Birch '04: Termination

Ezra stared at the screen. He didn't understand why he wasn't getting an answer. He set his jaw and tried again.

.How is Vin.

The word-thoughts swirled in front of him. He scowled when no answer came to replace it. He forced the question again, thinking on it with more emphasis.

.How is Vin.

Still nothing. After a long moment Ezra sighed. He made himself relax, bringing his pulse and body temperature back into check. Calmly he asked the correct question.

.Inform status 05:07.

Immediately the response hovered before him.

.05:07 stable.

Ezra arched a brow and huffed lightly. Nothing if not specific, these damn machines and systems and protocols. He let a breath out slowly.

.Inform status 05:07, location and treatment.

The words swirled and formed, replacing his query.

.05:07 stable. Received repair treatment to: upper left shoulder internal tissue damage. Arterial damage to left quadricep rebuilt. Broken left pelvis rebuilt. 05:07 now in recovery station 3G.

.Inform time 05:07 release.

.Requested denied.

Ezra slammed his fist against the console. He shut his eyes. He knew better than to ask that. All the same he couldn't help himself. He sighed. It was considered useless - unnecessary. Vin was to live, the two of them could continue on as 'BET' - an operational military unit. That was enough. Now get out of the pod and back to your quarters soldier.

He waved an impatient hand in front of his face, the drifting, greenish cast words swirling to disintegrate. It wasn't needed to clear the information - it was all internal, mental processes he was tapping into - but it made him feel better. He levered himself from the chair. The hatch automatically unsealed, sliding back and out of the way above him. Ezra grabbed opposite sides of the opening and lifted himself out of the pod.

Time to get back to quarters indeed.

Ezra maneuvered onto the main deck and walked briskly, subtly throwing out feelers. He was in no mood to talk with anyone right now. He was tired from the mission, one that had been especially hard on them both, unavoidably brutal for his runner despite his best efforts to lead Vin through safe channels to retrieve the chip filled with information 'vital' to Corps that had been lost in transit between moles operating undercover for the military superpower. Of course there was no knowing just how vital it really was. It wasn't for either of them to know - just for them to get and bring back as ordered.

Beyond his fatigue was a gnawing worry, heightened with ghosts of the injuries inflicted on his partner during the engagement skittering beneath his own skin. Ezra continued to creep silently through the bulbous ship, now safely docked back at base, mission accomplished. A murmur aft deck alerted him and he slid against the wall, thinking about how much he just wanted to look like the wall... Nathan, the team's medic, passed by without recognition he was even present.

Ezra was certain the dark-skinned officer was heading towards the pod, intent on prying him out and seeing if he was okay. A sentiment he greatly appreciated, but right now it would be for the best if he didn't have to suffer an encounter with any of the team before he could slip into his quarters and be left the hell alone for a while.

Another two heartbeats and Ezra resumed his silent escape. The door to his cabin opened soundlessly, recognizing his mark when he swept an open hand across the red led readout, the softly glowing panel muting green as he passed through, locking back to red when he waved a hand upon entry, doors sliding shut. Nathan wouldn't have to worry about where he was for very long. When the man Corps had deemed 'over interested' in seeing to the team's care found the pod empty, a search of the ship would be ordered. A search that would reveal Ezra's whereabouts tucked safely in his quarters. The medic was intuitive enough to realize he'd gotten here without detection on purpose and leave him be. He never resented the thorough care Nathan insisted upon following every mission - he just was in no frame of mind to handle that just now.

Ezra sighed once inside, relief filling him that he'd been able to avoid the others, had been able to blend as he'd been experimenting with so his exam with Nathan could come much later. It was a new breakthrough for him with his prexing, one that he hadn't divulged to anyone. If the ability persisted or grew stronger he'd alert the others. He trusted them not to give him away. But for now he was just going to ride it out, see if there was actually anything to the growing presence of the others' energies inside his awareness and his abilities to manipulate his own.

Ezra slumped down onto his bunk, no energy for a sonic wash or even to remove his boots. He rolled onto his left side to face the wall, pushing everything away but his breathing, his heartbeat. If Vin was in medical it would be that much harder to get away with this undetected.

To be honest, it was nothing he should be doing at all.

But after suffering through what Vin endured, helpless in his pod... it left little option to do otherwise.

He had to know Vin was more than 'stable.' Had to hear more than the constant hum that he attributed to the man that lived within him at all times.

Ezra's eyes sealed shut, his body attaining perfect stillness as he sunk deeper into the meditation. He worked to find Vin's trace, following where the ship would have brought the psydrone to be treated. He narrowed as his mind speared forward, stealthily wraithing his way about, sniffing for the scent.

Around the bleak corridors he went, nudging around techs and medical personnel, retreating quickly when the leads ran false, backtracking until he was feeling his way inside the room he knew Vin occupied.

Ezra slowed here despite the inner urgings to pounce on the vibration. This close to Vin was that much closer to discovery. Proceeding with caution was what it would take and he had to feel the other man, so the excruciating slowness was his weapon of choice.

He eased into the space, hovering as he opened breath by breath, allowing himself to expand, senses fingering into the room like seeping water, insipid but discreet. His body lay on the bunk, forgotten, muscles tensed, a sheen of sweat appearing on the compact form.

A trigger here, a trap there - he was wary of it all. Ezra paced the width and breadth of the recovery cell, retracing in overlapping fractions as he passed and passed again. He knew moments of weakness, searing want filling him when his sweep brought him close to Vin, but he fought it.

Safe. It had to be safe.

Ezra continued on until every last molecule seemed to waft with his mark. He relaxed then, finally allowing his exhaustive search to be complete. His tired mind oozed towards Vin, warm and hazy, prodding gently with smiling intent.

A flare of heat ribboned through his insides, a vision of flashing blue eyes and the sensation of strong arms and legs wrapping about him was his nearly instantaneous answer.

He sighed into the embrace, sighed in his bunk, body uncoiling from the determined curl to relax into the very real yet noncorporal hold. An answering sigh tickled inside and he deepened himself into the connection, blowing back all his shields and protections until he was a wide, accessible plane. Along the whole of it stretched Vin, matching, completing.

Ezra let go, for now wanting and knowing nothing but this.

*******

Chris maintained focus on keeping his shoulders squared his body locked. His face hurt from trying to look impassive but he didn't flinch. He just remained, ready and at attention, standing at the far end of the brightly lit room he'd been called to over three hours ago.

Three hours of standing while he was told up one side and down the other what a damn failure his BET team was, what a damn failure that made him in turn. The commander scoffed somewhere deep inside over the idea, the term. BET: Biological Empath Transmitter. What a fucking joke. Like slapping BET on them and making them endure years of training and processing was enough to make them mere 'transmitters.' Like doing their jobs and usually coming out on top was failure.

In theory BET was a good idea. Two individuals kinetically linked, all data transference and mission updates flowing between them in real-time. It removed so many layers of hazard - no miscommunication from Base, no signals lost or equipment failure, up to the minute decisions being nearly instantly relayed to the field. But there were inevitable complications; the Corps could only do so much to take the man out of the machine, much as they hated to admit it.

Which is why he was standing here now. Listening to them argue about what to do with Ezra and Vin. Larabee laughed bitterly, the sound still only within his inner recesses. Correction - what to do with designees 04:07 and 05:07.

Chris almost sighed.

This had happened before. Twice now, making the uppers all the more antsy to figure out a solution this time around. Twice Ezra and Vin had reached 'unacceptable levels.' It had been determined they were there again.

Unacceptable levels. Chris rolled the words around in his head. He could just picture the triangular shaped readout, with the needle creeping more and more into the red, the white area left behind that nice, clean, bland 'acceptable' the Corps coveted so much.

Ezra and Vin were too close. He'd tried to stop it - saw it coming this time around, knew the signs. He could see it in the capable green eyes when he'd ask about the mission, ask about Vin.

Vin. Ezra. Names they used on the team but dared not breathe to anyone else.

He'd tried to stop it but knew it was a futile effort. The growth that happened between his BET was a natural thing, finding its way even in the harsh realm that was Corps regs. Chris blinked, thinking on what he'd done. It couldn't honestly be considered putting a stop to the relationship he saw growing in strength. More like he'd warned them both not to let it show to anyone else but the team.

In Ezra it did show, but only barely. Still, it was there. The answers to Larabee's queries for debriefing would come with tremors. Animation and life that wasn't supposed to exist within an expert psyop. Sparkles of humor, traces of anxiety if Vin had been hurt, triumph he knew was shared inside the blue-eyed psydrone when a mission was a success. In Vin it was easier to detect but also very faint, only visible if one really looked for it. Interest when Chris took the time to explain in detail answers to his drone's harmless questions - how tall was the psyop? Did the actual voice have the same smooth drawl as the ordered, internal commands sounded? There were more questions from Vin; questions the runner didn't dare ask but still lived in the blue eyes. Unspoken wants that echoed inside Ezra as well.

All of these things were more than risky, especially when seen as a whole instead of singular incidents. The 'lapses' were complied as evidence against the two when the traces slipped beyond the protective sphere of the team, the same condemnation rattling around to reverberate back to him and his men: Ezra and Vin were too close.

To him, as Corps serviceman 01:07, it should be too. But to him as Chris, leader and friend to his team of men, it wasn't even a blip on his anxiety radar. He liked that they were so close. It's what made them so good at what they did. That was a point he'd tried to explain time and time again. A point that was conveniently brushed away because no one else liked it, not because it wasn't true.

Chris' eyes flitted to spare a narrowed glance at General Russa. When he'd made mention of this obvious truth in a cyber-conference months ago her rationale for why it was moot was the haughtily sneered: 'No other BET team has this sort of issue. They all perform.'

It was simplistic and accepted, used to quash his argument as wrong. And it was bullshit. The General failed to mention that 'perform' didn't equal a success rate in the 98th percentile. That it was the nuance that always gave Ezra the edge, always got Vin out of there more alive than not, that made for so many mission successes. 'Perform' usually meant the psydrone was little more than a ravaged hunk of meat after going into hostile territory, the psyop a cold, unfeeling shell that took in information and spat it back out again like the terminals they were supposed to be.

Somehow that all added up to acceptable. And Ezra and Vin wanting to know how the other was, wanting to actually see one another was unacceptable.

Despite the fact they hadn't failed in over two years.

Chris blinked slowly three times, counting each flutter. It was either that or let loose with an expletive.

There was another reason Corps was so adamant the closeness be purged. A deeper driving force at work here. Nothing anyone would voice, oh no. Never that. But a suspected 'causational factor in the irrational behavior governing your BET team' all the same.

Ezra and Vin were falling in love. Hell, there wasn't really any more falling to it. But that was just the problem. Love, in any and all forms, was strictly forbidden.

It was an idea borne of good intentions and with good principle, as are many that later become twisted and mutate under the heavy-handed, controlling power of military and government. When Corps was first founded it was decided no one who carried rank as a special operator or dealt with sensitive information could have attachments. The reasoning was simple. No attachments, no weakness.

Too much had been lost in humanity's history when someone with a wife and daughter at home gave up the codekey because said wife and daughter were going to be shot in the head unless they did. A civilian husband was a liability for the extreme covert op agent who was deep undercover. Members of the same high-risk team couldn't be counted on to be rational if their lover was threatened. So remove the vulnerability and strengthen the Corps.

Which it did. Enough so the Corps decided it would be a good idea for everyone. From there the culture of 'no attachments' flared to life and took over. It was to a point now that was well beyond sanity. If you appeared to flinch when someone walked by in a manner that was too intimate you were bundled up and hauled away, set for evaluation and reprogramming. God forbid you carry on with someone in what you hoped was secret. It didn't matter the reason that was given if these people were found out. The Corps took care of the problem, that problem never seeing the light of day ever again.

Chris' lip pulled at the corner just barely. It hadn't always been like this. But then, the adage he and Buck had been saying to each other for so long now - that they were both definitely too old for this racket - was starting to ring truer and truer as the years and the regs piled up.

Ezra and Vin were a conundrum to the Corps. The greedy bastards wanted to wring all they could from the crack team, but the connection between the two made the bureaucrats feel uncomfortably threatened. It had been that way almost from the start.

Chris had selected them based on profiles and records when he'd been ordered to select a new team that would include the BET fighters. Ezra had tested uncommonly high on everything intellectual - Vin on everything physical. Both had a balance of the other as well, Ezra faring just fine with the physical rigors, Vin placing more than adequately on the mental aptitude tests. That combined with the feel he got off both soldiers had convinced Chris these two were the right men for him, the right men to be paired to one another as well.

It hadn't taken long before their reputation got established as being the go-to team for a job that couldn't fail and would likely be impossible not to. Ezra had a deft touch leading Vin, the intel, observations and advise flowing from the psyop in a continual, reassuring hum that wasn't distracting. Nothing unnecessary was ever communicated to the psydrone, but Ezra never left Vin alone either. It was more than a deft touch, it was a human touch. A handling that Vin responded to and thrived under - a response that strengthened Ezra in return.

Chris had seen BET teams gone bad. Sometimes it was the pairings that simply couldn't work. The two minds would combust, the psydrone running amuck, lost and powerless within enemy confines. Meanwhile the psyop would be a closed-off shell, locked in the pod with a dull, lifeless gaze. Nothing could be done to save either.

He remembered a time when the mauled corpse of a runner had been hauled back in. She was bent and broken, her strong, capable body abused to a worthless pile. The lovely, pale almond color her skin had once been reduced to blackened blues, halos of dried blood circling here and there. The psyop hadn't even blinked. Just turned and informed the superior that she'd 'malfunctioned' and he'd withdrawn, leaving her to fend for herself, the sensitive mission and intelligence secured and kept safe.

Her malfunction had been asking for help. Help that wasn't specifically defined within the mission briefing file that had been relayed to the operator. Help that had been automatically interpreted as weakness. So she'd been cut loose.

Chris had shuddered internally when the empty gaze of that man had locked with his, felt rage when the superior had commended the call, was sickened that the operator had been trundled off to be matched with another doomed runner.

Sometimes operators would be lost because their drones would be killed in action, the trauma of experiencing that death through the runner's eyes enough to seal an op's mind off from reality - often for good. Other times it was the operator who would short circuit, the drone having to be called back in for pickup, returned to base to be dumped, the now bereft soldier sometimes left permanently disabled after that loss.

Despite all that BET was a functioning entity Corps garnered more benefit than detriment through, so more drones and ops were trained and pushed through the system, the bureaucrats seemingly blind to the human cost of waste and losses.

Most BET pairs performed adequately. They got their jobs done to Corps satisfaction, mission accomplished. The psydrones spent on average twenty hours more in medlab than Vin did, however, being rebuilt from the wounds inflicted during engagement. Engagement Ezra and Vin as a team often neatly avoided. The average psyop spent even longer than twenty hours during the standard decompression and debriefing relays.

Ezra and Vin were so good because they valued one another. It didn't hurt that Ezra was likely more powerful than the green-eyed man had ever let on, or that Vin had outstanding field instincts. They were highly trained, peak of performance, finely tuned military instruments. But plenty of BET teams had gone down that were more than qualified, failed when the calculations had promised they couldn't. The difference with his was that the two men cared. A caring that had quickly, naturally turned to more.

Chris' teeth etched against themselves in a slow grate. If only that was seen as the boon it was instead of the whisper of sedition.

Doctor Feke, sitting at the far sweep of the arching console table was saying something, the nasal drone rippling over his nerves, playing them for annoyance, anger, hatred. He listened without listening, hearing the same theories on rehabilitation and methods this monster always spewed. After the first unacceptable occurrence the good doctor had been assigned to handling Ezra and Vin, told to cure the two at any cost. Now the outranking officer was stealing smug looks his way while pinching out the redacted claims of what was best for his men, the watery dull brown eyes taunting him to react.

Chris didn't rise to the bait; he was much too good for that. Although, growling a string of menacing threats as he'd once indulged while alone with the clammy, balding doctor would provide a definite pleasure right about now.

Chris had watched as Ezra had endured the wipes and scans, had stood firm and loyal at his man's side when the psytechs had descended to 'revert' the charmer from the southern quadrant back to an emotionless, unattached operator. The process had to be excruciating, the tech minds and machinery working as one to conquer and purge the undesirable familiarity with Vin.

Twice Chris had stayed fast during that. The second time it had been all he could do to convince his superiors and the bastard Feke that it was still a viable option, to try again instead of taking more drastic action.

Chris knew without a doubt he'd never allow it to happen to Ezra again.

Vin's cleaning wasn't as radical, as the drones were only trained to sense and receive information through implanted devices. So the implant had been removed and replaced, the soldier sent through a battery of drills and exercises that was little more than trumped up brainwashing. Then 'restored' Vin would be returned to duty, joined again with a restored Ezra, each time the eye of Corps sharper in its study as the BET reacquainted and performed.

Neither attempt had been successful. Each time they'd started out in even measure, referring to one another by designation only, going about their tasks without question. But soon enough the flaws would creep back and begin to surface again. It didn't take long before the two would fall into patterns of habit that seemed more than instinctual, the familiarity resurging as if it'd never been absent. This last bout of their irrational behavior was the worst yet.

Which is why they were all here, in an honest to god face-to-face meeting. What the hell were they going to do about this aberration.

Chris scanned the room. It was a full assembly; the attention his team merited combined with the trouble Ezra and Vin were causing enough to bring all the politics in for show and tell. Leading the pack of frothing disgruntles was Admiral Howe, a corpulent, nasty fucker who had never liked Larabee and wasn't afraid to show it. Howe liked it even less that 07 functioned so near to flawless in missions.

He sighed internally. To his thinking his men performed flawlessly everywhere, even this supposed subversion that was love between Ezra and Vin.

In the technical manual for duty procedure, the operator was listed as having three functions: to see all that the runner did, deduce the best course of action to achieve mission success and set a course for it to happen and to report back all of what was learned and accomplished back to Corps. The drone was the muscle, sent out into the actual world, their one job to do as they were told.

Most operators had a trace of innate psy ability. Ezra had far more than a trace. Chris had the suspicion that Vin did as well. More than once they'd communicated without being 'active.' It also went a long way to explaining how their bond had grown so strong and remained such despite the invasive tampering it had suffered.

Chris' attention snapped to when he heard the word 'terminate.' His hazel eyes narrowed, mind instantly focusing in on the present, internal musings abandoned. A nerve in his cheek twitched.

Terminate. No fucking way. Not to his boys.

Chris almost sneered.

Outwardly he remained steady, muscles so tense to keep himself in check his whole body ached. 'Immediate' was also being discussed. Vin - rather, 05:07, was already in medlab. Why not just change procedure, shoot the grunt full of enough chem to send him into the next century? Reclamation wasn't even brought up for consideration. They'd wasted enough resources on these two designations as it was.

The atmosphere in the room thickened, the mucky-mucks around the table all stilling while they received an update on the holographic readouts at each of their stations. One Chris obviously wasn't privy to. Admiral Howe stood, puffy face almost purple, contorted with anger. A meaty fist slammed onto the cool, smooth surface of the conference table.

"Those fucking insubordinate wastes of carbon have gone too far! It's more than clear that they're beyond our control!" A beefy finger pointed across the room at Larabee. "They've been out of your control far longer than we should ever have allowed!" The General swiveled back to face the seated panel. "That's it. Today. We terminate today."

Chris didn't growl or lunge at the pompous ass. He knew he didn't because he was swallowing blood right now, teeth clamped tight around his tongue. His fists were concealed behind him, locked at the small of his back. His nails bit into his wrist and he just kept on digging.

He wondered what exactly had happened, wanted the details that had just been divulged to his superiors. But it wasn't his place to argue and he certainly couldn't take a step forward and demand. His presence in the meeting was more formality than anything else. Larabee worked at burying his rage and tried to remain focused. Last time around he'd used all the clout he still carried as a veteran member of the service, burning away almost all of his favors to keep Ezra and Vin under his command, still together as his BET. Termination had been bandied about before but he'd managed to sidestep it.

Chris let his breath out in a long, steady stream.

This time he didn't think he'd be so lucky.

*******

Josiah sat up with a lurching start, the action tumbling his large frame right out of his bunk to land on the cold floor. He stayed, cheek and nose awkwardly pressed into the smooth surface, one hand pinned by his hip, the other still tangled in the blanket to rest on the mattress.

Several times he swallowed, working to breathe as he tried to feel his way past whatever it was that had jerked him awake. A painful tide was sounding in his head, pounding through him with a dull roar. That which woke him had been almost as a starburst of noise, a shrill keen that seemed to split right though him to subside to the continual buzz that now filled him.

He gripped into the blanket, lumbering to an unsteady stand, the hand that had been trapped rising to press strong fingers into his temple. After a moment he staggered towards the door, squinting when it opened to the bright corridor. He weaved out onto the deck, body bent as he tried to think past the disturbance that was currently rattling his brain.

Josiah shuffled a few times until he fell into the wall, shoulder first, grizzled head pressing into the sheer surface. He spun it side to side, wincing gaze taking in the sight of his teammates from under bent position against the wall, each one of the men looking as dazed as he felt. Brown eyes met his, Nathan's question and mirroring pain visible in the swirling depths. He shook his head then worked to push away from the wall.

Josiah tunneled past the static, repeating again and again a steadying mantra he'd memorized from the sacred texts of druids who lived on a far world inhabited by a race of insect-humanoid hybrids he'd once been blessed to witness. Over and over he forced the clicking sounds to recur, wrapping his rational self around the unfamiliar and taxing chore of getting each syllable correct.

Swaying but at least able to focus Josiah raked the hall with his slate gray eyes.

Ezra. Where was Ezra.

He hunkered into himself, grunting as he picked Nathan up from the floor where the long frame had fallen to bend in on itself, wrapping an arm around the thinner man as he pitched towards the psyop's room. Several twisting steps later he collapsed against the door, easing the medic down but keeping hold of one dark hand. This he brought up to the softly glowing panel, swiping the security overriding medical officer's imprint over the identifier.

Josiah was forced to drop the hand when the door opened, barely able to catch himself as he flopped into the open passageway, outstretched hands just breaking his fall before his nose was broken against the floor. With a stuttering huff he clawed forward, arm-crawling to the bunk, forcing his eyes to remain open as he approached.

He hooked his elbows around the edge of the thin bunk that suspended from the wall, levering up so he could look down on his prone friend, worried this mental noise was affecting the sensitive man the most acutely of them all.

What he saw more than worried him.

It was terrifying.

*******

Chris grunted and fell to his knees as if a blow had been leveled from behind. The whole room spun for a long moment then he was able to blink and gather himself enough to right back into a stand.

The table of officials stared at him, mutters of his age affecting him and his allowing himself to deteriorate jumbling with the noise he swore was all around him. He could only assume from the lack of reaction on anyone else's part it had to be coming from a source only he could hear. His fall had nothing to do with the several hours he'd been standing, locked in one position, nor was it that his body had finally given out.

Chris knew something had literally knocked him off his feet. The problem was he had no idea what.

The haze that filled him was low and persistent but manageable. He clenched his jaw and made himself stand fast, not wanting to prolong the conference any longer. It had been just about to adjourn when he'd felt the strange shockwave that'd sent him near sideways. He watched with careful attention as everyone stood, the room as a unit saluting with snap precision, then without another word the group dispersed.

Chris turned on a heel and made a determined exit. The muscles of his legs screamed with agony and relief, impatient to finally stretch but hating every minute of the abuse from his rapid pace. He shouldered past the hive of activity that surrounded the hub of Corps at this base, starting into a trot as he weaved through the crowd of military worker bees all intent on their individual tasks.

He ignored the chirping hail that sounded from his collar, reaching up with his left hand to smash the comm unit between his thumb and index finger. A ripple of satisfaction surged though him. Just the first of many rash acts he had planned.

He nipped aboard a transit craft, flashing his insignia and telling everyone else to get the hell off, withering the two occupants who'd thought to protest his order with a 'you're fucking dead if you even think about staying' glare. With half his attention he coded in his ship's ID, shifting with the small vehicle as it started into motion after locating the correct docking bay.

Chris pressed his palm against the wall, leaning heavily on his arm, the other lifting so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He gritted his teeth and tried to block out the steadily increasing clamor that rounded through his head as he neared his destination.

*******

Josiah folded Ezra close, murmuring ceaselessly as he rubbed deep circles against the muscled back with his flattened hand.

Dull green eyes were rolled towards the ceiling, the pale face devoid, the man inside unresponsive. He kept trying anyway.

He yelled again, helpless not to even though rationally he knew the ship was hovering in near silent sleep mode. He could barely hear himself for all his roaring and he was trying to encourage Nathan closer, the medic stirring but not inching towards him as he'd wanted, instead disappearing back into the corridor.

Excruciating minutes he waited, hissing his internal mantra as he worked to coax a glimmer from Ezra. He cupped his hand under the shorn head, noting distractedly the slip of sweat that filled his palm as he cradled it. Josiah worked his lips to form the man's name, saying it without cease as he held. The jades remained as everything else of the body sprawled over his lap from where he'd dragged the man down from the bunk - completely without.

Josiah's head bobbed up when he saw Nathan's bare feet, eyes cringing when he craned his neck back, the noise almost overcoming him for a moment as he lost center on the mantra. A large hand grasped his shoulder then a spike of cold entered through his neck, effectively ending the mantra and the maddening drone when he passed out.

*******

Chris stumbled forward when the vehicle doors slid open. The whole of his body was thrumming with the distortion of sound, painful in its insistence. He was vaguely aware of Buck, steady blue eyes meeting his with a reassuring nod while arms held him stable. A kiss of cold at his neck then all was quiet.

*******

Chris sat up swiftly, eating back a groan before it could escape. His eyes popped open and he locked gazes with the person standing at the foot of the cot. He nodded curtly. "How long?"

Dark eyes appraised him evenly. "Three minutes." A pause, then the efficient briskness was gone from the tone. "How are you feeling?"

Chris sighed deeply, allowing his shoulders to slump, his face etching with haggard lines of fatigue as his eyes slid back shut, hands loose in his lap. He heard Nathan shift about, accepted the sleek container of water with a parched thanks. After several long draughts he took in a full breath, prying his eyes back open, setting his shoulders to straighten his posture. The water was taken from him and he nodded.

"Guess I'm okay." He scowled, eyes flitting around the small med unit on his ship. His brow arched in question seeing his crew gathered around, the hazel eyes flashing deeper question that Ezra wasn't among them.

"He's right here Pard," Buck's soft voice instructed.

Chris swiveled his head to follow the directive, heart sinking at what he saw. The operator's whole body was passive, lively green eyes closed, the readouts tracking the man's condition barely more than a baseline. He indulged in another ragged sigh. Chris pushed back the battery of questions that wanted answers at the sight of his man near lifeless on the nearby bunk. At least Ezra was stable. For now that had to be enough. Other things needed attending. He cleared his throat, meeting Nathan's waiting eyes again.

"What did you give me - and how did you know what was wrong?"

Nathan smiled wanly. "Some of Ez's drugs, ones I'm supposed to give him when a mission has been especially tough and he needs a literal mental break."

Chris nodded. He knew about them, knew also the operator's reluctance to take them as well. Ezra had often said how very dulling the meds were, making the psyop feel groggy and useless rather than refreshed as they were supposed to. Chris never insisted they be taken as long as Ezra was candid about his condition and to agree to take them when absolutely necessary. They'd sparred a few times on what exactly absolutely necessary meant, but when push came to shove Ezra did what was best - for the team and for himself. That was more than enough for him.

Chris tilted his head to the side. "Why'd you give us Ez's meds? Aren't they for dampening acuity? What about that would we need?"

Nathan's eyes got narrow, thoughtful. "Whatever," the broad hands gestured through the air vaguely, "that was that ripped through us all, it was internal. Mental. I figured if the drugs muted the effects of Ezra's psyabilities then it'd likely knock out any of the processes we can tap into, stopping the noise." The medic grunted with satisfaction. "Tried it on myself first. Happy to say it worked. Woulda driven me right outta my mind otherwise."

"Did you give some to Ezra too?" JD's voice broke through the pensive silence that had followed Jackson's cryptic sentence.

"That's just the thing - I didn't."

Nathan moved away from the foot of Chris' cot, traveling across the small confines of the lab to point at the readings that just looked like streams of colors to the team's commander. The deep voice explained while Jackson pointed.

"The basic functions are just above 'alive'... heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity."

Next Nathan pressed a palm into the neighboring wall console, the ebony surface dancing to life, echoing the colored lines that drifted over Ezra. The difference was marked. The free hand traced down the wall to stop at a vivid green line, thumb resting over Nathan's readings, pinkie finger just touching Ezra's.

"Here's the real interesting part. This line is for tracking the intransitory brain patterns," Nathan turned towards the circle of men, free hand gesturing. "This is all the stuff that's happening well above basic brain activity." Dark eyes scanned the room to meet each of the waiting teams' gazes. "It's the only place and way anyone has found for tracking psy occurrences." Nathan's head shook slowly. "Ez's is usually jumping, crazy with motion. He's what you'd term 'off the charts.' Mine is usually 'bout as flat as Dormus 5."

Chris' brow shot up. Dormus 5 was a desert wasteland with only a trace of an atmosphere. There wasn't even a wind to create dunes - just miles and miles of unbroken sand like a strange and shimmering ocean, but dead and brown instead of quenching blue.

"But the lines look identical." Buck's quiet voice had the same anticipation of pique that everyone else was feeling.

"Yeah, I know." Nathan stepped away from the wall, hand falling down to rest at the tall man's thigh. The panel subsided back into darkness. He came to join the others, sighing, dark head bending down in reflection.

Chris lifted his hands. "Nate?" If he hadn't have prompted with the query, there was no telling how long the man would have pondered the mystery with internal deliberation.

Nathan nodded, one palm out in a pacifying gesture, mouth a quirk of an apologetic smile. A long sigh was followed by quiet words. "Ezra is more or less barely breathing. His mental activity is nowhere near what it should be. It's also uncharacteristically stable... almost like he's stuck on one single thought and can't get out of it or away from it. I'd guess that has to be pretty maddening for him. But right now it seems to be the only thing keeping him going." Nathan glanced over to Ezra, then after a long pause he added, "I think the noise we all heard came from Ez - and I think it's still going on inside of us, it's just the meds are keeping it from being perceived. I think our group... closeness," his face twisted, as if the word wasn't enough, but he shrugged and continued on, "coupled with Ez's abilities made it possible for us to tap into him - for him to tap into us."

Murmured questions rounded the small room. What could have caused it. Why was it still going on. Could Ezra recover. What did it mean that they'd heard it. Would they continue to hear Ezra in the future.

Chris' eyes eased shut. Without realizing it was aloud he cursed, the sound hissing violence. All conversation ceased, capturing his attention from the murky place it had wandered. He shook his head.

"Vin. They must have cut him off from Vin." His voice was rough, tinged with palpable anger. Chris hoped that's all it was. He grunted. As if that wasn't enough.

"Chris?"

JD's voice had him opening his eyes, tilting his head back up to meet the compassionate brown gaze. He nodded.

A tongue peeked out to lick lips before JD spoke again. Even in the relative safety of their inner circle it was still a difficult matter to voice. He cleared his throat then said resolutely, "I thought that wasn't possible for Corps to take from them anymore."

Chris' jaw set. His whole team was aware of how deep the connection ran between the BET, one that kept the two in contact even without Vin being technically 'active' and thereby having the extrasensory enhancer protocol on through the series of chips that had been surgically implanted into the runner's brain. It was a condition his two men had achieved that would likely get them all court martialed - if not worse - for knowing about it and doing nothing but support it.

Chris could only assume Corps had tapped in somehow, that some sort of surveillence had betrayed Ezra and Vin when they'd been recuperating from their most recent mission. Whatever it was that had been overheard and broadcast to his superiors during their meeting must have been very bad. At least by Corps standards.

He flicked a glance Buck's way, wondering how to say what his fear was for how removing Vin from Ezra had been accomplished - and how cruelly informed Corps must truly be by now.

Blue eyes understood him then, fading with dawning sadness.

"Shit, hoss... termination?"

Chris nodded, swallowing a few times before rasping hoarsely, "Yeah. Couldn't argue around it this time." He shook his head, feeling helpless and filled with rage. He gritted out, "Something happened while we were in that meeting - I don't know what, but it was enough to give Howe the push he needed to get everyone else to agree it was time."

The team sobered further, Josiah's big frame shifting closer to Ezra's prone form in a protective gesture. The air had a feeling of grim determination.

Buck's blue eyes continued to study him. "I'd say from that," a long finger pointed towards Chris' neck, "you came to your own conclusions about what to do as well?"

Chris tucked his chin, trying to look at the smashed comm on his collar. He nodded. "Yeah. Got some ideas." He let out a breath with a short huff, pushing off the cot to stand. He faced his men, hazel eyes intense. "I'd advise any of you who wants to keep their careers with Corps intact to leave - I don't care where you go, I just ask you wait 24 hours before resurfacing. Your choice, one I won't hold against you." He paused, then knew he had to add, "It won't just be your position in jeopardy. It'll be your lives."

Chris snapped his heels then, nodding once. He spared a moment for Ezra, wrapping his fingers around his man's shoulder, telling quietly all would be done within his power to make things right again - and if things couldn't be fixed for the team, for the lovers, then he'd exact brutal retribution in their stead best as he could muster.

A final squeeze then he strode out of the lab, calling behind him, "I'll be on the bridge."

*******

"C'mon, Nate. Let's just get this over with."

Buck smiled at the medic, opening his hands in a wide sweep out from his lap where he was sitting. The dark eyes hesitated and he looked around the dark, cramped space. His smile softened.

"Nothing that'll kill me is out here - you know it, I know it. 'Sides, there's equipment on board to get me clean and sterilized soon enough. But we also know there ain't any use in trying to get away if I bleed any of what you're taking out in there," he jerked his thumb behind him, indicating the sleeping hulk of a black, iridescent ship, sleek and deadly even in repose.

He watched Nathan's mind come around to the decision, the medic nodding and coming close. Those thoughtful eyes met his.

"Likely to hurt some, but not bad and not for long. You just sit tight and think about other things. I'll get them all out."

Buck bobbed his head back, handsome face trusting and sure. He shouldered out of the tunic part of his uniform, balling the fabric in a hand then stilled again. His fingers played over his own comm, now in the same crumpled shape Chris' was in. All of theirs were like that. It was something Buck had noticed right away about his old friend when the blond had staggered off the transport skid, something that seized his blood cold as it churned to a halt, then started a fire deep inside that got his veins humming again. Larabee had decided it was time to find some trouble - or trouble had found Larabee and the stubborn cuss was going against it headlong.

Which meant, of course, that Buck would be right alongside, pitched at full tilt.

Whatever instrument Nathan was using pinched tissue far into the meat of his arm and he flinched, breath skidding once, but otherwise he didn't react. He just kept fingering the now useless link to Corps, thinking on what the team had unquestionably agreed to do.

Secure Ezra, find Vin, smuggle the drone outta medical or wherever, then beat it outta here with the hounds of hell snapping at their heels.

Chris had outlined a decent plan on the bridge after the team had followed their commander only a step behind. Split up - one group going for Vin, the other stowing Ezra away and getting their means out readied. That was his job, why he and Nate were here, deep in the bowels of the interworkings that was Base. The whole place was a labyrinth, Corps never 'wasting' the resources to raze the old, just building on top and sprawling up and out. It left the abandoned sections the perfect place for all those lurid, shady activities Corps strictly forbade. Buck snorted. The damn military always was too short sighted about things.

Before he and Nate had spirited away with Ezra, the medic had removed the internal ID tagging system from the group going to rescue Vin. Now Chris, Josiah and JD were out there, intent on getting Vin, the plan for them to meet here. JD was going to pick the locks, Josiah to cart Vin around once found and Chris was going for bluster and show in case they got stopped - and because the man wouldn't settle to do anything so passive as what Buck was here for.

By the time the four men got back, he was to have the beauty behind him up and running. The Renegade was once again going to see some action.

He smiled fondly and the gesture twitched when the needle-fine pinchers dug into his back. A strong hand steadied around his shoulder, tightening in reassurance and question. Buck grunted. The nerve bending removal continued.

The Renegade was the ship he and Chris had served on together, so long ago now. It felt like eons. Shit, with as old as they were it almost was.

He and Chris had entered the academy together, intent on seeing the galaxies and being of service to their home planet, dear and distant Earth. They'd signed up well before Corps, well before the streamlining and the regs and the dehumanizing that surrounded them now. Buck knew it was only a matter of time before they both broke away, the forming of 07 the only thing keeping them both anchored to the stinking bastard military organization.

It hadn't been so bad at first, then after awhile the worse stuff that came along he just stopped noticing, stopped wanting to notice. Oh, he and Chris had talked about it. Ways to get out, ways to escape. But it wasn't easy, nothing so straightforward as handing in your walking papers and seeing where retirement would take you. Corps preferred to lose their people through causality. And no matter how desperate it got neither he nor Chris were ready for that.

Buck had felt rejuvenated being selected for second in command of the team, working directly under his good buddy Larabee, stewarding Dunne and getting to be pals with the other boys. Everyone but the operator was allowed to interact with Vin and Buck liked the lean runner, the intelligence behind the blue eyes - the mischievous humor that lived there too. It was the same sparkle he saw in Ezra, sparkles he wished he could see dance off one another in the same place, at the same time.

He knew the two communicated. Knew they likely had a deeper connection than anyone else on the team despite never having seen each other. Corps had firm policies on everything, no reason that unbending mindset shouldn't be applied to BET as well. Some experts at some point in time had decided the two parts of the whole of the psyteams should never meet, that physical interactions would be creating a false intimacy that could not be allowed to be fostered by continuing contact. So Ezra and Vin relied on one another for their very lives, had become friends then fallen deeply into something more, but would never consummate even a handshake.

Buck had accepted that rule, as he had all the others. No way not to really. All the same he thought it a goddamn shame, shared that impotent resentment with Larabee who had smiled sadly, his old friend understanding his fury all too well. In time the whole team was in on it, aware and hating it and just as resigned. But at least they'd all been together, a team - a family.

He expression clouded. It had been good enough. But those fuckers went too far this time and that was it. End of story. And not a goddamn chance were they going to get away with it. Buck didn't care what it took. He was also personally going to see to it they were all made it out alive.

Nathan circled around to his front and gestured so he hopped off the corroded storage barrel to stand. He stepped out of his uniform pants and then let his underwear slide down as well, one already bare foot then the other lifting out of the gray-blue puddle. The work resumed.

Buck stared at Ezra, the unresponsive form of his friend lying quietly where he and Nathan had put the operator when they'd arrived. That was nearly an hour ago. Nothing about the green-eyed man had changed in that time. He gave a fervent minute over to praying that the others found Vin, that the lean soldier was still alive, that both could be rescued.

"Okay - hold still for the pulse, then you're all finished."

He nodded then closed his eyes, planting his feet and relaxing his frame so he could remain steady during the burst. Nathan pressed the device into his ear and Buck heard the strange ripple, felt the energy as it spiked through him, killing off the remaining trace elements of the Corps ID netting that had been set into his body so long ago. They were used for just about everything, from tracking whereabouts at all times to identifying even a single droplet of blood. The pulser to short circuit the remnants had cost a pretty penny, but was vital if they wanted half a chance of escaping intact. Anyone wanting to get away from Corps undetected had to have it, because even medics as good as Nathan couldn't get everything that was tunneled inside all military personnel.

Buck opened his eyes and smiled, the twist of his lips not catching to warm his eyes, Nathan looking right back at him with the same pensive but determined gaze. He lifted his arms away from his body and allowed the hand-held sonic washer to be passed over his person, turning in place when his front was thoroughly clean. Nathan walked over to the sealed bag of civvies that had been left on another upturned barrel, grabbing the outside of the thick plastic and tearing at it until it gave and opened under the pressure. Nate stepped away, careful not to touch any of the contents inside.

A brown eye winked. "I'll get started on Ezra, give you a call when he's clean so you can come get him dressed, get him inside."

Buck nodded. "Gonna need any help with yourself?"

Nathan's head shook slowly. "Nah. I'll manage from there." The distinctive features scrunched in a grimace. "Never a fun chore fishing for the nodes in yourself, but it can be done. More important you see to getting her," the head inclined towards the Renegade, "up and running in time."

"Yeah. You're right." Buck finished dressing, just as careful as Nate had been not to touch the exterior of the bag as he got his clothes out. He jerked his chin towards the psyop. "Just lemme know 'bout Ez. I'll be right out for him."

Jackson grunted and the two stood for a moment, regarding each other.

Buck shook away. "Thanks Nate," he said softly. He smiled wanly then kept going. "Best get a move on. Only got another hour, if that, 'fore Corps likely tracks us here."

He grinned at the Renegade, thinking on how he and Larabee had stashed her here as a "just in case" measure when Corps rolled through all those years ago. He walked up to the seamless skin, searching for the small divot on the belly of the ship, memory rushing back at top speed as he got the feel of her again. A light press of his finger was followed by a low hiss, then the entry hatch popped out soundlessly. Buck pulled it towards him and boosted up inside.

*******

Nothingness. Empty blankness. Cold.

Not even a trace remained of the omnipresent warmth he'd come to subsist upon. In a single instant it had been eradicated, the whole of Vin taken from him.

He lay quiet and unmoving, trying to disappear back into the memory of those last moments when they had been connected.

The sensation of Vin all around him. Even the heat and the scent of the man carried across to fill him. The sure feeling of solidity. The silence that wasn't because it was silence they shared.

The lying within each other that was all Ezra wanted, a need he craved so deeply it had become a vital part of his existence. During that sweet time before Vin had been...

He shuddered internally, not able to push his mind near the gaping maw that formed the rest of the thought. Emotions retreated, the peripheries of his mind convulsing to tighten further, closing himself off from the hurtful beyond that was outside the single memory.

Vin. Those brilliant eyes opening to his mind, blinking and holding his gaze so securely.

Vin. Arms pulling him closer.

Vin. The lightly rasped whisper echoing inside. Words he'd never heard before.

Ez, I love you.

Though foreign the sentiment hadn't surprised him, that phrase which sounded from his solar plexus to ripple outward. Nor had it been difficult to draw Vin closer, sharing that ripple so it danced through both of them, taking the words and making them his own.

As I love you.

A flirt of a laugh then a breathless moment.

Those burning eyes dipping closed as the handsome face dipped close.

Further warmth about him, tickling his face, his eyes giving in to the pull of sudden gravity.

The barest touch, a finger tracing his cheek, his lips tingling in anticipation, knowing and wanting what was to follow despite never before having tasted it.

He'd breathed invitation on a delighted sigh, waiting, waiting.

Ezra curled into himself, sharp pain lancing through him.

There was no more.

Vin had ceased and without him Ezra was nearly dead as well.

He felt weightless and yet it was impossible to escape.

He allowed the darkness to seep closer.

Ezra sunk further, loosening the last of his tethers.

*******

No time to stop and reflect. No time for questions, for making sure they really were all okay and would be when this was all over. Just boots to the ground and let's get a running boys.

Chris closed his eyes briefly, certain he was doing the right thing, hoping like hell they wouldn't all be slaughtered in the process. For that's what would happen. There was no going back from here. No 'reeducation' from Corps to fragment whatever synapse flared haywire in their brains and reduce them once again to obedient soldiers.

This was treason of the highest order. Pure and simple. Moreover their goal was dangerous, and with danger came violence and all of this would doubtless end in them having to kill somebody. More likely somebodys. Corps would waste no further time on them and they'd be obliterated, their molecules zapped to vapor.

Which for Chris just made another good argument against failure.

He narrowed his gaze and watched JD's fingers flying through the greencast matrix that hovered in front of the computer whiz, the interface having sprung to life just like all the others as they hacked their way deeper and deeper into Med. The kid had proven more than adept at picking the electronic locks, getting past the DNA verifications, the retinal scans, the areas that required your ID network be scanned as you passed through.

All this JD handled with efficient ease. Chris remembered all the questions that JD had driven him and the others nuts with - anything and everything about how the ID systems worked, their reactions to the DNA verifications, how it all felt. On and on. Right now he was damn glad JD had pestered them so much, had spent all that time learning the ins and outs of the tech systems that held Base together and running.

It was the only thing that had got them this far.

Chris and Josiah were on either side of the glaring white hallway, JD focused on the readout, fingers plucking and working at the data until it morphed to make a picture that said 'unlocked' to the mainframe that controlled everything. They were almost to Vin now and so far luck was holding. The signal they'd been following to know Vin's whereabouts had stayed put - an implant a "paranoid" Chris had insisted early on all his crew have and no one else know about.

It was a good thing they had it - finding Vin would have been impossible otherwise. All the wards in Med looked identical, long and twisting halls ending in groups of rooms without windows so there was no way to check and see who was inside, no good way to escape once you were bogged within the labyrinthine structure.

Their internal ID nets had been removed as well, Nathan already well prepared for this potential reality - to the point that the man even had a contraband pulser tucked away, just in case. Their growing disgruntled feelings combined with their nonconformist methods and questioning ways had well come to their aid for facing this threat down. All of them had easily made the leap from good Corps solider to dirty rat treasonist. Chris had never been prouder.

Jackson had worked quickly on the three of them and now the sensor array that lived in everything Corps made would find nothing in their endless sweeps and searches, much to Chris' grim satisfaction.

Between Chris using the last vestiges of his authority and their ID nets no longer posing a hazard, getting here had been relatively easy. They'd taken the straightforward approach, riding the commandeered transport skiff to the main platform of Med. He'd run with the adage "look like you belong and people will take you at your word." It had worked

Time wasn't on their side, so messing around with subterfuge and an elaborate cover for getting here seemed impossibly impractical. It was a calculated risk to show up as if they still had the right, but one they were more than willing to take. Who knew when termination would be put into effect - if it hadn't already come to pass.

Chris also knew Corps was already looking for him. The moment he'd failed to respond to the hail after his meeting he'd become a target. And that meant the rest of his team was at risk as well. This had to be done and done now or it'd never happen at all - none of them would be alive to even attempt it. Chris had bet on them being able to not immediately trip any unwanted attention here at Med, where the techs and doctors milled about, only focused on their own duties and operations. When JD turned around and gave a thumbs up, the sealed door opening to allow them through to yet another level, Chris knew all that was about to change. No one got in here that wasn't authorized - and he'd never held that much rank.

"Shit," JD muttered. His fingers tapped furiously at the sense-comm unit he held against his palm.

Chris didn't even look over. He just kept ever forward, hugging the wall, his weapon trained and ready. "What," he breathed from the corner of his mouth.

"Silent alarm." JD kept pace ahead of Chris and Josiah, following the homing beacon that was leading to Vin. "It's just been tripped."

He grunted but didn't say more. They all knew they'd be found out. The triggered alarm just hastened what had been a given repercussion. "We close," Chris whispered hoarsely.

JD came to a stop in front of one of the doors. Quick hands stowed the sensory equipment, emerging again with different tools at the ready. He nodded at the featureless white door. "There," JD said evenly. He turned his head to stare at Chris. "You hold them off long as you can. I'll get this door open - and make sure we can shut it again behind us once we're in."

Chris nodded with silent agreement. He glanced over at Josiah to find gray-blue eyes, flinty and unwavering, waiting for him. He lifted his chin towards the right corridor branching away from them. Josiah simply nodded back, agreeing to take the left.

Both men lowered to use one bent knee as support for their weapons, reducing the size of their person by half as well. Less to shoot at that way. Sounds approached them now, heavy and ominous and bearing down fast. Boots, men, machinery; all clanking in dull cadence, even in temper and deadly purpose. It relieved him to know they were garnering such a response. It meant Vin was still alive; it meant Vin was truly still in the room behind him. Chris growled deep in his throat and dared them to come.

It didn't take long before he had to make good on that dare.

The next thing Chris knew he was neck-deep in a maelstrom of heavy pulse cannon fire and the wraithing tendrils of chems lifting to lurk noxiously. Chris' arm twitched then went cold, his hand refusing to respond for at least a minute - the aftereffects of a glancing blow from one of precision atom displacement firearms handled by the sniper team.

They were losing ground. Fast.

Chris shuffled backwards. His back jarred against the wall. There was nowhere else to go. "JD!" he yelled on a rising tone.

He wasn't answered but knew his warning had been enough. JD well understood how precariously their lives were balanced at the moment. The young man wouldn't let them down if it was within his power.

The instincts churning in Chris' guts turned them, screaming at him that this was it. They weren't just losing ground anymore. They were seconds from slaughter. It was cut and run time except there was nothing he could afford to cut loose, nowhere they could run.

"JD!" He yelled again.

He narrowed his eyes and kept on firing, noting with satisfaction when a large cluster of the advancing troops were taken out by a sprinkling of sonic grenades thrown from Josiah's side of the door they were defending. Even so it wouldn't be enough and Chris knew it. But he just bore down harder, got that much meaner - anything if it gave JD that vital, extra moment. Everything if it would mean giving his men a chance.

One breath away from fatal, reprieve came.

Strong hands clamped about his shoulders then Chris was bodily hauled into Vin's Medroom. All at once the noises of the battle were muffled to silence, the burning that had filled his senses from all the chems relieved.

Chris didn't bother to glory in the fleeting victory. He spared a long, thorough moment to rake Vin's unresponsive form with a penetrating gaze. He thought about the numbers surrounding their position; thought of Med's securities and procedures. He made a mental tally and nodded. "Get him unhooked. Then we go. You have less than five minutes."

He turned away to face the door and the brunt of the coming onslaught.

Chris was their only defender now, Josiah needed to assist in the delicate work of extricating Vin from all the monitors and support machines that tied the soldier into Med's mainframe. Chris had wished Nathan could have come, but that would have been impossible. There simply wasn't enough time to retrieve Vin and have everyone cleaned and aboard the Renegade before the noose about them tightened in lethal finality. So for now, this was good enough.

"Three minutes," Chris rasped. It was probably less. With each second he anticipated the door to give under the continual battering or the security override would click into place.

The door was punched into again, this time the whole of it straining inwards with a groaning bow, almost giving to the pressure. It wouldn't be long before the hordes of troops in the hall were bursting in here after it.

"Done." Josiah's deep voice cut over the din. It was even and calm as ever.

Chris stood, walking backwards to join them. His brow furrowed in deep wrinkles. Finally he cursed, gritting his teeth so hard he heard the pressure in his ears. "What's the best way out?" he demanded.

"There." JD jerked a thumb over his shoulder, his eyes on his sense-comm.

His eyes narrowed. Mentally he conjured a map of Med, picturing where they came in, retracing their movements and directions to get them to this place. JD was right. The best way out would be behind them - they should be right at a side loading dock, perfect for hijacking transport without getting caught in the crossfire of the soldiers dogging them from inside Med and the reinforcements arriving perforce at the front door.

All they had to do was go right through the damn wall.

Chris reached into his pack, lifting out a contained nuclear charger, setting the blast strength with his thumb as his arm reared back. The explosion would be more than enough to break a passable hole in the wall, the radiation fallout not a concern as it would be safely contained within inert molecular capsules once the bomb combusted.

He nodded and clipped, "Get down."

Chris added destruction of property and senseless vandalism to his growing list of infractions. An evil grin broke across his face then he made his throw. The charger lofted in a clean arc through the air then hit the wall, numerous clinging spikes appearing around its surface to hold it fast to its target.

Chris went to his knees, ducking his head into his chest and cocked a shoulder, closing his eyes as tightly as he could manage.

Seconds later he couldn't hear a thing, his mind buzzing from the abuse, his body near reeling from the proximity and the aftershocks. It took a moment for him to gather his wits, but steely determination not to be beaten and not to lose his men won out over physical discomfort.

When Chris righted he searched for and easily found JD and Josiah. JD was already a backing a step out the gaping hole in the wall, his gun leveled to provide cover fire. Josiah still had Vin held tight - the big man was sprinting through the thick clouding of debris encircling them. Chris lowered his head and darted right after.

As they weaved their way across the landing dock incandescent streamers of light traced all around them. They didn't bother with return fire. They were forced to hunker down against the side of a Med ground transport unit, each man checking their weapons then turning their attention out to await what came next.

Quickly Chris assessed the situation. They would soon be closed in on. Soldiers were already swarming out of Med and he knew the backup units were already in maneuvers to get back here as well. There was no good place to hide. Their only option was to run - and running with the encumbrance of an unconscious Vin was going to slow them further. What they needed was a distraction. More precisely, what JD and Josiah needed was a distraction.

He pursed his lips. "Twenty minutes," Chris ordered. There was no hesitation. He knew it was the right call.

He read defiance in both Josiah and JD's gaze but he didn't give.

"If I'm not to the Renegade in twenty minutes you leave without me. Get it?" His tone was brusque and commanding.

Josiah didn't hesitate longer. "Fine," he answered curtly. Then the bulky form turned on a heel, body held low and close to the landing platform as he ran in retreat.

JD shrugged after a half-second. "No time to argue anyway," he grinned. "Just save us the trouble of insubordination and get your butt back before deadline, eh?" A last quirk of an eyebrow then he was running after Josiah, weapon raised and at the ready in defense of the fleeing trio.

Chris didn't allow his attention to remain on his men. Much as he wanted to ensure himself of their continual safety by observing their progress he knew it'd do none of them any good. He turned back to the hole they'd blown in the side of Med, eyes alert as he tracked the several units intent on preventing their escape. He'd seen it all before, knew exactly their tactics. If he wasn't mistaken, it was a classic flank-prevent-retrieve he'd choreographed himself years ago then had subsequently taught to newly minted officers.

He gritted his teeth and settled in, mind already several paces ahead as he determinedly worked through and discarded options that could get him safely back to the Renegade - and all of them the hell out of here.

*******

The Renegade was cruising silently, taking the long route to nowhere as she and her crew embarked upon a life of furtive vigilance. There would be no going back from what they'd done. No returning to the lives they'd known or the Corps - unless they were being hauled back to be court-martialed. If they were even left alive for that option to be bothered with once found.

The rest of their lives would be spent chasing their own shadows, always on the lookout, always ready for this moment of freedom to be their last. The rest of his days would be spent in wary anticipation and avoidance of a brutal end.

Josiah was relieved.

It felt so damn good to be free of Corps, even better that he'd come with friends - with brothers. There was a giddiness about the crew right now, nervous excitement making them all jumpy and agitated and for the first time in ages feeling alive. It was an alien, invigorating place to be.

Tempering all of that, Josiah's and his friends' elation, was Ezra and Vin. The two were still sealed tight within seemingly impenetrable comas, not sharing in this exquisite, unlawful victory. Not finally being able to share one another.

Josiah shook his head.

He and JD had been quite reluctant to leave Chris at Medical but there had been little choice. He'd seen the truth of Chris' order right away, knew that their survival meant splitting up. It wasn't anything he'd been happy about, but it wasn't like he was a stranger to following directives he hated.

A series of huge explosions had sped their escape, concussing Med's docking bay and the soldiers they were running from. He'd been sorely tempted to turn and check on Chris but had kept his head down, cradling Vin's seemingly lifeless form determinedly to him as JD led the way. He wasn't about to allow a moment's weakness to turn the whole team's efforts to salt.

When they'd reached the outer edge of the landing platform, JD had secured a transport skiff in a most unorthodox - and potentially deadly - manner. A single cut to his wrist, deft and deep, then JD's blood had sprayed free to stain the hull of the small craft. He'd raised his arm and twisted his hand, directing the strong spurts. In an instant the skiff had been unanchored from the docking clamps, released automatically when Medsensors had detected the biohazard.

JD had jumped atop the ship, hands furiously working over the electronic locks as the craft spiraled down and down towards the fathomless drop into the center of Base. Josiah had done his best to do the impossible, cowering out of sight on the wide, empty expanse of the landing platform. He'd waited with forced patience as he watched JD finally gain access to the ship and scramble inside, a surge of proud triumph emboldening him to jump off the platform as well. The pursuing soldiers closing in and the shot that had burned through his shoulder left him little choice to do otherwise.

He and Vin hadn't fallen far. JD had maneuvered the skiff to hover at an extreme angle, entry door opened wide to face their descent. Josiah had tucked his chin in and closed his eyes. The bone crushing landing against the window on the opposite side of the ship hadn't been his finest hour, but they'd made it.

As soon as they were in JD hadn't wasted any time. The skiff had spun through the air with a dizzying lurch, Josiah and Vin knocking about in the small confines as JD piloted. Then they'd sped forward - straight down - into the abyss of the forgotten, the underbelly that seethed beneath Corps' pristine façade.

When they'd arrived at the rendezvous site the Renegade was powered up to full, looking barely reined where she sat, ready to go. Nathan had made quick work of removing Vin's internal ID sensor net, then they'd all washed themselves clean and had come aboard. The skiff had been programmed to fly into a wall of refuse, carrying with it a pack of explosives, the small ship and the last trace of their existence disintegrating in a white-hot blaze.

Josiah had been about to protest their leaving, to demand Buck wait another ten minutes when Chris had loomed over him, a single brow arched, hazels gleaming. He had carefully shut his mouth and said a steady, 'well then, let's go.' He had no idea how Chris had made it back. During their hastened reunion there'd been no time to ask and he hadn't thought to since. Maybe one day he would. For now he was just thankful they'd all made it - onboard the Renegade and, so far, safely away from Corps.

Vin, JD and he had all been taken to medical to be patched up. Nathan had muttered darkly the whole time he'd worked, first sealing up the self-inflicted cut in JD's arm then seeing to Josiah's energy pulse wound and his finely fractured bones. All the while the Renegade had dipped and weaved, careening through Base and eventually open space, Chris and Buck leading the charge, piloting their old ship and her new crew hurtling towards death or freedom.

In the end, the music of chance had delivered them.

Josiah made his way down the narrow corridor to the cabin where Ezra and Vin were resting. He paused for a moment. Resting. It sounded so innocuous, so much like they'd soon be waking up to join the others. He hoped that would prove to be true.

The door slid away to allow his entrance. It was quiet and still in the room, the humming of the ship and its functions the only sounds inhabiting the small chamber. Josiah stood and allowed his eyes adjust to the dim interior.

Ezra and Vin were each in a bunk, the narrow beds secured to opposite walls of the cabin. Both were face up, eyes closed, bodies lax and immobile. The only thing distinguishing them from corpses was their steady, slow breathing.

Nathan had given them an intensive checkup, his final prognosis that neither should have sustained permanent damage. He'd found a powerful dampening field generator implanted with Vin, surmised this was what caused them to lose contact with one another. It was as strong a device as he'd ever seen. After that had been removed it had been Nathan's expectancy that both men would recover, their minds remembering the connection, seeking it out to have again. It would be then they'd heal each other.

No one had a clue how long that would take. Or if it would even happen as so hopefully theorized.

Josiah let out a sigh then settled himself between them on the floor. He crossed his legs and straightened his spine, then he closed his eyes. He took in long draughts of air, holding each breath in his lungs until they ached then he'd let it release again. After a time the pattern held steady without his conscious directing. In and out, steady and slow, his biorhythms slowing as his mind distilled on a single thought. Then he did something he hadn't bothered or dared trying in an age.

Josiah prayed.

He didn't have a specific benefactor in mind. More he thought on Ezra and Vin, thought of them being whole and functioning once more, thought of them being finally together.

A long time later he opened his eyes, the feeling of completion enfolding him. Josiah nodded. He reached out to each bunk and took their hands, Ezra's cupped in his right, Vin's held in his left. Josiah bridged the small distance between the two cots, moving with slow intent to bring them together. When they finally touched he remained perfectly still for a long moment, then he closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

It wasn't as if he'd expected a miracle. He wasn't looking for a literal spark that would jolt both men into sudden and completely healed awakeness. But he couldn't deny he'd been hoping for something.

A twitch of their features, perhaps. Maybe one finger or two responding to the contact. Hell, a change in breath would have been nice.

In the back of his mind an image sprang dancing into his awareness. A painting that had once lived on Earth, so long ago now scholars argued whether a culture so primitive as the one it was supposedly created within could have truly conjured it. It had graced the ceiling of a chapel, vibrant colors melding with plaster to form a then believed immemorial skin, the whole a decadent mastery of artistic splendor. Josiah's lips bent in a humorless smile. Not that any such things as all that were allowed to exist any longer.

One image from the entire frescoed work had captured his imagination when he'd seen the virtual files. That time was ages ago now, long before Corps and their regs had trundled mercilessly into being, but long after the Sistine and her proud finery had crumbled to nothing. Near the center of the meticulously composed chaos that swirled on the ceiling was a moment represented - when Adam had been touched by "God." Only by a finger, but that slight brushing had been deemed more than adequate for the ancient deity to impart the sweet gift of life. A mere whispering of contact and Adam had been rendered whole.

It was a picture that had resonated within Josiah when he'd first gazed upon the holographic recreation. It was one that he carried with him still.

He looked at the two hands, clasped loosely because he'd joined them that way, and he realized something. Josiah shook his head slowly - a miracle was exactly what he'd hoped for.

*******

Suddenly, Vin remembered.

He remembered to breathe. He remembered that he was alive.

He remembered that he was a part of a team. That he had friends and purpose.

He remembered green eyes and Ezra and love.

He remembered with particular, searing clarity he'd been about to know his first taste of a kiss.

A kiss he had wanted so very desperately.

Vin felt like he was surfacing from the tenacious grip of the gravity and atmosphere that clung to Ratzsat Een, a planet with twenty times the gravitational pull of earth.

Everything was disjointed. Everything, he discovered with rising panic, was empty.

He remembered more.

The blind terror when Ezra had disappeared from him, entire, in less than a nanosecond. The anguished cry that had ripped from his lips, unintended, one he knew Ezra wouldn't hear. The feeling that he was broken, utterly, beyond the grasp of repair.

Vin felt that terror rise in him again. It seemed he was returning from wherever - but that Ezra was still gone. He would have sworn they'd touched, that something had connected them, however brief, however shallow. Maybe that too was gone.

He wanted more than anything to collapse back down into the black comfort of the void he'd just escaped. Vin had always prided himself on being a man who wouldn't run from a fight, but this was far outside his comprehension of survival. If Ezra wasn't here he had no desire to stay.

And yet he persevered. Too stubborn not to; too damn consumed with needing Ezra not to try.

Then he remembered something else. To open his eyes.

When he did he squinted against the dim light casting strange shadows about the unfamiliar room he was in. Vin was lying on a bunk in a place he'd never seen before. His eyes narrowed as in took in details; he tried to discern where exactly he'd ended up.

Over the relatively featureless wall and across a low ceiling then back down an equally featureless wall his eyes wandered. It was all blue-black, metallic in appearance but not shiny. He craned his neck to look behind him. One of his brows perked to an arch. At least there was a front door.

When he eased back down his head rolled. Then the most amazing thing Vin had ever seen managed to penetrate his almost debilitating reaction to it.

"Ezra..."

The name he uttered was barely a sound. It seemed almost foreign actually spoken aloud, but it felt good at the same time. Better than good. Better than anything.

For a long time he gazed, enraptured and without words. He wanted to touch but was afraid. He wanted to stare forever but knew staring could never be enough. Actually seeing Ezra was more than he'd ever been able to truly imagine, and yet, being here next to him, Vin couldn't help but think that it was about damn time and he'd always known it would happen. He smiled softly, heart turning over in his chest. He wondered where the hell they were, how they'd gotten here. He had no doubt Larabee and the rest had a hand in it and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to repay the debt owed after such a favor.

Vin was selfish enough to acknowledge he wasn't sure he cared.

He marveled over Ezra. The man was exactly as he'd seen in his mind's eye. The man was perfect.

Well, almost perfect. Much better awake and his again.

Vin set about making that happen.

His first attempts at reconnection he recoiled from, finding places that were cold, alone. But he forced back his dread, made himself employ the tricks Ezra had taught him through the years about using his rudimentary psy abilities.

Then, a breathless, euphoric glimpse of everything that was his world. He stayed fast, the urgent need to pounce almost more than he could withstand, but he didn't want to lose this tenuous thread, sensed that Ezra would close this last avenue in if he acted too hastily.

So Vin sent out hums and vibrations. Small at first, then growing in strength and purpose.

Hello... Ezra... Open... Ezra... Open for me...Ezra... Please...

It seemed as though hours passed. Vin really had no idea. His only awareness was concentrating on Ezra, on coaxing his love to return to him. When he finally got an answer the feelings echoed to him were veiled, suspicious, filled with hurt caution.

Vin didn't acknowledge his disappointment. Instead he smiled, holding steady, beckoning. Then he broke the tide.

Ontalmarga

It was a nonsense word. It meant nothing, not even in any alien language - at least not so far as he and Ezra knew. But it did serve a definite purpose between them. It was their secret code, a word no one else could know to say. Proof that when they came calling, seeking sanctuary within one another's minds and spirits they were who they claimed to be.

The reaction was phenomenal.

Vin nearly drowned. He would happily have succumbed.

Elated wonderment, desire and delight, continual welcomes and relief and fierce protectiveness danced through him. He was grabbed tight, their minds uniting - endless, seamless, without question.

Eventually the passionate consummation of their At last... you are alive... subsided, gentling until it was a calming, omnipresent bastion of all they'd known and feared lost.

Vin chuckled. Missed me, did ya?

His answer was flashing green eyes, impatient, impertinent. Then that breathless moment when they'd been lost overcame him, stronger this time, swamping him with a heady need. Vin's eyes drooped closed, heavy in anticipation of their kiss.

Wait, he burst out.

He felt Ezra growl, felt the aggravation and the start of so many questions.

Vin just smiled, then he opened his eyes. Aloud he said, "Just a sec, I swear."

Ezra started at hearing his words. He watched fingers test into the air, watched green eyes open experimentally. Vin came forward from his lean against the wall, boosting onto his palms so his legs could uncurl. His soles planted against the cool surface of the floor and he knelt next to Ezra's bunk.

They stared at one another, completely lost. But this time it was an abandonment both easily, eagerly submitted to.

Tentative fingers reached out, disbelieving yet determined. Their hands brushed against one another. Vin pulled in a sharp breath, his whole body shuddering in reaction to the feel of Ezra, so glorious and warm and full of texture and solidity.

Their fingers caught and entwined. Ezra was shifting, rolling onto his side, scooting towards the wall. Vin grinned, following the lead.

He climbed into the bunk with Ezra, settling himself a mere inch from the actual living person of his love. Heat radiated to fill him, intoxicating and delicious. Then incredibly, it got better.

They moved as one, negating the distance between them, the wonderment and uncertainty forgotten, in their place a surfeit of desire and need.

Vin allowed his eyes to close. His hands spread and explored, one locking at the small of Ezra's back to pinion their bodies, his groin rounding with instinctive undulations until it rested, alive and hard against its answering equal. The other hand tripped the line of Ezra's jaw then bumped over an ear until at last it cupped the smooth, shorn head.

Ezra breathed and Vin breathed. Hands held him just as tightly as he held. Their legs were a tangle. Their hearts beat against one another, echoing a sure thrum.

Then, at last, they kissed.

*******

JD shifted in his seat, his butt wiggling from side to side. He giggled without intending to. His let his eyes close as his head fell back against the chair, smiling softly. "Hunh. Never knew Ez was ticklish there," he murmured through another chuckle.

"I'm betting Ezra didn't know he was ticklish there." Nathan's voice was mix of amusement and mild annoyance.

Across from them Buck groaned miserably.

"Don't they know what they're doing to me here?" Buck let out a long-suffering sigh. "Do they even care?" he nearly whined.

A heated sensation shot across JD that had nothing to do with playful ticklishness.

Josiah's rumbling laughter filled the ship's small comm. "It would seem likely they do not." The deep voice was happily unconcerned.

Another flare and JD's eyes popped back open. It was getting just a mite past a low murmur at this point.

Buck oofed, his face taking on a pained expression as he hunkered over in his seat.

Overall JD didn't mind the few strays that found their way to him when Ezra and Vin's attention was somewhere other than keeping their thoughts and feelings their own, but this was nearing too personal, too much information.

Chris huffed and stood up. He strode the length of the hall to the quarters - a relatively short distance considering the compact nature of the Renegade's design - and stopped in front of Ezra and Vin's cabin, echoing footsteps sounding back to the expectant crew. He knocked once, the sound abrupt and sharp.

All at once the steady flow of softly amorous sensations swirling around and through JD evaporated.

"Dammit," Chris barked. "Keep it down. And I mean..." He growled when a very pointed, very inappropriate image flashed in everyone's mind of just what wasn't down at the moment.

JD's lips twisted and he bit his cheek to keep from laughing too hard. Josiah and Nathan were openly chuckling. Buck just groaned again.

Chris' nostrils flared and he threw a hand towards the door. "Just keep it to yourselves." He shook his head, muttering as he made his way back to the main bridge.

A light, laughing apology drifted through the ship. JD smiled and nodded, easily accepting the somewhat forced contrition. But despite the humorous protestation he'd heard lacing the apology, all 'noise' from Ezra and Vin ceased and JD knew it wouldn't come back. At least not today.

When everyone seemed settled again JD cleared his throat. "So... where are we going?" They'd been speeding their way out of Corps occupied space for over a week now, but those parsecs were nearly behind them. JD was curious what came next.

Chris shrugged. "Dunno. Hadn't really thought about anything past getting us all out of there." He raised a brow. "Any suggestions?"

The room fell silent again. Finally JD managed a relatively level, "Always wanted to poke around Four Corners."

Buck's eyes opened fully at that. He had been sprawled out in his chair, heels crossed in a low spread against the floor, chin tucked against his chest. He shook his head with a laugh. "Boy, I told you not to read that shit. And not just 'cause Corps said you couldn't."

JD was undeterred. So what if all that he knew of Four Corners came from the exciting, smuggled adventuras he'd picked up from the black market over the years. Adventuras were small, implantable chips that brought a fictional story to vivid life within your mind's eye, like watching a movie inside your head. JD loved them, found himself particularly enamored of the ones that detailed exploits from the frontier regions of space.

It might sound boyishly foolish on the surface, but he knew it was a good idea. People could blend in out there - people could hide in plain sight. He took the information gleaned from the adventuras with a grain of salt, sure, but it was clear that the world out there on the far, raggedy reaches of the universe didn't ask many questions of a man. And that's exactly what they were going to need to survive.

Buck laughed again but his blue eyes were genuine. "Maybe not so bad an idea as all that," he conceded.

"Not bad at all," Chris agreed. He jerked his chin towards the navigation console. "Why don't you find us some coordinates, plot us a course and get us going."

JD made himself count to ten before jumping out of his seat. Josiah grinned at him as he rushed by.

"Just make sure wherever we end up there are ladies... or that we pass by some, stop along the way... god, something," Buck wheezed with a groan. "It's been way too damn long for me." He shook his head ruefully. "I ain't even saying how long."

JD rolled his eyes. Now he was intent on finding a suitable - and relatively safe, under the Corps radar - way to get to the area of space frontier known as Four Corners. From behind him he heard movement. He looked back over his shoulder. Chris was stretching into a stand.

"Who said getting that means we gotta stop?" The blond waggled a brow at Buck and grinned, the gesture slow and sly and very knowing.

With that he turned away from the group, pacing with measured steps towards his quarters.

A full minute passed and they all sat, watching and waiting. The low hiss announcing Chris' door had opened and closed sounded. Another minute ticked by.

Buck shot to his feet and was gone without another word. JD wasn't sure he'd ever seen the man move that fast - rather, that fast with so little coordination. His mouth hung open, a half-word escaping him as a sighed 'a-ehhh...'

His stammering didn't survive a minute.

JD recovered soon enough, ducking his head with a quick shake before looking back up again, brows raised. He grinned at Josiah and Nathan, face alive with warm, affectionate tolerance. They both just returned his grin, eyes dancing with the same.

He turned back to the computer and began entering in coordinates, taking the Renegade and her crew far away from here and onto a new - and hopefully better - life.

End