Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by Zia

Credits: Mirisch owns the Seven, I, unfortunately do not. Grace Mackie is of my creation, as well as the incompetent intern. My most humble apologies to Ezra.

Ezra could not wait to get to bed, even though bed meant sleeping in the CDC. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and remain there for the rest of his life or longer if possible. He watched from the backseat of Josiah's Suburban as the cold, hard rain fell from the unforgiving, depressing, gray sky. Beyond anything he had ever wanted in his life, he wanted to forget this day ever occurred completely, and it wasn't even 7 p.m.

Earlier That Day

Sunlight danced across Ezra's face, as he woke slowing opening his eyes to the world. He looked over at his alarm clock and rolled back over taking the covers with him. As if his brain finally clicked on, he reached over grabbing the alarm and looked at it again. Suddenly, he jumped out of bed, dressing very quickly. It was ten o'clock and he was late, not late like usual but he had missed his appointment with Grace Mackie, the woman whose gang he had infiltrated, along with his rendezvous with the other members of Team 7. Chris was really going to kill, if Grace Mackie didn't first.

Exactly, One Half Hour Later at Grace Mackie's Warehouse

Grace Mackie greeted Ezra warmly, as he stepped out of his JAG. Then she had her bodyguards work him over as punishment. As he lay gasping for breath on the cement floor, she dropped a slip of paper in front of him. Once he was able to breathe again, he picked up the paper and read the address scrawled on it in silver ink. It had the address of the warehouse where the transaction would occur. 525 600th Ave. North, in the heart of the garment district. He got back into the JAG, ignoring his protesting ribs. He was quite sure that several were broken, in the very least severely bruised.

Noon, ATF Building Parking Garage

Ezra cursed silently as he pulled into parking space. He beyond late now, he was heading into the category that no one ever really wanted to broach. He was late and hadn't checked in with the team. That was a rule that no one dared break. Everyone checked in, only if they were severely incapacitated or dead did they not check in. Ezra knew that the moment he walked in the door Chris would be there waiting to let loose on him for not checking on time. As he exited the JAG, the glared at the driver's side front tire. Subconsciously, he wiped his hands trying to remove the grime. As would have it, his tire blew as he was leaving the warehouse forcing him to spend an hour and a half fixing it.

So deep in his thoughts was Ezra that he failed to notice Cuervo winding himself around his ankles. As he fell, Ezra caught a flash of the cat's fur as he disappeared under his beloved JAG. Ezra had no time to place his hands in front of him to break his fall; instead his right knee impacted the cement sending waves of pain through Ezra's system. He cried out causing more pain to his battered ribs. He lay on the ground waiting for the pain to diminish, before attempting to stand. Slowly, and limping painfully he made his way to the elevator.

12:15 p.m. ATF Building 7th Floor

Ezra rested against the door that lead from the stairwell to the seventh floor. He wondered how the fates could be so cruel as to take it upon themselves and make sure the elevator were out of service, forcing him to climb the seven flights of stairs. As he moved to open the door, it came flying open hitting him squarely in the forehead. He cried out in pain. He staggered back forgetting that he was on the top step and fell backwards down the stairs, landing painfully on his back. He lay there with the wind knocked out of him. From where he was, Ezra could not see who had opened the door nor could he hear them making their way up nor see them coming down the stairs.

Gingerly, he pulled himself to his feet ignoring his screaming body and climbed the flight again and carefully opened the door. The hall was deserted as he limped gasping for air and from the pain to his office. He lowered himself into his chair, and opened his drawer pulling out a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. He measured out two, he thought better of it and took out two more downing them without water. He turned his chair around and closed his eyes for a moment.

A fuming Chris Larabee bursting into his office interrupting his rest. He swung the chair around and Ezra felt his face contact with a fist. The chair tipped backwards from the force of Chris' fist and Ezra's falling body, sending Ezra once again to the floor. He growled at him to get ready for the bust, and to get them the finalized address. Then he stormed out slamming the door behind him.

2 p.m. 525 600th Ave. North

Ezra stood leaning against his JAG waiting for Grace and her compatriots to arrive. When they did, he greeted her warmly kissing her on each cheek. As he pulled away he felt to barrel of a gun being pressed into the base of his skull. She wrapped arm around his throat pulling him to her. Yelling out to the ATF agents she knew were watching, she backed out of the warehouse with Ezra as her hostage.

From his vantage point, Vin sighted in on Grace and pulled the trigger. As he pulled the trigger, Grace moved putting Ezra in the line of fire. The shot from Vin's gun hit Ezra squarely in the chest causing him to black out from the pain of the impact and his bruised ribs, which he was quite sure were broken. As he toppled forward Grace fired at him figuring that he was trying to give his friends a clear shot. She emptied her entire clip into his back. Ducking down, she scurried behind the JAG using it as a shield. She placed a detonation device in the undercarriage of the vehicle; then she stood up smiling and pressed the detonator blowing the car to pieces and killing herself in the process.

Ezra awoke to see his car explode in a flaming hulk of twisted metal and raining debris. He groaned and his sides screamed back in agony forcing him back into unconsciousness.

2:45 p.m. Denver Mercy Hospital Emergency Room

He awoke to needles of pain stabbing his arm. He realized that the needles of pain were coming from an actual needle. The person causing the pain smiled at him in sympathy but continued. From he time spent in the hospital he realized that she was an intern. Not only did the Fates seem to enjoy the fact he was in pain, but they also seemed to enjoy inflicting the discomfort of inserting an I.V. needle by giving him an incompetent intern. After what seemed like hours, she finally inserted it correctly. To add insult to injury, she uncovered another needle and walked over to his other arm, inserting it into the vein. As the vial filled she turned around to grab another. As she switched the vials, she dropped the filled one onto the floor and watched as it shattered. She bent down to pick it up the pieces completely forgetting about Ezra. As she stood to throw away the pieces, she saw the needle sticking out of Ezra's arm and blood spurting out of the end. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she collapsed onto the floor.

Ezra realized that if the blood flow wasn't stopped soon, he could die from the blood loss. Weakly, he pulled the needle from his arm and applied pressure. Thankfully, a doctor walked in, realizing what happened he worked quickly fixing up Ezra and then dealing with the intern.

6:30 p.m. Denver Mercy Hospital Emergency Room Entrance/ Exit

Ezra sat calmly in the wheelchair as Josiah wheeled him outside. Most of his calmness was based on the fact that he was drugged... at least he was supposed to be. But the Fates in their infinite wisdom decided that the incompetent intern would administer the drugs. Instead stabbing the needle into Ezra's arm, she accidentally stabbed herself in the hand and in her panic depressed the plunger. She now resided on the trauma room floor in her own happy little world.

Ezra actually sat in pain, mentally planning his suicide if this day didn't end soon. Josiah hurried up, in order to catch the sliding doors before they closed again. He arrived just as they were about to close. He started to push Ezra through, when Ezra cried out. Someone had forgotten to lower to footrests on the chair, and the doors had slammed into his feet. Slowly, the doors opened again and they were able to exit the building. From his pain induced thoughts, Ezra ordered Josiah away and proceeded to wheel himself to the waiting Suburban. JD in all his exuberance, rushed ahead to open the door for Ezra. Ezra waited as JD opened the door and slammed his arm between the door and armrest of the wheelchair. He doubled over in pain, his friends bearing witness to his silent agony.

Somehow, he raised himself from the wheelchair and slid into the vehicle. He closed his eyes wishing for sleep, but not before one of his well-meaning friends hand slammed his hand in the door. Yes, by God above Ezra wanted to die.

7:15 p.m. CDC

Ezra gently lowered his battered body into Buck's bed, and prayed for immediate release into slumber. For once, the Fates deemed him worthy to receive his wish. Sleep overtook him, allowing him some respite.

Ezra felt like he was falling, very quickly he came to realization that he was right out of bed. He cursed vehemently as his body impacted with the floor and whatever resided on it. In doing so, he hit his broken ribs, landed on his knee, and smacked his forehead on something extremely hard. As he pulled himself back into bed, he glanced at the alarm clock and looked at the time. It read 9:00 p.m. Would his nightmare never end? Yes, it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day! And it still wasn't over.


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