Therapy

by Robyn Quincy

After work, everyone decided that they needed to unwind, so they all headed down to what they called "the saloon" for a drink and a bite to eat. They lounged around the table in a thoughtful silence as they ate.

Finally, Chris spoke up. "I do not like therapy. That man is an ass."

The others nodded. "No kidding. Singing theme songs. Really!"

"Although you have to admit Ezra has a purdy voice. And JD picked such a *cute* theme song!" Buck affectionately cuffed the kid's ear.

"Shut up!"

Vin yawned. "We really have to find a way to get out of this whole psychotherapy thing."

"You'd probably screw it up by not being where I told you to be."

Vin scowled at Chris. "Would you get over it already? I was more useful where I was!"

"Oh, yeah? I bet that poor defenseless bunny would disagree with you!"

"No, it wouldn't!"

"That's right, but only because it's dead!"

JD sighed. "Those two really need to let bygones be bygones."

"Oh, I don't know," Buck disagreed. "Some things are worth holding a grudge over."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, certain people making certain other people burn their favourite rubber chicken and then welshing on their promise to buy another one, for instance."

"Oh, for God's sake..."

"No, really, JD, I loved that chicken. And you so cruelly forced me to throw it on the fire..."

"I didn't *force* you, Buck! For crying out loud, let it go!"

Nathan was glaring, outraged, at Josiah. "Get your thieving hands off my salad!"

"They were nowhere near your stupid salad!"

"Liar! Unhand my olive, you demented desperado!"

"I don't have your olive, you leery lunatic! You're just making this up to get at me!"

"Paranoid profiler!"

"Fiendish fibber!"

"Crazy kleptomaniac!"

Josiah's reply was cut short when he noticed that someone was singing. Gradually, the arguments around the table died down as everyone turned to stare at the minstrel. It was Ezra.

"I'm one card short of a full deck," he crooned, "I'm not quite the shilling. One wave short of a shipwreck - I'm not my usual top billing... I'm coming down with a fever; I'm really out to sea... This kettle is boiling over, I think I'm a banana tree. Oh dear."

The others grinned when they realized what he was singing. To their utter stupefaction, Chris joined in.

"I'm going slightly mad. I'm going slightly mad. It finally happened... I'm slightly mad... Just very slightly mad..."

Inez was puzzled. "I didn't realize it was karaoke night."

Throwing caution - and, in Buck's case, consideration of the state of other people's ears - to the wind, everyone followed their leader's example and joined in until the end. "...And there you have it."

Ezra steepled his fingers calmly as the song finished. "Wow, this singing thing actually works. Fascinating." He paused and met the eyes of everyone at the table, one by one. This took some time. "Now that I have your attention," he continued eventually, "I would like to express my agreement with Vin's earlier statement about the futility of continuing our association with Doctor Thornton."

Chris smiled a devilish smile. "You have a plan?"

"I do indeed." Ezra explained what he had in mind. To his disappointment, Chris refused outright.

"I'm sorry, Ezra, but that's just too cruel. He's not *that* bad a guy."

Ezra sighed, hiding his dismay behind his poker face. "Then I shall see you in therapy tomorrow morning, Mr. Larabee. I'm going home."

The third session was not going well. They were twelve minutes and - Thornton checked his watch - thirty-two seconds in, and the men were already at each other's throats. He was a bit annoyed that they weren't fighting about who got to sit in the comfy chair, which was what his peers had told him to expect, but rather about such trivial things as Ezra being unreliable, Josiah being a thief, Chris being an unrelenting slave driver, Vin being a rebel without a cause, Nathan being a pathological liar, Buck being an idiotic womanizing mother hen, and JD being to young for his job.

"I agree with Chris," he said eventually, just to get them to shut up.

Chris narrowed his eyes, a sign that anyone who knew him well, and most that didn't, recognized as a sign of imminent danger. Thornton, however, was happily oblivious.

"What was that, Benjy?" Chris asked, mildly.

Thornton winced at the use of the hated nickname, but elaborated. "Well, I've read all your files, and Ezra does seem rather unreliable."

Ezra looked hurt. "I am not," he muttered, stung.

Chris, however, was not that polite. He leapt from his seat and, grabbing Thornton by the collar, yanked him from his chair. "Listen up, moron. Ezra is one of the most reliable men I've ever worked with, as are all the other members of my team, and I would trust him with anything." Chris hesitated for a second as he considered this statement. "Except money of which the owners are unknown," he corrected himself, then re-focused on the object of his wrath.

"But, but, you said it yourself!" Thornton spluttered.

"I have the right to say it! I've earned it! You work with my team for three years, and stay alive, and watch everyone's back, and sit in hospitals and worry about them for hours on end, and *then* you can insult them! Until then, watch your damned mouth!"

"I'm... sorry?"

Chris nodded slightly, released the terrified man, and sat down again, dusting off his shirt.

Ezra sat up straight, looking pleased. "Mr. Larabee, I didn't know you cared."

Thornton cleared his throat, and tried again. "Although, surely JD is rather young for this line of work?"

Buck's mouth dropped open. "Look who's talking, Mr. Just-out-of-diapers! You don't look old enough to tie your own shoelaces! And JD's a hell of a lot more capable of 'this line of work' than you could ever be!"

Chris was back on his feet, looming threateningly over Ben. "JD is one of the best agents in the ATF. The only men I know that are as good as he is are sitting right in front of you," he said coldly. "And just to reiterate, don't *ever* insult *anyone* on my team. Or didn't you hear me the first time?"

This time it was JD's turn to look pleased.

Thornton's mouth opened and shut a few times, before he nodded weakly.

Chris turned to Ezra and regarded him thoughtfully. "You know that plan you came up with last night? Let's do it."

"Plan?" Thornton whispered fearfully.

Chris's smile was pure evil.

Half an hour later, Thornton went to see Judge Travis, and spoke to him for twenty minutes. Then he quit his job, packed his bags, and moved to Australia, where he lived out his life as a happy, if quite nervous, sheepherder.

Seven extremely self-satisfied men strolled into the ATF building, about two hours later than they should have. They had taken what they considered a much deserved break, and gone to see a movie. Nathan and Vin had already seen it, but agreed that it was good enough to watch again. Unfortunately, in discussing just how good it was, they had inadvertently given away the ending to their friends, and most of the other people in the cinema. Still, they weren't really in the mood to fight about it. For once.

Whispers and awed looks followed them as they headed for the elevator. Finally, they were approached by a particularly daring young man.

"Hello, sir," he said to Chris, nodding to the other men.

"Hey, Norm, what can I do for you?"

"Er... Judge Travis wants to talk to you, sir."

"Really? I'll go and see him as soon as I've caught up on my paperwork." Which shouldn't take more than ten years, he added to himself. The smirks on the faces of Vin, Ezra and Buck indicated that they had had the same thought.

"Er, he's here, sir. In your office, sir. Waiting. For you. Sir."

Chris sighed. "Ah. Well, thanks for the warning, Norm."

Norm bobbed his head nervously, then said, "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Sir, is it true that you made a therapist cry, sir?"

Chris smiled faintly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Norm nodded again and dashed off as the elevator announced its arrival with a cheerful "ding!"

"Want some moral support?"

Chris smiled at his best friend, but shook his head. "Nah. No big deal."

Vin leaned against his desk and shrugged. "Up to you. Good luck."

Chris nodded, took a deep breath, and entered his office with trepidation.

The Judge was sitting in Chris's chair, with his feet up on Chris's desk, drinking coffee out of the mug that Chris frequently referred to as his favourite.

Chris carefully did not sigh. He was in for it this time. "Sir! What a nice surprise."

Judge Travis frowned. "Don't pretend you didn't know I was coming, Chris."

"No, sir. Sorry."

"You know why I'm here, don't you."

"I have no idea, sir."

"Liar."

"Sir?"

The Judge sighed. "Chris, Dr Thornton came to see me today."

"Really, sir?"

"Really. He informed me that you are in absolutely no need for therapy at all. He spent a considerable amount of time convincing me of this. Then he burst into tears, muttered something about sheep, and ran off."

"How odd, sir."

Travis removed his feet from the desk and sat up straight. "You had nothing at all to do with that?"

"Sir! I resent the fact that you could even consider the possibility of there being the merest *hint* of us even *thinking* -"

"All right, all right! Listen, I really think you need this therapy, though!"

Chris rubbed his hands over his face, hard. "But *why*, Judge?"

"You had a screaming match with your team in the middle of a bust! I don't care if the other teams had it under control, you could have messed it up for everyone!"

"Sir, I admit we were all a bit tense last week, but we would never endanger an operation. Nor would we lower our guard unless we were absolutely certain that there was no danger to anyone whatsoever!"

The Judge jumped up, paced frustratedly to the window, and bent to peer through the blinds.

"What are those two doing?" he asked, pointing at Josiah and Nathan, who were paging through dictionaries.

Chris came up next to the Judge. "They're looking for new names to call each other, sir."

Travis straightened. "See! Your team is constantly fighting!"

Chris allowed his surprise to show. "They are not, sir!"

Travis pointed out of the window again. "Look! Just look at those two! And those two over there!"

Chris looked.

Ezra and Vin were arguing heatedly over something, frequent gestures being made in the direction of the waste paper bin. Buck and JD were bickering, too, probably about the helmet that Buck was attempting to force onto his roommate's head.

"That's not fighting, Judge!"

"Oh, please! What is it then?" Travis didn't bother to conceal his disbelief.

"They're just letting off steam! It's a stressful job! God knows we have to relax somehow!"

The Judge blinked. "*This* is how you *relax*?"

"Yeah! Everyone knows we don't mean a word of what we say!"

"Ah. Uh. Oh."

"Come on, I'll show you."

Chris led the way out of his office and into the space that everyone else shared. Vin and Ezra homed in on him immediately.

"Chris! Tell Vin to throw his stupid paper away himself!"

"Ezra's closer!"

"Oh yeah, by all of four inches!"

"It's not that far! You could throw it from where you sit!"

"So could you, you lazy bastard!"

"The angle's wrong, you unhelpful sod!"

Judge Travis shook his head. "Relaxing, is it?"

He glanced over at Josiah and Nathan, who had apparently stored up enough insults for another skirmish.

"Isn't that *my* dictionary?"

"No, *that* is your dictionary."

"It isn't! Mine has the torn binder!"

"It does not!"

"Thief!"

"Liar!"

"Pirate!"

"Prevaricator!" Josiah was rather proud of that one.

"Imbecile!"

"Ignoramus!"

Chris grinned. "Just wait."

Buck was trying to hold JD in a headlock with one arm and ram the helmet on his head with the other. "If you'd just try it on once you'd see it's not that bad, you stubborn brat!"

"I don't *want* to try it on! I *have* a helmet!"

"That dinky little thing? That couldn't protect you from a rabid paper bag!"

"It has before! Let go of my neck!" JD twisted free and sprang back, preparing to defend himself by putting up his arms in a classic boxer's pose.

Buck advanced on him threateningly, still holding the helmet.

Suddenly JD lowered his hands. "Oh, wait a minute, I just remembered!"

Buck stopped. "What?"

"Wait here!" JD raced over to his desk, retrieved a box and ran back. "Here." He handed the parcel to Buck. It had a ribbon around it.

Buck looked at it, at JD, back at the box. "What's this for? It's not my birthday."

"I know!"

"What is it?"

"Just open it, already!"

"Okay, okay," said Buck, tearing at the wrapping. "Sheesh, you ask one simple question..." He stopped short as he finally managed to get the box open. He stared at the contents, then raised his head and stared at his friend. "For... me?"

JD nodded.

"Kid, you shouldn't have. It..." he paused, all choked up.

JD grinned widely. "Aren't you gonna try it out?"

Buck nodded, reached into the box and reverentially withdrew... ... a rubber chicken. He held it by the neck and shook it happily in Chris's direction. Chris smiled broadly and gave an acknowledging wave. Buck turned to JD. "It works great, kid! Thanks!" With that he enveloped his young friend in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet, and gave him a noogie. "You wanna aggravate me a little so I can use it some more?"

JD laughed. "How about I get you some coffee instead?"

Buck pouted in mock disappointment, but, after a particularly vigorous shake of the chicken, agreed.

Ezra and Vin had paused just as Vin had prepared to throw the first - gentle - punch, after Ezra had called him a loser, and were watching Buck and the kid.

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Vin said, smiling.

"Indeed. It makes me wonder what satisfaction we can possibly get from exchanging blows. Especially when we could be drinking coffee with those two instead."

"Brings a tear to my eye to think what we could be missing," Vin agreed, so they rushed off to join their two friends, who had sneakily decided to go to Starbucks instead of drinking office coffee. Chris couldn't very well let them start the day over two hours late and still expect them to get any work done.

Chris looked pointedly at the Judge. "See? All insults forgotten in an instant."

Judge Travis hesitated, feeling that although he wanted to stand his ground on the matter, said ground seemed to be crumbling beneath his feet. He looked around. "What about those two?" he asked hopefully, pointing to Nate and Josiah.

"Blackguard!"

"Villain!"

"Knave!"

"Cad!"

"Simpleton!"

"Dunderhead!"

Josiah hesitated. "No, it's no good, I've run out."

Nathan laughed triumphantly. "That makes us even, then." He looked around. "Er... where've the others got to?"

Josiah replayed the last few minutes in his head, editing out himself and Nathan. "I think they went to Starbucks." He glanced over to the other side of the office and raised an eyebrow at Chris, who nodded and gave him a thumbs-up sign. He smiled at his boss, then turned back to Nate. "Come on, rapscallion, we should be able to catch them."

He absently slung an arm around his friend's shoulder as they walked out, gesturing violently with his other hand as he explained why the Oxford was the best dictionary on the market.

Chris allowed his gaze to wander around the now-empty office before it settled on the Judge.

"Oh..." said Judge Travis, weakly. "You people have a damned odd way of relaxing."

Chris took pity on him. "If we hurry, we should be able to catch up with them."

The Judge focused on him. "...What?"

Chris mentally rolled his eyes. "Want some coffee, Judge?"

"Is that all that's on offer?"

"It's only ten o'clock."

"In that case: hell, yes."

Chris calmly led the Judge outside, not bothering to lock the door behind him. Nobody would dare go near the office of the scariest ATF team there was - hell, they were always on the verge of ripping each other apart, and they were best friends! And who was Chris Larabee to argue with popular belief?

Chris smiled to himself as he caught the looks he got on the way out. They really did squabble to relax. And if a side effect of that was a large measure of fearful respect, well, that was all right too.

The End

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