Memories of a Fallen Angel
By Tracy


"Gallagher's Art Gallery
Opening August 1st
Exhibition: The Beauty of the Human Form."

Chris Larabee read out the invitation in a carefully neutral voice. "We are all invited to the Private Party at 7.30pm this Friday." He glanced up at his men. "Mrs. Travis has invited us specifically," he added in a meaningful tone. His green gaze drifted cross the other six men and saw objections on five disgruntled faces. He wasn’t surprised. This was the sort of thing only Ezra could enjoy.

"Chris?" JD started slowly. Chris looked at his youngest agent blandly and his lack of expression was enough to bring the young man to stammering halt.

"We are all going," Chris said with finality, " and you can thank Vin and Ezra for the invitation later."

"What have I got to do with it?" Vin demanded, raising his eyebrow curiously.

"Don't you remember," JD was keen to explain, " you and Ez were talking with Mrs. Travis at the Swanson's Charity Ball last month, and she was with that flamboyant artist and his partner."

"Shoot!" Vin grumbled, remembering. "He said..."

"He said since we appeared to be interested in one of his statues we would love to see his exhibition and he'd ensure we were given a invitation," Ezra finished for him with a smirk.

"Yeah," Buck laughed. "So guess we all get to go. Although I like the title - The Beauty of the Human Form. Does it say anything else, Chris?"

"No, only it's a collection of art works all dedicated the beauty of the human form."

"Bet they don't look human after the artists get to them," Nathan murmured dryly.

Chris grinned sourly. "It's a black tie affair."

Vin pulled a face and Buck laughed. Chris dropped the invite on the nearest desk, Josiah's, and raised his eyebrow. "Okay back to work. These reports won't write themselves. And Ezra, if I have to look up one word in the dictionary this time - you'll be rewriting yours by hand."

Ignoring the chuckles, Ezra met his leader's face with hurt innocence. " Is this the thanks I get for endeavouring to broaden your vocabulary, Mr Larabee?"

"Yep," Chris grinned and went back into his office.

************************************************************************
Friday Night: 7.30pm

The opening of a new art gallery was a big event in the social calendar and the invitations to this private party had been sent out with a view to maximising both contacts and potential sales. The only piece of frivolity had been the invitation of Team Seven ATF and that was more because the artist/owner, Doug Lyall, had been intrigued by Mrs. Travis's stories of the seven men and by his personal meeting with two of them. The Artist had found Ezra P. Standish rather appealing much to the amusement of his domestic partner, Pete Scanner.

Chris Larabee hated these social affairs with a passion. He gritted his teeth when forced to endure some of the more social - but thankfully sparse - events that his job entailed. This was more than torture. It was going to be sheer and utter boredom. He cast an experienced eye over his men and restrained a smile at their various discomforts. JD was running his finger between his shirt and neck, looking like his collar was choking him. Chris knew enough to recognise Buck had tied his bowtie for him. As their youngest member, JD seldom wore anything more than jeans and a t-shirt off duty and would have rented his suit. Buck, on the other hand, wore the tuxedo as if born to the high life. Exuding comfort, sophistication and elegance, Buck was one of the fortunate few who could look at home anywhere. Vin nearly made Chris laugh out loud. The sharpshooter's hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail and he was obviously uncomfortable being here. His hand kept reaching behind as if to check that no one had cut off his hair while he wasn't looking. It was causing Ezra no little amusement either, Chris thought as his gaze flicked over his undercover agent. Ezra, as smart as ever, was rearranging Josiah's bowtie. Nathan met Chris's eyes ruefully.

"Lets go in."

"How long do we have to stay?" JD asked quietly as Chris handed in their invitation at the door and the doorman counted heads.

"A couple of hours at the most," Chris instructed. He looked at them. "Play nice." And ignored the snorts that greeted his words.

The Gallagher Gallery was not very large as they soon found out but it had many little alcoves. They found Mrs. Travis standing with Lyall and Scanner in one of the first ground floor alcoves, sipping the obligatory champagne and greeting the guests.

Chris led his men up to them.

Lyall's eyes widened as he saw the seven men, and his look of admiration was not lost on any of them. His black eyes gazed the longest at Chris with a puzzled expression which abruptly cleared as Mrs Travis introduced them all.

"I don't think it does you justice at all. Although you were young," Lyall muttered as he shook Chris's hand.

Chris frowned. "What?"

"You ought to have a look on the third floor, alcove D," Scanner advised. "And come and talk to us. We'd like to know..." he trailed off awkwardly.

Chris shrugged and after a few words, the team split up to view the art gallery. JD was taken under Josiah and Nathan's wings and the three men started on the first floor. Josiah's booming voice enumerated the various styles in the sculptures they were seeing. He sounded knowledgeable enough but then there wasn't a lot Josiah didn't know something about.

Ezra and Vin both went looking for the waiter with the champagne tray. Ezra because it was d’rigeur to be sipping champagne, Vin because he felt like he needed something to drink if he was going to have to stay in this environment for two whole hours. Ezra was gossiping lightly and blending seamlessly into his environment almost out of habit.

Chris headed straight for the stairs with Buck on his heels, a sudden suspicion in his mind. He brushed past people milling around and headed straight for Alcove D. As he approached he heard voices. The words slowly resolved into certainty of what he would find and he felt the back of his neck growing red.

"Such beauty, the photographer's a genius. I mean look how he's cast the light behind his model."

"I know. It looks like a fallen angel come to earth. Apparently these are the only known photos taken by Mr B.T. Yardley."

"Such a pity; such talent going to waste. I wonder if any are for sale."

The two women were discussing a group of photographs taken by Mr B T Yardley. There were about eight in total. Each was large but the three black & whites were the largest. They were the ones gaining the most attention.

Chris froze and stared at them. He heard Buck's muttered, "Shit," behind him, but didn't turn.

The five colour pictures showed a group of military men relaxing in their barracks: lying on bunks, playing cards, in various states of undress that revealed their youthful muscular forms. They obviously got on well together as their smiling faces attested.

The three black & whites were totally different. Part of a collection, called "Fallen Angel", they showed the same man in various poses. The first revealed the tall man, beautiful of form and face, leaning against a window, looking out. The sunlight cascaded from the window highlighting blond hair and the shape of strong muscles and there was a stillness depicting peace and contentment that reached out from the photo.

The man looked no more than twenty-four; Chris knew the man had been twenty-one.

The second was... Chris looked at it then glanced back at Buck. The second was that same man sleeping, naked on top of a bed. The same window was in the right corner of the frame. There was just something beautiful about the photo as if the artist had captured a special moment not always capable of translating on to film.

Chris looked at the third picture and fought to keep his embarrassment from being self-evident.

The third – and largest of all - picture showed the blond man leaning against the window frame, looking to the bed. The corner of which was evident in the photo. Hands on the sill, long legs stretched out in front, completely and utterly naked. The light casting interesting shadows on his groin area. The man's face open, relaxed, smiling, and young, very young. It was indeed the face of a fallen angel.

It was also the face of a young Chris Larabee.

The two women turned and gasped as they saw Chris and their eyes flickered from the pictures to the man. Chris ignored them. Stepping closer he reached out and brushed the glass covering the prints as memories flooded back. Memories he had not thought about for a good many years.


The cabin was small but comfortable. One bedroom, a bathroom and a living area and all situated on the edge of the lake. After the last fourteen months it was so nice to be on furlow. It was nice to have six weeks where you could simply please yourself. Chris grinned and turned over in the large king size bed. He reached under the covers and heard the grunt Buck gave as his fingers finally reached the spot they were after.

After a moment Buck laughed and turned to face him. "You want my attention? You got it."

"Good." Chris was surprised at the purr in his voice. He inched closer and fondled Buck's morning hard-on with pleasure. Buck laughed joyously and sprawled on to his back allowing Chris full rein. "Today Chris, you promised."

"Promised what?" Chris teased, knowing well what Buck was after.

"You'll let me take some pictures of you." Buck arched his back, moaning as Chris continued his ministrations. It wouldn't be long now, Chris knew, before Buck's hands would be returning the favor. Buck couldn't keep still and just let someone pleasure him. He had to return the pleasure. It just wasn't his nature to be selfish, when it came to sex or anything else for that matter.

"Just for your pleasure." Chris warned feeling a bit dubious about being Buck's subject.

"Spoilsport. You look like a fallen angel when you're sleeping." Buck's eyes widened and locked on Chris's and Chris lost himself in the warmth of Buck's affection and skilful love-making.


Chris touched the one of him sleeping.

"Chris?"

"You didn't sell them," Chris said slowly, knowing it was the truth.

"Of course not." Buck sounded indignant and hurt.

"Then why?" Chris felt strange as if he were about to fall to pieces and he didn't know why. The pictures pulled at him and all of a sudden he felt fragile. It was not a feeling he was comfortable with and his first impulse was to strike out at Buck. Verbally or physically it made no difference. But his eyes caught on the third picture. He was leaning on the window frame, grinning at Buck.


Buck was laid width wise on the bed, twisting his body into unusual shapes to get the camera angled right.

"If I didn't know any better I'd believe you want to take pictures of my dick, not me."

"Now that's a thought," Buck twisted the angle sightly. "That's it."

Chris laughed and moved his legs wider apart so Buck's attention was suddenly focussed on his dick. The camera dropped carefully to the bedstand and Buck scrambled to his feet. Chris stopped laughing as Buck plastered himself against the long sun-warmed body and pressed eager hot kisses along Chris's jaw, neck and ear. Chris arched as Buck's hand reached for his cock, caressing it then moving down to fondle his balls, then further to probe where he was still damp from their earlier activities.


Chris swallowed hard. He turned to swing on Buck and froze stunned at the expression in his oldest friend's eyes. Shocked realization made his knees feel weak. They were not just his memories. They were Buck's too. That simple fact hit him square between the eyes. Chris felt as if only he and Buck existed. The other guests melted away to background blur. The expression on Buck's face twisted something inside of Chris and he swallowed hard. The curious mix of sorrow, loss and memory didn't belong on
Buck's face. It hurt to see it there so poignantly.

Chris couldn't look any more. He swung back to the pictures and his gaze locked on them as other memories came tumbling back.

The water was icy cold and he hit it with a disgruntled yell. On the bank Buck was bent over laughing. Spluttering Chris got to his feet.

"Laugh as much as you want. Its not only my skin you've frozen."

Buck lifted his head, eyes streaming, looked down to Chris's groin and cracked up again at the tiny shrivelled organ. He fell back on the picnic blanket as Chris stalked over there, trying not to laugh. With a shake of his head, Chris sprayed the cold drops all over Buck, setting him off again. Buck snaked out a quick hand to Chris's ankle and Chris tumbled to the ground.

"I guess I'll have to warm you up again," Buck whispered in Chris's ear and Chris shivered at the husky purr, blood rushing to his groin.

Laughing still, Buck placed his hand on Chris's cock. It twitched reluctantly then sprang into life as he continued his ministrations. Chris moaned and spread his legs encouraging his lover's hand movements; reaching out with his own hands to fondle whatever part of Buck's sun warmed body he could, needing that contact. Needing Buck


Needing Buck.

Always needing Buck.



Chris felt the words drop like lead into his stomach. Always needing Buck. Buck was the one who bore the brunt of his bad temper, his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities. Buck was the one who suffered when Chris felt scared or out of his depth. For years he had hit out at Buck as a means of controlling his own insecurities and Buck had let him. Chris wasn't a fool. It was his choice to lash out at Buck but it was still Buck's choice whether or not to take it. Buck took it.

And Buck had taken those photos.


Slowly the real world crept in; soft discussions around him about the various artists’ merits, little, more significant murmurs as he was recognised from the three large pictures. Chris shook himself, feeling off balance. He took a couple of steps away from the photos to allow other guests to view them; to escape the memories.

Buck was still standing there, only now his gaze had moved from the black & whites to Chris's face. Almost as if he couldn't help himself, he reached out a hand towards Chris. Chris almost flinched as the strong hand caught him and turned him back to the photos.

"Tell me what you see, Chris?"

Chris shivered at the low voice. He didn't want to answer but he owed Buck. God above, how he owed Buck!

Only now had it suddenly, sharply hit home how much he did owe Buck. He looked at the pictures and merged them seamlessly with his memories - their memories. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, " Love."

Buck's hand released him. Chris turned his head and watched as Buck shook himself and came back to the here and now. He looked at Chris almost furtively then straightened. Without another word, he turned on his heels and left.

Chris watched him go. Still unsettled. Still thrown totally off balance. He wandered aimlessly around the floor looking at other exhibits and trying not to notice that the "Fallen Angel" was gathering more than its fair share of interest.

The sideways glances as they compared him now with the pictures of the past unnerved Chris enough to drive him downstairs in the hunt for refreshment.

He found a small bar set up on the second floor over looking the street and wished for something stronger than champagne. He drained the glass and went back for another. And another. And another. He was on his seventh glass of champagne when:

"Mr Larabee," Pete Scanner appeared at his side. "Have you seen the Fallen Angel Pictures?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Chris shrugged.

"Who was the photographer? Who was B T Yardley?"

Chris wasn’t too sure he wanted to answer that question.

When Chris didn't speak, Pete went on. " Although his photos of you are by far his greatest work, the other pictures are noteworthy in their own right. He must have been in the military at some stage. My partner, Doug came across them in a cabin of his friend, Colonel Joe Lanson. Doug was more interested in the Fallen Angel. Joe said he only had those three but he’d let Doug have them and the other five for this exhibit if the photographer agreed. He refused to tell us how to contact B T Yardley. Doug was thrilled when Joe said it was all right."

"How long have you and Doug been together?" Chris finished his glass and reached for another one. He remembered how Buck had insisted on giving Joe a copy of those photos when – by accident – Joe had seen and admired them. At the time it had seemed such a small thank you for happy memories Joe’s cabin had given them.

"Seven years."

"I was twenty-one when those photos were taken." Chris tilted his head thoughtfully, " Fifteen years ago." He drained the glass quickly and got to his feet. "Come on." He made a decision.

"Where to?" Scanner sounded bemused.

Chris grinned. The champagne made him feel curiously reckless or maybe it was coming face to face with his younger self. Whatever it was, he was going to act on it. " To answer your question." He flickered his gaze around knowing Buck was still here and spotted him in a quiet corner near the Sales Office, seated on a bright red sofa, nursing a glass. He looked up surprised when Chris approached, Scanner in tow.

"Buck, Pete wanted to meet B. T. Yardley," Chris said bluntly.

Buck flinched as if shot. "Chris?"

"I think it's about time I met the photographer too," Chris added softly in an aside that only Buck would hear.

Buck frowned, baffled.

"Excuse me," Pete looked quite fascinated at Buck. " Are you telling me that Mr Wilmington took those photos?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded and reached out a hand pulling Buck to his feet. "Yeah, he took those and many others - which you haven't a cat in hell's chance of seeing."

"Chris?" Buck repeated still looking confused.

"If you'll excuse us," Chris gave Buck a tug away. "We have something to discuss. Nice gallery by the way."

Scanner's eyes twinkled. "Thank you."


Buck felt like a fish out of water. "Chris?" He set his feet and braced himself against his friend's pull. Chris stopped and looked up at him and - holy shit! - that smile. Buck knew that smile. Blood was pooling in his groin before he even completed his thought. His skin tingled and slowly the smile in the green eyes deepened as if Chris knew what that look was doing to him. "Chris?" And he winced at the hesitancy in his own voice, the way it trembled and he choked back the hope that began curling in the pit of his stomach, clambering to be allowed out. "Something to discuss?"

Chris moved closer to him and stared deep in to his eyes. Buck swallowed hard.

"Yeah, Bucklin, business. Some serious business."

Buck opened, closed and opened his mouth again. He wanted to say something but Chris was undressing him with those all knowing green eyes. He didn't know whether to be disappointed when Chris suddenly changed tack.

"But I want to show you something first."

"Sure." Buck followed Chris back up to the third floor and back to the alcove. There was quite a crowd gathered in front of Buck's photos now but Chris just barged through them until they stood at the front, ignoring the muttered comments about his rudeness.

Chris pointed to the third picture. Buck followed his gaze knowing Chris was trying to tell him something but not sure what. Chris sighed, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"Buck -hell no," Chris turned to the nearest viewer. “Excuse me.”

The woman looked startled. "Yes?"

Buck was truly confused now. This was so unlike Chris – how much had the damn man had to drink? And what the hell was going on here? He shifted as the blood continued to pool southwards and his trousers felt tight. Expectation curled around him like a blanket.

Chris was nodding at the third and largest picture. "That picture - what do you see?"

It was a Larabee command and it worked just as well on the woman as it did on his team.

The woman frowned at the barked order but answered. It didn't occur to her not to. " I see a man," she started, recognising the blond man in front of her as the subject. "You – you look younger there. In that picture you’re looking across the room. Looking at something." She paused then finished in a rush. "It looks kinda of like you're looking at the photographer with love."

Chris took a deep breath. He smiled at her breathtakingly and Buck closed his eyes giddily. He hadn't seen that smile in over seven years. In fact, he hadn't believed Chris could still smile like that.

"Thank you," Chris said after a minute. He looked around at his audience of listeners suddenly, uncomfortably, aware of their keen interest.

"When someone makes you look that handsome you gotta love'em." The joking words were out of Buck’s mouth before he realized it. He wasn’t surprised, rescuing Chris Larabee was as instinctive to him as breathing. He just couldn’t help himself.

The laughter broke the tension in the moment. Buck opened his eyes wider as Chris met his gaze and that smile was directed – full force- at him.

Chris drew closer to Buck, nodded his head. "You were right," he murmured leading Buck away from the crowds, down the stairs and out in to the cool night.

"About what?" Buck asked as they reached Chris's Ram. He leaned against the driver's door- no way was Chris driving- and pulled Chris to him, suddenly feeling sure of himself again.

"There is love in those pictures. There is love here and now," Chris answered, rebalancing his weight against Buck. Buck smiled. For once it appeared as if Chris didn't care who saw them; didn't care that two men were leaning against a car, their arms wrapped around each other. He almost missed Chris’s words "Can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you?"

Chris drew back a little, "Yeah, for putting you through hell and back. It wasn't till I saw those photos again that I remembered."

"Remembered what?" Buck murmured," Chris, I know you have a photographic memory."

"Only for the things I chose to remember. For a long time I chose to remember only the sadness of my life. I forgot there was happiness too. Picture three was the day you threw me in the lake, and laughed yourself sick when my dick shrivelled up."

"It did go small," Buck chuckled softly.

"Picture two was our third day there. You had exhausted me and I was dozing."

"Well you were still recovering from…" Buck hesitated not wanting to go there, he could still remember the fear of almost losing Chris too well. “You weren’t up to full strength," he completed lamely.

"No," Chris agreed. "Picture one was our first day there when I was feeling lost because we'd been on the go so much that it was strange not to have to rush anywhere. You distracted me - successfully." Chris fell silent.

Buck pulled him tighter. "I have always loved you, pard," he said softly, taking his chances that maybe, just maybe, he was about to be given a very precious gift. " I will always love you."

"Shit, Buck, how can you? After all I’ve put you through?”

“I love you, Chris.” Buck repeated the words quietly. “Don’t you understand? I- Love- You.” He waited a moment sure he had Chris’s total attention. “And it wasn’t all hardship, Chris. There have been plenty of good times too.” Buck smiled remembering other times: fishing trips, family holidays with Sarah and Adam and now the holidays with their new family – bunch of misfits that they all were. He huffed out a chuckle. “And plenty more to come, “ he added watching Chris’s eyes darken with the same memories.

“I still don’t understand how you can love a hard headed bastard like me,” Chris said with a half smile, “But I’m glad that you do. When my world fell apart both times…,” Chris trailed off. There was a comfortable silence. Buck waited knowing Chris hasn’t quite finished his thought yet.

Then, “Can you forgive me?”

“Aw, Chris.” His heart aching with love, Buck pressed Chris’s head against to his shoulder, wanting to enfold Chris in a blanket of love. He nearly choked up when Chris sought to deepen their embrace, burying his head in Buck's shoulder and staying still in Buck’s arms, seeming to soak up the love Buck was offering so freely. Buck tightened his hold. It was almost painful – this acceptance. Years ago Buck had resigned himself to the fact that this was something he’d never have again; holding Chris like this; being allowed to show his love. But now, Chris felt so right in his arms, like he belonged there, which he did. Buck savoured the feeling.

“Love you. Forgive me.” The words were so softly said that Buck almost missed them.

"There ain’t nothin’ to forgive." Buck looked around. "Although this isn't the best place for me to show you that."

Chris drew back laughing unsteadily. “So why did you let the gallery exhibit those pictures?”

Buck knew he looked every bit as sheepish as he felt. “ I didn’t, well not exactly. When Joe asked about the B.T. Yardley shots –I kinda- well -I forgot he had the three Fallen Angel ones. I just thought of the Navy pictures.”

“You forgot?” Chris’s eyebrows shot up.

Buck raised his hands defensively then relaxed as he saw the amusement in Chris’s expression. Putting his arms down, he snaked them quickly around Chris’s waist, reeling him in until he could feel Chris’s warmth from shoulder to knees. Bending his head, he stared into those deep green eyes and grinned back. “Yeah, Pard, I forgot.”

Chris was close enough to kiss and Buck was about to take advantage of that when Chris stiffened slightly in his arms, his green gaze fixed over Buck’s shoulder.

Buck shifted around and saw the other members of team seven just emerging from the Gallery and about to head in their direction. Reluctantly, he let Chris go, Chris shifted to his left and they waited side by side for the others to join them.

Ezra tipped an imaginary hat. " One hour and fifty-seven minutes gentlemen."

"That's my time," JD beamed. He held out his hand to Ezra and the gambler counted the winnings carefully. "And I've gotta go collect Casey. We're going to Lake Windslow for the weekend."

"Thought you weren't leaving till tomorrow?" Buck asked winking at the young man.

JD blushed. "Yeah, well, Casey finished her assignment early and doesn't have to attend her nine o'clock tutorial so we thought that now that we could, we'd head out with the others - don't get any ideas, Buck."

"Ideas? Me?" Buck said, mock-hurt.

"Yeah, ideas you." JD pointed a finger at the taller man’s chest. "I haven't even got through 1-10 of your instructions on how to keep a woman happy." He ignored the sudden burst of laughter. "See you guys Sunday." JD gave them a quick wave and headed off to his car.

"So any instructions on how to keep a man happy?" Ezra drawled with a pointed look at Vin as soon as JD was out of earshot.

Vin ducked his head, his hand already taking out his hair tie. “You don’t need any help with that.”

"And what makes you think I can help?" Buck inquired keeping his voice as innocence as possible.

"I think we all saw Alcove D, Mr Yardley," Nathan pointed out knowingly. "And the only man that we can think of that Chris would ever let photograph him would be you."

“Talked him into it more-like,” Vin put in with a snort.

Chris looked away, with a muffled choking sound. Obligingly Josiah patted his back. Chris coughed. "I'm okay."

Buck restrained his smile.

"We wouldn't want you choking to death just yet," Vin said slyly. "At least not before we finished teasing you about those shots."

"They were obviously taken by a man," Ezra added, with a dimpled smile which widened as the back of Chris's neck went red.

"Ergo, Buck," Josiah finished grinning widely.

Nathan exchanged a look with the older man. "On that happy note I think Josiah and I will take our leave. See you Sunday. Usual time?"

Chris nodded.

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "So any advice, Mr Wilmington?"

Buck straightened up. He looked down with lazy smiling eyes at Ezra then back to Vin. "From experience, I'm sure you don't need any advice whatsoever, Ez."

Vin's head shot up and Ezra’s opened mouth expression was enough to both reassure and start him laughing.

"Mr Wilmington, we have never… I mean..."

Buck waggled his eyebrows suggestively, leaned over Vin and said in an exaggerated whisper, "He loves it when you play with his balls."

Vin choked.

"How did you-," Ezra protested then stopped as he realized the trap he'd so easily fallen into. Buck’s grin grew - catching Ezra out was as satisfying as it was rare.

Gracious in both defeat and victory, the undercover agent grinned. 'Touché, Mr Wilmington, touché."

"I think I'd better take you out of here before Bucklin corrupts you any more," Vin said, he shared an amused glanced with Chris and with a nod of his head led Ezra towards the Jag. “See ya Sunday, cowboy.”

Buck watched them drive off. He turned his attention back to Chris.

"My place?" Chris asked slowly.

"Via mine," Buck agreed, unable to stop smiling. "Need a change of clothes and some supplies."

Chris blushed slightly. "Fine."

“And, Chris,” Buck held his hand out for the keys, “I’m driving.”


The End