Author's note// indicates thoughts projected or read by another/ italic writing indicates personal thoughts.
Their still not mine. I'm still broke. I still want them. Would someone give them to me please? I promise to share.
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He'd a Give Us Wings
ATF Offices of Team 7
Denver, Colorado
Six members of ATF Team 7 watched the door of their superior's office from their desks with trepidation. Larabee's curses carried easily into the outer office.
"Ezra, are ya in trouble?" Vin Tanner drawled, using the opportunity to take a break from the hated paperwork.
"Mr. Tanner! I am insulted sir," Ezra responded with his characteristic theatrics. He had only joined the team two weeks earlier. The aloof man had proven quite capable of holding his own among the misfits.
"You didn't answer the question," JD observed, his pencil thoughtfully tapping on the desk, while he leaned back in his chair.
"I am unaware of any action of mine which would have resulted in Mr. Larabee's diatribe," Ezra exclaimed. "What perchance have you and Mr. Wilmington embarked upon recently?" he asked smoothly, deflecting the blame once more.
"Can't think of any thing that would set him off like this," Buck decided after along moment of considering his recent sins. "Vin what'd you do?" Buck questioned.
Vin shook his head "I been real good lately," he said innocently.
Chris stood at his office door glaring out at his team. "Children are we through?" he whispered.
Glances were exchanged silent agreement met.
"He did it" they chorused. All fingers were pointing at Buck. Except Buck's, of course, he seemed unable to decide weather to point at Ezra or Vin. Buck glared at his pointing team mates.
"Unfortunately we all did it" Chris sighed. Chris was the center of attention immediately. "Because we are the most recently formed ATF unit, voices on high have determined that we could use more training," Chris snarled.
Anger, disgust and irritation were the easiest emotions to identify among the team. "Ah Hell!" Vin answered for all of them.
"Tomorrow morning at 5:10 AM we are to catch a flight to New Orleans for a training seminar," Chris directed.
"5:10 in the morning?" Ezra interrupted, turning dramatically in his desk chair while the coffee he had been drinking practically came back out his nose.
"We will be there for 10 glorious days suffering through lectures and training classes," Chris continued, snorting partially for being interrupted and partially from amusement at Ezra's behavior.
"Chris does I gotta...," Vin began.
"Yes, if I have to go each and everyone of you is going to suffer with me," Chris glared at the squirming men, his tone was no nonsense.
"Reckon I can get there day after tommara," Vin offered.
"The flight leaves at 5:10," Chris warned.
"I'se gonna ride mah bike down," Vin explained. Chris blinked at the apparent defiance, then glowered at the sharpshooter.
"You fly," he ordered.
"Chris," Vin's voice lowered.
"Plane Tanner," Chris left no room for argument. Vin looked down at his desk and refused to meet Chris' eyes. The warm glow in the back of his head that Chris associated with Tanner seemed to dim to a barely noticeable flicker.
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Early AM the next day
Denver International Airport
Everyone was at the airport to catch the flight. Vin stood across the boarding area from his team looking out a window. Ezra frowned at the body language he was observing. It was screaming that there was something amiss with their young sharpshooter.
"What's wrong with Junior?" Buck nodded to the figure in the shadowed corner.
"He's pissed," Chris snarled.
Ezra stared for a moment in disbelief. These two men always so in synch with each other that they could practically finish each others sentences. And yet, here was their team leader, so capable of reading the most complicated and dangerous of situations, so completely off the mark. How could he be so totally blind to Vin's distress. Granted they had been overworked lately and none of them wanted to go on this farcical training mission, but still. The southerner shook his head sadly and took the proverbial bull by the horns.
"No, Mr. Larabee it is much more than that," Ezra answered.
"Ezra?" Chris demanded.
"Look at him Mr. Larabee. What do you see?" Ezra asked softly.
"He's furious," Chris answered tersely.
"He's awfully tense," JD noted cautiously with considerable concern. Chris looked back and studied Vin with Ezra's reprimand and JD's concern still ringing in his ears.
"Shit!" Chris sighed, his shoulders sagged with the weight of realization. He ran a hand through his hair as he considered his next action.
"Yes, Mr. Larabee," Ezra agreed.
Chris turned from their little unit, and walked over to Vin, stopping well back. "Cowboy, what's the problem?" he asked in a conciliatory tone..
Vin turned turbulent blue eyes towards him. /Got me some trouble being cooped up. Don't matter now. Was a poor idea ridin' tha bike./ Vin offered with a strained grin.
"Are you going to be able to do this?" Larabee asked softly.
"Don't see much choice," Vin sighed.
"I feel a bit guilty here Cowboy," Chris shifted slightly.
"Good than ya will let me have tha winda seat," Vin offered a lop-sided grin. /My fault shoulda said somethin' earlier./
"I'll even let you have the window seat," Chris agreed. Glad we got that's settled I was missing my warm fuzzy.
A snigger drew Chris attention back to Tanner.
"Yer warm fuzzy," Vin grinned unrepentantly. Tanner was completely unfazed by the death glare aimed in his direction. Chris shook his head and returned to the already relieved team.
"You two settle your problem?" Buck demanded.
"Yeah, Vin's a bit more claustrophobic then I knew," Chris revealed.
"This is gonna be a fun trip," Buck groaned.
"Are we there yet?" Josiah piped up.
"Shoot me now," Chris sighed.
"That Mr. Larabee can be arranged," Ezra smirked. "I am rather out of sorts this morning," he reminded.
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New Orleans Airport
Early Evening
Hours later they arrived in New Orleans. It might have been decades later for the roundabout way thy had been forced to fly. Bad weather, delays and unruly strangers all conspired to slow them down.
"Remind me to stake the idiot who made our reservations out over an anthill," Josiah moaned as he rubbed the circulation back into his legs.
"I am unable to ascertain why it was necessary to fly to Chicago to arrive in New Orleans," Ezra exclaimed in a peeved tone.
"Who the hell did you piss off Larabee? They sent us coach. It's gonna take days to get the kinks out," Buck griped.
Vin suddenly pushed past them heading for a door in full flight. The look on his face booked no resistance from other passengers as the usually polite man elbowed his way through. Moving at as much of a run as the crowd would allow. "He didn't even remember his carry-on," JD picked it up as he passed Vin's empty seat.
"Chris, I'll walk back," JD stated firmly.
"I know I died 'cause hell's trapped on a plane with Ezra, JD and Buck," Nathan grimaced as the feeling returned to his legs.
They finally caught sight of Vin outside the doors beyond the luggage carousel. Leaving him to recover his equilibrium in the hot, humid, but wonderfully outside air of the Big Easy while they retrieved the luggage. Of course, being team 7 once more fate took a hand.
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"Why's mine the only bag they lost?" JD griped following the other men to join Vin outside.
"I'll catch up at the hotel," Chris gritted.
"If your going to a bar your taking the rest of us," Buck declared.
"Immediate Care Center," Chris sighed. Everyone turned to Chris with a frown.
"What's wrong?" Nathan asked.
"I may have some broken fingers," Chris admitted offering his left hand for Nathan perusal.
"Vin?" Nathan asked softly watching the sharpshooter holding himself upright against a tree on the lawn.
"He grabbed the armrest when they locked the doors down in Chicago. Didn't notice my hand was already there," Chris answered. "Don't tell him," Chris demanded.
"Junior ain't stupid. He's gonna notice splints or a cast," Buck retorted.
"Poor kid," Josiah sighed "I could see his seat quiver from across the aisle".
"It would have been better if it wasn't so crowded from Chicago," Nathan allowed.