Chapter 4: Parting Ways
Author's note: Our friends from the WW and the Mag 7 aren't done quite yet. I thought this up after I submitted Chapter 3. Just a little conclusion too, to wrap everything up. I'll leave it at that, because if you're reading this you've probably already read the other three chapters. Disclaimer still applies.
~~
Ezra Standish slowly peeled himself off the floor where he'd thrown himself during the shooting. He brushed off the black jacket and stared at the wall behind him. He gulped. Where he had been standing moments earlier, the wall was now riddled with bullet holes. "That was too close," he murmured.
He was still staring at the wall when Josh Lyman, the president's Deputy Chief of Staff strode over. "Hey!" Ezra turned to see a red faced Lyman glaring at him. "You could have gotten Donna killed."
"But it appears that such a unfortunate incident did not take place. Young Miss Moss is quite well and quite whole."
Lyman swung at the southerner. Ezra ducked the punch easily. "I believe I'll let that slide Mr. Lyman, as emotions are running high at the moment. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Agents Butterfield and Larabee." Ezra walked smoothly by. Josh looked like he might run after him, but Seaborn stopped him.
"Josh. Josh relax. Donna is fine, not a scratch on her."
"He could have gotten her killed Sam." Lyman's voice was little more than a pained whisper.
"True, but he didn't. He knew exactly how to bait the man and did it to perfection. Donna probably owes him her life. Now go over and see her." Josh complied, the fight gone out of him. Seaborn turned his attention to the four federal agents talking by the overturned buffet table.
Leo McGarry, Vin Tanner, Chris Larabee and Ron Butterfield were discussing the events of the evening. "So it's over then," Leo commented.
"Yes Leo it is. We've got the terrorists and we know the Secret Service agent involved in the whole mess." Butterfield shook his head somberly. "I just can't believe that my own man tricked me. He was a good agent. Shame."
"He took us all for fools Ron, nothing you did was wrong. But I'm confused, how did these guys get in here loaded with weapons?" Leo asked.
Vin fielded the answer. "Apparently they were hired on as caterers. The vans all were loaded down by food and trays. Dwyer was in charge of doing a search of the vans. He conveniently overlooked the fact that the vans all had false paneling, which is where they stored the guns. The materials for the bombs were brought in crates disguised as food. Sort of clever when you think about it."
"A little too clever for my taste," Larabee grunted.
Ezra trotted over to the group. "So sorry for interrupting, but where is Dwyer. I have been looking forward to thoroughly berating the man myself. I don't see him among the miscreants. Has he already been taken in?"
Chris frowned. "What do you mean he's not here? Of course he's here."
"I apologize Mr. Larabee, but Dwyer is most assuredly not among these contemptuous villains."
Samantha Hunter rushed over, sliding to a stop on the parquet floor. "Browning isn't here either."
Leo blinked. "What do you mean not here?"
"Not here," Samantha snapped. "As in absent, not present, not in the general vicinity. He's not here and neither is Dwyer."
"Browning," Butterfield mumbled. "Tall, dark hair, built like a Mac truck?"
"Yeah."
Vin glanced at Larabee, a sense of panic rising in his chest. "Cowboy." Chris nodded and Vin started to run for the exit. Chris whistled. Vin paused. Larabee tossed the keys to his borrowed car to the sharpshooter. Vin caught them and ran on.
Samantha and Ezra started after him. "Get going. Ron and I will be right behind you. I told JD to bring him to the residence." Sam and Ez disappeared into the night. No one wanted to think about what the absence of the two agents could mean.
--
JD felt out of place in the company of those two men. McGarry and Bartlett who knew so much more than he about life. He thought they might know more than he ever did. McGarry had fought in Vietnam, a war he hadn't even seen through a babe's eyes. And Bartlett, Bartlett was the Commander and Chief. He ran the country. JD felt like a kid around them, more so than he ever did with any of the Seven.
Bartlett watched him quietly and it was enough to make JD nervous. They waited together in the darkened room for some sign from Larabee or Leo. His unwavering stare was enough for JD to wish that Buck was there right then, to tease him and distract him. "I think," he started quietly, "I think everything will work out."
Bartlett cocked his head to one side. "What makes you say that? That was utter chaos."
"You would have stayed," JD remarked.
"Maybe. Chaos is a prerequisite in the White House. I think I'm used to it by now."
"Normally your chaos isn't further complicated by weaponry."
"True. And I must say, Abbey would wring my neck if I got shot again this year. She's a doctor and the whole thing seriously upsets her."
"Really?" JD smiled, feeling marginally more at ease. "I wonder why?" Bartlett was just a man. A powerful man, but a man just the same.
"How long have you worked with Larabee anyway?"
JD shrugged. "Not sure, two years maybe?"
"So then you know your colleagues fairly well?" JD nodded. "Then tell me, what's your take on the situation?"
"Sir, we tend to have a penchant for getting into sticky situations. We all know how to work in tight spots. We've all had to do our share of quick talking. The terrorists are not the problem. They're hoods, just like any other. The situation tonight...the thing I don't like about it is that we really don't know who is on our side, and who is just pretending. I do have complete faith in Chris and Vin and Ezra though. They'll get through, and they'll get everyone else through with them."
Their conversation might have continued, but there was a soft thunk from outside in the hall. JD immediately drew his weapon, every nerve in his body on edge. "Stay here Mr. President. Actually, get down if you can." The hallway was empty and dark. JD tried the switch, but the lights remained out. He felt the first drop of perspiration roll down his neck. His heart hammered inside his chest and he stepped out into the darkness.
--
Samantha, Vin and Ezra fairly flew out of the sedan when they reached the residence. There was not a light in the place lit. The three people drew their weapons. Sam wondered how much farther behind Chris and the others were. Vin reached the front door a step before the others.
He pressed lightly against the intricately carved wood and the door swung open. Its hinges creaked, and the moonlight cast eerie shadows on the floor. Vin went first, crouched low, his eyes sweeping down the hall. Sam and Ezra trotted after him. A few yards farther on the hallway split. Vin motioned with his head to the right, then pointed at Sam and Ezra and down the left corridor. Ezra nodded. They split, heading in opposite directions.
Sam clipped Ezra's heels as they moved from room to room. There was no sign of anyone in the house. Not a voice, not the sound of a TV, and no JD. The entire building appeared vacant. They entered the last room on the end of the hallway. A spiral staircase led up to the second floor.
Ezra dropped his weapon to his side. "Where the hell is JD?" he murmured. "Hunter, have you seen anything?"
"I've been right behind you the entire time Standish. What would I have seen that you didn't? All I've seen for the last five minutes is the back of your head," she snapped. She was tired and worried. Her head resumed its familiar staccato beat.
"No need for sarcasm. A simple no would suffice." A soft thump sounded from the floor above them. Samantha and Ezra looked at each other. "Upstairs. Perhaps young Mr. Dunne is entertaining the President with his impression of a clown."
"If he is I'm gonna shoot the kid," Sam grumbled. "You first."
The upstairs view differed little from the scene on the first floor. Everything was dark, and everything was quiet. Halfway down the corridor two double doors were swung out into the hall. They made their way to them.
Sam took position on the left side of the door and Ezra took his on the right. With a tight nod they burst into the room, weapons drawn. Inside, JD was backed up near the far wall, his gun up, and his body between Dwyer and Bartlett. Bartlett's face was so red he looked like he might pop. JD was pale and sweating.
Dwyer, half hidden behind a bookshelf, aimed his weapon at JD. His arm was wrapped around Agent Fuller's neck. The younger man's head bled profusely, and he looked as though he might collapse completely at any moment. Dwyer's eyes were wild, the moonlight reflecting off their glassy surface from the porch doors to his left. His gaze flickered over to Ezra and Sam.
"Move into the center of the room and place your firearms on the ground." Neither Sam nor Ezra moved. "I said place your guns on the floor now!" He screamed.
"The moment you fire that weapon you will be shot," Ezra informed the man. "I would suggest that you weigh your options carefully and not make any rash decisions."
"You really think I'm that stupid? In order to kill me you'll have to shoot my shield, and I really can't see you doing that. And at this moment I am feeling just stressed enough to try taking you all down. So put your weapons on the floor and move to the center of the room."
Ezra read her gaze. Sam blinked slowly. Ezra felt mildly taken aback. She had a plan, he was sure of it. He nodded. "All right. Nice and easy now." He laid his nine mm on he floor. Sam laid hers next to it. He took a few steps to the right, partially blocking Dwyer's view of Bartlett. Sam stood just in front of him.
"I won't hurt you. I just want Bartlett."
"Bartlett ain't coming," JD said with more certainty than he felt.
"He hasn't done anything to you Dwyer."
"What the hell do you know Standish? You're nothin but a dirty agent past his prime. The FBI didn't want you. Now you're stuck with a bunch of third rate ATF agents. Bartlett killed my Uncle. I want retribution."
"Your uncle?" Bartlett repeated, surprised and more than a little confused.
"The President didn't kill anyone Dwyer. Stan Macy committed suicide in his jail cell." JD said.
"No!" He shouted, his finger tightening around the trigger. "No. He never would have done that if it hadn't been for him. You wouldn't grant his pardon. Now he's dead."
An expression of recognition crossed Bartlett's face. "Stan Macy was your uncle?" Dwyer nodded, suddenly looking like a little kid about to cry. "Son, Stan Macy murdered a Congressional candidate."
"It wasn't his fault! His head was all screwed up, and he thought that man was trying to take away his freedom."
Bartlett was angry again. "You think that the man's stand on birth control and school vouchers warranted his murder?"
"He didn't know what he was doing! But you did. You signed his death warrant then and there."
"Excuse me for not feeling extraordinary amounts of sympathy for the man."
The two men argued back and forth, each becoming angrier by the moment. They had to act before one or both completely lost their heads. Samantha lifted her hands to her hips, a simple gesture. But Ezra realized what she was really doing. Sam raised her jacket above the waistline of her pants. There, in the holster at the small of her back was her auxiliary weapon.
Then his eye caught a movement by the door. Vin crept inside, long hair falling down over his shoulders. He nodded to Ezra. Standish leaned forward ever so slightly and whispered so that only Sam could hear. "Vin's here. On three we move." Sam tensed.
"One," his hand reached forward for the gun. "Two," Vin readied himself behind the bed. "Three."
Vin leapt up from his hiding place. "Freeze!" he yelled. Dwyer spun around at the voice firing once wildly. Sam dove to the right and Ezra yanked the gun from its holster. Dwyer had left his left side open and vulnerable. Ezra was dimly aware of JD pulling Bartlett to the floor, and Vin diving back behind the bed.
He cocked the trigger and fired. Everything around him seemed to move in slow motion. Never had it taken longer for a bullet to reach its target. When it did, Dwyer jerked. Fuller slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. The pistol slipped from Dwyer's grasp.
No one moved for a long time. They watched in disbelieving silence as Dwyer bled out in front of them. His eyes remained open and he stared fixedly at the ceiling. Eventually Vin went to Fuller and dragged him away. JD helped lever Bartlett off the ground. Sam propped herself up on an elbow. After Dwyer drew his last breath, they all left the residence together.
Ten marked squad cars and a handful of others lined the drive. Vin handed Fuller off to a paramedic. Butterfield rushed forward to lead the president into the White House. Larabee walked over to his agents. "Where is Dwyer?"
Ezra pointed back at the residence. "The man is still inside. Not to worry, he won't be moving any. Regrettably, he did not survive our latest encounter. What of Mr. Browning?"
Larabee chuckled. "We caught him on his way out the gate. He cut the power to the house and was trying to be gone by the time anyone got here. Wasn't too bright, but I reckon the lure of five hundred grand would make fools of us all. You all can go inside or whatever, but don't leave. I got a felling we'll be here for a while."
Ezra, JD and Vin walked away from a group of oncoming reporters. Samantha found Sam Seaborn at the fringe of the crowd. He waved and she went over to him. "You're alive," he stated dumbly. His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets and he stared at a spot on her forehead just above her eyes.
"Better than bein dead."
"So this is what you do."
"Not by choice. I don't like this. Hell, I don't even like guns, but it's all part of my deal."
"But this is it right?" Sam questioned. "This job is your out. You're free to do as you like now right? This was the last time."
Samantha's eyes were glassy. "Yeah," she whispered, "the last time."
--
"Damn it! Damn it all to hell!" Samantha would have thrown the phone across the room, except that it wasn't hers to throw. So she set it down on the desk and threw herself onto the couch. She placed her head in her hands. The pounding in her head was no longer the beat of a drum; it was a drill boring through her skull.
Seaborn looked up from a file. "I'm almost done. We can go to lunch in ten minutes, relax."
"It's not lunch Sam. I called my contact in the CIA and he gave me some bad news."
"What is it?"
"They have a new gig all lined up for me. I'm supposed to be in New York at the end of next week. Damn it." Sam cursed under her breath. Her fingers massaged her temples.
"What are you talking about? I thought you said that you were done, that it was over. No more jobs. I thought they were letting you out to live your own life."
"It's not over!" She exclaimed. "It's done for you! It's done for Larabee and the others. It's not over for me. It will never be over for me! Don't you get it?" She jumped up from the couch and started to pace.
"They lied Sam. I'm just a puppet they hold all the strings to. The lied and God damn it I didn't see it coming. Why the hell does this surprise me?"
Seaborn put the folder on his desk and went over to his friend. He put his arms around her shoulders. "You believed them because you wanted to. It'll work out."
Samantha stiffened and drew away. "It's not gonna work itself out. I'm stuck here for the rest of my life. I believed them even when I knew...I knew. Forget lunch. I need some time alone, to think."
Samantha grabbed her coat and headed out of the office. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she hurried past Donna and Ainsley without saying a word. "The presentation is at three Hunter!" Sam held her hand up in acknowledgement, but didn't slow her pace.
Seaborn sat down at his desk. He flipped the file open again, but the words seemed to all flow together into one messy sentence. He couldn't concentrate. After a few minutes of staring at a blank screen he gave up. He grabbed his coat from its hook. He knew what he had to do.
He caught up with Bartlett in a break between meetings. Mrs. Landingham ushered him inside. "Sam. We weren't scheduled for a meeting were we?"
"No sir. I'm here unofficially sir."
"Unofficially? What is this about Sam?"
"As you know, Samantha Hunter was an intrical part of putting an end to these terrorist threats. I know you're awarding all the ATF agents medals this afternoon sir."
"That's right. A small token of appreciation and some good PR. The nation needs heroes Sam. These men are heroes, now we're recognizing it. Don't worry though, Hunter will be included."
"It's not that sir. I was wondering if you might do me a favor. You see, the thing with Sam is..."
--
"...and I would like to commend you all for your brave service," Bartlett announced. "What you did was above and beyond the call of duty. Usually I pay people to protect me, but you did this all your own." Larabee's team fairly glowed at the president's kind words. Even Ezra, who was as stoic as they came, let his infamous Poker face slide a little.
They stood in a straight line down the middle of the Oval Office facing the President's desk. Sam stood at the far end of line. She couldn't bring herself to be enthusiastic, even though she knew she should be. It wasn't every day or every person that was personally thanked by the President of the United States.
Bartlett leaned over his desk to retrieve the medals. He placed them over each man's head and shook his hand, starting with Larabee. "For your quick thinking and gathering these men together." Vin came next, "For your courage in a dire situation and an impeccable sense of timing." Then there was Ezra, "For laying all the cards on the table and being a very good shot. JD was the last of team 7 to be awarded a medal. "For saving my life and taking out the trash," Bartlett's eyes glimmered with humor.
Then Bartlett turned to Samantha. She steeled herself, getting ready to thank the man and smile even though she felt like screaming. Bartlett watched her for a long time. He didn't talk or move and Sam started to squirm under his scrutiny.
Bartlett didn't give her a medal. When he finally stopped staring he retrieved a small rolled piece of paper from his desk. He offered it to Sam and she took it, but looked confused. Seaborn just smiled. "For you."
All the ATF and the presidential staff wanted a look at the paper. No one knew what was on it but for the president and Sam. Samantha unrolled it slowly. She read it slowly and carefully so as not to miss a word. Her eyes filled with tears.
"What on earth could make you so tearful?" Ezra inquired.
Samantha took her hand away from her mouth. "I don't believe it. It's a full presidential pardon for all my, uh, indiscretions."
Seaborn stepped forward. "Thought you might get more use out of that than a medal. Was I correct?"
"Sam! You're wonderful!" Hunter's face split into a wide smile. She threw her arms around his neck. "I can't believe you did this."
Sam whispered in her ear. "Go and live the way you want to. It's your choice now, no one else's."
Bartlett smiled and said, "Sure. I grant the pardon and my speechwriter gets the credit. That's typical."
Sam withdrew herself from Sam. "Oh, thank you too Mr. President." For a moment she looked like she might hug him too, but settled for a firm handshake instead. "You have no idea what this means."
"I think I might. Sam was very forthcoming with your story. And I managed to get my hands on your CIA file."
"Oh thank you so much." She turned to Sam. "Now it's over."
--
Two weeks later...
Sam Hunter stepped into the ATF offices in Denver. She looked around for a familiar face, and, not seeing one, proceeded down the hall toward Larabee's office. She had been back in Denver for just over a week. It seemed like much longer. The events in DC seemed very surreal and very far away. It was odd to wake up and not have to be someplace or have someone to report to. Odd, but pleasant at the same time.
She rapped lightly on the solid oak door. A muffled voice from inside called for her to enter. Her eyes widened as she saw the bountiful presence in the room. All seven agents that she had met some three weeks earlier were seated in the office. Larabee was seated behind his desk, his feet propped up on the tabletop. Buck hung close to JD, thrilled to have his friend back and in one piece. Nathan and Josiah stood at the far wall, looking very quiet and serious. Vin appeared to be half asleep, but she could see him grin. Ezra's face revealed nothing.
"What did I do now?"
"Nothing," Chris stated.
"So you're not arresting me?"
He smiled thinly. "Wasn't plannin on it. Why, you do something wrong?"
"Nope, forget I said a thing. So what is it then?"
"Sit." It was a command and she treated it as such, reflexively jumping into the nearest seat she could find.
"You may have noticed that our team isn't exactly, regulation."
Sam snorted. "That's putting it mildly. You all are about as far from Kosher as a pig in a spit. I think the polite thing would be to say that you're eclectic."
"Be that as it may we are very affective in what we do. You seem to fit in quite well with that dynamic."
"What our infamous leader is attempting to get across is that he has already cleared the request with the brass upstairs. Now it's up to you." Ezra interrupted.
"Thank you Ez, but I can talk for myself. Look Hunter, we've discussed it long and hard and we want to make you an offer." He didn't seem to notice Sam shaking her head softly. "We wish to offer you a posi..." His voice trailed off.
Sam shook her head vehemently. "Stop, stop, stop, please. Don't ask me that."
"Why not?" JD queried, sounding mildly hurt.
"Cause if you ask I am bound to say yes. And I'm not sure I want to say yes. You all are the finest group of men I have ever met in my life. It would be an honor to work along side you."
"I think I'm missing your problem then missy." Buck told her.
"I've been here before, I've done what you do. Not exactly the same, but pretty close, and I've done it for a lot of years. And it was never my decision. If I say yes then I am right back where I came from, where I wanted to get away from. I'm afraid that in time I'll feel like I never got out, and I don't want to resent this place. For the first time in my life I get to choose my own path. Let me choose it. Who knows? It may very well lead me right back here, but I need to walk that path just the same. Can you understand?"
Larabee's head fell so that it was resting against his chest. He sighed. "I think we can respect your decision. Don't think it mean's we'll stop asking."
Sam managed a small, thin smile. "I wouldn't want it any other way." She stood up from her chair. "I'll be goin now. I took a job as a karate teacher downtown. I'll be around, don't you worry. So, bye."
Sam headed back down the hall to the elevator. The agents filtered slowly from Larabee's office. Vin and Ezra watched the elevator doors slide shut. "Think she'll be back Ez?"
"I doubt very much indeed that Ms. Hunter is the type to fade quietly into the night. Yes Vin, I believe she will be back someday."
THE END
Well, that's the end of it. Hope you enjoyed the story, the crossover and Sam. Maybe I'll try Mag 7 and JAG next... Review if you want to, thanks.
Author's note: Our friends from the WW and the Mag 7 aren't done quite yet. I thought this up after I submitted Chapter 3. Just a little conclusion too, to wrap everything up. I'll leave it at that, because if you're reading this you've probably already read the other three chapters. Disclaimer still applies.
~~
Ezra Standish slowly peeled himself off the floor where he'd thrown himself during the shooting. He brushed off the black jacket and stared at the wall behind him. He gulped. Where he had been standing moments earlier, the wall was now riddled with bullet holes. "That was too close," he murmured.
He was still staring at the wall when Josh Lyman, the president's Deputy Chief of Staff strode over. "Hey!" Ezra turned to see a red faced Lyman glaring at him. "You could have gotten Donna killed."
"But it appears that such a unfortunate incident did not take place. Young Miss Moss is quite well and quite whole."
Lyman swung at the southerner. Ezra ducked the punch easily. "I believe I'll let that slide Mr. Lyman, as emotions are running high at the moment. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Agents Butterfield and Larabee." Ezra walked smoothly by. Josh looked like he might run after him, but Seaborn stopped him.
"Josh. Josh relax. Donna is fine, not a scratch on her."
"He could have gotten her killed Sam." Lyman's voice was little more than a pained whisper.
"True, but he didn't. He knew exactly how to bait the man and did it to perfection. Donna probably owes him her life. Now go over and see her." Josh complied, the fight gone out of him. Seaborn turned his attention to the four federal agents talking by the overturned buffet table.
Leo McGarry, Vin Tanner, Chris Larabee and Ron Butterfield were discussing the events of the evening. "So it's over then," Leo commented.
"Yes Leo it is. We've got the terrorists and we know the Secret Service agent involved in the whole mess." Butterfield shook his head somberly. "I just can't believe that my own man tricked me. He was a good agent. Shame."
"He took us all for fools Ron, nothing you did was wrong. But I'm confused, how did these guys get in here loaded with weapons?" Leo asked.
Vin fielded the answer. "Apparently they were hired on as caterers. The vans all were loaded down by food and trays. Dwyer was in charge of doing a search of the vans. He conveniently overlooked the fact that the vans all had false paneling, which is where they stored the guns. The materials for the bombs were brought in crates disguised as food. Sort of clever when you think about it."
"A little too clever for my taste," Larabee grunted.
Ezra trotted over to the group. "So sorry for interrupting, but where is Dwyer. I have been looking forward to thoroughly berating the man myself. I don't see him among the miscreants. Has he already been taken in?"
Chris frowned. "What do you mean he's not here? Of course he's here."
"I apologize Mr. Larabee, but Dwyer is most assuredly not among these contemptuous villains."
Samantha Hunter rushed over, sliding to a stop on the parquet floor. "Browning isn't here either."
Leo blinked. "What do you mean not here?"
"Not here," Samantha snapped. "As in absent, not present, not in the general vicinity. He's not here and neither is Dwyer."
"Browning," Butterfield mumbled. "Tall, dark hair, built like a Mac truck?"
"Yeah."
Vin glanced at Larabee, a sense of panic rising in his chest. "Cowboy." Chris nodded and Vin started to run for the exit. Chris whistled. Vin paused. Larabee tossed the keys to his borrowed car to the sharpshooter. Vin caught them and ran on.
Samantha and Ezra started after him. "Get going. Ron and I will be right behind you. I told JD to bring him to the residence." Sam and Ez disappeared into the night. No one wanted to think about what the absence of the two agents could mean.
--
JD felt out of place in the company of those two men. McGarry and Bartlett who knew so much more than he about life. He thought they might know more than he ever did. McGarry had fought in Vietnam, a war he hadn't even seen through a babe's eyes. And Bartlett, Bartlett was the Commander and Chief. He ran the country. JD felt like a kid around them, more so than he ever did with any of the Seven.
Bartlett watched him quietly and it was enough to make JD nervous. They waited together in the darkened room for some sign from Larabee or Leo. His unwavering stare was enough for JD to wish that Buck was there right then, to tease him and distract him. "I think," he started quietly, "I think everything will work out."
Bartlett cocked his head to one side. "What makes you say that? That was utter chaos."
"You would have stayed," JD remarked.
"Maybe. Chaos is a prerequisite in the White House. I think I'm used to it by now."
"Normally your chaos isn't further complicated by weaponry."
"True. And I must say, Abbey would wring my neck if I got shot again this year. She's a doctor and the whole thing seriously upsets her."
"Really?" JD smiled, feeling marginally more at ease. "I wonder why?" Bartlett was just a man. A powerful man, but a man just the same.
"How long have you worked with Larabee anyway?"
JD shrugged. "Not sure, two years maybe?"
"So then you know your colleagues fairly well?" JD nodded. "Then tell me, what's your take on the situation?"
"Sir, we tend to have a penchant for getting into sticky situations. We all know how to work in tight spots. We've all had to do our share of quick talking. The terrorists are not the problem. They're hoods, just like any other. The situation tonight...the thing I don't like about it is that we really don't know who is on our side, and who is just pretending. I do have complete faith in Chris and Vin and Ezra though. They'll get through, and they'll get everyone else through with them."
Their conversation might have continued, but there was a soft thunk from outside in the hall. JD immediately drew his weapon, every nerve in his body on edge. "Stay here Mr. President. Actually, get down if you can." The hallway was empty and dark. JD tried the switch, but the lights remained out. He felt the first drop of perspiration roll down his neck. His heart hammered inside his chest and he stepped out into the darkness.
--
Samantha, Vin and Ezra fairly flew out of the sedan when they reached the residence. There was not a light in the place lit. The three people drew their weapons. Sam wondered how much farther behind Chris and the others were. Vin reached the front door a step before the others.
He pressed lightly against the intricately carved wood and the door swung open. Its hinges creaked, and the moonlight cast eerie shadows on the floor. Vin went first, crouched low, his eyes sweeping down the hall. Sam and Ezra trotted after him. A few yards farther on the hallway split. Vin motioned with his head to the right, then pointed at Sam and Ezra and down the left corridor. Ezra nodded. They split, heading in opposite directions.
Sam clipped Ezra's heels as they moved from room to room. There was no sign of anyone in the house. Not a voice, not the sound of a TV, and no JD. The entire building appeared vacant. They entered the last room on the end of the hallway. A spiral staircase led up to the second floor.
Ezra dropped his weapon to his side. "Where the hell is JD?" he murmured. "Hunter, have you seen anything?"
"I've been right behind you the entire time Standish. What would I have seen that you didn't? All I've seen for the last five minutes is the back of your head," she snapped. She was tired and worried. Her head resumed its familiar staccato beat.
"No need for sarcasm. A simple no would suffice." A soft thump sounded from the floor above them. Samantha and Ezra looked at each other. "Upstairs. Perhaps young Mr. Dunne is entertaining the President with his impression of a clown."
"If he is I'm gonna shoot the kid," Sam grumbled. "You first."
The upstairs view differed little from the scene on the first floor. Everything was dark, and everything was quiet. Halfway down the corridor two double doors were swung out into the hall. They made their way to them.
Sam took position on the left side of the door and Ezra took his on the right. With a tight nod they burst into the room, weapons drawn. Inside, JD was backed up near the far wall, his gun up, and his body between Dwyer and Bartlett. Bartlett's face was so red he looked like he might pop. JD was pale and sweating.
Dwyer, half hidden behind a bookshelf, aimed his weapon at JD. His arm was wrapped around Agent Fuller's neck. The younger man's head bled profusely, and he looked as though he might collapse completely at any moment. Dwyer's eyes were wild, the moonlight reflecting off their glassy surface from the porch doors to his left. His gaze flickered over to Ezra and Sam.
"Move into the center of the room and place your firearms on the ground." Neither Sam nor Ezra moved. "I said place your guns on the floor now!" He screamed.
"The moment you fire that weapon you will be shot," Ezra informed the man. "I would suggest that you weigh your options carefully and not make any rash decisions."
"You really think I'm that stupid? In order to kill me you'll have to shoot my shield, and I really can't see you doing that. And at this moment I am feeling just stressed enough to try taking you all down. So put your weapons on the floor and move to the center of the room."
Ezra read her gaze. Sam blinked slowly. Ezra felt mildly taken aback. She had a plan, he was sure of it. He nodded. "All right. Nice and easy now." He laid his nine mm on he floor. Sam laid hers next to it. He took a few steps to the right, partially blocking Dwyer's view of Bartlett. Sam stood just in front of him.
"I won't hurt you. I just want Bartlett."
"Bartlett ain't coming," JD said with more certainty than he felt.
"He hasn't done anything to you Dwyer."
"What the hell do you know Standish? You're nothin but a dirty agent past his prime. The FBI didn't want you. Now you're stuck with a bunch of third rate ATF agents. Bartlett killed my Uncle. I want retribution."
"Your uncle?" Bartlett repeated, surprised and more than a little confused.
"The President didn't kill anyone Dwyer. Stan Macy committed suicide in his jail cell." JD said.
"No!" He shouted, his finger tightening around the trigger. "No. He never would have done that if it hadn't been for him. You wouldn't grant his pardon. Now he's dead."
An expression of recognition crossed Bartlett's face. "Stan Macy was your uncle?" Dwyer nodded, suddenly looking like a little kid about to cry. "Son, Stan Macy murdered a Congressional candidate."
"It wasn't his fault! His head was all screwed up, and he thought that man was trying to take away his freedom."
Bartlett was angry again. "You think that the man's stand on birth control and school vouchers warranted his murder?"
"He didn't know what he was doing! But you did. You signed his death warrant then and there."
"Excuse me for not feeling extraordinary amounts of sympathy for the man."
The two men argued back and forth, each becoming angrier by the moment. They had to act before one or both completely lost their heads. Samantha lifted her hands to her hips, a simple gesture. But Ezra realized what she was really doing. Sam raised her jacket above the waistline of her pants. There, in the holster at the small of her back was her auxiliary weapon.
Then his eye caught a movement by the door. Vin crept inside, long hair falling down over his shoulders. He nodded to Ezra. Standish leaned forward ever so slightly and whispered so that only Sam could hear. "Vin's here. On three we move." Sam tensed.
"One," his hand reached forward for the gun. "Two," Vin readied himself behind the bed. "Three."
Vin leapt up from his hiding place. "Freeze!" he yelled. Dwyer spun around at the voice firing once wildly. Sam dove to the right and Ezra yanked the gun from its holster. Dwyer had left his left side open and vulnerable. Ezra was dimly aware of JD pulling Bartlett to the floor, and Vin diving back behind the bed.
He cocked the trigger and fired. Everything around him seemed to move in slow motion. Never had it taken longer for a bullet to reach its target. When it did, Dwyer jerked. Fuller slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. The pistol slipped from Dwyer's grasp.
No one moved for a long time. They watched in disbelieving silence as Dwyer bled out in front of them. His eyes remained open and he stared fixedly at the ceiling. Eventually Vin went to Fuller and dragged him away. JD helped lever Bartlett off the ground. Sam propped herself up on an elbow. After Dwyer drew his last breath, they all left the residence together.
Ten marked squad cars and a handful of others lined the drive. Vin handed Fuller off to a paramedic. Butterfield rushed forward to lead the president into the White House. Larabee walked over to his agents. "Where is Dwyer?"
Ezra pointed back at the residence. "The man is still inside. Not to worry, he won't be moving any. Regrettably, he did not survive our latest encounter. What of Mr. Browning?"
Larabee chuckled. "We caught him on his way out the gate. He cut the power to the house and was trying to be gone by the time anyone got here. Wasn't too bright, but I reckon the lure of five hundred grand would make fools of us all. You all can go inside or whatever, but don't leave. I got a felling we'll be here for a while."
Ezra, JD and Vin walked away from a group of oncoming reporters. Samantha found Sam Seaborn at the fringe of the crowd. He waved and she went over to him. "You're alive," he stated dumbly. His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets and he stared at a spot on her forehead just above her eyes.
"Better than bein dead."
"So this is what you do."
"Not by choice. I don't like this. Hell, I don't even like guns, but it's all part of my deal."
"But this is it right?" Sam questioned. "This job is your out. You're free to do as you like now right? This was the last time."
Samantha's eyes were glassy. "Yeah," she whispered, "the last time."
--
"Damn it! Damn it all to hell!" Samantha would have thrown the phone across the room, except that it wasn't hers to throw. So she set it down on the desk and threw herself onto the couch. She placed her head in her hands. The pounding in her head was no longer the beat of a drum; it was a drill boring through her skull.
Seaborn looked up from a file. "I'm almost done. We can go to lunch in ten minutes, relax."
"It's not lunch Sam. I called my contact in the CIA and he gave me some bad news."
"What is it?"
"They have a new gig all lined up for me. I'm supposed to be in New York at the end of next week. Damn it." Sam cursed under her breath. Her fingers massaged her temples.
"What are you talking about? I thought you said that you were done, that it was over. No more jobs. I thought they were letting you out to live your own life."
"It's not over!" She exclaimed. "It's done for you! It's done for Larabee and the others. It's not over for me. It will never be over for me! Don't you get it?" She jumped up from the couch and started to pace.
"They lied Sam. I'm just a puppet they hold all the strings to. The lied and God damn it I didn't see it coming. Why the hell does this surprise me?"
Seaborn put the folder on his desk and went over to his friend. He put his arms around her shoulders. "You believed them because you wanted to. It'll work out."
Samantha stiffened and drew away. "It's not gonna work itself out. I'm stuck here for the rest of my life. I believed them even when I knew...I knew. Forget lunch. I need some time alone, to think."
Samantha grabbed her coat and headed out of the office. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she hurried past Donna and Ainsley without saying a word. "The presentation is at three Hunter!" Sam held her hand up in acknowledgement, but didn't slow her pace.
Seaborn sat down at his desk. He flipped the file open again, but the words seemed to all flow together into one messy sentence. He couldn't concentrate. After a few minutes of staring at a blank screen he gave up. He grabbed his coat from its hook. He knew what he had to do.
He caught up with Bartlett in a break between meetings. Mrs. Landingham ushered him inside. "Sam. We weren't scheduled for a meeting were we?"
"No sir. I'm here unofficially sir."
"Unofficially? What is this about Sam?"
"As you know, Samantha Hunter was an intrical part of putting an end to these terrorist threats. I know you're awarding all the ATF agents medals this afternoon sir."
"That's right. A small token of appreciation and some good PR. The nation needs heroes Sam. These men are heroes, now we're recognizing it. Don't worry though, Hunter will be included."
"It's not that sir. I was wondering if you might do me a favor. You see, the thing with Sam is..."
--
"...and I would like to commend you all for your brave service," Bartlett announced. "What you did was above and beyond the call of duty. Usually I pay people to protect me, but you did this all your own." Larabee's team fairly glowed at the president's kind words. Even Ezra, who was as stoic as they came, let his infamous Poker face slide a little.
They stood in a straight line down the middle of the Oval Office facing the President's desk. Sam stood at the far end of line. She couldn't bring herself to be enthusiastic, even though she knew she should be. It wasn't every day or every person that was personally thanked by the President of the United States.
Bartlett leaned over his desk to retrieve the medals. He placed them over each man's head and shook his hand, starting with Larabee. "For your quick thinking and gathering these men together." Vin came next, "For your courage in a dire situation and an impeccable sense of timing." Then there was Ezra, "For laying all the cards on the table and being a very good shot. JD was the last of team 7 to be awarded a medal. "For saving my life and taking out the trash," Bartlett's eyes glimmered with humor.
Then Bartlett turned to Samantha. She steeled herself, getting ready to thank the man and smile even though she felt like screaming. Bartlett watched her for a long time. He didn't talk or move and Sam started to squirm under his scrutiny.
Bartlett didn't give her a medal. When he finally stopped staring he retrieved a small rolled piece of paper from his desk. He offered it to Sam and she took it, but looked confused. Seaborn just smiled. "For you."
All the ATF and the presidential staff wanted a look at the paper. No one knew what was on it but for the president and Sam. Samantha unrolled it slowly. She read it slowly and carefully so as not to miss a word. Her eyes filled with tears.
"What on earth could make you so tearful?" Ezra inquired.
Samantha took her hand away from her mouth. "I don't believe it. It's a full presidential pardon for all my, uh, indiscretions."
Seaborn stepped forward. "Thought you might get more use out of that than a medal. Was I correct?"
"Sam! You're wonderful!" Hunter's face split into a wide smile. She threw her arms around his neck. "I can't believe you did this."
Sam whispered in her ear. "Go and live the way you want to. It's your choice now, no one else's."
Bartlett smiled and said, "Sure. I grant the pardon and my speechwriter gets the credit. That's typical."
Sam withdrew herself from Sam. "Oh, thank you too Mr. President." For a moment she looked like she might hug him too, but settled for a firm handshake instead. "You have no idea what this means."
"I think I might. Sam was very forthcoming with your story. And I managed to get my hands on your CIA file."
"Oh thank you so much." She turned to Sam. "Now it's over."
--
Two weeks later...
Sam Hunter stepped into the ATF offices in Denver. She looked around for a familiar face, and, not seeing one, proceeded down the hall toward Larabee's office. She had been back in Denver for just over a week. It seemed like much longer. The events in DC seemed very surreal and very far away. It was odd to wake up and not have to be someplace or have someone to report to. Odd, but pleasant at the same time.
She rapped lightly on the solid oak door. A muffled voice from inside called for her to enter. Her eyes widened as she saw the bountiful presence in the room. All seven agents that she had met some three weeks earlier were seated in the office. Larabee was seated behind his desk, his feet propped up on the tabletop. Buck hung close to JD, thrilled to have his friend back and in one piece. Nathan and Josiah stood at the far wall, looking very quiet and serious. Vin appeared to be half asleep, but she could see him grin. Ezra's face revealed nothing.
"What did I do now?"
"Nothing," Chris stated.
"So you're not arresting me?"
He smiled thinly. "Wasn't plannin on it. Why, you do something wrong?"
"Nope, forget I said a thing. So what is it then?"
"Sit." It was a command and she treated it as such, reflexively jumping into the nearest seat she could find.
"You may have noticed that our team isn't exactly, regulation."
Sam snorted. "That's putting it mildly. You all are about as far from Kosher as a pig in a spit. I think the polite thing would be to say that you're eclectic."
"Be that as it may we are very affective in what we do. You seem to fit in quite well with that dynamic."
"What our infamous leader is attempting to get across is that he has already cleared the request with the brass upstairs. Now it's up to you." Ezra interrupted.
"Thank you Ez, but I can talk for myself. Look Hunter, we've discussed it long and hard and we want to make you an offer." He didn't seem to notice Sam shaking her head softly. "We wish to offer you a posi..." His voice trailed off.
Sam shook her head vehemently. "Stop, stop, stop, please. Don't ask me that."
"Why not?" JD queried, sounding mildly hurt.
"Cause if you ask I am bound to say yes. And I'm not sure I want to say yes. You all are the finest group of men I have ever met in my life. It would be an honor to work along side you."
"I think I'm missing your problem then missy." Buck told her.
"I've been here before, I've done what you do. Not exactly the same, but pretty close, and I've done it for a lot of years. And it was never my decision. If I say yes then I am right back where I came from, where I wanted to get away from. I'm afraid that in time I'll feel like I never got out, and I don't want to resent this place. For the first time in my life I get to choose my own path. Let me choose it. Who knows? It may very well lead me right back here, but I need to walk that path just the same. Can you understand?"
Larabee's head fell so that it was resting against his chest. He sighed. "I think we can respect your decision. Don't think it mean's we'll stop asking."
Sam managed a small, thin smile. "I wouldn't want it any other way." She stood up from her chair. "I'll be goin now. I took a job as a karate teacher downtown. I'll be around, don't you worry. So, bye."
Sam headed back down the hall to the elevator. The agents filtered slowly from Larabee's office. Vin and Ezra watched the elevator doors slide shut. "Think she'll be back Ez?"
"I doubt very much indeed that Ms. Hunter is the type to fade quietly into the night. Yes Vin, I believe she will be back someday."
THE END
Well, that's the end of it. Hope you enjoyed the story, the crossover and Sam. Maybe I'll try Mag 7 and JAG next... Review if you want to, thanks.