Gent accepted the second hand and met Buck's deep blue eyes. "You're a lucky man, Buck."

Wilmington nodded. Then he pulled Gent slightly closer to them and leaned over the top of Ezra's head to speak directly and quietly to Fisher. "Gent. Lose the gun and make sure it's clean when you do."

Gray eyes narrowed in sudden calculation, then agreement. "Thanks. Guess we're even then."

Buck shook his head in denial, "Never be that. You kept Ez safe, brought him back to me. I'll owe you into our next lifetimes."

Gent looked back down at the smaller man comfortably sandwiched between them. "I'll keep that in mind. And," a mischievous look crinkled the crows' feet at the corners of his eyes, "If you ever feel like sharing?"

Instantly, Buck's extended arm curled back possessively around Ezra's waist, joining the one already holding him across the chest.

Gent flashed a smile that was white teeth against a leathery tan. "Guess not." He reached out and touched one finger tip to the side of Ezra's face, tracing it down lightly, Ezra lifting his face up to that touch like a flower to the sun. "Take care of him, Buck. And, Ezra? You take care of Buck. Don't need you getting those crazy ideas again, bud."

Then Gent turned and, with a nod to Larabee, walked back toward his bike. He and Ty each mounted their machines in identical moves, the other men becoming more alert. Buck's arms still encircled Ezra, but a stiffness was now setting into Wilmington's healing shoulder and he moved with a tiny jerk, causing instant concern to flood Ezra's face. Together the two men turned away from the bikers, not looking back as they seemed to support each other, moving toward Jackson who now stood on the shoulder of the highway, his emergency medical bag having appeared in his hands at some point in the excitement.

Chris tossed his keys to Vin who caught them with a nod and trotted toward the driver's side of the king cab. Josiah was already climbing into the van, JD standing at the roadside looking uncertain. Like fireflies blinking on in a shadowy evening, the engines of the field of vehicles began to haphazardly ignite, the sounds of motors growing as more and more joined in. Vin gunned the Ram and swiftly brought it around and to the side of the road, neatly avoiding the small group of Nate, Buck and Ezra, slowly moving further to the side of the road. The white van backed and eased onto the other verge, and the road was clear.

JD stepped back to lean against the van's grill, eyes wide as he took in the cadre of bikers sitting up on their bikes, shades lowering into position, engines purring or grumbling. Josiah dropped out of the van and took up position beside their youngest agent. Larabee followed his truck to the side of the highway and stood there, foursquare, watching the bikers begin to move forward. The machines rolled slowly by the ATF vehicles, the riders looking neither left nor right, as they headed out toward the highway beyond. About 300 meters down the road, the sound rose abruptly and the bikes roared away, speed increasing to push them on their way. A speedy looking little roadster brought up the rear.

The remaining men stood or leaned in silence, the tableau broken abruptly by Nathan's curses as he began to argue strenuously with something Ezra had quietly said. Everyone grinned and headed for their long lost brother, JD trailing behind, still looking confused and slightly lost himself. He just didn't understand. Sure, they were all glad to have Ezra back and safe, but they knew from the tapes that he wasn't hurt too bad. Ezra's reaction to Buck had the youngest of the team looking worried. He liked Ezra, but he didn't want Buck to feel like he had to be something he wasn't, just because the other man seemed so needy all of a sudden. But Buck hadn't seemed the least bit uncomfortable with Ezra's overwhelming greeting. Seemed to even encourage it from what JD had been able to tell.

But, Buck was a ladies man, wasn't he? That was one of the certainties in JD's young life. He knew his friends and who and what they were. Things seemed to be changing now, and, he wasn't at all sure he liked it. Just wait and see. Probably, once Ezra gets calmed down, now the case is over, he'll start acting normal again and Buck will be able to get away from him, back to his ladies. And, JD would find Buck a special lady, like he'd planned, so he and Casey could start house hunting and not feel guilty with moving out on Buck. Yeah, just give it a little time. Feeling more settled, JD began to perk up and move closer to the reforming team.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Ezra, stay still. Let Nate see." Buck was fussing, holding onto Ezra's waist and trying to keep the man's body aligned for Jackson so the EMT could peel back the bandage on the small arm wound. But Ezra kept fidgeting, trying to twist so he could see Buck, his free hand digging back to fumble at Buck's jeans, hooking into a pocket, then with worried frustration, slipping out because of the awkward angle.

Nathan, who'd stood back in his own frustration after speaking sharply to Ezra to try to bring him out of his obvious shocky funk, watched the smaller man's behavior and suddenly realized what was wrong. "Here, Buck, turn him around toward you a bit." Big competent hands helped guide the two men so the Ezra was swung about enough to be facing Buck again. Instantly, he calmed down, his hand now sliding easily into Buck's front jean's pocket.

Buck's eyes sharpened as he, too, realized what had been the problem. "I'm sorry, Pard, wasn't thinking." Buck ran a large hand through the reddish brown hair and then held on to the bowed neck, bringing Ezra to rest against him. "Now just stand easy while Nate here checks you out, okay?"

A muttered, "Love you, Buck," was the only answer he got, but he figured he could work with that. He smiled, tears running unbidden down his cheeks as he kissed the top of Ezra's head. "Aw, Ez, I love you so much. Was so worried about you."

Jackson, with a stationary patient now, was able to quickly look under Ezra's dressing and see the competent job someone had done on the small wound, just a deep crease really. His knowing fingers assessed the relocated shoulder, noting a slight heat and swelling - that explained the strapping, keeping the arm tight against Ezra's chest and thus the shoulder immobile while it settled back into place.

Gently, Nathan ran a hand over Ezra's forehead. No temperature, but a slight chill. Shock. Not too bad and now that the emotions were stabilizing, he'd bounce back. Nate knew his patient, had seen him in much worse straits than this, but he was strong and always fought back. He'd be fine. Unless there was anything else? "Ezra?" Nate's hand slid down the side of the cool flesh and guided the face towards him. "Ezra?"

Huge green eyes opened and looked blankly at Jackson. "Ezra, can you tell me? Is there anything else I need to check out? Besides your shoulder and your arm?"

Standish didn't respond, but tried to pull away from the medic's hand and return to his resting place against Buck's chest. Buck eased his own hand under Nathan's and helped Ezra relax back against him. When Jackson looked up in surprise and the beginnings of anger, Buck shook his head minutely. "Nathan, Ezra got hurt real bad, a couple of days ago, our first day undercover." Jackson realized that Buck was talking in a very low voice that didn't carry. He edged closer, listening, eyes on the small man leaning against Buck's tall form. "Some of the bikers, they caught him and --" Buck swallowed and hugged the small man tightly, "--and they raped him." Buck's eyes met Nathan's over the top of the curly chestnut hair. Buck's hands were rubbing up and down Ezra's back now, but he didn't seem to be listening to the other men's conversation.

"How bad was it?" All business, Jackson would let himself feel and react later, now was for caring for a victim.

"No blood. He was in shock, depressed. Said he didn't really hurt, said Tony had done worse to him." Buck's sad commentary was not reassuring to Nathan who knew exactly how badly Borgo had treated Ezra over the past year. Buck added slowly, "I told Chris earlier." He released Ezra with one arm so that he could wipe his own face, but quickly returned the arm to its comforting position at a light whimper from Ezra. "He said we should probably do some blood tests."

Nathan hated to do it but there was no easy way, and from the looks of these two men, the sooner he said it, the better. "Buck, have you two had intercourse yet?"

Shocked blue eyes met understanding brown ones. "No. Nathan, I couldn't do that to him, not with everything else that was going on. No. We just cuddled some."

Nathan nodded his understanding. He could hear the other members of the team approach and laid one big hand on Ezra's good shoulder while keeping eye contact with Buck. "Then only Ezra will need testing. Unless we could get the ones who --" he hesitated, then continued ambiguously, "-- who did him, to submit to blood tests? You and Ezra seemed pretty tight with those guys."

"The ones who hurt Ezra are dead."

Jackson's fingers involuntarily tightened on Ezra's shoulder eliciting a grunt and sigh. Apologetically, Nate's hand turned from a grip to a petting contact. His eyes, though, took on a hopeful look as he continued to meet Buck's eyes. "Then we just got lucky, if we can find their bodies?"

Buck nodded slowly. "Figure they won't be hard to find, I know about where to look."

"Alright. I'll talk to Chris, then set it up with County General to do autopsies, soon as we find them." Both men sealed the deal with a steady look, broken only as first Vin, then Chris, Josiah, and finally, JD arrived to form a close circle around the threesome. Somehow, at that moment, instinctively, all four of the arriving men reached out to touch Ezra lightly, joining Nate's hand on the smaller man's good shoulder or back or even head, while Buck still held him securely. In silence, the seven renewed their connection.

<><><><><><><><><><>

The drive back toward Denver was a quiet one. Everyone had removed their radio mikes and earpieces except for Chris and Josiah, the two drivers. Buck, Ezra and Nathan were in the back of the team's van, where the two larger men were settling Ezra. Nathan, assured that Ezra was doing as well as could be expected at that moment, left them in the back and climbed into the cab with Josiah who shot him a look of inquiry.

In a low voice, Nathan answered the unspoken questions. "He'll be alright. The bikers told him that Buck was dead and he was blaming himself. Top that off with being wounded, dislocated shoulder, a beating that he really didn't need," at this point, Nate hesitated, then continued more slowly, "and, Josiah, he was raped, gang-banged, a couple of days ago --"

Sanchez's knuckles whitened as his grip on the steering wheel went from firm to strangling, the front wheels slewed to the side of the road and back, fish-tailing the van as he fought for control on the vehicle he had involuntarily braked. After a few moments of brief struggle and some filthy curses that had Jackson rolling his eyes as he braced on the dashboard, Josiah brought the van to a ragged stop. Ahead of them the black Ram had slowed, stopped and was now backing abruptly along the shoulder. In Josiah's ear, he could hear Chris' worried voice.

"Josiah! What's wrong?"

Sanchez lowered his head to the steering wheel and softly grunted, "No, no, no," in denial, ignoring the radioed question.

Larabee, who was the only one still linked with Sanchez, got the simple words over his radio link. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he savagely twisted the key in the Ram's ignition and dragged it free as the motor died. Vin was staring at him in mute question and JD hung over the front seats from the back, looking scared. "Chris? What's wrong?"

Jackson turned to look over his shoulder. Buck looked back at him from the floor of the van where he'd been settled with Ezra curled in his lap, still tightly clutching the big man's AFT jacket. Buck had heard what Jackson told Sanchez and understood what was going on. "Nathan, you'll probably have to tell the others too, but Ezra doesn't need to hear this. We'll just stay inside here."

The EMT grimaced sadly and nodded, turning forward to face the still hunched over Sanchez. "Josiah, let's get out. Take a little walk."

Abruptly, the profiler nodded and lurched out of his side of the van and on to the roadside, closing his door ever so gently, as if anything else would be a slam that would needlessly scare Ezra, still within the vehicle. Nathan slipped out on his side and joined Sanchez who was already moving back down the road, away from the van and the now stopped Ram beyond. With another violent movement, he tore the mike and earplug apparatus off and threw it to the ground. Ignoring it, he walked on, Nathan pacing him at his side, silent.

Chris got out of the truck and looked back, could see Josiah, then Nathan emerge from the van and start walking away. No urgency, just walking. He felt the radio link go dead as he saw Sanchez make an abrupt movement with his hands towards his head. Sighing, he removed his own, and pocketed them. Probably best to let Nathan handle the big profiler. They'd wait by the van, in case the former medic needed any help. Check on Buck and Ezra, too.

Vin's sharp blue eyes had followed all the unusual movements and gestures of his teammates. Something troublesome was going on, but there wasn't any immediate danger. If Josiah was upset, and it seemed he was, likely that Ezra was the reason. In the shape that he was, Vin doubted that Ezra himself had done anything so that meant something had been done to him. Vin began to feel sick.

JD had fallen silent when Chris did not answer his panicked question. Whatever was going on, everyone else seemed to know about it except him but he was afraid to push for answers, had a feeling that he really didn't want to know them. He trailed again behind the other men as they made their way to the abandoned van.

"What do you know, Nathan?" Josiah's voice was steady which surprised Jackson.

"Only what I told you. That and that the men who did it are dead. When I was checking over Ezra's wound, I asked what else I should check. That's when Buck told me."

"He told you THEN? Why not before?" Sanchez's eyes glowed dangerously as he turned to face his friend. "We could have been ready for him, if we'd known."

Jackson took a deep breath. He knew, they all knew, how Josiah had developed an unusually deep affection for their undercover agent. He suspected that Ezra somehow reminded the bigger man of a long lost soul that had once been in his keeping, whether son or nephew, or simply younger, dependent person. Josiah really didn't share his past. His paternal attitude towards the younger agent was merely tolerated by Ezra, and, for the most part, respected and left untouched by the rest of the team. But, they all knew, hurt Ezra and you might have to deal with Josiah, quietly, alone, later. So, now that protective streak was kicking in and Jackson needed to deflect it before Buck became its target. "Buck told Chris. But, Josiah, there really wasn't anything we could do until we got Ezra back. Now, we'll have him checked by doctors, get his blood tested." He looked at Sanchez, watching as the man seemed to subside back into himself, his rage quieting to a terrible and quiet anger. "Buck told me that the men that did it are dead, and he thinks we can find the bodies."

Sanchez closed his washed out blue eyes, muttering a heartfelt, "Dear god."

Nathan risked a comforting hand now on one large angular shoulder. "If we can have the bodies examined, tested, we'll know if Ezra is in any risk from disease."

"Risk?" Josiah, who'd been full of outrage and unchanneled anger, now sank into a well of fear as the implications of that statement penetrated. "Oh, sweet jesus, I didn't even think of that!"

Nathan dropped his hand and turned to face back toward the cars as Sanchez put both his hands on his face and shuddered. Back at the van, he could make out Chris and Vin leaning against the back doors, side by side, seemingly interested in the bright blue sky. JD paced beside the van, like a shaggy terrier, alert and worried, ready to defend his own but not sure what the threat was. Nathan let another small sigh find its way from his tight chest. Chris knew, that meant if Vin didn't, he would soon. That left JD. Somehow, he didn't think that Larabee had told the youngster, some things, not even the team leader would do. That meant he'd have to speak with their hacker. He wasn't at all sure how their youngest was going to take this new information. Right now he had to finish dealing with Josiah.

Turning back, he spoke directly to the quiet man in front of him. "Josiah? It wasn't Ezra's fault, such things never are. He was the victim."

Sanchez interrupted him bitterly. "Did you think I blamed him?"

"No, no," Jackson stepped daringly closer, meeting those pale blue eyes with his deeply compassionate brown ones. "But you need to think. You need to think and not simply react emotionally, even if that is what has to come first. Ezra is going to need all of us and he is going to need to know that he is still very much a part of us, and not in any way condemned."

"But Nathan, we would never do that."

At least Josiah was thinking now, reasoning. Nathan actually smiled. "Good. That will help with the healing. Now, we are going to have to locate the scum who did this, dig up their bodies and get them to a Medical Examiner for testing. If they have any dirty germs, Ezra has a tough road ahead, so Josiah, start praying."

It was as if Nathan had given the older man a new chance at life at that moment. He now had a new goal and a reason, a way to help his son of the heart, a way to be there for the boy. Josiah straightened and began to shed his passion for purpose.

Cautiously, because it might be better to do it all now rather than go through this twice, Nathan spoke. "There's something else."

Sanchez, who'd begun to reconstruct himself mentally and emotionally, froze and faced his long time friend. With dread in his voice, he responded with an effort. "What?"

"Buck. Buck and Ezra." Nathan began to wonder if he was paid enough for this job. No, of course not, but that really wasn't the issue here. He wasn't doing his job right now, he was being a friend, helping his friends. You just did that, no matter how hard. That was what friendship was about. Bracing himself for any possible reaction to his next bit of news, he watched closely as he continued. "They are a couple now. Like Chris and Vin. Happened while they were under." There might be more to say, but first he'd wait for Josiah.

Sanchez absorbed this new information and realized it didn't surprise him in the least, it seemed quite natural somehow. It didn't disturb him either. He'd seen that reunion, they all had. Ezra had literally flung himself into Wilmington's arms and the tall man had been accepting and protective, caring and gentle. Loving. And, before they had found Ezra, Buck had been a crazy man, wild even, totally unlike himself. The ladies man had fallen for their con man. Josiah searched himself for how he felt about that. He discovered that he was actually pleased for both men, for the wandering, searching soul that was brother Buck and the lost, hurting soul that was Ezra. Those souls would heal each other. Two sweet-natured men, though Ezra tried to hide his nature, they would do well. Josiah felt the rightness of it and actually smiled. "Good." He expanded his ribs as he inhaled deeply, stretching and letting his smile grow. They would face this adversity and triumph over it, good men all.

Nathan, relieved and vaguely surprised at how well Josiah took this second revelation, patted his friend on the shoulder and headed back toward the van, checking to see that Josiah was indeed following. The big man was right behind him, looking settled now and determined. Now, Nathan thought with rising despair, he'd probably have to deal with JD.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

"Ez?" Buck concentrated on cradling the smaller man against him, secure in his lap as he sat in the floor of the team van, in the back. With his legs straight out in front of him and his shoulders supported by the wall separator between the weapons lockdown in the back and the surveillance equipment and chairs in the mid-body of the van, he was able to relax his body, and give all his attention to his friend.

At first, he got no answer and had about decided that Ezra was still in his shocked state, on finding Buck still alive and relatively unscathed. But then the southerner heaved a sigh that seemed to go through his entire body and leak out his fingers and toes. Nudging Ezra's head with his chin, not quite daring to release his arms from their positions offering safety and comfort, he murmured again, "Ez?"

This time Ezra responded, pulling back a bit to look up into Buck's eyes. "I'm sorry." The quiet words were apologetic in tone as well. He let go of his tight hold on Buck's tee shirt, stars of wrinkles left behind, radiating from where two desperate hands had clutched and twisted the fabric. He smiled tentatively up at Buck, "They told me you were dead. Buck, I just didn't want to live after that. If Gent hadn't forced me to come with them, I would have --"

Buck listened with growing alarm, his eyes darkening to nearly black with his fear as his friend left unsaid what so clearly could be read, that he had intended to kill himself. Buck swallowed and leaned down to capture trembling lips. Kissing softly, sweetly, tenderly, then releasing to nip and lick at those moist, small sensitive bits of flesh. "I'm here," he whispered between the tiny kisses he was now raining down on Ezra's upturned face, "I'm here. I'm fine. We're together again, Ez. Thank god that Gent had enough sense to keep you safe."

Ezra began to respond to the loving touches, his spirit rising, the dread and grief dissolving in this rare peace that Buck graced his soul with. "You meant it, didn't you?" Ezra couldn't help himself, he needed reassurance that Buck really did mean what he'd said back in that little cabin such a short time ago.

For a moment, Buck was confused, then seeing the hope and fear both vying for supremacy in those green, green eyes, he understood. "Oh, Ezra, I love you. Don't know exactly how everything changed, still can't explain it. But, when I found out you were missing, it was like a part of me died. I was so scared and so angry." He tugged the smaller man up higher in his lap, enjoying the feel of Ezra so close. He brought his lips to Ezra's once more, and as those sweet gates opened, he continued to speak, his words dropping into Ezra's mouth, like pearls off a string. "I - love - you - Ezra. Forever. Darling - I - love - you." Then he let his tongue trail inside as if to secure those words deep within Ezra, make sure he felt them as well as heard them.

A greedy mouth twisted and chewed at Buck's. Ezra's hands came up to clasp Buck's neck and hold him close. They consumed each other for several heartbeats, each taking comfort in the other's passionate touch and the firm words Buck spoke declaring his feelings clearly.

Ezra finally found his own voice as he licked his way along Buck's jaw and back toward one ear. "Buck, I love you. With everything that I am."

"Guess we got ourselves a commitment, then, huh, Ez?"

"Yes, so it seems." The last was said with breathless humor as Ezra rose up, somehow curling his legs so that he sat up on his knees in Buck's lap and was able to pull the taller man's dark head against his breast. "Buck, sweet, loving Bucklin, how did we miss each other for so long?"

Buck savored Ezra's possessive embrace, half-buried against the other's chest, taut, strong arms holding him close, one firm hand supporting his head, fingers playing in his dark wings of hair. He carefully supported Ezra against him, his arms holding the southerner behind the now upright thighs and the lean, sweetly curved spine. "Don't know, Ez, but I'm glad we found each other now. Got a lot of lost time to make up for."

Ezra nodded where his head rested on the top of Buck's, then he tucked his chin and placed a kiss in the silky soft nearly black hair. "But we'll do it carefully, until Nathan finds out if it's safe for us."

Buck stiffened. "You heard all that?"

Ezra smiled and sat back down, letting Buck's head slide up his chest until they were once again facing each other. "I may have been showing a regrettable lack of self control lately, and," he blushed a rose pink from his neck up until the roots of his hairline were flushed as well, "-- and, I may have become a trifle hysterical at the sight of your living body --"

An amused and loving snort from Wilmington had Ezra chuckling at himself. "But," he finished, "that did not mean that I was unaware of what transpired about me." He met Buck's eyes tranquilly. "I just chose to give in to my baser needs, to wallow in the joy of finding you alive, of being once more in your arms, able to touch you." With these final words, he kissed Buck again and drew back before the other could do more than begin to respond. "I've been gay all my cognizant life, Buck. I know the risks. I've had friends die of AIDS. I'm sorry, love, but it has always been a fact of my life."

"We're gonna change that Ezra." Buck cuddled the man closer, then helped him sit back down on his lap, guiding the folded legs out from under a dear derriere that he fully intended to explore in the near future, Nathan's tests be damned.

"Buck." Ezra's face became serious. "I will NOT risk you."

Buck saw the sincerity in those deep green eyes and knew that Ezra needed to understand that he, too, took all this seriously. "Don't worry, Pard, we'll take it slow, when you're ready, not before. This sweet loving we're doing now is just up my alley. Can do this forever and be a happy feller." He stole a kiss from worried tight lips. "It's gonna be fine, Pard. Honest. If Nate finds anything to worry about, then we'll deal with it together, but you aren't ever gonna be alone again, Ezra. It's us now, no more 'me' or 'you.'"

Ezra sat there on Buck's lap, studying Wilmington's face as if searching for answers. Finally, he nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Wilmington, you are a true friend."

"More than a friend now, Ez."

"Yes, much more, Buck. Much more." Ezra's eyes were beginning to fill again and Buck simply pulled him close again, kissing away the tears and rocking them slightly together.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Tony snapped shut his monocular with a vicious anger. Shit. He'd missed at the barn, that damn biker had spotted something, turned the bike he and Standish were on at the last moment. Then all the rest of those crud had started towards his tree. He'd had to make a hasty retreat, finding his stolen dirt bike disabled when he circled round and got to it. Someone, maybe two someones by the looks of the tracks, had found it and removed the sparkplugs. So he'd jogged along the bridle path back out to the treeline at the edge of the wooded hills. From there he could watch the road and had seen the tail end of the face off between the bikers and Team 7. He'd seen Ezra in Buck's arms. The anger that had grown larger inside, now veiled his eyes with a film of red as he snorted and spat. So Ezra thought he could dump Tony for Wilmington? He thought irrationally, all memories of doing the dumping himself having vanished along with whatever morals or controls he'd once had. He'd gone beyond normal thought. His nerves hissed and popped in his veins, making him feel like a hop-head on drugs, even though he'd not taken a thing. Maybe he should.

He watched as the bikers mounted, as Tanner and Sanchez moved the ATF vehicles, as the wing of bikers departed. He stared hatefully at Buck holding Ezra, while Jackson looked him over. He looked on as the rest of the team assembled around the two.

He saw them depart only to stop about a half-mile down the road, Sanchez and Jackson erupting from the van, the others from the truck, only Buck and Ezra still hidden within the van. He could tell that something was going on, but not what. His gaze traveled resentfully among the visible team members. Settled on the clearly distraught youngest, the computer specialist, Dunne. Wasn't he roomies with Wilmington? Best friends? Borgo smiled slowly, lecherously. He opened back up his spyglass and focused on the young man, standing there impatiently, sweeping dark hair from his eyes and tucking it behind his ears. Not too bad looking. Wonder if he's jealous, now that Buck has a new toy? Borgo's dark, maddened eye remained fixed on Team 7's youngest as the boy began to pace beside Larabee's black truck. Might be more than one way to get to Ezra. Might do it through his new lover. His new lover's friend. Boy toy. Borgo's teeth bared in a hungry grin.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

"JD?" Nathan ignored Chris and Vin and walked up to the younger man, to stand blocking his path beside the big Ram.

Josiah wandered over to where the team leader and sharpshooter stood. He eyed his good friend on a mission, confronting their computer specialist, before leaning against the nearest fender of the truck. Together with Vin and Chris, he watched Nathan turn away from them and begin walking JD back toward the van. The two walked together quietly, the big man and their youngest side by side.

Sanchez raised an eyebrow at Chris. "Have you told Vin yet?" Tanner stiffened slightly. Looked sharply at Larabee, then Sanchez. "Nope, can see you haven't." He ran a large hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. Looked their immediate boss in the eye and spoke again. "Nathan just told me about Buck and Ezra being together now, though that wasn't really such a surprise, after seeing how they acted when they saw each other." He chuckled and looked down, away from those angry burning hazel eyes. Why was Chris so angry? Looking back up at the blonde, he asked, "Have you told Vin yet about what happened to Ezra?"

Tanner was losing patience with this weird game. "Josiah, what ever the hell this is, just say it! I'm standing right here."

"So you are. Just thought maybe Chris might want to tell you, seeing as how he knew from Buck before Nate did, and Nate's the one just told me."

Larabee jerked a cigarillo from his shirt pocket and jammed it between his teeth, eyes moving to the white van only meters away, staring blankly at it. He savagely lit a match and puffed angrily at his smoke. Between clenched teeth he finally answered Sanchez. "You want to talk? Talk."

Sanchez nodded sadly. "No, don't want to, but it is best if the whole team knows. Better for Ezra, easier on Buck." He stood and folded his arms over his chest, looking across the tall hood of the truck at their sharpshooter. "Ezra was raped by several men, when he went back under with Buck, their first day under. Buck was not there to stop it."

"Shit." Vin's low curse was all he could manage, the sick feeling he'd felt earlier coming back with a vengeance. He tried to straighten, but the sickness rose in his throat. Chris had turned to watch the two men and saw his lover's color turn greenish and pale.

"Vin!" With a grunt, Chris was there just in time to catch the falling man and support him as he lost his breakfast on the gravel at the side of the road. "Josiah," Chris looked over his shoulder, spitting out his words, "get me the bottle of water on the front seat."

Sanchez hurried to comply, bringing it and offering his own handkerchief to Larabee quickly. Chris was holding Vin upright now and accepted first the bit of linen, wiping the lean, smaller man's face, then the bottle which he offered Vin. Tanner shakily grabbed the bottle with both hands and sipped slowly, blinking away sudden tears. "Shit, shit, shit." His mumble was caustic and barely intelligible.

Chris simply turned him into his arms and held him close, not saying anything. Vin relaxed in his lover's arms and handed the bottle back to Josiah hooking around Chris' body. Sanchez took back the bottle with a sad grimace and waited.

"Sorry," Vin finally muttered, stepping back out of Larabee's embrace. "It was the shock, that's all." He looked toward the van, following Chris' gaze. The man's eyes kept returning there as if tracked by a magnet. "How's Ezra?"

Sanchez leaned back against the truck again. "Nathan is going to get him checked out at the hospital, but doesn't think there's any immediate concern." He paused, then dropped the other shoe. "The problem is more likely if any of the attackers was carrying anything."

"Carrying?"

"Disease."

"Oh, shit." Vin spun and punched the grill of the truck, only to step back with a cry of pain and shake his errant hand. Chris materialized back at his side instantly. "I'm okay, didn't hit that hard." He tried to reassure Larabee who already had the bruised hand in his own and was gently inspecting it. Agreeing silently that the hand would bruise but was not broken, Chris patted Vin and turned back again to face the van.

"Nathan have a plan?" Speaking in a low growl, it was the first real contribution Larabee made to the conversation.

Sanchez nodded. "Yeah. Seems Buck thinks he knows where the bodies are buried."

"Bodies?"

"Seems the perpetrators are no longer living."

"Good." Chris flexed his hands, fisting and unfisting them. He stayed by Vin, but his mind was on his other friends within that white van. "Then we dig them up, get them tested."

"Yeah, that's Nathan's plan."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"JD, you remember that talk we had at the saloon the other night? About human sexuality?"

Dunne looked sharply at Nathan. He'd come along with the man, when Jackson asked if they could talk for a few minutes. Now he wasn't at all sure he wanted to hear this. "Yes."

"Buck and --"

JD jumped backwards and clamped his hands on his ears, shaking his head violently. "NO! Nathan, no!"

Two large dark hands captured the boy's and lowered them, holding the wrists to keep the young man facing him. "JD, they are your friends. Remember, you said we were all nuts? Remember?" Dunne nodded but stared at the ground between their feet. "JD. Ezra and Buck love each other." He paused and held on when Dunne tried to fight free, a brief struggle since neither man really wanted to hurt the other, and Dunne already knew in his heart that his denial was pointless, useless, hopeless.

"Don't know how it went down, but there it is." Nathan paused again, then continued slowly. "I listened to them. Saw them up close. This isn't Buck bein' king of the hill, nor his animal 'magnetism' at work. This is real and it's them, and, they are our friends, JD. Buck is your best friend and he'll need you something terrible now. Because, JD, Ezra was hurt badly."

For the first time, Dunne looked up, his own brown eyes meeting Jackson's. "Ezra was hurt? We all saw that. His arm --" But even as he spoke, he saw Jackson shaking his head gently and knew it was something much worse. He quaked. "What?"

"Raped." Jackson spoke bluntly, no euphemisms for JD, the boy needed to hear hard truths, so he could rebuild his world on those truths. "Gang bang."

"Oh, no."

Jackson nodded seeing the honest pain in the youth's eyes, pain for a friend. "He wasn't hurt too bad physically, at least not yet."

"Not yet? But --" Then JD's eyes widened in sudden awareness. "Shit. AIDS."

Nathan nodded again. "We're going to have to find the ones who did it, Buck tells me they're dead, dig them up, have their bodies examined. If they're negative, then we go from there. If even one of them tests HIV positive, then -- then we go from there."

"Oh, Ez." JD seemed to fold into himself, his arms wrapping around his narrow chest. "Oh, Buck." The sorrowful tone told Nathan that JD was past the anger and denial of Buck's new alignment and was now focused on the possible tragedy still awaiting Team 7.

"Come on, JD, let's get back to the others. I told Josiah, and he's talking it over with Chris and Vin while we talked." Putting a brotherly arm over Dunne's shoulders, the older man steered them back towards the truck and van and their waiting friends.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The two-vehicle caravan headed back into the city. The first stop for them was the medical center where Ezra was quickly and thoroughly examined, much to his disgust. Blood samples and urine specimens followed. Then the southerner was escorted back out to the waiting room where his friends all sat. Waiting. Buck was on his feet and at Ezra's side the moment he stepped through the double doors. The doctor accompanying Ezra eyed the team. "You are all part of Mr. Standish's ATF unit?"

Larabee came forward. "Yes, I'm Chris Larabee, team leader."

"Well, Mr. Standish said any news I had to tell should be said to you all. So, if you'd all like to sit down again?" The doctor led them to a corner of the empty room and sat. The others quickly joined him, Buck leading Ezra to a double bench seat.

Once he saw he had their attention, the doctor continued. "My name is Larson Crane. I examined Mr. Standish thoroughly. Whoever treated his shoulder dislocation did a fine job. He should keep it braced for another 48 hours, but then, if he's careful, it should be fine. The wound is little better than a scrape, a crease about a half inch deep, only about three inches long. It was fixed with butterfly bandages and seems to be already healing. I don't see the need for stitches." By now his audience was getting restless, nervous. He knew why. "As to the nonconsensual sexual intrusions, the rapes, the area of the anus is bruised, but not torn nor damaged. There are no tears anywhere outside or inside, and no blood. Because of the time since the attack, it was not possible to retrieve any semen specimens. I understand from Mr. Standish that testing of the attackers will be conducted. This will certainly save time and give you knowledge of just what must be faced, if anything." He carefully looked from face to face. All the men were watching Standish even as they listened to Crane. He could tell by the caring and concern in their faces, their eyes, even their body language, that these men would not walk away from their friend. Lucky man. "There is nothing more I can do at this time. When the test results from Mr. Standish's samples come in, I'll contact you. Until then, he can go home."

Crane stood. No one asked anything. He had a feeling they already knew everything he was going to say before he said it. Rather an anticlimax, he shrugged, better reception than some he'd had to face. He nodded collectively to the group and went back into the innards of the hospital, back to his own never-ending battles for life.

Chris spoke first. "No surprises. Nathan, you take Ezra home and stay with him until Buck can join him." Before Buck or Ezra could speak, he continued, "Buck, you're going to lead us to the bodies. Once you ID them, you can go to Ezra. Send Nate out to us and he'll supervise recovery and delivery to the Medical Examiner's office."

Reluctantly Buck had to agree. He looked down at Ezra who met his eyes reassuringly. The time alone with the doctor had calmed him, let him put his poker face back on. He wore it now. "I'll be fine. Nathan will be there with me."

Vin spoke up for the first time since he'd been told about Ezra's rape. "Tony. Tony Borgo." He looked around at the others grimly. "You're all forgettin' that ape."

Larabee shook his head. "No, Vin, we haven't forgotten him, just put him a bit lower in priority. But, you're right. He seems to have gone rabid. Josiah, why don't you keep Nate and Ez company? An extra set of eyes won't hurt. And, Nate? Make sure Ezra sets the alarms in that fancy apartment of his. We'll call when we're heading in." He looked around at the others. "Okay, we got a plan. Let's do it."

Ezra felt Buck's arms squeeze him tight from behind. He leaned back for a moment, gathering strength from the love in those supports. "Be careful, Buck," he murmured, turning to look up into those midnight blue eyes.

"Always, Ez." Buck ignored the rest of the team and kissed Ezra gently. "Love you, Ezra. You listen to Nate, do what he says. 'Siah, too. And I'll be back with you in no time at all."

"I'll be waiting." Ezra stood up on tiptoes and returned the kiss, then looked back over to smile at his teammates. "As Mr. Larabee said, 'Let's go.'"

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Ezra pretended to sleep. It was easier than trying to fend off the ever solicitous Mr. Jackson or the hovering Mr. Sanchez. They had been in his apartment for over three hours now. He could not imagine what the delay was but he was beginning to fight off worry now. For the past half hour, his two guardian angels had left him alone. If he showed signs of wakefulness, no doubt they'd be in, inquiring pointlessly about his health, their concern and care smothering him unintentionally.

It amazed Ezra that after all this time with these men that they knew him so poorly still. Oh, they claimed to know him, and in fact, could predict his reactions to a given set of circumstances, but that was largely because that was the image he'd created. He had begun to finally let them in a bit, to the real E.P. Standish but it was a rather scary thing to do and he only revealed tiny harmless bits, waiting to see if these vulnerable points would be trampled as history had taught him would be the case. To his amazement, the others had not done that. Instead, they had given more of themselves in return and deepened the growing bonds of friendship with their ne'er-do-well agent. Ezra was astounded, truly dumbfounded at the acceptance that he'd been graced with when Buck and Chris had practically dragged him out of the closet, back in Chris' office that day. To declare that you are gay is often to say good-bye to friends, even relatives. But these men had accepted this 'him' and even shown their affection and friendship with touch and words.

But now he'd trespassed. He had gone after one of them. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and tensed. He knew that Buck had been open with everyone, and certainly his own behavior upon discovering that Buck was in fact alive after believing him to be dead, well, that was rather revealing. But still. He knew that Nathan knew. Buck had told the man while still clutching Ezra, right out there on the road. He wasn't so sure about anyone else. He was afraid that when they found out, all that friendship would freeze and crack, fall away like dust. He desperately wanted to keep them all his dear friends, but he could NOT give up Bucklin Wilmington, not now. Nor, did he think, would Buck give him up. This might create a rift in the team, an irreparable one. He let his head drop to the side on the pillow. A single tear trickled down his cheek, unknowingly.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Josiah and Nathan shared some of Ezra's imported coffee, from beans they'd had to grind, having discovered both beans and grinder. It was a nice change from the office break room coffee. They'd both said all there was to say some time ago, so sat in companionable silence.

The tapping at the front door had them springing to their feet, hands going to weapons in underarm holsters. An exchange of looks had Nathan heading down the hall to Ezra's room while Josiah headed for the front door cautiously. Peering through the peephole, he was reassured to see JD standing impatiently on the stoop. Within moments he'd disarmed the alarm, removed the bolts and opened the door. "JD, why are you here?"

Dunne looked a bit disgruntled. "Chris sent me. Said I didn't need to see them dig up those bodies." He ran a hand through his hair, sweat making it stringy.

Josiah, who could easily understand such reasoning, calmly led the boy inside, silently concluding that the bodies had in fact been found and the distasteful job of identifying them was now in Buck Wilmington's hands. He knew the rangy surveillance and weapons expert would not fail and would also be protective of his younger protege and little brother, it had probably been he who got Larabee to issue that order. "Come in, then. You can tell us what has happened so far."

JD shrugged unhappily and wandered on into the townhouse, toward the kitchen, while Josiah secured the door and alarm once more. He took a look at the street before closing up, seeing JD's fast motorbike sitting at the curb. He didn't have that with him, they must have gotten him a ride as far as his and Buck's place. Josiah finished locking up and followed the young man into the kitchen. Nathan was already back, having heard enough from the hallway to relax his guard and return to his coffee.

Ezra sat up and swung his legs off the bed, stood up only to cling to the nightstand, swaying dangerously at the lightheadedness. He knew it was just fatigue, sleeplessness and lack of food, but it scared him nonetheless. He definitely did not like feeling helpless.

After a moment, things settled and he was able to release his grasp on the furniture. Walking with care, he slowly made his way around the bed and to the door. The low murmur of voices, JD's rising above the rumble of Nathan and Josiah, alerted him to the presence of another member of the team. Buck? Maybe Buck was back? But no, he'd come see me right away. Wouldn't he? Ezra sighed. He would. I have got to stop questioning the man. He's an open book and he's signed my name on all the pages, for everyone to see, including me. But it's hard to change one's nature, and mine is to question motives, to be always suspicious. To trust only with difficulty. Ezra sighed again. I have my work cut out for me, if I am to be worthy of Buck's love.

By now he was in the hallway and nearly to the corner where it opened into the main room and adjacent kitchen. The voices were suddenly clear as JD's rose in irritation. "I know what you said, Nathan, but I still can't believe it."

Soft voices answered unintelligibly.

"No. No, Buck likes Ezra. So do I, damn it! Hell, I don't care if he's a flaming fag! He's still my friend. But Buck only likes ladies. ONLY LADIES!"

Ezra cringed. More words in that softer rumble that Ezra identified as Josiah's. The man would try to reason with a charging bull elephant, convinced he could deter the brute. Only, he was arguing with JD who sounded like a runaway train. Good luck, Josiah.

JD again. "You wait! Buck's just confused, he wants to help. He'll do anything for any of us. We're all family. He just wants to give Ezra what he thinks the man needs. That's all there is to it!"

Silence. Ezra fell back against the wall of the hallway, his shoulder blades aching from the sudden pressure on the points as he collided with wallboard. He felt a tremendous pain inside, filling the hollow of his chest. A great burning feeling, heating his skin, causing him to burn, his cheeks flaming with the internal upheaval caused by the youth's aggressive defense of the man Ezra thought loved him. JD should know. They've been best friends forever since I've known them. Why should Buck suddenly abandon his ladies for the likes of me? JD must be right. A flaming fag. Ezra paled. Felt his knees start to wobble. Then he was sinking, sliding down the wall, to land hard, his buttocks tight against the angle of floor and wall, his knees pressed against his chest. He let his arms fall where they might and rested his head on his knees. He'd never let the words hurt before, or, at least, not for a very long time. Not since he was a teen. But, hearing them now, from the lips of a colleague, a friend, he was crushed. Pulverized. Dust. Too dry to even cry, too empty to even feel. An abandoned building, no one home anymore. He rolled his head and wondered what could possibly happen next.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The two older men watched as JD stormed out on to Ezra's back patio, fuming. Nothing they'd said had penetrated the younger man's obstinacy. He was hurting from being sent away from where he'd thought he could help, offer support to Buck. Sent away, sent to help care for someone who was now Buck's lover, or so he was being told by others. Buck had yet to say anything to him and so he chose to deny it. Too much was happening, everyone was worried, confused, emotional. Even him.

Josiah looked sadly at Nathan over their mugs of coffee. The one that had held JD's lay on its side, a pool of spilt brown liquid mute testimony to the boy's final violent gesture. "Looks like your little talk with JD didn't do as much good as you thought."

Jackson got up slowly, feeling like an old man. He took up the sponge from the sink and mopped up the mess on the table, taking his time before answering. "No, guess it didn't." He picked up the mug and placed it in the sink with the sponge. Used a dishtowel to dry the surface of the table. "He's gonna go on denying that until Buck sits him down for a serious talk, even then, it's gonna take time. Just hope he comes around. I'd hate to have the team fall apart over this."

Both men looked up at another rap at the front door, firmer and more aggressive. This time, they both approached the door, knowing JD was behind them somewhere and could step in to protect Ezra if need be. It was Buck, looking ravaged. He sagged against the doorjamb. Together the two men made quick work of unlocking and opening the door, pulling Buck inside and securing the entry again.

"JD made it alright, I see." Buck's comment seemed at odds with his look of fatigue.

"Yes, he's here." Josiah decided that more could wait for later. "You found the bodies, he told us."

"Yeah. Looked mighty ugly for being in the ground for a few days, but it was them alright. All three of them, hell I only ever even knew the name of one of them," Buck wiped the back of his dirt smeared hand across his mouth. "but it was them, knew 'em right off. Chris and Vin are waiting there now for the meat wagon. You want to head out, Nate? They are 'spectin' you to be there soon's you can."

Nathan was already gathering his things from the hallway coat rack and taking the Ram's keys from Buck. "Josiah?" There was a wealth of unspoken question in that single word.

"I'll take care of everyone, Brother Nathan, never fear." Sanchez smiled reassuringly, they needed their EMT to be on his way without distraction, even though both knew that things might not go well now in this small townhouse. Forces beyond their control might soon collide.

Nathan's lips compressed but he nodded and gave the men the team's two-fingered salute, and left through the barricade of the front door. Josiah busied himself re-securing once more the door. Buck looked around, then headed further into the house. Over his shoulder he asked, "Ez in his room?"

"Yes, brother, been there for a while, sleeping last we checked about a half hour ago." Sanchez followed Wilmington into the kitchen. He wondered if a prayer might help at this moment. "JD is out on the back patio, getting some air."

Buck seemed oblivious to the heavy meaning in that last statement, anxious to get back to Ezra. He knew the southerner was still shaken and would need a lot of time as well as care to return to their own witty con man. His own. He smiled and took a sip of Nathan's abandoned coffee. "Just let me check on him." And Buck was already heading out through the opening between kitchen and living room, toward the hall that led to the bedrooms.

"Oh, my god! Ezra!" Buck's surprised and panicked cry had Sanchez practically running after him.

He found Buck on the floor in the hall, on his knees, facing a collapsed Ezra. The undercover agent was curled up in a ball against the wall, head hidden against his knees. Sanchez closed his eyes in pain, knowing instantly what had happened. He heard us.

"Ezra?" Buck was gently petting the man, touching him and stroking him, coaxing a response. "Please, Ez, it's Buck. I'm here. Answer me, look at me at least, please?"

Finally, a chalk white face rose to stare blankly straight ahead. "Fag."

"Ezra? What?" Buck was totally confused. Josiah was heartbroken for them all.

"A flaming fag." Ezra enunciated the words carefully, as if crossing a raging river on tiny, slippery stepping stones.

Buck huddled closer and forced his hands behind the other man, prying him free from the wall and pulling him into a tight embrace. "Ezra, what the hell are you talking about?"

Finally Ezra seemed to snap out of his daze and looked up at Buck. "Buck." He whispered the name as if it was precious treasure. With one finger, he touched Wilmington's cheek and then withdrew. "I'm so sorry."

Frustrated and fearful of this new strange behavior, Buck wanted to explode, but he could see that would only harm the southerner even more. "Ezra, please, you're scaring me here." He kissed the man gently on the lips. "You haven't got anything to be sorry for."

"I'm so sorry, Buck. I promise, I'll leave as soon as I can." He seemed unwilling to answer Wilmington, intent on conveying his hard-fought decision to flee Denver, his job, his friends, and his new love.

"No! Ezra, you are NOT going anywhere, unless you plan on taking me with you. You hear me, Ezra P.?" Buck gave up on pleading and began to bluster, hoping to break through the man's frozen attitude.

Eyes filled with shame rose to meet Buck's. The green was almost white with pain and humiliation. "A flaming fag." The litany seemed endless and Buck was getting desperate.

A big hand on his shoulder had him twisting to look up into Josiah's sad blue eyes. "Brother, we need JD, I'll get him."

Sanchez walked away, leaving Buck still trying to coax some sense out of Standish. The pain radiating off the pair was piercing his own heart, and he knew that what he was about to do would only spread the pain further. But, sometimes the only way to treat a wound was to cauterize. To burn it out. In this case, bring the cause in and let the men confront the essence of the problem, and hope, oh god be merciful, hope that they would be able to burn out the problem but leave enough behind to heal them all.

Gritting his teeth in anger at the thoughtlessness of youth, Josiah slid open the patio door hard, so that the panes of glass rattled, startling the young man slumped in a chair on the miniscule little terrace. "JD," Josiah's tone was sharp, flat. "JD, come in and see Buck. He's back."

Instantly, Dunne was on his feet, a grin fading as he took in the sight of Josiah Sanchez standing in the entrance, towering there like some biblical prophet. He half expected the man to throw a bolt of lightning at his feet. "Josiah?"

"Listen to me John Dunne." Sanchez spoke firmly. "When you go in there, you think carefully of each word that leaves your mouth. Just remember this, once out, they can never be retracted."

Dunne nodded hesitantly, only half certain he knew what the older man was speaking about. At least Buck was back. That would help straighten things out. He squared his shoulders almost defiantly and marched towards the man still blocking the doorway. Just before his nose would have rammed Josiah's chest, the big man swung aside grimly, looking as if he already regretted asking for JD's presence.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"In the hallway," Josiah directed from behind JD's back. Grimly, he followed the defiant youth into the townhouse, hoping he was doing the right thing in forcing this now. But Ezra was hurting and Buck was ignorant of the cause. And now, the cause was heading back there to confront them, if he only knew.

Both men came to a halt at the sight of the two on the floor. Buck was still frantically petting Ezra who had roused himself enough by now to push the bigger man away, or at least try to. The resultant struggle had gotten Buck off his knees and seated on the floor, back to the wall, and wrestling with the southerner who seemed convinced he had to apologize for something, then leave forever. "Ezra, will you for chrissakes stop and listen to me?" Buck took a new hold on the squirming man and finally dragged Ezra into his lap. Wrapping his arms around the smaller man, he sighed when Ezra stopped fighting him and melted back into him, sagging against him.

"I'm sorry, Buck."

"Dammit, Ez, you got nothing to be sorry for!" Kicking himself for letting his anger leak into his voice, he softened it and continued, hoping that Ezra was finally really listening. "Baby, whatever it was, we'll make it better, honest."

My cue, thought Josiah, who hunkered down in front of the pair, ignoring JD who stood frozen in front of them, frowning. Josiah reached out a hand to cup Ezra's face. "Take it easy, brother, we'll get this solved now." He looked up into Wilmington's face regretfully, not releasing his comforting hand from the southerner's face. "He overheard part of a 'discussion' out in the kitchen, just before you got here."

"A discussion?" Buck's face reflected his bewilderment. "I don't understand. What discussion?"

Sanchez sighed and patted Ezra's face gently, then leaned back and pushed himself back up onto his feet. "John Dunne, your words did this."

JD flashed a look of irritation at their profiler. Then looked back at his friends, Buck returned his look with one of trust and puzzlement. "Kid?"

Shifting uncomfortably, from foot to foot, JD sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, angry at the way Josiah had forced this now. He didn't want to hurt Ezra, but looked like he'd have to. "Buck, I know you're just playing here. Playing a part for Ezra's sake, but you gotta tell him the truth."

Buck felt the small man on his lap start to tremble and begin to struggle again. "Ezra! Stop! It's okay." He focused first on Ezra, then turned to look up again at the kid who still stood there, beginning to look angry. He didn't understand any of this. "Kid, what playing? What are you talking about?"

Impatiently, JD waved a hand down at the pair. "This, Buck, this! Look at you! I know Ezra's your friend, he's my friend too!" JD shook his head in frustration, his hair flying wilding. "But that don't mean you have to become one of them, like him."

"What are you talking about?" Buck's voice was getting calmer and into a lower range as he began to get an uneasy glimmer of what this was about.

JD ignored the danger signals that had Josiah backing up and leaning hopelessly against the opposite wall. "You're actin' like a -- a --" he hesitated, faced with finishing that thought in front of Ezra.

Ezra had no hesitation, however, "A fag. A flaming fag," he muttered into Buck's shirt.

Instantly Buck's hands were even tighter around the small man, tugging him even closer, burying his head against Ezra's neck. "Ezra! Is that what you heard?"

Standish didn't answer, just ducked his head lower still, his tremors increasing. He'd folded his free hand over his strapped arm, and both hands were in tight fists as if he was trying to prevent himself from reaching out. "Oh, Ez." Buck rocked him up and nuzzled downward until he could trap those tender lips. Kissing the man, he felt him relax in his arms. "Ez, you ain't that, never were. You are Ezra P. Standish, the bravest, smartest, bestest secret agent in the world." He smiled at the tiny grin that began to break through on Standish's face at the sweeping comment. "And, Ezra P., I love you so much it damn near hurts!" He finished that with another kiss.

"Buck!" JD couldn't believe what he was seeing, hearing. There had to be a mistake. This was not his friend Buck. No one changed that much!

"JD." Wilmington looked up and his face smoothed out dangerously. "He heard you say that, didn't he?" Not waiting for an answer, Buck continued. "Not sure what hair got across your ass, kid, but you don't hurt Ezra. He's done nothing to deserve that. He's your friend too, kid."

"I know that, Buck!" JD was suddenly desperate, finally sensing that he might lose two friends this day. "But you!"

"ME!" Buck would have surged to his feet and shaken the young man if not for the bundle of misery in his arms. As it was, he lowered his voice still more, the intensity carrying a message of truth that not even JD could deny. "I have just found something I been looking for all my life, JD. I found someone to love. Someone who loves me, too. JD, you're supposed to be happy for me!" The final words took on an almost bewildered plea, changing the anger to something easier for JD to face.

"But Buck, this just isn't who you are!"

"JD, don't insult me. Or Ez. This IS who I am!" Buck let his head drop back against the wall behind him, never relinquishing his hold on his dear love. "Accept it. Accept us."

"I -- I can't, Buck!" JD was tearful now, backing up, shaking his head in dismay.

"Then, leave us alone, JD, or by god, I'll whup your ass. You aren't hurting Ezra anymore with your words, boy."

"No, Buck!" Ezra's interruption was unexpected as the two friends faced off across his body. Ezra reached up to grab a handful of Buck's collar and tug. "Please, I don't want to come between you and JD!"

Buck looked down into unhappy green eyes, sad beyond belief. "You aren't doing this Ezra, it's not your fault! I love you. When JD is ready, he'll understand, he'll realize it's just another change and life is full o'them." Buck kissed Ezra again, liking the taste of it more and more, wanting to take them off somewhere where they could just hug and kiss without interruptions.

JD groaned and clenched his fists at his sides. Even seeing it, hearing the love in Buck's voice, he still fought to keep his old friend, his old comfortable, reliable Buck. "Buck, please, just think for a moment?"

"JD. Get out." Buck's words were flat and calm. "Come back when you are thinking straight, 'cause you're thinking with your butt right now."

"Buck --"

"Get out."

JD whirled and practically ran past a sad and tired Sanchez, who slowly followed the boy into the front hall where he was fumbling with the door bolts. "JD? Give yourself some time. They love each other and we should be celebrating that, not fighting it."

"Leave me alone, Josiah!" JD had finally worked his way through all the security, even shutting off the alarm. He slammed open the door and strode outside, never looking back, heading for his bike at the curb. With a final catch of his breath, not really a sob, he leapt onto the machine and kick started it. As Sanchez stood silently in the doorway, the young agent gunned his engine and roared down the street and out of sight.

Sanchez shook his head and sent another of a long line of prayers heavenward. He didn't notice the dark compact, a rental car, ease away from the opposite curb and start to accelerate down the street. Closing the door, he slowly re-fixed the locks and alarms and went into the kitchen. Another cup of coffee would be nice, he thought. He'd stay here for now. Let Buck and Ezra have some space and time together, try to heal each other. He hoped.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Nathan stood back and watched as the last of the three body bags was loaded on the morgue truck. He'd follow in the team surveillance van. Chris and Vin had left a few minutes ago to go to the local sheriff's office. The roadside tavern, the Hot Run, was outside the city limits but within the county sheriff's purview. Larabee planned on giving very little information about the dead men. He wasn't even going to mention all the blood tests that Nathan was going to get done. Nathan was pulling in quite a few favors. None of the testing would be official, because, officially, the rape never happened.

He and Chris, with a quiet Vin listening, had made some arbitrary decisions about what would be told. Since they only had second and even third hand information, and that largely incomplete, they were not really covering any evidence. Certainly the bullet holes in the dead men made it a triple homicide, but beyond 'accidentally' uncovering them while checking out a crime scene, they had little to contribute.

Now, he would go talk to the M.E. in charge, and be persuasive. He wasn't worried, the man owed him a couple of very big favors and for this he'd call it even. He could call in some favors at the lab, too. They'd know soon. Starting the van, he pulled out on to the highway behind the meat wagon. I hope these bastards are clean. Ezra doesn't need that on top of everything else. He moved the van into position behind the truck and they moved away.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Larabee was silent as he and Vin left the sheriff's office later that afternoon. There really wasn't much they could, or would, tell. Somehow, Ezra Standish's name and undercover assignment never even got mentioned. He knew it was too soon to hear from Nathan. But that didn't stop him from wondering, worrying. He turned as he felt Vin's hands slide up his spine under his coat. Facing the shorter man, he smiled down into crystal blue eyes. Neither spoke, but volumes were said as they stared at each other, then Vin moved back with a tiny smile and they got in the truck.

The plan was to meet at Ezra's townhouse, though Chris was beginning to regret he hadn't suggested his ranch house. But the important thing was to help the undercover agent get his balance back. As usual, he was coming off assignment looking battered and wan, thinner and tired. Only, this time, there was more to it, more personal, than ever before. Chris was worried. Thank god for Buck. And, thank you god that he and Ez 'found' each other. It would be the silver lining to this black cloudy future.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The highway patrol found the abandoned motorbike, the rear wheel still spinning, on it's side in a ditch near downtown Denver. There was no sign of a body and the registration alerted them that there might be more to this than met the eye. The bike was registered to a John D. Dunne, a federal agent of the ATF. None of the officers could figure out the significance of the piece of bulletproof vest tied to one handle bar but they duly wrapped it for evidence.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Buck had finally persuaded Ezra to come into the bedroom and cuddle with him on Ezra's big bed. It had taken some very sincere and persistent talking to finally sway Ezra, though Buck suspected that from the moment he sent JD away, he'd won his case. Nothing could convince Ezra as well as Buck's rejection of his long time best friend and little brother. Standish slept almost from the moment his head hit the pillow and Buck stayed with him for over an hour. When it was clear that his friend was going to sleep for quite a while, Buck carefully extricated himself from their tangled pile of limbs and made his way to Josiah out in the kitchen. The gentle giant was still sipping coffee at the kitchen table.

"You drink too much more of that and you'll sink."

Josiah looked up at the tired, dark blue eyes. "How is he?"

"Sleeping."

Sanchez nodded and smiled slowly. "He needs to do that."

"JD gone?"

"Yep." Josiah sat up more and wiped at his face with one large paw. "He needs time, Buck. You're his family, his touchstone. He didn't take kindly to having that become unstable, change. He craves stability, he's young, wants to go explore but know that home is always there, always the same, dependable. He resents this change in you. He resents Ezra for it."

"But Josiah --"

Sanchez held up a silencing hand. "I know, Buck. But he doesn't. He'll learn, but in the meantime his learning may prove a bit painful to the rest of us." The big profiler shook his head sadly. "Right now, keep your energies on Ezra. Once he's back on track again, then we can worry about that young man. Work on healing Ezra, Buck. JD will be back. He's a good kid and smart. He'll figure it out.

Wilmington picked up the mug Sanchez had filled for him and took a large gulp of the steaming brew. "Thanks, Josiah."

"Not too soon, brother, let's let this play out first." Sanchez worn features looked especially heavily etched with lines this evening.

With a final draw on his coffee, Buck stood again and slapped the other man on a shoulder. "Gonna head back in to Ez. We'll be in Ezra's room until you hear from Nate or Chris. Let us know what you hear."

Both men smiled at their plan and Buck walked back out of the kitchen and headed down the hall. He wondered how JD was.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Ezra slept the sleep of a Rip Van Winkle, lost to the world, he slept on and on, his body and mind in desperate need of the rest. Sometimes he was drawn close to the surface of his sleep, when he sensed the nearness of Buck Wilmington, lying at his side, touching him, petting him, murmuring little endearments and encouragements. Other times he dove so deeply that he was in the cradle of rest that was his own dark interior, devoid of everything and somehow renewing for that. He did not dream but his mind was not still. It examined all that had befallen him, it held up each experience to the magnifying glass of his psyche and studied it minutely, turning it to see all the facets, interconnections and divisions. Ezra was not reliving his experiences so much as pulling from them all possible knowledge and any possible interpretations. These ruminations of an unconscious mind ordered his emotions and his thoughts, gave them meaningful and constructive dimensions. When he would finally awake, things would feel clearer, more understandable somehow. Insights that he'd not had before sleeping would emerge with surprising penetration from the ether. The mind is an awesome thing and even in repose, it never really sleeps.

Finally rested enough to face the world again, he arose through layers of thinner and thinner gauzes, until he blinked. Opened his eyes on his bedroom, a nightlight glowing in one corner. An empty room. With a rush, his before-sleep world came back to him. Where's Buck? JD? The others? Why am I here, alone? He sat up slowly, testing himself and finding himself in good condition. A residual ache in his shoulder and arm did not surprise him but it was very minor, an irritant really, nothing more. He looked down at the strapping holding his arm in place across his chest. I don't need this anymore, he thought with certitude. With great dexterity, he undid the bindings one-handed and had soon freed himself. He dropped the straps and bandages to the floor. With a yawn and a stretch, he stood, feeling as if he could fly. He held his arms wide, testing his weak shoulder and it held. He was fine. No, better. He was really good.

He smiled and wriggled, feeling the half-opened zipper of his jeans' fly scratch at his mons and lower belly, catching on pubic hairs. He reached down and comfortably scratched himself there, readjusting his sacks and dick within the small jockey shorts that hung low at his hips, then pulled the jeans closed and zipped and snapped them shut. His tee shirt was hopelessly wrinkled but it did not matter. He used his fingertips like hard claws to scrape across the fuzzy hairs of his belly. One hand wandered up, inside the tee, to play almost automatically with first one, then the other small, hard nub there. He wondered again about Buck, remembering his friend's hands on him there and there and there. His fingers retraced his memories, filling him and hardening him as they traveled. With a last sigh of regret, he dropped his hands and arched back, putting pressure on his self-induced hard on and flexing his spine. He could ignore that minor discomfort until he found his friend. Not quite ready to call Buck my lover yet. And of course, we have yet to do anything really. With that thought came the next. They found the bodies, has Nathan had time to get the testing done? What has he found out?

Questions without answers finally drove Ezra from his retreat back out into the apartment and the world beyond. He started out with a shuffle, but by the time he'd reached his bedroom door, he was walking with his natural, athletic grace, a feline in human form. Just beyond his closed door, he sensed activity, people, a disturbed atmosphere. He tensed, wondering what had happened now and was he at fault? Cautious, he pried the door slowly open and peered out and down the hall. Not much to be seen from his position, he caught sight of Josiah crossing the room beyond, cell phone to ear. His demeanor tense and unhappy. Then a flash of Buck, who strode by also with cell phone to ear. The flickering of half-seen images was like some old-fashioned lantern show.

Ezra walked barefoot down the hall and stood at the end of it, taking in the scene. Five of his teammates were engaged in anxious activities, almost all on cell phones, though Nate and Vin were hunched over some sort of map. Chris stood almost directly across from him, back to the room, his black silhouette slumped against the patio doorframe as he, too, spoke on a cell phone.

Ezra stepped out into the room. "What happened?"

Everything stopped, like a bad version of musical chairs, the players froze for a second, then five heads came around to look at him. Five faces transformed for a moment from tense, unhappy visages into smiles. Buck spoke first. "Ez!" He strode up to Standish, muttering some last words into his phone before terminating the connection and dropping the phone in a pocket. He reached out and grabbed the smaller man, pulling him into a comfortable embrace, kissing him easily in front of the others. Ezra responded just as naturally, arms finding homes around the bigger man's waist as he raised his face to meet that kiss, smiling as he was released. For a moment, it was just the two of them. And both smiled, warmly basking in each other's presence.

Then Ezra remembered the scene he'd interrupted. "Buck? What's going on?"

Wilmington's face seemed to crumple in front of his eyes, the warmth and love replaced by worry and fear, tension. "JD is missing, Ez. We think Tony Borgo has him."

With that, the world started again and Ezra released his hold on Buck to turn and face the rest of the team. Like Buck, their smiles of welcome were short-lived as they all gathered around the large coffee table, Ezra now among them. Vin nodded once to Ezra, before pointing at several wilder areas on the edges of the city. "He could have gone to ground in any of these spots, they're all near where JD's bike was found."

Ezra, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs, squeezed in with Buck who was casually encircling him with one long arm, listened alertly. Josiah shook his head and settled more deeply in the other armchair. "No, he may be over the edge, brother Vin, but he is a smart man. A former police officer, now an ATF agent - and one of the best sharpshooters after you in the agency. He won't be close to where the evidence was found."

Nathan, seated next to Vin on the couch, nodded his agreement. "He may be crazy now, but he's crazy like a fox. He left that piece of vest there on purpose. It not only had his prints, it had the code number on that piece. He had to know we'd ID it almost immediately."

Larabee spoke now, still standing, though he'd dragged in a kitchen chair, he was too restless to sit. "Just finished talking with Tom Nelson, Team 4. He says Jerry Ortega heard from Tony earlier in the day. Since 4 had already seen JD's tape, even Jerry knew that Tony had gone renegade, shot Ez, tried to cover it. So, Jerry tried to talk Tony into coming in, but the man just started boasting about Ezra." Chris looked apologetically over at their undercover agent. "About how he belonged to Borgo and that Buck couldn't have him. That he'd teach Wilmington a lesson, use his own 'boy toy' against him."

A deadly silence followed as the men digested this latest information. Crazy Tony Borgo was out there with JD, ready to harm him for imagined slights. Ezra stood up abruptly, bringing all eyes to him. "NO!" He turned and looked down at the still seated Wilmington. "NO!" He fought clear of his friend's arms and stood almost face to face with Larabee. "He's doing this because of me?"

Chris wished he had a different answer. But, he would not lie to his agent. "Yes, Ezra. Because he accidentally shot you, then tried to cover his ass. When he failed, so did his mind, from what we can figure." Larabee reached out and gripped one slender muscular arm firmly. "Yes, it's because of you, BUT, it's NOT your fault, Ezra." Mutters of agreement and reassurance rose behind the two men from the rest. Green eyes probed hazel ones, seeking out the truth and finding it there, trusting it. Ezra relaxed slightly. Not his fault.

With that self-absolution, Ezra's mind began to work. He sat back down beside Buck who hooked an arm back around him, drawing him close as if the proximity would provide the tall man with needed comfort. Ezra held onto the top of one hand, rubbing it with his thumb, sending calm reassurance. Inside, though, Ezra was getting angry. Tony had treated him like dirt for a year. Used him. Abused him, hitting him, hurting him during intercourse turning sex into near rapes, talking trash to him, degrading him at every opportunity. And Ezra had let him. Just for the comfort of knowing that someone cared, even negatively, about him, that he had someone to go home to at night, to crawl into bed with, and not have to cruise the bars to find an evening's companion. Only he'd paid for this, with his body and his mind. Crushingly so.

This, though, this was different. Tony was hurting others now. His friends. Hurting JD and through him, Buck and the rest, even himself. Tony had to be stopped. Tony was a cruel bully, a physically brutish being. And now, apparently, with a doubly disturbed mind. A combination beyond a word as simple as 'dangerous.' Tony was a disaster. And he had to be stopped. Rationally, Ezra listened as the others continued their discussions, some reporting what they'd found with street connections and informants. Ezra no longer listened because he knew Tony better than anyone. Knew him and now, hated him. The anger he'd felt when he first heard the horrifying news was growing now, coating his insides and burying his gentler feelings. It was quietly growing into a deep-seated rage at the audacity of the man. A terrible hate rose within Ezra. He would NOT allow this man to harm his friends, his family. Not JD, and not any of the rest of these men. Ultimately, this was between him and Tony. It had started there and it would end there. He found his feet again, a coldness having settled over him.

"Ezra?" Buck's quiet question drew the others' attention back to their undercover agent.

"I think I'll get some water." He kept his voice pleasant, neutral. "Can I get anyone anything?" At the shaking heads, he ambled out into the kitchen, his head swinging toward the front door, checking the alarm light. It was off. As he'd thought. With nearly the entire team here, and agitated on top of everything else, someone had forgotten to reset the alarm, or simply decided it wasn't necessary with so many here. Either way, he knew he'd be able to leave undetected. He drank a glass of water realizing he was thirsty, then returned to the living room slowly.

He yawned just inside the room. Buck looked up and met his eyes, sending a question. "Just tired still." Ezra forced a yawn that became the real thing with no effort. "Tell me when there's something I can do?"

Buck rose and went to him, catching one of Ezra's cold hands and rubbing it between his. "Sure. You go back and get some more rest, Ez. We'll wake you when there's anything to be done."

Standish nodded and squeezed Buck's hands with his own, then nodded to the rest and padded back out of the room. Vin followed his departure with thoughtful eyes. Turned back to meet equally cynical eyes of his own lover, Chris Larabee. But what could the southerner do, back in his bedroom? Two sets of eyes blinked and two sets of shoulders made small shrugs, then the two turned back to the group.

Buck looked down the hallway as far as he could, watching Ezra's retreating form. Loving Ezra was a full time job. And he was so lucky to land it. Land him. Even in the midst of the crisis of JD's disappearance, Buck took comfort from his new alliance with the southerner, that sexy, sweet little demon of his heart. Somehow, he knew they would prevail. He just had faith. He, too, turned back to the rest.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Ezra re-entered his bedroom and closed the door softly. Once it was closed, his movements took on purpose and speed. He dragged off his clothing and pulled out other things, dressing quickly, neatly, in black chinos, a black turtle neck, black canvas shoes with rubber soles. He began to arm himself. Knives strapped to each calf, an ankle holster for his smallest revolver, not quite a derringer. His waist gun had a holster at the small of his back, the flat automatic fitting there like a glove. Another knife in a spring snap device, went on one forearm, a weighted flat baton on the other. A garrote slipped into another waistband belt pocket, woven in with subtle and secret menace. His final underarm holster was the only obvious place he carried a weapon. It was his Sig. A deadly gun for a shootist of his level of expertise. Few outside his own team knew that Ezra was second only to Vin as a fire arms expert, his accuracy uncanny in its precision.

He pulled on a simple teflar vest of his own design. Not really bulletproof, since it was so thin and light, but the woven mesh was so dense that it would slow penetration to safety levels for all but the most powerful, most direct, short range hits. The vest protected while not doing so obviously since it was stylish and thin. It also had the advantage of at least partially concealing his Sig and underarm holster. He tucked a few simple items, also of his own creation, into pockets, some normal, some concealed.

The activities of dressing and arming himself took only about five minutes since he was working fast, but now that he was done, he took time to go into the small master bathroom and there also drink a full glass of water. He knew his anger and energy would dehydrate him quickly. He drank a second glass. Looking at his reflection in the sink mirror, he saw his face reflect back placidly, a calmness devoid of emotion, the eyes blank and mute. Yes, he was ready. Controlled rage was his ultimate weapon. Tony was a dead man, this he vowed. He would rescue JD and then, dispose of this blot on humanity. And, he would do it alone, only his hands dirty. Only he to garner any blame. His friends would be safe, Buck would be safe. He would not think beyond that. With a last, lost look towards the front of the house, good bye Buck, he pushed up the window sash and slipped out into the gathering dark.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Ezra stealthily opened the garage doors and walked inside. From a shelf on one side of the garage he retrieved packing materials and removed a sheet of brown paper and a large black marker. It was a moment's work to scrawl a message boldly on to the big sheet of paper. He started up the Jag, its usual whisper quiet engine cooperating. Backing it out part way, he climbed out and placed the newly written message on the center of the floor and anchored it with a can of motor oil. To make sure it would be spotted, he placed one white jogging shoe on top of that, from a pair he kept in the garage. He eyed his small monument, they'd all see it right away. He figured with luck he had about a half hour before his disappearance would be noticed, then his team would follow quickly. With JD's life at stake, he could not afford to simply go on his own with no back up. But, he could go first.

Message left, Ezra dropped back into the black Jag and slowly backed out onto the quiet street. The Ram was sitting at the curb, as was Josiah's old station wagon. Changing gears quietly, he let the car drift up the street before accelerating. When he hit the corner, the car flew around it and he was off. He knew he was right. Tony had been fascinated by the old abandoned hippodrome at the south edge of the city. The Hawks and other biker clubs used it for rallies and for mock races, so he'd found out about it early in his month of undercover work with the biker gangs before he'd had to go in deep. He'd told Tony about it one night, kind of pillow talk. Borgo had insisted they go see it. Even late at night, the place had been lit with a scattering of high security lamps. No doubt the city maintained those to prevent homeless taking over the place. Tony had begun boasting about the shots he could make from the rims of the stands, the announcer's tower, and other long shot locations. Yes, Tony would go there because he would know that Ezra would remember.

Abandoning the Jag near the front entrance, Ezra faded into the shadows and found the broken chain fence gate easily. Even though by now the full moon was shining down brightly, he couldn't tell if the entrance had been disturbed. He was not a tracker like Vin Tanner. But, he was a good agent and he could do this. He kept to the shadows and gradually worked his way further inside, through the bowels of the grand stands, past the first of many stables and parking areas, out on to the track. Standing at the place where horses were once led with great hope and excitement from their temporary stables to the opening gates of the flat track, Ezra looked out over the great expanse of open space. The large oval was essentially unchanged, though the greens that once were manicured to a perfect lawn at the center of the giant oval, now scraggled with weeds and ragged dried grass, debris. He let his eyes adjust to the dim moonlight, no stadium lights here to help.

There. Out on the track, not far from the judges' stand. A huddle of something in the middle of that section of the large sweeping track. It had to be JD. He just knew it. That meant Tony wanted to play. He rubbed his nose in contemplation. Pulled a long wicked looking knife from one calf strap. Hunching over, Ezra ran swiftly and straight to the boy's side.

JD was bound, ankles and wrists, and all were secured like a rodeo calf's, in front of him. A gag cut viciously across his face. Ezra squatted over his young friend and carefully turned him partly on to his back, brushing back dark hair from a bruised face. "JD?" He kept his voice low.

JD Dunne had been dreaming. The simple brutal beating he'd had to endure at the hands of that crazy giant, Tony Borgo, left him feeling numb, pulverized. Too limp to even feel pain yet. The man had ranted something about JD being Wilmington's toy and now his, that Standish would pay for leaving him for Wilmington and that Buck would pay for taking up with the southerner. It was too confusing to make much sense to the young hacker but it did deflate his anger at Ezra and Buck. If they were the targets of this madman, then JD would do what he could to protect them. Turned out, there hadn't been anything he could do. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. From the moment his bike had been rear-ended on the road, sending him flying into the street, he'd been at a disadvantage. That he had let that happen he had to attribute to his own temper, so upset that he'd been lax. Only himself to blame.

Punched in the face until he was half-blinded with swelling flesh and blood from open cuts, JD had been thrown into the trunk of a small car, handcuffed. Dragged back out an indeterminate time later at some weird old open stadium, like a racetrack, he'd never even been given a chance to regain his feet. Simply hauled along the ground like a bag of feed that Chris used out at the ranch for their horses. Dumped on the track, Tony had kicked him repeatedly. JD was sore all over. The cuffs were removed and he was tied with rope. Then the man had started playing sick games with him. Telling him what he'd be doing with the youngster once he'd finished with Wilmington. And what he'd do to Ezra when he had him back again. JD had listened to this and been sick. And realized that THIS was something evil, not what his friends had found, no, this was the bad thing to fight. The love between Buck and Ezra made a lot more sense out here, alone and hurt, scared and helpless. Truths had a way of appearing when one was reduced to the basic needs of life, like survival. JD had been gagged from the time he'd regained consciousness after being tossed from his bike. He'd had no chance to argue his case, to try to reach the mad glare and change it.

When Borgo had begun stroking his face and neck with the cut off broom handle, JD had simply been confused. Was he going to beat him with that next? But then the sick words had begun to register and JD had tried to squirm away, even tied as tightly as he was. To no avail, the big man only grabbed a handful of hair and dragged the young man back to the ground at his feet. Hunkered down beside JD, Tony had sweated and alternately grinned and scowled as he described the way he'd take Ezra when he got him back. Then he'd describe how he would leave JD to be found by Wilmington, teach that bastard a lesson. JD's horror mounted when Borgo forced the rounded, smooth end of the broom handle into the boy's waistband at the rear. With a forceful tug, JD's jeans were ripped open in the front, zipper half-torn from its seams. The loosened pants readily accepted the invading stick that was forced down against JD's spine, down between his ass cheeks. The angle was wrong, of course, for penetration, but for the moment, that didn't seem to be Tony's intent. He was leaving his 'calling card,' he said. Ezra would know, he said. JD trembled and fought back tears of sheer terror. Then Tony was gone. He'd lain there for only a few minutes and then Ezra was there.

Oh, god! NO! Ezra shouldn't be there. Tony was using JD for bait. He couldn't be the cause of a friend's being hurt, maybe killed. He struggled to spit out the gag, but it was too tight. Ezra was not looking at his face now anyway, but JD saw the devastation on the southerner's as he felt the broom handle pulled free. He shuddered and relaxed, feeling safe with Ezra here now. Like any of the others, Ezra was a big brother who could make things right. He was speaking now, a low, sad tone. "JD, I'm so sorry. I'll get you out of here, I promise." He threw the piece of wood away from them angrily. He'd gotten the message. Now Tony was going to hear from HIM. As soon as JD was safe.

JD watched, blinking to keep his eyes clear, as Ezra cut through the ropes that had held him prisoner. Suddenly Standish lurched forward, almost landing on him. At the same time, JD heard the crack of a rifle. Shit, Borgo was firing at them, had hit Ezra. JD couldn't help the whimper that leaked out. Helpless and scared, he stared up owl-eyed at his friend who was pushing himself back onto his heels. "Easy, JD. I'm almost through." Couldn't have been hurt too bad, he was looking at ease again, the momentary look of pain only a fleeting memory on Ezra's face. Finally, Ezra slipped the blade beneath the gag and cut it away. JD lay there, unable to do more than gasp and flop about, the cut off circulation returning slowly and painfully to hands and feet, the dry, cottony feel of his mouth preventing him from speaking. Just dry coughs.

Ezra put a hand to JD's face. "Relax a moment. I'll help you, just get your breath back." Another crack of rifle fire and again Ezra flinched, knocked sideways to one knee. But his face remained blank, then he flicked a look of pure disgust over his shoulder. It almost made JD laugh. You didn't mess with Ezra. No, Ezra was the team's secret weapon in a lot of ways, not the least as a fighting machine. The smallest of the team, he could be lethal with hands and feet or a weapon, practically any weapon. Vin had once confided to JD that if he and Ez had ever had to compete openly for sharp shooting, that he wasn't all that sure who'd win. JD had been impressed. Now, he watched in awe, as Standish, apparently hit again, ignored the second injury much as he had the first.

Catching the youth's eyes, Ezra shook his head. "He's mad. He's toying with us, with me. I'm not hurt, really. Just nicks. He doesn't want this over soon. And wants to prove how good he is." Ezra looked regretfully at JD. "This isn't about you or Buck. I am going to finish this. Now, let's get you undercover." He slipped a shoulder under one of JD's arms and helped support the other man to his feet. Another crack. Ezra's body jerked in response but he made no comment and began to walk the boy slowly toward the exits to the stands.

"Ez-ra." JD had to take a breath before continuing, lick his lips to ease the cracking and dryness there. "Run. Leave me." He coughed. "Please."

"No, Mr. Dunne. I do not abandon friends, and despite everything, I do hope I can still count you a friend?"

"Of course." JD struggled to speak again as he stumbled beside the other man. "About Buck --"

"JD, Buck is an adult. You must let him do what he wants."

"I know, Ez. I'm sorry." JD tripped on his own feet and nearly dragged them downward just as the vicious rifle cracked yet again.

This time Ezra grunted. The sudden movement had altered his shape, the bullet, meant to simply clip, dug deeper this time, into the back of one thigh. He couldn't let JD know, the boy would fight him and there was no time. He pulled them both back up and continued to doggedly guide the weakened boy toward the safety of the exit's shelter.

They were getting close now. With only thirty feet to go, small gouts of earth began to explode at their feet, in front of them, marching toward them. Ezra stopped and looked back up again. Message received. You want to play and you don't want me to go. He gently released JD's arm and steadied the young man. JD was growing stronger, seemed almost able to stand on his own now. "JD." Ezra came around in front and cupped the boy's face between two hands. "I want you to walk slowly on to that exit. Get undercover. If you can, go on through to the front of the grounds, my Jag is there. There's a cell phone in the glove compartment." He slipped a small object in one of JD's pockets. "Here's the key." He stepped to the side and gave JD a push. "Go."

"But Ez, I can't just leave you --"

Another crack, another burst of dirt between their feet. "Yes, you can. You must. Go, JD, get help. For me, please?"

JD could only nod and begin to shuffle on toward the gate. No more shots. Ezra had guessed correctly, Tony wanted him in plain sight. Well, Tony, not for long, only until JD is safe, lover, then you and I are going to dance. He jerked again as a bullet tore at the top edge of his bad shoulder. Ignoring the latest hit, he stared up into the dark stands on the far side of the track. Just wait, Tony, I'm coming.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

"Ezra's gone!" Buck ran back into the living room where the rest of the team had converted the space into a temporary emergency command center. More maps littered the kitchen table and coffee table. A laptop had appeared in front of Nathan, another in front of Josiah. Chris was on his cell phone again as was Vin, who was hunched over a map, one finger tracing a route as he spoke low-voiced into his cell.

Everyone looked up. Josiah swung towards the front door. "The alarm?"

Nathan rose, shaking his head. "I didn't reactivate it when I brought in the laptops from the van a while back. Figured with all of us here --" he trailed off, shrugging apologetically. Both Chris and Vin were closing their conversations and snapping shut their phones.

Vin spoke next. "The Jag."

They all headed for the garage, going out the front door en masse. The garage was open and lit. And empty. Except for a rather strange arrangement in the center of the floor. One white running shoe sat atop a can of engine oil. Vin walked closer cautiously, then stopped to study the floor. "Well, leastways he left us a message."

The others walked over and stared down. There on a large sheet of brown wrapping paper, in Ezra's elegant scrawl, was a black markered message.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Nathan was still breathless from running down the short street and around the corner to where he'd stashed the team's surveillance van. They'd need it now, it had the weapons lock down in the rear. He pulled into the wake of Chris' Ram, Buck's pickup, and Josiah's station wagon. They made quite a caravan. Only missing Vin's jeep, JD's bike, and Ezra's Jag to make it complete.

Buck closed his eyes for a moment when he got to the stop sign, then pushed the truck through and followed the black Ram. They had to be in time. It hadn't been more than thirty minutes since Ezra'd gone back into the bedroom. He shook his head. He would have to work on instilling more of a sense of family in their wayward agent, his soon to be lover. He smiled despite the tension. Then, leaning forward, he urged them to faster speeds with his body, even though the old truck was pushing the limit already, keeping the speeding Ram in sight.

Four vehicles came to slithering, sliding stops in the largely empty parking area in front of the old hippodrome. Empty except for a black Jag and a young man clinging to the door handle of it.

Throwing open his door, Buck was running dead out before the others managed to fight free from seat belts and doors. "JD!" He skidded to a halt beside the younger man, hugging him close. "Boy, you okay?" Already anxiously examining the raw face that squinted back up at him.

"Here's Ezra's car key," JD mumbled as he half-heartedly raised one hand toward Buck who'd now released him. Buck caught it as JD leaned back against the low sports car. "He's inside. With that crazy guy, Borgo." JD coughed. By now the others were surrounding him, Nathan crouched in front of him, carefully tugging at clothes and feeling for injuries. "Borgo's playing with him. Some shit game of bullet tag. Fuck, Chris," JD looked up, as enraged and disgusted as any of them had ever seen him, "he's hit Ez at least four times that I know of -- just nicks him, draws blood."

Nathan was standing now, gently examining JD's pulverized face. JD ignored him and continued. "Ezra got me out. Borgo used me for bait. Now he's got Ez." Dark brown eyes flashed over to Wilmington. "I'm sorry about before, Buck. You got a right to love the man, hell, I gotta love the man, he just saved my life -- again."

Buck reached out one hand to gently touch one of JD's shoulders. "Thanks, JD. He's worth it." Wilmington shot a worried glance at his oldest friend. "Chris? I gotta get in there."

Larabee was already breaking open the weapons box at the back of the van, mere feet from the Jag. "Take what you want, Buck. And, be careful. No point going in there and giving him two hostages. We'll be right behind you."

Buck tapped JD reassuringly, one last time and strode over to the weapons locker. He was armed and moving before the others had finished picking their own and slinging on vests.

Chris stared at what was left of his team. "Nathan, stay out here with JD. Cover the exits and take care of him."

Jackson wanted to argue but knew Larabee was right, so he settled for a single nod, guiding their hacker to a seat in the back of the van and already pulling out his medical kit.

Chris looked over at Josiah and Vin. "Vin, make your way in the back, go high. Josiah, you and I will hit left and right, figure Buck went in the middle."

Sanchez hefted an automatic rifle. "We will prevail, brothers, this I know. Evil will not win this time."

No one else said anything, and they were off and running.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

As soon as JD faded into the shadows of the exit, Ezra turned his mind from the boy and concentrated on his adversary. "TONY!"

"EZRA - come to play?" The cold, hard voice still carried just an edge of sanity, enough to be dangerous.

"YES. Come out so I can."

"No, no, Ezra, you come up to me, sweetass. Come on to daddy." Borgo's voice took on that sickeningly dulcet tone he'd sometimes used in the bedroom, when playing out some mean-natured fantasy.

Refusing to acknowledge his multiple grazes now, or the deeper gouge in his leg, Ezra drew his Sig and stalked across the open oval. Tony shot again and again, neatly bracketing the southerner's feet, but never touching him. The shots were almost like a staccato of hail. Just as he reached the gate to the owners' compound, at the foot of the grand stands, Tony's aim sharpened, and Ezra jerked at another skimming shot that creased his side painfully. The flimsy vest he'd donned was turning out to be useless.

"I'm coming for you Tony."

"You can try, Ezra."

Another shot, this time spinning the small man around, knocking him down momentarily as he grabbed at his good shoulder - good no more. This bullet had clipped the outer edge of the ball, a painful groove. Ezra grit his teeth and lowered his hand, having never let go of his gun. He ducked behind some benches and sidled over to the left, then began to climb. Wait for me, Tony. Stay there. Be arrogant and crazy enough to simply stay there. Ezra flowed up the narrow aisles of stairs, changing course occasionally. There were no more shots, no more hectoring. Only the stillness of the night and the false light of the few security lamps high overhead competing with the more natural light of the very full moon.

Far below now, Ezra heard a clattering and then a door somewhere slammed open and bounced against a wall. He looked out over the track and saw, to his horror, Buck Wilmington running straight across the open course, straight for him and death. "BUCK!" His scream was lost in the sound of another cracking shot.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Concluded on page 5 of 5