So, yeah, having to live with that definitely sucked worse than what Martin was dealing with at the moment. The irritation that Martin had been feeling toward Tanner suddenly faded, replaced by a subtle pity over what the guy would be facing should Chris be found. And if Chris wasn't found alive? Or never found at all? Tanner would spend the rest of his life wondering if Chris had turned to Martin because he'd didn't think he stood a chance with Tanner. The hesitancy on his part to tell Chris how he felt would haunt Tanner until the day he died. No, there was no way that Martin wished that on anyone.
And yet wasn't he doing the same thing to himself? How many times had he wanted to corner Danny and tell him that he liked him? That he liked him a lot, and wanted to kiss him, touch him and do all kinds of things with him? Far, far too many times. And Martin had always been afraid to say or do anything. What if it was Danny that was missing, and Martin facing the prospect of never seeing the man again? Martin swallowed hard against the knot that suddenly formed in his throat. Nodding, Martin promised himself that once this was all past him, he'd corner Danny and tell him how he felt, the consequences be damned. He'd rather try and fail and end up working somewhere else than to spend the rest of his life wondering just what might have happened had he spoken up.
Martin reached up and unknotted his tie, then removed it and shoved it in his suit pocket. The top buttons of his shirt were then quickly undone, and he slipped out of his jacket, feeling a bit more human now that he wasn't being choked by that stupid tie. He then headed out of the restroom and to the table, smiling slightly as he neared the large group.
There was an empty seat between Danny and Wilmington and Martin draped his suit jacket over the back, then sat down. He then remembered the Tylenol, and he knew that Danny would have a fit if he didn't take them. Since he didn't have anything to drink yet, Martin reached for Danny's soda, using it to wash down the pills. As he put the glass back down in front of Danny, Martin noticed that Danny was smiling at him.
"What?" He'd made sure that he looked all right before leaving the men's room, so Danny couldn't be finding some fault with his appearance. Heck, Danny had lost his tie, too, so he couldn't complain about that, either.
"Just glad that you decided to join us for dinner. Appetizers have been ordered, so you just have to decide on what you want to eat." Danny's smile remained steady, and for some reason that made Martin feel calmer than before.
"No problem. I'm pretty sure that I smelled steak being grilled," Martin replied.
"The steaks here are great," Wilmington said from Martin's other side, and Tanner, who was seated across from Danny, nodded.
"Most of the Mexican dishes are delicious," Tanner said. "If you think your stomach can handle the spice. Inez can always make something a bit less spicy, but what's the fun in that?" He grinned and Martin found himself grinning back.
"I second that," Martin said. "And while the Mexican stuff sounds tempting, my stomach is now in the mood for a nice steak, baked potato and Texas Toast."
Danny shook his head. "I keep trying to tell you that bread doesn't count as a vegetable. At the rate you're going, it'll be the cardiac care unit for you before you hit forty."
"Maybe, but at least I'll be happy getting there," Martin easily replied.
The beautiful woman who he'd spotted behind the bar when he'd rushed in approached them. Well, she approached him, ignoring the others as she asked what he wanted to drink. Since she appeared to be the only woman working in the place, Martin figured she had to be Inez.
"Do you have any Irish whiskey?" Martin asked. He wanted alcohol and was pretty sure that it would boost the Tylenol, working to get rid of his headache even faster. He also didn't care that Danny was frowning, even though Danny had never frowned at him before when they'd been out drinking.
"This is Colorado," Danny said before the woman could reply. "Not Chicago or New York. You're not going to find any Irish whiskey here. So you might as well order a soda."
"That's where you're wrong, senor," the woman said, her smile bright as she corrected Danny. "We have Jameson's and Bushmill's."
"Original, Black Bush or one of the malt's?" Martin asked, smiling back.
The woman laughed. "You know your Bushmill's, senor. I have original and the 16 year malt. Senor Chris requested that one."
Martin smiled warmly as he remembered Chris having that in the hotel room. "Chris definitely likes a good whiskey," he commented. "I'll have a double malt, with ice, please."
"With pleasure, senor." The woman then looked at his tablemates. "Would anyone like a refill or something else to drink? Another Coke for you, senor?"
Danny nodded and the woman took a few other orders for drinks, then headed back to the bar. Martin could feel Danny staring at him, so he looked the other way, not in the mood for another lecture right then. However, he then found himself being stared at by Wilmington, Standish and Tanner. Wilmington and Tanner simply were simply staring, as if they were trying to figure out something, whereas Standish had a frown on his face.
Martin chose him to stare down, not liking being singled out for any reason. After a few moments, Martin heard a deep chuckle coming from Josiah Sanchez.
"Damn, but he and brother Vin have the same glare, too."
"I keep tellin' you that they've got to be related," Dunne said from the other end of the table. "It's just too eerie for them to be so much alike and not be family."
Martin switched his gaze from Standish to Tanner and slowly grinned. "I guess that our secret's out of the bag now."
Tanner's grin was equally as slow and he nodded. "Looks that way."
"Think we should tell them?"
Tanner shrugged. "Don't rightly know. I mean, yeah, it would put an end to their curiosity, but…"
"But then we'd have to kill them. It being top secret and all."
Tanner shook his head. "Be a damn shame to have to do that."
"True. But being a local, you'd know the best places to dump their bodies."
"True."
"Oh, ha! That's so not funny!" Dunne said, frowning as he leaned forward to look down the table at them. "You could just say that you don't know and leave it at that. But no! You have to go and make a joke about it!"
"Who said we were joking?" Martin and Tanner said simultaneously. And that small fact chased away their grins while making everyone else laugh, with the exception of the younger man who was still complaining about their attitudes. And for the first time since he'd first seen Vin Tanner, Martin found himself giving serious consideration to the thought that they might actually be related. The prospect of having found a new cousin of sorts was nice, but it didn't quite cover the worry that Martin felt for Chris. Yet another thing to be handled once Chris was found and the case was over and closed.
Martin's smile returned as he found himself looking forward to finding out the answer to this particular puzzle. He was also pleased with himself for thinking about Chris being found, and not thinking the worst, as he'd been doing for most of the day.
"God help us," Danny muttered, and Wilmington voiced his agreement to that statement.
The woman returned with their drinks, and then began to take their dinner orders. She started with Danny, and Martin took a small sip of the whiskey as he waited his turn. The liquor went down nice and easy, reminding him of the last time he'd had it. Chris had poured a glass of it and would alternate between sipping it and dunking his fully erect cock into the glass and putting that cock in Martin's mouth, letting him suck off the whiskey. Chris was nothing if not inventive, Martin thought. It was then Martin's turn to order and he requested his steak and the trimmings, shaking his head when she asked if he wanted a salad to go along with that. Then, like Danny, she frowned when he said he didn't, muttering something in Spanish that Martin knew had to be about him not eating right.
As the woman, who Wilmington addressed as Inez, confirming Martin's guess as to her identity, continued to take dinner orders, a man came out of the kitchen with a tray of appetizers, setting them out around the table without ever asking who was eating what. Since nobody corrected him, Martin figured that the man just knew the group and their eating habits. A plate of potato skins topped with sour cream were placed on the table between Martin and Standish. Wilmington was quick to explain that he thought that those would be easier on Martin's stomach than some of the other appetizers, such as the nachos that the Jackson's were sharing, or the jalapeno poppers that were placed between Dunne and Sanchez, and the hot wings that were set between Standish and Tanner.
"Spice has never bothered my stomach," Martin assured him. "But thanks for thinking of me. So, what's the deal? Is this all mine, or are we sharing?"
"Sharing," Tanner said as he reached for a wing and began to eat it. "They'll bring out some plates in a sec, but they're usually so tiny they don't really count as plates. I won't blame you if you use your fingers."
Standish rolled his eyes, "Manners, Mr. Tanner, are the hallmark of a civilized society."
"And highly overrated when a man is hungry," Martin said as he reached for one of the potato skins. "Anyone want the sour cream? I can't eat it." He'd already had that cheeseburger earlier in the day, and even though the cheese on it didn't contain all that much lactose, he did plan to splurge and have sour cream on his baked potato, lots of sour cream. It was times like this when Martin wished he'd remember to always carry one of those supplements that would let him eat dairy products without having to worry about the cramping, bloating and gas.
"You're lactose intolerant, aren't you?" Tanner asked, although Martin felt it was being said as more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah, from birth, or so they tell me. I'm guessing that you are, too?"
Tanner nodded. "Yet another thing in common." Tanner licked the hot wing sauce from his fingers, then twisted in his seat to get something from the pocket of his coat. He pulled out a bottle, and Martin recognized it as being one of the supplements that he'd just been thinking about. He shook out two tablets and handed them across the table to Martin. "It's usually one pill, but this close to eating, you'll want two."
"Thanks." Martin smiled as he took the pills from the man. He popped them into his mouth and washed them down with another drink of Danny's Coke.
"I did mention you getting your own soda, didn't I?" Danny asked, trying to look indignant but failing. "And it's not as if you don't have your whiskey."
"You did, and I do, but I only needed a little sip, and I don't like to wash down pills with whiskey." Martin replied as he took a bite out of the appetizer. "Thank you for sharing."
"Damn, but you two remind me of Chris and Junior," Wilmington commented as he reached for one of the potato skins.
"Believe me, putting up with Martin is a finely honed talent," Danny commented as he reached across the table for one of the hot wings.
The waiter returned with empty salad plates and began to pass them out amongst the table. Before he was done, people were heaping various appetizers on their plates, and then Inez came out with a plate full of assorted appetizers.
Martin and Tanner both reached for the same stuffed mushroom, and Martin grinned across the table at the other man, who simply grinned back. Neither man released his tenuous hold on the item.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, boys! There's plenty of 'em," Wilmington stated as he reached out and grabbed one of the other ones, leaving at least five more on the plate, not counting the one that Martin and Tanner wouldn't release.
"Martin, play nice," Danny said as he bit into a chicken wing.
"I am playing nice. I haven't actually fought Vin over anything…yet." Martin flashed a grin at Danny, but he still didn't let go of the mushroom.
It was then Standish's turn to try to move things along. He sighed heavily. "Mr. Tanner, as one of the hosts for our dinner, it is your responsibility to be gracious to our guests. Let Mr. Fitzgerald have the mushroom."
"Ezra, you know I'm not a gracious kinda guy," Tanner replied, flashing a grin at Standish that was so like the one Martin had just given Danny that it made everyone except Martin and Tanner laugh.
The standoff over the appetizer might have continued if not for Martin's cell phone ringing at that moment. Since it was in his coat pocket, Martin had no choice but to let go of the mushroom, and Tanner immediately popped it into his mouth the second Martin released his hold on it.
Making a face at Tanner, Martin grabbed his phone before the call could get forwarded to his voice mail, not even bothering to look at the caller I.D. "Fitzgerald."
"We've found Chris Larabee," Jack said, and Martin couldn't hold back a wide grin at the news. "He's unharmed, but we're having him checked out by the EMTs, just in case."
"That's great news, Jack. Hold on." Martin moved the phone away from his ear and looked around the table, not missing the expectant looks on everyone's face. "They found Chris and he's okay."
There was a round of cheers at that news, and Martin had to strain to hear Jack over the din of questions that came afterward. He got to his feet and headed for the hallway that led back to the restrooms, knowing it would be quieter there.
"Where was he?" Martin asked, hoping that Chris hadn't been kept in some dark and damp basement, or worse.
"Ella Gaines had him at her penthouse, quite against his will. Sam's taking her down to be formally charged right now. The woman is not a happy camper, to put it mildly. And I highly doubt if she's all there upstairs, either. There's a good chance that she's the one behind the murder of Larabee's wife and son."
Martin's eyes widened at that news. "She planned that?"
"Going by things she told Larabee, it looks that way. We're going to be going over her place thoroughly to look for any and all evidence on that. I need to go, the EMTs have just arrived to have a look at Larabee. I wanted to call you first, so you'd know and could stop worrying."
"Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate that. We're now at dinner, so I'll let his team know." Martin ended the call, and once he returned to his seat, he told the rest of them what Jack had said.
Buck Wilmington paled as he listened to the news about Ella Gaines being behind the deaths of Sarah and Adam. "How can that be?"
Martin shrugged. "Jack doesn't have many details right now. Apparently, she said some things to Chris that made him believe that she was behind it all. Jack's having the penthouse gone over thoroughly to look for evidence that can link her to their deaths. In the meantime, she's being taken down to be booked on kidnapping charges, at the least."
Wilmington shook his head. "This has gotta be killin' Chris. I never met Ella, I told you that earlier, but the way Chris talked about her, he never thought she'd be capable of doing something like that. It's like I told you earlier, Chris thinks he's a good judge of character, and to have it be her…" Wilmington shook his head again. "This is gonna kill him."
"We'll know more later, Buck," Martin assured him. "In the meantime, we know that Chris is alive and safe, and that's what matters the most now."
Wilmington nodded, then grinned. "You are so right, Martin. It's time to celebrate! Inez! Another pitcher of beer. Hell, give everyone in here a beer, my treat. Chris Larabee is coming home!"
The rest of the bar's patrons cheered, some because they were getting free beer, and some because they knew that Chris had been missing and were happy that he was going to be okay.
Martin leaned back in his seat, taking another sip of his drink. Chris was alive and safe, and at this point had no idea that Martin was one of the agents working his case. As much as Martin wanted to rush back to New York to see for himself that Chris was all right and then to ask him just what the Hell he was thinking last Sunday, he also wanted to let things end the way they were - with the two of them being supposed strangers. There was no reason for Chris to know that the guy he'd spent a week fucking had been spending time with his friends. Chris would return to Denver, find out that Tanner loved him and the two would go off and live happily ever after. Martin would return to New York, get up the nerve to tell Danny how he felt and then…well, he didn't know what the future held for them, if it held anything at all.
And, along with all of that, Martin would try to figure out just how it was that he and Tanner were related. Martin took another sip of his whiskey and looked across the table at Tanner, who was sharing a joke or something with Standish and Danny. All three were laughing at any rate. It then hit Martin that if he and Tanner were related, and Chris and Tanner became a couple, then Martin's anonymity would end. If Tanner didn't come right out and tell Chris about him, then at some point or another, Tanner and Martin would be at some family function together and Chris would be there. Talk about your awkward moments, Martin thought.
Everyone seemed content to eat and talk about the party they were going to have once Chris got back to Denver. Martin was content to just listen, finding that keeping track of the various conversations that were going on around him was a great diversion. There'd be time to obsess about Chris, Tanner and the future later. Martin finished his drink, and ordered another, steadily sipping on it as he contemplated just how lucky Chris was to have such good and loyal friends to come home to. There was one small thing that bugged him, and that was the fact that in-between talking to his teammates, Standish would send steady stares his way, a puzzled look on his face. It was slightly disconcerting, but Martin tried his best to ignore it.
Martin was suddenly nudged from his left, and he turned his head to see Wilmington looking at him. "I know that you and Danny were busy working your asses off here, but thank you for getting Chris back for us."
Martin smiled briefly. "I'll be sure to tell the rest of the team that. They did all the hard work."
"Don't let Martin fool you, Buck," Danny said as he leaned forward to look around Martin's body. "It was Martin who figured out about the store, and that's what led us to Ella Gaines." Shit, Danny would have to bring that up. Please, please don't anyone ask the name of the place, Martin thought. He was pretty certain that Wilmington wouldn't say anything, not after their earlier conversation, but someone else might ask, and Martin wasn't quite up to lying.
Danny then tilted his head to look at Martin. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you figured that out."
For a brief moment, Martin wondered if Danny had been sneaking sips of his whiskey, because he couldn't believe that a sober Danny would actually ask that question in front of everyone else. "I'll tell you about it later," Martin finally replied.
"Oh, please, Mr. Fitzgerald, tell us now," Standish said, an odd gleam in his eyes as he looked at Martin. "It's always interesting to see how you FBI agents think."
Tanner rolled his eyes. "As if you never knew. Ezra here used to be an FBI agent," he told them.
"And then I came to my senses and went to an agency that actually values good employees as opposed to kicking them to the curb due to baseless accusations."
That look in Standish's eyes was now harsh and no longer puzzled, and Martin suddenly knew that Standish had figured out that he was Victor Fitzgerald's son, or at least a relative of some sort. Martin knew he had two choices here - he could ignore Standish's insinuations and pretend that he had no idea what he was talking about, or he could try to come to his father's defense, even though he had no idea just what it was he'd be defending his father over. Either option had one thing in common, that being that Martin had no idea what the man meant.
"There are bad apples in every bunch," Danny said, butting in. "We never claimed that the Bureau was perfect."
"Maybe you never did, Mr. Taylor, but there are those within the Bureau, those higher up the food chain, who live and breathe perfection. Or at least the semblance of it."
Oh, yeah, Standish was definitely talking about his father, Martin thought. And it didn't surprise him one bit that Standish had nailed Victor perfectly. An ironic choice of words, considering that Victor Fitzgerald did live and breathe perfection, and expected it not only from those who worked with him and under him, but also from his children. Martin's sister had it a bit easier, as their father's idea of perfection for a woman wasn't as hard to attain as his idea of perfection for a Fitzgerald male. Martin was always aware of how often he failed to achieve the perfection that his father seemed to want so damn fucking much. Chris's voice echoed in Martin's head, telling him what a perfect slut he was, and Martin smiled wryly as he wondered just what Victor Fitzgerald would say should he ever know about the few things that Martin *did* obtain that perfection in. At the worst, it might just give the man a heart attack. A perfect heart attack, no doubt. One that met all the criteria of perfection in its execution and delivery, and Victor would be the perfect patient, as well.
Martin had lost track of the fact that the conversation had continued on without him. It wasn't until he heard Tanner raising his voice to Standish that Martin let himself be brought back to the present. Surprisingly, Tanner seemed to be doing his best to convince Standish to back off on the topic. That saddened Martin, because he didn't think it fair that his father should be something that came between friends.
"It's okay, Vin. Most of the people who have to work under my father share Ezra's opinions of him. They just don't voice them." Martin took another drink of his whiskey, a much longer one this time, and he contemplated ordering another right then so that he wouldn't have to wait between drinks.
Tanner looked confused, and it was Standish who explained things. "His father is Victor Fitzgerald. The Deputy Director of the FBI, and the man who refused to even listen to me when I was hounded out of the Bureau. He believed the lies and innuendos and couldn't be bothered to listen to someone who, in his opinion, was obviously out to give the Bureau a bad name."
The bitterness in Standish's voice was raw, and Martin knew just how the man felt. How many times had something happened that reflected badly upon him, and his father had refused to listen to any explanation he might have? If a teacher or principal said that something had happened a certain way, then they were telling the truth and there couldn't be any other explanation. After all, they were the adults in charge, and knew better than a child or teenager who was only trying to escape being grounded for a month or longer.
Again, Martin found that he had zoned out, because he was suddenly aware of yet another change in the atmosphere at their end of the table. Standish was still talking to Tanner, but his tone wasn't as bitter. Instead, it seemed to Martin to be sad.
"I failed to notice the resemblance before," Standish was saying. "And it is so apparent when looking at Mr. Fitzgerald just who his father is. They're not the same height, but the family resemblance is there, and you share it as well, Mr. Tanner. I suppose that it was your hair and bearing that prevented me from seeing it before now. All of these years working with you, only to now find out that you carry Fitzgerald blood in your veins."
Martin could see that the remark hurt Tanner, and that angered him. It was one thing for Standish to insult him and his father, but quite another to insult Tanner and the rest of the Fitzgerald family. Martin sat up straight and looked directly at Standish. "You can say what you like about my father, and even about me, despite the fact that you don't know me at all. But not all of the family is like my father, and I won't sit back and let you get away with insulting them. My Aunt Bonnie is one of the finest people I've ever known, and you have no right insulting her in way, shape or form." Martin hoped that his voice had remained steady, because he was shaking inside. His Aunt Bonnie was busy fighting a battle against breast cancer, and that was something she never deserved. She also didn't deserve to have someone sully her name and family, just because a person didn't like Victor, rightfully so or not.
The two men glared at each other across the table, and it was Danny who broke the ensuing silence. "The way I see it, you're both right. Victor is a royal SOB, and Martin and the rest of his family are decent people. And I for one, am not going to sit here quietly while someone else maligns someone who I consider to be a good friend. I'd trust Martin with my back anytime."
Tanner put a hand on Standish's arm, restraining him from moving and speaking. "We *are* the hosts here, Ezra," he reminded. "And I understand that you're still wound up tighter than a gnat's ass over Chris, but it ain't fair to take it out on Martin and on me. You've been knowin' me five years now, and you know I ain't like that. Want to go outside and get a breath of fresh air?"
Standish's answer was to get to his feet and stalk to the front door. Tanner shot an apologetic look Martin's way, but Martin was in no mood to accept any apology on Standish's behalf. He might accept an apology from the man himself, but in this case he was going to borrow a page from the book of Victor Fitzgerald, and not let Ezra Standish get away with letting someone else make his apologies for him. Tanner followed Standish out the door and it was as if the entire table let out a collective sigh.
"Sorry about that," Wilmington said. "We've all been a little on edge since we heard about Chris goin' missing. I guess that it's gonna take a bit of time to relax from that."
"There's no need for you to apologize, Buck," Martin finished his drink. "You didn't insult anyone." He looked around to see if he could get Inez's attention, needing that third drink more than ever.
Part Eleven