The ATF Olympics chapter 4

Disclaimer: If I owned the Olympics I would be a bit too busy to write at the moment. If I owned the seven… I would be MUCH too busy to write at the moment LOL.

OOO

OO

Ezra Standish welcome to hell. At least that was how it seemed to him at the present time. Why on earth anyone would agree to cram themselves into a small boat prone to capsizing at the puff of a stiff breeze with an insanely competitive and reckless man who also happened to be your boss was a mystery to him…Oh, wait a minute, that's right, he wasn't given an option so no agreement necessary!

And he was wet. Very wet indeed. 'Forgive me for being under the misapprehension that the whole point of a boat was to keep one's person separate from the briny deep' he thought to himself as yet another wave of spray hit him full in the face. A by now familiar feeling of imminent disaster rolled over him just a fraction of a second before he, Chris and the boat rolled under. Instinct and several such dunkings had him right way up rapidly, his physical reaction of coughing and spluttering being nothing as to the reaction of his devious mind as he heard the whooping and cheering from his so-called friends on the shore. They would pay, one day, when he was a little drier… as long as pneumonia didn't set in.

"Hey Hoss, you think maybe Chris has given up trying to shoot ya and has decided to drown you instead?"

And Buck would be at the top of his list.

"You okay Ez? Ready to give it another go?" Chris turned as much as the constricted boat allowed and gave him a rare and happy smile.

Make that second to top of the list. Larabee had just earned top billing.

Chris laughed as he led the way to the shore, one very wet and bedraggled undercover agent muttering dire retribution under his breath. Hell, they didn't stand a chance of winning gold but that wasn't Larabee's aim. If he wanted to win that bad he'd have chosen Vin but whether he knew it or not Ezra needed this. Chris wasn't a profiler like Josiah and he wasn't an instinctive judge of people like Vin. He most certainly didn't have the almost supernatural people reading skills of Ezra, no doubt part natural talent and part survival techniques developed to thwart Maude's child rearing. But Chris could see that Ezra would remain on the outside of their little family unless he was given reason to feel wanted. And as far as Chris was concerned picking Ezra to be his partner in this sport was a good way to show his friendship.

As far as Ezra was concerned, being quite aware of the reasoning behind Chris's behaviour, there had to be easier ways of saying you were a part of the family than water torture. He ignored the warm feeling that infused his person at the thought of how his lifelong dream of belonging might possibly be coming true…

His mistake…. "Mr Larabee I fear this vessel has developed a less than watertight aspect."

"Huh?"

"We are sinking Mr Larabee."

OOO

OO

"Stupid fool southern agents… get pneumonia in the middle of summer why don't you… don't have the sense God gave a gopher… If you're not trying to smash your brains out on a lump of thirty foot high concrete you're trying to ride a sardine can at the bottom of a lake… I blame YOU"

Chris looked thoroughly unperturbed as the normally gentle medic looked away from his examination of Ezra to cast a Larabee strength glare at said look's creator. He shrugged. Nathan sighed and stuck a thermometer into the undercover agent's mouth with a firmness that said there was somewhere else he would rather stick it!

"Mssr Jckssn, hmm fnn"

"I know you're fine, and I'm aiming to make sure you stay that way. "

Ezra sighed and gave up his protests. There was hardly any point with a mouth full of thermometer. As Nathan removed the offending implement and glared at it for proclaiming his patient perfectly healthy Ezra smiled at the chuckling audience.

It was chilling, Vin observed, truly chilling that a smile could hold as much threat as a glare. Suddenly deciding that he had practice to get to the sharpshooter made his excuses and left. He was closely followed by the others who shared Vin's sense of self preservation. Once he was alone Ezra allowed himself a true smile of pleasure. That had been worth the dip and the fussing. He should channel his inner Larabee more often.

OOO

OO

Day one of the games came all too soon for the participants. Evie and her charity stalwarts had outdone themselves and quite a crowd had come to the athletics stadium close to the Federal Building to witness their efforts.

JD was nervous. He was more nervous than he had been on his first official date with Casey and considering that he had to run the gauntlet of Nettie Wells interrogation that was saying something.

He looked over to where all his team mates had gathered in support… Ezra was making notes in a small book. He hoped that he'd given him good odds. He ducked his head suddenly in embarrassment as Buck and Josiah held up a banner proclaiming 'JOHN DUNNE GOT GOLD' He might have appreciated the play on words if he had been able to think straight but he could barely remember that he WAS John Dunne.

"Will the participants in the 200m hurdles please approach the starting blocks."

"John Dunne got beat, that's what it should read punk."

JD ignored Rubley from team 2 as he tried to get into the zone that their coach had schooled them in these past weeks. Ezra and Vin had warned him that team 2 were likely to use dirty tactics and no-one knew people better than those two. Besides Rubley was one of the slowest in the race. Psyching him out was his only chance… a chance that JD wasn't going to give him.

"You can do it JD. I'm so proud of you!"

JD grinned at Rubley as Casey's endorsement carried across the track. How could he fail with Casey behind him. Rubley scowled. He'd told Ferguson that the kid wasn't as green as he looked. Only way to intimidate the kid would have been with his fists but Ferguson had vetoed it. Maybe he'd get the chance to trip him up somewhere along the way.

Rubley never got the chance. As soon as the starting pistol sounded JD, in the lane next to him, was off like a greyhound. JD didn't pay any attention to those around him. His whole focus was on his stride pattern and controlling his breathing. It was a rush. Even the pain as the adrenaline set fire to his muscles and the lactic acid flowed through his system were somehow good… proving that he was alive, that he had never felt MORE alive.

And then it was over. As he crossed the line he realised that there were no bodies ahead of him. He looked around as the other runners followed in his wake. He looked up at the scoreboard.

He had won! Suddenly he was surrounded by his friends whooping and patting him on the back, even Nathan was holding off on the mother hen act in favour of congratulating his team mate and Ezra, while not being overly effusive, was beaming with obvious pride… of course he could have been thinking of how much money he had just won. Before he could get his breath back to ask how he had done during the race his mouth became otherwise occupied. He crossed his eyes in an attempt to verify that it was Casey on the other end of that kiss before responding. It was.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow ow!" The kiss was broken off suddenly as the hero of the moment hit the deck clutching his calf. It was one thing to run through the pain but entirely something else when the whole thing was over.

"Lactic acid" Nathan shook his head as he began to administer some physio. "Everything in moderation" he observed as everyone laughed at the 'hero' whimpering like a baby and Casey pouting as though her boyfriend had gotten cramp on purpose. Chris ignored them and made a note in his own little black book… Standish wasn't the only one keeping a tally but Chris's gold wasn't money, it was far more important… it was a win, their first of many. They weren't called the Magnificent 7 for nothing'

OOO

OO

To give the runners, like JD, who were competing in both running events a break between competitions the stadium was also hosting the field events and the archery that day. It also gave the supporters a bit more bang for their buck. Thanks to Buck's lack of sense of direction they had no participants in the field events, though Buck was pleased to see that the guy who had blacked his eye won the javelin. He'd have hated to have been clobbered by a no hoper. So as one the team, after basking in the reflection of JD's glory… a picture of which was to appear in the Clarion, set off to support Vin and Ezra in the archery.

Orrin Travis was beginning to relax. The first day of competition was proving very popular. He was very proud of all his teams and was using every opportunity to up their profile with the many influential figures who were present including a senator and two ex mayors. He gathered team 7 in to, well to show them off really. The team indulged him, they were in a good mood but Vin and Ezra soon became bored and with their first events imminent they broke away. Vin went to perform a little last minute visualization and Ezra went to find a drink… soft of course. Not that he had a choice.

Ferguson stealthily made his way over to the trestle table holding the bows for the competition. They had all been picked at random earlier and now had labels with the contestants names on. His own sat there and he knew he was good but he also knew that he wasn't the best. His eye passed over the name Standish, for once he was no threat. His gaze lingered instead on the name Tanner. Be it gun or arrow the Texan was head and shoulders above the rest. In a fair competition there was no contest. Well, he'd just have to make it an UN-fair competition then wouldn't he? A slight adjustment of the precision engineered sight and at least the first few arrows would miss the bullseye… just enough of an advantage without raising suspicions. A quick look around confirmed that he was still unobserved. He moved in.

"Ah wouldn't do that if I were you Mister Ferguson."

An outstretched arm was suddenly drawn back and Ferguson jumped round to face Team 7's undercover sneak… how did he do that!

"Do what? I wasn't doing anything. What are YOU doing going around sneaking up on people?"

Ezra ignored the attempt at redirection.

"You know mr Ferguson, I have three options here. Number one… uh uh" he raised a hand to forestall the inevitable comment. "Number one, I could report you and have you disqualified for attempting to interfere with the competition. This would, however, have a less than desirable effect among the press here today and would upset Evie. Two, Ah have enough concealed armaments upon my person to equip a small country… I could use them upon your person, however that might cause a delay in proceedings, cleaning away your remains etc you understand? Three" he carried on as his adversary paled "I can whisper into Mr Larabee's ear that you were attempting to undermine the sure and certain winning performance of one of his team… one who also happens to be amongst his best friends."

"I…I…don't…"

"Of course you have options too. Well you have one option… besides professional suicide or long term hospitalization. You can move away now and play this game in the spirit it is intended to be played in."

Ezra noted that that particular shade of red didn't really suit the man but as he could have predicted the leader of team 2 slunk away with his tail between his legs. An hour or so later the sight of Ferguson shaking Vin's hand in congratulation as he was thrashed in the final was particularly sweet for the southerner who had gone out in the second round.

Chris slapped Vin on the back enthusiastically before marking down a second win. He glared at Ferguson and was surprised to see the normally confrontational man gather his supporters together and dash off who knew where. 'Wonder what that's about' he thought before his responsibilities took over once more and he set off to rescue his reticent sharpshooter from the attentions of the secretarial pool.

TBC

A/N One more chapter to go which will cover the rest of the events and reveal the overall winner of the ATF Olympics… yeah like that will be a cliffhanger.