Comparing Notes II: Josiah

What is hell? Hell is oneself.
Hell is alone, the other figures in it
Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from
And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.
~TS Eliot, The Cocktail Party

Every day was an adventure, Josiah Sanchez mused thoughtfully.

Ezra showed up late to work (as usual). Nathan called in and taken a sick day (not usual, but he had sounded tired on the phone). And Ezra, after arriving at the office, betook himself to Chris's office without being summoned first. (Highly unusual, given that the habitual debate over whether write-offs such as a five hundred dollar suit were legitimate business expenses had already been settled for their recently closed case.)

Behind the closed door and drawn blinds, there had been no sign of Chris's response until a muted roar of "WHAT?" nearly shook the windows of the bullpen. Another period of silence followed, before Ezra walked out of the office with perfect serenity in his expression. Chris, on the other hand, loomed in his doorway looking three shades away from apoplectic.

He pinned Josiah with a glare. "You're going with Ezra this afternoon to meet a material witness for our next case."

"Woah there, stud," Buck interrupted, thumbing his mustache. "Not that I'm complaining, but I thought the Judge ordered us to use this week to catch up on paperwork. He's giving us another case already?"

Orin Travis, retired Federal Judge turned Assistant Director at the Denver ATF field office and Team Seven's supervisor, had long ago discovered that paperwork was the bane of his underling's existence, and to be done properly generally required giving the men several days of dedicated time between active cases.

Chris's glare deepened. "He will be."

"Ahh." Buck grinned in perfect understanding at his friend of over fifteen years.

"What's the case, Chris?" JD cut in from the desk facing Buck's, nearly bouncing in his seat from curiosity.

"We're finding the snipers from last night's Kid heist."

"Really?" The dark-haired techie's young face positively lit up. "Cool!"

Josiah opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time by a quiet Texas drawl. "Judge Travis ain't gonna give us a new assignment 'til last week's bust is wrapped up, Chris." Vin Tanner, sharpshooter and second in command, leaned against the doorway to the break room with a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Junior, that had better not be your brand of sludge in the coffeepot!" Buck half-growled, distracted.

The Texan grinned, blue eyes twinkling mischievously over the rim as he took a drink. "Pot was empty, Bucklin."

"Your definition of empty is 'less than half-full', Mr. Tanner," Ezra remarked dryly. "But if we could return to the topic at hand?"

Chris nodded shortly. "With the international aspect, our team's regional jurisdiction makes us best suited to take this case. I'm going to meet with the Travis in four hours to make it official, and I had better have all of your reports to turn into him by then. JD, quit playing World of Warcraft and finish the last page of your damn surveillance write-up, then start looking for signs of anyone systematically checking the morgues. Josiah, you and Ezra are heading out once you're both done. The rest of you, get to work."

Josiah joined in the chorus of affirmative and turned back to his computer screen. His curiosity could wait a few short hours.

Finishing the last of his work with plenty of time to spare, Josiah pulled up his web browser to do some preliminary research on Kid. A traffic accident had made him late to work the day Kid's note had arrived down at the police station, and he'd walked into the office at the tail end of JD's impromptu information session in Team Seven's bullpen. Now, the more information he collated, the more found himself shaking his head.

Only the most driven of men would willingly dance with death. And only someone who didn't feel alive outside of the spotlight would turn a desperate treasure hunt into a public show, offering himself as the goal for two separate foxhunts: hounded by the police on one hand, and much more shadowy pursuit on the other.

Not all heists attracted sniper fire, of course — a good third seemed to be Kid simply answering challenges or foiling impostors from appropriating his name for far worse crimes, and thankfully those kind were the only ones where Josiah found record of the grade-schooler who seemed to chase Kid on occasion. A fair number of others had no outside interferences, but now, in last six months, heists were increasingly attracting gunfire, including one or two whose attendance included the Kid's other famous public hound, Saguru Hakuba.

"Mr. Sanchez, if you're ready..."

Josiah looked up from perusing the teenage detective's profile at Ezra's voice, realizing he had been distracted from his original quarry. Ezra stood placidly beside his desk while Vin slipped inside Chris's office to turn in the pair's joint write-up of the undercover aspect of the last case, ten minutes before the given deadline. JD had finished long before and begun his new task, brow furrowed, while Buck was still feverishly typing and muttering under his breath, glancing at the clock almost as much as his monitor.

"Of course, Ezra." Josiah closed the browser, turning off the computer with a smile. "Do you have an address, or am I following you?"

"Following, if you would. I only know the directions, not the address."

“Of course.” They headed out.

About forty minutes later, as they parked outside Ezra’s apartment complex, Josiah realized that the Southerner had been lying through his teeth.

"Ezra, what on earth?" he demanded, stepping out and shutting the car door behind him.

"Not here, if you would, Mr. Sanchez. Any questions you have may be answered in the comfort of home."

Suspicions growing, given the morning's events at the office, Josiah followed Ezra inside and up the stairs to the apartment, where Ezra unlocked and opened the door. Immediately, the sound of Nathan's voice—not home sick after all, apparently—reached his ears from further inside the apartment, cussing some unknown party out. Josiah's eyebrows rose. He'd heard that lecture of Nathan's before, aimed at Vin and Ezra, and occasionally JD.

"Ah." Ezra smiled faintly. "It seems Mr. Jackson has become acquainted with our esteemed guest's stubbornness and professional paranoia."

"It sounds rather like one of our brethren attempted to check themselves out against medical advice." And there was only one witness from last night who would be injured. Ezra never ceased to surprise him.

"Yes, he rather fits in," Ezra agreed, lips quirked. Reaching the master bedroom, he pushed open the door. "How far did he get, Nathan?"

"Too damn far for his own damn good," Nathan shot back, glaring at the Asian teenager propped up against the pillows of Ezra's bed, whose bandages were too white to be anything but new. "Cracked ribs can become BROKEN ribs, and those puncture LUNGS!"

The boy's gaze flicked past Ezra to size Josiah up in one of the quickest threat assessments he'd seen in a while, supporting further his conclusion about the teenager’s identity. Josiah seemed to fall under “not-immediate-threat”, because the boy stayed tense and a bit stiff, but didn’t move other than to give the three of them a polite, weakly masking smile: all teeth, zero sincerity.

“I’ve imposed too much on your hospitality already,” he murmured in lightly accented English, speech slightly broken by short pauses due to the need to breathe shallowly.

“You’re hardly an imposition, as a material witness,” Ezra replied smoothly.

“Nani?” Surprise flashed across Kid’s face for a moment, breaking through his politely attentive mask. Josiah didn’t even have to try consulting his rusty memories of Mandarin and rudimentary Japanese to realize that the interrogative meant ‘What?’

“ATF,” Ezra reminded him. “You’ve already met Nathan, and this is Josiah. Snipers fall under our jurisdiction. Thieves do not.”

Kid’s eyes roved between them, looking for the catch. “…Governments usually object to agents being accessories.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve left stuff out of a report,” Nathan replied.

As the thief’s wariness began giving way to vague bewilderment, Josiah added, speaking for the first time, “It's a question of priorities. A thief who harms no one and returns what he steals is far less important for us to catch than murderous snipers.”

Kid’s gaze sharpened, catching Josiah with an askance look before including Ezra in its breadth. “How many people are you planning to tell about me, Agent-san?”

“No more than six total, if that. Currently the only other person who knows of you is our esteemed leader, who is ready to chew iron and spit nails in your defense.”

Ezra did have a gift for metaphor.

Kid blinked. “…So, your team.” And if he knew the number of people on their team, he had likely recognized Josiah and Nathan even before Ezra introduced them. “…Okay.” The thief still looked wary, but exhaustion weighed so heavily on him that he had to be picking his battles carefully.

Ezra smiled. “Please don't try leaving again. I doubt Nathan's blood pressure can take it.”

The thief’s lip’s quirked. “Lost more blood than I thought. Not standing on my own again until I'm sure I won't black out.”

“He got to the closet before he collapsed against the wall and ripped some stitches,” Nathan informed Ezra, then added dryly, “Not that you know anything about idiotic stunts like that.”

With a genteel cough, Ezra demurred, “I plead the fifth on the grounds of self-incrimination. Nor was I the one who realigned a dislocated shoulder on my own rather than travel to the emergency room.”

That had been Vin, who hated hospitals almost as much as Ezra did.

“No, brother, you're the one who broke out of the hospital with a concussion and bruised ribs,” Josiah answered, pleased to see signs of real amusement creeping into Kid’s expression at the banter and some relaxation of the tense frame.

“There were extenuating circumstances connected to that chain of events—”

“No, there weren’t,” Nathan interrupted. “Leastaways nothing justifiable for the trouble you got yourself into. But our friend here needs to REST, and we can talk more after he wakes up and has a chance to eat something.”

The tone brooked no argument, and none present were willing to risk a reappearance of the Wrath of Nathan. Kid let his eyes drift closed, settling down into the pillows, and Josiah and Ezra joined the medic out in the kitchen to talk quietly.

The next few hours passed quickly between Josiah giving the other two his impressions of Kid, learning from Ezra how and why the thief had tracked him down in the first place, and discussing the best ways to coax information to protect his civilian identity from the obviously reticent teenager.

At Josiah’s suggestion, when Kid finally woke up after a few hours he and Nathan carefully moved the thief from the bedroom to the living room. A comfortably padded recliner offered all of the support of a bed, and the living room was much less confining that the bedroom with the added bonus that it held seating for four easily.

Even with Josiah supporting most of his weight during the relocation, Kid was pale once he resettled, and Nathan insisted that he eat before anything else. The thief had almost made it through a mug of broth when Ezra’s phone rang.

Pulling it out, he checked the caller ID, then set it on the coffee table in the middle of their loose circle on speakerphone to allow for a conference call.

“What can we do for you, Mr. Larabee? You’re on speaker.”

“JD found something,” came Chris’s disembodied reply. “Wanted to talk to Josiah about it.”

Josiah exchanged glances with Ezra and Nathan. “I’m here, Chris, go ahead.”

“Hey, Josiah!” JD’s bright greeting brimmed with excitement. “I was looking through the morgue viewing lists and stuff and looking for common links when I found someone really interesting checking out the dead bodies—at first I thought it could have been a connection if it was just an alias but it was too obvious if they were trying to be covert so I checked the surveillance tapes and it’s really him!”

The young tech paused for a response, and Josiah chuckled. “Really who, JD?”

“…Didn’t I say? Eheh. Sorry. I’m talking about Saguru Hakuba—the teenage detective that chases Kid most of the time.” Out of the corner of hiss eye, Josiah saw Kid tense as JD continued, oblivious. “He didn’t make it to Denver for the heist, obviously, but he’s here now, and checking bodies.” JD paused briefly. “He, um… looks like hell.”

…If possible, Kid seemed to go even further still. Josiah would have bet money that the thief had NOT expected to hear that. Deliberately not looking at Kid, he replied, “So, Chris, you want a professional opinion on whether or not to consult with him on this case?”

“Yeah. What’s your take, Josiah?”

“Mmm…” Josiah thought back on the profile he’d perused, and the new information JD had just shared. “I think someone obsessive enough to cross continents on the trail of a thief is likely to have found information that my be useful to our case. He's a licensed PI in the US, isn't he? I can approach him with an offer to consult with our team; better than letting him investigate alone and risk getting killed.”

“Fine. Feel him out, find out how much and what you think we can tell him.”

Josiah nodded, though Chris couldn’t see him. “I’ll plan bring him back to the office if I think it’s a good idea, and he agrees.” He smiled. “Whether or not Ez invites him over for dinner will be up to our witness.”

Kid didn’t move, but Josiah would have been willing to bet that the teenager was calculating odds and outcomes. From the expression that briefly flashed across his face, he hadn’t expected there to be a choice, if Saguru joined him. Josiah mentally sighed. The teenager seemed even more skittish about trust than Ezra had been way back when he’d first transferred from Atlanta.

“Witness?” Over the phone, JD inhaled sharply and then breathed, “No way…”

“…I need not remind you to practice the utmost discretion, JD,” Ezra commanded.

“What? No! I’d never tell!” JD sounded appalled by the thought. “But can I come over? Please? I’ll bring a photograph for Josiah, and be able to tell you whether Saguru’s still at the morgue on Beech or moved on to the one on 34th by then.”

Josiah didn't have the heart to mention that he'd already seen what Saguru looked like; it would have been like kicking an overeager puppy.

Chris’ dry voice came over the speaker: “Do you promise not to pounce the guy?”

“Chriiiiis… I can be professional.”

“You wear Geek Culture T-shirts on casual Friday.”

“No pouncing, Scout’s honor,” JD promised with a rueful chuckle. “But I reserve the right to ask for an autograph before this case is over.”

Kid started to snicker before breaking off with a pained grunt, which the speakerphone was apparently sensitive enough to catch because a moment later JD exclaimed, mortified, “Oh God, he HEARD that?”

The thief apparently decided there was no point in hiding, because he calmly answered, “You wouldn’t be the first law enforcement officer to ask for my autograph, Mr… Dunne?”

“Call me JD. I’m not old enough to be a Mr.”

“JD, then.”

“I guess it makes sense that you'd be popular in Japanese law enforcement, especially with the guys that chase you. Well, except for Inspector Nakamori,” JD added with an audible grin.

“Fascinating as this discussion is,” Chris broke in, “you can finish it in person. Ezra, I want you working your contacts who might have seen something before someone else finds them first.” A scowl crept into his voice as he continued, “I'm going to see the judge about what you suggested this morning, so don't expect me to be available for a few hours.”

“We hear and obey, sir.”

Kid snickered again, lightly.

Chris hung up.

“Charming fellow,” Kid murmured into the silence, earning a few chuckles.

“You should see him on Tuesdays.”

Ezra said his farewells and headed out. The interim until JD arrived passed quickly, listening to Kid—painfully and with many pauses to breathe—describe what he could about his pursuers and then attempting to coax and cajole even a few hints regarding his civilian identity out of hiding. It was a dance, finding out what Kid would risk when he obviously thought his civilian absence was covered for, at least or the time being. Josiah dearly hoped the boy was right.

Soon enough, a knock on Ezra’s heralded JD’s arrival. When Josiah opened the door the young agent stood slightly flushed and breathless from running up Ezra’s stairs three or four at a time, and gave Josiah a slightly manic, utterly delighted grin.

“Hi, Josiah! Hi, Nathan!” he added brightly as he entered, before he caught sight of Kid’s unmasked face, and several degrees of enthusiasm sobered. JD was perhaps the brightest of all of them — quick enough to recognize what Kid’s youth and an eight-year hiatus implied, particularly with snipers added to the mix.

“Hi. It's nice to meet you, Kid.” JD smiled again, friendly but not overwhelmingly eager, and held up his laptop case. “I’ve got one better than a photo — I brought the footage I grabbed. I can set it on Ez’s TV, if you guys want to see it.”

Kid shrugged, deceptively nonchalant. “I suppose.”

“Go ahead, JD,” Josiah added, and the young agent hooked his laptop up to Ezra’s TV without comment. When the video clip started playing, Josiah could see why. The blonde teenager was a currently a far cry from his impeccable appearance and comportment Josiah had read about in the profile.

“I trust this is sufficient.” Saguru’s clipped British accent came through Ezra’s sound system only slightly distorted, the words themselves a thinly veiled snarl. On the screen, he set a sizable fold of bills out, which the attendant snatched up and began counting. Saguru watched impassively.

Nathan whistled softly. “That’s a LOT of cash.”

“Five hundred, I’m pretty sure,” JD responded from his spot on the floor, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Kid. “This was at the second morgue. He’s still got the one on Ash and 34th to go.”

“A man doesn’t spend that much money on idle curiosity,” Josiah commented blandly.

Kid said nothing, staring at the screen like he’d never seen the detective before.

“Dang, Josiah,” JD asked, “do you think he'll even listen to you?”

“Well… I'd say that depends on whether he thinks our assistance will further his investigation, or if our presence will hinder his intentions.”

“He's a detective. He doesn't do revenge,” Kid murmured, but he didn’t sound entirely confident in the assertion.

“Detectives are only human, son,” Josiah gently reminded him.

And Saguru seemed to be taking this personally.

Kid said nothing, eyes still on the screen.

“I’ll be going, then.” Josiah stood up, stretching a little. He wasn’t old, but his bones weren’t what they used to be. “You said 34th and Ash, JD?”

“Yeah, that’s the only one he hasn’t visited yet,” JD replied, glancing at the computer and hitting mute as the video clip looped again. He left the visual up, though, which Josiah put down to having spent time learning the fine art of manipulation from Ezra. Josiah privately approved.

JD continued, “Um, good luck. Might be a good idea to offer to buy him an early dinner—I don't think he's had time to eat since he got off the plane this morning.”

“Ouch,” Nathan broke in. “On top of everything else, he's got to be ready to bite someone's head off.”

Josiah smiled wryly. “I’ll be careful.”

Josiah made it to the morgue without incident, then simply sat and waited in the car for Saguru to come out. It would be better all around if he didn’t actively catch the young man looking through the bodies.

When the young blond finally exited, Nathan’s prediction turned out to be accurate—Saguru, in Josiah’s opinion, looked like a miniature Chris Larabee in Ezra’s wardrobe, complete with thinly restrained, vitriolic glare.

Josiah pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and exited the car, badge in hand. “Saguru Hakuba?”

The detective turned slowly, balanced on the balls of his feet. Given the circumstances, it really wasn’t a surprise that he’d be ready for an attack.

“You have the advantage of me, sir.”

“Josiah Sanchez, ATF.” He held out his badge without moving closer, waiting while Saguru scrutinized the authenticity with a mental fine-toothed comb. “I’m part of the task force that’s tracking down the snipers from last night’s Kid heist.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow, otherwise expressionless. “And this brings you looking for me because?”

Josiah pocketed the badge. “You’ve chased Kid for the better part of a year, son. We were hoping you might have information we could use to find the murderous bastards. In exchange, my boss is willing to attach you to our team as a special consultant while we go after them.”

“The hunting hound once more,” Saguru muttered to himself, barely audible, then continued louder, “And what duties would "special consultant" convey?"

“Providing any and all information that would be relevant to the case, maybe some computer work with JD, our data specialist, and processing and synthesizing what info the boys in the field bring back.” Josiah gave the boy a faint smile. “I was told you're excellent at data mining.”

The detective considered the offer for a minute, weighing his options, then finally nodded. “All right. Where shall I report and when?”

Josiah grinned toothily. “Well, if you want to meet my boss tonight, we can wait at the Saloon -- a bar and grill by the office -- until Chris gets out of a meeting with our supervisor. Uncle Sam's tab.”

Saguru’s stomach growled loudly, and his mouth quirked just a hint upwards. “That would be acceptable, thank you.”

And the offer of food returns some humor and civility once more.

“All right, then,” Josiah smiled. “Let’s head out.”

He got back in the car, followed by a still slightly wary detective. Saguru didn't say anything as they drove off, choosing instead to tiredly watch the road through the windshield, and keep half and eye on Josiah. The silence stretched until Josiah's phone rang, and he quickly fumbled in his earpiece.

"Sanchez."

"Hey, Josiah!" JD greeted brightly, sounding like he'd been given a new gadget. "Did you find him?"

"Yes, he's with me..."

"Then bring him to Ezra's until Chris finishes with the Judge. He wants to see him."

It took a split-second for Josiah to process the pronouns, before his face nearly split in a wide grin. "Of course, we'll be right over. Half an hour."

"Problem?" Saguru inquired, tone not particularly worried.

Josiah flipped a quick right turn, heading back to Ezra's apartment. "Some very welcome news. One of my teammates is hosting a material witness for this case. He'd like to see you."

Which means he's chosen to trust someone of his own choice, rather than pure necessity. And you have hope of being more than a big bundle of snarl.

Of anything Saguru had expected to hear, however, this definitely wasn't it. From the corner of his eye as he maneuvered through traffic, Josiah could see that the young detective was dead white.

"You..."

"It's entirely off the record, of course," Josiah added, fighting to keep amusement out of his voice. "I imagine he'll be going home once he recovers. Our jurisdiction is snipers, son... not stage performers."

Saguru was silent for a long moment, a hand over his face, and then his shoulders began to SHAKE. "Who ACTUALLY wants to see me?" he asked between helpless chuckles. "...Because I can't imagine it's him. Not unless wherever you're taking us has several escape routes handy."

"There are several escape routes from Ezra's apartment, actually, but he's currently on bedrest." Josiah lifted his free hand and gently squeezed the young man's shoulder. "I believe he's been watching you spend a small fortune in an attempt to find him. You surprised him."

The laughter faded, slowly. "There's a switch."

Josiah chuckled and squeezed Saguru's shoulder again before letting go. "I can only imagine. I'm not very familiar with his career yet."

Saguru ran a hand through his hair, still somewhat pale. "It involves a great deal of confetti and rampant flouting of the laws of physics."

"Lord, he and Vin can never compare notes or we'll all be in trouble."

"You have a coworker who does the impossible?" The boy's tone was entirely matter-of-fact. Kid apparently really did do away with skepticism. Unless you counted the matter of trust.

Josiah, however, had been more worried by the mention of confetti. "Our sharpshooter has pulled off what most would consider impossible shots, but he also has a devastatingly wicked sense of humor and a prankster streak a mile wide. No one in the entire office has managed to prove that it's him, beyond the fact that he's never fallen victim to the truly outrageous setups."

"You're right, we have to keep them apart," Saguru agreed, some color returning to his face and voice, though it was hard to tell if the teenager was only humoring him about who they were headed to see. "Perhaps you could gift the man with fish-print shirts."

Josiah blinked. "He's ichthyophobic?"

"Well... I believe so. It's rather complex."

"Sounds about par for the course." Which piqued Josiah's curiosity something fierce, but given Saguru's posture, he decided to let the matter drop for the time being. "Since we're not likely to make it to the Saloon, just speak up if you see a place you'd like to drive thru. Ezra promised to shoot whoever used his kitchen when he wasn't present after Buck and JD ruined the oven and nearly set the kitchen on fire."

Saguru snorted. "If you know a place with a decent chicken sandwich, that will be fine."

Josiah grinned. "You're in luck. There's a Chick-Fil-A not for from Ezra's apartment."

"Perfect," Saguru replied, but his gaze had strayed out the window and his voice sounded somewhat distracted. Josiah was almost surprised that the detective hadn't foregone the delay of the meal altogether, before he remembered that he was still dealing with a teenage boy who likely consumed his own weight in groceries every few days, and hadn't eaten in close to eight hours.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Josiah politely ignored Saguru while the teenager wolfed down two chicken sandwiches in record time. He was still munching on a third when they arrived at Ezra's apartment and finished it as they took the elevator up.

Josiah led the way to the door, knocked once, and opened it, walking through first.

"We're here!"

TBC...

Thanks to WolfDaughter, for jumpstarting my brain to finish the last scene of this Chapter That Would Not End. Also to Ellen, for much plotting helps and listening to me write in realtime.

Next time: A conversation that was never expected to occur.

Please continue to review, because they really do make a difference in terms of inspiration and writing momentum. Thanks!

Ocianne

6/09