Ezra put the jag in park and turned off the engine but made no move to get out of the car. He knew he should since he was already late, but finding the motivation to exit the safety of his vehicle was getting harder every day. They never touched the jag. That would leave evidence of what was going on; no, instead, they lurked and waited until Ezra stepped out, closed the door, and hit the key fob lock.
It'd started three and a half weeks ago after the O'Malley case. He'd been loaned out to Team 2 because they'd needed an undercover specialist. It wasn't a deep undercover case, just a simple setup and weapons exchange that would have put the head of the O'Malley organization away for a long time. It wasn't anyone's fault it fell apart. It was just one of those times when the target must have sensed something coming. No one was hurt, and no one was threatened. O'Malley's team just didn't show up, leaving the ATF with circumstantial evidence and no legal way to make an arrest. Ezra had gone over every decision he had made, every conversation he had, and still, he could find nothing he'd done wrong. No obvious mistakes, and yet he still felt the weight of the failure, and that weight grew more momentous every day as Team 2 made it clear they also blamed him.
They jumped him the first time three days after everything was over. He stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage, and four of them stood waiting. He'd known by their expressions he was in trouble, and though he tried to maintain the cocky, self-assured attitude he was known for, they weren't having it. He'd fought back at first, but four against one are horrible odds. It didn't happen every day, and worse, it wasn't predictable. He never knew if they'd get him when he arrived for work or when he was leaving, at the saloon on Friday nights, dragging him behind the building, or…at home. It was the unpredictability that was wearing him down. He never knew. Like not touching the jag to avoid signs of the attacks, they avoided his head. None of the attacks were particularly brutal, just harsh and humiliating. Being held in place and pummeled. Hands, mostly fisted but sometimes open palms, smacking, they came at him in a flurry, fast and bruising. The worst was his shoulder. The wrenching as they'd pulled his arms back to hold him had dislocated the joint three times now. He always managed to get it popped back into place afterward, but the aches were constant now.
Ezra knew he should go to Chris and confide in him and the team. He knew they didn't blame him for the failed bust. He knew he could trust them, but he was so worn down and humiliated he couldn't bring himself to face them. He'd thought when it started that he could handle it. He'd figured the attackers would get it out of their systems, and things would get back to normal as he settled back in with Team 7, but instead, the attacks continued. And then the threats began. Not toward him, they carried those out; no, these threats were directed at the others. Now he was an anxious mess. What would his team think of his sheer weakness? He couldn't look at Larabee and let the man see how weak he really was. Chris. He would do anything for that man's respect. He thought of the small flirtations that had developed between them before this case. He thought Larabee was maybe as interested in him, cared as much for Ezra possibly as Ezra did for him, and yet…now. Now Ezra felt unworthy. He was not the kind of man Chris Larabee deserved.
"You gonna get out of the car any time today?"
Ezra jumped and stifled a scream. Kevin Jasper stood, leaning casually against the closest cement pillar, his arms crossed in front of him, a knowing smile that failed to reach his eyes. "You can't avoid me forever." His voice was muffled, but Ezra heard each word.
Ezra took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't avoid the confrontation. Slowly and stiffly, he climbed out of the jag. After locking it he turned to find Jasper had come closer. So close he nearly pinned Ezra to his car.
"You should know better." Jasper's smile widened.
"Please go away."
"Or what?"
Ezra saw the hand start to move.
"Hey, Ez! Jasper!" Both men turned at the sudden greeting. Buck Wilmington stood at the end of the jag. "Y'all okay?" his face was creased with concern.
Ezra stood straighter as Jasper backed up a step. "Absolutely, Mr. Wilmington. Agent Jasper was just filling me in on some information I need to add to my report." Ezra looked up at Jasper, "I'll get that email to you this afternoon."
"Appreciate it." Jasper nodded once to Ezra and then to Buck. "See you later," he called over his shoulder as he walked away.
Buck watched him walk away and then turned back to Ezra. "That looked kind of tense."
Ezra shook his head, brushing the incident off. "He gets like that. Nothing to it." His answer seemed to appease Wilmington because he smiled wider and nodded. "Okay then, let's get upstairs, we're late, and I really hope Chris is in a good mood."
Buck chatted all the way up to the Team 7 offices, and Ezra hoped he was responding appropriately and in the right places because he wasn't hearing a word. His head pounded in time with the throbbing in his shoulder, and he couldn't seem to focus on anything except trying to maintain a calm, normal facade. He was pretty sure he wasn't succeeding. Thankfully Buck was distracted as they entered the office, immediately starting a fight with JD over a box of powdered donuts. Ezra smiled despite himself. Chris was standing in the doorway of his office. He looked at Ezra with a raised eyebrow and then down at his watch. Ezra shrugged and smiled through the stinging pain the action caused. Larabee simply shook his head and turned back into his office.
As Ezra settled in at his desk he could feel Vin watching him. "Good morning Ez." Tanner greeted quietly. Ezra looked up and smiled.
"Morning, Mr. Tanner."
"You okay this morning?"
"Of course." Ezra nodded, wondering how much longer he would be able to keep up the act in front of these men. He'd allowed them in just enough that he now worried they'd see through his it all. They knew him, and that worried him.
Vin didn't respond, just watched him for a few moments. "Noticed you're favoring your shoulder. You hurt it again?"
Ezra nodded. "Misjudged the bathroom doorway last night and just smacked it good. Nothing major." he lied.
"The doorway?" Vin asked incredulously.
Ezra half grinned. "I hadn't turned on the light."
Vin shook his head, and Ezra didn't know if it was because Tanner didn't believe him or because he thought Ezra was a clutz. "Better not let Nathan hear that."
Ezra shot a glance over at the team medic, noting Jackson was deep in conversation on the phone already this morning. A feeling of relief flashed through him.
"You got a headache again?" Vin went on, prodding.
"One's starting, yeah," Ezra admitted.
"You've been having a lot of those this month." Tanner tapped a pencil on the desk, and Ezra knew he was in trouble. His history of migraines had worked well for him this month, but the frequency of them in a short time period was obviously garnering more attention than he'd like. He shrugged again.
"Doctor gave me a prescription." He admitted.
"So, you went to the Doctor about your head but not your shoulder?"
Shit.
Ezra tried to keep his tone even. He met Tanner's questioning gaze. "The shoulder just happened last night." He reminded.
Vin nodded and swept his long hair back out of his face. "Right." he grinned. Thankfully for Ezra, Vin's phone rang. Tanner eyed it reluctantly for a moment, glanced back at Ezra, and then reached for the phone.
Chris stood in his office, watching the others through the window, blinds half closed. Josiah would ask him why he was 'spying' on them and not just standing out in the open, but he wouldn't have an answer. Sometimes he just wanted to observe them all without them knowing. He could find out more of what was going on that way. He watched as Vin greeted Ezra and then focused on their body language as they talked. Something was up. Vin wasn't aggressive, and Ezra wasn't obviously defensive, but something was going on. He could see the concern in Vin's expression and the tension through Ezra's back. Chris knew Vin was worried about the Southerner. So was he.
They'd all raised concerns to Chris throughout the last two weeks. They'd noticed the growing reserve, the weight loss, and the tension Ezra tried so hard to hide. It reminded them all too much of what Standish had been like when he'd first joined the team. Closed off and hid behind strong solid walls to protect himself. What was driving Ezra back behind those walls? Chris scratched at the back of his head, trying to figure it out. Things had started to deteriorate after the O'Malley case with Team 2, but no one blamed Ezra for what happened. Chris had talked with Wilson, the team leader, and come away from the meeting assured that no one thought Ezra was at fault. Larabee rubbed at his chest, trying to push back the worry. He needed to find a way to talk with Standish. This thing that they'd been dancing around, these feelings, he wanted to express them. He wanted Ezra. He wanted Ezra to know how much he cared about him. He just didn't know how to make the first move. Sighing, Chris turned and went back to his desk.
It wasn't long before there was a soft knock on the doorway into his office. He looked up as Vin entered, not waiting for an invitation. "Ezra's got another headache." He said simply.
"He admitted that?" Chris sat back in his chair, turning it slightly to see around Vin into the main area. He could just see Ezra's back but nothing more.
"More or less." Vin sat on the arm of the black leather couch across from Larabee's desk. "Said the doctor gave him meds, but he's had a lot this month, it seems."
"Yeah." Chris directed his gaze back at Vin, and Tanner smiled, shaking his head.
"You've got it bad." He teased.
"Shut up." Chris said without any sting.
Vin chuckled. Chris had 'confessed' his feelings about Standish to him not that long ago, and since then, he'd encouraged and tried to push Larabee along to take some action to act on his feelings. He watched Ezra every day and could tell the feelings were reciprocated. He cared about both men deeply and wished they weren't so stubborn.
After a minute of silence, Chris stood up and walked out to Ezra's desk.
"Vin says you've got another headache." He scowled when Ezra jumped, startled at his sudden presence. "You okay?"
"Fine, I'm…"
Chris glared a little.
Ezra deflated. "I do have a headache."
"Why don't you go on home and get some rest? It's a light day."
Ezra started to protest but then thought of his aching body. He could use the rest. "You're sure?"
"Yeah," Chris smiled. "You're sure you're okay?"
Standing, Ezra swayed a little, and Chris reached out to steady him. Ezra deftly shifted out of reach. "Of course, Mr. Larabee. I'm always okay." he smiled.
Ezra left the office quickly, not realizing that the six men remaining watched him closely as he left. When they heard the elevator ding, they turned to look at Chris. "What's going on, Chris?" Josiah asked quietly, his voice thick with concern.
"I don't know," Chris admitted. "I don't know."
Ezra was thankful he made it back to the jaguar and was on the road home without incident. No one stopped him or cornered him. God, he felt like an idiot. What was he going to do? He drove home on autopilot, entered his apartment, and locked the door securely behind him. He felt a little lost being home in the late morning. His body aches seemed to intensify as he stood there, and he decided on a bath. Epsom salt bath should help; it usually did. He wondered if the store clerk ever questioned why he purchased so much Epsom salt. He took his time, running the hot bath, pouring in the salt, and swishing it around so it'd dissolve. Slowly he undressed, not allowing himself to look at his reflection. He couldn't see the bruising again. He put his phone down on the small stand he kept beside the tub for easy access and stepped into the near-scalding water, sitting and then sank down, trying to get as much of his torso underwater as possible. His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. Maybe in a bit, he'd order pizza, he thought; pizza sounded good to him today.
"Afternoon, Judge!" JD greeting Judge Travis exuberantly as the other agents quickly sat up a little straighter and reached for paperwork and phones, and tried to look productive. "What are you doing here today?" Dunne asked bluntly. His dark hair flipped into his eyes and pushed it back quickly as Buck hissed at him to shut up.
"Meeting with Chris." was Travis' only explanation as he marched directly into Larabee's office and closed the door.
"He looks pissed." Vin whispered.
"Yes he does." Nathan shook his head. This didn't bode well.
Chris looked up in surprise as Travis came into his office and closed the door behind him. The older gentleman stood for a moment, like he was trying to calm himself down but Larabee could tell the judge was furious.
"I miss a meeting?" Chris asked, glancing down at his desk calendar.
"No. I'm here about Standish."
Chris looked up, eyes narrowing. "What about Ezra? He do something?"
Travis shook his head and sat down on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You're not going to like this."
"I already don't. What the hell is going on, Judge?"
"I just had a call from security. It seems the garage cameras have been down for the last month or so. They just got them back up and running last week. Figured out they'd been messed with."
"Messed with?" Chris sat back and crossed his arm. "How so?"
"Too much mumbo jumbo for me to understand. All I know is they weren't working, and now they are." Travis sat back, mirroring Chris. "You know we don't watch the feeds live. They're recorded and watched back when there's an issue."
"Right." Chris confirmed he knew this.
"Well, since they'd been down and purposefully knocked out, security decided to go over the last week of viable footage to see if they could figure out what was going on. Why would someone knock the cameras out?"
"Get to the point, Judge. What does this have to do with Ezra?" Chris felt his worry mounting.
"Team 2 has been "harassing" him." Judge motioned, using air quotes to emphasize harassing.
Chris stood up. "Explain." He demanded. 'What do you mean, harassing?"
Travis looked up. "Sit down, Chris."
"No."
"Chris."
"Spit it out, Travis."
The judge looked slightly annoyed by Chris' tone but not surprised. "They've been jumping him in the garage. At least four times this week in, leaving for the day. Sometimes even at lunch."
Chris dropped back into the chair. "What?" His voice wavered. "They've been beating him up? Why didn't he come to us?"
Travis ran a hand over his face, his expression weary. "Chris, I pulled them in and had a chat." He met Chris' look. "They threatened your team."
"My…" Chris shook his head as if dazed. "My team? Ezra knows we can hold our own. Why would he not?" Chris stopped and glanced out into the main office. His eyes scanned over each man. They would do anything to protect each other, the men on his team. He knew Ezra would as well, even if that meant sacrificing himself. "What were their threats?" He whispered the question, already knowing.
"According to Wilson, the culprits admitted that they told Standish they'd make sure everyone in the ATF found out that the reason Team 7 was so successful was because you were all dirty."
"God Damn it!" Chris jumped up and grabbed the closest thing within reach. He threw it at the far wall. His stapler went half through the drywall and stuck there. He saw Buck and Vin jump up from their desks. The others now watching with concern.
"What happened?" Vin was the first in the door. "What happened to Ezra?"
Chris couldn't answer. He was seething. Of course, they would threaten the team with rumors to make them look dirty. Everyone knew Ezra's history with the FBI. How he'd been set up and the rumors of being on the take had driven him out. Nearly destroyed him. Team 2 had played on the one thing they knew would paralyze Ezra with fear and target his insecurities. He would do anything to avoid making any member of Team 7 go through that same hell he'd suffered in Atlanta. He could hear the judge quietly ushering Vin back out to the office. He could hear the clipped, calm tones as the Judge explained again what had been happening. Chris' heart was racing. He couldn't listen to it again. He closed his eyes, but all he could see were images of Ezra moving slowly, stiffly. Explaining away headache after headache, answering prodding questions with simple half-truths meant to distract and deflect.
He needed to get to Ezra.
Ezra glanced at the wall clock and sighed. He'd placed an online order for pizza a bit ago and knew he needed to get out of the tub. It'd be here soon, and the water was cooling rapidly. Grunting, he carefully pulled himself out of the water, careful not to use his bad arm. Gingerly he dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed into the bedroom. The bath had succeeded in knocking the pain down to a dull ache. He could handle that. He pulled on a pair of underwear and grabbed a pair of black sweatpants. They weren't his silky lounging pajamas, but they were soft and comfy, and he may or may not have stolen them from Chris the last time the guys had ended up crashing at Larabee's ranch after a night of drinking. They were big on him, loose, riding low on his hips despite the elastic and the tie, but they stayed up. They were long but not too long; the elastic around the cuffs allowed him not to trip. More than any of that, they were Chris'. Something about wearing them made Ezra feel safe. The doorbell rang as he was pulling the sweats on. The pizza was here. He'd chosen contactless delivery, so he wasn't in any rush to get to the door, but he was annoyed when the doorbell sounded again and thirty seconds later, again.
"Geez." He rushed out for the door, forgoing a shirt in his haste. Distracted and annoyed he unlocked the door and flung it open without checking the peephole to confirm who it was.
He froze. Larabee stood there with Ezra's pizza.
Ezra's heart was in his throat and racing so fast he was sure the entire neighborhood could hear it. He couldn't do anything but stare. "Wha…"
Chris stood in shock. His eyes roamed Standish's sculpted chest and abs from bruise to bruise until finally back up to meet Ezra's fear-filled eyes.
All Ezra saw was rage. He stumbled back a step, giving Larabee a way in.
Chris walked into the apartment and pulled the door gently out of Ezra's grasp, closing it and locking it behind him. He walked over to the dining area and tossed the pizza down on the table, ignoring it as it slid halfway across. He turned and rested back against the edge of the table.
Ezra turned slowly to face him.
"Were you just going to let this go on indefinitely?" Chris' voice was a harsh, demanding whisper.
Ezra faltered. "I…" He couldn't look at Chris any longer. He couldn't be there. He couldn't see the disappointment and anger in Larabee's eyes. He…couldn't. Instead of answering, Ezra turned and headed toward the bedroom.
Chris thought he was ready for a confrontation with Ezra, but nothing had prepared him for the moment Standish opened the door. He stood them in sweats that Chris recognized as his own, Ezra wore nothing else. The sweats rode low on Ezra's hips, but Chris was too distracted by the bruising to be aroused.
Ezra's entire torso was a canvas of purple and yellow, green and black. Chris felt his anger boil at the thought of another man's hands on Standish. Angry hands, fast hands that had beaten and abused Ezra, and Ezra had never said a word. He wanted to erase every mark, every hurt. He watched Ezra turn, looking for an escape.
Chris was faster. He skirted around Ezra and blocked his path, filling the hallway.
"Mr. Larabee." Ezra stepped forward, but Chris moved toward him and forced him back, effectively turning him and advancing until Ezra was back against the hallway wall. Ezra swallowed and closed his eyes. He felt the tension and coiled rage emanating from Larabee.
Chris didn't shove him into the wall; just kind of cornered him, not allowing him to escape or avoid. Ezra recognized the moment Chris' breath hitched and knew Chris saw the dent in the wall just behind Ezra's head. He knew Chris was realizing that his attackers had been inside his home. He tried not to flinch when he felt Chris's hand. Touching. Chris' long fingers grasped the back of his neck. His palm was warm on the side of Ezra's face, and his thumb rested on Ezra's cheekbone. Ezra tried not to tremble, but he knew he was failing.
"Look at me," Chris said softly, but Ezra couldn't. If he looked at him, Chris would see everything in his eyes. He'd see how much Ezra wanted him. How much Ezra cared what he thought of him in return. He couldn't.
Fingers tightened slightly on the back of his neck. "Ezra, look at me." it was half a plea and half a demand. Ezra couldn't ignore the plea. Slowly he opened his eyes. He couldn't focus on the closeness of Chris's face. He couldn't bear to recognize the emotions he might see in Chris' eyes when he knew he couldn't hide the ones his own. God, he loved this man so much, but he was so ashamed of being so weak.
"Ezra." It was only a breath, and Ezra closed his eyes again.
Chris's thumb slid along his cheekbone and skirted over his lips. Slowly the touch continued down over Ezra's chin before it stopped. Ezra's breath hitched as Chris's hand shifted and ghosted slowly down his neck. He felt the soft, light touch of Chris's calloused fingertips as he ran them ever so slowly across Ezra's collarbone. The touch got lighter as fingers skimmed over the abused shoulder joint, and Ezra shivered as he felt Chris's palm over his heart. He was so distracted by the warm pressure he didn't realize Chris had brought his other hand up and wrapped it around the back of his neck until Chris pressed lightly, and Ezra tipped his head forward. Chris matched the move and rested his forehead against Ezra's. The hand over Ezra's heart began to move again.
Ezra blinked and watched the hand as Chris gently slid his palm over each bruise. It wrapped around Ezra's side and moved down. He heard Chris's sharp intake of breath when his thumbs traced the stark purple bruising along Ezra's hips where one of his assailants held him as they pressed him back against the wall, whispering horrible, debasing threats. Ezra's control slipped away. He barely had any to start with, and now he stood, trembling under Chris's touch. Then Chris whispered again.
"Did they break you?"
Ezra's breath hitched in a sob he couldn't swallow back, and Chris looked up at him before he could close his eyes. Ezra stares at the tears he sees. Chris didn't wait for an answer.
"Let me put you back together." Both hands moved to frame his face. "Please." Chris pleaded even as his lips pressed against Ezra's.
Ezra lost the ability to stand, and Chris followed him down. Arms wrapped around him, and he was being held. Chris's lips kissed the top of his head, and he felt Chris's hands as they now roamed over the bruises on his back. Slow hands slid over battered skin and muscles. Ezra allowed himself to sink into the healing touches and let go.