Vine '04: And So It Goes

Ezra moved cautiously, shifting first left then sliding right. He didn't get very far before arms restraining him tight reasserted.

Ezra stilled.

Externally all was quiet. Or at least as quiet as things got in this neighborhood. Soft sounds of ambient music and televisions, traffic and rain met his ears, the total if it muted and blurred by the consistent waft of warm breath in his ear.

Internally Ezra was a mess. He'd already used up every curse word he'd ever learned, foreign and otherwise. After those had been exhausted he'd started making them up.

Just what in hell was he doing?

Already he'd gauged so many things. The distance from this bed to the door; how long it would take for him to gather his scattered clothes and dress as he bolted for it; how deep a hold sleep had on his companion; whether or not he could truly escape.

That was the real problem.

It wasn't that he couldn't break away and get out before any of this madness went further.

It was that he had no desire to.

Ezra pressed back into the warm flesh meeting his every curve, clenching his eyes tightly closed, willing the jackhammer of his insistent thoughts to abate. He wanted more of this, wanted to believe what the dark sanctity of this small apartment allowed them in this here and now.

He'd deal with the consequences in the morning.

It was more than he could bear; it was all he had left.

Ezra sighed, a light shuttling of breath that he let catch in his throat. Too much more of this physical anxiety and the man holding him close would be on to him, would want to know why. Blue eyes would demand with fierce concern, shadowed with questions and apprehensions that Ezra tasted regret. Then that low drawl would ask of him, seeking confirmation of what the clues were offering up as apparent truth. And as always, Ezra would find himself unable to deny.

But come morning the permissive, uncomplicated bubble that now so delicately cradled them would break, giving way to the pressure of reality and the sun's hard glare. Ezra was holding onto the desperate hope that when dawn interrupted he'd be able to lie one more time.

He groaned internally. He more than hoped it. He had to.

Long minutes slipped by while Ezra drifted. His mind was reeling much too fast to allow sleep again, but he wasn't interested in being anywhere else even as this perfect opportunity to get away unfolded before him. Unconsciously his fingers moved, lightly tracing the corded muscles of arms banded around him, following the long line of torso sealed to his, idling to twirl at the jutted hip. A trace of a murmur almost obscured by rustling sheets had his hand freezing in place. He waited, breathless, then once again his lover was settled in sleep.

Ezra lowered his hand by increments until it blanketed the warm skin, allowing it to cup back towards the shapely ass, thumb hooked against the thigh.

He melted back into the sure hold coveting him until eventually mental exhaustion and physical want overcame him, then Ezra fell into an uneasy sleep.

Icy tendrils of light were starting to spear into the dim room when his eyes opened again. The world around them was still mostly quiet but was showing signs of waking up. But it wasn't the persistent screech of the garbage truck as it backed into alleys that had disturbed him, nor the light commotion of the family that lived upstairs getting ready for work and school.

It was something else, a warning that sounded from inside out, his hackles tickling in response. Ezra fought off the last haze from sleep and listened with trained intensity.

A light scrape at the threshold - the shuffling of weight just outside the apartment door.

Stairs being treaded by not one but many, footsteps dull but ringing in his ears.

Then came a breathless pause as if all the people making those noises had vanished, but Ezra knew better.

When solid pounding began on the door he was already coiled and ready, eyes having calculated the distance to his jeans, his weapon.

He was zippering his fly when a rough voice shouted.

"Tanner! We know you're in there!"

Ezra didn't even pause. He knelt onto a knee as efficient hands worked over his Beretta, checking it for readiness, slipping it to rest at the small of his back, tucked into his waistband. Next he found his wallet and thumbed through it to reach the small and folded hidden pocket.

"This is the police! One way or another we're coming in! So c'mere and open it or we're breaking it down!"

Rasped cursing broke the tension within the small apartment, the narrow mattress creaking under movement. Ezra knew blue eyes were rested on him, protective, regretful, speculative. He resolutely ignored the stare that caressed between his shoulder blades.

From above something was dropped. Ezra had no idea what, but it was heavy and sharp, the sound of it echoing through the room. It was all the keyed up SWAT team outside needed.

Staccatoed gunfire roared to life and Ezra dove for cover. He watched from the floor as several small holes broke through the wall, each turning into a small halo of sunlight, tiny beams formed in the dust now clouding the room.

The depilated armchair he was tucked behind gained another tear in its faded chenille. Ezra didn't dwell on how uncomfortably close it had come to tearing into him.

Shit… what fuckin' Mickey Mouse had eaten a double dose of his Wheaties this fine morning?

In seconds the firing stopped. Ezra could just imagine the angered, harsh whispered commands from whoever was in charge, the litany of 'stand down' and several 'fucks' tunneling over the radios that kept them all connected.

He hunkered lower when another sprayed round tore through the apartment. They'd barely moved, the impetus for the SWAT team to send another hailstorm the small table that had been ripped in half. It had groaned its last, falling off legs splintered to useless shards, jerking the attention of the already ratcheted itchy triggers out in that hallway.

This time he actually heard the angered yelling to fucking cease fire.

Ezra counted off twenty in the deafening silence then stood smoothly, face impassive, mind throwing up every block and shield he could think of to prevent a gut reaction. Three tiptoed steps and he was at the door. He was barefoot and hated it. Barefoot was never any good and as stupid a thing to focus on now he couldn't help but think it; hopefully it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

His soundless slither to the door hadn't drawn any attention, a rare reprieve. Ezra steeled himself for a moment, working to dampen his rapid pulse, pace his breathing.

He didn't dare risk glancing over at Vin.

What he was about to do he'd catch all manner of hell for, that was certain.

But it was all too far gone for him to give a good goddamn -- that, and he cared far too much to let it go any further.

Ezra sucked in a long breath then shouted, "Federal Agent! Hold your fire! I have a badge and a weapon and I'm coming out with both!"

Heart hammering in his ears Ezra closed his hand around the deadbolt. He pushed his weight into the thin wood panel and the lock snicked. With patient care he wasn't particularly feeling he opened the door, making sure to reveal only empty space as it swung wide away from him, his body tucked against the wall. He wasn't in any mood to get plugged by an antsy member of the local PD.

A moment of silence then an impatient voice barked. "All right, federal agent, we're holding fire. Where the hell are you?"

Ezra didn't answer despite the several charming comebacks that came to mind. He moved steadily but slowly, allowing his left hand to break into view, the rest of his body following as he revealed himself. Green eyes searched for and found the officer in charge. He spanned his fingers, holding his palms out towards the SWAT team.

"My badge is in my pocket. I'm going to get it now." His voice was cautious but confident.

As he moved his skin itched, twitches that suddenly begged for attention skittering from his scalp, over his nose then behind his knees. His neck ached and his head hurt. To say this process was unnerving, under the thumb of several armed men with weapons trained unwaveringly at his person, would be an understatement at best. His hand threatened to vibrate in the slightest of tremors but Ezra fought it.

Worst of all was his urgent need to dash back inside, explain to and beg of Vin…

Using only his thumb and forefinger Ezra dislodged his identification. He plucked it from his pocket in a smooth motion then held it away from himself at arm's length. It was snatched from his grasp, the team leader's narrowed gaze pinning him in place before the man stepped back again.

Ezra waited out the ensuing silence as his FBI credentials were thoroughly examined.

"Turn around, Special Agent Standish. And make it as nice and slow as you've been going. Got me?"

The 'special' was lazed at him indolently, the commands brusque and no nonsense. Ezra wanted to snap and demand why he should have to do this but he merely nodded with easy capitulation instead. Acquiescing was most definitely the best course of action.

As he turned Ezra spoke, voice still even and tolerant. "As I said I have my weapon with me. It's at the small of my back in my waistband."

The team leader's gruff voice charged over him.

"That's what we're taking care of right now, Special Agent."

Ezra bit back a sigh. SWAT macho assholes… it didn't help at all that he was a fibbie here poaching on their turf, messing up the bravado of their bust. He'd let them have their fun, jump through their hoops. It was small price to pay for achieving his eventual ends.

"Hands at your head, lace 'em at your neck. I'm sure you know the drill."

He did as was ordered, teeth biting with merciless efficiency on a tongue that badly wanted to lacerate the meathead putting him through this.

As Ezra raised his arms his eyes moved of their own volition, flitting back into the apartment, resting on Vin.

Blue eyes clashed with his green, full of anger and betrayal and impossible yet undeniable fear - fear for him. Remnants of their one night of passion sparked and extinguished in waves that wouldn't be controlled.

Ezra shook his head miserably. There was no good answer, no cure or absolution for his actions.

Vin made to step forward and Ezra couldn't prevent himself from reacting.

His left hand came away from his head, pushing into the air in front of him in a staying gesture.

The next thing he knew there was too much saliva for him to keep up with swimming in his mouth, hot and thin and tasting terrible, his stomach lurching with queasy heat as his shoulder burned even while it numbed.

He blinked down at himself, watching with detached examination as blood coursed down his naked chest. Really it wasn't so bad, having gone through the shoulder and no lower…

Ezra wavered then buckled, body crumpling.

The last things he was aware of was the team leader squawking a tirade at the sniper, Vin's beloved drawl screaming for him.

Then he pitched square into the doorjamb, head bouncing off it in an awkward movement.

An unconscious Ezra landed face first on the floor, oblivious to the chaos that erupted around him.

*******

Ezra fought past the heaviness, pushing upwards in an attempt to surface.

His head pounded dully, an ache that went deeper than painkillers could reach. The rest of his body was detached, floating somewhere beyond his awareness. Even though Ezra hated that condition of being, he was glad for it. If his headache was anything to go by he didn't want to feel anything else just yet.

One blink then two. They were rapid and ineffectual, bringing nothing to him save for intrusive light. Several more attempts and he managed to keep his right lid aloft long enough to survey. Cream beige walls. Cream beige floor. Cream beige curtains… in his right arm an IV. His left curled onto his torso, the ends of his fingers slightly discolored.

Ah, a hospital. How lovely.

Ezra groaned, then thankfully let his eye droop closed. He was putting his brain through the work of telling him how he'd gotten here when soft words penetrated.

"Mr. Standish?"

He tried to formulate an answer but his voice came out guttural, useless.

Apparently that wasn't a problem. The quiet and cheery tone sounded on.

"Oh good. We were hoping you'd wake up soon. Been checking on you regularly for a few hours now."

Sounds of activity rustled around him, papers shuffling then metal clattering when his chart was replaced, the casters on his IV grinding when it was wheeled to a more precise position, the scrubs the nurse wore starching efficiently. The burbling monologue continued.

"You've been through surgery and you did very well. Nothing all that serious, a bit of a hole in you that needed patching."

A steady hand patted his arm.

"That's all done now and we've just been waiting for you to come around from the local. You'll be here overnight for observation of course…"

Ezra murmured. He'd tried to ask far too many questions at once and it came out as something close to, "Whaathuuuppnedmeehre."

He huffed with exasperation but Nurse answered him anyway.

"Hmm, yes, I expect you are thirsty."

A straw poked at his lips and they parted instinctively. Ezra sucked at the cool liquid, suddenly unable to get enough of the water; his whole body felt parched. When he paused for a breath it was whisked away again. He felt too apathetic to protest the loss.

"I'll go tell the Doctor you're back with us. You just rest up now Mr Standish."

Ezra was on the verge of remembering so much he needed to know, but Nurse was too fast for him. By the time he'd worked his eyes back open, the first question ready on his tongue, she was long gone.

He muttered darkly, his eyes sinking closed. With a sigh he resigned himself to waiting, intent on grilling the doctor now likely making way to his room, patiently cataloguing his thoughts so they'd be in order for his interrogation to begin. But in his one moment of lost vigilance he allowed a stray thought of Vin, and Morpheus once again stole him in a blackened embrace.

*******

"Goddammit! Don't think this cowboy bullshit operation stunt you all just pulled won't get all of your goddamn asses fired! I'll see to it personally if I goddamn have to!"

Ezra turned away to gaze out the window, tuning out his boss' colorful and somewhat creatively lacking diatribe.

It'd been four days since he'd been held by Vin.

His breath snapped impatiently and Ezra let his eyes close. Four wretched days since Vin and, oh yes, the ruin of his career.

The idea that not having Vin cut with the pain of loss far more keenly than anything else tangled in this whole mess tickled Ezra's dark fancy and he chuckled sardonically, soundless though it was.

His eyes flitted to the front of the room. Hastings' face was still puffed out and that strange purply-red, mouth moving rapidly. Ezra looked away again, reassured it'd be some time before his superior ran out of steam.

Right now he was observing the fine art of the pissing contest. What turf was whose, what jurisdiction belonged to whom, who got the eventual apprehension gone right and who got blamed for the bust gone bad. As usual, when all were whipped out and compared, the Feds were leading the pack. It was starting to show in their growing swagger, the angry and defiant posturing of the locals as they sensed impending doom. If Ezra were calling odds he'd put sure money on his side emerging victorious.

Didn't hurt that the locals had royally screwed the pooch on this one.

Ezra shook his head and grimaced. He really hated that turn of phrase, and yet, it just seemed so damn right in these circumstances. His movements made his head swim just enough to throw him. Ezra was starting to regret not having taken the pain pill. But he'd wanted to be sharp when his eventual eleventh hour sounded - wanted to be fully aware when he was asked to turn in his badge or was given some trumped up speech about reassessing his values and commitments before being sent off on a long "vacation."

His shoulder would be fine. It was fine already, just sore. A bullet punching though flesh tended to have that effect. The doctors had been far more worried about the large blue knot on his forehead. They'd concluded that the shot had been the final weakening blow to cause his collapse, his body already running so perilously close to exhaustion. Seemingly endless days without enough sleep and far too little to eat coupled with his mental frenzy had been a line too thin to withstand the added weight of sudden shock and blood loss.

So he'd taken the hit then taken a header into the doorframe and had lost four days. He'd also lost six months of undercover work and was looking the short life of the rest of his career square in the eye. The bureau had nearly lost years worth of time and investment, all of them coming away from this with next to nothing.

The most difficult to endure - the one that would never find balance or closure - was Ezra's loss of Vin as well.

Ezra flexed his shoulder and arm experimentally, watching the Dallas traffic out the conference room window as it surged and paused then surged and paused again. A miniature white truck had him remembering and his vision blurred. With a swift mental chastisement he swept the useless yearning memory away.

Now that it was all over he felt exceedingly calm. Too calm, really, truth be told, that kind of passive tolerance that settles over you when you've stopped willing yourself to be able to withstand what comes and have simply surrendered to it.

Coiled silence brought his focus back into the room, eyes searching for what had brought about the sudden change in atmosphere.

Hastings was looking smugly satisfied, the SWAT team leader hunched in his chair, the Police Chief's eyes narrow in decisive displeasure.

"That's right. A witness. Something you boys can lay no claim to at all. Only goddamn thing you can rightfully claim is nearly getting one of my men killed while nearly ruining this whole goddamn operation." Hastings crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Another taut stretch of silence then Hastings smiled.

"So, what'll it be, boys? Suck up and help us close this one out, we all get plenty of dirtbags in the pen and everybody wins, or are you gonna just keep goddamn sulking?"

The man didn't even wait for an answer. Instead he pushed up to standing, both hands planted firm on the conference tabletop. He just kept grinning.

"Good! That's what I goddamn like! Now, Agent Myers here will stay in step with you boys, help get the ball rolling again."

Almost as one entity the group nodded then stood, suddenly of one mind about the case and ready to plow ahead again. Ezra suffered the indignity when, now that the territory had been laid out and what hierarchy would be ruling it, each of the officers offered him his hand to shake as if they were all politicians sealing up the Magna Carta.

But he played nice, laughed hollowly when 'no hard feelings, eh?' was bandied about, nodded continuously like some idiot sycophant as shoulders were clapped and gung ho hup-tos were affirmed. He was relieved when the last of them had trickled out; relieved in that one ordeal was now over while another was about to begin.

Hastings settled back into a chair, smiling at Ezra, watery gray eyes hard. "How are you feeling, Standish? Glad you felt well enough to get to this meeting."

Ezra didn't really answer, just nodded again.

"Yeah, Standish, how's it feel to be, ahm, out?"

Ezra hid a murderous scowl behind his blandly schooled expression. Agent Lindsey was wearing a smirking grin, full of bad teeth and worse humor.

It was down to only a few of them in the conference room now. Agent Lindsey, the man in charge of the cleanup crew that'd descended to take charge now that the operation had gone visible. Agents Tate and McGee snickered into their palms, one representing the Dallas branch, the other a midlevel minion out of Quantico. And of course Hastings, in charge and out ranking them all - until someone from D.C. rattled themselves loose to swoop in and take over.

Hastings growled lightly, casting an unamused expression about the room. "That's goddamn enough, ladies. Thank you."

That was all the man said, but it was effective. No one's eyes stopped dancing with mocking humor and no one offered up an apology, but the three men did all nod and stand, taking their leave. Lindsey was the last to go, gruesomely dragging his finger across his throat with sagging eyes and mouth just before ducking out the door, then his face leered with a brightened, aggressive grin.

The door clicked shut and oppressive quiet reined. Ezra couldn't even bring himself to sigh and break it. He patiently sat out the silence, sure that Hastings would cave.

It didn't take long.

"Goddammit, Standish. What were you thinking?"

Ezra stared at his boss with a mild expression, looking for all the world like he was trying to compose an agreeable justification.

He already knew. That answer came readily enough. What had he been thinking? Hmm… let's see… Long, long legs… long, long hair… long, long blue gaze that saw through him to eternity… warm humor and a warmer smile sluicing heat through him without even a caress… the whole of it wrapped in sleek bronzed skin…

"I was thinking as I always do, Sir. Getting the job done." Ezra folded his hands together on the tabletop. His head tilted slightly, a feint of uncomplicated obedience and readiness for whatever came now.

Hastings chewed at his cheek. "I should say I appreciate your, er, dedication, but what you did goes beyond being risky or a little edgy. Hell, it's way far gone from even your usual! It's a goddamn breach of conduct and goes against just about every goddamn rule and you know it!" His eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure this is one that I can insist is ignored."

Ezra blinked a few times. He resisted smiling coldly. Kept in the sharp retorts. He wasn't in the least surprised.

He knew too well what this meeting would have entailed had he been found to have bedded his long legged, long haired female Texas mark. Sidelong glances and water cooler ribbings, 'anything for the job, eh Standish?' - 'always willing to go that extra mile, ain't ya?' - all circled round with knowing, lascivious chuckles and intimated congratulations.

He'd have caught some trouble. Ridden a desk for a few months, maybe. Only because sleeping with who you were working to infiltrate truly was a gross breach of conduct. The reprimands would have been given to him with a glad hand, however, and the stigma wouldn't have remained. It was likely if there'd been a female counterpart to rival the looks of Vin that had been Ezra's indiscretion, his envied maverick status would only have increased.

But Ezra hadn't boned some fair maiden lovely.

And this he wasn't going to be allowed to get away with.

Ezra didn't have much more time and he knew it. So before he let Hastings seal him off completely he decided to ask a few questions. "You spoke of a witness in your briefing?" He smiled easily, the gesture small and nowhere near his eyes. He had a sick certainty about who the witness was, but he wanted to know for sure. Wanted to know how it had happened too, if he could manage it.

Hastings' brow furrowed, the skin ridging into thick folds. He sighed deeply and shook his head. "Standish, I can't tell you a goddamn thing and you know it."

They stared at each other. The smile dropped completely from Ezra's face, and Hastings cast back just as hard.

Ezra shrugged. "What would be the harm? I think we both realize I'm finished anyway. This at least I deserve to know after six months of my life went towards achieving it." Green eyes were vicious.

"Now wait a goddamn minute. No one said anything about finished!" Hastings reared up, chest puffing wide when he sucked in a long breath to launch into more.

Ezra cut his hand through the air, palm parallel to the table. "Spare me the histrionics and your stern yet condescendingly understanding lecture. I don't need a good talking to about priorities and regulations and losing sight of my duties. I also don't desire to be given some damned allowance that if I straighten up and fly right from here on out I might have a chance at survival."

He'd purposefully thrown in the barbed allusion to the discovery of his sideways tendencies. Hastings' face clouded ruddy and Ezra couldn't resist when his lip nipped up to reveal his premolar in more a sneer than a smile. He watched Hastings' nostrils flare and mentally Ezra stepped back a pace. He might not care anymore to try and salvage the tatters of his career, but there was no reason to become nastily unhinged or out of control.

He took in a short breath and smiled, starting again. "I should say I appreciate your, ah, willingness to see me merely reproved and rehabilitated." The cold smile was back. "But I'm not looking for an extended leave where I get myself back together. I have no interest in yammering at an Agency psychologist and starting again from whatever status is deemed necessary for me to be demoted down into." His fingers flicked off the table. "I also have no desire to fight for a job I've come to care virtually nothing for when it means putting up with the same juvenile crap that Lindsey so easily got away with this afternoon on a daily basis."

Hastings mouth opened then closed. He grimaced but didn't have enough grace to look chagrined. They both knew it was true and Hastings wasn't enough of a shyster to pretend otherwise.

Ezra looked to the side and murmured, "I do not believe I'd even struggle to keep my pension, were it decided my termination should be meted with such finality."

It was an aside more to himself but he didn't care that Hastings heard it.

After a moment he swiveled back to face his boss, green eyes blazing. "What I do want is to know what I've asked. Regs have never bothered you this much before - you've only ever been a stickler when it suits you. I've always respected you and you know it. I've always come through for you and your record is stellar thanks to my efforts and accomplishments. I believe it a more than equitable quid pro quo for you to just tell me what I want to know. Goddammit."

Hastings' brows shot up. Then, surprisingly, the man chuckled. Darkly, almost without humor, but it was better than nothing. "Hell, Standish. I was going to tell you. But I can't just spit shit like that out. I at least have to kid myself that I tried not to."

The air and heat left Ezra then but he tried not to show it. Instead he just nodded, his hand circling in a small 'go on' motion.

"The idiot who shot you was a sniper on the SWAT crew. All he'd seen was your hand move suddenly and the gun in your pants and he put two and two together to get goddamn nothing." He shook his head. "After the bust you were taken to the hospital to get patched up. They figured you for the collapse due to complete exhaustion and not eating enough." A brow arched over gray eyes. Hastings waved a hand, dismissing any potential for a complication like concern. "Tanner was hauled into the station house, thrown in an interrogation room and left to stew." The pasty face clouded. "Goddamn idiots. Doing some petty toss-up search clutterfuck nonsense, looking for bigger game. For whatever reason they chose not to ignore Tanner on this go round."

Ezra snorted in a huff of impatient breath. Someone, somewhere in the bureaucracy of the Dallas PD knew that Tanner was off limits. That he was being used as an in for an ongoing, intensive undercover operation led by the Feds and to back off. He shook his head. Figured.

Hastings cursed through his teeth. "Next thing I know it's two AM and my goddamn cell phone is ringing and suddenly I'm hauling ass to Dallas because I've got an agent with a plugged bullet hole and a potential key to breaking the Eli Joe ring wide open about to be booked for chickenshit nothings. Goddamn sonsabitches."

Ezra hummed low in his chest. It was enough to keep the man going.

"Anyway, long story short. We used you to get Tanner to turn."

Green eyes narrowed. "How do you mean?" he asked carefully.

A sharp laugh ripped from Hastings' chest. "You know how I mean, goddammit." He shook his head but his words and gesture were without heat. "Last thing Tanner saw was you going down hard. Didn't take much for him to jump to the right conclusions, get morose and spill his guts."

Ezra swallowed. "Did you lead Mr Tanner to believing I'd died from the events of the morning's altercation?

"Nah. We didn't even have to take it that far. We nudged and pushed at him and he wouldn't budge, then it was suggested you be brought into play." Watery gray eyes focused intently on Ezra.

His spine stiffened. Ezra could taste the urgent demand to know who'd made that call, but that really would be pushing it. His left hand clenched into a fist against his thigh and he stayed himself, concentrating on the bite of nail into palm.

Hastings grinned lopsidedly. "Soon as we mentioned you and ole Vinny connected the dots, he muttered something about having nothing left to lose and asked what could we offer in return for what he could offer." He took in a long breath, the air leaving him on a satisfied sigh. "Goddamn but I love when they turn cooperative."

"How cooperative?"

Hastings shrugged carelessly. "Whole kit and caboodle. Went witness protection. Shipped him off just yesterday, in fact." His lips curled in a smile. "So, six months not completely thrown down the crapper after all Standish. We got our man, you got yours. 'Cept we get to keep ours."

Ezra thought about pulling Hastings' head down hard enough to break the man's nose on the conference table. The action would require minimal effort, really, and to such great effect. Another hot minute flashed over and he was calmed. Hastings was simply an insensitive asshole, likely no slur meant, just mere boorishness. Wonderfully gratifying as it would feel it'd make no difference in the end. He let it go.

When that urge subsided, Ezra considered the revelation regarding Vin. It wasn't easy doing such in an implacable, unaffected manner. He managed to scrape it out. "So, did you learn all you needed from him then?" His voice was a trace gritty, the only hint of his inner demons. It was an iffy question at best. Hopefully Hastings would give more but the man certainly wasn't beholden to.

"You know the drill. Wring them dry, write it all down, sign the paper then shuttle 'em away to their new lives. Keep tabs on them long as we might need them, call them back later if we have to. Did the same to Tanner."

Hastings eyes pinned Ezra knowingly, not base enough to be mocking, not kind enough to soften. "And don't you worry. He did tell us - everything."

Ezra pursed his lips but otherwise didn't acknowledge it.

So. That's how they knew unequivocally he'd fucked Vin.

A cruel, delicious irony, to be certain.

He could hear them cajoling and coaching Vin now, twisting words of how this could help Ezra, allowing their witness to believe so much as they stripped away the last of what Vin might have believed in… it was all a lie from the start, Tanner, you were nothing more than the job… Ezra, that was his name - a real man with a real life to lose, one he put on the line for you… you assist us in getting the real bad guy then none of Ezra's efforts will have been in vain… we need you to do this, Ezra needs you…

So his wonderful gentleman Vin had done so, giving up everything to "help" him.

And now there truly was no going back. No begging for understanding and compassion from steely blue eyes once hot with secrets shared only by two; no hunting down the six month bliss to seek forgiveness and turning the half a year into a lifetime.

There would be no finding Vin at all, even if he were to stay with the Bureau.

Ezra fervently hoped that in a few days' time he could sit back and have a good long laugh at all of this. He wasn't convinced his sanity was up to withstanding anything less.

"Goddammit, Standish."

Ezra looked at Hastings. Genuine regret shadowed the man's face. He perked a brow.

"You were the best undercover agent I ever had. Damn shame." He leaned closer. "You sure you don't want to be benched for a few, get back in the fray once this has blown over? I don't doubt I could get you back in somewhere you wanted, not just field work examining mice turds in Wyoming. You could start again."

His eyes fluttered closed and for a moment Ezra wasn't sure he could open them again. When he did he was determined. "I'll not be swayed. Thank you all the same." In deference to civility he didn't laugh brittlely at the hollow, backhanded invitation. One, he noted, that didn't include working for Hastings ever again.

With so little left to say they stared at one another in empty silence. The clock on the far wall ticked a smart cadence, and meaty fingers thrummed an off-balance counter rhythm as Hastings drifted off into space. Ezra was already busy planning, thinking through the order of operations of resigning then moving the hell away from Atlanta and figuring out where to go next.

One place rang through him, an inescapable truth, and Ezra was tired of denying that it was time and it was right.

He sighed deeply, suddenly very relieved that it was going to be over, that he'd admitted where he belonged. God but it'd be good to be home…

Reality came crashing intrusively back around him when a wide palm smacked against the table.

Hastings huffed then stood abruptly. Gray eyes were filled with stern admonition. "Don't trash yourself yet, Standish. Give it a few days, think it over. Decide when it's all a bit less… immediate."

With that his boss was gone. No handshake. No good luck. Not even a stupid, insensitive jab or a blundering attempt at "getting it."

Ezra preferred it that way.

He sat for another minute then slowly gained his feet. A long shuddering stretch seized him and he followed it, yawning deeply. He winced and curled back into himself, his shoulder protesting the wide pull of his muscles. Disinterested feet carried him down the elevator and to the street. Ezra slumped into a cab and requested his hotel.

When they arrived he threw more than was needed at the cabbie with a tight thanks. Getting to his room was automatic, happening almost without his awareness.

He was so tired…

Ezra downed two painkillers with a full glass of water and shuffled out of his shoes as he crossed the room. His suit jacket whumped against the floor and puddled where it dropped. His tie was pulled off still knotted and tossed aside.

He lowered onto the bed, his eyes closed and mind fading before he'd even sunk into the mattress and pillow, a forlorn heap of exhaustion.

*******

Vin watched the streetlight outside his apartment window. It was bright, intrusive, omnipresent. He just kept staring, willing it to go away.

He sighed, finally giving in, finally allowing his tired eyes to shut.

A car alarm pierced the night, tattling to a world that no longer reacted.

Vin hated this place. Just as he'd come to hate Dallas.

Hadn't he promised himself no more of this? Hadn't he made decisions and plans? Not so frivolous dreams of open spaces and a life no longer part of what he'd become trapped within. Hadn't he at last promised himself 'no more?'

Vin gritted his teeth and punched into the mattress. Once. Twice.

A tenth time and still nothing was better.

Weary with defeat he sagged back into the abused bed, his breath cutting raggedly though the muted near-silence of the apartment.

He had resolved all those things. He'd also been on the verge of making good on them. Vin had been about to break away when a new and unexpected reason had induced him to stay, his plans temporarily grinding to a willing halt.

Vin saw it, dancing before his darkened gaze, pictures flitting through his imagination.

Green eyes, perfect cream skin, hair that had his fingers itching from the get go - that sinful body poured into faded jeans and a white t-shirt, the man somehow managing to make the outfit seem like a three piece suit.

They'd met by accident. Bumped into one another. Shared smiles and more than one glance then eventually lunch that same day and then, a much further eventually, so much more.

Vin punched the mattress again.

He'd thought they'd met by accident. Had actually believed that for once the fates had smiled kind upon him, their plaiting fingers weaving to leave a blessing in their wake. And Rick had seemed just that.

He smiled bitterly. Rick… no, not even that had been allowed him.

Ezra.

The name he now knew reverberated through his mind. For whatever reason Vin felt it suited better. The unusual name zinging off his lips, buzzing his tongue and resounding with a distinctive flair. Despite himself he liked it.

Now a brittle chuckle escaped him, growing from his cruel smile. This whole fucked up twisted mess had granted him one reprieve. When he'd called that name, rasped heated and low as he'd bent for their first kiss, green eyes had sparked in answer but he hadn't missed the shadow. Rick, he'd said… Rick, I wanna kiss you now. Am gonna kiss you now… God, Rick… want it… so much…

That shadow had given his heart pause. A stab of disappointment and angered fear his voice was the wrong one saying that name with such raw need and invitation.

But it had been the name that was wrong, not him.

Vin closed his eyes tighter, fighting the hot prick of sudden and weak tears. He hated them for being there, hated himself for nearly letting one spill. He'd already lost everything to this. He wasn't about to lose himself as well.

A halting sigh and several long breaths followed before Vin was reasonably calm again.

He blinked open his eyes, glaring balefully at the sulfur lamp intruding into his small bedroom.

No more of this.

He'd start again.

Somewhere with wide open spaces; somewhere the damn Feds could find him but he could at least pretend they couldn't reach him.

Somewhere he could teach himself to forget Ezra.

*******

Ezra took a last breath then got out of his car. He stood slowly, righting his body, aligning his spine, straightening his shoulders. He made himself externally perfect and shut the rest away. Smart, confident steps carried him towards the building, efficient and outwardly cool as always. As he passed inside he didn't spare any glances around, making his way and his business just that, his own. He wondered if everyone was truly staring at him or if it just felt that way.

God. He really wasn't looking forward to this.

Up the elevator then down the hall. Take the first left in the corridor and keep walking. Smile at the receptionist and push on inside. Practiced nonchalance had him easing into his chair, the quiet hum of his computer as it booted up almost obscured by the snapping of his briefcase as he opened it.

Ezra let himself peek around. Either everyone was doing a damn good job of studiously ignoring him or they actually were unperturbed by his presence. He avoided sighing with relief. It wasn't that he'd rationally expected all of his coworkers to know what he'd done, but the feeling couldn't be ignored that he felt he was marked somehow, that his sleeping with Vin could be divined from his very skin. Ezra concertedly pushed the misgivings and apprehensions away.

He was here to wrap up and formally resign. Even the worst would only have to be endured for today. Beyond that he did have the going chance that most everyone was still ignorant.

Green eyes rolled. Right. As if gossip would have traveled more slowly than the eight days he'd been in Dallas, and the week he'd taken to decompress once back in Atlanta, hidden away in his townhouse.

Ezra glanced back up at the monitor and furrowed his brow. His email automatically opened when he logged on. It was taking an inordinate amount of time to load.

When he restored the program from his taskbar he immediately understood why. Color drained from his cheeks, his mouth pursing to a grim line. The server was busy downloading message 1,114 of 2,872 to his inbox. Ezra scanned through the subject lines of the messages that had already made it through the queue.

"Hot and horny and wanting to cum in your ass… I'm big and slick and hard and ready to ride… Welcome to barely legal boy fucks!.."

Ezra didn't even react. Patiently he waded through the messages, deleting and purging all of the gay porn spam that had "mysteriously" found its way to him. When that task had been seen to he read the few legitimate emails and moved on. More would arrive, he knew, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Nor did he really care. After today he would be expunged from all the systems anyway.

Still, he slipped the internet security and hidden computer file cleaning cd he'd brought from home into the disc drive. He hadn't ever done any personal business on his office computer, but it never hurt to be paranoid.

The phone rang. Ezra perked his brow at it and let it sound twice before answering.

"Hello?"

"Agent Standish, just reminding you of your meeting with Deputy Chief Hastings at 9:15."

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

The line went dead and Ezra let the phone slip from his hold back into the cradle. He had less than ten minutes to prepare and show up for his first grilling of the day.

More messages popped up to fill his inbox.

"My slutty asshole will never get enough!… Thanks for joining the exclusive and sensational Totally True Tales of Bug Chasers… I'm still a virgin but I've been waiting for the right man to break me in…"

He let his eyes close and finally Ezra sighed, all of the misery managing to break past the weak points chinked in his defenses.

It was going to be an impossibly long day.

*******

"If it makes you feel any better at all, I wouldn't have lasted six minutes with the guy. Never mind six months."

Ezra looked up from the now empty middle drawer of his desk. Leaning one-hipped against the entryway to his cubicle was Tess Boyd. Competent, a bit bookish, Tess mostly kept to herself and did her job. Ezra had enjoyed the encounters he'd had with the woman; she was smart and kept pace with his sharp wit and wide vocabulary without blinking. He wasn't upset that of anyone to bring this up with him, it'd be her. Ezra shook his head lightly and shrugged as his answer.

Tess took that as permission and she landed herself in Ezra's chair. "I snuck a peek at the profile. What a sweet drink of water he musta been… good for you." She winked, her mouth quirking at the corners.

Ezra smiled and situated a binder into the box. He nodded, hands momentarily stilled over their task of emptying his spartan office. He was almost finished gathering his personal effects. It had always been his rule not to have many to begin with. All his meetings were concluded, exit interviews and debriefings and security admonitions seen to, his papers signed and delivered, his file on the verge of being sealed shut.

"So, what bullshit reason did they give for canning you?"

Ezra shook his head. "They required no reason. I resigned."

Tess' eyes sparked. "Like I said, what bullshit reason did they have for canning you?"

At this Ezra laughed aloud. It was a short burst but it felt good. One of the qualities in Tess he'd always found so charming - her blunt forthrightness.

"It is simply better I go. I think we all understand that." Ezra sighed lightly. "There was no concerted force of will to coerce me into resigning." His mouth twisted. "However, nor were they unduly upset to hear of my decision to leave."

Tess grumbled, the low sound incongruous coming out of the petite frame. "It still reeks, regardless of whomever it was that made the decision."

Ezra slid the box off the other chair in his office and nodded slowly. He sunk down onto the cushion. Despite feeling like he wanted and needed a confidante right now, someone to commiserate with, he held his tongue. No good would come of allowing himself to get mired in a bitch session, no matter how cathartic it would feel in the moment.

Instead he shrugged and said casually, "It was time."

During the lull in their conversation a pop-up ad appeared, the grinning countenance of a barely dressed beefcake gripping his groin through a g-string dancing on his monitor.

Tess clucked her tongue. "Nice," she said, tone dry. "Kinda makes you wonder how whoever it was found all this stuff so readily, eh?" Her brow arched meaningfully.

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Oh indeed," he answered. He didn't even bother to close the ad, letting the leering man hover. He'd given up on clearing out his inbox hours ago.

Over Tess' shoulder he saw Hastings, gray eyes finding and locking with his. His allotted time for making himself scarce was evidently up. Ezra nodded towards the door.

"I do believe this is my cue to leave."

She snorted inelegantly. "How civilized of them to provide you with an escort. Make certain you aren't getting away with a stash of paperclips or something."

Ezra breathed a laugh and hefted the box by its handles. He smiled at Tess. "Thanks, Tess. And good luck - I wish you the best."

She didn't try for any more, didn't work to make the moment any longer or have more importance than it really did. They'd been good enough friends at work but that was all. Ezra really didn't want to go through the loathsome rituals of exchanging emails and cell phone numbers with empty promises of keeping in touch that both parties knew would never be honored. He was relieved that Tess made no effort to pursue such.

"Good luck yourself, Standish." A crooked smile broke her fine features. "For what it's worth, you're a damn good agent. Even counting sleeping with Mr. Delicious Texas like you did."

He nodded but didn't say more. Nothing good to be said anyway. Instead he weaved his way to the main door, through the studious quiet as everyone pointedly ignored him. Hastings nodded and gestured out into the hall and Ezra followed. He had no intention of making this any harder on himself, understood too well the only person to suffer it would be he should he decide to.

They rode down the elevator in silence, all that they may have had to say to one another used up. Hastings had asked one more time that he stay; Ezra had patently refused one last time. The oppressive stillness was broken when the indicator sounded, the elevator doors swishing open to deposit them at the parking garage.

Hastings stepped out, arms crossed, stance wide. "Standish," he gruffed.

Ezra turned around, pausing his determined exodus.

Gray eyes were serious, not forgiving but not exactly censorious. "You'll find your feet."

The tone implied guys like him always did, but also there was undeniable admiration, the sureness coming because Hastings knew Ezra was capable and always had. Ezra bobbed his head once, unable to salute as was his custom with both hands gripping the box.

Ezra didn't linger. He pushed at the long handle on the glass door with a corner of the cardboard, slipping quickly out of the opening before it shushed closed again. When he got to his car he heaved a sigh but didn't falter. He wasn't about to break now.

Instead he balanced the box on the bumper, holding it in place with his thigh as he fished in his pocket for his keys. He deposited the fake wood grain container and slammed the trunk closed again, all the while ignoring the damage that had been inflicted upon his vehicle.

Antenna snapped in half, looking stupid and defeated where it dangled. Each side deeply rutted from something with much greater heft than a key, the long scratches peeking silver from under black paint. The rear window smashed in, a brick lying on the back seat with a note tied around it, two large words printed in dark, bold font visible from here. "Fucking Fag."

Ezra sighed again and opened the door. He hoped the vandals hadn't sabotaged the engine as well. It might prove more than he could take to have to go back inside - even if for just using the pay phone tucked into the elevator bay.

He never got far enough to find out.

The world spun then fuzzed over when something heavy and sharp knocked across the back of his head. Ezra grunted as a hail of kicks and punches battered his body, coming so fast that he was unable to turn, unable to defend. He clunked with painful dullness against the open car door when his legs faltered then collapsed.

The beating continued and Ezra curled into himself, trying his best to seek what protection he could. Low cursing met his ears, an angry buzz. Then all was eclipsed by black.

*******

"Ezra?"

He fought to answer the sound penetrating the thick haze that held him prisoner.

"Ezra?" the voice demanded again.

He knew that voice. It sounded so good to hear it. Ezra smiled.

"Heya Pard," whispered over his ear.

He couldn't do much more than that. Attempts to open his eyes failed, only succeeding with a few flutters of his leaden lids. A low gust of air passed between his lips, almost a groan. He lifted two fingers, seeking. A strong hand wrapped around his.

"I'm right here." Tones hardened. "You're going to be just fine, hear me?"

Ezra managed to nod, small smile still clinging to his lips.

"Good… good."

Blankets were resituated, his brow wiped with a cool cloth.

"Just let yourself go again, Ez. I got ya. Nothing else can happen to you now."

Ezra allowed the growing heaviness to overpower him once more, fully trusting in the promise of those words.

*******

Chris scowled out the window. He shook his head slowly, wondering what had taken him so long to get here.

Not in this specific instance. As soon as he'd been notified that Ezra had been hospitalized he'd careened about, getting the first flight out then barely packing, just throwing a few things in a bag and running for the airport. He hadn't even bothered with a car or reservations to stay anywhere. He knew he wouldn't be leaving this room anyway. But now that he was here sitting in the grim quiet of Ezra's room, the flurry and initial shock past, fully apprised of what had happened, he couldn't stop his questioning. Couldn't stem the tide of doubts and disappointments in himself. And in Ezra too for never asking more of him when he'd always tried to make it so clear that Ezra was allowed to ask.

What had taken him so long to get here… in general and at all… He'd known for a while that Ezra wasn't happy in Atlanta. Known the man needed something else, that the job just wasn't enough anymore, that the months undercover ate away at Ezra, slowly eroding the man inside out. But he'd been afraid to push. Had concluded that Ezra would come to the right decision given time. He hadn't trusted himself to broach the subject, no matter how many times they saw one another through the years - or how few. The last thing he wanted was to push Ezra further away by swooping in and insisting this insanity be given up and to just come back home.

Chris' hazel eyes flicked back to the bed. He tightened his hold around Ezra's hand, the word 'home' thrumming through him. That's where he was going to take Ezra now - he'd be damned if anyone tried to stop him. Just as soon as the doctors cleared Ezra for travel he was loading the man up, getting him away from here and the burden of too many unhappy years and the wretched end that this place now represented.

Instinct told him that the time had finally come that Ezra would no longer resist it.

His mouth twisted bitterly. He wished it hadn't required Ezra being beaten to a pulp to have him here, armed for bear and ready to defy anyone who told him otherwise as he made good on his intentions - even Ezra. But if in the end it brought about what they all needed, Chris supposed he'd take what he could get. He should have played the heavy much earlier, should have seen if simply asking outright would have brought Ezra home.

His eyes closed. Too late for those regrets.

Chris resisted picking up the phone. It would still seem like the middle of the night at home. Hell… it wasn't even dawn here. He knew it was all being handled. Knew the others were fine.

Still, knowing didn't mean it wasn't a relief just to hear Buck's voice.

He sighed, straightening from his slouch. He'd unconsciously sunk further into the uncomfortable chair , oozing closer and closer towards the floor as the night wore on. Chris blinked several times deliberately, rolling his shoulders and neck. A glance at the clock and he made himself a deal.

Hold on for another three hours then he'd call.

Buck would be anxious to hear about Ezra anyway.

With that goal now measured and his mind somewhat settled by it, Chris resumed his patient vigil.

*******

Ezra sighed, that comforting, full feeling of 'home' settling in around him. They'd turned into the drive, Chris' roomy, older model truck rumbling up the dirt and gravel towards the main house.

He could close his eyes and still know exactly where they were, know exactly what the scenery would look like as it streamed past. It was within him, the timing and the feel of this approach - this place itself.

Without his bidding his eyes had dropped closed, making good on his mental assertion that he really didn't need to keep watch. When a few soft words intruded he managed to hum in answer.

"We're here," Chris prompted quietly.

Ezra nodded slowly, letting his eyes drift back open. He couldn't help but smile. "I know," he murmured, more to himself than anything.

Chris had already exited the truck and was out of sight when Ezra stirred himself. He reached down only to let go again when the door opened, handle moving out of his light grasp. He looked up, the hint of his smile growing to a full grin. Long arms secured his tired slide from the truck, catching him soundly in a supportive, welcoming embrace.

A warm voice whispered, "Glad you're home, Ez."

He sighed deeply, eyes again giving into his growing fatigue. Traveling here had taken a lot out of him.

Strong arms moved to cup around his shoulders and he was held away. Ezra stood fast, knowing he was being given a thorough inspection. He pried his eyes back open, meeting hooded blues, full of concern and that big brother care he'd come to rely upon from this man.

He shook his head at the implicit questions. "I'll be fine, Buck. Promise." Two fingers rose between them as he saluted smartly.

They both laughed.

Buck turned against him, maneuvering him smoothly, arm slung around his shoulders.

"Damn right you are," the confident voice intoned.

It made Ezra believe it could be true again.

Buck started them into motion and Ezra naturally followed, walking under the steady weight resting across his shoulders. The thick, sturdy front door had been left hanging open, the mellowed wood pushed back in anticipation of his arrival. His eyes skimmed greedily, locking on all the things that told him this was home.

The dark, heart-shaped whorl of a knot in the corner of the foyer in the cherry wood flooring. The coat hooks along the molding fashioned from bent horseshoes. The peak of sunshine where it spilled into the kitchen at the far end of the hall.

God it was good to be back.

Ezra moved instinctively, following a well-known route under Buck's guiding arm. His feet took him without thought and soon he was looking with relief into his room; relief that he'd made it, relief that he could finally sleep, relief that they'd kept it as his room even after all this time.

He stood just inside the door, nodding tiredly at Chris who had been just behind carrying his luggage. He hadn't brought much, most of what he owned boxed up and shipped here during the weeks he'd been recovering at the hospital. Once his bags were dropped Chris turned to him.

"Get some sleep. We'll see you when we see you, okay?" Chris smiled but his hazels were diminished with the worry that he was trying to hide, fatigue of his own.

Ezra agreed mutely with a bob of his head. His eyes and limbs were both nearly too heavy to sustain much longer anyway. And now that it was finally safe to just give in and let go, he wanted to indulge it. A firm hand pushed him and he gave, sinking onto the bed with a long sigh. Ezra toed out of his sneakers and peered up at Buck.

"You needn't stay. I won't last long anyway. Besides, Chris is doubtless anxious to see you."

Buck settled in further, easy smile lurking under his mustache. "If you won't last long then I won't be here long. And Chris'll keep." A blue eye winked. "Now just close your eyes and get comfy and I'll tell you all about what's been going on here at the ponderosa."

Ezra's mouth perked at the nickname. He mumbled his sleepy consent, liking the attention despite himself, allowing the blankets to be arranged about him without so much as a grumble.

"Let's see… For A Farthing finally foaled."

Soft, rumbling laughter surrounded Ezra.

"How's that for a sentence?" Merriment tickled Buck's voice. "JD helped her through that one. Was storming that night something fierce. You'd have loved it. We named him A Pretty Penny…"

Ezra heard nothing else.

*******

Chris stretched and sighed, cuddling back into Buck's warm embrace as soon as his deep yawn had spent itself. He nuzzled along the stubbled column of neck, kissing his way to a broad shoulder before resting onto it, tucked there using his lover as a pillow. His hands idled over warm skin, reveling in the sensations he'd been missing the long weeks spent in Atlanta. He hadn't begrudged Ezra a moment of it, but damn he'd missed this.

Kisses were feathered to Buck's pulse point. "Missed you," Chris whispered.

The lazy circles Buck drew over his back ceased, that hand moving to tighten and draw him closer. Chris let his eyes shut, let himself be insinuated to Buck's length.

"Missed you too, Chris. But it was important you go - to help Ez and to finally get his stubborn butt back home." The quiet voice deepened. "Hate it like I do, in a crazy way I'm glad he was found out, glad he more or less got the boot. It gave us all a good reason to drag him back here." Buck paused. " 'Course, I could happily kill the sonsabitches that beat him so bad - and the whole damned bureau while I'm at it… but I'm working on letting that go. Ez doesn't need that right now."

Chris nodded into Buck's chest. "True. Besides, I just got home and I don't feel like going anywhere just yet. And if you run off to pound those fuckers into the pavement you know I won't let you have all the fun alone." He chuckled darkly.

"Wish it'd actually do some good," Buck said, tone reflective, a trace saddened.

That sobered Chris effectively. "Doesn't matter. Ez will get all the good he needs right here. We can make sure of that."

He heard and felt Buck's smile at his words, his head lightly jostled when his lover nodded and hugged him tighter for a beat.

Chris smiled in answer. "I did get some satisfaction," he teased.

"Oh?" Buck asked, their bodies moving against one another so they could rest on the same pillow, face to face. A brow curved over expectant blue eyes.

"Oh," Chris answered, hazels wicked, mouth an evil curl of a smile.

Buck huffed. "Well?" he urged.

"Just the pleasure of being able to light into Ezra's boss - didn't bother to be polite and wait until we were safe in his office either." He grinned, the gesture more a baring of teeth than of humor.

Kisses peppered down his face, and Buck's answering grin warmed them.

"Sounds delicious. Wish I coulda seen it…" Buck murmured between nips and licks. "Gory details, Larabee." He pulled back, face bathed pale with the moonlight spilling into their room. "Don't spare me a moment. I can take it." Teeth showed up, cropping onto the corner of Buck's mouth, a gesture of anticipation.

Chris allowed a moment of silence to pull between them, waiting until Buck had boosted above him, blue eyes narrowing in warning before he gave a bit more. He raised his hands, running them up the strong arms holding Buck aloft over him. "Patience," he chastised.

Buck growled and dropped back on top of him, smothering him with a deep kiss and that long, perfect body.

When the kiss ended Buck charged, "Don't have any. You know that." His mustache twitched, Buck trying hard to hold a scowl instead of breaking into a grin.

Chris smiled, mellow and pleased, then he capitulated with ease. As he spoke his let his fingers wander, wanting to feel Buck, tracing the handsome face then spanning the lightly furred chest, down and around in aimless wanders. His tone was conversational as he began to recount.

"Let's see… it was the middle of the day when I showed up so there were plenty of people around… I had not one but two secretaries trailing me, apologizing and attempting to rein me in… Hastings was just leaving a meeting, so a few of his peers and superiors got to watch as well…" He grinned again, face alive with devilment. "You should have seen the look on Hastings face when I introduced myself and got him acquainted with my, ah, grievances."

Chris pulled an impersonation, dragging his brows low in a false scowl then letting them shoot up in exaggerated panic. Buck laughed in answer, settling tucked along his side, cheek propped on a hand, the other hand perched around his hip, blue eyes intent.

He smiled up into Buck's eyes, letting his face relax again. Chris started from the beginning of his trip, from the frantic run through Hartsfield airport that started his time in Atlanta to it ending there as well - with Ezra in tow, the two making a leisurely time of getting on the plane he'd secured first class tickets for.

Buck listened to it all with avid, interested attention, laughing and looking softly worried by turns. Chris didn't spare the details, feeling the tension and tiredness cured as his Buck absorbed his winding dialogue. It felt like he'd been gone years instead of just over a month. The anxiety over Ezra had been tough enough to push through. Adding to his weariness was that once he'd landed in Atlanta he'd never stopped. Each item from his self-imposed list of chores was enough to keep a person busy all by itself - and he'd tackled it as a whole.

Closing up Ezra's townhouse, securing movers to pack it all, seeing that it got shipped to the ranch; making endless demands of the FBI to cover medical expenses lest they want this incident to get even uglier; doing a touch of snooping around he'd never tell Ez or Buck about, seeing if he could find at least one of the assholes who'd fucked with Ez; the fact that he lived out of a hospital room, not a hotel, all his hours not spent running around at Ezra's side.

Chris came to a stop, suddenly out of words and out of the energy to think of more. Buck smiled and glided down for a sound kiss. He answered it readily. When they pulled away blue eyes regarded him knowingly.

"Time for sleep," Buck ordered affectionately.

He moved to make enough room for his lover to ease down beside him again, light protest on his lips. Buck's fingers rested against them, stilling his movement.

"Ah-ah," he preempted. "I'll tell you all the gory details of what happened while you were away - tomorrow." Buck's brow arched.

Chris considered pressing the point for all of about a second but he let it go without any real difficulty. It was so much better to just snuggle closer, to lift his head for a goodnight kiss, to sigh with the satisfied finality of at last being where he belonged again.

"Love you," washed over him, syllables loose and drawn out as Buck fell towards sleep.

He mumbled, "Love you," only a breath after, following the soft decline into sleep on the next.

*******

Vin straightened, grimacing as he twisted left then right. He reached into his back pocket and tugged loose his bandana, using it to mop at his sweat and hay encrusted brow. He let himself stand for a moment, enjoying not being bent in half. He was about to dig in again when a cheerful voice interrupted.

"Enough for now, Vin. C'mon over and have a breather. I know I'm ready for a drink."

His mouth quirked in a smile and he nodded, letting the pitchfork clunk back against the stall. He shoved his handkerchief into his pocket as he made his way down the long corridor of the stable, eyes starting to squint as he neared the big, open door filled with sunlight.

Vin eased down onto a hay bale and leaned against the barn, taking the bottle of water with a quiet thanks. He sipped on it thoughtfully.

It was good here. Very good. He'd found his wide open spaces, had made it out from under the repressive glare of that streetlamp. Only a week in at Albuquerque and he'd seen the ad in the paper, had answered it full of butterflies and anticipation.

Wanted: ranch hand. Know your way around horses and hard work. Room, board and fair pay included. Liking lots of outdoors is a plus. Call Dueling C's and ask for the boss.

Settling him in Albuquerque had seemed strange logic to Vin. Not all that far from Dallas, another city - smaller, true, but still one on the move, a place with trouble similar to the kind that had run him into the ground in the first place. It'd been explained that it wasn't always the distance that was important for disappearing completely, it was the setting. His drawl had been lightly mocked, one of the agents sniggering at the likelihood of his blending naturally into a small, gated community in Connecticut, but it still made the point. He'd held his tongue and accepted what came, accepted the treatment. Not much choice for doing otherwise.

The city was a place big enough so it wouldn't raise an eyebrow that yet one more person had landed within it, new and needing a fresh start and wanting no questions. So that's what he'd done. He'd been planning on finding a new job as soon as he could anyway, knew that the feds would only keep him for so long. Only wanted to live beholden to them for so long too. Each morning had been the same, a quiet cup of coffee at the greasy spoon on the corner of his block, pouring over the want ads. The one for this place had leapt out at him, Vin certain it was just what he needed.

A breathless phone call then a luncheon interview later and he'd packed up his paltry belongings and had thankfully landed here. His own cabin, his own horse to ride whenever he felt it, brunch at the big house on Sundays, dinner whenever he felt like joining, and two bosses he actually liked. Men he was already starting to see as friend more than just his superiors.

He hadn't given a rat's ass that it was more than an hour away. Hadn't checked in with his fed buddies to make sure it'd be okay either. Way he saw it they'd find him if they really needed to. The change of information had been easy enough to slip back to them quietly, the breathed sigh of thanks that escaped as he'd given his new phone number - wonderfully retaining the same area code - the only time his confident tones had wavered when he'd relayed the update to his contact.

Vin took another long pull of the cooling liquid then roused himself from musing. "Chris get home from Atlanta with his cousin okay?"

Buck smiled, face creasing deeply with affection and humor. "Yeah. Was pretty wiped from the trip, but they're both gonna be fine. Thanks."

He nodded and they lapsed back into an easy silence. He hadn't been on board very long and Chris had gotten a phone call - family in trouble and needing help. Vin had respected the man for dropping everything and going; respected him equally for knowing the trust in Buck to handle the place was sound, that leaving on such short notice would be just fine. It'd been explained to him over dinner that Chris had gone. He hadn't been told about the cousin and he hadn't pressed for details. Vin liked it here and he liked the men he worked for - but he wasn't quite to the point of outright asking for more than was readily disclosed.

Buck had been mildly distracted with Chris gone, but Vin more than understood that. He'd seen the looks the two shared, the touches that were more than friendly. It hadn't taken him long to figure out what kind of relationship the two C's this place was named for had. He smiled to himself - Vin was the last person to mind such a thing. This he had screwed up his courage about, had told exactly that one night after he'd finally allowed himself the wonderful indulgence of actually accepting the invitations to come for dinner. Already it was important for him to know they could trust him, be comfortable around him the way he sometimes observed from afar when they were with JD or Josiah.

The dinner table had ground to an abrupt stop and for a moment Vin was worried he'd been too impetuous. Then JD had laughed, brown eyes twinkling, a light 'told you so,' tripping off his tongue before he stuck out it at Buck. For his part Buck had playfully menaced JD in turn, a blue eye winking thanks at Vin.

'No reason you shouldn't know,' Chris had said, eyes forthright but challenging. It was clear that if Vin had harbored phobias or hatred he wasn't welcome here - that Chris and Buck's relationship was just part and parcel of the whole that made Dueling C's. It wasn't something that was flaunted to the world at large, that was easy enough for Vin to tell. But for those working and living here it was a requirement to at least accept it even if it wasn't fully understood. It had made him smile, filled with warmth to have passed this rite, to have been welcomed so easily to the inner circle. Chris had nodded at him and Vin had nodded back. Then Chris had spent the rest of that dinner with a secretive, pleased smile lighting his face.

Vin had quietly asked JD for clarification on what precisely he'd told his foster brother was so. JD had grinned, saying he'd figured pretty quick Vin to be someone who would be cool with it. Brown eyes had danced and Vin had laughed at the impish "damn it's good to be right," that had been zinged at the lovers.

He chuckled and Buck hummed in question. Vin shook his head, letting himself ooze further down. He gestured with his empty water bottle towards the horses. "Pretty Penny - sure does suit."

Vin didn't turn towards Buck, instead keeping his focus on the nearby paddock he'd indicated. For A Farthing and son were prancing around in one of the smaller pens, JD in with them. The youngest rancher was checking up on them, making sure all was okay, patting them down and offering Farthing some sweets to help her stay well nourished. Dueling C's vet had come out the day after A Pretty Penny had been birthed. Nathan had stood along the railing with the rest of them, marveling at the deep blue with grayed dapple marks on his nose and rump, all of them laughing when spindly, uncertain legs broke the spell. Nate had pronounced both to be quite fit and had praised JD on a job well done. JD had proudly - and a bit proprietarily - seen to the pair ever since.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Buck turn then nod. "Yeah. Think we might go stud on him."

Vin grinned. "Like him that much already, eh?"

Buck snorted good-naturedly, reaching over and slapping Vin lightly across the shoulders. "Ole' Buck here knows a beautiful piece of flesh when he sees it. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He waggled his brows, leaning in close.

Now Vin snorted, blubbering over the swallow of water he'd just taken from a fresh bottle. He spluttered and laughed, swatting at Buck to stop 'helping' him. Next thing he knew he'd toppled right off the hay bale and onto the ground.

"Everything okay Cowboy?"

Vin let his eyes stay closed when Chris' voice broke over him, teasing and not even trying to conceal laughter.

"Fine, I'm just fine," he grumbled. Vin lifted one of his legs and used it as a lever, bringing it towards the ground to counterweight the rest of him so he could sit up again. He tucked his arm around the hay bale for support, catching his head in his other hand, awash with vertigo after the trip.

"Ehh," Vin mumbled. "Maybe I'm not so good as all that."

"Here," a strong hand cupped Vin's arm. "Got someone I want you to meet."

He nodded, staggering some but he quickly regained his balance. Just long enough to see who he was to be meeting and fall right back onto his ass.

"Woah there Vin! You okay?" Buck crouched down, blue eyes concerned. "Maybe we should call Nate?"

Although Nathan was a veterinarian by trade, the man knew a great deal about healing - animals and people. Most of the ranchers and other folk who lived so remotely relied upon Dr Jackson's care for their own needs as well as their stock's.

Vin shook his head. "Naw, I really am fine. Just… lost my head for a minute is all." He closed his eyes, not wanting to see who was standing in front of him. Not wanting to be filled with such desperation to haul the man into his arms to devour. Not able to deny being filled with relief and fear and anticipation.

"You sure you're alright?" Chris' tone was light but pointed.

"Yeah. I'm good." Vin made himself open back up to the world, forced a smile. He met hazel eyes square on. "So," he said, voice only mildly stressed. "Who am I meeting?"

The diversion worked. Chris smiled instantly, turning to gesture at the man by his side. "This here's my cousin Ezra." He swept a hand between the group. "Ezra? Meet our newest, Calvin Hunter."

Buck's laughter filled the silence. "But don't go calling him Calvin. He won't even turn around and acknowledge it." A blue eye winked. "Prefers Vin," he whispered theatrically.

Vin was swimming, hopelessly adrift - near to drowning. The initial shock was gone, being slowly and methodically replaced with anger and betrayal. Under that was a tiny voice telling him Ezra must be feeling the same - for who here had truly betrayed whom? Suddenly the world was much too tiny, not even close to being able to hold Vin within it. He swallowed rapidly, eyes wild as he scanned the far horizon, wondering how long it'd take to disappear if he just started running and didn't stop.

After a moment longer it occurred to him that everyone was waiting. Waiting for him to respond. He forced a smile. "Well, Charles," he stated pointedly, staring at Buck under an arched brow, "some people's given names just never quite fit, ya know?"

Chris and Buck laughed. Ezra managed a chuckle. Vin felt like he was going to retch.

He hadn't been able to resist the shortening of his new name, hadn't deigned to consider greater consequences. It hadn't seemed an issue. He could still be Vin - and better he could be Vin here, in a place where he'd found people he wanted to know him for who he really was. Now it didn't seem like such a good idea. Nothing did.

Another long second then Ezra stepped forward without hesitation, hand extended. Green eyes were a mystery, that handsome face a mask. Vin gritted his teeth and took the proffered hand, held it firm with his own. Try as he might he couldn't ignore the shockwaves that assaulted him at the touch, couldn't deny the same electricity he'd felt the first time he'd met Ezra.

"Mr Larabee, nice to meet you," he murmured politely.

Buck laughed. "No, he's not a Larabee. Not even close… hell, I think you and Ez are what - third half cousins?"

Chris' grin broadened. "If that."

The hand in Vin's tightened a fraction.

"Standish. Ezra Standish." A phony smile followed the introduction.

Vin didn't let go when Ezra tried to slip from his grasp. He just kept holding. "Ezra," he said quietly, marveling over the name and being able to actually say it to the man it belonged to. A man he'd thought lost to him forever.

An evil part of him wanted to cause discomfort in Ezra, wanted the man to see the accusations of betrayer and how could you that he knew he couldn't banish entirely from his eyes. So he just kept on holding.

Without realizing it he said 'Ezra' again, this time a mere whisper, roughed tones just managing to be heard above the background noise of their surroundings.

Ezra's face lost all color, the pale skin becoming near bloodless, looking blue under the midday sun. It was then Vin let the hand go, noting how it had jerked then had drained of warmth. He started to see things.

Shadows of bruises on Ezra. Darkened circles under his eyes, the contrast even greater now against the whitened skin. His left arm, tucked close in a protective hold. Body curled some, held as if standing so long had aggravated it.

Vin started forward, wanted to ask what was wrong, what had happened. Anger from betrayal fell away, sinking rapidly under his growing tide of rage born of fear and protective concern.

Chris and Buck beat him to it. He let it happen, staying a step removed where he belonged.

Rapid questions were asked, Ezra assuring he was fine, that the walk and the sun's warmth weren't overtaxing him. Chris made the terse reminder that he wasn't long out of the hospital - Ezra worked to brush the attention aside. Buck soon intervened and guided Ezra away, talking of sitting on the porch with lemonade, enjoying the breeze.

Vin watched in miserable silence as Buck led Ezra away, listening to the burred voice talking about Farthing and her new foal and to just look at them. His eyes followed as the two walked slowly away, Buck's arm around Ezra's shoulders, the shorter man leaning into the support.

When they were several paces away the question came from him without his wanting.

"What happened?"

He turned to face Chris, working to keep himself reasonably in check. The last he'd known Ezra had been shot. Ezra looked more like he'd been run over.

Chris' eyes hardened; his face hardened. "Job problems," was the terse reply.

"Oh," Vin pushed out lamely.

"Something about Ez that people didn't like was found out." Chris' head bobbed to the pair now ambling towards the big ranch house. "They let him know it."

Now Vin was certain he was going to throw up. Then his hands started sweating and he felt cold then terrifyingly hot, one right after the other. "Ya mean he got beat up for something he did?"

He didn't want to know. Didn't want to be told.

Chris' head swiveled back around. "He got beat up all right." He shook his head slowly, eyes closing for a moment.

Vin realized that gesture told just how bad the beating had been.

Hazels opened again, angry and disappointed and proud. "Damn cowards jumped him. He never had a chance to fight back." He paused, the furious eyes cooling a fraction. "But not for something he did - for who he is."

Vin swallowed several times, once again repeating to himself that he wasn't going to be sick.

Oh, god. They knew because he'd told. This had happened to Ezra because of him.

Vin's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "The bastards who did it - they find any trouble?" His voice was tight and dangerous. Dark thoughts filled his head, dancing pictures of pain and revenge.

Chris' face relaxed, a surprising yet natural change. "No. Can't even be sure who was involved. If I did, I'd make sure they found unhappiness. But I don't think we'll ever know… and his old job sure isn't going to press to find out." He smiled. It was sad but not resigned, cynically understanding of the world. "That's the way of it. Wish I could change it but I can't. Figure too Ez has seen enough because of this. Doesn't need me chasing my tail all angry, allowing it to invade our home."

"Ain't right," Vin hissed. He knew what Chris was saying was reasonable. But he wasn't feeling reasonable.

Chris laughed lightly. "No shit."

A hand clasped over Vin's shoulder.

"All I can do is help Ez here, get him through this and onto better best I can. I understand how you feel, believe me… and… I appreciate your feelings on our behalf. But no good can come of holding onto it." Chris shook his head, looking like he was still trying to convince himself of it.

Vin bobbed his head in answer. "Yeah," he said quietly, figuring he ought to say something but having no idea what should be said.

He couldn't well explain that it wasn't enough, that he felt an inner wrath fueling him to hunt down and make pay whomever it was that had fucked with Ezra. That all the duplicity and his enraged shame had been torched in an instant, consumed by greater feeling of his guilt for causing this to happen to Ezra and having no way to fix it. His vehemence had likely already seemed unexpected for one so new to this place, this circle. Vin couldn't risk drawing more attention to himself by not letting this go when Ezra's own kin could.

They stood in thoughtful silence before Vin took a step away.

"I'll finish up with the stalls. Best you get on back to the house, see how they're doing, the three of you enjoy the afternoon." He managed a light smile.

Chris' eyes smiled back. "You almost done? I could help, or JD… I'm sure Josiah's around somewhere too."

Vin couldn't help but warm at the question. All of them here already had true concern for him, decent motives he couldn't claim having been familiar with before now. 'Friends' was what he'd call the type of relationship they were growing to have. It was an odd feeling. Good, but still odd.

He shook his head. "Naw, I'm all good. Buck and I were about through when you arrived." Vin nodded backwards. "I think Josiah's off working on the old chapel. Take longer to find him and get him back here than to just finish the job myself."

Chris nodded, wry smile of understanding on his face. Josiah, resident handyman - just another stray Dueling C's had brought into the fold along the way. The big man had made a hobby of the old mission church, trying to restore it. It hadn't fared well out here, made of actual timber and not earth, but the man said he wasn't in any hurry. Everyone believed him; everyone teased that it was a damn good thing, too.

Vin set himself into motion, waving towards the house as he retreated back into the stables. "On with you now, Cowboy," he said with a smile.

A last nod then Chris was gone.

For a long time Vin hid in the darkened structure, a brooding figure hunkered against the wall. He let his eyes close, vainly working to decipher the riddles of fate, that cruel and charitable wench which had not only brought Ezra back into his life but had chosen the exact moment when Vin had looked like shit to do it.

*******

Ezra sat looking out the window and thought of leaving. Vin being here was a complication he wasn't sure he was ready to face. Which was horrid in its ironic black humor - returning here and finding Vin again had been the only two promises on his mind when he'd awoken in the hospital after he'd been beaten bloody and senseless. Ezra wished he knew where else he'd go, for a moment also wishing it'd all just go back to how it was before the Eli Joe undercover op, even if he hated it. At least it would be easier. Comfortable, predictable…

Less than a year ago everything had seemed simple, clear. He'd thought he knew what he wanted - thought he was busy doing it.

Ezra laughed, a rebuke to himself, the sharp noise without humor.

Oh, he'd been so much better at lying to himself then.

He slumped back into his chair and brooded on life and how it fucked with a man. How it seemed particularly ardent in its pursuit of him.

Ezra sighed and blinked a few times, his eyes heavy. He let them stay closed. He wasn't one to long indulge navel gazing and soon ponderous, pensive ruminations shifted directions, leading him to memories instead of uncertainties about his future.

'You'll like them,' his mother had snipped. 'They're family.'

Ezra had tried to melt into the backseat of the rented car, scowling out the few inches of window at eye level at the seemingly unremarkable landscape that spread before him as they sped by. He held in a disappointed sigh, tucking away fear and disillusionment and lonely abandonment to wait until he was alone and could indulge the emotions in private. Maude would only tell him to suck up and get over them anyway, would want to make a cheery impression on this "family," people he'd never heard of until that day.

He'd been too young to fully understand the meaning of burden then - old enough to realize he was exactly that to the people he was thrust upon when Maude no longer needed him around. But the Larabee's had been kind, distant at first but finding their way to accept Ezra as his 'visits' grew in frequency during a five year span. Chris had seemed so old and cool to him then, Mr Larabee imposing yet so wonderfully real, one of the first men he'd ever met that acted normal - not a fellow grifter helping his mother, not a mark, not a temporary watchdog - just Mr Larabee, rancher, father, decent guy.

He'd learned Maude was related through Mr Larabee. Far removed yet imminently claimable. That was always enough for his mother. Ezra had become something of an expected guest during the summers, earning rights through chores to the fun that he hadn't believed would actually exist out here. At eleven years of age his visits abruptly stopped. Mr Larabee had apparently voiced concerns about Maude's treatment and threatened to never let her have Ezra back. So she hadn't risked it. Cynical as it was he'd understood even then that he was still young enough to be valuable to her.

Ezra had been told later that both Mr and Mrs Larabee had passed away, leaving the ranch to Chris' care. The news had been offhand, unconcerned. Ezra hadn't pressed for details, had accepted shock internally, and bottled it deep inside like everything else. But he'd come to find out later that the name had changed as well, reflecting the new guard. Larabee Ranch was now Dueling C's, the title encompassing its owners - Chris and Chris' longtime friend Buck. Ezra had liked Buck from the start; Buck had been the first to put him at ease when he'd arrived, always allowing him to come along even though he could have been seen as a childish nuisance, helping him to feel just as old and cool and importantly necessary as he saw the two elder boys to be.

Just when he'd given up on ever finding his way back he'd arrived as a sullen teen, imposed upon Chris, newly grieving the loss of a wife and child. The deaths and Chris' subsequent state - or its effect on either of them - hadn't been a trifle for his mother, outwardly mercurial, but in truth mercenary to the core. She needed a place to stash Ezra and with the Mr gone there was nothing preventing her from doing such. Despite Chris and the man's hollow, drunken, angry condition, Ezra had been dumped, left behind with a myopic, self-serving callousness only one such as Maude could achieve.

To say the initial months had been difficult would be a gross understatement. To say they'd been hell would be lying, because at least he'd landed in a place that had the rhythm of stability even if its owner was disinterested in participating for the time being - a place with memories and comforts that filled much what Chris couldn't provide. He'd been relatively happy with the long days as he re-familiarized himself with riding, the longer ones after that where he'd take off, seeking a quiet only found under a turquoise sky so big it looks like its embracing the earth.

But all moments of good aside it had nearly sunk Ezra under. The tenuous, uncomfortable silence that pervaded the house, the two of them existing so shallowly together, his watching Chris so quickly degrade right before his helpless eyes.

Time passed as it was wont to do, methodical in its mellowing, slowly claiming Ezra and Chris back into its fold of comfortable inertia. Ezra grew much less surly and passively rebellious; Chris dried out and gave up on being so outwardly, destructively angry. They were a horribly matched set, each so headstrong and willful, filled with hate for the world and resentment towards one another. So they'd done the only thing that came naturally to them - allowed the other to think the growing contentment was a grudging half-gesture given only in the name of self preservation and sanity.

They'd managed. Both too obstinate to admit defeat and neither cruel enough to truly give up. And along the way of muddling through they found something. Each other. Not really father and son. Nothing so far removed as the third half cousins they actually were. More like brothers - a condition Ezra found intoxicating and precious and frightening as hell.

Scared because the thought of losing it now that it had been discovered was honestly terrifying.

Buck had come back then; truly come back. No more weekends away to wine and dine. No more trips to exotic locations where he breezed back tanned and almost reeking with the flush of unattached, whirlwind liaisons. Just Buck, settled into fulltime life at Dueling C's Ranch, to become another vital link in their unorthodox familial chain.

He hadn't come alone. JD had been under Buck's wing, rescued from the airport - as far as the kid had gotten before runnning out of money. JD had been, apparently, hopscotching his way to see California, on the run from a life he'd rather leave behind and no one left alive to worry about him once gone. Buck had taken one look and grabbed the kid up, trundling them both to the ranch before JD knew what had hit him.

Ezra had resented it at first, this intrusion, this competition. His life and niche here was still so fragile and uncertain to him that he'd been convinced that the newness and youthful appeal of JD would render him obsolete. Or that the undeniable closeness between Chris and Buck would upset the delicate balance he and Chris had so newly found and were enjoying. Disgustingly juvenile thoughts for a fifteen year old and he hated having them, hated being so fucking pedestrian and predictable - but he hadn't been able to fight it.

Chris hadn't been all that thrilled either, but for much different reasons. The man was already pissed off at having found himself emotionally invested in someone else when he'd vowed never again after his family had fallen - he wasn't looking for any added complications. But Buck had been his usual calm stubborn self, not even arguing the point, just being there, no excuses or apologies for JD - or for himself and the undeniable history that wanted again to become reality that the two men shared

All of this too they'd learned to accept, then eventually rely upon as need. Ezra felt truly at home for the first time in his life. He'd vowed he wouldn't be taken away. Chris had promised him it wouldn't happen. A moot point - Maude never bothered to return for him.

It was hardly a mourned oversight.

Ezra smiled, thinking about the hell he and JD gave to Chris and Buck. Their maneuverings and cons, setting up intricately woven date nights and as many 'just the two of you together, and gee, it happens to be romantic' encounters as they could scheme up. The pair hadn't needed all that much encouragement, had finally admitted and seen the truth of the peace they'd only find in one another. It was argued they'd capitulated and become lovers again to spare themselves from the boys' machinations.

Ezra and JD hadn't cared. They'd strutted proud over it for months… longer even, gladly taking credit even if it came at the expense of being called little terrors, true menaces. It had never occurred to either that the relationship was 'unacceptable.' To them it was two of their favorite people in the world getting what they needed and deserved, at the same time affording Ezra and JD so many more layers of security. Together - really together - meant it was that much less likely that either Chris or Buck would ever go.

Ezra had a deeper appreciation, a burgeoning awareness about himself he had been just starting to sense. One that he later teased proved the "it's genetic" theory hands down.

He had been very happy. Which of course meant that it had to come to an end.

When it had it wasn't from anything overly dramatic. Nothing irrevocable that changed all of their lives, no painful wrenchings coupled with his storming out, no vows of never to return and don't come back anyway thrown at one another. Just Ezra growing into himself as a man, thinking there were greater and bigger worlds to conquer that required him leaving to do so. He'd also grown enough so that he and Chris were clashing again, the willful qualities that had drawn them together now causing them to butt their mule heads. When Ezra had left it hadn't been in a huff. Sure, he'd said 'I'll do fine out there. It's time I go.' He'd thought 'You just wait and see. I'll prove it.' But there had been no spite - and beneath it all the steady undercurrent of knowing he could always come back when he needed.

Remote ranch life and home schooling to college and the FBI had been an abrupt change. But Ezra was a consummate survivor and life with Maude had, if nothing else, introduced him to all sorts of locales and the requirements for living them. He had found his way and had done just fine. Hastings had been correct about one thing - he had been one of the best undercover agents around. And at first it had seemed right, being assigned to Atlanta that he told himself felt like home with its southern warmth and the accent he'd never lost fitting in so fluently. But as the years wore on and he felt himself losing touch with the ranch he started to know regret, started to want for a reason to come home. His real home.

Movement outside the window caught Ezra's eye. JD, Vin and Josiah in a small cluster walking towards the big stable. He sighed and shook his head, wishing he knew what to do. Chris' plan for him was simple, wonderfully straightforward and commanding, put to Ezra in a way he had trouble arguing - a reassuring condition despite this new development. He was to stay in the big house while he recuperated, living here until he was at full steam. Then he'd move.

Ezra smiled at the idea. The place that was to be his was the original farmhouse that had been on the property, smaller than the ranch Chris had built, but it would perfectly suit his needs. Unlike the mission church that had been etched into the land by the Conquistadors this house had been built by pioneers, stopping here when their wagon and will had finally lurched its last. It was incongruent for the area and landscape, but for Ezra that was part of the appeal. He'd always been enamored with it, the white gingerbread and wrap-around porch, the narrow staircases and the wide verandah that stepped off of the large bedroom upstairs. He had always held a secret wish to live there, restore it and find the 'just so' antiques to live within it. Somehow Chris had figured that out. Not that he was surprised.

Chris' voice murmured inside his head…

"It's all ready to go now, Ez. Me'n Buck have gotten it in good shape. Has water, updated electric, climate control. It's sound too, new windows even. All it really needs is finishing - you know, all the crap you'd want to put in it and whatever colors on the walls to make it yours, that kinda thing. 'Cause that's what it is, yours. Always has been. It's ready anytime."

Ezra's eyes faded. That invitation had come to him two years ago.

He wished he hadn't waited so long.

A preemptory knock on the door stemmed the tide of further brooding. Ezra turned to face back into the room, hummed a low invitation. Chris stepped in and they both smiled. He tilted his head towards the chair next to his, watching as the other man settled into it with comfortable familiarity. Over the years they'd had many a talk here.

"How are you feeling?" Chris asked, tone easy but concerned.

Ezra nodded. "I'm okay. Getting better…" He shrugged, out of ways to explain how his physical person continued to mend while his emotional state continued to unravel.

Chris nodded, his lips pursing. The next question caught Ezra completely off guard.

"How do you like Vin?"

Ezra stared for a full three seconds then managed, "Fine." It was garbled and strained.

"Hmm," Chris said, face thoughtful, hazel eyes calculating. "Interesting. That was almost exactly his reaction when I asked him about you."

Ezra didn't breathe then something akin to the sound "Gaaaah," slipped between his lax lips. Sometimes he really, really hated Chris.

"Tell me," Chris said, voice still soft and conversational, threaded with a stern order. One that rang in Ezra's ears, reminding him of when he'd just hupped-to as a child then a teen without much question or argument.

Part of him wanted to throw up the smoke and mirrors, to take Chris way off course and avoid this entirely. Part of him wanted to stuff a pillow up Chris' nose and tell the man to mind his own business. Another part of him won out.

"I know him," he said quietly. Ah... It felt so good to say. Even those three words had the bands of tension around his chest starting to give.

"So I take it you didn't really like one another?" Chris' brows were knit.

Ezra knew if it came to it Chris would ask Vin to leave if he requested it. But he also knew how much Chris already genuinely liked and respected Vin. It made him feel queasy and dishonest to even consider making Chris handle his problems - worse to take a good friend away.

"I mean I Know him," Ezra said, his stare pointed and level, his head tilted meaningfully, voice stressing the 'know' with strict purpose.

Chris' whole body drooped, air leaving him when he thunked against the back of the chair. "Oh," came out distractedly. A few minutes ticked by. "Oh," was repeated again, quieter and with more understanding than surprise.

Ezra gulped and wiped his face with his hand. "Yeah." The word was dry, bereft of humor. He had none left.

"Why don't you tell me about it," Chris invited.

Ezra didn't even fight it. He honestly wanted someone to talk to, needed it, even if he hated to admit it. Talking to Chris was about as easy as it got for him, too. And he knew he could fully trust Chris with all that he'd need to say. So Ezra got comfortable and let it all go.

He talked of preparing for the Eli Joe case. Explained details that had nothing to do with Vin but had become such a part of how he'd found the man that he couldn't omit them or start from the moment he'd seen Vin the first time. That was arrived at and discussed soon enough anyway. His breathless feeling when he'd met his intended entrée to the crime ring, a lower level man by the name of Tanner. The days that followed where their time together grew seamless and perfect, marred by the shadow of the lie Ezra had a duty to fulfill. The final night when they'd at last consummated the undeniable.

Hazels eyes held his, filled with happy delight over Ezra's obvious smitten condition, dimmed with hurt and concern on his behalf that the job had turned so sour, Vin seeming lost to him.

"You could have done worse, you know," Chris finally said, mouth teased with a bare smile.

Ezra felt wrung out. He hadn't talked at such exhaustive length over such a personal matter in a long time. His reaction to Chris' comment was pure bewilderment. It showed clearly in his green eyes.

Chris laughed lightly. "You said Vin wasn't really a bad guy - more a wrong place, wrong time kinda situation, right? Not a true crook and hardly aware of this Eli guy's real business?"

Ezra nodded. It had been the bureau's intention to lure Vin in, get him softened up then have him agree to try and climb the ladder into Eli Joe's true money makers, spying for them and finding out what he could, building enough evidence to finally bring Eli Joe down. Ezra had come to Dallas to lay the ground work, doing some snooping of his own using Vin as a reason and a shield to be places he normally shouldn't.

"So, here we have a very attractive guy who's a decent sort even if he's messed up a few times and landed in a tight spot. One who genuinely liked you from the start as well - and the two of you took six months getting to know one another, built a friendship that must have been good and enjoyable or it never would have gone so far since you didn't have a fast, meaningless fuck from the get-go…" Chris shrugged. "I'm not saying the circumstances were perfect or that getting so attached and emotionally involved with him while under was a good idea, but I'm not sure it was all bad either."

It made him feel ridiculously better to hear it. Relieved that the thoughts mirrored his own so closely. Ezra smiled sadly, looking back out the window. All the same this whole mess wasn't solved. Not even close.

"You don't give your heart easily, Ez. Never have. I'd say whatever happened between you was more real than not."

Ezra turned back to face Chris when the soft words washed over him. He shook his head, a dozen arguments already on his lips. He never got one out.

Hazels eyes were penetrating, serious. "Doesn't matter who you were or weren't pretending to be when you met, Ez. You'd never have let him in or so close if whatever barrier that's inside of you wasn't reached through by Vin. Meaning he did get to know you - you, Ez. Not the job, not the name he called you."

It was infuriating and strange when Chris did that to him… and soothing and calming and reassuring that there was someone on the planet who knew him so well. Part of him still grated at Chris' approach, perversely having wanted to be able to argue that there were too many obstacles to overcome for him and Vin. But instead of baulking he accepted it gracefully, the rest of his lack the result of partial shock at being cut off so effectively and part knowing the truth when he heard it. It was so much easier for Chris to have known what he'd been about to point out as negating fact to what he and Vin 'had' and render it so much dust with one easy stroke.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chris stirred and stood.

"If you need to talk some more, you know where I'm at. Okay?" It wasn't a question - it was a kind demand.

Ezra nodded, green eyes warming as he smiled. "Yes, I know where you are. And I'll find you if need be."

A brow arched over hazel eyes and Ezra laughed. "Promise," he grinned.

Chris grunted then backed away. Just as he was about to open the door he twisted back to face Ezra. "You know, corny new-agey bullshit as this sounds… I think you should realize what you've been given here, how amazingly impossible it should be yet here it is, staring you in the face." He smiled wickedly. "You've always been smart enough to make good on opportunities that'll serve your best interests. No need to give up on that trend now."

Ezra laughed. It felt good because he meant it, felt better because Chris laughed with him. One more bob of the blond head then the man was gone, leaving Ezra to himself and his thoughts.

*******

Vin tossed another rock into the wide creek that meandered in switchbacks all across the ranch, watching the ripples as they cascaded. He sighed. Buck had come to him this afternoon, brimming with pleased good humor and compliments, saying how great it was to have found someone who meshed so neatly with the crazy lot here at Dueling C's, and that Buck was looking forward to Vin sticking around for a long time to come, that they were damn lucky Vin had answered the ad.

Good timing or bad on Buck's part, considering the perspective. Vin had been on the verge of packing up and leaving. The words and the feelings they brought out in him had him at least slowing down enough to stay another day and think matters through.

He told himself it'd be for the best if he left. Much as it hurt to admit it he was the outsider here, the one most expendable in the equation. He'd go before Ezra if the choice were left to Chris or the others, that he was sure of.

A little voice admonished that no one had asked him to leave. That Chris already liked and respected him. That being here was about as good as he'd ever found. And the hardest and most undeniable of all - Ezra was here.

Vin had been out of his mind thinking Ezra was hurt and dying while he'd been sat on by the feds. His state hadn't improved since then. Hopeless and empty days full of unanswered questions about Ezra's condition and whereabouts, dreaded nights filled with dreams of Ezra being shot, seeing that moment again and again, the terrors taking it further so that each time Ezra died, right there in his apartment.

He threw another rock and shivered. At least he knew what had happened now. The nightmares had stopped, but they weren't replaced with much better. Vin wasn't sure which was worse - the sickened sweat clinging to him when he'd gasp awake or the hard-on and frustration that followed his new dreams of Ezra.

Vin pushed the erotic intrusion aside. He was trying to think and daydreaming about Ez would get him nowhere.

He didn't want to leave. He liked his job, liked his small cabin and the group dinners and the group rapport that umbrellaed it all. Plain truth told him he wanted another chance with Ezra, despite everything. He wasn't sure if he was lying to himself with thinking the six months they'd fallen love hadn't been an act. Instinct told him Ezra had meant all the parts that were the most important, had shared all the most important parts for Vin to understand and mean back as well.

He closed his eyes. Was that enough?

The answer came in a rush, no hesitation. Only want and surety.

Yes.

A niggling thought poked at Vin and he sighed. He couldn't lie to himself and say he didn't want Ezra anymore, that there were no feelings inside of him for the green-eyed beauty. But while he was being so honest he also couldn't deny the betrayed part of him still lived, lurking, questioning Ezra's every motive and intention, pestering Vin to believe in nothing.

Vin tore his attention away from internal matters when his senses perked. He sat up straighter, eyes scanning for the disturbance. OM, the horse he'd taken to riding - OM for ornery mule but said teasingly like the mantra - had nickered. An answering chatter rode the breeze to Vin. He knit his brow, wondering who had come to find him, suddenly running his mental list of jobs, worried he'd forgotten one.

That momentary flash of discomfort was quickly eclipsed when Ezra appeared over the small rise that sheltered the creek, taking his breath and stilling his heart. Butter soft jeans hugged the man's legs, long sleeved, dark green shirt tucked in accentuating the deep eyes and slim waist. A distinctive hat was perched on the chestnut curls, sunglasses resting in the collar of the shirt.

Vin made to stand but a hand came forward, pushing into the air palm first. He nodded and subsided back into the scrubby grass. He was filled with a rush of questions, but had no idea which to choose to actually ask from the din rattling in his brain. So Vin kept quiet and waited.

Ezra settled himself and Vin watched, eyes filled with a greedy hunger he tried to hide. He started when a hand took his - not because he didn't long for the touch, more because he'd never expected to feel it again.

"I wasn't able to be completely honest with you before, Vin. So many things prevented what started between us to flourish into what I have come to believe it could be."

Ezra was staring at Vin's forehead, voice resolute and continuing without pause, the hand holding his tightening. It was clear Ezra truly meant what was being said, clear he was determined to get them out and be heard - even clearer how hard it was for Ez to say them.

"But we have the chance to be honest starting now…"

Vin couldn't prevent his scoff. It came from a multitude of sources. The lie he felt his life was now, the lies that had brought Ezra into his old life, the incredible desire he had to be with Ezra from here on out and never see it end... all filling him, terrifying him.

Green eyes blinked then shuttered. Vin cursed. He hadn't meant to stop the fragile, vital words. He pulled their hands onto his lap, using his other to caress across Ezra's pale knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he breathed softly, voice ragged and repentant, confused and hopeful.

It was an apology for everything. For hurting Ezra just now, for inadvertently hurting Ezra when he'd told their story to the feds, for the hurt inside them both after being torn apart.

Vin knew what Ezra was asking. He also felt he knew Ezra well enough to realize this wasn't a simple matter, that Ezra well appreciated how difficult their working to be together might prove to be. But he'd been sought out, had been gifted with understanding and forgiveness without his even asking, Ezra's hand literally held to his.

All he had to do was take what was being offered.

Vin swallowed and wondered. Was that enough?

Again the answer resounded, clear and confident.

Yes.

He knew there'd be complications. Knew there'd have to be a lot of truth and honesty between them to repair the betrayal harbored within them both. But Vin would be damned if he'd let Ezra go again, knew that he needed and wanted the other man completely. That he did know with a certainly above all else.

With an impulsiveness that surprised him he leaned forward, sifting his fingers through Ezra's hair, disturbing the black hat so it fell to the ground. Vin let his eyes close, his mouth parting open with a sigh. When his lips met Ezra's there was no resistance.

The hand in his convulsed and jerked away and for a moment Vin's heart stopped. Then that hand soothed over his chest and circled around him, drawing him into an embrace. Tongues danced and tasted, breathing sped until at last they needed more, and they pulled apart.

Vin sucked in oxygen but couldn't give up entirely. His open mouth roamed over Ezra's face, planting wet kisses and savoring the flavor of the silky skin. He traveled down until he found himself in the crook of Ezra's shoulder. He burrowed in close, breathing Ezra's scent, reveling in the contact. Vin tightened his arms and held on for dear life.

Ezra's voice murmured over him.

"I take this to mean you too are desirous of pursuing what we started in Dallas?"

The tones were husky and warm, but Vin didn't miss the tremor of uncertainty.

"Oh yeah," he whispered, the contentment that had absorbed him completely when he'd fallen asleep in Ezra's arms the night they'd made love flushing through him. It was a feeling he'd become hopelessly addicted to the one night he'd known it. It was familiar and wonderful yet like nothing else he'd known or had and he vowed never to lose it again.

Vin searched for and found one of Ezra's hands. He held it tight and drew away from his protective cradle. He smiled at Ezra, falling in love all over again when green eyes danced for him, the small, intimate smile that curled Ezra's face teasing him.

He resituated then scooted closer until their knees were touching, again reaching out to take Ezra's hands in his, to rest them in his lap.

Vin smiled, his doubts at rest, trusting his willingness and wants and Ezra to safely guide him.

"So," he began softly. "Name's Vin. Just Vin," he clarified. "What's yours?"

Ezra's face broke into a full grin and soon their words and questions tumbled out over one another's, laughter and kisses a foundation for their newly promised beginning.

*******

Chris snuggled closer into Buck's body. They sat on the porch swing, Buck's back against one arm, the two of them in a half recline along the seat, Chris nestled between long legs. He sighed softly, a sound of warm contentment.

Broad hands fanned in and out over his torso.

In the distance the sun was setting, filling the sky with a brilliant violence of color, oranges and magentas and purples that were becoming stained with the indigo of night.

Two silhouettes stood in shadowed relief against the vibrant sky. Men on horseback, returning to the ranch. Together.

They ambled at an easy pace, clearly in no hurry to arrive home - no hurry to have their time intruded upon.

JD was inside, rock music blasting as he sang off-key, twirling wooden spoons as he made a wreck of the kitchen. It was JD's night to cook dinner. The kid had flair and everything always tasted superb, but damn if he didn't use every dish in the house to get the job done.

Chris wrapped his hands around the tops of Buck's, drawing them up so he could kiss into each palm. He turned his head and nuzzled Buck's neck, purring against his lover.

"See?" Buck's wonderful, burred voice blended with the peaceful reverie instead of breaking it. "I told you we'd manage to get things worked out."

Chris chuckled indulgently and pressed kisses against Buck's neck. Before the man could puff out too far with their 'accomplishment' he snaked his tongue out to taste, teasing the whiskered column. The distraction worked to perfection.

Buck's hands surged up, one to cup behind his ear, the other tightening around his chest. Their lips met in a melting kiss, familiar and delicious and still with the same ardent fire as they'd sparked between each other when they'd been young and horny as hell.

Chris squirmed enough to get a more comfortable position and the kiss continued on. His own hands were busy now.

"Oh geez guys!" JD's voice cut them apart, but dark eyes were dancing, belying the snorted, put-upon words. "C'mon. I need someone to set the table."

"But what about Josiah?" Chris asked, his fingers still trailing longingly against Buck in feather touches.

JD shook his head and turned back into the house. "Josiah set the table last night," he said firmly, brooking no argument.

Buck laughed and sat up, jostling Chris so he nearly fell out of the swing. Strong arms caught him, a playful nip biting behind his ear when Buck pressed close and held him for a moment.

Chris knew JD would be back out for them if they lingered too long so he didn't give in to the desire to turn around. Instead he started walking, smoothing down Buck's arm until he came to the end and he grasped their hands together in a sure hold. The two trailed inside, resolutely ignoring the state of the kitchen as they started setting the table.