A/N: So I wasn't sure I was ever going to update this, I hated the first section for awhile, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the chapter as a whole, but I guess that's for you guys to tell me right?
Obviously contains spanking.
Shout-out to the reviewers: Alba (sorry I made you wait so long, but here it is) 5-star (Thank you!) Michele (It took awhile, but here you go) Mhart(Thanks :) This chapter deals more with Ezra and Josiah, but there is some Chris at the beginning) Wowed reader (Yay, that's exactly what I wanted to happen. We may eventually see that...) Kittyranma (Thank you, hope you like this part) Jewell Trim (Lol *blushes* I know what you mean about more than you should. Ezra will *eventually* find his way home) busaikosensei (I have to admit it was the previews for the new movie way back before it came out that had me rewatching the series, and then I was like I wonder if there is fanfiction for it...and then it took over my life, lol. Poor thing, he *is* doing pretty well isn't he? Hope you like this part) Annie Jones (Thank you :) it was inspired by one of the prompt lists on spank_world, you might want to check it out) Ooshaboosha (your wish has *finally* been granted, lol) Tobecat (your welcome :))
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Once he was sure Ezra was truly asleep, about ten minutes after his breathing had evened out and gotten deeper, Chris carefully got up from his desk, not walking too softly as that was just as likely to wake the undercover agent, on alert for being snuck up on when on a job, as heavy footfalls would. In his apartment, at Josiah's or in the guest room at the ranch the man slept like a log, anywhere else and he could wake almost as quick as Vin, and Chris wanted him to sleep for a good long while. He kept his pace calm and steady as he headed for the door.
He worried about all his men, more than they knew, sometimes for different reasons, but the worry was the same. With Ezra, who was so often away, in situations where he could be and had been hurt in the past...well, he slept better when he knew all his agents were at home, in their own beds.
Much as he complained about them filling the place up, Chris slept best when they were all packed into the ranch, both guest rooms full and the couches in the living room and den being fought over. Even if it meant he sometimes got woken up at two in the morning by a food fight, like at the last team weekend. He'd expected to find Vin and JD, Nathan though, he had been a surprise. He hadn't had the heart to hand out more than a swat or two before he'd made them clean up their mess and sent them back to bed. Nathan was so serious most of the time, they all forgot he was only 29, much closer in age to their youngest three than to the "old men". Wasn't as often as he liked he got to see that grin.
When Vin had ducked and the handful of leftover mac and cheese Nathan had been tossing at him had smacked Chris in the chest it hadn't been as nice, but the horrified look on the man's face had been pretty damn funny. Walking through the row of desks towards the break room, Chris jerked his head at Josiah, getting the big man to follow him. Once they were inside, door firmly shut, Chris leaned back against the table, arms out to support him on either side, Josiah leaning against the counter opposite, an eyebrow raised in concern. "Something's wrong with Ezra."
The older man straightened a bit, "Chris, I told you something was going on with our black sheep two days ago." There was a definite air of-not told you so, exactly, there was no smugness, but something similar coming from the big man, and Chris nodded jerkily. He was a lot of things, but too proud to admit he was wrong wasn't one of them, not when it came to his team, or at least Chris tried not to be.
He was getting better at it, anyway.
"I know. I should have listened."
"What changed your mind?"
Chris wasn't sure how to say it, so he just said it, "I'd never say a word to the boys on how they handle a licking, b-"
"I'd certainly hope not." There was a little growl in Josiah's voice now, a shift in posture definitely intended to remind Chris that, boss or not, Josiah was the oldest in their little makeshift family. He wasn't intimidated, he and Josiah were on an equal playing field when it came to discipline, and he hadn't done anything wrong.
"But, I still notice and pay attention. Ezra, today...he didn't fight me, didn't have a million reasons that it wasn't his fault." Josiah straightened at this, mild concern replaced with actual worry, and Chris nodded grimly, "Even when it's been obvious he felt guilty, that's never happened before."
"He had had a shock...nearly being run over, like that."
Chris nodded again, but he didn't think that was it, and judging from the look on Josiah's face he didn't really, either. "Maybe...but it wasn't just that. You know how hard he tries to keep from crying most of the time, it's gotten better, but the damned FBI..." He felt his own face twist in disgust, what they had done to his agent...
"The scars might not be physical..." The profiler sighed angrily, and Chris was sure he was thinking of bloody lips and palms with fingernail imprints indented so deep they were almost cuts. It had been almost two years Ezra had been with them, and that had stopped almost immediately, but Chris would never forget the first time Ezra had broken down and let himself cry, and how he'd thought-he'd thought Chris would beat him for it.
Because that was what he had been expecting, whatever they'd taught him to call it. Before that Chris had just thought he wasn't much of a crier, some people weren't, and while Chris did look for signs that a punishment was being accepted, he wasn't one of those who kept it at until there were tears no matter what. The first time he'd helped him up and seen a bloody lip, he'd assumed it was pride, that he was too embarrassed to break down, and just told him there was no need for that. To find out that Ezra had been trained not to, that he'd needed that release and not been allowed it...
There was a reason that after only one case Travis had explicitly put in Team Seven's file that they were not to be paired with any FBI team out of the Atlanta office, under any circumstances, ever. It was better for the FBI's health and Travis's racquetball arm.
Chris didn't think he'd sat right for most of the next week, by far the worse strapping the A.D. had ever given him, but it had been more than worth it. Josiah, who'd been bent over the desk next to him, had wholeheartedly agreed later, when they'd been standing at the bar in Inez's saloon, downing beers and ignoring repeated jokes from Buck about why they wouldn't come sit in the booth with the rest of them. "Chris?" He shook himself, realizing that he'd never finished explaining, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Ez cried pretty easy, pretty easy and pretty hard this time. Should be a good thing, I know."
"But it's not like him, and it worried you." Chris said nothing, figuring he didn't have to if it was that obvious. "Do you want me to talk to him?"
"Doubt he'll be happy about the topic, but yeah. Keep him close?"
Josiah nodded confidently, "Been awhile since I had him over for dinner, was planning to ask him this weekend, anyway. A little early doesn't hurt. He left some overnight things last time, so we should be all set."
"Thanks, 'Siah."
"Don't mention it." He dropped a hand to Chris's shoulder and squeezed lightly, "Thank you for letting me help instead of handling it all yourself." Both praise and a subtle scolding for the fact that he usually wouldn't have, and Chris glared at Josiah who just grinned back.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Josiah squatted down next to the couch Ezra had burrowed into the back of, a soft, but worried, smile playing over his face. Ezra regularly fell asleep at the end of a punishment, not an uncommon reaction, but he generally didn't sleep for hours. "Ezra, time to wake up, son." Nothing, so he gingerly placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder and shook him gently. The first time he'd done this, he'd gotten a fist to the face, and before he knew it an adrenaline high and still half asleep Ezra had been on the other side of the room casting about for a weapon.
It was a reasonable reaction for a undercover agent who couldn't depend on back up to come when he called for it. He still flinched sometimes, every once in awhile his hand would start to swing, but even that had been fading away slowly. Today, all Ezra did was swat idly at Josiah's hand and moan, snuggling deeper into the back of the couch, and some of the worry left his smile. "Sorry Ezra, but it's lunchtime, got to get up." No response.
"Tell 'im if he gets his butt up now we'll let him pick one of his fancy-smancy restaurants!" Buck all but hollered, leaning in the doorway, "But if not both me and Vin are voting for Denny's."
"Bucklin..." Josiah sighed.
"What?"
"You know it's Ezra's turn to pick anyway." It was a Team Seven rule, and one of the signs Chris wasn't quite the hard-ass he came off as, that if someone had been punished that day and it was over, they got to pick lunch.
"Well then, my treat if he gets his butt up now, how's that? Just him though, I ain't talking about the rest of you lugs."
Before Josiah had time to wonder about the unexpected generosity, Vin pushed his way in front of Buck, stepping on his foot and dodging an elbow to his gut in the process, "C'mon Ez, Chris won't let us go without ya, and I'm hungry enough to eat my own foot, toenails and all."
That did get a reaction out of Ezra, who slowly rolled over, one arm moving to cover his eyes, and declared emphatically, if quietly, "Mr. Tanner that is the most disgusting thing Ah have had the misfortune to hear since the last time Ah dined with you. Once again, mah appetite has entirely departed, thanks to your masterful way with words." Well, it certainly seemed like Ezra was in top form right now, even with his eyes still half squinted against the light. Rather, Josiah thought, with a hidden frown, like he was putting on a show.
"That better not mean you're planning on skipping lunch again Ezra, we talked about that." Nathan scowled over Buck's shoulder at the prone figure, and Josiah frowned again, not hiding it this time.
"Ezra, have you been skipping meals?" Ezra mouthed something at Nathan that looked a lot like 'snitch' and answered his question for him. "While you're not skipping this one, c'mon, let's get up." He hauled Ezra first into a sitting position, and then to his feet, overlooking the rather rude muttered protests coming from him as he held him up until he found his balance.
"Mr. Sanchez, Ah really am not hungry this afternoon."
"Then you can get something light." He pushed lightly on Ezra's lower back to get him moving, the others finally pulling back from the tangle they'd created in the doorway.
"Josiah, Ah-ow!" Josiah ignored the accusing look Ezra shot him over his shoulder and just continued to bundle the younger man along in front of him. He'd barely tapped him, and he should know by now what to expect if he argued with him over something like his health.
"No arguing, Ezra." The audible sigh that came from the boy at that had likely been accompanied by an eye roll, Josiah chuckling as he gave him another light shove out into the hallway.
"Alright Ez, so where we headed?" Buck said, "Wherever you want, as long as you don't break my bank. And I don't have to eat snails."
"Mr. Wilmington, Ah am not surprised that your pedestrian tastes do not enjoy the delights of es cargo-"
"But you told me you hated that stuff, Ez, that you thought half the people who ate it did, and just ate it to impress each other?"
"...Thank you for that, JD, really."
"Were you going to try and force me to eat snails? Seriously?" Buck snorted and reached out to mess up Ezra's hair like he would JD's, but the man ducked under it, neatly sidestepping away and leveling a truly impressive glare at Buck that was only ruined by the mischief shining in his eyes. "See if I pay for your lunch now."
There was just a hint of an awkward pause before Ezra's next words, as though the man weren't quite sure if Buck were teasing or not, "You know, Buck, you are under no obligation to do so, as Ah did not actually rise when you offered the free meal."
"Nah, it was close enough," Buck darted a look at Josiah, who nodded, not liking that either. For Ezra not to jump on an offer of something free, especially an expensive lunch of his choice, was not like him at all. Josiah had seen his thumb rubbing against the cuff of his shirt sleeve for just a second too, something he knew Ezra only did when stressed, and even then, rarely, "'Sides, pretty sure I owe you a lunch from that stake out a while ago."
"So, you were just pretending to be magnanimous? Ah should have known." Buck snorted as Ezra pretended to tsk at him in shame, "In that case-how about Benito's?" The rest of the group made appreciative noises, including Buck, but Josiah frowned deeper. Benito's was a nice Italian restaurant, a little pricey for what it was, but with big servings and a wide variety of somewhat Americanized Italian dishes. You could get pizza there, which was probably why JD was so happy. If Ezra had been choosing where he truly wanted to go it might have been Italian, but it wouldn't have been a family friendly restaurant that served pizza. He wouldn't have chosen anything extremely expensive or outlandish either, but Josiah's worry was climbing ever higher. He wasn't going to invite him over yet-it would give him far too much time to come up with a plausible excuse-but it was clear to him that Ezra did not need to be alone tonight.
Chris emerged from the break room he'd turned into a temporary office while Ezra was sleeping, interrupting Josiah's train of thought, "Alright, we ready to go? Vin, where's your coat?"
"It ain't that cold, I don't need it."
"Vin."
"Oh, c'mon, cowboy." Vin was shifting under Chris's steely eyed glare, but still grinned just a bit at him, not moving. Josiah smirked, more serious battle of wills between the two were anyone's guess, but for minor things like this, it always ended the same way.
"One." Vin went and got his coat, dodging out of the way of the swat Chris swung at him as he sidled past.
*.*.*.*.*.*
Ezra grimaced in amusement and disgust as JD shoved what seemed to be almost an entire slice of pizza in his mouth in record time, "Young man, we are in a restaurant. Could you perhaps devour your meal with a bit more decorum?" JD looked confused for a second, then sheepish, hastily swallowing what must have been a painfully large bite.
"Sorry, Ez." He nodded, still amused, and turned back to his linguine, not surprised when JD's next bites, well smaller, were still shoved in his mouth and swallowed too quickly to truly be considered polite. Then he frowned-his pasta had come with spinach and clams, why was there a pile of green peppers on his plate? He detested green peppers and looked around, wondering who had foisted them off on him. Ezra supposed there must be some sort of rule about clearing one's plate, or at least eating your vegetables, likely enacted by Mr. Jackson, that was the cause of this. He'd ordinarily say JD or Vin were the most likely culprits, but John Daniel would eat anything on pizza, possibly literally, and Vin was all the way across the table. Either Buck or Josiah, on either side of him had to be the perpetrator.
Before he could say anything a sigh and, "Really Buck?", came from Nathan, and with a grumble that looked like it was hiding a hint of a grin, Buck slid his plate over and scooped the pile onto the edge, pulling it back towards him.
"Unkind, Mr. Wilmington, truly."
"I was just trying to help you get more of that balanced diet Nate's always going on about. Really, pard, just thinking of ya." Buck's cheeky grin was followed by a wink at the end, and Ezra laughed out loud, shaking his head.
"Ah assure you Ah eat far more fruits and vegetables than you do."
"And nearly as many sweets as Vin, even if they do tend to be the bakery variety." Nathan interrupted, before turning to Buck, "Doesn't change the fact that he's right. You shouldn't have ordered something with green peppers if you didn't want them, anyway. Eat every vegetable on that plate, Buck, and I mean it." Buck made a waving off motion at him, chuckling, but Ezra noticed that his next bite had a slice of green pepper in it.
It seemed that Nathan being "in charge" of the team's health was a bit more literal here. Really, Ezra should have expected that.
The rest of the meal went relatively normally, everyone joking back and forth, the biggest difference Ezra could detect was that Chris followed up the glare that stopped JD and Vin from blowing soda on each other through their straws with a threat that if they did it again they'd be finishing their meals standing up. Considering Vin had come very close to spattering his suit, Ezra wouldn't have had much of a problem with this.
As the waitress came and handed out the bills, already knowing to divide them individually, Ezra picked up his and went to reach for his wallet, only to have the bill snatched out of his hand, and looked up, confused, to Buck shaking his head at him, slightly exasperated, "Hoss, I already told ya, I offered and I owe ya for the stakeout anyway, I got this."
"Ah don't want to put you out-"
"Ezra, you ain't." There was a sternness in his face that Ezra had only ever seen him direct towards JD, and he rather considered simply dropping the matter, but, well, he hadn't been on that stakeout with Buck, and therefore the man didn't owe him anything.
"But-ow!" His words were cut off as Buck used his shoulder to tip him sideways, landing a stinging swat halfway between the side and back of his thigh, before lowering him back down to his seat. Ezra, face flaming, chanced a quick look around, expecting to see the entire place staring at him, but no one had even looked over.
"I wanna buy my friend, who had a rough morning, lunch. You gonna let me or do I have to do that again?" Ezra shook his head, and Buck's face was back to it's usual smile, hand moving to clap Ezra on the shoulder. "Good. That's real good, Hoss."
*.*.*.*.*.*
Ezra frowned down at his steering wheel, not sure how he'd wound up at Josiah's for the night, but entirely sure his agreement had been all but coerced.
He had after all, only assented to come over for supper(and even that had been under heavy duress)and perhaps to watch a movie after, and the next thing he knew the man was telling him there was no need to go back to his house and grab an overnight bag, he had left a change of clothes and anything else he'd need from the last time he stayed over. Because apparently sleepovers with the team's profiler were something this world's Ezra did on a regular basis.
It wasn't that Ezra had never spent the night at Josiah's before, he had. Exactly twice. Once, when he'd not realized how ill he was until he'd stood up at the end of the day and all but fallen over. Josiah had been the only one left in the office besides him and had laughed when Ezra had tried to say he was fine to drive himself home. He hadn't actually realized the older man wasn't just giving him a ride until they pulled up in front of Mr. Sanchez's place, and by that point he was so sick Ezra had been relieved when Josiah had simply ignored his demands to be taken home. The second time, he hadn't quite realized how low his tolerance had gotten after a few months undercover with a fanatical religious group that had no problem with guns, but considered anything stronger than root beer to be the devil's brew. He'd willing handed over his keys when asked, though as it had been a Chris who was about three sheets to the wind himself who'd asked Ezra, Buck had quickly intervened, snagging both Ezra's keys and the keys to the Ram without Chris even noticing, and passing Ezra's keys over to Josiah. Ezra had been surprised at how quick Buck had picked up on it when he'd been teaching him pick-pocketing skills (it was useful for undercover work no matter how Nathan had looked at him when he'd found out what the lessons Ezra had been offering consisted of), until he'd told him he'd had to fish Chris's keys out of his pocket to get him in his house while being the only thing keeping the older man from face planting more times than he could count, and it all became clear. He stiffened a bit as he felt Josiah walking up to his car, but tried not to let on that he'd noticed him, not sure how to explain what he was doing.
"You going to sit in your car all night?" Ezra looked up and tried to flash a winning smile at Josiah, but felt completely certain that it had fallen flat as the other man's face didn't react to it at all.
"Oh, Mistah Sanchez, Ah apologize, Ah must have gotten lost in thought."
Josiah gave him a thoughtful look, rumbling, "Must have been pretty important to keep you sitting there for nearly ten minutes," as he pulled open Ezra's door for him, Ezra hurrying to undo his seatbelt before he decided to do it for him.
He'd noticed that physical touching, the rules for personal space, at least with friends and family seemed to be rather different than in his own universe. He had grown used to some casual touching since joining Team 7, roughhousing, slaps on the back, the occasional squeeze of his shoulder or neck, or an arm slung about his shoulders(or his neck, if Buck were drunk enough, pulling him in for a squeeze that half strangled him), even the odd hug, but this version of Team 7 took things to a whole new level. Ezra's words proved prophetic as Josiah 'helped' him out of the car, not being remotely subtle as he pressed the back of his hand to Ezra's forehead, checking for fever. "Josiah, Ah am not feeling unwell, Ah assure you."
The older man leveled a stern look on him, "The last time you told me that, you wound up in the hospital getting your appendix removed." Ezra tried not to look too surprised, but this was one big difference in the two universes, the first he'd found besides the obvious. He'd had his appendix out at the age of eleven. Uncle James had insisted he was fine, that maybe he had a cold, and sent him on his way and if the school bus driver hadn't taken one look at him when he'd bent double trying to climb up the stairs to board, calling for an ambulance herself- "Ezra?"
"Ah apologize Josiah, Ah," Ezra hesitated, knowing he had to tell the older man something, but that telling him the truth-that he was thinking of the time he'd had his appendix out, a good sixteen years ago-would alarm him, to say the least. "Ah haven't been sleeping very well." It was the truth, and not one he would ordinarily have shared, and Ezra found himself regretting it as Josiah's brow furrowed with worry. Obviously his Ezra was as closemouthed about such things as he usually was, as after what he'd realized was nearly a three hour nap on Mr. Larabee's couch he was certain the profiler at least had picked up on his sleep deprived state. The worry wasn't at its existence, but at the fact that it had been shared with him, and Ezra wanted to smack himself.
If he let slip what was going on, Ezra had no doubt his well intentioned friends would insist he seek psychiatric care, and as he knew what he was experiencing was real it would either end with him lying to the doctor or on some cocktail of pharmaceuticals that would do no good at all. "Ezra, I know something is wrong. I can't make you tell me, but I think it would be better if you did."
"Ah didn't do anything!" Ezra hid a wince at his own vehemence, the stress playing havoc with his ability to control the emotions he presented, as Josiah's face somehow softened and became more serious at the same time.
"And I never said you did. I know you can have a problem or a worry without having gotten yourself in trouble, Ezra." He continued to appraise him for a moment longer, before he turned him bodily, putting his arm around his shoulders and walking him towards the open front door, "Let's go inside, son. Supper's ready."
Ezra purposefully let out a put upon sigh, "We're having chili, aren't we?"
"No, smart-ass, we aren't. I got take out, from that Indian place we both like."
"Really? Truly sah, you should be knighted for valor." Ezra was reasonably sure he was trying too hard, and that if anyone would pick up on it it would be Josiah. He wasn't sure what else he could do though, besides fall to pieces.
Ezra had worried he wouldn't be able to eat, nervous that in spending an entire evening in Mr. Sanchez's company he'd slip up, say or do something, be unable to remember some memory they should have shared, or worse that he'd just tell him, and then the man would think he was insane,(or even worse, believe him, but be furious that he wasn't the right Ezra, maybe think he'd somehow caused this, and who knew what could happen then?) but as they stepped into the small house and the scent of curry and garlic naan bread filled his nostrils, reminding him of that summer he'd lived with Auntie Joyce in a little apartment above a curry shop in Brooklyn, his stomach let out an audible growl. Josiah pushed him in the direction of the bathroom, "Get washed up and come into the living room."
They sat on the couch and passed take out containers back and forth, watching first You Only Live Twice, Ezra's choice, then Hellboy, Josiah's, talking through parts of it, making fun of the cheesy special effects in James Bond, Ezra teasing Josiah about how he looked so much like Ron Perlman and everyone knew that was why he liked his movies, and silent through others, chewing in synchronization as the sounds of battle filled the room. By the end, Ezra was stuffed to the gills and incredibly jealous of this world's Ezra.
He knew the Team liked him, loved him even, knew that they were the best friends he'd ever had, the closest thing to a real family, but he didn't have this, not with any of them. He went to the bar with them, on the camping trips, and team weekends, and they never left him out of BBQs or game nights. Ezra fit in perfectly as one of seven. Occasionally they even did do something with a smaller group of them, three or four of the team together, though it was most common that was because someone couldn't come at the last minute.
But he didn't go to the shooting range, or fishing with just one of them, like Vin and Chris did together, didn't go to the movies or the arcade like Buck and JD, didn't...well, Ezra wasn't entirely sure what Nathan and Josiah did, though his inclination was that it likely involved chess, philosophical discussion, and far more beer than either of them would ever admit. It was just the way things worked out, he knew that, there were seven of them and when everyone paired up, well, there was one left over. It wasn't as though Ezra couldn't have asked one of them to do something with him either, he could have, and he hadn't.
He just didn't understand what was so different about the other Ezra, better about him, that-"Ezra?" Looking over to Josiah, he mustered up a smile for the concerned looking man.
"Oh, mah apologies, Mr. Sanchez, Ah was lost in thought."
"I'd say so, I've been calling you for almost a minute. That's the second time in only a few hours you've drifted away like that Ezra." Josiah's gaze was as appraising as it was concerned, and Ezra felt both guilty for worrying him and a bit annoyed at the scrutiny. It was hard enough to keep holding himself together without people looking for him to be falling apart.t
"Ah believe mah lack of sleep is perhaps catching up with me. Would you think me terribly rude if Ah retired now?"
Josiah shook his head no, even as his eyes definitely grew more worried, the wall clock that came into view behind him as he shifted letting Ezra know why-it was only eleven. "Of course not, if you're tired go to bed. You know where the guest room is, your stuff's still in there."
He nodded, stiffer than he probably should have been, and with a quiet goodnight to his host, Ezra pushed himself to his feet, forcing himself to walk casually out of the room and down the hall. Ezra found that he hadn't been lying, his lack of sleep was catching up with him for all he hadn't realized it, a yawn nearly cracking his jaw as he pulled off his suit, jacket carefully hung over the back of a chair off to the side, pants folded neatly and laid on the seat, the rest draped over the top, and, not bothering with a shirt, climbed into the first pair of sweats he pulled out of the dresser drawer, hoping they were actually his and not Vin's or JD's. He felt a surge of jealousy at the idea that Vin or JD might also have movie nights with Mr. Sanchez, and then felt thoroughly disgusted with himself for it as he flopped down in the bed, pulling the covers up high enough he could bury himself in them. He wasn't a child, and it wasn't as though he had any more claim on Josiah than any of the rest of the team, less than Nathan. They weren't his team anyway. He kept forgetting, never for very long, just a minute or two, but it hurt every time he remembered. He pounded his pillow into shape with perhaps a bit more vigor than was entirely necessary before he laid his head down, but even with the turning thoughts in his head Ezra fell asleep surprisingly quickly, no more than five minutes after his head hit the pillow.
Three hours later he sat bolt upright in bed, forcing down a scream as cold sweat ran down his face and back, then immediately started to shiver, pushing himself back against the head of the bed, pulling the covers with him as he went and cocooning himself in them.
That wouldn't happen. That would never happen. Even if he'd told Josiah the truth he never would have reacted like that, and neither would the others. They might not believe him, might think him a lunatic, but of all the things he knew, he knew that that would never happen.
It had seemed so real. Snarling, angry, faces, calling him an impostor, a fake, demanding to know what he'd done with their Ezra, only to finally chase him away, kicking and shoving, guns brandished, guns firing, when he couldn't tell them where he was.
It was a ludicrous dream, and Ezra knew it, but he was in a ludicrous situation. He didn't think it would actually happen, not at all, but it highlighted to him again that he really was a stranger in a strange land.
He'd been lying to all of them. Just doing his best to carry on as though nothing were amiss. Ezra was not sure what else he could have done under the circumstances, but it didn't keep his stomach from twisting with the guilt of it. Ezra had spent most of his life lying about who and what he was, and therefore, while he often kept things simply to himself, or perhaps spun things one way or another, he didn't actually lie to his team.
Just his being here in Josiah's house, in sweats that were supposedly his, but that he had never worn before, was a prevarication. Perhaps not an outright lie, but a fabrication at the very least.
He shouldn't be here. He had no right to be here, no right to take this other version of him's place.
Ezra found himself stumbling to his feet, only dropping the comforter after he nearly tripped on the end of it, and started out of the room and down the hallway, picking up his keys off the catch all table in Josiah's entryway. Ezra paused for a second before the doorway, rather certain Josiah would not be pleased when he awoke in the morning and discovered him gone without a word, and almost turned around and went back to bed. He couldn't though, the idea of trying to go back to sleep sending a shiver through him that had him reaching for the deadbolt. Making sure the bottom knob was locked, Ezra slid through the doorway into the night air and slowly pulled the door shut behind him, concentrating on keeping his footfalls light and even as he walked down the short path to the driveway and the waiting Jag. He was in the middle of unlocking it, key turning, when he heard something that made him wish he could disappear.
"You are not driving anywhere at almost two in the morning, barefoot and with no shirt." Josiah sounded outraged, and Ezra just stood frozen where he was, key still in the lock, not moving. A hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back from the car slightly, and then Josiah was unclasping his hand from around his keys, tugging them from his door, and turning Ezra towards him forcefully. "We are going to go back inside, sit down on the couch, and this time you are going to tell me what is going on. You've lost the chance to tell me in your own time." Ezra opened his mouth to protest and Josiah shook his head, "You've already earned a spanking for this little stunt, don't argue with me right now, Ezra Patrick Standish." To his own surprise, and Josiah's clear astonishment, Ezra started to cry, the surprised look on Josiah's face making him even more embarrassed, and he pulled away, trying to hide his face, but Josiah wouldn't let him, towing him back towards him and into his chest, squeezing him, "Alright, alright now, it's okay. You scared me, but I'm not really mad, son, it's okay."
Instead of calming down Ezra felt himself growing more and more hysterical, barely able to speak between sobs, "Ah'm sorry...Ah just...Ah don't...Ah don't want you to hate me!" The last words were a wail, and even as part of Ezra burned with the humiliation of it, most of him was just trying to burrow into Josiah's chest, not entirely aware of what he was saying.
"That'll never happen, son. Whatever's going on, that will never happen. I love you. I love you, and so does the whole team. Nothing changes that."
"No, you can't...Ah'm wrong...Ah'm the wrong...Ezra." He was shaking his head into Josiah's shoulder, still sobbing, probably getting snot all over his t-shirt, but for once Ezra couldn't bring himself to care. His words brought a small growl from Josiah, and then a smack on his backside that didn't actually hurt, but still made him wail into the profiler's shoulder, feelings stung.
"Don't you ever tell me I can't love you. I love you very, very much, and nothing is going to change that, and I mean it, you hear?"
"Ah'm sorry...Ah'm sorry." Ezra was trying to stop crying now, at least to stop crying so hard, but he just couldn't seem to.
"Alright, c'mon," Josiah scooped him up like a child by his waist, one hand moving under his leg as he hoisted him onto his hip, the other wrapping around under Ezra's hips, holding him to his side, Ezra's legs automatically moving to lock around his waist, surprised and a bit intimidated that Josiah was strong enough to do that with so little effort, "Let's go inside." Exhausted, worried Josiah would make him tell and then would despise him, whatever he'd said-for God's sake the man didn't even know who he was, not really-, not wanting a spanking, and certain he was going to get one, Ezra hid his head in Josiah's neck the entire way into the house, tears slowly drying, only moving when the big man grunted as he was shifting them down to the couch, worried he'd injured himself, having to tote him around like an oversized infant. "I'm fine, Ezra." Ezra wasn't sure if he should really stay on the other man's lap where Josiah placed him, but Josiah wrapped his arms around him and pulled him so he was leaning his head down on his shoulder again. It was honestly a bit awkward, he really was a bit too big to fit comfortably, but there was something so comforting about it it didn't even matter. "It's time to tell me what's going on, son." Ezra shook his head, and Josiah shifted, craning his neck so he could look down at him, "Well then, get comfortable because neither of us are going anywhere for awhile." True to his word, Josiah just sat there holding him, not saying anything when Ezra shifted to get comfortable, but not letting him slide off his lap when he tried, either.
Apparently his hug was also a time out and Ezra huffed a bit at that thought, really, next thing he knew he'd be having to stand in the corner or write lines.
He wasn't sure what he could tell him, the truth was out, but if he made something up that would be another lie to keep track of, and Ezra did not need that stress in addition to everything else. Maybe, though, there was a way Ezra could tell him without telling him..."Josiah?"
"Yes, Ezra?"
"Ah've been having a recurring dream...a nightmare, really." Ezra's mind flashed to the dream he'd had that night, unable to stop a tiny shiver from running through him, Josiah's arms tightening around him in response.
"For how long, son?"
"About a week. They're rather...bizarre, for lack of a better word. Ah wake up, and take care of my morning abulations, and as Ah go to the office Ah start to see that everything is slightly altered. People and places are unchanged, but there is something off about it all, and the closer Ah get to work the stranger it gets. You are all you, but you aren't." Ezra's voice caught on his last word, but he swallowed, hard, and kept going, "Slowly, Ah start to understand that Ah'm in some sort of alternate reality, that Ah've been switched for another version of myself. Ah don't know what to do, so Ah just carry on like normal, only eventually they start to figure it out and Ah'm forced to confess..." He cut himself off as his breath caught in his chest, pressing his lips together tightly, not willing to let tears escape him again.
"What happens then?" One of Josiah's hands had moved to just below his neck, kneading gently at muscles that had tightened from stress and crying, and he sagged into him, wishing they could just drop it, but already knowing there was no way the older man would allow that.
"They're furious, they don't believe Ah don't know what's going on, they think Ah did something to the othah Ezra...you chase me away, kick me and hit me, and everyone pulls out their guns, and..." He can barely get the words out around the lump in his throat, one of his hands clutching tightly at the fabric of Josiah's shirt, the profiler rocking him back and forth now, his own voice thick as he murmured comforting words that Ezra didn't actually hear again and again, almost in a chant, until finally exhaustion won out over grief and fear and he fell into a spent slump.
"Never, ever, ever, nothing like that will ever happen to you, I promise Ezra. Never, ever, ever. I won't let anyone hurt you like that. I promise, son, I promise."
*.*.*.*.*.*.*
Ezra glared at the extraordinarily tiresome expanse of wall in front of his nose, not believing that he, Ezra P. Standish, was being forced to stand in the corner like a small child. It was humiliating, and as he'd told Mr. Sanchez, utterly unlikely to be effective on him, a grown adult.
The man's calm, implacable, "Well, I suppose you'll just have to stay there until it is.", probably meant that hadn't been the wisest choice of speech, but it had been gratifying to say it either way.
Ezra had woken up that morning, and realized, to his horror, that he was in Josiah's bed. He supposed that after he had fallen asleep in the man's arms it might not have seemed like something to think twice about, but it had still been a supreme relief to look to the side and see Josiah ensconced in an arm chair, another pulled up that the tall man had stretched his feet out onto, an open book spread out on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. He had clearly already been up and dressed, a cold cup of coffee and a half eaten piece of toast smeared with peanut butter on the nightstand.
The man had been very solicitous for the first half of the morning, letting him sleep until he'd woken on his own(which Ezra suddenly realized, meant he must have called in sick for both of them, which meant he'd likely told Chris what had happened), and telling him to take his time getting ready once he was up, making him breakfast. It was only after he'd finished and pushed back his plate that he'd looked up to see the man's eyes on him, gaze heavy. Mr. Sanchez hadn't seemed angry exactly, instead he was somber. They had to talk, first about his dream, and then about the choices he'd made in dealing with it. Ezra had had no desire to converse about either item on the list, but had reluctantly followed the man over to the couch, sitting down so his back was to the arm.
It had been long and awkward, full of Josiah both reassuring him that it was alright to have insecurities about the team("I want you to come to me, or one of the others, or just somebody, when you feel like that, Ezra. You don't have to deal with that on your own."), and that he had no reason to have those insecurities, the profiler clearly believing that to be the root cause of his dream. With no way to know at least the beginning of the dream was reality, it would be the most logical conclusion he could come to, though Ezra felt contrition at allowing him to believe it. Whatever insecurities he may or may not have, they had never been so extreme as to manifest themselves into nightmares, or really nightmare, and likely never would have if this impossibly implausible situation had not occurred, and he could only assume the same was true for his counterpart.
Then Josiah had jokingly popped, or tapped, really, him on the shoulder, and said, "And if you switched places with another version of you, obviously I'd be upset you were gone and want you back, but that doesn't mean I'd be mean to the other you, and I sure as hell wouldn't let anybody shoot at him. I'd be hoping that wherever you were the me that was there would be taking as good care of you as I would of his Ezra, and there's no reason to think the same wouldn't be true for any other version of me, right?" Ezra had frozen, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out anything he shouldn't, because that only applied if Josiah actually believed him, and it was far more likely that he would think Ezra needed psychiatric help, finally forcing himself to nod and smile a little. Josiah hadn't been deluded of course, instead it seemed as though he expected Ezra to be feeling vulnerable and a little shaky, and didn't think that an unusual reaction to what he'd said.
The second item on Josiah's list was one Ezra would have been exultant to avoid altogether, particularly as he recalled the man's declaration to him on the driveway the night before-"You've already earned a spanking for this little stunt". Really, hadn't he endured enough?
Mr. Sanchez did not seem to agree.
"Ezra, driving barefoot is dangerous anyway, driving when you are even as close to as upset as you were last night is just plain unacceptable. I know you know that." With Josiah looking at him, eyes and voice stern, there was really nothing he could do but nod, for all it hadn't been a question. "You also were going to leave in the middle of the night, and without a word or a note. I know that there were extenuating circumstances, but that doesn't make any of that okay. Tell me, son, what did you think I was going to do when I found out you'd done that?"
Ezra had known exactly what answer Josiah wanted, but he had absolutely no inclination towards telling him what he wanted to hear.
He perhaps should not have told Josiah that he thought a slap on the wrist would more than suffice. He hadn't been amused. Not that Ezra had anticipated amusement, but the magnitude of his lack of amusement had surprised him. Really, that should have been his cue to give in. Ezra had not, hence the corner. "Are you ready to come out and answer my question properly?" That begged for discussion of what a proper answer was, but Ezra clamped his limps shut against it, not quite that foolhardy. "Ezra?"
"Yes, Josiah."
"Alright, come here then." Begrudgingly Ezra made his way back over to the couch, half expecting to be hauled over the man's lap immediately, tension easing as Josiah let him perch himself on the edge of his cushion. "What did you think I would do Ezra, if either I caught you, or if you'd made it back to your apartment and I discovered you gone in the morning?"
Swallowing his pride, Ezra managed to get out a half strangled, "Ah thought you would spank me."
"Well, you're a hundred percent correct. What other choices could you have made that wouldn't have gotten you a spanking?" Having presumed that the previous question was just for show, and that once he'd answered it the discussion would be over, it took Ezra a moment to formulate a response.
"Instead of leaving the house Ah could have distracted mahself some othah way, read or watched TV?" He hadn't intended it to come out a question, and wasn't sure why it did, and Ezra certainly wasn't sure why Josiah looked sorrowful for just a second before he replied.
"Or you could have woken me up." Except that Ezra would have done nothing of the sort, even if it had occurred to him. It was ludicrous of course, to be embarrassed at the idea of waking Josiah in the middle of the night after he'd spent a large portion of it bawling in the man's arms, but that didn't prevent the emotion from being felt. "Or told me or one of the rest of the team before things got this bad." Ezra forced himself to nod, not sure what else he could do. Josiah pushed himself over to the middle of the couch, Ezra swallowing as he realized that the discussion was over now. "C'mere, son."
He reached out and grabbed Ezra by the shoulder, Ezra letting himself be pulled along even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, a flood of words that Josiah paid no attention to, and Ezra hadn't actually planned to say, leaving him as Josiah draped him over his lap and pulled him forward, adjusting him so that Ezra felt a bit like there was a target on his backside. "Mr. Sanchez, really, there is no need for this, you said yourself there were extenuating circumstances. Besides, the remorse Ah feel for worrying you last night is more than punishment enough! Or, perhaps arrangements could be made for some other sort of penalty? Really sah, let's be reasonable." Josiah patted him once, as though in warning, and Ezra buried his head in his arms, hiding a hiss, as a flurry of smacks was unleashed on his arse, the older man's gigantic hand seeming to be everywhere at once, or possibly everywhere at twice. Somehow, even through his slacks, the swats from Josiah seemed to sting just as much as the ones from Chris on the bare had, and Ezra was truly relieved that he hadn't pulled them down. As the sting rose he started to squirm from side to side, needing to get away, but Josiah just moved the hand that had been resting on his back to wrap around his waist, pulling Ezra in close so he couldn't move much at all.
As his hand moved lower, dancing over the back of Ezra's thighs, the first sniffles left him, and Josiah lifted him a bit, and for a second Ezra thought that meant it was over, but then he felt Josiah's hands undoing the button on his pants and tugging down his zipper and he flung his hand back, grabbing onto the waistband, doing his best to keep them where they were. "Ezra, let go." He shook his head from where it was buried in the couch, "Right now." He kept his hand where it was, and Josiah moved his arm from around his waist, grabbed his wrist, and smacked the back of his hand just enough to sting with the hand he'd been spanking him with, moving it back where it had been, "That's enough." Ezra's pants and boxer-briefs were at his knees in another second, and he kicked his foot into the couch cushion, frustratedly, and then did it again. It was quite painful enough, pulling his pants down was superfluous and excessive!
Mr. Sanchez ignored his kicking, squirming and other attempts to remove his person from the vicinity of what Ezra was becoming increasingly convinced was an abnormally hard hand. As swats fell back and forth all across the middle of his rear, the sting so much worse than it had been through even his thin dress pants, stoking a fire that felt like it would never go out, the first pleas burst from Ezra, "Mr. Sanchez, please! Ah won't do it again!"
"I know you won't Ezra, not too much longer now." That was cold comfort, and as Josiah's hand traveled back down to the curve where his legs met his thighs, the sniffles and gasps that had been leaving him transformed into tears and wails, his body shuddering with the force of it. He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying before he felt Josiah pulling his slacks and underwear back up, crying out a little as they were pulled over his reddened flesh, and then Josiah was flipping him over in his arms, soothing and rocking him, Ezra vaguely aware of what felt like a kiss being pressed to the top of his head, and that he probably should have been discomfited by it. Another minute of soft murmurs, a firm hand running up and down his back, and he felt a yawn escaping him, his eyes wanting to close, and that really was the most absurd thing, he supposed it was an exhausting ordeal, but you would think he'd be on his guard after such an experience and instead...Ezra's eyes fluttered close as his mind could no longer maintain his train of thought, body relaxing the rest of the way into sleep.