This is the longest chapter in the story, but it's because I couldn't find a good place to split up Day 5. Al lot happens in this chapter, not the least of which is Martin meeting the Denver Seven. This was probably the funnest section to write! So I hope you enjoy!
Day 5
LaGuardia International Airport
7:15 a.m. EST
"What do you want me to tell everyone?" Danny asked.
"Just tell them I'm taking a few personal days," Martin shrugged. "That's what I told Jack."
Danny nodded silently, glancing up as Chris and Vin walked up, a bleary-eyed Ezra bringing up the rear.
"All set?" Vin asked, handing Martin a cup of coffee. "I took a wild guess."
Martin took a sip, and his eyebrows shot up. "Not bad."
Danny groaned, looking at Vin. "Great, you drink battery acid, too?"
Chris chuckled. "We have to keep two pots at the office if we want drinkable coffee."
"Hey, ain't my fault all y'all can handle's that dishwater," Vin scoffed indignantly.
The initial boarding call was issued, and Danny bid his farewell. Chris and Ezra went ahead to the gate while Vin lagged behind with Martin.
"Ready to go?" Vin asked.
"Little late to be asking that, isn't it?" Martin replied, grinning, picking up his carry-on.
Vin ceded this point, following his brother through the gate.
Denver, Colorado
Larabee Ranch
11:00 a.m. MST
Chris reached to unlock the door while Martin helped Vin unload Chris's truck, but he found the door already unlocked. He quietly eased the door open, pulling his gun out. Vin noticed his alarm and was stealthily approaching the door as well. Martin stayed back, being in unfamiliar territory.
They slipped through the entryway, each moving silently into the house. Chris went down the hallway, while Vin moved towards the den. Martin made his way into the house behind them, grabbing an umbrella if for no other reason than to have some semblance of a weapon, since his gun was still in his suitcase.
He heard some shuffling as he neared the kitchen. Peering around the corner, he saw someone leaning into the fridge. Martin pressed the tip of the umbrella into the man's back, hoping the shape closely enough resembled the barrel of a gun.
"Hands on your head," he said in a low voice.
The man straightened, standing to several inches above Martin. He heaved his shoulders in a heavy sigh.
"I hope you have something other than an umbrella to take me with," he said.
Crap. Vin! Martin mentally called out to his brother.
Where are ya, Martin? Came Vin's reply.
Kitchen.
What's he look like?
Big guy with a Wyatt Earp mustache.
The big man turned around, gaping for a moment when he first saw Martin's face. "Holy crap, there are two!"
"Buck?" Vin yelled from outside the kitchen. He came in with his gun pointed at the floor and Chris not far behind him.
"Wilmington, why do you always have to cause trouble?" Chris sighed, holstering his gun.
"Me?" Buck said indignantly. "How about ya'll not tellin' us you're comin' home with Junior's double?" he asked, pointing at Martin.
"How about the thousand times I've told you to lock the front door?" Chris said pointedly, silencing his opponent.
"Forgive him," Vin said, putting away his own piece. "We're still tryin' to teach him some manners. Martin Fitzgerald, Buck Wilmington."
"Don't listen to a word they say 'bout me," Buck grinned, taking Martin's offered hand. "Lies, every single one of them."
"So you're not the best explosives expert this side of the Mississippi who's slept with every woman in a twenty-mile radius?" Martin asked, parroting what he had been told on the plane ride.
"Maybe not every word…," Buck trailed off, already liking Martin. Here was a man who would give as good as he got.
"When're they comin'?" Vin asked, knowing that the rest of the gang was sure to arrive at some point.
"Josiah an' Nate're getting back this afternoon, and JD's finishin' that report after takin' Casey to lunch. They'll be here by dinner time. What about Ez?"
"Probably back home asleep," Chris said, opening his refrigerator. "He'll be the last one draggin' in. Let me see what kind of a state my fridge is in," he sighed. He didn't mind his house being the unofficial base for Team 7, no matter what he said, even if it meant he spent as much or more on food than he did on gas for his Ram.
While Chris made a grocery list, Vin showed Martin to his bedroom. The ranch house originally had four bedrooms, but the constant presence of any or all of the seven had called for additions to be built. Each man had claimed a room for his own, complete with a chest-of-drawers stocked with clothes, even if he was only in it a couple nights a month.
Martin walked into the bedroom and realized that it was distinctly Vin Tanner's. It was fairly plain, nothing overly personal, but it was his, nonetheless. The walls were wood panels, as were most of the bedrooms, and the hardwood floor had an area rug by the bed. Several prints hung on the walls - images of the Old West with cowboys, Indians, and plenty of horses. The bed, nightstand and chest were both made of rough-hewn wood, with burned images their only adornment. On the nightstand lay a copy of Kurosawa's Seven Samurai.
"Never read the book, but the movie was good," Martin said, indicating the volume next to the bed.
"I'll let ya borrow it," Vin said, setting Martin's bag on the bed. "I'd let ya stay with me, but it ain't 'zactly in the best part a' town an' I don't got a lotta room, what with the kids in an' out all the time."
On the plane, Vin had told Martin about his work with the kids in Purgatorio, the neighborhood he lived in. Martin liked the idea of giving the kids a safe place to go to, and knew Danny would love it.
"It's fine with me, as long as Chris is okay with it," Martin said, pulling out his phone charger and plugging it into the outlet next to the nightstand.
"That ol' dog?" Buck asked, sauntering into the room. "You'll be lucky if you get more'n a dozen words outta him a day."
Martin could believe that. Chris had been silent most of the flight to Denver, but it wasn't an uncomfortable or unsocial silence. More like, there simply was nothing for him to say, and he was content to let the brothers carry the brunt of the conversation.
"I've gotten so used to Danny rattling off in my ear, the silence will either be welcomed or drive me to insanity," Martin smirked.
Buck chuckled. "Sorry 'bout before, kid. I wasn't expectin' to see two of ya."
"It wasn't the worst," Martin said. "Danny looked like a fish out of water when he saw me and Vin next to each other."
"Well, Chris's insisting on makin' sure the office is still intact after leavin' me in charge for a whoppin' two days," Buck told Vin. "After that, we're headin' to the store, so it'll be a couple hours. The animals have been taken care of, but Peso's been a little stir crazy. You might wanna take him out before he tears down the barn. I know Moe would like to get out," Buck added of his own horse.
Neither one really hungry, Vin decided to show Martin around the ranch. In the stable, Vin introduced each of the seven horses, even though there were name plates on the stalls. Chris's Pony; JD's Dancer; Ezra's Chaucer; Josiah's Revere; Nathan's Tennessee; Buck's "Moe" Mohawk; and Vin's Peso.
"How'd he get a name like 'Mohawk'?" Martin asked, brushing the shavings out of the grey's coat.
Vin grinned. "'parently when Buck first got him, his mane had been chewed almost all off by one of the other horses he'd been kept with. Barely had any hair, and what he did have stood straight up. No one'd buy him 'cause of it, but Buck laughed. Thought it gave him personality. 'Course we all call him 'Moe.'"
"Looks like it fits him," Martin laughed as Moe tried to crane his neck around to nip at Martin's sleeve.
The horses saddled, Vin led Peso out of the barn, Martin and Moe following. Vin adjusted the stirrups and turned back to Martin.
"So, how well ya ride?" he asked.
"You mount on the left side, right?" Martin asked.
Vin nodded, and Martin deftly swung into the saddle. Vin watched in amusement as Martin nudged Moe into a canter and rode to the other side of the enclosure and back.
"Something like that?"
Vin laughed and swung atop Peso. He led Martin out past the snow-dotted north pasture. Conversation was minimal, each man enjoying the tranquility of the moment. After riding in silence for a bit, Vin dismounted and motioned for Martin to do the same. Leaving to horses to graze, Vin led Martin to a precipice. From there the ranch spread out below them.
"Wow," Martin breathed. "It's beautiful up here."
Vin nodded. "I love comin' up here to think. It's like life stays down there and cain't bother ya."
The brothers sat in silence for a while, neither one wanting to break the serene silence surrounding them. Finally, it was Martin who spoke up.
"How much do you remember of her?"
Vin knew he was speaking of their mother, and took a moment before answering.
"Less than I'd like. I remember she baked a lot, always smelled of vanilla. All she'd have to do is smile, and ever'thin' would be alright. She smiled a lot, even after she found out she was sick. The pictures I got don't do her justice."
"I don't remember anything," Martin said softly, and Vin could hear the sadness in his voice. "Nothing. The only parents I remember are the Fitzgeralds."
"That ain't nothin' to be 'shamed of," Vin responded gently. "Seems to me, your ma did a right good job raisin' ya, even if she didn't birth ya."
Martin nodded, still feeling guilty for the actions of his parents, but knowing that despite his parents, he had found his brother.
4:30 p.m. MST
Chris went to Vin's room to tell Martin that the boys had started arriving. Martin stood before the bed, toweling off his wet hair from his shower, trying to decide on a shirt. Martin had apparently not heard him walk up, so Chris stood back, noting the differences that he now saw in the twins.
Vin was more compact, and had more muscle mass than Martin, who was more lithe. Whereas Vin's skin was marred with scars from everything from knives to AK47s, Martin's was smooth, excepting the GSW scars he had gained over a year before, Chris remembered. Martin also appeared to be more of a clothes horse, like Ezra, and unlike Vin, who cared very little about what he wore as long as he was comfortable.
Martin appeared to decide on a cobalt blue button-down shirt, pulling it off its hanger and placing the others back in the closet. Chris cleared his throat, announcing his arrival, finally.
"The boys are filterin' in. You ready for this?"
Martin took a deep breath and nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
"Well, come on out when you're ready," Chris said, turning to walk out.
Martin buttoned his shirt and ran a little gel through his mostly-dry hair. He headed down the hall and took one last look in the bathroom mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he headed into the main room where he could hear loud voices.
"JD, whatever ya do, please don't tell any jokes," Martin recognized Buck's voice.
"Oh come on, my jokes are gold!" he assumed the young JD Dunne replied.
"Mebbe, since they sink pretty well," drawled Vin's soft Texas accent.
"You guys just don't know a good joke when you hear one," JD complained as Martin entered the room.
JD's back was to Martin, and Buck had not yet noticed him, but Vin's eyes immediately met his, and a mischievous glint appeared.
Wanna have some fun? Vin thought to Martin.
I think I'm beginning to see why they avoid you like the plague on April Fool's Day, Martin thought, a smirk finding its way to his face. What do you have in mind?
Meet me in the kitchen, Vin thought.
Martin obediently backed out and made his way to the kitchen. He had an idea what Vin had in mind, so he waited for his brother to join him. He was not disappointed. Vin walked in with a Cheshire Cat smile on his face. He leaned into the fridge and grabbed a beer and a coke.
"Take off your shirt," Vin commanded.
"What?" Martin asked, astonished, as Vin pulled his t-shirt over his head.
"Take off your shirt an' put on mine," Vin repeated, holding out the garment.
Martin figured it out, and unbuttoned his shirt and traded it for Vin's Dallas Cowboys shirt. Slipping it over his head, Vin told him which drink went to which person. Martin nodded, and, adopting Vin's casual saunter, re-entered the den.
Martin handed Buck the beer, and Buck's eyes grew huge, but he stayed quiet, giving JD a quick glance. Martin then handed JD the coke and returned to Vin's previous seat.
"So how much longer's your brother gonna be?" JD asked, still apparently oblivious to the switch.
"Oh, you know what them fancy easterners're like," Martin replied, doing a fair job imitating Vin's Texan drawl, "always fussin' over what they look like. Appearences're everythin'."
"Sounds like Ezra," JD commented. "Won't wear anything less than Armani."
"I don't know 'bout that," Buck countered. "We've worn down his standards a bit since he's been with us."
"Yeah, so he buys the Armani in the States instead of Italy," JD said.
Martin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He could not believe the kid was this oblivious. They were quickly distracted, though, by a large SUV pulling up in front of the house. Two men got out; a tall, graying man stepped out from behind the wheel, while a slightly taller, black man got out of the passenger side. They grabbed several bags from the back seat and made their way up to the door.
"Hey, JD, go grab the door for Nate'n Josiah," Buck said, sending a quick wink to Martin.
JD got up and hurried to the door, and Martin took the chance while he was distracted and scurried back to the kitchen. He and Vin once again switched shirts quickly, and Vin made his way back to the others. Martin just finished buttoning his shirt when Josiah and Nathan arrived, setting the bags containing various cuts of meat on the counter.
"Can I help with anything?" Martin asked, not bothering to tuck his shirt back in.
Josiah finally turned to look at him, eyes growing when he saw Martin. Nathan's reaction was similar to Buck's.
"There are two of 'em!"
"Yeah, I've gotten a lot of that today," Martin shrugged. He offered his hand to Nathan. "Martin Fitzgerald. I'm Vin's brother."
Nathan took Martin's hand, then Josiah, who had regained his composure somewhat.
"Josiah Sanchez," he introduced himself. "This here is-"
"Nathan Jackson," Martin interrupted, taking Nathan's hand. "So no one knew that I was coming? I thought they would have warned you."
"Naw, I guess it slipped their minds," Nathan said. "Chris just said Vin had found a long lost brother in New York. No one said anythin' 'bout twins."
Martin shook his head, wondering at the devious crowd he had been thrown in with. Seemed even bad-ass Larabee had a mischievous streak.
"I assume there is a long story behind this that you probably only want to tell once, so why don't we rejoin the others?" Josiah suggested.
Martin agreed, and they returned to the den, where Vin's smirk indicated JD was still oblivious to the switch. JD's back was once again to him, so Martin decided to "finally" make his appearance.
"So, JD, think we look alike?" Martin asked.
JD turned to the new arrival, and almost fell to the floor. He had been expecting a familial similarity, but not twins! Why didn't anyone tell him these things?
"Holy crap!"
"Why do people keep saying that?" Martin asked Vin, feigning a confused look. He walked over to the couch and sat next to JD.
"Why do…?" JD asked incredulous. "Have you guys looked in a mirror?"
"C'mon, JD, we's jus' pickin' on ya," Vin said, laughing finally.
"And they got you good, kid," Buck chimed in, unable to remain silent. "You never even blinked when those two switched on ya."
JD looked back and forth, confused.
"So, whaddya think of a fancy easterner like me?" Martin asked, slipping into Vin's drawl.
"You've gotta be friggin' kiddin' me," JD muttered.
"'fraid not, JD," Vin laughed.
The youngest of the seven was saved from further embarrassment by Chris coming to tell Josiah that the grill was ready. At this point, the eight men moved to the back deck, and Martin was treated to tales of Team 7's exploits, tales that continued into dinner.
"So you really didn't notice?" Martin asked JD when the eight men had returned to the great room after dinner. He still couldn't believe JD was that oblivious. JD reddened, and Buck burst out into laughter.
"Gentlemen, should we not dispense with tormenting our young compatriot?" Ezra said, having finally arrived just before dinner. "I believe Mr. Dunne would appreciate our ceasing to point out his lapse in attention."
JD smiled his thanks to Ezra, who simply raised his brandy in response.
"Okay, you've left us in the dark long enough," said Nathan, whose curiosity had finally gotten the better of his patience.
"All I know is what Vin's told me," Martin shrugged. "When our mom died, we were put in a state home. That's where we got split up, courtesy of Victor Fitzgerald."
"The Deputy Director of the FBI?" Buck asked.
Martin nodded, "Imagine my joy at finding out I'm not actually related to him. Anyway, Vin was left and I was taken to DC and raised as a Fitzgerald. I don't know how long it took me to forget. Maybe I didn't. Maybe memories of those first few years are still in there somewhere," he said, tapping a finger on his temple.
That sobered the group, but only temporarily, until JD asked Martin about what he did in the FBI. That picked up the mood somewhat, as Martin depicted his duties on the Missing Persons Unit. The evening progressed much like that, Martin telling of his life in Seattle and New York-Vin noticed he left out his life in the Fitzgerald household-as Vin told stories that the seven had all heard or lived of his life as a bounty hunter for the US Marshalls and, subsequently, his time in Denver.