Free Bird

By: Susie Burton

Disclaimer: The 'Magnificent Seven' and other characters from the series are the property of MGM, Trilogy and the Mirisch Company. I just borrowed them, played with them for a while, and then very regretfully gave them back! The original characters found in this piece are mine and should not be used without permission. Sadly, no money will be made from this work of fan fiction.

Genre: Old West — H/C, angst, drama

Main characters: Vin, Chris, Ezra.

Rating: PG13, mainly for language, plus some violence.

Thank you to my husband, Mike, for his patience and understanding whilst I sat for hours at the PC writing this, my first ever work of fan fiction. Thanks also to Heather and Sue for their constant encouragement.

As with each of my stories, the themes, convoluted ideas, original characters and writing are, in their entirety, all of my own work.

The original version of this story was posted to Lady Angel's Library website in March 2003.

This version has been revised, expanded and completely re-edited — May 2004.

Feedback and comments can be sent to susieburton999@yahoo.co.uk

Part 8

"Nathan! Dammit! Where the hell are m'pants? NATHAN!"

Chris' angry bellow shattered the peaceful tranquillity of the clinic, as the gunslinger impotently fumed at the healer's lack of response to his request.

Nathan and Josiah were perched on either side of the unconscious Vin Tanner, supporting his limp body in a semi-upright position, as they painstakingly fed warm broth into the younger man. Nathan's eyes met Josiah's amused countenance, and the healer couldn't hide his mirth at the gunslinger's almost petulant agitation.

"It might do Vin some good if we jes' let 'im carry on hollerin' fer a while, 'cos it'd certainly make this chore a lot simpler to do if the boy woke up now," Nathan whispered to Josiah.

The healer's attention quickly returned to his patient and, puffing out an exasperated breath, he wiped off broth that had dribbled down the tracker's chin and neck.

"Jes' tell me where you hid 'em! Nathan? Can you hear me?" Chris' voice had got louder as his irritation increased.

"Reckon the whole town can hear ya, Chris. I've already told ya, you'll have to wait 'til we've done this fer Vin. It won't take much longer, an' then I can help ya get sorted. Unless of course, ya'd like to come an' take over from me, while I find yer clothes?" Nathan called out to the other room, unable to resist the jibe, but knowing what the gunslinger's reaction would be to the suggestion.

Chris bounced back against his pillows in frustration, impatiently tapping his foot in the bed as he deliberately ignored the healer's last comment. He'd been awake for several hours and, after eating lunch, he'd had to endure the unwelcome attentions of Josiah, as the ex-preacher had helped him wash and shave. It was now mid-afternoon and, after sleeping for almost eleven hours, Chris was feeling reasonably stronger. The throbbing in his shoulder had almost gone and he was desperate to get away from the suffocating environment of Nathan's clinic. A motivation that he knew had more to do with the continued unconscious state of the tracker, than any real desire to be mobile.

Picking up a cup of nearly cold coffee from the side table Chris took a half-hearted sip, grimacing at the overly weak brew before slamming it down once again. Stretching into a more upright position, he peered out of the window by the door, believing he could hear footsteps on the outer stairs. One of his other friends would be able to find his clothing. That optimism was short-lived and quickly ended when the door remained stubbornly closed. Seeing that no assistance was immediately forthcoming, he considered wrapping a blanket around himself to make his way back to the boarding house, a thought that was mercifully interrupted as Nathan appeared from behind the screen carrying his medical bag. Giving the healer a withering look, Chris silently watched as his friend placed his bag on the dresser, and then ambled over to a wooden chest on the other side of the room.

Nathan returned to stand close to Chris' bed, a pile of clothing topped by a gun belt in his arms. With a grim smile, the healer jutted his chin to the bundle.

"I ain't lettin' ya have 'em 'til ya swear to me that ya'll stay in town. I ain't got the time or energy to come chasing after ya if you have a relapse out at yer cabin. So what's it gonna be, Chris?"

Chris was aware that the strong-willed healer wouldn't allow himself to be bullied, especially when in his own domain, and the gunslinger knew the only way he would get out was by agreeing to Nathan's request. Nodding wordlessly, Chris held out his hand for the clothes.

Watching as the older man carefully swung his legs out of bed, Nathan went to pour two cups of coffee.

"When will ya be back?" the healer asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Having succeeded in pulling on and buttoning his pants, Chris bent down to try and get his socks on, grunting in annoyance as he struggled with his one free hand. With a soft curse at his firmly strapped right arm, Chris flung the offending items on his bed as he scowled angrily at the healer.

"I don't know, Nathan! I ain't even gone yet, and you're on at me!"

Josiah had crossed to the gunslinger's side and, giving a beaming smile, he knelt down to offer his help. "Even the most able of men, occasionally need help from their friends."

Reaching up for his friend's socks, the ex-preacher completed the chore before placing the gunslinger's boots into a more accessible spot. Picking up the clean shirt, Josiah eased Chris' injured arm from the sling and, after helping the man to get into the garment, the ex-preacher competently secured the limb into place.

"Thanks, Josiah." Chris visibly relaxed as he fastened his shirt buttons.

"Chris." With a smile, Josiah held up the other man's black gun belt.

Lifting his left arm a little, Chris allowed his friend to strap the belt around him, and then secure the pigging thongs to his leg. Sitting back down to pull his boots on Chris paused, staring at the partitioned corner as if he was seeing his unconscious friend through the solid screens. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, the gunslinger continued getting dressed.

Glancing at Nathan, Josiah sat down on the chair next to the bed. "I know it's painful for you, Chris, but doesn't Vin deserve any help that you can provide?" The ex-preacher sat back, folding his arms as he gazed thoughtfully at the gunslinger.

"Is there really any point?" Chris couldn't disguise the bitterness in his voice.

"Yes! All life's precious, and we have to do all we can to uphold that tenet. I don't believe that Vin would want us to give up without a fight, and that's why we have to help him. Search your heart, Chris, and answer me honestly. Do you think this is how Vin would want to die?" Josiah asked quietly.

"No, but mebbe I'm being more realistic than the rest of you. Vin's blind, and perhaps this is his way of resolving that problem. I think it's his choice, Josiah." Chris' reply was emphatic.

Nathan put his cup down hurriedly and came to stand beside Josiah's chair. "We can't possibly know that for sure and we have no right to play God with someone else's life. Chris, ya know that I've always maintained that I thought his sight would return and I still believe that. His other injuries ain't life threatening, so if we allow him to slip away without a struggle then we don't deserve to call ourselves his friends. I know it ain't easy, but we must keep trying to reach him. We must have faith and be strong together."

Josiah nodded sombrely at the healer's words. "Nathan's right, Chris. We can only put our trust in the Lord and pray that He will prevail. The choice will ultimately rest with Him." The ex-preacher raised a finger upward at his last sentence.

"Faith? Trust?" Chris spat the words out as if they burned his tongue. "Don't you quote that sanctimonious bullshit to me!" He glared scornfully at his two friends, who exchanged uneasy glances.

"Chris... " Josiah began, shifting in his chair as he attempted to placate the furious gunslinger.

Chris leapt up from the bed, turning heatedly to face the other men. "No! Where was the Lord when Sarah and Adam died? You tell me that, preacher. An' if He's so loving, how can He allow this to happen. Faith? No. The only faith I've got now is strapped to my right side, but even that didn't do any good when Vin went down those stairs. I should've done more, Nathan. Vin knew I was close by and he was relying on me t'get him outta there. But I did nothing." Chris turned away, unable to endure the look of sympathy on the healer's face.

"Chris, it's not yer fault that ya collapsed. Ya were hurt summat bad too an' Vin wouldn't blame ya fer not being able t'get to him. I don't know if this makes much sense, 'cos it's only jes' occurred to me in the light of what you've now told me, but mebbe he thought you'd bin killed. I think that could partly explain the boy's current condition if it were the case. An' that's a greater reason why ya should try an' reach him now."

Nathan was determined to make his friend see this possibility, but Chris shook his head in angry denial.

"No, you're wrong Nathan, and there's nothing I can do to change things. I failed Sarah and Adam, and it's happened all over again. Don't make me sit and watch this all come to an end 'cos it'd be more than I could bear." Chris' voice shook with emotion, and he started to pace restlessly around the room as he fought to regain his composure.

The healer let out an exasperated snort at Chris' stubborn attitude, incensed that his friend wouldn't even listen to a different viewpoint. "What are you more frightened of, Chris? Vin dying, or that you let yourself care for another person again?" Nathan was truly angry now and the words were out before he could stop them.

Chris stopped his pacing, stunned rigid as a look of devastation flitted across his face at the healer's blunt accusation. Dragging his left hand over his eyes, he abruptly crossed to the clinic door. With a last sorrowful look at the screened off corner he yanked the door open, slamming it loudly as he strode out of the clinic.

Nathan sank down on the empty bed, putting his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have said that, Josiah. Lord, what have I done?" The healer was emotionally drained, and felt as if he had nothing left to give to any of his friends.

Putting a sympathetic hand on the other's shoulder, Josiah shook his head. "No, my friend, you weren't to blame. The truth is often painful, and Chris already has a whole pile of anger and conflict in him. This is something that only he can work out. Y'know Nathan, I sometimes think we don't need to fear the hereafter. We make our own living Hell right here on Earth!"

Looking up, Nathan gazed sadly at the partitioned corner. "I may have just destroyed any hope that Vin had of recovery. Why didn't I jes' let him go?"

Josiah wasn't altogether sure which of the two men the healer was referring to. "I think he'll return, Nathan. Too much has happened with Vin for Chris to simply walk away. That's how they are, and Chris knows it works both ways. Vin came back after leaving Chris at Ella's that time, and Chris followed when Vin was taken by Eli Joe's phoney lawmen, even though he thought he was going against the law. He needs some time to think things through. I just hope and pray that the others stay out of his way for now."

"I'm not so sure that he'll be back. I honestly thought he would sit with Vin, or at least go in an' see him, but I was wrong. I don't know what else to do, Josiah. I doubt that the boy has much more than a couple of days or so. He was that weak already, an' there jes' ain't any options left. It'll be a slow downward spiral from now on an', pretty soon, it won't matter much if he wakes up or not." The healer's voice conveyed the total dejection he felt.

With a heavy sigh Nathan rose and went to get a bottle of whiskey from his cupboard and, after raising an inquiring eyebrow at Josiah, he poured two large glasses of liquor. Handing a glass to the ex-preacher, Nathan settled in his rocking chair, hoping that he would get a chance to unwind without interruption.

There didn't seem anything left to say about what had recently occurred, and the two men sat drinking in melancholy silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Ezra Standish sat at a table in the saloon, sipping whiskey that he didn't even taste as he fiddled with the plaited and beaded bindings on the small Indian talisman in his hand. Turning the brightly woven pouch over, his fingers idly traced around the intricate pattern of the fine turquoise beads, and he stared at the object as if seeing it for the first time. He was unable to recall from which branch of the Comanche people the medicine pouch originated from, or the correct Indian name for the talisman, although Vin had told him this information when the tracker had explained its use to the gambler some months previous. As Ezra continued to quietly contemplate the object, the saloon door swung open to admit a grim faced Chris Larabee, saddlebags slung casually over his left shoulder.

Without seeming to notice the engrossed gambler sitting at the corner table, Chris strode across to the bar, leaning heavily against the counter as he waited for the drink he'd ordered. He had just come from his lodgings at the boarding house and, after purchasing a few essential supplies from the General Store, the gunslinger felt in need of a drink before making the long ride out to his cabin. Picking up the glass of whiskey that Inez placed in front of him, Chris took a slow, hesitant sip before turning to survey the virtually empty room.

The large window by the batwing doors was still boarded up with wooden planks and the few tables and chairs that had survived the rowdy brawl of two evenings ago looked decidedly rickety and unsafe. Chris' gaze fell on the pre-occupied gambler, but it was the colourful pouch that his friend toyed with that held the gunslinger's attention. With a puzzled frown, he pushed his nearly full glass away from him, and strolled over to Ezra's table.

The gambler started in surprise as his friend interrupted his deliberations; he had not even noticed the gunslinger enter the saloon.

"Chris! I see that you have somehow managed to escape from Mr. Jackson's rather smothering, but nonetheless, skilful and well-meaning ministrations." Ezra raised his glass in a salutary manner to the absent healer before taking a large swallow of whiskey.

Signalling to Inez for a beer, Chris sat down opposite the gambler and regarded the man inquisitively. "Yeah, you could say that. What have you got there, Ezra?"

The unusual pouch had aroused the gunslinger's curiosity and he scrutinised the object, as he took a gulp of beer from the glass that the pretty Mexican girl brought over.

Ezra absently wound the bindings of the pouch around two of his fingers, holding up his hand to allow the gunslinger to have a closer look. "It's an Indian healing pouch, although I am unable to recall the correct tribal name for it at the moment. Do you remember that unfortunate mishap some months ago when I fell and broke my collarbone? Well, whilst I was recovering in Mr. Jackson's clinic, Vin gave this medicine bag to me as it is said to possess healing qualities."

The gunslinger knew only too well the incident Ezra was referring to. The gambler had been riding out to Chris' cabin when his horse had thrown him and the resulting shoulder injury and heat stroke had given all his friends cause for concern for several days. When Ezra had burned with a raging fever, Nathan had hardly left the sick man's bedside, but Chris knew that Josiah and Vin had also taken some of the responsibility of nursing the gambler back to full health.

The older man pursed his lips, leaning closer to get a better look at the object. "What d'ya mean when you say 'healing qualities'? Where did Vin get it from, Ezra?"

"Waal, I believe it came from one of the Comanche tribes that Vin was living with some years back. Apparently, he smashed up his leg quite badly — a hunting accident I believe — and the tribe's medicine man used this healing talisman as part of his treatment for the injury. It is said to contain an eagle's head feather for strength and a certain type of amber stone with mystical properties. The magic in the pouch is considered to be incredibly powerful and should only be used as a last resort on those who have severe or even life threatening ailments. However, there are clearly defined decrees that must be adhered to for the medicine to work and, if the pouch is opened, then the good spirits that are held within are neutralised. In addition, the giver and the receiver must be a proven warrior of brave and noble heart, with an honourable spirit that is true not only to oneself, but also to all family and friends."

The gambler smiled contemplatively, as he steadily regarded the older man for a moment. "Of course, I am not entirely convinced that it worked for me. Nathan's efforts when I was incapacitated were immeasurable and for that I am eternally grateful. Despite my own reservations afterwards, Mr. Tanner was certain that this medicine bag tipped the scales in my favour, as my fever broke shortly after he had fastened the pouch to my wrist. As you know, I did eventually make a full recovery." Ezra ran his fingers along the edge of the pouch thoughtfully as he finished speaking.

"So what are you doing with it now?" Chris took another swig of his beer, as he gazed expectantly at the gambler.

This entire concept was outside the gunslinger's sphere of experience, although he was aware that Vin, Josiah, and even Nathan held firm convictions that Indian medicine practices and beliefs could be beneficial, particularly when used in conjunction with the up-to-date medical treatments that the healer applied. While he admitted that he didn't fully understand the principles, it didn't prevent him from accepting that there could be a positive gain from the use of the pouch.

"Hmm. Well, I was thinking that I should now return this to Vin. No one could deny that his current situation is sufficiently serious to warrant the use of the talisman's powers, if there are any of course, but... " Ezra's explanation tailed off and he lowered his eyes, unblinking as he stared at the pouch.

"What?" Chris had begun to suspect what caused the gambler's uncharacteristic reticence.

"I... erm... well I am not sure that I have the necessary qualifications to be a suitable giver of the talisman. Maybe you think this is ridiculous, Chris, but what if I make things worse for Vin simply by not fulfilling the medicine man's required criteria for the pouch to do its work?"

Ezra was genuinely troubled by this idea, and Chris saw the younger man's hand shake slightly as he picked up his glass to take a steadying drink.

"You think you're unworthy?" Chris was amazed at his friend's suddenly modest attitude.

Ezra nodded sadly, unable to meet the gunslinger's steady look.

"Ezra, didn't you say that both the giver and the receiver of the pouch had to be... What was it...? Brave and noble — a warrior with honourable ways?"

The gambler nodded slowly at the other man's question, staring at the pouch as Chris continued. "Waal, seems to me, if Vin believed you met the requirements to have it from him in the first place, then why doubt yourself as the next one to do the giving?"

As the words registered, the gambler's green eyes raised, to be held briefly in Chris Larabee's frank, hazel gaze. Ezra's face suddenly lit up with a radiant smile, his gold tooth flashing momentarily.

"Why yes. Thank you, Mr. Larabee; I do believe you are correct. I had not thought of it in that context. I will go and see Vin immediately, Nathan will understand perfectly, and there isn't a moment to lose." The man clutched the pouch tighter as he started to rise.

"Ezra?"

"Yes?"

"Vin's a very lucky man. I can see why he respects and values your friendship." Chris also rose. Holding out his left hand to the gambler, the two clasped hands warmly, eyes locked in mutual understanding and comradeship for several seconds.

Releasing his hold, Chris gave his friend a farewell nod and then strode through the door, hoping he would make it out to his cabin before nightfall. Ezra followed not long after, heading in the direction of the clinic.

Chris reached the Livery without seeing any of his friends — which suited him entirely. He wasn't in the mood to give any explanations regarding his departure, although he felt a little guilty about going back on his word to Nathan, and he knew that the healer would be furious with him when he did finally return to town. The gunslinger promptly pushed that last thought away; the heartbreaking implications of his return were something he couldn't — or perhaps more accurately, didn't want to — contemplate. How could he come back to Four Corners, knowing that all he would see was his closest friend's freshly dug grave? After Sarah and Adam's deaths, he'd vowed to never again stand over a beloved's tomb.

Looking around the stable for what he envisaged to be the last time, Chris unhooked his horse's bridle from the nail by the stall and opened the door. Vin's black gelding in the adjoining box, suddenly whickered in greeting to the man, its ears pricked forward as he regarded the familiar gunslinger. Chris smiled fondly at the tracker's cantankerous horse.

"It's no good you getting excited. You ain't going anyplace today, y'hear?"

Chris slipped the bit into his horse's mouth, ignoring the impatient stamping of his friend's mount as the other gelding continued to move around in his stall. With a grunt of irritation he struggled to get the bridle on one-handed, finally fastening the last buckle with a heartfelt sigh. Hefting the saddle into place, he was about to tighten the girth when Vin's gelding let out a loud whinny, causing his own mount to call back in greeting.

Leaning against the shoulder of his softly snuffling horse, Chris closed his eyes, swallowing hard as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. This was more difficult than he'd imagined. The gunslinger had lost count of the number of times he and Vin had stood in their respective mounts stalls saddling up, usually in companionable silence as they were about to embark on a trip. As Chris turned to look again at the tracker's gelding, he could almost hear the Texan amiably scolding his horse. A picture sprang into his mind of a smiling Vin Tanner mounted and lounging easily in the saddle as he waited to ride out with his friends.

"Dammit to hell, Vin! What have you done to me?"

Chris brushed angrily at his eyes as his vision blurred. With a heavy sigh, he began taking off his mount's saddle, dropping it back on the burro before easing the bridle off again and putting it back on its hook. The gunslinger gave his horse a friendly slap on the rump before locking the stall door and hurrying out of the stable. He wasn't sure where he was going; all he knew was that he needed to be somewhere quiet and private, a place where no one would find him while he thought things through.

With a surprised snort, Chris realised that his feet had led him to Vin's wagon, which was stored in an isolated corner of an alley opposite the hotel. Lifting the heavy tarpaulin flap, he tossed his saddlebags into the back, and with a hasty glance around the deserted alley, he quickly clambered up into the rear of the wagon

Pulling the flap fully closed behind him Chris crouched down a little and, seeing the sturdy wooden chest close to the front seat, he worked his way along, sinking down gratefully onto the lid. This was the first time he had actually been inside his friend's wagon and he gazed around in mild curiosity at the few belongings on display.

A small wooden box with an intricately carved lid was stowed under the front seat, and it was evident from the worn, glossy patina of the surface that it was a much handled and treasured item. Chris wouldn't dream of prying into his friend's most private and cherished possessions so, with a dismissive smile, he carried on looking around. Various oddments of bridle straps and saddle parts hung from hooks on the wooden side panel and a neatly folded pile of brightly coloured Indian blankets sat in one corner. Atop this bundle sat Vin's bedroll, a coffee-pot and small skillet.

Chris chuckled quietly as he saw an assortment of colourful bandanas' threaded through a large metal ring hanging from one of the side support struts of the wagon's awning. Stretching up a little, he fingered one of the more gaudy neck cloths, recognising it as one that Vin had been teased about by Ezra when the tracker had worn it the previous week. Releasing the bandana the man put his hand across his eyes, bowing his head as he tried to blot out the potent memories of his friend that kept appearing unbidden in his mind.

Thinking about what had occurred while he had lain in the clinic recovering from his wound, Chris mused over the collective efforts of his friends, as the solidly united peacekeepers tried to get a response from the unconscious Texan. As he continued to chew over the problem, he kept returning to the furious argument that he'd had with Nathan and Josiah. It wasn't a theory he'd actually considered himself, but the pervading thought in Chris' mind was the healer's speculation that Vin may have believed the gunslinger had been killed in the shootout with the Russian.

The distant sound of two men talking dragged him back to actuality with a start, and he realised that he had been sitting in the wagon for over an hour. Getting to his feet, he inched along to the rear flap, raising the cover before jumping lightly to the ground. Slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder, he set off along the street, his stance purposeful as he came to a decision.

The light was still good in the partitioned corner of the clinic, but Nathan increased the burner on the lamp as he bent over the unconscious tracker. The bullet hole in Vin's side had healed well and the healer had decided to remove the stitches, a chore that was always easier to do if the patient was completely immobile. With an annoyed grunt, the dark-skinned peacekeeper bent his head closer as he struggled with several sutures that had become imbedded into flesh. Hearing the clinic door open and someone enter, Nathan lifted his head distractedly, calling out to the other room.

"That was quick! Josiah, could ya bring me my medical kit? Some of these stitches are real tricky t'get hold of."

The healer carried on with his task, not really paying any attention to the movements of the person in the outer room. Nathan had his back towards the screened off area's entrance, and didn't even look up as the medical bag was placed on the bed beside him. "Thanks. I need the small forceps fer these last... Chris!"

Nathan had taken a quick glance over his shoulder, and the shock he felt on seeing Chris Larabee was unmistakable.

Chris stared hard at Vin, his gaze taking in the bandaged shoulder and innumerable bruises on his friend's still body. With a wry grin at the healer, he sat on the chair to the other side of the bed, leaning his left elbow on the mattress edge, as he fleetingly touched the Indian medicine pouch loosely tied to the tracker's right wrist.

"I see Ezra's been up here."

Chris' tone was conversational as he watched Nathan methodically rummage in the medical bag.

"Yeah."

The healer extracted a small scalpel and tweezers from his bag, bending closer to finish the delicate procedure with the stitches as he debated what to say to Chris. There were many questions forming in Nathan's mind, but he didn't want to say anything that his friend could interpret as antagonistic for fear of driving the older man away yet again.

The healer had spoken at length to Ezra when he had turned up at the clinic with the Indian medicine pouch, and the gambler had reluctantly informed him that it appeared that Chris was about to leave town, an action which caused Nathan to bitterly curse the gunslinger. Following the precipitous arrival of Chris in the clinic now, it seemed that the other had spent the afternoon wrestling with his personal demons, but had obviously reached a firm decision to assist his friends in trying to revive the comatose tracker.

Chris pursed his lips at Nathan's terse response, sensing that his friend was ill at ease. "Nathan, I kept thinking about what you said and it made me wonder what I would've done if it'd been me in Vin's position."

The healer inspected his handiwork closely and, reaching across for a small jar, he began to gently smear ointment on the healing bullet wound.

"Huh-huh. Does that mean yer gonna sit an' talk t'him?" Nathan asked carefully, although he didn't look at his older friend.

Giving a slow nod, Chris briefly placed a hand on the tracker's forehead. "Yeah. Mebbe you had a valid point, so it seems to me that I gotta do whatever I can to wake him up. I owe Vin that, Nathan."

Wiping his hands thoroughly on a towel, the healer nodded in silent understanding, relieved that the gunslinger had changed his mind. Nathan wasn't expecting an apology from his friend; the fact that Chris had actually returned to the clinic and admitted that the healer had a feasible argument was a major climb down by the other man.

"Waal, I'm all done here fer now. Josiah jes' went to grab a meal, but if yer sticking around here then I may as well go get some food in me too." Nathan was tidying up his equipment as he spoke and, after disposing of the soiled bandages and cloths, he pulled the blanket closer around the tracker.

"Take as long as you need, Nathan. I ain't going anyplace."

Chris hung his hat on the end of the bed as he spoke, before seating himself comfortably in Nathan's rocking chair.

Picking up his medical bag, the healer stood for a moment staring gravely at the tracker. "Chris, we still have some time y'know, and I honestly believe it's you that can make the difference to him. I know ya find that real difficult to accept, but you've jes' gotta trust the same instincts that drew ya back here."

Nathan put an encouraging hand on the gunslinger's shoulder. "I'll make sure ya get some privacy fer a few hours. There's fresh coffee in the pot, so I'll see ya later."

Chris nodded wordlessly as the healer left the corner. On hearing his friend leave the clinic a few minutes later, the gunslinger went out to pour some coffee, before returning once again to the partitioned area.

Taking a sip of the hot brew, Chris peered at his friend intently. The tracker's face was extremely pallid, his prominent cheekbones giving a clear indication of the amount of weight he'd lost since being injured. The gunslinger was shocked by his friend's fragile appearance, but what surprised him most was how vulnerable and young the tracker looked; his relaxed features made him look as if he were no older than JD. Giving a wry smile, Chris admitted that Vin was only several years older than JD, but the tracker's wide-ranging experience of life gave him a maturity that made him seem much older than he actually was.

With a heavy sigh, Chris took hold of his friend's left hand, unsure what to say to the unconscious man now that he'd sat down. Taking a deep breath as he continued thinking, the gunslinger settled more comfortably into the chair. "I dunno if you can hear me, pard, but I thought you might like t'know a little about me 'n' Sarah, when we first began courting."

Chris didn't know why he had picked those particular memories to talk about, but he carried on regardless. "We met in the town close to where she lived. Sarah and her pa had come in for supplies, and while her old man was in the saloon, I just happened to come across her struggling to load the wagon. Course, I'd've helped any lady, but her being so pretty an' all, I was drawn to her like a fish to a hook. There was something about her that I knew, there and then, that she was the one for me. We both felt it and we arranged to meet again. When I rode out to the Connelly small holding that first time, her pappy took me out to the barn. Whooee, I tell you Vin, some of the things he said to me... Waal, I knew he weren't gonna make it easy for us. Hell, he nigh on chased me out with a shotgun before I'd even gone into the house for Sarah!"

The gunslinger chuckled at the memory. Hank Connelly was fiercely protective of his only child, and had already frightened off several of the girl's suitors, even those from well-known and respected families in the area. Chris Larabee certainly didn't present the image of a reliable, sensible and caring husband-to-be, and Connelly had warned him about hurting or upsetting his daughter. He'd seen the man many times in town, drunk and carousing with other equally troublesome youngsters, which convinced him that Chris was hotheaded and not someone that he could trust his precious child to.

The more the man tried to keep the couple apart, the stronger the relationship became between Chris and Sarah, until eventually they married and moved away from the area. Connelly never forgave the younger man for taking away his most cherished possession and refused to visit the couple, unable to reconcile his loss with his own daughter's happiness as she married the person she loved. Chris took another sip of his coffee, ruefully shaking his head, as he thought about his deceased father-in-law, glad that at the end of Connelly's life the two men had achieved some sort of reconciliation.

"Yeah, I tell you, Vin, that Hank was one ornery old man when he set his mind to it, but I can't fault him for the love he had for Sarah. I'm sure she would've liked you. I wish you could've met her — and Adam too. He would've been so excited t'see some of the things you've got in your wagon, especially the Indian stuff."

Chris smiled broadly as another family memory came into his mind. "I remember when Buck was visiting us one time. He made Adam a little bow and a couple arrows, and Sarah tied a band around his head with a feather stuck in it. That boy thought he was a real Injun brave, whooping round the corral, and shooting off his tiny stick arrows. Then Buck got a crazy notion in his head to mount him on a horse bareback, Indian style. I can still hear Adam shrieking in delight as he trotted round on the lead rein; 'til he fell off of course, and then I laughed 'til it hurt 'cos Sarah took her broom to Buck. Adam was fine, but she was that riled up. You should've heard the cuss words she used on ole Buck as she chased him across that yard! Vin, you'd have been blushing to hear such from a lady!" Chris laughed at the happy recollection.

With a shock he realised that this was the first time since Sarah and Adam's deaths that he had felt able to talk in detail about his family, and was even more amazed that the surfacing memories did not make his heart ache quite so much as they once had. Giving a wry smile, Chris wondered whether his acutely personal conversation with the unconscious Vin Tanner was having as much healing effect on himself as it was intending to be on his friend.

"Yeah, we did have some good times, Vin. Buck's right — it's good to remember the best parts. It gives you summat to hang onto. When I look back now, and remember how I was after they died, it makes me appreciate what Buck did for me. Why he put up with me in those dark days and months, I don't know. He was always there for me, even though at times I was a real bastard to him. Through all my drunken rages and angry fights, he always pulled me through and straightened me out. Not once — ever — did he let me down, and if it wasn't for him I reckon I'd not be sitting here now." Chris shook his head in wonderment as he reflected on the strong, loyal friendship his oldest friend still held for him.

Picking up the slim hand again, Chris studied the peaceful-looking features of the man who, in such a short space of time, had become the most important thing in his life. Swallowing hard as he thought of the cruel injustice of the situation, the gunslinger continued talking.

"I guess I don't really know much about how things were for you afore you came t'town Vin, but I feel like you've been part of my life forever. I just feel like there's this strange kind of connection between us, almost like our souls are woven together making us complete, while keeping our own different identities. It scares me sometimes, but it's something that's worth fighting for. We're stronger together, and because of that we're gonna stand side by side and lick this thing. Hell, listen to me, pard. I'm spouting off and sounding just like Nathan!" Chris shook his head as he chuckled in disbelief at his deeply profound rhetoric, but he knew that there was more he needed to say; not only for his injured friend but also for his own peace of mind.

"I know that I don't really need to put into words how I feel and what we share. Hell, we can sit for hours, say nothing, and still have a conversation! Josiah would probably say that it's the will of God that we found each other, but you know I don't believe in all of that religious shit any more. It just seems to me that this is how things were meant to be. I haven't forgotten that promise I made to you, pard. When you're ready to clear your name in Tascosa, I'll do everything I can to help, and I know the rest of the fellas feel the same way."

Chris bent closer to his friend, affectionately smoothing the tracker's hair as he carried on talking. "I dunno if this is getting through to you, Vin, but I'm real sorry about what happened. I should've seen it coming and been there for you, protected you from that crazed bastard. They all keep telling me there was nothing I could've done, but it still doesn't change anything, does it?"

The gunslinger sat back again with a tired sigh, emotionally spent after his impassioned, one-sided conversation. Leaning his head against the padded covering on the rocker, he closed his eyes.

Chris woke with a start, realising he must have dozed off. Noticing that it was still reasonably light outside, he knew that he had not slept for very long. Getting to his feet he stretched carefully, mindful of his stiff and painful shoulder as he regarded his friend. With a puzzled frown, Chris leant over the man in the bed. Vin's left arm was now hanging over the side of the mattress, not lying flat down by his side where the gunslinger had previously placed it.

"Vin? Can you hear me, pard? Vin?"

Moving the hand into the correct position once again, the gunslinger bent over the younger man and put his ear to Vin's chest. The tracker's faint breathing pattern didn't seem any different to Chris; he would need Nathan to confirm whether the other's condition had altered in any way. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Chris went out and put fresh coffee on to brew. It would be getting dark within the hour, so he lit several lamps before pulling closed the curtains, and then hearing the pot gurgling on the stove, he went to pour a cup of coffee. Walking back to Vin's bed, he also lit the lamp on the side table next to his friend.

Chris' heart almost missed a beat as he glanced down at the tracker. Vin's left arm was now flung above his head, although this appeared to be the only indication of returning consciousness. Leaning over the comatose man, Chris tapped a pale cheek several times, his gentle actions at odds with the anger and forcefulness in his voice.

"Vin? Vin? It's Chris. Now you pin back them ears, and you listen to me damned good. I thought Tanners' were fighters not quitters, so you get those eyes open right now and talk t'me! I won't give you any peace until I hear your voice, so stop running out on me, and get your sorry, Texas ass back here with the living! Vin!"

Sitting once again and taking hold of the slack hand, the gunslinger began gently rubbing his friend's wrist, hoping that the massaging sensation would have an additional influence on the other man.

"Vin, I need you to wake up. C'mon, pard, don't leave us all now — not like this. There's too much to do together and I just haven't got the stomach to ride solo again. Vin? Vin!" Chris' voice had an even greater note of urgency in it, as he gripped his friend's hand tighter.

A warm gentle breeze stroked his face as his horse trotted through the long swaying grass, causing the sun-ripened seeds to swirl and dance around him like millions of tiny fireflies caught in golden sunshine. The scene around him as far as the eye could see was stunning, with gentle grassy valleys and hills leading up to snow capped mountains in the distance. A shimmering river was to his right, snaking away for miles until it disappeared from sight completely on the horizon. Trees and bushes in full leaf were dotted everywhere, but the one thing that all these features shared was their colour. The entire landscape was bathed in a glowing light brighter than sunlight, giving everything, including his horse, a warm golden hue.

There was a gut-wrenching sensation of affectionate familiarity about the black clad rider, and with an astonished gasp he was aware that the man was calling out to him. Without hesitation he kicked his horse into a gallop, panting heavily from the unexpected exertion, but determined to reach the man he now recognised as his closest friend.

"Vin! Vin! Can you hear me, pard? Vin!" Chris leaned closer, still holding the tracker's hand as he peered at his friend.

He heard his name being called as if from far away and, taking a deep breath, Vin carefully prised open his eyes. A bright, penetrating light caused him to slam them shut again with a small whimper and he quickly turned his head away from the brilliant glare, a movement that caused some discomfort to his injured shoulder. Slowly opening his eyes once again, the tracker blearily made out the concerned visage of Chris Larabee.

"Hey... cowboy!"

Vin's croaky voice was no more than a whisper and, with a tiny smile at his friend, he tightly gripped the older man's hand, as if clinging onto his only link with reality.

"Vin! Thank the Lord! You're awake at last! Hang on, pard, let me get you a drink." Chris reluctantly released the tracker's hand as he poured water into a cup. Unhooking his right arm from the sling, he gently supported the other's head, offering the cup to the younger man's lips.

The tracker drunk deeply, blinking several times as his vision misted a little. With a grateful sigh, he feebly pushed the cup away before wearily sinking back onto his pillow.

"Ya'd best... put that arm... back, Chris, or Nathan'll have yer hide!" Vin's raspy drawl was weak and husky from disuse, but the faint grin he gave his friend was something the gunslinger had thought he'd never see again.

Chris nodded ruefully as he eased his aching arm back into the sling. "Yeah. He sure gets riled up, when you don't... Vin! Dammit, pard! You can see!"

The gunslinger's ecstatic gasp tumbled out. Seizing his friend's hand once again, a wide smile lit up his face at the tracker's significant words. He couldn't quite believe the miracle that had just occurred and, the bitter anguish and misery he'd felt since his friend had been shot, suddenly melted away completely.

Vin nodded, smiling happily at the other. Things in the distance were still hazy and unfocussed, but he could make out quite a bit at close range, so he was optimistic that his eyesight would improve as time progressed. With a frown, the horrifying events at the hotel suddenly came flooding back to him and his smile quickly vanished.

"What's wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?" The worry in Chris' tone was unmistakable, and he suddenly wished Nathan would return.

"He said... ya were... dead, Chris! I couldn't get free to... t'find ya." Vin's mouth trembled, his blue eyes conveying the distress he felt, and he gulped noisily as the painful memory of the shooting threatened to engulf him.

Grasping the tracker's hand tightly as if willing his friend's anguish away, Chris shook his head. "It's okay now, Vin. Don't you worry about anything, y'hear? He's dead and buried. We've both been through a lotta pain and grief these last six days but we've survived, and we're stronger now — together as partners."

The two men gazed at each other in silent understanding. There was still much to resolve between them, but the pair knew they would now have time to repair any breaches that existed in their friendship.

Chris gave a lop-sided grin as he saw the tracker suddenly yawn. "We'll talk again later, but you ought to rest now. Nathan'll be back soon, and I know he'll go on summat fierce if I ain't given you any peace." Chris settled back into the chair with an elated sigh.

Keeping a firm hold on the gunslinger's hand, Vin relaxed against his pillow, a serene look on his face as he quickly slipped into an untroubled and healing sleep.

There was an almost tangible tranquillity in the clinic that afternoon, and Chris sat alone at the table contentedly sipping his coffee, as he waited for Vin Tanner to wake. The pounding tension headaches that had dogged the gunslinger since the beginning of the town's celebrations had now abated and the man was starting to feel more like his old self. His wounded shoulder still gave him some discomfort, but it was more of an annoyance than anything else, and he hadn't mentioned it to the pre-occupied healer.

When Nathan and Josiah had got back to the clinic the previous evening, they had found a tired, but exultant Chris Larabee still sitting at his sleeping friend's bedside. After the gunslinger had explained what had occurred the healer had quickly but thoroughly checked his slumbering patient, confirming that Vin's condition had improved considerably. The Texan had continued to sleep, finally waking some hours later and pleasing Nathan enormously by managing to eat some broth.

Josiah had immediately told the rest of the peacekeepers the good news but, as the small clinic began to get busy with the arrival of the other men, the healer had told them to limit their visits to the frail tracker. At one point in the evening all six men crowded around Vin's bed, expressing rowdy delight at the man's recovery, until Nathan had seen his patient looking overcome with a variety of emotions and struggling to keep a semblance of control. With the exception of Chris, the healer had ushered his friends out with a firm order that they shouldn't return to see the tracker until at least noon of the next day.

Following a restful night for all the clinics occupants, Vin had been able to eat some breakfast, sitting supported by a pile of pillows in his bed whilst Chris gave him the basic details of the harrowing incident at the hotel. Nathan, ever watchful of his patient's condition, had previously advised the older man not to go into specifics regarding the attack, having noticed that the tracker was unusually reticent to talk about what had occurred. The man's full recovery, both physically and mentally, would be a slow process, and the healer's frank comments in private to Chris that morning had left no doubt in the gunslinger's mind just how close to death his friend had been.

Picking up his cup, Chris wandered quietly in to sit at the tracker's bedside, not wanting the emotionally fragile man to find he was alone when he awoke. The area had been kept deliberately darkened by the healer as the light was still causing problems for the Texan's overly sensitive eyes, although Nathan had assured his younger friend that this was probably a temporary condition and would improve once the swelling around his face had completely subsided.

Vin was sleeping peacefully, propped in a semi-upright position with a light blanket draped around his shoulders, and he looked even younger now that he was washed and clean-shaven. Although some of his natural colouring had returned to his face, he still had the pinched, gaunt look of someone who had been seriously ill, and Nathan was continuing to keep a close eye on him. The tracker had spent most of the day drifting in and out of sleep and, with the absent healer's warnings still running through his mind, Chris could see that it would be some time before his friend was able to leave his sickbed. It was going to be a frustrating period of convalescence for the Texan; it would be many weeks before the man regained his stamina and be fit enough to resume his normal duties and pursuits.

A sighing exhalation caught Chris' attention and he peered intently at the tracker as the man began to stir. Mindful of Nathan's instructions to try and get his patient to drink as much as possible, the gunslinger reached across to pour water into a cup.

Blinking several times in confusion, Vin frowned as he tried to get his bearings, rubbing at his eyes briefly before his puzzled gaze rested on the concerned features of the gunslinger.

"You still here, cowboy?" Vin gave his friend a quirky grin, as he said the epithet that only he could use with impunity.

"Yeah. I've got permission from Nathan, y'know!" Chris grinned expansively. "C'mon pard, have a drink or he'll be riled at both of us — an' that ain't a pretty sight!"

Vin allowed the other man to help him sit up, giving a brief smile as Chris fussily plumped the pillows. Taking the offered cup, the tracker sipped the water thoughtfully. There were many things he wanted to discuss with his friend, but he wasn't really sure where to start. It seemed important that the other should know that he had planned to take his own life, but the only detail Vin wasn't prepared to tell the gunslinger was the agreement he'd made with Ezra. Vin was convinced that Chris would never be able to forgive the gambler for consenting to help him in his undertaking, even though this was what the Texan had desperately wanted. Passing the cup back to Chris, he gently fingered the Indian medicine pouch still tied to his right wrist, remembering fondly the first giver of the pouch nearly ten years previous.

"The Roanoke medicine must'a worked again. It's the second time this' helped me, an' I'm real happy that Ezra had the faith t'use it. I didn't think he truly believed it could do some good, y'know?" Vin cupped the small bag in his hand as he spoke.

"Yeah, Ezra's full o' surprises. He's a good man t'have as a friend," Chris replied dryly.

"Y'know, Chris, I really didn't think my sight 'ud come back. I know you all tried t'get me to be positive, but I felt trapped an' so alone." Vin's voice shook and he swallowed noisily, as the feelings of utter helplessness that he had felt at his continuing blindness suddenly resurfaced.

"You weren't alone, pard. We tried to be there for you, 'cos we knew you were suffering badly — inside here." The older man touched a finger briefly to the tracker's chest.

"I needed t'get revenge fer that poor gal, but when I got out on the street I was angry with everyone. Chris, I was so scared an' hurtin', but I couldn't talk to no-one an' that jes' made it worse." Vin bowed his head, fingering the medicine pouch as he tried to keep a firm control on his feelings.

The gunslinger leaned forward in his chair, as he slowly shook his head at his tormented friend. "Vin, there's no shame in being afraid. Lord, when I think what you've had to endure... I'm not sure I'd've been as brave as you were."

"But y'don't know what... Chris... I was gonna..." Vin's words halted and he looked away in self-disgust, unable to meet his friend's steady gaze.

"It helps to talk. You don't have to go through this alone. No-one's going to judge you, not now, not ever." Chris' quiet voice was compassionate, as he fleetingly touched the tracker's arm.

"I wanted t'die. Mebbe it's the cowards way out, but I couldn't live as a cripple, so I was gonna head out into the open an' find someplace to kill myself. I would've done it too, an' none of ya could've stopped me." Vin's left hand came up to mask his eyes, and bitter tears ran down his face as the painful emotions he'd held in check for nearly a week surged through him.

"Vin?" Chris put his hand on the tracker's leg, trying to convey his total understanding to his friend. The other didn't respond to the softly spoken query.

Getting to his feet, Chris perched on the mattress beside the distressed Texan, putting his arm protectively around the man's shoulders. The gunslinger felt a little self-conscious but, with everything that had happened to Vin, he instinctively sensed that the normally undemonstrative tracker needed to feel some type of physical comfort.

Several minutes passed, and Chris felt Vin take a deep shuddering breath before straightening a little. Realising that his friend was much calmer, the gunslinger released Vin, easing him back onto his pillows before picking up a cloth to wipe the other man's face.

As he studied the Texan, Chris gave a grim smile. "I gotta tell you, pard, but I did know what you had in mind. You didn't mean to, but it just kinda slipped out when you were all drugged up. Nathan and Josiah had already guessed though."

Vin rubbed his face tiredly, as he mulled over his friend's words. "Hmm. I thought I'd bin real careful, too. Reckon y'all know me better than I thought. Hell, I'm not sure I know as much 'bout me!" He gave a rueful laugh.

"There's more, Vin, and this part... it's not...well, let's just say it don't make me feel very proud." Chris fiddled with the cloth he still held, suddenly unwilling to meet his friend's puzzled gaze.

"C'mon, Chris. My confession was bad enough. How the hell could yours be any worse?" Vin tapped the mattress in front of the older man to emphasise his question.

Chris' explanation of the last few days wasn't going to be straightforward. He could hardly understand himself why he had been unable to sit with this man whom he regarded as his closest friend, and was at an even greater loss to know what did eventually make him change his mind and return to the clinic.

"Chris?" Vin momentarily touched the other man's hand, as he frowned in consternation.

"I'm sorry, pard. It's hard to explain, especially when I'm not sure of the answer myself. When you were unconscious, I couldn't bring myself to see you, or sit by you. I blamed myself for what happened — still do, in a way — but you were blind, and I knew what you planned to do, so I thought you had a right to choose your own way out. I was scared and angry. I didn't want you to die, but I felt... powerless to change things." Chris glanced at the other man, unsure what his friend's reaction would be.

"Ya weren't to blame, Chris. It was as if I was trapped somewhere and couldn't get out, but then I heard yer voice in m'head, cussin' and yelling at me. I saw the Larabee glare, too."

Vin gave a crooked grin, and tapped his friend's leg. "Jeez Chris, reckon the Devil must'a chucked me back on account of that look. You'd've gone tramping all through that fiery place, blazing icy looks outta those mean eyes of yours until the whole damn place was froze over! Satan hisself cain't even handle that!"

Chris chuckled heartily and shook his head in total bemusement. This man never ceased to amaze him! The gunslinger had truly believed that he would never hear his friend's ironic and sometimes bizarre sense of humour again, and this one small piece of banter now dispelled any dark shadows that might have remained. Then the gunslinger's face became serious once more. He still needed to explain how he had felt whilst Vin had lain in a coma.

"The rest of the fellas tried their damnedest to bring you back to your senses, but I was wrapped up in self-pity, being totally selfish and angrily pushing everyone away. I just couldn't see any way of helping you. There was so much pain inside me, and I lost track of what needed to be done. You wouldn't have faltered, I'm sure of that."

The honest conviction in the older man's voice sent a stab of pain through the tracker's gut. "Let's hope we never have to put it to the test, huh? Chris, it's all over now, and I don't want ya hangin' yer head over what ya did or didn't do. Ya may not think it yerself, but mebbe ya were helping by allowing me t'make my own choice. It doesn't really matter now though 'cos we're here together, an' we've got a whole heap of tomorrow's t'look forward to." Vin shrugged philosophically, as he smiled at the other man.

"It sounds like you've been listening to Josiah. That ain't a bad thing either. I must be a fool, y'know, 'cos I didn't realise how much this all meant to me until I'd almost lost it." Chris waved his hand back and forth in way of explanation.

"Hmm. I can feel it too — like yer part of something inside me. There's this invisible thread that kinda binds us together, and that brings out the best in both of us. Reckon all seven of us work well together, so it must be fate or summat," Vin murmured around a huge yawn. "Dammit! Wish I didn't feel so tired all the time."

Chris carefully pulled the pillows lower, assisting his friend as the weary tracker snuggled down further in the bed. "C'mon, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, and if you still want to talk... waal, we've got all the time in the world."

Vin's eyes closed as he quickly fell asleep, and the gunslinger stared at his slumbering friend with a satisfied smile. Chris sensed that the ongoing healing process for the tracker had been strengthened by their recent discussion and, feeling more at ease than he had for a long time, the gunslinger noiselessly left the darkened area.

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