Chapter Text

Salus Venia (Saving Grace)

Part One

Awareness came slowly, filling Chris Larabee's senses as the early dawn light filled the room. The light washed through the dark green blinds, shafting sunlight across the walls and floor and bed in regular patterns, weaving warmth and light together in a subtle glow that was as gentle as a morning kiss. He shifted to his side as a slender bar of light started to brush across his eyes, not quite ready to get to the "shine" part of "rise and... "

Not likely to get a morning kiss either, he thought, smiling a little as his gaze fell on the exposed shoulders and back of the man in the bed next to him. Tangled light brown curls fell over the tanned skin, the same striation of sunlight that had woken him, patterned the skin in alternating bars of deep bronze and gold, here and there picking up a freckle or a scar for contrast and texture. Otherwise the skin was smooth and soft looking under the blur of sunlight and sleepiness.

Reaching out, Chris trailed two fingers lightly down the pronounced knobs of his lover's spine, feeling Vin shift under the soft caress, but not waken. Not yet.

Rare enough for Vin Tanner to sleep through the movement Chris had made rolling over, much less this touch. Only here. Vin felt safe enough, secure enough here to sleep this deeply -- as Chris did -- and Chris never slept so deeply as when he had Vin sharing his bed.

It happened often enough for Chris to find it familiar, but not so constant a thing that he yet took it for granted. And not likely to ever be that way for either of them -- not while they were doing the jobs they did and lived the lives the lived. A few nights, a weekend here or there, and the rest of the time everything that happened in this place, in this room, had to be set aside. Deliberately. Purposefully. Without compromise.

Neither Chris nor Vin were particularly, specifically, worried about being found out as gay or bi or whatever convenient label other people might feel called upon to use to describe their relationship. That it wouldn't be greeted by joyous celebration by everyone in their acquaintance didn't matter either. There was more anxiety to the idea that not all of their closest friends and team members might be that accepting.

What did make it less likely to ever become common knowledge was that their relationship had crossed pretty specific guidelines of ethics and behavior that, if openly broken, might ruin one, if not both of their careers. Even a man as open minded as A.D. Orrin Travis was likely to take the rule book out and hurl it at both their heads -- if not more vulnerable places.

ATF Supervisors did not date, seduce, get seduced or otherwise engage in relationships outside the norm of peerage and friendship, with their subordinates. And they certainly weren't allowed to fuck them or be fucked by them.

And if they were engaged in such intimate relations, they damn well better not be caught at it.

If Chris went to Travis and told him he'd not only changed his sexual orientation but had a live in lover, the Assistant Director would not have blinked an eye. If he suspected Vin Tanner was making his way through half the Denver P.D. male or female, he would only caution that too much of a good thing makes a good sharpshooter dull of eye and mind.

There were moments when Chris devoutly wished he or Vin worked for different agencies -- or even different divisions of the ATF. Anything that would put Vin well out of "direct report" status.

And then he'd find himself praying fervently to a God he didn't always believe in that he could keep Vin close, keep him in sight, if only because what they did was always dangerous, always just a thought and reflex ahead of disaster.

Which was, of course, the reason why the conduct code was invented in the first place. Neither husbands and wives nor siblings were allowed to serve in the same field units, and never was that more stringently enforced than when one of a partnership was in a supervisory position and the other a subordinate.

Chris had to smile again, leaning in, letting his lips trail over the path his fingers had taken.

Vin Tanner was hardly a subordinate -- more likely to be insubordinate, just like the rest of Team 7, given half a chance. They were the most insubordinate, mouthy, headstrong, stubborn, cantankerous crew of independent lone gunmen ever shoved together in the history of the ATF.

But once together they were also the most cohesive, competent team of men it had ever been Chris' honor to work with. He'd hand picked every one of them, tied them together with a common thread of justice, rode their asses like a harried single mother and watched them come together like a band of brothers. Heroic rhetoric aside, there wasn't one of them that took their jobs lightly or would do anything to weaken the integrity of the team.

Until now.

And being fair to himself, Chris knew neither he nor Vin were really compromising that integrity either. Not from the inside of the team. If anything, he figured those who knew him well enough for their opinions to count would say he was more stable, less likely to lose his temper or take unconscionable risks with his own life, or the lives of his team, since Vin had come into his life.

The same might be said of Vin who'd never had Chris' temper but had been prone to taking off half-cocked, to volunteer too quickly, to take risks he shouldn't.

Nothing much to lose for either of them.

That was then.

Vin's skin was warm, tasting slightly of sweat from the night's sleeping if not the events preceding sleep. Solid muscle refused to yield under the pressure of Chris' lips, only trembled in reflex and reaction. He couldn't see Vin's face yet, buried as it was in the pillow under his head, but the rest of it was pretty pleasing -- from broad shoulders to lean hips to the firm ass obscured under a tangle of blankets and sheets.

"Y'know...if'n you're hungry, breakfast would be good," came a muffled and sleepy response to Chris' early morning explorations. Chris only grinned and bit one rounded shoulder gently.

"I'm thinking a little bit of something would be good right now," Chris said.

"That mean you're cooking?" Vin asked when Chris moved up to nuzzle the same shoulder, pulling the tangled hair back to tuck his chin against Vin's neck.

The roughness of his beard made Vin squirm a little, but at least now Chris could see part of his lover's face. Vin had a small smile on lips that were already twitching with laughter. Son of a bitch wasn't asleep at all and probably hadn't been from the moment Chris first touched him.

"Sure. Haven't we got chili left from last night? Couple of tortillas, eggs...maybe peppers."

Vin wasn't going to give in that easy. "Sounds pretty good. Don't forget the coffee." He rolled over, Chris shifting just enough to give him room to get on his back. Vin's eyes were open, blue and clear, mouth still curving in that smile that always meant trouble.

"God, you must want something bad to say yes to all that, Mr. Wheat Toast and Yogurt," Chris said.

"Just makin' sure you're keeping your strength up, Larabee," Vin said, Texas drawl soft and easy on Chris' ears. Vin reached up, pulling Chris' head down firmly but gently, mouth opened to claim his lips, tenderly at first then with more hunger that Chris was pretty sure would be cured by neither chili nor yogurt.

So there were other kinds of a food a man needed. Vin's fingers stroked across his side, almost tickling, then to his hip, pressure becoming firmer as he gripped Chris' ass, pulling him closer. The blanket twisted and bunched but there was no mistaking the hardness pressed against Chris' stomach for cloth.

Vin move his mouth to Chris' throat, sucking and biting him carefully, little nips that were instantly soothed by the cool wetness of his tongue across each little mark. Smooth skin shifted under Chris' hands, Vin raising a knee to make a cradle of sorts, hissing softly in assent as their bodies became more pleasurably aligned.

Not one to let Vin get in all the good licks, Chris bent his head, tonguing, then sucking on one small rose-brown nipple, almost gasping as Vin pressed up to rub their cocks together. The friction made Chris suck a breath, then let it out, his breath washing over the still wet bud of flesh and it was Vin's turn to gasp softly and shudder.

So close and so good -- so fast but Chris didn't even think about drawing it out any longer. He pushed up with his arms, staring down at Vin's face, letting his partner keep their bodies in line with hands and legs. Chris' back arched slightly, bringing them in contact again, sensitive flesh quivering in reaction and sending a coil of heat up along his spine and through his groin.

One of Vin's hands was suddenly there, long fingers wrapped around both their cocks to stroke and rub, jacking them off in a steady, intense rhythm that had Chris groaning. He swore softly and bent his neck, Vin watching him and ready, mouths sealed together as their tongues danced and teased, Vin only tearing his mouth away as his spine arched him upward toward Chris, fingers tightening around them and Chris felt the build and break along his own nerves. Pure sensation ripped any thoughts from his brain and left him only with his five senses to sort out the rush of heat and pleasure, the feel of his blood pounding in his veins and his heart pounding in his chest.

There was moisture on his belly and the sharp scent of sex, musky and sweet. Vin was panting in short shallow breaths, every muscle taut as his orgasm washed through him. Chris could taste salt on his lips, eyes taking in the shuttered blue eyes and tense jaw - his own breathing easing as Vin relaxed beneath him and the blue eyes met his with mischief and something a lot deeper and warmer.

He relaxed as well, Vin's arm easing him down, rubbing across his back and up through his hair. He'd have been perfectly content to fall back asleep right there but after a few moments, Vin pushed a little and Chris eased to his side. He got another grin and the rough rub of stubble on his cheek before Vin kissed him deep and hard then rolled away and slid out of the bed, headed for the bathroom.

Chris only sighed a bit and pulled the pillow Vin had used to his chest, closing his eyes and letting the pleasant aftermath of orgasm -- not to mention the fine view of Vin's naked body through the open door -- occupy his slowly recovering brain cells.

The sound of running water brought his attention to other needs and with a groan he got up as well, slipping past Vin to get to the toilet and shaking his head when he caught Vin checking him out in the mirror. "Look the same as I did two minutes ago, Vin."

Vin gave him a wolfish grin and nodded. "That you do, cowboy. Just like what I see," he said and wiped his face before turning around to turn on the shower. "I'm gonna get the coffee on. Save me some hot water," he warned and headed out, not bothering to even grab a towel.

Chris saved him more than hot water but even so they both managed to get showered and at least partially dressed by the time the coffee was ready. Chris kept to the half made agreement, starting breakfast while Vin toweled his hair dry -- a task that took slightly more effort than was required of Chris to dry his own short, blond hair. He passed up the leftover chili, however, managing a mix of eggs and toast - wheat - for them, while Vin made short work of what was left of a half cantaloupe in the refrigerator that he did mix with yogurt. Chris requested his melon unpolluted, thank you.

No wonder at all why Vin always seemed to be fighting the slight side of the weight battle Chris had just the opposite problem with, watching Vin eat the light breakfast: one egg and a piece of toast to Chris' two of each, the fruit and yogurt. Chris was pretty convinced that were he to manage even a day without some kind of exercise, he'd end up showing the same rounded gut half his contemporaries did. Not that he was likely to get a chance to test that theory anytime soon.

Vin cleaned up, taking over the task easily and with the determination of a man who put fairness above all else. They didn't have much to say this early, even if Vin had been one who tended toward a lot of chit chat -- which he wasn't.

There was a time, though, Chris remembered, when this same kitchen had been full of early morning conversations. There had been teasing and talking as he and Sarah tried to organize their lives around Chris' job, what needed to get done and what their son needed -- be it play group or kindergarten or doctor's visits. All of it tumbled together with the kind of easy flirting and banked heat he shared with his wife. They'd been so young and still so much in love that it hadn't been something Chris had taken for granted either.

Vin was more likely to take his mornings quietly, choose his words carefully and use them sparingly. He hadn't fought at all for a larger part of Chris' life, didn't argue when what had started as a quick tumble for comfort and pleasure after one spectacularly stressful incident had become a semi regular thing, then became something a whole lot more than fuck between friends.

For Chris at least. Not that he doubted that Vin felt any less deeply, but Vin was a practical man and far less likely to torture himself with guilt or regrets than Chris was. Made for a nice balance in their relationship, Chris had to admit. In some ways it was a better balance than he'd had with Sarah. She had worried about the life he led, had been confused and sometimes hurt by Chris' black moods when something went wrong at work. She'd wanted to help, to ease his pain, his confusion.

And she had, God she had, kept him sane and human in a job where it was too easy for men to become hard and uncaring, to only see the bad side of human nature. Reminded him that it wasn't just a matter of bringing down the bad guys, that it was, at the base of it all, about protecting people. About protecting her and their son, and other people's wives and sons and husbands and daughters.

Then she was gone, Chris unable to protect either of them and Chris had found himself forgetting that all too quickly.

"Heavy thinking going on there, Chris," Vin's voice broke his thoughts and Chris glanced up to see Vin leaning against the counter, back to the sink. Their breakfast dishes were stacked up in the rack, blue and white towel thrown casually over Vin's shoulder and his jeans riding low on his hips as he sipped at what was left of his coffee. His hair had dried, still loose and tangled, curling around face and neck. Totally non regulation but Vin did enough under-cover work to be able to keep it that length.

"Some," Chris admitted, running a hand through his hair. He grinned at Vin. "That's what you get for keeping me so occupied most of the rest of the time. Have to exercise my brain cells once in awhile."

Vin snorted and shook his head, turning away to rinse out his cup. "We still got a fence to fix," he said, not pressing, a trait Chris was grateful for. Vin passed him, fingers briefly raking through Chris' tousled hair before leaving the kitchen. The touch was light, almost casual, only it wasn't. As with words, Vin Tanner didn't use physical contact casually.

Chris gave his partner a few minutes -- or maybe it was himself that needed them. They did have a fence to put in, upkeep and repair of Chris' ranch a fairly common way for both men to occupy their time even before they'd become lovers. Vin kept an apartment in town, in a rundown section of Denver called Purgatorio and Chris had seen barrios in bigger cities than Denver that didn't look quite so bad. Vin wouldn't leave although he could certainly afford to. Purgatorio had been his home for a lot longer than Chris had known him.

That much, at least, Chris understood. There had been times after Sarah and Adam died when he had been ready to throw this house, the land attached to it, and his job, to the first person to bid on it. For three years he'd lived with ghosts, battled demons, and been hell bent on killing himself by getting himself killed -- it had a been a miracle he hadn't. A bigger miracle that he hadn't managed to get someone else killed in the effort.

In the end, though, it was still home and as he gradually started to let loose his death's grip on the pain and grief and loss, he'd been able to recognize that. But the place had suffered for it. Buck had offered to help more than once and Chris had managed to allow that much -- to keep it from completely falling apart and finding a weekend here and there to get some minor but necessary repairs done, letting his friendship with Buck be the buffer between memories and necessity. That let him pry open the locked doors he'd left behind him. When the ATF offer had come up, Chris had taken it, taken Buck with him because he needed him in ways that Chris couldn't even voice. The job became important again and with each addition to his team, Chris had been forced to face up to the fact that self-destruction might be understood on his own behalf, but not when he had six other men looking to him to make the right decisions, not only for them, but for himself.

He'd still kept his distance though, until the anniversary of their first year together as a unit and Chris had finally given in to Buck's needling and offered his spread as a place for a cook-out. The week before, Buck came out, JD in tow, and Vin tagging along. They'd brought beer and much to Chris' surprise, paint.

"Place looks like shit, Chris," Buck told him, grinning like the devil. "Can't have company with the place looking like this. Sarah would never approve." Vin and JD had looked none too sure this grand scheme of Wilmington's wasn't going to get their asses kicked, if not chewed off.

It was close. Buck invoking his dead wife's name at any other time would have been likely to set Chris off in a rage of pain and anger. But even as he felt his body tense and his mouth open to scorch the paint in the cans Buck held, he realized it was all reaction, all habit. There was no real heat behind his feelings of loss: anger -- yes -- and grief. But they were more an aching and hollow feeling rather than filled with darkness and pain.

And Buck had known. Knew too much sometimes, but he'd known and he'd gambled and known to the second that he'd been right to press that much.

They'd painted and cleaned, drank too many beers, told too many bad jokes and old stories and by the time they left on Sunday night, Chris felt like he'd reclaimed something. The cook-out had gone off without a hitch; just his team and their significant others if they had them, no one Chris didn't know, and pretty much everyone he cared about all in the same place.

Almost like it had been before -- once upon a time when Sarah and Adam had been his whole world, Buck his best friend and didn't it just makes sense that it would be Buck who would bridge the gap between Chris' old life and his new one?

Vin returned, wearing a T-shirt under a flannel shirt and settling into the kitchen chair opposite Chris and only eyeing him for a moment before bending over to pull on his boots and lace them up. "'m gonna load the tools in the truck. You okay?"

Chris nodded and got up. "Yeah, just thinking. Be out in a minute."

Vin nodded and left him, Chris listening to the back door close before heading to his bedroom to get dressed. True to his word, he was outside within five minutes, helping Vin load in the last of the tools and supplies into the back of his Ram. The lumber and wire were already in the back, Chris tossing work gloves and a small cooler on top of the rest.

It took them no more than twenty minutes cross the rutted and open land to get to the back side of the property. The fencing there had been put in first and was the oldest. Vin had noticed a few weeks ago that some of the posts had rotted and fallen over when they'd been riding. Hazard to hikers and animals, he'd commented and Chris had been quick to point out that there shouldn't be hikers on his land.

"Kind of hard to know it belongs to somebody if'n there's no fence," Vin said and had walked away from the conversation. Chris had been a bit annoyed, which was the real reason he'd said anything. Annoyed he'd let it go untended, because Vin was right. Annoyed because every time he put time and money and effort into the place he was brought back to why he'd bought it in the first place -- reasons that mostly were no longer there. He knew he should be moving on, finish the healing begun a year before and kept getting stuck on why he wasn't.

Which brought him back to Vin every damn time.

The cook-out the previous summer had been the point where he'd started healing, progress slow but there. The Friday following, Chris had managed to find time and the words to thank Buck and JD and Vin for their help, saying they'd be welcome anytime. The he'd extended that invitation to Ezra and Nathan and Josiah and a little surprised at himself when he realized he meant it.

He hadn't really expected anyone to take him up on it so soon.

The next day Vin had shown up alone, damned Harley making Chris think the Apocalypse had come when Vin roared up the gravel track. He'd been uncertain of his welcome, greeting a very sleepy and barely dressed Chris on the porch with a couple of thermal mugs of Starbuck's coffee and Danish.

"Noticed your barn could use some work, if you ever plan to put horses in there again," Vin had commented.

"Probably so."

"Needs work or you plannin' on getting some horses?" Vin had asked.

Chris had only stared at him then grinned. "Maybe both. Let me get dressed."

It had started so simply, just like that, Vin asking for nothing and doing no more than start regularly showing up to help Chris fix whatever needed to be fixed. Not every weekend and not much comment until Chris realized that Vin wanted and needed not just Chris' sometime taciturn company but the open space. Came to recognize in Vin some of the same needs Chris had when he'd bought a place this far away from the city. Vin had his own small patch of land, Chris knew, a nice place with a battered old RV and small lake -- further out than Chris' place but not nearly as large and with more neighbors.

Chris found himself liking the company. Vin was a hell of a lot quieter than Buck, didn't need to be entertained, and his sly sense of humor started showing up in unexpected ways, the same understated demeanor Chris saw on the job showing up in Vin's personality over the weeks and months that followed.

Vin's friendship had slipped into fill a part of the empty space Sarah and Adam had left without Chris even being aware. He found himself spending more time after work with his team, getting to know them in ways he hadn't before. His anger had eased, his short temper smoothed out, his sense of humor had suddenly emerged and no one was more surprised than his team. They worked together better than before, made fewer mistakes and while Chris still took every injury to one of his men personally, he found himself less likely to beat himself up about it, less likely to find solace in a bottle or on his own. He still carried the brunt of the guilt and the responsibility -- but not alone. Not any longer. Buck became the man he turned to when he needed to be talked out of a rage and Vin the one who was quick to offer a quick kick in the ass when that was needed.

Chris figured he was about as healed as he could expect to be.

"Think we can pull it or we need to use the truck chains?" Vin asked him as they found the first section of fencing needing to be replaced. "Looks like you're getting some drainage through here," he added, using the toe of his boot to kick away a pile of debris near the post they were checking.

Chris reached out and gave the post a shake, hearing wood splinter at the base. He knelt, feeling the sogginess of the ground and tracking the washed out bed of leaves and dying grasses. "Looks like. There's a creek about a mile uphill. Wonder if it's been flooding?" he asked aloud, not really expecting Vin to have an answer.

The softened ground was pretty evident, Chris biting the inside of his lip as he looked from fence to truck. The three lines of wire wrapped and nailed in place on the post were twisted, the lower one already half frayed from wear and tear and rust. "If they'll pull out easily with ropes, probably better. Truck might spin out on this ground and pull the whole damn thing down."

Vin nodded and went to the back of the truck to get ropes and their gloves, and the wire cutters, while Chris checked out the posts on either side and then walked the line a little further. He found six posts in the damaged section including the two that had completely rotted away and fallen over. They'd brought a dozen posts and Chris had no doubt he'd use them. By the time he returned, Vin had already cut the wires free on one side and knotted the ropes around the top of the rotting timber.

Putting on the other pair of gloves, Chris took one side of the rope and Vin the other, both men anchoring the lines around waists and over shoulders to give them the best leverage. Even so, they found the damp ground tough to get purchase on. Finally, though, they heard the wood splinter again and crack and the post snapped free, the sudden lack of resistance causing both men to stumble. Chris went to one knee and hip while Vin ended up flat on his back.

Vin got up quickly though, peeling off the now muddy flannel from his back. "You know...might have been a good idea to bring the horses up," he said, offering a hand to Chris.

"Now you think of it," Chris grumbled. He was soaked from hip to knee but it wouldn't kill him and the sun would dry them both out soon enough. He grabbed a shovel from the back of the truck to dig out what was left of the post while Vin rolled the old one and the attached wire up closer to the next post in the line.

They managed to get the next post out with a little less effort and without another tumble, wrapping the ropes around the Ram's bumper as a makeshift pulley. A little over an hour later they had all six posts free and the holes cleared. Chris reached into the cooler and tossed Vin a bottle of chilled water. They were both sweating, the sun rising high and warm. Vin took a long swallow then peeled off his gloves to pour some cold water onto his hands and raking them through his hair. He grinned at Chris and tossed him the bottle back.

Three hours later they had sunk the new posts and anchored them and strung new wire, carefully wrapping the ends into the old wire. Chris tied on a few bright yellow plastic ribbons to alert any would be hikers there was now a fence here again while Vin loaded up the tools.

Done, Chris headed to the truck, walking slow as Vin stopped to pull his sweat soaked and dirty T-shirt off, then plunge his hands into the ice melt at the bottom of the cooler, splashing face and chest with it and letting out a yelp.

"Got a perfectly good shower at the house," Chris reminded him and caught the beer Vin tossed him.

"Don't like cold showers and it's too hot for a hot one just yet," Vin said with a grin and took his beer and his shirt to the shade of a tree to sit down for a bit. Chris rummaged behind the seat and came up with a blanket, carrying it and his beer to the shady spot Vin had chosen. He nudged his lover with his boot. Vin shifted over and caught the blanket spreading it out on the ground for them to lay on. "And you call yourself a cowboy." He sat again, back against the narrow trunk of the tree.

"Nope. Only you and Buck do that," Chris said and stretched out on his stomach with a sigh, back muscles deciding to protest now that he wasn't really using them any more. "And I wish you'd stop."

Vin chuckled and took another long swallow from his beer. "Suits you, Chris. First time I saw you I was surprised you weren't wearing spurs. Walked like you were."

"Bad knee," Chris mumbled but he smiled. Meeting Vin wasn't a day he was likely to forget for all that it hadn't been that auspicious. It had been a joint operation -- US Marshals and the ATF assisting the DEA on an interstate drug smuggling route that was being run of all places, along the railroad from Denver to El Paso. They'd bagged the shipment but were likely to lose at least a few of the runners until Vin had managed to blow out the tires on three cars in a little under ten seconds from 700 yards away. Six shots, six hits, and Chris had been impressed then, less impressed to walk into the middle of Tanner getting dressed down by his boss.

Turned out it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Tanner wasn't pleasing his bosses a lot -- cited frequently for not following orders. Still, Chris was impressed and a few days after the bust was locked down and solid, and Chris had had a chance to look over the man's personnel file, he'd called him, asked Vin to meet him for dinner.

Vin had suggested a mid-scale restaurant right on the edge of Denver's less savory side but the food had been good and the place obviously populated by regulars.

"That was hell of a set of shots you took, the other day. Nicely done," Chris commented over their salads. "Boss had a bit of a problem, though."

"Thanks," Vin said and shrugged. "Martin's all right -- just don't want any marks against him. He's supposed to retire in a few months. He was afraid I might hit something I wasn't supposed to."

"Like what?"

Vin had smiled a little at Chris' curiosity. "Didn't check out the rail cars close by, did you?"

Chris had to think, summoning up the yard, the four cars the runners had brought, a half dozen enforcement vehicles. There had been rail cars parked on spur lines but he hadn't really paid too much mind to them once the shooting started. Maybe he should have.

"Acetylene," Vin said. "Tank car about sixty feet from the runners."

Now that Vin had said it, Chris could see the car in his mind, see the big warning sign on the side of the rounded tanker.

"Martin was afraid you'd hit it?"

Vin shrugged again. "Maybe. Or that something would ricochet. Would have stopped 'em if it had...but, it would have been a mess."

"Was there a chance you'd miss?" Chris asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't usually."

Chris almost laughed because Vin Tanner was obviously teasing him, with the easy confidence of a man who knew his own skill and the limits of it. "How many times have you missed?"

Vin gave it some thought. "Since I've been with the Marshals? Maybe...twice," he said after a moment. "That's, of course, only counting the times they've given the order to shoot," he added and leaned back as well so the waitress could clear their salads and bring their entrees.

Chris had read the man's file. He was teasing, but he wasn't off his count by much, not stationed as a sniper.

"You've been cited for not following orders," Chris murmured.

"I follow orders. Just not stupid ones," Vin said and turned his attention to his meal, but not before Chris saw the flare of defiance in the blue eyes.

The US Marshals weren't known for their encouragement of free-thinkers and Chris knew, without Vin saying a word, that while the man's abilities were being stifled by his superiors, they hadn't managed to put a dent in his devotion to duty. By the time they finished their meal and Chris was walking Vin out to his car, he'd made the offer.

Vin had been surprised and Chris didn't get an answer right away. Vin had asked for a few days to think on it, but by five the next day he'd gotten a call from Vin asking if the offer was still good.

It was and two weeks later Vin Tanner walked into the 11th floor of the Federal building, dropped off his gear on the empty desk, turned his paperwork into Chris and been introduced to his colleagues. After a day of bureau indoctrination, he'd been given a different indoctrination by his new teammates, Buck Wilmington buying the first round. Chris had left after the third but he'd offered no rescue for his newest man. The next day, in true ATF fashion, Vin filled out paperwork with, what he later admitted was, the worst hangover he'd ever had. Buck Wilmington had been both impressed and proud.

Vin had settled in pretty quickly -- almost as quiet as Josiah but it hadn't taken long for that a same wicked sense of humor that had caught Chris' attention to show up, and both Buck and Ezra had to do some serious fighting to maintain their positions as chief pranksters.

If Vin had been nervous on his first field assignment, it didn't show, and he proved himself right: he could follow orders, as long as they weren't stupid. He also didn't challenge the ones he thought were stupid in any way that would undermine Chris' authority and it wasn't too long before Chris got used to hearing Vin's quiet questions and suggestions in his ear. Even less time to come to rely on them as much as he did Josiah's insights into the criminals they were working against or Ezra's sometimes out of left field but usually accurate estimations of dicey situations.

It was almost as if Vin had been the last piece to fit into a puzzle that wasn't quite whole. At the end of six months, everyone settled and while Buck still held the second in command position in the field, more often it was Vin that managed to listen to everything. Vin who picked up on details Chris might miss in his sometimes overwhelming job of putting the pieces together, and in other ways became both a sounding board and a silent immovable shadow to Chris, watching his back both in the office and in the field.

And Buck had stepped a little to one side to let Chris and Vin's friendship grow without a word or a hint of jealousy. Chris wasn't the same man Buck had grown up with, served with, chased women and adventure with. It had started to change when Chris fell in love and got married. It had changed more when he'd lost his wife and child and what Buck had to offer wasn't what Chris needed any longer -- or at least not all the time. He didn't need to be teased, cajoled or joked out of his moods -- and he didn't really need to escape them by drinking either which was Buck's end-all cure for just about everything. Chris hadn't known what it was and neither did Buck, but somehow Vin managed to fit the now empty space and do it without trying to crowd Buck out of his long standing relationship with Chris.

Vin had managed to just know when Chris wanted company but not necessarily talk. When he needed to be occupied but not distracted. He'd managed to smooth the rough edges without trying.

And gradually, Chris had noticed, between his place on the team, his friendship with Chris and finally finding an organization and a situation that didn't try so hard to make him care more about regulations, bureaucracy and other people's agendas than his job, Vin found a place to belong too.

Chris felt Vin's fingers thread through his hair, the touch soothing and familiar. Meeting Vin had been one of those things that made him actually believe there might be a God after all. Surviving his stint with the SEALs had been the first -- more than once Chris had been certain he really would end up being one of the men who gave his life for his country. He might yet, he knew. Sarah had been the second time and Adam the third and when he'd lost them, he'd lost faith in anything and everything. Buck had managed to bring some of it back, standing by Chris through the worst time of his life. And just when Chris started to breathe again, Vin had come along. He still wasn't entirely sure what this relationship was going to look like -- but he found himself thanking God a little more frequently for it even while he was waiting for it all to be snatched away again.

Being in a relationship with another man hadn't ever been on Chris' list of things to do. He'd never actively avoided it -- it just had never really presented itself as an option until Vin. Just a little over a month ago Vin had admitted that he'd almost turned down Chris' offer to join the team.

"Wasn't expecting it," he'd said after dinner one night, both of them sacked out on the sofa watching something, Vin's head in Chris' lap. "When you called, I thought you were calling to ask me out."

"You mean like on a date?"

Vin grinned up at him. "No, to look at curtains, you asshole. Of course a date. Thought about it when Martin was dressing me down and you had this look on your face. I didn't hear half of what he said."

"What kind of look?"

Vin shrugged. "Dunno...just like you'd been looking for me. I was pretty ready to be found."

"Didn't have a clue, Vin," Chris said softly stroking the dark hair back from Vin's forehead. "Did want you -- just not for that reason. This reason. Not then."

"Took me about two minutes to figure that out. Didn't know you were recruiting though."

Chris thought about it, studying Vin's upturned face, chewing on his lip. "You...you almost turned me down, didn't you? Needed to think about it."

Vin nodded. "Yeah. Had to. Had to make sure I could work with you and not let the other interfere."

Chris smiled at that and bent his head, barely brushing his lips over Vin's. "I think maybe I was lookin' for you for all those reasons and just didn't know it. Glad you took the chance, Tanner."

"Weren't no risk for me, Chris. Still isn't," Vin said and met him more than half way, as he always did. They hadn't done much more talking that night.

Later, laying in bed, Chris watching Vin sleep, he wondered how he could have been so oblivious the first year Vin had been with the team. He had been though. Missed it entirely or more likely, Vin hadn't been putting anything out there for Chris to see, but maybe other people had noticed. In all the times Vin had come to the ranch, spent the weekend, slept in the spare room or on the couch, Chris had been clueless.

And then, he had to admit, just as he thought he and his team were hitting their stride, it had all come apart and he'd been too distracted to notice much of anything but his world coming down around his ears.

Team 7 had been working smooth as silk, a well tuned machine that built up citations and commendations almost as fast as they built up hospital bills. Cases stalled for months suddenly broke and whether by luck or skill or both, Team 7 suddenly had a rep and had set a standard of excellence that other ATF teams found hard to live up to.

Had any of the other divisions bothered to check either the facts or their egos, they might have realized that it wasn't just the team, it was how the team had been put together and who had done the picking. Chris became aware of rumblings and rumors only peripherally. He'd been startled to find himself called up to face a "casual" inquiry into one of his team -- namely Ezra Standish -- to answer for allegations of misconduct and bribery: the same kind of crap that had followed Ezra from the Atlanta division of the FBI a year earlier. Rumor and allegations Chris thought put to bed because there had never been any evidence and no formal charges laid.

Chris wasn't blind or stupid. Ezra could work every angle imaginable including ones no one would have thought of. He'd bend rules, slip around them, but to outright break them, take a bribe or pocket a payoff was so far off the mark, Chris had barely managed not to blast the inquiry board back to D.C. That storm had barely broken when the next came up, this time aimed at Nathan, allegations of misadministering drugs and possibly selling them. Another bit of total bullshit that Chris was having a hard time believing anyone would buy into. Nathan was primarily an agent -- that he had maintained certification as an EMT because of his job had only managed to make the team that much better. In another lifetime the man would have been a doctor if he could have, but he wasn't -- he'd shifted from army medic to law enforcement to the ATF in logical progression of promotions and skill.

Then their cases started falling apart: A suspect was tipped off before concluding a buy Ezra had worked months on. A gang talk-down went horribly badly wrong when nine teenagers showed up with more firepower than they should have had access to. Four fatalities among the teens which made Chris seethe with anger and frustration and guilt. Josiah down and nearly crippled when one of the teens turned on him as having ratted them out when all he'd been trying to do was get them out and away from the drug dealer who was using the boys to front his own activities.

The rumors kept flying, one allegation pegging Buck as having gotten a little too rough with one of his dates, a rumor that left Buck shocked and aggravated when the women in the office started giving him odd looks. Another pegged JD as hacking into classified sites requiring the young man to spend weeks identifying every tracked lead and program that had gone through the ATF computer system since he'd been hired.

Then the rumors started that the only reason Vin Tanner had any business on the team at all was because he was sleeping with his boss, his frequent trips out to Chris' ranch having drawn some attention, plus the fact that where Chris was, usually Vin wasn't far behind.

Chris had been first amused then worried by the allegations. Vin put some distance between them, suffered under private invectives of "faggot" and "cocksucker" and of being "Larabee's lapdog" with a whole lot more calm than Chris thought he'd have managed. But when it came up, when he and Vin were called up to officially deny the allegations, they both were able to do so without a single untruth.

Still, the distance crept in and Chris watched a friendship he'd come to rely on fall apart and with it everything else seemed to fall apart as well. Just when he thought he was back on steady ground.

One case after another seemed to just disintegrate or go wrong. Misinformation, bad leads, missing pieces of information, until JD had, in his never ending desire to perfect his hacking skills, managed to detect the fact that someone was routinely and regularly going through their files. Ezra had found the bugs in the conference room a week later and at Chris' caution let them be.

One call to Orrin Travis and suddenly Internal Affairs was all over them -- for once not trying to dig up the dirt on Chris and his team but on whoever was willfully and deliberately trying to sabotage Team 7's operations from within the ATF and treasury department.

Enough information and Chris had agreed to a sting -- and agreed not to tip off his team. He'd been furious that a dirty agent had been trying to make his own team look bad, endangering their lives. He'd wanted whoever it was so bad, he'd managed to convince himself that the less his team knew the better. IA held their findings too close for him, but he'd agreed and later wondered if it were possible his anger had put his team at more risk than the saboteur.

They set out the bait: A drug bust faked from the first, IA setting up the sting as carefully as any other ATF operation -- or so they'd thought. Ezra hadn't known the "seller" was from within the Treasury department. That was supposed to be it. They'd feed the false information through normal channels and see who nibbled.

The seller waited for the tip off and got it, leading the IA to one Jimmy Nash, an agent passed over three times for promotions because of his devil the details attitude and recklessness. His own boss had kept him on a short leash, and he'd applied for a transfer to Team 7 six months earlier and been denied before Chris even saw the application.

He'd been riding communications and intel since then, his boss hoping he'd understand how important the details he'd ignored were. It hadn't worked and he'd started to think maybe he couldn't get off a desk because there were no slots open on Chris' team. He'd thought he'd make one and try again.

Nash had realized he'd been tagged only minutes before IA got to him and suddenly Chris and his team and the Treasury agent found themselves facing off with jumpy bunch of Denver's finest, who had responded to a "shots fired, officer down call", while Nash slipped his post -- if not his grip on sanity.

The APB on Nash was out within the hour, his apartment watched, the airport, highway patrol alerted -- everything that could be done and even so, Chris knew it was all too easy for a single man to slip out of the area and disappear.

It had taken hours for them to get it sorted out with the police, Chris' team finding out the hard way that the whole setup had been faked and none too happy with their boss for keeping them out of it. It took a tongue lashing from Buck and few short terse words from Vin to make Chris realize he may well have irreparably damaged the very thing he'd been trying to protect.

He'd kicked himself soundly, apologized to the team both as a group and in private then asked them to set it aside and help them clear the black marks from their names and reputations. Then silently promised himself he wouldn't ever lie to them again.

But the specter of failure had been erased and they had all dug in to close those mangled cases with a single mindedness that had become a team trademark. Only the team itself wasn't functioning quite as smoothly. Chris' hadn't trusted them with the truth, agreeing too easily to IA's insistence that until the leak was plugged, everyone was still a suspect

They'd done it though, brought their case closed record back up to par. There were only a few cases left open to close so they could finally banish the last of the persistent rumors that while Team 7 had a great arrest record: wasn't it just too bad that a few of their more high profile cases remained open and my, wonder what could cause that--If not kickbacks or payoffs? And Chris was back to facing the reality of just how easily admiration could turn to envy and suspicion. Nash had maybe been the only one to actively turn that envy into something more dangerous, but it was still out there.

They'd finally managed to get a break on one of their pending cases -- once more going after Reed Wolverton who was using local gang activity to cover up his drug business. They thought it was a done deal -- still cautious and careful, all weapons down and Wolverton in handcuffs when the shooting had started.

Wolverton had been the first to go down in a short burst of automatic weapons fire that sent Chris and Ezra and Buck scrambling for cover, the gang members scattering like mice under the cover fire the ATF agents laid down, not sure exactly who was shooting them.

Vin had been high, keeping to the catwalk in the warehouse, playing eye of god, and before Chris could even ask him, they'd heard the shots and the clatter of metal hitting the struts when Vin's rifle fell from his perch to the ground.

"Vin!" Chris hissed into his headset.

"Missing your lapdog, Larabee?" It wasn't Vin's voice and Chris had looked up, anger and anxiety jockeying for positions in his brain. Nash was up there holding a gun to the head of their already bleeding sharpshooter. Vin still had his flak jacket on but there was blood on his jeans below the protection of the Kevlar. His headset was missing and his hands were securely cuffed behind him.

"There's no point to this, Nash!" Chris yelled.

"Probably not, but then for me, there's not much point to anything anymore, thanks to you. What did I need to do, Larabee? Ask you to fuck me the way Tanner did? Didn't see that one on the transfer application: 'Will fuck boss for favors'."

"Nash, I never saw the transfer request," Chris said, forcing calm into his voice, not daring to watch Ezra move into position or Nathan backing him up. He could hear their whispered plans and prayed he could keep Nash's attention long enough for Ezra to get off the shot. "And this is a whole lot more serious than just messing with our reps."

"Either way I'm going to do some time after giving the better part of my life to this fucking agency!" Nash yelled. "You tell me how that's supposed to make me feel better, Larabee!"

"There's other ways out of this, Agent Nash!" Josiah had called out, shifting Nash's attention from Chris to the ex-preacher. "The Agency takes care of its own and you are one of us."

//Keep him talking, Josiah,// Chris had pleaded silently, knowing the angle was bad for Ezra and cursing the fact that Nash hadn't shifted his gun one inch from the side of Vin's head. Chris had moved then, into the open space, ignoring Buck's hissed warning. "This isn't what you signed up for, Nash," Chris called.

"I wanted to be...I didn't get in this for the paycheck," Nash said, voice shaking with some emotion but all Chris could hear was anger and desperation.

Chris could see Vin's face, see the strain there as he tried to keep the weight off his injured leg. He'd met Chris' eyes, then dropped his gaze and up again. Chris was already screaming Vin's name, screaming warning, afraid Vin planned to take both Nash and himself over the edge of the catwalk.

Vin hadn't been planning anything quite that stupid or suicidal. He did drop though, dead weight throwing Nash off balance. Nash's gun had gone off a split second before Chris, Ezra and Buck opened fire. They were only lucky one of them didn't hit Nash in the head. Body shots had stunned him, even with his vest, and then Ezra had been there, making sure Nash didn't move, Nathan calling JD to summon an ambulance or two and then helping Vin get clear of the dead weight of the unconscious man.

The catwalk looked barely strong enough to hold the weight it now bore but it didn't stop Chris from hitting the stairs two at a time to support Vin while Nathan unlocked the cuffs. "Went clean through," Nathan warned Chris and then it was just a matter of getting Vin down, carried between Chris and Josiah while Buck went up to make sure they got Nash down as well.

"Easier to get him down if he's dead," Buck had spat but Nash was alive. No promises if he'd survive the four bullets he'd taken, but by the time the paramedics had arrived he was still breathing.

"Came through the roof trap," Vin hissed as the paramedics cut the denim away and bandaged the wound enough for transport. Josiah had helped him get the vest off so he could be checked for other injuries. Other than the hole in his leg, a bruise to his jaw and a couple of scrapes from hitting the floor of the catwalk, Vin seemed okay. He was furious though, grabbing the front of Chris' jacket. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Larabee, stepping to center like that? The asshole is a marksman, for God's sake!"

Chris had been startled, but recognized fear masquerading as anger as well as any man. He'd caught Vin's hand, pulling it away from his jacket and folding his fingers around the cold palm. "And I thought you were going to take a header off the catwalk and take Nash with you," he said. "Glad you are smarter than that."

Vin stared at him, Chris pretty sure the younger man saw the same fear reflected in his own eyes. "I'm smarter than that too, Vin. I figured you had a plan, just needed to make sure I knew what it was," he said and grinned.

"Shit," Vin said and looked away. "Swear to God, Larabee, one of these days, I'm going to kill you myself."

Chris had let him go, let the medics do what they needed to and sent Josiah with him then made his preliminary report before heading to the hospital. Vin had been patched up, relegated to a room for observation and been given something for pain. Nash was in critical but stable condition and under guard.

The duty nurse, Caroline, hadn't been surprised to see him. There were days when Chris really thought they just ought to have the ATF pay for the nursing staff at Mercy if only because they seemed to know his entire team by first name, social security number and blood type. Caroline gave him the spiel: Visiting hours would be over soon, yes, Agent Larabee, we can have a cot brought in as needed and can't you boys stay out of trouble?

Vin had been half asleep, Josiah reading to himself, but he got up and went to get coffee so Chris could have a few minutes. Another hour and the team started checking in, Vin suffering through their checks with barely civil amusement. He managed a prelim report, reported one shot fired from his rifle -- somewhere in the roof no doubt, then Caroline came and chased all of them out save one, Ezra this time, so Chris could get started on his reports.

Wasn't in the regs, but it always happened. One of them got hurt and one of them stayed, always, at least the first night or so. Chris had never mandated it but early on he'd been the one to stay until the others realized that spoken or not, that was part of the way Chris Larabee ran his team.

And when it was Chris, the times he'd taken bad hits -- and there had been more than he had any right to have survived -- usually there were two or three of them hanging around.

By the time Chris got back at midnight he was tired and frustrated and a little annoyed. JD had tapes of all the transmissions during the exchange and they'd hauled a transcriptionist out of bed to get the entire tape transcribed before the operational review in the morning. Prelim reports were already done, except for Ezra's, and he promised Chris he'd have it by the review at ten.

Vin was asleep and Ezra shifted to the doorway. "Dropped off a couple of hours ago and hasn't really woken since," he said, his southern drawl as soothing on Chris' nerves as Vin's broader dialect. "Do you need me to procure something more suitable for you to wear tomorrow?" he'd asked.

"I dunno, Ez. Gonna lend me one of your silk suits?" Chris asked, with a grin.

Ezra returned his smile, blue eyes bright with humor. "Possibly something fire retardant. This isn't going to make anyone happy," he said quietly.

Chris sighed. "No. It isn't. Not even me. I never thought there was a something as being too good at your job."

"It isn't so much that we are too good, Chris," Ezra said carefully. "As others are not nearly so competent."

"You were more than competent tonight, Ezra. Thanks."

Ezra, like Vin, wasn't one to let other folks see too much of what he felt, but Chris saw a bit of surprise there. "Get some rest," he said. "It's a prelim report so don't spend too much time on it tonight. I'm sure they're gonna want to wring details out of our brains before this is done."

"Still can't argue the truth," Ezra said. "You certain I can't bring you anything in the morning?"

Chris shook his head and squeezed Ezra shoulders. "Naw. Got clean clothes in my office. I'll change there before the review."

Ezra nodded and left him, Chris leaning against the door for a few moments watching Vin sleep before finally settling into the padded chair beside the bed.

Vin had been released two days later, on crutches but relatively mobile and self-sufficient. He'd opted to stay with Josiah until he was back on his feet -- the four flights to his apartment in Purgatorio a little much to take and Josiah's house had a bedroom on the ground floor. Chris had offered to take him back to he ranch and felt a little hurt when Vin turned him down.

It turned out to be a better choice. The Department was embarrassed and shaken by Nash, all divisions almost immediately rostered in for mandatory psych evaluations -- which most people hated and in some cases, unfairly blamed on Team 7. A.D. Travis stepped in to take some of the heat and some of the flack.

But he couldn't take all of it and the worst of it was that once the tapes were transcribed rumors started circulating about Chris and Vin again.

Chris caught only the edge of it. A few sly comments tossed his way in the bimonthly senior staff meeting. Some ribbing about changing games as a midlife crisis kind of thing from a supervisor who, up until that point, Chris had thought he was on good terms with. Teasing in the gym about Chris needing to keep up with someone younger.

Most of it wasn't actually intended maliciously. It was the kind of teasing that almost said his peers didn't buy the rumors at all --- expressing disbelief by the mere act of making it a joke. It took a while for Chris to realize Vin was catching a much more intense and less face saving kind of harassment.

Not that he could really be blamed for not hearing about it sooner. Vin didn't come running to Chris or to anyone to beg them to have people stop picking on him. After a week with Josiah, he went home and turned Chris down flat for an invitation to come out to the ranch.

The first time had hurt Chris feelings a little, the second time made him a little angry. Vin came to work, did his job although for another few weeks his job was mostly riding a desk, which he hated. Chris was careful not to dump too much of the report work on him -- Vin's file already showed he was dyslexic although he'd managed to overcome the bulk of it on sheer willpower alone. What reports had to be typed, he'd dictated until JD had managed to opt in on a test run for some voice to text software.

After work, Vin would head out, ditching invitations to go out with the team, and even that Chris was first willing to write off to the fact that he was still recovering from his leg wound. By the end of the second week, however, Chris was beginning to wonder how he'd ever thought Vin to be closed mouthed before. Getting more than three words out of him a day that weren't "yes, sir" or "no, sir" took some serious effort. He seemed to be avoiding Chris even more specifically than he was the rest of the team. Asking him what was wrong got Chris nowhere.

Three weeks after they'd taken Nash, Chris finally realized that it wasn't that Vin was angry with him, he was only doing his damnedest to protect him. A scuffle in the gym left a member of Team 4 with a sprained wrist and a black eye and that only because Vin had pulled his punches and the idiot had fallen over a weight bench. Internal inquiry and Vin said only it was some horseplay that got out of hand. Joey Luca had a different story to tell. He'd accused Vin of coming on to him in the gym.

Vin denied it and Chris believed him and with no other witnesses, it had been dropped with a reprimand in both their files. Still, Chris thought it was an ugly sentiment to have started a fight and he couldn't quite see Vin striking out just because of some name calling.

Which lead him to the logical conclusion that there was more to it. A word to Buck and then to Ezra and it didn't take long for them or Chris to realize that the harassment Vin was taking was neither minor nor even of the cruel but harmless kind.

Name calling was the least of it. Chris wasn't surprised at the level of homophobia but it hardly seemed to be the kind of thing that Nash could have instigated alone and then grown so out of hand on its own. Ezra managed to catch Vin covering the seat of his Wrangler with a blanket. Puzzled he'd waited for Vin to head upstairs before checking the open jeep. The wet paint was smeared but "Larabee's Lapdog" could still be made out. Buck observed Vin deliberately shoved twice by other agents, the third time he stepped in and Vin took about two seconds to realize he was being dogged.

"Don't have to take this kind of bullshit, Vin," Buck had said.

"Well, no, Buck, I could file a report with my Supervisor and wouldn't that just make them stop?" Vin had hissed. "Just leave it. Eventually they'll get tired of it." He stalked off and left Buck angry and confused by his reaction. Maybe if Vin had hit Luca a little harder they'd have backed off.

Or Vin would have had another reprimand dropped in his file.

It wasn't how Buck would have handled it, he told Chris, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do if the rumors had been about he and Chris and he was certain there were a few. Laughed them off and Vin had done the same thing when they first started.

However, after talking to Ezra, Buck wasn't sure it wasn't extending outside the building as well. Nothing to do but follow Vin home and they did.

Buck had been to Vin's apartment several times and wondered if the landlord hadn't finally decided that a coat of paint would be a good thing -- only the new paint only covered the hallway outside Vin's door -- and the door had been painted too -- recently, and the lock looked brand new. Nothing much to see and with the full knowledge that Vin might well blast them both, Buck knocked.

Vin had answered the door, tense and wary, relaxing only fractionally when he saw his guests but he didn't let them in.

"I asked you to let it go, Buck."

"Yeah, you did," Buck said. "Nice paint job in the hall, Vin. Redecorating?"

"I'd pick a cheerier color if I were you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said and tried to lean against the doorframe. Vin shifted to block his view and suddenly Buck was shouldering his way past Vin.

Past times Buck would say Vin's apartment was low rent but clean. Neat. He lived on the spare side and the neighborhood alone would be enough to keep Vin from buying anything too expensive.

It had been trashed. There was evidence of a partial clean up, one wall half painted, the other still covered in obscenities and graffiti.

"I take it this isn't a prank by some of your younger neighbors, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked quietly.

Vin closed his eyes briefly and then backed way, dropping heavily onto the sofa and propping his bad leg out on the coffee table. "They're lucky to have enough money to get lunches at school, Ez. Spray paint is expensive. The kids are okay."

Buck was looking still and homed in on a stack of packing boxes and videotapes and a couple of longer packages.

"Someone 's been sending me presents," Vin said as Buck picked up three boxes still sealed in their shrink wrap. Gay porn. Fairly graphic if the descriptions and pictures were anything to go by.

Ezra managed to check out something else and had the big card in his hand before Vin could snatch it back. "Ezra, don't--" he warned.

"Too late, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said softly, glancing at the modified photograph -- also graphic -- of two men fucking. Where the faces of the original models had been someone had clipped out photographs of Chris and Vin and pasted them in place. It looked to be from the photograph Rain Jackson had taken at the Team cookout.

"Stole the picture out of my locker," Vin said and held his hand out. Ezra gave him back the card and the photograph and watched while Vin tore it into small pieces.

"Gone too far, Vin," Buck said, setting the tapes down.

Vin shook his head. "Jesus, Buck...I report this and Chris is going to go ballistic which is just going to add fuel to the fire..."

Ezra sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table. It barely looked sturdy enough to bear his weight. "As well he should. And I'd much rather see Chris go ballistic on the ..." He gestured to the room, "miscreants who've done this damage than see them get any more creative with their harassment. These aren't the kind of men we want to serve with, Vin. And in all honesty, I don't think they are the kind of agents the bureau wants serving."

Vin had only rubbed his hand across his face while Buck and Ezra waited for his decision. "I could go directly to Travis."

"Don't cut Chris out of this, Vin," Buck warned, laying a big hand on Vin's shoulder. "He's feeling shut out enough and trust me, pard, that's cutting a lot deeper than anything these pricks can do."

It wasn't the call Chris wanted to get but he was still glad he had, especially after he reached Vin's place and found the three of them waiting. Vin said nothing at first then shook his head. "Buck said I should call," he said and Chris nodded.

"Buck, get a team up here and somebody impartial to take Vin's statement," he'd said and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Vin to wait.

Hours later the last of the crime scene team had left, no one from Team 7 lifting a finger to help. Formal charges would be laid the next day, based on Vin's information -- names, times, incidents. Chris was only glad it hadn't escalated any further.

Buck and Ezra left when the forensic teams did and Vin finally got up and offered Chris a beer. "Wish you'd said something, Vin."

"I figured they'd stop eventually. Usually do," Vin said, hoisting himself up on the kitchen counter so Chris could have the single bar stool.

"What did Luca say to you? Really?" Chris asked, turning the bottle of beer around on the counter top.

Vin was silent a long time but finally took a breath and drew one knee up, leaning back against the cabinet doors. "He wanted to know if you liked being top or bottom and if I took either position because I liked them or because you were my boss. Then he offered to let me suck his dick and he'd get the others to back off."

"Jesus, Vin. He's lucky you didn't take his head off."

Vin smiled a little and sipped his beer. "I told him yes. He swung first."

Chris stared and then seeing Vin's mouth twitch, started laughing. "Oh, Christ, Tanner. You did, didn't you? Scared the beejesus out of him."

"Something like it. I think I said something about that being in the reg book as soliciting a fellow agent."

Chris chuckled again, wiping at his eyes so he could see and noticed Vin actually looked like he was relaxing for the first time since the shooting. "Vin, I'm sorry..."

"Not your fault, Larabee." Vin cut him off so fast Chris blinked.

"Maybe not but I'm still sorry you had to--"

"Drop it, Chris. Please," Vin said and slid off the counter. "It's done. I should have said something sooner but..." Vin shook his head sweeping his hair back off his face. "It's only going to stop them from ...pulling this kind of bullshit pranks. It's not going to change anyone's mind. People think what they think."

"I guess that's the freedom of speech part of the constitution," Chris said, after a moment. He finished his beer.

"Protect and defend, cowboy," Vin said.

"You want to come out to the ranch?" Chris offered again, looking around at the room.

Vin hesitated and than shook his head. "Paint and lies, Chris. I'm not going to have any trouble sleeping."

Chris had felt that rejection pretty sharply, then was surprised to feel Vin's hand on his shoulder. Man could move quiet as a cat when he wanted to.

"I'll come out this weekend, Chris. Wanted to...before, when you asked, but I thought the less things for folks to talk about, the faster it'd blow over." Vin squeezed his shoulder than dropped his hand.

Chris nodded, accepting the explanation and even understanding a little. He moved a little closer, wrapping an arm around Vin's neck and the other around his back, hugging him tightly for a moment before letting go. "We're a team, Vin. You and me. All of us. Need to remember that."

"Yeah," Vin said and patted Chris' stomach. "Get going, Chris. You've got a long drive unless..." He gestured, crooked smile on his face. "...you want to crash here?"

"I think I'll pass, this time," Chris said, hooking his finger around the back of Vin's neck and shaking him a little. "See you tomorrow." He pulled Vin toward him then, not sure where the impulse came from, to kiss Vin's forehead -- a gesture not so unfamiliar to him a few years before. With Buck, with his brother or father.

He startled Vin though, catching the edge of his mouth when Vin had raised his head. No more than a few seconds had passed before Vin jerked back, eyes wide.

Chris hadn't thought anything of it at first, a little confused by Vin's surprise but figuring he was jittery and tired.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Chris. Thanks," Vin said, looking more composed and he'd followed Chris to the door watching him downstairs and not closing it until Chris turned the corner on the stairwell. Once on the street Chris had glanced up, seen a shadow against the light in Vin's apartment and crossed the street to his truck.

For once, tired as he was, he needed the long drive home. It took half of it for him to let the anger he'd been feeling on seeing the wreckage of Vin's apartment work its way through him. He'd been appalled and disturbed by the obscenities and profanities scrawled on the walls, the tapes and pictures and sex toys Vin had been getting on a fairly regular basis over the last few weeks. No matter what he felt now, he didn't want to be gunning for more than reprimands and jobs on facing the review board the next day. It took another little while to make sure that his anger and frustration at Vin and his single-minded and misguided desire to protect Chris had worked its way out as well. He was angry at Vin but only because the man had been too damn stubborn to ask for help when he needed it. Angry at Vin for shutting him out, for putting his pride in front of their friendship. He was nearly to the last turn-off toward his place before he had to admit that had it been the other way around, he'd most likely have done the same thing. Only, in his case, there would have been a few more bloody noses, black eyes and possibly even some bone breakage along the way.

Not until he'd been pulling up the unlit road toward the house had he replayed the last few minutes at Vin's place in his head. Vin had jerked back like he'd been shocked, scared even, although Chris had a hard time believing Vin Tanner had been scared of a kiss from a friend, even on the mouth. Which it hadn't exactly been.

Jumpy and skittish and no wonder. Probably figured somewhere, someone was taking pictures.

Chris hadn't thought of it again until several days later. The inquiry had gone off easily enough. It was pretty difficult to deny allegations of misconduct when the proof started coming in by the cartload. Credit card slips showing purchases of the porn and sex aids. They thought they had Vin cowed -- and they had been stupid and inexperienced and most of all, hateful enough to be careless. Afterwards, Chris had briefed the whole team and reminded them of the same thing he'd told Vin. They were a team and the fastest way to break them up was if anyone on the team forgot it.

The department issued an official apology to Vin and to Chris. The reprimand was removed from Vin's records and that weekend Vin came to the ranch as promised. They didn't talk much about any of it, took a ride up along the ridge, Chris let Vin cook and then beat him at four out of five games of checkers. He gave Vin plenty of time to be on his own, hoping the near wilderness could smooth out the rest of the rough edges left by stress.

When Vin got home, he found his apartment freshly painted -- Chris well aware of how the rest of the team spent their weekend.

By Tuesday, it looked like Vin was back as he had been. By way of thanks to Buck and Ezra, they found packages on their desks -- Vin sharing his video tape "presents" with a wink and a lot of laughter by the rest of the team.

Buck told Chris later that he'd also gotten tickets to the opening game of the Broncos and Chris was in the parking deck when Ezra found a bottle of fairly impressive looking wine on the front seat of his Jag -- although he seemed more impressed that Vin had managed to bypass not only the locks, but the alarms, than by the wine.

Chris wasn't particularly surprised.

He was a little more surprised to find a set of hand hammer-patterned stirrups arrive on his doorstep a week later with a hand written note from Vin. The stirrups were nicely made and Chris' were worn as was the saddle. But the note meant more, given the difficulty Vin had writing anything down.

He hadn't said anything except thanks the next time Vin came out, new stirrups in place when they went riding.

Chris thought it was settled. The team got back to work, Vin seemed okay. He came out to the ranch but not as often, something Chris didn't notice right off or if he did, tried not to read too much into. But he was far more alert to how Vin's frame of mind worked itself out in behavior. It wasn't the team or the ranch Vin was avoiding -- it was Chris, just not as obviously.

On ops he was still another viewpoint in Chris' ear, at the office he was still finding time to cover the details with Buck when Chris couldn't. He and Ezra seemed to have built a far more solid friendship out of the whole mess and Chris tried to be as understanding about that as Buck had been about Chris and Vin.

But something was still not right and Chris, after spending some time trying to work it out, decided the best way was to ask Vin directly again -- and privately. A month prior Vin had offered to help Chris with some roof work -- and for the first time since they'd met, Chris actively pursued a casual offer made by Vin.

Vin had agreed, following Chris home on Friday after work and tossing his stuff in the spare room, then headed out while Chris started dinner. He was back in only a few minutes.

"Thought I'd lay out the supplies for tomorrow. They in your truck?"

"Have to get 'em tomorrow," Chris said. "It's just one section. Won't take us long."

Vin had shrugged and washed up. Dinner hadn't been much to speak of but afterward they took their cups out on the porch to watch the sun fade.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong this time, Vin?" Chris asked, leaning against one porch support while Vin leaned on the other, sipping his coffee. Chris asked bluntly because he didn't know what else to say or how. "Is this still about Luca and his friends? Nash? If you need time, Vin -- tell me that but if it's something else...I'm a pretty good detective. I might figure it out."

Vin hadn't even pretended not to know what Chris was talking about. "Kinda hoping you don't, Chris," he'd said softly.

That had hurt a whole lot more than Chris thought it would. "If it's something I've done, I'm sorry," he said, pushing through it.

"So am I." Vin had sounded truly distant then and Chris wracked his brain to try and figure it out. What had he done? When was the last time he had made Vin angry? Or even seemed to?

The Nash thing...it took him a minute to pull that back up, Vin so furious that Chris had made himself a target and maybe that was it -- too close and if Chris was likely to get himself killed, maybe Vin couldn't take it any better than Chris would. "Is this about Nash? I swear I wasn't trying to get myself killed, Vin. Just trying to distract him a little so Ezra could get to you. And you got no cause to be sorry -- I'd have ripped you a new one if you'd pulled a stunt like that," he said trying to put a little humor into a conversation that was otherwise awkward and painful.

Vin had let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh and finished his coffee. He set his cup on the railing and closed the distance between them. "No. I'm sorry because I wish it were true."

Chris thought he'd been ready to hear almost anything but he hadn't been prepared for Vin Tanner's hands to catch the sides of his face and angle his head slightly. Vin's palms were still warm from the coffee mug, and his mouth and lips equally as warm when he kissed Chris in a manner that could in no way be confused with a buss on the lips or cheeks between friends. It was over just about the time Chris realized that Vin was kissing him as a lover might.

Vin had backed away, picked up his cup, and gone back into the house.

It occurred to Chris that Vin might have been expecting his boss -- or his friend -- to deck him. Then it took him a few more moments to wonder why he hadn't. Vin's taste lingered on his lips, and another gulp of coffee only reinforced it.

Every inquiry had been denied. Nothing going on, move along boys.

And Vin had suffered through the harassment stoically, without much comment, even after it was over -- as if he'd been through it before. Vin's words in his kitchen, after the ATF lab teams had left them:

//"I figured they'd stop eventually. Usually do."//

Chris figured he needed to pay more attention.

No girlfriends, not much of a social life at all as far as Chris knew, beyond the team, beyond Chris himself. What off hours Vin had he used working in his neighborhood, working with the kids, helping out his neighbors. But not unhappy, and Chris thought he would have noticed that at least. Even he, distracted as he'd been, couldn't be that oblivious.

Vin was in the kitchen, standing at the counter and absently stirring creamer into his coffee. He glanced up when Chris entered, studied his face for a long moment then turned around.

"You're not pissed."

"No," Chris answered and he wasn't. Confused and startled, but not angry.

"I can put in for a transfer," Vin said after another few minutes of silence.

"Now that would piss me off," Chris warned and was glad when Vin smiled a little. "You've got an interesting sense of timing, Tanner."

"Yeah. Just didn't want...just needed you to know it's got nothing to do with you or anything you've done," Vin said finally.

"Vin, when my best friend kisses me like that...I think it's a good bet it's got something to do with me."

Annoyance flickered in the blue eyes and was banished. "I meant, I'll work it out. I'm not exactly pining over here with a broken heart. It doesn't have to affect nothing." He'd sat then, sipping at the coffee but it looked like it wasn't sitting too well, given the expression on Vin's face. He caught Chris watching him.

Vin looked away, gulping his coffee, and Chris watched him, mind churning. He didn't doubt Vin for one minute -- they could go on as if nothing had been said. Might be a little awkward but it would work itself out. Chris had to believe that and did; Vin was too important to him to lose over something like this. It wasn't the first time Chris Larabee had ever been faced with another man's desire -- it was just usually more obvious than Vin's had been. But those kinds of advances didn't run as deep and were easier to turn aside with a smile, no thanks and no offense. Twenty years earlier, faced with someone like Vin, Chris knew he might have even taken him up on the offer, seen a little bit of how the other half loved beyond a mutual jerk-off.

Chris moved behind him, hands easing onto Vin's shoulders, feeling the tightness there. He'd rubbed a little, felt Vin relax fractionally. "Nothing's changed, Vin," he'd said, not knowing what else he could say. Vin accepted that, nodding.

"I'll try not to be so..."

"Careful about what you say?" Chris said and chuckled. "You're always careful about what you say, Tanner."

He'd patted Vin's back, ruffled his hair and then gone to watch some television. A few minutes later Vin joined him and the conversation had picked up on the roof, other repairs and modifications on the ranch and they'd gone to bed.

Chris hadn't lain awake that long but he did get some thinking done, wondering how he could have missed this or if he'd been willfully blind -- willing to let Vin in that much but no closer. But that wasn't fair to either of them. It would serve the damn department right if it were true, he'd though savagely only that would be even less fair to Vin. Let it go, he warned himself and he did.

It didn't stop him from having some pretty interesting dreams, though.

They'd gotten up early enough, took a run to the closest building supply and got what they needed and spent the day with a lot less tension between them as they pulled out old shingles and replaced them. But Chris found himself almost hyper aware of Vin, how he spoke, how he moved, barely acknowledged thoughts washing in and out of the steady physical labor, noting how Vin almost seemed to know when Chris was ready for the next shingle or a break. By mid-afternoon it was hot but they were nearly done, both men stripping down to the waist to finish up.

Chris was no more aware of Vin's body than his own until the moment he realized he was. Their body types weren't that different save Vin tended toward the rangy side, just shy of skinny, but there was nothing scrawny about the mix of muscle and flesh.

For the first time in his life, possibly, Chris Larabee looked at another man without the underlying instinct to size up and compare and found he liked what he saw. Vin caught him grinning.

"What's so funny?" Vin asked, not offended but curious. "Didn't have a damn bird shit on me, did I?" he asked, looking up at the sky, then running his hand through his hair.

"Nope. Just..." Chris let his smile fade. "What if I said I was starting to wish it were true, too?" He hadn't meant to say that quite yet, wasn't even sure he would until the words came out. He realized that there had been a few times in the last year that he had idly wondered if Vin had a sister, or what if Vin had been a woman. A number of similar thoughts had risen and kind of sidestepped the whole idea that, despite their friendship or maybe because of it, Chris was attracted to Vin and just hadn't had the right software, as JD would say, wired into his brain to recognize it for what it was.

Vin sat back, bracing his forearms on his knees and blinking sweat out of his eyes. "This isn't that, middle aged looking for a new pitch to swing at, is it?"

"Jeez, Vin. I don't know. Just never thought much about it. I mean -- doesn't bother me, guys...gays. You being gay -- just never thought of it for myself."

"You do have a rep as a ladies man," Vin said, grinning at him, nothing awkward about the conversation from his side. "And I knew that...pretty much that *me* or any other fella wouldn't really be a problem for you. Being gay."

"You did, huh?" Chris said, oddly flattered by the comment if only because he liked to think he really did believe in the live and let live kind of philosophy -- as long as it didn't mess with anyone else. Or him.

"Wouldn't have signed on if I hadn't. Wouldn't have stayed if I'd turned out to be wrong," Vin said seriously.

"Martin--"

Vin shrugged. "May have suspected. Didn't ask. Didn't want to know, so he didn't." He'd let the silence hang for a long moment before shaking his head. "Hot up here. Let's finish and you can finish everything you wanted to know about queers but were afraid to ask in a room with less heat."

That hadn't been what he'd meant and he found himself a little annoyed with Vin for thinking that it was. Only it wasn't really Vin, he knew, after applying himself to a few more shingles with a bit more force than was probably necessary. What annoyed him was that Vin had pretty deftly turned the conversation away from what Chris was trying to express.

Whatever that was.

The last shingle was in place and Chris hauled up the flat to lower the tools down to the ground, Vin stacking the leftover bits of roofing material together and bundling them with wire. He sat then, waiting for Chris to finish, wiping his face with his shirt before taking a squirt from his water bottle. It left his mouth wet, skin sheened with sweat and dust.

Shit. Couldn't get it off his mind and, while there was curiosity, Chris was damn sure that had more to do with the mechanics than the actual feelings underneath. His jean felt a little snug and his own mouth a little dry.

It was almost as if Vin knew the moment Chris made his decision, sensed it even before Chris moved, bracing himself on the slanted roof next to where Vin sat and reaching down to brush a drop of water from his lips. "Let's try this again while I have a clue and am paying attention," Chris said and it wasn't so much asking permission as warning Vin it was going to happen anyway.

Definitely wet, and hot, Vin doing no more than lifting his head, letting Chris drive the kiss, explore as he wanted. He wasn't passive but he didn't try to grab anything but the roof. Chris knew when he swallowed, sweeping Vin's mouth with his tongue, knowing the flush of arousal and desire wasn't just because it had been too long or Vin was willing. He wasn't entirely sure Vin was willing. His fingers dug into the sweaty hair as he deepened the kiss, Vin sucking on his tongue and sending a visceral thrill through him that his groin surely recognized

Chris shifted to hold him, forgetting where they were until he felt Vin slip, grab for purchase on the roof and not find it. He stopped the other man from sliding by grabbing the inside of his thigh, his other hand making a desperate grab for the roof ridge, holding him until Vin could get his boots under him again. Kiss or near accident, Chris felt Vin's cock harden in his jeans, his own cock starting to protest that maybe he should think about looser denim if he was going to get a hard-on half sprawled on a roof top.

A flicker of the blue eyes and Vin knew how Chris was reacting as well. That slow smile started, and Chris' stomach did a couple of flip-flops.

"Might be willing to die for you someday, Larabee, but this isn't what I had in mind," he said, but deliberately rubbed his crotch against Chris's hand before pulling himself up and away, then heading for the ladder on his butt.

It took Chris a few minutes to recover, watching Vin drop the bundled shingles to the ground before gripping the ladder.

"Vin," Chris said, sucking air softly. "This is more than curiosity."

Vin only grinned at him again. "Maybe. Curiosity works, though," he said and then disappeared. By the time Chris got down, Vin had gathered the tools and was carrying them toward the barn.

Sneaking up on Vin wasn't easy and Chris wasn't trying. Vin shelved the box and turned to meet him, the barn a whole lot cooler than outside.

Vin hadn't done anything more besides unsnap his jeans and let out a breath as the restriction on his cock was eased.

Chris didn't need any other kind of invitation. The man was definitely being a tease and the smirk on his face only lasted a moment before Chris wiped it off with his own mouth. He kept just enough distance between them to allow him to unfasten his own jeans, groaning against Vin's mouth when his partner's far steadier fingers helped.

Vin tugged them back until his back to hit the barn wall, shoving Chris' jeans down over his hips, touching him, stroking him, kissing mouth and jaw and then shoulder before dropping. It was all Chris could do to stay upright, hands braced on the wall, when Vin's mouth and hands covered his throbbing dick with wet heat and applied just the right amount of friction.

It had been too long or Vin was really good -- Chris in no condition to judge as his hips flexed involuntarily, spine arching to thrust against Vin's curled fingers and his mouth. He'd bucked and groaned, warned Vin and then groaned again as Vin took him deeper, swallowing around his cock, milking him until he was dry and trembling.

Then he'd held him, rubbing against him while Chris recovered, Chris only coming to his senses in time to realize Vin was close. He kissed him again, wrapping his hand around the younger man's cock and stroking until he felt Vin's body stiffen and shake, then felt wetness on his belly and hip

His turn to hold Vin up and wait for the soft moist panting against his shoulder to ease into more regular breathing. He'd stroked Vin's hair back, but Vin let him give only a lingering touch before he pulled back. Chris was not surprised to see him smiling still.

"Still curious?"

Chris only smiled and nodded his head. He could walk away now and not hear a word about it. No strings. Might be Chris' style but not Vin's -- not as far as Chris knew.

"I do like to study up on subject..."

"Thorough," Vin said nodding. "Must be why they pay you the big bucks. Want me to wash your back?"

Vin had done that and before he'd left late Sunday night, Chris had gotten quite a crash course on what Vin Tanner liked and didn't like -- and learned a few things about himself too. Vin warned him about trying to make up for a couple of years of celibacy in a few hours but he'd been laughing when he said it -- then admitted he had some catching up of his own to do.

They'd only talked about the work versus sex issue once -- and it was more like mentioned.

"I think they've been embarrassed enough by what's gone before," Vin said. "Aren't likely to ask again. Not soon anyway."

Chris had to agree. They hadn't lied when they'd been asked -- if they were asked again, sometime, he'd see how the land lay then.

And Vin seemed more than willing to keep it casual. Most of his experiences had been. Better with someone he was friendly with, but he wasn't, he informed Chris, asking to be set up with a nice apartment and a car and a bank account. It was sex, it was fun, Chris turned him on and that was all there was to it.

It had remained that way for a couple of months. With the last of the tension between them set aside, they got back to work. Vin came out to the ranch no more or no less than he had before. If any of the other boys showed up, they'd watch TV, get some work done, play some cards and sometimes Vin would head home and sometimes he'd stay.

In the field Chris cussed out or praised Vin no more or less than he had before. It was as if the moment they walked into the office there was switch that got turned off. The teasing and horseplay was still there but there were no loaded comments or guarded looks from Vin.

Chris wasn't sure when it had changed or how or if he'd changed first and Vin had followed or if it had been Vin all along, just waiting for Chris to puzzle out the rest of it. They'd kept their bedroom activities simple at first, moving into uncharted territory for Chris slowly. Vin loved to suck Chris' cock and the first time Chris returned the favor, it wasn't so much the pleasure of the act -- although he was surprised that that was there too -- but the fact that he could reduce his normally quiet lover into a incoherently mumbling puddle of reaction and response with so little effort.

It hadn't been until he actually first fucked Vin that he realized the man did have some words saved up after all. He was pretty sure he could get Vin to confess to all kinds of things from the murder of Jimmy Hoffa to the whereabouts of Amelia Earhart if he did it slow enough.

Chris had tried half a dozen times since then to pin it down but there wasn't any single moment, any sudden crisis or near miss that had triggered the slide from fuck-buddies to lovers, from sex to lovemaking. It didn't happen the way it had happened with Sarah which was sudden and breathtaking and never a look back or thought if it made any sense. He didn't wake up one morning and decide he was in love with Vin or Vin with him.

That's just the way it was.

"Sun's settling, Chris," Vin's voice woke him from a half doze, soft words and the softer stroking in his hair easing him back to here and now. "You're gonna get stiff laying there."

"Yeah, but if I died here, I'd be a happy man," Chris grumbled. Vin's chuckle brought him full out of his doze and into the realization that the ground was hard and a little damp. A swat on his butt and he felt Vin move.

He wasn't actually any more sore than he'd expected for all the hauling and digging they'd done. His knee twinged a little as he rolled to his side and got up, stretching his back. Sun was settling and a hot shower would feel good. Vin grabbed the blanket while Chris got their empties, all tossed into the back of the truck.

He could see the edge of the house when his pager went off and Vin's as well. Vin pulled out his first, tilting the small case so he could read the message." 'Got a lead on Juarez. Nate'," he said and a moment of fumbling let Chris get his own out with the same message.

"'Bout fucking time," Chris growled and pulled his phone out for Vin to dial.

"Nathan, Vin. At Chris'. What have you got?"

Chris could only listen, pulling the truck up and parking next to the porch while Vin talked to Nathan.

Chen Maria Juarez, bastard son of a Venezuelan business man with ties to black-market gun running post world war two and the daughter of a Japanese-American entrepreneur. Juarez had done most of his dealing in South America and the Pacific rim until his name popped up some ten years ago as a possible supplier to the Iraqis during Desert Storm. He'd been flagged and watched for years, everyone from the ATF to INS to the Department of the Interior trying to find something to hang on the man for twenty years. And six years ago he'd shown up in Denver -- bought an old ski resort on the side of a mountain where he could see the city and been eluding prosecution ever since.

It had been one of those cases that had fanned the rumors -- why Team 7 couldn't bring Juarez in unless, maybe, just maybe he was making it worth their while not to. As far as Chris knew, his team was just one of the ones in line to nail the man on any charge: Gun-running, smuggling drugs. . Maybe smuggling illegal aliens into the country. Up front Juarez ran a whole string of resorts and dive shops catering to vacationers and travelers to the Gulf of Mexico and beyond. He sponsored charitable events and with his American citizenship guaranteed by his mother's treatment during WWII, his political contributions were courted like virgin school girls.

Ezra had spent most of the last year carefully working his way into the periphery of Juarez's business contacts, letting the man get used to him gradually because no other undercover agent had managed to get any closer and lived to talk about it. His own people were loyal to the death and that was a literal statement. No ex-girlfriends to try and work on, no disgruntled employees. Juarez paid well and he expected total loyalty. There were no degrees of it. And nobody got a second chance.

"Thanks, Nate," Vin said, clicking off, turning to Chris before he could ask. "Denver vice picked up a kid...drug bust, totally routine. Kid was freaked though -- stoned out of his mind, but he starts accusing the blue boys of working for Juarez...of planning to kill him. By the time they got him sobered up and talking sense, some very bright Vice guy ran an interagency query and up popped our flag. They think it's for real, Chris. Kid was with Juarez as of two days ago. He may be our ticket in."

"Only ticket we got," Chris said and the two of them hurried to get cleaned up and head back to Denver. The weekend was over.

~end part one~