Warnings

By: Heather F

Librarian Note:

We have tried to reach Heather F, but have not gotten any replies. This story has been rescued. Since Lady Angel's Library (now M7FC) was already hosting some of Heather's other stories, we assumed implied permission to host this one as well. If you know how to reach the author, please ask her to contact us.

Disclaimers: No mine, no money made etc.

Acknowledgements: May Challenge…write a story but not a horror story where a supernatural element plays a role…or something to that effect.

Thanks: MOG ATF is her sand box…

Warnings: The usual…grammar and spelling challenged.

Spoilers: Nope

Feedback: flah7@smgazette.com

Written 5/6/02

Part 1

Chris Larabee strode down the corridor fighting the urge to punch something. His boot heels tolled with a muted intensity matched only by a twin set of heels that shadowed his pace. The aseptic smell of stringent cleaners and the clean but worn look of tiled floors were all too familiar to him. The noise level never seemed to decrease in these places except during late nights or early mornings and even then the occasion disruption would occur. He ignored the cautious looks people tossed at him while they backed out of his way. If pushed, it was the odor that disturbed him the most, sterile but knowing that certain 'bugs' could resist even ones best efforts to disinfect. Privacy and dignity certainly did not stand up in these places.

Larabee hated hospitals.

Vin Tanner had to agree.

"Of all the Gawd damn things to happen," Chris spoke to himself , but his voice and the frustration that laden it, traveled to his walking companion.

"Ain't his fault Chris," Tanner spoke quietly keeping his tone carefully neutral trying not to spark any arguments. Chris was right. The timing on this was terrible.

"I know, I know," Larabee knew but it did nothing to ease the disquiet and tired unrest that settled on his shoulders. They had too much going on right now to have to deal with something like this….and Why now of all times for something like this to happen?

Nurses and orderlies watched the two men stride past. Each one thankful that the duo continued walking and not stop to question or speak to them. Of the seven, Mr. Larabee proved the most volatile. Though, each of the Seven had their moments, Mr. Larabee was the most predictable in his unpredictableness. Mr. Wilmington was genial, and fun loving, but that tended to slip by the wayside when the young Mr. Dunne found himself sequestered away within the confines of these hallowed halls. Mr. Jackson was by far the most understanding but even his benevolent patience ran thin if he felt he was getting the run around or if full disclosure was not being met with any alacrity. Mr. Tanner, though quiet, was found to be intimidating in his silence and piercing gaze. Mr. Standish, when he, like Mr. Tanner or Mr. Dunne for that matter, found themselves as the waitee and not the waited on, could be as determined and bull headed as his fellow ATF agent. The genteel Southern attitude slipped down to abrasive if he found his time wasted with foolish condolences or half truths. Mr. Sanchez floundered in the dangerous blue of the eye of the storm…The man could twist in any direction like opposing winds of a hurricane. The worst by far, however, lay with Mr. Christopher Larabee.

It was with great relief that the nurses and orderlies watch the two leading members of Team Seven by pass them and head for the elevator.

Tammy at the reception desk had greeted them with a tight smile and a simple number…. "Room 528…second bank of elevators down the hall and to the right." Tanner had managed a tight 'thank you' smile. Larabee merely changed the direction of his stride.

Amongst those not involved with the new admittance, rumor had it, one of the Seven had fallen sick.

People backed away from the elevator as the doors chimed open. They would let these two predators ride alone and await the next set of cars.

Tanner leaned against the far wall of the elevator watching the floors tick by in the lighted lazy fashion of most elevators found in middle aged buildings around the country.

Floor Five.

Vin had never really visited this floor on purpose, certainly not to see one of the others. Normally they were relegated to floors six, eight or seven, trauma, surgery or unfortunately the ICUs…never floor five though.

At least it was something new. Change could be good…

The elevator dinged its arrival before it actually stopped. The car lifted slightly before settling heavily in its cable. The wide doors grudgingly started to peel apart.

Larabee slid sideways through the doors before they finished moving. He got his bearings and headed left down the hall.

Tanner sighed, floor 5 looked the same as all the others, even the same smell. So much for new, though the prints on the walls were different. Floor Five seemed to run the theme of water fowl. Floor six herald horses, while floor seven had safari animals and eight birds of prey. Five had ducks. Vin felt a twinge of disappointment. Water fowl didn't exactly instill him with any great emotion or wonder.

Tanner trailed behind Larabee until they reached room 528. The late afternoon sun, leaked through shuttered blinds on the end window of the hall. The weak natural light muted the artificial light that struggled to add some kind of comfort in a rather sparsely decorated hall. A picture of a Canada Goose hung by the last window caste in dimmed shadows. Not inspirational at all.

Chris stared at the number…528… for a moment, shook his head just before he shoved the door open. Gawd damn why did this have to happen now?

Josiah Sanchez looked up toward the door when he heard it push open. The man on the bed reacted to the noise and intrusion with a low moan and slowly shifted his legs. Sunken red eyes did not open. Sanchez dropped a comforting hand on the dirty dark hair hoping to convey some reassurance or comfort. The action failed and only resulted in the curled man to move away from the touch.

"What's going on Josiah?" Chris entered the room with out preamble or wasted breath on greetings. He wanted the score and needed to know how to adjust their plans to accommodate the wrench that had found its way into their gears.

His eyes never wandered to the Profiler. Instead, he focused on the undercover agent that now rolled onto his side and curl into a ball. Larabee took in the flush cheeks under pale skin, the drawn features and the chapped lips. The bed had been elevated slightly but Standish had managed to slip further down avoiding the incline. An IV fed the back of his right hand and had been taped in securely. Someone had been paying attention. The IV line was secured partially to Standish's forearm before the line veered off through disrupted blankets, over the raised rail and toward the clear IV bag. No orange tag graced the bag.

Larabee recognized that his undercover agent was only receiving fluids IV.

"Drs. aren’t sure just yet," Sanchez met his boss's gaze and then that of Tanner's. Concern graced the older man's features. He had not expected to spend his afternoon in the emergency Department and certainly not up here on the Fifth floor…and its Ducks.

The tracker nodded a brief 'Hello' but held his tongue. Josiah leaned forward in his chair at the bedside, unconsciously offering his mere presence as a form of protection and comfort. Standish shivered as another chill gripped his body. The undercover agent curled tighter into himself. The thin blanket slipped from his shoulders.

"Spinal Tap came back clean, his temp 's climbing still and their running blood tests and plan on doing a CT depending on what they get back with the other stuff." Sanchez pulled the white hospital blanket up over Ezra's shoulder's, doing his best to cover the partially exposed back. The hospital gown did little to offer security or warmth to its patients.

Chris nodded in silent understanding. Understanding that he would get no answers this afternoon, understanding that his undercover agent would not be able to participate in the warrants that were to be served at 3am, in another ten hours. He understood quite clearly that one of the key figures in helping bringing them to this point would be unable to see the conclusion of all their hard work.

Damn.

Larabee approached the bed, from the opposite side of Sanchez. Chris shook his head in disappointment. Disappointment not addressed to his stricken man but at the circumstances that brought them here. The leader of Team Seven reached out and laid a practiced hand on his undercover agent's forehead. Standish slept restlessly with his back to Sanchez. An unconscious attempt to block out the world, to hide from those that might help or hinder him while he was down.

Untrusting SOB.

Larabee felt the heat. Gawd Damn.

Standish moved away from the hand and burrowed his chin tighter to his chest. He apparently found no comfort in a touch. He trembled again as chills rocked his body.

"Temp was up to 105.2 when I brought him in," Josiah remarked. He closed his eyes and settled down in the hard plastic chair. He had decided to drop in on Standish at lunch time. See how their undercover agent had been faring. Standish had called Larabee at home that morning, taking the day off, a cold….Feeling a little under the weather but had assured his boss that he would be ready for the warrants. Three months of hard work would not be ignored. Ezra, like the rest of the team, had given up twelve weeks of their lives to nail these calculating individuals.

Josiah had had an unsettled feeling all morning. It had magnified when Larabee strolled into the office without a word until JD had asked when Ezra would be in…wires had to be adjusted….At lunch, Josiah could no longer ignore the sense of dread that had plagued him all morning. He had listened to that little voice that hammered in the back of his mind and had driven out to Ezra's Condo.

Thank God he had.

Forty-five minutes later Josiah was in the Emergency Department helping hold the Southerner still, in a fetal position, while a Doctor did a Lumbar puncture.

The undercover agent fluctuated between a restless slumber, incoherency, and delirium. Josiah had called Larabee from the E.D.

Now, a few hours later, with plans for 'tonight's' warrant made, Larabee skipped from the office with his sharpshooter, to check on the progress of his undercover agent.

"Go home Josiah," Chris directed with quiet authority. He stalled any arguments that were sure to follow his command, "Buck's on his way over with JD and Nathan, we'll stay till they get here." Larabee then pulled his eyes from his downed agent to Sanchez, "I need you to be up to snuff for tonight." The cool look in the hazel eyes were not without sympathy but Chris would be damned if he were back in this damnable hospital because someone got hurt tonight because they were unprepared.

Tanner waited patiently behind the profiler ready to take the responsibility that Josiah had assumed.

Sanchez stood and stretched. Brother Chris made good sense. The ex-anthropologist let his arms drop to his side as he caught Chris's eye, "sometimes he thinks he's under…and sometimes he thinks his cover’s been blown…."

Larabee nodded in understanding. Damn fevers.

Josiah made to turn and head for the door but stopped before he actually took a single step. "Oh and he keeps going on about a boat capsizing and JD and Buck getting crushed," Josiah stood beside the bed and watched as Standish once again started struggling with unseen demons. "Not sure where that’s coming from," Sanchez looked back to Chris hoping he would have some insight as to what the other man's words were about.

Chris shook his head slowly. He had no idea.

Tanner leaned forward in the chair as Standish's movements became more frantic, heated. Ezra rolled over onto his other side now facing Vin. The sharpshooter watched as Standish's mouth moved, his words indiscernible. The undercover agent struggled weakly with the white sheets and blankets that covered him. The IV line, that fed his right forearm, swayed and jerked, threatening to hang up on the blanket. Tanner simply untangled the line as he watched eyeballs rove back and forth behind closed lids.

"Easy Ez," Vin raised a hand to rest on the side of Standish's head but stalled the movement. This wasn't Buck or JD, nor was it Nathan. It was Standish, where a touch could be misinterpreted as a threat more easily than anything else.

All three men were taken back when green eyes snapped open.

"Ezra?" Chris moved closer to the bed trying to get a better look at the wild expression on the Southerner's face.

Josiah stood still, watching, waiting. Where was he now? Did he know he was safe surrounded by friends? Or did he think that he lay in the clutches of an arms dealer or the such?

"Chris?" The words were hoarse, panicked, the southern accent thick.

"Ya alright Ezra," Larabee gripped the bed rail frustrated he could do no more to ease the fight that raged behind fevered eyes. He knew he spoke to himself, Standish never acknowledged him.

"Chris!" Ezra's sudden holler had the leader of Team Seven pulling back slightly before actually reaching for his undercover agent. Standish thrashed violently, left and right.

Josiah slid closer to the bed with Tanner. The three of them started speaking, "Easy Ezra."

"Wake up Brother,"

"Ya'll right Ez,"

Standish's eyes rove wildly between faces. His breathing became harsh as he pushed himself deeper into the pillow. Sanchez reached out a hand to comfort the younger man.

Standish shied as he screamed out, "Chris!" Veins and tendons strained under the tense strap muscles of the flushed neck. The undercover agent tried to kick his feet free of the entangling bed sheets.

His outburst brought people exploding through the door across the room.

The added commotion had the Southerner burying himself further into the mattress, swinging his head left and right. Injected green eyes were open in terror but apparently unseeing or uncomprehending of things immediately around him.

"What the hell is going on?" Buck's voice had Chris and the others turning to face him, JD and Nathan.

"Get ‘em away from the boat!" Standish shouted out again, this time his legs bent as he tried to sit up. Three sets of hands pushed him down. He waved his arms trying to fight the forces that shoved him back.

"Easy Ezra," Chris intoned softly, feeling his own heart hammer in his chest. What the hell is going on?

"No!" Ezra wrestled and squirmed under the hands that held him pinned, "It’s gonna capsize!" He fought trying to swing at the shadowy faces that kept him from helping the others.

"Buck! JD!" Standish wrestled to sit up again. He rolled and twisted his hips left and right trying to gain leverage, trying to break free, to get away and help the trapped men.

"Gawd Damnit," Larabee hissed out, "JD, get a doctor."

Dunne stared wide eyed at the commotion over at the bed. He paused until Buck laid a hand on his shoulder, "Go." The soft spoken command had the youngest sprinting out the door.

"Easy Ez," Tanner spoke softly, "ain't no boat here, JD and Buck are fine."

Ezra turned his face and seemed to focus on Tanner, "No…no…it capsized, it crushed JD…I can't see Buck…Buck's under it…you got to help them…." His panicked words tumbled over one another. "please you've got to let me help them." His voice cracked as if he were reliving the event. His sudden burst of strength waned.

"Buck git in there and talk to him," Nathan pushed Wilmington forward. The ex-paramedic slid in beside Larabee. Jackson could feel the fever before he even touched the patient.

" 'Ey pard'," Buck smiled reassuringly down at Standish's too wide eyes, "I'm right here, so's JD…we're fine pard'…see right here," Wilmington reached out and laid a hand on Standish's blanketed chest.

"No," Ezra whispered out his eyes staring at Wilmington for only a moment before swinging to Josiah and back to Vin, " No…Lilith…saw it…tell ‘em!" His eyes swung to the corner of the room below the TV that hung from the ceiling. The others followed his gaze to the empty space.

Buck and Chris shared a look that was not lost on Tanner.

"Ezra, there isn't any one there," Jackson pointed out with reassurance. An uneasy feeling crawled up his spine.

Standish seemingly forgot the others and spoke to the corner, "Tell ‘em, show ‘em…" his pleading voice lost its stamina and slowly dwindled to a whisper.

"You've got to tell them…." He sagged against the pillow and his eyes rolled. He struggled briefly, re-opened his eyes and found Larabee, "Chris…" stark fear tinged his plaintive call. He gripped Larabee's wrist in a desperate measure hoping to convey his urgency. Then his eyes rolled again and Ezra settled heavily back into the bed either unconscious.

Chris watched his struggling agent and realized Ezra had truly looked at him, saw him, recognized him and pleaded….for something.

"What the Hell?" Larabee shot out as he straightened. He searched the faces of each of his men. The others mirrored his worried and unnerved expression. Chris had yet to relinquish the returned grip on the Southerner's wrist. A lifeline of sorts.

Just then the door to the room burst open. A Doctor and nurse stormed through with JD leading the way.

The men backed away from the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A gale force wind howled out side the hospital window. It rattled window panes and whistled down narrow side streets. Paper was lifted and blown into the air, hats were clutched to heads, and coats billowed and pulled from bodies. Inverted umbrellas would vex and embarrass disgruntled users for the night.

A storm raged in the mountains. The city of Denver caught the backlash of gale intensity winds and sporadic whipping rain.

Buck and Vin sat on either side of the hospital bed. The TV flashed bluish hues of light in the darkened room. The CT scan had shown nothing. The blood tests had either come back normal or revealed that Standish was fighting an infection of some kind.

No joke. Maybe the Duck floor was the appropriate place.

Chris had left with Josiah and JD to get the profiler up to speed on tonight. Nathan skirted through the halls of the hospital for a while and finally had to leave to help Team 8 get things ready.

Wilmington checked his watch again. Midnight. A few more hours and this case would be done…maybe not over, but out of their hands. It had been a long ugly haul.

Buck was pulled from his reverie when Standish started moving again. The movements were jerky and irritable. He fought the blankets as well as unseen enemies.

"Here we go again," Tanner sat up in his chair and watched as the fight escalated. In a few seconds, Standish would be wide eyed and shouting about something, maybe the boat again. Or perhaps Lilith.

Buck nodded edging himself closer to the side of the bed. Hoping the subject of Lilith would not come up again.

As if on cue, Standish's eyes snapped open.

" 'Ey Pard'," Buck spoke with gentle caring, trying hard not to spook Standish any further. "Hoss, you in there?"

Both Buck and Vin shared a look as Ezra stared wide eyed at the same corner under the raised Television.

Here we go again…

"No," Ezra whispered and shook his head as if trying to deny an exposed truth only he could see.

"Shit," Vin muttered softly to himself. He checked the IV line, to make sure it was not already snagged on something when Ezra started fighting them again.

"Ezra," Buck called again softening his voice to a subdued whisper, "come on pard' look at me…Ole Buck…"

Standish did not respond…Instead, he continued to stare at the far corner, "No…." He shook his head more vigorously, "No!" He voice raised with his fighting determination.

"No!…Get away from the Boat!…." He tried to bolt up right.

"Shit," Tanner spit out again and jumped to his feet pushing Standish back into the bed, "Ez, there ain't no boat." How many times had they gone through this?

"Buck! Get away from the Boat…JD!" Standish struggled against the hands that pinned him down.

Wilmington, in an act of desperation, grabbed Ezra's chin, "Look at me hoss," Buck tried to make eye contact, but Standish swung his eyes to the corner of the room. "Ezra, look at me."

"No…" Standish pleaded, his voice breaking, "Lilith…tell ‘em…warn them."

"Ezra, ain't no one here but Buck 'n me," Tanner answered through clenched teeth.

"No…please," Standish's voice softened. His breath hitched as if fighting for air.

"Ezra," Buck again tried to catch the Southerner's eye. He succeeded this time. Buck smiled reassuringly, "that's it pard'…now listen… JD 'n me are fine…ain't no boat out here in the middle of Denver…sure as Hell ain't gonna capsize on us…"

Standish's eyes began to pool, "Stay away from the boat…JD… It crushed JD and buried you… Lilith…Lilith showed me…"

Buck smiled sadly at the tears that ran down from the corner of Standish's eye, "Ezra, JD 'n me are just fine." The big man used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear from the side of Standish's head before it ran into his ear.

"What's Lilith look like Ez?" Tanner asked hoping to divert Standish from his morbid 'dream'. He watched as the undercover agent closed his eyes and opened them slowly, fighting to focus maybe, "she's right there…." Ezra struggled to raise an impossibly heavy hand off the bed to point to the corner under the TV.

"She's not there Ez," Buck pointed out quietly, gently, trying to ease an old familiar pain. Gawd how many times had he wished for her to still be there for him?

Vin eyed Wilmington for a brief second before focusing back on the undercover agent.

"Blue eyes, like cobalt. Laugh lines… an inch or two shorter than Buck…" Standish paused his voice raw and hesitant, "she saw the boat," he started becoming agitated again.

Wilmington tightened his grip, as he squinted, trying to see something, anything in the dark corner across the room.

"Ain't no boat pard'," Vin spoke up trying to keep the undercover agent grounded with them. A little help here, Buck…

"Yes…there is…" Ezra stared at Vin. For the first time since visiting the hospital that day, Tanner had the sense that Standish was actually looking right at him. "They're crushed…JD's crushed….Can't find Buck…" panicked desperation, a hint of anger, laced his words. He fought to keep his eyes open, to make them believe to understand what he saw.

"What's she wearing Ez?" Buck kept his hand on Standish's bicep, no longer holding him still but offering comfort.

"Blue jeans, Pacer's sweat shirt," He paused as if fighting something, " Cardinal's hat, soft ball glove on her right hand…the boat…she showed…oh Gawd JD….Buck" The words tapered off, the anguish faded and Standish once again faded back to a restless sleep.

Buck sat heavily in his chair. His face drained of color.

"Buck?"

"Nuthin' pard'…nuthin'" Wilmington never took his eyes from the shadowy spot in the corner. Tanner followed his gaze and saw nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris once again ran a check through his men. Each one responded with an affirmative. The wind constantly beat at their backs, sucking coats to bodies like shrink wrap. Hats were pulled tight over brows or left in vehicles all together.

"Winds gonna be a bitch Larabee," Tanner's remark had the other sharpshooters nodding their consent from their unseen perches.

"Don't give me excuses ladies, just results," Larabee hoped Tanner understood his remark... give an excuse and someone might take it and use it. They couldn't afford it.

Tanner chuckled over his head set. It brought a smile to Larabee's face. Tanner knew.

Despite the lateness or earliness of the hour, the men sounded ready, awake.

Kelly Ryan checked with his team as SWAT ran through their numbers. It was time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ezra shouted and reached out, screaming for Buck and JD to stay away from the Boat. He pleaded with anyone who would listen.

The darkened room remained empty, except for himself and the shadow under the flickering blue hue of the Television.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ok, we're movin'," Larabee spoke into his mike and slowly started making his way to the warehouse entrance.

The large empty spaces between buildings whistled with wind and danced with tossed paper.

A team of men scurried toward the warehouse. Out of sight, a team of sharpshooters lay hidden. In plain view, but invisible to the undiscerning eye, sat an ordinary, nondescript, van. Unexceptional, except for the men and equipment that sat within it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie Travis left the room of an old time friend. Tears sparkled her eyes. She hugged her folded coat to her chest as she headed down the corridor to the bank of elevators that would take her away from floor 5 and her slowly dying friend.

The nurses gave her small sympathetic smiles, offering silent condolences for her pain. Her husband, who normally made these visits, was away on business. Had he been there with her this evening, he would have insisted that she had left earlier. The Judge was not a cold man, not at all, he loved his wife dearly and it was that devotion that had spurred him in protecting her.

With him out of town, she walked down the corridor with tears brimming her eyes. Her friend did not have much longer.

Then she heard it. The beseeching "No!" that rang down the corridor. It made her pause.

"It’s ok, Mrs. Travis," The young night nurse answered the worried frown, "Mr. Standish is running a pretty high Temperature…the doctor's on his way up."

Evie Travis turned and stared at the nurse, "Ezra Standish?"

The young RN flipped through her clip board, "Yes, ma'am." When the young nurse looked up, Mrs. Travis was already heading for room 528.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gawd damn," Tanner's whisper had the converging teams pausing.

"What is it Vin?" The other leaders of the respective teams gave Larabee a mixture of impatient and worried looks.

"It's a boat Chris," The awe in Tanner's voice had some of the teams guffawing.

"What?" Chris cupped his ear piece trying to block out the sound of the wind. A sudden unease flashed up his spine.

"It’s fuckin' huge…what the Hell is it doing in Denver?" Vin watched as the semi pulling an ocean faring yacht, stopped beside the surveillance van.

"Oh shits," rang around the area as a DPD cruiser pulled in with its lights running.

A Fine time for tickets…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You got to let me help them," Standish cried out trying to break free.

"Mr. Standish…Ezra, honey," Evie tried again to break through the fevered haze, "they're fine…they're going to be fine."

"No," He retorted, his voice harsh and his anger stunning in its subdued tones, "let me go…I've got to help them."

Evie Travis dodged and parried every move the undercover agent tried. She kept looking to the door hoping for reinforcements.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shit, it’s parking next to surveillance," The sharpshooters observation had Josiah and Nathan shooting panicked looks to Larabee.

"Someone get on the horn and get that Son of a Bitch to shut his lights off." Larabee hissed with venom.

Before anyone could move, the Warehouse suddenly exploded with gunfire. ATF and SWAT alike dove for cover and started exchanging gunfire.

Vin focused down his rifle scope picking targets and squeezing the trigger. His aim did not suffer in the brutal wind.

A flapping yellow strap grabbed his attention, then a second and then a third…the tethers holding the oversized boat to the Low Boy started snapping under the vicious beating of the devastating wind.

Another perp took aim at one of the pinned down members of the ATF. Tanner swung his gaze back down his scope. He found his target and squeezed the trigger.

The boat rolled under the tremendous torment that beat its Starboard side. The braces snapped. The boat wavered like a giant, trying to recapture its balance. Then slowly but with increasing speed, the boat 'capsized'. The abrasive sound of crunching metal and fiberglass shot through the area. Glass shattered and rained down bouncing across pavement. Metal screeched and buckled under the massive weight that smothered it. The surveillance van was crushed from sight…

The sharpshooter ignored the destruction and continued protecting the exposed men near the warehouse. He did his job, though, his heart lodged in his throat…He did his job…with Ezra's words taunting him in haunting clarity.

Buck and JD…

Part 2

Ezra threw his head left and right. He struggled to free his shoulders of the weight that kept him pinned to the bed. Voices shouted at him. Something pinned his arm. Trapped it.

He kicked out. Panic seized him when his legs became ensnared in something moveable but inescapable.

He screamed again, watching as the boat toppled onto the Van. Buck and JD! A sharp hoarse denial bubbled through him, as he shouted out another defiant, "NO!" arching off the bed fighting against those that detained him.

Then a warmth spread from his captive arm, up through his body, sapping his muscles of their strength while infusing him with warmth. Suddenly he lacked the energy to fight, to struggle, he couldn't save his friends.

He felt the weight leave his shoulders, he was free but could not coordinate or convince muscles to move. It didn't matter. The boat crushed Buck and JD. He felt his muscles relax involuntary, against his very wishes. The flashes, the images, dimmed behind closed lids as a misty greyness filled his fading vision. He fought quietly once more.

His watery gaze locked eyes with a familiar face. "Please.." He tried lifting his hand, tried reaching out to the saddened face that stared down at him, "please…please" Let me help them…

Mrs. Travis watched as the sedative took effect. With a surprisingly steady hand, she wiped at the string of tears that slowly cascaded down from the corners of the Southerner's closed eyes. She offered up a silent prayer and tightened her grip on his hand.

The nurse took another temperature reading. 106. The doctor frowned and consulted the three ring binder. He shuffled from the room jotting down notes. A nurse trailed behind, in his wake.

They left the solitary woman to watch over her charge. Most likely mother and son. Things were not looking good for either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gun fire ended as quickly as it began.

Josiah, Nathan and Larabee bolted for the van. Ryan Kelly and his men made sure no suspects pulled hidden guns. SWAT swarmed the area like locus.

Tanner climbed, swung and jumped from his perch. He rushed the van in a full out sprint.

The four men converged on the scene at the same time.

The truck driver climbed down from his semi in shock. The DPD officer noticed the ATF jackets, the SWAT teams and wondered how much trouble he could possibly find in one night.

The six men stared at the wreckage. The van lay trapped under the boat. Flattened like Nova under a steam roller.

Then at once, the four members of Team Seven rushed the area where Boat and Van had become one.

Josiah started trying to find blocks, to help lift the seafaring behemoth. Chris shouted orders for ropes and jacks…and Nathan hollered for Buck and JD to answer him.

Everything paused when Buck and JD did.

Heads swiveled when amused voices rang out behind them, from the safety of shipping crates.

"You boys lookin' for someone?" Buck laughed. JD stood beside him grinning as if sharing in a joke that finally made people smile.

The others slowly started walking toward the twosome, "How?" Nathan stuttered out.

JD smiled even wider, " Ez said to stay away from the boat." Dunne then turned and pushed Wilmington forcing the larger man back a step, "but he didn't say anything about this big ox shoving me head first into a crate." Blood dripped from a cut over Dunne's left eye.

"When that over sized monstrosity rolled in here," Buck chuckled out, "we hightailed it out of Dodge." Wilmington held a bloody forearm to his midsection. "Had to make sure the kid here moved his ass. Young'ins these days don't have nuthin' but lead in their pants."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. Josiah nodded sagely agreeing with Buck. Vin narrowed his eyes, "Watch it Pard'." He'd give Buck some lead…

Jackson noted the blood on the two men and ignored it for now. Far from the heart.

Anything else that might have been said was lost in shouted commands and wailing sirens. The Six men returned to the work at hand, though Buck and JD suffered through numerous pats on the back and the occasionally ruffled hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie Travis covered a yawn. Standish lay curled on his side sleeping. A true sleep. Sweat rolled down his face and matted his hair to his head. The Judge's wife leaned forward and once again wiped the ever present moisture from the young man's face and neck.

The fever had broken a little under an hour ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You boys heading for breakfast before going to the back to the office?" Kelly shouted across the space in front of the warehouse.

The wind had died down just before sunrise.

"Hospital first," Buck yelled back.

"Then Breakfast," Tanner filled in. Six in the morning seemed like as good as time as any for some waffles. "us Young'in can afford to eat our fill," Vin offered out patting Buck's midsection, as if it were a beer belly.

"How's Standish doin'?" Kelly herded his team toward one of the waiting vans.

"Aim to find out," JD answered back climbing into one of the Agency's cars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 630 in the morning, the night nurses were getting ready to go home and the day shift was still filing through the doors. As a result, the six men of Team Seven reached the fifth floor and room 528 without being delayed.

It also meant they had no more information about their agent than when they had left earlier that morning…which wasn't much and what they did have wasn't encouraging.

Chris pushed open the door open…and stopped.

Larabee paused at the threshold a moment too long.

"Out of the way cowboy," Vin shuffled by Larabee and paused himself.

"Geezus guys," JD ducked under Larabee's arm and pushed passed Vin. He smiled, "Oh, Hey Mrs. Travis." The young man waved as if it wasn't unusual for the Judge's wife to be keeping a bed side vigil over one of their own.

"Good Morning JD," Evie Travis sat up straighter in her chair. She still held the small wash cloth in her hand as she leaned over and once again fixed the blankets covering Standish.

"Excuse them, ma'am," Josiah rumbled out as he brushed passed the others, "they have no manners in the morning."

"How's he doin' ma'am?" Nathan entered the room when Chris and Vin finally decided to move.

"Better," The Judge's wife smiled at the surprised expressions on the men's faces before looking back down at Standish. "his fever broke at about 330 this morning." She paused and struggled to stand up. Buck was instantly at her side, "thank you Buck," she offered him an appreciative smile which he returned, "….and he's been sleeping since."

"Amen to that," Josiah intoned quietly.

Murmurs of consent circled the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Chris placed the magazine down on the floor when he felt a pair of eyes staring at him. Larabee let his legs drop from the rail of the bed and slowly got to his feet.

"How ya feelin'?" The midmorning sun warmed his back. The remnants, of the impromptu breakfast the others had eaten, still littered the push table that had been rolled out of the way.

Larabee watched his agent as Standish struggled to get his bearings.

The dull green eyes that followed Larabee's movements merely blinked.

"That good huh?" Chris reached for the plastic cup by the side of the bed. "Doc says you need to take in fluids." They had been through this before but Chris had the distinct impression the first few times Standish opened his eyes, his mind still slept.

Much like now.

The green eyes dropped to the IV line and in emphasis tried to raise the taped hand.

Maybe not…maybe he truly was awake and aware.

"Doesn't count," Chris held the cup in front of his undercover agent, with the bendy straw just at Ezra's chin, allowing the agent to either grip the cup for himself or just sip from the straw. The level of independence at this point was up to Southerner.

Standish settled for a compromise. He raised a shaky hand to the maroon cup and slowly dipped his mouth to the straw. His neck shook with the exertion.

Larabee noticed the grip was not strong enough to hold the cup on its own and as a result kept his own hold.

After a few sips, Standish lay back letting his hand fall heavily toward the mattress. The effort left him breathing hard.

Chris stood quietly, watching and waiting.

Standish searched the now empty room, slowly roving his head side to side on the pillow.

"Josiah and Vin drove the Judge's wife home," Larabee smiled at the furrowed expression. Nope, he really hadn't been lucid earlier, just a good actor. The idiot. "Nathan is down in Emergency with Buck and JD."

Hazy, disjointed pieces suddenly cascaded into place for the undercover agent. Larabee recognized the horrified expression well before the man before him could physically react.

"Just keep still," Chris placed a restraining hand on Standish's blanketed chest. It was more for show, to allow Standish some sense of strength and independence, in a scenario that robbed him of either. "They're fine...thanks to you."

Larabee met the piercing green eyes and felt as if he were being dissected.

"Lilith?" The name came out hoarse, almost bruised sounding. The first real word the Undercover agent had said all morning. The earlier stuff had been Southern laced gibberish. Or as JD and Buck had labeled it, " Back hills, hilly Billy dialect." This time however, a thinking mind sat behind the blood shot green eyes. One that would not be dissuaded from semi coherent questions with gentle but dismissive reassurances.

Larabee sighed and cocked his head sideways, "Don't know any Lilith, Ezra." The leader of Team Seven kept his hand on his undercover agent's chest. When Standish started to fight the lethargy that flowed through his muscles Chris merely increased the pressure.

Knock it off…Larabee sighed, "Cut it out." Damn Standish always did ignore my subtle hints.

"She was here," Ezra pointed out matter a factly, once again his eyes searched the now lighted area under the over hanging TV. "She was right there..."

Chris took a breath and let it out slowly. The doctor had no explanation for the fever, its origin, its mode of action, or why it broke so suddenly. Perhaps Stress.

Chris had discounted it. "Stress" seemed to be the safety net when people didn't have answers or good excuses. The doctor did, however, explain away the mysterious presence as fever induced. The others agreed.

"Ezra," Larabee began trying to find away to explain to his agent that he had been out of his head with fever, delirious and at times out of control. There was no easy way, "You had a hell of a fever yesterday and last night."

Standish narrowed his gaze at his boss in suspicion. He remember very little of the last twenty four hours but he did clearly remember a Lilith talking to him, seriously at first and then in jest. She was a beautiful young woman with a smile that lit up a room. For the last day, she had been his constant companion. What they talked about he couldn't remember, but it was unimportant right now. He just wished to thank her for her kindness.

Chris recognized the look but barreled forward. "Fever hit a 106...temp like that they say can start shutting down body systems...let alone cause hallucinations."

Ezra narrowed his gaze back at the far corner and then back up to Larabee, "I wasn't hallucinating."

Chris nodded, not in agreement but in concession that they would not agree on this point.

An uncomfortable silence fell across the room. Standish fought a futile anger at being sick and near helpless and the fact that he might have lost control last night in front of others. Worse yet, his boss offered a soft placating explanation as a means to dismiss something he did not believe had happened.

Larabee shook his head dismissively trying to ignore the rising ire in both himself and his undercover agent. Stubborn Jackass couldn't even accept he was sick enough to suffer hallucinations.

The tension was broke when the door to the room flew open.

"Shut up, Buck," JD bellowed out in a harsh overtly loud whisper, "he's probably still sleeping."

"Put a sock in it Kid," Wilmington stopped short in the door way forcing Dunne to walk into him, "ain't no way Ez's is still sleeping with you flapping yer gums like a ninny."

"Both of ya shut up and git in there," Nathan pushed Dunne forward back into Buck.

"Ingrates," Wilmington stepped into the room and spied Chris, " 'Ey old Dog...how's he doing?" Wilmington nodded his head in the direction of the bed. "Whoa Ho! Look who's finally awake....how ya feelin' pard'....don't mind sayin' you look like shit."

Standish squinted his eyes and raised an eyebrow. His attempt at a vocal greeting was cut short by JD. "'Ey Ez, no offense but Buck's right, looks like someone drug you through a cat door backward....Good to see ya a wake though, ya had us worried last night...Good thing Mrs. Travis was here...you know that the Dr. last night thought she were yer ma...ain't that the funniest thing..."

"Shut up, kid," Wilmington shoved Dunne away from the bed rail.

Ezra followed the motion with his eyes. He felt a step behind.

"You two fools knock it off," Jackson sidled up to the head of the bed, "You feelin' ok? Dizzy at all? Cold? Legs and back still hurt?" Nathan rested a practiced hand on Standish's forehead. Ezra slid his head to the side trying to get out from under the testing grasp. "Must be feelin' better, gitten ornery again." The ex-paramedic looked across to Chris, "he coherent yet? Or is he still pretty much out of it? He still complaining about his back and legs? Any more muscle cramps? "

Before Larabee could answer, Dunne stepped forward again maneuvering Nathan to the side.

" 'Ey Ez, check out my stitches," JD pulled his bangs back from the left side of his forehead showing off a neat purple line of sutures. "Got 10, not bad huh?" JD threw a mock scathing look at Buck, "Probably would have gotten none except Bozo tossed me head first into a shipping crate."

Ezra arched an eyebrow and looked to Chris. Larabee just shook his head. Ignore it for now.

"Hell Kid," Buck shouldered his way in front of Dunne, "they just gave you stitches to make you feel better, this here is a real cut..." Wilmington gently lifted the gauze pad off his arm to expose an 'L' line suture pattern in pink this time. "That there is 23 stitches…counted them myself."

"Hell Buck, I didn't think you could count that high," JD laughed out peering at the pink stitches.

"Shut up, both of ya," Chris finally stepped seeing the plaintive expression on Standish's face. Both Dunne and Wilmington stared at Chris slightly confused. JD backed into Buck even though Larabee stood on the other side of the bed.

"Don't worry about it Kid, Ole Chris 'ere, gits a bit crotchety when he don't get his 8 hours of shut eye," Buck leaned in close to JD and in a stage whisper stated, "Git'n old an all." The ladies man winked at Standish, including him in the 'secret'.

Dunne's eyes widen at the sudden 'revelation'. "Oh."

"Jist shut up both of ya." Larabee sighed.

"Who you tellin' to shut up now Cowboy?" Vin strode through the door with Josiah hot on his heels, "sure as hell won't be Ezra there...though give it a day or two and I bet you'll be threatening to shoot his ass."

"More like a few hours," Nathan added, "they're releasing him this afternoon," Jackson then turned and stared at Standish noticing the half smile that now creased the gambler's pale face, "on the condition you stay with one of us." Jackson's stern tone cut the room.

The half smile disappeared all together.

"Brother, you are looking better," Josiah slid up beside the head of the bed forcing Larabee to step aside.

"Hell, Josiah he looks like shit," Vin noted from the foot of the bed.

"Should've seen him yesterday afternoon when I found him at home," Sanchez turned to face Nathan, "you sure it’s ok for him to leave this afternoon? His muscles quit knotting up on him?" Doctor had said they were normal after such a high fever that they'd fade away. Josiah could not help but feel sympathetic twinges in his own lower back, legs and feet.

Jackson furrowed his brow for a moment, "Ain't too sure about it, but his fever’s staying down with Motrin, probably helping his legs and back too. He kept a small breakfast down and the blood tests are still saying normal."

"Must be something wrong with the machines then," Vin piped up, "ain't no way Ez, here is normal....Huh Ez?"

"Thank you Mr. Tanner," Ezra let a sarcastic smile etch his features. Finally, someone addressed him as if he were in the room.

"Dang son, are you back with us?" Buck leaned over the undercover agent's bed and stared closely at his blood shot eyes, "figured you were still in Laalaa land." Wilmington waved his hand in front of Ezra's face for effect until Chris shook his head at Buck.

"Mr. Wilmington, I assure you, as much as it distresses me, I am back amongst you Neanderthals."

"Pretty big talk for someone who can't raise his head off a pillow," Vin chuckled out.

"It will not last, I assure you." The fatigue that dripped from the words said otherwise.

"So Ez," JD wiggled back into the conversation, "Who's Lilith?"

The room suddenly fell silent as eyes stared pointedly at the young computer expert. Not that they weren't curious but some how they feared it would embarrass Standish as much as unnerve them.

Chris stared at the young man hoping he could make JD take the question back. Buck bumped his shoulder into Dunne's in silent reprimand.

Nathan and Josiah watched the undercover agent while Vin kept his eye on Buck.

JD wished he could disappear.

Ezra shook his head before muttering, "I do not know...but," but what?...How do you say there was something familiar about a face that no one believed exist? He wavered between unease, at his apparent loss of composure and conviction. Lilith was real.

"But nothin' Ez," Buck whispered quietly. Wilmington ignored both Vin and Chris as the two stared at him.

"She was here," Ezra felt compelled to try and convince these men that he was not hallucinating, that he had not lost control of his mind. That a lady, Lilith sat and spoke with him, about things he could not truly remember. He wasn't hallucinating.

"Easy Brother," Josiah intoned trying to calm ruffling waters, "no ones sayin' you didn't see her."

"Fevers do that Ezra," Jackson tried to explain, "especially ones as high as yours. Damn lucky you pulled out of it." Nathan rested a comforting hand on Standish's shoulder, trying to offer understanding.

"Dang Ez, if she was pretty, maybe Buck knew her," JD tried to joke, to break the tension he inadvertently created.

"She was Mr. Dunne," Ezra remarked more to himself than to the others. He stared at the spot in the corner where Lilith had stood and….warned him of the danger?

"Yeah, she was," Buck whispered out again, "most beautiful woman in the world." His voice had soften with a wistful sound. A touch of homesickness perhaps.

"Heck Buck, you say that about all women," JD laughed out and pushed on his friend's shoulder.

"Don't Buck," Chris tried to tell him it wasn't necessary. Buck's private life was his own, same with his past. He did not need to share it with the Team.

Vin and the others watched the two old friends.

Wilmington smiled sadly as he reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a worn leather wallet that had seen better days. The sticky residue of duct tape still covered the leather where the repair stitches now sat. Buck opened his wallet, bending the halves back, his fingers slid over numerous yellow and aged cards until he stopped at the one he was searching for.

He pulled it from the crowded slot. Whatever he tried to extract had stuck to the wallet material. With gentle pressure, he finally removed it. It was a wallet size picture.

"This her Ez?" Wilmington held the picture in front of Standish much like Chris had offered the water. The undercover agent raised a shaky hand to the worn creased photograph. He immediately recognized the Pacer's sweat shirt, the Cardinal's hat and baseball glove. More readily he recognized the laughing cobalt eyes and easy smile.

Lilith. She did exist…he hadn't lost his mind. How did Buck know her…better yet have an old photo of her? It was Lilith just as she appeared last night, softball glove and everything.

"Yes," the reverence in his voice had the others crowding the bed but Chris, "how?" Ezra asked moving his eyes up to the man that held the picture.

"Cuz, Ez," Buck stepped back and let the others see the faded picture that had not seen the light of day for years, "Lilith was my ma."

"I thought your ma died," JD stated voicing his confusion and doubt.

Ezra held on to the picture a moment longer, before weakened muscles trembled enough that Nathan took the picture before it slipped, "She's beautiful."

"Yup, a definite head turner," Buck beamed with pride. His mom worked hard, did her best to raise him right and teach him right or wrong. Her profession never stole her zest for life. He dropped his head to his chin, "But JD's right, she died along time ago."

"Then how?" Dunne let his question fall unasked.

"She's a lefty," Nathan noticed scrutinizing the picture. Mrs. Wilmington was a looker.

"Yup," Buck smiled and then chuckled, "Hell of a ball player too. Played softball in the Beer league...one of the best shortstops out there. Could bat a .375 easy too…taught me everything I know about Soft ball."

"Hell Bucklin, you suck at softball," Tanner chuckled.

"Yup, she used to say the same thing," Buck smiled in memory, "but it never kept her from tossing the ball and batting with me every morning in the summer."

Josiah whistled appreciatively. A good mother was a treasure to hold close.

Chris matched Buck's eyes and nodded silently in support. Buck didn't have to do this but if he wanted too, Larabee would back him.

Vin accepted the picture handed to him by Josiah. The sharpshooter studied it and marveled at the amazing woman that stood laughing at the camera uncaring of the trials and troubles the world threw her way. Much like her son.

"Dang," JD whispered, "You mean Ezra's been dreamin' about ya ma?"

The room fell silent, until a Southern laden, "Good Lord," whined from the bed. Ezra slunk low under the blankets.

"Must run in the team," Vin casually remarked staring pointedly at Josiah.

"Maude is a mighty fine lady."

"I'm going to be ill," Ezra mumbled despairingly from under the blankets.

"If you are, do it now, before you git in my truck," Larabee warned with a laugh in his voice.

"Ahh not again," Standish truly whined and curled into a loose ball, too tired to really fight but not exhausted enough to forgo a try, "this is unfair." Sequestered away at Mr. Larabee's again…just shoot me now…

Vin patted Chris on the shoulder in condolences, "I was gonna stop by this weekend, but if he's gonna be like that," He stared pointedly at the mound under the white blankets, "I'll see ya on Monday."

"It'd be fine Vin," Nathan encouraged as he followed the sharpshooter out the door, "Ezra won't even have the stamina to walk to the bathroom on his own for a day or too, much less whine with any vigor." Jackson turned back to look at his hidden friend on the bed, "he should sleep most of the time anyway."

A dry cry bubbled from the bed. Jackson chuckled and headed out the door behind Tanner.

"We all have our penances Brother," Sanchez clamped Larabee's shoulder in a sympathetic fashion, "some worse than others." Josiah gazed down at the covered undercover agent and then back at Larabee, "I would not want your burdens this weekend."

Standish shifted under the blankets before quietly settling down.

"Looks like you take the cake, Chris," JD hopped in step behind Josiah. He gave the others a quick wave and disappeared out the partially opened door, "Hey! Josiah! Wait up! Did I show you my stitches?..."

Buck and Chris stared across the bed at one another and then down at the agent hidden by bed covers. Soft snores issued forth from the bed.

"You gonna need a hand?"

Larabee paused contemplating his upcoming weekend and not enjoying it. The Doctor or his nurse would leave a list of instructions. Standish would eventually do everything in his power to disobey any kind of command or order. The weekend looked like a bust, maybe he could use some help.

Larabee merely raised his eyebrow. Probably.

"Yeah right," Buck shook his head in resignation, "I'll get the discharge papers going and try and find his doctor." Wilmington headed for the door.

"Buck,"

Larabee's voice stopped him. The big man paused and turned around.

"Your mother," Chris paused, the subject of Buck's mother was always touchy. She lived her life walking a tightrope most people would have refused to even attempt. Balancing an illicit career with raising a son. She did a damn good job. Her efforts and sacrifices paid off handsomely in the shape of a loyal, intelligent man dedicated to his friends. "She was one of a kind...one of the best."

Wilmington held Larabee's gaze before breaking into a smile, "Yeah…I know."

Chris nodded, "Just wanted to make sure."

A rough snore dragged the two men's attention to the bundle hidden in the bed, "What ya think happened?"

Chris shook his head, "I don't know....maybe Josiah's damned Destiny again."

Wilmington nodded, unable to come up with anything better. "Guess we better keep ole Ez around, especially if ma talks to him, and Mrs. Travis spends her nights at his side."

Larabee shook his head in resigned weariness. "Probably got a point."

Buck slipped from the door and disappeared down the corridor lined with pictures of Ducks. Wilmington shook his head at that…what kind of moron decorated with Duck drawings? Why not Bears, or Horses, or women for that matter? Water fowl? They smelled bad.

Larabee sat in his chair and gathered the magazine up off the floor. He paused and stared at Ezra, or more specifically the top of Ezra's head, the only part of his agent exposed from under the blanket. The leader of Team Seven swung his gaze to the empty space in the corner of the room under the Television set. A soft 'thank you' passed his lips.

Lilith Wilmington smiled pleased with herself and then followed her son down the Fifth floor corridor. Why Ducks?

The end.