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Magnificent Seven ATF/AU
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See Part One for Disclaimers
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Vin was waiting inside the townhouse, watching the slow procession from the truck through the glass storm door. The sharpshooter and the gambler had grown close since Ezra's shaky start with the team, much to their surprise. Where Vin and Chris were on the same level, could face eachother as brothers and understand the other without speaking, Vin and Ezra were two sides of the same coin, facing in different directions, but connected nonetheless. With Ezra, Vin could just sit back and listen if he was feeling sociable, or sit quietly at the same table and not be expected to make small talk. Vin understood part of what made Ezra tick, but was fascinated by the part he couldn't begin to fathom. Just as he himself was seen as an enigma, the supposedly open southerner kept his cards close to his chest. In that respect, they were both content to maintain eachother's privacy.
The shaky wielding of the crutches, Buck and Chris on either side like worrying nursemaids; Vin smirked as he had an idea of what Ezra was thinking. The attention of the healthy team members was enough to drive anyone crazy, especially the privacy freaks like him and Ezra, and Nathan wasn't even there yet. Considering the southerner's determined expression, no one was going to like the upcoming battle. Chris was staying for first watch, so that meant Vin would reside in the guest bedroom as none of them trusted him to keep out of trouble on his own, and the next two days would be alternated between Josiah and Nathan. They all figured Ezra didn't need to be constantly supervised after a couple of days, so after that they would stop in after work. Vin was itching to get back to the apartment building and finish the last few repairs to be done before winter. He would just have to bide his time and wait until Chris was unsuspecting before making a break for it.
As they approached the door, Vin swung it open for them with his cast, earning an infuriated glare from Chris and a resigned sigh from Buck. Vin just smiled innocently, smug as a cat with a bowl of cream, which Chris didn't trust at all and warily passed him. Ezra absently nodded a greeting, concentrating on not tripping over the entry.
"How ya holdin' up, Ez?" Vin asked cheerfully yet in his quiet manner.
"Just peachy, Mr. Tanner." He steered himself towards the living room to take a rest, purposefully avoiding the kitchen and willing the world to stop tilting to the left. Chris saw him lurch to the side and shot out a steadying hand. The fact that Ezra didn't even protest disturbed him.
JD had run into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water in his good hand and a white bag in his teeth. Buck rushed forward to help.
"Here, kid, let me get that 'fore you spill it everywhere..." Ignoring JD's exasperated eye roll, Buck took the glass and the bag over to the coffee table.
"We picked up your prescription on the way over," JD chattered nonchalantly to fill the expectant silence as Ezra sank into the expensive couch with a sigh. "They put you on the same stuff as me, but I'll probably stop taking it in a couple days. Real stupid of me to tear my stitches, huh? Well, I can take the sling off tomorrow, though, so I'm real happy about that..." JD quickly stepped aside as Buck offered Ezra the drink and a round white pill, which he seriously considered not taking. Despite his outward appearance of being somewhat soft and liking the easiest of comforts, he had never liked taking medications. The few times he had taken painkillers had ended up with horrible reactions making him ill and dangerously light-headed, and right now he was dizzy enough. His pause made Chris speak up.
"You best hurry and take it so we can get you settled in upstairs." His tone brooked no arguement. Ezra gave him a hazy mutinous look, but complied and JD took the glass back to the kitchen.
Then Buck held out his hand expectantly, and Ezra regarded it with a raised brow.
"Yes?" He questioned belligerently.
"We gotta get you up those stairs somehow, pard." The jovial ladies' man smiled reassuringly, but Ezra still refused to react.
"Come on, Ezra." Chris got on his other side and stared holes into the undercover agent, who blinked fuzzily.
"Gentlemen, I believe I can make it up a simple flight of stairs on my own, thank you." His accent was slurred suddenly as the drugs kicked in. The room began to come at him in waves and, even though he was firmly seated, it felt as if he was flying head over heels in place. He wasn't thinking very straight, but some inner demon was telling him that he didn't want his colleagues to see him like this. An instinctive urge to seclude himself away and nurse his wounds in private, as he had always done, overwhelmed him. Mind whirling to find the fastest way to get them out of his house, he was frustrated when they just grabbed his hands and hauled him carefully to his feet. His hurt leg bumped the coffee table, but he was now pleasantly numb and barely noticed it. The others were discussing something as they practically dragged him to and up the stairs, only his hearing was dim and their words incoherent.
"Think he's okay, Chris?" Buck whispered, worried as they entered the richly decorated, if definitely uncluttered, bedroom.
"Probably just the painkillers kickin' in. I think he's already asleep." They maneuvered him onto the high bed and under the covers, just removing his sneakers. His battered face stood out in stark contrast to the white pillow case. The two men stopped to catch their breath.
"Shouldn't we've just had him camp out on the couch?"
"Nah- This way he'll have to work his way slow down the stairs 'fore he can get anywhere, so I'm sure to hear him."
"Hope he ain't like Vin- That boy would get frustrated and throw himself down if he thought it'd be faster," Buck joked as they went out into the hall and softly closed the door.
"I might just throw him down myself sometime soon. I know he's plannin' on trying something, I just don't know when." Chris continued to scowl as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Vin looked up from the show he and JD were watching with an innocent look. Buck laughed out loud and JD looked confused.
"We should be headin' out." He tossed JD his jacket. The kid was looking tired as well, but wouldn't want to leave his friends unless Buck suggested it.
"See ya later on," Chris called as they passed him out the door.
"Have fun!" Buck smiled evilly. Chris was gonna go insane...
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Chris was going insane, and Ezra hadn't even woken up yet. After Buck and JD left, the two remaining friends settled down to playing poker on the coffee table. They were just playing for change, but Vin began to rake it all in and Chris had the feeling he'd been taking lessons from a certain someone. He found the game getting old real quick as the contents of his pockets were hoarded in front of the long-haired Texan.
When he went to fix them something to eat, all he found in the fridge was coffee beans, wine, and some unknown spreads with french labels. Apparently Ezra liked to eat out. So, silly him, he went out to the grocery store for supplies, leaving Vin sitting in supposed docility in front of the television.
The little sneak was gonna die.
Pulling up in front of the townhouse, he saw that Nathan had arrived and carted the groceries up the walkway in no rush. He almost ran into the ex-medic as he opened the door.
"Hey, Chris. Lemme help ya," Nathan smiled congenially and grabbed some of the bags.
"Feelin' better?" Chris asked with a grin, noting how much more alert and awake his friend looked.
"It's amazing what a quick nap and quiet patient will do for a man. I just checked on Ezra and he's sleepin' like the dead."
"Good. If he's asleep he can't gripe."
They set the bags on the kitchen counter and started putting the perishables away. Chris paused for a moment to regard the gashes in the linoleum near the door. Ezra would probably want those replaced. It wasn't until they were almost done that he wondered why Vin hadn't popped his head in yet, and asked Nathan if he was still upstairs.
"Ain't no one here but us and Ezra, Chris. I thought he was with you or Buck?" Concern clouded his expression.
"No, I left him here to look after Ezra, so that means he probably slipped out while you were coming in..." A tight knot of tension in his head felt like someone was pulling a string tightly around it, and began to throb. Of course. He should have known. The second he looked away, the quiet sharpshooter disappeared.
"He probably just headed back to his apartment," Nathan offered helpfully, worried at the look on Chris' face.
"Oh, you can bet on it." He paused a second, then with a tight smile snatched his keys from the counter top and strode towards the front door. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
"Just remember he ain't good to nobody if he's dead..." Nathan joked feebly, vainly attempting to lighten Larabee's mood.
"If he's lifted a single nail even, I won't be held accountable for my actions," he growled and stormed out.
"Well, I guess I'm making dinner..." Nathan returned to the kitchen with a sigh.
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The sound of flesh pounding flesh resounded through his ears, vibrated through his middle, reverberated in his teeth. Explosive agony blossomed with each impact.
The sickening crunch of broken bones sent waves of mind-numbing, flaring, searing pain through his entire body.
He was trapped, cornered like an animal and trying to fight back, but to no avail. His attackers mercilessly rained blow upon blow down on him, punishing him for doing his job.
Gasping for air, his lungs refused to fill and it felt like he was drowning. He tried to crawl away, the hard metal of the lone handcuff on his left wrist biting into his flesh and gouging the soft linoleum as he reached for the doorway. Their heavy breathing and muffled grunts with each punch were soon phased out by the fierce throbbing of blood rushing through his head.
The back of his head was ruthlessly seized, one attacker using a fistful of hair to slam him cheekfirst into the hard floor, bouncing the side of his head off it repeatedly.
The dim light of the windows faded. . .
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The repetitive pounding of the hammer led Chris to Vin.
He had violently parked his truck outside the decrepit apartment building Vin called home, after breaking quite a few traffic laws getting there. The children playing in the stairwell, recognizing him as Vin's friend, scattered at his angry approach. He radiated menace, and woe to anyone who crossed him.
It was on the second floor he heard the sound of hammering. He zeroed in on the thuds like a vulture on dead meat.
Vin was up on a ladder, one handedly replacing the trim on the top of the wall. He had finished painting the section the last time he had partaken of his forbidden repairs. Ignoring Chris, but quite aware of his presence, the sharpshooter continued his business.
"Vin, get down from there. Now." Chris ground out, tone dead even and deceptively calm. The intense fury behind the words was evident though, simmering just below the surface.
"Hold on a sec, pard," Vin mumbled absently around the nails in his mouth.
"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing up there, but if you don't get down immediately, I will bodily remove you from that ladder."
"Fine. I'm done anyway." He climbed down the old wooden ladder and looked defiantly at Chris. "Shoot."
"I'm more than tempted to. Maybe then you'd rest up. Bad enough I gotta watch you at the ranch and the office, but now I gotta keep an eye on you when I thought I could trust you to watch after a teammate?" Chris got up in his face, angry and hurt that his best friend would duck out and put himself in danger.
"Hell, Chris, I waited till Nathan got there then went out the back. I wouldn't leave Ezra on his own. And I got a lot of work to catch up on here, which I could if ya weren't doggin' my steps all the time. It's been over a week- and there ain't no one I heard of that died from gettin' just their arm broke." Out of character, Vin snapped at Chris, tired of all the smothering of the past week.
"And if you keep aggravating it, you're never gonna get better and it'll just hurt worse."
The two men glared at eachother until they both gave up and looked away. Vin went to put the hammer back in the tool box, but Chris beat him to it by plucking the tool out of his unwary hand and firmly shutting the metal carrier. He stood with it in one hand and motioned for Vin to head up the stairs. The Texan looked at him for a second, then sighed and turned around.
"Nathan's making dinner back at Ezra's," Chris commented when Vin's stomach growled loudly.
"Reckon I could do with some grub. At least I ain't gotta put up with your cookin' tonight." Vin smirked at the insult, his way of showing that things were okay between them now.
"Weren't complainin' when ya ate me out of house and home this week. . ." Chris returned with a devilish grin.
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Ezra awoke abruptly at the polite knock on his door. It had been a light tap, but startled him nonetheless. His heart was rapidly beating, straining like it wanted to burst from his chest. In his mind, he could still taste the blood filling his mouth, and the bruises on his body just reminded him of the heavy blows. He struggled to quickly control himself as Nathan poked his head around the door.
"Hey there, Ez. Sorry if I woke you up, but I made some dinner. Was wonderin' if you were hungry?" He stayed at the door, having never been invited into Ezra's private sanctum and feeling slightly ill at ease.
"No, thank you, Mr. Jackson. As much as I appreciate your culinary expertise, I'm afraid imbibing anything at this moment would not be wise." Especially with the room spinning. . .
"How bout some chicken broth then? Chris bought some cause he figured you wouldn't wanna eat. Besides, that medication'll dehydrate you right quick if you don't drink plenty of fluids." His friend's pallor concerned the empathetic ex-medic.
"That's quite all right, Nathan," Ezra refused quietly, the thought of digesting even liquid sending his stomach rolling. "How long have I been asleep?" He changed the subject.
"A good ten, eleven hours, according to Chris. It's almost time for your medication, too, so I can give it to you now and we won't have to wake you up later."
Ezra groaned. Having read the warning labels, he was pretty sure the stuff was responsible for his nightmares. At least, he hoped it was. . .
Nathan fished the bottle out of his pocket and went into the adjacent bathroom to find a cup for water. He came back with two little dixie cups filled and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Need help sittin' up?" One thing about Nathan was that he could ask a question that would normally raise Ezra's hackles in such a matter of fact tone that the prideful southerner wasn't offended. Plus, he really wasn't able to get himself up. All his stomach muscles felt weak and shaky.
At his nod, Nathan propped some pillows behind him. Even the simple task had him gritting his teeth against the pain and fighting off the dry heaves.
"I really don't think I can stomach this. . ." He warned as Nathan held out the little white pill.
"It'll be all right- You gotta take it; it keeps the swellin' down so you can heal."
The undercover agent sighed and gave in, forcing himself to swallow because not even he could withstand the pain for long. The thought of how he would feel if the medication wore off was not pleasant.
"Josiah, Vin, and Chris are all downstairs, waitin' to hear how you're doing." Nathan looked away and said quietly, "You scared us, Ez. When we found you. . . It didn't look like you would make it. But we're all mighty glad to have you back."
"I echo the sentiment, believe me. . . Thank you for the concern, Nathan." Ezra was touched. He wanted to say more, but his thoughts were already getting fuzzy.
"I'll go so's you can sleep." He stood up and set the pill bottle on the bare nightstand.
"Huh." Ezra was already drifting back off, but he didn't want to sleep anymore. Nor did he want to be alone.
He had spent some time lying passed out on his floor after they left, and would've kept lying there in agony for quite longer if his cellphone hadn't started to ring in his jacket pocket. He had pulled himself out of the pain-filled fog and felt around for his designer blazer. The jacket had been ripped off him and discarded in the struggle. When he opened the compact phone, Chris' voice had demanded to know why he was so late for work and not answering his home phone. His hoarse request for assistance had certainly gotten the leader's attention, and soon he was gone again in his mindless oblivion. Next time he could remember, he was in the recovery room after they operated on his ribs. His kidney's were bruised, he had a concussion, and was suffering from bloodloss.
Remembering that he wanted someone to be near, he opened his mouth to protest Nathan's departure just as the healer was shutting the door, assuming that he had fallen back asleep.
Despair welled up in his semi-conscious mind. Then all was dark.
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"What do you mean they got it last week?" Chris ground out, channeling the frustration he felt into something more manageable that he had experience handling, namely: anger.
Chris and Vin had spent the night over Ezra's, only after Vin swore on their friendship not to sneak out again, and were now sitting at the kitchen table sipping some expensive brand coffee at five in the morning. Not good as 7-11 coffee, but hey, it's the caffeine they needed. And Chris wanted to have all his wits about him for this latest crisis.
"Well, Team 3 took over the investigation on Ezra's attack, after the connection to Rocci was obvious-" Buck began to explain in his lengthy manner.
"We know that, Buck. We arrested him for it. Get to the point." Chris interrupted with a sugary sweet smile that had the lady's man rushing on nervously.
"The, uh, threat was found sitting on top of the morning mail last Tuesday, addressed to 'Team 7,' but since we were all on downtime and at the hospital, Mike took the liberty of opening it cuz it seemed suspicious and he didn't want to bother you with it until they was sure-"
"Someone gets access to the building's mail carriers, leaves a handwritten note threatening one of my men, who was already in a vulnerable position, and Mike thought I wouldn't want to be bothered?" Again, the deceptively calm voice, tight smile, and murder in his eyes.
"Oh, Mike knew you'd wanna hear about it but wanted to get more information 'fore you went stormin' off-" Buck smiled briefly at the prediction of his friend's reaction, then reverted to his serious let's-kick-some-tail-but-stay-rational expression.
"And did he?"
"Get more info? Yeah. He questioned the mailman and office staff, but they were a dead end, and he sent the letter to be analyzed. Found a print on the paper that wasn't personnel, took 'em forever to find a match. Ended up getting it from that Ident-A-Kid organization. Turns out it was some ten-year-old who was asked to write a letter by an old man in the neighborhood park. The old guy was identified as Erwin Platt, who walks his dog every day there, and he was paid two hundred dollars to get someone to write the letter for him. Mr. Platt is almost completely blind, so much that he can only see shades of colors and has a seeing eye dog, so he wasn't much help either."
"Two hundred dollars is a lot for a note..." Vin interjected, drawing the same conclusion as Team 3. Only someone with plenty of money to go around would shell that out, and it was a freakish coincidence that it appeared on the tail of the Rocci case.
"Yeah. Goin' from the account Ezra gave- build, voice, strength, eye color- Mike's been havin' Rocci's businesses investigated. Some one's got to slip up sometime," Buck offered hopefully.
"And when they do..." Chris let the threat hang. "That still doesn't excuse me findin' out about this five days after the fact. What if these people tried something? We've been watchin' over him, but probably shoulda mounted a guard!" Chris finally allowed his agitation to show.
"We were all worn out. It was a long investigation and we had injured people plus shattered nerves. Everybody at the office wanted to give us space and time to recover as quietly as possible. Mike put a plain clothes outside but thought it best not to say so nobody'd get suspicious if they saw us talkin'. The man was doin' what he thought was right, Chris, don't fault him for it. Judge Travis backed him up on it, too."
"Where'd you hear all this, Buck?" Vin asked while their leader mulled over what was said.
"Had a hot date with Team 3's secretary last night," Buck winked in his usual light hearted manner, then frowned. "Unfortunately, as I was leaving her place this morning, she let slip that they were all worried about us with good reason. I got most of the info from her, then gave Mike a call. He didn't like bein' tossed outta bed at four in the morning, but had the grace to act sheepish when I asked him bout it."
"Damn." Vin commented on the situation in general.
"So what we gonna do, Chris?" Buck had faith in the thoughtful look on the man in black's face.
"First, we round everybody up. Meet here in an hour. We'll go over what we need, then set about gettin' it." Now that he had decided on a course of action, he was determined to get it over as quickly as possible. It was that focus that contributed to making them one of the best teams in the ATF.
"We gonna tell Ez?" Vin wanted to know, reluctant to upset the southerner further.
"For now, keep it quiet. Once we know where we stand we'll decide."
"Guess I gotta drag JD's butt outta bed..." Buck grinned mischeviously as he headed out the door.
"I'll give Ezra his next pill," the sharpshooter quietly mumbled, grabbing the medication off the counter.
"That leaves me to make some phone calls," Chris glowered in anticipation. Mike, then Judge Travis. He was going to get some answers.
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Nathan hurried to his Suburban, pulling his jacket tight in an attempt to keep out the bitter cold. The weather had sudenly turned ugly after he left Ezra's the previous night and, tired following a stressful day at the office catching up on paperwork, Nathan wasn't in the mood to freeze. He dug in his pockets to find his keys, which he had hastily stashed on his way into the pharmacy to pick up a new Ace bandage for Ezra, so he wasn't paying attention to the night around him.
Just as his hand curled around his pewter keychain, he was slammed into the driver side window by two sets of hands. He struggled instinctively, but stilled at the harsh voice and painful grip on the back of his neck.
"Listen up, Darkie." It was the voice of a chain smoker, the smell of stale cigarettes confirming his guess. "We let that scrawny Southern runt live as a warning for the rest of you pigs to back off the Rocci case, but did you get the hint?" The second attacker shoved him harder into the glass. "No- you fools didn't. So now we've got to make our point clearer."
Nathan could make out a black ski mask set against the cloudy night sky in the reflection so near to his face. Then the sharp gleam of a butterfly kife joined the menacing picture.
"Do NOT doubt that we know exactly where you all live, where you go after work, even where you park your cars. You're messing with a global operation here- If you take Rocci down, there are others just waiting to fill in and they will come after each of you. For now," the blade flicked close to his eye, "the demand is simple. Back off now so no one else gets hurt. It's already too late to save Standish, and if you fail to comply, poor little JD is next. You get my drift?"
Nathan nodded as far as he could while still being held. His heart was beating furiously, anger warring with fear. They weren't going to kill him; he had to deliver their message, but that didn't mean they would let him go unscathed. Plus, he had to warn Chris immediately. They had to get Ezra out of the house, and get to the others.
Right now, though, he had to remain conscious.
"Just so you won't forget, we'll leave you a reminder..." A silver flash warned him and he heaved back suddenly, blocking the assault. A sudden sting in his arm was ignored as he fought the two men. Help, however, came in the form of an ex-marine from a nearby apartment complex walking his doberman.
"Hey! What are you doing over there?!" The dog started barking ferociously, which drew the attention of the store clerk and suddenly Nathan was released as the two men ran down the sidewalk, headed for a side alley. The ATF agent heard the peal of tires, but no vehicle emerged from that side of the alley.
He sighed and slumped against the car door as a crowd gathered, then pulled out his cel-phone.
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"Nathan called earlier, said he was gonna be a little late." JD informed Chris as he plopped down next to Vin at the coffee table, where the two had started a game of gin rummy.
"I told him to come immediately from the office. It's already six now!" Chris snapped, wearily scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands. He had had to wait for the ATF building to open before Judge Travis would speak to him, and he could get all the information from Mike. The situation was not good.
"He was gettin' some bandage for Ezra," JD looked contrite, like the delay was his own fault. Chris sighed.
"Ain't no concern, JD. I just don't like what I've got to say." It was as close to an apology as he ever made, so JD smiled happily.
"Speakin' of Ez, somebody better go wake him up or he'll be madder'n a hornet..." Vin drawled, smirking from his nest of blankets in front of the TV.
"You mean you already told him?" Buck demanded indignantly, glaring at Chris, who mentally noted the protectiveness in his tone.
"We didn't have to," Vin replied for their leader. "He overheard us this mornin', while he was tryin' to get downstairs on his own."
"Least he didn't throw himself down 'em," Chris deadpanned, giving Buck a slight smirk that sent the ladies man into a fit of laughter.
"I assure you, Mr. Larabee, I have no wish to injure my self further." The sudden southern drawl made them all jump guiltily. Josiah stood discretely behind the conman, out of sight but prepared to catch him if he fell.
Buck shooed JD over so that the path to the sofa was clear, and the three uninjured teammates had to restrain themselves from obviously helping the proud man get seated. Josiah had carried the crutches down, so Ezra slowly hobbled his way over on his own, brow furrowed in concentration. Yet when he stumbled on the plush oriental rug, Buck swiftly caught him and Josiah eased him onto the couch.
"Thank you, gentlemen." His tone was subdued as he leaned back his head.
"Should you be outta bed?" JD questioned concernedly, then hastily continued as Ezra shot him a glare. "I just mean- is Nathan gonna skin us alive for lettin' you down here?"
"You are not 'letting' me, I chose to descend after deciding that I am tired of sleeping." Ezra returned to his relaxed pose, only now he surreptitously rubbed his straining eyes.
"Dear Lord, the world's gonna end! Ezra just said he was tired of sleeping!" Buck crowed as he teased his friend.
"Whatever shall we do?" Came the sarcastically muttered retort. One of the knots inside Chris's chest relaxed. Ezra was beginning to sound more like Ezra. His undercover agent would be all right.
"Are we just waiting on Nathan, Brothers?" Josiah's soothing rumble was easier on Ezra's pounding head than Buck's boisterous shouts.
"He called over an hour ago, Josiah. I don't see why he ain't here..." JD answered the ex-preacher.
Chris's cel-phone shrilled at that moment, causing Ezra to groan and Buck to comment, "Hope that's him."
All five men tensed at their leader's curses after he assertained that it was Nathan and was silent for a time.
"What was that about?" Buck demanded after he hung up.
"Nathan was just attacked by our two thugs," Chris nodded in Ezra's direction, continuing despite the growing pallor of the recovering southerner.
"He all right?"
"Just a sliced arm, nothing deep. He doesn't think he needs stitches, so he's headed over here right now. But they gave him a message to deliver- 'Back off or die.'" Chris spit out the words, furious. "Apparently they know where we live and our routines, so none of us are safe. Nathan seemed pretty adamant that we find a place to lay low at least temporarily."
"You mean hide!" JD exploded, indignant at the thought of a hasty retreat. "No way!"
"Just to regroup and form a plan." Chris's tone held a warning for the hotshot hacker, who looked suitably abashed.
"Why can't we just wait for them to come to us?" Vin asked calmly.
"Because they seemed pretty intent on killing Ezra when they spoke to Nathan, and I'm not taking any chances."
Ezra's head came up at that revelation, and he slowly leaned forward.
"Where can we go if they know where all of us live and still be close enough to the office to get back at them?" Buck wanted to know.
Ezra tuned out the suggestions being thrown around and came to a decision.
"Perhaps, gentlemen, Mr. Tanner has a valid idea." He interrupted softly. It took them a second to remember what Vin had said, and then the vehement protests began.
"Brother, we can't just let them plan to attack at their leisure-"
"No way, Ez. It's too dangerous!"
"I don't think so, Standish," Chris's voice cut through the outbursts.
"Why not? Set a trap for them, using me as bait." His voice seemed rational enough, but they regarded him as if he was crazy.
"We'll work on the offensive later. For now, we need a secure place to stay." The leader's tone brooked no argument.
"Where then?" Ezra demanded testily, annoyed that a matter such as his safety would prevent them from capturing the goons immediately. Nevermind the fact that the very idea of waiting for them to come back scared him stiff.
"I have an idea. For now, we'll travel in pairs and get ready to leave."
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teehee. Feel free to write me and say watcha think so far!
Updated 3/26/00
By Foggynite