Refuge

  Author's notes: No, this isn't 'Charming the Hawk'. Why, you ask? Well, that delves deep into the nature of plot bunnies. You see, I have quite a line up of plot bunnies at any given moment. Most bunnies are polite, willing to hop about patiently until it's their turn. Sometimes they mix with others while they wait to form a bigger bunny(Charming the Hawk is such a bunny). Sometimes they mutate, like the Before Dawn bunnies.

  And sometimes, along comes a vicious one that just refuses to wait its turn. Instead, it jumps up, hits you with those big back feet and tackles you to the ground. 'Neutral Party' was such a bunny, as was 'The Haunting of Christmas Past'. However, neither was as wild nor as big as the mutated 'Refuge' bunny. Perhaps due to the cross with The Magnificent Seven, this one acted more like a big, rugged Western jack rabbit than one of those polite, little Eastern bunnies. I couldn't dodge it!

  For those of you who are unfamiliar with Mag 7, it was a recent TV series based on the western movie by the same name (which in turn was based on a Japanese movie called 'The Seven Samurai'). The premise is that seven dissimilar men join together to protect a western frontier town in the late 1800s. It has gained an internet fandom similar to TS in size, enthusiasm, and fanfic.

  The series, currently being rerun on TNN, caught my attention due to the fantastic, complex characters and the actors who play them. The group is led by Chris Larabee(played by Michael Biehn, from movies The Terminator, The Abyss, Navy Seals), a gunfighter struggling with the loss of his family; Buck Wilmington is the ladies man, delightfully played by Dale Midkiff (of Time Trax fame); Vin Tanner is the sharpshooter and former bounty hunter played by Eric Close (Dark Skies, Now and Again); Ezra Standish is the gambler and con man played by Anthony Starke; Josiah Sanchez is the missionary son and reluctant preacher played by Ron Perlman (The Beast in Beauty and the Beast); Nathan Jackson is a former slave and self-taught healer from his work during the Civil War (played by Ricky Worthy); and JD Dunne is the kid fresh from Boston who loves dimestore novels (played by Andrew Kavovit).

  Along with the rest of the vast Mag 7 fanfiction land, there is a group who is writing a delightful AU fanfic with a twist: they have moved the Seven forward in time and placed them in present day Denver. Chris Larabee is now the leader of a hotshot ATF unit instead of a gunfighter, and the rest of the guys are his team (for instance, Ezra is now an undercover expert with a shady past instead of a con man). Yet they all maintain the same independent natures and complex backgrounds as they did in the original series. With the Seven in the year 2000, I can mix them with my favorite TS guys and thus the vicious plot bunny. Since I had planned to write a story as a thank you to the wonderful gals who have created the Magnificent Seven:ATF AU(where I sneak off to when the BPP's virtual season becomes overwhelming), this story serves that purpose. And perhaps is partly responsible for the title *chuckle*

  By the way, I have referenced a few characters and situations from Black Panther Productions Cascade Virutal Tales. In my mind, the BPP Fifth Season is part of the Sentinel universe. Probably because I've been up to my eyeballs in it for so long!

  I wish to extend many thanks. First, thanks to Mog for creating the Mag 7:ATF universe , to Cassie for pointing me to it, and to all the other writers who have run with it. Also thanks to Shallan for help with the military aspects and for lending me detective Franchs, to Sealie, Zadra, and Malu for betaing, and to Wolfpup for posting.

  Please send any comments to spacecloud@juno.com

  Enjoy the ride.

  Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food.

  Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.

  Rated PG-13, mostly for language.

  REFUGE

  C.L. Combs

  Along a rural highway in Washington State

  ATF agent Vin Tanner fought to keep from shivering as he stared at the phone booth behind the gas station. He was in desperate need of help, but he didn't know whom to call. The results had been lacking the last two times he had tried to call Orrin Travis. Not only had he not spoken directly to the tough federal judge, but the hounds were immediately back on his heels. The agent tucked his left arm tighter against his chest, his biceps throbbing from his last encounter with the men who were trying to kill him. Even cold, exhausted, and struggling against a pounding headache, Vin realized there had to be a connection. He didn't dare try the judge again until he was sure he could defend himself.

  For an instant, his guard dropped and he thought of Chris, his leader and friend. Vin viciously shoved that thought away. He couldn't afford to think of his teammates now, knowing he could easily lose himself in the huge hole of grief gaping before him. In honor of their memories, Vin had to stay alive until he could figure out what had happened and bring them justice.

  Yet the young man was nearing the end of his strength, and he knew it. He glanced up at the sign just off the highway. It declared, 'Luciville, Washington. Pop. 50'. Who on earth would he know in Luciville? Hell, who did he know in Washington State?

  "Maybe you should contact him." The remembered voice took Vin back to two weeks earlier.

  Two weeks earlier, Coeur D'Alene, ID

  Vin stretched his lithe frame as he walked out of a bedroom in a small hotel suite. The sleep had been sorely needed after several hours clinging to a tree doing surveillance on his team's latest assignment. Now he just needed some food and he'd be set to go again. Of course, what he really wished was for it to be over and they could go back home. Coeur D'Alene, Idaho was far from Denver, Colorado, the team's normal base of operations. Vin missed his own bed. Yet the powers that be decided they needed the best on this case, and Vin's team hadn't earned their 'Magnificent Seven' nickname for nothing.

  Running a hand through his long, curly light brown hair, he surveyed the room. Out of his six teammates, only the youngest was in the small sitting area. JD Dunne, a slim man in his early twenties, was perched on the couch reading a magazine. He needed to unwind from several hours of pretending to be a forest ranger cleaning bathrooms. Considering how rarely the apartment the young man shared with fellow agent Buck Wilmington was ever cleaned, Vin figured the kid was going nuts with the assignment.

  After ordering room service, Vin sprawled out in the chair next to JD. "What ya reading?"

  "Law and Order," JD replied, naming a popular journal that reported on various law enforcement activities throughout the country. He had a stack of old issues that someone had given his roommate.

  "Didn't get enough excitement cleaning outhouses today?" Vin teased.

  JD rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding? I don't think those things have been cleaned in months! I can't believe Chris is making me do it."

  "Well, maybe you should remember that next time you attach a noisemaker to his chair." The corner of Vin's mouth twitched as he remembered their esteemed leader bolting out of his seat as it squawked like an outraged goose. The whole team had started to laugh, but soon quit when they were treated to one of Chris Larabee's hard stares.

  "But I didn't do it!" JD protested again. He absently brushed back his dark brown bangs out of his eyes as he sat up. "Man, it's so unfair. I bet Cops of the Year, like Rich Hunley or James Ellison, never get accused of something they didn't do."

  Vin suddenly shot upright. "Who?"

  "Guys who made Policeman of the Year in different cities a couple years ago. Boy, I bet you have to..."

  "No, repeat that last name," Vin urged.

  JD blinked. "Rich Hunley?"


  "No, the other one."

  "James Ellison?"

  Vin thought that was what he'd said. "Do you still have that article?"

  Puzzled, JD flipped back a couple of pages and handed over the magazine. "Why?"

  Vin ignored him a minute as he slowly read the name and the accompanying announcement. "Man, it has to be him."

  "Who?"

  A slow smile stretched across Vin's face as memories flowed over him. "Someone I knew in the Army."

  JD's eyes narrowed. "As in, 'If-I-tell-you-I-have-to-kill-you' Army?"

  "Yep."

  The younger man didn't press for more details, having met that brick wall before. "Are you sure it's him?"

  "I think he grew up in Cascade, WA, and that's where this James Ellison got his award. The age is about right, too. It's got to be the Captain."

  "Have you seen him since you got out?" JD asked. Vin so rarely talked about his past, JD was eager to soak up any tidbit the sharpshooter was willing to part with.

  "No. We were put on different assignments there towards the end, and he wasn't around when I decided not to re-enlist." Vin didn't mention that Ellison and his entire team being MIA in Peru had been a part of that decision. "I haven't seen him since."

  "Maybe you should contact him," JD suggested.

  Vin shrugged his shoulders. "That was a long time ago. I doubt he'd even remember a skinny little private like me."

  JD was about to argue when the door opened. In came Vin's order, along with Ezra Standish and Buck Wilmington. JD's tall roommate rubbed his hands together as he checked out the food. "I hope you ordered enough for all of us."

  "I dare say that would be a near impossibility," Ezra's southern drawl declared, green eyes twinkling, "Considering the amount of food the three of you consume."

  The topic of James Ellison was dropped as Vin protected his meal from his teammates.

  The present

  "Maybe you should contact him."

  The memory of JD's voice was like a good omen, urging him to call his former officer. Heaven knows Vin Tanner could use a good omen. Forcing his wobbly legs to walk, he limped to the booth. After a few minutes of sorting through Information, Vin waited to connect with Jim Ellison, praying his one-time mentor was the miracle he desperately needed.

  Major Crimes, Cascade, WA

  ~brring~

  The ring barely penetrated the concentration of the tall, muscular man sitting at the desk. Absently, Detective Jim Ellison picked up his phone as his eyes continued to read through his report. "Ellison."

  "C-Cap'n?"

  The shaky voice instantly drew the sentinel's attention, stirring a faint memory just outside of his grasp. "This is Detective James Ellison."

  "W-were you Captain Ellison of the Ranger's First Battalion?"

  "Yes." Jim frowned, trying to place the soft drawl. "Who is this?" Sitting at a nearby desk, Jim's partner Blair Sandburg looked up from his own paperwork.

  Jim could hear the pain and desperation, teeth trying not to chatter. "I-I don't know if y-you remember me, Cap'n."

  Finally, the voice, the drawl, the shyness, and the deep respect raised the faint memory. Jim could almost picture the skinny kid in his late teens whose aim with a rifle rivaled his own. "Vin Tanner? Is that you?"

  Jim could barely hear the faint chuckle. "Yeah." A soft cough interrupted for a moment. "Sir, I need help, and I don't know who to turn to."

  Picking up on the dazed quality to the voice, Jim's frown deepened. The Tanner he remembered was pretty damn independent. If the kid was calling for help, he had to be at the end of his rope. "What's wrong, Slick?"

  Another long pause. "I'm with ATF now. A couple days ago, my team," Jim's blood pressure rose as the voice cracked. "My team was killed. Now they're trying to kill me, and I don't know what's going on. Except... except I thought I saw Rat Tail just before it all wigged out."

  Ah hell. "Okay, Tanner, where are you now?"

  "Off 20. The, the sign says Luciville."

  "Okay," Jim closed his eyes a moment as he visualized that section of state highway. Then he scribbled a note and handed it to his partner. Blair immediately reached for his own phone. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

  "Yeah."

  The vague non-answer and the hazy tone indicated to Jim that Tanner probably was hurt. That the kid was also cold was evident from the chattering teeth. "Are the men after you close by?"

  "Lost 'em couple hours ago."

  Remembering the smart, street-wise kid who could disappear just as easily in the forest as he could in the middle of a foreign city, Jim could believe it. However, that didn't mean they wouldn't find him again along the highway. "Okay, Slick, about five miles west on 20 from Luciville is another exit. Do you think you can make it there?"

  "Yeah. I've got my motorcycle."

  Jim glanced up to see his partner give him a thumbs-up. "Okay, there's a inn called The Redwoods. I want you to find it. I've told them that my brother, Vince Ellison, has run into problems and they're holding a room for you."

  "I don't have enough money."

  "That's okay, they've got my credit card number. I want you to check in and warm up. I'll be there in about an hour. Can you hold out that long?"

  "Yeah." There was another pause as a cough barked in the background. "Thanks."

  "No problem. Just get there and stay safe."

  Blair hadn't asked if he could go. Considering Jim had been abducted the last time he had gotten an unexpected call from an army buddy, Blair didn't intend to lose sight of him. Besides, it sounded like this friend of Jim's was in a whole lot of trouble, so Jim would probably need backup. Now that he was a full-fledged member of the police force, Jim couldn't tell him to stay in the truck anymore. Even more importantly, Blair was his guide. The sentinel would need him if the rescue required the use of his heightened senses. Thankfully, Jim was too focused on his friend's plight to order Blair to stay in Cascade. Blair could read his partner's worry in his clenched jaw.

  By the time they hit the highway, Jim had repeated the phone call to him. Suspecting he was stepping onto Jim's covert ops past, Blair asked cautiously, "Who's Rat Tail?"

  Jim sighed, then glanced over. "Michael Rattall. A former Army soldier who was caught selling explosives off base. No morals whatsoever."

  Blair grinned. "Let me guess. You were the one who got suspicious and blew the whistle?"

  Jim shook his head with a smile. "Part right. Tanner was the one who noticed something suspicious and called me just before Rat Tail caught up with him." Jim chuckled. "Skinny, teenaged Vin gave the bastard one beauty of a black eye, in spite of the fact that Rat Tail had about fifty pounds and six inches on him. Thankfully, the MPs and I arrived before it could get any more serious."

  "So Vin was a teenager when you knew him?"

  "Yeah. He joined the army right out of high school. Considering the kid had been living on the streets for most of his teen years, the military looked pretty good. He'd be about your age now."

  "The streets?" Blair blinked. "How'd he manage school?"

  Jim chuckled. "Apparently, he gave them a fake address. His grades were just good enough to pass and get into the military. He's a sharp kid, but reading was tough for him."

  "So how do you know him?"

  Blair could tell Jim was picking his words carefully. "Let's just say I handled some of his training."

  Okay, covert ops stuff. Time to shift topics. "Have you seen him since getting out of the Army?"

  Jim shook his head. "He was already out when I got back from Peru. And I wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind to look up old buddies."

  Blair nodded, easily understanding that. "How bad do you think Vin's hurt?"

  "Don't know. I could hear his teeth chatter, so I know he's cold. Definitely dazed. He's exhausted, because his Texas accent was noticeable. Normally, it's pretty faint."

  "Twang or lilt?" Blair joked, recalling a long ago discussion they'd had during a case about Texas acc
ents.

  "More of a drawl, actually," Jim replied with a smile.

  "So Vin's from Texas?" Blair pried.

  "Born there. Orphaned at an early age, though. He got tossed about in some pretty bad foster homes before ending up on the streets of Denver."

  Blair glanced out the window, again thankful that he'd had Naomi and her large, extended family. While his mother could be flighty at times, she had always been there for him. Blair didn't want to think what his life would have been like without her.

  Forty minutes later, they pulled up to the Inn. Jim parked and they swiftly dashed into the office. Within moments, they were at Vin's room. When there was no answer to Jim's knock, he quietly opened the door with the key. Inside, sprawled face down on the bed with his feet hanging off the end, was Vin Tanner.

  Studying him, Jim's first thought was that the skinny teenager he'd known had filled out into a strong, wiry man. Kneeling beside the bed, Jim noted the long, still wet hair trailing down the damp flannel shirt, the dark circles under his eyes, and the two-day's worth of beard on his face. The sentinel registered the deep breathing of an exhausted sleeper, a slight rattle developing in his lungs. Slight shivers still trembled through the body, in spite of the room's warmth. The kid looked like he had been through hell. Gently, Jim touched the back of Vin's head, feeling the stitches there. Damn, Slick, when did this happen? Worried about concussion, Jim rubbed Vin's shoulder. "Vin? I need you to wake up."

  "Chrriss," a muffled voice slurred.

  "Sorry, Slick. It's Jim."

  Meanwhile, Blair had closed the door and picked up the soaking wet mass on the floor that turned out to be a leather jacket. Along the left sleeve were two holes, blood darkening the lining underneath. "Jim," Blair softly called out, displaying the holes for his partner to see.

  "Damn." Carefully, Jim shifted the slowly awakening body to find the injury, then glanced across the room at his partner. Blair nodded and left for the truck. A blood-soaked handkerchief was tied around the younger man's arm. Gingerly, Jim removed it. With a soft gasp, Vin woke up and tried to pull away. "Easy, Slick."