
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10994934.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen
  Fandom:
      The_Magnificent_Seven_(TV)
  Character:
      Vin_Tanner, Chris_Larabee, Ezra_Standish, Josiah_Sanchez, Buck
      Wilmington, Nathan_Jackson, J._D._Dunne
  Additional Tags:
      Heavy_Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Underage_Sex,
      Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Triggers, Non-Consensual_Touching, Other:_See
      Story_Notes, Hurt_Vin, Missing_Vin, Presumed_Dead, Rescue
  Series:
      Part 1 of Mag_7_Continued_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-25 Chapters: 1/? Words: 11237
****** Blind Justice ******
by Katritam_(Scavenge4Dreams)
Summary
     He was dressed all in black; even his face had been darkened for the
     bust. His hair was a tangled snarled mess. His face was hidden behind
     shiny black duct tape, bruises and blood. To a child, he probably
     looked terrifying.
     Hating that he was scaring them, Vin dragged himself backwards with
     great difficulty and no small amount of pain, until he reached the
     wall and slumped into a crouch- trying to be less threatening.
     *Or the one where blindfolded and beaten, Vin is held prisoner with
     the abducted child victims of a sex trafficking ring*
Notes
     So, I haven't posted for Mag 7 for many a long while, but I've been
     working on this particular story for ages - its the blindfolded
     kidnapped Vin story referenced in my comedy/drama piece Psychobabble
     that so many people expressed an interest in seeing in full. It's now
     finally at a stage where I'm comfortable to start posting. so please
     enjoy.
     TRIGGER WARNING: Please take note of the tags and warnings for this
     story. It does deal with the sexual, physical and mental abuse of
     children, and adults. I have, to the best of my ability, treated the
     subject matter with respect and realism, and I have also avoided
     anything too overtly graphic, but the subject matter is definitely
     very prevalent to the story and has a huge impact on characters
     personal arcs.
See the end of the work for more notes
                                        
===============================================================================
                                        
                When the helpless suffer and the innocent die.
               When hope is long forgotten and the children cry.
                                When somewhere?
                                A plea, a sigh…
              And a man wakes in darkness, of depravity and sight
          And he gathers to his heart, these children lost to light.
                                  And heroes?
                             Heroes always fight.
===============================================================================
Part 1: Angels Fall
"For god's sake Ez, it's just a cold, not the damn plague!" Vin moaned as he
shoved his hands deeper into the opposite sleeves of his sweater. Hunching
against the bitter breeze, he followed Ezra up the short stretch of pavement.
Keying his code into the security system, Ezra unlocked and stepped into the
sheltering warmth of his home, turning to hold the door open for his friend,
who was busy studiously stomping every drip of grey sleety slush from his
boots. With a put upon sigh, Ezra reached out, fisted a handful of damp wool,
and with a sharp tug, propelled Vin into the room, shutting the door behind
them.
The southerner chose to view the sparkling blue eyes as a result of the fever
Vin had no doubt developed, rather than amusement at his encouraged breaking of
Ezra's usually inflexibly enforced rule of 'mud and muck out – or you'reout'.
Definitely the fever.
Speaking of, as he shed his damp suit coat, Ezra answered the muffled complaint
he probably wasn't supposed to have heard, "So. You admit that it is a cold
then. And here I seem to recall you assuring me it was 'just the sniffles' as
we left the office earlier."
Giving in gracefully to Ezra's 'clicky fingers', Vin shrugged out of his own
coat, handing it off to the grinning southerner as he sighed, caught by his own
words, "Yeah, fine. I have a cold. Just a cold. I don't need to be seeing no
doctor."
Hanging the leather monstrosity next to his own tailored coat, Ezra was
strangely bemused by how reassuring he found the utterly ridiculous visual
image. His eyes mapped the battered, scarred surface of the pale tan hide,
supple and treasured, rubbing sleeves with his own barely worn, and completely
impersonal, dark grey cashmere.
"As reassuring as I might find that, Mr Tanner, the last time you had 'just a
cold', you still managed to end up in hospital with pneumonia." Ezra
disregarded the slight twinge of guilt at the pink that stained across the
already flushed cheekbones, the fathomless fear of hacking coughs and
breathless gasping still fresh horror in his memory.
Vin ran his fingers through damp windswept hair, shuddering as dislodged
droplets of snow crawled their way down the back of his neck with icy fingers,
his voice not nearly as biting as it could have been, as he answered, "I know.
I was there too, remember. That's why I'm here."
Ezra snorted inelegantly, but good grace settled over him as he replied, "Not
quite true. You seemed rather content to hide out at our office. You're here
because I stumbled over you and asked."
"Asked! Was very hard to say no when the only other option was hospital." Vin
shot back, bending to loosen the laces on his boots, ignoring the temptation to
toe them off, knowing that it would weaken and stretch the leather and end up
costing him more in the long run when he had to replace them sooner.
Slipping his own loafers off neatly by the door, Ezra looked down, watching
shaking fingers peek from overly loose sweater cuffs to pick ineffectively at
tight wet laces. Almost forgetting his trademark groan of discontent, he
dropped down with a sigh, gently shouldering Vin's hand and upper body out of
the way. He ignored Vin's scowl in favour of silently assessing the fact that
the Texan was suddenly several shades paler.
Half to take Vin's mind of his less than completely independent state, let
alone the fact that apparently he didn't even have to be completely
independent, and just because he was naturally curious, Ezra asked, "You also
had one further option. I did offer to convey you to the ranch".
Vin all but cringed, and Ezra stilled in response, his full attention turning
to whatever had upset the young man, "Vin? Did something-" he started to ask,
but Vin relaxed with a shake of his head, his hands once again carding through
tangled hair as he answered.
"What? No, Chris is just..." Vin bit his lip, before continuing, "Chris just
really ain't in the mood for company this week, Ez."
Ezra nodded, understanding immediately.
Chris and Sarah's anniversary. Adams birthday. The day Adam called him 'daddy'.
The last day he spoke to them. The day they died.
Ezra didn't know which one it was, but he understood.
They all did, and while Chris had certainly clawed his way (or been dragged
kicking and screaming by one particularly stubborn Texan) back from the dark,
sometimes all the light in the world wasn't enough to illuminate certain
shadows.
Ezra also knew, that come hell or high water, Chris would have accepted Vin at
the ranch in a heartbeat. Tonight or any night.
But sometimes, you just have to face the shadows alone.
Turning back to the laces, Ezra levered one boot off and reached for the other,
but stopped when Vin's hand settled over his wrist and the he spoke, accent
more pronounced around the unsure words.
"Iffn I'm- I mean… I know you 'preciate your 'lone time after work and at the
weekend and I don't wanna cause you an-"
Ezra took over, his own imitation of a Texan drawl something to marvel at or be
terrified by, as he interrupted, "-any grief. Don't wanna mess up your house. I
can always stay at the office or go home o-", Ezra paused his stolen Vin-spiel,
hands still firm about one slim booted ankle.
Green eyes found unreadable blue and Ezra continued in his own voice, "Except-
no, you cannot go home, because your home has no power and it's below freezing
out, and you cannot go back to the office because I've got spare bedrooms to
spare and spare care to spare and my 'alone time' doesn't apply to family."
Possibly realising that he'd said more than he'd actually intended, Ezra
coughed slightly to cover the odd burn in his chest and added a pointed, "So
there.", as he yanked off the second boot.
Vin just grinned, accepted a hand up and allowed himself to be herded into the
'living room'. He was pushed down onto one of the ridiculously soft couches and
promptly half-swallowed by mink blankets and afghan throws, as Ezra used a
little more of that 'spare care' he'd alluded to a moment ago.
"Can I interest you in an evening meal?" The southerner asked, after he'd
retuned with a glass of water and the small stash of Vin-safe medication that
all seven kept at their various places of habitation, on the off chance
(certainty) that they'd somehow (don't ask how) end up playing host (prison-
guard) to a less than well (half-dead) Texan.
Eyeing the meds with distaste as he downed the water, and all but snuggled
deeper into his cocoon, Vin shook his head as he replied, "No thanks, I'm not
really hungry. I'll just, uh- go to sleep", and he rolled over, smooshed his
face into the back of the couch and seemed to do exactly that.
Ezra stared for a moment, not sure that the mischievous prankster wasn't having
him on, but when the soft snuffling snores of a slightly congested sharpshooter
reached his ears moments later, he shrugged, and although not convinced the
other man could actually breath adequately with his face half devoured by the
couch, at least he was warm and comfortable.
Flicking the light out behind him, Ezra padded out of the room on quiet feet.
===============================================================================
Several hours later, bringing it to a more reasonable 11pm bedtime for
undercover agents, Ezra slipped back down the hall and into the lounge, setting
the lights to 'dim' and turning on the one closest to the hall, and not
directly over the sofa.
The spreading glow of soft artificial illumination revealed an empty seat.
Not willing to panic just yet, having done so a few winters ago at Chris's
ranch one evening, only for several pyjama clad men to find Vin asleep out on
the back porch 20 minutes and much frantic worry later.
Ezra turned the lights up slightly and stepped further into the room, calling,
"Vin?" softly.
No reply greeted him, and he turned to check the most likely suspects, i.e. -
the bathroom, the kitchen, the balcony or the rooftop.
And almost walked into the largest pile of ambulatory laundry he'd ever had the
misfortune of almost walking into.
Actually, and this was such a small distinction that Ezra didn't really mind
the misidentification, he'd almost walked into Vin wrapped in at least four of
the blankets, sleepy blue eyes and a few errant curls the only visible
features, even mouth and nose tucked beneath layers of cotton, mink and wool.
The blanket monster blinked, and a slightly bamboozled sheen joined the sleepy
fog. A rather muffled, barely audible voice somehow managed to ask, with
remarkable clarity, "Ez?" as if Vin couldn't quite work out why his friend was
in front of him.
Despite the inherent amusement, and perhaps some form of very masculine
adoration that Ezra felt for his bewildered friend, it was underpinned with a
decent level of niggling worry as well, because Vin was one of the most astute,
sharp-minded men he knew, and this confusion was slightly concerning.
"You are spending the weekend at my locale, as you yourself are without power
and amenities at your apartment- remember?" he asked, waiting patiently as Vin
worked through the words and then relaxing as comprehension dawned and settled,
blue eyes becoming more or less focused, if a little glassy.
"Yeah- I rem'ber. Sorry, was sleeping. Ez- It jus' me or's it cold 'n here?
M'be ya jus' got cold blankets…" Vin asked, eyes riveted on Ezra, waiting to
accept whatever answer the other man gave.
"Cold?" Ezra raised an eyebrow. The whole complex was internally heated, and he
always had it set on a pleasant compromise. As far as he was concerned, the
temperature was quite agreeable.
But then, he wasn't running a fever.
"My oversight Mr Tanner, I should have turned on one of the bedroom heaters for
you. I shall remedy this oversight immediately, but for now, why don't
you…shuffle... your way to the kitchen and I will get you some tea to warm
you." Ezra suggested, turning the cooperatively nodding mountain of blankets in
the right direction, before ducking back down the hallway.
The second bedroom from his own wasn't the largest, didn't have the highest
state of technological advancement, nor was it the most well lit, instead, the
average sized bedroom had a gorgeous view from its full wall sized window, of
the sprawling wooded mountain in the close distance.
Ezra flicked the heater on and ramped up the thermostat, wanting the room to
warm quickly so he could get Vin back to sleep as soon as possible. He also
turned down the bed and placed a glass of water on the bedside table. Just
because it seemed prudent to do so. He managed to stop short of fluffing the
pillows. Mostly.
A strange sense of Déjà Vu swept over him as he entered the kitchen to find it
empty, but a quick traverse back down the hall found him stumbling across the
blanketed form leaning against the dining room window, staring out at the hazy
glow of stars.
"Come on, you can see the stars form the kitchen window as well, I assure you."
He teased gently, grinning at the much more switched-on look (glare) Vin shot
him as they moved at a slow shamble to the kitchen.
With Vin parked at the table, Ezra flicked his coffee machine on and left it to
prep, turning to lean against the counter and look at his impromptu houseguest.
"What brand of tea would you prefer, Vin?" he asked, wondering if the younger
man might like plain black tea, or something on the calming side.
"Coffee?" came the unexpected, yet completely predictable answer.
"Tea. Black tea, Camomile tea or Nathan's tea. Any tea." Ezra responded, his
answer firm, because there was no way he was giving Vin Tanner coffee, when it
was steadily approaching midnight, never mind the fact that the man was sick.
Vin grimaced, the disdain clearly visible in his eyes, as his muffled voice
replied, "Don't much like tea. Unless…"
"Unless?" Ezra prompted gently, hearing the almost hesitant undercurrent of
Vin's voice.
Shrugging, Vin answered with forced nonchalance, "Have you got any with lemon?"
Ezra's gentle query of, "Your Mother?" was met with an almost shy nod, and they
lapsed into silence as he hunted down the unopened box of camomile and lemon,
leaving Vin to one of so few pleasant childhood memories.
When Vin shook the memory clear a moment later, and offered him a grateful
smile, Ezra wasn't sure whether the gratitude was for prompting the memory in
the first place, or not pressing for more details. Either way, he returned the
smile with one of his own.
The comfortable silence was broken when Vin heaved a sigh and burrowed further
into his blankets. Ezra was sure he could hear teeth chattering and he opened
his mouth to ask how Vin was feeling, but the other man beat him to it.
"I'm fine." was the pre-emptive answer, and the sparkle of wicked blue eyes
said he was well aware what he'd been about to be asked.
With a shake of his head, Ezra pulled out a seat and dropped down beside him,
replying, "I didn't ask."
"But you were 'bout to." Came the matter of fact reply as Vin leaned forward to
prop one elbow on the table and rest he head against his raised hand. It all
looked very odd beneath the pile of blankets.
Ezra nodded his capitulation, adding, "I surrender unto worship of your
astonishing foresight, Oh great and noble Tanner. Who, apart from being this
tremendous psychic, is also a lying liar. Unless fine is the new description of
a fevered, headache stricken, shivering, fatigued, excessively stubborn and yet
wholly compassionate individual."
Vin nodded half-heartedly and mumbled "Exactly."
Ezra grinned in reply, but turned serious for a moment as he voiced what he'd
been feeling since he'd somehow managed to convince Vin to come home with him
earlier that evening, "Seriously though. We both know how quickly these things
can turn on you. With that thin Texan blood of yours…I don't suddenly want to
be dealing with bronchitis or similar. I really think you ought to allow me to-
"
"No! No doctor. I ain't-" Vin broke in, interrupting with adamant refusal,
underpinned with fear that Ezra could barely detect. Vin was unwilling to
budge, and unwilling to be made to budge.
Ezra sighed, continuing, "It's alright. I wasn't going to suggest calling a
doctor."
Vin settled back into his relaxed slump, head pounding anew after the sudden
rush of adrenaline.
Ezra added, "I was going to suggest calling Nathan."
Ezra, always fascinated by human reaction, noted that the underlay of fear of
the suggestion of medical assistance was no longer present, and he
congratulated himself on being right. It wasn't the idea of being checked over
that was unsettling Vin, it was the medical profession itself.
As curious as he might be, and as much as he hoped that one day Vin would tell
him what the fear stemmed from, today was not going to be that day. Not when
Vin was off his game and ill, vulnerable, and under Ezra's protection and care,
despite neither one having said any such thing.
Tonight Ezra would just focus on the other side of the equation.
Vin trusted Nathan.
"Just to be on the safe side. Mr Jackson seems quite determined to keep you in
one piece and I doubt he would begrudge a call regarding your health", Ezra
continued.
Vin sighed, obviously torn. On one hand, he honestly did trust Nathan. He might
have bigger issues than a fish in a desert, as far as doctors and the like were
concerned, but as far as friends went, Nathan was as solid and dependable as
any he'd ever had.
It would also make Ezra feel better. Obviously, what with the way the man was
hovering over him like some mama bear.
Vin wasn't telling anyone, but he kind of liked it.
Different to Chris's overprotective guff, or Nathan's blistering tirades that
always just sound like "I care" to Vin…but it had the same unfamiliar warmth to
it.
But then…
"Nathan's with Raine this weekend, remember? Treating her to a romantic dinner
and relax'n getaway. Don't wanna be no bother. Its jus' a cold." Vin answered,
eyes flickering back to the table, somewhere in the vicinity of his blanket
covered hands.
Ezra sighed, because he'd love find the person who taught Vin the word 'bother'
and punch their front teeth out. And while he was at it, words like 'burden',
'inconvenience' and 'hassle' too.
He wouldn't even care if blood got on his best suit.
"Nathan wouldn't- actually, he probably would mind… but I'm sure he's going to
minda whole lot more if you end up with pneumonia again." Ezra tried to reason.
Vin, though, had made up him mind, saying, "Nope, Just a cold. I'll drink some
of that tea, take some of thosepills, and sleep till lunch. But I ain't
bother'n Nathan."
And a Vin who had made up his mind was a stalwart creature, impossible to be
persuaded, convinced, or bribed.
They could however, on occasion, be bargained with.
"I'll make you a deal. 102 degrees is considered a mild to moderate fever. If
your temperature is over 102, I call Nathan", the Southerner bargained, his
keen gaze riveted on Vin.
In some ways, it was almost a challenge.
The way Ezra said it, it was definitely a challenge.
"I guess 102's runnin' pretty warm. And me bein' the del'cate flower I am…I
s'pose that's fair", Vin yielded.
Ezra fetched the thermometer, and after a miraculous revelation of a whole head
beneath those blankets, he'd had to marvel, because, for the first time in
recorded history, a conscious, sound-minded Vin Tanner, let a digital
thermometer be placed under his tongue with nary a word of complaint, nor one
scowl.
Nathan was going to pay a veritable mintfor this method. Hell, if Ezra was
feeling charitable, he might even let it go for a steal, like say… one of
Nathan's steak sandwiches.
While waiting, rather than sit and stare at Vin and his thermometer, which
could very well turn out to be a rather dangerous pastime, Ezra set about
filling two cups, and procuring the tea bags.
Turning back to the table, preparing himself to be hunted by dark malevolent
eyes, Ezra instead had to smile at the tousled head that was pillowed on folded
arms, slumped across the table, blue eyes closed.
As if feeling the scrutiny, Vin mumbled around the protruding thermometer, "I'm
sti' awake, sto' star'ng."
Ezra snorted again, something that he was starting to notice Vin brought out in
him, as he replied, "Stop speaking, you're still recording". As he finished, a
small metallic beep proved him wrong.
The thermometer was out of Vin's mouth before Ezra could say anything, and blue
eyes scanned the small digital surface, before he looked up and said, "So. Over
102 and you're callin' Nate?"
Ezra nodded, reaching for the thermometer, which Vin clutched to his chest as
he continued, "You promise? If it's not over 102, I can just stay here?"
Ezra stilled, wondering where this was coming from, or going, but answered
honestly, "You are of course welcome to stay here, even should we end up
requiring Nathan's expertise, but regardless, I give my word Mr Tanner. "
Vin nodded at the unexpected reassurance, but his words were calculating as he
spoke, "How far over 102?" risking a glance up at his con artist friend.
Ezra kept his lips from twitching as 'got you'ran though his mind, and gently
prying the thermometer away, he carefully enunciated, "Point. One. Degree."
Looking down, his eyebrows twitched as he read 102.
A perfect 102.
Ezra was held vigorously to his word.
Nathan was not called.
"The size of that cup is not concealing the width of your smirk, Mr Tanner"
Ezra quipped, hiding his own amused smile behind matching tea cup.
===============================================================================
Fingers cradled around comfortingly warm porcelain, Ezra relaxed back in his
seat, the soothing taste of chamomile chasing the burst of subtle lemon across
his tongue. Midnight chimed from the old grandfather clock that he kept locked
up in his office, a hidden sentimentality. The rich mahogany and golden accents
were mere youthful symbolism, heavy with once-upon-a-times yearnings and
longings, for stability, roots, family.
Cravings he barely cared to remember, that were never fulfilled.
Until now.
27 years old and he was, for all intents and purposes, living in the lap of
luxury. His apartment was certainly on the higher end of the market, boasting
everything from heated flooring to environmental control. The four bay garage
was host to just one vehicle, but his baby was hardly 'just' a vehicle. His
bank accounts were more than healthy, enabling him to live his life with every
thinkable modern convenience and personal extravagance he could wish for.
And yet?
The one thing that made him feel richer than the average man, was sitting
across the table from him.
One of his friends.
And the fact that he could use a plural in regard to that subject would forever
blow his mind.
This friend in particular though, struck a chord deep within Ezra: of
camaraderie, protectiveness, admiration, exasperation…of brotherhood.
This man across the table from him; a taciturn loner, as hard and unforgiving
as the wild rocky landscapes he loved, and as cold and dangerous as the prairie
animals his spirit embodied. Quiet and self-contained and reserved.
Sitting across from him, bundled up in blankets, head pillowed on one arm, blue
eyes gazing at him sleepily through the rising steam of his barely touched tea.
The friend who'd put himself out of his own home, paying for the power and heat
of two destitute neighbours, despite knowing that this would result in his own
power being left unpaid, leaving him to the mercy of the frigid December
weather.
And now, cold, tired and ill, Vin still smiled across at him, that look of
slight wonderment on his face; as if a bed and a cup of tea were of the highest
value. As kind and generous as he was gentle and spirited, Vin Tanner was
without a doubt one of the most infuriatingly wonderful people Ezra had ever
met.
And with five others who equalled him in many different ways, Ezra knew he had
just as extravagant taste in friends as he did anything else.
Only the best.
As if sensing the deepening of his thoughts, Vin shifted slightly, breathing in
the heavy steam trails, and said with a low drawling rasp, "Stop looking at me
like I'm some saint. Mrs Carlyle has three little'uns and Mr Humphries is as
old as the sun. 's just the right thing to do. I know you'd have done the 'xact
same thing."
Ezra allowed himself a forgiving nod, because it was true; he would have paid
the power in an instant, but it wouldn't have left him penniless. Like it had
Vin, who'd still done it.
He could tell himself that it had been based on a decision wherein Vin thought
that being the tough young male specimen he was, that cold winter nights would
have no impact on his health.
Yet he knew the truth was that not helpinghadn't even crossed Vin's mind,
consequences be damned.
Determined that Vin should hear what he had to say on the matter, but not
willing to belittle what the man had done, Ezra spoke with gentle firmness, "A
saint? Perhaps not. But it was still a very kind thing to do. If rather ill
advised, for as much as you may not want to hear it, I am selfish enough and
honest enough to admit that I value your life, my friend, over that of Mr
Humphries and Mrs Carlyle... and her children. And I won't hear differently
from you on the matter, who seems to believe that every life is more valuable
than his own."
Vin didn't say anything, which only confirmed Ezra's words. The Texan had just
learned not to argue issues like this one, as he never won.
Ezra went on, "It is a trend within our group, perhaps even in a certain
percentage of the human race, to place higher value on the lives of other than
our own, but while it would upset me to hear that Mrs Carlyle's children had
died... It would be an inconsequential blow compared to your demise."
Vin had the good grace to blush, as he said, "Wouldn't want nothing to happen
to you either Ez... But Mrs Carlyle's little ones are weaker and more
'sceptible to the cold..."
"And you're the big tough ATF agent who's impervious to bullets, knives and the
weather... who is currently in my kitchen, looking decidedly peaked." Ezra
snarled, but continued as Vin's face fell, "My apologies, it was not my
intention to harp. I have nothing to say that you have not heard many times
over. There have just been too many close calls Mr tanner, and I would be
devastated should one in the future hit its mark and take you from us."
Vin sighed, "I know, but I had no choice. I couldn't just let-"
"I know you could not Mr Tanner, and would never ask it of you. All I want to
press home is that you could have come to one of us...to me, for assistance."
Vin was silent, caught in yet another instance of being too independent, too
cautious and untrusting, and didn't know what to say.
Ezra took in the hooded blue eyes tracking nothing past his left shoulder, the
slight vibrations of barely noticeable shivers and the heightened colour over
pale cheeks, and took pity on his friend.
Rinsing his own empty mug, he reached for Vin's mostly full one, saying, "To
bed I think, Mr Tanner. Inhaling the steam is only good for so long as there is
steam to inhale, and it must surely be growing cold. I certainly don't wish you
to chill along with it. Neither do you, not if you wish to avoid Nathan, next
time we test your temperature."
"Next time!" Vin mock wailed, "What next time?" gratefully allowing the
uncomfortable subject manner to fade as followed Ezra from the kitchen,
blankets dragging across carpet and hardwood in his wake.
===============================================================================
When Ezra stumbled his way out of bed at 7:30 am on Saturday morning, unable to
ignore the pressure of imminent bladder explosion any longer, he was mildly
surprised to find that Vin was still asleep in the room two doors down.
For Vin, who usually rose when the horizon was still dark, and inhaled his
first cup of coffee with the dawning of each day, to be still in bed at this
hour, told Ezra more about his state of health than the man himself ever would.
Ezra's own reputation as a distinctly not-earlyriser, would also have taken a
hit, had any of the team been present that Saturday morning, to witness as he
showered, dressed and brewed coffee, all before 8am.
Sipping his first, and most definitely much needed mug of his favourite
aromatic brew, Ezra knocked gently on the door to Vin's room. Seconds later, he
knocked harder, growing faintly concerned when there was no response from his
unwell house guest.
He'd knocked a third time and spoke aloud, calling, "Mr Tanner? Is everyth-"
The door swung open, Vin speaking groggily, "Huh, Ez? Wha-", he cut himself off
in surprise as he tried to step back quickly to avoid Ezra's raised fist
thumping against his chest, but only managed to stumble over the blanket he'd
decided to drag from the bed for the meter long trek to the door.
Quickly altering his knock to a grabbing motion, Ezra started to stabilise the
tottering Texan with a hand to the shoulder. Upon moving his focus up from the
blanketed upper body and seeing the sleep-bruised eyes and the sheen of sweat
beading of a wash of grey chalky skin, he changed his course of action and
propelled Vin across the room, until the younger man hit the bed and he plopped
into a seated position.
The southerner blanched at the same time Vin did, although for decidedly
different reasons. Vin's sudden grimace was likely in direct correlation to the
way he swayed where he sat, Ezra's more in reaction to his wondering if Nathan
would kill him when he found out that he'd been an accomplice to Vin's 'avoid
Nathan' course of action.
All but dropping the half full cup of coffee onto the bedside table, Ezra used
his now free hand in a much more useful manner, namely waving it about
frantically in the air as he spoke, "How did this- You look terrible! Sit-
just…Mr Jackson is going to have my innards for outers! Oh-"
Vin just stared, wondering what had Ezra in such a state.
Finally, and only when Ezra seemed set to start hyperventilating, Vin cut in,
"Ez? I'm fine."
At least that served to calm the other man down, although, unfortunately in
didn't last long.
Ezra breathed in deeply, a settling breath. Then he did it again. Then he
spoke, although admittedly, he didn't sound very settled. "You're- You're
fine?!Fine! You look like- Okay. Sit. Be fine. I'm going to call Mr Jackson. "
Vin had been sitting relatively still, watching his friend overreact with some
level of ingrained amusement, always there to be gained at the expense of those
who dealt with him on a regular occurrence. At the mention of calling Nathan
though, he suddenly had a lot more to say.
"No. you can't- I." Vin said, agitatedly pulling slightly away from the hand
still resting on his shoulder.
Ezra stilled his restless fidgeting, a level true calm settling over him as he
realised that Vin was actually attempting to put distance between himself and
the crazed version of his worried friend. His voice was much more reasonable as
he replied, "You look like death warmed over- much worse off than last night. I
really think-"
"Your word, Ez" Vin's voice was firm, the words simply spoken, yet a certain
level of expectation echoed them.
Vin was willingly still again beneath his hand, trusting.
His word.
Shit.
Nothing meant more to Vin that the sanctity and honour of his word.
Therefore, Ezra's had to mean the same. Did mean the same.
"Sit. I'll get the thermometer. 102, Mr Tanner", with a look that was
unreadable, yet somehow still managed to promise dire consequences should Vin
die before he returned, Ezra swiftly left the room, suddenly veering to the
left as he remembered that the thermometer had been left in the kitchen the
previous evening.
He was back in record time, especially considering he'd taken a detour to fetch
his mobile, sure he'd be needing it shortly to call Nathan.
"Right. Shall we proceed?" he handed the thermometer to a much disgruntled Vin,
who scowled at him as he uncapped the small thermometer, frowned as he waited
for the small electronic chirp that indicated it was prepped, grimaced as he
placed it under his tongue and glared at Ezra the entire waiting period.
Swiping the still beeping thermometer from his mouth, Vin looked to the digital
readout.
And smiled.
Ezra snatched it from him, manners be dammed, and with a boggled shake of his
head, stared at the recoding.
102.
"No Nathan, then?" Vin asked with a smirk, as if he'd deliberately skewed the
data by withholding his temperature or s-
Ezra stared at him with growing speculation and suspicion for a moment, and
then shaking the nonsense from his head he grudgingly agreed, "No Nathan."
Vin grinned with such abandon, that Ezra was sure Nathan would be offended if
he'd seen.
"Yet." Ezra added, and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Vin's
smile faded, and wary blue eyes met his.
"Yet? Why-" Vin asked.
Recapping the thermometer, he lightly tapped Vin on the head with it, as he
said, "I have reason to believe you are going to become very good friends with
Mr thermometer. 'Every 2 hours' type of friends, I should imagine."
Ezra paused in placing the thermometer on Vin's bedside table, taken slightly
aback by the absolute look of death the innocent little device was getting.
Thinking better of it, he tucked the thermometer into his own pocket and turned
back to Vin.
"Sit. Your temperature may be just under mildly worrisome, but I'm afraid I
cannot say the same for your physical appearance. To put it mildly Mr Tanner –
and in the words of our own illustrious leader, no less…You look like shit."
Vin, successfully distracted from thoughts of thermometer destruction, grinned
at mention of Chris, and replied, "'s just a cold. I've had worse. Maybe you
should sit, Ez…considering you've told me four times already... and I've been
sitting the whole time."
Ezra opened his mouth to argue, but upon realising that Vin was quite correct,
setted for simply agreeing, dropping down onto the mattress beside his still
grinning friend.
Nudging Vin with his shoulder, Ezra said, "If you could see how you look, you'd
be telling yourself to sit. Are you sure you feel- well, like you are not about
to expire within the next few moments, because I really do not think my poor
heart could take it."
Shoving back with more enthusiasm, Vin answered, "-actually feel a bit better
than last night. Headache. Tired. Kinda light headed. I'm good."
Rolling his eyes at the added, 'I'm good' to the end of that sentence, Ezra
leaned back, examining his friend a little closer. Keen eyes picked up on the
slight sheen of sweat, which could probably be explained by the blanket Vin was
still wrapped in. The pale skin looked ghastly, but considering how tan the
Texan usually was, it was perhaps a matter of contrast.
Vin definitely looked ill, but not like he was knocking at deaths door, begging
to come in.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Vin quipped, shoulder shoving Ezra again,
the wicked gleam in his eyes not hiding his discomfort at the steady scrutiny.
"Is this your best side?" Ezra asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and
snapping a quick picture.
Vin just stared for a moment, and then burst into laughter, doubling over
slightly as he choked on cough interspersed chuckles.
Ezra grinned, glad to have so thoroughly pulled Vin from his discomfort.
Getting to his feet he said, "Some Tylenol for the headache then. And, if you
are agreeable, perhaps a few more hours sleep, seeing as how some buffoon woke
you earlier by knocking on the door."
Vin screwed his nose up at the offered painkillers, but remembering hisword
from last night, didn't say anything as Ezra left the room.
Fetching the box of Tylenol from the bathroom cabinet, and a glass of water,
Ezra returned, stepping back into Vin's bedroom, just in time to see his friend
down the last of his coffee, from the bedside table.
"Wise move, Mr Tanner. If you are trying to exacerbate your headache." Ezra
said mildly, hiding his smirk in response to the Vin's slightly guilty but not
repentant look.
"Wasn' worth it anyway – tasted like crap. Need ta learn how ta make decent
coffee, Ez" was Vin's matter of fact reply.
"Not decent coffee! Decent! That was my imported Italian espresso! You wouldn't
know-" Ezra's tirade came to an abrupt stop as he watched Vin's lips twitch and
eyes sparkle.
"Mr Tanner, You are without civility. Take your Tylenol." his words were sharp,
but the mirth in his green eyes matched Vin's.
===============================================================================
The Texan spent most of the weekend sleeping, staring morosely out the window
at the gorgeous, if cold, blue sky and weak sunlight, sniffling, discarding
used tissues and hogging Ezra's hot water. In short, he was miserable –
intermittently sweltering or chilled, battling a runny nose, coughing up a lung
and rasping around the beginnings of a sore throat, but he didn't really get
any worse.
Not that Ezra wasn't unfailing reliable in checking his temperature every few
hours, yet unfortunately - or fortunately - depending on which man was asked,
Vin's temperature stayed at a steady 102, all through Saturday and well into
Sunday.
Nathan remained completely unaware, Ezra remained carefully attentive and Vin
remained considerably unconcerned.
There were moments of heightened worry, which tested Ezra resolve to hold to
his word, so close had he come to calling Nathan.
Vin's coughing fit Saturday evening, during the Monty Python marathon on TV had
been particularly terrifying, Ezra sure that he was about to be picking the
fibres of his luxurious carpeting from one of Vin's lungs when he hacked it up.
Vin had been red in the face, eyes blown wide as he'd tried to gasp a breath in
between the coughing. It hadn't helped that he'd also been unable to stop
laughing, and gasping "'s just a flesh wound!"as he'd coughed.
Finally, a glass of water and a blast of freezing air from the balcony had done
the trick, settling his diaphragm back into its usual pattern.
Monty Python had been exchanged for the tried and true 'Die Hard' and that had
been the end of that.
The only other incident that would make his account, should he end up reporting
this to Nathan, or god forbid, Chris, was the midnight awakening on Saturday
night.
His, that is. Vin had been asleep.
Dreaming.
Whatever had caused the soft whimpers, half muffled by the tiny ball Vin had
managed to curl himself into, couldn't possibly be pleasant memories.
Ezra had stared from the doorway contemplating the best course of action.
Should he try to wake Vin and comfort him – no, Ezra ultimately decided, Vin's
mortification and absolute humiliation would far outweigh the level of comfort
he thought he could provide. Chris on the other hand….
Chris. Should he call their leader? With the frequency of Vin's visits to the
ranch, there was no way that Chris wouldn't be aware, wouldn't have a method of
dealing with this. But again, no, because Ezra wasn't willing to inflict a
grieving, angry Chris on an emotionally sensitive Vin, on the minuscule off-
chance that he made the situation worse.
In the end, the decision was taken from his hands when Vin seemed to settle,
uncurling slightly.
But Ezra added it to his mental list, because if he could work out a way to ask
Chris inconspicuously, perhaps he would feel less useless than tits on a bull
next time.
Sunday morning, Vin seemed wary at the breakfast table, but soon relaxed when
Ezra gave no indication of what he had seen.
As with the sudden easing of the nightmare, Vin's illness seemed to fade as
Sunday night approached, most symptom's, including the fever, sniffles and
cough had eased off by late Sunday afternoon, and Ezra was glad that he hadn't
been inadvertently responsible for enabling another 'chest infection' debacle
like the year before last.
Still, the younger man wasn't exactly 100% by Monday morning, still unusually
pale, and tiring easily.
Ezra had assumed Vin was still asleep when he'd risen early Monday morning,
showered, dressed and scrawled a quick note for his guest. Later he'd wondered
how he'd expected anything other than Vin, fully dressed at 8am, to meet him at
the door, ready to go to work.
===============================================================================
Ezra arriving at 8:30am, half an hour after their official start time, was
nothing to look twice at.
Ezra arriving at 8:30am with Vin, their resident 'early-riser' in tow, caused a
bit of a stir among the troops.
Buck was leaning against JD's desk, one hip hitched up, allowing him to rest on
the surface. He stared at the pair for a second and then a wide grin broke
across his face, turning toward Chris's closed door, he yelled in a rather
pretentious voice, "Chris!- Chris? CHRIS!"
A thud was heard, possibly of a coffee cup being slammed down on a hardwood
desk, followed by heavy footsteps, the door was flung open, and Chris stalked
out, snarling, "What?!"
JD had that deer caught in the headlights look, freezing mid-step on the way
back from the break room, only relaxing when he realised that Chris's dark look
was directed toward Buck, and not himself.
Josiah looked up from his paperwork, and then promptly tucked his head down and
made himself verybusy.
Nathan paused in repacking his field first-aid kit, and then, with a shake of
his head, added several more bandages to the already staggering amount.
Ezra planted his feet, refusing to be cowed, raising a haughty eyebrow that was
sure to notsooth Chris's ire.
Vin, having the self-preservation of a mayfly, and the sense of a lemming,
sniggered, but his gaze was entrenched firmly on the smiling face of the
equally insane Buck.
The ladies' man grinned, and with an overdramatic gesture towards Ezra and Vin,
his voice smarmy as he tattled, "Chris! Travesty! Oh, tragedy! Ezra has
corrupted our young Vin. He has made Vin late. Vin. Late."
Chris's look seemed to darken if possible, and he turned towards the two in
question, "Well. With him I have given up cause to hope. You, on the other
hand. Late, Vin?"
All brave amusement fled as Vin realized that he was being put on the spot. No
way he could admit that he'd been sick, not told anyone, had Ezra find out,
stayed at Ezra's, not told anyone, run a 102 degree temp all weekend and then
come to work this morning.
"Mr Tanner had yet another dispute with his reticent vehicle this morning, and
came out on the losing side. I was simply tasked with conveying Mr Tanner to
our place of work." Ezra injected smoothly, drawing Chris's attention to him
and away from the man who was both his and Chris's best friend.
Vin looked obviously relieved, which should have given Chris his first clue,
but it said a lot for the man's state of mind that he simply nodded with a dark
look, and turned back to his office, throwing over his shoulder, "Well, call
next time!", and slammed the door behind him.
Heavy silence settled over the outer office, the five men looking from the shut
door, to each other and back again.
Chris's muffled shout of "Get back to work!" encouraged them into motion.
JD shoved Buck off his desk as he sat, and the big man slipped around and slid
into his own seat, reaching for a file with a vaguely apologetic look Vin and
Ezra's way.
Nathan sighed, added a third pair of tweezers and started counting anti-
bacterial wipes.
Josiah just kept his head down, focused on his paper work, half of which he
thankfully handed off to Ezra as the agent passed his and Nathan's area.
Ezra added the purloined paperwork to his own dwindling pile, sitting and
reaching for the uppermost form.
Vin headed for the break room and real coffee.
===============================================================================
The others had spent the morning being relatively well behaved and miraculously
quiet, mostly out of deference to their boss's black mood. Paper work was
churned out at a frankly alarming rate.
Vin spent the majority of the morning avoiding drawing Nathan's attention to
himself, keeping his head down over the paperwork he really didn't touch,
wondering if maybe he should have just stayed home. Chris was in a foul mood,
and it would be anyone's guess how long that would last, and what was he
torturing himself for anyway- it wasn't as if the man would careif Vin didn't
show u-
Okay. So that wasn't true. Vin knew that Chris cared, but surely it wouldn't
kill the man to look at Vin and see that his best friend wasn't exactly feeling
on top of the w-
What on earth was he thinking? He didn't want Chris to know he'd been sick. He
didn't.
Besides, if he'd stayed home that morning, or as the case may be, Ezra's home,
he'd have had to call in sick this morning anyway, and then it would have all
been for nothing.
Nope, best just to avoid Nathan and let Chris avoid everyone.
It was then that Vin's gut dropped to his toes in a foreboding sense of
instinctual, "got a bad feeling about something" way, and the phone on Ezra's
desk rang.
The 'undercover' phone.
===============================================================================
The phone rang again, and with barely a glance of preparation to the others,
Ezra clicked the speaker button.
"Looking for Rick Stonton", said a deep gravelly voice.
At the sound of the man's voice, the other five watched in disturbed
fascination as their 'Ezra' disappeared before their very eyes.
The undercover agents face went alarmingly blank, eyes closed and body still,
and he held the clean slate for a second, before quickly hunching over just a
bit and tilted his head slightly to the left instead of his usual right.
He opened his eyes to reveal cold, hard glacial green, in a pinched and mean
looking face.
Ezra answered, his voice dripping disdainful oil, "ItsEric, Mr Sholn. To what
do I owe this pleasure?"
The voice came back, slightly more respectful, "Eric then. Boss wants to know
if you're still interested in moving a crate."
Ezra scrawled on a pad by the phone as he answered, "I may be interested…surely
you can understand my hesitance though. Not three weeks ago I was informed that
such a thing would be an impossibility."
He shoved the note at Josiah.
It read 'Get Chris.'
Josiah moved, his sizable frame silent as he rushed over to Chris's door,
entering without knocking. It was easily apparent why Chris's law enforcement
abilities were so well respected, when, despite his mood, he merely looked up
when Josiah barged in. With one glance at the note he followed the man into the
outer office without a word.
Moving around to the far side of the table so Ezra could see him without having
to crane awkwardly, Chris nodded to show he was ready for whatever Ezra needed.
The voice on the phone was speaking, "-had a potential customer prove disloyal
and refused to do business with him. Zander Donnelly suggested you. Are you in,
or do I need to tell Keir- uh. I mean, um- Do we need to look elsewhere? "
Chris's eyebrows shot up at the man's near stumble, naming his boss on an open
connection, because surely that name hadn't been- Ezra scribble on the pad
again, and Chris read upside down as he did so. 'Trask.'
Chris felt his pulse jump, adrenaline suddenly flooding his body.
The Trask Family.
One of Colorado's most prolific crime organisations; the Trask family was a
multi-tiered, cleverly-immersed criminal element, with an extremely well-funded
baseline, allowing a hand in everything from credit card fraud to drug
trafficking.
A sprawling web of interconnected criminal elements, each with its niche in the
market wound up like an insect, waiting to be bled dry. And at the centre of
this sticky web of money, blood and death, sat the spider - Damon Oliver Trask.
The eldest son of a well-to-do family, Damon Trask had been handed everything
in life on a silver platter – up to and including the humble beginnings of a
modest crime organisation.
From those humble beginnings, he'd built an empire.
An empire that various bureau's had been trying to topple for the past 10
years, with little to no success. Only by severing the head of the beast would
it ever truly die, and Damon Trask; through a volatile mix of shrewdness and
cruelty, had proved time and time again, to be untouchable.
Until now.
Because if Chris was correctly deducing the one sided conversation, they were
about to bust Kieran Onsk. If intel was correct, Onsk was the recently
appointed, right hand man to Damon Trask himself, and most notably, also
Trask's only child.
Perhaps the untested heir was the way to unseat the King.
Ezra scrawled something else as he spoke into the phone, "No need to look
elsewhere. When and where?"
' B & B warrants.'
Chris nodded, his suspicions confirmed – Ezra was organising a buy.
Flipping Ezra's notebook open fully, and putting pen to the newly revealed
page, Chris started a list of required administrative and practical procedures,
his hand bumping Ezra's as they wrote on the mirrored pages.
He stilled his writing as Ezra tapped his pen pointedly against his own side,
indicating with just his eyes that whatever he'd written was of great
importance, and a raised eyebrow showing that he required his team leader's
sanction to proceed.
' Tonight – 11pm – Docks'
Chris grimaced.
A bust of this importance really necessitated several days, if not weeks, of
preparation and planning. Time to dot all the i's and cross all the t's. Time
to assess the ramifications of the team's formation, and make an educated
decision as to the players. Time to allow Ezra to immerse himself fully in his
undercover persona.
Half thinking through the measures needed to sanction a bust on such short
notice, Chris tried to determine if it was even possible. Deciding, with the
right team and right back-up, that it was, it all boiled down to one other
thing.
Did he trust his team?
Chris nodded, giving Ezra the green light.
===============================================================================
The office was an organised cacophony of sound and movement; phone
conversations held in assured, confident voices and physical preparation in the
form of flack vest fittings, communication device tests, and first aid and
equipment checks.
Chris hit send on the last of the required paperwork, watching as the fax sent
the 'URGENT Interdepartmental Notice: Bust and Buy Warrant. ATF (Team 7) & 'K.
Onsk' (Trask Corp.)', informing all other bureaus, as well as police and
marshal departments, of the impending buy and subsequent bust, so that if
another department happen to be either monitoring, or stumble across the buy,
the chances of friendly fire decreased.
Checking the received notice, Chris filed the final copy, before stepping into
the outer office. Seating himself at Bucks desk, he waited expectantly, as one
by one, his men filed into formation in front of him, most standing or leaning
against desks.
Josiah was the last, patiently completing a phone conversation before moving
across the room to join the others.
Once all six sets of eyes were directed towards him, Chris, his dark mood
completely replaced by deadly calm efficiency, started to reason out their best
option for the response team.
As the mind behind whatever elaborate cover story they were using, as well as
the agent most in the spotlight, Chris put the first ball in Ezra's court,
asking, "Ezra, you've got the buy – what backup do you think you can get away
with? I'd prefer you go in with at least two."
Ezra looked up from his contemplation of the ring on his left hand, a sneer in
place as he answered, "I hardly think it will be necessary, however it wouldn't
be untoward for someone such as Eric Stanton to have two bodyguards."
Chris didn't comment on the tone, nor the haughty mannerisms, understanding
that Ezra was already 'submerging'. 'Submerging' was the agent's term for the
mental process he went through when donning a disguise, and the ring was the
most integral part – an ugly corruption of twisted black tungsten and copper
wiring, the ring served as his 'focus'. While wearing it, he was not Ezra.
Nodding, Chris looked over his men, mind rapidly settling size/threat level
ratios, before he asked, "This Kieran – does he have any racial prejudices?"
Raising an eyebrow, Ezra answered, "I doubt he'll have prejudices against Mr
Jacksons 6'4, Doubly so if Mr Jackson is supported by our 6'2 supremely white
Mr Wilmington."
Nodding, Chris turned to the men in question, saying, "Nathan and Buck will go
in as your bodyguards. Vin-"
"I'll be in the rafters." Vin cut in, his blue gaze heavy on Ezra, daring the
undercover agent to disagree.
Ezra's reply was as dry as the Sahara desert, and twice as empty, "Naturally".
Chris raised an eyebrow at the byplay, but saw Ezra's fingers twirling the mess
of metal about his finger and put it down to the agent trying to stay in
character when faced with his best friend stepping into danger.
Which was the point Chris addressed next, turning to Vin, he said, "There's a
possibility that the warehouse is already being watched. Your sneaking in could
blow the op." He held up a hand when Vin started to argue, adding, "I'm not
going to send them in without close contact back up though, so you're a go,
just be careful."
Vin nodded, swallowing against the tickle in his throat as he answered, "I'll
leave now, get set up as early as possible."
Chris nodded his agreement, replying, "Take Josiah as back up until you're sure
it's clear. JD, Josiah and I'll be in the Van."
Josiah was nodding, but JD looked like he wanted to argue, despite knowing the
lead up to an unplanned bust wasn't the place.
"What, JD?" Chris' prompted, quite willing to listen to whatever the young man
wanted to say, knowing that JD's youth didn't lessen his contribution value,
although it did lessen his confidence in his own value.
JD quibbled for a second longer before fairly bursting out, "The Fraleu Case –
You said I needed to start getting some bust experience."
Chris raised an eyebrow, he remember the conversation, and JD was right he
hadsaid that JD was ready to start taking a participative role in some of their
more low key busts. Low key being the operative phrase. "It's not the right
bust JD – You're not quite seasoned enough to pull off the deadly killer
bodyguard yet. Something less-"
JD cut him off, "No! I know that – they'd never take me seriously as a
bodyguard. I meant I could take Vin's place. I'm getting really good – even Vin
says so."
Chris was silent for a second, thinking. It was true that JD had been setting
some serious hours with Vin on the range, and even more alone. And hadn't it
been just the other day that Vin himself had said the kid was actually a
talented marksman. It was to be a small bust, three to five expected felons,
and with most expected to give themselves up at the first sign of law
enforcement.
It was a reasonable request, and Chris went to say as such, but Vin's quiet
voice broke the silence first, "No. Not this one."
All six men turned to look at Vin, and JD replied, "But Vin, I ca-"
Uncharacteristically rude, Vin cut the younger man off, his voice firm in its
refusal, "No. I'm doing this one. " His steadfast refusal to back down, and his
complete lack of discomfort at their bamboozled staring was strongly indicative
of the truth in his feelings on the matter.
Chris thought about cutting in, deciding for them, but bonds were often
strengthened through controlled dispute, and it was very unusual for these two
to clash at all, let alone for Vin to be so unreserved in the effect of his
opinion.
AT Vin's seeming lack of willingness to listen to reason, JD changed tack, and
aiming at what was usually a much truer target when attempting to sway Vin, his
conscience, JD said heatedly, "Were you just saying that I'm good? That I'm
getting even better!? Just stoking my inflated ego! Come on Vin, I can do this!
You know I-"
Vin didn't rile, anger or shout back, but he certainly didn't back down,
replying firmly "I said what I meant. You're good. Good 'nough for this bust.
I. Don't. Care. You're not goin'."
JD gaped at what he thought was wholly unreasonable behaviour, and the
expressions on several other faces said the young man wasn't alone in his
thinking.
JD opened his mouth to shoot something back, but Chris interrupted him by
grabbing Vin by the arm and ushering him over to the window, where a very
short, very tense conversation took place.
JD saw the instant Chris came down on Vin's side and he shot a dirty glare at
the sharpshooter. It was odd though, because instead of anger or smugness, the
look he received in return seemed more relieved than anything else.
The two re-joined the rest of the group, Chris saying, "Ezra's got the buy.
Nathan and Buck- body guards and Vin on high. JD and Josiah in the van with
me."
JD looked down, disappointed and upset, but not willing to take it any further.
No one argued with Chris when he spoke like that.
Except maybe Buck, but then, Buck was Chris's oldest friend, and surely that
allowed him some leeway. Nathan might also argue with Chris - regardless of how
he spoke- if the man was injured. Josiah had a way of arguing without actually
arguing, and by the time the conversation ended, it was almost like whatever
opinion the preacher held was the same one Chris had held all along. Ezra would
argue with a fence post if he thought it might get him what he wanted. And Vin
was insane enough to call Chris 'Cowboy', and more importantly, get away with
it-he'd argue with Chris if he wanted to.
Well, JD didn't argue with Chris when he spoke like that.
===============================================================================
Nathan crossed his arms across his chest with the express intent of making
himself appear even bigger than his already ample girth managed. Intimidation
was a fine art, and despite not being one he was well practised in, it was one
that came naturally, thanks to his sheer physical presence.
Like every bad movie, the buy was going down in the shadiest part of the city,
in what had to be the most disgustingly foul, rat infested, dock warehouse in
the country.
Standing two feet behind, and one to the left of Ezra, Nathan had an
unobstructed view of everything that was occurring in the grimy filth of the
badly lit warehouse.
Buck was mirroring his own position to Ezra's right, also effecting a much
darker than normal persona. The jovial smile was replaced with pressed lips,
and the sparkle was gone from his eyes, creating a façade of grim intensity. If
Nathan hadn't see that thin mouth break wide in torment and teasing, hadn't
seen them impart complete nonsense upon expecting teammates, and the (very)
occasional words of wisdom…he'd be completely taken in by the dangerous persona
Buck was exuding.
Nathan himself had opted for more the lower end of the market. It was easier to
be overlooked observing, when said observation was mistaken as mindless head
lolling. The best way to achieve mindless lolling was for everyone to think you
were dimmer than a blown light bulb. Nathan knew with certainty that his
carefully unfocused and widened eyes, as well as the heavily dropped jaw made
for a very dull looking face, because Ezra had been the one to teach him the
technique.
Speaking of Ezra, the other agent wasn't doing too sloppily in the dangerous
category either, but it was a different type of dangerous; one that his 5'10
frame didn't have to maintain. The persona of Eric Stanton was that of a
slippery snake that would sooner turn and strike than hide in some dark corner
somewhere. The sharply cut suit was completely unlike what Ezra would choose
for himself, the lines much too severe to accommodate any measure of kindness,
and his hair was severely slicked back, changing the shape of his entire face,
leaving him angular and almost gaunt looking.
The chill in the green eyes, and the coldness of his bearing were all Ezra
though, and not for the first time, Nathan was stunned at the talent the
undercover agent possessed.
And looking at the character Ezra was currently tangling with, Nathan was
thankful that Ezra was so good at his job.
Kieran Onsk was an ugly, ugly man. And Nathan didn't mean his stylishly cut
black hair, smoothly chiselled features or young, well cared for body.
Nathan meant his eyes.
Flat, pale, grey, and if the eyes truly were the window to one's soul, than
this man didn't have one.
And for the first time that evening, Nathan was so very glad that Vin was the
one in the rafters above them.
Nathan had been all for allowing JD to get some hands on experience during a
bust. He already trusted the young man with his life, and knew that he could
take Vin's confidence in JD's ability to handle a rifle to the bank.
There would also have been the added bonus of not having an already unwell Vin
shivering in the frigid early December air.
The medic almost snorted as he thought about how obvious the younger man had
been in his quest to avoid Nathan all morning. The avoidance was what had
alerted Nathan to the fact that something was amiss. Vin was usually
unfailingly polite, and to have him suddenly ignoring Nathan's every attempt at
conversation, practically running from the room in one case, had drawn his
attention rather than distract it.
He'd seen that Vin was unwell from almost the moment he'd arrived in the office
with Ezra. High colour at the cheeks, and a sweep of slight paleness over the
rest of his face a telling enough sign for someone intimately familiar with the
form of Vin's medical ailments. Someone like Nathan.
He'd let it go, because contrary to popular belief, he wasn't anyone's mother,
and certainly wasn't responsible for his teammates with more stubbornness than
good sense.
Vin also hadn't been coughing, his eyes had been clear and Nathan had seen the
Tylenol that Ezra had pressed upon the younger man as he'd passed the break
room at one stage.
When he'd first stepped into the frigidly cold warehouse, his second thought
had been to wonder if he maybe should have insisted that Vin stay in the van
for this one, only too aware of the susceptibility of the Texan's ridiculous
lungs.
His first thought had been 'Damn it's cold.'
Before he'd even had time to think about thinking about maybe letting Chris in
on his thoughts, already imagining Vin's utter fury, the other door had opened
and Onsk and his men had arrived, and to work they'd gone.
Right now, Eric Stantonwas in the middle of 'checking' the merchandise, while
Onsk waited with alarming patience.
Nathan subconsciously geared up, drawing his slightly wandering thoughts
tightly back home, focusing intently on what was happening before him, knowing
that Ezra was getting close to closing the deal and giving the signal that
would bring the rest of the team down on them like avenging furies.
He pinpointed the biggest threat on the opposite side of the buy, a huge bear
of a man, whose hand had sat on the butt of his gun during the entire
proceedings. He was also, alarmingly, the closest to Ezra. Nathan sized him up
and dismissed him, knowing that Vin's sights would already be on the most
dangerous, he selected a second target, this time a rat of a man to Ezra's far
left, directly mirroring Nathan's own stance.
With nine others as back up, the predicted five felons had proven a grave
misestimate, but Nathan was still confident that with careful execution, the
Seven could handle what was about to come.
Which was why, as Ezra shook hands with Onsk and moved to handoff a briefcase,
the roared shout of "FBI FREEZE!" was a particularly unwelcome spanner in the
works.
===============================================================================
To say things went 'to hell in a handbasket' would have been seriously
understating things.
The crack of gunfire echoed the cacophony of shouting, and suddenly bullets
were flying every which way. From the corner of his eye, Nathan saw Buck drop
to the ground, his hand coming up to rest over his head in the universal sigh
of 'surrender', and Nathan prepared to do the same, rather than risk
exasperating the situation.
And then he saw that Onsk, the clever, viscous bastard, had managed to find
himself a human shield.
And of course, that human was Ezra.
Keeping his hands well clear of gun at the small of his back, not wanting to
risk one of the good guys shooting him on the 'gun in hand' principal, Nathan
edged closer to where Onsk was dragging a valiantly resisting Ezra towards the
door.
A warning wasn't going to work. Shouting for Onsk to 'give in' wasn't going to
cut it, not with the level of noise that echoed in the bullet riddled
warehouse, and not over the shouting that was coming intermittently over his
radio as the ATF team desperately tried to locate the Feeb's channel.
The rifle bullet kicking up concrete dust between Kieran's feet seemed to do
the trick, though and he froze, gaze shooting upwards, just as a second bullet
smashed a light bulb directly above his head, and shattered glass rained to the
ground in a startling cascade of glinting sharpness.
Ezra used distraction to smash his elbow into Kieran Onsk's nose, and dive
toward Nathan.
The crackling haze of his radio suddenly flared into a full audio accounting of
the disaster of a bust, JD having apparently hacked into the FBI channel. His
voice easily overwhelming the nasally undertone of whoever was speaking on
behalf of the FBI, Chris's demanded firmly, "ATF & FBI – fall back
immediately."
Sidling toward where Buck was in the hands of two idiots with 'FBI' emblazoned
jackets, Nathan snarled as he found himself equally corralled by a third idiot.
Knowing they had to get out of the firefight ASAP, he allowed the indignity of
being shoved toward the nearest exit, his fist clenched in expensive silk
reassuring him that Ezra was being dragged along in their wake.
Surprised at the lack of bullets kicking up dust around them, or heaven forbid,
biting into their flesh, Nathan chanced a look back, and grinned with
exasperated gratitude.
The medic nudged Ezra, and gestured upwards, whispering, "Angel on high".
Ezra's eyes joined his as they reached the door, watching Vin scamper across an
inch wide rafter, covering their retreat as he moved steadily towards his own
exit, a hole in the roof at the far end of the warehouse.
And then, in an instant of a moment, of a lifetime, everything changed.
One gunshot seemed to echo louder than the rest, and a kaleidoscope of emotion
ate through Nathan and devoured Ezra.
Because Angels fall too.
End Notes
     And we're underway! I tried to ease people into this with a decent
     dose of fluff to set the scene, but things are about to get very
     dark, very fast- I promise a satisfactory ending, if not 100% happy.
     Once again, no Beta - so don't hesitate to point out errors if so
     inclined :)
     Love to hear what people are thinking if you have the time to
     comment.
     Happy Reading :)
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