Snow Cat

By: Heather Flaherty

Ezra cursed, trying to extract himself painlessly from the Jag, it was a futile effort. If he flexed his foot just right or placed weight on his leg at even the slightest angle, his knee burned in protest. He had forgone his ritual coffee stop, didn't bother weaving in and out of traffic on his commute into work and had difficulty putting on his socks and boots. With each cry of protest, he cursed Vin Tanner.

Chris checked his watch; Standish was an hour and a half late for work. Larabee walked out into the bullpen. Nathan and Josiah worked diligently at their computers. Buck exited the break room carrying a coke and JD was reading a Tech manual. They had been having problem with some computer systems.

Larabee was about to ask if anyone had heard from the errant conman when the elevator chimed announcing its arrival. Chris waited patiently unconsciously counting the seconds it would take for someone to traverse the corridor and round the corner to enter team 7's playing ground. It had to be Standish; too much time had elapsed.

After about a minute and proceeded by a hissed curse, the southerner painfully limped into the bullpen area.

Larabee quickly surveyed his agent. To anyone who didn't know the impeccably dressed southern, the subtle but telltale signs of discomfort would have been missed.

There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair stuck up somewhat on end, and his jaw was clenched as well as his balled fists. Then there was, of course, the obvious limp. It was more than a limp; he was almost putting no weight on the right leg. The swelling in the knee was worse than it had been yesterday afternoon and easily visible through the loose suit pants. In fact, they looked tight around the knee.

" 'Ey, Ez," Buck greeted the shuffling agent with his typical enthusiasm. Standish tossed him a feral smile.

"How's the knee, Ezra?" JD asked swiveling around in his chair. He let out a low whistle not bother disguising his surprise at the haggard appearance of the undercover agent.

"Better," Standish answered. His confidence wasn't enough to conceal the painful gait.

"Yeah, right," Nathan mocked from his desk watching the slow entrance of the southerner.

Larabee met Josiah's gaze and slowly shook his head indicating to Jackson. Antagonizing Standish would *not* get him to the doctor.

Ezra ignored Jackson. He didn't want to engage in arguments this morning. It hurt to sit, it hurt to lie down and his left leg was already tired of bearing his weight. Standing was the only activity that offered his injured knee respite but it wouldn't bear weight. It had to get better.

Chris bit his tongue and watched Standish shuffle pass in a halting ungraceful stride. Ezra was determined to do things his way. Larabee would wait him out.

Waiting him out took four days. Tanner had finally managed to make it back to his own apartment. He slept mostly between meals and pain medicine but the incessant ache in his arm seemed to diminish. He had yet to make it into work much to everyone's pleasure. Vin Tanner on pain medication was a bear--a tired, cranky, no good grizzly, with a foul attitude.

Thursday morning, the six remaining members of the ATF team sat in the conference room. It was their weekly morning meeting. Standish had been late. The dark circles had gotten darker and deeper. He wasn't sleeping well. The knee had stabilized to the size of a volleyball. He had become surly and ill tempered. Empty Motrin bottles littered wastebaskets around the office. Jackson had nearly bitten his tongue in two trying to keep his comments to himself.

Chris stood at the head of the table trying to hold everyone's attention. JD thought he had a handle on the computer glitches and had practically dismantled every program on Vin's computer in an effort to locate the problem. Dunne had explained. He had used Tanner's machine for the simple logic that Vin wasn't around to stop him. It made sense.

Buck sipped on coffee, Josiah leafed through the folder in front of him, and Jackson glared at the southerner. Ezra, for his part, tried to remain seated. Chris knew that sitting was near torture for the younger agent. He watched as Standish fidgeted, trying to get comfortable. He would settle down for a second or two and then start all over again. The undercover agent's resolve was wearing down.

"Okay . . .is there anything . . ." Larabee started to say when Standish suddenly stood up, cursing in frustration. He leaned heavily on the table with two hands keeping his right leg slightly bent stretched out behind himself. His head hung between his shoulders. Larabee could see the tightened jaw muscles twitch as teeth were ground. Muscles spasmed painfully underneath the dress pants.

Chris smiled; it was getting closer to the time.

The other five men watched the undercover agent and then turned to their leader. Chris shook his head stalling any comments.

"Okay, boys . . .meeting's over," Chris announced. No one moved. Something was up and they wanted to witness it. Standish gathered his belongings either ignoring or not noticing no one had left.

"Not you, Ezra," Chris said gently but the authority was present.

Standish paused. Larabee slid a small business card down the table, "You have an appointment at 1:30 with McMann to get your leg checked out."

Ezra was about to argue, but Chris stopped him with an upraised hand.

"You can either go . . .or you can accept the idea that you'll be on non-aggressive duty for the duration of your stay here," Chris stated matter-of-factly.

Standish fingered the card moving it back and forth under his index finger on the table. He nodded in resignation.

Larabee left Josiah in charge. Sanchez nodded accepting the sudden responsibility. All he had to do was keep Buck and JD from breaking something. He had extra handcuffs in his desk if restraint became necessary. Chris grabbed Standish by the upper arm and eased him down the corridor. Ezra didn't argue or put up a fight. Larabee had spoken the truth in the conference room this morning. For Standish, undercover work was like life. He would endure the indignity of going to the doctor for his job.

Larabee swung by Purgatorio and grabbed Vin. Tanner had his appointment today at 1:30 as well. Both men glared at their boss, blaming him for their predicament.

Ezra sat on the padded exam table in his white starched iron shirt, designer tie and boxers. McMann had Vin go down for radiographs. Ezra had just come back from there and a MRI. Nothing broken according to films. He could of told them that and saved everyone a lot of hassle. The MRI series made no sense to him. Larabee sat in the only chair in the room watching the proceedings. Standish promised revenge on their leader.

The orthropodist asked questions about the accident . . .about where it hurt . . .and tested the range of motion of the joint. He wasn't surprised to find very little ROM. He gently tested specific areas for pain response or tenderness. The man before him hadn't been getting much sleep and the leg was obviously uncomfortable. It only took a few minutes before McMann stepped away from the agent nodding his head.

"Well, we can set you up tomorrow morning," The Doctor spoke confidently. He knew Chris and Vin and the other members of Team 7 but he had never had the southerner as a patient. The man was hard to read. The fact he waited four days to seek medical help and that his boss had to bring him in didn't encourage the doctor very much.

"Set up tomorrow . . .for what?" Ezra asked. His suspicions and mistrust hung heavy in the air.

"You've torn ligaments in your knee, agent Standish," McMann explained choosing his words carefully. "They need to be fixed . . .the longer you wait . . .which you may . . .the more likely arthritis will set in and the more difficult it will be to get you back to 100%." The orthropodist watched the younger man for a moment and then turned to Larabee.

Chris nodded his head silently. Tomorrow would work out fine. Standish didn't miss the exchange but instead he stared transfixed at his swollen knee.

"We can wait and put a brace on it and see if they fix themselves. However, as you have already discovered after four days, it hasn't improved," The orthopedist tried to mollify a tense agent.

"You'll be stuck at a desk until you get it fixed, Ezra," Chris said.

Standish nodded his head in acceptance.

As he slid back into his pants and shoes, Larabee and McMann reviewed the instructions for the evening and tomorrow morning. Standish listened half heartily. 'How was he going to get out of this?'

Ezra limped through the clinic from reception desk to office area, giving his insurance information and picking up his instructions for tonight. A nurse came out and informed him on how to properly scrub his knee that evening and that loose clothing should be worn tomorrow morning. Standish took it all in, listening mutely and wishing he were somewhere else.

Vin and Chris sat waiting for him at the reception desk. Tanner wore a sympathetic grimace.

Standish said nothing and followed them out to the truck. They still had an hour to put in at the office.

The simple sixty minutes agonizingly crawled out over a lifetime. Buck and JD took it upon themselves to harass the undercover agent and sharpshooter. The dynamic duo did everything in their power to make Vin and Ezra's last hour of work miserable. Josiah sat quietly at his desk smiling at the antics of the others. Jackson sipped smugly from his soda, an 'I told ya so' smirk clearly gracing his dark features.

Chris listened to the verbal jousting outside his office enjoying the torture wrought on by the 'wonder twins'. JD and Buck were royal pains in the ass. Toss in Josiah and Nathan, and the foursome could be as irritating as hovering mosquitoes on a camping trip.

Vin fended them off tactfully, parrying a jab with one of his own. Nothing seemed safe. Buck's nude mishap with the pick-up truck and female police officer resurfaced, much to Wilmington's glee. Tanner really was hoping for different results with that one. Through it all, Chris had yet to hear the southerner make a comment.

"Come on Ez, give me a hand here," Vin drawled out as he reminded JD of the time when his boxers caught in his fly while meeting the Ms. Judge Warren. Dunne turned a remarkable shade of deep crimson, again.

Standish tuned out the argument, his mind rapidly trying to finagle away out of this mess.

Larabee stood in his office doorway and watched his agents. JD, Buck and Vin were caught up in an animated verbal duel. Jackson offered comments when openings allowed. Sanchez was content to sit back and listen. His blue eyes fell on the uncharacteristically quiet conman.

Standish flipped the appointment card through dexterous fingers. His mind a million miles from the barrage of insults flung at him and Vin.

Larabee and Sanchez stared at one another each with a puzzled expression. With Ezra and Vin paired up in a battle of wits against JD and Buck, Wilmington and his young charge fell seriously short of comebacks and normally succumbed to a miserable defeat. Vin and Ezra didn't put the tag team effort forth this late afternoon.

Josiah crossed the floor and stood next to Chris.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's worried," Josiah pointed out quietly to his boss.

"Hell, I'd say down right scared," Chris answered back. Both men stood observing the undercover agent.

"You think he's nervous?" Josiah asked.

"I wouldn't have thought so . . .but watching him . . .yeah," Chris answered.

"Left to his own devices, he won't show tomorrow," Sanchez pointed out needlessly.

Larabee smiled without humor, "I've got it covered."

"If you boys aren't going to get anymore done tonight, why don't ya'll go home," Chris said. It was a little past five and no one seemed to have noticed.

Buck and JD whooped slapped each other high five. They turned facing Vin and Ezra, licking their index fingers they pointed them at the two injured agents making sharp hissing sounds. The Texan and Southerner had been soundly burned.

Tanner shot them a scowl and slapped Standish's shoulder, "You were a lot of help, pard'"

Ezra merely cocked an eyebrow unconcerned.

"Buck you want to give Vin a ride home?" Chris asked. Sanchez slowly made his way over to Jackson.

Both Tanner and Wilmington turned and stared at Chris for an explanation.

"Sure, Chris. How come?" Buck asked.

"Cuz, I've gotta take Ezra by his place so he can pick up a few things for tomorrow." Larabee turned an authoritative stare at the undercover agent, "He's staying at my place tonight."

Before Buck or Vin could say anything Standish spoke up, "Like hell." It was the first time that Ezra had spoken complete words since returning to the office. Vin and Buck came to the same realization at the same time.

"Oh?" Chris raised an expressive eyebrow, "And you expect me to believe you're going to wake up and git yourself to the hospital before 7:00 a.m.?" Chris nailed the younger agent with a challenging stare. "Does it look like I was born last night?"

JD missing the whole 'conversation' helpfully added, "No way, Chris. More like 30-40 years of last nights."

Larabee turned and met his youngest agent with a deadly, unamused stare.

Dunne realized his mistake and backpedaled ungracefully, "That ain't really all that old."

"If you're talkin' geological time periods," Wilmington chuckled under his breath.

Ezra sighed. There would be no way to skip out tomorrow if he was stuck under the watchful eyes of his boss.

Josiah and Jackson closed their eyes. It would be an interesting night at the Larabee homestead.

"Git your stuff, Ezra," Chris ordered out quietly.

Seven a.m. found the city of Denver with heavy-laden snow clouds. The sky had just begun to lighten with the promise of a new day. The sun would be obscured from view all day and snow promised to fly.

Chris Larabee sat quietly in the waiting room flipping through an old Time Magazine. The pages were wrinkled and greasy. He wasn't reading the articles or looking at the pictures. Instead, he watched his undercover agent. Amazing, the young southern agent would go undercover or jump in front of a bullet or speeding car. Or even take on people twice his size and weight, without blinking an eye. A simple painless knee scope had him running scared. Larabee couldn't fathom why.

Standish stood wearing sneakers loose sweat pants, a coat and a T-shirt. He had his hands crushed into the coat pockets. He stared at out the window of the semi-enclosed room. Occasionally, he would gaze at the 'EXIT' sign in green lettering and make an unconscious step toward it. A few times, Chris would have to clear his throat and grabbed the wandering man's attention. Ezra would look up at him and Chris would merely shake his head 'no'. Standish would sigh and return to his post in front of the windows searching and hoping for an escape. None came.

In less than twenty minutes, a surgical nurse entered the waiting area and directed Standish away. Chris almost called the whole thing off when Ezra's green eyes fell on him in pleading. It would have been amusing if it were anyone else. Damn, Standish relied so little on the others. The one time he silently asks for help, Larabee has to look the other way. Chris decided to follow.

Dr. Dennis McMann watched as his nurse led Standish down the hall with Chris shadowing them quietly. The doctor trotted up behind the leader of team 7.

"Everything all right, Mr. Larabee?" The Doctor asked.

Chris didn't slow his pace. "Yeah . . .but I think if I leave Ezra alone . . .he might pull a disappearing act," Larabee explained as he watched Standish and the nurse disappear into a room. It was the truth but not the whole of it. Larabee knew if left alone, Standish would make himself very scarce. But the leader of the team shadowed the younger agent because of the underlying fear that glimmered behind the green eyes. To the unknowing observer, Standish appeared confident and self-assured but Chris had seen the flickering flames of doubt.

"He a little nervous?" This surprised the Doctor. It was a simple procedure.

"Yeah, can't figure it," Larabee answered honestly.

"Give 'em a few minutes to get settled in and then go on in," McMann directed. In a few minutes, Standish would be in a hospital gown and the Demerol would be flooding his system.

Ezra lay staring up at the same ceiling Vin had been just the other day. He lay there watching the same tiles spin in multiple directions at once. Suddenly, Chris's face filled his line of sight.

"How ya doin', Ez?" Larabee asked. Chris had seen the heart rate. His undercover agent's pulse was racing. At least, until the drugs hit home. As the eyes grew wider and movements more sluggish, the pulse dropped.

Standish didn't answer instead he stared at Larabee following the man's movements with his eyes and when necessary moving his head.

Chris noticed this right off and stayed beside his agent. He didn't want to reach for the younger man. Standish wasn't demonstrative, unlike JD or even Buck. Ezra held himself in check and faced the world with a cool hands-off facade. Chris would respect it.

"Ez, you ever been under the knife?" Larabee had tried to raise this conversation last night but Standish had found ways to tactfully avoid it. Normally by grunting dismissively or just ignoring his older friend.

"No." It was said softly and low, almost embarrassed by his fear.

Larabee smiled reassuringly. He hoped Ezra didn't remember these moments; the man was fiercely independent and confident.

"Not a big deal . . .you're gonna fall asleep here and wake up here . . .you'll never feel a thing," Larabee said, watching the glazed green eyes. Standish merely nodded unconvinced. Ezra wasn't worried about feeling the pain. It was lying down with strangers working on him when he was unable to defend himself or walk away when he deemed it necessary. It required faith to lay here and let some stranger jab him in the hip with needle and then slide an IV into his veins. More faith than he was willing to bestow on any stranger. In fact, Ezra had decided it was time to leave when the ceiling tiles began their macabre dance.

Then Chris showed up. Larabee would protect him, watch over him, and make sure Ezra himself did nothing foolish. Standish just wished he didn't appear so weak in front of such a formidable man. Larabee deserved more from his agents.

The anesthesiologist entered asked Standish a few questions and then injected his IV with a few cc's of clear liquid. Standish stared at Larabee watching and trying to gauge his reactions. Ezra relaxed somewhat. Chris seemed unconcerned.

Chris watched Ezra keeping his undercover agent's attention until the green eyes finally rolled.

Part 4

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