THREE
NO! Chris Larabee came back to consciousness and began struggling wildly, eyes still closed tightly, as he felt the hands touch him, probing at the wound in his side. Hurting him. This couldn't be happening again. He'd made sure of that. Hadn't he? His two tormentors were dead. Weren't they? Oh God. What if that had all been a dream and he was waking back up to a living nightmare?But he remembered the feel of the shovel in his hands as he dug frantically at the hard ground, determined to bury the evidence of his shame. Remembered the pain in his body as he'd dragged himself by sheer force of will into the saddle. Remembered riding desperately towards home. Towards safety. But he didn't remember anything after that. Where the hell was he?
His fist connected solidly with something just then and he felt a brief flare of satisfaction. He'd hurt them. Whoever they were. Good. He heard a grunt of pain followed by a muffled curse. He frowned. It wasn't a voice he'd been expecting. Wasn't one of the ugly, vicious voices belonging to his two captors. This voice sounded familiar though. But he was too disoriented, his thoughts and feelings too confused. His body too battered. He couldn't think where he'd heard it before. But it didn't make him afraid the way the other voices had. Didn't make his flesh crawl with revulsion.
Then he became aware of another voice. "Easy, cowboy." The voice was soothing. He knew this voice.
"Vin?" He opened his eyes, whispering the other man's name. Became aware that his upper body was resting on the other man's lap. Gentle hands stroked his hair while their owner spoke softly, assuring him he was safe.
"I'm right here, Chris." The tracker's blue eyes were full of relief, and something else. Something Chris didn't want to think about. Not right now.
"What happened?" He needed to know. Needed to find out how much they knew.
"Just hold still and let Nathan take a look at that side and I'll tell ya." Those blue, blue eyes peered down at him. Chris glanced away quickly. He didn't want the tracker to see the filth that lay on his soul. The shame that filled his body. He looked over at the healer, who was kneeling on the dirt to one side of him. There was a bruise beginning to darken one cheekbone.
"Nathan, I'm sorry." Chris tried to apologize, but the healer just smiled and shook his head.
"Forget it. You'll probably be wishin' you'd hit me harder when I start cleanin' that side of yours. It's gonna hurt like the devil." The healer began rifling through his bag of medical supplies as he spoke.
Chris turned his head to look back up at the tracker. He was so tired. So very tired. For a split second, as he looked up into that concerned blue gaze, he wanted to blurt out what had happened. Let the quiet, capable tracker ease his crushing burden of shame and guilt. Soothe the bitter anger in his soul. But he couldn't do that. Couldn't let anyone know what had been done to him. How could he expect the others to follow him, to respect him, if they knew? They might think he'd invited it. Maybe he had. Maybe Buck was right. Maybe it wasn't natural to feel the way he did about the tracker. He flinched involuntarily at the thought. Oh God. He just wanted to forget about everything. It was over and done. He would just move on. Pretend it never happened. There was no point in dwelling on it. Right?
"Brace yourself, Chris." The healer's voice warned him.
Without conscious thought the gunslinger reached out a hand and grasped one of Vin's strong, work roughened hands. He held on tightly, hard enough so that the tracker could feel his bones grinding together.
"Tell me now." Chris ordered weakly.
Vin began talking, his voice low and rough. "We got a little worried when ya didn't show up in town this mornin'. And then we found out no one had seen ya since yesterday afternoon. So we reckoned maybe it might not be a bad idea to form a search party."
"I reckon maybe it was a good idea." Chris tried to inject a note of humor into his voice. The pain he heard in the tracker's voice scraped along his raw nerves like sandpaper. The gunslinger was already hurting bad enough for both of them. He couldn't stand the other man's pain on top of it.
We found ya just a few minutes before ya woke up here. You were barely conscious. Passed out as soon as we got ya off your horse." The tracker's voice tried to be matter of fact, but Chris could still hear the undertones of emotion in it. Well, he couldn't blame Vin for being horrified. He'd probably looked like quite a sight. If the tracker only knew the real truth. Chris had decided that his friends weren't aware of what had happened to him. They wouldn't have been able to hide the pity or disgust they felt. And he hadn't seen any signs of that yet.
"Where are the others?" Chris asked, gritting his teeth as Nathan finished cleaning the wound and placed a clean gauze bandage over it.
"They're gettin' some stuff to rig up a travois. You aint in no shape to ride." The healer's voice was stern.
Chris didn't protest, which obviously surprised the two men. They raised their eyebrows, but refrained from comment. A fact for which Chris was profoundly grateful. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget. He didn't want to answer the inevitable questions. Not until he'd had time to think about what he would say. And what he wouldn't, couldn't say.
+ + + + + + +
There. He finally felt clean enough to sleep. The gunslinger had insisted that he be allowed to take a bath before he would consent to rest. He'd also insisted that he be allowed to do it himself. If Nathan or one of the others saw the torn, swollen flesh of his backside, they would know. Hell, even JD would be able to figure it out. The others had protested. Vin and Buck in particular. That had surprised Chris. He wouldn't have thought Buck would want to help him with such an intimate task. He couldn't even bring himself to put his hand on Chris' shoulder last time they'd seen each other. The gunslinger was too weary in body and spirit to wonder about it for long though.
Nathan had finally ordered everyone out when he'd seen how the battle was tiring the gunslinger, threatening to undo all his efforts. The healer warned Chris that he'd be back to put another bandage on his side and then shooed everyone out of the room, muttering about damn stubborn fools and poor, put upon healers.
Chris scrubbed his abused flesh til it was nearly raw. Trying to wash away every trace of his ordeal. He sat in the rapidly cooling water and wondered if he'd ever feel truly clean again. Wondered if it would ever not hurt. Right now, pain filled his existence til it was impossible to imagine a life without its presence.
Chris had just barely gotten his pants on, a pair of loose cotton ones, when the healer came into the room, followed closely by Vin and Buck. The gunslinger sat silently while Nathan quickly and efficiently replaced the bandage on his side.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" The healer inquired, glancing up at Chris.
"No." The gunslinger's reply was curt.
"You need to get into that bed now and get some rest. You hear?" Nathan was still somewhat annoyed with his recalcitrant patient.
Buck fidgeted nervously while Vin and the healer got Chris settled into the clinic's bed.
"I'll stay with him." Vin's tone dared anyone to argue with him.
"I'm going to the saloon to let the others know how he's doing, then. I'll be back to check on him." The healer directed his speech to Vin, who nodded and pulled up a chair close to the bed.
"UhVin? Can I have a few minutes alone with Chris first?" The bigger man stood, head down, shuffling his feet nervously. The tracker wondered what was wrong with Buck. He'd been actin' strange the last few days. But he didn't give it more than a passing thought. Most of his thoughts were focused on the injured gunslinger, lyin' there like a ghost of his former self. Too still. Too pale.
"Just a few minutes, Buck. Ya heard Nathan. He needs to rest." The tracker left the room after a warning look at the other man.
"Chris?" Buck questioned tentatively.
"What is it, Buck?" The gunslinger asked tiredly. He wasn't even angry with his friend anymore. How could he be when the other man had been right?
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For , you know" He trailed off awkwardly.
"It's ok, Buck. Maybe you were right. Let's just forget about it." The gunslinger turned his face towards the wall. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.
Buck just stood there, frowning. He knew he should've been relieved that Chris had come to his senses. But instead, all he could think about was the look of tenderness on the tracker's face as he cradled the gunslinger's head in his lap. The fierce protectiveness in his eyes just now as he'd looked at Buck in warning. No. He hadn't been right. The two of them were right. Together.
"No, Chris. I was wrong. There aint no shame in feelin' that way. I"
"Go away, Buck. You've apologized. Now just leave me the hell alone." Buck's words had pierced the fragile defenses he'd built up, confusing him more than ever. What did Buck know about shame? Or about the things that went on between two men? Things he wasn't sure he even wanted to think about again, much less do. But Vin's hands had been so gentle. And his scent was clean. Not sour with stale sweat and whiskey. Like the others.
NO. He had to stop thinking about it. Get on with his life like nothing had happened. Everything would be ok then. It had to be. He wouldn't accept anything else.
Buck clearly had more to say, but the sight of his friend's pain wracked face and haunted eyes stilled his tongue. "All right, Chris. I'll be by later. After you get some rest."
Buck hesitated a moment before opening the door. "If ya ever need to talk" he offered a bit hesitantly, not certain how the gunslinger would react.
"I'll keep it in mind." Chris closed his eyes in dismissal. He heard Buck sigh and then quietly open the door.
The tracker hardly ever made a whisper of sound when he moved, so Chris felt rather than heard him come in the room and sit down.
"Vin?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed. It was easier if he didn't have to actually look at anyone.
"Right here beside ya, cowboy." Vin said reassuringly. He sensed that there was something the gunslinger was keeping from the rest of them. Chris hadn't said much about what happened. Just that a couple of James' former hands had gotten in a lucky shot while he had his guard down. And they'd held him prisoner for a day while they tried to decide what the best way to exact a little revenge would be. Chris had escaped and killed them before they had made up their minds. End of story. Except that the tracker had a feeling there was more to it than that. But it would be easier to get blood from a turnip than it would be to get words outta Chris Larabee. He'd worry about it later. Right now he just wanted Chris to get better.
For the first time since he'd been shot, a lifetime ago now, Chris could feel himself relax. Vin was here. Vin would take care of him. Again he reached out, unconsciously, to take hold of the tracker's hand. Grasping it tightly, he drifted off to sleep, too exhausted to deal with anything more today.
FOUR
"I said no, JD. Which part of that didn't you understand?" Chris Larabee snarled, before turning away from the crestfallen look on the young sheriff's face.Disappointed, but undeterred, JD reached out and placed a hand on the gunslinger's shoulder, in an attempt to get his attention once more. He really thought it would be a good idea for the older man to get out of town for a bit and relax. Chris had been awfully moody and erratic these last couple of weeks. The worst JD had ever seen him. He was worried about their leader. Heck, they all were. The townfolk were starting to mutter about reputations and smoke without fire and a whole lot of other nonsense. Conveniently forgetting about the many times the gunslinger had put his life on the line to save them. Just because Chris had lost his temper a few times lately and gotten into a couple of fights, been a little rough. The man had a right to be on edge after all he'd been through, getting shot and all. But JD knew deep down that it was more than that. Something was seriously wrong with Chris Larabee.
When Chris felt a hand descend on his shoulder, holding him, trying to force him...he felt a burst of rage.
Whirling around, Chris grabbed JD by the front of his vest, nearly lifting the smaller man off of his feet. He began shaking him violently and JD thought woozily that it was as if the gunslinger were looking at him, but seeing someone else entirely.
"Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me! I said no and I meant no!" Chris was screaming, face red with anger, while JD hung limply in his grasp, too shocked to even react.
"Chris. Let the boy go. He was just askin' if you wanted to go fishing with us." Josiah's voice was calm and soothing as the big man made his way through the crowded saloon. Patrons were muttering and shaking their heads as they watched the little scene unfold.
"I know what he was asking, preacher." The gunslinger's voice was still angry, but he let go of the young man. He turned and strode rapidly in the direction of the batwing doors, appearing to not even notice the looks he was getting from the people who'd just witnessed his latest fit of temper. He wouldn't have cared, if he had noticed. His only concern was hiding the tears he could feel burning in his eyes from his two friends.
Chris hesitated outside the doors for a moment, uncertain of his destination. Then he turned and began walking rapidly, long black duster swirling around his ankles as he moved.
He entered the cool, dark confines of the church and sank down to the ground, leaning back against the wall. He bit back a sob that was threatening to escape and swiped angrily at his burning eyes. God. He was losing it. Losing control.
In the two weeks since Nathan had released him from the clinic, his physical injuries had healed to the point that there was only a faint soreness left to remind him of his ordeal. No. His physical injuries weren't the problem. It was his emotional state he needed to worry about. Lately, he felt like a train wreck waiting to happen. And he had no idea how to get off this particular ride.
He'd thought that he had regained his equilibrium during his prolonged stay at the clinic. He'd tried so hard to put what had happened out of his mind. To move on. He'd thought he had succeeded. Until the dreams started, seeming to bring these uncontrollable bouts of rage with them.
When he'd been staying at Nathan's clinic, there had always been someone there with him. Vin had hardly left his side. And the few times the tracker wasn't present, Nathan or Buck or one of the other men were. He'd been lulled into a false sense of security. The dreams had waited to strike until his very first night by himself. Alone in his shack. Helpless.
Part of him appreciated the irony of feared gunslinger, Chris Larabee, thinking of himself as helpless. But that was exactly how he felt, waking up night after night in a cold sweat. The dreams seemed to grow worse each night, until he began dreading the arrival of nightfall. Began doing everything he could to avoid sleep. He'd tried drinking himself into a stupor, hoping that would keep the dreams at bay. It just made it harder to wake up from them. He'd tried reading, playing cards, anything that would keep him awake. But eventually, his body would betray him and he would fall into an exhausted slumber. Then the dreams would come. Inevitable. Inescapable. He shuddered as he remembered the previous night's dream. His two captors, rotting corpses, reaching out to violate him with cold, dead hands. The stench of blood and death on them. On him. He'd woken screaming from that one.
You never had the dreams while Vin was there. The little voice inside him whispered accusingly.
And how the hell would I explain asking him to stay the night with me, without him wondering why? Chris asked that insistent little voice angrily.
You could tell him the truth. the voice whispered.
NO!
There is another reason you could ask him to stay. This time the voice was seductive, tempting him to listen. To give in.
I...I can't. Chris drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. His feelings towards the tracker were riddled with confusion, shame and doubt. One minute, he felt safe, normal, almost happy. Then something would happen. He would see the words hovering on his friend's lips. Words that would change everything. That would give him what he most wanted. And what he hated himself for wanting. How could he still yearn to touch the tracker after what those bastards had done to him, Chris? And how could he justify letting Vin touch him? The tracker didn't know how Chris' body had been used. Defiled. His captors had made everything dirty and ugly. Yet Chris still wanted it. What did that make him?
If he were any kind of a man at all, he would set the tracker free. Now. Before anything irrevocable had been said. Turn him away for his own good. Instead, he pushed the tracker away every time he got too close, but refused to let him go altogether. To let at least one of them get on with their lives and find happiness. The gunslinger snorted. Hell, if he were any kind of a man, he wouldn't be having this much trouble dealing with something that had happened weeks ago. He was alive. What more did he want?
While he was on the subject, if he were a real man, he'd be out there courting Mary Travis right now, like the whole town thought he was doing anyway. Not sitting around burning with this unholy desire for another man. His best friend. He supposed a real man wouldn't have nearly killed that cowboy in the saloon last week just for jostling against him either. Or been needlessly cruel to that working gal he'd gone to. Wasn't her fault he couldn't perform. And a real man, a real friend wouldn't have shaken JD like a rag doll just because the boy had asked him to go fishing. They could carve that on his tombstone. Here lies a piss poor excuse for a man. The least he could do was apologize to JD. And he would. Just not right now.
The gunslinger lifted his head up at the sound of familiar footsteps. Vin was walking determinedly in his direction. Chris climbed heavily to his feet as the sharpshooter approached.
"I was just going to apologize." Chris muttered, not entirely truthfully.
Vin said nothing. Just stood and regarded him thoughtfully.
"I said I would apologize." Chris repeated sharply, fidgeting uncomfortably under the tracker's scrutiny.
"Aint like you to somethin' like that, needs apologizin' for." Vin finally drawled. The trace of anger, or maybe frustration, in the blue eyes and the hint of tension in the jawline spoke volumes. His friend was not going to let it go this time. Was not going to be pushed away. He was going to demand answers. Answers Chris couldn't give. For both their sakes.
Damn. Why couldn't he hold himself together? The gunslinger knew that his friends wondered what was wrong. Knew they were worried about him. They thought it was because he'd been reminded of his time in Jericho. Ha! That had been a paradise in comparison. But he couldn't tell them that. So he'd told Nathan he was fine each time the healer asked. Told Buck that he'd changed his mind about Vin and if he brought it up again, Chris was going to shoot him. Told Ezra to shut up and deal when the gambler had tried to initiate a conversation about it. And so on. And now here was Vin. Not asking. Demanding. At that thought, a spark of anger returned.
"Aint like me? And what exactly is like me, Tanner?" Chris didn't quite sneer, but he came close.
"It aint like ya to hurt the kid for no good reason that anyone could see." The tracker's voice was slightly accusing.
"I didn't really hurt him. He shouldn't have grabbed me." Chris replied defensively.
"What's wrong, cowboy? You can talk to me." Vin's tone had softened and he stepped closer to the gunslinger. Close enough for Chris to feel the heat of his body. Feel the warm breath as he spoke.
"Nothing's wrong." Chris said stubbornly, looking everywhere but at the tracker.
"Ya got people who care about ya. People who are worried about ya. Let us help." The voice was soft, slightly pleading.
"I never asked you to care. Any of you. I don't want you to care." Vin's gentleness was perversely causing Chris to become more angry.
"I reckon it's a little late for that now, pard. We do care."
"Some more than others, isn't that right Vin?" For the first time, Chris looked into the eyes just inches away from his own. He saw a flash of pain, which was quickly hidden by the downward sweep of the long lashes.
"Tell me, do you still wonder what it might be like?" Chris asked almost conversationally, when the tracker made no response.
"Do you?" demanded the gunslinger. He closed the small gap between their two bodies as the other man stared at the floor, as if seeking an answer to the impossible question there.
"Let me show you what it's like, so you don't have to spend any more time wondering." Chris jerked the tracker closer to him as he spoke, until their bodies were pressed tightly together. His lips descended with bruising force. There was no gentleness, no tenderness, no love in that kiss. Not at first. He could feel Vin stiffen in shock as Chris pulled him close. Could feel him struggle to turn away at the first touch of their lips. The gunslinger grabbed a fistful of the long hair in response, holding him still. He forced Vin's lips open and began running his tongue along the inside of the tracker's mouth. Vin let out a small moan at that and wrapped both his arms around the gunslinger, no longer trying to turn away.
That small sound jerked Chris back to a semblance of self. He softened the kiss, allowing it to become tender, apologetic, full of unspoken love. Then he unwrapped Vin's arms from around his waist and stepped back.
"We can't...I can't. You don't know. God, I'm so sorry, Vin." Chris turned and walked out of the church. He was damned for sure, now. What had he done, using force on the tracker like that? What had he been trying to prove? How like those two sick bastards he was?
He put the image of Vin's shocked and bewildered face out of his mind as he walked quickly over to his horse and pulled himself up into the saddle. He would deal with everything later. Right now he was going to go home, drink until he passed out and hope that this one night God was merciful enough to send him peaceful, dreamless slumber.
FIVE
The sharpshooter stood, senses reeling, body aching with unfulfilled need, and watched as Chris Larabee disappeared from sight. Taking with him every last shred of hope that Vin had been clinging to these past weeks. The hope that Chris would stop pushing him away every time he got too close. The hope that the naked, almost desperate, need he sometimes saw in those green eyes was for him. The hope that, just this once, life would give him what he wanted.He shoulda known better. Chris had kissed him alright. Just like he'd been wantin'. But the universe loved a good joke. Especially when it came at the expense of a certain former bounty hunter. There had been no love, hell, there hadn't even been any desire in that kiss. Until the very end, after Vin had surrendered. Then the gunslinger had moved his lips gently, apologetically, over the tracker's mouth for a brief moment. But Vin didn't want any damn apologies. He wanted Chris. Wanted to feel the hard length of body and the soft, warm, wetness of lips and tongue.
He knew Chris had been driven by a need to punish him. To hurt someone like he was so obviously hurtin'. He knew that was the only reason the gunslinger had kissed him like that. To his eternal shame, Vin had found that he didn't give a damn what Chris' motives had been. Not after the first few seconds. That was all it had taken to sap his will and make him no more than a quiverin' pile of need at the gunslinger's feet. His face flamed as he recalled the feeble resistance that hadn't even lasted the blink of an eye. No wonder the gunslinger had pushed him away.
He cringed as he remembered the stricken, horrified look on Chris' face as he had stepped back, untangling himself from the tracker's clasp. Then had come the final blow. The words, "We can't. I'm sorry.", had felt like railroad spikes bein' hammered into his chest, into his guts. He wondered what, exactly, the gunslinger had been sorry for. Kissin' him? Not wantin' him like he wanted the gunslinger? For bein' such a prize bastard these past few weeks? He reckoned it all meant the same thing. Chris didn't want anything Vin had to offer.
Vin began cursing, pounding the church wall with his fist. He could feel the skin on his hand start to crack and bleed. He didn't care. It was easier to focus on the physical pain than to keep thinkin' about things. He couldn't take much more of this. He didn't know what to do. Wasn't sure anymore that he could stand by and be any kind of a friend to Chris. Not when he wanted so much more. Hell, he was already showin' that he was of no account in the friendship department. It was obvious to everyone that somethin' was botherin' their leader. Bad enough to make him lose control at times. Something Chris Larabee rarely, if ever, did under any circumstances. Even when confronted by the man who'd set fire to his family, he'd maintained control, kept a cool head. Vin just wished he knew what it was that had his friend so twisted up inside. It hurt to see Chris this way. Strugglin' alone, eyes haunted by a pain that went beyond the bone, clear to the soul.
Maybe he should just leave town. Get while the gettin' was good. Or, at least before it got any worse. But he knew that was just so much talk on his part. He couldn't leave the gunslinger. Didn't matter if Chris wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't accept even his help. Vin could at least watch his back. He and the others would make damn sure nothin' happened to their leader, despite himself. And if Vin lost his heart, mind and soul in the process? Well, that was just too damn bad.
He stooped to pick his hat up off the ground and froze as he heard a pair of boots clattering up the steps outside. His heart beating rapidly, he walked over and yanked the door open. But it wasn't the gunslinger who stood poised to enter.
"Lookin' for anyone in particular, Buck?" he asked, a little irritably. His nerves were already on edge from the confrontation with Chris. The last thing he needed was Buck or JD to start actin' strange around him again.
"Actually, I was looking for you." The bigger man seemed a little nervous and Vin groaned inwardly. This day just kept gettin' better and better.
"Well, ya found me." Vin wasn't gonna make this any easier than he had to.
"I justI wondered if you'd talked to Chris. Been able to find out what's buggin' him." Buck darted a quick glance at the tracker's face as he spoke. Apparently he could read Vin's failure in the other man's expression, because he sighed and shook his head.
"Damn. If he won't talk to you" Buck sighed again and removed his hat, slapping it against his thigh as he frowned in thought.
"What makes ya think he'd talk to me?" Vin couldn't stop the hint of bitterness that crept into his tone.
The other man just looked at him in disgust. "I swear if you two aren't worse than any couple I ever seen." he muttered, almost seeming to forget Vin was there.
"What are ya talkin about?" Vin asked sharply, feeling his face flame red at the thought that the other man might be aware of his feelings for Chris.
"HmmmWhat?" Buck seemed startled at the question.
"I asked what ya were jawin' about when ya said me and Chris were worse than any, than anyJust answer the question, Buck." Vin snapped, feeling the red spread further across his face until even the tips of his ears were burning.
"I'm talkin' about how you two are takin' entirely too long to get down to business here. You been tiptoeing around each other, acting coyer than the proverbial farmer's daughter. It's time to settle matters between ya before Chris winds up shootin' someone."
"I aint got the first idea what you're talkin' about, Buck. But whatever it is, I know it aint any of your damn business." Vin had decided his best bet was to pretend he had no idea what the other man was tryin' to say. Then maybe Buck would go away and leave him alone. And maybe pigs would fly.
"It is my business when my oldest friend comes to me and declares his undyin' love for another man. In this case, you. Then, even though it's plain as the nose on your face that both of you want the same thing, nothin's happening! Add the fact that Chris has been meaner than a polecat lately and something's obviously botherin' him, and I can add two plus two. In this case they equal, "I'm sick and tired of seein' both your sour pusses, so I'm makin' it my business. Now go do somethin' about it!" Buck waved his arm in the direction of the door.
Vin stared at Buck, mouth gaping open in shock. "Undyin' love?" he finally snorted. "Chris never said that."
"Well, not in those words, exactly." The other man admitted, with a slight shrug. "But the sentiment was there."
"How do yaWhat did heWhy are ya tellin' me this?" Vin finally asked. Buck wasn't the type to betray a confidence. And Vin knew that if Chris had told Buck any such thing, it would have been in the strictest confidence. He tried to control the little flutters in his chest at the thought that Chris might really return his feelings. Even if somethin' was keepin' the gunslinger from actin' on them, Vin could be patient. As long as there was hope.
The tall man's expression took on an expression of unwonted seriousness. "I'm tellin' ya because Chris is hurtin' bad and you're the only one that has a hope in hell of gettin' through to him. Of findin' out what the problem is."
"But aint ya worried he'll figure out what ya told me?" Vin didn't want his hopes of happiness to come at the expense of Chris and Buck's friendship.
Buck smiled with a trace of sadness. "Me and Chris have been through a lot together. We'll get through that, too." Then he added, his smile turning wicked. "Besides, I expect you to keep him far too busy, to have time to think on it."
The tracker opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for a reply to Buck's outrageous comment. Finally, he just grinned sheepishly at his friend. "I reckon. I'll give it a try, anyway."
Buck grinned in return. "Go." he ordered.
The tracker was out the door and halfway towards the gunslinger's house before the euphoria wore off and he started thinkin' clear again.
"What the hell was he supposed to do? Just walk into the door and announce that "Buck told me about that undyin' love business, so let's go to bed, fuck each other six ways from Sunday and then ya can tell me what's really botherin' ya." That definitely wasn't gonna work. Doubt was beginning to plague the sharpshooter. Maybe Buck had made a mistake in tellin' him. What if he made everything worse? Chris had made it pretty clear that he couldn't or wouldn't take their relationship in that direction.
No. Resolve firmed his jaw. He wasn't gonna let Chris wriggle outta this one. The gunslinger was gonna have to explain himself. One way or another. And things couldn't get much worse than they already were. So he might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. He did slow his horse down to a walk, though. A little time to think about what the hell he was gonna say to the gunslinger wouldn't hurt none.
+ + + + + + +
Chris Larabee was in hell. He didn't mind that so much. He'd been pretty much expecting it after some of the things he'd done. What made him shriek with fear and start babbling incoherently was the sight of his two tormentors, Ed and Cal, down there with him. He could see their feral grins reflected in the flickering flames. Could feel their hot breath, overpowering even amongst the sulfurous fumes all around them. Could hear their taunting, vicious laughter. NO! NO! NO! This was a dream. Let him wake up! But the whiskey he'd drank held him relentlessly under. He writhed around helplessly, certain he knew what was coming.
And then he felt the touch of gentle hands. Heard a soft voice calling him back, leading him out of Hell. Chasing away the darkness with its presence.
He opened his eyes to find Vin Tanner peering down at him in concern.
+ + + + + + +
"You were rollin' around on the bed, mutterin' somethin' about Hell and shoutin' no, over and over." The tracker replied in response to the question he could see in the gunslinger's eyes.
"Dammit, Chris. Tell me what's wrong." Vin had never seen anyone in such mortal fright over a dream before. Had never heard Chris scream like that before. Never wanted to hear it again.
Chris shook his head, causing a lock of hair to fall over his forehead, obscuring one eye. Without thinking, Vin reached out and brushed the errant lock of hair back, out of the gunslinger's face. He gave it a gentle rub between his fingers. It felt soft and slightly damp from sweat. He let go and began to lower his arm, but Chris grabbed his wrist before it had moved a bare inch.
"Stay with me. Please." The blonde head was lowered and the words were muffled. But they sounded as if they had been wrenched out of the gunslinger, against his will.
"Sure, cowboy." Vin replied, attempting to withdraw his arm from the other man's clenched fingers. "I'll just bunk down right here next to ya on the floor. Let me go get a couple of blankets." It was really too early for sleep. Matter of fact, it was still daylight outside. But Vin wasn't gonna point any of that out to the distraught gunslinger. All thoughts of confronting the gunslinger had vanished when Vin saw the look of abject terror in those green eyes, before Chris had fully awakened.
Chris tightened his grip on Vin's wrist. "No. I mean" he gestured mutely to the empty place beside him on the bed and his voice was barely above a whisper.
Vin swallowed hard. Then he nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed, quickly stripping himself of coat, boots and gunbelt, before turning and carefully easing his way over to the other side of the bed. Oh God. What was he doing?
+ + + + + + +
Oh God. What was he doing? Asking, practically begging, Vin to stay with him. In his bed. But he couldn't face another dream. Couldn't stand to feel the cold, filthy hands on him again. He needed the warmth and reassurance of the tracker's touch. Maybe then he would be able to sleep tonight, without dreaming. He turned to look into the blue eyes, now disconcertingly close. He reached out and gently ran his thumb across the lips he had so brutally assaulted earlier. Shame filled him as he remembered. He didn't deserve the love he could see glimmering in the depths of that gaze. Didn't deserve to be touched. But he wanted to be. And he was too weak to withstand the desire. He trailed his fingers down the tracker's face, through the long brown hair. Neither man spoke. It was as if neither wanted to break the spell, to let ugly reality intrude. Tomorrow would be soon enough for that. The last remnants of the dream faded from his mind as the tracker reached out and pulled him close. Yes. Tomorrow. He would worry about everything then.