Title: Another Brick

Author: Heather F.

Disclaimers: Not mine, no money made from these stories.

Acknowledgments:  MOG--her sandbox (Hi mog)...Mitzi..she’s read this a trillion times (both    endings.) Huge Thanks. 

            Another Brick in the Wall..Pink Floyd.

Thanks: Nancy at Blackraptor for posting it.  Thanks...and Mitzi again.

Rating:  PG

Warnings:  Fluff....just a fluff story....a filler....a, “No TV reception at night...No shoes on my horse...Its raining again....stuck at an airport terminal....what am I to do now?”  kind of story...

 

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Part 1....All in all it was just another Brick in the Wall......

 

“Now Ezra quit yer gawd dang belly aching an’ git yer ass movin’,”  Buck Wilmington forcibly shoved the Southerner through  the door. 

 

“Really gentlemen its feeling much improved,”  Ezra punctuated the remark with a careful smile trying valiantly not to raise the upper corner of his right lip.  “ I think the pills the good Doctor prescribed are working wonderfully.” 

 

“Cuz they’re pain meds Brother,”  Sanchez rested a firm guiding hand on the undercover agent’s shoulder and gently propelled the stalling agent forward. 

 

“Yes, yes of course they are...and I think they’ve done the trick,”  Standish ran his tongue up over the trouble spot in the back of his mouth and though it ached some and felt slightly hotter than the rest of his mouth....all in all it was greatly improved. 

 

Ezra tried to roll out of Sanchez’s grasp.  Buck quietly grabbed his upper arm, “Keep movin’ forward Ez.”  Together Buck and Josiah manually herded the undercover agent toward the front desk. 

 

Pleasantries were exchanged.....The receptionist smiling sweetly at Buck. The paper work had been filled out previously, a simple way to shorten the wait.  

 

It was the waiting that was the worst.  Not only that but in those long minutes or half hours that one is forced to endure in a receptionist area....the ominous tick of the clock became closely akin to types of mind games and torture. 

 

It was also a time in which one Ezra Standish could probably finagle his way out of  what he perceived to be a bad situation. 

 

So with forethought and much planning, Chris and Nathan had the paper worked filled out earlier.  JD and Vin were forbidden from extraditing Standish to the present location.  Vin would have to much empathy and allow for an escape and JD would be unwillingly conned into letting Ezra ‘walk’.  Chris and Nathan both refrained from chaperoning the undercover agent...neither one had the patience nor benevolence to put up with his balking. 

 

That left the dirty chore to Buck and Josiah.  Both men took the responsibility with silent agreement but in private they made sure Chris some how ‘repaid’ them for services rendered.  

 

It was with a sigh of relief that the head nurse suddenly materialized and escorted them down to the prep. room.  There had been no wait.

 

With each muffled step on the padded carpet, Standish spoke quicker.  His greasy charm oozed like slime from a slug.  Buck quietly tightened his hold on Ezra’s upper arm...silently re-affirming his own resolve to follow this through.  Damn Ezra could convince a bear to waken in the dead of winter. 

 

Josiah had merely chuckled at the litany of phrases that spewed forth with southern charm and educated arguments...even philosophical.   Sanchez admired the few prints hanging on the ivy textured walls.   The corridor, though seemingly too long, was tastefully decorated. 

 

At the threshold of the prep room.  Standish finally stopped walking and dug his heels into the small runner that divided carpet from textured well crafted tile flooring.  There was no way in hell they were getting him to go through with this madness.  A simple procedure his ass...or mouth more like it.

 

He had a cousin once.  A year or two older than he.  They had played cards together as children.  When she had seen an Ace of Diamonds slip from his shirt sleeve she had beaten the living tar out of him.  Whenever he had practiced his ‘arts’ on her....whether it be picking pockets, the lock to her secret box or anything of the kind...and she’d catch him...holy terror reigned down upon him.  When he had been forced to go to school with her...she never let anyone pick on him...never.  Anyone pushed her little cousin around she stood up for him and bloodied their noses.  Despite falling under her tyrannical sense of right and wrong, Ezra had really liked her.  He lived with her and her parents for almost six months.  She had been the first one to introduce him to a Swirly.  He never thought he would forgive her for shoving his head into the toilet...and she had never thought that she would forgive him for reading her diary.  That tough older cousin of his, at the fragile age of eleven years old, taught him alot about respect and honing ones skill. 

 

She had her tonsils removed three weeks after he had been forced to leave their home.  Tonsils...not a big deal.   She had never come home.  At the wake....holding a new Aunt’s hand...he had forgiven his cousin for the swirly and wished she could rise up out of that silk line coffin and perform another one. 

 

Standing now at the entrance of the room with Josiah and Buck flanking him. He seriously reconsidered his options.

 

A dentist chair sat toward the front of the room facing large picture windows.  A rock garden with a small cascading falls rumbled down shelves of rocks. The view afforded the patient a calming scene of the outside world.  Behind the serene display of falling water lay a thick batch of birch, pine and amazingly a few maple trees.  The garden all an all was very sedate and almost comforting. 

 

Comforting......if one was not the individual directed toward ‘the chair’.

 

The Chair itself was cast in a light shade of soft silver, perhaps, Nickel or Pearlescence, maybe even Pewter.....or if one was of Ezra Standish’s frame of mind....prison drab grey. 

 

“Come on Brother don’t stop now,”  Josiah’s soft voice rumbled against Standish’s ear. 

 

“Ya don’t move yer butt Ez and I’ll haul yer ass over there,”  Wilmington whispered on the otherside. 

 

Standish quickly surmised a plan for escape.  The grips holding him fast...increased their pressure.

 

His Uncle, a rancher by trade, (an endevear Ezra never understood.  Why somone would devote their time and energy to raising unforgiving hooved beasts for a pittlance earning, was totally beyond the young southerner) still this Uncle, though not truly an uncle.  Uncle Thomas was just an aquaintance of Maude’s new husband.  Unfortunately he had an extra bed under his roof for a growing boy.  Uncle Thomas had a toughness about him that awed the young city southerner.  With a soft voice and a steady hand the man yielded equipment and animals like no other.  A life time of sausage, eggs, biscuits and gravy had caught up to the old man.  One evening late, in a heavy down poor a young Ezra, barely tall enough to see over the dashboard of the ‘77 Rust colored Ford guided it down country roads rushing to get his uncle to the local hospital.   His Aunt had sat beside him holding desperately to her paling husband trying to keep his life going.

 

In the waiting room, she had kept wringing her hands as she sat primly in a plastic chair fighting back tears.  Ezra had flipped cards.  He knew the outcome.  It would be just like his Cousin. 

 

This time he did not get to go to the Wake.  A stranger had picked him up the next morning at the hospital and shuttled him off to a new destination.  His soft good byes to his grief striken Aunt had fallen on deaf ears.  It didn’t matter.  In the end, they had wheeled a steardy man between doors that read NO ADMITTANCE and he never came out.

 

Ezra tried to squirm out of Buck and Josiah’s holds.  He was not as strong as his Uncle.  He did not have the same leathery toughness as that old man.   Cousin Katie could have probably out shot, out rode and out fought any of them.  How could Ezra ever hope to survive where his stalwart cousin faltered.  Why would the results be any different? 

 

In front of the chair rested a tray, empty at the moment.  A moveable surgical light hung over the area and a small stool sat beside the chair.   Anesthetic machine rested off in the corner discretely out of the main focal point of the room. 

 

A nurse nodded a ‘hello’ and directed the three men toward The Chair. 

 

Buck and Josiah each tightened their grip and tugged the smaller man between them.

 

Standish peered anxiously over his shoulder praying for some kind of natural disaster.  Perhaps a small earthquake...tiny maybe just in this general vicinity.  A tiny flood, an electrical storm?  A meteor shower?.....tsunami?   In Denver?  Well....he wasn’t picky right about now....Maybe they were near a trailer park...perhaps a mini twister... 

 

“Let’s go brother...”  Josiah’s gentle hand the shoulder metamorphosed into a death grip that encompassed not only shirt but skin as well. 

 

They settled him bodily into the chair. 

 

Ezra’s feet wiggled side to side.  He kept his knees bent, braced for escape. 

 

He sat forward unwilling and unable to let his head rest back against the head rest. 

 

He inched toward the sloping plane of the leg extensions hoping to maybe spot some kind of relief.  Perhaps and opening.  Maybe the large window before him was ‘safety glass’ and he could burst through it and run to freedom.  Of course, Buck and Josiah both carried their service revolvers and Chris had given them permission to shoot if necessary.  Truly unfair...ganging up on him like this. 

 

Two hands firmly and authoritatively pushed him back against the chair. 

 

“Stay put,”  Wilmington kept his hand on the now damp shoulder.  Sweat slowly seeped into the material. 

 

The Doctor entered the room somewhere behind them.   His voice full of cheer and re-assurance.  He spoke to each man in turn.  Josiah and Buck returned pleasantries.  Standish finding that his orating skills had failed him in his trip down here....hoped to find invisibility in silence. 

 

Josiah stepped slightly to the side as a nurse stepped forward.  She grinned as she lifted the cuff of Standish’s white designer T-shirt sleeve.  She swabbed a spot on his triceps area.  With a confident smile, she ignored the wide eyes and partially clenched jaw.  The sweet smile never dipping, she asked him some nonsensical personal questions and slid the needle quickly and skillfully under the skin, through the subcutaneous fat and into muscle. 

 

Ezra never saw the needle.  The soft pinprick suddenly registered as a mortal stab wound.  He would have leaped from his submissive position if not for the restraining grasps of his traitorous friends.  He wondered if they had given similiar medication to his stalwart cousin.

 

The nurse wiped the arm one more time.....lowered the short sleeve cuff and stepped away.  Her smile never dipped.  She winked at Buck.

 

Ezra wondered where they found nurses with such evil glares.  Mr. Larabee had nothing on them.  And what the Hell was in that shot...apparently nothing that would work on him.   He felt fine... intuned...just fine. 

 

Then the world began to swim.  The cascading water just outside the window began to bend and fluctuate in directions that defied natural laws. 

 

His limbs became impossibly heavy. His mouth suddenly went dry.  His head thudded back against the head rest.  He tried to pick it back up but found his neck muscles in the same fickle position of the rest of the muscles in his body.  Nothing wanted to work...and apparently he did not care. 

 

Buck and Josiah shared amused glances.  The injection had hit home.  Neither man relinquished nor lightened their grips.  Standish was a squirrely fighter on a good day...and today he was in top scrappy form.  

 

A natural disaster would be good right about now....not that it would have helped his situation...but it certainly would have enhanced the strange and wondrous swaying and bending of things around him.  Ezra felt.....detached.  He blinked slowly and sighed. 

 

Buck chuckled somewhere far off.  Josiah’s face suddenly filled his vision but try as he might Ezra could not get the older man into focus.  Standish attempted to raise a hand to swat at his older teammate but his hand had ceased to exist at the moment. 

 

Josiah then moved out of his vision.  The cascade again...but it seemed further away.  He widened his eyes and shook his head.  Gawd he felt heavy. 

 

Voices rumbled in the background.  A hand patted his shoulder. 

 

Then a strange face.  A green surgical shirt and a hairy neck.  Then glasses, a clean shaven face and the mouth moved.  Sound came out but the words floated away with the near imperceptible air currents in the room. 

 

Standish blinked again and tried to lift his head from the seat.  It was time to go. 

 

Buck pushed Ezra’s head back against the seat rest.  Wilmington chuckled, the undercover agent blinked slowly widening his eyes trying desperately to make sense of a world caste in a swirling haze. 

 

Sanchez stood behind the chair ready. 

 

The Doctor had tried to convince the two agents that it was alright to leave.  With the pre-meds on board Mr. Standish would no longer be a problem. 

 

Both Buck and Josiah disagreed. 

 

The anesthetic machine had been wheeled closer.  It rested slightly adjacent to the doctor between himself and Sanchez. 

 

The nurse handed him the mask.  Oxygen and anesthetic flowed down the twin tubing toward the rubber nose and mouth applicator.   Nathan had suggested that they use this particular version and once, ‘The Pain in the Butt’ was truly out switch to the simpler, less bulky, nasal mask. 

 

The doctor saw no reason for this but under the quiet re-assurance of Dr. Lauren Murray  he listened to the advice and heeded it accordingly. 

 

Ezra’s eyes widened at the object that descended upon his face from the parting heavens.  Something out of Aliens perhaps (damn JD and his movies). 

 

The anesthesiologist fit the mask neatly over the nose and mouth of his rather subdued if not quiet patient. 

 

It latched itself to his face....Oh Gawd...it latched to his face....it was starting....They wouldn’t be able to take him....never....

 

Buck and Josiah shared a look.  Both felt the once relaxed shoulder muscles suddenly tighten. 

 

The anesthesiologist noted the familiar look of fear....furrowed his brow and reconsidered it....terror maybe. 

 

Ezra would not fall quietly into whatever horrifying clutches that ensnared him.  Death had qualifying fears for Standish.  He respected it but did not fear it in a gun battle, or when driving his car or working undercover.  Not really, he understood Death could be a possible outcome and did everything in his power to ensure his success. He had danced with the Dark Specter on numerous occasions but always with his feet planted firmly in reality.  

 

This situation took that agility away from him.  This mask over his face ,with its foul gases trying to infiltrate his lungs, took all the control from him.  He would be at its mercy and the mercy of others to insure his safety.  That simply was unacceptable.  Ezra Standish watched out for number one.  A very easy dictate.  Not very complicated, certainly not confusing.  Mother did not raise a sheep of a son.  Never.  Yet here he suffered under the potential debilitating effects of a substance that threatened to rob him of his only chance of survival....as he saw it. 

 

This was inexcusable.  His cousin had been tough, toughest kid in school, if not a little unlady like.  His Uncle practically chewed nails for breakfast, a bit of a Neanderthal but still a powerful and steady force.  Both hardy people fell and crumbled when thrust into the arms of the health care professionals. 

 

Ezra Standish would not go so benignly. 

 

So he reacted.  He fought for his life.  He struggled no less than if he found himself in a gun battle or in a street fight.  Standish put every once of panicked energy into use. 

 

Buck and Josiah witnessed the blazing flash of horror in the startled green eyes.  *Damn.*

 

Ezra arched his back and snapped his head violently to and fro.  He whipped his hands by his face attempting to knock the smothering contraption from his nose and mouth. 

 

Buck and Josiah, having witnessed a similar terrified response before, anticipated the moves and cinched down tightly.  Wilmington neatly parried a flying hand and trapped it.  He hooked a leg up over one of Standish’s preventing the Southerner from actually standing in the chair.  Instead Standish merely had himself arched off the seat his shoulders and head pressed firmly into the back of the chair. 

 

“Come on Ez, jist relax...Me and Josiah ain’t gonna let nothing bad happen,”  Wilmington’s strained reassurance fell on deaf ears. 

 

Josiah cringed slightly at the other hand that had taken purchase at the small of his back.  He could feel the fist tighten and knot itself around his shirt material.  Damn Ezra had strong hands.  Josiah snaked an arm over the flung back arm and trapped it. 

 

Good thing they had waited on the IV. 

 

“Don’t stop now Doc,”  Buck hissed between clenched teeth.

 

A flailing foot shot up knocking the small stainless steel Mayo stand over.  It clattered to the stone tiled floor.

 

The sharp noise heightened Standish’s fight response.  He strained and wiggled again, arching precariously from the seat. 

 

With wild eyes, he struggled against the unseen forces that chained him to........something. 

 

Josiah...Buck....they had Josiah and Buck....Who?

 

“Don’t let up now Doc....our brother is going to take a breath soon,”  Josiah had wrapped an arm around Standish’s neck trapping it between powerful biceps and forearms.  Like a boa, he snugly kept his captive from escaping. 

 

Standish took a deep breath. 

 

“That’s it Ez....we’re right here....yer gonna be alright...trust me Ez, yer gonna be ok,”  Buck’s voice seemed to float in with the air. 

 

A strange test tickled the back of Ezra’s throat.  He could feel something flow into his lungs.  He cut the breath short and struggled again.   His lungs and body revolted against the sluggish command of his conscious mind and a second lung full was drawn.....the sweetened flavored air seemed to coat his insides.   His chest felt heavy. 

 

Another deep lung full....the world swam, there was no sound.....shades of grey rolled from the periphery of his vision like ocean fog. 

 

Another labored breath sucked in more tainted air.  He could feel his ribs expand.  Could imagine the muscles and ribs separating allowing his lungs to inflate..... He felt his eyes roll...unroll and roll again.  Another breath. 

 

“That’s it brother, just relax.....Come on son let go...We’re right here....nothing’s going to happen with us right here,”  Sanchez could almost taste his friend’s fear. 

 

Neither Buck nor Josiah released their holds.  Instead, they gauged their undercover agent by his expression.  The terror melted into confusion.   Eyes rolled showing only slightly blood shot whites but Standish was a fighter...and glazed green irises jockeyed for position.  He settled heavier in the chair, the hand that had snaked around and latched onto Sanchez came loose and swung toward the floor.    Feet slipped from the base of the chair. 

 

Their grips quietly metamorphasized from restraining to supportive.  “Easy Ez, jist take another breath....you’re doin’ good pard’,”  Buck’s soft reassurances fell on ringing ears. 

 

In a few short minutes....the dark hair settled heavily against Sanchez’s forearm. 

 

Buck cautiously loosened his grip.  He backed his hands off the shoulders and chest of the Southerner, ready to pounce should Standish come back to life. 

 

Following Wilmington’s lead, Josiah gently released the choke hold, that had no debilitating choke involved, and stepped back.  Standish’s head merely lolled toward his shoulder. 

 

“Guess he’s all yours Doc.”  Buck backed away from the chair smiling widely at the puzzled if not surprised anesthesiologist.  Dr. Winston had been in this profession for almost a life time.  Put three kids through college and two through Grad school.  He had seen alot of things and had heard a lot of things....Agent Larabee’s Team certainly was never a bore. 

 

“We’ll be waiting out front when you’re done,”  Josiah said backing away from the slumped form in the chair.  He felt a measure of guilt.  Then he thought of all the weeks they had to listened to Standish grumble and growl.  The last straw finally came three days ago when a cigarette runner punched the southerner in the mouth with a relatively light hit.  It had knocked the undercover agent to his knees clutching his face.   Chris had seen and heard enough.

 

“He shouldn’t wake up on his own either,”  Buck smiled at the petite recovery nurse, “he’d do better with a familiar face.” 

 

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part 2  all in all you’re just another brick in the wall.....

 

Larabee gazed at his office clock.   Ten am.  So far no news...no news ,of course, being good news.  The betting pool had stacked the odds in favor of Standish escaping.  The board had people pegging times when Josiah or Buck would call saying Ezra had slipped from their clutches.   None of Team Seven had made those wages.  They were all confident that Buck and Josiah together could get Standish to the oral surgeon’s office.  

 

Some trouble lay in the early morning hours.  When Standish had woken up...Chris could still see the quiet surprise when Ezra’s eyes opened to find Vin and himself sitting in his condo.  Their quiet presence had prevented the sly undercover agent from eating or drinking anything that morning...by accident.  More importantly they had hoped to soothe the fear that raged under the cool exterior.  Nathan had tried to explain it once...the anxiety..the apprehension and misgivings some had about Doctors and drugs and subsequent loss of control.  Though some of it made sense.  It was a mute discussion.  They knew Standish feared the anesthetic more than he did a bullet...and like in a gun battle they would back him.  So Vin and Chris had let themselves into Standish’s apartment before sunrise.  It also had prevented any disappearing acts their undercover agent might try and pull. 

 

The man could be a bit elusive.  Buck and Josiah had showed up and a changing of the guard had resumed.  Standish knew of the betting...in a twisted sort of way it had been their ploy to get him to go through with the appointment.  Ezra hated to lose. 

 

Though Ezra hated to lose, Chris did not discount Standish’s stark apprehension about anesthetic so easily.  Ezra might just throw out any thoughts of monetary gain and bolt for the door...hence the strong arm tactics. 

 

The real money lay in whether or not Josiah had to sling the undercover agent over his shoulder and just haul his ass into the Surgeon’s office or if Ezra maintained his dignity and walked in himself. 

 

Larabee bet with the dignity....as did JD.  Vin and Nathan had both figured Josiah would have to carry Standish in like a sack of feed.  Vin, would be betting from his own experience.  Not that he had to lug the undercover agent anywhere....but Tanner himself had to be forcibly dragged on the underground T in Boston.  The Blue Line from the Aquarium to the airport.  When Dunne had pointed out that it was possible they would travel under the harbor...well the damn Texan just about come unglued.  Nathan and Josiah had to drag him on kicking and squirming like a three year old.  Damn man paced the crowded car like foaming dog. 

 

It came as no surprise then that Vin had thought Ezra would behave in a similar manner.  Unlike Vin, however, Standish had a few days to try and gain his composure....or keep his composure, if truth be told.  Or perhaps stew.

 

Nathan understood just how unhinged the Southerner tended to get after a ‘Day-Surgery’.

Ezra hated not being in control of his thought processes.  He would balk.  Jackson had been sure of it. 

 

It was 10:05am and still no word.  What if Ezra had somehow knocked everyone else out and took off.  It would certainly seem farfetched to believe that Standish would be able to convince a whole office to drink the elixir of anesthetic...and it would be morally reprehensible....but this was Standish they were talking about.  Moral and Ethics carried a price tag. 

 

The phone rang.

 

“Larabee,” Chris noticed Vin, JD and Nathan crowd his office. Ryan Kelly followed.  Team 8 did not trust anyone when it came to wagering.   It seemed the whole Denver ATF office as well as DA office had a bets riding on this morning’s outcome. 

 

“’Ey Chris,”  Buck’s voice echoed around the small office.  The others stepped closer to Chris’s desk hoping to hear both sides of the conversation.   Larabee hit ‘Speaker phone’ and hung up the receiver.

 

“How’d it go?”  Larabee leaned on his desk with one elbow running a hand through his hair.

 

“Went good...just waitin’...hold on a sec,”  Buck’s voice suddenly pulled away from the phone and soundly slightly muted.  “Hey Josiah he’s beginnin’ to move around some,”  Then Wilmington’s voice came back, “he’s comin’ around now.” 

 

“He give ya any trouble?”  Chris knew the answer to this question but needed details to satisfy the betting pool. 

 

In the background, they could hear Josiah deep voice, “Now jist take it easy son....yer all right...”  There was a pause, “that’s it brother....take it nice and slow.” 

 

“Nah not to bad,” Buck’s voice chuckled over the digital phone.  The qualifying statement had yet to be uttered.

 

“No Ezra you don’t need to be sittin’ up just yet....just lay back....you with us?”  Josiah’s voice came across the small speaker almost as clearly as Buck’s. 

 

“He didn’t give you any trouble?”  Nathan spoke up with disbelief from across the room.  Ezra apparently had more self control than they gave him credit for under the circumstances.

 

“Well not until we reached the entrance to the building,”  Buck’s voice faded away again and they could hear him speaking to someone else...presumably Standish.  “’Ey Ez, ya alright...jist relax pard’ yer doin’ jist fine.” 

“Yeah, but he didn’t put the brakes on until we actually got into the room with the chair.”  Buck’s voice had come back to the phone.  Then it pulled away again, “It’s ok pard’ told ya we’d stick with ya...jist lay back and relax some...that’s it pard’ jist take it easy. We’re right here.”

 

“Did Josiah have to carry’im?”  JD called out.  He spun the rawl of the spur that sat on Chris’s desk. 

 

“Nope...did have to drag’im some...but nothin’ too undignified,”  Buck answered. 

 

“Ezra?  ya hear me?  how ya feelin’ son?”  Josiah’s distance question was answered with a muffled, garbled, groan.

 

“Damn they’ve got half the cotton in Georgia shoved in his mouth.”  Wilmington spoke softly outloud. 

 

“Did Josiah have to sit on’im?”  Tanner’s soft Texan drawl floated around the room.

 

“Nahh nothin’ to drastic....I think Murray must have phoned them.  They knocked him for a loop with some premeds in the arm...took the spit and vinegar out of’im,” 

 

“Damn,”  Kelly’s disappointment brought smiles to everyone.

 

Wilmington laughed, “Yeah Kelly seems your team owes us a round at Inez’s tonight.”  Hoots and whistles in Chris’s office filled the speaker phone.  “Ez’s one tough nut.”

 

Chris chuckled relieved that at least his team came out winners in the wagering.  He looked meaningfully at Ryan Kelly...their material witness to the conversation.  

 

“Well get him settled in at home and decide which one of ya is going to baby-sit him and the other get back here...we got work to do.” 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Josiah reached over and snapped the seat belt.  “How ya doin’ Brother?” 

 

Ezra merely gazed at him with lackluster eyes and then let his head fall back against the passenger window with a thud. 

 

Wilmington cringed.  He pulled his sweat shirt off wadded it up and placed it under Standish’s head. 

“Damn Josiah he’s not even with us,”  Buck sat back and leaned against his door. 

 

“Good thing too....you got his meds?”  Sanchez backed the beat up suburban out of the parking lot.  The ex-anthropologist/profiler grinned.  This morning was probably the only time Ezra had ever ridden in the truck and prayed for it to break down.   Josiah paused in his thoughts...it was one of the first times the Southerner had ridden in his truck that it didn’t actually break down.  Lady Luck.  Fickle mistress. 

 

“Yeah in my pocket,”  Buck leaned back in the worn seats and closed his eyes.  What a morning. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The distant shrilling sound had Ezra trying to lift his head again.  Somewhere passed the lethargic grey mud his mind and body wallowed in, he recognized a change in motion....or direction.  Someone spoke his name...an apology maybe.... Josiah? 

 

With a groan he let his head fall back. 

 

Buck grimaced when Standish once again let his head slam against the passenger window.   Wilmington reached over the front seat and picked up his fallen sweat shirt.  Once again he placed it under Ezra’s head. 

 

“Chris say why he wants us all at the office?”  Buck rested back in his seat and met Josiah’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

 

“Nope...but he said we might as well bring Ezra along since he isn’t suppose to be alone,”  Sanchez headed back toward the Federal Building and the twelfth floor that housed their ATF offices.  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buck and Josiah rounded the corner and entered into their teams bull pen.  Between them on sagging legs that did not know they belonged to a body, was Standish. 

 

“He doin’ alright?”  Chris had been leaning over JD’s shoulder staring at the information on the young man’s terminal.  He stood up and faced his three agents.

 

“Yeah he’s just not home right now,’  Buck offered.

 

“Put’im in my office and then everyone meet in the conference room in five minutes.”  

 

Vin came in through the fire entrance.   His cheeks held the bite of a spring wind.  Chris figured his sharpshooter must have been on the roof again trying to find some space within a crowded city....and office floor.

 

“Ey Ez...ya in there?....Ya did real good this morning pard’,”  Tanner lifted Standish’s chin and peered at the heavily lidded eyes, “Earth calling Ez...come in Ez....earth callin’....aw heck ain’t nuthin in there.” 

 

“Been sayin that for years,”  Jackson intoned following the threesome into Chris’s office.   The ex-medic held an ice pack wrapped in a towel.  The gross swelling and bruising to Standish’s right cheek seemed horribly worse than it had yesterday.   Impacted wisdom teeth.  Figures. 

 

“Vin?....You get the print outs of the Warehouse?”  Chris asked leaving JD’s desk to stand at the entry way of his office.  He watched as Josiah and Buck manipulated and cajoled Standish into laying down for a moment.  The ice pack became neatly nestled between ear and cheek.  Nathan draped a blanket over the agent and placed a plastic lined tin trash can next to the couch. 

 

Larabee appreciated the gesture....though he didn’t think Ezra had the where for all to know to utilize the bucket should he need too. 

 

“Conference room gentlemen,”  Judge Travis strolled into the bull pen area.  He paused at Chris’s office and waited for the men to file out.  He took a quick gaze at the trouble maker ensconced in a blanket on the couch.  Agent Standish appeared harmless almost benign.   Then again so does a sleeping wolverine. 

 

“Josiah have to carry him into the surgery this morning?”  Travis asked quietly of Larabee. 

 

Chris smirked and shook his head, “Nope...walked in.” 

 

The Judge’s softly muttered, “Damn,”  brought a chuckle to Agent Larabee. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Travis stood before six men that comprised team Seven.  His team, a private army if some whispers were to be believed.  In truth....it seemed somewhat farfetched but not completely untrue.  He controlled the Team, gave them their directions, their cases.  Though they technically were apart of a bigger whole...Denver ATF which inturned was a section of Colorado ATF...and the assimilation’s continued until it encompassed the whole US.

 

Locally though, they were Travis’s Team.  They answered to him, he answered to the bureaucrats.  He shouldered their successes as well as their failures.  He crested the tides that rocked the team as well as rode out the more tranquil times.  It was said he held the reins to seven, ornery, mule headed SOB’s that had respect for no one.  In the end, Travis could not disagree.  There was never a more unruly, undisciplined bunch in the state. 

 

If one was to tell them to sit, a few would stand, a few would ignore you and a few would question the logic behind the request. Nothing easy existed when it came to Larabee’s men.  Nothing.  Focused ,however, and they became a pack of hunters, working in tandem stalking, and dragging down their prey.  When it came to the hunt no one did it as well as His Pack...Team Seven.  Travis’s men.

 

He stood before the men.  Vin Tanner sucked on a Tootsie pop.  A red one.  The blue one had already been chewed and turned his tongue blue.  The Judge knew this because the Sharpshooter turned and showed off his blue tongue to JD.  Mr. Dunne, not to be out done, had already consumed a Hawaiian Punch drink and Doritos and retaliated Vin’s actions by opening his mouth and displaying his half chewed food and brightly stained red tongue.  Not to mention the red mustache that curved up at the corners of his mouth.

 

The closest thing to a mustache he’d probably get to, or so Buck remarked twirling the end of his dark bushy stash between forefinger and thumb.  Josiah’s rumbling laugh rolled across the table. 

 

Travis closed his eyes and reminded himself that career day at Billy’s third grade class tended to be alot more subdued than a conference with this team. 

 

Chris intervened, “Enough,”  The single word spoken in a soft whisper silenced the room like a police whistle. 

 

Travis inclined his head in simple ‘Thanks.”  The meeting continued. 

 

Tuesday would be the day of the bust.  “The buy”.  Would Standish be back on his feet?  Nathan found the question directed at himself and nodded.  The Southerner needed a few days to kick the effects of the anesthetic.  Day surgery on their Undercover agent normally translated into a few days of lethargic malaise.  He didn’t tolerate drugs well.  Sunday should see him back to his old satiric self. 

 

Everyone groaned....even the Judge. 

 

Blue prints materialized, files and folders spread out over the glossy table top and people climbed to their feet.  It was time to hammer out the plan for Tuesday.  They would fill in their Seventh on Monday. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Judge nodded his approval.  The clock hands pointed directly South and North.  6pm.  It was time to go home to his wife.  Though he would love to enjoy a quiet evening alone with Evie...they had a dinner engagement with the Governor.  Though the two old war dogs were good friends...an afternoon with Chris and his men had left Orrin wishing he could back out of his evening plans.  Evie would probably be thankful. 

 

He nodded his farewells to the Team and headed for the elevators. 

 

Whoops and Hollers marked his exit.  It was Friday night and it seemed Team Seven won the nonexistent betting pools.  There  were many an ATF, DA, ahh heck just about the whole Federal building...owed them drinks at Inez’s Saloon.  Damn Standish couldn’t just once do something to make Travis’s life easier. 

 

The Judge nearly took it as a personal insult but then figured it would only please the gambling agent even more.  Exasperating. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

JD and Buck folded Standish into Buck’s old Chevy pickup.  The ole girl didn’t look like much, but she had it where it counted, or so Wilmington bragged.  No one seemed inclined to disagree with him.  That old Chevy could go places most mules would think twice of traversing.  Under the paint mottled warped hood sat a pristine powerful engine that would have most one percenter’s drooling over.  Yeah, his truck didn’t look like much and sounded worse...but if something needed doing that old Chevy would do the trick. 

 

And women loved it. 

 

The threesome pulled out of the Federal garage on the bumper of Chris’s onyx extended cab ‘99 Dodge Ram.  Vin’s beat up jeep sliced its way between the two trucks forcing Buck to brake.  Wilmington flipped the Sharpshooter off and Vin cupped a piece of his chest in return. 

 

Buck roared with laughter. 

 

Nathan and Josiah had already left planning on meeting them at the Saloon.

 

Buck took a quick peek at his passenger, “ ‘Ey Ez...how ya doin’?” 

 

Standish sighed and leaned heavily against the window hoping his cheek would touch the glass.

 

“Could you just drop me at home?”  The pinkish cotton crammed in the back of his mouth muted the garbled response.

 

“Yeah we will after Inez’s...Heck Ez, cuz of you half the Feds in the state are buyin’ us drinks,”  JD leaned forward and patted the coated shoulder of his drugged friend. 

 

Buck laughed, hit his blinker and pulled into traffic.  He was feeling lucky tonight.

“Heck Pard’ this is your victory celebration....you can’t believe how many people you dusted today.”   Wilmington flashed a sincere smile at the baffled swollen features adjacent to him.

 

JD settled back in the back seat staring out the window...he didn’t really know what terrified him...but he hoped he when he had to face it he could do as well as Ezra did...and have the backing of the team. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It appeared to be standing room only at Inez’s.  Buck plowed a path through the crowd leading Standish by one arm.  Chris brought up the rear.  Vin and JD headed toward the bar to place their orders and have it put on Team 8’s tab.  They planned on working their way down the ATF numbers and then start on the DEA and DA’s office.  DEA agents...they knew how to have a good time. 

 

Josiah and Nathan had commandeered their usual table.  Sanchez slid in on his bench reaching up and guiding the Southerner down.  Standish irritably shook the help off.  He was not an invalid.  He just wanted to go home. 

 

“Yer mouth hurtin’ ya Ezra?”  Nathan practically had to holler over the voices in the bar.  The pool area had people at every table and wannabe players leaning against walls nursing beers. 

 

Standish rested his forehead in his left hand and gave Jackson an incredulous expression. 

 

“Here take two of these...and no drinking,”  Nathan handed him twin moderately, small, white non-coated tablets. 

 

Josiah raised an eyebrow when Standish swallowed them without complaint. 

 

Buck moved off in search of the HR assistant director.  She hailed from the Midwest like himself and she seemed sweet on him. 

 

JD and Vin materialized through the crowd juggling trays of food and drinks.  Inez followed on their heels.  She circled around the back of the booth.  Leaning over she whispered something into Standish’s ear.  He merely nodded.    The bar manager then repeated her words to Larabee, “If he wants to lay down there is a cot in the back....he can stay there until you are ready to go.” 

 

Chris thanked her and then peered questionably at Standish.  The man did look rough.  Maybe he should have just driven him home and stayed with him until morning. 

 

Ezra saw the inquiring gaze Larabee directed at him.  Standish shook his head ‘No’ he did not want to lie down.  Well yes he did...he wanted to go to bed and sleep this deplorable day away..not that he had not already done that but he felt sore, queasy and just all around uncomfortable.  Sleeping in the back of Inez’s saloon offered nothing more than to embarrass him. 

 

Why couldn’t the others just drop him off at his own place while they celebrated...whatever it was they felt needed celebrating, and leave him to his misery.  Besides it was humiliating to be dragged around like baggage at an airport; couldn’t be left unattended but somewhat burdensome.  He kind of felt like a kid again, under his mother’s tutelage when no relatives could relieve her of her motherly duties. 

 

He sighed, leaned back in the both and tried to follow the conversations around him.  Nothing quite made sense.  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buck stretched his arms and arched his back. 

 

“Well boys I”m headin’ home,”  the well built blonde standing by the bar flashed him a smile.  They had a late dinner planned.  Wilmington checked his watch....the all night cafe down the street made some good food.  Besides Katie Jo was not much interested in food if Buck understood her correctly.

 

JD twisted his back around stretching.  He sighed at a few audible pops.  He had not heard from Casey all week so JD figured on sleeping off tonight’s activities until late morning.

 

Vin’s cell phone suddenly sounded.  The Texan appeared slightly annoyed.  His expression changed after he listened to the frantic voice that squeaked on the other end.  He nodded without saying anything.  The Sharpshooter pushed himself from the booth and stood up, “Yeah alright Carlos I’m on my way....just hang on...and stay out of sight I”m coming right now...no..no..I won’t call the cops...just sit tight...ok I”m leavin’ now,”  Vin caste a quick glance at Larabee.

 

Chris agreed, “I’m with ya Vin.”

 

“Ok..Carlos I’m bringing a friend...No no he ain’t a cop..well not technically..jist stay where ya are...I’m comin,”  Tanner hung up the phone and addressed the table, “some of the neighborhood kids got into it again tonight...some of’em are hurt.”  The Sharpshooter’s apologetic gaze fell to Chris.

 

“Don’t worry about it Vin,”  Larabee stood up and slid into his coat.  “Can one of you guys take Ezra home and stay with’im?” 

 

Josiah and Nathan both paused staring at one another.  Sanchez planned on stopping by the mission.  Nathan expected Rain in sometime tonight. 

 

The exchange did not go unnoticed by Ezra.  He sighed.  Why wouldn’t they just let him be on his own.

 

“I’ve got him Chris...I ain’t doin’ nuthin’ with Casey tonight...and Buck’s probably taking poor Katie Jo back to our place,”  Dunne shrugged.

 

Ezra sighed.  He would just slip from Dunne and find his own way home.

 

“Thanks JD,”  Vin tossed the keys to his Jeep to JD. 

 

“And JD,” Chris held the younger man’s gaze, “don’t let him slip through your fingers,”  Chris spared a quick glance at the undercover agent, “keep a tight hold of him til you get him home.”  Larabee didn’t like the stony expression on the Southern’s face. 

 

“No problem,”  Dunne watched Larabee and Tanner disappear across the floor.  He turned his attention back to their table, “Come on Ez lets go,”  JD grabbed Standish by his upper arm and proceeded to haul him from the booth. 

 

Ezra, irritated by the whole situation, shook his arm out of the grasp, “I am not an invalid, Mr. Dunne,”  except between the pain killers, the swelling, bruising and inordinate amount of cotton still jammed in his mouth, the only thing anyone understood was the caustic glare. 

 

JD rolled his eyes.  ‘Oh great and he’s gonna be a grump the rest of the night.’

 

Nathan seeing the reaction in Standish rolled the bottle of pain meds across the table to JD.  Dunne snatched them up before Ezra’s fumbling fingers could.  Dunne smiled a thankyou to Nathan. 

 

“Brother if you have any problems, I”ll be at the Church.” 

 

Dunne simply nodded and shadowed Standish across the bar.

 

******************************************************************************

part 3.... I don’t need no drugs to calm me....

 

JD screwed the lid back on the med bottle.  Who the heck stops for Red lights at 12:33 am?  Apparently the idiot in front of him.  Heck back in Boston it was only red if someone was coming or if a Cop sat on the corner....or if a Dunkin Donut were near by...and then yes one of Boston’s finest would be in the vicinity.  As it were, JD was stuck at this fourth consecutive red light behind an irritatingly slow Toyota Camry.  Worse yet, Ezra still mumbled incessantly about not needing a baby-sitter.  Dunne out of self defense had given the Southerner a pain med.  Maybe it would knock his complaining butt out and give JD some rest.

 

Dunne’s phone rang. 

 

“’Ey JD,”  Casey’s voice rang clearly over the phone.  JD furrowed his brow at the tone.  Something was up. 

 

“’Ey Case whatcha doin’ up this time of night?” 

 

“Thinkin’ about ya...Aunt Nettie’s gone and won’t be back til Sunday...an’ its kind of quiet up here alone.” 

 

JD felt his pulse quicken.  “Ya want me to stop by tonight?” 

 

There was a pregnant pause and finally a timid, “Yeah....If ya don’t mind and got nuthin’ else to do?”  The young lady, fearing flat out refusal, offered him a backdoor should he want to back out of her invitation. 

 

*Was Casey inviting him to stay the night at her house? *

 

“No I ain’t doin’ anything,” JD’s mind was racing.  Heck he was only three blocks from Nathan’s.  Nathan wouldn’t mind holding onto Ezra until the morning.  “I’ll be there in a half hour ok?” 

 

“Thanks J.D.”

 

Dunne could almost see her smile over the phone. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Nathan answered the door while he hastily arranged his clothes into some sort of passable appearance.  He nearly slammed the door shut when he saw who stood on his door step.

 

“Dang JD what the heck are you doin’ here?”  Nathan stepped out onto the welcome mat and gently closed the door, “and with him....yer suppose to take ‘im home.” 

 

“I know Nathan but somethin’ came up and I gotta go. Here’s his meds,”  JD slapped the pill bottle into Jackson’s hand before the medic could refuse.   Dunne was already running toward his small truck loudly whispering his thanks.

 

Nathan ground his teeth and shook his head in frustration and anger.  They were not going to do this to him.  Not tonight.  He had not seen Rain in weeks and she would only be here until the morning. 

 

Standish made to lean against the door frame.

 

“Oh no you don’t, You ain’t stayin’ here,” Jackson opened the front door to his little home.  “Rain I’ve got to step out for a moment...I’ll be right back.”  With that he shut the door and half dragged the Southerner toward his Jeep Cherokee.  If Rain saw Ezra she would insist that they take him in and watch over him.  Nathan had other plans for this evening. 

 

With any luck, Buck would still be having dinner with his girl. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buck Wilmington’s head shot up in surprise when a pill bottle was slammed down onto the Formica table top.  Plates of greasy eggs and soggy toast rested in front of the two occupants.  Nathan tried to ignore the fried heart attacks waiting to happen and placed Standish at the head of the booth. 

 

“I’ve got to get back to Rain,”  Jackson then pulled a JD and hit the door running before Buck could refuse.  “Josiah’s at the Church,” he yelled back over his shoulder as he disappeared into the parking lot. 

 

Wilmington smiled sweetly at his new girl and then up at the definitely unhappy but uncoordinated undercover agent. 

 

“Not to worry Katie Jo, Josiah’s Church is on the way to my place.” 

 

“Is he alright?”  The young blonde stared up at the rumpled figure swaying at the head of their booth.

 

“Oh Ez?  Yeah he’s fine...jist tired is all...ain’t that right Ez?” 

 

“Home, Mr. Wilmington, please....”  The cotton muffled the plea.

 

“Is he slow or something?”  Her meaning coming across very clearly.  The waitress behind the counter skewered her eyes.  Her son had Down’s and he was not Slow as other put it...

 

“Nah...that’s just Ez,”  Buck stood up and dropped a few bills on the table to cover the tab.  He scooped up the pain meds and grabbed Standish’s arm.

 

Ezra wrenched it free. 

 

Buck sighed. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Josiah looked over his shoulder to check for on coming traffic but at 1am there really wouldn’t be any.  He never saw the headlights that swerved from the on coming lane to careen right toward him.  The headlights came to a stop just before hitting his beloved suburban.

 

He watched somewhat mystified if not a little weary as two people spilled from the vehicle. 

 

“’Ey Josiah...sorry to bother ya but Ez needs to stay with you,”  Buck swung open the passenger door which groaned and complained.  Twisted metal bent and gave as non-oiled hinges squeaked under protest. 

 

Wilmington crammed the Southerner into the truck tossed the pill bottle to Sanchez and slammed the door shut. 

 

Buck waved a thankyou and disappeared behind the glare of his headlights.  Josiah watched him drive away with a feeling of hopelessness.

 

At the low groan emanating beside him, Sanchez turned and faced his new charge, “Well Brother it looks like its you and me...”  His phone rang.

 

Ezra dropped his head against the passenger side window.  He just wanted to go home.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Josiah ran the suburban onto the sidewalk about a block away from the fire.  Flames licked the night.  The mission.  The soup kitchen.  Of all the lousy luck in this blasted world.  Why this place?  Why Lord?  Why allow something as helpful as a homeless shelter and soup kitchen go up in flames?  The red alternating flashing of lights lit the night. 

 

“Sit tight Ezra I’ll be back,”  Sanchez made to slide from the car.  He recognized the muffled oath of disgust. 

 

“Yer mouth botherin’ ya...here take two of these,”  Josiah held out his hand, “now don’t go fightin’ me on this brother or I’ll shove’em done yer throat...jist take the damn medicine,”  Sanchez could not believe the mission.  The flames...it had to be a total loss.  One could see the inferno two blocks away.  Josiah watched as Ezra swallowed his pills. 

 

“Open yer mouth.”

 

Ezra complied the best he could....he just wanted to go home.   The undercover agent watched the distant flames and thought them beautiful in a raw kind of way.  Why there would be flames in the middle of a city he could not imagine but it made for a wonderful spectacle.  He watched Josiah lumber toward the fire.  Standish sighed. 

 

If there was one thing his Mother had taught him, it was self reliance.  Standish fumbled with the car handle. 

 

It was time to go home.  Ezra shoved open his door stumbled out and headed for home.  He took the bottle of pills Josiah had left on the dash board.  He’d be damned if someone shoved another one down him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Judge Travis thought he were in Hell.  It was 1:20am and he was still hobnobbing with political sharks.  Orrin had better things to do than swim with cut throats. 

 

Evie stood across the room and gave him a woeful smile. 

 

Her evening gown stood out amongst the drab black wear of her younger counterparts.  Mrs. Travis slid from person to person with a dignified grace.  She met most with a sincere smile and those that she could fine no smile for she nodded pleasantly. 

 

Evie Travis was a woman amongst women.  She stood heads and shoulders above others even though her 5’5 frame kept her an average height.  Everyone who met her liked her.  Mrs. Travis a farm girl born and raised...had succeeded in raising a son and now a grandson.  She stood by her husband’s side.  His sole supporter in his dark days of Law School. 

 

With a wan smile Evie Travis tried to find strength to continue on with this boorish social party.  Cigarette smoke hung in the air.  The same drink she had been offered at their entrance long ago still graced her work worn hands.  Long nails did not suit her garden and pleasure horse hobbies.  It had taken nearly ten minutes of soaking her hands in soapy water to remove the dirt stains.   Sometimes Orrin’s profession landed them into some untasteful duties.  Truth be told though she would do this again if he asked.  

 

A commotion at the front of the small restaurant garnered her attention.  Finally a distraction. 

 

The Maitre’d was diligently trying to shove a poor soul out of the door.  Whoever he pushed at gave no indication of being deterred.  Instead a wallet materialized.  The maitre’d recognized the pilfered item to be his own and momentarily released the man he so diligently tried to repel.

 

“Just need to use the phone,”  The words were garbled. 

 

The accent unmistakable.

 

“Mr. Standish?”  Mrs. Travis stepped forward.  Sure enough the young man, with disgruntled hair, a shirt half untucked and his face swollen like chipmunk readying for winter was none other than Ezra Standish.  One of her husband’s men. 

 

“He’s with me,”  Evie Travis’s disarming smile had the few gathering waiters backing off a couple of steps.  She slid closer to the man obviously struggling to keep his feet.  “Mr. Standish are you alright?” 

 

“Attempting to get home...just need to call a cab,”  He mumbled softly.  The last block had been  agonizingly slow.  It seemed the world rocked back and forth.  His focus swam and his stomach rolled.  If he could just hail a cab...but none had passed by.  He would call for one at the next pay phone but found none.  So a restaurant seemed like as good a place as any to call a cab.

 

Mrs. Travis gently guided the younger man into the room.  The dim lights disguised some of the harsh bruising on his face. 

 

Orrin turned his head instinctively toward his significant other.  And found...Mr. Standish? 

 

The Judge made polite excuses and crossed the floor to his beautiful wife of forty years.

 

“Mr. Standish what are you doing here?”  The Judge couldn’t keep the worry and anger out of his voice.  What happened to the rest of the team?

 

“Now Orrin the poor boy is sick...he just wants to go home,” Evie guided the agent toward a small bar table. She had known about the teeth and the concurrent wagering. 

 

“Lets sit him over here,”  The Judge led them into a quiet corner and sat the befuddled agent down.  “Ok Mr. Standish, where are the others?” 

 

In his slow, methodical, heavy, Southern tones Ezra began to recount what he could of his evening. 

 

Mrs. Travis did not know whether to laugh or cry.   She caste a quick glance at her husband and found him fuming.  His “Judge Roy Bean” face had slid into place.  The Hanging Judge started dialing phone numbers on his digital phone. 

 

Voicemail.  Six different numbers...six different voice mails. 

 

Mrs. Travis watched the building explosion and feared for the innocent bystander sitting with them.  “We’ll just take him home with us and straighten this out in the morning.” 

 

The Judge drew in a deep breath about to argue but stopped.  His wife had that look....the same look she took whenever she found a stray cat or dog....if it weren’t for Humane Societies the Judge feared his home would be over run by pets that needed families. The homlier....the harder she fell. 

 

Standish appeared at his worst. 

 

Shaking his head but silently agreeing with her, Judge Travis helped his wife haul the ATF agent to wobbly feet.

 

“Passage to my accomodations would suffice,”  The thick southern tones sounded pitiful around all that cotton. 

 

“We’re gonna get you there honey,”  Evie Travis mollified as she and her husband eased Standish out the door. 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Judge Travis stared at his wife through the rear view mirror.  She smiled sadly but reassuringly back at her husband.  She lifted the coat Orrin had draped over the younger man, raising it slightly higher, covering Standish’s shoulder.   Evie watched as their passenger fought to keep his eyes open, but the hellacious day and late hour played havoc with his resolve. 

 

Orrin shook his head as he guided his wife’s silver SUV onto the highway and toward their modest home. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

JD fell asleep laying beside Casey believing all was right in the world. 

 

Nettie Wells guided her old, but trusty Ford pick-up down back roads figuring she would surprise her niece by being home for breakfast.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Chris Larabee cursed Vin Tanner for the umpteenth time that star lit morning, as he tried to stem the blood flowing from the gash in his own forearm.  The Sharpooter held an icepack to his forehead and dried blood crusted his upper lip.  Kids my ass. 

 

Bottles and rocks....that’s what these misguided kids used to settle disputes.  Thankfully not guns and knives.

 

Chris sighed when an EMT, accompanied by a DPD officer, replaced the soaked compress with another. 

 

Chris refused to go to the Emergency Room.  Nathan could suture it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Nathan Jackson pleaded with Rain, as he had been doing all night, trying to convince her that he did not abandon his teammate.  He had left Ezra with Buck.  Try as he might, Nathan could not appeal to Rain’s more forgiving side in matters that dealt with helping her fellow human being.  ‘Buck and Ezra had to be just fine’... of course every time Nathan tried to contact either of them he only received VoiceMail requests.  A wonderful romantic evening fizzled down the drain. 

 

Jackson had every intention of strangling Standish and then JD.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Josiah coughed and gagged black goo from his lungs.  His eyes watered terribly.  He could still taste and smell the smoke.  It invaded his clothing and pores, drenching him with its thick presence.  An EMT held an Oxygen mask to his face but the large man brushed it away irritably.  He was fine. 

 

A firefighter patted him gratefully on the shoulder.  A few nodded thanks and even a couple shook his hand.  Sanchez had stormed into the collapsing burning building saving the life of a fireman. 

 

Josiah only nodded, it was his duty to watch over his fellow man and help them when he could.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Orrin Travis sighed wearily as he slid between the crisp sheets of his bed.  His wife had finally joined him.  The sun would crest the horizon in just a few short hours.  Two actually. 

 

“He alright?” 

 

“Finally sleeping,”  Evie snuggled comfortably next to her husband resting her head on his shoulder.  “Just dry heaves....probably a combination of the anesthetic, exhaustion and the pain medication....he should sleep ok for awhile.” 

 

The Judge nodded and cinched his wife tighter to his side.  Their son Steven did not do well with anesthetic either.  When he had had his four wisdom teeth removed the poor boy had been terribly ill, popped all his stitches as well.  Just as Mr. Standish did this evening or morning. 

 

Watching his wife sit on the bathroom floor beside the ATF agent, had brought some hauntingly familiar images to the Judge’s tired mind.  Though he wanted to impart to his wife that the man kneeling before their toilet did not need coddling....the Judge had stopped himself. 

 

Evie missed their Steven...missed him terribly.  If for one flash of time she could comfort another living soul in their house as she had her son, then who was the Judge to prevent it. 

 

His wife held him close and closed her eyes.  Gawd how she missed her baby. 

 

******************************************************************************

part 4...I don’t need no arms around me....

 

Chris Larabee woke to the harsh, unforgivable ringing of a telephone.  An arm snaked out from under a quilt.   A hand fumbled around the night stand knocking the alarm clock off the table.  The groping hand found the receiver and picked it up.   It snaked the receiver back under the covers.

 

“ ‘Lar’bee,”  The mumbled words did nothing to hide the threat that infused the short identifying name.

 

“Its 7am Mr. Larabee.  Do you know where your undercover agent is?” 

 

Chris paused for a moment wondering if he really cared.  The voice sounded familiar.  If someone had kidnapped one of his agent’s well that was FBI territory..least ways until he woke up.  So whoever was on the other end of this line had to be insane.

 

“Who’s this?”  The vehemently hissed question really did not want an answer.

 

“Agent Larabee get your ass out of bed NOW!”  Orrin Travis sat in his private study with the doors closed.  Evie padded around the kitchen gathering things for breakfast.  A life time of waking up at 630am did not respect late night socializing. 

 

Chris immediately sat up.  “Judge?” 

 

“I’ll ask again Mr. Larabee, Do you know where your agent is?” 

 

Larabee stared at the white gauze bandage that encased his forearm. 15 stitches...maybe Vin’s head hurt worse than his arm.   That would be justice.  The Judge’s question repeated itself bringing Chris’s foggy mind back on track. 

 

What agent?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

JD’s eyes snapped open.  His breath caught in his throat.  He thought he heard something that sounded suspiciously like Aunt Nettie’s truck.  Casey slept curled against his left side. 

 

Dunne unpeeled himself from his girl and peeked out the window.  It over looked part of the dirt drive.  He let out a strangled curse.  JD dropped to his knees under the window sill hopefully out of sight. 

 

Aunt Nettie. 

 

The agent grabbed his clothes.  He flicked his jeans out in front of himself and wiggled into them desperately. 

 

Casey woke up to the struggles on the floor and watched somewhat bemused.

 

“JD whatcha doin’?” 

 

“Aunt Nettie jist pulled in!”  The whispered exclamation nearly made Casey scream out loud.

 

“Ya gutta git out of here JD...she’ll kill ya,”  Casey hopped out of bed tossed a t-shirt on and threw JD’s jacket at him.  She opened the window all the while pushing him toward it and out of it.

 

“Git out JD....oh Gawd git out of here will ya!” 

 

Dunne gathered up his sneakers, socks, shirt and coat and headed for the window.    How did Buck do this night after night?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buck cursed when the apartment door slammed shut.  The sleeping beauty he had entertained last night had left early this morning with promises of being back.  Wilmington had wanted to coast through the morning laying on his back and enjoying the quietness. 

 

“Buck!”  JD’s hollering had shattered his plans. 

 

“In here kid,”  Wilmington sat up on one elbow when Dunne exploded into his room.  

 

Buck furrowed his brow at his young protege.  JD had leaves in his hair, his shirt was ripped and he wore only one sneaker and carried the other. 

 

“You in trouble kid?”

 

“Yah can say that,”  JD whispered out attempting to come to grips with hanging from a tree branch by his feet trying not to sway as Nettie Wells walked quietly up the front walk.  All she had to do was raise her hand and she could have swatted him.   Oh, thank God she never looked up. 

 

“Well give me a sec....”  Buck was cut off by a ringing phone.   He sighed and answered it.  “Oh Hey Chris....” 

 

JD watched the pause and then, “Left ‘im with Josiah.” 

 

More nodding, this time Buck wearily wiped his face with his hand.  “Hold on a second he’s right here,”  Wilmington stared at JD, “Whatcha do with Ezra last night?” 

 

Dunne shrugged. Ezra was the least of his problems right now, “Left’im with Nathan.” 

 

Buck nodded and answered into the receiver, “pawned him off on Nathan....but Nathan found me and dumped him in my lap....but I was entertaining a beauty fit for sculpturing so I gave him to Josiah....Why?” 

 

JD stepped back out of the room as Buck held the phone away from his ear. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Josiah lay sleeping comfortably in his bed.  The restless feeling that he was forgetting about something important had plagued him since the fire.  Now in the soft grey twilight just before deep sleep it finally reared its ugly head. 

 

Ezra!

 

The big man bolted upright to the sound of a ringing phone. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ezra woke to a sore jaw and an aching belly.  He found himself comfortably curled under a white down comforter.  Confusion reigned for a moment as he realized he lay in a strange room.  Sun light seeped through large windows.  The soft morning hue revealed cozy but unfamiliar surroundings.  A freshly clean pile of clothing lay in the rocker beside the bed.  His clothes.  His eyes widened in dismay.  He peeked under the comforter. His memory flooded back with all the subtly of a breached dam.  Good Lord.....

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Orrin Travis checked his watch as he answered the front door.  Nine am. 

 

“Mr. Larabee, ”  The Judge ignored the bruises and white gauze bandages. 

 

The cold greeting did nothing to cool the fury in the agent.  *Standish damn man can’t stay put.*

 

“Why don’t you come in,”  Travis stepped to the side allowing Larabee to enter the foyer. 

 

Chris stood unmoving in the small area.  A hallway extended down the left side.  Hardward floors graced with elegant oriental runners stretched into the next room a few yards down.  Oversized windows bordered by spring drapes lined the wall.  Morning sunshine cut the shadows, chasing away the potential enclosed feeling created by the narrow passage.

 

A woman’s soft voice floated down the hallway.  She spoke to a second party not visible to Chris or Orrin.  Though the articulation had shed itself before the sound reached the two men in the foyer, Chris could easily make out the tender intentions of kindess.  Ezra.

 

To the right lay a small moderately decorated dining room.  A cherry wood table settled on plush rugs under a crystal chandelier.  A breakfront rested against the far wall near a window.  Again the spring sun lanced the room lighting it with more color than any man made invention.

 

The Judge led him this way.  Chris followed dutifully.  Anger seethed under the boiling frustration of finding one of his agent’s had gone missing last night.  Missing or misplaced? 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Judge opened the French doors to his study.  The full length glass doors lay covered by tasteful light material, effectively providing privacy. 

 

Chris followed bristling.  His men had a simple job to do and Standish only had to stay put.  No one could do anything without him watching over them. 

 

Travis stood at the front of his desk. With arms folded squarely across his chest, he stared blatantly at his personally chosen supervising agent.  A man of responsibility and steadfast dependability.

 

Larabee did not bother sitting down in one of the chairs.  This had no correlation with their professions.  This had all the makings of a private situation. 

 

“I don’t care who’s fault it is...if you gentlemen are unable or unwilling to care for one of your own I suggest you find someone who is capable.....” The Judge pursued life adhering to certain codes he thought should remain unbreakable. He regarded his agent with something akin to disappointment.  Travis walked a few steps toward the doors and paused, “Maude Standish may even have a few suggestions,”  he strode passed his agent and back toward the kitchen.

 

Larabee found himself alone in the plush study.  His anger dissipated. *How did he miss that?*

 

The heavy smell of leather and wood cleaner filled the air.  Leather bound books graced two of the three walls.  Large windows over looked the side yard and gardens.

 

Chris stood staring out the window.  The gardens were well manicured.  A few clouds dotted the sky.  Sunshine warmed the surrounding area.  Nothing moved. 

 

Larabee sighed. He wondered how he would convince Ezra that things were not as they appeared.....  No slight had been meant.  Chris closed his eyes.  How could he come up with a convincing argument that Maude had not yet employed on her son? 

 

The truth?  Heck,  truth be told no one wanted to be bothered with baby-sitting, they had other plans that did not include Standish. 

 

Reality came crashing down and Chris sat heavily on the back of an overstuffed chair. 

 

They had probably dumped Standish as many times, in one night, as Maude had done in years.  Ezra  had simply become inconvenient. 

 

*Why the hell couldn’t the damn man just stay in one place and trust them to get him home?  Couldn’t the fool unbury enough faith to wait for Josiah?  Was it so hard to just sit for a few minutes.....or hours?* 

 

They were his friends, family.  Ezra should have known better, he should have just waited for the others.  Larabee glared out the window grinding his teeth.  The formidable leader of Team Seven closed his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face trying to control his breathing.  He stood, his muscles twitching wanting to vent some of the pent up energy. 

 

*Maybe he did know better....how long would you have waited?...Son of a Bitch!* 

 

Chris closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

 

Hell, Ezra had trusted them.....Just as he had trusted and hoped Maude would keep him by her side as a kid. 

 

How could Larabee see fault with a young mother who had struggled to raise a son?  

 

There had to be a difference...right now.....Chris couldn’t see it. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ezra sat at the battered old oak kitchen table.  A small bowl of ice-cream sat before him with a pill.  Mrs. Travis bustled gracefully about the kitchen, making conversation out of nothing.  An amazing woman.  If she sensed the burning humility that seared Standish she gave no indication.  She spoke and acted as if she had not knelt by his side at a toilet bowl last night dressed in a formal gown.  

 

Standish had tried to unbury his pride but found it too had to have been flushed down the drain so to speak.  Mrs. Travis had seen and aided him through more sickness last night than his own mother had in a life time. 

 

A shameful display of weakness.  He rested his forehead in his hand.  With elbow propped up on the table, the undercover agent slugged through his thoughts trying to finagle a way home.  He could not impose up on the Judge and wife anymore.  Getting sick in their truck certainly should have been enough, but oh no he did not do things in halves...not Maude Standish’s little boy..Nope.  He had to get sick in the foyer, then the first floor bathroom. The Judge and his wife finally had to drag him bodily upstairs in a frantic fashion, to the guest bathroom. 

 

There ,of course, his degradation into his own private hell spun out of control. 

 

His memories after that had become a bit hazy:  Mrs. Travis wiping his mouth and rubbing his back in support, a cool cloth resting against the back of his neck as his face dove into the toilet bowl, the helping hands aiding him in the removal of his clothes and then being put to bed.  Mrs. Travis talking to him reassuring him that everything would be better by morning.

 

Well, it was morning...and his stomach felt better, though his head was still mercilessly attached to his neck...his humiliation had not improved terribly. 

 

Mrs. Travis had done his laundry.  Who had stripped him of his clothes?  *Oh Lord please let me have done it myself....and not Mrs. Travis or The Judge.* 

 

He would never be able to repay them.....or look them in the eye.   

 

The Judge would no doubt have something to say to him on Monday.  Then, of course, there is always Mr. Larabee’s wrath.  Not that he didn’t deserve it.  What had been running through his mind?

 

Ezra shut his eyes and groaned.  Where was Josiah’s merciful God when you needed him? 

 

Footsteps sounded the arrival of someone into the kitchen.  The Southerner took his elbows from the table.  Poor manners on top of everything else. 

 

Standish gazed up when the Judge crossed the oak kitchen floor to the glass doors that led to the patio and pool.  He nodded an easy hello to the Southerner.  Standish smiled weakly back and dropped his eyes to the table top. 

 

A second set of steps hallmarked a new arrival. Ezra nearly gasped when the man emerged from the shadow.  Larabee.   Aww Hell...

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“ Ezra lets go,”  Chris straightened an arm across the front of the oak door. The carefully neutral tone kept everyone at bay.  Hackles remained down and postures somewhat relaxed.  Standish had yet to melt into the background.

 

Evie patted the undercover agent’s arm reassuringly.  She still tried to ease his obvious discomfort.  Though last night and this morning had not been pleasant for any of them, it felt good to help a friend.  Surely Mr. Standish understood that.

 

Ezra smiled weakly at the older woman.  His jaw and head hurt terribly but it started to dull as the little white bomb began to take effect.  The relentless pounding that had pulsed up and over his head and neck paled miserably in comparison to his embarrassment.

 

His boss had come to chauffeur him home. The Travis’s had stripped him of his clothes and put him to bed.

 

The Undercover agent took an unsteady step over the threshold onto the small brick patio.  The welcome mat stuttered the movement of his feet. 

 

Chris quickly latched onto his agent’s elbow. 

 

With the thankyou’s already uttered and the apologies plodded through, the two ATF agents descended the short three brick steps to the circular, gravel, driveway.

 

Ezra wished he could wrench his arm from Larabee’s grasp.  The glaring mid morning sun beat down on them.  Its early spring brilliance did nothing to soothe an aching head.  Standish found it easier to keep his eyes closed and let Larabee lead him toward the extended cab.

 

Orrin and Evie Travis stood in the threshold watching the two men. 

 

“You think he’ll be alright?”   Evie leaned against her husband, knowing he would be behind her.

 

The Judge watched as Standish struggled with lifting the door latch.  Larabee had already circled around the front of the truck and sat behind the wheel trying to give Ezra some of his independence.   Travis watched his two men carefully, silently hoping Chris would help his fellow agent.  The Judge nodded his silent approval when Larabee finally leaned across the seat and flicked the door handle. 

 

Standish had gotten uncooperative fingers to work the latch.  The fickle reflective onyx door swung open. 

 

“Mr. Standish’s pride will heal as well as his jaw,”  The Judge answered placing his hands on his wife’s narrow shoulders.

 

She chuckled softly. Then cocked her head slightly rolling her eyes toward her husband, “And what dastardly things did you and Mr. Standish come up with to retaliate for last evening’s misadventures?” 

 

Orrin chuckled quietly.  The grumble of his chest was drowned by the sharp ignition of the truck.  The Dodge hummed to life with a rolling sound of power.

 

“He has devious mind,”  Travis chuckled again remembering the careful conversation that had been waged in his study.  

 

The next few weeks certainly would get interesting.

 

The Dodge rolled passed the door step.  Gravel crunched loudly under its tires.   Chris inclined his head in gratitude toward the Judge and his wife.  Standish sat tilted back against the seat rest his eyes closed.

 

The truck disappeared down the quarter mile drive slipping between rows of high, evenly, manicured hedges.  Orrin gently ushered his wife inside the house and closed the door. 

 

******************************************************************************

part 5...I have seen the writing on the wall...

 

Ezra kept his eyes closed as the truck lifted itself onto the pavement.  The midmorning chatter of a Saturday filled this residential area.  The sounds of lawn mowers, kids playing, the clamor of radios and the distinctive pitch of voices and laughter blew in through the partially opened window.    

 

Standish sighed.  He was in hell.

 

Larabee drove, his right hand resting at the 12 position.  His left hand lay against the glass window.   The truck had become heated sitting in the sun.  He contemplated cracking his window even further.   The figure, seated as far across the bench as he could from Chris, appeared slightly chilled. 

 

Larabee would endure the heat.

 

Instead, Chris tried to untangle the events of last night.  What had gone wrong?  It seemed so simple.  Very simple in fact.  Some how they blew it.  Dropped the ball, as Buck would say.

 

What the hell was Standish doing out in the middle of the night wandering around the derelict section of Denver stoned out of his mind on pain medication?  The pain medication......the damn fools nearly overdosed him.  They had dished out those little white pills like candy, trying to soothe and moderate the behavior of a child.  No wonder the guy puked his guts out until his mouth bled.  It certainly came as no surprise that Mrs. Travis had to hold his head out of the toilet bowl as his body revolted against the undue amount of medication. 

 

He’d strangle his team...every last one of them.  Including Standish...just so that fool wouldn’t feel left out.

 

Damn.

 

Chris’s gaze drifted toward the undercover agent.  Standish sat leaning against the front door with his eyes closed. 

 

Larabee hit the door locks.  The hum of the engine droned on.

 

Ezra flinched slightly at the clunk of door locks hitting home.  His sense of captivity increased.

 

“You doin’ ok?”  

 

Chris’s soft question lay unanswered for a few moments.  Larabee tossed a quick glance at his agent.  Maybe he really had fallen asleep.   According to the Judge it had been a hellacious evening and morning. Thanks to the multitude of pills missing from the prescription bottle.

 

Standish cringed at the question, afraid of conversation for the first time in a life time.   The fading discomfort in his jaw, head and stomach, paled miserably to the thoughts running in haphazard turmoil through his fogging mind. 

 

He straightened himself up in the bench, trying to assume some control over his slipping posture.  He watched the scenery crawl by at a moderate pace.  Apparently Mr. Larabee worried about upsetting his passenger’s stomach.  A real concern.

 

“Mr. Larabee,”  Ezra licked at dry lips.  The tangible taste of last nights activities had yet to be truly disguised.  He rubbed at the edge of his chapped, lower lip with his thumb.  His hands still felt miserably heavy.  They even had a tremor all their own. 

 

Chris’s hand tightened on the steering wheel.  How could he possibly straighten this mess out? 

All they had to do was get him home.  Hell, if none of them could have done it, at least they could have stuck him in a taxi. 

 

Instead they had passed him off like a leper. Drugging him as they went down the line. 

 

“An apology is needed,”  Standish tried to focus on the greening lawns that boarded this quaint residential street.  A child raced his bike down the side walk popping wheelies with varying degree’s of success.   The smell of fresh grass should have filled the area...but right now the sharp bite of last night’s activities around the toilet still burned his nostrils. 

 

An apology?...Hell, Chris thought, an apology would be getting off easy.  He had failed his own agent.  Of all the men, why did it have to be Standish they dumped?  Not that the Southerner would throw a fit, none of them would do that.  The simple maddening fact was that Standish, above all people, expected that kind of treatment from everyone, friends and family.  Expected it so much that he waited patiently for it to happen.  It finally did. 

 

*An apology....oh yeah but a simple sorry somehow would not strengthen that broken trussle.*

 

“It was not my intention to impose myself on the Travis’s,”  Ezra felt his face redden, “ or to take advantage of their generous hospitality....or encumber you with chauffeuring myself back to my living accommodations,”  He turned to gage the expression on Larabee’s face hoping he could make amends.

 

Apparently he failed miserably.  *Wonderful.*

 

Chris’s blood boiled.  His knuckles blanched white over the steering wheel.  He turned his attention out his side window clenching his free hand into a fist.  

 

Larabee squinted his gaze back out the windshield. * The fool!  The damn fool!  He’s trying to apologize for last night? *

 

*How could he be so screwed up?  What ran through that muddled mind of his? *

 

He unclenched his teeth, “Gawd damnit Ezra,”  the hissed words fired across the cab of the truck. 

 

Standish closed his eyes wondering how he could fix this colossal mess.   All he had to do was acquire a cab home last night.  Not a difficult task, certainly something he had done countless times before in his life.  Dear Lord he had made an embarrassment out of himself and Larabee.  He certainly did not make a good impression with the Travis’s.  Dear Lord...

 

Ezra closed his eyes and leaned back against the window.   Maybe Chris would just drop him off and let it go. 

 

They had left the residential neighborhoods behind and now flowed with the heavier traffic of the small business district.

 

Larabee’s pulse raced up his neck.  He pursed his lips.  The light up a head turned yellow and then red.  They sat third in line.  A forest green Ford Explore sat in front of them.  The back compartment seemed stuffed with soccer balls and kids.  A few waved to them.  Chris lifted the corner of his mouth in a futile attempt at a smile and unpried two fingers from the top of the steering wheel. 

 

*Standish.....you dumb imbecile. You did nothing wrong...you trusted us.* 

 

Chris rubbed his shoulders as sweat trickled down his neck. 

 

Ezra watched Larabee from the corner of his eye.  *Maybe he should try again.* 

 

“Mr. Larabee...”

 

The light turned green.   The car full of kids shot forward. 

 

“Shut up Ezra...” Chris’s growl left no room for misunderstanding.  Larabee kept his eyes straight ahead. 

 

The kids in the Explorer squished their faces against the back window.  They dragged their lower eye lids down with fingers and stuck their tongues out giggling the entire time.

 

Standish nodded in defeat and leaned his head against the passenger window.  Mother had been correct, sometimes he could be quite burdensome.  He should have insisted last night at Inez’s to have gone home.  The others certainly were not responsible for him.  His predicament last night had been born purely out of his inability to control his situation.  He had lost his edge. 

 

Chris caught the stony expression from the corner of his eye.  Larabee had had it with the silent self degradation,  “Are you trying to apologize for last night?”  His quiet fury seared the pickup.

 

He glared at the frozen features of the kids in the Explorer.  Smiles faltered.    His scathing tone seemed to have been understood by the kids in front of them.  The soccer players,seeing his expression, suddenly turned in their seats and faced forward. 

 

*Least someone pays attention*  Larabee felt some satisfaction.

 

The incredulous tone of his voice made Standish wonder if his swollen mouth muffled his words more than he suspected.

 

“I was endeavoring to make amends for disrupting everyone’s’ evening,”  Standish found some hope.  Maybe Chris would take his simple utterance and let by gones be by gones.

 

“That’s it...”  Larabee slapped on the blinker, cut the wheel and pulled the truck roughly over to the sidewalk.  The pickup lumbered up and over the curb jostling the occupants of the vehicle left and right. 

 

Ezra squeezed his eyes closed and bit his lip.  This did nothing to ease a queasy stomach. 

 

Horns blared behind them as cars swung around the truck.  Larabee ignored the various hand gestures tossed in his general direction. 

 

Instead, Chris swiveled in his seat resting a forearm across the steering wheel and faced his undercover agent.

 

Ezra slowly unpeeled his eyes and watched as a few cars swung around the truck that straddled the sidewalk and slow lane.  “Perhaps Mr. Larabee it would behoove you to give other motorists a little more warning before taking a decidedly pedestrian route.”

 

Chris narrowed his eyes,  “Shut up Ezra ....just shut up,”  his frustration rose almost as quickly as the blushing in Standish’s cheeks.

 

“I don’t want your damn apologies...,”   Chris’s cell phone started ringing cutting off his tirade.  Larabee tried to ignored it.  Like Pavlov’s salivating dogs, it was difficult not to respond to the sound. 

 

Ezra caught his breath wishing for the hundredth time today that he could be somewhere else.  Anywhere else but here.  Maybe even back at the oral surgeons.  Anything....Gawd how could he make a mess of something so simple? No mystery as to why Mother had found it easier to just drop him and go.  

 

The phone continued to sound.

 

Ezra couldn’t take the dissecting stare of his boss any longer.  He needed to break the tension, “Do you intend on answering your telephone?” 

 

Chris jerked the phone out of his coat pocket, “Larabee.”  The one word fell like brimstone.

 

“What do you want Buck?”

 

Standish turned his attention back out the passenger window.  They were near the strip mall section of Denver.  The small shops that could not afford the rent of the inner city or malls.  A grocery store sat on the corner, a dry cleaner next to that and a Credit Union just adjacent to them.  Chris had just missed taking out a public trash barrel.  Pavement stretched for as far as the eye could see. 

 

“No, I got’im...gonna bring’im to his place,” 

 

Ezra tried to ignore the conversation. 

 

“Shit,” 

 

Standish tried to block out the frustration emanating from the man beside him. 

 

“No, no that’s alright we’ll go up to the ranch.”

 

Ezra closed his eyes despair and fury vied for an outlet. 

 

Chris folded up the phone and pocketed.  “Change of plans we’re gonna have to go to the ranch.” 

 

“I’d rather not,”  Standish spoke softly resting his head against the window in dejection.  Why did this have to be so complicated?

 

“Well you don’t have a choice,” Chris returned shortly.  Things never flowed as planned with his team. 

 

“I would prefer to return to my own abode, is that so difficult?”  Standish had half a mind of opening the door and leaving.

 

“That was Buck. Your apartment complex has no water, Fire Department had to have it shut off,”  Larabee watched as the quiet docile sheep beside him started showing fangs.  People will only allow themselves to be pushed so far.  Everyone had their limits.  Standish had been manipulated and ushered into a corner.  He raised his hackles and bared his teeth.  Chris found himself responding in kind but forced a more civil attitude. 

 

Chris tried for redirection.  Maybe meet Ezra on his playing field. 

 

“Someone in your building own a weasel or a ferret?”  Larabee asked with a smile.  It seemed the varmit had eaten through some electrical wiring, insulation, and somehow disrupted the whole water system. 

 

The question hung on the air for a little bit.  Then Standish released a sigh and shook his head.  *Why now? And what was Mr. Wilmington doing at his place?*

 

“Young Thomas, a few doors down, owns a weasel type creature by the name of Reese,”  Standish had unfortunately been asked to watch over Reese one weekend while the little boy and his mother took time to visit relatives.  The diminutive monster had a voracious appetite and an uncanny ability to escape his tiny habitat. 

 

“Yeah, well I guess they’ll be snaking for Reese in the pipes today and tomorrow while the Fire Department makes sure the fire alarm system gets re-wired. Least ways that’s what Buck and JD are saying.”   Larabee paused.  He noticed the raised questioning eyebrows.  Finally a spark of hope.

 

Chris casually tossed a meat laden bone at the feet of a skittish dog, “They were stopping by to make sure you were ok and to be sure you had decent food for the weekend.” 

 

The Southerner slumped in his seat grinding his front teeth.  Buck and JD...making sure he had decent food?  Why not drag Mr. Tanner along as well?  Ezra was convinced then he would have some HoHo’s, Yankee Doodles and soda for his weekend of soft food.  Some despondency flickered away,they had stopped by, a gesture of kindness. 

 

Apparently,though, all the kindness and good intentions were not getting him any closer to his apartment.  Once again he would be dragged off to endure the ovetures of an abused sense of duty.  Just as his relatives had to take him in so long ago...he was family after all. 

 

Chris witnessed the slumped posture.  “Its only for one night Ezra, I’ll get you home tomorrow.”  He hit the blinker and started to feed back into traffic.

 

“Of course,”  Standish closed his eyes and rested his head against the window wishing the door would suddenly spring open and he fall out. He’d find his own way home this evening.

 

Larabee could not ignore the biting sarcasm in the unconvinced answer. They might have stumbled last night as a group but they did not deserve this.  *You faithless son of a bitch.* 

 

Without warning, Chris cut the truck across the lane and back onto the sidewalk.

 

This time the ATF supervisor answered the raised finger gestures of passing cars with one of his own. 

 

“Mr. Larabee one should at least attempt and live with in the motor vehicle laws.....Driving is a privilege, not a right,”  Standish figured if Larabee swerved that quick again, his light breakfast would be all over the dashboard. 

 

“Ezra shut your mouth and listen to me.  I will get you home tomorrow,”  He faced the Southerner, trying to control his temper, “And I don’t want any apologies.... you have nothing to be apologizing for....You were damn lucky to have run across the Travis’s last night.”  The curt words filled the truck. 

 

*Ahh yes the infamous Lady Luck*, Standish mused.  “Yes, well then perhaps I should purchase a lottery ticket seeing how my Luck has saved me from such certain disaster.”  The cagey expression matched the scathing satire. 

 

Larabee suddenly couldn’t unravel who Standish struck out at...his teammates or himself?

 

Judging from the posture and words, it seemed the undercover agent only found fault with himself.  No one else.  He was suppose to watch out for Number One, been taught that all his life, and he had failed.  His dependency had grown to such a degree that he had been unable to get home.  He directed his fury inward.  He blamed no one but himself.

 

Larabee narrowed his eyes.  *The idiot.*

 

“I let you down, can’t change it, can’t do a thing about it....except make sure it doesn’t happen again,”  Chris stared at his agent wishing he could have eliminated some of the abruptness in his words.  *I gave you a second chance you bastard....give us the same courtesy.*

 

Neither broke eye contact. 

 

*A second chance? Is that what your asking for Mr. Larabee?*

 

Standish nodded acknowledging what he heard. Second chances meant getting burned a second time, Turn the other cheek to allow the other side to be slapped...

 

Chris had taken a risk and so far it had paid off....Ezra would make sure that it continued to as well. 

 

Reciprocity though? No.  Ezra’s stomach turned at the bitter memories of giving others second chances.  Always hoping that maybe next time around they would not disappoint him.  Bitter resentment and loneliness, as well as, empty pockets had hallmarked his foolish gestures of generosity. 

 

Mr. Larabee was undoubtedly made of stronger stuff. 

 

Ezra would rather keep his independence than feel the burning wound of disappointment from his six teammates.   

 

Larabee angled the truck back onto the road creating a space between a Honda Civic and GMC Blazer.  Chris had a sinking feeling.  He could see the strands of the rope slowly unraveling. The tether that cradled Standish within their group began to  fray.  *No one’s fault but my own*

 

Larabee would make damn sure something like this did not repeat itself.  He uttered the promise softly to himself. 

 

“I assure you, I will strive to ensure it never occurs again,”  Ezra reiterated quietly with resigned conviction. He wouldn’t allow it.  Mother might have been right after all.  FBI, ATF, ...Alphabet soup....different letters, same bitter taste.  *His own fault* The others had plans for last evening, he knew that in the very beginning and yet had imposed himself. With all honesty, he could only disparage himself.

 

Buck and JD had stopped by his place this morning....they taken time to make sure Chris would get him home this morning.  Chris had come to get him...again an act of responsibility. Perhaps Duty...Larabee could have just as easily requested one of the others fish him from the Travis’s residence.  But he hadn’t

 

Standish sighed quietly to himself.  Confused...disoriented.  How long had he held out for his mother, hoping for a change?   How long had he struggled for aid or a friendly gesture in Atlanta? 

 

Now, history smelled of repeating itself...but subtle differences peeked through.  Were they really differences or was he searching for friendly shapes in approaching storm clouds?  How far did he bend until he broke his own rules that protected him from the events that had nearly torn him apart in the FBI? 

 

His gut churned. 

 

Ezra stared out his window at all the normal people.   *Second Chances are like steadfast friends, Mr Larabee, they are out there, just exceptionally rare and even harder to grasp.*  Standish closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cool glass. He grew tired of holding on.  He would wait and watch but not venture forth into the outwardly placid waters of the ATF.  Rip currents most times were invisible. 

 

Larabee watched his undercover agent for a second and then turned his attention back to the traffic.  

 

Damn. 

 

 

 

 

The end.

 

Another Brick in the Wall Part 3 (Pink Floyd)                  

                                                                                         

I’don’t need no arms around me                                        

I don’t need no drugs to calm me                                       

I have seen the writing on the wall                                      

Don’t think I’ll recd anything at all                                      

No don’t think I’ll recd anything at all                     

All in all its was all just bricks in the wall                                               

All in all you were all just bricks in the wall.