Reassurances and Revelations
ATF Universe
Part of the Adiutor Amor Cervus series.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money
Authors note: Huge kudos and thanks to Firefox who, had the original idea, and generously gave it to me, and proof read it.
Buck walked into the file room as though his very own black cloud was hovering over him. If there was one thing in all the world Buck Wilmington was not cut out to be it was a file clerk. But since the rest of his team were on surveillance duties and he had still not been certified fit for fieldwork, he was stuck with filing. Updating past cases, cases so past they weren't even on computer, was driving him crazy with boredom. Mostly he was adding the deaths of suspects and witnesses to case files more than thirty years old. He ran his hand absentmindedly up and down his thigh, trying to rub out the ache. It had been there for four weeks now, before the doctor had withdrawn him from the last of the prescription painkillers, he had almost forgotten about it. Now it was back. The doctor had said he could take ibuprofen for the pain or even ibuprofen and paracetamol if he needed it, but he wouldn't. Taking the painkillers was giving in, admitting he wasn't healing as fast as he tried to pretend he was, as fast as he used to.Your getting old Buck, he told himself when the pain was at it's most annoying. But old or not he wouldn't give in. Four weeks ago he had been on the receiving end of four automatic rounds. His bullet-proof vest had saved his life, but one had grazed his skull and the last had torn into the fleshy part of his thigh. Initially it was the head wound that was the worry. He had lapsed into a coma and was slipping away from them. A comforting blackness had surrounded him. A blackness that offered an end to his pain, a pain so deep and so unremitting, not even a great fighter like Buck could face it. A pain that had nothing to do with bullets and everything to do with one, green eyed, gold toothed, undercover agent. But that pain had been lifted. Words came to him in the darkness, words of such power, of such unquestioning love that they drew him home, back to the one he loved. True, he had had the mother of all headaches for a week, his balance was shot to hell for a few days and he was a little weak down the right side, but all that had long since passed. It was the seemingly routine leg wound that was slowing his expected return to full work.
"Don't worry Mr Wilmington," the doctor had said, "the bone and major arteries are undamaged, you'll be up and about in no time." Well, the bone might have been fine, but the muscles and tendons weren't, not by a long way. Now, four weeks on and two weeks into physical therapy, he was finally improving.
Buck made a conscious effort to not rub his leg, as he set about his task. The administrative assistant. What was wrong with 'secretary', Buck wanted to know? Had placed all the files to be updated in one pile on the big, empty, steel desk in the basement file archive. All he had to do was sit there and add the relevant pages and addendum's from the stack he had brought with him. As he worked he kept catching the edge of the table with his new ID bracelet. Why was the table and, come to think of it the chair, steel, he wondered? The answer that came to him was fire, the records room was a fire safe room, theoretically. Eventually he took the bracelet off and placed it in his pocket. He didn't like to remove it but he was worried that the precious object was getting scratched. Lovingly he ran his fingers over it, brushing against the finally tooled gothic lettering on the underside. He closed his eyes and gently kissed it before placing it safely in his pocket. Then he steeled himself to the task ahead.
Time dragged and slowed and finally stopped altogether. He stopped working and just sat there with memories wafting around him, all of them pleasant. In the end he was dozing only half-awake as he sat in the stuffy, windowless room.
"Brother Buck!" Josiah Sanchez called from the door.
The big profiler smiled as the tall, dark haired man jolted fully awake. Pulling a hand over his face Buck turned to face the door.
"Oh hi Josiah, everything okay?" He wanted to ask 'is Ezra okay' since he had expected him to come and tell him they were back. But that might be too obvious. So far only JD knew about the relationship between the two men, and much as both men wanted to tell the world how they felt about each other, their jobs and their relationships with the rest of the team wasn't worth the risk.
"Fine, our brothers are finishing their reports, Ezra is helping Vin," he explained.
Ezra was a fast and accurate typist so he usually finished first, that left him time to help Vin with his. The notoriously shy sharpshooter was dyslexic, and it had taken a long time to make him believe that no one minded him asking for help with his written work. Buck's written work wasn't much better, though this was more due to a disrupted education than a specific difficulty. JD generally helped him out, but these days Ezra was filling that role more and more.
"We off then?" Buck asked Sanchez.
"Indeed, Ezra tells me he is going to join you for your afternoon swim," Josiah explained. Bucks’ physical therapist had encouraged him to swim as his principal exercise and to help rebuild the lost muscle in his leg.
Buck pushed back the unforgiving chair and pushed himself up. His leg twinged at the sudden weight it had to bear but he ignored it. That was his first mistake. Then he decided not to put his bracelet back on in front of Josiah. Mistake number two. He had only got three paces toward the door when his leg crumpled under him and he suddenly staggered to stay upright.
"Hell!" Josiah lurched forward and grabbed him under the armpits. "Buck?"
"Cramp," Buck ground out between gasps, his hand grasping the back of the injured thigh.
While Josiah was exceptionally strong, Buck was a good four inches taller than him and powerfully built, so it took some effort to move him back and get him resting against the edge of the table. As the cramped muscled pulled at the healing tendons, Buck gripped the table edge, white-knuckled. Sanchez had dropped to one knee, taken hold of his friends leg and begun massaging.
"Tell me if I hit something tender," he instructed.
"'S all tender," Buck hissed bitterly.
Josiah didn't respond to that, he just worked away at the muscles, trying to get them to relax, he knew how painful a bad leg cramp was, cramp in an already injured leg was hell. It took a good ten minutes before Buck laid a hand on Sanchez’ massive shoulder.
Sanchez looked up. "Alright now?"
"Yeah, thanks pal, 'ppreciate yer help."
Sanchez stood and smiled at him, one of his amazing tooth-filled grins. "No thanks needed brother, happy to help. Shall we go now?"
"Mmm, reckon a swim’ll be the best thing fer it 'bout now."
Buck walked, albeit stiffly, toward the door, Josiah following. At the door Sanchez turned to check the room before flicking off the harsh neon lights, just before he hit the switch his eye caught something. A small glint of something shiny, lying on the ground just where Buck had been leaning on the table.
"Hold up brother, looks like you dropped something."
It took Buck too long to turn for him to see what Josiah was retrieving from the floor and by the time he did it was too late. If he showed he was concerned it would just arouse the man's suspicions.
Sanchez picked up the bracelet and glanced at it. His profiler's analytical brain noted how heavy it was, too heavy to be silver, which meant it was white gold or platinum. He had seen it on Buck's right wrist on the odd occasion in the last few days. The front he knew was simply engraved 'BUCK' and then a four-leaf clover. He, like the others, assumed it was a good luck charm, probable given by Standish in recognition of Buck's actions that day, four weeks ago, in saving Ezra's life. He turned it over, not looking for any more engraving, but to see if there was a mark to indicate what metal it was. The back was engraved. This was not simple engraving; this was beautifully crafted gothic copper plate.
"Thanks Josiah." Buck held out his hand for the bracelet before Sanchez could look too closely, quickly putting it on. He had the chain set short, so the smooth plate, with its engraving, was constantly touching his wrist. An ever-present reminder.
As the two men walked to the elevator both were lost in memories. But while Josiah tried to bring his long-forgotten Latin to mind, Buck was fondly remembering the night just over a week ago, when he had received the gift he now held so dear.
ooOOOoo
Ezra had checked the room three times to make sure it was perfect. Tonight had to be perfect, tonight he was saying a kind of goodbye to the light of his life. It hadn't taken much to persuade Chris and the others how much better it would be for Buck to convalesce at his apartment than in his own. True, JD was at the CDC to take care of him, but his room was only reachable up a spiral staircase. When Buck had first been released he could barely walk and any stairs, let alone spiral stairs, were out of the question. He could have swapped beds with JD, but JD only had a single bed, Buck's feet would have stuck out over end more often than not. Ezra on the other hand, had a queen-size bed in his guestroom, in his first floor apartment, with its own bathroom including a walk-in shower. So Buck had moved in with his lover to recuperate. And that was all he did, rest and sleep - sleep a lot - and get better. Ezra would join him in bed, but only to hold him and for him to enjoy the comforting presence of his beloved so close.
Tomorrow Buck went home, the next day, Monday, he went back to work, true it was only desk duty, but he was going back - finally. Although he knew being off work was driving Buck crazy, Ezra wanted to keep him at home, keep him close and safe for ever. Buck was hurt because of him; he had placed himself in mortal danger because of him, even though Ezra had been wearing a bullet-proof vest. And why had he done this incredibly brave, reckless thing, because he was a brave man, though he never saw himself as brave, and because - at that moment - he had nothing left to live for. And whose fault was it? Who had drained the apparently unquenchable Wilmington lust for life? He had, Ezra P Standish, rat, cad of the highest order, coward.
In an instinctive, desperate bid to save himself the kind of emotional pain he had suffered all his life, he had wounded his love, a wound so deep it was almost fatal. If JD had not been there to talk and literally knock some sense into him, Buck would had given up on life and slipped away in the hospital, and it would have been all Ezra's fault. Ever since he had come to his senses and pulled Buck back from the brink he had been trying to make it up to him.
The room was lit with candles, the table laid with his best damask linen, silver cutlery, Wedgwood dinner service and cut crystal glasses. The meal was catered, Ezra would have like to have cooked it himself but he wasn't very good and tonight had to be perfect. Individual dressed lobster, followed by Beef Wellington and finally a toffee and caramel Pavlova. The wine was the best his cellar had, to be followed by a fine old brandy. It was as perfect as he could make it.
Buck had been out that afternoon for his daily swim, at the pool attached to the federal building's gym. Ezra had closed the sliding doors between the dining room and living room, and requested that on his return that he didn't peek. Buck got the message and after a shower and the second shave of the day, put on some light chinos with a matching jacket and the navy shirt Ezra liked, because it highlighted the colour of his eyes.
"Damn but your gorgeous!" Ezra exclaimed when Buck emerged into the living room.
In response Buck ducked his head and blushed. It was odd; he usually basked in compliments. When women told him he was good looking he enjoyed it; even bragged about it, but when Ezra did it he was embarrassed. Maybe because he thought Ezra was so much more beautiful than him. Buck wasn't a fool, he didn't try to pretend he wasn't good looking, he knew he was attractive, but having Ezra notice him and compliment him was somehow different. Ezra's opinion mattered, if a woman said he was attractive it was nothing to him, she would be out of his life as soon as she was in, her opinion of his visage was of no importance to him. Ezra would be, he hoped, in his life forever.
"Ain't exactly Quazimodo yourself. C'm here," Buck commanded.
As soon as Ezra was in range, he curled a hand around Ezra's waist and pulled the smaller man close to him. Running his hand up Ezra's back to his neck, then through the soft, neat chestnut hair, finally coming to rest against Ezra's cheek.
"Beautiful," Buck breathed. "Gorgeous, handsome, elegant, attractive, pretty…" Running out of compliments, he bent and captured Ezra's eager lips. "Mine," he finally breathed as he pulled away.
"Pretty?" Ezra arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah, why not? Where's it written only women and babies can be pretty? When yer all done up in yer fancy suits yer as pretty as a picture." He bent and again kissed his beautiful lover.
The meal was perfect, the wine was perfect and the brandy was perfect. Now they sat side by side on the sofa, Buck's long arm around Ezra, whose head rested in the crook of Wilmington’s shoulder. Both men had kicked off their shoes and now two pairs of feet, one clad in black silk socks and one in navy cotton, rested on the 1930's mahogany coffee table, one black silk clad set of toes rubbing lazily up and down one navy cotton ankle.
"Love you," Ezra stated quietly.
"Love you too," Buck responded.
"I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow, don't…" He looked up at Wilmington. "Don't say you have to, don't say we have to be careful, don't say people will talk if you stay. I know all that, I still wish it wasn't so."
Buck didn't respond verbally, he just sighed and kissed the top of Ezra's head, then rested his chin on it. He didn't want to leave. Despite the injuries this had been the best three weeks of his life. He wanted this to be his life, to live with Ezra forever, no more hiding, no more watching every word, every gesture, every glance; but he was a realist and for better or worse this was how it had to be.
"Buck, I want to talk about it."
'It' was that terrible night Buck had come to him and asked him to say the three magic words, to say 'I love you'. Now he said them freely, repeatedly, but not then. Then, when Buck came looking for that small measure of commitment, that little token that what they had, what he felt and believed Ezra felt was real, Ezra had turned on him. He was afraid, no terrified, of being hurt yet again, so he pushed Buck away before he could be abandoned. And he had used the most powerful weapon he had - scorn. He told Buck he wasn't good enough, that he was a Standish, a Standish had sailed with the Pilgrim Fathers, his family was old, rich and distinguished and Buck? Well Buck was poor white trash, and that was all there was to it, the son of a Las Vegas hooker was never going to be the life partner of a Standish.
But just twenty four hours later the devastation his words had caused and what the consequences might be were brought home to him, when he saw what he had done, he knew he was wrong. Buck would never hurt him. And his guilt was almost too much to bear. Buck naturally forgave him, said he understood, and didn't -wouldn't- talk about it. But Ezra, with his finely attuned senses, knew it was still an issue for the tall man he now lay against.
He felt Buck stiffen, the comforting weight of his head was lifted from Ezra's.
"Please Buck, I don't want any unspoken issues between us, please," he implored.
"It's past, over, forgotten, don't rake it over again." There was a hint of anger in Buck's normally calm, velvet tones.
"But it isn't forgotten." Ezra pulled his feet off the table and sat up so he could turn and face Buck. "I know you, I know you're still hurt and angry, but you…well you don't ever want to talk about your needs and feelings. I still don't understand that night, you never ask for anything for yourself."
Buck wouldn't look him in the eye.
"Please let me in, you have wormed your way past my every defence, yet I still can't get past even one of yours."
Still Buck tuned his head away.
"I'm begging here my beloved, let me in so I can understand, so I can find away to show you how much I love you. I will do anything, I will tell the guys, I will tell the judge, I'll hire the Broncos scoreboard and have it written in light at the next big game - Ezra loves Buck- anything! But please don't turn away from me now. Please."
When Buck finally did look back, there were tears in his eyes.
"I…What you said…I know you were just trying to protect yourself, an' believe me if I ever get my hands on any of them people who hurt you - well they won't be walkin' upright fer a week, and…" he held Ezra's anguished emerald eyes, "that includes Maude, mother or not, she hurts you, I've heard her, I've seen the way she treats you. She's your mother but if you ever want to tell her about us, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind."
"I intend to tell mother about us the next time she is here, whatever her failings, I think I owe it to her to tell her face to face, she has her heart set on grandchildren, to continue the family name, you understand."
"Fair enough." The smallest of smiles escaped Buck's expressive face. "Bet they weren't ever gonna get to call her 'granny'."
"Heaven's no! I have no problem with what ever you have to say to her, it will, in all likeliness be what I have wanted to say for years and never had the courage. I think we have established my yellow belly credentials."
"You ain't no coward Ezra, I've been under cover with you. I seen what you do, I couldn't do that on my own for weeks on end, no way."
Ezra was tempted to disagree, no matter what it was, Buck Wilmington seemed to be able to rise to every challenge and face any danger. But now was not the time, besides it would be hopeless, Buck never ever saw what he did as heroic, - lucky, stupid, necessary - but never heroic.
"It's what you said," Buck continued, his head came down briefly than he looked up again, pain and something else, shame or maybe disappointment showing in his open features. "I'm just poor white trash, I know that, ain't got no illusions. But I've tried to be more than that, thought I'd done it, thought people didn't see me as trash anymore…"
"Stop…please stop," Ezra implored, he couldn't bear to hear any more. He remembered JD's words in the hospital -How do you think he feels every time someone calls him a' son of a bitch?'- he had asked. He hadn't thought about it, not even then. He had never thought about the prejudices and preconceptions Buck had faced, and fought to overcome in his life. How many times had he been told or made to think he was trash, nothing, a thing of no value? As a child -despite his mothers evident love and support- probably too often. And in those three nightmare years, when he had single-handily kept Larabee from self-destructing? How many times had Chris rejected him, pushed him away? Just how often could a person be rejected and it not undermine his self worth? Buck was so eternally confident, so easy in any company, so relaxed in almost any situation, it never occurred to him that this Buck, the one everyone saw, was the product of hard work. He hadn't just sprung fully formed, Buck had worked damn hard to become the man he was. And you, Ezra chided himself. You told him all his hard work was for nothing.
"No one sees you as anything other than a friend, a fine law officer, a brave man, an honourable, decent, honest man, a true gentleman! And while you may have been monetarily poor as a child, and there is no denying you are white; you are not trash, not now, not then, not ever. Trash is something of no value to be discarded. Your value is immeasurable, to your friends, to the law enforcement community, to the team. Do you…" He reached forward and took hold of Buck's hand. "…not realise that you are the heart of our team, our family, the lynch pin that holds us together?"
Buck shook his head in denial. "I'm Chris' friend, I took in the kid and trained him, but he doesn’t need me for that now. I'm not like the rest of you, I don't have a specialist skill, what knowledge I had about explosives is well out of date now. I got on the team 'cause Chris wanted one person he knew and trusted right from the start and…'cause he felt he owed me, that's all."
"Don't you understand?" Ezra implored, "Chris is our leader, he is the most dominant, forceful, naturally aggressive personality I have ever met, but that needs to be tempered or it will consume him, tempered by someone who is more even and diplomatic, but strong enough to stand up to him - you. Vin is our eyes and our ears, no one sees more in one facial tick, one inflection, than that scruffy Texan, but he lacks the confidence to express himself, to ask when he needs help, or he did until you got under his skin and showed him it was okay to ask for help; and he needs Chris, he needs Chris' strength, and the control of that strength lies in you. Chris lashes out blindly when he's hurt, if he were to do it to Vin or JD they might not understand, might not recover, so you step in and take it, you do it time and again, deflecting Chris' anger onto yourself, so no-one else gets hurt. And…" Ezra now dropped to his knees in front of Wilmington, holding both Buck's hands between his own much smaller ones. "…you have done it for me, I know it, even when I was new and you weren't sure you could trust me, you still did it."
"I had too, Chris don't understand what hurt he can do, just 'cause he don't hurt like that, he reckons others don't. I've known him so long I can see the signs, it's just easier if'n he lets fly at me, I'm used to it."
"But it still hurts, doesn't it?" Ezra challenged.
Buck looked away.
"Doesn't it?" Ezra pushed some more.
Finally his lover nodded.
"Josiah is our mental and spiritual health, Nathan our physical healer and our calm voice of reason, and JD? He's our enthusiasm, youth, and wide-eyed wonder; and he does still need you. If you had seen him that day at the hospital, if you had seen the rage, the passion, the determination… there is nothing, and I do mean nothing that young man…" Ezra had almost said 'boy' but that would be wrong. When JD joined the team he was a boy -lost, lonely, grieving for his mother- but under the all-encompassing protective wing of 'mother hen' Wilmington, he had grown up into a man. "…would not have done to save you, to keep you, you’re his big brother, his family, we all need family. And as family he loves you."
Buck smiled at this. "He's a good kid," he said very quietly.
"He's your kid and he still needs you -remember that, whatever he may say, he needs you. And so we come to yours truly - well I'm the cynicism, the realist, and the provider of material things and information. But you are the lynch pin, you are what holds us together. If we lost you…if God forbid I lost you, I could not go on, nor could JD, Chris would lash out in anger -as he always does when he's hurt- most likely at Vin, and he wouldn't understand, he would actually leave when Chris told him too. Nathan is too much of a pragmatist, to remain with a team that is tearing itself apart from within, and Josiah -actually I don't know what he would do, but given his temper I don't think it would be pretty. That is what you mean to the team, to our family. And so we come to what you mean to me, personally. To me you are beyond value, a thing so precious that nothing, absolutely nothing, could replace you or compensate me if I were to lose you."
Finally Buck pulled one arm free and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "If you lose me Ezra P Standish, it will be none of my doing, I promise you. If you want me for life, you have me, all of me."
"I do and I wouldn't trade one single bit of you, not for anything."
For the first time a real smile split the face of his beloved as Ezra watched him. "Even the snoring?" he asked.
"Yes even that, it lets me know you’re here, with me, even when you are in another room in the dead of night, I can hear you."
Buck frowned at him. "What are you doing in another room while I'm asleep?" He wanted to know.
"Beloved, there is nowhere I love to be more, than in bed with you - but- when you first came here you slept up to fifteen hours a day, and much as I love you, I can't stay in bed for fifteen hours a day!" Ezra explained good naturedly. "It let me know you were still breathing, I used to leave the door open so that I could hear you."
"You make me sound like a baby, I'm surprised you didn't get one of them monitor things," Buck joked, finally relaxing.
Ezra looked momentarily embarrassed.
"Ezra?"
"I only used them for the first week," he protested.
"Used what?"
"JD rigged up a surveillance mike so I could hear you on a portable set."
Buck suddenly sat up. "Where? The bedroom?"
"Um, well, yes," Ezra admitted hesitantly.
"And?"
"Well everywhere…look, before you kill me, the doctor said there might be complications, you might black out with out warning, I just wanted to be sure…they're all gone now, only me and JD knew and only I could listen in," he added quickly. "I just was so scared something might happen to you and I wouldn't be there to help you…forgive me?"
Ezra had this look, this 'it's not my fault I only did it for the best' look, all open eyes, raised eyebrows and boyish charm. Buck was helpless to resist it.
"In the bathroom?" Buck enquired tilting his head over and smiling.
"Um… well now you mention it yes, there too. You might have fallen coming out of the shower, I mean you weren't very steady on your feet and you insisted on doing things on your own and not calling me when you needed assistance, and…"
"It's alright Ez, I forgive you. You were really that worried about me?" Even now Buck seemed amazed anyone would worry about him the way he worried about them. He shook his head. "And you guys call me a 'mother hen'! Just how often were you listening any way?"
"Not THAT often, just when you were out of my sight."
"Oh."
"It sounded good."
"What?"
"Your Elvis impersonation, I liked 'In The Ghetto' best."
"In the words of someone not a million miles from here. Oh dear Lord!"
"No really, it was good, very entertaining, I just…" Ezra lent forward and reached out to lay his hand along that wonderfully strong jaw line. "…want to be sure you understand how much I love you."
"I do."
"Good because I got you something, you wanted commitment and you have it and I want the world to know…and before you say anything, the world just won't know they know."
Buck looked totally bewildered at this seemingly contradictory statement. But, as he watched, Ezra pulled an expensive looking jewellers’ box, long and thin, from behind one of the cushions in the corner of the sofa. Ezra had been kneeling on both knees, now he was on one knee as he offered the box to Buck, who accepted it and, now consumed with curiosity, opened it instantly.
Buck picked up the chain, feeling its weight, he tested it, balancing it on his fingers.
"White gold," Ezra supplied.
Buck looked at the simple inscription on the front, and smiled.
"Turn it over," Ezra prompted.
Ezra then translated and explained the inscription. When he was done he waited for some reaction. Buck was sitting forward running his finger back and fourth across the intricate engraving. Finally, without looking up, he handed the bracelet back to Ezra.
Ezra's face dropped, he felt his world crumble, as he took the jewellery back. He had gone too far, more than anything, he had wanted to give his lover a tangible symbol of his love, some permanent physical proof; now he just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. But as he looked down at the little heap of gold in his hand, something else came into his line of vision. A wrist, a strong, bare, tanned wrist.
ooOOOoo
Josiah and Buck stood in the elevator car as it rose from the basement to the eighth floor, where Team Seven had their offices. Buck stood against the wall, seemingly holding on to the rail behind him, while all the time he was in fact running his thumb over the name plate on his bracelet. He remembered the feeling as Ezra fastened it on his wrist, the sensation of the cool metal resting on his skin, knowing the words of love were there, next to him, touching him - always.
Sanchez was concentrating on what he had seen. The fancy lettering hadn't been easy to read quickly but he had at least some Latin and that helped. One of the words was 'amor', well you didn't need to be a Latin scholar to work that one out. Maybe, some girl had finally snared him, and now with this bracelet put her mark on him. Josiah might be the oldest in the team, and considered along with Nathan, to be the voice of reason, but he could still get curious and if necessary, devious.
The two agents entered their office to find Chris' office door closed and the blinds down. Buck shot a questioning glance at Josiah, who just shrugged. Nathan was reading, JD was at his computer and, after near two years of experience, Buck knew from the young man's body language he was surfing. A smile played briefly on Buck's lips as he caught sight of Ezra. He was seated at Vin's computer, while the lean Texan sat beside him, straddling the nearest convenient chair -Buck's - watching as Ezra checked his report, Standish would stop occasionally to query something with Tanner, and then go on. Ezra had come a long way in a short time with Team Seven; from the selfish, lazy, distrustful, insular loner he had been when he came to Denver, to the man he saw before him; resourceful, brave, trusting, giving -if not actually generous, well not yet, but Buck was still working on him- and romantic. His heart filled with pride at the sight of Ezra, selflessly giving his time to help someone else. His Ezra, his love, his life from now on.
Josiah walked past Buck and over to Vin and Ezra.
"Brother Vin, how would it be if I took over from our southern brother so he may accompany Buck to the pool?"
Vin pushed the chair back away from the table, and glancing over at Buck and smiled. "Sure 'Siah, if'n yer don't mind that is?"
"I'm happy to be of assistance."
Ezra hit save to secure what he'd done so far and rose from the chair. "Mr Sanchez, thank you."
"Oh hey! Can I come?" JD suddenly asked, bouncing up from his desk.
"It's a free country kid," Buck responded.
The three swimmers had been gone about an hour when Chris finally emerged from his office. Josiah had long ago finished the report for Vin, who was now working on a personal project at his computer, Nathan was still reading and Josiah was using an online Latin lexicon to try to translate the Latin on the bracelet. The three men all -with out realising it- held their breath. Chris shut off in his office for nearly two hours was a potentially dangerous scenario. Larabee walked up the line of desks. Three of his team were missing, and the others there were doing no work at all. Of course there was no work to do at the moment. Since they were doing surveillance for another team and non of their cases were unresolved, once the surveillance reports were written they were just killing time until five and they could leave.
"So where are the 'dynamic duo' and the gambler?" he asked.
"Swimming," Nathan supplied without looking up.
"Cowboy?" Vin enquired, looking up from his terminal. "What yer been doin' in there?" With the exception of Wilmington, no one else would have asked the question of Larabee quite that bluntly.
It wasn't a legendary Larabee glare that spread itself across Chris' face, more a look of pure devilment.
"Pencil neck politics," he said, with unmistakable amusement in his voice.
"I take it brother, that you were victorious?" Josiah asked.
"Oh yes." Chris grinned evilly as he stood behind Josiah. "Latin?" he asked.
Josiah sat back. "You notice a change in Buck recently? I don't mean after he was injured, before."
"Changed how?" Chris asked.
"He ain't been braggin'," Vin supplied without looking up.
"That's right, now you mention it, he ain't given us one report of his exploits in months," Nathan observed.
"But he's was datin' regular, 'til he got shot," Vin added.
Chris frowned. "And your point is?" he enquired.
"That bracelet he's sporting, it has an engraving on it," Josiah explained.
"We know, it says 'Buck' and a four leaf clover, I assume Ez gave it to him - so?" Larabee pointed out, still confused.
"Not that engraving, on the back, it has a Latin inscription, something 'amor' something."
"Hell even I know that means love," Vin said
"Right, the site I've been using says it means 'passionate sexual love'. Now I'm sure the last word was 'cervus' which means 'stag'."
"Buck," Nathan said suddenly. Three sets of eyes turned to him. "Buck means young stag."
"Exactly."
"Sooooo someone or something loves Buck," Chris reasoned.
"Loves him enough to give him a bracelet made of platinum or white gold, it's too heavy to be silver," Josiah supplied.
"You mean he finally snared one fool enough to stick around?" Vin asked incredulously.
"Oh God, a married Buck? It don't bear thinkin' about!" Chris exclaimed. "What was the first word?"
"Now that I'm not sure of, the lettering is gothic and I only saw it for a few seconds -but I have come up with three possibilities," Josiah explained. "Adjicio, which means 'to add', adjuitor which apparently means 'helper' and adjungu, 'to join', but I'm fairly sure there was an 'I' in it. That's as far as I've got." He sat back, knowing the others curiosity was peeked.
"Well…" began Chris, "…if the last word is a Latin version of Buck, I'd assume the first word is a Latin version of her name. In which case 'helper' would seem to be most likely, I can't believe someone’s name means 'to add', there must be sites that tell you what names mean."
"There are, but you have to know the name, not the meaning - we'll have to go through all the female names one by one," Josiah explained.
"I ain't got nothin' better t' do," Vin stated, as Josiah brought the site up.
Nathan was feeling uneasy, something about this didn't feel right. "Guys, should we be doing this? I mean, it feels a bit like we're invading his privacy. If he wanted to tell us who she is he'd have done it, I mean it ain't like Buck is shy."
Their enthusiasm suddenly waned. Nathan was right and they all knew it. Despite the extrovert, loud, playful front, Buck was a very private man about some things. If he didn't want you to know something you were not going to know it and if he had a personal secret about any of them he would take it to his grave if necessary, and they all knew it.
"If this is what we think it is, he might be a mite sensitive, at least until he's sure, I mean this is all new to him -right?" Nathan looked at Chris.
"Far as I know he's never been serious about anyone," Chris admitted.
Josiah was suddenly very, very ashamed of his uncharacteristic behaviour, Nathan was right. It was one thing to tease Buck about his one-night stands, but if the big rogue had finally found what -in Josiah's opinion- he had been looking for all his life, namely a stable permanent relationship, he didn't want to risk spoiling it for him in any way. Because despite his constant claims that he was not the marrying kind, Josiah was personally and professionally convinced Buck was very much the marrying kind, and when he found the love of his life he would be the most faithful husband in the history of the world.
"God when you're right Nate, you're right, damn!"
"So what do we do now, while we wait fer the mermaids to come back?" Vin wanted to know, now wishing the damn report hadn't taken so long and he could have gone for a swim too.
"Since you got that site up Josiah, click on the boys name, does it tell you what Christopher means? I know it has something to do with Christ, but what exactly?"
Feedback welcomed at ph2217@hotmail.com