Silence is Golden by Winnie

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.