Chapter 5:
A/N: I can't believe I started writing on this again, but I did, so here it is. Please feel free to let me know what you think.
-/
Ezra and Sam's bickering gave way to an uncharacteristic and uneasy silence, as they drove from the Denver Federal building to Ezra's posh two bedroom apartment. They drove to a high set of metal gates, where Ezra leaned out his window to punch a sequence of numbers into a key pad. The gates rolled open soundlessly, and they drove through and parked.
Sam extricated herself slowly from the low riding Jag. The day had already been long and stressful, even before the bomb. Every injury she'd sustained over the last four days screamed anew. She straightened while gritting her teeth, her right hand wrapped protectively around her ribs.
Lips thin, Ezra watched her every move, even though she wasn't aware of it. Sam started for his front door without waiting for him. She knew the way, and given her current top cruising speed, she figured he could catch up.
The southerner fell in step beside her quickly. His doorman stood waiting, and testament to the man's professionalism, or maybe owing to the fact this wasn't the first battered houseguest he'd seen Ezra bring home, he didn't even give Samantha's condition a second glance. "Mr. Standish," he greeted him with a nod.
"Evening Saul," Ezra returned.
They made their way to the far end of the foyer, to the bank of elevators. Sam leaned against the wall and held out her hand. "I'm fine you know, you don't have to escort me up. You've done your due diligence."
"Excuse me?" Ezra queried after he pressed the Up button.
"I know you've got to get back. Just give me a key and I can make my way from here."
"A key?" Ezra had to stop himself from shifting uncomfortably. This bordered on eerily reminiscent of his conversations with Vanessa as of late. Of course this time, he was actually considering it, a fact he was sure his paramour would object to, vehemently.
Sam bit down on the inside of her lip. She would not let him bait her. "Yeah Ez, a key. You know, it's a shiny thing, little, usually metal, so I can get in and out of your apartment?"
"I'm not sure any plan for oft comings and goings would be wise at this juncture. When Mr. Larabee ordered that you room in my abode, I believe his idea was that you would STAY inside, and out of harm's way. In which case, I would think that a key would be highly unnecessary."
"You don't actually expect me to just stay locked up in your apartment?" Sam huffed.
"Actually that is exactly what I expect," Ezra replied. "Besides, where exactly do you feel you might need to be going?"
"I don't know, out." It was a grumpy, petulant kind of answer, but it suited the moment.
"Out? The simple gross generality of that statement tells me you've no idea." He smirked, looking up as the numbers above the elevators winked downward.
"Damn it Ezra, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."
Ezra's head jerked in her direction. "Apparently not well enough," he snapped. He jammed the elevator button once more with his thumb. Anger coursed through his blood, and it took real effort to keep it from washing over his features. It threatened to seep through his very pores, anger at Sam, anger for what had happened, anger toward whoever had attacked her, and an almost irrational fury that he was being saddled with this extra burden. Sam's argument died on her lips. He was pissed, really and truly, and it wasn't something she was used to from the enigmatic southerner.
There was a soft ping, and the elevator doors slid open. Ezra stepped inside first without a word, not daring to look her in the face. They rode the elevator in silence, Sam allowing her head to rest against the cool metal wall, eyes shut. Her head throbbed like someone had stuffed a full drum line inside. Only the soft whir of the doors sliding open, and the promise of somewhere to sit, got Sam to move from that position. Ezra unlocked his door and held it for her, allowing Sam to shuffle inside past him. The apartment was exactly as she's remembered it, and she was struck, not for the first time that day, with the now all too familiar pang of regret. This place, these people, had felt like home once.
"You remember, I assume, the location of the guest bedroom?" The anger ebbed away, and he sought to replace it with aloofness.
"Yeah," she replied softly. Sam wandered slowly into the middle of the apartment, fingers trailing over the back of his sofa.
"The linens are fresh and I trust that you will find..." Ezra trailed off. It was obvious that she was no longer listening. She'd stopped dead in front of his end table, and her shoulders sagged.
She reached out reflexively, fingers hovering just shy of the framed photo. A lump caught in her throat, and she was more than a little surprised to feel tears sting at her eyes. "You kept it," she said, eyes never leaving the picture. God, but had she ever really been that happy?
"I happen to like that picture," Ezra answered quietly, echoing his sentiment of a few days prior. A few days, when the idea of running into Samantha Hunter had been the farthest thing from his mind. Now she was here, teetering on the edge of broken, and it hurt more than he thought it might.
Hot tears welled in Sam's eyes. She let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady herself. Strange, the difference a few days made. A few days, when running into the Seven had been the farthest thing from her mind, well, almost the farthest. And now, being here, it hurt just as much as she'd expected, maybe more.
"Ez..."
"Hunter..." They said in unison, trailing off.
Sam pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. The words died right there. "Mind if I take a shower?" she asked finally.
"Of course," he said, "after all, this is to be your abode for the foreseeable future."
Sam nodded. He didn't sound altogether thrilled, not that she blamed him. She turned to face him, thankful in that moment that her tears had retreated. "Thanks." Sam moved haltingly toward to spare bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, Ezra's guest room was sparsely but tastefully decorated. She sat heavily on the queen bed, sinking into the plush navy and gray down comforter. She laboriously untied the laces to her tennis shoes and then headed for the bathroom.
One look in the mirror, and Sam instantly realized why JD has been staring at her so agog. She looked like hell. Her clothes were filthy, and she shed them, ash and dirt falling slowly onto Ezra's tiled floor. Every exposed inch of skin had been coated in debris and black marks. Her hair stuck out at strange angles from her haphazard ponytail. But at least the swelling in her face had begun to recede, allowing her to at least peer out of both eyes.
She stood in the shower a long time, letting the steaming water sluice over her. A bath would have been preferable, but she wouldn't be able to soak for at least a couple of weeks, till the stitches came ot. Regardless, the water soothed her aching body and washed away all the grime and dirt. She wished it could wash away more.
Part of her was still there, when she stopped occupying her mind with anything else, when she closed her eyes. She'd been in plenty of crap situations, sure. Hell, most had something to do with Larabee and the rest of team 7, but this had been different. She'd been utterly alone, with no hope for backup. He could have killed her anytime, and the things he'd done instead...
The water slapped the back of her head and neck and Sam sucked in the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She turned off the water. Wrapped in Ezra's plush blue robe, Sam padded out to the living room, but it was empty. The realization struck her like a brick, a cold knot winding into her chest. She hadn't truly been alone since being kicked out of the van at the Denver ATF offices.
A note on the kitchen counter drew her attention. There, lying on a small square of yellow legal paper was a shiny silver apartment key. The note read, "This is not to suggest that I expect or encourage any sojourns on your own, but just in case. I will inform Saul that you will be staying here for the interim."
Sam palmed the key, a slight smile crossing her lips and moved toward the front door. It wouldn't take long to explore the building. Her fingers brushed over the door handle and she froze. Her heart hammered, loud enough to reverberate in her ears. Palm flat on the door, Sam leaned her head into the wood and forced out slow breaths. Then she reached out, locked the door's deadbolt and secured the safety chain. Tears stung her eyes for the third time that day and she turned away, leaving Ezra's key on the counter.
-/
The next two weeks passed with relative uneventfulness. The team had been assigned a new case, and had been spending many a long night preparing. Shipments of automatic weapons with military markers had been cropping up across the Western US. The numbers had been traced back to the base in Cheyenne Wyoming, and as the closest available ATF unit, Team 7 had been set to task.
JD and Buck had been making trips up to Cheyenne to work with local law enforcement to place wire taps on the base, while Nathan and Josiah poured over base personnel records, searching for anyone who might fit the profiler of a smuggler. Ezra and Vin were rarely in the office, running down leads from a number of Ezra's 'confidential sources'. It was one of those situations Chris preferred not to know too much, Ezra got the job done, and what Larabee didn't know, wouldn't hurt the team.
In any event, Samantha's attacker had virtually dropped off the radar. No threats, no signs, no one else close to Team 7 gone missing, though Chris had made sure Mary, Inez, Casey and Rain were kept carefully watched. Ezra and Sam, despite each of their protests had, as of yet, managed not to draw blood, and Hunter was playing by Chris' rules better than he would have expected.
That alone was enough to worry Vin. Sam had never been much for toeing the line. On the outside she appeared to be recovering well. The bruises had faded from deep purple and blue to lovely shades of yellow and green. Her ribs hurt less and Vin had accompanied her to the doctor the previous day to remove the stitches. But her eyes gave away the lie in her smile.
Vin glanced at his watch. Quitting hour, actually well past. In fact, Buck was the only other one left in the office, everyone else had cleared out to get ready to go to dinner, one of Team 7's traditions the night before any of them went undercover. Ezra, for some reason Vin still wasn't quite sure on, had begged off dinner that night. It didn't sit right with the sharpshooter, but then, Ez had been acting a mite strange for a couple of weeks. So Vin still had to run home, then swing by Ez's apartment to pick up Sam. He thought it would do her good to get out, she'd been bordering on hermit-like here lately. "Buck," Vin called across the bullpen, "It's as good as it's liable to get. So let's get."
"Now that is the best idea anyone's had around here all day," Buck said, grinning. He hit a few more keystrokes on his computer before shutting it down. They rode down the elevator together to the lobby. Buck hadn't taken two steps off the elevator when an irate looking, pretty brunette stepped out from behind the decorative ficus. The sound of her hand whipping across Buck's cheek made Vin start, Buck yelp and more than a couple people stop and stare.
"My roommate Buck?" she growled. "Seriously? Were we still dating when you go her number, or did you ask for it after you broke up with me?"
"Amy, darlin..." Buck started in his soothing drawl.
Little spots of red raised on her cheeks and her mouth dropped open a little. "My name is Ashley!" she screeched. She stared at him another moment, hands balled into fists at her sides, before turning on her heel and storming off as suddenly as she'd appeared.
Touching his cheek with one hand, Buck pointed after her with the other. "Do you believe that?"
A devilish smirk passed over Vin's lips. "So was that Wednesday brunette?"
"Oh shut it Tanner."
The two ATF agents crossed the lobby and left, entering the stairwell that led to the underground garage the building shared with the one beside it. Unbeknownst to either man, was their silent observer, who had watched the exchange with interest. Peering out over the magazine he held, he watched Vin and Buck leave, then rolled the magazine into a tube, stuffed it in his back pocket and followed the pretty brunette out onto the street.
-/
Ezra walked into his apartment. It still struck him as odd most days, to come home to a lit apartment, noise and activity. He'd been living alone a long time. Surprisingly however, Ezra found the change almost pleasant. Despite the frequent bickering, Hunter was proving to be a good roommate. She was respectful of his belongings and kept things tidy and organized. He'd also pleasantly discovered that she was more than a proficient cook, and more often than not there was a plate of food and a cold beer waiting when he arrived home. The takeout boxes that generally proliferated in his refrigerator had been replaced by fresh produce and meat.
That night though, there were no delectable odors to greet him, but then they each had dinner plans. Ezra felt more than a twinge of guilt for ditching out on the Team's customary dinner, but Vanessa had practically insisted. That series of text messages and emails at work had been annoying at best. Which was why Ezra meant to end it that night. It had gone too far, and for far too long. He didn't want to go undercover with that hanging over his head. He sighed quietly, it had to be done.
The TV was on, and Sam had her legs curled beneath her on the couch, her lower half encased in a blanket. It didn't seem to matter that it was the middle of June, she always had a blanket. She glanced briefly in his direction before wordlessly handing him a beer.
Ezra carefully folded his jacket over the back of his chair before he accepted the proffered beverage and sat beside her. Someone was dropping onions into a hot pot on the screen. "So you ever watch programming that doesn't have to do with food?" The question was largely rhetorical, so Sam just shrugged. "So when is my compatriot coming for your escort?"
Hunter hid a slight smile behind another mouthful of beer. "Vin should be here soon. Sure you can't convince Ms. Stick in the Mud to come along?"
"Vanessa," he said pointedly, "prefers to enjoy my company in private." Besides, he thought, I don't need an audience for the ensuing conversation.
"Uh huh." Hunter quirked an eyebrow.
"What exactly do you find offensive about Vanessa, if I may ask?"
She shrugged and took a long sip of her beer. Noncommittal, it was one of her more obvious tells. "Out with it Hunter."
"Well she was a royal bitch the first time we met."
Ezra nodded. "That is a reaction you tend to inspire in people."
"Hey!" She swatted his arm, but had the good grace to laugh. "But seriously?" She started to peel off the neck of her beer bottle with her thumb. "I mean, take it for what it's worth, but I've been staying here for two weeks now, which has given me plenty of time to see you together. But, when you're with her, you're someone else, someone I don't know, and not in a good way."
There came a knock on the door. Sam downed the rest of her beer in a long swallow. "That'd be Vin. I'll get it." Ezra didn't say a word.
Sam pulled open the front door and found herself face to face with a very obviously irate Agent Navarro. "Oh hey Vanessa, I thought you were..."
The dark haired woman pushed her way into the apartment, positively sneering at Sam as she did. "What bullshit was that last text Ezra?" She demanded. "And you're having beer? We're going to dinner. I don't like this."
Ezra stood, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well that much is glaringly obvious," he said drolly. "What exactly do you not like?" He heard the flint enter his voice, but he was past the point of caring.
"For one thing," she thrust a finger behind her, "the fact that she's still here. She's just making herself at home, like some parasite attaching itself to a host."
"Hey!" Sam sounded indignant.
"And you haven't said so much as a word to Larabee about it. She's fine, this guy has disappeared..."
Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighed. "I don't want to do this anymore." It came out before he could stop himself, the declaration that had long been lingering on his tongue. He'd be right earlier, it was past time.
"What?" Vanessa asked after a moment, shock reading all over her face.
"This," Ezra motioned between the two of them. "I do no wish to continue with this. Our occasional squabbles have escalated in recent weeks, and you know it."
"So you just want to end it? She shows up, throws a wrench in your life, and you just want to walk away?"
"Vanessa, this decision has nothing to do with the arrival of my beleaguered colleague. It has been on my mind and..."
"She's not your colleague Ezra!" Vanessa interrupted, yelling. "She left, abandoned the team. I am your colleague. I'm the one that's been here. Your relationship with me should at least register with you as being of slightly more importance."
"And to what relationship are you referring?" Ezra snapped in return. She was baiting him, and damn him but he was taking it. "You spend your nights here, and spend the days dutifully ignoring my existence. It was your idea to keep things quiet, you who has no interest in socializing with the others."
"What? Spend time drowning in beer and peanuts at that crappy bar? Or play cowboy out on Chris' ranch?" Ezra's face turned to stone and began to darken. "I don't want to spend my time with them, I choose to spend it with you. You're not like the rest of them."
"No," Ezra conceded. "I am not. But they are a part of who I am, an important part that you choose to gloss over. Ms. Hunter always managed to understand the value of everyone in that office, which is perhaps why she was so sorely missed." It was a dig, he knew, but she'd gone from attacking him, to attacking his family. That, would not do.
"Should I leave and come back later?" Sam's voice emanated from the doorway, where she stood, leaning one shoulder against the wall. "You know, maybe when you two are done having your little spat."
"Hunter," Ezra growled. This was not the time.
"What Ez? She seems to have a lot to say about me to you. But I'm not deaf honey," she looked at Vanessa and made a circling motion in the air with a finger, "small apartment."
"Sam..." He tried again. The two women faced each other. Ezra had seen similar expressions on fighting pit bulls once before. This was definitely not going according to plan.
"Yo Ez!" Vin's voice floated through the still open door. "You and Sammy fight like and old married couple. I can hear you from the eleva..." The sharpshooter stopped in his track just inside the door, when he caught sight of Vanessa. "Oh." Vin cocked his head to the side. "Well, that explains a lot."
"Mr. Tanner..."
"Ah hell Ez, it ain't none of my business."
"That's right," Vanessa voice was harsh, "it's not."
"Vanessa! Mr. Tanner, I assure you there is a perfectly reasonable explanation." Flustered. He was honestly flustered, it was an odd feeling.
"Which I'm sure I would love to hear, later. But we're going, right Sammy?" He wanted out, Ezra wanted them out, and he was certain Vanessa wanted both of them to burst into flames. Vin grabbed a hold of Samantha's arm and tried to steer her out the door.
Stormy green eyes never wavered from Vanessa. "Don't worry about locking up when you leave," she said, reaching into the pocket of her jeans. "I have a key." Her smile was vicious. Man but Josiah was right sometimes, fight in the dog indeed.
Ezra shut his eyes, oh hell. "Sammy!" Vin growled, giving her arm a sharp tug. THe lean sharpshooter shot Ezra an apologetic look, which the southerner returned with a soft shake of his head. Damage done. Vin shut the door behind them.
-/
It was late, and the members of Team 7 were the last patrons remaining in the eatery in Central Denver. Bellies full, they each sipped on their last beers, putting off the end of the day. Vin and Ezra would be taking off for Cheyenne in the morning, and the nervous apprehension hung in the air like a rain cloud. It wasn't a particularly new feeling for any of the men at the table, just a build up of energy. It was the kind of energy that kept them all sharp.
Their waitress, a cute, curly haired red head Buck had been flirting with most of the night, delivered their check. In her left hand, she also carried a plain package the size of a shoe box, wrapped in butcher paper.
Grinning, she said, "And a surprise for the birthday boy." She placed the box on the table in front of Buck.
Buck chuckled and ran a hand over his mustache. "Well that's sweet darlin' but it ain't my birthday."
She shrugged. "Huh. Well that's what the guy told me when he brought it in."
Buck exchanged a quick glance with Chris across the table. The black clad leader's face was stony, but he sat up a little straighter. Chris nodded once. Slowly, Buck peeled away the corner of the paper. JD, Vin and the others barely breathed. Nervous energy gave way to something deeper.
As soon as Buck pulled the top off the box he let out a yelp and pushed himself away from the table. "Holy shit!" Standing at his side, the red haired waitress screamed. Inside the box, the end wrapped in plastic and sealed with a rubber band, lay a human hand.
Chapter 4
I realize this has been more than forever to update, but please let me know what you think!