Always and Forever by Winnie

TITLE-------Always and Forever
RATING----PG13
AUTHOR-------Winnie
DISCLAIMER----Not mine…never will be…sniff, sniff
COMMENTS------This is for Stormm, happy birthday, my friend. She wanted a little psychological pain for the blond Adonis. I hope you enjoy this one. Thanks to Pamela for the wonderful pic, and to Marti for going through this one for me, and for pointing out the typos.

ALWAYS AND FOREVER!!!!!!!!!

‘What the hell?’ the captive thought and struggled to free himself from the ropes that bound his arms at his side. No, not at his side, he realized, but to the arms of a chair or something similar. He forced his eyes open, but there was only darkness, complete and absolute, yet he felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He tried moving his legs, but found they too, were immobilized.

Frustration soon gave way to anger and he tried to move his upper body, but a wide strap seemed to be wrapped around his chest and another around his forehead, effectively limiting his field of vision. A sound to his left caught his attention, grating on his nerves and fueling his anger.

“It won’t work you know?”

The voice was distorted and unfamiliar, but there was something about the laughter, something maniacal and unstable. He knew he’d heard it before, but his mind could not quite grasp when or where. He found it hard to think, impossible to focus on anything, but the laughter. The grating, insensible sound that seemed to come from everywhere at once, getting louder until it seemed to come from inside his skull. He wanted to drown out the horrible noise, but his arms remained where they were until Chris Larabee could do nothing but scream at his unknown assailant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~`
“Has anyone heard from Chris since he got home?” Vin Tanner asked upon entering the Firm’s main office.

“Not yet…he didn’t get in until late last night so he’s probably still sleeping,” Wilmington answered.

“Considering how boring those high level meetings can be, I would say Chris would have taken advantage and caught more than one siesta over the last week,” Standish offered.

“Did you try calling him?” Sanchez asked.

“I called from my place and stopped at his ranch, but he didn’t answer,” the Texan explained.

“That’s strange,” Jackson said and looked at the calendar on his desk. “He was supposed to get back last night…maybe he’s on his way in…try his cell phone.”

“I did,” Tanner told them. “His service says he’s either turned it off or he’s out of the area.”

“Okay, something’s definitely wrong here,” Wilmington said and turned to the youngest member of the team. “JD, can you see if his tracer’s working?”

“Already working on it,” Dunne answered, his fingers flying over the keys even as the others moved to watch the computer screen. “Got it!”

“Where is it?” Sanchez asked, watching the Bostonian triangulate the area where the signal originated.

“It’s just south of Chris’ ranch on Old Pear Tree Road,” Dunne answered.

“Vin, looks like me and you are going for a ride,” Wilmington stated. “We’ll call when we find him!”

“Nate, maybe ya should come with us,” Tanner suggested, gut instincts kicking in with a force that threatened to floor him. Since his first meeting with Chris Larabee there’d been an almost quicksilver resonance between them that had, on more than one occasion, saved their lives. That connection was working overtime since he woke up at dawn and felt the anger and frustration in a heightened awareness that told him his ‘brother’ was in trouble.

“All right,” Jackson agreed and reached for his jacket and the case with medical supplies he carried whenever they thought a member of their ‘family’ might be in need of medical attention. Within minutes of Tanner’s arrival the team was already working on finding their missing leader.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Chris knew he’d passed out, but did not know for how long or why his head ached so much. The screeching laughter was gone, but he knew he wasn’t alone in spite of the continued darkness. He struggled with the ropes, but they held him fast and he finally gave up and tried to figure out where he was and how he got here.

The last thing Chris remembered was driving along Old Pear Tree Road, bone weary and dog tired, but determined to get home and crawl into his own bed for a week. The conferences had been boring, but for the most part he’d found enough to keep him interested. He’d paid special attention to the new sniper rifles and had taken several brochures to show the team’s sharpshooter. There were also new innovations in bomb disposal that he knew would be of special interest to Buck Wilmington and he’d taken a few pamphlets from several reputed demolitions experts.

“It won’t work you know.”

“Who the hell are you?” Larabee snarled, but was met with the same insane laughter.

“I’m an old friend…well, I guess you wouldn’t call me a friend exactly, but I am an acquaintance and we’re here because you’re going to take a look at your life…”

“What kind of game are you playing?” the captive snarled, groaning when a bright spotlight shone in his eyes, blinding him and setting off fireworks inside his skull.

“We’re not playing a game…or should I say I’m not, but you are. This is your life, Chris Larabee…your past life and it will be used to determine whether you deserve to live or die.”

“And you’re supposed to be the judge?” Larabee spat.

“Judge, jury, and executioner,” the distorted voice chuckled.

The light dimmed slightly, but not enough to allow Chris to open his eyes completely. The beam seemed to close in around him until only his body was bathed in the intense white light.

“Are you ready for the first snippet?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“Not at all…this is something you will face and it will prove to the world just what a monster you are. Now this first piece was very hard to find, but I’m sure you’ll recognize the players…although there are no actors in any of these people and if it looks real and mirrors your life that’s probably because it is your life, Chris Larabee.”

The captive struggled against his bonds until the bright light dimmed and the sound of an old movie projector filled the small room. The voices were gritty, evidence of just how old the eight millimeter was, but Chris knew who they were. He heard his brother, a voice he hadn’t heard since his teen years and swallowed the painful lump that formed in his throat. He opened his eyes and watched while a much younger version of himself opened gifts and laughed with the rest of his family. It was indeed the Christmas before Carl Larabee died and Chris felt the first pangs of guilt gnaw at his gut.

“I see you remember this little piece. Wasn’t it taken the Christmas before your brother died? Hmm, yes, I believe I’m correct…the news reports talk about finding Carl Larabee’s body down on the docks. Didn’t he overdose on heroin because of you…”

“Carl chose his life…his own mistakes…”

“Did he really? Your brother loved you and took you everywhere with him when you were younger, but when he needed to find himself…to actually grow up…he was forced to take care of you when he should have been out dating girls his own age? Isn’t it true that your daddy forced him to take you wherever he went? That alone would be enough to drive any man to drugs. Carl’s death was all your fault, Chris…he’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you!”

“Go to hell!”

“What’s wrong, Chris…can’t face the truth? Your brother would still be alive if you had never been born!”

“No…my brother chose to take those drugs…no one forced them on him!”

“Did he? Or was he forced into drugs because he was sick and tired of having his baby brother tagging along after him? How do you think he felt when his friends saw him with you? Do you think they let him go where they went with someone like you around? No, Chris, your brother died because he couldn’t live his own life because of you!”

“No,” Larabee ground out, groaning when the bright light shone in his eyes once more.

“Think about it while I bring up the next chapter in your life, Chris Larabee, because I have plenty of evidence to prove you kill everyone you profess to love.”

Chris heard the taunting voice and the maniacal laughter that followed and closed his eyes. He knew whoever his captor was, the man had done his homework and there was little doubt that whatever screws he chose to turn would only tighten the knot of guilt he felt growing inside. His body went limp and he had briefly wondered if his unknown kidnapper had given him something to make him so damn sleepy before he gave into the reawakened nightmares from his childhood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck stared at the laptop, reading the signal sent from the tracker in Larabee’s vehicle. So far they were on the right track and he knew they were closing in on their target. His worries began to increase the closer they got to their destination and he stared sideways at the man behind the wheel. He knew of the connection between Larabee and Tanner and had both cursed it and embraced it when faced with the strange relationship.

“Vin, can you feel him?” Wilmington asked, surprised when the younger man nodded slightly.

“He’s in trouble, Buck,” Tanner answered simply without taking his eyes off the road.

“Damn, Vin, I hate it when you say that,” the rogue spat. “Turn here.”

Jackson frowned when he noticed the overgrown area that Buck pointed out. In the early morning sunshine he could make out broken saplings and flattened down grass, sure signs that a vehicle had driven through there. There was no doubt in his mind that Tanner’s jeep could get through the rough terrain, but he held tight to the seat in front of him as they went over several deep trenches and finally stopped behind what he guessed was Chris Larabee’s black Ford Crew Cab.

“Jesus, that’s a mess,” Wilmington whispered and exited the jeep. He hurried to the driver’s door and looked inside the cab. They’d all been around possible crime scenes enough to know not to touch anything, but the rogue could not help touching a red substance on the partially open window.

“What is it, Buck?” Jackson asked from behind the moustached agent.

“This is blood, Nate…”

“There’s more over here,” Tanner said from the back of the truck.

“I think it’s time we got Miller involved,” Jackson explained.

“Call him, Nathan,” Wilmington ordered and began to search the area in hopes of finding the missing team leader.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Again Chris had no memory of losing consciousness, but the throbbing ache in his skull told him whoever was holding him was also drugging him. He blinked several times and tried to focus on the scene playing out on the television that had been placed directly in front of him. It was him, slightly older than the last time, and without his family. A soft chuckle reached his ears and Chris could not help the smile that formed on his face.

The man staring at him was another memory from the past, one that had also ended in tragedy. He felt the pain of the distant memory as if it was yesterday and a soft moan escaped his dry lips before the name was torn from his throat.

“Joey…”

“Ah, I see you recognize this one as well, Chris,” the hated voice cooed softly from behind him. “Joseph Brian Washington the third wasn’t it? Where is he?”

Chris refused to answer as raw pain ripped through his gut at the thought of his long dead friend. Joey had given his own life in order to save Chris and had been buried with honors.

“Oh please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your best friend in the SEALS…oh wait, perhaps it’s just been so long your memory needs some jogging.” The voice came from his right this time, but Chris still could not turn his head. “He’s dead too…just like your brother…dead because of something you did or didn’t do in this case. Washington died because you made a stupid mistake and got yourself shot up. He helped carry you to that chopper and got you onboard and what did you do as a thank you?”

Chris drowned out the hated voice and closed his eyes, but snapped them open again when his captor grabbed hold of his chin. The bright light distorted everything, but he glared daggers at his tormentor only to have his chin released and that cackling laughter drowning out everything except his own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Joey…God I’m sorry…”

“Sleep, Chris Larabee, because this is only the beginning of your life…”

Chris felt his eyes closing in spite of his best efforts to stay awake. He could still make out the freeze frame picture of Joey and himself in their SEALS uniform and felt the ache in his heart intensify before he gave into the nightmares that came with sleep.

Morgan Coltrane smiled and reached out to shut off the VCR before switching the light to full power and exiting the room. This was so much better than he’d ever thought possible and his craving for revenge continued to eat him alive. Chris Larabee had cost him over twenty years of his life and now, weeks after finally being released, he was able to set in motion a plan that would see Larabee wallow in the guilt of the losses he’d suffered throughout his life. There was nothing like guilt to tear at a man’s insides and make him wish he’d never been born. There were several more tapes to show his enemy before he served up the coup-de-grace that would send the proud man into his own personal hell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Nathan watched the road for any sign of Miller’s men or his own team mates, but so far there’d been only one car on this stretch of Old Pear Tree. He’d recognized another of the residences who had a small home south of Larabee’s ranch and made a note to question him in case he’d seen anything. Vin and Buck were carefully going over the area where Larabee’s truck was now parked, but something told them there wasn’t much to find.

Jackson slowly walked along the edge of the road, examining the tracks that he guessed were made by Larabee’s truck. The trail led back over a hundred feet and he frowned when he found a second set of tire tracks directly behind where Larabee’s started. He wasn’t an expert, but something told him these tracks were made by whoever was involved in Larabee’s disappearance.

The sound of an approaching car made him turn south and he recognized The Agency’s vehicle and knew the rest of the team had arrived. He signaled for Josiah to park on the opposite side of the road and waited for the trio to join him as the sound of sirens reached their ears.

“Did you find Chris?” Dunne asked, running across the road.

“No, but his truck is back there. Miller’s sending a CSI team out to go over the area.”

“I take it you believe something untoward has happened to our enigmatic leader?” Standish inquired.

“It looks that way. There’s blood on the window and more at the back of the truck,” Jackson explained.

“Maybe Chris was over-tired and drove his truck off the road?” Dunne suggested.

“I thought of that, JD, but the truck is too far back for that. If Chris lost control there’s no way in hell he’d have driven in a straight line, besides, I’m beginning to believe there’s another vehicle involved…look at the tracks here,” Jackson ordered and looked up to see two cars pull up behind the club van. He recognized two of them as CSI agents, but was not quite ready to relinquish control of the crime scene.

“Those are Chris’ tracks, but what makes you think the others are involved in his disappearance?” Sanchez asked.

“The close proximity to Chris’ for one thing,” the medic told them. If I’m not mistaken Chris pulled off the road here, but after that I have no idea what happened to him.”

“Mr. Jackson, we’re going to have to ask that you gentlemen move back until we clear the scene,” the first CSI agent ordered and the agents moved back to allow the team to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
“Beautiful Dreamer, Wake onto me, Starlight and dewdrops, Are awaiting thee…”

The words filtered through the heaviness that seemed to make it hard to think. Chris blinked his eyes several times until the bright light dulled and the face on the television screen solidified and his heart lurched in his throat. The woman was someone from his past, Buck’s past, and was tied in with Ella Gaines, although Hildegard Petrie was nothing like her uncle’s widow.

“Sounds of the rude world, Heard in the day, Led by the moonlight, Have all passed away…”

The words were soft and lilting and he could feel the guilt of her death weighing him down. Hilda had died because she’d tried to help him when Ella Gaines came back into his life. Chalk up another death because of his ‘so-called love’ for Ella.

“Such a beautiful songbird…dead because you denied another the love she deserved.”

“No…no…Ella killed her…not me…I didn’t…”

“Didn’t you? Wouldn’t she be alive today if she hadn’t stepped in front of a bullet meant for you? So many lives lost because of you, Chris Larabee…so many innocents…”

“Beautiful dreamer, Queen of my song, List' while I woo thee, With soft melody…”

Chris felt moisture on his cheeks and realized it was tears that had escaped his tightly clenched lids. Whoever his captor was had done his homework and seemed to have chosen people whose deaths had shook him to the core. Again and again he tried to drown out the man’s taunting words and Hilda’s melodious voice, but both followed him into the nightmares that plagued his subconscious and a name formed on his lips.

‘Morgan Coltrane…’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Larabee’s team sat in the conference room going over the information supplied by Robert Miller and the CSI team. They’d managed to get casts of both sets of tire tracks and verified that the first one belonged to Larabee’s truck. They’d also been able to get several casts of footprints surrounding the truck and were working on correlating those with everything they had on file. There was also a single print that had been lifted from the driver’s door, just below the bloodstains on the window and the police report on that was just coming through the fax machine.

“We got a name,” Dunne told them and came back to the table with the spreadsheet.

“Morgan Coltrane,” Jackson read aloud. “I thought that bastard was in prison.”

“He was up until a month ago. It says here he was released on good behavior and time served. He was supposed to report to his parole officer last week, but…”

“Let me guess,” Wilmington spat. “He didn’t show.”

“Give the man a prize. It says here his parole officer filed a report, but I guess it somehow got lost,” Dunne read from the file.

“If Coltrane has Chris…” Tanner said, remembering the reason behind the man’s arrest and subsequent conviction for kidnapping and torture. The man was notorious for using mind games to taunt his victims and several were now in hospitals trying to cope with the burden of guilt they’d been exposed to.

“JD,” Sanchez reached for the file. “Is there anything in here that might tell us where he’s been holed up since being released?”

“Not much. Coltrane held his kidnap victims in recently abandoned homes. He must have watched houses in several neighborhoods until someone went out of town on business,” the Bostonian answered.

“We should also factor in Coltrane’s preference for well-maintained landscapes and upscale homes in the country,” Standish told them.

“Consid’rin’ the fact that Chris arrived home late last night,” Tanner said, checking the paper in front of him that verified Larabee’s arrival at the airport a little after nine the night before, and the fact that he picked up his truck at 9:46 pm. “Coltrane couldn’t have taken him very far.”

“Let’s not put all our eggs in one basket, Vin,” Sanchez spoke up. “We need to check all leads before walking a single road. Chris’ life may depend on it.”

“Josiah’s right, Vin…”

Tanner’s hand went to his head and he rubbed at the sharp pain that stabbed at his skull, before looking at the others through hooded eyes. “It’s Coltrane…I can feel it…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morgan Coltrane watched his victim with mixed feelings and was overwhelmed with the need for revenge. Chris Larabee would pay dearly for ruining his life, but through his memories instead of through mere physical torture. His was an art worthy of proper manipulation and attention, and who better to practice on than the man who’d cost him so much. He pressed the button on the VCR and stood back to watch the effects this would have on his captive. This was a prelude to the ultimate in mental torture, something he was quite adept at and he smiled as several pictures began to fade in and out on the screen.

“This is your life, Chris Larabee, open your eyes and bear witness to those whose lives were lost simply because they knew you.”

Chris heard the words and forced his heavy lids open, snapping them shut when the bright light stabbed at his eyes. He winced, but there was no escaping the faces and voices on the television. He swallowed several times and tried to turn his head, but Morgan Coltrane stayed just out of his field of vision.

“You know, Chris, I do believe this is probably what hell is…living with the wrongs we did to the people we knew.”

“I guess you’ll find out, Coltrane!” Larabee snarled and wasn’t surprised when the man grew quiet. “Did you really think disguising your voice and staying in the shadows like the cowardly bastard that you are, would hide your identity from me? Always knew you were an asshole, Coltrane!”

“You bastard!” Coltrane said and turned up the volume on the television until the sound became unbearable. “Deal with your memories, Chris, because the worst is yet to come!”

Chris groaned as the voices, distorted by the high-pitched screeching volume grated on his nerves and senses. People who knew him, faces of those who’d come to him for help, faces of those he cared about, faces of people he’d known only briefly flashed across the TV monitor. They were dead now, all of them, simply because they’d had the misfortune of knowing Chris Larabee. This was not only his life, but also their deaths and the torment of their families’ loss would be forever ingrained on his mind.

“God, I’m sorry,” Chris moaned, unaware that he was being watched and that his words were a soothing balm on Morgan Coltrane’s demented mind.

Coltrane knew the time was at hand and he switched off one VCR and turned on the second deck. There was only an instant between the time the first one ended and the second began, but the tormented cry that came from his victim worked wonders on Morgan Coltrane’s ego. This was the ultimate in his career, and would no doubt end in Chris Larabee’s complete breakdown.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“NO!” the cry was ripped from the Texan when he seemed to be jolted from the chair and landed on his knees with both hands over his ears. He rocked back and forth on his heels as agonizing despair washed over his senses and he felt bitter bile rising in waves up his throat. He could feel hands on his shoulders, but could not find the strength to answer the worried voices that called out to him. All he knew was that Chris Larabee was in pain, far worse pain than anything he’d ever suffered physically.

“Get him some water!” Jackson ordered and gently massaged the trembling shoulders.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dunne asked worriedly.

“I don’t know, but if I was a betting man I’d say it has something to do with Chris,” the medic told him.

“I’d lay odds that you were right in that assumption, Nathan,” Standish said and handed over the glass of water.

“Here, Vin, drink this!” Jackson ordered and was glad when Tanner took the glass in his own hands and drank greedily.

“What happened, Vin?” Wilmington asked the pale Texan when the younger man was able to stand sit at the conference table once more.

“It’s Chris…he’s in so much pain,” Tanner explained and was relieved when JD handed him a second glass of water. “Whatever Coltrane is doing to him is bad, Buck…it’s tearing him apart inside. I feel it…God, so much pain.”

“Can you let him know we’re coming,” Dunne asked.

“It don’t work that way, JD. It ain’t like a phone…it’s just there…in my head,” the sharpshooter explained.

“What exactly is Coltrane doing to him?” Sanchez asked, hoping the Texan could give them a glimmer of what to expect.

“He’s hurtin’ him, Josiah…I just don’t know how. It’s not like physical pain…it’s here,” Tanner said and pointed to his head. “It’s hurtin’ him…hurtin’ him somethin’ fierce.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
The pictures flowed across the screen, the sound louder than comfortable, but the voices were those he knew and loved beyond life itself. Tears flowed freely from moisture laden, red-rimmed eyes, while the shoulders and upper body shook with the force of Chris Larabee’s sorrow. How many times had he blamed himself for the deaths of the innocent? How many times had he stood by while those he cared about were laid to rest? How many times had he prayed to God that he be allowed to join his loved ones in death?

Sarah’s voice reached his ears, whispering softly about her love for him, while Adam’s childish laughter wrenched another sob from the captive. They were so much a part of him, both in life and in death and yet they were no longer there. They’d been stolen from him, ripped from his life, torn from his mind even as their bodies succumbed to the violence of their deaths.

While the pictures on the screen changed to soft music, Chris relived their deaths over and over, the pain knifing through his heart and soul as if Coltrane had used the fine edge of the blade. In truth he had, for nothing could burn the guilt through his mind more than the death of his beloved wife, son, and their unborn child. The memory had scorched him so deeply that his lungs ached for air, but it seemed as if the fire on the screen had eaten up every bit of oxygen in the small room.

“See what you do to those you profess to love, Chris? Can you hear their screams?”

Chris knew it wasn’t real, the coroner had told him Sarah and Adam had died instantly when the house exploded. They hadn’t suffered, at least that’s what he was told, but the screams coming from the television were real to the captive and he felt the last of his strength escaping with every cry he heard.

“You were supposed to love and protect them and what did it get them? Dead…burned to death in a fire…if you listen real close you can still hear them I bet. Were you there, Chris? Did you witness the fireball? Did you stand by and watch the walls fall on top of them?”

“No…”

“Did you know she was pregnant? Is that why you killed her?”

“No…I loved….love her…love Adam,” Chris whispered, his throat dry, his heat aching, his soul mourning the loss all over again.

“It’s your kind of love that cost them their lives. They were better off without you. Isn’t that right?”

“No. Sarah and Adam…they know how much I love them…”

“Oh, but didn’t you also love Ella Gaines? Isn’t she a major part of your life, Chris?”

“I’ll kill that bitch…” Larabee ground out, his eyes glaring green daggers in spite of the heartbreaking pain stabbing through him.

“Oh, but that’s not how you always felt is it, Chris? You once told Ella you loved her and look what those words you uttered on a whim got you? Or should I say got her? Ella Gaines is as much a victim as everyone else you’ve touched with your interference. That poor woman did what she did because of her love for you…again someone is hurt because they have feelings for you. How many more victims are out there? How many people’s lives have been ruined because of your selfish need to hurt those around you?”

Chris closed his eyes and tried to drown out the hated voice, but Coltrane continued taunting him. Reminding him over and over of the people he’d loved throughout his life, but it always came back to Sarah and Adam Larabee. He hadn’t been able to protect them and they were buried in the cold ground while he walked an often lonely road with no end in sight. He felt something sharp in his hand and turned a murderous glance on Coltrane.

“What the hell was that?”

“A little hallucinogenic, Chris, something to help you go for the ride of your life,” Coltrane answered and moved aside, smiling when Larabee’s attention returned to the television screen and the special scenes he’d created through manipulation and editing. The next few hours would be filled with mini-movies of Chris Larabee’s life, culminating in a final scene that would touch off the powder keg of guilt he already harbored. Coltrane left the room, letting the warmth of Larabee’s anguish wash over him, and chuckling softly at the irony of using Larabee’s own home for his revenge.

Chris felt the intense heat rising through his body and for a moment he thought the flames on the screen had suddenly engulfed the room he was in. He struggled against the bonds, wondering why he could not move, his screams joining those of his family as they echoed around the room and tore at the battered remains of his psyche. Chris Larabee was dying, but not from mortal physical wounds; his heart ached with loss, his mind giving in to a guilt that had gnawed at him for nearly five years. A feral scream escaped his throat and he cried out, hoping and praying that this time he would be with his family for good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Don’t you fuckin’ quit on me, Larabee!” Tanner screamed and came to his feet.

“Easy, Vin,” Sanchez said and tried to latch onto the younger man’s arms.

“No, damn it, Josiah, it ain’t easy. He’s fuckin’ dyin’ and I can’t help him!” the Texan snarled.

“We’ll find him, Vin,” Jackson said, frowning when he saw the look on the ex-preacher’s face. “Josiah, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure, but if I remember Coltrane’s MO correctly he liked to taunt the police by keeping his victims close to where he captured them. What if…”

“Jesus, Josiah, you don’t think he’s at Chris’ place?” Wilmington asked and saw icy blue fire ignite in Tanner’s eyes.

“That sounds like something Coltrane would do,” Standish agreed and rifled through several pages he’d printed off the computer once they started concentrating on Morgan Coltrane. “Yes, Mandrel and Somersby were both held within a mile of their homes…Constance Holden was found in her own residence by none other than our esteemed leader.”

“Chris saved Holden and testified against Coltrane,” Wilmington finished. “We need to get out to his place…”

“Before it’s too late,” Tanner grabbed his keys from the desk and raced toward the door.

“Vin, wait, you go in there all piss and vinegar and it’s liable to get Chris killed. We need to come up with a plan,” Dunne told them and knew the others agreed when the Texan stopped in his tracks.

“By the time we come up with a plan Chris could be dead,” Tanner said.

“Then we plan while we’re on the move,” Sanchez offered and held up the keys to the club van. “Let’s go take back what belongs to us!”

“Fuckin’ A!” the Texan snapped and the six men headed toward the bank of elevators.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris could no longer make sense of what hurt or why. Everything around him was filled with memories, visions that clouded his mind and would not allow him to rest. A soft whimper escaped his throat when the horrific screams began anew and he watched a house explode. Not just any house, his house taking with it the promise of a life he once coveted, but had long since died, leaving a hole in his heart that had never healed.

Chris twisted his body, crying out when Sarah’s voice pleaded with him to help her. Deep down he knew it was not real. That Sarah and Adam were dead, was real enough, but they had not suffered, had not lived long enough to feel the flames that now burned him to the core. He stared at the television, watching while tendrils of smoke and flame leapt out at him as he breathing deeply of the scorching air.

Morgan Coltrane knew there was nothing else he could do to Chris Larabee’s already damned soul. In the last hour he’d heard the raging torment and relished the screams that spilled from his captive’s mouth. Now those wails had died to something even better…his victim no longer screamed, he whimpered and some how that was even better. The mournful sound was almost pitiful enough for him to release the man, almost, but not quite enough. Larabee needed to burn in hell for what his interference had cost him, and this was proof positive that revenge was sweet and not always a dish best served cold. He’d placed several incendiary devices and would set them off after he escaped the house…Larabee’s own house.

It had been an easy matter to find the alarm system, bypass it and then set this all up in the big walk-in closet off the kitchen. While Larabee was away he’d quickly emptied the storage area and placed a chair at the center. Then he’d moved a portable TV and monitoring equipment inside before hooking everything up and re-mastering some of Larabee’s own tapes. It was poetic justice that he’d been able to use his victim’s own private home movie library to make the tape that was playing over and over in the VCR.

Coltrane moved into the room and stood staring down at the trembling man and quickly pulled a lighter from the pocket of his coat. He flicked it on and held it in front of the sea green eyes, smiling when the captive tried to move back, but remained fixed to the chair.

“Fire is such a horrible way to die, Chris. I’m sure they suffered from the intense heat,” Coltrane said and touched the flame to Larabee’s arm, smiling when the blond cried out. “Hurts doesn’t it? Imagine how they must have felt…I bet she cursed you to hell and back for pretending you loved her and that precious little boy.”

“No…Sarah knows…Sarah knows…I love h…her,” Larabee whispered, but his eyes remained locked on the small flame directly in front of his eyes.

“It’s time, Chris, time you paid for interfering in my life,” Coltrane said and pressed the buttons that would start the delayed timers and would end in this room being totally engulfed in flames.

“Sarah…Sarah,” the blond cried and didn’t hear Coltrane leave the room. His eyes remained transfixed on the television and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her beautiful face, but there was no give in the bonds that anchored him to the chair. “Sarah, please, Love…help me…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vin held tight to the seat in front of him while wave after wave of agonizing pain washed over him. He knew the others were making plans, but the devastating pain that twisted at his gut made it impossible for him to offer anything except a token nod or shake of his head. Since leaving the office he’d become painfully aware of everything Larabee was going through and the incredible depth of despair was enough to drown him.

“Vin,” Wilmington placed a hand on the younger man’s arm and waited for Tanner to look at him. There was no doubt in his mind that whatever was happening to their missing man was having a devastating effect on the Texan. Tanner’s eyes were clouded with moisture, his hands clenched into tight fists, and his body shook as if the air was frigid.

“He’s still alive, Buck, but that bastard…he’s burning him,” Tanner whispered and doubled over as he tried to breathe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris heard the crackle of flames, but could not pull his eyes from the television where Adam Larabee laughed and chased after a small puppy. So engrossed was he in the lives of his loved ones, he did not smell the smoke, nor did he realize the air was thick with acrid smoke.

“Adam…Adam,” the captive cried, tears glistening in his eyes, while his chest heaved with the effort to rid his lungs of the smoke the billowed up from smoldering rags. He coughed several times, but was unable to clear the smoke from congested airways. His vision blurred and the images faded in and out while he blinked rapidly.

“Sarah!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hurry, Josiah!” Tanner snapped when the older man slowed to turn into Larabee’s driveway. He gripped the door handle and pushed it open before the van came to a stop in front of the ranch house. Guilt gnawed at his insides when he thought about Chris Larabee and the very real possibility that he was in the house that Tanner had visited earlier.

“There’s smoke coming from the back!” Dunne shouted and raced toward the back of Larabee’s home. He collided with a large form and instinctively knew it wasn’t his missing boss. He acted without thinking and grabbed the bigger man, striking him in the face before his opponent had time to realize what was happening.

“Go after Vin!” Sanchez ordered and quickly tackled the man JD was fighting. He was slightly bigger than Coltrane and it didn’t take long for them to get the upper hand.

Dunne released his hold on the bigger man once he was sure Sanchez had him. He quickly ran to the van and grabbed the cuffs from the glove box and returned to find Coltrane cursing and angry. It didn’t take long to place the manacles on the prisoner and pull him to his feet.

“Where’s Chris, you bastard?” Dunne snarled.

“The sonofabitch should be dead by now!” Coltrane spat.

“If he is then you won’t live to stand trial,” the Bostonian vowed and struck out at the bigger man.

“Easy, Son,” Sanchez said and deflected the blow. “Let’s go see to the others.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
“Chris.”

The voice…he knew it as sure as he knew his own and he slowly forced his eyes open. A figure, bathed in soft white light that only added to the ethereal beauty she’d personified in life, stood before him. She knelt down and placed her hands on his cheeks and he choked convulsively while trying to speak. “Sa…Sarah…is it re…really you?”

“Yes, Sweet Love, it’s me.”

Her hands touched his cheek and a bolt of joy raced through him and he sobbed against her soft skin. “Am I dead?”

“No, you’re not dead, Chris…this is not your time and not how you’re supposed to die.”

“But I want…I need to be with you, Sarah, it hurts too much without…without you,” Larabee forced the words through a throat coated with smoke and felt her hands on his face as she lifted his face to meet hers.

“I know you do, Sweet Love, but if you come with me now, then the others will not be far behind. Your life and theirs depends on all of you being there to keep you whole and sane. Adam and I will be here when your time truly comes. We love you, Chris Larabee… always and forever…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~`
“Chris, where the hell are ya?” Tanner boomed upon entering the house through the partially open back door.

“Vin, the smoke’s coming from the utility closet!” Wilmington answered and the four men rushed forward. Buck tried the handle and then slammed his shoulder against the door while Ezra grabbed the fire extinguisher.

Nathan moved to help Buck with the door and heard the distinct sound of flames crackling from inside the room. “Is there a key?”

“On the top of the China cabinet!” Wilmington answered and watched the Texan move animatedly toward the China cupboard. Tanner seemed to be moving on automatic and his hands strayed to his throat as if he was having problems breathing. His next words told Buck it wasn’t his own lungs that lacked oxygen.

“Hurry…Buck,” Tanner said and handed the ladies’ man the key. His hands trembled and his body felt as if it had been depraved of air for way too long. He fought to stay on his feet and managed to push past Wilmington when the door opened. The smoke was thick and flames licked at the walls of the closet, but he spotted the solitary figure sitting at the center of the room. He had no idea where the knife came from, but he quickly cut through the ropes and lifted Larabee in a fireman’s carry, frowning at the words that escaped through the ravaged throat.

“…always and forever…”

“I got ya, Chris!” Tanner said and hurried past Jackson who’d found a second extinguisher and tossed it to Wilmington before following him outside.

“Put him on his side, Vin!” Jackson ordered and carefully began examining the blond.

“Nathan?”

“I don’t know, Vin,” Jackson said and prayed help would arrive in time. Larabee was showing signs of smoke inhalation and he watched Sanchez hurry toward him with his med kit.

“Vin, stay here and help Nathan with Chris. JD, you’re with me!” Sanchez ordered.

“Where’s Coltrane?” Tanner asked.

“He’s all tied up,” Dunne quipped and hurried after Sanchez.

“Easy, Chris, just lie still,” Jackson ordered when the blond tried to sit up. A series of tortured coughs escaped the man’s throat.

“Col…trane,” Larabee managed between ragged coughs that left him breathless and weak.

“We got him, Cowboy,” Tanner said and settled the man back against him. Larabee would not lie down, and right now it seemed the next best thing was to have him leaning against something, Tanner’s chest seemed the most likely choice and the blond visibly relaxed.

“Slippery b…bas…tard…”

“Yes, he is, but he’s not gonna get away, Chris,” Jackson said and looked up when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“The fire’s out,” Wilmington called from the doorway of the house.

“Hear that, Chris, the fire’s out,” the medic said and wished help would arrive. Larabee was having trouble breathing and needed oxygen, something he didn’t have on hand right now. He reached for the stethoscope and listened to the blond’s chest, worried about the ragged sounds he heard.

“Ambulance is comin’,” Tanner said, holding his friend close. His relief at finding Larabee alive was short lived while he listened to the tortured fight to draw air into his lungs.

“I don’t hear any…Jesus, Vin, I swear you have…”

“Bionic ears,” Wilmington finished upon joining the group and finally hearing the sound of sirens in the distance. One look at the grey pallor of Larabee’s skin sent a shiver of dread down his spine and he looked up to see the same worry on Jackson’s face, but didn’t say anything for the moment. “Ezra, Josiah, and JD are making sure there are no hot spots. They told me they made sure Coltrane wasn’t getting away.”

Chris listened to the men talking and tried to relax his breathing, but the truth was it seemed to be getting harder and harder to get enough oxygen into his lungs. He felt Tanner’s breath on his neck and knew the Texan was worried, but he didn’t have the energy to even think about soothing the young man’s rattled nerves.

“Help’s here, Chris,” Tanner said, but didn’t relinquish his hold even when the paramedics knelt at their side. He watched the first man place a mask over Larabee’s mouth and nose and adjust the straps before starting the oxygen. It didn’t take long for the paramedics to get an IV started and place the patient on a stretcher and put him into the ambulance.

“Vin, go with him…we’ll wait here for the police,” Wilmington ordered and was glad to see the Texan climb into the back of the emergency vehicle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Vin paced the area between the windows and the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, stopping only when someone entered the room. So far there had been no news on Larabee’s condition, all he knew was that he’d been having problems breathing.

‘What’d ya expect with all that fuckin’ smoke he took in?’ Tanner remembered barely controlling the urge to shout it at the resident, but he’d managed to keep a civil tongue in his head. Midland and Simmons were both off today, and the Texan had no patience for the holier than thou attitude of the man who cared for Chris Larabee.

“Vin, how’s Chris?” Wilmington asked upon entering the waiting room.

“I don’t know, Buck, they haven’t told me a fuckin’ thing!” the sharpshooter snapped.

“Easy, Pard, who’s in there with him?”

“Some new fella…Dr. Blo…something or another…”

“Real dandy type?”

“Yeah, that’s him. When did he start working here?”

“About two weeks ago…when JD got cut by that idiot Shafer…kid even gave him a nickname…Dr. Blowitoutyourass,” Wilmington said in an effort to ease the younger man’s worried mind.

“Fits,” Tanner said and nodded toward the door. “Here he comes now…Doc, how’s Chris?”

“Mr. Tanner, do you have power of attorney?” Daniel Blowers asked.

“Course I do…if you just checked his chart ya’d know that!”

“Easy, Vin, he’s not the enemy here.”

“Thank you…Mr.?”

“Wilmington, Buck Wilmington.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you. How is…”

“Doc, please, what’s going on with Chris?” Tanner asked impatiently.

“As you know Mr. Larabee was brought in with severe smoke inhalation. We’re treating him with inhaled steroids for the inflammation and Albutamol for the coughing. He also has rope lacerations on both wrists and heavy bruises across his chest. I believe those were caused by ropes as well.”

“Probably…bastard had him tied to a chair and set fire to the room,” Wilmington supplied.

“Is he gonna be all right?” Tanner asked.

“He should be. Aside from an abundance of scars, Mr. Larabee is in good physical condition. He does seem rather upset that I want him admitted for observation,” Blowers observed.

“That sounds like Chris,” the ladies’ man said. “Can we see him?”

“Yes, his room should be ready shortly, and then I want you out of here so he can get the rest he needs. He’s in room two at the end of the hall and I’d rather not have to send security to escort you out,” the physician warned the two men.

“Thanks, Doc,” Tanner managed to bite back a scathing reply to the man’s comments.

“Come on, Vin, let’s make sure Chris is okay before the others get here.” Wilmington told the younger man and quickly steered him away from the stern looking physician and out into the main ER.

“That sonofabitch makes Simmons look like a pussy cat…”

“Yeah right…a pussy cat with sharpened claws and razor teeth,” the rogue said and gently pushed open the sliding glass door and entered the room to find Larabee in a semi sitting position, oxygen mask in place, eyes closed, and face too pale for his liking. “Looks like sleeping beauty…”

“One of…th…these d…days I’ll have m…my gun han…dy, Buck,” Larabee stammered and opened his eyes, pulling the mask down over his chin.

“Guess today is my lucky day, Pard. How are you feeling?” Wilmington asked seriously.

“L…like hell,” the blond answered, grumbling when a nurse entered and started another Ventolin mask.

“Mr. Larabee, it’s important that you keep this on!” the nurse warned and put the mask in place.

“We’ll make sure he does,” Wilmington said.

“He should be resting,” the woman told them.

“I’m just about to leave, Sheila,” the rogue assured her and waggled his eyebrows at his friends before holding the door for the nurse. “Perhaps you and I could talk about CPR?”

“Leave it ta Buck ta get the girl even when he ain’t the patient,” Tanner said and turned back to his friend.

“Buck al…ways know wh…what to s…say,” the blond wheezed and let his eyes close.

“Chris, are ya sure yer okay?”

“I’m fine, Vin, or I will be,” Larabee assured him tiredly.

“What did he do ta ya?”

“What do y…you mean? The son…ofa…bitch tied m…me up and t…tried to m…make a human torch o…out of me,” Larabee answered.

“I don’t mean it that way, Chris. Ya’ve been physically hurt b’fore and I felt it, but this was different…what did he do ta ya?”

Chris knew there was no getting away from this man until he came clean. The truth was he felt the need to talk about his ordeal and the things Coltrane had said and done to him. Vin Tanner could read him like an open book, and Chris sighed heavily before speaking.

“He u…used my p…past, Vin,” Larabee stated and breathed the medication deep into his tortured lungs.

“I knew he was doin’ somethin’, Chris,” Tanner said and pointed to his head. “I could feel it…could feel how much he was hurtin’ ya in here.”

“Mr. Larabee, your room is ready,” the nurse said and began readying the patient for the trip upstairs.

“Vin…”

“Yeah, Chris?”

“Stay.”

The single word tore at his heart and the Texan knew Larabee still needed to talk. A simple nod and he saw the relief in Larabee’s eyes and hurried out of the room to let Wilmington know he was going to stick around, security or no security.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sweat beaded on Larabee’s brow and Vin could hear the change in the man’s breathing. He knew what was coming and reached out to place a calming hand on Larabee’s shoulder. Ten hours had passed since they’d rescued Chris from a fiery death, and Vin remained at his side, a constant unmovable fixture that defied anyone who tried to get him to leave.

The Texan knew what Larabee had gone through, and there was no way in hell he’d leave him to his nightmares. Chris had managed to tell him most of the tale during his more lucid moments, but there was still more to tell.

“Easy, Chris, it’s okay,” Tanner tried and was glad when the sea green eyes finally opened and focused on him.

“Vin,” Larabee said and ran trembling fingers through his hair. He looked at his wrists, now covered in gauze and a special salve that would help prevent infection and help with the healing process.

“I’m here, Cowboy, feeling better?” the Texan asked and helped raise the head of Larabee’s bed. He knew the nursing staff would be there soon to start another mask, but for now they were alone.

“Think so, where is everyone?”

“They went home about an hour ago. I told ‘em I’d call if’n ya needed anythin’,” Tanner answered.

“Hate this shit,” Larabee said and knew the sharpshooter understood what he meant.

“Yeah, we all do,” the sharpshooter agreed and leaned back in the chair. Silence reigned between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like with most people. Vin knew Chris still had more to say, but until he was ready there was no point in pushing it.

Chris lay back against the pillow and thought about the events of the last few days. He remembered arriving at the airport, collecting his single piece of luggage, and finally getting his car and driving toward his home. There was a car pulled to the side of the road with the driver’s door open and he’d pulled in front of it, checking the rear view mirror for signs that anyone was around. Nothing moved and he exited the truck and walked to the door, ready for any kind of trouble, when he looked inside. The keys were still in the ignition and he’d stood and looked around, but again there was no movement. Leaning into the car he removed the keys and checked the back seat. After that everything was foggy and he couldn’t quite make sense of what happened until he woke up tied to a chair in a small room. He now understood that the room was the utility closet at his home and that Coltrane had thought it ironic that he would be killed in a fire right under his team’s collective noses.

“He was wrong, Chris.”

“Who?” Larabee asked.

“Coltrane. He thought it’d be poetic justice fer ya ta be burned in yer own house, but he was wrong. If ya’d died there it would have been an injustice ta ever’thin’ we believe in…ever’thin’ we fight for,” Tanner explained.

“He kept telling me this was my life, Vin…kept showing me p…people from the p…past. M…my past,” Larabee said, his voice still strained from the amount of smoke he’d inhaled before being rescued. He closed his eyes and pictured the two people who meant more to him than life itself and shuddered at the way Coltrane had tried to use their memory against him. “He kept showing me videos of the people I knew…the people who died because they knew me…”

“People don’t die because they know you, Chris. People die because bastards like Coltrane think they can play God.”

“Thanks, Vin,” Larabee said, swallowing painfully.

“Nothin’ ta thank me for, Chris…jest sayin’ it like it is.”

“Coltrane had tapes, Vin…tapes of my family…of Dad and Mom and Carl, but he also had tapes of S…Sarah and A…Adam. That was the hardest part, Vin…”

“Seeing them again?” Tanner asked, frowning at the look on Larabee’s face.

“No…God knows I’ve watched the home videos often enough that I can quote them verbatim, but it’s what he did with them that hurts, Vin. He f…fucked with my memories and tried to make me think I was guilty of killing them because I loved them…”

“That ain’t true, Cowboy. Yer love is what makes their memories live on…for you…for Buck…for all of us. I didn’t know them very long, but Sarah and Adam loved ya unconditionally…that was plain ta see no matter how ya slice it. Don’t let Coltrane take that away from you, Chris.”

“I won’t, Vin, I can’t. I d…don’t know if it was the smoke or the drug he gave me, but I heard her…”

“Sarah?”

“Yes, she told me she and Adam loved me…you k…know w…what e…else she s…said?”

“What?” Tanner asked and pressed the button to summon the nurse.

“Always and forever,” Larabee said, smiling in spite of his aggravated throat. “That’s h…how long t…they’ll love m…me. I t…think maybe I’m the l…luckiest son…of…abitch in t…the world.”

“Yeah, Pard, I think you’re right,” Tanner said.

“Mr. Larabee, I have your medication here,” the nurse said upon entering the room. She quickly set up the mask and placed it over his mouth and nose before adjusting the flow and turning to the Texan. “Visiting hours ended an hour ago.”

“I know…just thought I’d make things easier for ya and make sure he stayed put,” the sharpshooter advise.

“Vin, go h…home…I’m not going anywhere…at least not t…tonight,” Larabee said.

“Are ya sure? I don’t mind stickin’ ‘round if’n ya want some comp’ny.”

“I’m just going to s…sleep, Vin…nothing for you t…to d…do.”

“We’ll take care of him, Mr. Tanner,” the nurse said, relieved when the Texan stood up and stretched.

“Chris, ya need anythin’…anythin’ at all,” the Texan left the rest unsaid, but knew Larabee understood what he meant.

“T…thanks, Vin,” Larabee said and clasped his friend’s hand in his own. Normally they’d have locked forearms, but the bandages covering Chris’ wrists made that impossible.

“Sleep well, Cowboy,” Tanner said and left the room.

“Mr. Larabee, if there’s anything you need the button is pinned to your pillow. I’ll be back to check on the mask in a few minutes,” the nurse explained.

Chris nodded and closed his eyes, reliving the last few moments he’d spent in the room with the smoke and flames crackling around him. There was no doubt in his mind that Sarah had been there and he heard her voice once more before he sank into a dreamless sleep.

“Always and Forever…”

THE END!!!!!