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.