AUTHOR - TJ

FEEDBACK - Yes, please! - MajesticAU@Yahoo.com

RATING - General... Except for a little language, I believe it's suitable for all readers

WARNING - As noted above, just an occasional bad word or two. Sorry, but boys will be boys!

PAIRING - As I'm trying to base this AU on 'series' canon as much as possible, my intention for the characters is purely heterosexual. Nathan and Rain being married is a good example. As such, and for this story anyway, I'm not exactly pairing anyone up and I'm not doing anything descriptive, so it's safe for all readers.

UNIVERSE - 'The Majestic' Alternate Universe

As much as is plausible, I've tried to incorporate plenty of series canon into this Alternate Universe. As with all new AU's though, twists are necessary.

(Please Note: This will be a closed AU only until I can get all of the introductory stories posted. After that, and if you are so inclined, you'll be able to join in.)

SERIES - Welcome to The Majestic

PREVIOUS STORIES - Nope! This is the beginning...

SPOILERS - As this is the beginning, there are none. However, if you're planning on consulting the Majestic AU Bible, be warned, there are spoilers for this story contained in the character bios provided at Page 2. It might be suggested that you learn more about the boys, only after finishing this read.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS - As previously mentioned, I have done my best to incorporate plenty of 'series' canon into this Alternate Universe. The Magnificent Seven fandom however, would not be the same without Mog's brilliant 'ATF AU' as well. These are the original, and the most popular depictions of our boys, and as I have utilized them as the basic building blocks for my characterizations, I gratefully acknowledge the creators of these two canon 'concepts'.

I would also like to take this opportunity to send along a very big Thank You! to Nancy. Without her patience and dedication, the staging of these AU pages wouldn't appear anywhere near as professional as it does. Making my vision a reality is all her doing.

To Joy and Gina, and the rest of the Blackraptor team, a big thank you, too. You all make this possible and let's face it... our lives just wouldn't be the same without a place to play.

Many thanks once again, to Antoinette, for her keen and critical eye. Your beta was excellent, as usual, and the questions you posed helped make the story that much better.

And to my second beta, Marnie... Lady, your help is always thought provoking, mostly relevant, and usually entertaining as hell. I'll never say never, but maybe, one day, I may see the world as you do. Until then, keep up the terrific work. You keep trying and I'll keep smiling. It is laughter after all, that makes the world go round...

ARCHIVE - Yes, but ask first please

SUMMARY - There are some people in this world who experience more than their fair share of ups and downs in life. For one man, the last few years have been a roller coaster existence, but he's about to come to a fork in the road. Deciding which path to follow could mean the difference between finally finding peace, and continued turmoil.

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DISCLAIMER - If only wishes did come true... Reality is harsh

John Watson and CBS own The Magnificent Seven and all of its characters.
I seek, nor shall receive, profit from this narrative.

I claim All Original Characters as my own.

Please, do not use them without my express permission.

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WRITER'S NOTES - An introduction to this AU can be found in the Majestic AU Bible. However, as indicated above, unless you like spoilers, consult ONLY Page 1 before reading this story. Character information for our Seven, as well as the mentioned spoilers, is contained on Page 2. The 'other' character bios will be on Page 3, but there are a lot of spoilers for particular individuals and story arcs in that one, so I'll add it at a later date.

In stories of all types, there is often a very fine line between fact and fiction. Obviously, there is a great deal of fiction in this story. The foundation however, is deeply seated in fact. It is my hope that the blend proves both entertaining and intriguing.

Enjoy!

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"Thank you for coming, Mr. Larabee," Sylvester Newel said as he entered his office and extended a greeting.

Waiting in one of two large black comfy chairs, Chris stood and politely shook hands, all the while trying to ignore the fact that he really didn't want to be here. He was tired and anxious. His long journey had been made against his better judgment, and the sudden remembrance of his contempt for this man wasn't helping the situation much either... but here he was just the same.

For weeks, the insistent invitations had kept coming. Eventually, Larabee had decided to accept, justifying his decision with the idea that it wasn't Newel's fault who he worked for. As he sat back down, Chris tried hard to keep this fact in mind. He had also recognized, despite the present circumstances, that his long-standing grudge against the man's client might actually have waned a little with the passage of time.

And time was supposed to 'heal all wounds', right?

Feelings of resentment were still there however and Chris was still unsure if he could truly forgive. He did know he was starting to forget though and that idea scared the hell out of him. Three years was a long time, and yet, being here again was obviously bringing back some unwanted memories...

Now seated behind his large desk, the lawyer was shuffling papers. Chris watched through narrowed eyes, wondering for the hundredth time why he'd been summoned.

Newel was all work. He reminded Larabee of a peacock, all dressed up in his fine tailored suit. Past meetings had certainly proven the man could strut, and the fancy décor littering his office only added proof to the claim. Such a contrast from the badly maintained apartment building Larabee now lived in...

Blinking away his momentary lapse in concentration, Larabee's impatience grew as his questions gradually returned. What was going on anyway? Why was he really here? The entire trip he'd had nothing to do but wonder about the motivations behind the unrelenting requests. Finally, Chris just had to know, "What's this all about, Newel?"

Glancing up at his guest, Sylvester did his best to be cordial as he smiled and set his paperwork down. "You got my letter, Mr. Larabee?"

"All of them... And the plane tickets," Chris added pithily. "Which explains how I got here... but not the why." Sitting forward over his knees, he eyed the man suspiciously. "I'm also real curious as to why the travel documents were only good for one-way fare."

"Ah, yes, well..." Newel stuttered uneasily. He was quickly being reminded of the fact that his visitor didn't like him very much. Clearly, pleasant conversation wasn't going to change this particular detail, so he decided he'd better come straight to his point. "As you may remember, Mr. Larabee, this office has represented the Connelly family for several generations..."

"I thought that was all dealt with," Chris interrupted rather indignantly. The memories assaulting him this time were angry resentful ones, which came across clearly in his tone. "Hank wanted his little girl back and I sure as hell wasn't in any position to argue. What's he want now... the few things I have left?"

Rolling his shoulders against the gruff accusation, Sylvester shook his head as he continued, trying to remain calm. "I am once again representing your father-in-law, Mr. Larabee, but Hank Connelly doesn't want anything anymore. He... He's dead."

To say he was taken aback would be putting it mildly. Chris Larabee had never liked being put in his place. He bore the ultimate 'take charge' personality and it was perhaps exactly this fact which had put him at odds with Hank Connelly in the first place. He had resented the man almost from the first time they'd met, and that had continued even after they'd become kin. In the end though, he'd come to hate Hank as well.

Three years ago they were two men caught in the most horrible of circumstances. Fighting over a woman who deserved their memories of love, not their growing hatred for one another. Looking into Sylvester Newel's eyes, acknowledging such unexpected news, Chris was finally forced to admit that the severity of those feelings had indeed lessened over time.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Sarah Elizabeth Connelly was such a beauty. She'd caught Larabee's eye from the very moment he'd walked into the main greeting hall of Hank's resort ten years before. Chris was there with three friends, out doing what he loved, but rarely got the chance to do. Having such a stressful and outrageous schedule did that to a man. But such was the life of a senior FEMA agent and he did love his job as much as he enjoyed his time away.

Where the hell Buck got the idea to come to Canada, Chris was never sure. The two men had been friends since high school and followed that by joining the service together. A few years later, they'd managed two tours on the same SEAL team. Bottom line was... if he could trust Wilmington with his life, he could trust him to plan a vacation... couldn't he?

Eight hours, two plane connections and a bumpy four-wheeled adventure later, Larabee and his friends found themselves staring at a Canadian Bush-Pilot standing on the edge of a lake in the middle of nowhere. Glancing beyond the stranger, his eyes narrowed as he spotted the means of transportation waiting to take them to their final destination. "You are kidding me, right, Buck?" he glared at the six-foot-three frame smiling down at him.

Settling his backpack to the ground, Wilmington pursed his lips as he spied his boss and best friend. "Don't you go aimin' them eyes at me, partner. You said you wanted to be where no one could find us. Like I said before, I found such a place, and you agreed to come. Remember?"

"I don't think he meant the ends of the earth, Buck," Jake Percell added his two cents. Working closely with Larabee and Wilmington for more than two years, he'd gained a good perspective on their relationship and felt safe contributing his thoughts.

"I... don't think he meant our destination," Warren Beach pondered aloud. Climbing out of their vehicle last, the junior agent had been fumbling with his own backpack before finally turning around. He was now staring at the same plane he assumed Chris was questioning, although his eyes eventually wandered back to Buck.

"Ah, you're all a bunch of wusses," Wilmington huffed, but before he could say another word, their four-by-four transportation interrupted the conversation by starting and then revving its engine. The truck then did a rather awkward u-turn before peeling off back down the trail they'd come in on.

As the loud engine faded into the distance, an unfamiliar voice drew everyone's attention. "You boys plannin' on comin' with me, or... were ya ponderin' the joys 'a keepin' company in my old shack until Dwayne comes back for ya in a week?"

All four men had turned to face the well-worn dirt path they'd arrived on. As this voice beckoned them though, they quickly did an about-face, finding themselves staring into the blue eyes of a rough, yet worldly looking man.

At thirty-two years old, Larabee stood an even six foot in height and had a lean but athletic build. He figured their bush pilot matched him in size and strength but having a full beard, Chris wasn't sure about his age. "Been doing this long, Mr....?"

"Potter," the man answered as he extended a hand to shake. "Toby Potter, but most folks around these parts call me True."

"There are other people up here?" Chris asked teasingly and then smiled his apology.

"Interestin' name," Buck said as he took up the hand his best friend had just finished shaking.

"Got a good meaning, too, I suppose?" Warren asked as he took his turn.

Greeting the last of his four patrons, Potter cocked his head as a hand played in his whiskers. "My wife, Gloria, she works at the resort you're goin' to... She gave me the name the first time I came home to her."

"Sounds like a story in itself."

Chuckling right along with the youngest of his new group, the pilot continued. "Suppose. Was one hell of a storm, too, but I did manage to find a place, God knows where, ta set my plane down. Two days later, long after they all thought I was dead and gone, I flew old 'Margie' back ta Gloria and damned if that stubborn woman hasn't called me True ever since. Says my bones know True North without even lookin' and I'll always find my way home to her."

"Sounds like a damn fine woman if you ask me," Buck grinned mischievously.

Knowing directions wasn't the only thing Potter could do without looking and he quickly sized up at least one of the new clients. "She is... and she's taken. So don't you go gettin' no fool-hearty ideas whilst you're out there in the middle of nowhere."

Understanding his warning, Buck smiled his acknowledgment. He was suitably put in his place until another thought suddenly occurred to him. "There are other women where we're goin', right?"

It was Jake who quickly interjected, picking up his backpack and stepping between Wilmington and Potter. "Well, I don't know about you three, but True sounds like a pilot who can get us where we are going. Wherever that is...."

"Anyone else coming?" Warren concurred as he, too, slung his pack. He knew a cue when he heard one and the last thing he really wanted to do was listen to Larabee giving Wilmington another lecture about where his mind spent far too much time.

Trying to ignore his companions and retrieving his own gear, Buck looked over his shoulder and raised a questioning brow for his best friend to see. "Well, Chris? You trusted me this far, now you can trust True and 'Margie' the rest of the way."

"Margie is the plane, right?" Larabee was asking as he gathered his things...

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

'Margie' was the plane and Toby Potter was True to the very end.

A little more than six years after that first faithful meeting, he had done everything in his power to get his aircraft home one last time. Being incapacitated the way the plane was though, there was only so much Potter could do. Sadly, it just wasn't enough.

In both countries, the FAA cleared Toby Potter of any wrongdoing... his mechanic, too. It was definitely sabotage they concluded, but who the saboteur was, no one had ever found out. Not that Chris hadn't tried to find the bastard mind you. He'd hoped and wished and prayed at first, but finally, he'd had to accept the fact that the same plane crash which took True, also took the life of his wife and child.

The news was like a knife to the heart.

His father-in-law, Hank Connelly, took it much worse. He blamed Larabee. Blamed him for falling in love with his little girl. Blamed Larabee for taking her so far away from home, and then he blamed him for letting her come to visit him so often.

Chris blamed himself...

After years of whiskey, woman and too many wild nights, Larabee had finally been at peace, content in a new life. Almost ten years later, Chris could still remember so clearly... walking into the main greeting hall of the Majestic Resort and spotting the petite brunette behind the reception desk. Her hazel eyes sparkling and when she smiled, the whole world was brighter. For Chris Larabee, that first smile ignited a desire. The week that followed had been far too short...

Despite the distance between British Columbia and Nebraska, Chris made a second trip back.

Hank Connelly wasn't a dumb man, but raising a daughter alone in the middle of nowhere, had left him with a protective streak as wide as the Rockies were long. No one was good enough for his little girl and this especially applied to some hotshot American tourist who figured credentials and reputation were enough to impress. Of course, Hank didn't know that his daughter had already fallen in love. She'd spotted Larabee's lean muscular physique when he'd walked into the main hall that first time. The dirty blond hair and pale green eyes were bonus points and she'd found herself staring as she checked his party in. In the week that followed, she discovered the true depths of the man's soul.

Sarah and Chris were passionate and had such an easy relationship. Unfortunately, this was not the case where her father was concerned. If Larabee's second visit to the resort didn't have Connelly realizing he'd lost his little girl, then her making a reciprocal visit a few short weeks later, did. She was of age and no matter how much he hated what was happening, there was nothing Hank could do to stop it.

Sarah did come back to The Majestic several weeks later. She came to talk, but her father wanted no part in a decision that would forever change their bond. A new husband was bad enough. Moving to America, so far away, was a great deal worse.

Hank Connelly was devastated and he never forgave Chris Larabee for taking his little girl away from her home.

Sarah had always hoped her father and husband would eventually work out their differences. She did her best to stay in touch, writing to inquire about what was happening at the resort. Rarely did she receive a reply.

Sarah also constantly sent out invites for special occasions and holidays. All went unanswered. And even the birth of his grandson couldn't bring Hank out of his self-imposed discontent.

Eventually Sarah did force the issue. For their son's sake she insisted, but Chris knew better. For a year he'd watched his wife try, and fail. He knew her sadness and begrudgingly, he understood. So much of Sarah was wrapped up in her father and the life he had created for the two of them, out there, in the wilderness. And as silly as it might sound to some, for his wife's sake, Larabee understood Adam needed to know some of that life, too.

Eventually, it had almost become a routine. Sarah, with Adam as her constant companion, went to visit her father often. Two or three times a year in the later years. Hank was content during those periods, doing his best to hide his unhappiness. Each time they left however, his resentment was obvious. Nothing could blast Connelly from his judgment. There would always be a great bitterness between him and the other man in his daughter's life.

Larabee enjoyed six years of wedded bliss with the beauty he had the pleasure of calling his wife. She wasn't a city girl of course and adjustments to his life were called for in those first few months. The changes came easy though. Chris wasn't a city boy at heart either, but it took Sarah to remind him of his roots in Indiana. Together, they found a place outside the city to call their own. The sprawling acreage housed many animals. Chris rekindled his love of horses again and was more than content to spend his spare time in his new residence. Having Sarah there made it right. Having Adam at their side made it a real home.

And then came that horrible day...

Their trip had been planned for weeks, but Larabee's family never made it into Hank's arms. Chris pointed unwarranted blame at his father-in-law and Connelly reciprocated in kind. As the investigation unraveled, both men grew increasingly bitter, and this only escalated when Hank brought his lawyers into play.

Six years of building a life together and Larabee lost everything he had ever loved in a few short weeks. That terrible day had taken them, but in more ways than one, Sarah and Adam never came home to Chris.

Amidst his own grief and devastation, Hank proclaimed his rights and Sylvester Newel worked his lawyer trickery. Sarah was still a citizen after all and the plane had crashed in Canada. As such, both sets of remains were returned to her father to be buried in the Connelly family cemetery and, barring his visit for the funeral, Chris had never set eyes on them again.

Anguished, overwhelmed, and faced with such an ambitious, well-financed challenge, Larabee had been unable to dispute the ruling that took his family away from him one last time. Instead, he had forged a path leading straight to the liquor cabinet...

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Chris had gone to the brink and then dragged himself back again. The heartache and turmoil had slowly waned and as best as he could, Larabee was now starting to rebuild his life. He had steady work, which kept a roof over his head and food on his table. The job and small apartment weren't much, but they kept him alive.

Of course, the last three years of his life might not have turned out this way if circumstances had been different. He had been trying to forget this fact, but instead, he was here... back in Vancouver, listening to the same lawyer who had helped him begin that downward spiral in the first place. "Dead?" Larabee repeated. "Hank is dead?"

Sylvester Newel nodded his concurrence, "Yes, Mr. Larabee. Mr. Connelly died nearly eight weeks ago. He had been suffering from a form of dementia for some time and he... Well, he wandered away from The Majestic without notifying anyone of his plans. He was shot, Mr. Larabee. A hunting accident."

"Hunting?" Chris quirked a brow. "The resort is on a protected nature preserve. How is that possible?"

With a heavy sign, the lawyer answered. "Poachers... The, eh... Guide Foreman had been tracking them for more than a day when the alleged accident occurred. Hank was shooting more of his pictures and... they were shooting something a lot more deadly I'm afraid."

"Alleged?" Chris spat out. The legal term left a bad taste in his mouth. "Did they catch the bastards?"

Surprised at the apparent concern he was detecting, Newel nodded, "Yes! Thanks to Mr. Tanner, the three men are in custody awaiting trial on several counts, including second-degree murder. And Hank... well, he's finally at rest. He was, eh... laid to rest beside your wife and son, Mr. Larabee."

Listening to the story, a flurry of emotions had struck Chris in succession. At first, an odd satisfaction had welled deep inside him. Knowing his old foe was dead, pleased him... But then, strangely, he grew both angry and upset about his father-in-law's demise. No one deserved to die like that. At another man's hand was bad enough, but out there, in the middle of nowhere, alone. A brief thought had him wondering if Hank had suffered, but now, Chris found himself oddly at peace with the idea of Sarah having someone to watch over her again.

Finding himself now standing and staring out of Sylvester's office tower window, Larabee turned back to the lawyer, washing away his latent thoughts. "You brought me all the way up here to tell me Hank is dead?"

Having tracked the blond's path to his window, the lawyer's eyes followed him back and then watched him sit. It was only then that he began to explain why he'd summoned Chris, "No, Mr. Larabee, I requested your presence so we may attempt to settle Hank Connelly's estate."

Chris had a questioning look on his face a mile wide and Newel took it as his cue to continue. "You know Hank was a wealthy man, Mr. Larabee. The Majestic Resort has been in his family since the Nature Preserve was willed to his great grandfather more than a hundred years ago. It's twenty-five thousand acres of prime timber, mining assets, and unsurpassed, untapped fishing and hunting grounds. There are a lot of people out there who would love to get their hands on it."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Mr. Newel," Chris answered a little indignantly. "He was a powerful man. It was useless for me to fight him. He took my wife and son... or have you forgotten that?"

Bowing his head, Sylvester took a moment to clear his throat before looking back at his visitor. "I was only doing my job then, Mr. Larabee. Just as I am trying to do it now."

Leaning back into the large black chair, Chris crossed one leg over the other, allowing his ankle to rest on the opposite knee. "All right, Newel," he asked coldly. "Just what is that job now?"

He was unprepared for the lawyer's reply...

With the slight hint of a smile and great meaning suddenly in his voice, Sylvester Newel answered quite simply, "Preserving a legacy, Mr. Larabee."

Taking a breath, the lawyer then opened a folder and retrieved a single sheet of paper. "If I may?" he indicated the document.

Seeing neither objection nor concurrence in the blond's expression, Newel slowly began to read...

I don't have an heir anymore, Sly.

Your Dad was so good to my Grandfather and Father. You... You've done everything I ever wanted you to do... even when it was against your recommendation.

That just proves I'm a stubborn old man and I've had two long years to realize it. What I did to him... Well, I don't want Sarah to hate me forever. I don't know if this can ever be made right, but I want to leave him something when I'm gone...

Having relaxed his previous callous stance, now leaning forward in his chair, Chris interrupted, "What are you reading?" He was still somewhat annoyed but more than curious.

Setting the document down, Newel clamped his fingers together and gently tapped the desk several times with his fists. Pursing his lips tightly, he took another deep breath before answering. "About fourteen months ago, Hank flew down here and informed me he'd made a decision about The Majestic stock."

"Stock?" Chris asked, puzzled. "I thought the resort was privately owned."

"Oh, it is," Newel quickly corrected, "But Hank's grandfather used some outside investors back in the twenties to... invest new capital? Just after starting up, the resort went through some hard times, as did most of North America during the Great Depression. British Columbia wasn't hit as hard as some places but people weren't exactly arriving in droves to take a vacation. The only way for the Connelly clan to keep going with the resort was to... diversify."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "I know what that means, Mr. Newel, but I've always hated the implications."

"Quite right, Mr. Larabee," the lawyer agreed. "Particularly in this case."

Seeing Chris sit back in his chair again, Newel continued his story. "Among other things, silent partner stock in The Majestic has a very specific non-interference clause written into it. It has never been a problem and no one has ever considered it a necessity to buy the shares back. As I said, it was never a problem... until about a year ago. One of those partners... Well, his son died, leaving him with a grandson to take care of and a daughter-in-law who's using that fact to her own advantage. She's taken a very unhealthy interest in her father-in-law's assets."

Larabee was suddenly very curious. "She started causing Hank problems?"

"No," the lawyer answered, shaking his head. "Not really. Not directly and not in the open anyway. What she did do however was to quietly buy off all of those other old investors. I'm assuming most of them had no idea what the stock was worth, but... Well, the long and the short of it is, one silent partner now holds the other thirty five percent controlling interest in The Majestic Resort."

"But Hank owns the rest, right?" Chris asked without thinking, "So there isn't a problem."

One pondering look from Newel and Larabee quickly realized what he'd just said. He shook his head, rubbing his brow at the same time as he sighed. "Okay... so the remaining sixty-five percent is safely locked up in Hank's estate then?"

"Not exactly," Newel said hesitantly. Looking at the folder, he tapped it lightly. "After Sarah died, Hank knew he had no heir to pass The Majestic onto. He felt confident in certain employees though, and around the same time as he wrote this... he had me draw up some papers. At that time, we weren't aware the silent partner shares had been amalgamated and Hank had me transfer thirty percent of his stock to six of his most trusted friends, five percent each. He maintained the other thirty five percent under his name."

"Hank didn't trust a lot of people," Chris reflected quietly. He then looked back at Sylvester and cocked his head. "These friends must be something special if he trusted them to keep The Majestic intact."

"Yes," Newel smiled. "They all live at the resort... permanent fixtures I'm afraid. And just as his grandfather did with the silent shares, Hank stipulated some very specific requirements. Each of their shares must remain with the men, or any family that may come along."

"It's in their blood," Chris recited unintentionally. Cocking his head, he lowered it briefly before once again looking back into the lawyer's eyes. "Something Hank and Sarah always said about The Majestic..." reflecting solemnly, he sighed. "You've probably heard it before... that it was in their blood. Hank swore blind anyone who ever owned it would have to feel the same way, or they could never do it proud."

Sylvester was smiling now. "Yes, Mr. Larabee, which now brings me to you." Retrieving the letter again, he looked at Chris. "If I may be allowed to continue..."

Now totally confounded and confused, Chris nodded his consent and then sat back to listen. At this point, he didn't know what else to do.

"Let's see," the lawyer muttered as he looked for the spot he'd left off. "Ah, yes..."

... and I've had two long years to realize it. What I did to him... I don't want Sarah to hate me forever. I don't know if this can ever be made right, but I want to leave him something when I'm gone. It was in Sarah's blood. I can only hope she passed a little bit of that love onto him.

"What's he talking about?" Chris figured he knew, but the inquiry just came stumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Holding up his hand, Newel signaled his intent to carry on rather than answer Larabee's question. His eyes then went back to the paper.

The other thirty percent is safely in good hands, Sly. Thank you again for that. My thirty-five percent... I need you to make sure he gets it. But more importantly, I need you to make sure he'll keep the dream alive. If he can't do it... then you divvy it up between the boys. Vin gets ten percent and then split the rest evenly, just like before.

That recommendation I ignored way back when... I never knew what regret could do to a man's soul, but these past two years... it really has worn on me.

I'm writing this down because the doctors are telling me I eventually might not remember what I've said and done in my life. Right now I'd like not to remember the things I said and did to Chris Larabee...

"Me..." Meeting Newel's eyes, Chris looked at the man questioningly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hank Connelly admitting he was wrong? Never in his wildest imagination had he ever envisioned hearing these words. And okay, so it wasn't Hank reciting them, but like it or not, he understood that whatever the lawyer was conveying was actually fact. Accepting that made Chris sit back again, waiting for the lawyer to continue...

Chris Larabee is an honest, hardworking man who loved my Sarah more than life itself. So many times she tried to tell me, and I just wouldn't listen. I even took it out on poor little Adam. I wasn't the grandfather I should have been to that boy. I always loved him, but I know I could have shown it more... hugged him just a little more.

Watching Larabee's eyes close, Newel understood how Hank's confessions were affecting his visitor. He pressed on though, just the same...

Make sure Chris Larabee can understand I'm sorry for everything I ever did to him, Sly. I'm a bitter old man and a fool for punishing him. It wasn't his fault he fell in love with Sarah. Everyone did... but those two...they were so good together. I knew it, but I could never admit it. And that accident wasn't his fault either, but I blamed him... for everything. I let my anger and pain control me in those horrible weeks afterwards. My heart knows Sarah has always belonged here. She was born here and she was supposed to be laid to rest here. I was blind to anyone else's ideas... to his ideas, but I know all he wanted to do was take her home. To the home they made together... alone... because I was too stubborn and too proud to be part of their lives.

I don't regret my decision, Sly, but I do wish I'd let you talk to him instead of at him. Chris Larabee was never my enemy and I had no right to take my pain out on him. I just hope he can forgive me when the time comes.

Before he came, The Majestic was Sarah's life and I want him to be able to truly understand why I brought her back. She belongs here! Always did... but I know I took them away from him. I know it's too late to undo what I did, but I'd like to allow him the right to be with them again. I'd like for him to eventually be laid to rest beside Sarah if he so chooses. And maybe, in the meantime, he can find a little bit of forgiveness for this stubborn old fool.

Sarah and Adam are here, Sly. The Majestic is their home. It should be his home, too. Chris Larabee deserves a place to call home...

Silence enveloped the room as Sylvester Newel slowly returned the letter to his folder.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Several hours later Larabee was sitting on the end of his bed contemplating the hotel's mini bar. He so needed a drink but knew the only thing he'd find inside the small fridge was pop and beer. Nothing substantial enough to quench the sudden urgent need he felt to chase away reality.

Of course, reality as Chris understood it, had changed today. He'd spent almost ten years of his life resenting a man for loving his own daughter and then, after experiencing the most horrific of tragedies, he'd combined 'survivor's guilt' and resentment, into something much more destructive... an addiction.

As if losing his wife and child wasn't bad enough, being unable to bring them home one last time had made Chris want to die, too. He wasn't the type of man to curl up and fade away though. Instead, he succumbed to a dangerous new habit... alcohol.

Hard and fast was the way Larabee always liked his whiskey. Just a few shots and, once again, all was right with his world. Chris didn't have to think when he was drinking, and if he did... Just the thought of how disappointed Sarah would have been in him, was enough to keep the whiskey flowing. And so often, the whiskey flowed unencumbered.

In the weeks following the funeral, most people chalked his binging up to the tragedy and hoped things would settle down soon enough. Weeks turned into months though, and things at work weren't going so smoothly anymore. Friends slowly found other places to be during their off-hours and eventually, even Larabee's closest friend was forced to admit defeat.

Buck Wilmington had conveyed his pain and sadness one last time though, and it was still a very distressing memory for Chris...

Driving up to the Larabee home, Buck had sighed heavily. Chris hadn't been at work in four days and repeated phone calls had only succeeded in confirming the man was still alive. It was Saturday finally, and Wilmington had come to check on the man he'd called friend for so many years.

Getting out of his truck, Buck walked across the front yard and up to the door. He knocked once, twice, and then a third time before finally reaching for his wallet. He kept a spare key there but always hated the idea of intruding when he wasn't welcome. This was different though... He was willing to risk receiving one of Larabee's famous glares, if it meant he could at last get his best friend back on track again.

Chris had been devastated by the loss of his wife and child six months ago. Sarah meant more than the world to her husband. She'd somehow managed to change a work-obsessed over-achiever, into a calm, content, and loving husband. Dedication and duty didn't seem so important anymore and Chris would actually admit he enjoyed life away from the office. Nothing else mattered.

And then along came Adam. Even before he was born he was loved. Having his dad's pale green eyes and his mom's dark hair, he was a visible reminder of their union. If it were possible, Adam made his parents love one another even more, and together, the Larabees were the perfect family.

Sarah and Chris being together was all Buck's fault. He'd spent more than six years touting the accomplishment. 'Without me draggin' him off', he would say, 'ol' Chris would still be a lonely old grouch'. Knowing how devoted and focused to his work Larabee had been before, most people would never disagree. The truth was undeniable... Obscured beneath years of hard work and training, Chris was a real family man at heart.

Advertising his obvious connection to the Larabees helped mask Wilmington's true feelings for the couple. He'd always loved Chris like a brother. Since their senior year in high school, they'd been inseparable, and come what may, Buck felt he and his best friend would always be there for one another. Adding Sarah to the mix didn't change things much. Wilmington was Best Man at their wedding and when he came along, Godfather to little Adam. He also did his level best to act as an emissary between Chris and Hank Connelly when needed and Buck was the only one Larabee trusted to take care of his wife when he wasn't around.

At first, the plane crash that took Sarah and Adam away from Chris, affected Buck more than he was willing to admit. He'd always felt it was his responsibility to stay strong in the face of the tragedy and truly hoped one day, he and his best friend could remember the happy times without falling apart. Things had gone from bad to worse though and here he was, six months later, staring at the worst.

Walking into the Larabee home, Buck was immediately struck with the stench. Something was rotting or... someone had thrown up. Either way, the benefit of a good cleaning had been ignored.

Of course, Wilmington knew who... he just had to find out where. "Chris," he called out, not really expecting an answer. Checking the living room and dining area, Buck continued through the kitchen and into the family room. He stopped at the back of the couch, shaking his head at the sight before him.

Chris was sprawled out, his half-dressed body half on and half off the large beanbag cushion Adam used to lounge in. The case of whiskey Larabee had been working on this month was devoid of content and as proof, several of the empties lay around on the floor. The coffee table was littered with glasses and debris. Some of the clutter was food containers, emitting some of those foul smells. On the floor lay a half-empty pizza box that made Buck wince in disgust. At least the contents of Larabee's stomach were contained.

Throwing a blanket over Chris, Buck went about the business of discarding weeks of garbage.

He'd tried to help out more than once before, but Larabee had been adamant that he would take care of things. He rarely had of course, and this only served to make Buck mad. A large part of Wilmington understood his friend's grief. He was feeling it, too, but yet, felt compelled to keep his anguish inside until he'd helped Chris deal with his own. That wasn't happening though and Buck was growing less and less complacent with the idea of the drinking and meanness passing...

"What the hell are you doing?"

Garbage bag in hand, Wilmington had turned to look into the haunted eyes of his friend. The pale green revealed a spark of anger that Buck had rarely seen and he was cautious as he spoke. "Bout time we got you back on track, don't you think, Chris?" He'd added a smile for good measure

Reaching out to the kitchen's island, Larabee steadied himself as he got closer. "My business is my own, Buck. I told you before and I'll tell you again... Back off! I don't need your help. I can take care of my own problems."

Setting the bag down next to the fridge, Wilmington reached into one of the upper cabinets and pulled out a coffee mug. Finding the machine, he then poured a large dose of the brew for his best friend. "I know you can, Chris," he nodded as he turned and walked around the island to present the blond with the hot liquid. "But seein' as you've been passed out in the family room for who knows how long, I didn't see the harm."

Glaring all the while, Larabee took the offered mug but quickly realized it was too hot to hold and set it down. The sting in his fingers added to his ire and, still drunk, he continued his verbal assault. "You don't see the harm in anything you do, Buck? You're always so fucking happy-go-lucky. You make me sick sometimes... always so fucking happy."

As the insults faded, Wilmington forcefully massaged the back of his neck. He was quickly losing his cool. Months of denial was coming to a head and he could no longer hide the disgust he felt over the idea of his best friend throwing his life away. "This isn't what she would have wanted, Chris."

"Leave it alone, Buck!" Larabee warned in a low menacing tone.

"I have, Chris," was Wilmington's sad reply. "For six months now, I've left you alone to wallow in your hurt. Fuck, Chris... six months! You can't expect people to wait forever. They re-assigned your paperwork and open assignments months ago and McGill is about ready to fire your ass if you don't show up soon."

"Fuck, McGill!" Larabee shot back. "Fuck work! I don't give a shit anymore."

Looking into his best friend's angry eyes, Wilmington could see Larabee was telling the truth. He'd given up on work, taking care of himself... on life itself maybe, and that thought scared the hell out of him. "Don't you go talkin' like that, Chris. Nothin' is gonna bring them back, but I know how Sarah would feel if she knew you were givin' up."

"Fuck you!"

"Chris Larabee doesn't quit nothin'!"

"Get out, Buck," Larabee growled, his body tensed and ready for a fight.

It wasn't that Wilmington didn't know the signs. He'd seen the posture more times than he cared to admit, but always, the aggression was aimed at someone else. He never once guessed he could ever be on the receiving end.

Safe in that knowledge, he pressed on, still hoping to talk some sense into a man he cared about so very much. "I can't, Chris," he answered solemnly. "I love you too much to just walk away. That boy of yours, and Sarah... I loved them, too, Chris. Too much to let you turn their memory into something... tainted and destructive..."

Buck never got a chance to finish what he had been trying to tell Chris.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Still sitting on the bed in his hotel room, Larabee closed his eyes as the memory of his verbal and physical assault came rushing back. He hadn't let Buck get a word in edgewise and he'd beat him far more than he deserved.

In the end though, it was Wilmington who got the last word, and to this day, Larabee wished he could thank the man for being so stubborn.

It wasn't to be though...

Lying on Larabee's kitchen floor, bruised and bloody, Buck had, understandably, lost all composure. He didn't fight back though. Instead, he simply spoke, telling Chris exactly how he'd felt for all those months. He admitted how he'd cried in private, for the loss of his best friend's wife and a little boy who meant the world to him. He also confessed his growing anger and resentment about what Chris was doing to himself. Wilmington acknowledged how he'd tried to imagine the devastation from Larabee's point of view, but also came clean about not understanding how such a strong, tough, proud man could just give up on life so easily, refusing to carry the memories of his family with the pride and love they so deserved.

After the heart-felt speech, Chris had watched his best friend drag himself up from the floor and walk away.

Soul-searching wasn't something Larabee had done lately, but watching Wilmington leave, and knowing him the way he did, Chris had had no choice but to finally acknowledge how deeply he'd wounded Buck. That knowledge went far beyond the assault he'd just rendered though. He also had to admit the cruel treatment he'd subjected the man to in the past six months. And for all of it, Larabee was suddenly, so deeply sorry.

Chris never got a chance to express those feelings though.

Larabee was shocked back to reality that day. Unfortunately, it wasn't soon enough... The damage done was irreparable. The bank foreclosed on his mortgage in an effort to recoup some of their losses. Chris had tried to return to work to halt the process, but he was too late. His job was gone, and so too was the pride and reputation he had fought long and hard to establish.

For the second time in his life, Larabee experienced great loss. This time it was the remnants of everything else that had ever meant anything to him. It was a turning point for Chris. He could have curled up and died, but instead, he reached deep down into a soul that was barely alive, kick-starting his own drive and determination. With Buck's parting words as his constant companion, he became resolute in his decision to forge a new beginning. Work was the first step and, despite the different kind of reputation that now dogged his name, he did eventually find a job.

State Park maintenance wasn't exactly an exciting career but it was work nonetheless. It had been the stepping-stone to better things, too, and Chris Larabee did slowly forge a new life. Small though it was, he had an apartment to rent. He put food on his table and worked hard at regaining his previous pride, extending that to the image of a man whom he could once again be proud of.

Eventually ready to face the man he would always credit with saving his life, Chris made some inquires about his best friend. He was disappointed to find out that Buck had resigned his position with FEMA months earlier. No one there even knew where he was.

Undaunted, Larabee headed to Wilmington's apartment. He found it leased to new tenants. There was no forwarding address.

As a last resort, Chris called in a favor and managed to track down Wilmington's truck. Finding it for sale at a used car lot was his final disappointment.

It had been more than two years and Larabee was still hoping his best friend would walk through his door so that he could tell him his news. He wasn't thriving in this world but he was surviving day to day. Surviving to remember a wife and child with the pride and love they so deserved... even though he still had his moments.

Memories of both good and bad times always made Larabee a little wooly, and now was no exception. Being here, in Vancouver, closer to Sarah and Adam than he'd been in three long years, just made the loss of his best friend even more poignant. "And if that doesn't deserve a drink... then I don't know what the hell does," Chris concluded his own thoughts with a resounding huff.

Getting to his feet, he grabbed his key-card on the way out. Perhaps the hotel bar could afford him a little company so he wouldn't have to drink alone.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

With the dawn of a new day shining through his window, Chris cursed it, and his forgetfulness. If he'd drawn the drapes he could have at least got another hour of sleep. He could use the rest, too. His head wasn't exactly happy with him at the moment. His eyes refused to open and he was having trouble remembering what he'd done the night before. Rolling away from the sunlight however, all of that changed in an instant.

"Good morning," a bright cheery female voice offered.

Eyes opening quickly, Larabee took in the lovely woman beside him. It took a moment, but he did reply. "Knew it was morning just... didn't know how good it was."

She smiled for him and he smiled back. Slowly though, her expression turned to one of suspicion. "You... don't remember last night, do you?"

Too many times before Larabee had found himself in this position. Not of late mind you, and that idea made him angry and disappointed. Going back to womanizing and drinking was not something he wanted to do. Determined not to pass along his feelings though, he continued to smile. "Oh, I might be missing a detail or two, here or there, but I remember." Chris was lying but figured he was covering his tracks quite nicely.

"Is that right?" she asked, not convinced. Shrugging and showing the slight hint of a knowing smile, she then turned from his gaze, got out of bed and, naked, sauntered seductively towards his bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower... care to join me?"

All man, Larabee was watching her display, but still wasn't sure if he wanted enough to take her up on the offer. Her mid-length blonde hair and green eyes were more stunning than his own. Her long legs went all the way up to reveal some very shapely curves. Certainly very enticing and yet, not knowing how they'd got together, something was still holding him back. "Sounds good, darling," he called out as the water started, "But if you don't mind, I think I need a little more shut-eye instead."

Hearing what he thought was disappointment in her reply, Chris then rolled back over, pulling a pillow over his eyes.

For the next forty minutes, Larabee fought to remember the previous night. He listened to the woman singing softly to herself in the shower, and a glimmer of memory revealed her dancing with an older man inside the hotel's club. When the water eventually stopped, his imagination filled in the pieces as she toweled off, blew dry her hair, and then searched around the room for her clothing. In his mind's eye, he could see her saying goodbye to her companion and then checking him out from the other end of the bar. It was she who had approached him, of that Chris was sure. What he still couldn't remember though, was how they'd ended up in bed together.

"Do you even remember my name?"

Knowing she was now sitting beside him on the bed, Larabee slowly removed the pillow from his eyes. Looking up at her questioning expression, he tried to hide that what she was insinuating was in fact, true. "Did you ever tell me?" he asked cagily.

Sighing and shaking her head, the woman nodded. "Yes, I did. But then, when I did, I... probably also knew you were too drunk to remember it."

Shrugging just a little, Larabee now didn't feel any need to be making excuses.

Leaning down for a quick kiss, the blonde shrugged back and smiled. "Oh well, it was fun meeting a fellow American in a foreign country." Standing, she grabbed her purse, preparing to leave. "I have to meet someone for breakfast. Thanks for the good time, Chris," she cooed. "At least you weren't too drunk for that!"

As she walked towards the door, Larabee sat up and followed her with his eyes. He grinned proudly at her comment, stopping her as she opened the door to leave. "So... what is your name, pretty lady?"

"Oh... pretty lady is good," she answered, walking through the portal.

Chris could have sworn he heard her say 'Mary' as the door closed behind her.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

The blonde in his bed long forgotten, Chris now stood looking out of Sylvester Newel's eighteenth story window. In the afternoon sun, the office tower offered a spectacular view of Vancouver and the surrounding mountains, but Larabee wasn't exactly looking at the view. Instead, he was listening to the lawyer as he reiterated Hank Connelly's wishes...

"As I've already explained, Mr. Larabee, Mr. Connelly changed his will to include the stipulations he hinted at in the letter I read to you yesterday. The letter was... Well, he wanted you to hear the letter first. He thought it gave a better sense of where his mind was at when he made the decision."

Without turning around, Chris muttered, "I always knew that old man was crazy."

Newel cocked his head but held his disappointment at bay. "If you don't want the shares, Mr. Larabee, I am empowered to distribute them accordingly, but you must first meet the stipulations Hank laid out."

"Why?" Chris turned and glared at the man who stood on the other side of the office. "Just to prove he can still control me, even from his grave? Hank Connelly never did a damn thing I ever wanted. Why the hell should I do what he says, just to turn down something he wanted me to have?"

"There have been a lot of changes up there, Mr. Larabee."

"I don't give a shit!" Chris shot back. "I..."

Watching as his visitor briefly closed his eyes, Newel decided to speak his mind. "I understand your reservations, Mr. Larabee, truly I do. I know that's where you met your wife and I know that's where she died."

"Don't forget where's she's buried," Chris practically spat out. Walking back across the room, he did his best to turn his back on the lawyer and slumped into one of the two big black easy chairs. "You made certain of that, or have you forgotten already?" he was saying as he did so.

Slowly returning to his desk, Sylvester took up his own chair. Waiting patiently for the blond to settle, he finally continued. "Yes, Mr. Larabee, where she is buried. I won't apologize for my client, or his belief that his daughter was at home at The Majestic. I won't even apologize for making certain she was laid to rest there, against your wishes. But what I will say is this... In the three years since Sarah passed away, Hank Connelly came to believe he was wrong in the decisions he forced upon you back then. He acknowledged to me, and in that letter, that he wanted to make amends. He wanted you to be able to go visit your wife again, Mr. Larabee. He knew you belonged together."

As a hand slowly pawed at his forehead, Chris considered the proposal. 'Too little, too late' was his initial thought, but figuring he'd already said enough, he held his tongue. Remaining silent didn't stop his mind from reeling though. Just sitting here listening was hard enough. The idea of going up there, seeing the resort again, seeing all the places Sarah had introduced him to... seeing the gravesites. "I don't know if I can," he eventually whispered.

Newel gave Chris a moment before responding. He understood too well this was very hard on Larabee. Acting on his client's behalf, three years ago the lawyer had taken the last shred of dignity from this man and then fallen victim to his anger. Sylvester didn't hold that against Chris mind you, but the incident had given him a much clearer picture of the passion Larabee had in his heart. "You must at least go there, Mr. Larabee," he said quietly. "To fulfill the terms and conditions of the will. You must go back one last time before you give it up forever."

Chris glanced at the man before sending his eyes to the floor. Could he do that, he wondered. He'd fought so hard for Sarah. He'd fought so hard for the life they forged against unkind odds and then, fought so hard to keep her close when all was lost. Giving all of it up had sent him down a terrible road...

Three years ago, after saying his final goodbyes to the two people he cared most about in the whole world, he had turned to alcohol to ease his pain, eventually perpetuating the loss of everything else he ever cared about... The respect of his peers, his job, his friends, his life-long best friend and even the land he and Sarah had owned and the house they'd made into a real home.

The last two years had been an uphill battle. Chris had been moving steadily forward in the process of regaining his life though... even if he still had his moments. And perhaps he would never really be ready to quit drinking entirely... but he had cut back significantly. One small step after another and eventually, the rest would have to come, right?

Larabee did have a steady job. It was nothing spectacular, but it put a roof over his head and paid the bills. He'd made contact with old friends, too, even though one still eluded him. Things were okay, but... could they be better?

Could he bring himself to sit with Sarah and Adam again... talk to them again?

Could Chris bring himself to sit beside his wife's grave and admit he'd lost everything they'd ever had together? And if he could... visit with them every day... would it make a difference in his life? Was some sort of closure really as important as some people touted?

So many things went through Larabee's mind as he considered the possibilities. What did he really have to lose? There really wasn't much to keep him in Nebraska anymore, but the reservations he felt weren't about leaving all that behind. They weren't even really about the disappointment he felt in himself. He'd admitted that, and come to terms with it a long time ago.

Chris knew he had doubts, but the more he thought about them, the less clear they became. So many emotions, thoughts and feelings were floating around inside his head that he heard himself answer, but didn't really believe he had until Newel spoke.

"Yes? As in, you're willing to go back to The Majestic, Mr. Larabee?"

Looking up into the lawyer's eyes, Chris realized he really had answered. "Yes, Mr. Newel," he confirmed. "I'll go whenever you can make the arrangements." With a resounding, yet perplexed sigh, he then added, "Let's get this over and done with."

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Newel had told him some things had changed and, a day later, Larabee was finding that out first hand. The small plane that took him north was much the same, but the airport facilities and greeting counter had been vastly improved. The Majestic was now, apparently, a well-established cornerstone for business in the Williams Lake area and, although not accessible for guests, limited satellite and Internet communications with the resort management were actually now held on a scheduled basis.

The next leg of his trip picked him up at the airport as before. Again, the four-wheel-drive vehicle was much the same but, where a bumpy old dirt trail had once been, a graveled and much smoother path now snaked its way through some very pristine forest. Chris had forgotten just how beautiful and unscathed this country really was.

As his ride came to a stop, Larabee hesitated, remembering the next part of his journey. This was where Sarah and Adam had stood three years ago and although he'd been here shortly afterwards, the impact of that realization hadn't affected him then, as much as it did now. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and exited the vehicle.

Looking at his wristwatch, Roger, the vehicle driver, groaned, "That crazy old man is late again!"

As he watched the young man turn and start checking over his vehicle, Chris couldn't help but smile.

He remembered again how he and three friends had had similar reactions to True Potter the first time they'd met him. As it turned out though, that 'crazy old man' was only in his early thirties, just as most of them were almost ten years ago. The whiskers he'd sported threw everyone off but, as it also turned out, True liked it that way. He had always thought it heightened the mystery of his image...

Smiling at the fond remembrance, Larabee retrieved his gear from the vehicle and then walked it to the edge of the dock. He stood looking out over the lake. The clear cool water sparkled and for some strange reason, Chris finally found himself at peace with the idea of coming back up here again. His thoughts were interrupted though, when he heard an engine high above.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Larabee watched the slow graceful decent of his ride. Whoever the new pilot was, he knew what he was doing. He barely created a wake as he landed and then slowly brought his plane to the dock. As the engine shut down, a plaid-clad burly man stepped out and then came forward to greet his passenger. "Afternoon," he offered a hand to shake. "You must be the new boss?"

Slightly taken aback by the announcement, Chris replied, "Is that what they told you?"

"You aren't Larabee?"

"No, I am," Chris answered, but he was still puzzled. "I'm just not sure if I'm staying is all."

"Oh... So you're a little nuts then?" Presenting a big toothy grin, the man grabbed Larabee's pack and then headed for his plane. "Name's Sanchez by the way... Josiah Sanchez. But if you aren't staying, you don't need to know."

A little confounded, but amused, Chris followed the pilot and boarded his plane. Like it or not, he was ready to see The Majestic again.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

With an initial flight path high over the coastal mountains, the plane trip was so magnificent, the twenty minutes never seemed like enough time. Once over the ridge, the aircraft swooped down and took its passenger through a gently rising picturesque river valley before climbing just a little more. As it rounded one last large rock outcropping, the brilliant clear waters of the high mountain lake became visible. The surface sparkled, almost blindingly, but nothing could prevent yours eyes from discovering the large Majestic Lodge Resort situated at the far end of the lake.

As he'd done for almost three years, Josiah Sanchez leveled the wings of his aircraft and gradually descended, landing gracefully on the still waters. Carefully, he then guided the plane to the main dock. "Weeee're heeeeere!" he grinned as he turned to Larabee. "Want me to leave your pack onboard, or are you at least staying one night?"

Larabee raised an eyebrow. "Do you treat all of the guests to your wit, Mr. Sanchez?"

"Nope!" Josiah answered as he climbed out of his seat and then exited the plane. When Chris came to the door, he added, "Just the crazy ones."

Finding his smile again, Chris cocked his head as he watched Sanchez walk up the dock and head towards the main lodge. He noted the man had indeed not taken his pack and, jumping down, he gave due consideration to the question. Was he at least staying one night?

Bordered on all sides by nature, Larabee took a good long look around. He had somehow forced himself to forget but, standing in the middle of it all again, he was struck by the beauty...

Set on the shores of this high mountain lake, surrounded by a protected nature preserve, The Majestic Resort was truly... majestic. Near-by glaciers fed the crystal clear blue-green lake year-round and the many inlets along its shores provided great spots for those who came here to fish. Beyond the lake lay the forests and hiking trails this area was famous for, and still further out, were the mountains so many came here to climb.

Beyond his range of vision, Chris remembered that the landscape was dotted with overnight cabins for those adventurous enough to take two and three day excursions with the lodge guides. Most of those units were self-sufficient and had no power or modern-day conveniences, but visitors rarely complained. In fact, most complimented the lodge for maintaining environmental standards and preserving a way of life that had sustained a population of hearty pioneers in the centuries before. Of course, most of those same modern-day visitors were happy to return to the main lodge and associated smaller cabins, most of which contained most every modern convenience they expected.

As he turned to face The Majestic's main lodge, Larabee once again remembered what Sylvester Newel had said about things changing and he wondered what new items he might find. The question didn't seem so important as Chris took a good long hard look around...

The Majestic lodge was one of the largest mountain chalets ever built and was constructed completely of the native lodge-pine logs. The many roof peaks and vast sweeping windows allowed nature in, whilst keeping the weather out. And yet, for those who enjoyed the elements, large decks were available. They could keep you cool, allow you to take in the spectacular view, or let you experience a good storm.

Chris had known what normal log cabins looked like before coming here almost ten years ago, but his understanding of log construction had changed so dramatically since then.

The Majestic, truly was...

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

"That him?"

Inside one of the lodge offices, two men were looking out one of the large windows. The taller man nodded, answering, "Yep! Didn't think I'd ever see the day... but there he is."

Noting the apparent apprehension in his friend's voice, the younger man asked another question, "You gonna be alright with this?"

Turning to face his companion, the bigger man nodded again. "I know you've asked, Vin, but I want you to judge Chris for the man he is now, not the man I..." Looking into the sky blue eyes studying him, he shrugged a little, braving a tiny smile. "Truth is, I want to judge Chris for the man he is now, too. I just can't... do that right away. You go say hello. I'll wait... till the time is right."

"Sure?"

Shooing his companion towards the door, the big man was wearing a real grin now. Vin Tanner was a good friend to have, under any circumstance, but now it was particularly meaningful. Larabee could be a hard man to acquaint yourself with and, knowing both men the way he did, he would judge any significant change on the way the two got along. Seeing the other off, the tall man offered a heavy sigh, his reservations clear in the sound as he turned back towards the window to watch.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

With his pack now slung over one shoulder, Chris had made it off the dock and across the beachhead. He noted strategically placed planking in some spots made the journey a little easier for not-so-sure-footed guests and the simplicity of the idea brought a smile to his face. Curiosity was certainly rearing its head and, with that thought in mind, he took a deep breath, finally mounting the steps to the main lodge. A pair of old cowboy boots appeared in his path though and Chris looked up to see an unshaven, longhaired young man sporting a slouch-style cavalry hat in the same color as the tanned hide clothing he was wearing. ‘Indian scout’ was the first thought that came into his head, but then the man spoke...

"You Larabee?" a strong accent questioned.

Nodding and extending a hand as he came up to stand beside the man, the blond answered, "Yes, Chris Larabee."

"Name's Vin Tanner,” the young man offered as they shook hands. “Me and the boys are runnin' the place until that fancy lawyer fella back in Vancouver figures out who the new boss is gonna be."

Distracted by the strangely familiar twang, Chris completely overlooked the fact that this man wasn't already assuming he was taking the vacant 'boss' position. "You're eh... not from around these parts, Mr. Tanner?"

"Nope!" Vin grinned as he wandered to one of the stairway supports. Leaning against the upright beam, he seemed to relax into his element. "Long story. Mighty far from my roots I know. Never thought I could call any place home but Texas, but here I am! I came, I saw... and I fell in love with this land. The wilderness out here... it's a pretty powerful thing."

Following the man's gaze, Larabee had to agree. Standing on the large wrap-around porch, he was seeing things from a visitor's point of view now. The blue-green of the crystal-clear lake loomed imposingly in front of him. Beyond that, the mountains that gave it life, seemed just a little bit bigger, and the endless miles of forest, surrounding them in every direction, provided color contrast, intrigue, and the promise of adventure for anyone willing to experience it. Who wouldn't be struck with the majesty? 'Tanner has it right,' Larabee thought. The brief moment of musings however, gave remembrance to something Sylvester Newel had said just two days before. "Tanner?” Chris questioned. “You're the man who found Hank's body?"

Leaving his deep appreciation of nature behind, Vin tipped his hat to some patrons as they went by and then pulled Chris a short distance down the porch. "Hank was alive when I found him," he corrected. "But that didn't last long. I was close enough to hear the shots, about a half mile out."

"He... wasn't alone then?" Larabee said quietly. Back in Newel’s office he had wondered, and for some strange reason, knowing the answer actually consoled him a little.

Everyone up here knew Hank Connelly well, and there were a few people around who remembered Larabee. Although Vin had never met the man, he’d heard the stories about how much Chris and Hank didn't get along. He also knew first hand how much Hank actually regretted the estranged relationship he'd had with his son-in-law. Somehow though, Tanner just wasn't expecting to hear the same type of regret from Larabee. "Nope," the Texan confirmed solemnly. "Afterwards... took more than a day, but I brought him home. He's up yonder with his kin... if you care to pay your respects."

Glancing along to the far end of the porch, Chris knew Vin was pointing him towards the cemetery. He cocked his head and shrugged weakly, knowing full well he wasn't ready to visit there just yet. "I will," he said, and then paused. "Before I leave."

A mere moment passed before Tanner, nodded. "Alright then...." He wasn't a man to comment on other people's business, so he brought up a hand and indicated the main entrance instead “Can I get you settled, Mr. Larabee?"

One look in Vin's eyes and Chris knew their conversation was safely tucked away. He also knew instinctively that he liked this man. "It's Chris," he reminded his companion. "And no, thanks. I know the way. I'm sure you have things to do."

Briefly shielding his eyes with the brim of his hat, the Texan seemed to check the sun's position in the sky before sighing. "Yeah... Might just have to go on a rescue mission if another fancy fella I know, don't get his group back before sundown. Best go saddle my horse."

Hearing a strange mixture of annoyance and amusement from the wiry young man, Larabee quirked a brow. "Well..." Chris started to say. The military officer and civil servant in him was always ready, willing, and able to help in any way possible, but then he realized it wasn’t his place to interfere. Instead, he said, "I'll assume you have things under control then, Mr. Tanner. Let me know if you’re in need of assistance though. If not, I'll see you later perhaps. I'm always up for a... a long story."

Allowing himself a brief grin, Tanner nodded, acknowledging the easy manner in which Larabee seemed to grasp his meaning. If first impressions meant anything, and they usually did, he knew he could get to like this man. "It's Vin," he reminded Chris with a wink, "And thanks! A helpin’ hand is always welcome. Credentials like yours ain't offered to me everyday so I’ll definitely keep it in mind.” As though it were a normal part of his day to impart words of wisdom, he then added, “And do yourself a favor... don’t never assume nothin’ up here. Especially when it comes to him.” Then, without further explanation, the Texan simply smiled and, as he had done earlier to the passers-by, tipped his hat to Chris as he left.

Curiosity was bombarding Larabee by now. Referencing his credentials the way Tanner had, obviously meant that someone had told the Texan something about him. And what about Vin... This was truly an out-of-the-way place to meet a fellow countryman, and one who proclaimed such a strong bond to his new home, too. One thought lead to another and Chris found himself smiling. He'd only met two of The Majestic's employees so far, but he was already assuming the rest where just as unusual as Sanchez and Tanner. He suspected there was a story to be told by both men.

Searching out the Texan again, Larabee's gaze found him strolling casually towards the tree line. Chris noted that the young man once again checked the sun's position in the sky, and he was suddenly very inquisitive about this other fancy fella Vin had spoken of. A fancy lawyer was one thing, back in the big city, but just who was Tanner referring to way out here? His 'especially when it comes to him' advice was also very curious and for some strange reason, had Chris just a little bit concerned, too...

Not knowing details always made the former FEMA agent apprehensive and Larabee assumed it was this fact that was driving his uneasiness. What went on here really was none of his business though, and it took a minute to come to terms with the idea. When he did, the blond finally shrugged away his interest, adjusted his pack, and then turned for the entranceway.

Stepping through the large wooden and glass doors of the resort's main meeting hall, all of his previous musings were soon forgotten...

This foyer was no different than a lot of modern hotel lobbies. It opened wide as the door closed behind you, welcoming its guests with a unique grandeur. Any other similarities quickly faded though because The Majestic was truly one of a kind. Decked out in a rustic décor that complimented the lodge-pine construction exceptionally well, the casual old-world atmosphere of the resort was immediately imprinted. Solid wood furniture, rock fireplaces, First Nations carvings and tapestry, and other period items, all reminded visitors of The Majestic's long history. The aged pictures in old-fashioned frames were charming. The quilted fabrics and white linen doilies were traditional, and while the candle arbors and lanterns added an authentic touch, they also provided light and heat when the generators were silent. Topping it all off, the high vaulted ceilings and ample windows allowed you to bring a little of the outside world in, whilst still keeping it at bay. That wilderness could be not-so forgiving if not treated with respect, but, standing in the main meeting hall of The Majestic, you knew you were in good hands.

The grandeur of this entranceway aside, Chris was struck with both expectation and sadness as he stood frozen in time. Ten years earlier, it had been Sarah Connelly greeting him, her smile finding him in the vastness of this great hall. For just a moment, he anticipated her doing the same as his eyes found the reception desk across the room. Realization was like a blade though, cutting through his dreams like a hot knife through butter and, just as quickly as his hope came, it vanished in an instant, replaced with a hollow empty gloom.

This was exactly what he had been afraid of and, for all the wrong reasons, Larabee was suddenly sorry he had agreed to come back to the resort. There was a rational cause for him to be here and yet, all of that motivation and incentive escaped him in one brief moment. Chris was ready to turn and leave, but a voice out of nowhere, abruptly stopped him.

"Lordy, lordy... I must be seein' things."

The voice was strangely familiar and Chris couldn’t stop himself from searching out the speaker. A quick look around the room ended when a big smile curved his lips. In that same instant, too, all of those previous misgivings vanished. "Miss Nettie...? Are you still here?"

"Where else would I be, son?" the elderly lady greeted, her arms surrounding her newest guest. "You haven't forgotten... The Majestic is my home. I couldn't live anywhere else."

"No," Chris nodded with a smile, "I remember. Sarah always said you were the Mother she never had."

Hands on her hips, Nettie scowled at the tall blond. "Sarah always said I was the grandmother she never had. You wouldn't be trying to get on my good side now would you, Mr. Larabee?"

Caught in his little white lie, Chris tried to act abashed but there was just no getting anything past Nettie Wells. If Hank had been Patriarch of this resort, then Nettie was certainly the Matriarch... even talking about Sarah seemed to come so naturally.

There were no blood ties between them, but as Hank always said, The Majestic was in your blood... the Wells' blood as much as it was the Connelly's perhaps?

Nettie's parents had raised four children here. She was the only one who had stayed, although they had all come back for visits from time to time. The arrangement suited Ms. Wells just fine. She was easily at home here in the main lodge as she was out in her small cabin off the point. That one had no power most times, but this also suited Nettie amazingly well. She was the toughest old lady Larabee knew and although it was never spoken of, he also knew she took great pride in that fact.

Seeing she could still embarrass him just a little, Nettie grinned, although the smile slowly softened. "How have you been, Chris? It's been a while."

"It has," Larabee nodded as a deep breath found his lungs.

"You here to take Hank up on his offer?" Nettie asked quietly.

Chris couldn't help the quizzical expression. "Does everyone know about that?" he inquired just as softly.

Looking rather nonchalant, Nettie shrugged. "Hank didn't care for secrets, Chris, remember? And besides, someone has to keep The Majestic going. What better choice than the only kin Hank has left? And like it or not, you are kin."

"He sure never acted that way," the blond said gruffly. Looking around, he was suddenly uneasy. "Nettie... It's uncomfortable just being here. I get what Hank was up to, no matter how hard it is to believe, but from what I can tell, The Majestic is in good hands already. I'm told he trusted six men enough to run the place when he wasn't around and enough to... give them equal shares. Maybe it's just best I give them the rest."

Looking Chris straight in the eye, Nettie raised a brow. "Maybe it’s just best you think on it a spell, Chris Larabee. Before you make that final decision.”

Hearing his name pronounced out full made the hairs on Larabee's neck stand on end. Hank had always addressed him like that. He'd forgotten until now, but before he had a chance to answer, Nettie was talking again.

"The Connelly is all yours now, Chris, but... until you’re ready, I’ve fixed you a single upstairs.”

Following Nettie’s gesturing arm, Larabee nodded his concurrence. She was assuming a lot about his intentions to stay, but he wasn't ready to disappoint her just yet...

The smaller lodge Ms. Wells was referring to was the original homestead built by the Connelly ancestors back in the late eighteen hundreds. When they'd first established the resort in the early twenties, it had been converted to accommodate guests. However, once the main lodge was constructed, it was converted back into a home for the year-round residents and bore the name of those first settlers. Sarah had been born there and Hank had spent his final days in its splendor. But... could Chris live there?

“A single will do just fine, Nettie,” Larabee said solemnly, not wanting to give his silent question any further thought.

“Well, good!” came the reply. “Number seven.” She then indicated the big staircase again, “Do you remember the way?”

“I’ll find it,” Chris leaned in to kiss the lady on her cheek. “Thank you!”

Waving her old friend off, Nettie watched Larabee wander to the large staircase and then disappear up the stairs. She sighed, cocking her head. It was good to finally see Chris back here, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the man himself wasn’t exactly reveling in the idea. It occurred to Ms. Wells that she might just have to do something about that in the coming days.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Life at The Majestic was always on the go. Sitting at the large window in his room, Chris had been observing that fact over the past hour or so. It kept his mind busy, wondering and watching. Anything was better than trying to decide if he should unpack or not.

The first thing to catch Larabee’s eye was Sanchez. The bear of a man was hard to miss as he happily wandered up and down the waterfront. He interacted remarkably well for someone who came across so brazen and Chris was left to question if it was just him who found the pilot that way.

Out on the beach a short while later, Josiah greeted a dark-skinned couple and then the visitors who followed them. All but the lady were dressed in bathing attire or wetsuits, and as they boarded the canoes lined up on the sand, Sanchez took great pleasure in pushing them all out into the water. Assuming the one lead man was their guide, Chris watched the group slowly paddle away.

The lady stood with Josiah and waved the group off before eventually parting company. They'd stopped to chat for just a little while and there was an obvious easy manner between them Larabee couldn't help but recognize. He wondered about relationships here, and remembered...

After his companion had returned to the lodge, Sanchez, too, checked the sun's position before heading towards the dock. He climbed aboard his plane, firing up and then backing the aircraft out just a ways before coasting it out and eventually, around the point... to the old tie-down berth if Chris remembered correctly. He'd make a point of checking this fact in the morning.

Finding his eyes still focused on the far-off headland, Larabee then noticed a small group of what looked like cycling enthusiasts. Wishing for a pair of binoculars, he tried to pinpoint the group leader, assuming, for some unknown reason, it was the rider who appeared to be traversing some rather steep terrain with a little more enthusiasm than he thought warranted. He wondered about the identity of the daredevil and was quickly reminded of the waivers that had been in place as of his last visit. Each guest was required to agree to all stipulations.

No one was permitted beyond the visual boundaries of the Resort Lodge - clearly visible white flags posted within sight, on eight sides of the main lodge - without an experienced and knowledgeable escort.

Given the topography, isolation, and varied climate of the resort and its surrounding wilderness, it was a rule few had dared challenge. Common sense for most, but then there were a few...

Still focused on the rider and the gusto he was witnessing, Chris had to wonder about how the waiver applied to this particular enthusiast. Was he guest or guide? Did Larabee really want to know?

When the cycling group disappeared back into the tree line, Chris allowed his eyes to track back towards the lodge, and then continue along the opposite shore. Where the forest turned to the low shrubby of the coastline, his focus settled on the obvious outline of a man on horseback and Chris found himself smiling. Although they had only met briefly, something told him this man would be Vin Tanner and he amused himself with the thought of finding a true homegrown Texas cowboy in the middle of the Canadian wilderness.

That cowboy way was something he had fallen in love with all over again. His roots in Indiana had been a simple life. Sarah had revived that for him, allowing Chris to pass his own love of nature onto Adam. Life with the horses on his farm, with his wife and child... it had been a good life...

Seeing Tanner suddenly jump down from his horse drew Larabee from his musings. He blinked away his momentary sadness and then watched as the Texan led his mount over to a group that had emerged, on foot, from the forest in front of him. At this distance, Chris wasn’t entirely sure, but he could have sworn Vin was having words with the man he had separated from the cluster of people. The expanse between them did little to obscure the rather flamboyant colors of the other man's attire though, and the Texan's words from their earlier meeting, came to mind. Was this the same fancy fella Tanner had been referring to before?

Chris now suspected the offered long story might be longer than he'd first thought, but his queries were lost as a knock at the door prevented him from pondering further...

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

"Mr. Larabee?"

"Yes," Chris returned the happy smile of the young lady at his door. He was fairly good at sizing people up at a glance and guessed her to be somewhere in the late teens early twenties range. She was petite, but looked to be rather athletic. She was certainly dressed as such, her tight-fitting bicycle shorts and layered tank T's accented her figure nicely.

"Hi," she greeted again, this time letting her eyes give the man a quick once-over. Apparently satisfied with the results, she stated her reason for interrupting Larabee's afternoon. "Aunt Nettie sent me to tell you supper would be ready in about a half hour. Vin's arranged for you to meet the rest of the boys."

"Aunt Nettie?" Chris asked curiously. He knew Ms. Wells had an extensive family but was positive none of them resided at The Majestic.

The young lady certainly wasn't shy and looked a little indignant at this man's question. "Yeah, I'm Casey Wells. My Ma and Pa passed on two years back and Aunt Nettie is... was my guardian. I'm old enough to make my own decisions now, but...." Bowing her head for just a moment, her chin came back up and revealed another happy grin. "Well, I kind 'a like it here. The Majestic grows on a person, ya know. Once you've been here a while, you don't want to leave."

"Is that so?" Larabee asked curiously. He could tell by her tone that Casey was far from lying. She was obviously happy and perhaps a little too enthusiastic for his mood. However, before Chris could say anything further, the young lady was talking again.

"Yep!" she announced cheerfully. "You'll see," Casey continued as she turned to leave. "See you later, Mr. Larabee."

Watching her wave and then eagerly bound down the hallway, Chris couldn't help but smile. Despite her youth, it was abundantly clear that Miss Wells had a passion. A passion for life was obvious. A passion for her home was something she seemed to share with others he'd already met. And, once again, Larabee was left to wonder about this place. Could he, too, call it home?

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

"There you are," Nettie smiled as Chris came down the grand staircase a short time later. "Thought perhaps you'd gone a wonderin' and lost your way."

"Unless that's changed around here, too, I thought people weren't supposed to be able to do that."

Cocking her head, Ms. Wells raised a brow. "Too wild out there to change that particular rule, Chris. You know that better than most."

Acknowledging the woman's comment with a slight nod, Larabee then raised a finger to his lips. "That's our little secret though, right?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Nettie laughed as she took Larabee by the arm and walked towards the back of the great hall. As the large expansive wall got lower, it began to break up into smaller archways, and eventually, individual rooms could be seen. "Renovations?" Larabee asked.

"Just a few," Ms. Wells responded. "Ezra's idea on running a business and Vin... Well, that young man is good at a lot of things, but... As he puts it, our 'southern dandy' comes in handy from time to time."

A frown creased Larabee's brow as they came to a halt at a set of double doors. "This is as far as I go," Nettie announced with a tap of the man's arm. "I hope you make the right decision, Chris. The Majestic needs you."

Without another word, Ms. Wells was gone, leaving Larabee to turn and face the large twin doors. He had a pretty good idea what lay on the other side. Whether he was ready to confront it or not, was entirely another matter.

~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~ 7 ~~~~~~~

Four men were seated, busily eating, when Chris entered the dining room. They all looked up, some smiling a greeting while one waved his welcome. A fifth, rather well dressed man was at the bar pouring himself a drink and it was he who chose to speak.

"Well, well, well... This must be the infamous Mr. Larabee. Adventurer extraordinaire, vanquisher of the fair maiden's heart, slayer of great acquaintances, and all around fool."

"A bad day with the guests ain't call enough to be rude, Ezra," the dark-skinned man answered loudly. "You'd best sit and wash your brandy down with some food."

Observing the exchange with a quiet reserve, Vin Tanner finally stood and stepped towards Larabee. His hand, wiped on his napkin, was then offered in greeting, "Welcome, Chris." Momentarily distracted with a glance towards the bar, the Texan then added, "Don't mind Ezra there, he's a little peeved. Ain't often I have call to take a strip off a fella, even if he did have a good reason. They were more than two hours late today though and we don't take that lightly around here."

This 'Ezra' was proving to be an interesting individual from what little Chris could surmise. He was definitely another fellow American though... that or the decidedly southern drawl the man had spoken in was a well-manufactured ruse. Giving credence to the authenticity of the accent wasn't a far stretch though, especially when put along side the immaculate emerald green evening coat the man wore. A ruffle-sleeved shirt and gold pocket watch completed the picture to perfection. "The eh, rescue team you mentioned this afternoon?"

Tanner acknowledged Larabee's question with a slight nod before showing him to the empty chair at his left.

As Chris sat down, so too, did Ezra.

"We serve ourselves around here," the Texan said as he handed Chris an empty plate. A large 'Lazy Susan' at the center of the big table wasn't hard to miss. "The cooks and wait-staff have guests to take care of. That's the way it should be, don't ya think?"

"And if I remember correctly," Larabee offered back, "So few take care of so many."

Vin merely nodded again before going right back to his dinner. It was piled conservatively, although a large helping of mashed potatoes barely concealed the roast beef below.

As he helped himself to a portion of the offerings, Chris made mental notes about the table's occupants. As expected, Vin was enjoying his plate. Josiah, too, was clearly hungry, although he did manage to breathe between bites. The same might not be said for the young man seated beside his older companion.

Hazel eyes sparkled below a mop of black hair as each mouthful came home. Satisfaction was something men were supposed to gain from a meal, but Chris suspected all this young man gained was a full stomach. He didn't leave time for anything else.

Across the table from the young fellow sat Ezra. The contrast between their eating habits was painfully obvious, the southern man wincing each time his younger cohort swallowed down more water from his glass. Ezra had cause to look at the dark man between himself and Larabee, expressing his exasperation with a glare. The look pleaded, and the other man finally spoke.

"I swear, JD, you're gonna give yourself an ulcer. Slow down, boy. I know Miss Nettie packed you a huge lunch. She was complaining all the while."

"As usual," Ezra added, his emerald eyes sparkling with begrudging amusement.

While finishing his mouthful, the young man studied the two men addressing him. Finally, when his mouth was empty, he responded. "Ah, come on guys! We had a really great day on the mountain and I'm hungry."

A voice from the doorway came to the young man's defense. "He's a growin' boy, Nathan. Leave the kid alone."

A fork aimed at Larabee's mouth slowly made its way back to his plate. Larabee's eyes quickly followed. He knew that voice. He recognized the playful love and concern in the tone and instantly acknowledged the bond this man had with the others at the table. He had been a beneficiary of that bond for more years than he could count... and then he had thrown it away. "Buck?"

Wilmington's head was lowered when Larabee turned to face him. Buck had purposely sent his eyes to the floor, both dreading and anticipating this moment, not knowing if he could face his old friend again. The history between them was ripe with friendship and conflict. Any good rapport had both of course. Human beings weren't meant to live their lives in total bliss. And this was Wilmington's strong suit anyway. He could always find reason and rhyme enough to solve every problem in life... almost every problem. "Yeah, Chris... it's me."

Larabee was on his feet by now; his chair pushed back, his path clear to the door. And yet, he was once again frozen in time.

There were so many emotions and memories Chris had both denied and confronted on this short journey. Some he had been prepared for, others he was aware of but never expected to face. Still others were a possibility he would deal with if the time and place came to pass. This however, was completely unexpected.

Never in his wildest imagination had Larabee anticipated the discovery of the man he had been searching for, for so long. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he needed to tell. So many things he had denied.

They shared a long past these two. It was a history filled with great joy and accomplishment, love, success, and happiness, but there was a deep sadness there, too. Great loss did that to a man, and when coupled with regret. "It's... good to see you, Buck."

The honesty in Larabee's voice was something Wilmington was familiar with. The hesitation he'd actually expected. Slowly, he met his old friend's eyes, searching deep into a soul he wasn't sure still existed. What Buck found in an instant, actually made him smile.

There was actually more than a presence reflecting back at him. The hollow shell of the man he had left so long ago was now filled with purpose again. The lust for life wasn't quite back to its previous level, but it was there just the same. Larabee was back, or at least on his way. In time, the rest just might well be forgiven. "I'm surprised to see you, Chris," he said.

The seemingly awkward moment wasn't missed by any of the room's occupants, and Buck quickly corrected that. Clearing his throated, he then added, "But don't let that spoil a good meal. Sit! Eat!" Casually rounding the table, Wilmington took up the empty chair between his young friend and Ezra. The former exchanged a knowing grin and then went right back to eating as Buck had indicated they all should.

Before the remaining occupants of the round table all began to eat again, Wilmington and Tanner shared a brief look, each fully understanding its meaning.

As he sat back down and watched the hesitant resumption of activity, Chris became painfully aware of the fact that all of these men probably knew of the history he and Buck shared. He wondered just how much his oldest friend had communicated. The dismaying thoughts occupied him as the meal continued...

Banter went back and forth over the next half hour and Larabee continued to observe, feeling somewhat of an outsider. They tried to include where possible and although he knew nothing but a few names, he quickly came to realize that each of these men had a special place within the group. Despite their obvious differences, they appeared to work well as a cohesive unit and he could see why Hank had entrusted The Majestic to their care. Where he might fit into all of this though, was still a mystery...

"Join us, Chris?" The question came from Vin who was now standing at the bar.

Plates had been cleared or piled and most of the food at the table had been eaten. A mug of beer in his hand, Josiah was already seated over by the fireplace. Ezra was there, too, his brandy refilled and in use. The young man, JD, was behind the bar serving Nathan what looked to be soda water. He then poured three beers for himself, Buck and Vin.

Chris stood, pushing his chair in at the table. One last glance around and then he was wandering to the bar. Once there, he looked into Buck's eyes before focusing on Vin. "Don't mind if I do," he smiled.

"What's your poison?"

Before Larabee could answer, Wilmington asked a question. "You... still drinkin', Chris?"

The momentary silence once again confirmed for Chris that Buck had related at least some details of their past.

Taking a deep breath, Larabee smiled at his old friend and then looked briefly around the room. "Mostly a social drink now and then, Buck," he answered, refocusing on the man. "And this is a social gathering, right?"

"It is," Vin replied, stepping slightly between the two men. Buck had confided in him some. Larabee's bout with alcohol was one such detail. It was information Wilmington had felt important enough to share, especially after Hank had announced his decision. The others had been told a few details, but only Vin and Buck had discussed it openly. Vin understood instinctively there wa