Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, so don't sue me, please. I do not own the ATF universe, that's all Mog. (The genius.)

Archive: Go ahead, just let me know please!

Warnings: Language, Violence

Rating: PG13

Universe: ATF - Open for all to play. (Thanks, Mog!)

Feedback: Oh, yes, please! I'm addicted.

Author's Note: I'd like to thank Steph for the awesome job she did beta reading for me. Her comments and positive feedback were a great help.

Prologue

Atlanta - April 1998

Frank Horner picked up the telephone and began to dial his old friend's number. The man would be in his office, Horner was sure of it.

This is for the kid's own good, he thought. He'll get himself killed if he stays here.

Horner knew the rumors were destroying not only Ezra Standish's career, but also what little faith the young man had in himself and those around him.

Someone finally picked up the phone on the other end. "Travis," a weary voice answered.

"Hey Orin. It's Frank."

"Frank, how have you been?" He noted Travis's voice seemed to gain a little cheer. Speaking with a friend can do that for you.

"Good. And you?"

"I've had my hands full with this new ATF unit that's being formed." Travis paused and Horner swore he could hear the gears

grinding in the man's head.

"So, why did you call?"

Horner laughed. "It's about your ATF unit."

"Hmmmmm. It's not really mine. I had to give Chris Larabee free reign to get him to agree to head it. He's hand-picking his agents."

"Oh no, but knowing you, you're still very much involved in the process."

Travis harrumphed. "I try."

"Has Larabee found himself an undercover?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"I have the man for you. Ezra Standish is the best undercover I've known."

"And you're willing to let him go?" Travis asked suspiciously.

"I'll be honest with you. He needs to get away from Atlanta and the FBI. Rumors are killing his career. He's been labeled as

crooked - but he's not."

"And you're sure?"

"I know this kid, Orin. He's as clean as you."

He could hear Travis sigh. "Fax me his records, but I make no guarantees."

"Thanks. I know your man needs Standish, and he needs this chance."

* * * * * * *

Orin Travis stepped out of his office with a briefcase in hand, and smiled tightly at his receptionist. "I'm off to the trenches, Alice."

Alice knew the judge had been tense during the time Chris Larabee had been forming the new ATF unit. And the last piece

Larabee needed was an undercover agent.

"Say hi to Buck for me," she smiled.

Travis sighed, shaking his head as his receptionist laughed and left the offices.

He was passing a file on one Ezra Standish to Chris, and he'd be lying if he didn't admit to having some reservations. Standish was unorthodox, at best. But he trusted Horner, and besides he promised.

Travis stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the floor that housed the new ATF team.

He stepped off the elevator and was assaulted by Jimmy Buffet being played at a ridiculously high volume.

"Dammit Buck!" Nathan Jackson shouted. "Turn it down!" The black man, who was normally calm, was rapidly loosing patience.

"What?" Buck Wilmington shouted, smiling. "Can't hear ya!" The mustached agent was enjoying himself. In his days as an officer on the Denver PD, he wouldn't have been part of such a relaxed atmosphere.

Josiah Sanchez was stuffing cotton into his ears, JD Dunne was focused on his computer screen, ignoring everything around him, and Vin Tanner was sleeping at his desk, oblivious.

Chris stormed out of his office. The blond agent's green eyes were flashing. "Gawd dammit Buck! Turn that shit off!"

Buck hit the power button on his portable CD player. "Happy everyone?" his voice dripped sarcasm.

"Yes," Travis answered.

Everyone's eyes snapped over to the former federal judge who was now their director.

"I have that file I wanted to show you," he informed Chris.

Chris nodded. "Let's go into my office."

Chris ushered the judge into his office, shutting the door behind them. He seated himself behind his desk and Travis lowered

himself into the chair across from him.

Travis opened the briefcase he carried and passed Chris the file on Standish. "I took the liberty of doing a background check, but feel free to conduct one of your own."

Chris began to skim over the file. "Not much on our boy beyond his personnel file."

"Not really, but I questioned his superiors and some of his fellow officers from his days in the Atlanta PD. He's generally not well liked and stand-offish, but the officers he served with on Vice Squad say he's a good officer."

"It's rumored he's corrupt," Larabee stated simply.

"The man who gave me his file believes in him, and I believe in my friend."

Chris was looking over the file. "Frank Horner? You trust his judgment then?"

Travis sighed. "Yes. Despite what I may think looking at Standish's record, I'm willing to place my faith in Frank's judgment. His loyalty doesn't come easy."

"I'll take a few days to review his record, then I'll decide," Chris said thoughtfully.

Travis nodded and left Larabee's office.

* * * * * * *

Nearly two months after Frank Horner had informed Orin Travis of Ezra Standish, Standish entered the federal building for his first day on "permanent loan" to the ATF.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped off the elevator was how empty the floor was that housed Larabee’s team. Of course, this was an experiment of sorts and they were the only ATF unit currently in place. If Larabee and his men were successful, then there would be a Denver branch of the ATF. And apparently, according to rumors, someone expected success, because Ezra heard that another federal agent was already setting up shop here and seeking out agents.

Ezra went to a far corner of the floor, where Larabee’s team was located. From what he knew, and he knew a lot about his new assignment, there was a good reason for this team to be located in an isolated corner. He had heard the rowdy crew the moment he stepped out of the elevator. Inwardly he cringed as he heard distorted strains of heavy metal blaring.

Choruses of "Shut that off!" were shouted over the noise.

Ezra stopped in the open doorway where Larabee’s subordinates were gathered in someone’s cubicle. He stood quietly and observed their dynamics.

He spotted Tanner – dressed in his usual torn jeans and buckskin jacket – next to a young man (boy?) with dark bangs that fell over his eyes. He recognized him from the personnel file he had pulled on the team. JD Dunne was the team’s resident computer expert and surveillance specialist.

"Ya all are just too old to appreciate Metallica," he was saying, while Tanner smirked.

As various arguments broke out amongst them, Ezra stepped forward, clearing his throat. Everyone fell silent.

He was glad his training kept him from showing his discomfort, as the silence seemed to stretch on forever.

Larabee stepped up. "Agent Standish," he broke the silence and extended his hand.

"Mr. Larabee."

Vin smiled at Ezra and nodded in greeting.

"Let me introduce the rest of the team," Chris stated. "JD Dunne is our surveillance expert and computer whiz," Chris indicated, confirmed Ezra’s information.

"Of course you know Vin, our sharpshooter, next to JD."

Ezra smiled in agreement.

"On the other side of JD is Buck Wilmington, demolitions man and my second in command." Ezra managed not to comment on the fact that he had originally believed Tanner to be Larabee’s second when they had been in Atlanta to recruit him.

Standish decided to finish the introductions himself, since he knew everyone’s file. Larabee would either be impressed or pissed. Ezra really didn’t care.

He held out his hand to Josiah Sanchez. "I presume you are Agent Sanchez, the team’s profiler."

Chris chuckled, amused. "I see you did your homework."

Ezra nodded. "Force of habit in my line, you understand." Then he turned to Nathan Jackson. "Mr. Jackson, resident medic. I understand it’s a must with these gentlemen to have medical care on the premises."

Jackson narrowed his eyes, unsure if the southerner was being insulting or not. "I’ve read your file too," he said evenly. "Impressive record. The rest . . . " he trailed off.

Standish didn’t’ rise to the bait. "I thought you would. Actually, I’m sure everyone has looked up my credentials."

JD dropped his eyes; the thought never crossed his mind. Something he should have considered, being a federal agent.

Ezra noted the youngest member out of the corner of his eyes. "Mr. Larabee, could you spare one of your men to show me around today."

Chris looked thoughtful. "Sure . . . "

"How about Agent Dunne?"

"No problem," Larabee hoped he was right about Standish, and that the man only wanted to help the younger man feel more comfortable about his oversight. Dunne looked slightly pleased.

* * * * * * *

It didn’t take Dunne long to warm up to the role of tour guide. He seemed genuinely interested in Standish, as an agent and a person.

"So whadda you think of Denver?"

Ezra shrugged. "It certainly is picturesque. But Atlanta had more, excitement, shall we say."

JD furrowed his brows. "Well, Denver’s exciting."

"I’m sure it is," Ezra smiled. "I just haven’t had the chance to see much of the city."

JD nodded in understanding. He was beginning to like Ezra. The man had begun to treat him like an equal right away. "You know, after work we go over to the saloon to unwind."

"Saloon?"

JD blushed. "It’s actually a bar, being there ain’t any real saloon’s anymore. But it’s kinda decorated like one, you know?"

"I see," Standish agreed with a smile. "Maybe we can have lunch there?" He then stopped in his tracks and turned to Dunne. "What sort of fare do they serve?"

The young man was puzzled. "Food," Standish supplied.

"Ohhhh! Well hot dogs, burgers, steaks, salads. A bunch of stuff."

"Sounds all right."

* * * * * * *

Ezra and JD sat in a booth at J. Watson’s Bar, or the Saloon as JD aptly described it. A young Mexican woman set their orders before them.

"Thanks, Inez. Hey, this is the new guy, Ezra Standish," Dunne introduced. "Ezra, this is Inez Recillos, the manager."

"Senor," Inez smiled extending her hand in greeting.

Ezra grasped it and raised it to his lips, kissing her hand. "Senorita. You run a wonderful establishment."

"Gracious." Inez nudged JD. "You and your amigos should learn your manners from Senor Standish." JD blushed and chuckled as Inez left them.

They discussed Denver and Atlanta for a while.

"Was it wrong that I didn’t look up your record?" JD asked suddenly.

Ezra looked thoughtful. "Well, Mr. Dunne, it wasn’t a mistake, per se. How long have you been in law enforcement?"

"A little over a year. Why?"

"Over the years, you will find your instincts becoming more honed. After this, ah, incident, next time you will remember to research incoming candidates more closely."

"Okay, sure. Well, how long have you been in law enforcement?"

"Nine years, but it feels like forever."

Dunne smiled thinly. "I suppose so."

Ezra cleared his throat. "Yes, well, what have the others told you about me?" Standish couldn’t fathom why this youth’s opinion mattered. He chalked it up to missing his morning coffee before reporting to Larabee.

JD colored slightly. "Well, Vin said he had a real good feelin’ about you. He’s good at peggin’ people on the first outing."

"Has he considered undercover work?"

"I don’t think so," he chuckled. "He doesn’t like suits and ties."

"I would never notice."

"How long did it take for you to read people?"

Ezra thought back over the years. "Not long at all," he answered quietly.

* * * * * * *

"So whadda ya think of Standish?" Tanner asked Dunne that night as they sat in the Saloon.

"He’s a good guy," JD mumbled around a mouthful of fries.

"How would you know, kid?" Wilmington teased.

JD threw a glare across the table. " ‘Cause he didn’t treat me like a kid."

"So."

"So, Buck, he . . . I can’t explain it."

"They said he’s corrupt," Jackson stated simply.

"Do you believe it?" Josiah asked.

Nathan shrugged. "Can’t say. I don’t know him yet. What do you think?"

Josiah scratched his chin thoughtfully. "His personnel file describes him as an excellent agent, despite rumors and innuendo. There was no evidence found. No, what caught me was the gaps in his medical records. They’re restricted. Highly unusual," he hummed.

Nathan gave him a puzzled look. "I noticed that too. Just the basic information from his time with the Atlanta PD to today."

"What’s it mean?" Buck asked.

Nathan and Josiah both shrugged. "Could be because of the work he does," Nathan offered. "You’d want any info people could find on you kept to a minimum."

"That makes sense," JD agreed.

"So, JD," Chris joined in. "What was your opinion of the guy?"

"He was interested in what I was sayin’ and didn’t mind questions. And I know I can get kinda nosey. He didn’t seem to mind. We chatted over lunch, which he paid for. Even though I told him I should pay, him bein’ new and all. But he insisted. Told me to take advantage, he normally don’t offer to pay for anything."

"I think he’ll do fine," Vin added. "I don’t think he’s what they say he is."

"Well, if brother Vin likes him, I reckon I’ll like him too," Josiah rumbled with a laugh.

* * * * * * *

Ezra entered the federal building around 11 o’clock the next day, thinking it was entirely too early, despite sipping the Starbucks espresso in his hand.

Standish was aware of the stares he received from his teammates as he exited the elevator. He seated himself at his new desk in the cubicle he shared with Tanner.

"Hey, Ez," Tanner said, chuckling. "Yer late."

"It wouldn’t happen if either mornings started later or if this office kept more appealing hours. And I do wish you would remember my given name is Ezra."

"Sure, Ez."

"Mr. Tanner, you are incorrigible."

"Thanks Ez."

"Standish!" Larabee shouted from his office.

"Yer in deep shit, pard."

"Yes Mr. Tanner, thank you for your encouragement." Ezra pushed away from his desk with a resigned sigh.

Larabee was glaring at the southern man when he entered the team leader’s office. "You are late Agent Standish."

"I realize that Agent Larabee, but I am accustomed to working grave-yard. I’m sure my record shows that. My mother always

considered me a ‘night-owl.’ "

"Well, I suggest you get your ass used to keeping normal hours."

"I shall endeavor to try Mr. Larabee."

* * * * * * *

"Hey, Ez," Tanner spoke up at the end of the day. "Why don’t you come with us to the saloon." He looked up from his computer screen as he finished the last of his paperwork.

"I appreciate the offer Mr. Tanner," Ezra answered smoothly, "but I have not fully settled into my new abode."

"Huh?" Vin face showed his confusion.

"My home. I am trying to get settled into my new townhouse."

Ezra punched one last button on his keyboard, then stood to leave. "I do believe I am ready to retire for the evening. Have a nice night."

"Back at ya, Ez."

Tanner watched as Standish retreated into the elevator.

"He’s not very social, is he?" Josiah asked from the doorway to the pair’s cubicle after the doors closed.

"Nah, not really."

"He seems polite," the profiler observed with a grin. "All spit an’ polish."

Vin chuckled. "I was thinking more of the slippery, greasy type."

"That too."

For the past nine days Ezra and the team were preparing themselves for a bust they were assisting the DEA with. They were glad to finally have something to do, besides "setting up house" as Travis had called it.

When the day of the bust came the team was in high spirits.

"Shit, Chris," Buck began lazily. "It’s about damn time we have something to do, besides all that paperwork."

JD nodded his head vigorously in agreement. "I know. Who to contact in case of emergency. Next of kin. Those I understand. But community service performed, charitable donations, volunteer work done. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Mr. Dunne, they simply want to get ‘feel’ for who you are and your standing in the community. Volunteer work will make this department look noteworthy in the public eye," Ezra answered. "And yes, it is tedious."

"What the hell does ‘tedious’ mean?" Buck asked.

"I believe brother Ezra said it was ‘boring’," Josiah supplied.

"Why don’tcha just say boring?" Buck pointed out in exasperation.

"Consider it my duty to enlighten you to the finer points of the English language."

"In other words, he plans to teach you how to speak English," Nathan clarified.

"I know how to speak English!"

* * * * * * *

Ezra was in position between the two warehouses. In one of them, a drug deal would take place. But no one was clear on which one, not even the DEA’s informant. So agents were stationed in and around both buildings.

When he heard someone approaching, Standish hid between the wall of the north warehouse and the large trash bin.

As the person passed, Ezra carefully looked to identify a possible suspect. His breath caught from shock as Terry Rossi passed. Ezra knew him from his days in Atlanta.

Mario Gianello and his crime ring were Ezra’s first undercover assignment for the FBI. Terry Rossi, along with Rick Nera, were Gianello’s bodyguards. Ezra entered their organization as a bookkeeper – Bob Arno. After nine months of working the case, his cover was mysteriously blown. Frank Horner, his supervisor, pulled him out immediately. They suspected that someone in the Bureau tipped Gianello off, but they never found out who.

One month later Rossi and Nera approached Ezra to "buy him off." While he 'talked' with the gentlemen, someone hid in the shadows and took pictures. Somehow, the pictures ended up in the hands of his superiors and he was labeled as crooked. And now Rossi was here in Denver.

Ezra carefully trailed Rossi to a limo parked behind the warehouses. Standish wondered if the other agents were still in place, or if the deal was already in motion and they were inside one of the buildings.

He had his answer when he heard shots fired in the south warehouse.

Carefully he covered the ground back to the warehouse and peered into a window.

His team and the other agents, clearly outnumbered, were being unarmed. Standish considered his options quickly, and then settled on one.

Larabee was seething when Standish casually strolled into the warehouse, hands raised.

"Ah gentlemen. It seems you are not as good at your job as you thought."

All attention was now focused on the young southerner. He smiled, dimples appearing in full force. Slowly he lowered his hands.

Then a small derringer appeared in his hand. He shot one dealer between the eyes before diving for cover behind a stack of crates.

Team seven snapped into action, disarming the guards around them. Chris used one man as a shield and took out two more.

In less than ten minutes, team seven and the DEA were in control. Larabee and the others were still cleaning up when the blond leader spotted Standish gripping his left shoulder and sitting against the stack of crates.

All movement ceased as Larabee stormed over to Ezra. He grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and hauled him to his feet.

"Don’t you ever fuckin’ run out on me again!" Larabee shouted. He threw Standish back against the crates.

Standish tipped an imaginary hat at the leader and Chris stormed away before he could give in to the temptation to kill the son of a bitch.

"Somethin’ wrong with that arm?" Jackson asked as he approached.

"Nothing I can’t handle, I assure you," Ezra ground out through clenched teeth. He’d dislocated the same shoulder before in a bust during his days with the Atlanta PD.

Nathan shrugged when Ezra began to walk away. When the man had his back to him, the medic grabbed the arm and popped it back into place.

Standish spun around with startling speed and pinned the black man against the wall and pulled back his left fist to strike him. He paused when he realized he could use his arm and released Jackson.

Nathan slapped him on the other shoulder and strolled away. "You’re welcome," he called over his shoulder.

* * * * * * *

"Well, pard," Vin drawled as he leaned back in his chair in the saloon. "Our first assignment was a success."

Chris scowled at Tanner. There were times that it seemed like Tanner could read his mind, and he hoped Tanner was reading it right.

Tanner grinned. He read him right, but chose to ignore the threat.

"Barely," Jackson maintained. "Good thing Standish wasn’t caught with the rest of us."

"Well, I’d like to know where he was," Buck insisted.

"Me too," Larabee growled out.

"Did you ask?"

Larabee turned his glare to Josiah. "No," was the curt reply.

Josiah shrugged.

"I wish Ez would of joined us," JD said.

"Aw, hell. He don’t never come drinkin’ with us," Buck announced. "And he don’t really strike me as the shy type."

"Some folks are intensely private people," Josiah said rather firmly. "Just ask brother Chris."

Everyone smiled as they heard Chris growl.

JD sighed tiredly. "He’s a mystery, isn’t he?"

Buck chuckled. "Chris or Ezra?"

JD narrowed his eyes in exasperation. "Ezra," he snapped.

Vin shrugged. "Maybe," he said enigmatically.

* * * * * * *

Ezra ignored the light switch by the door as he entered his darkened townhouse. He made a beeline straight for the kitchen and pulled a bottle of scotch out of a cupboard. After pouring a glass, he shuffled into the living room and dropped down into his recliner.

He blindly hit the play button on the answering machine to review his messages.

Ezra sighed, figuring he’d need to call people soon. It had been nearly a month since he talked to family or friends.

He picked up his phone and started dialing.