TITLE: Mind Games

AUTHOR: Freeformchick

EMAIL: ares_sd@hotmail.com

MAIN CHARACTERS: JD, Ezra, All Seven, Casey

RATING: PG13

WARNING: violence, profanity, slash

SUMMARY: Ezra and JD are kidnapped and used as pawns in a dangerous game.

DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven don't belong to me, otherwise I'd be doing some unspeakable things with the boys :). They belong to . . . uh . . . whoever they belong to; to tell the truth I don't always pay attention to that part of a TV show. See the other disclaimers; I'm sure they'll tell you who M7 belong to. Also, the ATF universe was created by Mog. I don't know her and have never spoken to her, but she has my undying gratitude for making such a fun universe for the boys.

COMMENTS: any character you don't recognise is probably mine. If you want to archive this, please ask or at least notify me, so I know where my work is going. Also, I am Australian, so my grammar and spelling will reflect that. For example, Chris will be blonde instead of blond, and there will be fewer 'z's.

Chris Larabee stood at the observation window, gazing blindly through the glass. Unconsciously flexing his fists, feeling the deep need to go and pound something until his knuckles bled. He was angry, angry enough to do serious damage to the first person who crossed him. But beneath the anger was another emotion, far less destructive but far more unpleasant.

Fear.

Buck Wilmington and Nathan Jackson lay motionless in the hospital beds, separated from him by the glass. Monitors beeped, nurses entered the room every two minutes to draw blood, check vital signs, all the motions that he could recite by rote. One of the nurses glanced at him sympathetically on her way out, but didn't approach him. He didn't blame her; he was sure he looked angry enough to lash out at anyone who so much as spoke to him.

Bandages swathed Nathan's shoulder and chest, and ugly stitches crossed his left calf, hidden by the blanket but still there. Buck's right arm was in a cast, and bruises discoloured every centimetre of exposed skin. Neither man had woken, and Chris knew that the longer they were unconscious, the worse their chances of recovery were.

Chris was far from uninjured himself, though he'd be damned if he'd admit it. The doctors had pestered him to get his knee checked out, but he refused to allow them to do more than bandage it before he came to the ICU to watch over his partners. The fact that he could barely take a step without his vision swimming was the only thing that kept him here in the hospital instead of out on the streets, where he should be.

He was unable to take action, and infuriated by that fact. He was helpless to aid his two friends who both lay unconscious in the ICU. And he was unable to help Josiah and Vin in their search for the two remaining ATF agents.

The sons-of-bitches who'd put Nathan and Buck in hospital had taken JD and Ezra.

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It had seemed like a routine job. A snitch had given them the time and location of a transaction between a big-time weapons dealer they'd been after for a long time and her supplier. They'd checked out the place, marked in their minds all the areas that ambushes could come from, and had lain in wait themselves. Strategically placed; Chris, Josiah and Buck concealed inside, in perfect sight of the target area but virtually invisible. Vin outside on surveillance; they needed his keen eyes watching in case something went wrong. Nathan with Vin, in case the younger man needed backup in the event of a fight. JD and Ezra in different parts of the warehouse complex, also in sight of the target area but well-hidden, JD with the video camera that would tape the transaction, in case some jumped-up lawyer decided that seven ATF agents weren't telling the truth. All the exits watched.

In the middle of the transaction, one of the hulking men who had accompanied the dealer began to whistle. Incongruously, the tune of _Ode to Joy_ floated through the dead warehouse air. The dealer and supplier ignored him; the other bodyguard shifted and slipped his hand inside his jacket.

"Shit!" Chris hissed. "They're onto us. JD, Ezra, get out of here," he snapped into his radio. "Vin, Nathan, we got a problem. They know we're here."

_"The whistlin'?"_ Vin's voice came back through the radio, obscenely loud.

"It's a signal. Get out of here!"

Gunfire, everywhere. The dealer and her men didn't know where they were, but they seemed to be trying their damnedest to hit something – _anything_ – in the dim warehouse. There was no salvaging this operation; the best they could hope for would be for them all to get out alive and relatively unhurt.

Ricochets were the most danger right now, especially to Vin and Nathan. Vin had chosen his vantage point well for the purpose of surveillance; the roof of the warehouse was cluttered with protrusions, giving him the perfect hiding place. Chris wasn't sure whether the rotting wood and rusted corrugated iron would stop a bullet.

There were only five opponents that they had to face; the dealer and her two bodyguards, and the supplier and his single guard. The trouble was, each bodyguard was at least the size of Josiah, and Chris couldn't be sure of backup. He'd ordered Ezra and JD out, and while their help would be welcome he hoped that for once they'd had the sense to obey his whispered order. Nathan and Vin would have a difficult time getting from the roof with any haste. He, Josiah and Buck were alone, at least for now.

"Nothing for it," Chris muttered, unholstering his pistols. "We've got one thing going for us; they don't know exactly where we are. Let's use that advantage while we can."

They leaped out of hiding, guns blazing. Took the dealer's men by surprise, coming from behind, and dropped one on the spot. Chris could hear a commotion outside and hoped it was just Vin having a disagreement with the harbour-master over whether he could, in fact, enter the old warehouse, but knew that it was more than that. And then his attention was wrenched back to the fight at hand.

The supplier's goon, it seemed, preferred fisticuffs to guns, and was determined to have at least one opponent fight him in his preferred way. Moving with more agility than his size gave him credit for, he'd kicked Buck's weapon from his hands and engaged the agent in a fierce battle, more akin to a barroom brawl than a fight to the death in a dim warehouse.

The dealer's bodyguards were keeping Josiah pinned down with incessant bullets fired into the wall he was sheltered behind. He managed to squeeze off a few shots, but couldn't come to Chris and Buck's aid without being shot. The supplier had vanished, which left the dealer for Chris.

The woman had more talent with a gun than Chris had assumed. Chris was continually force to duck behind bits of rubble, barely keeping ahead of the dealer. Already he sported two grazes from near misses, nearer than he liked. The dealer stalked behind him, firing shots at Chris whenever she so much as glimpsed him.

The commotion outside was still going on, Chris realised vaguely. It had gone on far too long for it to be a simple disagreement between Vin and the harbour-master. He hoped Vin and Nathan were all right, and that was all the thought he could afford to give his friends. It worried him that he still hadn't heard from JD or Ezra, but he had to trust that they could take care of themselves and concentrate on getting himself out of this mess.

"Here, pup," the dealer crooned. "Why're you running? Surely you're not scared of a two-bit dealer like me?"

Chris ignored her and fired a shot, narrowly missing the woman's shoulder. The dealer chuckled and continued forward.

"Silly move, pup. When you're trying to hide, you don't go and make a noise. Just told me where you are, you did."

Her words sent a shiver down Chris's spine. Was the woman trying to sound insane, or was that really how her mind worked? Did she see humans as animals?

_"Chris – taken out – Nathan – hit – "_

Vin's voice echoed through Chris's radio, distorted and broken by static. Chris could hear gunfire and Josiah swearing, could hear the meaty sound of flesh on flesh. Buck screamed in agony. He could hear the dealer's lazy drawl, getting closer.

He fired off another shot, missing the woman in the darkness, sunlight barely making it through the grime-encrusted windows. And then he heard the _click_ that told him he was out of bullets.

"Damn it."

The dealer appeared, much closer than her voice had seemed. She smiled.

"Hey there, pup. Teeth been pulled, I see."

Holding her own gun trained on Chris, the dealer approached. She was a medium-sized woman, no match for Josiah or Buck unless her physical strength was as surprising as her prowess with her gun. Well-dressed – Ezra would approve, Chris thought wryly. Ezra might see some sense of twisted justice, being cut down by an opponent with fashion sense, at least. Chris felt nothing but anger at an empty death, and regret that he wouldn't be able to help his team.

The dealer was within arms reach now. Chris prepared for the bullet that would end his life.

It didn't come. Fast as lightning, the dealer lashed out with a sharp kick to Chris's right knee. The snap and sickening crunch preceded a wave of shocking pain that forced the blonde agent to the floor, gasping in pain. He looked up at the woman with vision swimming from pain.

The dealer smiled again and lifted her gun in a kind of salute. "You lead a good hunt," she said. She raised her voice. "Boys, I reckon Samuels is waiting for us. You want to finish up there?"

She knelt next to Chris and caressed his face with the still-hot muzzle of her gun, drawing a hiss as the overheated metal burned his skin. "Let me tell you something, pup. If it was up to me, I'd kill you here and now." She dug her fingers into Chris's damaged knee, eliciting a strangled cry of pain. "Knee like that, it's not worth keeping a hound alive. The dog just suffers needlessly. But Samuels, he wants to play a game. And he pays well enough that I'll play by his rules, for now at least."

"What game?" Chris forced the words through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the fire in his knee. The dealer grinned.

"You ever seen foxhounds at work? They follow a scent admirably. Always wanted a foxhound, myself. A dog like that can find whatever it's set on, as long as it knows what its prey smells like."

She stroked Chris's face with the gun again, her free hand keeping enough pressure on Chris's knee that the ATF agent was in no position to fight her.

"Samuels fancies a game. We'll give you the scent, once you get your men taken care of. And you, like the good little foxhound, follow the scent – if you can."

She stood and began to walk away. Chris mastered the pain long enough to ask, "What are you talking about?"

The woman turned slightly, enough for Chris to see the sadistic smile on her face.

"Think about it. You'll know what I mean soon enough. It's strange you haven't already, though; a hound always knows, when he doesn't hear the howling of his packmates, that they're missing."

She moved off into the dimness, calling for the bodyguards. Chris dragged himself to his feet and tried to put weight on his damaged knee. His leg buckled and he collapsed with a crash, sending dust flying like a miniature mushroom cloud.

"Josiah? Buck?"

"Comin', Chris. You injured?"

Chris almost wept with relief at hearing Josiah's voice. "Yeah, I am, kinda. You? And Buck?"

Josiah's answer was terse and concerned. "I'm okay; a couple grazes, that's it. I'm worried about Buck; he's unconscious. Beat as all hell, and I think his arm's broken. That goon knew what he was doing. Can't say for sure, though; Nathan knows more about this than I do."

Josiah's voice had gradually come closer as he spoke, and at his last words he appeared to Chris's right. He took one look at Chris's damaged knee and swore.

"Damn, Chris! That's gotta hurt like hell."

"It's slightly uncomfortable, yes. Get outside and see if Nathan and Vin are okay, then call an ambulance for Buck. Check on Ezra and JD, too . . ." Chris trailed off as the dealer's words registered.

_"A hound always knows, when he doesn't hear the howling of his packmates, that they're missing."_

"Shit! Josiah, they've got JD and Ezra!"

"How do you figure that?" Josiah's voice was alarmed, and he stopped in his tracks, looking back at Chris.

"The dealer – she said something about a game. Said she was gonna give us the scent, and we'd have to follow it . . . damn it, Josiah, they're gonna make us play some twisted game using JD and Ezra as bait! I should have known it was all a set-up!"

"How were you supposed to know that?" Josiah asked, keeping his voice level and calm. "We were all suckered by this, Chris, and it's no use blaming yourself. You can't walk on that knee, so I'm going to do what you said, check on Vin and Nathan, and call an ambulance for you and Buck."

He held up a hand, stilling Chris's protests. "And yes, you are going to the hospital. I may not have Nathan's expertise, but even I can tell that knee is dislocated, possibly broken. I'll personally track down the bastards who took JD and Ezra – if they _did_ take JD and Ezra – and tear them new breathing holes."

His voice was still perfectly calm, and the threat seemed out of place. Chris blinked, and by the time he'd gathered his senses Josiah was gone.

"Goddamnit."

He hoped he was wrong, that the dealer had just been screwing with his mind. But if they didn't have something else planned, why let him and Josiah live? Why just mangle Chris's knee when the dealer could have shot him dead where he stood?

No, as optimistic as Josiah had tried to be, Chris knew that his fears were true. The dealer – and probably the supplier as well, he realised with a sinking heart – had two of his agents at their mercy.

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Vin and Josiah returned to the hospital late in the afternoon, having lost the trail deep in the city. Chris was still standing outside the ICU, gazing at Buck and Nathan. Buck's obvious damage was less extensive than Nathan's; other than bruises, all he really had to show for his fight was a broken arm, whereas doctors had had to dig bullets out of Nathan's shoulder, chest and calf. Buck had internal injuries, however, that could still result in complications. The doctors were still worried about both men and had them under constant surveillance, instructing each changing shift to inform them as soon as Nathan and Buck awoke.

Nathan and Vin had been set upon by six armed men outside the warehouse, yet Vin was sure the men hadn't been trying to kill them. If their attempts had been serious, both he and Nathan would be dead. And he had escaped with nothing more than a wrenched shoulder that was already feeling better thanks to some heavy-duty painkillers that the doctor who had examined him had prescribed. That didn't help the pain he felt elsewhere, pain that had nothing to do with injuries. He was scared for JD and Ezra, sure, but there was a deeper fear involved: the fear that he was going to lose the man he loved without confessing that love.

_'Damn it! Why did I have to wait so damned long? Why did I have to be such a coward with my own feelings?'_

Chris turned and looked at Josiah and Vin. "Nothing?"

Vin shook his head. "There's no trace of them. It looks as though we're gonna have to wait until they're ready to contact us."

"Damn it. How the hell were JD and Ezra taken so damn fast?"

Vin held up a small dart. "Tranqs. I found this where Ezra was supposed to be, an' there were signs of a struggle in JD's area." He hesitated, unsure as to whether he wanted to tell Chris the worst news.

Chris noticed his hesitation. "Spit it out, Vin. What else did you find?"

"Blood," Vin said reluctantly. "Not a lot of it. But it was there."

Chris closed his eyes for a moment, then asked, "JD or Ezra?"

"We don't know for sure it was either of them. It could be their abductors' blood."

"Don't bullshit me, Vin. You know its theirs. Now, tell me: JD or Ezra?"

Vin sighed. Neither option was good, and he hated having to be the one to tell Chris.

"JD. If it was one of them, it was JD's blood."

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To be continued