Breathe, and Let Heal by AJ

Part One. A Typical Day

Breathe . . . breathe . . . deep breaths...

It was just the dream, just the same dream he had always had, nothing new about it, just as familiar as his buckskin coat . . . if only it could be as comfortable to wear.

It was only four thirty and the sun had yet to make an appearance over the town of Four Corners, leaving the air still chilled and the ground damp. Most people cherished this time of the morning, snuggled in their beds, resting in preparation for another hot, dusty day ahead. As the sun rose into the sky the heat was drawn up along with it, basking the dry, barren earth and all who dared to live amongst it in a dry heat, of which there was little respite.

From the inside of his sturdy wagon in the street however, Vin Tanner knew he wasn't getting any more sleep this day as he sat up and leant forward, running his fingers through his sweat dampened hair, taking one more deep, calming breath and letting it out slowly as he tried to shake the last remnants of sleep from his mind . . . and the memory of his dream. With no conscious thought, his hand traced a lazy, repetitive pattern over the back of his head, over the scar that ran in a thin line across his scalp. It was as if he could still feel the pain that the wound, so old now, had brought him. His hand ran lower, to the soft skin at the back of his neck where he found a thicker scar, a jagged, hidden slash across his flesh that served to remind him every day of what could happen if you let your guard down, what man was capable of.

The dream had been longer this time, he thought, although he realised he had no way of really knowing that, but there seemed to be more to it, something extra. Deciding he didn't care, pissed off as hell that it was still plaguing his nights, he eyed his clean blue shirt in the light of the half moon and pulled it on over his damp skin. He shuffled out with a practiced ease, his actions routine, holstering his mares leg and shoving his hat onto his head before scuffling to sit off the back of the wagon to tug on his boots, his eyes already taking in the street though the darkness, his ears listening for any change in the familiar sounds of the town. It was still cool so he tugged on his coat and headed for the livery, wanting to take a ride and clear his head before he faced the day in town, needing the peace and solitude that it would bring him.

The street was so quiet and it was all his own as he walked up the even deeper shadows by the buildings that lined it. The stable was empty, even Yosemite had not gotten a start this early. Peso snorted as Vin entered the wooden door silently, sensing his friend before he saw him. Vin smiled at the flash of white through the darkness, sensing his old friend's excitement at getting out so early into the cool of the day.

"You're a mite anxious to get away hmm? You an' me both, Pard." He said gently, working quickly and deftly to saddle him as he talked in his soft, Texan drawl.

Some days he rode out of town, other days he would climb up on top of the store roof and sit cross-legged, welcoming the new day. For as long as he could remember, he had worshiped the sunrise. It brought him peace, it cleansed his soul. The Indians he had lived with had believed that a man should always rise ahead of the dawn, so that the sun did not find a lazy man. For Vin Tanner that was never a problem, he rose each morning in anticipation of the new day. This day he headed for one of his favourite spots, contemplating a cool, quick swim before the day heated up.

By the time the sun had begun its steady climb, he was already drying off naturally, sitting cross-legged on a flat rock on the short bank of the river, refreshed after a brief swim in the secluded spot he had found a short while after he'd first arrived in town. His gun was within easy reach of his hand as he let the soothing rays kiss the last of the moisture from his skin. A man with a price on his head couldn't be too careful and Vin was never one to let his guard down completely. The last time he'd done that, he'd nearly ended up hanging from a rope outside of town.

The heavy dew had left the ground moist but it was drying quickly. The small, narrow stretch of river bended lazily and flowed down a natural series of steps to a small pool below, before moving along on its winding journey south. Pulling on his pants, which gripped his still moist skin and tugging on his boots once more, he eyed the gently frothing water at the bottom of the rocks as it swelled, gathering in size before joining with more patches of white, becoming one. He watched as the whiteness separated, pushed out by the flowing pressure down the rocks, dispersing and blending into the clear, glassy surface of the river.

Vin thought about that foam, how it marked the forceful entry of the water as it gushed downwards, making noise and catching the light in its pure whiteness, before giving in and breaking apart, blending with the rest of the clear water seamlessly, so that one never could follow its path, see the point where it actually disappeared.

It was too easy for him to make the analogy with himself. That's what he was trying to do, wasn't it? Blend amongst the town, the people? How long could he go on pretending he belonged there before someone picked up his trail again, saw the stream of white behind him as he tried fruitlessly to disappear?

Eli Joe was dead, that much was fact, he wouldn't be gunning for him any more, but there were plenty around who still would. He pulled on his shirt, leaving it open while he gathered up his things and grabbed Peso's rein. He took time to admire the play of light on the water for one last lingering moment, doing up his buttons slowly, staring into the light, before turning and swinging an easy leg over Peso and heading back to town. He let his horse find it's rhythm, in no hurry to get back and wanting to hold onto the feeling of peace that he now had, his dream forgotten for the time being.

He left his hat hanging down his back and felt his damp hair soaking into the back of his shirt but knew both would be dry long before he reached the town. He stuck to the high ground for some time, looking down over the track that led to town. After some distance he noticed a puff of dust on the horizon and realised that it must be the coach that was due in that morning, running early. In a burst of sudden spirit, he nudged Peso with his heels and was answered with a strong bound forward that quickly turned into a gallop as he tore along the rocky ground, gradually heading down to the flat plain below until he came up not far behind the slow moving, fancy wagon and slowed right off, not wanting to alarm the passengers as they entered the town's main street.

Chris Larabee crossed the street and headed to the saloon. It was still early but he had been unable to sleep any longer. He felt unsettled, sensing something was off balance, just not sure what it was. He stepped up to the wooden porch, his spurs jingling in the morning quiet before he went inside and grabbed a much-needed coffee. It had been a late night and he could still feel the last cobwebs of sleep brushing away in his head as he went out once more to the brightening sunlight and took his usual seat on the porch. He'd just lit a cheroot when he saw Buck and JD ambling toward him a minute later and knew his momentary peace was over.

"Coach is comin' in," JD announced, having seen the dust rising in the distance.

"S'early," Chris observed.

"Probably wanted to avoid travelling in the heat," Buck said.

Chris didn't say anything but knew that there was a family travelling on the coach and wasn't impressed that someone would risk travelling at night through territory like that to avoid heat.

"Well good morning my dear friend's."

Chris didn't have to turn to recognise the southerner's drawl.

"A profitable night, Ezra?" Buck asked, eying the slightly rumpled red jacket and dishevelled hair the gambler was sporting.

"Very, Mr Wilmington . . . now if you don't mind, I will leave you all to enjoy this most pleasant day." He began to stride off as the coach made its appearance at the entrance of the street, pausing mid step.

"Well well . . . " he stopped, eyeing the fine craftsmanship of the vehicle, "perhaps it would be rude of me to take my leave without welcoming our new guests."

Chris's lips pursed at that, he had counted the seconds before Ezra stopped, knowing that he would as the coach came into view.

"It's ok, Ezra, I got the welcoming covered."

"Mr Dunne, I am sure you will do so with great enthusiasm, however it never hurts to show the towns more refined aspects to those that choose to dwell here for a time."

As the coach drew closer they saw the driver pulling on the reins to stop the horses' slow progression as the wake of fine dust it had created caught up and showered it heavily. The sun caught the orange cloud, unable to filter through it, causing the occupants to remain inside a moment longer until it became bearable.

As the cloud settled, a door opened slowly, its occupants as yet undisclosed, when from down the street there was the sound of a rider approaching.

Scanning the street, Chris recognised the rider instantly. He felt better at seeing him jostling atop Peso, the horse never a willing partner in slowing his pace. It's most awesome gait was a flat out run and Chris's lips pursed again at that thought, thinking the horse was just like his owner, both could be deceptively passive when they wanted to and neither wanted to be told when they should rein in. On the outside Vin was usually the picture of calm and patience, his easy manner fooling many unsuspecting men, but Chris knew better. Inside, his friend was always alert and often warring with himself, knowing he could not rest until he cleared his name.

Chris was sorry that he had shot and killed Vin's one real hope of doing that, but did not regret it. He'd do it again if he had to, to keep Vin alive. They had never discussed their friendship or tried to define it in any way, they just knew and accepted that theirs was a meeting of the soul, as natural as night and day. As much as Vin cherished the sunlight, Chris Larabee was at peace under the nights blanketing darkness. There he found the solitude he often craved and was free to hold close his memories and long destroyed dreams. He would never let them go, he needed to remember. Whenever he found them fading, he would reignite them again, drag the pain and suffering to just beneath the surface and let them burn once again, lest he not forget.

Vin's quest to clear his name had become Chris's from the second their eyes had locked across the dusty street. The bond was instant and forged into something that went beyond the earth, beyond blood. They had circled each other in that instant, not needing to draw any conclusions, just knowing that they had crossed paths with a purpose, feeling as if they were always destined to do so.

Whatever the uneasy feeling Chris had had earlier, Vin was alive and well. He saw him drawing slowly along side the carriage as the dust finally lifted. He met Vin's eyes and slightly raised chin with a nod of his own, just as the carriage door opened wider.

Everything Ok? Vin heard the silent question as he met Larabee's eyes and pulled his horse to a stop by the carriage. He turned to face the wagon, still in his saddle as he answered.

Fine, you?

Peachy.

Vin's head turned back sharply to catch Chris's short grin of self- amusement and felt his own lip quirk in response to a word he could not imagine Chris Larabee ever saying out loud.

Buck and JD exchanged a glance as they noticed the silent exchange, getting used to the byplay between the men, but still in awe of it. Ezra was too busy prissing himself up for the passengers as he waited for them to disembark.

As Vin turned back to the opening door, he saw with shock the barrel of a gun, aimed right at him from within. It was clearly visible despite the shadowed interior, as was the flash of an outlined face behind it, yet he had no time to react. At the same moment his eye's registered what they saw, the weapon fired and he felt himself fly backwards from his horse.

The single gunshot that blasted from the open doorway had them all on their feet, weapons drawn and aimed at the door even as they saw Vin fall sideways, unable to hold his seat as his body was sent hurtling to the hard ground.

Chris was three steps into the street before Vin hit the ground, his weapon pointed at the door, one eye looking for a sign of life from Vin. "Stand down!" he shouted to the gunman inside, taking another step closer to Vin, standing over his body in an unmistakably protective stance.

He held his weapon straight and sure, his jaw clenched tight as he tried not to think of the deathly still form of the closest friend he had ever had, ever would have again, lying bleeding into the dirt behind him, shot down right before his eyes.

He had not hesitated to enter the street and make himself a target. He didn't question it, he just valued this man's life more than his own. If the gunman aimed to kill Vin where he lay in the street, he'd have to go through him first to get another shot. Chris Larabee wasn't afraid to die, that's part of what set him aside from other men.

Buck, JD and Ezra all flanked their leader and Josiah and Nathan were both running from down the street, having heard the gunshot amongst the early waking noises of the town. JD tugged Peso out of the way with difficulty, the horse having never left Vin's still form, his head down low to the ground, his eyes wary.

Vin was struggling to stay conscious, trying to remember how he'd ended up on the ground, lying in the dirt, unable to get up for the life of him and unable to focus on anything clearly. He'd heard the shout and registered the voice as belonging to Chris and fought to get his legs under himself.

"Vin stay down!" Chris said, not looking away from the carriage door. He could sense Vin's movements behind him and heard his low growl of pain, worried but relieved that he was alive. To the still darkened doorway he yelled again, "I said stand down, NOW!"

The door opened a fraction more and as Josiah and Nathan joined them, Nathan immediately dropped to Vin's side, knowing the men had him covered. The five remaining sets of eyes all stared at the opening door without so much as a blink, their fingers poised over their triggers, ready for whatever fiend came out shooting. He was trapped, he had to know it and they prepared for him to resist their united front.

Vin slapped Nathan's hand away and used him to drag himself up. It was silent, too silent, there was danger still surrounding them. He'd heard Chris shout and nothing was stopping him from watching his back if he could. Nathan tried to stop him, seeing the blood that streamed down the side of his face and the pain that shone in the dazed blue eyes, but Vin was having none of it. By the time he got to his feet he was swaying and sweat mingled with the short, but deep gash on the side of his head, his gun pointing at the doorway with deadly intent. He could hardly make out the shape of the carriage, let alone shoot anything clearly, but he was up.

Finally the door pushed all the way open and a boot, polished to perfection, took the first step down. As they all watched in silence, guns held steady in unwavering grips, the matching boot joined the first and a figure jumped down from the carriage.

In mute shock they stared at the small boy that now faced them, his eyes riveted to the ground, a gun held awkwardly in his tiny hand.

"Oh my God," JD said softly, lowering his weapon as Buck nudged him with his elbow to keep his guard up and he immediately lifted his gun again, feeling ridiculous as he held it on a small child until he realised everyone was aiming at the carriage still, not the boy and changed his own aim.

"Sweet Jesus," was Ezra's remark.

Chris took a step forward, his face devoid of any sign of emotion as he reached out and took the still smoking gun from the young child, but he was shaken. This boy was no older than Adam had been and bore a striking resemblance. He stepped back and called to the other passengers.

"Everyone come out of there, now!"

They all eyed the doorway as a man filled the frame, crouching as he squinted out into the sunlight from the dark interior.

"Step down," Buck said.

The well dressed man gently eased himself out, then turned and helped a plainly dressed young lady out, letting her go as she found her feet.

"Anyone else?" Chris called, "have a look, Ezra."

Ezra stepped forward and peered inside. "That is all."

The coachman stepped down and watched on, having not said a word.

"What the hell happened in there?" Buck questioned, noticing the town's people starting to gather around like vultures.

"Please, you cannot hold a small boy accountable, he did not think it was loaded . . . " the man began.

"Oh can't I? Who put that loaded gun in his hand?" came the dangerously low voice of Chris Larabee.

"He grabbed it from my lap, I had it out for protection, he . . . he thought it was an Indian, he got scared," the timid man finished.

"An Indian?!" Buck yelled, then calmed himself and looked at the boy, who had not uttered a word. He was pale, sickly looking, with huge blue eyes that looked familiar to him as he watched them turn downward, avoiding looking at anyone directly.

Chris saw Vin wavering dangerously behind him and called over his shoulder, "Nathan, Josiah, get Vin to the clinic before he falls down." He took a step towards the boy and knelt in front of him, speaking in a soft voice, yet one that requested the truth. "Is that what happened, son?"

The boy looked up then, taught to answer all questions obediently. He looked quickly at his father who had taken a small step towards him and then back at the man with the cool green eyes. Something about those eyes nearly had him giving a different answer, but he just nodded, a small nod that was his only response before he again lowered his eyes to the dusty ground.

Chris took the boys hand and studied it a moment, held it up close to his face gently before he looked up to the tall man in the dark, foreboding suit and narrowed his eyes. "Take them to the jail, boys, we'll sort it out there."

Abruptly he stood and the boy's father protested. "You cannot mean to . . . my family! This is an outrage! I will not -"

Chris didn't move, it was just a narrowing of his eyes as he faced the taller man, but it was enough to cut the protest short. "Kid didn't shoot that gun," was all he said.

Jacob Waverly stopped cold at the look coming from the gunslinger. It was the first trickle of fear he had felt in a long time. The cold, cold eyes that were cutting into him seemed to tear into his heart and find it unworthy.

Chris turned to Buck who nodded that he would see to them, then turned to see Vin still on his feet, flanked by Josiah and Nathan whom he had obviously refused to let guide him away. His face was deathly pale against the blood that coated the left side, running from his temple down over his cheek to soak into the collar of his blue shirt.

"Tanner, you – " his admonishment was cut short as Vin's knees suddenly buckled and his head dropped forward, heading toward the ground. Chris stepped forward quickly even as Josiah and Nathan both grabbed the wounded man between them, having been ready for him to collapse at any second.

Chris stopped for a second, there was so much blood there. He knew how bad head wounds could bleed and that a lot of them were all show, but he also knew how dangerous they could be. Just a fraction of an inch over and Vin would be dead already. He avoided looking at the man again, knowing that the outcome of Vin's injuries would determine how he dealt with him later.

He moved forward and took Nathan's place, supporting Vin's dead weight. "You go get things in order, Nathan, I got him."

As they left, Buck took one last look at the sight of Vin being carried away unconscious, saw the blood on the ground where he had been gunned down in cold blood and then turned back to the man. He was lying, he was sure of it. Chris knew it too, that was obvious. A kid could never have fired a gun like that and stayed standing, that was the first problem with the lie. He kept his gun aimed at the man as he indicated him to move. The young woman, most likely his wife, followed meekly behind, the boy walking behind them, his face still held to the ground.

Part 2. A Father's Son?

Josiah took Vin easily and carried him up the steps to Nathan's clinic. Nathan was already inside and instructed him to lay him down on the bed.

"What the hell just happened out there?" Nathan asked as he moved forward to examine the wound carefully.

"Don't know, but I aim to find out," Chris said, leaning on the windowsill and watching Nathan work from across the room. Vin had yet to move and until he did, he wasn't moving either. The bastard who'd fired his gun and tried to hide behind a small child could wait, for now.

Vin moaned softly as Nathan started to try and stop the flow of blood from the wound. From what he could see, it had gone only so deep as to cut through flesh, but its location was bad and Vin had yet to wake up since he'd passed out, worrying signs to the healer.

Josiah grabbed a basin of clean water and fresh bandages and placed them beside Nathan, just as Vin gave another low moan of pain.

He could feel the hands touching his head, probing, prodding, inflicting pain. Not again, please no, not again. This time the dream was real.. this time he was really there.

Josiah reacted quickly as Vin jolted on the bed, half sitting and staring at them with wild eyes, eyeing the door like a trapped animal.

"Vin, it's us, relax now. You're in Nathan's clinic, relax now, we've got ya," Nathan said soothingly, trying to calm the wounded man as he pushed him back down.

Vin blinked, turning his eyes to the voice, trying to get a hold of his rapid breathing and heart. He'd thought . . . oh God . . . he closed his eyes again, swept up in a nauseating wave of dizziness as he tried to quell the urge to be sick.

"Here, Josiah, hold him," Nathan said, turning to grab a basin and returning to place it on the bed beside Vin, seeing that he was close to needing it. "It's not unusual for a man to be sick with a wound like that," he said, moving around and waiting until Vin looked at him again, checking his pupils and studying his face closely.

Vin blinked, closing his eyes again for a moment, feeling darkness pushing into his mind, trying to keep it at bay, to hold it back from taking him over again, but he drifted again and instantly the caring hands became hurtful and he tried to turn his head away. His conscious and unconscious minds were at war, overlapping each other and he was finding it harder and harder to distinguish between the two, what was real and what was not. The problem was, his nightmares were real, had really happened to him, he wasn't dreaming, he was reliving. The slicing pain in his head was not unfamiliar to him, he'd had pain like this before, so long ago now . . .

"No, lemme go," he mumbled as his eyes flew open and his body startled before settling again tiredly against the soft mattress. He'd spoken that aloud, he could tell by the looks on their faces. Quickly he closed his eyes.

"Vin," Chris said, moving in to take Josiah's place, seeing with distress how confused and disoriented Vin was. His eyes had showed pain the brief time they had been open as he'd sat up, but he had also seen fear, something he had yet to see in them. Vin wasn't afraid of anyone in the living that Chris was aware of, he sensed this was something deeper, something that Vin kept closely to himself. "Rest now, you're OK," he told him, placing a hand on his chest to keep him down while Nathan tried to clean the wound.

"Chris . . . ?"

"Yeah Vin, it's me . . . take it easy now, let Nathan clean you up."

"Is he dead?"

Chris frowned a little and watched Vin's eye's open again, looking at him through the sweat that had started to run into them as he saw Nathan pour carbolic onto a clean dressing.

"Who, Vin? He's in the jail." Confused, he thought about that, "Did you recognise him, Vin? Do you know him?"

Any reply Vin had was cut off as Nathan held the soaked dressing to the open wound and cleaned it out, causing Vin to growl in pain and fight Chris's hold on him. He managed to sit up, defying the strong hand on his chest and pushed Nathan away.

"Jesus!" he said harshly, breathing deep, looking at Nathan accusingly, his mind clear for the moment.

Nathan smiled a little despite Vin's scowl, "You want it to get infected?" He turned to Chris, "Help me get his shirt off, get all that blood cleaned up."

As Chris reached forward he was shocked by the low growl that tore from Vin. "No."

Chris paused and looked at the warning in the still dazed blue eyes. "What?" he asked softly.

Vin tried to get up, fought the hands that held him and then felt an overwhelming crush of nausea again and half coughed, half spat as Nathan deftly held the basin underneath him. Nothing came out but a small amount of water, Vin had not eaten since the night before, had been going to eat when the carriage had pulled in.

Chris held his hair back and watched in concern, so many questions forming in his mind. A man was entitled to his secrets, but Vin had to know he wasn't alone to face problems as real as bullets flying at his head.

"Just breath deep there Vin, it'll pass," Nathan said, rubbing Vin's back gently as he listened to the harsh breaths and heard Vin swallowing again, trying to get a hold of his rebelling stomach. It was a horrible feeling, he knew, one he didn't envy any man. He finished cleaning the wound as Vin sat forward panting and then bandaged it lightly to keep it clean and stop the blood that continued to seep.

Picked up by another bout of sickness, Vin's chest heaved again and he coughed weakly, groaning slightly as he felt fresh sweat break out on his skin. The pain in his head was intensifying, if anything and he squeezed his eyes shut, finding no respite.

Chris was just about to offer Vin more words of comfort when he noticed something beneath the fingers he held to Vin's neck and held his breath. Almost imperceptibly he moved his hand a little, allowing him a better look. What he saw had his blood turning cold.

Nathan looked from Chris's face, filled with a quiet rage, to the back of Vin's exposed neck as his head bent forward, totally preoccupied with fighting his rising sickness, then back up at Chris again.

The scar was long and jagged, raised higher in some places along its length, thinner and more shallow in others, as if the skin had been savagely torn. It was an old scar... and it ran right across the back of Vin's neck, in a place no-one might ever see it, especially through his long hair.. and the fact that he never took his shirt off around anyone. How many more scars did he have like this?

"Lemme go," came the raw voice again and Josiah passed a cup of water to the pale Texan, having also seen what his friends had. Vin's hand shook as he tried to hold the cup and Chris helped him hold it as he rinsed his mouth and spat out the bitter taste into the basin, then took a cool gulp of the refreshing liquid before indicating he was done as he closed his eyes.

They laid him back and he kept his eyes closed as the three men all looked on in concern.

"He needs to be watched, wound like that can set a man to bein' unsteady for a good long while an' he's lost some blood there."

Vin made to move again in protest when Chris shoved him backwards again and he felt his world spin once more.

Chris nodded, "He'll stay here."

Vin kept his eyes closed, his energy gone and it was only a moment later that they heard his breathing even out and knew he was asleep.

"He gonna be ok, Nathan?" Chris asked, standing and watching the healers face for the truth.

Nathan nodded, "Should be, long as he rests up now. I'll need to wake him every so often and check his responses."

The three men exchanged glances, all knowing they would keep what they saw to themselves. If Vin wanted to talk about it, he would, it was his business.

"I'm going down to the jail, watch him, Nathan," Chris said, taking one last look at the pale face on the bed, seeing again the ragged scar on his neck in his mind's eye and turning abruptly for the door.

Nathan didn't say anything, Chris hadn't needed to say anything to him, but he understood his concern for Vin had prompted him to. "I will."

As Chris crossed the street he was stopped by Ezra. "Mr Larabee, might I suggest a detour on your way to interrogate the prisoner?"

Chris stopped and gave Ezra an impatient look.

"The coach driver is in the saloon, he has some interesting remarks to make about the family ensconced in our delightful prison."

Chris nodded and changed direction for the saloon.

A short time later he entered the jail and to those inside, the ominous mood became even blacker with his arrival, as if he brought with him the dark clouds of doom. JD would have sworn the room actually got darker. He was still in awe of Chris Larabee, every time he was in the same space as him, he got a little nervous.

Larabee walked to the cell door and stared at the man within. "Take the woman and child over to get something to eat, JD. Ezra you go with him."

The thin man in the cell protested, "Now wait a minute, they are not - "

"What I wanna do to you ain't fit for the eye's of women and children," Chris said softly.

JD led the unprotesting woman towards the door, the son following behind. As far as they had seen, neither parent had yet to make any physical contact with the boy.

Buck and Chris faced off with the prisoner, leaving the door open to the cell. Instead of bringing the man comfort, it served to make him feel unprotected, just as they had planned.

"Tell me again what happened back there," Chris said.

"I told you, -"

"The truth," came the quiet demand.

Jacob swallowed but stayed his course. "My son . . . "

Chris walked into the cell with purpose and Jacob backed into the bars behind him, correctly assessing that this was not a man who would yell and demand answers from him, his was a style much more terrifying. Shakily he spoke into the hard face.

"Worse men than you have bullied me."

"I doubt it," was the quick response. Chris turned to Buck, "What do you think, Buck?"

"I think he ain't seen a real bully til today," he turned to the man, "Sure don't envy you, mister."

"I told you . . . "

Chris took another step closer until his face was mere inches from the man's. "Kid that size would have ended up through the other side of the coach firin' a gun like that. There was no gunpowder on his hand, no mark from holding it when it fired. Bet there was gunpowder on your hand though . . . "

The man unconsciously clenched his hand tellingly as Chris continued.

"Coach driver says you got a bit of a reputation . . . says you like to beat women and children . . . "

The man blanched a little and then looked outraged. "Man's got a right to treat his family how he wants! No-one knows what goes on with a family unless they're a part of it!"

Chris stared at him a moment, thoughtful, then looked at Buck. "This guy remind you of someone, Buck?" he frowned, as if trying to remember. "What was that fella's name back in... the guy we found beatin on his wife and kids..?"

"Well, lemme think now, Chris . . . seem to recall it was . . . " suddenly he snapped his fingers, "Billy Thompson! That was his name! Yup, poor guy never really walked right again after we finished with him!"

Chris smiled, a cold, cruel smile, "Hard for a man to walk normal when he's missing his third leg . . . "

Jacob was starting to sweat. "I.. I told you, ain't none of your business what me and . . . "

Jacob gasped as Chris flicked out his knife, resting it near the man's groin, "Everything's my business."

The man blanched. "What do you want from me? What do you care if some half-breed gets himself shot down? He was probably about to shoot you anyway, they can't be trusted!"

Chris put more pressure on the blade. "You saying you shot that man down on the street when you arrived?"

The man was silent for a moment until Chris twisted the knife. "No! I didn't shoot him! I told you –"

Chris tried hard to control his rage. He forced himself to take a step back before he did something he regretted. "You shot down a friend of mine in cold blood. I want to know why," he said. He couldn't accept Vin had been shot down because of what he was wearing or that his hair was too long.

Jacob's eyes glazed over as he remembered the ride in. The carriage was slowing down as they reached the end of the street. His wife was looking out the window at something behind them.

"What are you looking at?" he'd asked her. She had sat straight back, not answering, looking dead ahead at the opposite seat in the carriage.

As they had stopped he had heard the horse pull in and as the dust had settled, he'd turned to see the man ride in, not seeing anything beyond the long hair and light pants, a buckskin jacket tied behind him. Slowly he had opened the door and his wife had grabbed his arm. He'd shoved her back and taken aim.

"You're lust for half-breeds will end now," he'd said, opening the door further.

"They are still better in bed than you ever were," she'd said with a snarl.

He had paled at her vulgarity but smiled at her one more time, hating her, hating how she flaunted it at him, the affairs she had had behind his back. Still, he wanted her, would not let her leave him.. and she hadn't tried to anyway.

As his finger had squeezed over the trigger he had turned to her, waiting for her to stop him, to beg him not to, but she had just smiled in return. In resignment he had lowered his gun to his lap.

Suddenly she had grabbed the weapon from him, aiming it herself out the door . . .

"You chose the wrong man to shoot this day. You won't be seein' your wife an' child for a long while." Chris turned to Buck. "I'll go wire the judge, keep an eye on him."

They locked the door and the man sat dejectedly on the single bed, looking into his hands, not believing where this day had ended up, what it had all come to.

Ezra and JD sat with the woman and child, watching as the boy picked at his meal and the woman ate heartily. Neither had said a word as they had entered the restaurant, ignoring the stares of the curious onlookers that all whispered around them.

"You don't have to protect him, you know," JD finally said, unable to stay quiet a moment longer.

The woman looked up, a sad smile on her face. "You don't know him," she said quietly.

"Ma'am, your husband shot a friend of our's today in cold blood. Protecting him is as good as pulling the trigger yourself," Ezra added. He caught the small look the boy threw his mother before looking down again. "Would you like something else to eat, son? If you don't want that, we can get you something else more to your liking."

The boy looked up at the gentle voice, his eyes so sad and lost that Ezra felt his heart catch. The boy gave a small shake of his head and shoved a large bite of the food into his mouth obediently, causing Ezra to frown all the more. He looked at JD, at a loss.

"Ma'am," JD tried again, "You have to tell us what happened. You don't have to live with a man like that. We want to help you."

Jessica looked up at the young man imploring her to admit her husband was guilty, they were making it all too easy for her. She let the tears come to her then, let them spill silently down her cheeks and took the white handkerchief the southerner offer her quickly.

"He'll kill me.." she sobbed into the fine fabric.

"We won't let that happen," JD vowed.

She put her hands on the table, twisting the cloth between her fingers anxiously, appearing to weigh up her options. "He's a cruel man, he . . . " she put the handkerchief to her face again, overwhelmed.

"It's all right, ma'am, we know how he treats you, the coach driver told us what he knew.. what he saw . . . " Ezra urged her.

She turned her tear-filled gaze to him, then to JD. "I tried to stop him, but he was in a rage. He . . . Oh my God.. he killed that man!"

JD watched her, his heart wrenching for her and the child. Ezra, however was watching the boy who had looked up at his mother at those words. There had been something in that look . . . hate? Ezra was astute in working out people, he had to be in his profession. Something was not quite right, but he could not work out yet what it was.

Chris entered the clinic again and found Vin awake, Nathan rewrapping the soaked bandage around his head. His colour was still light but he looked better and his eyes had lost their dazed look.

"How's the head?"

Vin smiled faintly, "Still there."

Chris smiled in return and took the chair.

"He say anything?" Josiah asked from across the room.

Chris's face darkened, "Not yet, but he will."

Vin looked thoughtful as he lay back, propped up by pillows piled behind him. "He looked familiar, the man he looks like would be long dead by now though . . . " he said softly.

Chris looked at him, knowing Vin would only tell them what he wanted to.

"I'm done here," Nathan said, "Gonna grab some breakfast, I'll get you something too, Vin, doubt you've eaten yet."

"I'll join you, brother, Chris, you want something?"

Chris shook his head no and waited for them to leave before he looked at Vin again, waiting.

Vin sighed, when he spoke his voice was quiet, raw. He kept his sentences short, only sharing the facts as he saw them, his accent slowing his words in a low tone. "Long time ago, I stayed at a farm with a family for a spell. Got into some trouble with the law, they sent me to live out there . . . man called Kalis Waverly ran the place . . . there's a few of us out there, kids the law didn't know what to do with... he took us in, worked us hard, beat on us pretty bad . . . we were like slaves to him..."

Chris's eyes narrowed as he listened. He knew by what Vin wasn't saying how hard this was for him.

"Saw him kill a kid once, shot him down cold when he's too sick to work . . . " his voice trailed off and Chris waited silently.

"We used to try and make a run for it, but he had dogs . . . could never get past `em . . . One time I got sick from a dog bite, was too sick to work. He wanted me to help cut this tree with another kid out back.. I couldn't lift the saw, couldn't hold my end..."

Chris heard the pace of Vin's breathing pick up, knew he was reliving it. Then he was surprised as Vin looked up and met his eyes and the haunted look there stole his breath.

"I didn't want to get the other kid in trouble, I kept tryin' ta hold my end of it.. but I's too sick.. Waverly came out, started yellin'.. finally he comes up and cuffs me one in the back of the head.. I remember goin' down... he pinned me there, I felt . . . " he closed his eyes, "I felt that blade touchin' my skin, I thought... thought he's gonna clear cut my head off." He looked at Chris again, "I ain't ever been so scared, never have been since that day neither."

Chris didn't look away, he knew what that scar was now, knew the bastard had started moving that jagged blade across Vin's neck, not enough to kill him, but enough to scar him for life, inside and out... he couldn't imagine the pain that had brought.

"Waverly had a son, didn't look much like him, he's a little older than me I guess. He was a quiet kid, never said much . . . Used to get it from his old man too, wasn't considered any more important than us I reckon . . . Could be him," he moved his chin to indicate the jail down the street. "Might not be . . . sure looks like the old man though.. I saw his eyes lookin' out at me . . . "

Chris couldn't speak, not yet. What Vin had told him, he knew he'd never told anyone before. If that was Waverly's son down there, he was going to find out. It wasn't hard to imagine a son with a father like that would go bad after so long, no matter that Vin said he was a quiet kid. He needed a focus for his anger after what Vin had told him. God help that sonofabitch, just one excuse was all he needed to send him to his maker.

Part 3 . The Most Trusted Liar

"Chris . . . " Vin said, seeing the anger in his friend's face and in his body language as he stood abruptly and turned to the door. He'd seen the rage simmering clear through the silence.

Chris took another step away from him.

"Larabee." The blond man stopped but did not speak.

"Chris, I'm comin' too."

"You ain't comin', you're -" he turned when he heard Vin's small grunt of pain. He took a step forward as he watched him swing his legs over the side of the bed and rest his head into his hands, his elbows on his knees instantly as he adjusted to the sudden change in elevation. He stopped himself from going to the headstrong, stubborn man who was fighting, he knew, to stop his head from spinning.

"I'm comin' with you, you go I'll be right behind you anyway's," Vin said, head still down, breathing harder than he wanted to.

Chris swore and stated his obvious objection. "You caught a bullet in the head, Vin."

Vin smiled up at him, his face pale, "Ain't many could make that catch an' tell about it."

Chris felt his lips purse in response to Vin's flippant remark. He was telling him to lighten up, he was still alive wasn't he? He took the closing step forward and offered Vin his arm, which the Texan grabbed in response, their forearms locked in time, speaking of their relief that everything was all right after the events of the morning that had rocked their foundation once more. Chris steadied Vin on his feet and then looked around the room.

"You might wanna find one of Nathan's shirts to change into."

Vin looked down at the blood spattering his shirt down one side. "Shoot, was my best one, too."

"You're only clean one, you mean," Chris said, looking around.

"That too."

"This oughta do it." Chris handed Vin a grey shirt, already looking too big for him in his outstretched hand.

Vin looked at it for a moment as if it, too, stirred memories for him. Chris saw the look and turned away, just how many bad memories did Vin have from his past? When would he be able to live through a day and not be reminded of something painful? Probably never, Chris thought, but hopefully through time the good memories would start to outweigh the bad.

Vin sat back down and took off his ruined shirt as Chris spoke, looking out the window. "Nathan's going to skin my hide when he sees us."

Vin grinned then, throwing his shirt on the bed and grabbing up Nathan's. "Know a shortcut'll get us to the jail in no time . . . "

Chris turned at that, laughing as he pictured one of Vin's 'shortcuts' that no doubt meant a climb to the rooftops. "We're stickin' to the low ground on this trip, Cowboy," he said and then his laughter died and his smile fell away. He'd seen the scar across Vin's stomach as plain as day from the light shining through the window straight onto him as he sat there, pulling on the too big shirt.

Vin reached out and grabbed his hat, sticking it on his head gingerly over the bandages, avoiding the green eyes that he could feel following his movements. "Reckon I got me some memories might be best stayin' where they are," he flicked a gaze at Chris then, his eyes cool.

Chris nodded as Vin stood. "Reckon a man's entitled to his memories." God knows he wasn't letting go of his anytime soon. He handed Vin his gun as he walked slowly to the door and together they climbed down the steps, one at a time.

 

As luck had it they missed Nathan and Josiah as they left the clinic and made it to the jailhouse without interruption, Vin still unsteady on his feet but determined, Chris keeping a watchful eye on him as if ready for him to keel over at any second.

Buck looked up from his chair and took his feet off the desk as they entered, getting up and greeting them. "Hey Vin, lookin' lively there, you up already?" he said, a big grin on his face at seeing his friend up and about so soon. He looked pale and a little shaky on his feet, but he was a damn far sight from being dead, which was how he'd looked the last time he'd seen him.

"Jist danced a jig 'cross the street, Bucklin, ya missed it," Vin said, accepting Buck's pat on the arm and turning to the lone occupant of the jail. He knew it was the man from the carriage, he didn't need to ask. "Unlock the door," was his quiet request.

Buck grabbed the keys and unlocked the iron door, swinging the bars open as Vin took a step inside, Chris one step behind him. For a second, Vin just stared at the man sitting on the bed, yet to look up at him. When the dark eyes finally lifted Vin's own eyes froze, in recognition, in horror, in a flood of memories that assaulted him in a flash of pain.

Chris saw Vin waver and was ready to catch him if he fell, he noticed the pallor of his skin again upon looking at the man seated before them.

Jacob eyed the strangely familiar man, he recognised him from that morning, but it went beyond that. He brushed it off, uneasy with the intense stare of the blue eyes looking down at him. He hadn't expected his eyes to be blue and now that he saw him, realised he'd been wrong in thinking him an Indian of any kind.

"Well he ain't dead, guess I'll be gettin' out of here, then," he said, making to stand.

Chris shoved him back down with a hand to his shoulder, hard. "You sit still like a good boy and I won't kill you, just yet."

Jacob looked up, his eyes shadowed in pain, caught in the bad memories that those words brought him. Chris missed it, he was looking at Vin again, but Vin had seen it... and identified with it.

"Yer Kalis Waverly's boy."

The silence was tense as Jacob's eye's flew to Vin's. He began to mouth a strong denial, never wanting to be associated with the monster that his father was, but Vin cut him off. "Ain't judgin' ya by yer pa. Reckon a man's action's are his own."

Jacob closed his mouth, it was as if this man knew him, knew what he was thinking. He realised suddenly, "You were there."

Vin's gaze didn't flinch so much as a twitch. "Yep."

Jacob studied him closer, those eyes, those soulful blue eyes. He remembered him then. Remembered how his father used to try and take the spirit that would dance in those blue eyes away. He remembered the kid that would lift the moods of the other kids, even briefly, with those eyes that could turn mischievous in a blink, never letting himself be crushed by the old man completely, always rising again. His old man knew it too, made an example of that skinny kid that would not submit his will to him. Until that day . . . Out back by the trees . . .

Chris watched the play of emotion on the man's face, saw the recognition, the slightly wistful smile, the clenching of his jaw as his face darkened. "He's dead, now," he heard him say and he flicked his gaze to see Vin's reaction.

Vin was quiet a moment, taking this in, before he nodded once as if putting it to rest. "As he should be." He looked at the man then, "You?" he questioned.

Jacob shook his head, "No. He fell . . . out hunting one day. Got trampled by his horse," he said now without emotion.

Vin looked down a moment, a fitting way for a man like Waverly to die, killed by his own property. In the end, it showed him he could never control God's creatures, he was just a man despite how hard he had tried to be more.

Buck was perplexed, he'd watched in frustration as the strange conversation went on. What the hell was going on here, they knew each other?! Finally he caught Chris's eye and Chris shook his head ever so slightly at him, telling him not to interrupt.

"Ya fire that shot this mornin'?" Vin asked finally.

"No."

Vin stared into the man's eyes as they looked straight back at him. He saw truth there.

Chris spoke up then, "You're boy didn't do it, you sayin' it was your wife?"

Jacob thought about this . . . and realisation finally hit him. It was him or her. One of them was going down for this. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, putting an arm over them to block them out. "I've said all I'm going to say, I'll wait for the Judge to arrive."

Vin looked at Chris and they left the cell, he wasn't going to say anything else.

"Watch him," Chris said to Buck again as he once more locked the door.

Buck was frustrated, calling to their backs as they headed to the door. "Watch him! What the...? Who did . . . ? Chris! Vin! Dammit!" he slapped his hand on his leg in frustration, scowled at the apparently snoozing prisoner and took his seat once more. JD and Ezra got to entertain the lady over breakfast while he got to play jail keeper, where was the justice in that!? "Kid wants to be sheriff so bad, HE should be in here!" he muttered to himself. He began to pick the words he would say to the kid when he saw him next, preparing to take his frustrations out on him as soon as he did.

 

"He didn't do it."

Chris gave Vin a sideways look as they headed across the street. "You know that for a fact?"

"No," Vin said slowly, "but I know people, Chris... he weren't lyin'."

"What the HELL are you doing?! Damn fool cowboys runnin' all over town . . . Head wounds don't matter when your head's filled with rocks . . . don't care about people workin' hard ta patch their fool hides up . . . "

Chris's lips smirked at Vin at the sound of Nathan's tirade heading their way from up the street.

"He just call you a cowboy?" Vin asked him, grinning slightly and looking sideways back at Larabee, one eyebrow slightly raised in question.

"Not 'less I got a head wound I don't know about."

Vin listened to Nathan rambling as he approached and said lazily, "Maybe Nathan's got a head wound we don't know about." He winced at the flow of steady words coming from the riled man.

"Maybe," Chris said, smiling.

As Nathan got closer he walked up to them, still mumbling. "What the hell are you doing up, Tanner? I gotta chain you to that room to keep you from killin' yourself?"

"Got one more stop ta make, Nathan, then'm all yours."

"There won't be anything left to patch up when you come back dead!"

Vin grinned at that, he couldn't help it. He couldn't remember the last time anyone fussed over him like this. It felt good, but it wasn't about to stop him from doing what he had to. "Then you can let JD fill my coffin with this head fulla rocks I got," he said, referring to the last time JD was in charge of filling a casket.

"You shouldn't be up, Vin," Nathan pleaded, serious this time.

"We're just going over to the restaurant, we'll be back up in a minute," Chris said.

Nathan sighed, "Eat your meal's there then, before they send them over to the clinic."

Chris nodded and they headed on up the street. The townsfolk looked on at Vin as if he were a ghost, they had seen him sprawled in the dust earlier, blood pouring into the earth and most had written him off for dead.

"Vin! Oh you are all right!"

Chris sighed as he heard the voice of Mary Travis and they were forced to stop again as she cut them off.

"Miz Travis," Vin said, tipping his hat to her.

"I stayed out at Nettie's last night, I just got in and heard the news, they said you were shot in the head! Is that true?! Where is the man that did it? I saw the carriage earlier but.."

"Mary," Chris cut her off, giving her a hard look, "This ain't the time, Vin need's to be getting' back to Nathan's for some rest."

Mary looked chagrined. "Oh, of course . . . By all means, forgive me Vin, I will stop past the clinic later after you have rested."

"Ma'am," Vin said, tipping his hat to her again as they took off.

"Ah, gentlemen?"

They stopped again and turned back together.

"Isn't the clinic that way?" she pointed in the other direction.

Chris felt his lip quirk as he answered, "Yes ma'am, but our business is this way." He purposely left out any details, enjoying her frustration, seeing her need to know, knowing she was too polite to push further as they again walked off.

"Oh, of course then.." she said to their retreating backs.

They entered the restaurant and saw Ezra and JD at a table with the woman and child. Ezra saw them enter and stood, meeting them as they approached.

"If I may have a word, gentlemen?" he said, steering them back toward the doorway. "Glad to see you are recovering well, Mr Tanner, miraculous, to say the least."

"What is it, Ezra?" Chris asked as they were led outside again.

"I'm not sure, to tell the truth. The woman is lying, I am sure of it, I just don't know what about, precisely."

Chris looked at Vin. So they were both lying?

Seems that way.

"What did she say?" Vin asked.

"She says he did it."

Vin frowned and put his hand to the back of his neck, feeling his headache swelling again. "I don't think he did. I saw his face, but . . . " he looked at Chris, "Somethin' tell's me he didn't do it."

"I think the child is the key. He is the only one that may tell the truth, it seems," Ezra added. "There seems to be an unnatural relationship between him and his mother." Ezra frowned at that, "Not that that is uncommon between a mother and son . . . "

Chris noted the strain around Vin's face, "Well it wasn't the kid, that much we know."

"Might I suggest we make a play to unveil the true snake, let it rear its own head, so to speak?"

Chris and Vin looked at Ezra questioningly, both slightly wary as Ezra outlined his plan.

They went back inside and JD smiled brightly at the sight of Vin up and about. He wasn't surprised anymore by the man's strength, but amazed none the less.

"Hey Vin, good to see up up so quick," he wanted to say more but sensed, for once correctly, that by Chris's hard look towards the woman that this wasn't the time.

"Thanks, JD," Vin said and waited as he Ezra took their leave before tipping his hat to the woman still seated at the table. "Ma'am," he said, leaving his hat on his head. He'd rather leave it on in the restaurant than have people pointing at his bandages..

"Oh my, thank the Lord you are all right!" the woman said, but Vin had seen the shock in her face as they had walked up, the . . . disappointment even?

Vin smiled as he and Chris took the vacated seats left by JD and Ezra. He looked down at the boy's downcast face, having caught him sneaking a peak up at them.

"Hope the boys were treatin' ya nice," Vin said with a soft smile.

She smiled in return, even blushed a little. "They were the perfect gentlemen, thankyou," she answered and lowered her eyes to the table, looking up once more to meet his smile again before looking down.

Vin kept his grin in place even as his eyes narrowed slightly. The woman had yet to ask about her husband, should not a faithful wife be concerned for her husband's welfare? And he was no saint, he knew when a woman was flirting with him, that one look had been enough for him to know. He knew Chris sensed it too, they didn't have to exchange a look for him to feel it in Larabee's posture. It was all there if you knew how to look for it.

Chris noticed the boy squirming in his seat. "You wanna go to the outhouse, son?" he asked him.

The boy looked up, his eyes wide and looked at his mother.

"I'll take him," she said a little too sharply and realising it, smiled. "I mean, he's comfortable with me, he . . . he don't talk."

Chris looked at her, frowning. "What does that mean, 'he don't talk?'"

"Like I said, he don't talk. Stopped talking one day and never started it up again."

Chris's eyes narrowed. "Just like that," he said.

She missed the note of danger, of distrust in his voice as he stood up abruptly and moved around to the boy. "You've had a long ride, ma'am, I insist, it's no problem."

She bit off her protest as the man dressed in black led her son away, only to turn back in afterthought. "What's his name?" he asked her.

"Michael," she supplied, surprised he had asked.

"He ain't gonna eat him, ma'am, you needn't look so worried," Vin said, giving her another smile as Chris walked the boy outside. As she smiled in return he held out his hand to her, "Vin Tanner... bullet catcher."

She laughed lightly, a faint, hollow sound to his ears. "Jessica Waverly."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Waverly," he said formerly and her smile grew as their hands dropped back.

"Jessica, please."

 

Chris led the boy to the outhouse and waited outside. When he finally came out he looked slightly happier, but not by much. "All done?" he asked him and the boy nodded mutely. Chris's heart went out to the child, the big blue pools of pain threatened to swallow him whole as he looked down into them. Suddenly he crouched down by his side. "Son?" he chose his words carefully, the boy looking straight at him, without blinking it almost seemed to Chris. "Sometimes . . . our folks do things that aren't right. Even though they might tell us they are, we know in our heart that they ain't." He paused, "Do you understand what I'm saying, Mike?"

The boy nodded, his eyes widening, he'd never been called Mike before, the way this man said it, it kinda made him feel big.

Chris ran a hand through his own hair and looked at him closely. "There ain't no shame in you lettin' us know if your in trouble. If they are hurting you . . . " Chris closed his eyes, when he opened them again they were moist, this was just too damned hard, he had so many memories of his own to deal with, vying for his attention. His voice caught as he spoke. "I had a son once, Mike . . . He was about your age when he died.. I would never have hurt him for the world, that's not what parents should ever do to their kids . . . " he lowered his head a moment and was startled when a small hand reached up and touched his face.

Chris looked up sharply and saw the small smile on the child's face, his eyes all knowing as if sensing his pain, just like another set of wise blue eyes that he knew. Both had known pain and suffering, both had learnt from it.

"You don't have to go with them," he told him, "You can stay here son, I won't let them hurt you again."

Still the boy said nothing and Chris frowned a little. He was shocked but at the same time felt a sense of peace as he'd told the boy he would protect him. He didn't know what he had expected, but he'd been willing to take him on. He thought of the Bryson family, not so far out of town on their new ranch, how Mary had told him not long ago how they had longed for a child but had never managed to have one of their own.

Mike tugged on his hand, leading him back to the restaurant and Chris could only follow behind in silence.

 

"Your husband say's he didn't do it," Vin said after they had been introduced.

Jessica looked down. "Did your friend's tell you . . . ?"

"They told us you said he did."

Jessica stared at the white tablecloth until it went blurry then looked up, her eyes moist once more. "I love him," she said, like a plea. "Please don't make me speak out against him."

Vin smiled at her, not having a clean handkerchief to offer the weeping woman, but not really believing that she needed one, either. "If he shot me this mornin', I have a right to know, don't ya think?"

Jessica sniffed into the white material she still held crumpled in her hand. Vin recognised Ezra's embroidered initials and almost smiled at the destroyed garment.

"Yes.. yes you do, but . . . You don't know him like I do.." she reached out a hand and clutched his arm. "He'll come after me, after both of us!"

Vin looked down at her hand and then back up at her, his eyes becoming colder by the second. "He told us you did it," he told her.

Suddenly her eyes flashed to his and she realised he was not buying her story, his eyes had gone from smiling to cold without her seeing it coming. She snatched her hand away. "That's absurd."

"Is it?"

She slapped him then and the few patron's in the restaurant turned to look. He merely raised an eyebrow to her as if nothing had happened, despite the flash of pain the blow had caused in his head. He blinked back a momemtary sickness rising into his chest.

"Who are you really angry at?" he asked her, his smile colder still.

"You bastard, how dare you sit here and accuse me of trying to shoot you down in cold blood," she hissed.

He leant forward and spoke in the lowest of tones, "As easy as you can sit there and lie to my face . . . I know it was you, you wanted to set him up, you know he won't turn you in cos he loves you, " he winked at her before sitting back.

"You can't prove it," she spat at him, toying with the knife in her hand.

"Ya gonna stab me with that, now?" he asked lazily, seeing her frustation mount as Chris walked back to the table.

Chris took in the woman's seething posture and saw the knife held tight in her hand as he approached the table. He saw the handprint on Vin's face and knew Vin had done his job. "Guess it's time to head over to the jail then. Ma'am, if you'd care to follow us," he said politely.

"I will not! You men can't –"

"Figured a woman who loved her husband would want to check on him now, don't you Chris?"

"Would seem about right. Mrs Waverly? C'mon, son," Chris said, taking the boy's hand.

Vin met the eyes of the child as Chris took his hand. He knew that look, he'd seen it in the mirror looking back at him for long enough. He smiled at him then, a smile not of pity but of understanding and saw it returned instantly.

They followed her to the jail, Vin picking up the boy's other hand halfway there and they swung him between them into the air. Vin fought back a moment's dizziness, willing to put up with it for the sake of the smile the child was wearing at that moment. The third time they swung him in the air they heard his giggle like sunshine breaking out through thick dark clouds and they both exchanged a joyous glance before looking down at him.

When they did they saw that the boy's smile was gone, cut off with the escaping giggle and he pulled out of their grip and looked to his mother's back fearfully, eyes wide once more as he stepped forward tentatively.

This time when Chris looked to Vin, their faces were dark. By the time they entered the jail both were furious and wanting answers.

 

Jacob heard the commotion at the door and stood up.

"Put her in with him, Buck," Chris said.

"What?! You will not put me in there!" she nearly screamed.

"I'll stay fer a bit," Vin said to Chris as Buck opened the door and guided the protesting woman inside.

Chris nodded and grabbed the boy's hand again. "C'mon son." He turned to Buck, "Make sure he doens't fall flat on his face, he shouldn't even be up," he pointed at Vin accusingly.

"I got him covered," Buck smiled, winking at Vin.

Vin stopped to meet Jacob's eyes. "She says you did it," he told him straight. Jacob merely nodded wearily as Vin continued. "I know yer lyin', you gotta look at what yer lyin' to protect. That boy out there needs a pa, ya want him left with her while ya rot in jail?" He took the chair at the desk and lowered his head into his hands.

"How's the head?" Buck asked him.

"Feel's 'bout ready to fall off m'shoulders," Vin admitted.

"Let me out'a here now, I'll rub it for you."

Buck and Vin both looked up to the woman in shock, Jacob just hung his head again wearily.

"That's a right nice offer, ma'am, but I think I'll be leavin' that fer ya husband ta enjoy," Vin said, frowning at Waverly's son, wondering why he didn't react.

"My husband wouldn't know how to enjoy it if it went up and bit him on the ass," she said, smiling at the seated, dejected man with a mocking twist of her lips.

Vin looked at Buck, both slightly shocked. Ezra had thought if they turned them on each other they would have to find a resolution somehow, but Vin hadn't been quite prepared for this change of spots so blatantly from the woman. It was as if all pretence was now gone, she no longer cared.

"You there," she beckoned to Buck. "You want a confession out of me?"

Buck frowned, "Anytime honey, you just let ol' Preacher WIlmington know here."

Jessica smiled, "I want to whisper it to you."

Vin smiled tightly, "Careful Buck, them snakes a'got tongues can lash right out at ya."

Buck, still frowning stepped forward. "Go ahead, ma'am, I'm all ears," he said sarcastically, not expecting her to tell him anything.

It all happened so fast Buck had not moved an inch before she was pointing his own gun at him. He was stunned, he couldn't believe she had managed to get it faster than he could draw it himself.

"Drop your gun," she called to Vin.

Vin didn't move. "DROP IT!" she yelled, her finger squeezing on the trigger dangerously as she spoke, only inches from Buck's chest.

Vin unholstered his gun and put it on the table.

"That's real funny," she said. "Throw it over there!"

Vin tossed it over the other side of the table, out of his reach.

"Now open this door," she said, holding the gun steady. Jacob had come to stand behind her.

"No." Buck said clearly.

The gun shook once in her hands. "I mean it. I WILL kill you."

"Then who will open the door?" Buck asked.

She indicated Vin with her chin, now standing by the desk. "Him."

"You kill him, I definitely ain't openin' that door," Buck said, a slight smile on his face.

Jessica almost pulled the trigger, so great was her rage. "You will NOT mock me!" she shouted.

"Honey, put the gun down," Jacob said placidly.

She looked at him in astonishment. "Are you completely stupid? If we don't get out of here, one of us is going to be staying in here and I tell you now, it won't be me!"

"I know you did it, ma'am, ain't nothing you can do now to stop that."

She turned raging eyes at Vin, then smiled at him and turned to her husband. "He was just like him, you know, his hair was long, his body lean and strong . . . "

Jacob's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched as he looked at Vin against his will. "Stop it," he whispered.

"They all were . . . I loved their long hair, their smooth skin . . . "

"STOP it!" he pleaded, squeezing his eyes closed.

She laughed then, a mindless sound of evil to their ears. "You want to get rid of them?" she asked him.

Jacob looked at her, pleading with her silently to stop her terrible words.

"You want to make it go back to before? Forget anything ever happened?" she asked him again. She could see the desire in his eyes to do just that, it's what he wanted more than anything.

He remembered when they were so happy together, when their son had meant everything to her, to them both. She used to volunteer at the reservation outside of town, help the town's preacher with his work out there. Then she had become pregnant a second time and had taken a bad fall down the stairs of their home in her last month. When the baby had died, most of her had died along with it, for she had never been the same again.

He heard the whispers before he saw it for himself. They said she was having an affair with an Indian man out on the reservation, but he hadn't believed it until he had ridden out and seen it with his own eyes. It wasn't just one man, either.

She'd had no remorse when he had confronted her, didn't to this day, but he remembered the real her, the beautiful, loving woman he had married and could not let her go.. he dared to hope still . . .

She handed him the gun. "Kill him," she said, pointing at Vin. "Kill him and I'm all yours," she smiled.

Jacob looked at Vin again and gave a slight nod before looking at his wife again. "I will never have you back, will I?" he asked her.

She smiled at him indulgently, "Of course you will."

Jacob smiled at her then. "We can never go back..." He whispered in a raw, broken voice, "I never stopped loving you, not in my heart," he told her and saw her smile waver for just a second.

"But I did," she said and he almost reached for her before he saw her taunting smile shoot back up, transforming her face as she stepped back out of his reach. "You're a fool, Jacob, you always were."

Jacob looked at her one more time and smiled sadly. "You are right about that," he said.

Vin saw his intent before his arm even started to rise. "Waverly, NO!" he shouted, moving to the bars, but he was too late.

Chris heard the gunshot from outside and ran to the door in two strides, "Wait here!" he yelled at Mike. It took him a moment to put together what had happened as he saw Waverly on the ground, the massive pool of blood coming from his head telling him immediately he was dead, the smoking gun fallen from his own lifeless fingers. Then in a blink the woman had bent and snatched the gun, standing above him, looking shocked but pointing her reaquired weapon right at Vin's head.

She turned to Chris then and he saw the sorrow in her eyes, the deep sadness beneath her hysteria.

"Drop the gun, ma'am," he told her quietly.

She shook her head slightly, squeezing the trigger as she aimed it at Vin.

She wasn't going to put the gun down, she was going to pull that trigger, it was in her eyes. She didn't want to live and this was how she saw her way out of her world of pain. She looked at Chris again, almost a plea in her eyes.

"Drop it," he said again, "This is not the way. You've got a boy outside need's you."

"He doesn't need me . . . My boy is dead," she said and squeezed the trigger a fraction more.

Chris knew he'd only have one chance. He had to take her down, even knowing it was what she wanted, that he was playing executioner in her master plan, he knew that if he winged her she might still get the shot off . . . and he would not substitute Vin's life for hers.

At the last possible moment Chris Larabee took his shot and saw her fall to the ground, letting another small piece of himself fall along with her.

In the silence they heard the door open behind them and the three remaining sets of eyes turned to see the small boy standing in the sunlight of the open doorway, staring into the cell and looking at his parents, sprawled in their own blood on the floor. The sun caught in his hair, creating an aura of light around his angelic face.

Again Chris met the striking blue eyes as they tilted up to him and felt his own grow moist. A child should never see something like this. It was useless to admonish him for not staying outside as he'd told him, the damage was done. He took a step forward and was shocked once more as the child held out his hand silently. He took it, turning to look at Buck and Vin as he led the boy away from the scene.

"Well!" Buck said once they'd gone, facing the carnage of the room, his voice lacking any humour, "Guess we know who shot ya now." He was disturbed by what he had seen, trying to understand what had happened.

Vin raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing, he still couldn't believe what had just gone on.

Ezra suddenly ran into the jail and took in the scene in shock.

"Nice plan, Ez." Vin said, pushing himself up wearily and heading for the door, knowing if he didn't lie down soon after all the loud firing still ringing in his ears, he was going to collapse.

Ezra didn't say a word, he couldn't. It was a rare moment.

 

One week later.

Vin watched Chris tie his horse to the rail outside the saloon and waited until he walked over. "Hows the boy doin?" he asked him.

Chris smiled then and took the seat next to Vin. "Never seen a kid smile so much," he said. Taking him out to the Bryson ranch had been the perfect idea. He had toyed with the idea of letting him stay with him, but knew his was not a life that was fit for child to be a part of and he wasn't ready to live any other way just yet, might never be. Still, the idea had called to him for a spell.

"He talk, yet?" Vin asked.

"Not yet, but he's laughing, there ain't nothing wrong with his voice, Nathan and Josiah think it'll just be a matter of time."

"That's one tough kid," Vin said and the tone of his voice caused Chris to look at him closer.

"Yeah he is, reckon some people just hold their scars on the inside though, sometimes that's not a good thing, can eat at a man if you let it."

Vin looked up and met Chris's assessing gaze with a smile, letting him know he was all right. "Reckon yer right, but a man's gotta choose which scars a'ready ta heal in his own time... but I reckon ya know that."

Chris nodded at that, acknowledging Vin turning the tables back on him as they both looked out again across the street into the sunlight, letting another comfortable silence reign over them. Vin spoke once more into the silence, sharing his thoughts in his soft, gentle voice.

Sometimes I sit an' watch the sunlight
See it dance 'cross the water so free
an' I wonder if time would stop passin'
If I swam out and let it touch me
I can't hold the stream in my hand
Through my fingers it slips quickly by
But I give thanks that it chose to pass through me
As I look to the next rising sky

As Chris listened, he could only close his eyes, once more touched by Vin's feelings, so honoured that he had shared them with him. There was no need to speak, they just let the words fall away, picked up by the light, warm breeze that ran down the street before lifting to the blue summer sky.

END