"It is basically a question of determining how and when to reposition oneself to best to elude any projectile JD, nothing more I assure you. There is really nothing remarkable about my survival in this so called ordeal."

"Nothing remarkable?" the young man responded. "Really. Shot in the head, dumped from a moving car down a hill, left out there for 12 hours – no. Nothing at all remarkable in any of that. Buck, explain it to the man please."

"Sorry Kid, that is beyond my language skills. Ezra doesn't want to admit that this is one of Josiah's miracles, I can't be changing his mind. I'm just glad he's around to fight with!"

"I simply cannot comprehend why you all choose to deem this escapade to be worthy of such consideration. It was nothing more than a flesh wound, if I may be permitted to use the vernacular in this circumstance."

"Pard, you can use whatever you want. Just enjoying hearing you talk."

"Really Vin? Because most of you commonly would indicate a preference that I cease my rhetoric by this juncture in my convalescence.

"What can we say Ezra - this one's a bit different."

On his first full day of consciousness after 36 hours for drifting in and out, Ezra was surrounded by the rest of his team. The FBI's investigating officers had come and gone, taking a rather limited statement from the recovering agent. His memory of the details was still sketchy, and because of Taylor's report, there really wasn't the need for an in depth interview, so it had been an easy session for him. Now, after another brief nap, he was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his doctor, with the intention of convincing the woman to let him go home.

"So you're going to insist this was just a matter of ducking at the right time?"

"Well Nathan, you heard the doctor herself confirming this trifle of an injury was nothing more than a graze. It all derives from to rotating one's head at the precise moment. That way the projectile merely skims across the surface, resulting in sufficient blood to look daunting, without actually causing any injury."

"I substantiated no such claim Mr. Standish, and I will thank you not to misconstrue my diagnosis in such a cavalier manner." Dr. Cavanaugh stood in the door.

"She talks as fancy as you do Ezra – you may have met your match." Vin laughed.

"I am simply attempting to reassure my compatriots of the inconsequentiality of the wound."

"Well you'd being lying to them. Your 'trifle' was a skull fracture resulting in a concussion. In addition, you suffered blood loss and it would appear you have elected to overlook the fact you have been unconscious for most of the over 48 hours since you were shot. You also have multiple contusions and abrasions from tumbling ass over teakettle down that hill. So, in answer to the question I know you are about to pose – no you cannot go home."

Chris broke into a wide smile as he looked at the others. "Oh – I like her. She's good."

"I doubt you would be quite so taken if this vitriol was aimed in your direction Christopher."

"It is not vitriol Mr. Standish. I am your doctor, and I know what is best for you. However, out of respect for the nursing staff on the floor, and in deference to their sanity, I will agree to allowing you to leave tomorrow. Providing there are no changes to the pace of your improvement. And providing you can convince one or more of these gentlemen to take on what I am sure will be the rather daunting and stressful task of ensuring you follow the rules I will insist upon." She looked to Larabee for confirmation.

"We will arrange something to spare your staff the nightmare of dealing with him any longer than need be. We get how challenging that can be."

"You all do recollect I am present in the room, listening to all of this? So wonderful to find your true feelings toward me in my hour of need."

"Take it easy for the day Mr. Standish, and I will be by in the morning to sign your release."

Ezra dropped his routine for the briefest of moments. "I do thank you for all you did for me Doctor. I deeply appreciate the fact I am able to go home in one piece."

"You had more to do with that than I did, but you're welcome." She smiled at him before turning to leave.

"You just can't turn off that southern charm can you?" Buck chuckled.

"Jealous?"

"Ridiculous." He was hardly about to admit it.

"Well gentlemen, I trust you will understand if I request to be allowed to rest and recuperate further in order to be permitted to escape this confinement for the comforts of my home tomorrow."

"My home Ezra." Chris corrected. "You'll be spending a few days at the ranch. And, if I hear one word of argument, we will tell the good doctor that we can't keep an eye on you and you'll have to stay here instead."

Knowing when he was holding a losing hand, Ezra folded quickly. "I will accede to your request, at least for 48 hours. After that, I would hope we can re-evaluate the situation. I'm sure you all have far more important things to deal with that watching over me due to a minor abrasion."

Nathan finally lost the ability to hold his temper. "It was no abrasion Ezra. Or scratch or scrape or graze or nick. You. Were. Shot. In the head. The fact you didn't die like we were told is nothing shy of a miracle."

They were all grateful Ezra was not standing at that moment as they saw the colour drain from his face and his body go limp. "Dead? You were told…you thought I was dead?"

"Well yeah." Buck was surprise their friend hadn't known that. "Taylor saw you shot and was told you were dumped. What else would we think?"

"But, I had no idea. It never occurred to me that you had been so misinformed. I deeply regret that I have been so dismissive in light of this turn of events." He looked at Chris. "I'm sure your superiors were less than pleased that all the effort in the investigation was for naught with my perceived death. That my negligence would result in having to start all over –"

"What the hell are you talking about? What negligence? Never mind – not important. Nobody gave a rat's ass about the case Ezra. You seriously think that was the problem?" Chris was stunned.

"Well certainly it was a concern. Although I will admit with as much humility as possible, that the loss of an undercover operative with my expertise, not that it was evident on this venture, would also be a blow to the team."

Vin starred at him, slowly rising to his feet and moving to within a foot of his bedside. "You're serious here. You really don't get it, do you? The case, the job, the ATF. None of that matters. WE thought YOU were dead. Our friend. Hell man, our family. We thought you were dead. Do you really have such a piss-poor opinion of yourself that you don't understand what that meant to us? What that means to us?"

Ezra was, for once in his life, speechless. He looked at the shocked and hurt looks on the faces of his teammates. JD and Josiah had tears in their eyes, and he feared he was close to such a state himself. Buck's head was down, shaking softly from side to side in disbelief. The others were similarly muted by emotions.

"I am sorry. I didn't – I don't understand. I cannot say that I have ever had a circumstance where anyone cared about whether Ezra Standish – the man – survived the day. It is an unusual situation for me to accept. I cannot comprehend this."

"How would you have felt if you'd been told Vin was dead? Or Buck, or JD or –"

"Yes Chris, I understand your question. And it would kill a part of my soul. You are all more important me than any others have ever been, and the loss of any of you would cut me more than even I can express."

"So why is it so hard for you to see it from our side?"

They could hear the ticking of a clock as the silence shrouded the room. Finally, he spoke very softly. "Because I believe Vin was correct."

Vin cast his mind back to what he'd said, then fought the lump in his throat. "Shit Ezra. Who the hell convinced you that you were worthless?"

"And would you mind if we beat the crap out of him for a while?" Buck added.

Josiah looked into the wounded man's eyes, then turned to Buck sadly. "Don't think that would work friend. No matter how much you may think it was deserved, you could never hit a lady. And regardless of his personal conflict, I don't image Ezra would want you hitting his mother, would you son?"

There was no response from the bed. Vin found he was repeating himself, loudly.

"Well Shit Ezra. Sorry – but she ain't no lady, and not much of a mother if that's true."

"I would request of you sir to not speak that way about her. She may not be the iconic representation of motherhood you all are familiar with, but she is all the family I have."

"No she's not Ezra." Nathan countered, equally disturbed by what he was hearing. "You've got six brothers right here. And if it takes our dying breath, we will convince you of that.

"Ezra?" Vin's voice was gentler now. "Please look at me Ezra." He slowly raised his eyes, but couldn't get the internal strength to look Vin in the eyes. He couldn't deal with the pity that would be there. Be on all of their faces. "I'm truly sorry. I had no right to say that. I may not think much of some things your mother did, but I have to be grateful to her. Cause without her, there wouldn't be you, and none of us would be as good as we are now."

Ezra didn't risk speaking. He did force himself to lift his gaze to meet Vin's, and was relieved to see nothing but sincerity in those eyes. He looked away again, swallowing several times and clearing his throat before trying to speak.

"Gentlemen, I find I must be truly exhausted, as I cannot think of an appropriate response at this time, and I do not believe you have ever known me to be so thoroughly at a loss for words. And to have it occur twice in one day is a deplorable circumstance. Might I ask you to leave me to rejuvenate myself, and possibly address this issue again at some future date?"

"I think what you are saying here is you want to sleep and we'll talk later. Why can't you just make it easy for poor old Buck to understand you Ez?" JD set out to provoke his friend with a good natured smirk.

"I understood him just fine Kid. Ezra and me are kindred spirits that way – right pal?"

"Indubitably sir." Buck's eyebrow arched briefly and quite deliberately in puzzlement at the response.

"We will talk Ezra." Chris insisted quietly. "We need to."

"I accept that. Perhaps in a few days? At the ranch?"

A sense of contentment settled over the room as they watched their friend – their brother – doze off again. Family wasn't always easy, but it was always worth the effort.

The End. (For now)