Dr. Yates, a five foot tall, portly gentlemen, arrived in a whirlwind… almost like an excited child.  Jungle Fever Coma Survivors were his passion and as there were only 17 in the world, the prospect of finding another was, according to him, like winning the Lotto.  He had sacked his secretary for not passing on Josiah’s message immediately, his wide brown eyes reflecting his deep emotion.

“Tell me everything,” he gleefully insisted of Nathan and Josiah who greeted him in the foyer.  “I must know every detail.”

His glee swiftly turned to rage when he discovered Harris was treating Vin.  “That idiot.  I’ve told him repeatedly that Jungle Fever Coma Survivors DO NOT suffer traditional Amnesia.  It is an entirely different condition.”

The doctor spent almost two hours examining and interviewing Vin and another two hours studying his brain patterns.

“Well?” Nathan demanded at the conclusion.  He, Josiah and the somewhat fastidious doctor were collected in the doctor’s lounge.

Yates was excitedly adding to his copious notes.  “Remarkable.  He is remarkable.” 

Josiah smirked. “Yeah, we know.”

“He is completely at ease despite being unable to access his memories.  Remarkable.”  Yates returned to scribbling.

“He’s okay then?” Nathan interrupted.

Yates’ paused and his expression became serious.  “It is early days.  Allow me to examine the data I have collected and I will compile a report for you.  During that time, you MUST keep him calm and try NOT to trigger any major recall. Allow his memories to return of their own accord.  If he follows the same pattern as other sufferers, as I suspect he will, the next two weeks his dreams will be littered with memories. That is the safest way for them to return.”

“So he’s going to be okay?” Nathan repeated, wanting a definitive answer even though he knew in medicine there rarely was one.

Yates pursed his lips.  “He isn’t out of danger.  He could suffer another…”

“… memory rush,” Josiah murmured.

Yates blinked and then burst into loud, rollicking laughter.  “Memory rush.  I love it.  Very creative naming for it.”

“Doctor,” Nathan snapped.  Yates’ jovial mood was getting to him, particularly as he had yet to guarantee Vin was fine.”

“I think what Nathan wants to know is if Vin will get through this unscathed?”

Yates sighed.  “That question, I can answer.  No, he isn’t going to get through this unscathed, as you put it.  Best case scenario, during the next months… probably next few years… while he is attempting to recall, re-label and comprehend the memories he has, he is going to need a great deal of support.  From what I’ve seen, that isn’t going to be an issue.  You men are very close and that probably saved his life when he suffered the sei… memory rush.”

“That’s the best case?” Nathan cried.  “What the hell is the worst case?”

“The very worst?”  Yates rubbed his chin.  “He will have another major memory rush, go into shock and die.”

Nathan’s eyes widened.  Yates patted his arm.  “Son, why don’t you wait for the report?  It will explain all of the maybes, what ifs and most likelys.  For now, as I have said, if he follows the same pattern as other Jungle Fever Coma Survivors, he will experience what I call the ‘calm’, when very few memories will be recalled.  The ‘calm’ lasts from 2 to 4 weeks, before he will enter the next phase.  You are a qualified doctor and Sanchez here is a qualified psychologist.  Between you, you will be able to support him through the ‘calm’.  After I send you my report, we will reconvene this meeting and discuss a future management programme.  How’s that?”

Nathan nodded.   “I’m sorry.  When it’s one of your own it is difficult to…”

“I understand completely.  What you need to understand is that while this isn’t going to go away over night, he has all of the right factors in place already and therefore the best possible chance of the best result.”

**********

"Hell, Nathan, stop fussin’!" Vin complained, once again attempting to sit up.

"I really think you should stay on the stretcher, Vin," the medic argued, physically restraining his patient.

The team had boarded their plane and were headed home. Ezra and Josiah were playing cards at the small table, Chris was seated alone and J.D. was reclining in one of the other seats snoozing. On Nathan’s insistence, Vin had been made to spend the first hour lying down, but the sharpshooter had soon got ‘Jack’ of that.

"Nathan, I spent three days in the hospital, I’m fine."

"One of those days you were practically in a coma."

"Coma, sleepin’, ain’t much difference. I’ve done enough restin’."

Nathan shook his head. He knew he was destined to lose this battle and so he decided to bring in the big guns. "Chris, will you tell this dang fool to lie down."

Larabee glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. "If he wants to get up, let him. When he collapses we’ll scoop him up and tie him to the damn stretcher."

"Thanks, partner," Vin grinned, pushing Nathan out of the way. He walked across to where his leader was seated and dropped down into the chair beside him.

Nathan Jackson was furious.

Vin was still weak but miraculously, didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from the trauma his body had suffered. Chris had spent most of the time filling his companion in on E.M. 6...E.M.7 - Em 7, from now on, only to be pronounced M7 unless you wanted to endure one of Josiah’s stories - so that the young man understood the team’s role.

Much to everyone’s relief, the process of regaining his memories hadn’t been as traumatic as Harris had led them to believe, though Yates warned it was still early days. Vin had fully regained his memory of his encounter with the Hawks and much of his life since joining the witness protection programme. His memories before the war were hazy but they were returning gradually.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Vin remembered very little of his experiences during the war. He remembered being there, he remembered his mates, but specific missions were gone and so was the face and name of the man who had double-crossed him.

While Larabee desperately wanted to know the identity of the bastard, he could not be happier Vin appeared spared the horrors of the war. However, Doctor Yates insisted that with time, bits and pieces of the conflict would return. Doctor Harris had disagreed… leading to a very loud and aggressive argument between the pair in the middle of the doctor’s lounge.  Harris felt Vin may never regain his memory of the war. The brain in all its intricacies may simply refuse to allow those painful memories to the surface and that suited Chris Larabee just fine. What the doctors had both made clear was that in the immediate few weeks, Vin needed to rest. His body, no matter what Vin thought, had been through the equivalent of major surgery. Rest was essential if he was to fully recover. Hence, Nathan’s unflappable determination.

"Alright, you can sit up for a while, and then back to the stretcher." Vin bounced his eyebrows. "I mean it, Vin!"

"You want part of the paper?" Chris asked.

"Thanks," Vin acknowledged taking the car section.

"Dammit, Chris, you aren’t helping," Nathan exploded.

"Relax, Nathan. He’s doing fine."

"Yeah, now he is because he’s been resting, but..." Both Vin and Chris had their faces in a section of the paper. "I give up!"

Ezra watched the episode unfold and remarked to Josiah, "I do not believe I have ever seen Chris so..."

"Relaxed?" the sergeant asked.

"I was going to say mellow and serene, but relaxed is also accurate. He’s sitting there reading the paper like he doesn’t have a care in the world."

Josiah sighed and glanced across at his friends. "He doesn’t. Not any more. Two minds, one soul. Each is incomplete without the other. Together they are a powerful force the likes of which you have never seen Ezra. Just wait until you see them in battle together. It’s amazing. They don’t talk but they know exactly what the other is thinking and doing."

"Lieutenant Tanner knows exactly how to push the colonel’s buttons too, doesn’t he?"

Josiah grinned. "That he does." Josiah was going to say more, when Buck appeared out of the cockpit and casually went to the fridge to get himself a can of Coke.

"Captain Wilmington, if you are here, who is flying this machine?" Ezra demanded, rising to his feet.

"It’s on auto pilot."

"Auto pilot!" Ezra’s face stripped of color.

"Yeah, relax."

"While I am at odds to agree with Colonel Larabee’s claim that you are one of the finest pilots on this planet, I..."

"You say that, Chris?" Buck asked.

"Yep," Larabee grunted, still lost in the sport’s section of the paper.

"That was real nice of ya, pard."

"Anytime," Chris muttered. "Hey, the Yankees got up last week. Who would have thought?"

"For Christ’s sake! Am I the only one who has the sense to be concerned by the fact this plane is flying without a pilot!"

"I’m going, Ezra, I’m going. Sheesh! I was just a little thirsty."

"Stop talking and return to the cockpit!"

"You always this uptight, Ezra?" Vin asked.

"Only when I am several thousand feet above the ground in a plane that is supposed to be piloted by a fool but instead is being piloted by thin air."

"I heard that!" Buck roared. Without a word, Vin buckled himself in. Chris, Josiah and Nathan did the same. Josiah reached across and buckled the sleeping J.D. in, in the process waking the youth.

"What?" J.D. asked yawning.

"You should sit down, Ezra. You’ve insulted Buck and now..." The plane began to nose dive and then went rocketing back up completing a 360.

"Any more complaints about my flying skills?" Buck shouted back.

"Yeah, Ezra just said his blind eighty year old grandmother who has Alzheimer’s could fly this bird better than you, Buck," J.D. giggled.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Once again the plane abruptly nose-dived.

"Captain Wilmington, I assure you I said no such thing." Ezra’s knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests with grim determination. He hated flying! "Agent Dunne is simply misrepresenting me and I feel..."

"Misrepresenting nothing!"

"Colonel Larabee, I understand you have informed General Travis we are all taking a fortnight vacation, but at the conclusion of our respite I feel it is essential you and I sit down and have a serious discussion pertaining not only to my role description but also Captain Wilmington’s obvious disregard for..." The plane nose-dived.

Chris glanced at Vin. "As you can see, Buck hasn’t changed."

"They broke the mould after they made Bucklin," Vin agreed. "The last time he was in this sort of a mood we ended up..." The sharpshooter’s voice faded.

Larabee reached for his friend’s shoulder. "Go on, Vin." Tanner sighed and shook his head. "We were on our way back from blowing up a stockpile of Kat Cong arms," Chris finished. "You remember that?" Larabee watched as Vin’s eyes glazed slightly. The memory of the incident was being recalled at that moment.

"I must have taken out a dozen scouts that day," Vin muttered.

"Yeah, you did. And you did it on my orders. It was war - you had no choice." Chris waited. He could see there was a lot more than the recollection of the memory taking place. Vin was trying to justify his actions. "My orders, Vin," Larabee repeated. It was going to be the justification and acceptance of his role as a sharpshooter during Katinda that was going to be the most difficult part for Vin to deal with as his memories of the war returned... and unfortunately, it appeared Vin was indeed going to reclaim those memories. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Vin glanced at his colonel and nodded. "I’m okay, Chris. It’s just gonna take a while for everything to fit back into place."

"I know, but remember you don’t have to do it on your own. That’s an order."

Vin smiled, picked up the paper and muttered something under his breath - his standard response to such a phrase.

"I heard you, you insubordinate sonofabitch."

Some time later, Vin noted the others were making preparations for landing. "That ain’t D.C. down there." Below, the sharpshooter could see wide open-country -- trees, grass, rocks, mountains, and not a house or road in sight.

"We’re in Virginia. I’ve arranged some leave for us. Nathan says you need to take it easy," Chris stated.

Vin grunted.

"Considering what we’ve been through, I think we could all use some R and R."

Vin stared out the window and spotted a runway. Several hundred feet from it was a large ranch house and several huge sheds. Chris walked across and looked over Vin’s shoulder.

"What is this place?" Vin asked.

"Our training facility."

"Huh?" Vin turned to look at his leader.

Chris inclined his head. "The first shed is the hanger. Buck has all manner of aircraft he’s working on in there. The second one is a shooting range and gym. Behind the second shed we’ve our own obstacle course."

"Hell on earth," Josiah muttered, overhearing the conversation.

"Hey, Ezra! I can land this thing on one wheel if you like?" Buck called from the cockpit.

"Please, don’t do me any favors, Captain Wilmington."

Chris winked at Vin. "Buck just put us down."

"Your wish is my command, boss man."

Ezra alighted from the plane first, Nathan half a pace behind him. Vin had certainly been the focus of the group’s attention but the medic was well aware of the fact Ezra’s body too had experienced considerable trauma. As Standish stepped down onto the ground, he got down onto his hands and knees and mimed kissing the earth.

"Oh, beautiful firm terra firma. I have missed you."

"Get the hell up, Ezra," Buck chuckled. "You’re holding us up."

"Captain Wilmington, now that you are unable to endanger our lives, I feel it is my duty to tell you that your incessant need to..."

"Blab, blab, blab," Buck laughed as he, J.D and Josiah stepped off the aircraft and headed for the ranch house. Chris and Vin brought up the rear. Tanner stopped as he stepped out of the plane and ran his eye over his surroundings. Outside of the ranch and two sheds, there was nothing but wide-open space that disappeared to the horizon on one side and met with a mountain range on the other.

Chris glanced at his friend and allowed a satisfied smile to present on his usually serious face. "Like it?"

"It’s beautiful," Vin murmured. There wasn’t a fence in sight. That was important to Vin.

"Yeah it is."

"You said this belongs to E.M.6?" Still his attention didn’t leave the expanse in front of him.

"That’s right."

"All of that too?" Vin asked, looking at the mountains off to their right.

"Yep."

Vin dragged his attention away from the wilderness that was calling him. "How many acres?"

Chris took a deep breath and cast his eyes over the land. "Enough that it takes two and a half days to cross it on horseback."

"What?"

Chris put down the bags he was carrying. "We call it Four Corners." Vin Tanner’s eyes glazed for a split second as memories replayed in his numbed mind. Four Corners. It was his dream - a dream he had shared only with Chris. Vin had always wanted a property large enough to feel like he was riding to all four corners of the globe without having to worry about the physical and non-physical fences created by man. He had even written a poem entitled ‘Four Corners’ - a poem Chris alone had read.

"We always said the five of us would pool our money and buy a ranch," Chris explained.

Vin stared at his friend then back at the beauty surrounding them. "But how did you afford something like this?"

Larabee smiled. "I was looking for a small place in Virginia for myself, somewhere I could get away from the bustle of D.C. I came across this but you’re right, it was beyond anything I could purchase. One night at the saloon - that’s the bar we drink at - I must have had a few and mentioned it. Next morning I found the deed to the place on my desk. The deed had on it, E.M.6 Training Facility."

"Travis?" Vin asked.

"No."

Vin’s eyes narrowed. "Ezra."

"He’s never admitted it, but yeah, it was Ezra."

"Where did he get the money to pay for a place like this?"

"Ezra worked for an organization called ‘SeCReTs’. They traded in information. On Ezra’s last mission, ‘SeCReTs’, the government and the third party involved made a holy hell of a mess of things. Ezra was left holding the bag. The money had already changed hands and so to protect it he electronically transferred it to a Swiss bank account for safekeeping. But the mess got bigger and politically sensitive and Ezra ended up the scapegoat. He was charged with murder and treason and probably would have taken the rap for it, except that General Travis stepped in and assigned him to us."

"And the money?"

Larabee smiled and shook his head.

"How much?"

"I’ve heard several amounts mentioned. The bottom figure is one hundred and fifty-six million. Could be as high as 526 million. Ezra claims no knowledge of the money and refuses to admit he paid for this."

Vin took a deep breath as he gazed at something that was all that he had dreamt about in Katinda.

"I come out here every weekend. Stay at the flat in D.C. during the week. One or two of the boys usually pop in too. It’s only a two hour car trip from D.C - forty-five minutes by chopper. We have a housekeeper who comes out one day a week. Nettie and her niece usually drive up on Friday and spend the day cleaning. Nettie often does some cooking and leaves it for me. Pete Macallister, who owns the property next to us, keeps an eye on the place and feeds the animals." Larabee paused. He wasn’t sure if Vin was even listening. The sharpshooter appeared lost in thought. Chris stepped up beside his friend. Silence filled the air and echoed around them for several minutes.

Finally Vin sighed and turned to glance at Chris. "Four Corners. The boys know why you chose that?"

Larabee shook his head. That was something private between the two of them. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Vin followed Chris toward the two sheds. Nestled between them was a livery. The horses heard their approach and began to whinny. As the men stepped inside, Chris turned and studied Vin’s face. Slowly the sharpshooter made his way across to the closest of the stabled animals.

"The big gray is Buck’s."

"He’s beautiful."

Larabee inclined his head and walked toward the middle of the stable, stopping in front of a majestic black with a prominent white blaze. "What do you think?"

"That’s a good looking piece of horse flesh."

"He’s feisty. Hard to hold. Got a mind of his own. He’s a free spirit... and he’s yours."

"What?" Vin turned to look at his friend. "Chris I can’t accept..."

"I picked him for you." Chris had taken one look at the animal - at the way it acted and the horse had reminded him of Vin. Feisty. Hard to hold. Got of mind of his own. A free spirit. "Mine’s the black over there. The boys each have their own, but he’s always been yours." The two men stared at each other.

You knew that somehow...

I knew that if there was a God, you would one day ride that horse. Vin’s emotions threatened to consume him. He swallowed and consciously tried not to think about what Chris had just said... what he knew Chris meant.

"What’s his name?"

Larabee grinned. "Well, at the moment, I guess it must be, ‘You Bastard’, because every time I exercise him he tries to throw me. Reckon ‘You Bastard’ is the only thing I’ve ever called him."

Vin laughed. "You always had a way with words, Larabee." The sharpshooter entered the stall and walked directly up to the animal.

"Careful, Vin. Like I said he’s feisty. He’s..."

"He’s magnificent." Larabee watched as Vin stroked the animal. Vin had a way with animals - for some reason they just seemed to trust him.

"Want to go for a ride... I mean are you feeling up to it?"

"Hell, yes!"

"Nathan said..."

"Nathan worries too much," Vin insisted.

Chris assessed his friend condition briefly but he could sense the longing. In Katinda, this was something the two of them had wanted more than anything else. "Alright, but I want to know the moment you feel..."

"Stop motherin’ me, Chris. I’m okay. I’ll let you know if I need to rest." Chris paused a moment longer. "Please, Chris. I..." the young man couldn’t go on. He wanted this so badly - to ride side by side with his best friend… just as he had been doing every night for the past six weeks.

"You saddle the horses and I’ll tell the boys we’re going to..."

"...ride to the four corners of the globe without crossing the arbitrary cages of man. Barbed wire that sections creation into mine and yours when it belongs to neither of us. This land was here before we were born and will be here long after the sun has whitened our bones. So eliminate the fences. Climb...

"...climb aboard the back of a faithful steed and ride to the four corners of the globe - just you, my brother, and me," Chris finished. Again their eyes locked together. There was so much each wanted to say, but knew they didn’t need to. They shared a ‘knowing’ - they knew exactly what the other was feeling. "I’ll go tell the others," Chris whispered.

**********

The boys collected on the veranda with ice cold beers and watched Chris and Vin ride out.

Josiah sighed deeply, watching the recently reunited men thunder out of the livery side by side. "There are times when my faith wearies. Times when I begin to question. But that gentlemen, is proof that there is a God."

"Amen," Buck agreed.

"I just hope Vin doesn’t do too much. He’s already..."

"Nathan, if he falls off that horse, rest assured he’ll be happy.

"Probably scare the shit out of Chris, though," Buck laughed.

"Chris is almost a different person," J.D. reflected.

The mirth left Buck’s face. "There was a time when Chris was a different person. If you had seen him before..." Buck swallowed. ‘...before the fire.’ "Hell, before he met Sarah, Chris was a wild one."

"I can’t even picture him like that."

"His nickname was Bareback Larabee."

Ezra’s eyes enlarged. "Bareback? Oh please, Captain Wilmington, you must share the origin of this diminutive." Standish was wrapped in a blanket, courtesy of Nathan and stretched out on a layback chair on the wide veranda that surrounded the entire two storey ranch house.

"Before Chris met Sarah, he was going around with a gal called Ella... and she really was a gal, if you get my meaning." Buck raised his eyes suggestively as he settled on the top step of the porch beside Josiah. "According to Ella, one day she and Chris went riding. Apparently, Chris was only wearing his hat, his boots and his birthday suit." Buck began laughing. "To Bareback Larabee," the captain proposed raising his can."

"Long may he ride," Ezra chuckled joining the toast.

"Hey, Buck, what sort of nickname do you think I should have, Lightning J.D. Dunne on account of how fast on the draw I am?"

"Peach fuzz," Buck chuckled, eyeing the stubble that had formed on J.D.’s chin.

"If forced, I would consider Handsome Ezra."

"Windbag Ezra, more likely," Buck laughed.

"Mr. Dunne, I do believe it is our duty to assign an appropriate sobriquet for the dear captain."

"A what?" J.D. asked.

"A nickname," Josiah translated.

"Ohhhh. How about No-Taste-In-Hats Wilmington." Both Josiah and Nathan burst out laughing.

"Oh, that’s funny, J.D. Real funny."

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Psychopathic Wilmington. Or Madman, Maniac, Deranged, Demented, Abnormal, Psychotic, Neurasthenic, Neurotic, Paraphrenic, Schizophrenic, Schizoid, Idiotic, Moronic, Cretinous, Feeble-minded, Pixilated, Peculiar or Unhinged Wilmington."

"Yep," J.D. agreed seriously. "I think you should pick one of them, Buck. Suits you to a T."

**********