Chris sat alone in his cabin. He had drunk enough to choke a small horse and the potions that Nathan had given him sat emptied on the table.

The rain made sounds on the roof and against the window panes. The longer he lived, the more difficult it became to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The pain, as of late, had become physical hence the need for the potions. He dare not tell Nathan that he mixed them with the whiskey he favored, but he found himself unable to do without both and at least the numbing effect it had on him made life borderline bearable.

He looked at his reflection in the windowpane and laughed with a bitterness that had come with time. He had managed to alienate everyone even his best friend.

How could he even begin to explain that it was this time of year that could fracture his image into the pieces of the broken glass that lay on the floor courtesy of his last binge.

He no longer really recognized the person in the reflection. Here in the solitude of his cabin he could acknowledge the grief that overwhelmed him. No matter how much he cared for Mary, he still loved his wife.

His wife of barely eight years. His wife who would still be young and carefree and beautiful as the day he last saw her. Not on the day they met, but on that last moment when he waved good-bye. That was when he was busting out with pride and joy at loving them. Adam who still had the joys of childhood and none of the bad memories that would eventually come with age.

He swore she was even more beautiful then, than when they first met. She had blossomed after their vows were exchanged. Now?

Now he had become the shadow of the man she once knew. Not the boy who had come back from the war, but this gunslinger who could be had for the right price and the right cause.

He still wore black and it was still his preference. He accepted it as part of his uniform. Only a few recognized it as the color that signified mourning. Surely no man of his stature would still carry a torch for a woman who had been dead for so long. The only one who knew was Buck. Buck had been with him when he buried them and when he had dug frantically for their bodies amidst the wreckage that was their home.

The memories and the pain from the injuries had caused him to mix the alcohol with the potions. He wanted to get numb. He wanted to find another way because he had grown so tired of living without her, without them by his side. He could not face another day...He could not face the day that was coming that meant another year had passed. He was still so desperately in love with his wife that although he had found comfort with Mary and a place in his heart for her boy, he couldn't relinquish the place that held Sarah.

This reverie wasn't doing him any good. It was only prolonging the inevitable. He felt numb and wasn't sure what was causing it. He merely welcomed it. That is until he looked in his reflection.

He swore he saw her standing there behind him. She looked so real that he could reach out and touch her. He moaned in anguish and felt himself reach for her.

What if she were here? What would be different? He would be more like Vin than Vin, but without the harmonica. He smiled inwardly at the thought. There were times when he envied the young man's love of life and knew that despite all the tracker had gone through, he had managed to find some joy and peace. The Indians must have given him some magic potion to some joy in life.

The last argument between him and Tanner had brought him here where the solitude and darkness welcomed him with open arms. He relished it and nothing disturbed his reverie except the noise from the rain and his memories.

Chris had done the impossible. He shut out his best friend to be alone with his grief and his memories of her. He shut the tracker out of his heart in order to wallow in his loss.

All he had wanted was a life with Sarah and the rest of the world be damned. Was it too much to ask for?
he thought to himself.

It was too soon; too close to the date all those years ago and yet as he looked back, how could the years have gone by?

He sat staring at the fire and could barely feel his hand holding the glass that had the potion mixed with whiskey. It didn't matter what the consequence, at least it would cause his mind to shut down. The problem was that it was transient. He would wake up reaching for and remembering her. He was still so deeply in love with his wife and that was all he wanted. He was no good to anyone.

Hell, he had tried on more than one occasion to take the nearest bullet, but not out of sacrifice, more out of a need to end it all in a blaze of glory. When he had stood there taking aim at Ella leaving him open for the shot that hit him and Vin yelling for Nathan, he had inwardly prayed for his demise. Yet some spark of life remained in him, and now he faced his demons and echoes alone.

"Sarah forgive me. I brought all this on you and despite my best efforts at self destruction, I'm still here instead of the hell that I deserve for having loved you. Maybe this is my punishment for loving you. Lord knows I was unworthy of someone like you loving me" he moaned in barely a whisper. He felt the tears fall from his eyes. He didn't bother wiping them away as they fell. He recalled what Josiah had said about them washing the soul, but that gave him no comfort. The anniversary was coming up. Only this anniversary brought no joy. It brought back the echoes of what he had with her.

It brought back the images of what could have been. He had dreamt of it more than once: of Sarah with a newborn suckling at her breast while Adam played with the horses Chris had carved. He swore he could feel her reach for him in the middle of the night. How could the pain still be as fresh as the day it happened? Moreso, because the shock had worn off and the ache more acute. If Mary felt this one tenth of what he felt, then pity the man who would walk toward her and...

No, he couldn't let himself think that. He knew that he was still hopelessly in love with his wife and that despite their relationship, she had moved on; he hadn't. The torch was burning more brightly than ever. His grief was that strong and the need that great. He wore the burden of responsibility like a suit of armor. He had occasionally let it down for her, but once the need was quenched, he placed it back on lest anyone see the cracks in the metal.

He stared into the flames and silently sobbed as he let the grief overtake him. He knew it wouldn't help any but he couldn't face the idea of keeping up the pretense any longer.

He heard a different sound and looked toward the door. He stood there with his fringe dripping water on the floor.

"I'm sorry Chris, I should've realized why you were shutting down. But you're not alone. How long has it been?" he asked as he shrugged out of his jacket.

"Too long and not long enough" he said as he took the bottle and poured the drink for the man who took off his boots and placed them by the door. He pointed toward the calender on the wall and the date circled. There inside the circle was a small number that was penciled in. He laughed bitterly as he looked at the number that was too small to see. He would never forget. If he lived to be as old as Methusalah, he would never forget nor forgive himself for the damage that was done.

"You've got to forgive yourself Cowboy" Vin said as he took the drink and tossed the liquid toward the fire. It sparked and crackled against the wood.

"Never." he said as he felt the numbness creep in to his limbs and winced at the smell of coffee being put on. "10 days from now or 10 years from now it will be the same." he said as he took the last swallow from his glass.

"Then I can't help you" Vin replied as he knew there was nothing more he could do for his friend. He grabbed his boots and put on his jacket as he walked out the door. He hoped his friend would follow but knew the man was too far in the bottle, lost in a grief that only he could know. No one could face the demons with him.

The sun slowly rose in the cloudy sky as he rode off, leaving the man alone to face his conscience and the ghosts that continued to haunt him all these years after the loss that was at the hands of a bitch by the name of Ella.

Until that was resolved. Vin knew that Chris could not lay down the burden that haunted him.