The Absence of Shadows
Part 4
Now and again
it turns to hail;
the wind is strong.
Shiki
J Watson's (The Saloon)
Denver, Colorado
Ezra and Vin stepped into the saloon. They had gone to check on some snitches, but came up empty handed. They would have to wait for Ikeda's phone call and allow the FBI to take the lead. Ezra was glad that Buck suggested they meet at the saloon, since only a drink would help soften the blow- he was working with the Bureau again. It made the undercover agent's skin itch when he heard the acronym FBI, even the Keihls skincare products his personal shopper from Niemans had given him, couldn't help.
Team Seven's table was still vacant. Standish heard Tanner's audible sigh over the cacophony of the after work crowd gathered. Ezra couldn't blame the sharpshooter for his nervousness. They had both seen how the lines had been drawn, Buck, Josiah and himself supported Vin, while JD and Nathan were against. Chris, had the southerner stumped. Suddenly, Larabee had become a dictator. The noticeable turn in personality aggravated Ezra.
Standish cleared his throat, so he would not take the frustration out on Inez, the proprietress. She was busy fielding bar orders. Ezra and Vin waited by the bar until Inez gave them a nod.
"Brandy and a pitcher of beer," Standish ordered. "On Agent Wilmington's tab, darling." Buck had requested Ezra's presence and therefore etiquette dictated that he pay for the libations. Inez laughed. Standish winked. The undercover agent knew the Mexican woman liked to irritate the affable agent. Buck had mercilessly flirted with Inez. She had had a soft spot for the team, but did not want to get involved with them on a personal basis. Wilmington had been trying to change her mind. He said he relished the challenge.
Vin and Ezra sat at the table across from each other. The sharpshooter pulled a basket of free peanuts that languished on each table, he began to peel the peanuts. "I think the Jag's timing is off." Tanner drawled. "I thought I heard somethin.' I can take a look if you want."
An offending peanut shell skidded, landing in Ezra's lap. Standish picked up the dried legume and tossed it back, hitting Vin's chest. "Agent Tanner, I have seen you fix your vehicle with a hammer." Standish remembered the distinct clanging noise that rumbled through the garage at the Federal Building. Vin was hitting some part in the engine of the junk pile he referred to as a vehicle. Nonchalantly, he had closed the hood, put the toolbox in the backseat. He had given Ezra the two-fingered salute before starting the Jeep.
Vin shrugged his shoulders. "It worked, didn't it." The sharpshooter grinned as he reached for the pitcher of beer as Inez quietly deposited it on the table.
Ezra shook his head, bringing the brandy snifter to his nose to inhale the spicy scent. Tanner was using his subterfuge techniques so he could drive the Jag. When they were undercover Standish had to let Vin drive the car on occasion. But, the southerner would never let Tanner drive Ezra's pride and joy on a recreational basis. His mind flashed to Snowball and Twinkie wrappers littering the leather interior. "No, you can not drive my car."
"Can't blame a guy for tryin.'" Vin chuckled and Ezra joined in. They continued to laugh even though their bantering hadn't been that humorous. Standish knew it was a devil-may-care laugh, but one of relief of having survived. They continued to laugh until their eyes glistened and JD interrupted them.
The young agent was holding his helmet, which was glistening with fine drops of water. "Buck's gonna be awhile." Dunne announced and tucked the helmet under the table. JD remained standing, glancing at Vin and Ezra and deciding where to sit. Normally, there would be no hesitation. JD would have sat next to Tanner.
It was as if Vin suddenly had a case of leprosy though, Ezra mused, and Dunne took the seat next to Standish. The young man's wet leather coat brushed against the southerner's Zegna suit jacket, dampening the sleeve. The undercover agent brushed his arm, and looked at the sharpshooter. Vin shrugged at the slight.
"What detains our host?" Ezra asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket to try to make himself comfortable in the nerving silence.
Josiah answered, coming up behind Standish and moving into the vacant chair next to Vin without hesitation. "A woman of course, Brother." Sanchez pushed the peanut shells out of his way. "Anyone notice when Brother Wilmington is on the phone with a woman his voice suddenly goes down a few octaves and he starts whispering."
"You would think he would realize the total lack of privacy in the office." Standish snickered as he sipped his brandy, letting it warm the rawness of the evening from his bones.
Nathan filed in to the back area of the saloon, his hair glistening with the outdoor dampness. "Chris has to do some paperwork. He'll be here soon." Jackson said, as he pulled a chair from another table and brought it to the head of the table.
Ezra marveled at how the dampness not only clung to the medic's hair, but to his personality. Standish noticed Tanner nursing his beer, probably to prevent from choking on the depressing attitude of two of the team members.
Josiah poured himself a beer, stood and picked up the full glass. "I'm going to try my luck at the dart board while we wait."
Ezra watched the large agent leave and go to the other side of the bar. Standish curled his toes, encased in the soft leather loafer, giving him a sense of digging in. With Josiah away from the table, responsibility fell onto to the undercover agent to make sure everyone played nice.
Nathan closed his eyes and placed his elbows on the table, and brought his hand up so he could rest his head. "JD, being from Boston, do you remember Len Bias?" Jackson asked, ignoring the other two occupants of the table.
"Damn, Nathan, of course I do." JD nodded, wiping the beer foam that had adjoined itself to his upper lip. "The Celts would have been great if only—well, you know." Dunne said let his voice trail off quietly.
Standish kept glancing at the two men. He had no idea what they were discussing. It had something to do with basketball, but Ezra didn't see the connection until it was too late.
"Yeah, if only." Nathan replied, sitting up straighter and folding his arms in front of him. "I knew the Terps team doctor. He couldn't believe that Lenny, of all people." Jackson shook his head. "Stupid kid, did coke once and he died."
"Yeah, I remember." Dunne nodded, and gave a flickering glance to Vin.
Ezra swirled the brandy in its snifter and watched the flexibility of the amber liquid reflecting the stagnancy of the men before him with their one-dimensional line of thought. Standish had enough as he watched Vin fidget and sink lower in his rattan chair, figuring he deserved the admonishment. The undercover agent hadn't watched over all night, sitting in an uncomfortable lawn chair, while Tanner was in the sweat lodge only to see everything fall apart.
Ezra's voice was laced with a deadly edginess. "Gentlemen, I suggest you cease and desist." Standish set the glass on the table, and cupped his hands around the snifter.
Standish heard the chair across from him grate against the floor. "Forget about it, Ez." Vin said as he stood up. "I'm leaving." The sharpshooter added just as Buck and Chris had entered. Vin brushed against Larabee forcibly enough so he had to take a step back. Then the sharpshooter was gone.
"What happened?" Buck asked as he watched the back of Tanner go through the crowd towards the exit.
Ezra didn't have to look at Chris. The leader knew the undercover agent was talking to him. Standish continued to stare into the brandy. "You fed him to the wolves."
Larabee remained standing stiffly. "He should have expected this." Chris answered quietly.
Standish saw the amber colored liquid change to a fiery red. He stood up and snarled to his boss. "You sanctimonious bastard."
For a tense moment, Ezra held his breath and returned the icy glare Chris gave him. Suddenly, Larabee turned and went after Vin. Standish exhaled, and smiled as he sat down, glad his gamble had paid off. The undercover agent immediately wiped the smile from his visage. Buck was looking grimly at his roommate, and Ezra narrowed his eyes and bore down on the young agent.
"What?" JD said, trying to look puzzled and innocent at the same time. "Nate and I were talking about Len Bias." Dunne pointed at Jackson. "We were just trying to help."
Ezra brought the glass to his lips and savored the taste. "Deplorable way to show your concern." Standish commented over the rim of the snifter. "There must be some past imperfection of yours somewhere." The undercover agent asked the medic.
"Ezra," Nathan said, enunciating the southerner's name. "You don't want to go there." Jackson's chair scraped back, and he quietly left the table and joined Josiah by the dartboard.
"Due to your past medical assistance, I will allow some leniency." Ezra mumbled under his breath. He knew Nathan would come around eventually. Jackson liked to save lives not ruin them. Standish closed his eyes and turned his attention to his next target. "I am disappointed in you JD."
"Me? What did I do?" Dunne said, as he popped another peanut in his mouth.
Ezra stretched out, and placed his arms behind his neck. "You are always trying to prove your manhood, yet you have failed miserably."
JD stopped chewing and swallowed. "You take that back, Ezra."
Standish shook his head, knowing he was making the young agent uncomfortable. "Ahh, acknowledging the truth is always difficult."
JD gripped the edge of the table. "Buck, are you going to help me out?" He asked in a strained voice.
"Nope," he crossed his arms and signaled for another pitcher. "Truth is, Vin's a good man. Truth is, your acting like an ass. You know what?" Wilmington waited to finish his comment as Inez came by and took away the empty beer container and replaced it. Buck gave the bar owner a wink as she left. Wilmington tossed a peanut at his roommate to get his attention again. "He's your friend and if the case was reversed he'd stand by you."
Dunne let go of the table, and began to concentrate on the condensation ring left behind by his glass. Ezra wasn't satisfied though at the young agent's change of behavior. JD was partially responsible for making Vin suffer and although the sharpshooter would never exact revenge, it was not beneath Standish to.
"Have you forgotten Annie?" Ezra said softly, bringing up the name of the woman JD had accidentally killed. "If I recollect correctly, Vin stood by you, Agent Dunne."
Dunne snapped his head up. "Don't bring that up." JD said softly.
Buck nodded, agreeing with Standish. "Vin didn't throw it in your face."
Ezra finished off the remaining brandy. "I still recall the sensational headlines-'ATF Agent Shoots Innocent Bystander.'"
Wilmington sighed; he was putting the mug to his lips and placed it back down. "They did want your head on a platter." Wilmington brought the glass back up again. "Hell, you had to hide out at Vin's place for awhile."
JD looked up to the ceiling his eyes following the rotation of the fan above. He blinked rapidly. In the meantime Buck and Ezra gave each other a nod knowing they had finally made the young agent understand.
Dunne cleared his throat. "Geez, you guys don't pull any punches."
Buck had taken the seat Nathan had vacated. Wilmington reached out and gave the young agent a pat on the back. "Damn, JD, you've had so many concussions that it takes you a little longer to figure it out."
"Luckily, Agent Wilmington and myself have proven to be excellent examples and teachers and we are able to show you the error of your ways." Ezra sagely said, feeling proud that he was able to steer JD to the correct conclusion. Standish could only hope that Chris and Nathan's stubbornness was short lived. He raised his hand to order another brandy, and thought that it was a nice to delusion to believe.
Nathan watched as Josiah carefully weighed the red metal dart in his hand. Jackson felt calmer just being in Sanchez's presence. The large man was contemplative, concerning all his actions, whether it was making a cup of coffee, repairing a roof or bringing down a criminal. On occasion, Nathan found himself emulating the older man, which is why they were teamed up so much, especially during stakeouts. The medic wanted to attain a level of peacefulness after the turmoil of his younger days of growing up bearing a yoke of discrimination. Josiah helped raise the bar of humanity that the medic wanted to achieve.
The large man ran his hand down the dart before firmly holding it with his index finger and thumb. With a flick of Sanchez's wrist he let the mini-projectile free, with a soft thud it entered into the red section of the corkboard. Josiah took a sip of his beer before he went forward and pulled the three darts out.
"You want to give it a try?" Sanchez asked Jackson, who shook his head. "It quiets the mind."
Nathan grinned. "I don't think anything can stop what's going through my head." The medic rested against the edge of a vacant pool table. "You know I was only trying to point out some health hazards." Jackson gestured with his head back to the team's table.
"That's mighty admirable of you." Sanchez commented as he placed his feet against the line drawn on the saloon's floor.
Nathan shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe." He looked down at the older agent's feet so firmly planted on the ground, so secure that supporting the sharpshooter was the correct decision.
"You don't sound sure, thought you were all hellfire against Vin." Josiah said as he threw the dart.
The medic chuckled. "Hellfire is your area, son of a preacher." The boys were constantly ribbing the large agent about his father. It didn't help that JD had downloaded of Son of a Preacher Man onto Josiah's computer.
Sanchez laughed too. "Just like you save lives."
Nathan stopped laughing and snorted, "I'm an EMT, Josiah, not a doctor." Back in college he was just able to get by monetarily. He couldn't afford med school, hell; he was still paying his undergrad loans off. Nathan had decided to go to the army instead, that decision had eventually led him to law enforcement.
Sanchez got into a secure stance in preparation to toss the next dart. "Doesn't matter. You like to save souls and bodies." Josiah gave a peripheral glance to the target. "All the times you get after Ezra, trying to show him the error of his greedy ways."
"I only want him to be better. . ." Just like Nathan tried everyday to be a better person. He reflected back on his incident with amphetamines. If he had been a stronger person then, he would have never resorted to drugs.
"We're the best we can be, Nathan." Sanchez tossed the dart, and turned to face Jackson. "We make mistakes. We make decisions. We live with everything 'cause we know we did our best and that's all anybody can ask."
The medic licked his lips and cleared his voice. In a low, monotone voice he replied, "So you're saying I've been a jerk concerning Vin?" Nathan knitted his soft brows together. He hated to fail, and he had failed to be a friend and teammate.
"If that's what you think fits you best." Josiah threw the last dart haphazardly. "Let's see if we can help our brothers with that pitcher of beer."
They headed back to the table. Nathan followed behind Josiah, allowing the older man to lead while he did some thinking. He had to apologize to Vin. But an 'I'm sorry' just didn't seem to be right.
Chris pushed people out of his way. He exited the saloon, the bell over the door clanged wildly. Larabee looked right, then left. The streetlight cast a dark shadow, barely distinguishable against the black, glittery pavement slick with a misting rain. Vin was walking towards his Jeep, head bent down. The tall shadow separated them. Chris called out, "Wait!"
Tanner stopped, but did not turn around, allowing Larabee time to catch up. Chris jogged towards him. The leader could see the sharp angle of the sharpshooter's cheekbones, the light highlighted one part of his face, immersing the other side in darkness. Vin's eyes were downcast.
There was a silence between them that stretched into a few minutes. Chris could feel his hair becoming damp, and the coldness seeping in through his black windbreaker. As the time elapsed, Chris became angry until he finally had to break the unnerving quietness that usually was comfortable between the two. "I thought you had a fucking better head on your shoulders." Larabee said, talking to Tanner's back.
Slowly, Vin turned around. He straightened his hunched shoulders, and lifted his chin. "What the hell did you want me to do?" The sharpshooter growled. "Let Ezra take that shit?" Tanner did not wait for a response. "Or maybe I shoulda said, 'No, I ain't doing it,' and blown our cover. At least I wouldn't broken no laws. Maybe I'd be dead or Ezra, though." Vin turned as if to walk away.
Larabee placed a restricting hand on Vin's shoulder, so that he couldn't leave. "How the hell do I justify letting one of my agents get away with snorting coke?"
Roughly, Tanner swatted the hand off. "One fuckin' line, Chris! What would you have done?"
Even though it was raw outside, Larabee could feel the heat growing in the conversation. "I don't know." Chris replied, letting his hand fall to his side. He did not want to make any motion towards Vin. How could the leader explain that it was different for him. Chris was older and had already lived one life with a wife and child, he knew what it felt like to be complete. The others on the team had not had that opportunity. Larabee could take any risk. He wanted the others to survive, so that they could grow old and have a family one day. Larabee didn't know if he would ever be as happy as he once was with Sarah. Yet, he could die tomorrow and it would be fine cause he, during one part of his life, had everything. Instead of explaining, Chris shook his head. He wasn't willing to share this facet of his life with anyone.
"Well, I don't need another fuckin' guilt trip! I gotta enough shit to carry around." Vin pointed his finger and forcibly poked it into Larabee's shoulder. He then pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around his torso. With an angered filled voice Tanner continued. "I didn't ask you to risk your career. I was willing to go down for what I did. You had to fuck it all up and play the damn hero-and take care of me."
Absently, Chris rubbed the spot on his chest where Vin had struck him. It didn't hurt, but it made him feel as though Tanner had taken advantage of him. All the stuff-risking his career, that Chris had been put through only to be shit on. A little fucking gratitude would be nice for a change. Larabee lashed out, giving the sharpshooter a shove. "I wouldn't have to take care of you if you weren't so fuckin' reckless!"
Vin faltered backwards, placing his right leg back so that he wouldn't fall. Tanner lunged forward, grabbing a fist full of Chris's windbreaker. The sharpshooter brought his fist back, and then blinked.
Chris saw a moment of startling clarity enter Vin's eyes. Tanner let his hand drop to his side, and uncurled his fingers methodically from Larabee's jacket. The sharpshooter took a step away and turned his back. Chris could see the fog escaping from Vin's mouth as he took deep, ragged breaths.
Larabee closed his eyes in disbelief at how close they had come to violence. Over the echoing sounds of the city he heard the dejected whisper. "Do you want me to quit?" Vin turned and faced Chris, droplets of fine rain traced the sharpshooter's face. "It'll make it easier on the both of us."
The dark clad leader savagely wiped the rain from his face, feeling aggravated with his lack of control. "NO GODDAMMIT!" Chris bent his head low and ran a hand through his hair until he let it rest on his neck. "I wish this had never happened." He sighed, deflating all the tension in his body.
Larabee didn't know how long they stood in silence. Time was measured by a flickering streetlight that didn't have the strength to stay lit. Finally, Vin nodded, as if he understood the machinations of the world. "I can't go back and undo it, Chris. I don't know if I would undo it if I could." That said, Tanner shrugged his shoulders and began to walk off into the night.
The light above decided to hold steady, illuminating that Chris was about to let one of his team, one of his friends walk away. It was one thing to have someone die on you and it was something else entirely to push a person away. Larabee felt it was a great temptation- it would save him from emotions, much like his black clothing did on the outside. His deliberate wearing of black was to tell others he did not want to get involved; all the color had been sucked out of his world. "My gut knows you're right." Chris said, raising his voice slightly so it would carry over the 10 feet of distance. "That's why I'm standing by you." Larabee noticed that Tanner had stopped. "Just give a chance for my gut to tell my head."
The shadowed form before him didn't turn, but Larabee noted the slight tilt of the head - as if aiming an ear in the direction of the roundabout apology. A second or two passed, then, slowly Vin let himself face the other man. With a deliberate casualness, Tanner made his way back to Chris. But there was no hesitation as he offered an outstretched arm to his friend. "Glad you came to your senses."
Chris clasped the forearm, and noticed the clouds moving against the inky night sky. Just like the clouds, he thought, the leader needed to move past this incident. As the dark puffy, streaks drifted over, a sliver of the haunting moon could be seen.
"Mule-headed cowboy," Vin muttered with a grin.
Larabee smirked in return. Chris was actually more like the moon going through its phases, until one day he too would be whole and solid. This man and the five others inside the saloon were a planetary force to be reckoned with and they wanted him to breathe, live and feel.
Chris could feel Tanner's grip, the cold and the rain. He had let go of the numbness that had been the leader's defense mechanism since this whole mess with Vin had started. He was able to have some feeling seep into his body. The team was giving him time to return to the land of the living, and was willing to put up with his over-protectiveness. They just asked Chris to stand by them. He had pushed Vin's patience to almost the breaking point. Chris shook his head at his own thoughts, let go of the handshake and gave Tanner a pat on the back to try to tell the man wordlessly, 'Thanks for putting up with my shit.' The leader then pointed to the saloon.
Tanner shook his head and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. "Damn Chris, the kid's lookin' at me like I kilt his dog and Nathan is waiting for me to drop dead." Vin roughly pushed his wet hair away from his face then returned his hand back to the pocket. "If I'm just going back in there so's they can dump more shit on me, thanks, but I'll pass. You'll have my resignation in the morning."
Chris turned and started to walk to J. Watson's. He called back, "Tanner if you don't follow me inside I will fire you." Larabee smiled as he heard the soft footsteps hesitantly behind him.
Chris stepped in front of the team's table. They were sitting there, uncommunicative and sullen. JD was slouched down in his chair and sat up when he noticed the leader's presence. Ezra glanced at Chris and then turned slightly to give a nod to Vin, who was a few steps away. Buck gave his friend a smirk, Josiah drank his beer and Nathan toyed with a straw wrapper.
"You all made a descision this morning." Larabee announced referring to earlier in the day. He had made it so easy for them. All they needed to do was accept and keep quiet. "Did I fucking twist your arm?" The team did not respond, which riled Chris; they were reflecting exactly how he had been earlier. Larabee knew that he had no problem with Buck, Josiah and Ezra, but they had to hear this as well as Nathan and JD. Chris slammed his hand on the table causing the glasses to jump. "You all fucking think I wouldn't do the same for you."
"No, Chris, we don't think that," JD sputtered.
Larabee pretended not to hear him because he just wanted to finish without interruption. "Hell, I've been shot saving each one of your asses." Chris sat down in the seat at the head of the table and poured himself a beer, allowing time for the others to accept the truth.
Buck chuckled, breaking the seriousness Larabee had tried to project. "Chris, you only got grazed taking that bullet for me."
At first there was a gruff laugh from Josiah, which spread to Ezra, then Nathan and finally to JD. Buck stood up in the midst of the joviality and gestured to Tanner still waiting on the outskirts.
"Vin you gonna sit down? Otherwise, Inez will put you on her shitlist for blocking traffic." Wilmington gestured to the long-legged waitress holding a tray of nachos, trying to figure a way to deliver the food to the table and get around Vin, who seemed to be fixed in place.
The sharpshooter shrugged and came over, taking the seat by Buck. The waitress winked at Tanner causing him to blush and look away. She also replaced the peanuts.
"Actually, I do believe that you have that position shored up, Buck." Ezra drawled, relaxing back into his chair. "I'm willing to wager on it."
The southerner's comment brought another round of laughter, and Buck decided to retaliate by tossing peanuts at Standish. Josiah, caught in the middle of the attack, covered his drink with a large hand and shook his head.
"Don't know why I put up with all of you." Chris said, catching Sanchez's eye.
"Seems like lapses in judgement have been the theme lately wouldn't you say?" Ezra said, directing his green eyes at Larabee, while deflecting the salty ammunition. Chris gave Standish a withering stare, which the undercover agent waved off. Larabee hated when the smug undercover agent was right-God knew he would never live it down.
It was Nathan's reaction of shifting uncomfortably in his chair that got Chris's attention. Jackson was never one to fidget. Larabee hadn't forgotten about the medic's lapse concerning the FBI. But, Larabee wasn't going to let it eat at him, not with the upcoming case. Truthfully though, a part of Chris felt good to know that Jackson was still feeling guilty. Just like Vin, he would never be that foolish again, or at least not in the near future.
Larabee looked at the two men. Vin was still uncomfortable, although Buck kept nudging him to join in the peanut fight. Nathan was thoughtful and sipped at his beer. Chris knew they would settle things themselves at the right time. Larabee didn't miss how JD was already extending an olive branch.
Dunne seemed to be contemplating, then he looked up and caught Tanner's eye. "Your friend James seems like a good guy," the young agent said sheepishly.
The sharpshooter gave a quick nod and spoke to JD, and soon it was like a rift had never existed between the two. Chris took a long draw on his beer and watch the team's antics like an admiring observer. Damn, he was watching too many beer commercials.
Vin had woken up at his usual time to greet the sun as it rose. He was planning on working out at home before taking a shower, but today he was feeling like he wanted to have some space, instead of using the heavy bag in his cramped apartment.
After a rough beginning last night, Tanner had eventually felt everything was back to normal with the boys. Except with Nathan, thought the sharpshooter as he maneuvered through the desolate streets of Denver with his Jeep and duffel bag in the seat beside him. Vin would have to fix it with Nate, somehow. As Tanner drummed the steering wheel, he figured he'd start eating healthy foods like fruit and granola, in front of the medic. The convenience store would miss him and his daily purchase of Yodels, Snowballs and Twinkies. It would be a sacrifice, but Jackson was worth it. As Vin pulled into the garage and made his way to the Federal Building's gym in the basement he smiled as he remembered what Ezra had said about Nathan when the undercover agent had first joined after a stressful day and a few drinks.
"Agent Jackson worries that I am Judas amongst the Apostles." Ezra had waived his hand. "Excuse me, I forgot that Josiah is the only person allowed religious comparisons." Standish then continued in a lower voice so only Vin could here. "There are men who can accept a man, then there are others who see a man and what he should be." Ezra's southern drawl had become thick as he finished. "I thank Agent Jackson for his concern, however I shall never live up to his expectations."
"Me neither, Ez." Vin said, out loud to the empty gym as he turned on the lights; the fluorescent bulbs sputtered until they found their groove. Groove, Vin thought, the coke fiasco had put him out of sync with Jackson.
"Ahh, it's gonna be rough for a while, Tanner but you'll manage." Vin sighed as he pulled off his cowboy boots and socks, placing them against the wall. No one would be here for awhile. If he was lucky, Chris would stop by, and they would do a few rounds in the ring before starting the day.
Tanner took his sparring gloves out of his gym bag. He had slept in sweats and a t-shirt and therefore didn't bother changing. In addition he preferred working out in his bare feet like he did when he practiced his katas. It was relaxing to feel the connection with the ground. It kept him centered and focussed. Before Vin had left his apartment he packed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to slip into before he headed up to the eleventh floor.
Tanner began to circle the speed bag, concentrating on keeping the momentum going in a repetitive manner. First, he kept his right jab up and then worked on his left, switching in the second it took for the little red bag to jump back before it was propelled forward.
Tanner gave the bag one strong hit, and stood there watching the bag jostle back and forth as he caught his breath. The sharpshooter sensed someone in the room with him. "Hey, cow . . ." Vin said as he turned, startled to find James standing there watching him. "Hey Jimmy, what brings you here?" Tanner asked as walked over to the heavy bag to continue his workout.
"Couldn't sleep." Kotsu drew himself away from the shadow that the door was providing. "Probably cause of the jetlag." James unbuttoned his gray suit jacket. "I remembered you were an early bird, and thought we'd have some time to talk over a cup of coffee." The FBI agent gestured with a nod to the ring. "But, on the other hand, want to spar?"
Vin chuckled. Tanner had become accustomed to sparring with Chris and some other ATF agents. He hadn't sparred with Jimmy in years, and it had always been a challenge then, the sharpshooter wondered if he was prepared. "Wouldn't wanta get your clothes all wrinkled."
James had already slipped out of his jacket and was tugging off his shirt. "Tanner, I know I'm better than you." Came the muffled replied until the shirt was pulled off. "I figured you may want a few pointers." James smiled as he kicked off his shoes.
Tanner walked to the ring and ducked under the ropes. "Hell, Jimmy, you're just askin' for a beatin'." Vin taunted, as he began shifting his weight back and forth to loosen up.
Kotsu, clad in his suit pants, grabbed a set of gloves and joined Tanner in the ring. He began to shake his arms and legs out to warm up in preparation.
In the beginning they threw a few front kicks and straight punches to set the distance-how far they would have to punch or kick to hit their opponent. Both of them had a slight sheen to their faces as they began to exert energy. Vin decided to go on the offensive and sweep Jimmy's leg. Tanner must have telegraphed his intentions, because Kotsu picked up his leg and Vin landed awkwardly forward.
Jimmy took the opportunity of Vin being off-balance and delivered a spinning crescent kick to Tanner's torso. He followed it up with a jumping, front kick off the front foot that propelled Vin into the ropes. The sharpshooter shoved the FBI agent away. Kotsu nodded and stepped back.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' Vin said to himself. He shouldn't have been so foolish to try the sweep. Tanner heard someone clearing his throat behind him. The sharpshooter turned to see Chris shaking his head. Tanner nodded and hit his head with his glove hand to show he was trying to knock some sense into himself. Vin gave the ATF leader a questioning look, which Larabee understood. Chris pointed to the video camera.
"Great, security's sending an audience." Tanner growled as he stepped away from the red cable he had been resting against.
"Damn," Kotsu said. Vin thought the FBI agent was agreeing with him. Tanner hated to be crowded. Jimmy winked, "Sorry, you're gonna lose in front of all your friends."
The sharpshooter grinned at his friend's cockiness. The match wasn't over yet. "Come on," Vin gestured with his hands for Kotsu to come forward. Tanner could at least be thankful that Ezra wasn't an early riser and wouldn't be at the gym taking bets. Nothing was worse than having a friend bet against you.
Vin started with a basic combination of inside kick, to round house kick to back fist that pushed Jimmy back into the center of the ring. Kotsu followed up with a ridge hand and a few upper cuts. Tanner kept his elbows in to protect his torso, and was able to duck and deflect some of the blows while returning with some shots. The sharpshooter, though, had a sinking sense that Jimmy was holding back.
Every once in awhile his eye caught another familiar face; he noticed that Josiah, Nathan, Buck and JD had filed in by Larabee, watching by the doorway.
"Go Vin!" The sharpshooter heard JD yell out, which buoyed Tanner's tenacity to find Kotsu's weak points. However, Dunne himself had provided the opening the sharpshooter needed. Jimmy seemed distracted by the young agent, and slightly dropped his hands away from his head. Tanner took the chance, leaned back and sent a wheel kick to the side of Jimmy's head. Kotsu staggered sideways, and Vin decided to try the sweep again, this time hooking Jimmy's front foot out from under him, which caused him to fall back.
Tanner couldn't hide the grin that broke his face when he heard Buck yell out, "Woohoo!"
Jimmy was staying down; Vin went near his friend, about to offer a hand up, when he felt Kotsu's foot go into his stomach. Suddenly, Tanner was tossed over Jimmy's head.
Vin tucked in, so he ended up in a somersault, but he still landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. From the distance, he saw Chris's brows knit in anger. Tanner lifted a hand to say he was okay. Vin had agreed to the spar Kotsu, and he had forgotten the first rule, a fight is never finished until someone has given up, and Jimmy had not cried, 'uncle.'
The sharpshooter felt one of his arms being lifted so that his chest came off the mat. Jimmy put one foot under Vin's chest and his left leg over the ATF agent's neck. Tanner felt the sharp pain in his right arm as Kotsu gained leverage and began to lean back so that Vin's arm was hyper-extended.
Tanner began to think of countermoves, and tried to shift his hips and legs to force Jimmy off, but every time he tried, the leg around his neck squeezed tighter causing him to see spots. Damn, this was a good hold. Vin tried not to think of the burning sensation in his arm. He tried to work with his other hand and wind it under the FBI agent's restraining leg.
Through a dimming haze Vin heard Nathan yell out. "That's enough," Jackson slapped the floor of the ring to get everyone's attention. "Stubborn fool's not going to tap out."
With a grunt Jimmy released the hold and gave Tanner a tap on the shoulder. "Good job," the FBI agent said as he cleared the way for Jackson to kneel beside Vin.
"I'm fine, Nathan." The sharpshooter said as he got up slowly and rotated his arm. He might have had Kotsu if Vin had more time, Tanner thought wryly. Vin continued to stretch the soreness out of his arm. The longhaired agent began to notice that the medic was not his usual doctoring self. "You probably think I needed the wind knocked out of me." Tanner whispered so only Nathan could hear. Vin figured now was as good a time as any to make peace with Jackson.
"You probably wish that it was me you were hitting out there." Nathan sighed, looking at the mat, instead of facing the sharpshooter.
"Yeah, you know that part when I had him on the ropes," Vin smirked. "I was thinking of you." Tanner put his hand out so that Nathan could assist him.
Jackson gripped Vin's arm, and pulled him up. Tanner swayed slightly, and Nate put a steadying hand on the sharpshooter's elbow. "You saved my life-and I owe you for that."
"Hell, you've been there for me too many times to count." Vin put his hand on Jackson's elbow, not because of the lightheadedness, but out of a symbol of friendship.
Nathan nodded and smiled, happy his apology was accepted. The medic gave Vin a pat on the back as they joined the rest of the team. Tanner was glad at the warmness behind the touch and that he didn't have to resort to sacrificing his junk food habit.
James was sitting on a bench. Josiah had brought him a towel, which Kotsu hung around his neck as he slipped on his shoes and socks.
"He okay?" Chris asked, trying to judge if the sharpshooter was showing any signs of the abuse he had taken in the ring.
"I'm fine." Vin gave Jimmy a nod to show there were no hard feelings. Kotsu put his hand up to give Tanner a high-five.
The FBI agent pulled his shirt on. "I thought you would have all learned by now that Tanner is tougher than he looks." Kotsu brushed his thick black hair away from his face.
The team laughed but, not a hearty chuckle. It was more like a warning, which was music to Vin's ears. He was part of the fold, and they would circle their wagons around him to protect him. In that moment he felt that the cocaine incident was behind him. It would never come to light.
Tanner tossed Buck one of his gloves as he began to peel them off so that Wilmington would place them in his bag. "Actually we kinda think he's made of Teflon, the way he deflects those bullets." The mustached agent began to play around with the glove and mock hit JD in the nose. Dunne threw some fake jabs at Wilmington's gut.
"Deflects?" Nathan threw his hands up, exasperated. "His medical history is a book."
Buck dropped the glove in the duffel bag and caught the other glove that was tossed at him. "Aww, Nate, can Vin help it if he has injury magnetism?"
This time the laughing was sincere. Tanner didn't mind it was at his expense. He would gladly take any of those bullets again if it meant he saved the lives of one of his friends.
Ezra cleared his throat and leaned against the door jam, waiting for the others to calm down. "I heard I missed a fine gambling opportunity."
"Vin and James," JD explained pointing to the two former combatants. "James ended up winning," Dunne added solemnly, showing loyalty to his friend.
Tanner gave the young agent a nod. JD returned with a wide grin. Vin felt a prickle up his spine and noted that Jimmy was looking intensely at Dunne. No one had picked up on it except for Vin and once Kotsu noticed that the sharpshooter was staring at him, he stopped and slid on his suit jacket.
"Why must you ruin my day straight off?" Standish dusted the fictitious lint from his suit sleeve. "Remember Vin, I am your promoter."
"Since when?" Chris asked, crooking his eyebrow at the southerner. Vin wanted to laugh at Larabee's playful suspiciousness.
Standish fidgeted with his shirt cuff, which had nothing to do with his fastidiousness. The undercover agent would move restlessly when he was reminded that he had gained a reputation of taking advantage of others. Most people, like Vin, knew it was a false rep.
Tanner was about to make some joking comment when Jimmy interrupted. "Ikeda call?" Kotsu asked, as he stood up, neatly dressed.
"Yes, he wants to arrange a preliminary meeting." Ezra replied full of seriousness.
Strongmen don't die on the tatami
anonymous
Penthouse Suite
Loew's Giorgio Hotel
Denver, CO
James relaxed for a moment on the white sofa in the penthouse of the Loew's Giorgio Hotel. It was only the best for the Yamaguchi Gumi clan, which had taken over the luxurious top floor of the prestigious hotel. His boss, Saizo Kishimoto, would be arriving in Denver shortly with some other senior bosses and some soldiers. James would return to his position as fuku-honbucho, an assistant.
His morning at the Federal building had been bittersweet. It would be the last time he would freely enter the ATF offices and be recognized as an agent working for the United States government. James had been undercover so long he started to forget he was an American citizen. He had been undercover three years and his thoughts were no longer in English, instead he heard Japanese. In fact, like some Japanese, he had the attitude that they were superior to U.S.
His liaison, Agent Mike Sullivan, would be irate if he heard that James did not consider himself a true blue American. Kotsu stretched his medium sized frame. On the other hand Jimmy did not care about Mike Sullivan. The fellow FBI agent assumed that they were friends. Sullivan didn't understand they were co-workers, Mike would never know the shit James was going through.
Thinking of friendship made Kotsu have to quell the feelings of jealously, which had grown when he had seen Vin Tanner interact with Team Seven. James had figured Vin was dead by now. The FBI agent had been surprised to learn he was with the ATF and that the man didn't seem as screwed up as he used to be. Vin had always been a loner, a quiet one. Over the course of a few assignments together Tanner believed he had found a kindred spirit in Kotsu. The snippets of the ATF agent's life that Jimmy knew about would have sent many men to commit suicide sooner rather than later. But Tanner proved that point that looks could be deceiving.
James reached for the chilled sake. Kotsu felt that being alone made him stronger man-he had only his mission to concentrate on. He had no one left to think about. Not that strong though, he had been startled by the young ATF agent JD. James felt the chill enter his hand from the cold carafe he was still holding. He shook his head and began to pour himself a liberal amount of the clear liquid.
The sake reminded Kotsu of the sakazuki, the ritual ceremony that joined a man to the Yakuza. The initiation had been performed before a Shinto altar. James had found that amusing to find The Dark Society or Yami Shakai wanted to add religious significance to the ceremony. The initiation itself consisted of the sharing of sake between Yoshinori Watanabe, the head of the clan and Kotsu. The amounts of sake in the cups had been carefully measured to signify that it was an elder-younger relationship versus father-son or brother-brother. The FBI agent had promised to live under the code of the Bushido-humility, duty, and loyalty to one's lord.
It had taken 18 months for James to come to the attention of Saizo, his boss. At first the FBI suggested Jimmy start as a jiyage; but Kotsu didn't think he had the larcenous heart that was needed to be one of those in the business of persuading owners by any means to sell their property. So instead, he became a sokaiya-a sort of spy-he was after all keeping in the same line of work.
It had taken a magazine article in one of Japan's many innuendo-laden business publications to manifest a job opportunity with the Yakuza. James really didn't care on which side of the rumor/fact line the information he had about the vice-president of a major corporation having an affair with a 16-year-old rested. It showed the right people he could get information. And that's all that mattered.
The ringer in the room buzzed and ceased James's reminiscing. Kotsu cleared away his glass and adjusted the red, heart-shaped, anatheum flowers that had been placed in a black vase on the coffee table. Jimmy opened the front entrance to the hotel suite. The first ones to enter were the 2 bodyguards followed by a few shatei, senior bosses and wakashi, junior leaders. James gave a nod to each of them and bowed when his boss Saizo Kishimoto came in.
Kishimoto was a short, stocky man which spiky, grayish hair. He projected strength not just by his demeanor. It was the fact the top part of his pinky finger was missing. To a member of the Yakuza it signified that Saizo had been punished for an infraction. In the Yubitsume, he had ceremonially cut his finger and handed it to the clan leader for atonement. It should have projected weakness, but it didn't. In an age where a missing little finger could affect one's golf swing, it was viewed as an incredible sacrifice. The younger members were in awe of Kishimoto.
"I know that we profit from our activities in the United States, but this country . . ." Saizo said, shaking his head. "Kozooshoku," he mumbled under his breath and laughed. "All that waiting to get clearance into this country."
Kotsu chuckled at his boss's insult. He was saying that the United States was structurally corrupt. Sullivan had made sure that there was an ample amount of red tape. Even bribes would be useless thus giving the FBI time to prepare a sting operation. "They also do not have any sobaya." James was referring to the lack of noodle shops in the Denver area, which did not have a large Asian population.
One of the junior bosses had poured Saizo a glass of sake. "We are doing business with some gaijin?"
Kishimoto crooked up a soft black eyebrow, he was suspicious of dealing with non-Asians.
"They are not gurentai- I hope?" The junior boss added, nodding to his superior to show that he believed all foreigners to be juvenile deliquents. "Some young ones trying to make a name for themselves."
James chuckled at the joke. He didn't like the junior bosses, who were always trying to climb up the Yakuza ladder of authority. They tended to be meddlesome and wanted to push business in the U.S. Not just amphetamines for drugs, but also by investing in American corporations to launder money. "No, Ikeda assured me these gaijin can be trusted." Kotsu felt funny using the term for foreigner. He was a foreigner in his own country, he was a foreigner among these men even though they thought he was Japanese born and raised. Jimmy felt like a foreigner in his own skin lately.
"Good, good," Saizo said and sat down on the couch, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.
"The initial meeting is tomorrow." He explained as the rest of the group of bosses shared a glass of sake before discussing business.
"Very well Kotsu, I am sure you handled all the arrangements." Saizo said without a second thought, knowing his advisor was able to handle the arrangements.
The undercover FBI had the Yakuza boss's implicit trust. Yes, James thought, everything was going according to plan.