Disclaimer: I own Juliet and Meg but not the boys, and Mog created the ATF AU. No money made, no infringement intended.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to MotherRati for being such a great beta--she always seems to know just what I meant to say! And Carlos Rodriguez was inspired by the main bad guy from Crocodile Dundee 2.

To say that Chris Larabee's ATF team had been unenthused when word came down about the agency Halloween party would be a gross understatement; their hard-bitten leader might as well have been handing out tickets to a society ball…

…Which was exactly what he was handing out tickets to. "Count me out," Vin had said, waving off the gilded invitation with an amused smile. "Ain't puttin' on no monkey suit just to go to some stuffy party with the brass."

"Waste of money, that's what it is," Nathan had snorted, looking at the card and then handing it back with a disapproving frown. "This kind of thing's an obscenity when there's so much need around."

Josiah had laughed and shaken his head. "Don't think so, Brother," he'd said. "Now if Miss Maude were in town I might have a different answer…"

"Casey would've loved this," had been JD's disappointed reply. "But she won't be back in town in time, and I wouldn't want to go without her."

Buck had been thoughtful. "Weren't what I was planning for Halloween," he'd said, fingering the invitation. Then he'd brightened. "But there's this one little filly down in Research who I bet would just love to get all dressed up for me…"

Ezra had surprised him. Chris hadn't even been going to offer him an invitation, figuring he'd just refuse it anyway, when the slow Southern drawl had stopped him in his tracks. "Pardon, Mr. Larabee, but should I take your avoidance to mean that I am not invited to this grand occasion?" The undercover agent had plucked the engraved card out of his leader's hand and smiled up at the stunned man. "I have been awaitin' an opportunity such as this. Ah'll look forward to seein' you there."

Chris had already known that he had to be there; not just because of his position within the ATF, but also because Mary Travis already knew about the masquerade ball and there was no way he'd be able to get out of going. And so he found himself two weeks later standing in one of Denver's plushest ballrooms with Buck at his side and wondering if his undercover agent was actually going to show up. "Should have known he was just yankin' my chain," he grumbled, looking around to see where Mary had gotten to. He finally spotted her some little distance away talking to the District Assistant Director and his wife and allowed himself to enjoy the view; her long black dress and peacock-feathered mask made a picture that warmed his blood.

"Oh my sweet lord," Buck breathed suddenly from beside him. "Where in god's name has he been hidin' that?"

Chris turned his head…and forgot to turn it back; Ezra had arrived and he wasn't alone. The woman on the Southerner's arm couldn't have been more than five feet tall, slender and fairylike in a flowing gown of deep blue silk trimmed with silver lace. Small gems glittered in her cloud of ebony hair, and she wore a bejeweled butterfly mask that matched her dress. Ezra's mask was Mardi Gras gear as well, an elegant creation of black silk dramatically slashed with silver, and his black Spanish-style short-coated tuxedo with its snowy white ruffled shirt sported silver buttons shaped like the ace of spades. They made a stunning couple, and people stopped talking to stare at them as they crossed the room. "Ezra," Chris said as they drew closer. "Glad you could make it."

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world," the undercover agent replied, his emerald eyes sparkling. "Mr. Larabee, allow me to present Miss Moore; Juliet, this is my boss, Mr. Larabee."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Larabee," the small woman said in a sweet, high voice with an accent that whispered of New Orleans; deep indigo eyes shone warm with sincerity from behind her mask. "Ezra speaks of you often."

Chris bowed over the lace-gloved hand with a smile. "None of it's true," he said, winning a dimpled smile from her and a chuckle from Ezra. "Only the stories about Buck are true."

"Hey!" the ladies' man exclaimed in mock offense. "I resemble that remark!" He took the dainty hand away from Chris and kissed the back of it. "Buck Wilmington at your service, ma'am," he said. "I don't recall seein' you around before."

"Probably because I haven't been." The sweet smile took on a knowing tilt as she tactfully extracted her hand from Buck's. "I don't believe we run in the same circles, Mr. Willmington."

"Mr. Willmington runs in a circle all his own," Ezra commented with a sly smile. "That's what comes of chasin' your tail." He recaptured Juliet's arm and tucked it possessively under his own. "Darlin', I believe they're playin' our song."

The small woman gazed up at him, putting her hand over his. "But I don't recognize this song, Ezra."

Their eyes met, and he brushed an errant curl away from her cheek with a tender hand. "You will tomorrow. Shall we?"

"We shall." She turned back to the two staring ATF agents, and they were bedazzled by the echo of the luminous smile she'd been giving their undercover agent. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, gentlemen. Perhaps we shall see each other later."

Two nods. They watched as Ezra maneuvered his way to the dance floor and took his date in his arms. "To finally meet us?" Chris mused, frowning. "I wonder…" Then he remembered; one night when he'd paged his agent to come to the office and the Southerner had taken longer than expected to arrive…and had told him off for expecting him to drop his current assignment on such short notice. It had been the first time Standish had ever gotten upset about being pulled off a case, and after that Ezra hadn't been 'available' very much between assignments, always had 'other plans'. "Buck," he said slowly. "I think I know when he hooked up with her." Larabee's eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "And I think Agent Standish and I need to have a long talk about his conduct when he's undercover."

"Whoa, pard." Buck's tone was mild, but the look in his eyes was anything but. "You're jumpin' to conclusions, just hold on there a minute…"

"He must have met her undercover, Buck! He knows better…"

"When hasn't Ezra been undercover, Chris?" Willmington asked sharply. He scowled at his friend. "God dammit, you and the federal government seem to think the man is just a tool for you to use until he's no good to you anymore and then you'll just go get another one!"

Chris was startled, but still angry. "I don't think that way and you know it, but his job…"

"Ain't gonna take care of him in his old age, Chris," Buck interrupted. "His job won't be there for him when he's got a problem, won't watch old movies with him on Sunday afternoons, and it damn sure won't keep his bed warm at night! You know, it's bullshit like this that keeps us losing these guys to the other side when they're on deep cover; the bad guys treat 'em like family while we treat 'em like slaves, it only stands to reason that a lot of them don't want to come back!"

"Shit, Buck, it ain't that bad!"

Buck looked at him for a long moment, sensing that Chris was calming down and ready to listen to reason. "Chris, how many months out of this past year has Ezra spent undercover?" He saw his friend think about it, saw the turquoise eyes widen with realization. "Yep. And all that time, he can't use his own name or wear his own clothes--hell, sometimes he don't even get to go home until the assignment is over! He never complains, Chris, but that don't make it right." He leaned a little closer, putting his hand on Larabee's shoulder and turning him so he could see the happy couple on the dance floor. "And you know that Ez would never do anything that would compromise an investigation, which means…'

"…Which means he may have met her while he was undercover but she wasn't connected to the case," Chris finished. He sighed, watching Ezra steal a kiss when he thought no one would notice. "I gotta quit jumping to conclusions like that-no wonder he thinks I don't trust him."

"Yeah, no wonder," Buck replied dryly. "So where do you think they met?"

"Six months ago while he was undercover at the school," Chris said without hesitation. "I've gotten so used to callin' him in at the drop of a hat, never occurred to me…" He looked slightly ashamed of himself. "Never occurred to me that he might have a life that I was interrupting, a life he was having to snatch whenever he could because everyone acts like it's his job to be at the team's disposal twenty-four seven."

"I wondered when you would think of that," Mary said, startling him; he hadn't noticed her approach. She moved closer to Chris and insinuated her arm into his. "I ran into them once down at the 16^th Street Mall a few months ago and he asked me not to say anything--he said if you knew about Juliet he'd have to prove his commitment to his job to you all over again and he had little enough time to spend with her as it was."

"I can see how he could feel that way," Buck said softly before his stunned friend could find a suitable answer. "Damn shame, though, when a man's afraid to tell his friends he's in love."

Mary was nodding, but Chris scowled and shook his head. "Now you're the one jumping to conclusions."

Buck just grinned and went back to watching the dance floor. "We'll see," was all he said.

Ezra and his diminutive date rejoined them when the band took a break, both flushed and laughing as they took seats at the table Chris had claimed for himself and his men. "So what did you do with it?" Ezra was asking.

"Well, there was no way we could put it in the bake sale," Juliet told him. "And we couldn't hurt her feelings by refusing it, so…"

"You didn't…"

"We bought it ourselves and ate the whole thing," she confirmed. "It was the most wonderful chocolate cake any of us had ever tasted, although I have to admit I haven't been tempted to duplicate the recipe after…well, after the morning after."

"Ah can just imagine," the undercover agent chuckled. "Fine imported rum is not the most forgiving of beverages-speakin' of which, I believe I shall go fetch us both something, this room is overwarm for dancing."

The look that passed between them as Ezra stood up was almost as intimate as a kiss, and Chris was hard pressed to ignore Buck's smug smile. "We'll look out for her, Ez," he said.

Even with his fancy mask on, the affection--no, Chris corrected himself, the love reflected in the undercover agent's face was plain to see. "Miss Moore is quite capable of looking out for herself, Mr. Larabee," he said with a smile. "Back in a moment, cherie."

"I'll go with ya, Ez," Buck said, standing up as well. "Meg would probably appreciate some more of that champagne when she gets back from the powder room." He trailed the smaller man to the bar and watched with amazement while he requested two glasses of fruit juice. "She don't drink?"

"Juliet weighs eighty-seven pounds soakin' wet, Mr. Willmington, and only rarely indulges in the consumption of alcohol; ah believe even you are capable of doin' the math." Ezra spared him an annoyed glance. "Might I assume you followed me for the purpose of passin' along a 'friendly' warnin'?"

Buck was taken aback by the defensiveness in his friend's tone. "Ez, I…no! I just wanted to tell you that Chris is okay with this…"

"How very magnanimous of him," Ezra drawled sarcastically. "Ah am so glad to know that he has bestowed his approval on mah personal life--although ah am certain that indulgence will be withdrawn the moment it becomes inconvenient to him."

"Ain't gonna happen." Ezra snorted, and Buck grabbed his arm and forced the smaller man to look at him. "No, it ain't, because I won't let it; if Chris gets out of line, you just leave him to me." He loosened his grip and lowered his voice. "It's damn good to see you happy, pard. That little lady must be somethin' really special."

Ezra just stared at him for a moment, green eyes wide behind his mask. Then he nodded and returned Buck's firm grip. "She's…the best thing that's evah happened to me, Buck."

The ladies' man gave him a little shake and released him. "Well then, what are we standin' around talkin' to each other for? Let's get back over there so I can get to know her too!"

In answer he received one of Ezra's rare unguarded smiles and a friendly slap on the arm, and the two of them gathered up the drinks and headed back to the table. Juliet was trading conversation with Mary and Meg when they arrived and Chris was looking on with a bemused expression on his face. "Aw, now have you ladies been torturin' this poor man while we were gone?" Buck teased. "What was it, Vogue or Cosmo?"

"The Clarion," all three women said at once. Meg giggled as she took the champagne flute that Buck handed her, pushing brown hair back away from her sequined cat-eye mask with the other hand. "Poor Mr. Larabee still hasn't said two words, though."

"Probably a wise decision," Ezra commented, holding out Juliet's glass of pineapple juice out to her with a bow, smiling when her fingers overlapped his in a brief but intimate caress in the act of taking it. "So what did we miss?"

"Maybe we should be asking you boys that," Chris remarked, frowning. "Looked like you two weren't quite getting on for a minute there over at the bar."

Ezra froze. "We were just 'rectifying a misunderstanding'," Buck drawled lazily with a wink at the undercover agent, who relaxed. "Now I don't suppose the conversation you ladies were havin' had anything to do with that editorial from a month or so ago about educational reform, would it?"

"It was a very well-written article," Juliet said, nodding at Mary.

"Ah seem to recall you sayin' that when you first read it," Ezra added with a small smile. "High praise indeed, Mrs. Travis, if you've ever seen the way she grades papers. Ah seem to recall, however, that the Clarion nevah saw fit to print any letters to the editor disagreein' with your position--we were quite disappointed that the paper declined to show the dissentin' opinions of those of us 'on the front lines', so to speak."

Us? Chris sat up a little straighter as a sudden understanding washed over him. In spite of the fact that you seem to think mah current assignment is unimportant, ah do not… A requisition had crossed his desk three months ago, a request for tuition reimbursement. He'd signed it without really looking at it; one or the other of his team were always picking up a credit here and there, and he had only just barely noticed that this one had been for Ezra. It belatedly occurred to him that the request had said 'continuing education credit'. "You're a teacher!" he blurted out.

Two sets of eyes, one emerald green and the other indigo blue, looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Yes," two voices said at once with the same puzzled inflection.

Buck got it. "Ez, what do you teach?" he wanted to know.

Ezra chuckled, but Juliet's eyes widened. She looked up at Ezra and then back at the other two men with a dawning frown. "He's the best history teacher I've ever seen and you didn't know…"

"Juliet, it's all right; I didn't tell them…"

"That's even worse!" Her frown in Larabee's direction was rapidly becoming a glare. "You think we should let just anyone teach in our schools?" she demanded quietly but with evident heat. "You put someone into the school system without even knowing…" She trailed of with an incensed little growl and turned her scowl on Ezra. "I'm having a talk with Bill about this, Ezra; there are enough problems in the system already without having unqualified federal agents masquerading as teachers."

Buck and Mary choked on that one and Meg stared at her openmouthed, but it was Ezra's response that surprised Chris. "I've already talked to Bill, cherie," he said, patting her shoulder. "He plans to bring it up with the school board when he thinks we can get them to vote correctly; I've been helping him draft the proposal for it, as a matter of fact, just to make sure the new regulations serve everyone's best interests and won't be slapped down later on-we're hoping to get it taken up by the state if we can prove our case locally."

Juliet relaxed again; she lifted one hand and trailed her fingers along his cheek with a rueful smile and a sigh. "I'm sorry, I should have known--you're always one step ahead, aren't you?"

Ezra chuckled again and caught the caressing hand, kissing it. "The better to stay alive in my profession, my dear-and ah intend to stay alive for a long, long time."

They were the only two people in the room, Chris could tell…and he was jealous. He was also relieved; ever since they had first met he'd suspected Ezra of having a death wish, and now it appeared that he wouldn't have to worry about that any more.

Conversation migrated to other, safer topics after that, and eventually Ezra and Juliet left the table for the dance floor again. Chris once again tried to ignore the smug look that he was now getting in stereo from both Buck and Mary, but it didn't work. "Would you two stop that!" he said irritably. "How was I supposed to know? It ain't like he gives anything away; I mean, the man could be a certified genius and speak six different languages and nobody would know it…"

That was too much for Mary. She choked on a laugh and stood up. "I…think I need to go to the powder room for a minute; and then, Chris Larabee, you are going to dance with me if I have to drag you."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I never said I wouldn't dance with you."

"No, but you haven't yet," she admonished as she swept away, leaving a perplexed federal agent in her wake. Meg whispered something in Buck's ear and followed.

Buck laughed at his best friend. "Maybe you should be takin' lessons from Ez."

Chris started to snort and thought better of it. "Find out anything?" he asked.

"Wasn't why I followed him up there." Buck's smile disappeared; he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Think you've got some serious bridge building to do, pard; I told him you were okay with things, but Ez seems to think that's gonna change as soon as him having a life apart from work gets 'inconvenient' for you. He told me that little woman is, and I quote, 'the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him', but he don't expect you to respect that and he was just too damn surprised when I did. I think we have seriously dropped the ball here, Chris."

"I think you're right," Chris replied slowly. "I didn't know he was a teacher."

"But you should have."

"I should have," the other man agreed heavily. "I'll have to find out what it is that Mary knows, too; like I said before, he doesn't give anything away…but maybe that's because no one bothers to ask him. Now that I think about it, I don't think any of us have ever just sat down with the man and gotten to know him."

"He's not easy to get to know," Buck answered. "But maybe some of that's our fault, not his-we're usually tryin' to make him come to us instead of tryin' to meet somewhere in the middle ." He looked over to the dance floor and whistled. "Hot damn, I didn't know the little bastard could dance like that, either! Sure hope that isn't what Mary's expecting you to do, Chris."

The band was playing a tango, and Larabee actually felt a warmth rise up in his cheeks when he saw the passion emanating from the young couple's every move; the two of them were absolutely glowing. "I hope not too," he said. "Shit, I don't think I could do that in a public place--even if I knew how." He shook his head. "I'm really glad Mary isn't seeing this."

"Or, even worse…Vin," Buck deadpanned, and then he laughed and so did Chris. "Oh Lord, he'd faint dead away."

"So would JD."

Buck snorted. "Shit, I guess you don't know JD that well either, pard; he and Casey'd be right out there with 'em--and then he'd be pesterin' Ez for lessons." He stiffened suddenly. "Hey, what's going on over there?"

There was a small commotion near the front door, and another taking place near the kitchen; a sudden spray of automatic weapons fire had half the partygoers diving for the floor and the other half reaching for weapons that weren't there. The band stopped playing and the dancers froze as armed gunmen pushed their way onto the bandstand and commandeered the microphone. "You all just chill," the young man in the red bandanna said with an air of disgust. "And don't nobody try nothin', either; you just sit tight and don't piss us off." The equally young man next to him, his black hair slicked back into a ponytail, whispered something to him and he nodded. "You all here in front, you stay right where you are and we'll start with you. Anyone makes any funny moves, I'll pop one of these fancy dancin' people, got it? Don't none of 'em mean nothin' to me."

"We're just lookin' for certain pigs here, don't care one way or the other about the rest of you," the other young man announced. "We'll sort out the ones we want."

"I don't like the sound of that," Buck said softly, and Chris could only nod; Ezra could very easily be one of those they were looking for, and he was standing not four feet from the two young gunmen with his arm protectively around his girlfriend. "Don't suppose you have your cell phone with you?"

"Nope." The men were moving the people who had been dancing around now, splitting them into two groups, forcing them to unmask as they went. Another commotion near the kitchen stopped the process and Buck and Chris both swore. "God dammit, why'd that idiot have to go and do that? Wasn't that Marshall from Team Twelve?"

"If it was, he ain't on the team no more; McCall won't cut him any slack if a rookie stunt like that gets someone killed."

The attempted escapee was quickly subdued and the man in the red bandanna went back to the microphone. "Warned you," was all he said, and lowered his gun to point at the next person in the line; the black-haired man hesitated a fraction of an instant before doing the same. "One dead Fed, comin' up."

Chris's heart almost stopped; he and Buck were both ready to surge to their feet in an almost certainly suicidal objection to the proceedings when Juliet stepped between the gun's muzzle and Ezra, arms outstretched in a blatantly protective gesture. "Richard?" they heard her small voice query unhappily in the frozen silence. "Richard Traherne?"

The black-haired gunman let his barrel drop slightly, staring openmouthed at the woman in front of him. "Miss…Miss Moore? What are you doing here?"

She pulled off the butterfly mask, and the expression on her face reminded Chris of a person reliving a nightmare. "Oh, Richard."

The young man next to Traherne elbowed him sharply. "Wise up, man! The bitch must be a narc!"

Traherne shoved him back. "She ain't no narc, Jackie, she was my English teacher--and you watch your damn mouth!" He looked absolutely sickened. "Geez, Miss Moore, you shouldn't be hangin' around with these kind of people; they'll get you killed!

She just shook her head, eyes never leaving his face. "I could say the same to you, Richard. You're worth more than this."

The young man looked away, unable to maintain the eye contact. "You're the only one that thought so," he said, tightening his grip on the rifle. He jerked his head at Ezra. "You with him?"

Her chin lifted. "Yes."

Hard brown eyes flicked over Ezra; the undercover agent caught his breath. "Take off the mask, mister; I want to see your face." Ezra complied slowly and dropped his hands to rest on Juliet's shoulders, ready to push her out of the way if necessary; Traherne looked him over with a slight frown. "Nah, I don't recognize you," he said at last. "How 'bout you, Jackie? He look like one of our most wanted?"

Jackie was openly contemptuous. "Shit no," he snorted. "Look at that face; them society types don't never get their hands dirty on the street--an' we'd make him in a minute if he tried."

"Yeah." Traherne shook his head and gestured with the rifle. "Okay Mr. Federal Desk-Jockey, you take my teacher and get her the hell away from these guns." Jackie growled something at him and he glared back and shook his head. "Move back toward the center of the room an' sit down somewhere. I'll have my gun aimed right at the back of your skull the whole time, so don't you try anything, got it?"

"Clear as crystal," Ezra said, flattening his distinctive Southern drawl into a yuppified East Coast twang. "Come on, Juliet."

She hesitated, trying to catch her former student's eye again; Jackie's slight growl accompanied by a shifting of his gun's aim convinced her that it was futile. Ezra pulled her around, keeping himself between her and the guns, and slowly made his way back to Chris and Buck. "That was too close," he told the astonished agents softly as they sat down on the floor, still keeping his phony accent. "Thank god those two are just the hired help or they probably would have recognized me."

"Richard did recognize you," Juliet whispered. She visibly drew in on herself, closing her eyes and shuddering. "I saw it in his eyes."

The three ATF agents paled and Buck swore softly. Ezra put his arms around the shivering woman. "Don't ever let anyone tell you you didn't make a difference," he murmured. "You heard what he said; you were the only one who had faith in that young man, and that saved my life tonight."

"If I'd truly made a difference, he wouldn't be here," she replied with a sigh. "He was in my class two years running."

"You held him back?" Buck asked, puzzled. "You held him back and he's tryin' to protect you? I don't get it."

"He could barely read when he entered my class the first time," she explained. "He wouldn't work, never turned in his homework, was a constant disruption…so I sat him down before spring break and told him in no uncertain terms that he would be back the next year because I was not giving up on him." She laughed, a little sadly. "Apparently no one had ever said that to him before; he was beyond shocked. But he started to make an effort after that, and the next year he did better than even I expected. He was talking about college when he graduated." She shook her head, eyes straying back to the front of the room. "I wonder what happened?"

"Probably nothing anyone could have stopped," Chris said, his eyes following hers. "Vin works with kids like that, he says sometimes you just can't save 'em no matter what you do."

"Unfortunately," Ezra said, tightening his hold on the small woman reassuringly. She leaned into his embrace with a sigh he couldn't help but echo. "We just have to help as many as we can and hope at least some of them make it."

There was a passion behind the words that widened Larabee's eyes, and the undercover agent lifted a questioning eyebrow. Chris shook himself. "Sorry, Ezra; guess I'm just realizing…that I've never taken the time to get to know you all that well."

It came out sounding almost like an apology, but Ezra just shrugged. "You hired me to do a job, Mr. Larabee, the nature of which would tend to make a certain professional distance advisable. I am well aware that I do not, shall we say, 'fit in' very well with the rest of the team."

Chris translated that and felt sickened; the man had basically just told him that he didn't really belong in their group but it didn't matter because a man in his position probably wouldn't be around very long anyway. Until he's no good to you anymore and then you'll just go get another one, Buck had said, and apparently Ezra believed it too. Larabee's jaw tightened. "Maybe the rest of the team just hasn't tried hard enough to make a place for you," he said, shocking the undercover agent. "Maybe we've just been too busy tryin' to make you fit the spot that was already there instead of giving you your own. We'll have to work on that."

Time passed slowly. The young men guarding and sorting them were vigilant and efficient, and they went about their business with professional calm; Chris had to admit he was impressed--and frightened. It was obvious that they were checking faces, and that they'd been watching the party closely all night to see who was with whom. Those who apparently weren't part of their 'most wanted' were herded together and let go all at once while the rest, about fifty people in all, were left scattered out around the ballroom instead of being moved together in a group. Once or twice he found himself worrying about Richard Traherne; by protecting Ezra and Juliet the young man had put himself in the awkward position of a person with divided loyalties, and Chris knew that such a breach was usually handled with brutal efficiency. He also worried about the SWAT team he knew had to be outside, wondering who was in charge and how long they would wait before deciding on 'acceptable losses'--and if they were hotheaded enough to jump the gun. The worrying Chris was used to, it was part of his job description…but the waiting was killing him. And all they could do was wait.

About an hour later, the waiting ended. "Oh Lord," Buck whispered. "Chris, I think that's Carlos Rodriguez."

The name didn't appear to ring a bell, and Ezra cleared his throat. "We took down his brother Diego last year," he supplied. "A joint operation with the DEA; he was attempting to start his own franchise providing small arms to Columbian drug runners--a little piranha swimming with barracudas , that was Diego. I'm not surprised you don't remember him, he wasn't a very noteworthy individual in the scheme of things. Carlos is the younger of the two, but infinitely more dangerous."

Larabee's eyes narrowed. "Would he remember you?"

The undercover agent shrugged. "It's possible; I certainly remember him."

"Yeah, but you remember everyone, Ez."

Juliet's puzzled, slightly indignant frown reappeared at Buck's comment, and Chris groaned internally. I do not want to know that he has a photographic memory he hasn't told us about, I just don't. "It doesn't matter," he said in a low voice, addressing all three of the people at the table and not just the two that belonged to him; he was relieved when Juliet nodded almost imperceptibly. "What matters is that these guys already sorted the sheep from the goats and now the head honcho is here. We have to be ready for anything."

Nothing happened for a little while. Rodriguez made the rounds of his men, checking each position personally and administering approbation or correction as needed in a low voice. He spoke longest of all with Richard Traherne and then began to make a thorough scan of the room. When the man's roving gaze stopped and fixed itself on Juliet, Chris was suddenly, shamefully glad that Mary was sitting in the far corner of the room with the judge and still had her mask on.

Carlos Rodriguez had been watching the party all night, concealing his identity behind an elaborate mask and keeping to himself. He had observed the interaction between different people in the room and taken mental notes of the connections he saw between different individuals, and been surprised when a connection was revealed between one of his men and the little mariposa bonita who had come in with the Southern agent that had taken down Diego's organization. She was lovely, that one, and under different circumstances he might have tested the connection between herself and her escort with an eye toward replacing the other man in her affections; business, however, had to take precedence, and he was certain she would not want him once he had killed her boyfriend. Traherne had explained the situation to him when asked and Rodriguez had let it go for the moment; the incident had stopped hotheaded Jackie from killing ahead of schedule, but both breaches would have to be dealt with at the proper time.

The three men sitting with the cause of the breach tensed when they noticed his interest and Carlos smiled. He was not a fool; he knew that harming the woman would be counterproductive to his interests. Still, an example needed to be made, and not being able to harm his pretty butterfly didn't mean he couldn't use her bond with his errant gunman to help make his point. Rodriguez moved closer, nodding thoughtfully, and signaled one of his men to pull the small woman to her feet and bring her closer to him. "You are not a federal agent," he said silkily, walking around her and looking her up and down. With his free hand he caressed her ebony hair approvingly. "I saw you dancing with one, though; he looked enamored of you and I cannot blame him. You are like a butterfly among moths in this gathering, little pretty one, so far astray from the sunlit fields you belong in."

The caressing hand dropped to her shoulder, and Juliet shuddered involuntarily. Chris saw Ezra stop himself from doing something stupid; Rodriguez noticed as well. "Ah, I see the foolish moth that led you here does not like me touching his pretty butterfly. Of course he doesn't, such creatures are rare and precious…and easily damaged."

"Are you threatening us or flirting with her?" Chris asked mildly, trying to shift the man's focus. "Because I have to say, it doesn't look like either one is working."

The gunrunner smiled; it made him look even more dangerous. His hand went back to Juliet's hair, gently toying with the soft waves. "Oh, this butterfly would not look at me in that way," he said casually. "I simply amuse myself at your expense to remind you who is in charge here…Mr. Larabee."

Chris's jaw tightened. "I don't believe we've met."

"I know all about you," Rodriguez chuckled. "I even know that it was your man here who had Diego sent to prison--but I am not here to revenge myself against him, or you. You are merely the tools of a far larger enemy. But now is not the time for that, I have a more important consideration at the moment." He leaned in close to whisper something to one of the young men flanking him and then turned back to Juliet as the gunman hurried away. "You know," he said conversationally. "Mr. Traherne told me what you did for him, and I believe I owe you my gratitude for making him into something other than worthless barrio trash."

Juliet stiffened. "Richard did all the work; all I did was tell him he had options."

Carlos chuckled and shook his head. "Pity society didn't agree; I hired him after the university turned down his request for financial aid…twice." Juliet winced in spite of herself and he patted her shoulder. "Poor little butterfly, so innocent of the cold realities of life; I should punish your man for bringing you into his dark, unhappy world. Now let me see, what would hurt him the most, hmm?" He started circling her again, this time pulling out his gun and using the barrel the way he'd used his hand earlier, running the cold metal through her hair, trailing it down her shoulder. "Killing you would destroy him, I think, but then he would try to kill me and my men would kill him, so he would not suffer for his crime as I wish him to. And even I, monster that I am, could not bring myself to lay hands on you to hurt you…but there are other kinds of hurting." The young gunman he had sent for had arrived, standing in front of his former teacher and taking in the situation with wide, horrified eyes while Chris traded grim looks with Buck and Ezra; they all knew what was about to happen. "This one, he is loyal; he proved his loyalty earlier when he prevented his brother in arms from killing your unworthy boyfriend." The gun at Juliet's shoulder suddenly aimed and fired, and Richard Traherne was dead before he hit the ground. "Unfortunately for him, I demand my men be loyal to me alone."

Juliet went as white as milk but she made no sound at all; she took a few shaky steps forward and dropped to her knees beside the body. "No," Rodriguez said to the remaining gunman who had taken a step forward and raised his gun to stop her. He shook his head. "She will cause no trouble; let her mourn him, no one else will."

And that was where Carlos Rodriguez made his fatal mistake. He turned his back on the scene taking place on the floor behind him and went back to toying with the three federal agents, exulting in the fact that the Southern agent's whole attention was fixed on the small woman in the blue dress and he appeared completely oblivious to everything else. Rodriguez therefore did not see what Ezra saw; Juliet crossing herself and gently closing the dead man's eyes…and then reaching for his gun. She picked the weapon up by it's long barrel and, wielding it like a club, swung the heavy stock around with all her might to impact the back of the gloating gunrunner's knees.

The man dropped like a stone. Ezra took advantage of the distraction and tackled the gunman, taking him out with a swift, vicious blow to the neck and rolling back to his feet with gun in hand. Chris and Buck had already overpowered Rodriguez and were yelling for everyone to get down on the floor. One of the gunmen decided to ignore them; Ezra dropped him with one shot and a deathly silence settled over the room, a silence broken by the voice of Chris Larabee calling for the SWAT team outside to stand down. Within moments the remaining assailants in the room had been rounded up and disarmed and police were pouring through the opened doors to take them into custody. It was over.

Juliet was still sitting on the floor, staring at the body of her former student with one silver-gloved hand pressed to her mouth; Ezra tossed away his gun and dropped to his knees beside her, easing a gentle arm around her shoulders. "He should have been out on a date," she said, not lifting her eyes. "Or at a party with his friends, wearing a silly costume and having fun."

"Yes, he should have," Ezra agreed softly. "He should have been in college, worryin' about midterms and where to spend his spring break." He tightened his grip. "You tried, Juliet."

"I know." She looked up at him, blinking. "He was a good boy, Ezra."

"Ah know," he echoed. "And he shouldn't have died in such a manner, nor should that boy ah had to shoot."

Her eyes widened, and the sorrow in her face was joined by concern. "You had to…" She laid a faintly trembling hand against his cheek. "Oh Ezra, are you all right?"

He captured the hand and kissed it before pressing it to his chest, over his heart. "We'll be all right together, cherie," he promised before regaining his feet and drawing her up with him. He glanced around and forced a smile. "And ah'll have you know, this was not how ah envisioned our evening taking place."

"It wasn't?" Her smile was small and watery, but a few of the dimples he loved so much made an appearance. "And here I thought you were trying to show off in front of me…"

"Dashing federal agent that ah am?" he teased gently.

"Did I just here Ez call himself a 'dashing federal agent'?" Buck asked; he and Chris had been standing back, watching the undercover agent handle the situation and keeping anyone else from interfering. "I'm gonna have to remember that one."

Chris moved closer, looking down at the small woman speculatively. "Are you all right, Miss Moore?"

She nodded, glancing at Ezra and tightening her grip on his hand. "I'll be fine, Mr. Larabee; thank you for asking."

"As soon as they get our statements we can all go home," Chris told her. "Mary and Meg already left, but the detective in charge said he had to talk to you tonight, while it was all still fresh. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be; he's right." She smiled up at him reassuringly, but the shadows in her eyes deepened. "I understand how…these kind of things work. It will be fine, I'm sure."

"Thanks to you, it already was," Buck said admiringly. "That was mighty quick thinking, Miss Moore."

Juliet blushed. "I wasn't thinking; I just reacted."

"Yes, but you reacted correctly, darlin'," Ezra chuckled…but there were shadows in his eyes, too. "We had experienced agents in this room who didn't rise to the challenge like you did."

"Guess that's one way of puttin' it," grunted a new voice from behind them. A man of medium height and a silhouette that practically screamed 'high cholesterol' pushed his way into the little group. "I'm Detective Marcus," he snapped out. "And if you boys are finished, I need to have a few words with the lady." When Ezra stepped forward with Juliet the man put out a hand to stop him. "Just her, buddy; you just stay over here and outta my way."

Ezra bristled, but the detective was already pulling the small woman away from the ATF agents with one meaty hand wrapped around her upper arm. He sat her down on a folding chair just out of their hearing range, taking another chair facing her, their knees almost touching; the undercover agent's eyes narrowed when he saw her rub her arm with a pained, startled expression on her face. Worried now, Ezra continued to watch surreptitiously and after a few moments of questioning saw her start backwards in the chair, her eyes wide; he grabbed Chris's arm to get his attention. The detective leaned closer and an expression of sickened horror drained all the color from Juliet's face. She shook her head once, then again more emphatically, obviously beyond words.

Detective Marcus was so intent on his 'questioning' that he didn't hear them coming until a strong hand yanked him out of his chair, sending it to the floor with a metallic crash. He looked away from the two large, angry men holding him to see the smaller Southern agent pulling the woman into a protective embrace; the man's green eyes were giving him a look that was a blatant threat. A rough shake drew his attention back to the piercing turquoise glare of the blonde agent whose hand was twisted in his shirt. "What the hell were you doing?" the man hissed. "Miss Moore isn't even a federal employee, she was just an innocent bystander!"

The detective's lip curled. "She was a witness," he spat back. "And maybe not so innocent, either. You really think a punk like that is gonna put himself on the line for a teacher? Wake up, buddy," he threw over at Ezra disgustedly. "I bet she's the reason he was here in the first place; ain't the first time that one's played show and tell with a student…"

Buck spun the man around. "What are you talkin' about?" he demanded. "Do you know Miss Moore from somewhere?"

"No, but I remember the case," Marcus said smugly. "Down in New Orleans about four years ago, damn near made me sick; some punk kids with guns took a bunch of hostages in a high school down there, had one of the teachers to do the talkin' for 'em. I recognized her right off." The two ATF agents exchanged a confused look, and the detective snorted, shaking his head. "Don't let that innocent act fool ya, a teacher and two students got shot because she was 'helping' a bunch of kids after school twice a week and one of 'em wanted her all to himself. Can't believe they let her off…"

"I remember that case," Chris said, stunned. "Shit, that was…" Fury flooded his face and he shook the detective again. "You stupid son of a bitch, they let her off because she didn't do anything! You say you 'remember the case', so why don't you remember that the shooter was a goddamned mental case who was part of an after-school program for at-risk kids?" He looked at Buck and shook his head, disbelieving. "Kid's parents were drug dealers, tried to say the teacher was…involved with their son, drove him over the edge; they were just tryin' to get the law off their own backs, but it was a real witch-hunt for a while."

"And guess who got burned," the ladies' man said softly, with a pitying look at the woman sobbing quietly against Ezra's chest. "Good god, that must have been awful; tryin' to help a kid in trouble and then…" His anger came back, and he tightened his hold on the detective's arm until the man yelped. "And then some half-assed moron like this comes along and tries to drag you through it again."

The police lieutenant came up at that point, breathing fire. "What's going on here? Let go of my detective this instant!"

"You may not be so quick to claim him once you find out what he's been up to," Chris said disgustedly, but he and Buck released their hold and shoved Marcus over to his superior. "It's men like him that give the law a bad name."

"I didn't know, Lieutenant." The detective tried to defend himself. "She's that teacher from Louisiana, the one involved in that school shooting; I just thought that if I could get a crack at her before she had time to calm down and make up an alibi…"

"Just thought you might get a promotion for cracking this case?" the lieutenant interrupted. He looked as disgusted as Chris and Buck and almost as angry. "Get your ass back to the precinct, Detective; we'll discuss this incident further when I'm done here." He turned to the ATF agents with a grimace. "You boys plan to file a complaint?"

"Four of them," Ezra growled; he turned slightly, the hand on Juliet's shoulder unobtrusively pulling aside the shimmering layers of her petal-shaped sleeve to expose the livid red precursors of blooming bruises where the detective had gripped her arm. "One from each of us would only be appropriate, ah believe--and your department owes Miss Moore a formal apology."

"She'll have it." The lieutenant started to take a step nearer to the small woman, but the look in the federal agent's green eyes made him think better of it. "Mister…get her out of here, take her home; the two of you can come down to the station tomorrow and give us a statement..."

"Ah have a better idea," Ezra interrupted, his drawl thick and slow and dangerous. "Ah'll take Miss Moore home, and then tomorrow mornin' you can bring your apology to us-then we'll see about the statements, if you need them. And tell your men that we will be leavin' through the kitchen entrance; ah can't afford to fall afoul of the newshounds outside and neither can she." He dug in his pocket and fished out his keys, then tossed them to Buck. "Mr. Willmington will bring mah car around."

The lieutenant hesitated just a second and found himself pinned by a glare like nothing he had ever seen before from the tall blonde agent who he suddenly realized was the notorious Chris Larabee himself. "I-I'll see to it," he stammered, and scuttled away as fast as he could. He sincerely hoped that his captain would be the one dealing with Larabee and his men tomorrow.

The phone rang at seven thirty the next morning, and Ezra rolled over in bed with a protesting groan and dragged it off the cradle and over to his ear. "Ah certainly hope this is important."

"And if it isn't?"

Larabee. The undercover agent rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and pushed himself into a more upright position. "Ah have a gun and a shovel; no one will miss you."

He heard laughter in the background and realized that Chris must be on the speakerphone in his office. "Good morning to you, too, Ez!" Buck sang out. Ezra held the phone away from his ear and groaned.

There was a staticky click and the open-air echoing quality of the speaker disappeared. "Ezra," Chris said. "Is Miss Moore there?"

Ezra let his head roll over to the left; Juliet was curled up beside him sound asleep, wearing one of his white t-shirts that was adorably large on her petite frame. Her ebony hair lay around her in glorious disarray, the rhinestones she hadn't thought to remove the night before glinting softly in the faint light that leaked through the closed blinds. He smiled into the phone. "She's right here."

There was a moment's hesitation as Chris processed the intimate, almost proprietary tone the words were spoken in. "She all right?"

The Southerner chuckled, one finger captured by an errant curl as he brushed hair away from the peaceful face. "Sleepin' like a baby."

Another pause. "You okay, Ezra?"

Ezra sighed contentedly. "Ah'm fine, Chris, just fine."

The team leader cleared his throat, becoming businesslike again. "We'll be there at ten; Buck, me, and the lieutenant-his captain apparently told him to clean up his own damn mess. Think she'll be ready?"

Another chuckle. "For him to grovel in the dust at her feet? Ah'll make certain of it."

Chris didn't have to see the wry smile to know it was there. "I'm sure you will. See you at ten."

"We'll be here." Ezra replaced the receiver in its cradle and rolled back over with a sigh, resuming the position he'd been sleeping in when the ringing phone had woken him up; he drew Juliet back into his arms and sighed contentedly when she snuggled against his chest. It felt so good to love and be loved, he never wanted it to end…

He didn't realize he'd spoken the sentiment aloud; a soft exhalation tickled his skin as a sleepy voice murmured, "Who says it has to?"

He squeezed her a little tighter and buried his face in her hair. "Who indeed?" he whispered. "Certainly not I."

-30-

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