The Real Chris Larabee
"Mr Larabee, might I assume that you have come to take me with you?"
To the ends of the Earth, Ezra... if I only could.
He looks lonely and sad in that cell, tossing cards into his hat. Some might say, he's just bored. Personally, I think it's more than boredom, 'cause I know how I would feel bein' locked up.
But I can't tell him that I understand his misery. It wouldn't be a very Larabee thing to say. Instead, I tell him that I can't let him go.
"May I ask why?" He keeps tossing cards.
"You broke the law." And to JD's amusement, I add, "You've been a bad boy."
I don't even know what law he broke. And if I hadn't just agreed to help uphold the law in this godforsaken town, I might let him out no matter what. Unfortunately, I did agree.
Ezra looks a little sadder - or a little annoyed. Maybe both. He tries again, because Ezra doesn't give up that easily.
"I know where Lucas went," he informs me.
JD and I stop gathering weaponry for a moment.
It's sweet, how proud he looks. No need to be able to read his mind. Right now, he's way ahead of me and the kid sheriff. Or so he thinks.
I walk closer to the door of his cell. Hope rises in his eyes immediately. I'm feeling a little guilty for stringing him along.
"You do?" I ask.
And he makes me forget once more that I'm the tough one, the one who won't be ruled by emotions. He does it as easily as he strips his unfortunate gaming partners of their money. But that's something that has to remain my secret.
"Yes, Sir," he says, looking up at me like an eager child. So expectant, so hopeful. Hopeful that I will release him.
I'm fighting my inner demons. The need to ignore the plea in his soft voice, the even bigger need to ignore the warm glow the afternoon sun bathes him in through the jail's window...
I'm not sure when exactly I fell so hopelessly for Ezra Standish. If I were honest to myself, I'd have to say it happened that first day at the Saloon, when he single-handedly controlled every angry, cheated man in that room. They were all out for revenge; people don't like bein' robbed of their money. But he kept every one of them at bay with his tiny Derringer, his immaculate politeness and his determination not to let his calm facade crack. I admired that. And I admired the trace of fear in his eyes. I don't admire cheating.
There's one thing I can never let Ezra know - actually, two things. One is that I would forgive him anything, no matter what he'd do and no matter how wrong he may be. And the other thing? I love him, more than I've ever wanted to love anyone again after losing Sarah and Adam. And I certainly didn't intend to fall in love with a cheat, a gambler and a man on whom, for all I know, I cannot rely.
"So do we," I tell him, smiling. His jaw drops. He thought he had priviledged information, but I put him in his place. Not because I enjoy doing it, but it's my way of keeping the upper hand in our battle for cool detachment. Whatever I do, I can't let him know I'm in the palm of his hand.
I really wish he wasn't standing so close to those bars, looking up at me, pleading with those big, beautiful eyes of his. Damn, I swear I can see myself in them. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's doing it on purpose, knowing what he does to me. But he's not that self-assured. I can actually see his hopes of getting out of his cell fade away when I don't get closer.
"Well great!" he says, only temporarily discouraged. "But he likes me."
I know I'm looking at him the wrong way now. I know my eyes are too soft and I shouldn't be smiling either. But he melts my heart when he talks like that - a stubborn little boy. Of course Lucas likes him. He'd be a fool not to.
I find myself envying that man for having been able to spend the better part of a day, not to mention a night, in the cell next to Ezra's. Damn, he's actually makin' me wanna get arrested so I can sit by his side, watching him while he's not aware of it, listenin' to his breathing while he's asleep, dreamin' of him and finding him closeby on waking up.
Don't think that way, Chris, I tell myself, for all the good it does me. There's nothing I can do about the fact that waking up by Ezra's side is what I want more than anything. Sadly, it's the last thing that'll ever happen.
He proceeds to tell me that he can just imagine me getting shot walking in on Lucas and his friends. And I note with pleasure, he looks upset about that. It's clear that he, on the other hand, could easily approach Lucas safely, without raising suspicions. One criminal to another, basically.
You're not a criminal, Ezra! I don't know what you did, but it was certainly nothing like Lucas' crime - shooting an unarmed man. Twice. No, I dare say you cheated someone at cards. Nothin' more sinister than that. And I find to my own shock that even if it were, it wouldn't matter to me. Thoughts like that scare me and when I get scared, I say stupid, regrettable things.
"You ran out on me once before. You wouldn't be thinkin' about doing that again, would you?"
No matter how briefly the look of hurt remained on his face, it was definitely there. I know I'm not the most sensitive of all people, but hurtin' the one I love makes me hate myself.
But he deals with it admirably. "I swear on the grave of my dear, sainted mother," he says. His solemn, soft voice doesn't quite fool me.
And promptly, JD proves him a liar. "You told me your mother was still alive."
I turn towards him briefly, about to tell him off for being so pedantic, but I get a hold of myself just in time. Can't slip now. Can't tell the kid why I'd believe whatever Ezra says, simply because I want to. Need to.
"Figure of speech..." he says.
"Figure you're dead if you're lyin'." I don't mean that, of course. I throw him the keys, allowing him to let himself out.
Now he's like a kid again. His eyes light up and he smiles, eagerly working on getting the enormous key turned.
I wish I could take it back from him, because now it comes to me that takin' him with me, I'll be putting his life in danger. All of our lives are, of course, but his is the most valuable to me.
I'm hiding it well at least, ain't I? On the outside, there's Chris Larabee. On the inside, there's me. And the two of us aren't very much alike.
He's finally freed himself, and he's beaming from ear to ear. I meet his emerald gaze.
Free? Not somethin' I'd ever wanna be again.
END