Ezra slowly descended the stairs of his townhouse. It was too early in the morning for this. Too early in the morning for anything. He climbed in behind the wheel of his Jaguar, but then just sat there for a moment, rubbing his eyes. It wasn't even dawn yet. Barely half past five. He never could believe that some people actually chose to wake at this God-forsaken hour, day in and day out, to go to work, to exercise, to do whatever the hell it was that people did at a quarter to dawn in the morning. Ezra slept. They were the best hours of rest, in Ezra's opinion, and he didn't appreciate being deprived of them.

But, he couldn't say no when the phone rang. As much as he'd thought about ignoring the incessant ringing, he knew he couldn't. The only people who had his cell phone number were the six men he worked with at the ATF. If any of them were calling, no matter the hour, then it was important. He'd rolled over, reached for the phone, and answered.

"Standish," he slurred. His eyes were still blurry with sleep, but his mind was razor sharp. "Vin? ...Of course I can. ...No, it's no bother. Where are you? ...I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Once in his car, he started the engine, allowed himself one final yawn before releasing the parking brake, and then pulled out of his garage. The traffic was light, even given the hour. He made it across town in less than fifteen minutes. He pulled into one of the 30 Minute Limit parking spacing near the entrance, and then headed inside.

Hospital emergency rooms, so it seemed to Ezra, were pretty much all the same, no matter the location or the time of day. Always full of moaning people waiting to be seen by over-worked doctors and nurses. He headed for the reception desk. A thin, middle-aged woman in a pale blue sweater sat at a desk behind a thick piece of bulletproof Plexiglas. Ezra wondered for a moment if his car would be safe outside in the parking lot.

"Yes?"

"I'm here to see Vin Tanner."

The woman nodded, then turned away to sort through a stack of files. When she turned back the question she asked surprised Ezra. "Are you with the police?"

"No" he said. He didn't know why she would ask such a question, so he decided to play along until he could suss out the situation. "I'm with the ATF. Special Agent Ezra Standish." He reached inside for his badge, and then held it against the Plexiglas so the woman could clearly see it.

"Um ... please wait here. I'll be right back."

She walked away and Ezra's instincts told him this wasn't a simple bar brawl, as he'd assumed when Vin had phoned. A few minutes later, she returned to her desk, but said nothing. Then the double doors that read "Authorized Personnel Only" opened. A single uniformed policeman stepped through.

"Officer Frank Werther."

"Special Agent Ezra Standish, ATF." Ezra held out his badge instead of offering his hand. The officer only glanced at it. "I'm here to see Vin Tanner."

"What's the ATF got to do with this?"

Ezra quickly surmised that Vin had failed to mention his occupation. He wondered if that was a habit, if Vin intentionally kept his personal life and his private life that separate. He smiled graciously at the uniformed man.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to talk about on-going investigations, officer. You understand. But, if our supervisors deem it appropriate, I'm sure whatever information you may require will be duly forthcoming."

The man nodded, and then turned to the receptionist and nodded again. A buzzer sounded and Officer Werther headed back toward the double doors; Ezra followed.

"Domestic violence," the officer explained as they walked. The words surprised Ezra, causing his stomach to give a sudden, sickening twist. "The doc called it in after the ambulance dropped them off. Janson wants to press charges, but it looks to me like Tanner's the victim here. Except for a broken arm, Janson doesn't have a mark on him."

"Is the photographer finished?" Ezra asked, knowing the procedure from his days on the force in Atlanta. The officer nodded.

Ezra couldn't imagine how difficult that must have been for Vin, having to stand there and be photographed, knowing those photos would be reviewed by a dozen eyes before they were even placed in a file, knowing they would be dragged out again should this thing go to court.

Ezra wanted a moment alone with Vin, to find out what in the hell was going on. "If I may, officer, I'd like to speak to Mr. Tanner first." Ezra purposely did not call Vin "agent" — if he wanted to keep his occupation to himself, that was his business. "And then to Mr. Janson. Would that be all right with you?"

The officer nodded, and then gestured toward a door on their left. "Tanner's in here. Janson's down in exam room four."

"Thank you, officer."

Ezra pushed open the door and found Vin lying on the exam table. He sat up quickly, and then unsuccessfully tried to stifle a groan obviously caused by the sudden effort. A large, white bandage was wrapped around Vin's ribcage, but above that his chest and shoulders were exposed, revealing large, fist-sized marks that were already turning into dark, nasty looking bruises. Vin's face was in worse shape: a split lip still oozed blood, a butterfly bandage covered the bridge of his nose, and a row of stitches marred his cheek, just under his swollen left eye.

"Tell me the other guy looks worse," Ezra said lightly. Vin didn't nod or smile, as Ezra had hoped he would — as Vin, or any one of them, would have had this been the result of some righteous fistfight — defending one of their own, or someone who wasn't in a position to defend him- or herself. "What happened?"

"Broke his arm."

"Why?"

Vin finally looked up at Ezra, his eyes blazing. "You suddenly blind or somethin'?"

"Hardly. You very clearly look like ground round," Ezra replied, trying not to allow Vin's sarcastic tone to bother him. "So, what happened?"

Vin sighed in response.

Ezra hated that he asked, but if Janson was pressing charges, Ezra felt he needed to know. "Just the condensed version for now."

"Eric hit me," Vin said, and Ezra noted the use of the man's first name. He also noted that Vin had used the word "hit" rather than something more plural, which, in Ezra's considered opinion, would have been more appropriate, given the extent of Vin's obvious injuries.

"And his injury occurred ... how?"

Vin shrugged. "I asked him to stop; he wouldn't. I grabbed his arm.... That's about it."

"Self-defense?" Ezra needed confirmation and Vin nodded. "Fine. I'll be right back."

Ezra headed out of Vin's room and then down the hall to exam room number four. Inside, he found Officer Werther who introduced him to the other man in the room. "Special Agent Ezra Standish, this is Eric Janson. Mr. Janson, Agent Standish would like to speak with you for a few moments, if that's all right with you."

The burly, blond-haired man sitting on the exam table squinted his eyes for a moment, but then nodded.

"Would you like me to wait outside, Agent," the officer asked, but Ezra shook his head.

Ezra then walked over to the far wall and flipped on the light behind the x-ray that hung there. The fracture was clean and simple, almost exactly bisecting the man's radius. He wondered how the ulna had been spared. It was either a lucky shot on Vin's part or he was a good deal more adept at hand to hand combat than Ezra had been led to believe.

Ezra then turned around and looked at the man sitting on the exam table. Ezra noted the sling supporting the cast on his right arm. He also noted that his shirt was merely draped over his shoulders, leaving his chest exposed. Ezra looked, but could not detect any suspicious marks — no cuts, scratches, or bruises. "Mr. Janson? Why did you hit Mr. Tanner?"

"Hey, I'm the one with the broken arm here! Why don't you ask him why he lost it and tried to rip my arm outta the damn socket?"

"So, you did nothing to provoke Mr. Tanner?"

Janson looked over at the officer, but Werther gave him no assistance.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Janson said after a few moments.

Ezra nodded. "So, you're not responsible for the cuts and bruises on Mr. Tanner?"

"He broke my arm! I had to defend myself."

"Are you right or left handed, Mr. Janson?"

"Right," he said, sounding very leery all of a sudden.

From the cut on Vin's cheek, Ezra knew Janson had inflicted it prior to having his arm broken. With even a half-decent lawyer, no court would convict Vin of assault and battery, though he might have trouble if excessive force was brought into it, given his Special Forces training. He didn't want Vin to have to go through that. He had to do what he could to put an end to this right now. "And you still want to press charges against Mr. Tanner?"

"I got a right to press charges! He broke my arm for God's sake!" Janson insisted.

Ezra nodded as he paused to collect his thoughts. "Mr. Janson. It is my considered opinion that, were this to go to court — given the statements and the photographic evidence Officer Werther has so thoroughly gathered — it will be you who is convicted of assault and battery. Now, I don't know if you've seen the brochures, but prison is not the luxury resort you might think it to be; I assure you, it's not like it is in the movies." He refrained from naming titles he'd seen while serving on the Vice Squad: Jail Bait, Dead Man Coming, Chain Gang Bang, American History XXX, Bad Boys, Prison Heat. No one truly liked the thought of going to prison, not when faced with the real possibility.

Ezra paused again, watching Janson's reaction. Ezra was certain the vindictive, self-righteous gleam in the man's eye flickered for a moment and then died.

"I strongly suggest that you drop the charges against Mr. Tanner." Ezra then turned to Werther and gave a small nod indicating that he was finished.

The officer came over with his black book open and pen at the ready. "Mr. Janson, it's entirely up to you. As you've stated, it is your right to press charges. Mr. Tanner has the same right."

"You telling me that if I drop the charges, Vin will, too?"

"I can almost guarantee it," Ezra said before the officer could speak.

"Aw'right. I'll drop the charges. Okay?"

"If you're sure, Mr. Janson. I hope nothing like this will happen again between you and Mr. Tanner ... or anyone else."

Janson nodded. Werther closed his book and then gestured for Ezra to precede him from the room.

Once in the relative privacy of the hallway, Werther spoke. "Tanner refused to press charges."

Ezra nodded; he'd suspected as much.

"That got something to do with not compromising the case you're working on?"

"Something like that."

Ezra led the way back into exam room one. Vin was still sitting on the table, still with his shirt off.

"Mr. Janson has decided not to press charges," Officer Werther told Vin. "I'm still going to have to file a report. The statements and photographs will be on record should anything like this happen again. Do you understand that?"

Vin nodded.

"All right," Werther said with a small shake of his head. "I'm not going to detain you any longer. You can go whenever the doctor says it's okay."

Vin nodded again.

As Werther opened the door, Ezra stepped up beside him. "Thank you, officer. I appreciate your cooperation on this."

Werther made a small frown. "Just doing my job, same as you." Ezra nodded as he gave the man a friendly clap on the shoulder. When the door closed, Ezra turned back to Vin who was now struggling to pull on his t-shirt. Ezra took two quick steps over to the table, and then helped Vin ease the fabric over his head. He gently tugged the material down to cover the bandage wrapping Vin's ribs; he wondered how many Janson had cracked.

"Thanks. The doc said I could go when the officer was finished with me."

"Then let us be on our way," Ezra said. He held the door for Vin, and then followed him to the reception desk where the thin woman with the blue sweater was still seated. Vin signed the forms she gave him, and then they headed out to Ezra's car.

"Thanks for coming to get me," Vin said from the passenger seat once Ezra had crawled in behind the wheel.

"Well, I can't say that it's my pleasure, because I hope you know that seeing my friends in the emergency room is not something I enjoy. But, I'm glad to be of assistance. Still, I would have thought you'd have called Chris."

Vin shook his head. "Didn't want him involved. You know how he can get."

"Yes, indeed." Chris had a reputation for losing his temper, especially in defense of his own team members. More likely than not, he would have riled Janson and made things worse; Janson probably would have brought Chris up on assault charges by the end of it. "You're still going to have to tell him about your ribs."

"I know."

"So, are you going to tell me how you ended up here?" Ezra asked before starting the engine.

"Thought we'd been over that already."

"I was thinking more along the lines of how it happened, rather than what had happened," Ezra said as he began to pull out into the street.

"Can you take a left? Gotta get my Jeep," Vin said.

Ezra nodded, checked the traffic, and then pulled across the double yellow line. After a few minutes of silence, Ezra prompted Vin. "And then what happened?"

"Look, Ez ... I didn't mean to get you involved in this. It's nothin'. Really."

"Vin, I'm just concerned. You obviously know that man. This wasn't some random bar fight; this wasn't you playing hero because some poor citizen was being harassed. This was about you and him. So, please, tell me. I want to help."

"You already helped. Ain't nothin' more to be done," Vin said.

Ezra thought that would be the end of it, thought that Vin would just leave it at that. It was his prerogative, after all. This really was none of Ezra's business, if Vin didn't want it to be. But then Vin said something more.

"Eric — Janson — he, uh ... he and I...."

"Are dating?"

"Were ... I guess," Vin corrected, which lightened Ezra's heart slightly. "We were supposed to have dinner last night...."

"But you came to the Saloon with the rest of us, just like usual." Vin hadn't said anything about a date, and he'd stayed until eleven thirty, leaving when the rest of them had.

"Yeah. I, uh, I guess I forgot. Only, I don't even remember him saying anything about dinner. I think I woulda remembered.... Anyway, by the time I got to his place, the food was cold ... the candles were burned halfway to stumps.... He was pretty mad."

"Drunk?"

Vin shrugged. "Don't think so, though I reckon he mighta had some wine." Vin fell silent again; Ezra kept driving. "Turn up here. Take a right ... then at the next light, hang a left."

"So, you missed dinner?"

"Yeah. I told him I was sorry, but he chucked a plate of ... I think it was lasagna at my head. I ducked. That just seemed to make him madder. He, uh, he shoved me up against the wall ... I musta said something ... I don't remember ... then he hit me."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra saw Vin reach up and touch the skin just below the stitches on his left cheek.

"Nailed me good. The back of my head hit the wall so hard I didn't even realize my face was bleedin'. I told him again that I was sorry. And that's when he just started walin' on me. I tried to get him to stop, but I don't think he was listenin'. When he didn't stop, when I couldn't take anymore, I grabbed his arm.... I didn't mean to break it ... just wanted him to stop hittin' me."

Ezra nodded. "Was that the first time he'd ever hit you?"

Vin shook his head. "No. But it was the first time he didn't stop when I said I was sorry."

Ezra suddenly remembered the bruises he'd seen on Vin over the past few months ... one or two, here and there. A string of clumsy accidents none of them had even considered might actually be domestic violence. Vin never talked about the men he dated, and every member of their team was obviously too polite (or too self-involved) to pry into Vin's private life, even after the incident earlier in the year with that no-account Zachary.

"And is this the first time you ... fought back?"

Vin was silent for a few moments. Ezra wondered if he should have worded his question differently.

"Yeah. I was afraid I'd hurt him. And I did."

"Vin, you were defending yourself. That's your right."

"I'm an ex-Ranger, Ezra. I'm an ATF agent. I coulda killed him as easily as I broke his arm."

"The point is, you didn't. You did what you had to do to stop him, and nothing more—"

"Pull over here. There's the Jeep." Ezra pulled his Jag to the curb and Vin was out of the car before Ezra could say another word. "Thank, Ez, you know, for the ride and stuff. See ya at work." Before Ezra could reply, Vin slammed the door; Ezra cringed at the sound.

He watched as Vin climbed into the beat-up Wrangler, which looked only marginally better than Vin did at the moment. As he waited for Vin to start his engine, Ezra took the time to glance over at the apartment building where Mr. Eric Janson undoubtedly lived. He wondered if Vin had any personal items in Janson's apartment, if he had a key and would have gone inside had Ezra not been there, watching. He wondered if Vin would have cleaned up the remains of their uneaten dinner — washed the dishes, scrubbed the tomato sauce stain off the wall, mopped the blood off the floor....

As Vin pulled the Jeep away from the curb and headed down the street, Ezra wondered if Vin would ever see Janson again, or if this was indeed the end of their "relationship." And he wondered how Vin could be such a confident, self-assured ATF agent, capable of gunning down anyone who threatened a member of their team, and then go home to someone who beat him for something as inconsequential as cold lasagna. Perhaps it was Vin who was the better undercover agent; perhaps it was Vin who was better at playing a role, at pretending that the things that cut so deep didn't really hurt, didn't really matter.

~ fade ~

Series Index

April 2003

Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.

Thanks to my beta reader for her kind attention and helpful suggestions.

Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.