Chris gazed at the old man in the mirror. Who the hell was that?

The face that stared back at him was wrinkled - lined with experience, horrors and victories too numerous to recollect. His hair was thinner than he’d realized and the blond it had once been was now replaced by dull grey. His eyes were no longer the bright green of his youth. His naked chest lacked muscle definition, the blue towel draped around his shoulders revealing his prominent collar bone.

Chris grimaced. Parts of him that used to ripple now wobbled.

Where had the years gone?

Chris sighed long and deep, then left the bathroom using the towel to dry his hair. In the mornings, his movements were a little stiff. Then again, according to his doctor, he was still quite active for ‘a man of your years.’ Hell he hated being referred to as ‘a man of your years.’ At what point had statements started being prefaced by such qualifying phrases?

Chris snorted. His attention was drawn to the framed photographs on the dresser. He paused, tossed the towel onto the bed, picked up the nearest frame and rubbed his thumb over the faded images.

Sarah -- his first wife. Chris’ heart ached just a little. After all of these years, it still hurt for he still missed her. He’d loved her so completely. Memories of that time in his life fired up in his mind, but faded quickly. Sarah was now a warm feeling he had each night when he went to bed and every morning when he passed the dresser and saw her photo.

Chris smiled at the image and emotions danced in his heart. Sarah had been his perfect match in every way. She’d had a fiery temper that matched his, but hers had been coupled with the rare quality of forgiveness without a hint of rancor. That was something Chris had never quite gotten the hang of. Every moment he had spent with Sarah had been his Eden. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but now, looking back, that was what it had been… back in a time when things still rippled. Before the wobble factor.

Chris’ attention shifted to the child standing next to Sarah. Adam would have been forty-nine this year. Forty-nine. Again, Chris’ face twisted. That was ridiculous. That was twenty years older than he’d been when the child had been born.

Chris exhaled noisily. He felt old. Today he was becoming an octogenarian. It seemed like only yesterday when the boys had thrown him a huge party for his fiftieth birthday.

Chris replaced the frame and let his eyes settle on the photo of his second, and current, wife. His brow furrowed. He didn’t have the same feelings for Holly as he’d had for Sarah. The truth of the matter -- he’d married Holly for companionship. Chris frowned. Companionship wasn’t a dirty word was it? So why did he feel guilty? He knew she adored him and he… he was very fond of her.

Holly was a gentle soul who had bore him four children. An image of each skipped through his mind… images of the family when they were young -- before the wobble factor had set in. Now, Vin, Caitlin, Stacey and Taylor were all grown with their own families. Family get-togethers were very noisy and chaotic affairs with his grandkids and several great grandchildren running around under foot. He couldn’t keep up any more – just another reminder of ‘the wobble factor’.

All of his grandchildren had visited on Sunday to celebrate his birthday – all twenty-six of them. It was true that only seven were genetically related, but they were all his, and woe-betide anyone who said different.

Chris wandered to his cupboard and selected a shirt, slowly threading his arms into it. He buttoned it and then headed out into the hall and stopped in front of the first of a series of photos lining the wall.

Chris exhaled slowly. The image showed the S.T.F.1 when they had served in Katinda… a lifetime ago. Buck, Josiah, Nathan and Vin looked so young. Hell, Vin had been a kid, barely twenty-one. They were smiling at the camera. Chris didn’t remember the occasion, but by the look on Buck’s face, there had been women present. Back then, Chris never thought about the future… about getting old.

Eighty years old.

Chris moved along to the next photo. He remembered the occasion. That evening, his team, Em7, had received a medal for courage for rescuing the President, and the Prime Minster’s of New Zealand and Australia. That had involved a hell of a mission in the jungles of South America. Chris’ brow furrowed. It had been the first time J.D. and Ezra had fought under heavy fire behind enemy lines… the first time Vin had returned to the jungle since regaining his memory.

Vin. Chris shook his head. Vin had gone through hell after the war. It had taken years for his memories to return – each one causing an electrical discharge in his brain… a subdural ‘thingamee’. They’d dubbed it a memory rush. As a result, Vin had developed epilepsy. Nathan had been able to control the condition with medication, but it had always been a constant worry for Chris in their Em7 days.

Chris studied the picture. His team truly had been a force to be reckoned with.

His team?

No, not his team. They had been so much more than simply brothers in arms… were so much more.

The day Josiah had retired on Nathan’s advice… Chris smirked… on Nathan’s orders… at the ripe old age of fifty-six, Em7 had disbanded. None could see any way for the group to continue without Josiah and so each member had ‘hung up his spurs’-- even J.D. Dunne had considered moving into another team, for he was still only in his forties, but the considered point only lasted a fleeting moment. Working with others… trusting others with his life… were things too foreign for him to get his mind around. Besides, Chris hadn’t liked it. That had been enough for J.D.

The years since their retirement had flown so quickly. Josiah was now in his eighties. Even J.D. was old. The youngest member of Chris’ former team had gone grey before losing his hair during bouts of Chemotherapy. Thankfully, a bone marrow transplant had saved his life and for sixteen years… sixteen years, eight months and two weeks… J.D. had been Leukemia free.

The family had had its fair share of tragedies over the years. Vin’s wife had died of a heart attack only three years passed. Vin had reacted stoically. It had taken Chris a long time to get his friend to open up. When he finally did, almost six months later, Vin had broken down. The boys had been full of suggestions to assist Vin with his grief… in the end, Chris had simply held him.

Buck’s long time partner had died suddenly of an aneurism almost two decades earlier. However, the worst incident had been when Ezra’s second daughter had been killed in a car accident. It had almost destroyed Ezra. Chris understood the pain of losing a child and had been able to assist Ezra to understand his loss.

Their collective grief and the difficulties the seven of them had faced had, if anything, made them stronger and closer. Chris wasn’t too proud to admit that he loved each of his former colleagues like brothers and that their families had become part of his own.

Movement at the end of the hall drew his gaze. His wife was moving around in the family room. He watched her and a contented smile creased his lips. He did love her… loved her with all his heart. Perhaps not in the same passionate and intense way he’d loved Sarah, but he still loved Holly dearly. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t think of life without her.

Chris took one last look at the photo of the men he was privileged to call brothers and then strolled down the hall in search of his wife.

She glanced up as he entered. “Card table’s ready.”

“Card table? Are the boys coming over?” It was the same routine every week. He made out he didn’t know and she rolled her eyes, walked across to him and kissed his cheek. The boys visited every Monday. On Tuesdays they went to Vin’s. On Wednesdays, Buck’s and so on. Chris saw them every day for a few hours to play cards or billiards or watch cowboy movies. Mostly they reminisced and basically caused their wives no end of problems.

Eighty years old. Chris sighed again. He felt very old today.

An explosion of voices sent Chris wandering to the window where he watched the boys coming up the narrow path lined with daffodils. Buck and Ezra were arguing. J.D. was speaking at a million miles an hour. Nathan was assisting Josiah and Vin was trailing behind the others -- keeping an eye on them. Old habits died hard. Vin always took point or rear guard.

Chris’ chest heaved. Josiah now walked with a cane, his hair brilliant silver – the wobble factor. His parables had become longer and less comprehensible, but his mind was as nimble as ever. Nathan, too, was snowy topped and despite his healthy eating patterns, he had expanded around the middle – the wobble factor. The rest of him had remained trim and so he had an almost unbalanced appearance which provoked no end of good natured teasing.

Too much good living had expanded Buck to portly. Age, however, hadn’t dimmed his animal magnetism. In Ezra’s words, “Buck is not only getting his share, he’s getting everyone else’s as well.”

J.D. was a bald as a badger and Ezra was still limping following his hip replacement a few months earlier. Of course, Ezra insisted that this would pass and totally refuted any claims that he’d aged. “I have simply become more distinguished and that thin area at the top of my head is where the pillow rubs.” Chris knew it was the wobble factor.

Vin had got leaner. It worried Nathan, but Vin was as healthy as ever. Chris and his best friend still went riding and fishing once a week. He and Vin did a great deal together these days… more time to do it.

Last year, the seven, their partners, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren had gone on a nine month world cruise. Money wasn’t, and never had been, an issue for the family. Ezra hadn’t divulged how much he had, but there was always an unlimited supply of cash and that cash was available to all members of the Em7 clan. Not that they needed a lot.

Ezra had built this private retirement village on Four Corners for them. Each of the boys had his own small cottage linked to all of the others by covered walkways. Far enough away for privacy but close enough to ensure none were lonely.

Two nurses, a cook and a doctor were employed to look after the men and their partners. A golf course, swimming pool, tennis courts and a dozen other luxuries were at their disposal. It was a private paradise.

Chris studied the group as they approached.

Grey.

Old.

He frowned. The wobble factor was slowly consuming his friends as well. There had been a time when others had referred to them as ‘The Magnificent Seven.’… and so they had been. But now…

The boys rumbled into the house in an explosion of voices. Vin strolled up to Chris and their arms came together just as they had so many times over the years. His hair, still shoulder length, but grey, floated out behind him in the breeze of the fan as he whispered, “Happy Birthday, Cowboy.”

“Thanks.”

Blue eyes looked directly into Chris’ soul. Vin smirked. Can’t believe you made it to eighty, you cantankerous cuss.

Chris shoved him good naturedly. Their bond was as strong as ever. Vin chuckled and Chris placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Vin’s brow furrowed. “For what?”

Chris sighed and drew Vin into a hug. “For everything, cowboy.” Vin had been his rock over the years, and he, Vin’s. The others, too, had always been there for him – especially Buck -- but as they’d gotten older, it had been his friendship with Vin that had made each day worthwhile. Vin had stopped him from going out of his mind with boredom. The two of them needed to do very little in each other’s company to be content. A morning spent fishing - catching nothing. An evening spent listening to Vin murder his harmonica. An afternoon in the sun whittling. Brushing down the horses after a ride. Target practice at some old beer bottles. A foot race to the end of the path. Sneaking whiskey behind their wives’ backs. Tossing away the medication Nathan insisted they take when no one else was looking. “Thank you for every moment.”

“Hey, old man. Where’s the beer?” Buck demanded of Chris.

Chris and Vin stepped apart. “I will shoot you, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t they revoke gun licenses when you turn eighty?” Buck laughed loudly. “Can’t wait to see them come and try and take your gun, Stud.”

“Shall I deal?” Ezra asked, producing a deck of cards as the boys sat around the card table.

J.D. put his glasses on. “You always deal first.”

“So why should we change a winning formula?”

“Winning for who?” Nathan demanded.

“Whom,” Ezra corrected.

“He cheats.”

“Captain Wilmington, you have been trying to prove that for many decades.”

“Which only proves that you cheat well,” Nathan laughed.

“I take umbrage at that scurrilous accusation. I do not cheat well. Masterfully, perhaps. Exceptionally. Oustan…”

“Oh, shut-up, Ezra.”

“Holly, have you baked any of those delicious biscuits? I’m hungry.” J.D. called.

“You’re always hungry, J.D.”

“The kid has hollow legs,” Josiah chuckled.

Chris smiled. ‘The Kid.’ J.D. was in his sixties and still they referred to him as ‘the kid’.

“Chris?” Vin asked, eyeing his friend.

Larabee collected himself and nodded to Ezra. “Deal, Standish.”

“Yes, Sir, Colonel.”

“I hear you got a call from the brass askin’ for some more advice on how to run things,” Vin commented. There was a certain amount of pride in his voice.

Chris snorted. “They’ve invited me to lead another seminar on ‘team-work’ at the A.N.T.S next month. It’s ridiculous. Hell, I’m eighty.”

Eighty.

Old.

Redundant.

Vin chuckled. “You agreed to this non-paying consultancy thing we’ve been doing for the last thirty years.”

“Ask not what your country can do for you and all that,” J.D. laughed. “I’ve been asked, too.”

“They invited all of us, again,” Chris clarified, glancing at Vin. “They want you to work with some of the elite sharpshooters.”

Vin pursed his lips. “We keep tell ’m we’re retired.”

“Men like us don’t retire,” Ezra corrected. He flicked his gaze around the group and smiled as he shuffled the cards with the flair of a carnival performer. “All modesty aside, we still have a great deal to contribute. If I’d had my way, we wouldn’t have been giving our advice away freely all these years, but rather sold it for a decent price. Our experience is worth more than any of the modern ideas and those with any common sense are well aware of that. You look skeptical, Colonel. Isn’t it true that our services have been requested at the highest level, in some capacity or other, a dozen times every year since our happy team disbanded some thirty years ago? Isn’t it true that we have personally trained the next two generations of elite forces using our own methods? No, gentlemen, men like us never truly retire, nor should we be allowed to. After all, we were the best of the best. The world has never seen our like before, and I dare say, they never will again,” Ezra finished.

“I’m pleased you put modesty aside,” Nathan muttered.

“I am simply speaking the truth.”

“Ezra, you wouldn’t know the truth if it up and bit you on the ass,” Vin laughed.

“He’s palming cards. Look! Look!” Buck cried.

“I do not palm cards.”

“No, he doesn’t palm cards, Bucklin. He has a whole spare pack up his sleeve.”

“I shall roll up the sleeves of this French silk shirt if you insist.”

“We do!” five voices chorused.

As Chris listened to the playful banter, and considered Ezra’s claims, his brothers’ physical appearances dissolved. Sitting around him were the same young men he’d shared the adventures of a life time with. Age may have changed their physical appearance, but on the inside, where it counted, they were still the best of the best - with a hell of a lot more to contribute to their country.

Larabee snorted happily. On Monday, he’d send his team’s acceptance to participate in A.N.T.S. again.

Chris smiled and joined his family at the table.

Today he was eighty years old, and despite a lifetime full of both victories and tragedies…despite the fact that things that used to ripple now wobbled… when he was around them he couldn’t feel old.

Around them, he would always be young and alive.

The wobble factor be damned.

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© March 2007 Aussie Lass. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to the owners of "The Magnificent Seven" and I thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.