Tanner asked.

"I could be persuaded to foot the bill on this one," Standish answered smoothly.

"Persuaded, Ez?" Dunne asked.

"How would you all like to wager on the length of Mr. Larabee's stay..."

"I'm surprised at you, Son. Taking wagers on a man when he's down," Sanchez berated the younger man.

"Ah, I..."

"Put me down for twenty dollars and make the time thirty six hours," the ex-preacher said with a toothy grin.

"Twenty dollars for Mr. Sanchez," Standish said as he pulled out a small notebook and a pen. "Anyone else?"

"Twenty says he'll be here for forty eight," Tanner answered confidently.

"You people should be ashamed of your selves," Jackson said as he opened the door.

"How much and how long, Mr. Jackson?" the conman asked.

"Twenty dollars for twenty four hours," the medic told him with a smile.

"Twenty for twenty," Dunne said.

"How about you, Buck?" Tanner asked.

"Might as well stick with the twenty and make it twelve hours. Chris is stubborn and he won't lie still for this," the ladies' man said with a grin.

"What about you, Ez?" the youngest member of the team asked as they walked towards the elevator.

"I'm going with twenty dollars and forty hours," the conman said. "Okay, that's it the book is closed for wagering."

---

"Chris."

Larabee heard the voice calling him and slowly opened his eyes. It took a few minutes to focus and remember where he was. He smiled at the nurse standing next to the bed, she looked familiar, but he couldn't recall her name. He licked his lips in an effort to moisten them and tried to speak.

"W...what..." he stopped as the words were strained past his ravaged throat and hissed softly.

"Easy, Chris," the nurse said as she moistened his lips with a medicinal sponge.

"T...thanks," he moaned as he struggled to wake from the anesthetic.

"You're welcome. Dr. Murphy is coming this way."

"G...good...want to go h...home," Larabee said as the doctor joined the nurse beside the bed.

"How are you feeling, Chris?" the doctor asked.

"Sore...tired," he answered honestly.

"That's understandable, you've been through a lot. Now I want you to relax and let the nurses know if you need anything."

"M...my pants," Larabee told her.

"Well, you see," she could see the glassy eyes growing cold, but didn't let it affect what she had to say. "You won't be needing your pants for at least a day or two."

"Wh...what..."

"Look, Chris, you've just had surgery...again... You haven't been eating or drinking properly and you're run down. I want to keep you for at least twenty four hours and then we'll see how things go from there."

"Hell, D...doc..."

"Chris, it's for your own good. Now relax," she saw the grimace on his face as he tried to form a few choice words. "I'm going to have Shawna give you something for pain while they get your room ready."

"N...not in P...pe...dia...trics!" Larabee hissed, resigned to being stuck in the hospital overnight.

"No, Chris," Murphy laughed. "We've got a nice private room just for you, but..."

"What?"

"I could arrange to have some rap mus..."

"Not funny, Doc!" Larabee hissed as Shawna placed a syringe in his IV and injected the morphine.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I couldn't resist. We'll make sure no one on the floor plays rap music during your stay. Now let the medication help you sleep. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"...okay..." the blond whispered as his eyes drifted closed. He fought to open them once more as he realized what she'd said. There was no way in hell he was staying in until tomorrow afternoon, but he didn't voice the protest as he slipped into the soft dreams he'd been having.

Two hours later he woke up to find a nurse and an orderly ready to transfer him to a bed in a private room. He opened his eyes and smiled weakly as Shawna spoke softly to him.

"Chris, do you think you can scoot over onto this bed for me?"

"Y...yeah," Larabee said tiredly. He waited until the nurse held the IV line in his left hand and easily moved onto the softer bed. He turned onto his side as nausea once more rolled through his stomach. He turned onto his right side and found a small basin held there for him. His stomach heaved until he fell back against the pillows and moaned weakly.

"Chris, Dr. Murphy left orders for Zofran. I'm going to have your nurse bring it and your pain meds. Okay?"

"Y...yeah, thanks," the blond said as she tucked the blankets around him. The pain in his throat had escalated since he vomited and he knew it would ease with the morphine and Zofran. He opened his eyes as someone touched his hand and inserted a syringe into his IV line.

"Tha...nks," he mumbled tiredly.

"You're welcome, Chris. My name is Tara and I'll be one of the nurses looking after you tonight. I'm just going to take your vitals and let you go back to sleep. Okay?"

"...okay..." Larabee said as he felt the thermometer placed in his ear. He felt her taking his pulse and BP and opened his eyes as she finished marking the results on his chart.

"There, all done. Now there are six men waiting outside. Do you feel like seeing them or should I tell them to come back tomorrow?"

"Nah, send them in," Larabee said as he pressed the button to raise the head of his bed.

"You need to rest, Chris, but I'll let them in for a few minutes."

She left the room and Larabee let his eyes close as he got comfortable. He opened them as he heard the door open and couldn't help smiling as JD and Buck stuck their heads through the narrow opening.

"Come on in," he told them and smiled as his bed was soon surrounded by six men.

"Hi, Chris, how are you feeling?" Dunne asked.

"F...fine, Kid," Larabee answered softly.

"That's good, Pard, 'cause ya look like five miles of bad road," Wilmington told him.

"Thanks, Buck, I really needed to hear that," the blond said tiredly.

"Well, hell, Chris, ain't my fault ya had a run in with Mr. Hoover," the ladies' man said.

"Who?" the sick man asked.

"Hoover...the vacuum guy. We figure it's his fault you're back in here," Dunne told him.

"Huh...must be the anesthetic," Larabee told them.

"What must be the anesthetic?" Jackson asked worriedly.

"Buck and JD a...actually m...made sense," Larabee said, yawning tiredly.

"Well, Son, it looks like you need to go on back to sleep," Sanchez said.

"Josiah's right, Chris. You go to sleep and we'll come see you in the morning," Jackson assured him.

"...okay..." the blond said as his eyes closed. He frowned as he heard Wilmington whispering something about his making a bad bet. 'Why wasn't I in on the bet?' he thought as he gave in to the call of sleep.

---

Vin walked out of the elevator and made his way towards the room housing his best friend. He knew it was early, but he hadn't slept much the night before. Chris seemed to be having a run of bad luck lately and he was beginning to wonder if the man had walked under a dozen ladders or broken more mirrors than Kellogg's had corn flakes. He smiled at the nurse seated at the desk and knew she wouldn't try to stop him. They knew him, and they understood that if Chris was in the hospital he would be there and vice versa. He stood in front of the door and eased it open.

Chris lay on his side, both legs, slightly bent, his right arm tucked under his head. Vin almost smiled at the innocent look on his friend's face as he pulled the chair closer to the bed. He took the headphones from the table and put them on his head before turning on the TV. The Simpsons cartoon was on and he relaxed in the chair, stifling his laughter each time Homer came on screen. He looked sideways at Chris and smiled as a pair of green eyes slowly opened. Taking off the headphones Vin waited for his friend to wake up completely.

"Morning, Cowboy," the tracker greeted softly.

"Not a cowboy...Shit," Larabee winced as talking aggravated his throat.

"Guess I'd better not ask how you're feeling."

"Not a good i...dea right now," the blond answered, reaching for the controls on the side rail.

"Going somewhere?"

"You m...might say that." The side dropped into place and long legs slid over the edge.

"Chris..."

"V...Vin. I need to go..."

"Not until Dr. Murphy says you can go."

"Jesus, Vin, s...since when do I n...need permission to go to the bathroom?" He smiled as Tanner's cheeks turned red.

"Oh, Hell, sorry, thought you meant you were leavin'!"

"In this. I don't think green stripes are my color..."

"Well, I wouldn't say that...they match your eyes. Maybe we can arrange to buy you one for your..."

"You do and I'll get you a gift certificate to get a hair cut!" Larabee hissed. Standing up he reached for the IV pole and used his other hand to hold the hospital gown together at the back. He slowly made his way to the washroom, hoping the nausea he felt would ease the longer he was up. He made it to the bathroom door and had to release the gown to pull it open.

"Chris, I need to take...oh my," the nurse said, smiling as she got a full view of her patient's assets.

"Oh shit!" the blond hissed and grabbed the gown, turning so that his back was to the door. He glared at the sharpshooter who'd started laughing the instant the door opened.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Chris," Pamela said. She'd worked with this patient before and knew he could take a joke. "I must say though, they were not the cheeks I was expecting to see."

This set Tanner off again and Chris felt the heat rise to his face as he pushed his way into the bathroom. The younger man was doubled over in his chair, the laughter coming in spurts as he tried to get himself under control.

"I'll get you for this, Tanner," the blond hissed as the door closed behind him.

"What the hell did I do?" the sharpshooter asked through hiccupping laughter.

"Just remember, I got a long memory."

"Chris I'll come back in a few minutes to take your vitals," Pamela called.

"Yeah!" the blond hissed.

Pamela looked at the young man seated beside the bed. She knew how much they teased each other and couldn't help adding.

"I do hope he didn't mind my joke at his expense, but he really does have such sweet cheeks..."

"Oh, Hell," the blond cursed as the nurse's words sent the tracker off again.

"Are you alright, Chris?" Pamela asked.

"Just fu...Just fine," he corrected as he opened the door once more. He saw the mischief in Vin Tanner's sparkling blue eyes and knew there'd be a lot of references to this one. He held onto the back of his hospital gown as he pushed the IV pole out of the bathroom.

"Isn't it kind've early for visitors?" Larabee asked, his voice raspy as he made his way to his bed and sat on the edge.

"Careful, Chris, wouldn't want to damage those sweet..."

"Finish that and you'll find yourself in the unemployment line!" Larabee warned.

"Sheets, Chris, I was going to say sweet sheets," The tracker smiled at his pale friend. "But sweet cheeks fit too."

"That's it..."

"Chris, lie back so I can take your blood pressure," Pamela ordered as she moved towards the bed.

"Hmm, it's probably sky high, Pamela, look at the rosy cheeks."

"Vin, get..."

"Ah, now is that any way to talk to a man who gives up a good night's sleep to come visit a sick friend? I'm hurt, Chris."

"Yeah, right, Tanner..."

"Whoa, Chris, your blood pressure is a little high," Pamela said.

"Goes with the territory," Larabee said. "Look, it happens sometimes..."

"Because of your men?"

"We've been known to cause his blood pressure to rise," Tanner said. "But it doesn't last."

"I'm glad to hear that. Your temperature is a little high, but that sometimes happens after surgery. Dr. Midland will be making her rounds shortly and she'll be in to check on you."

"Good, I'm ready to get out of here," the blond said. He settled back on the bed, amazed at how tired he felt from the simple trip to the washroom.

"Well, you just rest until the doctors..."

"Sign the discharge papers," Larabee interrupted. He heard the nurse leave and closed his eyes, he knew he was still not well, but he wasn't about to admit it to anyone.

"So, Chris, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Vin."

"Sure. You gonna eat your breakfast when they bring it?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Probably something soft...Oatmeal..."

"You're kidding right. The oatmeal here is thicker than sludge."

"Chris ya gotta start eating or they'll keep you here."

Larabee heard the undercurrent of worry in the young man's voice and turned to look at him. He knew he wouldn't be able to set his mind at ease until everything was normal with his body.

"Vin, I'm trying..."

"I know, Chris, but..." He didn't get to finish as the door opened and Stacey Midland entered the room. She smiled at two of her most frequent patients as she moved to the bed.

"Good morning, Chris, how do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Doc. Sign the papers so I can get out of here," the blond said.

"Sorry, but I'm not the admitting doctor here. Dr. Murphy will be in this afternoon and she'll let you know if you're going home or not."

"I'm going home!"

"Chris!"

"Doc, she said overnight. The night is over and I..."

"And you're going to lie there and wait for her to come in."

"Hell, Doc..."

"Chris, how long has it been since you've managed to drink anything, let alone eat anything?"

"I drank some water yesterday..."

"And proceeded to throw it back up..."

"Vin, you're not helping here."

"Yes, he is, Chris. Look, you need to realize you've lost a bit of weight and you can't really afford that. If you don't start eating and keeping it down soon we're going to have to talk about a feeding tu..."

"No way!" Larabee hissed, wincing as it strained the back of his throat. He swallowed and again felt a burning sensation and sharp pain from the surgical site.

"There may not be a choice. You keep going like this and you won't have the strength to get out of that bed," Midland told him.

"Shit!"

"Just keep trying, Chris, that's all I'm asking."

"I will, Doc," Larabee assured her tiredly.

"Breakfast should be here in half an hour. Vin, did you go home last night?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, came in early..."

"Because you couldn't sleep," Midland said, seeing the truth in the blue orbs. "Well, it looks like you both need some rest. Vin, go home and get some sleep."

"I will," Tanner said.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Midland said, smiling at the two friends before leaving. She walked to the nurse's station and took Larabee's chart. His weight loss wasn't too bad yet, but if it continued the man could have serious complications. She really didn't want to have to resort to the feeding tube, but it was beginning to look more and more like they'd have to seriously consider it. She made a note on the chart about his weight loss and planned to meet with Murphy and the hospital's dietitian.

---

Chris was alone in his room while he waited for Carolyn Murphy to come into the room. He knew she was at the desk, going over his chart with the nurse before she came to see him. He'd tried to eat the soft food they brought at breakfast and lunch, but the little he managed to swallow came right back up again in spite of the Zofran. His eyes closed as he felt sleep drawing him, but he snapped them open and slid his legs over the edge of the bed in order to stay awake. He stood on shaky legs, made his way to the window and sat in the chair. He looked out into the sunshine, thinking about the problems he was having, but looked up as the door opened and the woman he'd been waiting for walked into the room.

"Good afternoon, Chris," Murphy greeted him with a smiled.

"Doc, so did you sign my discharge papers?"

"Well, Chris..."

"Come on, Doc..."

"Chris, I'm not signing any discharge papers until I'm sure everything is as it should be and that includes your being able to drink..."

"Have been drinking..."

"How much?" She watched him closely while she waited for an answer, smiling as he remained silent. "You know you're not drinking near enough and what you do drink makes a return trip within a minute or two, right?"

"Guess so," Larabee said, leaning his head heavily against the back of the chair.

"Look, give me one more day. If things improve I'll agree to letting you go tomorrow. Meanwhile I'd like you to keep trying to drink as much as you can."

"One more day..."

"If things improve," she corrected.

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed.

"Good, now come back to the bed and let me take a look at your throat," she ordered, frowning as he stood up and walked back to the bed. She could see the devastation this illness was having on him and also realized it was worse than normal, even for an adult.

Chris sat on the edge of the bed and smiled in spite of his discomfort. He watched as she pulled a tongue depressor from the container and took a penlight from her pocket.

"Okay, Chris, open your mouth," Murphy ordered.

Larabee did as he was told and waited as the doctor finished her examination of his throat. She finally removed the item from his mouth and placed the light back in her pocket, before sitting on the bed beside him.

"I know you don't feel well, Chris..."

"Feel fine, Doc..."

"Do your friends believe you when you tell them that?"

"Not really," he said with a small smile.

"I didn't think so. Well, your throat looks a little raw, but hopefully it'll start to feel better. Now, I have a few other patients to see, but I want you to relax and like I said...Drink! Whether it hurts or not, that's the only thing that's gonna help you heal."

"I will," the blond told her.

"Good, I'll be back to see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Chris?"

"Yeah, Doc?"

"You do know we're doing everything we can to get you out of here and feeling better?"

"I know."

"Good, because I want you to realize we may have to resort to a fee..."

"Don't say it, Doc. Ain't gonna happen," Larabee hissed.

"I hope you're right, Chris, but..."

"No buts."

"Okay, at least right now we won't talk about that. Just do what you can. I'll be back in the morning."

"Okay," the blond said and eased back on the bed. He turned on his side and closed his eyes, missing the worried frown on the doctor's face before she left the room.

---

Buck walked into the room an hour later to find his long time friend sleeping. He reached for the blanket and pulled it up over the lean body, his keen eyes taking in the signs that Larabee had lost more weight than he could afford. He remembered Sarah was always after her husband to gain a little weight, but Chris was adamant about staying at the weight he was. She'd make meals that would normally help gain pounds, but Larabee always managed to work off the extra calories. The man could eat more than most, but there was little evidence of that when you looked at the well muscled body. He finished covering the blond with the blankets and sat in the chair beside the bed.

Chris felt the added warmth and opened his eyes, smiling at his long time friend.

"Hey, Chris."

"Buck, shouldn't you be at work?"

"Nah, things are slow there right now so I figured you'd like some company."

"Thanks...appreciate it."

"Anytime, Chris. So, how are you feeling?"

"Tired, sore...feel like shit..."

"Figured as much. Talked to Pamela and she told me Dr. Murphy wanted you to stick around for another night. Can I get you anything?"

"Water," the blond answered, smiling at the look on Wilmington's face. He watched as the ladies' man went to get fresh ice water before easing his legs over the edge of the bed once more.

"Here you go, Pard."

"Thanks, Buck," the blond said. Taking the glass he took a tentative sip, before swallowing with some difficulty. He could feel his friend watching him and smiled as he placed the water on the table.

"Chris, that ain't enough."

"I know, Buck, just gonna take it slow."

"Okay."

"JD okay?"

"He's still feeling guilty about your run in with Mr. Hoover."

"Wasn't his fault."

"He knows that, Chris, but seeing you back in here is hard on the kid...hell it's hard on all of us."

"I know...sorry..."

"It's not your fault either, Pard," the ladies' man said, watching as the blond took another sip of the water.

Chris felt the other man watching his every move and smiled inwardly at the long time friendship they shared. Somehow, Buck Wilmington was always there, whether good times or bad he could always rely on this man being at his side.

"Thanks, Buck," he said tiredly.

"For what?" the scoundrel asked.

"For being the man you are and not letting me push you away."

"Oh, hell, Chris, that goes both ways. You may be a stubborn SOB sometimes, but I wouldn't have you any other way," the ladies' man assured him.

"Me either, Pard," Larabee said, reaching for the basin as his stomach churned.

"Easy, ol' son," the ladies' man said as the blond's face paled considerably. He rubbed the lean shoulders, watching as his friend fought to get his rebellious stomach under control.

"T...thanks, Buck," the blond said, looking towards the door as Pamela entered the room.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, hurrying to the bed.

"Y...yeah, think so...just nauseous," Larabee answered.

"I'm going to get your Zofran, Chris," she said. "How's the pain?"

"Right now...bad..." he answered as the retching caused his throat to throb painfully.

"I'll be right back," she said, hurrying from the room.

"Want to lie back down, Chris?"

"N...not yet, Buck...can you get me a cold cloth...feel kind of hot," he answered.

"Sure, you okay until I get back?"

"Yeah...fine..." The blond continued to fight the churning sensation in his stomach at the same time he tried to ignore the burning pain at the back of his throat.

"Here you go, Chris," the ladies' man said, passing the cloth to the ill man.

Chris took the cloth and quickly washed it over his face, before lying back on the bed and placing it over his eyes. He heard the door open, but didn't bother looking to see who it was.

"Chris, I've got morphine and Zofran here for you. How's the nausea?"

"Still there..."

"Did you drink anything?" she asked as she cleaned the site on his IV.

"A little..."

"He drank a few sips of water," Wilmington told her.

"That's great...now hopefully this'll help you keep it down," the nurse said.

"Thanks, Pamela," the blond said gratefully.

"You're welcome, Chris. Now, I'm just going to take your vitals and then I'll let you rest, okay?"

"...okay..." the blond agreed. He felt the morphine ease the pain at the back of his throat and sighed as his stomach finally calmed. He felt the nurse complete her task and ease the blankets up over him.

"Try to sleep, Chris, but drink when you can," the nurse told him.

"I will," Larabee said and heard her leave the room.

"How are you feeling now?" Wilmington asked a few minutes later.

"Better...I think."

"Good, ya know she's kind of pretty," the ladies' man said.

"I know," Larabee agreed.

"Why don't you ask her out? I mean she is the one who said you had sweet..."

"Tell Tanner to get his affairs in order!" Larabee hissed softly.

"Why....sure we've always known you had sweet cheeks, although we weren't talking about the same ones Pamela was."

"Buck, while Vin's putting his in order you'd best do the same," the blond warned.

"Although those sweet cheeks would probably be even sweeter with a bit more meat on them. You ain't got much of a rump roast there," the ladies' man said, smiling as he heard Larabee's soft laughter.

"Hell, Buck, give it a rest..."

"Sure...you okay now?"

"Yeah, just tired."

"Well, go on to sleep. I got your rump...er back," the scoundrel said, winking as Larabee looked at him through half open eyes.

"Go home, Buck, I can watch my own rump...or maybe I'll ask Pamela to watch it for me," the blond said, smiling as the ladies' man stood up to leave.

"I bet any one of the nurses would stand in line for that job, Chris...might be a few males among them too."

"Out, Buck!"

"Alright, I'm going. Get some rest, Pard...and drink."

"I will," Larabee said, turning on his side and pulling the blankets up over his body as the need for sleep came over him.

---

Chris awoke several hours later and rubbed at his throbbing temples. He threw back the blankets and sat up dizzily.

"W...whoa," he thought, running his hand through his sweat soaked blond hair. His stomach had eased some, but he wondered why the hospital had suddenly turned up the heat as he stood up and slowly made his way to the washroom. He stepped inside the small room and looked at the face in the mirror, the dark circles around the eyes, the gaunt cheeks, the pale face all spoke to him of a man who'd been sick for months, yet less than two weeks had passed since his tonsils were removed.

"Shit Larabee," he thought as he wet a cloth and slowly washed it over his heated skin.

"Chris, you in there?"

"Yeah, Nathan, be out in a minute," Larabee answered as he finished wiping his face. He placed the cloth back on the rack and turned away from the ghostly face reflected in the mirror.

---

Jackson watched as his friend and boss came out of the bathroom. He knew the other man was still feeling lousy as he took short, but deliberate steps towards the bed.

"How are you feeling?" the medic asked.

"Honestly, Nate, I don't know. Sometimes I feel okay, but other times I just feel like shit..."

"This being one of the times you feel like shit?"

"It shows that much?" Larabee asked, a weak smile on his face as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, you look a little flushed...when did the nurse take your temperature last?" The medic reached out to touch the blond's forehead and smiled as the man batted at his hand

"I don't know...Buck was here...I'm okay, Nathan."

"Sure you are," the younger man said.

"Nathan, look, I..."

"Feel like shit..."

"Yeah...okay, that sounds about right," the blond said sheepishly. He looked at the door as it opened and Pamela entered the room.

"Hello, Chris, Nathan."

"Pamela," Larabee said as the nurse came over to the bed.

"Dinner is on the way up and I wanted to make sure you weren't nauseous," the concerned nurse said.

"No, I'm okay..."

"Are you sure, you look a little flushed...."

"That's what I said," Jackson grinned as Larabee turned a pale imitation of his glare in his direction.

"Said I'm fine..."

"Well, let's just check to make sure. I'll be right back," Pamela told him.

"Shit!"

"What's wrong, Chris?"

"Nothing," the blond answered as he raised the head of his bed and lay back against the pillows. He reached for the blankets and pulled them up over himself.

"You cold?"

"Yeah...a little."

"You've got a fever," the medic said worriedly.

"No..."

"Chris, I'm going to take your temperature," Pamela said when she entered the room.

"Okay," the blond said and soon felt the thermometer against his ear. He sighed as he heard Jackson asking what it was, knowing the medic was worried about him.

"It's up a little," Pamela answered, and wondered whether there was something else going on. She shook her head as she finished with the vitals and patted Larabee's shoulder. "Chris, I'm going to put in a call to Dr. Murphy..."

"Ah, hell..."

"I just want to see if we can give you some Tylenol and get that fever back down. You just rest."

"Okay," the blond said. He looked at the medic and smiled weakly at him before closing his eyes and drifting towards sleep.

Nathan watched the sick man sleep and walked to the window as he waited for the others to arrive. He knew they'd all show up here eventually and wished he had better news to tell them. He looked at the door as the nurse came in once more. She held a small white cup in one hand and a new bag of intravenous fluid in the other.

Pamela smiled at the medic as she placed the cup on the table and moved to change the IV bag. She quickly attached the new one and soon had it running into her patient's arm. She took a syringe from her pocket and injected the Zofran into the juncture closest to Larabee's arm. Next she touched his shoulder and waited for the green eyes to open and focus on her.

"Chris, I just gave you some Zofran and hopefully it'll help your stomach. Dr. Murphy ordered Tylenol for your fever. Think you can sit up and take it for me?"

"Yeah..." the blond said and struggled upwards in the bed, his body trembling as the cooler air touched his skin. He took the cup and looked at the white pills inside it, frowning at the thought of forcing them down. 'Just do it, Larabee,' he thought and dumped the two pills into his mouth. He accepted the glass of water from Jackson and swallowed the pills with a minimum amount of the cold liquid. He placed the glass back on the table and lay back against the pillows as the nurse pulled the blankets up over him once more.

"Nathan, let me know if he loses them," she said.

"I will," the medic said, watching as the nurse left the room. He settled back and looked at the pale face of a man he'd come to admire in the years he'd worked with him. A man who'd been shot, beaten, and stabbed numerous times and came out of it faster than anyone had a right too. Yet here he was with a simple operation, and it was taking the good right out of him.

"I'm okay, Nathan, why don't you go on home and get some rest?"

"I will, Chris, as soon as I know you're really okay."

"I am, Nathan...or at least I will be. I'm not about to let a kid's illness get the best of me, although right now it seems to have the last word," Larabee told him, smiling as he heard the soft chuckle from the medic.

"Yeah, well, knowing you it may have the last word, but you'll beat the damn thing into submission and make it cower in some corner. Go on to sleep. I'll call you when dinner gets here...and no I don't want to hear you ain't hungry."

"Sounds like a plan, Nate," Larabee said and drifted off to sleep.

---

Chris lay awake in the early hours of the morning. He'd long ago given up on sleep and sat in the chair by the window, gazing out at the approaching dawn. He'd been given more Tylenol through the night as his fever continued unabated, but he'd been able to keep the pills down and he was beginning to think there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He looked up at the IV bag as the machine it ran through began to beep and knew the night nurse would soon enter his room to change it.

He looked across at the bed and wondered if he should even bother making the effort to get back under the covers as the nurse came into the room. The small flashlight shone on the empty bed before it moved across the room and stopped on him.

"Having trouble sleeping, Chris?" Terry asked.

"Yeah...just can't seem to get comfortable in these damn beds," the blond answered as she checked the feed into the monitor.

"I bet...but you do need your rest and I need to take your vitals. So why don't we get you back into bed so I can do my job, okay?"

"Guess so," the blond agreed and stood up slowly. He smiled as she moved the IV pole alongside him and helped him climb back into bed. He eased his long legs up on the bed and thanked the nurse as she covered him with the blanket.

"How's the throat?"

"Sore..."

"Have you been drinking anymore?"

"Yeah...had some water...think it's even going to stay put."

"That's good news." She took his vitals and saw that his temperature was still a little high. "I'm going to get you your Tylenol and hopefully you'll be able to go back to sleep."

"Okay," the blond agreed and shifted on the bed. He lay quietly as the nurse entered the room a few minutes later with the pills and a fresh glass of water.

"Here you go, Chris," she said and watched him sit up. She held the cup to him and watched as he dumped the pills into his mouth and took a couple of small sips from the water.

"Thanks," the blond said, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to take him away.

---

"Mr. Larabee, I need to take a little blood."

Chris opened his eyes and blinked as the bright light stabbed into them. He swore under his breath as the lab tech reached for his wrist. The night had been a long one and he knew he'd only just fallen asleep. He placed his arm over his eyes as he felt the rubber tubing wrapped around his bicep and the woman slapped at his skin to make the veins more prominent. He felt the tip of the needle slide under his skin and the tubing was released.

"There, all done," she said as she placed a piece of gauze over the tiny wound and bent his elbow. "Just keep it like that for a few minutes."

Chris watched her leave and let his eyes close once more as exhaustion made him queasy. It wasn't long before he was drifting towards sleep, only to be awakened by hospital routine once more. He opened his eyes as Carolyn Murphy's voice reached his ears.

"Good morning, Chris."

"Morning, Doc."

"How do you feel?"

"Tired, didn't get much sleep last night."

"So I see. Was there any reason for it? Something I should know about?"

"No, just couldn't get comfortable." Larabee answered as he pressed the button to raise the head of his bed.

"Well, that's understandable. There's nothing like your own bed when it comes to sleeping."

"Does that mean I'll be sleeping in my own bed tonight?"

"We'll see. I want to take a look at your throat and maybe figure out where this fever is coming from." Murphy told him as a woman came into the room. Chris recognized her from previous stays and smiled at the petite blond.

"Hello, Chris, Dr. Murphy," the bubbly nurse greeted them both.

"Jane, would you please check Chris' vitals while I look over his chart," Murphy said.

"Yes, Doctor," Jane Carlson said as she lifted the BP cuff from the stand and wrapped it around her patient's bicep.

"I see you've been able to drink a little more," the doctor said.

"Yeah...even kept it down," Larabee said, smiling thinly at the woman.

The doctor nodded and reached for a tongue depressor as she pulled a tiny penlight from her pocket. "Okay, open up." She shone the light at the back of his throat and moved the wooden implement around until she was satisfied by what she saw.

"Well?" Larabee asked.

"It looks a little better today," she answered and turned to the nurse. "What's his temperature, Jane?"

"101.2, Doctor."

"That's down a little from last night. I want you to continue with the Tylenol..."

"As long as I can take them at home," Larabee told her adamantly.

"I didn't say I was releasing you..."

"Hell, Doc, I've been drinking..."

"Yes, you have, but it's still not nearly enough."

"You said one more day..."

"I know, but..."

"Uhuh, Doc, no buts. I can take the Tylenol at home."

"Yes, but you need those IV antibiotics..."

"Nathan was doing them and I'm sure he won't mind making sure I take them again. How many more days have I got on those damn things anyway?"

"Five days. All right, I'll make a deal with you. Breakfast should be here in an hour. You eat..."

"Drink..." he smiled as the doctor laughed.

"Drink what's on your tray and I'll let you go home. Deal?"

"Deal!" Larabee said. "Now if you two would excuse me I'm going to see if I can make up for last night's lack of sleep."

"You go ahead and do that, Chris and I'll be back right after breakfast. Sleep well."

"Think I will, night, Doc."

"Goodnight, Chris," Murphy said as she finished making notations on the chart and handed it to the nurse before leaving.

---

"Chris, breakfast is here."

Larabee shifted on the bed, wincing as he turned over and hooked the IV in the sheets, pulling on the line in his arm. He smiled sheepishly at the nurse standing beside the bed. Pressing the button to raise his head set off fireworks in his skull and he closed his eyes in an effort to stop the mounting nausea.

"Chris, are you okay?"

"Y...yeah, I'm f...fine..." he opened his eyes and smiled in spite of the headache.

"Sure you are. Now what's wrong?"

"Headache," Larabee answered.

"Really," Jane asked, touching his forehead and frowning at the heat she felt there. She reached for the thermometer and pressed it against his right ear.

Chris let his eyes close once more as the nurse took his vitals. He wanted to leave the hospital today, but in order to do that he had to drink the liquid diet they'd brought for him. Forcing his eyes to open, he sat up further in the bed and felt his stomach churning at the idea of drinking anything.

"Chris, your temperature is up again. I'm going to put in a call to Dr. Murphy..."

"Don't. I'm okay. Just need to eat...drink this and get out of here," Larabee grumbled as he reached for the spoon and dipped it into the green Jell-O.

Jane watched as he struggled to eat the first mouthful and knew it wasn't going to stay down as he dropped the spoon onto the table once more. She saw the determination in the handsome visage as the blond sipped at the bland juice.

Larabee felt her watching him and tried to keep from showing the discomfort it caused him as he forced himself to swallow. 'Dammit!' he thought as the churning nausea continued and he knew the liquids were about to make a return trip. He turned on his side and reached for the basin, but found it was already before his mouth. Over and over he heaved until his body had no strength left with which to hold himself up. He lay back against the pillows, closed his eyes and placed his right arm over them.

"I'll be right back, Chris," Jane assured him, before leaving the room.

Chris lay still as chills raced through his body. He reached for the blankets and pulled them up over himself, wondering what the hell was causing him to feel so lousy this morning. The night had been a long one, but at least he'd been able to drink and keep it down. Right now he felt as bad as he had earlier in the week. He had no idea how long he lay there before he heard the door open and someone walking up to his bed.

"Chris?"

Larabee opened his eyes and recognized the worried face of the surgeon. He tried to sit up further, but she placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving.

"Just lie still. Tell me what's going on," she ordered sympathetically.

"I don't know, Doc. Stomach's churning again," the blond answered as Jane came back into the room.

"What about your throat? Is it feeling any better?"

"N...no...not really."

"Alright," she said, patting his shoulder as the nurse reached for his IV. "Jane's giving you the Zofran. What I want to do is check your blood test results. I have a feeling the antibiotics are not working on the infection you have. If that's the case we simply need to put you on a stronger one...probably a cocktail..."

"Whiskey Sour?" The blond smiled as the nurse let out a small laugh.

"Not that kind of cocktail, Chris," Murphy told him.

"Damn, had to try."

"Yes, and I do appreciate your sense of humor. Now you stay put while I check on the results of this morning's blood work," Murphy told him.

"...and sign my discharge papers..."

"Not yet I won't. Sorry, Chris, I want to find out what's going on with you before I release you!"

"Doc..."

"Before you say it I know you could just sign yourself out, but I know you're smarter than that. You need to stay here until we get the next course of antibiotics started and make sure they are working."

"How long?" Larabee asked a put upon expression on his pale face.

"Hopefully just twenty four to forty eight hours."

"Damn..."

"I know, but we need to get you straightened out. We've already discussed what could happen if this infection continues unchecked."

"ARF...still sounds like something a dog would say," the blond answered.

"Yes, it certainly does. Now you keep trying to eat and drink and I'll be right back," Murphy told him. She reached for his chart and walked out through the door, smiling as the nurse began taking her reluctant patient's vital signs. The door closed behind her and she watched two men walking towards her from the elevator. She moved to the desk knowing they'd follow her.

"Hey, Doc, how's Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"Are we taking him home today?" Dunne inquired hopefully.

"I don't think he'll be going home today..."

"What?" the ladies' man asked.

"Why not?" escaped from JD at the same time

"Chris is still running a fever. I'm just going to check his blood work and see if I can figure out where this is coming from. Hopefully it's just a simple matter of adjusting the antibiotics until we find the right one. That may take a day or two longer."

"Damn, how's he taking it?" the rogue asked.

"Surprisingly better than I thought he would," Murphy told them.

"That's what worries me. It's not like Chris to willingly stay in the hospital," Wilmington told her.

"Its not like any of us to stay in the hospital, Buck," Dunne corrected.

"Yeah, Kid, but this is Chris. The most stubborn ornery cuss..."

"That's why you and him have been friends for so long," Dunne said and saw the smile on the doctor's face.

"Ha, ha, Kid. Can we see him, Doc?"

"Yes, but he's had a rough night, so try to keep it to a minimum," the woman warned.

"We will, Doc, thanks," the ladies' man said as he turned JD away from the desk and headed towards Larabee's room.

---

Chris heard the nurse leave and kept his eyes closed. He hated hospitals. Hated being stuck in them, hated visiting people in them, and mostly hated how weak hospitals made him feel. He remembered being here to visit one of his friends when they were ill, and how hard it was to ignore the medicinal smells associated with being sick. He heard the door open again, but still kept his eyes closed, hoping if it was a nurse, doctor or lab tech they'd leave him alone for a while. JD's whispered voice made him smile and open his eyes.

"He's sleeping, Buck, maybe we should leave."

"I'm awake, JD, just resting my eyes," Larabee told them, raising the head of the bed once more.

"Hi, Chris, how're you feeling?" Dunne asked.

"Tired," the blond answered.

"Rough night?" Wilmington asked, recognizing the signs on his friend's face.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep. Hate these damn beds."

"Don't we all," the ladies' man asked.

"Yeah...and don't forget about being woke up and asked if you need a sleeping pill," Dunne quipped, smiling as Larabee laughed lightly.

"Been there, done that," the blond assured him. "What time is it anyway? Shouldn't you two be at the office?"

"It's a little after ten, me and Buck took an early lunch in case you were getting out of here," the kid answered.

"It doesn't look like it. At least not today," Larabee answered tiredly.

"Yeah, that's what Doc Murphy told us. She's looking at the results of your tests now," Wilmington told him.

"Yeah, she thinks the problem is the antibiotics," the blond told him.

"Again, thought she'd straightened all that out," the rogue stated.

"I did too, but she thinks I need stronger ones."

"Damn, Chris, I wish there was something we could do."

"You are, Kid. Thanks for coming by," Larabee assured the younger man. He shifted on the bed and looked towards the door as it opened and Jane came back into the room carrying a small bag in her right hand.

"Chris, Dr. Murphy wants to start you on a different antibiotic. It's a stronger cocktail..."

"Sex on the beach?" Wilmington asked, causing JD to laugh heartedly.

"No, I'm afraid not," the nurse told him. "Just plain antibiotics right now."

"Damn, sorry, Chris, I tried," the ladies' man said.

"I did too," Larabee told him as the nurse hooked up the bag. "Asked for a Whiskey Sour. Dr. Murphy didn't agree to it."

"Maybe we can sneak you in one," Dunne smiled conspiratorially.

"You try it and I'll have you banned from the hospital," Jane said, smiling at the look on the young man's face.

"I wouldn't...besides he's taking pain medication and it wouldn't be good to mix alcohol and morphine," Dunne told her.

"That's right, it wouldn't be, and don't forget that when you go home, Chris," the nurse said as she set the rate for the antibiotics.

"I won't," Larabee said as she turned to go. "Now, boys, as I see it you've got two choices."

"We do?" the young Bostonian asked.

"That's right. You can sit here and watch me sleep, because right now that's what I'm going to do..."

"Or?" Wilmington asked.

"Go back to the office and finish your paperwork..."

"What makes you think we haven't done..."

"JD, I know you boys. If there's paperwork to be done it's the last thing you do. I'm sure there's a stack of it on your desks that you can put a dent into since I'm still stuck in here. Ask, Josiah if he'll take care of the stuff on my desk. Tell him I'd appreciate it," Larabee said, closing his eyes and pulling the blankets up over his body. He smiled as he heard JD's voice and Wilmington's answer.

"How did he know, Buck?"

"JD, think about it, Chris has been out of the office for over a week...and he knows how much we all hate paperwork."

"Yeah, guess he feels the same way."

"You got that right, Kid," Larabee said sleepily. "Turn off the lights on your way out."

"Sure, Chris. See you later," Dunne told him as he flicked off the lights and closed the door.

---

Chris slept through most of the day, waking only when a nurse came in to check his vitals or when they brought something for him to drink. In spite of the pain it caused he managed to take several sips from what they brought and was feeling pleased with himself when the rest of the guys showed up just after six in the evening.

"Evening, Boys."

"Evening, Chris, how are you feeling?" Jackson asked.

"Better...I think.," Larabee answered. "Even better if the paperwork is completed."

"Well, let's see," Sanchez said rubbing the stubble on his chin. "My desk is clear. Vin?"

"Yep, and all filed away. Buck?"

"Made sure I dotted every I and crossed every T. JD?"

"Mine's done and I helped you remember, Ezra?"

"Affirmative, Mr. Dunne. I do believe there is not a scrap of paper on or near my desk. Mr. Jackson?"

"Didn't have much to do anyway. Now if only we could get that slack boss of ours to take care of the mountain of shit on his desk."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Jackson. What would Mr. Travis say if he compared Mr. Larabee's desk to ours. Not a very good impression you're making Mr. Larabee."

Chris had lain back against his pillow, smiling as his men continued to talk, before finally opening his mouth to speak. "Well now it seems to me I've picked up the slack quite a lot with you boys so it's about time you made up for my absence."

"Well, I guess we could help out," Dunne began. "Josiah, you have any matches?"

"JD, you do that and I'll make sure your pay check ends up in the furnace," Larabee said as the door opened and a nurse entered the room.

"My, my, I do believe I've struck pay dirt. I don't think I've ever seen such a handsome group since...well since I was a young woman and my mother told me about Chippendales. Tell me when the show is boys and I'll be front and center."

"Hi, Molly, these are the men I told you about," Larabee smiled at the older woman and saw a sparkle in her eyes as she looked at each man.

"The ones that work with you/"

"Yes," the sick man answered as she wrapped a BP cuff around his arm.

"Well, damn, but maybe you boys should think about getting an audition. I know a lot of women who'd pay to see a little...or a lot of skin," Molly Summerton explained and smiled as the younger man blushed.

"Well, Molly, I'll make you a deal," Sanchez said.

"What kind of deal?" the nurse asked.

"You try out for the ladies equivalent of Chippendales and we'll...."

"Well now, I don't believe any man would pay to see my skin, unless I iron it out first," the nurse laughed as she finished taking Larabee's readings. "Now, Chris, I'll be going home shortly, but if there's anything you need before then just press the button. Okay?"

"Okay," Larabee said as the silver haired woman walked towards the door. "Molly."

"Yes, Chris?"

"Don't put yourself down...you're still beautiful," the blond told her and was pleased when she smiled before leaving the room.

"Nice, Chris," Wilmington said.

"Okay, boys, so what's happening at the office? Anything I should know about?"

"The St. Charles case is just about wrapped up," Tanner told him.

"Did you find out where he hid the diamonds?" the blond asked.

"Sure did," Wilmington said.

"Where?" Larabee asked.

"Seems like Mr. St. Charles had a fetish no one knew about," Standish explained.

"St. Charles? Mr. by the book himself." Larabee looked from one man to the other before Vin spoke.

"He had a thing for women's padded bras!"

"What kind of thing?"

"Seems he had a small closet with them pinned to the wall inside a hidden compartment of his office closet. It was a regular zoo in there."

"What are you talking about, Vin?" Larabee asked, but the story was picked up by JD who couldn't quite stop laughing.

"He had three black striped bras pinned to the wall in the shape of a letter and a small index card with the word Z-BRA written on it.'

"You're kidding?" Larabee laughed and winced as the movement hurt his throat.

"No, and you'll never guess what the ah..."

"Nipples, JD," Wilmington finished as the younger man blushed.

"Yeah, nipples were?" Dunne asked.

"Don't tell me...the diamonds!"

"Yep, nice as you please they were set in the center of the black and white Z-BRA," Wilmington told him.

"We also found several Rubies from the same hoist," Sanchez said.

"Yes, and it's simply amazing that Mr. St. Charles has such a vivid imagination," Standish explained.

"I take it he's in custody?" Larabee asked.

"Yes, he is and we can close the book on that one thank God," Jackson answered.

"Ah, come on, Nate, it was nice to work on a case where the worst thing that came at you was a bra," Wilmington said, smiling lewdly at the medic.

"Anything else I should know about?" Larabee asked as he shifted to find a more comfortable position.

"Not really," Sanchez said.

"Not really?" the sick man asked tiredly.

"Nothing's changed with the McCloud case. The woman still insists she shot her husband in self-defence. He still says she was out to kill him, but I'm not so sure of that anymore," Jackson explained.

"Why?"

"It seems Ron McCloud was having an affair and on the nights he was supposed to be out of town on business he was really at his mistress's home."

"Did Mrs. McCloud know about this?" Larabee asked.

"Now that's where things get a little twisted. Mrs. McCloud swears she had no idea this was going on and the night she shot her husband he was supposed to be in New York on business. She says she forgot to set the alarm and when she heard a noise downstairs she went to investigate and grabbed her husband's gun from his dresser. Fool could've stopped this if he'd only locked the weapon away," Sanchez explained.

"He shouldn't have been allowed a weapon in the first place," Dunne said.

"JD, most people who have weapons shouldn't have been given a license for one, but that's not the problem in this case. We need to find out whether Mrs. McCloud really did shoot him on purpose," Wilmington told him.

"Have you uncovered anything that suggests she did?" Larabee asked.

"Not really, but she seems genuinely sorry in spite of the fact that he's been having several affairs behind her back. She's also got another problem to contend with," Jackson told them. "He's been having unprotected sex for years and now she has to go through the screening process for AIDS."

"Damn," Larabee silently cursed.

"Exactly," the medic said.

"I still think she's innocent," Wilmington said.

"I hope so...she's been through enough," Larabee said and wished there was something more they could do. He didn't realize he'd drifted toward sleep until whispered words reached his ears and he forced his eyes open once more. "Sorry, Boys."

"No need to apologize, Mr. Larabee. Perhaps we should depart and let you get your rest," Standish suggested.

"I'm okay," the blond assured them, but yawned in spite of his best efforts.

"It's okay, Chris, go ahead and sleep. I'll be back in the morning to pick you up," Tanner said as the men got ready to leave.

"If they let him go," Jackson corrected.

"Not if, Nate, I'm getting out of here tomorrow. Sick and..."

"Sick is right, Chris, and it's time you realized that. Remember what the doctor told you about infections and how dangerous they are. Right now your immune system has been on overdrive and even the antibiotics are not doing what they're supposed to. These setbacks are not helping either," Jackson said and silently cursed as he saw the look of guilt cross JD's face.

"It wasn't your fault, JD," Larabee assured the youngest member of his team, but knew Dunne did not believe him. "JD, remember Hoover!"

"Yeah, I will," Dunne said, but the lightness wasn't in his voice.

"JD, you were trying to help..."

"Didn't help much..."

"This probably would have happened anyway," Larabee said and hoped he was getting through to JD. "Dr. Murphy said it was bound to happen since I'm so stubborn..."

"Bull headed..."

"Obstinate..."

"Pigheaded..."

"All right...I think JD gets the point," Larabee said, smiling sheepishly at the men he called 'brothers'.

"Yes, I do, and Chris, I wouldn't want you to be any other way," Dunne said as he looked into the blond's eyes.

"Thanks, Kid, now get out of here before the nurses kick you out!" Larabee said and watched his friends leave. As soon as they were gone he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and made his way to the washroom. He quickly took care of his needs and leaned heavily on the pole as he made his way back to the bed. His throat ached each time he swallowed and the dull pounding in his skull had picked up its tempo as his vision blurred. He was halfway to the bed when he felt his body sway and grabbed for something to steady himself against. He didn't hear the door open, but was grateful when a steadying hand fell on his arm.

"Easy, Chris, let's get you back to bed."

"T...thanks...got dizzy."

"I see, why don't we get you settled and I'll check your vitals?"

"Okay," the blond agreed as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Lie back," the nurse ordered.

"Hmm."

"Head hurting?"

"Exploding."

"How's the throat feeling?"

"Hurts...guess I should've stuck to my three words a day."

"Sounds like it. As soon as I get your vitals I'll bring you something for pain and nausea."

"Thanks...sorry for being such a pain."

"Chris, you're my patient and I have never once called one of my patients a pain and I don't intend to start now. From what I've seen on your chart you've been sick for a while now."

"Feels like forever," Larabee muttered tiredly.

"I bet it does. Hopefully this is the right antibiotic cocktail and it'll start to work for you. I'll be right back with your meds," the nurse explained.

"Thanks, Jenny," the blond whispered and closed his eyes once more. The pain in his head continued to escalate and he had no idea how much time passed before the nurse came back into the room. He forced his eyes open and watched as she placed a syringe into the juncture of his IV.

"That should help. Your call button is right here and don't hesitate to use it if you need anything. Okay?"

"O...okay, thanks."

"Good night, Chris."

"Good night," Larabee said as the blankets were tucked around him. The lights were closed and the door left partially open as Chris felt the meds begin to take effect. It wasn't long before he was sleeping and a thin smile was born on his lips as he thought of his son and the time he'd had his tonsils removed. The child was in and out on the same day, nothing like what his father was going through right now.

---

Chris awoke to a thin stream of sunlight across his face. He turned away and kept his eyes closed for a few moments longer, but the sounds of early morning hospital routine reminded him where he was. Shifting slightly he pressed the button and raised the head of the bed as a lab technician entered the room.

"Mr. Larabee, I need to get a few precious drops of blood from you."

Chris smiled at the young woman and held his arms out straight. "Which one do you want?"

"The left," the tech said and wrapped a piece of rubber tubing around his arm. She quickly found a vein and in less than a minute had two vials of blood and thanked him before leaving. Next came the day shift nurse and she checked his IV, set up a new bag of antibiotics and took his vitals.

"Breakfast should be here in a few minutes, Mr. Larabee," Marilyn Turner assured him before leaving him alone once more. The third person through the door was someone he greeted with a smile in spite of the exhaustion he felt.

"Hi, Vin."

"Morning, Chris, has Dr. Murphy been in yet?"

"No, she should be here anytime."

"Had breakfast?"

"Not yet," Larabee answered. "Not hungry anyway."

"Chris..."

"Yeah, I know, Vin and believe me I've been trying."

"I know, Cowboy, and that's all we ask."

"Good morning, Chris," Carolyn Murphy smiled as she entered Larabee's room and saw that he already had company.

"Morning, Doc, tell me I'm getting out of here this morning."

"Well, I had a look at your latest blood work and things are looking up. Your WBC count is down a little and so is your temperature. Let me take a look at your throat and see how it's doing, okay?"

"Sounds good," Larabee said as the Texan moved out of the way.

"Open your mouth," Murphy ordered and placed a tongue depressor in his mouth and shone a light inside. She was quiet for a few seconds and finally removed the depressor and disposed of it as she put away the light.

"Well?" Larabee asked.

"Well, I'd like to keep you..."

"Doc!"

"But I know how anxious you are to go home and I'm sure your friends will make sure you do everything you're supposed to."

"You have no idea," Larabee said and saw the smile on Tanner's face.

"Well, in that case I'll sign the discharge papers and you can leave as soon as the nurse removes your IV..."

"Thank God!"

"And puts in a heplock!"

"Damn..."

"Nice try, Cowboy," Tanner said.

"Yes, well, Chris, I want to continue these antibiotics for at least another four days..."

"Four days!"

"That's right and I expect to see you in my office in one week and we'll discuss whether you should go back to work or not. Now then if you'll excuse me I'll see about getting you out of here by lunch."

"Thanks, Doc," Larabee said and slid his legs over the side. "Vin, get my clothes!"

"Slow down, Pard, might as well wait until the nurse takes the IV out and see what they're bringing you for breakfast."

"I can still get dressed while I'm waiting."

"A little anxious, Cowboy?"

"More than a little. Come on, Vin, you can't say you'd want to sit here when escape is so close?"

"Hell, Chris, I'd'a been out that door in my skivvies if'n it was me!"

"Then hand me my damn clothes," Larabee grinned as the Texan moved to the small closet and opened the door.

---

Chris smiled as he sat in the wheelchair and was pushed out of the room. Several nurses came to say goodbye and told him to be careful when vacuuming and smiled as they watched the anxious man sit forward in the chair.

"Take care, Chris," Molly called from the desk.

"Thanks, Molly, hope I don't see you for a long time...least not as a patient."

"Amen to that. Remember what Dr. Murphy said and keep trying different foods."

"I will, Molly, bye," Larabee said as the orderly pushed his chair into the elevator. The short ride down seemed longer than normal, but Chris understood why he felt that way. He knew he was overacting, but he didn't want to spend another minute in the hospital.

"I'll bring the car around."

"Forget it, Vin. Take the bag and lets walk. I need the fresh air," Larabee ordered and stood up. He thanked the orderly and hurried towards the parking lot. Within a couple of minutes he was seated in Tanner's Jeep wrangler and let his head rest back against the seat. Closing his eyes he smiled as the Texan climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted, but it's good to be out of there."

"I bet. Why don't you just relax and we'll be home in no time."

"Sounds like a plan to me, Vin," Larabee said and smiled as the sun warmed his face.

---

"Hey, Cowboy, we're here," Tanner said and touched Larabee's shoulder, but still received no answer. He'd stopped by Delvecchio's deli and picked up a couple of bowls of Mama Delvecchio's chicken noodle soup. It was one of Larabee's favorites and he hoped the blond would be able to keep it down. "Chris, it's time ta wake up."

"Leave me be," Larabee grumbled, but sat up as he remembered where he was. He rubbed his eyes and winced as the light stabbed at his skull. "Damn."

"Headache?"

"No thanks, already got one."

"Come on, Larabee. You'll feel better once you're in your own bed," the Texan assured his friend as they exited the jeep and walked toward the house.

"Wait a minute...thought you were taking me to my place?"

"Figured it'd be easier fer me ta keep an eye on ya here. Nate'll be out in an hour ta start your antibiotics."

"Shit, thought maybe I'd dreamed that part," Larabee stated as the Texan opened the door.

"Nope, come on, Larabee, yer bed awaits," Tanner aid and held the door for his friend. It was a testament to how lousy the blond was feeling when Chris headed straight for the spare bedroom. A room that he used whenever he spent the night at Tanner's ranch. He had several changes of clothes hanging in the closet and extra toiletries were in the small bathroom.

Chris walked straight to the room he'd be sleeping in and looked longingly at the bed before making a beeline for the bathroom. Fresh towels were hung on the rack and he quickly discarded his clothes and stepped into the shower stall. He adjusted the water to the right temperature before stepping under the hot spray. Sighing contentedly he let the steam and heat massage his weary body for several long minutes before reaching for the bottle of shampoo. He massaged the shampoo into his hair and once more stood under the hot spray. The water made his skin tingle as he took a cloth and reached for the body wash. It didn't take long to lather his body and once more rinse the soap off. He stood under the spray longer than necessary, luxuriating in the feel of the water soothing away the aches and pains of being confined to a bed for so long.

Chris reluctantly turned off the water and stepped onto the blue mat on the bathroom floor. He reached for the thick white bath sheet and dried the glistening droplets of water from his face and chest. By the time he'd completed his bathroom rituals he was exhausted and realized he'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the room. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Chris walked out of the bathroom and over to the dresser where he kept his clothes.

"Feel better?" Tanner asked. He'd listened for any sign that the blond was in trouble and was relieved when he heard the water shut off. Chris Larabee looked tired and Vin knew there was still a lot of healing to do, but there was no doubt in his mind that the blond was stubborn enough to beat whatever infections this illness through at him.

"Yeah, just tired." Larabee said, pulling on the CK boxers before reaching for his jeans.

"Why don't you get under the covers and I'll bring ya some lunch?"

"Lunch? What time is it?"

"Nearly twelve."

"Damn, forget lunch, Vin. Think I'm just..."

"No way, Cowboy. I'm not gonna be the one ta tell Mrs. Delvecchio that ya didn't eat her soup after she made it 'specially fer ya!"

The blond's eyes brightened slightly and he smiled at the thought of the older woman who acted like a mother hen coddling her chicks. "Chicken noodle?"

"Yep, she even put in some of her special noodles."

"Sounds good, Vin," Larabee said, reaching for his robe.

"Why don't ya stay put and I'll bring it in here?"

Chris reluctantly put his robe back on the chair and nodded his head. Truth was if he tried to stand he'd probably end up flat on his face. He watched the Texan leave before letting the exhaustion and pain show on his face. Reaching behind him he grabbed several pillows and piled them on top of each other before climbing under the blankets. Almost immediately he felt his mind drifting toward sleep, but forced his eyelids open when he heard the tracker return.

"Jesus, Cowboy, gotta stay awake long enough ta eat this."

"Sorry, just don't have much energy," Larabee said and smiled as Tanner placed the tray across his legs. The soup smelled delicious and for once Chris' stomach didn't rebel at the idea of drinking it. He lifted the cup and sipped the flavorful broth before nodding appreciatively.

"It's good?"

"Better believe it. Mrs. Delvecchio could bottle this and sell it to the hospitals."

"Yeah, she could, but I kinda like the idea that she makes it specially fer us," the Texan said.

"Where's yours?"

"Ate it while ya were in the shower. Someone's comin'."

"How the hell do you do that?" Larabee asked when several minutes later they heard a knock at the door.

"Instincts," Tanner said and hurried toward the door. He opened it and smiled as the medic stepped inside.

"How's he doing, Vin?"

"Tired...smells better though."

"I heard that," Larabee said, smiling inwardly as the two men entered the bedroom.

"Well, Chris, he's right. You were beginning to smell rather ripe," Jackson said and looked into the cup Larabee was sipping from. "Mrs. D's?"

"Yep, picked it up on the way home. Figured maybe it'd tempt the stubborn cuss," Tanner said with a grin.

"Chris, I need to hook up the antibiotics. Do you need anything for nausea?"

"No, this is going down real good," the blond answered and finished the last of the soup.

"All right." Jackson moved the supplies he brought with him to the dresser and quickly set up the antibiotics and had it running into Larabee's arm.

Chris lay back against the pillow and frowned as Nathan added something to the IV juncture. "What the hell is that?"

"Just the medication Dr. Murphy ordered. It'll probably help you sleep too," Jackson told him.

"Ya need it, Chris. I saw yer face when ya were drinkin' the soup. Throat's still hurtin', right?"

"A bit, but I could have done without the medication."

"I tell you what I'll do, Chris. You let the medication help you this time and from now on I'll ask," Jackson told him.

"Damn sneaky," Larabee grumbled, closing his eyes and letting the medication ease the torment in his throat. He felt Jackson take his arm and soon felt the BP cuff attached, but was drifting deeper into sleep by the time Tanner removed the extra pillows from behind his head.

"Vin, he'll probably sleep the rest of the day. Travis gave me the rest of the day off, so I'm going to stick around."

"Thanks, Nate. Ya know that was pretty sneaky with the pain meds?"

"I know, and thanks for letting me know he was hiding how lousy he felt."

"How long do you think it'll be before he's feeling better?"

"Hell if I know right now. The antibiotics are amongst the strongest available, so we should be seeing some improvement before long." Jackson checked the IV and was satisfied that it was running fine.

"I'm going to take a ride over ta Chris' place and take Pony out fer a run. Help yerself ta anything ya want."

"Thanks, Vin, I will," Jackson said. He eased the covers up over the sleeping blond and followed the Texan into the living room.

---

Things were finally beginning to look up for Chris Larabee and he smiled as Carolyn Murphy entered the examination room. She held his chart in her hands and placed it on the table next to the bed.

"Well, Chris, I must say you look a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"Feel better too, Doc, much better."

"What about eating?"

"Well, I haven't tried anything solid yet, but pastas and soups are going down easy."

"And staying down?"

"Yes," Larabee answered with a grin.

"That is good news. Let's have a look at your throat," Murphy ordered.

Chris opened his mouth and felt the tongue depressor inside his mouth. His throat was not quite healed, but at least speaking and swallowing didn't set off the burning pain it had up until four days ago. He winced when she pressed a little too hard and was glad when she removed it. "Well?"

"Well, I must say I'm very pleased with your recovery now that the infection seems to have cleared up," Murphy explained.

"So I can go back to work?"

"I can't see why not as long as you take it easy. You'll probably find you tire easy and that's going to happen for a while. Just make sure you rest when your body demands it."

"I will, Doc, thanks for everything."

"You're welcome. I just wish it hadn't been such an ordeal for you, but it does happen quite often with adults. That's one of the reasons we're reluctant when it comes to taking them out."

"Tell me about it. If I'd known then what I know now I would've said thanks, but no thanks," Larabee stated.

"I'm afraid with you there really wasn't any other option."

"Oh, I don't know. Could have just shot me and put me out of everyone's misery," Larabee said with a grin.

"I'll keep that in mind should they grow back!"

"Shit, Doc, don't even joke about something like that!"

"Sorry," Murphy chuckled. "Mums the word."

"Exactly." Larabee said and stood up. He shook hands with the woman and assured her he would call the office should he have any problems. With that promise Chris hurried out of the building and across to his truck. He knew the others were still at the office and would be waiting for his call, but he would simply show up there. Traffic was light at this time of the day and Chris made it to the office in less than fifteen minutes. He parked in his reserved spot and hurried into the building, nodding to several people he recognized before getting into the elevator and making his way to the tenth floor. He exited and walked along the hallway toward The Firm office and leaned against the open door.

Vin looked up at the sound of footsteps and smiled when he saw the team's leader leaning against the door. He knew by the look on Larabee's face that the news was good. "Hey, cowboy, how'd it go?"

"Doc cleared me to go back to work," the blond answered and entered the room. The others gathered round him, patting him on the back and joking about the ordeal that was finally coming to an end. Chris was back where he belonged and with the help of his friends would make a complete recovery.

---

10 years later

Chris looked up from the file he'd been reading and looked expectantly at Vin Tanner. They were interviewing several possible team members and so far their luck hadn't been very good. JD and Ezra had narrowed the list of names down to four possibilities and Chris could see the newcomer standing just behind the Texan.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Cowboy?"

"He's the last one, right?"

"Yep, ain't got a lot goin' fer 'im though, but I guess it's one of them don't judge the book by the cover things," Tanner said.

"Send him in, Vin, maybe he'll surprise us," Larabee said and closed the file. He studied the young man who entered his office and motioned for him to have a seat.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Larabee."

"You're here about the opening we need in computer graphics and technology," the blond stated.

"Yes, Sir," Jeremy Talbot answered, nervously rubbing his hands on his knees.

"Take it easy, Kid, I don't bite," Larabee said with a grin.

"No, Sir, I mean yes, Sir...I..."

"How old are you?" Larabee asked, opening the last folder on his desk.

"Twenty four, Sir, but I know what I'm doing. I know what I'm doing, Mr. Larabee."

"I'm sure you do, Jeremy...Talbot," Larabee frowned as he said the name. Something about it made his throat tighten up and swallowing soon became a painful reminder of another time and another place. "Talbot."

"Is something wrong, Mr. Larabee?"

"I'm not sure." The blond studied the young man's face and there was something familiar about his eyes. "Jeremy, by any chance do you still have your tonsils?"

"My tonsils? Why do you need to know that?"

"I don't need to, but I seem to remember meeting you before," Larabee said.

"Chris, I'm headin' out. See ya tonight!"

"Sure, Vin."

"Everything all right?"

"It's fine," Larabee said and watched the Texan leave. "Now, Jeremy, you didn't answer my question."

"I...yes, Sir, I had my tonsils out ten years ago, Mr...Oh my God," Talbot said as realization dawned.

"You are the same Jeremy Talbot?" Larabee said, smiling in spite of the not so pleasant reminder of the past.

"Yes, Sir," Talbot said, eyes downcast as he thought about the hell he'd put this man through and how it could cost him the job he was applying for.

"Are you still into rap music?"

"No, Sir, for some reason I'd rather listen to soft rock or new country."

"Good, seems you've developed good taste over the years. You certainly have the credentials for the job," Larabee said and again read the dossier on the potential employee.

"Mr. Larabee, I promise you won't be sorry if you just give me a chance," Talbot said hopefully.

"You better, Kid, don't make me regret giving you this chance," Larabee said and closed the file.

"Does that mean..."

"You start on Monday."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir..."

"Easy, Jeremy, it's not an easy job and there's always a potential for dangerous situations."

"I know, but it sure beats sitting in an office typing all day."

"Yes, that it does," Larabee said when the young man stood up to leave.

"See you Monday morning, Mr. Larabee."

"Sure, Kid, oh..."

"Yes, Sir?"

"If I hear a single shizzle my nizzle it'll be the unemployment line for you! Understood?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Larabee."

Chris watched his new employee leave the office and leaned back in his chair. The years had been hard on them all, but the team was still together. Josiah was semi retired and yet he worked as hard as the rest of them. Nathan and Rain were married and had three year twin girls named Christine and Rain. He'd stood up for both of them and was always pleased when Rain brought them two to the ranch. JD had finally asked Casey to marry him and they had left the week before on their honeymoon. Buck and Inez had eloped a year ago and they'd been blessed with a baby boy they'd called Adam Vincent. It was a wonderful gift and he'd been proud they'd chosen Adam's name. Vin was engaged to Jackie Maynard and the duo was expecting their first child in less than a month. Ezra Standish had married Antoinette Devereux and the couple had adopted two eight year old boys who had lost their parents in a fire. They bought a house on the outskirts of Billings and Antoinette now worked as a nurse at Saint Vincents.

"Chris, are you ready to go?"

Larabee smiled and pushed his chair back, laughing as a small blond girl ran toward him. He lifted her into his arms at the same time his wife reached him. "How are my two favorite ladies?"

"I ain't a lady, Daddy! Vin says..."

"Ah, hell..."

"Chris, watch what you say," Anne Larabee warned. They'd been married in a quiet ceremony nearly four years ago and Sarah Nettie Larabee had been born exactly nine months later. The three year old was a precocious child and Nettie Wells doted on her.

"Daddy said a bad word..."

"Yes, I did, Honey, and I'm sorry."

"'Polgy 'cepted. Are we going home now?"

"Anne, is there anything we need to pick up?"

"No, Sweetheart. I think we have everything we need. I'm looking forward to a quiet weekend."

"Quiet? With everyone coming over?" Larabee asked, walking out of the office and locking up behind him.

"Sure, just one big..."

"One very big..."

"Happy fam'ly," Sarah finished. She happily grabbed her parent's hands as they walked toward the elevator. The seven families had melded into one and they'd never been closer.

Chris looked at his wife, smiling contentedly in the fact that his family was growing by leaps and bounds and that Jeremy Talbot could very well become another kid adopted by the seven.

"I love you, Chris," Anne said when they entered the elevator and he kissed her cheek.

"I love you too, Anne, with everything I am and everything I own," Chris said the words and knew they'd never been truer than they were right now. He loved Anne Larabee with every beat of his heart and he smiled when he pulled his family close. Life was good and his family was safe and as long as The Firm was in existence they would make sure it stayed that way. For seven was indeed a holy number and had been since the dawn of time.

THE END