lit_gal | Sunstroke, Insanity, and Faith (The End!)

SECOND POST OF THE DAY AND THE END OF THIS SERIES. NOW ON TO ANOTHER WIP!!

Title: Sunstroke, Insanity, and Faith
Genre: Gen... an introduction to the characters before I use them in crossovers.
Fandom: Magnificent Seven

Summary: An undercover cop finds himself in deeper than he ever expected when a local priest hires him to defend the church in an all out gang-war.

( Part One... )
( Part Two... )
( Part Three... )
( Part Four... )
( Part Five... )
( Part Six... )

Captain Rodriguez was a big man, even bigger when he was leaning over your hospital bed. Vin looked up and waited for the interrogation to start. His report wouldn't hold water for more than two seconds, and he knew it. However, he'd been hard-pressed to avoid subjects like Nathan when the hospital filled him full of antibiotics and pain killers that made his brain fuzzy.

"How are you feeling?"

"I felt better before they tried helping me," Vin complained. That got a smile. It wasn't easy to see because the captain had a beard and mustache, but the lines around his eyes deepened.

"Doctors are like that." Straightening up, the captain walked over to the narrow window with the spectacular view of the parking lot and a whole lot of dirt. "When did you break cover?" he asked. That wasn't where Vin expected the interrogation to start, but it was as good a place as any to start poking holes in Vin's story.

"I have no idea." Better to sound like an idiot than like a dirty cop who had helped criminals get away with... actually, Vin wasn't sure what he had helped them get away with. "Whose bullet took out the perp in the living room?" Vin asked. It was a useful distraction from his own failures and he really wanted to know.

Rodriguez turned and studied Vin for several seconds. "Yours. Internal Affairs is going to have to clear you."

Vin nodded. He doubted that he'd be cleared, but he knew the shoot was good. Everything else was in doubt, but it'd been a clean shoot.

"John Dunne's bullet would have killed him if you hadn't put two in the perp's heart," Rodriguez added. "I can't say I'm sorry that you saved the kid from that guilt. The army might call someone a man at eighteen, but that's awfully young to start killing."

"So, he's in the clear?"

The captain nodded. "He was pretty panicked over the idea of shooting someone at all, and he's got a bail bondsman's license and a concealed weapon permit. He's clear. Buck Wilmington might be in some trouble for making the decision to rush in there when he saw you outside, but I've known Buck long enough to know he'll charm his way out of any problems."

"He will?" Vin frowned. Yeah, he'd fallen for them, but Vin was somehow bothered by the idea that other people fell for Buck and his smile or JD's innocence or Josiah's quiet strength. He could feel something almost possessive rise up, like he didn't want some idiot from IA liking these guys. Either he was on too many drugs, or they just needed to give him enough to make him pass out so he didn't have to deal with the emotions that were swirling through his head. He was a loner; he was used to that. Hell, Rodriguez had given him the case because he could handle weeks or even months without the emotional connections to other people.

"Yeah, he will. Besides, he's the only one of you who didn't make a potentially fatal blow, so he's less likely to catch crap than the rest of you."

"He... but... the two perps in the bedroom." Vin stared at the captain in confusion.

Walking over, the captain sat in the only chair and leaned forward. "I told you to be careful of Josiah the first time he contacted you, yes?"

Vin nodded. "You said he was more likely to be a victim than one of the perps, but you wanted me to stick close because people in the neighborhood trusted him."

"I know I didn't say he was likely to be a victim," Rodriguez said with some amusement. He was a large man, but right now, he looked a lot like Santa Claus with his white hair and the twinkle in his eye that suggested he knew something Vin didn't. Oh, he was a seriously tanned Santa Claus, but he had the look. Vin narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what his boss wasn't telling him. "I said he wouldn't start things. I never said he couldn't end them if push came to shove. Both men had their necks broken, most likely by a kick to the jaw. I take it Josiah's hands were tied."

Vin nodded as he tried to reconcile the idea of big, gentle Josiah and the image of the man kicking someone to death. The two didn't seem to make sense together.

The captain leaned back in his chair, and the frame groaned under the weight. "My brother was in Vietnam. His crew got in trouble, and Josiah Sanchez and two of his Rangers were sent in to get them out. Josiah won't start trouble, but he sure as hell isn't anyone's victim."

Vin thought about the stories he'd heard—about Josiah refusing to leave his church, building it up brick by brick and serving meals to anyone and everyone who came to his door. Lots of soldiers from Vietnam had trouble adjusting back into life, but Vin just couldn't quite wrap his mind around this new view of Josiah that Captain Rodriguez was offering him.

"So, here's the issue..." the captain stopped, and Vin braced himself for the bad news. He'd been out on his ear before, and he'd land on his feet this time the same as every other time. Someone would hire him. "Josiah and Buck seem to have taken a liking to you, and that doesn't happen with many people. Neither of them are interested in helping to bring these gangs down for whatever reason." Captain Rodriguez's mouth came together into a tight line, and Vin could see just how frustrated the man was over that. "However, they have both indicated that they don't mind you hanging around the church. So, are you willing to go back in undercover, even though those two know you're a cop?"

Vin's mouth came open. The shock stole his words so that he could only stare at his captain and wonder why the hell he wasn't being fired. Captain Rodriguez pushed himself up and patted Vin on the shoulder. "I don't need your answer right now. Hell, I wouldn't take it considering that you've got drugs going through that IV of yours. But think about it. If Josiah accepts you, the people down there are going to tell you a lot more about what goes on in that neighborhood. However, working undercover when your cover is compromised is about the most dangerous job a cop can take. You need to consider that." With one last pat, Captain Rodriguez left the room.

For a long time, Vin listened to the beeping of machines and wondered when he'd fallen down the rabbit hole. This couldn't be reality. Reality was a lot more predictable. For example, reality always kicked him in the teeth.

The squeak of the door warned him that someone was coming, and Vin looked over, watching as Josiah walked into the room. Silently, he moved to the chair and sat down, angling his head down as if he were in prayer, and then he just sat there.

Vin lay in bed waiting for Josiah to say something. Streaks of sun drifted across the tile floor and the hospital slowly quieted as the visiting hour passed. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. "You need something?" he asked Josiah.

Josiah looked up at him and seemed to think about that for a long time. "Taoists say that a wise man practices wu-wei: the art of going through life without feeling the need to carve the world up to fit your own needs. I can't say I'm perfect or even particularly good at achieving wu-wei, but I can say I try my best."

It took Vin a few seconds to even process that strange speech. "What?"

"A good traveler leaves no track or trace behind. Perfect speech is like a jade-worker whose tool leaves no mark. In trying to create, the first rule is to not destroy." Josiah held up a bracelet that was nothing more than green stone beads on a string and he studied it. Vin was starting to suspect that he was hallucinating the whole meeting... or he might have thought that except his imagination wasn't usually this creative. "When I was in Vietnam, I met a very wise man. My father was a minister, and his idea of fatherly love almost convinced me that there was no God." Josiah's smile was tight and full of self-mocking. "However, Phuc taught me to see the world in a new way."

"Fuck?" Vin was definitely hallucinating.

Josiah smiled at that. Gesturing up toward the heavens he said, "The almighty does have a wicked sense of humor. Phuc introduced me to the Tau Teh Ching. It says that those who overcome others require force. Those who overcome themselves need strength. I have spent my life trying to find strength, and yet I seem to keep finding myself in situations where I use force."

"Like killing those two men?" The question slipped out before Vin could edit himself. Shit, as a cop, he knew better than to interrogate a suspect without a lawyer or a Miranda waiver, and as a man, he had the sense to not poke people with hand-to-hand combat skills that allowed them to take out two enemies with their hands tied behind their back.

Josiah sighed and leaned back in the chair so he could study the ceiling for a long time. "If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared."

"More wisdom from Fuck?" Vin guessed.

"Phuc," Josiah corrected him, "and no. That's Psalm 130. I've never claimed to be anything other than a very confused man, Vin Tanner. I reached out to you because I believed that I saw something familiar in your soul, but my sins blind me as easily as the next man. In Cyprus, when Paul met the false prophet Elymas, he told the man that he would be blinded for leading others away from the truth, and he was."

Vin shifted around until he could reach the bed controls. Whatever Josiah was rambling on about, Vin really felt the need to meet this sitting up. The bed motor whirred as it lifted him, and Josiah took the time to study him. "Right then, I know I'm on some drugs here," Vin lifted his hand with the IV, "so maybe you could explain what you came for using smaller words."

Josiah nodded. "I invited you to join my path, the path JD and Buck and Nathan have chosen to share with me despite my attempts to get them to find their own paths. I did so believing that you were a kindred soul."

"And now you know I'm a cop," Vin said, hoping to hurry this along. The uncertainty of not knowing what Josiah was trying to say made his stomach turn sour.

The smile on Josiah's face was honestly amused. "That doesn't matter."

"It should."

"Why?" Josiah looked at Vin, waiting expectantly for an answer, and Vin could only stare back. How the hell did Josiah get him off balance so easily? "What you do and who you are—they are separate issues. I just came to say that I still consider you a kindred soul. If you chose to come back to the church, you would always find a plate of chorizo and a bunk waiting for you."

"Even though I'm a cop?" Vin demanded as Josiah stood up.

"I was a soldier, a hippy, a brother, a son, a minister, and a homeless man. None of those things tell you who I am," Josiah said gently. "Just know that you're welcome."

Vin was struggling to come up with some sort of rebuttal, but Josiah just left. Vin was left laying in his hospital bed wondering exactly how he was supposed to react when the rest of the world failed to live down to his pessimistic expectations.

~ ~ ~

"Hey, are you about ready to go?" Vin twisted around and then cursed colorfully as his healing wound flared in pain. "I didn't think you'd be that pissed about me showing up," Buck said as he stepped into the room. He looked around. "So, no wife or best girl to drive you to some fancy place you have in the Catalina Foothills?" Buck smiled at the nurse who had been getting Vin's signature on about a million forms. She didn't react so Buck came closer. "Good morning, ma'am. Beautiful day out there."

She glanced over. "I'm married."

"Good for you. Whoever got a ring on your finger is a lucky man," Buck said with a smile just as wide as ever. Vin wasn't sure if Buck was still flirting or if he had some congenital defect that made him act like a fool around women. Surprisingly, the nurse seemed to melt some.

"Yes, he is lucky."

"Well, when you go home tonight, you be sure to remind that husband of yours that he caught himself one beautiful and compassionate wife," Buck suggested. "So, is my friend here ready to go or do you need to yell at him some more about stepping out of the way when the bullets start flying? You'd think a cop would have better sense than that, wouldn't you?"

"Are you a cop, too?" the nurse asked.

Buck got an exaggerated expression of horror on his face. "I would never make it as a cop. The first time my orders interfered with my ability to stop and tell a beautiful woman just how beautiful she was, I'd give up the badge. No thank you. I have my own bailbond office. Buck Wilmington. I offer good rates for anyone with good family connections who isn't going to run off in a panic if jail looms a little too close." Buck pulled a business card out of his pocket. "If you know anyone who needs an honest businessman, you can call that number any time, day or night."

"Unless you're in a felon's attic ready to drop down on him," Vin pointed out. Buck's smile widened until Vin thought the man's face might split open. "Well, there's that. But when I see a duly sworn officer of the law about to arrest my bounty, I sometimes get a little overly aggressive. It might have worked out fine if those gang members hadn't been so intent on killing one of Tucson's finest. So, are we ready?"

"An orderly will come and escort him out of the hospital," the nurse said, gesturing toward the wheelchair. Considering that Vin had been in a shootout with a hole in his side less than two days earlier, he didn't feel a need to ride around in a stupid chair. Before he could say as much, the nurse was right in front of him. "You will wait for the orderly or I will track you down and find some painful set of shots I need to give you, understood?"

Vin looked over toward Buck, but he had his hands up in surrender. "Oh no. I have learned to never go against a beautiful woman."

Vin sighed and looked at the nurse. He didn't think she was all that beautiful, but when she graced Buck with a smile, Vin could see a hint of true beauty behind a whole lot of fatigue. Buck smiled back at her. "I'll make sure he follows your orders," Buck promised.

"Thank you." The nurse gathered the paperwork and headed past Buck, offering him one last small smile.

"You'll make sure I follow orders?" Vin asked.

"Hey, never go against the fairer sex. No profit in it," Buck said with a wink. "So, JD is helping Josiah fix his place up. If we left it up to Josiah, he'd do everything at a snail's pace. He's always talking about making the wood find its place without forcing it with tools. If I didn't respect the hell out of that man, I'd say he was loony as a cartoon. So, since JD is busy, are you up to torturing Ezra a bit?"

Vin looked over in alarm.

"He's so busy trying to convince himself that he wasn't involved that he twitches when I even mention the world ceiling." Buck's grin was infectious and a little malicious.

"How often have you been saying it?" Vin asked.

Buck's cat-that-ate-the-canary expression was enough to let Vin know just how much Buck had been over there. "He's really fixed the club up nice. It's a good place to drink some beers and tell a few stories. Besides," Buck said as he shrugged his shoulder, "Ezra does seem to grate on people's nerves a mite. Someone has to hang around and toss people out on their ass when they're too drunk to be polite."

"And you're his bouncer?"

"Not a bad job between bailbonds. Of course, I thought it might be a better job for you."

"For me?"

Buck's smile widened. "You stood with Josiah. For most of the neighborhood, that's enough to explain why you're one of us, but you've got to have some sort of cover. If I can't blackmail Ezra into hiring you, I'm going to have to put you on the books as one of my bounty hunters, and trust me, the IRS man is unamused with my company books now. Something about how I pay more money out than I have coming in. I don't know why they're worried. I pay my taxes." Buck winked.

"Don't tell me," Vin said, holding his hands up as if he could physically push away the words. For Buck to have access to the high-end weaponry in Ezra's basement, there was serious money going through there, and Vin did not want to know what. For some reason he couldn't explain, he trusted that they weren't doing anything that could hurt anyone. Captain Rodriguez certainly believed that. So as far as he was concerned, his job was to bring down other criminals.

"Oh, no worries on that front," Buck said. "If it makes you feel any better, we do tend to use Josiah's sense of morality, which greatly limits the scope of our business."

"Just... just don't forget I'm a cop," Vin asked, but then the orderly showed up, and he moved to the wheelchair for the ride out to the curb. Vin rode, wondering if he should do this.

Captain Rodriguez hadn't been back for his answer, but now that Vin's head was clear of the drugs, it was pretty clear that the man had more connections with Josiah's group than he'd ever admitted. No one had questioned the fact that his wound wasn't bleeding on-scene, and Vin's suggestion that he didn't remember being shot, while technically true, certainly left out a whole lot of facts that he did know, and the captain had to know that. The captain's brother had been saved by Josiah in Vietnam. The captain hadn't been surprised by a minister kicking two gang members to death, and Buck... Vin had no doubt that Buck wouldn't be here if the captain didn't want him here. A dark corner of his mind suggested that he was being set up for something, but he had no way of knowing if that was reality or just more shadows from Fort Worth and his partner's betrayal. Vin hadn't tried to trust anyone since then.

The orderly pushed him to the desk where he signed one more form that he didn't read, and then Vin got a ride out to the drop off. Outside the heat slapped him in the face, and Vin could feel himself start to sweat immediately. His wound itched.

"Oh no you don't."

Vin looked up, and Nathan frowned at him over the top of an old car. "Do not scratch that," Nathan said, pointing his finger. "I may only be a first year med student, but even a first year med student knows that you don't scratch a gunshot wound."

"He's fine," Buck said, slapping his hand against Vin's shoulder. "Him and me were going to go over to the Players Only and get some drinks."

"With his pain meds and antibiotics? I don't think so."

"Don't be such a worry wart."

"With you around, someone has to worry," Nathan countered. Vin waited as Buck opened the front passenger side door and then he slid in, ignoring the fight. Buck got in back and Nathan got behind the wheel, and they were both still at it as Nathan pulled away from the curb.

"A shot of whiskey will help kill the germs."

"Antibiotics can cause serious side effects when taken with alcohol."

"I'm not talking about getting him pie-eyed. We were just going to have a few drinks."

"Not a good idea."

"Sure it is." Buck was still smiling; Nathan was not.

"When taken with antibiotics, drinking can cause dizziness, nausea, vomiting...."

"Well now, that just sounds like the normal old results of drinking."

Nathan spared a second to glare at Buck in the rearview mirror. "Take JD out if you want to corrupt someone."

"Well, I would, but Ezra is mighty touchy about JD having a beer at his place. He acts like the police are perched on the ridge ready to sweep down on him the minute he sets a foot out of line. That's why I'm looking forward to taking Vin here out for drinks."

Vin looked over his shoulder. "You're using me to torture him, aren't you?"

"Yep," Buck agreed with a smile. Nathan shook his head, but his expression was almost fond.

"When I first met Ezra, I thought he was a stuck-up, self-important, arrogant jackass." Nathan seemed to think about that for a second. "Actually, I still think that, but I'm starting to have some sympathy for him. You don't actually have to torture him," Nathan said, glancing in the rearview mirror again.

"Sure I do." Buck leaned back and stretched his arms out along the backseat. "Got to toughen him up, right?"

"Your version of liking someone is dangerous." Nathan shook his head. "You should have seen him when Josiah and him decided to take a liking to me. I was a junior with all of four high school credits, and Buck decided to be my personal truant officer. Every time I ditched school, there he was."

"It got you back on the straight and narrow," Buck said.

"No, watching you get shot in the leg and holding your leg together with my two hands did that," Nathan quickly answered. "Following me around just pissed me off, but knowing that being there could make a difference... that I could save a life... that put me on the straight and narrow."

"You don't think I'll have to get shot in the leg again to get Ezra's head out of his ass, do you?" Buck asked.

Nathan just shook his head.

Watching the conversation, Vin really did feel like Alice after getting dropped down the rabbit hole. This was a whole new world, one where men put their lives in each other's hands and then had faith that they wouldn't be let down. He couldn't figure out if he was developing faith or going insane or if the desert sun hadn't just finally cooked his brains. But even with a nagging little fear clinging to him, this was exactly where he wanted to be.

"I think having me hang around should be enough torture," Vin said. Buck laughed and then leaned forward to slap Vin on the shoulder.

"That's the spirit!"

~ ~ ~

Vin leaned back, watching the two men get more and more heated over the pool table.

"Why must the unwashed and unenlightened always patronize my place," Ezra complained quietly. He sat down on the stool next to Vin. "Are you going to do something?"

"If they break anything, yep," Vin agreed. There was a line that people didn't cross in Players Only. This was Ezra's place and none of the group would allow anything to happen in it. He thought he'd taught that lesson pretty damn well, but if these two wanted a refresher course, Vin could do that.

Ezra sighed. "Your assurances would be more reassuring if you would intervene before my possessions were destroyed."

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"It would be novel, at very least," Ezra said dryly. Vin smiled and took another drink of his beer. Ezra loved to pretend he cared only about the money. Ezra cringed as the volume of the fight increased. Okay, so maybe he did care about the money, but the club was more than money. As much as Josiah obsessed over his church, Ezra obsessed over the club. The first drunk guy slammed the cue stick down on the table, and Vin put his beer down and stepped away from the bar.

The second man glanced over and said something to the other guy in a low voice. Then both looked over toward Vin before heading for the door.

"Well thank heavens. I fail to understand the attraction in beating on each other. Neanderthals," Ezra muttered as he headed over to check to see if the table felt had been damaged. Vin was a little more concerned about the aggression he'd seen between those two.

"I'll be back," Vin told the bartender. The man gave him a nod and watched as Vin headed outside. The heat of summer had faded and a slight breeze swept away the heat that rose from the asphalt. A man was pulling up on a motorcycle and the two men stepped off the curb behind the bike, already cursing at each other. They were big guys, so Vin had no intention of getting involved unless he had to, but he leaned against the wall of the club and watched as they crossed the lot, still yelling profanities and shoving at one another.

"Nice place," the new man said as he turned his engine off.

"Usually, it is," Vin answered without taking his eyes off the pair. A tall man was walking past on the sidewalk, pushing a shopping cart full of boxes and clothing. The homeless man said something that Vin couldn't hear, but both men stopped cursing at each other and they turned to face him. "Aw, shit," Vin said. He took a step forward and sent up a quick prayer that this wasn't about to turn ugly. Today was not his day for getting a prayer answered because the two took off after the homeless man. Seeing his own death coming at him, the man took off, at first he pushed his cart in front of him, bouncing along the walk, but he quickly abandoned it and sprinted down the street.

Vin exchanged a look with the stranger on the motorcycle. Most men avoided trouble, particularly trouble that came in two very large packages and particularly when the victim was 'only' a homeless man. Finding five men who Vin trusted at his back hadn't changed his mind about humanity in general. However, the man immediately kicked started his bike.

"Get on," he said. Vin threw his leg over the bike and grabbed the man around the waist as he took off. The bike dodged and weaved through the parking lot and over a crumbling chunk of concrete before they bounced up onto the sidewalk. Vin cursed and held on tighter as the stranger steered them between a fence and a mailbox with very little room on either side. The bullies were directly ahead of them now, and the driver pulled the bike to the far left side of the walk. Vin leaned to the right. The bike wobbled a little, but Vin reached out and punched bully number one in the back as they drove past.

The driver pulled the bike out into the road and did a u-turn sharp enough to make someone lay on the car horn. He pulled the bike around, but the homeless man wasn't running away now. Rushing toward the bike, he waved his hand. "Vin! Vin! You know me from Josiah's place!" That was probably true, but Vin didn't remember the man; he just knew that no one was going to pick on someone around him. The second the bike stopped, Vin jumped off the back and reached out to pull the homeless man behind him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the second bully demanded. He was drunk and angry, and his fists were drawn up at his sides.

"Seems like you're the one who needs to back off," the stranger said as he got off his bike. Vin could tell just from the voice that this was a man who wasn't bluffing. He had a certainty about him... a hardness that suggested that he was looking for a reason to hand out a little punishment.

"Who the fuck are you?" the bully demanded. His friend came up behind him, and their earlier fight had been forgotten in the face of an actual opponent who could fight back.

"Chris Larabee," the man said with a cold smile that just dared this guy to take a swing. Vin took a step forward so that he was on Chris' left, and the two of them presented a united front. They weren't as big as these two idiots, but Vin was guessing they were going to win this particular fight. Tires squealed and Buck's old car pulled up so close to the motorcycle that Vin thought he was going to hit it.

"I just can't trust you to stay out of trouble anywhere, can I?" Buck asked cheerfully as he got out of the car. The bullies were drawing back now. Picking on one homeless man was one thing, but the danger of their situation was just now sinking through the alcohol-fog in their brains.

"Got bored," Vin said.

"Next time you get bored, you might want to take Ezra with you. He was calling you all sorts of names for running off with a stranger," Buck said. He had pretty much dismissed the two bullies, and he was looking at Chris Larabee with an odd expression.

Chris was looking back at him in shock. "Buck Wilmington?" he finally asked.

Buck's eyebrows went up. "Chris? Oh my god, Chris Larabee as I live and breathe." Buck stepped forward and caught Chris in a one-armed hug. "Shit, you are looking rough. It must have been six or seven years."

"Closer to eight," Chris answered, slapping Buck on the back as he returned the hug. The two bullies took the opportunity to run for the hills, and Vin ignored them.

"Is this someone I should know?" Vin asked.

The two men backed away fromtheir hug. Buck's face was lit from inside with joy and the grin on his face was as honest and open as it could be, but Chris still had a tightness about his face; his smile was small and controlled.

"Vin, this is Chris Larabee. We served in the army together."

"Together?" Chris gave a bark of laughter. "I thought I was the corporal always kicking your ass."

Buck slapped his arm. "That too. I haven't heard from you in years. How's Sarah? My god, I don't even know if you had a little boy or a girl." Buck's smile didn't waver, but Chris' face turned to stone. Slowly, Buck's smile faded. "Chris?"

"She's dead." Chris looked off into the distance. Vin felt like a voyeur, watching a man in this much pain didn't seem right.

"Aw, fuck. Chris, I’m so sorry. What happened?"

Chris took a deep breath. "Boat caught on fire. She didn't get off, and the Coast Guard couldn't find her."

Buck rubbed his hand over his face and turned away. Vin backed off a step, wanting to give the men some privacy. "The baby?"

Chris didn't answer right away. "Adam," he said softly. "He was five. He was on the boat with his mom."

"Fuck," Buck breathed the word. "Aw, shit, Chris. I had no idea."

"Didn't want people to know. Spent the last year or two at the bottom of a bottle." Chris' confession was simple and plain, with none of the guilt or the hope Vin normally saw in recovering alcoholics. "I guess I was looking for a place to sit in the dark and try to find a reason to not find the bottom of a new bottle."

"Then you're coming back to the church with me."

"Church?" The first signs of alarm crossed Chris' face.

Vin made a rough huffing sound. "Yeah, that's what I thought the first time Josiah talked me into coming over," Vin said. "Luckily, you're more likely to get swindled in a game of dominoes or stuck washing dishes than anything else. For a church, there's not a lot of preaching going on." Vin promised.

Chris looked at him hopefully. "So, I won't get accosted by some preacher man telling me I need to forgive and forget?"

Vin shook his head. "Nope. Near as I can tell, Josiah still hasn't forgiven himself four days out of seven, and he doesn't forget, ever. I doubt he'd even try and talk you out of drinking. He may, however, say a lot of shit that makes no sense about rivers over stones and green pastures. We all just nod and try real hard to not think too hard on what he says. Josiah has a way of making a man question things, even when they don't want to."

"He's a good man," Buck said softly. "Josiah's been through a lot, and he's a good man. I know he'd want you to come and get some rest, at the very least."

"That might be good," Chris said.

"Hey, why don't you let Vin take the bike back to Ezra's place, and I'll take you over to the church. We've got an extra bedroom in the basement." Buck's voice was soft, and for a second, Vin could see Chris pulling back, like the sympathy was too much for him. Vin remembered losing his mother—the overwhelming pain of knowing he was alone in the world. Even so, he couldn't imagine how it felt to lose a wife and son. However, the flicker of hesitation passed, and Chris nodded. Turning toward Vin, he tossed the keys. And then, without a word, he went back to Buck's car with him. Unless Vin was gravely mistaken, their group of six had just turned into seven.

Epilogue.

Chris checked the internet connection, running the security protocols even though he didn't quite understand them. It took several seconds for the laptop to load the new desktop. He logged into the FBI system and waited.

The camera light blinked on a half second before Associate Deputy Director Smyth appeared.

"Larabee," he said with obvious relief. Then again, considering that the agency had been ready to boot him for his alcohol problem, Chris figured his boss had probably worried that Chris had crawled back into a bottle the second he got out of sight. "Is your cover secure?"

"My cover is pretty much my life," Chris pointed out. This wasn't a real job, and they both knew it, but if the agency left Chris alone and let him get on with staring at a wall and drinking enough whiskey to dull the pain, he'd live with this farce.

"Does your contact suspect you're FBI?"

"Buck just thinks I'm one more vet who got kicked in the teeth by life," Chris said. At one point he might have cared about playing nice, but that need for financial or professional success had died with Sarah and Adam.

"Good." Smyth nodded. "Any contacts so far?"

Chris shrugged. "Josiah Sanchez, ex-Ranger. He seems to be doing some holy man thing now, so I can't see him being involved enough to feed the local PD anything."

"I'll check his background," Smyth offered. "Anyone else?"

"Some small time hood, Vincent Tanner." Chris actually liked the man, so he hated putting the FBI on Vin's tail. However, the job was the job.

"Do you think he could be feeding the local LEOs their new intel?"

"I doubt it. He's a bouncer in a local club and he works part time for Buck picking up cons who jumped bail."

"And you're still sure Wilmington isn't the new informant?"

"Yeah, he has no reason to work with the police." Chris knew Buck well enough to know two things: his smile covered a lot more than was ever apparent and he couldn't afford to get in bed with cops. As far as Chris could tell, no one else had figured out that Buck was doing more than visiting the local whore houses, but the houses were clean and safe and the girls were all old enough to make their own choices. Chris wasn't going to make trouble on that front, especially considering that there wasn't any hard evidence that he'd found in his quiet investigating. He wasn't going to encourage the FBI shut down safe whore houses and put the women on the street where they'd be in danger every time they turned a trick.

"Just remember that you haven't known him for eight years, Chris. You're a long way from backup and this could get very dangerous."

"I doubt that," Chris said. "So far, I'm not anywhere near serious criminal activity or the police's link to it. It could take me months to figure out where the locals are getting their new intel."

Smyth nodded. Chris figured this was pretty low priority. After all, the locals had better control over the border here than they had in decades, so the spike in arrests for kidnapping and human trafficking and gun running were actually a good thing, not a sign that the FBI needed to ride in on a high horse and take the locals to task.

"Are you okay?" Smyth's question caught Chris totally off-guard. Bob Smyth had known Sarah. He'd known Adam, watched him play with the other kids during fucking company picnics. And suddenly Chris hated Smyth. He hated him for asking that when he knew better than most what Chris had lost.

"Do you really think I'll ever be okay?" Chris demanded.

Smyth had the decency to look away. He sighed. "I can't give you a lot of back-up on this, but if you need me to run names or check out stories, just let me know. Meanwhile, just collect whatever you can."

Chris nodded without answering.

"Chris, you were one of our best."

Chris stared at his boss, waiting for something that required an answer, because that had been a simple statement of fact. He had been one of the best. Past tense. He wasn't any more.

"Keep yourself safe," Smyth said softly. With another nod, Chris reached over and hit the disconnect button on his laptop. He really couldn't handle any more sympathy today. It was time for a whiskey. Maybe he'd even let Ezra talk him into that hand of poker. Losing a week's salary would be the cherry on the shit cake. Closing the laptop, Chris headed upstairs. Night had fallen, and the line for the soup kitchen would be getting long. He'd help Josiah with the sandwiches and then head over to Players Only for some whiskey and cards. Right now, that's all he had the mental energy for.

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Oh! The ending rocks! Talk about intrigue!

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Sunstroke, Insanity, and Faith (The End!)

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