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Michael Biehn Archive


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The characters belong to various production/film/TV companies. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I have to say THANK YOU again to my beta, Laura. She has really been there from the beginning. She is always there with comments, suggestions, and generally rallies me forth, and onwards.
Chris had been thinking on it for sometime now. The idea had been playing around and around in his head. What would Mary say? Would she let Billy spend some time with him? Or would she think that he was not the proper influence for her son?"

He'd grown very fond of the boy since first meeting him. Billy reminded him so much of Adam. It seemed these days that the boy was the only one for whom he tried not to be in a bad mood. And he was always in a bad mood. The boys could attest to that fact. He knew the reason. It was always the same reason. Sarah and Adam. God, had it been so long? How had he survived? Next week would have been Adam's birthday. Another birthday that he would not get to celebrate. It was almost four years since the fire. Four years since he'd lost the two people who meant the most to him, who loved him unconditionally. Long, lonely years while he'd stifled all those feelings that eventually made you hurt. He'd bottled them up and hidden them so deep; he'd almost forgotten their existence. During that time, Buck had been the only one who dared to hang around. He'd never understand why Buck had stuck it out. True, he had left eventually, but only after he had provoked him into it, and when they met up again it was as if no time had passed. He probably wouldn't have if the situations had been reversed, but Buck had and he was still here, watching his back.

When exactly had he started to change, and let people in again? Probably when he'd come to Four Corners. Things had started to change then. From the first time he and Vin had locked gazes, he knew that he'd found a friend. Words weren't needed that day to get things done, and they weren't needed now. Somehow there was a connection and somehow he'd gotten another pair of eyes to watch his back.

Lately little cracks had started to appear in his armor. He guessed that was why he was behaving like a caged grizzly. Like a caged, hungry grizzly, he amended with a wry grin on his face. He couldn't deal with that kind of hurt again. And without his armor, he'd be forced to feel. That was something he didn't think he could do again. Those kinds of feeling were liable to get you hurt. His thoughts were abruptly cut short by the sound of Mary's voice.

"Mr. Larabee?"

She thought she had seen him come upstairs to his room. She was sure he was in there. Maybe he just didn't want to answer. She decided to try one more time.

"Mr. Larabee? Chris? Are you there?" Mary called hesitantly. She knew he valued his privacy and protected it fiercely. She was just about to turn around and head back downstairs when she heard the door open.

"Mary." He said it quietly and it came out as a question. He had come out into the corridor and was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhm," Mary cleared her throat, "I needed to speak with you for a moment."

"Well, I was actually on my way to see you to ask for a favor." Chris was not accustomed to beating about the bush. He thought, might as well get it over with. Ain't no use in stretching it out.

Mary was surprised as she watched the play of emotions in Chris's eyes. She wondered if he knew they were there. He was normally so careful with any displays that she found herself eagerly awaiting his next words.

When he didn't continue, she pressed on, "Billy's grown very fond of you. Lately he doesn't start a sentence without attaching your name at the beginning. I understand that you have a lot of responsibilities, but I was wondering..." she paused, uncertain as to the reaction she would get.

"Mary, I enjoy spending time with Billy. He's smart and he's a wonderful kid..." he trailed off, thinking here goes, "and I was wondering if you'd allow him to spend a few days up at the cabin with me. I've been neglecting it lately and I thought it was due for some work and Billy and I could get some fishin' done..." he stopped when he saw the smile on Mary's face widen.

He couldn't help thinking, she sure lights up when she smiles. It's like she sparkles.

"Why, Mr. Larabee, it seems we've both been thinking along the same lines. I'm sure Billy would love that."

Chris dipped his head in acknowledgement and continued, "I was thinking we'd leave on Friday morning and I'd have him back here latest, Sunday afternoon."

"That's fine. Friday morning, then." Mary turned and headed down the corridor. As she went, she mused that's probably the longest I've heard him speak. Maybe... Wistfully she thought of the man in black. While they had not exactly hit it off when he'd first arrived; she'd lately found them travelling a different route. She had been unable to define her growing feelings. It had started with exasperation at his first clipped words to her, Lady, I am the bad element. Then it had gotten worse when she had tried to empathize with his loss. But it had started to change. She was at a loss to understand the exact nature of the attraction. He was so different from Stephen. Stephen had been sweet, loving, and safe. Mr. Larabee was definitely not safe. Was it the danger that seemed to go hand in hand with the man? There was no doubt that he was handsome, but Mary knew she wasn't just falling for a pretty face. He was fiercely loyal to his men and took his commitment to her father-in-law very seriously. Maybe it was her mothering instinct. Lord knows, he'd had a lot of sadness in his life. And even more painful for him, was the guilt he couldn't seem to overcome. She sighed and pushed these thoughts aside as she continued on her way. That was enough of such thoughts for today.

Chris watched Mary leave and shook his head, watch it, Larabee. She doesn't need you messing around in her life. He was not so sure that this was a safe path on which to be treading. Mary Travis and her son Billy seemed to be taking up permanent residence in his thoughts. At first, he had tried not to pay too much attention to his growing feelings. Lately though, it was becoming more and more of a challenge. Images of her seemed to constantly parade around in his head. Pretty soon he was going to have to make a decision.




Friday morning bustled in with a cool, sweet breeze blowing through Main Street. Billy was up and about early anxiously waiting for Chris. "C'mon, Mama. Chris will be here soon."

"I know, Billy. Now you mind what Chris says. Don't give him any trouble."

"Aw, Mama. I won't. Chris is going to let me help build his cabin. He told me so."

"Um-hmm, he told me too." Mary smiled. She hoped Chris knew what he was getting himself into.

Chris walked his horse over to The Clarion's office and hitched him to the railing outside. He walked up the steps, knocked lightly on the door, and stepped into the large room. Tipping his hat, he greeted Mary, "Ma'am... hi Billy, all ready to go?"

Running up to him and tightly hugging his left leg, Billy nodded his head. He slipped his tiny hand into Chris's larger one and started tugging him towards the door. "C'mon Chris!"

"I'll have him back by Sunday then," he promised, as he tossed a faint smile Mary's way.

Nathan and Buck watched Chris and Billy ride out of town. Buck, characteristically couldn't resist a comment.

"Don't know 'bout you, pardner, but looks to me like our Chris seems to be getting a lil' involved, wouldn't you say?"

"Now, Buck," Nathan chided, "you know Chris wouldn't want us mindin' his business."

"Who's mindin' his business? I'm just reading the signs. Since Vin ain't here, someone's gotta do it," he snorted.

"Why, Mr. Wilmington, I didn't know you cared so little for life and limb. I, myself do not wish to incur the wrath of our fearless leader, so I will reserve comment at this juncture." Ezra drawled as he walked up to the pair.

No one really paid much attention to the small man who made his way to the stable, settled his account, and quickly rode out. Hanson smiled to himself. Mission accomplished. He knew where Larabee was heading. Payton would be pleased. And there was a bonus in it for him because they wouldn't have to face the guns of his six lackeys. This was going to work out perfectly. No one would be any the wiser until Larabee and the kid didn't turn up on Sunday. The small man snickered gleefully to himself as he made time to camp.

He'd overheard Larabee telling the tracker to keep an eye on things until he got back. He'd reminded him to look in on some farmer and his brood who'd reported having some trouble with thieves- "more'n likely it was just some drifter but it always paid to be prepared," he'd said. Things appeared to be falling into place.

Coming to a stand of trees not too far outside Four Corners, Hanson reigned in his horse and dismounted. He looked around expectantly and soon four men who'd been hidden in the shadows emerged.

"Well..." Payton growled, "is Larabee there?"

Hanson rubbed his hands together as he explained all that he'd learned of the town, its inhabitants, and the deadly group of protectors led by a certain gunfighter who made sure that no harm befell either. With everything laid out, they began to make their plans. While Eric Payton was the bankroll behind this scheme and the man who had a score to settle, the real brains of the operation was John Hanson. He was the one who had found the men they now rode with, and it was his penchant for pain that had fuelled Payton's desire for revenge. They had met at a poker game back east and each had identified something in the other that was lacking in themselves. Payton was the locomotive and Hanson was the steam that kept it propelled ever forward, ever faster. With details worked out the men all mounted and urged their steeds in the direction that Chris and Billy had taken less than a half-hour ago.




Chris was lost in thought as they made their way to the cabin. That didn't stop young Billy from prattling non-stop about everything in his little boy world that he felt his hero should know. It didn't seem to faze him in the least that he was getting no response from Chris. Having the little boy sitting on his saddle with him brought back memories of Adam so vividly to his mind that for a moment Chris was lost in the past. It was with some effort that he strove to come back to the present.

He could never seem to erase those memories. Or the pain of them. Or the questions. Why hadn't he gotten there on time? Why did they have to die? Why did his wife and his little boy have to suffer? Why? He clenched his fists tighter on the reins and he felt Billy shift position.

Coming abruptly out of his memories, Chris relaxed his hold and gently ruffled Billy's hair with his right hand. He felt the soft breeze timidly lift his hair from his head and surrendered himself to the moment briefly. The morning sky was bright and blue, but in the distance he could see some rain clouds gathering. They seemed to be having a conference to decide if they wanted to ruin a perfectly good fishing day.

"You okay, pardner?" and as he felt Billy nod, he continued, "What do you think we should do first after we get things settled?"

"Maybe we could go fishing?" Billy suggested, as he looked adoringly up at his hero.

"I thought that might be your answer. All right, fishing it is. Let's hope those rain clouds don't blow our way."

The cabin had been Chris's first move toward putting the past behind him. He couldn't explain why he'd started the cabin. The only thing he knew was that it had felt good to be doing something with his hands other than killing. His reputation always proceeded him and there were always men out there who wanted to prove something. Prove that they were faster, tougher, better. Hell, he wasn't getting any younger. There would be someone, someday. C'mon Chris, snap out of it. You didn't bring Billy out here to be morbid. He mentally shook himself and then turned to Billy advising him that they would soon reach their destination.

As soon as they got to his cabin, and dismounted, Chris loosely wrapping the reins around the post, he began unpacking the supplies while Billy informed him that he would scout the area for any trouble.

"Sure, pardner, but don't go off too far. Remember, we have to catch our dinner or someone's going to be real hungry," he teased.

"Aww, Chris. I saw Momma pack some sandwiches. I'm just gonna look around, okay?"

Chris nodded and Billy scampered off to explore his idol's territory. It only took Chris a few minutes to neatly put away the few things he'd brought before heading outside with the two fishing poles he'd made in preparation for this visit. If there was one thing that Sarah had hated, it was a messy kitchen and she had taught her husband well. Too bad, the tidiness thing hadn't rubbed off on Buck, Chris thought as he remembered the one brief glimpse he'd had of the latter's room. He looked about for Billy but didn't see him and started to head towards the stream that ran alongside his property, wondering if Billy had headed there.

He immediately tensed as he heard the sound of a hammer being cocked.

"Larabee, I advise you to very slowly put your hands in the air and equally slowly, turn around if you don't want us to hurt this young man."

He did as he was told and dreaded the tableau he saw before him. There were four men; spread out to present a smaller target, all with their guns trained on him. A fifth man was holding Billy by his neck with one hand cruelly clamped over the boy's mouth.

"There's no cause to hurt the boy. It's me you want. Let him go."

"I'll not hurt the young gentleman. We couldn't have him warn you now, could we?" Hanson supplied as he released his hold on Billy's mouth while tightening his hold on his neck.

Chris was seeing red because it was all he could do to not lunge at the man holding Billy and let him feel the weight of his hands around his throat. Instead he settled for clenching his fists at his side as he again spoke, his voice a thick sneer devoid of all the other emotions he kept locked within.

"Let the boy go, mister. This fight is between you and me. Nothing to drag him into." His stare sent daggers into Hanson.

"Actually, I have no wish to fight with you. And I hardly think that you're in a position to dictate. However this young man may provide some entertainment for my friends." He laughed as he saw Chris's eyes narrow at his words and knew immediately what his captive was thinking.

"Uh, uh, uh, you don't want to do that. I could easily snap his neck and then what would you tell the widow Travis?"

Chris debated with himself the odds of the boy not getting hurt and came up with a no-win situation. Even if he dropped the man holding Billy, there were still the other four to think about. Billy chose that moment to struggle in the man's arm and Chris saw the already tight hold draw closer.

"Billy," Chris soothed, "Billy, listen to me. Keep still, Billy. I don't want these men to hurt you, okay?"

Billy's struggling quieted and then ceased.

"I'm scared, Chris." came his small voice.

"Don't worry, buddy. Everything's going to be okay."

"I quite agree, Mr. Larabee. Now if you would be so kind, unbuckle your gunbelt very slowly and turn around. We have a deal. Do as I say and no harm will come to the boy."

Chris did as instructed, all the while weighing the options, furiously tossing out one idea after another, until finally deciding that there wasn't one. He couldn't let anything happen to Billy. He couldn't chance any gunplay with Billy so vulnerable.

Damn, he was doing it again. He was putting someone else he cared about in danger. He had been careless. He should have known something was going on. He should have seen this coming. That was the last thought to run through his mind before the gun butt came down heavily on the side of his head. White stars exploded before his eyes and he fell heavily to the ground on his knees before collapsing face first to the ground

He was the only one who put such a burden on his shoulders. No one else would think to blame him, but guilt for Chris Larabee was a torturous second skin that was not easily shed.

While Chris lay in the dirt, one of the hired guns cruelly yanked his hands behind his back and bound them tightly with a strand of barbed wire. He also searched him to make sure he wasn't carrying any hidden weapons.

Hanson had let Billy go as soon as Larabee was incapacitated and Billy headed straight for his hero's side.

"Chris, " Billy whimpered as he gently passed his hands over Chris's forehead hopelessly trying to wipe off the blood that seemed to be freely flowing down the side of his face. "Wake up Chris, please wake up."

Chris's eyelids fluttered open and he blinked owlishly at Billy, trying to bring his hands up to his head because it hurt so much, only to realize that they were tied. He rolled to one side and looked up into Billy's tear-stained face quickly recalling what had happened.

"Hey, come on pardner. No need to cry. I'm okay." He grimaced in direct conflict to his statement.

Hanson walked up to him and said, "Time to go Larabee. We have a party planned for you and we don't want to be too late before that gang o' yours comes looking for you."

"What about the boy?" Chris gritted his teeth against the pain.

"I told you that we don't have need of the boy. We'll leave him here. Someone will be along presently when you don't show up." He motioned to one of his men to get Larabee on his feet, as he turned to mount his own horse.

"Let me just talk to the boy."

"No talking, Larabee." The man growled as he launched a bruising kick to his unprotected side.

Chris doubled up in pain as Payton shouted," There'll be enough time to do that later. Right now, we need to put as much distance between his pals and us before nightfall. Get him onto his horse."

As the man none too gently hauled Chris to his feet, he called out to Billy," Don't worry, son. Stay here. Don't wander off. There's food in the cabin. One of the guys will come for you, okay? Just stay here."

Billy stood looking with eyes opened so wide they seemed to swallow his face, but he nodded in response to Chris's instructions, and softly promised, "'kay, Chris."

Chris grunted in pain as the man roughly threw him over the saddle. "I can ride." He managed to ground out.

"Come, come, Larabee, knowing the resourceful man that you are, we want to give you as little opportunity as possible to cause us any trouble. Please accommodate us," was the ever so polite reply from the man who had issued the invitation to the party.

Even though Chris couldn't do much at present, he was busy trying to pick up any details that could help him when he decided to make his move. And he'd already decided that this man was by far the most dangerous of all. He would need to take him out first and fast when the time came.

Chris drifted in and out of consciousness on their journey. His head hurt, his side hurt, his hands hurt, and hanging upside down only exacerbated the situation. He kept thinking about Billy and how scared the little boy would be by himself. He'd already had so much hurt in his short life. He still didn't know who these guys were or what they had planned for him. One thing for sure, he knew he wasn't going to like it. Mary would never forgive him. She would never trust him with Billy again. These were the thoughts that kept him company on his journey, constantly playing over and over in his mind, whenever he was conscious.




Saturday morning dawned bright and breezy. As usual Vin was up and about with the dawn. This was the time of day he loved the best. He perched on the railing, sipping his coffee when he realized that Mary was apparently also up. He knew she was an early riser, what with the paper and all, but this was a little too early for her. He left the porch and sauntered over to The Clarion office. He rapped lightly on the door and grinned shyly when Mary opened the door and flashed him a puzzled look.

"Mornin' ma'am, couldn't help but notice the lights. Somethin' wrong?" Vin asked awkwardly.

He always felt like that around the widow, not that she'd ever done or said anything to make him feel uncomfortable. That was just the way he felt - all tongue-tied and all too aware of his inadequacies, in his eyes. He briefly pondered if this was any way close to how Chris felt when he had dealings with Mary. It was no secret to the men how their leader felt about this woman, and Vin was sure if Ezra felt that he could get away with it, he'd be taking bets on how long it took for the both of them to acknowledge that there was something more between them. With all of Chris's bite, Vin knew that the man was scared of even admitting that there was the vaguest hint of a relationship forming. He pushed those thoughts aside and focussed on the woman before him as she answered.

"No, Mr. Tanner. I'm fine. Just thought I'd get an early start on the paper so that I wouldn't feel guilty when I head out to take lunch for Billy and Mr. Larabee." Mary answered knowing full well that her secret was safe.


If there was anyone who spoke less than Chr--Mr. Larabee, she promptly corrected herself, it would be Vin. She felt in control again, and she took a deep breath. Recently her feelings had been taking her on a roller coaster ride. She hadn't been sure where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to do with these feelings. But Mary Travis was not an indecisive woman and she was unaccustomed to this uncertainty as far as a certain gunfighter was concerned. At first, it had been all that she could do to keep from attempting to wipe that smug smile off his annoyingly handsome face. In the months since he and his group had taken on the job of protecting her town, a kind of understanding had sprung up between them. She had made up her mind to explore these feelings. In her eyes, Chris had made a move by taking Billy off for the weekend. She thought it only fair that she reciprocate. And what was more innocent than taking them lunch. After all, they did need to eat, didn't they?

Vin, looking at the widow, recognized the determined gleam in her eyes and secretly smiled to himself. He hoped Chris could handle himself. He tipped his hat, wishing Mary a good day and headed back out the door in time to see the kind of sunrise that God made mornings for. As he stepped down off the boardwalk, he closed his eyes, tilted his head slightly upward and just enjoyed the feel of the breeze through his hair and on his face.

At about the same time, just over twenty miles away, in an abandoned barn on some long forsaken homestead, Chris Larabee was just coming to. His arms felt like they'd been pulled clean out of their sockets so he deduced that he'd been out of it for a while. The reason for his discomfort soon became apparent. He had been tied between two posts roughly three feet apart, and because he had been unconscious, his arms and wrists had borne the full weight of his body. There were dried bloodstains running from his wrists and disappearing under his shirtsleeves. He stiffly got to his feet and winced at the pain in his side. He almost regretted his decision for he was now sure that he had a couple of bruised ribs. After the initial pain retreated, he realized that he needed to take shallow breaths to ease the pain in his side. This undoubtedly meant that at least one rib was broken. He heard someone come into the barn and immediately shuttered all the pain as far away as possible. The infamous Larabee glare was fixed on his face as he awaited his captor.

"Well, well, Mr. Larabee, how nice of you to join us. I was beginning to wonder if we needed to go back for the boy to provide the entertainment," he paused before continuing with a sinister glower, "matter of fact, thought my boys could use the exercise, so I sent them back for him."

Chris fixed the man, Hanson with his glare and in a deadly monotone sneered,

"I'm tired of your little game. Why don't you untie me and we'll settle this like men?" Chris didn't want to let on how much the news affected him, so he greeted the new information as if it mattered little.

"I'm afraid that won't do. Eric has been thinking about this for so long. He has been ever so grateful that I provided him with the opportunity to fulfill his one dream. His one dream to see you suffer. I'm afraid that I can't oblige."

With that Hanson turned on his heel and strode briskly outside, leaving Chris alone again with his thoughts. He wondered how Billy was doing, all by himself in a strange place. It didn't make sense. Those men wouldn't have gone back to the cabin. They had to be trying to rattle him. He should never have thought about spending time with the boy. Hadn't he learned anything? A vision of his life with Sarah and Adam pressed in on him, overwhelming him with feelings of regret, pain and hopelessness. He was bringing the same danger into the lives of these innocents. If he got out of this alive, maybe it was time to move on. He couldn't and shouldn't do anything with these feelings that he harbored for Mary. It wasn't being fair to her, or Billy, or himself.

He had been so lost in his thoughts that Payton's voice close by startled him. And then he was completely pulled from his reverie by the bucket of cold water flung in his face. It cascaded down his black shirt, plastering it to his skin. He shivered from the cold but refused to let it control him. He lifted his eyes and stared into the hatred in the eyes of the madman before him. For that is what Payton was - a madman. His passion for revenge against Larabee seemed to have pushed him over the edge now that it was near completion. He had thought about it so hard and for so long that he didn't know how to deal with the reality of the hate now that he was face to face with it.

"Well, are you going to do something or are you just gonna stand there?" Larabee goaded.

"You've got balls, Larabee. I'll give you that. Wonder if you'll be so smart when I'm through with you."

"It's easy when you're dealing with fools." Chris replied almost disinterestedly, and immediately had to struggle to catch his breath when Payton punched him in the gut. "That the best you can do?" as soon as he was able to breathe comfortably.

Payton let out a booming laugh as he turned to Hanson, "John, I do believe that we are in for some sporting good fun. This was the best idea that you had."

John inclined his head, accepting the compliment, then walked across to stand in front of Chris. "I've heard a lot about you, Larabee. Heard that you got a lot of grit. I mean, here you are, a big gunfighter after you lost your wife and son. Most men mighta gone on half-heartedly, but not you. That's good. It means that I'm going to have that much more to whip outta you."

Chris's green eyes were filled with tightly controlled fury and rage as he concentrated on the man before him. Since he had first laid eyes on these men, he'd been trying to place them, but hadn't been successful as yet. They obviously knew him. His thoughts were interrupted by Hanson placing a hand on each forearm and yanking sharply down. Chris hissed in pain as the barbs bit into the already tender flesh of his wrists, sending tiny rivulets of blood trickling down to join the ones already there.

"C'mon Eric, we're wasting time. I want to get this over and done with before any of those friends of his come looking. We need to be as far away as possible when they show up. I don't think that they'll be very happy with our handiwork," he giggled; a very unexpected sound in that gloomy room, and Chris wondered if he was going to make it out of this.

He hadn't felt this hopeless before, not even in Jericho. He had known that the boys would come looking. This time was different though. They would miss him sooner, sure, but this time, these wardens were intent on inflicting hurt and pain and up to now, they hadn't given him any openings. He somehow felt that he was not going to be as fortunate this time around. The one good thing was that Billy had been spared. At least, he was betting on that being the case. Once he remained where he was, Buck or Vin would find him.

He pushed these thoughts aside though as Hanson produced a hunter's knife from his belt and moved around behind him. Chris tensed; willing himself not to look around, his shoulder blades knotted waiting for the slice he knew was coming. He was puzzled when the knife cut into his shirt and he felt the barest feather touch as the blade caressed his skin. Hanson laughed, an ugly sound.

"You didn't think we'd make it that easy, did you Larabee? Eric wants you to suffer, just like his little brother, and I aim to do my very best to please him," Hanson teased as he lightly ran the blade across Chris's back, leaving a blossoming line of red in its wake. "You don't even remember, do you?"

"No, I don't." Chris's tone of resignation was hard to miss, and for a moment it drew puzzled looks from both Payton and Hanson. These quickly faded to be replaced by knowing smiles.

"I got to hand it to you, Larabee. You use every trick in the book, don't you? Even had me fooled for a while there. Sounded downright penitent. Am I supposed to believe that you have repented your past?"

"Mister, I don't give a damn what you believe. I'm getting real tired of these foolish games. Let's just get on with it."

"Do you remember a little town called Silver Creek about two years ago?" Payton asked and continued without waiting for an answer. He seemed lost in the past as he spoke, his words conjuring up vivid scenes in his mind. "He was just a kid. Ian went into town that day to get supplies for our spread. I knew he had a little gal there that he would check out from time to time. You had no cause to interfere. You shot him, and then testified that he'd tried to rape that gal and murdered her brother." Payton practically spat the words at Chris. "He was sent to prison for having a little fun, like all young boys do. He didn't last six weeks there, Larabee. The warden had a special way of reforming his prisoners. He whipped it out of them."

At his last words, Payton spun around and collared Chris, shouting in his face, "Just like I'm gonna whip my retribution out of you!"

"That girl didn't think it was fun. Your brother was trying to take advantage of her and when she wouldn't go along, he started beating up on her. Her brother tried to stop him and Ian killed him in cold blood. I called him out." Chris paused, to lend conviction to his words," It was a fair fight. He got off pretty easy, as I recall. Only got what he deserved. Had no call to treat the lady that way and he turned mean when he couldn't get his way."

"Lady? She wasn't no lady. You got my brother killed and you're going to pay for that."

Payton's tale had awoken memories in Chris that he was not wont to remember. It brought back a time when he had been living and feeding solely off his anger. He had gone from one altercation to another, eagerly wishing that a bullet would end his suffering for him. It had been at this time that the legend of the cold-hearted, sure-sighted, deadly shootist had sprung up. If anyone got in his way, he would shoot them as soon as look at them. His name was usually spoken in whispers, and every town was glad to see the back of his long, black duster riding out of their town. He had cared for no one and no thing, and even less for himself.

The incident to which Payton referred had occurred not long after his final parting with Buck. He had been too blind with rage, and drunk out of his mind to fully appreciate that he had finally severed the long-standing friendship with his closest friend. For what had seemed forever, Buck had been there to pick up after him, and head off any trouble that Chris's death wish had landed him in. And suddenly, he was no longer there. When Chris had surfaced from his latest bout of drunkenness, he had headed straight for the saloon in a ferocious temper. The fates had apparently intervened that day. He had saved that girl's life, and would almost as surely have punished that boy with his guns.

But something had stayed his hand then. Something had tempered the rage that was his constant companion. These thoughts were his companion as Payton continued to rant about the unfair treatment of his younger brother. And they were what he focused on as the first, sharp bite of the rawhide burned into his skin.




Mary left town about eleven o'clock, thinking that the buggy would get her to the cabin right about lunchtime. She didn't want to appear too soon to cramp the boys' style. She grinned at the thought. Chris Larabee is definitely no boy. What would he do if he heard her refer to him like that? She blushed prettily as she shook off that image and turned her thoughts to the road ahead, unconscious of the many knowing looks that followed her.

Ezra had just come out of his saloon to join Buck and Josiah who were both lounging on the bench passing time with an old geezer, when he saw the buggy headed out of town.

"My, my, is not that a very peculiar sight? Quite makes me want to start laying odds, my good fellows. If only I were not truly afraid of permanent damage to my personage."

"Well, brother, let it not be said that the Lord does not work in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform."

"Whoooee, ain't that somethin'? I knew this was gonna be a good town. Looks like ole Chris done gone and got himself some of my magnetism. 'Bout time, too."




Chris came back to consciousness with his back on fire. The pain was intense and any movement sparked a new flame. He didn't know how long he'd been out, and he couldn't remember how long it had gone on. He'd lost all sense of anything after twenty-something.

He had seen Nathan's back some time ago and had wondered how he could have survived something like that and still be the kind of man that he was. How could that kind of hate and pain not scar you on the inside? He had an even greater appreciation of the man now than before.

He was on a slow burn. If he got half a chance, he was going to kill these two. He had eased himself up, trying not to aggravate his back. His wrists were now scored pieces of flesh, brutally rubbed raw by the wire and the continuous pull from the beating. Nathan is going to be pretty mad when he sees them. I could use some o' that willow bark tea of his right about now.

Chris immediately tensed when he heard the footsteps cross the barn.

"Ah, Larabee, you're up. That's good. I was just about to wake you up for your next dance. I'll just go see what's keeping Eric. Hang on for a bit, okay." he laughed as he made his way out, delighted at his clever pun.




When Mary arrived at the cabin, she climbed down from the buggy and just stood for a few moments, letting her eyes roam freely over the spot that Chris had chosen for his cabin. It was a pretty spot, well shaded by a few large trees but open enough to have the sunshine lovingly embrace it. She got the basket from the seat and made her way towards the cabin. It was really quiet, so she supposed they were off somewhere. Good, she'd be able to surprise them then.

She knocked lightly on the door and then cautiously opened it, eager to see the inside of the gunslinger's home. Her curiosity instantly piqued as she examined the inside. It was simple, but thoughtfully laid out. It somehow reminded her of Chris, himself - no fuss, no frills. She had just rested the basket on the table when she heard a soft whimper. Her heart immediately jumped to her mouth, eyes darting everywhere, searching for her little boy.

"Billy, where are you?" all the fear and worry evident in her tone.

"I'm here, Ma," he whispered as he crawled out from under the bed in the adjoining room.

"Billy, what's wrong? Where's Chris?" she cried as she clutched him to her bosom, and tilted his head towards her so that she could confirm that he was indeed all right.

"Ma, they took Chris. They hurt him real bad, ma. He was bleeding..."

Billy hardly had time to finish his sentence. Mary was holding his hand and leading him outside towards the buggy, worry etched on her face. God, please let him be okay.




When Hanson came back to the barn, Payton was in tow, eagerly looking at Chris, anticipating the next round that they had planned. This time Hanson was only wearing his shirt, having discarded his jacket, remarking that "whipping was such heated work."

Chris looked at him approaching and squinted to put the face into focus. His head was throbbing from the earlier blow and he found his vision suddenly blurring. Payton smacked him hard across the cheek, flinging his head viciously back. He blinked twice fast and their faces solidified, once more bringing his rage to the boil.

"Thought you were leaving us there, for a bit, Larabee. We can't have that. You're supposed to be paying attention." Payton's mocking voice filled his ears.

"Your brother was a murderer. He deserved what he got."

"And who do you think you are? Do you believe that you are any better than he was? How many men have you killed, Larabee? What gives you the right to say who deserves what?" He was furious that Larabee had taken the whipping and still seemed so in control. He wanted to destroy the man. And in that instant, it came to him, and he said the words that he knew would reach the gunslinger, "You are just as responsible for that young boy's death."

Normally Chris would have accepted those words for what they actually were: the ranting of a bitter, desperate man. But the words hit home. They were not intended to be a tool, but they had the desired effect. His injuries, blood loss, and guilt all combined to damage the self that he so jealously guarded. In that one moment, all that Chris had held onto since that tragic fire, to keep from sinking into the depths of torment, to keep him surviving, fled. And he was left with the sure knowledge that he was damned. He cried out, a strangled moan made strong with the rage that had been building inside.

"Just finish it! Get it over with!"

"We seem to have hit a nerve, John. But I find myself agreeing. Finish it." he said in a cold, dead voice that mirrored the depths of his eyes.

Hanson raised the corded braid high and brought it down hard on the already bloodied back of The Seven's leader. Chris flinched at the bite as his life fluid coursed down his back from the many welts left by the bullwhip on its previous journey, soaking into the waistband of his pants, staining the shiny silver clip.

He couldn't hold on any longer. Maybe I deserve this. All of this. He couldn't think straight anymore. It hurt. He just wanted to close his eyes and rest and not feel the constant pain that he had for these past few years. After all I tried, to prevent anyone else getting hurt because of me, I still failed. Dear God, why the boy? Why Billy? What would happen to Mary now? She had survived her husband's death, and the frontier. Would she survive her son's death? He had killed two people that he cared about, once again. Maybe it was time to let go.

And Chris Larabee did just that. He let go and the darkness nestled about him, eagerly laying claim, as to an errant lover. Even though he had passed out, Hanson continued issuing the rest of the intended forty-one strokes as Payton had planned - one for every day that his brother had spent in the confines of his prison. Chris was long past caring. He hung from the posts, body limp, gravity straining his brutally torn wrists.




Mary came flying into town like the proverbial bat out of hell. She jerked the buggy to a stop outside the saloon, and jumped down yelling for Vin, Buck, anyone.

"Whoa there, Mary. Calm down. Tell me what's happened."

Buck had been the first one by her side, and he now stood patiently by her side waiting for her to catch her breath. When he'd first heard the shouting, he'd thought, now yuh done it, Chris. Gone and gotten Mary worked into a fit. But as soon as he'd drawn nearer, he'd seen the panicked look on her face and knew with a cold certainty that Chris was in trouble. The feeling grew as he looked into her eyes and saw the fear. Only moments had passed, but all six were there, puzzled, wanting to know what had caused the uproar.

Mary took a deep breath and struggled for the control she knew so well. "I went to the cabin to take them some lunch. When I got there, I found Billy hiding. He said that some men had come and hurt Chris. They took him away."

She paused and looked to each man in turn; allowing them to see that she trusted them to get Chris back. Trusted them to make everything right.

"Mary, where's Billy?" Vin asked urgently as he silently thought damn Chris, how many enemies you got, pard?

"He's still in the buggy. He's scared."

But even as she said it, Billy came to stand besides her, placing his tiny hand in hers for strength.

"Hey there, pard. How many men were there?" Buck asked, stooping down so that he could look Billy straight in the eyes.

"Five," whispered the small voice.

"Did they say where they were taking him?"

Billy nodded. "To a party. But Chris was bleeding. He told me to stay there and that you'd come for me."

"Well, gentlemen, we don't seem to have a lot of time to spare. I suggest we ready our invitations and proceed to said party. Our fearless leader no doubt has need of our services."

"Let's ride boys!"

By the time Mary had taken Billy over to the Clarion office, the men were a distant shadow on the horizon.




"That's it then. It's done."

"It won't be done until he's dead. Is he?"

Hanson drew closer to where Chris hung unconscious, and felt his neck for any trace of a pulse. "Not yet, but soon. He can't last too long."

Hanson smiled as he thought of the man that was before him. Breaking them is always the best part, especially if they think they're strong. Since hooking up with Payton, he'd felt the urge to take this man down... hard. The more that he'd learnt about him, the more his desire to see him crumble. It was a perverse pleasure.

He reveled in the fact that he had made the great Chris Larabee crumble; and he admired the fact that the man had lasted so long and been able to throw in a few well-placed gibes along the way. He gave himself a pat on the back for using the threat to the boy. He had been right. One just had to know which button to push, and he considered himself an expert in the field. He briefly wondered how a one-on-one scenario would have played out; not seriously though, because he was too much of a coward to risk losing. And with Larabee, that might have been a distinct possibility. His thoughts turned to the gang that he commanded and Hanson found himself inexplicably uneasy. Maybe they shouldn't have let those men take off after getting Larabee. No worry. They'd be on their way soon enough.




The rest of the team followed Vin, depending on him to make the best time. And he, in his turn, pushed on determinedly. Those men had known what they were doing. They had to have realized that Chris wasn't expected until Sunday thereabouts, and they had nabbed him as soon as he'd reached the cabin. The only advantage they now held was the fact that they now knew something was up. Vin wasn't sure if that was enough time but he sure as hell didn't intend on losing his best friend just yet. Hang on, Chris. You can be real stubborn when you put your mind to it.

Damn it all to hell, Chris. Buck silently thought of his friend and the changes that he had seen wrought since coming to Four Corners. From that first moment, when he'd fell outta that window, right at the man's feet, he'd somehow sensed a change in Chris. The dark, all-consuming grief that he had last seen was somehow tempered. And Buck was truly happy. It had hurt him to see his friend bent on that path of self-destruction; and so he had gone his separate way a while back. But as fate would have it, they'd met up once again, and for that Buck was grateful. He fervently hoped that nothing would happen to mar this new side of the old Chris Larabee. We're comin' buddy. Just hang on.

They all reined in their mounts as Vin raised his hand and motioned to a clearing ahead. He quietly dismounted, dropping lightly to the ground on moccassined feet. He stealthily made his way forward, keeping low and moving fast. Whoever had taken Chris had headed here and in all likelihood was still here. He had counted six sets of tracks, so that meant there were at least five men with Chris. Billy had been right. The doors to the big shed were closed, so Vin couldn't be positive, but he suspected that that was where they were holding Chris. He turned slightly and motioned for the boys to spread out so that they could effectively cover the entire shed. Since they couldn't see inside, Vin decided on the direct approach.

"You in the shed, it's over! Come out with your hands up!"

"I thought you said they wouldn't come looking 'til Sunday," Payton hissed angrily.

"They shouldn't have. I don't know what went wrong."

They were well and truly caught. Their only bargaining chip, the slowly fading life of Chris Larabee.

"We have Larabee. Let us leave and you can have him." Hanson stalled, trying to find a way to lay the odds in his favour.

"Well gentlemen, it seems we have a deal," Ezra spoke up, "but we need to establish the quality of the merchandise. What say you? Let us see Mr. Larabee, and we may be more inclined to barter."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, all hell broke loose.

Hanson and Payton had decided that the only way out was with guns blazing. Hopefully with the men's thoughts on Larabee, they might be able to make a run for it. They both mounted and tore through the stable doors hoping to outrun the guns, but were savagely brought down in a hail of bullets. As soon as they fell, all six ran forward with Vin, Buck, and Nathan arriving first at the doorway.

"Chris?" Vin hesitantly called.

Getting no answer, they advanced further in. It was Nathan who spotted him first.

"Sweet Jesus, what did they do?"

It was all too obvious to the former slave who had been a witness to such beatings, as well as experiencing a few himself. They still didn't prepare him for the sight of Chris's torn flesh.

"Buck, Vin, help me get him down. Gently now, don't want to hurt him anymore'n we have to...." Nathan's voice trailed off as he took a deep breath to steady himself.

By this time, the others had filed in; JD held back the urge to retch, his nostrils filled with the fresh scent of blood... Chris's blood.

Josiah stepped quickly forward to help with the task of easing the still form of their leader to the ground.

It had taken some doing to unwind the barbed wire from around his wrists, but they were finally done.

For the briefest second, Ezra and Nathan locked eyes. This was a part of their world; a world that was slowly being erased. A past that had once threatened to overwhelm their present. A present that this man, who lay almost lifeless before them, had somehow created.

"Nathan?" Vin whispered, the one word a question, they all needed the answer to.

"Don't know as yet. Give me some room. Didn't come prepared for this. Gonna need some supplies from town."

"Can't we just take him back?" Ezra asked.

"Can't. Not now. I don't know if he'd survive the trip. Too risky. It'd be better to keep him here 'til I have a better idea of how he is. Lost a whole lot of blood. If that don't take him, and he makes it through the fever, we got a chance. But right now, I cain't make no promises or guesses. We'll jus' have to wait and see. Now, this is what I need..."

Vin was selected to ride to town for the needed supplies. His horse was the fastest, and aside from JD, he was the best horseman. He didn't want to leave his friend because he understood all too well the look on Nathan's face. He wasn't sure Chris was gonna make it. For a brief moment, Vin was torn between the desire to stay with his best friend to offer any possible comfort, and the need to get the medical supplies that might make the difference. It was but a moment's hesitation. He knew what he had to do, and was soon mounted and galloping toward town as fast as possible.

Josiah stood beside Nathan as he tended Chris as best as possible without his much-needed supplies. Nothing in his imagination had prepared him for exactly what Chris would need. Those bastards had certainly done a thorough job. There was hardly an unmarred bit of flesh on Chris's back and Nathan briefly let his mind wander to his past when this sight had not been an uncommon spectacle. The only difference then being the shade of the tortured skin.

Josiah laid his hand firmly on their healer's shoulder bringing him back to the moment. "Courage, old friend. We know you'll do your best."

"I cain't help it, Josiah. It brings back the hate so strong an' clear. I never stop wondering how a man can do this to another."

"Brother, if you had the answer to that, we wouldn't need to carry these guns."

Buck cleared his throat then and hesitantly asked Nathan how Chris was doing, all the while anxiously twirling his hat brim round and round.

"Not good. He hasn't stirred since we got to 'im and that's not a good sign." He pressed his hand to his lower face and tiredly wiped it. That one gesture added weight to his sombre words.

"Don't worry none too much, Nate. Ole Chris is a fighter. You know better'n any of us that he's as stubborn as they come."

"Normally, yeah. But that's just it. He don't seem to be fighting."




Mary was anxiously pacing the boardwalk outside her newspaper office as Vin rode into town. She ran down the stairs and straight across to Vin as he dismounted in front of Nathan's clinic.

"Vin, where're the others? Did you find Chris?"

"Mary, we found him. Nathan thinks it's best we not move him, so he sent me to get a few things."

Vin was already rushing past Mary up the stairs to the makeshift clinic.

Mary followed, concern evident in her voice, along with a rising note of panic, "How bad is it?" She had lifted her skirts and was keeping pace with Vin as he hustled up the stairs.

"I need to get something to use to protect a wound, but still let it breathe." Vin didn't want to waste time answering Mary's questions, but he knew the widow had some feelings for Chris. Feelings that were shared by the gunslinger even though not reciprocated.

As he moved about Nathan's, making sure he got everything, he tried to find the words to explain. His silence was more deafening than any words. Mary abruptly spun on her heels and headed home, as she left Vin to collect the supplies. Chris's life depended on it. Less than ten minutes later as Vin came down the stairs, he saw Mary purposefully striding towards him, leading her mount. She carried a small parcel in her hand.

"Mary, I don't think...", Vin began, stretching his hand out for the bundle. He didn't get a chance to finish.

Mary flashed him a silent appeal with her eyes and quietly said," I need to see him."




The ride to the outlying farm was strained, each rider lost in thought. As they rode into sight of the barn, she saw the other lawmen scattered about the yard.

"Please let him be alright." she prayed.

As they got closer, she saw the expression on their faces, and an icy hand seemed to clutch at her heart. She and Vin dismounted and hurried inside. Mary wasn't prepared for the sight and one hand went to her mouth to stifle the gasp, while the other circled her waist, trying to steady herself.

"Nate, how's he doing?" Vin found Chris in almost exactly the same position as when he'd left. He knew that couldn't be good, and he looked hopefully to Nathan to quell the gnawing feeling of dread he felt deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Not good. Did you get everything?" Nathan didn't wait for an answer as he searched for, found and set about applying the salve to Chris's back.

The action caused Mary to wince again and she quietly asked, to no one in particular, "My God, how could they have done this?"

If she were a woman who passionately displayed her emotions, this situation might have been tenable. As it was, she stood for a moment at a loss. She had never admitted her feelings for, and to this man. She'd never had the chance. And seeing him hurt this way, so still and broken, tore at her. She sank to her knees beside the still form and gently brushed a few strands of hair from his fevered brow, all the while praying that she would get the chance.

Buck came in at that moment and walked over to the small group.

"Any change?"

"No, and I'm real worried. He hasn't so much as stirred. I know he's got to be hurting real bad. He should've come 'round. We'll just have to wait it out. Give him 'til morning. We may have to chance moving him then." He didn't add if he makes it.

"Hey Chris, ole buddy, whatcha doing? The bad guys are all taken care of. We're just waiting for you, pard. Ezra's plumb loco thinking 'bout them card games he's missing. And you gotta know that Miss Milly is probably missing me somethin' fierce."

Buck had stooped down close to Chris and was quietly talking to him in the familiar way that he had. He and Chris had shared a lifetime together, almost. There were very few things that he didn't know about this man. He had been present for those giddy times when Sarah and Adam had shared his life. And he had been there to witness the dark passages that his soul had travelled since. Buck knew the cold fury and the deadly anger. Yet he also knew that they were tempered by compassion, fairness, and reason. He knew Chris to be a man of few words, who understood and embraced the beauty of the written word.

Heck, he remembered a time that Chris had memorized a poem to recite for Sarah on their anniversary. She had been tickled pink and blushed at her husband's pretty words. For a moment, the memory clouded the present, but he was brought back to the now by a soft sob from Mary.

As he placed a hand on the widow's shoulder to comfort her, he glanced across at Vin, sitting close by and whispered, "I don't know if he can hear me. Don't know if I can reach him."

"He'll hear, Buck. He has to."

The tracker hadn't said much since riding in with Nathan's supplies. He was not a man given to many words, and there were times when he wished that those words would come. Not as fancy as Ezra would have them, though. They were always present in his heart, but he had never had the need to express them before. Not until he had found this family of sorts. Family. That was how he had come to view these men. If he could have swapped places with Chris, he would have willingly done so. Without a second thought. And he knew that if the situation were reversed, Chris would be having the same thoughts. He knew that without a doubt. And with the uncanny knowledge that Vin had of men, it came to him that each of the men around him would do the same, unhesitatingly. They were indeed brothers in arms.

"What did you mean just now, Mr. Wilmington? About not knowing if you could reach him. You think he wants to die?" Mary asked, puzzled at Buck's words.

"Shoot, ma'am, who the hell knows what Chris wants?" his voice exploded, then he turned to Mary, aware of what he'd just said. "Pardon me, ma'am, didn't mean to mouth off."

"So you think Chris wants to die. Why? I don't understand. Please..."

"Ma'am, don't mind me. I ain't got the sense God gave a mule 'bout these things. I'm just blowing off some steam."

"No Buck, you sound like you know what you're talking 'bout. Maybe it'll help. You've known him the longest." Vin coaxed.

"It's just that Chris always seems to make himself responsible for everything and everyone around him. I've never seen a man shoulder blame so..." he paused, searching for the right word, which was naturally supplied by Ezra.

"Doggedly? Persistently? Determinedly?"

"Hel....yeah, sorry ma'am. Anythin' goes wrong, and Chris'll find some way to make it his fault. It's like he has to always be there to prevent anything from happening. Like he has to somehow make it up to Sarah and Adam, for not being there."

"That's a large burden to shoulder, and Brother Larabee does it so effortlessly, he may sometimes forget he's only a man, with a man's weaknesses." Josiah's soothing voice rumbled.

"Don't change the price o' beans none. We got to make him come outta it. I've done all I can do for his body, but he should have woke up by now."

Having said his piece, Nathan cast his gaze back to the corner where Chris lay on his stomach, his back covered by a fine piece of muslin to protect it from infection while allowing it to breathe. Both wrists were also swathed in bandages, soaked in a natural antiseptic. He had uttered neither word nor whimper since they'd cut him down and tended him. It was not a good sign, and it bothered Nathan more than the wounds on his friend's back.

Mary knew that she wanted to learn more about this man. He was such an enigma. So unlike Stephen. The reporter in her liked the idea of solving the puzzle that was Chris Larabee. But she had to admit, if only to herself for now, that it was far from being the only reason.

She had been at his side for the last half-hour, after urging Nathan to get some rest, and assuring him that she was quite capable of calling him if the need arose. It had given her the needed time to think on what Buck had told them. And she had come up with a few ideas of her own. If Chris Larabee thought she was going to let him go without a fight, then he had better think again.

She wrung the piece of cloth one more time, and placed it over his warm brow, lightly brushing a stray lock back. The lock of hair would soon be back though. It was awkward because they had to keep him on his stomach to protect his back from further injury. The scars on his back would be a permanent reminder, and Mary was determined that they be a reminder of the incredible will that she knew this man possessed.

She had seen it several times in the preceding months, sometimes directed at herself. She took a deep breath, and prepared to make the most of the time alone with the gunslinger.

"Chris, we," she paused, searching for the right way to begin, "all of us, need you. You've shown us that you are an honorable man, a man who is willing to stand and fight for what is right. These men have accepted you as their leader. It may be a burden. One that you probably get tired of, at times. But Chris, you can't just give up. These men depend on you. Billy looks up to you. You're his hero. He is so worried. He feels that he should have been able to help you. He's a pretty miserable little boy, right about now. I need you to wake up, and set him straight. For them, for me. Please, Chris."

She thought for a few moments, weighing the possible outcome of her words, before continuing.

"You once told me that I didn't understand what you went through, losing your wife and son. I don't think that was a fair statement. You don't have a monopoly on pain, or guilt. And I think it's high time that you stop behaving as if you do. You make me so mad, sometimes, Chris Larabee. Just when I think we're making some kind of progress, you shut me out. Why? You can't hold me at arms length forever. I am not a porcelain doll that will break, if handled roughly. I know the man you were, and I see the man you've become. I'm not afraid. I'm..."

At that moment, Mary heard the quiet footfall of one of the men as they approached.

"Any change?" It was Buck, looking as tired as his drooping moustache.

Mary couldn't suppress a slight grin. "No, Mr. Wilmington. He's been the same. I suppose the good news is that the fever hasn't taken a hold. Nathan got here in time. You don't look as if you had any rest though."

"Had me some shuteye. It was enough. Why don't you go and rest for a while? I'll look after him. Ain't the first time, and I know it won't be the last."

Mary wasn't sure if it was the real thing, or if Buck was forcing an optimistic front for her benefit. Either way, she didn't want to leave just yet, but she also didn't want to make a fuss. So, she reluctantly got up from Chris's side, and made her way to the little space that Ezra had thoughtfully blocked off for her with the aid of two horse blankets, and another pair of hands. Mary had watched as the two men went about setting up the small comfort, and marveled at just how close these men seemed. It was hard to believe that they were complete strangers not so long ago. And they were all, with the exception of Nathan and JD, dangerous men. Hard men, who owed their allegiance to no one, but themselves. And yet, they had banded together, to save Rain's village. And then, they had stayed on to protect her town. And through it all, Chris had led them. She had observed this group, and she knew that he was the one that held it together. The others had followed his lead. And he was a natural born leader. She pursed her lips together, as she tried to think of another word to describe them. Dangerous wasn't exactly right. At least, not for them.

It was perfect for Chris, though. It fit him to a 'T,' and it was probably the reason for her intense fascination. She drew her shoulders back, and shook her head slightly. No tangents, Mary, she chided herself. Like any truly great reporter, Mary couldn't leave it alone. She had to tell the story, because it was there to be told. She would worry at it, until every little detail was in place. It was the primary reason for most of their falling-outs. He was a leave well enough alone kind of man, unless it directly affected him, or went against that strict honor code of his. Honor was important to him, and it made him important to her. It was what had drawn her to Stephen, at first. Of course, what woman doesn't want a knight in shining armor? Complete with a chivalrous code of conduct, and the ability to back it up. She smiled when she thought of their encounter in the newspaper office that time. She had been a little afraid at the menacing Lady, I am the bad element. And then he had come riding back into town, and saved her father-in-law. Which brought her to another plus.

Orrin obviously trusted the man enough to put him in charge of the town. That, in itself, said a lot. Orrin was not a trusting soul. He was, after all, a judge, and accustomed to dealing with the dregs of humankind on a daily basis. That he felt safe enough, appointing these men as guardians of the town was a testament to them. And especially to Chris, the unacknowledged leader of the seven, at the time.

It was with this thought uppermost in her mind that Mary fell into a light doze. She had been up since before dawn, and the anxiety and exhaustion seemed to just creep up, and overtake her. One minute she was trying to unravel the mystery that was Chris Larabee, and the next, she was dreaming about said mystery.




She was able to get a couple of hours sleep before daybreak. On awakening, she immediately went to Chris's side to find Buck still in attendance.

"Any change?"

"No ma'am, he hasn't stirred an inch."

The rest of the men gradually awoke, each coming over to check on their leader. Nathan hovered anxiously, although he tried not to show it.

"Well, Nathan, do we move him?"

"Cain't see as we got a choice. Don't seem to have done 'im any good stayin' here." The healer's voice carried a note of defeat, which was not lost on his companions.

"Surely, my good man, you are not writing our leader out of the picture, as it were. Mr. Larabee is a man of great determination. He probably just conceded that this was an appropriate way of taking a hiatus of sorts from dealing with the likes of this band of scoundrels."

Ezra hoped that this were true. While he and Nathan did not see eye to eye on most things, Chris's lack of response was troubling. His expertise in reading men told him that Nathan was more than a little concerned about Chris.

Josiah just looked at the both of them, and smiled. Fancy Ezra trying to allay Nathan's fears. If this weren't such a grim situation, he might be forced to declare a minor miracle. Chris's condition bothered him. While they had not had many heart-to-heart talks, he saw a wounded spirit in Chris that somehow mirrored his own soul. The death of his family, and subsequent search for vengeance had left many scars. For Josiah, it was a different tragedy, which effected the same result. They both had had reason to question their God. While Josiah seemed to have more or less, found a path, rocky though it were, Chris still had difficulty manoeuvering about his obstacles. Josiah hadn't been too worried. He knew with time that things would work out. Leading the six of them had been Chris's first step in that direction. He just prayed that their leader would give himself that time.

"Josiah, you comin?"

Josiah was brought out of his reverie by Buck's voice right beside him. He cast a blank stare back at the ladies' man.

"Back to town, Josiah, to bring back the wagon. You, me an' Ezra. Vin, JD, an' Nathan'll stay with Chris just in case any of them fellas decide to head back this way. The town's been without us long enough. You'n Ez can stay while I bring the wagon back."

"I'm coming."




There was just the barest whisper of movement, and then Chris felt a welcome coolness on his brow. He was accustomed to sleeping lightly, and it bothered him that he wasn't able to immediately place where he was. Images were fuzzy, but he lay still and tried to sort through them for a reason to explain why he hurt like hell, and was laying on his stomach, not a natural position for a man with as many enemies as he had. The air smelled like early morning, and there was the faintest odor of rain. It came to him all at once, and it took all that he had, to stop from betraying that he was awake to the person who sat at his side tending him.

Payton and Hanson. My God, what had they done? He remembered them taunting him about Billy. Just before he passed out, they had said that he was responsible for that young boy's death. Billy. No, no, it couldn't be happening again. He couldn't stop the groan that issued from him then. He made to clench his fists, and was immediately stung by the pain from his wrists.

Immediately, hands tenderly brushed the hair from his face, and a voice, her voice gently spoke, "Chr... Mr. Larabee?"

There was no response, and for a moment Mary was left doubting herself. She briefly wondered if she had imagined the soft sound that she had just heard coming from the still form. "Chris? It's Mary. Are you awake? Come on, it's time to wake up. You can't sleep forever."

A pair of green eyes, which spoke of a burden of grief, slowly opened to meet the worried eyes of the very person he dreaded seeing.

"Mar...", he tried to say her name, but his throat felt like sandpaper. All he succeeded in doing was breaking into a bout of coughing, which only succeeded in pulling at the torn skin on his back, and bringing the men left hurrying over to his side.

"'Bout time you woke up. Take it easy. No, Chris, you cain't get up as yet. Just try to sip this. You're dry from all the blood you lost. You need to stay put for awhile. Build back up your blood."

Chris obviously wasn't having any of that. Even though the slightest movement caused his back and wrists agony, he pushed himself up from the bed, and turned on his side to get a better look at them all. Why were they all here? Why was she here? Didn't they know? Didn't they understand what had happened?

It was obvious from the pallor of his skin, and the sweat that seemed to simultaneously bead on his forehead and upper lip that the effort had cost him. In moving, Chris had opened several of the welts that Nathan had smoothed over with the salve. His wrists hadn't fared any better. The bandages were soaked through with red.

"Where," he began once more, and was immediately caught in another round of coughing, this one more violent than the last. His hand reflexively closed on the nearest item. He was completely unaware that it was Mary's hand, and she was surprised at his weak grip. She brought her free hand up, and rested it on his shoulder, lightly cradling his cheek, trying to impress upon him the need for stillness. As she tried to withdraw her hand from his grasp, he looked up, into her eyes. He couldn't read the fleeting emotion before they were quickly shuttered.

Then she dropped her gaze to his hand, before saying, "Chris, why don't you do what Nathan says?"

Nathan had come forward with a tin cup in his hand. "Chris, now don't try to talk. Here, drink some of this water. You have to take it slowly. Buck should be here with the wagon soon, and we'll get you back to town."

Chris acquiesced and began to sip the water slowly. The cool liquid slid down his parched throat, and Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. The job of seeing to these men, and tending their hurts was not an easy one. He believed that they all thought they were invincible, or so it seemed to him. Most of the time it was almost a fight to get them to follow simple instructions. Mary's quiet words seemed to have reached Chris though, because he didn't try to talk again. Instead, he lay back down on his side, and closed his eyes.

"That's right, you just take it easy, cowboy." Vin whispered.

All wasn't right with his friend. Vin could tell, from the way Chris held himself, that something was wrong, apart from his wounds. He seemed beaten almost. And, right about then, Vin wished that the two men that they'd found with Chris were still alive so that he could make them wish they weren't.

Mary, now that Chris was awake and had released her hand, suddenly felt a little awkward at his side. She quietly got up, and moved off, where she was joined by Vin, and Nathan.

JD, with the impetuousness of youth, had hurried outside to keep a lookout for the wagon, and to break the good news. "So, what d'you think's bothering him?"

"Don't rightly know, but somethin' sure is."




Chris, aware that Mary had moved off, turned his thoughts inward.

His back stung, and all movement caused him pain. Briefly, he wondered about Payton, and Hanson. But that was not uppermost in his mind.

He knew without a doubt that Mary couldn't face him. He was responsible for Billy not being here. The despair that had taken root at Payton's words blossomed in his soul. The only other time that he had felt like this was after Sarah and Adam had died. He wondered if he could make it through another. That last time he had barely been able to go on. In his mind, a mirthless laughter pealed. The incident that had begun his coping that time, had ended his coping here. It had come full circle. Josiah might probably have a good laugh over this, and get philosophical.

Coming to Four Corners had helped him to put the past behind. Mary had been an integral part of his recovery. He had started to hope again. He had started to believe that maybe life could go on. She had placed her town in his hands, and her trust in him. And he had repaid her by killing her son. He would have to leave.

With his decision made, he swung his feet off the makeshift cot, and sat up. The motion made him dizzy, and he almost toppled over, but righted himself in time, and dropped down onto the cot. The soft grunt alerted Nathan, and he and Vin were at Chris's side almost instantly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

No response.

"Chris, stay put, and let Nathan look at them welts. You just opened up 'bout half a dozen of 'em."

No response.

Chris sat on the edge of the cot, eyes squeezed tightly shut, riding out the pain. He could hear Vin and Nathan talking to him, but couldn't quite make out the words. He clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, and blew out a few short puffs of air, trying to manage the hurt.

When he was in control, he opened his eyes, and calmly asked Vin to get him a shirt. Vin placed his hand on Chris's shoulder.

"Chris, ain't you listening? You cain't go nowhere. You're in no condition. What's so damn important? I'll see to it."

The words were said quietly, but carried the weight of the tracker's loyalty. He could see his friend was hurting, but he couldn't understand why.

"Chris, I got more important things to do, than to patch you up, an' watch you undo everythin' I just did. You cain't put anythin' on that back. It's liable to get infected. Go on an' lay back down. Let me take a look."

"JD, get me a shirt."

Hearing the commotion, JD had come inside, and was surprised to see Chris sitting up, and Vin and Nathan on either side of him, exasperation painted on their faces. Mrs. Travis was a little way off, looking as puzzled as he felt.

Mary hadn't gone to his side with the others, because she had gotten the feeling that Chris had been uncomfortable with her just now. So she remained where she was.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Chris." JD swallowed hard as he looked at Chris's back. It looked even worse in the daylight. Many of the welts were bleeding. To JD, they looked awfully painful and he wondered how his hero could bear it and still manage to tick Nathan and Vin off.

"Fine, I'll get one myself," he said curtly. He had no idea if he could manage it, but he knew that he couldn't stay here. He had put those tears in Mary's eyes, and he couldn't bear to see those eyes accuse him.

To JD's ears, his hero's voice didn't manage to convey its usual tone of command. Instead, he found it carried strains of weariness, resignation, and loneliness.

"Chris," Vin didn't know what was eating at his friend, but he was damned sure gonna find out, "why don't you just lay back, and let Nathan look at your back?"

Instead of answering, Chris gritted his teeth against the bite of the pain that accompanied every move, and pushed off the edge of the cot with his wrists. A mistake. He was unable to stifle the soft groan that escaped his lips. A mere whisper of sound, but for a man who spoke little, and showed emotion even less, it conveyed the agony that the movement had cost. Chris was bound and determined to leave, though. They didn't want to help. Okay, he'd do it on his own. He'd done it before. It was the best way, the safest. That way no one else had to get hurt if he made a mistake. He debated telling Mary that he was sorry, but in the end, of what use was that? It wouldn't ease her pain, or bring Billy back. Best if he just leave.

He slowly shuffled around the barn, looking for his shirt. He eventually found it, in a heap, at the side of the posts where they'd probably discarded it before stringing him up. He had a hard time bending down to pick it up, before trying to put it on. After his second failed attempt, JD reluctantly moved forward to assist. A gruff "Thanks" was his reward, and then Chris was gingerly moving towards the entrance.

His eyes connected briefly with Mary's before he exited; Nathan's angry shout stirring the stillness, "You're a stubborn fool, Chris Larabee!" Nathan turned to Vin with one eyebrow raised, "Ain't you gonna follow him?"

"Don't reckon he wants any company."

Regardless, both men weren't far behind as Chris left the building; JD already having departed to ensure that his horse was saddled.

Mary remained where she was, trying to sift through a myriad of emotions. When she'd looked into Chris's eyes, in that brief instant before the shutters came down, she had seen something. And she now stood trying to decipher what exactly she had seen.

She couldn't understand his insistence to leave. Aggravation personified, that's what Chris Larabee was to her. Was it just yesterday that I thought things were looking hopeful? I should've just slapped that smug face when I had the chance. But even with these thoughts racing through her mind, she was trying to reason what had set him off, and in so doing, unconsciously moved to the doorway.

She could see Chris standing at his horse's side, with his head resting against the saddle, one hand loosely holding the saddle horn. He seemed to be gathering up his reserves before mounting. His grey shirt was already sticking to his back in places where the bleeding was heavier.

Vin was just cinching his saddle, planning to follow wherever Chris went, wanting to be there if he were in need of someone to catch him, should he fall. That was so like the tracker, Mary thought, he'd stick by Chris's side.

And running wasn't what Chris Larabee did. The more she thought on it, the more she puzzled as to why Chris seemed afraid to look at her. When he'd looked at her just now, it was with an intense sadness, and... guilt? Was it guilt? Why? He hadn't said where he was going, he hadn't said goodbye, he hadn't even asked for Billy.

Billy. And, in a sudden flash of intuition, Mary understood. She was out of the barn, and running towards Chris, in the next instant.

All three of the other peacekeepers turned towards her at the sound of her voice crying, "Chris! Wait!"

He had just tightened his hold on the pommel, and was about to pull himself up, when Mary called to him. He tensed, then took his foot out of the stirrup and turned slowly around to meet her. He didn't want it to be like this, but he owed her, at least this much. He owed it to her, to stand and face her.

Mary had reached him in a few moments, and when he turned around, her heart caught at the lines of pain and grief etched into his features. Right now, at this moment, all she wanted to do was hold onto him, and promise that he didn't have to go it alone. Something that he was too stubborn, and afraid to accept, just this minute.

She had to settle for a hand lightly resting on his arm, as she very gently asked, "Aren't you even going to tell Billy goodbye? He's been very worried about you since those men took you from the cabin. Felt he should've done something to help you."

Mary's words took a moment to reach Chris, but she saw the hurt and grief change to puzzlement, and finally give way to hope.

"Billy?" he whispered, afraid that he hadn't heard Mary correctly.

"Billy's fine, Chris. Now why don't you come back into the barn, and let Nathan take a look at you."

Looking into Chris's eyes just then, confirmed to Mary that she had been right in her assumption. She knew with an absolute certainty why she was willing to put her trust and heart in this man's hands. In that instant, his eyes came alive, and for a brief second, she saw the man that he had probably been before his tragedy. And she knew that she was willing to wait for him to work it out, to conquer his demons, and maybe understand that she would be there to help. Of course, she anticipated that half the fun was the journey getting there; and she knew that there'd be a lot of butting heads before that time came. She actually looked forward to it.

Chris, for his part, felt a sudden weight lifted from his shoulders. He had been prepared to bear that weight, but he was ecstatic that he didn't have to. Maybe that circle hadn't come full round as yet, and this was how it was meant to play out. Maybe he was getting another chance.

They had both started moving towards the barn, when the sound of the wagon reached them.

It wasn't long before Buck was jumping down, and hollering, "Chris, you old dog, I knew that you'd pull through."

The scene that he'd come upon finally registered; the saddled horses, the mere fact that Chris was on his feet, and looking like hell, and that Mary's hand was on his arm. He turned a puzzled grin on Vin, JD and Nathan, "Now, tell me, what'd I miss?"

Vin shrugged his shoulders, a mischievous grin on his face, JD shook his head, while Nathan's only response was a call to Chris, "C'mon, let's go in and take a look at that back, afore we head on out."

"Guys, come on, tell ole Buck what happened..."

THE END
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