Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Chris didn't return to the office like he had planned that morning. After they had wheeled Ezra away, Larabee intended to return to the Federal building and get an hour's worth of work done and wait for the hospital to call. The uncertainty and unmasked trust that Standish portrayed kept Larabee in the small recovery room. He phoned Vin to let the others know what he was doing.
Chris sat beside the bed and watched his agent sleep. When they had wheeled Standish back into the room, he had lifted his head up off the pillow and tried to sit up. The nurse easily forced him back down, "Go back to sleep, Mr. Standish ... you aren't ready to be moving around." Her voice was soft and the chuckle belied her command. Ezra laid back, his heavily hooded eyes found Larabee and then he fell back to sleep.
Chris waited patiently as Standish began to stir again, an hour later. He rubbed at his right leg. A white blanket covered him and an IV fed his right forearm. He swiped at it absently not sure what it was but knowing it didn't belong. Chris gently deflected the sluggishly moving hand. "Leave it alone Ez," he gently intoned.
Standish blinked and stared at him, trying to make his mind register what his eyes fought to focus on, "Chris?"
It was quiet and slurred but Larabee easily recognized the attempt at his name.
"Yeah, Ezra. I'm right here ... just be still," Chris directed holding the right arm down. Standish kept unconsciously trying to rub the IV out on the bed rail.
Ezra rolled his head and noticed the rest of the room; well that what fell within his immediate focal vision. It consisted mostly of Chris and a curtain and a window. It was snowing. Denver. Standish rolled his head back toward Larabee. "Snow." A simple word for a simple observation.
Larabee smiled, Standish was fighting the anesthetic much the same way he fought everything else, redirection and subtly. "Yeah Ez, it's snowing again," Chris agreed. He watched the eyes roll slightly close and then struggle to open.
"Chris?" The hoarse slurred southern accent put a decidable twist on the name.
"Still here, Ezra. Just get some sleep" Standish tried to nod as his eyes closed but he drifted off before he could finish the simple move.
Standish woke to someone on the phone; it sounded like Larabee. "Yeah, told him to go back to sleep an hour and a half ago and now he won't wake up." There was a chuckle followed by, "I'll call ya when we get going." There was a click as the phone was folded up.
Ezra focused his eyes and found Larabee staring down at him, "Didn't think you'd ever wake up." Chris was glad to see his agent a little more coherent.
Standish nodded, not sure what he was agreeing to but nodded just the same. Chris was still here, so things were still all right.
The nurse stopped by and smiled down at her patient. He had been pretty cooperative so far; but then again he was under anesthetic and his boss sat beside him. "How ya feelin'?"
"Leg hurts," Standish muttered trying to rub at his knee. It burned and with each passing moment it increased with volume. He didn't recognize or register neither the bandages nor the brace that ran from mid thigh to lower calf.
The nurse smiled and put something directly into his IV catheter. His eyes closed again.
Larabee chuckled. Standish could sleep like the dead on a good day, with all the medication on board, he would be a walking zombie.
Thirty minutes later, Larabee musings came true. The nurse returned asking Ezra if he were ready to go home. Standish nodded yes and even mumbled out an affirmative. Ezra, with a lot of effort from Chris, wrestled on the T-shirt and sweats. Chris lifted each of Standish's bare feet and put on the socks and sneakers. Standish just sat slumped on the side of the bed too dazed to feel humiliated.
The nurse came back and offered the agent crutches. Ezra shook his head 'no'. She asked if he were sure. Standish asked if it were still snowing. 'Yes it was,' She had answered. Larabee smiled to himself. Ezra's mind was coming back on line. The southerner replied that crutches, snow and himself would *not* mix and he'd just wind up right back here.
Larabee had to agree with him. It was sound thinking.
Chris had Ezra wait while he went to the pharmacy for Ezra's pain meds. Standish merely nodded and lay back down. When Larabee returned he had to wake Ezra up. Chris shadowed Standish closely as he hobbled down the hospital corridors and outside toward the truck. It took a bit of figuring on Standish's part but he eventually deduced how he could climb the running boards and enter the vehicle with one stiff leg. Larabee again stood close by but let the man regain some of his independence.
Larabee waited patiently as the southerner fumbled with the seat belt but eventually clicked it home.
"You feelin' all right?" Chris asked as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. He glanced briefly at his agent and then pulled into the mid-morning Denver Friday traffic.
"Yeah," Standish answered. He sat up in the passenger seat taking in the surroundings. "Where we goin'?" He asked quietly. Ezra just wanted to go home. Be in his own place and get over whatever they had given him. Though he felt fine, he felt disconnected. Things were seemingly just out of reach. His mind didn't work near as fast or agile as it should have, his leg should hurt he was positive of that, but it didn't. Nothing seemed quite right. He didn't like the sensation but couldn't really fight it or get angry about it. It should have bothered him but in all honesty, Ezra just didn't have it in him to be upset.
"Back to my place," Larabee answered slowing down for a red light. He knew Ezra wanted nothing more than to return to his own apartment. Chris couldn't blame him. Standish would much rather recuperate by himself. Larabee began to suspect it might not be the dependency that bothered the younger man so much but the fact others were around to witness him not in control.
He heard the tired sigh but with no argument forthcoming Chris knew he made the right decision.
The cell phone rang. Chris had his phone out and open before Standish realized what the tiny shrilling sound was actually a phone. Ezra didn't bother listening to the conversation, instead he was attempting to devise a plan of escape from Larabee's lodgings.
Larabee hung up the phone, put on his blinker, and changed directions and headed back to the office.
"Ezra ... we've got to go to the office for a bit ... you gonna be all right?"
Chris was forced to turn and watch as his undercover agent nodded his head in grim consent.
The elevator slowed and settled to a halt on the twelfth floor. Larabee grabbed Standish upper arm and steadied the slumped agent. His energy seemed to have peaked and was quickly sliding back toward empty. He didn't release his grip as he guided the younger man out of the elevator and down the hall. Standish didn't fight it. He limped slowly beside his boss hoping everyone would be somewhere else.
Buck and JD gazed up from their desks as Chris rounded the corner with Standish.
" Ey, Ez ... how's the leg?" JD asked.
"Fine," the response was mumbled. His neck didn't seem strong enough to support his neck and it bent under the weight. So much for wishing for an empty office.
"They give you good drugs or what, Ez?" Buck laughed watching the unsteady man get steered toward Larabee's office and full length leather couch. The sweat pants were way to long and gathered at the runners. Buck narrowed his gaze and recognition flooded him. Those were his sweat pants; he must have left them at Chris's awhile ago. Damn, Ezra must have been really drugged to be wearing something from Buck's wardrobe.
Chris smiled and shuttled the undercover agent into his office. Vin opened the office door and stepped aside as Standish shuffled past.
Larabee led him over to the couch. "Just lay down here, Ezra. As soon as I wrap up things here, we'll get going," Chris said easing the younger man down on the couch.
"I'm not tired," Standish answered slightly perturbed. He could still get some work done and prove to these guys that surgery didn't effect him to the degree they suspected.
"Humor me," Larabee responded removing the conman's winter coat and easing him back onto the couch.
"Not tired," Ezra tried again. He felt something get placed under his head but couldn't figure out what; it didn't really matter. He would lie here for a few minutes until Chris quit nurse-maiding him and then he would get up go to his desk and get some work done.
Josiah entered the office with a blanket from the closet in the break room. He tossed it to Chris. Larabee draped it over Standish after tucking the coat under the gambler's head. Standish, for all his talk, was fast asleep.
"How'd it go?" Josiah asked. He had been worried. Not much openly phased the younger agent but the idea of surgery seemed to have struck a frightening cord in the man.
"It went okay," Chris answered leaving the office and closing the door. "He came close to bolting a couple of times but held himself in check."
Sanchez smiled nodding knowingly.
"What's going on with the Judge?" Larabee asked. Josiah filled him in on the details as the others headed for the conference room.
Ezra didn't remember falling asleep. He did recall not wanting too. Damn drugs. Now someone was talking to him telling him to wake up. 'Make up your minds, one minute--get some sleep, the next moment they're trying to haul your ass around.'
'Who are they?'
Buck sat on the edge of the couch and nudged Standish again. "Come on Ezra ... time to git up," Wilmington shook the sleeping man's shoulder. The eyes unrolled then fluttered closed.
"Close, pard' ... but ya gut to git up ... time to go home," Wilmington nudged the shoulder with a little more vigor.
Buck watched his friend for a bit trying to gauge how hard to push him. JD, Buck and Vin were going to drive Ezra up to Chris's. Travis needed Larabee for a few more hours. It was already pushing one in the afternoon. The snow was coming down in horizontal sheets; traffic would be bogged down tonight. Larabee didn't want to force Ezra or Vin to sit through that hardship. Josiah and Nathan would stay and help Chris and the Judge.
Buck and JD had picked Vin up this morning for work. With his arm as bad off as it was and with the potential of hydrocodone in his system, Chris was unwilling to allow the sharpshooter to drive. If he wanted to man a desk that was fine, but no driving and no guns. Vin balked only slightly but agreed to the rules.
"Ez, lets git ya outa here," Buck shook the undercover agent's head. This was productive. Wilmington smiled as the gambler crawled sluggishly from the depths of a drugged slumber.
"That's it, pard' ... lets git you home," Wilmington eased Standish into a sitting position carefully sliding the injured leg off the couch.
Buck smiled in sympathy as Standish tried to make heads and tails of a world kept just out of his reach. "Your doin' okay, pard'," Buck reassured as he fitted slack arms into the parka Chris obviously lent him.
"How ya feelin'?" Wilmington asked as he tried to zip up the coat. It proved tougher than it looked; the angle was all wrong. 'Aww, hell ... it weren't that cold out.'
"Fine," The slurred response.
Holding onto Buck for support, Standish gamely pulled himself to his feet. His leg still didn't hurt. It felt pretty good really.
"Hey, Buck ... you ready to blow this popsicle stand?" JD practically shouted as he poked his head around the corner. He and Vin had shut down the computers and cleaned up the break room and were ready to go. It was Friday, they got to leave work early and best yet, it was snowing like crazy. On top of it all, tonight was pool night at Chris's. It was normally a round robin with the final two always being Chris and Ezra. With Ezra out, maybe JD would have a chance of winning.
"Yeah, kid. We're coming now," Buck stepped aside and let Standish walk unassisted. He appeared steady enough, just slow and methodical.
Dunne followed beside Buck following Standish and Tanner. Vin hung protectively at the gambler left arm ready to support him if he should falter. Ezra, for all his observations, could have been on the moon.
"Damn, Buck. We could git Vin an' Ez back for all them pranks they've pulled on us," JD whispered as they headed toward the elevator.
Buck smiled tolerantly speaking softly but with a no-room-for-discussion tone said, "No, kid ... that wouldn't be right."
"How come?" Dunne asked. This would be the best time to get back at those two. They would never see it coming.
"Ezra's depending on us, whether he knows it or not, to look out for him right now when he can't look out for himself," Buck said his voice dropping low enough for just JD to hear. "Besides Vin's gonna skin you alive when he finds out you've been mess'n with his computer," Wilmington pointed out casually.
Tanner for all his bravado and confidence still viewed the world through painful eyes. His quiet wit had been dulled with the pain. Wilmington and other's recognized it and watched patiently as the sharpshooter struggled through reports and routine office duties. He might have had all four cylinders on but only half were lit.
Buck knew Dunne was a good kid and an even better agent and friend. Push came to shove, he knew JD wouldn't pull a fast one on Ezra or Vin until both agents had both feet firmly planted on the ground. Dunne didn't have the protective wolf teeth of Chris or Josiah or any of the others but he was developing them. Soon Dunne's puppy-like bared teeth would become as fearsome and effective, as Larabee's or Buck's himself. Until then, JD still had to watch and learn. He was a whiz with computers but interactions with others; he was as naive as Ezra was cynical or Tanner aloof.
Wilmington clasped a hand to the back of JD's neck in a brotherly fashion, "Lets get these two drunks home."
Tanner's arm was killing him. He could feel where the hardware anchored itself to bone. Every time a finger moved or his shoulder twitched, his forearm complained loudly. Vin didn't want to take his pain med. He hated the way it made him feel. Whenever he popped one, he knew he would be asleep within the hour. That alone frustrated the hell out of him. Instead, he cradled his arm protectively in its sling. Even his bruised ribs complained incessantly.
Tanner looked over the back of the front seat. Ezra sat trying not to doze off while Buck guided the truck down the snow-encumbered highway. JD sat in the back seat behind Ezra looking out the window. They hit a pothole. Vin sucked in air as pain shot up his arm.
Buck heard it and looked in the rear view mirror. "Sorry Vin didn't see it," Wilmington smiled half heartily. Tanner delicately shrugged it off. Wrong move, his ribs and arm cried out.
JD saw this and handed Vin a pill in a stretched out palm. "Here, Vin," Dunne said. Tanner stared at the pill and then the kid. How did JD get the pill bottle out of his pocket? The sharpshooter's eyes fell on Standish. 'Damn southerner was teaching the kid all his bad habits.'
"It'll make ya feel better," JD said unnecessarily "beside Buck n' me will watch out for you and Ez till ya feelin' better ... so ya don't have to worry about nuthin'" Dunne clarified trying to put the tracker's unease to rest.
Wilmington gazed in the rear view mirror hoping Vin would hold his tongue or at least not blow up at the kid. JD would learn when to speak and when to let his actions do the talking. Vin and Ezra didn't want nor did they relish anyone looking out for or watching over them. Here, JD in just a few seconds expressed his intentions of bringing those very fears to light.
Buck sighed silently when Vin smiled crookedly and took the proffered tablet, "Thanks, JD," Tanner tossed the pill down and drank some of his McDonald's coke, "For everythin'," Tanner intoned self-consciously.
The fast-food stop was interesting enough. Standish only wanted a soda, Buck and JD in typical fashion seemed to order every special menu item they had and super sized it. Vin settled for fries and a soda. His stomach still played a fickle game. As the elderly lady handed the mounds of food through the truck window, the juggling started. Standish's hand-to-eye coordination still suffered miserably. Wilmington, in an attempt to bypass the sluggish agent, tried to twist and turn passing the food into the back.
JD grabbed hungrily at the paper bags, stealing French fries as he dug through them trying to dole out food. Tanner hindered by one arm attempted to use the fingers of his broken arm. He dropped his soda on the floor. He uttered a string of superlatives that made Wilmington grin. Dunne grabbed for the beverage spilling the bag of fries and knocking Standish's Coke out of the cardboard cup holder.
Buck tried to ignore the commotion in the back and pulled out onto the snow-covered street. A few lights later, food finally found its way to the front seat. Wilmington secured Standish's half-full drink in the only cup holder the truck had left, thanks to Josiah. Buck tried not to notice the soda running under the gas pedal.
Wilmington nursed the beat up crew cab pickup along Chris's driveway. The jarring was lost on the two agents. JD seemed impervious to it but kept a protective eye on Tanner. Dunne had taken off his own coat and managed to ball it under Standish's head to keep the undercover agent from banging it against the window and door jam. It was just getting dark when they pulled up to the house.
The hydrocodone had kicked in on poor Vin. Tanner fought to keep his eyes opened and willed his legs to listen to his brain. The communication between head and feet seemed lacking. JD shadowed the ex-bounty hunter leaving the food mess in the back seat. Dunne figured he would let Larabee's old black lab clean up assorted food mess. The young computer genius slowed his pace and walked beside Tanner. Buck was doing the same thing with the slow moving southerner.
Vin sat on the couch heavily. He staked his territory letting the gambler have the spare bedroom. Tanner didn't intend on succumbing to sleep not if he could fight it. Besides with Buck and JD around, he would probably wake up missing an eyebrow or something. Tanner flipped on the TV and sat back trying to create and maintain interest in the afternoon programming.
Buck exited the spare room leaving Standish dozing comfortably under a quilt. JD was searching the entertainment center for movies. Buck waited while the Texan stretched out on the couch trying to fight the impending nap. In a few minutes, the blue eyes struggled to remain open but eventually fluttered closed. JD switched the station.
Ezra woke in a strange room. It was dark. He lay still for a moment trying to get his bearings. He recognized the room. Larabee's guest room. Buck had walked him in here, told him to get some sleep. It was still light out then. At least this time, he was allowed to wake up on his own. He lay still for a few minutes and came to the realization he was hungry. Ezra started to sit up and stopped.
Buck and JD had been here alone with no one to moderate their devious tendencies. Standish ran a nervous hand over his eyebrows. He had both. He checked his fingers, no nail polish. The undercover agent sat up, stretched down and pulled his left sock off, so far so good. He wrestled off the right sock, again no embarrassing pranks. Ezra fought to get his socks back on and succeeded partially. The right one bunched loosely around his foot. The southerner, unsatisfied he escaped unscathed, headed into the bathroom. After searching for bald spots or indelible marker designs, Standish came to the uneasy conclusion that Buck and JD left him alone.
There must be something bigger in the planning. Whatever they had planned did not bode well for the southerner or Texan. He cracked the door open slowly expecting a bucket of water to cascade down on him. Nothing. Ezra tentatively took a step outside the room.
Josiah and Nathan were soundly whipping Buck and JD at pool. Chris and JD had lost in the previous game. It was Larabee's turn to sit out. Chris sat on the Lazyboy chair munching on Josiah's infamous chili. The stuff was hot enough to make your eyes water and your nose run. Vin slept on the couch. He had awaken a few times, ate a little dinner, avoided playing any pool, and promptly fell back to sleep. Larabee had tossed a Pendelton wool blanket over him to keep him relatively warm and offer added sense of security, in a manner only a blanket could provide.
"Well, look who has arisen from the dead, Josiah," Nathan chuckled out. The five ATF agents looked up and watched as Standish hobbled stiffly out of the spare bedroom into the 'great room'.
"Welcome back, brother," Sanchez intoned good-naturally. He had checked in on the sleeping agent only a fifteen minutes ago and found him resting soundly. "I take it you are feelin' better?"
Ezra smiled for the first time that day, "Yes, much," his dimples punctuated the grin, "Thank you." The others were here, maybe Buck and JD didn't have time to wreak their mayhem.
"Ya hungry, Ez?" JD asked. He and Buck lost this game. It would be his turn to sit out. Dunne didn't mind. With Standish awake, it gave JD a chance to bug someone new, "Josiah's chili is on the stove."
Larabee smiled at Dunne's offer. Chili wasn't something a queasy stomach needed. "There's some ice cream in the freezer and cereal on the shelf," Chris said offering a more delicate menu.
Standish nodded his thanks and shuffled into the kitchen. He furrowed his brow at Chris's suggestion. Mother always told him milk curdled in one's stomach unless tempered by some brandy. Ezra shook his head. He would find something.
"How long you plan on keepin' im up here, Chris?" Buck asked. He tried to bank the three around the eleven ball, missed, and sank the five. Well at least it was a solid.
"Ezra? 'Till Monday," Larabee answered. Standish appeared much more coherent and in control than he had this morning or all day for that matter. The rest of this weekend wouldn't go as smooth but with the snow piling up and with no car, Ezra was good as trapped. Chris paused and rethought it out. If Ezra was trapped, so was he.
"And Brother Vin?" Josiah asked. JD had sunk the eight ball prematurely, losing the game. The youngest member of the team didn't seem to care. Instead, he hung up his cue and headed into the kitchen after Standish. Sanchez smiled slightly to himself. Ezra was going to learn the meaning of tolerance.
"He'll stay the night from the looks of it," Chris intoned.
"You're gonna keep those two together?" Jackson asked incredulously. Monday wouldn't come soon enough.
"Well, the Arctic Cats are out of commissions ... the tractor's no good in the snow," Larabee reasoned, "and they're both laid up ... it'll be a quiet weekend." Chris paused in his thinking and revamped his earlier observations. The others were staring at him as if he had lost all his senses, "You might be right," he paused, "anyone interested in coming back up tomorrow?"
"Only if to watch what else those two have gotten into," Buck said.
"Insurance company say anything?" Nathan asked as he racked up the pool balls in the triangle.
"Just wanted to know how many teenagers I had," Chris answered. He sipped on his beer watching the others chuckle.
Vin Tanner woke lazily. A fire crackled in the fireplace. The TV was off and the room was dark accept for the glow of the fire. Vin stretched arching his back. He settled back down on the couch.
" 'Ey, Cowboy."
Tanner swiveled his head around and found Larabee sitting quietly in his customary chair.
" 'Ey, Cowboy," Tanner replied back. He furrowed his brow noticing the house was quiet. "Where's everyone?"
Larabee smiled as he sat forward letting the leg extension fold back under the chair. "Well, the others left a few hours ago and Ezra crashed in the spare room."
Vin nodded checked his watch but found just a bright orange cast. He would definitely get Wilmington for that little stunt. "What's the time?"
"Little after one," Chris answered quietly.
Tanner nodded and settled back down watching the flames from the fireplace, " 'Ey, Chris?" Vin started slowly searching for the correct words. " 'bout the Arctic Cat," he was hoping Larabee would interrupt him and tell him not to worry about it. It didn't happen.
"Yeah, what about it?" Chris intoned enjoying making the younger man squirm. Vin had apologized once before during the week. Standish had merely grumbled sometime about the accident being an act of God and no one was to blame.
" You're takin' this all really well," Tanner figured he would hedge his bets, something didn't feel right.
"I'd like to think so."
Tanner became suspicious he turned around in the couch and finally asked very pointedly, "How come?"
"Cuz, you and Ez are going to work it off," Chris didn't bother hiding the feral smile that creased his face.
Tanner shut his eyes, "Work ... with Ezra?" This didn't sound good at all.
Chris smiled pleased with the level of discomfort he was seeing in his friend, "Yup ... hay needs to be moved ... stalls cleaned ... tack oiled." He bit back his chuckle as Vin groaned and fell back on the couch.
"I'd rather die a slow miserable death." A southern drawl droned out from the entrance of the room.
"You?" Vin said with exasperation, "I'm the one who's gonna have ta listen ta ya bellyache?"
"Mr. Tanner, a gentleman does not debase himself by performing menial labor," Standish clarified.
"That's all well n' good ... cept'n you're no gentleman ... just a connivin' cardsharp lookin' for a sucker," Tanner answered back. 'Ahh, hell.' Ezra would stick him with all the work.
Chris quietly stood up and headed for his room, "You boys best get some rest. You've got a lot of work ahead of ya tomorrow."
"Mr. Larabee..."
"Chris..."
Texan and Southern drawls vied for attention. "We are injured," Ezra pointed out stating the obvious.
"Yeah, we're hurt. We can't be doin' stuff like that," Vin nearly pleaded. Gawd, he would rather move a few tons of hay by himself than deal with Standish.
"That's why you've got pain meds," Chris answered, "You won't be hurtin' to bad." Shutting his bedroom door ending all discussions,
Standish turned his attention back at the reclining Tanner, "This is all your fault you know."
"Mine?!" Vin hissed back indignantly, "I didn't put that damn tree there."
The End
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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