Full Exposure

By: Judi, KRH, and Lady Angel

"Chris! Chris!" JD called out to the black clad man striding down the sidewalk towards him. Pulling to a halt after he had gotten the teamleader's attention, JD racked his brain to think of a way to delay the man. While waiting for Chris to close the gap between them, he could see the dark waves of anger hanging like thunder clouds on Chris' face. Swallowing hard, the youngest member of the illustrious Magnificent Seven had to fight the overwhelming urge to turn and run like hell.

"Did you find Tanner and Standish?" Chris snarled, as he halted in front of the younger man.

Swallowing, JD cleared his throat. "Sorta."

"Sorta?" Larabee asked incredulously.

"Well, I found Buck... who saw Josiah... who talked to... someone....who saw them," JD said, fumbling to find the words and stalling for time.

Pinning JD with his gaze, Chris sighed heavily. "JD, you left with Buck. So how the hell did you *find* him?"

"We were looking for Vin and Ezra, cause we knew you wanted to talk to 'em, when Buck found this lady that he knew from several years ago. They started talking and flirting and stuff and then she asked him to help her carry something to her car. . . .And, well, you know Buck. . .he *couldn't* tell her no. . .so he headed off and then I. . . ," JD trailed off as Chris dropped his head and held up his hand for the younger man to stop his rambling.

"Where's Buck now?" Chris asked, blowing out an exasperated breath. This was getting worse instead of better. Now he was missing three agents instead of two.

"He's looking for Vin and Ezra like we planned to do," JD said innocently, as if he had not just spent the last several minutes relaying a totally bogus tale.

"*Where* is Buck looking?" Chris asked, impatience evident in his voice. When JD shrugged as it to say he didn't know, Larabee stared down the street, while the muscles in his jaws rippled from clenching his teeth. Finally pinning JD with his eyes again, Chris' tone was a deadly whisper when he asked "Just tell me that one of you bothered to look in the gallery the dynamic duo *said* they were going to?"

When the only response he got from Dunne was the mute opening and closing of his mouth like a fish gasping for air, Chris couldn't stop the growl that escaped his lips before he brushed by his youngest agent.

Panicking at the thought that Chris might actually go into the studio, JD darted in front of Chris and planted himself on the sidewalk in front of him. "Chris, wait," Dunne said. In desperation, JD threw all caution to the wind and placed his hand on the older man's chest to emphasis the need for him to do as he had requested.

"Look, I know this may not be the best time, but there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. And since the others aren't around, well...," JD said pensively, watching as Chris reacted to the seriousness of his tone. As Chris curbed his anger and waited, JD licked his lips nervously and let his hand fall back to his side. Knowing there was no backing down now, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet as if preparing for a fight. "It affects the whole team, so I've been kinda hesitant to bring it up."

"What is it JD? What's wrong?" Chris asked, all thoughts of finding the others vanishing from his mind as he read the somberness of JD's countenance and the change in his stance. Whatever was on the young man's mind must be important.

When JD didn't answer right away, Chris nudged him a little. "Hey, look, you know I always listen, right?" Waiting until he got an answering nod, he continued. "Okay, then, tell me what's wrong so we can work it out."

"I don't want to be rat or get anyone in trouble or anything like that...," Dunne started cautiously, then trailed off as if struggling to decide if he should actually say what was on his mind.

"JD, if there's a problem on the team, I need to know about it now, *before* we get out in the field and it flares up and somebody ends up getting hurt. Nobody is going to think you're a rat for making sure that doesn't happen. Now, tell me what's on your mind."

"Well, ever since Vin lost that bet to Ezra," JD paused, licking his lips again with a tongue that had suddenly gone dry.

"Yes?" Chris encouraged softly.

"Ever since Vin lost that bet to Ezra... those two," JD shifted nervously, trying to come up with the right words. Taking a deep breath, he continued, the words tumbling out. "Those two won't quit talking. I mean, with Ez on my right and Vin on my left, geez, I can't get anything done cause those two are constantly babbling about something. So, I think we need to rearrange the desks."

The absolutely stunned expression on Chris Larabee's face spoke volumes. His brain was having difficulty getting itself wrapped around what he had just heard. Moving desks was the last thing he had expected to come out of the agent's mouth. He was literally speechless.

Chris shook his head several times before finally giving up. Pointing at JD, Larabee simply muttered, "We'll talk about this later," before again brushing past the man in front of him and continuing on his search. He had only taken a few steps when a gunshot from the art gallery a short distance away jump-started him into action. Yanking out his gun, he paused at the doorway preparing to enter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Damnit Ezra! The one time we needed you to shoot straight. . . ."

"Is it my fault you moved?"

"Is it my fault Buck screams like a girl?"

"Listen here, Junior, I was only trying to warn ya that Chris was coming!"

"Well, you didn't have to screech like a goddamn banshee!"

"*Banshee*? And what, pray tell, would you know about Irish apparitions?"

"Just 'cause I didn't go to some fancy smanchy boarding school don't mean I'm totally clueless!"

"No, it only means that your speech is atrocious!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, this whole thing is your damn fault! Cowboy's gonna kill us and it's your fault! If you hadn't made that damn bet. . . ."

"Well no one forced you to take it! I do *not* recall holding a gun to your head!"

The Texan and the Southerner squared off. They stood toe to toe, both doing their best impersonations of the "Larabee glare."

"BOYS!"

All heads turned at the deep chastizing voice.

"We don't have time for this!" Josiah raked his eyes over his friends.

"Ezra's still got one shot left, we can still. . ." Nathan started but was interrupted by Buck.

"NO! There's no time! We gotta get the hell outta here!" Buck was starting to panic. "I'm too young to die! Hell! There are still plenty of ladies out there I haven't. . .ah. . .uhm. . .met, yet!"

"SHUT UP, BUCK!" The Texan and Southern accents blended together perfectly.

"Whatever you boys are planning to do, you'd better. . ." Josiah stopped cold, as a strange creaking sound permeated the air.

"What the hell?" Nathan's gaze raked the room, searching for the source of the sound. His eyes widened when he saw it.

In front of Chris's very large, very revealing photograph stood a seventeen-foot sculpture. Made of paint, wood, metal and jagged edges, the abstract piece of art precariously balanced itself on one *wooden* leg.

"What the hell?" Buck echoed Nathan's earlier words as the five men warily approached the mass of twisted and protruding metal. The five men leaned in, closely examining the wooden leg.

"It looks as if. . .as if it's been nicked." Nathan looked at the small tale-tell scar on the dark wood.

"By a bullet," Buck confirmed Nathan's observation with a grim nod of his head.

"Ezra's bullet." Vin pointed an accusing finger at the perpetrator. "You're gonna haftha. . ."

"OH SHIT! LOOK OUT!"

Ezra had looked up just in time to see the metal monstrosity dangerously listing to one side. Moving quickly, the undercover agent grabbed his friends, pulling them out of harm's way. The five men scrambled away from the danger, skidding to a stop and gaping at the still falling giant.

CRASH!

Vin, Buck, Ezra, Josiah, and Nathan stood gawking at the rather painful sight before them. The metal eyesore had fallen right into the twenty-foot portrait of Chris Larabee. A metal spike was firmly embedded into Chris' right buttocks.

"Ouch."

"Amen, Brother Buck."

"What the hell are we to do now?" Ezra stood there, staring intently at Chris's portrait and its new addition. Somehow, the whole thing seemed poetic in a strange twisted way.

Nathan couldn't quite believe his eyes, but he forcefully pulled his mind away from the symbolism of the whole sight. "How about we. . ."

"CHRIS! WAIT! CHRIS, WAIT FOR ME!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"JD!" Chris hissed the warning to his young partner as they both flattened themselves against the wall. Chris was sure that the shot he heard had originated from this room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Awww, hell!" Vin's hair whipped back and forth as he looked for the quickest escape route.

"What do we do now?" Buck's loud voice was unmistakable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Vin? Buck?"

JD flinched at the angry and surprised growl from his boss.

"Was that Vin and Buck?" Chris grabbed JD by the collar, jerking the young man forward. Wide, guilty eyes were his answer.

"Sonovabitch!"

JD watched and prayed for his friends and for himself as Chris angrily strode into the room.

"TANNER! WILMINGTON! STANDISH! SANCHEZ! JACKSON!" Chris knew where one was, they probably all were! He also knew there had to be a reason for JD's antics outside! They had sent the youngest as the diversion, which meant that the rest of the boys were up to something. And Chris was going to find out if it was the last thing *they* ever did!

Chris' roar had the five men jumping out of their skins. Chris glared at them.

"What the hell are you doing here? You're all suppose to be. . . ," Chris's words trailed off as he took in his men's facial expressions.

'Deer caught in headlights.'

That was the first and only thought that came to mind.

'Deer caught in headlights.'

Each and every one of them had the same expression: wide, scared eyes and mouth slightly agape. Chris stared directly at Vin, but his best friend wouldn't meet his eyes. A sure sign of nervousness on the sharpshooter's part. Then Ezra's eyes flicked to the walls. Buck's did the same.

Little did Chris know that each man was praying. . .

*Dear God, I'll be good, I swear. If you don't let Chris see those pictures, I'll never pull another prank again! And I won't argue with him again, I swear! Please, please, just don't let him see those pictures!*

*Dear Lord, anything, I'll do anything at all. . .well, except maybe swearing off women. . .other than that, anything else! Just don't let Chris see those pictures! *

*Dear Lord, I promise on the grave of my sainted mother that I will never make another wager as long as I live, if Mr. Larabee by some small miracle becomes blind to the photographs. Oh, wait, about the mother comment. . it was, as you know, a figure of speech.*

Unfortunately, God must have been in a really mischievous mood.

Or maybe He has a really wicked sense of humor. . .

Chris's ever-observant eyes swept the room.

His men knew the exact instant in which their fate had been decided. It was the moment that Chris's crystalline, green eyes darted from their faces to the walls and then back to their faces.

Swallowing hard, Buck took a hesitant step forward. "Now, Chris....This... This ain't what it seems. I mean...." Green eyes as sharp as daggers stopped the mustached man before he could finish.

Chris' eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to the pictures as if to confirm what he was seeing. A nervous silence descended in the large room, coating every object with it's invisible blanket.

Flashing his eyes back towards the others, Chris could see the panic begin to build in each of the men watching him with wide eyes. As he took another step, in his peripheral vision he could see the six move simultaneously as if they were a shadow mimicking his movements.

As the black clad man's attention was drawn to the twenty-foot portrait impaled on the recently fallen sculpture, the apprehension in the men behind him raised to a new high. Six sets of anxious eyes flickered between the impaled portrait and the man slowly advancing on it. It was during this moment of distress when the unthinkable happened…

For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, the acrid smell of gunpowder burned the nostrils of the ATF agents as the sound of a single shot reverberated off the walls.