When the Dead Walk Again

"How you doing there, Miz Travis?"

Mary Travis looked back over her shoulder to where Vin Tanner rode easily behind her. He flashed her a broad smile which she couldn't help but return. "Quite well, Mr. Tanner. And you?"

The bounty hunter spurred his horse forward until he rode abreast of the newspaper editor. "Aw, I guess I'm doing well as can be expected on such a hot day, Miz Travis." Mary followed his gaze around the sheltered forest track, as though he could see the heat emanating from every corner.

"Yes, it is quite hot," she agreed, wiping some of the sweat from her own brow. "Well, Mr. Tanner," she asked, changing the subject, "what brings you out on such a sweltering day?"

Vin kept his eyes on the trail ahead as he answered her. "I pulled watch duty today," he replied. "Figured I'd check out some of the homesteads, make sure no one was giving them any trouble. And you?"

Mary patted her horse's neck as she answered. "I wanted to gather some information on the opinion of Four Corners' growth over the past several months. I don't get many chances to talk with those citizens who live outside of town, and I wanted to include them in my survey."

Vin nodded. Mary could tell he wasn't really listening to her, and she followed his gaze to where it lingered on the trees to his right. "Mr Tanner?" she said softly. "Mr Tanner, is something wrong?"

He raised his hand in a silencing motion as he pulled his horse to a stop, his eyes never leaving the trees. Suddenly, in a tone that belayed the urgency of his words, he said, "Ride back to town and get help."

Mary was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Vin took his gaze from the woods briefly, just long enough to look straight into her face, and Mrs. Travis felt her will start to crack under that look. "I said ride back to town and get help. Don't ask questions, don't look back, just ride. Something's wrong here, and I'm going to find out what it is." He turned away again.

Before Mary could ask him once more to clarify, all hell broke loose.

With a suddenness that left Mary breathless, six masked riders came barrelling out of the trees surrounding them, their leafy camouflage falling away as they plowed through the undergrowth to surround the pair. Vin shouldered his horse in front of Mary's in an effort to protect the newspaper editor, not that it would have mattered; the phantom riders were on all sides.

"You Vin Tanner?" one asked in a gruff voice.

Vin cocked his chin at the man. "Might be. What you want him for?"

The swarthy man chuckled. "Oh, you and I got some unfinished business, Tanner." With that, he drew his mask off, revealing a hideously scarred face and flashing, black eyes.

Mary watched with horror as the determined set of Vin's jaw, which always accompanied his persona, fell away, to be replaced by something Mary had never seen on the tracker's face before...

Fear.

Vin Tanner was afraid.

The unmasked rider laughed, a deep, evil snicker. "You remember me, don't you, Tanner? You remember your ole partner, don't you?"

Vin was shaking his head in disbelief, his hands clutching his reins in a white-knuckled grip. "Johnson? Jesse Johnson? No, it can't be. You're-."

But Jesse cut him off. "I'm what, Tanner? Dead? You'd like to think I am, wouldn't you? After all, you were the one that *killed* me, weren't you?" He pushed his horse forward so that he was on the other side of Vin, across from Mary, who sat perfectly still, scared to death of what was going on. "Well, tracker, I ain't dead. I was for a while, but I ain't anymore." The hideously scarred face leaned in closer to Vin's, making the younger man cringe when Jesse spoke. "But you'll know what it was like soon enough, Vin. Oh yes you will." And he brought a crushing fist down on the crown of Vin's head. The bounty hunter slouched forward in his saddle, unconcious.

Mary watched, petrified, while all this happened. But now that Vin had been dealt with, Johnson turned his attention to the blonde woman and grinned viciously. "Now, Mrs. Travis, since I can't have you riding off to tell the entire town, I'm afraid you'll have to come with us." Mary saw him gesture to someone behind her. Seconds later, a blindfold was pulled tightly across her eyes, and a gag shoved brutally into her mouth, even as her hands were yanked behind her and lashed together with cord that bit into her wrists, cutting off the circulation.

Now that she was bound, she felt someone take her horse by the reins, and heard Johnson give the order to, "Move 'em out!" Then they were moving, to heaven only knew where.

And she was terrified.

The masked men had a camp just beyond the forest, in a cozy canyon nestled among the cactus and yucca plants of the desert. Their kidnappers had thrown both Mary and Vin in a small, dusty tent at the edge of the encampment, removing the editor's blindfold but none of her other bonds. Vin's hands had been tied as well, attached by a long rope to an identical bond circling his ankles. He still hadn't regained conciousness since the blow Johnson had given him three hours earlier, and Mary was growing more and more worried by the second.

She worked frantically at the gag that had sucked her mouth dry of all moisture, trying to force it out of her mouth with her tongue and sheer force of will. Meanwhile, she was also twisting her wrists, which still remained bound behind her, trying to free them. The blonde widow could feel her skin being rubbed raw and bloody, but forced herself to continue.

Her mouth was cleared before her hands were free. She felt the cotton cloth slide over her lips and down her chin, hanging around her neck like a bandana. She sucked in a few deep breaths, wincing from the parched feel the air had on her dry tongue. Swallowing a few times, she managed to work some saliva into her throat. "Mr. Tanner," she croaked. "Mr. Tanner, wake up. Mr. Tanner!" She saw the bounty hunter twitch, heard him groan, but he didn't awake. "Wake up, cowboy!" she managed to get out, hoping that would wake him.

She sighed with relief when she saw him move again, and watched his eyelids flutter open. "Aww," he moaned as he sat up, leaning back against the side of the tent, "what happened?"

Mary wriggled her way over to him. "Don't you remember?" she asked hoarsely, still recovering moisture to her dry mouth. "Mr. Johnson?"

Vin stilled. Mary watched as memories of the events in the forest flashed through his eyes. She didn't disturb his thoughts, just sat there, waiting for him to speak.

When he finally did, it wasn't as an explanation. "Come here," he said gruffly, apparently trying to hide the fear that lurked in his face. "Let me untie those wrists."

Mary didn't push him for an answer to the obvious question that stuck in her mind: why they were there. Instead, she twisted around so that her back was to him, her hands within easy reach of his. The kidnappers had tied his hands in front, so he could reach down and untie her bonds with minimal difficulty.

She let out a breath of relief as she felt her wrists come free. Bringing them in front, she surveyed their status with dismay; they were red and raw, and bloody where the cord had dug into her the worst.

She saw Vin wince out of the corner of her eye. "Ouch," he said, and she couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in his voice. She was a little surprised, however, when he leaned forward took her hands between his, and began massaging her abused wrists. "Mr. Tanner...." she began, but let her voice die off as the soothing feel of his hands worked it's way into her soar flesh. He had the rough hands of a man accustomed to living in the wild, but they were gentle. As though he were binding the wing of an injured dove.

Mary was surprised to find her eyes had drifted closed, as she focused on the all-consuming sensation of his hands. Immediately she forced them to open, and was glad to see he wasn't staring at her, or he might have seen the flush that had suffused her cheeks. "Thank you, Mr. Tanner," she managed, squeaking a little at the start, as she pulled her hands from his.

He let them go, and brought his eyes up again to meet hers. He was hiding the fear well, but Mary could still see the worry that lurked in the bounty hunter's eyes. Now, she knew, was when she had to ask. "Mr Tanner," she murmured, "why are we here?"

Vin stopped moving again, that same stillness he had had earlier when she mentioned Jesse Johnson. "I don't rightly know if I can tell you that, Miz Travis," was his mumbled reply.

"Why not?"

He cast his eyes down to the floor and wouldn't meet her gaze. "I don't want you to think less of me, ma'am."

Her? Think less of HIM? Vin Tanner? The man had saved her life, and her son's, and most of the inhabitants of Four Corners, more times than she cared to count. "Mr. Tanner, nothing will make me think less of you. And we are in this mess together, so I would like to know why." She kept her voice gentle but firm.

When the sharpshooter met her eyes this time, it was with grim resolve. "Jesse Johnson and I used to be partners when I was a buffalo hunter," he began, not even bothering with an introduction. "We had a lot of great years together. Then, during the war, I came to find he was selling meat to the Union at ten times the price it was worth, and keeping the extra for himself. Now I don't know s'about you, Mrs. Travis, but that is highway robbery where I come from, and downright wrong. So I told him what I thought about the deal, and that I wanted out. Well, he didn't agree, and we got into a little fight about it." He closed his eyes, and Mary could almost see the memories that must have been whipping through his mind at that point. "We got into a little firefight in the Saloon in Cedar Springs, and I got him, BAM, right here." He slammed his fist against his chest, right above the heart. "One of our bullets, I don't know whose, had hit a bottle of whiskey on the counter, and a nice little fire had started up behind the bar. It spread quickly, what with all the alcohol and what not. I moseyed out of there faster than lickety-split, and left him there." Vin's voice was haunted as he finished. "I thought he was dead. I was wrong."

Mary felt her heart clutch in sympathy. ///Oh, Vin/// she thought,///you couldn't have known./// But she said nothing; simply reached out and laid a comforting hand on his arm. The sadness in the sharpshooter's eyes tore at her. He had always been so secretive, so withdrawn. Now he bared his vulnerability to her, and she could say nothing. But it didn't matter. The thanks in the bounty hunter's eyes was all she needed. He just wanted someone to understand, to realize he hadn't meant to harm the other man so badly. She heard his words again, 'I thought he was dead. I was wrong.'

"It's OK," she finally managed to say. "I understand."

He smiled at her, a pained smile that spoke volumes about how he felt just then, but at least he was smiling.

Just then, the tent flap flung open, and the tall, burly form of Jesse Johnson stepped through. Mary pulled her eyes away from the big man long enough to scan Vin's face and see his reaction. The bounty hunter seemed under control, like a cocked gun.

"Well, well," Johnson said, with fake pleasure. "I see our friend has decided to rejoin the land of the living." His grin faded, replaced by pure loathing. "So glad you could come, Tanner. Too bad you won't be staying long."

Vin gazed up at the scarred face, and spoke. "What do you want with me, Jesse?" Mary was surprised at how calm he managed to keep his voice.

The scarred former buffalo hunter chuckled. "Oh, just to watch you suffer, my boy." He strode a little farther into the tent's cramped interior. "I've waited a long time for this, Tanner," he snarled. "But, man, you are one hard son-of-a-bitch to track down, did you know that? Even harder with a $500 bounty on your head." He leaned forward, and Mary pushed herself back against the side of the tent to keep away from the furious man. But he didn't even seem to notice her; his attention was strictly focused on Vin. "That's funny, ain't it, Tanner? When all this is done, not only will you be dead, but I get $500 for my troubles. Ain't that just perfect? Don't it just make you want to laugh?"

Vin kept his chin lifted through the whole explication. Mary could see the fear in his eyes replaced with cold, flashing anger, and it made her shudder to think what it would feel like to have those eyes directed at her. "So, how'd you find me?"

Jesse chortled, and Mary watched in horror as he directed his distorted gaze to her face. "Thank Little Miss Pretty here," he said. "That little paper she puts out is mighty useful." He turned back to Vin. "I damn near cried when I read about how seven men, one of them a former buffalo hunter turned bounty hunter, had single-handedly changed Four Corners from a hellhole to a downright nice place to live." He backed away quickly then, towering over the two prisoners on the floor. "But enough chit chat. Time for some fun." Johnson headed for the tent flap again, but he turned once to look back over his shoulder at them. "Don't go anywhere, Tanner. I ain't through with you yet." Then, sneering, he left.

Mary found that she was trembling, pressing herself tightly against Vin's shoulder. "I-I'm so sorry," she stuttered. "I didn't know-"

The sharpshooter turned to her, and she was glad to see the anger that had burned there only a short time before had been supplanted by an almost tender understanding. "It's all right, Miz Travis. They would have found me eventually. It's not your fault." He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "OK?"

She nodded shakily, but she could still feel the tears burning in her eyes. Vin pulled lightly on her hand, drawing her closer so that her head rested on his shoulder. She didn't pull back; it felt good to have someone to lean on. Mary was terrified. Not so much for herself as for him. She kept hearing Johnson's words over and over again: 'Just to watch you suffer, my boy.'

As though on cue, Johnson reappeared in the tent flap, an evil grin on his face. In his hand he gripped a wicked looking Bowie knife. Mary could feel Vin's muscle's tense beneath her cheek, and she raised her face to look into his. His jaw was set, his eyes hard.

Johnson chuckled. "Well, well, ain't that a pretty sight," he said, looking at them huddled together. Shaking his head, he came forward. "I'm afraid I'll have to break up the fun, though." Reaching down, he grabbed Vin's arm and yanked the bounty hunter to his feet. Mary felt her hands try to reach for him reflexively, but she forced them back down into her lap.

Johnson was pushing Vin towards the exit. The sharpshooter could only do so much, tied as he was, and was forced to shuffle along. "Come on, Tanner," Jesse growled.

Vin stumbled out into the light of the canyon and beyond Mary's line of sight. Before the flap closed once more, however, Johnson turned to look at her, his hideously burn-scarred face twisted into a sneer. "See you later, sweetie," he hissed. "Don't wait up to late." Then the flap was closed, and she was left alone.

Vin stood among a group of six men, all of whom still wore masks, with the exception of Jesse. Vin took that to be both good and bad: good because if they still wore masks, it probably meant they didn't mean to kill him. Bad because if it wasn't death he was waiting for, he was scared to know just what exactly Johnson had planned.

They had stripped him of his shirt and tied him to a tall post they'd erected in the center of the encampment. The sun beat down on him, making him thirsty and burning his shoulders and bare chest. But he didn't let them see his discomfort; rather, he kept his demeanor as aloof as was possible in this situation.

Johnson stood before him, fingering the Bowie knife. It had a cruel, curved blade that looked painfully sharp. Vin tried to keep his eyes away from it, but they kept being drawn back.

"Do you know what it's like to burn alive, Tanner?" Johnson broke the silence. He turned his flashing black eyes on the sharpshooter. "Do you?"

Vin managed to shake his head. "No, Jesse, I don't."

Johnson nodded. "I know you don't. I do." He gestured to his warped face. "It feels like you're being melted from the outside while your insides are being burned one by one. I could feel my skin coming off, Tanner. I could FEEL it." He moved closer and held the knife to Vin's throat. "And now you're going to feel it, too."

Vin swallowed carefully. "I thought you were dead, Jesse. I'd have gone back if I'd known-"

But Johnson cut him off. "BUT YOU DIDN'T BOTHER TO CHECK, DID YOU?" he screamed, digging the knife into the flesh of the sharpshooter's throat. Vin felt a tiny trickle of blood begin to ebb down his neck, but he forced himself not to cry out.

Johnson pulled back then. "Oh no," he snarled, "I am not going to kill you. Not yet. That would be too quick." He edged closer again. "No, this is going to be slow. Slow and excruciating. Just like the fire was." He extended the knife. "And I'm not even going to let you scream, Tanner. Just like I couldn't scream cause of the smoke." He nodded his head to one of the other men who stepped forward and pulled a rag around Vin's mouth, tightening it so much that the bounty hunter was sure it would touch his throat.

Johnson just smiled. "Oh, you will want to scream, Tanner. You will." And he flicked the knife.

VIn felt a sharp sting as the blade grazed over his ribs. He sucked in a breath and held it, looking down briefly to see a thin trail of blood form on his abdomen and trickle down his stomach. He looked up again, forcing the pain from his eyes and glaring at Jesse with pure hatred.

Johnson just grinned. "Oh, I haven't even begun, Tanner. Just you wait." He nodded again, and suddenly, all the men held identical Bowie knives.

Vin looked around the circle, trying desperately to keep calm as they advanced on him. Then they pounced.

He felt a knife blade cut him on the left side just as another sliced across his chest. More and more, a haze of pain. Nothing deep, nothing life threatening. But enough to make him want to beg for mercy. The knives came from all sides, never giving him a rest.

He didn't know how long the torture went on, but suddenly, it was over. The absence of pain almost put him into shock. He opened dazed, clouded eyes and looked around.

The men had retreated, though their knives were still out and at the ready. Vin noticed that each blade dripped with blood, and some part of his memory reminded him that it was HIS blood. He knew Johnson was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear very well. But he saw a man advancing on him with what looked like a burning twig. ///He's going to light me on fire/// Vin thought absently.

But no. Instead, the man came close to him, extended the smoldering twig, and laid it along one of the many lacerations which covered his bloody upper body.

Vin wanted to scream. He writhed and bucked at the pain that coursed through him as the masked man cauterized the wound, applying the heat for longer than was necessary. Vin could see Jesse standing nearby, watching with loathsome satisfaction as he writhed in agony.

Then, the rest of the men were there again. And they all held the glowing brands. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The gag wouldn't let him. He felt tears leap to his eyes and he tried to force them back, to reestablish his earlier complacency, or even anger. But all he felt was fear.

Then the excruciating touch of fire was on him, and he couldn't think beyond the pain.

Mary sat anxiously in the tent, listening to the sound of the guard outside her prison, straining to hear some sound from the others she knew were out there. She tried not to count the minutes that passed as she waited for Vin to be returned, but it was hard. She couldn't remember how many hours had passed since he'd been taken, how long it had been since she'd heard that one shriek from Jesse Johnson ('BUT YOU DIDN'T BOTHER TO CHECK, DID YOU!'), which had made her blood run cold. She'd heard nothing since then, and fear gripped her.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of boots clomping on the dust outside the tent. The flap was lifted, and Johnson entered, dragging the haggard looking form of Vin Tanner with him. "Take him," the scarred man hissed, tossing the sharpshooter in her direction as though Vin were nothing but a ragdoll. Without another word, he turned and left. Mary did not like the smirk the man wore as he exited.

But that didn't matter just then. She crawled to Vin's side. His shirt was untucked and haphazardly buttoned, and hung on his thin frame loosely. He didn't move, and the only sign that he was still alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Mary knelt before him, looking closely at his face. She saw the raw corners of his mouth where the gag had dug into his flesh. Remembering how thirsty she had been when she had rid herself of her own gag, she hurried to the tent flap. "This man needs water!' she called through it to the guard who sat outside. He had given her some earlier, during her hellish wait.

So she was completely taken by surprise when he replied, "He gets no water, boss' orders."

"But he NEEDS it!"

"So don't the bugs, lady, but I ain't giving them any, and he don't get none either!"

Mary stared at the canvas in frustration, but she knew it was a lost cause. Whirling around, she crawled back to Vin, kneeling behind him. "Mr. Tanner?" She noticed the smell of alcohol hung around him, and she briefly wondered why. "Mr. Tanner, are you awake?"

A faint nod of his head.

She couldn't hold in her sigh of relief. "Oh, Mr. Tanner, thank God. I was afraid you were...." She couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

The bounty hunter didn't respond, however, and she began to worry again. "Mr Tanner," she murmured, crawling around so that she knelt in front of him rather than at his back, "I'm going to check you over, OK? I have to see what's wrong." She began to unbutton his shirt, only to be stopped by the surprisingly strong grip of his hand on her's.

Looking over at his face, Mary saw the sharpshooter's sapphire eyes pleading with her. 'No,' they begged, 'please don't look.' She felt tears spring to her own eyes at the unspoken communication. "I have to," she whispered, fighting down the lump in her throat. "I have to know how I can help you." She didn't move any further, though; simply waited for him to release her hand. Which he did, eventually, closing his eyes as though he were a man heading for the hangman's noose.

Mary finished unbuttoning the shirt, going slowly so as not to reinjure the obviously tender skin underneath. Sliding the cloth back and off his shoulder, she gasped.

The bounty hunter's entire chest and abdomen were covered in slash marks: cuts and gashes, long and short, some thin as a hair, others as wide as her forefinger. The flesh around each mark was red and blistered, and she knew each wound had been cauterized, making her wince in sympathy.

The smell of alcohol was stronger now, and she realized in horror that it was emanating from HIM, not his clothes as she had assumed. It was not the residue aroma left from being beaten by a pack of vicious drunks.

They had cut him, cauterized him, and poured whiskey on his wounds.

Tears of anguished empathy began to roll down her cheeks. ///How could they? The animals!/// Reaching up, she stroked his cheek, to bring his attention back to her. Blue eyes, usually so bright, now gazed back at her through a haze of pain. "I'm sorry, Vin," she whispered, trying to talk over the lump in her throat. "I'm so sorry." The bounty hunter blinked, and Mary was surprised (///Why are you surprised, woman. After what he's been through///) to see a tear roll down his cheek. With a move that tore at her heart she saw him start to raise his hand to wipe the droplet of water from his cheek, but the movement sparked a new wave of pain, and more tears flowed even as his hand dropped back to the sandy floor before him.

The blonde editor reached up reflexively to wipe the tears from his cheek, and he looked at her gratefully from his pain-dazed eyes. "It's okay, Vin," she whispered hoarsely. "It's okay to cry. I know it hurts." ///And it must be excruciating./// "Just let go, Vin," she leaned forward, so that her lips were a hairsbreadth from his forehead. "I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you, and I'm not going to think the less of you if you cry. Please, Vin. Please." She was crying herself now, hot tears pouring down her cheeks like molten metal.

She could feel him tensing, trying to fight back the emotions that roiled within him. Then a tiny moan emerged from his parched mouth. Then another. His legs curled up as he wrapped himself into a tight ball. But he did not cry.

Mary leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shaking form. "Shh, Vin. I'm here. I won't let them hurt you again today." She hated the weakness of the statement. 'I won't let them hurt you again TODAY.' ///No, but tomorrow's OK, and the next day, and who knows how long until they finally let him die./// She rested her cheek against his shoulder and let her tears fall on his flesh and roll down his back as she loosed the tears he could not cry.

///Oh, Chris, Buck, everyone, please find us,/// she begged silently. ///I don't want this to go on. Please find us.///

But no one came, and the night wore on. Neither one slept, Vin due to his pain, and Mary because she couldn't bear to leave him alone with his misery. They could merely sit and wait and pray that the next day wouldn't be so horrific.

But their wishes were unanswered, and the next day came the whip; and the day after, the spread-eagle stretch.....

And still no one came.

Chris Larabee was furious. For five days they had searched, high and low, for Mrs. Travis and the missing member of their group. ///You'd think there'd be a track to follow,/// he thought angrily, urging his black along the trail a little faster. All any of them had been able to deduce was that the two had been together when they were set upon by a group of people on horseback, then led away, only to have the trail disappear into the dense undergrowth of the forest.

///Damn it, I need Vin!/// The bounty hunter was the best tracker of the group; he could follow a hawk across a clear sky, Buck had joked once. But Vin wasn't there. Vin was missing. And it made Chris mad as hell.

The sound of hoofbeats pulled Chris from his reverie, and he looked up to see Buck and JD galloping towards him.

"Chris!" the younger of the two cried out as they approached. "We've found something!"

+ + + + + + +

It wasn't much. A piece of deep purple cloth snagged on a branch. Nothing to get all fired up about.

But Chris's eyes showed with an intensity that they hadn't held for the past five days.

Because that was definitely a piece of cloth from Mary Travis's dress.

"What do we do?" Buck sounded as excited as JD had when they'd led the gunslinger to this spot.

Chris looked at the track the horsemen had left. They might have been pros enough to leave nothing within immediate view of the road, but once well within the safety of the woods, the kidnappers had grown sloppy and left a trail a child could follow. "Go get the others. They should be in town. Bring them back here. I'm going ahead to see what's going on. Meet me there." He spurred his black forward, only to feel Buck's hand grip his arm.

Icy eyes flicked to Buck's worried face. "Need something, Buck?"

The other man's face didn't change, though, despite the hard stare the gunslinger directed at him. "I just don't want you to do anything damned crazy, Chris. I don't need three friends in trouble. It's all I can take with just two."

Chris's gaze softened almost imperceptibly, but he still shook off Buck's steadying hand. "Tell Nathan to bring his instruments," he said, and rode off into the woods.

Buck and JD watched him go, then turned their horses and rode as fast as they could back to Four Corners.

+ + + + + + +

Chris rode up to the edge of the ravine then dismounted so that he could get even closer to the edge without being seen. He had been drawn here by the sound of what seemed to be voices, and the last thing he needed was to be seen.

Slithering up to the edge, gun drawn, Chris peered over into the ravine. What he saw made him want to bellow with fury.

Because he saw Vin.

The younger man was tied, hand and foot, to four stakes which had been planted firmly in the ground. Six men milled around him, and occasionally one would lash out with a foot and kick the helpless bounty hunter in the side, or the head.

Chris felt his blood boil with anger at the sight of his friend being treated like an animal. He could see, even from where he was, the red knife wounds and angry welts that covered the sharpshooter's chest. He wanted nothing more than to run down amidst the men who surrounded his friend, guns blazing, and kill them all.

One man, the only one without a mask, stood to the side, watching the escapades of his comrades. From his posture, Chris knew instinctively that he was the leader. Something wasn't right about his face, though. It seemed...different. But that didn't matter right then. If that man was the leader, than he was responsible for what had been done to Vin.

And he would pay. Dearly.

Chris would make sure of that.

But he couldn't do anything yet. He had to wait for the others.

Anger boiling within him, Chris dug in to wait, watching the scene unfold below him, marking every action, cataloguing it, and waiting to mete out justice.

+ + + + + + +

Mary sat, listless and sad, waiting for the inevitable opening of the tent flap, when Vin would be tossed at her feet and she would have to tend him with little more than her voice and touch. What he'd been through the past five days was enough to have killed a weaker man, yet the bounty hunter clung to life, as though throwing Jesse Johnson's warped view of justice right back in the burly man's scarred face.

She stared at her hands. They were dirty, a clear indication of how the rest of her looked, she imagined. Her hair was askew, her dress torn and tattered, pieces taken from the hem used to bandage what few of Vin's wounds could be bound. They allowed her a little water each day, most for drinking, a little for bathing. They had only given Vin enough water to survive. The poor man was so parched with thirst, he couldn't talk. Not that he'd want to anyway. He was in too much pain for words.

Mary heard the tell-tale scuffling of boots outside and, just as it had been every day, the tent flap was thrown back, a blaze of light from the setting sun shone through, and Vin was dropped at her feet. Then the flap was closed and they were alone.

The newspaper editor moved to his side, examining him for what new injuries the monsters had inflicted on his already battered body. Lots of new bruises to add to the old. But not much new blood. Good. The sight of him covered in his own blood so many times had truly sickened her.

"Vin?" she whispered, leaning in close so that he could hear her. "Vin, can you hear me?"

He nodded faintly.

She forced a smile, even though he didn't see it. "Good, that's good. I'm going to look you over now, okay?"

Another nod.

She stopped talking then, and began examining his chest, stomach, legs, arms, all over him, searching for wounds that needed attention. She didn't see anything life threatening. They had probably decided to simply capitalize on the pain he felt already by beating him up even more in his weakened state. It was sad, but Mary was actually glad. At least they hadn't placed him in pure agony again, as it had been several nights before, when he had been returned to her with a back covered in whip lashes, or the night after, when they had stretched him between four horses, and brought him back with both arms out of their sockets. She had had to force them back in again. The scream he let out, parched throat or no, would haunt her forever. Now, he was so dazed by the pain, even lying on his whipped back didn't seem to affect him; he had closed himself off entirely from what was happening to him.

Well, almost entirely.

She drew away slowly, and with the loss of the warmth of her body near him, she saw his muscles begin to tense, and heard a low moan of anguish come from his throat. She quickly laid a hand on his cheek. "Shhhh, Vin, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. Shhhhh." She stroked his cheek, his hair, letting him know she was with him, even humming to him, until he drifted into a pained sleep.

Since this whole ordeal had started, the bond that existed between the sharpshooter and the editor had grown substantially. He didn't need to speak for Mary to understand him. And Vin wouldn't sleep if she was not nearby. She was his guardian angel, of sorts, and he couldn't rest easy without her there.

Lying down lightly on the ground beside him, she took his hand in her's so that, should he awake, he would know she was there. He rarely opened his eyes now, and when he did, he watched her with such intensity, it would have scared her had it been anyone else. But somehow, with Vin, it just felt right.

"Sweet dreams, Vin," she murmured, as she did every night. Then, closing her eyes, she slept.

+ + + + + + +

"How may we endeavor to assist in this daring escapade, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris looked at Ezra with poorly hidden impatience. The other five men had joined him on the ledge a quarter of an hour before, and by now, full night had fallen over the desert.

"I'm about to tell you, Ezra, if you'd wait a second." He shook his head, and gestured to the drawing he had made in the sand of the kidnapper's encampment. "Nathan, you and Josiah head for this tent," he indicated a mark on his sand map. "That's where I saw them put Vin, and I'm going to guess that Mary's in there, too."

"How can you be sure?" JD piped up.

Chris looked at him. "Cause if she's not, we're screwed. Understand?" JD nodded. "OK," Chris continued, pointing to a stone he had laid on the map, "Ezra, you and JD get behind these boulders and draw away any fire that might be directed at Nathan and Josiah. They have to get to that tent. Vin looked pretty banged up from what I saw, and Tanner or no, I don't think he's strong enough to go on much longer."

"What about me, buddy?" Buck's voice was almost pleading with his anxiousness.

Chris smiled at his friend. "You and I, Buck, go right down the middle." He drew a straight line from the edge of the ravine on his sandmap to the center of the encampment. "We stay low, draw fire, return a little of our own, and make lots of people dead. Sound good?"

Buck grinned. "Sounds great."

Chris smiled back, the kind of smile he got when someone made him really angry. "One thing, though. There's one man down there. He's got a weird face." His hand went to his gun. "That one is mine. Understood?" The others nodded, understanding plain on their faces. "All right," Chris said, standing, "let's go do what we do best." He started forward.

Behind him, he heard Buck whoop softly. "Whooee! We're going to save the day!"

The sound of gunfire woke Mary in the dead of night. At first she couldn't tell what she was hearing. Not until she heard voices yelling about an ambush did she realize what was going on.

Sitting up quickly, she listened closely to the shouts outside their tent.

"Get the guns! Get the guns!"

"Who are they?!"

"Where's Johnson? WHERE'S JOHNSON!?"

Turning quickly to the bounty hunter who still slept beside her, Mary shook his arm lightly. "Vin," she said softly, "Vin, they've finally come!" She could barely contain her joy. Even the sound of gunfire outside couldn't dampen her spirits. All she could imagine was the men who had captured them falling, one by one, under the cascade of bullets loosed by the rest of the seven.

But Vin didn't move.

Mary froze. ///No. No, God, please no.///

She leaned forward and placed an ear against his chest, praying as hard as she could that she would hear something there.

Nothing.

///No, dammit, NO!/// She would not accept it. Not now. So she listened harder.

Still nothing.

"Don't you die on me, Vin Tanner," she said hoarsely, choking back tears. "Don't you die on me. Not when we're this close!"

Nothing.

Nothing.

Tears started to coarse down her cheeks.

Something.

The sound was masked so well by the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, and the gunfire outside the tent that Mary almost missed the faint flutter of a heartbeat that pulsed beneath her ear.

She sat up quickly, her hands flying to his face, gently cupping it between her palms. "Vin? Vin, please talk to me." Mary could feel his shallow breath on her flesh. ///Please hold on, Vin. We're almost out!///

Suddenly, the tent flap behind her flew open. Nathan and Josiah charged in, almost stumbling over Mary and Vin.

The two stood there, looking at the pair huddled on the floor. Nathan had expected some kind of happy reaction to their entrance, but all he saw was Mary Travis looking at him with red, puffy eyes and a tear-streaked face. "Mary?" he said, not quite sure what he was asking.

There was no happiness in the blonde woman's voice when she spoke. "Please help him," she murmured, in a voice that had lost all hope. "He's dying."

Chris Larabee stood slowly. Every nerve in his body told him to stay low, that any minute a final bullet could come barreling down on him from the protected sanctuary of a crevice or boulder, and he would go down for the last time. But somewhere in this encampment, one of the gunslinger's closest comrades was in mortal danger, and for that, he threw caution to the wind. So he stood.

Nothing.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Ezra? JD? You all right?" he called into the eerie silence surrounding the encampment.

"We haven't sustained any mortal injury!" Ezra's cultured southern drawl called back, and Chris saw him and the youngest of their seven extricating themselves from a group of boulders off to the left of the dusty camp.

"Yahoo! That'll get your blood going!" Chris turned to see Buck advancing on him, pounding dust off his hat and grinning from ear to ear.

The gunslinger couldn't share his enthusiasm. "Let's go see Vin."

The smile on Buck's face faded as he remembered the reason for the firefight. "Yeah, let's go," he murmured.

They should have been happy. Bad guys wiped out, good guys triumphant. But it was a sad band of men who crossed the camp to a small, dusty tent on the far edge, where one of their friends lay close to death.

+ + + + + + +

The first thing Chris noticed upon entering the small prison-tent was that he couldn't see Mary. Josiah and Nathan huddled close together, fussing over somebody, but Mary was nowhere to be seen. ///Oh, God. Where is she?///

It was then that he heard a soft voice speaking from behind the Josiah/Nathan wall.

"Vin? Vin, stay with us. Don't you dare die like this, Vin. Don't you dare die like this."

Moving faster, Chris stepped into the tent and moved to the cluster of people in the center of the room. He saw Mary, but she was forgotten as he looked at Vin.

The tracker lay on his back on the dirt floor of the enclosure. Mary sat on one side of him, clutching the sharpshooter's hand so tightly her knuckles were white. It was she who was whispering to him, trying to keep him alive. Nathan and Josiah were working frantically, each one bandaging and cleaning the bounty hunter's injuries.

Injuries. The word couldn't even begin to describe it.

Every inch, it seemed, of the tracker's flesh was covered in wounds. His chest was lacerated and burned, his abdomen covered in cuts and bruises, his legs and arms mottled with purple contusions. All that seemed uninjured was his face. ///Why the hell would they do all that and leave his face?/// "How is he?" The question seemed small and stupid. ///Take a look at him. How do you think he is?///

Nathan looked up from where he was rubbing some salve from his doctor's bag into one of the slash marks on Vin's chest. "It ain't good, Chris. We gotta get him back to town."

Buck shouldered in at that. "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Nathan. You're the doctor here, but, take a look at him. We can't just up and move him! The journey'd probably kill him."

"Well, if we leave him here, he'll definitely die. If we take him back to town, I might be able to help him." The medic's eyes bored into Chris' own. "We gotta do this, Chris. We just gotta hope he's strong enough for the trip."

There was silence for a moment. Then it was broken.

"He's strong enough."

All eyes turned to Mary.

The blonde editor looked up, and her eyes were dry and determined. "He's strong enough," she said again, looking at each man in turn, ending with Chris. "And I know he wouldn't want to die in this hell hole." She looked back down to the unconcious bounty hunter. "I say we give him a chance."

There was silence again.

Finally, "Buck?"

"Yeah, Chris?"

"Why don't you and JD go and find some branches to make a stretcher." The gunslinger's eyes were stony.

"All righty, Chris." Buck and JD hurried out of the tent.

Ezra's worried voice piped up then. "Mr. Larabee," he said softly, "I think, perhaps, we should all be preparing for the passing of our colleague" There was real grief in the conman's voice. "I fear that not even our dear tracker is quite strong enough to handle such abuse."

Chris turned his gaze on the cardsharp. "He's a Tanner, Mr. Standish." Turning, he whooshed out of the tent.

He searched through the entire camp, but nowhere did he find the body of the man with the warped face.

"So the hunt begins," he hissed beneath his breath. The darker part of his soul was glad the man had not been killed. Chris would take great pleasure in doing that himself.

They left around noon that morning, with Vin lying on a stretcher being pulled slowly by JD's horse. Mary rode close beside him, glancing anxiously down at the bounty hunter from time to time. "Please, Vin," she whispered, fighting back tears. "Please come back to us."

And in a slow train, they made their way back to Four Corners.

"Josiah can stay. Everyone else, I'm gonna have to ask ya to leave." Nathan's voice was firm, and no one wanted to argue with the medic.

No one, except Mary and Chris.

The group stood just inside Nathan's room in Four Corners. It had taken longer than any of them had wanted, but after a long time, they had finally reached the town, with Vin still clinging to life on the stretcher behind JD's horse. Being as careful as they could, the rest of the seven had carried their fallen comrade to Nathan's room, where he lay, barely breathing, on the medic's bed. Nathan needed to concentrate, and he just couldn't do that with six other people milling around behind him.

But Mary and Chris wouldn't leave.

"That's my friend in there, Nathan," Chris growled, eyes flashing. "I was the one who took so long in finding him in the first place. I am NOT going to stand aside and watch as he dies. I will not do that, and I will not leave."

Nathan eyed the black-garbed gunslinger. "Chris, we all care about what happens to Vin. But me and Josiah," he gestured to the preacher who knelt beside the fallen bounty hunter in the room, "we need to concentrate. You can stay out here, but I can't let you in this room." His voice was firm.

Chris glared back at the younger man. Finally, he nodded.

Nathan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. ///That's one difficulty out of the way./// Now he turned to Mary. "You have to go, Mary," he said softly.

She hadn't pulled her eyes from the still form of the tracker in the room for the entire conversation. She looked so distant, as though her body were here, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. His voice roused her attention, though, and she looked at him blandly. "What?"

Nathan moved forward, laying a hand on her arm, and spoke gently. "you have to go, Mary. You can stay out here with Chris, but I can't let you stay with Vin."

He hadn't expected her to give up easily, but the sudden anguish that sprang into her eyes was completely unexpected.

"You want me to leave him?" she accused, eyes flashing.

Nathan shook his head. "Not leave him. Just wait out here until we're finished. I don't know what it'll be like, but I can imagine that what we're gonna do won't be pretty."

She glared at him, pain replaced with disbelief. "Not pretty? Nathan, I was the one who had to watch as every day he was brought back, covered in some new injury, bloody and bruised. I was the one who had to clean and bind his wounds. I," she pounded her hand over her heart to accentuate the last word, "was the one who cared for him when I was sure he was going to die from the pain." Tears were in her eyes now. "Not pretty? Nathan, I've seen things in the past five days that I consider to be the ugliest I've ever witnessed. Nothing will ever wipe them from my memory." Her eyes drifted from the medic's face to Vin. "And he needs me." A tear coursed down her cheek. "He get's scared when I'm not with him. If he wakes up, he'll need to know I'm there." She brought her anguished eyes back to Nathan's face. "Please, Nathan. Don't make me leave him. I don't think I could do it."

The man exchanged uncertain looks with Chris, then finally nodded. "All right, Mary."

"Thank you, Nathan," she sobbed in gratitude, then hurried past him to the sharpshooter on the bed.

The medic shook his head, then looked to Chris. "You'll have to wait outside, Chris," he said softly.

The gunslinger looked once more at his friend on the bed, and Nathan saw the pain on the younger man's face reflected in the gunslinger's. But finally, he nodded. "All right, Nathan. You just let me know if anything happens, understand?"

Nathan nodded. "I will Chris."

There was nothing more to say. With a final look at his injured friend, Chris left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Candlelight flickered in the silent sickroom. On the bed, Vin Tanner lay quietly, shallow breath causing the sheets to rise and fall.

A pale hand clutched the bounty hunter's in a comforting grip. Mary's head rested on the edge of the bed, her long blonde hair spilling down her back in flaxen waves, once again gleaming and clean. Her blue eyes were closed, and her body showed all signs of sleeping.

A moan escaped the sleeping tracker, and the thin doze that had encapsulated the newspaper editor fell away. She sat up quickly in her hard-backed chair, eyes alert and filled with worry. She moved and sat on the edge of the bed, her free hand moving to the bounty hunter's cheek. "Shhhh, Vin, it's going to be all right. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." He still twitched and moaned under her hands, but seemed less frantic.

Mary silently thanked God for that. The past few hours had been a torment on everyone. The surgery alone had been horrific. Nathan had been too afraid to give Vin any kind of anesthetic, for fear that his weakened system might not be able to handle it. Mary had held him close as Nathan and Josiah stitched up the wounds that most needed it and disinfected his cuts. Vin had been too weak and exhausted to even scream, though he did manage a whimper now and then. Mary had clutched him tightly, as though sheer proximity would pull him out of his pain induced void.

She did the same now, gathering him into her arms and rocking him lightly, humming softly. The heat that emanated from his tortured form made her brow crease with worry. Mary waited until he had quieted, then reached out to a large bowl that sat on the bedside table. Dipping a clean rag into the bowl, she brought the soaking piece of cloth to Vin's body, squeezing it and letting the cool water roll down his scarred chest.

Vin mumbled something incoherently, shrugging against the pillows beneath his head, his eyes closed and breathing ragged. Waves of fever poured off him, and Mary felt fresh tears spring to her eyes. ///He has to fight so much/// she thought. Folding the wet cloth, she laid it across his forehead, holding it there so it wouldn't fall off from his fevered thrashing. "Vin," she said firmly, "Vin, wake up. Look at me. Let me see your eyes." She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but couldn't keep in a small squeak as she spoke.

He didn't seem to hear her at first, but then, slowly, his body stilled, and then, to her relief, his blue eyes opened. Just two small slits, but the brilliant blue of his eyes was unmistakable.

Vin's throat worked, and she knew he wanted to speak. But a throat made weak by dehydration and fever wouldn't let the words through. "Shhhh, Vin," Mary whispered tenderly, dipping another rag into the cool water and gently dabbing his flushed face with it. "Don't try to talk. You're still weak." But part of her wished more than anything else in the world to hear his gravelly Texas drawl. ///It's been so long since I heard him talk/// she thought absently, a little surprised at the tug of sadness this induced.

A sudden pressure on her hand pulled her attention back to the here and now. Looking down, Mary saw that Vin had taken her hand in his own and held it in a surprisingly strong grip. She brought bright blue eyes up to meet his sapphire ones, and her heart felt like breaking at the look of utter desolation in those eyes. "Vin...?" She didn't know what she was asking, but somehow, it needed to be said.

The sheer act of keeping his eyes open and his mind alert was visibly wearing on the sickly tracker. But with the utmost grace and tenderness, he began to draw her hand up along his body, towards his face. Mary watched the progression with uncertainty, unsure as to what he meant to do. One look at his face, tense and lined with the pain caused by his movement, and Mary gently stilled his hand. "No, Vin," she whispered softly. "Just rest."

But the bounty hunter would have none of it. He paused for a moment, visibly gathering strength, then once again began the upward movement of his hand.

Mary didn't know why, but she couldn't bring herself to stop him again. Maybe it was just because he seemed so set on whatever it was he was doing. ///That's a damn lie, Mary Travis, and you know it/// No, it was more personal than that.

She wanted to KNOW what he was going to do.

Her fingers finally made contact with his face. As always, the first thing she noticed was the coarseness of his cheek. It was rough, but she could feel the smoothness of the flesh beneath the stubble, the strength of the bones that chiseled his features. Mary was holding her breath now, though she didn't know why.

With the gentlest touch she had ever felt, Vin brought her hand to his lips.

Tenderly, he kissed her.

Mary's eyes fluttered closed. His lips were so soft, and the feel of them was all-consuming. She trembled, letting out her long held breath. How long had she secretly wanted to feel this? How often over the past year had she caught herself staring at him, wondering what the touch of his mouth would feel like? How often since this whole ordeal had begun had she wanted to touch those lips?

With her own.

Suddenly, his lips pulled away, and Mary let her eyes drift open.

The world was blurry, obscured by unshed tears. She blinked, and felt hot lines etch down her cheeks. Vin's eyes were distant now, but they seemed less panicked. Mary felt her muscles ease at that- the manic quality the normally silent tracker had taken on since the ordeal began had been unnerving.

But, no.

Something was wrong.

Mary's brow creased with concern. She leaned forward, looking deeply into the tracker's eyes.

That was why she heard him when he spoke.

"Thank you."

It was a whisper so soft and hoarse she wouldn't have heard it had she not been hovering over his lips.

Mary smiled, but there was an insecurity about it. "You're welcome," she replied softly, not quite sure what she was being thanked for.

His throat was working again, and Mary leaned in closer, so that his lips brushed her ear as he whispered once more, the touch of his mouth making Mary's heart beat a bit faster.

Just one word was all he uttered.

Just one.

"Goodbye."

Mary's heart stopped.

She pulled back, terror and grief pushing all other thoughts from her mind. Vin was looking at her, the distance gone from his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he looked at her with perfect clarity.

His heart was in those eyes, and Mary wanted to scream from the unfairness of it all.

"No," she whispered, unable to make her voice go any louder. She was shaking her head from side to side. "No, not again. Not two..." The last was a bare breath of a whisper.

But even as she looked, that blue fire that always lit the tracker's eyes seemed to flicker. His body tensed, and the clarity of his gaze faltered.

"No." Mary's voice was firmer now. She took him by the shoulders and held him tightly, as though that alone could make him hold on. "No, Vin, don't you do this. Don't you die like this! Don't, Vin, please!" She was shaking him lightly, but his eyes were growing distant again. She shook him harder. "NO, Vin! NO! I lost one, I won't lose another!" Her mind was numb, her body pulsing with adrenaline.

Last chance.

She threw herself forward, her hands cupping his face. "No, Vin, please. Don't do this. I...I can't take it if you leave me." Her tears fell on his cheeks, his lips. "Please," came her tortured whisper. "Please, don't leave me."

But he must not have heard.

Because even as she gazed down into his brilliant blue eyes, that fire that had always burned there faded.

His muscles went lax.

His head lolled to one side on the pillow.

His breathing stopped.

His eyes went dark.

And Mary screamed. Screamed as though her heart would break.

Which, of course, it did.

Two black eyes flashed as they watched the medic's building.

They were all there. He knew that. But that wasn't a problem. He'd bided his time for years. A few more hours could be dealt with.

But once they'd left.......That was when the fun began again.

Because one thing was left undone. His final triumph.

Jesse Johnson raised a hand and ran it across his scarred face. ///Just one last thing/// he thought, barely holding in a maniacal cackle. ///Just one more, Tanner. Pretty face like yours...Well, it would be a shame to let it go to waste/// This time, he couldn't hold in the laughter, and chuckling, he slipped deeper into the shadows in which he hid.

To wait.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah Sanchez was tired.

OK, tired was an understatement. He was exhausted. But one look around the circle of friends that waited anxiously for news from Nathan's room and the preacher knew his work was far from done.

///Brother Tanner, I hope you feel the concern in this room. If anything can bring you back, surely that can./// Mary's scream of an hour or so before had brought the six barrelling up the stairs to the sickroom. They found the blonde woman collapsed on Vin's motionless body. Nathan and himself had worked as hard as they could, and finally managed to revive the bounty hunter. Or, at least, they got his heart going again, and his lungs breathing. But that was about all. Nathan had shooed them out of the room, needing all his concentration to just keep the tracker's lungs working and heart pumping. Mary had exploded like a wildcat then, crying that she couldn't leave him, that he needed her. It had taken all five men to pull her from the room. Now she sat quietly on the sofa closest to the foot of the stairs, eyes staring vacantly into nothingness.

Josiah shook his head, letting his gaze drift around the room to each man in turn. Ezra sat in a hardbacked chair, shuffling his cards in silence. He didn't seem to have any game in mind- it just gave his mind and hands something to keep them occupied. The gambler never raised his eyes from the cards, and Josiah knew that if he did, there would be intense grief in their green depths. Out of the remaining six, Ezra had been most similar to Vin, odd as that was to imagine. Both were solitary men by nature, ill-used to being tied down in one place. Despite the gravity of the situation, Josiah couldn't resist a smile. ///Both wanted by the law/// Perhaps the southerner was finally realizing his silent bond with the tracker. Perhaps it was too painful a thing to be realizing so late.

The preacher's eyes drifted next to JD and Buck. The two stood near one another, as always; JD leaning against the wall, Buck staring out the window into the night. The youth's eyes seemed lost, distant. For the first time, one of their company was dying before his eyes, and he felt helpless to stop it; that much was evident just from his face. ///He's seen too much death for a youngster/// Josiah thought sadly, switching his gaze to the older gunslinger by the window.

Buck's back was turned, but the set of his shoulders told Josiah all he needed to know. They were slumped and tired- the shoulders of a man resigned to the loss of his friend. The boisterous gunslinger and the more taciturn bounty hunter had never really spoken much, but in a way, they had complimented each other. Buck's wild audacity and Vin's quiet solidity- something for any situation. Now one half of that equation was dying, slowly and quietly, in a candlelit room. ///As silent in death as in life/// Josiah thought.

Next, his eyes travelled to the black garbed man who paced before him. Chris Larabee's eyes were hard and cold. ///That man is angry at the world/// His face was laced with quiet, blinding fury. This was not to be tolerated. All the men knew of the silent, unspoken bond that existed between the gunslinger and the tracker, and of each of them, Larabee seemed to be the least open to the idea that Vin might die. Josiah could imagine the pain the man must have been feeling: in a way, Vin's soft-spoken, honest nature had helped Chris push through some of the darkest moments in his life, had provided an ear when one was needed. And now, that quiet strength was being pulled away. The hard line of Chris' jaw was the set of a man bent on revenge. And Josiah almost pitied Jesse Johnson when Chris got ahold of him.

Almost.

Finally, Josiah's eye rested on Mary Travis. His grizelled heart had seen many painful things in it's existence- people left homeless, children orphaned, slaughter and mass destruction. But when the woman glanced in his direction, he thought that the desolation in her eyes was the most heart-wrenching thing he'd seen in a long time. They were the eyes of a woman who'd lost too many things in her life. Too many loved ones.

First her husband, Stephen.

Now, Vin.

The new relationship between the tracker and the editor had been noticed by the rest of the seven, but no one had spoken of it. To give it words gave it too much reality, and reality meant that if Vin died, the loss would be too painful.

Because, for the second time in two years, she would be losing the man she loved.

Josiah was about to stand and walk over to join her when the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew everyone's attention.

Nathan came down slowly, his face looking gray and tired.

JD was at the foot of the stairs immediately. "How is he, Nathan? How's Vin?" His voice was anxious and jumpy.

Nathan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He's still hanging on, but I can't do anything else for him. All we can do is try to make him comfortable and wait." But from the tone of the healer's voice, he didn't seem to have much faith that Vin's weakened frame could hold on much longer.

There was no sound in the room. Even the jangling of Chris' spurs had stopped. When the silence was broken, it was by Ezra's soft southern drawl. "Might I inquire if it would be proper for us to see our fallen comrade, Mr. Jackson?"

Nathan looked around at the ashen faces and sunken eyes of his friends and nodded wearily. "All right. But only for a minute. Everyone here needs rest." As they moved past him to go slowly up the stairs, the healer took hold of Mary's arm, looking deep into her eyes. "You especially, Mary. You ain't helping Vin any if you faint from exhaustion." The editor stared back at the healer as though he were from another planet. Finally, though, she nodded, and Nathan let her go. She rose up the stairs like a woman going to the hangman's noose.

Josiah was the last to go up. He paused beside his friend, laying a big hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Have faith, Brother Nate. Brother Tanner is a strong man, and you've done all you can for him. It's up to him now."

Nathan looked up into the preacher's eyes. "I know, Josiah. I just wish it didn't have to be so damn hard."

Josiah gave the healer's shoulder a squeeze for reassurance, then walked slowly up the stairs, the medic following close behind.

Three Hours Later

Jesse Johnson stole across the darkened street, moving as swiftly as he could. Reaching the door, he eased it open and slid inside.

He was in.

He couldn't resist a cackle as he slithered towards the stairs. He'd watched from his vantage point across the street as the men had filed from the building, looking haggard and depressed. Imagine their surprise when they came in the next morning to find......

He laughed again.

Climbing the stairs slowly, he peered around the corner. Hah, just as he'd thought. One man sat slumped in a chair in front of Tanner's door. The man wore all black, and his hat was pulled low on his forehead.

Johnson grinned, his scarred face twisting garishly.

Had Chris been thinking clearly, had he not been exhausted from days of worry and sadness, he would have heard the burly man as he approached.

But he heard nothing.

Except the click of a hammer being pulled back into place.

His cold blue eyes opened, instantly awake, and he raised his head slowly.

To find himself looking into the scarred face of Jesse Johnson.

And the barrel of a colt revolver.

"On your feet, Cowboy," the buffalo hunter snarled. "Time to go see your friend."

+ + + + + + +

Chris struggled against his bonds where Johnson had tied him in the corner. His hands and feet were bound and roped together, and in turn were attached to his neck via a loop of rope. So as he struggled, the makeshift noose around his neck would tighten, choking off his air. He stilled, letting the rope loosen, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. Johnson had gagged him already, so he was forced to watch in silence.

Johnson laughed, a chuckle tinged with madness. "Go ahead, Cowboy. Keep trying to get out. Save me the trouble of killing you myself." He stood beside Vin's bed, and now he looked down at the unconcious tracker, grinning evilly. Reaching into his coat, he drew forth a long, wicked looking Bowie knife. Had Chris been there, he would have recognized it as the same one Johnson had used to inflict so much pain on Vin's tortured form already. Now the former buffalo hunter bent down, laying the knife across the tracker's throat. "Wakey, wakey, Vinny my boy. Jesse wasn't done with you yet."

But Vin's eyes didn't open.

Johnson shrugged. "Oh well. I wanted to see you struggle." As if from nowhere, he produced a dark blue bandana, which he proceeded to tie tightly around the bounty hunter's mouth, moving the unconcious man viciously so that he could knot it forcefully behind his head. Chris winced- his own gag was painfully tight. Vin's had to be at least twice as bad. Chris tried struggling again, and had to stop once more when everything started to look purple.

Johnson paid him no mind. All his attention was focused on Vin now. "There we go," he said, drawing away and surveying his handiwork. "Bring back any memories, my boy?" He laughed maniacally. Then his face grew serious.

He squatted down beside the bed, and twirled the knife before his eyes. "We've had some good times, Vinny. You, me, and knifey here. But I'm afraid it ends here." He turned insane eyes to the unconcious tracker's face. "You always had a pretty face, didn't you, Tanner? All the girls flocked to you because of it. I used to tease you, remember? Call you Pretty Boy Tanner." He grinned, almost reminiscently. Then his eyes went cold. "But you won't have that pretty face much longer, will you? No, Jesse's going to make sure of that." He laid the knife along Vin's cheek "Jesse's going to slice that pretty face right of you, isn't he? Yes. Yes he is." Chris could see a thin line of blood start to trickle down Vin's cheek. The unconcious tracker moaned and shifted. This just made Jesse laugh, and he began to draw the knife down the tracker's cheek, pressing hard enough to leave a line of blood that flowed freely. "Right off. Yes he is, he is."

CLICK

"No he isn't."

Both Johnson and Chris swiveled around to look at the door, where the voice had come from.

Mary stood there, Vin's Winchester rifle raised high, aimed right at Johnson's head.

Mary watched Johnson with blinding fury as the former buffalo hunter stood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chris struggling against his bonds, but she couldn't worry about that right now. Gesturing with her chin, she said, "Drop the knife and move away from the bed. Keep your hands up."

Johnson did as he was told, but instead of the glazed fear she wanted to see in his eyes, he seemed to be laughing at her. But it didn't scare her. In fact, it had the complete opposite affect.

It angered the hell out of her.

"What are you grinning at, Johnson?" she asked, voice cold, rifle never wavering.

He laughed. "You think you can stop me, Little Miss Pretty? With what army? You and your feminine wiles?" His laughter increased.

Mary felt her fury wash over her like white hot fire. "You know what?" she addressed Johnson. "That is really annoying." And without so much as a flinch, she lowered the gun slightly, aimed and fired.

Johnson collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony, clutching at his leg where Mary had shot him in the knee. The editor advanced on him, gun still trained on his writhing form, eyes hard. She paused just long enough to put her foot on the knife and slide it across the floor to where Chris sat. As he began slicing away at his bonds, Mary knelt in front of the sobbing buffalo hunter. "How do YOU like it, Johnson?" she hissed, no mercy in her face. "And you know what? No one cares. No one cares that you are lying here, moaning and puling in your own blood, screaming in agony." She reached down and easily pulled his revolver from it's holster. Standing, she looked down at him, like some warrior angel. "I hope you rot in hell, you bastard," she said.

And kicked him.

In the self-same knee she had just blown away.

He shrieked again in torment.

Chris had come up behind her during her exchange with the monster on the floor. Now, he took the guns from her hands. She let them go easily, letting them slip from her grasp. Her attention had already left Johnson, and she rushed to where Vin lay, still unconcious.

Chris looked down at the man on the floor. "Jesse Johnson, you are under arrest." He began to tie him up with the ropes that had bound him. But not before he gave him a good swift kick in the stomach. "That was for Vin," he growled. Then he kicked him in the head. "And that was for me. Never, EVER call me cowboy." His eyes flashed dangerously as he lashed the man's hands and feet together.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he smiled appreciatively at Mary where she sat beside Vin on the bed, removing the vicious gag with the utmost tenderness. "Miz Travis, where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

She looked at him, and smiled a little. "It wasn't a very good shot actually."

He arched an eyebrow at her.

She couldn't resist a grin. "I was aiming a little higher." She turned back to Vin, letting her silence say the rest.

Chris watched her for a minute, eyes wide with understanding. As he turned back to Johnson, he said, "Mary?"

"Yes, Chris?"

"Remind me to never piss you off."

"Will do. And watch your language."

+ + + + + + +

They herded Johnson out of town a few days later. As he was taken away in the prisoner wagon, each member of the group gathered to watch his departure.

Mary came forward, and as the wagon passed by, she spat full in his face.

Buck whistled. "Wowee, Miz Travis. That was mighty good, ma'am."

Ezra nodded. "Indeed, my dear woman. It would appear that your genteel training has deserted you."

She turned around, putting the trundling wagon behind her. "What can I say, gentlemen. I've learned from the best."

Buck blushed. "Well, shucks, ma'am. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

She hooked an arm through his, and the other through Chris'. "I meant all of you, Buck. But," she added at his crestfallen look, "you are by far the best."

And they walked off, laughing.

+ + + + + + +

Chris sat beside Vin's bed a few hours later. The terror that had done this to his friend might have been gone, but the tracker still only barely clung to life. Nathan had stitched up the long cut in the bounty hunter's cheek, and said that it should heal without a scar. Of course, they could all see in the healer's eyes that he didn't expect Vin to live long enough for it to heal at all.

Chris stared down into his friend's face. Placid even now, near death. He laughed. "Good lord, Vin. Don't you ever make any noise?" There was no answer. ///Obviously/// The gunslinger looked at the floor, spinning his hat in his hands. "Vin, I...I just gotta let you know. You-" He broke off there, fighting hard to say the words. "You were the best man I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You put me to shame more times than I care to remember, and I....I wanted to thank you." He had to laugh. "Look, I ain't the kind that's good with words. All I can say is...." He trailed off, trying to find the words. "All I can say is, it ain't going to be the same if you up and leave us, Vin. We need you. Who else is going to keep me from doing something damn foolish? Buck?" He laughed softly. But it trailed off, and he spoke seriously. "I ain't never been a leader, Vin. I need your help for that. Please."

There was no reply.

Chris' eye was caught by something moving outside the window, and he looked. The flash of gold had been the sun gleaming against Mary Travis' hair. She walked slowly, quietly, her face thoughtful. She had been slightly more jovial since Johnson had been captured, but Vin's sickness still taxed her heavily.

Chris turned back to his friend. "She's a good woman, Vin. But then, I'm sure you already knew that." He paused. "I sure would hate to see her hurt again, Tanner. We all would. And I know you ain't ever been anything but chivalrous when it came to the ladies. She loves you, brother. We all see that. We all envy you that, on some level. But she didn't choose us. She chose you." He stopped again, trying to find the words. "I ain't never taken you for one to run off, cowboy," he concluded. "Don't you be starting now."

The silence that hung in the air was oppressive.

Until it was broken.

"C...C-Chris?"

Chris' head snapped up, eyes alert.

To find Vin looking at him.

He moved closer to his friend's bed. "Yeah, Vin?"

"Don't call me cowboy."

Chris looked at him for a minute, then burst out laughing.

+ + + + + + +

Mary walked into the sick room, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Vin was sitting up, eyes closed, back propped against his pillows. For a minute, she just watched him, enthralled by the simple movement of his breathing. She could look at him for hours like that, had done so, watching him sleep.

But now, she cleared her throat, letting him know she was there.

His eyes opened, once again bright and blue, and she choked back the tears that threatened to fall. How many times had she thought she'd never see those eyes again? "You wanted to see me?" she said.

He smiled. "Come sit down, Mary," he said, gesturing to the edge of the bed.

She obliged, sitting beside him, very much aware of his half naked body beside her. His fever had broken and his wounds were healing nicely. Nathan said that, barring any unforseen circumstances, he would be up and about in a matter of weeks.

He refused to meet her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably. "What did you wish to discuss, Vin?"

"Well, I, uh, what I mean to say is, um..." he trailed off, obviously unsure of what to say, and Mary smiled at his insecurity. ///Doesn't he know he doesn't have to be so uncomfortable around me?///

"What is it, Vin?"

The tracker took a deep breath, and raised his eyes. Usually so placid, they now sparkled with emotion, and Mary gasped reflexively at the look in them. "I wanted to say a few things actually, Mary. And they're a might hard for me to say, so I hope you ain't offended by them."

She shook her head. "I won't be."

He nodded. "Well, the fact is, I wanted to thank you, Mary. For being there when....." He couldn't finish. Memories of Johnson were still painful for him.

Mary nodded. "You're welcome, Vin. But you don't have to thank me-"

"I ain't finished, Mary," he said softly, smiling. She stopped, flushing slightly. He raised a hand to her cheek, and she stopped breathing. "I also wanted to say that, during this whole thing, I....I think I just might've fallen in love with you, Mary." He paused, obviously unsure of what to do next. "I ain't never been nothing but who I am, Mary," he rushed on, babbling, "and I know I'm not much worthy of you, but I would be most honored if you would think of me as more than just a friend-"

"Shhh," she whispered, laying a slim finger across his lips. He quieted immediately. Mary leaned forward, her eyes dancing, face animated with her happiness. "I love you too, Vin Tanner. And don't say you aren't worthy," she interrupted his excited outburst. "Because I think you are the worthiest of men, and I will proudly think of you as more than just a friend."

And she kissed him.

A long, slow, passionate kiss that spoke volumes. That communicated all her pain and fear since the ordeal had started. All the pent up sexual tension she'd felt since first laying eyes on him in the street that day when he'd helped rescue Nathan.

And he responded. His lips worked against hers, so soft and tender. Mary thought she would cry from the beauty of it.

They separated eventually.

Eyes locked.

Breathing rapid.

He grinned. "I love you, Mary Travis."

She smiled back. "I love you too, Vin Tanner."

And she lay down beside him, arms wrapped around his waist, head cushioned against his shoulder. His arms wrapped reflexively around her, and they lay there quietly, enjoying the feeling of being together.

+ + + + + + +

"JD, will you put that damn fool contraption down and get your behind over here."

The youth ignored Buck and kept Vin's spyglass against his eye. "She's in the room now," he said excitedly.

Josiah shook his head. "JD, they need their privacy, just like everyone else."

JD ignored him. "She's sitting on the edge of the bed!" He was virtually bursting with excitement.

Ezra sighed. "It would appear Mr. Dunne is not acquainted with the finer points of good manners."

JD whooped. "Yahoo! They're kissing!"

He almost suffered a concussion as Buck swept him out of the way, pulling the spyglass from the younger man's hand and training it on the window. "Well I'll be," he breathed, a foolish grin spreading across his face.

"Buck, give that back," JD whined.

"Hey Nathan, get a load of this," Buck said, ignoring JD and handing the mini telescope to the healer.

Nathan grinned as he watched the scene unfold. "I say, they don't waste any time, now do they?"

"Come on you guys," JD wheedled.

"Mr. Jackson, if I may?" Ezra asked, sidling over. Nathan handed him the spyglass, and the gambler squinted through the eyepiece. He smiled, gold tooth flashing. "Smooth, Mr. Tanner. Very, very smooth."

"Hey, Ezra, what about the whole finer points of manners thing?" JD asked.

Ezra ignored him and kept his eye to the spyglass. "I was referring to you, my dear Mr. Dunne. I, on the other hand, am already quite well versed in the twists and turns of propriety, and so am allowed a few transgressions."

Josiah was next, but refused the view. "I'll respect they're privacy, brothers."

Chris, however, took the spyglass when it was offered to him. Training it on the window, he watched as the two lovebirds separated and gazed adoringly at one another. He smiled, a real, honest-to-God smile, as he watched them settle back against the bed, arms wrapped around each other. Taking the telescope from his eye, he collapsed it and slipped it into his pocket.

"Hey, Chris, can I see that again?" JD asked.

Chris shook his head. "Naw, kid. Not just yet. Maybe later." Smiling, he walked out of the saloon. "You old cowboy," he muttered, and walked off into the dusty street.

The End