The saturated earth crumbled under the sliding soles of Chris Larabee's boots as he plastered his drenched body as tightly to the cliff side as possible. Clutching desperately with fingers already scraped raw, he managed to halt his downward slither. He could barely hear his own warning shouts over the cacophony of thunder and gunshots.

The closest of the six other muddy lumps clinging to the uncertain support shifted and twisted toward him. He met Vin's anxious blue eyes, veiled by the steady stream of water cascading over the drooping brim of the tracker's hat.

"We have to go down!" he yelled against the deafening roar of the storm, daring to free one clutching hand to gesture toward the bottom of the ravine. "They'll cut us to pieces up there!"

Vin's tight mouth twisted in a grimace of distaste, then he jerked his shaggy head in sharp assent, and turned back to signal to the other five. They all really knew that ‘up' wasn't an option, but ‘down' was decidedly unattractive. The hillside was rough and intermittently covered with small, tough shrubbery. The heavy rain had turned the usually rock-hard dirt to a sliding morass of treacherous deception. But there was no choice. ‘Down' was uncertain; ‘up' was deadly.

Chris watched long enough to see his six teammates all begin the descent, then closed his eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath before following.

Slowly, carefully they navigated the difficult cliff, a normally unpleasant task made miserable by the relentless assault of the rain and the occasional brief terror of passing bullets as their attackers attempted to pick them off from the rim above. Logically, he knew they couldn't hit anything significant under the circumstances, but that didn't stop the sounds of the bullets from raking already raw nerves.

The trek was endless. His arms burned with fatigue, assuming a disproportionate share of the task of supporting his weight as his mind persisted in the fear that the footing was too precarious to trust. Periodically, a startled or disgusted exclamation from one of his companions would reach him. J.D.'s "Shit!" as a fusillade of gunshots sounded from above; Buck's "Damn it to hell!" as his slick-soled boots slipped on the muddy terrain. And Ezra's surprisingly earthy comments as filthy water cascaded over the shoulders of his expensive jacket.

"Chris!"

He paused and looked down into Vin's upturned face. They'd all stopped, their bodies strung in a tight chain down the face of the cliff.

"Cut through…" Vin shouted against the rain, pointing to a narrow slit in the cliff face below them. "Reckon there might just be a cave at the bottom."

A wave of relief swept through Larabee. He could definitely find it in him to appreciate anything with a ceiling just now.

He nodded, shouting, "Okay, looks like we go single. Buck first, then J.D. and Ezra. You and me last." He waved broadly at the men further down the cliff. "Do it!"

The moments of waiting provided a blessed rest, easing the sharpening pain in the overstressed muscles of his arms and legs. He shook his head sharply in a vain attempt to clear some of the water from his vision, and watched as the others slowly, one at a time, crept downward into the crevice in the hillside. As Nathan and Josiah followed Ezra, he again caught Vin's eye, then jerked his chin toward Josiah's retreating shoulders and hat.

"You next, Pard," he called.

For a moment, Vin's anxious expression melted into a promise of pure mischief.

"I dunno, Cowboy. You reckon those old bones can hang on long enough? Maybe you should go first."

"Shut up, Vin, and get your scrawny carcass down to that cave!"

He was treated to a final glimpse of the tracker's lop-sided grin as Vin tucked his head down to follow Josiah. Chuckling, Chris forced his aching arms and legs to continue the painful crawl. He felt a momentary shiver creep down his spine as the walls of Vin's cut began to tighten on either side of him.

As he moved fully into the crevice, he heard Buck's jubilant confirmation that a cave awaited. Perhaps it was the relief momentarily shaking his concentration. Or maybe Vin was right, and his forty-year-old muscles betrayed him. Possibly he simply hit a particularly unstable section of the waterlogged hillside. But abruptly, his feet were sliding, his hands clutching in futile desperation at slimy, insubstantial mud.

Vin's shout registered just as Chris's slithering body slammed into the smaller man. He felt the jarring impacts as the two of them barreled into Josiah, then Nathan. Heard Ezra's indignant objection, J.D.'s shrill cry, and Buck's startled bellow.

As a tangled, bruised mass, they slid down the cut and into the mouth of the cave into… chaos.

+ + + + + + +

Gray. Bright and gray. And swimming.

Chris squeezed his eyes shut and rolled quickly to the side to avoid vomiting over the front of his shirt. Panting, he lay motionless as his stomach gradually settled.

Then he carefully slitted his eyes open. Still gray, bright, swimming. All around. Even underneath. His supporting hand sank into a soft… something. Firm enough to keep him semi-upright, but yielding. And gray.

"Hell!"

The familiar drawl soothed and calmed. Chris twisted around to see the rest of his team jumbled together on the strange surface, staring at their surroundings with eyes and mouths agape. There was no vestige of the muddy cliff visible. Or the cave, for that matter. Just the seemingly endless, constantly moving gray.

"C…Chris? What…?"

Chris shook his head and rose shakily to his feet. Absently, he noted that they were all dry and mud free. He rotated slowly around, trying to spot something that could serve as a landmark in the amorphous, murky atmosphere. Nothing. Although…

He stared intently into the mist, or whatever it was. Did he see figures, people in there? His hand reached for his holster, only to grasp empty air.

"Vin? You got your…"

"Nope." He felt the warmth of the Texan's body behind his right shoulder. "You… you figured out…?"

Chris grimaced slightly. He wasn't used to hearing that unsettled hesitancy in his friend's voice. Vin Tanner was a man who rarely found himself in a situation he didn't feel he could control.

Shaking his head, Chris gestured into the grayness. "You see anything in there? I mean, other than clouds, or whatever?"

Vin stepped up beside him and squinted in the direction Chris had indicated. After a long moment, he nodded in some surprise.

"Yeah. There's folks there. I think." He narrowed his eyes, brows furrowed. "Keep changin'—comin' and goin'."

"Hey!" Buck called, taking a few strides toward the veiled figures. "Hey, you people!"

Chris scowled at the big man's rashness. As they seemed to be mysteriously and distressingly unarmed, attracting the attention of potentially hostile strangers didn't strike him as a particularly good idea.

But Buck's call made no impact. The hazy figures just continued on with the rather frenzied activities which apparently held their ghostly attention.

"Chris?" J.D.'s voice was tight with fear. "Chris, they're over here, too."

The seven men moved instinctively closer together, gazing into the surrounding mists, realizing that the insubstantial figures were all around them, never clear, fading in and out. Most of them wearing strange garments and apparently totally unaware of the confused intruders.

Chris heard the soft thrum of Josiah's deep voice as the big man uttered unintelligible prayers. He felt the tremors running through Vin's body, and knew that identical shivers twitched up and down his own spine.

He'd faced dangers and disasters of almost all conceivable descriptions, but this was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. And he wasn't afraid to admit that he was good and scared.

A ripple and flash in the air beside him jerked Chris's attention away from the amorphous figures in the mist, as a sharp ‘pop!' and stomach-wrenching twist announced yet another impossibility. Abruptly, he found himself facing a reassuringly substantial object. Momentarily reassuring. Until he got a good look at the newcomer.

Tall. Really tall. A lot taller than Nate. And broad. And dressed in… well, he wasn't entirely sure just what the man was wearing.

"Oh, my. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Gentlemen, I am so sorry!" The fingers of both of the tall man's hands wriggled in front of his face, twitching and jerking. Chris felt a frisson of shock streak up his backbone at sight of the trails of light those fingertips left in seemingly empty air. The stranger's gaze was fixed on the ghostly imprints, his mouth pursed in mild distress. "Regularly scheduled repairs, you know… unavoidable. Conditions should have precluded… Oh my!"

The press of six bodies at his back was palpable. So just when did he get elected the man in front? He didn't recall any extra coins in his pay.

"Wh… what the hell's he doin'?" There was a distinct shake in Vin's gravelly voice. "How's he…"

"Ah, gentlemen. Such a mistake!" the man interrupted. "You weren't meant to arrive for quite a while." He shook his fingers sharply, the scattering sparks prompting small yelps from the tightly clustered seven.

The stranger smiled, finally looking directly at them as his hands dropped to his sides. "Maintenance was working on that intersection, and they… well, I guess you could say they accidentally left the door ajar." He winked mischievously, brows bobbing in an invitation to share his amusement. "Nobody figured anyone would be around there at that time, and in those conditions. Just goes to show, doesn't it?"

"Show what?" Vin slid carefully forward to stand at Chris's shoulder. "What the hell is this place? Who the hell are you?"

Chris matched the other man's harsh whisper. "And just how the hell did we get here?"

"Patience, patience." The stranger's hand waved dismissively. "All will be explained. Well… somewhat. Um… sort of. It's a bit… difficult."

"Then I suggest you proceed quickly, sir. Mr. Larabee is not generally renowned as a patient man." Trust Ezra. The man sounded like he'd been interrupted on a Sunday stroll.

"Well, you see… this place is a… well, I guess you could say it's a sort of waiting room."

"Waitin'? Waitin' fer what?"

"Umm… normally… well…" He waved a hand expansively. "Waiting to… move on."

Chris narrowed his eyes, feeling his discomfort shift toward anger. "Move on where?"

"You know… on!"

Chris felt Ezra's start. "You mean, as in deceased?"

The tall man grinned in delight. "Yes! Exactly!"

"Y…you mean… we're d…dead?" JD's voice quavered.

"Ah, well…" The man's grin faded to a droop of annoyance. "No. Not as such."

"Will you quit the hell spittin' shit and talk straight!"

Chris allowed his snarl to back up Vin's demand.

"Yes, yes, yes." The tall man was unfazed by growl or snarl. "You see, you aren't supposed to be here. Not yet. You slipped through a maintenance hatch and… here you are!"

"And…?" Ezra's smooth voice bore an unaccustomed edge.

"And we will return you to where you belong absolutely as quickly as it can be arranged." The man smiled triumphantly, clearly satisfied with his explanation and solution.

"And just how quickly might that be?" The edge sharpened.

"Ah, well, our workers have to do some nipping and tucking—make sure you stay where you belong once we send you back. I'll let you know." His fingers waved in the air, once again leaving trails and sparks behind. He studied the lingering glimmers for a moment, then nodded sharply. "Yes, yes. I'll let you know…"

Smiling benignly into Chris's glowering face, he waved a hand and… folded up. At least, that's what it looked like. There was a quick brush of air, a twisting of his body, and he was gone.

The seven stranded men stood perfectly still for the time it took to draw a long breath.

"Well, Pards," Buck drawled slowly, "I figure somebody dosed that last bottle of whiskey but good."

Josiah's deep chuckle answered. "Either that, or this is one hell of a dream."

Chris shook his head, still staring at the space vacated by the stranger. "No way in hell I could come up with a dream like this. In my worst days…"

"Hey! Look! There! And there!" JD frantically gestured toward the shifting figures in the mist.

"Huh? Calm down, Kid." Buck boldly waved a hand into the mist, his fingers passing unimpeded through the closest vaguely defined body. "Don't look like they can get at us."

"No! I mean… It's us! I saw us! There—looks like when we held up Guy Royal! And there—that's them two crazy female bounty hunters. And… hey, Ezra! Is that you wearing a table cloth?"

"Certainly not!" Ezra glanced sternly in Vin's direction. "Wearing a table cloth?"

Chris sensed Vin relax slightly beside him, felt the vibration of his body shaking in a silent chuckle.

"Goddam! He's right! Look, there's me fallin' out of Blossom's window, and…"

Chris tuned out the exclamations of the others as he concentrated on the shades and wraiths surrounding them. He found that as he concentrated, certain images and regions became more clear. JD was right. They were watching themselves, occupied in a jumble of activities, some recognized, some not. Six of them, spread out in a line and riding hell-for-leather for the stage that he knew was carrying JD away from them. Himself with Vin, sitting on a ridge in the wash of a vivid sunset. Nathan ministering to the residents of the Seminole village. The seven defending the small town in their care through the violence that was their way of life.

With a pang, he saw the shadow of himself with his wife and son, saw a very young Vin in beaded leather and moccasins, An equally young Josiah shielding the cringing body of a girl from a wrathful older man. And gradually, he saw other things. Himself, older, hair grayed at the temples, an unrecognized serenity overlaying the gleam in his eyes. A smile twitched the corners of his mouth at the sight of the slim, long-haired figure at this ghost-Chris's side, hand seemingly securely gripped on a still-straight shoulder. And JD, slightly paunchy, cuddling a pair of toddlers. Nathan, hair completely gray, shooting through a window.

What the hell was going on here?

And who…? Not all of the panoramas featured them. Or at least, not in any way he recognized. Their faces, yes, but in settings, and wearing clothing such as he'd never seen in his life. Rich satin coats, ragged, unknown uniforms, bizarre robes--dense, moist forests, huge stone halls and buildings that looked too delicate and graceful to survive being used. And some of the figures had faces as strange as the clothing, but still them. He know it in a way he couldn't possibly explain.

"God damn." Buck's shaken whisper spoke for them all.

Gradually, the chaotic scenes merged and faded until only one remained clear enough to make out. Them, fighting as they so often did. The scene was strangely unreal. It surrounded them, engulfed them without touching. They could see the guns firing, watch the recoil, even occasionally see the impact of the bullets. But nothing touched them, and there was no vestige of sound. Just the visual chaos of battle on all sides.

The seven of them… but not exactly. The clothing was strangely light-weight, close fitting. The Other-JD came momentarily into sharp focus, allowing them to see the strange soft shoes on his feet, and the odd shirt--buttonless, laceless, with short sleeves and something illegible written on its chest. Firing a gun of unrecognized design.

Other-JD faded and Other-Vin emerged. Chris heard Ezra's sharp, nervous laugh.

"Well, my friend, it seems a penchant for the high ground runs deep."

And indeed, Other-Vin, as his own Vin always preferred, was perched above the gunfight, seemingly floating over their heads, rifle in hand and obviously hot from use.

Other-Vin gave way to Other-Chris, a dark figure crouched behind wooden crates, gun in one hand as he apparently shouted into a small black object clutched in his other fist.

It was disturbingly both familiar and utterly foreign. He could feel the tense anxiety of the battle creeping into his joints, tightening and hardening muscles. Beside him, Vin shook his head slightly, blowing a harsh breath through his teeth.

"Shit! What the hell…"

Chris felt his hands clenching, nails digging into his palms. Instinctively, he crouched, flinching as phantom bullets whipped through the miasma. The growing tension clutched his throat, robbing him of air.

A sharp cry—he thought from Josiah—corresponded with his own reflexive drop to the ground, head down, arms flung up to shield his face.

Then stillness. The taut breathlessness snapped like fresh taffy.

"What the hell?"

His head jerked up at the words—so normal, bitten out in such a familiar voice, but from the wrong place. From the wrong familiar throat.

The phantoms had again faded into dim obscurity, all the sharp reality of the battle vanished. Except for the figure sprawled before them, arms and legs akimbo, hair tousled, amazingly blue eyes wide with shock.

Slowly, the seven stood and gathered into a tight row, shoulders pressed together as they stared down at an impossibility.

Chris knew his own face wore an expression of gape-mouthed stupidity. Knew it because he could see that same imbecilic face mirrored on the other six.

After a long, frozen moment, the eighth man carefully gathered himself and rose to his feet, gaze unwaveringly fixed on the man who stood at Chris's right.

Slowly, cautiously, Vin took a step forward, eyes as fixed as the other man's.

The other Vin's.

Chris shook his head sharply. Holy shit.

They were the same, yet not. Same vivid blue eyes, same razor-sharp jawline, same features, same hair, same lean, whipcord body.

But this new Vin was… softer. Less a man of the shadows. And a hell of a lot cleaner. His long hair was glossy and smooth, his jaw innocent of the scruffy half-beard that Chris's own Vin affected. The strange, pale blue trousers and white shirt were free of the dust and wear that seemed indelibly part of Vin's normal appearance. And the only leather visible was the belt around his narrow waist. A waist that, like the rest of him, seemed too small. Without the oversized buffalo coat and shielding hat, he looked too slight, too insubstantial.

And too young. Chris had always been vaguely aware that his Vin was younger than he seemed. Seeing this boy jarred his comfortable perception of his partner.

For a timeless moment, the two not-quite-mirror images stared at each other. Then Young-Vin broke the frozen tableau, lifting one long-fingered hand to reach out to his counterpart. The fingertips paused a fraction of an inch away from a whiskered cheek, then drifted to almost touch wide lips, tip of nose, shaggy, unkempt hair.

"Wh… who the hell…" The whispered voice shook. "You… you're me. But…"

Vin reached up to grip the other's wrist, stilling that hand. "Name's Tanner."

Young-Vin jerked slightly, shaking his head in gentle bemusement. "Vin Tanner."

"Yep." Vin released the other man's hand.

Young-Vin finally tore his eyes away from his other self, gazing down the line of men ranged behind Vin.

"Oh, God. All of you."

Chris felt that jolt of instant connection as the blue eyes met his. Just the same.

"Chris."

He nodded silently.

"But… You look like you're playin' dressup! Where the hell'd ya get them clothes!"

Chris glanced at his own Vin, cocking an eyebrow. "Well, we could ask you the same thing. Never seen trousers like those before. And your shoes…"

Young-Vin looked down at his white footwear in confusion. "My sneakers?"

"Did you say… sneakers?" Ezra produced a sound suspiciously more like a snort than the man would ever admit to making.

Young-Vin scowled at the gambler. "Yeah. I know you wouldn't be caught dead wearin' ‘em in public, but I know ya got a pair stashed in the closet of that fancy condo."

"My dear Mr. … Tanner, I would never consent to wear any article of supposed clothing which suffered under the unfortunate sobriquet ‘sneakers'!"

Young-Vin's lips twitched. "You're Ez, all right."

"I beg your pardon? What did you call me?"

"Enough!" Chris moved between the gambler and the newcomer. "I want to know just what's goin' on here! You look like Vin, but you can't be him. He's standin' right here."

Young-Vin turned to stare again at Chris's Vin. "I'm Vin Tanner. T' hell makes you figure he's the real thing?"

Vin tilted his head in that way Chris knew meant trouble for Chris Larabee. His usually too-old blue eyes were lit with that spark of mischief.

"I'd say two's better'n one."

Young-Vin's eyes widened. Then his mouth quirked into that so-familiar lop-sided grin. Oh, yes, very bad news for Chris Larabee. He stepped closer to his double, cocking his head at a matching angle, then turned to stand beside the other man, grinning at Chris. "Reckon you could just be right."

"Oh, hell! Now wait a minute…"

A stomach-wrenching pop and twist heralded the return of their previous visitor. Young-Vin started back, tripping and landing on his butt. The grin had vanished.

"What the hell kinda place is this!"

"Ah, there you are! How did you go astray, my dear?"

"Who the fuck wants to know?" The high quaver was back in the young man's voice.

"Now, now. Calmly, calmly. You are most welcome here, my dear. Though you shouldn't have…" The tall man's eyes widened as he glanced at Vin, then back at Young-Vin. "Oh, my! Most extraordinary!"

His fingers once again began that sparkling, eerie dance before his concentrated gaze.

"Oh. Oh! My, my, how wonderful!" The hands shook briskly, scattering sparks as before, and he turned back to face Chris and the five men ranged behind him. "Do forgive me for not realizing! And you…" He spun back to face Young-Vin. "This explains it!"

Young-Vin's shock had yielded to a fierce scowl. "Ain't nothin' been ‘explained' here! What the hell is this place; who are these guys?" He lurched to his feet, advancing on the tall man. "And why the hell am I here when I should be watchin' my team's backs!"

"Gently, my dear. You…" His hand swept to encompass all of them. "You seven… you're the seven. The heroes. I'm so embarrassed to have failed to realize…" His voice sounded distressed. "And so honored to be the one to host you, however briefly."

Chris rubbed his fisted hand against his forehead. "Heroes? What the hell are you talking about?"

The tall man smiled expansively and waved his hand in a broad gesture. In the wake of his fingers, the figures once again emerged from the misty background in all the myriad diversity of the earlier images. All of those not-quite-them ghosts, involved in their mysterious, busy tasks.

"You, gentlemen. All of you. Seven heroic souls, reborn countless times, nearly always together and fated to achieve extraordinary feats!" He sighed blissfully. "The heroes. And in my carel!"

"We ain't no heroes," Nate insisted. He waved his hat, tightly clutched in his hand, at his six friends. "We're just seven men tryin' our best to protect a no-account town in the middle o' nowhere."

"Ah, Mr. Jackson. The tasks of heroes come large and small. Some change worlds, some just a few lives. Some… well, some save one worthy life from an unjust hanging." He smiled benevolently at the flush that darkened Nathan's cheeks. "Some use gifted hands to hold death at bay against all odds."

"Ahhh…" Josiah's eyes were unfocused, his mouth curved into a bemused, faraway smile. "Such a fascinating concept! Souls reborn, lives relived." His gaze abruptly sharpened, directed at Chris and Vin. "Could explain some mighty surprising things."

Chris shook his head sharply. "Whatever you say. It really don't matter. You…" He thrust his finger at the tall man. "You said we ended up here by accident. What about him?"

All eyes shifted to focus on Young-Vin, who was staring wide-mouthed at the panoramic epics playing out through the mist.

"Ah." The tall man's expression gentled. "Vin, my dear…" He dropped his hand on Young-Vin's shoulder, only to be thrust away by the startled man. "Your arrival was no accident, though I was surprised to find you here, rather than in the assessment room which had been prepared."

Young-Vin backed away. "What the hell d'you mean? No accident? Assessment? I still ain't heard what this place is."

The tall man shook his head slightly, then again waved his hand. The multitude of scenes once again narrowed to one.

As strange as their current environment was, the displayed room was somehow more bizarre. Pale walls, a bed, a chair. Two men. Starkly white linens and barred sides on the bed. And an array of objects completely foreign to Chris's experience. Machines, he thought, some blinking, some with wavy moving lines. And tubes and wires all the hell over the place.

Unfamiliar as the room was, the two people were disturbingly familiar. In the chair, that Other-Chris from the earlier performance. In the bed, nested in that terrifying array of apparatus, Vin. He knew with total conviction, it was the Young-Vin who now stood surrounded by Chris and the rest of the seven.

"What…?" Young-Vin reached out, fingers passing without resistance through the bowed head of Other-Chris.

"I'm sorry, you can't touch him."

"Chris?" The word was a small whisper.

Other-Chris showed no sign of hearing. Even in the soundless, misty play, his grief was palpable. As they watched, he lifted his head, revealing reddened eyes and damp cheeks. Gently, he reached through the bars and wrapped his fingers around the unmoving fingers of the man in the bed. His mouth moved—they could see Vin's name on his lips. But no sound reached them.

"Chris!" Young-Vin's voice rose. "Chris, I'm right here!"

When Other-Chris displayed no reaction to his voice, he turned around to face the tall man.

"F'r the last goddam time, tell me what the hell is goin' on here!"

"I'm sorry, dear Vin, but you are dying."

"What? I ain't the fuck dyin', you asshole! I'm right here! I'm just fine!"

The tall man's head was shaking slowly. "I know it's difficult to adjust. And you've had a few additional shocks which our visitors don't usually experience. But you were badly injured, and your body is dying."

"No! I'd know the hell if I was dyin'! I'm fine!" He twisted back around and dropped to his knees on the yielding surface. His hands reached out toward Other-Chris, thrusting into the amorphous figure's chest.

"Chris! I'm right here, Chris. I ain't dyin'! I promised—ain't goin' nowhere without you! Chris!"

"My word!" the tall man exclaimed.

Other-Chris's head lifted, his brow furrowing in puzzled confusion. His gaze shifted toward the slack face of the man on the bed, his free hand reaching out to brush lank hair off the unconscious man's forehead. Again, his lips formed the unmistakable shape of Vin's name.

Young-Vin surged to his feet and spun around. Blue eyes flashing with fury, he advanced on the tall man.

"Ya said I's dyin' right?"

"Indeed. I don't know…"

"Dyin' ain't the same as dead, ya moron!" The more angry Young-Vin got, the more strongly his geographical relationship to their own Vin expressed itself. "It ain't th' same!"

"Well, but it's quite inevitable, and it was thought…"

"Dyin' ain't dead! I ain't dead!" Stalking menacingly forward, he poked his finger into the center of the retreating man's chest.

"…But the quite extensive pain of…"

"Who the shit cares about any of that! I ain't dead! And I made a promise!"

"But my dear…" The tall man was backing rapidly away from that prodding finger.

"I ain't your dear, you fucker! I ain't dead, and you and whoever ya think's in charge around here ain't got no right to decide when I kick it in!"

Chris knew the grin on his face was expanding with every vitriolic word. Lordy, was this ever the real thing. He glanced at the dusty man beside him. Vin's face held an expression he'd never seen before. He'd pushed the hat back off his head, leaving his brilliant blue eyes atypically exposed, and the glow of… well, of pride in those eyes lit the grayness. A grin of sheer delight stretched his lips as he watched this slight, younger-seeming version of himself fearlessly confront a man a foot taller and twice as broad as himself.

"But the decision was made…!"

"Who the fuck cares who made what decision? I'm tellin' you right here and right now that I ain't dead and I ain't gonna get dead just on the say-so of you and your goddam bosses! So get the hell wherever you need to get to put me back where I belong!"

"But… but…"

"And then y'all leave me alone ta get along with things!"

One final shove, and the tall man frantically waved his hands and twisted into nothingness, leaving Young-Vin, who had been leaning against the hand he'd pushed into the other man's sternum, to fall face-down on the gray surface beneath their feet.

The silence hung breathless.

"Very edifying." Ezra's smooth drawl shattered the stillness. "Charming vocabulary, Mr. Tanner."

Young-Vin stood, facing the other seven men.

"I ain't dead," he whispered.

"'Pears not," Vin agreed, his lips still pulled into that triumphant smile. "I'd say ya made yer point."

Young-Vin's head dropped, mouth twisting in frustration. When he lifted his eyes, sorrow darkened the blue. He looked past the seven, undoubtedly focusing on the image of his own Chris. "Dammit, I promised."

"Such promises have weight, my young friend." Josiah's deep voice was gentle. "And, as you so… acutely pointed out, this you…" He gestured at the phantom occupant of the bed, "…is not yet dead."

"Yeah," he said softly. He moved past them to stare at the image, again reaching out toward the Other-Chris. "But damned if I can figure out how I get back there."

The increasingly familiar pop-ripple brought them all around to again face the tall man. Chris smiled at the still-nervous attitude. He wasn't sure how he could tell, considering what the man was wearing, but somehow he looked rumpled, as if he'd been through a very tough day. As perhaps he had.

Young-Vin stepped aggressively forward.

"If ya come back to argue, get outta here!"

The tall man lifted his hands defensively. "No, no. Please calm yourself, dear Vin!"

Young-Vin's scowl deepened at the endearment. "Don't see no reason to get calm."

"Yes, yes! There is reason. Quite unprecedented! I've never…" The tall man shook himself, then drew a deep breath. "My dear Vin, it has been decided that your retrieval was a bit… precipitous."

Two shaggy heads swiveled in concert toward the gambler.

"Hasty," Ezra supplied.

"Damn right!" Young-Vin spat.

"Now, you must understand. If you are returned, there will be a great deal of pain. And you may still find yourself back here. But it has been decided to allow you to make that determination for yourself. Most unprecedented!"

Young-Vin's face had lightened as the tall man spoke. "So, you're puttin' me back? Lettin' me keep my promise?"

"Yes. Letting you attempt to keep your promise. Universe's Light be with you, dear Vin. I fear you have a most uncomfortable time ahead of you. We had felt that it was a suffering you did not deserve, but apparently you disagree. So your fate is to be returned to your hands."

Young-Vin shook his head. "Ya don't get it, do ya? It don't matter how much it hurts. It's worth it. All of it."

The tall man shook his head sadly. "I shall return momentarily to restore you to your body. I must be certain first that there will be no… ripples."

As he twisted out of sight, Young-Vin turned to Chris's Vin. They stared at each other, slight, identical smiles gracing their faces.

"Sure would like to have had a chance to talk to you," Young-Vin offered.

Vin's lips stretched into a broader smile. "Might could share some ideas about keepin' him in line." The suggestion was accompanied by a tip of the head, clearly indicating the target of the implied plot.

Chris scowled and moved between the two. "The last thing I need's two of you gettin' into trouble."

He let his face soften into a smile as he gazed into the strange/familiar blue eyes. "Nice to know… Well, I guess it's nice to know there's a future. That we've got a future."

Young-Vin smiled and reached out. Chris's arm automatically met the other's in that familiar grip.

"This is probably all some sorta hallucination—never know what them drug's'll do to ya. And if it's real, and it's anything like them stories J.D.'s always readin', I won't remember any of this when I wake up. Sure hope I do. Or at least, that I wake up feelin' the strange urge to go to the library and do some readin'. It's been a fine thing, seein' all of y'all."

Solemnly, he moved from man to man, shaking each hand. Finally, he turned back to his counterpart. Neither appeared to notice as the tall man returned.

As he had with Chris, Young-Vin shared a warriors' grip with Vin.

"'S pretty amazing, meeting yourself," Young-Vin said.

Vin dipped his head, rough voice barely audible. "Y' make me proud."

Young-Vin's smile widened. "Thanks. You too. I mean…"

Vin grinned and nodded sharply.

"Well, dear Vin. Time to go back. You are very, very sure?"

Young-Vin scowled at the man. "Ya dim or something? Yeah I'm very, very sure!"

Sighing sadly, the tall man made a series of glowing signs in the air, and abruptly, Young-Vin vanished.

Around them, the vista returned to its original vague chaos, the sorrowing man in the chair vanishing like smoke.

"Oh, dear, dear me. He will…" Breaking off, the man shook himself, and turned briskly to Chris.

"Dear Mr. Larabee, I'm happy to say that we are ready to return you and your companions to the point from which you were so unfortunately extracted. If you are ready…?" He lifted his hands.

"Wait." Vin grabbed one of the man's wrists, pulling it downward. "We gonna remember? I mean, him. He said he'd forget us. We gonna remember we met him?"

The tall man shook his head regretfully. "Dear me, no. That would be quite disastrous. I'm afraid you'll have no memory of this little visit."

Chris winced inwardly at the regret that flashed over Vin's face. He reached for the tall man's other arm.

"If we ain't gonna remember, can you tell us how things worked out? If he made it?"

Gently, the tall man pulled free of their grips. Fingers waggled in the air, leaving those eerie trails of light. "Ah, yes!" The surprise in his voice was clear. "Indeed he did. As I feared, he suffered a great deal of pain, and these injuries will make themselves felt as the years advance for him. But he did indeed survive. Quite, quite remarkable!"

With a flamboyant gesture, he again brought the shifting panorama under control, narrowed to a single image. The seven men drew together in a line, seeing two men climbing a hillside. As they watched, the two men—Other-Chris and Young-Vin—pulled themselves onto a ledge and dropped to sit, shoulder to shoulder, facing the lowering sun. The Chris-image dropped an arm around the Vin-image's shoulders, squeezing affectionately. The two men grinned and leaned companionably against each other as they watched the brilliance of the sunset. This image of Vin was clearly healthy, obviously happy.

Chris nodded in satisfaction and glanced at his own Vin. The small, contented smile on Vin's lips prompted a similar smile on his own. And he could see the same approval reflected in the other five faces.

Right then.

Chris turned toward the tall man, brow raised.

+ + + + + + +

"Shit!"

"Ow!"

"T' hell?"

"Dammit!"

For a long moment, they lay dripping and tangled.

"'Siah, get the hell offa my face!"

"Sorry, Buck."

"Ow ow ow!"

"J.D., ya all right?"

"Ow ow ow!"

"Right. Let me take a look."

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Carefully, Chris felt for somewhere to brace his hand that wasn't someone else's tender flesh. Levering himself upward he gazed down into the disgruntled face of his best friend.

"Ya wanna move yer knee before ya ruin m' prospects, Cowboy?"

Chris grinned and shifted off the tracker's body.

"Everyone here? Anybody really hurt?"

He got grunts and moans from each of the other six, but no claims of serious injury.

Nathan looked up from J.D.'s side. "Looks like J.D. twisted his ankle pretty good. Buck's got some pretty decent bumps and bruises. But I don't see anything bad."

"What the hell happened?" Buck groused.

Chris shrugged guiltily.

Vin's grin was gleeful. "Tol' ya, Pard. Shoulda let me go last."

Chris cuffed the tracker gently, returning his grin. "Mouthy Texan. Maybe I shoulda seen to it there won't be any little Tanners runnin' around to torment me in my old age."

A strange look passed over Vin's face. "Little Tanners?" he whispered.

Chris felt a chill run up his back.

"Ain't likely to be making any little Tanners," Vin said, shaking his head.

Josiah appeared behind the Texan, dropping his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Nonsense, Brother Vin. The future will certainly be brightened by many of your offspring."

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Chris stood and moved to the mouth of the small cave, gazing out into the rain.

"Ya know, somehow I think you may just be right, Josiah. Somehow I think…"

The End