ATF: Let Not Your Favor and Protection Fail Me

by Lissa Grinstead

A bust goes bad, and Ezra's in a coma. But who is to blame?

Notes:
This is a work of fanfiction, not intended to infringe upon the rights of Trilogy, MGM, or the Mirish Corporation.
The title is from "Don Quixote," by Miguel de Cervantes as are several passages read by Josiah. Commentary and interpretation is, however, mine.
The passage read by JD is from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," by Douglas Adams.

JD was monitoring Ezra's conversation with the suspected arms dealer when he heard it. He dropped his bagel; it landed on the edge of his carton of milk. For a moment, the carton wobbled, then it tipped over, spilling the milk over his pants. Had the milk not splashed on him, JD would not have noticed. He barely noticed anyway.

JD turned to his partner, his face whiter than the spilt milk. "Buck, we got a problem."

Buck looked at him for a moment. JD pointed to the radio. It only took him a second to catch on to Dunne's meaning.

"Shit." Buck picked up the phone and dialed. As soon as the other man answered, Buck spoke up. "Chris, we gotta bring him out. Now."

"Oh god, too late," JD whispered, and began dialing for the medics.

"What the hell happened, Buck?" Chris demanded into the phone. He could hear the scurry of activity as his agents prepared to go in after Ezra. He slammed down the phone and headed down the hall.

"Vin, Josiah, Nathan. Let's go!" Chris shouted on his way to the elevator. The other agents were close behind him. Larabee could see the questions in their eyes. He had no answers for them.

The four men piled into Chris's truck. Nathan's cell phone rang. The senior agent cursed under his breath; he'd forgotten his on the desk.

"Sure he's right here," Nathan answered, before handing over the phone.

"Buck." Chris stated. It was not just an acknowledgement of the man. It was a question and a command. Tell me what the hell happened. Tell me nothing happened. Tell me that everything is all right.

"Chris, it's bad. The paramedics just arrived. Ezra…"

"We'll meet you at the hospital. I'll want a full report then. Why aren't you with him?"

Silence answered him. "Buck?"

Buck and JD paced in the waiting area. As soon as Chris walked in, the air seemed to crackle.

"All right, boys. I want to know. Now."

JD looked over to a chair in the corner of the waiting area. Chris couldn't help himself; his eyes followed the young agent's gaze. Suddenly, it all made sense. Maude.

"She walked into the jewelry store, Chris. We weren't watching the store, too far away. Just listening. I heard her voice. Then Ezra started yelling at her. Said some things I've never heard him say before. She told him she was sorry he'd ever been born. They both said a lot of really awful things. Then he told her to leave him alone. She said fine, if that was what he wanted. A door slammed. That's when the gunshots started." JD was babbling.

Chris saw that Maude was glaring at the team. He looked at JD, but Buck continued for him. "I ain't never heard Ezra talk that way to anyone. I think he did it to make her leave. She blew his cover, Chris. He knew it, and.…"

If he dies…"

"If he dies, Mr. Larabee, you will rue the day you ever met me," a cold voice finished for him.

"I already do." He wanted to see worry or fear or regret…anything…on the face of Ezra's mother. But she merely fixed him with an angry gaze.

Maude approached him. "I've informed the staff of this hospital that Ezra is to have no visitors other than family."

"You can't do that…" JD started.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "We are family."

"You are most certainly not family. You are the reason he is here." With that, she stormed over to the nurse's station, hissing something to the nurse on duty, then she headed to another part of the hospital.

Chris made his way to the desk. "Have you any word on Ezra Standish?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid his mother has requested that that information not be released."

Six sets of eyes regarded the nurse with outright hostility. She buckled. "All right. He's still in surgery. I'll keep you apprised of his condition."

Chris relaxed imperceptibly, then the nurse continued. "But you're not going to be able to visit him."

He glared at her. He knew it was not her fault, but still he was angry, upset, concerned, and frustrated. Someone was bound to be on the receiving end of all that. And this nurse had just been nominated.

"I'm sorry sir. I don't like it either," she whispered. "He needs his friends right now."

Chris nodded.

Maude sat next to Ezra. She hated seeing the tubes and wires coming from her son's body. The doctor had told her that Ezra was in a coma. A bullet had fractured his skull, not just grazed it. A fraction of an inch to the left, and her boy would not be alive. Then there were the three bullets that had entered his chest. He was very lucky that nothing vital had been hit. Maude looked over at the bandages on his left arm where yet another bullet had entered.

"Ezra, I told you this was a ridiculous occupation. You're gonna get yourself killed, I said. But would you listen? No, you're nearly as stubborn as your father. Curse the man."

She was angry with him. The last words he'd spoken to her had been harsh, and no doubt they were so in order to save her life.

"Damn you, Ezra. I taught you better than this. I taught you how to protect yourself, keep yourself alive. What do you do? You walk into stupid situations for men who don't even care enough about you to visit you in the hospital." Maude knew she was lying to him. But it was for his own good. If she could make him believe that those men didn't care what happened to him, he would leave the unit.

"Now, if you'd have listened to me, dear boy, you'd not be lying here now. You'd have met Elizabeth. Have I told you about Elizabeth?"

As Ezra didn't respond, Maude continued. "Charming girl. Enchanting. Quite lovely too. Her father is quite an influential businessman in Switzerland. She's an heiress, my dear. You'd be quite comfortably placed if you were to…. Ah well, I'm afraid that won't be possible now, my boy. You'll have scars from this encounter. Elizabeth would not want a marked man. Such a pity.

"Just like your father you are. More than I wanted you to be. Never could learn how to watch for himself and his family. Damn him too. Had to sit by his bedside when he was dying. Course, this was before you were born. He left me alone with an unborn child, all because of this grandiose notion of honor. Well, I'll have none of that from you. Do you hear me? You're going to survive this. And when you do, you're going to quit this stupid job and come back to New York with me. I'm not taking no.

"Besides, if these men were really your friends, they'd be here for you. Look around you, son. Do you see them here? No one cares about you like your mother, Ezra. No one ever has; no one ever will. It's about time you accepted that and stopped with this game you're playing. I'll not tolerate it any longer.

"Just who the hell do you think you're fooling? Certainly not me. Must be yourself…thinking you can save the world. Or are you trying to irritate me? You're doing a damn fine job of it, I'll tell you that."

Maude kept up this litany for several hours before the nurse came in and told her that visiting hours were over. Maude protested. However, the nurse was adamant and insisted that she leave.

Buck went to the nurse's station. This was an all out covert operation being executed by one of the best teams in the business. They each had their assignments. Buck's was the most important. He was responsible for distracting the nurses. Vin was there to be backup. Buck had resented the implication that he would not be able to sway the nurses, but nonetheless, it was important.

Nathan was posing as an orderly. He would be the one who stayed behind after the rest of the group left, or the one who tried to talk the real medical staff into allowing them to stay if they got caught.

Chris was going to try to make Maude reconsider.

JD and Josiah were to prevent Chris from killing Maude.

It was six against one. Unfortunately, that one thought much like Ezra. And Ezra was one of the most stubborn men the others had ever run up against.

He was vaguely aware that he hurt. But for some reason, he couldn't make himself care or focus on that pain. His friends weren't there. They didn't want to come visit him; they didn't care enough to visit him. He'd screwed up, allowed his cover to be blown by his mother of all people. And lost not only his informant but the opportunity to catch the arms dealer. And his friends were disappointed in him.

He saw Chris hovering over him. "You messed up, Ezra. And it's gonna cost you." Chris turned his back on Ezra.

"You let the team down, Ezra." Nathan's statement was an accusation.

Vin turned away from him.

JD didn't say anything; he just looked at him with a hurt hangdog expression. Buck glared at him. Josiah shook his head.

They were all angry with him for blowing the operation. He'd screwed up.

He heard his mother say, "You walk into stupid situations for men who don't even care enough about you to visit you in the hospital." He was alone. The men who'd breathed judgement down on him disappeared.

Alone. Without recriminations. Without consolation. He was alone. No one cared.

For years, he'd gone without friends. He hadn't needed them or wanted them. Now he found out that he had needed friends. He had wanted friendship. A lifetime of pushing people away didn't teach him how to let them close. These men, his teammates, co-workers, associates, these men were his friends.

But now they were gone. They wanted nothing more to do with him. They were turning him away…cutting him loose…cutting their losses.

Ezra couldn't breathe. His lungs were filled with fire and grief. Ezra fought for a minute. It didn't matter. He couldn't bring himself to care. He'd trusted these men, thought of them as family. Now he regretted not letting them know that. It didn't matter anymore. He couldn't breathe, and he didn't care. He couldn't face going back to the nothingness that would now exist. His life was empty.

JD was watching Ezra's chest. He watched his friend seemingly fight for each breath. "Nathan," the young agent whispered urgently.

Nathan looked at JD.

"He can't breathe."

Suddenly, their covert operation lost its secrecy. They needed to get help. Josiah opened the door and called to the nurses. The room became a flurry of activity as medical personnel came in with equipment.

In a few moments, the crisis was averted. But the equipment stayed as a testament to the fact that Ezra had given up and stopped fighting for a few moments. Chris looked at the others. He could see it in their eyes. No one was leaving until Ezra recovered. Hospital rules, and Maude's wishes, be damned.

Chris was glad that no one had questioned why they were there. He knew that the nurses knew them, as did the doctors. They also knew that the team was not pleased with Maude's dictates concerning this patient. Several of the nurses had taken the time to talk to them, seeming to know of the bond between these men; however, they were bound to respect the wishes of the family…of Maude. At least until Ezra woke up and told them otherwise. No, the nurses had not allowed them to visit with Standish, but they had not kept the team in the dark either.

Sophia, the night nurse, turned to the men standing beside Ezra's bedside. "You shouldn't be here. I'm gonna let you stay, but if anyone says anything, you threatened me. Got that? You better back me up on this."

Buck smiled. "You got it, Sophie. Thanks Darlin'."

Chris nodded. Her statement was true, she just didn't realize it.

Each man settled in. Vin lay out on the floor beside the window; JD sat on the windowsill. Buck sat with his back against the wall. Josiah sat in the chair beside Ezra, holding the injured agent's hand and occasionally touching his forehead. Nathan sat on the foot of the bed.

Josiah put a hand on Ezra's head. "Stay with us, brother." The words were spoken softly, so as not to disturb the injured member of their group. "We're here. We're not leaving."

Chris walked over to the southerner's side. He looked over at Nathan. "Can you tell us how it is?"

Nathan reached over and picked up the medical chart. He read over it and shook his head. "It's bad Chris. Five bullet wounds. One to the skull. That much you can see. Lost a lot of blood. They had to transfuse three pints, that's a hell of a lot."

Chris nodded.

"He's in a coma."

They all had known that. But it had not been said amongst them. Saying it meant that it was so.

They all knew the risks that Ezra took every time he went undercover. The risk that his cover might be blown and he wouldn't be able to get out. They'd all gone in undercover before, but this was Ezra's specialty. He did it far more often, and he'd often been injured. But his cover had never been so thoroughly blown before.

Never in their wildest plans could they have anticipated Maude spotting Ezra and revealing his true identity.

Yet that was what happened.

And Ezra had risked his own life to ensure her safety. He'd made her angry enough that she would leave and not get hurt.

Chris paced the length of the room. The situation was frustrating. Maude had nearly gotten Ezra killed. Now she was dictating to him….to THEM. That woman was a menace.

Ezra was the only member of their group whose mother yet lived. When Chris had first met Maude, he was momentarily envious that Ezra still had that relationship. But then he got to know Maude, and he was no longer certain that Ezra was fortunate that he still had his mother's "love."

Unlike the rest of the men, Ezra had never spoken about his mother, not until she arrived. Then he seemed to spend most of his time doing damage control.

JD constantly talked about his mother; Vin had mentioned how much his mother meant to him. Buck's mother was, in Buck's mind, a saint. Nathan had spoken of how courageous he thought his mother was. Josiah had spoken lovingly of his mother. Chris's own mother had been wonderful. All of them had mothers who had cared for them. And they had all known that their mothers had cared.

But every time Maude came into town, Ezra went on a bender; it usually took all of the undercover agent's considerable skills to deal with the situation. The relationship could be considered "strained" at the best of times. And this was not the best of times. Ezra didn't have the strength to deal with the force that was his mother now.

So this time, the team would have to do it for him.

Sophia opened the door and looked at the men surrounding the ICU's newest patient. She wanted to speak to the leader of the group. When she caught his attention, she motioned for him to join her outside.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

"You need to know something. She told him you wouldn't come visit him. I don't know if he heard her or not. It's hard to tell."

"That…." Chris bit off his statement before he finished it.

"He may not have heard her, but she said it several times. I kicked her out because I couldn't stand how she was talking to him any longer."

Chris raised an eyebrow and Sophia continued. "She berated him and blamed him. Cursed him. What kind of a mother curses her son while he's in a coma?"

He shook his head. "When Maude comes back, let me know. I got some words for that woman."

Sophia nodded. "I'm glad he has someone here now who cares."

Chris went back into the room. Josiah was reading to Ezra. The others were sprawled out in the room.

"At last, when his wits were gone beyond repair, he came to conceive the strangest idea that ever occurred to any madman in this world. It now appeared to him fitting and necessary, in order to win a greater amount of honour for himself and serve his country at the same time, to become a knight-errant and roam the world on horseback, in a suit of armour; he would go in quest of adventures, by way of putting into practice all that he had read in his books; he would right every manner of wrong, placing himself in situations of the greatest peril such as would redound to the eternal glory of his name. As a reward for his valour and the might of his arm, the poor fellow could already see himself crowned Emperor of Trebizond at the very least; and so, carried away by the strange pleasure that he found in such thoughts as these, he at once set about putting his plan into effect."

Chris took Ezra's other hand and squeezed it a moment. "What are you reading, Josiah?"

Josiah paused and looked up at him, "Um… oh 'Don Quixote,' by Miguel de Cervantes. A tale of a man who takes it upon himself to right the wrongs of the world. His family thought him insane."

"Was he?"

"Hard to say there, Chris. Depends on the perspective you've got. Is it insane to help the oppressed?"

Larabee shook his head.

"Course, Don Quixote did have a way of seeing his world which could be considered different. Ever heard of 'Tilting at Windmills'?" When Chris nodded, Josiah continued. "Don Quixote saw a windmill as a giant and attacked it. He perceived the danger and did his utmost to quell it. But there was no threat from a windmill. It was all in his mind. He was an idealist, seeing the best in people and taking people at their word. And because of that, he was considered a madman."

"What happened to him?" Chris asked.

Josiah flashed him a big smile, then started reading again from the book.

Josiah read for a while, then woke Nathan up to sit with Ezra. Nathan continued reading where Josiah had left off. So it went for the whole night. Someone staying awake and reading to Ezra the entire night. When Nathan could no longer keep awake, he woke up JD.

So it went throughout the night.

Maude burst into the room around 11 a.m. "What are you men doing here? I left specific instructions that you men were not allowed," she stated coldly.

Chris looked at her. "Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere."

"We'll discuss it here. Now."

"All right. Why'd you tell Ezra we didn't care enough to visit him?"

"Have you stooped to eavesdropping on your friends and their FAMILY, Mr. Larabee" Maude was clearly outraged.

Chris fixed her with a steely gaze. "We're here because he is our family. Like it or not, this team is a family. And we stick together. Nothing and no one, not even you, will come between us. Am I clear?"

"You are responsible for him getting injured," she asserted.

"No ma'am," JD said. "You are. You blew his cover. Maybe you didn't know he was undercover. But you definitely blew his cover."

"Are you saying this is my fault?" While Chris had kept his voice level, Maude began speaking more loudly. "I assure you, Mr. Larabee, if you had not recruited my son into your band of misbegotten misfits, this would never have occurred. You are responsible."

Ezra stirred slightly and groaned. "Please." He didn't awaken, and no further comments were forthcoming. Nonetheless, all attention was diverted from Maude to the injured man lying in the bed, looking small, helpless and frail. Maude stormed out of the room, but no one noticed.

Josiah's large hand closed around a pale, cold one. "Ezra?"

The men had become accustomed to the soft beeping of the machines monitoring their friend's condition. So when the pace of the beeping increased, they were immediately aware of it.

"Come on Ezra, wake up," JD whispered.

The southerner didn't respond to their request; the beeping became more rapid. A glance to Nathan confirmed that this was not a good sign.

"Dammit Ezra, don't you run out on me!" Chris shouted at him. Five sets of eyes turned to Chris in shock. He continued to rail at his agent. "Don't you dare! We ain't gonna run out on you, now wake up."

In response, Ezra laid there unmoving, but the machines resumed their original rhythm. On some level, Standish could hear them and had decided to stay.

"No sooner had he fallen than the student was upon him. Seizing the basin from the knight's head, he struck him three or four blows with it across the shoulders and banged it against the ground an equal number of times until it was fairly shattered to bits. They then stripped Don Quixote of the doublet which he wore over his armor, and would have taken his hose as well, if his greaves had not prevented them from doing so, and made off with Sancho's greatcoat, leaving him naked; after which, dividing the rest of the battle spoils amongst themselves, each of them went his own way, being a good deal more concerned with eluding the dreaded Holy Brotherhood than they were with burdening themselves with a chain or going to present themselves before the lady Dulcinea del Toboso.

"They were left alone now--the ass and Rocinante, Sancho and Don Quixote; the ass, crestfallen and pensive, wagging its ears now and then, being under the impression that the hurricane of stones that had raged about them was not yet over; Rocinante, stretched alongside his master, for the hack had also been felled by a stone; Sancho, naked and fearful of the Holy Brotherhood; and Don Quixote, making wry faces at seeing himself so mishandled by those to whom he had done so much good."

As the commotion had died down, the men settled back into the watchful routine. Josiah read "Don Quixote" to Ezra and the others. The story served a double purpose, letting their friend know they were there and keeping the speculations about his condition unvoiced.

Chris kept his eyes on the door, waiting for the force that was Maude to return, with reinforcements. The others were prepared to fight to stay as well, but they also had to keep calm. Ezra had not responded well to the last verbal barrage from Maude.

"Hey Josiah," JD said.

Josiah stopped reading and looked at him. "Hmmm?"

"Why this book? Why not something a little more current?"

Josiah looked at the other men. "Don Quixote is about a man who abandons his family and worldly goods in order to protect the innocent. His story ends when his family brings him back and forces him to give up his ideals. He dies shortly after that, deprived of his true reason for living and unable to embrace it any longer."

Chris could only hope that Ezra's story didn't end similarly.

Maude came back into the room and fixed each of the team members with an icy stare that could match in intensity any given by Chris Larabee. "I want you to leave my son immediately."

"No." The word was spoken by seven voices. One weaker than all the others, but still loud enough to be heard.

"Ezra, darling, my sweet boy," Maude cooed, rushing to his side.

Standish opened his eyes slightly, but didn't focus on any one in the room. He didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings or anyone in the room.

"Ezra?" Maude repeated.

Ezra's eyes settled on her, but there was no recognition in them. He squinted at her, as if trying to determine what she was saying. Then he closed his eyes without responding to anyone.

Chris tapped Maude on the shoulder. "I think he made his wishes known. We're staying."

"I refuse to stay in the same room as the men responsible for my son dying."

"Ain't NO one in this room dyin!" Buck asserted roughly. "Got that? Cuz I don't want to hear it again."

"Buck," Chris warned.

"She wants to write him off, and keep us away. I'm not going to let that happen."

"None of us are."

The six men became a wall facing Maude. Chris watched as, for a moment, Maude allowed the fear and worry to replace the anger in her eyes. He could tell then that this was her way of dealing with Ezra's condition. Like her son, Maude pushed people away when she needed them most.

"We're staying. You're welcome to join us. But don't expect us to leave," Chris said softly.

"Tell my son to call me when he recovers. That is, if you can respect his mother's wishes in that matter." With that, Maude turned and left.

The team looked at one another. Then Josiah started to read again while Vin moved to inform the doctor that Ezra had awakened briefly.

Three days (and four classical pieces of literature ranging from Don Quixote to the Divine Comedy) later, Ezra still lay in a coma. He had awakened briefly twice during that time, but had not really been aware of his surroundings. Nathan had tried to reassure everyone that this was nothing to be worried about. But they were worried. They knew that he could awaken in five minutes, or never. With his head injury, no one knew if the Ezra who awakened would be the one they knew.

But none of them wanted to think about that. Instead, they read to him. It provided a constant comforting sound, and kept them from voicing their fears.

JD finally tired of Josiah's choices for reading material and left. Buck shrugged at Chris, who worried about the strain this was placing on the team. The Bureau was getting antsy over the absence of Team Seven. Several agents had come by, bringing food for the worried members, and expressing concern for Agent Standish. But none of the higher ups had the wherewithal to face Chris Larabee and tell him that the others needed to report back to the office. Chris knew damn well it wouldn't happen. When one member of Team Seven was hospitalized, the remaining agents stayed with him. They were a team completely. All or none. Period. That was Larabee's unspoken policy, and it was one that they all respected.

An hour later, the young agent returned to the hospital room. Chris merely raised an eyebrow. JD grinned broadly and held up a "Barnes and Noble" bag. Chris wasn't sure whether he should be relieved that JD had procured a book, or worried. Buck took Josiah's current selection, "The Metamorphosis" (which Chris now knew was written by Franz Kafka) and tossed it to Chris.

JD placed his selection in the larger man's hand. "Read him this."

Josiah looked at the cover and raised an eyebrow.

"The classics ain't working, and I figure we been cultured enough for three days. 'Sides, everyone should read this book, and I just bet Ezra hasn't. If nothing else, maybe he'll wake up, if only to ask what kind of abomination we're reading." JD smiled. Chris almost smiled at the logic.

"'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'?" Josiah questioned.

"Yeah. This is a great book."

Buck nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah. Not quite as good as some of them books by 'Anonymous,' but we wouldn't want to corrupt JD."

"Tell ya what JD. Why don't you read for a while?" Josiah handed him the book and stood up, stretching himself to his fullest. "I need something to drink." Josiah looked around. "Anyone else?"

Nathan stood up and joined him. "Back in ten, Chris."

Chris nodded and watched as JD took Josiah's seat and began to read to Ezra.

"Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

"Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.

"This planet has--or rather had--a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy."

Chris listened to JD's voice as he read the book. He'd heard of this book, but had never read it. But the discussion about money and unhappiness seemed so fitting for Ezra.

JD continued. "And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.

"Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, a terrible, stupid catastrophe occurred, and the idea was lost for ever.

"This is not her story."

"Then why in god's name are you reading me this …. this… Mr. Dunne, what is this?" Ezra's voice was weak. But he clearly was aware of his surroundings

"Ezra, you with us?" Buck asked.

Ezra opened his eyes and looked at them. "What happened?"

"Cover got blown, pard. Glad to have you back." Vin's voice was quiet, but Ezra had drifted back to sleep before Vin had finished speaking.

When Josiah and Nathan returned, they were greeted with smiles. Not the tight smiles of greeting that they were accustomed to. These were genuine smiles.

"He woke up. Doctor says he's just sleeping now."

The room erupted with smiles and relaxed laughter, when Ezra opened his eyes again. "Must you be quite so expressive? I've an abominable headache."

Chris nodded to Buck, who went for a nurse. The team leader sat down next to his injured agent. "I'm not surprised. How do you feel otherwise?"

"Like someone with a rather ineffective aim used my person for target practice."

"Do you remember what happened?" Chris asked him.

Ezra thought a moment, then shook his head.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Josiah asked.

"Briefing Mr. Larabee, Mr. Wilmington, and Mr. Dunne regarding the plan for busting the arms dealer posing as a jeweler." He winced. "I take it that the operation did not go well?"

"Brother, you've a gift for understatement," Josiah stated. Ezra closed his eyes.

By the time the nurse came in, Ezra was asleep. She checked him over, then smiled. "He'll be fine. But he's probably going to spend a lot of time sleeping over the next few days."

Ezra was vaguely aware of voices arguing in the room. He was inclined to request that they quiet down when he started to listen to the argument. It was between Buck and JD. And they were arguing about "Don Quixote," of all things. Buck was of the opinion that the man was a deluded idiot; JD was of the opinion that the knight-errant was an idealist.

"JD, the man wore a cardboard helmet. Ain't no way that was gonna stop a sword."

"Buck, you're missing the point. It don't matter what he was wearing. Don Quixote tried to help the innocent.'

"And just as often ended up hurtin' em."

JD sighed. "All I know is this, Buck. He didn't just talk about helpin' people. He did something about it. He went against everything he'd ever been taught because he believed he was doing the right thing."

"As entertaining as this discussion is," Ezra whispered, "would you mind conducting it elsewhere?"

"Hey Ezra. How ya feeling?"

Ezra opened one eye and fixed it on the enthusiastic youth. "Like I been shot. You?"

JD appeared appropriately chastised.

"I am rather surprised the two of you have read Don Quixote," Ezra mumbled

"Josiah read it. We kinda had to listen. Not a bad tale."

"One might consider Mr. Cervantes to be a 'Mel Brooks' of sort. Don Quixote was written to parody genres of the day, particularly the pastoral romance. Since you are quite fond of movies such as 'Airplane' and 'Repossessed,' I would expect you'd rather enjoy the story." Ezra ordinarily enjoyed a good discussion of literature, and he'd not had the opportunity lately, but he was quite tired.

"No kiddin, Ez?" JD asked. Ezra heard him, he just didn't have the energy to respond and he drifted back to sleep.

Every time Ezra woke up, someone was with him. Chris and Vin, Nathan and Josiah, Buck and JD. They spent time with him in shifts. He wasn't alone.

He still had no idea what had gone wrong with the bust, and none of his friends could tell him. He assumed he'd screwed up in some way and that they didn't know what it was. All he knew was that his informant was dead, and all the evidence on the arms dealer was gone.

But despite the fact that he had screwed up, the team had not deserted him. This meant a lot to him. Not that he'd ever mention that to them.

It was nearly two weeks before Standish had recovered enough that he could be released from the hospital, but even then he was not left alone. The whole team took him to his townhouse, and no one was willing to leave, despite Ezra's hints that he needed rest.

Finally, Ezra gave up and retired to his room, leaving his friends to fend for themselves in his living room. He shut the door to his room, and found Maude on the settee.

"Mother?" Ezra kept the shock out of his voice. He didn't even realize she knew he'd been hurt.

She smiled a tight-lipped smile at him. "You look much better than the last time I saw you."

Ezra raised an eyebrow, not even trying to decipher her cryptic remark. "I'm sorry, Mother. Could we postpone this discussion until tomorrow? I'm quite exhausted at present."

"I just wanted to see you. I've been worried about you."

Ezra looked at her. "Obviously not enough that you were willing to visit me in the hospital."

Instead of denying the accusation, she nodded. "Son, you know how hospitals make me feel. Besides, you had your friends there. You didn't need me."

Ezra didn't say anything, he merely walked into his closet and took off his jacket. He had needed her to be there, to show him that she'd cared. Yet, once again, she had not been willing to do that.

Maude stood and walked over to him. "Ezra, I know I don't show it to you often. I worry about you. You…son you're all I have left of your father. Please do try to be careful."

Ezra smiled a half smile at her. "I'll keep that in mind, Mother."

"Do that. Are your friends still here?"

"Afraid so."

Maude shook her head. "I must be off, dear boy." She brushed her hand against his cheek, and left the room.

Ezra shook his head, then undressed and climbed into his bed.

Maude waited a few minutes then went back into her son's bedroom. She was sure he'd be asleep. She was right. Maude pulled a chair up next to him and sat down.

Maude wanted to tell him so much. She wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted to tell him she worried about him. She wanted to let him know she was sorry she'd interfered with his job and almost gotten him killed.

She wanted to apologize to his friends. Her guilt over what had happened had made her treat them abominably. She just wanted Ezra safe. How could she protect her baby boy when he deliberately placed himself in positions where he could get killed? All of them did.

She kissed him on the forehead. "Take care of yourself, Ezra."

Maude almost smiled when she walked in the living room. Agent Wilmington was sprawled out on the couch, asleep. Agent Tanner was on the Oriental carpet. Agents Sanchez and Jackson each had taken a position in one of the overstuffed chairs. Agent Dunne was in Ezra's window seat. But Agent Larabee surprised her.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading something. He signaled for her to join him.

"Ezra always has the best coffee. Would you care for a cup?" He pushed a cup to her, as if he'd been expecting her.

Maude raised and eyebrow and sat down.

"He doesn't remember. And I'm not plannin on tellin him."

"But you do blame me."

"You couldn't know. I listened to the tape. You didn't say or do anything out of the ordinary. There was no way you could have known about this operation. All you did was greet your son, and harass him about a special woman in his life. This isn't your fault. The conversation would have been quite entertaining, if Ezra hadn't been undercover at the time."

"Nonetheless," she started to say.

"I won't have you blaming yourself. You need to understand this, we are more than a team. The only thing I blame you for is keeping us away from him, and telling him we didn't care." He stared at her.

Maude nodded her head, and suddenly realized that she'd just gained six more men to worry about. Not that she'd ever let them know.