Raven

This continues straight on from Promises to Keep, and will make very little sense without having first read that. To everybody who emailed me to let me know they liked Promises -- thank you! I guarantee this would have been longer in the works if I hadn't known you were waiting! Notes etc re research apply as before. My sincere thanks to the writers of LB stories, who started me off on this trail.

Oh, and my apologies to Jamestown Community Hospital.

---

2 pm, Jamestown Community Hospital

He was warm. Warm and dry. Something soft and cozy was wrapped around him and it smelled safe, like aftershave and sweat. Like home. Dimly he could hear a steady, muffled thumping sound, and burrowed closer to the warm, firm pillow under his ear, smiling contentedly. Gradually he noticed other sounds, intriguing beeps, people talking at a distance and further away other children laughing. He tried to turn over and something stopped him.

"Stay still, JD," Chris's voice rumbled right above his other ear and he realised that he was lying squished up close to somebody. Someone who smelled like Chris. He rubbed his face against him affectionately and opened his eyes.

He found himself staring straight at a wall. He wriggled until he could see more, pulling on the grip around him until he could see the man holding him.

"Wha' ya doing here, Chris?" he asked, not awake enough to be polite, and yawned.

"I'm hanging onto you, trouble, making sure you don't go anywhere." Chris said lightly.

"Oh. *Oh*." His eyes went wide as memory flooded back. "Chris, Chris, didya shoot them? Didya?" He twisted round to peer up into Chris's face, and found him smiling faintly down at him.

"Shoot who?" Chris lifted him until he was sitting upright on his lap, wrapped up safely in his arms.

"The bad guys that stole me and made me talk to a camera and left me in a *dungeon*." JD bounced once, and stopped. "Ow! That hurt."

"I did say to keep still." Chris reminded him. "Have you seen your leg?"

"I broke it," JD pronounced dismally, staring down at the blue cast encasing his lower right leg. "Bummer."

"John Daniel, where did you pick that up?"

JD bit his lip. "I'll put a quarter in the jar," he said meekly, raising every one of Chris's finely honed parenting hackles.

"JD."

"Um. One of the bad guys said it?"

"J., D."

"At school?"

"If you can't tell me the truth, young man..."

"Buffy."

"When did you see Buffy?"

JD turned incautious eyes around the room until they lit on Uncle Ezra.

"Standish?"

"I have no idea what he is talking about," Uncle Ezra lied with conviction. "Anyone for chocolate?"

"Me! Mememememe!" JD shouted.

Uncle Ezra left in a hurry.

"I don't think chocolate is such a good idea, kiddo." Chris warned, tucking him back in close, and pulling the blankets up around him even though he felt warm enough already. He pushed at the blankets until they slid sideways off him, and Chris sighed, and patiently tugged them back onto his legs. "Don't do that. You need to stay warm."

"Oh, it won't hurt him, Chris," Nathan said cheerfully. He lifted all but one of the blankets and folded them neatly at the end of the bed and winked at JD. "Bit of chocolate might even help."

"Traitor," Chris muttered, and JD giggled.

"Where's Da?" he asked a moment later, the giggles fleeing as if they had never been.

Chris's arms tightened around him, and he twisted until he could look back up into his eyes. "He's still in court, remember? But we're all here, and we're going to stay until he can come, or until we can all go home."

"Oh." His head drooped as he thought about that for a moment or two. He didn't see the look of pride on Chris's face when he gave a little sigh and added, "Okay."

"How are you, JD?" Uncle Josiah asked, hunkering down to smile at him.

"Fine," he said with a shrug. He closed his eyes and relaxed into Chris's grip until another thought hit him and he jerked upright. "Dad, where's Vin? Did they get Vin too? Where's Vin?" He looked around wildly but couldn't see his big brother. "Did they hurt him? Vin!"

"JD--" Chris tried to calm him.

"Vin!"

Chris held JD firmly and shook him slightly. "Calm down! Vin's fine."

"Where is he?" He was still panicky, his eyes full of fearful anticipation.

"He's fine. I promise you."

Uncle Nathan leaned in to join the conversation, "JD, Vin's at home. Mrs. Potter's watching him, and there's a couple of nice police officers there too to make sure he stays okay."

JD looked from his uncle to Chris, who nodded, and JD looked back at Nathan. "Are you sure?"

"Pinkie swear," Nathan held out his little finger, and JD hooked his own around it.

"You're sure you're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure I'm sure." he said with a gentle smile.

"Okay then," he subsided back into Chris's hold. He pinched a piece of shirt and twisted it between his fingers. "I just thought they might've tooken--"

"Taken," Chris corrected quietly.

"Taken him too and not told me or somefin'."

"No. They only took you."

"Taked," JD murmured, and Chris shook his head.

"Took."

"Okay." He nodded and repeated, "Vin's okay?"

"Vin's missing you, but he's fine." JD frowned and Chris growled a little, "I mean, Vin is really fine, instead of *your* version of fine which includes broken bones apparently."

JD giggled, and quietly settled again.

"Wanna go home," he whispered after a little while. The arms around him tightened and he felt a kiss pressed into his hair, and Chris whispered back, "Me too, kiddo."

------------------------------------------------

Sanchez sighed and shifted again in the uncomfortable little chair, watching his stone cold boss cuddle a small, drug-fogged boy. After all the rushing around this seemed almost anti-climactic. Not that he was ungrateful that the boy was safe and relatively speaking, well. His boss looked up and caught his expression as he tried to find a comfortable position on the chair without not disturbing the kid.

"Why don't you go talk to the police?" Chris suggested, his eyes shrewdly assessing his state of mind. "See if they need a hand." He threw a glance at Standish, dozing in a chair the far side of the room, arranged to catch maximum sun. "You can take him with you." He jerked a thumb at Standish. "He needs the exercise."

Josiah grinned and nodded. He stood and stretched, then reached a long arm across to haul Standish off the chair. The man came up fighting, but Josiah dodged easily, and nodded to Larabee.

"We'll let you know what we find." He virtually dragged Ezra from the room, who yawned hugely, and mumbled something about coffee.

"You can have hospital coffee now or police coffee shortly," Josiah told him callously. Ezra stopped at the next vending machine and nursed the burnt black brew until they reached the Jamestown police HQ.

"Agents Sanchez and Standish, to speak to the officers investigating the Dunne kidnapping," Josiah produced his badge but the man on the desk barely looked at it before waving them through. He shook his head in wonder. In Denver there would have been at least a ten minute wait to confirm their identity, and the mere fact of their lack of an appointment might well have held them up another hour.

"Third floor, and second left into the main office. You're looking for Brown. Or Caverty, if he's not around."

"Thank you, officer," Ezra drawled, and stumbled after Josiah when he tugged hard on his arm reprovingly.

"Make nice, Standish," Josiah said firmly, wondering how in god's name he was going to enforce that if Standish decided to play the city boy in Hicksville.

------------------------------------------------

2pm Jamestown PDHQ

"Caverty speaking." Jane picked up the phone ringing on Adrian's desk, and grabbed pen and paper.

"Morning Jane, Hank at front desk. I was trying to get hold of Ade. He there?"

"Stepped out for a minute."

"Right. Only I just sent a pair of ATF guys upstairs to meet you two."

"ATF?" She blinked. She'd been expecting another call from the Denver FBI guys. They'd been talking about sending someone over from Fargo or Bismarck, as Jamestown didn't rate its own FBI office, but nothing had come of it yet, and as the kid was safe they didn't seem hugely concerned about rushing up there. They had promised an FBI trained child psychologist to talk to the kid, but she knew better than to expect that to happen quickly.

"Said they were here about that kidnapping you guys solved."

"Oh. Ohhh, wait, wait, were their names Larabee or Wilmington?" She flipped through the papers until she found the FBI notice. Yeah, there they were. That's where she'd heard ATF recently, the kid's fathers. Damn, if she had a couple of ATF parents pounding up the stairs to find out what they was doing on the investigation...

"Nope. Got a Sanchez and a Standish."

Well, that was good and bad. Good that she wasn't going to be dealing with a pair of federal agents who were potentially also panic-stricken parents. Bad because she was still none the wiser. "Odd." She glanced up the corridor and spotted two strangers emerging from the elevator. "Oh, hey. They a big guy and a skinny little guy?"

"That's them."

"Got 'em. Thanks, Hank."

Jane put the phone down and checked over her desk quickly for any material these guys shouldn't see. A couple of the photos of the kid were lurking, and she turned them face down as she stood to greet the approaching men. "Agents?"

The two men paused, the smaller of them smiling at her. "We are looking for an Officer Brown, or an Officer Caverty." The man's deeply southern accent surprised her, and she found herself smiling at the lilt of it.

"Well, you found Caverty. Jane Caverty. Adrian Brown's not at his desk at the moment." She stuck out a hand which the first man took and shook, smiling into her eyes. He had the oddest green eyes, and held her hand for just a moment too long.

"Ezra Standish. And my colleague is Josiah Sanchez."

Sanchez leaned forward to offer a large hand with a strong, bony grip, and she nodded at him. "Pleased to meet you, sirs. How can I help?"

The men exchanged glances, and she sighed with relief as she caught sight of Adrian walking back up the corridor.

"We would like to offer our assistance in any capacity following up the kidnapping of young John Daniel Dunne," Mr. Smooth and Southern said.

"Hey, Brown," she smiled gratefully at her partner, "These are Agents Standish and Sanchez, with the ATF. Adrian Brown, my partner, and the senior officer on the case," she smiled as she callously threw her partner to the wolves.

Adrian's dark eyebrows drew together briefly, and he shook the men's hands. "Gentlemen. How can we be of assistance?" His glance at her told her exactly what he thought of her little tactic for getting out of talking to the feds, and she grinned happily back at him.

"We were in fact wondering exactly that," Standish spoke and Caverty found herself watching Sanchez as his eyes slid around the room while his partner spoke. He missed nothing, the lines on his face deepening momentarily as he spotted the kidnapping bulletin and the hospital picture pinned to it on their 'success' wall.

"Mr. Sanchez and I would like to offer our assistance in following up the Dunne kidnapping," Standish reiterated. "As I was about to say to your fair partner, Mr. Sanchez and myself are from the Denver ATF, and find ourselves with some time on our hands, and a burning interest in locating and detaining the miscreants who dared to take--"

"Ez."

Standish smiled. "I beg your pardon. We would like to render any assistance possible."

Brown looked back and forth between the two of them, then met Jane's eyes. "Can I see some proof of ID?"

The two men held out their ATF badges, and Brown took them. "If I may?" he asked politely. "I just want to make sure I'm talking to the right men," he said. "Can I offer you some coffee?" Both men shook their heads. "Wait here please."

He walked away into the research room, and Jane watched as he called up the federal employees database. After a few minutes he reappeared, smiling. He handed the badges back. "Thank you, gentlemen."

"Commendable," Standish murmured, and winced. Jane glanced down and caught Sanchez' foot settling back on the floor, and suppressed her grin.

"If you'll follow me? Jane, bring the case file."

Jane scooped the paperwork up into a folder and trailed after the three men as they headed in to one of the interview rooms. There were real disadvantages to being the junior partner.

"Nothing personal, Agents," Brown said as they settled into chairs around the oval table. "But I would like to know your angle in this? I was expecting the FBI, not a couple of guys from the ATF."

"Well, undoubtedly our esteemed colleagues with the Federal Bureau of Investigation would have--"

"What he's planning to say eventually," Sanchez interrupted with a resigned look at his colleague, "is that we work with the boy's father. Kid's like a nephew to us, both of us. JD's safe with Chris Larabee, his guardian, our boss, and we'd like to help find the scum that took him."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "I would have said it with far greater regard for the tender nuances of courtesy and language," he chided.

Jane grinned, and jerked a thumb at Ezra, "He means he'd'a said the same thing so twisty we wouldn'a known we was coming or going?"

"Pretty much," Sanchez grinned.

"And if we don't require your assistance at this time?" Brown asked, his voice neutral. "Bearing in mind that the ATF has no jurisdiction in kidnapping cases. We don't need any cowboys stomping around looking for revenge. No offense."

"None taken. Doubtless we would withdraw politely, and proceed to duplicate your sterling efforts, and waste both our time and energy." Standish told him, then turned to Sanchez, "You perceive I can in fact be laconic should the need arise."

"I don't know I'd call that laconic," Brown said with a small smile.

"More to the point, we believe that it relates strongly to a case that the ATF has recently brought to trial, and may have been carried out by some key figures in a weapons and drugs ring," Sanchez intervened.

Brown assessed Sanchez thoughtfully. "Okay, then." He nodded to Jane. "Want to show them what we have so far?"

She opened the file and spread out the contents. "Pictures of the child -- they're kinda disturbing," she warned as Standish reached out to pick them up. His hand barely hesitated and he flicked through them grimly.

"Damn. I didn't realize -- young Master Dunne was in a nightshirt, under blankets when I saw him," he said softly, passing each picture after he'd seen it to his colleague. "I thought -- I had hoped."

Genuine emotion broke through the slick mask and Jane suddenly warmed to this man who cared so badly about a little boy.

"Souleater take them," Sanchez rumbled. "Soulless, unhuman bastards." He gripped Standish's shoulder briefly, then neatly squared the pile of photographs, ordering them until one with the boy's sleeping face, the bruises on the one side nearly obscured by a blanket, rested on the top.

"The kid was picked up by a couple of guys who'd been fishing. They pulled him out of the river, realised there was something hinky going on, and brought him here," Jane summarized, and the others nodded.

"We understood as much."

"We're not entirely clear where the child entered the river, but we don't believe it could have been far, on the basis that he is relatively small, and pretty young, and the river is high." She was tactful enough to not mention an earlier discussion with Adrian, when they had agreed that he would almost certainly have drowned had he been in the river for any significant length of time.

"He swims well for a six year old." Sanchez observed. "Don't underestimate him."

"Okay. Well, anyway, on the map," she unfolded it and spread it on the table, "here is where Gilles and Wedden say they pulled him out." She tapped a point on the James River. "They fish at this spot regularly so they were pretty certain of its location."

"Where's the Hennessy Paper Mill?" Standish asked, inspecting the river's course avidly.

"Hennessey's? Here." She pointed to the symbol indicating buildings upstream from the spot where JD had been rescued. "About ten, fifteen miles up the river. More like twenty or thirty if you have to go by road."

"Why Hennessy's?" Brown asked intently.

"Various reasons. The ransom tape shows JD in a warehouse storage area of some sort, the shelves hold boxes of Enster computer paper."

"A lot of people buy it up here."

"How many of them are related to Ric Kemp?" Standish asked pointedly.

"Kemp?"

"He's on trial in Austin for--"

"Gun running and human slave trade," Caverty interrupted, looking from Standish to Brown and then back. "It was in all the papers when the trial started, Mrs. Hennessy is a big landowner, and well liked up here. It was one heck of a scandal when it all came out."

"How does Kemp come into this?" Brown said patiently. "Being related to a man on trial isn't a crime."

Sanchez' face hardened. "Wilmington -- the boy's father, he's one of the star witnesses." Sick comprehension dawned on the two police officers' faces. "The ransom tape -- the kidnappers had JD tell his father that if he went ahead and testified, he'd never see JD again."

"They got the kid to --" Caverty swallowed and stopped, her eyes resting on the photograph at the top of the pile. "Damn."

"Okay, I see the connection. You guys were on the Kemp case. I can see you'd want to be involved in this." Brown conceded. He measured out the distance with a ruler, "He'd've had to have traveled nearly thirteen miles down the river. Is that likely for a six year old, however strong a swimmer?"

The others looked at the map.

"It's a reach, but he patently survived the experience. Let us perhaps not dwell upon the supposed impossibilities before us, but on the evidence."

"But how did he get up here?" Brown protested, "Why would she allow them to use her warehouse? There's no reason to assume that she knew about it -- it could have simply be convenient..."

Sanchez shook his head once. "No. Kemp's smarter than that. And so's the man currently in charge of his operations, Seth Charles."

"My money would be on finding that particular venomous reptile at the bottom of this woodpile," Standish agreed. "No, there's some particular reason they ended up here."

"The thing that puzzles me," Sanchez frowned at Standish, "is it has Kemp's viciousness, but I'm getting a real amateur feel off of the way it played out. They shouldn't have brought him here. It was too damned easy to find."

Standish nodded. "If Mrs. Hennessey was involved in the decision to bring JD up here, that could explain it," he speculated.

"You still haven't convinced me that Lisa Hennessey was involved," Brown shook his head. "I'll buy this Charles guy, I'm guessing you guys have some personal knowledge of him," the two ATF agents nodded grimly, "but Hennessy..."

"Also," Standish added, "I don't know if they've contacted you, but we had word from the FBI unit investigating this in Denver that Mrs. Hennessy's regular flight from Aspen to Jamestown went from Denver on Thursday morning at eleven. Three passengers, no children, but a large amount of 'fragile baggage' was checked through. I suspect that Hennessey was persuaded to participate in some fashion, and insisted on keeping the child with her, for unknown reasons."

"Doesn't sound good for Mrs. Hennessey," Jane shook her head slowly. "Adrian, you've gotta admit the evidence is pretty much against her."

"We've heard from McKinnon's team, but we haven't had much actual material through."

"Typical of the FBI," Standish muttered, and Caverty's eyebrows rose.

"She said something about sending an agent up from Denver, but unless Jane's heard something," Jane shook her head and Adrian went on, "we haven't had any further updates. For god's sake, why would Hennessey get involved in something like a kidnapping? It makes no sense, even if Kemp is her brother."

Sanchez's face hardened. "I guess we're going to have to ask Mrs. Hennessy that. And while we're at it, a couple of search warrants for her home and the paper mill premises wouldn't go amiss."

------------------------------------------------

3.30 pm Hennessy Paper Mill

Lisa Hennessy felt sick. It had all been so straightforward, so simple. And it had been so astonishingly easy to do. And now...

She closed her eyes and quelled her nausea, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. In, two three, four... out two, three four, five, six, seven, eight.

"Mrs. Hennessy?"

"Tell them I will, no, I'll, no, Loretta, tell them I'll be down immediately, and find me a meeting room. Enough for all of them."

"All of them?"

"*All* of them" she gritted out, and consciously tried to relax her jaw.

"Yes, Mrs. Hennessy."

She put the phone down and stood, smoothing down her skirt suit, straightening her jacket, tucking back flyaway strands of fair hair. She glanced herself in the window as she passed. She'd do. She wished she had a moment to freshen up, but she didn't dare take the time. Or did she?

She paused with her hand hovering above the call button. Perhaps if she took her time she'd look like she wasn't worried. Or maybe it would look like she was being arrogant, and they'd get angry. Or--

Irresolute, she bit her lip, her nails digging into her palms. What to do? If they searched they'd find the room. God, how stupid! And she didn't even have the boy any more. What was she going to do? What could she say?

She pushed the button and drew a deep breath. She'd tell them everything.

------------------------------------------------

3.30 pm Hennessy Paper Mill, ND

Jane Caverty and Adrian Brown were accompanied by the two agents from the Denver ATF. Somehow the bigger one, Sanchez, had ended up running the operation to visit Hennessy's Paper Mill. Jane stole a quick glance at him. He was huge, far too tall and broad to move as noiselessly as he did. She supposed that he ought to be in charge, although it stung to lose her case to a fed. Certainly that was how he had won the argument with Brown and their boss Lieutenant Lisker. Standish by contrast was so much slighter than he managed to look almost delicate next to Sanchez, despite the broad shoulders, muscular build half hidden under a well cut suit, and cold, deadly air about him.

"Taking her time, isn't she?" Josiah murmured softly, and Jane jumped. "Sorry," he added, with a faint smile, and Jane nodded.

The hallway was empty. For a weekday afternoon that was just plain unlikely. The receptionist eyed them with something between disdain and anxiety, her immaculately manicured nails plucking at her equally immaculate grey hair.

"Can I get you a coffee?" she asked them. They all refused and the silence continued.

A chime from the elevator area had them all turning, so they all saw Lisa Hennessy's momentary hesitation before she walked out, smiling confidently, a hand outstretched to Sanchez. Her blue eyes met his squarely.

"Agent Sanchez?" She shook hands politely when he nodded, and followed up with the rest of them. "Agent Standish, officers. Please, this way," she gestured down a corridor.

The receptionist mouthed, "The Venetian Room, Mrs. Hennessy," and the barest nod acknowledged the woman's instructions. She ushered them into a room that overlooked a vista of open grass and a river drifting in the distance.

"Please, take a seat. Would you care for a drink?" They refused again, and she settled at the head of the table, smoothing her skirt with quick fingers before catching them together and folding her hands quietly in her lap. "How can I help?"

Agent Sanchez remained standing, and Standish stayed leaning by the door, watching her with eyes that glittered unnervingly. "Mrs. Hennessy, we have reason to believe that a serious crime has been commissioned and executed by someone on these premises. We would like your permission to search this building and any associated buildings."

"What, what sort of crime?" Her voice was perfectly calm and composed after the initial stumble, and Caverty watched in interest as her hands tensed, the knuckles going white.

"A kidnapping. The child was found early this morning, and we have strong evidence that it was here, or somewhere very similar that he was held."

"Oh!" One hand flew to her mouth and all three caught the relief in her eyes, "Oh, the poor child. Is he all right?"

Sanchez shook his head solemnly, and Caverty caught a flash of calculation in his eyes. "He's in hospital presently, I understand." A little of his anger rumbled underneath his even tones, and her shoulders hunched, visibly wilting.

"Oh, how, how terrible." She clenched her hands back together. "Of course, if there is anything my people can do to help track down whoever committed this terrible crime, please. Yes."

"Do we have your permission to search the premises?" Caverty could see Sanchez fingering the search warrants in his pocket as he asked, ready to produce them.

"Yes, yes, of course." She looked down and then up again, squaring her shoulders and drawing a deep breath. "But first, I think perhaps I had better explain some things."

"Mrs. Hennessy, please be careful what you choose to say at this time," Brown said gently. "I strongly advise you call your attorney before you say anything."

"No. No," she said firmly, holding the federal agent's eyes steadily. "I, I might as well take my medicine."

"Officer Brown?" Josiah made a half turn to look at Brown, who rose and moved to her side, and read her her rights.

"Do you understand these as they have been read to you?" She nodded, and he carried on, "You're not under arrest at this time, but if you want us to stop, or call an attorney at any time, that is your right," he added.

"I understand." She stared at the plain beige linen of her skirt and twisted her hands together.

"What did you want to tell us?" Jane asked gently.

She sniffed, and cleared her throat. "I despise tears. Excuse me." She dabbed at her eyes with a finger, and started, never looking up.

"Ricky is my brother. You know that? Richard Kemp. He's, he *was* on trial."

"He still is," Standish spoke unexpectedly from the other side of the room. She glanced up, startled, she'd almost forgotten the fourth man was there. His gaze never faltered, and she looked away.

"Good, that's, good. He, oh dear, this seems so stupid now, and at the time it seemed so impossible."

"Mrs. Hennessey?" Sanchez said patiently.

"I'm sorry, I'm not being very clear, am I?" She glanced up, and then back down again.

"He, I. His son, Kyle. I've been looking after him. My husband and I couldn't have children, and Richard's mistress had one, and they didn't want him. She was quite happy to be paid off. I -- we adopted him ten years ago. My husband died not long afterwards, Kyle was only four but it was fine, it wasn't a problem." She looked up. "He's a dear little boy. And Ricky said -- and I couldn't bear it. So I did what he said, and he promised me he would stay away this time. Except it has all gone wrong. It's all so very wrong. I knew that, you see." She swallowed hard. "I wanted to be sure he would be safe. That's why I came too. I didn't know they were going to--what they were going to do. I'll give you their names. Anything. My poor little Kyle. That poor little boy."

The four others in the room looked at each other skeptically.

"Mrs. Hennessy. Perhaps you'd like to tell us the story from the beginning." Sanchez suggested gently.

"Oh. I'm so sorry." She looked up. "It was very easy. Ricky told me to call a number, and give a name, and they would take care of everything. I just had to provide the money and he promised he would allow the court to sever his parental rights. He wouldn't bother me or Kyle ever again: you don't know how badly I wanted that. My brother--" She stopped and looked away. "My brother is not a good man."

Caverty saw Standish roll his eyes, but he said nothing, his face impassive and watchful.

"Who did you call?" Sanchez asked patiently.

"Someone called Seth Charles."

Four sets of eyes met. It was fitting together, tighter and tighter.

"I can give you the number. And I told him I was calling about the no-name specials. I had to give him an account number. Rick told me which one."

"How did your brother contact you?" Sanchez asked quietly.

"A tape. I think his lawyer taped him. I still have it, I don't know if you, would it help if you had it?" She looked up hopefully, but slumped at the stony faces that looked back at her. "He told me to destroy it, but I wanted proof that he'd said he would sever the rights; stop seeing Kyle. It upset Kyle so badly when he came around." She shook her head. "I don't like Ricky very much. He's the last person who should have charge of a small child. Boy or girl."

"Do you think he molested your son?" Caverty asked quietly, figuring the question might come easier from a woman.

Hennessey met her eyes. "I--I don't know. I don't think so. I never gave him the--" She reddened. "I sometimes think he could be capable--" She stopped and dropped her eyes to where her hands trembled against each other, and she clutched them together. "That's an awful thing to say about one's own blood, but I couldn't help thinking it. Not when he used to look at him--"

"You were going to say he was capable of it?"

She nodded reluctantly, refusing to look up.

"Did you know what they were going to do?" Standish asked from the far side of the room, voice icy.

She nodded again. "I, I had to tell them. I told them to take that little boy. Oh god, he was so little. And I told them to do it."

There was silence in the room as she gulped and produced a handkerchief from somewhere. "I told them. He gave me the address and everything. There was a folder of information. I had to give it to Mr. Charles."

"And you did that?"

"Yes."

"Were you present at the kidnapping?" Sanchez asked sternly.

"Yes." Her voice was almost inaudible.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Were you, Lisa Hennessey, present during the abduction of John Daniel Dunne, six years of age, from his minder's home in Colorado, having commissioned the same through one Seth Charles?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Sanchez asked simply, leaning forward on the table.

"What?" She blinked, confused.

"Why?" Sanchez moved around the table and settled in a chair next to her and regarded her thoughtfully. "Why were you there? Why didn't you leave Seth Charles and his people to deal with it? Did your brother tell you to?"

"No. No. He was quite angry. He told me to stop interfering."

"So, why?"

"Because I wouldn't trust him or his with a child. Ever. I wanted to m-make sure the child was safe. And--" She ducked her head, reddening.

"And it was exciting?" Standish said acidly. "Perhaps you felt that a little excitement would spice up your otherwise blameless, drab existence. Perhaps a little criminal activity didn't seem too much to pay for keeping your boy away from his biological father."

She flinched. "I thought it would be okay. They'd just look after him, and then give him back, after they did what my brother wanted. He wasn't going to be hurt. I suppose... I suppose I wasn't thinking."

"I think we can agree on that." Standish muttered, and Sanchez flicked him a reproving look.

"So why did you bring the boy here? You did bring him here?"

"Yes. I insisted. He was going to take him god knows where. I have a little bedroom here; my employees use it if they're feeling unwell. He was supposed to stay in there. Kyle has slept there from time to time. It locks, I thought he'd be perfectly safe."

"Safe? In the grip of his kidnappers, ma'am?" Caverty blurted incredulously.

"Jane," Brown said softly as Sanchez glanced at her.

"He went missing. I think that Charles man took him, put him somewhere. I don't know where. I couldn't find him. I looked everywhere. I didn't know what to do." She looked desperately at them, "I tried to call Ricky, but he was in court, and I couldn't tell anyone! I couldn't call the police! You see that, don't you?"

"So you left him with Mr. Charles?"

"Yes. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to."

"Were there any others? Any other accomplices?"

"Two. I can describe them. They're still here, I think."

"Where?" The four of them spoke together, leaning forward.

"Oh." She flinched. "They're in the staff break room. I think they are. They were when I was coming down to meet you."

"Would anyone have told them that the police were here?"

"No. Loretta is very discreet."

Sanchez grinned broadly. "Would you like to show us to the break room, Mrs. Hennessy?"

"Certainly." She rose, and hesitated. "Am I under arrest now?"

"I think you can consider yourself under arrest, yes, ma'am." Caverty said firmly. Sanchez nodded, and she produced her cuffs.

"In a moment. First the break room?" Sanchez smiled, and she nodded, relief on her face.

"Up this way."

"Can you describe the room please, ma'am?" Brown asked as they followed her.

"It's about forty feet by thirty. There are three or four little groups of chairs, and a table by the window."

"How many windows?"

"Oh, lots, it's a corner room. I wanted to make sure there was lots of light in there."

The four officers looked at each other. Sanchez and Brown were frowning, Caverty felt like frowning too. The size of the room alone was bad, plus furniture, plus windows, plus an unknown number of people inside. The odds weren't good.

"Could you point us to the room, ma'am, and then go back to the room we were in," she suggested, and shrugged at her partner and the feds. "She's hardly a flight risk."

"I'm not sure I'd agree, but, we need these guys more." Sanchez nodded at Mrs. Hennessy. "Which one?"

"The door at the far end on the left."

"Thank you. And if you're lying--"

"No! I wouldn't. I promise!"

Jane shrugged and turned away, the others walking noiselessly beside her up the carpeted corridor, loosening their weapons as they went.

------------------------------------------------

3.30 pm Four Corners, CO.

Vin was fidgeting. The judge had promised the boy he'd be back soon nearly five hours ago, and the itchiness to *do* was starting to become more and more visible.

"Vin, eat your food."

"Sorry, Mrs. Potter."

"Don't be sorry, eat!"

"Yes, Mrs. Potter."

Gloria sighed. God knows the child had enough stress in his life for any three adults, and she didn't dare push, and refused lunch earlier, but he'd barely eaten yesterday, and if she knew anything about Larabee, he hadn't fed the boy last night, and probably not this morning either. She tightened her lips, stopping herself from saying anything. She was pretty sure both Vin and his father blamed her. She also was well aware of her tendency to try to cure things with cooking.

If she hadn't been baking JD's favorite cookies, to cheer the boys up while their fathers were away, she could have stopped them before they could take JD.

Like all little quirks in a crisis it now magnified to a huge fault. Food had caused JD to be stolen; therefore, she wasn't going to push.

Vin stared morosely at his hot dog and fries, and pushed the fried onion across the plate in greasy streaks. He'd thought he was hungry when he asked for it. Now it was there, staring at him, the very smell made his stomach churn.

"Would you like something else?"

Vin's eyes lifted to her face like a blow. She knew what he would like. It was nothing she could offer.

The phone rang and she nearly gasped with relief. "Hello?"

"Nettie! Yes, yes, he's fine. Have you spoken to Mr. Larabee?" She paused and started shaking her head. "No, don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Vin slid from the table and left the kitchen quietly.

"Nettie, wait a moment. Vin, Vin sweetheart, don't go outside, okay?"

He looked back, blue eyes shadowed and watchful, and nodded wordlessly. She sighed as he slipped into the living room.

"Sorry, Nettie. No, he's probably sitting by the window. I think he's waiting for JD." She wiped at her eyes. "He knows. Orin was the first person they told, and he drove up here himself in the middle of the day to tell him. And I'm so glad they found him, but what was he doing so far away? Why did they take him? The poor little mite never did anything," her words tumbled out helplessly, and she stopped herself with a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, was there something you wanted?"

She blanched at the gentle, implacable words from her friend. "But, Nettie, I--I." She stopped. "No. I do see. I understand. I understand your position, I just -- oh! But what about Vin? Where's he going to stay if I can't look after him?"

Nettie's voice continued gently but she barely heard. "So, when, when are Child Services coming?"

"No!" Vin shouted. Gloria looked up and found the boy standing at the door. "I won't go! You can't make me! You can't take me away from Dad, I've gotta be there when he comes home!"

"Vin, it's going to be okay. Nettie, the boy overheard. Can I call you back? Mrs. Jackson offered to take him, would she be an acceptable substitute?"

"Could you call her? I've got to go -- Vin, no, come back here!" She dropped the phone abruptly and hurried to where Vin was pulling on his shoes.

"They ain't taking me. I ain't going an' you can't make me!" He pulled away from her and tried to reach the door.

"Vin, no, please! Auntie Rain is going to come look after you."

"No! I'm gonna call Chris and make him come get me. You're *bad*. You lost JD and you're trying to get rid of me!"

Gloria flinched. "No, honey, Ms Wells has to investigate what happened. She's very fond of you boys, and JD was kidnapped from here. She can't allow me to look after you while they're investigating. It wasn't my fault, she knows that, but those are the rules." She bent down and held her hands out, and added gently, "You know it isn't your fault either, Vin, don't you?"

Vin backed away. "Don't let 'em take me!"

Gloria bit her lip. "It isn't your fault. They aren't taking you because JD got kidnapped. It's just the rules. But Ms Wells is going to call Mrs. Jackson, Auntie Rain, okay? right now and see if she can come over. And if your Dad is okay with it, you'll stay with her today."

"Don't want to! I want to go *home*! You can't make me stay! I'll, I'll run away, and you won't never find me."

Gloria kept her eyes steady despite the lurch in her chest. "I'm sure you could. But what would that do to Chris? Or JD? They've only just found him, and you go missing? Isn't that a bit selfish?"

Vin's face blanked.

"Vin, running away won't cure anything. It won't make you feel better. It won't make *anyone* feel better."

He looked at her thoughtfully, then away, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. She waited for his next move. She relaxed a little as she remembered the police presence outside the house. Vin surely wouldn't get far even if he did try to slip away. And where would he go? The ranch was locked up and empty, and the rest of the team were with Larabee in Dakota.

He nodded finally and drifted away, twisting easily away from her touch when she tried to embrace him. She followed him into the living room and watched as he curled up in the corner of the window again, staring down the road. An unpleasant thought struck her, and she shook her head. No. He wouldn't be stupid enough to try to go to join the team. Would he?

She watched him like a hawk for the rest of the afternoon.

Rain Jackson arrived an hour later, and Gloria had no idea what to say to the woman. Rain was clearly just as uncomfortable, and the two of them sat watching Vin, who sat at the window watching the road outside, in silence except for periodic offers of coffee which were always politely refused.

Not long after Rain arrived the phone rang. Gloria picked up with considerable trepidation, one eye on Vin, who looked poised for flight.

"Hello?" Her face relaxed. "Judge, I'm so glad you called, Ms Wells wants to--oh, you do? She did?" There was a long silence as she listened, relief filling her face.

"How long will it be?" She carefully avoided warning the boy, who rose to his feet anyway, quick to catch the attempt at deception.

"We'll meet you there in two hours then." She rubbed a hand over her face and sighed with relief. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you stepped in." She smiled at Vin reassuringly, "We had a pretty bad time at first. He'll like this plan much better."

"We'll see you then." She put the phone back down and smiled at her charge. "Go get washed up, and use the bathroom. I'll pack your emergency clothes in a bag, and we'll leave in half an hour."

"Where?" he asked sullenly.

She smiled. "The airport. The Judge will meet us there, and you'll be flying to Jamestown. Well, Minneapolis first."

His face lit up, and she smiled back at him. "We're going to see JD?"

"Yes," she confirmed and he grinned.

"Cool." He bounced towards the door then stopped and turned reluctantly. "Um." He scuffed a foot on the carpet then straightened up. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Gloria hugged him. "Well, so was I. But you were very upset, and I was upset too, so we'll forget about it, okay? Even Stevens?"

Vin nodded.

"Off to the bathroom with you then."

Rain smiled at her, "Shall I help you pack? And maybe we can put in some things for JD as well? I don't expect for a moment the guys thought to take any clothes for him."

"Oh, of course not! Men!" She hurried up the stairs. "The boys' clothes are in the dresser in the spare room, the first room on the right at the top of the stairs. If you can get them, I'll find a case, and check on Vin."

"Okay," Rain called back. The sound of drawers opening and closing was almost hidden by the sound of a flushing toilet, and Gloria paused, wiping at her eyes. A terrible mistake, but one soon to be over. A small smile lit her face. JD would be home soon.

And if she wasn't allowed to look after them any more, she would understand, and be glad to have known them.

------------------------------------------------

4 pm, Hennessy Paper Mill, ND

"Federal Agent! Nobody move!" Sanchez slammed into the break room, gun up. Caverty followed low, Brown high, taking the sides as Sanchez and Standish took the center. Every head snapped around, Josiah counted seven people. Three women froze, cups in the air, one with her mouth half around a pastry. Two men towards the back of the room, both with that mix of defiance and fear that to him always marked out the guilty. Another two by the sink, one with his hands in the water, the other...

"Get down! Put the gun down!"

He felt without seeing, the two police officers left and right of him dive and roll, coming up with guns aimed and ready. He knew without even looking that Ezra had split right, dropping behind a table for cover. He dodged to the side and yelled again, "Put the gun down!"

He snapped off a shot and missed, shattering one of those picture windows that Mrs. Hennessy had been so proud of. Two of the three remaining men produced guns too, and dived for the scant protection of the overstuffed chairs. The women screamed and Sanchez swore mentally and ran towards then, crouched and weaving as Caverty and Brown laid down covering fire.

"ATF! Ladies, get down, stay down, and try to make your way to the exit. Do not stand!" He grabbed one who started to rise and shoved her to the floor, "Sorry ma'am, but if you stand up you'll be a target for those low lives. Please, crawl towards the exit. Keep behind the furniture wherever possible." He pulled his arm away from a panicked grip and sprinted for the slightly better cover of the table, which he knocked over, drawing the gun fire away from the women.

He peeked out from the side of the table and snapped off a shot, winging the gun arm of the man ducked down by the sink. The injured man swore and dropped the gun. A flash of movement and red in the corner of his eye warned him and he pulled back in time to avoid another man falling, gutshot, towards him. He glanced over his shoulder to meet Standish's eyes. Standish saluted him two fingers to an imaginary hat and a tiny grin, and he nodded back, I owe you one, and turned his attention instantly back to the rest of the confrontation. Two down. Two left.

He eased around the opposite side of the table looking for them. There's one.

"Lay down your weapons!" he called, slowly rising to one knee, lining up for a shot, confident that his backup would take care of the unseen fourth. There was a massive crash. One of the windows shattered under a swung chair and he swore as the fourth man, the one he suspected to be Seth Charles, Kemp's lieutenant, dived through it, chancing the two story fall. Standish sprinted for the window, and Josiah yelled, "Ez, no!"

Standish turned, glaring at him. He shook his head, and Josiah couldn't spare any longer watching him, and turned his attention fully on the last man standing.

"Give it up!" Caverty called as she slid round the walls, getting between the remaining man and any possible exit. The guy looked around wildly, then dropped the gun, raising his hands to the back of his head. Brown moved carefully, never blocking his partner or the ATF agents' line of fire.

"On the ground! Get down!" He pushed him none too gently to the floor, and quickly cuffed him, reading his rights. The moment the cuffs were on him Caverty headed for the man who had been shot in the arm. He was crouching behind the sink, moaning in pain and clutching at the bleeding wound as she patted him down and read him his rights.

Sanchez approached the gutshot cautiously, gun still out. The man appeared to be unconscious, but it wasn't worth the risk. He patted him down, removing a knife and another gun before rolling the man over and cuffing him. He scowled. It still seemed inhumane, but it was the rules. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked for Ezra. He caught a flash of closing door as Standish headed down the stairs after the jumper, and scowled.

"Brown, secure this. Caverty, call for backup. I'm going after Standish." Caverty's face tightened for a moment and he wondered briefly, second guessing himself, if he ought to include the local cops in the last part of the chase. No. They had no reinforcements coming. They would both be needed up here. He dismissed the thought.

"Yes, sir." She pulled out her radio and was calling in to request backup from Jamestown and the closer Buchanan before he even left the room.

He sprinted down the stairs after Ezra, hurdling the last few steps, vaulting the banisters to drop a flight. He caught up with Standish in the corridor out of the stairwell, but they didn't exchange so much as a glance. Instead they were out the door, slamming it wide, and through the foyer, the receptionist jumping to her feet, her eyes wide and hands over her mouth.

Out the doors, round the building to the left, without a word, Standish peeled off to the right, guns out, held low.

He came around the corner, moving low and fast: no sign. He glanced upwards, trying to orient himself on the building. There. The shattered glass shone like a beacon in the afternoon sun and he slowed, eyes moving rapidly trying to catch anything, a movement out of place, a piece of fabric.

A car revved, and he turned to see a small dark car tear up the road with a screech of rubber. He sprinted after it, but couldn't get close enough to read the plates before it disappeared around a bend.

"Damn! Damn, damn, damn," he swore. He leaned his hands on his thighs, breathing hard. Maybe he should work out more, Ezra swore by running every morning. Maybe he had a point...

Standish ran up and stopped beside him, barely out of breath at all, despite having run right around the building and halfway out the parking lot. Josiah scowled at him.

"Did you get the number?" he asked urgently.

Sanchez shook his head, and Standish gave him a scathing look.

"Cameras," Sanchez shook his head, smug satisfaction on his face, gesturing at the security cameras perched high around the parking lot.

Ezra nodded. "I'll go ahead and get them to pull them. Back-up's got to be at least twenty minutes away still."

Sanchez nodded and straightened. "Let's get back inside and see if we can help Brown and Caverty with the clean up."

"Got it."

They walked back into the building. By now people were pouring out of their offices, panicking at the sound of gunfire that had filled the building.

"Everybody, please stay calm," Standish called, his cool manner and clear voice -- and raised ATF badge -- a beacon calming and drawing the workers' eyes. Instantly he was swamped. He and Sanchez swapped a rueful look and Sanchez slipped past, leaving him to manage the crowd.

Up on the second floor, Mrs. Hennessy was awkwardly helping to put pressure on the wound on the man who had been shot in the upper stomach area. Her hands were cuffed, but in front of her, and she shuffled back on her knees when Sanchez approached, her bloodstained hands in her lap.

"Help her wash that off," Sanchez snapped at Caverty, angry. Caverty herself was wearing latex evidence gloves as she wrapped a bandage tightly around the other injured man's arm. The white bandage had already spotted through, and she silently wrapped another layer over it.

"I did advise her to put gloves on, sir," she protested.

"I'm not sure how I was supposed to arrange that like this," Hennessy lifted her cuffed hands.

Sanchez pulled her brusquely to her feet.

"He's going to bleed to death if we don't keep pressure on it."

"We need to get that blood off of you right now," he insisted, and pulled her over to the sink. "Do you have any cuts on your hands or arms?" He turned on the water, letting it run as hot as he thought she could bear, and pulled on gloves of his own.

"No, I don't think so." She stood patiently while Sanchez squirted detergent over her wrists then plunged them into the swiftly running hot water. "Do you have to be so rough?"

"Sorry, ma'am." He inspected her skin minutely. "Looks clear. Still, we'll check his medical background, let you know if you ought to get tested."

"Tested?"

He nodded back to the man whose blood had covered her hands. "Who knows if he's infected or not."

"Oh my god!"

"Probably not, but standard precautions have to be taken."

"I never thought--oh my god!"

"If I get you a pair of gloves you can carry on helping, if you don't mind," he added, somewhat callously. He handed her a towel and once she had dried up, a pair of thin evidence gloves. "Try not to let the blood anywhere except on these."

"Oh my god."

"Ma'am?" He asked impatiently. He didn't have time for this.

"Yes, I'll, of course, I just--oh my god." She knelt by the injured criminal and pushed firmly on the bloody tea towels packing the wound.

Sanchez sighed. What a damned mess. He looked around. Furniture overturned and splintered from gun shots. Two windows smashed. Three men down, none of them his. Which was a definite plus. No plates on that car, but the cameras should have caught it, so not a complete loss. Which reminded him. Ezra probably had his hands full with crowd control.

"Mrs. Hennessy?" He walked over and crouched by her.

"Yes?"

"Do you know the number for your security staff?"

"It's just Tommy. Tommy Cheung. He's on extension 777."

"Thank you." He picked up the wall phone and dialed.

"Security?"

"This is Agent Josiah Sanchez with the ATF. I need you to pull the tapes for the last half hour on the parking lot out front. I'm sending an Officer Brown down to collect them." He glanced at Brown who looked up from where he was standing guard over the two other prisoners and nodded.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to need some proof of identity." Cheung said hesitantly.

Sanchez drew a deep breath. "Right. Fine. Mrs. Hennessy!" he shouted, not bothering to move his hand over the mouth piece. I hope his ears hurt for a week.

"Yes Agent Sanchez?" She looked up impatiently, almost visibly stopping herself adding, 'what *now*'.

"Please confirm to Mr. Cheung that you authorize the release of the security tapes."

"Yes." She struggled to her feet, and hurried over. He held the phone to her head. "Tommy, this is Lisa Hennessey, please help Agent Sanchez and the police in any way you can."

She stepped away from the phone. "He'll be okay now," she said tiredly, and trudged back to the man on the floor.

"Thank you. Mr. Cheung?"

"I'll get them out now. How else can I help?"

"I have an agent, Standish, downstairs trying to manage a crowd situation. Could you assist him once you have handed the tapes to Officer Brown?"

"No problem, Agent. I'll be waiting for Officer Brown."

"Thanks." He hung up and shook his head. No sign of Charles. No injuries to the arresting team. Four of the low life scum who'd thought they could break up a family dear to his heart safely under arrest. And one small boy safely back with his family, albeit in hospital. He grinned. On the whole, a win for the good guys, he told himself. Now, if they could just find Charles.

------------------------------------------------

5.30 pm (Mountain time) Approaching Denver International Airport

He hated planes. Particularly, he hated this plane. He was in the last seat on a commuter service between Austin and Denver. It was crowded and noisy, and his knees were folded up by his chin as a result of the airline's never ending effort to cram even more rows of seating into the already cramped body of the jet. He was stuck in the middle seat too, unable to stretch out in any direction. The man to his left was buried in a newspaper. The one to his right was bobbing his head to the tinny music coming from his headphones. He wondered who was supposed to have had his seat, and whether he'd been asked to give up his seat or if he'd been unceremoniously bumped.

He was hungry too. The second the judge had dismissed him he'd been escorted from the court by his bodyguards. For the first time since Jake Danners and Lars Hernandez had become his new best buddies he'd been grateful for them. They'd explained the plan, rushed him out to a waiting car, driven him to the airport and handed him over to an airline representative. She had rushed him through the airport, moving astonishingly fast in her pretty, impractical, red shoes that should have broken her neck as she sprinted. Instead she'd nearly left him behind a couple of times, and he'd stopped even thinking about her pretty ass, and concentrated on running for the plane.

He had no luggage. Lars had told him they'd pack up his stuff and get it back to Denver, that he didn't need the distraction. He only had himself, his wallet and phone. He was going to end up spending a fortune on clothes and essentials when he got there.

And he didn't care.

He checked his watch again. In ten minutes he was going to land in Denver and change for the first of three times on the way to Jamestown, where his heart already waited for him. He grinned at himself and his shameless headlong dive into schmaltz. In four hours he would be in Minneapolis. In another two after that he would be in Jamestown. And then...

Eight more minutes.

He loved this plane!

------------------------------------------------

5.30pm Denver International Airport

Vin hopped anxiously from one foot to the other, holding reluctantly onto Aunt Rain's hand. She smiled down at him and squeezed his hand. "Only a little while."

Judge Travis rejoined them, a smile on his face. "Any minute now," he said enigmatically.

Vin wasn't stupid. They were standing at arrivals, not departures, for all they'd checked him in. The board above had a dozen flights listed, but his eyes kept drifting back to one. DA193 from Austin. Landed.

"Hey, Junior!" Vin's heart lurched and he turned and headed for Buck at a dead run. The tall man scooped him up and wrapped him up tight in his arms. "Hey, there, Junior." Buck repeated, and cupped his face in one large hand. "How ya doin', kid?"

Vin shrugged, and Buck's arms tightened so he could hardly breathe. "We're going to be better soon," Buck said softly into his ear, and Vin shrugged again.

"Vin, I've spoken to JD. Today. At lunchtime." He lowered the boy to the ground and crouched, his hands on his shoulders, looking straight into his eyes.

Vin examined his expression for any hint of deception or evasion. Hope dawned. Buck didn't lie to them. Couldn't lie and make it stick. He smiled faintly, and Buck nodded silently.

"I'd offer to phone him so you could speak to him yourself," his eyes lifted and for a moment Vin saw anger in them, directed at the three adults waiting there, "except we gotta run. Got your bag?"

Vin nodded, lifting the pink and green flowered monstrosity that Mrs. Potter had packed for him and JD.

"Good. Judge. Ms Nettie, Rain," he smiled at them. "I'll see you soon." He gripped Vin's hand firmly. "Ready? Let's go!"

And they were running, flat out, dodging and weaving through the airport crowds. Vin ran as fast as he could beside Buck, but he couldn't keep up and in a quick dive and twist he was slung over Buck's shoulder, his bag banging on Buck's back as the man ran, calling ahead, "Federal Agent, excuse me! Coming through! Excuse me!"

He stared back at the corridors of people as they bounced into the distance, some pointing and staring, some laughing, some frowning. A lot of frowning, actually.

"Agent Wilmington? And this is Vin?" A pretty woman in a dark blue and red uniform was running smoothly beside them, and Vin blinked.

"Sure is, sweetheart," Buck said breathlessly.

"We're waiting on you at Gate Ten. Just around the corner."

"Vin, give the lady your boarding card."

Vin frowned, "I thought I had to give it to the lady at the desk?!" he gasped out, winded as he bounced against Buck's shoulder.

"In special circumstances," Buck began.

"I *am* the lady at the desk," she dropped back behind Buck and smiled up at him as she ran. "Your plane is taking off in two minutes, and we want to make sure you're on it."

Vin grinned. "Cool!"

"Can I have it?"

Vin rummaged in his pockets, wriggling it out of his jeans' back pocket awkwardly and nearly hitting Buck in the mouth with his elbow.

"Careful there, Junior," Buck puffed.

"Thank you!" She plucked it from his hand and sprinted ahead of them. She turned right into a doorway down the corridor and they followed her a couple of minutes later, Buck slowing to a jog.

She was standing at the desk, two stubs held out. "Safe journey!" He grabbed them as he kept on going down a narrow corridor and then they were stepping through the plane door, a steward was taking them to their seats while from over Buck's shoulder Vin watched a stewardess pulling the door closed as they moved down the aisle, and then he was being lowered to the ground and sat in a seat, the steward doing up his belt, another putting Mrs. Potter's green and pink case into the overhead locker, Buck sitting beside him belting up, then slipping a hand round to grip Vin's neck.

"Okay?"

Vin thought about it. "Where are we going?"

"Minneapolis. Then we're changing onto a little plane to take us to Jamestown." Buck smiled as though it hurt to do so. "And then we're going to Jamestown Community Hospital."

"And we're gonna bring JD home." Vin said tentatively.

"Yup. We sure are."

"Glad you're here," he offered shyly, his bad mood gone.

"Glad you're here too, kiddo."

------------------------------------------------

5.30 pm Jamestown Community Hospital

Nathan smiled at the kid as he dozed. Between the medication for his broken leg, and sheer exhaustion he was spending more time asleep than awake. It made the six year old look even younger. He stroked a light hand over the hot little forehead. A slight fever, nothing serious. Larabee had eased himself out from underneath the kid to use the bathroom, and wasn't back yet. He'd probably taken the chance to call Ezra or Josiah and was caught up in a conversation with them.

He cocked his head, frowning. Could he--? Yes. In the distance he could hear Chris's voice in the clipped slow tones of a man on the borderlands of his temper, and just about ready to cross over. He must be talking to Ez.

"Hello?" A tap on the door was accompanied by a man's voice calling tentatively. Nathan looked up and saw a man in casual clothes, brown hair, blue eyes, perhaps a little shorter than Buck, but not by much.

The police were still on the door, and he stood, wondering who he could be if they had let him through. The casual jeans and sweater ruled out the police or hospital staff, and the armed guard on the door had already, off their own initiative, thrown out three reporters so far.

"Hi." He moved between JD and the man, blocking his view. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Jack Gilles." He held out a hand, and Nathan hesitated, trying to remember where he'd heard that name. Gilles, Gilles -- "Mr. Gilles -- you're the guy that saved JD," the name snapped into focus, and he seized the man's hand. "Nathan Jackson. We're so grateful to you and your friend."

Gilles shrugged deprecatingly. "I didn't think about it, just did what anyone would have done."

"But you did it for my boy, and I won't be forgetting that," Larabee spoke behind him, and Gilles turned smoothly, not betraying so much as a flinch. Nathan saw Chris note it and draw the same conclusion.

"Army?"

"Yup. You?"

"Navy," Larabee half shrugged and held out his hand. "Chris Larabee. I'm one of JD's guardians. Buck and I owe you more than we can ever repay."

Gilles grinned. "Was a pleasure. Is the kid's dad here then?"

Chris's face froze slightly, and he shook his head. "He's flying up from Austin tonight."

"The boy said he was testifying--?"

"We're federal agents. ATF," he explained briefly. He smiled faintly as he realised that Gilles was trying to see past him and Nathan to the bed. "JD's asleep."

"Can I...?"

The two agents moved slightly, and Gilles stepped up to look at the sleeping boy.

"Damn." His guarded face melted into concern and he reached out to JD's face, his hand hovering above his cheek without touching. "It looks worse than he did this morning."

"Bruises are coming out," Nathan said.

"Have they got the kidnappers yet?"

Chris grinned tightly at Nathan and nodded at Gilles. "Yeah. Nate, Ez and Josiah went out with the local cops, rounded themselves up a little gang of crooks." The look in his eyes warned both men against asking for details. Nathan nodded. He'd find out when Gilles left.

Gilles nodded. "Good, I'm damned glad to hear it." He looked down at the boy. "I just wanted to see how he was. I might drop in again tomorrow, if that's okay?"

Chris shrugged. "Don't see why not. I'm pretty sure Buck will want to see you, and the kid might be a bit more awake then. He mentioned you earlier."

"He's been awake?"

"Oh yes," Chris said dryly, and Gilles laughed.

"So, it's not just complete strangers he chatters on at?"

Nathan laughed softly. "The trick is jumping in at the right point. He's a good little thing though." The three of them looked at the good little thing and caught the first stirrings of waking.

"I'm disturbing him. I should go." He turned for the door, but paused as he reached it. "You guys are doing a damn fine job of bringing that kid up," he added brusquely.

"Jack, tole you that's a dollar," JD yawned and opened his eyes. "Jack?"

"Different rules, just this once, JD," Chris said firmly.

"Hey kid," Gilles smiled. "I was just going."

"Why?"

Gilles looked blank. "Because you were asleep."

"But I ain't now. Where's Simon? Where'd the car go? How come Simon's hair's carrots?"

"JD," Chris said tiredly, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I wanna *know*, Chris."

"I know you do. One question at a time."

Gilles shook his head and grinned at the boy. "No worse than my clients, I'm a lawyer," he added to Larabee and Jackson.

"JAG?"

"No, retrained after my tour." The others nodded. "Okay, JD, or should I call you Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Only if I call you silly," JD gave a gap toothed grin back.

"Well, I guess I'll stick to JD then. Simon's at home with his wife and little girl, but he's going to come visit with you tomorrow, if you like?"

"I like!" JD said cheerfully.

"Right, and the car is parked outside. I don't know why Simon's hair's carrots, you'll have to ask him yourself."

Nathan groaned. "He will, you know."

Jack laughed. "Oh, I know it, don't I, you little ruffian." He tousled JD's hair admiringly. "Do anything this one. Wouldn't tell me his name, kicked and bit me when he thought I was one of the bad guys, never cried once when his leg was broken and he was worse beat up than almost anyone I've seen outside of a brawl. You're a brave kid, aren't you?"

JD nodded doubtfully, and looked over at Chris, who took two quick steps to the bed and perched beside JD, a hand on his shoulder.

"You did exactly right," he said quietly, and squeezed. JD leaned against him.

"Well, I ought to get going." Gilles said awkwardly.

Larabee held out his hand. "If you ever need anything, call me." Gilles took the business card, and they shook.

Nathan walked him out of the room, and to the elevators. As they waited, he added quietly, "Thank you. I don't know what would have happened to him if you hadn't--"

Gilles nodded grimly. "I'm just glad he's going to be okay. He *is* going to be okay, isn't he?"

Nathan smiled. "Drop by tomorrow, and he'll be a different kid."

"He was so gutsy back there, and so quiet just now..."

"He's on pain medication, and he's tired from the operation and the last two days. He hasn't had a meal since breakfast yesterday either, as far as we can make out."

"Damn. How can people do these things?" The two men shook their heads. A chime warned of an elevator about to arrive, and Nathan held his hand out to shake.

"There's five men who owe you that kid's life. Thank you."

They shook, and Gilles retreated into the open elevator.

------------------------------------------------

7pm, Jamestown Community Hospital

Ezra's head thumped back onto the headrest loudly and he shut his eyes. "If I ever complain about federal bureaucracy again, please remind me of the nadir of my life."

Josiah grinned. "I found it soothing."

Ezra threw him a sour look, and exited the car. "I do not doubt that our lord and master awaits with bated breath the tales of our day's adventures."

Josiah hauled himself out of the comfortable car seat and leaned on its roof. "Nadir?"

"Utter."

"Food?"

"I hesitate to describe the local hospital offerings as 'food', but I suppose that we should eat something."

"Good. You fill Chris in, I'll buy."

"Let's both fill Chris in." Ezra retorted. "He will only be able to take one target out at a time."

"Two hands."

"One will doubtless be occupied with Master Dunne. No, if both of us tell him there is at least a fifty per cent chance that you will be shot first."

Five minutes later they hadn't resolved the argument and Larabee was lifting his head to glare at them as they walked into the room.

Standish and Sanchez slid sidelong glances at each other, at the sleeping Jackson, and the only too awake Larabee. He was still glaring.

Ezra broke first.

"Mr. Larabee, I am delighted to report that we have assisted the local representatives of the law to make three arrests relating to Master Dunne's abduction."

Chris looked at him steadily.

"And we have completed every kind of paperwork possible. Discharge of a firearm, damage to public property, damage to private property, arrest, non-lethal force in relation to the discharge of a firearm -- we were most thorough."

"Charles?"

"Ah, well, not exactly."

"Where's Charles?"

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that we have arranged for the armed guard outside to be continued for some time, and--"

"Are you telling me you had the chance to take Seth Charles down, and he got away from you?"

Ezra looked helplessly around. "Yes." He glared at Sanchez.

"We found where they kept the boy," Josiah said tiredly, and settled into a chair. He shook his head. "There's a hole in the wall where part of the brickwork has rotted away. They haven't had a flood up this way in a while, so they didn't know there was a gap into the old sewage outlet that runs alongside."

Chris's eyes narrowed. "His feet."

"Exactly." Ezra looked sick. "I cannot believe anyone would walk barefoot through that --" he swallowed, the stink still in his nostrils. "Much less a child with cuts to those same bare feet."

"You're sure?"

"The room matches the tape. There are a number of bloody footprints that the local constabulary are typing for a match to the child. And the footprints lead straight down the sewer and out of the outlet over the river." Ezra leaned in close and brushed a gentle hand over JD's dark hair. "We are amazingly lucky. I would not have given odds on anyone surviving what he has."

"God was on our side," Josiah said softly, and Ezra didn't say a word.

"It was him, though," Chris asked intently.

"Who, Charles?" Ezra blinked. "Yes. Mrs. Hennessy confirmed it, and we saw him before he jumped from a second story window. Hennessy gave a full confession. She's hoping for leniency, maybe immunity." He shrugged with a cruel smile. "Judging by the officers we spoke to, that isn't going to happen."

"We'll take turns watching him then," Larabee looked at them both. "Josiah, sleep. Standish, I'll wake you in four hours. Get some rest."

"Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I don't think I can. Buck's on his way. Should be here about eleven." He sighed and eased away from JD's bed. The boy moved restlessly for a moment but didn't wake. "Have you boys eaten?"

They shook their heads, and he scowled. "I'll get something sent up, and you will eat. I'm not having you doing Charles's work for him."

"Yes, dad," Ezra muttered.

"Shut up, Ez. I'm trying to make sure no one gets to the kid--"

"I know, Mr. Larabee. I am well aware that we screwed up. Just get the yelling over with."

Larabee smiled unpleasantly. "I'm saving it for when I don't feel like just shooting you."

"Chris. Ezra," Josiah intervened. "We are all on edge. Let's stop before anyone tips over that edge, hmm? Ez, don't bait him. Besides," he added frowning at them both, "you're going to wake the kid."

------------------------------------------------

11 pm, Jamestown Community Hospital, ND

The room was dark. Buck could dimly see in the light streaming through the door a lump curled on one of the beds, too big to be the boy. His eyes adjusted slowly, and he smiled. JD's form had been almost obscured by Ezra, who was sleeping half on the bed, half on a precariously balanced chair by the bed, his arm draped over JD's chest.

He took another step in and cold metal pressed at his neck.

"Freeze," Chris's voice said coldly, and Buck grinned.

"Hell of a way to say hello. A guy could get a complex thinking you didn't love him."

"Buck, you stupid bastard." Chris slid the gun away and swung Buck around to face him.

"You okay?" They both said, almost simultaneously, and Buck let out a soft chuckle.

"C'm 'ere," he wrapped both arms around Chris as though he hadn't seen him in a month. Chris sighed resignedly, and patted his friend gingerly on his back.

"People will talk."

"People already talk, buddy." He shuddered and leaned into Chris, whose grip tightened as he shook.

"He's gonna be fine."

"Yeah. I know." The thought crossed his mind that he would never in a million years have believed that Chris Larabee would be there for him like this until the boys came. Not after he lost his first family. Of course, without the boys, he'd never have needed him to be. He slapped Chris on the back and pulled away, smiling as Chris thumped him back.

"There's a kid outside who's been wanting to see you," Buck told him quietly. "Left him with Nate. He's asleep."

"Got another one who's been pretty anxious to get you here, too," he pushed Buck towards the bed. "Go on, git. I'll go see to Vin."

"Thanks," was all he could get out, his eyes fixed on the small body sprawled in the high hospital bed.

He didn't really notice taking two quick steps to the side of the bed. JD was asleep. He couldn't be sure if what he was seeing were shadows cast by the darkness or bruising. He gently ran a finger over one darkened eye, feeling the too hot puffiness of the skin, and his jaw tightened. JD's hair was stiff and tangled when he brushed his other hand over it, and he frowned. Why hadn't anyone taken decent care of him? He shook his head and murmured, "Because they were dealing with the important stuff."

"Mr. Wilmington?" Ezra lifted his head blearily, and Buck nodded.

"Yeah Ez, it's just me. Go back to sleep."

Ezra nodded and rose to his feet, shuffling away from the bed. "Your need is greater than mine," he gestured to the chair and crawled onto one of the free beds. "Please ensure there is coffee before I wake next." He was asleep before Buck could reply, even if he had intended to.

"Son, what did they do to you," he whispered sadly. He leaned in to brush a soft kiss to his son's forehead, and jerked back, startled, when JD's eyes cracked open.

"JD?" he whispered.

"Da!" JD yelped and flung his arms around Buck's neck. "I *missed* you!" he added indignantly, and Buck laughed, hugging him close.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll try to get here sooner next time," he grinned, thinking of the frantic hurry-up-and-wait journey up to this point; running through endless airport corridors only to have to sit quietly on never ending flights, and finally roaring through the night in an unmarked police car, Vin sleeping through the sirens of the car in front clearing the roads, sprawled across his lap on the back seat. "I'd never have left if I didn't have to," he said, more seriously.

JD's head tilted back from where it was buried in his neck and he shook his head. "I know that, Da," he answered, much too seriously for a little one. "I just wanted you to know."

"I knew," he said softly. He perched on the side of the bed, and they stared into each other's eyes, Buck's arms wrapped around his back and one hand rubbing steadily up and down, up and down, JD's both fisted into his shirt. One small hand freed itself and came up and he brushed at Buck's face.

"Don't cry, Da. I'm fine. An' I gotted myself away from the bad guys," he added proudly.

"You did?" Buck marveled.

"I *did*," he insisted. "Well, Jack and Simon helped some too, but they left me in a room, and there was a hole in the roof, and I got out and it was stinky, poo!" He held his nose and wrinkled up his face expressively. "Worse'n *anything*. And they nearly got me cos I fell asleep, and I kinda--" he hesitated and peeked up. His voice dropped to a mumble, and he finished, "an' then Jack found me! And now I'm here."

"I didn't catch that bit in the middle there," Buck observed. JD shifted in his arms, and he bit back a smile. "I ain't gonna be cross if you did something naughty."

"Sure?" JD peeked up at him and his heart just about melted. He'd thought he might never ...

"I'm sure. Just this once." He dropped a kiss on JD's nose, and laughed as the boy's eyes crossed trying to stay in focus on his face.

"I kinda fell in the river." He didn't look up, and started twirling a button on Buck's shirt round and round.

"Kinda fell?"

"Kinda jumped."

"Kinda jumped?"

"He was going to get me! So I jumped. I didn't know it was gonna be that big." He pushed in close, and Buck's eyes closed in pain even as his arms tightened carefully, one hand settling on the back of JD's head, pressing him close, comforting himself as much as the child. God. What had JD gone through? What had happened to him when his father had failed him?

He rubbed his cheek against the rough hair and said softly, "Good boy. You did the right thing. You got away from them, and you're safe now. I love you so much, kid. God. You're safe now."

"Love you too, Da," JD whispered, "Are you gonna have to go back to court?"

"No. I don't think so. I talked to the judge, and he said they'd try not to." He felt JD curl smaller into his arms, as though afraid he would be torn away immediately, and shook his head. "JD, I promise, if I have to go back, you're coming too."

"Good."

Buck rocked him gently. All he could smell was something terrible from JD's hair, and antiseptic. It really didn't matter when he could close his eyes and feel his breaths, hot and damp against his throat. Feel the steady thump of his heart under his hand. Hold tight onto the living, breathing child, forget the fear that he might never have this again, and never let go. His thoughts slipped out, and he whispered, half promising himself, half promising JD. "We're staying together. I've got you, and I'm not letting go. No one's ever going to take you away again."

"Nope. No one." JD sighed happily. "Da?"

"Yeah, lil' bit?"

"Where'd Jack go?"

Buck blinked. "Who's Jack?"

"He got me out the river when it was too big. I tried to swim, I did, but it was too big, and I broke my leg, there was somethin' in it and I hit it, *bam*," he slapped his hands together between them to demonstrate, "and my leg got broke. An' he visited me, but he went away again."

"Oh kid."

"I was scared, Da," JD whispered into his father's shirt collar.

"Me too, kid. Me too." He kept rocking them both, ignoring the ache developing in his back, and JD was quiet for so long he thought he'd fallen asleep again until he tried to lay him down.

"No!" JD's hands clenched hard in Buck's shirt, small nails digging into his skin, a fold of flesh gripped tightly and pulled.

"Ow! Steady there, easy, I'm not going anywhere, it's okay."

"'s Vin okay?"

"He's fine. He's with Chris just outside. Go to sleep." He hoped that would soothe the child, instead JD bounced.

"Vin's here? Can I see him?"

Buck sighed. "He's probably asleep, and you should be too."

"Oh." JD was disappointed.

"If you want to let go, I'll go get him." Buck caved without a word of protest.

"Oh." Clearly this was a decision that required careful consideration. A few minutes later he asked, "Can't you take me too when you go get him?"

"Well, lil' bit, I would, but you're sort of supposed to stay in bed."

"Oh." He brightened, "You could carry me!"

"That's not the problem, JD. Look." He gently lifted the child's left arm to show the lines running into it.

"Ugh. What's that? *Poison*?"

"Antibiotics," Chris's voice broke in before Buck had to speculate. "And some sugar and salt, because you didn't eat anything for a while."

"Chris!" JD said as gleefully as if he had not fallen asleep on the man's lap a bare five hours ago. "You're here!"

"Sure am." He pulled Vin forward. "Got someone you wanted to see."

"Vin." The word was almost voiceless, and JD just stared, wide eyed at his brother. Vin stared back, one hand wrapped in Chris's.

"Did you bring those cookies?"

Vin shrugged. "She put some in the case. They're kind of crumbly."

"S'okay."

"I c'n get 'em, if ya like?"

JD shook his head quietly. Vin edged closer, never letting go of Chris, and pulling him forwards perforce. Eventually he was close enough to close a hand over JD's wrist. He twisted it and grabbed Vin's hand, and the two boys stayed like that for a long time, Vin staring at JD's hand as though he could read his fortune. JD leaning on Buck and watching Vin's lowered head.

JD's head dropped forwards and jerked up, and Buck smiled. "Come on, kiddo. Go back to sleep," he told him, tenderly easing him back to lie on the cool sheets.

"Not," he paused to yawn hugely, and forced his eyes open again, "tired."

"Sure you ain't, boy," Buck murmured. Vin's thumb stroked softly against the back of JD's hand and JD smiled at him.

"You tired, Vin?" he asked sleepily.

Vin pulled himself up onto the bed without letting go of JD. Chris's hand settled in the small of his back, stopping him from tumbling backwards while he figured out how best to settle down without knocking JD.

"You turn over," he ordered, and JD rolled away from him obediently, yawning again. Vin wrapped himself carefully around JD's back, one arm under JD's neck as a pillow for them both, one over JD's waist until Chris gently lifted it higher.

"They operated just by there," he told them both. Vin simply accepted the information and closed his eyes, seeming to drift straight into sleep. Buck flinched. It felt like he'd spent all day traveling. And before that he was in court. And sometime during that vast, endless day Chris had told him something about cauterization, and infection, and a broken leg.

"What did they do?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and he tried to clear it quietly until Chris found him a glass of water. JD snored softly, and he smiled down at him.

"Who?"

"Who?"

"What did who do?"

"The hospital."

"Put on the cast. Sealed up a couple of places where he was slow-bleeding on the inside." Chris shrugged. "They said something about his feet, too. It's why the cast is kind of odd looking." Buck looked at him in puzzlement, then leaned over to peer at the foot of the cast. There was what looked almost like a window in it, showing cuts, some with stitches, others with butterfly tape holding then together.

Buck's face twisted. "Guess you ain't gonna be running anywhere for a while, kiddo, are you?" He looked up. "How long does the cast stay on?" No bouncing, or running in mad circles, or pounding through the house. No yelling 'walk, JD!' as he thundered past. Not for a while. Maybe not for a long time.

"They said at least six weeks, probably six to eight, depending on how fast he heals. They were talking about follow up x-rays every six months or so for the next ten years, make sure it doesn't end up growing crooked."

"Crooked?!" he exclaimed.

Chris hushed him, and shook his head. "I didn't quite get the jargon, but it's broken near where the growing happens, and they want to make sure it doesn't affect that. It's all set to heal fine. Don't panic."

Buck nodded. "We'll get the doc to have a look when we get home. Make sure." His hand combed through JD's hair, picking gently at knots and tangles.

"He'll be fine, Buck," Chris told him. "I broke my leg worse than that at his age and I was back to running around in two months."

"I should have been there."

"Buck. Don't."

"Chris, I--"

"Buck, I know that path. Don't," his friend said firmly and Buck nodded. "We've got him back. He's going to be fine."

"I can't help feeling--"

"You. Vin. Gloria." He looked away. "Me."

"Chris, it wasn't--oh." He looked up ruefully. "Point taken."

"I'm going to get some shut-eye. And tomorrow we'll go home."

------------------------------------------------

6.30 am, Jamestown Community Hospital

He was too hot. He shifted, pushing the blankets off of him and hit something soft and yielding that grunted. He blinked sleepily. His nose tickled, and he brushed JD's hair out of the way before he sneezed into it. JD was shivering, but he felt hot, and Vin frowned.

"JD?"

"Vin?" Chris sounded tired, his voice gravelly like he'd only just woken up.

He twisted his head. "Dad, JD's hot."

A chair scraped and Chris was reaching over him to lay a hand on JD's forehead.

"Whass goin' on," Buck's voice from the other side of JD. When Vin lifted his head a little he could see Buck's eyes peering back at him just the other side of JD's chest, so close that he had to be leaning on the bed right next to JD.

"I'm going to get one of the nurses." Chris stood and looked at Vin. "They're probably going to want you to hop down from there, cowboy."

Vin tightened his grip. He burrowed deeper into the bedding, and ignored his father. He heard a sigh, and a hand patted his shoulder. "I'll see what I can do."

"Hold on, little bit," Buck's voice murmured tenderly, and Vin lifted his head again to see what was going on. Buck was wiping a cloth over JD's face, dabbing gently at the thin skin around his eyes and ears, pressing on his cheeks. JD's face was flushed, and his hair clung in damp strands to his skin.

"Is that cos of you?" Vin whispered, pointing to the moisture on JD's face. Buck's eyes were strained, and he looked at Vin as though weighing whether or not to tell Vin the truth, whether or not Vin could be trusted with it.

"No. I don't think so. I think he's got a little bit of a temperature." He poured some water from the jug on the bedside table onto the cloth and resumed wiping it over JD's hot skin. "They said he'd probably get one. He hurt his feet and got them mucky -- did anyone tell you this?" Vin shook his head. "Well. They had to take some glass and stuff out. He's got twenty five stitches on the soles of his feet, as well that bright old cast of his. Plus," he sighed and his hand stilled as he looked sadly down at JD, "he fell in a river. God knows what he swallowed before they got him out."

Vin's eyes widened and his heart sank. "Is he going to die?"

"No," Buck said quietly. "He's just going to be pretty miserable for a while, aren't you, tiger?"

"Da?" JD's voice was rough, and he coughed. Vin felt his back shake against him and rubbed sympathetically at his shoulder. He'd had strep throat not so long ago, and it had hurt a lot.

JD rolled onto his back, and Vin shifted out of the way. "Vin!" JD's face lit up, and he pulled him close, tugging so hard that Vin nearly fell on him but for Buck's hands on his upper arms.

"Steady kids. JD, slow down. You've got to go easy on those ribs of yours."

"Sorry," JD said and wrapped his arms around Vin, who knelt over him and hugged back carefully. Vin tucked his face into the hot curve of JD's neck, and pressed a soft, silent kiss there, where no one could see it.

"You come home, JD," he said firmly, and sat back, his arms folded sternly over his chest and glaring at his little brother. "You don't go running off again."

"I *didn't*!" JD protested. "They came and I threw things at them and I think I hit one of 'em right in the bad place," he and Vin avoided looking at Buck, "cos he said a bad word, and they had black masks on, and one of them pinched me and I fell asleep." He looked at Vin and then away at Buck. "Why didn't ya come get me?"

"We didn't know where you were, lil' bit," Buck said gently. He touched the back of his hand to JD's forehead. "Vin, you're going to have to get down. Come and sit on my chair, okay. You can hold his hand from there. JD, we came as soon as we knew where you were. We came as soon as we could. I'll always come."

Vin wanted to say 'me too', but something stuck in his throat and the words wouldn't come out. Instead he clutched tighter at JD's hand until Buck lifted him away.

"Vin?" JD's eyes looked wildly for him, and Vin leaned forward onto the bed, throwing an accusing look at Buck. "Vin, where'd ya go?"

JD broke into soft sobs, and Buck swore. "Where's the damn nurse? In here every ten minutes while you're trying to sleep, and nowhere the second you need 'em."

"JD, JD, it's me." Vin patted his brother's face carefully. In the early morning light the bruises looked like JD hadn't washed in a month, and he knew how much they had to hurt.

"Vin?" JD sniffed and grabbed at his hand and buried his face against it. "Don't go 'way."

"Let's have a look, then," a crisp female voice broke the growing air of misery around the bed. "I'm Nurse Johnson." She slid an electronic thermometer into JD's ear, "Can you hold his head still?" she glanced at Buck. It pinged and she lifted it out. "Okay. How's your blood pressure doing?" She read off the various machines and gauges. "I'm going to take a little bit of blood, honey, okay? It'll just tug a bit." She took a phial full from the IV shunt.

"Da!"

"Ssssh, it's okay. It's okay." Buck concentrated on the little boy, trying not to see the nurse. JD's muffled sobs continued unabated as she filled in the chart and put it back on the end of the bed.

"There, all done, okay honey? Come on now, don't cry," she smiled at the little boy who quieted slowly, peering cautiously out from behind his and his brother's tightly wound hands, tears trickling messily down his face. "Is something hurting?" He shook his head, and she smiled at him, "Okay then." She turned to the father and added, "I'm going to have a chat with the doctor, and she'll come talk to you about what's happening."

Buck nodded silently. Vin jumped as a pair of hands rested on his shoulders. He looked up and saw Uncle Ezra looking down at him. He squeezed and Vin leaned back.

The nurse looked around the dismal faces and shook her head. "He's doing fine, really. He's only got a little bit of a temperature, about one-oh-two, and some kids'll hit that just from shock. If he goes any higher or stays there too long we'll probably want to intervene, but until then, you carry on with what you were doing." She smiled and nodded at the damp cloth still clutched in one of Buck's hands.

Buck grinned at her. "Thank you, sweetheart." The sun seemed to come out at his smile, and the nurse visibly straightened and smiled back.

"I'll be back in half an hour."

Ezra started laughing and Vin twisted round. "What's funny?"

"Nothing, Vincent. Nothing at all," he said with considerable emphasis. Buck looked at him and then at Chris leaning smirking at him against the door frame, and reddened, then started laughing too. Vin scowled in disgust at the three of them and snatched the almost dry cloth away from Buck, leaning forward to pat at JD's hands with it.

"Didya get her phone number, Da?" JD mumbled, and even Vin started to giggle.

------------------------------------------------

6.30 am, Spirit Lake Industrial Park

Seth Charles was not a happy man.

He was stuck off in the back of beyond in some pissant hick town. North Dakota, for God's sake. Who the hell lived in North Dakota! Lisa Kemp Hennessy, and her prissy ideas about the right way to commit a kidnapping.

If she hadn't insisted on coming along the kid could have been taped by twelve, and out with the last shipment of brats this morning. As it was, the shipment couldn't go because the all ports and airports notice was still out, and he was on the run in some lame ass town.

What was more, the chances were the bitch had rolled over on him. He'd seen her behind the cops as they broke into the damn room. He'd known they should have gone, but Kemp had told them to sit tight, and keep an eye out for his son. Charles smiled cruelly. Maybe Kyle Kemp Hennessy would be adequate recompense for losing his livelihood, and in all probability his freedom.

Or.

He looked thoughtfully up at the hospital. Pediatrics was on the fourth floor. The chances were good that was where the boy was. By now, some of his family were probably here. He'd seen the police cars rush someone through the doors late last night. Probably Larabee. Possibly Wilmington, though he would have had to have either gotten a charter flight or made very good time on the commercial ones to do it.

He turned away from the window and reached for the case that was the only thing he had taken from the car when he ditched it. He needed to know who was up there. Two phone calls later, he knew. Another call, and even in the dead of the night he found himself a team. Right now they were waiting for his go ahead.

A cold smile spread over his face. Wilmington was as good as dead. It would be a pleasure, both professionally and personally to kill him. The rest of Team Seven and their two brats? Just a bonus for being a bad, bad boy.

All he had to do was get in. And that was no trouble at all.

------------------------------------------------

9 am, Jamestown Community Hospital

A knock on the door woke JD, who grinned at his uncles as they came into the room.

"Hello there, JD," Nathan smiled, and ruffled his hair.

"Ssssh," JD said firmly. Buck was asleep on one side of him, his head resting on the bed, and Vin was on the other sprawled out against JD's side. Chris was snoring, mouth open, on the next bed. Only Ezra was awake, sitting next to JD, his gun held loosely between his knees, out of JD's sight. He nodded at his colleagues.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, and Josiah shrugged, wincing as he did so. He stretched and his back cracked audibly.

"Chairs," he rumbled, and shook his head.

"Not designed for the human back," Nathan added, lifting JD's chart to examine it. "You're doing pretty well there, aren't you, squirt?"

"Yup!" He bounced slightly in the bed. The nurse had taken his temperature again and given him a sucker for being a clever boy and dropping back to ninety nine degrees. "Look, Nurse Lillian gave it me cos I don't have a temperature any more."

"Well, that's good," Josiah said, and eased himself into yet another small hard chair. "The things we suffer in the name of family," but he was smiling so JD grinned at him.

"Did you see my leg? I broke it." He rapped on the cast. "Nurse Lillian says it's fiber glass, does that mean it's made from glass? Why can't I see through it if it's made from glass? That'd be cool, cos I could see the broken bits."

"The broken bit is inside your leg JD. You wouldn't be able to see it even if the cast wasn't there," Nathan explained with a grin, knowing this would only satisfy the inquisitive child for a moment.

"Oh. Uncle Nathan?"

"Yes, JD?"

"Why does they keep saying they're going to look at it if they can't see anything?"

"Because you can see the outside of your leg, and that can tell you if there's something not right inside, and then they can do x-rays to take a picture of the bones on the inside."

"Cool! Can I have some x-rays?"

"You've already had some, I expect," Nathan smiled at him. "Everyone's asleep, aren't they."

JD's expression clearly indicated that his foster fathers and Vin were lightweights. "*I'm* awake."

Ezra rolled his eyes, "Indeed you are, Master Dunne." Nathan laughed.

"Haven't had your coffee yet," he asked with some amusement.

"I don't see why you two are looking so chipper," Ezra muttered.

Josiah caught Buck's eyelid flicker and the wry look that crossed his face briefly. He wasn't fast enough.

"Da?" JD bent over Buck's face and peeled the eyelid open. "Da?"

"Morning, brat," Buck yawned enormously. JD poked a finger at Buck's mouth and snatched it back giggling as Buck snapped his teeth closed with an audible click. "Hey, I was going to eat that! Haven't had any breakfast yet."

"*I* had bre'fast," JD said smugly. "I had cornflakes an' toast, an' two kindsa juice, an' hot chocolate cos I asked nicely, an' peanut butter an' jelly," he listed off. "Only Vin ate all the jelly."

"Didn't," Vin objected, and crawled out from under the covers to sit cross-legged next to JD's cast. He tapped it thoughtfully a couple of times, and then started drumming on it with his fingers.

"Did. I only had *this* much," and he held his fingers up right next to his eye pinched together with almost no light showing through, "left. And there was extra hot chocolate cos Nurse Lillian said Vin shouldn't've drunk all mine cos I was poorly. So."

"Didn't -- you drank it too."

"Did too."

"Didn't."

"Did."

They both paused. Chris hadn't moved. Buck was laughing, and so were the rest of their uncles. Somehow the fun of having an argument that they knew would annoy the men was lost when they just sat and grinned inanely at them instead of telling them to behave.

"Was good hot choc'late," Vin conceded.

"Wouldn'a drunken it all anyway," JD offered, and looked around purposefully. "Uncle Ezra?"

"What can I do for you?"

"Can I have a spoon?"

Ezra looked at him thoughtfully, and at Vin, still drumming absently on the cast. Time and experience had rendered him wise to the proclivities of small boys. "I'll bring two, but they are going to be plastic."

"Ohhh."

"Plastic or not at all."

Buck frowned. Chris groaned, still pretending to be asleep. Moments later Ezra returned and handed the boys two spoons each which they promptly started banging on the cast.

And the fire alarm went off.

------------------------------------------------

Larabee's every instinct, inbuilt or learned flared. He rolled off the bed and rose smoothly to his feet. "Ezra, Josiah. Check with the door guards. Find cover and back them up."

The two named nodded, and both pulled out, loaded and put away their guns. The boys watched wide-eyed as Ezra checked two ankle rigs, a wrist rig, one in the small of his back, and one conventionally holstered in a shoulder rig. They seemed disappointed when Josiah only produced two weapons. The difference between the smaller caliber guns Ezra favored, and the Glock 17 and smaller back holstered SIG Sauer worn by Josiah made no impact on them -- they only saw the quantity of hardware.

Vin watched worriedly, and Ezra paused to ruffle his hair. "You'll be fine, Master Tanner."

"Ain't worried about *us*. You be careful." His glare was pure Larabee, and his father grinned at his two agents and jerked a thumb at him.

"What he said."

"We will be entirely safe, Vin," Josiah said firmly, and Vin simply nodded. The two men slipped out of the room and closed the door behind them.

"Buck, Nate. Get the boys out of sight. I'm going to check in with the staff." He pulled and checked his guns and brushed a kiss over JD's head, wrapped an arm around Vin and hugged him hard into his chest. "Vin, look after JD. Do what Buck and Nate tell you. JD, you mind what Buck and Nathan and Vin tell you."

"Yessir," both boys said, huddling closer together, Vin shifting to conceal JD, JD shrinking in on himself.

"Is that safe?" Buck asked as Chris followed Standish and Sanchez out of the room.

Nathan was already removing the remaining IV. "It's antibiotics, but he's already responded well to them. They'll probably move him to oral later today anyway. Hold still, JD. It won't harm him if we take it out now for a little while." He answered Buck's frown before the man had a chance to speak.

JD watched with interest as the tube was tied off from IV shunt, and then the shunt itself with its long needle was slowly pulled from the back of his hand. Nathan pressed a cotton ball over it firmly and took JD's other hand. "Press hard." JD nodded and held it hard enough that his fingers whitened. Nathan pulled the needle the rest of the way and dropped it into the hazardous waste bin. "Good boy. Vin, there's a roll of tape on the shelf -- that's the one." Vin jumped down from the bed and ran to the requested item and brought it back.

He took it from Vin and quickly tore off four strips, "And there are some dressings on the shelf underneath. Right. Open that and when I say, JD, you lift the cotton ball up and Vin put the big band aid on. Okay? Okay. Go."

The boys moved quickly, and Nathan nodded. "Good. JD, press back down, that's still bleeding." He quickly added pressure to the small wound by taping the cotton ball tightly against it. "Mind your fingers." JD whisked his fingers out just in time to avoid getting permanently caught. "Hey, nearly gotya," he smiled.

"No, you didn't," JD contradicted, but his heart wasn't in it.

Buck produced a heavy fleece jacket and slipped JD's arms in it. As he did the zip up the front he said, "Vin, get dressed. The case is behind you."

Vin stripped out of his pajamas, his back to the others, and dressed in short order, jeans, t-shirt, sweater, socks, sneakers. Buck finished dressing JD, pulling a pair of Vin's sweat pants over the casted leg, and rolling it at the hips and uncasted ankle to allow his feet to peep out. He lifted the boy to the floor where he wobbled on one foot until Buck steadied him. He pulled the pants up and tucked the waist under the fleece.

"You warm enough?" He asked seriously.

JD nodded.

"You do *exactly* as we say, understand?"

"Yessir," he whispered, and Buck hugged him tightly.

"Love ya lil' bit."

"Love ya, Da."

He didn't twitch at the familiar sound of Nathan checking his weapon, but both boys turned in fascination as Nathan inserted a new clip and pulled a spare from his bag and slid it into a pocket on the holster.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Buck snapped, "JD, down. Vin."

JD dropped to the floor, and Vin disappeared under the nearest bed.

"Larabee," a familiar voice called, and the two men relaxed, Nathan by the door, back against the wall ready to take out anyone breaking in, Buck half concealed behind the nearest bed, using it as a gun rest.

"Clear."

Chris slid inside. "Okay. No fire evacuation, but I have strongly recommended they clear the premises. Police back up should be here in ten minutes, max. The other kids on this floor are being moved elsewhere right now. We should --"

"No!" Vin protested, as Buck shook his head.

"Nice idea, pard, but if we all split up it gives him twice the chance to get at the boys."

"And you."

Buck shrugged. Vin saw the dawning panic in JD's eyes and scrambled over to him. "Buck'll be fine, we're all gonna be fine."

The adults grinned wryly at the firm declaration, but said nothing.

"You're sure it's him?"

Larabee shrugged. "Timing's pretty damn convenient if it ain't."

"The others?"

"Ez in the nurses' station. Josiah's in the break room. We've moved a couple of vending machines to give a better line of sight and give the guys at the door some cover." He didn't add anything. The boys didn't need to know what all the adults did, that if Charles was coming, the police officers waiting outside the door would be the first casualties. "Vin, get JD into the corner, behind the bed. That's it." He smiled grimly as the two boys crawled carefully across the room, Vin trying to take some of JD's weight. "Buck, you're with them." He jerked his head at the children. "Nate, help me shift the beds." They swiftly turned three of the four beds onto their sides, forming a barricade that should more than protect from all but the worst gunfire.

Buck knelt in front of the two boys, his eyes on the door. He pulled his own guns and loosened his shoulders. "I'm set, Chris."

"Nate."

"Check."

Chris's lips tightened. "Wish we had some way of communicating with--" his phone rang. "Larabee. Ez?" There was a long pause, and he nodded curtly, despite knowing perfectly well the man couldn't see him. "Good work. I'll keep the line open. Nate, call Josiah. Ezra's taken down the cell phone jammers." He pulled a cable from his coat pocket and hooked up the hands free rig, Nathan followed suit.

And then they waited.

------------------------------------------------

Charles nodded to the team of men as they spread out through the stairs. Four up the back way. Five and himself up the freight elevator. They hit the fourth floor silently.

"Team one: team two in position."

"Copy team two. Team one moving in." He glanced at the men he'd hired in for the job. "No witnesses. I'll deal with Wilmington."

The men nodded, pulling their weapons. "Let's go."

The men streamed through the doors, spreading out. They moved ahead of him, checking rooms as they went. The place seemed deserted until they came around the corner to find a pair of cops standing in front of what had to be the brat's room.

"Jamestown PD. Throw down your weapons and get down."

"Whenever you like, boys," Charles said casually, and smiled as gunfire filled the hospital corridor. Beside him one of his men spun and fell, and he dropped back, taking cover in a doorway as he looked for the shooter. One of the cops fell behind a vending machine and he grinned.

"Standish! Behind you!" A voice yelled from near him and he turned to find himself facing a man as tall and nearly as heavily built as himself. A gun shot and a scream took out another man, probably one of his since the gunfire kept coming. The man in front of him swung at him with a massive fist, and he dodged and pulled a knife, ramming it upwards, only to find it jammed in the plates of concealed body armor. The man grabbed the handle of the knife and wrenched away from him, slamming his other hand, the one holding a Glock, into the side of his head.

He staggered, then shook his head, just as a gun went off at almost point blank range beside him, and the big man crumpled. He nodded to the man who'd killed his assailant, and ran crouched low to the floor towards the doorway. Both cops were down, one silent, the other struggling for his gun. He stamped on the man's hand and kicked the gun away with his other foot.

"Get those machines down. And someone get rid of that guy," he snapped as someone's bullet damn near took a chunk of his shoulder. Would have if he hadn't moved at exactly the right moment.

The two vending machines fell to the floor with a crash, almost concealing the single gunshot at the far end of the corridor. There was silence.

Charles tapped lightly at the walls. "Plasterboard. Clear the room for me, boys."

The remaining four of his formerly nine man team took aim at the thin walls of the target room, and opened fire, pouring clips into it, raking from floor to ceiling as they went.

Charles raised a hand, and the firing stopped. "You, you. In. There may still be survivors."

The two men looked at each other. "I'll take high and left." The other nodded. "On three. One two--" they kicked the door in and flew back, riddled with bullets. Charles scowled, he was down to two men. He looked over his shoulder and only found one. Damn. That meant the shooter down the other end had taken out the guy he'd sent to kill him. There was no shooting anywhere, so at least the man had finished the job before getting himself killed. His face twitched in a grim smile. Saved himself most of the paycheck too.

"There's at least one man alive in there." he said softly. "I'm going in. If I don't come out, I want you to kill whoever walks out of there." He gestured at a cover position in an opposite room. The lone remaining man nodded, and slipped quietly into the room, mostly closing the door.

At least one gunman, it could be a two fisted gunman. It could be more men, but he doubted they'd have the self control to not fire. So, two men down in there. The boy was probably still alive. Sentimentality on the part of the ATF team probably meant that it was the boy's father that was with him, the last one standing, and a vicious grin spread over his face. Wilmington was going to lose his entire team around him, and then his son, before he too was killed. It couldn't get any better.

Charles didn't care in the least about the bodies strewn behind him. He just wanted into that room, to get his revenge. He was even arrogant enough to believe that he could survive it.

------------------------------------------------

He could hear Vin's heart beating. His own breathing sounded amazingly loud in his ears, rattling harshly, and he closed his eyes. His chest hurt when he breathed, and he was too hot with his face buried in Vin's chest. Vin's arms were wrapped around him too tight, but he didn't protest. Neither of them had spoken a word since Buck's hand had stroked his face, and withdrawn. He knew Vin was scared too. He'd shuddered with the first sounds of gunfire. It was closer than they had ever heard it, and it sounded like it would never end.

His back was tight up against the corner of the room, the two of them crouched there.

"Down! Get down!" Chris yelled, and Vin shook harder.

"Nate!" Da's voice, and JD struggled to see over Vin's shoulder, pushing up against the hand on his head.

"Stay where you are!" Chris again, yelling harshly.

"Stay down, JD," Vin ordered, twisting his head to look behind himself.

Buck was crouched motionlessly between them and the bed barricade. JD whimpered as he realised he couldn't see Chris or Nathan's heads above it on the other side. The walls were riddled with holes.

"Vin..." he wailed, more scared than he'd ever been in his whole life.

"It's okay, JD, it's going to be all right." JD looked into Vin's eyes and saw the lie, and the fear there too.

"Shit!" Nathan swore viciously, and the sound of both guns in the room stopped.

"Chris!" Buck hissed urgently, "Chris, get up."

"Dad!" Vin let go of JD and turned.

"Vin, stay where you are, JD, stop him." Buck snapped. "I don't have time for this. Nate, can you get him back here, I'll cover."

Nathan appeared a second later dragging Chris after him. Bright blood smeared a trail on the floor and matted his hair. Nathan lay him down hurriedly and turned to leave the protection of the barricade.

"It's not serious. Just knocked him out," he said hastily, and disappeared.

Vin was white, and JD had to grip his body with both arms, hard enough to make his chest hurt worse to stop him from going to him.

"Chris!" Vin whispered hopelessly.

"He's breathing," JD whispered.

"Get him back, boys," Buck said, sparing a glance for them. The two of them leaned forward in the small space and grabbed Chris's shirt, shoulders, anything they could get a purchase on, pulling until he was lying along the back wall, his head in Vin's lap. Vin bent his head over Chris's, patting his face gently.

"Chris, wake up! Wake up! Dad, please wake up!" He spoke softly but steadily, it was the only sound in the silence. JD looked from the two of them to Buck's back, the man kneeling completely still, gun aimed at the door.

"Stay where you are, kids," he whispered. "We'll be fine."

JD crawled painfully over to him, and curled up on the floor beside him, one hand gripping his father's ankle.

"Get back, lil'bit," Buck's voice was soft, and a hand stroked at his hair, cupped his cheek. "Stay back where you're safe."

"Safe here," he said quietly. He rubbed his face into his father's hand. This was almost worse than anything, ever. Vin wasn't hurt, but Chris was, and he was horribly afraid that his uncles were too.

The door slammed open and the hand vanished, Buck's body tensing above him. Gunshots rang out, two, three, four, loud above his head. "Got you, you bastards. Nate, get your ass behind here." He dropped his clip and snapped another one in place. It was hot when JD touched it.

Nathan appeared a couple of seconds later. "I think it's just Charles left." he said quickly and quietly. "Couldn't see anyone else when they blew back."

"No sign of--" Buck stopped, and Nathan shook his head once.

"None."

"Damn. God damn him."

"You okay for ammo?"

"Yeah. Got Chris's weapon too if I run out."

"Nathan, he isn't waking up," Vin said calmly, his hands clasping Chris's head. JD looked closer at him, and saw tears running silently down his face. He sobbed, once, and Buck's hand ruffled his hair briefly.

"Be brave, little'un," Buck murmured, under cover of Nathan's voice.

"He's been creased by a bullet. It ain't good, but it ain't bad, as these things go. He'll have a hell of a headache--"

"You in there! You're out numbered. Drop your weapons and send out Wilmington, and I'll let the rest of you go."

All four of them froze. JD's eyes flickered between Buck and Nathan as they communicated silently in seconds. He knew that voice. It belonged to the man who had grabbed him when he'd thrown things at them at Mrs. Potter's house. The same man who'd kicked him when he'd tried to stop them putting him inside a crate. The man who slapped his face so hard that one of his teeth came out. He wondered if Da knew.

"Throw down your weapons, and we'll see to it you survive till trial," Buck called back.

"You're the last man left, Wilmington. Is your boy in there? You want him to see you die?"

JD's fist gripped tighter on his father's ankle. "Da..."

"He isn't going to." Buck murmured reassuringly. "I promise, JD."

"They're all dead out here. Who was it? Jackson? Standish? I killed Sanchez myself. And your back up, the cannon fodder at the door."

"Da?"

Buck tilted his head thoughtfully. "He's being awful quiet for a guy with all the cards and a team of gunmen."

"I was thinking that myself." Nathan whispered back, easing himself to his knees the other side of Buck, his eyes fixed on the room beyond the bed.

"Maybe Ez and Josiah took some of them with." Buck said tightly, and Nathan nodded, once.

JD felt tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to think about it. Chris was just sleeping. He was going to wake up. And Uncle Ezra would be fine, he was *always* fine. And so was Uncle Josiah. He was too big and strong to get hurt. And Da and Uncle Nathan and Vin were going to keep him away.

But he couldn't stop the tears escaping and trickling into his sleeve, however hard he rubbed his eyes.

"Come out of there!"

No one moved or spoke, as if by some unspoken agreement they all listened intently.

A footfall. Another.

"If I have to shoot y'all, I'll kill the boys first, start with the little one. I owe him some licks. And then the older one, what is he, eight? nine? Pretty kid, I hear too. Or maybe I should keep both of them alive. Wait till he's healed up and make some profit off their pretty little butts."

"Steady," Nathan said so quietly JD could hardly hear it.

"I'm going to kill him," Buck said softly, reflectively, in a voice JD had never heard before.

"I know," Nathan spoke as quietly.

"Y'know, if that stupid cow hadn't dragged us all up here, that brat would have been halfway to his new home by now."

"Steady."

"I can make the shot."

Buck's foot began to twitch under JD's hand, and he wrapped a second one around it without thinking, to keep it still. His eyes were fixed on Buck's hands. They were rock steady, in a line with the door, holding his gun. Da was going to stop him.

"A little more. Make it sure."

It was going to be all right.

"Come on you bastard, another inch. That's it. Show your ugly face so I can give you a kiss you won't forget. Another inch..." he whispered.

"Wilmington?" the man's voice yelled again.

"Nearly there."

Two guns fired at the same moment.

------------------------------------------------

Adrian Brown followed the SWAT team into the Pediatric unit, looking around him in horror. The place was like a war zone, everywhere he looked there were bodies.

"Got a live one!" A hand waved and a pair of paramedics hurried over to the black clad marksman. Brown stared, then hurried after them as they were about to cuff him.

"That's Agent Sanchez, ATF. He was one of the men protecting the boy," he said quickly. "How bad?"

"Looks like his armor took most of the shot. He's gonna have some horrible bruising. I'd guess it was pretty damn near to point blank, but it didn't go through. One in a billion."

"Why's he unconscious?"

The paramedic gently ran his fingers over the man's head. "Ah, here we go. I guess he probably hit the wall with the force of the shot. Not serious." He stood.

"In here!" A man's voice, and Brown, the paramedic and two of the SWAT team stepped over the bodies lying in the doorway.

Brown flinched. Another paramedic was working over Richard Kim's body. Someone had draped a sheet over Gary Fines. The officers assigned for door protection. Cold gripped him. Had the child been saved?

The doorway itself was blocked by a large body. A man, dark haired, broad shouldered.

"Any ID on this one yet?" He frowned at the bloody wounds on its back, trying to make sense of them.

"Nothing." The SWAT man crouched by it stood, wiping his gloved hands on his pants.

"What's going on there?" He gestured at the man's back curiously.

"An exit *and* an entry wound?" one of the SWAT guys suggested, and Brown nodded after a second, separating out the two distinctive wounds despite the blood soaked clothing.

"Who's there?" Another voice from inside the hospital room. Guns lifted, pointing into the room.

"Jamestown Police. Hands in the air!" the SWAT team leader snapped. "Identify yourselves and throw down your weapons."

"All at once? I'm amazed at your ability to multitask under less than optimal conditions. There is an injured ATF agent and a couple of very scared little boys here. I would surely appreciate you keeping the yelling to a dull roar."

Brown grinned. "That's another of the ATF guys. Standish?" he called.

"Identify yourself."

"Adrian Brown. Jamestown PD. We dealt with the--"

"Ah, yes. Please excuse my momentary lapse of concentration."

"Momentary lapse my ass," another, unfamiliar voice growled. "I need a paramedic here, one minor gsw to the head, patient unconscious for ten minutes and counting. One gsw to upper left torso, patient as aggravating as ever."

The SWAT team leader edged cautiously around the three beds tilted onto their edges and leaning against each other in a massive barricade. He fingered one of the bullet holes in the mattress and whistled under his breath, taking in the sheer quantity of ammunition that had been let loose in the tiny room. Brown followed.

Behind the beds there was chaos. One man was lying along the wall, his bloody head in the lap of a blond boy who was stroking with hypnotic intensity along his face, his hands red stained and trembling.

A big black man was crouched next to Standish who was propped up against the bed, a hand pressed to his shoulder. As he watched blood welled up between his fingers and spilled slowly down the back of his hand.

"You're losing blood faster than I can stop it," the black guy said accusingly, and Brown frowned.

"I shall endeavor to amend my errant ways forthwith," Standish replied sarcastically, his face growing whiter by the moment.

Brown waved the paramedic through who took one look and called for a gurney. "I'm going to get this one downstairs. Name?"

"Agent Ezra Standish," the man said faintly. "I do beg your pardon, but I do not believe I shall be able to remain conscious much longer." His hand slipped from his shoulder, and his eyes half closed.

"Damn. He needs blood, stat. He's AB positive, awkward little shit," the black guy stood away as Standish was lifted onto a gurney and hurried away. "Nathan Jackson. ATF. I'm also a qualified paramedic." He held out a bloody hand, looked at it, and shrugged. "Sorry, I won't shake."

Brown shook his head. "No problem." He looked around. "Where's the kid?" he asked urgently, not seeing him.

"There." Jackson nodded to the far corner of the room.

A tall, dark haired man was sat facing into the corner between the wall and the upturned bed, he was rocking slowly, and Brown took a couple of steps forwards before he recognised the odd bunching on his back as a pair of small arms, fists clenched tight into the man's shirt.

"Is he..."

"Buck Wilmington. JD's father." Nathan smiled sadly. "That's JD hidden under him."

He moved slowly closer.

"Agent Wilmington?"

The man ignored him. He could just about make out someone humming softly, tunelessly, broken with soft whispers.

"Agent Wilmington, are you okay? Is JD injured?"

"He's fine. We're both fine. Now go away." He didn't even lift his head to look at Brown. The humming resumed.

He looked back at Jackson who shook his head and sighed. He looked over to the wall and the unconscious man lying there. "You guys need to be careful there. Vin, do you want to come with me?"

Paramedics were rolling Larabee onto another gurney, despite the death grip of the blond boy on him.

The boy shook his head, and turned to look at the two in the corner. Wilmington's head turned and an arm reached out. In a moment the child was huddled up against him. Muscles bunched on the man's back, and he stood. JD was clinging to his neck, legs around his waist, and he held him close one arm under him to support his weight. The other boy was standing against him, plastered up against his side, and his free arm draped over his shoulders.

"Vin needs to stay with Chris," Wilmington's voice was firm, and Brown nodded.

"I'll talk to the doctors."

"*I*'ll talk to the doctors," he replied flatly. "And the boys are staying with me, or with one of the team at all times. I don't care what rules we break. We're staying together."

Brown nodded and stepped back to let them follow Larabee. Before Jackson could follow, he stopped him.

"What the hell happened here?"

"Seth Charles tried to do what better men than him have failed at. Ez and Josiah took down most of the men he sent in. Chris, Buck and I took care of the rest." Jackson shrugged and looked at the smear of blood on the wall where Standish had been sitting. "Then Standish jumped in where he wasn't needed. Damn fool nearly killed himself taking a shot Buck had already made."

Brown swallowed and nodded. The two men walked out of the grim little room, and as Jackson walked away to follow his team mates down to Emergency, Brown backtracked the trail of blood as it crawled and staggered up the corridor, a smear on the wall here. A bloody handprint there. A streak along the floor where perhaps he fell and simply crawled on three limbs, the other dripping in a steady line, smeared over as his knees slid through.

A pool of blood behind the nurses' station, where another man lay dead, a tiny hole dead between his eyes, the back of his head blown away completely.

He looked back down the corridor and imagined dragging himself, so injured he could barely walk, to where a ruthless man prepared to murder his friends. His friends, and two boys that he thought of as his own kin for all they were the adopted sons of two of his colleagues.

He thought of a boy, silent and still, cradling his unconscious father. And another boy, wrapped up so close in his father's arms that their dark hair merged and blended indistinguishably. Two little boys comforting grown men. Five men building a last stand for those same boys behind a flimsy barricade improvised from hospital beds and their own bodies. Damn near dying for them.

He shook his head slowly. And smiled with deep satisfaction.

"Sleep now," he said softly, to the air. "I'll keep the watch."

------------------------------------------------

Chris woke slowly and painfully to the sound of a steady beeping. He squeezed one eye open, and shut it immediately, it hurt so much. He lay there gathering his strength and processing the little information he had gathered in that brief glance.

The lights were low. Either he was deep inside a building or it was nighttime. He slowly became aware of a warm heaviness along his right side moving out of sync with his breathing. He turned his head and risked a second look. The top of Vin's head met his gaze, and he relaxed, letting his eyes slide shut once more.

"Hey, pard, how's it going?" Buck's voice was soft and he slowly squinted up towards it. Buck was smiling down at him.

"Good," he whispered hoarsely. "Boys?"

"Fine. Ezra's had a bullet taken out of his shoulder. Josiah's bruised and praising the maker of his vest. I'm fine. Nathan's exhausted keeping an eye on you and Ez."

"Vin? JD?"

"Asleep." Buck smiled. "JD's getting back to himself already. They've promised him a walking cast in four weeks if he goes on the way he has been."

"Quick," Chris said slowly.

Buck's face clouded. "Nah. Been a couple of days, pard."

"Days?" he asked, confused.

"Go back to sleep. It'll be better in the morning."

Chris closed his eyes obediently and fell into dreamless sleep in seconds.

When he woke again his head didn't hurt so badly, and someone was fiddling with his hair.

"Wha'?"

"Dad!"

"Chris!"

"Hush!"

The three voices blended almost into one and he smiled, and cracked his eyes open a little. Vin was leaning right over him and he grinned straight up into the worried blue eyes, promising silently that he was fine, that he was awake, was going to stay awake.

The bed shook on the other side from Vin and he turned his head slowly to find JD bouncing there.

"Hi Chris! You stayin' awake this time?" He leaned in fast enough that Chris flinched, then stopped and pressed a gentle if sloppy kiss on his forehead. "You feelin' better now?"

He couldn't help smiling. "Yeah." He lifted a leaden hand up to cradle Vin's face. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Someone groaned in the background, and he tried to see who it was, but his view was blocked by Vin. "Who's there?"

"Mr. Larabee, I think you will find that the hospital has recently banned the use of 'fine' as a self diagnosis, and has opted for the more personal touch, such as 'I have a raging headache from the concussion rendered when I foolishly put my head in the way of a bullet."

"Knew you'd make it, you damn fool." Chris growled happily.

"It was never in question that we would all of us make it."

"Josiah?"

"Right here, brother."

"Nate? Buck?"

"Sleeping," Josiah told him. "Those two boys can take a lot out of a man even when they're just trying to help," he added ruefully, and Chris snickered quietly.

"I believe Mr. Jackson said something about speaking to a member of the medical fraternity when Mr. Larabee awoke."

Vin nodded. "I'll get 'em." He pressed the call button above the bed, and smiled down at his father, laying a gentle hand on his forehead. "Not hot."

"He rattled his brains some," JD said cheerfully. "Da said he'd be fine."

Vin giggled. "Da said he'd be as ornery as ever, and meaner'n a snake with backache when he woke up."

"As Master Dunne stated," Ezra said, "'fine'." Josiah laughed as the nurse walked in.

"Well, that's good to hear. Feeling better, Mr. Sanchez?"

"Fine, Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Standish?"

"Fine, dear lady."

"And Mr. Larabee," she turned to him with a grin. "Let me guess, you're fine too?"

Chris nodded, chuckling silently.

"Splendid. Then you won't mind me just doing this." She shone a light into each of his eyes in quick succession ignoring his wince and the streaming tears. "Good. Or this?" She probed carefully at a streak of fire down the side of his skull." She started to pull the sheets back. "Now, I just want to check on your catheter..." Chris's hand gripped her wrist and she found herself fixed with an icy glare.

"It's no good, Chris," Josiah said with mock sympathy. "She's not doing anything she hadn't already..."

"That was then. This is now."

To his surprise and annoyance she laughed. "I'll just leave it in shall I?"

"Boys, get down. Draw the curtains." Vin slithered down immediately, JD took a little longer, and he suddenly remembered why and reached out just as the boy disappeared off the side of the bed. "JD?" Two hands appeared, clinging to the bed rail, followed by a grinning face.

"I'm real good at hopping. Look!" JD hopped twice, then Josiah swooped down and picked him up as he over balanced with the weight of the cast.

"Out!"

Twenty minutes later, all embarrassing procedures completed, he was starting to feel that fuzzy warmth that meant the pain medication was kicking in. Vin was lying on his chest, staring down at him solemnly, and he smiled at him

"You okay?"

Vin grinned. "I'm *fine*."

Chris groaned. "Wake me when it's time to go home." He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, one hand resting contentedly on the back of Vin's neck.

------------------------------------------------

"Mr. Wilmington, Mr. Larabee," Elza Kohen smiled at them from behind her desk. "I just want to reassure you that JD is doing very well."

She smiled at the two men. Mr. Wilmington leaned forward and smiled back, his deep blue eyes twinkling. Mr. Larabee looked in pain, even though the only real sign of his original injury was a line of sutures that ran horizontally across his scalp above his right ear.

"When can he get out of the cast?" Buck asked.

Elza grinned. "Asking already is he?"

Both men nodded, and she laughed. "Bed rest --or as close as you can manage without physically tying him down for another three weeks. Take him to his pediatrician, and she'll examine him, and change the cast to a walking one if he's ready."

"Four weeks?!" Mr. Wilmington looked incredulous. "How the hell, beggin' your pardon ma'am, how the heck are we going to keep him *anywhere* for four weeks?"

Larabee grinned. "We'll think of something."

Elza chuckled. "Anyway. The break is over one of the growth plates, but we're pretty sure we reduced it within a couple of hours of the break occurring. Time really is critical in these cases, and if he had to break a leg, everything else went in his favor. She'll want to do some follow-up x-rays or an MRI to make sure it's all knitting well. I hope that he should be ready for a walking cast in two or three weeks, which should give those cuts a chance to heal up completely, and he's probably going to be running around pretty soon after that." She smiled at them, and the guys smiled back.

"Thank you," Wilmington stood and held out a hand. "Thank you so much for looking after him."

"Buck," Chris growled faintly, and Buck smiled into her eyes before letting go of her hand.

Elza blinked at Mr. Larabee who shook her hand and said gruffly, "Don't pay him any attention, ma'am."

"I won't," she smiled back. "I'd say it's been a pleasure, but," she looked ruefully down the corridor to where builders were tearing down part of the Pediatric unit wall that was simply too damaged to just repair. "No offense, but I think we'll be glad when you're safely on your way home."

"Not half as glad as we are, ma'am," Mr. Wilmington said in heartfelt tones. "No offense."

"None taken. Safe journey gentlemen."

She watched as Larabee staggered slightly and Wilmington shored him up with a hand gripping tightly at his shoulder. The last thing she heard was the taller man saying, "Let's go home, pard," as the door closed, and two small boys shouting 'Dad!' 'Da!'.

---

Continued in Before We Sleep

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fandoms listed herein. I am certainly making no money off of these creative fan tributes to a wonderful, fun show.