The words grabbed Chris’s heart and twisted it in on itself.

Vin was all right. He had to be!

Chris wouldn’t… couldn’t… accept anything else.

"But I don’t…"

"Please give me a chance to explain," Travis requested gently.

Chris sank stiffly into the seat provided. The general nodded encouragement as he moved to the whisky decanter and poured two drinks.

"The story behind his survival is long and complicated, but before I say more, you must understand Vin has no idea who he is, or what he did during the war.”  Travis passed Chris one of the glasses. “He was smuggled home with a severe case of jungle fever. As a result, he has no recollection of the war -- none."

"Brain damage?" Chris asked, a lump forming in his throat.  Larabee knew of men who had suffered mental impairment following Jungle Fever.

"No, but he has total amnesia, a result, I believe of a combination of the fever and post traumatic stress.”  Travis lowered his emotional voice.  “He was lucky to survive."  Travis drained his drink, at the same time, noting Chris hadn’t touched his.  The glass was clutched with white-knuckled tightness - Larabee’s breathing rapid and breathy.

"But he’s okay," Chris confirmed, the words wavering with fear.

Travis frowned.  “I guess that is a matter of opinion.”

"What the hell does that mean!” Chris snapped with volume.

"Vin remembers nothing. For the last two years, he’s been in the CIA witness protection programme. He believes he witnessed a mob killing and is in hiding."

It was all too much for Chris to take in. A thousand questions welled in his mind. "But how?" he managed to choke.

"Vin owes his life to an Australian squad and to Colonel Gaston."

"Gaston." Chris repeated. The Australian colonel had often shared a drink with the team in Katinda.

"I know very few details. I can’t tell you who set Vin up. What I know is based on a letter given to me after Gaston was killed. The envelope stipulated it was only to be opened once the colonel was dead. The information contained was an account of what happened to Vin. He owes Gaston his life."

Chris stared into the dark liquid in his glass.  “Go on.”

Travis began to pace. "As far as Gaston was able to discern, Vin received his orders from a man in a Major’s uniform - as we already knew. Gaston discovered there was a mission, but it sent Vin with false information into an Australian platoon. Whoever set this up worked out every detail, but didn't count on Vin recognizing the orders couldn't possibly be valid. Instead of delivering the false orders, Vin made it to the platoon and warned them of the impending air strike. By the time he got there…” Travis sighed and turned to face Chris.  “Apparently he could barely stand up.”

Chris’ Adam’s apple jumped.

“He collapsed after giving the message, and lost consciousness."

Chris shut his eyes. It was exactly as he’d always suspected. Vin had carried out the mission, but had been too ill to return.

"The platoon leader realized who he was and his men carried Vin to safety. Instead of leaving it at that, the Australians personally contacted Colonel Gaston, knowing he knew you. Gaston flew straight out there with every intention of bringing Vin back.”

“Why didn’t he?” Chris demanded.  Amongst the shock, anger was born.  Gaston had no right to keep this from him.

“He realized whoever betrayed Vin was close.  Close enough to provide Vin with orders.  Gaston suspected one of us.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Perhaps. To protect Vin’s life, he took things into his own hands. Vin’s condition was serious."

"How serious?" The dreadful strain formed creases under Larabee’s eyes.

"At the time, it was questioned whether he’d live. Gaston arranged for Vin to be sent home." Travis paused, gauging Larabee’s reaction.

Chris was frozen, his face reflecting a multitude of emotions as he tried to sort out what he was being told.

“Gaston removed Vin’s dog tags and sent him to a D.C hospital where he remained in a coma for over eight weeks."

Chris lowered his face. I should have been there for you. I’m so sorry, Cowboy.

"To make everything convincing, Gaston personally planted Vin’s dog tags on the body of that dead soldier we found. The Australian squad that rescued Vin was wiped out two days after bringing him in, which meant Gaston was the only man on the planet who knew Vin was alive. Vin recovered in hospital, but has no recollection of the war.  Gaston had contacts in the CIA and arranged for Vin to be placed in witness protection," Travis finished.

Chris exhaled slowly. "He made a full recovery?" For the first time, Travis relaxed. Larabee was more concerned about his friend than the information being kept from him.

"Basically. The experience has left him confused and suspicious of everyone."

Chris nodded.  He’d seen that reflected in Vin’s eyes in the slides.  Larabee’s brow creased with concentration. "When did you find out?"

Travis swallowed, recognizing his relief was premature. He could lie, but Larabee would find out, and then there'd be hell to pay.

"About a year ago."

Chris nodded - and then his face shadowed with undiluted rage as his mind processed the information.

"A YEAR." Larabee rose to his feet, his eyes wide.

"Chris, before you...."

"A YEAR!" Larabee exploded, stepping toward Travis like an avenging angel. He grabbed the front of the general’s shirt.  "What the hell do you mean?"

"Calm down.”  Orin struggled to remove Chris’ vice-like grip.

"You bastard!  You've known a year.”  Chris pulled Orin so their faces were only an inch apart. “Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to but..."

"BUT? You bastard!” Chris shoved the other man.  Travis staggered backwards, colliding with the desk. “You saw what we went through. You knew what it did to us. Why?"  Larabee’s hands balled into fists in a physical attempt to restrain himself.

Travis straightened and spoke firmly.  “Calm down and I'll explain."

Chris’ eyes were wild.  "You think you can explain this?"

"I know it is hard for you to understand, but I thought I was doing the right thing," Travis spat, his own anger on the rise.

"The right thing? For who!"

"For Vin!"

The pair froze, glaring at each other.

"His health and happiness are what’s important here," Travis reminded Laraabee. 

Chris’ face twisted.  "How could you possibly think the best thing for Vin was…?"

"Because you would have gone and found him.”  The anger died.  Travis sighed. “Chris, he’d been back almost a year, and was beginning to build a new life for himself. He was safe. There was nothing to do but interfere."

"You... you think we would have interfered?”  Chris choked. “He was one of us. One of my boys. Josiah, Nathan and Buck..."

"I know," Travis acknowledged, gently.  He stepped forward and placed his hand on Chris’ arm. "That's why I knew you'd understand. I knew you’d all want what was best for Vin. If I’d told you, you would have demanded to see him. Vin would have gotten his memory back, and lost any chance of living a normal life."

Chris stared at Travis. The empty words sank in and unfortunately, they made sense. Without knowledge and recollection of Katinda, Vin had a chance at a normal existence – something that would be stolen if his experiences from the war returned.

"When I found out, you were in the middle of the trial. It wouldn't have helped you or Vin to be told at that time. You needed to have clear heads in the witness box. Your lives were on the line, remember."

Chris remembered. He remembered being charged with both murder and treason. He remembered being handcuffed… seeing his boys mistreated. He remembered standing in the witness box and trying to justify his actions in front of a media circus.

"After you were cleared, I…  I didn’t know how to tell you, or if I had the right to deny Vin a normal life. In the letter, Gaston requested I not tell you because you'd take away Vin’s chance to exist without Katinda to haunt him.”  Travis paused, the agony on his friend’s face cutting him deeply.  “Chris, I didn't know what to do.  Maybe I made a mistake." Orin picked up a faded, hand-written document from his desk. "If you read the last page you may understand my decision."

Unfolding the time worn letter with fingers that were trembling ever so slightly, Chris read the last three paragraphs.

'I know you must be wondering why I sent this to you and not Colonel Larabee. It was a hard decision, but my concern is for Vin alone. Whoever double-crossed him is close. I don’t trust anyone and I’m determined to protect Lieutenant Tanner. He risked his life to save an Australian squad. My brother was in a platoon he saved a few months ago. I owe Tanner more than I can ever repay.

If anyone discovers Vin’s alive, his life will be in danger. I know you’ll keep the boy's secret. Please don't tell anyone, particularly the STF1. They will want to see him and ruin any chance of Tanner living a normal life after this. Vin has been given a second chance. By some miracle, Katinda has been erased from his memory. With it gone, and everyone thinking he’s dead, Vin Tanner can start where he left off before coming over here. He deserves that. Anyone who cares about him couldn’t ask for a greater gift.

Keep an eye on him, Orin.  He may need help if anyone finds out who he is. I trust you, and I leave Lieutenant Tanner’s fate in your hands.

Unconscious tears were rolling down Chris Larabee’s cheeks. He was a hard man whose tears had dried up years earlier because emotion like this had been barren since losing his best friend.  Emotion had found him again.  Chris would give his life to spare Vin… any of this boys… memories of incidents like Kim Mai and a dozen like it.

"Why are you telling me now?" the colonel whispered.

"Vin’s life’s in danger. Six weeks ago, he disappeared from the safe area he’d been living as part of the witness protection programme. A couple of nights ago, a file was stolen from my office. It outlined details of the programme."

"You think someone..." Abruptly, all the pieces fell into place. Larabee’s eyes widened. The contract. The Hawks. "KANE’S GOING AFTER VIN."

Travis nodded. "I think so. That’s why I activated Special Forces.”

"Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?” Chris snarled.  The muscles in his neck tightened like cords. Rage found root. “If anything happens to Vin, you’ll pay with your life, Travis!"

As the general watched Larabee dash from his office, he knew with absolute certainty, it hadn’t been an idle threat.

**********

J.D. typed at his computer, making a valiant attempt to focus on his work, but it was impossible. He had no idea what was going on in Travis’s office downstairs, or perhaps, it was because he did know what was happening he was worried. Surely Chris would be pleased. Surely his leader would be relieved. Surely!

The youth glanced at Josiah who was blissfully pouring over a manual for a new gadget he insisted would make life easier for the team. Nathan was writing up the report for the last mission - good old Nathan. The medic always made sure the paper work was in order. J.D. swept his eyes to Ezra. The other agent was on the phone to 'an old friend' trying to find out more information on the Hawks and the contract. He was so damn cool and calm. How did he do that?

The computer specialist glanced at his best friend. Buck appeared to be reading the document Chris had given him, but the satisfied grin on his face was a dead give-away he had an aircraft magazine tucked away behind the folder --  drooling over the next helicopter he hoped to buy once he won Lotto.

The beep from the elevator caused the group to pause and glance in that direction. They knew Chris had been called into Travis's office. J.D exchanged a nervous look with Ezra. The older agent nodded in reassurance.

When the doors eased open, Chris Larabee burst forth like the Hounds of Hell were after him. His face was intense, his pupils dilated and he was yelling at the top of his lungs.

"J.D., I want you to...hell! He won't be using his name!" Larabee smashed his fist into the wall as a torrent of curses erupted from his mouth. The bottled up emotions exploded free with violent force. Not just emotions from the past half an hour, but from the past two years.

The men of E.M.6 leapt to their feet. While they knew their leader had a violent temper, he rarely lost it. Chris Larabee was usually a very controlled man. What they were witnessing was the release of raw emotion and they knew it.

The group looked to Buck. He, and only he, could deal with Chris at a time like this. The captain moved in, the others preparing to offer assistance. Something had upset their boss - something out of the ordinary.

Buck moved swiftly.  He hadn't seen Chris like this since…"What is it?"

Larabee froze, his chest heaving. He turned to the stunned men flocked behind him, opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn't have the words he needed.

"Chris?" Nathan asked, stepping closer. Chris’ face had gone white. If the medic didn't know better, he’d say Chris was going into shock.

"He's alive," Chris whispered.

No one responded. Somehow they guessed what Chris meant and they knew it was impossible. Had being forced to hire a sharpshooter caused Larabee to...

"Who's alive, Chris?" Josiah asked gently. He was a certified psychologist. If ever he needed those skills, he realized it was now.

Larabee recognized the tone of Sanchez’s voice and saw the looks of sympathetic horror on Nathan and Buck's faces. "Vin's alive,” he clarified.

The men’s expressions of sympathy deepened.

"Dammit, boys, he’s alive! He was rescued by the Australian platoon he saved, sent home secretly by Colonel Gaston; was in a coma for eight weeks; has no memory of the war; was a part of the CIA witness protection programme until a couple of weeks ago when he took off without explanation. Now he's missing and there's a damn good chance the fifty million contract is on his life." It all tumbled out of Chris's mouth in a single breath.

For several moments there was silence.

"He's alive?" Josiah asked, incredulously.

"Chris?" Buck demanded.

"He’s alive," Larabee repeated.

Josiah, Nathan and Buck stared at their friend. Chris meant it. Without explanation, grins formed on their startled faces.

"Vin's alive?" Nathan asked carefully.

Chris nodded and repeated very softly, "He’s alive."

The relief was overwhelming. No one was capable of conscious thought. Their emotions bubbled and before they knew it, were exploding out of them in the form of unrestrained laughter and shouts of confusion and joy.

"J.D., VIN'S ALIVE," Buck cried, grabbing the younger man and swinging him around.

"Son of a bitch is alive!" Josiah roared, wrapping his arms around Nathan and roughly bouncing his friend up and down.

Only Chris remained quiet. Slowly, the E.M.6 leader sank onto the edge of Nathan’s desk. Unlike the others, who were riding out an adrenaline rush, he found himself drained. For two years he’d held onto the 'knowing' in his soul. He’d known his best friend was alive, but he'd been so afraid the innate feeling was wrong. Thank, God. Thank, God everything he’d believed and hoped -- and prayed -- was true.

"My friends, I hate to interrupt your celebration, but if the contract is on Lieutenant Tanner as we believe, then he is out there alone with some very formidable mercenaries looking for him.”

Ezra's words snapped the former members of the STF1 free of their euphoria.

"The Hawks!" Nathan shrieked.

"Kane’s going after Vin!" Josiah boomed releasing Nathan.

"We have to find him," Buck roared.

"Which will not be easy. If Lieutenant Tanner has no memory, he has no place to fall back on or run to. He could be anywhere."

"Ezra's right," Josiah acknowledged, swallowing.  He needed to calm himself. 

Chris Larabee stood. Vin was in danger. It was time for the team to act. "We start with the place he was last working and living before he disappeared. J.D..."

"I'm on it, Colonel, but the trail is already six weeks cold."

Six weeks. The words echoed in Larabee's mind.

"That’s never stopped you before, Kid," Buck insisted.  “We need one of your miracles.”

Six weeks.

"You've got to find him, J.D.," Nathan added.

Six weeks.

"I need a starting place."

Six weeks. Chris swallowed and shot Buck a strangled look. Six weeks of dreams riding side by side with Vin. Buck stared at his leader curiously, and then he realized. Six weeks. The connection between Chris and Vin was that strong!

"He's in Texas, J.D.," Buck stated in a deadpan and emotionless voice. The other men eyed the captain who was still staring at their leader.

Chris breathed out slowly. "It's a large ranch." Larabee closed his eyes as he tried to control the emotions threatening to consume him. A split second later, he was giving orders. He couldn’t afford to ‘drop his bundle’ now. Vin was in danger and the sharpshooter needed protection. "J.D., I want a list of every ranch in Texas larger than 1000 acres."

"Yes, Sir." The boy knew better than to question where the sudden information came from.

"Buck, clear a window for us."

"When? Fifteen minutes?"

Chris nodded shortly. "Ezra, I want everything Travis, the CIA, Special Forces and anyone else has on Vin. I want to know what was in the file stolen and I want it all now."

"Yes, Sir."

"And if any of them give you any trouble..."

"They won’t, Colonel. I’m the team liaison officer, remember. Finesse." With that, Ezra briskly marched to the elevator and disappeared.

"Nathan, we’re going to Texas. Let the authorities know we’re coming and arrange some accommodation."

"Sir." The medic snatched up the phone.

"Josiah, I need information on Vin’s condition. Amnesia brought on by Jungle Fever and Post Traumatic Stress. I need to know what that means and how he’s going to react when we catch up with him."

"Okay, but this isn’t my area of expertise. Give me an hour and it will be."

"You’ve got until J.D. locates Vin. J.D.?"

"I’ve just hacked into the rates department."

"Nathan?"

"Done."

E.M.6’s office was a hive of purposeful activity. Each man performing the duties assigned to him without question and with professional ease.

"Nathan, get together the things we’ll need for the trip."

"Are we expecting to come up against The Hawks, Sir?" the medic inquired as he moved toward the supply room.

"We might. Full combat gear."

"Weaponry?"

"Everything we’ve got." Nathan nodded and disappeared. "Buck?" Chris asked turning in time to catch...

"...I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if the Pope intends landin’ out there and then blessin’ the tarmac. Clear me some airspace because I’ll be flyin’ a fully armed combat plane out here in fifteen minutes whether there are planes above me or not!"

"Chris," J.D. called across the room. “Forty-two ranches that size."

"Pull their employment records."

"What name am I looking for?"

"Any &*%@ing name. Anyone who was hired in the last six weeks."

"Chris, we’re clear to take off in fifteen minutes."

"Well done, Captain."

The elevator doors opened and Ezra strode out looking unflustered. "Everything is in the ‘Texan’ file J.D. already has, Sir."

"What Texan file?"

Ezra maintained his leader’s hard gaze. "We cracked the code on the second file last night."

Chris’ eyes narrowed every so slightly.  Now he understood what had prompted Travis to share the information on Vin.  "You?"

"Threatened to shove my fist up his nose and my derringer up his ass."

A grin invaded Larabee’s worried face. "You’re learning, Ezra." The smile was replaced by a look of deep, sincere gratitude. He offered his hand.

Ezra eyed it and then accepted it with equal gratitude. "You are very welcome... mate." 

Chris Larabee’s chin bobbed, acknowledging the term.  “Yeah.”

The moment was shattered by Nathan as he lumbered up to the pair and dumped a bundle of duffel bags at their feet.

"Ezra, I could use a hand."

"Sergeant Jackson, I am reticent to remind you I do not, for any reason, perform menial..."

"Shut up and come on," Nathan snapped, grabbing the well-dressed con man by his bright red jacket and dragging him toward the supply room. "Besides, you need to change. We’re going in, in full combat fatigues."

"Over my dead body."

"Argue with Chris and that might well be the way it’ll happen."

"Colonel!" J.D. shouted, his high pitched and shocked voice stopping the rest of his companions in their tracks. "I think I’ve found him."

Five men stopped breathing.

"J.D.?" Buck choked out.

"Six weeks ago, the Tascosa Ranch hired a ‘Chris Larabee’."

**********

"Hey, Chris. Did you get that cougar?"

Vin turned and nodded. Chris? It sounded almost right. When he’d signed on to work here, the foreman had said..."What’s your name, son?" He couldn’t use the name the CIA had given him and he didn’t know his real name, so he’d answered with the first thing that came into his head - Chris Larabee. It sounded so familiar, so comfortable... no, so safe. Yet, the tracker knew it wasn’t who he was.

"I need you to join Mark and Alan at Peterson Bluff. We’ve got a few strays lost up there. They can’t find the damn things. Thought you might be able to track them."

Again Vin nodded.

"Why don’t you go and get yourself some breakfast before you head out... Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure? You look kinda... I don’t know, worried."

"Reckon I must be a bit tired, John."

"Well, if you keep riding in the middle of the night, what do you expect? Course it’s none of my business, just so long as you keep doin’ a decent day’s work."

Vin smirked and headed for the kitchen to grab a meal. He wished he understood what summoned him from his bed in the dead of night and sent him riding without purpose. All he knew was when he was doing it, it felt right and despite the fact he was entirely on his own, he didn’t feel alone.

"I must be damn crazy."