Work Text:
Title: Following Along The Way
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own The Magnificent Seven or Without A Trace.
Characters: Chris, Buck, Ezra, Nettie, Mary
Words: 1470
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven/Without A Trace
Pairing: None
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language, Angst.
Summary: A series of conversations.
Author's Note: Summer - 2000.
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Hand covering the lower half of his face, Chris sat watching the city going by below. He could practically feel the man seething behind him, but couldn't bring himself to care.
Buck leaned forward in his chair. "I think it's about time you told me why we traipsed halfway across the god forsaken country just to spend the night watching a phone booth." When no response came, he clenched his jaw and looked away. "Look, you've been keeping a lotta things secret for awhile now. I'm not only your team member, I'm your friend. I deserve to know what the hell is goin on, Chris."
"It's nothing." Shifting, Chris leaned to the other side of his desk chair. No matter how long he stared out over the world, it still didn't make any sense.
"Don't give me that bullshit! We both know something happened. You don't mobilize the team for a field trip." As he spoke, Buck stood up. He practically vibrated with anger. "I'm not leaving until I get answers to my satisfaction."
"There is nothing going on. Not any more." Chris didn't flinch when a fist impacted against his desk. Instead, he slowly spun so he could face the irate man.
The calm expression on the other man's face only served to piss Buck off that much more. He leaned over the desk enough that it took his weight. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I was wrong, and this is the last you will ever hear of it." Satisfied that this was his final answer, Chris spun his chair back to face the window.
A sick feeling suddenly started in the pit of Buck's stomach. "You were wrong about what?"
Chris didn't respond. There was no need, his friend was bright enough to answer that one on his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The noise inside the bar was way too loud for his taste. Ezra preferred to spend his off hours in the company of something soothing. That nice jazz club he had a stake in would have been a better place to meet. Unfortunately, the place wasn't up to him.
Checking on his drink, he wasn't a bit surprised to find that it wasn't even being fixed. The fool behind the bar had spilled more alcohol than he had gotten in the glass. It was a pitiful place to be holding a meeting.
A purse appeared on the bar next to him. The rough hide leather gave it more of a saddlebag appearance than a purse.
Ezra looked over to see her and snorted. "How very appropriate, my dear."
"Thank you." Taking her stool, Nettie thumped the bar twice. The tassels of her leather jacket swayed as she moved. "Two shots of whiskey with a single beer chaser."
The mere thought of the alcohol made Ezra wince. He swallowed as he faced the bartender. Amazingly enough, the man actually came over. Exhaling through his nose, Ezra glared at him. "Where is my drink?"
"Keep your shirt on, dude, it's coming." Twirling a bottle of whiskey, the man barely filled two shot glasses.
"I'm not stupid, Jack, fill them up, now." Fishing in to her bag, Nettie pulled out a twenty and set it on the bar. That done, she turned to face Ezra. "Why exactly did you want to talk with me?"
"Still direct as ever I see." Seeing that he wasn't to be served, Ezra turned away from the dick behind the bar. He cocked his head to the side and stared at Nettie. "I have been to Seattle recently. There, I happened upon a mutual friend of ours by the name of Young Mr. Fitzgerald. I followed him back to his apartment. Trust me, even applying the moniker is a generous compliment."
"I suppose you want some congratulations for your detective skills." Turning, Nettie reached over and picked up the beer bottle. Taking a swig, she exhaled through her nose. After swallowing, she faced him again expectantly.
Ezra snorted. This was becoming a bad habit. Being around these roughians were ruining his social skills. "What do you know about a woman named Madeline Eugenia Wattson?"
"It's a very long name, it makes her sound very stuffy." Sipping on her beer, Nettie shifted so she could look out at the bar. Cowboys and Cowgirls filled out every corner. She watched as several Line Danced in the center.
"Then I suppose if I were to inform you that her last name was now Fitzgerald would also make such an impression?" At her nod, Ezra rolled his eyes. So much for the art of subtlety. "It is not that Madeline is a Fitzgerald that interests me, but the fact that she has a sister named Nanette Ophelia Wattson."
Nettie shrugged. "So you've been doing your home work. What exactly do you want, Ezra, a gold star?"
Reaching out, Ezra grasped her hand in his own. He waited until she was looking at him before continuing. "I know your connection. What eludes my searches is why he was here."
"You should be careful, Ezra." She gently pried his hand off her own. "Some people have a wider reach than even their children understand."
This made Ezra's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he brought himself under control. "I'm afraid I do not follow."
"You've taken the time to do the research, follow it to its natural conclusion. Madeline has a son named Victor. He was a selfish, spoiled child that refused to let his sisters play games that he didn't approve of. I can't imagine he that he changed much as he grew up." As she took another swallow of her beer, she gave Ezra a serious look from the corner of her eye.
"No, I suppose not." He grimaced as he spun to face the bar. "Do you believe that Young Mr. Fitzgerald is aware of his circumstances?"
Nettie shrugged one shoulder. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done." As she finished off her bottle, she joined Ezra in staring at the bar. Her change was sitting neatly by her purse. After sticking it inside, she looked to Ezra again, studying his face.
Her observation soon unnerved Ezra enough that he stared back at her. Perturbed, he raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You know, I once had a great uncle by the name of Louis. He told everybody to call him Louie." Pulling her bag off the bar, she slung it over her shoulder. "He had the most striking green eyes I've ever seen on a man. My mother said he used to have red hair so dark it was almost brown when he was younger."
"Forgive me if I fail to draw any useful conclusions." Looking back to the bartender, Ezra tried to ignore her.
"I'm not surprised. You are thoroughly unlike him. My uncle was a boisterous man, he loved to tell stories and throw lavish parties. It was at one that he met his wife." She smiled at the memory. "She was only sixteen at the time, roughly one fifth his age."
That got his attention. "One fifth?" At her nod, he chuckled. "That would make him roughly eighty years-old."
She paused as if to consider this. "Yes, I suppose it would."
"I certainly hope he was wealthy." Snickering, Ezra went back to staring at the bartender.
"Oh, he was, but that isn't why she married him." She leaned in close to whisper to Ezra. "Word is, she was pregnant with his child by two months."
It was one step too far, Ezra couldn't stop the gasping fit that burst in to cackling. He had to close his eyes to keep from losing his balance.
"Well, I'm glad you find this so amusing. My mother didn't think so and swore he brought shame to the proud name of Stanfield." When Ezra gasped and started choking, she reached over quickly to pound his back. "Relax, take a deep breath."
Face turning bright red, Ezra glared at her over his shoulder.
Nettie grabbed the shot glasses in one hand. Pushing them in his direction, she smiled at him. "This has been very entertaining, Ezra. May be we should do it again some time."
"Count on it," he gasped out.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It was raining as he reached up and knocked on the door. His collar was turned up and his hat pulled down low, but even that wasn't enough to completely keep out the cold water. By the time the door opened, Chris was shivering.
Baby on her hip, Mary stared at him expectantly. "What do you want?"
"I've come to a decision." Clutching his jacket tighter about him, he met her eyes. "Can we talk?"
"I have nothing to say to you." Stepping back, she closed the door with a resounding thump.
THE END....................................