The slamming of a car door roused him from his reverie. Chris took a last look at the picture of his wife and son, before setting it back on the bureau. He had promised Buck that he would try to have a good time this Christmas, if only for the sake of JD, who was spending his first Christmas without his mother. It wasn't going to be easy, but he was determined to try. Wiping a stray tear from his cheek, he made his way to the door to welcome his guests.
Christmas Eve. The day had finally arrived, and Chris prepared for the onslaught that was Team Seven. He grinned as Buck and JD argued their way up the stairs onto the porch, their arms laden with bags and boxes.
"Hey, Chris," JD called cheerfully, peering around the cardboard box he carried.
"JD, Buck," Chris greeted his friends. "What's all that stuff?"
"Oh, uh, Casey found out we were all spending Christmas together and she baked us a pie and some cookies." JD's cheeks, already flushed with the cold, turned an even deeper shad of red.
"I see," Chris said with a smile.
"I brought us some beverages, as requested," Buck said, hefting his bag.
"Good," Chris said. "You know where the fridge is."
The two men bustled into the house with Chris trailing behind them, chuckling softly at the banter being exchanged. A noise that sounded suspiciously like a gunshot brought the three of them to immediate attention, as they searched warily for its source.
Buck began to laugh when he identified the cause of the ruckus. "Josiah's here."
Chris shook his head and headed back to the porch, watching Josiah park his car, which was spewing oily black smoke from its tailpipe. "Guess you haven't had time to make use of your gift yet." Chris remarked once Josiah had reached the stairs with his box.
A hearty laugh was his answer. "No, not yet. I've been busy helping out at the homeless shelter this weekend."
Chris nodded, knowing that the older man devoted much of his free time to helping the disadvantaged, especially at this time of year. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it." Josiah studied his boss for a moment, noting the hint of sadness in his eyes, and smiled knowingly, knowing that the man was struggling against his memories. "Where do you want this?" He hefted the box in his arms.
"What is it?"
"It's a ham," Josiah replied. "Big one, too."
"It should fit in the fridge," Chris answered. "...provided Buck hasn't filled it completely with beer."
Josiah laughed. "Don't worry, I'll make room."
Nathan and Vin arrived shortly after Josiah, both bearing food.
"So what did you guys bring?" JD asked curiously.
"I made some sweet potatoes," Nathan answered as he searched for a place in the refrigerator to set his dish.
"I brought munchies," Vin replied, dumping bags of chips and pretzels on the counter. "And Nettie sent us this broccoli casserole." He wrinkled his nose. Vegetables were not his favorite type of food.
"She probably knows how y'all usually eat," Nathan said with a smirk. "Wouldn't hurt ya to eat something green once in a while."
Vin smiled and held up a package of green marshmallow Christmas trees.
"Don't count if there's sugar in it," Nathan snorted.
"Well, I like broccoli," Josiah announced.
"Me too," Chris added.
"Good, you can have my share," Vin retorted, taking a bag of chips and his sugary green snack into the living room.
Nathan shook his head, muttering, "Why do I even bother?"
Chris leaned against the doorjamb and smiled as he watched his friends putter around the kitchen. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to enjoy this Christmas after all.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ezra yawned and stretched as he shuffled into the kitchen. The one good thing about it being Christmas day was that he could sleep in without worrying about missing anything. He had no place he had to be, so he could stay in bed as late as he wanted. He brewed a pot of coffee while he prepared his bagel. Opening the refrigerator, he frowned when he realized that he had forgotten to buy cream for his coffee. Ezra contemplated drinking it black, but then decided he really wanted cream. It was Christmas, after all.
Dressing quickly in jeans and a sweatshirt, Ezra grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the convenience store down the block. It was cold, having snowed the previous evening, and Ezra shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his wool coat. It was only a short walk to the store, but he hurried anyway, not eager to spend any more time in the cold than he had to.
Nodding toward the bored sales clerk, Ezra entered the store, bells chiming merrily behind him as the door shut. He quickly retrieved his cream and headed for the counter, but when he attempted to pay for his merchandise, he discovered that he had forgotten his wallet. Heaving an annoyed sigh, he returned the carton of cream to its case and turned to leave the store, stopping short when he spotted the man who had just walked through the door.
The man was tall and thin, with long stringy hair covered by a black watch cap. His face was unshaven and his clothes were badly in need of washing, but it was the gun in his hand that had captured Ezra's attention. Cursing himself for not having his own weapon available, he ducked behind a display case and quietly made his way toward the front of the store, where he circled around the armed man and crept up behind him silently. In a flurry of motion, he tackled the would-be robber, kicking the gun away as he restrained the thief's arms. The wiry man struggled against his grasp, but Ezra held firm.
"Call 911!" he shouted to the frightened young man behind the register.
The boy reached for the telephone, then froze suddenly, ducking his head below the counter with a gasp. Ezra turned to see what had frightened him and was met with a sharp blow to the face by a second armed man, who had managed to enter the store unseen while Ezra had been subduing his cohort. Rolling into a defensive crouch, he attempted to take cover behind a shelf of potato chips, but did not move fast enough. The shot rang out and Ezra was flung backwards into a rack of magazines, a burning pain flaring in his chest. His awareness was fading quickly, and his last thought was that he really should have taken his coffee black that morning.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Incoming!" Vin called, as JD tossed a cookie at Buck.
Buck ducked and the cookie hit the side of Chris's head. Chris turned around slowly, arching an eyebrow in JD's direction.
"Um, sorry Chris," JD said, chagrined.
Chris picked up the cookie and took a large bite. "Thanks, JD."
"I must say, this has been an enjoyable day," Josiah said as he sipped contentedly on his beer. They had awakened early, courtesy of Buck and JD, who couldn't wait to open the gifts they had brought. After a leisurely breakfast, Vin and JD had taken out Chris's snowmobiles, while their older teammates took the horses for a quiet ride through the woods. A vigorous snowball fight had ended the day, and now, they were finally relaxing after a satisfying dinner. It didn't get much better than this.
"Yeah. That dinner was really great," JD said enthusiastically. "Even the broccoli."
Vin made a face and Chris chuckled. "Yeah, it was pretty good."
"Too bad Ez couldn't have been here," Buck added as he dropped into a chair.
"I wonder how he's enjoying his Christmas," Josiah pondered.
"He's probably having a hell of a time at all those fancy parties," Nathan replied.
"I bet there's some fine looking women there," Buck said wistfully.
"Maybe," Vin said quietly.
Josiah looked at him questioningly. "You don't think so?"
Vin shrugged. "Just got a feelin' Ez ain't having as good a time as he wants us to think."
"What makes you say that?" Nathan asked.
"Nothin' in particular," Vin replied. "Just a feelin'."
Chris eyed him thoughtfully. Vin's feelings were usually close to the truth.
The phone rang and Chris went to answer it, while Buck and JD started wrestling on the floor. Vin entered the fray, jumping onto Buck's back when it appeared that he was winning. Josiah smiled indulgently and Nathan watched closely to ensure that they didn't injure themselves. None of them noticed the rapid loss of color from Chris's face until he said sharply, "When did it happen?!"
As one, the five men turned toward their boss, matching looks of concern on their faces once they saw Chris's expression.
"We'll be there in about an hour," Chris said, hanging up the phone. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to face his men. "Looks like you were right, Vin."
"What do you mean?" Vin asked, a feeling of dread settling into his stomach.
"Ez ain't having a very good time today," Chris replied. "He's in intensive care at Mercy Hospital."
"What happened?" the men asked, nearly in unison.
"They wouldn't give me any details," Chris replied. "All I know is that he got shot somehow."
"So much for tidings of comfort and joy," Josiah said sadly as he joined his comrades in heading for the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
The nurse's eyes widened at the sight of the six imposing men making their way determinedly toward her desk. She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it when her supervisor approached and motioned to her to leave. Grateful, she hurried away from the desk, but remained within earshot to see what these men wanted in her hospital.
"Mr. Larabee," Nurse Baker greeted the blond ATF leader. She was familiar with these men and was well aware of their tendency to intimidate her nursing staff.
"Where is he?" Chris demanded.
"He's in intensive care," she replied.
"What happened?" Nathan asked politely.
"Agent Standish was brought in at around ten o'clock this morning," Nurse Baker answered succinctly. "He was apparently shot while trying to thwart a robbery at a convenience store."
"Ten a.m.?" Chris asked incredulously. "That's eleven hours ago! Why weren't we notified immediately?!"
"I apologize, Mr. Larabee, but Mr. Standish had no identification on him, and none of the morning staff recognized him," she explained. "I came in for my shift at seven and called as soon as I realized that no one had been notified."
"Damn," Buck said, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Hell of a way to spend Christmas," Vin commented softly.
"Can we see him?" JD asked.
Nurse Baker sighed. She was supposed to limit visitors in the ICU, but she knew that such restrictions never worked with these men. "You can see him for a few minutes, but only two of you can stay at a time."
They grumbled, but accepted the conditions, following her apprehensively down the hall to Ezra's room. Quietly, the six men surrounded the bed where their seventh lay.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Buck asked, frustrated by the incongruity of the situation. "He's supposed to be in London with Maude."
"Well, he's not," Nathan said, frowning as he tallied the damage that was done to the undercover agent.
"How does it look, Nate?" Chris asked.
"It looks like he took a shot to the chest, probably through the lung – I'd guess that's why he's on the ventilator."
"Is he gonna be okay?" asked JD, worry etched deeply on his face.
"I can't say," Nathan answered. "I'll know more after I talk with the doctor."
The men looked at the livid bruises and bandages on the pale man's face and listened to the steady thrum of the respirator, wondering how their friend had ended up in this condition.
The doctor arrived twenty minutes later, stopping uncertainly inside the doorway when he saw the formidable group of men surrounding his patient. He cleared his throat and stepped into the room. "Gentlemen?"
"Doctor...?" Chris offered his hand.
"Robertson," the doctor supplied his name and shook Chris's hand. "I hear our John Doe has a name."
"Ezra Standish," Buck stated.
"Agent Ezra Standish with the ATF," Josiah added.
Dr. Robertson nodded. "That makes sense, considering the circumstances of his injury."
"How is he?" Chris asked insistently.
"The gunshot wound was quite serious," the doctor explained without preamble, sensing that these men would not appreciate any beating around the bush. "The bullet pierced the lung and bounced off of a rib, so we had to pick out some bone shards before we could stitch him up. He's a bit weak from blood loss, but he's doing quite well."
"What about the head wound?" Nathan inquired.
"We had to put in a few stitches along the hairline, but, aside from a moderate concussion, there was no other damage."
"Will he wake up soon?" JD asked, twisting the hem of his shirt nervously.
"It's difficult to tell," Dr. Robertson said. "He's suffered quite a trauma, so it could be as little as a few hours or as much as a few days."
Nathan nodded his agreement. "We'll be staying with him 'til he wakes up."
"I understand," the doctor said with a sympathetic smile. He had dealt with members of law enforcement before and knew it would be almost impossible to dislodge these men from the side of their fellow agent, even if he had objected to their presence – which he didn't. He, unlike many of his associates, felt that family and friends were often the best medicine.
"I do need to examine my patient, gentlemen," he said politely.
Chris gave a curt nod and herded his men out of the room.
"I just don't understand what he was doing in a convenience store today," JD muttered.
"Maybe he changed his plans," Nathan suggested.
"Lord, someone should call Maude," Josiah said, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Do we have her number?" asked Nathan.
Chris shook his head. "No. He told me she moved around too much and never gave me a contact number."
"He must have a number for her somewhere," Buck said.
"Why don't you and Vin go check his place?" Chris directed. "See if you can find anything."
Vin gave him a tense nod and headed down the hall with Buck.
"I'll go check the office," Nathan offered. "He may have an address book or something in his desk."
"I'm going to check with the PD, find out what happened," Josiah said.
"JD and I will stay here with Ez," Chris said, stating the obvious.
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