Last Man Standing

by Squeakypeep

Disclaimer: Not Mine… no profit.

Acknowledgements: Mog’s Universe - Thank you.

Warning: none

The Seven go skiing in Aspen….

He was out of control.

He was an accident waiting to happen.

He hadn’t felt completely in command of his limbs since the team vacation started but he had just turned the corner of uncoordinated and had entered the realm of ‘Oh Shit!’

Powerless to prevent it, he watched the catastrophe unfold, seemingly in slow motion.

He winced as he struck his first obstacle.


Josiah was the only member of the team who had never skied and Vin and Ezra, both qualified instructors, had taken turns early in the weeklong vacation to teach him the basics. He had spent a couple of days on the nursery slopes with Ezra, learning how to stop, fall safely and snowplough.

Unfortunately for the Undercover Agent, Sanchez quickly found that by far the easiest way to stop was to grab the back of Standish’s jacket and use him as a brake. The undercover agent’s expensive designer skiwear was not made to withstand such harsh treatment and had been torn three times in the first two days.

On the third day, Ezra was relieved to pronounce him proficient and pass him on to his partner for further instruction.

The team sharpshooter had introduced him to the ski tow and chair lifts on the intermediate slopes. That hadn’t been a complete success either.

The first time he’d taken the chair lift he’d done a triple circuit.

Vin had stood at the top of the hill and watched open mouthed as the big preacher had been borne around the turning circle and carried back down the hill, still firmly fixed in his chair. On the second pass the profiler held up his hands defensively and yelled that Vin hadn’t told him how to get off.

By the time Sanchez arrived at the top the third time, Vin was ski-less and ready to haul him off himself. They’d landed in an ungainly tangle of limbs in a puddle of well used slush.

The Texan had been singularly unimpressed. As an expert skier, he shunned the clumsy snowsuits in favour of his usual jeans, his only concession being the addition of a down jacket.

The damp patches made him look like he’d lost control of his bladder and the wet denim was cold and clammy and chaffed at his nether regions for the rest of the afternoon.

On day four he managed to tip JD off the T-bar tow, causing a major pile up before the system was halted for twenty minutes while 15 disgruntled skiers untangled themselves and trudged back to the bottom to start over.

On the fifth day he toppled an entire ski school, like a trail of foul-mouthed, cussing dominos, when he turned unexpectedly into Nathan’s path, driving him into the topmost student in the group of beginners and setting off a chain reaction down the line. Eventually the recriminations had got so heated that Chris had had to intervene, glaring the protesting holidaymakers into silence.

On day six Buck had to rescue him from an angry crowd of diners when he misjudged a turn and ended up launching himself face first onto one of the tables on the balcony of the Halfway House Restaurant.


On the last day of the vacation the seven men went out as a group.

The more proficient skiers, which basically meant everyone but Josiah, snaked down the mountain in a stylish weaving line. The physical power and technique displayed by the six experts prompted many lesser skiers to stop and stare.

Vin was in the lead and occasionally he would halt the train and wait while their novice caught up. They each took turns to ‘mind’ him and the profiler was soon tired of curtailing their collective enthusiasm.

‘Just leave me at the back and I’ll follow you. You don’t need to baby-sit me JD.’

Dunne looked dubious. He’d had to pick up the big profiler twice already and he’d only been in charge a few minutes. ‘Are you sure, Josiah?’


JD grinned gratefully and put his earphones back in. Nodding to his friend, he set off at speed.

Josiah followed, trying to go as fast as he could to keep up.

This turned out to be a major error in judgement.

He soon lost control of his skis and, therefore, of his limbs.

He watched in horrified fascination as he began to pick up speed and gain ground on the rear of the snaking trail of unsuspecting ATF Agents ahead of him. His size and weight made his momentum increase at an alarming rate.

He quickly caught up with Nathan, directly in his path.

Jackson was admiring the view of Aspen when he was suddenly tackled from behind. He found his skis wedged between Josiah’s and was thus unable to manoeuvre to stop their progress. They continued forward unchecked, picking up Buck and Chris as they went. The addition of the extra weight hastened their rate of acceleration.

Further down the slope, oblivious to the human steamroller bearing down on him, Vin decided to call a halt and wait for everyone to catch up. JD and Ezra each pulled up beside him in a shower of snow and the three turned as one to look up to see how far behind their friends were.

Not far enough.

The tangle of four big, muscular bodies was only a few feet away, approaching at speed on a direct collision course. Ezra and JD scrambled desperately to get out of their path, while Vin just stood stock still, bracing himself for the impact. He managed to mutter a quick, ‘Aw Hell’ before the entire group of Denver’s most elite ATF team were wiped out in a spectacular explosion of white.

As the powdery snow settled the scene of carnage became clear.

Tanner was plastered at the bottom of the writhing, groaning human pyramid.

On top of him was Dunne, dazed and spluttering.

Standish was next, spitting out mouthfuls of snow and ice.

Next came Larabee, glaring at the snow as if the heat of his gaze could make the whole lot disappear.

Across his back lay Buck, who was peering through lopsided, snow filled goggles.

Hat askew, Nathan sat atop the pile like a king on a throne, balanced in the center of Wilmington’s chest.

They all craned to look at the cause of their downfall.

Stationary, but surprisingly still on his feet, the last man standing just smiled sheepishly at them.

In the peaceful silence of the snowy mountainside, the sound of JD’s Walkman was tinny, but the music and lyrics were clearly audible. There was a snort from somewhere in the pile as they listened to Elton John bellow out,

‘I’m Still Standing
Better than I ever Did
Looking like a true Survivor
Feeling like a little kid….’

The End

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