Silent Memories
by Violette
Part 7
Eventually, the two men made their way back to the waiting room, where Ezra returned to his seat in the corner. Undaunted, JD went with him, refusing to allow his troubled friend to isolate himself from them. The other men watched without comment, but Buck nodded quietly in approval when he caught JD's gaze. Josiah smiled, noting the protective action on the part of their youngest. JD might have been young, but he had good instincts, especially when it came to those he claimed as friends.
Chris stole a glance at his undercover agent, noting the change in attire. He silently chastised himself for not paying more attention to him earlier. Ezra had to be as worried as the rest of them, if not more. He started toward the southerner, stopping when he caught sight of A.D. Travis entering the room.
"Chris," Travis greeted the blond agent. "How is Tanner?"
"Still in surgery," Chris said. "He got hit twice – drive-by at Ezra's place."
Travis switched his gaze to the undercover agent, who was still sitting quietly in the corner. "Is he all right?"
"Yeah," Chris said. "Vin tackled him when the shooting started."
"Do you think it's related to the explosion last week?"
"It's a good possibility," Chris said. "Two attempts on my men in a week's time isn't a coincidence."
Travis sighed and shook his head. "This was not the kind of news I wanted to hear when I got home."
"Not the kind I wanted to deliver, either," Chris replied.
"Any idea who's behind all of this?"
"Not yet, but we're working on it."
"I'll make sure you get the resources you need."
"We'd appreciate that." Chris wasn't surprised to see the steely look in his boss's eye. Travis was as protective of his men as he was, and would not sit idly by while they were being threatened.
Travis nodded. "Looks like I'd better pull up a chair." He looked for an empty chair, deciding on the one next to Ezra. He wanted to get the undercover agent's perspective on recent incidents. While he didn't always see eye to eye with the independent-minded southerner, he appreciated the man's unique insights into situations.
"Would you like some coffee, sir?" JD asked the Assistant Director as he took a seat.
"That would be nice, Agent Dunne," Travis said with a faint smile for his young agent. "Cream and two sugars, if you would."
"No problem." JD jumped up and made his way around the room, taking coffee orders from his teammates, before heading down to the cafeteria.
Travis turned to Ezra. "What can you tell me about the shooting?"
Ezra, staring at the floor, was unaware that anyone was speaking to him.
"Standish?" Travis said, frowning at the lack of response from the normally verbose man.
Josiah, seeing the problem, walked over to sit beside Ezra, tapping his arm to get his attention. At the younger man's questioning gaze, he pointed at Travis.
Turning to face Travis, Ezra schooled his features into an impassive mask, and said politely, "What can I do for you, sir?"
Puzzled, Travis looked to Josiah for an explanation.
"Ezra can't hear anything," Josiah explained from behind the southerner.
Travis looked back at Ezra, seeing the truth in that when the younger man didn't react to Josiah's statement. Ezra was good, but so was Orrin Travis. He had spent a lot of years as a federal judge and had quite a knack for reading people, picking up on even the slightest hint of emotion. Having faced off with Ezra before, he had become adept at discerning the subtle reactions of the man. There weren't many – Ezra was very good – but there were enough that he could usually get a good feel for the southerner's true state of mind. He sighed inwardly, wondering what else could go wrong with his men this week. "I suppose I ought to find a pen and paper, then."
Ezra looked at him uncertainly, flicking his gaze to Josiah, who pointed at his ears. Slumping in his chair, Ezra again fixed his eyes on the floor. "That won't be necessary sir."
Travis raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh?"
"He reads lips," Josiah supplied with a chuckle.
"All right," Travis said uncertainly. "Suppose you explain how you came to have this condition." He watched his agent carefully, wondering if he actually understood what he had just said.
Flinching slightly, Ezra summarized the events of the past week, not looking his superior in the eye for fear of recrimination.
Shocked, Travis sat back in his chair, absorbing what he had been told. This was certainly not something he had expected, though he should have learned by now not to be surprised by anything when it came to Team Seven. Finally, he looked at Ezra, touching his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
Ezra's eyes widened at the honest sympathy and concern he saw in the older man's face. "I've been worse," he said with a shrug.
"You've certainly looked better," Travis said with an encouraging smile. "Do you have any ideas as to who might be after you or Tanner?"
"None yet, sir," Ezra said glumly. "I am planning to go through my files after we see Mr. Tanner."
"Make sure you take one of the others with you," Travis said. "If someone is after you, I don't want you going anywhere alone."
Ezra bristled at the comment, but kept silent, knowing his protests would be ignored.
"I mean it," Travis warned.
"Of course, sir," Ezra said mildly. Unless I find it necessary to do so.
Travis nodded, satisfied with his answer for the time being.
No one was in much of a mood for idle conversation, so they sat in silence, alternately pacing and drinking coffee. Finally, after three hours, the doctor entered the room. As one, the assembled men stood and gathered in front of him.
"You're here for Mr. Tanner?" he asked.
"Yes," Chris answered succinctly. "How is he?"
"Your Mr. Tanner is a very lucky man," the doctor began. "He sustained two bullet wounds, one to the right side of his chest and one to the left shoulder." He pointed to the corresponding locations on his own body. "The shoulder injury was fairly clean, with the bullet lodging itself in his shoulder blade. It nicked an artery, but didn't do too much serious damage."
"And the other one?" Nathan prompted when the doctor paused to take a breath.
"The other one was a little more complicated," the doctor continued. "It deflected off of a rib on the way in and exited at an angle. There were quite a few bone splinters to remove along its path."
"Will he be all right?" JD asked, his voice quavering slightly.
"Barring any unforeseen complications, he should be fine." The doctor smiled. "Mr. Tanner was very fortunate to have received such timely care. He might not have made it if he hadn't been treated so quickly at the scene."
The men in the room breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, clapping Nathan on the back for his efforts in saving Vin, much to the man's embarrassment.
"When can we see him?" Buck asked.
"He's in recovery now, but we can let you see him two at a time," the doctor said. "But only for a few minutes."
"Chris, why don't you and Ezra go first," Josiah suggested.
Chris nodded, knowing that the worried southerner needed to see for himself that Vin was all right. He tugged on Ezra's sleeve. "Come on, Ez. Let's go see Vin."
Ezra nodded reluctantly, not particularly eager to see the damage wrought by his own selfish behavior. He felt terrible about what had happened, but he did need to know if his teammate was going to be all right. Besides, he owed it to Vin to be there for him. It was the least he could do for the man who saved his life.
Tubes, wires, monitors, and the pale, lifeless form on the bed made Ezra want to flee the room as fast as his feet would take him, but Chris's solid presence behind him prevented that kind of maneuver. Instead, he moved closer, taking a place near the head of the bed, wincing at the grayish pallor of the sharpshooter's skin.
"Everybody looks like hell when they're in here," Chris said, seeing the expression on Ezra's face. "Even Buck," he added with a grin.
Ezra smiled faintly, knowing how vehemently the mustached agent defended his good looks. "I suppose that's true... though it doesn't make it easier to witness."
Chris turned to look at his bedridden friend. "No, it doesn't."
They spent the allotted few minutes with Vin before returning to the waiting room to allow the others to visit. Ezra dropped into a chair and began picking at his torn bandages again. After a few minutes, he looked up at Chris and said determinedly, "I'm going into the office to search my files."
Chris met his resolute gaze and knew there would be no changing his mind. He didn't like it, but he understood the man's desire to make sense of what was happening. "All right, but one of us is going with you."
Ezra nodded, not really caring about the company, as long as he could do something useful.
Noticing Ezra's hands for the first time, Chris frowned. "I want you to get those hands looked at, too." He held up his hand to halt any protest. "Nathan can take a look when he gets back from seeing Vin. If he says you need a doctor, though...." He left the rest unsaid, knowing his point had been made.
"Very well," Ezra said, figuring that was the best deal he was going to get.
Nathan and JD returned from seeing Vin a few minutes later.
"What's the verdict, Nate?" Buck asked as he and Josiah prepared to go to Vin's room.
"His vitals look good," Nathan said encouragingly. "From what I could see, he'll probably be fine. He just needs lots of rest and time to let his body heal."
The entire group relaxed fractionally at the words, trusting Nathan's opinion. Smiling, Buck and Josiah left to take their turn with Vin.
"I'd better get back home before Evie starts to worry," Travis said, climbing wearily to his feet. "Keep me up to date on how Vin is doing."
"We will," Chris assured him.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Make sure you boys get some rest yourselves," Travis said, tossing a wave at the group as he headed for the door.
"Nate, can you check Ezra's hands?" Chris inquired once the Assistant Director had departed. "I think he messed them up some more during the shooting."
Nathan immediately looked at the undercover agent, who was staring the floor again. Frowning, he stood and made his way to Ezra's side, mentally chastising himself for not noticing the shredded bandages sooner. "Ez?" He touched him on the shoulder, then pointed at his hands when Ezra looked up at him.
Nodding reluctantly, Ezra held out his hands for inspection.
Nathan carefully unwrapped the bandages and checked the healing injuries underneath. "Well, they don't look too bad. Just need a little cleaning up." He straightened and looked around the room thoughtfully. "I'll see if I can't scare up some fresh bandages to put on these." He headed for the nurse's station, returning a few minutes later with some antiseptic cream and rolls of gauze and tape. Expertly re-bandaging the hands, he looked Ezra in the eye and asked seriously, "How do they feel? Do you need any pain meds?"
Ezra gently flexed his fingers and contemplated that question for a minute before shrugging. "I believe some aspirin would suffice."
"I've got some Tylenol in my car," Nathan offered.
"That will do," Ezra said, smiling appreciatively.
"Would you mind going with Ez to the office?" Chris asked suddenly.
"The office?" Nathan looked at his boss curiously.
"He wants to dig through some files, see if he can make some headway into figuring out who's after him and Vin," Chris explained, sending Nathan a meaningful look.
"Ah, sure, Chris," Nathan said. He had caught the look and realized that Ezra needed something to distract him from the situation. Feeling helpless was something he understood and he was more than willing to do something productive. Vin would be in good hands here and would hardly miss them in his unconscious state.
"Shall we, Mr. Jackson?" Ezra said, having 'heard' what Chris had said.
"Let's go," Nathan said, pulling out his car keys.
The words began to blur and the blinking cursor seemed to mock his futile efforts at divining the information held within its domain. Closing his eyes wearily, Ezra rotated his neck on his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness that had taken up residence in the muscles there. So far, he had been unable to find anything in his files that seemed relevant to the attempts on his life. It frustrated him that he had not made any kind of progress, especially when Vin was lying in a hospital bed because of it.
Nathan wandered over to Ezra's desk, scrutinizing him closely. With a stern expression, he said, "Come on, Ez. We've been here for five hours. You're starting to look a little ragged."
"I'm fine, Mr. Jackson," Ezra insisted. "I am quite able to continue."
"It's been a long night, Ez," Nathan argued. "I'm beat and I know you could use a little sleep." He slapped Ezra companionably on the shoulder. "Besides, you'll be able to think more clearly after a good night's sleep."
Ezra noted the dark bags under Nathan's eyes and relented, not wanting to keep the man from his own rest. "I suppose you are correct. My down pillow does sound rather enticing at the moment."
"We should probably crash at my place," Nathan said. "The attacker obviously knows where you live, so I'd feel better if you didn't stay there."
Nodding at the wisdom of that idea, Ezra asked, "Can we just stop by my place for a few things? I'd be more comfortable in some clean clothes."
"All right, but just for a few minutes," Nathan said, smiling at the ease with which he had convinced his stubborn comrade to leave. It didn't happen very often and he was going to savor every minute of it. "Let's go."
Ezra signed off of the computer and grabbed his coat, following Nathan out of the quiet office. They didn't have to wait long for the elevator and were soon on their way to Ezra's apartment. At that late hour, traffic was light and they made very good time, arriving at the condo complex within twenty minutes.
Nathan parked the Blazer across from Ezra's townhouse and then the two of them crossed the street toward the building. Halfway across the road, Ezra spotted some movement from the corner of his eye. Before he could react, Nathan shoved him roughly forward, knocking him to the ground near the curb. Ezra scrambled onto the sidewalk and immediately turned to look for his teammate.
Watching helplessly, Ezra saw the car hit Nathan, tossing him into the air like a rag doll before racing away from the scene, leaving Nathan lying in a crumpled heap in the road. Ezra struggled to his feet and rushed to the fallen man's side.
"Nathan?" he called frantically, pressing a finger to the unconscious man's neck, praying that there would be a pulse. He almost wept with relief when he felt the steady beat under his finger. Fumbling in his jacket, Ezra pulled out his cell phone and with shaking hands, dialed 911.
There was no way to tell if anyone had answered the call, so he continuously repeated his request for assistance, explaining that he was deaf and unable to hear their responses. Finally, the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle became visible and he was able to shut off the phone.
The police had arrived shortly after the ambulance and Ezra was immediately pulled aside by one of the officers. In the darkness, he was unable to see the patrolman's face clearly, though he could tell the man was speaking to him. He held up a hand and politely interrupted. "Officer, I am quite deaf and will need to move into the light in order to understand what you are saying."
The officer stared at him for a moment in consternation before nodding and gesturing toward Ezra's building and the lighted entryway in front of it.
Ezra followed him, and was soon able to get a clearly lit view of the man's face.
"Is this better?" the officer asked.
"Much," Ezra replied.
"Would you state your name, please?"
"Agent Ezra Standish," Ezra replied, displaying his federal identification.
The officer's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "ATF? Can you tell me what happened?"
"Of course, Officer..." Ezra paused, looking at the nametag on his uniform. "...Barclay. My associate, Mr. Jackson, and I had just arrived and were crossing the street in order to get to my townhouse, when a large, dark-colored sedan careened down the street toward us. Mr. Jackson pushed me out of the way and then attempted to remove himself from the path of the vehicle."
Ezra rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Unfortunately, he was not entirely successful. The vehicle struck him and left the scene at great speed. I called for assistance once I had ascertained that he was still among the living." He looked over to where the paramedics were working on Nathan, swallowing against the emotions that were threatening to overtake him.
"Can you tell me anything else about the car?" Officer Barclay asked once Ezra had returned his attention to his face.
"It was a dark color, blue, black, or possibly green – it was difficult to determine, as it was covered in dirt," Ezra said with a sigh, wishing he had gotten a better look at it. "I only got a fleeting glimpse of it as it sped away, but it looked like an older model Buick sedan. One thing I can tell you is that it was deliberately aiming for us."
"What makes you say that?" Barclay looked at him skeptically.
"Its headlights were not lit and it increased its speed as it approached us. This is also the third attempt on my life in the past week," Ezra stated blandly. "One of my other associates is in the hospital as a result of an attempt earlier this evening." Ezra looked at his watch, noting that it was nearly three AM. "Make that, last evening."
"I assume your boys are looking into that?"
"Most definitely," Ezra replied. "In fact, Mr. Jackson and myself had spent the past several hours doing just that and were coming here to retrieve some things before heading off to get some sleep."
"All right," Barclay said, scribbling a few more lines into his notebook before shutting it. "I guess we'll be coordinating with you guys on this. You need a ride to the hospital?"
"Actually, I believe I will stay here," Ezra replied. "I'm simply too exhausted to go anywhere at the moment."
"You have anyone to stay with you?"
"I will be fine," Ezra said dismissively. "But you could do me a favor."
"What do you need?"
"Well, my deafness is a recent condition and I have no equipment with which to make telephone calls," Ezra explained. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would call my superior, Agent Larabee, and inform him of Agent Jackson's imminent arrival at the hospital." He wrote down Chris's cell phone number and handed it to Barclay. "He is likely still at the hospital with the rest of my teammates."
"Larabee, huh?" Barclay mused. "I've heard of him."
Ezra smiled faintly. "Mr. Larabee does have something of a reputation."
"All right," Barclay agreed. "I'll take care of it. We're probably going to have some men out here for another hour or two, so I'll have 'em keep an eye on your place while they're here. You're sure you don't want to go to the hospital with Jackson?"
"No, I fear I will only be in the way."
"Okay," Barclay shrugged. "We'll be in touch if we need anything else."
"Thank you for your assistance," Ezra said, shaking Barclay's hand before trudging wearily up the stairs to his apartment. He knew he should go to the hospital to find out how Nathan was doing, but he couldn't bring himself to face yet another teammate being incarcerated in those sterile confines because of him.
Enough was enough. He was not going to allow any more of his associates to place themselves between him and the madman who was after him. It was his own pathetic-minded fault that he was now deficient in his abilities to defend himself, and there was no point in making them pay the price for that weakness. Their lives – any of their lives – for his would be an unfair trade, and he was going to do what he had to, to make sure that didn't happen. The best way he knew to do that was to simply put some distance between them. If his teammates couldn't find him, then they couldn't take bullets or get hit by cars in his place. That decided, Ezra unlocked his door with shaking hands and entered his darkened apartment, unaware of the single tear making its way down his cheek.
"What?!" Chris jumped up from his seat, roaring into the telephone, an outraged look on his face. "When?"
The rest of his men, brought to attention at his outburst, looked at each other in dread. Something was wrong. Wrong enough to put the angry frown back on Larabee's face – the same frown he had worn when he had received the phone call about the shooting earlier. They sat silently, waiting with trepidation as they listened to the one-sided conversation.
"All right," Chris said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "Thank you, Officer Barclay." He clicked off the phone and dropped his head for a moment, gathering his thoughts before turning to face his men. "They tried again."
Silence reigned for a moment, then all of the men began to speak at once.
Chris finally held up his hand, waiting for them to fall silent before continuing. "Someone tried to run them down outside of Ez's place. Nathan got clipped by the car – they're bringing him in now."
"Ezra?" JD asked tensely.
"The cop that called said he was fine," Chris explained. "Nate managed to push him out of the way."
"Thank God for that," Josiah said, relieved that at least one of his teammates had been spared.
"Shit," JD said. "This is getting ridiculous."
Buck, sitting beside him, let loose a long string of more colorful curses as he beat his fist on the padded vinyl seat beside him.
"Nate's on his way in now," Chris said. "I'm going to go down to the ER to wait for him."
"I'll go with you, brother," Josiah said. "Someone's going to need to keep an eye on Ezra."
"Good idea," Chris agreed.
"Let us know how they're doing," Buck said.
Chris nodded over his shoulder as he and Josiah left the room.
"Damn," Buck said softly, slumping in his chair. "This bastard is definitely persistent."
"He – or they – must have a hell of a grudge against Ez to attack him twice in such a short time," JD mused.
"Yeah," Buck replied. "Wish we could find something on this asshole... before he puts the whole team in the hospital."
"Buck, I could go get my laptop," JD suggested. "I can at least do some poking around while we're sitting here." He shrugged. "Looks like we're in for an even longer night, what with Nathan being here, too."
Buck thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "It couldn't hurt. Besides, you could pick us up some food while you're out. The vending machine crap just ain't gonna cut it."
"Okay," JD said, jumping from his seat with an energy that made Buck feel like an old man. "I won't be too long."
Buck leaned wearily back into his seat, watching the disappearing figure of his roommate as he jogged down the hallway. "Hell of a night," he mumbled quietly.
Cracking the door open slightly, Ezra stole a look outside, assuring himself that no one was watching before slipping quietly out the service entrance. He had packed a bag as soon as he entered his apartment, hoping to be long gone before the inevitable appearance of one or more of his teammates. He wanted to call a cab, but acknowledged the futility of attempting that, given his inability to hear. He also didn't dare take his own car, since Larabee would probably have an APB out on him once his disappearance was discovered. Thus, the best option was to make his escape on foot and acquire transportation later.
Keeping to the shadows, Ezra silently made his way down the street, scanning the area constantly for any sign of surveillance. Eventually, after what seemed like hours of walking, he made his way to a more commercial part of town, smiling in relief at the sight of the glaring neon sign of a Holiday Inn. While it wasn't his first choice of lodging, it was a place that his associates would not think to look for him.
It took some negotiation, and a few extra twenties, but he was finally able to convince the clerk to accept cash instead of a credit card for the next two nights. He shut the door of his room behind him and locked it securely, trudging the few required steps before collapsing wearily on the bed. Ezra lay there for a minute, then reluctantly pushed off the enticing lure of sleep and made his way to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he quickly shed his clothing, pulling on the silk pajamas he had hastily packed. With a sigh, he crawled into the bed, burrowing under the blankets. He was asleep within minutes, too exhausted to even care that the pillows were flat and that the sheets were not as soft as he liked.
Chris watched with a grimace as Nathan was wheeled into the emergency room, a bloody bandage on his head and his left leg immobilized in a large splint. He shared a glance with Josiah, whose face mirrored the same worry he was certain graced his own features. They followed the gurney as the EMT's pushed it down the hallway, but were forced to stop at the treatment room doors by a burly orderly.
"You'll have to wait out here," he said, accustomed to dealing with concerned family and friends. "You'll only be in the way, otherwise."
Chris wanted to argue, but he knew that the man was right. He and Josiah reluctantly moved to the waiting room.
"Hell, I'm damn sick of seeing this room," Chris said, running a weary hand through his hair.
"You and me both," Josiah commiserated.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Chris sat up suddenly and frowned, craning his neck as he searched the waiting room area.
"What is it?" Josiah asked.
"Where's Ezra?"
The two men stared at one another for a moment before jumping to their feet and heading for the doors.
Chris spotted one of the paramedics who had brought Nathan in filling out some paperwork at the admittance desk and changed direction. "Excuse me," he called to the man. "The man you just brought in... was there anyone with him?"
The paramedic looked at him, and shrugged. "Nobody came in with him, if that's what you mean."
"Was there anyone else with him at the scene?"
"There was another guy involved in the accident," the paramedic said with a nod. "But he wasn't injured. Last I saw, he was talking with the cops."
"Thank you, son," Josiah said.
Chris mulled over the information with a frown. "You think he's driving himself here?"
"Maybe," Josiah said. "Perhaps the police wanted to talk to him some more before they let him leave."
"Yeah, that's probably it," Chris said, letting his eyes linger on the doors to the outside.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Josiah said reassuringly.
"I'd feel a lot better if he wasn't alone, though," Chris said with a sigh. "There's been too much shit going down lately and Ez has a knack for ending up right in the middle of it."
Josiah nodded, feeling the first stirrings of concern. "I guess someone ought to check on him."
"I'll go," Chris said, looking apologetically toward the doors to the treatment rooms, where Nathan was still being tended.
"Why don't I go?" Josiah offered, knowing how much Chris wanted to remain for both Nathan and Vin. "No offense, Chris, but you don't always have the patience required to deal with Ezra."
Chris rolled his eyes, but recognized the truth in what Josiah was saying. "He does know how to piss me off," Chris admitted with a wry smile. "But I know you want to be here for Nathan...."
"Don't worry," Josiah said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Nathan will understand. In fact, if he were in our shoes, he'd be the first one to volunteer to drag our wayward brother's sorry ass back in here."
Chris chuckled at the image of a grinning Nathan gleefully dragging the kicking and screaming southerner into the hospital. "Thanks, Josiah. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything about his condition."
TBC