A Journey's End by Cassie Smith Warning: Death of a canon character.

‘There's one thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die-their silence.'-Ben Hecht

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The summer morning was perfect. A crispness in the air caused the slightest chill to be felt, but the rising sun promised a warmth-filled afternoon. Dew glistened on the emerald-leafed trees surrounding the graveyard, as if specks of gold dust had been scattered about, and birds rejoiced the coming of the new day, with melodies of sweet abandonment.

The scent of wildflowers and honeysuckles drifted in the soft breeze, and dandelion petals danced an adagio of delight, as they were tossed and scattered by the wind's romp over the hills. It was a perfect picture of life as it should be; as one would like to have it always be; but to one young man sitting alone near a freshly dug tomb, it was an act of blasphemy.

J.D. Dunne couldn't help but to realize that it was the kind of day for fishing. Or for a long ride. Even a good day, for a checker game on the jailhouse porch. But he had no desire to do these things. No, he couldn't fancy them at all.

Because each time that he did, his thoughts turned to another that would have enjoyed doing them. Someone who would have casually taken him up on his offer to join him at the best fishing spot, when no one else had the time, or let him win a horse race, just by a nose-length, so he could have something to brag about to Casey, especially if it cost Ezra some money. The same person would have played checkers all day if he thought it would keep J.D.'s mind off some worry or spiff he'd had with Buck, even if he'd been up all night on a shift.

But of course, that person couldn't do those things with J.D. on this glorious day. No,that person would never do anything with J.D. again. Because Vin was dead. And no amount of tears, or wishes, or special memories could ever bring him back. For that, John Dunne, resented the audacity that nature had for offering up a picturesque summer day, as if nothing in the world had changed. Mother Nature had some nerve to go on in her usual manner, when a someone as special as Vin Tanner had been taken away from them.

In fact, things continued as they always had, even hours after the tracker had been laid to rest. That is, for everyone but the remnants of what had once been the Seven.

Children laughed and chased each other through the streets, men drifted in and out of the saloon, shouting and cursing the whiskey or the company, and people even had the guts to seem happy and joyful, as if good fortune were upon them.

The more J.D. saw, the angrier he became. How dare they go on! How dare life continue without Vin! Those thoughts were what drove him from town, what brought him to the spot near his friends grave, where he now sat, holding the tracker's harmonica that Chris had given him.

The dark-haired youth looked down at the small instrument and remembered the look in the gunslinger's eyes when he'd handed it to him. It had been after the service, right after Mary Travis had read one of Vin's poems. Larabee had turned to him and with out saying a word, placed the cold metal into his hand. J.D. shivered as he recalled the pain he saw etched in that ice-blue gaze, and bowed his head. No matter what he , himself , was feeling, Chris Larabee was suffering ten-fold. He and the tracker had shared a bond not many could understand. A bond of brotherhood. But,J.D. didn't have to experience that kind of loss, to empathize with it. He could ,all too easily, imagine what it would be like if something would happen to Buck.

He lifted his eyes to look at the lonely grave marker and a new anger surged within him. One he hadn't expected. "Damn you, Vin Tanner!" he cursed, throwing the harmonica onto the rich, newly unearthed dirt. "Damn you, for leaving us!."

With the rage, came the tears, and J.D. buried his face in his hands, letting go of the well spring of pain he'd been keeping damned up. He didn't know how long he'd been that way, time held no meaning, before a hand on his shoulder startled him from his grief.

"J.D.?"

The teen quickly lifted his head and tried to wipe away any traces of what had taken place. There was no way he wanted Buck to see him crying like a baby.

"You alright, kid?"

J.D. nodded, not trusting his voice, just yet.

Wilmington forced a small smile, but didn't look convinced. "Mind if I join you, for a while?"

"Go ‘head." The youth's voice cracked, but Buck seemed not to notice.

The gunslinger slowly sat on the grass beside the boy, and removed his hat, which he began fiddling with. Buck could never keep his hands still, especially when something was troubling him.

"Beautiful day," he said softly, letting his dark eyes skim the area around them. "Shame, Vin's not here to enjoy it. Boy was a damn fool for nature."

J.D. swallowed hard and turned his head from the other man, making his choked words barely audible. "It's not fair."

"What'd you say, son?" Wilmington let his hand rest on his best friend's shoulder again.

The kid quickly turned hurt and very angry eyes on him. "I said it wasn't fair! None of this is fair! Not Vin dying! Not Chris walking around like some zombie! And not, not..."

"Not what?" Buck tilted his head, and encouraged J.D. to continue. He seemed unphazed by the outburst.

J.D.'s lower lip began to tremble, "Not me feeling this way again, Buck." The kid took a ragged breath, and his shoulders slumped, defeat replacing the ire. "I was just beginning to trust being happy. To get used to caring ‘bout something. I lost that when my ma died, but I found it again when I began riding with the seven. Now," the teen waved his hand in the air, "now, I don't know what to feel."

Wilmington squeezed his friend's shoulder tighter. "That's natural, J.D. Your emotions are all mixed up right now. You'll work them out over time.."

"Time!" J.D. interrupted. "Time's not going to fix things, Buck. Time isn't going to bring Vin back."

The gunslinger let his hand drop from the kid's arm and sighed heavily. "No, no it won't bring him back, kid. And no, it won't change what happened to us all."When Buck's eyes met J.D.'s they were glistening with unshed tears. "But it will ease the pain it will take the edge off the memories."

"But I don't want to forget." A single tear slipped down J.D.'s youthful features. "I want to remember everything about him."

Buck shook his head. "You won't forget ,Vin, kid. It's just that when you think of him, you won't see the bad things, the painful things, you'll remember him the way he was before ." The older man let out a soft chuckle. "Like how he could insult old Ezra without him ever being the wiser, or how he could make even Chris Larabee laugh." The older man's voice thickened. "Or how he would go to any lengths to protect a friend."

"I want to remember those things." J.D. looked at the other man. "But right now, all I can see is Chris holding him in the street, and I can almost hear him take his last breath, and I can feel the panic racing up inside of me, like I'm reliving the whole thing over and over again."

Wilmington lowered his head, wishing he could come up with the words to give J.D. some peace, to take away his anguish, when the quiet question caught him off guard.

"We're going to lose, Chris, too. Aren't we?"

Buck brought his dark gaze up to lock with the hazel one. "Not if we can get him to come to his senses."

"How do we do that?" the teen asked, incredulously. "I don't blame him for how he feels, if something happened to you, I'd probably.."

A sudden hand over the kid's mouth cut his words short. "Don't even say it! Don't even think it!" The gunslinger let his palm slip from J.D.'s face, but his eyes danced with anger. "If something happened to me, I'd want you to go on. I'd expect you to live for the both of us. Not rush off into some suicidal gunfight, or drift off into a bottle of whiskey."

"But.."

"No buts, kid. Life is too precious. Vin believed that. He was a survivor. He ‘died' so you, so all of us, could keep enjoying that gift. He understood that life is only a small part of the journey, kid.  I won't dishonor his death by giving up. And I sure as hell won't let Chris do it either, ‘least not without a fight."

"It'll be a tough battle," J.D. spoke the truth. "Chris won't let this go."

Buck nodded and slipped his hat back on. "That's why me and Vin need your help."The gunslinger stood up, and then offered his help to the boy. "Can we count on you?"

J.D. cast a glance at the grave in front of him before looking up at the oustretched palm. He couldn't surpress a small smile as a wind picked up, brushing against his face like a soft nudge. "Friends stick together no matter what, don't they." He took hold of the hand and held on tightly as he was lifted to his feet.

"You bet they do, kid." Wilmington pulled the teen into his side, and threw an arm around his shoulder.

The two started to walk away when J.D. stopped. "Hold up, Buck. I forgot something." The teen turned and made his way back to the grave. He bent down and let his fingers close around the harmonica he'd thrown earlier.

Looking up into the blue sky, he let the breeze rush over him again, imagining he could almost hear a familiar tune. "I won't let you down, Vin. I promise."

END