Hours later the six remaining members of team 7 sat quietly in the conference room. The TV was on in the corner, reporting on the FBI raid that had rescued 8 girls being held hostage in what appeared to be an international slavery ring. Additional footage saw Jacob Anderson, local businessman and community leader, being escorted in handcuffs out of his offices. The volume was turned low, as they'd heard the report several times now.

"Ezra won't even get acknowledged, will he?" JD asked. "He'll never get credit for what he did."

"Wouldn't want it." Buck answered. "For all his show and his flash, he'd never want that kind of attention. He'd say he was just doin' his job, and you don't seek credit for that."

"Still don't make it right."

"No," Josiah agreed. "It doesn't. But it does make if very Ezra-like. Much more under the surface than anyone else would ever see."

Chris walked over to the window, quietly moving beside the man already standing there.

"You're awful quiet Vin. Don't think I've heard a word out of you since…" he left the rest hanging.

"Not too much needs to be said."

"Still."

"Chris – I don't need to talk about anything right now. Just need to find him. Ain't right he's just left out there. Just need to find him, then I'll worry about the rest."

Not knowing what else there was to add, Larabee rested a hand on the younger agent's shoulder.

"We're gonna bring him home Vin. Nothing else happens until we get him back."

Nathan spoke from the far side of the room. "Anybody know where his mother is?"

"Somewhere in Europe I think." Buck answered. "She's with a count or something last time he said anything. Course, that does mean it's where she is now. Probably something in his emails, maybe at the condo. I can go take a look for info."

JD looked up surprised. "Come on Buck – you know Ezra will be pissed if you go through – "he stopped, realizing what he was saying, and his face fell. "Shit." Buck stood and moved beside his young friend. "I know JD – it's gonna take some getting used to."

A phone call interrupted their private wake, and Chris grabbed at it. "OK – No, don't send anyone yet…OK, but don't let them go near. We go in first. We bring him home. This is NOT up for discussion Carlson. I don't care what your supervisor wants. He wants to play hardball now? Fine. We go in first, or we go to the media. Tell them it wasn't FBI, that you guys are taking credit for the actions of an ATF hero. How does that sound for a news bite? Fine. We'll be there in 20."

No one needed to ask. The quietly picked up their jackets and headed to the cars, getting ready to bring their colleague, their friend, home.

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A country road, hilly terrain. Tall grass and weeds, and wildlife that would scavenge. The ideal spot to dispose of evidence. The scene wasn't hard to locate, what with FBI vehicles and the coroner's wagon parked to the side. Local law enforcement was there too, acting as guardians keeping media and rubberneckers away. Despite the level of activity and the number of personnel, the area was strangely quiet – subdued.

The six were slow to walk to the scene, in no rush to face the inevitable. Carlson was there, and watched as they approached. He'd been talking to a younger man who was leaning heavily against the trunk of his car, looking like a lost soul. He pushed himself away from the vehicle and squared up his shoulders. Recognizing a leader when he saw one, he walked up to Larabee.

"Sir, my name is Roger Taylor. I was the undercover operative for the Bureau on this job. There is not one damn thing I can say to make this right, and if any or all of you want to take a swing at me I will neither stop you or report it. I wish to God things had turned out differently."

Chris looked at the agent, reading the pain in his eyes, and then looked back at his men. Josiah walked up to Taylor, clamping a large hand on his shoulder. To his credit, the young man didn't flinch. "Ezra trusted you to get the important job done. You did. You need to know he'd be ok with that. We can try to be too. But I think you'll understand if we ask you to get the hell out of here now."

Taylor nodded and turned away. A few steps later he turned back. "I know I don't have to tell you this, but he was one hell of an agent. Wish I'd known him better." He left, head down.

Chris lead the sombre parade over to Carlson.

"OK Agent Larabee, we respected your wishes. Nobody has gone down there yet. All we know is he was – he was tossed from the car around dawn this morning along this curve."

Vin winced. That meant there'd been about 12 hours that he'd been lying there – and there were a lot of scavengers in these parts. That wasn't right. "We're wasting daylight." He headed for the hill and the others let him go first. If anyone could spot a hint of a trail to find Ezra, he was the one to do it. He scanned the sloping terrain, looking for any signs of disturbance in the area. His eye settled on grass that was bending and broken, and he headed in that direction. After a moment, the others followed, keeping their distance back to allow the tracker the space to do the job right.

Each man was left to his own thoughts, his own memories and his own regrets. Things said, or not said permeated their consciousness. JD recalled that he still owed Ezra from their last poker game together. It stabbed at him to realize that had in fact been their last poker game. Maybe his last ever, since he couldn't imagine again enjoying Ezra's favorite pastime. Nathan was thinking on the exchanges they'd had on a book both reading and had radically divergent opinions of. That wasn't really a surprise; the two rarely agreed on anything. Over time those differences had become the catalyst for numerous philosophical and moral confrontations which had grown friendlier with each debate. God – he was going to miss those 'deliberations'. Buck was revisiting the last time he'd tried to convince the avowed city boy to join them on a fishing trip, and the variety of ways Ezra had described his distaste for the idea. The man had a unique way of voicing displeasure. Josiah couldn't help but wonder how his friend would be reacting to the discovery that there was something waiting for him on the other side. The two had often debated matters of faith and devotion, and while the southerner firmly held that Josiah was completely misguided in his beliefs, he nevertheless respected his dedication. Chris was focused on nothing more than ensuring Ezra be given the respect he deserved, not just in having his body found, but in getting recognition for his final act. He knew the undercover operator loathed such attention, but he damned well was going to get it for this.

They were sufficiently lost to their own contemplations they failed to notice immediately when Vin came to an abrupt stop. He was far enough ahead of them that it was only when he spoke that they came around, taken more by what he said than the fact he'd said anything.

"You have got to be kidding me. Damn well shoulda known you couldn't do anything the way you're supposed to you stupid son-of-a-bitch." He turned to the others with a face splitting smile. "Get a stretcher down here. Nathan, I think Ezra would appreciate your help."

It took their healer a moment to register what was being said before he charged past the others, dropping beside the wounded man. Dried blood covered the left side of his face and neck, and had dripped down to stain his shirt. He'd somehow managed to drag himself to a position he could be leaning against a tree, staying out of the sun for most of the day.

He looked up at his team mates, eyes slightly unfocused and head unsteady. "I appear to have been ineffective in my determination to ascend this precipitous terrain. Dreadfully dizzy." The speech was slurred and his face was ghostly pale. The effort to speak was enough to exhaust him as he started to tip sideways. Vin was there immediately to keep him from hitting the ground. "Hang in there Pard. You made it this far, don't you quit now."

"I have no intention of quitting anything Mr. Tanner. Standish's don't quit. We do, however, occasionally rest." He tilted his head onto Vin's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"OK, Ez, but just a quick nap." He looked to Nathan.

"Pulse is good, pupils are a bit off, but better than you'd think. How the hell is this possible?" He turned. "And where the hell is the stretcher." The frozen men were spurred to action by the shout. Buck stampeded up the hill for assistance, shouting the news ahead to the stunned ensemble waiting. The rest of the team moved to get closer, but kept back on the signal from Nathan. Chris did move in, and rested a hand on Ezra's leg. His eyes opened briefly, acknowledging the contact. "You just take it easy now. We got you. Can't wait to hear this story."

"And I shall regale in sharing it my friend." He swallowed and tried to regain focus. "The girls?"

Chris grinned. "You did real good Ezra. They're all safe."

"Splendid." He looked to their leader. "Not going anywhere Mr. Larabee. Jus' gonna nap for a bit now." He closed his eyes as he saw the smile cross Chris's face.

"No Ezra, you've got to try to stay awake. Ezra?" Nathan words fell on deaf ears. The stretcher bearers arrived, followed closely by Carlson and Taylor, both with stunned looks on their faces.

"But I saw them shoot him. In the head. He went down and there was blood…"

Buck grinned. "Ah hell, we shoulda known it would take a lot more that a bullet to the head to bring down our boy. He's too damn stubborn and thick skulled for something that simple to stop him."

"But he was shot in the head! What the hell?"

"Agent Taylor." The bewildered young FBI agent looked to Josiah. "I think it might be easier if you simply choose to accept that for such an incredibly unfortunate man when it comes to being wounded, Ezra Standish is indeed the luckiest man on earth. That is the paradox that makes him who he is."

"But…I don't…" he sighed. "How?"

"Is that the voice of the man who was witness to my unpleasant failure on this assignment?" His voice was weak with exhaustion as it rose from the stretcher.

"I didn't see any failure sir. I saw a man sacrificing himself to save others. Damnedest thing I ever saw, I gotta say. Only failure I can tell of seems to be in the bullet they fired."

"It all went well?"

"Yeah – thanks to you."

"To you's'well, and de job you'd..." Ezra's speech was slurring again.

"Well, let's discuss that at some future time. Think your friends would like to take you to the hospital now, which I'd say is a damn good idea."

"I am too fatigued to quarrel" he mumbled, falling asleep once again.

Not one of the men climbing the hill could begin to force the grin off his face.

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