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lyl_devilTitle: Meet Me in Rio
Series: Spy Life #4
Author: Lyl (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyl_devil)
Rating: PG
Beta:strangevisitor7
Character: Ezra Standish – Magnificent Seven
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: I don't claim any rights to either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes occasionally.
Prompt table -> HERE (Previous Parts listed under table)
Prompt – 090: Home
Words: 939
Summary: Slow, deliberate steps got him off the plane and into the Rio de Janiero airport. Sheer will power kept the strain from showing on his face.
Note: This is really just M7 as spies in the Alias world right now, but I do plan to bring in Alias characters in the next part. Promise.
~!~
Slow, deliberate steps got him off the plane and into the Rio de Janiero airport. Sheer will power kept the strain from showing on his face.
While he could allow himself some limited rest on the flight, he needed to be on high alert on the ground. If his enemies had found out about his connection to the rest of the group, then there was a good chance someone could be waiting. If his friends hadn't already been killed.
Ezra mentally shook his head to clear his morbid thoughts. His injury was making him irrational. His enemies might be good, but his friends were better.
Coming around a corner, Ezra almost missed the long haired man by the water fountain.
A quick hand signal told him that they were both free of surveillance, and Ezra relaxed a little. He wasn't alone any longer, and he was almost home.
He'd passed through almost a dozen countries since the sniper attack this morning – dear Lord, had it really been less than twenty four hours – and he'd gone through twice as many identities. He'd laid down false trails, thrown around untraceable identities like they were party favours, and still it had taken him too long to lose his stalkers.
Passing by the water fountain, his contact fell into step along side him.
“Which gate?” Ezra asked, knowing that they wouldn't be staying in Rio any longer than it took to file a flight plan and get clearance to leave.
“Twenty six,” said Vin Tanner, his eyes sweeping up, around and ahead of them. Ezra didn't bother to check lines of sight or suspicious persons, because Vin was there to do it for him, one of only six people Ezra trusted with his life.
“How far?” he asked desperately, hoping he wasn't expected to walk the entire length of the airport right now. He honestly didn't know if he could.
“Three hundred meters to the outside door, then a shuttle will take us to the gate,” said Vin quietly. “You gonna make it?”
“I sincerely hope so,” he said, feeling the need to be honest. The wound in his side had become inflamed and extremely painful over the last few hours. Ezra didn't like his chances for survival if he didn't receive some form of medical attention soon.
“Who's watching our backs?” Ezra asked when the door came into sight.
“Buck.”
“Fabulous. Let us pray that my enemies are not attractive females, or we may not survive the day,” Ezra joked, though they both knew it was a lie. Buck may be a little loose with the ladies, but he was all business when he was working a job. He was also the mostly likely to blend into the tourists in the Rio airport.
“Almost there, Ez,” said Vin as he opened the door to the oppressive heat. The airport, at least, had had the illusion of air conditioning. Out on the tarmac, it was just plain scorching.
The ride to the private jet was quick, for which Ezra was grateful. The openness of the small golf-cart transport left him feeling too exposed this soon after a sniper attack.
Boarding the plane took more effort than he'd thought, so he felt completely justified collapsing on the nearest sofa. He didn't even complain about getting blood on the cream material.
“Ezra?”
Ezra opened his eyes to blink wearily at Chris Larabee.
“You hurt?” the man asked him, and Ezra managed a pained nod. “Vin, get the kit.”
“Where- never mind.” Then Chris swore and Ezra wondered at that. Usually, the hard nosed leader only used that language when dealing when a plan had completely collapsed or something unexpected happened.
“Are there ninjas?” Ezra asked worriedly, remembering the Beijing op.
“Shut up,” snapped Chris as he began to move Ezra’s clothing out of the way.
Looking down, he understood. A deep red had started to bleed through his rumpled cream shirt. “Oh.”
Vin came back with the medical kit just as Chris had torn his shirt open, and Ezra wondered what had caused Chris to turn so pale.
Before he could ask, Buck returned. “Whooeee, pard. You forget how to duck?”
Ezra frowned in confusion at the big man, barely feeling the prick of the syringe. “But I did,” he argued. “They were aiming for my head.”
“Who, Ezra?” asked Chris, and Ezra really wished he would stay still. All this dancing of Chris' was making his head spin.
“Don't know. Sniper in Vienna this morning,” he mumbled, his words starting to slur together. “Followed me through seven different countries and identities – managed to lose them in Tehran.”
He possibly saw some looks being exchanged around him, but couldn't focus enough to decipher them. He also couldn't seem to stop his mouth from moving, either. “Burned all my cash and passports getting here – had to lay too many false trails.”
“It's alright,” said Chris, his face finally still. “Just relax. We’ll take over from here.”
Ezra nodded and let the haze of the drugs draw him under until he could hear but not feel, which he figured was a good thing considering the things Vin was probably doing to his body right now.
“Give me a few minutes to get him stable, then we can take off.”
Ezra wondered who Vin was talking about, but didn't really care. He was with his family, and he was finally safe.
Some said that home is where you go and they have to take you in. For Ezra, home was where there were six men willing to guard your back while you were drugged into oblivion.
END
Series: Spy Life #4
Author: Lyl (
lyl_devil)Rating: PG
Beta:
strangevisitor7Character: Ezra Standish – Magnificent Seven
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: I don't claim any rights to either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes occasionally.
Prompt table -> HERE (Previous Parts listed under table)
Prompt – 090: Home
Words: 939
Summary: Slow, deliberate steps got him off the plane and into the Rio de Janiero airport. Sheer will power kept the strain from showing on his face.
Note: This is really just M7 as spies in the Alias world right now, but I do plan to bring in Alias characters in the next part. Promise.
~!~
Slow, deliberate steps got him off the plane and into the Rio de Janiero airport. Sheer will power kept the strain from showing on his face.
While he could allow himself some limited rest on the flight, he needed to be on high alert on the ground. If his enemies had found out about his connection to the rest of the group, then there was a good chance someone could be waiting. If his friends hadn't already been killed.
Ezra mentally shook his head to clear his morbid thoughts. His injury was making him irrational. His enemies might be good, but his friends were better.
Coming around a corner, Ezra almost missed the long haired man by the water fountain.
A quick hand signal told him that they were both free of surveillance, and Ezra relaxed a little. He wasn't alone any longer, and he was almost home.
He'd passed through almost a dozen countries since the sniper attack this morning – dear Lord, had it really been less than twenty four hours – and he'd gone through twice as many identities. He'd laid down false trails, thrown around untraceable identities like they were party favours, and still it had taken him too long to lose his stalkers.
Passing by the water fountain, his contact fell into step along side him.
“Which gate?” Ezra asked, knowing that they wouldn't be staying in Rio any longer than it took to file a flight plan and get clearance to leave.
“Twenty six,” said Vin Tanner, his eyes sweeping up, around and ahead of them. Ezra didn't bother to check lines of sight or suspicious persons, because Vin was there to do it for him, one of only six people Ezra trusted with his life.
“How far?” he asked desperately, hoping he wasn't expected to walk the entire length of the airport right now. He honestly didn't know if he could.
“Three hundred meters to the outside door, then a shuttle will take us to the gate,” said Vin quietly. “You gonna make it?”
“I sincerely hope so,” he said, feeling the need to be honest. The wound in his side had become inflamed and extremely painful over the last few hours. Ezra didn't like his chances for survival if he didn't receive some form of medical attention soon.
“Who's watching our backs?” Ezra asked when the door came into sight.
“Buck.”
“Fabulous. Let us pray that my enemies are not attractive females, or we may not survive the day,” Ezra joked, though they both knew it was a lie. Buck may be a little loose with the ladies, but he was all business when he was working a job. He was also the mostly likely to blend into the tourists in the Rio airport.
“Almost there, Ez,” said Vin as he opened the door to the oppressive heat. The airport, at least, had had the illusion of air conditioning. Out on the tarmac, it was just plain scorching.
The ride to the private jet was quick, for which Ezra was grateful. The openness of the small golf-cart transport left him feeling too exposed this soon after a sniper attack.
Boarding the plane took more effort than he'd thought, so he felt completely justified collapsing on the nearest sofa. He didn't even complain about getting blood on the cream material.
“Ezra?”
Ezra opened his eyes to blink wearily at Chris Larabee.
“You hurt?” the man asked him, and Ezra managed a pained nod. “Vin, get the kit.”
“Where- never mind.” Then Chris swore and Ezra wondered at that. Usually, the hard nosed leader only used that language when dealing when a plan had completely collapsed or something unexpected happened.
“Are there ninjas?” Ezra asked worriedly, remembering the Beijing op.
“Shut up,” snapped Chris as he began to move Ezra’s clothing out of the way.
Looking down, he understood. A deep red had started to bleed through his rumpled cream shirt. “Oh.”
Vin came back with the medical kit just as Chris had torn his shirt open, and Ezra wondered what had caused Chris to turn so pale.
Before he could ask, Buck returned. “Whooeee, pard. You forget how to duck?”
Ezra frowned in confusion at the big man, barely feeling the prick of the syringe. “But I did,” he argued. “They were aiming for my head.”
“Who, Ezra?” asked Chris, and Ezra really wished he would stay still. All this dancing of Chris' was making his head spin.
“Don't know. Sniper in Vienna this morning,” he mumbled, his words starting to slur together. “Followed me through seven different countries and identities – managed to lose them in Tehran.”
He possibly saw some looks being exchanged around him, but couldn't focus enough to decipher them. He also couldn't seem to stop his mouth from moving, either. “Burned all my cash and passports getting here – had to lay too many false trails.”
“It's alright,” said Chris, his face finally still. “Just relax. We’ll take over from here.”
Ezra nodded and let the haze of the drugs draw him under until he could hear but not feel, which he figured was a good thing considering the things Vin was probably doing to his body right now.
“Give me a few minutes to get him stable, then we can take off.”
Ezra wondered who Vin was talking about, but didn't really care. He was with his family, and he was finally safe.
Some said that home is where you go and they have to take you in. For Ezra, home was where there were six men willing to guard your back while you were drugged into oblivion.
END