Ezra settled himself in one of the large leather lounge chairs in front of the fire. He had sought out this quiet spot to read. The rest of the boys were still finishing the evening meal, their boisterous voices filtering down the hall and interrupting the solitude Ezra was seeking.

The men of Em7 had come to Four Corners to recover after a particularly harrowing mission that had taken them from the safety of their own country and into the inhospitable jungles of Africa. They had achieved their objective and as a result the world was a safer place, but the things they had faced had marked each and every one of them, and all were looking forward to spending some time at Four Corners where they could debrief and relax. Ezra had wanted nothing more than to simply go to his own place in DC, but Chris had insisted he join the team.

Standish found it difficult to put into words his emotions and had decided that perhaps some time alone would help to clear his head of the images he desperately wanted to forget. His expertise had been the key to the mission’s success, but it had placed him in a situation most would not wish upon their worst enemy. Chris had refused to begin with, but Ezra had insisted and reluctantly Chris had acquiesced. While Ezra didn’t regret the actions he had taken, for it had certainly ensured all of the boys got out safely, he was now paying the price.

Across from the tired Em7 agent, the flames in the hearth danced in a mesmerizing fashion. Ezra’s weary eyes were drawn to them. For a long time he stared, lost in thought… or perhaps, dwelling in a place where there was no thought at all.

With a sigh of confusion, Standish opened his book. Four days earlier, while laying on the ground, soaked to the skin, praying he and his companions wouldn’t be found until Buck returned to pick them up, Ezra had longed to be sitting in front of the fire with a good book… sitting alone with no interruptions so that the words of one of the great literary masters could wash over him and transport him to amazing places - places where there weren’t lunatic soldiers with guns trying to kill him. Places where he didn’t have to squeeze into a single tent with six other men that made privacy impossible. Places where horror was fictional.

Ezra stretched his back, removed his bookmark and embarked on his journey into the world of Hemingway.

Some moments later, Chris entered the room. Ezra glanced up and watched the blond cross to another chair, flopping down into it with a drowsy yawn. Realizing he was under observation, Chris smiled. “It’s nice to be home.”

“That it is,” Ezra agreed, hoping that Chris wouldn’t choose this moment to break the habit of a lifetime and became talkative.

Larabee produced his own book, from where Ezra couldn’t be sure, and started reading. Standish peered at the cover but couldn’t make out the title. Losing interest, Ezra returned to his own book.

For several glorious minutes there was silence, the only sound, the crackling of the fire and the turning of the odd page.

****

Josiah silently entered the room, sat down on the rug in front of the fire, opened his Bible and began to mutter to himself. Ezra clucked his tongue with annoyance. He had raised this point many times with Josiah, but to no avail. Sanchez was one of those people who read aloud to himself, his whispered mumbles like a jack hammer in Ezra’s ears.

Nathan was the next to enter Ezra’s chosen place of solitude. Jackson smiled as Ezra looked over the top of his book. “It’s freezing elsewhere,” Nathan explained, taking a seat on the three seater couch close to the fire. He had a crossword book and within moments was totally absorbed.

Standish flicked his eyes around the room, shaking his head at Josiah who was now questioning himself in half sentences. At least they were all relatively quiet. As Ezra returned to his reading, Vin wandered into the room with the newspaper. He scanned the area, searching for an appropriate spot to lay his tired bones. Happily, Vin selected one of the two beanbags on the floor.

Ezra grimaced as Tanner took time to get comfortable, the mashing of the polystyrene balls grating against the silence.

Vin glanced up at Standish. “Sorry,” he apologised. “The Cowboys won,” he informed his friend with a wide smile.

“I couldn’t be more pleased,” Ezra replied, dragging his eyes back to his book with some determination.

For ten minutes the five men lost themselves in their chosen activities. For ten wonderful, peaceful minutes.

“That ain’t right, Buck,” J.D. cried and he and Buck entered the room in an explosion of sound and movement. Ezra released his breath in a gush of frustration.

“It’s true as I’m standing here,” Wilmington laughed. “So, what are all of you up to?”

“Reading,” Ezra stated with irritation.

“What are you reading?” J.D. asked, dropping onto a beanbag next to Vin.

“The Cowboys won this week,” Tanner informed the younger man with a grin.

J.D. smiled. “Only by one point, Vin.”

“One point’s good enough for me.”

An involuntary growl rumbled in the back of Ezra’s throat. Buck eyed his friend. “So, what are you reading, Ez?”

“’To Have and Have Not’, by Ernest Hemingway.”

Buck’s face screwed up with distaste. “What sort of a title is that?”

Ezra blinked. “I beg your pardon?” Before Buck could respond, Ezra added, “Mr Hemingway is one of the greatest classic literary geniuses the world has ever produced. I do not believe that we should comment on his title.”

“Doesn’t sound very interesting though,” Buck snorted.

“Interesting! Buck, we are not talking about interesting. We are speaking about words written with such precision, such…”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“And I suppose you’re an expert. When was the last time you read a book, my practically illiterate friend? And no, the cartoons in the newspaper do not count.”

“I’ve read a book. Lots of them,” Buck defended. “Let’s see.” A smile formed on his face. “Just the other day I read ‘Keeping the Peace‘, by Lorne Order.”

Chris lowered his book, a smirk on his face. Nathan and Josiah both stopped to glace over at Buck. J.D. grinned.

“I have never heard of such an author.”

“Well, how about ‘Broken Window’ by Eva Brick or ‘Foreseeing the Future’ by Horace Scope’?”

Ezra eyes narrowed. “Mr. Wilmington, we are…”

“Then there is ‘Ride Across a Desert’ by Major Bumsore and ‘Over the Cliff’ by Eileen Dover and Willie Comback.”

J.D. burst out laughing.

Ezra crossed his arms across his chest. “Such juvenile...”

“’My Pants Keep Falling Down’, by Lucy Lastic,” Chris offered.

From behind the paper, Vin stated, “’Yellow River’, by I. P. Freely.”

“‘Playing with Wolves‘, by Ima Gona,” Buck continued.

“’What’s For Breakfast?’, by Hammond Eggs,” Nathan added.

“That would be an improvement on what you served this morning,” Buck muttered. “It was more like ’Spots on the Wall’, by Hu Phlung Dung.”

Nathan scowled. “‘Jack in the Box‘, by Sir Prise.”

Vin lowered his paper. “’The Bouncing Bullet’, by Rick O’Shay.”

“‘The Tightrope Walker’ by Betty Falls,” Chris tossed in.

“Here’s one for you, Ezra. ‘The Poker Player’, by Delia Cards,” Josiah laughed.

“Hang on. Hang on. I’ve got another one,” Buck cried. “’Turn Your Head and Cough’, by Olden McGroin.”

“Buck!” J.D. giggled. “That’s rude.”

“Rude. You want rude, son? How about this one?”

Ezra snorted with apparent disgust as his friends continued to share their list of books that had never been written. Chris Larabee had a genuine smile on his face, something that wasn’t there often. Vin was snickering like a schoolboy in a rare moment when the contract on his life appeared forgotten. Nathan had tears of mirth running down his face. Josiah’s booming laugh echoed off the walls, while J.D.’s giggles advertised that he was coming to terms with the hell he had gone through only days before. And of course, there was Buck - the team’s self-elected entertainment co-ordinator who so often took on the role of providing light relief when the boys needed it most - like now.

Ezra shook his head. He had so longed for the solitude of a good book, but found such moments, which had once filled his life, now as rare as hen’s teeth.

Ezra sighed long and deep. "Such is life." He paused as the others glanced across at him. Standish allowed a smile to crease his lips. "Such is life, by Cilla Vee." The rest of the men burst out laughing. Ezra raised his eyes to the heavens and murmured quietly under his breath, “Well, if you can't beat them, join them.“

Joining in the fun was somewhat unavoidable, for Ezra’s days of needing to deal with difficulties alone were long gone. His family simply wouldn’t allow it. They had collected around him tonight to ensure help was on hand.

“What was that, Ez?“ Buck asked.

“’If you can’t beat them, join them,‘ by Ian Evitable and...“ Ezra smiled easily. “By Ian Evitable and Ima Grateful." He scanned their smiling faces, though their eyes revealed their deep and very genuine concern for him. A lump formed in Ezra’s throat. “Thank you. All of you.”

Wilmington’s head bobbed once in acknowledgement as he added quietly, “’Any Time‘, by U. R. Family.”

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© July 2005 Brigitta B. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics and I thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.