SERIOUS WARNING, PLEASE READ: This story deals with the sensitive topic of emotional instability, major depression and suicide. Even if you normally DO read death fics PLEASE CONSIDER TWICE if you want to proceed.
I mean, it’s Ezra we’re talking about here!

Oh, and get yourself SOME hankies …

*********
 

Ezra moaned deeply, burying his head into his hands as he felt the familiar cramps in his stomach and the burning in his eyes. Again.
//Not again, please, not again.
God, how I wish it would stop.

I have dreamed about you again, about your smiling eyes, when you looked at me. I felt your arms around me, holding me, felt your breath against my ear as you whispered something comforting to me when I leaned back into your arms, and we both looked into the fire that was running in the fireplace.
I felt the sensation of your lips brushing against mine in a featherlike kiss, saw the fire burning in your eyes as you held me close...

I wish it would stop.

I don’t want this images to haunt me any longer. I don’t want to see these eyes of yours burning themselves into my soul. I don’t want to feel my lips tingle when craving yours. I don’t want to feel your arms around me …

But it felt so good.

It felt – warm and secure. I knew I was safe within your embrace, my soul whole again when you cradled me in your arms. You were my safe haven. You ARE my safe haven, my anchor in a world that had lost its meaning to me. You gave it back to me, filling me with your love and affection.

In my dreams.
It felt right, in my dreams.
But it is wrong, in the real life
It is nothing but a night’s fantasy, leaving me cold and lonely in the light of day.
How long, my god … how long can I hold on…
Make it stop …please … //

The cramps finally overwhelmed him and Ezra felt with embarrassment tears running down his cheeks, heard his fervent shallow gasps as he tried to breath regularly.
It didn’t work.
It ended like it always did.
Ezra curled himself into a tight ball on the floor and gave in, no strength left to fight it any longer today, and let the dam break.
Again.
And the same time he kept his eyes squeezed shut, his mind producing images he didn’t want to see – yet craved for. Images of a certain blond-haired man with intense hazel eyes reaching out for him, smiling at him, touching him, holding him ...

Hours later the outbreak was over and Ezra found himself sitting on the floor in the dark, exhausted, a bottle within easy reach. It didn’t help actually, but it eased the pain he was feeling a little. At least it left him numb until he would fall into a liquor induced sleep. Which wouldn’t last long, though. He stared out of the window in the night, watched the lights of the traffic, and wondered where the hell this whole mess had come from, or when it all had started, if it would ever end.
Only to drift back to memories of dreams which weren’t real. Would never be real. And to take another gulp of his drink.
 One shouldn’t think that way of a friend, let alone let one’s mind produce such images.
Sparkling hazel eyes … a warm embrace … soft tender lips. Safety. Shelter.
Chris.
This time Ezra fought the cramps, took another drink, and he noticed absentmindedly that the bottle was almost empty. When had he developed such a tolerance toward alcohol? He didn’t care actually, as long as it helped him through another day, another night, wouldn’t prevent him from falling into the dark bottomless and cold abyss that had threatened to swallow him so many times before. And was threatening again. But not today. Today was over, Ezra sighed, as he felt his eyelids become heavy, sliding down. He would go to bed, sleep the effects of tonight’s  episode off, and be on work tomorrow. To dream again at night, to be haunted again at daylight. To ask himself for the nth time why he still was here, why he clung to it, why he fought, from day to day. Worthless anyhow, senseless.
Ezra climbed to his feet and staggered toward the bedroom, curled up under the blankets and was dead for the world within minutes.
And dreamed.

*

Ezra looked in the mirror and grimaced. He was looking like hell, but at the time he would arrive at the office no one else would notice, thank goodness. The dark circles under his eyes would be gone by then, as would the reddish tone if his eyes. He sighed and headed toward the shower. A nice hot one and a strong cup of coffee would get him started.

Ezra arrived at the office, exchanged some jokes with the others and sat down at his desk. A part of him wanted to scream, writhing in a sudden flash of pain, but he fought it down. Not now. Not here. This was duty, no time for useless emotional outbreaks nobody would understand anyway. He switched his computer on and concentrated on the problems at hand, losing himself in the daily routine.

“Hey, Ez. See ya on Monday.”
Monday? Why … oh. Monday. That meant it was Friday already? Ezra nodded his good-bye to his leaving friends, but his mind writhed in fear. Friday. It meant weekend. Two long lonely days, three even more lonely nights. Stretching themselves into eternity.  God. How was he supposed to survive that? Again?
Why? A little voice in the back of his mind nagged. Why try? He fought it back. No way. He would find a way, he always did. Clean the house, make some calls, watch TV … and then there still was the bottle, should his mind start to work overtime, provide him with images he didn’t want to see, thoughts he didn’t want to think. Ezra sighed and switched off the monitor. It was late already. He would go home. Although, he mused, he didn’t really consider the place he lived home. It was just a place he currently stayed.
Home was somewhere else.
With someone else.
But he wouldn’t be … would he?
Ezra sighed and left the office, heading toward his car and drove toward the direction of his apartment, switching on the radio.
And the images started.
He almost sobbed as the cramps took him by surprise but he was able to fight them down again. But they waited at the periphery of his perception, threatening to overpower him again. And from his experiences he knew they would, and he would find himself lying on the floor again, or on the couch maybe, or even in his own bed, sobbing like a little kid, wrapping his arms around himself and shuddering from a cold that was originated inside himself.
Ezra shook his head in embarrassment as he drove into his parking space and wondered again why nobody seemed to notice, seemed to care that he was running on autopilot for several months now. Maybe he was too good at hiding, too good in pretending that everything was all right, he was fine, thank you. Nothing to worry about, at least nothing that couldn’t be cured with a good night’s sleep and one hell of a coffee in the morning.
//Maybe you should ask for professional help?
Never!//
 He would never be able to erase that stigma, especially to the people he cared for,  the people he called his friends.
//What are friends for?// one of them once had said.
//No, my friends. I won’t tell you. I don’t want you to see me like that. And I don’t want to tell you about my dreams, about the abyss… the coldness //…or the thoughts he was having lately. They wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand. How should they? He didn’t understand it either.
Ezra entered his apartment, looked around it and felt himself engulfed by its emptiness and coldness. A coldness that was coming from somewhere inside of him, a coldness he didn’t seem to be able to get rid of, no matter what he did.
He was alone.
Alone with the abyss.
Alone in the cold and the dark.
Ezra headed toward the liquor cabinet and checked its contents. It would help him to make it through the weekend.
The moment he closed his eyes he saw the images again. Felt it again. And drowned in it. // Smiling hazel eyes, a pair of arms coming up to hug him, hold him tight, a pair of lips kissing his tenderly …
NO…
Why bother? Why not end it, once and for all, get it over and be done with it?//
Ezra started as he realized what he was thinking again. And it shocked him even more to realize that he really had started to consider it an option.
//God, how far AM I gone?//
He would only have to make it until Monday. Monday he would be able to distract himself in his work, joke around with the men he called his friends, and would maybe even catch one of those rare smiles that would warm him up inside. But until then – with trembling fingers he opened a bottle.
//Ezra Standish, you are a failure.//
He took a swing and sat down on the couch, switching on the TV without even looking at it. This weekend would pass.
//And if not, you still have your …  //
And the abyss opened.

*

“Ezra?”
Ezra looked up from his computer screen.
“Mr. Wilmington?”
“You okay? You look a little pale around the nose.”
He shot the other man a broad smile.
“Yes, I am, Buck. Maybe I caught a cold or something.”
//No, I am not.// a part of him screamed in agony.
// But what would you do if I said so? Honestly?  //
Wilmington nodded.
“If you say so. Hey, don’t forget the barbecue this weekend at Chris’s place. You’ll come, do you?”
“Of course I will.”
A weekend with the men he called his friends, fun and laughter and pranks, good food, too much beer, and company. Yes, he looked forward to it. It meant as well he would spent time with the man who haunted his dreams at night and his mind at day, would see him like he really was, relaxed and happy and smiling. The man he loved with his heart and soul, the man who meant more to him than his own life. To be with him would warm him, send the coldness and the abyss away, at least for a little time. For a little time he wouldn’t freeze inside, would be able to laugh and joke himself, without running on autopilot. He would enjoy being alive. For a short time. But then, he knew, the abyss would return, the mixed feelings of loneliness, guilt, cold, emptiness, meaninglessness …
Ezra noticed the trembling of his hands and laid them down on the keyboard.
Yes, he looked forward to it. It would be hard on him, it seemed to get more and more difficult for him to be around others.
But it would help keep the abyss away
At least for a short time.
“You sure you okay?”
“Yes, Buck, I am. Now stop fussing over me, will you? What have you planned for the weekend? Something I should bring?”
Ezra listened to Buck as his friend told him about the plans they had already made,  and smiled faintly at the other man’s enthusiasm.

 *

Ezra shivered, and looked down at his icy cold hands, noticed the blue shade of his fingernails. It was May, for goodness sake.
God, would he ever feel warm again?
He opened the bottle and took a swing. It wasn’t night already, but, who cared? At least it would warm him up inside, for a short time, and after that help him sleep.
Sending him another dream.
Helping him forget reality.

Ezra sighed slightly, thinking about the last weekend he had spend with the others at Chris’s ranch. For the first time he had eaten properly, and even enjoyed the food. He had laughed, wholeheartedly, and found he had enjoyed it, too. Only once the abyss had opened and Ezra had found himself leaning at the cool tiled wall of the bathroom, trying to regain his composure, fight the cramps and the embarrassing tears down and calm down his racing heart and his trembling hands. When he had returned to his friends shortly after, he had been smiling all over again, had let the autopilot take over for some time, until the abyss had retreated, waiting. Ezra had slept well at Chris’s place.
And dreamed.

When Ezra had woken up the next morning the abyss had been there again, fed by the dream, and had found him unprotected.  He had curled himself around the pillow, breathing in short, shallow gasps, hoping nobody would hear him.
The autopilot had taken over again.
He had had difficulties to look the other man in the eyes at breakfast. So he had just watched his interaction with the others, watched and enjoyed. Mesmerized by the sparkle in  those hazel eyes, the way the man smiled or how his black pants were stretching over ….
//Whoa, Ezra, stop right there! Not a good idea to revive the images.//  He called himself to a screeching halt, but it was already too late, he noticed, as he felt the first icy breezes surrounding him when the abyss returned.
God, there would come a day when he would totally lose it, he realized.  And this could cost one of his friends his life …
Ezra shivered and the abyss swallowed him.

*

Ezra pulled the curtains together. He just couldn’t stand the light of day anymore.
He walked over to the table and took the pen, started to write. When he was finished, he put the letter in the envelope and stared at the address, asking himself why …Should he really mail THIS?
Well, at least he owed the man an explanation. And he preferred it this way, not just leaving a note on the coffee table or at the office. This was more personal. Ezra grimaced. Hell, this was the most personal thing he had ever done. Would he understand? Or would he simply turn away, close the file with the name of Ezra Standish? It didn’t matter none, not any more. He wouldn’t see it, either.
Better this way than to get anyone killed because Ezra was no longer able to do his job. An unwanted image dwelled up inside of him, an image of breaking hazel eyes, blood covered hands, screams … and all of that because Ezra Standish was a coward. No way!
Ezra grabbed the letter, a little package he had packed for Vin containing some rather personal items he wanted the sharpshooter to have, and his car keys, turning around at the door and letting his eyes wander over his apartment one last time, saying a silent farewell to it as well.

*

Chris prepared himself some coffee and went to the front door to check out the mail. He returned to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, running through the several letters. He was planning on having a lazy weekend when something made him frown. Chris stopped dead in his tracks as he recognized the sharp handwriting on one of them and frowned even deeper A familiar handwriting. Ezra’s. Still frowning, wondering why his friend would send him a letter, to his home, instead of approaching him on Monday at the office, he opened it and started reading. The next moment he dropped his cup.
And grabbed the phone.

*

Chris met Vin outside Ezra’s apartment.
“Did he answer?”
“Nope. Neither the phone nor the door bell. You have the key?”
“Yep.” As leader of the team Chris had the key to every of his team member’s apartment, just in case. He turned it and opened the door, heart clenching in fear of what he might find inside.
The apartment was empty.
“What’s going on here, by the way?” Vin wanted to know. ”I mean, you all but ordered me here., without saying why.”
Chris hesitated, then handed over the letter he had received from Ezra this morning.
Vin started to read and paled, collapsing on the nearby couch.
“Wow, that’s … something. “
“What kind of a fucking friend am I, Vin, not seeing something like this? What a team leader not noticing one of my men …”
Vin nodded weakly, still trying to wrap his mind around what the letter had just revealed to him.
“Same here, cowboy. And if you ask me, none of the others noticed either. Ezra’s too good at this. “ He reached into his pocket, dialed a number on his cell.
“I call the others, the cops, hospitals and … and the morgue.”
Chris just nodded, desperately hoping they would find their missing friend. In time.
 
*

Chris couldn’t help it, he was pacing. They had called the police, given Ezra’s description, had looked for the Jag, or if Ezra had used his credit card somewhere. Nothing. He should have known, Ezra was good. If the man didn’t want to be found, they wouldn’t.
The phone rang.
“Larabee,” he all but barked.
“Cowboy …”
Vin’s voice. Flat and toneless. Chris felt the already tight knot that was his stomach tense once again.
“Vin?”
“He is found.”  The mere information, nothing more.
“Is he …”
“Yes. I just identified him.”
Chris clenched his fist and fought the tears that threatened to run over his face as he collapsed into his chair.
“How?”
“You don’t want to know.”

Right, not exactly, Chris thought as he let the receiver sank back. But what he DID want to know was why. Why hadn’t Ezra come to him, talk to him or Vin, or Josiah? Why had he not trusted them? Their friends? Even if … he gaze fell on the letter that was still lying on his desk, the letter he had received this morning. Had it really been just this morning, just some hours ago? It seemed to him it had been in another time, another place.
But it wasn’t.
It was the reality, the here and now.
And in this reality, Ezra Standish was dead. From his own hands.

He lifted the letter once again, reading it once again, still trying to understand what it meant. Truly meant.
 

// Dear Chris,
I am sorry. This is all that I can say.
Wish I understand it, wish I could explain everything to you, but I can’t. All I know is that I have done something I better not have. You see, the thing is, I am bi, attracted to men as well. Comes as a surprise, doesn’t it? Well, what I did is I developed some rather inappropriate feelings for you. I fell for you, Chris. And at the same time I fell into an abyss, dark and cold.
Somewhere along the lines live has lost its meaning to me, and I decided, before I become a lethal danger to one of the team, or force you to fire me, I’ll end it on my own terms, Before the abyss swallows me whole. I tried to fight it, I tried to be strong, but I don’t have anything left.
Take care,
I love you
Ezra//

Chris let the letter sink, asking himself again and again and again: Why? Why didn’t he come to him. Why didn’t he talk, say something? If not to him then one of the others. But their friend had decided to stay silent. Why, god, why?
He would never get the chance to find out.
Chris Larabee bent forward, hear buried in his shaking hands, and  grieved silently.

~Fini~
 
 

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