Standard disclaimer: the characters actually belong to a large organisation. The AU universe of the Magnificent Seven team in the 21^st century, was I believe, created by Mog, and the Little Britches ATF by Barbretta H..

Rating: PG-13, I guess, there’s a little bit of bad language, h/c, angst, action, thriller and happy endings. Primarily, Vin, Chris and Ezra with a goodly amount of Buck.

Acknowledgments: Marnie and Cindy were kind enough to beta the fic. Their advice and edits were invaluable, and in light of their comments I have made changes. Any errors belong solely to me.

I have retained English English spelling rather than converting to American English spelling. Effort has been made, however, to map to idiom and American word usage e.g. torch/flashlight et cetera, and nobody asks for a delightful cup of tea or wears a woolly jumper.

Comments? Email: sealie@trickster.org

Courtesy Gibbous

By Sealie

Part One

Chris totalled the column of figures in his head and came out with the same results as the computer spreadsheet. It was always best, in his opinion, to double check figures, especially when they related to the budget

He wrote the figure down on his hard copy and then copied the figure over to the summary spreadsheet. He wasn’t paid enough for this, especially on a Saturday.

“You okay, pard?”

“Yep.”

The sound of scribbling filled his ears. Chris pushed back slightly on his chair. Vin was happily ensconced in the footwell under his table. Ezra, displaying his lack of uncle-experience, a few weeks ago had given the seven year old a high quality sketch pad and a variety of professional B, HB and H, soft to hard, grade pencils in a wooden box. Crayons and a colouring book would have been a bit more practical, Chris thought. Vin had settled under the table and began drawing. He seemed quite taken with the different grades of pencil and was trying each one individually. The effect was quite surreal like a photo negative of a sunset.

He wasn’t too sure why Vin had chosen to play under the desk, his child psychologist would probably pull all sorts of reasons out. Chris thought that it was comfortable.

Vin twisted on his butt and held out the paper for Chris to view.

“Each pencil draws differently.”

“Yeah, you can use them to shade.”

“Shade?”

“It’s probably easier to show.” Chris pushed back his chair and joined Vin on the floor. “You got another piece of paper?”

The thrifty child turned over his masterpiece and offered the other side.

Chris drew a circle freehand. “What’s this?”

“It’s a circle.” Vin sat on his heels and wrapped his arms around his bare knees.

“K.” Chris rifled through the pencils and pulled out a soft tipped 2B. Carefully he drew a thin, dark line at the five to six o’clock position on the circle. Swapping the soft tipped 2B for a B pencil, he drew --shading a blob outside the dark line creating a shadow. Taking a lighter 2H, began to shade inside the circle from three to seven o’clock using his thumb to stop the lines going outside the circle. “What’s it now?”

“It’s a ball,” Vin said breathlessly, and Chris was suitably rewarded by his awe. “How did you do that?”

“Shading.” Chris pointed to the shadow under the ball. “The shading makes you think that the picture has depth.” He reached up and pulled down his desk lamp to their level.

“You want a ball?” Vin asked reading Chris’ mind. He scrambled to his feet and darted out of Chris’ office to get the nerf ball from Buck’s desk. He was back a heartbeat later.

Chris accepted the ball with a smile. He sat the ball beside the light and switched it on.

“See the shadow?”

“Yep.”

“I drew that and made the picture look real – more real. Realer?”

“More real,” a familiar voice supplied laconically.

Chris spun on his butt to glare up at his undercover agent.

“Uncle Ez,” Vin said, smiling. “Look, Chris can draw.”

“What are you doing here--” Chris made a production of looking at his watch, “--on Saturday morning?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You could, but I’m the boss.”

“Ah.” Erza tugged at his shirt cuff. “I am missing a cufflink which has some sentimental importance. I had hoped to find it here before the cleaners descend on Monday morning. Imagine my surprise when I saw Master Tanner, apparently on his own, in the office.”

“We was drawing.”

“Were drawing,” Ezra corrected.

“Were drawing,” Vin echoed. “You want me to help you look for your thingy?”

“Why thank you, Vin, that would be appreciated.”

“I’ll be back, Chris.” Vin patted Chris on his shoulder and then scrambled to his feet. “What are we looking for? Why do you think you lost it here?”

“You’ve obviously been taking interrogation lessons from your…” Ezra hunted for the appropriate noun. He shot an uncharacteristically unsure glance at his superior. “Foster father.”

Chris supposed he hadn’t really laid it down in stone what his role was in Vin’s life to his team. He was leery of using the ‘dad’ word and his empathic undercover agent had picked up on that unease.

Ezra was showing Vin a cufflink, Vin seemed quite intrigued and was checking out Ezra’s cuffs.

“Buttons work better,” was his considered opinion.

“Perhaps they are more efficient. But they lack style.”

Vin looked down at his white button t-shirt, navy shorts, socks and sneakers. “Is this stylish?”

“Style, Master Tanner, belongs to oneself. You have your own style. I think that the Shrek band-aid on your knee has a certain savoir faire.”

“What’s save..save…?”

“Savoir faire is knowledge of how to behave in any situation. It pertains to style. A person with savoir faire has style.”

“You use big words on purpose, don’t you?”

Chris shook his head in fond amusement. Vin had his own style and Ezra had his style – together they certainly had style. He returned to his statistics, keeping one eye on his ward and agent. Vin was standing on Buck’s table scrutinizing the floor from his new vantage point as Ezra retraced his day.

~*~

“Found it!” Vin wriggled backwards out from under Josiah’s desk. He held it up exultantly.

“Excellent, Mr. Tanner.”

Vin handed it across. “It’s important, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my great grandfather, a cantankerous old gentleman of the fifth degree, gave me these cufflinks.”

“Do you like him?” Vin said getting straight to the heart of the matter.

“I liked him very much.”

Vin sagged reading the past tense accurately. “‘Am glad I found it.”

“Thank you for finding it. You have sharp eyes.”

“How old was ya?”

“Sorry?” Ezra paused in returning his cufflink to its velvet lined box.

“When your grandpa died?”

“Somewhat older than you are now. I believe I was eleven.”

“And he gave you cufflinks?”

“I received the cufflinks when I was nine.” Ezra smiled thinly. “They were a present that I had to grow into. A ZX-81 might have been more fun but the cufflinks are of greater value. Actually, the ZX-81 would have been a good investment. But I digress, the cufflinks are perfect.”

“I’m glad I found them, then.”

“As am I, perhaps an ice cream is in order to celebrate.”

“At your swanky place?”

“Yes, at Donatello’s Emporium.”

Vin lit up like the Fourth of July. “Can Chris come?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

Vin shot off as if fired from a cannon. “Chris, Chris, you wanna go for ice cream?”

Ezra craned his head to see into the superior’s office. Chris had an open smile on his face as Vin inveigled him to join them on their trip to the ice cream parlor. Prior to Vin’s appearance in their lives, smiles were not on the agenda and Ezra knew that he would not have gone anywhere on a social event with his boss without his other team members.

Vin rocked from foot to foot as Chris shut down his computer. Seeing agreement, Ezra collected his jacket and shrugged into it.

“Coffee, Ezra?” Chris asked.

“Yes, Mr. Donatello makes the finest Italian coffee in addition to ice cream creations including his world famous Knickerbocker Glory.”

“Which is?” Chris queried.

“An imported speciality of fruits, syrups, cream, ice cream.”

“I don’t think that Vin will go for that.”

~*~

Both adults could see that Vin was in a happy place. He hadn’t been too enthusiastic about the knickerbocker glory and its fruit base. The boy wanted chocolate. Eric Donatello had succumbed to a quiet request for the chocolate sundae but could he please not have the vanilla ice cream with the chocolate ice cream ‘cos the vanilla is a bit strange tasting and I really like chocolate and you’ve got lots of different types of chocolate and if the chocolate sundae comes with vanilla ice creams it’s not really chocolate sundae and I can’t try the other chocolate ice creams that are behind the counter if the chocolate sundae has vanilla in.

Ezra had been moderately impressed by the logic and the hitherto unknown eloquence of Master Tanner. The ice cream that Eric had delivered to their table had one small scoop of each chocolate flavour that was created in the store. Chocolate, chocolate with chocolate chips, mint choc chip, white chocolate with honeycomb, drizzled with rich chocolate syrup and dotted with maltesers. The child actually hummed contentedly as he dug in. Erza shared a smirk with Chris. They were content with espresso and almond biscotti.

Vin scraped the bottom of the dish and then, after glancing sideways at his guardian, resorted to using his finger to chase after the final dregs of chocolate syrup. Once every iota of chocolate had been hunted down and captured he settled back with a happy burp.

“Vin,” Chris said lowly.

“Excuse me.” Vin grinned unrepentantly.

“Go wash your hands.”

“’K, Chris.” He slithered out of the booth and scampered to the men’s room.

“Hmmm, I think that that was a success,” Ezra observed.

“You really can’t go wrong with Vin and chocolate,” Chris said.

Ezra drummed his fingers on the table as he mulled over his next words. He smiled inwardly at the uncharacteristic display of unease.

“If you need to return to work, I would be happy to take Vin to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. There is a display of Prehistoric Monsters from the Sea which I believe would appeal.”

Chris leaned back in the booth. “No, I’ve finished, but that sounds like something that Vin would appreciate. At the Museum of Nature and Science, right?”

“Yes, prehistoric dinosaurs and other animals which were predators during the Triassic, Jurassic, Cretaceous and other eras. It will also be educational.”

“Monsters, blood and gore, eh?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Vin walked out of the bathroom but made a detour to speak to Mr. Donatello, thanking him for the world’s bestest ice cream.

“That sounds like something that something that Vin will enjoy.”

“Do you require directions?”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Ah. Yes. I am. But we have two cars.”

High on a sugar rush, Vin bounced over with a spring in his step.

“Would you like to go to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, Vin?” Chris asked.

Vin looked left then right at the two adults. “What’s that?”

Somewhat nonplussed, Ezra finally spoke. “It has displays for you to look and play with.”

“Displays of what?”

Impressed by the desire to know everything before committing himself, Ezra answered, “Dinosaurs.”

“Dinos’urs!” Vin’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. We looked at them at school. They were great.”

“Okay.” Chris stood and Vin was to the door before he could shift out of the booth. “Vin!”

“Vin,” Ezra called simultaneously.

Vin scampered out onto the sidewalk. A figure on the other side of the door tangled up with him and both went down, falling out of sight. A heartbeat later, both men burst through the door.

Vin lay sprawled, flat out on his back. A lady sat beside him, one leg twisted under her.

Chris’ attention was solely on his foster child, he dropped to his knees beside Vin. “Don’t move.”

“Chris!” Vin sat up.

“Your back; don’t move.”

Ezra moved to the brunette’s side. “Are you injured, ma’am?”

“The little boy? Is he okay?”

Ezra spun on his heels. Chris was carefully helping Vin to his feet, guiding his movements with the utmost care. Vin was chaffing under his ministrations insisting that he was fine.

“Vin has something of a bad back. My friend is merely ensuring that he has not hurt himself. And yourself?”

The woman shifted carefully straightening her leg. She hissed with pain.

“Ma’am.”

Her face creased up. She rotated her ankle, hissing all the while.

“Ma’am.”

“I just twisted it, I think. Help me up, please.” Gripping on to his forearm, the woman stood. She tested her ankle before setting it on the sidewalk. “Oh.”

Ezra smiled winsomely, seeing lawyers and injury claims in Chris and Vin’s future. “Allow me to take you to the E.R.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. It’s not too bad.” She smiled, and Ezra watched her lower her lashes demurely. “And you are?”

“Ezra Standish at your service, ma’am.”

“Ella Gaines!”

Ezra spun on his superior.

“Chris!” she gushed.

“Ah.” Ezra looked between them as if watching a tennis match. Chris held Vin against his hip and regarding the woman with something close to consternation, but tinged with happy memories. The woman, Ella, shrugged Ezra off and limped over to Chris.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you for over a year.” She flung her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

Chris was an icicle for a moment and then he relaxed into the caress, releasing Vin and entangling his fingers in the woman’s dark hair. Ezra was somewhat impressed by the degree of tonsil hockey going on. Vin backed off shuffling to Ezra’s side.

“I think Mr. Chris knows the lady.”

“I think you’re right.” Neither of the pair were coming up for air.

The display went on. Vin shifted at Ezra’s side.

“How long are they gonna do that for?” he finally whispered, loudly.

“They will run out of air eventually,” Ezra said clinically and mentally began counting.

Vin let out a heavy sigh, and then tugged Ezra’s sleeve.

“Yes, Vin?”

“What time does the museum close?”

Ezra contained a smile by pure force of effort. “Not until much later – we have plenty of time.”

Vin let out another, heavier, louder sigh and it finally reached his guardian. Chris disengaged and blinked slyly as the woman tucked an escaped curl behind her ear.

“How are you doing, Chris?” she drawled.

“Very, very well.” He smiled. “How are you, Ella?”

“All the better for seeing you,” she said coyly. “So are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Chris, still looking a bit sandbagged, turned. “Ella, this is Vin, my foster son, and my friend and colleague, Ezra Standish.”

“Ma’am.” Erza glided forwards and caught her outstretched hand. He bowed over it, and delicately kissed the back. “At your service.”

“Why YOU are a gentleman.” Her smile grew and she turned her attention to Vin.

“Hello,” Vin whispered, as he darted behind Chris shifting out of view.

Charitably, Chris allowed Vin to stay out of sight of the woman. Ella raised a finely plucked eyebrow in question. Chris shook his head.

Vin tugged on the back of Chris’ slacks. “Can we go?”

“Ssssh, Vin,” Chris soothed, smiling down at him. “Be polite – we’ll go soon, I promise.”

Vin moved to Chris’ side to semi-glare at the interloper.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Vin. And I’m sorry for banging into you. Are you okay?”

Vin nodded, long hair falling in his eyes.

“Where are you going?”

Van glanced mutely at Chris asking him for help. Chris nudged him, directing the shy child to answer.

“We’re going to see the dinosaurs at the museum.”

“Dinosaurs? Where are they from?”

Vin shrugged.

“It’s a travelling exhibit on a world tour consisting of ‘Sea Monsters from the Deep’ – dinosaurs from the marine environment, pre-historic giant sharks and the ilk.”

“It’s sounds interesting.”

“You’re welcome to come, Ella. It would be nice to catch up.” Chris didn’t react when Vin grabbed his thigh.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t I have a business meeting in the Crawford Tower in forty minutes.” She rifled through her patent black leather purse. She pulled out a black and gold embossed card. “This is my number, Chris; give me a call I would love to, you know, connect.”

“Thanks.” A slight blush touched Chris’ fair cheeks as he handed over his own formal ATF card.

“Are we going now, Chris?”

“Vin,” he chastised, “that’s not very polite.”

Vin hung his head. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay, you want to spend time with your,” Ella stared at Chris, “guardian?”

Chris nodded sharply. “Yes, I’m fostering. Vin gets to stay with me, aren’t you, Cowboy?”

“Yeah, Mr. Chris,” Vin said brightly. “Forever.”

Chris ruffled Vin’s long curls. “Forever.”

Ezra watched as was his wont. The woman leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Chris’ cheek, and whispered a sultry goodbye. She spared no glance for Vin or himself – focussed on Chris.

“I have to run.” She sashayed off.

Vin slid a foot in the direction of the parked cars, eagerness vibrating through him. Monsters were a great attraction.

“Okay,” Chris said.

Vin shot off, racing to the cars.

“Vin!”

Vin skidded to a stop. Turning he scowled. His body language screaming ‘what now?’

“No running on the sidewalk,” Chris ordered.

“Why?” he held his hands out underscoring his frustration.

“What if you fall into the traffic? You don’t run on the sidewalk. Okay?”

“Okay.” Vin jiggled from foot to foot. “Are we going?”

“Yeah, we’re going.”

Vin half skipped, half jumped to Chris’s big SVU. He stood beside his side, waiting for Chris to open the vehicle.

Chris clicked the unit on his key ring and the doors unlocked. “Okay, Ezra, we’ll see you at the museum.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

~*~

“We saw orthocones, they’s giant squids. They’s great. They grabbed their prey wif their tentables and rip them apart. They’s bigger than sperm whales. And then we saw a Liopleurodon, they’re from the late Jurassic, that’s 160-155 million years, which is like older than anything ever. It’s the biggest, bestest, most greatest predator ever. They’s like giant crocodiles but they have flippers. And we saw a megalodon, they’re bigger than Jaws, they’d gobble us up whole. Gnash. Gnash. Gnash.” Vin mimicked the attacking jaws with his arms.

Buck stood stock still, awed by the display.

Chris chortled under his breath as he crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a micro-brew.

“Where have you been, son?”

“Me and Chris and Ezra went to the Denver-Museum-of-Nature-and-Science,” Vin said sing song. “We saw the ‘Sea Monsters from the Deep’. They’s were great.”

Vin bolted off to tell J.D. all about it.

Theatrically, Buck staggered and fell against the kitchen counter. “What hit me?”

Chris handed over a beer. “A Sea Monster from the Deep called Vin.”

“Did ya have a good time?

Chris could only shake his head fondly.

“That good, eh?”

“Who knew that he would love dinosaurs so much? Did you hear him? He knows the names of every marine dinosaur and reptile that we saw, their ecology and life history. They had video and those interactive educational displays, he needed a little help, but you show him once and then he got it, memorised it and categorised it.”

“You think we could go again and take J.D.?”

“Just don’t give him sugar for a couple of days before.”

“Amen, brother.”

Buck and Chris knocked their beers together.

End part one

~*~

Part two

Life was good. A major operation with over six days of long days and nights had culminated in a perfect take down. Chris dotted the ‘i’s’ and crossed the‘t’s’ on the summary report. Travis would be pleased. This was worthy of a celebration. Perhaps Mrs. Potter could baby-sit for a couple of more hours so that the team could take a post mission trip to Inez’s? He would have to toss with Buck to see who would drive but if he borrowed Ezra’s double headed dollar piece…

The phone ringing jarred him out of his nice contemplations. He didn’t recognise the caller ID.

“Agent Larabee.”

“Chris,” Ella breathed.

“Oh, hi, I meant to return your phone call, but we’ve had a…” Chris began to apologise.

“I understand, Chris; I saw the news. Is everyone okay? You still work with Buck, yes?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

“Perfect. How about a meal to celebrate this evening?”

“You know, that sounds like a damn good idea.”

“How about Rossilli’s?” Ella said, naming a high priced, but excellent, restaurant on the other side of town.

Chris leaned back in his chair. He still wanted to celebrate with his team. He could have one beer at Inez’s and then have a good meal before driving home a few hours later. It would mean leaving his SUV outside Inez’s and grabbing a taxi across town.

“Are you at the Crawford Tower?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“I’ve got a few things to finish up here. How about the Fisherman’s Lodge? That’s half way between our building and the Tower.” The restaurant was upmarket, but not as high priced as Rossilli’s – he had two foster children and mortgage to consider.

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Ella?”

“Sorry, my pager beeped. That sounds lovely. What time?”

“Seven?”

Again there was silence, then she spoke, “Seven it is.”

~*~

The house was in darkness so Chris crept. What a perfect end to a perfect day, he mused. Hyperaware of all noises, he was extra careful as he slowly turned the key in the lock. The house felt peaceful and he could hear Sarah’s rocking chair creaking. Hollowness touched him just for a heartbeat – that sound echoed through his life spelling comfort tinged with loss. He tiptoed to the living room. The television was on, sending low light into the darkened room.

“Hey, stud,” Buck whispered from the chair. “Did you have a good evening?” Toe on the floor, his friend gently rocked the chair back and forth. Wrapped in the sweater that Buck had been wearing earlier, Vin was snug on his lap, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, deep in the Land of Nod.

Chris essayed a rich smile at the sight. “He seemed all right with me when I spoke on the phone.” When they spoke on the phone at five (in the office); six-thirty (with hellos from the rest of the team); eight (during dessert to share chocolate experiences) and half an hour later, just before Vin went to bed.

“He was being brave,” Buck said. He shrugged infinitesimally. “I mean, yeah, he was okay – but, you know.”

Yes, Chris knew, but their child psychologist said that they needed to sometimes rock the boat just slightly.

“When did he wake up?”

“About half an hour after he went to bed. I don’t think he was awake, he was sort of sleepwalking. He just wandered in, looked around – looking for you. I turned the television down. He stopped by the rocking chair and just stood next to it. I asked him if he wanted a drink of juice and he just stood there. I sat in the chair and he clambered onto my lap and flopped. Kinda nice, really.” Buck smiled dotingly down at Vin.

Unconscious trust was better than nice it was perfect.

“You want to put him to bed? Or shall I?” Chris asked.

“Nah, I’ll do it, if he wakes now, he’ll see you.” Buck stood smoothly with a supportive hand at his elbow.

They got Vin to his bedroom without any incident. As Buck settled him in the top bunk, Chris re-covered JD with his kicked off blankets, knowing that in half an hour or so their whirlwind would kick off his blankets again. JD might not like his brushed cotton footie pjs but they kept him warm through his nightly adventures. As he brushed a light kiss on JD’s forehead, Buck tucked Vin and Cat snugly in.

“A-okay?” asked Chris

“Yup.”

They swapped places. Vin shifted, drawing into a tight curl around his soft toy. Chris gently stroked Vin’s blond curls. Judging from the photographs that they had seen of Vin’s mother eventually his hair would darken as he grew older, but now they shared the same bright hair, like father and son.

“Be happy, kid.”

~*~

The sounds of life woke Chris from the deepest, most comfortable sleep he had had in an age. Stretching in the double bed, he felt his bones turn to liquid. Completely relaxed he lay there, revelling in the luxury of freshly laundered sheets and a security in life which he had never expected to feel again.

He lay there relaxing into the zone, aware of the life around him, but nicely disconnected. A lifetime passed and he knew that he had fallen asleep before he woke again.

“You going to lay about all day in bed?” Buck boomed.

“Eh?”

“There’s coffee and bacon and French toast on the table. You going to get up? It’s too nice to be laying around in bed.”

Chris struggled to sit upright.

“You all right, Stud?”

Chris rubbed his stubbly chin. Buck stood in the doorway watching him. “Yeah, I slept like the veritable log. I feel great.”

“You gonna get up or stay in bed?”

“I’m starving.”

“Good thing there’s food on the table.”

Chris kicked off his covers and without changing or hitting the bathroom staggered into the kitchen to feed his stomach.

“Saturday, you working?” Buck said in familiar shorthand.

“No, you?”

“All done and dusted on Friday.”

“Ranch?” Chris asked as he dug into the crispy bacon.

“Saw to the horses several hours ago,” he said pointedly.

“Hmmm, day off then.”

“You fancy a bar-be-cue?”

“Forecast?”

“Good.”

“Bar-be-cue it is.”

“Excellent.” Chris shovelled a forkful of eggs and bread into his mouth. Around the generous mouthful, he said, “Where’s the kids?”

“Watching cartoons.”

Stocking feet padded down the hall and Vin traipsed into view. He was still in his soft pyjamas. Buck’s sweater hung on his scrawny frame, sleeves hanging well past his hands and collar falling over one shoulder.

“Hi, Chris,” he smiled luminously.

“Hi, Cowboy. Not dressed yet?”

Vin cocked his head to the side. “No,” he reported.

Chris shook his head in affectionate humour. Vin trotted over to Buck at the stove. Enticing scents of cooking bacon filled the kitchen. Vin waited patiently at his side staring up at the large man.

“What do you want, Scrappy?”

“That stuff was nice. Can we have some more?”

“Oh, you liked the bacon or my special egg bread?”

“Yeah.” Vin stood on his tiptoes and peered into the skillet. “You’re making more.”

“Guess I knew that you’d come when you smelled it.”

“We had breakfast hours and hours ago.” He quivered his bottom lip and made a credible impression of Oliver Twist.

Buck laughed heartily. “It will be ready in two secs.”

“How long’s that?”

“A minute.” Buck dipped the bread in some beaten egg.

“We were thinking of having a bar-be-cue this afternoon,” Chris told Vin. “We’ll ask the guys over.”

“Uncle Ezra, Uncle Josiah and Uncle Nathan?”

“And maybe Mrs. Potter and her kids. Auntie Rain might be able to come. I don’t think that she’s working this weekend.”

“She’s not.” Buck plonked a plate of egg fried bread and bacon on the table. “See if JD wants a second breakfast, will you, Vin?”

“K.” Vin beetled off.

Chris snagged a piece of particularly crispy bacon. “Is there coffee?”

“How tired are you?” Buck asked, but he grabbed a mug and filled it with freshly perked coffee.

Vin and JD ran into the kitchen, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor.

“Hi, Chris.” JD barrelled into Chris’ side, snuggling in for a hug. He squeezed Chris tightly for a short time for an adult but lifetime to a kid and then dove into the bacon. “Vin sez we’re going to have a bar-be?”

“The weather’s nice. It’s a Saturday and we don’t have to work this weekend. Let’s have a party.”

“Party!” JD cheered.

~*~

“What ya doin’?” JD asked Nathan who was leaning over the bar-be-cue. “You’re not supposed to touch the grill without the special hat and that’s Buck’s hat.”

“He’s got special permission,” Buck yelled over from where he reclined on the grass on one of the boys’ floor pillows. Nathan might have permission but Buck hadn’t given up his ‘kiss the cook’ hat.

“I’m making dessert, JD.”

“Is it good for us?” asked JD suspiciously.

Snorts and laughs echoed around the yard. Nathan threw a good natured scowl at his colleagues and friends. “I’m baking bananas with honey and nuts.”

“Bacon, we had bacon for brekkie,” JD protested.

“No, little bit.” Nathan chortled. “I’m baking, it’s a way of cooking. I’ve wrapped…”

“I’ve wrapped?” Rain interrupted from the deck where she was keeping out of the late afternoon sun.

“Auntie Rain was kind enough, because she’s a lovely person, to lovingly wrap bananas in foil after she’d drizzled them with honey (that she bought herself at the store) and finely chopped nuts (nuts that she had chopped herself to ensure that little boys would be able to eat them).”

“Thank you, honey.” Rain toasted him with her mint julep.

“Oh, you are so…” Buck started to say, but Chris lobbed a raw carrot crudité at his head, “happily married.”

“Is it going to be nice?” JD asked.

“It’s one of my favourite desserts.” Nathan leaned down and tapped JD’s upturned nose. “Once it’s cooked you drizzle the bananas with chocolate syrup.”

“Oh, that’s okay then.” Happy now JD ran off to join Vin who was crouched at the edge of the yard by the corral scrutinising something on the ground.

“What are they looking at?” Josiah leaned forward on his deck chair.

At his side, Chris puffed happily on a cheroot. “Don’t know – something gross probably.”

“Delightful,” Ezra drawled and shuffled further back into the softness of his padded deck chair.

Vin flopped onto his stomach, an action which defied any existence of a bad back, to better study whatever they were looking at. JD sprawled on top of Vin and peered over his shoulder.

“You seem content, Chris,” Josiah commented.

“Been a good, but tiring, week. Good food, good beer, good company, what more could a man ask for?”

Josiah simply knocked his bottle against Chris’ in salutation.

The phone rang inside the ranch. Chris rose from his contented slouch and moseyed into the house through the kitchen door. Ezra also stood, but sauntered over to the boys. Pulling on his smart dress slacks to maintain the creases, he squatted down to better see what had the boys so enthralled. Josiah looked left, looked right at the empty deckchairs. He’d been abandoned, he almost sniffed. Rain settled next to him.

“What’s got the boys’ interest?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be that horrible or Ezra would have come back.”

“You know Nathan said that the boys have been good for Chris and Buck, but I think that they’ve been good for all of us, especially Ezra.”

“He does seem to have discovered new joie de vie.”

“He’s thrown himself into the Uncle business. He’s certainly got the spoiling the nephews down pat.”

The threesome stood and eyes fixed firmly on the ground began to follow a meandering line alongside the corral.

“Ants,” Buck judged.

“What?” Josiah said for all of them.

“They’re following a line of ants.”

“Fire ants? They’re dangerous,” Nathan said.

“Vin knows what fire ants look like and knows better than to touch them. They’ll just be, I guess, common garden ants.”

Chris sauntered onto the deck, cell phone at his ear, his brow furrowed at the sight of Ezra, JD and Vin doggedly picking their way across the corral field. Peso and Pony were watching them curiously but continued munching on grass.

“Sorry, got distracted,” he said into the phone. “Continue down I-25, at the junction past Longmont, hang a left. Go through Four Corners, about hundred yards outside the town you’ll see a sign on your right for the ‘Highlight Stables’, continue past that…” Chris wandered out of earshot.

“Sounds like we’re going to have another visitor.” Buck sat up.

“Someone who doesn’t know the way to the ranch,” Josiah judged.

“Ah.” Buck twirled his moustache Machiavellianly.

“Buck?” Nathan asked.

Buck all but smirked. “Chris came in pretty late last night and he seemed pretty pleased with himself.”

“Ah,” all said.

~~*~

“Where they going?” JD asked as they traipsed along.

“Where are they going,” Ezra corrected.

“Where are they going?” JD stressed the ‘are’ heavily.

“They’re going to their new home,” Vin said.

“How do you know?” JD demanded.

“Saw it on Animal Planet. They were bigger ants but I guess it’s all the same. You sees those white pieces of rice?”

“Yeah,” JD bent over double to squint at the new mystery.

“Those are eggs, I reckon.”

“Babies?”

Vin glanced at Ezra. “I believe that I saw the same programme and, yes, those white grains are eggs from which young ants will hatch.”

“Perhaps we better not disturb them?” JD mused.

“We’re just following.” Vin loped ahead, eagle eyes easily spotting the ants amid the stalks of grass.

JD pushed a warm, damp paw into Ezra’s hand and pulled him along. They followed the trail to the edge of the corral. Vin easily scaled the fence and dropped to the other side. JD simply ducked under it. Ezra paused a moment, reflecting on the pristine condition of his casual trousers and polo shirt then clambered over. The boys were now out of the area where Chris let them roam freely. The meadow curved down into a copse of trees through which the small creek that edged Chris’ property trickled. Water and boys were a volatile mix, and both had been instructed not to play in the creek on pain of month long groundings and other dire reprisals. Vin’s head jerked up and he unerringly honed in on Chris standing like a dark shadow on the deck. Evidently reassured, Vin scampered into the stand of trees, JD on his heels. Ezra raised his arm and Chris waved back at him.

It was cooler under the trees, and the light was tinged with a soothing green. Small figures darted through the undergrowth. JD’s bright red t-shirt stood out like a flag as he struggled keep up with the fleet of foot older boy.

“Don’t get too far ahead,” Ezra warned.

Vin whooped and dropped to the ground. Ezra shivered, not knowing what manner of creepy crawlies abounded in the woods. Gingerly, he picked his way over a fallen tree to the boys’ side wondering about scorpions and snakes and tigers. Amidst the bracken, branches, tree roots and stones was a dark hole under a rotting log. The ants were crawling into the hole.

“They’ve found their home,” JD exulted.

Ezra basked in their happiness. Vin dropped a twig in front of the line and watched as the ants struggled to overcome the obstacle.

“Vin,” JD protested.

Acquiescing, Vin removed the barrier. “It was an experiment. I wasn’t going to leave it.”

“You know.” Ezra settled on his haunches. “I do believe that you can build ant farms.”

Vin rolled onto his side. “A farm for ants?”

“Not with fences and barns. You build a box made out of glass and fill it with soil. The ants build a home.”

“Is it cruel?” Vin asked.

That threw Ezra for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Aren’t they used to being outside?”

“P’raphs we can--” JD’s brow furrowed, “--re… res…research it at school?”

“Chris has a computer connected to the internet, we can do research from home.”

“I don’t want to make a farm if’n it’s bad,” Vin said solemnly.

“Can we look now?” JD bounced on his heels.

“We could,” Ezra began, “but perhaps we should eat Nathan’s dessert first.”

“Bacon bannans,” JD chortled.

“Bacon and bananas?” Vin’s eyebrows drew together showing his confusion.

“Rest assured there is no bacon with the bananas. They have been carefully heated -–baked -- on the grill with honey and nuts.” Ezra stood. “Shall we go have dessert?”

Vin cast a regretful glance at the nest and moved to join Ezra and JD. Once again, JD caught Ezra’s hand in a warm, moist grip.

As they emerged from the woods, a low slung Mercedes convertible was speeding along the drive, sending up puffs of dust. Pony shied away from the fence and ran to the far corner of corral. The driver immediately slowed down, moving at a more respectable pace.

“Who’s that?” JD demanded.

“I’m afraid I don’t know but that is a rather expensive piece of machinery.”

Vin climbed up the corral fence, planted one foot on the fence post and stood upright. He balanced easily.

“It’s Chris’ lady friend.”

“A lady?” JD said.

“From outside Donatello’s. The lady that Chris knows from a long, long time ago.”

“Hmmm,” Ezra vocalised. He knew that many children could see better than adults, fresh eyes and clear perception – rarely had he seen it displayed. The Mercedes stopped and out slinked Ella Gaines to be greeted by Chris. Vin made ready to jump.

“No.” Ezra held out his hand.

“Uncle Ez,” Vin protested.

Ezra simply reached up. Signing dramatically, Vin gripped his hand and jumped with Ezra controlling his descent. JD danced around them, involved in his own internal world.

“I jump higher all the time.”

“Yes, but I’m not there. I would be beside myself if you hurt yourself when I could prevent it.”

Vin didn’t say a word, but he kept a hold of Ezra’s hand.

“What’s the lady come for?” JD asked.

“To join the party, I suspect.”

“Chris had a meal with her yesterday,” Vin announced.

“Really?” Ezra said.

“Yeah.” Vin dragged his feet at Ezra’s side. “They went to that place that you like: The Fisherman’s Log.”

“Lodge,” Ezra corrected as he sidestepped a Pony deposit.

“Mr. Chris went out with a girl?” JD asked, his voice rife with disgust.

“Yes, JD. I’m afraid that adults have been known on occasion to have pleasant meals with members of the opposite sex.”

“Ain’t that a rude word?” Vin asked.

Ezra stopped dead and mentally reviewed his statement. Sometimes talking to JD and Vin could be like bouncing blindfolded on a pogo stick though a minefield.

“Which word?

“Sex?”

“No, sex is not a rude word.” Ezra waved at Buck with his free hand. JD saw his foster dad and squealed like he hadn’t seen him in an age and ran ahead. Vin pulled his hand free and ran after JD. Ezra wiped his forehead, appalled at the perspiration he felt; he hadn’t lost his cool like that when faced with gun runners. Buck grabbed JD and swung him high and around and around. Vin skidded to a halt his posture screaming indecision, but Buck brought JD back to earth and then swooped, gently, on the older boy.

“Up high?” Ezra heard Buck say and Vin flew.

Ezra arrowed to his comfortable deck chair, he had had enough excitement.

“Ez, you remember Ella?” Chris stopped him before he could laze in the chair.

“Yes, of course.”

The lady hung on Chris’ elbow as he introduced her to the team. Her makeup was impeccable and her coiffure was artfully arranged with a tumble of curls over her left shoulder. Buck sauntered over, Vin slung over one shoulder and JD tucked under his arm like a football.

“Hey, Ella, long time no see. How are you ya?”

“Buck!” Ella slid forwards and pecked him on the cheek.

“Joining us for dessert?” Buck said.

“Chris was kind enough to invite me.” She held up a large white cardboard box. “I brought goodies.”

“Hiya!” JD said loudly from under Buck’s arm.

“Well, hello.” Ella leaned forward and ruffled JD’s jet black hair. “And who are you?”

“‘Am John Daniel Dunne. I is five.”

“And are you Chris’ foster son?”

“Nah, I’s Buck’s. I’ve got a Buck.” JD wriggled happily.

“You’re fostering!” Ella asked astonished, then she blushed. “Sorry, I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you; you’re probably married.”

“Nah,” Buck said jovially.

“How do you know Buck?” JD demanded in his stentorian voice.

“We all met in college before your foster dad and Chris went into the Navy.”

“Buck, you went to college?” JD demanded, shocked.

“Of course I did. You have –- well, it’s best -- to have a degree to get in the ATF.” Buck jiggled his foster son a tad put out by his amazement.

Vin wriggled and Buck swung him down.

“Hello again, Vin.”

“Hello, Mrs. Gaines.” Vin looked at the floor.

“It’s Ms. Gaines, actually Vin – but you can call me Ella.”

“Miz?” JD questioned loudly.

“Yes, John.”

“No. no. no. I’s JD for John Daniel,” he protested.

“Sorry, yes, JD?”

“Miz? What’s a Miz?”

“A Ms. tells you that I’m probably not married.” Ella smiled sadly.

“Ella?” Chris gently touched her elbow.

She essayed a tight smile. “He passed on a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ella’s face crumbled, but she fought and won her composure “At the end, it was a -– to coin a phrase -– a blessed relief.”

Vin was watching and listening, cataloguing all the words and seeing behind the lines. Ezra reached down and ruffled his long curls, brushing his over long hair out of his eyes. Chris gently directed Ella away from the group.

Distracting Vin from mortality, Ezra said, “Perhaps a trim is in order.”

“What?”

“Next Saturday, I will introduce you to Armand, he is a master.”

“Eh?”

“Perhaps Donatello’s afterwards?”

“But? What’s a’ Armand?”

“He’s a hair stylist.”

“To get my hair cut?” Vin asked horrified, he clamped his hands on top of his head. “Does JD have to get his hair cut, too?”

Buck had JD held at arms length and was threatening to blow raspberries on his tummy. His jet black hair whipped about as he wriggled.

“I think that that is a good idea.”

“But… I like my hair long.”

Ezra crouched down. “As do I. But regardless of whether you have long or short hair, a trim every few months keeps it healthy.” He fingered the blond strands: the ends were split and over dry. A decent cut would improve its appearance dramatically.

“I’ve never had it cut.”

“If that was the case, Vin, you would have hair as long as Casey’s and Buck would put bows in it.”

“Ew!” JD squealed as Vin looked horrified.

“You know.” Buck ambled over dangling JD by his ankles. “I’m handy at plaiting hair – learned it from my ma. I could do you a nice pair of pigtails.”

Vin’s mouth fell open. “No.”

“So trip to Armand’s next weekend?”

“Yes!”

~*~

Everyone was in post dessert soporific world. JD and Vin were curled up on their cushion, JD was half dozing in the early evening sunlight. Buck lay on his back on the grass idly scratching his stomach through his thin t-shirt as he starred up at the fluffy clouds overhead changing colour as the sun set. Chris and Ella sat on the deckchairs together talking softly. Josiah had his nose in a book. Nathan and Rain were sharing a deck chair halfway towards nuzzling, but settling for cuddling given the company. Ezra entertained himself by watching everyone.

Vin rolled off his cushion and padded over to Buck.

“Buck?”

“Yeah, Junior?”

He dropped down on the agent’s stomach, drawing a small huff out of the man. Knees on either side of the man’s chest, he fingered Buck’s top shirt button.

“What’s up, Scrappy?” Buck eventually spoke in the face of Vin’s abstraction.

Vin shifted and Buck sat up so Vin ended up on his lap. Buck curled around him, giving them both the illusion of privacy.

“JD introduced everyone to Miz. Ella.”

“And,” Buck prompted softly.

“He introduced her to Uncle ‘Siah, Uncle Nathan, Auntie Rain and Uncle Ezra--” Vin chewed on his bottom lip, “--and to Buck.”

Plainly confused, but fighting not to show it, Buck said, “That’s my name.”

“Buck.”

“Yeah.”

“You know that JD thinks that ‘Buck’ is ‘Dad’, don’t you?” Vin said seriously.

A faint grin touched Buck’s face. “I thought it might.”

Vin leaned back in his grip so he could look him in the face. “I just,” he struggled for the words, “I wanted you to know like. I reckon he doesn’t know what a Dad is, ‘cos he was just with his ma, you know? But you’re Buck so that’s what he calls you, but you’re his Buck.”

Buck nodded, and then he smiled like the sun breaking through clouds. “Thank you.”

Vin ducked his head down, but not enough that his happy, embarrassed smile could not be seen. “Buck,” he said rolling the word adding a whole world of intonations and inflections.

“Yup.” Buck squeezed him tightly. “I’m Buck, a Buck and The Buck.”

“Hmmm, it’s good to have a Buck.” But that was enough mushiness, Vin rolled off his lap and set off at a dead run. Buck sat -- empty lap for a moment -- then he was up running, hooting and roaring. Vin shrieked and picked up his pace. JD awoke and seeing play in progress was up and joining them in a blink.

“How can they have the energy?” Josiah asked.

“Children have energy so that they can learn everything that they need to before they become old and slow,” Nathan said.

“So how does that explain Buck?” Ezra asked.

“He’s a big child at heart,” Chris said. Buck tagged Vin. He skidded to a halt, turned – Buck darted out of reach -- Vin focused on JD running towards them and arrowed in his direction. JD stopped on a pin and ran back to the dubious safety of the team.

“Protect me,” JD wailed ducking behind Ezra’s chair.

Vin skidded into Ezra falling over his lap. Ezra set him upright.

“Ha!” Vin slapped him in the centre of his chest. “You’re it!”

Ezra glanced at his chest feeling the warm hand through his shirt. His heart thrummed. Chase? Game? Run? It was unconscionable, it wasn’t delicate and refined. Vin laughed out loud and scampered away. Ezra stood up. Was he really going to do this?

JD grinned up at him, waggly front tooth and all. Ezra raised his arms, hands as claws and lumbered after a shrieking JD.

~*~

Chris padded through the house a fast asleep JD held across his chest and over his shoulder. It had been a superlatively good day. The game of tag had encompassed all the team, Rain and Ella had decamped to the deck, which had become an official safety zone. Tag had then metamorphosed to Hide and Seek and then what seemed to be a group wrestling match, with Josiah dubbed as Big Daddy. It was the sort of day that Chris wished that he could bottle. JD had slept through his bath, with the boneless unconsciousness that made him really difficult to handle, so the most experienced dad got the duty. Vin was sitting in a warm bubble bath, hair twisted into soapy spikes, idly playing with a tug boat under Buck’s watchful eye. Chris settled JD on the lower bunk. JD didn’t move a muscle as he was tucked warmly in.

“No bed time story tonight, eh Little Bit?”

JD let out a breathy snore.

Chuckling fondly, Chris planted a kiss on his forehead. Returning to the boys’ bathroom, he found a rinsed Vin, standing on a thick bathmat swaying tiredly as Buck dried him. Vin barely registered Chris’ presence as he sat on the clothes hamper.

“Good thing it’s Sunday tomorrow.”

“I think that maybe we’ll get a lie in tomorrow morning,” Buck said with a hint of hope in his voice.

Chris doubted it, but they could always hide under their quilts in hope.

“Foot,” Buck directed.

Vin lifted his foot and Buck wrestled on one pyjama leg over his foot and ankle.

“Down.”

Vin lowered his foot, but flopped forward, landing in a semi drape over Buck’s wide shoulder.

Chris chortled lowly.

“Are you going to help?” Buck almost whined.

“You’re doing such a good job.”

Buck rose up on his knees, holding Vin off the floor. It was easy then to pull up his pyjama bottoms. Settling back, he arranged Vin on his lap and wrestled him into his pyjama shirt.

“Pass the hair dryer over,” Buck ordered.

“It might be better to comb it out first. Did you use the conditioner?”

Sighing heavily, Buck held out his hand and Chris slapped the leave-in conditioner spray on his hand like a nurse handing out surgical instruments to a doctor. Vin didn’t react a fraction of an inch as he sprayed on the cool liquid.

“Ezra’s taking Vin and JD to have their hair cut next weekend.”

“How did he manage that?” Chris asked.

“We figure if it gets any longer we’ll be able to put pigtails in -- that seemed to convince him.”

Vin blinked at them sleepily as Buck finger combed the tangles out of his hair.

“That could be interesting. What kind of hair stylist?”

Buck snorted and held out his hand for the hair dryer. Chris passed it over. Buck shifted Vin into a sitting position, head lolling over one arm and plied the hair dryer over the long curls. The warm air playing over his hair lulled Vin deep into sleep.

“I’m fairly sure that I never slept like this when I was little,” Buck said as he finished.

“Why would you remember?” Chris plucked Vin from Buck’s lap. “You were asleep.”

Leaving Buck to unkink his legs, he took Vin to his bunk bed.

“Chris?” Vin mumbled.

“Hmmm?” Chris pulled back the quilt and gently deposited the child on the mattress.

“Dark, sleep. Cat. Run. Run ‘round.”

Evidently Vin was sleep talking. Chris tucked him in securely.

“Night, son.” He dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“Cat. Cat.” Vin shifted, moving under the quilt. Chris found the cuddly cat and set it on his pillow. Vin’s nostrils flared as he seemed to sense his most favourite toy. He grabbed Cat and curled up.

Chris retreated quietly, leaving JD’s night light on.

The group on the veranda had cracked open the bottles of fine Cabernet Sauvignon that Ezra had contributed to the festivities. Conversation was meandering as the ebbing sunlight faded and the glowing coals became dominant. Chris settled next to Ella on the porch swing.

“Enjoy your day?”

Ella shifted closer and delicate perfume filled the air. “You have a lovely home.”

Chris liked the sound of that -- ‘home’. He could see the Hogback hills as dark shadows before the mountains as the sun set. It gave him a sense of space that his soul demanded.

“Are the boys asleep?” she asked.

“Out for the count.”

“They’re very cute. I can see why you fostered them.”

“Well, Buck’s fostering JD and I’m fostering Vin, but it’s pretty much a ‘you get both’. Sharing, you know.”

“So who’s the mom?”

“Oh Buck,” Chris said easily.

Ella laughed.

“So now that they’re asleep.” Ella sidled up against him. “How’s about you coming into Denver with me this evening?”

Chris sighed, as tempting as that sounded they’d been working long hours all week and hadn’t seen anything of the kids and he’d been out late on Friday night-Saturday morning. Plus Buck had been left with babysitting duties once this weekend.

Chris slung an arm around her shoulders. “Best not. But I have a late meeting on Tuesday, will you still be around?”

“Oh, my business will take a couple of weeks, at least.”

~*~

Ezra swirled the fine Cabernet in his plastic glass, watching the low red light of the bar-be-cue swirling. He figured that he was just a little drunk. Not drunk – he was mellow. Across the yard, he watched without any surreptitiousness as Chris deftly guided Ms. Gaines into her Mercedes. Rain was pouring a superbly relaxed Josiah into the back of their SUV with Nathan’s less than adept help. Ezra toasted the young woman with his wine. You had to respect the medical profession -- always hope that the vampires would keep away from you – but you had to respect their dedication. Rain was committed, and as such rarely drank when she was on duty the next day. She was often the designated driver.

“So how long have you known Ella?” Ezra rolled his head on the headrest and regarded Buck flopped next to him on his deckchair.

“Forever. She’s always had a thing for him. Came close to getting married once.”

Ezra listened intrigued.

“Chris proposed once but Ella wanted to see the world. She had a big year-long trip all planned.”

“I thought that Sarah…”

“Yeah, Sarah was for Chris the first time he saw her. But Chris and Ella were like fire and air, they blew like fireworks. Sarah was Chris’ earth.”

“How very poetic.” Ezra leaned over and topped up Buck’s glass.

“What is this stuff? It’s really good.”

“One would hope so.” Ezra hiccupped discretely. “It’s a French Cabernet Sauvignon from Bordeaux – that’s France don’t you know – a St. Emilion. This is the finest suffusion of grapes and the vintners’ art. Can you detect the undertones of rich chocolate with the fine aromatic overtones of… uhm… cedar notes?”

Buck’s brow furrowed, he stuck his nose in the glass. “No,” he said simply.

“Philistine. Here have some more.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

End part two

~*~

Part three

Chris knew that Vin knew that something was up. His foster son had a fairly poor appetite at the best of times. Conflictingly he liked to hoard food when he was stressed. Vin pushed his cereal around the bowl, but an apple and a banana had ended up in the pockets of his fleece sweatshirt. An absent spoonful of fruit loops was pushed into his mouth.

Chris smiled a bit too thinly and Vin was not reassured. They had a big takedown scheduled for the afternoon, and Ezra had intimated that his snitch was wiggly. The undercover agent had skirted around the edges of cancelling the operation. Signs indicated a massive shipment of explosives destined for a paramilitary group in the southwest was arriving. They simply couldn’t let it through their grasp on vague feelings that ‘something’ was up. But while Ezra had nothing definite it was enough to make Chris leery. They were going in full body armour and Ezra (over his protestations) was going to be wired.

“Chris?” Vin finally said.

“Yes.”

Vin stirred his cereal. “Nothing.”

“Vin…”

Vin pushed his bowl away. Chris marvelled at the perceptiveness of the boy; yet would he and JD have survived without Vin’s savvy? Probably not.

“You gonna be careful?” Vin whispered.

“As careful as careful can be.”

“Promise?”

“I promise to be careful.” Chris left his seat and crouched by Vin’s chair. “And Uncle Nathan, and Uncle Josiah and our Buck will be careful.”

“Uncle Ezra?”

”Uncle Ezra will be careful, or else.”

“Or else?”

“I’ll ground him.”

Vin’s mouth fell open. “Can you do that?”

“Oh, yes.” Chris ruffled his hair, keeping it light as Vin flinched. “I’ve put an extra sandwich in your lunchbox. It’s for you not JD or the school pets. Now go on, watch cartoons with JD before your school bus arrives.”

Vin slipped off his chair, bumping affectionately into Chris’ side but not staying still long enough to hug. He stopped at the door, weighing Chris who met his frank stare with his own. In that heartbeat Chris wondered if it was fair that he had fostered Vin and Buck had fostered JD given the inherent danger in their jobs. Yet where would the children be if they hadn’t taken them in? Another foster home?

He and Buck just had to ensure that they came back safely.

Vin read his intent and scampered away.

~*~

Vin snarled at his letters, why couldn’t he tell ‘b’s’ from ‘d’s’? The teachers said that they were always different, but why were they sometimes the same and other times it was clear that they were different. He tried. He really, truly tried. Vin dug his pencil in the paper gouging the paper. If he was in charge ‘d’s’ and ‘b’s’ wouldn’t exist there would just be… he drew a cross. And ‘s’s’ would point anyway and they would still be ‘s’s’ and the same with ‘f’s’.

They were going to do math next – Vin wished that it was art from the bottom of his soul.

The swings in the playground were wafting back and forth in the wind. He wanted to be there not inside.

“Vin?”

Vin knew that his teacher had said his name more than once. “Yes, Mr. B?”

“Where were you?”

“On the swings,” Vin said honestly.

“It will come with practice.”

“Uncle Ez said that it’ll get better, but I’ll probably always muddle ‘em up when I’m tired.”

“Muddle up what?”

The bad letters, Vin thought, maliciously, scribbling them out from his work page. He hated ‘b’ and ‘d’, bad, dad, baby, dady, babble, baddle, beb, bed…

“Vin, would you like to tell me what’s the matter?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“I think it would be better if you tell me what’s wrong.”

Vin knew that he didn’t know everything, and he also knew that if he had a question or a problem he was supposed to ask his teachers or uncles or Buck or Chris, but he couldn’t tell Mr. B. cos’ this was about Chris’ work, and work was secret; if they let secrets out people could be hurt.

“I can’t tell, but it might be okay tonight and then tomorrow I’ll be good.”

~*~

Chris scrabbled at his blond hair, messing it into sweaty spikes. What a day. He leaned against the ER wall and thanked his team and colleagues that Buck was okay.

He was going to rip the man’s lungs from his body and then he was going to ground his ass into next week.

The takedown had been a bust, they had got a few measly kilos of trinitrotoluene and C4 instead of the near tonne that had supposed to have been shipped through the network. Chris guessed that they had put a crimp in the paramilitary distribution system, but in a week or two they would have an alternate route. There was a leak somewhere in the ranks of the ATF or FBI.

The ER doors swung open and Buck was pushed into view.

“Buck.” Chris surged forward.

“Sprained ankle.” Buck looked at his wrapped foot as if it belonged to someone else.

“You were fucking lucky.”

“Tell that to the rookie that would have walked straight into a crossfire.”

Chris squeezed Buck’s shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“Doc says it’ll be fine.” Buck smiled rakishly. “In a couple of days or so.”

“Let’s go home.”

~*~

Vin and JD were both sitting on the swing on the deck as Chris pulled his SUV to a stop. Vin stood and Chris could see him trying to see though the black glass windows into the vehicle. Normally both boys would run forward as soon as his or Buck’s truck came to a halt, but today Vin kept a light hand on JD arm. Somehow they knew something was up.

Quickly, Chris jumped out. “Hi, guys.”

“Where’s Buck?” JD demanded as Vin seemed to sag in on himself in relief.

“He’s here.”

JD ran down the steps. “Buck! Buck! Buck!”

“I’m okay, Little Bit,” he called. JD clambered straight into the front seat and stopped taken aback that Buck was not in the front passenger seat.

“What you doing back there?” JD peered between the two seats.

“Took a little tumble and I’ve sprained my ankle; so I’m sitting back here were I can keep my leg up.”

“Hey.” Chris opened the passenger door at Buck’s feet, crutches in hand. “Ready to move?”

Buck shuffled feet first out the door. Chris supported him until he got the crutches under his armpits. Unpractised, he was a bit unwieldy as he navigated his way up the steps into their home. Vin stared up at him, eyes wide.

“I’m okay, Junior, it’s sprain – it will be as right as rain in a couple of days.”

“A week,” Chris corrected.

“What do you need?” Vin asked breathlessly, taking in the awkward way that Buck held his wrapped foot high off the ground as he manhandled his way across the deck.

“If you put some ice in a plastic bag for Buck that would be great,” Chris said.

“Okay.” Vin darted away.

“Buck?” JD said near tears.

“I’m okay.”

Chris hovered behind him, waiting to catch him if he fell as they made their way into the sitting room. Buck collapsed on the sofa with a sigh of relief.

“Foot up.” Chris instructed.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Buck turned on his butt so he could lie along the sofa – foot resting on the cushions. Vin ran back into the room, clutching a plastic bag filled with ice to his chest.

“Is this enough?”

“More than enough.” Chris took the bag – it was almost too full; he might not be able to tie it off. “I need a towel. Can you get me…”

Vin was off before he finish. Chris grabbed an elastic band from the bowl of knickknacks on the sideboard and closed off the bag. Buck watched him with a great deal of trepidation.

“It’ll help, Buck.”

“I know, but why doesn’t something warm work?”

“Ask Nathan.” Gently, Chris laid the bag of ice over Buck’s foot. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen.”

“Beer,” Buck contradicted.

Chris acquiesced, he felt like they deserved a beer.

JD hung on the arm of the sofa looking at Buck’s toes poking out from under the heavy bandage and bag of ice. “They’s look like hotdogs,” he decided.

Appalled Chris looked at them, but he had to laugh – they did indeed look like fat sausages.

“Can we have hotdogs for dinner?” JD asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Chris said. “I might give the ketchup a miss, though; it looks too much like blood.”

Buck shot him a dirty look.

~*~

Deliciously clean, Chris wandered through his bedroom towelling his hair. It was only Wednesday and he wished that it was the weekend already. He stopped dead; Vin sat on the floor hunched up beside the dresser silently watching.

“Hello, Vin,” Chris said carefully, reading deep unease in the curled up form.

“You promised to be careful,” he whispered.

Chris tossed his damp towel on the bed and plopped down on the mattress opposite Vin giving him all the space in the world.

“We were careful.”

“Buck got hurt,” Vin accused.

“Yes. Buck twisted his ankle when he helped a rookie who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So the rookie wasn’t careful.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Is he going to work with you again?”

“Yes.”

Vin powered to his feet. “No! He can’t!”

Chris remained sitting in the face of the little tornado. His fury was a beauty to behold, stamping his foot on the floorboards, a pure picture of dedicated anger and protection.

“NO! No! No! He’s….”

“Vin.” Chris said sharply.

He stopped dead, eyes widening, and he shrank as muscles contracted ready for flight or fight.

“Vin,” Chris began, “Agent…Rookie made a mistake and he’s learned an important lesson. Because Buck was careful he simply twisted his ankle.”

“But…”

“Vin, people make mistakes. The agent won’t make the same mistake and he won’t be working with us until he’s over being grounded.”

“If it was dangerous, why was he there? He shouldn’t have been there!”

Chris finally reached out and gently cupped Vin’s cheek. The child leaned into the touch. “He wasn’t supposed to be there and me, Buck, Uncle Josiah, Uncle Nathan and Uncle Ezra dealt with the mistake. We were a team, we watched each other and kept each other safe while Buck helped Agent Rookie.”

“Buck still got hurt.”

“Yes. But Buck can twist his ankle walking down stairs wrong. He tore the ligaments in it when he was at college, and it’s always been a little sensitive, like your back. It was an accident. We were careful and we will continue to be careful every time we go to work.”

Vin pushed out his bottom lip. “Always?”

“Always,” Chris affirmed.

Vin heaved a heavy sigh, shoulders rising and slumping. Chris fought the impulse to tell him that everything would be all right, because he couldn’t make such a promise – only that they would always be careful.

“You okay, now?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ve got to make a phone call.”

Vin’s head shot up. “You going out with her again?”

“Vin,” Chris chastised, “it was a possibility, but I can’t now, because I have to stay and look after Buck and you two.”

Vin shifted uneasily and then stood up straight. “If you really want to go out…” he paused and then offered with great seriousness, “I could look after Buck.”

Chris maintained a straight face. “That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer to stay in.”

“K.”

“Go on, skoosh, I need to make a phone call.”

Vin skooshed.

~*~

Chris leaned against the open freezer door, looking down at the shelves hoping for inspiration. Before Vin, JD and Buck had become permanent visitors in his life this would have been a toast night. There was food in the freezer but he couldn’t find any inspiration – anything that grabbed him. Anything that he wanted to eat.

“Hotdogs.”

There weren’t any hotdogs. JD would be devastated assuming he remembered. He could be mercurial that way. Chris would have killed for Chinese, but the nearest restaurant was a good half hour’s drive away.

“What we having?” Vin poked his head between Chris’ hip and the door.

“See anything that you like?”

“Josiah’s chilli.” Vin ducked under Chris’ arm and opened the upper fridge door of the unit.

“Where?”

Vin pointed at a tupperware bowl on the bottom shelf tucked behind a wilting lettuce.

“Where did that come from?”

“Josiah brought it for the bar-be-cue.”

Chris mentally counted on his fingers. Three nights in the fridge? Given the amount of chillies that Josiah put in his special chilli, Chris doubted that anything nasty had had the time to grow in it.

“Chilli it is.”

Vin backed out of the way as Chris manhandled out the big bowl. The dark red concoction had coloured the clear plastic a lurid red. He cracked open the lid and sniffed; it smelled fine.

“Garlic bread?” Vin pulled a focaccia from the bottom of the freezer.

“Yeah.”

Vin opened the fridge door and grabbed the shredded cheese. Both were set on the table. Next he found the nacho chips to crumble on the warmed chilli. Chris smiled at his little helper.

“How’s about taking the cheese and the chips through to the sitting room so Buck doesn’t have to move.”

“K.”

Chris scraped the five alarm chilli into a pot to heat up and switched on the oven for the bread. Ella had not been pleased. He tried to train his thoughts onto the mundane and failed. He didn’t understand – their plans had been nebulous and they had caught a show and a meal last night after work. Chris kicked shut the oven on the focaccia and stirred the chilli. Ella had been a little bit more than annoyed at his need to cancel what hadn’t even been arranged.

Vin slid back into the kitchen sliding on the tiles, JD followed at his heels.

“What next?” Vin asked. “Knives and forks?”

“Cutlery, yup. But spoons will do.” He handed them to JD. “Take them and put them on the coffee table.”

“It’s like a picnic but in front of the television,” JD crowed and beetled off.

“What can I do?”

“Two glasses of milk for you and JD.”

“Chris,” Vin drew out the syllables.

“Milk is good for you, and it’s good with chilli.”

“Buck likes beer with chilli.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Milk.”

Dragging his feet to the fridge as if he had been asked to drink castor oil, Vin said, “K.”

~*~

Ezra was good at reports, an excellent memory – which boarded on the edge of photographic – allowed him to write reports which the DA loved and Chris genuinely appreciated. Ezra hit control-P then enter, and sent his report to the team’s printer. One day he would have his own printer. Ezra sagged at the travesty of his wishes. He wanted a printer when he should be asking for an office and a personal assistant.

Standing, he stalked over to the printer beside Nathan’s desk. Through the glass windows on the south wall he saw an unwieldy Buck tapping his way down the corridor. The door into their cubicle opened ahead of him as if by magic. Ezra blinked and then realised that it was JD.

“Hello.”

“Uncle Ez!” JD barrelled into him and wrapped his arms around his legs. Buck followed -- clickedly click --with Vin herding him.

“Hello, JD, I thought that your housekeeper was bringing you here. Buck?”

“I didn’t drive. I caught a lift with Mrs. Potter, I figured I’d come back with Chris and the boys.”

“Bored of lying around the ranch?”

“Chris has had a hankering for Chinese the last couple of days, I figure, you take the kids to your fancy hair stylist, I look over Wednesday’s reports with Chris then we go for a good meal when you come back.”

Vin was standing at the door glaring out into the corridor. He stalked off.

“Where you going, Vin?” Buck called.

He didn’t answer. Ezra caught a glance of Vin heading in the direction of the restrooms.

“You want me…” Ezra pointed after the boy.

“Buck, what are you doing here?” Chris demanded walking out of his office adjacent to the main work area.

“Needed some fresh air.”

“So you came to downtown Denver when we live on a ranch.”

“Ez promised to get the kids’ hair cut. “

“Ezra?” Chris asked.

“I had arranged for their appointment for tomorrow, but I can rearrange it as I was going to have a trim after work. The boys can take my appointment, and I’ll go tomorrow. And then you can go for Chinese. But in the meantime, I think it best that I…” Ezra edged towards the door.

Chris looked around the office. “Where’s Vin?”

“He went that way.” Ezra pointed and followed his finger. “Back in a moment.”

Vin wasn’t in the men’s room. Ezra stepped out into the corridor, pondering on his destination; he had certainly stalked off with intent. Chris stood at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed, posture demanding to know the whereabouts of his son.

“I’ll check down?” Ezra called. “You check up?”

Chris nodded curtly, moving to the eastern staircase. Ezra took the western, intent on asking any agents or staff if they has seen Chris’ son. He bumped into Dee, Special Agent Hill’s secretary.

“Have you seen Vin?”

“Agent Larabee’s son?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, no.”

Grimacing, Ezra moved on, for the most part the building’s security was excellent. If there were any criminals being interviewed their movements were controlled, but it still wasn’t an area for a kid, even one as resourceful as Vin.

Slamming through the door onto the next floor, he came up against Agent Carl Davies, the tech specialist on team four. “Standish, I just ran into Larabee’s kid. Who set him on that wild goose chase?”

“Where did you send him? What goose chase?”

“I was going to take him up to Larabee’s office, but he ran down towards the gym. I was just gonna call Larabee and then round him up.”

“Call Larabee.” Ezra jogged away.

~*~

Vin forced open the heavy gym door. The gym complex smelled like old socks and sweat. Buck had shown him around the whole building on their first tour. The gym was one of Buck’s favourite places, and Vin knew that a lot of the agents spent time there. The locker room on the left was usually a hive of activity. Vin jogged around the banks of exercise equipment. He stopped at the threshold, looking for anyone that he knew in the changing room.

“Hey, Larabee, where’s your Dad?”

Ah, Vin spotted Buck’s loud friend, the funnily named Jon-boy Tinkler. He weaved between the agents in various stages of undress to the man’s side.

“‘Am looking for Agent Rookie.”

The man snorted loudly. “Agent Rookie?”

“Yep, he got Buck hurt; I got to have words with him.”

“Oh.” Jon dropped down onto one knee. “Agent Rookie, eh? Uhm, Agent Rookie’s…” His eyes slid left but back as quick as a flash.

Vin focused on a black haired man, standing stock-still next to an open locker. Slowly the man lifted his hand and rested it on the picture taped to the inside of the door. Then he turned, and Vin saw that he was pale and pinched and he was sweating.

Growling under his breath, Vin stalked forwards. “Are you Agent Rookie?”

“Uhm, no… sorta, I guess.” He backed into the locker door with a clang.

“Did you get Buck hurt?” Vin demanded. “Chris said you got Buck hurt.”

~*~

Ezra coughed delicately as he entered the gymnasium. The stench was quite unpleasant. Hot, perspiring bodies were throwing themselves through exercise routines. Josie Caithness pedalling furiously on an exercise bike waved and pointed to the men’s locker room.

“Vin? That way.”

She nodded.

Ezra tipped a salute in her direction. The locker room was curiously silent. Ezra read rooms in an instant -- he needed to in his field of work. This was a tableau of humour and seriousness. Towards the rear of the room, back to him, he saw Vin with fists clenched at his sides. Agent Leigh was frozen, staring down at Vin as if he were a scorpion.

Ezra slid forwards.

“You gotta be careful,” Vin was saying, words hitting Leigh like bullets. “JD’s loves Buck, what if he died – what about JD?”

“I…”

“And what about the team? Chris sez the team is important. Don’t you get telled that at AFT school? Chris sez always teamwork. Always careful. Always watch each others backs. The team is family.”

“Vin.” Ezra laid a gentle hand on the heaving shoulders. “Eloquently put. I believe that Agent Leigh would like to say a few words now.”

“I’m sorry, er, Vin, I turned left when I should have turned right and it all went to Hell in a hand basket. I’m sorry… I forgot my call…”

“You’re new, ain’t cha? Where’s was your team?” The firebrand turned on the other members of the locker room. “If’n he’s new why weren’t you looking after him?”

People shuffled uneasily.

“What’s going on?” Larabee spoke and the rank of watchers parted.

“Vin was giving our assembled brethren a lecture on teamwork.”

“Vin?” Chris held out his hand and Vin tucked up against his side letting him rest his hand on a boney shoulder. “Agent Leigh?”

“Special Agent Larabee, sir?”

“Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir – I appreciate that Vin took the time to come and talk to me. I know that I made a mistake.”

Larabee extended his hand, slowly Leigh clasped it. “We all make mistakes, son, the trick is to learn from them.”

“The team is family, sir.”

“Amen, brothers,” Josiah’s voice rumbled through the throng.

“Okay, break it up, do what you need to do.” Chris turned Vin away knowing that Josiah and Ezra had his back. The silence was broken and the hubbub of life rose.

Chris waited until they were outside the gym, before stopping. “So what did you do wrong, Vin?”

“Nuthin’,” Vin said simply looking up at Chris guilessly, “he needed talking to.”

“Vin. You have to trust me to look after the team, the whole team – you, JD, Buck, Ezra, Josiah and Nathan.”

“Yeah,” Vin nodded. “And I’ve got your back.” He huffed once and crossed his arms evidently satisfied with his day’s work.

There really wasn’t any argument, apart from one little point. “You don’t go off on your own in this building or any building for that matter without my express permission.”

“Why?”

“Think,” Ezra offered, “you might have gone in the girls’ locker room.”

Vin’s eyes widened.

“Thank you for your input, Ezra,” Chris said quellingly. “There are bad people held in this building, I don’t want you getting hurt. You stay with me or one of your uncles or someone that they say are safe, do you understand, Vin?”

“Yes, Mr. Chris.”

“It’s okay, Cowboy, we just want to keep you safe.”

~*~

“You are adorable! My clients would die to have such lovely hair.” Armand ran his fingers through JD’s jet black hair, testing its strength and condition.

JD basked in the attention, wriggling happily on the salon chair.

Vin rolled his eyes heavenward. “He gonna paw me like that?” he whispered.

“No, Armand, is the consummate professional, his act is chosen individually for each client.”

“JD’ll like it.”

“I think.” Armand tweaked a long strand, “to get this looking good – an inch or two. I want to keep your style, it suites you. I’m going to hand you over to Veronica, she’ll wash your hair with a mint infusion, I think.”

JD was handed over to the elfin Veronica, who seemed to giggle constantly.

Armand came over and Vin stepped back into Ezra’s legs.

“Señor Standish, are you going to introduce me to this friend?”

“This is Master Vin Tanner.”

“Hello, Vin, have you had your hair cut before?”

“I think they cut it in the hospital ‘cos it was all matted.”

Armand’s narrow face creased in concern. “Can I touch your hair? I need to check its health.”

Vin craned his head to check with Ezra first. He nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah.”

Armand ran the fine blond strands through his fingers, carding the dry split ends. The hair was fuller and thicker at the roots, evidence of an improvement in health and diet.

“I’ve been cutting Senor Standish’s hair for several years and he trusts me to look after his auburn locks. Can you trust me, Vin?”

“Uncle Ezra trusts you, so I reckon that I can.”

Ezra crossed his fingers behind his back. He had had a long conversation with Armand before bringing the boys to the salon.

“Your hair needs a good cut.” Armand touched the shaggy hair that brushed his shoulders. “I’ll keep the layers long, but you need three-four inches off.”

“Is that lots?”

Armand held up his finger and thumb.

“That’s lots.”

“When you’re ill, Vin, it affects everything. Your hair tells me that, for a while, you weren’t very well. Now is the time to tidy your hair up.”

“Uncle Ez?”

“Hair grows, Vin. But if we come to Armand and get it trimmed often, it can be long and healthy.”

“Go on then,” Vin said begrudgingly.

~*~

Chris sat stupefied at the change in the two boys. Ezra had brought the boys straight to the restaurant. Mentally, Chris reigned in his amazement, neither boy could cope with perceived negativity. The haircuts weren’t bad, they were just amazingly different from the scruffy mops the two waifs had had before.

Chris had ordered the set meal before the boys had arrived, timing the arrival of the starters, Ho-sin duck pancakes, crab rangoons, sesame seed toast and prawn crackers with the appearance of the boys. JD loved the pancakes, loved the whole routine of grabbing the duck and making the little pancakes. JD clambered onto the booth shuffling up against Buck and snagged his first pancake and began to tuck in happily. Vin slid onto the seat beside Chris and captured a sesame toast.

JD had the classic bowl cut, and his hair was glossy, so black that the highlights were blue. Buck was grinning, pleased with his little cherub. Vin’s hair was significantly shorter, but it looked better for it. The admittedly straggly curls had been sheared away, and the layers were long and had been dried straight. It looked a bit girly to Chris’ eye, but the straightness wouldn’t survive one wash ‘cos there was no way that he was blow drying it straight.

“Looking good, Boys,” Buck crowed.

JD grinned all teeth and gums. “Veronica sez I’m good enough to eat.”

Vin ran his fingers through the long layers. “It feels nice.”

“Hello, Boys.” Ella marched up to the table, hips swinging. “Oh, you two look adorable.”

Vin scowled.

Ella continued, “Buck, how’s the wounded warrior?”

“Upgraded to a walking stick.” Buck pulled it out.

Ella turned to Ezra. “Ah, Mr. Standish are you joining us?”

“Yes, an invitation has been tendered. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Ezra chose to sit beside Vin, leaving JD and his dubious table manners to Miz. Ella. He grinned wolfishly.

“Interesting restaurant.” Ella looked around.

“The atmosphere is a bit – shall we say – proletarian but the food is superlative. The Chi-Li family are masters at the art of Chinese cuisine.”

JD waved his pancake, sharing duck, ho-sin sauce and shredded cucumber with his tablemates. “I like these best.”

~*~

Chris buckled a fast asleep JD into his booster seat. Vin clambered up beside him and fastened himself in. Wincing a little bit, Buck managed to get into the passenger seat. Chris closed the car doors on his family and sauntered over.

“May I offer you a lift to your hotel, Ms. Gaines?” Ezra asked.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Standish, but I can get a taxi.”

“Oh, I insist,” he said easily.

“Ella.” Chris planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. “It was good seeing you. Why don’t you come out to the ranch tomorrow? I’ve got to work with the horses first thing, and a few other things, but you can get to see what we do. And just chill.”

“How can I resist such an invitation?” She smiled perfectly. “What time?”

“After nine.” Chris dropped another kiss on her cheek. “Best go; it’s past the boys’ bedtime.”

Chris jogged back to the SUV without a backward glance.

“This way, Ms. Gaines.” Ezra gestured expansively down the road to the parking garage where his jaguar was safely stored.

“Thank you.”

Walking side by side, Ezra couldn’t help but note that her handbag was a bit on the large side, more like an overnight bag. Someone had obviously expected an invitation back to the ranch, but Chris hadn’t even registered. And judging by the way she was bristling, someone wasn’t a happy camper.

End part three

Part four

JD struggled under a lazy man’s load of hay.

“JD, split it,” Chris instructed. “Put it down and just carry a little bit.”

The child promptly dropped everything, following it to the floor, he picked up a bare handful. “Like this, Chris?”

Chris leaned against Pony’s flank, drawing the curry brush down a particular stubborn knot. “You could take two handfuls.”

“K.” He picked up a generous handful and trotted over to Peso’s stall to drop the hay on the cleaned earth.

At the other end of the barn, Vin was transferring dry hay to a small wheelbarrow, JD ran to Vin and grabbed another handful before darting back to Peso’s stall.

You have to admire his energy, Buck chortled inwardly.

“How’s the ankle?” Chris asked spotting him at the barn entrance.

It had been Buck’s turn to lie in and he had revelled in it. He manipulated his ankle, while it hurt, tightly lacing up his hiking boot added enough support that he had thrown his stick away.

“It’s fine. You guys ready for second breakfast?”

“You make us sound like hobbits or something,” Chris said.

Buck stooped low and wrung his hands together. “Can I gets the pretty little hobbitises their second breakfast,” he cackled.

“Golem!” JD shrieked.

Chris raised an eyebrow chastisingly at Buck. “You been showing them Lord of the Rings while I’ve been out?”

JD barrelled into Buck’s side. “You all sleeped out, Buck?”

“Have you been helping, JD?”

“Yep.”

“Can we have pancakes,” Vin asked, “with bacon and maple syrup for second breakfast?”

“That you can, young masters.” He grinned at the scowling Larabee. “I control the remote, we fast forward through the nasty bits.”

“Pah.” Chris returned to currying Pony, Buck could tell that he was not really annoyed.

Favouring his ankle, he returned to the house, after cajoling JD to stay and finish working with the horses. It didn’t take him long to prepare a batch of batter.

“Chris!” Ella sauntered into the kitchen. She froze as she spotted him.

“Hello, Ella.” He waved his spatula absently.

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember.”

Ella stared at him with wide eyes. “I thought that you had a place in town.”

“Nah, not any more, it’s easier to share. You were here last Saturday when I put the kids to bed -– did you think that Vin was having JD for a sleepover?”

“I…”

Buck turned his attention to the skillet, flipping a pancake. What had Chris and Ella been talking about when they were out for dinner? Weird.

“Don’t you miss your own place?” Ella continued.

Well, yeah, Buck thought, sometime he did feel a bit old to be a roommate, but when push came to shove, his and Chris’ arrangement worked. Chris had a lot of advice about the care and maintenance of kids. Chris was a bit dour, him and Vin alone at the ranch was asking for trouble, they needed doses of happiness. Separating JD and Vin wasn’t an option either.

“I would have thought that an adult would prefer their own place.”

Buck set the skillet down and gave the woman his full attention. “You know, Ella,” he said pithily, “if you’re wanting me to take the kids out for a ride so that you and Chris can have some quality time together, you just have to ask.”

Ella flushed prettily. She hemmed and hawed. “Okay, you read me like a book. You ever thought of going into profiling?”

“That’s what Josiah’s for, but I help him when the mission pertains to my specialist subject.”

“Pertains?” Ella mocked.

Buck shrugged. “I’ve been hanging around with Ez too much. Look, we’re having second breakfast, then I’ve got to go into town, I’ll see if Vin and JD would like to come.”

~*~

Chris wondered on the jaunty wave that Buck threw in his direction as the bright red truck pulled away. Secured in his booster seat, JD waved haphazardly at Chris and Vin.

“You sure you didn’t want to go, Vin?” Chris asked.

Vin bobbed from foot to foot at his side. “Nope. I wanna see you with the foal.”

“I’ll just be walking Jalapeno around the corral a few times.”

“Well, he’s only a baby,” Vin said sagely.

The foal had been -- unsurprisingly -- a massive hit with the boys since he had arrived a tad prematurely late one summer’s night.

“You breed horses?” Ella asked.

“Yeah. Not as a going concern, but it’s nice to have young un’s around the place. Jalapeno has excellent bloodlines.” Chris scratched his jaw. “There’s some boots in the mud room that you can use. Those shoes…”

“The horse make deposits,” Vin supplied. “Leastways that’s want Uncle Ez calls them. They’s poo.”

“Delightful.”

Chris shook his head, Vin certainly was an earthy soul and Ella was a true lady. They were oil and water. He was not totally dense; he knew that Ella was angling for a level of commitment that he wasn’t sure that he was comfortable with. The refined lady needed to know that this was his home and that Vin was his foster son, and to see a typical day in the Larabee-Wilmington household.

Ella stomped off.

“Mebbe you shoulda told her to wear jeans?” Vin said.

“Come on, Cowboy, let’s get Jalapeno and his mom into the corral.”

~*~

Vin hung over the top rung of the fence, legs dangling, as Chris gently coerced Jalapeno around the pen. The foal gangled on long, knobbly legs, getting used to being several footsteps away from his mother and to being handled.

He glanced sideways at Miz. Ella, she didn’t look very happy. Vin wondered what she would think when they had to clean Jalapeno and Chilli’s stall out after Chris had finished.

“So what happened to your mom and dad, Vin?” she asked.

Vin shrugged and decided that he didn’t like her, it weren’t polite to ask him about his mom and dad.

“How long have you been with Chris?”

Vin shrugged. Chris slowed to a stop and carefully mapped the length of Jalapeno’s back with his hands. The foal quivered. Then he treated Jalapeno to a piece of carrot. Vin perked up. He liked feeding the horses.

“Is JD your brother?”

“Yup.” Vin slithered down the fence. “Can I come in, Chris?”

“Yes.” Chris held out his hand. “Move slowly and you can pet Jalapeno.”

Vin crept slowly to Chris’ side, tucking up neatly against his hip. At Chris’ encouraging nod, he reached out. The foal was silky smooth, and warm like his mom’s hugs. Carefully, Vin ran his hand down Jalapeno’s neck.

“What we gotta do next, Chris?” Vin asked softly, entranced by the foal, but knowing that ‘things needed doing’.

“Would you like to help me brush Chilli?”

“Yeah.”

~*~

“Go on, Vin.” Chris patted Vin in the general direction of the house. “Grab a quick shower and use soap! I’ll be checking.”

“But…”

“Wash your hair.”

“Do I have to have a bath tonight?” Vin bargained.

“Depends on whether you get into anything this afternoon.” Chris pointed. “Go!”

Vin skedaddled.

“Is it always like that?” Ella asked. She moved to cup his elbow, but changed her mind in the face of chore debris.

“With kids? Yeah, pretty much so. Vin’s better behaved than most, he just doesn’t like getting washed.”

“Really.”

Chris eyed Vin just reaching the deck, and yelled, “And remember washing hair involves shampoo and rubbing your hair – not just standing under the water.”

“K, Chris,” Vin said begrudgingly and dragged his feet into the house.

“Will you have a shower?” Ella asked.

Chris sniffed. “Hmm, yeah. I’ll be checking on Vin first.”

He scrubbed his hands clean in the mud room, and retrieved his watch from his pocket, absently noting that it was time to make Vin a small snack.

“What?” Ella asked reading his face.

“Gotta feed Vin.”

“We can go out to lunch if you’d like. There’s a couple of nice cafés in Four Corners. They should be open in an hour or two.”

“Vin’s dietician wants us to feed him every couple of hours.” Chris stepped into the kitchen, arrowing to the refrigerator.

“You’re dirty.” Ella stopped him. “I’ll do it – you go take a shower, please. Please, take a shower,”

Chris laughed lowly.

“What do I give him? Do you have something medical?”

“No, he’s off the fortified milk. A small cheese sandwich and a glass of juice or milk.” Chris smiled. “Thanks.”

Chris took the stairs to the second storey three at a time. He ducked into the boys’ bathroom.

“How are you doing, Cowboy?”

“I’s fine.” Vin poked his head out from behind the curtain and Chris saw ample evidence of soap usage.

“Remember to rinse off properly.”

Vin ducked back. “K, Chris.”

Shaking his head at the hereto unknown competency at washing hair, Chris moved to the boys’ bedroom. Rifling in the drawers he pulled out a fresh pair of shorts, underthings and warm, slightly baggy t-shirt.

“There’s clean clothes on your bed, Vin,” Chris called.

“K.” The water turned off. Slightly suspicious, Chris returned to the bathroom.

“You finished?”

“Nope.” The water splattered again behind the curtain. Chris waited patiently. While his body screamed for cleanliness, unfortunately Vin needed a degree of supervision.

~*~

Vin skipped down the stairs, hair dried and dressed in fresh, nice smelling clothes. It was warm enough to walk without socks and shoes. His feet left damp footprints on the wooden stairs. He jumped the last three steps, lightly landing on the hall mat, which slithered along the polished floor most satisfactorily. Chortling, he set the carpet aright.

“Did you dry your hair properly?”

Vin froze staring up at Miz. Ella on the stairs.

“Yup, used the hairdryer and everything.” He wasn’t entirely sure that he could get a comb through it, though. “Where’s Chris?”

“Having a shower.”

“Chris likes showers.”

“Most reasonable human beings like being clean,” she said sourly.

Vin immediately backed away from Chris’ lady friend – leaving her on the stairs. He didn’t like her, even though she smelled kinda nice. Luckily Chris had said that she was only going to be visiting for a little while – then maybe she would go back to wherever she had come from. Vin huffed frustrated, if’n he met her on the street he would have kept JD well away from her. But Chris liked her. It was a mystery. Trotting into the kitchen he angled towards the snack on the kitchen table. Vin scowled at the large glass of milk. He had had his glass of milk today with breakfast; he didn’t have to have another one.

“Bluck,” he gagged. He picked up the glass carefully using two hands and walked over to the refrigerator. He wasn’t too sure why Chris had used one of the good glasses instead of his dino mug.

Two hands, door. Ah. Vin crouched down and set the glass on the floor and then opened the fridge door. He manhandled the almost full plastic carton down on the ceramic tiles, and then carefully poured the milk back into the container.

“What are you doing, Vin?”

Vin jerked, almost losing his grip. Focussed on the carton he had missed Miz. Ella’s approach.

“Don’t like milk. Doc Jake sez I gotta drink it, but I’ve had my glass today.”

“Perhaps Chris thought that you should have two glasses?”

“Is Chris coming?”

“He’s still in the shower.”

“It’s taking him forever.”

Ella smiled. “How about I make some chocolate milk instead of normal milk?”

“Chocolate milk? Chris doesn’t buy chocolate milk.”

“Surely you make hot chocolate.” Ella rummaged around in the cupboards, chortling when she found a container of cocoa.

“What you doing?”

“Making you chocolate milk.”

“Hot chocolate? It’s not bed time.”

“Pass that carton up.”

Curious, and willing to try chocolate milk (not from a bought carton), Vin crouched down, picked up the heavy milk container and then tottered over to Miz. Ella’s side.

“Thank you.”

At her elbow, Vin watched. She mixed a couple of spoonfuls of cocoa in the bottom of the glass and then added several spoonfuls of sugar. Vin’s eyes widened, Chris didn’t let them have that much sugar. She added a drop of warm water from the kettle.

“What you doing?”

“Making a paste so it dissolves in the cold milk better. It’s a pity you didn’t have any syrup.” She shifted and Vin couldn’t see what she was doing.

“Are you going to eat your sandwich, Vin?”

Vin moved away from her, Chris might like her but she wasn’t as nice as she pretended to be. She just liked Chris. But Chris had told him to be nice to her. Standing next to the table, he munched on the cheese sandwich and pondered further on it.

“Chris?” He called through a mouthful of bread and cheese, he couldn’t hear the shower.

“Here’s your milk, Vin.”

“Thanks.” He sniffed the contents, it smelled nice. There were a couple of blobs of dark chocolate on the top which looked a bit weird, but he’d drunk worse. It tasted nice. He glugged it down, relishing the chocolate niceness.

Ella wandered out of the kitchen humming under her breath. Vin heard a hairdryer running. He washed down the rest of the sandwich with the milk. There was chocolate paste at the bottom of the glass. Vin tried to get his hand in the glass, but it was too narrow. He trotted over to the kitchen counter to get some more milk. Doctor Two Eagles’s would be happy; he was going to drink lots of milk today.

Vin yawned and staggered sideways almost losing his grip on the glass. He yawned again and then stood stock still as the room made a lazy swirl around him. The glass slipped through his fingers, bounced on the tabletop and slid off. Vin watched it slowly fall. It seemed to stop just before it hit the floor and then it shattered. Light rainbowed across the tiles as fragments of glass ran everywhere.

“Chris,” Vin whimpered as he joined the glass on the floor.

~*~

About to knock on the door, Ezra paused at the sound of shattering glass. Fist clenched, poised to tap, he listened. As an ATF agent, he didn’t walk blindly into unknown situations, and it made no difference whether it was a Mafioso lair or a colleague’s home. Cars were on the driveway, someone was home, but there was no response to the noise. Ezra slipped silently along the deck making for the back of the house. He slithered up to the kitchen window and peered into the room.

His mind stuttered in shock; on the floor a small hand poked from behind the kitchen table. Furtively, he moved, but the angle of the table top made it impossible to see anything else of the figure. His heart told him to run into the room, his head made him pull out his cell phone. Gaines walked into the kitchen.

Later Ezra tried to recall if he had opened the kitchen door or somehow teleported through the kitchen window, but he couldn’t remember.

Gun out, he pointed it at the woman. “Step back.”

“Vin’s hurt,” she protested.

“Back off.” Gun trained at her chest, he eased forward. Glass crunched beneath his heels. Smoothly he crouched down. The child was curled on his side, head tucked down. Vin was as pale as washed out linen. Ezra still held the cell phone.

“I…” Ella took a step towards them.

Ezra set the phone on the floor and felt for the pulse at the child’s neck. For a heart stopping moment he couldn’t find it, then a single pulse thudded against his finger tips.

“Face down on the floor,” Ezra ordered.

“No.”

“Now.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me.”

“Damn right I will.” He powered to his feet and advanced on the woman, wanting to contain her as an unknown element.

“Chris!” she shrieked and brought up her knee. Ezra twisted and caught the blow on his hip. He didn’t like to but he caught the hand she brought up to slap him with and twisted it around, spinning her. She hit the wall face first and Ezra pinned her arm between their bodies in a painful lock. Holstering his weapon, he freed his handcuffs and clicked them around the narrow wrist.

“You bastard,” she gritted out. “I’ll tell Chris.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Ezra said, hoping. He manhandled her other hand up and locked them together. “Down.”

Controlling her descent he got her face down on the floor. There wasn’t anything to tether her to. He yanked off one of her sandals ignoring her yelp and tossed it into the hall. Pulling out a plastic tie-wrap he bound her ankles.

Keeping one eye on her, he returned to Vin’s side. He retrieved his cell phone and called the PD dispatcher. He gave the details almost by rote as he checked over Vin. His skin was cold and clammy, there was no evidence of wounds and he was breathing horribly rapidly. Another crash surrounded though the house. Ezra stood and trained his weapon on the woman.

“Chris?” he called.

The man was torn, stay with Vin or check the noise? Buck’s fire engine red truck had not been parked out front, but that didn’t mean that little JD was with him. His suspicions, were that, suspicions; he had no evidence that Ms. Gaines was up-to-no-good. Gut feeling made him secure the woman, yet, if she was not responsible for Vin’s condition could the assailant be elsewhere in the house holding Chris or JD? Or maybe a partner was lurking behind the door.

“Sir? Agent Standish?” the dispatch operator spoke loudly.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“The ETA on the police is five minutes, ambulance ten.”

The crash sounded again, followed by what was unassailably a grunt, a typically Christopher Larabee grunt.

“Damn.” Torn, Erza felt again for Vin’s pulse. It was disturbingly slow. “Make it faster. I may have multiple victims.”

His eye caught a flash of red. A little spot of blood was forming by Vin’s knee. Ezra caught himself before he moved him; Nathan’s first aid lectures echoing in his ears. It was growing very slowly. The woman swore and shrieked.

“Shut up or I’ll gag you,” Ezra snarled. He guessed that Vin been cut by the glass and it wasn’t serious.

Ezra slipped out of his jacket and laid it carefully over Vin. Still torn, he moved to the hallway, keeping an eye on Vin and the woman. The hall was clear.

“I’m going to make another phone call,” he informed the woman on the end of the line and ended the call. Without looking at the key pad he called Buck.

“Hey, Ez.”

“Is JD with you?” Ezra asked without preamble.

“Er, yeah. You want to talk to him?”

“Not at the moment, no. Where are you?”

“What’s going on, Ez?”

“There’s an incident going down at the ranch.”

“Incident! What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that you take JD to Mrs. Potter’s before you come here.”

“What the Hell’s going on?”

“Just do it. Then, and only then, get your ass over here.” Ezra closed the connection and redialled the dispatcher.

“Agent Standish?”

“Trudy, I’m moving through the house, I’m staying within sight of the kitchen.”

“You should be able to hear the sirens soon.”

The ranch stood on two storeys; den, sitting room, rarely used dining room, kitchen, and mudroom with a small bathroom on the lower floor. Upstairs there was the boys’ room, bathroom, the guest room, and Buck and Chris’ rooms with an en suite. The ranch was a bit of a warren. It had been built originally in the 1900s, then, well after the Second World War, Sarah’s grandparents had extended the basic house adding a new kitchen, den and rooms upstairs. There was no way for him to hold the kitchen if he went up to the bedrooms, an intruder could make it down the back stairs and get to Vin.

Chris would understand.

He heard sirens. Ezra slipped back into the kitchen and to Vin’s side. Unerringly, he felt for Vin’s pulse, it was sluggish.

“What did you do to him, witch?”

“Nothing. Perhaps he’s developing meningitis.”

“Without a fever? What do you take me for?”

“Did…”

Footsteps clattered on the wooden deck. Ezra had counted multiple sirens; so police officers would be approaching by the front and back of the building. He pulled his ATF ID from his breast pocket to lay face up on the floor.

A tall fair skinned, red headed man and an older, shorter, pudgier Hispanic man, passed alongside the kitchen window. Ezra couldn’t fault the noiselessness of their approach but he wasn’t impressed at the clean targets that they presented through the window.

“Put your gun on the floor,” the red head ordered.

“I’m Agent Standish.” Ezra flicked his badge across the polished tiles to stop at the policeman’s foot. “I made the call.”

“ATF?”

“Yes.” Ezra laid a gentle hand on Vin’s blond curls. “This is Vin. The woman attacked him. I believe that his father is somewhere in the house. Look after Vin.”

Free to act, Ezra moved. The crash had come from upstairs. He moved, quickly, but carefully, up the stairs. Registering that, peculiarly, a black hair dryer lay on the landing plugged into the wall he moved on. He heard grunting clearly. Skirting alongside the wall, he paused at the door to Chris’ room.

Chris was spread-eagled across the bed, hands and feet tied to the bedposts. The agent writhed, trying to free himself, grunting through a gag. Incongruously a blanket had been thrown over his legs. He froze as he noticed Ezra. Holding a finger to his lips, Ezra glided to Chris’ side. The pillow under his head was dark with blood. Blood matted his hair on the side of his head. Ezra reached down freed the gag.

“Ez, Vin?”

“Police are with him. Ambulance is on the way. Is there anyone else in the house?”

“Ambulance?” Chris grated. “Did Vin get hurt?”

“Chris! Was Ms. Gaines alone?”

“Is Ella all right?”

Oh shit, Ezra thought. Maybe she didn’t attack Vin? “What happened? How many attackers?”

“I was hit from behind.”

“Damn.” Footsteps clattered up the stairs. Ezra spun away to guard the door. The red headed police officer was taking the lead, his partner covering his ass.

Behind him, Chris ordered, “Damn it, untie me.”

“Check the rest of the house. We don’t know what went down here,” Ezra said to the officers.

“Yes, sir.”

Ezra watched them move into the boys’ room and announce that that was clear, before returning to Chris’ room.

“Ezra!”

The undercover agent held up a finger then checked Chris’ en suite bathroom. It was also clear. He flicked out his switchblade and set to work at Chris’s right wrist.

“Oh, my God.” Ezra saw the bloody gouges and rope burns on his wrist. “What have you done to yourself?”

“I didn’t know where Vin was.”

“I think that you’ve broken your wrist.” He looked at the other bound hand, seeing the colour, swelling and the curious angle of his thumb. “I think you’ve broken both wrists.”

“Just get those damn ropes off.”

With a surgeon’s deftness, Ezra slit the each twine of the rope. Chris grimaced, impatiently, but held still.

“What happened to Vin?”

“I found him unconscious in the kitchen.”

“What!” Chris jerked and Ezra added a cut to Chris’ abused wrists. “Hurry up.”

“I think I’d prefer it if I didn’t sever a vein.” Ezra said. “Whoever tied these knots didn’t want you to use your hands.”

“Leave the damn ropes on my wrist, cut the rope around the bed posts.”

“Chris, your hands are blue. I have to do this.” He freed the wrist. Chris hissed and pulled his arm to his chest. Ezra knew a broken joint when he saw one. He circled the bed, slashing through the ropes at the end of the bed securing Chris’ feet. Kicking off the blanket, Chris curled on to his side

“Hurry up.”

Even his fingernails were blue.

“This is malicious.” Ezra picked at the knots with his razor sharp knife. He found the main line and sliced the twine. The rope parted and Chris pulled his arm to his chest and rolled smoothly off the bed. Ezra reached out to catch him if he fell, but the man was out the door before he could blink. Ezra shadowed him down the wooden staircase. Chris moved smoothly until he reached the kitchen.

Two paramedics were lifting Vin onto a gurney, one at his head, one at his feet. IVs were in place, his t-shirt had been cut away and his narrow chest was dotted with patches and leads. An oxygen mask obscured his entire face and the O₂ bottle rested by his legs.

“What?” Chris gasped. “How is he?”

Simultaneously, the two paramedics looked up at the distraught man.

“I’m his father.”

“He’s showing signs of being poisoned,” the closest paramedic said as he unfurled a blanket

“I’m coming with you,” Chris said curtly.

“I’d insist,” said the bespectacled paramedic as he tucked a thick red blanket around his charge. “You--” he pointed at Ezra, “--help him into my unit.”

The paramedic who was ordering them seemed to be the senior technician; his evidently younger partner was concentrating on assessing Vin’s vital signs. He didn’t look happy. With a curt nod, blond hair falling in his eyes, he directed his senior to begin guiding the stretcher out. Chris shuffled behind the paramedics, rope trailing from his ankles. Ezra spared a glance at the bound Ms. Gaines, and dismissed her.

Another paramedic unit was bouncing up the beaten path to the ranch with Buck’s red truck in close pursuit. Both vehicles had their sirens and blue lights running.

The paramedic who was doing all the talking jerked his chin at the ambulance. “You, sir, go in that one now it’s here.”

“I’m going with you,” Chris stated.

“There’s two units; you’re going in that one. My partner needs to concentrate on your son.” The eyes behind the thick lenses were resolute.

“Ez?”

He doffed an imaginary hat. “I will stay with Mr. Tanner. I…”

Buck’s truck screeched to a halt, and the agent tumbled out, leaving the engine running. Despite ungainly hopping with the aid of his walking stick, he beat the paramedics to their side. “What the Hell happened?”

“Here.” Ezra passed Larabee into Buck’s care, knowing that the paramedics were on his heels. He turned to the men loading Vin into the back of their ambulance. “Hold one moment. You think that he might have been poisoned?”

“It’s a possibility.” The blond paramedic locked the gurney into position.

“I think I know what poisoned him. I’ll get a sample.”

The paramedic nodded curtly. “Hurry.”

Swearing inwardly, but maintaining his outward appearance of calm, Ezra returned to the kitchen. The floor was littered with remains of the paramedics’ treatment, a small amount of blood and the fragments glass. Poison implied a mode of delivery; Vin had been lying amidst broken glass. Ezra grabbed a clean bowl from the dishwasher and crouched down. Evidently Vin had collapsed while holding a glass of what looked like chocolate milk. Chris didn’t buy many kiddie-favoured sugary products; JD on sugar was like a druggie on speed. He scooped up the fragments of glass which held puddles and deposited them in the bowl. There wasn’t much but there might be a trace. He only had a moment, but he coldly regarded the source of the muffled shrieks in the corner of the room. Hatred flared cold and hard in the bound woman’s eyes.

“Gotcha,” he mouthed and then ran to the unit.

He leaped into the back of the unit, sparing a glance at Larabee who had refused to be moved from the end of the vehicle. A female paramedic was trying to draw him away. He jerked his head as she tried to assess the wound at the back of his skull.

“I have the possible source of the toxin.” Ezra sat opposite Vin’s gurney holding the evidence with the utmost of care.

“We’re going now.” The bespectacled paramedic closed the door, effectively excluding Chris and Buck. Hyper-aware, Erza mapped the driver’s footsteps alongside the unit and clattering entry into the driver’s seat. They lurched and then acceleration increased.

“I need some details,” the young, blond paramedic finally spoke as he hung an IV above Vin’s head.

“His name is Vincent Tanner, he goes by the name of Vin, he is seven years old, his low body weight is a result malnourishment which his foster father is attempting to rectify with medical guidance, his general health is fragile as a result.”

The medic darted a concerned glance at him, but nodded at Ezra to continue.

“He is allergic to penicillin-based antibiotics, his blood group is B, he has a history of lower back problems and he’s a fighter.”

“And you are?”

“Ezra Standish, adopted uncle.”

“Benedict.”

“Please to meet you. How is Vin?”

“Any idea what the poison could be?”

Ezra shook his head and held up the bowl, mutely.

Benedict lifted the comm. unit from behind the driver’s seat. “This is Benedict in unit 2-4-9, on route to Four Corners General. I’ve got a seven year old male; approx. 35 pounds; temp 98; heart rate 65 with lots of ectopics; blood pressure 90/50 and a GCS 2-4-4. I’m running a sat of 86% with three litres via an oxygen mask. I’ve placed an IV. No evidence of wounds. I believe we have a case of poisoning.”

Ezra heard clearly. “Secure his airway.”

“Understood.” He replaced the comm. and leaned into the driver’s area. “Gordi, keep it level.”

“K.”

“Can I help?” Ezra asked.

Benedict shook his head. Rifling in a deep box, he extracted two syringes, double-checked their labels and injected pre-filled the contents in the IV. Moving to the head of the gurney, he removed Vin’s O₂ mask. Ezra was struck by the utter paleness of Vin’s skin. Tipping back Vin’s head right back, Benedict ensured that his airway was open. Erza turned away, knowing that the paramedic was going to intubate his young friend.

A heartbeat later Ezra looked back. Vin was intubated and Benedict was hooking up the ventilating tube to a portable unit. Ezra shivered.

“What’s our ETA, Gordi?”

“Two minutes.”

“Faster, man.”

Ezra’s stomach dropped.

~*~

Ezra chased the laden down gurney through the ER. Vin barely took up half of the stretcher, the rest was filled with equipment. A pale, white hand resting on the blood red blanket caught his eye. En masse they banged through double doors. Benedict didn’t pause as he reported all the information he had gathered to the attending physician -- a tall, skinny, pale, brown haired man running at his side.

With a suddenness which was shocking they stopped inside an ER treatment suite. Many hands moved Vin onto the bed.

Benedict heaved in a tense breath. “This man possibly has the poison.”

Ezra held up the bowl.

“Any idea what it is?” the attending physician asked with a smooth, Old Money, upper crust accent.

“No.”

“Right,” he said. “Mary, get that to the lab. And just hope it’s enough. Do you have any other information to impart?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’ll kindly ask you to leave; you’ll be in the way.”

Ezra balked at the command but he followed its logic. Grimacing, he left, every inch of him wanting to stay.

“I want a blood culture times two; CBC with manual differential; IDNR; Chem 7; UA; tox screen -- gut feeling -- check for opiates first,” the physician said. “But, guys, keep your eyes and ears open this might not be poisoning.”

Outside the treatment suite, Ezra sagged against the wall. Ahead of him the doors swung open again, and a furiously protesting Chris Larabee was wheeled into view. A nurse peeled Buck out of the mess of people moving with Chris.

“I need some details about your friend,” she said.

“Miss,” Buck drawled hearing the commotion ahead, “I think Chris is more than capable of answering your questions.”

“Come on, Buck, let’s give the young lady a break. And answer her questions.”

“You’ll answer my questions, Ez. What the Hell happened?”

“Shall we go to the waiting room?” Ezra slid in that direction.

Colour high on his cheeks, Buck slammed through the doors after him.

Ezra spun on his heels to face Buck. “I don’t know what happened. Chris had forgotten the Young-Guest deposition, he asked me to drop it off. Vin wanted some help with some homework. I heard a crash. I entered through the back and found Vin unconscious on the kitchen floor. I suspected that Ms. Gaines was responsible, and I arrested her.”

“Ez!”

The agent shrugged, in hindsight he might have overreacted, but he usually went with his gut feelings. “I waited with Vin until police officers arrived, and then I searched the rest of the house. I found Chris, he’d been attacked and tied to his bed. I believe he broke both his wrists trying to escape.”

“Was it Ella? I mean she’s…”

Ezra chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t know. Her reactions were idiosyncratic, but nothing overt.”

“Okay.” Buck tugged on his moustache, thinking. “Ella is where?”

“Handcuffed and lying on the kitchen floor, where I left her.”

Buck rocked on his heels. “Okay… The cops will still be at the ranch. Somebody attacked Chris, we need CSI out there. I’ll call the Four Corners PD, you call Josiah and Nathan.”

“Where’s JD?”

“I dropped him off at Mrs. Potter’s.”

Both men pulled out their cell phones.

“You can’t use cell phones in here,” the nurse said and pointed imperiously to the exit.

~*~

Chris sat upright on a bed in the neuro ward, braced and bandaged wrapped arms resting on a pillow on his lap. Wounds from his attempts to free himself prevented the standard type casts. They had realigned his dislocated thumb on his wrenched left hand. But surgical intervention, to wire his broken scaphoid and ulna in his right wrist, was necessary once neuro had cleared him and passed him onto orthopaedics. The surgery was scheduled in twenty four hours.

His head was wrapped in white gauze, blond hair matted at the edges. The atmosphere around him was enough to make your hair stand on end. For someone who had been diagnosed as seriously concussed, he was frighteningly alert.

“Whoever tied you up, really didn’t want you to go anywhere,” Josiah noted.

“Vin?” Chris glared.

Ezra paced at the bottom of the bed.

“Buck and Nathan are in the PIC unit waiting room waiting for the doctor.”

“PIC?”

“Paediatric Intensive Care Unit.”

Chris growled through gritted teeth, “Get me some clothes.”

“Chris,” Josiah said evenly, “you’ve got a concussion. You have to stay.”

“I’ll go get a wheelchair,” Ezra said to no one in particular and set off to acquire the item. Chris was not going to stay in the ward, the best that they could hope for was to control his activities. By the time he returned, Josiah had Chris sitting on the edge of his bed. For all his early energy, moving had drained the colour from his face. Solidly supportive, Josiah practically lifted the man onto the chair. Ezra dropped a blanket on Chris’ lap, hiding his bare knees. Grimacing with pain, Chris set his arms on top of the blanket. Josiah slipped a pillow under them.

“Oh, that’s rather clever,” Ezra said noting the latch to attach an IV pole on the side of the wheelchair. He connected Larabee’s pole.

“Are you okay, Chris?” Josiah asked.

“I’ll live. Get me to paediatrics.”

~*~

“Chris!” Buck used his walking stick to get up. “Last I checked you were out for the count.”

“How’s Vin?” Chris didn’t waste time with niceties.

“Dunno. Waiting for an update. His physician came by before and said that he was holding his own.”

“The paramedics said that he was poisoned.”

“I…”

The tall physician who had met Vin when he had been brought in entered the room.

“Doc Shepard.” Buck turned to Chris. “This is Vin’s foster dad, Chris Larabee.”

Shepard moved to shake his hand and stopped. “Ah, I see that you sustained some injuries. My name is Dominic Shepard. I’m a paediatric specialist which is why I was down in the ER when the paramedics informed us that Vincent was being brought in. Were you injured when Vincent was poisoned? Is there anything that you can tell me? Do you know what happened?”

Chris gingerly shook his head. “No, I was going to the bathroom and I got hit from behind. How is Vin?”

Shepard pinched the bridge of his beaky nose. “Your son ingested a cocktail of sedatives. We’ve identified opiates, probably Fentanyl, or a Fentanyl derivative like Alfentanil and possibly chloral hydrate. Which doesn’t make any sense. He was given a toxic amount of Fentanyl for his body weight, but he ate complex carbohydrates which reduced absorption. We pumped his stomach, but he still absorbed significant amounts.”

“Bottom line.”

“Fentanyl and its derivatives are primarily an analgesic but in large doses it has sedative effects. However large doses of opiates can produce rigidity of the chest wall related to stimulation of the spinal cord inspiratory motor neurons and consequently this reaction leads to sustained inspiration,” Shepard said, offering far too much information. “Vincent was having trouble breathing, and he was showing signs of cardiac arrhythmia, which is why we intubated him. He’s still on a ventilator. We’re treating the opiate poisoning with naloxone. But we can’t predict all the interactions of the cocktail of sedatives he was given. We’re flushing out his system, supporting his breathing and monitoring his organs. What we’re doing now is watching your son so we can intervene if he decides to surprise us.”

“Is he--” Chris began, but couldn’t go any further.

“He’s in the best place that he can be,” Shepard said sincerely. “I believe, Mr. Larabee, that you got your son to the hospital in time.”

Chris sagged in his chair.

“Why is it curious that he was given these specific drugs?” Ezra asked.

“Fentanyl acts quickly. Trichloroacetaldehyde monohydrate can take up to an hour. That seems to me to be a mix to knock someone out and then sedate them for a prolonged period of time. If the person who drugged your son wanted to kill him all they needed to do was give him the Fentanyl.”

“You presume that the person who gave him the drugs is as knowledgeable as yourself,” Ezra noted. “What is Fentanyl normally used for? How easily is it available?”

“It’s prescription only and primarily used in pain management in terminally ill patients.”

“Did you find the drugs in the chocolate milk?” Ezra questioned.

Shepard regarded him perspicuously. “Yes, that is how they were administered.”

“I need to see him,” Chris interrupted.

Shepard pursed his lips. “Just for a short period, Mr. Larabee, then you need to go back to your own room.”

Chris was positively green under the bright whiteness of PIC unit’s lights.