Called Up
An ATF/AU
By: Tidia
Beta/Fluffer (because she added to this to make it so much better, but is too humble to be a co-author): Mog (or mogue): A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably.
Warnings: Swearing. They are men involved in law enforcement. I'm leaving it at that.
Disclaimer: Magnificent 7 does not belong to me and must give credit to MOG for creating the ATF- it is still shiny.
Part 2
Ezra rode the elevator up after lunch. His time with Lewis from accounting hadn't generated any useful information but he always enjoyed the man's company. The southerner had always realized that Chris was the Special Agent-in-Charge, and handled administrative duties such as budgeting, but Agent Larabee lacked finesse.
Ezra had worked hard to engineer that the Federal government paid for a portion of his suits, ties, and shoes. They were needed in his line of work; it was perfectly reasonable. He needed to insure that his expense reports did not get extra scrutiny. If acquaintances around the office could help with that, so be it.
He had made connections throughout the Federal building. Where Buck concentrated on the fairer sex, Ezra paid attention to those in decision-making capacities. He also listened to the office gossip—they all did, since it seemed too often they were at the center of it. Most of the time they had to stop erroneous rumors, but occasionally they had fun fueling them to create a mystique. Mother always said he had a head for public relations.
As the doors opened on the 11th floor he overheard the conversation of two people exiting the second elevator from a higher floor. He recognized the man and woman as employees of the ATF. Their capacity, however, was not one he had ever required, and neither was it one that had influence or bearing on him or his team. Their current conversation, however, secured his attention.
"Larabee just barged into Travis's office and hung up his phone." The man explained. "He was talking to the deputy secretary."
The woman interrupted. "What did Travis do?"
A low whistle was the first answer. "I gotta give the judge credit. He just asked what the problem was."
"So what was the problem?" The woman clearly lacked patience.
"Door got shut. Whatever it was, it must be big."
Ezra immediately turned around and punched the button to call an elevator to go up. He had business on the 14th floor.
…
Orin and Chris were still inside the ex-judge's office. Luckily for Ezra, Assistant Director Travis enjoyed light and rarely closed the blinds of the office window that faced the rest of the floor.
"How are you, Angela?" Ezra greeted Orin's longtime secretary. He glanced at her scarf, and its distinctive orange and cream colors. "That is a lovely Hermes. New York?" He knew she had been to Manhattan recently, visiting her son.
"Yes," she answered. "That is a very dangerous place for people like us." The two of them shared a love of fine clothes. "Would you like for me to interrupt them, Agent Standish?"
Ezra cast a look to his left, toward the office, and raised his brows. There was a heated exchange going on, and he was not ready to jump in just yet. "I believe I will wait awhile. It isn't a pressing matter."
"It never is," Angela replied and Ezra, not for the first time, wondered what Angela knew.
He took a seat, keeping his focus on the conversation in the office and trying to stay inconspicuous by keeping a magazine on his lap. Ezra was a man of many talents, and one of those was a minor gift for lip reading. He was by no means an expert, but he was good enough to make sense of a conversation.
His focus intensified when he interpreted Chris's words. Vin is not a tool. Mention of the Rangers and then two words that didn't seem to go together. "Angela? What does it mean when someone is called up?"
Angela answered without looking away from her monitor. "Some former soldiers are being recalled because there's a need for personnel." The woman was a wealth of information.
"Right." A second later the meaning truly hit home for Ezra. "Oh." Chris's behavior became clear.
"You'll be going in now." Angela made it a statement, not a question.
Ezra nodded, squared his shoulders and walked the twelve feet with determined steps. He knocked on the door; Orin was behind his desk and seemed to sigh. With one hand, he gestured for Ezra to enter.
"Damn it, Standish," Chris stated. "This is a private conversation," The glare sent an all too clear message that said—get the fuck out.
"About Agent Tanner returning to military service…." Ezra revealed the not-so-secret conversation. He relaxed into one of the small, overstuffed chairs. "I believe I can be of assistance."
Orin replied with a glance to the phone. "We've already called the Defense Department to alert them of the error." The former judge was a patient man, especially when dealing with Team 7. "We're waiting for confirmation."
Ezra wanted to tread carefully so as to not alienate Assistant Director Travis. "Yes, well, just in case it's not a mistake, what is your next course of action?"
"We haven't gotten that far." Chris crossed his arms and directed his glare at Orin. Ezra had hit on a nerve.
Ezra directed his next question to Orin. "Sir, do you believe an error has been made?"
The Assistant Director never hid behind subterfuge. "No. I think they knew exactly what they were doing."
Ezra looked at Chris. "Then, I believe I know someone who may be of assistance."
Chris deflated somewhat, dropping into the other burgundy-colored chair. "And that would be?"
"My stepfather."
"Which one?" Chris asked with a smirk. The team begrudgingly found themselves liking Maude, but could not understand her lifestyle with its numerous husbands.
"Well, it's only the latter ones that I formed an attachment to." In the beginning, Ezra wanted his stepfathers to be actual fathers, but they never lived up to that potential. He then figured they would never be his father, whoever that may be, and started to see their potential as friends and contacts.
"Bud is a very large contract holder for the Department of Defense. He knows people. I believe he could be helpful." Ezra kept tabs on his former stepfathers, remembering birthdays and holidays with a good scotch, bourbon or fine wine. Ezra gestured to the phone, and Orin nodded.
"Please, be my guest."
"Thank you, sir," Ezra replied and dialed Bud's direct line. Chris's patience was clearly running thin, and Ezra hurried through the pleasantries after Chris made a winding gesture with one finger.
In the meantime, Angela delivered a message. Orin had received a phone call back from his contact, who confirmed that no mistake had been made, but he would see what he could do with the situation. Ezra relayed the information from his own call. "He'll do the best he can and call back as soon as possible."
Chris didn't hide his less-than-positive attitude. "We'll see when, and if, he comes through."
"Ah, yes, the wet blanket I was expecting," Ezra muttered. Chris's irritation with the situation exhibited itself through general impatience. "Perhaps, Director Travis would like his office returned to him?"
Orin rolled back in his office chair. "I believe Angela is holding all my calls until we settle this matter; and hopefully that's within the next forty-five minutes before both Chris and I are due in a meeting. If not, Agent Standish, you will man the phones, so to speak?"
As soon as the words were out of Orin's mouth, Ezra pictured himself as Assistant Director. He had never really thought that far in the future, a part of him didn't even know if he would always remain in law enforcement. But that decision was for later. Right now, he had a home and friends and he was happy with that.
"Ezra?"
"Yes, sir. I would be happy to." As if on cue, the phone rang. "But, it may not be necessary."
The phone's display told Orin what he needed to know and he answered the call by pressing a single button. "David, I hope you don't mind, I have you on speaker phone."
"No, that's fine. Orin, you're pulling out the big guns. Bud Williams? He has the Secretary's ear."
"And what's the decision? We want Agent Tanner to stay put. He's needed here as a valuable member of a team that's making a difference. Is the consensus up there that overseas terrorism is more important than what's on our shores? This team has its nickname for a reason." He knew David was aware of the group's moniker.
"I know how valuable the man is. His record is exemplary, which is why his expertise is needed by the military. However, I do have a counteroffer that may work for all of us."
Chris retorted with a growl in his voice. "You're talking about a person, not an asset."
"That is Chris Larabee," Orin explained, "Special Agent In Charge and Vin's superior. You can understand his concern. It's my concern, too. These are my boys."
"I'm sorry if I sounded callous, Orin. Let me explain…."
When the conversation ended, it was clear that they got the best deal they could from the Department of Defense. Ezra knew that Vin was a skilled marksman, but evidently as an Army Ranger he was quite the commodity, and missed.
Chris checked his watch and caught Orin's eye. "Sir, if you don't mind-"
The AD cut him off. "You should have just enough time to deliver the news to your boys before our meeting."
The agents said their thank-you's and made a quick exit. They took the stairwell down the three flights and wound their way past the administrative desks to the Team 7 area. "Conference room," Chris announced. "Now."
The team exchanged glances, unsure of what warranted the impromptu meet. Vin raised his brows towards Ezra who responded with a slight nod. They shuffled into the small room, taking their usual seats.
Vin leaned forward on the table and uncharacteristically spoke before Chris. "I reckon this is about me…long story, short, ya'll should know the Army recalled me to serve out the rest of my contract."
No one spoke. It was as if they were trying to process what they had just heard.
Nathan shifted forward in his seat. "What does that mean exactly?"
"It means that I go back to the Rangers for two years."
"I don't get this," JD said. "What do you mean 'go back'? Like, they're going to send you to Afghanistan? What about the ATF?" He glanced at the other men, as if willing them to speak up. "Does the Judge know about this? Or the directors?"
Ezra looked at Chris who took mercy. "They do now. We came up with something. I think I'll let Ezra explain since he's the one who pulled some strings."
"I called one of my stepfathers," the southerner said, "he called some people. Vin will still have to serve, but it will be working for the Department of Defense for six months as an agency loan." Ezra wasn't completely happy. It was far better than two years, but the team needed Vin. He needed Vin. When he was undercover, it was indescribably reassuring to know he could trust the man in the rafters, as they called it. Vin wouldn't just do the job, he would go above and beyond it.
"He really worked this one for you," Chris said, nodding to Ezra. "Got you above the standard for hazard and combat pay and you don't have to cut your hair."
Ezra sat up straighter at the praise he had received. People would usually say he had an angle for doing what he did, but this was a case where he was part of a team. It had taken time for him to let down his guard, to allow them in, and appreciate Team 7.
"Above standard and you keep the hair?" Buck asked. "You serious?"
"Well," Ezra explained, "a certain appearance is needed for Mister Tanner's undercover work. And going to a warzone is hazardous; he should receive reparations for that."
He noticed Vin absently run a hand through his hair. When Ezra first started with the ATF, one of his assignments involved him and Vin going undercover for three months. Ezra grew to appreciate the Texan's laid back personality and "relax, we'll get it done" attitude. He had also managed to convince Tanner of the benefits of hair product. Since then, it had been a rewarding give-and-take friendship.
"I don't want ya'll to think that I wasn't willing to serve and do my time," Vin said, looking at Chris and Ezra, "but, I appreciate what you did."
"Wish we could have done more." Chris leaned back in his chair.
"Guess Junior's talents make him popular," Buck added. "When do you leave?"
"New Year's Day," Ezra answered. "It's a shorter stint, so they claimed he was needed sooner rather than later."
"Damn," Buck said, throwing his hands in the air. "That's while I'm on vacation. Now I'll have to bump it out."
"Bucklin, you don't have to change your plans on my account. I'll see you in six months."
"Hell no. You're going to have a big sendoff and I can't trust any of them to come through." Buck motioned to the rest of the team with a vague wave of his hand.
"'Course not," Ezra commented. "Without you we might actually have a tasteful event…rather than one involving a keg and inflatable women."
Josiah interrupted the insults. "The deal is iron clad? Not that I don't trust the U.S. government…."
"Orin's getting it in writing as we speak." Chris looked at his watch. "And I have a meeting to get to while you all need to get back to work."
"Shall I step in for Director Travis while he's at the meeting?" Ezra asked. He contemplated the changes he could make during the meeting—the first being a larger expense account, which would include an agency BMW so he wouldn't have to risk his Jaguar.
"I'm sure Angela can manage," Chris replied. "And I think you should learn to spend some time at your desk instead of kissing up to accounting and finance—what do you think?"
"Desk it is, then," Ezra said. He wondered how a man who seemed so aloof could be aware of so much.
…
Buck would miss the quiet sharpshooter, but he thought JD would miss him more. As JD often said, he and Vin were the youngest—there were things the older agents just didn't understand. JD was engrossed, typing away on his computer, until finally the printer hummed. He bounced from his chair to retrieve his prize and brought the paper to Vin's desk.
"Hey, I set you up with a Hotmail account. You should have internet access from time to time and it's a free account, but I was stuck on what you should use as a name because you shouldn't use yours because of your line of work so I went with vtm7. Cool, right? And short, so it's easy to remember. I wrote down your password too, L0$Lob0$, it's Los Lobos but the first and last o's are zeros…and the s'es are dollar signs…and it's cap sensitive. But you can change it, you should change it. Definitely change it after a couple of months. And I added in all of our email addys, too. What do you think?"
Vin only blinked several times in response to JD's fast-paced monologue. Buck had long ago noticed that JD only spoke that fast when he was nervous.
"Kid, I don't think Vin understood much of what you said, and it has nothing to do with the accent."
JD rolled his eyes. "Not for nothing, Buck, but I don't have an accent."
Buck chuckled. The Boston accent was there, even if JD didn't want to own up to it. He didn't sound like a Kennedy, but there were some words that were just off. "Right, that's why that girl at the coffee shop wanted to know what country you where from."
Ezra, whose desk was head-to-head with Vin's, looked up from his computer. "JD, are you going to be like this for six months? Because, if so, I will have to ask Agent Jackson for some tranquilizers."
"For JD or us?" Josiah asked, looking over his reading glasses.
"I can do both," Nathan offered.
"Ha," JD said, flatly. "It's just that Vin gets to do something." He still greatly felt the loss of his college friend who had been in the South Tower. After the funeral, he had wondered if he should take a job more on the line, helping the NSA or joining the Army to work Intelligence.
Buck and Chris had independently worked to convince JD that he was needed with the ATF. When the two old friends had talked about it, they knew their motivations were basically selfish—neither wanted to risk losing the young man. They saw a lot of themselves in him; it was for JD's own good. The team protected him somewhat, allowing him to mature, and he wouldn't find that in another place. So rather than go for the higher profile position, JD threw himself into being the best ATF agent he could.
Vin tried to combat the look in his friend's eyes. "I don't get to do much, JD. I have to follow orders. If it's to go after Al Qaeda, then that's what it is. But it might not be. It might not have anything to do with the bombings. At least here with the team you know what's going on."
"Plus," Josiah added. "Vin's going to need care packages, and you're the one with the connections to the mail room. How else can we get bottles of whiskey over to him?" He winked at Vin.
The Texan smiled but seemed a little taken aback. "Thanks, Josiah. Was never one to get mail before."
"Don't expect it to be all Twinkies and Little Debbies in there," Nathan interrupted, pointing to the chocolaty snack that was on Vin's desk, waiting to be eaten.
JD hitched his hip onto the edge of Vin's desk. "That connection is just because I got Robi a pre-release of a game from a friend at Microsoft." He laid out the paper with his notes. "Let me show you what I did so you can stay in touch with us."
Vin took in what JD had arranged for him and the younger man openly appreciated his friend's willingness to use technology. JD returned to his desk and his gears were still turning. "I wonder if you could hack a satellite link for a BlackBerry?"
Buck grabbed his coffee mug and stood. "I'm not hearing this. Anybody need a refill?"
The only yes came from Vin. "Yeah, but I'll come with."
In the break room, Vin poured a cup from his own pot. "Bucklin, you're gonna miss this when I'm gone."
"A bad cup of coffee? Hell, Junior, I figure if I get a hankering I'll just add some turpentine and it'll be like old times." Buck made a cross shape with his fore fingers and pointed it at Vin's carafe before backing away toward the other coffee maker. "Does Nathan have you worried? 'cause me and JD will make sure you're kept flush in Twinkies and Little Debbies." He smiled and shook his head as he refilled his mug. "I can't turn down a snack that's named after a woman—Betty Crocker, Aunt Jemima, Mrs. Fields-"
"Hey," Vin interrupted, "Mrs. Fields is a married woman." He leaned a hip against the counter. "You think he's going to be okay?" It was understood that he meant JD. "You're going to have to watch over them for me."
Buck knew he was referring to the others, but especially Chris. "You can count on me. And don't worry about JD and Chris. You just take care of yourself." Buck took a sip, looking over his mug. "They won't be thinking about missing you, what with the bash that I'll be throwing you…they'll have a hangover for the six months it takes you to get back."
…
Denver International Airport
True to Buck's word, come New Year's Day, 2002, Vin was nursing a hangover that he thought would take him six months to recover from. There was not enough black coffee, Tylenol or Sausage McMuffins to take away his misery of the early morning flight to D.C.
Because of the seven a.m. flight it had been an all-night party, ringing in the new year with Chris doing the honors of bringing him to the airport. The only Godsend about a flight that early was having to get to the airport at five a.m., thus avoiding any sunlight.
They sat in Chris's truck, watching the handful of employees and travelers mill about the sidewalk in front of the United terminal entrance.
"Thanks for the ride." It took Vin a second before he realized that with that one statement he was thanking Chris for his time at the ATF, too. His friend seemed to understand and they shared a smile.
"I'm planning on seeing you in six months in one piece," Chris said. The lack of sleep and cigar smoking from the night before made his voice deep and rough. "Don't make me come over there to get you."
Vin snorted, the sound sharpening his headache. He imagined Chris taking the team on a field trip to the desert. "You may find this hard to believe, but before I met up with y'all I wasn't so accident prone."
Chris kept his focus forward but nodded. "I do find that hard to believe."
Vin patted the pocket containing the cigars that Nathan had given him. The medic had extracted a promise from Vin to hold onto one cigar to smoke when he got back.
Josiah, on the other hand had given him a prayer card with Psalm 23, which Vin was only familiar with from funerals. It was tucked next to the cigars as a counterpoint. His mind played back scenes from the party.
"You tryin' to tell me somethin', 'Siah?" he asked, as he looked at the small laminated card that his friend had just given him.
"You keep this with you. It's not about death. It's about God being with you." Josiah pulled him in for a hug while patting him on the back with increasingly jarring force. A Josiah with a lot of alcohol in him clearly forgot his own strength.
"You know," Vin wheezed, extricating himself from the tight hug. "I'm not one to say special prayers." He would admit that he called on God from time to time, but nothing formal. He treated it as a conversation.
"I know. It will make me feel better. And if something happens…do not go towards the light. You stay rooted to this earth. You hear me?" Despite Josiah's heavy-lidded eyes, he held Vin's gaze.
"I do." Vin nodded. "Light is bad."
"Exactly," Josiah patted him one last time on the back and grabbed his beer bottle to raise in toast.
Vin thought he may be nursing some bruises from Josiah being overzealous, and rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks. "Any parting words or gifts?"
"I had to listen to JD tell that joke about the hamster," Chris replied. "Three times." He popped off his seatbelt. "It's not funny. The gift you got was no bloodshed at your party."
"Fair enough," Vin said. He knew he was stalling. Like so many times over the last few weeks, he wanted to drink in this moment so it would carry him and ground him. Being an ATF agent had become his new normal; he was out of practice with the old Ranger Tanner and didn't know how Defense Department Tanner would be. More images from the party sprang to mind. "I think we should get Ez drunk more often."
Chris grinned and shook his head, then winced at the pain even the small movement generated.
A Denver police officer approached the passenger side window and Vin lowered it.
"You're gonna need to keep moving. No standing."
Chris cut off any other rules the man might have explained by leaning forward across Vin, flashing his badge, and nodding toward his friend. "It's all right, Officer. We're dropping off for overseas."
The man's eyes scanned the backseat, where Vin's old military duffle bag and rifle case were. A second later it was clear that he suddenly understood what Chris meant. His emotion registered with raised brows and he took a quick look up and down the sidewalk. "Take your time." He looked at Vin. "And thanks. Good luck over there."
Vin just nodded his own thanks as Chris verbalized. "Appreciate it, Officer."
They watched the man continue his patrol, and sat in silence for a moment. Chris gave a quick glance to the digital clock in the Ram then looked at his partner. "Six months. No volunteering for extended duty, no taking on any wayward kids. Six months, ya got me, Tanner?"
Vin gave a curt nod. His friend knew him well, but he had something to come back to this time. It hadn't been like that when he was last in the Rangers. "Left my papers on your desk." He had given Chris a copy of his health proxy, will and a power of attorney.
"I'll keep them safe. Can't guarantee that I can keep an eye on your checkbook though."
Vin suppressed a smile. He had given Ezra control of his finances. "I trust him. 'Sides, I told him if he bounced my rent checks I'd be moving in with him."
Chris smiled at the mental image that produced. A second later, he sobered, looked away and opened the door of the Ram, which prompted a repeated chime until he pulled the keys out of the ignition.
Vin slid out the other side, retrieved his gear and waited until Chris came around. "Thanks for taking me on, Cowboy." With the rifle case slung across his back and his duffle bag over one shoulder Vin felt like he was doing nothing more than going away for a week camping. He reached out and grasped Chris's forearm, which was returned.
"You watch yourself," Chris stated, releasing the grip.
"I'll see ya." Vin hitched the duffle higher on his shoulder and made his way into the airport.
...
TBC