Beware the Ides of March by Winnie

This story was written for SilverWolf's birthday. She a very special friend and I hope this fits the bill. Thanks to Julie and Joyce for their help with the medical things in this. Thanks Deirdre for all the help you've given me. Thanks Antoinette for beta reading this on such short notice.

"This is the soothsayer, beware the Ides of March" he mumbled aloud, knowing no one would hear him. He looked around his tiny room, one he would probably never see it again. He'd lived in the boarding house for nearly twenty seven years, almost as long as he worked at the nearby shopping complex. "Rimrock Mall," he griped. "The bastards will pay."

He looked at the cheap watch and the certificate, the only evidence of the life he spent cleaning the floors, bathrooms and any other odd job they put upon him since he began his career there at sixteen. Now at forty three years of age, his health was declining and the heartless bastards gave him the boot. Oh, he knew the fault didn't lie with Aaron Michaels. The man was ten years his senior. He'd also been given the boot, told he wouldn't be finishing out the year. "New owners," he grumbled as he taped another stick in place. "I'll show them just how far they can push me. I'll make them pay!" His maniacal laughter was the only sound in the small cluttered room. He taped the final stick in place and looked down at the table. Scraps of metal, pieces of wire and the remains of an old clock dotted the scarred piece of furniture and he set about cleaning up the evidence.

The neat freak eyed the immaculate room; old habits died hard. The shelves were covered in books and knick-knacks from his years at the mall. He looked at the tiny frame that held the first dollar he made at Rimrock Mall. His eyes panned the room and stopped at the twin bed, the blankets were pulled tight and he knew he could bounce a coin on it if he had one, but today he was broke. The middle aged man didn't have a penny to his name because he used the last of his savings to buy the illegal explosives now taped to his chest. He wasn't sure if what he'd done would work, but he knew if it failed he could just flick his Bic and light it manually. The depressed soul pulled on the button up Hawaiian shirt and fumbled with it till it covered the explosives.

A sense of sadness filled him as he looked around the only home he'd known in his adult years. Everything he owned fit in this tiny room. He looked around once more, his eyes falling on a picture taken exactly a year ago at the Saint Patrick's Day celebration in the center of the mall. Twelve of them were dressed in green outfits, with matching hats. He smiled as he remembered indulging in the green food and drinks served by the tiny fast food places, including the green milkshakes.

He shook off a sense of melancholy and turned towards the door. Today was March 15th, a day that would live on in the minds of the new owners of Rimrock Mall. He wished there was some other way to do this, but there wasn't. The owners were interviewing a few new tenants for the Fast Food Court area and he would kill them all there. He regretted the innocent lives he would take along with them, but he couldn't let that stop him. A shudder ran through him as he looked at the clock, eight forty-five. In three hours, busy mall would be in need of a few repairs and new owners. Once more maniacal laughter sounded in the tiny room.

"Ah, hell, Chris, ya can't wear black."

"Why not, Vin?" Larabee asked as he moved towards his desk. He smiled as he looked around the office. His men, his friends were dressed in different shades of green and he knew they'd be after him to do the same. They were all going to dinner at Buck's place, a bar Jake Taylor introduced them to. Chris smiled as he thought of the ex-cop and how their friendship took place. The man was assigned as a Sitter when Chris was recovering from being tortured and considered a suicide risk. He sighed as he lifted the cup from his desk, realizing the doctors were right at the time. He remembered Susan James telling him Whelan's drugs had a lot to do with his problems, yet sometimes those memories were too strong in his mind. In the two years since the kidnapping he suffered a few nightmares from that time, but they were few and far between. Jake would be meeting them at the bar later in the day for green beer.

"Saint Patrick's Day is Sunday, Chris, we all agreed to wear green for the party at Buck's Bar tonight," Dunne supplied from the door.

"I don't have anything green," Larabee smiled at the kid.

"Hell, Chris, the only color in your closet is black. There's no reds or greens or blues or..."

"Alright, Buck, you made your point. Besides, I am kinda partial to black," Larabee smiled as the rest of the group came into the office.

"Kinda, Brother, I would say you're more than kinda partial," Sanchez returned the smile as he slid into the chair across from Larabee's desk.

"Well, hell, boys, it's a bit late to find anything green now," Larabee told them, hoping he'd dodged the green bullet about wearing a color he wasn't fond of. His eyes fell on the emerald green shirt Ezra Standish wore and he wondered how the man could look comfortable in the shade. He knew from experience the shirt probably cost the man a hundred dollars or more, but the gambler inherited money and could afford to indulge his fancies.

"No it's not, Chris," Tanner smiled as he looked towards his boss and friend. "Why don't we do a little shopping and since you don't know much about any color other than black the boys and me will just have to help you out."

Chris eyed the lime green T-shirt the sharpshooter wore and shook his head. "I don't think so, Vin, you'll have me looking--"

"As cool as a cucumber," Wilmington interjected. "Come on, Chris, why don't we take an early lunch and head out to Rimrock Mall. There's bound to be some green clothing to match them pretty eyes of yours there."

"I don't think so, Buck," the blond insisted.

"Mr. Larabee, I would gladly assist you in your effort to obtain suitable attire for tonight's festivities," Standish assured the blond.

"Ezra, emerald green is not to my liking," Larabee insisted.

"Then we shall endeavor to find the shade that would suit you," the gambler assured his boss.

"Come on, Chris, lighten up," Jackson said. "Maybe we can get some of those green bowler hats--"

"That'd be cool," Dunne grinned excitedly.

"I don't think so, Kid," the leader tried.

"Ah, hell, Chris, green bowler hats, green milkshakes, green beer, are all part of the tradition," Tanner said. "Come on, Cowboy, it'll be fun."

They could see Larabee's resolve ebbing and knew they'd soon have him convinced to join in the festivities.

Wilmington smiled at the blond and said, "Come on, Chris, I'll buy you a green beer as soon as we've got you outfitted."

Larabee shook his head and stood up. He looked at his watch and realized it was nearly nine thirty. Knowing the likelihood of getting any work done was non-existent and his friends would pester him till he gave in decided to get it over. He figured they could get to the mall as it opened and beat the crowds. "Alright..." he surrendered, with a slight smile.

"Good choice, Brother..." Sanchez interrupted with a grin.

"Hold on, Josiah, let me finish. I said alright, but..."

"But what, Chris?" JD asked innocently.

"But I'm not wearing one of those damn ties with the leprechaun on it," Larabee told them.

"Now would we do that to you, Stud?" Wilmington asked, a twinkle of mischief in his roguish blue eyes.

Larabee shook his head as he stood up from his desk. "I have a feeling I'm gonna live to regret this," he said as he picked up his black denim jacket. "Let's get outta here before I change my mind. Josiah, we might as well take the club van."

"Sounds good, Chris," Sanchez said as the seven men headed for the elevator.

The former worker parked his beat up Dodge in the back of the parking lot and waited for the right moment. He looked at his watch and noted the time was nearly nine fifty five. He settled back to wait for the meeting he knew would be taking place in two hours. He watched as people came and went even at this early hour. He knew business would pick up at approximately noon. Most people took their lunch breaks, seeking a quick meal and some shopping. His eyes were drawn to a brown van that pulled in a few spaces from his. He watched as seven men climbed out, their laughter reaching his ears through the partially open window.

He smiled as an older man swatted a younger one in the back of the head. He wished he could've had friends like these men. He recognized them from other times they visited the mall. He remembered the long haired one who helped him with the garbage at the end of his shift. The blond man walking beside him was another one who'd come to his aid on a couple of occasions. He looked at each one and remembered a time when they'd helped him over the years. "Please finish what you have to do before the time comes," he muttered as he watched the group head into the mall. He fingered the timer attached to the dynamite and shook his head. "I can't stop now." Murky visions of the young man who'd handed him his walking papers swam before his moisture laden eyes. The arrogant young man inherited millions from his grandparents and now he didn't give a damn about the people who worked a lifetime to make the mall a success. Again he looked up to see the men disappearing into the main doors of the mall.

"Well, Mr. Larabee where shall we begin?" Standish asked as they entered the doors beside JC Penny.

"Well, I think we should go to American Eagle," Tanner suggested.

"We're looking for Chris, Vin, not for you," Dunne laughed. He knew how much Tanner enjoyed the store and the casual clothing supplied by the merchants.

"Shit, thanks for the reminder, JD. I know just the place," the sharpshooter said mischievously.

"I just bet you do. No thanks, Vin, I'll do my own shopping. I think JC Penny probably has something tasteful yet comfortable in the way of green clothing," Larabee told the younger man.

"JC Penny!!" The blue-eyed tracker wrinkled his nose. "Ah, hell, Chris, get with the times. That place is for old folks," Tanner quipped, high-fiving the youthful Dunne, who agreed with him.

The blond eyed the other man and read the laughter behind the twinkling blue eyes. He knew Vin shopped in this store from time to time. He smiled and led the way into the posh store. They spent an hour searching through the various T-shirts adorned with leprechauns and clovers, but nothing suited Chris.

Wilmington bought a white T-shirt that read Pati'O'Furniture is an Irishmen and told JD this was a better joke than any of the ones he ever told. The kid guffawed as he followed the men from the store. They walked towards the kitchen area, stopping along the way at to look in the smaller stores.

"I gotta check this place out," the drawling sweet-toothed Texan said excitedly, as he walked up to the Montana Candy Company Kiosk.

"Vin, you check that place out all the time," Larabee observed.

"Yeah, Chris, but you know what they say about chocolate?" Dunne asked.

"Kid, if you say it's as good as sex you've been with the wrong women," Wilmington laughed.

"How would you know, Buck? It's been so long since you've been with a woman..."

The ladies' man lifted the baseball cap off the Bostonian's head and slapped him with it. "Watch your mouth, Kid. I'll have you know I was with a fine woman Friday night," he decreed.

"Yeah, but the cleaning lady at the office doesn't count. She's married and has already turned you down, Brother," Sanchez grinned as he looked at Wilmington.

"Ain't she 'bout t'retire, Bucklin?" Tanner teased with a grin.

"Hell, you guys really know how to hurt a guy. It's not my fault I'm going through a little slump," Buck said as he rubbed his moustache.

"Maybe there'll be some ladies at Buck's Place who don't know you by reputation, Mr. Wilmington," Standish said, keeping the smile from his face, but not from his eyes.

"You think so?" Wilmington realized how his voice sounded and then saw the laughter on each of his friends' faces. He knew they were ribbing him and he shook his head. "It's only been three days, Boys, I know that's a long time for me, but I can bet I'll have a pair of ladies on my arms tonight. Care to take the wager, Ezra?"

"Mr. Wilmington, as much as I'd like to indulge in a bit of wagering, I'm afraid I would be on the losing end if I bet against you," Standish assured him.

"Are you saying you know I'd win because of my charm?" Buck asked.

"No," Standish grinned lopsidedly. "Let's just say I don't think you'd be adverse to edging your bets."

"What do you mean?" the scoundrel asked.

"He means you'll cheat, Buck," Jackson observed and laughed at the chagrined look on the womanizer's face.

Wilmington knew Standish was kidding him and he took it in good grace. One of the reasons this unlikely group shared such a good friendship was because of their ability to give as well as take a joke. He thought of how many times he accused Ezra of cheating, yet the other man rarely if ever got upset. He just sat back and waited for Buck to give the go ahead for a new hand and looked smug when he won that one as well. Buck smiled, the animal smile of a man on the prowl. "I'll have me a lady before you can say Blarney," Wilmington laughed, and they all broke down as a chorus of Blarney erupted from each man including the one with the moustache.

"Are you done, Vin?" Larabee asked, shaking his head as the sharpshooter turned towards them, his mouth covered in green chocolate. "Shit, Vin, that's gross," he exclaimed in a semi disgusted voice.

"It's today's special, Chris. Green chocolate Shamrocks. Want one?"

Larabee shook his head as JD and Buck reached into the bag and grasped a piece of the green confectionary. The group turned away from the candy kiosk and walked towards another kiosk that housed coin operated machines.

"Hey, look at this," Dunne called gleefully. He stood before a machine that sold non permanent tattoos for a dollar, looking at small green shamrocks. "I think we should all get one and put it on our faces for today."

"No thank you, Mr. Dunne," Standish was appalled at the idea.

"Come on, Ez, where's your sense of adventure?" Tanner asked.

"I'm always adventurous, Mr. Tanner, I just don't see the need of covering one's face in green shamrocks. I suppose you'll try to force some of that disgusting cereal in my abode next."

"What's wrong with Lucky Charms?" the sharpshooter asked indignantly.

"Nothing, I assure you, Mr. Tanner, but as a man of extraordinary tastes I do not partake of children's cereal," Standish answered as they walked away from the kiosk.

"Yeah, knowin' Ezra, he probably eats something made of oats and fiber for his breakfast," Wilmington laughed.

"And what's wrong with that?" Standish asked.

"Nuthin'," the devilish sharpshooter crowed, elbowing Buck. "...lotsa old folks need help stayin' regular. Must be a bitch when yer plumbin' starts t'act up..."

"Your humor leaves a lot to be desired," Standish rolled his jade eyes, as Wilmington laughed.

"Chris, maybe you'll find something here," Jackson called as he stopped before a kiosk of T-shits and other items.

Larabee grinned as he reached out and touched a black cotton T-shirt. The lightweight material was just what he was looking for but a low voice behind him told him the weren't going to let him buy it in this particular color.

"That's not what you're here for, Chris. Hell, you've got lots of those in your dresser at home. Live dangerously, Stud, get this one." Wilmington announced.

Larabee choked as he looked at the pukey green T-shirt emblazoned with a large four leaf clover. Luck of the Irish was written across the bottom, two small pots of gold were evident on each short sleeve. "Buck, you aimin' to get shot?"

"Come on, Chris, it's perfect. It'll put you right in the mood," Wilmington grinned as he held the T-shirt in front of Larabee. "What do you guys think?"

"I think you've been without a woman too long, Brother. Your taste is beginning to suffer," Sanchez observed as he looked at the loud shirt.

"Come on, Josiah, it's perfect."

"Give it up, Buck," Larabee insisted. "I'm not gonna be caught dead in that."

"Chris it's perfect--"

"Then you wear it, Buck. I'll even buy the damned thing for you."

"Ah, n...no. Ah I...I..."

"Stop stammering, Buck, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy," Larabee smiled.

"I GOT IT!" Vin triumphed, pointing to a sample shirt next to him. It was a dark charcoal gray. From the angle, only Chris could see it, but they saw the slow grin form on Larabee's face. The blond chuckled, scrubbed his chin and nodded.

"I like it!" he decided, as the others crowded behind him to read it.

"Perfect!" JD agreed, as Nate and Ezra nodded.

"You know, that's scary," Buck shook his head, at the ease of which the two close friends seemed to read the other's mind.

The shirt was dark gray with a coiled kelly green snake embroidered on the pocket. From the serpent's mouth, a red forked tongue shot out. Clenched in the sharp teeth was a broken staff. Scattered underneath were broken shamrock's and the words "Saint Who?" Mocking the legend that Saint Patrick drove all the snakes from Ireland.

"It'll take about twenty minutes to get it ready, Sir," the young sales clerk told him.

"That's fine. I'll wait," Larabee told her. "You guys might as well go look around. No sense in all of us waiting here."

"I'll stay with you, Cowboy," Tanner said, nodding to the clerk. "'sides, it's my treat. Ya'll get goin' , we'll meet ya later."

"Alright, Chris, we'll see you at the fast food court at noon," Jackson told them.

"Yeah, Chris, I want to show JD a couple of new young lovelies at the western theme shop," Wilmington said as he looked at his watch. It was exactly eleven a.m. He was looking forward to talking with Mandy and Sandy, the twins who worked as clerks in the new store. Maybe he would have a date, make that two for dinner and drinks at the bar tonight.

"Heck, Buck, Sandy and Mandy are friends of mine," Dunne winked at the others as he followed the sputtering rogue.

Vin and Chris watched as the five men walked away from the kiosk. The two men lapsed into companionable silence as the young girl printed the T-shirt and placed it in a bright green bag. She reached under the counter and picked up a clover green baseball cap with Baseball players are full of Blarney written across it in black lettering.

"The hat is free when you have anything printed for Saint Patrick's day," she said, smiling at the two handsome men standing at her counter.

Vin paid for the shirt and Chris thanked the young woman.

They walked towards the fast food court. Chris turned to the younger man, "Do you need to get anything, Vin? How 'bout I treat you to some coffee. We can wait for the guys here."

"Coffee sounds good, Chris," Tanner said as he popped another green candy in his mouth. "Sure you don't want one, Cowboy?" he asked between bites.

"No, I'm the adult, remember?" Larabee shook his head as they walked towards the fast food section.

The would-be assassin looked at his watch and took a deep breath. His hands were moist and his chest heavy with what was about to occur. He forced his conscience aside, opened the door of his car and climbed out. He reached inside his shirt once more to make sure nothing worked loose.

He pulled an old battered cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number for the new owner's office. He knew the secretary would be on lunch break and he waited for the answering machine to pick up. As soon as the tone sounded he spoke softly, but clearly. "This is the soothsayer, Beware the Ides of March." He dropped the cell phone on the driver's seat as he climbed out of the car.

He closed the door behind him and walked towards the back entrance. The employee's door would take him into the kitchen area. He smiled at the people he saw there, men and women he knew by name. Despite this, he could not let their friendship or innocence stop what he was about to do. He moved quickly through the area used for deliveries, before encountering the tables and chairs. The place was busier than he thought. His chest clenched once again a pang of guilt rose up to touch his heart. No! he thought slamming the door on the tiny hope these people might have had. He knew where the tour would start and he headed for the doors between Arby's and Noodle Express. He stepped up to the Arby's counter and smiled at the young girl serving there. Her bored expression was something he'd seen over and over. During his years of service, that same bland expression greeted him daily. He'd seen places and people come and go and always the same expression on the faces of the people behind the counter. The forced smile and giddy voice of the teenagers the companies hired were always the same.

"Hi, Paul, I've missed seeing you around here. I'm sorry they let you go," the young girl said.

"Thank you, Angie," Paul Gardener said, forcing a smile to his tired brown eyes.

"What would you like?" Angie Miller asked, a little nervous about the look she saw in the older man's eyes.

"Just Pepsi," he told her. He looked to his right as he waited and saw the young man with long hair standing at the next cashier. Get out of here, Vin, he thought, smiling as the young man turned towards him. "Hi, Vin," he greeted the smiling young man.

"Hey, Paul, how're things going?" Tanner asked, unaware the other man was fired a few weeks before.

"It's okay, Vin. What are you doing here on a work day?"

"We're going to a party at Buck's Place tonight. Chris didn't have nothin' green to wear," Tanner explained as he waited for the order of Poutine. The fries slathered in mozzarella cheese curds and gravy were a new menu item. One that hooked the Texan's strange taste buds from the first free sample he tried.

"Did you find anything?" Paul asked as he glanced at his watch. The time was eleven thirty five. He knew if Tanner, Larabee and their friends stuck around for the next ten minutes they'd be caught in the explosions.

"Yeah, had one made up at the T-Shirt Kiosk."

"So you guys are leaving now?" Gardener asked as he glanced at the clock over the Arby's counter.

Tanner felt something was bothering the other man as he picked up his order. "Well, Buck and the others are meeting us here at noon for lunch," Tanner told him.

"Oh, well enjoy it then," Paul lamented regretfully.

"Thanks Paul," Tanner said as he turned from the counter. He walked to the table where his friend sat sipping a cup of gourmet coffee.

Chris looked at the cheese and gravy topped fries with a hint of disgust. "How can you eat that stuff?" he asked.

"This stuff's great, Chris. Don't knock it till you try it," Tanner insisted, his eyes seeking out the cleaner he'd just finished talking to. He spotted him sitting between Arby's and Noodle Express and wondered why he felt a shiver run down his spine.

Buck looked at his watch and smiled at the two red heads. He sighed heavily as he realized it was getting close to the scheduled meeting time. "Mandy, Sandy, think about joining us tonight. I promise you won't be disappointed."

"Will you be there, JD?" Sandy asked mischievously. She liked Buck Wilmington, but there was no way she'd let him think her an easy conquest.

"Yes, ma'am," JD smiled as he looked from one woman to the other. "So will Vin, Chris, Josiah, Nathan and Ezra. We're planning a big party since tomorrow is Saturday and we don't have to work."

"Okay, we'll meet you there around eight," Mandy agreed, smiling as she watched Buck Wilmington's incredulous look. "Don't worry, Buck, I'll save a dance for you," she said coyly.

"Come on, Kid, we gotta meet the others at the fast food court."

"Hey, Buck, there's Ezra, Josiah, and Nathan," Dunne called. "Hey, guys."

"Buck, JD," Jackson greeted. "Are you two ready to meet with Chris and Vin?"

"Yep, I think so," Wilmington smiled as he looked at his watch. Eleven forty three, Ezra'll be on time for a change, he thought as they strode through the busy mall.

"Something wrong, Vin?" Larabee asked, reading the sniper's eyes.

"I'm not sure, Chris. Paul seems a little nervous is all."

"Paul?"

"Yeah, the guy who cleans this place. He's sitting right over there," He nodded with his head to where a middle-aged man sat. "He's acting kind of strange... keeps looking at his watch and the clock," Tanner explained.

Larabee trusted Vin's instincts as much as he trusted his own. If the sharpshooter sensed something was wrong, it usually panned out. He was about to speak when the door marked Employee's Only opened. Three well dressed men and two women stepped through. He knew the mall itself was sold to a multimillion dollar conglomerate and that tours were being conducted in hopes of bringing new businesses into the shopping plaza. He watched as Tanner's eyes veered to the right and came to rest on the cleaner.

"Chris, he's going to do something," Tanner hissed. "He's too nervous. He's looked at that damn clock five times since they came through the door. Get these people outta here!" he snapped as the man he was watching stood up and opened his shirt.

Chris didn't have time to react as Paul Gardener tore open his shirt to reveal numerous sticks of dynamite taped to his chest. He stood up and turned to the people seated in various places around the tables. "Get out of here!" he shouted, his eyes barely registering Vin Tanner standing up and running towards Paul Gardner. "No, Vin, don't!" he snapped. People were already running towards the exits, sensing the threat of danger in the dark clad man's demeanor and shouted commands

"Stay back, Vin," the nervous bomber's words stopped the lean man in his tracks. "You and Chris can leave right now. So can the people working behind the counters. Mr. Johnson and his friends have to stay."

"That's not gonna happen, Paul. Just take your hand off the detonator and we'll talk," Tanner pleaded.

"NO! They can't take away a man's life after he's worked every day for almost thirty years. He deserves to die!" Gardner held his hand on the device and glared at the sharpshooter and the group of five trembling people in front of him. "They're gonna die, Vin. You and Chris leave now. I'm pressing this in two minutes and you're not gonna stop me."

"Paul, I know what happened to you wasn't fair, but this is not the way to set things right," Larabee insisted as he stood beside the sharpshooter. They were twenty feet away from the troubled man and there was no way they could cover the distance in time to stop him from setting off the explosives.

"You got a minute-and-a-half to get outta here, Chris."

"I'm not leaving, Paul," Larabee insisted.

"Neither am I, Paul. So if you press that button you'll be killing us as well. Think of all the people who'll be killed and hurt just because you wanted revenge," Tanner tried, watching as the seconds ticked off on the overhead clock. If Gardner was telling the truth they had less than a minute to make him change his mind.

"That makes you worse than the man who let you go. Come on, Paul, you're better than that," Larabee insisted, his eyes also watching the overhead clock. According to the man's time schedule less than forty five seconds remained before he depressed the button. "Is he worth the deaths of so many people?"

Gardener's resolve began to ebb as he looked from Tanner to Larabee. A mist formed in his eyes as he realized they were right. A movement in front of him caused him to return his attention to the group before him. His hatred screamed in his head as he watched the man who changed his life so dramatically raced for the doors, leaving the others to pay for his sins. "NO!" he shouted as his finger closed over the button.

Vin heard the crackle as the signal was sent from the device in Gardener's hands to the sticks of dynamite strapped to his chest. "NO!" he shouted and turned to run. He saw the blond beside him do the same and knew they wouldn't make it as the first explosive tore through the body of the man they'd once called a friend. A man who would never again clean the tables, the floor, or bathrooms in Rimrock mall. A second explosion sounded before the first one died down and he felt his feet leave the ground. He looked to his left and barely had time to register the fact that Larabee was doing his own imitation of a bird without wings. He slammed into a table and was thrown over it to land in a heap behind the serving wall of one of the kitchens. His mind sounded a third explosion, as his head struck the pole at the back of the kitchen and the lights went out.

Chris could only watch in horror as the explosions continued to rock the kitchen area. He landed heavily against the metal bar separating the smoking and non smoking areas. The burning, sharp pain on his left side, bespoke at least a couple broken ribs. He barely had time to catch a painful breath as the final explosion sounded. He cried out as a large piece of table slammed into him hard. It struck his right shoulder and drove him to the ground, where his back struck against a dislodged post. He felt and heard a distinct crack. His eyes closed as smoke filled the area, his numbed senses didn't connect the acrid odor with a fire.

"Holy shit, what the hell was that?" Dunne shouted as muffled blasts sounded ahead of them.

"It sounds like an explosion," Jackson observed as a second one followed immediately by a third, forth and fifth. The sounds running so closely together the five men lost track of how many they counted as they ran towards the area housing the fast food court rimmed by other stores.

Fire alarms screamed out warnings as the men instinctively ran for the area the sounds emanated from. They passed screaming people as they ran, men and women dropped packages and picked up their kids as they hurried to get away from the collapsing structure.

Neither man voiced their worries as they were brought up short by fires and the collapsing roof. They silently prayed their two friends weren't in the mayhem they saw before them. Pushing the fears out of their minds they ran to help the injured.

JD pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Chris's cell number. He felt four sets of eyes watching him and knew they were hoping the call would be answered. He let it ring ten times before hanging up.

"Try Vin," Jackson ordered even as Dunne's finger hit the speed dial.

"Nothing," the young Bostonian told them as the call went unanswered.

"Fuck!" Wilmington hissed, running towards the Food Court.

"Buck, wait!" Sanchez snapped as he grabbed the moustached man's arm. "We need to help these people first."

The ladies' man stared around at people in various stages of panic and knew the ex-preacher was right. "Shit," he mumbled as he knelt beside a young girl dressed in an Arby's uniform. The tag on her shirt read Angie and he saw the blood oozing from a cut on the back of her head. He knew he shouldn't move her and so ran his hands slowly down her body, the way he'd learned in the First Aid courses. He didn't feel anything broken and smiled thinly as a pair of terrified green eyes shot open and she tried to sit up.

"Just lie still, Angie, you've got a cut on the back of your head," Wilmington advised her as he tore a piece of his shirt and held it to her head. "Stay put," he ordered as he turned to aid a man whose arm was bent at an awkward angle. He watched as the man tried to lift himself off the floor. "Hang on, Buddy, let me help you here," Buck opened the guy's shirt and placed his arm inside, turning it into a makeshift sling.

"Thanks, Mister," the man said as he climbed to his feet.

"You're welcome. Are you able to walk to the main doors on your own?"

"Sure, I'll be fine."

"C...can I come with you, Mister?" Angie asked.

"Sure, Miss, maybe we can help each other."

"You two take it easy," Buck said as he watched the two strangers depart.

JD and Nathan knelt beside an elderly couple. The man refused to move without his wife and Nathan knew by the angle of her neck the woman died instantly. A heavy slab of board struck her from behind and she was dead before she hit the floor. The man sat beside her, blood streaming from a cut along his arm, his soft sobs a sign he knew his wife was gone from him. JD bit his lip as he tried to help Jackson care for the older man.

"Oh, Milly, my poor little Milly. Why?" he screamed in a raspy voice as he looked from Jackson to Dunne. "Why would he take her like this?"

"Josiah," Jackson called, resting a arm across the old man's back.

"Yes, Brother," Sanchez said as he hurried towards the medic. He saw the distraught man kneeling beside the woman and knew from his cries why Jackson called him. "Sir, we need to get you out of here," the ex-preacher soothed.

"I can't leave Milly. She's afraid of being alone. Always has been. Why would he take her from me?"

Sanchez remained silent, letting the man talk through his grief.

"He shouldn't have taken her. Not now, Mister. She just got out of the hospital last week. We came here cause it's our golden wedding anniversary. She's been so sick and the doctors didn't think she'd make it, but she did and now he takes her like this. Please, Milly, don't go!" He gasped as he reached trembling, aged hands towards the woman he'd married fifty years ago today.

"God, takes special people to live with him. Milly must've been pretty special for him to want her so bad," Sanchez explained as he watched Jackson and Dunne move to help Ezra with a family of four hurrying through the billowing smoke.

"Milly was real special. She volunteered at the hospital and at the home we live in. She sang with our church choir," the man sobbed, his shoulders trembling, his heart breaking as Sanchez reached out and held him.

"She'll be waiting for you when the time comes, Brother. A love such as your transcends all boundaries."

"She'll be there?" the man looked at Josiah, pain and anguish like Sanchez had never seen evident in the pale blue grey eyes.

"She'll be waiting for you in heaven. Now why don't you go with this gentlemen and let him get you outside?"

"B...but, Milly..."

"Would Milly want you to stay here and cry over her when it's only her body that's here?"

"N...No," the elderly man mumbled as he felt strong hands pull him to his feet.

"She'd want you to take care of yourself wouldn't she?"

"Y...yes," the man let the newcomer take his arm and lead him away. "T...thank you, Mister," he whispered as he walked away.

Sanchez nodded and removed his jacket, covering the woman's head and shoulders with it. He hurried towards another man tumbling from the haze of smoke billowing towards them from the fast food court. "Are you okay?" he asked. The man nodded as he raced past in his haste to escape the destruction. Sanchez turned his attention to helping his friends care for the injured who were still streaming from the area the explosions emanated from.

Chris slowly moved, crying out as he jarred his injured shoulder. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his ribs made him realize it might not be a good idea at the moment. He reached up and touched the left side of his head, his fingers coming away sticky. "What the hell happened?" he thought as he finally made it to his feet. His shoulder was either broken or dislocated, either way he needed to immobilize it as best he could before he moved around. He slid his arm into his shirt and gasped as lights danced in front of his eyes. He waited for the dizziness to ease and finally looked around at the destruction and chaos.

Wires hung from the collapsed ceiling, pipes hissed and sputtered as water dropped into the small fire around him. Smoke, black and thick, covered half the area he was in. He knew he needed to get out from under the barriers and escape. The dark smoke threatened to choke the life from his lungs and he shook his head, trying to ward off the confusion he felt. Pain lanced through his skull as he tried to think. A sound from behind an untouched kitchen counter caused a hysterical laugh to pass his lips. "I'll have a pretzel with all the toppings," he laughed as he saw the sign over the small kitchen. "Shit," he cried, as the laugh caused more pain to filter into his confused mind. "Where the hell am I?" he asked. The sound came again and he looked towards the counter. He moved sluggishly towards it and glanced over the top. The sight that met his eyes drove the breath from his lungs. "Oh Jesus, Vin!" he screamed, ignoring his injuries and climbing over the counter.

He landed heavily on the other of the counter and cried out as his ribs pounded against his chest. He trembled on shaky legs as he made his way to the fallen man. He knelt beside his fallen friend and gasped as his shoulder throbbed with mind numbing pain. He saw the deep gash over Tanner's right ear and flinched. He knew by the amount of blood matting his hair, Vin would probably be suffering from a concussion. "Hell, Larabee, you've got one of your own," he mumbled as his vision blurred. He kept his eyes closed until the dizziness passed and the nausea disappeared.

He used his left hand to check for broken bones, running his fingers up and down both side of the sharpshooter's body. He felt a couple move as he touch the left side. "Fuck, Vin, looks like we're in the same boat." Larabee gently prodded both legs and found a large tear along the right thigh, just above the knee. Dark blood continued to pool around the area at an alarming rate. Chris ripped a piece from the bottom of his shirt. He bit back a scream as his arm dislodged from the inside of his shirt. "Shit!" he gasped as the flood of pain finally eased. He used the shirt and pressed against Vin's leg, grimacing as he watched the pain come unbidden to his friend's face. The pale almost gray skin of the sharpshooter's face worried him and he was grateful the man was unconscious as he tended his wounds.

The emergency lighting flickered and Chris swore as they went out. The darkness lasted no more than a minute before the bright orange lights glowed eerily. The sound of water hissing reminded him there were fires all over the area. The smoke didn't reach where they were, but he knew it wasn't going to stay that way much longer.

He turned his attention back to his friend and was surprised to see two very intense blue eyes staring up at him. "Hey, Vin, how're you feeling?"

"Like someone beat the shit outta me. What the fuck happened?" Tanner groaned, wincing as Larabee pressed down on the leg wound again.

"What do you remember?" Chris asked, hoping to find out if the younger man had any residual effects from the blow to the head.

"We were shopping for..." he closed his eyes and tried to force the memories to come. "Shit! We were buying you a shirt. Hell, Larabee, if you felt so strongly about wearing green you could've told us instead of taking out the whole mall," Tanner hissed painfully.

Larabee smiled at the younger man's attempt at humor in spite of the situation. "I don't feel this strongly, Tanner," he told his friend.

"Shit, Paul Gardener!" the sharpshooter hissed as he tried to sit up.

"Wait, let me make sure this has stopped bleeding," Larabee ordered, lifting the makeshift bandage and checking the wound. He pressed the blood soaked bandage down once more as the blood continued to well up from the nasty wound. "Vin, I'm gonna see if they have any of those little white towels around here. You stay put!" The blond stood up and staggered to the door leading into the storage area. He propped the door open with a milk crate, ignoring the rising bile in his stomach. He found the drawers and pulled them open until he found a dozen of the clean towels and a roll of masking tape. He pulled them from the drawer and rejoined his friend. He knew Tanner didn't hear him come back, evidenced by the pain etched in the handsome face. "How are you doing, Vin?" he asked.

"I...I'm okay, Chris, what about you?"

"I'm fine," Larabee answered and the two men broke into laughter. "It's a good thing Nathan's not around..." his voice trailed off as he wondered about the whereabouts of the five missing men. Were they in the food court area when the explosions occurred? Were they hurt or buried in the rubble somewhere?

"They weren't here, Cowboy," Tanner assured his friend, his own worry showing in the pain in his eyes.

Larabee nodded in agreement, going to work on the sharpshooter's leg.

Tanner watched the other man, he could read the pain in the green eyes and on the handsome face. He knew by the way Larabee moved that he was hurting, he favored his left side and the sharpshooter figured there were a couple of broken ribs his friend was trying to contend with. "Chris?"

Larabee lifted his face and turned his eyes on the longhaired man. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"How bad are you hurt?"

"Not as bad as it could've been. Hold this," he ordered as he reached for the masking tape. Tanner held the thick towel in place over the leg wound as Larabee used his teeth to pull a strip of tape from the roll and wrap it around the leg. He ignored Vin's bitten off cry of agony and continued to work. The blond gritted his teeth as the movement jarred his arm. He sat down next to his friend as he finished taping the makeshift bandage in place.

"Is the arm broke?" Tanner asked softly. He was having trouble focusing, but tried to concentrate. He needed to keep his wits about him until help arrived.

"Think so. Sure as hell feels like it," Larabee leaned his head back against the counter and closed his eyes.

"Make sure you don't do too much with it."

Larabee turned his attention to the head wound and frowned. The deep laceration needed to be cleaned and covered. He looked around and spotted a bottle of mineral water in the corner. The blond reached for it and looked into his friend's glazed eyes. He knew Tanner was probably suffering from a concussion. Chris also realized the young man was trying to fight off the dizziness and nausea that went with it. He cleaned the blood from the matted hair and pressed another towel against the wound. "Hold this," he took Tanner's right hand and held it against the thin towel. The Firm's leader used his teeth and tore off several strips of tape. Once he finished securing the bandage he met his friends gaze once more. The eyes seemed to focus on him, but there was still a glassy quality to them. He stuffed a few of the towels into one pocket and the roll of tape in the other, knowing they'd probably need both before the day was over.

His worry grew as he watched the younger man turn away. Chris held him as he lost the meal he consumed before their world exploded around them. He helped Tanner sit back against the counter and spoke with grim determination. "We have to find a way out of here before the smoke is overpowering. There's a couple of electrical fires and the smoke around where Gardener pushed the button is thick and black. I'm gonna check and see if anyone needs help."

"I'm coming with you."

"Vin, You've got a concussion and you can't move around much with that leg. I don't want it to start bleeding again."

"I'm not sitting around here while you're out there, Larabee!" the eyes flashed in anger, "So just shut up and give me a hand!"

"Vin, you've got broken ribs and a serious head wound..."

"Join the club, Chris, I saw the way you were holding your side and that cut on your head is probably gonna take a few stitches to close up."

Larabee grinned at his friend and extended his hand. He knew as long as Tanner was conscious he'd move. He looked around and realized this was probably not the safest place for them to be. Chris felt Tanner's left hand grasp his and pulled. The two men fought back cries of pain as the sharpshooter made it to his feet.

"Shit!" Vin cried as he tried to put weight on the injured limb. He leaned heavily against the counter and surveyed the damage surrounding them. The ceiling collapsed over ground zero where the explosions took place. They'd been saved because of their own quick thinking and their physical conditioning. He looked at the blond and knew he was thinking the same thing. "We better check for survivors and get the hell outta here," he said as a mute groaning came from overhead. He looked up as chunks of plaster and wood began to fall around them. "Chris!" he shouted.

"Lets go!" Larabee hissed as the two men climbed awkwardly over the countertop.

"Shit!" Tanner exclaimed as the kitchen they'd just been in collapsed in on itself. He doubled over and sank to the floor as his leg gave out. He clenched his eyes as he held his arm against his ribs. He peeled them open and looked to his right, he shook his head as his vision blurred. Once the dizzy spell passed he forced his eyes open and once more turned to his friend. "Chris, are you okay?"

The blond turned his head and met his friend's gaze. "If I look anything like you I'd have to say no," he smiled as he climbed to shaky legs once more. He felt Tanner pull himself up beside him. Both men looked into the kitchen they'd been standing in. The space they occupied minutes before was totally obliterated by the plaster, wood, metal, and anything else that made up the structure of the mall's food court.

"Well, I guess we're not gettin' out that way," Tanner observed. "Let's see if anyone needs our help," the sharpshooter said as he hopped away from the destroyed counter. His stomach rebelled with the movement, yet he refused to give into it. There'd be time enough for that once they found a way out or rescue arrived. He could hear his friend following him and knew neither of them was in shape to help anyone. Never stopped us before, he thought with a pale grin.

"Vin," Larabee stopped suddenly and felt in his pants pocket.

The sniper pulled up short, swearing under his breath as he put a little too much weight on his injured leg. He turned and watched his friends anxious movements. "Chris, what the hell is wrong with ya?"

"I lost my cell phone. Did you bring yours?"

"Hell, yeah," Tanner grinned as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the cell.

Chris watched the excitement fade as the unit came apart in his friend's hand.

"Dammit!" the younger man snapped as he dropped the remnants on the Nokia to the floor. "S...sorry, Chris."

Larabee reached out and grabbed his friends arm as he swayed. "I think we'd better rest for a few minutes," he said, his voice full of the same disappointment he could see on his Tanner's face.

Nathan Jackson watched as the rescue workers began tearing away the pile of rubble blocking the way into the fast food court. He could see Buck, Josiah, Ezra and JD digging into the debris alongside men and women in city uniforms. It was over three hours since the initial explosion and so far the death toll stood at fifteen. Some were killed outright by flying debris, others suffered severe injuries and they succumbed to them before they reached the hospital.

Nathan sighed heavily as he wondered where Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner were at the moment. They continued to call both numbers periodically, but met with no success. He prayed the cell phones were broken and that was why they received no answer. He knew the city rescue workers and firemen were trying to get to ground zero, but so far no luck. Whatever caused the explosion succeeded in cutting the area off and he could only hope they found people alive behind the barrier. Smoke continued to billow out through cracks in the debris, but it wasn't as thick or heavy as when they first began working on it.

Jackson turned back to the triage area, where men, women and children waited for transportation to the hospital. The critically injured were long since removed and now it was mainly minor injuries facing them. He walked between some of the patients and stood beside a paramedic. The Medic was trying to console a young woman whose husband was among the critically injured. He was one of the first people to be taken away by ambulance and she would be leaving in the next one. Her right ankle was broken and the paramedics immobilized it while she waited. Nathan looked at the small boy seated at the end of the row. The child had a cut on his arm that would require several stitches and they'd placed it in a sling while they waited for help to arrive. He looked around at the rows of blankets where people were either sitting or lying down. He shook his head and wondered why some were spared while others suffered. There was nothing he could do to help here. Instead he turned to the wall of debris and walked towards his friends, intent on helping find their missing members.

Chris and Vin continued to search the area. So far they'd found four people, all dead, killed by the initial blast. They struggled painfully over broken tables, garbage cans, pots and pans and other debris. The fires were pretty well out but the smoke lingered, causing both injured men's eyes to tear and burn. The coughing had begun and they knew it wouldn't be long before the poisonous smoke spread through out the area. They were able to find bottled water in a fridge that was tipped on its side outside one of the counters. They took a couple each and closed the door, knowing they could get more when they needed it. Both men knew how important it was to keep up their fluid intake.

Vin swore as he staggered and went down on his right leg, jagged pain running from the gash on his thigh outwards to encompass his whole leg. "Shit! Son of a Bitch," he gasped as Larabee knelt beside him and lifted the blood soaked towel.

"Vin, you're gonna have to stay off this leg. You're losing too much blood," the blond ordered. He pulled one of the towels he'd taken the time to tuck into the back pocket of his jeans and placed it over the wound. He sympathized with the younger man as he heard the sharp intake of breath from Tanner. "Sorry," he muttered as he quickly replaced the soaked towel.

"Fuck, Chris!" Tanner lifted his body off the floor as Larabee increased the pressure on his injured leg.

"S...sorry, Vin, I've got to stop the bleeding."

"I...I know, just gimme a minute," the sharpshooter hissed.

"Can't, Vin, I almost got it stopped," Larabee said as he lifted the edge of the towel. "It's stopped, but it won't be if you start shifting around again," he replaced the towel with the last clean one and used his left arm to wrap the tape around the wound while Tanner held the makeshift bandage in place. "Now you just stay put!" Larabee ordered as he stood up.

"Chris, I can help."

"Yes, Vin, you can, by sitting there and not dying on me!" Larabee straightened up and grabbed at his left side as pain lanced through it.

"Maybe you should take your own advice, Chris."

"I'm okay, Vin, just a little twinge."

"Chris, you've got broken ribs. You go shifting them around you're liable to end up with a punctured lung," Tanner warned.

"V...Vin...I..." his voice trailed off as a soft sobbing reached both their ears.

Tanner quickly got to his feet, both men ignoring their injuries as the cries grew worse. Vin hopped behind Chris, wary of his injury. It was further from the initial blast area and they pulled up short beside the remainder of Fuddrucker's hamburger shop. A young girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen, wearing the uniform of an employee, lay trapped beneath the heavy stainless steel sink.

"Easy, Miss, we got ya," Tanner explained as he knelt beside the injured girl.

"Please, help me," she begged as her face contorted in pain.

"We're gonna do just that," Larabee smiled at her. "What's your name?"

"C...Cindy. Oh, God, it hurts," she cried.

"I know it does, Cindy. But we're gonna have you out from under there in no time," Tanner explained.

"Vin, I'm gonna lift this, see if you can pull her out!"

"Alright, Chris," Tanner knew they were both in danger of doing more damage to themselves by doing this, but both men knew it was necessary. He bent down and grabbed the victim under the shoulders and nodded to his friend. "Ready!" he said.

"On three," Larabee said. "One, two, three!" he gasped as he strained to lift the edge of the heavy sink. A sharp stabbing pain in his side assured him there was more damage than just broken ribs. He bit his lip in an effort to keep from crying out as he managed to hold onto the sink. He heard Tanner's grunt of pain as he pulled on the injured girl. He heard her cry out as well as her body was pulled free of the metal that had trapped her.

"Drop it, Chris!" Tanner ordered as the young girl's arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Larabee didn't need to be told twice. He dropped the metal sink, clasped his left arm against his throbbing ribs and hurried to his friend's side. "Cindy, my name's Chris Larabee and this is Vin Tanner. We need to check to see we're your injured."

"I...I'm not hurt," she sobbed. "I just couldn't get out. Mr. Carter's big soup pot kept most of the weight off me. Thank you so much," she said as she released Tanner and looked from one man to the next. "Y...you're both hurt," the girl said.

"We're okay," Tanner smiled as he gingerly got up, shifting his weight to his uninjured limb. "We're gonna see if we can find a way out of here as soon as we check you out."

"Vin, I'm just gonna check the storage area behind Fuddrukkers while you make sure Cindy's okay."

"Just be careful, Larabee!" Tanner warned as he made the girl sit beside him. He used his hands and checked for broken bones or anything else they would need to look after. He was relieved when he realized she seemed to be suffering from only minor cuts and bruises. The heavy pot, which saved her life was dented and he knew the young woman was lucky the sink hadn't crushed her. He passed her a bottle of the mineral water and watched as she gulped it greedily. He nodded as she mumbled Thanks.

Vin's worry continued to grow as he glanced towards the closed doors, praying his friend would be okay. He looked down at his leg and swore, hating how much it incapacitated him. Not fuckin' likely, he thought as he regained his feet. There was no way he was letting Chris Larabee do everything. One way or the other his legs were gonna move and he'd be helping get them out of here. He smiled as Jackson's voice sounded in his ear. Goddamned stubborn, bull headed... "Yeah, yeah, Nathan, I hear ya," he mumbled as he watched the girl stand up.

"What did you say?" Cindy asked.

"Nothin'," Tanner told her as she pulled his arm over her shoulders. "You stay here. I'm gonna see what's takin' him so long."

"No!" her voice was edged with terror as she grabbed his arm. "D...don't leave me here!"

"Ah, hell, Kid," he said as he realized just how scared she was.

"Vin," Chris called as he came back through the doors. Breathing was a little difficult, but he wasn't about to let on to his two companions. "There's no way out back there. The whole ceiling is down and there was a slow gas leak. I found the valve and shut it down."

"Gas, shit, Chris, most of these places use gas. We've got to shut down the valves before the whole place goes!" Tanner exclaimed.

"Yeah, but some of the places are impossible to get to. Hopefully they've turned off the main lines and we should be okay. I think our priority right now should be to see if there are any other survivors and find a way out of here. If we come across anymore gas leaks we can shut them down," Larabee leaned heavily against the table with his left hand. His head was pounding and he knew he wouldn't be on his feet much longer.

"Chris, you should sit down for a while," Tanner suggested.

"You're one to talk, Vin. I'm sure I told you to stay off the damned leg!"

"Can't have you playin' hero by yourself, Larabee," Tanner's blue eyes twinkled as he watched his friend. "Look, Chris, we need each other right now."

Larabee looked at the younger man and knew what he was saying was true. If they were to have any chance to survive they needed to work together. He looked at his watch and noted the time was four thirty. Over four hours since the explosions ripped through this area of the mall. "I know, Vin, but you've already lost a lot of blood."

"I'm okay, Chris. If I start to feel dizzy then I'll sit down, but..."

"But what?"

"You have to do the same. You look like crap, Cowboy."

"Thanks, Vin," Larabee's face paled as he took a deep breath and looked around. "Any idea where we should start?" he asked as he sipped at the warm bottle of water he held. The fires were out, but they'd both breathed in a lot of the thick acrid smoke the flames produced. He knew Vin was fighting the urge to cough as much as he was. Something told him they'd both end up paying for that, but right now coughing would cause more pain than either of them could handle.

"I think our best bet is on the other side of the Noodle Express. I'm guessin' that's where rescue will come from."

"Alright, we'll look around and make sure there's no one else and then we'll see if we can do anything to aid in our own rescue," Larabee told them.

For half an hour the three exhausted people moved through the clutter of tables and stools. They found a few bodies, but no one else seemed to have escaped alive.

Vin staggered behind Chris and Cindy. He remembered the earlier panic and knew there had to be more bodies buried under the destruction. The place wasn't as busy as most holidays, but there were more shoppers than normal. He wrapped an arm around his ribs, his breathing labored as he followed his friend. He coughed into his hand and groaned as he spotted small flecks of blood. The world around him spun at an alarming rate and his stomach churned.

Larabee heard his friend's haggard coughs and turned towards him. He saw the pain and panic in the sharpshooter's eyes as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes dropped to the cupped hands and he realized the red color he saw in the emergency lighting was fresh blood. He was bleeding internally or one of the broken ribs punctured his lung. "Vin!" he gasped as he stumbled to where his friend was slowly sinking to the floor. "Why the hell didn't you say something?"

"D...didn't know, C...Chris...s...shit....hurts..."

"I know it does, Cowboy," Larabee tried to examine his friend. He swore as he was hampered by his own injuries. He heard sobs from behind him and realized it was the young girl. He couldn't take the time to reassure her. He would take care of Vin first, then deal with the hysterical girl.

Buck and JD stood side by side, watching as the newcomers dug into the debris. The two were taking a much needed break from the heavy rescue work. They watched as Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra came towards them carrying a tray of food and coffee with them.

Volunteers continued to work to remove the clutter from the dwindling pile. So far, they uncovered a couple of pockets of clear air. This allowed several dozen people to be released from their terrifying prisons. The death toll was now at twenty seven and would continue to climb as they neared the section where the explosion occurred.

"Hey, we're almost through," the call came from one of the workers near the section where the Noodle Express would've been.

The five members of The Firm dropped the sandwiches and coffees onto the tray and hurried to help. None of the men voiced their fears. This was the area they expected to meet Chris and Vin. Vin loved the food at Arby's and they usually sat at a table near the fast food court.

"It's been six damn hours!" Buck hissed in frustration, at his watch read fifteen minute past six p.m. What should have been a holiday celebration, instead was a numbing feast of fear. A terrifying vision of two bloodied bodies, with blood soaked hair and mangled Texan limbs chilled him. You two damn well better be alive on the other side of this shit! he thought as he pulled a large splintered board from the rubble.

Through a veiled haze of pain, Vin gazed at the weary pair struggling to dig through the mess. Larabee's face was a mask of agony and even from this distance, Vin could feel the pain etched in the green eyes. The sharpshooter bit his lip and held back a cry of pain as he shifted slightly on the floor. The agony in his chest was almost unbearable as he struggled to breath. He closed his eyes and fought back the blackness at the edge of his vision. His head pounded to the steady rhythm of the throbbing pain in his leg. He could feel the tightness in his chest as he breathed shallowly in order to minimize his discomfort. He slowly drifted on the sea of pain, praying that it would ease to a more bearable level.

Chris looked away from the debris he was pulling at long enough to glance at his friend. Tanner was propped up against one of the tables. His breathing didn't seem as harsh and the bleeding stopped. With every passing moment, the sharpshooter's strength was ebbing badly, and that worried him. He knew the young man lost a lot of blood from the wound in his thigh and he wondered just how long he'd been bleeding internally. God, don't let him die! he thought as he turned back to the job at hand. The black clad man could hear Cindy working next to him and knew she was doing her best to control her emotions. He looked at his own bloody knuckles and broken fingernails and figured hers must look the same way. Larabee worked steadily, using his left arm to do all the work. He tried to use the right one, but the pain was overwhelming and he nearly passed out. He vowed to buy the young girl and her family dinner once they escaped this deathtrap. Hell, Larabee, it'll have to wait till you're out of the hospital, he laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. He was having difficulty drawing air into his lungs, but he chose to ignore it. He felt the urge to cough, but refused to give into it, knowing if he gave into it he wouldn't be able to stop.

"I...I think I hear something," Cindy sat back and listened intently.

Larabee stopped digging and waited for the sound the girl heard to be repeated. It wasn't long before he heard the faint scraping and knew she was right. He dropped the slab of wood he held and hurried back to his friend. "They're coming, Vin." He waited for the glazed blue eyes to open before repeating the words. "We heard them. It won't be long now before we outta this mess. You're doing fine."

"...full of shit..," Tanner groaned, then managed a weak smile. "c...c...a... n't... lie... wo... worth... a... damn... Lar..lar...a..b..b..ee..." He didn't supress the groan of pain, allowing a bloody burst of bubbles to escape his pale lips. "...s..or..r..y... C...h..r..r..i..s.."

"What?" Larabee perplexed, using his good hand to wipe the blood from the grim mouth.

"...shirt...lost your...new...sh..sh...ir..t..."

Chris's eyes filled and he glanced upwards, before reaching out and pulled Vin into his arms. He muffled a cry as Tanner's head came in contact with his own broken arm. He held his friend's trembling body, fear gripping his heart. The sharpshooter's normally dancing blue eyes were filled with pain and sorrow. The lids began to close and Chris spoke sharply, "Don't you dare leave me, Vin!" he hissed. " I won't... I... can't let you go! You hear me, Tanner, I don't care how much pain you're in, you better not fuckin' quit on me now. I don't care if I'm being a selfish bastard..." his voice tapered off as he watched the eyes open once more. "That's it! Open your eyes and quit scaring the shit outta me!"

"T... take... long t... time..." the sharpshooter's voice trailed off as he struggled to breath.

"What's gonna take a long time?" Larabee asked seriously.

"S... scare s... shit outta y...you." Vin grinned weakly, tapping a bloody hand on Chris's leg. "You...re... f...full of it."

Tanner's smile warmed Larabee's heart. He knew the effort it took for the younger man to talk let alone joke with him. "Join the club!" the blond smiled down at his semi conscious friend.

"Is he okay?" Cindy asked softly.

"He's just fine. Aren't you, Cowboy?" Larabee slicked back the long strands of sweat soaked hair and stared into the pain filled eyes.

"N... never b...better," he mumbled tiredly.

The blond held onto his friend for fear of losing him should the contact cease. The blue orbs were closed now, but a pair of worried green ones continued to watch the pale face. He looked to where Cindy sat listening, praying the sounds of rescue would continue.

The young girl swiped at the tears in her eyes as she listened intently. Her heart leaped into her chest as she heard a male voice call out.

"Is anyone in there?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh, God, we need help! We're here!" she screamed, her voice edging toward hysteria.

"How many of you are there?"

"Three."

"Are you all okay?"

"No!" she cried as tears flowed down her dirty face. "There's two men and they're hurt. Please, God, hurry!" she cried.

"We're almost through. Can you move back?"

"Okay," Cindy laughed as tears continued to create clean tracks down her cheeks. She moved to sit with her two companions. Fear gripped her once more as she saw how incredibly pale the two men were. The longhaired man's head lay against the blond's chest. The older man holding tightly to his friend. "They're almost here!" she told Chris, resting a hand on his back and tapping it gently.

"Did you hear that, Vin? Help's almost here. You just hold onto me and we'll be outta here before you know it." Larabee kept his eyes on his friend's chest even as he heard movement from the pile of rubble. He pressed his lips close to the stilled man's ear and spoke in an urgent tone. "I won't leave you... I'm right here. I got you, Cowboy."

Cindy stood up and rushed forward as two men in rescue workers uniforms came through the opening. She rushed towards them and wrapped her arms around the first man she came to. "Thank God!" she cried as she clung tightly to the newcomer.

"Are you hurt, Miss?" the dark haired man holding her asked. His companion moved towards the two seated men and knelt in front of them.

"N...no. I'm fine! B...but they need help," she explained as she released the choke hold on the rescuer.

"We're gonna get them all the help they need, Miss."

"Cindy."

"Cindy," he smiled at her as he turned her towards a woman coming through the entrance they cleared. "Go with Marcia and she'll get you out of here. Okay?"

"O...okay," she mumbled tiredly as the woman took her arm and led her towards the entrance.

"Marcia, tell them we need the paramedics in here," he ordered.

"I will, Stan!" she replied, leading the dazed girl to safety.

Stan Mercer hurried to the injured men. His partner was talking to the blond, but Stan could tell the man was having a hard time focusing. "How are they, Mark?"

"That one's unconscious," he said, pointing to the inert body cradled against his friend's chest. "I don't think he's gonna be awake much longer either. Hey, Buddy, what's your name?"

"Lar..a..a...bee... Chr..is...," the answer was barely audible as the man refused to look at either of them. Larabee continued to watch his friends chest, afraid if he took his eyes off him the motion would stop.

"Someone's coming out!" Dunne shouted as he heard sounds from the hole they shored up in order to attempt the rescue operation.

"It's Marcia and she's got a girl with her," one of the workers called.

Two Paramedics rushed forward and took control of the young girl. They put her on a gurney and strapped her in place even as she tried to voice her protests.

"Please, you gotta help them. I'm not hurt!" she insisted as a blanket was placed over her trembling body.

"There's more teams, Miss, we just want to get you checked out."

"No, you don't understand. They need help. Vin's hurt b..."

Jackson was closest to the gurney and he heard the name. He stopped the paramedics from taking the girl and asked. "Did you say Vin?" His brown eyes were tense as they searched for the answer. "He have long hair, blue eyes and talks with a soft drawl?"

Her eyes lit up as someone finally listened to her. "Yes! That's Vin. He's hurt, Mister, and so is Chris. They need help!"

"We'll help them. You go with these guys and get checked out."

"Promise you'll help them?"

"I promise," Jackson said as the paramedics wheeled her towards the exit. "I'm going in!" he said and knew the others were following him. He ducked under the precariously hanging debris and carefully made his way through the opening at the end of the small tunnel. He heard voices before he came into the dull lighting. Keen brown eyes quickly landed on four figures seated a short distance away. He hurried towards the men and mumbled thanks as the two rescue workers moved out of the way. He knelt in front of his friends, horrified by the pained features and ghostly pallor of their skin.

"Chris, can you hear me?" he asked.

Strange voices invaded his raging inferno. Where was he? Scattered images filtered through his private hell. An explosion... screams... debris... then nothing. Where? Arsonists... yeah must be the Salerno case. Sharp spears of pain slashed his body and it was with great difficulty he got his eyes half open. Strange faces loomed over him, large and garish. The distorted images along with the distracting, voices scared him. His breath increased, sending new waves of pressure into his tight chest. Vin... they were going to hurt Vin...

"Hey?" the concerned brown eyes saw the mask of fear on Larabee's pale features. Confusion was common during a head injury... he saw the deathgrip the blond had on his best friend and smiled. Chris would die before he'd let anyone near the bloody Texan. He leaned his face lower, hoping the dazed man would understand him. "The paramedics are on the way, Chris. Why don't you let me take a look at him?" Jackson could feel four pairs of eyes watching them and knew the other members of the team were standing behind him.

"NO!" his voice tapered off as a harsh cough wracked his body. He held his friend tightly as his eyes filled with pain. They were surrounding him now, trying to pry Vin from his arms. They were going to kill Vin, of that he was sure. Hadn't the note warned of that... he tried to remember the bragging arsonists letter. "NO!" he hissed, clenching his arms tighter. Nobody touched Tanner... nobody!

Jackson watched the dazed man before him. He could see Larabee was having difficulty drawing air into his lungs, but there was also black spittle at the corners of his mouth. He knew both men must've inhaled smoke. They needed to get them on oxygen and to the hospital as soon as possible. He looked over his head and watched as two teams of paramedics hurried towards them. "Chris, the paramedics are here. They're gonna take care of you and Vin."

"Ly...in...g... sac... of... shit..." Larabee growled weakly, his chest on fire. "...you won't ..g..g..et..him... die... f.f..i..rs..t..."

Wilmington knelt beside Jackson, fear gripping his hear. To see Chris in such pain was one thing, to see him lost in another world, confused and alone, tore at him. "Hey, Pard, let me take him so the medics can take a look at you both."

"B...Buck?" Chris frowned. Was it a trick? Were they imitating his oldest friend? Where was Buck? Maybe Buck was hiding... and the voice was real. NO! His inner alarm sounded. The clashing caused his aching head to split. "Fuck off... Sa...ler...no..."

"Salerno?" Nathan jerked his head. "Christ, he's lost in time. That was what? Five months ago?"

"Shit!" Buck hissed, recalling the killer whose baiting notes, full of rhymes, stymied the federal and local authorities. Chris recognized the pattern, from his younger days. He knew it was Guido Salerno and they'd split up, covering three potential sites. He and Vin were trapped in the building that eventually blew up, killing the arsonist. "CHRIS!" He shouted, "It's Buck, I'm gonna get you and Vin out... we gotta hurry..."

"C...can't, p...promised... wouldn't l...let h...him go." the blond pleaded. What was wrong with Buck? Couldn't he see it was a trap? Salerno was right there. He intensified his hold on Vin.

"You have to, Chris, but he'll be at the hospital when you get there," the ladies' man assured his friend as he tried to take the sharpshooter's form his arms.

Larabee's reaction was instantaneous. Green eyes came up and blazed with anger. The arms enfolding the tracker clenched tightly, causing a soft groan to escape the younger man's lips. Chris glared at the moustached man. "D... Don't you fuckin' touch him!" he gasped at the strangers. He blinked hard, trying to focus on a face close by. Was that Buck or one of Salerno's men? He couldn't take the chance, not with Vin's life.

Josiah looked up as a sound emanated from overhead. A small shower of dust and debris fell around them and he knew the ceiling wouldn't last much longer. "We need to get them out now," he snapped.

"Chris, I have to take him," Wilmington soothed as he tried again to free the unconscious man from the strong arms that held him.

"No!" the blond screamed as the body was taken from his arms. He felt strong hands touch him, but he struggled against them in an effort to reach his friend. "P...promised. P...please... Buck... they'll kill... him... Buck..."

"It's okay, Chris," the scoundrel assured him. "Nathan and the paramedics are looking after him. They'll get him out. Now you just lie there and let these guys do the same for you." He watched as the two teams of paramedics worked quickly on his friends. Identical cervical collars were applied to both men and they were moved to backboards. Larabee continued to protest weakly as he was strapped to the backboard. Tanner didn't make a sound during his treatment. Wilmington looked from one man to the other, wondering how a day that started out with such promise, ended with his two friends in dire need of medical attention. His thoughts were drawn back to the present as debris rained down on them from above. "We need to get out of here now!" he shouted and helped the paramedics lift the stretcher holding Larabee. He saw Josiah move in to help with Tanner and knew the others were grabbing the extra equipment.

The injured Texan was moved through the tunnel first, Larabee came through next, the rest of the men and equipment following behind the injured members of the team. All eyes turned to the tunnel as a screeching noise came from within. Seconds later the escape route was once again obliterated in a mound of broken wood, concrete, and other debris.

The two paramedics working on Vin Tanner ignored the sounds around them. Their focus was totally on the critically injured man before them. His breathing seemed to be growing worse and when the older man checked the inside of his mouth there was evidence of black soot. He lifted his stethoscope and placed it to the man's chest. He knew his partner was trying to start and IV, but was having some difficulty. He cut Tanner's clothes from his body and hooked up the monitoring equipment. The equipment came to life immediately and started beeping.

"Jack, I can't get it! He's shutting down!" Braeden exclaimed as he tried unsuccessfully to insert an IV line.

"Shit, blood pressure's only 70 by palpation! His heart rates slowing! We're losing him!" Jack snapped as the two men worked side by side to save the injured man's life. "He's not getting any air. I'm gonna intubate him!" The two paramedics were not new to emergency scenes and they worked quickly. One man held the victim's head while the other inserted the tube down his throat.

Jackson watched as the team worked over the sharpshooter. It wasn't long before they had the tube down Tanner's throat and were inserting medication into it. He heard Jack tell Braeden to place one milligram epinephrine down the tube. He knew in his heart the tracker was fighting for each and every breath. His heart sank as he watched Braeden take a long needle and insert it into his friend's left side. He knew they were trying to help him breath easier.

Braeden heard the soft whoosh of air as the needle found its mark, he watched as a hint of color returned to his patient's face. He sighed as he turned his attention to the other tasks he needed to accomplish before they could move the injured man to the hospital.

Nathan turned his attention to the team leader. The blond was still conscious as the medics worked on him. They placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose as his cough intensified. He watched as a young female Paramedic took his left arm and began inserting an IV line. He could see Larabee's eyes were trained on his injured friend.

The pain washed over him in red waves and through the mist, he saw medical personnel. There were others... Josiah? Nate? His hopes lifted, then the strangers came back, circling. Where was Salerno? He saw Vin's bloodied body and his eyes locked onto the fallen man. Chris couldn't turn away from the terrifying scene beside him. Vin Tanner seemed to be dying before his eyes. He tried again to reach out and touch his friend but found his hand clasped tightly. He turned a vicious glare on the young woman, angry that she would not let him go.

"Chris, lie still!" Jackson ordered as he knelt beside the blond.

"N...Nathan... V...Vin n...needs help," he cried breathlessly.

"He's getting it, Chris! Now just be still and let the Paramedics help you!" Jackson ordered. The medic turned back to the other team working on Tanner. He breathed a sigh of relief as they got the IV in. He listened as one man read off the vitals, relieved when he heard the blood pressure now read 84/50.

"Run it wide open, Braeden," Jack ordered as his partner finished securing the IV. He stood up and raised the stretcher. "Let's get him out of here!"

"N...Nathan go w...with him!" Larabee's weak voice ordered. "P...please."

The voice was filled with fear and tension. Jackson knew the blond wouldn't rest unless he knew someone was with the sharpshooter. He nodded to the blond, turned to the other men and hurried after the first stretcher.

"Chris, we need you to calm down and take deep breaths," the female paramedic ordered.

"C...can't," Larabee told her and she could see the truth of his words in his eyes.

"We're gonna finish immobilizing your arm and get you to the hospital. Just relax and let us look after you," she ordered.

"Hey, Pard, Vin's gonna be just fine," Wilmington tried to assure his friend. The ladies' man recognized the look in the green eyes. He'd seen it only once before. Another time where Chris Larabee suffered from a tremendous loss, the death of his wife and son. He knew that was what his friend was feeling now. He could tell Chris was thinking he was about to lose a member of his new family. A man who'd helped him through the loss of his first one. He watched as the long lashes slowly closed down over the tired eyes. He shivered as he saw the fleeting image in his mind. He knew if Tanner died there would be no one who could console the injured man. Oh, he'd try, but he didn't know if he had the same type of friendship the team leader and the sharpshooter shared. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the ex-preacher.

"They'll both make it, Brother."

"Thanks, Josiah," Buck muttered as they followed the second stretcher towards the exit. He smiled thinly as he felt JD, Ezra and Josiah close ranks around him. They knew how close he was to the departing men and they were there as more than support. They were family and families stuck together.

"Get him into Trauma One!" Stacey Midland shouted as the stretcher bearing the body of Vin Tanner was pushed through the emergency room doors. "Sandy, tell Dr. Frost I need him in trauma one."

"Yes, Dr. Midland!" the nurse shouted above the madhouse the Emergency Department had become since the explosion at Rimrock Mall. She rushed to the nurse's desk and put in the call for the orthopaedic surgeon. As she talked she looked around at the many stretcher bearing victims in need of medical attention. They were being tended to in order of need rather than arrival. She could see some patients were still in pain, most had IV's attached to their arms or hands, some were being given oxygen because of smoke inhalation. As a nurse with fifteen years experience these were the times she hated most. People were left to suffer because they were taking care of the critically injured first. She knew the waiting room was full, not an empty chair to be found. The last time she'd checked people were sitting on the floor, some holding each other. Most just looked dazed, as if they didn't understand what happened to them. She shook her head and forced the images from her mind. It was almost seven thirty, seven hours since they'd been called and told of the explosion. Sorrow filled her heart, but she forced it away and returned to the job at hand. For that's what it was at the moment, a job, her job, something she did extremely well. The tears would come later when she was wrapped in her husband's arms.

Sandy hurried to the room where Stacey Midland disappeared with Vin Tanner. She pushed open the door and watched as the young man received the treatment that would hopefully save his life. Extensive bruising covered much of his chest, cuts and scratches were abundantly clear over most of his body. The trauma team was working in perfect synchronization. "Dr. Frost is on his way," she told Midland.

"Thanks, Sandy," the female doctor said "Tell his friends I'll see them when we're finished the preliminary examinations. I want a complete X-ray series. Call CT and tell them I want a scan of his head. It looks like he took a severe blow. Call the blood bank and have them send up 4 units of packed cells," she ordered as a nurse took blood samples from the injured man.

"They're not here yet, Doctor, but I'll let them know," Sandy assured her as she left the room.

"What are his vitals?" the worried doctor asked as she continued checking one of her most frequent patients.

"BP is 80 over 50, rapid heartbeat at 120, temperature is 96," a nurse snapped off the readings as she checked the IV flow.

Stacey Midland watched as the nurses cleaned the wound above Tanner's right ear. She knew the young man would be suffering from a concussion when he woke up. The signs were all there. She lifted his left eyelid and noted the reactions of his pupils were sluggish. She checked to make sure the tube down his throat was properly inserted, even though she had confidence in the paramedics. She expertly connected the ventilator to the tube in his throat and watched as the machine breathed for her patient.

The doctor turned to watch Dr. Carl Marcus expertly inserted a chest tube in the patient's left side. The woman doctor was worried that Tanner hadn't moved since being brought in and she hoped Chris Larabee or one of his other friends would soon arrive. She briefly wondered why Larabee didn't ride in with Tanner. She looked up as the technician from X-ray came into the room with the portable unit.

"Full series!" she shouted as she moved around the other medical professionals working to save the young man's life.

"Yes, Doctor!" the tech agreed as she moved into the spot vacated by two of the nurses. The battered form lay silent and naked on the bed as she moved the machine into position. She waited for everyone to leave the room before she set up for the X-rays.

Stacey stood at the desk with David Frost. The man looked as tired as she felt, yet she knew there was much more to be done to save the lives of the people injured in the mall explosion.

"We'll see what the X-rays tell us before I make any decisions about Tanner's leg..." his voice trailed off as another stretcher was wheeled through the doors.

Midland looked to the stretcher and knew immediately who it was. She now understood why Larabee didn't ride in with Tanner. She hurried to the stretcher and smiled at the green eyes looking out over the oxygen mask. "Pamela," she called as she noted the immobilized right arm and the bruises on the left side of the blond's chest. "Do we have a room?"

"Trauma Three should be available. Just give me a second to make sure," the petite redhead called.

"V...Vin?"

Midland looked back down at one of her frequent patients. She could tell he was having difficulty breathing and was probably sporting broken ribs. "We're treating him now," she answered.

"H...he o...okay?" Larabee labored to get the words out, fear and worry in his dazed green eyes.

"We're doing X-rays, CT scan and blood work on him right now, Chris."

"We're ready for him, Doctor!" Pamela called from Trauma three. "Dr. Carter and his team have been notified and are on their way!"

"Chris we're gonna move you into a treatment room now. Just relax for a minute and we'll get you something for pain," Midland told him as they pushed the stretcher towards the trauma room.

"N...need t...to m...make sure V...Vin's o...o...okay," he gasped through the pain.

"We'll take care of both of you, Chris."

"Dr. Midland, we need you!" a nurse called from the room housing Vin Tanner.

"V...Vin!" Larabee's panicked voice hissed. "P...please, Doc, h...help h...him!"

"I will, Chris," she assured the blond, not questioning how he knew Tanner was in this particular room. She'd known these men since Tanner saved Larabee's life and knew from experience the two had some kind of connection.

Chris couldn't take his eyes from the room the doctor disappeared into. Despite the pain running through his own body he couldn't get past the last vision he had of Vin Tanner. The tube being run down his throat by the paramedics and the voice that called, He's shutting down!

Two orderlies pushed his gurney towards trauma room three. He tried to take deep breaths, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult to draw air into his lungs. He coughed harshly and tried to suppress the cry of pain that tore from his raw throat. He clenched his eyes tightly as they moved him from the narrow gurney onto a bed.

"Easy, Mr. Larabee, the doctor is on his way," Pamela consoled the injured man.

"C...can't b...bre...breath," Larabee hissed painfully.

The door swung open and an older man and two women came into the room. The man stepped up to the bed and immediately began speaking, examining the injured man as his team went to work. He lifted the lid from the right eye and quickly moved to the left. He could hear the panic in the victim's breathing. "What's your name?" he asked.

"C...C...Chris," the name seemed to be dragged from the man.

"Well, Chris, I'm Mike Carter and we're gonna get you fixed right up," he turned his attention to the heavy bruising on the patient's left side as his shirt was cut from his body. He felt around the area and listened carefully to his lungs. He put his hands on the bed and met the pained gaze. "Chris, you've got a couple of broken ribs, one of which has punctured your lung. I'm gonna insert a chest tube and it should help you breathe easier. Alright?"

"O...Okay."

"I'm going to have Pamela give you some morphine for the pain. Terry, get portable X-ray in here. I want a full chest and skull series. Chris, just relax for a couple of minutes," the doctor watched as his team inserted a second IV in Larabee's arm. Another nurse hurried to the phone and put in a call to X-ray. A third was busy setting up for the insertion of the tube in his patient's chest. He looked down at his patient's face as Chris erupted in a harsh series of coughs and black spittle escaped from his mouth to stain the oxygen mask he wore. "It looks like he's inhaled a lot of smoke. We'll have to keep an eye on that." He watched as Pamela loaded a syringe with morphine and quickly injected it into the IV juncture in the newly inserted IV.

Stacey Midland knew the patient before her was in trouble. "What's happened?" she asked as the X-ray tech left.

Dr. Marcus continued his initial exam as he talked with her. "It looks like he's blown a pupil. I've ordered 200mls Mannitol 20%" Marcus answered quickly, "I've ordered a CT of his head. We're getting him ready to bring down there now."

"Good move," Midland said. Even as the doctor spoke, portable equipment was being readied and the moved the bed away from the wall and hurried out through the door.

"I got them," Stacey, said as she noted five bedraggled dirt covered men rush through the emergency room doors.

"Vin!" Buck cried and hurried towards him, a soft hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. "Doc? Vin? What's wrong with him?" he asked, terrified by all the equipment he saw and the obvious haste the team was in.

"We're taking him down for a CT scan, Buck. Why don't you guys follow me to the waiting room. We'll talk there."

"Chris?" Jackson asked.

"He's in with Dr. Carter right now. If you boys will go to the waiting room I'll see what I can find out for you," Midland explained.

"You heard her, Brothers. Let's go," Sanchez ordered as the doctor headed for trauma three.

Stacey opened the door just in time to see Dr. Carter inserting a needle in Larabee's side. She knew he was freezing the area and realized the blond had probably punctured a lung and was in need of a chest tube. She stepped up to the bed and met the tired green eyes.

"V...Vin," Larabee asked weakly.

"He's okay, Chris," she told him, not wanting to cause him any more worry until she knew for sure what was going on with Vin Tanner. "Now you just lie there and let Dr. Carter take care of you."

"O...okay," Larabee mumbled as he closed his eyes and concentrated on dragging enough air into his lungs.

"How is he, Mike?" she asked softly.

"Punctured lung, broken ribs, that cut over his eyes is gonna need sutures. I'm not sure about his arm yet. X-ray is on the way," as he spoke the words the door opened and a tech entered with the portable equipment. He looked at the tech speaking directly to her. "Give me a couple of minutes to get the tube secured in his chest. Make sure you do a full series."

"Yes, Doctor," she assured him.

Stacey looked at the blond's face and was surprised to see the green eyes open once more. "Chris, why don't you try to sleep."

"H...head h...hurts," he gasped as his stomach threatened to empty.

"You've probably got a mild concussion, Chris," Carter explained. "The morphine should help. Okay, I'm ready to insert the tube. Just relax for a few minutes and we'll be done."

"I'm going to let his men know how they're doing. Chris, I'll be back to check on you shortly."

"O...okay," Larabee answered without opening his eyes. He coughed and groaned, but was held still while the doctor performed the procedure. He felt the drug take effect and slowly gave into the pull of exhaustion.

"I'll talk with you shortly, Mike," Stacey said as she hurried from the room and walked towards the waiting room. She smiled as five men stood up and abruptly moved towards her. "Sit down, Gentlemen, you look like you're all in need of a comfortable bed and a good night's sleep."

"Any word, Dr. Midland?" Standish asked.

"Vin should be back shortly. Dr. Carter is just inserting a tube in Chris's chest to help him breath easier. X-ray is in there now and as soon as Mike is finished they'll do a full series."

"What about his arm?" Jackson asked.

"Probably broken, but we won't know for sure until the X-rays are done. He's got some broken ribs and a mild concussion. We'll know more when we've got the test results. I have a few other patients to see and will let you know as soon as the results are in. It'll be a while yet, so why don't you get something to eat," she knew her words fell on deaf ears. Neither man would move until they knew what was happening with their friends.

Stacey Midland opened the door to Trauma one. She moved into the room and stood next to Dr. Marcus and Dr. Frost as they read the results of the blood work and CT scan. "What have we got?" she asked.

"Looks like a subdural bleed in the right temporal area. We're getting him ready for surgery now," Marcus explained.

"What about his leg?"

"Looks like a hairline fracture. He probably didn't even notice it at first but with him using the leg it probably aggravated it even more. I've also started him on antibiotics to fight the infection in his leg," Frost explained.

"We're all set, Doctor," the nurse said as she disconnected the last of the machines.

"Alright, let's get moving," Marcus ordered.

They pushed the bed through the door and once more saw five men standing beside it as they pushed the bed out into the still cluttered emergency section of the hospital.

Stacey moved to the five men as Tanner was wheeled towards the elevators.

"How is he, Doc?" Sanchez asked.

"He's critical, Josiah. They're taking him to surgery to relieve some of the pressure on his brain. The CT scan revealed a slow bleeder which Vin was unaware of. It continued to bleed, but he was still able to move around. They'll evacuate the clot in the OR and we'll watch him post op."

"He'll be okay though won't he, Doc?" Dunne asked.

"I think so, JD. He's got two of the finest doctors around working no him."

"Three of the finest, Doc," Jackson told her and smiled at the slight blush on the woman's face.

"Thank you, Nathan," she said tiredly.

"Anything new on Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"I'm just going to see him now. The test results and X-rays should be back. I'll check with Dr. Carter and get back to you. Have you guys eaten anything yet?" She knew by the downcast eyes they hadn't and shook her head as she walked towards Trauma Three. She noted there were less stretchers than earlier and only a couple of people remained in the waiting room area. She looked at the large clock over the nurse's desk and noted the time was eight-fifteen. Almost eight hours since the explosion that caused so many deaths and so many injured. She sighed and rotated her shoulders as she pushed the door open.

A nurse stood beside the bed, her eyes checking the readouts on the monitors above Larabee's head. She looked towards the door as it opened and smiled at the female doctor.

"How is he?" Midland asked, noting the wound over his eye was already sutured.

"He's resting right now. His breathing is better since Dr. Carter put the tube in."

"Has he seen the results of the X-rays yet?"

"Yes, Doctor. He just went to check on another patient. Here he comes now," she answered as Mike Carter entered the room.

"Stacey."

"Mike, have you got the results?"

"Yeah. Hi, Chris, how are you feeling?" Mike asked as he looked into dazed green eyes.

"B...better," the soft voice answered.

"That's good, Chris. I've just been looking at your X-rays and I'm afraid we're gonna have to immobilize your arm. You've got a fractured Clavicle, that's your collarbone and you've also fractured the scapula. That's the bone in your back here," he said indicating the one just behind the shoulder. "I'll have Pamela give you two mgs of Morphine. It'll help a little with the pain, but you're suffering from a concussion and I can't chance any more than that right now. Okay?"

"N...not much choice," Larabee hissed as he tried to get comfortable. He turned his head towards Midland and asked, "how's Vin?"

She knew she couldn't lie to the intense green eyes staring at her with such trust. She took a deep breath and answered as Pamela administered the morphine. "He's on his way to the OR right now, Chris."

"W...why? What's wrong?" the blond asked, trying desperately to sit up in the bed.

"Lie still, Chris," Carter ordered.

"Doc... P...please... V...Vin," the injured man tried to speak but was overcome with nausea and pain. A basin was placed in front of him and his stomach emptied. He cried out as he finally eased back on the pillow.

"Chris, Vin had a few problems, but they'll be taken care of in surgery," Midland assured him.

"Alright, Chris, let's get this done. Just try and keep still," Carter said as they removed the temporary wrap from his arm.

Larabee tried to remain still as they removed the splint from his arm. He grimaced as Stacey Midland held his right arm steady and the nurse helped him sit forward.

"Almost done, Chris," Mike said as he wrapped the thick black belt around Larabee's body. He ignored the small grunts of pain emanating from the man as he positioned the arm and wrapped the Velcro straps around it to keep it in place. It took nearly five minutes to get the arm positioned properly. By the time he finished the blond head was soaked in sweat and his breath was coming in hitching gasps. "That's it, Chris. We're all done."

"Thank Christ," Larabee hissed weakly as he lost consciousness.

"How is he doing?" Marcus asked as the anaesthetist finished prepping the patient for surgery. The X-rays showed the blood Tanner was coughing up was due to the damage done to his lungs. He knew the young man was lucky it wasn't anything more serious and should heal on its own.

"We're all set, Carl," Gleason answered as soon as he finished checking the monitors.

Marcus moved closer to the bed and examined the site where he would make the surgical incision to evacuate the clot. The area was already shaved in preparation for the operation. The long strands of hair would grow back, but for now they needed to keep the area clean. He looked around at the surgical team, recognizing each member and knowing he was working with the best. Taking a deep breath he lifted the first of many instruments and tuned out all thoughts except for those he need to save the man's life. He knew once he was finished David Frost would move in and take care of the wound in Tanner's leg. He made the incision using the cauterizer, as a doctor with nearly fifteen years experience behind him he couldn't get used to the smell caused by the instrument in his hands. It didn't bother him, never made him queasy, but he hated it nonetheless. He looked up as a nurse hung the second pint of blood and knew they'd probably need a couple of more units before the operation was completed.

After 30 minutes of precise dissection the offending clot was revealed to the surgeon. Marcus carefully removed the old blood and cauterized the small bleeder that he found. He breathed a sigh of relief as he examined the surgical site and found no sign of further bleeding.

"How is he?" he asked as he continued to work on the patient.

"He's doing very well right now, Carl." Gleason answered.

"Alright, David, looks like you're up," Marcus said as he moved away from the patient. He watched as the resident took over his position and knew the man was closing up the site of the incision. He watched as his colleague wired the bone back in place before he could close up the skin.

David Frost moved in and carefully examined the wound in Tanner's thigh. He knew he needed to clean the area and make sure there was no underlying infection. He slowly and methodically cleaned the area before debriding the tissue surrounding the injury. He ignored the blood on his hands in much the same way Marcus had done earlier. He continued to work on the patient, intent on making sure the job was done right the first time around. He heard the anaesthetist calling out vitals and knew the young man was doing much better than any of them thought possible. He finished the wound and sutured it closed just as the nurse hung the final unit of blood.

Frost stood back as the instruments were moved out of the way. His eyes shot to the monitors as an alarm sounded.

Gleason could read the monitors and was worried by what he saw. Blood pressure was 76/40, heart rate 140, Oxygen saturation was at 90 and dropping. "I'm having trouble ventilating!" he snapped as he turned the oxygen to 100 percent. "Get rid of that unit of blood!" Gleason called. Marcus moved back in and pulled back the sterile sheet. A rash seemed to form before their eyes and they knew it was a reaction to the blood the nurse had just removed and not a pulmonary embolus.

"I'm pushing one mg Epinephrine IV and 25 mgs of Benadryl!" Marcus called as they worked over the patient. Next he added Ventolin and Atrovent to the ventilator and turned to the monitors once more.

"Come on, Tanner! Don't you dare give up on us now!" Marcus swore as he watched the readings on the monitors. He prayed the quick and precise reactions to the emergency would be enough to bring Tanner back to them.

Nathan Jackson watched as Wilmington marched up and down the short distance between the ICU waiting room chairs. How the moustached man could make the short journey look like he was running a marathon Jackson didn't know. He knew it was nerves, something they all were suffering from while they waited for word on Vin Tanner. The young man was still in surgery and very little was known about his condition. The medic knew it couldn't be good as each long minute turned into an hour. Each hour seemed to stretch out until their nerves were on edge, and their minds conjured up images of Tanner's bruised and unconscious body. He stood up and moved to stand in front of the ladies' man.

"Buck, sit down and take it easy. You're not doing anyone any good wearing a groove in the floor," Jackson observed.

Wilmington shook his head, trying desperately not to show just how worried he was. "I'm sorry, Nate. It's just I'm..."

"We're all worried, Buck, but until we get real news it's a case of no news being goods news," the medic explained. He looked around the room, trying unsuccessfully to instill a sense of calm to the others. He knew he failed when he was unable to keep the tremor from his own words.

"You're not fooling anyone, Nate," the scoundrel said, a weak smile on his face as he sank heavily into the chair next to JD Dunne.

Jackson's eyes met the ex-preacher and knew the older man could see right through him. He smiled and walked to the door. "I'm gonna go check on Chris," he said as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

The medic hurried towards the desk and waited for the duty nurse to finish her phone conversation.

Anna Lowry hung up the phone and looked into the worried face standing before her. She knew his name from the frequent trips these men made to the hospital. "Can I help you, Nathan?" she asked, her soft voice full of sympathy for the plight they were going through.

"Has Chris been moved into the unit yet?" he asked the petite young woman. Her bronze skin and dark eyes gave her an exotic beauty and Nathan knew if it wasn't for his feelings for Rain he would've asked her out long ago.

Anna smiled at the handsome man. "Let me check for you," she told him. She opened her charts and went through the listing. "He's just being settled in. Dr. Midland is with him. Give them another fifteen minutes and you can go see him. He's in ICU four ten. Just make sure there's only two of you in there at a time," she told him.

"Thanks, Anna," the medic said softly.

"Is there something else, Nathan?" she asked.

"I was wondering if there's been any word on Vin Tanner," he stated.

"Hang on and I'll check," she told him. She lifted the phone and called the surgical ward. The phone was answered immediately and she asked about the young sharpshooter.

Jackson listened to the one sided conversation and waited for her to tell him the answer to his question. Finally she dropped the receiver back in its cradle and looked up at him.

"He's still in surgery."

Jackson looked up at the clock, worried that almost five hours had passed since Tanner was rushed into emergency surgery. He shook his head, forcing the worry to the back of his mind. There's no point in worrying until you know there's something to worry about, he thought. He thanked the nurse and turned back towards the waiting room.

Four sets of eyes looked up as Jackson entered the quiet room. It still amazed him that a normally rambunctious group of men could be so quiet you could almost hear their thoughts.

"Any word, Brother?" Sanchez asked.

"Chris is being settled in ICU," Jackson informed them. "Before you ask, Buck, we can see him as soon as he's settled."

"Thanks, Nathan," Wilmington said, a sheepish smile on his pale face.

"What about our other downed comrade?" Standish voiced the question on all their minds.

"He's still in surgery," the medic answered softly.

"Dammit!" Buck swore as he stood up and resumed pacing the narrow confines of the room. He stopped in front of the closed door and placed a trembling hand on the handle. "I'm going to see Chris," he told them, knowing no one would argue his right to visit his long time friend. He pulled the heavy fire door open and hurried into the hall.

"It might be prudent if you escorted Mr. Wilmington, Mr. Jackson. We all know how he'll react when he sees our injured leader," the gambler explained.

"Go ahead, Brother, we'll be here when you have news," Sanchez assured him.

Jackson nodded once and hurried after the ladies' man. "Buck, wait!"

Wilmington stopped as he heard the familiar voice calling his name. He didn't turn around, just stood stock still and waited for the medic to catch up with him. Neither man spoke as they walked down the brightly lit corridor towards the ICU. The green line on the floor marked the way, yet neither man needed it, they knew exactly where they were going.

As they neared the ICU they could see Midland and another doctor working with the nurses to get Larabee settled into the bed. They watched as monitors were hooked up and IV lines were checked. Neither man spoke as they saw a nurse place an oxygen mask over Larabee's mouth and nose. They leaned heavily against the wall and watched the activity in the unit. Four beds were available in this unit and three were occupied. They knew the forth bed would soon be occupied by Vin Tanner. They watched as the unfamiliar doctor left the room. At a signal from Stacey Midland, the two men walked into the open area and up to the bed housing their friend.

"How is he, Doc?" Wilmington asked.

"He's sleeping right now, Buck," she knew this wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but she wanted the men to know Larabee was sleeping and not unconscious or in a coma. She took a deep breath before continuing. "You know about his ribs and the punctured lung. He's also fractured the clavicle and scapula and we've immobilized his arm. He's suffering from a mild concussion and we sutured the laceration over his eye. We've got him on oxygen and he'll be seen by a respiratory specialist later this morning."

"Why?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"He inhaled a lot of smoke, Buck. We need to get his lungs clear and that involves getting him to cough up the black smoke coating his lungs. We're starting him on Ventolin and Atrovent to help him." A soft moan from the bed brought all eyes to the patient. Midland quickly moved to the head of the bed and spoke softly to the injured man. "Chris, can you hear me?"

Larabee forced tired eyes open and waited for them to focus on the three blurry forms beside his bed. He knew he was hurt, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why or how. He felt the cool mist entering his lungs and wondered why each breath burned on the way down. His eyes finally cleared, but his ears didn't seem to be working properly. He frowned as he watched the woman beside the bed, wondering why her voice barely filtered through to his mind. The ringing seemed to subside as he shook off the last remnants of sleep. His eyes grew wide with fear and worry as suppressed memories returned. He cried out as he remembered the almost lifeless body he cradled in his arms. Visions of two separate explosions assaulted his mind and became one. He was unable to distinguish one from the other as two faces seemed to melt into one. He clenched his eyes tightly as Gardener's features blended into the arsonist who'd almost killed them a few months before. "Salerno!" he gasped as the two sets of memories grew together in his confused mind. "B...Buck, bastards g...gonna kill V...Vin!" he said breathlessly.

Wilmington moved into Larabee's view and spoke softly. "Hey, Pard, Vin's gonna be just fine," he soothed the injured man.

"N...no, Buck, S... Salerno," the blond insisted.

"We took Salerno down months ago, Chris. He can't hurt anyone anymore," he clasped the left hand in an effort to assure his long time friend.

"Chris," Midland spoke to her patient, hoping to calm the man down before he caused any more damage to his already battered body. "Vin is going to be fine and so are you. Now just calm down and concentrate on breathing."

Larabee coughed into the mask and groaned loudly as his body trembled on the bed. He fought to control the urge, ignoring the voices speaking to him as he labored to breathe.

"Don't fight it, Chris!" Jackson ordered. "The coughing will help clear your lungs."

Wilmington looked into the green eyes as they opened and focused on him once more. He could see the underlying panic as the injured man tried to control his bodies trembling. The pain was evident on the handsome face and he wished there was something he could do to take it away. "Come on, Chris, you need to get all that crud up."

"H...hu...hurts, B...Buck..."

"I bet it does, but ya gotta do it." he held onto his friend's hand as the man finally gave into the urge to cough. By the time the spurt was over tears ran down his own cheeks, matching the ones falling from Larabee's eyes. He looked away from the green gaze and met the pained look in the soft brown eyes belonging to the medic.

"Chris, you did very well," Midland explained as she patted his left shoulder. "Now I want you to try and go back to sleep."

"C...can't."

"Why not, Chris?" Jackson asked.

"N...need to k...know Vin's okay. N...need to s...see him," Larabee's words were slurred by pain.

"Vin's fine," Wilmington assured his friend, praying that he wasn't lying even as the words left his mouth.

Larabee wanted so much to believe the ladies' man. He wanted and needed to see for himself that his best friend really was fine. As he slipped slowly towards sleep three words echoed and re-echoed in his troubled mind. 'He's shutting down!' "D... don't s...shut d...down, Tanner," he pleaded softly.

"What did he say?" Wilmington asked.

"Something about shutting down," Jackson shook his head, unsure of what the blond was trying to say. He turned to Midland and asked, "how is he, Doc?"

"He's sleeping right now, Nathan. Why don't you two go back to the waiting room. The nurse's need to finish up with Chris."

"I want to stay with him," the moustached man told her.

"You can come back in half an hour, Buck. Right now we want to make sure Chris is comfortable," the female doctor explained.

"Come on, Buck, we can tell the others how things are with Chris," Jackson took Wilmington's elbow and eased him away from the bed.

Midland watched as the two men left the unit. She knew how much this team meant to each other and prayed Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee would rejoin the group before long. She turned back to her patient and checked to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Midland looked towards the clock over the unit's door Almost five am and she was exhausted. She'd managed to grab a couple of hours in the doctor's lounge, but it wasn't nearly enough to ease the ache residing deep in her overtaxed body. She knew the doctors and nurses she worked with were feeling the same way she was. The grim catastrophe that struck the city the day before was taking a toll on everyone. She looked at the two patients occupying the beds on either side of Chris Larabee. Both men were improving and would be moved to regular rooms within the next twelve hours. They were among the lucky ones who survived to receive treatment for their injuries. Thirty eight people were not so lucky, most died under the destruction and chaos of the explosion. The woman doctor slowly shook off the morbid thoughts, knowing she'd need her wits about her when they brought down the missing Firm member.

She looked towards the entrance as Vin Tanner was wheeled into the room. The young man would be on a ventilator for the next three or four days. His injuries were treated and he would survive. Between the smoke inhalation and the negative response to the blood transfusion he needed to be kept ventilated and under constant care. She looked at Chris Larabee, glad to see the man was still sleeping. She didn't want to see his reaction to the myriad of equipment surrounding his friend.

Stacey moved towards the empty bed and helped the orderlies move the still form onto the more comfortable bed. They arranged the equipment around Vin Tanner and made sure it was running correctly. A nurse moved in and began checking the tubes and vital signs as Midland, Marcus and Frost watched the readouts above his head. The final point of blood had been given and Tanner seemed to be reacting positively to the treatment he received.

"How is he?" Midland asked.

Marcus looked at his colleague before speaking. He knew Frost would add any information if he forgot something. "He should be fine now. We'll need to monitor him closely. Not just because of the head injury, but also because of the blood transfusion. We've sent samples of his blood along with the affected unit to the lab for testing. I've left orders that he receive Benadryl for the next twenty four hours."

"D...doc?"

Midland hurried to the bed where Chris Larabee lay. His head was turned slightly and she knew he was watching the nurses working on the patient in the bed next to him. "He's gonna be alright, Chris," she assured the blond. She watched the pained expression no the man's face and knew it was not his own. He was familiar with the ICU and most of the equipment and would know his friend was in critical condition. He wouldn't care about his own health until he knew Tanner was going to pull through. She smiled inwardly at the rare friendship these two men shared. No matter how many times one of them ended up in the unit the other would be found hovering close by. She knew the five men in the waiting room were also close, yet they did not seem to have the same type of connection.

"W...wrong w...with him?" Larabee asked, his voice garbled through the mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Dr. Marcus drained a clot and Dr. Frost cleaned up the laceration on his leg. He's going to be fine, Chris."

"W...why v...ven...tilator?" the blond asked.

"He's having a little trouble breathing on his own. You've both inhaled a lot of smoke and it's causing your lungs to have to work harder to take in enough air. In Vin's case he needs a little help to keep him breathing properly."

"G...gonna make it?" he asked, his eyes conveying the fear he felt at the thought of possibly losing his best friend.

Midland smiled at the blond and flicked back the stray lock of blond hair. "He's gonna be just fine, Chris and so will you as long as you both do as your told. Why don't you close your eyes and try to sleep." She watched as the green eyes slid closed and noted the grimace of pain on his face. The morphine he was being given was just enough to take the edge off, but she knew it was doing little to help him. There wasn't a whole lot they could do about it right now because of the head injury and the smoke inhalation. She turned away from the patient and walked back to where Tanner was being settled in. Marcus and Frost were gone now and she was alone with the two men and the nurse looking after them. She looked to the door to see five men standing in the opening. She walked towards them, and forced a tired smile to her face.

"I thought I told you guys to go home and get some rest?" she asked. The smile grew larger as she saw the downcast eyes of five men who couldn't meet her gaze.

Buck found his voice first and asked, "How are they doing?"

"Chris is doing the same as he was an hour ago," she explained. "Vin is going to be okay."

"Why did the surgery take so long, Doc?" Jackson asked, knowing in his heart there had to be some kind of complications.

"Vin had a severe reaction to a blood transfusion."

Jackson's eyes shot up and he looked over her shoulder at the pale form hooked up to the ventilator. "What kind of reaction?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the sharpshooter's body.

"It wasn't a Haemolytic reaction, Nathan," she said, knowing the medic would know what she was talking about. His knowledge had grown over the years and she knew he studied medicines. She wondered why he never went to medical school, from what she could see he'd be a natural.

"Let's be thankful of that!" the medic exclaimed.

"Why's that?" Dunne asked.

"Because if it was a Haemolytic reaction we'd be following it up with a trip to the morgue," Midland explained tiredly. "Look, there was a problem with the unit of packed cells and he was treated in the OR for it. They sent the blood and a sample of Vin's blood to the lab for further testing."

"How the hell could you people let this happen?"

"Buck," Jackson interrupted. "Calm down! With everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours we should be grateful they are alive at all. I'm sure the blood bank was working overtime to keep up with the supply and demand for blood. This doesn't happen very often and thank God the doctors and nurses usually catch it in time."

"Sorry, Doc," Wilmington apologized sheepishly.

"Accepted," Midland assured him. "Now you boys can stay for a couple of minutes and then I want you gone. Chris and Vin need their rest and from the looks of things you do too."

"Dr. Midland, might I suggest that you look like you are in need of a little slumber of your own?" Standish smiled as he said the words.

"Ezra, I'm going to sign out and go home and get some slumber. You boys just make sure you do the same," she ordered as she left the men alone.

Buck and Nathan moved to the bed holding Vin Tanner.

The tube running down the young man's throat caused a shudder to run through the ladies' man's body. He hated the idea of the usually energetic sharpshooter being at the mercy of a machine to keep him alive. The full length cast on his right leg reminded him the younger man would be hopping around once he was out of the hospital. He smiled as he thought of the fight Nathan would have with Tanner. The last time he needed the dreaded crutches they'd found him hopping around without them and Jackson threatened to have them glued to his arms. The various tubes running into his body drove home the serious nature of his injuries. "Shit, Vin, chest tubes, broken ribs! What're you trying to do? Between you and Chris I'm gettin' too old for this shit. Yeah, I know I watched Lethal Weapon too many times, but ol' Roger knew what he was talking about. He was lucky it was only Riggs he had as a partner. Me? I get stuck with you and Chris and between you I've got more gray hair than black. Hell, Vin, you gotta make it. We got a party to go to," he said, swiping at the lock of unruly curls. He shook his head as he saw the shaved area, knowing how proud the young man was about his hair.

"They'll both be fine, Buck," Jackson assured the solemn ladies' man.

"I know they will be, Nate. We need the two of 'em here with us where they belong," he looked towards the other bed and saw Sanchez, Standish and Dunne talking quietly among themselves. He moved towards the door as a lump rose up in his throat and threatened to cut off his air supply. He stood beside the entrance watching the two injured men as he waited for the others to say what was on their minds. Four men joined him in the hallway and slowly made their way towards the bank of elevators.

The next two days passed in a haze of pain and worry for Chris Larabee. He'd wake up to find someone giving him medication and placing ice chips in his mouth. He'd struggle through a bout of coughing until his chest and shoulder throbbed painfully. The pain medication they were giving him was doing little to help and for once he was glad Vin Tanner was not awake to feel his own pain. He turned his head to the side and watched as the lean chest rose and fell in rhythm with the machine forcing air into his lungs. He sighed heavily, realizing every waking moment was spent watching his friend. The blond prayed the sharpshooter would soon be strong enough to be taken off the ventilator.

Chris turned his head as the nurse came towards him. He knew she was bringing the Ventolin and Atrovent for him to inhale. He hated the effect they had on his body, yet he knew it was important to get the stuff out of his lungs. Midland explained that without it he was very apt to come down with pneumonia and he knew from experience he didn't want that. They were already thumping him on the back to loosen the crud and he knew Tanner would suffer the same thing once he was allowed to wake up.

"Chris, it's time for your medications."

Larabee sighed and waited for the inevitable. He smiled as JD Dunne and Josiah Sanchez entered the ICU. Josiah stood beside his bed and waited for the nurse to finish the treatments. Chris nodded his thanks as the first round of coughing came over him. He felt the ex-preacher's strength in his gaze and knew the older man was telling him he wasn't alone. That he never had been and never would be. The blond smiled and turned his head to watch the two youngest members of The Firm. One, standing tall and trying not to show his emotions, the other silent and still, breathing with the help of a machine. He felt Sanchez touch his left shoulder and acknowledge the act of friendship. He closed his eyes and began to drift towards sleep once more.

JD moved to the sharpshooter's bed and sighed heavily. No matter how many times he visited one of his friends in the hospital he didn't get used to it. Buck kept telling him he never would because to do so would be lose an integral part of oneself. He knew Vin wasn't much older than he was, yet the sharpshooter had seen and done more in his short life than JD could imagine. Swallowing the lump forming in his throat he forced words from his mouth. "Hey, Vin, Buck's making arrangements to have a belated Saint Patrick's Day party at Buck's Bar. Now you know we can't do that until you and Chris are up and around. Dr. Midland told us they'll be letting you wake up and weaning you off the ventilator tomorrow. She says Chris will go to a regular room in the morning and maybe you can be moved in with him the next day." JD knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop himself. He reached out and touched the pale cheek, hoping to get some sense that the tracker was still with them. He turned away from his friend and sent a silent prayer that they'd all be celebrating Saint Patrick's day before long.

"Chris?"

Larabee opened his eyes and looked into Stacey Midland's warm face. "Doc?" he mumbled tiredly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she checked the IV flow in his arm.

"I'm fine, Doc," he said as he tried to struggle upwards in the bed. The pain of broken ribs and the agony in his shoulder belied his words.

"Sure you are," she laughed. "We're gonna be moving you into a double room in a few minutes. I don't want you trying to help in any way. It's important that we keep the pressure off you shoulder and ribs."

Larabee nodded and asked, "Vin?"

"We've slowed down on the sedatives and he should be waking up shortly."

"I want to be here," the blond hissed.

"That's out of the question, Chris..."

"But..."

"No buts," Midland interrupted. "Look, Vin won't be alone. Buck and Nathan are gonna be here for him. You need to let someone else care for Vin for a change."

"I...I..."

"You're hurt, Chris," the woman doctor told him. "Just because you're being moved out of ICU doesn't mean you're cured. You've got to let yourself heal. You still have a chest tube and will need to be monitored closely. Now, settle down and we'll see about getting you out of here."

Larabee sighed in defeat. He knew she was right, yet he hated not being there for his best friend. With a heavy heart he turned his head sideways and stared at the man in the next bed. A man who was as close to him as any brother born of the same parents. He felt the his bed being disconnected from the walls and pushed from the room. I'm here, Cowboy! he sent through their silent connection. He sank into the pillows and thought about the circumstances that led them to this point in time. Sighing heavily he turned his head one last time as his bed was pushed out of the room.

N...no, no, he thought he shouted the word but it only echoed silently around in his mind.

"Come on, Vin, It's time to wake up," Jackson repeated. He watched as the younger man's eyes moved swiftly under sealed eyelids.

Tanner felt as if he didn't know his own body. He felt tubes running into his chest, his arms, and knew the uncomfortable sensation he felt below was caused by a catheter invading his most intimate parts. Shit! he swore as awareness crashed into him with the force of a tsunami. Pain slammed into his chest, thigh and head, making it impossible for him to acknowledge the two men standing at his bedside. He struggled to breathe in, but found something lodged in his throat. H...help! he thought as he fought to keep from choking.

"Vin, listen to me! You're in the hospital!," Jackson told him. "Dr. Midland is here and she's going to take that tube out of your throat, but she can't do that until you calm down!"

"Come on, Vin, look at me!" Wilmington ordered sharply, smiling as his harsh voice cut through the panic in the dazed blue eyes. "That's it, Pard! You're gonna be fine."

Buck, he thought and tried to smile around the tube in his mouth. The smile was quickly forgotten as his memory returned and visions of explosions and destruction assaulted his senses. Oh, God, Buck, Chris! he thought. Where is he? Where's Chris?

Midland knew they had to get the young man calmed down and was about to talk to him when Wilmington's voice seemed to calm the troubled man. She smiled as she realized it wasn't the voice, but the words the man said.

"Vin, listen to me! Are you worried about Chris?" The ladies' man watched as the blue eyes blinked twice. He knew this system was one used before when Chris was on a ventilator after they'd been shipwrecked. "Chris is doing fine, Vin. They moved him down to a double room this morning. You'll probably be joining him tomorrow if you let the docs look after you. Understand?"

Chris, okay? he thought as he blinked twice. His heart lurched as he remembered the pain on the blond face just before he passed out.

"Are you ready to get rid of this thing, Vin?" Midland asked, pointing to the tube in his throat. Once more the blue eyes blinked twice in rapid succession. She smiled at her patient and continued with her explanation. "Alright, now you know the drill. Your throat is gonna be pretty sore and raw from the ventilator. I don't want you to try to talk," she ordered as she removed the tape from his mouth.

The sharpshooter tensed as the tape was pulled from his skin. He knew what was coming and knew it wasn't a pleasant sensation. His eyes met the doctor's and she nodded. He breathed out as she extracted the tube, gagging as it made it's way up his throat. As soon as it was out his stomach heaved and whatever was still inside came up in a sickly stream. He sat back against the pillow, breathing heavily as an oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and nose. He knew there were tears in his eyes and didn't try to hide them from the three people watching him. For once in his life he let his defenses down and let the pain wash over his body. His eyes filled with panic as he felt the urge to cough and he knew beyond a doubt it was going to hurt. The first painful gasping cough tore weakly from his lungs and he tried to sit forward. He closed his eyes and prayed for the torment to end. Two sets of hands eased him forward and he cried out weakly.

Buck turned worried eyes towards the doctor and the healer. He hated seeing anyone in pain, especially when it was one of the men he considered his close friends. "Doc?" he asked.

"It's okay, Buck. I know it's painful to watch, but like Chris we need to get his lungs cleared. Believe it or not this is doing him good," Midland smiled at the longhaired man as they eased him back onto his pillows. She reached for the glass of ice chips and lifted the oxygen mask. "Vin," she said and waited for him to open his eyes. "I've got some ice chips here for you. They'll help your throat feel better."

Tanner opened his mouth and took the chips gratefully. He moved them around in his mouth until the tiny pellets melted. The amount of moisture was almost nonexistent but he was grateful for the small respite it gave him. he opened his mouth as she offered him more and repeated the process. He struggled to force words past his tortured throat, but all that came out was a raspy croak. "C...Ch...ris... rea...lly okay?"

"Yes, Vin, Chris is really okay. Now I told you not to try to talk. Give your throat some time to heal," Midland warned. "Now, you're hooked up to a morphine infusion pump. It's not gonna take care of all your pain, but hopefully it'll make it a little more bearable. We can't give you too much because of the collapsed lung and the smoke inhalation."

Vin nodded slowly and lifted his hand towards his head. Strong hands stopped him and he looked at Jackson quizzically.

"You've had surgery, Vin."

"S....surge..." he didn't get to finish as Midland placed a finger in front of his lips.

"No talking," she repeated. "I'll explain everything the next time you wake up," she told him as his eyelids dropped over the glazed blue eyes. She smiled at the two men standing on opposite sides of the bed. "He's doing better than we expected," she assured them.

Wilmington returned her smile and spoke softly. "He's gonna be mad," he said.

"Why?" the doctor asked.

"They cut his locks. That's one of his best attributes. I've heard the ladies comment on his hair and they made him promise never to cut it. You know," he said as he rubbed his moustached mischievously. "I might just be able to help him out."

"Buck, whatever you got planned I want it known that I had nothing to do with it," Jackson complained.

"Hell, Nate, never known you to be a coward. I know who'll help me out," he grinned as he left the room.

"Oh, hell, I don't want to know what he's got planned," the medic said as he sat in the chair next to Tanner's bed.

"I don't know, Nathan. I think I'd like to be around to see what kind of underhanded prank Buck has planned."

"Doc, Vin knows revenge. His and Chris really pulled one over on Buck in front of a crowded bar the last time Buck pulled one of his pranks. This could get ugly real fast," Jackson told her.

The smile on his face told her no one would be hurt, but sparks would fly. She shook her head as she left the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Larabee."

Chris turned his head slightly and smiled weakly at the conman. Standish looked as if he hadn't slept in a week and Chris realized that might be close to the truth. Ezra tried to convey a non-caring attitude but the members of The Firm knew better than that. They knew the gambler's aloofness was more from instinct than anything else. Ezra Standish could bluster with the best, but he couldn't put anything over on his new family.

"Ezra, How's Vin?"

"He's doing very well, Chris. They removed the ventilator and he was awake and lucid." He helped Chris sit forward as a series of harsh coughs erupted from his throat. "I think you and Mr. Tanner are in the same boat," he explained as the blond finally relaxed and sat back against the pillow.

"Shit, Ezra," Larabee hissed. He hated the thought of Vin Tanner coughing up the crud on his chest. He knew Vin's lung collapsed just before their rescue and he knew from experience how uncomfortable the young man was gonna be. He also knew the sharpshooter would be on crutches for a at least four weeks. He looked down at his own immobilized shoulder and realized they'd be in the same boat in another way. He closed his eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning. He hated when the coughing started, knowing he'd be unable to do anything till the urge went away. He opened his eyes once more and looked at the man seated beside his bed. "Help me up."

Standish's eyebrows rose as he looked into the green eyes of the man on the bed. "May I inquire as to where you plan on going?"

"To see Vin," Larabee hissed as he tried to sit forward.

"Have you forgotten about the medical machinery you're hooked up to. The IV would be easy. But the tube running into your chest and connected to that contraption there would prove much too dificult. Much as I would love to have the recepticle of your chest fluid dangling from my grasp, I hesitate to disconnect all that tubing from their origins." The conman tried in vain to hide the grimace of distaste as his gaze rested on the bloody fluid contained within the drainage system hooked up to Larabee's chest tube.

Larabee's eyes narrowed as he glared at the younger man. He looked down at the tube running into his body and snapped. "Dammit, Ezra, I hate it when you're right."

"I assure you, I shall endeavor to be wrong more often, but it will be a full time job. Now, since we can't go visit our enigmatic sharpshooter why don't you eat your lunch. I must say it does look..."

"Healthy?" Larabee asked with a grin. The soft food diet he was on did little to aid his almost non-existent appetite. He lifted the spoon and tried the soup, grimacing as the bland taste settled heavily in his stomach.

"I don't envy you or our fallen Texan. It's bad enough being laid up, but to be forced to partake of such..."

"Don't say it, Ezra. There's no words to describe what's before me."

Standish watched as the blond ate the food on his tray. He knew the meal was nearly as bad as they all let on, but it had become a running joke amongst the seven members of the Firm. Right down to the shimmering shit, he thought of the Texan's name for the rubbery jell-o like substance with a smile. He watched as Larabee's eyes closed and moved the table out of the way. He sat back in his own chair and eyed the bed by the window. He knew sometime within the next twenty four hours Vin Tanner would be residing in that bed. He sighed heavily as he thought of the nurses who would have to deal with the two men.

"Good morning, Vin."

"Doc," Tanner's voice held an edge of pain as he tried to sit up more.

"Vin, just lie still. Dr. Marcus wants to take a look at you and make sure everything's okay before we decide whether you spend another day here or we move you down with Chris," Midland explained.

"I...I'm fine," the Texan hissed as a grimace of pain appeared on his pale face.

"We'll let the doctors decide that shall we?"

"Doc..."

"Vin, don't start. You've had major surgery and your lungs are still not clear. We need to be careful you don't end up with pneumonia. Here comes Dr. Marcus. He'll check you over and if he okays it we'll move you into the room with Chris this afternoon. Argue with me and I'll--"

"Hell, Doc, I hate your threats. Can't you just let me--"

"Keep it up, Vin, and I'll show you just how much hell I can cause..."

"Having problems, Stacey?" Marcus asked as he joined her at the Texan's bedside.

"Not at all, Carl. I think Vin knows by now that in here what I say goes. Right, Vin?"

Tanner looked from one doctor to the other and waited for the inevitable. He closed his eyes as the doctors hands touched his head.

Carl Marcus examined the site of the surgical incision on Tanner's head. He smiled at Midland as he spoke to his patient. "It looks fine, Vin," Marcus said a few minutes later.

The Texan knew it didn't look fine. He knew they'd shaved that part of his head and he hated the idea. Deep down he knew there really was no choice, that they did it to save his life, but he still felt a slight tremor of anger. Shit, Tanner, get a grip. It'll grow back, he thought. He groaned as he realized Wilmington would never let him live it down. Try anything, Bucklin, and I swear I'll get you for it. He felt Marcus' hands move to the site where the tube entered his chest. He held his breath as the doctor examined the area. The pain and nausea was almost overwhelming as he tried to move away from him.

"Easy, Vin, I'm almost done," Marcus explained.

Midland watched the pale face grimace as her colleague did a thorough job of checking the young man out. She looked up as a tall nurse with ash brown hair entered the ICU. She knew it was time for Tanner's medications and she smiled sympathetically at him. "Vin?"

"Y...yeah," the Texan answered tiredly.

"Julie's here with your medications."

"S...shit, Doc."

"Sorry, Vin, but it has to be done," Midland told him as Marcus finished his examination.

"Stacey, I think we can discharge Vin from--"

"The h...hospital," Tanner interrupted, knowing full well there wasn't a chance he was getting out today.

"ICU," Marcus laughed. "I'll see you in the morning, Vin. Take your meds and get some rest."

"Vin, I'll go make the arrangements to have you moved. Julie will give you your mask while I'm gone."

"T...thanks, Doc," Tanner turned to the nurse and smiled at her. He hated the treatments, but he couldn't take it out on the staff of the hospital.

"Vin, this won't take long" Julie's voice was full of sympathy as she placed the new mask over his face. "I know it don't seem like it, but it will make you feel better in the long run."

"Not too long a run I h...hope," the handsome young man hissed painfully.

Julie watched as the blue eyes filled with pain and she knew he would soon be coughing up the mucus in his lungs. She knew from other treatments how uncomfortable he would be, but there was no other way. To leave his lungs as they were would only make things worse, much worse in fact. She brushed the hair from his eyes and watched as the first painful gasping cough surged past his lips. She helped him sit forward and rubbed his back as he tried to hold it back. She knew he'd be unsuccessful and continued to watch his face. Once he calmed down she sat laid him back on the pillows and checked to see if the mask was finished. There was no mist evident and she lifted it from his face. She reached for the cloth in the basin beside his bed and lifted the mask. She washed his face and smiled as he looked at her gratefully.

"T...thanks," he said as his eyelids grew heavy and he surrendered to sleep.

"You're welcome," she whispered as she left the sleeping man to his dreams.

Chris watched as the bed was moved into the room. He hated seeing all the extra equipment the sharpshooter was hooked to. He knew he had his own machines, but Vin still looked so pale. His eyes were drawn to the shaved area of his friend's head. He knew Tanner wasn't vain, but he knew how much ribbing he'd get about it. He smiled as he met the blue eyes, knowing they'd be room mates for the next week or so.

Tanner returned the smile, even as his body was assaulted with new pain. He looked at the nurse and two orderlies who were trying to help move him into his new bed. He bit back a gasp as they moved him, clenching his fists tightly as fire erupted in his chest.

"All finished, Vin," Sheila Murphy assured him as she smoothed the blankets over the trembling form. She left him alone for a few minutes and checked to make sure the chest tube was working properly and hadn't been jostled during the move. The bloody fluids were still evident and she moved to check the IV and the morphine infusion pump. She knew he wasn't getting a normal dose of the medication, but from treating these guys before she knew he wouldn't complain. If anything these two macho males would ask to have the medication lowered or completely removed. "I'm just gonna take your vitals and then you can get some rest," she told her patient. She wrapped the BP cuff around his arm and took the reading. She used the ear thermometer and noted he still had a slightly elevated temperature. She listened to his chest and smiled at the blue eyes looking up at her. "Rest now, Vin. The call button is by your side. Just press it if you need anything."

"Okay," Tanner answered. He kept his eyes closed as he waited for the pain to recede. He felt the medication enter his system and waited for it to bring him a modicum of relief. Through the haze of pain and tiredness he heard the nurse talking to his room mate. He heard her as she took Larabee's vitals and gave him the same speech she'd just given him. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her footsteps leave the room.

"Vin?"

The Texan opened his eyes and slowly turned his head. He bit his lip as pain lanced through his skull, hoping his friend didn't see it. "Chris, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. You?"

"S...same," Tanner said with a thin smile. The two men laughed in spite of the pain they were in. The two words were used by them no matter how bad things got. Jackson threatened them more than once if they didn't tell the truth he'd tell the doctors to ignore everything they said. "B...better not let Nathan hear us," he laughed, and groaned as a cough erupted from his throat.

"Vin?" Larabee asked worriedly as he watched the pain flash across the other man's face.

"I...I'm okay, C...Cowboy," Tanner tried to reassure his friend, but knew it wasn't working when he sensed the green eyes on him. He fought back the cough and turned to his friend once more. "S...sorry," he muttered tiredly.

Before Chris could respond the door opened and five men walked into the room.

Jackson moved quickly to Tanner's side and eased him forward on the bed. "Don't fight it, Vin," he warned and waited for the painful sounds to stop. He knew the others were watching them, but he ignored them and glanced from one injured man to another. "You two need to stop fighting this. Don't look at me like that, Chris. You and Vin are cut from the same cloth. Shit, how many times have the doctors told you to cough up the gunk in your lungs? Neither one of you is getting outta here until that stuff is cleared up!"

"N...not fighting i...it, Nate," the tracker smiled weakly in spite of the pain in his chest.

"Yeah, right!" the medic snapped. "Look, just let it out, both of you," he said as he looked from one patient to the other. "You'll be outta here a lot faster if you do."

"O...okay, Nathan," Tanner let his eyes slide closed and listened as his friends talked quietly.

"How are you doing, Chris?" Jackson asked as he moved to the second bed.

"Hell, Nathan, if I answer with I'm fine you're not gonna believe me..."

"Damn straight I'm not," Nathan told him.

"I'd say you two better find a new line, Brother," Sanchez laughed as he saw the chagrined look on Larabee's face. The smile grew broader as he noted the same look on the Texan's face.

"I don't think Nathan would believe anything these two have to say," Wilmington grinned as he stood next to the blond's bed.

"You're one to talk, Buck," Jackson said. "Look the lot of you need to tell the truth. It'll make things a lot simpler. See, if a nurse asks, How's the pain, Vin? then the obvious thing would be to tell her the truth. But, no, Vin would answer, It's fine. Or Chris would say, I'm okay." He stopped as he glimpsed the look each man gave him. He could tell the six of them were fighting to keep the grins off their faces. He wanted to remain serious but couldn't in the face of the soft hints of laughter coming from the youngest member of the team. He glared at each man before giving into the smile he could feel blossoming on his own face. "There's nothing funny here," the medic said as he tried to fight the contagious laughter.

"I assure you there is, Mr. Jackson. I don't think I've ever heard you quote Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner in quite such a manner," Standish said.

"Yeah, Nate, you should see your face," Dunne laughed.

Jackson shook his head, " you guys are hopeless," he said as his gaze once more went from one man to another. It felt good to laugh. In the days since the explosion that claimed so many lives there was little real mirth in the group. With the infectious laughter came a lessening of the pain caused by the thought of losing these two men. He watched as two tired sets of eyes closed and signaled for the other men to leave. The relief was evident on his face as he moved to follow them. The Firm would be whole again, it would take a while, but they would get there together. He sighed as the door closed behind him.

Vin knew Chris was awake even as the door closed behind their friends. He was tired, but he needed to be sure Larabee really was okay. He couldn't quite remember their rescue, but he did remember the pain on the blond's face and the harsh sound of his breathing. The fear in the green eyes when Larabee saw the blood he coughed up made him realize just how close they'd both come to dying. Again he felt someone watching him and turned towards his room mate. He sighed heavily and smiled, the same smile was mirrored on his friend's face. Neither man spoke, simply let their eyes say what they felt, and fell into a healing sleep.

Chris smiled conspiratorially at his friend. The tubes in their chest were removed the day before. The IV's that morning, including the morphine. If they needed anything for pain it was just a matter of asking. The smoke was finally cleared from their lungs and they were both anxious to escape the hospital. They knew the best time would be in the early hours of the afternoon when the doctors completed their rounds and the nurses were taking their lunches. They'd faked sleep when the nurse came in earlier and knew they had at least an hour before she came back from her break.

"Are you up for this, Cowboy?" Tanner grinned as he pulled his track suit from the closet. He knew they'd have to apologize to JD the next time they saw him. They'd cajoled the younger man into bringing them clothes by saying they wanted to be able to walk around with some dignity. The kid knew how it felt to wear the flimsy hospital gowns and he smuggled in the clothes the day before. They'd also convinced him to leave them some money saying they might need to pay for small charges they incurred during their stay.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Larabee said. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Tanner asked worriedly from his side of the room.

"Just wondering how the hell I'm gonna get this shirt on," the blond hissed painfully.

"I tell you what, Chris. You give me a hand getting these damn pants up over this cast and I'll help you with the shirt."

"Sounds like a plan, Pard," the blond said as he eased off the side of the bed. He picked up his shirt and moved over to join his friend. He used his good arm to slide the sweats up over the bulky cast. "JD's a smart kid," he observed as he watched Tanner closed the snaps on the pants.

"We'll have to buy him a beer when we have that Saint Patrick's Day party," he said as he slid the tight white T-shirt over his arms. He bit back a groan as the shirt came in contact with the healing wound on his head. He knew what it looked like and he knew he was lucky to have survived. The hair would grow back, his life couldn't be replaced. He smiled at the worry on his friends face. "It's okay, Chris, I just have to remember not to move so fast."

Larabee still didn't look convinced. "Are you sure you're up for this, Vin?"

The sharpshooter's eyes opened wide and he nodded slowly, "I want out of here as much as you do, Chris."

"Yeah, but you're..."

"Don't go there, Larabee," Tanner smirked. "It may hurt but I'm not giving up on our escape plan. Now help me get my shoes," he looked down at his feet and smiled. "Shoe on," he corrected.

Larabee slipped the Velcro runner onto the bare foot and stood up. He tried, but wasn't quite able to bite back a groan as healing ribs and shoulder protested the strain he put on them. He used his left hand to lean heavily on the tracker's bed.

"Hell, Chris, are you sure you're up for this," he laughed as the words left his mouth and Larabee's glare was turned on him.

"Shut up and give me a hand here," Larabee snapped, picking up his shirt and handing it to the younger man.

Vin smiled as he slid the black shirt onto the other man's left arm. "Turn," he ordered and slipped the soft material over the opposite shoulder. He buttoned the loose fitting garment and tucked the unused sleeve in between the buttons.

Ten minutes later the two men were dressed and ready for their escapade. Chris stood in the door and looked out into the quiet corridor. The nursing station seemed to be empty and he turned back to see the tracker moving slowly with the aid of the crutches. He frowned as he noted the lines of pain on the tired face and wondered if this really was a good idea. Hell, Larabee, you'd probably scare yourself if you looked in a mirror right now, he thought as he fought off the pain from his arm.

"Looks like the coast is clear," Larabee said as he eased the door open and the two men slipped out. "We'll take the elevator to the basement and slip out that way."

"Good i...idea," Tanner agreed as he followed his friend towards the bank of elevators.

They made it without being spotted and Larabee pushed the button continuously until the door opened. He smiled at the elderly couple standing inside. "Going down?"

"Yes," the woman smiled at him as he helped his friend inside.

"You two sure don't look like you're ready to be gettin' outta here," the silver haired man stated.

"You're right, Henry, these two look ready to keel over at the first breath of wind," the woman said as the doors slid closed behind them.

"Maybe we'd best help them to their car," the female suggested.

"We're fine, ma'am," Tanner gave her his best smile and watched as the woman's cheeks turned a glowing red.

The doors opened on the first floor and the couple got out, waving at the two injured men as they did.

"That was close," the sharpshooter breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and they descended towards the lower level.

"Too close," Larabee agreed. The two men made their way towards the exit, carefully avoiding the cars as they left the garage. They waited for the guard to be busy and shuffled up the ramp. By the time they reached the outside grounds they were sweating and out of breath. Chris spotted a bench and the two moved towards it. They leaned heavily into each other and neither man knew who was helping whom. They eased onto the bench, but didn't speak for a few minutes.

Tanner finally turned to his friend and asked. "Okay, where to from here?"

"Well, first thing we need is a taxi. See any around here?"

"Hell, Chris, why don't you ask for something hard? You know how hard it is to get a taxi."

Larabee smiled as he looked across the parking lot. A blue cab sat on the edge of the lot. He couldn't see a driver, but he knew one had to be one. They just had to wait for him to return. "I think we just may be in luck. Think you can walk a little further?"

"To get outta here? Hell I can walk to the ranch," Tanner assured him.

"I don't doubt it for a minute. There's a cab over there. Let's go before we get caught."

"You got it, Cowboy," Tanner hissed as he stood up and placed the crutches under his arm. They swayed towards the cab, taking longer than normal to cover the short distance. "Now we just have to wait for the driver," the sharpshooter said.

"You don't have to wait long, Love." Both men looked up to see a tall brunette coming towards them. She wore Tight blue jeans and a tight white T-shirt that did nothing to hide her supple curves.

"H...hi," Tanner stuttered, tearing his eyes from her chest and looking into the dark brown soft eyes.

"Hi, yourself," she said as she looked from one man to the other. "What can I do for you?"

"We need a ride," Larabee told her.

"You two look like you should be arriving not leaving."

"We're fine," the sharpshooter said and tried to hold in a laugh. He could hear Larabee doing the same from beside him. Both men were picturing Nathan Jackson and his lecture on how they were really doing.

"Care to let me in on the joke," she asked as she watched them holding their arms close to their chest.

"L...long story," Larabee told her. "So are you available?"

"For what?" she asked looking both men up and down appraisingly.

"A...a ride," Tanner stated.

"Depends on what kinda ride you're looking for?"

"Right now, Ma'am, all I can take is a ride home."

"I think I can arrange that as long as I'm not breaking any laws. I won't be will I?" she asked, a mischievous smile on her face.

"No, Ma'am, we just want to go home," the long haired man said.

She looked at the two pale men before her and knew she was lost. These two had the looks that melted her resolve. She knew they were probably leaving without permission, but she'd done so herself the last time she was admitted. "Alright, Boys, I've pulled my own share of escaping from hospitals. Let's see if we can get you two inside my cab. What's your names?"

"I'm Vin. He's Chris."

"My name's Marita. Okay, Vin," she said looking at the man on crutches. "Why don't we stretch you out in the back here. Chris, you can ride up front." She helped Larabee into the front seat and pushed it forward to give extra room behind him. Next she opened the back door for the second man.

Vin held his breath and moved to sit on the seat. He sat for a few minutes, giving his body a chance to get used to the close confines of the car. He took shallow breaths waiting for the encroaching blackness to leave him alone.

"Vin?"

"I'm okay, Chris, just gimme a second." He had no idea how long he sat there before he finally eased himself across the back seat. His ribs ached, but he wasn't going to let anything ruin their plans. "Okay, all set," he said as the young woman closed the door for him.

Marita moved to the driver's side, opened the door and slid inside. "Okay, Boys, where to."

"Vin?"

"I got cold beer at my place, Chris," Tanner smirked, knowing he'd just said the magic word.

"Alright, that'll take care of the thirst but what about something to eat?"

"Damn, I don't think we'll be able to cook."

"Why don't you two pick something up?" Marita asked.

"Now that's a plan," the sharpshooter agreed. "Pizza?"

"Pizza sounds good, Vin."

"I know a great little take out. Pizza's the best in town."

"Lead the way, Marita," Larabee ordered, a cocky grin on his face.

An hour and a half later they pulled into Tanner's yard. The ranch house was a welcome sight for both men.

Chris reached over his own body and opened the door. He eased out of his seat and stood on shaky legs. He looked into the back and noticed the younger man seemed paler than before. He watched as Marita opened the back door and helped the sharpshooter slide along the seat until his legs were partially out the door. The blond reached down and held the broken limb as Marita and Vin completed the moves necessary to get the injured man out of the car. Fifteen minutes passed before the two men were leaning against the car. They watched appreciatively as Marita moved towards the house, Pizza and keys in her hands.

"She's mighty fine," Tanner observed.

"That she is, Vin. Gotta love that accent too."

"Reckon. Where do you think she's from?"

"Not sure, Australia maybe, or New Zealand."

"I'm bettin' New Zealand."

"Too bad Ezra's not here to take your wager."

"Are you two planning on holding up my car all day?" Marita asked as she opened the door and looked back at her two handsome passengers.

"We'll be right there," Larabee assured her.

"In about an hour," Tanner mumbled as he got the crutches under his arms. He heard Larabee's laughter and was glad he'd made the small crack. It felt good to hear the blond laughing. He used the crutches and made his way across the front yard to the open door. He smiled as he passed the woman and moved towards the cool interior of his home. He felt his friend behind him as he ambled towards the comfortable couch. He sank into the familiar softness and smiled as the young woman eased his injured limb onto the couch.

Chris watched as the woman tended his friend. He could tell she liked him and was pretty certain he liked what he saw as well. He eased into Tanner's chair and closed his eyes for a few minutes. His body was letting him know just how unhappy it was with this little adventure. He heard a soft giggle from the area of the couch and briefly wondered if he should leave.

"Well, Chris, Vin, I have to get back to work. I put your pizza in the oven. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No thanks, Marita," Tanner said as he passed her the money for the fare, with an added bonus for the trouble she'd gone through for them. He watched her leave the house and turned to his friend. "How're you doing, Chris?" he asked.

Larabee smiled at the other man. "Not nearly as good as you. Did you get her number?"

"What do you think?" the sharpshooter said as he laid his head back.

"Want a beer?"

"Reckon it'd be a good idea."

"Pizza?"

"Yep," the tracker said as he started to get up.

"Stay put, Vin, I'll get it," he said and continued when he saw the look on his friends face. "I may have a broken wing, but I got two legs. Back in a second, make that a minute or two."

"Or five or ten," Tanner grinned as he watched Larabee move towards the kitchen. He listened as he heard mild cursing coming from the kitchen and was tempted to cross the room and see what was happening. The pain in his leg and ribs quickly changed his mind. He closed his eyes and was on the verge of dozing when he heard his friend returning. He knew by the beads of sweat on the blond's forehead he was overdoing things, but he didn't say anything.

Chris slid the tray onto the small glass coffee table and winced as he sank into the chair. "Would you do the honors, Vin?" Larabee asked, pointing to the still capped beers.

"Sure thing, Cowboy," Tanner smiled as he opened the two beers and passed one to his friend. The two men sipped at the beer and sat back, enjoying the cold brew. Larabee picked up a piece of the warm pizza and handed it to his friend. The two men relaxed and savored the friendship they shared.

Two hours later five very worried and anxious men opened the door to Tanner's house. The sight of two very happy and very inebriated men did little to soften their anger.

Chris, who was facing the door saw them first. He smiled and lifted the beer in his hands. "Hey, Boys, join the party."

Tanner batted his eyes as he sat further up on the couch. "Hey Nathan, Buck, Josiah, Esh...ra, PJ..DJ...JD."

"Don't you JD me!" Dunne snapped angrily. "You tricked me into getting you those clothes."

"Because you knew you couldn't get one of us to listen to you!" Jackson snapped at the two injured men. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?" he took the beer from Larabee's hand and reached for the one the sharpshooter was lifting to his mouth. "Oh no you don't! No more of this! You two are going back to the hospital where you belong!"

"Ain't goin to no hoshspital, Nate. Now gimme back my beer and get yer own!" Tanner snapped drunkenly.

"Yeah, Nate, we's jush havin' fun. Tired of bein' in the hosh...hosh...spidal," Larabee slurred.

"Nathan, I don't think the hospital would accept them back in this state," Sanchez exclaimed, trying to hide the smile on his face.

"Josiah's right, Nate. Ol' Doc Midland would go balishitic on ush," the Texan drawled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Jackson looked at the sharpshooter and then at The Firm's leader as the two men sank into a drunken sleep. He noted the half eaten pizza and the nearly empty two-four of beer. "Will they ever learn?" he asked no one in particular.

"Not likely, Brother," Sanchez said.

"Maybe it would be prudent if we get our inebriated comrades into bed where they can sleep it off," Standish suggested.

Jackson thought about leaving the two men right where they were but the medic and friend inside him knew he couldn't do that. They were still recovering from injuries and to leave them as they were would be cruel. He'd get his revenge at a later date when the two men were healed. "Alright, Josiah, Ezra, you two got Vin. Buck, you and I get Chris. JD go turn down the blanket on their beds."

The five men moved to care for their fallen friends and soon had them tucked in. Larabee and Tanner both mumbled words of thanks as they settled down to sleep off the effects of beer and exhaustion.

Buck's Place was packed to capacity as five weeks after the actual date of the explosion the Bar was celebrating Saint Patrick's Day once more. Tables were jammed with people wearing green t-shirts, hats and sporting shamrocks tattooed on their faces. The beer was green and the little finger sandwiches were made using green bread. People danced to Irish music and laughed at age old Irish jokes told by half drunk men and women. Most of the people in the bar were celebrating the return of Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. They were friends who knew the members of The Firm and a lot of them had benefited from their expertise. The table at the back was reserved for the seven men.

Chris still had his shoulder immobilized, Vin was still in a full length cast, yet neither man showed any discomfort. They sat side by side, smiling as they watched the antics of their friends. Tanner was self conscious about the scar and hair loss on the left side of his head and sported a baseball cap provided by JD Dunne. His shirt was white with a green shamrock and the little leprechaun from the frosted lucky charms commercial.

Chris smiled as the blue eyes turned towards him. He met the gaze and lifted his beer. The shirt he wore was white and held a simple green shamrock, the words also in green read Happy Saint Patrick's Day, 2002. He lifted his beer at the same time as the tracker and the two clinked bottles.

Tanner smiled as Wilmington returned to the table after dancing with a buxom blonde. He knew from the smile on his face that the ladies' man now sported her phone number. He suddenly remembered the prank Chris and he played on the scoundrel after the shimmering shit breastellos fiasco.

Chris watched as Tanner's eyes twinkled. He knew instinctively the younger man was up to something.

"Did you get a number, Buck?"

"What the hell do you think?" Wilmington asked, a twinkle in his own eyes.

"Figured as much. That makes you, Ezra, JD, Josiah, and Nathan," Tanner observed and glanced at the man beside him.

"No way," Wilmington hissed as he looked to the other men at the table. "You guys didn't get her number. Did you?" he asked softly.

"Afraid so, Buck," Josiah said, and each man held up a paper napkin with numbers scrawled on it.

"Ah hell," Wilmington said. "I was sure this would get me back on track."

"Having another dry spell, Bucklin?" Tanner asked.

"If it gets any dryer I'll be as arid as a Sahara Desert," Wilmington mumbled.

Tanner took pity on the moustached man and laughed as he said. "Gotcha, Pard."

"What do you mean?" Wilmington asked and slapped his hands on the table as he was handed the napkins. The number written on them was his own and he realized he'd been had. "You do know this means war?" he asked and then suddenly brightened as he realized what the numbers meant. "hey, wait a minute, You know what this means?"

"Congratulations, Buck" Dunne said. "You're not gonna turn into the Sahara after all."

"That's right, Kid. Ol' Buck is back and the babes are the ones who'll be hot."

"Oh, shit, maybe we shouldn't have told you the truth," Larabee smiled at his long time friend.

"Jealous, Chris," Wilmington grinned as he lifted his beer. "To the return of Bucklin and all the women he's gonna make happy." They laughed and drank to Buck's toast. "The boys and I got you both something," the scoundrel said.

"Oh shit," Tanner said, not liking the gleam in the dark haired man's eyes.

"Well if you feel that way we'll let Chris open his first," Buck told him and handed Larabee a small paper wrapped package.

Chris accepted the package and slowly opened the wrapping. He smiled at what he saw and looked at each man before his eyes came to rest on the sharpshooter.

"What the hell is it, Chris?" the sharpshooter asked.

Larabee lifted the charcoal gray T-Shirt and showed it to his friend. It was the exact match of the one lost during the explosion at Rimrock mall. Complete with the snake and the saying.

"How? Where?" Tanner asked.

"Buck found it at a little T-shirt shop over on the east side," Dunne supplied.

"Thanks, Boys," Larabee said. He knew he couldn't wear it now because of the shoulder but next year he'd wear it proudly.

"Okay, Vin, you're next," Dunne said.

Tanner accepted the small package, identical in size and shape and smiled. He slowly lifted the flap and his eyes grew wide. He looked towards the ladies' man, knowing he was behind the gift. "I'll get you for this, Bucklin!" he said, trying, but failing to keep the smile off his face.

"Ah come on, Vin, what's wrong? Is it the color? I thought it would match your eyes perfectly."

"What is it, Vin?" Larabee asked, leaning forward to look into the wrapping. He tried to keep a straight face as he looked at the wig, the color was the same as Tanner's eyes. He looked at the sharpshooter and knew the young man was barely containing his laughter. "Are you gonna model it?" he asked, and was rewarded as the quicksilver laughter broke from the younger man's face.

"Hell, No!" the sharpshooter stated.

"You wound us, Mr. Tanner. Are we to surmise that you don't appreciate our efforts to give you back what the physicians removed," Standish asked.

"What the physicians removed wasn't blue, Ez," Tanner laughed as he pulled the long strands of blue hair from the package. "Shit if I put this on I'd look like Papa Smurf," he said.

"Perish the thought," the conman said.

Buck smiled as he passed Tanner a second parcel. "Here, Vin, maybe this is more to your liking. Go ahead, open it." he said as he noted the sharpshooter's hesitation.

"It's not more hair is it?"

"Open it and see, Pard," the moustached man suggested.

Tanner opened the second parcel and this time the smile was instantaneous. "Thanks, Boys," he said as he indulged in the green chocolate shamrocks he's enjoyed the day of the explosion. The sharpshooter placed the package in the center of the table so everyone could share them. He lifted his beer and smiled at his friends. "Happy Saint Patrick's Day," he said and the seven drank the toast and settled back to enjoy the evening.

The front page picture on the Billing's Gazette was taken just after the clean up was under way. When the workers broke through a second time a photographer managed to get by them. Amazingly the photo he took showed a section of the food court. Standing amidst the clutter and debris was the untouched Cinibon sign, the counter was covered in dust but was otherwise unharmed. Behind the counter stood a young girl, her face covered with dust and streaked with tears. She'd been unconscious and only just came to. A trip to the hospital showed her to be perfectly fine except for a small bump on the back of her head. She was one of the lucky ones.

A total of forty people died in the explosion at Rimrock mall. Another fifty were injured, some would never have the same mobility they had before the destruction. Paul Gardener died instantly, along with the owner of the mall and the people who were touring with him. A Memorial plaque was erected in memory of the people who died on March 15th. A solemn reminder of how precious life was and how easily it could be lost.

Six months later reconstruction of the mall began. The seven members of The Firm were there to watch as the first block of cement was laid. Life was returning to normal and with it came new hope.

THE END