Part 1
ATF Universe
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just taking them out to play for a while.
Warnings: None
Rating: PG (language)
Genre: gen, h/c, angst
Summary: After a trying case, Ezra heads off for a relaxing weekend indulging in one of his favorite hobbies. True to form, things don't go quite as expected.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to my betas Axianna, and Sevenstars. Thanks also to MOG for creating this wonderful universe for us to play in.
Notes: The towns of Danville and Hadley are figments of my imagination. Also, I am no expert on the hobby in question, so all mistakes are my own. This story is my response to the March 2002 Challenge offered by Katherine, summarized below.
Give any one of
the seven a hobby the other six do not know about, until events conspire to
bring it to their attention. Hobby must not be anything previously mentioned
in other stories...i.e. no working at a shelter for Josiah, no piano playing
for Ezra, no working with neighborhood kids for Vin. You get the idea. In
essence I want to know what one of the boys does with his down time, and the
reaction of the others when they find out. They aren't
always working.
To see the graphic that goes along with this story, go to: http://www.uplinktech.net/violette/m7/freefall/freefall_index.html
The day had dawned clear, warm, and sunny, perfect weather for his first free Saturday in more than two months. Ezra lowered his window, allowing the warm summer breeze to ruffle his hair as he drove toward his destination at the unusually early hour of seven AM. He smiled as the tension that had been his constant companion in the past weeks began to fade. His teammates had been concerned about him, trying everything possible to coerce him into spending time with them this weekend, but he was adamant about having some time to himself.
The eight weeks he had spent undercover had been more stressful than usual, since their target, an arms dealer named Charles Kendall, had insisted that he stay as a guest on his large estate. The man had a sadistic streak, and Ezra had had the misfortune of witnessing some of that brutality during his stay. One such incident occurred during his first night at the estate, when he had watched helplessly as Kendall beat one of his employees nearly to death over a minor transgression. The mercurial man also threw parties several times a week and, with liquor and drugs flowing freely, there were many similar altercations. It wasn't uncommon to see some of the guests leaving with bruises, bloody noses, or split lips.
It didn't take much to ignite the gunrunner's temper and Ezra found himself monitoring his own actions closely, so as not to antagonize the man. It had been a struggle to keep his emotions hidden in the face of the frequent violence, and the strain of being forced to maintain his cover continuously had taken a lot out of him. When they had finally gathered enough evidence to close the case, Ezra decided that he needed to spend some time alone to recapture his sense of self. His teammates meant well, but he needed some space and time to relax without their often-overwhelming concern. Though, if they knew what his idea of relaxation was, they would never have left him alone this weekend.
Ezra chuckled as he pictured his teammates' reactions to his hobby. Vin and JD would probably want to join in, but he suspected the others would want to have him committed. It wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone, though, even going so far as to use an alias in all of his dealings with it so that no one could connect the two. It wasn't so much that he didn't want his friends to know; he just needed to have at least one thing in his life that was his alone. If nobody knew about it, they couldn't take it away from him.
It was something he had learned early in his life. At one of the boarding schools he attended, he had been coerced by some of his classmates into trying out for the hockey team, ostensibly to provide them some amusement, since they fully expected him to fall flat on his face. Ezra would have turned them down, except the word 'bet' had been mentioned. He had wagered that he would not only survive the first round of tryouts, but would actually make the team. It was a bet he had won, much to his – and everyone else's – amazement.
He was a natural at hockey. Ezra chalked it up to the ballet lessons his mother made him endure. "It ensures good posture and grace," she had told him in response to his complaints. The classes had also given him excellent balance and flexibility, both of which aided him in this new endeavor. He hadn't minded the ballet classes so much, but he hated being forced to do anything, especially by his mother.
It had surprised Ezra to find that he actually enjoyed hockey immensely.
Team sports were not something he had much experience with, but he found that
it wasn't as bad as he had expected. His teammates were friendly and even
seemed to like him, especially after he had proven his skill at the game.
It was the most he had ever enjoyed school, but unfortunately, it didn't last.
Maude found out about his new extracurricular activity and reacted in her
usual fashion.
|
"Ezra Patrick Standish! What on earth were you thinking?" Maude stood before her twelve-year-old son with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. "I was thinking that I like to play hockey," Ezra calmly replied. "I will not have you participating in such an ungentlemanly activity!" she stated crossly. "It is a sport for hooligans, not people of breeding." "What breeding?" he retorted sarcastically. His mother's reply was a hard slap to his face – the first time she had ever struck him. Ezra stared at her in disbelief, clutching a hand to his face. Maude froze for a moment, apparently shocked herself at what she had done, but she recovered quickly. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway, since you'll be attending another school shortly." With that bombshell, she turned and walked away. |
Ezra smiled bitterly at the memory. Maude had divorced her husband and remarried while he had been away at that particular school, and he was soon shuffled off to a different boarding school favored by her new spouse. He had later attempted to find ways to play the game he had come to enjoy, both for his own pleasure and to spite his mother, but Maude had made sure that he wouldn't be allowed to participate in any school-related team sports.
After several unsuccessful attempts to join the hockey team at his new school, Ezra realized he would have to employ subterfuge if he wished to attain his goal. His mother had covered her bases at the school and included all team sports offered there in her blanket disapproval. Instead, he had looked outside of school, to a local hockey program in the town where the school was located.
It was this experience that had taught him the value of a good alias. To make sure he wouldn't be found out, Ezra had created his first false identity and made sure his activities couldn't be traced. He had had a great time playing on that team and had enjoyed the freedom of being someone else. His team had even won the league championship and, for the first time, he had been completely free to enjoy the camaraderie and friendship that normally went along with participation in such a sport.
It had been his first triumph over his mother's authority, one she had never discovered. His victories in his lifelong tug-of-war with Maude were few and far between, but that one had given him his first taste of independence. Ezra smiled smugly to himself at the thought. That one experience had given him the confidence to do it again, whenever Maude objected to something he wanted to do. He had made great use of false identities when he started rock climbing in high school, and kayaking in college, both being activities that his mother would have forbidden, had she known. He did have to give his mother some credit, though. Without her constant attempts at controlling his life, he never would have had as much practice at deceit and would probably not be as good an undercover agent as he had become.
With a rueful shake of his head, Ezra pushed those thoughts from his mind. The day belonged to him and he was determined to enjoy it. A smile slowly grew on his face when he spotted the sign for the small airport. As he pulled into the parking lot, the smile turned into a full-blown grin in anticipation of his day. Locking the Jaguar, Ezra headed eagerly for the small building that housed Wheeler Air Adventures, a small air charter service. As he pushed through the door, he was greeted heartily by a tall, burly man with salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines on his tanned face.
"Evan! Damn, it's good to see you!" The man grinned widely as he vigorously shook Ezra's hand and clapped him on the back.
"Brian," Ezra greeted him with a smile. Brian Wheeler was a forty-nine year old Air Force veteran who had started the small air service business with his brother after retiring from the military. The two owned seven planes, which they used for small charters, cargo runs, and what Ezra liked to call 'adventure flights'.
"What the hell happened to your face?" Brian grasped Ezra's shoulders, peering intently at the bruise that spread out from underneath his dark sunglasses.
"I caught an elbow in the face during a pick-up basketball game," Ezra lied smoothly, giving the other man a sheepish smile. He wasn't about to tell him that he got the black eye while trying to subdue the bodyguard of an illegal arms dealer. The people here knew nothing of his real job. To them, he was Evan Stewart, a successful investment banker. It wasn't a difficult cover to maintain, since he had substantial investment skills from years of managing his own portfolio. During college, he had worked several summers in an investment firm and had been mentored by several stockbrokers who had enjoyed teaching an eager young student about the intricacies of the investment world. The skills had come in handy over the years in building his substantial nest egg, as well as giving him the knowledge needed for undercover roles as a financial expert – something that was usually in demand among the criminal element, since they were always interested in finding new ways to manage their ill-gotten funds.
"You gotta learn to duck," Brian said with a laugh.
"No kidding," Ezra said, rolling his eyes. "Still, it won't hinder today's activities."
"Good, good," Brian said. "We've missed you around here, you know. Steve is looking forward to seeing you again. What's it been, two months?"
"Nearly," Ezra replied. "I'm afraid my business has kept me out of town quite a lot recently."
"Well, let's get you suited up and in the air," Brian said, giving Ezra a gentle shove into the next room.
The six men rode their horses along the shady path, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh mountain air. The past two months had been difficult for the rest of Team Seven, and they needed relaxation as much as their undercover agent. They had all worried about Ezra while working long hours to build the case against Kendall. He was the first undercover agent to get close enough to acquire the evidence needed to put him away. It hadn't been easy, since Kendall was smart and had managed to elude capture for a long time, but their hard work had paid off and the man was behind bars. The stress had been high on this case and the team was glad of the chance to unwind now that it was over.
Vin spurred his horse closer to Chris, who led them along the peaceful trail. "You still worryin' about Ez?" he asked quietly. He had noticed that his blond friend had been much more pensive than usual.
Chris shrugged. "He was looking kind of wiped out when he left yesterday."
"Wouldn't you be?" Vin said with a snort. "He was under for a long time. Hell, he only got out to see us twice, and that was only for a few minutes. Gotta be tough bein' someone else twenty-four-seven for that long."
"I wish he would have come out with us today," Chris said. "'Least that way we could keep an eye on him. Buck said he went by his place this morning before heading out here, and he wasn't home. It ain't like him to be out of bed so early on a Saturday."
"I don't blame him for wantin' to be alone for awhile," Vin said. "Easier to be yourself that way."
"What are you saying?"
"I believe he means that Ezra doesn't need to pretend when he's by himself," Josiah interjected. "If he were here with us, he would feel he had to act like everything is fine, so we wouldn't spend our day worrying about him instead of enjoying ourselves."
"You think something's wrong?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"Not necessarily," Josiah said. "I think he just needs some time to decompress and be himself, without worrying about anybody else."
Chris sighed. "I suppose. But I still want to keep an eye on him."
"Don't worry, Chris," Josiah said with a chuckle. "Between the six of us, that shouldn't be a problem."
The hum of the engines was like music to his ears and Ezra couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face. He looked to his left and studied the other five passengers sharing his flight. They were seated on the two benches that ran the length of the passenger compartment of the small plane, and each of them, three men and two women, had looks on their faces ranging from excitement to fear. He could understand that. Jumping out of a perfectly good airplane had a tendency to inspire such emotions in a person.
Ezra sighed contentedly and adjusted the straps holding his parachute to his body. He had been skydiving since he was fifteen years old. One of his many stepfathers had been an avid pilot and skydiver and had been more than willing to introduce his teenaged stepson to his favorite hobbies. Though Maude had disapproved, she had acceded to her husband's wishes, much to Ezra's delight. He had immediately become enthralled with both activities and had earned his pilot's license by the time he was seventeen. Unfortunately, Maude had quickly tired of the man and they were divorced after less than three years. He was the one stepfather that Ezra had been sorry to lose.
"Hey, Evan!" Steve Wheeler, their pilot and also the co-owner of the air service, shouted from the cockpit. "Want to drive for a bit?"
"Next run," Ezra called back. "I'm just a passenger this time."
Steve laughed and waved at him.
"Do you do this a lot?" the woman seated to Ezra's left asked him.
Ezra turned to her and nodded, noting the apprehensive look in her eyes. "I've been participating in this sport for many years. It becomes easier after a time, but the thrill never goes away."
She smiled nervously. "I'm Helen Garvey." She offered her hand.
Ezra shook her hand and smiled. "Evan Stewart."
"This is only my second time," Helen said. "The first was a tandem jump, so this is my first time doing a solo."
Ezra looked over her shoulder to the man seated next to her, who grinned back at him. "Don't worry, Helen," Ezra said reassuringly. "Mark there is one of the best instructors around. I believe he was jumping out of airplanes before he was even out of diapers."
"Oh, and you weren't?" Mark said teasingly.
Helen smiled, amused by the good-natured banter.
"You're in capable hands," Ezra said, patting her hand.
"Thanks." She gave him a grateful look, before turning back to Mark, who started going over the procedures one last time.
Ezra closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. In another half hour, they would be past the mountains and over the fields where they usually jumped and where trucks would be waiting to drive them back to the airport. Ezra hoped to complete at least three jumps – more if everything went especially well – before day's end. The familiar tingle of anticipation was building and Ezra was looking forward to those first moments after leaping from the plane. The sudden weightlessness, the sensation of air rushing past his body, and the feeling of ultimate freedom that came with soaring through the sky could not be matched by anything else he had ever experienced.
He had never considered himself a thrill seeker, but, considering what he did for a living, Ezra supposed the term suited him, after a fashion. Pulling what amounted to a con job on dangerous criminals was not for the faint of heart. He would never admit it to anyone, but he truly enjoyed weaving the intricate web of deception that resulted in a criminal being apprehended. There was always a rush of adrenaline when a case came to a head, but Ezra didn't consider that his primary motivation. The thing he enjoyed the most about his work was doing something worthwhile and making a difference in the world, however small that difference might be. The thrill of the chase was simply a nice bonus.
The stress of his work sometimes got to him, but that was what hobbies like this were for. Some might find it odd that he found skydiving to be relaxing, but it worked for him. The adrenaline rush was still there, but without the stressful overhead of searching for evidence or maintaining a complex cover persona. He considered Evan Stewart to be more of an alter ego than a cover. He was Ezra Standish without the baggage, a man who could let down his guard and do whatever he wanted without worrying about appearances. And today, Evan was going to have a hell of a good time.
A sudden jolt roused Ezra from his introspection and he looked sharply toward the cockpit. Steve appeared to be fighting the controls and Ezra immediately dropped his helmet, unclipped his seatbelt, and started toward the cockpit to assist him. He was nearly there when another jolt shook the plane, sending him crashing into the left side of the cabin. Over the cries of the other passengers, he could hear Steve frantically shouting a mayday into the radio.
Ezra pulled himself to his feet and headed for the cockpit once more. The plane shook again and rolled sharply to the right, knocking him off his feet. He slammed into the right side of the aircraft and felt his left arm snap at the impact. Reaching out blindly in a desperate attempt to right himself, he grasped the first handhold his fingers found and held it tightly, trying to pull himself off of the floor of the shuddering aircraft. He realized his mistake a moment too late. In his confusion, he had inadvertently used the handle of the jump door to pull himself up. The aircraft's violent pitching and rolling quickly threw the door open, and the suction of the air rushing past the opening pulled Ezra out of the airplane before he could do anything to prevent it. His head bounced off the edge of the doorway as he passed, knocking him unconscious as he tumbled into the air.
After finishing their ride, the six men gathered on the deck behind Chris's house for a barbecue lunch. Chris manned the grill, while Nathan and Josiah put together a salad in the kitchen, determined to include something healthy in their lunch.
"I put some chili on for dinner," Josiah said as he came out onto the deck.
"That'll go great with the ribs," Vin said, snagging his third hamburger off of the grill.
"Ez don't know what he's missing," Buck said.
"Wonder what he's doin' right now?" JD mused as he took a bite of his hamburger.
Nathan, carrying a bowl of salad through the door, shrugged. "He said he was planning to relax. I'll bet he went to one of those fancy resorts where they feed you champagne and caviar and give you massages and mud baths and stuff."
"Yeah, that sounds like Ez, all right," Buck agreed, wiping some ketchup off his mustache. "He don't like doing anything strenuous. He's probably taking it easy, sleeping late and hangin' out in a hot tub all day." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if they have lots of women in those places?"
Chris rolled his eyes and looked at Vin. "One-track mind."
Vin nodded his agreement. "Yep. But I reckon he's right about the women."
"We'll have to ask Ez when he comes in on Monday," Chris said with a grin. "Might be a nice kind of place to visit. I wouldn't mind a massage and a beautiful woman or two keeping me company in a hot tub."
Vin laughed. "I think I'll stick to camping. Wouldn't want to get too used to that kind of treatment."
"Well, wherever our brother is, I'm sure he's enjoying his time off," Josiah stated. "That boy does know how to pamper himself."
The wind was whipping through his hair. Ezra frowned. He didn't remember it being quite so breezy. He opened his eyes and stared down at the green carpet that was drawing ever closer. Green carpet? His eyes widened suddenly as he realized his predicament.
"Oh shit," Ezra whispered as he began moving his body into position. A sharp gasp escaped him at the bolt of pain that knifed through his left arm, but he ignored it, focused only on his immediate problem. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the ripcord. The sudden deceleration sent fresh waves of pain through his arm, but he breathed a sigh of relief when his chute deployed flawlessly. It was closer to the ground than he would normally choose to pull the cord, but he was thankful that he had regained consciousness in time to do it at all.
The danger had not completely passed, though. There was still the matter of the forest beneath him. Ezra searched for a clearing or break in the foliage, but there were none that he could see. This keeps getting better and better. He sighed. All he could do was aim for the most open spot he could find and pray that he didn't injure himself further in the trees. Of course, having only one working arm with which to steer his parachute was making that somewhat difficult.
A loud noise to his left startled him, and Ezra turned his head to investigate. His eyes widened in horror as a huge explosion erupted from the forest some distance away, sending plumes of smoke and flame skyward. He looked up hopefully, but saw nothing but empty blue sky. Tears sprang to his eyes as he realized what had caused the explosion and he felt suddenly guilty that he alone had been spared the fate of the others on the plane. Ezra searched the sky again, looking for any sign of survivors, but there were no other parachutes interrupting the clear blue expanse.
Ezra had often been told that he was lucky, but he had never believed it. Certainly, he had escaped from many a difficult situation, but he considered that to be more a result of his hard-won skills. Anyone could do the same, with the proper amount of effort. He had learned early on not to depend on anyone or anything else. He certainly would not trust his fate to something as fickle and unsubstantial as luck.
Pushing his distress aside, Ezra turned away from the conflagration and looked down at the ground that was still rushing towards him. There would be plenty of time for grief later... if he survived his landing. He awkwardly maneuvered his parachute, steering it toward a tiny gap in the forest. His feet were brushing the treetops when a sudden gust of wind negated all his efforts at steering, blowing him directly into a large tree.
Ezra's breath left him in one great rush when he slammed bodily into the thick pine tree and began to descend rapidly through the dense branches. He fought in vain to keep the branches of the tree from inflicting any more damage, covering his face with his good arm. Several cracked ribs, contusions, and lacerations later, he came to an abrupt halt as the parachute snagged in the branches. He swung forcefully into the tree again, this time hitting his head on the trunk. Aw hell, was his last thought as the blackness engulfed him.