Exiting the debriefing room, where he'd run through the details of his most recently completed assignment, Ezra's mind buzzed with the details of it. It was a role that had required him to convincingly portray a gay man to extract crucial information. He'd been able to convince his mark he was interested in him and over the course of several "dates", the man had lowered his guard and Ezra had been able to get the information they needed to make arrests.
Adjusting his tie with precision, he strode through the corridors of the Federal building to the elevator that would take him to the underground parking garage. Just like the job, the day was finished, and Ezra was eager to slip into his Jag and get home.
The harsh fluorescent lights flickered ominously as he stepped out of the elevator into the dimly lit garage. Ezra's senses tingled with unease, a nagging feeling gnawing at the back of his mind.
Approaching his car, a group of men he recognized as agents assigned to other AFT teams materialized from the shadows. Their expressions were tight with suspicion. Ezra's pulse quickened, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as their accusing gazes bore into him.
"Where you going? Got a hot date, Standish?" one of them sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "You seem to have gotten a bit too comfortable with your last assignment, if you ask me."
Ezra's jaw clenched, but he kept his composure. With his back to the Jag and the three men in front of him, he knew he didn't have anywhere to go. "I don't see that it should be your concern?" he retorted, his voice calm but laced with a hint of defiance.
Another man stepped forward, his eyes narrow with suspicion. "We've seen the way you've been carrying on, Standish. Don't think we haven't noticed. You're not even trying to deny it." The man took another menacing step forward. "You're playing a dangerous game, and sooner or later, it's going to catch up with you."
Ezra raised an eyebrow, his mind racing for a response that would deflect the implied threat. "Again, how is any of this your concern?" he repeated, his tone carefully neutral.
The third man stepped closer, his expression darkening with anger. "We don't need or want your kind around here."
"My kind?" Ezra parroted, pointing to himself. His gaze flickered to the security cameras mounted on the walls of the garage, a silent reminder of the eyes that were watching their every move. "Perhaps you should take a moment to consider your actions," he suggested, his voice calm but firm. "After all, we wouldn't want any misunderstandings to arise, would we?"
The agents exchanged wary glances, their confidence faltering under Ezra's steady gaze. They seemed to hesitate, the tension thickening in the air as they weighed their next move.
Just as Ezra dared to hope the men would back down and let him go, the moment shattered. Without warning, one of them lunged forward, his fist connecting with Ezra's jaw with brutal force. Pain exploded through Ezra's senses, his head spinning as he staggered backward, banging into the side of his car.
Instinct kicked in, and Ezra fought back, his training taking over as he tried to fend off his attackers, but they were relentless, their blows raining down on him with savage intensity. Outnumbered three to one, he was soon on the ground and all he could do was try to protect himself as best he could.
As the assault intensified, Ezra's thoughts became a blur, each strike a harsh reminder of the danger he faced. He gritted his teeth against the pain as fists and feet made repeated contact with his ribs, midsection, and face.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the attack ceased. Ezra lay battered and bruised on the cold concrete floor, his assailants retreating into the shadows like ghosts. Alone and hurting, he struggled to gather his wits. His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of pain and confusion.
He pulled himself up to lean against his Jag. Blood ran from his lip and from a small laceration just above his left eyebrow. His midsection ached from the fists that had pummeled it, and his ribs screamed a reminder of the fists and feet that battered them. He didn't know how he was going to make it up off the ground and into his car, let alone being able to drive home.
Moments later he heard the sound of footsteps and laughter. When he heard voices, he recognized that it was Buck and JD. If only they'd been just a few minutes earlier, they probably would have been able to save him a world of hurt.
Ezra knew the moment they saw him. Their steps faltered for just a second as they stared in shock, then they quickly came over to him.
"Ezra, what the hell happened.?" Buck demanded, his voice laced with concern.
Ezra winced and held out a hand for his friend to help him up, his body protesting with each movement. "It appears some of our fellow agents took issue with my recent assignment," he replied evasively, his tone guarded. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his lip. "They seemed convinced that 'my kind' is unwanted around here." The way he spoke, put mental quotations around the words 'my kind'.
JD's brow furrowed in confusion as he remembered what Ezra's last assignment was. The insinuation didn't add up to what he knew about Ezra.. "But that doesn't make any sense. You were just playing a role, right?"
Ezra's gaze dropped to the ground, a mixture of pain and frustration clear in his expression. "Does it truly matter, JD?" he deflected, his words tinged with bitterness.
JD looked at Buck, hoping he could explain what Ezra's cryptic answer meant. The most Buck provided as an answer was a small shrug.
"We need to get you some medical attention, Ezra," Buck stated firmly reminding them all of the issue at hand. This wasn't the time to dwell on uncertainties. He led Ezra to the elevator that would take them back upstairs to Team Seven's office. JD mutely followed.
The three men road the elevator in silence as they were all lost in their own thoughts: Ezra was bewildered by what had just happened. He'd never been the victim of someone else's prejudices and the suddenness of it rocked him.
JD and Buck were both curious about what Ezra wasn't saying and why he'd neither deny nor confirm what he'd just been accused of. When the elevator chimed at the eleventh floor, they were all startled by it.
The three men exited the elevator and made their way back to the office.
"What the hell happened?" Chris asked, his voice edged with urgency when he saw the condition Ezra was in.
Nathan wasted no time in ushering Ezra to a nearby chair before grabbing the first aid kit he kept in his desk. His medical instincts kicked into gear as he assessed the extent of his friend's injuries. With practiced hands, he began to clean and dress the wounds, his movements gentle but efficient.
Buck glanced at Ezra, silently deferring to him to explain. Ezra took a deep breath, steeling himself to recount the events of the evening. "Some of our fellow agents had a problem with my recent assignment," he began, his voice steady but tinged with bitterness. "They didn't take too kindly to my role."
Chris's gaze fell on Ezra, his expression grave. "You need to make a report, Ezra," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
Ezra's jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "I'm not sure that's necessary," he replied evasively, his reluctance clear. He knew a report meant more people would know about what happened. In his opinion, the less people who knew about it, the better.
Chris's demeanor hardened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We can't let this go unpunished, Ezra," he insisted, his voice unwavering. "And besides, there are cameras in the garage. They would have recorded everything. Even if you don't want to make a report, it's all on video."
Ezra's jaw tightened, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Fine," he relented, his tone clipped. "If you're so intent on filing a report, why don't you watch the recordings yourself then you can be responsible for it."
Chris nodded grimly. "If that's what you want. I can't force you to tell me what happened, but I also can let this go." He started walking to the doorway, stopped, and turned back. "Get him patched up, Nathan."
As he watched Chris leave, Ezra couldn't shake the sense of vulnerability that washed over him. Being the victim of someone's hate left him feeling exposed and powerless, the scars of the attack a painful reminder of the prejudice that still lurked beneath the surface. He was consumed by a mix of anger, fear, and uncertainty, unable to see beyond the immediate turmoil. He squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment trying to wish it all away. When he opened his eyes, it was to Nathan's concerned face. No amount of wishing was going to change what happened.
M7 M7 M7 M7 M7 M7 M7
As Nathan meticulously tended to Ezra's wounds, JD sought solace in the wise counsel of Josiah, his troubled thoughts spilling forth in a torrent of confusion and concern. "Josiah," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he recounted the unsettling encounter in the garage, "I just don't understand why Ezra didn't just say they were wrong and tell 'em the truth."
Josiah regarded JD with a patient understanding, his gentle gaze offering a sense of reassurance amid the turmoil. "JD," he replied, his tone calm yet resolute, "the truth of those accusations is irrelevant. If what they said is true, does that make Ezra any less of an agent? Is he any less of a friend?"
JD furrowed his brow, his mind grappling with the weight of Josiah's words. "If they are true," he persisted, his voice laced with uncertainty, "does that mean I've misjudged him? Does it mean he's not the person I thought he was?"
Josiah placed a comforting hand on JD's shoulder, his touch a tangible reminder of the unwavering support that surrounded them. "JD," he said softly, "true friendship is not contingent on things like sexual orientation. It's rooted in acceptance, understanding, and the willingness to stand by each other, no matter the circumstances. It's also rooted in respecting the boundaries of others and what they do and do not share. So, again I ask: if Ezra is gay, does that mean the friendship ends."
As JD absorbed Josiah's words, a sense of clarity began to emerge from the fog of doubt. "No. I guess not, Josiah. Ezra would still be…Ezra. I guess it really doesn't matter…and I guess he doesn't owe us an answer."
"Good man," Josiah said as he clapped JD on the shoulder.
With JD's mind eased by Josiah's wisdom, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
As Nathan finished patching up Ezra, the atmosphere in the room remained heavy with unspoken questions and lingering tension.
Ezra's thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal by his fellow agents, the sting of their accusations cutting deeper than any physical wound. Yet, amidst the pain and uncertainty, he found solace in the unwavering support of his teammates.
As Chris completed the paperwork for the formal complaint, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. This wasn't just about Ezra's physical well-being; it was about standing up against prejudice and injustice, both within their own ranks and beyond.
With the formalities concluded, the team dispersed, each lost in their own thoughts and reflections.