Ezra sat up quickly and stared blearily around him, groaning as he realized he'd had another nightmare. Where was he? He couldn't remember what had... wait... his head turned slowly as he looked around, taking in his surroundings as he tried to recall where he was and why. A shape wrapped in a bedroll on the other side of a brightly blazing campfire... the soft whickering of their horses tethered a short distance away... the moonlit darkness that left shadows playing at the edge of the firelight. His gaze drifted back to the sleeping form across from him... Buck He was with Buck.
Finally he remembered. They had delivered a prisoner to Jasper and were on their way back home. This was their second night on the trail and they'd camped near a shallow stream amongst a grove of pine trees, choosing the spot because the pine needles carpeting the ground made their bedrolls a little softer, a little easier on their tired bodies.
Ezra stared into the fire, struggling to remember the details of his nightmare as he awaited the inevitable. Maybe he would get off lucky this time... maybe it would end with the dream. But just as the images from his nightmare began to dance across the fringes of his mind, he felt it... the first stab of pain... and he knew it was going to be like every other time... the headache was coming.
The gambler glanced once more over at Buck before quickly untangling himself from his blankets and rising unsteadily to his feet. Another pain struck just as he reached the shadows surrounding the camp site, and he stumbled as it momentarily blinded him with its ferocity. Ezra swallowed an anguished cry and clasped his head tightly in his hands as the pain seemed to rip through his skull, leaving him gasping for breath as he staggered away from the camp and made his way slowly toward the beckoning cool water of the stream.
Collapsing weakly on the thick grass that covered the banks of the creek, Ezra leaned forward and shakily scooped up some of the cold water, bathing his temples with it in an effort to ease the agony that was building there. As another pain lanced through him, he bit down on his lip, tearing the soft flesh in an attempt to muffle the groan that rose from deep in his throat. Ezra cried out weakly and then gagged as blood flooded his mouth and began trickling slowly down his chin. He raised his hand to wipe it away, but stopped and clutched desperately at his head as a continual wave of throbbing pain assaulted his senses... pounding relentlessly until his whole world was reduced to a single thought... <<make it stop... God, please just make it stop!>>
Buck stirred and stretched, his head emerging from the nest he'd made of his bedroll and blankets. He reached up and ran his hands across his face, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he looked around the camp. Something had woken him, but he wasn't sure what it had been. A sound? While his eyes scanned the area where the horses were staked out, his hands moved to buckle his gunbelt around his waist. Palming his Colt cautiously, he stood and moved around the campfire to where Ezra had been sleeping.
"Ezra... you awake?" Buck whispered as his eyes continued to search the darkness for anything moving. He listened carefully for a repeat of the sound that he was sure had awakened him as he nudged at the gambler's blankets with his foot. "Ezra...."
Buck risked a quick look down at Ezra's bedroll and started in surprise when he saw the blankets were thrown back, and the man was gone. Again his eyes scanned the darkness, now searching the shadows for any sign of his friend. "Ezra... where the hell are you?" His hoarse whisper went unanswered.
He started to move around the campfire toward the horses, but stopped suddenly as he heard a noise coming from the direction of the stream. He turned and began walking slowly along the path that led from their campsite toward the water... his eyes peering through the moonlight for any signs of the Southerner.
"Ezra, if you're out here you better not be gettin' ready to use that damned pea shooter on me." Buck paused for a moment as a low groan drifted across the night air. "Ezra? That you?" He listened carefully, a worried frown covering his face. "Come on, pard... talk to me, let me know where you are."
Buck's voice penetrated the haze of pain that Ezra was existing in, but the most he could manage in response was another low groan and a barely whispered, "Buck...." He'd left the campsite because he didn't want the gunfighter to see him like this, but the pain was so intense now that he was beyond caring who saw him suffering... he just wanted someone to make it go away.
Buck heard the groan and the gambler's voice whispering his name, and moved in the direction he thought the sounds had come from. His eyes carefully searched the creek bank and finally spotted Ezra curled up in a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around his head. Buck kept his gun ready and looked carefully around for any signs of trouble as he hurried over and knelt down next to the younger man who was rocking back and forth and moaning softly. "Ezra... can you hear me, pard? What happened... ya been shot?" He tried to pull Ezra's hands away from his head, but stopped when the Southerner cried out and tried to jerk away from him. Buck leaned down closer and whispered urgently in his friend's ear. "Come on now, Ezra,answer me! Did someone shoot ya?!"
"N-n-no... not sh-shot...." Ezra struggled to answer Buck as the pain continued to hold him in its grip. "H-head... ache...."
"Aw shit," Buck swore softly as he holstered his pistol and moved to try and help the gambler. His mother had suffered from crippling headaches when he was a young boy, and he could still remember how sick they had made her. Judging from the look of agony on Ezra's face, this one was every bit as bad, if not worse, than the ones she'd dealt with.
Buck untied his bandanna and dipped it in the cool creek to wet it, wringing out the excess before turning back to the semi-conscious Southerner. Sitting down beside him in the grass, the gunfighter fought to pull Ezra's arms away from his head.
"Come on, Ezra,let me help ya. Easy now." Buck managed to get the smaller man shifted around so that his head was laying in his lap, and after a brief struggle, got the gambler's wrists pinned against his chest with one hand so that he could run the cool, wet cloth across his forehead with the other. "Come on now, pard... quit fightin' me. I'm only tryin' to take care of ya."
Ezra knew Buck meant well, and he had to admit that the cold water felt good on his face, but he found it nearly impossible to lie still while the pain remained so intense. To top it all off, he was starting to feel sick to his stomach and didn't want to disgrace himself by throwing up on both of them.
Ezra turned his head slightly, and Buck frowned as the moonlight illuminated the gambler's face. He was white as a sheet and the pain was etched deeply into his handsome features. The pale light glistened on the mixture of sweat and tears that covered his face and on the thin line of blood trailing down his chin and neck. Buck used a corner of the bandanna to gently wipe away the crimson streak. "You're bleedin' a little here... did ya bite your tongue or somethin'?" he asked softly. "Ezra?"
"Lip... bit my...." Ezra tried to explain, and then moaned softly as the combination of the pain and the coppery taste of the blood slowly began to erode the control he was maintaining over his churning stomach.
Buck stared down at him and saw the pale face in his lap turn a decidedly unhealthy shade of green. "Damn, Ezra, you don't look so good... you gonna be sick?" Buck remembered his mother's headaches affecting her the same way and recognized the signs of what was about to happen. He felt the smaller man struggling to roll over and quickly helped him up onto his hands and knees. Buck knelt beside him and kept one arm around his middle while he supported his head with the other, grimacing in sympathy as he felt Ezra's stomach muscles clench with every wave of illness. "Just hang on, Ezra,it'll be over soon an' then you'll feel better."
Ezra knew Buck was right... knew the headache would immediately begin to ease as soon as he gave in to the nausea and emptied his stomach, but that didn't help the embarrassment he felt at throwing up in front of someone. No matter how comforting it was to have someone there and supporting him, he was still ashamed to be seen giving into such weakness.
The spasms finally stopped and Ezra struggled weakly against Buck's grip, trying to push himself up off the ground. The gunfighter released his hold on him, but stayed close... ready to help if he was needed. He watched as the gambler crawled to the edge of the stream, scooped up some water to wash his mouth out with, and then sat back down in the grass.
Ezra sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his head propped in his hands. His headache had eased considerably, and even though he was still feeling slightly nauseous and dizzy, he knew from past experience that all he needed was to stay quiet for a few minutes and that would pass also.
Buck sat down next to the younger man and began rubbing his back gently. "How ya doin' there, pard... is it any better?"
Ezra nodded, but wisely kept his head down as he quietly spoke. "I must apologize for that bit of unpleasantness, Mr. Wilmington... it's not somethin' I wished you to witness."
"Hell, Ezra, we all get sick at one time or another... ain't nothin' to be ashamed of." Buck retrieved his bandanna, rinsed it again in the creek and offered it to Ezra, who gratefully took it and wiped his face before pressing it against his still throbbing forehead. Buck resumed rubbing the smaller man's back, knowing it would help him to relax. "You get these headaches often?"
Ezra hesitated for a few seconds... he hated discussing himself or his problems, but he knew Buck only asked because he considered him a friend and was worried about him. "Occasionally." He hoped if he kept his answers short, the gunfighter would take the hint and not push him.
"They always this bad?" Buck smiled and shook his head. Getting Ezra to talk about himself was like pulling teeth, even for him. The relationship that had blossomed between he and the gambler after his accident hadn't diminished at all when Ezra had finally gotten his memory back... if anything, they'd grown even closer. Buck had broken down a lot of the walls that surrounded his friend, but the one that kept him from expressing his feelings and emotions was still pretty solid. He kept working at it though... determined to prove to Ezra that he could trust him with his heart... not just his life. Constantly battering away at those life-long defenses was hard work, but Buck knew the kind of friendship that waited for them when the last of the barriers finally came down would be well worth the effort. He wanted and needed that friendship, and deep down inside, he knew Ezra did, too.
Ezra heaved a sigh of exasperation. He should have known it wouldn't work. "Unfortunately... yes."
"Do ya know what sets 'em off?" Buck waited and when no answer was forthcoming, continued. "My ma used to get 'em, too... whenever the weather turned. Hers weren't quite as bad as yours, but bad enough to knock her off her feet for a spell."
Ezra had been determined to not answer any more questions, but Buck's hand rubbing large, slow circles on his back, and the quiet drone of his voice, were so soothing he was finding it hard to remember why he didn't want to talk to him.
"I had a nightmare," Ezra mumbled sleepily... then his eyes popped open as he realized what he'd said. <<Shit... why the hell did I say that?>>
"A nightmare... you remember what it was about?" Buck stared at the younger man, amazed that he had actually told him that much. He could tell by the way the muscles under his hand had tensed up that Ezra was equally surprised by his admission.
Ezra shook his head slowly and moved away from Buck's comforting touch. "No... nothin'. It was just a dream, that's all."
Suddenly Buck frowned as he remembered the horrible nightmare Ezra had experienced several times when he was still suffering from his amnesia. Could this be the same one? He wanted to ask the younger man if it had anything to do with his Uncle Matthew, but they'd agreed not to mention anything from that awful time after his accident unless Ezra brought it up first. He'd have to make sure he talked to Nathan when they got home. Buck had a feeling this was definitely something the healer needed to know about.
Ezra struggled to his feet and stood on shaky legs, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass before he headed back to the campsite, hoping that his insistent friend would take the hint and leave him alone.
"Easy there, pard." Buck rose with him and placed a steadying hand in the small of Ezra's back. He could feel the younger man trembling with the effort that it took for him to stay on his feet, and was ready to grab him if his legs gave out.
"I'm fine, Buck." Ezra shook off the gunfighter's help and slowly began making his way back along the path toward their camp. His legs threatened to fold under him with every step he took, but he just gritted his teeth and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
Buck shook his head and chuckled quietly at the stubborn determination his friend insisted on showing. He bent and grabbed his discarded bandanna, and then followed closely behind Ezra in case he needed him.
By the time Ezra made it back to the campfire, he had no choice but to accept Buck's assistance in lowering himself down onto his bedroll. He was even too tired to argue when the older man insisted on helping him stretch out and carefully pulled the blankets up around his shoulders, tucking him in securely.
"Get some rest, Ezra." Buck saw the gambler's head nod slightly as his eyes closed, and watched as he quickly drifted into an exhausted sleep.
Buck threw some wood on the fire to help ensure the Southerner stayed warm enough, and then settled himself in his own bedroll. He knew he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep though... he planned on keeping an eye on his friend, ready to wake him if the nightmare started again.
Buck blinked and stretched as the sun rising over the treetops struck his face, and then bolted upright as he realized he'd fallen asleep. His eyes immediately shot to the pile of blankets on the other side of the campfire, and a look of relief washed over his face as he saw Ezra still lying there sound asleep. The gunfighter pulled on his boots and moved over to squat down by the softly snoring gambler. He still didn't look too good... the dark circles under his eyes accentuated the unhealthy pallor of his skin and a grimace of pain crossed his face as Buck watched him. He decided to let the younger man sleep while he rustled up some breakfast and packed up the camp. They'd be getting a much later start than Buck had hoped for, but he knew Ezra needed as much rest as he could get in order to get through the long ride back to Four Corners.
Ezra woke slowly, started to stretch, but stopped suddenly as his stomach muscles protested. He lay still, his eyes closed tightly against the sun, and tried to remember why in heaven's name he felt this bad. He lifted one hand and probed delicately at his throbbing forehead... the skin actually felt bruised, but he knew it wasn't... knew that he'd had another nightmare and in turn, another headache. The gambler puzzled for a moment over the sore stomach muscles, and then the memory of disgracing himself in front of Buck came to him, and he groaned softly in embarrassment.
Suddenly a shadow passed between him and the sun, providing some relief to his sensitive eyes. He opened them just enough to see that it was Buck hovering over him that was giving him the shade he needed.
"What time is it?" Ezra mumbled, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his torn lip. He brought his fingers up to explore the damage, but was stopped when Buck gently pulled his hand away.
"Leave it alone. You bit through it when ya had that headache last night." Buck removed his hat and used it to add even more shade to Ezra's sensitive eyes. "It's around ten... how ya feelin'?"
Ezra ran a shaky hand across his eyes and blinked several times trying to clear his vision, but it remained slightly blurry no matter what he did. That was one of the worst headaches he'd had yet, and he knew he'd be suffering the aftereffects of it for several more hours.
"I have felt better, Mr. Wilmington, but I'm perfectly able to travel. Why didn't you awaken me sooner? Now we'll be late gettin' back, and Mr. Larabee will be imagining all sorts of dire predicaments I perhaps have gotten you into." Ezra pushed himself up into a sitting position, and held his head as he waited for the spinning to stop.
Buck laughed as he poured the gambler a cup of coffee. "Don't worry, pard, I'll make sure I get to Chris first and explain what happened before he takes your head off."
Ezra squinted up at Buck and reached for the steaming mug he held out. "Actually, Mr. Wilmington, I think I'd prefer that you let him take my head off instead... it would be a welcome relief to what I'm feelin' now."
Buck coaxed him into at least eating a biscuit, and then got himself some coffee and sat down beside Ezra, determined to get some answers out of him. "How long ya been havin' these nightmares?"
Ezra frowned at him and shook his head. "Buck, I—"
"Ezra... I thought ya agreed to talk to me if somethin' was wrong." Buck laid his hand on the younger man's arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "Sounds to me like ya need to talk to someone about this. I'm a good listener, pard, an' I promise it won't go no further 'less ya want it to."
Ezra stared at Buck for a few moments and then shifted his gaze to the mug he held cradled in his hands. As much as he hated to burden others with his problems, he knew Buck was right. The horrible dreams and accompanying headaches were getting to be more than he could handle on his own... maybe it would help to talk about them. Besides, ever since his accident he'd developed a closeness with Buck that didn't exist between he and the other five members of their group... one that he'd never felt with anyone else in his whole life. He couldn't really explain how it had happened, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that he did draw a vast amount of comfort from it.
The only drawback to their new relationship was that he seemed to have no resistance at all where the older man was concerned. Buck had only to smile at him and give him the 'but we're friends' speech, and Ezra was helpless to refuse whatever he asked. It had gotten him into a considerable amount of trouble occasionally, especially when it involved one of Buck's notorious practical jokes, but it had also given him a sense of belonging and companionship he'd never had before.
Ezra finally decided to confide in him... maybe Buck could help make some sense out of what was happening and help him figure out how to deal with it. Taking a deep breath, he began answering his questions.
"I've had them off and on for as long as I can remember, but they started comin' more frequently in the months before my accident." Ezra looked curiously over at the older man. Maybe since he was being so forthcoming, Buck would do the same. "Did I have any dreams while I was... incapacitated?"
Buck stared at him in surprise, he hadn't actually expected him to open up, and he really hadn't expected him to ask about his amnesia. He sat silently for a few moments, trying to decide how much to tell him. Nathan had told them that if Ezra did ask any questions, to keep their answers short and to the point, and to not give more information than he seemed to be asking for. For a talker like Buck, this was a hard order to follow, but he'd try to do his best. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Ezra in any way.
Sipping at his coffee to hide his nervousness, Buck nodded. "Ya had one or two. Are they always the same dream?"
Ezra shrugged. "They were before the headaches started, but now I can't remember anything after I have them, so I can't be certain if they are or not."
"When did ya start gettin' the headaches?" Buck stood up long enough to refill both their mugs and then settled back down beside the gambler. "Have ya told Nathan about 'em?"
Ezra grimaced at the mention of the healer. "I had the first one on the last night of our fishing trip... it wasn't nearly as intense as this one though." He glared at Buck for a moment before addressing the second part of his question. "And no, I have not confided in Mr. Jackson... and I expect you to refrain from doing so as well." Ezra saw an expression of hurt cross Buck's face and immediately regretted his somewhat peremptory demand for discretion.
"I promised ya I wouldn't tell anyone." Buck stared into Ezra's light green eyes and saw the guilt the gambler was feeling for doubting his friend for even a second.
"I'm sorry, Buck... I didn't mean to imply—" Ezra's apology was stopped when Buck slapped him gently on the back and shook his head at him.
"That's okay, Ezra, I know ya didn't mean nothin' by it." Buck smiled at the visible relief that washed over the younger man. "So... ya got any idea what these nightmares are about?"
Ezra frowned and stared thoughtfully into the fire. "I used to be able to remember bits and pieces, but that was before the headaches started. Now the pain hits as soon as I wake up and effectively wipes any memory of them away." Ezra kept his eyes averted as he hesitantly asked his next question. "Did I... did I say anything while I was havin' those nightmares you mentioned?"
Buck sighed... now that they were getting to the tough questions, he wished one of the others was there to help him. "Yeah, ya did, pard. It wasn't much, but we were able to make out a few things." Buck stopped, hoping Ezra would leave it at that, but he just wasn't that lucky.
Ezra merely looked at Buck, eyebrows raised questioningly, and waited. He was getting a little nervous over the other man's seeming reluctance to elaborate on his answers.
Buck watched Ezra carefully as he spoke, hoping that something he said might jog his memory. Maybe if they could figure out what they were about, the nightmares might stop altogether. "Well, ya mentioned somethin' about your Uncle Matthew an' asked someone not to leave ya there... then you called out somethin' that sounded like 'Manda. Does any of that ring a bell?"
Buck had watched Ezra's face pale slightly at the mention of his Uncle Matthew, but he had no reaction at all to the name 'Manda.
Ezra took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand over his face. "Uncle Matthew... that's who I was dreamin' about before my accident." He concentrated for a moment on the other name, but finally shook his head. "I don't seem to remember anyone named 'Manda though."
Buck could see that Ezra was having trouble dealing with the memory of his uncle and was worried that his trying to remember could bring on another headache. His eyes had taken on a haunted look identical to the one that had accompanied his nightmares when he was in the mind of Lit'l Ezra. Buck placed a calming hand on the Southerner's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Ya wanna stop for awhile, pard?"
Ezra gave Buck a grateful smile and nodded his head. "Thank you, Buck, I'd appreciate that, if you don't mind. Maybe we could continue our conversation later?"
Buck winked at the gambler and stood up. "Anytime ya want, Ezra, just let me know when you're ready, okay?"
Ezra nodded and slowly got to his feet. "I'll certainly do that, Buck. Now, maybe we'd better pack up our gear and head for home before Mr. Larabee sends out a search party for us."
"Ya sure you're up to ridin'?" Buck had seen Ezra rubbing his temples and eyes when the gambler thought he wasn't looking and knew he still wasn't feeling too well.
"Positive. I've just got a small remnant of the headache, and my vision's a bit blurry, but they should both clear up soon. Nothin' that will interfere with our trip back to Four Corners, I assure you." Ezra turned his back on the older man and began gathering up his things.
"Okay, Ezra, but you make sure an' say somethin' if ya need to stop an' rest." Buck still wasn't sure they shouldn't just stay where they were for another night, but there was no guarantee that Ezra wouldn't have another nightmare that left him feeling even worse. Better to just get him back to town so that he'd be near Nathan in case he needed his help.
Within the hour, they were back on their horses and headed home. Buck set a slow and easy pace and rode quietly beside his friend, which drew no complaints from Ezra. Buck had a feeling the younger man had downplayed the severity of his headache and didn't want to do anything that would aggravate it. But as soon as he got Ezra home and knew he was feeling better, he was going to do everything he could to talk the stubborn Southerner into telling Nathan what was happening to him. He needed help, and one way or another, Buck was going to make sure he got it.