When You Come Back To Me Again
Disclaimer: The characters of the Mag7 do not belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for the fun of writing:) No profit involved or sought for here.
I own no rights to the song lyrics used in this story...
When You Come Back to Me Again by Garth Brooks/Jenny Yates or Desperado by ... was just borrowing them cause I like 'em.
Comments: Though not a sequel there are references to in this story to 'Your True Family' by Ruby. You don't have to read her story to understand this one but I recommend it anyway cause it's a great one. Thank you Ruby for letting me use it for Ezra's history and refer to your characters too:)
(Your True Family is archived at the ALL Ezra archive)
Huge Thank you to NT for reading through this and helping me fix it up for reposting!
There's a ship
out on the ocean
at the mercy of the sea
It's been tossed about lost and broken
wandering aimlessly
And God, somehow you know that ship is me
There's a lighthouse in a harbor shining faithfully
Pouring its light out across the water
For this sinking soul to see
That someone out there still believes in me
Josiah Sanchez nodded politely and shook hands with the last few patrons exiting the decorated interior of Inez's Saloon. He felt like a preacher after the Sunday morning service, but couldn't help smiling anyway. The fundraiser had been a huge success.
Josiah watched the last couple make their way through the light sprinkle of rain to their car, and then turned and, with a glance up at the heavens, thanked the powers that be for tapping folks' hearts and wallets. Then, closing the front door, he flicked the sign to closed and went to help the others with clean up.
Buck and JD were helping Inez and her two waitresses clean off the tables, though Buck appeared to be doing more flirting than cleaning. Chris and Vin moved about the room, sweeping the cluttered floor, while in the back corner at Team Seven's usual table, Nathan and Ezra sat counting the evening's donations.
"How'd we do?" Josiah asked,moving across the room. A radio played in the background and, though it wasn't nearly as loud as the juke box had been, Josiah had to raise his voice slightly to be heard.
"I'd say, our local charity will be very pleased with this little soirée's profits," Ezra drawled loosening his tie and leaning back in his chair. His eyes skimmed over the table, lingering on the neatly stacked piles of cash.
"Sure will." Nathan nodded. "There's just over $10,000 here. Not bad for a little thing we threw together, huh?"
"How much?" JD stopped beside the table, his voice drawing the attention of the others in the room. Chris, Vin and Buck joined the group just as Nathan repeated the amount.
"Hot Damn." Buck laughed. "All that in cash?"
"Almost," Nathan stated as he started organizing the money to put into the zippered bank pouch that Ezra had provided for the event.
"There are a few checks in the mix, but," Jackson waved a stack of bills. "Mostly green."
"Good job, guys." Chris leaned on the handle of the broom he'd been using. "Refuge ought to be able to do quite a lot with all of that," hesaid, referring to the local shelter and safe house for battered women and children.
"Anyone would be able to find ample use for this much cash, gentlemen," Ezra purred, running his finger over a pile of bills before handing them to Nathan. His ruby ring flashed in the light.
"Ezra, this money is for charity." Nathan's tone reprimanded lightly.
"I'm well aware of the fact,Mr. Jackson," Ezra replied. "I was merely stating the fact that any one of us, if not all of us, could find valid uses for the if we divided it up, it would make a nice bonus,so to speak. I was not suggesting we actually do so," he insisted.
"Good," Chris said. " 'cause it ain't ours. Let's get this place cleaned up like we promised Inez we would." No one missed the command in his tone.
"I'll vacuum." Vin reached for the apparatus.
"Need to put the chairs up first," Josiah noted.
"Wait guys!" JD ran to the bar and reached back towards the radio, turning the volume up a couple of notches.
"What are you doing, kid?" Buck asked frowning.
"I love this song."
The older men groaned, fearing the worst. "Hey, trust me," JD insisted, increasing the volume one more time.
The first few strains of song hit the airwaves and Josiah grinned, nodding his head with approval. "The Eagles," he said softly.
"Desperado, Why don't you come to your senses?
You've been out riding fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow..."
Inez smiled and shook here head, pausing as she wiped down the bar. She watched the seven men as they worked in silence, setting chairs leg up on the tables. She wondered if they even realized that they were all mouthing the words of the song as they worked. Giggling softly, she enjoyed the scene.
Individually, they certainly were an odd assortment, she admitted. All of them somehow managed to fall into the category of loner. Most of them by their own choices, except JD maybe. Life had turned the tables on the kid, leaving him alone when his mother died.
"And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone."
The words captured Inez's heart and whipped at her emotions. No, the truth was, life had railed against all of the seven at some point. Alone was just what they'd grown used to, until now. As a team, as a family, Inez knew these men were a force. There was no other word that fit, a force. They had one of the best records in the ATF, after all. But there was something else, too. Inez wasn't sure if they themselves could see it, but watching them work together now, even on such a menial task, she could. It was more than friendship or family really, a brotherhood.
Inez shook her head again and went back to her clean up. Maybe she was just tired, or maybe the song was making her overly sentimental, but she suddenly felt the intense desire and painful longing to belong to something as powerful and complete as what these men were together.
"It might be rainin' but there's a rainbow above you
you better let someone love you, before it's too late."
'Damn,' Inez thought. She sure hoped these guys knew what they had. Wiping a tear away quickly, she muttered to herself in Spanish as she hit the power button and sent the room into complete silence.
No one spoke for awhile. Each agent lost in his own thoughts as he went about cleaning up. Even Ezra lent a hand as he wiped off and upended chairs. The silence of the moment was finally broken when Chris started chuckling and shaking his head.
"What's so funny,Cowboy?" Vin asked as everybody turned and looked at their leader questioningly.
Chris laughed again, "Do you know how many times I've been called on the carpet by the brass upstairs? And almost every time, it's the same thing. 'Your team is nothing but a bunch of wild desperadoes with no regard or respect for proper procedure'," he mimicked a voice the rest were not familiar with.
Buck laughed and clapped JD on the back. "Well, if the shoe fits, I say we wear it."
Chris' expression changed instantly to concern. "Hey now, I didn't mean that as an okay to ignore procedure, Buck," but his protest was drowned out when with a wink at the others asVin turned on the vacuum cleaner.
A half hour later, the clean up was finished and the group was once again gathered around 'their' table. Nathan held up the pouch of money. "Someone needs to keep this overnight and take it in to the bank in the morning," he stated, looking at Chris.
"I drive past that particular financial establishment everyday," Ezra mentioned. "I can take care of it on my way to work tomorrow."
"Josiah can do it." Chris took the bank bag and tossed it to the older man.
Ezra felt his face flush and his pulse quicken instantly. He questioned,"Mr. Larabee? Are you insinuating that you can not trust me?"
The room fell silent as the other men shifted uncomfortably, wishing they could avoid being witnesses to the oncoming confrontation. Ezra looked from friend to friend, but no one would look directly at him.
"None of you trust me?" His voice had fallen to a whisper.
"Ezra," Josiah reached out, but the undercover agent took a step backwards. 'After all this time,' he thought.
"I'm sure Chris has a good reason," Josiah tried again.
"Then what the hell is it?" The Southerner's voice stayed level, but the hurt there was obvious. The silence roared in Ezra's ears. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Chris searching for words. "I see then," he whispered and headed for the door.
"Ezra wait!" Chris commanded, but Ezra merely held up a hand in a half wave, half surrendering motion and walked out into the damp night.
"What was that all about?" Buck asked finally. "You can't seriously believe Ezra would take that cash do you?"
"No," Chris spat defensively. He hadn't wanted to bring this up. He ran a hand roughly through his blond hair. "I got a letter today from the bureau's I.A. office."
"Internal affairs?" JD's voice rose with shock.
"What about?" Vin asked softly, glancing at the door.
"More bull shit from Atlanta," Chris admitted, letting them know it concerned Ezra.
"It's been two years. For crying out loud, the man didn't do anything already!" Buck shouted angrily.
"Well, someone's stirring up the old rumor pot again and Ezra's their target."
"What does that have to do with you trusting him with the cash, Chris?" Nathan asked.
"It doesn't.I do, trust him, I mean." Chris sighed heavily. "I.A's watching him like a hawk and you want me to let him carry a huge wad of cash home with him? They'd be all over that."
"Could have explained," Vin stated.
"I didn't know how," Chris declared. "Damn it,he thinks this crap is all behind him."
The sudden sound of tires squealing, brakes screeching and horns blaring had them all running for the door. Outside, the driver of a Ford Taurus was hanging half out of his window waving his fist in the air. Another horn at the corner caught their attention in time to catch a glimpse of Ezra's jaguar skidding sharply around the turn and through the red light.
Ezra let the saloon door slam closed behind him. He didn't care anymore about making a scene. Itdidn't matter. The night's light rain swept over him and he shivered with chills and anger. Why didn't they trust him? Oh yeah, he'd screwed up at the very beginning, once, but after all this time, he'd thought they were past that. Frowning, he ran a shaking hand over his face and headed for the car.
Inwardly, he fumed. "How could you have been so stupid?" he asked himself as he slid into the driver's seat. Leaning forward, he rested his head on the steering wheel. Emotions ran through him faster than he could process each one. Hurt, anger, sadness, all of them hitting like physical blows.
Ezra knew he wasn't the easiest man to get to know. Hell, he did that on purpose, but he thought that these men had figured that out. Thought they had come to the point that they could see through the walls of indifference. He sat back and wiped his eyes, disgusted with the tears. Somehow he'd thought this time was different. He'd grown to believe these men were his friends. He'd worked with them everyday, entrusted his life to them and eventually his defenses had relaxed enough that he considered them friends, family.
"Family, that's a good one,Standish," Ezra said out loud as he started the car. He didn't bother to look for oncoming cars when he pulled out of the parking lot. "When are you going to learn, Ezra?" He continued his tirade, struggling to keep the car on the slick road as he ran the red light. "You've never had a family and you're never going to, so let it go already." His voice was harsh and his eyes unfocused as memories flashed through his mind. Years of moving from relative to relative, from boarding school to boarding school. Years of feeling like an outsider and holding back from his coworkers knowing that getting involved only brought eventual abandonment, rejection and worse yet betrayal.
The way he was forced from the FBI ran through his mind. The rumors, the accusations, the scorn stayed with him long after the investigation had ended. He remembered feeling so lost. No one at work would talk to him, even though the investigation had found nothing and anonymous threats slipped into his inter office mail almost daily. That was when Chris Larabee had stepped into his life.
"How very melodramatic," Ezra muttered to himself. The jag swerved wildly off the shoulder of the highway, but he held on and maintained control. "At least you can control something." He cursed, remembering the fear of transferring to Denver and the initial stupidity of his first case with Team Seven. He'd walked out on them momentarily, before getting a grip on the situation and returning. He thought he was gone when Larabee walked up to him and got in his face. "Don't you ever run out on me again." The words startled him back then and simultaneously knocked down the top bricks of his defensive walls. No one had ever given him a second chance before. For the first time in his life,he had begun to feel like he belonged somewhere. He'd let himself enjoy the feeling too. God, he actually thought they believed in him.
"How could you be so stupid?" he asked,smacking the steering wheel with his palm. Focusing on the road,he knew shouldn't be driving, but he certainly didn't want to go home right now. Home, to the apartment he'd finally settled into. Home, where he'd unpacked and actually decorated. It was the first time he could remember that he'd cared what pictures hung on the walls. Stopping for a red light, Ezra watched the reflection of a neon sign blink on the hood of his car. Making up his mind, he hit the blinker switch and turned sharply into the parking lot.
The first drink fueled his anger. The second drink fueled his hurt. The third drink fueled his loneliness. The fourth drink fueled his despair. Ezra was no longer keeping track of the number of glasses on the table. Satisfied to wallow in the misery of self pity. His vision blurred and he blinked trying in vain to clear it. Nothing mattered anymore. His friends did not trust him. Maybe he should just walk away, but as soon as the thought entered his sodden mind, Larabee's words jumped at him. "Don't you ever run out on me again." Ezra frowned. "Damn him," he muttered out loud. How was he supposed to work with men that didn't trust him.
Groaning at the wave of dizziness passing over him, Ezra squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea, he was going to need a ride home and he couldn't even remember if he had any cash left on him for a taxi. Besides, he didn't exactly know where he was. Looking around the dingy room's interior, Ezra shivered unconsciously. What had he been thinking? Sluggishly, Ezra flipped open his wallet and grimaced. There was enough to cover the drinks, but that left him high and dry, ironically, on a ride home. He picked up the keys to his Jag and rolled them over in his hand, trying to flip them across the back of his fingers. They landed with a sharp clatter on the sticky table. He frowned again.
Tossing his money on the table, Ezra staggered rather awkwardly to his feet. He stood still a moment, collecting himself. He might be drunk, but he'd be damned if he couldn't walk out of a bar on his own power without embarrassing himself by stumbling about like a lout. He scooped up his keys and, ignoring the looks from the few rough looking patrons, walked out into the night.
Outside, the rain was coming down in torrents. A tiny, ragged awning provided just enough cover to keep Ezra from getting complete soaked in the downpour. It took him a moment to focus on the name of the bar, the road signs and the landmarks around him, but Ezra finally figured out where he was. Swallowing his pride, he fished his cellphone from his jacket pocket and dialed the number from memory.
" 'ello?" Vin answered quickly.
"Mr. Tanner?" Ezra paused trying to focus on what he needed.
"Ezra is that you?" Vin sounded relieved for some reason.
"My apologies for disturbing you, but I'm finding myself in need of a favor at this time." Ezra's accent slurred slightly despite his efforts to speak clearly.
"You need a ride, Ez?"
Ezra cursed under his breath. "I'm afraid so," he admitted simply.
"Not a problem. Where are you?"
Ezra had just finished giving the address when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, startling him.
"Hey you!" The hand tightened and Ezra felt himself being turned around roughly until he was facing three very large and angry looking men. The one touching him smiled. "Well, if ain't, Mr. Simpson." The fist caught him in the jaw and propelled him backwards into the rain. He sprawled onto the gravel, the phone skittering from his hand.
"What the?" Ezra shook his head trying to chase away the pain and confusion.
"Don't you remember me, 'Mr. Simpson'?" The man leered sarcastically as he bent over him and hauled him up by his lapels. "You're the fucking under cover man who sent my ass to the pen."
"I think you're mistaken." Ezra searched his befuddled brain for the memory of the man now shoving him back towards his two friends.
"No, I've been watching you in there, drinking for over an hour now. Think back." The burly man nodded and Ezra's arms were grabbed by the others and wrenched behind him. He yelped as his shoulder popped out of joint. "Think Atlanta." The man in front of him commanded, then drove his fist hard into Ezra's gut.
Ezra coughed and gasped for air. His chin was grabbed roughly and his head yanked harshly up so that he was looking into the other man's face.
"McDowell," he whispered the name as the memory of a long ago drug bust flittered across his brain.
"Now at least I have the pleasure of knowing you remembered me," McDowell hissed as he pulled his fist back and delivered another painful blow, "before I kill you."
"Damn!" Vin swerved to stay on the road, squinting through the pouring rain and trying to dial his cell phone at the same time. It was the fifth time he'd tried to call Ezra back in the short time it had taken him to throw on a pair of jeans, run to the jeep and take off to the bar Ezra had mentioned.
His first reaction to hearing Ezra's voice on the end of the line was pure relief. At least Ezra was still talking to them. Then he'd realized Ezra was drunk and part of him wanted to laugh. It must have been a bit humbling for Ezra to make the call, as upset as he was. Fear had taken over when he'd heard the other voice cut across the airwaves and then couldn't get a response from Standish. In the pit of his stomach, Vin knew something was very wrong. He didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned that the bar Ezra had holed up in was so close to Purgatory. 'Certainly isn't up to Ez's normal standards,' he thought as he pulled into the parking lot. Hopping out into the rain, Vin saw Ezra's jag immediately and headed towards, it hoping to find the undercover agent passed out inside. The car was empty though, so Vin headed for the bar's entrance.
Halfway to the door, his foot kicked something and he looked down. His breath caught as he groaned. Reaching down, he picked up the cell phone, recognizing it immediately as Ezra's. He quickly scanned the ground and parking lot for any other sign of the Southerner, but the rain was coming down harder now, obscuring his vision. Shivering, Vin ducked quickly under the ragged canopy and entered the bar.
There were no patrons left in the establishment and Vin headed straight for the bartender.
"We're closing up," the man told him gruffly.
Vin glanced at the clock behind the wall and nodded. "Just need some help finding a friend."
"Can't help you, no one's here." The big man turned his attention back to wiping down the sticky counter.
"He was here a bit ago. Called me for a ride. Brown hair, medium build, a little shorter than me, had an accent." Vin described Ezra quickly. "Drinking heavily."
The bartender sighed as he ran a hand over his balding head, weary from a long night of work. "He was here, but he left," he said simply, remembering the man in question.
"Did you see anyone else with him?" Vin persisted.
"No. He was alone. Came in alone, drank alone and left alone," the bartender snapped.
Vin held up a hand to signal he was backing off. "Thanks anyway."
"Yeah, night." The bartender dismissed him and turned back to his clean up.
"Damn it Ezra, where are you?" Vin asked, stepping back outside. He stood a moment under the awning to think. He knew Ezra had been here. The bar man had confirmed that much, but where would he go? Who belonged to the other voice in the background of Ezra's phone call? Vin looked down at the cell phone in his hand and turned it over, wishing it could answer his questions. His eyes caught on something just under the edge of the protective canopy and he knelt quickly. Vin reached forward to touch the dark stain, fearing the worst and praying he was wrong. Blood, he knew it before he even brought his hand closer to his face to confirm it. Somehow, without a doubt, he knew it was Ezra's blood. Standing, he searched the ground for any other signs of blood. Near the brick of the building, under the tiny overhang, he found another splotch. His fear was growing. Whoever had Standish, had dragged or carried him to this spot and leaned or slammed him against the wall. Vin stepped away from the building and scrutinized the gravel. Even through the rain, he could tell that a vehicle had been parked there recently. Probably a truck by the depth of the indentations where the tires would have been. A truck. The picture of Ezra tossed into the back of pickup like a spare bag of feed flashed through his mind and Vin shook his head as he jogged to his jeep. Once inside and out of the rain he pulled out his own cell phone.
"Larabee," Chris growled after the first ring.
"It's Vin."
"What's wrong?" Chris squinted, his sleep hazed eyes straining to read the clock. 2:30 a. m. Nobody called this late without an emergency.
"Ezra's missing," Vin stated simply.
Chris was struggling to sit up. "What do you mean missing? We know he's pissed. Ain't going to make himself easy to find right now, Vin," Chris managed to say.
"He called me from a bar near my place."
"Your place?" Chris interrupted. Ezra didn't frequent that area of the city unless forced to, and never on his own.
"Yeah, he was drunk and asking for a ride. Heard a voice in the background with him, called him Mr. Simpson and suddenly he was gone."
"What?"
"He was gone. Phone went dead. I got here and found his phone and car, but no Ezra. I found blood, Chris."
"Blood?" Chris rubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself to wake up. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying Ezra's missing and he didn't disappear willingly."
"Shit."
"Yeah." Vin peered through the fogged windows of the jeep. "There's an all night diner across the street, want to meet there?"
"Sounds good. I'll call the others," Chris answered as he grabbed for a pair of jeans, and listened as Vin gave him directions.
A half hour later, Chris was the last one to arrive at the diner. The other five members of his team were already seated at a dingy looking table, sipping coffee and listening to Vin.
"What are we going to do, Chris?" JD asked, handed Chris a mug of hot coffee.
Chris looked at Vin. "What are you thinking?"
Vin shook his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "There's not much to go on at all. The bar's closed now and the bartender was not very cooperative the first time I talked to him."
"We'll talk to him again then," Buck said.
"I think he was taken in a pick up truck, but I can't be positive." Vin sighed heavily wishing he had more to go on.
"Vin and I will start at the bar as soon as it opens," Chris began, as his mind switched into task mode. "Josiah and Nathan, I want you back at the office in case there's some kind of ransom or demand. Start running through files and checking on recent paroles and releases. Anyone who got out recently that might have a vendetta against Ezra."
"That ought take until the next millennia." JD smiled faintly trying to relieve the tension he felt.
Chris almost returned the smile. "JD, you and Buck check out his apartment. Just in case he managed to finagle his way out of whatever he's gotten into. Then get back to the office to help Josiah and Nate."
"How badly hurt do you think he is?" Nathan asked Vin.
"I have no idea. Reckon it could be as simple as a bloody nose." Vin tried to sound positive.
There was silence around the table for a moment as they contemplated the many possibilities.
"Sure wish he wasn't mad at us," JD said softly.
Buck looked at his roommate. "Hell, Ez will calm down. If he's in trouble he'll know we're coming for him."
"Yeah,but he was so upset." JD looked from Buck to the others. "He thinks we don't trust him already. What if he thinks we won't try looking for him? What if he gives up?"
Josiah cleared his throat. "JD, Ezra had sense enough even when he was mad and drunk to call Vin for a ride. Deep inside, he knows we're going to be there for him. He just hasn't figured out how to accept all of it yet."
"I hope so," JD said quietly.
"All right." Chris stood and drained the last of his coffee. "Let's get out there and see what we can find. Before sun up we can cruise the area looking for any sign of him, and startasking if anyone has seen him."
"Sounds good." Buck clapped a hand on JD's back. "Let's get some caffeine to go kid."
"Watch your backs," Chris warned lightly. "And keep in contact." When he stepped outside the diner, he was glad that the rain had finally stopped. "God, I hope you're right, Josiah," hewhispered under his breath.
"Ready?" Vin asked coming up beside him. "Yeah, let's do this."
TBC...
