Work Text:
Title: Give Me These Moments.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own The Magnificent Seven or Without A Trace.
Characters: Ezra, Nettie, Chris.
Words: 1211
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven/Without A Trace
Pairing: None.
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language, Angst.
Summary: Ezra attends the funeral of a friend.
Author's Note: Autumn - 1999
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Taking off his sunglasses, Ezra wiped his brow with the handkerchief from his front pocket. There were days when it seemed like hell was loose upon the Earth. Today was no exception, and not just because the unbearably hot sun either.
He glanced over at the the others, their black suits were in various shades and styles. Much to his dismay, none of them were cut to their wearer's frame. Then again, he supposed one need not spend that kind of money on a suit intended to be worn only once. It was more poetic this way, a better fit so to say.
Funerals were never the places to make a fashion statement. It was about grieving for those lost. Still, Ezra couldn't find it in himself to stop the critiquing. That was simply who he was.
As the drone of Josiah's voice trailed off, he pushed his hat up to wipe all the way to his hairline. A chorus of 'Amens' echoed on the lawn, reminding him of nothing so much as parrots. When he had gone to church as a child, the one time, he had been fascinated that so many people could be taught to speak as such.
The novelty had worn off very quickly.
An almost sigh of relief went through them as Josiah laid a hand upon Chris' shoulder, effectively ending the ceremony. Officially, they had come together to mourn the passing of a dear friend. In reality, it was merely an excuse to impress their persons upon their leader. If he fell, they would all be lost.
As they turned to head for the house, Ezra slipped his sunglasses back on. He was under no illusion about why they had come. None of them on the team had ever really taken the time to get to know the man. Their words were as hollow as those spoken in the church all those years ago. It was all just an echo to placate the masses.
Ezra watched as Chris headed off ahead of everyone. The sight of Buck following quickly behind was no great shock. It simply meant that he would have to bide his time, though. In the mean while, there were others who actually knew the man.
Reaching up, he touched the top of his hat as he approached. "Mrs. Wells, I am deeply sorry for your loss."
Staring up at him from under her own hat, Nettie studied his face for a moment. When she was through, she snorted. "Can it. I know the truth."
"Very well." He released his hat and inclined his head. "Then, may I offer my services in the near future."
"I don't believe so." She reached out and grasped his hand. Nettie held it up so he could see his own fingers. "The kind of work I need done would ruin your pretty nails."
"Ah, but that is not all I can assist you with." Ezra cast a quick look back to Chris' house, then smiled at her. "I am aware of the fact that you recently came in to possession of a large sum of money."
Nettie looked unimpressed.
"I also know while that account's assets have been liquidated, deposits on another which you benefit from continue. Both have the same source. Very interesting." Leaning in close, he lowered his voice to keep others from prying. "Tell me, my dear, just how did you and Mr. Tanner meet?"
"I'm afraid that is none of your business." Pulling off her white gloves, Nettie matched them, then folded them in half. Putting them in her jacket pocket, she gestured to the house. "Are you coming in, or do you wish to linger in the yard with the rest of the animals?"
His smile was knowing as he took another step closer to her. "I know."
"Of course you do, dear, but that is something you'll never be able to prove." With a put upon sigh, she wrapped her fingers around his elbow. "Let's get out of this unholy heat. My feet stink enough under their own power, I don't need sweat stains added to it."
"A wise woman." Turning back to face the house, he gestured for her to lead them on.
~~~~~~~~~~~
There was what could loosely be termed as music playing in the next room. Ezra could more feel than hear it as he slipped in to Chris' office. A quick glance about the darkened room revealed what he wished to find.
Sitting at the desk, his face buried in his arm, Chris was unconscious. A slight snore echoed in the office.
This caused Ezra to sigh. He had been hoping to catch the man awake. As he came near, he could smell the familiar stink of whiskey. Ever since the man had come back from New York two weeks ago, it had become a familiar accentuant.
Walking softly, he crept up to the desk. Since he couldn't talk to him, a note would have to suffice. It was probably better this way. The pen and paper were easy, they had been pushed to the side to make room for the whiskey and glass. Now the question was what to put.
It ended up being simpler than Ezra had thought. They were seven words that would change the very foundation of the sleeping man's world. It was written in block letters to disguise his own hand writing. A quick rub down with Chris' discarded jacket removed any prints. This was cowardly, but until he had more proof, the anonymous approach was probably best.
After checking to make sure the note was placed in an obvious position, Ezra crept back to the door. Despite the way he had gone about it, Ezra felt a little better about the situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taking off his hat, Ezra hung it up on the peg just inside his door. It was one of his favorites. He had brought it with him through four job changes.
The mail was in his other hand as he walked towards his kitchen. He wasn't hungry, but he could do with a snifter of good brandy. The stuff they had served at the funeral had been just awful.
Once inside the kitchen, he reached up to turn on the light. He debated getting his drink first, but figured angering up his blood when he was trying to relax was counter productive. So, he examined the stack of bills.
The first three were all plenty standard. His creditors loved him, but the feeling was most assuredly not mutual. They would be dealt with later. It was the forth letter that drew his attention.
The post mark was in New York, but he knew that was just a front. The only writing was his name and address. Even the stamp was generic enough to appear harmless. Ezra knew differently.
With almost shaking hands, he tore it open. There was no time for grace and decorum. Once the seal was breached, he checked the contents. It was but one index card with writing on one side.
'Leave it alone.'
It smelled faintly of Lilacs in June. While it was obscure, the message was loud and clear.
Glaring at the card, Ezra considered burning it. "What are you up to, Mother?"
THE END.........................