Dissecting The Toad
(ATF)

by Brandgwen

Disclaimer: The guys belong to Mirisch, etc., the universe belongs to Mog, "Addicted to Bass" belongs to Daemion/Abrahams (copyright 1998 Prozaac Recordings) and "Into Temptation" belongs to Neil Finn (copyright 1996 Capitol Records). All characters, with the exception of the Seven, are of my own creation; any resemblance to persons, real or fictional, is entirely coincidental. I'm not making money, I'm not worth suing.
Author's Note: This fanfic is the second in the Deep Cover series.

Standish

JD had walked only two steps inside the interview room, when his eyes and throat were accosted by smoke. "Jesus, Ezra!" he spluttered, spilling the stack of files he carried across the floor.

"Agent Dunne," came the composed reply. Ezra sat, lazily, at the interview table, facing he door. In his hand was a half-smoked cigarette. On the table were the stubs of six more. Obviously, Standish had kept himself busy while waiting for him. The thick air reminded JD of some of the seedier bars Buck had introduced him to.

Irritated, JD rapped the no smoking sign with his knuckle and scooped up the pile of paper. "Since when do you smoke, anyway, Ez?"

Ezra grinned and took another puff, apparently amused by JD's reaction. Suddenly, though, as if catching himself in a moment of weakness, his smile faded. "Ezra doesn't smoke. Alex does," tiredness passed across his eyes, adding years to his normally child like face.

"Fine," muttered JD, putting the sheets of paper in order, "whatever."

Ezra stood and began pacing around the room, his free hand jammed in his trouser pocket. His whole manner seemed somewhat closed off and protected, as if he were the only warm thing in a very cold room - or perhaps the only cold thing in a very warm room. His face was clean shaven and his clothing well tailored, but JD knew this was on account of the cocktail party. Otherwise, Ezra had been sporting cheep suits and a three day growth. JD had never seen Ezra's hair so long, he wondered if it had been cut, at all, since the undercover had assumed his current guise. It could easily have been tied back in an elastic band, but now hung around the agent's face and in his eyes, thin and lank.

JD sat down and the interview table. He waited a few moments for Ezra to join him, then, realising this was not going to happen, reached with his foot under the table and kicked the opposite chair out. "Sit down, Ezra, we've gotta get through this before the others are finished with the suspects."

Ezra sat on the edge of his chair and watched JD sort through the pile of evidence he had brought with him. JD would pull out a sheet of paper from the folder and show it to Ezra, who would fill in the details of how it had been obtained and what it meant. Occasionally, JD would bring Ezra up to speed on any further analysis that had been performed on the information. Bit by bit, they pieced together the past six months.

Overall, Ezra seemed to have a fairly good understanding of what had been going on within the company. Very little of the new information JD brought into the discussion came as a surprise to him. That was, until they came to the encrypted files Ezra had sent from Cassandra Jameson's computer hard drive. Viewing them, Ezra frowned.

"What's up, Ez?" asked JD, wearily. It had been almost an hour and, while undoubtedly important, debriefing Ezra was dull.

Standish shook his head. "I had no idea how involved she was in this," he poured over one file in particular, "she mentions at least three of their clients here, by name."

"So?"

"So she must have had fairly direct dealings with them. Maybe even one-to-one contact..."

Ezra's face became inscrutable. After years of knowing the man, JD recognised this as a look the undercover adopted when he didn't want his thoughts read. JD took a stab at it, anyway, "You didn't know about that."

Ezra glanced up, then replied, off handedly, "No matter, I do, now."

JD sighed. If the other man didn't want to talk, there was very little point pressing it. Instead, JD changed the subject. "Okay, Ezra, I'll bite. What's with the accent?"

Standish looked up at his interviewer, as if taken off guard by the question. He had thought the reasons behind his maintaining the northern accent obvious. "Didn't they tell you?" he asked, studying JD's face, "I'm to resume my cover after tonight. This isn't over."

JD shrugged. "Sure I knew. I just thought this would be a chance to relax a bit - be yourself."

Ezra snorted, derisively, but didn't answer. The two sat in silence for a moment. JD checked his watch.

"I wonder if the others are finished," JD mumbled.

Standish smiled, dully. "I imagine you would have liked to sit in on one of their interviews. Learn a few tricks of the trade."

Dunne growled, "It's not like I've never interviewed anyone before, you know? I guess this case is just too important to risk me screwing it up."

"You think that's why you're here? So you can't screw up?"

JD narrowed his eyes, slightly. He didn't like behaving like this. He knew he should just be a professional and accept whatever task he was assigned, but it was late and Ezra was being a pain in the arse, so JD allowed himself the luxury of petulance. "How am I supposed to learn anything, if they keep coddling me? I mean, this whole debriefing thing would have been much simpler, if Chris had just come in and done it, himself, you know?"

Ezra shook his head, pulling his chair closer to the table and lowering his voice. "I'll let you in on a secret, JD. The reason Chris Larabee isn't here has nothing to do with you. It's me."

JD raised an eyebrow. He knew Ezra and Chris didn't always get along, but Larabee had been worried about his operative for months, now. Why wouldn't he want to check on him?

"I'll explain," said Ezra, reading the agent's expression, "you see, I've been gone a while. During that time, Agent Larabee has had no means by which to monitor my every movement. This makes him uncomfortable. He suspects there are details about the last six months he doesn't want to know about."

JD looked up from the table into Ezra's face. For the first time in that night, Ezra seemed to be fully focused on the man across from him. His carefully maintained northern accent had faltered, revealing a slight southern tilt. JD got the feeling this was the first time the undercover really wanted to communicated anything. It was as if he needed JD to understand. "What are you talking about? Ezra are you in trouble?"

Standish didn't answer, but sat, regarding his opposite.

"Ezra, what's going on? What have you done?" JD was beginning to panic, now. He cast his mind back over the interview, trying to think of something, anything, which might give him a clue as to what was troubling the undercover. "Who is Cassandra Jameson? What have you done?"

Ezra smiled, as if JD had made a phenomenal connection. "It doesn't matter, don't you see? We all screw up; it's the nature of the job. Remember that when this all comes out. The only thing that matters is that Larabee doesn't know. Why are you here? To make sure that whatever happened while I was absent remains absent."

A little breathless, JD watched Standish light another cigarette. "Ezra, what are you..."

The interviewee interrupted him, "I expect your superior will be ready for you by now."

The smoky air of the interview room seemed to cling to JD as he walked out into the hall. A little light headed, he didn't even notice Chris standing by the door waiting for him.

"JD?" the question was sharp, breaking through the younger man's daze.

"Yeah, hi Chris," JD struggled to regain composure in front of his boss's stare.

"Anything we can use?"

JD noticed the way Chris had posed the question. No 'anything unusual?', nor 'anything of interest?'. He only wanted to hear what he could use. JD frowned. Larabee knew his men inside out. Even when he didn't like what he saw, he never looked the other way. That's what made him such a good leader. He didn't just forgive flaws, he understood and could anticipate them. "No. Nothing. He'd already passed on everything he knew."

Larabee nodded. "Well, I think you'll both be glad to know that one of the suspects rolled over. The undercover operation stops here."

A wave of relief washed over JD. The cold, hard rock of anxiety, which a settled in his stomach during the interview, began to shrink. "That's great Chris. I'll go tell him."

Larabee nodded and began to walk back down the corridor. Dunne watched him, then, no longer able to restrain himself, asked the question weighing on his mind. "You know, don't you? All this stuff that's been so carefully hidden from you, you know."

Larabee stopped and turned back. "I have an idea. Off the record, of course, but I know Standish and I know these situations."

JD absorbed this. "But you're not gonna do anything? Whatever he did, you don't care?"

Chris shook his head. "Of course I care. I can't have my men bending and breaking rules whenever it suits them, but if any of this gets caught up in the official channels, he'll be out. For good." Larabee's voice softened a little, as he took in the kid's worried features. "Undercover is a tricky business, JD. You walk into an unknown situation and make friends by lying. It takes a certain..." Larabee searched for the right phrase, "moral flexibility."

"So?"

"So, if you spend six months exercising moral flexibility, you get good at it. Standish was put in a position he couldn't deal with. I knew that then, I know it now. I also know that it will never happen again."

JD returned to the interview room, to find Ezra pacing, again. The coldness he had assumed before the interview had been reinstated. "Something else, Agent Dunne?"

"It's okay, Ez. You don't have to go back."

Ezra nodded. JD left the room. As he began down the corridor, JD glanced through the one way window, which separated him from his fellow agent. To his amazement, the coldness had evaporated.

A relieved Ezra Standish leant his back against the wall, his hands over his face and slid to the floor, in an exhausted heap.