The Red Zone
by Deirdre

"Help!" Chris spat, fists clenched. "You wanna help? Get the fuck out of my room you stupid fuckin' son-of-a-bitch! Get out..." Chris screamed, jerking at the bars, trying to get out of the bed and hurt back. "Get out or I'll bust the other side of your face! Get out!"

"Mr. Larabee!" A dark skinned, pretty nurse ran by Vin and shoved Chris back into the bed.

"Get off me...get him out! I don't want him...near...me...my rights...patient...the hell kind of hospital is this? Who let that animal in my room!" Chris screamed, shoving the nurse aside. "Get a cop...arrest that fuckin' bastard!"

Vin saw her push the red button near Chris's hip and two more nurses moved in, their forward motion balancing his stumbling, backward steps. The pain went away, replaced by a bitter numbness. Every emotion he had was destroyed. The words replayed over and over, screaming at him. Who was it that said 'the truth hurts'? He didn't hear the nurses talking with Chris. He didn't hear the one in the hall who ran with a mild sedative. He didn't breathe again until he was on his knees, hugging the porcelain throne. The meager lunch came up and the little bit of water followed it. The dry heaves came next, leaving his ribs on fire and his eyes tearing. He kicked the door shut with his bare foot, embracing the darkness that followed. He huddled between the toilet and the shower stall and pressed his face against the cool tiles. Nobody saw the tears that fought their way free; there was no hand on his back, no comforting touch. He was alone again...was that how it should be? If he had been alone in the car, Chris wouldn't have nearly been killed. How high was the price you paid for belonging? Was it worth it? So many questions overpowered his mind, interspaced with Chris's verbal whipping. He wiped away the last salty remnant of his weakness and embraced the cold shell inside. If he was alone, he wouldn't have this broken heart. If he was alone, he wouldn't feel the knife in his guts...the one that those green eyes were shredding.

"...sah we..." he whispered, clenching his eyes shut, trying to dispell the vibrant image of the irate blond's face.

"Damn it's quiet in here," Buck said to Ezra as the pair strode up the hallway in the hospital. It was just after three p.m. when they arrived at Chris's room.

"What the hell?" Buck said, picking up the "no visitors" sign on the doorknob. Ignoring it, he opened the door, only to find the bed inside empty. When he poked his head outside in the hall, he flagged a nurse. "Excuse me, we're ATF agents, friends of Chris Larabee. Where is he?"

"Hold on and I'll check, I just came on duty at three," she said, backtracking to the nurse's station. She conferred with another nurse before returning to the pair of men in the corridor. "He's having a series of x-rays done, it's not likely he'll return for a few hours."

"What's with the sign?" Buck thumbed the object.

"That's usually by the patient's request." She motioned for them to follow her to the nurse's station. Again she spoke to the chart nurse, who joined them.

"Hi, I'm Angela Brandon. I was the one who spoke with Mr. Larabee earlier. It's by his request that the order was placed there. You are good friends of his?"

"Yeah," Buck nodded, "I go back over twelve years, we're partners that long..."

"He has an amnesiatic condition, which we suspect is temporary, due to the swelling and damage to his head."

"Amnesia?" Ezra frowned, "but you feel it's temporary?"

"Absolutely, he's already having flashbacks. He dodged the bullet in ICU, putting together enough clues to get him up here. The wound was serious and he'll be here for a few days, we need to monitor the swelling."

"But why the sign?" Buck asked again.

"I was told by the duty nurse on the shift before, that he had a visitor, shortly after he arrived in the room. It was the young man that was driving the car..."

"Vin Tanner," Ezra filled in, "...he's a close friend...a very close friend."

"Not today he wasn't, he was stranger and well...there was an incident."

"What kind of incident?" Buck's hackles rose.

"The shouting kind...the angry kind...bad enough that we had to give Mr. Larabee a mild sedative."

"Shouting match?" Buck's face screwed up and he shook his head, "I guess Chris was a little upset but...how bad?"

"From the nurses who witnessed it, quite violent. His memory returned enough to give him flashes of the incident. He saw your friend's face, he saw the rage and heard the bitter words , then relived the bullet hitting him. He thought your Mr. Tanner was the shooter. He didn't mince his words or language and inflicted rather harsh verbal abuse." She paused and scanned the area, "Jasmine, can you come here for a moment..." She waved to a nurse at the elevator, ready to go home. As the pretty, dark-skinned nurse joined them, the made the introductions. "These are friends of both Mr. Tanner and Larabee. I'd like you to tell them what you heard."

Both agents remained silent, only their faces drawn in tension and worry, revealed the horror they felt as the repercussions of bullets like 'animal', 'lunatic' 'bastard' and the rest of the verbal assault came to play.

"Jesus!" Buck rocked back on his heels. "How's Vin?"

"Thank you Jasmine, that will be all" She waited until they were alone again. "I spoke with him when I came on duty. I think he understood what I told him, he didn't say a word. I felt awful for him...he seemed so alone and withdrawn."

"God..." Buck pressed both hands on the counter and dropped his head. How could it get any worse? "...and Chris?"

"The doctor spoke with him about an hour ago. We're told not to force him to remember, that could lead to a worse situation. From their conversation and other flashes Mr. Larabee got about a ranch, some of his men, a trip to San Diego...the doctor is confident his memory will return completely in short order."

"Is he going to remember the confrontation with Vin?" Ezra asked, already worried about Vin's emotional state.

"That's hard to say...time will tell. I'm sorry, I'm late for a meeting. If you have any more questions or concerns, have one of the nurses beep me...I'm on until eleven. Oh, Mr. Tanner can go, he's been discharged. He only needed someone to escort him from here. You an fill his prescription at the pharmacy," she handed Ezra the doctor's orders, " I don't think he should be alone..."

"He won't be," Ezra stated, taking the slips of paper, "and thank you."

"How do you want to play this?" Buck asked the southerner as they left for the two rooms.

"Let's assess Vin's condition first," he suggested, "I don't think he would want this painful episode broadcast to anyone."

"So you think we shouldn't let on that we know?" Buck guessed.

"For now, " Ezra mused, as they approached Vin's room, "I think with all the healing he has to do, it would hurt him further to think we knew about this. He would be ashamed. We can give him support and comfort and faith. He needs that most of all, to reassure himself his position with Chris."

"What about Chris?" Buck asked, "What if he never remembers? Then Vin has to carry that weight. He ain't that strong, hell nobody would be..."

"But he's smart and a survivor," Ezra assessed, of the world-wise Texan, "If he is drowning, he'll reach out...he'll come to us...he's too smart not to."

"Vin?" Buck called out, entering the empty room. He spotted the sneaks and socks on the bed and eyed the rest of the room "Vin, you here?" he tapped on the bathroom door. "You okay?"

"...yef..."

Buck and Ezra waited, but no further response came. Five minutes went by and Buck tapped the door again.

"Vin, are you sick or something? What are you doing in there?" He heard a painful intake of air ?and then shuffling sounds. The door opened and Vin turned and squinted as his eyes adjusted to light.

"Jesus!" Buck repelled, eyeing the horrid, swollen, discolored face. He saw Vin wheezing and holding his side. Then he understood about the socks and shoes. "The doc okay'd you to leave. You need a hand?" The head dipped once and Vin shuffled to the chair. Buck gave Ezra a worried look. He'd seen Vin in just about every situation work related and off duty as well. He never recalled seeing the total lack of emotion. The blue eyes were dull and listless, the face shadowed and the bruised body was slumped in defeat. He was shivering and trembing, but neither pressed him. Ezra got the socks and shoes on and Vin stood, picked up his meager plastic bag of belongings and shuffled out the door.

"I'll get your prescription filled and meet you in the lobby," Ezra said, leaving Buck with Vin.

"Aw, hell..." Buck hissed, rubbing his neck. "Hey Vin...wait up..." He jogged after him, noting that Vin never looked near Chris's room. He was slowly walking towards the elevators. Hearing Buck's voice, the body stopped. He caught up to the younger man and moved in front on him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, I just wanted you to know...I know you think you're looking at all dark clouds right now, but the sun will shine again. Ezra's gonna take you home and..."

"No..." Vin shook his head, "...wance..."

"Wance?" Buck paused, "Ranch? Chris's place?"

"Yef..." Vin nodded, "...hum t'fur..."

"Oh, the city's too far from Chris?" Buck understood, "That's a good idea, Chris won't be out of here for a few more days. You look like ten miles of bad road, Slick, you get some rest and don't let Ez take any of your money."

Despite the coat and sweat suit, he couldn't get warm. He shivered as he eyed the elevator that led outside. Try as he may, he couldn't get Chris's heated words or face contorted in hate from his mind. The nurse mentioned the amnesia being temporary, but that didn't take the pain away. Part of the icy grip on his insides, was the realization that his best friend was right. It was his fault, his temper had nearly gotten them both killed. Sitting all afternoon in the dark confines of the cool tiled bath, he made a decision. He'd take whatever steps necessary to change. He'd seen ads posted before for classes in stress management and such...books, there had to be books on controlling your temper. He'd heard that meditation helped...he intended to use the next couple weeks as his springboard into the new Vin Tanner, one whose fast mouth and sharp tongue wouldn't get his best friend or any of his other friends, killed. Killed...the image appeared again, Chris's head exploding. He jerked back and bit his lip.

"...I sahwe...Bucwin..."

Buck felt a machine gun was emptied in his guts. If the soft, raspy, mixed up words from the swollen, stitched up mouth and jaw weren't painful enough, there was the awful desperation in the limp blue eyes.

"Hey, look at me, Vin Tanner." He said quietly and waited for the head to rise. "It's killing me to see you busted up inside like this...but you gotta know...and this is important..." He gripped both of Tanner's shoulders, "that we're all here to help you, no matter what. We're a team and you're a part of us now, when one hurts, we all hurt. We'll get through this together, Vin, whatever it takes."

"...ma fult...tempel...tempel...fuffck..." Vin fisted both hands, only to have two larger ones grab them.

"Cut that out and stop actin' like a spoiled kid," Buck barked, "We got the police report, we know about the road rage. You're human Vin, and I know you got a short fuse. It was an accident...and you paid a helluva price to learn a lesson...but it will get better." He paused and released Vin's hands, turning his own over and offering it up. "You got this, Slick, you know that right?" He saw the head nodding and Vin shivering again. "Okay, I'll be over later...you want more company?" he noted of the rest of the team.

"...no...tiwood..."

"Yeah, I hear that, " Buck nodded, "I can't never sleep in hospital bed either. Ezra's got your pills and orders...you get some sleep. Things will look a little better in the morning, Vin. We'll bring you back to see Chris."

Vin felt Buck's strong hands grip his shoulders in a show of support as he left. But standing there, watching without interest as the numbers on the elevator panel descended, he never felt so lonely in his life. The bell sounded, the doors opened, but he didn't move. A voice from another visitor behind him, roused him.

"Going down?"

Perfect choice of words, he thought of the woman's question. "...yef..." he shuffled into the elevator. "...way dun..." he shook head and took a painful inhalation of air as the doors slid shut.

Part Five

The trip to the ranch was quiet, much too quiet. Ezra kept shifting glances sideways at Vin, who remained motionless. The seat was reclined enough for him to rest. The eyes were closed, but Ezra knew Vin wasn't asleep. The bobbing Adam's apple and fists curling up were signs of the inward battle. Finally, they arrived.

"Vin, we're here..." He said quietly and got out of the car. He got Vin on his feet and took the keys from Vin's hand. He made only one stop on the way, to a supermarket. He carried the packages upstairs and by the time he was done, Vin was already in the guest room off the den, fast asleep. Ezra put the containers of yogurt, pudding and applesauce in the refrigerator. He also bought protein powder to make Vin milkshakes. The doctor thought it best to leave Vin on cold, soft food until he examined the tender interior of the damaged jaw and gums, later in the week. He filled a quart container with a snap on lid with coke and ice and carried it to Vin's side. He saw the slight body shivering under the blanket, and retrieved a thick quilt from the closet. He pulled it over Vin and tapped his shoulder.

"I have your pills and a cold soda," he offered and waited for Vin to sit up. "Just rest the tip of the straw on your lip, no further." He saw the shaggy head dip and the pill disappeared, along with a good amount of soda. "I'll leave it here, with a basin as well, in case you get sick. Vin, I'm just outside..." He gave the slumped shoulder a good squeeze and turned away. Just as the door was closing, he heard the soft, painful lisp.

"...fanks..Ethwa..."

"You're most welcome," he sent back, shutting the door.

Buck was watching the news at early afternoon news in Chris's room, when the blond made his return. The tall man waited patiently, while his friend was settled in the bed. He tossed the newspaper on the chair and walked over, stiffening a bit at the cold stare that was regarding him. The familiar features were set in a stranger's face.

"Hey, Chris," Buck offered, "It's Buck Wilmington...how the xrays go?"

Chris's brows drew in and he stared hard at the tall man with dark hair and a mustache. He winced and rubbed his head as images appeared, of him with this man. Laughing, drinking beer, picking up girls, then new ones emerged; tense faces, guns drawn, shooting in a field, arresting people, the other strange faces came back, a boy with black hair and hazel eyes, a dark skinned man with soulful brown eyes and a large man with gray hair and smokey eyes. They all wore navy jackets with ATF in gold on the back.

"Sorry..." he offered, shaking his head. "Everything's all blurry...you work with me?"

"Hell yeah," Buck sighed, cocking his head, "For about twelve years now...we've been through Hell and back, Stud." Buck grinned, then his smile disappeared when the pale face below locked in pain. A sharp hiss and moan was followed by the IV'd hand covering his face, fingers laced on the bandage. "Chris?"

Stud. The word brought a sharp pain and more pictures appeared. A beautiful woman with a small boy; the Buck was there too, laughing and tossing the boy high in the air. The woman was snuggled in his arms, his own face was looking at her with unprecidented passion. A name assaulted him...

"Sarah..." Chris gasped, eyes darting around the room, another face with a name, " Buck?..." he turned to the man above him, puzzled, then the clouds parted, "Buck!"

"That's my name, don't wear it out..." Buck teased, grabbing the single flailing hand and gripping it tight, helping the injured man to ride out the storm. The body sagged, the hand went limp and Chris was unconcsious again. Buck placed the hand on Chris's chest and pulled the blue thermal blanket up over him. He settled back in the chair, at Chris's side, where he felt the most comfortable.

By the time Buck got to the ranch it was after nine p.m. He put a bag of chinese food on the table, while his loud voice announced his arrival. Ezra appeared, got him plates, utencils and a cold beer.

"How's Vin?" he asked, dropping his coat on the hook by Chris's back door. Ezra got a beer for hiimself and sat across from him. He decline the offer of food, there was plenty, but the southerner had eaten already.

"I'm not sure." Ezra took a swig of Coors Lite and sighed, "He's been sleeping most of the day, and very distant when he's awake. He ate some yogurt and pudding about five o'clock. That reminds me, he has medication due."

"I'll get it," Buck said, grabbing a small white bag, "I got him a giant milkshake from the gourmet ice cream place he and the Kid like in town." He took the pills the other dispensed and stood up.

"He's on the sofa in the den," Ezra said, reading the information Travis has emailed about the Boxer Arsonist.

"Hey Vin!" Buck sat on the coffee table next to the battered body and winced. The external disfigurement was bad enough, but the internal wounds were agonizing to look upon. Vin's eyes, usually animated, stormy, exhuberant or angry were totally void...like a corpse's. "Here, this should slide down easy enough, it's number five..." he baited of the chocolate confection, knowing it was Vin's favorite.

Vin knew Buck was trying and he roused himself from his pondering mode. He sat up and swung his legs over, keeping the blanket in place. "...fanks..." His stomach was upset and he didn't tell Ezra that the dinner had come back up with a vengeance. He didn't want the sweet treat, but didn't want to disappoint Buck. He took a good sip and licked the foam from his upper lip. "...Cwis?"

"He's doing a lot better," Buck noted, "His memory is coming back, earlier this afternoon, he remembered Sarah, then remembered me. Right before I left he asked about the team, the Boxer Arson Case...so his memory is coming back okay. How you doin', Slick?"

Vin knew Buck wasn't talking about the bruises littering his body. He shifted, placing both hands on the edge of the leather sofa and frowned, eyeing the mezmerizing flames dancing in the fireplace. "I...get hulp...tempel...bad...I twy...pwahmis...Buck...no mull tempel...no mull...no..." he felt his face flush and his eyes burn. Try as he might, Chris's words still rang in his ears.

"That's the first step, Vin," Buck gentled, easing his large hand on the downcast shoulder. He didn't miss the pained eyes or the flush of emotion. "Whatever I can do..." he offered and saw the head bob and rise. A hand snaked out from under the blanket and locked onto his forearm, a gesture usually reserved for Larabee only. He saw Vin's mouth open and close without a sound. He gave the small Texan a smile that warmed the room as much as the fire. "You're welcome..."

Knowing how much Buck valued Chris's life, that gesture meant the world to Vin and gave him renewed strength to carry out his plan. He eyed the melting milkshake and felt the mouthful he'd taken rebelling. "Fweezel..." he handed it up and heard Buck chuckle.

"Sure...stomach rocky?" Buck guessed and saw Vin nod, "You toss up that wonderful dinner Ez told me about?" The head nodded again and Buck winced. "How about a mug of tea?"

"...yef...thugah..."

"Yeah, I know, I'll make sure it's got enough sugar. You want that herbal shit Ez has that makes you sleepy?"

"...yef..."

"Okay, you hang tight, I'll be right back, I'll make sure it's cool, I know you can't have hot stuff yet."

"Everything okay?" Ezra asked, returning from the study where he emailed Josiah and Orrin about some ideas he had. Buck was halfway through his mini-Oriental buffet.

"Yeah, I gave him some of the shit...uh herbal tea of yours and he's out like a light. He took the pills too."

"...and..." Ezra saw Buck studying Vin's back, which was visible from where he chair sat. The den was off the large kitchen and the Texan was turned away, facing the back of the sofa. Just a small thatch of brown hair shown above the quilt he was wrapped in.

"He's all torn up inside, but he promised that he's gonna make it right, about his temper. This really scared the hell out of him."

"To say the least," Ezra agreed, "I've got some CD's that might help, Nature sounds, Native American flute and chimes and such. Quite restful."

"Chris has some books in the study...I'll dig them out for him." Buck replied

"How is our esteemed leader?" Ezra nibbled on a fortune cookie.

"His memory is coming back, he remembered me and Sarah first, then before I left stuff from work came back to him. He's in a lot of pain, though," Buck whispered, not wanting Vin's radar ears to perk up. "They did some tests this afternoon," he paused, "I stopped by the nurses station on the way out. They want to keep him for a few days, something about his CT Scan."

"We'll inquire further when we get there in the morning," Ezra decided

Buck was up early, putting more wood in the fireplace and stacking it beside, so Vin wouldn't have to go outside to get any. He made a pot of coffee and had his 'world famous' Wilmington omelettes ready to saute. He heard a thump and turned the burners off, leaving the ham, peppers, cheese and other ingredients waiting. He paused in the den and heard severe gagging sounds.

"Shit..." he hissed, running to the guest room and flinging the door open. Vin was on the floor, trying to pull himself up and not throw up at the same time. "Hold on..." Buck grabbed the smaller man, but realized they'd never make it to the bathroom. He got Vin to the basin Ezra left, which in Vin's frantic movements, had been swept to the floor. As if vomiting weren't bad enough, forcing your muscles to go the other way over a battered, bruised body was truly painful. By the time the last dry heaves finished, Vin was weak, teary-eyed from pressure and gasping.

"...Bucwin..." Vin blinked, not realizing through his fog who was pulling him up.

"Yeah, hold on now..." Buck eased him back on the bed and made short trip to the bathroom for wet towels and water. While Vin cleaned himself off, Buck got his medication and some gatorade. "Maybe this will stay down...bad dream again?"

"...dead...face bwown up..." Vin muttered of the horrid nightmare about Chris.

"Yeah, that's tough," Buck agreed, "You drink that down and get back under those covers. I'll bring you some pudding in a little while."

"...ob...e...fun...no...sittel..."

"I know you'll be fine," Buck interpreted the message. Vin had already read his face; the sniper knew he and Ezra were heading to Denver for an afternoon meeting with the ATF task force. They were stopping to see Chris on the way back to work. Josiah and Nate would come back up for a dinner visit and stay over at the ranch. "I could find a nice, soft curvy babysitter for you?" He teased, but worried when the same emotionless face turned away. He shook his head and went back to the kitchen, making breakfast for Ezra and himself. Ezra appeared with the empty gatorade container.

"Sick again?"

"Yeah...bad dreams..." Buck answered, "Juice?"

"Thanks," Ezra got the toast done and cut up some melons. The two ate in silence, each wondering on the problem at hand. They were ready to go at eight o'clock and Ezra took a container of iced herbal tea and two puddings into the patient. He paused over the body in the bed and frowned. The swollen, discolored, distorted face was hard to look upon. "Vin...Vin..."he shook the shoulder gently, until two blue slits appeared. "We're leaving now, are you sure you'll be alright?"

"...go..." Vin coughed, wincing as the spasm hit his bruised ribs. "...fanks...Eth..." he took a good sip of the tea and shivered again.

"If you're up to it, try to eat some pudding. There's two protein milkshakes ready to go..."

"..kay..." Vin nodded, peeling a pudding open and dipping a spoon inside. He finished one, took a long swig of tea and buried himself again under the warm blanket. He fell sound asleep, when he awakened, it was almost noon. He stiffly manuevered his body to the shower, glad his stomach wasn't as sour. The hot water rained down, chasing the chills away. He idled, lingering under the steam and rested his face against the tile. By the time he got dressed and to the kitchen it was twelve forty-five. He drank some more tea, a protein shake and finished a pint of cold egg drop soup. He eyed the clock and got his coat on. He took Chris's keys and slowly, painfully limped down the stairs to Chris's Mustang. He slid behind the wheel and turned the engine over. He cut the heat on, letting the warm air kiss his throbbing face as he made his way to the hospital.

Part Six

"Dammit!" Chris hissed, flipping the television off. He laid back against the pillow, realizing no matter what position he was in, his head would still pound. He closed his eyes, wishing he'd told the nurse who left the lunch tray to shut the blinds. The afternoon sun was like a ax hatcheting his tender wound. He blinked and shifted his body painfully, wary of the IV lines and saw a shadow jump back past the doorframe. Frowning, he left his gaze there for a few moments, but the hall remained empty. He rested his burning eyes again, glad that Buck and Ezra were gone. As much as he appreciated them visiting, he was glad when they left. There's nothing worse than trying to remain alert and 'perky' for your visitors when you feel like shit warmed over. Sighing, he shifted again and adjusted his body. "Shit!" he cried out, as the sunlight penetrated his throbbing skull. Then the harsh light was gone and the coolness enveloped him. He peeled an eye open and the shadow appeared again, and he caught a profile and long brown hair.

"Vin?" He called out and saw a body stalling near the door. Ezra and Buck warned him that Vin's face was busted up, but seeing it was another story. The left side was distorted, grotesquesly misshapenned with purplish-black bruising marring the entire half. The left eye was reduced to a slit and stitches lined the marred lip. But the right eye was wide and full of pain, something that went so deep it took Chris's breath away. "Jesus, Vin...I had no idea...I mean Buck said your face was a mess but...Vin, why are you hovering in the damn doorway? Get your ass over here..."

Vin didn't move, his heart wanted to, but his legs wouldn't budge. He twisted the paper bag in his hand and continued to avert his gaze.

"I can't smell that bad," Chris tried, knowing Vin was feeling low. But the face remained a long mask. "Unless you're the one who stinks..." Still no motion. "What the hell did you come here for if...wait a minute...how'd you get here?"

"...dwove..."

"Drove?" Chris repeated, the lisping voice supported the nurse's report that Vin's left jaw, gum and cheek inside were torn up. "...my mustang?" He didn't intend for his voice to be so sharp and regretted the tone when the shaggy head fell forward. "Fine...suit yourself...hold up the fuckin' doorway..." Chris's head was pounding and he laid back, casting an arm across his face. He drifted awhile and heard movement, opening his eyes he saw a blue shirt. He raked his gaze upwards and caught the younger man off guard. The mask was down and a replaced with a guilt ridden face.

"...I sah we...Cwis...mah fult...tempel...tempel...no more...pwahmis..."

"I'm holding you to that one, Tanner, I mean it," Chris stated in a direct tone, pulling no punches. "It's not worth getting killed over...I want your word, Vin, you do something about that hot head of yours before one of us ends up in the morgue."

"...pwahmissed!" Vin snarled, fisting both hands. He knew Chris was angry, he could read the tension in the face and the glare was penetrating. "...sud sah we!" he vented, not able to control his raging emotions. He still saw Chris's head exploding and then heard the awful words from yesterday morning. Bitter truths that spilled forth; the blond didn't even know the pain he'd caused. "...fufckth..." he pounded the bedrails.

"That lasted long," Chris quipped, reading the irate eyes. "That's what I'm talking about. You gotta get that under control...." His advise was interrupted by the rage-shaken body turning back to the door. A paper bag was thrown at him, spilling his favorite power bars onto the bed. "Freeze!" Chris gritted, and the body jerked and froze. "Get your stubborn Texan ass over here." Vin reluctantly came back, pausing at the foot of the bed. He saw the dark circles, didn't miss the severe limping and recalled Buck saying Vin was throwing up. "Talk to me, Vin..." he said plainly, offering his unopened root beer.

Vin stared at the face and saw the green eyes soften in compassion and maybe a hint of understanding. He limped closer, wincing as his hip protested. He eyed the can suspiciously and wrinkled his nose. "...fwat?"

"No it's not flat," Chris retorted, "You got balls, you know that. Man offers his last root beer..."

"...nu wike woot beel..." Vin shot back, moving a step closer to the chair.

"Me not liking Root Beer is beside the point," the blond objected, "well?" The can lingered and Chris found a smile forming when the unsteady hand moved a little closer.

"...twuce?" Vin asked of the offering.

"Twuce," Chris repeated, grinning as the unmarred lip trying not to laugh. "You're losing, Tanner, might as well give it up...let it out..." he coached and rummaged through the power bars. "Wait a minute..." he chuckled and cocked his head, examining them closer. "Did you get these from my car? From the glove compartment? He a saw the marred lips jerk into a brief attempt at a smile. "Helluva gift..." he laughed, replacing them in the bag.

"...fawt dat conts..." Vin defended, over his hammering heart. "...bwoke..."

"They got an ATM machine in the lobby..." Chris answered the younger man with a grin.

"...no come empy hunded..." He scowled, reaching for the bag. "...give buck..."

"Give it back?" Chris's voice rose. "I bought the damn bars last week, no you can't have them back...Cheap son-of-a-bitch..." Chris grinned and saw Vin struggling not to join him. Then Vin hissed and grabbed his jaw.

"...hults...no muck fun...Wowabee..."

Chris couldn't help it and when his name came out twisted up, he laughed outright, relaxing as at last the injured sharpshooter sat down. He eyed the soda disappearing and settled back in his pillow.

"So how's Bug Bunny these days, Elmer?" He asked and smiled as the soda shot back out, all over Ezra's designer sweat shirt.

"...Cwis..." Vin choked, "...pwease...hults..."

"Sorry, Vin," Chris winced, watching at Vin clenched his eyes shut and held the cold can against his left jaw. He yawned and fought the wave of stupor, but lost.

Vin waited until Chris was fast asleep and stood up, walking to the window. He gave Chris his word and he meant it, not matter what it took, he would change. Nearly losing his best friend was a horrid wake-up call. Until he did that, the rift he still felt between them would exist. He couldn't get the words Chris screamed the day before from his brain, no matter how hard he tried. As four o'clock approached, he decided to head back to the ranch, his pain medication was overdue and his jaw, hip and side were pounding with fury. After hitting the ATM, he had a couple errands to run. He stood up, the rested his right hand on the cotton clad Larabee shoulder.

Chris felt the light touch and one eye opened a crack. His heavy head was full of muck and he couldn't fully rouse himself. He saw Vin had zipped his jacket and had keys in his hand.

"...heading out..." he croaked, fighting to stay awake.

"...yef..." Vin answered, "...be bock wader dis week..."

"Hmmm?" Chris sighed, trying to keep his eyes open. "Vin..." his hand shot up, offering in gesture what his foggy brain couldn't get his lips to say. He clasped the forearm with all he had and let the curtain drop.

"...pwahmis...Cwis...yuh no be assamed..." Vin throat tightened, "...pwoud cawl fwend 'gen..."

Somehow through the thick mud that filled Chris's head, those words came through like spring water. It took him several minutes to put them together and his eyes shot open.

"What the hell do you mean ashamed?" he hissed, pushing himself up on one elbow. "I am proud to call you friend...Vin...Vin...shit!" he swore at the empty room. As he settled back down, his handsome features were drawn and puzzled. "Dammit, Cowboy..." he flinched as the shaky lisp and tortured words combined with the swollen, battered face. He winced and rubbed his own chest, as that image pierced right through. The physical injuries would heal, but how could he help Vin's inner scars? What was the mystery still lurking in the bottomless blue eyes?

"Damn that smells good..." Nate tossed his coat on the chair by the kitchen door.

Josiah was stirring a large pot of spaghetti sauce. He turned and grinned, wagging his gray eyebrows. "It can make the blind see..."

"You're full of shit, Josiah..." the other chuckled, pulling a cold bottle of red wine from the bag he carried in and placing it on the table. Josiah took a large loaf of garlic bread from the oven and began to slice the aromatic toast.

"How's Vin?" the EMT asked, draining the linguini.

"Well," Josiah placed the hot bread on the table, next to the large tossed Caesar Salad. "I've seen low and he's way beyond that. He holed up in Chris's study...I'll go get him."

"You sure?" Nate frowned, "He loves pasta...don't seem fair, him not having any."

"He's got his own batch, nice and chilled. Orzo with butter and parmesan...with a pudding chaser." Josiah noted, pointing to the pasta chilling on the countertop. "I'll go hunt him up..."

It didn't take long for the large strides to reach the Larabee study, an architect's dream in western memorabilia. He entered the handsome room and paused over the slumbering body. Vin was asleep at Chris's desk. His head resting on his crossed arms. Josiah cocked his head and read the notes the younger man had written. Under his sleeve were lists of steps to remedy temper problems, printouts from the computer about road rage, highlighted in yellow, new books from a store in town on Anger Management and Self-control lessons. Also lying haphazardly were CD's with meditative music and one with Celtic flutes and harps. He saw Nate appear in the doorway and shushed him. The tall, dark man entered the room and smiled at the over-eager, exhausted student.

"He sure don't let moss grow under his feet..." Nate admired, eyeing the tools Vin chose.

"Gimme a minute," Josiah mused, rubbing his chin, "I want to talk to him...I got a friend that might help." He moved and picked up the cordless phone, "I ever tell you about Sandy McHugh?"

"McHugh..." Jackson furrowed his brows. "He's a professor or something in...in...New Mexico?"

"Yeah...near Eagle Nest Lake, beautiful town right near the mountains..." Josiah nodded, "I've known Sandy since the Army, over thirty years. He's good at this...if I'm not mistaken, he has seminars a couple times month for Anger Management and Stress Control."

"I'll turn the sauce down, take your time." Nate moved past the desk and paused, "He's pushing himself too hard...he's got healing to do and should have rested today. He's gonna feel it tomorrow," he fretted, resting a hand on Vin's back to gently wake him. "Maybe I can convince him to take a hot bath, that'll help..."

"You never invite me to take a hot bath," Josiah said solemnly, getting the number from information, "I think my feelings are hurt."

"That day ever comes," Nate laughed, "You can shoot me...You okay Vin?"

"...Nate..." Vin winced, sitting up to fast and having his hip, ribs and shoulder scream. "...ahhh..."

"Easy now," Nate coached, easing the smaller man upright, "...flex a little...you're stiff from sleepin'...After dinner, you take a nice hot bath...you'll loosen right up..."

"...tay..." Vin nodded, walking gingerly around the room.

"No, not yet," Nate put his hands up, "You wait here, Josiah wants to talk to you..."

"You've been busy," Josiah commented, eyeing the books, CD's and notes. "I wasn't prying..." He stated honestly and saw Vin nod and limp to join him. "This is a great step, Vin, and the hardest one. You identified the problem and accepted the realization that you need help to fix it. You done good, Son," he grinned and patted the sharpshooter's shoulder. "But it's not a quick fix, it takes continual measures and exercises, staying on the right track once you find it...I think I can help you with that path, Vin. I have a friend, Sandy McHugh, we joined the Army the same day, I've known him over thirty years. He's a fine man, a professor down in New Mexico. Twice a month, he offers seminars in Anger Management. If you'd like, I can call and talk to him..."

"...cwasses..."

"Yeah, like uh..." Josiah walked to the computer and pulled the internet up. "He has a website...I bet the classes are listed. There..." He patted the chair and Vin hobbled over and sat down. "Look at that," the graying agent read over Vin's curly head, "It says in the mission statement that their goal is to provide a structured, hands-on approach to teach anger management and control. It will show you the steps to take in identifying the problem and what techniques to help you cope with the stress control. Sound good?"

"...yef..." Vin lisped, his good eye wide in anticipation, he moved the mouse over the word 'courses' and eyed the list. He felt his dying flame of hope flicker and strengthen, as his eyes picked out several from the long list. The rules of anger management, defense mechanisms, identifying the problem of Road Rage and how to conquer it..."

"...wode wage..." he turned to Josiah who nodded . He cast his eye back on the screen and continued to scan. Identifying if you are an 'imploder or exploder', keeping a journal, the wheels of emotion, understanding anger and charting your own anger scale. He stopped midway through the list and looked back at the phone. "...'siah...hulp..."

"I was just waiting for you to ask, Vin," the older man said warmly, squeezing the back of Vin's neck. "I'll call Sandy and find out when the next seminar is, they usually only last a few days. You ever been near Eagle Nest?" He asked and saw Vin screw his face up in thought. "North Central New Mexico, near the Sangre De Cristo Mountains..."

Vin shrugged and thought for a moment more, "...montins...westful..."

"Yeah, that's one reason why Sandy holds the seminars in Eagle Nest. It's a beautiful little spot. You can stay in town or outside in a cabin..." He saw Vin's eyes perk up and grinned, "Yeah, that's what I thought, Nature Boy..."

Vin grinned and continued to read about the seminar courses, exercises and high success rate. For the first time since that beat up car shoved it's way in his path, he felt hopeful. He did a search on Eagle Nest and saw pictures of the pretty, mountainside town. He looked up at Josiah's deep voice broke the stillness. He pointed to the bathroom and saw Josiah nod. He limped out of the room, as the other began his conversation.

"Damn you're getting old, Sandy..." Josiah smiled, "I'm good...how you doing? Am I married yet? Hell no!" The eldest boomed, "How's Annie...that's great...five grandchilden! Damn impressive, Sandy...Listen I have a favor...when is your next seminar?" The smile split his face and he nodded, writing down dates. "Great...about that favor," he eyed the doorway and thought of the dejected, beat up soul. "His name is Vin Tanner, he's special Sandy...he needs help." Josiah spent a few minutes giving the instructor details on the accident and on Vin. "I can't thank you enough...Best man at my wedding?" Josiah laughed at the other man's request. "You got it...Can you get him a cabin outside town? You sure? No, he don't care if it's old and beat up, that's right up his alley. Tuesday...he'll be there. I'll bring him down. Yeah, it'll be good to see you too. Thanks Sandy."

Vin walked into the room as Josiah was ending his call. The older man turned to him and gave the thumbs up.

"...wem mext semimmar..." Vin's anxious voice inquired.

"Is next Tuesday soon enough?"

"...weelwe?" Vin's eyes widened, as Josiah nodded.

"You're all set. Sandy's got an old cabin he doesn't use anymore outside town. Said you can stay there, just bring your own linens and food. It's about a mile's walk to the lodge where the classes are every day. I'll take you down on Monday and get you settled in, they last three days." Josiah walked around the desk and headed for the door. He clapped a hand on Vin's shoulder, "Come on, Vin, I'm starving..."

Vin's nose tilted as they got closer to the kitchen. Something teased him with scents of hot garlic bread and meatballs and sausage in simmering sauce.

"...puthetti?" His voice rose as the aroma assaulted him.

"Got yours all ready," Nate grinned, shoving the bowl of cold orzo's and a protein shake at the now silent sniper. "...even made you an appetizer..." he popped the lid off of carmel-chocolate pudding. The dark-skinned agent laughed outright at the Tanner nose wrinkling and the face turning into a scowl.

"...ffufck..." Vin slumped in the chair, ducking as Josiah's large hand ruffled his hair.

"Now now..." the ex-preacher used a mock-stern tone, "watch that mouth..."

"Don't worry, Vin," Nate said, pouring the steaming sauce over a bowl of linguini. "I can put some leftovers in the blender for you..."

"...puthetti thake..." Vin's nose wrinkled again and he reached for a spoon.

"Here you go," Josiah said, handing him the implement.

"...fanks..." Vin said, taking the spoon and then the large hand, "...'siah...ful hulpin'..."

"You're welcome, Vin," Josiah smiled and sat down. They talked quietly about Vin's upcoming trip and each man expressed to the injured one, how proud they were of him and encouraged him to do his best. Nathan couldn't help noticing Vin wincing and shifting in his chair. Finally, the bowl of orzo was completed and the Texan stood, then hissed, his hand flying wildly.

"That hip givin' you fits?" Nate guessed, steadying the slim man. "Come on...I got some salts I can put in the bath. Then you're takin' your medicine and gettin' to bed. You pushed yourself too hard..."

Josiah cleaned up the dishes and made dessert, taking it into the den. Nate joined in and picked up a dish of vanilla ice cream, which was covered with creme de menthe.

"Cigar?" Josiah asked, nodding to the box nearby.

"Maybe later," Nate replied, looking back at the door where Vin was soaking in a steaming tub. "I sure hope your friend can help him. I've never seen him so low...I can't help think there's something else botherin' him."

"Yeah, I got that impression, too," Josiah concurred. "There was parking stub from the hospital in the trash can in the kitchen..."

"Well that explains it," Nate sighed, dipping his spoon in the minty creation. "You think Chris let into him?"

"I don't know..." the reply came, "but I have every confidence in that boy. He'll do fine at that seminar. Sandy's course is sought out by customers all over the country. He's that good..."

"Maybe it would be a good idea for Vin to get down there early," Nate thought aloud, "He takes to mountains and streams like fish to water. Might put him in the right mood..."

"Yeah, " Josiah agreed, "I'll talk to him about it...maybe I head down there with him on Saturday."

As the flames danced in the fireplace, the two old friends grew silent, each sipping coffee and pondering on the path their young friend was undertaking.

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